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THE 


ENCYCLOPAEDIA  BRITANNICA 


DICTIOx\ARY 


Arts,  Sciences,  and  General  Literature 


THE  E.  S.  PEALE  EEPEI^-T 

WITH  NKW  MAPS  AiNI)  ORIGINAL  AMERICAN  ARTICLES  BY  EMimm' 
WRITERS 


VOLUME  XVI 


their  "Enhius."'   V.  CHICAGO  Oriffini 

minor  poems  or_<'v.^        ^     g^   PEA:^  ^"'>     '       '''^  \NY  ^  ^''''^' 


r 

HTi&S  708S79 


^' 


7/ 


Encyclopaedia  '^  Britannica. 

Vol.  XVI. — (MEN-MOS). 

Total  number  of  Articles,  376. 

PRINCIPAL    CONTENTS. 


MENANDER.     F.  i   Palet,  LL.D. 

\U-NCHJS.    jAMr.3 1.EOQE,  LL.D.,  Professor  of  Cbinese, 

UDiversity  of  Oxfori 
MENDELSSOHN.     V/.  S.  Rook«tro,  Author  of  "  Life 

of  HandeL" 
MENSURATION.     Wm.  Thomson,  Professor  of  Mathe- 
matics, Stollenbosch  College,  South  Africa. 
MERCUEY.      W.     DiTTMAK,     F.R.S.,     Professor    of 

Chemistry,  Anderson's  College,  Glas.'jow. 
THBRAPEniic  Uses.      D.  J.  Leech,  11. D.,  Profossoi 
of  Materia  Medica,  Owens  College,  Manchester. 
MERV.     Major  F.  0.  H.  Clarke,  C.M.G.,  R.A. 
MESOPOTAMIA.     Prof.  AiBREonT  SooiN.  University 

of  Tubingen. 
MES3IAH.     Prof.  W.  RonKRTsoN  Smith,  LL.D. 
METALLURGY.     Prof.  Dittmar. 
METAL-WORK.     J.  H.  Middleton,  M.A.,  London. 
METAPHYSIC.     Edward  Caird,  LL.D.,  Professor  of 

Moral  Philosophy,  University  of  Glasgow. 
METASTASIO.    J.  A.  Symokds,  M.A. 
METEMPSYCHOSIS.     F.  A.  Paiet,  LL.D. 
METEOR.     Hubert  A.  Newton,  LL.D.,  Professor  of 

Mathematics,  Yale  College,  Conn. 
METEOROLOGY.     A.  Bhohan,   F.R.S.E.,    and  Prof. 

Balfodr  Stewart,  LL.D.,  F.R.S. 
METHODISM.     Rev.    J.   H.    Rioo,    D.D.,   Author  of 

"  Chnrchmaffship  of  John  Wesley." 
METSU.     J.   A.   Crowe,  Author  of  "Lives   of  Early 

'Flemish  Painters." 
METTERNICH.     C.   Alan   Ftffe,    M.A.,  Author  of 

"A  History  of  Modern  Europe." 
MEXICO.     E.  B.  Tyloe,  D.C.L.,  LL.D.,  F.R.S.,  and 

Prof.  A.  H.  Eeane. 
MEYERBEER.     W.  S.  RocKSTRO. 
MICAH.     Prof.  W.  Robertson  Smith. 
MICHELANGELO.     Sidney  Colvik,  M.A.,  SladePro 

fessor  of  Fine  Art,  University  of  Cambridge. 
MICH  IGAN.    0.  K.  Adams,  LL.  D.,  Professor  ef  History, 

University  of  Michigan,  Ann  Arbor,  Mich. 
MICROMETER.      David  Gill,  LL.D.,  F.R.S.,  Astro- 

nomer-Royal,  Cape  of  Good  Hope. 
MICROSCOPE.      W.    B.    Carpenter,    M.D.,    C.B., 

F.R.S.,  A'lthor  of  "The  Microscope  and  its  Revela- 
tions." 
MIDDLESEX.     H.   B.   Wheatley,   Secretary  of  the 

Topographical  Society  of  London. 
MIDKASH.      S.  M.  SohilleeSzinessy,  M.A, 
MILITARY    LAW.      J.    C.    0'Do^\-D,    C.B.,    D-put} 

Judge  Advocate  General,  War  Office,  Loudon. 
MILITIA.     J.  C.  O'DowD. 
MILK.     Prof.  J.  G.  M'Kendriok,  M.D.,  LL.D.,  and 

James  Paton. 
MILL,  JAMES.     Alexander  Bain,  LL.D.,  Author  of 

"The  Emotions  and  the  Will." 
MILL,  JOHN  STUART.     Wm.  Minto,  M.A.,  Professoi 

of  LoKic,  University  of  Aberdeen. 
MILLENNIUM.     Adolf   Harnack,    D.D.,    Professor 

of  Church  History,  University  of  Giessen. 
MILLER,  HUGH:     Peteii  Bayne,  LL.D..  Author  of 

"  Life  and  Letters  of  Hugh  Miller." 
MILMAN.  Richard  Gaknett,  LL.D. 
MILTON.      Prof.  David  Masson,  LL.D.,    Author  0 

"  Life  of  John  Milton." 
MILWAUKEE.     J.  Jouhstok,  Milwaukee. 
MIMICRY.     Grant  Ai.i.en. 
MINERALOGY.     M.   F.  Heddle,    M.D.,  Professor  of 

Chemistry,  University  of  St  Andrews. 
MINERAL    WATERS.     John    Macpheeson,    M.D., 

Author  of  "  Baths  and  Wells  of  Europe,"  and  Prof. 

Albert  R.  Leeds,  Stovens  Institute  of  Technology, 

Hoboken,  N.J. 
MINIATURE.  E.  Mafnde Thompson,  LL.D. 
MINING.      C.    Le  Neve  Foster,    D.Sc,   H.M.    In- 
spector of  Metalliferous  Mines. 
MINISTRY.     Alex.  C.  Ewald.  Record  Office,  Lnndoa. 


MINNESOTA.     J.  G.  Pyle,  St  Paul,  Minn, 

MINSTREL.     Prof.  Minto. 

MINT.  W.  Chandler  Roberts,  F.R.S.,  and  R.  a. 
Hill,  both  of  the  Royal  Mint,  London. 

MIRABEAU.     H.  Morse  SrapaKNe.    • 

MIRROR.     James  Paton  and  A.  S.  Murray. 

MISHNAH.     S.  M.  Sohillbb-Szinessy. 

MISSAL.     Rev.  J.  Sutherland  Black,  M.A. 

MISSIONS.  Rev.  G.  F.  Maolear,  D.D.,  Warden  ol 
St  Augustine  College,  Canterbury. 

MISSISSIPPI  (River).  Col.  H.  L.  Abbot,  U.S. 
Engineers. 

MISSISSIPPI  (State).  Piof.  R.  B.  Fulton,  Univereily 
of  Mississippi,  Oxford,  Misii. 

MISSOURI.  Prof.  M.  S.  Snow,  Washington  Univereity, 
St  Louis,  Mo. 

MITE.     A.  D.  Michael,  F.R.M.S. 

MOAB.  Prof.  Julius  WELLHAUSEif,  University  0' 
Halle. 

MOHAJIMEDANISM— 
Mohammed.     Prof.  WELLHAUshA". 
Eastern  Caliphate.      Prof.  Stanislas  Guyard. 
Koran.     Prof.  NOldeke. 

MOLE.     Surgeon-Major  DoBsoN,  F.R.S. 

MOLECULK  Rev.  H.  W.  Watson,  M.A.,  Rector  ol 
Berkeswell,  Warwickshire^  S.  H.  Bdrbury,  M.A., 
Lincoln's  Inn,  and  Prof.  A.  Ckum  Brown. 

MOLIERE.     And.  Lano,  Author  of  "Helen  of  Troy." 

MOLLUSCA.  E.  Ray  Lankester,  F.R.S.,  Professor 
of  Zoology,  University  College,  London. 

MOLOCH.     Prof.  W.  Robertson  Smith. 

MONACHISM.    Rev.  R.  F.  Littledale,  LL.D.,  D.C.L. 

MONEY.  C.  F.  Bastable,  M.A.,  Prof,  of  Jurisprudence 
and  Political  Economy,  Queen's  College,  Galway. 

MONGE.  Prof.  Arthur  CaylBy,  LL.D.,  6.C.L.,  F.ks. 

MONGOLS.  R.  K.  Douglas,  Professor  of  Chinese, 
King's  College,  London,  and  Prof.  B.  JilLO,  Univer- 
sity of  Innsbruck. 

MONMOUTH,  DUKE  OF.     Osmund  Airy. 

MONROE.  Prof.  Freeman  Snow,  Harvard  Univereity. 
Cambridge,  Mass. 

MONSTER.     Charles  Creiohton,  M.A.,  M.D. 

MONTAIGNE.     Geo.  Saintsbury. 

MONTANA.  Henry  Ganneit,  Geographical  Depart- 
ment, Washington. 

MONTANISM.     Prof.  Harnack. 

MONTENEGRO.     H.  A.  Webster. 

MONTESQUIEU.     G.  Saintsbury. 

MONTREAL.     Prof.  Danifl  Wilson,  LL.D. 

MONTROSE,    MARQUIS   OF.        S.    R.    Gardiner, 
■  Professor  of  Modern  History,  King's  College,  London. 

MOON.  Simon  Newcomb,  Professor  of  Astronomy, 
U.S.  Naval  Observatory,  Washington. 

MOORE,  SIR  JOHN.     H.  M.  Stephens. 

MOORE,  THOMAS.     Prof.  Minto. 

MORAVIA.     J.  F.  Muirhead,  Leipsic. 

MORAVIAN  BRETHREN.    Prof.  'T.  JF.  Lindsay,  D.D. 

MORE,  HENRY.  Very  Rev.  John  Tui,looh,  D.U., 
late  Principal  of  St.  Mary's  College,  St  Andrews. 

MORE,  THOSIAS.  Kev.  Mark  Pattison,  "B.D., 
Rector  of  Lincoln  College,  Oxford. 

MORMONS.   Prof.  John  Fraseb,  University  of  Chicago. 

MOROCCO.     H.  A.  Webster. 

MORPHOLOGY.     Patrick  Geddes,  F.R.S.E. 

MORSE.  Rev.  S.  Ibkn«ds  Prime,  D.D.,  Author  of 
"Life  of  Morse." 

MORTGAGE.  Edmund  Robertson,  LL.D.,  M.P.,  Pro- 
fessor of  Roman  Law,  University  College,  London. 

MOSAIC.     J.  H.  Middleton. 

MOSCOW.     P.  A.  Kropotkinb. 

MOSES.     Prof.  Wellhausbn. 

MOSES  OF  CHORENE.  Prof.  A.  VON  GoTBcnMir, 
University  of  Tubingen. 

MOSQUE.     J.  H.  Middleton. 

MOSQUITO.     R.  M'LAcni.AN,  F.R:a. 


^!ofreVe;;Ce''bvtI.« 


ENCYCLOPAEDIA    BEITANNICA. 


ME  N-ME  N 


MENA,  JUAN  DE,  one  of  the  Italiamzmg  Spamsli  poeta 
of  the  15th  century,  was  bom  at  Cordova  about 
Hll.  We  are  infonned  by  Romero,  to  whom  we  are 
indebted  for  almost  all  we  know  about  his  life,  that  he  had 
attained  the  age  of  twenty-three  before  he  began  to  give 
himself  to  "the  sweet  labour  of  good  learning,"  pursuing  a 
regular  course  of  study  at  Salamanca  and  afterwards  at 
Rome.  It  was  at  the  latter  city  that  he  first  became 
ao/iuainted  with  the  writings  of  Dante  and  Petrarch,  which 
afterwards  so  powerfully  influenced  his  own  style.  Having 
returned  to  Spain,  he  became  a  "veinticuatro,"  or  magis- 
trate, of  his  native  town,  and  was  received  as  a  poet  with 
great  favour  at  the  court  of  John  n.,  being  made  Latin  secre- 
tary to  the  king  and  historiographer  of  Castile.  He  died 
suddenly,  in  consequence  of  a  fall  from  his  mule,  in  1456, 
at  Torrelajjuna,  where  the  marquis  of  Samtillana,  his  friend 
and  patron,  erected  his  monument  and  wrote  his  epitaph. 
De  Mena's  principal  work.  El  Laberinto  {"  The  Labyrinth  "), 
Bometiities  called  Las  Trescienlas  ("  The  Three  Hundred  ") 
from  the  original  number  of  its  stanzas,  is  a  didactic 
allegory  on  the  duties  and  destinies  of  man,  obviously  con- 
Btnicted  on  the  lines  of  the  Divina  Commedia  of  Dante. 
The  poet,  while  wandering  in  a  wood  and  exposed  to  the 
attacks  of  various  beasts  of  prey,  is  met  by  Providence  in 
the  gtiise  of  a  beautif iil  woman,  who  ofiers  to  guide  him 
safely  through  the  dangers  which  siuroimd  him,  and  at  the 
same  time  to  explain — "  as  far  as  they  may  be  grasped  by 
human  understanding" — the  dark  mysteries  of  life  that 
weigh  upon  his  spirit.  He  is  then  led  to  the  spherical 
centre  of  the  five  zones,  where  he  sees  the  three  wheels  of 
destiny,  the  past,  the  futxu-e,  and  the  present,  and  the  men 
belonging  to  each,  arranged  in  the  seven  circles  of  planetary 
influence.  Opportunity  is  thus  afforded  for  a  vast  quan- 
tity of  mythological  and  historical  portraiture ;  the  best 
sketches  are  those  of  the  poet's  own  contemporaries,  but 
the  work  in  general  is  much  disfigured  with  all  sorts  of 
pedantry,  and  hardly  ever  attains  to  mediocrity  as  a  poem. 
The  Laberinto  was  first  printed  at  Seville  in  1496  ;  Nunez 
and  Sanchez  accompanied  it  iitith  commentaries  in  1499 
and  1582  respectively ;  and  it  is  stiU  regarded  with  a  good 
deal  of  reverence  by  the  Spaniards  as  the  "  magnum  opus  " 
of  their  "  Enhius."  De  Mena  was  the  author  of  a  number 
of  minor  poems  or  "  vers  de  soci^t^,"  .written  merely  for 
IC— 1 


court  circles,  and  having  neither  general  interest  nor  per- 
manent value;  most  of  them  are  to  be  found  in  the 
Cancionero  General.  He  also  wrote  a  poem  entitled  La 
Coronacion,  the  subject  being  the  "crowning"  of  the 
marquis  of  Santillana  by  the  Muses  and  the  Virtues  oa 
Mount  Parnassus.  Finally,  his  Sietc  Pecados  Motialet 
("  Seven  Deadly  Sins  ")  is  a  dull  allegory  on  the  antagonism 
between  reason  ■  and  the  •  vi'ill  of  man.  Complete  editions 
of  the  poems  of  De  Mena  appeared  in  1528,  1804,  and 
1840. 

MfiNACE,  GiLLEs  (1613-1692),  described  by  Bayle  as 
"  one  of  the  most  learned  men  of  his  time,  and  the  Varro 
of  the  17th  century,"  was  the  son  of  GuUlaume  Manage, 
king's  advocate  at  Angers,  and  was  bom  in  that  city,  on 
August  15,  .1613.  A  tenacious  memory  and  an  early 
developed  enthusiasm  for  learning  carried  him  speedily 
through  his  literary  and  professional  studies,  and  we  read 
of  him  practising  at  the  bar  at  Angers  as  early  as  1632. 
In  the  same  year  he  pleaded  several  causes  before  the 
parlement  of  Paris,  and  soon  afterwards  he  attended  the 
"  Grand  Tours "  at  Poitiers,  but  after  having  been  laid 
aside  by  a  severe  illness  he  abandoned  the  legal  profession 
and  declared  his  intention  of  entering  the  church.  He 
succeeded  in  obtaining  some  sinecure  benefices,  and  lived 
for  some  years  in  the  household  of  Cardinal  De  Retz  (then 
only  coadjutor  to  the  archbishop  of  Paris),  where  he  had 
ample  leisure  for  his  favourite  literary  pursviits.-  Some 
time  after  1648  hfe  withdrew  to  a  house  of  his  own  in  the 
cloister  of  Notre  Dame,  where  his  remarkable  conversational 
powers  enabled  him  to  gather  round  him  on  Wednesday 
evenings  those  much  frequented  literary  assemblies  which 
he  called.  "  Mercuriales."  His  learning  procured  for  him 
admission  to  the  Delia  Crusoan  Academy  of  Florence,  but 
his  irrepressible  tendency  to  caustic  sarcasm  led  to  his 
remorseless  exclusion  from  the  French  Academy.  He  died 
at  Paris  on  July  23,  1692.  Of  the  voluminous  works 
of  Manage  (fully  enumerated  in  the  Dictiannaire  of 
Chauffepi^)  the  following  may  be  mentioned : — Oriffinet 
de  la  Langue  Fran^oise  (1650  ;  greatly  enlarged  in  1694)  ; 
Diogenes  Laertim  Grace  et  Latine,  cum  CommerUario  (1663 
and  again  much  improved  in  1692);  Poemata  Latina, 
Gallica,  Grsica,  et  Italica  (1656;  8th  ed.,  1687);  Originx 
delta  Lingua  luUiana  (1669);  and  Anti-BaiUet  (1690). 


^ 


M-  E  N  — M  E  N 


Alter  his  death  a  volume  of  Menagiana  was  published ;  it 
was  afterwards  expanded  into  two,  and,  with  great  addi- 
tions, into  four  in  the  Paris  edition  of  1715. 

MENANDEK,  the  most  famous  Greek  poet  of  'the 
New  Comedy,  which  prevailed  from  about  the  death  of 
Alexander  the  Great  (323  B.C.)  to  250.  He  was  bom  at 
Athens  in  342,  and  died,  it  was  said,  by  drowning  in  the 
harbour  of  that  city  (Piraeus)  in  291.  His  social  tastes 
induced  him  to  write  plays  rather  for  the  upper  classes, 
and  to  raise  comedy  to  a  gentility  which  it  had  hardly 
possessed  in  the  hands  of  the  preceding  comic  poets.  Ho 
was  the  associate,  if  not  the  pupil,  of  Theophrastus,  who 
himself  had  been  a  disciple  of  Plato  and  Aristotle,  and  he 
was  the  intimate  friend  and  admirer  of  Epicurus ;  but  he 
also  enjayed  the  more  distinguished  patronage  of  Demetrius 
Phalereus  (who  was  likewise  a  pupil  of  Theophrastus),  and 
of  Ptolemy  the  son  of  Lagus.^  His  principal  rival  in  the  art 
was  Philemon,  who  appears  to  have  been  more  popular  with 
the  multitude,  and  for  that  reason  probably  more  successful. 
It  is  said  that  out  of  a  hundred  comedies  Menander  gained 
the  prize  vrith  but  eight.  All  the  extant  plays  of  Terence, 
with  the  exception  of  the  Phormio,  are  avowedly  taken 
from  Menander ;  but  some  of  them  appear  to  have  been 
adaptations  and  combinations  of  more  than  one  plot, 
although  Terence  himself  says  in  the  prologue  to  the 
Adelphi  (11)  that  he  copied  the  Gree^  model  clesely, 
"vorbum  de  verbo  expressum  extulit."  Jvdius  Caesar 
called  Terence  dimidiatus  Menander,  as  if  two  halves  of 
different  plays  had  been  fitted  into  one.^ 

The  Attic  New  Comedy,  says  Dr  Wagner,^  "may  be 
designated  as  essentially  domestic,"  i.e.,  as  opposed  to 
that  free  discussion  of  the  politics  of  the  day  which  gave 
to  the  Old  Comedy  the  place  which  is  held  by  the  "  leading 
articles  "  of  a  modern  newspaper.  "  The  stock  characters 
were  such  as  the  stem  or  weak  father,  the  son  whose 
follies  are  seconded  by  a  slave  or  a  hungry  parasite,  the 
pettifogger,  active  in  stirring  up  law  suits,  and  the  gascon- 
ading soldier  of  fortune."  ^  These  and  cognate  subjects, 
which  formed  the  stock-in-trade  of  Menander's  plays,  are 
summed  up  in  two  well-known  lines  of  Ovid — -. 

"Dum  fallax  servu3,  dunis  pater,  improba  lena- 
Vivet,  dum  meretrix  blanda,  Menandros  erit." 
It  13  a  good  remark  of  Dr  Wagner's  ^  that  the  last-mentioned 
of  Ihese,  the  meretiix  blanda  (which  probably  refers 
especially  to  the  Thais),  "holds  the  most  important" and 
conspicuous  part  in  the  New  Attic  Comedy,  while  married 
ladies  are  continually  represented  as  the  plague  and  bore 
of  their  husbands'  lives."  Intrigues  ivith  these,  generally 
through  the  medium  of  a  clever  confidential  slave,  are  for 
the  most  part  the  very  point  or-  pivot  on  which  the  j)lot 
turns. 

The  more  literary  Romans  greatly  admired  Menander 
as  a  poet.  Pliny  {N".  H.,  xxx.  1,  §  7)  speaks  of  him  as 
"Menander  litterarum  subtilitati  sine  a;mulo  genitus." 
Propertius,  contemplating  a  visit  to  Athens,^  anticipates 
the  pleasure  of  reading  Menander  in  his  native  city — 
"  Persequar  aut  studium  lingute,  Demostheuis  arma, 
Libaboque  tuos,  scite  Menaudre,  sales." 


'  In  allusion  to  this  Pliny  writes  {Jf.  n.^vii.  30,  §  11 1),  "  Magnura 
et  Monandro  in  coinico  bocco  testimonium  rcguni  JE^ypii  et  Mace- 
tloniae  coiitigit  classo  et  per  legatos  petito  ;  niajus  ex  ipso,  regiffi 
fortunas  pra;lata  litterarum  conscientia."  This  seems  to  say  that 
Mcnaudcr  had  been  invited  to  tlie  courts  of  Alexander  and  Ptolemy, 
US  Euripides  had'  been  lo  that  of  Archelaus,  king  of  Macedonia,  but 
had  preferred  to  write  comedies  for  the  Attic  stage. 

^  Thus  the  Andria,  Jleauiontimorumino^,  and  Hccyra.  are  described 
Bevcrally  in  the  tituli  prefixed  as  Qrwca  or  tola  Orteca  Mcnandru. 
The  liunuch  and  Timorumen.08  are  each  based  on  two  plays  of 
Menander,  and  the  Adelphi  was  compiled  partly  from  Menander  and 
partly  from  Diphilus. 

•  Introduction  to  Terbnce,  p.  6  fBell,  1860). 

*  Professor  Jebb,  Primer  of  Qredk  Literature,  p.  101. 

»  m  sup.,  p.  7.  '  El.,  iv.  21   27. 


He  elsewhere  speaks  of  him  as  "mundus  Menander, 
neat,  terse,  and  lu-bane;  and  his  skill  in  depicting  th« 
character  of  a  fascinating  Thais  is  alluded  to  here  and 
in  ii.  6,  3  : — 

**  Turba  Menandreie  fuerat  ncc  Tlraidos  olim 
Tanta,  in  qua  populus  lusit  Erichtboiiius." 

'Of  this  comedy,  the  Tliais,  Professor  MahaSy  remarks 
that-  perhaps  it  was  the  most  brilliant  of  Menander's  plays. 
"  the  manners  and  characters  of  the  personage  being  painted 
with  thorough  experience  as  well  as  genius."  Nevertheless, 
only  five  verses  of  this  play  have  been  preserved  to  us,  one 
of  which  is  that  quoted  by  St  Paul  (1  Cor.  xv.  33),  "Evil 
communications  corrupt  good  manners."  The  same  critic, 
in  praising  Menander's  stylo  as  the  purest  model  of  the 
New  Attic,  observes  that  a  remarkable  feature  of  the  New 
Comedy  was  "  its  utter  avoidance  of  rhetoric "  (p.  489). 
The  influence  which  this  art  had  on  Euripides  is  well 
known.  Sophocles  was  not  whoUy  exempt  from  a  kind  of  . 
rhetorical  pedantry,  and  the  speeches  in  Thucydides  are 
so  many  exercises  of  the  author  in  that  art.  But,  as 
rhetoric  pertained  essentially  to  public  life,  it  was  likely 
to  have  a  much  less  scope  in  scenes  borrowed  almost  solely 
from  social  and  domestic  experiences. 

Menander,  however,  did  not  neglect  the  other  branch  of 
a  liberal  Attic  education, — phOosophy.  A  follower  and  a 
friend  of  Epicurus,  whose  summum  bonum  was  the  greatest 
amount  of  enjoyment  to  be  got  out  of  life,  he  carried  out 
in  practice  what .  he  advocated  by  precept ;  for  he  was 
essentially  the  well-to-do  gentleman,^  and  moved  in  the 
upper  circles  of  Athenian  society.  "  The  philosophers  of 
the  day  "  {i.e.,  the  schools  and  universities  in  our  modern 
systems  of  teaching)  "  were  still,"  says  Professor  Mahaffy,' 
viz.,  even  during  the  period  of  the  New  Comedy,  "  the  con- 
stant butt  of  the  dramatists."  He  adds  that,  "  what  is 
still  stranger,  political  attacks  on  living  personages,  not 
excepting  Alexander  the  Great,  were  freely  .and  boldly 
made." 

On  the  whole,  our  estimate  of  the  spirit  and  object  of  Menander 
must  be  formed  rather  from  bis  imitator  and  copyist  Terence  than 
from  the  fragments  which  remain,  about  2400  verses  in  all,  as  col- 
lected by  Meineke  in  bis  Fragmcnia  Comicorum  Ormcontm.  For, 
as  Professor  MahafFy  vrell  observes,^"  tho  extracts  made  by 
Athenseus,  our  principal  authority,  have  reference  chiefly  to  "the 
arcbaiology  of  cooks  and  cookery,"  while  Stobaus  was  a  collector  of 
■yvoj^ai  or  wise  maxims,  —  "a  most  unfortunate  and  worthless  kind 
of  citation. "  It  follows  that  no  sound  conclusions  as  to  dramatic 
genius,  or  of  the  knowledge  of  human  nature,  can  be  drawn  from 
detached  i-erses  preserved  without  the  least  reference  to  these  par- 
ticular points.  The  exb-aordinary  popularity  of  Menander  must 
have  been  due  to  literary  merh,  if  not  to  great  originality.  Mr 
Mabaffy  observes  on  this"  that  "  there  is  so  much  of  a  calm  gentle- 
manly morality  about  his  fragments,  be  is  so  excellent  a  t4:acher 
of  the  ordinary  world-wisdom — resignation,  good  temper,  modera- 
tion, friendliness— that  we  can  well  understand  tl<.is  popul.'.ri  Sy. 
Copies  of  his  plays  continued  loug  in  existence,  and  were  cert-uulj- 
known  to  Suidas  and  Eustathius  as  late  as  tho  11th  and  12th  cen- 
tmics,  if  they  did  not  survive  to  a  yet  later  period.'*' 

In  respect  of  language,  Menander  occupies  the  same  position  in 
poetry  wliich  his  contemporary  Demosthenes  does  in  prose.  In  botli 
the  New  Attic  is  elaborated  with  great  finish,  and  with  much  greater 
grammatical  precision  than  wo  find  in  WTitcrs  of  the  Old  Attic,  such 
as  Sophocles  and  Thucydides,  A  considerable  addition  to  the 
vocabulary  of  evcry-day  life  had  now  been  nuide,  aa  was  indeed 
inevitable  from  the  veraitile  character  of  the  language  and  the 
genius  of  the  people  who  used  it.  Many  new  verb-forms,  cspccialk 
the  perfect  active,"  now  occur,  and  indeed  form  a  characteristic 
innovatnou  of  tho  style  of  Plato,  The  earlier  prose  was  in  its 
general  vocabulary  to  a  considerable  extent  jioetical.  and  such  a 
concurrence  of  short  syllables  as  in  tho  Platonic  diroScSoKijaaK^Tcr 


\ 


7  Hist.  Class.  Gr.  Lit.,  i.  p.  483. 

*  Pliny  calls  Menander  "diligeuti^simus  lururiSB  intcrprcs,"  N.  //., 
xxxvi.  5. 
"  ilist^  Clcvss.  Gr,  Lit.,  i.  p.  480..  ^°  Ibid.,  p.  480. 

"  Ibid.,  p.  487.  "  Ibid.,  p.  490. 

^^  A  curious  example  ia  airfHrdyKafftt  the  -transitive  perfect  of 
iLvoKTtlvtiy.  Stniilarly  we  hare  the  unnsQal  forms  K4xpVita  (fragp 
'559),  i^p6<pnKa  {"^^y),  ffiryK^Xi"**  (810). 


MENDELSSOHN 


in  thickness "  anything  he  had  attempted.  From  letters 
written  at  this  period  we  leam  that  Felix's  estimate  of  the 
French  school  of  music  was  very  far  from  a  flattering 
one  •  but  he  formed  some  friendships  in  Paris,  which 
were  pleasantly  renewed  on  later  occasions.  He  returned 
to  Berlin  with  his  father  in  May  1825,  taking  leave  of 
his  Parisian  friends  on  the  19th  of  the  month,  and 
interrupting  his  journey  at  Weimar  for  the  piu-pose  of 
myin"  a  second  visit  to  Goethe,  to  whom  he  dedicated  his 
quartctt  in  B  minor.  On  reaching  home  he  must  have 
fallen  to  work  with  greater  zeal  than  ever;  for  on  the 
23d  of  July  in  this  same  year  he  completed  his  pianoforte 
capriccio  in  F  sharp  minor  (Op.  5),  and  on  the  10th  of 
August  an  opera,  in  two  acts,  called  Die  Ilochseit  des 
CamacJi.0,  a  work  of  considerable  importance,  concerning 
which  WB  shall  presently  have  to  speak  more  particularly. 

No  ordinary  boy  could  have  escaped  uninjured  from 
the  snares  attendant  upon  such  a  life  as  that  which 
Mendelssohn  now  lived.  Notwithstanding  his  overwhelm- 
ing passion  for  music,  his  general  education  had  been  so 
well  cared  for  that  he  was  able  to  hold  his  own,  in  the 
society  of  his  seniors,  with  the  easy  grace  of  an  acec  jnplishcd 
man  of  the  world.  He  was  already  recognized  as  a  lead- 
ing spirit  by  the  artists  with  whom  he  associated,  and 
these  artists  were  men  of  acknowledged  talent  and  position. 
Vhe  temptations  to  egoism  by  which  he  was  surrounded 
would  have  rendered  most  clever  students  intolerable.  But 
the  natural  amiability  of  his  disposition,  and  the  healthy 
influence  of  his  happy  home-life,  counteracted  aU  tendencies 
towards-  inordinate  self-assertion ;  and  he  is  described  by 
all  who  knew  him  at  this  period  as  the  most  charming 
boy  imaginable.  Even  Zelter,  though  by  nature  no  less 
repressive  than  Cherubini,-  was  not  ashamed  to  show  that 
he  was  proud  of  him;  and  Moscheles,  whose  name  was 
already  famous,  met  him  from  the  first  on  equal  terms. 

Soon  after  his  return  from  Paris,  Abraham  Mendelssohn 
removed  from  his  mother's  residence  to  No.  3  Leipziger 
Strasse,  a  roomy,  old-fashioned  house,  containing  an 
excellent  music-room,  and  in  the  grounds  adjoining  a 
"  Gartenhaus  "  capable  of  accommodating  several  hundred 
persons  at  the  Sunday  performances.^  In  the  autumn 
of  the  following  year  this  "garden-house"  witnessed  a 
memorable  private  performance  of  the  work  by  means  of 
which  the  gi-eatness  of  Mendelssohn's  genius  was  first 
revealed  to  the  outer  world — the  overtm-e  to  Shake-speare's 
Midsummer  Night's  Dream.  Tlie  finished  score  of  this 
famous  composition  is  dated  "Berlin,  August  6,  1826," — 
that  is  to  say,  three  days  after  its  author  had  attained  the 
age  of  seventeen  years  and  a  half.  Yet  we  may  safely 
assert  that  in  no  later  work  does  he  exhibit  more  originality 
of  thought,  more  freshness  of  conception,  or  more  perfect 
mastery  over  the  detaUs  of  technical  construction,  than 
in  this  delightful  inspiration,  which,  though  now  nearly 
sixty  years  old,  still  holds  its  place  at  the  head  of  the  most 
brilliant  achievements  of  our  modem  schools.  The  over- 
ture was  first  publicly  performed  at  Stettin,  in  February 
J1827,  under  the  direction  of  the  young  composer,  who 
with  this  bright  patent  of  artistic  nobility  to  support  his 
daim,  was  at  once  accepted  as  the  leader  of  a  new  and 
highly  characteristic  manifestation  of  the  spirit  of  modem 
progress.  Henceforth  therefore  we  must  speak  of  him,  not 
as  a  student,  but  as  a  mature  and  experienced  artist. 

Meanwhile  Camacho's  Wedding  had  been  submitted  to 
Hcrr  General-Musik-Director  Spontini,-  with  a  view  to  its 
production  at  the  opera.  The  libretto,  founded  upon  an 
episode  in  the  history  of  Don  Quixote,  was  written  by 
Klingemann,  and  Mendelssohn  threw  himself  into  the  spirit 


''  ^  After  MendelBSohn's  death  this  hoose  was  sold  to  the  Fmasiau 
Govenimeiit ;  and  tho  "  Herrenhaas  "  now  stands  on  the  site  of  the 
garden-boQSc. 


of  the  romance  with  a  keen  perception  of  its  peculiar 
humour.  The  work  was  put  into  rehearsal  soon  ajfter  the 
composer's  return  from  Stettin,  produced  on  April  29, 
1827,  and  received  with  great  apparent  enthusiasm;  but, 
for  some  reason  which  it  is  now  impossible  to  ascertain, 
a  cabal  was  formed  against  it,  and  it  never  reached  a  second 
performance.  The  critics  abused  it  mercilessly;  yet  it 
exhibits  merits  of  a  very  high  order.  The  solemn  passage 
for  the  trombones,  which  heralds  the  first  appearance  of 
the  knight  of  La  Mancha,  is  conceived  in  a  spirit  of 
reverent  appreciation  of  the  idea  of  Cervantes,  which 
would  have  done  honour  to  a  composer  of  lifelong 
experience.  Even  the  critics  suborned  to  condemn  the 
work  could  not  refrain  from  expressing  their  admiration 
of  this;  but  it  had  been  decreed  that  the  opera  should 
not  live — and  it  did  not. 

Mendelssohn  was  excessively  annoyed  at  tliis  injustice, 
and  sorne  time  elapsed  before  his  mind  recovered  ite  usual 
bright  tone ;  but  he  continued  to  work  diligently  for  the 
cause  of  art.  Among  other  serious  imdertakings,  he 
formed  a  choir  for  the  study  of  the  great  choral  works 
of  Sebastian  Bach,  then  entirely  unknov.-n  to  the  public ; 
and,  in  spite  of  Zelter's  determined  opposition,  he  suc- 
ceeded, in  1829,  in  inducing  the  BerUn  Singakademie 
to  give  a  public  performance  of  the  Passion  according  to 
St  Matthew,  under  his  direction,  with  a  chorus  of  between 
three  and  four  hundred  voices.  The  scheme  succeeded 
beyond  his  warmest  hopes,  and  proved  the  means  of 
restoring  to  the  world  great  compositions  with  which  we 
are  all  now  familiar,  but  which,  at  that  time,  had  never  been 
heard  since  the  death  of  Bach.  But  the  obstructive  party 
were  grievously  offended ;  and  at  this  period  Mendelssoha 
was  far  from  popular  among  the  musicians  of  Berlin 

In  April  1829  Mendelssohn  paid  his  first  visit  lO 
London.  His  reception  was  most  enthusiastic.  He  made 
his  first  appearance  before  an  English  audience  at  one  of 
the  Philharmonio  Society's  concerts — then  held  in  the 
Argyll  Rooms — on  the  25th  of  May,  conducting  his 
symphony  in  C  minor  from  the  pianoforte,  to  which  he  was 
led  by  John  Cramer.  On  the  30th  he  played  Weber's 
ConccrtstUck,  from  memory,  a  proceeding  at  that  time 
extremely  unusuaL  At  a  concert  given  by  Drouet,  on  the 
24th  of  June,  he  played  Beethoven's  pianoforte  concerto  in 
E  flat,  which  had  never  before  been  heard  in  the  country ; 
and  the  overture  to  A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream  was  also, 
for  the  first  time,  presented  to  a  London  audience.  On 
returning  home  from  the  concert,  Mr  Attwood,  then 
organist  of  St  Paul's  Cathedral,  left  the  score  of  the 
overture  in  a  hackney  coach,  whereupon  Mendelssohn 
wrote  out  another,  from  memory,  without  an  error.  At 
another  concert  he  played,  with  Moscheles,  his  still  un- 
published concerto  in  E,  for  two  pianofortes  and  orchestra. 
After  the  close  of  the  London  season"  he  started  with 
Klingemann  on  a  tour  through  Scotland,  where  he  was 
inspired  with  the  first  idea  of  his  overtiu-e  to  The  Isks 
of  Fingal,  returning  to  Berlin  at  the  end  of  November: 
Except  for  an  accident  to  his  knee,  which  lamed  him  for 
some  considerable  time,  his  visit  was  a  highly  successful 
one,  and  laid  the  fotmdation  of  many  firm  friendships  and 
many  prosperous  negotiations  in  the  time  to  come. 

The  visit  to  England  formed  in  reality  the  first  division 
only  of  a  great  scheme  of  travel  which  his  father  wished 
him  to  extend  to  all  the  most  important  art  centres  in 
Europe.  After  refusing  the  offer  of  a  professorship  at 
Berlin,  he  started  again,  in  May  1830,  for  Italy,  pausing 
on  his  way  at  Weimar,  where  he  spent  a  memorable  fort- 
night with  Goethe,  and  reaching  Rome,  after  many  pleasant 
intemiptions,  on  November  1.  No  possible  form  of 
excitement  ever  prevented  him  from  devoting  a  certain 
time  every  day  to  composition ;  but  he  lost  no  opportunitj; 


B 


MENDELSSOHN 


of  studying  either  the  countless  treasures  which  form  the 
chief  glory  of  the  great  city  of  the  manners  and  customs  of 
modern  Romans.  He  attended,  with  insatiable  curiosity, 
the  services  in  the  Sistine  Chapel ;  and  his  keen  power  of 
observation  enabled  him  to  throw  much  interesting  light 
upon  thera.  His  letters  on  this  subject,  however,  lose 
much  of  their  value  through  his  incapacity  to  comprehend 
the  close  relation  existing  between  the  music  of  Palestrina 
and  his  contemporaries  and  the  ritual  of  the  Roman 
Church.  His  Lutheran  education  kept  him  in  ignorance 
even  of  the  first  principles  of  ordinary  chanting;  and  it 
is  amusing  to  find  him  describing  as  enormities  peculiar 
to  the  papal  choir  customs  familiar  to  every  village  singer 
in  England,  and  as  closely  connected  with  the  structure  of 
the  "  Anglican  chant "  as  with  that  of  "  Gregorian  music." 
Still,  though  he  could  not  agree,  in  all  points,  with  Baini, 
the  greatest  ecclesiastical  musician  then  living,  he  fuUy 
shared  his  admiration  for  the  Jmproperia,  the  Miserere,  and 
the  cantiis  planum  of  the  Lamentationes  and  the  Emdtet, 
the  musical  beauty  of  which  ho  could  understand,  apart 
from  their  ritual  significance. 

In  passing  through  Munich  on  his  return  in  October  1831, 
he  composed  and  played  his  pianoforte  concerto  in  G  minor, 
and  accepted  a  commission  (never  fulfilled)  to  compose  an 
opera  for  the  Munich  theatre.  Pausing  for  a  time  at 
Stuttgart,  Frankfort,  and  Diisseldorf,  he  arrived  in  Paris 
in  December,  and  passed  four  pleasant  mouths  in  the 
renewal  of  acquaintances  formed  in  1825,  and  in  close 
intercourse  with  Liszt  and  Chopin.  On  February  19, 
1832,  the  overture  to  A  Midsv.mm.sr  Night's  Dream  was 
played  at  the  conservatoire,  and  many  of  his  other  com- 
j.ositions  were  brought  before  the  public ;  but  he  did  not 
!,itogether  escape  disappointments  with  regard  to  some  of 
them,  especially  the  Reformation  symphony,  and  the  visit 
was  brought  to  a  premature  close  in  March  by  an  attack 
nf  cholera,  from  which,  however,  he  rapidly  recovered. 

On  the  23d  of  April  1832  ho  was  again  in  London, 
where  he  t\vice  played  his  G  minor  concerto  at  the 
Philharmonic  concerts,  gave  a  performance  on  the  organ 
it  St  Paul's,  and  published  his  first  book  of  Lieder  ohne 
Worte.  He  returned  to  Berlin  in  July,  and  during  the 
winter  he  gave  public  performances  of  his  Reformation 
symphony,  his  concerto  in  G  minor,  and  his  Walpur- 
gisnacht.  In  the  following  spring  he  paid  a  third  visit 
to  London  for  the  purpose  of  conducting  his  Italian 
symphony,  which  was  played  for  the  first  time,  by  the 
Philharmonic  Society,  on  the  13th  of  May  1833.  On  the 
26th  of  the  same  month  he  conducted  the  performances  at 
the  Lower  Rhino  festival  at  Diisseldorf,  with  such  brilliant 
effect  that  he  was  at  once  in'.-ited  to  accept  the  appointment 
of  general-music-director  to  the  town,  an  office  which 
included  the  management  of  tho  music  in  the  principal 
churches,  at  the  theatre,  and  at  the  rooms  of  two  musical 
associations.  This  post  he  willingly  accepted,  and  it  formed 
a  stepping-stone  to  a  far  more  important  one. 

Before  entering  upon  his  now  duties,  Mendelssohn  paid 
B  fourth  visit  to  London,  with  his  father,  returning  to 
Diisseldorf  on  the  27th  of  September  1833.  His  iiilluenco 
produced  an  excellent  effect  upon  the  church  music  and  in 
tho  concert-room  ;  but  his  relations  with  tho  'management 
of  the  theatre  wore  not  altogether  pleasant ;  and  it  was 
probably  this  circumstance  which  first  led  him  to  forsake 
the  cultivation  of  the  opera  for  that  of  sacred  music.  At 
Diisseldorf  he  first  designed  his  famous  oratorio  St  Panl, 
in  response  to  an  application  from  tho  Ciicilien-Vcvcin  at 
Frankfort,  composed  his  overture  to  Die  schiitie  Mrlusine, 
and  planned  some  other  works  of  importance.  He  liked  his 
appointment,  and  would  probably  have  retained  it  much 
longer  had  he  not  been  invited  to  undertake  the  permanent 
direction  of  the  Oowandhaus  concerts  at  Leipsic,  and  thus 


raised  to  the  highest  position  attainable  in  the  Gemma 
musical  world.  To  this  new  sphere  of  labour  he  removed 
in  August  1835,  opening  the  first  concert  at  the  Gewand- 
haus,  on  the  4th  of  October,  with  his  overture  Die 
Meeresstille,  a  work  possessing  great  attractions,  though 
by  no  means  on  a  level  with  the  Midsummer  NigMt 
Dream,  The  Isles  of  Fingal,  or  Melusine. 

Mendelssohn's  reception  in  Leipsic  was  most  enthusiastic; 
and  under  their  new  director  the  Gewandhaus  concerts 
prospered  exceedingly.  Meanwhile  St  Paid  steadily  pro- 
gressed, and  was  first  produced,  with  triumphant  success, 
at  the  Lower  Rhine  festival  at  Diisseldorf,  on  May  22, 
1836.  On  October  3  it  was  first  sung  in  English,  at 
Liverpool,  under  the  direction  of  Sir  George  Smart ;  and 
on  March  16,  1837,  Mendelssohn  again  dii-ected  it  at 
Leipsic. 

The  next  great  event  in  Mendelssohn's  life  was  his  happy 
marriage,  on  March  28,  1837,  to  Cecile  Charlotte  Sophie 
Jeanrenaud,  whose  amiable  disposition,  surpassing  beauty, 
and  indescribable  charm  of  manner  endeared  her  to  all 
who  knew  her.  The  honeymoon  was  scarcely  over  before 
he  was  again  summoned  to  England  to  conduct  St  Paid, 
at  the  Birmingham  festival,  on  September  20th.  During 
this  visit  he  played  on  tho  organ  at  St  Paul's  and  at 
Christ  Church,  Newgate  Street,  with  an  effect  which 
exercised  a  lasting  influence  upon  English  organists.  It 
was  here  also  that  he  first  contemplated  tho  production 
of  his  second  oratorio,  Elijah. 

Passing  over  the  composition  of  the  Lohgesang  in  1S40, 
a  sixth  visit  to  England  in  the  same  year,  the  scheme  for 
the  erection  of  a  monument  to  Sebastian  Bach,  and  other 
events  on  which  space  does  not  permit  us  to  enlarge,  we  find 
Mendelssohn  in  1841  recalled  to  Berhn  by  the  king  of 
Prussia,  with  the  title  of  Kapellmeister.  Though  this 
appointment  resulted  in  the  production  of  Antigone,  CEdipus 
Coloneus,  Aihalie,  the  incidental  music  to  the  Midsummer 
Nights  Dream,  and  other  great  works,  it  proved  an  endless 
source  of  vexation,  and  certainly  helped  to  shorten  the  com- 
poser's life.  In  1842  he  came  to  England  for  the  seventh 
time,-  accompanied  by  his  wife,  conducted  his  Scotch 
symphony  at  the  Philharmonic,  again  played  the  organ  at 
St  Peter'.s,  Cornhill,  and  Christ  Church,  Newgate  Street, 
and  v/as  received  with  all  possible  honour  by  the  queen  and 
the  prince  consort.  He  did  not,  however,  permit  ]iis  new 
engagements  to  interfere  with  the  direction  of  the  Gewand- 
haus concerUi ;  and  in  1843  he  founded  in  Leipsic  the  great 
conservatoire  which  soon  became  the  best  musical  college 
in  Europe,  opening  it  on  April  3,  in  the  buildings  of  the 
Gewandhaus.  In  1844  he  conducted  six  of  the  Philhar- 
monic concerts  in  London,  producing  his  new  Midsummer 
Xighi's  Dream  music,  and  playing  Beethoven's  pianoforte 
concerto  in  Q  with  extraordinary  effect.  Ho  returned  to 
his  duties  at  Berlin  in  September,  but  liappily  succeeded 
in  persuading  tho  king  to  free  him  from  his  most  onerous 
engagements,  and  his  delight  at  this  relief  was  un- 
bounded. 

After  a  brief  residence  in  Frankfort,  Mendelssohn 
returned  to  Leipsic  in  September  1845,  resuming  his 
old  duties  at  the  Gev/andhaas,  and  teaching  regularly 
in  tho  conservatoire.  Here  he  remained,  ^vith  little  in- 
tcrniption,  during  tho  winter, — introducing  his  friend 
Jenny  Liud,  then  at  the  height  of  her  popularity,  to 
the  critical  frequenters  of  the  Gewandhaus,  and  steadily 
working  at  Elijah,  the  first  performance  of  which  he  con- 
ducted at  the  Birmingham  festival,  on  August  26,  1846. 
The  enthusiastic  reception  of  this  great  work  is  well  known. 
Unhappily,  the  excitement  attendant  upon  its  production, 
added  to  the  irritating  effect  of  tho  worries  at  Berlin,  made 
a  serious  inroad  upon  the  composer's  health.  On  his 
return  to  Leipsic  '  ho  worked  on  as  usual,  but  it  was 


M  E  N  — M  E  N 


clear  that  his  health  was  serioosly  impaired  In  1847  he 
visited  England  for  the  tenth  and  last  time,  to  conduct  four 
performances  of  Elijah  at  Exeter  Hall,  on  the  16th,  23d, 
28th,  and  30th  of  April,  one  at  Manchester  on  the  20th, 
and  one  at  Birmingham  on  the  27th.  Again  the  queen 
and  prince  consort  received  him  with  marked  respect, — 
one  might  almost  venture  to  say,  affection, — and  all  seemed 
prosperous  and  happy.  But  the  necessary  exertion  was 
far  beyond  his  strength.  He  witnessed  Jenny  Lind's  first 
appearance  at  Her  Majesty's  Theatre,  on  the  4th  of  May,  and 
left  England  on  the  9th,  little  anticipating  the  trial  that 
awaited  him  in  the  tidings  of  the  sudden  death  of  his  sister 
Fanny,  which  reached  him  only  a  few  days  after  his  arrival 
in  Frankfort.  The  loss  of  his  mother-in  1842  had  shaken 
him  much,  but  the  suddenness  with  which  this  last  sad 
intelligence  was  communicated  broke  him  down  com- 
pletely. He  fell  to  the  ground  insensible,  and  never  fully 
recovered.  In  June  he  was  'so  far  himself  again  that  he 
was  able 'to  travel,  with  his  family,  by  short  stages,  to 
Interlaken,  where  he  stayed  for  some  time,  illustrating 
the  journey  by  a  series  of  water-colour  drawings,  but 
making  no  attempt  at  composition  for  many  weeks.  He 
returned  to  Leipsic  in  September,  bringing  with  him 
frag'ments  of  Christxts,  Lorelei/,  and  some  other  unfinished 
works,  taking  no  part  in  the  concerts,  and  living  in  the 
strictest  privacy.  On  the  9th  of  October  he  called  on 
Madame  Frege,  and  asked  her  to  sing  his  latest  set  of  songs. 
Sh^  left  the  room  for  lights,  and  on  her  return  found  him 
in  violent  pain,  and  almost  insensible.  It  was  the  begin- 
ning of  the  end.  He  lingered  on,  now  better  now  worse, 
through  four  weary  weeks,  and  on  the  4th  of  November 
he  passed  away,  in  the  presence  of  his  wife,  his  brother, 
and  his  three  dear  friends,  Moscheles,  Schleinitz,  and 
Ferdinand  David.  A  cross  nov  marks  the  site  of  his 
grave,  in  the  Alte  Dreifaltigkeits  Kirchhof,  at  Berlin. 

Mendelssohn's  title  to  a  place  among  the  greatest  composers  of 
the  c«ntury  is  incontestable.  His  style,  though  differing  bnt  little 
in  technical  arrangement  from  that  of  his  classical  predecessors,  is 
characteriied  by  a  vein  of  melody  peculiarly  hi3  own,  and  easily 
distinguishable  by  those  who  have  studied  his  vioxVa,  not  only 
fh)m  the  genuine  effusions  of  contemporary  writers,  but  from  tJie 
most  successful  of  the  servile  imitations  with  which,  even  during 
his  lifetime,  the  music-shops  were  deluged.  In  less  judicious  hands 
the  rigid  symmetry  of  his  phrasing  might,  perhaps,  have  palled 
apou  the  car ;  but  under  his  skilful  management  it  serves  only  to 
impart  an  additional  charm  to  thoughts  which  derive  their  chief 
beauty  from  the  evident  spontaneity  of  their  conception.  In  this, 
as  in  all  other  matters  of  a  purely  technical  character,  he  regarded 
the  accepted  laws  of  art  as  the  medium  by  which  he  might  most 
certainly  attain  the  ends  dictated  by  the  inspiration  of  his  genius. 
lliongh  caring  nothing  for  rules,  except  as  means  for  producing 
a  good  effect,  he  scarcely  ever  violated  them,  and  was  never  weary  of 
impressing  their  value  upon  the  minds  of  his  pupils.  His  method 
of  counterpoint  was  modelled  in  close  accordance  with  that  practised 
by  Sebastian  Bach.  This  he  used  in  combination  with  an  elastic 
development  of  the  sonata-form,  similar  to  that  engrafted  by 
Beethoven  upon  the  lines  laid  down  by  Haydn.  The  principles 
involved  in  this  arrangement-were  strictly  conservative ;  yet  tney 
enabled  him,  at  the  very  outset  of  hia  career,"to  invent  a  new  style 
no  less  original  than  that  of  Schubert  or  Weber,  and  no  less  re- 
markable as  the  embodiment  of  canons  already  consecrated  by 
classical  authority  than  as  a  special  manifestation  of  individual 
^nins.  It  is  thus  that  Mendelssohn  stands  before  us  as  at  the  same 
time  a  champion  of  conservatism  and  an  apostle  of  progress  ;  and 
it  is  chiefly  by  virtue  of  these  two  apparently  iucongnious  though 
really  perfectly  compatible  phases  of  his  artistic  character  that  his 
influence  and  example  have,  for  so  many  years,  held  in  check  tlie 
violence  of  rea<;tionary  opinion  which  a  littlb  injudicious  en- 
couragement might  easily  have  fanned  into  revolutionary  fury. 
Happily,  this  wholesome  influence  is  still  at  work  among  us  ;  and 
in  his  oratorios,  his  symphonies,  his  overtures,  his  concertos,  and 
his  smaller  pianoforte  pieces  Mendelssohn  sets  before  us  an  ex- 
ample the  value  of  which  is  univarsally  recognized,  and  not  likely  to 
be  soon  forgotten. 

I  Concerning  Mendelssohn's  private  character  there  have  never 
l)cen  two  npmions.  As  a  man  of  the  world,  ho  was  more  than  ordi- 
"carily  accomplished, — brilliant  in  conversation,  and  in  his  lighter 
momenta  overflowing  with  sparkling  humour  and  ready  pleasantry, 


loyal  and  unselfish  in  the  more  serious  bnsinesa  of  life,  and  never 
weary  of  working  for  the  general  good.  As  a  friend  he  was  un- 
varyingly kind,  sympathetic,  and  as  tree  as  steel.  His  earnestness 
as  a  Christian  needs  no  stronger  testimony  than  that  afforded  by 
his  own  delineation  of  the  character  of  St  Paul ;  but  it  is  not  too 
much  to  say  that  his  heart  and  life  were  pure  as  those  of  a  little 
child. 

A  complete  list  of  Mendelssohn's  published  compositions— «ne  hundred  and  nine- 
teen In  number,  besides  some  flvo  and  twenty  unnnmbercd  Troilu  of  considerable 
Importance — will  be  found  In  the-themnllc  catalogue  published  by  Hesara  Brelt- 
kopf  and  Hartel  at  Lelpslc,  ond  also  In  Grove's  Dictionai-y  of  Muaie  and 
Muiicians,  vol  U,  pp.  3«8,  309.  Among  bis  miscellaneous  writings,  we  mny  men- 
tion a  translation  of  the  Andria  of  Terence,  In  German  wrso,  and  on  Immense 
collection  of  letters,  po9tlinmou5ly  printed,  and  calculated  to  give  the  reader 
a  for  closer  acquaintance  with  his  life  and  character  than  any  bloeru];ilier  can  hope 
to  convey.  (w.  S.  R.) 

MENDELSSOBLN,  Moses  (1729-178G),  philosopher 
and  scholar,  well  kno'wn  as  Lessing's  friend  and  the  proto- 
type of  his  "Nathan,"  was  bom  on  September  6,  1729,  at 
Dessau  on  the  Elbe,  where  his  Jewish  father  made  a  scanty 
livelihood  by  teaching  a  small  school  and  transcribing 
copies  of  the  "  law."  The  leading  events  of  Mendelssohn's 
career  have  been  indicated  elsewhere  (see  Jews,  vol  iHii, 
p.  680).  His  numerous  writings  include  Ueber  Evident 
in  metaphysischen  Wissenschaften,  (1763),  which  gained 
the  prize  in  a  competition  in  which  Immanuel  Kant  took 
part;  Brief e  iiber  die  Empjinduitff  en  (1764)  ;  Phxdon,  oder 
iiber  die  UiisierblicMxit  der  Seele  (1767),  an  argument  foi 
immortality,  founded  on  the  nature  of  the  soul  as  exempt- 
ing it  from  the  ordinary  laws  of  change,  which  has  been 
severely  criticized  by  Kant ;  Jerusalem,  oder  die  religiiist 
AfachtundJudentkum  (1783),  a  specially  important  con- 
tribution to  the  question  of  Jewish  emancipation ;  a 
number  of  contributions  to  his  friend  Nicolai's  Literatur- 
brie/en  and  Bibliothek  der  schijnen  Wissenscha/ten ;  one  or 
two  tracts  in  Hebrew ;  and  some  new  German  translations 
from  the  Old  Testament.  The  controversy  which  led  to 
the  publication  of  his  Morgenslunden  (1785-86),  a  reply 
to  Jacobi's  Brief e  iiber  die  Lehre  Spinoza's,  is  said  to  have 
been  more  or  less  directly  the  cause  of  his  death,  which 
took  place  on  January  4,  1786  (see  Jacobi,  vol.  xiii.  p. 
537).  Of  Mendelssohn's  three  sons,  the  second,  Abraham, 
settled  as  °a  banker  in  Hamburg  and  married  a  Jewess,  Lea 
Salomon  Bartholdy,  who  bore  him  four  children ;  these,  by 
advice  of  their  mother's  brother,  himself  a  conscientious 
convert  from  Judaism,  were  educated  as  Christians,  and 
thenceforth  joined  their  mother's  second  surname  to  their 
oivn.  The  second  of  them,  Felix,  is  the  subject  of  the 
preceding  notice.  In  later  life  Abraham  Mendelssohn 
was  accustomed  to  say, — "  When  I  was  young  I  was  the 
son  of  my  father ;  now  I  am  the  father  of  my  son."  See 
The  Mendelssohn  Family,  1882. 

MENDOZA,  a  city  of  the  Argentine  Eepublic,  the  only 
town  of  the  province  of  Mendoza,  lies  700  miles  west- 
north-west  of  Buenos  Ayres,  at  the  foot  of  the  Cordilleras, 
2510  feet  above  the  sea-level,  in  32°  63'  S.  lat.  and  68°  45' 
W.  long.  It  ivas  formerly  a  frequent  stopping-place  on  the 
route  across  the  Andes  by  the  Uspallata  Pass,  and  used  to 
rank  as  one  of  the  best-built  to'wns  in  the  country,  but  in 
1861  it  was  almost  completely  destroyed  by  an  appalling 
earthquake,  in  which  the  people,  for  the  most  part 
collected  in  the  churches,  perished  to  the  number  of 
about  12,000.  Bravard,  a  French  geobgist  who  had  often 
predicted  the  catastrophe,  was  one  of  those  wlio  perished. 
Extensive  ruins  still  mark  the  site  of  the  old  town ;  the 
new  toivn,  which  has  been  built  at  a  little  distance,  has 
grown  rapidly.  Situated  in  a  richly  cultivated  district, 
Mendoza  deoends  mainly  on  agriculture  and  fruit-growing. 
The  city  was  founded  in  1559  by  Garcia  de  Mendoza;  and  in 
1776  it  was  made  the  administrative  centra  of  the  vioc-royalty  of 
La  Plata.  See  Mulhall,  Handbook  of  the  La  Plata  Stales,  1875; 
and  Mre  Mulhall,  Between  the  Amazon  and  the  Andes,  1881i. 

MENDOZA,  Diego  Huetado  de  (c  1503-1575). 
novelist,  poet  diplomatist,  and  historian,  ■was  a  younger  son 
of  the  membet  of  the  illustrious  Mendoza  family  to  whom 
XVL  —  2 


10 


M  E  N  — M  E  N 


tho  government  rj  Granada  tvbs  entrusted  not  Ibng  after  ita 
RitrTfinder,  and  was  born  in  that  city  about  the  year  1503. 
The  marquis  of  SantiUana,  so  prominent  a  figure  at  the  court 
of  John  II.  of  Castile,  was  his  great-grandfather.  At  an 
early  age  Mendoza,  who  had  been  destined  for  the  church, 
was  sent  to  Sahimanca,  where  he  studied  with  success,  and 
also,  some  time  between  the  years  1520  and  1525,  produced 
his  Lazarillo  de  Tormes,  the  work  upon  which  his  literary 
celebrity  largely  rests.  Having  persuaded  his  father  to 
allow  him  to  enter  the  army,  he  served  with  the  Spanish 
troops  of  Charles  V.  in  Italy,  and  also  availed  himself  of 
opportunities  as  they  arose  to  hear  tho  lectures  of  famous 
professors  at  Bologna,  Padua,  and  Rome.  In  1538  he  was 
taken  into  the  diplomatic  service  of  the  emperor  and  sent  as 
ambassador  to  Venice ;  there  he  cultivated  friendly  relations 
with  the  Aldi,  and  energetically  set  about  collecting  a 
library,  not  only  procuring  copies  of  many  old  MSS.  in 
the  public  library  of  the  city,  but  also  sending  to  Thessaly 
and  Mount  Athos  for  new  ones ;  it  was  from  his  collection 
that  the  complete  text  of  Josephus  was  first  printed.  For 
some  time  he  held  the  post  of  military  governor  of  Siena  ;- 
and,  after  having  been  present  in  an  official  capacity  in 
Trent  at  the  beginning  of  the  cecumenical  council,  he  was  in 
1547  sent  as  special  plenipotentiary  to  Kome,  where  he 
continued  to  act  for  some  years.  In  1554,  shortly  before 
the  abdication  of  Charles,  he  was  recalled  to  Spain,  and  his 
official  career  came  to  an  end.  He  was  never  a  favourite 
with  Philip  n. ;  and  in  consequence  o£  a  quarrel  with  a 
courtier,  in  which  he  had  lost  his  temper  badly,  he  was 
finally  banished  from  court  in  1568.  The  remaining  years 
of  his  life,  which  were  spent  at  Granada,  he  devoted  partly 
to  the  study  of  Arabic,  partly  to  poetical  composition,  and 
partly  to  the  preparation  of  his  history  of  the  Moorish 
insurrection  of  1568-70  {Guerra  de  Granada)..  He  died 
at  Madrid  (which  he  had  obtained  leave  to  visit  on  some 
business  en"and)  in  April  1575. 

Mendoza's  Lazarillo  dc  Tormes,  though  written  during  his 
college  days,  was  not  published  until  1553,  when  it  was  printed 
anonymously  at  Antwerp.  Next  year  it  was  reprinted  at  Burgos, 
but  ultimately  it  was  taken  exception  to  by  the  Inquisition,  and  the 
Spanish  editions  of  1573  and  subsequent  years  are  accordingly  con- 
siderably abridged.  It  is  a  comparatively  short  fragment,  written 
in  vigorous  and  bright  Castilian,  and  was  the  first  example  in  modem 
literature  of  the  "  novela  picaresca"  of  which  Le  Sage's  Oil  Bias 
now  ranks  as  the  most  perfect  specimen.  The  continuations,  first 
by  an  anonymous  author  (1555)  and  afterwards  by  H.  dp  Luna  (1620), 
are  of  very  inferior  interest  Of  Mendoza  as  a  poet  all  that  need, 
be  said  hero  is  that  ho  followed  the  modem  Italian  models  quite  as 
far  as  was  compatible  with  a  due  regard  to  his  Castilian  individu- 
ality. His  history,  though  of  no  great  bulk,  is,  hke  his  novel,  a 
work  of  remarkable  literary  execution.  It  relates  indeed  only  to  a 
eomparatirely  brief  episode  in  a  chapter  of  events  for  which  it  is 
almost  impossible  to  claim  much  general  attention,  ,and  it  is  often 
needlessly  erudite  and  sometimes  provokingly  obscure.  But  as  a 
whole  itis  singularly  well-informed,  dignified,  and  picturesque ;  "  the 
style  is  bold  and  abi-upt,  but  true  to  the  idiom  of  the  language,  and 
the  current  of  thought  is  deep  and  strong,  easily  caiTying  the  reader 
onward  with  its  flood.  Nothing  in  the  old  chronicling  style  of  the 
earlier  period  is  to  be  compared  to  it,  and  Uttle  in  any  subsequent 
period  IS  equal  to  it  for  manliness,  vigour,  and  truth  "  (Tickno:-). 
The  first  edition  of  the  Giurra  de  Granada  did  not  appear  until 
1610,  hut  was  even  then  incomplete  ;  the  first  perfect  edition  was 
that  of  1730.     The  work  has  frequently  been  repnnted  since. 

MENDOZA,  Iniqo  Lopez  de.     See  SiNTiLLAffA. 

MENELAUS,  king  of  Sparta,  was  tho  brother  of 
Agajcemnon  {q.v.)  and  tho  husland  of  Helena  {q.'o.).  He 
was  one  of  the  heroes  of  the  Trojan  horse,  and  recovered 
Uis  wife  at  the  sack  of  the  city.  On  the  voyage  home- 
wards his  fleet  was  scattered  o£E  Malea  by  a  storm  which 
drove  him  to  Crete  ;  after  seven  years'  further  wandering 
to  Cyprus,  I'hrordcia,  Egypt,  Ethiopia,  Libya,  and  the 
fcountry  of  the  Erembi,  he  at  last  had  an  interview  with 
Proteus  and  obtained  a  favourable  \\'ind  which  brought  him 
home  on  tho  very  day  on  which  Orestes  was  holding  the 
funeral  feast  over  ^gisthus  and  Clytnemnestra.     After  a 


long  and  happy  life  in  Lacedsemon,  Menelaus,  as  the  son- 
in-law  of  Zeus,  did  not  die  but  was  translated  to  Elysium. 
MENGS,  Antony  Raphael  (1728-1779),  was  the  most 
celebrated  representative  of  the  eclectic  school  of  painting 
in  the  18th  century,  and  played  a  great  part  in- the  early 
days  of  the  Classic  revival.  Ho  was  born  in  1728  at  Anssig 
in  Bohemia,  but  his  father,  a  Danish  painter,  established 
himself  finaDy  at  Dresden,  whence  in  1741  he  conducted  his 
son  to  Rome.  Mengs  early  showed  that  active  intelligence 
and  large  capacity  for  laborious  study  which  secured  him 
the  extraordinary  distinction  which  he  enjoyed  through  life. 
His  appointment  in  1749  as  first  painter  to  the  elector  of 
Saxony  did  not  prevent  his  spending  much  time  in  Rome, 
where  he  had  married  in  1748,  and  abjured  the  Protestant 
faith,  and  where  he  l^ecame  in  1754  director  of  the  Vatican 
school  of  painting,  nor  did  this  hinder  him  on  two  occasions 
from  obeying  the  call  of  Charles  ITT  of  Sijain  to  Madrid. 
There  Mengs  produced  some  of  his  best  work,  and 
specially  the  ceiling  of  the  banqueting  hall,  the  subject  of 
which  was  the  Triumph  of  Trajan  and  the  Temple  of  Glory. 
After  the  completion  of  this  work  in  1777,  Mengs  again 
returned  to  Rome,  and  there  he  died,  two  years  later,  in 
poor  circumstances,  leaving  twenty  children,  seven  of  whom 
were  pensioned  by  the  king  of  Spain.  Besides  numerous 
paintings  in  the  Madrid  gallery,  the  Ascension  at  Dresden, 
Perseus  and  Andromeda  at  St  Petersburg,  and  the  ceding 
of  the  Villa  Albani  must  be  mentioned  among  his'  chief 
works.  In  England,  the  duke  of  Northumberland  pos- 
sesses a  Holy  Family,  and  the  colleges  of  All  Souls  and 
Magdalen,  at  Oxford,  have  altar-pieces  by  his  hand.  In 
his  -ivritings,  in  Sparush,  ItaUan,  and  German,  Mengs  has 
put  forth  his  eclectic  theory  of  art,  which  treats  of  per- 
fection as  attainable  by  a  well-schemed  combination  of 
diverse  excellences,— Greek  design,  with  the  expression 
of  Raphael,  the  chiaroscuro  of  Correggio,  and  the  colour 
of  Titian.  His  close  intimacy  with  Winkeknanu — who 
constantly  wrote  at  his  dictation — has  greatly  eahanced 
his  historical  importance,  for  he  formed  no  scholars,  and 
the  critic  must  now  concur  in  Goethe's  judgment  of  Mengs 
in  Winkelmanri  und  seine  Jahrhnnderi ;  he  must  deplore 
that  so  much  learning  should  have  been  allied  to  a  total 
want  of  initiative  and  utter  poverty  of  invention,  and 
embodied  ■with  a  strained  and  artificial  mannerism. 

See  Opere  di  Antonio  Raffaello  Mengs,  Parma,  1780  ;  Mengs' 
Wcrhe,  Uberseizt  v.  O.  F.  Frange,  17S6  ;  Zeitschrift  fUr  bildtiuU 
Kunst,  1880;  Bianconi,  Elogio  Storico  di  Mengs,  Milan,  1780; 
Nagler's  KiinstUrlexihon. 

MENHADEN,  economically  one  of  the  most  important 
fishes  of  the  United  States,  known  by  a  great  number 
of  local  names,  "menhaden"  and  "mossbimker"  being 
those  most  generally  in  use.  In  systematic  works  it  ap- 
pears under  the  names  of  Clitpea  menJuxdfn  and  Brcvoor- 
tia  tyrannus.  It  is  allied  to  the  European  .species  of  shad 
and  pilchard,  and,  like  the  latter,  approaches  the  coast  in  its 
wanderings  in  immense  shoals,  which  are  found  throughout 
the  year  in  some  part  of.  the  littoral  waters  between  Maine 
and  Florida,  the  northern  shoals  retiring  into  deeper  water 
or  to  more  southern  latitudes  with  the  approach  of  cold 
weather.  The  average  size  of  tho  menhaderf  is  about  12 
inches.  Although  it  was  long  known  as  a  palatable  table- 
fish,  and  largely  used,  when  salted,  for  export  to  the  West 
Indies,  and  as  bait  for  cod  and  mackerel,  tho  menhaden 
fishery  has  been  developed  to  its  present  importance  only 
witliin  the  last  twenty  years.  A  largo  fleet  of  steamers 
and  sailing  vessels  is  .engaged  in  it ;  and  a  great  number  of 
large  factories  have  sprung  into  existence  to  extract  the  oil, 
which  is  used  for  tanning  and  currying,  and  for  adulterat- 
ing other  more  expensive  oils,  and  to  manufacture  1  he  refuse 
into  a  very  valuable  guano.  In  the  year  1877  2,426,589 
gallons  of  oO  and  55,444  tons  of  guano  were  produced. 


M  E  N  — M  E  N 


11 


^n  extensive  business  is  also  carried  on  in  converting 
(Denhaden  of  a  suitable  size  into  "  American  sardines." 

A  very  complete  account  of  this  fishery  is  given  hy  G.  Brown 
Soode  iu  "The  Natural  and  Economic  History  of  the  American 
Uenhadcn,"  Uniled  Slates  Oommunon  »f  Fish  and  Fisheries,  part 
r.,  Washington,  1879. 

MENIN,  a  small  Belgian  town,  in  the  province  of  West 
Flanders;  it  is  traversed  by  the  river  Lys,  which  there 
forms  the  boundary  between  France  and  Belgium.  The 
population  in  1880  was  10,200.  Commercially  and 
iudustriaUy  Menin  ranks  high  for  its  size,  possessing,  os  it 
does,  important  manufactures  of  linen,  oil,  soap,  <Sic.,  as 
ivell  as  sugar  refineries,  breweries,  and  tanneries,  and  a 
jood  corn  ana  cattle  market.  Tobacco  is  extensively 
crown  in  the  neighbourhood,  and  forms  one  of  the  main 
ftems  of  lawful  trade,  a  good  deal  of  Ulicit  traffic  also  being 
Miried  on  across  the  French  frontier. 

Mcnin  does  not  appear  to  have  been  in  any  way  worthy  of  note 
antil  the  14th  century.  Philip  II.  caused  it  to  be  fortified  in  1578. 
It  was  takeu  by  Turenno  in  1668.  Vanban  subsequently  sur- 
rounded it  with  elaborate  works,  and  made  it  one  of  the  strongest 
citadels  in  France  ;  but  all  its  fortifications  were  razed  in  1744. 
It  belonged  to  the  Netherlands  in  1816,  and  became  part  of  Belgium 
In  1830. 

MENINGITIS  (from  /x^viyf,  a  membrane),  a  term  in 
medicine  applied  to  inflammation  afiecting  the  membranes 
of  the  brain  (cerebral  meningitis)  or  spinal  cord  (spindl 
meningitis)  or  both. 

Of  cerebral  meningitis  there  are  two  varieties  : — (1)  that 
due  to  the  presence  of  tubercle  in  the  membranes  of  the 
brain,  which  gives  rise  to  the  disease  known  as  tubercular 
meningitis,  or  acute  hydrocephalus ;  and  (2)  simple  or 
acute  meningitis,  which  may  arise  from  various  causes. 
Ajnong  the  more  common  are  injuries  of  the  head,  exten- 
sion of  discEise  from  contiguous  parts,  such  as  erysipelas  of 
the  scalp  or  caries  of  the  bones  of  the  ear,  exposure  to 
cold  or  to  extreme  heat,  the  presence  of  tumours  in  the 
substance  of  the  brain.  It  may  likewise  occur  in  the 
course  of  fevers,  rheumatism,  and  inflammatory  affections^ 
and  also  as  a  result  of  mental  overwork,  sleeplessness,  and 
alcoholic  excess.  This  latter  variety  of  meningitis  is  less 
common  than  the  former,  but  it  is  on  the  whole  more 
amenable  to  treatment.  The  symptoms  present  such  a 
general  resemblance  to  those  already  described  in  tubercular 
meningitis  that  it  is  unnecessary  to  refer  to  them  in  detail 
(see  HvDEOCEPiLiXUs),  and  the  treatment  is  essentially  the 
same  for  both. 

Spinal  meninf}itis,  or  inflammation  of  the  membranes 
investing  the  spinal  cord,  generallj'  results  from  causes  of 
a  similar  kind  to  those  producing  cerebral  meningitis, — 
injuries,  exposure  to  cold  or  sudden  changes  of  tempera- 
ture, diseases  affecting  adjacent  parts  such  as  the  vertebral 
column  or  the  spinal  cord  itself,  or  extension  downwards 
of  inflammation  of  the  membranes  of  the  brain.  It  is  said 
to  be  most  common  in  males.  As  in  the  case  of  the  brain, 
the  membranes  become  extremely  congested ;  exudation  of 
lymph  and  effusion  of  serum  follow ;  and  the  spinal  cord 
and  roots  of  the  nerves  become  more  or  less  involved  in 
the  morbid  process. 

The  chief  symptoms  are  fever,  with  severe  pain  in  the 
back  or  loins  shooting  downwards  into  the  limbs  (which 
are  the  seat  of  frequent  painful  involuntary  startings), 
accompanied  with  a  feeling  of  tightness  round  the  body. 
The  local  symptoms  bear  reference  to  the  portion  of  the 
cord  the  membranes  of , which  are  involved.  Thus  when 
the  inflammation  is  located  in  the  cervical  portion  the 
muscles  of  the  arms  and  chest  are  spasmodically  contracted, 
and  there  may  be  difficulty  of  swallowing  or  breathing,  or 
embarrassed  heart's  action,  while  when  the  disease  is  seated 
»in  the  lower  portion,  the  lower  limbs  and  the  bladder  and 
rectum  are  the  parts  affected  in  this  way.     At  first  there 


is  excited  sensibility  (hyperaesthesia)  in  the  parts  of  the 
surface  of  the  body  in  relation  with  the  portion  of  cord 
affected.  As  the  disease  advances  these  symptqnis  give 
place  to  those  of  partial  loss  of  power  in  the  affected 
muscles,  and  also  partial  anajsthesia.  These  various 
phenomena  may  entirely  pass  away,  and  the  patient  after 
some  weeks  or  months  recover ;  or,  on  the  other  hand,  they 
may  increase,  and  end  in  permanent  paralysis. 

The  treatment  is  directed  to  allaying  the  pain  and 
inflammatory  action  by  opiates.  Ergot  of  rye  is  strongly 
recommended  by  many  pliysicians.  The  patient  should 
have  perfect  rest  in  the  recumbent,  or  better  still  in  the 
prone,  position.  Cold  applications  to  the  spine  may  be  of 
use,  while  scrupulous  attention  to  the  functions  of  the 
bladder  and  bowels,  and  to  the  condition  of  the  akin  with 
the  view  of  preventing  bed-sores,  is  all-important. 

Epidemic  Cerebrospinal  Meniiujitis. — This  n.-iine,  as  well  as 
cerebrospinal  fever,  is  applied  to  a  dise.ise  defiueJ  iu  tlie  Nomcnela- 
ture  of  Liseases  as  "  a  malignant  epidemic  fever,  attended  by  painful 
contractions  of  the  muscles  of  the  neck  and  retraction  of  the  head. 
In  certain  epidemics  it  is  frequently  accornpauied  by  a  profuse  pur- 
puric eruption,  and  occasionally  by  cecondai-y  effusions  into  certain 
joints.  Lesions  of  the  braiu  and  spinal  cord  are  found  ou  dissection." 
This  disease  appears  to  have  been  first  distinctly  recognized  in  the 
year  1837,  when  it  prevailed  as  an  epidemic  in  the  south-west  ot 
France,  chiefly  among  troops  in  garrison.  For  several  years  subse. 
quently  it  existed  in  various  other  localities  in  France,  and  mostly 
among  soldiers.  At  the  same  time  in  other  countries  in  westi^ra 
and  central  Europe  the  disease  was  observed  in  epidemic  outbreaks, 
both  among  civU  and  military  populations.  In  1846  it  first  showed 
itself  in  Ireland,  chiefly  amon;^  the  inmates  of  workhouses  in  Belfast 
and  Dublin.  Numerous  outbreaks  occurred  also  about  the  same 
period  in  many  parls  of  the  United  States.  In  more  recent  times 
the  disease  has  repeatedly  appeared  bofli  in  Europe  and  America, 
but  it  has  seldom  prevailed  extensively  in  any  one  tract  of  country, 
the  outbreaks  affecting  for  the  most  part  limited  communities,  such 
as  garrisons  or  camps,  schools,  workhouses;  and  prisons. 

Little  is  known  regarding  the  causation  of  this  disease.  All  agea 
seem  liable  to  suffer,  and,  as  regards  sex,  males  are  affected  more 
commonly  than  females.  Occupation  and  condition  of  lifo  appear 
to  exercise  no  influence.  It  nas  been  observed  to  occur  most 
frequently  in  cold  seasons.  The  question  of  the  contagiousness 
of  cerobro-spinal  fever  renjains  still  unsettled,  but  the  weight  of 
authority  appears  to  be  in  favour  of  the  theory  of  the  communica- 
bility  of  the  disease.  It  cannot,  however,  be  regarded  as  contagious 
in  the  same  degree  as  some  other  specific  fevers,  such  as  typhus  fever, 
small-pox,  or  scarl.itina. 

The  following  are  the  more  prominent  symptoms.  After  a  few 
(Uys  of  general  discomfort  the  attack  comes  on  sharply  witli  rigore, 
intense  headache,  giddiness,  and  vomiting.  Neuralgic  pains  iu 
the  abdomen,  and  pain  with  spasmodic  contractions  in  the  muscles 
of  the  extremities,  occur  at  an  early  stage.  The  headache  continues 
with  great  severity,  and  restlessness  and  delirium  supervene,  accom- 
panied with  periods  of  somnolence.  The  pains  and  spasms  rapidly 
increase,  the  muscles  of  the- neck,  spine,  and  limbs  being  specially 
affected.  The  patient's  head  is  drawn  backwards  and  rigidly  fix6d, 
the  spine  arched,  and  the  anus  and  legs  powerfully  flexed,  the 
whole  condition  bearing  a  considerable  resemblance  to  tetanus. 
For  a  time  there"  is  greatly  increased  sensibility  of  the  skin,  pain 
being  excited  by  the  slightest  contact.  Tliere  is  more  or  less  fever 
present.  About  the  fourth  day  cf  the  disease  an  eruption  on  tho 
skin  both  of  the  face  and  body  frequently  appears,  in  the  form 
either  of  purpuric  spots  or  email  clear  vesicles.  Death  may  take 
place  in  from  a  few  hours  to  eight  or  ten  days.  Should  the  patient 
survive  the  immediato  shock  of  the  attack,  serious  Complications 
are  apt  to  appear  in  the  form  of  destroctivo  inflammation  of  the 
eyes  or  ears,  inflammation  with  effusion  into  certain  joints,  and 
paralysis  of  limbs  ;  or,  again,  recovery  may  take  place  after  a  pro- 
longed convalescence.  The  mortality  apjwars  to  vary  in  diflercnt 
epidemics,  iu  some  being  as  high  as  80-  per  cent.,  in  others  only 
about  20  per  cent.  Certain  fonns  of  the  disease  are  of  malignant 
character  from  the  first,  and  very  rajiidly  fatal. 

The  changes  found  after  death  in  cercbro-spinal  fever  are  intense 
inflammation  of  the  membrane  of  tho  brain  and  spinal  cord,  witli 
effusion  of  serum  or  pus  into  the  ventricular  and  arachnoid  spaces. 

The  treatment  is  similar  to  that  of  other  febrile  conditions,  but 
for  the  special  symptoms  of  pain,  spasm,  kc,  opium  seems  to  have 
been  foniid  of  eminent  service,  while  quinine  and  ergot  of  rye  are 
also  recommended. 

MENNONTTES  is  a  name  borne  by  certain  Christian 
communities  in  Europe  and  America,  denoting  their 
adherence  to  a  type  of  doctrine  of  which  Menno  Simons 


12 


M  E  N  — M  E  Ji 


was,  not  indeed  the  originator,  but  the  chief  exponent  at 
the  time  when  the  anti-paedo-baptism  of  the  congregations 
in  which  he  laboured  took  permanent  form  in  opposition 
to  ordinary  Protestantism  on  the  one  hand  and  to  the 
theocratic  ideas  of  the  ]MUnster  type  of  anabaptism  on  the 
other.  Tlie  original  home  of  the  views  afterwards  called 
Meiinonite  was  in  Ziirich.  where,  as  early  as  1525,  Grebei 
and  Manz  founded  a  community  having  for  its  most  dis- 
tinctive mark  baptism  upon  confession  of  faitli.  The  chief 
doctrines  of  these  Ziirich  Baptists  have  been  already  stated 
in  the  article  Baptists,  vol.  iii.  p.  353.  The  main  interest 
of  the  sect  lay  not  in  dogma  but  in  discipline.  Within 
the  coinmnnitics  evangelical  life  was  reduced  to  a  law  of 
separation  from  the  world,  and  this  separation — enforced 
by  a  stringent  use  of  excommunication  and  the  prohibition 
of  marriage  beyond  the  brotherhood— involved  not  only 
abstinence  from  worldly  vanities  but  refusal  of  civic  duties 
(the  state  being  held  to  be  un-Christian) — refusal  to  take 
an  oath  or  use  the  sword.  In  their  revolt  against  the  cor- 
ruptions of  the  medi;eval  church  the  Reformers  neither 
denied  the  continuity  of  the  church  as  an  organization  nor 
impugned  the  Christian  character  of  the  state.  The  new 
sect  did  both  ;  and  their  position  thus  appeared  so  radically 
subversive  of  the  foundations  of  society  that  it  is  not  sur- 
prising, under  the  imperfect  views  of  toleration  then  current, 
that  they  became  the  objects  of  bitter  persecution  from 
Protestants  as  well  as  from  Catholics.  But  the  Grebelians 
had  no  desire,  like  the  fanatics  of  Miinster,  to  found  a  new 
theocracy  in  opposition  to  the  anti-Christian  state.  They 
sought  only  to  withdraw  from  what  their  conscience  con- 
f'emned,  content  to  live  as  strangers  upon  earth,  and  devot- 
ing all  their  energy  to  preserve  the  purity  of  their  own 
communities.  The  mediaeval  conception  of  separation  from 
the  world  as  the  true  path  of  Christian  perfection  had 
leavened  all  middle-cla.ss  society  in  Europe,  and  prepared 
many  to  accept  separatist  views  of  the  church  as  soon  as 
they  were  reached  by  the  impulse  of  revolt  against  Roman 
Catholicism ;  the  pursuit  of  holiness  in  a  society  protected 
by  a  strict  discipline  is  an  idea  which  experience  has  .shown 
to  have  a  great  attraction  for  one  class  of  earnest  minds ; 
hence,  in  spite  of  persecutions  incomparably  fiercer  than 
any  of  the  larger  Protestant  bodies  ever  underwent,  the 
new  doctrine  and  praxis  rapidly  spread  from  Switzerland 
to  Germany,  Holland,  and  even  to  France.  Each  com- 
munity was  quite  independent,  united  to  the  rest  only  by  a 
bond  of  love.  Tltere  was  no  sort  of  hierarchy,  but  only 
"  exhorters "  chosen  by  the  congregation,  of  whom  the 
most  prominent  were  also  "elders"  entrusted  v/ith  the 
administration  of  the  sacraments — an  organization  so  easily 
kept  alive  or  reproduced  that  the  movement  could  hardly 
be  checked  by  anj'  persecution  short  of  the  total  annihila- 
tion Vi'hich  at  length  was  actually  the  fate  of  many  of  the 
Swiss  communities.  The  remnants  of  the  Swiss  Mennonites 
broke  in  1620  into  two  parties,  the  stricter  of  which,  the 
Ammanites  or  Upland  ilennonites,  were  distinguished  from 
the  Lowland  Jlennonitcs  by  holding  that  e.tcommunication 
of  one  party  dissolved  marriage,  and  by  their  rejection  of 
buttons  and  the  use  of  the  razor.  Their  persecution  lasted 
till  1710;  a  few  congregations  still  remain  and  keep 
themselves  quite  distinct  from  Baptist  bodies  of  more 
modern  origin.  In  Germany  the  Mennonites  arc  some- 
what more  numerous ;  more  important  are  the  German 
Mennonite  colonies  in  southern  Russia,  brought  thither  ia 
1783  by  the  empress  Catherine,  which  in  turn  have  recently 
sent  many  emigrants  to  America.  America  indeed,  and 
especially  Ponn-sylvania,  .early  became  a  refuge  for  the 
Mennonites  of  Switzerland,  the  Palatinate,  and  Holland, 
and  is  now  the  chief  home  of  the  body  (175,000  in  Uio 
United  States  and  25,000  in  Canada).  Tlio  oldest  con- 
gregation b  that  of  Cermantown  (since  1G83);  the  most 


numerous  of  several  divisions  are  the  Old  Mennonites,  cor- 
responding to  the  less  strict  of  the  Swiss  sections. 

All  these  communities  in  Europe  and  America  are  dis- 
tinguished by  an  antique  simplicity  combined  with  antique 
prejudices,  by  indificrenco  to  the  interests  of  the  greater 
world,  while  at  the  same  time  their  industry  and  self-con- 
centration have  made  them  generally  well-to-do.  Their 
religious  t}Tie  has  varied  very  little  in  the  course  of 
centuries,  as  indeed  is  not  surprising,  their  theology 
being  ascetic  rather  than  dogmatic  or  speculative.  The 
Mennonites  of  Holland,  on  the  other  hand,  have  passed 
through  an  interesting  and  progressive  history. 

It  was  in  Holland  and  the  adjoining  parts 'of  Low  Germany  that 
the  personal  inDuence  of  Mcnuo  Simons  (1492-1.159)  was  mainlj 
felt.  He  w.Ts  originally  a  priest,  and  was  pastor  at  his  native  place 
"Witmarsum  in  Frie-slaud  from  1531  to  1536,  v/htn  convictions  long 
ripening  in  his  mind  compelled  him  to  resigii  his  cure.  At  this 
time  the  anti-pxdo- baptist  societies  in  the  Low  Countries  were  much 
agitated.  The  vie^^is  which  had  just  before  received  their  poUtical 
deathblow  at  Miinster  (seo  Anab.1ptists)  were  not  extiuct,  and 
even  those  who  did  not  share  them  were  by  no  means  at  one. 
Jlenno  attached  himself  to  the  Obbenites,  who  held  that  on  earth 
true  G'hri.stiaus  had  no  prospect  bat  to  suffer  pereecution,  refused  to 
use  the  sword,  and  looked  for  no  millennium  on  earth.  Menno 
became  cue  of  their  elders,  and  by  his  wanderings  among  the 
scattered  and  oppressed  communities,  and  especially  hy  the  natural 
elofjuenco  and  religious  power  of  his  numerous  wiitings,  did  much 
to  sustain  the  faith  of  his  associates,  to  confirm  the  type  of  their 
religious  life,  and  to  prevent  startling  aberrations  in  doctrine  or 
discijdine.  He  was  not  an  original  thinker;  but  the  love  whicii 
all  felt  for  the  man,  and  which  was  kept  alive  fo^  generations  by 
his  writings,  gave  him  the  place  which  the  name  of  Mennonites 
expresses. 

It  may  bo  ascribed  to  the  influence  of  Menno's  wiitings  that  the 
Dutch  Mennonites,  though  for  a  time  (since  1554)  they  broke  into 
fractious  on  questions  of  discipline,  and  especially  on  the  effect  of 
excommunication  upon  marriage,  never  fell  so  far  apart  as  regards 
the  type  of  their  i-eligious  life  as  to  preclude  the  possibility  of  re- 
union. The  Waterlandcrs  in  North  Holland,  who  held  the  least 
strict  doctrine  of  excommunication,  soon  moved  farther  in  the 
direction  of  hberality,  and  exchanged  the  name  Meunonites  for  that 
of  Doopsgezindeu  (Baptist  persuasioii).  In  3579  they  refused  to 
contlcmn  any  one  for  opinions,  even  on  the  incarnation,  which  the 
word  of  Scripture  did  not  pronounce  necessary  to  salvation.  They 
aided  William  the  Silent  with  money,  and  from  1  'i81  to  1618  even 
accepted  civil  office.  Meantime  the  stricter  party  had  undergone 
various  divisions,  which,  however,  ia  1627-32  were  reunited  on 
the  basis  of  confessions' essentially  embodying  Menno's  teachings. 
They  too  had  learned  moderation,  at  le.'-st  in  their  views  of  excom- 
munication, and  their  antithesis  to  the  state  was  softened  since 
the  cessation  of  persecution  iu  15S1,  but  especially  since  in  1672 
they  wore  recogni^ied  as  citizens.  On  the  other  hand,  the  adofttion 
of  a  confession  had  deepened  the  separation  between  them  and  the 
liberal  Doopsgezinden ;  but  doctrine  was  never  the  fundairieutsl 
principle  of  tho  Mennonite  communities,  confessionalism  took  no 
firm  root,  and  the  two  sections  gradually  approached,  and  through 
a  series  of  partial  fusions  became  at  length  tinally  united  when  the 
Amsterdam  congregations  came  together  iu  1801.  The  pei-^uasion 
declined  much  in  nunibers  in  tho  18th  century;  since  then  it  has 
increased,  and  has  now  127  congregations  with  nearly  50,000 
members.  Tho  objection  to  hold  civil  olFice  disappeared  in  1795; 
that  to  carry  arms  in  the  war  of  freedom  against  Napoleon.  Baptism 
on  profession  of  faith  and  tho  refusal  of  the  oath,  tolerance  in 
matters  of  doctrine  without  religious  indilferenco,  are  tho  chief 
marks  of  the  body,  which  in  poiut  of  theological  culture  nud 
general  enlightenment,  philanthropic  zeal  and  social  importance, 
has  long  stood  very  high. 

Atilhorillcs.—The  best  life  of  Memo  s  :r  :  i  ,  C;  i:ii''r"s,  isa7.  De  Hoop 
Scliclfor'3  article  In  nciios.l'lltt,  H.  f: ,     ■  '        ilv  uno  point  of  consc- 

qiion:.^  i.T  hi3  account  seems  to  call  fn    i  "1  i?  book  ;ic.>lnst  John 

of  Leyilcn.  s-ilil  to  luivo  been  publislic^l  t-  ■  'i  -  j  uncd  rhc  <)bbenllc!».  1« 
almouc  ccrtuinly  spurious^  See  Scpp.  o  ,,i.<  .-.j--;  ..y.:  .\\np-^riit'jfn.  1.  (1S7".'> 
p.  128  sq.  Tlio  conipluicst  cdlrloa  of  Mcnnoa  »uilis  b  lliat  In  folio,  ICSO.  Man.v 
of  them  aio  known  only  In  bad  Dutch  vcislona;  Mcnno  lihnscif  wrote  In  the 
"Oostcrsch"  or  East  Sea  Dialect  of  Low  German.  For  the  literature  on  the 
Mennonites  In  gcneial,  see  Dj  Hoop  Scbeffer,  on  whom  tho  forcpoln^  sketch  \* 
mainly  UcpcndcnL 

MENSHIKOFE,  Alexander  D\NTL0vicn  (1672-1729), 
born  at  Moscow  on  the  17th  of  November  (o.s.)  1672,  was 
tho  son  of  a  poor  man,  who  employed  him  to  sell  cakes 
about  the  streets  of  that  city.  In  this  humble  occupation 
he  attracted  tho  attention  of  Lefort,  one  of  Peter  the  Great's 
most  active  co-operators,  who  was  pleased  with  his  spright- 
liness,  and  took  him  into  his  service.    Peter,  soon  afterwards 


M  E  N  — M  E  N 


13 


seeing  tao  youtu  at  JLefort'B,  was  also  delighted  with  him, 
and  took  him  to  be  his  page.  Menshikoff  soon  became 
indispensable  to  the  czar,  assisting  him  in  his  workshop, 
and  displaying  signal  bravery  in  the  company  of  his  master 
at  the  siege  of  Azofi  He  formed  one  of  the  suite  of  Peter 
durin"  his  travels,  aud  worked  with  him  at  Saardam  and 
Deptforo  Throughout  his  wars  with  the  Swedes,  Men- 
shikoS  was  the  companion  of  the  czar,  and  greatly  distin- 
guished himself  For  his  gallantry  at  the  battle  of  the 
Neva,  on  the  7th  of  May  (o.s.)  1703,  he  received  the  order 
of  St  Andrew.  In  1 704  he  was  made  general,  and  at  the 
request  of  the  czar  created  a  prince  of  the  Holy  Koman 
Empire.  His  house  on  the  Vasilii-Ostroff  was  magnificent ; 
there  ambassadors  were  received,  and  banquets  were  given 
gorgeous  with  gold  and  silver  plate.  Unfortunately  there 
is  a  dark  side  to  the  picture,  and  the  favourite  was  guilty 
of  extortion  to  such  an  extent  as  to  bring  him  under  his 
master's  censure.  On  the  death  of  Peter  the  position  of 
Menshikoff  became  very  perilous  ;  his  successes  had  raised 
about  him  a  host  of.  enemies  eager  for  his  downfall  The 
Goiitzins,  Dolgoroukis,  and  all  those  who  formed  what  may 
be  called  the  Old  Russian  party,  wished  to  proclaim  the 
son  of  Alexis  emperor.  Those,  however,  whose  aggrandize- 
ment was  bound  up  with  Peter's  reforms — Menshikoff, 
Apraksin,  Bontourlin,  Goloffkin,  and  others — were  in  favour 
of  giving  the  cro\(Ti  to  Peter's  widow,  who  accordingly 
ascended  the  throne  as  Catherine  L  During  her  reign  the 
influence  of  Menshikoff  was  unbounded,  and  he  virtually 
governed  the  country;  but  the  empress  died  in  1727, 
after  a  reign  of  two  years.  She  had  made  a  will,  no 
doubt  at  the  instigation  of  the  favourite,  to  the  effect 
that  Peter,  her  grandson,  was  to  be  czar  under  the  guardian- 
ship of  Menshikoff,  whose  daughter  Mary  was  to  be  married 
to  the  youthful  sovereign.  Under  pretence  of  taking  care 
of  the  young  czar,  Menshikoff  caused  him  to  be  removed 
to  his  house  and  surrounded  him  with  his  creatures.  He 
was  now  at  the  height  of  his  power ;  foreign  ambassadors 
remarked  that  even  the  great  Peter  himself  was  never 
feared  so  much.  The  young  czar,  however,  showed  no 
affection  for  Mary  Menshikoff,  and  the  girl  was  equally 
apathetic  towards  her  betrothed,  being  in,  love  with  a 
member  of  the  family  of  Sapieha  at  the  time  her  father 
had  forced  her  into  the  engagement.  The  Dolgoroukis 
used  the  aversion  of  the  j^oung  prince  to  his  Jiancee  as  a 


means  of  creating  dislike  to  the  father.  A  chain  of  cvcut.'l 
was  gradually  leading  to  the  downfall  of  the  favourite) 
He  was  soon  refused  admittance  to  the  summer  jialace, 
whither  the  young  czar  had  retired.  Kext  he  was  arrested, 
and  so  overpowered  was  he  at  his  disgrace  that  he 
had  an  apoplectic  stroke.  In  vain  did  he  addi-css  Icttei-s 
both /to  the  empetor  and  his  sister.  Shortly  after,  by 
order  of  the  czar,  the  fallen  magnate  de^xirtcd  from 
St  Petersburg,  but  more  like  a  nobleman  retiring  to  his 
estate  than  a  culprit  going  into  e.xile.  The  pcoplo  regarded 
him  with  dislike,  and  most  of  them  rejoiced  over  hU  fall. 
On  his  way  a  courier  arrived  with  orders  to  take  the 
czar's  ring  of  betrothal  from  his  daughter  Mary  and  "ivo 
her  back  her  own,  which  had  been  worn  l)y  Peter  H. 
Menshikoff  was  not  permitted  to  jiass  through  Moscow, 
but  was  conducted  to  Oranienburg,  in  the  government  of 
Eiazan,  and  there  placed  under  strict  surveillance.  Soon 
afterwards  the  whole  family  was  banished  to  Siberia,  and 
arrived  at  Berezoff  to^vards  the  end  of  1 727.  Moushikoff's 
wife  died  on  the  journey,  and  was  buried  neai  Kazan.  On 
the  arrival  of  the  prisoners  they  were  lodged  in  a  wooden 
house,  consisting  of  foiu-  rooms.  But  Menshikoff  did  not 
long  endure  the  horroi-s  of  exile  in  this  inclemout  region. 
According  to  Mannstein,  he  died  (Xovember  13,  o.s., 
1729)  of  an  apoplectic  stroke,  because  there  was  no  one 
at  Berezoff,  as  he  himself  remarked,  who  understood  how 
to  open  a  vein.  The  young  cz.ir  ordered  the  release  from 
exile  of  the  two  remaining  children  of  Menshikoff, — his 
daughter  Mary  had  died  at  Berezoff  in  the  same  year 
as  her  father, — ^and  restored  some  of  their  property  to 
them. 

MENSHIKOFF,  Alexa>t)er  Sergeievich  ( 1 787-1 869), 
great-grandson  of  Peter's  favourite,  bom  in  1787,  entered 
the  Russian  service  as  attache  to  the  embassy  at  Vienna.  He 
accompanied  the  emperor  Alexander  throughout  his  cam- 
paigns against  Napoleon,  and  attained  the  rank  of  general, 
but  retired  from  active  service  in  1823.  He  then  devoted 
himself  to  naval  matters,  and  put  tire  Russian  marine, 
which  had  fallen  into  decay  during  the  reign  of  Alexander, 
on  an  efficient  footing.  On  the  outbreak  of  the  Crimean 
War  he  was  appointed  commander-in-chief,  and  suffered  a 
severe  defeat  at  the  Alma.  On  the  death  of  the  emperot 
Nicholas  in  1855  he  was  recalled,  ostensibly  on  account 
of  failing  health.     He  died  in  1869. 


MENSUKATION 


"VrENSURATION,  or  the  art  of  measuring,  involves 
ijj.  the  construction  of  measures,  the  methods  of  using 
them,  and  the  investigation  of  rules  by  which  magnitudes 
which  it  may  be  difficult  or  impossible  to  measure  directly 
are  calculated  from  the  ascertained  value  of  some  associated 
magnitude.  It  is  usiial,  however,  to  employ  the  term 
mensuration  in  the  last  of  these  senses;  and  we  may 
therefore  define  it  to  be  that  department  of  mathematical 
science  by  which  the  various  dimensions  of  bodies  are 
calculated  from  the  simplest  possible  measurements. 

The  determination  of  the  lengths  and  directions  of 
straight  lines,  including  what  are  familiarly  knowTv.as 
problems  in  heights  and  distances,  generally  depends  on 
the  solution  of  triangles,  and  will  be  discussed  in  the 
articles  Tkigonometey  and  Scteveying.  The  remaining 
iwrtiona  of  the  subject  are  the  determinations  of  the 
lengths  of  curves,  the  areas  of  plane  or  other  figures,  and 
the  volumes  and  surfaces  of  solids ;  and  it  is  of  mensura- 
^on  as  thus  restricted  that  the  present  article  will  discuss 
some  of  the  more  important  problems. 

§  1.  Uniti  of  Length,  Area,  and  Volume. — In  measuring 
any  magnitude  we  select  some  standard  or  "  nni'  "  'o  -nea- 


sure  by.  Thus  in  measuring  length  we  take  for  unit  an 
inch,  a  foot,  or  a  yard.  From  the  unit  of  length  we  derive 
the  imits  of  area  and  volume.  Thus  we  define  the  unit  of 
area  to  be  the  area  of  the  square  described  upon  the  unit 
of  length,  and  the  unit  of  volume  to  be  the  volume  of  the 
cube  whose  edge  is  the  unit  of  length  or  whose  side  is  the 
unit  of  area.  For  example,  if  an  inch  be  taken  as  the  unit 
of  length,  the  square  whose  side  is  1  inch  is  the  unit  of 
area,  and  the  cube  whose  edge  is  1  inch  is  the  unit  of 
volume.  The  length  of  a  line,  the  area  of  a  surface,  and 
the  volume  of  a  solid  are  then  expressed  by  the  numbers, 
whole  or  fractional,  of  units  of  length,  area,  and  volume 
which  they  respectively  contain.  Hence,  if  I  denote  the 
linear  unit,  the  length  of  a  line  which  contains  a  units  is  al, 
or  simply  a  since  /  is  unity ;  similarly  the  area  of  a  surface 
which  contains  b  units  of  area  is  bm,  or  simply  b,  where 
m  is  the  unit  of  area. 

§  2.  Commensurable  and  Incommensurable  Magnitudes. — 
When  two  magnitudes  have  a  common  measure,  that  is, 
when  another  magnitude  can  be  found  which  is  contained 
in  each  an  exact  number  of  times,  they  are  said  to  be 
"  cf>'".mensurable."     Thus  «  'Jne  4 J  ai'd  another  3J  inches 


14 


MENSURATION 


long  are  commensurable ;  for,  if  J  inch  be  taken  as  unit  of 
length,  tlie  former  contains  the  unit  nine  times  and  the 
Utter  seven  times.  If  no  common  measure  can  be  found, 
jhe  two  magnitudes  are  said  to  be  "incommensurable." 
For  instance,  1  and  ■Ji  have  no  common  measure ;  for 
v/2  =  l'4142  ...  an  interminable  decimal,  and  hence  no 
unit,  however  small,  can  be  found  which  will  be  contained 
in  each  an  exact  number  of  times.  If,  however,  we  take 
^/2  =  l•4,  the  error  \vill  be  less  than  jV;  '^  s/S- 1-414, 
the  error  will  be  less  than  xviyist  ^'^-  Hence,  by  taking  a 
sufficient  number  of  figures,  we  can  find  a  fraction  which 
will  differ  from  \/2  by  less  than  any  assignable  quantity, 
and  therefore  we  can  always  find  two  commensurable 
magnitudes  that  will  represent  two  incommensurable  ones 
to  any  degree  of  accuracy  we  please.  In  what  follows  we 
need  therefore  only  consider  commensurable  lines. 

§  3.  Area  of  a  Bectangle. — Let  the  side  AB  (fig.  1)  con- 
tain a  units  and  the  side  BC  b  units  of  length.  If  we 
divide  AB  into  a  equal  parts,   j^  ^ 

each  equal  to  the  unit  of  length, 
and  similarly  BC  into  6  equal 
parts,  and  if  through  the  points 
of  'division  we  draw  lines 
parallel  to  the  sides  of  the 
rectangle,  these  lines  will  di- 
vide the  rectangle  into  a  series 
of  rectangles,  each  of  which  is 
the  unit  of  area,  since  each  is 
a  square  whose  sides  are  of 
unit  length.  As  we  have  a  rows  of  these  rectangles,  and 
h  in  each  row,  the  whole  rnunber  of  rectangles  wUl  be  ab. 
Therefore 

area  of  ABCD— o6  onits  of  area 
—aft. 


'•ig.  1. 


SEono:T 


PART  I.— PLANE  FIGIIRES. 
-Plane  Fioitres  contained  bt  Steaioht  Lines. 


A.  The  Rectangle. 
§  i.  Let  ABCD  (fig.  2)  be  a  rectangle, 
BC-DA  =  i,  AC-c,  and  the  angle  A 
BAG  —  a  ;  it  is  required  to  find  its  area. 
Since  a  rectangle  is  completely  de- 
termined when  two  independent  data, 
one  of  \7liich  at  least  is  a  length,  are 
given  connecting  its  parts,  we  can  de- 
termine its  area  in  the  following  cases. 

(o)  IVhe/i  its  length  a  and  its  breadth 
b  are  given. — It  has  already  been  proved 
(§  8)  that  Fig-  2- 

area  of  ABCD- o5; 
or  the  area  of  a  rectangle  is  equal  to  its  length  multiplied  by  its 
"breadth.  ■ 

Example. — lift  a  — 12  feet  6  inches  and  J  — 9  inches,  then 
area  of  ABCD-12-5x  -rS-D'STS  square  feet 
If  we  make  use  of  logarithms  in  the  above,  calculation  we  have 
log  area  —  logo  +  logfi . 
loga-logl2-5   -1-0969100 
log 6 -log     -75-1-8750613 
therefore  logarea-    -9719713; 

hence  area.— 9-375. 

{(3)   When  a  side  a  and  the  diagonal  a  an  givm. — By  Eodid 

i.  47  wo  have  

f-e'-a',  or  t-Vc'-o', 
therefore  area  of  ABCD  -  a!i  -  as/er  -  a' ; 

or  logarca-loga  +  41og((;  +  a)-l-Jlog(e-(«). 

Example.— Let  a-238  and  c-456,  then 

loga-  log238-2-3765770 
41og(i; -Ha) -}log694- 1-4206797 
41og(g-a)-ilog218- 1-1 692282 

therefore  log  area  -4  -9664849  ; 

hence  '  area -^2573 -I . 


iy)  When  a  tide  a  and  a  iU  inelinaiion  to  the  diagonal  are  ffUMW 
-Since  ' 


—  —  tan  a 


3  tana 


and  therefore  area  of  ABCD  -ab-  o'.tan  r. ; 

or  logarea-21oga-HLtana- 10. 

Example.— T^\,  o-36  and  a-32°  26'  15",  then 
21oga-21og36-   3-1126050 
Ltana-Ltan32°  26'  15"-   9-8028622 
therefore  log  area- 12-n54672- 10-2-8154672; 

hence  area -823 -127. 


(5)   WTicn  the  diagonal  c 
sides  are  given. — We  have 


nd  a  its  inrlinnHon  to  either  of  the 


o  — ccosa,  and  ft  — esinc, 
therefore  area  of  ABCD-aJ-c'sinaoo8o-ic'ain2o: 
or  2area  — c-Biu2o, 

and  hence  log2area-21ogi;-i-Lsiu2a-10. 

§  6.  A  square  being  a  rectangle  whose  ^des  are  equal,  we  can  at 
once  determine  its  area.  When  one  datum,  which  must  be  a 
length,  is  given  the  square  is  completely  determined,  and  bene* 
n  e  have  only  two  caaes  to  consider. 

(a)   When  tlie  side  is  given.— Ftom  §  4,  a,  we  have  at  once 

.  »  area  of  square  — aft- a  X  a  — a*. 

(B)   When  the  diagonal  c  is  given.— fvoxn  §  4,  p.  we  have 
a*  -t-  a'  —  c^,  or  a'  —  Jc*  ; 
hence  area  of  aquare- n'  — Jc',  or  2area  — c*; 

and  therefore  log  2  area -2  log  e. 

B.  Might-angled  Triaugles. 
§  6.  The  diagonal  of  every  rectangle  divides  it  into  two  eqniva* 
lent  right-angled  triangles  (Eucl.  i.  34),  and  hence  the  area  of  the 
right-angled  triangle  ABC  (fig.  2)  is  equal  to  half  the  area  of  th« 
corresponding  rectangle  ABCD. 


r  Ge^urally. 

e  six  elements  to  be  CO!isider«d, 


C.    Triangh 

%  7.  In  every  triangle  there  a 
namely,  the  three  sides  and  the 
three  angles.  If  any  three  of 
these  six  be  given,  provided  one 
is  a  length,  iho  triangle  is  com- 
pletely determined,  and  hence 
Its  area  can  be  found. 

§  8.  Length  of  Perpcndictilars 
of  a  Triangle.— In  the  triangle 
ABC  (fig.  3)  let  BC-er,  CA-6, 
AB  =  c,  AD  the  perpendicular 
from  A  on  BC-A,  BD-a;, 
and  CD-;;. 

*'"ce  BDA  and  CDA  are  right  angles,  ,wo  have 
c'  — a;'-H/i',  and  ft'-j('-h7i', 
and  therefore 

ft3  _  (J  -  3/2  -  a:»  -  (y -l- a-Xy  -  s)  -  0(1/ -  r) ; 

whence  y--x— 

But  y  + 1  — a,  and,  by  solving  these  equations,  we  obtain 
ft'-Hn'-c» 


Fig.  3. 


Again 


,,.ft,.;^-ft._(^i±^')' 


(2aft)'-(i.'-Ha'-c')' 


(g-t-ft-t-c)(ft-l-i:-a)(<;-l-g-ft)(o-Hft-c) 
4a= 

henc4-        .h~  —  \/(a-Vh  +  c)(i-i-c-a)(c  +  a-bta-k^h-r). 

2a 
Now  let    a  +  t-t-e-is,  then  b  +  c-a-2(,s- a)  ,  e  +  a-b  —  iit-b), 
and  n  +  J-c-2(s-c)- 

Therefore,  on  substituting  and  reducing,  we  obtain 


h--\fs{s-a){s-b){s-e). 

Similarly  the  parpendiculars  from  B  and  Qjjn  fho  opposite  side* 
arc  respectively 


-^V«(s-a)(»-ft)(«-<i),  and  -^•v'»(«-;ol(»-ftl(«-.el. 

§  0.  We  now  proceed  to  invcsligato'forulnlf^  lor  tno  antj'of  a 
triangh)  in  tlfe  following  Snportant  cases.  ■ 

'a)    "•''■•™    the   base,  »   and  the  altitude  h  life  Jieerf.— MuTl*   • 


MENSURATION 


15 


triaogls  is  eqnel  to  half  a  rectangle  of  the  same  base  and  altitdde, 
we  have  at  once 

aieaABC  —  ian. 

Example. — IJet  o— 40  chains  and  A=14'52  chains,  then 

area  — ix40xl4'62  =  290'4  scjuare  chains. 
(3)  Whm  two  tides  a  and  c  and  the  included  angle  B  or«  giv&a,— 
Trom  fig.  S  — — sinB,  and  therefore  A=C8inB  ; 
hence  area— JitA—Jac sin  B  ; 

or  log2area=loga  +  logi;  +  L9inB-10. 

Example. — Let  a— 40,  c=30,  and  B-^SO",  then 
area = Jacsin  B  =  J  x  40  x  30  x  i  =  300. 
(7)  JFAct  the  three  sides  a,  b,  c  are  given. — From  §  8 

A-|  V«(»-o)(«-6)Ca-c), 
and  therefore 

area-ioA-Jax— V«(s-a)(»-i)(s-c)-Vs(«-a)(s-6)(»-(;) ; 
or         logarea.=-J{Iog«  +  Iog(s-ii)  +  log(s-i)  +  log(«-(!)}. 
Since  2j— a+J+c,  we  have 

area  of  triangle  -  }V2(a=6»  + J^c^  +  c'a")  -  ((»*+6«+'<:*) . 
Examvlel. — Leta-13,  i-14,  aiidc-lS,  then 

«-i(13  +  14  +  lB)-21,  »-a-21-13  =  8, 
(-6-21-14-7,  ands-c-21-15->6; 
therefors  area = V2fx8x7x6-  84. 

JSoompfa  2.— Let  0-255,  6-238,  andc-221,  then 

logs-log357-     2-5526682 

log(s-a)-logl02-    2-0086002 

log{j-6)-logll9=     2-0755470 

log(s-c)-logl36-     2-1335389 

therefore  log  area  -  i(8  '7703543) = -l  -3851 771 ; 

hence  area  — 24276. 

(t)  TfTien  any  two  angles  6  mid  C  and  the  adjaeent  tide  a  are 
given. — Since 

c     sinC  asinC 

a     sinA  '  sinA  ' 

and  therefore  (by  ff) 

area  -  iocsin  B  -  "'"".^""P  ,   where  A  -  ISO"  -  (6  +  0) , 

or         log2area=21ogo  +  L8inB  +  LRinC  +  LcosecA-3D. 
Since  all  the  angles  of  a  triangle  are  given   when  any   two  are 
given,  we  can  find  the  area  of  a  triangle  when  any  two  angles  and 
any  one  side  are  given.    Thus,  when  A,  B,  and  c  are  given,  wo  know 
C  also,  and  the  problem  reduces  to  a  case  of  the  preceding. 

(c)    When  the  three  medians  a,  0,  y  are  given. — If  a,  6,  c  be  the 
three  sides  of  a  triangle,  and  o,  ft  7  the  three  medians,  i.e.,  the 
lines  drawn  from  the  angles  to  the  middle  points  of  the  opposite 
sides,  then  by  veil-known  geometrical  propositions  we  have 
4(a'"  + 18=  +  7^)  =  3{a' +  63  +  c2) , 
16(o=/3»  -,  3V  +  Vo"-)  -  9(a26=  +  6V  +  c=a2) , 
and  16(o*+J3*-+7«)-9(rt«  +  6<  +  <r«). 

Now  (§  9,  7)  _ 

area  of  triangle       -}V2((i='d"  +  6'c=  +  i;W 
therefore 


-ja'  +  h'  +  c'), 

■  J  V-2(a=e' +  ^V -t- yo')  -  (o«  + /3«  +  V) . 


D.  Parallelograrns. 

§  10.  The  opposite  sides  and  angles  of  a  parallelogram  being 
equal,  three  independent 
data,  one  of  which  at  least 
is  a  length,  are  necessary  and 
sofiicient  to  determine  it 
comjiletely.  . 

In  the  parallelogram  ABCD 
(fig.    4)     let    BC  =  DA-a, 
AB-CD-6,  AC-c,AE  =  A,  B 
the      angle     ABC -a     and  -.      . 

AOp-ft  ^'S-  ^• 

Since  the  diagonal  AC  divides  the  paral'o'ogram  into  two  eqni- 
valent  triangles,  we  obtain 

(o)  area  of  ABCD  =  2  area  of  triangle  ABC 

-2x4axA(§9,  a)-oA; 

{$)  areaof  ABCD  =  2areaAB0  =  2xia6sino{§9,  j8)-o6sinoi 
or  logarea=loga  +  log6+Lsino-10  ; 

(7)  area  of  ABCD-2  area  ABC-2(AB0"+CB0) 

•■2{iB0.A0sinA0B  +  JBO.COsinCOB} -2{iBO.AC3in/3} 
— JBD.  AC  sin  8 — Joisin  IS , 
ot  log2Brea-logc  +  logd  +  LBin/3-10. 


§  11.  If  the  parallelogram  be  equiangtUar  (a  rectangle),  c<=d, 
and  area  -J«»8inj8.  If  it  be  equilateral  (a  rhombus),  p-90°,  and 
area  —  Jcrf.  If  it  bo  both  eguiatigular  and  eguilatcral  (a  square), 
c-d  and  fl-90°,  and  aiea  -  Jc"  as  before  (§  6,  0). 

E.   Trapesiunis. 
§  12.  To  determine  a  trapezium  completely  four  data  ai'e  neces- 
sary and  sufficient. 
In  the  trapezium  ABCD  (fig.  B)letBC=a,CD-J,i)A-=(;,AB-(<, 


Fig.  6. 
and  AE  perpendicular  to  BC  =  A,  and  draw  AF  parallel  to  CD, 
then 

(o)  area  ABCD  =  area  ABC  +  area  ADO 

'^\ah  +  \ch 
—  J(a  +  c)A; 
or  the  area  is  e^ual  to  half  the  sum  of  the  pai-allel  sides  multiplied 
by  the  perpendicular  between  them. 

Again,  area  of  ABF - ^BFx  AE  (§  9.  a)-^{a-c)h, 
also  area  of  ABr= V«(s- AB)(«-  BF)(s-FA), 

where  2«  =  AB-(-BF  +  FA ; 

hence  ft-^^V«(s  -  AB)(s  -  BF)(s  -  FA),  therefore 

iff)     area  of  ABCD  -  4(a + o)k='^^^\/ s(3  -  AB)(»  -  BF)(5  -  FA) 

■■  J^^'V(-a+6+i!+(i3(o.+  6-(!-d)(a+6-c+d)(a-J-(!+d) , 
since  AB-rf,  BF-(t-c,  and  FA-CD-6. 

Thus  we  can  find  the  area  of  a  ti-apezium  in  terms  of  its  sides. 
§  18.  If  c  — 0,  ABCD  becomes  a  triangle,  and  its  area 
-jV(-o-l-6-l-rf)(a  +  6-d)(a  +  6  +  d)(o-i  +  d). 
Again,  if  c-os,   then  also  b=d,  and  ABCD  becomes  a  parallelo- 
gram, and  its  area  takes  the  indeterminate  form—,  as  it  should  do, 
since  four  sides  do  not  completely  determine  a  parallelogram. 

F.   Quadrilaterals  Generally. 

§  14.  A  quadrilateral  is  completely  determined  when  five  inde- 
pendent data  arc  given.     "We  consider  the  following  cases. 

(a)   When  any  diagonal  and  the  perpendiculars  on  it  from,  the 
opposite  vertices  are  given. 

The  quadrilateral  ABCD  (fig.  6)  =ABD  +  BCD 

-iBD.AK  +  JBD.CF 
-JBD(AE  +  CF)j 
or  the  area  is  equal  to  half  the  product  of  the  diagonal  and  the 
sum  of  the  perpendiculars.  . 

If    the   diagonal   BD   fall  B^ 
without' the  ficrure,  as  in  tho 
concave  quadrilateral  ABCD 
(fig.  7),  then  it  is  clear  that 
area  ABCD = JBD(AE  -  CF). 

(ff)  When  the  diagonals  and 
tlieir  included  angle  ate 
given. — In  the  quadrilateral 
ABCD  (fig.  8,  p.  16)  let  BD-h,  AC-=*,  and  angle  DEA- 

ABCD -ABD+ BCD 

=  iBD.AEsina  +  iBD.CEsino(§  10.  7) 
-P(AE-l-CE)sina 
—  iA^sina  ;- 
or  the  area  is  equal  to  the  product  of  the  diagonals  and  tiie  sine  ot 
their  contained  angle.  - 

Tho  same  result  holds  - 

when  one  of  the  dia- 
gonals falls  without  tho 
quadrilateral,  as  in  fig. 
7,  as  the  reader  can  easily 
verify. 

(7)  JFhen  the  four 
sides  and  the  angle  be- 
tween    the  diagonals 

given. — If   a,  b,  e,  d  be  ,ij„  - 

th?  sides  and  a  the  angle 
between  the  diagonals  it  can  easily  be  shown  that 

^a  of  quadxilatoral-J(a'- V'-t-c'-'P^tauo. 


Fig.  6. 


,  then 


16 


MENSURATION 


(>)  fFlien  Iht  four  tida  art  given  and  Die  oppotiU  angla  are 
tuml*nuniary.—la  fig.  8  let  AB-o  BC-4,  CD-c,  DA-d, 
AC -A,     angle     ABC-o,     angle  j^^ 

GDA-i5,    and     let    o  +  fl-180*. 
then 
areaof  ABCD  -  ABC  +  ADC 

—  iabaina  +  l^cdemp. 
But 

lin^- Bin  (180*- a)  — sis  a, 
therefore 

areaof  ABCD- i(ai  +  c<j)  sin  a.  0 

This    gives    us    the   area  of   the  ^'8-  8. 

<luadriUteraI  in  terms  of  the  four  sides  and  one  angle. 
Again  we  have 
a'  +  lr-2alcoaa~h'-c'  +  d'-2cdcoa0-c'  +  £'  +  2cdci>sa 

a'  +  lfi-e'-d'         ,, 

- ,  and  hence 


1  +cosa 


',  and 


therefore  ^w-«—      „,   , 

2{ab  +  cd) 

Ja  +  b  +  c-d){a  +  b-e  +  d) 
2(a6  +  a!) 
1     cos       i'  +  d  +  a-b){e  +  d-a  +  b) 
""  2(a6  +  oi) 

From  this  we  ohtain 

ein'a-  (1  +  cosaXl  -coso) 
{b  +  c  +  d-  aye  -■■I't-  a-b){d  +  a  +  h-c){a  +  b+e-d) 
Mab  +  cd)' 
N(iw  let  a  +  b  +  c  +  d-Zi, 

t£c».  J(ai  +  erf)  sin  a  —  V(»  -  a){s  -  6)(a  -  c){j  -  d) ; 

{horefore        nrea  of  ABCD  -  \^(s  -  a){s  -  6)(5  -  c){s  -  d) , 

or      log  area  — i{lop(s-o)  +  log(s-i)  +  log(3-<;)  +  log(s  -a!))  . 

If  rf  =  0,  the  quadrilateral  becomes  a  triangle,  and  its  area  is 
■>/(»  -  o)(s  -  i)(»  -  c)s  as  before.  In  extracting  the  square  root  of 
sin  a  we  take  the  positive  sign,  since  the  angle  a  is  less  than  two 
right  angles. 

G.  Regular  Polygons. 

§  16.  Since  a  regular  polygon  is  both  equilateral  and  equiangular, 
a  circle  can  bo  inscribed  vrithin  it  and  also  described  about  it,  and 
thus  the  n  straight  lines  drawn 
from  the  common  centre  of  the 
two  circles  to  the  n  vertices  of  the 
polygon  divide  it  into  n  triangles 
equal  in  every  respect.  Therefore 
the  area  of  the  polygon  is  equal  to  n 
times  the  area  of  any  one  of  these 
triangles. 

§  16.  Radius  of  Inscribed  and 
Circumscribed  Circles.- — Let  AJ5  (fig. 
9)=- a  be  a  side  of  a  regular  polygon 
of  u  sides  ;  let  C  be  the  centre  of 
the  inscribed  and  circumscribed 
circles,  CD  — r  the  radius  of  the 
former,  and  CE  — R*  the  radius  of  the 
latter.  The  angle  ACB 
right  angles,  that  is 


Fig.  0. 
evidently  equal  to  the  nth  part  of  four 


A.CB. 


aeo" 


and  ACD- 


AD  = 


.  CD  tan  ACD  ~r  tan 


iACB_i^. 
180* 


AD---ACuiiACD  =  Rsin—  ; 


=  (xx  4cot- 


and  Jl^dxicosec . 

§  17.  Perimeter  of  Polygon. — The  perimetar  of  the, polygon  of 

. ,      .  .       „     1     180°         „  D  •    180° 

»  Bides  IS  na,  x.e.,  2nrtan ,  or  2nRsm . 

n  n 

From  this  it  fdllows  that  tho  perimeters  of  the  inscribed  and  circum- 
scribed  regular  polygons  of  n  sides  of  a  circle  of  radius  r  are 

.    180°       ,  „     ,     180°  ..     , 

2nrsm and  2nrtan respectively. 

§  18.'  Area  of  Polygon. 

(a)  In  terms  of  r.— The  area  of  polygon 

-7iACB-nAD.CD-nxr»tan— -  . 


360° 


(fl)  In  Urmt  of  K—rbe  triangle  ACB 

—  JAC .  CBsin  ACB- JR'sin' 

and  therefore  area  of  polygon  — JnE^sin . 

(7)  In  terms  of  a. — The  triangle  ACB 

'i.n   /-rr>     o            o      t       .180°    a"     ^180* 
-iAB.CD--i5-  xr— —  X  Jacot ——cot 

and  therefore  area  of  polygon  —  a^  x     col  ■^.- 


j4arca-logn  +  Lcot?^  +  21ogi 


-10. 


Fro-ii  a  and  fi  it  follows  that  tho  areas  of  the  inscribed  and  ciicam- 
scribed  regular- polygons  of  n  sides  of  a  circle  c!  radius  r  ar« 

inr^sin*" and  Tir^taji respectively. 

18,  y)  for  the  area  of  a  polyguu,  the 


§19.  In  the  formula 

has  a  definite  value  for  every  valuo  of  n,  and  henoe, 


factor 


if  we  find  its  value  once  for  all  for  a  large  number  of  values  of  n, 
and  tabulate  the  results,  we  can  find  the  area  of  a  regular  polygoit 
of  7!  sides  by  multiplying  the  sausre  of  its  side  by  the  ai>propnat« 
tabular  value. 

Again,  if  a  — 1  we  have 

180°  ._j  _      , 180° 


■icoti 


and  n  —  i  c 


and  thus  we  obtain  in  a  similar  manner  the  radius  of  the  inscribed 
and  circumscribed  circles  by  multiplying  the  side  by  the  appro- 
ISO*'                    180* 
priate  tabular  value  of  Jcot and  Jcoseo respectively. 

§  20.  The  following  table  icnrains  the  values  of  —cot — -  and 

in 
180°  180* 

their  logarithms,  and  the  values  of  J  cot ■  and  Icosec for  all 

n  '  n 

values  of  n  from  3  to  12. 


" 

"cotlfl 

Loff&iithma. 

Jeotl^ 

,e«.c^ 

3 

0-4330127 

1-6305006 

0-28S67 

■677M 

4 

10000000 

OOOOOOOO 

O-5OO00 

•70710 

S 

1-7204774 

0-2366490 

C-68819 

-85065 

< 

2-0980762 

0-4146519 

O8C60J 

1-0000 

7 

S-6339124 

0-5005746 

1-0383 

1-1523 

8 

4-S284271 

0-6390568 

1-2071 

l-SOtt 

9 

61818212 

0-7911166 

1-3737 

1K13 

10 

7-6942088 

0-6861040 

1-»3S8 

1-6180 

11 

93650407 

09715375 

1-7028 

17747 

12 

11-1961M4 

1-0490688 

1-8660 

1-9318 

Let  A  denote  the  area  of  a  polygon  of  n  sides  and  A'  tho  cor- 
responding tabular  value  of —  cot ,  then 

A-a=A', 
or  logA  — 21ogiz-)-logA'. 

U.— Length  of  the  Radius  of  tU  Inscribed,  Escritea,jl7ut 
Circumscribed  Circles  qf  a  Triangle. 

§   21.    [ai   Radius  of 
Inscribed  Circle. — LctO  » 

(fig.  10)  be  the  centre  of  "* 

the  circle  Inscribed  in 
tho  triangle  ABC  and 
touching  the  sides  in  D, 
E,  and  F.  Join  OA, 
OB,  and  OC.  The 
angles  -at  D,  E,  F  are 
right  angles  (Eucl.  iii. 
18).  Let  BC-a,  CA 
-6,  AB-c,  and  CD 
-OE-OF-r.  B 

Now    ABC-BOC  p.      jQ 

■f  COA-t-AOB  *'^-  '" 

•  iar  +  ibr  +  icr-i{a  +  b  +  c)r-rs 


areaof  ABC     s/s{s-a){s-b){s-c) 

rlience  r  —  — •  — 

s  s 

(0)  Radius  of  Escribed  Circles.— het  OD-OE-0/-ra,  then 
ABC  -  ACQ  -I-  ABO  -  BOC 

-  i^Ta  ■^  irra  -  Jar. -i(4-!-<r  -  a)r,-rj,s-a) , 


and 

Cimikrly 


area  of  ABC     V»(«  -  a)(J  -  ^)(^  -c)  /.■is-b){s-e)  ^ 


n-y^^^^^-^^-s/^^'^-- 


M  E  N  S  U  R  A  T  I  O  1.' 


17 


{yYSadiua  of  Oircumscribed  OircU.—'Let  AD  (fig.  12)-p  the 
perpendicular  from  A  oa  the  eide  BC,  and  AE-2R  the  diameter 


Fig.  11.  Fig.  12. 

«f  the  circle,  then  (Eucl.  vi.  C)  we  have 
2'Rxp  =  bxc, 
therefore  SRxap  =  abc. 

Now  ap  =  2A,  where  A  denotes  the  area  of  ABC  ; 
abc  abc 


hence 


R=^  =  - 


Ws{s-'a)(s-b){s-c) 
lie. — Let  a  =  13,  b  =  li,  and<;=15:  then  r  will  he  found 
to  be  4,  v.  lOi,  n  12,  r,  14,  aud  E  8J. 

Section  II.— Plane  Fiocres  contained  by  Ccilved  Lines. 
A.   The  Circle. 

§  22.  Circxtmfenrwe  of  a  Circle. — If  we  inscribe  in  any  circle  a 
regular  polygon  of  n  sides,  and  also  circumscribe  a  regular  polygon 
of  the  same  number  of  sides,  it  is  clear  that  the  perimeter  of  the 
circle  is  intermediate  between  the  perimeters  of  the  inscribed  and 
circumscribed  polygons,  and  that  the  difference  between  the  peri- 
meters of  the  inscribed  and  circumscribed  polygons  can  be  made  as 
small  as  we  please  by  sufficiently  increasing  n.  A  similar  state- 
meut  holds  with  reference  to  the  areas  of  the  circle  and  the  in- 
Bcribed  and  circumscribed  polygon;.  With  the  above  assumptions 
it  is  easily  proved  that  the  circumference  of  acircle  bears  a  constant 
ratio  to  its  diameter.     Hence  we  have 

Circumference  =  C = constant  x  radius = constant  x  r. 
It  is  usual  to  denote  this  constant  by  2ir,  and  therefore 

C  =  2jrt'=ffrf,  where  d  is  the  diameter  of  the  circle. 

§  23.  Numerical  Value  of  ir. — The  constant  ir  being,  as  can  be 
easily  proved,  an  interminable  decimal,  we  can  only  approximate 
to  its  value,  but  this  we  can  do  to  any  degree  of  accuracy  we  please. 

If  s  and  <r  denote  respectively  a  side  of  the  inscribed  and  circum- 
scribed polygons  of  n  sides,  and  s'  and  t/  a  side  of  the  inscribed 
and  circumscribed  polygons  of  2»  sides,  it  can  easily  be  shown  that 

<«^  '=V^=pf.         (B)^=2r  \  ~V?qiip  j , 


(7)  </ — ,  — —  , 


where  r  is  the  radius  of  the  circle. 

If  we  take  r=  4  we  find,  by  means  of  these  formulae,  and  by 
assuming  the  value  of  s  when  «  =  6,  that  the  perimeter  of  inscribed 
polyfjon  of  96  sides=3140  ....  ,  and  the  perimeter  of  circum- 
scribed polygon  of  96  sides=3'142.  ... 

;  From  this  we  learn  that  the  circumference  of  the  circle,  in  this 
case  IT,  is  greater  than  3'140  .-.  .  .  and  less  than3°142.  •  •  .  , 
and  therefore  as  far  as  the  second  place  of  decimals 

ir  =  3'14. 
By  taking  greater,  and  greater  values  of  n  we  obtain  closer  and 
closer  approximations  to  ir. 
•  1  The  preceding  method  for  approximating  to  the  value  of  ir  is  the 
simplest  afforded  by  elementary  geometry,  and  is  also  the  oldest ; 
but  better  and  more  rapid  methods  are  furnished  by  the  higher 
mathematics.  The  calculation  of  ir  has  been  carried  to  707  places 
of  decimals,  the  following  being  the  first  20  figures  in  the  result: — 

3-141592653589-9323846. 
iTor  all  practical  purposes  it  is  sufilcient  to  take 
.=3-14159  or=|||. 

§  24.  The  following  table  contains  the  functions  of  »  that  are  of 
Imost  frequent  occurrence  in  mensuration : — 


■  Nomber. 

Loearithm. 

Nambcr. 

Logarftbm, 

w  ■ 

3H15027 

0-4I)7M99 

n' 

9-8096044 

0-9942097 

2n- 

■  C'28318,53 

0-7981799 

_1_ 

Ati 

12'5053706 

1-0992099 

0-0168869 

2-227M90 

1-5707903 

01961199 

l-0471!)76 
0-78S39S2 

00200286 
I -8950899 

Vt 

1-77245S9 

0-2485760 

V 

0'623.Me8 

1-7189986 

V- 

1-4645919 

0-1657168 

w 

0 -3920901 

1-6940599 

t 

0-2617994 

I-4179GS8 

* 

0-5641696 

1-7514351 

4-1887902 

O-C220868 

180 

0'0I74!33 

2-2118774 

Vt 

1-1283792 

0'05345S1 

4 

0-3183099 

T-5028501 

Wi 

0-2820948 

1-4603051 

1-2732395 

0-1049101 

^~ 

1-2407010 

0-0936C71 

tir 

0-0795776 

5-9007901 

V4.r 

0-.6203505 

1-792S371 

67-2957795 

1-7681226 

log.,r 

1-1447299 

00587030 

Fig.  13. 


§25.  Units  of  Angular  Measurement. — In  measm-ing  lines  we 
select  some  line  of  constant  length  as  the  standard  or  unit ;  simi- 
larly in  measuring  angles  we  require  to  take  some  angle  of  constant 
magnitude  as  unit  angle.  The  right 
angle  is  by  its  nature  the  simplest  unit 
angle,  but,  for  convenience,  we  take  the 
■sVth  part  of  a  right  angle  for  unit,  and 
call  it  a  degree,  which  is  subdivided 
into  sixty  equal  parts  called  minutes, 
and  these  again  into  sixty  equal  parts 
called  seconds.  For  theoretical  purposes 
we  define  the  unit  angle  to  be  tlie  angle 
subtended  at  the  centre  of  a  circle  by  an 
are  equal  to  tlie  radius.  This  angle  we 
call  a  "radian."  In  many  treatises  the 
radian  measure  of  an  angle  is  called 
the  circular  measure. 

§  26.  The  radian  is  a  constant  angle. — Let  OA  (fig.  13)=arc  AB 
=  r,  then  AOB=radian,  and  let  AOD=90°j  then 

arc  AD  =  ix2-irr=  i-irr  ; 
and,  since  angles  at  the  centre  of  a  circle  are  proportional  to  the 
arcs  on  which  they  stand  ( Eucl.  vi.  33), 

number  of  degrees  in  radian  AOB_  AB      r      _2_ 
number  of  degrees  in  AOD  AD    iwr     ir  ' 

therefore  number  of  degrees  in  radian 

=  90°  X  —  =  57''-  2957796  =  constant. 
n 

§  27.  Number  of  Radians  in  any  Angle.— het  AOC  (fig.  13)  ho 
any  angle,  AOB  the  radian,  and  AC=s  ;  then 

nnmber  of  radians  in  AOC     AC  _  _«_ . 
one  radian  AB      r 

therefore  number  of  radians  in  AOC= 

r 

If  AOC=90°,  then  s=iirr,  and  number  of  radiana=iir ;  there  are 
thus  IT  radians  in  two  and  2ir  in  four  right  angles. 

When  r=l  we  have  number  of  radians  =  s,  and  hence  in  some 
treatises  for  the  number  of  radians  in  an  angle  we  find  the  length 
of  the  arc  given. 

§  28.  To  transfer  from  degrees  to  radians  and  conversehj.  — Let  a> 
denote  the  number  of  degrees  in  an  angle,  and  0  the  number  of 

radians  in  the  same,  then,  since  ^5773 =-2  > 

180„ 


180° 


§  29.  The  following  table  contains  the  valnes  of  0  for  valncs  of 
a;  up  to  180°,  and  also  for  minutes  and  seconds. 


•s 

s 

S 

s 

Radi- 

1 

Radian. 

£ 

RadluQ. 

£ 

Radian, 

Radian. 

a 

an. 

Q 

0 

a 

-0 

s 

-000 

1 

•0174533 

61 

I  •0e4C508 

121 

2-1118484 

1 

002909 

1 

0048 

2 

-0349066 

(17 

i-os2ion 

li'l! 

2-1293017 

2 

005818 

2 

0097 

3 

■0523599 

03 

1-0995674 

123 

2-I4C76.50 

3 

008727 

4 

•0C.98132 

04 

I -1170107 

124 

2  1042083 

4 

011030 

4 

0194 

5 

■0872065 

or. 

1-1344610 

r.>5 

2-1810610 

6 

014544 

6 

6 

•1047198 

60 

1-1119173 

120 

2-1991149 

6 

017463 

7 

■12-.'1730 

07 

1-1093700 

1-17 

2-2105682 

7 

020362 

7 

fl 

■1396263 

08 

1^18C8239 

12s 

2-2310214 

H 

023271 

H 

0388 

9 

•1570790 

69 

I  ■201-2772 

129 

2-2514717 

9 

020180 

9 

0436 

10 

■1745329 

70 

I  -2217305 

1311 

2-2659280 

10 

029089 

0485 

20 

80 

1-39021134 

140 

2-4434010 

20 

058178 

20 

0970 

90 

1  -5707903 

1.-.0 

2-CI79939 

30 

087206 

30 

40 

■C98I317 

100 

1  -74.'.329:l 

169 

2-792.'i2e8 

40 

116355 

40 

19-19 

60 

•8720646 

no 

1  -9198622 

170 

2-9070.',97 

60 

145444 

60 

60 

I^0471976 

120 

2-0943951 

180 

3-1415927 

00 

174533 

60 

18 


MENSURATION 


Aa  an  oxamplo  of  the  nse  of  this  tabic  we  proceed  to  find  the 
valuo  of  0  when  a=ti3''  45'  17" '8. 

■Whcn.T=68°   9  =  1-1868239, 

a  =  40'    «=    0110355, 

a;=   5'    «=    -0014514, 

a;- 10"  e=   -0000485, 

x=   T   e=   -0000339, 

and  when  a:  =  0'-89=   -0000039, 

therefore  when  ar=G8°  45'  17" '8  0=1-2000001 . 

§  30.  Combining  the  results  of  §§  27  and  28  wo  obtaii 

,  ,      .     s         ,        180      s   . 

(a)      e= — ,  anda;  = .  —  J 

r  ir        J- 

(fl)        ,  =  4=11.0.    A; 
d  T!  X 

{y)        »  =  .(,=  ^^.«. 

'§31.  Lemglh  of  Arcs  of  Circles.— The  following  are  the  more  im- 
(lortant  cases; — 

I    (a)  In  terms  of  (he  chord  of  the  arc  and  the  radius  of  the  circle. — 
I,8t  AB  (fig.  14)  =  2c,  AC  =  r,  and  AEB  =  s,  then 

AD  =  JAB=c  =  rsiniC,  whence  C  is  known,  and  therefore 
the  arc  s  is  found  (§  30,  7). 
^   (/8)  In  terms  of  (he  height  of  the  arc  and  the  radius  of  the  circle. — 
Xot  I)E=A=height  of  arc,  then  ' 

CD  =  CE-DE=j--fi,' 

ir,     CD    r-h 

and  cos4C=--:-= , 

AC        «• 

whence  0  is  found,  and  therefore  9 


Fig.  14.  Fig.  16. 

S  32.  Buygens's  Approximation  to  the  Length  of  a  Circular  Arc. — 

Lot  AB  (fig.  15)  =p  be  the  chord  of  the  arc  AEB,  and  AE  =  EB=-j 

that  of  half  the  arc,  then  the  arc  AEB  =  J  (89  -  p)  approximately. 

I   For,  let  r  denote  the  radius,  s  the  arc  AEB,  and  20  the  angle 

ACB,  then  6=^.      Again,  AB=2)=2AD=2»-sine=2r8in 


2r  ' 


and  similarly  g= 2r  sin  —  . 
Now  smS^d- 


therefor        p=2.- j  ^.^^(^^^^(i-y  -  &C  j 


2. 3. 4.  5.  16. r* 


Sinularly      8,  =  16.  j  A^-i|(^)V^(i^J  -  &c. 


2.3.  4.r=    2.  3  . '. 
Hence,  neglecting  powers  of  — be- 
yond the  fourth,  wo  obtain 

approximately. 

In  practice  it  is  sometimes  more 
convenient  to  use  the  enuiyalent 
form 

s=25  +  5(2g-y). 

§33.  Area  of  Sector  of  a  Circle.— 
Let  the    sector  be   CAB  (fig.   16). 
Divide  the  arc  AB  into  n  equal  parts, 
and  draw  the  chords  of  these.     Let  P  denote  the  perimeter  of  the 
Uroken  lino  AB,  A  tho  area  of  tho  polygon  AOB,  and  p  the  alti- 


I'ig.  16. 


tudc  of  any  one  of  the  n  equal  triangles  of  which  this  polygon  ^ 
made  up. 

Now  in  tho  limit,  when  n  is  indefinitely  increased,  P  beco-r^s 
tho  arc  AB=s,  a  result  which  we  symbolize  thus — 
Jj        P=arcAB=s. 


Similarly 


^=radiu3=r. 


Again,  the  area  of  the  sector  is  equal  to  the  area  of  the  polygn* 
when  the  broken  line  AB  becomes  tho  arc  AB,  that  is, 

sector = L„=„  A = L„=„  J  J"<  P  ■=  J  L„_„P  X  L„=„  P  • 

=  !,rs . 
§  34.  Let  S  denote  the  area  of  a  sector  of  a  circle,  then,  by  ueana 
of  tho  above  result  and  §  27,  we  hava 
(a)        S  =  l«-, 
(6)        S  =  irfl.r=ir=ff. 
§  35.  "We  proceed  to  find  the  area  of  a  sector  of  a  circle  in  thsfol- 
lowing  additional  cases  :— 

(a)    IVhen  the  chord  of  the  sector  and  the  radiits  of  the  cirile  ar* 
given.— In  fig.  14  let  AB  =  2i;,  and  let  AC  =  »-,  then  we  have 
ACB     AD      c   . 


sin  — ,— = 


AC 


whence  ACB  and  therefore  0  is  known,  and  S  can  be  found  hy  %  34. 
ACB  has  two  values,  the  smaller  one  giving  the  area  of  th.;  m'.nor, 
and  the  larger  that  of  the  major  conjugate  sector. 

(B)    IVhcn  tlie  chord  and  height  of  the  chord  are  giwn. — Lot 
DE  (fig.  14)  -h  and  AB  =  '2c,  then 

AC2=j-2  =  AD=+DC2  =  (;'+(r-A)^,  whence 
xx=*LJi — ,  and  therefore  by  previous  case  the  aroa  can  be  found, 

(7)   Wlien  the  chord  and  angle  suhlended  at  the  centre  are  given. 
—Let  AB  (fig.  14)  =20  and  ACB  =  0,  then 

c         .    ACB  c      - 

—  =  sm  — ;;—  ,  or  r  =  -: — 5-5 , 
r  2  sm^S 

therefore  area  of  sector = Jr-*  =  J  (  ^-i_  )  x  5 . 
\smi»/ 

§  36.  Area  of  a  Circle. — The  circle  being  a  sector  whose  arc  is  tha 
whole  cii'cumfercnce  we  obtain  at  once 

area  of  circle  ■=4rxa  =  ^rx  2«-  =  irr'. 
An  independent  proof  of  this   proposition   might  be  given  by 
means  of  the  inscribed  and  circumscribed  polygons,  and  from  th» 
area  of  a  circle  the  area  of  a  sector  can  be  deduced.     The  infini- 
tesimal calculus  aflTords  a  simple  and  elegant  proof  (see  §  44). 

§  37.   If  A  denote  tho  area,  r  tho  radius,  d  =  2r  tho  diameter,  and 
C  the  circumference  of  a  circle,  we  have 

(c.)  A-nr-, 

(^)  A-Jx2itrxr  =  40r, 

inV     C= 

(7)  ^-TT-ii' 

ir4r'      ird? 

(8)  K^"^-^. 

■Wbence  we  see  that  the  area  of  a  circle  is  obtained  by  multiplying 
(a)  the  square  of  its  radius  by  x  =  3-14159, 
(/3)  the  radius  by  half  the  circumference, 
(y)  tho  square  of  the  circumference  by  —  =  -07967  , 

(8)  the  square  of  the  diameter  by  Jir  =  -78539 . 
§  38.  Again,  from  the  above  formuh-e  we  deduca 

(a)  r— ^  A- -5641896  x  A, 

Vtt 


(/3)  d ==A  =  l-1283792xA, 

Vir_ 
(7)  <!-2v'ffA-3-5449077xA, 

thus  obtaining  radius,  diameter,  and  circumference  from  area. 

§  39.  Area  of  a  Circular  BiJig. — Let  r  and  r^  denote  the  radii  of 
the  outer  and  inner  circles   respect- 
ively (fig.   17),  then  the  area  of  the 
space  between  them 

-  irr^  -  irrj  =  ir(r  ^  ri)(r  -  r,, . 
Tho  circles  need  not  bo  concentric, 
and  tho  reader  should  note  that  tlio 
area  of  tho  ring  is  equal  to  tho  area 
01  an  ellipse  whoso  major  and  minor 
axes  arc  r  +  r^  and  r-  rj  (see  §  51). 

§  40.  Area  of  the  Sector  of  nn 
Annulus. — Let  angle  ACB  — fi  in  fig. 
17,  then  the  area  of  ABED 

-sector  ACB  -  sector  DCE 

-ir-e-ir^S, 

.=  i«(r+r,)(r-r,). 


Fig.  17. 


MENSURATION 


19 


igajn,  letAE=?,  DE=Ju  andCA-CD=r-r,  =  ;i,  then 
r--3-  ana  'j^-g-  i  therefore 

r+r,=-g-(J+Z,),  and 

area  of  8ector-.3S(r+r,j(r-r,)=i9  (l^y=ih{l+l,). 

§41.  Area  (if  a  Segment  of  a  Circle. — (a)  IFTien  the  radius  and  tJu 
angle  subimdcd  at  the  centre  an  given.— la  fig.  14,  let  AEiJ  be  a 
eegment  of  a  circle,  then  its  area 

=  sector  AC  B  -  triangle  ACB. 
=  4r'e-Jr=sinfl(§§9,  34) 
=  ir'^C  -  sin  6) . 
If  the  segment  be  greater  than  a  semicircle  siufi  is  oegatiTB  and 
the  formula  becomes 

ir'(,e  +  sme) 

ts  is  also  geometrically  evident. 

We  might  in  a  similar  manner  find  the  area  of  a  segmcLt  of  a  circle 

(fl)  when  the  chord  and  radius  are  given, 

(7)  when  the  chord  and  its  height  are  given, 

(!)  when  the  radius  and  height  of  the  chord  are  given, 

(e)  when  the  chord  and  angle  subtended  by  the  chord  are  given. 

In  all  these  cases  the  method  of  proceeding  is  obvious,  a  segment 
beiag  the  (kfTerence  between  a  sector  and  a  triangle. 

§  42.  Area  of  a  iiin*.— Let  ADB  and  ACB  (fig.  lo/  oe  two  seg- 
ments of  circles,    then  the  area  of 
the  Inne  ADBC 

—segment  ADB  -  segment  ACB. 
Hence  if  we  so  choose  our  data  that 
we  can  determine  the  areas  of  the 
two  segments  we  have  ouly  to  take 
their  difference  to  fiad  the  area  of 
the  lune. 

5  43.  Area  oj  a  Circjuar  /ion». — 
Let  AB  and  CD  (fig.  19)  be  two 
parallel  chords,  then  the  area  of  the  zone  ABCD 

=cbcl8  -  segment  AHB  -  semient  DFC ; 
or  =  segment  AED  +  trapezium  ABCD  +  segment  BGO 

—  2  segment  AED  +  trapezium  ABCD. 

§  44.  The  iNFiNrrEsiiiAL  Calcdlus  (q.v.)  furnishes  a  simple  and 
elegant  proof  of  the  formulse  for  the  areas  of  a  circle  and  a  sector. 
If  y=^z)  be  the  equation  to  a  plane  curve  referred  to  rectangular 


Fig.  18. 


Fig.  19. 


Fig.  20. 


axes,  then  the  area  bctwsen  the  cnrre,  the,  axis  of  x,  and  two 
ordinates  corresponding  to  the  abscissa  a  and  b  is  represented  by 
the  iut^ral 


/ 


<t>{x)dx. 


For  example,  let  AGP  (fig.  20)  be  6,  then  area  of  circle 
=  -2/     rf*--5—=Tr' as  before. 
The  area  of  3  sector  can  be  found  in  a  similar  manner. 

B,   The  Parabola. 
§  48.  Length  of  an  Arc  of  any  Plane  Curve. — If  a  plane  cnrve  b» 
referred  to  rectangular  axes,  then  the  length  of  any  arc  of  tha 
curve 

-/i -(!)■!'-/{. H-(S)i'4 

taken  between  proper  limits,  i,c.,  the  extremities  of  the  arc     Se6 

IKFINITESIUAI.  C\ICVLVS. 

'  47.  Arc  of  a  Parabola. — Let  the  axes  of  coonlinates  be  the  axis 


Let  X  and  y  be  the  coordinates  of  P  (fig.  20),  then  if  OP=r  the 
equation  to  the  circle  isy''=r'-r',  and  therefore 


Q' 

Fig.  21. 
of  X  and  the  tangent  at  the  vertex  A  (fig.  21),  then,  the  equation 
to  the  paialxila  being  i/'=2ma:,  where  «i=2a=|  latna  rectum,  w» 
have 

-;-  =—,  andhence 
d'j    m 

.=ar^A^"|l.|,ji^ 

„yi'^y;+"t')  m  j^^  /'yl-^^/y;+"^'  i . 

therefore  whole  arc  PAP'=-2!-v'p:f^  +  TOiog,f?l±^M±^Y 
Since  y2>=2»nxi,  the  formula  may  be  written 

arc  PAF=VSJTP;  +  lI  log,  /2^i  + V'<^i  +  vA  . 

§  48.  Area  of  a  Parabola.— Taking  the  equation  to  the  parabola 
in  the  form  ir=ipx,  we  get 

area  of  segment  PAP'  (fig.  21) =2/      i^Jpxdx 


1^1=^ 


area  of  quadrant  AOB =f 


^    oL^""       r  +  2 

and  therefore  area  of  whole  circle =nr'. 

§  45.  If  the  equation  to  a  plane  carve  be  given  in  polar  coordi- 
natca,  the  area  bounded  by  two  radii  and  the  curve  is  equal  to 


From  these  formtilx  we  see  that  the  area  of  a  parabolic  segmesit 
varies  directly  as  the  cube  of   the  square 
root   of   the  abscissa,   and  directly   as  the 
cube  of  the  ordinate,  and  that  it  is  equal 
to  i  rectangle  PQQ'P,  or  |  triangle  PTF 

A  similar  relatioa  holds  for  the  segment 
cut  off  by  any  chord,  and  thus  the  area  of 
any  parabolic  segment  can  be  determined  in 
terms  of  any  data  that  are  sufficient  to  de- 
termine the  segment 

§  49.  Areir.    of  a    Parabolic   Zone. — Let 
PM  (fig.  22)  =y„  QN-y„,  AM=x„  AN-a;^, 
and  let  the  ordinates  be  inclined  to  the  axis 
a*^  an  angle  a. 
I         Area  of  zone  PQCT  -  segment  PAP 
-  segment  QAQ' 

Zp 


3^v<fi>. 


where  9|  and  6^  an  tlie  Talues  of  6  cancsponding  to  the  limiting 
.ndii. 


Now  j/J  =  4pi,  and  yl  =  ipx^,  thereiore 


y;-y; 


substitnting  for;  we  have  area  of  zone 
=  S(x.-xj('4^nsin«=j5!^ 


Mxi-x^ 


C.   The  Ellipse. 

§  60.  Circumference  of  an  Ellipse. — The  equation  to  the  elUpeai 

being -= -t- -1^  » 1 ,  whercaand  i&re  thesemiazes,  we  have 
-     a'     tr 


20 


MENSURx\TION 


are  01  ouadrant  AB  = 


:,  >nd  therefore  (fig.  23) 
i. 


dx "     a'y 

_  /"a  1  g'  -  cV 
7o     (    a-' -a:-'" 
This  inteeral  may  lio  shown  to  be  equal  to  the  series 
1.3=.  5c« 


dx,  where  c' 


Yl  -il-Lii^ 
r^,  2"     2^ .  4- " 


2-  .  4' 


&c. 


jB  rapidly  converging  series  when  « is  a  small  fraction. 

By  taking  more  and  nioro 
terms  of  the  above  series  we  can 
appro.ximate  as  nearly  as  we 
please  to  the  circumference  of  an 
ellipse.  For  example,  we  have 
quadrant  AB 

to  a  first  approximation; 
lieiicewholo  circumference  ^' 

,=,{(M+(?^p  nearly.  Fig.  2a 

§  51.  ^rea  of  an  JSUipse.  —We  have  at  once 

area  =  4/    ydxi  =  —  /    \/d'  -  x-dx . 
'0  "■Jo 


fiut 


t/"  Vo=- 

.Thus, 


irdx  is  the  area  of  the  quadrant  of  a  circle  of  radios 
area  of  ellipse  =  4 —  (§  44) 

--  The  following  proof  is  worth  the  reader's  attention.  By  a  well- 
'known  theorem  in  conic  sections  the  orthogonal  projection  of  a 
circle  on  a  given  plane  is  an  ellipse.  Now,  if  A  denote  the  area  of 
any  plane  figure,  A'  the  area  of  the  projected  figure,  and  0  the  angle 
between  the  plane;?  it  can  easily  be  shown,  by  dividing  the  two 
areas  by  planes  indefinitely  near  to  each  other  and  perpendicular 
to  the  common  section  of  the  planes,  that 

Acos0  =  A'. 
In  the  case  of  the  circle  and  ellipse  A=jra^  and  cos9= —  ; 

hence  area  of  ellipse = iru'  x  — = iraJ . 

§  52.  ArMi  of  an  Ellipse  in  terms  of  a  Fair  of  Conjugate  Diame- 
ters,— Let  a'  and  6'  denote  the  seraicoujugate  diameters,  and  a  the 
angle  between  them,  then  by  an  elementary  property  of  the  ellipse 

ab  =  a'b's\na; 
hence  area  of  ellipse—ira'd'sina. 

D.    The  Hyperhola, 
%  53.  Area  of  a  Segiiieit  of  an  ffyperbola.—Tbe  equation  of  an 
hyperbola  being  — r  -  ^=  ^  >  ^^  htLve 


If  the  axes  of  coordinates  be  inclined  at  an  angle  a,  we.moltipl^ 
the  above  results  by  sino  to  obtain  the  correct  areas' 


('ig.  24. 


Fig.  25. 


y=— Var'-o= ;  hence  (fig.  2'. 
erea  of  the  segment  PAP  =  2  —  /     "^x'-a'dx 

-i,y,-aMog.^a.+a.^ 

,  §  H7Arca  of  a  Sector  of  an  Hijperhola. — The  sector  PAP'C  is 
iequal  to  triangle  PCP'- segment  PAP' 

'Xai-  j  Xi!/i  -  aMog,^^  +  ^!-^  I 
=„Mog.(^  +  ^) 

,    §  55.  Area  of  a  Zone  of  an  Hyperhola. — In  fig.  24  the  zone 
PFQ'Q 

-segment  QAQ'-segmo'-t  PAP' 

=a.,,y,-aMog,(|rf)-.,,.  +  aMog,(S  +  ^) 

..,y,-..y,-aMog,(5gg),  where 

By  y,  and  ij,  2/j  are  the  coordinates  of  P  ana  Q  respectively. 


§  56.  Area  hounded  hy  an  Hyperhola  and  its  Asymptotes, — The 
equation  of  an  hyperbola  referred  to  its  asymptotes  is  of  the  form 

Let  CM'  (fig.  25)=«,,  CM  =  ^„,  Q'M'=i/i,Q  M=j/;a_then,  if  a  I» 
the  angle  between  the  asymptotes, 

area  of  Q1IM'Q'=  /  ^'fsmoax 

=  i?s,ma/    '  —  =  (rsmolog,(  —  )  =  casino log,(  —  I  » 
7x2      x  °\X2J  Wi/ 

since  x.,  =  — anda-g^ — . 

.     a'  +  6'      J    .  2ab  ,  ,,       . 

Now  <?•=' — 7 —  and  sino=-j— p ,  and  thr.retoro 

(a)  a.Te^=iab\og,(^^)=iahlos.(^^\ 

Again,  let  MM'=a;i-Zj=i>,  then 

c-=x,y,=XM,=-^^^^  ,  therefore  ■ 

(S)       QMM'Q'=  P&log,fS.^sina=H!^ log/ i^)  in«-. 
Again,  since 

4a^!/iSina  =  Jc'sina-JXoVjSina , 
we  have  triangle  QCM  =  Q'CM',  and  hence 

the  sector  QCQ'  =  QMM'Q'. 
The  corresponding  results  for  a  rectangular  hyperbola  are  ob- 
tained by  substituting  in  the  above  formulae  ia^  for  c^  and  1  fot 
sino. 

Section  IIL — Plake  Ikregulah,  KEcxiLrNEAL,  and  \jTra.yi- 
LINEAL  Figures. 

A.  Irregular  Rcclilincal  Figures, 

§  67.  The  area  of  any  irregular  polygon  can  be  found  by  dividing 
it  into  triangles,  trapeziums,  kc,  in  the  most  convenient  manner, 
and  adding  together  all  the  areas.     Fop  example, 
ABCDEF  (fig.  26)  =  CKB  +  BKHA  +  AHF  +  FGE  +  EaiD  +  Dia' 


Fig.  26.  Fig.  27. 

It  may  sometimes  happen  that  some  of  the  component  figures 
have  to  be  subtracted  instead  of  added ;  for  example, 

ABODE  (fig.  27)  =  AFHE  +  BCG-AFGB-EDH. 
§  58.  Again,  the  irregular  rectilineal. figure  PjPj  .  .  .  PjPj  (fig. 
28)  can  be  broken  up  into  a  .scries  of  triangles  and-trapeziams  a» 
shown  in  the  figure,  and  hence  its  area  can  be  found. 

§  59.  A  figure  made  up  of  straight  lines  may  be  measured  by 
cutting  it  up  into  triangles  by  lines  drawn  from  some  one  vortex  to 
the  others.     For  cxamiile  (fig.  29), 

ABCDEF  =  ABC  +  ACD  +  ADE  +  AEF. 


M  E  N  S  U  RAT  ION 


21 


it  the  polygon  bs  concave  some  of  the  triangles  will  hare  to  be 
jnbtracted. 


Fig.  28.  Fig.  29. 

§  60.  Area  of  a  Polygon  in  terms  of  the  Coordinates  of  its  Angular 
Points.  — Let  the  coordi- 
nates of  P,  Q,  R  (fi«.  30)  bo 
(ii,  Vi).  (a^s.  J/s).  and  {x.„  i/,) 
roapcctively,  and  let  tho 
axes  be  inclined  at  an  angle 
B.  Draw  PL,  Qll,  and  RN 
parallel  to  OY,  then 
LM-OM-OL-Xj-x,, 
MN-0N-0M=X3-a;j,  _ 

«nd  QT"         L  M 

NL-ON-OL-Xa-Xi.  Fig.  30. 

Now  PQR-PLMQ  +  QMNE-PLNR. 

Bot  PLMQ  =  PLM  +  QMP  =  PLM  +  QLM 

-.iPL-LMsino  +  4QM-LMsina80°-o)(§9,  (3^ 
-i(=:i-=;i)(yi  +  !/2)sino. 
Similarly  QM'S'B,-iiXi-x,){7j,+y,)sma, 

•od  PLNR  - 1(^3  -  Xi)(i/a + yi)  sin  a ;  hence 

areaof  PQR-isina{)/i(z3-Xj)  +  y,(x3-x,)  +  y,(x,-Xj)}; 
or  in  the  notation  of  determinants 

•-isina      111 


Vi  Vi  Vz  I 

Wlien  the  axes  are  rectangnlar  sina=8in90°"l,  and  ihe  formnla 
for  the  area  becomes 

i{y,(Z3-a;3)  +  2/j(x3-x,)  +  2/3(x,-a:s)} 
'i      1    1    1 

Xi   Xj   X3 

Vi  Vi  Vi 

§  61.  The  area  of  any  rectilineal  figure  of  n  eides  can  be  found  by 
taking  any  point  within  the  figure  and  joining  it  to  the  n  vertices 
€f  the  figure,  thus  dividing  it  into  n  triangles  the  area  of  each  of 
vhich  can  be  obtained  as  in  the  preceding  case. 

Wo  may,  however,  find  the  area  of  the.  figure  directly. 

For  example,  in  fig.  31 

PQ  RST  -  PPTT  +  TTS'S  +  SS'R'K  -  EE'Q'Q  -  QQTP, 
and  in  fig.  32 
PQRSTU  =  PP'U'U-I-  RE'Q'Q + TT'S'S  -  PP'Q'Q  -  RR'S'S  -  TTTJ'U. 


V 

T 

. 

3 

P 

L 

> 

^ 

R 

C) 

[>'i 

r    Q-£ 

V  X 

Fig.  31. 


PR'Q'  Tar 

fig.  32. 


B.  Irregular  Ourvilineal  Figures. 
§  62.  iength  of  any  Curve. — If  we  divide  the  given  arc  into  an 
even  number  of  intervals  and  re-  jj 

gard  these  as  approximately  circu- 
lar, we  can  find  an  approximal^on 
to  the  length  of  the  arc  by  means 
of  Huygens's  formula,  §  32.  For 
•xample,  if  we  divide  ABC  (fig.  83) 
into  four  parts  in  D,  B,  and  E,  and 
draw  the  chords  AD,  AB,  DB,  BE, 
BC,  and  EC,  then 
arc  AC  -  AD  +  DB  +  BE -t- EC -h  |(  AD -f  DB -f  BE -H  EC  -  AB  -  BC) 
approximately. 


Pig.  33. 


r  or  other  methoos  of  approximation,  see  Rankine's  Hules  ani 
Tables. 

§  63.  Area  of  an  Irregular  Curvilineal  Fig^ire. — For  rough  ap- 
proximations the  following,  called  the  traoezoidal  method,  may  be 
used: — 

Divide  AjAn  (fig.  3i)  into  n  equal  parts,  and  through  the  pointa 


Fig.  34. 
of  division  draw  the  ordinates,  called  by  surveyors  offsets,  AiP,, 
A,Pj,  &c. 
Let  AjP,  "=s, ,  AjPj-»,,  &c.,  AnPn-<>u  and 

A^A.^^k^A^■=   ,  ,  .    -=An-iAn  =  a. 
Join  P1P5,  PjP3,  kc,  then  the  area  of  the  polygon  A,A„P„P,P, 
"AiAjPjl'i-l-AjAaPsPj-l-  .  .  .-.    -l-A„.iA„P„P„.i 
=  io(»l  +  »s)  +  4«CSa  +  «3)+   •  •  •  •    +ia(Sn-l  +  »n)(§  1».  a) 
'=o{i(«i  +  »«)  +  «3  +  *a+  •  •  •  •+»»-!}• 
If  we  take  n  sufficiently  great  the  difference  between  the  area  ol 
the  polygon  and  the  curvilineal  figure  can  be  made  as  small  as  we 
please,  in  other  words,  the  smaller  we  make  a  the  more  accurately 
will  the  above  formula  represent  the  area  of  the  cuivUineal  figure. 
Tho    curve    may    either    be  ^ 

wholly  convex  or  wholly  concave  p, C         p      D. 

to  the  line  A,A„,  or  partly  con-       r?^^5p 
vex  and  partly  concave.  "  '^ — ^     '  ' 

§  64.  Simpson's  ijufc— Let 
AjAn  (fig.  34)  be  divided  into 
an  cv«?i- number  of  equal  parts, 
and  as  before  through  the  points 
of  division  draw  the  ordinates 
A  P    A  P    &c 

'li'tA'.A'JPaPi^figs.  35,  36)bo       k        .       a.        A,     A.     _.. 
a   part  of  the   figure   thus  di- 
vided; join  PjPj,  and  through  j-;™  35,  pjg.  38. 
Pj  draw  BC  parallel  to  P,P3  to               " 

meet  AiP,  in  B  and  A3P3  in  C.     Conceive  a  parabola  to  be  drawn 
through  PjPjPs  haviug  its  axis  parallel  to  the  ordinates,  theu 
A,PiPjP3A3  =  trapezi.*.m  AiPiDPjAaiparabolic  segment  PiPjP, 
=  c(«,-f  S3)±ia{«a~i(Si  +  »3)}=J«(''i  +  ^*a  +  »3)- 
Now  when  the  points  P„P;,P3  are  near  each  other  tho  parabolic 
curve  will  coincide  very  nearly  with  the  given  curve ;  hence 

AiPjPjPaAa"  Jo(s, -t-  4S3  +  S3)  very  nearly. 
Similarly  AsP^e^/i.ti-'iaiSi+iSt+s^),  &c. ; 

hence  whole  area  of  figure 

=  ia{si  +  Sn  +  2{S3  +  s^+  ....  +s„.,)  +  i{h  +  ^i+  •  •  ■  •  +»»-')}; 
whence  the  rule:— add  together  the  two  extreme  ordinates,  twico 
the  sum  of  the  intermediate  odd  ordinates,  and  four  times  the  sum 
of  the  even  ones,  and  multiply  this  result  by  one-third  of  the  common 
distance  between  the  ordiuates;  the  result  is  the  area, — accurately  if 
the  curved  boundary  be  the  arc  of  a  parabola,  iu  other  cases  ap- 
proximately. , 

The  curve  may  either  be  wholly  convex  or  wholly  concave  to  tuB 
line  A,A„,  or  partly  convex  and  partly  concav«,  provided  in  the 
latter  case  the  points  of  contrary  fiexure  occur  only  at  the  odd 
ordinates,  for  otherwise  the  intermediate  arcs  could  not  be  even 
approximately  parabolic.  When  points  of  contrary  flexure  occur 
ordinates  may  bo  drawn  at  these  points,  and  the  intermediate  arcs 
being  found  separately  may  be  added  to  obtain  the  whole  area. 

§  65.  In  the  two  preceding  sections  we  investigated  two  formnla 
for  approximating  to  the  areas  of  cnrvilinear  figures.  ^  Wfe  no^ 
proceed  to  consider  the  subject  more  generally. 


Ai        Ap  Ap 


Ai»»i^ 


Fig.  37. 


Let  the  equation  to  the  curve  PiP,P„+i  (fig.  87)  ngree  with  thS] 


122 


ENSURATION 


ieqDation!/=A  +  Bz+Cs'+  ....  +K3"forn+l  points  between 
P,  and  Pn+i,  then  the  area  of  the  cnrvilinear  figure  bounded  by  the 
Wraight  lines  A,P,,  AiA„+i,  and  A„+iP„+i  and  the  curve  PiP„+i 
mill  agree  very  nearly  with  the  curvilinear  figure  bounded  by  the 
tiioe  straight  lines  and  the  curve  whose  equation  i3y  =  A  +  Bz  + 
Ci~  +....+  Kx",  and  the  greater  the  number  of  common  points 
the  closer  will  be  the  agreement. 

I    Let  A,A„+i  be  divided  into  n  equal  partj,  each  equal  to  h,  then 
'AiA„+i=7iA.  _  Now 
\vhena=0,    y-=y,  =  A; 

yihenx'-k,    y~y^=A  +  'Bh+Ch-+  ....   +KA"; 
.whenz-2A,  j/-y3=A  +  B(2ft)  +  C(2A)»+ 


yihenx^ph,  y= yr+\  =  k-\-'B{ph)  +  C{pK)-  + 
when  a=KA,  !/=»;„+i  =  A  +  B(n7t)  +  C(n7j)=  + 


,  .   +K(n;i.)». 


From  these  )i  +  l  equations  the  m  +  1  quantities  A,  B E 

can  be  determined  as  functions  of  7„  !/j,  ....  i/n+i ,  .lud  ft. 

I    Next  let  A,Ar,+i  bs  divided  into  m  equal  parts  each  equal  to  h. 

Thus  mh=nh  and  hence  h,  =  — . 


Now 
iBut 


the  area  of  the  rectangle  ApAp+iP,R=A,Ap+ix  A,P,. 
■A,Fy = r/p  -  A  +  B(pA)  +  CtpA)'  + 


p.nh 


i^^r 


.  .   +K{ph)" 


and 

therefore  area  of  A,R 

■Tih\  —  +  Bnh-^,+Cn%'—,+   . 
I  m  m^  m' 

fleace  the  area  of  the  whole  figure 


+  Kn»A' 


m"+'  1 


0  ^p=l      I  m  in?  ■    m*  m"+'  J 


nh\  A 


So 


RtiA 


-T,+ 


Cn'K- 


S., 


where  S„=l»+2'>+3"+         .  .    +m». 

Now  if  we  take  the  limit  of  each  of  the  terms 

§1    fi.     i  ^" 

m  *  m"  *  m-*  *    ■  •  •  •  ^„+i » 

we  obliin  area  of  curviliiicajr  figure 

,  (   .      B    ,     C    „,,  K 

=  »«  <    A+-;^ft+-^7l-/l^+     .     . 


l+l 


fi^h" 


From  this  general  result  we  can  deduce  "  Simpson's  Kule  "  and 
also  another  rule  called  "Weddle's  Rule." 

I  TJhus  let  n  —  2;  that  is,  assume  that  the  curve  under  consideration 
i^as  three  points  in  common  with  the  curve  whose  equation  is 
ly—A+Ba+Cx",  i.e.,  with  a  parabola,  then 

2/3=A  +  BA  +Ch?, 
2/3=A  +  2BA  +  4CA». 

^ow  the  area  is  approximately 

=  2A{A+4B2A+1C2=A=} 

=  J7»{6A+CB/»  +  8CA=} 

■=^{^1  +  41/34-2/3},  Simpson's Eiilj. 

If  we  now  put  71=6,  we  have  area  of  curvilinear  figure 

-  6A  { A  +  iB6A+  SC6%s  +  }C6%'  +  JEC'A*  +  JF6=A=  +  ^6%"} . 

^ow  »/i=A, 

j/3=A+B/i+C;i-+  .  .-.  .   +Gh\ 


t/7=A  +  B(6A)  +  C(6A)'+  ....  C(6i)». 

From  this  system  of  equations  we  can  determine  A,  B,  C,  .  .  .  G, 
{and  substituting  the  values  so  obtained  in  the  above  expression  we 
obtiun  the  following  remarkable  formula  for  the  approximate  area: 

area=AA{(yi+s'3+y»+y7)+y4+5Cy3+y4+y6)} . 


This  formnla,  called  Weddle's  Enle,  gives  the  closest  approximatioo 
to  the  curvilinear  area  that  can  be  obtained  x 

by  any  simple  rule. 

Wo  are  now  in  a  position  to  find  the 
approximate  area  of  any  irregular  plane 
figure.  For  the  given  figure  can  bo 
divided  into  plane  rectilinear  and  cur- 
vilinear figures,  the  areas  of  which  can 
be  separately  determined  by  the  rules 
already    given.      For   example,   APQBS 


=  ABC -f  APD  +  BEG  -  DQB  -  ASC . 


Fig.  38. 


PAET  II.  SOLIDS. 
Section  I.  Solids  contained  by  Planes. 
A.  Priims,  Pyramids,  and  Pristnatoids. 
§  6C.   Volume  of  a  Rigid  Prism.  —First  let  the  prism  be  a  rect- 
angular parallelepiped  (fig.  39),  and  _ 
let  the  side   AB  contain  a  units  of 
length,  BC  b  units  of  length,  and 
CD  0  units  of  length.     If  we  divide 
AB  into  a  equal  parts,  BC  into  6 
equal  parts,  and  CD  into  c  .equal 
parts,  and  if,  through  the  points  of 
division  we  draw  planes  parallel  to 
the  sides  of  the  parallelepiped,  these 
planes  will   divide   it  into  a  series 
of  parallelepipeds,  whose  edges  are 
each  equal  to  the  unit  of  length. 
Each   horizontal  layer  contains  ab 
of  these  cubes,  and  since  there  are  c 
layers  the  whole  number  of  cubes 
will  be  ahc.     But  each  of  these  is  the  unit  of  volume,  and  therefo* 
volume  of  AECD = a6c = a5  X  c  =  area  of  base  ABC  x  altitude  c    ^ 
In  the  above  demonstration  we  have   assumed  the   edges   to  be 
commensurable,  but  from  §  2  it  follows  that  the  proof  will  hold 
also  when  the  edges  are '  incommensurable.     It  the  parallelepiped 
be  cut  by  a  plane  BGE  it  will  be  divided  into  two  equal  triangular 
right  prisms,  and  hence 

volumeof  righttriangularpnsm-  4(zi  x  <;=areaof  its  base  x  altitude.  1 
Since  every  prism  can  be  divided  into  triangular  prisms  as  in  fig.: 
40,  we  have  at  once 

volume  of  right  prism  A'ABCDE=A'ABC-4- A'ACD-^A'ADE 
=  ABC  X  BB' -I- ACD  X  CC -H  ADE  X  DD' 
=  (ABC-^  ACD-1- ADE)  x  altitude 

(since  BB'=CC'=DD'  =  altitude) 
-area  of  base  ABODE  x  altitude. 


Fig.  39. 


Fig.  40. 

§  67.  Volume  of  an  Oblique  /Vtjm.— Draw  the  right  section 
a"B"C"D"E"  (fig.  41),  and  let  A'  denote  its  area  and  A  the  area  of 
the  base  A'B'C'JJ'E'.  Let  t  denote  the  length  of  the  prism,  h  its 
altitude,  and  a  the  angle  between  the  planes  A'B'C'D'E'  and 
A"B"0"D"E".  _  i 

Conceive  the  part  above  the  right  section  placed  at  the  other 
extremity  of  the  prism.  Then  we  have  a  right  ;'rism,  whoss 
volume-A'x/ (§  66);  butA'=Aco3  o,  since  A*^ is  the  projection) 
of  A  (§  61), 
and  I— ;  hence 


h    . 

cosa  ' 


vol«me'=A'xi«"Acosax — AxA  ; 

or  the  volume  of  any  prism  is  equal  to  the  area  of  its  base  militi* 
plied  by  its  altitude. 


MENSURATION 


23 


g  48.  Surfact  of  a  Prism, — Since  the  lines  A"B",  E"C'',  tc.  (fij». 
f41)i  which  make  up  the  perimeter  of  the  right  section  are  all  n\ 
one  plane  perpendicular  to  the  parallel  edges  A' A'",  B'B'",  He,  they 
•  re  perpendicular  to  these  edges  and  are  therefore  the  altitudes  of 
the  parallelograms  A'B'B'"A,  B'CC"'B"',  Uc,  respectively.  The 
lateral  surface  of  the  prism  is  equal  to  the  sum  of  these  parallclo- 
gnuus,  and  therefore 

-A'A"'xA"B"  +  B'B'xB"C"+ 

-A'A"'(A"B'  +  B"C"+ ),     - 

«inco  A'A'"=B'B"'-ic.; 

or  the  lateral  surface  of  any  prism  is  equal  to  the  perimeter  oi  j'a 

right  section  multiplied  by  the  length  of  the  prism. 

If  the  prism  be  i-ight,  that  is,  if  the  faces  be  perpcndicnler  to  tt' 
base,  then  its  lateral  surface  is  equal  to  the  perimeter  of  its  bai  i 
multiplied  by  its  length. 

The  whole  surface  of  any  prism  is  obtained  by  adding  to  th; 
lateral  surface  the  areas  of  its  bases. 

§  G9.  If  the  prism  be  regular,  that  is,  if  tho  bases  bo  regular 
polygons,  then 

area  of  base-o'x  Acot-5!i- (§  18,  y)    where  n  is  the  nnmber 

of  sides  each  of  length  a,  and  therefore  . 


volume  = 


,.180° 


xft, 


where  h  is  the  altitude  of  the  prism. 
Again,  if  tlie  prism  be  right  and  regular,  then 

its  lateral  surface = nah  +  2a'  x  —  cot . 

§  70.   Voluine  of  a  Pyramid. —Let  TABC  (fig.  42)  be  for  sim- 

Elicity  a  triangular  pyramid.     Divide  VA  into  n  equal  portions,  and 
brough  the   points  of  section   draw 
filancs  parallel  to  the  base  ABC,  and 
hrough  BC   and   through   the   inter- 
•ections  of  these  planes  with  VBC  draw 

S lanes  parallel  to  VA.  Let  k  denote 
le  altitude  of  the  pyramid,  then  the 
distance  of  the  base  of  the  r"*  prism 
trom  the  vertex  Y 

A 
-rx — , 

and,  if  A  denote  the  area  of  ABC,  we  jC 
have 
base  of  r"*  prism     r'A'      1      r" 


A»      n" 


Fig.  42. 


■nee,  by  a  well-known  theorem  in  solid 
geometry,  the  areas  of  sections  of  a  pyramid  made  by  planes  parallel 
u  the  base  are  proportional  to  the  squares  of  their  altitudes. 
Thus  we  have 

base  of  r"*  prism  «<—^  A,  and  therefore 


(§  67) 


TherefoiB  volnme  of  whole  pyramid 


-aaL„ 


n(n  +  l)(27t  +  l)     ^^, 
0  6n^  ~ 


i; 


er  the  volume  of  any  pyramid  is  equal  to  one-third  of  the  area  of  its 
base  multiplied  by  its  height. 

From  this  we  see  that  pyramids  on  equal  bases  are  to  one  another 
as  their  altitudes. 

If  the  pyramid  bo  regular,  that  is,  if  its  base  be  a  regular  polygon 
the  perpendicular  through  whose  centre  passes  through  the  vertex, 

its  volume  =  J x o' x -2.cot xh 

4  n 

%1\.-  Surface  of  a  R'.giilar  Pyramid. — The  lateral  surface  of  the 
regular  pyramid  VABCDEF  (fig.  43)  is  equal  to  the  sum  of  the  areas 
of  the  n  congruent  triangles  which  make  up  the  lateral  surface  of 
the  pyramid. 

Now  area  of  triangle  VAJS^JAB  x  TO;  hence  whole  lateral  sur- 
face—JnABVG— InoJ,  where  I  is  the  slant  height  and  a  the  length 
ef  the  side  of  the  base. 

Again,  if  VO  — A = altitude  of  pyramid,  we  have 


theiefore  whole  surface^oaso+latersl  surface 

=«»  X  -fcotl^V  4««  yA'-^^cot»^ 


Fig.  43. 

§  72.  The  Prismaloid. — If  we  have  a  polyhedron  whose  oases  are' 
two  polygons  in  parallel  planes,  the  number  of  sides  in  each  being! 
the  same  or  diflerent,  and  if  we  so  join  the  vertices  of  these  bases' 
that  each  line  in 
order  forms  atrianglo 
with  the  preceding 
lino  and  one  side  of 
either  base,  the  figure 
GO  formed  is  c^ed 
a  "prismatoid,"  and 
holds  in  stereometry 
a  position  similar  to 
that  of  the  trapezium 
in  planimetry.  To 
make  the  investiga- 
tion of  the  volume 
of  the  prismatoid  as 
simple  as  possible, 
wo  take  the  case 
where  the  lower  base 
is  a  polygon  of  four 
and  the  upper  one  oi 
three  sides. 

Let  ABCDEFG 
(fig.  44)  be  the  pris- 
matoid, of  which 
ABC  or  A,  is  the 
upper  and  DEFG  or 
A5  the  lower  base, 
and  let  HLM  be  the  Fig-  ^*- 

section  equidistant  from  the  bases.  Take  any  point  P  in  this 
section  and  join  it  to  the  corners  of  the  prismatoid.  We  thus 
divide  the  polyhedron  into  two  pyramids  PABC  and  PDEFO,! 
and  a  series  of  polyhedra  of  which  CPDE  may  be  taken  as  a 
specimen. 

Let  A  be  the  altitude  of  the  prismatoid,  then  {h  isthealtitnosof 
each  of  the  pyramids  PABC,  PDEFG,  and  hence 
volume  pf  PABC    =JAA,,  and 
volume  of  PDEFG =JA  A3 

Again  join  PH,  PL,  and  LD,  then 

volume  of  CPDE  =  2  volume  of  CPDL, 

since  DE=2HL, 

and  volume  of  CPDL =2  volume  of  CPHL, 

hence  volume  of  CPDE=4  volume  of  CPHL. 

Now  volume  of  CPHL  =  JA  x  area  of  HLP,  and  therefore  volnmo 
of  CPDE-JA  X  area  of  HLP. 

Similarly  the  volume  of  every  such  polyhedron  is  JA  x  the  area 
of  its  on-n  porlion  of  the  middle  section.  Hence  if  A^  denote  tha 
area  of  the  middle  section  we  hare 

volume  of  prismatoid  =  JAA,  +  J AAj + JAA, 
-iA(A,  +  4A,-KA3), 

§  73.  Volume  of  the  Frustum  of  a  Pyramid.— l^t  A'A'"B'B"'(3'C"'j 
(fig.  45)  be  a  frustum  of  the  pyramid  VATB'C,  and  let  A,  and  A,' 
denote  the  areas  of  the  ends  A'B'C,  A"'B"'C"  respectively.  Let 
VP  -  a; = altitude  of  pyramid  VA"T3"'C"',  and  let  PQ  -  A  -  altitude  ofl 
ftnstnm. 

N"'  (sTa)'-^'  whence x-^*'^^^. 


2i 


t«[:e_^n:s_u  R  a  t  i  o  n 


(Again  frustum-  VA'B'C  -  VA"'B"'C" 


ftVA, 


VA,  -  VA; 


0} 


<VAi-VA 
_^        /-JMA.  +  VAiAj  +  Aj); 
pTonnnls  which  applies  to  the  frusta  of  all  pyramids  regular  and 
irregnlar.  _   ^ 

The  ahove  result  may  be  otherwise  expressed.  For,  let  A'B  —  O] 
and  A"'B"'-a3,  then,  if  A"B"C"  be  a  section  equidistant  from  the 
tends  of  the  frustum,  A"B"  =  Oj  =  ^(aj  +  aj). 

Now  Aj=jmJ  and  A^=pal  (see  §  70) ; 
Jience  As=areaof  A"B"C"=pa5=^[  2li^  J ,  which  gives 

4A5  =pa]  +  2pa^a^  +pal  =  Aj  +  2VA1A3  +  A3 ; 
^erefore  volume  of  frustum 

^  -iA(2Ai  +  2VA7Aa  +  2A3)  =  j;j(Ai  +  4As,  +  A3);  ^ 
jbr  the  volume  of  the  frustum  of  a  pyramid  is  obtained  by  adding 
fthe  areas  of  the  ends  to  four 
kimes  the  area  of  the  middle 
Isection,  and  multiplying  the 
»um  by  one-sixth  of  the  alti-. 
Itade. 

The  above  result  can  be  oh-' 
[tained  at  once  from  §  72,  since 
|A'B'CA"'B"'C"'  is  a  prismatoid 
iwith  similar  bases. 

§  74.  Surface  0/ the  Frustum 
^f  a  Regular  Pyramid. — In  fig. 
&6  let  the  perimeter  of  A,  =Pi, 
^hat  of  A^—Pi,  and  that  of 
Xb-t-'Pi,  ^^^  1^'  ^^'  =  ^1 
fVD"'■=^J,  and  therefore  DD"'= 
!VD'  -  VD"'  =  i,  -  ^3  =  Z.     The  ^     ^r,\ 

lateral  surface  of  the  frustum  la  o  \ 

tqual  to  the  diflFerence  between  the  lateral  surfaces  of  the  pyramids 
IVA'B'C'  and  VA"'B"'C"', 

bSt,  sinc7iL  =  f!l_^-  =  Pl,  wehaveZ,=-2i^and  Jj— ^s^  . 

l^        03       Mtj      p^'  Pi-i>,  ",?!-?« 

[therefore  lateral  surface  of  frustum 

Er  the  lateral  surface  of  the  frustum  of  a  regular  pyramid  is  equal 
to  the  product  of  the  slant  height  and  the  perimeter  of  the  section 
jequidistant  from  the  ends. 

Otherwise.  — The  top  and  base  being  regular  polygons,  the  inclined 
?aces  are  congruent  trapeziums.  Let  I  be  the  height  of  each 
{trapezium,  and  let  there  be  n  of  them,  then 


§  77.  If  the  prism  be  right  or'ablique,  the  vftluine'of  a  frustum  ii| 
equal  to  one-third  of  the  area  of  its  right  section  multiplied  by  thai 
sum  of  the  parallel  edges.  For  divide  tho  frustum  aA'B'C  (Sg.l 
47)  into  two  frusta  by  a  plane  A"B"C"  of  area  A  at  right  angles^ 
to  the  edges,  then 

AA'B'C  -  AA"B"C "  +  A"A'B'C 
-  }  A( AA"  -t-  BB"  -f  CC")  -h  JA  (A' A"  -H  B'B"  +  CC") , 
= J  A(AA"  -H  BB"  -H  CC"  -I-  A''A"  -H  B'B"  +  GG')f 
'■=iA(AA'  +  BB'-HCC). 
Again,  since  every  prism  can  be  divided  into  triangular  prisms, , 
we  can  find  by  repeated  applications  of  the  above  proposition  the 
volume  of  the  frustum  of  any  prism  whatever.  _  For  example,  if 


area  of  eacn  face  = 


2\n      «/• 
fend  therefore  the  area  of  lateral  surface  =  -5-  (ft + Pa)  =  ?Pj  ■ 


.B' 


•:. — -iCF 


t' 


•  §  76.  If  h,  the  altitude  of  the  frustum  be  given,  we  deduce  the 
giant  height  and  then  proceed  as  before.  Thus  bt  VP—Aj, 
^Q=Ai,  and  using  the  same  notation  as  in  §|  72,  73,  and  74  we 
Ihave  - 

^-*l_ S—,  whichgive3A,=<5l&-^L-2!^  .-, 

ligkiil*       ^;=A;-^ia;cot^  — .ai>d;=('5l^l2a')z,; 

■n  \     "1    / 

(whence  I  is  known  since  ij  is  known  in  terms  of  h. 

When  the  pyramid  is  irregu- 
lar the  lateral  planes  are  non- 
fcongruent  trapeziums,  the  areas  of 
which  can  be  found  separately  by 
1 12,  and  hence  the  whole  surface. 

§  76.  Folume  of  the  Frustum  of 
b  Triangular  Prism. — Let  A  denote 
|the  area  of  ABC  (fig.  46),  and  let 
lAi,  ^,  A3  be  the  altitudes  of  A', 
IB ,  C  respectively  with  reference  to 
[the  plane  ABC.  Divide  the  frustum 
into  three  pyramids  B'A'AC,  B'ABO, 
land  B'A'CO'  by  the  planes  B'AC 
knd  B'A'O.    These   three  pyramids 


are   respectively    equal    to   BA'AC, 

B'ABC,  and  ABCC; 

hence  volume  cl frustum -iAiA  +  Sft,A  +  Jft^A 

-^A(A.4.A..^^.  . 


Fig.  46. 


Fig.  47.  Fig.  48.  

the  base  of  the  frustum 'of  "alright  prism  AA'B'CD'  (fig.  48? 
be  a  rectangle  12  feet  by  6  feet,  and  the  parallel  edges  in  ordtfl 
6,  4,  10,  and  12  feet,  then 

A  —  area  of  base  =  12  x  6  >=  72  square  feet 
Frnstnm  -  ABC  A'B'C  +  ADCAD'C 

-  S  X  i A(AA'  +  BB'  +  CC)  -(■  5  X  J A(A A'  +  CC  +  DD") . 

-  i  A  (2  AA' -1- 2CC' -^  BB' -I- DD')  =  676. 
§    78.     Volume     of    a 

JVedge.—The  wedge  (fig. 
49)     being     merely    the 
frustum   of  a   triangular 
prism,  we  have  at  once 
volume  — iA(FE 
-hAD-l-BC), 
wnere  A  is  the  area  of  its 
right  section  ;  otherwise, 
the  .wedge   may  be   con- 
sidered     a      prismatoid  pj     ^j_ 
whose    upper    base   b  a  . 
straight  line,  and  hence  its  volume  =  iA(4A3-)-A3),  since  Ai=0. 

B.  Regular  Polyhedra.  ^ 

§  79.  The  regular  polyhedra  are  five  in  number,"  namely,  th^ 
ielrahedron,  cube,  octahedron,  dodecahedron,  and  icosahtdron,  whose 
solid  angles  are  formed  respectively  by  three  equilateral  triangles, 
three  squares,  four  equilateral  triangles,  three  pentagons,  and  fivs 
equilateral  triangles. 

Since  a  regular  polyhedron  admits  of  having  a  sphere  inscribed] 
within  it  and  described  about  it,  it  can  easily  be  shown  that  the, 
volume  of  the  polyhedron 


and  from  §  18,  7,  it  follows  that  the  surface  of  the  polyhedron^ 


where  7~the  number  effaces, '  

m  —  tho  number  of  faces  in  each  solid  angle; 
7i-=the  number  of  ctlges  in  each  face, 
and  a  =  the  length  of  each  side. 

The  following  table  contains  the  surfaces  and  volumes  for  tli^ 
five  regular  polyhedra  whose  edge  is  1. 


Polyhedron. 

Snrjacc. 

Volumo. 

I  -TS-.TOOS 
<1-0000000 
n'464I0I(! 
!1«4f.7788 
80002540 

01178511 
l-OOOOOOO 
0-4714(143 
7-6631185 
31816950 

MENSURATION 


25 


frhe^  surface  and  volume  of  a  regular  polyhedron  whose  edge  is 
U  is  obtained  by  multiplying  the  surface  and  volume  of  a  similar 
feolyhedron  whose  edge  is  1  by  0=  and  a'  respectively. 

1  Section  II.  Solids  contained  hy  Surfaces  ivsion  aee  not 

ALL  Planes. 

A.   The  Cylinder. 

S  80.   Volume  0/  a  C<jlindcr  (fig.  50).— Inscribe  in  the  cylinder  a 

polyonal  prism  of  which  the  number  of  sides  may  be  increased 

uidefinitely.     Then  in  the  limit  the  base  pf  the  prism  becomes  the 

b.iso  of  the  cylinder,  and  the  volume  of  the  prism  the  volume  of 

the  cylinder.     Now  by  §  C7  we  have 

volume  of  prism     =  area  of  base  x  altitude ; 
hence         volume  of  cylinder = area  of  base  x  altitude. 

§  81.  Surfaec  of  a  Eight  Cylinder. — As  above,  in  the  limit  the 
bnse  of  the  prism  becomes  the  base  of  the  cylinder,  and  the  surface 
of  the  prism  the  surface  of  the  cylinder.  Now  the  lateral  suiiace 
of  prism 

=  perimeter  of  right  section  x  length 

~  perimeter  of  base  x  length,  in  the  case  cf  a  right  prism  (§  68); 
hence  lateral  surface  of  right  cylinder -circumference  of  base 
X  length. 

V 


Fig.  50.  Fig.  51. 

B.  The  Coiie. 

%  82.  Volume  of  a  Cone  (fig.  51). — Inscribe  within  the  cone  a 
pyramid  of  which  the  number  of  sides  may  be  indefinitely  in- 
cri'ased,  then  in  the  limit  the  base  of  the  pyramid  becomes  the  base 
of  the  oone  and  the  volume  of  the  pyrj.raid  the  volume  of  the  cone. 
By  §  70  volume  of  pjTamiJ  —  i  base  x  altitude, 

and  hence  volume  of  cone  —  3  base  x  altitude. 

§  83.  Vohmc  of  the  Frxislum  of  a  Cone.— From  §  73,  we  find  that 
the  volume  of  the  frustum  of  a  pyramid 

=  JA(Ai  +  VA;A;  +  A3y; 
hence,  since  in  the  limit  the  frustum  of  the  pyramid  becomes  the 
frustum  of  the  coue,  we  have 

volume  of  conical  frustum  =  5^  ( A,  +  VAjAj  +  A3) , 
wliere  A,  and  A3  are  the  areas  of  the  terminating  planes  of  the 
frustum. 

Lot  the  terminating  planes  be  circles  of  raOii  r^  and  r^,  then 
volume  of  fmstum 

=  JA  (irrj  +  irrir, +  «■•)  =  JirA (rj  +  rir3+ rf) . 
Again,  by  the  same  section  we  have 

volume  of  frustum  of  pyramid=JA(A,  +  4A2  +  A3), 
therefore  volume  of  conical  frustum  =  -Jrfi  (rj  +  4r^  +  rj) , 

where  r.  is  the  radius  of  the  circular  section  parallel  to  the  ter- 
minating planes  and  equidistant  from  them. 

§  84.  Surfaee  of  a  Right  Cone. — Thrf  lateral  surface  of  a  regular 
pyiamid  is  by  §  71 

=  J  perimeter  of  base  x  slant  height ; 
hence,  since  in  the  limit  the  surface  of  the  pyramid  becomes  the  sur- 
face of  the  cone,  tlie  lateral  surface  of  a  right  cone  is  equal  to  half 
the  circumference  of  its  base  multiplied  by  the  slant  height. 

Thus  the  lateral  surface  of  a  right  cone  of  slant  height  I  and  the 
radius  of  whose  base  is  r  is  equal  to 

4x27rrxZ  =  7rrZ, 
and  whole  surface  =  lateral  surface  -f  area  of  base 

~  iTT^  +  irr- 
=.nr{l-\-r). 
Again,  if  A,  the  altitude  of  the  cone,  ne  given,  wo  have 

and  therefore      whole  surfacc=-7rr(VA'  +  r--Hr). 

§85.  Surf  ace  of '.Iv,  Frustum  of  n.  Eight  Cone. — The  hteral  surface 
of  the  frustum  of  a  regular  pyramid  is  eaual  to  the  product  of  the 
alant  height  and  the  perimeter  of  its  middle  section  (§  74) ;  hence 


in  the  limit  wo  find  that  tlie  lateral  surface  of  (he  frustum  of  a 
right  cone  is  equal  to  the  prodtict  of  its  slant  hci;;lit  and  the  cir- 
cumference of  the  section  equidistant  from  its  parallel  f.iccs. 

Lot  T-j  and  r,  denote  the  nidii  of  the  ends  of  tUo  frustum,  and  I 
the  length  of  the  slant  height,  then 

'■3  ■=  i(''i  +  ^i)  =  radius  of  middle  section, 
and  therefore 

lateral  surface  — 2irr3  x  !  =  27r  x  J(r,-H'3)  x  Z  —  irJ(r,-t-rj) , 
and  whole  surface  =  Trr ;  +  T?(r,  +  r^  +  irr] . 

If  A,  the  altitude  of  the  frustum,  be  given,  we  have 
Z=.V/i=-Kr,-r,)i. 

C.  Tlie  Sphere. 

§  86.  Surfaee  of  a  Spherical 
Zone.— Let  AB  ("fig.  52)  bo  a 
small  arc  of  tlie  sphere,  and 
let  AA',  BB'  be  perpendicular 
to  the  axis  XX',  to  find  the 
surface  of  the  zone  generated 
by  the  arc  AB.  Join  AB,  and 
draw  OP  perpendicular  to  AB,  _^| 
BD  par.alh-1  to  XX',  and  PP'  •'^| 
parallel  to  AA'  or  BB'.  The 
chord  AB  generates  the  frustum 
of  a  cone,  whose  lateral  surface 
-2tPP'xAB. 

But,  since  the  triangles  ABD 
and  OPP'  are  similar, 
AB^OP 
BD    PP' ' 

therefore     area  of  conical  frustum  -  2n-.  OP.  BD  =  2ir.  OP.  A'B'. 
Similarly    the  area  of  the  frustum  generated  by  BC  =  2:r.0Q.B'C'. 

But  in  the  limit  when  the  chords  AB,  BC,  &c. ,  are  indefinitely 
diminished,  the  perpendiculars  OP,  OQ,  &c.,  become  each  =  r,  and 
hence  by  summing  all  the  areas  we  get  in  the  limit 

area  of  zone  — 2irr  x  (projection  of  arc  on  axis  of  revolution). 
Hence  the  convex  surface  of  a  sefxmont  of  a  sphere  is  equal  to  the 
circumference  of  a  great  circle  multiplied  by  the  height  of  tho  seg- 
ment or  zone. 

g  87.  Surface  of  a  Splim. — Tho  whole  sphere  being  a  zone 
whose  height  is  2r,  wo  obtain  at  once 

surface  of  sphere  —  2irr  x  2r=»  4Trr^ ; 
or  the  surface  of  a  sphere  is  equal  to  four  great  circles. 

The  total  surface  of  tho  cylinder  circumscribing  tlie  sphere  of 
radius  r  is  Gn-r",  hence  the  surface  cf  the  sphere  —  §  surface  of  cir- 
cumscribing cylinder. 

§  83.  Surfaec  of  a  Lur^e,  a  Spherical  Triangle^  and  a  Sphericdt 
Polygon. — It  is  siiowii  in  spherical  trigonometry  that 

(a)  the  area  of  a  lune  included  between  two  great  circles  of  A 
sphere  of  radius  r,  and  whoso  inclinatiou  is  0  radians,  is 
2fl;~; 

{ff)  the  area  of  a  spherical  triangle  whoso  angles  are  A,  B,  C  is 
(A-l-B  +  C--ir)r=j 

(7)  the  area  of  a  spherical  polygon  of  r  sides  is 

{P-()--2)ir}r',  where  P  is  the  sum  of  its  angles. 

§  89.  Measurement  of  Solid  Angles. — X  convenient  unit  for  tho 
measurement  of  plane  angles  is  llie  "I'adian."  If  wo  assume  that 
each  unit  of  surface  of  a  sjihcre  subtends  the  same  solid  angle  at  the 
centre,  we  can  deduce  a  very  convenient  unit  for  the  measurement 
of  solid  angles.  This  unit,  which  has  received  the  name  "  stera- 
dian,"  we  define  to  be  the  solid  angle  subtended  at  the  centre  of  a 
sphere  by  a  portion  of  the  surface  whoso  area  is  r-. 

§  90.  Number  of  Stcradians  in  an  Angle. — Let  A  be  the  angle  at 
the  centre  of  a  sphere,  and  let  S  bo  the  portion  of  the  surface  of  the 
sphere  which  it  intercepts,  then 

number  of  stcradians  in  A      S_ 

For  example,   if  A  be  a  plane   solid    angle,   S  =  a   hemisphere 
-2irr=;   hence  the  number  of  s'eradiatis 
in  a  plane  solid  angle  — — -=-^^-:^  =  2r, 

and  therefore  the  number  of  steradians  in  . 
the  solid  angle  at  a  point  -  47r.  This  solid  ^ 
angle  is  sometimes  called  a  steregon. 

Hence,  if  wo  can  find  the  .surface  sub- 
tended by  any  solid  angle,  we  can  always 
find  its  magnitude  in  terms  of  the  unit 
solid  angle. 

§  91.    Volume  of  a  Sphere.— Ut  ABC  ^ 
(fig.  53)  be  the  quadrant  of  a  circle,  draw  DB  and  T)C  tangents  to 
it    then,  if  AD  be  joiiied  and  the  whole  figure   bo  conceived  U 
XVL  —  4 


26 


MENSURATION 


(rotatint;  round  AB,  ACD,  ABC.  an-l  ABDC  will  generate  i;conc, 
I  ft  llcmi^pIle^e,  and  a  cyliudcr  ivspcctivcly. 

Now  diMW  two  paiallc".  planes  EFGH  and  E'F'G  H'  very  near  each 
lothir  and  perpendicular  to  AB,  an''  draw  FF  and  GG'  parallel  to 
AR,  tlien,  by  §  SO, 

volume  generated  by  EHH'E  =iri!.H'  x  EE', 
„  „  EGG'E'  =irEG=  x  EE', 

,1  „  EFF'E'  -jrEF=  x2E'. 

Thus  volume  generated  by  EFF'E' +  volume  generated  by  EGG'E' 
=  t{EF=  +  EG-)  X  EE'  =  -^rCEA^  +  EG=)  x  EE' 
=  ,r(AG=)xEE'  =  7rEH"-xEE' 
=  volumc  generated  by  EHH'E'. 
Therefore  in  the  limit,  when  the  number  of  slices  is  indefinitely  in- 
creased, and  their  thickness  indeQnitely  diminished,  we  have  volume 
of  cone  generated  by  AF  +  volume  of  spherical  zone  generated  by  CG 
-  volume  of  cylinder  generated  by  CH. 
Let  r  =  radius  of  sphere,  /;  =  AE  =  height  of  zone  ACGE,  then 
volume  of  cone  =  ^irh-  x  A  =  ^nh^,  and 
volume  of  cylinder  =  7rr-  x  h, 
therefore  volume  of  spherical  zone  =  wrh  -  Jj-A' 

=  4^71(3^=-^. 
The  height  of  a  hemisphere  is  r, 
therefore     volume  of  hemisphere  =  ^ttt  (3r'  -  r^)  =.  |7rr'  , 
»nd  volume  of  whole  sphere  —  ^Trr'  , 

a  result  readily  obtainable  by  the  infinitesimal  Calculus,  or  by 
inscribing  w-ithiu  the  spliere  a  series  of  triangular  pyramids  whose 
.vertices  all  meet  at  the  centre  of  the  sphere,  and  the  angles  of  whost 
'bases  all  rest  on  the  surface.  In  the  limit  the  altitude  of  each 
pyramid  becomes  the  radius  of  the  sphere,  and  the  sum  of  the  bases 
of  the  pyramids  the  surface  of  the  sphere  ;  hence 

volume  =  IS  X  r  -  J  X  47rr=  x  r=  fxr'  . 
The  volume  of  the  circumscribing  cylinder  =  «-=x2r  =  2irr', 
therefore  volume  of  sphere  - 1  volume  of  circumscribing  cylinder. 

§  92.  Let  S  denote  the  surface  of  a  sphere  and  V  its  volume,  then 
from  §5  87  and  91  we  have 


(a)7- 


Vs 


-'yf.x^^^ 


2V' 
(j3lS  =  Vr(0V)=; 

formula  which  give  the  radius  in  terms  of  the  surface  or  volume,  the 
surface  in  terms  of  the  volume,  and  the  volume  in  terms  of  the 
surface. 

§  93.   Voluinc  of  a  Spherical  Shell. — Let  r  and  r,  denote  the  radii 
of  the  two  spheres,  then 

volume  of  shell  •=  V = JirrJ  -  Jirr' 

=  in-(r,-r)(r;-(-rir+r=) 
Now  letr, -r=A',  then 

V-J«-;7i('l+il  +  4) 

If  h  be  small  compared  with  rj,  tnen  r/rj  is  very  nearly  equal  to  1, 
and  we  have  approximately 

V  =  Jirr;/t(l  +  H-l)  =  47rr;7i. 
Again,  if  A  he  nearly  equal  to  r,,  r  is  very  small,  and  rjri  is  also  very 
small,  so  that  we  have  approximately 

S4)  be  a 


§  94.   Voluvic  of  a  Spherical  Segment. — Let  CEC 
Bection  of  a  spherical  segment  whose 
altitude    RQ   is  p,  then,  if  0Q  =  /(, 
volume  of  segment  CRC'  =  volume  of 
hemisphere  -  volume  of  zone  AA'C'C 

^lnr'-Uh{S'-'-h^,%9\.  g 

-Jjr?)=(3r-;)). 
If  wo  put;;"2>',  we  obtain  as  before 
volume  of  sphere  ■=  ^ttt'  . 
Again  if  CQ  =  n ,  wo  have 

CQ-  =  o;-RQ.E'Q-j)(2r-i)), 


R    U 


whence  r=.^— ?^  , 
2p 


Fig.  54 


therefore  relume  of  segment— iirp  (SnJ  +;)'). 

8  96.  Volume  of  a  Spherical  Frustum.— \Yiu:n  one  of  the  termi- 


nating planes  pisses  throudi  the  centre  we  have  already  foun4 
that  the  volume 

=  Jji-;((r=-A=), 
where  h  is  its  altitude.  ., 

Now  suppose  that  neither  of  the  terminating  pianos  passes  through 
the  centre ;  for  exnmi)le,  to  find  -''  ■>  volume  of  the  frustum  BB'CCl 
Let  UQ  =  p  and  Kl*  =  y,  then 

Bb'C'C  =  segmcut  RBB'- segment  RCff 
=  irql,3al+q--j-hV>(.3l\+!r), 
where  o,  and  a»  arc  tlie  radii  of  the  ends  C"C'  and  BB'. 

Let  q-p=h= height  jf  frustum,  and,  since,  from  the  geometry  <A 
the  figure, 

a'+p-    n:-t-i?- 
2>  9 

we  have  volume=  J7r/i.{3(a;  +  a|)  + A-}, 

a  result  which  may  also  be  obLained  by  considering  BB'CC  as  th* 
difference  of  tho  iwo  zodes  AA'C'C  and  AA'B'B 

D.  Sjihcroid. 
§  96.  Surf  act  of  a  Prolate  Spheroid.— the  prolate  spheroid  is  thtf 
solid  generated  by  the  revolution  of  an  ellipse  about  its  major  axiaj 
If  S  be  the  surface  generated  by  an  arc  of  the  curve,  then 

S=27r/j/  k/'^  +  ('^\^Xi  taken  between  proper  limits. 


=  2r. 


In  the  case  before  us 


=  2iri-  +  2?r- 


where  c  is  the  eccentricity  (Infinitesimal  CALcnms,  art  179). 

§  97.  Surface  of  an  Oblate  Spheroid.— The  oblate  spheroid  is  th* 
solid  generated  by  the  revolution  of  an  ellipse  about  its  minor  axi» 
(fig-  55). 


Here  surface =2ira-  +  « 


-log,- 


(iNFlNlTEdlSIAL     CaLOULDS, 


art.  179). 
§  98.  Vohime  of  a  Spheroid. — We  have  volume  of  prolate  spheroid 

.similarly  vilume  of  oblate  SDheroid=iiro-6. 
Thus, 

volume  of  prolate  spheroia     JTrao'    _6_  . 
volume  of  oblate  spheroid      Jjrct-'fi      a 
sphere  described  on  major  axis     -Jira'     a*  . 

prolate  spheroid  ^-rrab'^    b^ 

sphere  described  on  minor  axis      JTrb"^      V^  ^ 
oblate  spheroid  ^nd-b    a? 

§99.    Volume  of  a  Segment  of  a  Sphcrow. 

(a)   Tlie  prolate  sphcroid.—Thh  segment  is  generated  by  tlift 
revolution  of  AMP  (tig.  23,  p.  20)  about  AM,  andlience 

its  volume  =  it/    y'dx = ir^  /  '(2«r  -  a:=)<fa = -^  x  — =-  (So  -  A),N 

where  A  is  the  origin  and  AM  =■  h. 

{$)  The  oblate  spheroid. — The  segment  in  this  case  is  penerateff 
by  the  revolution  of  BMP  (fig.  55)  ab-^ut  BC.  and  hence 

a'h'„ 


(t) 


/•A  ^2    /•li 

it3Volume  =  ir/     jz-ox-tttj- /     {2ox- 


f)dx^ 


b^ 


(36-/1), 


where  B  is  the  origin  and  BM  =  A. 

§  100.  Volume  of  the  Frustum  of  a 
Spheroid  when  one  of  the  Terminating 
Planes  passes  through  tlie  Centre. 

(a)  7'he  prolate  spheroid. — The  frustum 
in  this  case  is  generated  by  the  revolution 
of  BCMP  about  CM  (fig.  ^3). 

Now  volume  generated  by  BCMP 

—  volume  generated  by  BCA 

-  volimio  generated  by  PMA 

,     ,„     w     6-'A2 
-  Ixab-  -  y  X  -^(3a  -  A) 

=  JLx*I^'(3a=-i-=),  where 
i=CM=heightoffrustum  =  ii-A.  Fig.  65. 

(P)  The  oblate  sithcroid.—'Wo   can   show  in  a  similar   manner, 
that  the  volume  generated  in  this  cise 

-^x^"(34='-t=). 

The  above  formula;  may  bo  put  into  another  form.  Thus,  in  the 
case  of  the  prolate  spheroid,  since  the  point  P  lies  on  the  cllipsd 
fc-ar'+a-y^  —  rt'-t'-,  wo  have 

j?j(j  .    »■  1  _  (j-i^  ^  where  6,  -  PM ,  which  gives 


MENSUKATION 


27 


il^ence,  bf  sabstitntioD,  the  rolame  of  prolate  (rustom 

=  J»i(26':  +  6;). 
^jimilarl;  we  can  show  that  the  volume  of  the  oblcte  frustum 

where  a,  =■  I'M . 
Ilbtae  formolffi  plaj  an  important  part  in  the  gauging  of  casks.  - 

E.'  Paraboloid. 
5 101.  Surface  of  a  ParaboloyJ. — Let  the  cqnation  to  the  para- 
%obi  be  y'^iax,  and  let  the  coordinates  of  P  (fig.  21,  p.  19)  be  «„ 
!y„  then  the  surface  of  the  paraboloid  generated  by  the  reroJutiou 
vl  AM  about  AP 


§  102.   Folume  of  a  Paraboloid.— 'Viih  tBe  same  notation  wo 
have 

Tolame=ir/     y'dx^iTm/      xdx  —  J» x  iaxi  x x^  =iiryj  x a, ; 

or  the  volume  c  f  a  paraboloid  generated  by  the  revolution  of  a  part 
'cf  a  parabola  between  the  vertex  and  any  point  is  equal  to  half  the 
Volume  of  the  circumscribing  cylinder. 

I  §  103.  If  the  coordinates  of  Q  be  x^,  y^  then  the  volume  of  the 
frustum  PP'Q'Q 

-  Jir  {  yiSj  -  J/I^i }  =  2iro(a:5  -  xj )  =  ii(y;  +  y ;  )A  , 

ihere  ft-MN  ;  hence  the  vohime  of  the  frustum  of  a  paraboloid 
IS  equal  to  half  the  sum  of  the  areas  of  its  ends  multipued  by  its 
height 

F.  Ellipsoid, 
i  104.   Volwme  of  an  Ellipsoid. — The  equation  to  the  ellipsoid 
'Ming 

3?       ifi       ^ 

— +— +— — 1  ' 

^e  equation  to  the  elliptic  section  at  the  distance  z  from  the 
'origin  is 

Now  if. we  draw  an  indefinite  number  of  parallel  planes  per- 
pendicular to  the  axis  of  z,  each  slice  will  be  an  infinitely  thin 
cylindrical  plate,  and  accordingly  the  whole  volume  oX  ihe  eUipi>oia 

—Jkdz,  where  A  is  the  area  of  the  elliptio  section. 
butA-iroi^l-.£.V§61 

'therefore  volume  -  iroy    M__J(fe—firaie. 

The  sphere  being  an  ellipsoid  whose  axes  are  all  eqoal,  we  obtain 
u  before 

volume  of  sphere= Jira'=}»r'. 

G.  ffyperboloid. 
,- 1 105.   Pblwme  of  an  Hyperboloid. — The  hyperboloid  is  generated 
by  the  revolution  of  the  hyperbolic  segment  ANP  about  AN  (fig. 
U,  p.  20).     If  the  coordinates  of  P  be  x^,  y^  then 


'  volume  of  hyperboloid =iy      ydx—r^i  ^'(x'-o'jdr 
'(3o+A), 


V  I 


where  76-=  AN ^a-i -a.' 
Again,  since  z^  y^  is  on  the  curve,  we  have 

62 


o'y;-6»(o+A)'= -o'i',  which  gives- 
volume  of  hvDerboloid=^y!^  > 


Za  +  h 

2a  +  h  ' 


H.  Solids  to  which  the  "  Prismmdal  Formula  "  applies. 
_  §  106.  It  was  shown  in  §  72  that  thn  volumo  nf  any  polyhedron 
bounded  by  two  parallel  planes  and  by  plane  rectilinear  figures 

-i7i(Ai  +  4A,-l-A3), 
where  A„  A3,  ar.d  Aj  denote  respectively  the  areas  of  the  two  ends 
and  of  the  middle  section. 

I  We  now  proceed  to  show  that  the  same  formula  determines  the 
volames  of  all  solids  bounded  by  two  pirallel  planes,  provided  tho 
area  of  any  section  parallel  to  these  planes  can  be  expressed  as  a 
r\ional  integral  algebraic  function  of  the  third  degree  in  x,  where 
t  is  <;he  distance,  of  <he  section  from  either  flauu. 


Let  <p(.x)=A  +  Bx+C3?  +  Thi?+  ....  +Ka"  denote  the  area 
of  the  section  in  question.  J 

Now  the  solid  between  the  sections  ^(0)  and  <l>{i)  is  equal  to  the 
solid  between  the  sections  <f.(0)  and  4>(2)  plus  the  solid  between  th«, 
sections  0(2)  and  (p{i).  Hence  if  the  prismoidal  formula  is  to  hold! 
in  this  case,  we  have 

JA{«(O)+4#(2)  +  0(4)} 
=-hH<P{0)+i4>{l)  +  'p{2)}+-^h{<t,{2)  +  if{3)  +  it>Wii 
where  h  is  the  distance  between  the  sections  ^(0)  and  <pli)f'' 
Hence  we  have 

0(0)  -  40(1)  +  60(2)  -  40(3) + 0(4) =0. 
Now      0(0)= A 

— 40(1)=-4A-4B-4C-4D-4E-  .  .  .  .--4K 
^60(2)  =  6A  +  12B  +  2iC  +  48D  +  96E-r   ....    +6-2"K^ 
-40(3)-.-4A-12B-36C-lO8D-324E-   ....    -4-3"^ 
+   0(4)=A+4B  +  16C  +  64D  +  256E+  ....   +4"K.        " 

Therefore       0=0+0  +  0  +  0  +  24E+PF+  ....    +TK. 

Hence  E  =  F=  .  .  .  .  K  =  0,  and  therefore  0(«)  must  be  afnnc^ 
tion  of  the  third  degree  in  order  that  the  prismoidal  formula  uisy 
apply.  j 

§  107.  If  we  take  (p{x) = A  +  Bx + Ck" + Dx»,  there  will  be  as  many 
possible  varieties  as  there  are  combinations  of  four  things,  one,  twoj 
three,  apd  four  together,  i.e.,  2*- 1  =  15  varieties.  Corresponding 
to  each  of  these  there  will  be  ai  least  one  solid  the  area  of  a  section 
of  which  at  a  distance  x  from  one  of  the  parallel  planes  is 
0(x)=A  +  Ba:+Car'+Dii:^,  and  at  least  one  solid  of  revolution 
generated  by  the  curve  whose  equation  is  of  the  form  - 

«^=0(x)»A  +  Bx+Ca^+Dx». 
As  space  prevents  us  discussing  all  the  cases  that  may  arise,  ;va. 
content  ourselves  by  giving  three  examples  as  illustrations. 

(a)  Volume  of  an  ellipsoid. — Here  0(x)  =  Bx  +  Cx-. 

Let  2a,  2b,  and  2c  be  the  axes  of  wiiich  2a  is  the  greatest,  theni 
A«=2a,  Ai=0i,  A3=0,  and  A.=Trbc  ; 
therefore        volume = iA(A,  +  4Aj  +  A3) = la{iirbc) = f  iroJc ,  • 
which  agrees  with  the  result  in  §  104. 

(/9)  Vohcme  of  a  sphere. — Here  jr!/-=0{x)  =  Ba!+Cx'. 

Let  r  be  the  radius  of  the  sphere,  then  ft=2r,  A,=0,  A]— 0,  ao^ 
A,=jrr',  hence,  as  before  (§  91), 

volume  of  sphere  =  iA(Ai+4Aj+  A3)=^(4Tr')=|«J.'', 

(■y)  Volume  of  a  right  circular  cone. — Here  iri/'=0(x)  =  Cx'.^ 
Let  r=radius  of  base  and  h  the  altitude,  then  Aj  =  0,  A,"-«r*,' 
and  A3=ir(Jr)2 ;  hence  ~'' 

volume  of  cone  =  J7i  {Ai  +  4A3  +  A3  }=  Jft  {irT* + ipr"  }  =  JAw" 
In  a  similar  manner  we  can  determine  the  volumes  of  a  cylindeTy', 
a  prolate  spheroid,  an  oblate  spheroid,  &c. 
§  108.  In  general,  if  in  any  solid  we  have 
0(x)  =  A  +  Bx + Cx^ + Da» , 
where  A,  B,  C,  and  D  are  known  constants,  then,  if  A  be  the  IeDj;t]t 
of  the  solid, 

Ai-0(O)=A, 

A.  -  0(P) = A  +  B(4A)  +  C(iA)»  +  D(iA)» ,) 
A3=0(A)-A  +  BA  +  CA2  +  DA\ 
and  therefore 

volume  of  solid ■=}A(A,  +  4A,  +  A3) 

=  AA  +  4B  A-  +  JCA' + iDft* . 

I.  Solids  of  Revolution  in  General.' 
§  109.  Volume  of  any  Solid  of  Revolution. — Lei  P,P,  .  .  ','7  PiJ 
(fig.  84)  be  the  generating  curve,  and  A, .  .  .  .  A„  the  axis  of 
revolution.  Divide  the  curve  into  portions  in  the  points  P.,  Pj, 
&c.,  and  ditiw  the  chords  and  tangents  of  the  small  arcs  PiP), 
P3P3,  &c. ,  then  it  is  evident  that  the  solid  generated  by  the  curve 
is  greater  than  the  sum  of  the  conical  frusta  traced  out  by  the 
chords  and  less  than  the  sum  of  the  conical  frusta  traced  out  by  tho 
tangents.  Hence,  by  increasing  the  number  of  chords,  namely,  by 
increasing  the  points  of  division  of  the  curve,  we  can  make  the 
difference  between  these  sums  as  small  as  we  please,  and  therefore 
by  this  method  we  can  approximate  as  closely  as  we  please  to  the 
volume  of  the  solid  generated.  | 

Assuming  that  the  points  P,,  Pj,  P3  arc  so  near  each  other  that 
the  solid  generated  differs  little  from  the  fmstum  of  a  cone,  andl 
using  the  same  notation  as  in  §  63,  we  have  volume  generated  by 
P,PsPj=}7rA,A,(s;  +  4s!  +  s:)- Js2A,A,(«J  +  «J  +  »y 
-» Jiro(s;  +  45^+»j)  J 
similarly  the  volume  generated  by 

P3P4P5  =  Jira(s5  +  4«;  +  sj) ; 
whence  the  volume  generated  by  the  whole  curve  PiPj .  .  .  .  P«  ^^ 

-iia{»;+4+2(^+s:+  ....  +sii-8)+4(s;+«:+  . .  •  ■  +^-i)}», 


'28 


M  E  N  — M  E  N 


.  &c.) 


l—j^{cl+e^  +  2{cl  +  el+ +el.i)  +  4{cl  +  cl+ +cl.-i)}, 

[«  formula  more  convenient  m  practice,  as  it  is  sometimes  more  easy 
ito  measure  equidistant  circumferences  than  equidistant  radii. 


J.   TTieorcms  of  Pappus. 

§  110.  The  following  general  propositions  concerning  surfaces  and 
soUds  of  revolution,  usually  called  Guldiu's  theorems,  are  worth  the 
reader's  attention. 

If  any  plane  curve  revolve  about  any  e::temal  axis  situated  in  its 
plane,  then 

(a)  the  surface  of  the  solid  which  is  thereby  f^enerated  is  equal 
to  the  product  of  the  perimeter  of  the  revolving  curve  and  the 
'length  of  the  path  described  by  the  centre  of  gravity  of  that  peri- 
meter ; 

(/3)  the  volume  of  the  solid  is  equal  to  the  product  of  the  area  of 
the  revolvin;^  curve  and  the  length  of  the  path  described  by  the 
centre  of  gravity  of  the  revolving  area. 

We  content  ourselves  with  an  example  or  two  of  the  application 
of  these  theorems,  referring  to  the  article  Infinitesimal  Calculus 
for  the  proofs. 

Example  1. — To  find  the  surface  and  volume  of  a  circular  ring. — 
Let  a  be  the  distance  of  the  centre  of  the  generating  curve,  in  this 
case  a  circle,  from  the  axis  of  rotation,  and  r  the  radius  of  the 
circle,  then  ^ 

perimeter  of  generating  curve  =  2irr , 

area  of  generating  curve  =  irr^,  and 

path  described  by  the  centre  of  gravity  either  of  the  perimeter  oi* 
area  =  2Tra:  hence 

surface  of  ring  =  27rr  x  2jra  =  4jrra,  and 

volume  of  ring  =  Trr^  x  2»ra  =  27r7^a. 

Example  2. — To  find  the  volume  swept  out  by  an  ellipse  wnose 
Axes  are  2a  and  2i,  revolving  about  an  axis  in  its  own  plane  whose 
liistance  from  the  centre  of  the  ellipse  is  c. 

Here  area  of  generating  cui-ve  =7r«6, 
Uld  path  described  by  centre  of  gravity  Oi  area  —2tc  ;  hence 
volume  generated  =  7ra6  x  2TTC=2Trabc. 

ICxample  3. — A  circle  of  r  inches  radius,  with  an  inscribed  regular 
hexagon,  revolves  about  an  axis  a  inches  distant  from  its  centre,  and 
parallel  to  a  aide  of  the  hexagon  ;  to  find  the  diHerence  in  area  of 
the  generated  surfaces  and  volumes. 

Here  perimeter  of  circle  =■  Sttt  , 
and  perimeter  of  hexagon  =  12  xrsin  30"  (§  17) 

also  area  of  circle  =  irr^, 
and  area  of  hexagon  =  3r2sin60*'  (§  18,  $) 
«-|V3r2; 

hence  difference  of  surfaces  generated 

==  iirra  -  1 2iTar  =  iirar(Tr  -  3)  ; 
and  difference  of  volumes  generated 

=  2ir'j-a  -  37rr2v'3/i 

=  3rr^a(27r-3V3). 


I  PART  III.  GAUGING. 

5  111.  By  gauging  is  meant  the  art  of  measuring  the  volume  of  a 
cask,  or  any  portion  of  it.  The  subject  is  one  of  great  interest  and 
practical  importance,  but  space  will  only  permit  us  to  discuss  it  very 
1>riefly.  If  the  cask  whose  capacity  we  wish  to  determine  be  a  solid 
of  revolution,  then  its  volume  can  at  once  bo  computed,  either 
exactly  or  approximately,  by  the  methods  already  descrilied. 


It  is  usual  to  divide  casks  into  the  following  four  Classes  according! 
to  the  nature  of  the  revohing  curve  : —  -^ 

(a)  the  middle  frustum  of  a  spheroid  , 

(^)  the  middle  frustum  of  a  parabolic  spindle  ; 

(7)  two  equal  frusta  of  a  paraboloid,  united  at  their  bases  j' 

(5)  two  equal  frusta  of  a  cone,  united  at  their  bases. 
Casks  of  the  second,  third,  and  fourth  variety  are  rarely  met  withH 
in  practice,  and  we  shall  accordingly  confine  our  attention  to  th©! 
first  kind,  which  is  considered  the  true  or  model  form  of  cask.         4 

Let  ABCD  (fig.  5G)  be  a  section  of  the  cask,  and  assume  it  to  bo' 
the  middle  frustum  of  a  prolate  spheroid,  then 
its  volume  =  ^7r(2i-  +  6;)^ , 
where  A=OT,  h^=AX,  and  fc=X5'  {§  99). 

YY'  is  called  the  bung  diameter,  and   AB   or  CD  the  head] 
diameter. 

An  imperial  gallon  contains  277 '274  cnbic  inches,  and  tierefor© 
the  number  of  gallons  in  the  above  cask 

tr{2b"'  +  b])k 

"'3x277*274"831-822'' 


J2d^-\, 

V 1059-1  y 


2(252+6;)^ 

,  where  d  =  2h,  dj==2bi; 

-to  the  square  of  the  head  diametef 

_  diameter,  m 
;  by  ; 


whence  we  have  the  rule : 

add  twice  the  square  of  the  bung  diameter,  multiply  the  sum  by  Iho' 
length  and  divide  the  result  by  1059 '1,  and  the  answer  is  the  con-: 
tent  in  imperial  gallons. 

Casks  as  ordinarily  met  with  are  not  true  spheroidal  frusta,  bat 
it  is  better  to  consider  them  as 
such,  calculate  their  capacity  on 
this  assumption,  and  then  make 
allowance  for  the  departure  from 
the  spheroidal  form.  The  de- 
termination of  the  properallowance- 
to  be  made  in  each  case  is  a  matter 
depending  on  the  skill  and  ex- 
perience of  the  gauger,  and  pro- 
ficiency in  the  art  can  only  be 
attained  by  considerable  practice. 

§  112.  If  the  cask  be  very  little  " 

curved,  wo  obtain  au  approxima-  ^^' 

tion  to  itg  capacity  by  considering  it  as  made  up  of  two  equal.fnista 
of  a  cone,  united  at  their  bases.     Hence  from  §  83  we  have 

volume  of  cask=  ijr?i{rl  +  TiT^  +  tD  nearly. 
Hero  we  neglect  the   small  volumes  generated  by  APY.   YSu, 
BQY',  and  Y'RC  ;  and  therefore  the  volume  is  too  small. 

If  we  put  r^r^  =  r\  we  obtain 

volume  =  y:h{2r\  +  t\)  , 
which  is  a  little  too  large,  and  therefore  the  true  volume  lies  between 
these  two  limits,  and  a  very  close  iiDDroximation  to  it  is  said  to  be 
given  by  the  formula 

%  113.  Ullage  of  a  Cash. — The  quantity  of  liquor  contained  in  a 
cask  partially  tilled  and  the  capacity  of  the  portion  which  is  empty, 
are  termed  respectively  the  wet  and  dry  ullage. 

(a)  Ullage  of  a  standing  cask. — By  mean'-'  of  the  method  applied 
in  §  105,  the  following  rule  is  deduced  : — 

Add  the  square  of  the  diameter  at  the  surface,  the  square  of  the 
diameter  at  tlie  nearest  end,  and  the  square  of  double  the  diameter 
half-way  between  ;  multijily  the  sum  by  the  length  between  the 
surface  and  the  nearest  end,  and  by  '000472. 

The  product  will  be  the  wet  or  dry  ullage  according  as  the  lesser 
portion  of  the  cask  is  filled  or  empty. 

(jS)  Ullage  of  a  lying  cask. — The  ullage  in  ^ms  case  is  found 
approximately  on  the  assumption  that  it  is  proportional  to  the  seg-^ 
meut  of  the  bung  circle  cut  off  by  the  surface  of  the  liquor.  The 
rule  adopted  in  practice  is 

ullage= 5  content  x  segmental  area.  (W.  T.*) 


MENTAL  DISEASES.     See  Insantty. 

MENTON  (Ital.,  Mentone),  a  cantonal  capital  in  the 
'department  of  Alpes-Maritimes,  France,  situated  15  miles 
north-east  of  Nice,  on  the  shores  of  the  Mediterranean, 
The  town,  which  has  a  pojiulation  of  about  8000,  rises 
like  an  amphitheatre  on  a  promontory  by  which  its  semi- 
circular bay  (5  miles  wide  at  its  entrance,  and  bounded  on 
the  W.  by  Cape  Martin  and  on  the  E.  by  the  chffs  of  La 
iMurtola)  is  divided.  It  is  composed  of  two  very  distinct 
[portions .  below,  along  the  sca-shorc,  is  the  town  of  hotels 


and  of  foreigners,  which  alone  is  accessible  to^wheeled, 
vehicles ;  above  is  that  of  the  native  Mentonese,  with] 
steep,  narrow,  and  dark  streets,  spread  over  and  clinging 
to  the  mountain,  around  the  strong  castle  which  was  once 
its  protection  against  the  iattacks  of  pirates.  Facing  the 
south-east,  and  sheltered  on  the  north  and  west  by  higW 
mountains,  the  Bay  of  Mcnton  enjoys  a  delicious  chmateJ 
and  is  on  this  account  much  frequented  by  invalids  rej 
quiring  a  mild  and  equable  temperature.  The  mean  foij 
the  year   is   Gl°   Falir..  exceeding  that  o£  Rome  or  05 


M  E  N  — M  E  R 


29 


^i^  and  "equalling  that  of  Naples.  Frost  occura  on 
the  average  only  once  in  ten  years ;  in  one  particular 
[year  the  thermometer  did  not  fall  below  46°  Fahr.  In 
bummer  the  heat  is  never  very  great,  the  temperature 
'rarely  exceeding  86°  Fahr.  Winter  and  summer  are  the 
imost  agreeable  seasons;  in  autumn  the  rain  storms  are 
accompanied  by  sudden  changes  of  temperature,  and  in 
spring  the  sea  breezes  are  apt  to  be  violent.  Besides  the 
charms  of  its  climate,  Menton  offers  those  of  an  almost 
tropical  vegetation.  Lemon-trees,  olive-trees,  and  pines, 
rising  above  each  other  in  successive  stages,  adorn  the  sur- 
rounding slopes.  The  district  produces  forty  millions  of 
lemons  yearly,  and  this  is  the  principal  source  -of  its  natural 
wealth.  The  olive-trees  are  remarkable  for  the  great  size 
they  have  attained  in  the  course  of  the  centuries  during 
which  they  have  continued  to  bear.  Of  their  wood  a 
multitude  of  fancy  objects  are  made  for  sale  to  strangers. 

The  origin  of  Menton  is  unknown.  During  the  Middle  Ages  it 
was  successively  occupied  by  llic  .Saracens,  the  Genoese,  and  the 
princes  of  Anjou.  In  the  middle  of  the  14th  centui'y  it  was  pur- 
chased as  a  single  domain  by  tiie  Grimaldis,  lords  of  Monaco. 
Daring  the  times  of  the  republic  and  the  first  empire  it  belonged 
to  France  ;  but  in  1815  it  ngain  became  the  property  of  the 
princes  of  Monaco,  who  subjected  it  to  such  exactions  that  in  1848 
Its  inhabitants,  weary  of  finding  their  reasonable  demands  put  off 
with  empty  promises,  proclaimed  their  town  free  and  independent, 
under  the  protection  of  Sardinia.  Menton,  with  the  neighbouring 
commune  of  Roquebrune,  was  united  to  France  in  1860,  at  the  same 
kime  as  Nice  and  Savoy. 

MENTZ.    See  Mainz. 

MENZEL,  Wolfgang  (1798-1873),  poei,  critic,  and 
liistorian,  was  born  June  21,  1798,  at  Waldenburg  in 
Bilesia,  studied  at  Breslau,  Jena,  and  Bonn,  and  after 
living  for  some  time  in  Aarau  and  Heidelberg  finally 
settled  in  Stuttgart,  where,  from  1830  to  1838,  he  had  a 
^eat  in  the  Wiirtemberg  "landtag."  His  first  work,  a 
tiever  and  original  volume  of  poems,  entitled  Slrechverse 
(Heidelberg,  1823),  was  followed  in  1824-25  by  a  popular 
Geschichie  der  Deutschen  in  three  volumes,  and  in  1829 
and  1830  by  Jiubezahl  and  Jfarciisus,  the  ballads  upon 
which  his  reputation  as  a  poet  chiefly  rests.  In  1851  he 
published  the  romance  of  Furore,  a  lively  picture  of  the 
period  of  the  Thirty  Years'  War ;  his  other  very  numerous 
writings  include  Geschichie  Europa's,  1789-1815  (1853), 
and  histories  of  the  German  war  of  1866  and  of  the 
Franco-German  war  of  1870-71.  From  1825  to  1848 
Menzel  edited  a  "  Literaturblatt "  in  connexion  with  the 
Morgenblatt ;  in  the  latter  year  he  transferred  his  allegiance 
from  the  Liberal  to  the  Conservative  party,  and  in  1852 
his  "  Literaturblatt "  was  again  revived  in  that  interest. 
In  1866  his  political  sympathies  again  changed,  and  alibis 
energies  were  employed  to  oppose  the  "  particularism  "  of 
the  Prussian  "junkers"  and  the  antiunionism  of  South 
Germany.  He  died  on  April  23, 1873.  His  large  private 
library  of  18,000  volumes  was  afterwards  acquired  for  the 
university  of  Strasburg. 

MEPHISTOPHELES,  the  name  of  onu  of  the  personi- 
fications of  the  principle  of  evil.  In  old  popular  books 
and  puppet-plays  the  word  appears  in  various  forms, — 
as  Mephistophele's,  Mephistophiles,  Mephistophilis,  and 
Mephostophilis.  In  the  Tragical  History  of  Doctor 
Faustus,  Marlowe  writes  "Mephistophilis";  in  the  Merry 
Wives  of  Windsor  we  find  "  Mcphistophilus."  The  etymo- 
logy of  the  word  ia  uncertain.  According  to  one  theory, 
it  may  be  taken  to  represent  /itjc^uotoi^iAtj?  ;  in  which  case 
the  meaning  would  be  "  one  who  loves  not  light."  Another 
theory  is  that  the  word  is  a  combination  of  the  Latin 
"mephitis"  and  the  Greek  <^i\o9,  signifying  "one  who 
loves  noxious  exhalations."  Probably  it  is  of  Hebrew 
origin, — from  15*?,  a  destroyer,  and  7^^,  taken  to  mean  a 
liar.  ^  This  view  is  supported  by  the  fact  that  almost  all 


the  names  of  devils  in  the  magic-books  of  the  16th  century 
spring  from  the  Hebrew.  In  the  old  Faust  legends  the 
character  of  Mcphistopheles  is  simply  that  of  a  powerful 
and  wicked  being  who  fulfils  Faust's  commands  in  order  to 
obtain  possession  of  his  soul.  Marlowe  attributes  to  him 
a  certain  dignity  and  sadness,  and  there  can  be  little  doubt 
that  the  Mephistophilis  of  the  Tragical  History  suggested 
some  important  traits  of  Milton's  Satan.  The  name  has 
been  made  famous  chiefly  by  Goethe,  whose  conception  of 
theicharacter  varied  at  different  perjods  of  his  career.  Ia 
the  fragment  of  Faust  published  in  1790,  but  written 
many  years  before,  Mcphistopheles  has  a  clearly  marked 
individuality;  he  is  cynical  and  materialistic,  but  has  a. 
man's  delight  in  activity  and  adventure,  and  his  magical 
feats  alone  remind  us  that  he  is  preternatural.  In  revising 
and  extending  this  fragment,  which  forms  the  chief  portion 
of  the  first  part  of  Faust,  Goethe  treated  Mephistopheles 
as  the  representative  of  the  evil  tendencies  of  nature, 
especially  of  the  tendency  to  denial  for  its  own  sake,  rather 
than  as  a  living  person.  This  character  Mephistopheles 
maintains  in  the  second  part,  where,  indeed,  the  name  often 
stands  for  a  pure  abstraction. 

See  Julius  Mosen,  Faust ;  Diintzer,  ErlHuterungm,  BU  Ooethe'i 
JVerken :  Faiist  ;  Vischer,  Goethe's  Faust. 

MEQUINEZ  (the  Spanish  form  of  the  Arabic  Mihndsa), 
a  town  of  Morocco,  the  ordinary  residence  of  the  emperor, 
is  situated  in  a  fine  hilly  country  about  70  miles  from  the^ 
west  coast  and  35  west-south-west  of  Fez  on  the  road  to 
Bailee,  in  34°  N.  lat.  and  5°  35'  W.  long.  The  town-wall, 
with  its  four-cornered  towers,  is  kept  in  good  condition; 
and  a  lower  wall  of  wider  circuit  protects  the  luxuriant 
gardens  with  which  the  outskirts  are  embellished.  In  the 
general  regularity  of  its  streets,  and  in  the  fairly  substantial 
character  of  its  houses,  Mequinez  ranks  higher  than  any 
other  town  in  Morocco ;  but  it  possesses  few  buUdings  of 
any  note,  except  the  palace,  and  the  mosque  of  Mulei  Ismael, 
which  serves  as  the  royal  burying-place.  At  one  time  the 
palace  (founded  in  1634)  was  an  imposing  structure,  but 
the  finest  part  has  been  allowed  to  go  to  ruin.  In  1721 
Windhus  described  it  as  "  about  4  miles  in  circumference, 
the  whole  building  exceeding  massy,  and  the  walls  in  every 
part  very  thick ;  the  outward  one  about  a  mile  long  and  25 
feet  thick."  The  best  part  consisted  of  oblongs  enclosing 
large  open  courts  or  gardens.  Mortar  or  concrete  was  t^-o 
principal  material  used  for  the  walls,  but  the  pillars  v.-ere 
in  many  cases  onarble  blocks  of.  great  beauty  and  costliness 
(A  Journey  to  Mequinez,  London,  1725).  Most  of  the 
inhabitants  of  Mequinez  are  connected  more  or  less  directly 
with  the  court.  Their  number  has  been  very  variously 
estimated  by  different  travellers.  Graberg  de  Hemso  gives 
56,000  in  1834,  Eohlfs  in  1861  from  40,000  to  50,000, 
and  Conring  in  1880  about  30,000.  The  town  was 
formerly  called  TAkarart.  .  Edrisi  refers  the  present  name 
to  a  Berber  chief  MeknAs.  ^ 

MERAN,  a  favourite  health  resort,  and  the  capital  of  » 
district  in  South  Tyrol,  Austria,  is  pictiu'esquely  situated 
at  the  foot  of  the  vine-clad  Kiichelberg,  on  the  right  bank 
of  the  Passer,  about  half  a  mile  above  its  junction  with  the 
Adige,  and  45  miles  to  the  south  of  Innsbruck.  Meran' 
proper  consists  mainly  of  one  long  narrow  street,  called 
the  Laubengasse,  flanked  by  covered  arcades.  In  a  wider 
sense,  the  name  is  often  used  to  include  the  adjacent 
viUages  of  Untermais,  Obermais,  and  Gratsch.  The  most 
noteworthy  buildings  are  the  Gothic  church  of  St  Nicholas,' 
with  its  lofty  tower,  dating  from  the  14th  and  15th 
centuries;  the  Spitalkirche,  built  in  the  15th  century,  and 
restored  in  1880;  and  the  quaint  old  Fiirstenhans,  or 
residence  of  the  counts  of  Tyrol.  The  town  contaii.s  a 
gymnasium,  a  nunnery  and  school  for  girls,  an  institution' 
for  sick  priests,  and  several  other  charitable  establishments.! 


.30 


M  E  il  ~  M  E  R 


MBran  owes  lis  liigh  reputation  as  a  resort  for  consumptive 
and  nervous  invalids  to  the  purity '  of  its  air  and  its  com- 
parative immunity  from  wind  and  rain  in  winter.  It  stands 
in  46°  41'  N.  lat.,  at^a  height  of  1050  feet  above  the  sea, 
and  has  a  mean  annual  temperature  of  about  54°  Fahr. 
Meran  enjoys  three  seasons,  being  also  visited  in  spring 
for  the  whey-cure  and  in  autumn  for  the  grape-cure.  The 
arrangements  for  the  comfort  of  the  visitors  are  very  com- 
plete; and  the  environs  afford  opportunity  for  numerous 
pleasant  walks  and  excursions.  The  favourite  promenade  of 
the  inhabitants  is  on  a  massive  dyke,  built  to  protect  the 
town  afjainst  the  encroachments  of  the  Passer.  Nearly 
twenty  old  castles  and  chateaus  are  visible  from  the  bridge 
over  the  Passer,  the  most  interesting  being  Schloss  Tyrol, 
an  ancient  edifice  which  has  given  its  name  to  the  entire 
country.  Meran  is  now  frequented  by  about  6500  patients 
and  8000  to  9000  passing  travellers  annually.  In  1880  its 
population,  including  Obermais  and  Untermais,  amounted 
to  5334  souls. 

Meran  is  probably  the  representative  of  the  Boman  CTrbs  Majeiisis, 
afterwards  known  as  Mairania.  It  became  a  town  in  1290,  and 
down  to  1490  was  the  capital  of  the  counts  and  dukes  of  Tyrol. 
The  town  suffered  somewhat  during  the  Peasants*  War  in  the  16th 
centiu-y,  and  subsequently  from  destructive  Hoods.  As  a  health- 
resort  it  has  been  known  for  about  forty  years.  The  whole  region 
in  which  it  lies  is  singularly  rich  in  historic  interest 

Aulhoritifs.—Beda  Weber,  Meran-,  Dliringsfeld,  Aui  Meran,  1808;  Noe,  Der 
FruhUng  von  Meran ;  Stampfev,  Clironik  ion  Meran,  18U7.  and  Oeschichto  der 
Stadt  Meran,  1872  ;  Piiclier,  Meran  ah  Ktimatiseher  Kurort,  1870  ;  Plaot.  Fiihrer 
diu'Ch  Meran,  2d  ed.,  1879  ;  Knoblauch,  Meran,  5th  ed.,  1881 

MERCATOR,  Geeakdus  (Latinized  form  of  Gerhard 
Kramer)  (1512-1594),  mathematician  and  geographer,  was 
bom  at  Rupelmonde  in  Flanders,  May  5,  1512.  Hav- 
ing completed  his  studies  at  Louvain,  he  devoted  him- 
self to  geography,  and,  after  being  for  some  time  attached 
to  the  household  of  Charles  V.,  he  was  appointed  cosmo- 
grapher  to  the  duke  of  Juliers  and  Cleves  in  1559,  taking 
up  his  residence  at  Duisburg,  where  he  died  December  2, 
1594.  One  of  his  earliest  cartographical  works  was  a 
terrestrial  globe  (1541),  followed  in  1551  by  a  celestial 
globe.  In  1552  he  published  a  treatise  De  tisu  annuH 
ditronomici  (Louvain),  and  at  Cologne  in  1569  his  Clirono- 
logia,  hoc  est  Umporum  demonsiratio  .  .  .  ab  initio  mundi 
usque  ad  Anmim  Domini  1568,  ex  eclipsibiis  et  observa- 
tionibus  astronomicis,  sacris  quoque  Sibliis,  &c.  In  the  same 
year  was  published  the  first  map  on  Mercator's  well-kno^^'n 
projection,  with  the  parallels  and  meridians  at  right  angles, 
for  use  in  navigation.  At  Cologne,  in  1578,  appeared  his 
Tabulx geographicee  ad  mentem  Fiolemsei  reslitutse  et.emend- 
<Ux.  The  work  by  which  he  is  chiefly  known  is  his  atlas, 
published  in  1594  at  Duisburg,  in  folio,  under  the  title  of 
Atlas,  sive  Cosmographica;  medilationes  de  fabrica  mundi. 
It  contains,  besides  the  maps,  cosmographical  and  other 
dissertations,  some  of  the  theological  views  in  which  were 
condemned  as  heretical ;  it  was  completed  by  Hondius  in 
1607.  Several  of  the  maps  had  been  previously  published 
separately,  the  atlas  being  dehvyed  to  allow  Ortelius  to 
complete  his.  Mercator  also  oublished  in  1592  a  Jlar- 
monia  Evangeliorum. 

\  MERCURIAL  AIR-PUMP.  This  name  is  given  to 
two  distinct  instruments,  one  of  which  is  founded  on 
statical,  the  other  on  hydrodynamica!  principles. 

1.  The  Statical  Pump. — The  famous  spiritualist  Sweden- 
borg  was  the  first  to  conceive  an  air-pump  in  which  a  mass 
of  mercury,  by  being  made  to  rise  and  fall  alternately 
within  a  vertical  vessel,  should  do  the  work  which  in  the 
ordinary  instrument  is  assigned  to  the  piston.  Ho  pub- 
lished a  description  of  his  pump  in  1722;  but  it  is 
questionable  whether  his  design  was  ever  realized.  Of 
numerous  subsequent  inventions  the  only  one  which,  in 
fact,  has  survived  is  the  admirably  simple  and  yet  efficient 
instroment  first  described  in  1858,  but  constructed  some 


Fio.  1. — Geisler'e 
Mercurial  Air- Pump. 


time  before,  by  H.  Gei.'Jer  of  Bonn,  w'lich  at  once,  and" 
justly,  met  with  universal  acceptance. 

The  general  scheme  of  Geisler's  pump  is  shown  in  fig.  1.' 
A  and  B  are  pear-shaped  glass  vessels  connected  by  a  long 
narrow  indiarrubber  tube,  which  must 
be  sufficiently  strong  in  the  body  (or 
strengthened  by  a  linen  coating)  to 
stand  an  outward  pressure  of  1  to  L} 
atmospheres.  A  terminates  below  in  a 
narrow  vertical  tube  c,  which  is  a  few 
inches  longer  tlian  the  height  of  the  \ 
barometer,  and  to  the  lower  end  of  this 
tube  the  india-rubber  tube  is  attached 
wliich  connects  A  with  B.  To  the 
upper  end  of  A  is  soldered  a  glass  two- 
way  stop-cock,  by  turning  which  the 
vessel  A  can  either  be  made  to  com- 
municate through  s  and  a  hole  in  the 
hollow  cock  with  the  vessel  to  be  ex- 
hausted (I._,  fig.  2),  or  through  g  with 
the  atmosphere  (II.,  fig.  2),  or  can  be 
shut  off  from  both  when  the  cock  holds 
an  intermediate  position.  The  apparatus, 
after  having  been  carefully  cleaned  and 
dried,  is  charged  with  pure  and  dry  mer- 
cury, which  must  next  be  worked  back- 
wards and  forwards  between  A  and  B  to 
remove  all  the  air-bells.  The  air  is  then  driven  out  of  A  by 
lifting  B  to  a  sufficient  level,  turning  the  cock  into  position 
n.,  and  letting  the  mercury  flow  into  A  untU  it  gets  to 
the  other  side  of  the  stop-cock,  which  is  then  pkiced  in 
the  intermediate  posi- 
tion. Supposing  the 
vessel  to  be  exhausted 
to  have  already  been 
securely  connected  with 
b,  we  now  lower  the 
reservoir  B  so  as  to  re- 
duce the  pressure  in  A 
sufficiently  below  the 
tension  in  the  gas  to 
be  sucked  in,  and,  by 
turning  the  cock  into 
position  I.,  cause  the  gas 
to  expand  into  and  al- 
most fill  A.  The  cock 
is  now  shut  against  both 
a  and  b,  the  reservoir 
lifted,  the  gas  contents 
of  A  discharged  through 
a,  and  so  on,  untU,  when 
after  an  exhaustion  mer- 
cury is  let  into  A,  the 


-Arrangements  of  Stoo-Cock 
in  Air-Pump. 


metal  strikes  against  the  top  without  interposition  of  a 
gas-bell.  In  a  well-made  apparatus  the  pressure  in  tha 
exhausted  vessel  is  now  reduced  to  y^  or  ^  of  a  milli- 
metre, or  even  less.  An  absolute  vacuum  cannot  be  pro- 
duced on  account  of  the  unavoidable  air-film  between  the 
mercury  and  the  walls  of  the  apparatus. 

Tlie  great  advantage  of  the  mercurial  over  the  ordinary  air-pump 
is  tliat  it  evacuates  far  more  completely  than  the  latter,  that  it 
nffrrds  direct  and  unmistakable  evidence  of  the  exhaustiveness  of 
its  work,  and — last  not  least — that  it  enables  one  to  transfer  thegsa 
sucked  out  to  another  vessel  without  loss  or  contimination,  so  that 
it  can  be  measured  and  analysed.  On  account  of  this  latter  feature 
ruoro  especially,  the  instrument  is  highly  valued  as  an  auxiliary  in 
gasometric  researches.  Without  it  the  researches  on  which  rests 
our  present  knowledge  of  the  gases  of  the  blood  could  not  have  been 
I  carried   out.     The  actual   instrument,  as  constructed   for  various 

I  kinds  of  work,  has  of  course  various  complexities  of  detail  omitted 
in  tho  above  description.  For  these  the  reader  must  refer  to  hand;' 
boolm  of  practical  physiology. 


]M  E  R  —  M  E  R 


31 


As  it  takes  a  height  of  abont  30  inches  of  mercury  to  balance 
[the  pressure  of  the  atmosphere,  a  Geisler  pump  necessarily  is  a 
tomewhat  long-legged  and  unwieldy  instrument.  It  can  be  con- 
nderably  shortened,  the  two  vessels  A  and  B  broudit  more  closely 
together,  and  the  somewhat  objectionitilo  india-rubber  tube  be  dis- 
pensed with,  it  we  couuect  the  air-space  in  B  with  an  ordinary  air- 
j'Ump,  and  by  means  of  it  do  the  greater  part  of  the  sucki]ig  and 
|the  whole  of  the  lifting  work.  An  instrument  thus  modified  was 
coDstructed  by  Poggendorff  (see  his  Annalcn,  vol.  cxxv.  p.  151, 
1865),  and  another,  on  somewhat  different  principles,  by  Prof. 
Dittniar  (see  the  "  QMllcngcr  "  Reports). 

Even  a  Geisler's  stop-cock  requires  to  be  lubricatea  to  be  abso- 
lutely gas-tight,  and  this  occasionally  proves  a  nuisance.  Hence  a 
number  of  attempts  have  been  made  to  do  witliout  stop-cocks  alto- 
gether. In  Topler's  pump'  this  is  attained  by  using  both  for  tlie 
inlet  and  the  outlet  vertical  capillary  glass'tubes,  soldered,  the 
former  to  Somewhere  near  the  bottom,  the  latter  to  the  top  of  the 
vessel.  These  tubes,  being  more  than  30  inches  high,  obviously 
act  as  efficient  mercury-traps  ;  but  the  .already  considerable  height 
of  the  pump  is  thus  multiplied  by  two.  This  consideration  has  led 
Alexander  Mitscherlicli  (Pogg.  Ann.,  cl.  420,  1873),  and  quite 
lately  F.  Ncisen  (Z.  f.  Inslrummicnkunde,  1882,  p.  285)  to  intro- 
duce glass  valves  in  lieu  of  stop-cocks.  As  glass  floats  on  mercury, 
such  valves  do  not  necessarily  detract  from  the  exhaustive  power 
of  the  pump. 

2.  The  Dynamv:  Pump. — This  was  invented  in  1865  by 
H.  SprengeL  The  instrument,  in  its  original  (simplest) 
form  (fig.  3),.  consists  of  a  vertical 
capillary  glass  tube  a  of  about 
1  mm.  bore,  provided  with  a 
lateral  branch  6  near  its  upper 
end,  which  latter,  by  an  india- 
rubber  joint  governable  by  a  screw- 
clamp,  communicates  with  a  funnel. 
The   lower   end  is   bent   into  the 


Flo.  3. — SprengeL'a 
Air-Pump. 


shape  of  a  hook,  and  dips  into  a 

pneumatic  trough.     The  vessel  to 

be  exhausted  is  attached  to  b,  and, 

ip  order  to  extract  its  gas  contents, 

a  properly  regulated  stream  of  mer- 
cury is  allowed  to  fall  through  the 

vertical  tube.     Every  drop  of  mer- 

ciuy,  as  it  enters  from  the  funnel, 

entirely  closes  the  narrow  tube  like 

a  piston,  and   in   going  past   the 

place  where  the  side  tube   enters 

entraps  a  portion  of  air  and  carries 

it  down  to  the  trough,  where  it  can 

be  collected.     If  the  vertical  tube, 

measuring  from  the   point   where 
the  branch  comes  in,  is  a  few  inches 

greater    than   the   height   of   the 
barometer,  and  the  glass  and  mer- 
cury are  perfectly  clean,  the  apparatus  slowly  but  surely 
produces  an  almost  absolute  vacuum. 

■  The  great  advantages  of  Sprengel's  pump  lie  in  the  simplicity  of 
its  construction  and  in  the  readijiess  with  which  it  adapts  itself  to 
the  collecting  of  the  gas.  It  did  excellent  service  in  the  hands  of 
Graham  for  the  extraction  of  gases  occluded  in  metals,  and  since 
then  has  become  very  popular  in  g.is-laboratories,  especially  in 
Britain.  Many  improvements  upon  the  original  construction  have 
been  proposed.  One  of  these  which  deserves  mention  is  to  pass  the 
mercury,  before  it  enters  the  "  falling "  tube,  through  a  bulb  in 
which  a  good  vacuum  is  maintained,  by  means  of  an  ordinary  air- 
pump  or  a  second  "Sprengel."  (\V.  D.) 

MERCURY  was  the  Roman  goa  who  presided  over 
barter,  trade,  and  all  commercial  dealings.  His  nature  is 
probably  more  intelligible  and  simple  than  that  of  any 
other  Roman  deity.  His  very  name,  which  is  connected 
with  TTurx,  mercator,  kc,  shows  that  he  is  the  god  of 
merchandise  and  the  patron  of  merchants.  In  the  native 
Italian  states  no  merchants  and  no  trade  existed  till  the 
.influence  of  the  Greek  colonies  on  the  coast  introduced 
Greek  customs  into  the  cities  of  the  land.     All  the  usages 

r  '  See  Dingler's  Polytechn.  Journal,  1862  ;  an  imnroved  form  by 
S?8sel-Qagen  is  described  in  Wiedemann'a  AnntUen,  iii.  425,  1881. 


and  terminology  of  trade,  and  all  the  religious  ceremonies 
conjiected  with  it,  were  borrowed  by  the  Romans  from  the 
Greeks.  It  was  no  doubt  under,  the  rule  of  the  Tarquiiis, 
when  the  prosperity  of  the  state  and  its  intercourse  with 
the  outer  world  were  so  much  increased,  that  merchanU 
began  to  ply  their  trade  in  Rome.  Doubtless  the 
merchants  practised  their  religious  ceremonies  from  the 
first,  but  their  god  filercuiius  was  not  ofiiciaUy  recognized 
by  the  state  till  the  year  495  b.c.  Rome  frequently  suffered 
from  scarcity  of  corn  during  the  unsettled  times  that 
followed  the  expulsion  of  the  Tarquins.  Various  religions 
innovations  were  made  to  propitiate  the  gods ;  in  496  the 
Greek  worship  of  Demcter,  Dionysus,  and  Persephone 
was  established  in  the  city  (see  Liber),  and  in  495  the 
Greek  god  Heemes  (q.v.)  was  introduced  into  Rome  under 
the  Italian  name  of  Mercurius  (Livj',  ii.  21,  27).  Preller 
thinks  that  at  the  same  time  the  trade  in  corn  was  rcu- 
lated  by  law,  and  a  regular  college  of  merchants  was 
instituted.  This  collegium  was  under  the  protection  of  the 
god ;  their  annual  festival  was  on  the  Ides  of  May,  on 
which  day  the  temple  of  the  god  had  been  dedicated  at 
the  southern  end  of  the  circus  maximm,  near  the  Aventine  • 
and  the  members  were  called  mercurinles  as  well  as 
mercatores.  The  Ides  of  May  was  chosen  as  the  feast  of 
Mercury,  obviously  because  Maia  was  the'  mother  of 
Hermes,  i.e.,  of  Mercury  (see  Maia)  ;  and  she  was  wor- 
shipped along  with  her  son  by  the  mercurinles  on  this 
day.  According  to  Preller,  this  religious  foundation  had 
a  political  object ;  it  established  on  a  legitimate  and  sure 
basis  the  trade  between  Rome  and  the  Greek  colonies  of 
the  coast,  whereas  formerly  this  trade  had  been  e-Tposed  to 
the  capricious  interference  of  the  Government  officials  for 
the  year.  Like  all  borrowed  religions  in  Rome,  it  must 
have  retained  the  rites  and  the  terminology  of  its  Greek' 
original  (Festus,  p.  257).  Mercury  became  the  god,  not 
only  of  the  mercatores  and  of  the  corn  trade,  but  of  buying 
and  selling  in  general ;  and  it  appears  that,  at  least  in  the 
streets  where  shops  were  common,  little  chapels  and  images 
of  the  god  were  erect  yj.  There  was  a  spring  dedicated  to 
Mercury  between  his  temple  and  the  Porta  Capena  ;  every 
shopman  drew  water  from  this  spring  on  the  Ides  of  May,' 
and  sprinkled  it  with  a  laurel  twig  over  his  head  and  over 
his  goods,  at  the  same  time  entreating  Mercury  to  remove 
from  his  head  and  his  goods  the  guilt  of  all  his  deceits 
(Ovid,  Fasti,  v.  673  sq.).  The  art  of  the  Roman  tradesmad 
was  evidently  like  that  of  an  Oriental  tradesman  in  modern 
times,  and  the  word  mcrcurialis  was  popularly  used  as 
equivalent  to  "  cheat."  In  the  Latin  poets  Mercury  is  often: 
gifted  with  some  of  the  manifold  characters  of  the  Greek' 
Hermes,  but  this  finer  conception  seems  to  have  had  no' 
real  existence  in  Roman  religion. 

Roman  statuettes  of  bronze,  in  which  Mercury  is  represented,  like 
the  Greek  Hermes,  standing  holding  the  caduceus  in  the  one  hand 
and  a  purse  in  the  othei-,  are  exceedinely  common.  The  caduceus 
rnust  have  been  introduced  as  a  symbol  of  Mercury  at  a  very  early 
time,  for  it  is  found  on  Italian  coins  as  early  as  tlie  4th  century 
before  Christ,  and  we  learn  that  several  were  kept.as  sacred  objects 
in  the  adytumol  the  sanctu.iry  at  Lavinium  (Dion.  Hal.,  i.  67). 
But  its  foreign  origin  is  shown  by  the  fact  that,  although  it  was  s 
sign  of  peace,  it  was  never  borne  by  the  fdialcs,  the  old  Italino 
heralds.  The  very  name  is  derived  from  the  Greek  Kvpixeioy. 
Preller's  view  (iJtIm.  Myth.)  that  mercuriahs  and  mercatores  are 
the  same  guild  is  a  tempting  one.  but  its  truth  is  very  doubtfuJL; 
Mommsen  thinks  that  mercurialcs  were  a  purely  local  guild,  viz., 
the  pagani  of  the  Circus  valley. 

MERCURY,  in  chemistry,  is  a  metal  (symbol  Hg)  which 
is  easily  distinguished  from  all  others  by  its  being  liquid 
at  even  the  lowest  temperatiu-es  naturally  occurring  in 
moderate  climates.  To  this  exceptional  property  it  owes 
the  .synonyms  of  quicksilver  in  English  (with  the  Germans 
quecksilber  is  the  only  recognised  name)  and  of  hydrar- 
gyrum (from  uSiDo.  water,  and  dfyyupoi,  silver)  in  Gr>eco-Latin. 


S2 


MERCURY 


?rhis  metal  does  not  api)ear  to  have  been  Icnown  to  the 
ancient  Jews,  nor  is  it  mentioned  by  the  earlier  Greek 
.•writers.  Theophrastus  (about  300  B.C.)  mentions  it  as  a 
derivative  of  cinnabar.  With  the  alchemists  it  was  a 
substance  of  great  consequence.  Being  ignorant  of  its 
susceptibility  of  freezing  into  a  compact  solid,  they  did  not 
recognize  it  as  a  true  metal,  and  yet,  on  the  authority  of 
Gober,  they  held  that  mercury  (meaning  the  predominating 
element  in  this  metal)  enters  into  the  composition  of  all 
metals,  and  is  the  very  cause  of  their  metaUicity.  When, 
about  the  beginning  of  the  IGth  century,  chemistry  and 
scientific  medicine  came  to  merge  into  one,  this  same 
mysterious  element  of  "  mercury  "  played  a  great  part  in 
rthe  theories  of  pathology ;  and  the  metal,  in  the  free  as  in 
,certain  combined  states,  came  to  be  looked  upon  as  a 
ipowerful  medicinal  agent,  which  position,  on  purely  em- 
Ipirical  ground.s,  it  continues  to  bold  to  the  present  day. 

Mercury  occurs  in  nature  chiefly  in  the  form  of  a  red 
sulphide,  HgS,  called  cinnabar,  which,  as  a  rule,  is  accom- 
panied by  more  or  less  of  the  reguline  metal, — the  latter 
being  probably  derived  from  the  former  by  some  secondary 
reaction.  The  most  important  mercury  mines  in  Europe 
are  those  of  Almaden  in  Spain  and  of  Idria  in  Illyria ; 
these  until  lately  furnished  the  bulk  of  the  mercury  of 
commerce,  but  they  are  now  almost  ecUpsed  by  the  rich 
deposits  of  New  Almaden  in  California.  Considerable 
quantities  of  mercury  are  said  to  be  produced  in  China  and 
in  Japan  ;  minor  deposits  are  being  worked  in  the  Bavarian 
Palatinate,  in  Hungary,  Transylvania,  Bohemia,  and  Peru. 
At  Almaden  the  ore  forms  mighty  veins  traversing  micaceous 
schists  of  the  older  transition  jieriod ;  in  IlljTia  it  is  dis- 
seminated in  beds  of  bituminous  schists  or  compact  lime- 
[stone  of  more  recent  date. 

Chemically  speaking,  the  extraction  of  merciu'y  from  its 
tores  is  a  simple  matter.  Metallic  mercury  is  easily  vola- 
tilized, and  separated  from  the  gangue,  at  temperatures  far 
below  redness,  and  cinnabar  at  a  red  heat  is  readily  reduced 
po  the  metallic  state  by  the  action  of  iron  or  Ume  or 
atmo.spheric  oxygen,  the  sulphur  being  eliminated,  in  the 
first  case  as  sulphide  of  iron,  in  the  second  as  sulphide 
and  sulphate  of  calcium,  in  the  third  as  sulphurous  acid 
■gas.  To  the  chemical  mind  a  close  iron  retort  would 
suggest  itself  as  the  proper  kind  of  apparatus  for  carrying 
out  these  operations,  but  this  idea  is  acted  upon  only  in 
a  few  small  establishments, — for  instance,  in  that  of  Zwei- 
briicken  in  the  Palatinate,  where  lime  is  used  as  a  decom- 
posing agent.  In  all  the  large  works  the  decomposition 
of  the  cinnabar  is  effected  by  the  direct  exposure  of  the 
ore  to  the  oxidizing  flame  of  a  furnace,  and  the  mercury 
[vapour,  which  of  course  gets  diffused  through  an  immense 
mass  of  combustion  gases,  is  sought  to  be  recovered  in 
jnore  or  less  imperfect  condensers. 

^  At  Alnmden  this  roasting  distillation  is  effected  in  prismatic 
furnaces,  which,  by  a  second  upper  (brick)  grating  are  divided  into 
Itwo  Oats,  tlio  lower  one  serving  for  tlie  generation  of  a  wood  iire, 
■while  the  upper  accommodates  tlie  ore,  wliicli  is  inti-oduced  through 
nn  opening  in  tlie  dome-shaped  roof.  To  avoid  au  excessive  diiu- 
;tion  of  tlie  mercury  vapour  witli  coinhustion  gases,  pait  of  these  are 
iled  out  laterally  into  a  chimney  and  the  rest  allowed  to  strike  up 
(through  the  heap  of  ore.  The  large  mass  of  metalliferous  vapour 
■produced  passi'S  out  through  a  system  of  pipes  inserted  laterally  into 
tlie  dome  and  so  ari-auged  that  they  follow  tirst  a  descending  and 
,tlien  an  ascending  iilaiic,  to  lead  ultimalely  into  a  condensation 
chamber  which  communicates  in  its  turn  with  a  chimney.  Tlie 
,pipes  are  formed  each  of  a  largo  number  of  elongated  pear-shaped 
earthenware  adapters  (called  aliulch),  which  are  telescoped  into 
one  another  as  in  the  rase  of  the  iodine-distillation  ajiparatus,  the 
lioints  being  luted  with  clay.  The  lowest  row  of  aludels,  wliicli 
Ilie  in  the  line  of  intersection  of  the  two  inclined  planes,  are  pierced 
with  holes  below,  so  that  what  arrives  as  liiiuid  mercury  there 
i-uns  out  into  a  gutter  leading  to  a  reservoir.  Wliat  of  mercury 
vapour  remains  uncondensed  in  the  aludels  passes  into  the  chamber, 
the  intention  being  to  have  it  condensed  there  ;  in  reality  a  large 
jiroportiou  of_tho  mercury  passes  out  thr'ough  the  chimney  (and 


through  the  numerous  leaks  in  the  aludels)  into  the  atmosphere' 
to  poison  the  surrounding  vegetation  and  the  workmen.  Similar 
furnaces  to  the  Almaden  ones  are  used  in  Idiia  and  at  Now 
Almaden  ;  only  the  conden.sation  apparatus  are  a  little  less  im- 
perfect. But  in  all  three  places  the  loss  of  metal  is  very  consider- 
able ;  at  New  Almaden  it  is  said  to  amount  to  close  upon  40  per  cent 
The  mercury  obtained  is  purified  mechanically  by  straining  it 
through  dense  linen  bags,  and  then  sent  out  into  commerce  in  leather 
bags,  or  iu  wrought-iron  bottles  provided  with  screw  plugs,  each 
J'olding  about  75  It*  avoirdupois. 

According  to  BalHng's  Metallurgische  Chemie  (Bonn,- 
1882),  the  production  of  mercury  in  the  years  named  was 
as  follows  : — 

Austria,  exclusive  of  Hungary  (1880) 369  tons. 

Hungary  (1879) 180     „ 

Italy  (1877) S5     „ 

Spain  (1873) 929     „ 

United  States  (1875) '2054     „ 

Assuming  the  amount  to  be  the  same  from  year  to  year, 
this  gives  a  total  of  3587  tons. 

The  price  of  the  metal  is  subject  to  immense  fluctuations ;] 
it  generally  ranges  from  2s.  to  7s.  Cd.  a  pound  avoirdupois.' 

Commercial  mercury,  as  a  rule,  is  very  pure  chemically,' 
so  that  it  needs  only  to  be  forced  through  chamois  leather 
to  become  fit  for  all  ordinary  applications ;  but  the  metal,! 
having  the  power  of  dissolving  most  ordinary  other  metals,' 
is  very  liable  to  get  contaminated  with  these  in  the  labora-' 
tory  or  workshop,  and  requires  then  to  be  purified.  For 
this  purpose  a  great  many  chemical  methods  have  been' 
proposed,  which,  however,  all  come  to  this,  that  the 
base  admixtures  are  sought  to  be  removed  by  treatment 
with  nitric  acid,  oil  of  vitriol,  or  other  agents  which  act 
preferably  on  the  impurities.  The  best  of  these  methods 
is  that  of  Briihl,  who  shakes  the  metal  with  a  solution  of 
5  grammes  of  bichromate  of  potash  and  a  few  cubic  centi- 
metres of  sulphvu-ic  acid  in  one  litre  of  water,  until  the  red 
chromate  of  mercury,  first  produced,  has  disappeared,  and 
its  place  been  taken  by  green  chromic  sulphates.  The 
supernatant  liquor  and  chromic  scum  are  washed  away  by 
a  powerful  jet  of  water,  and  the  clean  metal  is  dried  and 
filtered  through  a  perforated  paper  filter.  The  only  really 
exhaustive  method  is  redistillation  out  of  a  glass  apparatus. 
Unfortunately  the  operation  is  difficult  of  execution,  as 
mercury  "  bumps "  badly  on  boihng ;  but  this  can  be 
"avoided  by  distilling  the  metal  in  a  jKrfect  vacuum.  An 
ingenious  apparatus  for  this  purpose,  in  which  the  distilled' 
metal  itself  is  made  to  keep  up  the  vacuum,  was  con- 
structed lately  by  Leonhard  Weber.  A  U-tube,  the  limbs 
of  which  are  longer  than  the  height  of  the  barometer,  is 
filled  with  pure  mercury,  and  inverted,  the  one  Uinb 
being  made  to  dip  into  a  vessel  with  pure,  the  other 
into  another  containing  the  impure,  mercury.  This  second 
limb  is  inflated  above  so  that  the  meniscus  is  about  the 
middle  of  the  bulb.  This  bulb  is  heated,  and  the  conse- 
quence is  that  the  metal  there  distds  over  into  the  first 
limb  to  add  to  the  supply  of  pure  metal,  the  impure 
rising  up  in  the  second  by  itself  ;o  maintain  a  constant 
level.  Dewar  has  modified  the  apparatus  so  that  there 
is  no  need  of  a  supply  of  pure  metal  to  start  with. 
Absolutely  pure  mercury  docs  not  at  all  adhere  to  any 
surface  which  does  not  consist  of  a  metal  soluble  in  mercury. 
Hence  the  least  quantity  of  it,  when  placed  on  a  sheet  of 
paper,  forms  a  neatly  rounded-off  globule,  which  retains  its 
form  on  being  rolled  about,  and,  when  subdivided,  breaks 
up  into  a  number  of  equally  perfect  globules.  The  presence 
in  it  of  the  minutest  trace  of  lead  or  tin  causes  it  to  "  draw 
tails."  A  very  impiu'e  metal  may  adhere  even  to  glass,' 
and  in  a  glass  vessel,  instead  of  the  normal  convex,  form 
an  irregular  flat  meniscus. 

Properlies. — The  pure  metal  is  silver-white,  and  retains 
its  strong  lustre  even  on  long  exposure  to  ordinary  air. 
At  -  38°-8  C,  i.e.,  -  37°-9  F.  (Balfour  Stewart),  it  freezes, 


MERCURY 


33 


with  considerable  contraction,  into  a  compact  mass  of 
r^nlar  octahedia,  which  can  be  cut  with  a  knife  and  be 
flattened  under  the  hammer.  The  specific  gravity  of  the 
frozen  metal  ja  14'39 ;  that  of  the  liquid  metal  at  0°  C.  is 
13-595  (water  of  i'  C.  ■=  1).  Under  760  mm.  pressure 
it  boils  at  357'-3  C.  (675'-l  Fahr.)  (Regnault).  At  very 
low  temperatures  it  seems  to  be  absolutely  devoid  of 
Tolatility  (Faraday);  but  from  -  13' C.  upwards  (Regnault) 
it  exhibits  an  appreciable  vapour  tension. 

The  following  table  gives  the  tensions  "p,"  in  millimetres 
of  mercury  of  0°  C,  for  a  series  of  centigrade  temperatures 
"t,"  according  to  EegnauU  : — 

t-  0'         10'        20°        60°       100°       150°  200° 

/>--02        -OS         -04         -11         75        4-27         19  90 
t-  250°  SCO*  350'  400'         450°         600° 

p-7575        242-1         663-2        1588        3384         6520 
According   to  the  same  authority,  its  average  coefficient 
of  expansion  4  per  degree  C.  is  as  follows  :  — 

0-100°  C.  0-200°  C.  0  .300'  C. 

i-  -0001815  -0001841  -0001866 

•r  1/5510  1/5432  1/5359 

Its  specific  heat  in  the  liquid  state  is  "03332 ;  that  of 
the  frozen  metal  (between  -  78°  and  -  40°  C.)  is  -0319 
(Regnaait).  Its  electric  conductivity  is  ^  of  that  of  pure 
silver  (MattMesen).  Its  conductive  power  for  heat  is 
greater  than  that  of  water,  and  is  proved  (by  Herwig)  to 
be  perfectly  constant  from  40°  to  160°  C.  Its  vapour 
density  (air  of  the  same  temperature  and  pressure  =  1)  is 
6-676  (Dumas),  or  100-93  for  hydrogen  =  1.  Hence  its 
molecular  weight  (H5  =  2)  is  201-86.  The  atomic  weight, 
by  chemical  methods,  was  found  =  200-0  (Erdmann  and 
Marchand) ;  hence  mercury-vapour  molecijee  consist  of 
single  atoms.  Mercury  does  not  appreciably  absorb  any 
chemically  inert  gas. 

Mercury  is  in  constant  requisition  in  the  laboratory.  It 
is  used  for  the  collecting  and  measuring  of  gases,  in  the 
construction  of  thermometers,  barometers,  and  manometers, 
for  the  determination  of  the  capacity  of  vessels,  and  many 
other  purposes.  In  medicine  it  serves  for  the  preparation 
of  mercurial  ointment  and  of  "  hydrargyrum  cum  creta " 
(the  chief  component  of  "  blue  pills  ") ;  both  are  obtained 
by  diligently  triturating  the  metal  with  certain  proportions 
•f  grease  and  chalk  respectively  until  it  is  "  deadened,"  i.e., 
■dbdivided  into  invisibly  small  globules  (see  below). 

Alloyt. — Mercury  readily  unites  directly  with  all  metals 
(except  iron  and  platinum)  into  what  are  called  amalgams. 
In  some  cases  the  union  takes  place  with  considerable 
evolution  of  heat  and  large  modification  of  the  mean  pro- 
perties of  the  components.  Thus,  for  instance,  sodium 
when  rubbed  np  with  mercury  unites  with  it  with  deflagra- 
tion and  formation  of  an  alloy  which,  if  it  contains  more 
than  2  per  cent,  of  sodium,  is  hard  and  brittle,  although 
Bodium  is  as  soft  as  wax  and  mercury  a  liquid.  Liquid 
ttmnlgama  of  gold  and  silver  are  employed  for  gilding  and 
silvering  objects  of  copper,  bron2e,  or  other  base  metaL 
The  amalgam  is  spread  out  on  the  surface  of  the  object 
by  means  of  a  brush,  and  the  mercury  then  driven  off 
by  the  application  of  heat,  when  a  polishable,  firmly 
adhering  film  of  the  noble  metal  remains.  Copper 
amalgam  containing  from  25  to  33  per  cent,  of  the  solid 
meta^  when  worked  in  a  mortar  at  100'  C,  becomes  highly 
plastic,  but  on  standing  in  the  cold  for  ten  or  tw-elve  hours 
becomes  hard  and  crystalline.  Hence  it  is  used  for  the 
stuffing  of  teeth.  A  certain  amalgam  of  cadmium  is 
similarly  employed. 

Oxiilts. — There  are  two  oxides  of  mercury,  namely,  an  oxide, 
HgjO,  called  mcrcurons,  aad  another,  HgO,  called  mercnrfo  oxide. 
The  latter  can  be  produced  directly  by  keeping  the  metal  for  a  long 
tune  in  air  at  a  temperature  somewhat  below  its  boilin?  point, 
vften  the  oxide  is  gradually  formed  as  a  red  powdery  Eolid.  This 
wild  has  long  been  known  as  "  ted  precipitate."  or  as  menurius 

16—3 


prcteipitalut  per  ae.  Priestley  made  the  important  JiscoTery  that 
the  "  precipitate  "  whcu  heated  to  dnll  redness  is  reduced  to  metal, 
with  evolution  of  what  has  since  been  known  os  oxygon  gas  ;  but  it 
was  reserved  for  Lavoisier  to  con-ectly  interpret  this  experiment 
and  thus  to  establish  our  present  views  on  the  constitution  of 
atmospheric  air.  The  oxide  is  easily  prcjared  by  htating  any 
nitrate  of  the  metal  as  loug  as  nitrous  fumes  are'  seen  to  go  olf 
(when  it  remains  as  a  scaly  mass,  black  when  hot,  red  after  cooling), 
or  else  by  precipitating  the  solntiou  of  a  mercuric  salt  with  excess 
of  caustic  potash  or  soda,  when  it  comes  down  as  au  omori>hous 
yellow  jirecinitatc,  which  is  free  of  coinbiucd  water.  Wercurous 
oxide,  a  black  solid,  can  be  obtained  only  indircctlv,  by  the  decom- 
position of  mercurous  salts  with  fixed  caustic  alkalies.  Botli  oxides 
are  insoluble  in  water,  but  dissolve  in  certain,  and  combine  with 
allj  aqueous  acids  with  formation  of  merciiry  salts  and  elimination 
of  water.  .  Thus,  for  instance. 


The  nitrates. — Wlien  metallic  mercury  is  set  aside  with  its  own 
weight  of  nitric  acid  of  1  -2  specific  gravity,  at  ordinary  tempera- 
tures, the  normal  mercurous  salt  Hg„(X03).;  is  gradually  produced, 
and  after  a  day  or  two  is  found  to  have  separated  out  in  colourless 
crystals.  These  are  soluble  (somewhat  sparinglv)  in  water  acidu- 
lated with  nitric  acid,  but  are  decomposed  by  tho  action  of  pun: 
water,  with  formation  of  difficultly  soluble  basic  salts.  *\\  hen 
this  salt  (or  the  metal  itself)  is  treated  with  excess  of  nitric  acid  it 
is  oxidized  into  mercuric  nitrate  Hg(N03)j,  a  white  crj-stalliue  salt, 
readily  soluble  in  water  without  decomposition. 

The  Sidphfitis. — Cold  aqueous  sulphuric  acid  does  not  act  upon 
mercury,  but  the  hot  concentratea  acid  converts  it  first  into 
mercurous  and  then  into  mercuric  sulnhate,  with  evolution  of 
sulphurous  acid. 

Hgj  +  2H^0,  -  2H.0  +  SOj  +  HgjSOj , 
Hg^O,  +  2HjS0,  -  2H,0  +  SO,  +  2HgS0< . 

Both  salts  form  white  crj-stalline  magmas.  The  mercurous  salt 
is  difficultly  soluble  iu  water,  and  consequently  producible  by 
precipitation  of  the  nitrate  with  sulphuric  acid.  The  mercuric  salt, 
when  treated  with  .vater,  is  decomposed  with  formation  of  a  yellow 
insoluble  basic  salt,  which  has  long  been  known  as  turpelhum  mine- 
rede.  Its  composition  is  SOj.  3HgO  when  produced  by  excess  of 
hot  water.  Mercuric  sulphate  is  of  importance  chiefly  as  forming 
the  basis  for  the  manufacture  of  the  two  chlorides. 

Th£  Chlorides.  — These  are  both  extensively  used  medicinal  agents. 
The  mercuric  salt,  HgCIj,  known  in  medicine  as  corrosive  stib- 
limate,  is  prepared  by  mixing  the  sulphate  intimately  with  common 
salt,  and  subjecting  the  mixture  to  sublimation,  a  little  biuoxide 
of  manranese  being  added  to  oxidize  the  mercurous  salt,  which  is 
generally  present  as  an  impurity.  The  process  is  conducted  in  a 
glass  flask  buried  in  a  hot  sand-betlt.  'W'tien  the  decomposition  in 
accomplished,  the  sand  is  removed  from  the  upper  half  of  the  flask 
and  the  temperature  raised  so  that  the  chloride  HgCl,  produced 
sublimes  np  and  condenses  in  the  upper  part  as  a  "sublimate." 
The  salt,  as  thus  produced,  forms  compact  crystalline  crusts,  which, 
when  heated,  melt  into  a  limpid  liquid  before  volatilizing.  It  is 
soluble  in  water,  100  parts  of  which  at  10°,  20°,  100°  dissolve  6-57. 
7-39,  54  parts  of  salt  Corrosive  sublimate  dissolves  in  3  parts  of 
alcohol  and  in  4  parts  of  ether.  This  salt,  on  account  of  its 
solubility  in  water,  is  a  deadly  poison,  llercurous  chloride,  HgjCl-, 
better  known  as  "calomel"  (from  koAos,  fair,  and  /icAiu,  black, 
because  it  becomes  dead-black  when  treated  with  ammonia,  mer- 
curic chloride  yieldin"  a  white  product),  is  prepared  by  mixing 
corrosive  sublimate  with  the  proper  proportion  of  metallic  mercury 
(HgCl,  :  Hg)  or  mercuric  sulphate  witli  salt  and  mercury  in  the 
proportions  of  HgSO^  :  Hg  :  2NaCl,  and  subjecting  the  mixture  to 
sublimation  in  glass  Hasks.  The  salt  Hg„Clj  is  thus  obtained  in 
the  form  of  white,  opaque,  crystalline  crusts,  which,  when  heated, 
volatilize,  without  previously  melting,  into  a  mLxture  of  HgCl, 
and  Hg  vapour,  which,  on  cooling,  recorabine  into  calomel.  For 
medicinal  purposes  the  sublimate  is  reduced  to  an  impalpable 
powder,  washed  with  water  to  remove  any  corrosive  sublimate  that 
may  be  present,  and  dried.  Being  insoluble  in  water,  it  acts  far 
less  violently  on  the  organism  than  mercuric  chloride  does.  Its 
action,  no  doubt,  is  due  to  its  very  gradual  conversion  in  the 
stomach  into  mercury  aud  corrosive  sublijnate.  Finely  divided 
calomel  can  be  produced,  without  trouble,  by  the  precipitation  of  a 
solution  of  mercurous  nitrate  with  hydrochloric  acid  or  common 
salt ;  but  this  preparation  is  liable  to  be  contaminated  with 
mercurous  nitfcte,  and,  even  when  pure,  has  been  found  to  act  far 
mon;  violently  than  ordinary  calomel  docs.  Hence  its  use  is  not 
tol.erated  by  the  pharmacopoeias.  According  to  ^Vohler  a  mercurous 
chloride,  more  nearly  equivaleut  to  the  sublimed  article,  is  produc- 
ible by  heating  corrosive  sublimate  solution  with  sulphurous  arid — 
aHgClj + H^,  -f  H,0  -  HjSO,  +  2HC1 H-  Hg,Cl, . 


34 


m  E  R  C  U  R  Y 


The  writct  'is  unable  to  say  whether  "W'bhler's  calomel  has  over 
founU  its  way  unywhero  into  medicinal  practice. 

The  lodid'-.b. — The  mercuii\.  Rfllt  HgL  is  produced  iu  two  ways, 
viz.,  first  by  mixing  the  two  elementary  components  intimately 
and  suljjucting  the  mixture  to  sublimation,  and  secondly  by  pro- 
cipitating  corrosive  sublimate  solution  with  its  exact  equivalent  of 
iodide  of  potassium.  In  the  fii-st  case  the  salt  is  obtained  in  yellow 
crystals,  which,  on  the  slightest  touch  with  a  solid  bodj',  assume 
and  then  permanently  ret.iin  a  rich  scarlet  colour.  The  precipita- 
tiOQ  process  at  once  yields  the  scarlet  salt.  The  salt  is  insoluble 
in  water,  but  soluble  in  alcohol  and  in  iodide  of  potassium  solution. 
Tiie  mercurous  salt  Hgjij  is  obtained  by  precipitating  mercurous 
nitrate  with  iodide  of  potassium  as  a  dirty-greeu  powder  iusoluble 
in  water.      Both  iodides  are  used  medicinally. 

The  Sulphides,— 'Mcvcnxom  sulphide,  HggS,  does  not  seem  to 
exist.  The  mercuric  salt,  HgS,  exists  in  two  modifications,  of 
which  one  is  amorphous  and  has  a  black  colour,  while  the  other  is 
crystalline  and  rod.  The  black  one  is  obtained  by  precipitation  of 
solutions  of  mercuric  salts  with  excess  of  sulphuretted  hydrogen, 
or  by  direct  synthesis.  The  right  proportions  of  mercury  and 
flowers  of  sulphur  are  rubbed  together  in  a  mortar  until  the  whole 
Is  converted  into  a  jet-black  uniform  powder.  This  preparation 
(the  xtkiops  mincralis  of  the  pharmaceutist),  however,  is  apt  to  be 
contaminated  with  uucombinod  sulphur  and  mercury.  Application 
of  a  gentle  heat  causes  exhaustive  combination.  The  red  sulphide, 
HgS,  occurs  in  nature  as  cinnabar,  and  can  be  produced  artificially 
from  the  black.  The  artificial  preparation,  known  as  vermilion,  is 
highly  valued  as  the  most  brilliant,  stable,  and  innocuous  of  all 
mineral  red  jiigments.  Vermilion  can  bo  produced  fi'ora  the  black 
sulphide  in  two  ways,  viz.,  first  by  sublimation,  and  secondly  by 
treatment  of  it  with  fixed  alkaline  sulphide  solution.  According 
to  Bruuner,  100  parts  of  mercury  are  mixed  intimately  with  38  parts 
of  flowers  of  sulphur,  and  the  aethiops  is  digested,  with  constant 
agit-ation,  in  a  solution  of  25  parts  of  potash  in  150  parts  of  water  at 
45°  0.  (the  water  lost  by  evaporation  being  constantl}'  replaced),  until 
the  preparation  has  corae  up  to  its  maximum  of  fire  and  brilliancy, 
which  takes  a  goorl  many  hours.  Purely  sublimed  vermilion  has  a 
comparatively  dull  colour,  and  must  be  manipulated  with  alkaline 
sulphide  solution  to  give  it  the  necessary  fire.  The  action  of  the 
alkaline  sulphide  consists  probably  in  this,  that  it  dissolves  succes- 
sive instalments  of  the  amorphous  preparation  and  redeposits  them 
in  the  crystalline  form. 

Mercuric  Derivatives  of  Ammonia. — (1)  Recently  precipitated 
oxide  HgO  is  digested,  cold,  in  cavbonic-acid-free  ammonia,  and 
the  mixture  allowed  to  stand  for  a  few  days.  The  liquor  is  then 
decanted  off,  and  the  precipitate  washed  with  alcohol  and  then 
with  ether,  and  dried  over  sulphuric  acid.  The  product  is  a 
yellow  solid  base  ("  Millon's  base ' )  of  the  composition 

NaHg  +  4HgO  +  H.O  =  NaHg^O .  2H,0  +  2H2O . 

It  is  insoluble  in  alcohol  and  in  ether,  and  requires  13,000  parts 
of  cold  water  for  its  solution.  It  readily  unites  with  all  acids, 
forming  salts,  which,  as  a  rule,  are  insoluble  in  water.  Hence  all 
ordinary  salt  solutions,  when  shaken  with  the  base,  are  decomposed 
with  elimination  of  the  base  of  the  salt.  Thus,  for  instance,  even 
such  salts  as  alkaline  nitrates,  chlorides,  or  sulphates  are  decom- 
posed with  formation  of  solutions  of  caustic  alkali. 

(2)  A  body  N2Hgjl3  +  2H20,  i.e..,  of  the  composition  of  the  iodide 
corresponding  to  the  oxide  in  (1),  is  produced  as  a  brown  precipitate 
whftn  ammonia  or  an  ammonia  salt  is  added  to  a  solution  of  mercuric 
iodide  in  iodide  of  potassium  mixed  with  large  excess  of  caustic 
potash  or  soda  ("  Nessler's  reagent").  In  very  dilute  solutions  of 
ammonia  Nessler's  reagent  produces  only  a  brown  or  yellow  color- 
ation, which,  however,  is  so  intense  that  iniiro'oooo^^b  of  ammonia  in 
about  60  cubic  centimetres  of  liquid  becomes  clearly  visible. 

(3)  The  chloride  NHaHg.Cl  of  the  "  ammonium  "  NH„Hg  is 
produced  as  an  insoluble  white  precipitate  when  ammonia  is  added 
to  a  solution  of  corrosive  sublimato.  This  substance  is  kntjwn  in 
medicine  as  infusible  white  precipitate,  in  contradistinction  to  (4) 

(4")  The  fusible  white  precipitate  was  at  one  time  supposed  to  be 
identical  with  (3),  and  is  obtained  by  boiling  it  with  sal-ammoniac 
solution.  Its  composition  is  NHoHgCl  +  NH^Cl^NaHe.  Hg.  CL. 
Analysis. — Any  ordinary  solid  mercury  compound,  when  heaisd 
in  a  Sliblimation  tube  with  carbonate  of  soda,  yields  a  sublimate  of 
metallic  mercury,  which,  if  necessary,  needs  only  to  be  scraped 
together  wilh  a  wooden  spill  to  unite  into  visible  globules.  From  any 
raercpry-salt  solution  the  mptal  is  precipitated  by  digestion  with  a 
piec^ot  bright  copper-foil.  The  precipitated  mercury  forms  a  coat- 
ing on  the  copper,  which  becomes  silvery  on  being  rubbed  with 
blotting  pai>er.  When  the  quicksilvered  copper  is  heated  in  a  sub- 
iini"*ion  tuoe,  il  roassumes  its'red  colour  with  formation  of  a  sub- 
limate of  mercury. 

Solutions  i;f  mercurous  salts  with  hydrochloric  acid  give  a  white 
precipitate  of  calt^nn.'!,  which,  after  filtration,  is  easily  identified  by 
its  becoming  jot-blaok  on  troatmont  with  ammonia.  From  mercuric 
solutions  hydrochloric  acid  precipitalos  nothing:  but  stannous 
'dJoride.  iu  its  twofold  capacity  as  u  chloride  aud  a  reduciu;;  agenl^ 


yields  a  precipitate  of  calomel.  On  addition  of  qu  excess  of  reagent 
the  precipitate  becomes  grey  through  conversion  into  finely  divided 
quicKsilver.  Sulphuretted  hydrogen,  when  added  very  gradually 
to  an  acid  mercuric  solution,  gives  at  first  an  almost  white  precipi- 
tate, which,  on  addition  of  more  and  more  reagent,  assumes  suc- 
cessively a  yellow,  orange,  and  at  last  jet-black  colour.  The  black 
precipitate  is  HgS,  which  is  identified  by  its  great  heaviness, 
and  by  its  being  insoluble  iu  boiling  nitric  and  in  boiling  hydro- 
chloric acid.  A  miiture  of  the  two  (aqua  regia)  dissolves  it  aa 
chloride.  (W.  D.) 

Therapeutics  of  Mercury. 

The  use  of  mercury  as  a  therapeutic  agent  is  of  com- 
paratively recent  date.  To  the  Greeks  and  Romans  ita 
value  was  unkno^\'n,  and  the  Arabian  physicians  only  used 
it  for  skin  affections.  It  was  not  till  tile  middle  of  the 
16th  century  that  the  special  properties  of  mercury  were 
fully  appreciated,  but  since  that  time  the  metal  has  con- 
tinued to  hold  a  high  though  fluctuating  value  as  a  • 
medicine.  At  first  the  metal  in  a  finely  divided  state  or 
in  vapour  was  used ;  but  very  soon  its  various  compounds 
were  found  to  be  endowed  with  powers  even  greater  than 
those  of  the  metal  itself,  and  with  the  discovery  of  new 
compounds  the  number  of  mercurial  medicines  has  largely 
increased. 

The  preparations  now  in  use  may  be  thus  classified.  (1) 
Of  the  preparations  containing  metallic  mercury  the  chief 
members  are  blue  pill  (pilula  hydrargyri),  grey  powder 
(hydrargyrum  cum  creta),  and  blue  ointment  (unguentum 
hydrargyri).  The  first-  consists  of  mercury,  liquorice  root, 
and  coniection  of  roses,  the  second  of  mercury  and  chalk, 
the  third  of  mercury,  suet,  and  lard.  The  power  of  the 
tliree  preparations  seems  to  depend  on  the  fine  state  of 
subdivision  of  the  mercury  they  contain ;  mercui*y  in  its 
ordinary  liquid  state  seems  devoid  of  medicinal  properties. 
It  is  thought  by  some  that  the  fine  subdivision  of  the 
metal  leads  to  the  formation  of  a  little  oside,  aud  that  the 
efficacy  of  the  preparations  in  part  depends  on  this.  (2) 
Three  oxides  of  mercury  are  employed  in  medicine, — the 
red,  from  which  \s>  made  red  precipitate  ointment  (ungueu- 
tum  hydrargyri  oxydi  rubri),  the  yellow,  an  allotropic  form 
of  the  red,  and  the  black  oxide.  The  yellow  and  black 
oxides  suspended  in  lime  water  form  respectively  yellow 
and  black  wash  (lotio  flava  and  lotio  nigra).  (3)  The 
chlorides  of  mercury  form  a  very  important  group : 
calomel  (hydrargyri  subcUloridum)  is  a  white  heavy 
powder ;  corrosive  sublimate  (hydrargyri  perchloridum)  is 
a  heavy  crystalline  substance,  (4)  Two  iodides  are  used 
medicinally ;  they  are  known  from  their  colour  as  the 
green  and  red  iodides.  (5)  Nitrate  of  mercury  enttjrs  into 
the  composition  of  a  powerful  caustic  known  as  the  acid 
nitrate  of  mercury.  It  is  also  the  active  pjrinciple  of  citrine 
ointment  (unguentum  hydi-argyri  nitratis).  (6)  In  this  class 
only  ammoniated  mercury  and  ita  ointment  commonly 
known  as  white  precipitate  ointment,  are  contained.  Of 
the  many  compounds  not  included  in  the  above  classifica- 
tion the  oleate  and  albuminate  are  the  most  important. 

Mercurial  preparations  are  largely  employed  as  external  appli- 
cations. Several  of  them  are  potent  agents  for  the  destruction  of 
the  lower  forms  of  animal  life,  and  hence  are  employed  to  destroy 
parasites  having  their  habitat  in  skin,  hair,  and  clothing.  The 
while  and  red  precipitate  ointments  are  specially  effective"  in  the 
destruction  of  pediculi,  and  blue  ointment  is  occasionally  used  for 
the  same  purpose.  Corrosive  sublimate  is,  however,  the  most 
energetic  of  the  mercurial  parasiticides,  and  recent  observations 
seem  to  show  that  it  is  sujierior  to  almost  all  other  substances  as 
a  germ  destroyer.  It  is  sometimes  used  to  get  rid  of  ringworm- 
It  should  be  remembered  that  corrosive  sublimate  is  a  powerf"' 
irritant  to  the  skin,  and  also  an  active  poison. 

Acid  nitrate  of  mercury  is  a  caustic,  aud  by  it  warts  and  small 
growths  are  soraetimea  removed  ;  it  is  also  ono  of  the  caustics  occa- 
sional 1 /applied  to  prevent  the  spread  of  lupus. 

In  skin  diseases  mercurial  preparations  are  larcely  used,  especially 
in  some  forms  of  eczema.  A  few  grains  of  the  red  oxido  or  of 
ammoniated  mercury  in  an  ounce  of  zinc  ointment 'are  often  found 
of  great  service  in  this  ailment ;  citrino  ointm-jnt  is  also  uscfuL 


M  E  R  — M  E  R 


35 


Ctlomel  ointment  is  not  irritating,  but  ratlier  tends  to  soothe.  It 
is  therefore  sometimes  applied  to  irritable  rashes  ;  in  pruritus  ani 
it  is  of  special  value.  Mercurial  preparations  are  not  -usually  found 
of  benefit  in  scaly  eruptions.  In  acne  a  neak  solution  of  contteiTe 
gnblimate  is  often  most  effective. 

Preparations  of  mercury  are  often  used  to  heal  ulcers,  especially 
those  of  syphilitic  origin.  Black  wash  is  one  of  the  commonest 
applications  for  this  purpose.  The  red  o.xide  ointment  is  at  times 
employed  to  stimulate  indolent  ulcei^,  and  it  is  capable  of  remov- 
ing exuberant  granulations  (proud  flesh),  which  sometimes  retard 
the  healing  of  wounds. 

Mercury  is  largely  used  externally  to  promote  the  absorption  of 
inflammatory  products,  especially  in  the  neighbourhood  of  joints. 
The  blue  ointment  is  frequently  employed  for  this  purpose,  more 
rarely  a  plaster  containing  mercury  or  a  mercurial  liniment.  For 
effecting  the  absorption  of  goitre  (Derbyshire  neck)  the  ointment 
of  the  red  iodide  is  often  relied  on,  especially  in  India,  where  it  is 
customary  to  expose  the  patient's  neck  to  the  sun  after  rubbing  it 
with  the  ointment.  In  enlargements  of  the  liver  and  spleen  the 
application  of  mercurial  ointment  sometimes  seems  to  promote  I'e- 
duction  in  size. 

Taken  internally  in  continued  doses,  mercury  produces  a  peculiar 
effect  known  as  salivation.  First  a  metallic  taste  is  c.tperienced ; 
this  is  followed  by  soreness  of  the  gums,  an  undue  flow  of  saliva, 
and  foetor  of  the  breath.  Further  administration  of  the  drug  may 
increase  greatly  the  salivary  flow,  and  also  lead  to  swelling  of  <the 
tongue,  ulceration  of  the  mouth,  and  even  disease  of  the  jaw-bone. 
At  the  same  time  the  blood  becomes  impoverished,  and  feverishness 
with  loss  of  flesh  occurs.  A  single  large  dose — rarely  too.a  single 
small  dose — may  produce  some  of  the  above  symptoms.  They  may 
also  follow  the  inlialation  of  the  metal  or  its  compounds,  or  their 
absorption  through  the  skin.  The  long-continued  inhalation  of 
the  vapour  of  mercury  acts  likewise  on  the  nervons  system,  caus- 
ing a  jieculiar  kind  of  trembling.  Mercurial  tremor  is  sometimes 
seen  in  looking-glass  makers,  often  in  those  who  work  in  quick- 
silver mines. 

Internally  mercury  is  chiefly  given  for  two  purposes — (1)  to 
check  inflammation  and  cause  tho  absorption  of  the  products  it 
gives  rise  to,  and  (2)  to  antagonize  the  syphilitic  virus  and  remove 
the  evils  it  causes.  Some  years  ago  the  belief  in  the  power  of 
mercury  to  control  inflammation  was  almost  universal,  and  it  was 
largely  administered  in  almost  all  inflammatory  affections,  but  of 
late  it  has  been  much  less  used,  both  because  it  seems  doubtful 
whether  it  has  really  the  power  it  was  once  supposed  to  have  and 
because- of  ■  the  possibility  of  evil  results  from  its  continued  use- 
In  peritonitis  and  iritis  it  is  still  often  employed,  small  doses  of 
calomel  being  given.  Not  unfreqnently  too  it  is  administered  in 
i<;ricarJitis  and  hepatitis,  but  in  pneumonia,  pleurisy,  and  most 
other  inflammatory  affections  its  use  is  now  discarded  by  many 
jhysicians.  As  an  antidote  to  the  syphilitic  poison  it  is  still  held 
in  high  esteem,  though  opinions  vary  much  as  to  the  extent  of  its 
power.  There  can  be  little  doubt  that,  given  in  an  early  stage  of 
the  disorder,  it  minimizes  the  secondary  symptoms  ;  but  it  cannot 
be  relied  on  to  prevent  their  occurrence.  It  aids  in  removing  the 
secondary  symptoms,  and  tends  to  the  avoidance  of  tertiary 
manifestations,  which  nevertheless  sometimes  occur  even  when 
mercury  has  been  freely  given.  The  custom  of  giving  mercury 
till  profuse  salivation  is  established  has  long  been  abandoned; 
the  aim  now  is  so  to  give  it  as  to  prevent  salivation  occurring  ;  for 
this  purpose  blue  pill,  calomel,  and  corrosive  sublimate  are  given 
in  very  small  doses,  but  if  the  gums  become  tender  the  dose  is 
decreased  or  the  administration  stopped. 

Mercurial  treatment  is  sometimes  carried  out  by  rubbing  the  blue 
ointment  into  the  skin,  sometimes  by  exposing  the  patient  to-  the 
fumes  of  calomel  ;  syphilitic  eruptions  are  often  treated  by  such 
fumigation.  More  rarely  mercury  is  introduced  by  injecting  the 
albuminate  or  some  other  preparation  under  the  skin  or  by  means  of 
suppositories.  In  children  grey  powder  is  generally  used  when  mer- 
curial treatment  is  required.     Children  bear  mercury  well. 

Blue  pill,  calomel,  and  grey  powder  are  often  used  as  purgatives, 
and  a  power  of  promoting  the  'secretion  of  bile  is  attributed  to 
them.  Experimentally  it  has  not  been  proved  that  they  stimu- 
late the  liver  functions,  but  there  is  good  reason  for  believing  that 
they  promote  the  expulsion  of  bile  from  the  body.  Grey  powder  is 
especially  valued  as  a  mild  and  efficient  aperient  for  clularen,  and 
is  often  given  in  the  early  stage  of  diarrhoea  to  expel  the  irritating 
contents  of  the  bowel. 

The  use  of  calomel  in  tropical  dysentery,  once  very  prevalent,  has 
within  the  last  few  years  been  abandoned.  (D.  J.  L. ) 

MERGANSER,  a  word  originating  with  Gesner  {ffist. 
Animalium,  m.  p.  129)  in  1555,  and  for  a  long  while  used 
in  EngUah  as  the  general  name  for  a  group  of  fish-eating 
Dujiks  possessing  great  diving  powers,  and  forming  the 
genus  ifergua  of  Linnaeus,  now  regarded  by  ornithologists 
M  a  Subfamily,  Utrginss,  of  the  Family  Anatida.    The 


Mergansers  have  a  long,  narrow  bill,  with  a  small  but 
evident  hook  at  the  tip,  and  the  edges  of  both  man- 
dibles beset  by  numerous  homy  denticiSations,  whence  in 
English  the  name  of  "  Saw-biU "  is  frequently  applied  to 
them.  Otherwise  their  structure  does  not  much  depart 
from  the  Anatine  or  FuUguline  type.  .All  the  species  bear 
a  more  or  less  developed  crest  or  tuft  on  the  head.  Three 
of  them,  Mergui  merganser  or  castor,  M.  serraior,  and  M. 
albellus,  are  found  over  the  northern  parts  of  the  Old 
World,  and  of  these  the  first  two  also  inhabit  North 
America,  which  has  besides  a  fourth  species,  M.  cxicuUatut, 
said  to  have  occasionally  visited  Britain.  M.  merganser, 
commonly  known  as  the  Goosander,  is  the  largest  speciea/ 
being  nearly  as  big  as  the.  smaller  Geese,  and  the  adult 
male  in  breeding-attire  is  a  very  beautiful  bird,  conspicuous 
with  his  dark  glossy-green  head,  rich  salmon-coloured 
breast,  and  the  upper  part  of  the  body  and  wings  black 
and  white.  This  fuU  plumage  is  not  assulned  till  the 
secon^  year,  and  in  the  meantime,  as  well  as  in  tl»  poet- 
nuptial  dress,  the  male  much  resembles  the  female,  having, 
like  her,  a  reddish-brown  head,  the  upper  parts  greyish- 
brown,  and  the  lower  dull- white.  In  this  condition  the  bird 
is  often  known  as  the  "  Dun  Diver."  This  species  breeds 
abundantly  in  many  parts  of  Scandinavia,  Russia,  Siberia, 
and  North  -America,  and  of  la-te  years  has  been  found  to  do 
so  in  Scotland,  usually  making  its  nest  in  the  stump  of  a 
hollow  tree  or  under  a  slab  of  rock.  M.  serrator,  com- 
monly called  the  Red-breasted  Merganser,  is  a  somewhat 
smaller  bird ;  and,  while  the  fully-dressed  male  wants  the 
delicate  hue  of  the  lower  parts,  he  has  a  gorget  of  rufous 
mottled  -with  black,  below  which  is  a  patch  of  white 
feathers,  broadly  edged  -with  black.  The  male  at  other 
times  and  the  female  always  much  resemble  the  preceding. 
It  is  more  nunaerous  than  the  Goosander,  with  a  somewhat 
more  southern  range,  and  is  not  so  particular  in  selecting 
a  sheltered  site  for  its  nest.  Both  these  species  have  the 
bill  and  feet  of  a  bright  reddish-orange,  while  M.  albellwi, 
kno-wn  as  the  Smew,  has  these  parts  of  a  lead  colour,  and 
the  breeding  plumage  of  the  adult  male  is  white,  with  quaint 
crescentic  markings  of  black,  and  the  flanks  most  beauti- 
fidly  vermiculated — the  female  and  male  in  undress  having 
a  general  resemblance  to  the  other  two  aheady  described 
— but  the  Smew  is  very  much  smaller  in  .'rize,  and,  so  far 
as  is  known,  it  invariably  makes  its  nest  in  a  hollow  tree, 
as  ascertained  first  by  Wolley  {Ibis,  1859,  pp.  69  rf  seq.). 
This  last  habit  is  shared  by  M.  cucullatm,  the  Sooded 
Merganser  of  North  .America,  in  size  intermediate  between 
M.  alhellus  and  M.  serrator,  the  male  of  which  is  easily 
recognizable  by  his  broad  semicircular  crest,  bearing  a  fan- 
shaped  patch  of  white,  and  his  elongated  subscapulars  of 
white  edged  with  black.  The  conformation  of  the  trachea 
in  the  male  of  M.  merganser,  M.  serrator,  and  M.  cucuUatus 
is  very  like  that  of  the  Ducks  of  the  genus  Clangula,  but 
M.  albellus  has  a  less  exaggerated  development  more 
resembling  that  of  the  ordinary  Fuligula}  From  the 
southern  hemisphere  two  species  of  Mergus  have  been 
described,  M.  ocioseiacetts  or  hrasilianus,  VieUlot  {N.  Diet. 
dHist.  Xaturelle,  ed.  2,  xiv.  p.    222;  Gal.  des   OUeanx, 


*  Hybrids  between,  as  is  presumed,  M.  albellus  and  Clangula 
glaucum^  the  common  Golden-eye,  have  been  described  and  figured 
(Eirabeck,  IHs,  1831,  300,  tab.  iii.  ;  Brehra,  Nalurgtsch.  alter  Vsg. 
DetUscklaruU,  p.  930 ;  Neumann,  VGg.  Deuischlands^  xii.  p.  194, 
frontispiece  ;  Kjserbolling,  Jour.  /Ur  Omithologie,  1853,  Extraheft, 
p.  29,  Naumannia,  1853,  p.  327,  OmitJwL  Danica,  tab.  Iv.,  spppl. 
tab.  29)  under  the  names  of -3/eryu5  ano^aniw,  Clangula  angustirostris, 
and  Anas  (Clangula)  mergoides,  as  though  they  were  a  distinct  species ; 
but  the  remarks  of  M.  de  Selys-Longchamps  {BulL  Ac.  Sc.  Bruxelles^ 
1845,  pt.  ii.  p.  354,  and  1856,  pt.  U.  p.  21)  leave  little  room  for  doubt 
as  to  their  origin,  which,  when  the  cryptogamic  habit  and  common 
range  of  their  putative  parents,  the  former  unknown  to  the  author  last- 
named,  is  considfxed,  will  seem  to  be  still  more  likely. 


36 


M  E  R  — M  E  R 


torn,  ii.  p.  209,  pL  283),  inhabiting  South  America,  of 
which  but  few  specimens  have  been  obtained,  having  some 
general  resemblance  to  M.  serrator,  but  much  more  darkly 
coloured,  and  M.  australis,  Hombron  and  Jacqu6mont 
(Ann.  Sc.  Nal.  Zodogie,  ser.  2,  xvi.  p.  320 ;  Voy.  au  Pol 
Slid,  Oiaeaux,  pL  31,  fig.  2),  as  yet  known  only  by  the  unique 
example  in  the  Paris  Museum  procured  by  the  French 
Antarctic  expedition  in  the  Auckland  Islands.  This  last 
species  may  perhaps  be  found  to  visit  Nevr  Zealand,  and 
should  certainly  be  looked  for  there. 

Often  associated  with  the  Mergansers  is  the  genus 
ilerganetta,  the  so-called  Torrent-Ducks  of  South  America, 
of  which  three  species  are  said  to  exist ;  but  they  possess 
spiny  tails  and  have  their  wings  armed  with  a  spur. 
WTiether  they  should  be  referred  to  the  Merginas  or  the 
Erismaiurinx — the  Spiny-tailed  Ducks  proper — is  a  ques- 
tion that  further  investigation  must  decide.  (a.  n.) 

MERGUI,  a  district  of  British  Burmah,  between  9°  58' 
and  13°  24'  N.  lat.  It  forms  the  southernmost  district  of  the 
Tenasserim  division,  and  is  bounded  on  the  N.  by  Tavoy, 
E.  and  S.  by  Siam,  and  W.  by  the  Bay  of  Bengal,  with 
an  area  of  7810  square  miles.  Two  principal  ranges  cross 
Mergui  from  north  to  south,  running  almost  parallel  to 
each  other  for  a  considerable  distance,  with  the  Tenasserim 
river  winding  between  them  till  it  turns  south  and  flows 
through  a  narrow  rocky  gorge  in  the  westernmost  range 
to  the  sea.  Amongst  these  mountain  ranges  and  their 
subsidiary  spurs  are  several  fertile  plains,  densely  clothed 
with  luxuriant  vegetation.  Indeed,  the  whole  district,  from 
the  water's  edge  to  the  loftiest  mountain  on  the  eastern 
boundary,  may  be  regarded  as  almost  unbroken  forest,  only 
73  square  miles  being  under  culthi'ation.  The  timber  trees 
found  towards  the  interior,  and  on  the  higher  elevations, 
are  of  great  size  and  beauty,  the  most  valuable  being  teak, 
ihen-gan  (ffopea  odorata),  ka-gnyeng  [Diplerocarpiis  tuber- 
tulatus),  &c.  The  coast-lino  of  the  district,  studded  vrith 
»n  archipelago  of  two  hundred  and  seven  islands,  is  much 
broken,  and  for  several  miles  inland  is  very  UttlS  raised 
above  sea-level,  and  is  drained  by  numerous  muddy  tidal 
creeks.  Southv/ards  of  Mergui  town  it  consists  chiefly  of 
low  mangrove  swamps  alternating  with  small  fertile  rico 
plains.  After  passing  the  mangrove  limits,  the  ground  to 
the  east  gradually  rises  till  it  becomes  mountainous,  even 
to  the  banks  of  the  rivers,  and  finally  culminates  in  the 
grand  natural  barrier  dividing  British  Burmah  from  Assam. 
The  four  principal  rivers  are  the  Tenasserim,  Le-gnya, 
Pakchan,  and  Palouk,  the  first  three  being  navigable  for  a 
considerable  distance  of  their  course.  Coal  is  found  in  the 
district  on  the  banks  of  the  Tenasserim  and  its  tributaries. 
Gold,  copper,  iron,  and  manganese  are  also  found  in  various 
parts  of  the  district. 

From  the  notices  of  early  travellers  it  appears  that  Mergui,  when 
under  Siamese  rule,  before  it  passed  to  the  IJurmeso,  was  a  rich  and 
densely  peopled  country.  On  its  occupation  by  tlie  British  in 
1824-25  it  was  found  to  be  almost  depopul.atcd — the  result  of 
border  warfare  and  of  the  cruelties  exercised  by  the  Burmese  con- 
querors. At  that  time  the  entire  inhabitants  only  numbered  10,000  ; 
in  1876  they  had  increased  to  61,846  (26,767  males  and  25,079 
females).  Classified  according  to  religion,  there  were — Buddhists, 
48,750  ;  Mohammedans,  2533  ;  Hindus,  353  ;  Christians  and  others, 
210.  The  district  contains  only  one  town  (Mergui)  with  more  than 
5000  inhabitaNts.  Only  73  square  miles  of  the  district  area  were 
nnder  cultivation  in  1876,  but  this  area  is  steadily  though  slowly 
increasing.  The  principal  manufactures  are  sugar-boiling  and.tin- 
amelting.  Mergui  carries  on  a  flourishing  trade  with  Rangoon, 
Bassein,  and  the  Straits  Settlements.  The  chief  cvports  consist 
of  rice,  rattans,  torches,  diicd  fish,  nreca-nuts,  sesaunun  seeds, 
molasses,  sea-slugs,  edible  birds'  nests,  and  tin.  The  staple  imports 
are  piece  goods,  tobacco,  cotton,  earthouwaro,  tea,  and  sugar.  The 
imperial  revenue  in  1876  amounted  to  £18,208.  The  climate  is 
remarkably  healthy,  the  heat  duo  to  its  tropical  situation  being 
raoderateil  by  land  and  sea  breezes.  The  rainfall  in  1876  amounted 
to  165^  inches.  The  prevalent  diseases  are  simple  and  remittent 
fevers^  bronchitis,  rheumatism,  and  small-pox. 


Mekoiji,  chief  town  of  the  above  district,  is  situated 
on  an  island  at  the  mouth  of  the  Tenasserim  river.  The 
population  (10,731  in  1876-77)  consists  of  many  races — 
Talaings,  Burmese,  Malays,  Bengalis,  Madrasis,  Siamese, 
and  Chinese.  Considerable  trade  is  carried  on  with  other 
Burmese  ports  and  the  Straits  Settlements.  ,  The  harbour 
admits  vessels  drawing  18  feet  of  water. 

MfiRIDA,  a  city  of  7390  inhabitants  (1877),  in  the 
province  of  Badajoz,  Spain,  lies  about  36  miles  by  rail 
eastward  from  Badajoz,  on  the  Madrid  and  Bj^Jajoz  line, 
on  a  small  eminence  on  the  right  bank  of  the  Guadiana. 
It  is  connected  by  a  branch  line  of  rail  with  Llerena  on 
the  south-east.  The  population  is  mostly  agricultural. 
The  city  owes  its  interest  entirely  to  its  Roman  remains, 
which  are  numerous  and  extensive.  Of  these  one  of  the 
most  important  is  the  bridge  of  8 1  arches  of  granite,  erected 
by  Trajan ;  it  is  2575  feet  long,  26  feet  broad,  and  35  feet 
above  the  bed  of  the  river ;  it  was  unfortunately  seriously 
injured  diu'ing  the  siege  of  Badajoz  in  1812.  Of  the 
colossal  wall  that  formerly  surrounded  the  town  all  that 
remains  is  a  fine  fragment,  built  of  dressed  stone,  on  the 
spot  formerly  occupied  by  the  castellum,  and  where  the 
provisor  of  the  order  of  Santiago  afterwards  had  his 
residence  (El  Conventual).  In  the  town  are  some  relics  of 
temples  of  Diana,  Mars,  Fortuna,  Jupiter,  and  others  ;  and 
the  Arco  do  Santiago,  44  feet  high,  also  dates  from  Trajan's 
time;  it  has  unfortunately  been  stripped  of  its  marble 
casing.  '  Of  the  aqueduct  from  the  kguna  of  Albuera 
thirty-seven  enormous  piers  are  still  standing,  with  ten 
arches  in  three  tiers  built  of  brick  and  granite.  To  the 
east  of  the  city  is  the  circus,  measuring  some  1356  by  335 
feet ;  the  eight  rows  of  seats  still  remain.  Further  east- 
ward is  the  almost  perfect  theatre,  and  near  it  are  the 
remains  of  the  amphitheatre,  or,  as  some  prefer  to  call  it, 
naumachia  (Bano  de  los  Romanos). 

Augusta  Emcrita  was  built  in  25  B.C.  by  the  emeriti  of  the* fifth 
and  tenth  legions  who  had  served  in  the  Cantabrian  war  under 
Augustus.  It  rose  to  great  splendour  and  impoi-tance  as  the  capital 
of  Lusitania.  During  the  Gothic  period  it  became  an  episcopal  see, 
and  several  provincial  councils  known  to  history  were  held  ther«. 
It  was  taken  by  Mtisa  in  711,  and  reconquered  by  Alphonso  in  1228. 

MERIDA,  the  capital  of  the  Mexican  state  of  Yucatan, 
stands  in  a  great  plain  in  the  north  of  the  peninsula,  on  a 
surface  of  limestone  rock,  about  25  miles  from  the  port  of 
Progreso  on  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  with  which  it  is  connected 
by  a  railway  opened  in  1880.  It  is  a  well-built  city,  with 
broad  streets  and  squares  ;  and  the  flat-roofed  stone  houses, 
after  the  style  introduced  by  the  Spaniards,  give  a  Moorish 
colour  to  the  general  view.  Besides  the  cathedral,  an  im- 
posing edifice  of  the  16th  century,  the  bishop's  palace,  and 
the  Government  house  (all  of  which  are  situated  in  the  prin- 
cipal square!  the  most  notable  building  is  the  Franciscan 
monastery  (1547-1 600),.  which  once  harboured  within  its 
high  and  turretetl  walls  no  fewer  than  two  thousand  friars, 
but  has  been  allowed  to  fall  into  complete  decay  since 
their  expulsion  in  1820.  For  a  long  time  Merida  has  had 
the  reputation  of  being  one  of  the  principal  seats  of  culture 
in  Blexico ;  and  it  possesses,  besides  the  ecclesiastical 
seminary,  schools  of  law,  medicine,  and  pharmacy,  a  literary 
institute,  a  public  library,  a  theatre,  and  a  considerable 
number  of  periodical  publications.  Commercially  it  has 
shared  in  the  prosperity  which  Yucatan  in  recent  years  owes 
to  the  development  of  the  Sisal  hemp  trade  ;  and  its  manu- 
factures embrace  cotton  goods,  cigars,  sugar,  and  rum.  The 
population,  estimated  about  ,1840  as  25,000,  was  found 
in  1871  to  number  33,025.  The  Mayas  still  form  numeri- 
cally the  strongest  element.  Previous  to  tho  Spanish 
conquest  the  site  of  Merida  was  occupied  by  the  Maya 
town  of  Tehoo,  which  contained  so  great  a  number  of 
artificial  etone-mounds  that  the  new-comers  had  abundant 
material  for  all  their  buildings.     The  foundation  of  the 


M  E  R.^M  E  R 


37 


ciW'dates  froia*  1542,  and  it  was  made  a  bishopric  in 
J  561^    Compare  Stephen's  Tttcatan. 

MERIDEN,  a  city  of  the  United  States,  in  New  Haven 
county,  Connecticut,  18  miles  from  New  Haven  by  rail 
It  is  a  busy  manufacturing  town ;  the  population  has 
increased  from  3559  in  1850  to  7426,  10,495,  and  1.8,340 
in  1860,  1870,  and  1880.  The  Britannia  Company  alone 
employs  upw'ards  of  1000  hands,  and  sends  out  every  year 
nearly  $3,000,000  worth  of  Britannia  metal  and  electro- 
plated goods ;  and  tin-ware,  cutlery,  brass-work,  flint  glass, 
gur.8,  and  woollen  goods  are  also  manufactured  in  the  town. 
The  State  reform  school  had  307  inmates  in  1880.  A 
fortified  tavern  erected  by  Belcher  in  1660  on  the  road 
between  Boston  and  New  Haven  was  the  nucleus  of 
Meriden ;  but  the  place  was  not  incorporated  as  a  town  till 
1866,  and  became  a  city  in  1867. 

JlfiRLMBE,  Peospee  (1803-1870),  novelist,  archseo- 
logist,  essayist,  and  in  all  these  capacities  one  of  the 
greatest  masters  of  French  style  during  the  century,  was 
bom  at  Paris  on  September  28,  1803,  and  died  at  Cannes 
on  the  23d  of  the  same  month  sixty-seven  years  later, 
having  lived  just  long  enough  to  know  that  ruin  was 
threatening  France.  Not  many  details  have  been  published 
in  reference  to  his  family,  but  his  father  seems  to  have 
been  a  man  of  position  and  competence.  M^rim^e  had 
English  blood  in  his  veins  on  the  mother's  side,  and  was 
always  considered,  at  least  in  France,  to  look  and  behave 
mora  like  an  Englishman  than  a  Frenchman.  He  was 
educated  for  the  bar,  but  entered  the  public  service  instead. 
A  young  man  at  the  time  of  the  romantic  movement,  he 
felt  its  influence  strongly,  though  his  peculiar  tempera- 
ment prevented  him  from  joining  any  of  the  c6teries  of  the 
period.  This  temperament  was  indeed  exhibited  by  the 
very  form  and  nature  of  the  works  in  which  he  showed 
the  influence  of  romanticism.  Nothing  was  more  prominent 
among  the  romantics  than  the  fancy,  as  M^rimte  himself 
puts  it,  for  "  local  colour,"  the  more  unfamiliar  the  better. 
M^rim^e  exhibited  this  in  an  unusual  way.  In  1825  he 
published  what  purported  to  be  the  dramatic  works  of  a 
Spanish  lady,  Clara  Gazul,  with  a  preface  stating  circumstan- 
tially how  the  supposed  translator,  one  Joseph  L'Estrange, 
had  met, the  gifted  poetess  at  Gibraltar.  This  was  followed 
by  a  still  more  audacious  and  still  more  successful 
supercherie.  In  1827  appeared  a  small  book  entitled  La 
Guda  (the  anagram  of  Gazul),  and  giving  itself  out 
as  translated  from  the  lUyrian  of  a  certain  Hyacinthe 
Maglanovich.  This  book,  which  has  greater  formal  merit 
than  Clara  Gazul,  is  said  to  have  taken  in  Sir  John  Bow- 
xing,  a  competent  Slav  scholar,  the  Russian  poet  Poushkin, 
and  some  German  authorities,  although  not  only  had  it  no 
original,  but.  as  M^rim^e  declares,  a  few  words  of  Illyrian 
and  a  book  or  two  of  travels  and  topography  were  the 
author's  only  materials.  In  the  next  year  appeared  a  short 
dramatic  romance.  La  Jacquerie,  in  which  all  Mirimee's 
characteristics  are  visible — his  extraordinary  faculty  of 
local  and  historical  colour,  his  command  of  language,  his 
grim  irony,  and  a  certain  predilection  for  tragic  and  terrible 
subjects  which  was  one  of  his  numerous  points  of  contact 
with  the  men  of  the  Renaissance.  This  in  its  turn  was 
followed  by  a  still  better  piece,  the  Chronigue  de  Charles 
IX.,  which  stands  towards  the  16th  century  much  as  the 
Jacquerie  does  towards  the  Middle  Ages.  All  these  works 
were  to  a  certain  extent  second-hand,  being  either  directly 
imitated  or  prompted  by  a  course  of  reading  on  a  particular 
mbject. .  But  they  exhibited  aU  the  future  literary  qualities 
of  the  author  save  the  two  chiefest,  his  wonderfully  severe 
and  almost  classical  style,  and  his  equally  classical  solidity 
and  statuesqueness  of  construction.  For  the  latter  there 
was  not  much  opportunity  in  their  subjects,  and  the  former 
required    a    certain   maturity  amd    self-discipline  which 


M^rim^e  had  not  yet  given  to.  himself.  These  were, 
however,  displayed  fully  in  the  famous  Corsican  story  of 
Colombo,  published  in  the  momentous  year  1830.  Tliis, 
all  things  considered,  is  perhaps  Merimie's  best  tale. 

He  had  already  obtained  a  considerable  position  in 
the  civil  service,  and  after  the  revolution  of  July  he  was 
chef  de  cabinet  to  two  different  ministers.  He  was  then 
appointed  to  the  more  congenial  post  of  inspector  of 
historical  monuments.  M^rimfe  was  a  born  archaeologist, 
combining  linguistic  faculty  of  a  very  unusual  kind  with 
the  accurate  scholarship  which  does  not  always  accompany 
it,  with  remarkable  historical  appreciation,  and  with  a  sincere 
love  for  the  arts  of  design  and  construction,  in  the  former 
of  which  he  had  some  practical  skilL  In  his  official 
capacity  he  published  numerous  reports,  some  of  which, 
with  other  similar  pieces,  have  been  republished  in  his 
works.  He  also  devoted  himself  to  history  proper  during 
the  latter  years  of  the  July  monarchy,  and  published 
numerous  essays  and'  works  of  no  great  length,  chiefly  on 
Spanish,  Russian,  and  ancient  Roman  history.  He  did 
not,  however,  negleet  novel  writing  during  this  period,  and 
numerous  short  tales,  almost  without  exception  master- 
pieces, appeared,  chiefly  in  the  Seirue  de  Paris.  He  travelled 
a  good  deal,  both  for  his  own  amusement  and  on  official 
errands ;  and  in  one  of  his  journeys  to  Spain,  about  th« 
middle  of  Louis  Philippe's  reign,  he  made  an  acquaintanca 
destined  to  influence  his  future  life  not  a  little — that  of 
Madame  de  Montijo,  mother  of  the  future  empress  Eugenie^ 
M^rim^e,  though  in  manner  and  language  the  most 
cynical  of  men,  was  a  devoted  friend,  and  shortly  before  the 
accession  of  Napoleon  IIL  he  had  occasion  to  show  this. 
His  friend  Libri  was  accused  of  having  stolen  valuable 
manuscripts  and  books  from  French  libraries,  and  M^rim^ 
took  his  part  so  warmly  that  he  was  actually  sentenced 
to  and  underwent  fine  and  imprisonment.  He  hai^  been: 
elected  of  the  Academy  in  1844,  and  also  of  the  Academy, 
of  Inscriptions,  of  which  he  was  a  prominent  member. 
Between  1840  and  1850  he  wrote  more  tales,  the  chief 
of  which  were  Arsetie  Guillot  and  Carmen. 

The  empire  made  a  considerable  difierence  in  M^rim^'ai 
life.  He  was  not  a  very  ardent  politician,  but  all  hia 
sympathies  were  against  democracy,  and  he  had  therefore 
no  reason  to  object  to  .the  Bonapartist  nile,  especially  aa 
his  habitual  cynicism  and  his  irreligious  prejudices 
made  legitimism  distasteful  to  him.  But  the  marriage 
of  Napoleon  HI.  ■with  the  daughter  of  Madame  de 
Montijo  at  once  enlisted  what  was  always  the  strongest  of 
M6rim^e'3  sjTnpathies — the  sympathy  of  personal  friend- 
ship— on  the  emperor's  side.  He  was  made  a  senator,  and 
continued  to  exercise  his  archaeological  functions  ;  but  his 
most  important  role  was  that  of  a  constant  and  valued 
private  friend  of  both  the  "master  and  mistress  of  the; 
house,"  as  he  calls  the  emperor  and  empress  in  his  letters; 
He  was  occasionally  charged  with  a  kind  of  irregular 
diplomacy,  and  once,  in  the  matter  of  the  emperor's 
Cmsar,  he  had  to  pay  the  penalty  frequently  exacted  from 
great  men  of  letters  by  their  political  or  social  superiors 
who  are  ambitious  of  literary  reputation.  But  for  the 
most  part  he  was  strictly  the  "  ami  de  la  maison."  ■  Ati 
the  Tuileries,  at  Compifegne,  at  Biarritz,  he  was  a  con^ 
stant  though  not  always  a  very  willing,  guest,  and  his 
influence  over  the  empress  was  very  considerable  and  Was 
feaflessly  exerted,  though  he  used  to  call  himself,  in  imitar 
tion  of  Scan-on,  "  le  boirSon  de  sa  majesty."  His  occupax 
tions  during  the  last  twenty  years  of  his  life  were  numerous 
and  important,  though  rather  nondescript.  He  found, 
however,  time  for  not  a  few  more  tales,  of  which  more  will 
be  said  presently,  and  for  two  correspondences,,  which  are 
not  the  least  cf  his  literary  achievements,  while  they  have 
an  extraordinaiT  interest  of  matter. ._  One  of  these  conaista 


38 


M  E  K  — M  E  R 


of  the  letters  wliich  have  been  published  as  Lettres  a  une 
Inconnne,  the  other  of  the  letters  addressed  to  Sir  Antonio 
Panizzi,  the  late  librarian  of  the  British  Museom.  Various, 
though  idle  and  rather  impertinent,  conjectures  have  been 
made  as  to  the  identity  of  the  inconnue  just  mentioned. 
It  is  sufficient  to  say  that  the  acquaintamce  extended  over 
many  years,  that  it  partook  at  one  time  of  the  character 
of  love,  at  another  of  that  of  simple  friendship,  and  that 
Mdrim^e  is  exhibited  under  the  most  surprisingly  diverse 
lights,  most  of  them  more  or  less  amiable,  and  all  interest- 
ing. The  correspondence  with  PanLzzi  has  somewhat  less 
personal  interest.  M^rim.iSe  made  the  acquaintance  origin- 
ally by  a  suggestion  that  his  correspondent  should  buy  for 
the  Museum  some  MSS.  which  were  in  the  possession  of 
Stendhal's  sister,  and  for  some  years  it  was  ckiefly  confined 
to  correspondence.  But  M(5rimi$e  often  visited  England, 
where  he  had  many  fdends  (among  whom  the  late  Mr 
EUice  of  Glengarry  was  the  chief),  and  certain  similarities 
of  taste  drew  him  closer  to  Panizzi  personally,  while  during 
part  of  the  empire  the  two  served  as  the  channel  for  a 
kind  of  unofficial  diplomacy  between  the  emperor  and 
certain  English  statesmen.  These  letters  are  full  of  shrewd 
aperpis  on  the  state  of  Europe  at  different  times.  Both 
series  abound  in  gossip,  in  amusing  anecdotes,  in  sharp 
literary  criticism,  while  both  contain  evidences  of  a  cynical 
and  Rabelaisian  or  Swiftian  humour  which  was- very  strong 
in  M&'imfe.  This  characteristic  is  said  to  be  so  prominent 
in  a  correspondence  with  another  friend,  which  now  lies  in 
the  library  at  Avignon,  that  there  is  but  little  chance  of  its 
ever  being  printed.  A  fourth  collection  of  letters,  of  much 
Inferior  extent  and  interest,  has  been  printed  by  M.  Blaze 
de  Bury  under  the  title  of  Lettres  a  une  autre  Inconnue. 
In  the  latter  years  of  his  life  Mi!rim(5e  suffered  very  much 
from  ill  health.  It  was  necessary  for  him  to  pass  all  his 
winters  at  Cannes,  where  his  constant  companions  were  two 
aged  English  ladies,  friends  of  his  mother.  The  terrible 
year  fouud  him  corhpletely  broken  in  health,  and  anticipating 
the  worst  for  France.  He  lived  long  enough  to  see  his  fears 
realized,  and  to  express  his  grief  in  some  last  letters,  and 
he  died  on  September  23,  1870. 

Merim^e's  character  (which  has  been  unwarrantably  slandered 
by  those  to  whom  political  differences  or  his  sarcastic  istolerance 
of  '•  posG  "  in  literature  made  hiru  obnoxious)  was  a  peculiar  and  in 
some  respects  an  unfortunate  one,  but  by  no  means  unintelligible, 
and  perhaps  iu  a  minor  degree  not  uncommon  Partly  by  tempera- 
meut,  partly  it  is  said  owing  to  some  chihiish  experience,  when  he 
discovered  that  be  had  been  duped  and  determined  never  to  be  so 
again,  not  least  owing  to  the  example  of  Beyle,  who  was  a  friend 
of  his  family,  and  of  wliom  he  saw  much,  Merimee  appears  at  a 
comparatively  early  age  to  have  imposed  upon  himself  as  a  duty  the 
maintenance  of  an  attitude  of  sceptical  indifference  and  sarcastic 
criticism.  He  certainly  succeeded.  Although,  as  has  been  said,  a 
man 'of  singularly  warm  and  affectionate  feelings,  he  obtained  the 
credit  of  being  a  cold-hearted  cynic  ;  and,  although  he  was  both 
independent  and  disinterested,  be  was  abused  as  a  hanger-on  and 
toad-eater  of  the  imperial  court.  Both  imputations  were  wholly 
undeserved,  and  indeed  were  prompted  to  a  great  extent  by  the 
resentment  felt  by  his  literary  equals  on  the  otbor  side  at  the  cool 
ridicule  with  which  he  met  them.  But  he  deserved  in  some  of  the 
bad  as  well  as  many  of  the  good  senses  of  the  term  the  phrase  which 
we  have  applied  to  him  of  a  man  of  the  Renaissance.  He  had  the 
warm  partisanship  and  amiability  towards  friends  and  the  scorpion- 
like  sting  for  his  foes,  he  had  the  ardent  delight  in  learning  and 
especially  in  matters  of  art  and  belles  lettres;  he  had  the  scepticism, 
the  voluptuousness,  the  curious  delight  in  the  contemplation  of  tho 
horrible,  which  marked  tho  men  of  letters  of  the  humanist  pcried. 
Like  them  he  was  a  man  of  the  world,  and  a  man  who  without  any 
baseness  liked  a  king's  palace  better  than  a  philosopher's  hovel. 
Like  them  he  had  an  acute  judgment  in  matters  of  business,  and  like 
them  a  shigular  consciousness  of  the  nothingness  of  things.  Even  his 
literary  work  has  this  Renaissance  character.  It  i.s  tolerably  ex- 
tensive, amounting  to  some  seventeen  or  eighteen  volumes,  but  its 
bulk  is  not  great  for  a  life  which  was  not  short,  and  which  was 
occupied  at  least  nominally  in  little  else.  About  a  third  of  it  con- 
sists of  the  letters  already  mentioned,  which  will  always  be  to 
those  who  delight  in  personal  literature  the  most  attractive  part, 
and  which,  ili"ii;;U  iu  a  fragmentary  fashion,  are  really  important 


.13  throwing  side  lights  on  history.  Kather  more  than  another  third 
consists  of  the  ofhcial  work  which  has  been  already  alluded  to — 
reports,  essays,  short  historical  sketches,  the  chief  of  which  latter  is 
a  history  of  Pedro  the  Cruel,  and  another  of  the  curious  pretender 
known  in  Russian  story  as  the  false  Demetrius.  Some  of  the 
literary  essays,  such  as  those  on  Beyle,  on  Turguenief,  &c.,  where 
a  personal  element  enters,  are  excellent.  Against  others  and  against 
the  larger  liistorical  sketches — admirable  as  they  are — M.  Taine's 
criticism  that  they  want  life  has  some  force.  They  are,  however, 
all  marked  by  Merimee'sadniirablestylc,  by  his  sound  and  accurate 
scholarship,  hia  strong  intellectual  grasp  of  whatever  he  handled, 
his  cool  unprejudiced  views,  his  marvellous  faculty  of  designing  and 
proportioning  the  treatment  of  his  work.  It  is,  however,  in  the 
remaining  third  of  his  work,  consisting  entirely  of  tales  either  in 
narrative  or  in  dramatic  form,  and  esjiecially  in  the  former,  that  his 
full  power  is  perceived.  He  translated  a  certain  number  of  things 
(chieHy  from  the  Russian) ;  but  his  fame  does  not  rest  on  these,  on 
his  already-mentioned  youthfill  supercheries,  or  on  his  later  semi- 
dr.imatic  works.  There  remain  about  a  score  of  tales  extending  131 
point  of  composition  over  exactly  forty  years,  and  in  length  ironi 
that  of  Colomba,  the  longest,  which  fills  about  one  hundred  and  fifty 
pages,  to  that  of  V EnUvement  de  la  EcdoiUc,  which  fills  just  half 
a  dozen.  They  are  unquestionably  the  best  things  of  their  kind 
written  during  the  century,  the  only  noiivetles  that  can  challeuge 
comparison  with  them  being  the  very  best  of  Gautier,  and  one  or 
two  of  Balzac.  The  motives  are  sufficiently  different.  In  Colombo. 
and  Mateo  Falcone,  the  Corsicau  point  of  honour  is  drawn  on  ;  in 
Carmen  (written  apparently  after  reading  Borrow's  Spanish  books), 
the  gipsy  character  ;  in  La  Venus  d'lUc  and  Lokis  (two  of  the 
fiuest  of  all),  certain  grisly  superstitious,  in  the  former  case  that 
kuown  in  a  milder  fcH'm  as  the  ring.giveu  to  Venus,  in  the  latter  a 
variety  of  the  were-wolf  fancy.  Arsinc  Gnillol  is  a  singular  satire 
full  of  sarcastic  pathos  on  popular  niorahty  and  religion  ;  Ln 
Chamhre  JBleuc,  an  18th-century  conic,  worthy  of  CrebiUon  for 
grace  and  wit,  and  superior  to  him  in  delicacy  ;  The  Capture  0/  tJu- 
itcdouH  just  mentioned  is  a  perfect  piece  of  desciiption  ;  L'Abb6 
Anhain  is  again  satirical  ;  La  Double  Meprise  (the  authorship  of 
which  was  objected  to  Blerimee  when  he  was  elected  of  the 
Academy)  is  an  exercise  in  analysis  strongly  impreg^nated  with 
the  spirit  of  Stendhal,  but  better  written  than  anything  of  that 
writer's.  These  stories,  with  his  lettei-s,  assure  lleriniee's  ])lace  in 
literature  at  the  very  head  of  the  French  prose  writers  of  the  century. 
He  had  undertaken  an  edition  of  Brantome  for  the  Bibliothfeque 
Elzevirienne,  but  it  was  never  completed. 

Blerimee's  works  have  only  been  gradually  published  since  his 
death.  The  latest.  The  Letters  to  Panizzi,  which  have  also  ap- 
peared in  English,  bears  date  1881.  There  is  as  yet  no  uniforDi 
or  handsome  edition,  but  almost  everything  is  obtainable  iu  the 
collections  of  Mfif.  Charpentier  and  Calmann  Levy.  (G.  SA.) 

MERINO.     See  Sheep  and  Wool. 

MERIONETH  (Welsh  Meiiionydd),  a  maritime  county 
of  North  Wales,  is  bounded  N.  by  Carnarvon  and  Denbigh, 
S.E.  by  Denbigh  and  Montgomery,  and  W.  by  Cardigan 
Bay.  It  is  triangular  in  shape,  its  greatest  length  north- 
east to  south-west  being  45  miles,  and  its  greatest  breadth 
north-west  to  south-east  about  30 miles.  The  area  is  385,291 
acres,  or  about  600  square  miles.  Next  to  Carnarvon,  Meri- 
oneth is  the  most  mountainous  county  in  Wales.  If  the 
scenery  is  less  bold  and  striking  than  that  of  Carnarvon, 
it  excels  it  in  richness,  variety,  and  picturesque  beauty. 
Its  lofty  mountains  are  interpenetrated  by  dark  deep  dells 
or  smiling  vales.  The  outlines  of  its  rugged  crags  are 
softened  and  adorned  by  rich  foliage.  The  sea  views  are 
frequently  fine,  and  rivers,  lakes,  and  waterfalls  add  a 
romantic  charm  to  the  valleys.  The  highest  summits  in 
the  county  are  the  picturesque  Cader  Idris  (which  divides 
into  three  peaks, — one,  Pen-y-Gadair,  having  an  altitude  of 
2914  feet),  Aran  Fawddwy  (2955),  Arenig-fawr  (2818), 
Moel-wyn  (2566),  Rhobell-fawr  (2360).  The  finest  valleys 
are  those  of  Dyfi,  Dysyni,  TalylljTi,  Mawddach,  and  Festi- 
niog.  The  river  Dyfrdwy  or  Dee  rises  10  miles  north-west 
of  Bala,  and,  after  passing  through  Bala  Lake,  flows  north- 
east by  Corwen  to  Denbighshire.  The  Dyfi  rises  in  a  small 
lake  near  Aran  Fawddwy,  and  expands  into  an  estuary 
of  Cardigan  Bay.  The  Mawddach  or  Maw,  from  the 
north  of  Aran  Fawddwy,  has  a  course  of  12  miles  south- 
west, during  which  it  is  joined  by  several  other  stream.s. 
Tlie  DwjTyd  and  other  streams  unite  in  forming  the 
estuary  of  Traeth  Bach.     The  finest  waterfalls  are  th« 


M  E  R— M  E  R 


39 


Rhaiadi-y-GIyn  near  Corwen,  Rhaiadr  Du,  and  Pistyll 
Cain,  the  latter  150  feet  high.  The  lakes  are  very 
numerous,  but  small,  the  largest  being  Bala  Lake,  or  Pim- 
blemere  (in  Welsh,  Llyn  Tegid,  fair  lake),  i  miles  long  by 
1  broad,  and  Llyn  Mwyngil  (lake  in  a  sweet  nook)  in  the 
Tale  of  Taly  11)11.  Both  are  much  frequented  by  anglers. 
On  account  of  frequent  indentations  the  coast-line  is  about 
100  miles  long.  Sandy  beaches  intervene  between  the 
rocky  shores  Frequent  shoals  and  sandbanks  render 
navigation  very  dangerous.  There  are  only  two  harbours 
of  importance,  Barmouth  and  Aberdovey. 

A  mountain  tract  of  the  county  15  miles  from  north  to 
south  by  10  from  east  to  west,  stretching  from  the  coast 
inland,  is  of  the  Cambrian  age,  composed  of  grits,  quartzose, 
and  slates,  and  comprising  the  Merionethshire  anticlinal. 
This  tract  is  enclosed  on  the  north,  east,  and  south  by  the 
Mencvian,  Lingula,  Tremadoc,  and  Arenig  beds,  which  are 
pierced  by  numerous  dykes  and  intrusive  masses,  mostly 
greenstone.  Rhobell-fawi-  is  one  of  the  greatest  igneous 
masses  in  the  whole  area  of  the  Lingula  beds.  The  Arenig 
beds  are  interstratified  with  and  overlaid  by  accumulations 
of  volcanic  ashes,  felspathic  traps,  or  lava  flows,  which 
form  the  rugged  heights  of  Cader  Idris,  the  Arans,  the 
Arenigs,  Manod,  and  Moel-wyn ;  and  these  are  in  turn 
overlaid  by  the  Llandeilo  and  Bala  beds,  the  latter  includ- 
ing the  Bala  limestone.  Extensive  slate  quarries  are 
worked  near  Festiniog,  mostly  underground,  in  strata  of 
the  Llandeilo  age,  giving  employment  to  about  4000  men. 
Gold,  lead,  copper,  and  manganese  have  been  obtained  in 
various  places. 

OHmau  and  Agriculture.— the  climate  varies  much  with  the 
elevation,  in  some  places  being  bleak  and  cold,  and  iu  others  re- 
Biarkably  equable  and  genial.  At  Aberdovey.  it  is  proverbially 
Kiild,  and  the  myrtle  grows  in  the  open  air.  All  attempts  to  intro- 
duce fruits  have  proved  abortive  in  most  parts  of  the  county.  The 
•oil  is  generally  thin  and  poor,  with  feitile  tracts  in  the, valleys. 
A  great  portion  of  the  moss  has  been  reclaimed  within  late  years. 

According  to  the  agricultural  returns  for  1882,  there  were  154,406 
acres,  or  considerably  less  than  half  the  total  area,  under  cultiva- 
tion. Of  this  as  much  as  119,133  acres  were  permanent  pasture, 
and  13,755  under  rotation  grasses.  Of  the  17,312  acres  under  corn 
CTops,  11,232  were  under  oats  and  '4807  under  barley.  Potatoes 
occupied  2392  acres,  and  turnips  only  1496  acres.  The  area  under 
woods  extended  to  15,049  acres. 

The  total  number  of  horses  in  1882  was  6088.  A  breed  of 
ponies  is  peculiar  to  this  county  and  Montgomeryshire.  The 
rearing  of  horned  cattle  and  dairy-tarming  are  largely  carried  on, 
but  the  number  of  cattle  (37,643)  is  considerably  under  the  average 
of  Wales  generally.  On  the  other  hand  the  nnmber  of  sheep  in 
1882  was  400,653,  a  larger  number  than  in  any  other  county  of 
Wales,  and  much  beyond  the  general  average  in  the  principality. 
They  are  a  small  hardy  breed,  which  grow  heavy  fleeces.  Goats 
frequent  the  loftier  crags. 

According  to  the  latest  return  the  number  of  proprietors  was  1695, 
possessing  303,374  acres,  with  a  gross  annual  value  of  £183,253.  Of 
the  owners  1044,  or  62  per  cent. ,  possessed  less  than  1  acre,  the 
average  extent  of  the  propei-ties  being  189  acres,  and  the  average 
value  per  acre  a  little  over  12s.  There  were  ten  proprietors  who 
possessed  over  5000  acres,  viz.,  Sir  "W.  W.  Wynn,  20,295  ;  K.  J.  L. 
Price,  17,718;  T.  P.  Lloyd,  16,975;  Mrs  Kirkby,  13,410;  Hon. 
C.  H.  Wynn,  10,604  ;  A.  J.  G.  Corbet,  9347  ;  Sir  E.  Buckley, 
8738;  W.  E.  Qakeley,  6018;  W.  0.  Gore,  5497;  and  R.  M. 
Kickards,  5701. 

Manufactures. — Woollen  goods  are  manufactured  in  various 
places,  especially  at  Dolgeily.  They  are  principally  coarse  druggets, 
kerseymeres,  and  flannels.  The  knitting  of  stockings  was  a  great 
industry  at  the  close  of  last  century,  the  value  of  the  sales  at  Bala 
being  estimated  at  from  £17,000  to  £19,000  annually. 

Railways. — The  Cambrian  Railway  skirts  the  coast  from  Port- 
madoc  to  Aberdovey.  At  Barmouth  Junction  a  branch  of  the  same 
crosses  to  Dolgeily,  where  it  is  joined  by  a  branch  of  the  Great 
Western  Railway.  Another  branch  of  the  Great  Western  unites 
Bala  and  Festiniog,  and  the  latter  place  has  railway  connexion  both 
with  Llandudno  Jonction  and  with  Portmadoe. 

Administration  arid  Population. — Merionethshire  comprises  five 
hundreds  and  thirty-three  civil  parishes.  It  has  one  court  of  quarter 
seasons,  and  the  number  of  petty  sessional  divisions  is  six.  Ecclesi- 
astically it  is  partly  in  the  diocese  of  Bangor,  partly  in  that  of  St 
Aaaph.     The  county  returns  one  member  to  parliament.  .  There  is 


no  municipal  or  parlinineutary  borough.  The  towns  returned  in 
1881  as  urban  sanitai-y  districts  are  Bala  (1663),  Barmouth  (1512),' 
Dolgeily  (2457),  Festiuiog  (11,272),  and  Towyu  (3363),  '  Since 
1801  the  population  has  nearly  doubled.  From  29,506  iu  that  year 
it  had  increased  in  1S51  to  38,963,  iu  1871  to  46,598,  and  in  1881 
to  54,793,  of  whom  27,576  wfie  males  and  27,217  females. 

History  and  Anlijuilics. —OrigiuMy  Merioneth  belonged  to  the 
territory  of  the  Ordovices,  and  under  the  Uomans  it  was  included 
in  Britannia  Secunda.  There  are  mauy  Celtic,  Roman,  and  luedi- 
leval  remains.  Caer  Drewj'n  on  the  Dee,  near  Corwen,  was  a  British 
camp.  There  are  numerous  cromlechs  in  various  parts  of  the  county. 
especially  near  the  sea-coast.  The  Fia  Occidcntatis  of  the  Romans 
passed  through  ilerioneth  from  south  to  north,  and  at  Tomen- 
y-Mur  was  joined  by  a  branch  of  the  South  Watling  Street,  the 
Castell  Tomen-y-Mur  being  supposed  to  be  identical  with  the 
Roman  station  of  Heriri  Mens.  -The  immense  ruin  of  Castel-y- 
Bere  was  originally  one  of  the  largest  castles  iu  Wales,  but  has  not 
been  occupied  since  the  time  of  Edward  1.  During  the  Wars  of  the 
Roses  the  castlo  of  Harlech,  still  a  fine  ruin,  was  held  by  the 
Lancastrians,  and  was  the  last  in  Wales  to  surrender.  Of  ecclesi- 
astical remains  the  most  importantisCymmer  Abbey,  founded  by  the 
Cistercians  in  1198,  a  very  fine  ruin  containing  architecture  of 
various  periods  from  Nonnan  to  Perpendicular.  There  are  numer- 
ous iuteiestiug  old  churches. 
MERLIN.     See  Falcon. 

MERMAIDS  AND  MERMEN,  in  the  popular  mythology 
of  England  and  Scotland,  are  a  class  of  beings  more  or  less 
completely  akin  to  man,  who  have  their  dwelling  iu  the  sea, 
but  are  capable  of  living  on  land  and  of  entering  into  social 
relations  Avith  men  and  women.'  They  are  easily  identified, 
at  least  in  some  of  their  most  important  aspects,  with  the 
Old  German  Meritninni  or  Meerfrau,  the  Icelandic  Hafgufa, 
Margygr,  and  Marmeimill  (mod.  MarbendLU),  the  Danish 
Hafmand  or  Maremind,  the  Irish  Merrow  or  Merruach, 
the  Marie-Morgan  of  Brittany  and  the  Morforwyn  of 
Wales ;  -  and  they  have  various  points  of  resemblance  to 
the  vodyauy  or  water-sprite  and  the  rusalka  or  stream-fairy 
of  Russian  mythology.  The  typical  mermaid  (who  is 
much  more  frequently  described  than  the  merman)  has  the 
head  and  body  of  a  woman,  usually  of  exceeding  loveliness, 
but  below  the  waist  is  fashioned  like  a  fish  with  scales  and 
fins.  Her  hair  is  long  and  beautiful,  and  she  is  often 
represented,  like  the  Russian  rusalka,  as  combing  it  with 
one  hand  while  in  the  other  she  holds  a  looking-glass.  At 
other  times,  like  the  rusalka,  she  is  seen  engaged  in  the 
more  prosaic  occupation  of  washing  or  beating  clothes ;  but 
this,  as,  for  example,  in  Hugh  Miller's  terrible  Loch  Slin 
legend,  is  a  sign  of  some  impending  calamity.  For  a  time 
at  least  a  mermaid  may  become  to  all  appearance  an  ordi- 
nary human  being ;  and  from  a  very  striking  Irish  legend 
("The  Overflowing  of  Lough  Neagh  and  Liban  the  Mer- 
maid," in  Joyce's  Old  Celtic  Romances)  it  is  evidpt  that  a 
human  being  may  also  for  a  time  be  transformed  into  a 
mermaid. 

The  mermaid  legends,  both  English  and  other,  may  be 
grouped  as  follows.  A.  A  mermaid  or  mermaidg  either 
voluntarily  or  under  compulsion  reveal  things  that  are  about 
to  happen.  Thus  the  two  mermaids  (merewip)  Hadebunj 
and  Sigelint,  in  the  JSibelungenlied,  disclose  his  future 
course  to  the  hero  Hagen,  who,  having  got  possession  of 
their  garments,  which  they  had  left  on  the  shore,  compel! 
them  to  pay  ransom  in  this  way.  According  to  Resenius, 
a  mermaid  appeared  to  a  peasant  of  Samsoe,  foretold  the 
birth  of  a  prince,  and   moralized  on  the  evils  of  intem- 


■'  ^  The  name  mermaid  is  compounded  of  the  A.-S.  mere,  a  lake,  and 
magd,  a  maid ;  but,  though  mere  wt/occurs  in  Beowulf,  mere-maid  docs 
not  appear  till  the  Middle  English  period  (Chaucer,  Romaunt  of  the 
Roee,  &c ).  In  Cornwall  the  tjshermen  say  merry-maids  and  merry- 
BK».  The  connexion  with  the  sea  rather  than  with  inland  waters 
appears  to  he  of  later  origin.  "  The  Mermaid  of  Martin  Meer  " 
(Roby's  Traditions  of  Lancashire,  voL  ii.)  is  an  ciample  of  the  older 
force  of  the  word;  and  such  "meer-women"  are  known  to  the 
country-folk  in  various  parts  of  England  {e.g.,  at  Newport  in  Shrop- 
shire, where  the  town  is  some  day  to  be  drowned  by  the  woman's 
agency).  '  ''>^iVK;$tff'^^f'  > 

=  See  Bliys,  "  Welsh  Fairy  Tales,"  in  T  Cymmrodor.  1881,  1882. 


40 


M  E  R  — M  E  R 


perance,  Ac.  (Kon'j  Fredmichs  den.  nndem  KriinU-e, 
Coijcnliagen,  1680,  p.  302).  B.  ••(  Mermaid  imparts 
supenuJtitrttl  powers  tn  n  human  bmiy.  Thus  in  the 
beautiful  story  -of  "  The  Old  JIan  of  Cury  "  (in  Hunt's 
Popular  Jiomances  of  the  West  of  England,  1871)  the  old 
man,  instead  of  silver  and  gold,  obtains  the  power  of  doing 
good  to  hi.^  neighbours  "by  breaking  the  spells  of  witchcraft, 
chasing  away  diseases,  and  discovering  thieves.  John 
Reid,  the  Cromarty  shipmaster,  was  more  selfish, — his 
"wishes  three"  being  that  neither  he  nor  any  of  his 
friends  should  perish  by  the  sea,  that  he  should  be  unin- 
terruptedly successful  in  everything  he  undertook,  and  that 
the  lady  who  scorned  his  love  should  scorn  it  no  more. 
C.  A  mermaid  has  some  one  under  her  protection,  and  for 
wrong  done  to  her  ward  exacts  a  terrible  penalty.  One  of 
the  best  and  most  detailed  examples  of  this  class  is  the 
story  of  the  "  Mermaid's  Vengeance  "  in  Mr  Hunt's  book 
already  quoted.  D.  A  mermaid  falls  in  love  with  a  hitman 
being,  lives  ivith  him  as  Ms  lauful  wife  for  a  time,  and  then, 
some  compact  being  unwittingly  or  intentionally  broken  by  him, 
departs  to  her  true  home  in  the  sea.  Here,  if  its  mermaid 
form  be  accepted,  the  typical  legend  is  undoubtedly  that 
of  Melusina,  which,  being  made  the  subject  of  a  fuU-fledged 
romance  by  Jean  d' Arras,  became  one  of  the  most  popular 
folk-books  of  Europe,  appearing  in  Spanish,  German, 
Dutch,  and  Bohemian  versions.  Melusina,  whose  name 
may  be  a  far-off  echo  of  the  Mylitta  (Venus)  of  the 
Phcenicians,  was  married  to  Raymond  of  Lusignan,  and 
was  long  afterwards  proudly  recognized  as  one  of  their 
ancestors  by  the  Luxembourg,  Rohan,  and  Sassenaye 
families,  and  even  by  the  emperor  Henry  \J\.  Her  story 
will  be  found  in  Baring  Gould's  Myths  of  the  Middle  Ages. 
E.  A  mermaid  falls  in  love  %Dith  a  man,  and  entices  him  to 
go  and  live  with  her  below  the  sea  ;  or  a  merman  wins  the 
afection  or  captures  the  person  of  an  earthhorn  Tnaiden. 
This  form  of  legend  is  very  common,  and  has  naturally 
been  a  favourite  with  poets.  MacphaU  of  Colonsay 
successfully  rejects  the  allurements  of  the  mermaid  of 
Corrievrekin,  and  comes  back  after  long  years  of  trial  to 
the  maid  of  Colonsay.'  The  Danish  ballads  are  especially 
full  of  the  theme  ;  as  "  Agnete  and  the  Merman,"  an  ante- 
cedent of  Matthew  Arnold's  "  Forsaken  Merman" ;  the 
"  Deceitful  Merman,  or  Marstig's  Daughter " ;  and  the 
finely  detailed  story  of  Rosmer  Hafmand  (No.  49  in 
Grimm). 

In  relation  to  man  the  mermaid  is  usually  of  evil  issue 
if  not  of  evil  intent.  She  has  generally  to  be  bribed  or 
compelled  to  utter  her  prophecy  or  bestow  her  gifts,  and 
whether  as  wife  or  paramour  she  brings  disaster  in  her 
train;  In  itself  her  sea-life  is  often  represented  as  one  of 
endless  delights,  but  at  other  times  a  mournful  mystery 
and  sadness  broods  over  it.  The  fish-tail,  which  in  popular 
fancy  forms  the  characteristic  feature  of  the  mermaid,  ia 
really  of  secondary  importance ;  for  the  true  Teutonic 
mermaid — probably  a  remnant  of  the  great  cult  of  the 
Vanir — had  no  fish-kail ;  ^  and  this  symbolic  appendage 
occurs  in  such  remote  mythological  regions  as  to  give  no 
clue  to  historical  connexion.  The  Tritons,  and,  in  the 
later  representations,  the  Sirens  of  classical  antiquity,  the 
Phcenician  Dagon,  and  the  Chaldajan  Cannes  are  all  well- 
known  examples  ;  the  Ottawas  and  other  American  Indians 
have  their  man-fish  and  woman-fi.sh  (Jones,  Traditions  of 
the  North  American  Indians,  1830);  and  the  Chinese  tell 
stories  not  unlike  our  own  about  the  sea-women  of  their 
Bouthorn  seas  (Dennis,  Folk-lore  of  China,  1875) 

Quasi-hiatorical  instances  of  the  appearance  or  capture  of 


_}' See'Leyilcn's  "Tlie   Mermaid,"  in   Sir  Walter   Scott'a   Border 
Uinstnlsy.  ■#**',' 

»  Karl  Blind,  "  New  Finds  io  ShctUsJlc  and  'Welsh  Folk-Lore,"  in 
Oenttefnan'g  Magazine,  18S11. 


mermaids  are  common  enougb,^  and  serve,  with  the  frequent 
use  of  the  figure  on  signboards  and  coats  of  arms,  to  show 
how  thoroughly  the  myth  had  taken  hold  of  the  popuUir 
imagination.'  A  mermaid  captured  at  Bangor,  on  the 
.shore  of  Belfast  Lough,  in  the  6th  century,  was  not  only 
baptized,  but  admitted  into  some  of  the  old  calendars  as  a 
saint  under  the  name  of  Murgen  (Notes  and  Queries, 
Oct.  21,  1882);  and  Stowe  (Annates,  under  date  1187) 
relates  how  a  man-fish  was  kept  for  six  months  and  mora 
in  the  castle  of  Orforde  in  Suffolk.  As  showing  how 
legendary  material  may  gather  round  a  simple  fact, 
the  oft-told  story  of  the  sea-woman  of  Edam  is  particu- 
larly interesting.  The  oldest  authority,  Joh.  Gerbrandua 
a  Leydis,  a  Carmelite  monk  (ob.  1504),  tells  (AniialeSj 
(tc,  Frankfort,  1620)  how^  in  1403  a  wild  woman 
came  through  a  breach  in  the  dike  into  Purmerlake,  and, 
being  found  by  some  Edam  milkmaids,  was  ultimately 
taken  to  Haarlem  and  lived  there  many  years.  Nobody 
could  understand  her,  but  she  learned  to  spin,  and  was 
wont  to  adore  the  cross.  Ocka  Scharlensis  (Chronijk  vam 
Friesland,  Leeuw.,  1597)  reasons  that  she  was  not  a  fiah 
because  she  could  spin,  and  she  was  not  a  woman  because 
she  could  live  in  the  sea ;  and  thus  in  due  course  she 
got  fairly  established  as  a  genuine  mermaid,  Vosmaer, 
who  has  carefully  investigated  the  matter,  enumerates  forty 
WTiters  who  have  repeated  the  story,  and  shows  that  the 
older  ones  speak  only  of  a  woman  (see  "  Beschr.  van  de 
zoogen.  Meermin  der  stad  Haarlem,"  in  Verh.  van  de.  Holl. 
Maatsch.  van  K.  en  Wet.,  part  23,  No.  1786).  As  for  the 
stuffed  mermaids  which  have  figured  from  the  days  of  Bar- 
tholomew Fair  downwards,  it  is  enough  to  mention  that 
exhibited  in  the  Turf  Coffee-house,  London,  in  1822, 
and  carefully  drawn  by  Cniikshank  (comi»re  Chambers, 
Book  of  Days). 

The  best  account  of  the  Diermaid-myth  iB  in  Baring  Gfould'« 
Mytlis  of  llu  Middle  Ages.  See  also,  besides  works  already  men- 
tioned, Pontopjtidan,  who  in  his  logically  credulous  way  collects 
much  matter  to  prove  the  existence  of  mermaids  ;  Maillet,  Tdli- 
amed,  Hague,  1765  ;  Grimm,  Deutsche  ilythologie,  L  404,  and 
Altddn.  Heldenlieder,  1811  ;  Waldron's  Description  and  Train'a 
Hist,  and  Stat.  Ace.  of  the  hie  of  Man  ;  Folklore  Society's  Record, 
vol.  IL ;  Napier,  Hist,  and  Trad.  Tales  connected  with  the  Sontk  cf 
Scotland;  Si5billot,  Traditions  de  la  Haute  Bretagne,  1882,  an4 
Conies  des  Marins,  1882.  (H.  A.  W.) 

MEROE,  in  classical  geography  (Strabo,  xrii.  2,  2  ;  Pliny, 
ii.  73,  V.  10  ;  Ptol.,  p.  201),  was  the  metropolis  of  ./Ethiopia, 
situated  on  an  island  of  the  same  name  between  the  Nile 
and  the  Astaboras  (Atbara).  The  "  island "  is  only  an 
inacciu^te  name  for  the  fertile  plain  between  the  two 
rivers.  This  Meroe,  first  mentioned  by  Herodotus  (iL  29 
sq.),  succeeded  an  older  Ethiopian  kingdom  of  Napata  lower 
down  the  Nile,  originally  subject  to  -and  civilized  from 
Egypt,  but  which  afterwards  became  independent  and  evea 
sent  forth  an  Ethiopian  dynasty  to  reign  in  Egypt,  to  whick 
the  So  and  Tirhaka  of  the  Bible  belonged  (see  Ethiopia). 
The  name  of  Meroe  in  the  form  Merawi  is  now  given  to 
Napata.  The  later  Meroe  retained  its  independence  when 
Egypt  fell  under  foreign  sovereigns.  Diodorus  (iii.  6) 
describes  it  as  entirely  controlled  by  the  priesthood  till  a 
native  prince  Ergamenes  destroyed  the  sacerdotal  caste  in 
the  time  of  Ptolemy  II.  Queen  Candace  (Acts  viii.  27) 
was  probably  sovereign  of  Meroe ;  see  Lepsius's  Letters, 
Eng.  tr.,  pp.  196,  206;  and  comp.  Strabo,  xvii.   1,  54  for 


^  Compare  the  strange  account  of  the  qnasi-human  creatures  found 
in  the  Nile  given  by  Theophylactus,  Bistorim,  viii.  16,  pp.  299-302 
of  Bekker's  ed.  •>      *«-»*  ■  .m.-:.-  '•  ■ 

*  See  the  paper  in  Jour.  Brit.  Arch.  Ass.,  xxxviii.,  1882,  by  H.  8. 
Cunuiis;,  wbe  pointji  out  that  mermaids  or  mermen  OTcur  in  the  arras 
of  Earls  Caleiton,  Howth,  and  Sandwich,  Viscounts  Boyne  and  Hood, 
Lord  Lyttleton,  and  Scott  of  Abbolsford,  as  well  as  in  those  of  th« 
Ellis,  Byron,  Pheni,  SkeBington,  and  other  families.  The  English 
heralds  represent  the  creatures  with  a  single  tail,  'the  French  and 
German  heralds  frequently  with  a  dauble  one. 


M  E  R  — M  E  R 


41 


t,  Queen  Caudaco  in  Augustus's  time  when  the  Romans 
under  Petronius  advanced  to  Napata.  Meroe  -nas  visited 
by  Greek  merchants  ;  and  the  astronomical  expedition  of 
Eratosthenes  determined  its  latitude  with  great  accuracy. 
An  exploring  party  in  the  reign  of  Nero  found  that  the 
coimtry  below  Meroe,  formerly  the  site  of  many  towns, 
had  become  almost  wholly  waste  (Pliny,  vi.  29).  From 
the  6th  to  the  14th  century  of  our  era  the  Christian 
(Jacobite)  realm  of  Dongola  occupied  the  place  of  the  older 
kingdom.  The  ruins  of  Meroe  and  Napata  were  fully 
explored  by  Lepsius-  in  1844.  and  the  monuments  are 
pictured  in  his  Dmk-miilfr. 

MERSEBURG,  the  chief  town  of  a  district  of  the  same 
name  in  the  Prussian  province  of  Sa.\ony,  is  situated  on 
the  river  Saale,  10  miles  to  the  south  of  Halle  and  17  to 
the  west  of  Leipsic.  It  consists  of  a  quaint  and  irregularly 
built  old  town,  with  two  extensive  suburb,s,  and  contains 
six  churches  and  several  schools  and  charitable  institxitions. 
The  cathedral  is  an  interesting  old  pile,  with  a  Romanesque 
choir  of  tiie  11th,  a  transept  of  the  13th,  and  a  Late  GotJiic 
nave  of  the  16th  century.  Among  its  numerous  monuments 
is  that  of  Rudolph  of  Swabia,  who  fell  in  1080  in  an 
encounter  with  his  rival  Henry  IV.  It  contains  two 
paintings  by  Lucas  Cranach.  Contiguous  to  the  cathedral 
IS  the  Gothic  chateau,  formerly  the  residence  of  the  Saxon 
princes  and  the  bishops  of  Merseburg.  The  town-house,  the 
post-office,  and  the  "  standehaus  "  for  the  meetings  of  the 
provincial  estates  are  also  noteworthy  buildings.  The 
industries  of  Merseburg  consist  of  the  manufacture  of  card- 
board and  coloured  paper,  dyeing,  glue-boiling,  machine- 
making,  calico-printing,  tanning,  and  brewing.  Its  popu- 
lation in  1880  ^vas  15,205, 

Merseburg  (i.e.,  *' march-town '*)  is  one  of  the  olilest  towns  in 
Germany.  From  the  9th' century  down  to  1007  it  was  tlie  eapitnl 
of  acountship  of  its  own  name,  and  from  968  to  1543  it  was  the  seat 
ofabisliop.  InthelOth,  llth,  and  12th  centuricsitwasa  favourite 
residence  of  the  German  emperors,  and  at  this  time  its  fairs  enjoyed 
the  importance  afterwards  inherited  by  those  of  Leipsic.  Tlie  to^vn 
was  repeatedly  visited  by  destructive  conflagrations  in  the  14th  to 
17th  centuries,  and  also  sutfered  severely  during  the  Tliirty  Years' 
War.  From  1656  to  1738  it  was  the  residence  of  the  dukes  of  Saxe- 
Merseburg.  The  great  victory  gained  by  the  emperor  Henry  I. 
over  the  Huns  in  933  is  believed  to  have  been  fought  on  the  Kousch- 
berg  near  Merseburg. 

MERTHYR  TYDFIL,  or  Mekthys  -Tydvil,  a  parlia- 
mentary borough  and  market-town  of  Glamorganshire, 
South  Wales,  is  situated  in  a  bleak  and  hilly  region  on  the 
river  Ta£E,  and  on  several  railway  lines,  25  miles  north- 
north-west  of  CardifE  and  30  east-north-east  of  Swansea. 
The  town,  which  consists  principally  of  the  houses  of  work- 
men, is  for  the  most  part  meanly  and  irregularly  bviilt,  and 
at  one  time,  on  account  of  its  defective  sanitary  arrange- 
ments, was  frequently  subject  to  epidemics  of  great  severity. 
Within  recent  years  great  i.Tiprovements  have  taken  place, 
and  the  town  now  possesses  both  a  plentiful  supply  of 
pure  water  and  an  excellent  system  of  sewage.  There  are 
also  some  good  streets  with  handsome  shops,  while  in  the 
suburbs  there  are  a  number  of  private  residences  and  villas 
inhabited  by  the  wealthier  classes.  Apart  from  its  extensive 
iron  and  steel  works,  the  town  possesses  no  feature  of 
interest.  It  is  situated  in  the  centre  of  the  South  Wales 
coal  basin,  and  the  rich  coal-mines  in  the  vicinity  supply 
great  facilities  for  the  iron  industries.  At  Merthyr  Tydfil, 
which  is  said  to  have  received  its  name  from  the  martyr- 
dom of  a  British  saint  TydfU,  there  were  smelting-works 
at  a  very  early  period,  but  none  of  any  importance  until 
1755.  From  about  forty  years  ago  until  1875  the  manufac- 
ture of  bar  iron  developed  with  great  rapidity,  but  since 
then  the  production  of  steel  has  largely  taken  its  place. 
Tha  borough  rettums  two  members  to  parliament.  The 
population  of  the  urban  sanitary  district  in  1871  was 
61,949,  and  in  1881  it  was  48,857;  the  population  of  the 


paruamentary  borough,  which  includes  the  pariah  *f  Aher- 
dare  and  parts  of  the  parishes  of  Llanwonno  and  Merthjr 
Tydfil  and  of  Vainor  (Brecon),  and  has  an  area  of  29,954 
acres,  was  in  the  same  years  97,020  and  91,347. 

MERV,  Meru,  or  MAOtrii,"  a  district  of  Central  Asia, 
situated  on  the  border-land  of  Iran  and  Turan. 

The  oasis  of  MeiT  lies  in  the  midst  of  a  desert,  in  about 
37°  30'  N.  lat.  and  62'  E.  long.  It  is  about  250  miles 
from  Herat,  170  from  Charjui  on  the  Oxus,  360  from 
Khiva,  and  175  from  Gawars,  the  nearest  point  in  the 
newly  acquired  (1881)  Russian  territoi-y  of  Akhal. 

The  great  chain  of  mountains  which,  under  the  name  of 
Paropamisus  and  Hindu-Kiish,  extends  across  the  Asiatic 
continent  from  the  Caspian  to  China,  and  forms  the  line 
of  ethnic  demarcation  between  the  Turanian  and  Indo- 
Germanic  races,  is  interrupted  at  a  single  point ;  that  point 
is  on  the  same  longitude  with  Jlerv.     Through  or  near  the 


Neighbourhood  of  Merv. 


troupe  or  gap  which  nature  has  created  flow  northward  m. 
parallel  courses  the  rivers  Heri-rud  (Tejend)  and  Murghab, 
until  they  lose  themselves  in  the  desert  of  Kara-kum — that 
large  expanse  of  waste,  known  also  as  Turcomania,  which 
spreads  at  the  northern  foot  of  the  mountains,  and  stretche* 
from  the  lower  Oxus  to  the  Caspian. 

Whether  as  a  satrapy  of  Darius  and  subsequently  as 
a  province  of  Alexander,  whether  as  the  home  of  the 
Parthian  race,  whether  as  a  bulwark  against  the  destructiT* 
waves  of  Mongol  invasion,  or  later  as  the  glacis  of  Persian 
Khorasan,  the  valleys  of  those  rivers — the  district  of  Merri 

^  Merv  is  the  modem  Persian  name.  The  river  Margus,  now  tire 
Murghab,  ou  which  was  built  the  ancient  city,  is  derived  from  Margu^ 
the  name  of  the  province  as  recorded  in  the  Behistan  inscriptions  of 
Darius.  Spiegel  connects  the  name  ilargv  with  old  Bactrian  nierepA«, 
bird,  in  allasion  to  the  numeroua  swarms  of  birds  that  gather  there. 
So,  too,  the  river  name  Murghab  means  bird-water.  The  district  ap- 
pears to  hare  been  known  in  the  5th  ceutury  as  Marv-i-rud,  so  that 
the  river  was  then  the  Marv.  The  name  Merim  for  the  district 
occura  in  the  Armenian  geography  ascribed  to  Moses  of  Khorene, 
written  probably  in  the  7th  century  (ed.  Patkanoff ).  Maonr  is  the 
Uzbek  Dame,  and  of  comparatively  recent  date. 

JV1.  _  6 


42 


]\I  E  R  V 


— have  evei'  been  imiiortant  outposts  on  the  borders  of 
Iran.  ^  Jn  bye-gone  epochs  their  banks  have,  under  powerful 
rulers,  been  .studded  with  populous  and  flourishing  cities, 
which  lx)rc-the  name  of  "  Sovereign  of  the  Universe  "  (Atero 
Skiih-i-Jelian),  and  vied  for  fame  with  "  Balkh,  the  Mother 
of  cities";  of  late  times,  with  weakness  or  absence  of  govern- 
ment, those  same  banks  have  become  choked  with  fallen 
battlements  and  ruins,  the  home  of  the  snake  and  the  jackal. 

Merv  has  soared  to  prosperity  or  fallen  to  decay  accord- 
ing to  her  political  status  at  the  moment,  and  history, 
which  repeats  itself,  may  yet  have  to  sing  her  praises"  in 
the  future  as  it  has  done  in  the  past.  All  that  human 
life  in  the  desert  requires  is  there, — water  in  abundance, 
and  a  soil  unsurpassed  for  fertility.  Good  government  is 
alone  wanting  to  turn  those  natural  gifts  to  full  account. 

The  present  inhabitants  of  the  district  are  Turcomans 
of  the  Tekke  tribe,  who,  like  the  other  tribes  inhabiting 
Turcomania,  enjoyed  until  the  approach  of  the  Russians 
virtual  independence,  and  acknowledged  allegiance  to  no 
one, — a  pastoral  people  who  eked  out  a  miserable  existence 
by  the  trade  of  passing  caravans,  and  in  bad  times  pillaged 
the  neighbouring  and  equally  barbarous  states,  to  whose 
reprisals  they  were  in  turn  subjected. 

From  the  year  1869,  the  date  of  the  establishment  of 
the  Russian  military  settlement  at  Krasnovodsk  on  the  east 
shere  of  the  Caspian,  the  wave  of  Russian  conquest  has 
gradually  swejit  eastwards  along  the  northern  frontier 
of  Persia  until  it  has  for  the  moment  stopped  at  the  outer- 
most border  of  the  Akhal  Turcoman  country,  which  was 
incorporated  in  18S1  by  Russia  as  the  result  of  the  defeat 
of  that  tribe  at  Geok  Tepe  Among  the  districts  still 
farther  east,  to  which  the  Russians  give  the  name  of 
Eastern  Turcomania,  is  that  of  the  Merv  Tekke  Turcomans, 
kinsmen  of  the  Akhal  Tekkes,  the  most  recent  of  Russia's 
subjects.  •  The  district  of  the  Merv  Tekkes  may  be  taken 
to  be  tliat  included  between  the  lower  llurghab  below 
Yulutan,  where  the  river  enters  the  plain,  and  the  Persian 
frontier  from  Sarakhs  to  Gawars. 

A  reference  to  the  map  will  show  the  strategical  import- 
ance of  this  district,  situated  at  the  point  of  meeting  of 
two  lines,  of  which  one  is  the  strategic  line  of  Russian 
advance  on  Herat  from  Krasnovodsk  to  Sarakhs,  and  the 
other  the  strategic  line  of  advance  on  the  same  place  from 
Tashkend  through  Bokliara.  The  capital  of  the  district 
is,  moreover,  the  crossing-point  of  the  Herat-Khiva  and 
Meshed-Bokhara  trade  routes. 

Consequently  'this  district,  a  solitary  oasis  in  a  vast 
desert,  guarantees  to  its  possessor  the  command  of  an 
important  avenue  between  north  and  south,  and,  in  the 
event  of  its  falling  into  Russian  hands,  will  give  that  power 
in  axldition  a  valuable  link  in  the  chain  of  connexion 
between  her  recent  acquisitions  on  the  Persian  frontier 
and  those  in  Turkestan,  the  forging  of  which  has  been 
persistently  atlvocated  by  Russian  writers  for  years  past. 
One  of  these.  Colonel  VeniukolF,  frankly  admits  that  it  is 
the  pohtical  results — "  the  consolidation  of  friendly  relations 
with  the  Turcomans " — and  not  commercial  interests 
merely,  that  are  primarily  looked  to,  and  openly  states 
that  the  forward  movement  in  Central  Asia  "cannot  end 
otherwise  than  by  the  annexation  to  Russia  of  the  whole 
of  Turan." 

Whether  by  design  or  by  the  force  of  circumstancci,  the 
recommendations  of  those  writers  have  been  translated  into 
facts,  and  Russia  with  her  advanced  post  at  Askabad  is 
now  within  400  miles  of  Herat,  which  Sir  Henry  Rawlinson 
designates  as  the  key  of  India.  The  occupation  of  the 
Merv  Tekke  country  would  bring  Russia  to  within  2.50 
miles  of  Herat.  From  Askabad  she  is  in  connexion  with 
the  Caspian  by  a  good  lino  of  communication,  part  of  which 
from  the  sea  to  Ki7.il  Aivat)  is  by  rail ;  and  hence  facilities 


are  offered  for  bringing  up  not  only  the  resources  of  the 
Caucasus  but  of  the  whole  of  European  Russia,  ^\^l^le 
Russian  troops  are  within  400  mUes  of  Herat,  the  British 
troops  at  Quctta  are  more  than  500  miles  from  Herat.' 

These  remarks  serve  to  exjilain  the  very  natural 
suspicion  with  which  Great  Britain  has  regarded  the 
occupation  one  after  another  of  important  strategical 
points  along  that  route  by  which  alone  Russia  can  strike 
at  India, — the  same  line  by  which  Naijoleon  meditated  a 
Russo-French  invasion  in  the  early  part  of  this  century. 

In  the  matter  of  Merv  and  the  neighbouring  Turcotnan  districts 
diiilomaey-h.as  not  been  idle.  As  early  as  1869,  when  an  inter- 
change of  opinions  was  taking  place  between  the  Russian  and 
British  Governments  with  respect  to  the  demarcation  of  a  neutral 
zone  between  the  two  empires.  Great  Britain  objected  to  the 
Russian  proposal  that  this  zone  should  be  Afgfianista-n,  "because 
of  tlie  near  approach  to  India  that  would  be  thereby  afforded  to 
Russian  troops  from  the  direction  of  the  Kara-kum,  the  home  of  the 
Turcomans,  of  which  Merv  is  the  central  point."  In  the  following 
year  a  Russian  diplomatist  remarked  to  the  British  ambassador  at 
St  Petersburg,  when  discussing  the  Afghan  frontier,  that  great  care 
would  be  required  in  tracing  a  line  from  Khoja  Saleh  on  the  Oxus 
to  the  south,  as  Mer\'  and  tlie  country  of  the  Turcomans  were  be- 
coming "commercially  important."  About  the  same  time  Russia 
intimated  that,  if  the  amir  of  Afghanistan  claimed  to  exercise 
sovereignty  over  the  Tekkes,  his  pretensionscould  not  be  recognized. 
After  the  Russian  campaign  aoainst  Khiva  in  1873',  and  the  sub- 
sequent operations  agahist  the  Turcomans,  the  English  foreign 
secretary  early  in  1874  called  attention  *'to  the  fears  expressed  by 
the  amir  of  Afghanistan  as  to  the  complications  in  which  he  might 
become  involved  with  Russia  were  the  result  of  a  Rilfesian  expe- 
dition against  Merv  to  be  to  drive  the  Turcomans  to  take  refuge  in 
tlie  province  of  Badghces  in  Herat."  In  reply  to  this  communi- 
cation Prince  Gortscliakoff  repeated  the  assurance  that  the  imperial 
Government  "  had  no  intention  of  sending  any  expedition  against 
the  Turcomans,  or  of  occupying  Merv."  In  1375  the  operations  of 
General  Lomakin  on  the  northern  frontier  of  Persia  led  to  represen- 
tations being  made  by  the  British  ambassador  at  the  court  of  St 
Petersburg.  To  these  Russia  replied  that  the  czar  had  no  inten- 
tion of  extending  his  frontiers  on  the  side  of  Bokhara  or  on  the 
side  of  Krasnovodsk.  Notwithstanding  the  oft-repeated  assurances 
to  the  contrary.,  large  annexations  have  been  since  made  in  Turco- 
mania by  the  Russians,  and  these  proceedings,  clearl}'  indicating 
the  persistent  prosecution  of  a  concerted  plan,  have  naturally  tended 
to  disturb  the  harmonious  relations  which  should  subsist  between 
the  two  great  civilizing  powers  of  tlie  East. 

Settlements  and  Inhabited  Centres. — Of  towns  or  even 
viUages,  fixed  centres  of  habitation,  there  are  none,  ac- 
cording to  Mr  O'Donovan,  the  latest  European  traveller 
to  Merv.  The  [iresent  political  and  military  capital  of 
Merv  is  Koushid  Khan  Kala,  a  fort  which  serves  rather  as 
a  place  of  refuge  against  sudden  attacks  than  as  a  habita- 
tion. It  is  situated  on  the  east  bank  of  the  most  westerly 
branch  of  the  Murghab,  about  2D  mdes  below  the  dam  at 
Porsa  Kala.  In  form  it  Ls  oblongj  measuring  1^  miles  long 
by  f  mile  broad,  is  constructed  entirely  of  earth,  revetted 
on  the  exterior  slope  with  smi-dried  brick ;  the  ramparts 
are  40  feet  high,  and  are  60  feet  at  the  base.  The  fort  is 
built  in  a  loop  of  the  river,  which  protects  it  on  two  sides ; 
between  it  and  the  river  is  an  "  obah,"  or  nomad  village  of 
huts  and  tents,  some  thousand  in  number,  disposed  in  rows, 
but  there  is  no  town  or  settlement. 

Twenty-five  miles  east  of  Koushid  Ivlian  Kala  lie  the 
ruins  of  the  Greek  city  of  Antiochia  Margiana,  showing 
traces  of  a  high  civilization.  According  to  Strabo  (xi.  2) 
the  Merv  oasis  at  this  period  was  surrounded  with  a  wall 
measuring  1500  stadia  (185  miles).  Mr  O'Donovan  found 
the  trace  of  the  fort  of  Iskander  to  have  been  quadrangular, 
with  a  length  of  side  of  900  yards.  This  was  probably  the 
fort  built  by  Alexander,  about  328  B.C.,  on  his  return  from 

^  ConcurrLMitly  with  the  consolidation  of  her  position  in  Turcomania, 
Russia  has  of  late  been  showing  less  military  activity  on  the  side  of 
her  Turkestan  district.  It  is  probable  that  her  recent  explorations  at 
the  sources  of  the  Oxus  have  demonstrated  the  impracticability  of 
directing  any  offensive  movement  against  India  from  that  side. 
Hence  the  line  of  strategical  advance  has  been  shifted  from  Tashkend 
to  TiUis. 


M  E  R  V 


43 


Sogdiana  after  the  capture  of  Bessus,  ^Tlie  city  was 
destroyed  in  666  A.D.  by  the  Arabs,  who  built  a  new  one, 
afterwards  known  as  Sultan  Sanjar,  about  1000  yards 
away,  and  occupying  an  area,  according  to  Mr  O'Donovan, 
of  about  600  yards  square.  The  towers  are  still  extant, 
and  inside  can  be  seen  the  ruins  of  a  most  elaborate  tomb, 
in  which  the  supposed  bones  of  Sultan  Sanjar  are  enshrined. 
It  has  always  been  a  place  of  pilgrimage  for  the  faithful. 
Not  far  to  the  south-west  lies  the  site  of  the  last  city  of 
Merv,  that  which  existed  up  to  a  hundred  years  ago, 
when  it  was  laid  waste  by  the  Bokharians.  It  bears  the 
name  of  its  gallant  defender  Bairam  Ali. 

These  three  ruins  are  all  that  remain  of  that  which 
flourished  of  yore  as  "sovereign  of  the  universe." 

At  the  time  of  the  visit  of  Burnes,  Abbott,  Shakespear, 
and  Taylour  Thomson,  about  the  fourth  decade  of  the 
century,  Merv  was  under  the  jurisdiction  of  Khiva,  and 
the  administrative  centre  was  at  Porsa  Kala,  where  the 
dam  is  situated.  This  place  is  now  also  a  waste  of  mud 
ruins,  uninhabited. 

Rivers. — The  Heri-rud  (or  Tejeud,  as  the  river  is 
named  below  Sarakhs)  runs  a  course  of  some  280  miles 
within  Afghan  borders.  On  reaching  the  Persian  fron- 
tier it  turns  north  and  forces  a  channel  through  the 
mountain  chain  near  Sarakhs.  Beyond  Sarakhs  the  river 
is  Turcoman  on  both  banks,  runs  close  to  the  Khelat 
mountains,  and  in  the  latitude  of  Askabad  loses  itself  in 
the  marshes  formed  by  the  spring  floods.  It  is  probably 
the  Ochus  of  ancient  geography,  which  watered  Nissa,  once 
the  capital  of  Parthia,  and  joined  the  Oxus  just  before 
the  latter  river  disembogued  into  the  Caspian  (Rennell's 
Herodotus).  The  Tejend  is  fordable  at  all  points  below 
Sarakhs  except  in  the  early  spring  after  the  melting  of  the 
snows.  On  the  road  from  Meneh  to  Merv  the  river  is 
sluggish,  50  yards  wide  and  4  feet  deep  in  February.  The 
river-bed  is  sunk  12  to  15  feet  below  the  level  of  the 
surrounding  country,  and  has  immense  quantities  of  drift 
wood  on  its  banks ;  trees  and  luxuriant  herbage  clothe  the 
immediate  borders.  At  midsummer  the  river  runs  nearly 
dry,  and  does  not  reach  Sarakhs.  The  Kashaf-rud,  which 
flows  near  Meshed,  is  one  of  its  chief  affluents. 

The  Murghab  takes  its  rise  in  the  northern  slopes  of  the 
Paropamisus,  and  runs  parallel  to  the  Heri-rud  at  a  distance 
of  70  miles  from  it.  On  this  river  lies  the  plain  or  oasis 
of  Merv,  irrigated  by  means  of  an  elaborate  system  of  dams 
and  canals  cut  from  the  main  river.  Beyond  the  hmits 
of  the  oasis  the  Murghab  "  hides  its  streams  in  the  sand," 
like  the  Tejend.  The  river  at  Porsa  Kala  (near  the 
principal  dam)  is  80  yards  wide,  at  Koushid  Khan  Kala  30 
to  40  yards  wide.  In  summer  it  is  much  swollen  by  the 
melting  of  the  snows,  and  its  stream  is  then  barely  fordable. 
The  water  is  yellow  in  colour  from  suspended  matter. 

Formerly  a  great  deal  of  the  coimtry,  now  a  waste, 
between  the  two  rivers  was  also  cultivated  by  the  agency 
of  water  derived  from  canals  cut  from  the  Tejend.  These 
canals  extended  to  Kucha  Kum  in  the  desert,  rendering 
the  journey  between  the  two  rivers  much  easier  than  in  the 
present  day.  From  the  Murghab  was  also  cut,  among 
others,  the  Kara-i-ab  canal,  which  ran  for  a  distance  of  40 
miles  towards  the  Tejend.  Recent  explorers  affirm  that  there 
is  no  reason  why  these  canals  should  not  be  again  filled 
from  those  rivers,  when  the  intervening  country,  "  an  argO- 
laceous  expanse"  (O'Donovan),  would  become  culturable. 

Communication. — Merv  is  surrounded  on  all  sides  by  desert.  On 
Iho  north,  we.<tt,  and  east  this  desert  is  sandy  and  arid  ;  water  is 
ezceedinffly  scarce,  the  wells  being  sometimes  60  or  70  miles  apart, 
and  easily  choked.  To  the  south  of  Merv,  between  the  nvers 
Murghab  and  Tejend,  there  are  traces  of  past  cultivation,  of  irrisating 
canals,  and  of  considerable  settlements.  Between  the  Tejena  and 
Aakabad  the  road  lies  through  a  populous  well -cultivated  country 
(Persian  territorj-)  by  way  of  Kahka  and  LutfabocL 


There  are  no  roads  in  Merv,— nothing  but  mere  tracks.  Many 
wide  and  deep  inigating  canals  have  to  be  crossed  ;  bridges  ai-e  few, 
and  bad.     The  inhabitants  cross  bv  inflated  skins. 

The  following  tracks  lead  to  thePcrsian  frontier  from  Meiv : — (1) 
via  Mahmur  or  Chuiigul  to  Lutfabad — eight  d.ays  on  camels;  (-2)  via 
Shahidii  to  MeUua— 120  wiles  ;  (3)  via  siiohidli  to  Fort  Cherkeshli 
and  Meshed, — for  85  miles  between  the  Murghab  .ind  Tejeud  there 
is  scarcolv  any  water;  (4)  via  Sarakhs  to  Jlcshed,  9  or  10  marches 
for  camels,  and,  according  to  Petrusevitch,  without  water  between 
Merv  and  Sarakhs — 120  miles. 

To  the  Afghan  frontier  lead  (1)  the  track  via  Sarakhs  and  up  the 
Heri-rud  to  Herat — fit  for  a  coach,  according  to  Sir  Charles  Mao- 
Gregor  and  Mr  Lessar  ;  and  (2)  a  practicable  track,  used  by  Abbott 
and  Shakespear,  up  the  Murghab  and  Kiishk  rivers. 

To  tlio  Oxus  in  Bokharian  tenitoiy  lead  several  tracks,  the 
chief  of  wliich  is  that  to  Charjui — nine  marches  for  camels.  Water 
is  scarce. 

To  Khiva  by  the  direct  track  is  360  miles.     Water  is  scarce. 

Population. — The  Turcomans,  according  to  Sir  Heniy  Kawliuson 
and  otliers,  are  descendants  of  the  Ghiiz  or  Komani,  a  race  of  Twrks 
who  migrated  westward  from  their  homes  in  the  Altai  before  the 
Christian  era,  and  penetrated  even  to  the  Danube.  From  sub. 
sequent  intermixture  with  Persian  and  Caucasian  peoples,  they 
exhibit  variations  from  the  true  Tartar  tj-pe.  According  to  Baron 
de  Bode  the  Turconi.in  closely  resembles  both  in  appearance  and 
in  speech  the  Nogai  Tartar  and  the  Tartar  of  Kasan  en  the  Volga. 

They  are  an  independent  race,  as  wild  and  free  as  their  native 
desert,  brave  and  very  impatient  of  control — "Wild  warriors  in 
stormy  freedom  bred ''  (Moore).  They  have  a  very  evil  reputation 
for  brigandage  and  murder,  so  much  so  that  the  Bokhaiaana  and 
Kluvans  have  a  proverb — "IE  you  meet  a  viper  and  a  Mervi,  com- 
mence by  killing  the  Merri  and  then  despatch  the  viper."  Of  late 
years  a  change  for  the  better  has- taken  place,  and  recent  travellers 
among  them  state  that  the  Mervis  show  an  inclination  to  lead  a 
more  settled  life  and  to  establish  aa  elementary  form  of  governmcu". 
(Medjliss),  and  that  it  is  no  longer  accounted  an  honour  amoug 
them  to  kill  their  neighbours.  Opium  smoking  and  arrack  drink- 
ing are  apparently  widespread  vices  (O'Donovan);  at  the  same  time 
thCT  are  described  as  clever  and  intelligent 

The  Merv  Tekkes  (like  the  Akhal  Tekkes)  are  classed  in  two  great 
divisions — the  Toktamish  and  the  Otaniish.  Each  of  these 
divisions  consists  of  two  clans,  and  each  clan  is  subdivided  into 
families.  The  two  clans  of  the  Toktamish  are  called  Beg  and 
Wakil ;  those  of  the  Otamish,  Suchmuz  and  Bukshi.  The  clans  oi 
Beg  and  Wakil  are  the  most  powerful,  and  occupy  that  part  of  the 
oasis  which  lies  on  the  right  or  east  bank  of  the  Murgnab.  The 
Suchmuz  and  Bukshi  have  their  tents  on  the  left  or  west  bank. 

There  is  no  machinery  of  government,  and  no  taxes  ar«  levied. 
Whatever  government  there  oe  is  of  a  patriarchal  nature.  Each 
family  has  a  ketkhoda  (patriarch),  who  represents  the  family  in 
matters  of  policy,  but  can  only  act  in  accordance  with  the  wishes 
of  the  clan.  The  aJcsakah,  or  grey  beards,  are  also  useful  in  settling 
intertribal  disputes,  but  they  are  tolerated  only  so  long  as  they  do 
not  aqt  in  opposition  to  the  tribesmen.  For  external  affairs  and  in 
time  of  war  the  kclkhodas  exercise  a  certain  amount  of  power.  The 
authority  of  ketkhodas  and  aksakals  is,  however,  overriden  by  the 
laws  of  custom  or  usage  (deb)  and  the  less  respected  laws  of  religion. 
The  injunctions  of  deb  are  paramount  It  sanctions  the  alamaii, 
or  plundering  raid,  and  in  general  regulates  the  Turcoman's  daily 
life  ;  its  prescriptions  are- more  binding  than  those  of  the  Koran. 

The  Tekkes  marry  young.  The  fattier  purchases  for  his  twelve- 
year-old  son  a  child-wife  for  600  to  2000  loans  (£20  to  £80).  A 
young  widow  cf  twenty-fiv^  is  mnch  more  valuable,  but  a  woman 
over  forty  is  not  worth  the  price  of  a  camel.  On  the  conclusion  ol 
the  bargain,  the  priest  reads  a  prayer  from  the  Koran,  and  the 
marriage  becomes  valid. 

The  dress  of  the  men  consists  of  a  long  tunic  of  coarse  crimson 
silk  reaching  below  the  knees,  with  a  white  sash  through  which  is 
stuck  a  dagger ;  an  outer  robe  of  brown  camel-hair  cloth,  a  huge 
sheepskin  hat,  trousers  and  slippers  or  amber-coloured  knee-boots, 
complete  the  costume.  The  women  are  exceedingly  fond  of  trinkets, 
rings,  and  amulets,  which  accompany  their  movements  with  a 
sound  as  it  were  of  bells.  Their  dress  consists  of  the  same  red  silk 
robe  as  the  men  wear,  with  a  sash  round  the  waist  and  high-heeled 
boots,  red  or  yellow. 

The  religion  is  Suni  Mohammedan  :  their  language  Jagatai  or 
Oriental  Turk. 

The  numbera  of  Merv  Tekkes  on  the  Murghab  and  Tejend  are 
variously  estimated,  but  may  be  stated  approximately  at  40,000 
tents,  including  5000  tents  of  the  Salor  tribe.  These  40,000  tents 
represent  a  population  of  200,000  to  ^50,000  souls.  The  Salorsand 
Sariks  at  Yulutan  and  Panjdeh,  higher  up  the  Morghab,  are  given 
at  11,000  tents,  or  some  60,000  sonls. 

Produeta,  Arts,  and  Manufaciurcs. — 'Hic  country  in  all  times  has 
been  renowned  throughout  the  East  for  its  fertility.  Strabo  telle  us 
"that  it  was  not  nncommon  to  meet  with  a  vine  whose  stock  could 
hardly  be  clasped  by  two  men  with  outstretched  arms,   whil<> 


44 


M  E  _R  —  M  E  R 


clusters  6f  Rrapos  ini''lit  1)C  gatlieriil  two  cubits  in  length."  The 
Arab  traveller  Ibii  Hauk.il,  writing  in  the  10th  teutury,  vemarks 
that  "  tho  fruiti  of  Merv  are  lintr  thim  thosK  of  any  other  place,  and 
one  cannot  see.  in  any  other  city  such  palaces  with  groves  and 
streams  and  gardens." ., A  local  proverb  says,  "Sow  a  grain  to 
reap  a  hundred. ^All  cereals  and  many  fruits  grow  in  great  abund- 

Tlie  Turcomans  pos*ss  a  famous  breed  of  horses,— not  prepos- 
sessing' in  appearance,  being  somewhat  le"gy  and  long  in  the  back 
and  neck,  but  capable  of  accomplishing  long  distances— 50  or  60 
miles — for  several  days  in  succession,  and  with  very  little  food. 
Thi>ir  great  peculiarity  appears  to  be  their  hiirlessness  ;  the  coat  is 
very  fine,  the  mane  and  tail  very  scanty.  This  breed  of  horses,  as 
well  as  the  wealth  of  the  Jlerv  Tekkes  in  camels  and  flocks,  is  fast 
disappearing 

The  Turcomans  are  noted  as  excellent  workers  in  silver  and  as 
armourers,  and  their  carpets  arc  superior  to  Tersiau.  Tliey  also 
make  felts  and  a  rough  cloth  of  sheep's  wooh 

One  of  tlio  chief  occupations  of  the  male  .sex  is  the  repair  of  the 
dams  and  the  clearing  of  the  c;inals,  upon  the  efficiency  of  which 
tlieir  existence  is  dcfcndent.  The  services  of  a  large  number  of 
workmen  are  always  held  in  readiness  for  the  purpose.  In  1878 
the  unusual  roass  of  *ater  in  the  Murghab  carried  away  the  dam, 
and  the  drying  up  of  some  of  the  canals  nearly  led  to  a  failure  of 
the  crops. 

CTinuite.— The  position  of  Mcrv,  in  tho  niidst  of  sandj  deserts  in 
the  heart  of  Asia,  makes  tho  climate  in  the  heat  of  summer  most' 
0]ipiessive.  The  least  wind  raises  clouds  of  fine  sand  and  dust, 
which  fill  the  air,  render  it  so  opaque  as  to  obscure  the  noonday  sun, 
and  make  respiration  difficult.  In  winter  the  climate  is  very  fine. 
Snow  falls  rarely,  and  melts  at  once. 

History. — The  name  Jlerv,  or  some  similar  form,  occurs  at  a 
very  early  period  in  the  history  of  the  Aryan  race.  Under  Mmiru 
we  find  it  mentioned  with  Bakhdi  (Balkh)  in  the  geography  of  the 
Zend  Avesta  {Fcndklad,  fargand  i.,  ed.  Spiegel),  which  dates  prob- 
ably from  a  period  anterior  to  the  conquest  of  Bactria  by  the 
Assyiians,  aud  therefore  at  least  one  thousand  two  hundred  years 
before  the  Christian  era.  Under  the  name  of  Margu  it  occurs  in  the 
cuneiform  inscriptions  of  Darius  Hystaspis,  where  it  is  referred  to  as 
forming  part  of  one  of  the  satrapies  of  the  ancient  Persian  empire 
{Inscriptimcs  Echisiatii,  ed.  Eossowicz).  It  afterwards  became  a  pro- 
vince {Mapymi/^)  of  the  Gricco-Syr.-an,  Parthian,  and  Persian  king- 
doms. On  the  Jlargus- the  Epavdus  of  Arrian  and  now  the  llurghab 
—stood  the  capital  of  the  district,  Antiochia  Margiana,  so  called  after 
.\ntiochns  Soter,  who  rebuilt  the  city  founded  by  Alexander  the 
Great.  About  the  5th  century,  during  tho  dynasty  of  the  Sasa- 
nids,  Merv  was  the  seat  of  a  Christian  archbishopric  of  the 
Nestoiian  Church.  In  the  middle  of  tho  7th  century  the  flood  of 
Arab  conquest  swept  over  the  mountains  of  Persia  to  the  deserts  of 
Central  Asia.  Mcrv  waa  occupied  668  a.d.  by  the  lieutenauts  of 
the  caliph  OLhman,  aud  was  constituted  the  capital  of  Khorasan. 
From  this  city  as  their  base  the  Arabs,  under  Kuteibe  bin  Jluslim, 
early  in  the  Stli  century  brought  under  subjection  Balkh,  Bokhara, 
Fer"hana,  and  Kashgaria,  and  ]>cnetrated  into  China  as.  far  as  the 
province  of  Kan-su,  In  tho  latter  part  of  the  8th  century -Merv 
became  obnoxious  to  Islam  as  the  centre  of  heretical  propaganda 
preached  by  Jlokaunah  (Hascheni  ben  Hakem),  tho  "veiled 
prophet  of  khorasan,"  who  claimed  to  be  the  incarnation  of  the 
Pfity.  In  874  Arab  rule  in  Central  Asia  came  to  an  end.  Dur- 
in"  their  dominion  Merv,  like  Samarkand  aud  Bokhara,  became 
on'o  of  the  gi-eat  schools  of  science,  and  the  celebrated  historian 
Yakut  studied  iu  its  libraries.  About  1037  the  SSljukian  Turks 
crossed  the  Oxus  from  the  north  and  raised  Toghrul  Beg,  grandson 
of  Seljuk,  to  the  throne  of  Pereia,  founSing  the  Seljukian  dynasty, 
with  its  capital  at  Nishapur.  A  younger  brother  of  Toghrul, 
Daoud,  took  possession  of  llerv  and  Herat.  Toghrul  was  succeeded 
by  the  knowued  Alp  Arslan  (the  great  lion),  whose  sway  was  so 
vast  that,  according  to  tradititn,  no  fewer  than  twelve  hundred 
kii>gs  princes,  and  sons  of  kings  and  princes  did  homage  before 
his  throne.  Alp  Arslan  was  buried  at  Merv.  It  was  about  this 
time  that  Merv  reached  tlie  zenith  of  her  glory.  During  the  reigii 
of  Sultan  Sanjar  of  tho  s.ime  house,  towards  tho  middle  of  the  llth 
century,  Merv  was  overrun  by  the  Turcomans  of  Ghuz,  and  tho 
country  was  reduced  to  a  state  of  misery  and  desolation.  These 
Turcomans,  tho  ancestors  of  tho  present  tribes  of  Turcomania, 
were  probably  introduced  into  the  country  by  the  Seljukian  Turks 
as  niiiitai-y  colonists.  They  formed  the  van  of  their  armies,  and 
rendered  efficient  service  so  long  as  the  dynasty  lasted,  and  after- 
wards took  part  in  the  wars  of  Tamerlane. 

In  1221  llerv  opened  its  gates  to  Toulai,  eon  of  Jenghiz,  khan 
ot  the  Mongols,  on  which  occasion  the  inhabitants,  to  the  number 
of  700  000,  are  said,  to  have  been  butchered.  From  this  time 
fgnvarii  Merv,  which  had  been  the  chief  city  of  Khorasan,  and 
was  popularly  supposed  to  contain  a  million  inhabitants,  com- 
menced to  languish  in  obscurity.  In  tho  early  part  of  the  14th 
century  Merv  w.ts  again  tho  seat  of  a  Christian  archbisho]iric  of  the 
ILastern  Church,  a  On  thu  death  of  the  grandson  of  Jengliiz  lihan 


Mei^v  became  included  in  the  possessions  of  Toghluk  Tiifaur  !Uiaq 
Cl'amerlane),  in  13S0.  In  1505  the  decayed  city  was  occupied  bj 
the  Uzbeks,  who  five  ycara  later  were  expelled  by  Ismail  Khairj 
the  founder  of  the  Suffavcan  dynasty  of  Persia.''^  Merv  thencefo-J 
ward  remained  in  the  hands  of  Persia  nutil  1787,  when  it  waf 
attacked  and  captured  by  the  emir  of  Bokhara.'^  Seven  yean 
later  the  Bokhanans  razed  the  city  to  the  ground,  broke  down  the 
dams,  and  converted  the  district  into  a  waste.  About  1790  tha 
Sarik  Turcomans  pitched  their  tents  there.  When  Sir  AlexanSec 
Burncs  traversed  the  country  in  1832,  the  Khivans  were  the  nilers 
of  Merv,"  the  nomad  population  being  subject  to  them.  About  this 
time  the  Tekke  Turcomans,  then  living  at  Ora2kala  on  the  Heri-nid, 
were  forced  to  migrate  northwaid  in  consequence  of  the  pi-essui* 
from  behind  of  the  Persians.  The  Khivans  contq»ted  the  advance 
of  the  Tekkes,  but  ultimately,  about  the  year  1856,  the  latter  be- 
came the  sovereign  power  in  the  country,  and'  have  tver.BJuce 
resisted  all  attempts  at  reconquest 

.4«f/i(jn'/iM.— Besides  the  8tandai-d  travels  of  Wolff,  Fen-ler.  Vamlicry,  Burnet; 
Abbott,  ilomnvleff,  and  others,  the  foUirwiiig  works  and  papers  of  more  recent 
diile  may  be  consulted  with  advantaRc :— Sir  H.  Rawhnson's  En^fand  and  RvttiM 
in  the-  £ast;  O'Donovan'a  correspondence  with  the  Z>ot/j/  yetca,  1880-Sl; 
O'Donovan's  -'Merv,"  Proc.  Roy.  Oeo^.  Soc;  Col.  Stewart's  "Ci.unTy  of  the 
Tekke  Turcomans."  /•roc.  Itot/.  Oco<j.  Soc,  with  excellent  map ;  "  1  he  New  Ruaso-' 
Persian  Frontier,  1881."  Pi-oc.  liotj.  Geog.  Sec.',  Glrard  de  Itlallc,  il^otre  tur 
tAsie  Cenlrale;  Sir  II.  Rawliiison,  "Road  to  Merv,"  Proc.  Itoi/.  Geoff.  Soc; 
Col.  Baker's  clouds  in  the  Etul\  Captain  Napier's  •- Repoi-ts,"  jQ-ui\  Ron.  Oeog. 
Soe.;  Iluttpn's  Central  Atia;  Marvin's  Hern;  Col  Potto's  Steppe  Campaignt; 
Sir  Charles  MucGregof'B  Journey  fhrmtgh  Khorassan  ;  Boulger'B  England  and 
Russia  in  Central  Asia  ;  Captain  Dutler's  Communications  to  the  Public  Preui 
l.ossav'a  "  Journeys,"  Pfoc.  Roy.  Oeog.  Soc. ;  O'Donovan's  Merv  Oasis  ;  PapeiBtm 
t lie  Turcomans,  ic,  by  CoL  Petrnsevltch,  Proc.  Imp.  P.uss.  ileog.  Hoc.  Csdcosiu 
SLCIlon;  Col.  GrodckofTs  Journey  from  Tashkend  to  Persia,  1S80;  Captain 
Knropiitkln's  Turcomania,  1830;  Col.  VenlukofTs  Progress  of  Russia  in  Central 
Asia,  1877,  and  other  papers  by  the  same  author ;  Col-  Kostenko's  "Turkestan," 
Jour.  R.  U.  S  Instn. ;  Schuyler's  Turkislon ;  coirespoiHience  on  Central  Asia  prt- 
se.itfid  to  parliament,  Jtc.  .  iV.  C.  H.  Ci 

MERYON,  Charles  (1821-1868)..  The  name' o! 
M^ryon  is  as.sociated  ■with  that  spiriteti  revival  of  etching 
in  France  which  took  place  in  the  middle  of  the  19th 
century, — say  from  1850  to  1865, — but  it  is  rather  by  the 
individuality  of  his  cwn  achievements,  and  the  strength  of 
llis  artistic  nature,  than  by  the  influence  he  exercrsed-that 
M^ryon  best  deserves  fame.  No  doubt  His  -syork  encouraged 
others  to  employ  the  same  medium  of  expression,  and  s» 
great  was  his  own  perfection  of  technirjue  that  he  may  well 
have  been  made  a  model ;  but,  after  all,  the  medium  he 
selected,  and  in  which  he  excelled,  was  but  the  accident  of 
his  art ;  he  was  driven  to  it  in  part  by  stress  of  circum-i 
stances — by  colour  blindness  ;  and,  even  with  colour  blind- 
ness, his  extraordinary  certainty  of  hand  and  his  delicate 
perception  of  light,  aided  by  his  potent  imagination,  would 
have  made  him  a  great  draughtsman  not  alone  upon  the 
copper. 

Charles  M^ryon  was  born  in  Paris  in  1821.  His  fathei 
■n'as  an  English  physician,  hia  mother  a  French  dancer. 
It  was  to  his  mother's  care  that  M^ryon's  childhood  'waa 
confided.  She  was  supplied  with  money,  and  she  gave  the 
boy  passionate  afifection,  if  not  a  -wise  training.  But  she 
died  -when  he  was  still  very  young,  and  !M(?ryon  in  due 
time  entered  the  French  na-vy,  and  in  the  corvette  "L« 
Rhin  "  made  tho  voyage  round  the  world.  He  was  already, 
a  draughtsman,  for  on  the  coast  of  New  Zealand  he  mads 
pencil  drawings  which  he  was  able  to  employ,  years  after- 
wards, as  studies  for  etchings  of  the  landscape  of  those' 
regions.  The  artistic  instinct  developed,  and,  while  ha' 
was  yet  a  lieutenant,  JWryon  left  the  nav)'.  Finding  that 
he  was  colour-blind,  MiSryon  determined  to  devote  himself^ 
to  etching.  He  entered  the  work-room  of  one  Bli5ry,  from' 
whom  he  learnt  something  of  technical  niatters,  and  to 
whom  ho  always  remained  grateful.  M^ryon  was  by  this 
time  poor.  It  is  said  that  he  might  have  had  assistance 
from  his  kindred,  but  he  was  too  proud  to  ask  it.  And 
thus  he  was  reduced  to  the  need  of  executing  for  the  sake 
of  daily  bread  much  work  that  was  wholly  mechanical  and 
irksome..  Resolutely,  though  unwillingly,  he  became  the 
hack  of  his  art,  doing  frequently,  from  the. day  when  he 
waa  first  a  master  of  it  to  the  day  when  insanity  disabled 
him,  many  dull  commissions  which  paid  ill,  but  Jiaid  better^ 
than  his  original  works.  *•  Among  learner's  work,* done  foi] 
his  own  adwintage,  are  to  be  counted  somastudies  after. the 


MiEiS  — M  E  S 


45 


Dutch  etchers  siich  as  Zeeman  and  Adrian  van  de  Velde. 
Having  proved  himself  a  surprising  copyist,  he  proceeded 
to  labour  of  his  own,  and  began  that  series  of  etchings 
which  are  the  greatest  embodiments  of  his  greatest  con- 
ceptions— the  series  called  "  Eaux-fortes  sur  Paris."  These 
plates,  executed  from  1850  to  1854,  are.  never  to  be  met 
with  as  -a  set ;  they  were  never  expressly  published  as  a 
set.  But  they  none  the  less  constituted  in  M6ryon's  mind 
an  harmonious  series.  For  him  their  likenesses  and  their 
contrasts  were  alike  studied ;  they  had  a  beginning  and  an 
end  ;  and  their  differences  were  lost  in  their  unity. 

Besides  the  twenty-two  etchings  "  sur  Paris  "  character- 
ized below,  M^ryon  did  seventy-two  etchings  of  one  sort 
and  another, — ninety-four  in  all  being  catalogued  in 
Wedmore's  Meryon  and  Meryon's  Paris  ;  but  these  include 
the  works  of  his  apprenticeship  and  of  his  decline,  adroit 
copies  in  which  his  best  success  was  in  the  sinking  of  his 
own  individuality,  and  dull  and  worthless  portraits  chiefly 
of  forgotten  celebrities.  Yet  among  the  seventy-two  prints 
outside  his  professed  series  there  are  at  least  a  dozen  that 
will  aid  his  fame.  Three  or  four  beautiful  etchings  of 
Paris  do  not  belong  to  the  series  at  all.  Two  or  three 
etchings,  again,  are  devoted  to  the  illustration  of 
Bourges,  a  city  in  which  the  old  wooden  houses  were 
K  attractive  to  him  for  their  own  sakes  as  were  the  stone- 
built  monuments  of  Paris,  But  generally  it  was  wlien 
Paris  engaged  him'  that  he  succeeded  the  most.  He 
would  have  done  more  work,  however, — though  he  could 
hardly  have  done  better  work,— if  the  material  difficulties 
of  his  life  had  not  pressed  upon  him  and  shortened  his 
days.  He  was  a  bachelor,  unhappy  in  love,  aiid  yet,  it  is 
related,  almost  as  constantly  occupied  with  love  as  with 
work.  The  depth  of  his  imagination  and  the  surprising 
mastery  which  he  achieved  almost  from  the  beginning  in 
the  technicalities  of  his  craft  were  appreciated  only  by  a 
few  artists,  critics,  and  connoisseurs,  and  he  could  not  sell 
his  etchings,  or  could  sell  them  only  for  about  lOd.  a  piece. 
The  fact  that  his  own  origiRal  work  was  of  incalculably 
greater  value  than  his  best  copies  of  his  most  celebrated 
forerunners  had  not  yet  impressed  itself  upon  anybody. 
Disappointment  told  upon  him,  and,  frugal  as  was  his  way 
of  life,  poverty  must  have  told  on  him.  He  became  subject 
to  hallucinations.  Enemies,  he  said,  waited  for  him  at  the 
corners  of  the  streets ;  his  few  friends  robbed  him  or  owed 
him  that- which  they  would  never  pay.  A  very  few  years 
after  the  completion  of  his  Paris  series,  he  was  lodged  in 
the  madhouse  of  Charenton.  Its  order  and  care  restored 
him  for  a  w-hile  to  heal,th,  and  he  came  out  and  did  a  little 
more  work,  but  at  bottom  he  was  exhausted.  In  1867 
he  returned  to  his  asylum,  and  died  there  in  18G8.  In  the 
middle  years  of  his  life,  just  before  he  was  placed  under  con- 
finement, he  was  much  associated  with  Bracquemond  and 
with  Flameng, — skilled  practitioners  of  etching)  while  he 
was  himself  an  undeniable  genius, — and  the  best  of  tlie 
portraits  we  have  of  him  is  that  one  by  Bracquemond 
under  which  the  sitter  wrote  that  it  represented  "  the 
sombre  Meryon  with  the  grotesque  visage."     And  it  did. 

There  arc  twenty-two  pieces  in  the  Eaux-fortes  sur  Paris.  Some 
of  them  are  insignificant.  That  is  because  ten  outof  tlie  twenty- 
two  were  destined  as  headpiece,  tailpiece,  or  running  conimeutJiry 
on  some  more  important  plate.  But  eacli  lias  its  value,  and  certain 
of  the  smaller  pieces  throw  great  light  ou  the  aim  of  the  entire  set. 
Thus,  one  little  plate— not  a  picture  at  all— i.s  devoted  to  the  record 
of  verses  made  by  Meryon,  the  purpose  of  which  is  to  lament  the  life 
of  Paris.  The  misery  and  poverty  of  the  town  Meryon  had  to  illus- 
trate, as  well  as  its  splendour.  The  art  of  Meryon  is  completely 
misconceived  when  his  etchingsare  spoken  of  asviewsof  Paris.  They 
arc  often  "views,"  but  they  ai-e  so  just  so  far  as  is  compatible  with 
their  being  likewise  the  visions  of  a  poet  and  the  compositions  of  an 
artist.  It  was  an  epic  of  Paiis  that  Jleryon  determined  to  make, 
tibloured  strongly  by  his  personal  sentiment,  and  affected  hero  and 
there  by  the  occurrences  of  the  moment, — in  more  than  one  case,  for 
instance,  he  hurried  with  p>>.rticular  affectioa  to  etch  his  impression 


of  some  old-world  building  which  was  ou  the  point  of  ilestnu'tion. 
Nearly  every  etching  in  tiic  series  is  au  instance  of  technical  skill, 
but  even  the  technical  skill  is  e.wrcised  most  happily  in  those  etch- 
ings whicTi  have  the  advantage  of  impressive  subjects,  and  which 
the  collector  willingly  chcrislies  for  their  mysterious  snggestiveuess 
or  for  their  pure  beauty.  Of  these,  the  AWide  de  Koir«  Danit  is 
the  general  favourite  ;  it  is  commonly  held  to  be  Meryon's  master- 
piece. Light  and  shade  play  wonderfully  over  the  gieat  fabric  of 
the  church,  seen  over  the  spaces  of  tlie  river.  As  a  draughtsman  of 
architecture,  Meryon  was  complete  ;  his  sympathy  with  its  various 
styles  was  broad,  and  his  work  ou  its  various  styles  unbiassed  and 
of  equal  perfection— a  point  in  which  it  is  curious  to  contrast  him 
with  Turner,  who,  in  drawing  Gothic,  often  drew  it  with  want  of 
appreciation.  It  is  evident  that  architecture  must  enter  lav:,'ely 
into  any  representation  of  a  city,  however  much  such  represeutatioii 
may  be  a  vision,  and  however  little  a  chronicle.  Besides,  the  archi- 
tectural portion  even  of  Meryon's  labour  is  but  indirectly  imaoiua- 
tivc  ;  to  the  imagination  he  has  given  freer  play  in  his  dealin'rs'with 
the  figure,  whether  the  people  of  the  street  or  of  the  river°or  the 
people  who,  when  ha  is  most  frankly  or  even  wildly  symbolical, 
crowd  the  sky.  Generally  speaking,  his  figures  are,  as  regards 
draughtsmanship,  " landscape-painter's  figures."  They  are  drawn 
more  with  an  eye  to  grace  than  to  correctness.  But  they  are  not 
"  landscape-painter's  figures  "  at  all  when  what  we  are  concerned 
with  is  not  the  method  of  their  representation  but  the  purpose  of 
their  introduction.  They  are  seen  then  to  be  in  exceptional  accord 
with  the  sentiment  of  the  scene.  Sometimes,  as  in  the  c.ise  of  La 
Morgue,  it  is  they  who  tell  the  story  of  the  picture.  Sometimes,  as 
in  the  case  of  La  Rue  des  Mauvais  Carbons, — with  the  two  pa.ssing 
women  bent  together  in  secret  converse, — they  at  least  suggest  it! 
And  sometimes,  as  in  L'Arche  du  Pont  Notre  Dame,  it  is  their 
expressive  gesture  and  eager  action  that  give  vitality  and  animation 
to  the  scene.  Dealing  perfectly  with  architecture,  and  perfectly,  as 
far  as  concerned  hiq  peculiar  purpose,  with  humanity  in  his  art, 
Meryon  was  little  called  upon  by  the  character  of  his  subjects  to 
deal  with  Nature.  He  drew  trees  but  badly,  never  representing 
foliage  happily,  either  in  detail  or  in  mass.  But  to  render  the  char- 
acteristics of  the  city,  it  was  necessaiy  that  he  should  know  how  to 
pourtr.-iy  a  certain  kind  of  water — river- water,  mostly  sluggish — and 
a  certain  kind  of  sky— the  grey  obscured  and  lower  sky  that  broods 
over  a  world  of  roof  and  chimney.  This  water  and  this  sky  Merj-on 
is  thoroughly  master  of ;  he  notes  with  observant  affection  their 
changes  in  all  lights. 

iteryou's  excellent  draugiiiinanship.and  his  keen  appreciation"of 
liglit,  shade,  and  tone,  were,  of  course,  helps  to  his  becoming  a  great' 
etcher.  But  a  living  authority,  himself  an  eminent  etcher,  and 
admiring  Meryon  thoroughly,  has  called  Meryon  by  preference  a 
great  original  engraver,- so  little  of  Meiyon's  work  accords  with  Mr 
Hadcn's  view  of  etching.  Sliryon  was  anything  but  a  brilliant 
sketcher;  and,  if  an  artist's  success  in  etching  is  to  be  gauged  cliieflv 
by  the  rapidity  with  which  he  records  an  impression,  Meiyon's  suo 
cess  was  not  great.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  his  work  was 
laborious  and  deliberate,  instead  of  swift  and  impulsive,  and  that  of 
some  other  virtues  of  the  etcher — "selection"  and  "abstraction"  SB 
Mr  Hamerton  has  defined  them — he  shows  small  trace.  But  a 
genius  like  Meryon  is  a  law  unto  himself,  or  rather  in  his  practice 
of  his  art  he  makes  the  laws  by  which  that  art  and  he  are  to  be 
judged.  He  was  a  great  etcher,  and  by  his  most  elaborate  labour 
he  seemed  somehow  to  ensure  the  more  completely  for  bis  picture 
that  virtue  of  unity  of  impression  which,  it  may  well  be  admitted, 
oftener  belongs  to  rapid  than  to  deliberate  work.  In  Meryon's 
etchings  the  hand-work  never  seems  tg  be  in  arrear  of  the  thought 
As  long  as  the  hand-work  must  continue,  the  thought  and  passion 
are  retained.  Meryon  knows  the  secrets  of  his  craft  as  well  as  did 
the  older  masters  of  it ;  but  he  turns  them  to  his  own  purposes. 
He  is  unexcelled  in  strength  and  in  precision,  nor  is  he  often 
rivalled  in  delicacy.  These  qualities,-  and  othcre  more  distinctly 
tecbnic.ll,  which  it  would  take  too  long  to  insist  on  here,  students 
find  in  his  etchings.  But  the  incommunicable  charm  of  Meryon's 
prints  and  their  lasting  fascination  are  due  to  the  fact  that,  behind 
all  technical  qualities,  and  as  their  veiy  source  and  spring,  there 
lies  the  potent  imagination  of  the  artist,  poetical  and  vivid,  direct- 
ing him  what  to  see  in  his  subject,  and  how  to  see  it.      (F.  WE.) 

MESCHERYAKS,  or  Meschers,  a  people  inhabiting 
eastern  Russia.  Nestor  regarded  them  as  Finns,  and 
even  now  part  of  the  Mordvinians  (of  Finnish  origin) 
call  themselves  Meschers.  Klaproth,  on  the  other  hand, 
supposed  they  were  a  mixture  of  Finns  and  Turks,  and  the 
Hungarian  traveller  Reguli  discovered  that  the  Tartarized 
Meschers  of  the  Obi  closely  resembled  Hungarians.-  They 
formerly  occupied  the  basin  of  Jhe  Oka  (where  the  town 
Meschersk,  now  Meschovsk,  has  maintained  their  name) 
and  of  the  Sura,  extending  north-cast  to  the  Volga.  After 
the   conquest  of   the  Kazan   empire   by  Russia,.^partl.Df 


46 


M  E  S  — M  E  !S 


them  migrated  north-eastwards  to  the  basins  of  the  Kama 
and  Byelaya,  and  thus  the  Meschers  divided  into  two 
branches.  The  western  branch  became  Russified,  so  that 
the  Mescheryaks  of  the  governments  of  Penza,  Saratoff, 
Ryazan,  and  Vladimir  have  adopted  the  customs,  language, 
and  religion  of  the  conquering  race;  but  their  ethnogra- 
phical characteristics  can  Ije  easily  distinguished  in  the 
Russian  population  of  the  governments  of  Penza  and 
Tamboff.  The  eastern  branch  has  taken  on  the  customs, 
language,  and  religion  of  Bashkirs,  with  whom  their  fusion 
is  still  more  complete.  They  can  be  distinguished  from 
their  neighbours  only  by  their  more  peaceful  character. 
This  Bashkir-Mescheryak  branch  was  estimated  by  Rittich 
in  1875  to  number  138,000.  They  make  6  per  cent,  of 
the  population  of  the  government  of  Upa,  and  22  per 
cent,  in  the  district  of  Birsk.  The  number  of  the  western 
Mescheryaks  is  unknown,  and  could  hardly  be  estimated  on 
account  of  their  mixture  vnth  Russians.  It  is  only  in  the 
government  of  Penza  that  they  have  maintained  theirnational 
features ;  there  they  make  3  per  cent,  of  the  population. 

MESCHOVSK,  a  district  town  of  Russia,  in  the  govern- 
ment of  Kaluga,  45  miles  to  the  south-west  of  the  capital 
of  the  province.  It  is  an  old  town  supposed  to  date  from 
the  13th  century,  and  it  is  often  mentioned  in  Russian 
annals  under  the  names  of  Mezetsk,  Mezechevsk,  or 
Meschorsk.  About  the  end  of  the  14th  century  it  was 
embraced  in  Lithuania,  and  it  was  ceded  to  the  Moscow 
"  great  principality  "  in  1 494.  It  was  often  pillaged  by  Tar- 
tars in  the  1 6th  century,  and  during  the  great  distm-bances 
of  1610  all  its  inhabitants  were  killed  by  the  Zaporoghi 
Cossacks,  and  the  fort  was  taken  by  Poles,  who  returned  it 
to  Russia  only  after  tha  treaty  of  Deulm.  The  country 
round  Meschovsk  is  not  fertile ;  but,  from  its  position  on 
old  established  routes  to  the  south,  the  to^vn  has  become 
a  centre  of  considerable  trade.  Its  annual  fair,  which 
takes  place  on  the  grounds  of  the  very  old  Petrovsk 
monastery,  is  important  to  the  surrounding  districts  for 
the  export  sale  of  horses,,  grain,  hemp,  hempseed  oil,  and 
coarse  linen,  and  for  the  import  trade  in  cottons,  woollens, 
and  earthen  and  glass  wares,  the  whole  turn-over  reaching 
about  £100,000.     Population,  7400. 

MESHED  (properly  Mesh-hed,  i.e.,  "place  of  martyi;; 
dom,"  "shrine"),  a  city  of  northern  Persia,  capital  of 
Khoriisiin,  472  miles  east  of  TehrAn,  201  miles  north-west 
of  Herat,  36'  17'  40"  N.,  52°  35'  29"  E.,  lies  on  a  plain 
watered  by  the  Keshaf-rild,  a  tributary  of  the  Heri-rud,  and 
is  surrounded  by  mud  walls  4  mUes  in  circumference,  with 
a  dry  ditch  40  feet  deep  at  some  points,  which  could  be 
flooded  from  the  neighbouring  reservoir  and  watercourses. 
Within  this  enclosure  is  a  strong  citadel,  with  good  walls  25 
feet  high,  residence  of  the  prince  governor  of  KhorAsAn. 
There  are  five  gates,  from  one  of  which,  the  Bala  KhlabAn, 
the  KhiabAn  main  street  runs  right  through  the  city,  form- 
ing a  fine  boulevard  planted  with  plane  and  mulberry  trees, 
and  with  a  stream  of  dirty  water  running  down  its  whole 
length.  In  the  centre  is  an  open  parallelogram  160  yards 
by  75,  encircled  by  double-storied  cloisters,  and  pierced  on 
the  long  side  by  a  high  arched  porch  leading  directly  to 
the  great  mosque,  whose  gilded  dome  ri.ses  al>ove  the  .shrine 
of  the  famous  ImAm  RizA.'     The  marble  tomb  of  the  .saint, 

•  'AH  Ri?a  (or  el-Rida),  the  eighth  imnm  of  the  Rhi'a,  is  the  'Ah'  ihn 
Miisi  from  whom  the  party  of  Alides  h.id  sucli  liopcs  under  the 
caliphate  of  Mamun  (see  Siohammedanism).  Ho  died  at  fiia, 
818  A.D.,  and  was  buried  by  Mamun's  orders  in  the  vicinity  of  tliat 
town  beside  the  grave  of  Hariin  el-Rash{d.  To  the  Alides  he  was  a 
martyr,  being  believed  to  have  been  poisoned  by  the  caliph,  Ibn  Batutn, 
who  describes  both  shrines  (iii.  77  sq.),  tells  how  the  pious  visitors 
to  the  slirine  of  'Ali  ibn  Mi'isd  used  to  spurn  witli  tlieir  feet  the  tomb 
of  Rashfd.  In  Ids  time  a  considerable  town  had  been  formed  around 
the  shrink  uiider  the  name  of  Moshhed  el-Rid.i  and  uUiiiiatcIy  llie 
now  town  eclipsed  the  older  city  of  Tus. 


which  is  the  most  venerated  spot  in  the  whole  of  Persia, 
and  yearly  visited  by  from  80,000  to  100,000  pilgrims,  is 
surrounded  by  a  silver  railing,  and  approached  by  a  flight 
of  inlaid  marble  steps.  Eastwick,  the  only  European  before 
O'Donovan  who  penetrated  as  far  as  the  parallelogram, 
describes  the  mosque  as  large  enough  to  contain  three 
thousand  people.  It  is  flanked  by  two  gilded  minarets, 
one  of  which,  120  feet  high,  is  e.^ttremely  beaiitiful,  with 
an  exquisitely  carved  capital,  built  by  ShAh  AbbAs.  The 
fa9ade  is  entirely  covered  with  blue  and  white  enamelled 
tiles.  To  the  mosque  are  attached  as  many  as  two  thoasand 
attendants  and  retainers  of  all  sorts,  including  no  less  than 
five  hundred  mollahs.  Beyond  the  dome  is  Gauhar  ShAh's 
handsome  mosque,  surmounted  by  an  immense  Mue  dome,i 
and  also  flanked  by  two  minarets.  In  the  main  street 
is  a  public  kitchen  supported  by  the  enormous  revenues 
of  the. shrine,  where  eight  hundred  devotees  are  daily, 
supplied  with  food  gratuitously.  The  only  other  notable 
buildings  in  the  place  are  some  colleges  and  twenty-' 
two  caravanserais,  one  of  which  is  of  great  size.  Meshed 
does  a  considerable  local  and  transit  trade  to  the  yearly 
value  of  about  600,000  tomans,  and  its  bazaars  are  always 
well  stocked  with  silks,  velvets,  felts,  cottons,  shawls,' 
carpets,  lacquer  work,  lambskins,  hai'dware,  glass,  chica,] 
and  other  goods  from  South  Persia,  India,  Turkestan,  and 
Russia.  The  European  trade  is  now  entirely  controlled  by 
Russia,  and  European  manufactured  articles  are  mostly  all 
from  that  country.  The  chief  manufactures  are  silk,  satin, 
velvet,  and  checked-cotton  fabrics,  carpets,  shawls,  noted 
sword  blades,  shagreen,  and  turquois  jewellery.  Within 
the  enclosures  are  extensive  cemeteries  far  exceeding  the 
local  requirements,  large  numbers  of  the  faithful  being 
brought  from  all  parts  of  the  Shi'a  world  to  be  buried  in 
the  vicinity  of  RLzA's  shrine  under  the  belief  that  their, 
eternal  salvation  is  thereby  ensured. 

Some  10  miles  west  of  Meshed  is  a  powder  factory,  formerly 
under  Colonel  Dolmago,  where  powder  of-  excellent  quality  is  p«K 
duced.  The  district,  although  fertile,  does  not  produce  sufficient 
for  the  inhabitants,  so  that  much  grain  has  to  be  imported  from 
Kurdistan  and  Nislidpur.  The  climate  is  very  severe  iu  winter,  with 
much  snow  ;  in  summer  it  is  less  sultry  than  might  be  expected, 
the  temperature  ranging  from  76"  F.  to  90°  or  92°  F.,  and  in  excep- 
tional years  94°  to  98°  F.  The  population  is  variously  estimated  at 
from  45,000  (Connolly)  and  S0,000  (Ferrier)  to  80,000  and  100,000 
(Eastwick).  The  settled  residents,  exclusive  of  pilgrims  and  foreign 
traders,  are  estimated  by  O'Donovan  at  50,000.  ", 

The  main  caravan  routes  from  Khiva,  Bokhara,  Samarkand,  and 
Herat  converge  at  Meshed,  whence  lines  of  traffic  radiate  to  Kuchan 
for  the  Atrek  valley  and  the  Cas]iian,  to  Nishapur  and  Bostara  for 
Tehran,  to  Tahas  for  Isfalidn,  to  lihat  for  Sistan  and  Kirrodn.  It 
thus  occupies  a  position  in  north-eastern  Persia  analogous  to  that 
of  Tabriz  iu  the  north-west. 

MESHED-ALI,  i.e.,  the  shrine  of  the  "  martyr  "  Ali,  is 
a  town  of  Asiatic  Turkey,  province  of  Baghdad,  50  miles 
south  of  Kerbela,  close  to  the  ruins  of  Kufa,  and  2  miles 
west  of  the  Hindlye  branch  of  the  Euphrates,  the  reputed 
burial-place  of  the  caliph  Ali.-  It  stands  on  the  east 
scarp  of  the  Syrian  desert,  and  is  enclosed  by  nearly  square 
brick  walls  flanked  by  massive  round  towers  dating  from 
the  time  of  the  caliphs.  Under  the  gilded  dome  of  the 
great  mosque,  which  occupies  the  centre  of  the  town,  is  the 
shrine  of  Ali,  which  is  held  by  the  Shi'a  as  at  least  as 
holy  as  the  Kaaba  itself.  Any  Moslem  buried  within 
siglit  of  the  dome  being  certain  of  salvation,  large  numbers 
of  bodies  are  yearly- sent  from  all  parts  for  interment  here. 
Besides  the  mosque  M'ith  its  richly  decorated  facade,  the 
only  noteworthy  building  is  a  good  bazaar  su])plied  from 
Baghdad  and  Basra.     The  to^vn  itself,  whicli  Lady  Anne 


^  Wliether  the  place  really  contains  the  grave  of  Ah  was  long 
disputed,  and  the  story  given  in  defence  of  its  claims  is  doubtless 
apocryphal.  The  dome  was  built  under  the  Abbasids,  and  the  resting- 
place  of  the  caliph  \>n!;uuv,n  or  concealed  under  the  Oniayyads  (Ibn 
Haukal,  p:  163). 


M  E  S  — M  E  S 


47 


Blunt  describes  as  "  an  ideal  Eastern  city,  standing  in  an 
absolute  desert,  and  bare  of  all  surroundings  but  its  tombs," 
consists  of  narrow  gloomy  streets  lined  by  houses  closely 
packed  together.  The  locality  is  properly  named  Najaf, 
and  gives  its  name  to  the  neighbouring  lake,  a  large 
depression  filled  by  an  eruption  of  the  river,  and  ranging 
from  6  to  20  feet  in  depth.  The  accumidated  treasures 
of  the  shrine  were  carried  ofE  by  the  Wahhiibites  when  they 
captured  this  place  early  in  the  present  century.  The 
population  is  estimated  at  7000,  including  several  Indian 
Mohammedans  under  the  protection  of  the  British  resident 
at  Baghdad. 

The  asiiect  of  the  shrine  in  the  14th  century  is  doscribej  by  Ibn 
Batiita,  i.  iH  sq.  A  plan  of  the  town  and  description  of  its 
splendour  before  the  Wahhabites  pillaged  it  is  given  Dy  Niebuhi-. 
See  also  Ibn  Jubair,  p.  214  ;  P.  Teiieira,  /(in.,  cap,  iv. 

MESHED  HOSEIN,  properly  Meshhed  Hosein.  See 
Keebela,  vol.  xiv.  p.  48. 

MESilER,  MESMERISM.  See  vol.  xv.  p.  277. 
See  Plata  MESOPOTAMIA,  the  "  country  between  the  rivers,"  is-a 
"111.  'purely  geographical  expression,  the  countries  which  it  com- 
prehends never  having  formed  a  self-contained  political 
unity.'  It  was  first  introduced  by  the  Greeks  at  or  after 
the  time  of  Alexander,  but  probably  had  its  origin  in  the 
earlier  Aramaain  name  letli  naJirtn  (the  country  between  the 
rivers),  to  which  again  corresponds  the  Biblical  Aram  N^aka- 
rayim.^  As  early  as  700  b.c.  "  the  country  of  two  rivers  " 
is  mentioned  on  the  Egyptian  moniunents  under  the  name 
?Taharina,  but  no  such  designation  appears  in  the  cimei- 
form  inscriptions  (though  the  territory  formed  part  of  the 
Assyrian  as  it  afterwards  did  of  the  Persian  empire).  The 
most  settled  period  in  the  history  of  Mesopotamia  was 
probably  under  Persian-Greek  rule.  Xenophon  applies 
the  name  Syria  to  the  extremely  fertile  district  which  he 
traversed  after  having  crossed  the  Euphrates  at  Thapsacu.s. 
The  country  beyond  the  Araxes  (Chaboras  ?)  he  calls  Arabia, 
— a  desert  region  in  which  his  army  had  to  suffer  great 
hardships  until  it  reached  the  "  gJltes  of  Arabia."  Even 
in  later  times  Mesopotamia  was  included  under  the  name 
Assyria,  or  was  reckoned  part  of  Babylonia. 

These  statements  of  Xenophon  already  indicate  a 
demarcation  of  the  territory  afterwards  called  Mesopotamia, 
as  well  as  its  division  into  two  sections.  The  fertile 
portion,  inhabited  by  agricultural  Aramaeans,  stretched 
from  the  Euphrates  to  the  Chaboras ;  the  desert  portion, 
the  home  of  wandering  tribes,  extended  to  the  Tigris.  It 
would  be  rash,  however,  to  conclude  from  this  that 
Mesopotamia  designated  the  whole  territory  between  the 
Euphrates  and  Tigris ;  indeed  it  is  -possible  that  Aram 
Najiarayim,  the  Aram  of  the  country  of  the  two  rivers, 
originally  meant  only  the  main  portion  of  the  fertile  country 
inhabited  by  Syrians.  In  this  case  the  two  boundary 
rivers  must  have  been,  not  the  Euphrates  and  the  Tigris, 
but  the  Euphrates  and  tl\e  Chaboras.  After  the  final 
occupation  of  the  country  by  the  Romans  (156  a.d.),  the 
political  province  of  Mesopotamia  was  practically  confined 
to  this  more  limited  district.     Though  in  ordinary  usage 

»the  Euphrates  and  Tigris  are  considered  as  the  two  rivers 
•  which  bound  'Mesopotamia,  the  one  bank  of  the  river 
cannot  be  geographically  separated  from  the  other,  and 
consequently  narrow  strips  of  country  on  the  right  bank 
of  the  Euphrates  and  on  the  left  bank  of  the  Tigris  must 
be  reckoned  to  the  country  "between"  the  rivers.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  country  between  the  sources  of  the 
Euphrates  and   the   Tigris   has   from   early   times  •  been 

*  Mcffoirora/iio,  more  exactly  ^  ^etni  tatv  TroTofiwyt  soil.  x^P"^ 
or  Zvpfa. '   -■'-.fj.,,.-  •. 

Jt  In  the  more  recent  parts  of  Genesis  Padan  Aram  takes  tbe  place 
of  Aram  Naharayini.  Bnt  this  perhaps  is  the  name  of  a  smaller  district 
in  the  neighbourhood  of  Harran.  ' 


reckoned  not  to  Mesopotamia  but  to  Armenia.  In  this 
direction  the  Masius  range  forms  the  proper  boundarj-,  and 
it  is  only  on  rare  occasions  ,that  theoretical  geographers 
extend  the  name  Mesopotamia  over  the  more  northern 
districts,  Sophene,  &c.  Purely  theoretical  too,  and  not  to 
be  approved,  is  the  extension  of  the  definition  so  as  to 
include  the  land  of  Babylonia  ('IrAk  'Arabi),  that  is,  the 
country  as  far  south  as  the  confluence  of  the  Euphrates 
and  Tigris,  or  even  as  far  as  their  embouchure  in  the 
Persian  Gulf. 

From  what  has  been  said  it  appears  that  Mesopotamia 
reaches  itsnorthern  limitsat  the  points  where theEuPHBATES 
(?.!'.)  and  the  Tigris  break  through  the  mountain  range  and 
enter  the  lowlands.  In  the  case  of  the  Euphrates  this 
takes  place  at  Sumeisdt  (Samosata),  in  that  of  the  Tigris 
near  Jezlret  ibn  'Omar  (Bezabdd)  and  Mosul  (Xineveh). 
Consequently  the  irregular  northern  boundaries  aru  marked 
by  the  lowland  limits  of  those  spurs  of  the  Taurus  mountains 
known  in  antiquity  as  Mons  Masius  and  now  as  Karaje 
DAgh  and  Tur  "Abdin.  Towards  the  south  the  ancient 
boundary  was  the  so-called  Median  WaU,  which,  near 
Pirux  Shapur,  not  much  to  the  south  of  Hit  (the  ancient 
Is),  crossed  from  the  Euphrates  in  the  dii-ection  of  Kadisiya 
(Opis)  to  the  Tigris.  There  the  two  rivers  approach  each 
other,  to  diverge  again  lower  down.  At  the  same  place 
begins  the  network  of  canals  connecting  the  two  rivers 
which  rendered  the  country  of  Babylonia  one  of  the  richest 
in  the  world ;  there  too,  in  a  geological  sense,  the  higher 
portion  of  the  iilain,  consisting  of  strata  of  gypsum  and 
marl,  comes  to  an  end ;  there  at  one  time  ran  the  line  of 
the  sea-coast ;  and  there  begin  those  alluvial  formations 
with  which  the  mighty  rivers  in  the  course  of  long  ages 
have  filled  up  this  depressed  area.  Mesopotamia  thus 
forms  a  triangle  lying  in  the  north-west  and  south-east 
direction,  with  its  long  sides  towards  the  north  and  south- 
west. It  extends  from  37°  30'  to  about  33°  N.  lat.  and 
from  38°  to  46°  E.  long.,  and  has  an  area  of  some  55,200 
square  miles.  The  points  at  which  the  rivers  issue  from- 
among  the  mountains  have  an  absolute  altitude  of  between 
1000  and  1150  feet,  and  the  plain  sinks  rapidly  towards 
the  southern  extremity  of  Mesopotamia,  where  it,  is  not  more 
than  about  1G5  feet  above  the  sea.  As  a  whole  the  entire 
country  consists  of  a  single  open  stretch,  save  that  in  the 
north  there  are  some  branches  of  the  Taurus — the  Nimnid 
DAgh  near  Orfd,  the  long  limestone  range  of 'Abd-el'Azlz, 
running  north-north-west,  and  farther  to  the'  east  the  Sinjar 
range,  abo  of  limestone,  7  miles  broad  and  50  mUes  long, 
running  north-northreast.  Between  these  two  ranges — near 
the  isolated  basaltic  hill  of  Tell  K6kab  (Hill  of  Stars) — runs 
the  defile  by  which  the  waters  of  the  Chaboras,  swollen 
by  the  Jaghjagha  and  other  affluents  from  the  Masius,  find 
their  way  into  the  heart  of  Mesopotamia.  The  KhAbiir 
proper,  the  ancient  Chabora.s,  which  rises  in  the  three- 
hundred  copious  fountains  of  RAs- ain  (the  ancient  Bhesaena), 
and  ultimately  falls  into  the  Euphrates  near  KarkisiyA 
(Circesium),  forms  the  boundary  between  the  two,  or  mora 
correctly  the  three,  great  divisions  of  Mesopotamia.  ■,  These 
divisions  are  (1)  the  northern  country  to  the  west  of  the 
KhAbTir,  (2)  the  northern  country  to  the  east,  and  (3)  the 
steppe-land.  In  the  country  to  the  north-west  of  the 
KhAbiir  we  must  probably,  as  already  mentioned,  recognize 
the  true  ancient  Aram  Naliarayim.  Under  the  dominion 
of  the  Seleucids  it  bore  the  name  of  Osrhoene,  or  better 
Orrhoene,  and  was  for  a  time  the  seat  of  a  special  dynasty 
•which  at  a  later  date  at  any  rate  .was  Arabian  (Abgar). 
The  capital  of  this  kingdom  was  Orfa  (Roha),  the  Edessa 
of  the  Greeks  and  Romans,  the  Orrhoi  of  the  Syrians ;  it 
was  at  a  later  date  a  Roman  colony,  and  bore  also  the  name 
of  Justinopolis.  This  once  flourishing  city  lies  on  the  small 
river  Daisan  (the  ancient  Scirtus).     South  of  Edessa  lie 


48 


MESOPOTAJIIA 


the  ruins  of  Hajiran  (see  vol.  xi.  p.  454).  In  the  Mongolian 
period  Harran  fell  into  decay,  and  at  present  it  is  a  mere 
heap  of  ruins.  A  third  tflwn  of  this  region  is  Serug 
(Gen.  xi.  20) ;  in  the  Greek  period  it  was  called  Batne,  but 
the  Syrians  retained  ihe  name  Serug,  which  is  still  in  use 
(Seriij).  The  town  lies  between  Harran  and  the  Euphrates, 
in  a  plain  to  which  it  gives  its  name.  On  the  left  bank  of 
the  Euphrates  lay  Aparaea  (the  modem  Birejik),  connected 
with  Zeugma  on  the  other  side  by  a  bridge,  and  farther 
south,  at  the  mouth  of  the  Bilechas  (modem  BeUk), 
was  the  trading  town  and  fortress  Nicephorium,  founded 
by  command  of  Alexander,  and  completed  by  Seleucus 
Kicator,  in  memory  of  whose  victory  it  was  named. 
From  the  emperor  Leo  it  received  the  designation  Leonto- 
polis.  The  spot  is  bow  knoiivn  as  Ra^ilfa  (see  below). 
Farther  up  the  fruitful  valley  of  the  Belik  lay  the  town  of 
Ichnae  (Chne).  Farther  south  lay  Circesium  {Chdboras  of 
Ptolemy,  Pkaleg  of  Isidor),  not  to  be  identified,  as  is  usually 
assumed,  with  Carcheraish ;  from  the  tima  of  Diocletian 
it  was  strongly  fortified.  The  site  is  at  present  occupied 
by  a  wretched  place  of  the  name  Karklsiyi.  Carchemish 
probably  lay  near  the  bridge  of  Membij,  the  present 
Kalat  el-Nejm. 

In  ancient  times  a  highly  flourishing  district  must  have 
stretched  along  the  river  Chaboras  (Khibiir)  to  its  principal 
source  at  RAs-'ain  ("Fountain-head,"  Sjt.  RUKaina,  the 
Bhesaena  of  Ptolemy),  a  to\\'n  which  was  for  some  time  called 
Theodosiopolis,  because  after  380  A.D.  it  was  extended  and 
embellished  by  Theodosius.  Justinian  fortified  it.  The 
strip  of  completely  desert  country  which  now  stretches  along 
the  lower  course  of  the  KhAbur  was  called  in  antiquity 
Gauzanitis,  and  corresponds  to  the  Oozan  of  2  Kings  xviiL 
6  (Guzana  or  Guzanu  in  the  cuneiform  inscriptions). 

The  country  to  the  east  of  the  upper  KhAbiir  is  in  many . 
respects  similar  to  that  which  has  just  been  described.  As 
the  watershed  of  the  Tigris  is  not  far  distant,  the  Masius 
range  sends  down  into  Mesopotamia  only  insignificant 
streams,  the  most  important  being  the  Hermas,  the 
Mygdonius  of  the  Greeks.  On  its  banks  was  situated 
Nisibis,  the  chief  city  of  the  district,  which  commanded 
the  great  road  at  the  foot  of  the  mountains  leading 
through  the  steppe,  which  here  from  the  scarcity  of  water 
comes  close  up  to  the  edge  of  the  hills.  In  the  old 
Assyrian  empire  Nasibina  was  the  seat  of  one  of  the  four 
great  administrative  ofliciaLs.  In  the  time  of  the  Seleucids 
the  site  was  occupied  by  the  flourishing  Greek  colony  of 
Antiochia  Mygdonia  ;  but  the  new  designation,  transferred 
to  the  river  and  the  vicinity  of  Nisibis  from  the  Mace- 
donian district  of  Mygdonia,  afterwards  passed  out  of  use. 
Nisibis  was  an  important  trading  city,  and  played  a  great 
part  in  the  wars  of  the  Romans  against  the  Persians. 
Captured  by  Lucullus,  surrendered  by  Tigranes,  recovered 
by  Trajan,  again  abandoned  by  Hadrian,  once  more  occu- 
pied under  Lucius  Verus,  and  strongly  fortified  by  Severas, 
it  was  at  length  raised  to  be  the  capita!  of  the  pro^^nce, 
and  remained  the  frontier  fortress  of  the  Romans  till  in 
the  time  of  Jovian  it  was  ceded  to  the  Persians.  After 
the  loss  of  Nisibis  the  emperor  Anastasius  in  507 
founded  to  the  north-west  the  fortress  of  Darse  or  Daras 
(the  modern  DAril),  also  called  Anastasiopolis,  which  from 
the  reign  of  Justinian,  who  increased  its  strength,  remained 
for  a  time  the  residence  of  the  du-x  Mesopotamia.  Besides 
these  strongholds,  many  fortified  posts  were  established 
by  the  Byzantine  empire  in  this  district.  Antoninopolis 
must  be  mentioned  as  an  important  town ;  this  was 
refortified  by  Constantino  under  the  name  of  Constantia, 
and  has  loft  its  ruins  near  Tela  between  Harran  and  Nisibis. 
.Mardin  too  was  a  fortress  of  a  similar  kind,  and  the  town 
of  Singara,  at  the  southern  foot  of  the  mountain  of  the 
same  name,  was  an  advanced  post  of  the  Roman  power. 


Tne  south  or  steppe  portion  of  Mesopotamia  was  from 
early  times  the  roaming-ground  of  AJabic  tribes ;  for 
Xenophon  gives  the  name  of  Arabia  to  the  district  on  the 
left  bank  of  the  Euphrates  to  the  west  of  the  KhAbiir-, 
and  elsewhere  it  is  frequently  stated  that  the  interior  at  a 
distance  from  the  rivers  was  a  steppe  inhabited  by  Arabes 
Scenitje  (Tent  Arabs).  Along  the  bank  of  the  two  great 
rivers  ran  a  bolt  of  cultivated  country,  and  the  rocky 
islands  of  the  Euphrates  were  also  occupied  by  a  settled 
population.  On  the  Euphrates,  beginning  towards  the 
north,  we  must  mention  first  Zaitah  or  Zautha,  south-east 
of  Circesium;  next  Corsothe,  at  the  mouth  of  the  Mascash; 
then  Anatho  or  Anathan,  the  modem  Ana ;  and  finally 
Is  (Hit).  On  the  Tigris  the  point  of  most  importance  is 
Cama;  (Katt-ai  of  the  Anabasis),  south  from  the  couth  of 
the  Great  Zab  near  the  present  Kal'at  SherkAt ;  and  not 
far  distant  towards  the  interior  was  Atrae  or  Hatrae,  also 
called  Hatra,  the  chief  town  of  the  Arab  tribe  of  the  Atreni. 
It  was  besieged  without  success  by  Trajan  and  Severus ; 
by  the  4th  century  it  was  already  destroyed ;  but  the 
interesting  ruins,  which  can  scarcely  be  visited  owing  to 
the  plundering  habits  of  the  Bedouins,  still  bear  the  name 
of  El-Hadhr.  They  lie  in  the  heart  of  the  steppe,  and 
were  formerly  well  supplied  with  water. 

All  these  districts  came  in  G40  a.d.,  or  pernaps  a  little 
earlier,  into  the  power  of  the  Arabs,  who  named  them 
Jezfra  (island)  or  Jeziret  Akiir,'  and  divided  them  according 
to  tribes  into  three  portions,  the  land  of  Bekr,  of  Rebi'a, 
and  of  Modhar.  The  district  of  Modhar  ran  along  the 
side  of  the  Euphrates,  and  its  chief  towns  were  Orfa  and 
Rakka ;  the  district  of  Rebi'a  comprised  the  plain  of 
Mosul  as  far  as  the  country  on  the  KhSbiir  (chief  towns 
Mosul  and  Nisibis),  and  the  district  of  Bekr  (Diyir  Bekr) 
the  more  mountainous  country  to  the  west  of  the  upper 
Tigris  (chief  town  Amid  or  Diarbekr).  In  general  the 
Arabs  consider  a  part  of  the  mountain  territories  which  lie 
between  the  two  rivers  to  belong  to  Jezira,  as  is  best  seen 
from  the  following  notice  given  by  Abulfeda: — 

"El-Jezira  is  the  land  between  the  Tigris  and  the  Euphrates,  yet 
many  places  on  tlie  other  side  of  the  Euphrates,  which  properly 
belong  to  Syria,  are  also  included,  as  well  as  places  and  even  dis- 
tricts on  the  east  side  of  the  Tigris.  Tlie  exact  boundary  line  thus 
runs  from  llalatia  by  Sumeisat,  Kal'at  er-Ri'im  (Eum-Kala  of  the 
maps),  and  Bire  (Birejik)  to  tho  point  opposite  ilembij,  and  then 
by_  Balis,  Er-Rakka,  Karkisiya,  ErRahaba  (on  right  bank),  and 
Hit  to  Anbar.  Mere  the  Euphrates  ceases -to  form  the  boundary, 
which  runs  across  to  the  Tigris  in  tho  direction  of  Tekrit,  and 
ascends  the  Tigris  as  far  as  Es-Sinn  (Senna)  to  El-Haditha  and 
ilosul,  thence  to  Jeziret  ibn  'Omar,  th(;n  to  Diarbekr,  and  so  back  to 
ll.alatia." 

From  the  Arabic  geographers  and  travellers  we  gain  the 
impression  that  a  great  part  of  Mesopotamia,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  the  southern  steppe  of  course,  must  at  that  time 
have  been  in  a  very  flourishing  condition ;  the  neighbourhood 
of  Nisibis  especially  is  celebrated  as  a  very  paradise.  lu 
fact  it  is  only  since  the  Turkish  conquest  of  the  country 
under  Sultan  Selim  in  1515  that  it  has  turned  into  a  desert 
and  gradually  lost  its  fertility.  As  the  nomadic  Arabs 
have  continually  extended  their  encroachments,  agriculttire 
has  been  forced  to  withdraw  into  the  mountains ;  and  this 
is  especially  true  of  the  western  portions  of  Mesopotamia, 
the  district  of  R.^s-'ain,  and  the  plain  of  Harran  and  Serilj, 
where  huge  mounds  give  evidence  that  the  whole  country 
was  once  covered  with  towns  and  villages.  Under  the 
Turks  El-Jezira  does  not  form  a  political  unity,  but  be- 
longs to  different  pashaliks. 

From  this  brief  survey  it  appears  that  Mesopotamia,  like 
Syria,  constitutes  an  intermediate  territory  between  the 
great   eastern  and   western  monarchies,2=Syria   inclining 


Philostratus  [c.  200  A,D.)  already  reports  that  the  AraKs  colled 


MESOPOTAMIA 


49i 


more  to  the  west,  and  Mesopotamia  to  the  east.  In 
Tirtue  of  its  position  it  frequently  formed  both  the  object 
and  the  scene  of  contest  between  the.  armies  of  those 
mighty  monarchies,  and  it  is  wonderful  how  a  country  so 
often  devastated  almost  always  recovered.  The  roads,  it  is 
true,  which  traversed  the  territory  were  not  mere  military 
highways,  but  the  main  routes  of  traffic  for  Central  Asia, 
Western  Asia,  and  E  irope.  It  is  only  in  modern  times, 
nnd  since  these  lines  of  commercial  intercourse  have 
ceased  to  be  followed,  that  the  general  condition  of  things 
has  been  so  entirely  altered. 

The  number  of  roads  which  in  ancient  times  traversed 
tlie  country  was  veiy  considerable ;  the  Euphrates  formed 
not  a  barrier  but  a  bond  between  the  nations  on  cither 
side ;  at  many  places  there  were  at  least  boat-bridges 
(zeugma)  across.  One  of  the  most  important  of  the 
ancient  crossing-places  must  be  sought,  where  in  fact  it  still 
exists,  at  Birejik,  the  ancient  Apamea-Zeugma.  From  this 
point  a  great  road  led  across  to  Edessa  (Orfa) ;  there  it 
divided  into  two  branches,  the  northern  going  by  Amid 
(Diarbekr)  and  the  otlmr  by  Mardin  and  Nisibis  to  Mosul 
(Nineveh).  lu  quite  recent  times,  in  order  to  avoid  the 
direct  r6ute  across  the  desert  and  through  the  midst  of  the 
Bedouins,  the  post-road  makes  a  great  circuit  from  Nisibis 
by  Jeziret  ibu'Omar  to  Mosul.  A  second  route  crossed 
the  Eujil'-rates  somewhat  more  to  the  south,  and  joined  the 
other  via  Harran  and  Rhessena.  The  principal  crossing 
of  the  earlier  times  (Xenophon)  'svas  at  Thapsacus,  almost 
opposite  Kakka;  and  it  will  be  remembered  also  how 
important  a  part  Thapsacus  (Tiphsah)  plays  in  the  Old 
Testament.  Sometimes  a  route  along  the  Euphrates  to 
Babylonia  was  followed,  as  is  still  frequently  done  by 
caravans  at  the  present  day ;  but  even  in  ancient  times 
this  cour.«e  was  attended  by  more  or  less  difficulty,  the 
country  being  occupied  by  the  chiefs  of  independent 
Arab  tribes,  with  whom  the  travellers  had  to  come  to 
terms. 

The  ancient  condition  of  things  must  consequently  be 
con.sidered  as  essentially  analogous  to  that  of  the  present 
day ;  the  central  districts  away  from  the  rivers  were  occu- 
pied at  certain  seasons,  according  as  they  yielded  pasture, 
by  nomadic  cattle-grazing  tribes,  the  physical  character  of 
the  country  being  then  and  now  the  same  on  the  whole  as 
that  of  the  SjTian  desert,  which  belongs  not  to  Syria 
but  properly  t-o  Arabia.  On  the  banks  of  the  rivers  were 
settled  half-nomadic  Arab  tribes, — tribes,  that  is,  which 
were  more  or  less  on  the  way  to  the  agricultural  stage,  or 
which,  having  become  altogether  agricultural,  had  never- 
theless, owing  to  frequent  intercourse  with  the  Bedouins, 
lost  little  of  their  original  character,  and  even  maintained 
their  independence.  The  same  movement  takes  place  over 
and  over  again  ;  Arab  tribes  migrating  from  Arabia,  that 
■  fficina  gentium,  gradually  settle  down  wherever  circum- 
■^tances  prove  favourable,  and  by  this  very  change  in  theii- 
mode  of  life  make  their  first  step  towards  civilization.  In 
this  way  a  continual  stream  of  Arabs  has  flowed  into 
the  civilized  countries  of  Mesopotamia.  On  the  Assyrian 
monuments  are  figures  of  Arabs  riding  on  camels ;  evidently 
the  Assyrians  had  can'ied  on  war  against  the  Bedouins 
settled  in  their  territory.  At  an  early  period  the  Tai  Arabs 
were  the  neighbours  of  the  Aramaeans,  and  consequently  all 
Arabs  bear  in  Syriac  the  name  of  Tay6y^.  The  district 
between  Jfosul  and  Nisibis  received  the  name  B^th '  ArbAyiS 
from  its-being  occupied  by  Arabs.  These  Tai  Arabs,  whose 
original  home  was  Central  Arabia,  arc  still  settled  partly 
near  Nisibis  and  partly  east  of  Mosul ;  but  they  have  to 
some  extent  lost  their  old  noble^Bedouin  manners.  ,  The 
wandering  Arab  tribe  *^ which "'af  the  present*  time  is 
dominant  in  Mesopotamia  is  the  Shanimar ;  they  have 
driven  back  the  AJaeze,  the  most  powerful, tribe  of  the 
10—4 


Syrian  desert.  It  is  only  two  or  three  generations  ago 
that  the  Shammar  came  from  Nejd ;  but  they  have  ah-eady 
broken  up  into  two  great  parties.  The  head  of  the  one 
division  is  FerhAn,  who  has  more  or  less  completely  sub- 
'  mitted  to  the  Turks,  and  has  consequently  obt.iined  the 
title  of  pasha ;  to  him  adhere  the  Shammar  tribes  between 
I  Mosul  and  Baghdad,  and  those  al.so  to  the  east  of  the  Tigris. 
!  The  head  of  the  tribes  who  roam  over  the  greater  part  of 
Mesopotamia— pasturing  their  camels  and  sheep  to  the 
east  of  the  Chaboras  in  the  colder  season  and  to  the  north 
in  the  hotter — is  the  chivalrous  Filris.  These  western 
I  tribes  are  totally  independent  of  the  Turkish  Government, 
and  have  offered  determined  opposition  to  the  attempts  of 
the  authorities  at  D^r  to  force  them  to  a  settled  way  of 
life;  they  still  lay  the  peasants  of  Mesopotamia  under 
contribution  by  exacting  Khuwwe,  "  brother-money,"  or  a 
portion  of  grain.  The  Shammar  live  in  almost  perpetual 
feud  with  their  relations  to  the  east,  and  especially  with  the 
Anezo  on  the  Syrian  bank  of  the  Euphrates,  the  so-called 
Shilmfye.  Many  other  Bedouin  tribes  might,  here  bo 
mentioned ;  but  it  may  be  enough  to  name  the  Deldm  on 
the  Euphrates  as  an  example  of  a  tribe  just  in  process  of 
becoming  agricultural.  In  the  northern  parts  of  Mesopo- 
tamia there  are  a  number  of  tribes  of  mingled  Kurds  and 
Arabs  which  have  to  a  greater  or  less  degree  abandoned 
their  tents  for  fixed  habitations  and  the  tillage  of  the 
ground;  such  are  the  Beraziye  near  Orfa,  the  Milliye 
between  Orfa  and  Mardin,  and  the  Kikfye  nearer  Mardin 
and  also  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Mosul.  It  is  extremely 
hard  to  obtain  trustworthy  statistical  information  about 
the  number  of  the  Bedouins ;  the  Shammar  may  have  a 
total  strength  of  some  3500  tents.  In  the  difficult  contests 
which  it  has  to  carry  on  with  those  independence-loving 
tribes,  the  Turlcish  Government  acts  in  general  on  the 
jjrinciple  climde  et  imjyera. 

The  Kurdish  element  only  appears  sporadically  in  the 
true  Mesopotamian  plain ;  but  the  Yezidis,  who  form  the 
popidation  of  the  Sinjar  range,  may  be  referred  to  this 
stock.  He  who  encounters  the  uncanny  figure  of  one  of 
these  people  will  hardly  be  able  to  restrain  a  slight  shudder, 
especially  if  he  remembers  the  graphic  descriptions  of  the 
Yezidi  robbers  in  Morier's  Aj/esha.  Of  the  old  Aramjcau 
peasantry  there  are  no  longer  any  important  remains  in  the 
plain,  the  Arama2ans  having  withdrawn  farther  into  the 
Kurdish  highlands,  where,  in  spite  of  their  wild  Kurdish 
neighbours,  they  are  more  secure  from  exactions  of  every 
kind.  The  plain  of  the  northern  country  of  the  two  rivers 
was  at  one  time  richly  cultivated,  and  owed  its  prosperity 
to  this  industrious  people,  who  formerly  played  so  distin- 
guished a  part  as  a  connecting  link  between  the  Persians 
and  the  Roman  empire  and  afterwards  between  the  Western, 
and  the  Arabian  world,  and  whose  highest  culture  was 
developed  in  this  very  region.  Quite  otherwise  is  it  now. 
Ill  the  plain  there  are  almost  no  remains  of  the  common 
Aramaean  tongue.  Apart  from  the  scattered  areas  in  which 
Kurdish  prevails,  the  ordinary  language  is  a  vulgar  Arabic 
dialect ;  but  both  Kurdish  and  Aramjean  (Syriac)  have 
exercised  an  influence  on  the  speech  of  the  Arab  peasant. 
Finally  it  must  be  mentioned  that  certain  Turcoman  hordesi 
roam  about  the  Mesopotamian  territory. 

In  climnte  and  in  the  character  of  its  soil,  as  well  as  in  its  ethno- 
graphic history,  Mesopotamia  holds  an  intermediate  position.  -  In 
this  aspect  also  we  must  maintain  the  division  into  two  quite  distinct 
zones.  Tlie  southern  half  consists  mainly  of  grey,  dreary,  flats 
covered  with  selenite  ;  and  ffvpsum  everywhere  makes  its  apnearanco 
a  little  below  the  surface  ;  bitumen  is  not  unfrequent,  and  ne»e  and 
there  it  rises  in  petroleum  wells.  In  the  .solid  strata  of  gypsum  aud 
marl  the  rivers  have  carved  out  valleys,  from  a  quarter  to  half  a  mile 
broad  and  from  40  to  50  or  even  100  feet  deep,  wliich  with  their  arable 
soil  contrast  with  the  barren  surface  o£  the  more  elevated  desert 
(chol).  Especially  below  Balis  there  are  marl-hills  capped  witli 
gvpsum.  and  alluvial  plains  (so-called  Juiw'ts)  of  considerable  exteut 

XVI.  —  7 


50 


MESOPOTAMIA 


have  been  formed.  '.  The  bauks  of  the  rivers  are  there  lined  with  a 
luxuriant  growth  of  tamarisks.  Occasional  swamps  and  small 
lagoons  occur ;  and  the  marl  shows  a  more  or  less  marked  efflores- 
cence of  salt.  In  tin's  part  of  the  country  fro»t  is  rare  even  in 
winter ;  in  siimmer  the  heat  is  of  extraordinary  intensity,  and 
during  the  whole  season  from  ^[ay  to  the  close  of  October  it  is  but 
slightly  modifiL-d  by  the  night-dews.  During  the  sand  storms 
wliich  frequently  blow  from  the  West  Arabian  desert,  the  tempera- 
ture may  rise  to  50°  C.  (122°  Fahr.),and  this  same  excess  of  heat  will 
then  prevail  through  seven  degrees  of  latitude  in  the  whole  valley  of 
the  Euphrates  and  Tigris  from  the  Persian  Gulf  to  the  foot  of  the 
mountains.  For,  considering  the  strong  radiation  which  takes 
place  over  what  is  now  the  uniform  surface  of  the  Mesopotamian 
soil  witli  its  almost  complete  absence  of  evaporation,  there  is 
nothing  to  hinder  this  warm  zone  extending  in  summer  to  the 
upper  half  of  the  country.  In  winter,  on  the  other  hand,  this  latter 
region  has  quite  a  diflferent  climate.  From  the  mild  coasts  of  the 
Mediterranean  the  cold  increases  from  west  to  east.  In  the  spurs 
of  the  Taurus,  consequently,  the  winter  cold  extends  far  to  the  south, 
and  the  influence  of  the  snow-covered  ridgos  spreads  far  into  the. 
Mesopotamian  ]>lain.  Snow  and  ice  are  thus  not  unfrequent  in  the 
higher  part  of  the  plain,  and  the  temperature  may  fall  as  low  as 
-10°  C.  (14"  Fahr.),  especially  if  the  cold  north  winds  are  blowing. 
That  inland  region  too  is  cut  off  from  the  influence  of  the  mild  air 
of  the  Muditerranean  by  the  coast  ranges.  For  this  reason  the 
vegetation  is  of  a  less  southern  character  than  that  of  the  Mediter- 
ranean countries  in  tlie  same  latitude.  In  tlie  spring  the  green  is 
soon  parched  out  of  existence.  In  this  way  the  northern  district 
of  Mesopotamia  combines  strong  contrasts,  and  is  a  connecting  link 
between  the  mountain  region  of  western  Asia  and  the  desert  of 
Arabia.  On  the  other  hand  the  country  to  the  south  of  Mesopotamia, 
or 'Irak,  has  a  warm  climate,  and  towards  the  Persian  Gulf  indeed 
the  heat  reaches  the  greatest  extremes. 

In  Upper  Mesopotamia,  strictly  so  called,  agi-iculture  has  sutVered 
an  extraordinary  decline;  in  spite  of  excellent  soil,  very  little  of  the 
land  is  turned  to  account.  In  the  western  district  the  fertile  red- 
brown  humus  of  the  Orfa  plain,  derived  from  the  lime  of  Nimrud 
Dagh,  extends  to  about  12  miles  south  of  Harran.^  With  a  greater 
rainfall,  and  an  artificial  distribution  of  the  water  such  as  existed 
in  olden  times,  agriculture  would  flourish.  If  spring  rains  are  only 
moderately  abundant,  wheat  and  barley  grow  to  a  great  height, 
and  yield  from  thirty  to  forty  fold.  Rice  is  also  grown  in  the  richly 
watered  hill-encircled  district  of  Seriij  and  on  the.  banks  of  the 
Khabur.  Next,  millet  and  sesamum  are  the  chief  crops, — the 
latter  being  grown  for  the  sake  of  its  oil,  as  the  olive  does  not 
succeed  in  this  region.  The  abundance  of  wheat  may  be  ^.itiniated 
from  the  fact  that  during  Layard's  residence  in  ftlosul  a  camel-load 
of  480  lb  was  worth  four  shillings,  Durra  {Holais  Sorghum  and 
H.  hlcolor),  lentils,  pease,  beans,  and  vetches  are  also  grown,  as  well 
as  cotton,  safBower,  hemp,  and  tobacco.  Medicago  sativa  furnishes 
fodder  for  horses.  Among  the  fruits  the  most  noteworthy  are  the 
cucumbers,  melons,  and  water-melons  planted  in  great  abundance 
on  the  banks  of  the  smaller  streams.  The  figs  of  the  Sinjar 
mountains  are  celebrated  for  their  exceptional  sweetness.  Timber 
trees  are  few  ;  plane  frees  and  white  poplars  are  planted  along 
the  streams,  auvl  a  kind  of  willow  and  a  sumach  flourish  on  the 
banks  of  the  Euphrates.  The  palm-trees  which  appear  on  the 
banks  of  both  the  rivers  farther  south  do  not  come  so  far  north. 
On  account  of  the  hot  diy  summer  the  orange  does  not  succeed. 
Of  the  great  forest  which  existed  (?)  near  Nisibis  in  the  time  of 
Trajan  no  trace  remains ;  but  the  slopes  both  of  the  Masius 
mountains  and  of  the  Jebel  'Abd-el  'Aziz,  as  well  as,  more  especi- 
ally, those  of  the  Sinjar  range,  are  still  covered  with  wood. 
i  The  wide  treeless  tracts  of  the  low  country  of  Mesopotamia  are 
covered  with  the  same  steppe  vegetation  which  prevails  from  Central* 
Asia  to  Algeria,  but  there  is  an  absence  of  a  great  many  of  the 
arborescent  plants  that  grow  in  the  rockier  and  more  irregular 
plateaus  of  western  Asia  and  especially  of  Persia.  This  comparative 
poverty  and  monotony  of  the  flora  is  partly  due  to  the  surface  being 
mainly  composed  of  detritus,  and  parily  to  the  cultivation  of  the 
country  in  remote  antiquity  having  ousted  the  original  vegetation 
and  left  behind  it  what  is  really  only  fallow  ground  untouched  for 
thousands  of  years.  Endless  masses  of  tall  weeds,  belonging  to  a  few 
species,  cover  the  faceof  the  country,— large  Cruciferse,  Cynarem,  and 
Vmbdlifcrm  disputin^j  the  possession  of  the  soil  in  company  with 
extraordinary  quantities  of  liquorice  {Qly^cyrrhiza  glabra  and 
echlnata)  as  well  as  Layon.ychinvi'a.Jid  the  white  ears  of  the  Impcrata. 
lu  autumn  the  withered  weeds  are  torn  up  by  the  wind  and  driven 
immense  distances.  Among  the  aromatic  plants,  which  even 
Xenophon  mentions  in  Mesopotamia,  the  first  place  belongs  to  the 
species  of  wormwood  {Artemisia),  which  cover  wide  areas,  and  the 
second  to  LabicUx,  such  as  species  of  thyme  and  Salvia,  which,  how- 
ever, become  rarer  in  the  low  country.  With  few  exceptions  there 
arc  none  but  cultivated  trees,  and  these  are  confined  to  tlie  irrigated 
districts  on  the  Euphiates  and  the  Shatt  ;  a  few  willows,  a  Pi/rtm, 
tamarisks,  a  Rhus,  a  Rubies,  on  the  banks  of  the  rivers,  and  the 
wiUow-like  Popuhts  cxq)hraiica,  which  grows  from  Dzungaria  to 


Morocco,  make  up  the  list  of  the  infSgenons  kinds.  In  the  wide 
belt  of  swamp  which  lines  the  Shatt  el-' Arab  in  the  low  country  of 
'Irak  'Arabi  there  are  boundless  reaches  of  gigantic  sedge  inhabited 
by  a  rich  fauna,  especially  of  birds  such  as  pelicans  and  flan«ngocs. 
From  the  south,  or  in  other  words  from  tne  tnie  desert  and  oasis 
country  of  Arabia,  the  date-palm  spreads  up  the  valley  to  some 
little  distance  above  Baghdad;  and  especially  along  the  Shatt  it 
yields  rich  crops  of  fruit,  which  are  exported  to  India.  With  the 
exception  of  a  tew  truffles,  capers,  liquorice,  and  such  like,  there  are 
few  wild  food-plants.  The  cycle  of  vegetation  begins  in  November. 
The  firstwinter  rains  clothe  the  plain  with  verdure,  and  by  the 
beginning  of  the  year  a  number  of  bulbous  plants  are  in  bloom — 
Aiiiaryllidm,  Liliacex,  SLXidColchicuvi,  The  full  summer  develop- 
ment is  reached  in  June  ;  and  by  the  end  of  August  everything  is 
burnt  up. 

The  lion  is  said  to  roam  as  far  as  the  Khabur;  but  in  any  case  it 
is  at  least  much  less  frequent  than  in  the  time  of  the  Ass3'rian8, 
when  the  lion-hunt  was  a  recognized  form  of  spori.  The  wild  ass 
too  is  very  rare  ;  but  on  the  other  hand  wild  swine,  hyaenas,  jackals, 
cheetahs,  and  foxes  are  extremely  abundant.  Wolves  are  said  to 
exist  in  the  plain,  and  among  others  a  variety  of  black  wolf  {Canis 
hjcaon).  Particularly  numerous  in  the  steppe  are  th6  antelope 
species ;  and  herds  of  gazelles  are  frequently  met  with.  Beavere  are 
said  to  have  been  observed  on  the  Euphrates.  Jerboas,  moles,  por- 
cupines, and  especially  the  common  European  rat,  abound  in  the 
desert ;  bats  are  numerous  ;  and  the  long-haired  desert  hare  is  also 
found.  Among  the  domestic  animals  in  tuis  steppe  country  the 
camel  holds  the  first  place ;  and  next  come  goats  and  sheep ;  but  the 
Bedouin  sheep  is  not  the  ordinary  fat-tailed  variety.  The  common 
buffalo  is  often  kept  by  the  Arabs  and  Turcomans  on  the  Euphrates 
and  the  Tigris  ;  and  on  the  Euphrates  we  also  find  the  Indian  zebu, 
which  is  still  more  frequent  in  the  districts  farther  to  the  south. 
Bird-life  is  very  rare  in  tlte  southern  parts  ol.^the  plain  ;  though 
on  the  Euphrates  there  are  vultures,  owls,  ravens;  &c.,  as  well  .i.'i 
falcons  {"i  Tinnunculus  alaudarius)  which  are  trained  to  hunt. 
Among  game-birds  are  some  kinds  of  doves,  francolins,  part- 
ridges, wild  ducks  and  geese,  and  in  the  steppe  bustards.  The 
ostrich  seems  almost  to  have  disappeared.  Largo  tortoises  are 
numerous. 

In  conclusion  it  is  necessary  in  supplement  to  t"he  article  Irak 
to  say  something  of  the  district  of  Babylonia,  often  (though  wrongly) 
included  under  the  name  Mesopotamia.  Here  we  have  to  do  with 
a  fundamentally  different  region,  for  it  consists  in  the  main  of 
alluvial  formations,  a  few  scattered  reaches  of  sand  only  now  and 
then  appearing  in  the  level  depression  not  tilled  up  by  the  alluvium. 
The  mass  of  solid  matter  which  the  rivers  bring  down  and  deposit 
is  very  considerable  ;  it  has  been  ascertained  that  the  maximum 
proportion  for  the  Euphrates  in  the  month  of  Januarv  is  -gVi  ^^d 
at  other  times  ^-j ;  lor  the  Tigris  the  maximum  is  y^.  As 
regards  the  physical  character  of  the  allu\ia,  in  the  most  northerly 
portion  the  soil  is  pebbly,  the  pebbles  consisting  almost  solely  of 
variously  coloured  flints  and  occasional  small  fragments  of  gypsum. 
This  is  succeeded  by  a  continuous  formation  of  clayey  soil,  in  part 
argillaceous  and  argillo-calcareous,  but  covered  with  mould  and 
sand,  or  the  more  tenacious  clay  of  frequent  inundations. 

In  general,  the  northern  plains  of  the  interior  have  a  slight 
but  well-deQued  southerly  inclination  with  local  depressions.  The 
territory  undulates  in  the  central  districts,  and  then  sinks  away  into 
mere  marshes  and  lakes.  The  clay,  of  a  deep  blue  colour,  abounds 
with  marine  shells,  and  shows  a  strong  efflorescence  of  natron  and 
sea-salt,  the  latter  derived  from  the  decomposition  of  vegetable 
matter.  When  the  aoil  is  parched  up  the  appearance  of  tho 
mirage  (serab)  is  very  common.  As  extensive  inundations  in 
spring  are  caused  by  both  the  rivers,  especially  the  Tigris,  great 
alterations  must  have  taken  place  in  this  part  of  the  country 
in  the  course  of  thousands  of  years.  It  has  been  asserted  that  in 
former  times  the  alluvial  area  at  the  mouth  of  the  river  increased 
one  mile  in  the  space  of  thirty  years ;  and  from  this  it  has  been 
assumed  that  about  the  6th  century  B.C.  the  Persian  Gulf  must 
have  stretched  from  45  to  55  miles  farther  inland  than  at  present. 
The  actual  rate  of  increase  at  the  present  time  is  about  72  feet  per 
annum.  For  this  reason  we  cannot  decide  much  iu  regard  to  the 
former  physical  configuration  of  southern  Babylonia;  but  it  is  at  least 
certain  that  the  Euphrates  and  the  Tigris  reached  the  sea  as  inde- 
pendent rivers.  Ritter  estimates  that  in  the  time  of  Alexander  the 
Great  the  embouchures  were  still  separated  by  a  good  day's  journey ; 
and,  though  they  cannot  now  bo  traced,  great  alterations  have 
probably  taken  place  in  the  upper  portions  of  the  rivers  as  well  as 
in  the  country  near  the  mouths.  Assyriologists  tell  us  that  more 
than  thirty-five  canals  are  known  by  name  f>*om  the  Babylonian 
period  ;  but  it  is  extremely  difficult,  or  rather  it  has  proved  hitherto 
impossible,  to  identify  them  either  with  those  actually  existing  or 
with  those  mentioned  in  classical  authors,,  in  the  Babylonian 
Talmud,  or  in  Arabian  writers.  To  the  west  of  the  Euphrates  waa 
to  bo  found  the  Pallacopas  channel,  and  we  still  have  the  Hindiy* 
channel  in  the  same  quarter.  The  country  between  the  rivers  more 
particularly  was  traversed  by  such  secondary  branches.    Begiuninjf 


MESOPOTAMIA 


ifrom  the  Euphrates  we  must  mention  the  Saklamye  cliannel  (Nahr 
'Is4),  the  Nahr  Melik,  the  Nahr  Zcmbeiani'yc,  and  c.™ciallj'  the 
Nahr-en-Nil,    constructed    by    tlie    famous    Omayyau    governor 
Hajjdj.     Ea»tv.arJs  from  the  Tigris  strikes  the  great  Nahrawan 
channel ;  and  riglit  through  the  country  of  tlie  tno  rivers  runs 
the  Shatt-el  Hai  from  Kiit-el-'Amara,  almost   due  south  to  the 
Euphrates,  parallel  with  the  Shatt-el-Kclir.      Many  of  these  have 
been  silted  up;  from  those,  however,  which  are  still  maintained 
there  is  derived  a  considerable  revenue,  and   by  the  restoration 
of  many  of  the  old  channels,  traces  of  which  are  met  with  at 
every  step,  the  country  might  be  again  raised  to  that  condition 
of  higli  civilization  which  it  enjoyed   not  only  in  antiquity  but 
partly  even  in  the  time  of  the  later  caliphs.     The  classical  writers 
are  unanimous  in  their  admiration  of  this  country  ;  and  it  is  at 
least  certain  that  nowhere  else  in  the  whole  world  was  the  principle 
of  the  application  of  canals  to  the  exigencies  of  agriculture  worked 
out  so  successfully.     The  most  luxuriant  vegetation  was  diffused 
over  the  whole  country  ;  and  three  crops  were  obtainable  in  the 
year.     It  is  this  alone  which  makes  it  intelligible  how  this  region 
in  the  most  remote  antiqnity  attained  a  high  civilization,  and  for 
centuries  played,  it  may  be  said,  one  of  the  principal  parts  in  the 
history  of  the  world.      In  the  matter  of  civilization,  indeed,  no 
country  of  the  ancient  world  was  its  equal ;  a  multitude  of  great 
cities  once  flourished  within  its  borders.     Even  the  Arabic  writers 
are  unanimous   in   regard   to  the   extremely  favourable   influence 
which  the  character  of  the  country  exercised  on  the  intellectual 
activity,  spirit,  and  capacity  of  its  inhabitants.     Wo  need  not  here 
discuss   the  question  recently  started  as  to  whether  the  Biblical 
garden  of  Eden  is  to  be  sought  in  this  locality,  two  canals  of  the 
Euphrates  and  Tigris  being  identified  with  the  Gihon  and  Pison  of 
Gen.  ii.^  but  it  is  certain  at  least  that  this  lower  country  of  the 
two  rivers  might  well  pass  in  antiquity  for  the  ne  plus  ultra  of 
civilization,  and  exercised  the  most  powerful  political  and  intel- 
lectual influence  on  the  surrounding  regions.     The  question  often 
raised  as  to  whether  the  Semites  were  derived  from  this  district 
may  also  be  left  untouched.     From  the  Bible  we  know  that  an 
ancient   name   of  the  district  was  Shinar,  though  this  has   not 
hitherto  been  discovered  in  the  cuneiform  inscriptious.     The  name 
Rush  is  applied  in  the  Bible  to  its  oldest  non-Semitic  inhabitants. 
The  northern  half  of  the  country  was  called  Akkad,  the  southern 
Sttiner.     But  it  must  not  be  forgotten  that  the  rivers  never  formed 
ethnographic  and  political  boundaries  ;  and  thus  Sumer  extended 
to  the  coast  of  the  Persian  Gulf  and  Akkad  as  far  as  the  Lower  Zab, 
the  eastern  afllucnt  of  the  Tigris.     As  a  less  ancient  designation 
of  the  whole  country  may  be  reckoned  mat  Ktilda,  the  country  of 
the  Chaldceans  (Hebr.,  erels  Kasdtm)  ;  originally  Kalda  is  said  to 
have  designated  central  Babylonia.     Of  still  later  date  is  the  name 
derived  from  the  capital,  the  country  of  Babel  {ercts  Babel),  as  an 
equivalent  of  which  m4t  BMtlH  appears  in  the  cuneiform  inscriptions 
(in  the.  Darius  lists  Babtrxi).     From  this  was  developed  the  Glreek 
designation  Babylonia,  BaRuKuvia  (as  early  as  Xenophon).    That  the 
country  was  densely  peopled  may  be  gathered  from  the  fact  that  about 
704  B.C.  eighty-nine  fortified  towns  and  eight  hundred  and  twenty 
smaller  places  in  the  Chaldasan  country  were  captured  during  one 
military  expedition.     Of  separate  districts  of  the  country  we  may 
mention  Karduniash,  the  district  in  the  vicinity  and  especially  to  the 
north  of,  Babylon  ;  and  southward  by  the  sea-coast  the  important 
country  of  Bit  Yakln,  governed  by  kings  of  its  own.    At  a  later  date 
we  find  on  the  coast  and  at  the  moutli  of  the  Pallacopas  canal  the 
maritime  town  of  Teredon,  which  is  also  mentioned  by  the  classical 
writers.     Besides  Babylon  and  Borsippa,  the  larger  cities  were  the 
double  city  of  Sippar  (Sefarvayim,  2  Kings  xvii.  24,  31)  and  Akkad 
on  the  left  bank  of  the  Euphrates  on  the  present  J^'ahr  'Isa  ;  Erech, 
i.e.,  Warka,  on  the  left  bank  of  the  Euphrates;  Ur  ou  the  Palla- 
copas, not  far  from  the  place  where  the  Shatt-el-Hai  falls  into  the 
Tigris  ;  Kippur,  i.e..  Tell  Niffer  ;  Kutha  (2  Kings  xvii.  24),  Kahie 
(Gen.  X.   10),  in  the  north,  Opis  at  the  junction  of  the  Adhem 
(Physcus)  with  the  Tigris.      Huge  mounds  give  evidence  of  the 
extent  of  these  cities.     A  number  of  the  canals  were  navi^^ble 
and  at  the  same  time,   when   the  bridges  were  destroyed,"  they 
formed  defensive  moats  against  the  incursion  of  enemies  from  the 
north.     And  the  same  purpose  was  served  by  the  great  wall  (after- 
wards the  Median  Wall  of  the  Greeks)  which  ran  across  the  country 
from  river  to  river  between  the  points  of  their  nearest  approach. 

Duriug  the  period  of  Greek  domination  a  Greek  city,  Seleucia, 
which  afterwards  attained  great  prosperity,  was  founded  by 
Scleucus  I.  in  on  extremely  favourable  situation  on  the  right  bank 
of  the  Tigris.  In  the  south  of  the  country,  too,  there  was  a  Greek 
seaport  town  first  called  Alexandria  on  the  Tigris  and  afterwards 
Antiochia.  After  the  conquest  of  Babylonia  by  the  Parthians 
(130  B.C.)  a  small  Arabian  kingdom  grew  up  in  those  parts  called 
Characene  or  Mesene,  after  the  town  of  Chara;  or  Maisan.  It  was 
under  Parthian  and  for  a  time  under  Roman  supremacy.  The  city 
of  Vologesia,  founded  by  Vologeses  to  the  south-west  of  Babvlon, 
nea*  Ullais,  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  later  Kufa,  was  one  of  the 
capitals  of  the  Parthian  power.  In  the  time  of  the  Sasanids,  too, 
as  well  as  in  that  of  the  Parthians,  the   country  of  the  lower 


51 

Euphrates  and  Tigris  played  a  leading  part ;  it  formed  in  fact  th-* 
mam  centre  of  the  Persian  kingdom.  The  city  of  Ctesiphon, 
founded  by  the  Greeks  on  the  east  side  of  the  Tigris  opposite 
beleucia,  was  the  w-jnler  residence  of  the  Parthian  kings,  and  the 
JITJ'""^  ."I"'*'  »f.  "'«,  Sasanids.  Under  the  name  of  Madain 
(IJe  Cities)  It  contuiued  to  flourish  till  the  rise  of  Baghdad  in  the 
9th  century  The  neighbourhood  of  Ctesiphon  was  Called  in  the 
tune  of  the  Sasanids  Sunstan,  a  translation  of  the  Aramarau  desi". 
nation  Betn-Aranaye,  "country  of  the  Syrians,"  for  the  land  w°i 
mainly  rvMi.ied  by  Aramaans.  By  a  notable  substitution  tl,- 
Arabs  aftenvarils  gave  the  name  Nabat,  i.e.,  NabatiEan.s  to  the-- 
Aramsean  peasantry,  who,  it  may  be  added,  were  already  found  ■'! 
these  parts  at  the  time  of  the  Babylonian  empire. 

On  tlie  west  side  of  the  Tigris  the  Arab  kingdom  of  Hi'ra  formed 
the  bulwark  of  the  Sasanid  power.  As  the  result  mainly  of  the 
battle  of  Kadisiya  (east  of  Hira)  in  635  A.D.,  the  whole  of  this 
wealthy  country  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  Moslems,  and  it  soon  con- 
stituted the  centre  of  their  ijower,  especially  when  the  Abbasids 
with  true  political  insight,  transferred  thither  the  capital  of  the 
empire  and  founded  Baghdad.  The  chief  cities  of  the  older  Arabi" 
period  were  Kiifa  (in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  earlier  Hira  to  the 
south  of  ancient  Babylon)  and  Basra  (or  Bi'S.sonAH,  q  v.)  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  the  earlier  Maisan.  After  these  two  cities  the 
country  was  divided  into  the  Sawad,  "rich  arable  district"  of 
Basra  and  that  of  Kufa.  Sawad  was  also  employed  as  a  name  for 
the  whole  country  ;  and  more  or  less  identical  with  this  designa- 
tion is  the  name  'Irak  still  in  use.  Sometimes  also  the  term  Sawad- 
el- Irak  is  employed  ;  but  at  a  later  date  the  country  is  distinguished 
as  Irak  Arabi  (Arabian  'Irak)  from  the  Persian  'Irak  'Ajemi  to  the 
east,  the  ancient  Jledia.  The  Arabian  geographer  Yakut  makes  the 
distinction  that  the  country  called  Sawad  reaches  farther  to  tha 
north  (viz.,  to  the  district  of  the  Upper  Zab). 

Abulfeda  gives  the  boundaries  of  Irak  as  follows:—"  In  the  west 
of  the  country  lie  El-Jezii-a  and  the  desert,  in  the  south  the  desert, 
the  Persian  Gulf,  and  Khuzistan,  in  the  east  the  mountain  country 
as  far  as  Hohvan  (near  the  principal  pass  through  the  Zagrus 
range).  Thence  the  boundary  runs  again  towards  Mesopotamia. 
Thus  the  greatest  breadth  of  'Irak  is  in  the  north,  and  its  narrow 
extremity  is  formed  by  the  island'  'Abbadan  in  the  Shatt-el-' Arab 
(the  united  Euphrates  and  Tigris)  to  the  south  of  Basra?'  From 
what  has  been  said  it.appears  that 'Irak  extended  far  beyond  the 
country  between  Euphrates  and  Tigris.  '  Abulfeda  says  clearly  that 
Irak  lies  on  the  Tigris  as  Egypt  on  the  Nile  ;  for  according  to  this 
view  the  Tigris  flows  through  the  middle  of  the  country.  'Irak 
consequently  lies  between  30°  and  34"'  30'  N.  lat.  and  between  44' 
and  48°  30'  E.  long. ;  of  its  area  it  is  impossible  to  form  an  estimate 
under  such  varying  conditions.     For  some  details  see  Baghdad. 

From  the  union  of  the  rivers  upwards,  in  the  case  of  the  Euphrates 
as  far  as  26°  N.  lat.  (above  Eakka),  in  that  of  the 'Tigris  to  35°  N. 
lat,  the  valleys  are  known  as  ei-':6r,  the  depression,  in  opposition  to 
the  more  elevated  desert-plateau.  It  has  been  surmised  that  in  thjs 
name  is  to  be  recognized  the  Diira  of  the  Old  Testament  (Daniel 
iii.  1). 

Very  little  of  the  ancient  condition  of  the  country  has  been  pre- 
served ;  and  there  are  now  but  few  remains  of  ancient  buildings, 
scarcity  of  stone  having  all  along  led  to  the  use  of  bricks.  'Irak 
has  played  its  part.  It  is  only  by  the  expenditure  of  immense 
sums,  far  beyond  the  financial  capacity  of  the  Turkish  Govern- 
ment, that  the  ancient  canals  could  be  restored  and  the  swamps 
formed  by  them  drained.  The  whole  land  falls  into  two  unequal 
portions, — an  extensive  dry  steppe  with  at  any  rate  a  healthy 
desert  climate,  and  an  unhealthy  region  of  swamps.  There  is  a 
good  deal  more  agriculture  along  the  Euphrates  than  along  the 
Tigris  ;  but  swamps,  with  almost  impenetrable  reed  tliickets,  com- 
posed of  a  kind  oi  Agrostis,  are  at  the  same  time  much  more  exten- 
sive. The  slightly  more  elevated  districts  are  the  special  habitat 
of  the  date  palm,  which  by  itself  forms  dense  groves  bordering  the' 
banks  particularly  on  the  lower  Euphrates,  for  a  distance  of  several 
days'  journey.  This  part  of  the  country  consequently  has  a  some- 
what monotonous  but  in  its  own  way  imposing  aspect.  A  luxu- 
riant vegetation  of  water-plants  is  to  be  found  in  the  swamps, 
which  are  the  haunt  of  numerous  wild  beasts — wild  swine,  lions, 
different  kinds  of  aquatic  animals  and  birds.  The  swamps  aro 
inhabited  by  a  wild  race  of  men,  dark  of  hue,  with  many  negroes 
amongst  them.  They  live  in  reed  huts,  and  cultivate  rice  ;  and 
they  weave  straw  mats.  In  the  main  they  keep  pretty  free  both  of 
the  Turkish  Government  and  of  the  semi-Bedouins  and  Bedouins  of 
'Irak.  The  Khazael  especially  who  dwell  to  the  south  of  ancient 
Babylon  often  give  the  Government  trouble,  through  their  passion 
for  independence.  Less  turbulent  are  the  Bedouins  in  the  interior 
of  the  country — the  Zobeid,  the  Afaij,  and  the  Abu  Muhammed ;  but 
oil  the  other  hand  the  Beni  Lam  (7500  tents  strong),  who  occupy  the 
great  tract  of  country  east  of  the  Tigris  to  the  south  of  Baghdad, 
have  often  been  a  source  of  great  annoyance  to  the  pashas  of  that 
city.  A  still  more  difficult  task  is  the  management  of  the  Sham- 
mar,  who  come  and  pitch  their  tents  to  the  south-east  of  Baghdad  ; 
and  also  the  Muntefitch  on  the  southern  Euphrates  put  the  whole  ad-. 


62 


M  E  S  —  M  E  S 


miiiistrative  and  diplomatic  skill  of  the  Turkish  olTicialsto  the  test. 
The  Turkish  influence  has  here  made  at  one  time  great  advance 
and  at  another  lost  all  the  ground  it' had  gained, — the  rich  and 
powerful  sheikhs  of  the  Muntcfilch  soraetiiiies  becoming  for  a  season 
rulers  over  the  whole  of  Southern  'Irak  and  even  over  the  town  of 
Basra.  The  present  writer  once  visited  tlic  great  sheikh  Kasir  in 
his  camp  near  Siik-csh-Shiyukh  ;  and  he  received  the  impression 
of  having  to  do  with  a  very  remarkable  and  astute  personag,?, 
I^The  old  Syrian  population  of  'Iiuk  has  almost  entirely  dis- 
api^arcd ;  the  few  remnants  left  are  distinguished  by  a  'special 
religion,  in  regard  to  which  see  the  article  Mand^eans.  Etlmo- 
p^phically  the  country  is  subject  to  a  double  iiiflueuce.  Ou  the 
one  hand  the  connexion  with  Nejd,  the. central  plateau  of  Arabia, 
continues  uninterrupted ;  the  emigration  from  that  region  being 
mainly  directed  towards  'Irak  and  Jezira,  Tn  Baghdad  even,  the 
'Agel-Bcdouins  from  Central  Arabia  have  a  quarter  of  their  own. 
(With  the  earnings  obtained  in  these  i-ich  districts  the  emigrants 
return  to  their  homes.  But  quite  as  strong  at  least  is  the  influ- 
ence of  Persia.  Persian  customs  are  in  fashion  ;  in  Baghdad 
there  is  an  important  Pei"sian  quarter  ;  and  Kerbela  and  Jleshed 
*Aii  to  the  west  of  the  Euphrates  may  be  considered  regular 
Persian  "encbves."  In  these  places  are  buried  the  son-in-law  of 
Moliammed,  the  caliph  Ali,  and  his  son  Hosein  (in  Kerbela),  the 
chief  saints  of  the  Shiite  sect ;  and  their  tombs  are  not  only  shrines 
of  pilgrimage  to  the  living,  but  the  dead  are  brought  by  countless 
caravans  from  Persia  to  be  buried  in  ground  which  they  have  made 
holy.  The  neighbourhood  of  Kerbela  reeks  with  the  odour  'of 
corpses ;  aud  from  the  midst  of  them  pestilence  has  often  begun  its 
march.  Throughout  the  whole  of  'Iiuic  the  Sbiites  have  mauy  ad- 
herents,— for  example,  the  Khazael  already  mentioned.  Persian 
influence  prevails  on  the  Arab  population  of  'Irak,  and  the  inter- 
mingling of  the  races  can  still  be  very  clearly  traced  ;  in  this  dis- 
tant corner  of  the  Turkish  empire  a  more  international  tone  prevails 
than  in  any  other  district.  And,  however  sl.iall  when  compared 
with  former  times  the  commercial  and  intellectual  intercourse  of 
various  nations  in  these  regions  may  be  at  the  present  day,  the 
attentive  observer  must  notice  that  such  intercourse  does  still 
exist,  though  within  restricted  limits.  No  trace,  indeed,  is  to  be 
found  of  that  rich  intellectual  development  which  was  produced 
in  the  time  of  the  calijihs  through  the  reciprocal  action  of  Persian 
and  Arabic  elements.  Still  the  quickwitt^ness  of  the  inhabitants 
of  'Irak  makes  a  decided  impression  on  the  traveller  passing  through 
Asiatic  Turkey  ;  and  one  might  venture  to  prophesy  that  the 
country  might  to  some  extent  recover  its  former  position  in  the 
world,  especially  if  English  influence  from  India  were  more  widely 
extended,  and  should  lead  to  the  construction  of  a  railway.  The 
trade  which  passes  through  'Irak  is  even  now  not  unimportant ; 
horses,  for  example,  are  expoited  in  considerable  numbers  from 
southern  'Imk  to  India.  But  it  might  be  very  much  improved,  as 
the  country,  it  is  said,  could  support  five  hundred  times  as  many 
inhabitants  as  it  actually  contains.  Thei-e  is  also  a  considerable 
export  of  dates,  a  fruit  which  forros  the  chief  sustenance  of  a  great 
number  of  the  inhabitants  ;  and  the  breeding  of  cattle  {especially 
buffaloes)  is  extensively  carried  on.  Only  a  few  steamboats  as  yet  ? 
navigate  the 'majestic  nvers.  Communication  by  water  is  carried  J 
on  by  means  of  the  naost  primitive  craft.  Goods  are  transported  j 
in  the  so-called  "  terrades,"  moderately  big  high-built  vessels,  i 
which  also  venture  out  into  the  Persian  Gulf  as  far  as  Kuwet. 
Passengers  are  conveyed,  especially  on  the  Euphrates,  in  the 
meshh^,  a  very  long  and  narrow  boat,  mostly  T)ushed  along  the 
river  bank  with  poles.  The  Mesopotamiau  *'kelleks" — rafts  laid 
on  goatskin  bladders — come  down  as  far  as  Baghdad,  where  round 
boats  made  of  plaited  reeds  jiitched  with  asphalt  are  in  use.  At 
Basra,  on  the  other  hand,  we  see  the  "belem,"  boats  of  a  large 
size,  having  the  appearance  of  being  hollowed  out  of  tree  trunks, 
and  partly  in  fact  so  constructed.  Throughout  'Irak  in  general 
Indian  influence  is  paitially  at  work  ;  in  the  hot  summer  months, 
for  instance,  when  the  natives  live  in  underground  apartments 
(serdab),  the  Indian  punkah  is  used  in  the  bouses  of  the  rich.  As 
regards  language,  the  local  Arabic  dialect  has  evidently  been 
affected  on  the  one  hand  by  Persian,  on  the  other  by  the  Bedouin 
forms  of  speech. 

Sec  Rltl-pr.  Dlf  ErdiuntU  von  Alien,  2(t  e<L  vol.  vli.,  10th  and  11th  parts,  Berlin, 
1843. 1844 ;  Cliesncy.  Expedition/or  the  Survey  o/the  Riven  Euphrates  and  Tigris, 
2  vol3.,  London,  1850;  W.  Alnswurth,  Researches  in  Assyria,  Bahy/onia,  and 
Chatdxa,  London,  1838  ;  Fr.  Delitzsch.  Wo  lag  das  Parodies  t  Leipsic,  1881.  Map; 
Kicpeit,  Die  Eupkr'at-  und  Tigrisldnder,  Berlin,  1854.  (A.  SO.) 

MESSfiNE,  the  chief  city  of  Messenia,  founded,  under 
the  auspices  of  Epaminondas,  as  a  bulwark  against  the 
Spartans.  After  the  battle  of  Leuctra  that  general  sent 
to  all  the  exiled  Messonians, — in  Africa,  Sicily,  or  Italy, -^ 
and  invited  tliem  to  return  to  the  land  of  their  fathers. 
Many  came  with  eagerness,  and  in  369  B.C.  the  city  was 
built  by  the  combined  army  of  Thebans  under  Epaminondas 
and  Afgives  under  Epiteles,  assisted   bv  the  Messeiiians 


themselves.  The  site  was  chosen  in  conformity  with  a 
vision  which  appeared  to  Epaminondas,  and  the  walls 
were  raised  to  the  sound  of  flutes  playing  the  airs  of 
Sacadas  and  Pronomus.  The  citadel  was  erected  on 
the  summit  of  Mount  Ithome,  and  the  city  on  its  southern 
slope  and  in  the  adjoining  valley.  City  and  citadel  were 
enclosed  by  a  wall  47  stadia  in  length.  Near  the  centre 
of  tlie  city  was  the  agora,  with  a  famous  spring  called 
Arsinoe,  and  various  temples  and  statues,  among  the  latter 
an  iron  statue  of  Ejiaminondas.  The  Hierothysion  con- 
tained many  statues  of  gods  and  heroes,  among  them  a 
bronze  statue  of  Epaminonda.s.  In  the  gymnasium  were 
statues  of  Hermes,  Hercules,  and  Theseus  by  Egyjjtian 
artists.  In  the  stadium  was  a  bronze  statue  of  the  great 
hero  ■  Aristomenes,  who  had  a  sepulchral  monument  else- 
where in  the  city.  On  the  summit  of  the  citadel  was  a 
famous  spring  called  Clepsydra,  and  near  it  a  temple  of 
Zeus  Ithomatas,  with  a  statue  by  the  famous  Argive  artist 
Ageladas,  executed  originally  for  the  Jlcssenian  Helots 
who  settled  in  Naupactus  (see  Messenia).  It  was  in 
honour  of  this  statue  that  the  festival  of  the  Ithomaea  was 
performed. 

The  situation  of  Messene  is  one  of  the  finest  and  most 
romantic  in  the  world.  The  view  of  Mount  Ithome,  with 
its  level  summit  and  its  ancient  and  mediajval  ruins,  as 
one  issues  from  the  Langadha  Pass  in  the  Taygetus 
mountains,  is  beautiful  beyond  description.  And  the 
view  from  the  summit  of  the  mountain  itself,  which  rises, 
steep  and  rugged,  to  the  height  of  2631  feet,  and  is 
crov.Tied  by  the  ruins  of  fortifications  of  Cydoiaean  work- 
manship, is  enchanting,  hardly  equalled  by  any  other  in 
Greece.  Near  the  middle  of  the  ruins  of  the  lower  city 
stands  a  wretched  vUlage  named  JIavrommati  (Black  Eye), 
so  called  from  the  Turkish  name  of  the  spring  Arsinoe, 
which  still  flows  as  plentifully  as  in  the  old  day.s.  These 
ruins  are  the  most  imposing  in  Greece,  and  furnish  the 
finest  existing  specimen  of  Hellenic  military  architecture. 
Almost  the  entire  circuit  of  the  ancient  walls  can  be  traced, 
and  in  some  places  they  are  standing  to  their  full  height. 
They  are  built  of  large  hewn  stones  laid  in  beautifully 
regular  layers  without  mortar,  and  are  surmounted  by 
tower.5,  of  which  there  seem  to  have  been  originally  over 
thirty.  Seven  of  these  are  still  in  a  good  state  of  preser- 
vation, and  bear  testimony  to  the  thoroughness  of  the  great 
eiiteriirise  undertaken  by  Epaminondas.  Two  gates  can 
still  be  distinguished,  one  on  the  slope  of  Mount  Ithome, 
the  other  (the  northern  or  Megalopolis  gate)  on  the  north 
side.  The  Litter  is  a  dipylon  or  double  gate,  opening  into 
a  circular  enclosure  62  feet  in  diameter.  The  walls  of 
this  enclosure  are  built  with  extreme  care,  and  the  soffit 
stone  of  the  inner  portal,  which  has  .been  partly  moved 
from  its  place,  reminds  one  of  the  lintel  of  the  so-called 
treasury  of  Atreus  at  Mycenae.  It  is  18  ft.  8  in.  x  -t  f t.  2 
in.  X  2  ft.  10  in.  Within  the  town  several  ancient  sites 
can  still  be  distingtiished — the  stadium,  the  theatre,  and 
several  temples. 

MESSENIA  (in  Homer  Messene),  a  state  of  Greece,  and 
the  most  westerly  of  the,  three  peninsulas  of  the  Pelopon- 
nesus. Its  area  is  a  httle  over  1160  square  miles.  It  is 
separated  from  Elis  and  Arcadia  on  the  north  by  the  river 
Neda  and  the  Nomian  mountains,  and  from  Laconia  on  the 
east  by  the  lofty  range  of  Taygetus.  The  other  sides  are 
washed  by  the  sea,  which  indents  its  shores  with  four  gulfs 
or  bays, — Messenia,  Phwnicus,  Pj'lus,  and  Cyqiarissus.  On 
its  south-w.est  corner  are  the  (Enussa;  Islands,  and  ojipo- 
site  the  bay  of  Pylus  (Navarino)  the  famous  Sphacteria. 
The  interior  is  divided  by  mountain  chains  into  fertile 
[ilains,  watered  by  rivers,  the  chief  of  which  is  the  Pamistis 
(with  its  tributaries  Leucasia,  Charadrus,  Amphitu.s,  and 
Alia),  falling  into  the  Messenian  Gulf.     The  great  valley 


M  E  S  — M  E  S 


63 


of  this  river  is  di\ided,  near  Mount  Ithome,  into  two 
distinct  parts,  the  plain  or  basin  of  Stenyclarus  on  the 
north,  and  the  plain  of  ^facaria,  so  called  from  its  extreme 
fertility,  on  the  south.     The  climate  is  delightful. 

The  earliest  inhabitants  of  Messenia  were  Leieges,  whose 
capital  was  at  Andania.  After  these  came  ^tolians,  whose 
chief  centre  was  at  Pylus.  After  the  Dorian  conquest  the 
country  was  divided  by  Cresphontes  into  five  parts,  whose 
chief  cities  were  respectively  Stenyclarus,  Pylus,  Khion, 
Hyamia,  and  Mesola.  The  towns  of  Messenia  were  not 
numerous.  Homer  mentions  Pylus  (the  seat  of  the 
Thessalian  Neleids),  Amphigeneia  (possibly  the  same  as 
Ampheia),  Dorion,  jEpeia  (possibly  Methone),  CEchalia, 
Pharse,  Antheia  (probably  the  later  Thuria),  Pedasus,  and 
Ira  (the  later  Abia).  Other  important  towns  were  Asine, 
Corone,  .  Limna;,  Carnasium,  Cyparissia,  and,  finally, 
Mcssene. 

Of  the  history  of  Jfesseiiia  before  tlie  Dorian  invasion  little  is 
known  except  a  few  fables  related  by  Pausanias.  Two  generations 
after  the  Trojan  war,  tlie  country  w.13  iuvadeil  by  the  Dorians,  who 
expelled  the  Neleids  and  conferred  the  sovereignty  upon  Crespliontes, 
■who  seems  to  have  been  a  po|>ular  king.  I'erbans  for  this  reason 
he  was  put  to  death  by  tbe  chiefs  along  with  aU  his  sous  except 
./Epytus.  .Spytus  was  restored  to  the  tliroue  by  the  Arcadians, 
took  vengeance  for  his  father's  death,  and  became  vei7  popular. 
His  line  lasted  througb  several  generations.  We  know  little, of  tlie 
subsequent  liistory  of  Messenia  until  the  date  of  the  Messcnian  ware, 
waged  against  Sparta.  The  ostensible  and  immediate  causes  of  these 
wars  are  variously  assigned  ;  but  the  true  cause  was  the  cupidity  of 
Sparta.  Our  chief  tnistworthy  authority  for  the  history  of  them 
is  the  old  elegiac  poet  Tyrteus  ;  but  so  little  is  known  about  them 
that  it  is  a  matter  of  doubt  in  which  of  tliem  the  great  hero 
Aristomenes  won  his  fame.  The  date  of  the  first  was  from  743  to 
724,  of  the  second  from  685  to  668  or,  according  to  others,  from 
643  to  631  B.C  Ithome  was  the  centre  of  action  in  the  first,  Eira 
in  the  second.  The  result  of  these  ware  was  the  complete  subjuga- 
tion of  Jlessenia  to  Sparta.  Its  territory  was  parcelled  out  among 
Spartans,  and  its  towns  handed  over  to  I'ericcci  and  Helots.  Many 
of  the  inbabitants  took  refuge  in  Arcadia,  but  still  more  in  Italy 
and  Sicily.  A  very  large  number  settled  in  Rhcgium,  whose  chiefs 
for  many  generations  were  of  Messenian  stock.  About  200,000 
remainetl  behind  in  bondage.  After  the  second  war  a  large  number 
of  Messenians  settled  on  the  Sicilian  coast  at  Zancle,  to  wliich  they 
subsequently  gave  the  name  Messana  (see  Messina).  In  464  B.c. 
the  Jlessenian  Helots,  taking  advantage  of  an  earthquake  at  Snarta, 
revolted,  and,  though  they  were  finally  compelled  to  surrender  in 
455,  they  did  so  only  on  condition  of  being  allowed  to  retire  to 
Xaupactus  on  the  Corinthian  Gulf.  This  city  had  been  ofiered  them 
as  a  residence  by  the  Athenians,  ever  glad  to  favour  the  foes  of 
Sparta.'  Here  the  Jlessenians  remaine<l  for  sixty  years,  luttil  the 
loss  of  the  battle  of  /Egosjiotami  deprivetl  them  of  the  protection  of 
the  Athenians.  They  were  then  driven  out,  and  had  to  find  homes 
in  Cciihallenui  and  Zacynthus,  or  among  their  kinsmen  in  Rhemuni 
and  Messana.  Some  even  went  to  Africa,  and  took  U)i  tlieir  aboile 
at  Eues]ierid."e  or  Hesneridre,  afterwards  called  Berenice.  Things 
remained  in  this  condition  until  369  B.C.,  when  Epaminoudas, 
having  broken  the  j>ower  of  Sj^rta,  rent  from  her  Messenia,  and, 
collecting  from  all  quarters  the  <\esceudants  of  the  exiled  iuliabit- 
ants,  helped  them  to  found  the  city  of  Ml.<slxe  (^.r.).  Sparta 
never  gave  up  her  claim  to  ilessenia,  and  made  many  attempts  to 
reconquer  it,  but  without  success.  The  ilesseuians  maintained 
their  uul(?J>cndence  until  \46  B.C.,  when,  with  the  Achaaus,  they 
were  reduced  under  tlie  power  of  Rome.  From  that  time  they  fall 
into  the  backgiouud  of  history.  In  the  Middle  Ages  the  country, 
like  the  rest  of  the  reloponnesus,  was  largely  overrun  by  Slavic 
tribes,  as  is  shown  by  the  numerous  Slavic  local  names  occuning  in 
it.  At  the  establishment  of  Greece  as  a  kingdom,  Messenia  was 
constituted  iifto  a  jtrovincc,  with  a  governor  or  nomarch  residing  at 
Kalamata  {officially  Kalamai),  the  nncieiit  Phara'.  The  country, 
though  beautiful  a'nd  fertile,  is  still  in  a  .Icplorably  backward  con- 
dition, and  the  jioiniLitinn  ii  sjiarse  and  semi-barbarous.  Agricul- 
ture languishes,  and  the  roads  and  bridges  arc  few  and  bad.  More 
deeds  of  violence  occur  in  Mesjsenia  than  in  any  other  jtart  of  Gn-cco. 
With  the  excejilion  of  Kalamata,  it  contains  no  town  of  inii.ortani-e. 
Xavarino.  on  the  Gulf  of  Pylus,  was  the  scene  of  the  destruction  of 
the  Turkish  fiect  inlS27. 

MESSIAH   (Dan.  x.  2.=;,  15),'^  Mes.<!Ias   (.lohn  i.  41  ; 

iv.   2.")),    are.  transcriptions   (the  first  form   modified   by 

refereiKe    to    the    etymology)    of    tlie    Greek    Mecro-t'as 

,  (Mco-i'as,  Mfffcio;),  which  in  turn  reitresents  the  Aramaic 

■  >tn'L"0_()«iV(<n((),  answering  to  the   Hebrew  ri'ran   "the 


anointed."'  The  Hebrew  word  with  the  article  prefixed 
occurs  in  the  Old  Testament  only  in  the  phrase  ''the 
anointed  priest"  (Lev.  iv.  3,  5,  16;  vi.  22  [15]),  but 
"  Jehovah's  anointed  "  is  a  common  title  of  the  king  of 
Israel,  applied  in  the  historical  books  to  Saul  and  David,  ■ 
in  Lam.  iv.  20  to  Zedekiah,  and  in  Isa.  xlv.  1  extended 
to  Cyrus.  In  the  Psalms  corresponding  phrases  (My,  Thy, 
His  anointed)  ^  occur  nine  times,  to  which  may  be  added 
the  lyrical  passages  1  Sam.  ii.  10,  Hab.  iii.  13.  In  the 
intention  of  the  writers  of  these  hymns  there  can  generally 
be  no  doubt  that  it  refers  to  the  king  then  on  the  throne, 
or,  in  hymns"*  of  more  general  and  timeless  character,  to 
the  Davidic  king  as  such  (without  personal  reference  to 
one  king) ; '  but  in  the  Psalms  the  ideal  aspect  of  the 
kingship,  its  religious  importance  as  the  expression  and 
organ  of  Jehovah's  sovereignty,  is  prominent.  When  the 
Psalter  became  a  liturgical  book  the  historical  kingship 
had  gone  by,  and  the  idea  alone  remained,  no  longer  as  the 
interpretation  of  a  present  political  fact,  but  as  part  of 
Israel's  religious  inheritance.  It  was  impossible,  however, 
to  think  that  a  true  idea  had  become  obsolete  merely, 
because  it  found  no  expression  on  earth  for  the  time  being  ; 
Israel  looked  again  for  an  anointed  king  to  whom  the 
words  of  the  sacred  hymns  should  apply  with  a  force  never 
realized  in  the  imperfect  kingship  of  the  past.  Thus  the 
psalms,  especially  such  psalms  as  the  second,  were  neces- 
sarily viewed  as  prophetic;  and  meantime,  in  accordance 
with  the  common  Hebrew  representation  of  ideal  things  as 
existing  in  heaven,  the  true  king  remains  hidden  with  God. 
The  steps  by  which  this  resiJt  >va3  reached  must,  however, 
be  considered  in  detaiL 

The  hope  of  the  advent  of  an  ideal  king  was  only  one 
feature  of  that  larger  hope  of  the  salvation  of  Israel  from  all 
evils,  the  realization  of  )>erfect  reconciliation  with  Jehovah, 
and  the  felicity  of  the  righteous  in  Him,  in  a  new  order  of 
things  free  from  the  assaults  of  hostile  nations  and  the 
troubling  of  the  wicked  within  the  Hebrew  community, 
which  was  constantly  held  forth  by  all  the  prophets,  from 
the  time  when  the  great  seers  of  the  8th  century  B  c.  first 
proclaimed  that  the  true  conception  of  Jehovah's  relation 
to  His  people  was  altogether  different  from  what  was 
realized,  or  even  aimed  at,  by  the  recognized  civil  and 
religious  leaders  of  the  two  Hebrew  kingdoms,  and  that  it 
could  become  a  practical  reality  only  through  a  great 
deliverance  following  a  sifting  judgment  of  the  most 
terrible  kind.  The  idea  of  a  judgment  so  severe  as  to 
render  jrassible  an  entire  breach  with  the  guilty  past,  arid 
of  a  subsequent  complete  realization  of  Jehovah's  kingship 
in  a  regenerate  nation,  is  common  to  all  the  prophets,  but 
is  expressed  in  a  gr«at  variety  of  forms  and  images,  con- 
ditioned by  the  present  situation  and  needs  of  Israel  at  the 
time  when  each  prophet  spoke.  As  a  rule  the  prophets 
directly  connect  the  final  restoration  with  the  removal  of 
the  sins  of  their  own  age,  and  ivith  the  accomplishment  of 
such  a  work  of  judgment  as  lies  within  their  own  horizon; 
to  Isaiah  the  last  troubles  are  those  of  Assyrian  invasion, 
to  Jeremiah  the  restoration  follows  on  the  exile  t3  Babylon ; 
Daniel  connects  the  future  glory  with  the  overthrow  fcf  the 
Greek  monarchy.  The  details  of  the  i>rophetic  pictures 
aliow  a  corresponding  variation;  but  all  agree  in  giving  the 
central  place  to  the  realization  of  a  real  effective  kingship 
of  Jehovah  ;  in  fact  the  conception  of  the  religious  subject 


'  Tlie  tiaiiscriptioii  i<  as  ill  Ttaaoip,  Tfatrlp  forllf  ?,  Onomastica, 
cd.  La;.,  y\\  247.  2S1,  Bcur.  $  ii.  3.  For  the  •termiuatiou  as  for 
Sri,  seeLafaide,  Psill.  Mr,iii>li.,  p.  vil. 

'  The  plural  is  found  in  Ps.alm  cv.  15,  of  the  patriarchs  as  conse- 
Liated  pei-son-t.  ,  -       . 

»  In  Ps.  Ixxxiv.  9  [10]  it  is  disputed  whether  the  anointed  one  w 
■.he  king,  the  priest,  or  the  nation  as  a  wliole.HS.Tlie  secoud  view  la 
perhaps  lije  best.  - 


64 


MESSIAH 


as  the  nation  of  Israel,  with  a  national  organization  under 
Jehovah  as  king,  is  common  to  the  whole  Old  Testament, 
and  forms  the  bond  that  connects  prophecy  proper  with 
the  so-called  Messianic  psalms  and  similar  passages  which 
theologians  call  typical,  i.e.,  with  such  passages  as  speak 
of  the  religious  relations  of  the  Hebrew  commonwealth, 
the  religious  meaning  of  national  institutions,  and  so 
necessarily  contain  ideal  elements  reaching  beyond  the 
empirical  present.  All  such  passages  are  frequently  called 
Messianic ;  but  the  term  is  more  properly  reserved  as 
the  specific  designation  of  one  particular  branch  of  the 
Hebrew  hope  of  salvation,  which,  becoming  prominent  in 
post-canonical  Judaism,  used  the  name  of  the  Messiah  as 
a  technical  term  (which  it  never  is  in  the  Old  Testament), 
and  exercised  a  great  influence  on  New  Testament  thought, 
— the  term  "  the  Christ  "  (6  xpL(n6<;)  being  itself  nothing 
more  than  the  translation  of  "  the  Messiah." 

In  the  period  of  the  Hebrew  monarchy  the  thought  that 
Jehovah  is  the  divine  king  of  Israel  was  associated  with  the 
conception  that  the  human  king  reigns  by  right  only  if  he 
reigns  by  commission  or  "  unction  "  from  Him.  Such  was 
the  theory  of  the  kingship  in  Ephraim  as  well  as  in  Judah 
(Deut.  xxxiii. ;  2  Kings  ix.  6),  till  in  the  decadence  of  the 
northern  state  Amos(ix.  11)  foretold  the  redintegration  of 
the  Davidic  kingdom,  and  Hosea  (iii.  5 ;  viii.  4)  expressly 
associated  a  similar  prediction  with  the  condemnation  of  the 
kingship  of  Ephraim  as  illegitimate.  So  the  great  Judaean 
prophets  of  the  8fh  century  connect  the  lalvation  of,  Israel 
with  the  rise  of  a  Davidic  king,  full  of  Jehovah's  Spirit,  in 
whom  all  the  energies  of  Jehovah's  transcendental  kingship 
are  as  it  were  incarnate  (Isa.  ix.  6  sq. ;  xi.  1  sq.  ;  Micah  v.). 
This  conception,  however,  is  not  one  of  the  constant 
elements  of  prophecy ;  indeed  the  later  prophecies  of  Isaiah 
take  a  different  shape,  looking  for  the  decisive  interposition, 
of  Jehovah  in  the  crisis  of  history  without  the  instru- 
mentality of  a  kingly  deliverer.  Jerehiiah  again  speaks 
of  the  future  David  or  righteous  sprout  of  David's  stem 
(xxiii.  5  sq. ;  xxx.  9) ;  and  Ezekiel  uses  similar  language 
(xxsiv.,  xxxvii.)  ;  but  that  such  passages  do  not  necessarily 
mean  more  than  that  the  Davidic  dynasty  eiaU  be  con- 
tinued in  the  time  of  restoration  under  a  series  of  worthy 
princes  seems  clear  from  the  way  in  which  Ezekiel  speaks 
of  the  prince  in  chaps,  xlv.,  xlri.  As  yet  we  have  no  fixed 
doctrine  of  a  personal  Messiah,  but  only  material  from 
which  such  a  doctrine  might  by  and  by  be  drawn.  The 
religious  view  of  the  kingship  is  still  essentially  the  same 
as  in  2  Sam.  vii.,  where  the  endless  duration  of  the  Davidic 
dynasty  is  set  forth  as  part  of  Jehovah's  plan  of  grace  to 
His  nation. 

There  are  other  parts  of  the  Old  Testament — notably 
1  Sam.  viii.,  xii. — in  which  the  very  existence  of  a  human 
kingship  is  represented  as  a  dei)arture  from  the  ideal  of  a 
perfect  theocracy.  And  so,  in  and  after  the  exile,  when 
the  monarchy  had  come  to  an  end,  we  find  pictures  of  the 
latter  days  in  which  its  restoration  has  no  place.  Such  is 
the  great  prophecy  of  Isa.  xl.-Lxvi.,  in  which  Cyrus  is  the 
anointed  of  Jehovah,  and  the  grace  promised  to  David  is 
transferred  to  ideal  Israel  ("  the  servant  of  Jehovah  ")  as  a 
whole  (Isa.  Iv.  3).  So  too  there  is  no  allusion  to  a  human 
kingship  in  J  oel  or  in  Malachi ;  the  old  forms  of  the 
Hebiew  state  were  broken,  and  religious  hopes  expressed 
themselves  in  other  shapes.'  In  the  book  of  Daniel  it  is 
collective  Israel  that  appears  under  the  symbol  of  a  "  son 
of  man,"  and  receives  the  kingdom  (vii.  13,  18,  22,  27). 

Meantime,  however,  the  decay  ami  ultimate  silence  of  the 
living  urophetic  word  concurred  with  the  prolonged 
political    servitude    of   the   nation    to   produce    a   most 

^  The  hopes  which  Hoggai  and  Zechariah  connect  with  the  nime  of 
Zjrabbahel,  a  descendant  of  David,  hardly  form  an  exception  to  this 
statement. 


important  change  in  the  tyjie  of  the  Hebrew  religion. 
The  prophets  had  never  sought  to  add  to  the  religious 
unity  of  their  teaching  unity  in  the  pictorial  form  in 
which  from  time  to  time  they  depicted  the  final  judgment 
and  future  glory.  Fgr  this  there  was  a  religious  reason. 
To  them  the  kingship  of  Jehovah  was  not  a  mere  ideal, 
but  an  actual  reality.  Its  full  manifestation  indeed,  to  the 
eye  of  sense  and  to  the  unbelieving  world,  lay  in  the 
future ;  but  true  faith  found  a  present  stay  in  the 
sovereignty  of  Jehovah,  daily  exhibited  in  providence  and 
interpreted  to  each  generation  by  the  voice  of  the  prophets. 
And,  while  Jehovah's  kingship  was  a  living  and  present  fact, 
it  refused  to  be  formulated  in  fixed  invariable  shape.  But 
when  the  prophets  ceased  and  their  place  was  taken  by  the 
scribes,  the  interpreters  of  the  written  word,  when  at  the 
same  time  the  yoke  of  foreign  oppressors  rested  continually 
on  the  laud,  Israel  no  longer  felt  itself  a  hving  nation,  and 
Jehovah's  kingship,  which  presupposed  a  living  nation, 
found  not  even  the  most  inadequate  expression  in  daily 
political  life.  Jehovah  was  still  the  lawgiver  of  Israel,  but 
His  law  was  written  in  a  book,  and  He  was  not  present  to 
administer  it.  He  was  still  the  hope  of  Israel,  but  the 
hope  was  all  dissevered  from  the  present ;  it  too  was  to  be 
read  in  books,  and  these  were  interpreted  of  a  future 
which  was  no  longer,  as  it  had  been  to  the  prophets, 
the  ideal  development  of  forces  already  at  work  in  Israel, 
but  wholly  new  and  supernatural.  The  present  was  a 
blank,  in  which  religious  duty  was  summed  up  in  patient 
obedience  to  the  law  and  penitent  submission  to  the  Divine 
chastisements ;  the  living  realities  of  divine  grace  were 
but  memories  of  the  past,  or  visions  of  "  the  world  to 
come."  The  scribes,  who  in  this  period  took  the  place  of 
the  prophets  as  the  leaders  of  religious  thought,  were 
mainly  busied  with  the  law ;  but  no  religion  can  subsist  on 
mere  law ;  and  the  .systematization  of  the  prophetic  hopes, 
and  of  those  more  ideal  parts  of  the  other  sacred  literature 
which,  because  ideal  and  dissevered  from  the  present,  were 
now  set  on  one  line  ■n'ith  the  prophecies,  went  on  side  by 
side  with  the  systematization  of  the  law,  by  means  of  a 
harmonistic  exegesis,  which  sought  to  gather  up  every 
prophetic  image  in  one  grand  panorama  of  the  issues  of 
Israel's  and  the  world's  history.  The  beginnings  of  this 
process  can  probably  be  traced  vrithin  the  canon  itself,  in 
the  book  of  Joel  and  the  last  chapters  of  Zechariah  ;  '■^  and, 
if  this  be  so,  we  see  from  Zech.  tx.  that  the  picture  of  the 
ideal  king  early  claimed  a  place  in  such  constructions. 
The  full  development  of  the  method  belongs,  however,  to 
the  post-canonical  literature,  and  was  naturally  much  less 
regular  and  rapid  than  the  growth  of  the  legal  traditions 
of  the  scribes.  The  attempt  to  form  a  schematic  escha- 
tology  left  so  much  room  for  the  play  of  individual  fancy 
that  its  results  could  not  quickly  take  fixed  dogmatic 
shape ;  and  it  did  not  appeal  to  all  minds  alike  or  equally 
at  all  times.  It  was  in  crises  of  national  anguish  that  .men 
turned  most  eagerly  to  the  prophecies,  and  sought  to  con- 
strue their  teachings  as  a  promise  of  speedy  deliverance  in 
such  elaborate  schemes  of  the  incoming  of  the  future  glory 
as  fill  the  Apocai-yptic  Liteeatuke  {q.v.).  But  these 
books,  however  influential,  had  no  public  authority,  and 
when  the  yoke  of  oppression  was  lightened  but  a  little 
their  enthusiasm  lost  much  of  its  contagious  power.  It  is 
not.  therefore  safe  to  measure  the  gencVal  growth  of 
eschatological  doctrine  by  the  apocalyptic  books,  of  which 
Daniel  alone  attained  a  canonical  position.  In  the 
ApocryjJia  eschatology  has  a  very  small  place ;  but  there 
is  enough  to  show  that  the  hope  of  Israel  was  never 
forgotten,    and   that   the   imagery   of  the   prophets   had 


'  Seo  Joel,  vol.  xiii.  p.  706,  and  Stade's  .irticlea  "Deuterozacharja,'' 
Z.f.  .1  TlMe  Il'iss.,  18S1-S2.  Compare  D;ir_.  is.  2  for  tho  wsc  of  tho 
older  prophecies  in  llie  solution  of  new  problems  of  fal.!;. 


M  ii:  S  iS  1  A  H 


5;") 


moulded  that  hope  into  certain  fixed  forms  which  were 
taken  with  a  literalness  not  contemplated  by  the  prophets 
themselves.  It  was,  however,  only  very  gradually  that 
the  figure  and  name  of  the  Messiah  acquired  the  pro- 
minence which  they  have  in  later  Jewish  doctrine  of  the 
last  things  and  in  the  official  exegesis  of  the  Targums.  In 
the  very  developed  eschatolog)'  of  Daniel  they  are,  as  we 
have  seen,  altogether  wanting,  and  in  the  Apocrypha,  both 
before  and  after  the  Maccabee  revival,  the  everlasting 
throne  of  David's  house  is  a  mere  historical  reminiscence 
(Sirach  xlvii.  11 ;  1  Mac.  ii.  57).  So  long  as  the  wars  of 
independence  worthily  occupied  the  energies  of  the  Pales- 
tinian Jews,  and  the  Hasmonsean  sovereignty  promised  a 
measure  of  independence  and  felicity  under  the  law,  in 
which  the  people  were  ready  to  acquiesce,  at  least,  till  the 
rise  of  a  new  jjrophet  (1  Mac.  xiv.  41),  the  hope  that  con- 
nected itself  with  the  house  of  David  was  not  likely  to  rise 
to  fresh  life,  especiaUy  as  a  considerable  proportion  of  the 
not  very  numerous  passages  of  Scripture  which  speak 
of  the  ideal  king  might  with  a  little  straining  be  applied 
to  the  rising  star  of  the  new  djTiasty  (comp.  the  language 
of  1  Mac.  xiv.  4—15).  It  is  only  in  Alexandria,  where 
the  Jews  were  still  subject  to  the  yoke  of  the  Gtentile, 
that  at  this  time  (c.  140  B.C.)  v.-e  find  the  oldest  Sibylline 
verses  (iii.  652  sq.)  proclaiming  the  approach  of  the 
righteous  king  whom  God  shall  raise  up  from  the  East 
(Isa.  xli.  2)  to  establish  peace  on  earth  and  inaugurate  the 
sovereignty  of  the  prophets  in  a  regenerate  world.  The 
name  Messiah  is  still  lacking,  and  the  central  point  of  the 
prophecy  is  not  the  reign  of  the  deliverer  but  the  subjec- 
tion of  all  nations  to  the  law  and  the  temple.^ 

With  the  growing  weakness  and  corruption  of  the 
Hasmonaean  princes,  and  the  alienation  of  a  large  part  of 
the  nation  from  their  cause,  the  hope  of  a  better  kingship 
begins  to  appear  in  Jud<ea  also ;  at  first  darkly  shadowed 
forth  in  the  Book  of  £uoch  (chap,  xc),  where  the  white 
steer,  the  future  leader  of  God's  herd  after  the  deliverance 
from  the  heathen,  stands  in  a  certain  contrast  to  the  in- 
adequate sovereignty  of  the  actual  dynasty  (the  horned 
lambs) ;  and  then  much  more  clearly,  and  for  the  first  time 
with  use  of  the  name  Messiah,  in  the  Psalter  of  Solomon, 
the  chief  document  of  the  protest  of  Pharisaism  against  its 
enemies  the  later  Hasmonceans.  The  struggle  between  the 
Pharisees  and  Sadducees,  between  the  party  of  the  scribes 
and  the  party  of  the  Hasmonsean  aristocracy,  has  been 
described  in  Israel  (vol.  xiii.  p.  423  sq.).  It  was  a 
struggle  for  mastery  between  a  secularized  hierarchy  on 
the  one  hand,  to  whom  the  theocracy  was  only  a  name,  and 
whose  whole  interests  were  those  of  their  own  selfish  politics, 
and  on  the  other  hand  a  party  to  which  God  and  the  law 
were  all  in  all,  and  whose  influence  depended  on  the  main- 
tenance of  the  doctrine  that  the  exact  fulfilling  of  the  law 
according  to  the  precepts  of  the  scribes  was  the  absorbing 
vocation  of  Israel  This  doctrine  had  grown  up  in  the 
political  nullity  of  Judsea  rnder  Persian  and  Grecian  rule, 
and  no  government  that  possessed  or  aimed  at  political 
independence  could  possibly  show  constant  deference  to 
the  punctilios  of  the  schoolmen.  The  Pharisees  themselves 
could  not  but  see  that  their  principles  were  politically 
impotent ;  the  most  scrupulous  observance  of  the  Sabbath, 
for  example — and  this  was  the  culminating  point  of  legality 
^ould  not  thrust  back  the  arms  of  the  heathen.  Thus 
the  party  of  the  scribes,  when  they  came  into  conflict 
with  an  active  political  power,  which  at  the  same  time 
claimed  to  represent  the  theocratic  interests  of  Israel,  were 
compelled  to  lay  fresh  stress  on  the  doctrine  that  the  true 
deliverance  of  Israel  must  come  from  God  and  not  from 
mifa.    We  have  seen  indeed  that  the  legalism  which  accepted 

'  I:  SP-i'll.,  iii.  775,  i/i)6ii  laust  unJoaMedly  be  read  for  vl6v. 


Jehovah  as  legislator,  while  admitting  that  his  executive 
sovereignty  asjudge  and  captain  of  Israel  was  for  the  time 
dormant,  would  from  the  first  have  been  a  self-destructive 
position  without  the  complementary  hope  of  a  future 
vindication  of  divine  justice  and  mercy,  when  the  God  of 
Israel  should  return  to  reign  over  his  people  for  eve/. 
Before  the  Maccabee  revival  the  spirit  of  nationality  was 
so  dead  that  this  hope  ky  in  the  background ;  the  ethical 
and  devotional  aspects  of  religion  under  the  law  held  the 
first  place,  and  the  monotony  of  poUtical  serv-I'ude  gave  little 
occasion  for  the  observation  that  a  true  national  life 
requires  a  personal  leader  as  well  as  a  wTitten  law.  But 
now  the  Jews  were  a  nation  once  more,  and  national  ideas 
came  to  the  front.  In  the  Hasmonaean  sovereignty  these 
ideas  took  a  political  form,  and  the  result  was  the  secular- 
ization of  the  kingdom  of  God  for  the  sake  of  a  harsh  and 
rapacious  aristocrac}'.  The  nation  threw  itself  on  the  side 
of  the  Pharisees;  but  it  did  so  in  no  mere  spirit  of 
punctilious  legalism,  but  with  the  ardour  of  a  national 
enthusiasm  deceived  in  its  dearest  hopes,  and  turning  for 
help  from  the  delusive  kingship  of  the  Hasmona^ans  to 
the  true  kingship  of  Jehovah,  and  to  His  vicegerent  the 
king  of  David's  house.  It  is  in  this  connexion  that  the 
doctrine  and  name  of  the  Messiah  appear  in  the  Psalter 
of  Solomon.  The  eternal  kingship  of  the  house  of  David, 
so  long  forgotten,  is  seized  on  as  the  proof  that  the 
Hasmonaeans  have  no  divine  right. 

*'Thou,  Lord,  art  our  king  for  ever  .ind  ever.  .  .  .  Thou  didst 
choose  David  as  king  over  Israel,  and  swarest  unto  him  concerning 
his  seed  for  ever  that  his  kinship  should  never  fail  before  Thee. 
And  for  our  sins  sinnei*s  (the  Hasmonaeans)  have  risen  up  over  us, 
tiiking  with  force  the  kingdom  whiih  Thou  didst  not  promiso  to 
them,  profaning  the  throne  of  David  in  their  pride.  But  Thou,  0 
Loi-d,  will  cast  them  down  and  root  out  their  seed  from  the  land, 
when  a  man  not  of  onr  race  (Pompey)  rises  up  against  them.  .  .  . 
Behold,  0  Lord,  and  raise  up  their  king  the  Son  of  David  at  the  time 
that  Thou  liast  appointed,  to  reign  over  Israel  Thy  servant;  and  gird 
him  with  strengtli  to  crush  unjust  rulers ;  to  cleanse  Jerusalem 
from  the  heathen  that  tread  it  under  foot,  to  cast  out  sinners  from 
Thy  inheritance;  to  break  the  pride  of  sinners  and  all  their  strength 
as  potter's  vessels  with  a  rod  of  iron  (Ps.  il  9);  to  destroy  the  law- 
less nations  with  the  word  of  his  mouth  (Isa.  xi.  4) ;  to  gather  a 
holy  nation  and  lead  them  in  righteovsness.  .  .  .  He  shall  divide 
them  by  tribes  in  the  land,  and  nostranger  and  foreigner  shall  dwell 
with  them;  he  shall  judge  the  nations  in  wisdom  and  righteousness. 
The  heathen  nations  shall  scr^'e  under  liis  yoke ;  he  shall  glorify 
the  Lord  before  all  the  earth,  and  cleanse  Jerusalem  in  holiness  as  in 
the  beginning.  From  the  ends  of  the  earth  all  nations  shall  come 
to  see  his  glory  and  bring  the  weary  sons  of  Zion  as  gifts  (Isa.  be. 
3  sj);  to  see  the  glory  of  the  Lord  with  which  God  hath  crowned 
him,  for  he  is  over  them  a  righteous  king  taught  of  God.  In  his 
days  there  shall  be  no  unrighteousness  in  their  midst;  for  they  are 
all  holy,  and  their  king  the  anointed  of  the  Lord  (xp"tt65  nipios,  mis- 
translation of  nin'  ri'B'D).  He  shall  not  trust  on  horses  and  riders 
and  bowmen,  nor  heap  up  gold  and  silver  for  war,  nor  put  his  confi- 
dence in  a  multitude  for  the  day  of  war.  'The  Lord  is  king,'  that  is 
his  hope. ...  He  is  pure  from  sin  to  nile  a  great  people,  to  rebuke 
governors  and  destroy  siujiers  by  his  mighty  word.  In  all  his  days 
he  is  free  from  offence  against. his  God,  for  He  hath  made  him 
strong  by  the  Holy  Spirit.  .  .  .  His  hope  is  in  the  Lord ;  who 
car.  do  aught  against  him  ?  Strong  in  deeds  and  mighty  in  tlie  fear 
of  the  Lord,  he  feedeth  the  flock  of  the  Lord  in  truth  and  righteous- 
ness, and  suffereth  not  one  of  them  to  stumble  in  the  pasture.  .  .  . 
So  it  bescemeth  the  king  of  Israel  whom  God  hath  chosen  to  lead 
the  house  of  Israel.  .  .  .  God  hasten  His  mercy  on  Israel  to 
deliver  ihem  from  the  uncleanness  of  profane  foes.  The  Lord  is  our 
king  for  ever  and  ever." — Pso.U.  Sol.  xvii. 

This  conception  is  traced  in  lines  too  firm  to  be  those  of  a 
first  essay;  it  had  doubtless  grown  upas  an  integral  part  of 
the  religioiw  protest  against  the  Hasmonjeans.  ■  And  while 
the  polemical  motive  is  obvious,  and  the  argument  from 
prophecy  against  the  legitimacy  of  a  non-Davidic  d_\niasty 
is  quite  in  the  manner  of  the  scribes,  the  spirit  of  theocratic 
fervour  which  inspires  the  picture  of  the  Messiah  is  brc  ader 
and  deeper  than  their  narrow  legalism.  In  a  word,  the 
Jewish  doctrine  of  the  Messiah  marks  the  fusion  of 
Pharisaism    with   the   national   religious   feeling  of    the 


56 


l'^   E  S  — I\J  E  S 


2iIac-:abeo  revival.  It  is  tins  national  feeling  that,  claim- 
ing a  loader  against  the  Romans  as  ■o'ell  as  deliverance 
from  the  Sadducee  aristocracy,  again  sets  the  idea  of  the 
kingship  rather  than  that  of  resurrection  and  individual 
retiiljution  in  the  central  place  which  it  had  lost  since  the 
captivity.  Henceforward  the  doctrine  of  the  Messiah  is 
at  once  the  centre  of  popular  hope  and  the  object  of 
theological  culture.  The  New  Testament  is  the  best 
evidence  of  its  influence  on  the  masses  (see  especiall}'  Matt. 
x.xi.  9) ;  and  the  exegesis  of  the  Targums,  which  in  its 
beginnings  doubtless  reaches  back  before  the  time  of 
Christ,  shows  how  it  was  fostered  by  the  Kabbins  and 
preached  in  the  synagogues.^  Its  diffusion  far  beyond 
Palestine,  and  in  circles  least  accessible  to  such  idea.s,  is 
proved  by  the  fact  that  Philo  himself  (De  Prxm.  et  Poin., 
§  16)  gives  a  Messianic  interpretation  of  Num.  xxiv.  27 
(LXX.).  It  must  not  indeed  bo  supposed  that  the  doctrine 
was  as  yet  the  undisputed  part  of  Hebrew  faith  which  it 
became  when  the  fall  of  the  state  and  the  antithesis  to 
Christianity  threw  all  Jewish  thought  into  the  lines  of  the 
Pharisees.  It  has,  for  example,  no  place  in  the  Assiimptio 
M'isis  or  the  Booh  of  Jubilees.  But,  as  the  fatal  struggle 
with  Rome  became  more  and  more  imminent,  the  eschato- 
logical  hopes  which  increasingly  absorbed  the  Hebrew 
mind  all  group  themselves  round  the  person  of  thj 
Messiah.  In  the  later  parts  of  the  Book  of  Enoch  (t!.e 
"symbols"  of  chaps,  xlv.  sq.)  the  judgment  day  of  the 
Messiah  (identified  with  Daniel's  "  Son  of  Man  ")  stands 
in  the  forefront  of  the  eschatological  picture.  Jos(3phus 
(/?.  J.  vi.  5,  §  4)  testifies  that  the  belief  in  the  immediate 
appearance  of  the  Messianic  king  gave  the  chief  impulse 
to  the  war  that  ended  in  the  destruction  of  the  Jemsh 
state ;  after  tho  fall  of  the  temple  the  last  apocalypses 
{Bdruch,  4  E^-a)  still  loudly  proclaim  the  near  victory  of 
the  God-sent  king ;  and  Bar  Cochebas,  the  leader  of  the 
revolt  against  Hadrian,  was  actuaUy  greeted  as  the  jilessiah 
by  Rabbi  Akiba  (comp.  Luke  xxi.  8).  These  hopes  were 
again  quenched  in  blood  ;  the  political  idea  of  the  Jlessiah, 
the  restorer  of  the  Jewish  state,  still  finds  utterance  in  the 
daily  prayer  of  every  Jew  (the  Sh'mune  Esre),  and  is  en- 
shrined in  the  system  of  Rabbinical  theology ;  but  its  his- 
torical significance  was  buried  in  the  ruins  of  Jerusalem.^ 

But  the  proof  written  in  fire  and  blood  on  the  fair  face 
of  Palestine  that  the  true  kingdom  of  God  could  not  be 
realized  in  the  forms  of  an  eartldy  state,  and  under  the 
limitations  of  national  particularism,  was  not  the  final 
refutation  of  the  hope  of  the  Old  Testament.  Amidst  the 
last  convulsions  of  political  Judaism  a  new  and  spiritual 
conception  of  tho  kingdom  of  God,  of  salvation,  and  of  the 
Saviour  of  God's  anointing,  had  shaped  itself  through  the 
preaching,  the  death,  and  the  resurrection  of  Jesus  of 
Nazareth.  As  applied  to  Jesus  the  name  of  Messiah  lost 
all  its  i)olitical  and  national  significance,  for  His  victory  over 
the  world,  whereby  .He  approved  himself  the  true  captain 
of  salvation,  was  consummated,  not  amidst  the  flash  of 
earthly  swords  or  the  lurid  glare  of  the  lightnings  of  Elias, 

^  Tlie  T.irgiimic  pass.i^es  tluit  .speak  of  tho  Slessiah  are  i-egi-stered 
by  Buxtorf,  Lex.  ChaM.,  s  v. 

'  False  Messiahs  have  continued  from  time  to  time  to  appear  among 
the  Jews.  Such  was  Sorenus  of  Syria  {circa  7'20  A.D.).  Soon  after, 
Messianio  hopes  were  active  at  tlie  time  of  tlie  fall  of  the  Oinoy- 
yad-f,  and  led  to  a  Rcrious  rising  under  Abu  'Isa  of  Isp.ahan,  wiio 
callfctl  himself  forerunner  of  tlio  Messiah.  Tho  false  Messi.ah  D.ivid 
Alrni  (Alroy)  appeared  among  tho  warlike  Jews  in  Azerbijan  in  the 
mi'ldle  of  the  V2.]A\  century.  Tho  Messianic  claims  of  AbraK.im  Abn- 
lalia  of  Saragossa  (bora  1240)  had  a  cabalistic  basis,  and  tlie  same 
studies  enconraged  tho  wildest  hopes  at  a  later  time.  Thus  Abarbanel 
calculated  the  coming  of  tho  Messiah  for  1503  A.D.  ;  the  year  1500 
was  in  many  places  observed  as  a  preparatory  season  of  penanc«  ;  and 
throughout  the  16tli  century  th«  Jew3  were  nuK-h  stirred  "and  more 
than  one  false  Mcseiah  appeared.  For  tho  false  Jlessiak  Saljbathai, 
see  vol.  xIL  p.  681. 


:  but  in  the  atoning  death  through  which  He  entered  into 
the  heavenly  glory.     Between   the  Messiah  of  the   Jews 

;  and  the  Son  of  JIan  who  came  not  to  be  ministered  to  but 
to  minister,  and  to  give  his  life  a  ransom  for  many,  there 
was  on  the  surface  little  resemblance ;  and  from  their 
standpoint  the  Pharisees  reasoned  not  amiss  that  the 
marks  of  the  Messiah  were  conspicnously  absent  from  this 
Christ.  But  when  we  look  at  the  deeper  side  of  the 
iSIessianic  conception  in  the  Psalter  of  Solomon,  at  ithe 
heartfelt  longing  for  a  leader  in  tho  way  of  righteousness 
and  acceptance  \\'ith  God  which  underlies  the  aspira- 
tions after  political  deliverance,  we  see  that  it  ^Tas  in  no 
mere  spirit  of  accommodation  to  prevailing  language  that 
Jesus  did  not  disdain  the  name  in  which  all  the  hopes  of 
the  Old  Testament  were  gathered  up.  The  kingdom  of 
God  is  the  centre  of  all  spiritual  faith,  and  the  perception 
that  that  kingdom  can  never  be  realized  without  a  personal 
centre,  a  representative  of  God  v.'itli  man  and  man  with 
God,  was  the  thought,  reaching  far  beyond  the  narrow 
range  of  Pharisaic  legaUsni,  which  was  the  last  lesson  of 
the  vicissitudes  of  the  Old  Testament  dispensation,  the 
spiritual  truth  that  lay  beneath  that  last  movement  of 
Judaism  which  concentrated  the  hope  of  Israel  in  the 
person  of  the  anointed  of  Jehovah. 

It  would  carry  us  too  far  to  consider  in  this  place  the  details  of 
tlio  Jewish  conception  of  the  Messiah  and  tlie  Messianic  times  as 
they  appear  in  the  later  apocalypses  or  in  liabbinical  theology.  See 
for  the  former  tho  excellent  summary  of  Scliiirei',  XTUchc  Zcit- 
ijcschichte,  §§  23,  29  (Leipsic,  1874),  and  I'oi'  tho  latter,  besides  the 
older  books  catalogued  by  Schiirer  (of  which  ScUocttgen,  Horse, 
1742,  and  liertholdt,  CUristologia  Jvdxomtm,  1811,  may  be  specially 
named),  Wcbcr,  AUsynagogale  Tlicologic  (Leipsic,  1880).  For  the 
whole  Bubject  see  also  Drunmiond,  Th^  Jctcish  Messiah  (London, 
1S77),  and  Kuenen,  IteJifjion  of  Israel,  chap.  xii.  For  the  Messianic 
hopes  of  tho  Pharisees  and  tlie  Psalter  of  Solomon  see  especially 
Wcllh.ausen,  Pharisiicr  unci  Sailducaer  (Greifswald,  1874).  In  its 
ultimate  form  the  Messianic  hope  of  the  Jews  is  tho  centre  of  the 
wdiole  eschatology,  embracing  the  doctiine  of  the  last  troubles  of 
Israel  (called  by  tho  Rabbins  the  "birth  pangs  of  tho  Messiah  "), 
the  apjtearing  of  the  anointed  king,  the  annihilation  of  the  hostilo 
enemy,  the  return  of  tho  dispersed  of  Israel,  tho  gloi-y  and  world- 
sovereignty  of  the  elect,  the  new  world,  the  resurrection  of  the  dead, 
and  tho  last  judgnicnt.  But  even  the  final  form  of  Jewish  thcologj- 
shows  much  vacillation  as  to  these  details,  especially  as  regards  their 
sequence  and  mutual  relation,  thiis  betraying  tho  iuade(iuacy  of  the 
hannonistic  method  by  which  they  were  derived  from  the  OIJ 
Testament  and  the  stoi-my  excitement  in  which  the  Jlessianic  idea 
was  developed.  It  is,  for  example,  an  oj^n  question  among  the 
Rabbins  whetlier  tho  days  of  the  Messiah  belong  to  the  old  or  to 
the  new  world  (ntn  dViVH  or  N3n  Q^ivn),  whether  the  resuirec- 
tion  embraces  all  men  or  only  the  righteous,-  whether  it  precedes  or 
follows  the  Messianic  age.     Compare  Millenxium. 

"VVe  must  also  pass  over  the  very  important  questions  that  arise 
as  to  the  gradual  extrication  of  the  New  Testament  idea  of  tho 
Ciirist  from  the  elements  of  Jewish  political  doctrino  which  had 
so  strong  a  hold  of  many  of  the  first  disciples — the  relation,  for  ex- 
ap.;ple,  of  the  New  Testament  Apocalypse  to  contemjiorary  Jewish 
tlionght.  A  word,  however,  is  necessary  as  to  tho  Rabbinical  doc- 
trine of  the  Messiah  who  suffers  ami  dies  for  Israel,  tho  Messiah  son 
of  Joseph  or  son  of  Ephraini,  who  in  Jewish  theology  is  distinguished 
from  and  subordinate  to  tho  victorious  son  of  David,  The  devel- 
ojied  form  of.  this  idea  is  almost  ceitainly  a  product  of  tho  polemic 
with  Christianity,  in  which  tho  Ilubbinswcre  hard  pressed  byargu- 
ineuts  from  passages  {eepecinily  Isa.  liii.)  which  their  own  exegesis 
admitted  to  be  Messianic,  though  it  did  not  accojit  the  Christian 
inferences  as  to  tho  atoning  death  of  the  Messianic  king.  That  tho 
Jews  in  tlie  time  of  Christ  believed  in  o  sulleriug  and  atoning 
Messiah  is,  to  say  the  least,  unjirovf^d  and  highly  improbahlo.  See, 
besides -tho '  books  above  cited,  Do  Wotte,  Oj'nscula;  AVUnscho. 
Die  Leiden  dca  iftmka,  1870.  Tlic  opposite  argument  of  King,  The 
Ynflmt'on  Zcchariah  (Cambridge,  1SS2),  App.  A,  does  not  really 
prove  more  than  that  the  doctrine  of  the  Messiah  13en  Joseph  found 
ponita  of  attachment  in  older  thought.  (W.  E.  S.) 

MESSINA,  a  city  and  seajrort  at  tho  north-east  corner 
of  Sicily,  capital  of  the  province  of  the  same  name,'' is 


^  The  province  occupies  the  north-oast  comer  of  the  island,  and  is 
CO  miles  in  length  by  30  in  breadth.  It  is  chiefly  occupied  with  moun- 
tain ranges  and  valleys  ;  tlitro  are  few  plains.    Tlio  lartjest  ri'-er  is  tl' ' 


M  E  T  —  M  E  T 


57 


-utuated  on  the  Straits  of  Messiua  (at  this  point  about 
■4  niilea  wide),  8  miles  .north-west  of  Eeggio  and  130 
miles  east  by  north  of  Palermo,  in  38°  15'  N.  lat.,  lo°  30' 
E.  long.  The  town  is  built  between  the  sea  and  a  range 
of  sharp  and  rugged  hills,  called  the  Dinnamare,  3707 
feet  at  their  highest  point.  It  runs  in  a  semicircle  round 
the  harbour,  and  presents  a  picturesque  appearance  from 
the  sea,  as  the  houses  rise  in  tiers  upon  the  slope  of  a  hill. 
and  behind  are  the  wooded  mountains. 

Messina  is  the  second  town  of  Sicily  in  importance  and  iii 
^rzK.  Its  population  was  97,074  in  1850, 111,85-tia  1871, 
and  126,497  in  1881.  It  is  an  archiepiscopal  see,  and  has 
a  universitj-,  founded  by  the  Jesuits  in  1548,  with  a  public 
library  of  50,000  volumes. 

The  excellence  of  its  harbour  makes  Messina  an  import- 
ant trading  town.  The  harbour  is  formed  by  a  tongue  of 
low  land  which  runs  out  from  the  shore  in  the  form  of  a 
ackle,  and  encloses  a  round  basin,  open  to  the  north  only, 
■where  the  entrance  channel  is  about  500  yards  wide.  This 
basin  is  H  miles  in  circumference,  and  is  of  such  depth 
that  the  largest  vessels  are  able  to  use  it.  It  is  estimated 
that  1 300  steamers,  with  a  total  of  1,000,000  tons  burthen, 
BJod  9000  sailing  ships,  with  a  total  of  500,000  tons  bur- 
then, enter  the  port  yearly.  The  exports  of  Messina  consist 
•chiefly  of  cranges,  lemons,  raisins,  wiue,  oil,  liquorice,  and 
hides.  ILfcreis  no  prominent  manufacture;  but  silk  stuffs 
are  made  in  considerable  quantities.  Many  of  the  inhabit- 
ants are  engaged  in  fishing,  chiefly  for  tunny.  Sword-fish 
also  are  captured  with  the  haqjoon  iu  the  Straits  during 
July  and  August.  Coral  fishery  is  a  trade  of  the  people. 
The  hills  behind  Messina  produce  a  strong  dark  wine, 
inferior  to  that  which  is.  made  in  other  parts  of  the 
island. 

Jlessina  has  few  buildings  of  importance  or  antiquity. 
Tlie  sieges  and  earthquakes  from  which  the  town  has 
suffered  destroyed  most  of  its  monuments.  After  the  great 
earthquake  in  1783  the  city  was  almost  entirely  rebuilt. 
The  cathedral,  the  principal  building,  is  a  church  of  the 
Norman  period.  It  was  begun  in  1098  by  Count  Roger 
L,  and  finished  by  his  son  Roger  IL  The  church  is  in  the 
form  of  a  Latin  cross,  305  feet  long  and  145  feet  wide  in 
the  transepts.  The  lower  half  of  the  facade  is  encrusted 
"with  slabs  of  red  and  white  marble.  It  has  three  Gothic 
pfcrtals,  with  pointed  arches  and  rich  ornamentation, 
belonging  to  the  period  of  the  Anjou  dynasty.  Tljc  nava 
contains  twenty-six  columns  of  Egyptian  granite,  said  to 
have  been  brought  from  an  ancient  temple  of  Poseidon 
which  stood  near  the  Faro.  The  mosaics  of  the  apses  date 
from  the  year  1330.  In  the  choir  are  tlie  sarcophagi  of 
the  emperor  Conrad  TV.  (d.  1254),  of  AJphonso  the  Generous 
(d.  1458),  and  of  Antonia,  widow  of  Frederick  III.  of 
Aragpn.  In  1254  the  cathedral  was  seriously  damaged  by 
Sre;  in  1559  the  campanile  was  burned  down;  in  1783 
the  earthquake  overthrew  the  campanile  and  the  transept. 
Tlio  building  therefore  offers  a  mixture  of  styles, — first 
Norman,  then  Gothic,  then  Early  Renaissance,  finally 
Barocco  and-Modern  Gothic. 

The  history  of  Messina  begins  very  carlr.  It  is  sai<l  to  have  been 
founded,  on  the  situ  of  a  more  ancient  Sicilian  town,  by  pirates 
fr'.m  Cumse,  in  732  B.C.  It  took  its  earlier  name  cf  Zanclc  (a 
sickle)  from  the  shape  of  its  harbour.  Tlio  numljer  of  its  iiihabit- 
Jints  was  increased  by  an  influx  of  ChalciJians  uni'er  Crat.cmenes : 
nnd  in  649  B.c.  the  town  was  sufficiently  prosperous  and  populous 
to  establish  a  colony  at  Himera.  The  Samian's  occuoieJ  Zaucle  for 
» slort  time  after  Miletus  had  been  captured  by  the  Persians  in 
491  B.C.  In  the  following  year  the  city  fell  iuto  the  har.Js  of 
j\naril.as,  tyrant  of  KhegiuEi,  who  introduced  a  population  of 
Mcssenians,  from  Messenia  in  the  Peloponnesus  :  and  they  changed 
the  jiarae  of  tho  place  to  Messana,  in  the  Doric  pronunciation,  to 

Aicwtara.  The  chief  towns  are  Messina.  Castroreale,  Mistretta. 
J^iti,  and  Milazzo.  Tl'.o  ponulaSLoa  ia  1S54  was  3S0,279,  iu  1371 
•i!!0,ii!9,  .'..id  in  1881  4fi7,iSi 


remind  them  of  their  fatherland.  The  sons  of  Anaxilas  wore  ex- 
pelled from  the  goverument  of  Messina  in  166  B.f.,  and  a  republic 
established  ;  and  this  government  was  continued  until  Messina 
fell  into  the  hands  of  the  Carthaginians  during  their  wai-a  with 
Diouysius  the  elder  of  Syracuse  (396  B.C.).  The  Carthaginian? 
destroyed  the  city ;  but  Dionysiiis  recaptured  aud  rebuilt  it. 
During  the  next  fifty  years  Messina  changed  mastei-s  several  times, 
till  Timolcon  finally  expelled  the  Carthaginians  in  313  B.c.  In  the 
wars  between  Agathocles  of  Syracuse  and  Carthage,  Messina  took 
the  side  of  the  Carthaginians.  Agathocles's  mei-ceuaries,  tho 
Mamertines,  treacherously  seized  the  town  in  2S8  B.c.  uud  held  it. 
They  came  to  war  n-ith  Hiero  II.  of  Sji-acuse,  after  Agathocles'a 
death  ;  and  Micro's  allies,  the  Carthaginians,  helped  him  to  roduc; 
3Iessina.  The  Mamertines  appealed  for  help  to  Rome,  whidi  was 
granted,  and  this  led  to  a  collision-.betwcen  Eome  ami  Carth.ige, 
which  ended  in  the  First  Punie  War.  At  the  close  of  that  wiir,~iu 
241  B.C.,  Messina  became  a  possession  of  the  Romans.'  During 
the  civil  wars  which  followed  the  death  of  Julius  Ca;sar,  Messina 
held  \rith  Sextus  Pompeius  ;  and  in  35  B.C.  it  was  sacked  ly 
Octavian's  troops.  After  Octavian's  proclamation  as  emperor  he 
founded  a  colony  here  ;  and  Messina  coiitinueil  to  flourish  as  a 
trading  port.  In  the  division  of  the  Koman  empire  it  belonged  to 
the  emperors  of  the  East  ;  aud  in  647  A.D.  Belisarius  collected 
his  fleet  hero  before  crossing  into  Calabria.  The  Saracens  took  the 
city  in  831  A.n. ;  and  in  1061  it  was  the  fii*st  jiermanent  conquest 
made  ui  Sicily  by  the  Normans  under  Roger  d'Hauteville.  In 
1190  Richard  Cceur  de  Lion  with  his  crusaders  passed  tix  moutha 
in  Messina.  He  fell  out  with  Tancred,  the  last  of  thfe  Hauteville 
dynasty,  and  sacked  the  town.  In  1194  the  city,  with  the  rest  of 
Sicily,  passed  to  the  house  of  Hohenstaufeu  under  the  eni])eror 
Henry  VI.,  who  died  there  in  1197.  At  the  time  of  the  Sicilian 
Vespers  (1282),  which  drove  the  French  out  of  Sicily,  Messin:i 
bravely  defended  itself  against  Charles  of  Anjou,  and  repulsed  liis 
attack.  Peter  I.  of  Aragon,  throuoh  his  commander  Ruggicro  di 
Loria,  defeated  the  French  otf  the  Faro  ;  and  from  1282  to  171-1 
Messina  remained  a  pos.tessiou  of  the  Spanish  royal  house.  In  !."»71 
the  fleet  fitted  out  by  the  Holy  League  against  the  Turk  asseiubl.:d 
at  Messina,  and  in  the  same  year  its  commander,  Don  John  of 
Austria,  celebrated  a  triumph  in  the  city  for  his  victory  at  Lepanto. 
Don  Jolin's  statue  stands  in  the  Piazza  delP  Annuziata.  For  one 
hundred  years,  thanks  to  the  favours  and  the  concessions  of  Charles 
v.,  Messina  enjoyed  great  prosperity.  But  the  internal  quaiTels 
between  the  Merii,  or  aristocratic  faction,  and  the  Jlalvezzi,  or 
democratic  faction,  fomented  as  they  were  by  the  Spaniards, 
helped  to  ruin  the  city  (1571-78).  The  Messinians  suspected  tlic 
Spanish  court  of  a  desire  to  destroy  the  ancient  senatorial  consti- 
tution of  the  city,  and  sent  to  France  to  ask  the  aid  of  LouLs 
XIV.  in  their  resistance.  Louis  despatched  a  fleet  into  Sicilian 
waters,  and  tho  French  occupied  the  city.  The  Spaniards  replied 
by  appealing  to  Holland,  who  sent  a  fleet  under  Ruyter  into  the 
Mediterranean.  The  French  admiral,  Duquesne,  defeated  llii 
combined  fleet  of  Sjiain  and  Holland,  but,  notwithstanding  tliis 
victoiy,  the  French  siuldenly  abandoned  itessina  in  1678,  and  the 
Spanish  occupied  the  town  once  more.  The  senate  was  suppressed, 
and  Messina  lost  its  privileges.  This  was  fatal  to  the  iroport;in<-c 
of  the  city,  and  it  nevrr  recovered.  In  1743  the  plague  caiTied  oil 
40,000  inhabitants.  The  city  was  partially  destroyed  by  earth- 
quake in  1783.  During  the  revolution  of  1848  against  the  Bourbons 
of  Naples,  Messina  was  bombarded  for  three  consecutive  days.  In 
1854  the  deaths  from  cholera  numbered  about  15,000.  Garibaldi 
lauded  in  Sicily  in  1860,  and  Jlessina  w.as  the  last  city  in  the  island 
taken  from  tho  Bourbons  and  made  a  nart  of  united  Italy  und.^r 
Victor  Emmanuel. 

Messina  was  the  birthplace  ofrthe  following  celebrated  men : 
Dicaearchus,  the  historian  {cir.  322  B.C.) ;  Aristocles,  the  Peri- 
patetic ;  Euhemerus,  the  rationalist  {cir.  316  B.C.) ;  Stci'ano 
Protonotario,  Klazzeo  di  Ricco,  and  Tomniasodi  Sa-^iso,  poets  of  the 
court  of  Frederick  II.  (1250  A.n.) ;  and  Antonello  da  Messina,  the 
painter  (1447-99),    five   of    whose   works  are    preserved    in   the 

I  university  gallery.  During  the  15th  century  the  grammarian 
Constantino  Lascaris  taught  in  Messina  ;  and  Bessarion  was  for  a 

I  time  archimandrite  there. 

I      METALLURGY,  a  branch  of  applied   science  whoso 

■  object  is  to  describe  and  scientifically  criticize  the  methods 
used  industrially  for  the  extraction  of  metals  from  their 
ores.  Of  the  large  number  of  metals  enumerated  in  the 
handbooks  of  chemistry,  the  vast  majority,  of  course,  lie 
outside  its  range ;  but  it  is  perhaps  as  well  for  us  to  point 
out  that  in  metallurgic  discussions  even  the  +erni 
"  metallic,"  as  applied  to  compounds,  has  a  restricted 
meaning,  being  exclusive  of  all  the  light  metals,  although 
one  of  these,  namely  aluminium,  is  being  manufactured 
industrially.  The  following  table  enumerates  in  the  order 
of  their  importance  the  metals  which  cur  subject  at  pre.-eat 


58 


METALLURGY 


's  understood  to  include ;  the  second  column  in  each  case 
gives  the  chemical  characters  of  the  native  compounds 
utilized,  italics  indicating  ores  of  subordinate  importance. 
The  term  "  oxide  "  must  be  understood  to  include  carbon- 
ate, hydrate,  and  occaaionaJly  (when  marked'  in  the  table 
with  *'!  sUicate. 

VIetaL  Character  of  Ores. 

Iron  Oxides,  sulphide. 

P  \  Complex    sulphides,    also   oxidea, 

"^      \      metal. 

„.,  i  Sulphide      and      reguline     metal, 

»'>«■• i      ehloride.  ^ 

Gold' Reguline  metaL 

T     J  i  Sulphide  and  basic-carbonate,  sul- 

^^"1 -i      pLlc&c. 

Zinc Sulphide,  oxide.* 

Tin Oxide. 

Mercury Sulphide,  reguline  metal. 

Antimony Sulphide. 

Bismuth Keguline  metal. 

Nickel  and  cobalt Arsenides. 

Platinum  and  platinum  metals... Reguline. 
Aluminium Oxide,  *  sodio-fluoride. 

'We  have  separated  the  last  two  from  the  rest  because 
the  methods  used  for  their  preparation  are  more  of  the 
character  of  laboratory  operations,  and  because  we  do  not 
mean  to  include  these  in  our  general  exposition  of  metal- 
lurgic  principles.  The  history  of  metallurgy,  up  to  the 
most  recent  times,  is  obscure.  It  is  only  since  about  the 
beginning  of  this  century  that  the  art  has  come  to  be  at 
all  scientifically  criticized ;  and  in  the  case  of  the  most 
important  processes  all  that  science  has  been  able  to  do 
has  been  merely  to  put  her  stamp  upon  what  experience 
has  long  found  to  be  right.  Great  and  brilliantly 
successful  scientific  efforts  in  the  synthetic  line  are  not 
wanting,  but  they  all  belong  to  recent  times.  Science,  by 
its  very  nature,  aims  at  publicity ;  empiricism  at  all  times 
has  done  the  reverse ;  hence  a  hiotory  of  the  development 
of  the  art  of  metallurgy  does  not  and  cannot  exist.  A 
few  historical  notes  on  the  discovery  of  certain  of  the  useful 
metals  are  given  in  the  introduction  to  Metals  (q.v.). 

General  Sequence  of  Operations. — Occa.sionally  metallic 
ores  present  themselves  in  the  shape  of  practically  pure 
compact  masses,  from  which  the  accompanying  matrix  or 
"  gangue "  can  be  detached  by  hand  and  hammer.  But 
this  is  a  rare  exception.  In  most  cases  the  "  ore,"  as  it 
comes  out  of  the  mine,  is  simply  a  mixture  of  ore  proper 
and  gangue,  in  which  the  latter  not  unfroquently  predomi- 
nates so  much  that  it  is  not  the  gangue  but  the  ore  that 
really  occupies  the  position  of  what  the  chemist  would  call 
the  impurity.  Hence,  in  general,  it  is  necessary,  or  at 
least  expedient,  to  purify  the  ore  as  such  before  the  libera- 
tion of  the  metal  is  attempted.  Most  metallic  ores  are 
specifically  heavier  than  the  impurities  accompanying  them, 
and  their  purification  may  be  (and  generally  is)  effected 
by  reducing  the  crude  ore  to  a  fine  enough  powder  to 
detach  the  metallic  from  the  earthy  part,  rfud  then  washing 
away  the  la.tter  by  a  current  of  water,  as  far  as  possible. 
In  the  case  of  a  "  reguline  "  ore,  such  as  auriferous  quartz, 
for  instance,  the  ore  thus  concentrated  may  consist  substan- 
tially of  the  metal  itself,-  and  require  only  to  be  melted 
down  and  cast  into  ingots  to  be  ready  for  the  market. 
This,  however,  is  a  rare  case,  the  vast  majority  of  ores 
being  chemical  compounds,  which  for  the  extraction  of 
their  metals  demand  chemical  treatment.  The  chemical 
operations  involved  may  bo  classified  as  follows : — 

1.  Fiery  Operations.^The  ore,  along  in  general  with 
some  kind  of  "flux,"  is  exposed  to  the  direct  action  of  a 
powerful  fire.  ■'  The  fire  in  most  eases  has  a  chemical,  in 
addition  to  its  obvious  physical  function.  It  is  intended 
either  to  burn  away  certain  components  of  the  ore— in 
which  case  it  m'lst  be  so  regulated  as  to  contriin  a  suiiicient 


excess  of  unbumed  oxygen ;  or  it  is  meant  to  deoxidize- 
( "  reduce  ")  the  ore,  when  the  draught  must  be  rest  ricted 
so  as  to  keep  the  ore  constantly  ^^Tapped  up  in  combustible 
fkme  gases  (carbonic  oxide,  hydrogen,  marsh-gas,  ire). 
The  vast  majority  of  the  chemical  operations  of  metallurgy 
fall  into  this  category,  and  in  these  processes  other  metal- 
reducing  agents  than  those  naturall}'  contained  in  the  fire 
(or  wind)  are  only  exceptionally  employed. 

2.  Atnali/amalion. — The  ore  by  itself  (if  it  happens  t> 
bo  a  reguline  one),  or  the  ore  plus  certain  reagents  (if  it 
does  not),  is  worked  up  with  mercury  so  tliat  the  metal  i.* 
obt3,ined  ultimately  as  an  amalgam,  which  can  be  separated 
m'echanically  from  the  dross.  The  purified  amalgam  is 
subjected  to  distillation,  when  the  mercury  is  recovered  as 
a  distillate  while  the  metal  remains. 

3.  Wet  Processes. — Strictly  spealdng,  certain  amalgama^ 
tion  methods  fall  under  this  head  ;  but,  in  its  ordinary 
acceptance,  the  term  refers  to  processes  in  which  the  metal 
is  extracted  either  from  the  natural  ore,  or  from  the  ore  as 
it  is  after  roasting  or  some  other  preliminary  treatment,  by 
means  of  an  aqueous  acid  or  salt  solution,  and  from  this 
solution  precipitated — generally  in  the  reguline  form — ^bv 
some  suitable  reagent. 

Few  methods  of  metal  extraction  at  once  yield  a  pure 
product.  'What  as  a  rule  is  obtained  is  a  more  or  less 
impure  metal,  which  requires  to  be  "  refined  "  to  become 
fit  for  the  market.  'We  now  pass  to  the  individual  con- 
sideration of  the  several  steps  referred  to. 

Comminution  of  Ores. — Assuming  the  ore  to  be  given  in  the  shape 
of  large  lumps,  these  must  first  be  broken  up  into  small  stones  (t.f' 
about  the  size  of  those  used  for  macadamizing  a  road)  before  they  can 
go  to  the  grinding-mill.  This  formerly  used  to  be  done  by  hand- 
work; nowadays  it  is  preferably  effected  by  means  of  aii  American 
invention  called  the  stone-breaker  (fig.  1).  This  con.sists  essentially  of 
two  substantial  vertical  iron  plates ;  one  is  fixed,  the  other  is  couuected 
with  an  excentric  worked  by  an  engine  so  as  to  alternately  dash  against 
and  recede  from  the  former.  The  lumps  of  ore,  in  passing  through 
this  jaw-like  contrivance,  are  broken  up  into  smaller  fragments  fit  for 


Fia.  1.— .^ll.■ -io.-in  tstom-Brcakei'. 
the  mill.  For  the  production  of  a  coarse  powdtr  revolving  cylinders 
are  often  employed.  Two  cylinders  of  equ.al  diameter  and  length, 
made  of  iron,  steel,  or  stone,  are  suspended  by  parallel  axes  in  close 
proximity  to  each  other.  The  widtn  of  the  sUt  between  them  can 
de  made  to  vary  according  to  the  requirements  of  the  case.  The 
cylinders  are  made  to  revolve  in  opposite  directions,  so  that  the 
stones  when  run  into  the  groove  formed  by  their  upper  halves  are 
drawn  between  them  and  are  crushed  into  bits  of  a  size  dependinjr 
on  the  least  distance  between  the  two  surfaces.  Exceptionally  hard 
stones  might  bring  the  machine  to  a  standstill  or  'cause  breakages  ; 
hence  only  one  of  the'two  axes  of  rotation  is  absolutely  fixed  ;  the 
cushions  of  the  other  are  only  held  in  relatively  fixed  positions, 
each  bet^veen  a  couple  of  guiding  rails,  by  means  of  powerful  springs 
at  their  backs.  The  springs  arc  made  of  alternalo  disks  of  india- 
rub!;  r  .aid  sheet  iron,  and  yield  appreciably  only  to  very  strong, 
pressures.     Wheanu  excv'itionallyhai-d  stoue  romca  on,  tbcyyieli 


M  E  T  A  L  L  U  n  G-Y 


69 


and  alloir  it  to  pass  through  uncrashed.  Sometimes  tiro  sets  of 
cylinders  are  arranged  one  above  the  other,  so  that  the  grit  from  the 
oj)per  falls  into  the  jaws  of  the  lower  set  to  receire  further  com- 
mination.  The  diameter  of  the  cylinders  is  from  a  foot  to  a  yard, 
their  length  from  9  inches  to  a  yard,  the  velocity  of  a  point  on  the 
periphery  a  foot  to  a  yard  per  second.  The  quantity  of  ore  reduced 
per  hour  per  lioi-se-power  is  about  5  cubic  feet  for  quartz  or  other 
hard  minerals,  and  about  14  cubic  feet  for  minerals  of  moderate 
hardness. 

For  the  production  of  a  rcl.itivoly  line  powder  the  pounding-mill 
is  frequently  used,  which,  in  its  action,  is  analogous  to  «  mortar  and 
pestle.  The  morUr  is  a  rectangular  trough,  while  the  pestle  is 
replaced  by  a  parallel  sot  of  heavy  metal  or  metal-shod  beams, 
which  (by  means  of  a  revolving  cylinder  with  cogs  catching  pio- 
jections  on  the  beams)  are  lifted  up  in  succession  and  tuen 
let  fall  by  their  own  weight  so  as  to  pound  up  tlie  ore  in  the  trough. 
Tlie  ore  is  supplied  from  a  prismatic  reservoir  with  a  sloping 
bottom  leading  iuto  a  canal  througli  which  the  stones  slide  into 
tlic  trough.  A  current  of  water,  which  constantly  flows  into  the 
trough  from  below,  lifts  uji  the  finer  particles  and  carries  them 
away  over  the  edge  of  the  trough  into  a  settling  tank. 

The  object  pursuej'iu  powdering  an  ore  is  to  prepare  it  for  being 
purified  by  washing.  But  the  velocity  with  whicli  a  solid  particle 
falls  through  water  de|>ends  on  its  size  as  well  as  on  its  specific 
gravity — an  increase  in  eitlier  accelerating  the  fall ;  hence,  where 
tlio  dilfcrence  in  specific  gravity  between  tlie  things  to  be  seprated 
is  small,  the  washing  must  be  preceded  by  a  separation  of  the  ore- 
powder  into  porlioiis  of  approximately  enual  fineness.  This  is  often 
elfected  by  ]>a»iug  the  ore  through  a  system  of  sieves  of  different 
width  of  ijK'sh  superposed  over  one  another,  the  coarser  sieve 
always  occupying  the  higher  jiositiou.  Sometimes  the  sieves  are 
'made  to  "go  dry,"  sometimes  tliey  arc  aided  in  their  action  by  a 
current  of  water  which,  more  effectually  thau  mere  shaking,  pre- 
vents adherence  of  dust  to  coarser  jiarts. 

Another  contrivance  is  the  "  Drum  "  (fig.  2).  A  long  perforated 
circular  cylinder  made  of  sheet-iron,  open  at  both  ends,  is  suspended, 
in  .1  sloping  position,  by  a  revoh  ing  shaft  iwssing  through  its  axis. 
The  size  of  the  perforations  is  generally  made  to  increase  in  passing 
from  the  upper  to  the  lower  belts  of  the  cylinder.     While  the  drum 


Fio.  2.- Drum. 

is  revolving,  the  ore,  suspended  in  water,  flows  in  at  the  upper  end, 
and  iu  travelling  down  it  casts  off  first  its  finest  and  then  its  coarser 
jiarts,  the  coarsest  only  reaching  the  exit  at  the  lower  end.  Tlie 
several  grailes  of  jiowder  jiroduced  fall  each  into  a  separate  division 
of  the  collecting  tank. 

The  drum,  of  course,  is  subject  to  endless  modifications.  A 
very  ingenious  combination  is  H.  E.  Taylor's  "Drum  Dressin" 
M.achinc  "  (lig.  3).  It  consists  of  three  truncated  cone-shapc3 
hums  D,  fixed  co-axially  to  the  5,imc  horizontal  revolving  shaft, 


li    u  1    f  \     2, 
are  not  perforated,  but 


are  armed  inside  with  screw-threads  formed  of  strips  of  sheet  metal 


«ied  edgeways  to  the  drum.  The  ore  grit  to  be  dressed  is  placed' 
in  a  hopper  A,  and  from  it,  by  a  worm  B  filed  to  the  revolviue 
shaft,  IS  being  screwed  forward  into  a  short  fixed  truncated  cone  C 
projecting  into  the  revolving  drum  No.  1,  iuto  which  it  flows  in 
a  constant  current.  The  rotary  motion  of  the  drum  tends  to 
convev  the  ore  along  the  spiral  path  prescribed  by  the  screw-thread 
towards  the  other  end,  and  from  it  into  drum  No.  2,  and  so  on. 
But  the  ore  in  each  drum  meets  with  a  jet  of  water  E  impelling 
It  the  opposite  way,  and  the  effect  is  that,  in  each  drum,  tht 
lighter  parts  follow  the  wafer,  and  with  it  run  off  over  the 
entrance  edge  to  be  collected  in  a  special  tank,  while  the  coarser 
parte  roll  down  the  spiral  path  toward  the  next  drum  to  undereo 
further  parting.  The  tank  or  pit  for  drum  1  r-ceives  the  finest 
and  hghtest  parte,  that  of  dram  2  a  heavier,  that  of  drum  3  a 
still  heavier  portion,  while  only  the  very  heaviest  matter  finds 
Its  way  out  of  the  exit  end  of  No.  3  into  a  fourth  receptacle. 

Of  the  large  number  of  other  ore-dressers,  only  two  need  be  men- 
tioned here. 

The  "Claosthal  Turn-Table"  consiste  of  a  circular  table,  the  sur- 
face of  which  rises  from  the  periphery  towards  the  centre  so  as  to 
form  a  very  flat  cone  of  about  170°,  which  is  fixed  co-axially  to  a  ver- 
tical rotary  shaft.  At  the  apex  of  the  Uble,  surrounding  the  shaft, 
but  independent  of  its  motion,  there  is  a  circular  trough  of  sheet  zinc, 
divided  into  two  compartmente  ;  one  receives  a  stream  of  water 
carrying  the  ore,  the  other  a  supply  of  pure  water.  A  large  annu- 
lar trough  of  sheet  zinc  is  placed  below  the  periphery  of  the  table 
so  as  to  receive  whatever  may  tall  over  the  edge.  It  also  is  divided 
into  compartments,  as  shall  be  explained  further  on.  Supposing  the 
table  to  be  at  rest,  a  sector  of  about  60°  of  it  would  be  constantly 
run  over  by  the  ore-mud  out  of  the  first  compartment  of  the  upper 
trough.  This  mud  current  would  suffer  partial  separation  into 
heavier  and  lighter  parts,— rich  ore  resting  in  the  higher  and 
poorer  in  the  lower  latitudes,  and  a  still  poorer  ore  falling  over  the 
periphery  into  the  lower  trough.  The  same  happens  with  the 
moving  table  ;  only  each  sector  of  such  partially  analysed  ore  under- 
goes further  purification  by  passing  tluough  about  90°  of  water- 
shower.  After  passing  this,  it  mcete  with  a  perforated  fixed  water- 
pipe  going  up  radially  to  about  half  the  radius  of  the  table.  This 
pipe  also  carries  sweeping  brushes,  so  that  the  belt  of  ore  from  the 
lower  latitudes  of  the  Uble  is  swept  off  into  the  corresponding  section 
of  the  receiving  trough.  AVhat  of  ore  remains  on  the  higher  laritudes 
subsequently  meets  with  a  similar  arrangement  which  sweeps  it  oB 
into  its  compartment  If  the  table  turns  from  the  left  to  the  right, 
and  we  follow  the  process,  beginning  at  the  left  edge  of  the  ore-mud 
compartment,  it  will  be  seen  that  a  fii-st  sector  of  the  receivin" 
trough  gathers  the  light  dross,  a  succeeding  one  an  intenncdiate 
product,  a  third  the  most  highly  purified  ore.  The  "intermediate" 
is  generally  run  into  the  ore-mud  trough  of  a  second  teble  to  be 
further  analysed. 

In  the  "Continuous  Wash-Pumps"  (Continuirliche  Setzpumpe) 
of  the  Harz,  three  funnel-shaped  vessels  (one  of  which  is  shown  in 
fig.  4)  are  set  in  a  frame  beside  one  another,  but  at  different  levels, 
so  that  any  overflow  from  No.  1  runs  into  No.  2  and  thence  into 
No.  3.     Each  funnel  communicates  below  with  ite  own  compart- 
ment of  a  common  cistern. 
Into  each   funnel   a   riddle 
with  narrow  meshes  is  in- 
serted somewhere  near  the 
upper  end,  while,  beside  the 
riddle,   there  is  a  pump  of 
short      range,     which,     by 
means   of    an   excentric,    is 
worked   so  that  the  piston 
alternately      goes      rapidly 
down  and  slowly  up.     The 
mode    of    working    is  best 
explained    by   an    example. 
At  Breinigerberg  in  Rhenish 
Prussia  the  apparatus  serves 
to  separate   a   complex  ore 
into     the     following     four 
parts,  which  we  enumerate 
in  the  order  of  their  specific 
gravities— (1)    galena     (the 
heaviest),    (2)    pyrites,    (3) 
blende,     (4)    dross.      Sieve 
No.      1     is     charged    with 
granules     of    galena,    just 
large    enough    not    to  slip 
through  the  meshes.  No.  2 
similarly  with   granules  of 
pyrites.  No.  3  with  those  of  blende.     The  .crude  ore-mud  goes  into 
sieve  1  ;    the  jerking  action  of  the  pump  alternately  tosses  the 
particles  up  into  the  water  and  allows  them  to  fall  ;  the  heaviest 
naturally  come  down    first,    but   what  is  most   striking  is  that 
nothing  will  pass  through  the  bed  of  galena  but  what  is  at  least 
as  heavy  as  galena  itself.     In  a  similar  manner  No.  2  and  No.  S 


Fio.  i. — Continuous  Wash-Pump. 


60 


M  E  T  A  L  L  U  R  (t   i 


funnels  sift  out  the  pyritos  iinil  the  blende  respectively,  so  that 
Elmost  iiotliiug  but  dross  runs  off  ultimately.  The  apparatus  is 
said  to  do  its  work  with  a  wonderful  degree  of  precision,  and  of 
course  is  susceptible  of  wider  application,  but  it  ceases  to  work 
when  the  raw  material  is  a  slime  so  fine  that  the  particles  fall  too 
slowly. 

Wodes  of  Producing  High  Temperatures. — Most  of  what  is  to  be 
said  on  this  topic  has  already  been  anticipated  in  the  articles 
Flt.l,  Fuenace,  and  Bellows  ;  but  a  few  notes  may  be  added 
oti  specially  metallurgic  points. 

Furnace  Materials. — In  a  metallurgic  furnace  tlic  working  parts 
a:  least  must  be  made  of  special  materials  capable  of  withstanding 
tlic  very  high  temperatures  to  which  they  are  exposed  and  the 
action  of  tl'o  fluxes  which  may  be  used.  No  practically  available 
material  fully  meets  both  requirements,  but  there  is  no  lack  of 
iiurely  fire-proof  substances. 

Of  native  stones,  a  pure  quartzose  saud.stone,  free  from  marl, 
may  be  named  as  being  well  adapted  for  the  generality  of  structures; 
but  such  sandstone,  or  indeed  any  kind  of  fire-proof  stone,  is  not 
always  at  hand.  Wh;\t  is  more  readily  procured,  and  consequently 
more  widely  used,  is  refractory  brick,  made  from  "fire-clay."  The 
characteristic  chemical  feature  of  fire-clays  is  that  in  them  the  clay 
proper  (always  some  kind  of  h'ydrated  silicate  of  alumina)  is  associated 
with  only  small  proportions  of  lime,  magnesia,  ferrous  oxide,  or 
other  protoxides.  If  the  percentage  of  these  goes  beyond  certain 
limits,  the  bi-ieks',  when  fetrongly  heated,  melt  down  into  a  slag. 
The  presence  of  fre?  silica,  on  the  other  hand,  adds  to  their  refrac- 
toriness. In  tact  the  best  fire-bricks  in  existenc*  are  the  so-called 
Dinas  bricks,  which  consist  substantially  of  silica,  contaminated 
only  with  just  enough  of  bases  to  cause  it  to  frit  together  on  bein^ 
baked.  Dinas  briclcs,  however,  on  account  of  their  high  price,  are 
reserved  for  special  cases  involving  exceptionally  high  temperatures. 
Amongst  ordinary  fire-bricks  those  from  Stourbridge  enjoy  tho 
highest  reputation.  It  follows  from  what  has  just  been  said  that, 
in  a  metallurgic  furnace,  lime-mortar  cannot  be  used  as  a  cement, 
but  must  be  replaced  by  fire-clay  paste. 

lu  the  construction  of  cupels,  reverberatory  furnaces,  &c. ,  only 
tho  general  groundwork  is,  as  a  rule,  made  of  built  bricks,  and  this 
groundwork  is  coated  over  with  some  kind  of  special  fire-proof  and 
lux-proof  material,  such  as  bone-ash,  a  mixture  of  baked  fire-clay 
and  cokes  or  graphite,  or  of  quarts  and  very  highly  silicated  slags,  &c. 
These  beddings  are  put  on  in  a  loose  powdery  i'rnn,  and  then  stamped 
fast  They  offer  the  advantage  that,  when  worn  out,  they  are  easily 
removed  and  renewed.  The  powerful  draught  which  a  metallui'gic 
fire  needs  can  be  produced  by  a  chimney,  where  the  fuel  forms  a 
relatively  shallow  layer  spread  over  a  largo  grating;  but,  when 
closely-packed  deep  masses  of  fuel  or  fuel  and  ore  have  to  be  kept 
ablaze,  a  blast  becomes  indispensable. 

Chimneys. — The  efficiency  of  a  chimney  is  measured  by  the 
velocity  V  with  which  the  air  ascends  through  it,  multiplied  by  its 
section  ;   andi  the  former  is  in  roughly  approximate   accordance 

with  the  fonnnla  

V-^VZ^lT-ToVTo, 

-.ffhere  h  stands  for  tho  height  of  the  chimney,  g  for  the  acceteration 
of  gravity  (32'2  feet  per  second),  and  T  and  T^  for  the  absolute 
temperatures  (meaning  tho  temperatures  counted  from  -  273'  C.)  of 
the  air  within  and  the  air  without  the  chimney  respectively,  while 
k  is  a  factor  meant  to  account  for  the  resistances  which  the  air,  in 
it.s  progress  through  the  furnace,  &c.,  has  to  overcome.  In  practice 
T  is  talteii  .ts  the  mean  temperature  of  tho  chimney  gases,  which 
rheorctically  is  not  unobjectionable  ;  but  the  weakest  point  in  the 
formula  is  tho  smallness  and  utter  inconstancy  of  the  factor  k^ 
which,  according  to  P^clet,  generally  assumes  some  value  of  the 
r.o'.ver  I,  ^,  &c.  Yet  the  formula  is  of  some  use  as  enabling 
l;i  ;  to  see  tho  way  in  which  V  depends  on  h  and  (T  -  T„)/Tj  con- 
jointly,— to  see,  for  instance,  how  deficient  chimney  height  may  be 
'Compensated  for  by  an  increase  of  temperature  in  the  chimney 
gases,  and  vice  versa. 

DloKlng-Uaehinca. — Of  tho  several  kinds  of  blowers  described 
under  Bellows  (7. v.),  the  *'  fans  "  are  the  best  means  for  producing 
Urge  volumes  of  wind  of  relatively  small  but  steady  pressure  ; 
"bellows"  aro  indicated  in  the  case  of  work  on  a  relatively  small 
.scale  requiring  moderate  wind  pressure;  whilo  tho  "cylinder  blast" 
..omcs  in  where  large  masses  of  high-pressuro  wind  are  required. 
Two  highly  interesting  blowing-machines,  however,  aro  omitted  in 
•hat  article,  which  may  be  sliortly  described  here. 

The  "Water  Blast"  (Wassortrommelgeblase)  is  interesting 
historically,  having  been  used  motallurgically  in  Ilungtiry  for 
many  centuries.  A  mass  of  water,  stored  up  in  a  reservoir,  is  made 
:o  fall  down  continuously  through  a  high  narrow  vertical  shaft 
iiaving  air-holes  at  its  upper  end.  Tho  vortical  column  of  water 
sucks  in  air  through  these  holes  and  carries  it  down  with  it  into  a 
kind  »t  inverted  tub  standing  in  a  reservoir  kept  at  a  constant 
level. •>  Air  and  water  there  seiiarate,  tho  former  (lowing  away 
through  a  jiipe  into  a  wind-box,  fiom  which  it  is  led  to  its  ucstina- 


Tho  "Cagniardellc"  (figs.  5, 6),  so  called  from  its  in'/cntor  Ca^niaril 
Latour,  also  utilizes  water  vo  carry  air,  but  in  quite  anotlu-r  wiy.  By 
means  of  a  round  shaft  passing  through  its  axis,  a  cylindrical  drum 
of  sheet-metal  is  suspended  slantingly  in  a  mass  of  water,  so  that  the 
lower  end  is  fully  immersed,  while  of  the  upper  end  the  segment 
above  the  upper  side  of  the  shaft  is  uncovered.  The  space  between 
«haft  and  drum  is  converted  into  a  very  vide  screw-shapeii  canal  by 
a  band  of  slu'ct-metal  hermctic?-lly  fixed  edgeways  to  the  two.  Both 
tho  top  and  the  bottom  end  of  the  drum  are  partially  closed  by  flat 


Fig.  6. 
to  65  per  cent.  ;  with  bellow?, 


bottoms  sohlcred  or  riveted  to  tho  respective  edges;  tlie  lower 
one  leaves  a  ring-sh.iped  opening  between  its  edge  and  the  shaft, 
which  serves  for  the  introduction  of  a  fixed  air-pipe  bent  so  as  to 
i-each  up  to  near  the  top  of  the  drum's  air-space  ;  in  the  upper 
bottom  three  quadrants  are  closed,  the  fourth  is  open.  Supposing 
the  screw-canal,  traced  from  below,  to  go  from  the  left  to  the  right, 
the  drum  is  made  to  revolve  in  the  same  sens.",  and  the  effect  is  that, 
in  each  revolution,  the  screw-canal  at  its  top  end  swallows  a  certain 
volume  of  air  which,  by  the  succeeding  entrance  of  the  water — wliich, 
of  course,  moves  relatively  to  the  screw 
— is  pushed  towards  and  ultimately  into 
the  air-space  at  the  bottom  end.  The 
Cagninrdelle  yields  a  perfectly  continu- 
ous blast,  and,  as  it  is  not  encumbered 
with  any  dead  resistances  except  the 
friction  of  the  shaft  against  its  bearmgs 
(which  can  bo  reduced  to  very  little) 
and  the  very  slight  friction  of  the  water 
against  tho  screw-canal,  it  utilizes  a 
very  large  percentage  of  the  energy 
speut  on  it  This  percentage,  accord- 
ing to  experiments  by  Schwamlirug, 
amounts  to  from  75  to  84-5;  iu  the 
case  of  tho  cylinder-blast  it  is 

about  40  per  ceut. ;  witli  the  "  'Wasserti-ommelgeblase"  10  to  15  per 
cent.  Hence  the  "  "Wassertrommelgeblase  "  stands  last  in  relative 
etficiencr  ;  but  we  must  not  forget  that  it  alone  directly  utilizes 
nativeener^y,  while,  in  the  cylinder  blast,  for  example,  100  units 
of  work  doSe  by  tho  steam-engine  involve  a  vastly  greater  eneigj 
spest  on  th«  engiue  .as  heat. 

To  maintain  a  desired  temperature  in  a  given  furnace  chargeil  in 
a  certain  manner,  tho  introduction  of  a  certain  volume  of  airper 
unit  of  time  i.s  necessary.  But  this  quantity,  in  a  given  blowing- 
machine,  is  determined  by  the  over-jiressuro  of  the  wind,  as 
raeasurcd'Tiy  a  manometer,  the  velocity  of  the  wind  being  approxi- 
mately proportional  to  \/M/(B-H  M),  wheix'  II  stands  for  the  height 
of  tho  mercury-manometer,  and  B  for  that  of  the  barometer. 
Hence  the  practical  metallurgist,  in  adjusting  his  blast,  has  nothing 
to  do  but  to  seo  that  tho  manometer  shows  the  reading  which,  by 
previous  trials,  has  been  proved  to  yield  an  adequate  supply  of  wind. 

Fuel. — In  sonic  isolated  cases  tho  ore  itself,  by  its  combustion, 
supplies  the  necessary  heat  for  the  operation  to  bo  performed  upon 
it.  Thus,  for  instance,  the  roasting  of  blackbaud  iron-stone  is 
oifected  by  simply  piling  up  the  ore  and  setting  fire  to  it,  so  that 
the  ore  is  at  tho  same  time  its  own  furnace  and  fuel ;  in  tho 
Bessemer  iirocess  of  steel-making,  the  burning  carbon  of  the  pig^ 
iron  supplies  tho  heat  necessary  for  its  own  combustion  ;  and  a 
similar  process  has  been  tried  oxperimentallv,  end  not  without 
success,  for  the  working  up  of  certain  kinds  of  [lyrites.  But,  as  a 
rule,  the  high  temperatures  required  for  the  working  of  ores  are  pro- 
duced by  the  combustion  of  extraneous  fuel,  such  as  wood,  wood- 
charcoal,  coal,  coke  Of  tlioso  four,  wood-charcoal  is  of  tho  widest 
apidicability,  but  not  much  used  in  Britain  on  account  of  \\.» 
liigh  price.     Iligh-eUsii  coke  or  pure  anthrncite,  volsmc  for  volume. 


METALLURGY 


61 


vts  tlio  liigliMt  temperature.  Wood  or  coal  is  indicntcd  when  a 
\  luminous  llame  is  one  of  the  requisites.  Olviousiy  fuel  of  the 
sr.mc  kind  auJ  quality  gives  a  higher  calorific  intensity  when,  before 
use  it  is  deprived  by  drying  of  its  moisture,  or  wheu  it  is  used  iu 
conjunctiou  with  a  hot  instead  of  a  cold  blast  This  latter  prin- 
ciple, as  every  one  knows,  is  largely  discounted  in  the  manufacture 
of  pig-iion,  where  nowadays  coal,  with  the  help  of  the  hot  blast, 
is  made  to  do  what  formerly  could  only  be  effected  with  charcoal  or 
coke.     For  further  in.forniulion  sec  Fuel  and  Inox. 

ciiemical  Operations. — In  regard  to  processes  of  amalgamation 
and  to  wet-way  processes,  we  have  nothing  to  add  to  what  was  given 
in  a  previous  paragraph  ; '.  wo  therefore  here  confine  ourselves,  in 
the  main,  to  ))yro-cheniical  operations. 

The  method  to  bo  adapted  for  the  extraction  o!  i  E?'al  from  its 
ore  is  determined  chiefly,  thougli  not  entirely,  by  the  nature  of  the 
non-metallic  component  with  which  the  metal  is  combined.  The 
simplest  case  is  that  of  the  regulino  ores  where  there  is  no  non- 
metallic  element.  The  important  cases  are  those  of  GoLi>,  Bismuth, 
and  MEncunYte.D.). 

Oxides,  Hydrates,  Carbonates,  and  Silicates. — All  iron  and  tin  ores 
proper  fall  under  this  heading,  which,  besides,  comprises  certain  ores 
of  copper,  of  lead,  and  of  zinc.  In  any  case  the  first  step  consists 
in  subjecting  the  crude  ore  to  a  roasting  process,  the  object  of  which 
is  to  remove  the  water  and  carbonic  acid,  and  burn  away,  to  some 
extent  at  least,  what  there  may  be  of  sulphur,  arsenic,  or  organic 
matter.  The  residue  consists  of  an  impure  (perhaps  a  very  impure) 
oxide  of  the  respective  metal,  which  iu  all  cases  is  reduced  by  treat- 
ment with  fuel  at  a  high  temperature.  Should  the  metal  be  present 
in  the  silicate  form,  lime  must  be  added  in  the  smelting  fo  remove 
thp  silica  and  liberate  the  oxide. 

In  the  case  of  zinc  the  temperature  required  fur  the  reduction  lies 
above  the  boiling  point  of  the  metal ;  hence  the  mixture  of  ore  and 
reducing  agent  {cljarcoal  is  generally  used)  must  be  heated  iu  a 
retort  combined  with  the  necessary  condensing  apparatus.  In  all 
the  other  cases  the  reduction  is  effected  in  the  fire  itself,  a  tower- 
shaped  blast  furnace  being  preferably  used.  The  furnace  is  charged 
with  alternate  layers  of  fuel  and  ore  (or  rather  ore  and  flux,  see  be- 
low), and  the  whole  kindled  from  below.  The  metallic  oxide, 
partly  by  the  direct  action  of  the  carbon  with  which  it  is  in  contact, 
but  principally  by  that  of  the  carbonic  oxide  produced  in  the  lower 
strata  from  the  oxygen  of  the  blast  and  the  hot  carbon  there,  is  re- 
duced to  the  metallic  state  ;  the  metal  fuses  and  runs  down,  with 
the  slag,  to  the  bottom  of  the  furnace,  whence  both  are  withdrawn 
by  the  periodic  opening  of  plug-holes  provided  for  the  pui-pose. 
).  Sulphides.— Inn,  copper,  lead,  zinc,  mercury,  silver,  and  anti- 
mony very  frequently  present  themselves  in  this  state  of  combin- 
ation, as  components  of  a  very  numerous  family  of  ores  which  may 
be  diridcd  into  two  sections  :  (1)  such  as  substantially  consist  of 
simple  sulphides,  as  iron  pyrites  (FeSj),  galena  (Pb.S),  ziuc  blende 
(ZnS),  cinnabar  (llgS) ;  and  (2)  complex  sulphides,  such  as  the 
various  kinds  of  sulphureous  copper  ores  (all  substantially  com- 
pounds or  mixtures  of  sulphides  of  copper  and  iron) ;  bournonitc, 
a  complex  sulphide  of  lead,  antimony,  and  copper  ;  rotligiltigerz, 
sulphide  of  silver,  antimony,  and  arsenic  ;  f^ihlerz,  sulphides  of 
arsenic  and  antimony,  combined  with  suliihides  of  copper,  silver, 
iron,  zinc,  mercury,  silver ;  and  mixtures  of  these  and  other  sul- 
phides v  ith  oue  another. 

In  the  treatment  of  a  sulphureous  ore,  the  first  step  as  a  lule  is 
to  subject  it  to  oxidation  by  ronstiu"  it  in  a  reverberatoiy  or  other 
furn.ace,' which,  in  the  fust  instance,  leads  to  the  buniing  away  of  at 
least  part  of  the  arsenic  and  part  of  the  sulphur.  Tlie  elfect  on  the 
several  individual  metallic  sul[iliides  (supjiosing  only  one  of  these 
to  be  present)  is  as  follows  : — 

M  1.  Those  of  silver  (A"jS)  and  mercury  (HgS)  yield  sulphurons 
acid  gas  and  metal ;  in  the  case  of  silver,  sulphate  is  formed  as  an 
iutenuediate  product,  at  low  temperatures.  Jletallic  niercur}*,  in 
the  circumstances,  goes  off  as  a  vapour,  whicli  is  collected,  and  con-, 
denscd  ;  silver  remains  as  a  regulus,  but  pure  sulphide  of  silver  is 
tliardly  ever  worked. 

52.  Sulphides  of  iron  and  zinc  yield  the  oxides  Fe^Oj  and  ZnO  as 
final  products,  some  basic  sulphate  being  formed  at  the  earlier  stages, 
.   more  especially  in  the  case  of  zinc.     The  oxides  can  be  reduced  by 
carbon. 

>  3.  The  sulphides  of  lead  and  copper  yield,  the  former  a  mixture 
of  oxide  and  normal  sulphate,  the  latter  one  of  oxide  and  basic 
sulphate.  Sulphate  of  lead  is  stable  at  a  red  heat  ;  sulphate  of 
copiier  breaks  up  into  oxide,  sulphurous  acid,  and  oxygen.  In 
ifiractice,  neither  oxidation  process  is  ever  puslied  to  the  end  ;  it  is 
sto])ped  as  soon  as  ^he  mixture  of  roasting-iuoduct  and  unchanged 
sulpnide  contains  oxygen  and  sulphur  in  tlie  ratio  of  O2 :  S.  'I'he 
access  of  air  is  then  stopped  and  the  whole  heated  to  a  higher 
t»-niperature,  when  the  potential  SO^  actually  goes  oflf  as  sulphurous. 
acid  gas  and  the  whole  of  the  metal  is  elindnated  as  such.  This 
method  is  largely  utilized  in  the  smelting  of  lead  (from  g.alena)  and 
of  copuer  from  Vopper  pyrites.     In  the  hitter  case,  however,  the 


V 


'  K^niip^c!  arc  giv 


See  also  SlL^*E^« 


sulphide  Cii^S  has  first  to  bo  produced  from  the  ore,  which  is  done 
substantially  as  follows.  Tlie  ore  is  roasted  with  silica  until  a 
certain  proportion  of  the  sulphur  is  burned  away  as  SO.j,  while  a 
corresponding  proportion  of  oxygen  has  gone  to  "the  metal  ]»rt  of 
the  ore.  Kow  it  so  happens  that  copper  has  a  far  greater  athnity  for 
sulphur  than  iron  has  ;  hence  any  locally  produced  oxide  of  copper, 
OS  long  as  sufficient  sulpliido  of  iron  is  left,  is  sure  to  be  reconverted 
into  suliiliido,  and  the  final  result  is  that,  while  a  large  quantity  of 
oxidized  iron  passes  into  the  slag,  all  the  copper  and  part  of  the  iron 
separate  out  as  a  mixed  regulus  of  CUgS  aaJT  FeS  ("  mat").  This 
regulus,  by  being  fused  up  repeatedly  with  oxidized  copper  ores  or 
rich  copper  slags  (virtually  with  CuO  and  silica),  gradually  yields 
up  the  wliole  of  its  iron,  so  that  ultimately  a  regulus  of  pure  subsul- 
phide  of  copper,  Cu„S  ("fine  mat"),  is  obtained,  whicii  is  worked 
up  for  metal  as  above  explained. 

•1.  Suljihide  of  antinioji}',  when  roasted  in  air,  is  converted  into 
a  kind  of  alloy  of  sulphide  and  oxide  ;  the  same  holds  for  iron, 
only  its  oxysulphide  is  quite  readily  converted  into  the  pure 
oxide  FcaOg  by  further  roasting.  Oxysulphide  of  antimony,  by 
suitable  processes,  can  be  reduced  to  metal,  but  these  processes  aio 
rarely  used,  because  the  samo  end  is  far  more  easily  obtained  bv 
"precipitation,"  i.e.,  withdi-awing  the  sulphur  by  fusion  witli 
metallic  iron,  forming  metallic  antimony  and  sulphide  of  iron. 
Both  products  fuse,  but  readily  part,  because  fused  antimony  is 
far  heavier  than  fused  sulphide  of  iron  is.  A  precisely  similar 
method  is  used  occasionally  for  the  reduction  of  lead  fiom  galena. 
Sulphide  of  lead  when  fused  together  with  metallic  iron  in  tho 
proportion  of  2Fe  :lPbS  yields  a  regulus  (  =  lPb)  and  a  "mat" 
FcoS,  which,  however,  on  cooling,  decomposes  into  FeS  parts  of 
onlinary  sulphide  and  Fo  parts  of  finely  divided  iron.  What  wo 
have  just  been  explaining  are  only  two  special  cases  of  a  moj-c 
general  metallurgic  proposition.  According  to  Fournet,  any  one  of 
the  metals  copper,  iron,  tin,  zinc,  lead,  silver,  antimony,  ai;^enic, 
in  general,  is  capable  of  desulphurizing  or  precipitating  (at  least 
partially)  any  of  the  others  that  follows  it  in  the  series  just  given, 
and  it  does  so  the  more  readily  and  completely  the  greater  the 
nuu^bcr  of  intervening  terms.  Hence,  supposing  a  complete  mix- 
ture of  tliese  metals  to  be  melted  down  under  circumstances  admit- 
ting of  only  a  partial  sulphuration  of  the  whole,  the  cop|ier  has  the 
best  chance  of  passing  into  the  "  mat,"  while  the  arbcuic  is  the 
first  to  be  eliminated  as  such,  or,  in  the  Jircseuce  of  oxidants,  as 
oxide. 

Arsenides. — Although  arsenides  are  amongst  the  c<)nmonest 
impurities  of  ores  generally,  ores  consistiug  essentially  of  arsenides 
are  comparatively  rare.  Tlie  most  important  of  them  arc  certain 
double  arsenides  of  cobalt  and  nickel,  which  in  ]iracticc,  however, 
are  .always  contaminated  with  t^e  ai-senidcs  or  other  coiuiiounds  of 
foreign  metals,  such  as  iron,  manganese,  kc.  The  general  mode  of 
working  these  ores  is  as  follows.  The  ore  is  firet  roasted  by  itself, 
when  a  part  of  the  arsenic  goes  off  as  such  and  as  oxide  (botli 
volatile),  while  a  complex  of  lower  arsenides  remains.  This  residue 
is  now  subjected  to  careful  oxidizing  fusion  in  the  presence  of  glas^ 
or  some  other  fusible  solvent  for  metallic  bases.  The  ell'ect  is  that 
tlio  several  metals  are  oxidized  awiiy  and  pass  into  the  slag  (as 
silicates)  in  the  following  order, — first  the  manganese,  secondly  the 
iron,  thirdly  the  cobalt,  lastly  (and  very  slowly)  tho  nickel ;  and 
at  any  stage  the  as  yet  unoxidized  residue  of  arsenide  assumes  the 
form  of  a  fused  regulus,  which  sinks  down  through  the  slag  as  a 
"speis."  (This  tenii,  as  will  readily  be  understood,  has  the  same 
meaningin  referencctoarsenidesas"mat"  hasinrcgardto  sulphides.) 
By  stopping  the  process  at  the  right  moment,  we  can  juoduce  a 
speis  whicli  contains  only  cobalt  and  nickel,  and  if  at  tliis  stage 
also  the  flux  is  renewed  we  can  further  produce  a  speis  which  con- 
tains only  nickel  and  a  slag  which  substantially  is  one  of  cobalt 
only.  The  composition  of  the  speises generally  varies  IVom  AsMcj.. 
to  AsJIe,.,  where  "  ile  "  means  one  atomic  weight  of  metal  in  toto, 
so  tliat  ill  general  lSIe-a:Fe  +  t/Co-h:iri,  where  z-Hi/H-:-l.^^  The 
siliceous  cobalt  is  utilized  as  a  blue  pigment  called  "  smalte";  the 
nickel-speis  is  worked  up  for  metal,  prefer.aljly  by  wet  processes. 

Minor  Itcmjcnts. — Besides  the  oxidizing  and  reducing  agents  natu- 
rally iiresent  in  the  fire,  and  the  "fluxes"  added  for  the  production 
of  slags,  there  are  various  minor  reagents,  of  whicli  the  niorc  im- 
portant may  bo  noticed  here.  One— namely,  metallic  iron  as  a 
desnliihurizer-li.is  already  been  referred  to.  s  •' 

Oxide  of  lead.  I'bO  (litharge),  is  largely  used  as  an  oxidizing  agent. 
At  a  red  heat,  when  it  melts,  it  readily  attacks  all  metals,  except 
silver  and  gold,  the  general  result  being  tho  formation  of  a  mixed 
oxide  and  of  a  mixed  regulus,  a  distribution,  in  other  words,  of 
both  the  lead  and  the  metal  acted  oil  between  slag  and  regulu?. 
More  important  and  more  largely  utilized  is  its  action  on  metallic 
sulpiiidcs,  which,  in  general,  results  in  the  formation  of  three 
things  besides  sulphurous  acid  gas,  viz.,  a  mixed  oxide  slag  includ- 
ing the  excess  of  litharge,  a  regulus  of  lead  (which  may  include 
bismuth  and  other  more  readily  reducible  metals),  and,  if  the 
lilli.argc  is  not  sufTicient  for  a  complete  oxidation,  a  "m.it" 
comprising  the  more  readily  sulphurizable  niet-iU.  Oxide  of  lead, 
'being  a  niost  powerful  solvent  for  metallic  oxides  gener.illy,  is  also 


62 

krgely  ns.d  for  the  separation  of  silver  or  gold  from  base  n.etallio 

Metallic  leaa  is   to  metals  generally  what  oxide  of  lead  i,  to 
iretall  c  oxides.     It  accordingfy  ia  available  as  a  solvent  fVr  1    ! 

7s  ',f  or^  "r"',"  P"-'-'-  "f  -<«^'  d.ffused  thrTugho  t  a  Tj^l 
01  slag  or  other  dross,  and  uniting  them  into  one  r^ulus  This 
naturally  eads  us  to  consider  the  process  of  "cu  ellatbn  "  wh  o 
discounts  the  solvent  powers  of  both  metallic  iS  a^id  t's  S 
This  process  serves  for  the  extr^iction  of  gold  and  silver  from  t W 
^oys  with  base  metals  such  as  copper,  antimony  Lc  The  fir  t 
aten  s  to  fuse  up  the  alloy  with  a  certain  proportion  of  lead  wMcl 
8  determined  by  the  weight  of  base  metil  to  be  eirm  nakd  and 
la  always  sufficient  to  produce  a  lead-alloy  of  low  fusin"  po"nt  Vhi, 
alloy  IS  heated  on  a  sUllow  dish-shaped  bed  of  bon?  ea  thto  red 
ness.  and  at  this  temperature  subjected  to  the  action  of  air      The 

CcTsir.  ■:  sZra^rgQ^nT/'Krtr'^-^^-f '"^^ 
t^^^T-  "-f  °"=--- - 

carbon  of  the   pig   into   carbonic   acid,   while   the   metal   of  the 
reagent  becomes  iron  and  FeO  or  MnO   resnectivelv    tip    '■, 

rriiS^-^tii^'-Sa^si^ir-^-- 

of  tl'.^^/^f"'i'^?'l='  i^PT'^yrf  for  the  preliminary  concentration  I 

tLlTH%tt1irr  hfh:?'™lelT,"ont=haTfi  I^  ^S" '' 
which  reduces  part  of  the  metairoxiX^pTesen'  ° The^ gofd" and 


iilETALLURGY 


o'i^i^e^i:.'' OxTdtVcale!n°'?r  r-""^*"  '"^'^'  '^'''  '"»"g^"0'" 

^rfs^^s;;-^--"----^- 

sSf^:?r^;^t^:?45P"=?^"'(ca^:s! 

stated  in  an  i.  fmUe  numlllr       '""".P"^"}™  "f  «  silicate  can  be 
of  fo.mulat"on     heir  Su«s  .h?^;''  •j'^.'here  must  be  one  n.ode 
I  mode  adapted  by  mc  aIlur»U,.  1°  '^?,""P  «'  '"nis.     The 

we  start  with  tlfeTuant  tf  r  T'"""?- '''".""'  ''°"™'''S-  " 
H,SO,of  sulphmic^"aew7t"=,Lr  tira'"tn?„?'''T  '■';?  1"?"'"^ 
I  normal  salt  we  renuire  sn!-!,,  '^""..  r?  convert  either  into  a 
H.  of  the  acireoZ  telv7l\?"f''"'/  f ,]['''  ^'  'V"  '=°'>vert  the 
does  so  is  that  containinVo^!  V  •'  ''"  ',""■  q'"">'i<yof  l>ase  that 
is  reasonab  to  define  the  o"anHi'°rn'"r''  "'' "^^W"-  Henceit 
CaO  of  lime,  M^  of  ma'n'esia  fvn  ,V  "'  ^"""'V  ^"=0  "^  ^'"^''.' 
of  alumina,  iFero/.ftolof  eni.  »' ^"^"^''^■Je,  JAIA(-alO) 
equivalent ■■^;iZ  aL° iCreft"  Le  lo'^iHc^'Xr'T  'f'  ,"°"^ 
ol.aracteristically  indefinite  basiStv  M  ,  'r  "'"">"el'  sil.ca  has  a 
pounds  of  silicates  of  AlO  or  Fe  O  InT  f""?  ",'  ""r"^''  ""■  '^<'"'- 
(CaO,  .c),  hence  their  gt^^"!,  To'^^^isit":;-;'""'"  °' '™'°"^" 

follwLgtot:'f'ls:i^yi,,g:!;'d\t.-n"^'"   .o.  understand   the 
*■  ^"y"'K  anrt  naming  composition  in  silicates. 


uoite  witL  what  islejror'  rot^o^ii;  i^droT  ron  (F  I,' 

selec  ed  as  to  convert  the  gangue  into  a  fusible   ■■  shi"wl,;h 
readily  runs  down  through  the  fuel  with  the  reL,  1,„  ,J^^'  . 

.ts  reduction  thuS  be  prevented  or  Retarded      S-.^^  the  slag  and 
mightbe  inclined  to  tlfink,  rnLssaryevil    if  f  X  T  "">  ''%'"" 

little  tenden'S^o^Sistire^baJc'^xd^'^.rra: limbic      V'°^l  ' 

fui  of  b  'si  Vu^s  [rr't^  "^"^  ^^'-^  •"  ''^ "-  ■"-'  p""- 


The  names  are  the  metalluigic  ones  ■  scicntin,-,>li»„.i=.    i    •       . 

i^^/:M£i.^i2^ni'^^^,-?---:-;i,i;a^r^ 

silicate  asafunction  of  ^,i,andof  the  natureoftheindividualbases 


t.kingsio,.„Meo,;h;;tran:e:n  r-^^i-^kie  j^';::;:^ 

LToIm.""-"  P''.';?"^' ^'"S.  "  ""-St  have  tie  proper  value  '  Un 

and  Its  meta    (iron  in  our  examnle)  contaminate  the  regulus      In 

ox^^es"of    r  *  '=  ^,™"""  ""''"  ^'»"'^^'°"-  "  '»  -°^"'  »°t  '  g  that 
oxides  of  lead  and  copper  are  more  readily  reduced  to  metals  than  1 
o^doof  uo»  Fe,0,  is  to  FeO,  the  latter  more  readily  Jo  FcO  {ban  1 


sill;Iteat2"5V      "'"'   ""  "■'""™"=  "^"^  ="  2100- C.!Te  b?: 

sn|s^^utr;^^Xeutirji.^t  '"-^"'-^  -^  -^ 

regr  tS::^^^::^::,';:^ -i^^^^'^'o  t..i,icate  is  ydow  or 

I  i.J.,ij ,."  ,1.5  c.,0  '^^  '*""'  <'-i.-'>.  ao  b,i„g  .]„^ 

;  iX"i;r;,:'!,rJi.7.'',".c '"""'■'' '"■•'*''"'='■"•■ 

caii!i\:[::^v?onr!hrof'ti:rcrp°L',rt:  Tn"'"  ^"-'^  """<>'  •»■ 

than  cither  of  the  latter    «-o      In,  ,?^'    .'".'"""y  "^"  i'  is  lower 
.^.Ueatcs.se,-l\?:^leat^^l°^^-^-^-:^^. 

ti.silicate  combinations  melt  hrgr^yVlassc"  "riL"  e'h  "f  ll' 
lime,  and  so,  in  a  more  limited  sense   do  feiVj*^?'"  ""'  ''•" 

r:T"trc^rthe'!n"e™t-  -"'^^  t°  >-'  do„"f  ii'r  „r. 

■  t,    nenr^^the^meantim^^  metal^^urgist   has,  for  hia 
'  Fcir  slips  contain  more  lion  traces  of  .tkuUcj. 


M  E  T  —  M  E  T 


63 


coiSnnce,  to  rely  on  the  very  nameroiis  analyses  which  have  been 
made  of  slags  actually  produced  (by  the  rule  of  thumb)  in  successful 
metiUurgical  operations.  For  some  of  such  slags  also  Plattner  has 
determined  the  fusing  points  He  found  for  (1)  Freiberg  lead  slag, 
^KO,  3alO,  8SiOj  ;  oxygen-ratio,  3:4;  melting-point  at  1317°  C. ; 
(2)  Freiberg  crude  slag,  15R0,  3aI0,  ISSiOj ;  oxygen-ratio,  1 : 1  j 
melting-point  at  1331°  C.  ;  (3)  Freiberg  black-copper  slag,  24FeO, 
AljOj,  ISSiO, ;  oxygen-ratio,  9:10;  melting-point  at  1338°  C. ; 
(4)  High-fiirnace  slag,  6CaO,  3alO,  OSiO,;  oxygenr ratio,  1:1; 
melting-point  at  1431   C 

Jlelalliirgic  Assaying. — To  assay  an  ore  originally  meant  to 
execute  a  set  of  tentative  experiments  on  a  small  scale  in  order  to 
find  out  the  proper  mode  of  working  it  practically.  But  nowadays 
the  term  is  always  used  in  the  sense  of  an  analysis  carried  out  to 
determine  thT)  money -value  of  an  ore.  For  this  purpose,  in  many 
cases  it  is  sufficient  to  determine  the  percentages  of  the  metals  for 
which  the  ore  is  meant  to  be  worked.  But  sometimes  nothing 
short  of  a  complete  analysis  will  do.  This  holds  more  especially  of 
ores  of  iron.  As  this  metal  is  cheap,  the  value  of  an  ore  containing 
it  depends  as  much  on  the  nature  and  relative  quantities  of  the  im- 
purities as  on  the  percentage  of  metal.  The  proved  absence  of  sulphur 
and  phosphorus  may  be  worth  more  than  an  additional  5  per  cent, 
of  iron,  which  latter  again  woulil  perhaps  not  compensate  for  ths 


proved  presence  of  a  large  percentage  of  uncombined  silica. 

An  assay  to  be  of  any  value  must  start  with  a  fair  samph 
object  of  sale.     The  fulfilment  of  this  condition   in   all  < 


dinicult.  The  general  method  is,  from  say  a  given  ship  load  of  ore, 
to  take  out  (say)  half  a  ton  of  ore  from  a  large  number  of  different 
places  and  to  crush  this  large  sample  into  small  fragments  of  uniform 
size,  which  are  well  shovelled  up  together.  From  different  parts  of 
this  6re-heap  a  sample  of  the  secoml  order — amounting  to,  say,  20 
lb — is  then  drawn,  and  rendered  more  homogeneous  by  finer  powder- 
ing and  mixing.  From  this  sample  of  the  second  (or  perhaps  from 
one  of  the  third)  order  quantities  of  1  or  2  lb  are  bottlecf  ujx  for 
assaying.  At  the  same  time  the  moisture  of  the  ore  is  determined, 
on  a  large  scale,  by  some  conventional  method,  such  as  the  drying  of 
1  or  2  lb  in  an  open  basin  at  100°  C,  and  weighing  of  the  residue  as 
dry  oi"e.  This  is  done  at  the  sampling  place  by  the  lirms  concerned. 
The  assayer  further  pounds  up  and  mLxes  his  sample,  and  then  pro- 
^ceeds  to  determine  the  percentages  of  moisture  and  metal  in  his  own 
■way.  He  has  always  the  choice  between  two  methods,  the  dry  and 
the  wet.  For  the  majority  of  gold  or  silver  ores,  and  for  cobalt  and 
nickel  ores  almost  as  a  rule,  certain  dry-process  tests  are  preferred 
as  the  most  exact  analytically.  In  almost  all  other  cases  it  may  be 
said  that  the  wet  method  is  susceptible  of  the  higher  degree  of  pre- 
■cision,  yet  even  in  some  of  these  cases  the  old  dry-process  tests  are 
preferred  to  the  present  day.  For  instance,  all  copper  ores  in  the 
British  Isles  are  sold  by  the  result  of  the  Swansea  assay,  a  kind 
of  imitation  of  the  process  of  sulphureous  copper-ore  smelting;  and 
this,  singularly,  is  adhered  to  even  in  the  case  of  such  cupriferous 
materials  as  are  worked  by  the  wet  way,  although  the  Swansea 
assay  is  well  known  to  lose  about  1  per  cent,  of  the  copper  present. 
A  copper-smelter  therefore  had  better  buy  5  per  cent,  than  10  per 
cent,  copper-pyrites  cinders,  because  in  the  first  case  he  pays  only 
for  four-fifths,  while  in  the  latter  he  must  pay  for  nine-tenths  of 
the  copper  present  To  compensate  for  this  anomaly,  empirical 
■methods  have  been  contrived  for  calculating  prices.  (W.  D.) 

METALS.  The  earliest  evidence  of  a  knowledge  and 
use  of  metals  is  found  in  the  prehistoric  implements  of 
the  so-caUed  Bronze  and  Iron  ages.  In  the  earliest  periods 
•  of  written  history,  however,  we  meet  with  a  number  of 
metals  in  addition  to  these  two.  The  Old  Testament 
mentions  six  metals — gold,  silver,  copper,  iron,  tin,  and 
lead.  The  Greeks,  in  addition  to  these  and  to  bronze, 
came  also  to  know  mercury ;  and  the  same  set  of  metals, 
without  additions,  forms  the  list  of  the  Arabian  chemists 
of  the  8th  and  of  the  Western  chemists  of  the  13th  cen- 
tury. During  the  15th  century  Basilius  Valentinus  dis- 
covered antimony ;  he  also  speaks  of  zinc  and  bismuth, 
but  their  individuality!  was  established  only  at  a  later  period. 
About  1730-40  the  Swede  Brand  discovered  arsenic  and 
cobalt  (the  former  is  not  reckoned  a  metal  by  modern 
chemists),  while  the  Englishman  Ward  recognized  the 
individuality  of  platinum.  Nickel  was  discovered  in  1774 
by  Cronstedt,  manganese  in  1774  by  Scheele.  The 
brothers  D'EIhujart,  in  1783,  prepared  tungsten;  Hjelm, 
ixi  1752,  isolated  molybdenum  from  molybdic  oxide,  where 


•  For  further  information  on  slags,  see  Berthier,  Traite  des  essais  par 
"  :'Pi»  seche ;  Winkler,  Er/ahrunyssatze  iiber  die  Bildung  der 
'x.i\'''-^:c,i,  Freiberg,  1827  ;  Plattner,  Vorlesungm  iiber  allgemeine 
!.:!:^;:'-'"uie,  >.2B  fg.i  Percjj  Metallurgy, 


its  existence  had  been  conjecturally  asserted  by  Bergmann 
in^l781.  .©Uranium,  as  a  new  element,  was  discovered  by 
Klaprothin  1789  ;  but  his  metallic  "uranium,"  after  having 
been  accepted  as  a  metal  by  all  chemists  until  1841,  was 
then  recognized  as  an  oxide  by  Pdligot,  who  subsequently 
isolated  the  true  metal.  Tellurium  was  discovered  by  MiiUet 
von  Eeichenbach  in  1782  (again  by  Klaproth  in  1798); 
titanium,  by  Klaproth  in  1795  ;  chromium,  by  Vauquelin 
in  1797 ;  tantalum,  by  Hatchett  in  1801,  and  by  Ekeberg 
in  1802.  Palladium,  rhodium,  iridium,  and  osmium 
(which  four  metals  always  accompany  platinum  in  its  ores) 
were  discovered,  the  first  two  by  Wollaston  in  1803,  the 
other  two  by  a  number  of  chemists ;  but  their  peculiarity 
was  established  chiefly  by  Smithson  Tennant. 

After  Davy,  in  1807  and  1808,  had  recognized  the 
alkalies  and  alkaline  earths  as  metallic  oxides,  the  existence 
of  metals  in  all  basic  earths  became  a  foregone  conclusion, 
which  was  verified  sooner  or  later  in  all  cases.  But  the 
discovery  of  aluminium  by  Wohler  in  1828,  and  that  of 
magnesium  by  Bussy  in  1829,  claim  special  mention. 
Cadmium,  a  by  no  means  rare  heavy  metal,  was  discovered 
only  In  1818;  by  Stromeyer. 

Of  the  large  number  of  discoveries  of  rare  metals  which 
have  been  made  in  more  recent  times  only  a  few  can  be 
mentioned,  as  marking  new  departures  in  research  or  offer- 
ing other  special  points  of  interest.  In  1861  Bunsen  and 
Kirchhoff,  by  means  of  the  method  of  spectrum  analysis, 
which  they  had  worked  out  shortly  before,  discovered  two 
new  alkali-metals  which  they  called  caesium  and  rubidium.' 
By  means  of  the  same  method  Crookes,  in  1861,  discovered 
thallium;  Keich  and  Richter,  in  1863,  indium;  and  Lecoq 
de  Boisbaudran,  in  1875,  gallium.  The  existence  of  the 
last-named  metal  had  been  maintained,  theoretically,  by 
Mendelejeff,  as  early  as  1871.  The  existence  of  vanadium 
was  proved  in  1830  by  Sefstrbm;  but  what  he,  and  sub- 
sequently Berzelius,  looked  upon  as  the  element  was,  in 
1867,  proved  to  be  really  an  oxide  by  Eoscoe,  who  also 
succeeded  in  isolating  the  true  metal. 

The  development  of  earlier  notions  on  the  constitution 
of  metals  and  their  genetic  relation  to  one  another  forms 
the  most  interesting  chapter  in  the  histoiy  of  chemistry 
(see  Axchemy).  What  modern  science  has  to  say  on  tie 
matter  is  easily  stated  :  all  metals  properly  so  called  (i.e., 
all  metals  not  alloys)  are  elementary  substances;  hence, 
chemically  speaking,  they  are  not  "  constituted  "  at  all,  and 
no  two  can  be  related  to  each  other  genetically  in  any  way 
whatever.  Our  scientific  instinct  shrinks  from  embracing 
this  proposition  as  final ;  but  in  the  meantime  it  must  be 
accepted  as  correctly  formulating  our  ignorance  on  the 
subject.  All  metallic  elements  agree  in  this  that  they  form 
each  at  least  one  basic  oxide,  or,  what  comes  to  the  same 
thing,  one  chloride,  stable  in  opposition  to  liquid  water. 
This  at  once  suggests  an  obvious  definition  of  metals  as  a 
class  of  substances,  but  the  definition  would  be  highly 
artificial  and  objectionable  on  principle,  because  when  we 
speak  of  metal3  we  think,  not  of  their  accidental  chemical 
relations,  but  of  a  certain  sum  of  mechanical  and  physical 
properties  which  unites  them  all  into  one  natural  family. 
What  these  properties  are  wo  shall  now  endeavour  to 
explain. 

AU  metals,  when  exposed  in  an  inert  atmosphere  to  a 
sufficient  temperature,  as.'.ume  the  form  of  liquids,  which 
all  present  the  following  characteristic  properties.  They 
are  (at  least  practically)  non-transparent ;  they  reflect  ligljj; 
in  a  peculiar  manner,  producing  what  is  called  "  metallic 
lustre."  When  kept  in  non-metallic  vessels  they  take  tke 
shape  of  a  convex  meniscus.  These  liquids,  when  exposeu 
to  higher  temperatures,  some  sooner  others  later,  pass  into 
vapours.  What  these  vapours  are  like  is  not  known  in 
jnan;r  cases,  since,  as  a  rak,  they  can.be  produced  only  at 


64 


METALS 


vei-y  high  temperatures,  i^recluding  the  use  of  transparent 
vessels.  Silver  vapour  is  blue,  potassium  vapour  is  green, 
many  otlicrs  (mercury  vapour,  for  instance)  are  colourless. 
The  liciiiid  metals,  when  cooled  down  sufficiently,  some  at 
lower  others  at  higher  teiiiperatures,  freeze  into  compact 
solids,  endojTCd-'with  the  (relative)  uon-trans])arency  and 
the  lustre  of  their  liquids.  These  frozeii  metals  in  general 
form  compact  masses  consisting  of  aggregates  of  crystals 
belonging  to  the  regular  or  rhombic  or  (more  rarely)  the 
quadratic  system.  But  in  many  cases  the  crystals  are  so 
closely  packed  as  to  produce  an  apparent  absence  of  all 
structure.  Compared  with  non-metallic  solids,  they  in 
general  are  good  conductors  of  heat  and  of  electricity. 
But  their  most  characteristic,  though  not  perhaps  their 
most  general,  property  is  that  they  combine  in  themselves 
the  apparently  incompatible  properties  of  elasticity  and 
ligidity  on  the  one  hand  and  plasticity  on  the  other.  Xo 
this  remarkable  combination  ot  jiroperties  more  than  to 
anything  else  the  ordiiiary  metals  owe  their  wide  applica- 
tion in  the  mechanical  arts.  In  former  times  a  high 
specific  gravity  used  to  be  quoted  as  one  of  the  characters 
of  the  genus ;  but  this  no  longer  holds,  since  w:e  have  come 
to  know  of.  a  whole  series  of  metals  which  float  on  water. 
Let  us  now  proceed  to  see  to  what  degree  the  mechanical 
and  physical  properties  of  the  genus  are  developed  in  the 
several  individual  metals. 

Kon-Trdnsparenctj. — This,  in  the  case  of  even  the.  solid 
metals,  is  perhaps  only  a  very  low  degree  of  transparency. 
In  regard  to  gold  this  has  been  proved  to  be  so  ;  gold  leaf, 
or  thin  films  of  gold  produced  chemically  on  glass  plates, 
transmit  light  with  a  green  colour.  On  the  other  hand, 
those  infinitely  thin  films  of  silver  which  can  be  produced 
chemically  on  glass  surfaces  are  absolutely  opaque.  Very 
thin  films  of  liquid  mercury,  according  to  Melsens,  transmit 
light  with  a  violet- blue  colour ;  also  thin  films  of  copper 
are  said  to  be  translucent.  Other  metals,  so  far  as  we 
know,  have  not  been  more  exactly  investigated  in  this 
direction. 

Colour. — Gold  is  yellow ;  copper  is  red  ;  silver,  tin,  and 
!-ome  others  are  pure  white;  the  majority  exhibit  some 
modification  or  other  of  grey. 

Bejlexion  of-  Light. — Polished  metallic  surfaces,  like 
those  of  other  solids,  divide  any  incident  ray  into  two 
)iarts,  of  which  one  is  refracted  while  the  other  is  reflected, — ■ 
with  this  difference,  however,  that  the  former  is  completely 
absorbed,  and  that  the  latter,  in  regard  to  polarization,  is 
quite  differently  affected.'  The  degree  of  absorption  is 
different  for  different  metals.  According  to  Jamin,  the 
remaining  intensity,  after  one  and  ten  successive  perpen- 
dicular •  reflexions  respectively  from  the  metal-mirrors 
named,  is  as  follows  (original  intensity  =  1)  : — 


1        s„... 

Speculu 
1  R. 

n  JIcL-il. 
10  R. 

Steel. 

]  R. 

10  R. 

IR. 

10  R. 

ReU 

•!i29 

•■178 

•692 

•035 

•609 

•007 

Yellow 

•905 

•ang 

•632 

•010 

•699 

•006 

Violet 

•867 

•242 

•599 

•006 

•599 

•006 

This  shows  the  great  superiority  of  silver  as  a  reflecting 
medium,  especially  in  the  case  of  repeated  reflexion. 

Crystalline  Form. — Most  (perhaps  all)  metals  are  capable 
of  crystaUization,  and  in  most  cases  isolated  crystals  can  bo 
produced  by  judiciously  managed  partial  freezing.  The 
crystals  belong  to  the  following  systems  : — regular  sydem 
— silver,  gold,  palladium,  mercury,  copper,  iron,  lead ; 
quadratic  system — tin,  potassium  ;  rhombic  system — anti- 
mony, bismuth,  tellurium,  zinc,  magnesium. 

Structure. — Perhaps  all  metals,  in  the  shape  which  they 
ass\ime   in    freezing,  are  crystalline,  only  the   degree    of 

, '  Tliis  ra.^y  be  the  cause  of  the  peculiarity  of  metallic  lustre. 


visibility  of  the  crystalline  arrangement  is  very  different 
in  different  metals,  and  even  in  the  same  metal  varies 
according  to  the  slowness  of  solidification  and  othei- 
circumstances. 

Of  the  ordinary  metals,  antimony,  bismuth,  and  zinc 
may  be  mentioned  as  exhibiting  a  very  distinct  crystalline 
structure :  a  bar-shaped  ingot  readily  breaks,  and  the 
crystal  faces  are  distinctly  visible  on  the  fracture.  Tin 
also  is  crystalline :  a  thin  bar,  when  bent,  "  creaks " 
audibly  from  the  sliding  of  the  crystal  faces  over  one 
another ;  but  the  bar  is  not  easily  broken,  and  exhibits  an 
apparently  •non-crj'stalline  fracture. — Class  I. 

Gold,  silver,  copper,  lead,  aluminium,  cadmium,  iron 
(pure),  nickel,  and  cobalt  are  practically  amorphous,  the 
crystals  (where  they  exist)  being  so  closely  packed  as  to 
produce  a  virtually  homogeneous  mass. — Class  II. 

The  great  contrast  in  apparent  structure  between  cooled 
ingots  of  Class  I.  and  of  Class  II.  appears,  however,  to  hz 
owingchiefly  to  the  fact  that,  while  the  lattercrystallize  iutha 
regular  system,  metals  of  Class  I.  form  rhombic  or  quadratic 
crystals.  Kegular  crystals  expand  equally  in'all  directions; 
rhombic  and  quadratic  ores  expand  differently  in  different 
directions.  Hence,  supposing  the  crystals  immediately 
after  their  formation  to  be  in  absolute  contact  with  ono 
another  all  round,  then,  in  the  case  of  Class  II.,  such  con- 
tact will  be  maintained  on  cooling,  while  in  the  case  of 
Class  I.  the  contraction  along  a  given  straight  \[u&  will  iu 
general  have  different  values  in  any  two  neighbouring 
crystals,  and  the  crystals  consequently  become,  however 
slightly,  detached  from  one  another.  The  crystalline 
structure  which  exists  on  both  sides  becomes  ^^sible  only 
in  the  metals  of  the  first  class,  and  only  there  manifests 
itself  as  brittlenes.?. 

Closely  related  to  the  stiucture  of  metals  is  tlieir  acgrce- 
of  "  pksticity "  (susceptibility  of  being  constrained  into- 
new  forms  without  breach  of  continuity).  This  term  of 
course  includes  a-s  special  cases  the  qualities  of  "  inallo- 
atility "  (capability  of  being  flattened  out  under  the- 
hammer)  and  "  ductility  "  (capability  of  being  drawn,  into- 
wire) ;  but  it  is  well  at  once  to  point  out  that  these  two 
special  qualities  do  not  always  go  parallel  to  each  other, 
for  this  reason  amongst  others  that  duciihty  in  a  higher 
degree  than  Malleability  is  determined  oy  the  tenacity  of 
a  metal.  Hence  tin  and  lead,  though  very  malleable,  are 
little  ductile.  The  quality  of  plasticity  is  developed  ta 
very  different  degrees  in  different  metals,  and  even  in  the 
same  species  it  depends  on  temperature,  and  may  be 
modified  by  mechanical  or  physical  operations.  A  bar  of 
zinc,  for  instance,  as  obtained  by  casting,  is  very  brittle; 
but  when  heated  to  100°  or  150°  C.  it  becomes  sufficiently 
plastic  to  be  rolled  into  the  thinnest  sheet  or  to  be  drawn 
into  wire.  Such  sheet  or  wire  then  remains  flexible  after 
cooling,  the  originally  only  loosely  coliering  crystals  having 
got  intertwisted  and  forced  into  absolute  contact  with  one 
another, — an  explanation  supported  by  the  fact  that  rolled 
zinc  has  a  somewhat  higher  specific  gravity  (7"2)  than  the 
original  ingot  (0^9).  The -same  metal,  when  heated  to 
205°  C,  becomes  so  brittle  that  it  can  be  ])Owdcred  in  a 
mortar.  Pure  iron,  copper,  silver,  and  other  metnbi  are 
easily  drawn  into  wire,  or  rolled  into  sheet,  or  flattened 
under  the  hammer.  But  all  these  operations  render  the 
metals  harder,  and  detract  from  their  plasticity.  Their 
original  softness  can  be  restored  to  them  by  "annealing," 
i.e.,  by  heating  them  to  redness  and  then  quenching  them 
in  cold  water.  In  the  case  of  iron,  however,  this  applies 
only  if  the  metal  is  perfectly  pure.  If  it  contains  a  few 
])arts  of  carbon  per  thousand,  the  annealing  process,  instead 
of  softening  the  metal,  g  ves  it  a  "  temper,"  meaning  a 
higher  degree  of  hardness  Mid  elasticity  (see  below). 

What  we  have  called  plasticity  must  not  be  mixed  up 


METALS 


65 


VitlT'thTlaotion  ot  softness,  which  means  the  degree  of 
facility  with  which  the  plasticity  of  a  metal  can  be  dis- 
counted. Thus  lead  is  far  softer  than  silver,  and  yet  the 
latter  is  by  far  the  more  plastic  of  the  two.  The  now 
famous  experiments  of  Tresca  {Comptes  Sendus,  lix.  754) 
show  that  the  plasticity  of  certain  metals  at  least  goes 
considerably  farther  than  had  before  been  supposed.  He 
operated,  with  lead,  copper,  silver,  iron,  and  some  other 
metals.  Round  disks  made  of  these  substances  were 
placed  in  a  closely  fitting  cylindrical  cavity  drilled  in 
a  block  of  steel,  the  cavity  having  a  circuiar  aperture 
of  two  or  four  centimetres  below.  By  means  of  an 
hydraulic  press,  applied  to  a  superimposed  piston,  a 
pressure  of  100,000  kilos  was  made  to  act  upon  the  disks, 
when  the  metal  was  seen  to  "  flow  "  out  of  tie  hole  like  a 
viscid  liquid.  In  spite  of  the  immense  rearrangement  of 
parts  there  was  no  breach  of  continuity.  What  came  out 
below  was  a  compact  cylinder  with^  a  rounded  bottom, 
consisting  of  so  many  layers  superimposed  upon  one 
another.  Parallel  experiments  with  layers  of  dough  or 
sand  plus  some  ^.connecting  material  proved  that  the 
particles  in  all  cases  moved  along  the  same  tracks  as 
would  be  followed  by  a  flowmg  cylinder  of  liquid.  Of  the 
better  known  metals  potassium  and  Sodium  are  the  softest; 
they  can  be  kneaded  between  the  fingers  like  wax.  AfteV 
these  follow  first  thallium  aild  then  lead,  the  latter  being 
the  softest  of  the  metals  used  in  the.arts.  Among  these 
the  softness  decreases  in  about  the  following  order  : — lead, 
pure  silver,  pure  gold,  tin,  copper,  aluminium,  platinum, 
pure  iron.  As  liquidity  might  be  looked  upon  as  the  ne 
plus  ultra  of  softness,  this  is  the  right  place  for  stating 
that,  while  most  metals,  when  heated  up  to  their  melting 
points,  pass  pretty  abruptly  from  the  solid  to  the  liquid 
state,  platinum  and  iron  first  assume,  and  throughout  a 
long  range  of  temperatures  retain,  a  condition  of  viscous 
semi-solidity  which  enables  two  pieces  of  them  to  be 
"  welded  "  together  by  pressure  into  one  continuous  mass. 
Potassium  Und  sodium  might  probably  be  welded  if  their 
surfaces  could  be  kept  clear  of  oxide. 

According  to  Prechtl,  the  ordinary  metals,  in  regard  to 

the  degree  of  facility  or  perfection  with  which  they  can  be 

hammered   flat   on   the   anvil,  rolled   out  into  sheet,  or 

drawn  into  wire,  form  the  following  descending  series : — 

Bammering.         Rolling  into  Sheet.         Drawing  into  Wire. 

Lead.  Gold.  Platinum. 

Tin.  Silver.  Silver. 

Gold.'  Copper.  ,  Iron. 

Zinc.  Tin.  Copper. 

Silver.  Lead  Goli 

Copper.  Zinc.  Zinc. 

Flatinam.  Platinnm.  Tin: 

Iron.  Iron.  Lead. 

To  give  an  idea  of  what  can  be  done  in  this  way,  it  may 
be  stated  that  gold  can  be  beaten  out  to  leaf  of  the  thick- 
ness of  3g^oa  mm.;  and  that  platinum,  by  judicious  work, 
can  be  dirawn  into  wire  ^10^0,^  mm.  thick. 

By  the  hardness  of  a  metal  we  mean  the  resistance 
which  it  offers  to  the  file  or  to  the  engraver's  tooL  Taking 
it  in  this  sense,  it  does  not  necessarily  measure,  e.g.,  the 
resistance  of  a  metal  to  abrasion  by  friction.  Thus,  for 
mstance,  10  per  cent,  aluminium  bronze  is  scratched  by  an 
edge-tool  made  of  ordinary  steel  as  used  for  knife-blades. 
And  yet  it  has  been  found  that  the  sets  of  needles  used 
for  perforating  postage  stamps  last  longer  if  made  of 
'aluminium  bronze  than  they  do  it  made  of  steel 
'  Elasticity.  —All  metals  are  elastic  to  this  extent  that  a  change  of 
form,  brought  aboat  by  stresses  not  exceeding  certain  limit  values, 
will  disappear  on  the  stress  being  removed.  Strains  exceeding  the 
,"  limit  of  elasticity  "  result  in  permanent  deformation  or  (if  suffi- 
ciently great)  in  rupture.  Where  this  limit  lies  is  in  no  case  pre- 
cisely known.  According  to  Wertbeim*  (who  has  done  more  for 
ocr  knowledge  of  the  subject  than  any  one  else)  and  Hodgkinson, 


Annalet  de  Chimie  tt  de  PTiyiigw 

16-5 


the  real  law  seems  to  be  pretty  much  as  indicated  by  the  two  curves 
on  the  accompanying  diagram,  where,  in  reference  to  a  metallic 
T\-ire,  stretched  by  an  ajppended  weight,  the  abscissa  always  means 
the  numerical  value  P  of  the  weight,  the  ordinate  of  the  upper  curve 
the  total  elonga- 
tion caused  by  P,  Y 
theordinateofthe 
lower  curve  that 
part  of  the  elong- 
ation which  re- 
mains when  P  is 
removed,  so  that 
the  piece  of  the 
ordinate  between 
the  two  curves 
gives  the  tempor- 
ary ("elastic")  ex- 
pansion. From 
P-0     np    to    a 

somewhat   indefi-  _ 

nite  point(«  or  A)  "  *»        — 

both  curves  are  nearly  straight  lines,  the  lower  almost  coinciding  in 
its  beginning  with  the  axis  of  abscissae  ;  from  that  point  onwards 
these  two  curves  approach  each  other,  ami  at  a  short  distance  from 
the  point  of  rupture  they  rapidly  converge  towards  intersection.  For 
any  value  of  P  which  lies  fairly  on  the  safe  side  of  A,  we  have  ap- 
proximately 

9 

where  X  means  the  elastic  (or  substantially  the  total)  expansion,  I 
the  length,  and  j'the  square  section  of  the  wire  or  cylindrical  bar 
operated  upon.  The  reciprocal  of  «(viz.  E  =  l/c)  is  called  the 
"modulus  of  elasticity. " 

iVertheim  has  determined  this  constant  for  a  large  number  of 
metals  and  alloys.  He  used  three  methods :  one  was  to  measure  the 
elongations  produced,  in  a  wire  of  given  dimensions,  by  a  succession 
of  charges ;  the  other  two  consisted  in  causing  a  measured  bar  to 
give  ona  musical  note  by  (a)  longitudinal  and  (6)  transversal  vibra- 
tion, and  counting  the  vibrations  per  second.  The  following  table 
gives  some  of  his  results.  Column  2  gives  the  constant  E  for 
millimetre  and  kilogramme.  Hence  1000/E  is  the  elongation  in 
millimetres  per  metre  length  per  kilo.  Column  3  shows  the  charge 
causing  a  permanent  elongation  of  0'05  mm.  per  metre, — which, 
for  practical  purposes,  he  takes  as  giving  the  limit  of  elasticity; 
column  4  gives  the  breaking  strain.  Values  of  E  in  square 
brackets  [  ]  are  derived  from  vibration  experiments;  the  rest 
from  direct  measurements  of  elongations.  Numbers  in  round 
brackets  (  i  do  not  necessarily  refer  to  the  same  specimen  as  the 
other  data. 


For  Wire  of  1  Square  ram. 

SectioT),  Weight  (in 

Nam*. 

E. 

Kilos) 

caubing 

PennaiieDt 

EIODgatioD 

Breakage. 

of  irfj.- 

Lead,  drawn „ „.. 

1,803 

e-25 

21 

1,727 

1-8 

f5;q 

(2-45) 

„    annealed »....„.. 

0-20 

[5,757] 

2-24 

[4,777] 
8,132 

13-5 

27 

,,     annealed « 

6,585 

3-0 

10 

7,358 
7,141 

11-3 
2-6 

29 
16 

„     .annealed , « 

9,021 

Zinc,  ordinary,  drawn- ._ 

8,785 

0-75 

13 

„           „         annealed. « 

[9,467] 

100 

PoUadium,  draw-n - 

18 

9,789 

Qiiijer5 

27 

Copper,  draw-n „ , „.... 

12,449 

12 

40 

,     10,619 
17,0M 
16,518 
16,987 
16,623 

under  8 

(26) 

04) 

80 
S4 

Platinam  wire,  medluin  thickness, ) 

28 

Iron,*  drawn «.« 

20,869 

S3 

20,7M 

under  6 

jx61 

Nickel.s  drawn „ 

7,040 

Aluminiuni^ „ 

Aluminium  bronze  *„,„,. *.. 

10,700 

BrassO          „. 

8,543 

10,788 

The  above  numbers  may  be  assumed  to  hold  for  temperatures  from 
15**  to  20°  C.  Wcrtheim  executed  determinations  also  at  other  teni- 
peratures;  but,  as  his  numbers  do  not  appear  to  reveal  the  true 

2  From  Do  Brery.  *  Approximate,  by  H.  St  Clalr  DevtMe. 

♦  From  deflexion  o(  hammered  bar  of  6  mm.  tWcknesa,  charjped  in  the  middle  * 
determined  by  W.  Dlttmar.  * 

»  Composition,  ZoCu,  (Werthelm).        <  CoiDp<teItlon,  Zh^CouNhj  {Wcrtheim;^ 


6e 


METALS 


relationa  between  E  and  temperature,  we  quote  tie  results  of 
^ohlransch  and  Loomis,  who  found  the  following  rf  Litions  between 
the  modulua  E,  for  0°  C.  and  the  value  Ei  for  +  C  C,  :^ — 

Iron:  Ei=£|,(l--000483l--00000()l?l'). 
Copper :  E(  =Eo(l  -  •  0O0-'i72  *- '00000028/2). 
.Braas:     E(  =  Efl(l--00O4S5 /--OOOOOiae^. 

Thus,  for  these  thieo  metals  at  least,  the  value  of  E  diminishes, 
when  temperature  increases,  at  pretty  much  the  same  rate  per 
Ue-gree  of  temperature, 

_  Specific  OravUij.— This  varies  iu  metals  from  -664  (lithium)  to 
^2*48  (osmium),  and  in  one  and  the  same  species  is  a  function 
pf  temperature  and  of  previous  physical^  ana  mechanical  treat- 
cient.  It  has  in  general  one  value  for  the  powdery  metal  as 
pbtained  by  reduction  of  the  oxide  in  hydrogen  below  the  melting 
Jroiut  of  the  metal,  another  for  the  metal  in  the  state  which 
It  assumes  spontaaeously  on  freezing,  and  this  latter  value  agafn, 
in  geueral,  is  modified  by  hammering,  rolling,  or  wire-drawing,  &c. 
These  mechanical  operations  do  not  necessarily  add  to  the  density  ; 
ftamping,  it  is  true,  does  so  necessarily,  but  rolling  or  drawing 
occasioually  causes  a  diminution  of  the  density.  Thus,  for 
instance,  chemically  pure  iron  in  the  ingot  has  the  specific  gravity 
i7-84J  ;  when  it  is  rolled  out  into  thin  sheet,  the  value  falls  to 
|7-6  ;  when  drawn  into  thin  wire,  to  775  (Berzelius).  The  follow, 
ing  table  gives  the  specific  gravities  of  all  metals  (except  a  few 
Tery_rare  ones)  according  to  the  most  trustworthy  modern  de- 
jtermiiations.  Where  special  statements  are  not  made,  the  numbers 
t)iay  bo  assumed  to  hold  for  the  ordinary  temperature  (16°  to  17°  or 
^0°C. ),  referred  to  water  of  the  same  tempei-ature  (specific  gravity 
f=  1)  as  a  standard,  and  to  hold  for  the  natural  frozen  metal, 

'  NamA  ftf  lU,.tnt 


strontium 

Aluminium,  pure,  Ingot 

Ahimliilum,  ordinary,  liammcred 


Gallium 

Lanthanum.. 
Didymium... 

Cerium 

Antimony,.., 
Chromium ... 
Zinc,  incot... 
„  rolled  o 
Mmiganese.. 
Tin,. 


crystallised  by  galvanic  cur 

rentftdm  solutions 

Indium 

Iron,  cliemlcally  pure,  ingot...., 

„     thin  sheet 

„     wrdught,  high  quality 

Klckel,  ingot 

Cadmium,  insot 

Iiammered 

Cobalt , 

Uolybdenum,  containing  4  to  I 


per  cent. 
Copper,  natlvi 


liismuth,, 
■iilve 


stamped 

Leiid,  very  slowly  frozen 

',,     qnlcitly  dozen  In  cold  watt 

Palladium 

Vhaillum 

Rhodium 

HutVnium 

ilercury,  Uiuld 

„         solid 

Tungsten,  couipact,  by  tlj  iiom 

chioildo  vupour 

„  as  reduced  by  hydro- 
gen, powder -. 

Uranium.. 


Guid,  Ingot 

,,      stamped 

,,     powdler,  precipitated    by 

ferroQs  sulphate 

Platlnt 


Specldc  Gravity 


■9735 
1  52 
1-578 
1-743 


5-5 
6-9 
6-163 

(il-2S 

6  715  atl6- 

6-81 

6915 


7-2 


8-04  to  8-95 

8-945 

9-823  at  12' 
104  to  10  6 
10-57 
1 1  -254 
11-363 


14  J9  below— 40' 
16-64 


18-33 

19-505  at  13" 
19-31  to  19  34 


21-46 
22-40 
22477 


Antbority, 


Bunsen  and  Ua'^UieSeD, 


Clarke- 
Troost. 
Itoscoe. 
Lecoq  de  Bolsbaadran. 

Hiliebrandt  and  Norton, 

Marctiand  and  Scheerer. 

Hohler.  ' 

Kariten. 


nicbter. 
Schreder 


Marchand  and  Scheerer, 


WShlcr,  1855, 
Roscoc, 
Pi!ilgcrt,  1868, 
Mattiilesen, 
G,  Rose, 


Deville  and  Dobray,ie;C, 


t  Thermic  Properties. — The  specific  heats  of  most  metals  have  been 
determined  vei-y  carefully  by  Ki-gnaiilt,  The  general  result  is  that, 
conformably  with  Dulong  and  IVtit  s  law,  the  "atomic  heats"  all 
come  to  very  nearly  the  same  value  (of  about  6-4);  i.e.,  atomic 
weight  by  specific  heat -6  4.  Thus  we  have  for  silver  by  tlieoiy 
6-4/108-  -0593,  and  by  experiment  -0570  for^OUo  100°  C. 


The  expansion  by  heat  varies  greatly.  The  following  table  giT^f 
the  linear  expansions  from  0°  to  100° C.  according  tO  Fizcaa  {Complft 
Hendua,  IxviiL  1126),  the  length  at  0"  being  taken  as«nity. 


Name  of  UetaL 

Expansion 
0-  to  lOO-. 

Platlnuqi,  cast ,. «,.„.„.„„ », 

Gold,  ca.t _ _ 

■000  907 
■001  451 
-001  936 
•001  708 
■001  SG9 
■001  !!8 
■001  !oa 
•001  no 

001  C41 

■001  2S9 
■001  874 
■002  269 
■002  948 
■002  905 
-003  102 
.    -002  336 
■001  879 
■001  802 

Copijer,  artifirlal „ «..-.„.... „..,- 

Iron,  soft,  as  u»cd  for  eicctromagncta, ..-• « 

„    reduced  by  hydrogen  and  com)K-e<sed...,»«... 

Cast  steel,  Engllab  annealed _ *..., 

Bismuth,  in  tile  direction  of  the  axis „,.„ 

„        at  right  angles  to  a,'^ls „ „,„ 

„        mean  expansion,  calculated «.«.„ 

Tin.  of  Malacca,  compressed  powder „ 

Bronze  (8C-3  per  cent,  copper  9-7  per  cent  tin,  40  per  cent,  zinc) 

The  coefficient  of  expansion  is  constant  for  such  metals  only  as 
crystallize  in  the  regular  system  ;  the  others  expand  differently 
in  the  directions  of  the  different  axes.  To  eliminate  thi^  source 
of  uncertainty  these  metals  were  employed  as  compressed  powders. 
The  cubical  expansion  of  mercury  from  0*  to  100°  C.  is  -018153 
-nr'TTir  (RegnauU). 

Fusibilitii  and  VolaiiUty. — The  fusibility  in  different  metalfl 
i3  very  different,  as  shown  by  the  following  table,  which, 
besides  including  all  the  fusing  points  (in  degrees  C. )  of  metals 
which  have  been  detennined  numerically,  indicates  those  of  a 
selection  of  other  metals  by  the  positions  assigned  to  them  in  the 
table.  Of  the  temperatures  given,  those  above  (say)  500°  0.  musx 
be  looked  upon  as  rough  approximations. 


Kame  of  MetaL 

Fusing  roint 

Authority. 

Mercury 

-S8-8 
+  26  to  27 

301 

38-5 

62-6 

965 
1800 
176 
228 
264 
290 
320 
825 
425 
415 
413 
625 

700 

1,040 

1,100 

1.100 

1,200 
1.300  to  1,400 

higher 

1.400 

l.COO 

? 

1,600  to  1,600 

st  wind-furnace 
3.000 

2,870 
9  yet  infusible. 

B.  Stewart. 

Sctteiberff. 

L.  de  Uolsbaodran. 

Bunsen. 

V 

nichter(?) 
Rudberg. 

Lamy. 
Ruillicrg. 

renir>n, 
Danicll. 
roiilllet. 

Pouillet. 
Bccqaercl. 

Pouillet. 

Pouillet 

heat.   The  foUowljig 

Cesium ,.._ 

Putasslum „ 

Lithium _ 

Lend „ 

Incipient  Red  Heat „ 

MagncBlHm ., :... 

Aluminium - 

Urunlum ., 

Pnlladlum  Is  barely  fusible  at  the  blghe 
melt  only  lu  the  oxyhydrngcn  flame; — 

A/ax.  Temp,  of  Oiyhydrogen  Flame.... 
Osmium  does  not  melt  at  2,870',  i.e.,  Is  a 

Of   the  volatility  of  metals  we  have    little  precise  knowledge; 
jnly  the  following  boiling  points  are  known  numerically  : — 


Karac  of  MctaL 

BoUUig  PolDt 

Authority.          | 

Mercury ~ 

357-3 

8G0 

1.040 

below  1.040 

above  1.040 

Ripnault. 

Devilk  oDdTroost. 

Dow'orand  Dlr'tmar. 

For  practical  purposes  the  volatility  of  metals  may  bo  stated  as 
tol.ows:- 

1,  Distillable  below  redness:  mercury. 

2,  Di.<tillable  nt  red  heats :  cadmium,  alkali  metals,  zinc,  mag- 
nesium. 

3,  Volatilized  more  or  lesa  readily  when  heated  beyond  thoir 
fusin;;  points  in  ojieu  crueibles :  antimony  (very  rendily),  lead, 
biiiuutb,  tin,  silver.  -  ; 


Huntcn,  Jabtib./.  Chem,  18C7,  f.  41;  PhU.JUaf.,  xlllT.  4 


^ 


M  E  .T  A  L  S 


67 


4.  Barely  so:. gold,  (copper). -^     ,   , 

6.  Practically  Don-volatile  :  (copper),  iron,  nickel,  cobalt^  «lu- 
miniam;  siiso  lithiam,  barium,  strootium,  and  calcium. 
I    In  the  oxybydrogen  flame  silver  boils,  forming  a  blue  vapour, 
while  platinum  volatilizes  slowly,  aod  osmium,  though  infusible, 
very  readily. 

I    Laitnt  Beats  of  lAq^uef action — Of  these  we  know  little.     The  fol- 
lowing numbers  are  due  to  Person — ice,  it  may  be  stated,  being  80. 


HebU. 

Latent 
Heal. 

MctaL 

Latent 
Heat. 

Mercury ..................... 

2-82 
6-37 
12-4 

Cadmium  ._ 

Sflver _ 

Zinc _ 

136 
211 

28-1 

Bismatb ..,»......» 

Of  the  latent  heats  of  vaporization  only  that  of  mercnry  has  been 
determined, — by  Marignac,  who  found  it  to  be  103  to  106  units. 

Conductivity. — Conductivity,  whether  thermic  or  electric,  is  veiy 
differently  developed  in  different  metals  ;  and,  as  an  exact  know- 
ledge of  these  conductivities  is  of  great  scientific  and  practical 
importance,  much  attention  has  been  given  to  their  numerical 
determination.  The  following  are  the  modes'  in  which  the  two 
conductivities  have  been  defined  as  quantities. 

1.  Thermic. — Imagine  one  side  (1)  of  a  metallic  plate,  D  units 
thick,  to  be  kept  at  the  constant  temperature  <„  the  other  (II)  at 
t^  After  a  suiEcient  time  each  point  between  1  and  II  will  be  at 
a  constant  intermediate  temperature,  and  in  every  nnit  of  time  a 
constant  quantity  Q  of  heat  will  pass  from  any  circumscribed  area 
~       1 1,  according  to  the  equation 


,S(£r 


S  00  I  to  the  opposite  area  S 

I  is  called  the  (internal)  conductivity  of  the  metal  the  plate  is 
made  of.  It  is,  strictly  speaking,  a  fonction  of  <,  and  <,;  but 
within  a  given  small  interval  of  temperatures  it  may  be  taken  as  a 
constant. 

2.  Electric. — When  a  given  constant  battery  is  closed  successively 
by  different  wires  of  the  same  sort,  then,  according  to  experience, 
the  strength  I  of  the  current  (as  measured  for  instance  by  the  heat- 
equivaleut  of  the  electricity  flowing  through  the  circuit  in  unit  of 
time)  is  in  accordance  with  the  equation 
A/l=l+rlls  , 
where  1  is  the  length  and  s  the  square  section  of  the  wire,  while  A 
13  a  constant  which,  for  our  purpose,  need  not  be  defined  in  regard 
to  its  physical  meaning;  r  measures  the  specific  resistance  of  the 
particmar  metal.  Supposing  a  certain  silver  vrire  on  the  one  hand 
and  a  certain  copper  wire  on  the  other,  when  substituted  for  each 
other,  to  produce  currents  of  the  same  strength,  we  have 

r,',/.,=r,;,/.,, 
whence 

r,/rj=j,V(<2'i)=i 
where  k  is  the  computed  value  of  the  ratio  on  the  iight-hand  side. 
Hence,  _  taking  r,,  the  resistance  of  copper,  as  unity,  we  have 
r,=A,  i.e.,  k  gives  us  the  specific  resistance  of  silver,  that  of  copper 
being  taken  =  1.  In  this  relative  manner  resistances  are  usually 
measured,  silver  generally  being  taken  os  the  standard  of  compari- 
son. Supposing  the  relative  resistance  of  a  metal  to  be  R,  the  re- 
ciprocal l/R  is  called  its  "electric  conductivity."  For  the  same 
metal  R  varies  with  the  temperature,  the  higher  temperature  cor- 
responding to  the  higher  resistance.  The  following  table  gives  the 
electric  conductivities  of  a  number  of  metals  as  determined  by 
Matthiesen,  and  the  relative  internal  thermic  conductivities  of 
(nominally)  the  same  metals  as  determined  by  Wiedemann  and 
Franz,  with  rods  about  5  mm.  thick,  of  which  one  end  was  kept 
at  100°  C,  the  rest  of  the  rod  in  a  "  vacuum  "  (of  5  mm.  tension) 
at  12°  C.  Matthiesen's  results,  except  in  the  two  cases  noted,  are 
from  his  memoir  in  Fogg.  Ami.,  1858,  ciii.  428. 


Copper,  commerda],  No.  3....^ «... 

No.  2 „ 

,.      chemlcallr  pura,  hard  drawn.. 

Copper \..„ 

Gold,  pure 

n     absolutely  pure „ i 


Pianoforte  wire.. 

Iron  rod. 

Steel 

Lead,  pure 

Platinum 

Gennan  silver .... 

Blsmutli. „... 

Aluminium 

Mercui- 
SUver,  pj 


pbie 


Relative  Conductivities. 


•115    , 

210 

•144    , 

JO- 

■ifrn  , 

173 

•105    , 

20-7 

•0767  , 

18^7 

•0119  , 

13-8 

•106    , 

19-6 

■01C3  , 

22-8 

Going  by  Matthiesen's  old  numbers,  we  iind  them  to  agree  fairly 
with  Wiedemann  and  Franz's  tlievmic  conductivities,  whiih  6iipi>or»» 
an  ob\-ious  and  pretty  generally  received  proposition.  Miitlhic- 
scu's  new  numbers  for  gold  and  copper,  however,  destroy  the  Jm^' 
mony.  j« 

Magiutic  Properties.— hoii,  nickel,  and  cobalt  are  the  onlj 
metals  which  are  attracted  by  the  magnet  and  can  become  magnets 
tliemselves.  But  m  regard  to  their  power  of  retaining  their  mag- 
netism none  of  them  comes  at  all  up  to  the  compound  metal  steel. 
See  Magnetism. 

Chemical  Changes^ 

The  chemical  changes  which  metals  are  liable  to  may  be 
classified  according  to  the  loss  of  metallicity  involved  in 
them.  We  will  adopt  this  principle  and  begin  with  the 
action  of  metals  on  metals,  which,  as  experience  shows,' 
always  leads  to  the  formation  of  truly  metallic  compovmcUt* 

Any  two  or  more  metals  when  mixed  together  in  the 
liquid  state  unite  chemically,  or  at  least  molecularly,  in  this 
sense  that,  although  the  mixture,  on  standing  (hot),  may 
separate  into  layers,  each  layer  is  a  homogeneous  solution  ot 
"  aUoy  "  of,  in  general,  all  the  components  in  one  another.! 
With  binary  combiuations  the  following  two  cases  may 
present  themselves  : — (1)  the  two  metals  mix  permanently 
in  any  proportion ;  or  (2)  either  of  the  two  metals  refuses 
to  take  up  more  than  a  certain  Uniit-proportion  of  the 
other ;  hence  a  random  mixture  of  the  two  metals  will,  in 
general,  part  into  two  layers, — one  a  solution  of  A  in  F,, 
the  other  a  solution  of  B  in  A.  The  first  case  presents 
itself  very  frequently;  it  holds,  for  instance,  for  gold  and 
silver,  gold  and  copper,  copper  and  silver,  lead  and  tin,' 
and  any  alloy  of  these  two  and  bismuth.  Many  other 
cases  might  be  quoted.  A  good  example  of  the  second 
case  is  lead  and  zinc,  either  of  which  dissolves  only  a  very 
small  percentage  of  the  other.  In  the  preparation  of  an 
alloy  we  need  not  start  with  the  components  in  the  liquid 
state;  the  several  metals  need  only  be  heated  together  in 
the  same  crucible  when,  in  general,  the  liquid  of  the  more 
readily  fusible  part  dissolves  the  more  refractory  compo- 
nents at  temperatures  far  below  their  fusing  points.  Molten 
lead,  for  instance,  as  many  a  tyro  in  chemical  analysis  has 
come  to  learn  to  his  cost,  readily  runs  through  a  platinum 
crucible  at  little  more  than  its  own  fusing  point. 

A  homogeneous  liquid  alloy,  when  solidified  suddenly,' 
say  by  pouring  it  drop  by  drop  into  cold  water,  necessarily 
yields  an  equally  homogeneous  solid.  But  it  may  not  be 
so  when  it  is  allowed  to  freeze  gradually.  If,  in  this  case, 
we  allow  the  process  to  go  a  certain  way,  and  then  pour  off 
the  still  liquid  portion,  the  frozen  part  generally  presents 
itself  in  the  shape  of  more  or  less  distinct  crystals;  whether 
this  happens  or  not,  the  rule  is  that  its  composition  differs 
from  that  of  the  mother  liquor,  and  consequently  from  that 
of  the  original  alloy.  This  phenomenon  of  "  liquation,"  as 
it  is  csdled,  is  occasionally  utilized  in  metallurgy  for  the 
approximate  separation  of  metals  from  one  another ; '  but  in 
the  manipulation  of  aUoys  made  to  be  used  as  such  it  may 
prove  very  inconvenient.  It  does  so,  for  instance,  in  the 
case  of  the  copper-silver  alloy  which  our  coins  are  made 
of ;  in  a  large  ingot  of  such  sterling  silver  the  core  juay, 
contain  as  much  as  0'3  per  cent,  of  silver  more  than  the 
outer  shell. 

The  existence  of  crystallized  alloys,  as  the  phenomenon 
of  liquation  generally,  strongly  suggests  the  idea  that . 
alloys  generally  are  mixtures,  not  of  their  elementary  com- 
ponents, but  of  chemical  compounds  of  these  elements  with 
one  another,  associated  possibly  with  uncombined  remnants 
of  these.  This  notion  is  strongly  supported  by  the  fact 
that  the  formation  of  man^  aUoys  involves  an  obvious 
evolution  of  heat  and  a  derfded  modification  in  what  one 
would  presume  to  be  the  properties  of  the  corresponding 


iJL??''"''''''  "^  '*"•  ""^  declared  by  MattUescn  to  be  more  exact  than  the  old 


'  A  good  illustration  is  afforded  by  the  process  of  Pattinson  as  used 
for  concentrating  the  silver  in  argentiferous  lead.     See  Lead. 


68 


E  T  A  L  S 


mixttue.  The  ca?e  of  sodium  amalgam  may  be  quoted 
as  a  forcible  illustration.  ^Vhat  goes  by  this  name  in 
laboratories  is  an  alloy  of  two  to  three  parts  of  sodium  with 
one  hundred  parts  of  mercury,  which  is  easily  produced  by 
forcing  the  two  components  into  contact  with  each  other 
by  meana  of  a  mortar  and  pestle,  when  they  unite,  with 
deflagration,  into  an  alloy  which  after  cooling  assumes  the 
form  of  a  grey,  hard,  brittle  solid,  although  mercury  is  a 
liquid,  and  sc-iium,  though  a  solid,  is  softer  than  wax. 
Similar  evidence  of  chemical  action  we  have  in  the  cases  of 
brass  (copper  and  zinc),  bronze  (copper  and  tin),  aluminium 
bronze  (copper  and  aluminium),  and  in  many  others  that 
might  be  quoted.  There  are  indeed  a  good  many  alloys 
the  formation  of  which  is  not  accompanied  by  any  obvious 
evolution  of  heat  or  any  very  marked  change  La  the  mean 
properties  of  the  components.  But  in  the  absence  of  all 
precise  thermic  researches  on  the  sulgect  we  are  not  in  a 
jwsition  to  assert  the  absence  of  chemical  action  in  any 
case.  Indeed  our  knowledge  of  the  proximate  composition 
of  alloys  is  in  the  highest  degree  indefinite — we  do  not 
even  know  of  a  single  composite  metal  which  has  been 
really  proved  to  bo  an  unitary  compound,  and  hence  the 
important  problem  of  the  relation  in  alloys  between  pro- 
perties and  composition  must  be  attacked  on  a  purely 
empirical  basis.  What  has  been  done  in  this  direction 
is  shortly  summarized  in  the  following  paragraphs. 

Colour. -^ilost  metals  are  white  or  grey  ;  eo  are  the  alloys  of 
these  metals  with  one  another.  Gol.i  alloys  generally  exhibit  some- 
thing like  the  shade  of  yellow  which  one  would  expect  from  their 
composition  ;  its  amalgams,  however,  are  all  white,  not  yellow. 
Copper  shows  little  tendency  to  impart  its  characteristic  red  colour 
to  its  alloys  with  white  or  grey  metals.  Thus,  for  instance,  the  silver 
alloy  up  to  about  30  per  cent,  of  copper  exhibits  an  almost  pure 
white  colour.  The  alloys  of  copper  with  zinc  (brass)  or  tin  (bronze) 
are  reddish-yellow  when  the  copper  predominates  largely.  As 
the  proportion  of  white  metal  increases,  the  colour  passes  succes- 
sively into  dark  yellow,  pale  yellow,  and  ultimately  into  white. 
Aluminium  bronze,  containing  from  5  to  10  per  cent,  of  aluminium, 
is  golden-yellow. 

Plasticity.— This  quality  is  most  highly  developed  in  certain  pure 
metala,  notably  in  gold,  platinum,  silver,  and  copper.  Of  platinum 
alloys  little  is  known.  The  other  three,  on  uniting  with  one 
another,  substantially  retain  their  plasticities,  but  the  addition  of 
any  metal  outside  the  group  leads  to  deterioration.  Thus,  for 
instance,  according  to  Karsten,  copper,  by  being  alloyed  mth  as  little 
as  0'6  per  cent,  of  zinc,  loses  its  capability  of  being  forged  at  a 
red  heat ;  it  cracks  under  the  hammer.  Antimony  or  arsenic  to 
the  extent  of  0-15  per  cent,  renders  it  unfit  for  being  rolled  into  thin- 
sheet  or  drawn  out  into  fine  wire,  and  makes  it  brittle  in  tho  heat ; 
O'l  per  cent,  of  lead  prohibits  its  conversion  into  leaf. 

Hardness,  Elasticity,  Taisile  Strength,— In  reference  to  these 
qualities,  we  shall  confine  ourselves  to  some  very  striking  changes  for 
the  better  which  the  metals  (l)gold,  (2)  silver,  (3)  copper  suffer  when 
alloyed  with  moderate  proportions  (10  per  cent  or  so)  of  (1)  cop- 
per, (2)  copprr,  (3)  tin,  zinc,  or  alumluium  respectively.  Any  of 
those  five  combinations  leads  to  a  considerable  increase  in  tho  three 
qualities  named,  although  these  are  by  no  means  highly  developed 
in  the  added  metals ;  most  strikingly  it  does  so  in  the  case  of  alumi- 
nium bronze  (copper  and  aluminium),  which  is  so  hard  as  to  bo 
very  difficult  to  file,  and  is  said  to  bo  equal  in  tensile  streniTth 
to  wrought  iron.  To  illustrate  this  we  give  in  the  following  table, 
after  Matthiesen,  the  breaking  strains  of  double  wires.  No.  23 
gauge,  in  tb  avoirdupois,  for  certain  aUoys  on  tho  ono  hand,  and  their 
components  on  tho  other. 

Mloyt. 
efal,  12  per  cent,  of  tin 80-00 

o;'d?;!."V.::::::::":":;:::::::::::::'.::2oi25  ^  shmdora  (22  camD  gow 70-75 

Silver i0-4fi ) 

riattanm ".'.".'.'.'.".".'.'.'.ii-so!^''^'  '  °'  '""'■■  i  "'  pl^ttaam  ....75-80 

Specific  Oraviiy. — This  subject  has  been  extensively  investigated 
by  Matthiesen,  Culvert  and  Johnson,  Kuppfer,  and  others.  In 
discussing  the  results  it  is  convenient  to  compare  the  values  (S) 
found  with  the  values  (S,)  calculated  on  tho  assumption  that  the 
volume  of  the  alloy  is  equal  to  the  sum  of  the  volumes  of  the  com- 
ponents. Let  p„  »2,  P3.., stand  for  the  relative  weights  of  tho  com- 
ponents, P  for  their  joint  weight,  S„Sj,S,.,.for  their  spocific 
gravities,  and  we  have 


Separate  Metals. 

Copper. 25-30  I  „„ 

Tla IcM  than  7  K'™ 

Oopper.. 


.where  the  expression  on  the  right  hand  obviously  moan£  the  con- 
joint volume  Vj  of  the  components  ;  but  the  actual  volume  of  the 
alloy  formed  by  their  union  is,  in  general,  V- V(,(l-(-c),  where  « 
means  the  expansion  (or,  when  negative,  the  contraction)  of  unit- 
volume  of  mixture.  Hence  the  real  valuo 
S=S»/(l-^0, 


«=(So-S)/S. 

Matthiesen's  investigation  {Pogg.  AnnaUnlot  1850,  vol.  ex.  p.  21) 

extends  over  a  largo  numlicr  of  binary  alloys  derived  from  the  metak 

named  in  the  following  table.     Ho  naturally  began  by  procuring 

pure   specimens  of  these   metals  and   determining  their  specific 


^avities. 

The  results  (each  the  mean  of  a  num 
as  follows  :— 

ber  of  determina- 

Num. 

Specific 
Gravity  S 
alCC. 

( 

Adopted 
AtonHc 
Weight. 

Aiitunony. 

C-7I3 

7-294 
SCiS 
9-823 
10  468 
11-370* 
13-573 
13-265 

14-3* 
12-8 
10-5 
12-3 
13-2 
13-5 
14-3 
12-S 

1J2-3 

118 

112 

208 

IDS 

207-4 

200 

107 

Cadmium.. 
Bhnmlli.,. 

Silver 

Lead 

In  these,  as  in  all  the  subsequent  determinations  for  the  alloys,, 
the  weigliings  were  reduced  to  the  vacuum,  and  the  values  for  S 
referred  to  water  at  4°  C.  as  unity.  From  eight  metals  twenty -eight 
different  kinds  of  binary  alloys  can  be  produced ;  of  these  tv.-cuty- 
eight  combinations  eighteen  were  selected;  in  each  case  the  two  com- 
ponents were  fused  together  in  a  variety  of  properly  chosen  atomic 
proportions,  and  the  specific  gravities  of  these  alloys  were  determined. 
The  net  results  are  summarized  iu  the  following  table,  which,  for 
each  combination  A,  B,  in  the  fiist  tivo  columns  gives  the  com- 
position in  multiplies  of  the  "atomic-weights"  given  in  tho  table 
just  quoted,  while  column  3  gives  the  values  of  c  as  calculated  by 
the  w-riter  from  Matthiesen's  numbers  for  S„  and  S.  Hence,  for 
example,  in  the  accompanying  entries  the  flist  line  shows  that  tho 
union  into  an  alloy  of  twice  118  parts 
of  tin  and  once  197  parts  of  gold  in- 
volves an  expansion  from  1  volume  into 
1  -004  ;  the  second  that  the  union  of  onco 
118  parts  of  tin  with  four  times  197  parts 
of  gold  involves  a  contraction  from 
1  volume  into  1  -  -028. 


Tin  arid  Chid. 


Sn      1      A 

2       1       1 
1       {       4 

-i--00»  ! 
-028  1 

Antimony  and  Tin. 

Antimony,  Bismuth. 

Antimony,  Lead.    | 

Sb 

Sn 

e 

Sb    1      Bi 

e 

Sb 

Pb|        e        1 

12  to  8 
4-2 

1 

1 
1 

1 
1 

lto2 
3  to  10 
20  to  100 

+  -002 
H--OOC 
-1--003 
+  -005 
0 

I  to  12 

0 

1 
2 

3 
5-25 

+  -008 
-f-00« 

0 
-I--0067 

0 

Tin.  Cadmium. 

Titi,  Bismuth. 

Tin,  Silver.        \ 

1     '"     i     C" 

e 

Sn 

Bl 

. 

Sn 

Ag 

« 

6 
4 

2 

1 

I 

1  to  3 

12 

-(-  -004 
-I- -005 

0 
-001 

22 

4 

3-1 

1 
1 

1 
1 
1 

4  to  CO 

0 

--002 
--005 
--005 

13 
9 
1! 
3 
2 
1 
1 
1 

4 

-•002 
-•006 
-■008 
-■013 
-019 
-024 
-■«47 
-•038 

Tin,  Gold. 

Tin,  Lead. 

Cadmium,  Bismuth. 

Sii            Au 

' 

Sn    1     Pb 

« 

Cd   1    Bl           e 

15-C 
l-2-.'> 

2 

3 

1 
1 
1 

1 
1 
1 
1 
2 

2 

4 

0 

--002 
-H-OO-J 
-H-004 
-I--003 
+  012 
-015 
--028 

C 

1 
1 
1 
1 
2-4 
6 

-I--003 
+  -003 

0 
+  -0015 
-1--005 
-(-■004 

3    1 1-se        0 

Cadmium,  Lead. 

Cd       Pb  1       < 

6  -    l-3e|oto-OOS5 

BismuUi,  Silver. 

BismiUh,  Gold. 

Lead,  Gold. 

Bl 

Ab 

. 

Bl 

An 

. 

Pb 

Au 

« 

200-2 

1 
1 
1 

4 

Oto 

-^■ofl2 
-003 

--000 
-007 

90 
40 
20 
8 

2 

1 
1 

2 

0 

0 
-003 
--009 
--0I7 
-■035 
-089 
--020 

10 

1 
1 

1- 

1 
1 
1 
2 

4 

--0O4 
-•009 
-•008 
-•con 

-•016 
-018 
-004 
-•Oil 

METALS 


69 


Sismulh,  I^ttd. 

Lead,  Silver. 

Gold,  Silver.        ] 

Bl 

pb   )     ; 

Pb 

ak 

' 

Au 

As 

« 

60-JO 
16 
11 

6 

4 
3 

1 
1 
1 

\ 
1 

1 

3 
3 
4 

6 
12 
50 

0 
-•003 
-■005 
-■007 
-CM 
-■024 
-■040 
-■031 
-•020 
-015 
-■010 
-004 

0 

1 
1 

1 
3 

4 
10 
25 

4 
2 
1 

I 
1 
1 

-■005 
-■003 

0 
+■003 

■f-ooe 

+  ■004 
+  002 

1 
1 

1 
1 

2 

4 
6 

6 
4 
2 

1 
1 
1 
1 

-004 
-■004 
-■004 
—  •002 
-■0025 
-0027 
-■0024 

Mercury,  Tin, 

Mercury,  Lead. 

Hg 

Sn 

. 

Hg 

Pb 

' 

1 
1 

2 

2 

1 
1 

-009 
-005 
-007 

1 

1 
2 

2 

1 
1 

+  002 
-■010 
-016 

To  make  these  numbers  trustwoithy  it  would  bo  necessary  to  de- 
termine their  probable  errors  ;  and  this  Matthiesen  has  not  done. 
It  would  appear  that  any  value  of  e  from  0  to  {say)±  ^002  counts  for 
nothing,  and  anything  up  to  '004  certainly  must  be  taken  as  not 
proving  much  either  way.     If  this  is  correct,  then 

(1)  No  contraction  or  expansion  is  proved  in  the  cases  Sb,  Bi; 
Cd,  Bi  i  Cd,  Pb  ;  Au,  Ag  ; 

(2)  A  contraction  (from  O'S  to  47  per  cent)  is  proved  for 
Sn,  Ag;  Bi,  Ag ;  Bi.Au;  Pb,  Au;  Pb,  Bi;  Hg,  Sn;  Hg,  Pb; 
Sn,  Bi(?);  Au,  Ag  (?); 

(3)  An  expansion  (from  ■S  to  O^S  percent)  is  proved  for  Sb,  Sn; 
Sb,  Pb ;  Sn,  Cd  (?);  Sn,  Pb  (?);  certain  cases  of  Sn,  Au  aod  Pb,  Ag ; 

(4)  In  the  two  series  Sn,  Au  and  Pb,  Ag,  there  are  cases  both  of 
expansion  and  of  contraction. 

Thermic  and  Electric  Properties. — The  specific  heat  of  an  alloy,  so 
far  as  we  know,  is  always  in  approximate  accordance  with  Xhilong 
and  Pctit's  law.    Thus  the  specific  heat  of  CujAli  is 
(5+1)  X  6^4 

6X(i3^6+lx27  ' 

with  about  the  same  degree  of  coiTectncss  as  the  "  constant"  6 '4 
can  claim  for  itself. 

Expansion. — Matthiesen,  from  numerous  determinations  made 
with  alloys  and  their  components,  concludes  that  the  expansion  of 
an  alloy  (from  0°  to  100°  C.)  is  nearly  equal  to  the  sum  of  the  ex- 
pansions of  its  components.  Supposing,  for  instance,  one  volume  of 
gold  to  expand  (from  0°  to  t)  by  ct,  and  one  volume  of  silver  by  $; 
■then  an  alloy  of  four  volumes  of  gold  and  three  volumes  of  silver 
expands  by  (4a  +  30)/7  per  unit 

Fusibility.  — In  the  case  of  an  alloy  the  melting-point  and  the 
freezing-point  are,  in  general,  separated  by  a  greater  or  less  interval 
of  temperature,  and  the  latter  in  itself  may  have  two  values  as  shown 
by  Rudbcrg,  who  found  that  when  a  fused  alloy  of  tin  and  lead  is 
allowed  to  freeze  the  thermometer  becomes  stationai-y  at  two  suc- 
cessive points,  as  shown  in  the  following  table,  where  x  means  the 
number  of  atomic  weights  of  tin  united  with  y  of  lead  in  the  given 
case,  and  the  temperatures  are  in  centigrade  degrees. 


340*        isr        187'       210*       (228') 

1S7'     isr     isr      isr     (22s*) 
We  see  that  the  first  point  varies  with,  while  the  second,  within 

the  range  of  the  experiments,  proved  Independent  of,  the  proportion 

in  which  the  two  metals  are  united. 
The  melting-point  of  many  alloys  lies  below  that  of  even  the  most 

fasible  component,  as  illustrated  in  the  following  tables,  where  the 

numbers  mean  parts  by  weight. 

Tin  and  Lead  {Rudbcrg). 


Per  cent,  of  Tm. 

Ptr  cent,  of  Lead. 

Melting  point 

100 

0 

228" 

100 

836 

T4 

26 

IM 

63 

37 

1S6 

53 

47 

36 

64 

241 

18 

84 

289 

Name 
of  Alloy. 

Tm. 

lead. 

Bltmotb. 

Cadmlnm. 

Melting- 
point. 

Newton's.. -.-.-.«.„ 

Erman's „i „.„.«. 

Woods _ 

(Cadmium) ■ 

3 
3 
1 
2 
0 

2 
S 
1 

4 
0 

6 
8 
3 

7 
0 

0 
0 
0 

1 
I 

100- 

95 

93  7 

70 
(320) 

All  these  alloys  melt  in  boiling  water. 

The  electric  conductivity  of  alloys  qiM  alloys  has  been  investi- 
gated by  Matthiesen.  He  confined  himself  to  binary  alloys  derived 
bom  a  certain  set  of  elemeutaiy  metals.    The  main  results  of  his 


researches  are  given  in  Electkioitt,  vol  viii.  p.  61.  For  :iiu 
practical  electrician  it  is  important  to  observe  how  very  much  tiit 
conductivity  of  copper  is  impaired  by  very  minute  admixtures  even 
of  metals  that  are  good  conductors,  and  also  by  non.metallic  con- 
tamination, especially  with  o.\ygen  (present  as  CuoO). 

Metallic  Substances  Produced  by  the  Union,  of  MetaU  wih 
Small  Proportions  of  Non-Metallic  Elements. 

Hydrogen,  as  vpas  shown  by  Graham,  is  capable  of 
uniting  with  (always  very  large  proportions  of)  certain 
metals,  notably  mth  palladium,  into  metal-like  compounds. 
But  those  hydrogen  alloys,  being  devoid  of  metallurgic 
interest,  fall  better  under  the  heading  Palladium. 

Ox^^CTt— Mercury  and  copper  (perhaps  also  other 
metals)  aie  capable  of  dissolving  their  own  oxides  with 
formation  of  alloys.  Mercury,  by  doing  so,  becomes  viscid 
and  unfit  for  its  ordinary  applications.  Copper,  when 
pure  to  start  with,  suffers  considerable  deterioration  in 
plasticity.  But  the  presence  of  moderate  proportions  of 
cuprous  oxide  has  been  foimd  to  correct  the  evil  influence 
of  small  contaminations  by  arsenic,  antimony,  lead,  and 
other  foreign  metals.  Most  commercial  coppers  owe  their 
good  qualities  to  this  compensating  influence. 

Arsenic  combines  readily  with  all  metals  into  tme 
arsenides,  which  latter,  in  general,  are  soluble  in  the  metal 
itself.  The  presence  in  a  metal  of  even  small  proportions 
of  arsenide  generally  leads  to  considerable  deterioration 
in  mechanical  qualities. 

Phosphorus. — Tlie  remark  just  made  might  be  said  to 
hold  for  phosphorus  were  it  not  for  the  existence  of  what 
is  called  "  phosphorus-bronze,"  an  alloy  of  cojjper  with 
phosphorus  {i.e.,  its  own  phosphide),  which  possesses  valu 
able  properties.  According  to  Abel,  the  most  favourable 
effect  is  produced  by  from  1  to  1^  per  cent,  of  phosphorus. 
Such  an  alloy  can  be  cast  like  ordinary  bronze,  but  excek 
the  latter  in  hardness,  elasticity,  toughness,  and  tensile 
strength.     See  Phosphorus. 

Carbon. — Most  metals  when  in  a  molten  state  are 
capable  of  dissolving  at  least  small  proportions  of  carbon, 
which,  in  general,  leads  to  a  deterioration  in  metallicity, 
except  in  the  case  of  iron,  which  by  the  addition  of  small 
percentages  of  carbon  gains  in  elasticity  and  tensile  strength 
with  little  loss  of  plasticity  (see  Ieon). 

Silicon,  so  far  as  we  know,  behaves  to  metaLs  pretty 
much  like  carbon,  but  our  knowledge  of  facts  is  limited. 
What  is  known  as  "  cast  iron "  is  essentially  an  alloy  of 
iron  proper'  with  2  to  6  per  cent,  of  carbon  and  more  or 
less  of  silicon  (see  Iron).  Alloys  of  copper  and  silicon 
were  prepared  by  Deville  in  1863.  The  alloy  with  12  per 
cent,  of  silicon  is  white,  hard,  and  brittle.  When  diluted 
down  to  4 '8  per  cent,  it  assumes  the  colour  and  fusibility 
of  bronze,  but,  unlike  it,  is  tenacious  and  ductile  like  iron. 

Action  of  the  More  Ordinary  Chemical  Agents  on 
Simple  Metals. 

To  avoid  repetition,  let  us  state  beforehand  that  the 
metals  to  be  referred  to  are  always  understood  to  be  given 
in  the  compact  (frozen)  conditicai,  and  that,  wherever  a 
series  of  metals  are  enumerated  as  being  similarly  attacked, 
the  degree  of  readiness  in  the  action  is  (so  far  as  onr 
knowledge  goes)  indicated  by  the  order  in  which  the  several 
members  are  named, — the  more  readily  changed  metal 
always  standing  first. 

Water,  at  ordinary  or  slightly  elevated  temperatures, 
is  decomposed  more  or  less  readily,  with  evolution  of 
hydrogen  gas  and  formation  of  a  basic  hydrate,  by  (1) 
potassium  (formation  of  KHO),  sodium  (NaHO),  lithium 
(LiOH),  barium,  strontium,  calcium  (BaOjH^,  <Jkc.) ;  (2) 
magnesium,  zinc,  manganese  (MgC^Hj,  <tc.). 

In  the  case  of  group  1  the  action  is  more  or  less  violent, 
and  the  Iiydroxides  formed  are  soluble  in  water  and  very 


70 


M  El  A  L  S 


strongly  basylous ;  mclals'of  group  2  are  only  slowly 
attacked,  witli  formation  of  relatively  feebly  basylous 
and  jiractically  insoluble  hydrates.  Disregarding  the  rarer 
element's  (as  we  propose  to  do  in  this  section),  the  metals 
not  named  so  far  may  be  said  to  be  proof  against  the 
action  of  jmre  water  in  the  absence  of  free  oxygen  (air). 

By  the  conjoint  action  of  water  and  air,  thallium,  lead, 
bismuth  are  oxidized,  with  formation  of  more  or  less 
sparingly  soluble  hydrates  (ThHO,  PbOjH^,  Bi03H3), 
which,  in  the  presence  of  carbonic  acid,  pass  into  still  less 
soluble  basic  carbonates. 

Iron,  as  everybody  knows,  when  exposed  to  moisture  and 
air,  "  rusts,"  that  is,  undergoes  gradual  conversion  into  a 
brown  ferric  hydrate,  Fe.fi^xHfi ;  but  this  process  never 
takes  place  in  the  absence  of  air,  and  it  ia  questionable 
whether  it  ever  sets  in  in  the  absence  of  carbonic  acid. 
What  is  known  is  that  iron  never  rusts  in  solutions  of 
caustic  alkalies  or  lime  (which  reagents  preclude  the  pre- 
sence of  free  carbonic  acid),  while  it  does  so  readily  in 
ordinary  moist  air  containing  COj.  When  once  started 
the  process  proceeds  with  increasing  rapidity,  the  ferric 
hydi'ate  produced  acting  as  a  carrier  of  oxygen;  it  gives 
\ip  part  of  its  oxygen  to  the  adjoining  metal,,  being  itself 
reduced  to  (perhaps)  Fe^O^,  which  latter  again  absorbs 
oxygen  from  the  air  to  become  ferric  hydrate  and  so  on 
(Kuhlmann). 

Copper,  in  the  present  connexion,  is  intermediate  between 
iron  and  the  following  group  of  metals. 

Mercury,  if  pure,  and  all  the  "  noble"  metals  (silver,  gold, 
platinum,  and  platinum-metals),  are  absolutely  proof  against 
water  even  in  the  presence  of  oxygen  and  carbonic  acid. 

The  metals  grouped  together  above  under  1  and  2  act 
on  steam  pretty  much  as  they  do  on  liquid  water.  Of 
the  rest,  the  following  are  readily  oxidized  by  steam  at  a 
red  heat,  with  formation  of  hydrogen  gas, — zinc,  iron, 
cadmium,  cobalt,  nickel,  tin.  Bismuth  is  similarly  attacked, 
but  slowly,  at  a  white  heat.  Aluminium  is  barely  affected 
even  at  a  white  heat,  if  it  is  pure;  the  ordinary  impure 
metal  is  liable  to  be  very  readily  oxidized. 

Aqueous  Sulphuric  or  Hydrochloric  Acid,  of  course, 
readily  dissolves  groups  1  and  2,  with  evolution  of  hydro- 
gen and  formation  of  chlorides  or  sulphates.  The  same 
holds  f«r  the  following  group  (A) : — [manganese,  zinc, 
magnesium]  iron,  aluminium,  cobalt,  nickel,  cadmium. 
Tin  dissolves  readily  in  strong  hot  hydrochloric  acid  as 
SnCl, ;  aqueous  vitriol  does  not  act  on  it  appreciably  in 
the  cold  ;  at  150°  it  attacks  it  more  or  less  quickly,  accord- 
ing to  the  strength  of  the  acid,  with  evolution  of  sul- 
phuretted hydrogen  or,  when  the  acid  is  stronger,  of 
sulphurous  acid  gas  and  deposition  of  sulphur  (Calvert 
and  Johnson).  A  group  (B),  comprising  copper,  are, 
substantially,  attacked  only  m  the  presence  of  oxygen  or 
air.  Lead,  in  sufficiently  dilute  acid,  or  in  stronger  acid  if 
not  too  hot,  remains  unchanged.  A  group  (C)  may  be 
formed  of  mercury,  silver,  gold,  and  platinum,  which  arc 
not  touched  by  either  aqueous  acid  in  any  circumstances. 

Hot  (concentrated)  oil  of  vitriol  does  not  attack  gold, 
platinum,  and  platinum-metals  generally ;  all  other  metals 
(including  even  silver)  are  converted  into  sulphates,  with 
evolution  of  sulphiirous  acid.  In  the  case  of  iron,  ferric 
sijphate,  Pe^(S04)3,  is  produced ;  tin  yields  a  somewhat 
indefinite  sulphate  of  its  binoxide  Sn02. 

Nitric  Acid-  {Aqueous). — Gold,  platinum,  iridium,  and 
rhodium  only  are  proof  against  the  action  of  this  powerful 
oxidizer.  Tin  and  antimony  (also  arsenic)  are  converted  by 
it  (ultimately)  into  hydrates  of  their  highest  cades  SnOj, 
Sb^Oj  (AsjOg),— the  oxides  of  tin  and  antimony  being 
insoluble  in  water  and  in  the  acid  itself.  All  other  metals, 
including  palladium,  are  dissolved  as  nitrates,  the  oxidiz- 
|ing  part  of  the  reagent  being  generally  reduced  to  nitric 


oxide,  NO,  or  sometimes  to  K^Oj  or  N^O^.  Iron,  zinc, 
cadmium,  also  tin  under  certain  conditions,  reduce  the 
dilute  acid,  partially  at  least,  to  nitrous  oxide,  NjO,  or 
nitrate  of  ammonia,  NHj.N03  =  N20 -)- 2H2O. 

Aqua  Beyia,  a  mixture  of  nitric  and  hydrochloric  acids, 
converts  all  metals  (even  gold,  the  "  king  of  metals,"  whenea 
the  name)  into  chlorides,  except  only  rhodium,  iridium, 
and  ruthenium,  which,  when  pure,  are  not  attacked. 

Caustic  Alkalies. — Of  metals  not  decomposing  liquid 
pure  water,  only  a  few  dissolve  in  aqueous  caustic 
potash  or  soda,  with  evolution  of  hydrogen.  The  most 
irnportant  of  these  are  aluminium  and  zinc,  which  are 
converted  into  alumiuate,  AL,033(K2  or  Na,)0,  and 
zincate,  ZnO.RHO,  where  R^K  or'  Na  respectively. 
But  of  the  rest  the  majority,  when  treated  with  boiling 
sufficiently  strong  alkali,  are  attacked  at  least  superficially; 
of  ordinary  metals  ordy  gold,  platinum,  and  silver  are 
perfectly  proof  against  the  reagents  under  consideratioi^ 
and  these  accordingly  are  used  preferably  for  the  construc- 
tion of  vessels  intended  for  analytical  operations  involving 
the  use  of  aqueous  caustic  alkalies.  For  preparative 
purposes  iron  is  universally  employed  and  works  well ;  but 
it  is  not  available  analytically,  because. a  superficial  oxida- 
tion of  the  empty  part  of  the  vessel  (by  the  water  and  air) 
cannot  be  prevented.  According  to  the  writer's  experience 
basins  made  of  pure  malleable  nickel  are  free  from  this 
drawback  ;  they  work  as  well  as  platinum,  and  rather  better 
than  silver  ones  do.  There  is  hardly  a  single  metal  which 
holds  out  against  the  alkalies  themselves  when  in  the  state 
of  fiery  fusion  ;  even  platinum  is  most  violently  attacked. 
In  chemical  laboratories  fusions  with  caustic  alkalies  are 
always  effected  in  vessels  made  of  gold  or  silver,  these 
metals  holding  out  fairly  well  even  in  the  presence  of  air. 
Gold  is  the  better  of  the  two.  Iron,  which  stands  so  well 
against  aqueous  alkalies,  is  most  violently  attacked  by  the 
fused  reagents.  Yet  tons  of  caustic  soda  are  fused  daily 
in  chemical  works  in  iron  pots  without  thereby  suffering 
contamination,  which  seems  to  show  that  (clean)  iron, 
like  gold  and  silver,  is  attacked  only  by  the  conjoint 
action  of  fused  alkali  and  air,  the  influence  of  the  latter 
being  of  course  minimized  in  large-scale  operatioris. 

Oxygen  or  Air. — The  noble  metals  (from  silver  upwards) 
do  not  combine  directly  with  oxygen  given  as  oxygen  gas 
(Go),  although,  like  silver,  they  may  absorb  this  gas  largely 
when  in  the  fused  condition,  and  may  not  be  procr  against 
ozone,  Oy  Mercury,  within  a  certain  range  of  tempera- 
tures situated  close  to  its  boiling  point,  combines  slowly 
with  oxygen  into  the  red  oxide,  which,  however,  breaks  up 
again  at  higher  temperatures.  All  other  metals,  when 
heated  in  oxygen  or  air,  are  converted,  more  or  less  readily, 
into  stable  oxides.  Potassium,  for  example,  yields  peroxide, 
K0O2  or  KjOj ;  sodium  gives  NajO,, ;  the  barium-grouii 
metals,  as  well  as  magnesium,  cadmium,  zinc,  lead,  copper, 
are  converted  into  their  monoxides  MeO.  Bismuth  and 
antimony  give  (the  latter  very  readily)  sesquioxide  (Bi.,Oj 
and  SbjOg,  the  latter  •  being  capable  of  passing  into 
Sb.,04).  Aluminium,  when  pure  and  kept  out  of  contact 
with  siliceous  matter,  is  only  oxidized  at  a  white  heat, 
and  then  very  slowly,  into  alumina,  AUOj.  Tin,  at  high 
temperatures,  passes  slowly  into  binoxide,  SnOj. 

Sulphur. — Amongst  the  better  known  metals,  gold  and 
aluminium  are  the  only  ones  which,  when  heated  with 
sulphur  or  in  sulphur  vapour,  remain  unchanged.  All  the 
rest,  under  these  circumstances,  are  converted  into  sulphides. 
The  metals  of  the  alkalies  and  nlkaliao  earths,  also 
magnesium,  bum  in  sulphur-vapour  as  they  do  in  oxygen. 
Of  the  heavy  meals,  copper  is  Uio  one  which  exhibits  by 
far  the  greatest  avidity  for  sulphur,  its  subsulphide  Cu^S_ 
being  the  stablest  of  all  hea^-y  metallic  sulpliides  m 
opposition  to  dry  reactions.     Sec  MjETAtLtniGY. 


M  E  T  — M  E  T 


71 


Chionn^.-^AU  metals,  when  treated  with  chlorine  gas  at 
the  proper  temperatures,  pass  into  chlorides.  In  some 
cases  the  chlorine  is  taken  up  in  two  instalments,  a  lower 
chloride  being  produced  first,  to  pass  ultimately  into  a 
higher  chloride.  Iron,  for  instance,  is  converted  first 
into  FeClj,  ultimately  into  FejCl^,  which  practically  means 
a  mixture  of  the  two  chlorides,  or  pure  FcjCl.  as  a  final 
product.  Of  the  several  products,  the  chlorides  of  gold 
and  platinum  (AUCI3  and  PtCl,)  are  the  only  ones  which 
when  heated  beyond  their  temperature  of  formation 
dissociate  into  metal  and  chlorine.  The  ultimate  chlorina- 
tion  product  of  copper,  CuClj,  when  heated  to  redness, 
decomposes  into  the  lower  chloride,  CUjClj,  and  chlorine. 
All  the  rest,  when  heated  by  themselves,  volatilize,  some 
at  lower,  others  at  higher  temperatures. 

Of  the  several  individual  chlorides,  the  following  are 
liquids  or  solids,  volatile  enough  to  be  distilled  from  out 
Of  glass  vessels :— AsClj,  SbClj,  SnCl^,  BiClj,  HgCl^  the 
'chlorides  of  arsenic,  antimony,  tin,  bismuth,  mercury  re- 
spectively. The  following  are  readily  volatilized  in  a 
Current  of  chlorine,  at  a  red  heat : — AljClj,  OjClj,  FCjClu, 
the  chlorides  of  aluminium,  chromium,  iron.  The  follow- 
ing, though  volatile  at  higher  temperatures,  are  not  vola- 
tilized at  dull  redness :— KCl,  NaCl,  LiCl,  NiClj,  CoClj, 
MnCl^  ZnClj,  MgClj,  PbClj,  AgCl,  the  chlorides  of 
I>ot;issium,  sodium,  lithium,  nickel,  cobalt,  manganese, 
zinc,  magnesium,  lead,  silver.  Somewhat  less  volatile 
than  the  last  named  group  are  the  chlorides  (MClj)  of 
barium,  strontium,  and  calcium. 

Metallic  chlorides,  as  a  class,  are  readily  soluble  in 
■niter.  The  following  are  the  most  important  exceptions  ^ 
— chloride  of  silver,  AgCl,  and  subchloride  of  mercury, 
E^oCl^  are  absolutely  insoluble ;  chloride  of  lead,  PbC'lj, 
and  subchloride  of  copper,  Cu^CIj,  are  very  sparingly 
soluble  in  water.  The  chlorides  AsClj,  SbClj,  BiClj,  are  at 
once  decomposed  by  (liquid)  water,  with  formation  of 
oxide  (AsjOj)  or  oxychlorides  (SbClO,  BiClO)  and  hydro- 
chloric acid.  The  chlorides  MgCl.^  AIjCl^  Cr.^Clp  Fe^Clj 
suffer  a  similar  decomposition  when  evaporated  with  water 
in  the  heat.  The  same  holds  in  a  limited  sense  for  ZnCL^, 
CoCl ,,  NiCL,  and  even  CaCl^.  All  chlorides,  except  those 
of  silver  and  mercury  (and,  of  course,  those  of  gold  and 
platinum),  are  oxidized  by  steam  at  high  temperatures, 
wth  elimination  of  hydrochfcric  acid. 

The  above  statements  concerning  the  volatilities  and 
solubilities  of  metallic  chlorides  form  the  basis  of  a 
number  of  important  analytical  methods  {or  the  separation 
of  the  respective  metals. 

'For  the  characters  of  metals  as  cnemical  elements  the 
reader  is  referred  to  t"he  article  Chemistey  and  to  the 
special  articles  on  the  different  mefals.  (w.  D.) 

ilETAL-WORK.  Among  the  many  stages  in  the-  de- 
velopment of  primeval  man,  none  can  have  been  of  greater 
moment  in  his  struggle  for  existence  than  the  discovery 
of  the  metals,  and  the  means  of  working  them.  The 
Jiames  generally  given  to  the  three  prehistoric  periods  of 
man's  life  on  the  earth — the  Stone,  the  Bronze,  and  the  Iron 
age — imply  the  vast  importance  of  the  progressive  steps 
from  the  flint  knife  to  the  bronze  celt,  and  lastly  to  the 
keen-edged  elastic  iron  weapon  or  tool.  The  length  of 
time  during  which  each  of  these  ages  lasted  must  of  course 
have  been  different  in  every  country  and  race  in  the  world. 
The  Digger  Indians  of  South  California  have  even  now 
not  progressed  beyond  the  Stone  Age ;  while  some  of  the 
tribes  of  Central  Africa  are  acquainted  with  the  use  of 
copper  and  bronze,  though  they  are  unable  to_6melt  ot 
work  iron. 

\he  metals  chiefly  used  have  oeen  gold,  silver,  copper 
ai\d^in  (the  last  two  generally  mixed,  forming  an  alloy 
called  bronze),  iron,  and  lead.  » The  peculiarities  of  these 


various  metals  havrnaturally  marked  out  each  of  them  for* 
special  uses  and  methods  of  treatment.  The  durability  and 
the  extraordinary  ductility  and  pliancy  of  gold,  its  power  of 
being  subdivided,  drawnr  out,  or  flattened  into  wire  or  leaf 
of  almost  infinite  fineness,  have  led  to  its  being  used  for 
works  where  great  minuteness  and  delicacy  of  execution 
were  required ;  while  its  beauty  and  rarity  have,  for  the 
most  part,  limited  its  use  to  objects  of  adornment  and 
luxury,  as  distinct  from  those  of  utility.  In  a  leaser 
degree  most  of  the  qualities  of  gold  are  shared  by  silver, 
and  consequently  the  treatment  of  these  two  metals  has 
always  been  very  similar,  though  the  greater  abundance 
of  the  latter  metal  has  allowed  it  to  be  used  on  a  larger 
scale  and  for  a  greater  variety  of  purposes. 

Bronze  is  an  alloy  of  copper  and  tin  in  varying  propoP 
tions,  the  proportion  of  tin  being  from  8  to  20  per  cent' 
The  great  fluidity  of  bronze  when  melted,  the  slightness  6f 
its  contraction  on  solidifying,  together  with  its  density  and 
hardness,  make  it  especially  suitable  for  casting,  and  alloit' 
of  its  taking  the  impress  of  the  mould  with  extreme  sharp^ 
ness  and  delicacy.  In  the  form  of  plate  it  can  be  tempered 
and  annealed  till  its  elasticity  and  toughness  are  much 
increased,  and  it  can  then  be  formed  into  almost  any  shapA 
under  the  hammer  and  punch.  By  other  methods  of 
treatment,  known  to  the  ancient  Egyptians,  Greeks,  and 
others,  but  now  forgotten,  it  could  be  hardened  and  formed 
into  knife  and  razor  edges  of  the  utmost  keenness.  In 
many  specimens  of  ancient  bronze  small  quantities  of 
silver,  lead,  and  zinc  have  been  found,  but  their  presence 
is  probably  accidental. 

In  modem  times,  after  the  discovery  of  zinc,  an  alloy  of 
copper  and  zinc  called  brass  has  been  much  used,  chiefly 
for  the  sake  of  its  cheapness  as  compared  vrith  bronze.  In' 
beauty,  durabihty,  and  delicacy  of  surface  it  is  very  inferior 
to  bronze,  and,  though  of  some  commercial  importance,  has 
been  of  but  little  use  in  the  production  of  works  of  art. 

To  some  extent  copper  was  used  in  an  almost  pure  state 
during  mediaeval  times;  especially  from  the  12th  to  the 
15th  century,  mainly  for  objects  of  ecclesiastical  use,  suclr 
as  pyxes,  monstrances,  reliquaries,  and  croziers,  partly  oi) 
account  of  its  softness  under  the  tool,  and  also  because  if 
was  slightly  easier  to  apply  enamel  and  gilding  to  pure 
copper  than  to  bronze  (see  fig.  1).  In  the  mediaeval 
period  it  was  used  to  some  extent  in  the  shape  of  thin 
sheeting  for  roofs,  as  at  St  Mark's,  Venice ;  while  during 
the  16th  and  17th  centuries  it  was  largely  employed  for 
ornamental  domestic  vessels  of  various  sorts. 

Iron} — The  abundance  in  which  iron  is  found  in  so 
many  places,  its  great  strength,  its  remarkable  ductilit^ 
and  malleability  in  a  red-hot  state,  and  the  ease  with; 
which  two  heated  surfaces  of  iron  can  be  welded  together 
under  the  hammer  combine  to  make  it  specially  suitable 
for  works  on  a  large  scale  where  strength  with  lightness 
are  required — things  such  as  screens,  window-grills,  oma-_ 
mental  hinges,  and  th«  like. 

In  its  hot  plastic  state  iron  can  be  formed  and  modelled 
under  the  hammer  to  almost  any  degree  of  refinement, 
while  its  great  strength  allows  it  to  be  beaten  out  into 
leaves  and  ornaments  of  almost  paper-like  thinness  and 
delicacy.  With  repeated  hammering,  drawing  out,  and 
annealing,  it  gains  much  in  strength  and  toughness,  &nd 
the  addition  of  a  very  minute  quantity  of  carbon  converts' 

'  Some  recent  analyses  of  the  iron  of  prehistoric  weajjons  have 
brought  to  light  the  interesting  fact  that  many  of  these  earlieat 
specimens  of  iron  manufacture  contain  a  considerable  percentage  of 
nickeL  Tliis  special  alloy  does  not  occur  in  any  known  iron  ores^ 
but  is  invariably  found  in  meteoric  iron.  It  thus  appears  that  iron 
was  manufactured  from  meteorolites  which  had  fallen  to  the  earth  in 
an  almost  pure  metallic  state,  possibly  long  before  prehistoric  man 
had  learnt  bow  to  dig  for  and  smelt  iron  in  any  of  the  forma  of  ore 
which  are  found  oil  this  planet. 


72 


METAL- AV  OEK 


it  into  feteel,  less  tough,  but  of  the  keenest  hardness."  The 
iarge  emijloyment  of  cast  iron  is  comparatively  modern,  in 
England  at  least  only  dating  from  the  16th  century;  it  is 
not,  however,  incapable  of  artistic  treatment  if  due  regard 
be  paid  to  the  necessities  of  casting,  and  if  no  attempt  is 
made  to  imitate  the  fine-drawn  lightness  to  which  wrought 
iron  so  readily  lends  itself.  At  the  best,  however,  it  is  not 
generally  suited  for  the  finest  work,  as  the  great  contrac- 
tion of  iron  in  passing  from  the  fluid  to  the  solid  state 
renders  the  cast  somewhat  blunt  and  spiritless. 

Among  the  Assyrians,  Egyptians,  and  Creeks  the  use  of 
iron,  either  cast  or  wrought,  was  very  limited,  bronze  being 
the  favourite  mfetal  for 
almost  all  purposes. 
The  difiiculty  of  smelt-' 
ing  the  ore  was  prob-, 
ably  one  reason  for 
this,  as  well  as  thd 
now  forgotten  skilli 
which  enabled  bronzffi 
to  be  tempered  to  a 
steel-like  edge.  Ithad, 
however,  its  value,  of 
which  a  proof  occurs' 
in  Homer  (II.  xxiii.), 
where  a  mass  of  iron 
is  mentioned  as  being 
one  of  the  prizes  at 
the  funeral  games  of 
Patroclus. 

Methods  of  Manipu- 
lation in  Metal-  Work. 
— Gold,  silver,  and 
bronze  may  be  treated 
in  various  ways,  the' 
chief  of  which  are  (1) 
casting  in  a  mould, 
and  (2)  treattoent  by 
hammeringand  punch- 
ing (French,  repousse). 
,  The  first  of  these, 
casting,  is  chiefly 
adapted  for  bronze, 
or  in  the  case  of  the 
more  precious  metals 
only  if  they  are  used 
on  a  very  small  scale. 
The  reason  of  this  is 
that  a  repouss6  relief 
is  of  much  thinned 
substance  than  if  the 
same  design  were  cast, 
even  by  the  most 
skilful  metal-worker, 
and  so  a  largo  surface 
may  be  produced  with 
a  very  small  expendi- 
ture of  valuable  metitl. 
Casting  is  probably 
the  most  primitive 
metliodof  metal-work. 
This  has  passed  tlu-ough  three  stages,  the  fu-st  being 
Tepresented  by  solid  casting-s,  such' as  are  most  celts  and 
tither  implements  of  the  prehistoric  time ;  the  mould 
'vaa  formed  of  clay,  sand,  or  stone,  and  the  fluid  metal 
was  poured  in  tdl  the  hoUow  w^s  full.  The  next  stage 
waa,  in  the  case  of  bronze,  to  introduce  an  iron  core,  prob- 
ably to  save  needles-s  ox])endituro  of  tho  more  valuable 
metal.  The  British  Museum  possesses  an  interesting 
iEtrascan  or  Arclmic  Italiau  example  of   this  primitive 


device.  It  is'a  bronze  statuette  from  Sessa  on  the  Voltumo, 
about  2  feet  high,  of  a  female  standing,  robed  in  a  close- 
fitting  chiton.  The  presence  of  the  iron  core  has  been 
made  visible  by  the  splitting  of  the  figure,  owing  to  the 
unequal  contraction  of  the  two  metals.  The  forearms, 
which  are  extended,  have  been  cast  separately  and  soldered 
or  brazed  on  to  the  elbows. 

The  third  and  last  stage  in  the  progress  ol  tho  art  of 
casting  was  the  employment  of  a  core,  generally  of  clay, 
round  which  tho  metal  was  cast  in  a  mere  skin,  only  thick 
enough  for  strength,  without  waste  of  metal.  The  Greeks 
and  Komans  attained  to  the  greatest  possible  skill  in  this 
process.  Their  exact  method  is  not  certainly  known, 
but  it  appears  probable  that  they  were  acquainted  with 
the  process  now  called  ci  cire  perdue — the  same  as  that 
employed  by  the  great  Italian  artists  in  bronze,  and 
still  unimproved  upon  even  at  the  present  day.  Cellini, 
the  great  Florentine,  artist  of  the  16th  century,  has 
described  it  fully  in  his  Trattato  delta  Sculiura.  If  a 
statue  was  to  be  cast,  the  figure  was  first  roughly  modelled 
in  clay — only  rather  smaller  in  all  its  dimensions  than  the 
future  bronze ;  all  over  thb  a  skin  of  wax  was  laid,  and 
worked  by  the  sculptor  with  modelling  tools  to  the  required 
form  and  finish.  A  mixture  of  pounded  brick,  clay,  and 
ashes  was  then  ground  finely  in  water  to  the  consistence  of 
cream,  and  successive  coats  of  this  mixture  were  then 
applied  with  a  brush,  till  a  second  skin  was  formed  all 
over  the  wax,  fitting  closely  int^  every  line  and  depression 
of  the  modelling.  Soft  clay  was  then  carefully  laid  on  to 
sttengthen  the  mould,  in  considerable  thickness,  till  the 
whole  statue  appeared  like  a  shapeless  mass  of  clay,  round 
which  iron  hoops  were  bound  to  hold  it  all  together.  Tue 
whole  was  then  thoroughly  dried,  and  placed  in  a  hot  (jven, 
which  baked  the  clay,  both  of  the  core  and  the  outside 
mould,  and  melted  the  wax,  which  was  allowed  to  run  out 
from  small  holes  liiade  for  .the  purpose.  Thus  a  hollow 
was  left,  corresponding  to  the  skin  of  wax  between  the  core 
and  the  mould,  the  relative  positions  of  which  were  pre- 
served by  various  small  rods  of  bronze,  which  had  pre- 
viously been  driven  through  from  the  outer  mould  to  the 
rough  core.  The  mould  was  now  ready,  and  melted  bronze 
was  poured  in  till  the  whole  space  between  the  core  and 
the  outer  mould  was  full  After  slowly  cooling,  the  outer 
mould  was  broken  away  from  outside  the  statue,  and  tha 
inner  core  as  much  as  possible  broken  up  and  raked  out 
through  a  hole  in  the  foot  or  some  other  part  of  the  statue. 
The  projecting  rods  of  bronze  were  then  cut  away,  and 
the  whole  finished  by  rubbing  down  and  polishing  over  any 
roughnesses  or  defective  places.  The  most  skilful  sculptors, 
however,  had  but  little  of  this  after-touching  to  do,  the 
final  modelling  and  even  poHsh  which  they  had  put  upon 
the  was  being  faithfully  reproduced  in  the  bronze  casting. 

The  further  enrichment  of  the  object  by  enamels  and 
inlay  of  other  metals  was  practised  at  a  very  early  period 
by  Assyrian,  Egyptian,  and  Greek  metal-workers,  as  weD 
as  by  the  artists  of  Persia  and  mediieval  Europe. 

The  second  chief  process,  that  of  hammered  work  (Greek, 
sphyrelata ;  French,  repousse),  was  probably  adopted  for 
bronze-work  on  a  large  scale,  before  the  art  of  forming 
large  castings  was  discovered.  In  the  most  primitive 
method  thin  plates  of  bronze  were  hammered  over  a 
wooden  core,  rudely  cut  into  the  required  shape,  the  core 
serving  the  double  purpose  of  giving  shape  to  and 
strengthening  the  thin  metal. 

A  further  development  in  the  art  of  hammered  woit 
consisted  in  laj-ing  the  metal  plate  on  a  soft  and  elastic 
bed  of  cement  made  of  pitch  and  pounded  brick.  The 
design  was  then  beaten  into  relief  from  the  back  with 
hammers  and  jiunches,  tho  pitdi  bed  yielding  to  the 
protuberanoce  which  were  thus  formed,  and  serving  to  prf^ 


METAL- WORK 


rs 


Vent  the  punch  from  breaking  the  metal  into  holes.  The 
pitch  was  then  melted  away  from  the  front  of  the  embossed 
relief,  and  applied  in  a  similar  way  to  the  back,  so  that  the 
modelling  could  be  completed  on  the  face  of  the  relief, 
the  final  touches  being  given  by  the  graver.  This  process 
was  chiefly  applied  by  mediaeval  artists  to  the  precious 
metals,  but  by  the  Assyrians,  Greeks,  and  other  early 
nations  it  was  largely  used  for  bronze. 

The  great  gates  of  Shalmaneser  11.,  859-824  B.C.,  from 
Balawat,  now  in  the  British  Museum,  are  a  remarkable 
example  of  this  sort  of  work  on  a  large  scale,  though  the 
treatment  of  the  reliefs  is  minute  and  delicate.  The  "  Siris 
bronzes,"  in  the  same  museum,  are  a  most  astonishing 
example  of  the  skill  attained  by  Greek  artists  in  this 
reponss^  work  (see  Bronsted's  Bronsts  of  Siris,  1836). 
They  are  a  pair  of  shoulder-pieces  from  a  suit  of  bronze 
armour,  and  each  has  m  very  high  relief  a  combat  between 
a  Greek  warrior  and  an  Amazon.  No  work  of  art  in 
metal  has  probably  ever  surpassed  these  little  figures  for 
beauty,  vigour,  and  expression,  while  the  skill  with  which 
the  artist  has  beaten  these  high  reliefs  out  of  a  flat  plate 
of  metal  appears  almost  miraculous.  The  heads  of  the 
figures  are  nearly  detached  from  the  ground,  their  sub- 
stance is  little  thicker  than  paper,  and  yet  in  no  place 
has  the  metal  been  broken  through  by  the  puncL  They 
are  probably  of  the  school  of  Praxiteles,  and  date  from  the 
<th  centtiry  Bx;.  (see  fig.  2). 


/  Fia  2.— One  o(  the  Siiis  Bronzes. 

Copper  and  tin  have  been  but  little  used  separately. 
Copper  in  its  pure  state  may  be  worked  by  the  same 
Ibethods  as  bronze,  but  it  is  inferior  to  it  in  Lardness, 
strength,  and  beauty  of  surface.    Tin  is  too  geak  and 


brittle  a  metal  to  be  employed  alone  for  any  but  email 
objects.  Some  considerable  number  of  tin  drinking-cups 
and  bowls  of  the  Celtic  period  have  been  found  in  Corn- 
wall in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  celebrated  tin  and  copper 
mines,  which  appear  to  have  been  worked  from  a  very  early 
period.  The  existence  of  these  mines  was  known  to  the 
Phoenicians,  who  carried  on  a  considerable  trade  in  metals 
with  the  south-west  comer  of  England  and  the  Scilly  Isles 
— probably  the  Cassiterides  of  Pliny  and  other  classical 
writers. 

The  use  of  lead  has  been  more  extended.  In  sheets  it 
forms  the  best  of  all  coverings  for  roofs  and  even  spires. 
In  the  Roman  and  mediaeval  periods  it  was  largely  used 
for  cofiins,  which  were  often  richly  ornamented  with  cast 
work  in  relief.  Though  fusible  at  a  very  low  temperature, 
and  very  soft,  it  has  great  power  of  resisting  decay  from 
damp  or  exposura  Its  most  important  use  in  an  artistic 
form  has  been  in  the  shape  of  baptismal  fonts,  chiefly 
between  the  11th  and  the  14th  centuries.  The  superior 
beauty  of  colour  and  durability  of  old  specimens  of  lead  is 
owing  to  the  natural  presence  of  a  small  proportion  of 
silver.  Modem  smelters  carefully  extract  this  silver  from 
the  lead  ore,  thereby  greatly  impairing  the  durability  and 
beauty  of  the  metal 

As  in  almost  all  the  arts,  the  ancient  Egyptians  excelled 
in  their  metal-work,  especially  in  the  use  of  bronze  and 
the  precious  metals.  These  were  worked  by  casting  and 
hammering,  and  ornamented  by  inlay,  gilding,  and  enamels 
with  the  greatest  possible  skill. 

From  Egypt  perhaps  was  derived  the  early  skill  of  t& 
Hebrews.  Further  instruction  in  the  art  of  metal-working 
came  probably  to  the  Jews  from  the  neighbouring  country 
of  Tyre.  The  description  of  the  great  gold  lions  of 
Solomon's  throne,  and  the  laver  of  cast  bronze  supported 
on  figiires  of  oxen,  shows  that  the  artificers  of  that  time  had 
overcome  the  difficulties  of  metal-working  and  founding 
on  a  large  scale.  The  Assyrians  were  perhaps  the  most 
remarkable  of  all  ancient  nations  for  the  colossal  size  and 
splendour  of  their  works  in  metal  j  whole  circuit  walls  of 
great  cities,  such  as  Ecbatana,  are  said  to  have  been 
covered  with  metal  plates,  gilt  or  silvered. 

Herodotus,  Athenaeus,  and  other  Greek  and  Koman 
writers  have  recorded  the  enormous  number  of  colossal 
statues  and  other  works  of  art  for  which  Babylon  and 
Nineveh  were  so  famed.  The  numerous  objects  of  bronze 
and  other  metals  brought  to  light  by  the  excavations  of 
the  last  forty  years  in  the  Tigris  and  Euphrates  valleys,' 
though  mostly  on  a  small  scale,  bear  witness  to  the  great 
skill  and  artistic  power  of  the  people  who  produced  them; 
while  the  recent  discovery  of  some  bronze  statuettes, 
shown  by  inscriptions  on  theln  to  be  not  later  than  2200 
B.O.,  proves  how  early  was  the  development  of  this  branch 
of  art  among  the  people  of  Assyria. 

The  Metal-  Work  of  Greece. — The  poems  of  Homer  are 
full  of  descriptions  of  elaborate  works  in  bronze,  iron,  gold, 
and  silver,  which,  even  when  fulf  allowance  is  made  for 
poetic  fancy,  show  clearly  enough  a  very  advanced  amount 
of  skill  in  the  working  and  ornamenting  of  these  metals 
among  the  Greeks  of  his  time.  His  description  of  the 
shield  of  Achilles,  made  of  bronze,  enriched  with  bands  of 
figure  reliefs  in  gold,  silver,  and  tin,  cotdd  hardly  have 
been  written  by  a  man  who  had  not  some  personal 
acqtiaintance  with  works  in  metal  of  a  very  elaborate  kind. 
Again,  the  accuracy  of  his  descriptions  of  brazen  houses — 
such  as  that  of  Alcinous,  Od.  vii.  81 — is  borne  witness  to  by 
Pausanias's  mention  of  the  bronze  temple  of  Athen* 
XoAkiouco?  in  Sparta,  and  the  bronze  chamber  dedicated 
to  Myron  in  648  B.C.,  as  well  as  by  the  discovery  of  die 
stains  and  bronze  nails,  which  show  that  the  whole  interior 
of  the  so-called  treasury  of  Atreus  at  Mycen«  was  once 


T4 


M  E  T  A  L-W  0  R  K 


oorered  ■with  a  lining  of  bronze  plates.  Of  the  two  chief 
methods  of  working  bronze,  gold,  and  silver,  it  is  probable 
that  the  hammer  process  was  first  practised,  at  least  for 
statues,  among  the  Greeks,  who  themselves  attributed  the 
invention  of  the  art  of  hollow  casting  to  Theodorus  and 
Ehoecus,  both  Samian  sculptors,  about  the  middle  of  the 
6th  century  B.a  Pausanias  spicially  mentions  that  ono 
of  the  oldest  statues  he  had  ever  seen  was  a  large  figure 
of  Zeus  in  Sparta,  made  of  hammered  bronze  plates  riveted 
together.  With  increased  skill  in  large  castings,  and  the 
discovery  of  the  use  of  cores,  by  which  the  fluid  bronze 
was  poured  into  a  mere  skin-like  cavity,  hammered  or 
repouss^  work  (Greek,  sphyrdata)  was  only  used  for  small 
objects  where  lightness  was  desirable,  or  for  the  precious 
metals  in  order  to  avoid  large  expenditure  of  metsi  The 
colossal  statues  of  ivory  and  gold  by  Phidias  were  the 
most  notable  examples  of  this  use  of  gold,  especially  his 
statue  of  Athena  in  the  Parthenon,  and  the  one  of  Zeus  at 
Olympia.  The  nude  parts,  such  as  face  and  hands,  were 
of  ivory,  while  the  armour  and  drapery  were  of  beaten 
gold.  The  comparatively  small  weight  of  gold  used  by 
Phidias  is  very  remarkable  when  the  great  size  of  the 
statues  is  considered. 

A  graphic  representation  of  the  workshop  of  a  Greek 
sculptor  in  bronze  is  given  on  a  fictile  vase  now  in  the 
Berlin  Museum  ^see  Gerhard's  TrinkschaZen,  plates  xii., 
sdii.).  One  man  is  raking  out  the  fire  in  a  high  furnace, 
while  another  behind  is  blowing  the  bellows.  Two  others 
are  smoothing  the  surface  of  a  statue  with  scraping  tools, 
formed  like  a  strigiL  A  fourth  is  beating  the  arm  of  an 
unfinished  figure,  the  head  of  which  lies  at  the  workman's 
feet.  Pemaps  ihe  most  important  of  early  Greek  works  in 
cast  bronze,  both  from  its  size  and  great  hLstorical  interest, 
is  the  bronze  pillar  (now  in  the  Hippodrome  at  Constanti- 
nople) which  was  erected  to  commemorate  the  victory  of 
the  allied  Greek  states  over  the  Persians  at  Plataea  in  479 
B.C.  (see  Newton's  Travels  in  the  Levant).  It  is  in  the  form 
of  three  serpents  twisted  together,  and  before  the  heads 
were  broken  off  was  at  least  20  feet  high.  It  is  cast 
hollow,  all  in  one  piece,  and  has  the  names  of  the  allied 
states  engraved  on  the  lower  part  of  the  coils.  Its  size 
and  the  beauty  of  its  surface  show  great  technical  sldll  in 
the  founder's  art.  On  it  once  stood  the  gold  tripod  dedi- 
cated to  ApoUo  as  a  tenth  of  the  spoils.  It  is  described 
both  by  Herodotus  and  Pausanias. 

Marble  was  comparatively  but  little  used  by  the  earlier 
Greek  sculptors,  and  even  Myron,  a  rather  older  man  than 
Phidias,  seems  to  have  executed  nearly  all  his  most  im- 
portant statues  in  metaL 

.  Additional  richness  was  given  to  Greek  bronze-work  by 
-old  or  silver  inlay  on  hps,  eyes,  and  borders  of  the  dress ; 
one  remarkable  statuette  in  the  British  Museum  has  eyes 
inlaid  with  diamonds,  and  fret-work  inlay  in  silver  on  the 
border  of  the  chiton. 

The  mirrors  of  the  Greeks  are  among  the  most  important 
specimens  of  their  anistio  metal-work.  These  are  bronze 
disks,  one  side  polished  to  serve  as  a  reflector,  and  the  back 
ornamented  with  engraved  outline  drawings,  often  of  great 
beauty  (see  Gerhard,  Etrmkisdie  Spiegel,  1843-67). 

The  Greek  workman,  in  fact,  was  incapable  of  making 
an  ugly  thing.  Whatever  the  metal  or  whatever  the  object 
formed,  whether  armour,  personal  ornaments,  or  domestic 
vessels,  the  form  was  always  specially  adapted  to  its  use, 
the  ornament  natural  and  graceful,  so  that  the  commonest 
water-jar  was  a  delight  alike  to  him  who  made  it  and  those 
who  used  it. 

In  metal-work,  as  in  other  arts,  the  Romans  were  pupils 
and  imitators  of  the  Greeks.  0\nng  to  the  growth  of  that 
spirit  of  luxury  which  in  time  caused  the  extinction  of  the 
fioman  empire,  a  considerable  demand  arose  for  magni- 


ficent articles  of  gold  and  silver  plate.  The  finest  Bpcii- 
mens  of  these  that  still  exist  are  the  very  beautiful  set  of 
silver  plate  found  buried  near  Hildcsheim  in  1869,  now  in 
the  Berlin  Museum.  Thay  consist  of  drinking  vessels, 
bowls,  vases,  ladles,  and  other  objects  of  siKer,  parcel-gilt, 
and  exquisitely  decorated  with  figures  in  relief,  both  cast 
and  repouss^.  There  are  electrotyjjes  of  these  in  the 
South  Kensington  Museum. 

When  the  seat  of  the  empire  was  changed  from  Borne 
to  Byzantium,  the  latter  city  became  the  chief  centre  for 
the  production  of  artistic  metal-work.  From  Byzantium 
the  special  skill  in  this  art  -was  transmitted  in  the  9th  and 
10th  centuries  to  the  Rhenish  provinces  of  Germany  and 
to  Italy,  and  thence  to  the  whole  of  Western  Europe  ;  in 
this  way  the  18th-century  smith  who  wrought  the  Hamp- 
ton Court  iron  gates  was  the  heir  to  the  mechanical  skill' 
of  the  ancient  metal-workers  of  Phoenicia  and  Greece. 

In  that  period  of  extreme  degradation  into  which  all  the 
higher  arts  fell  after  the  destruction  of  the  Roman  empire, 
though  true  feeling  for  beauty  and  knowledge  of  the 
subtleties  of  the  human  form  remained  for  centuries  almost 
dormant,  yet  at  Byzantium  at  least  there  still  survived 
great  technical  skill  and  power  in  the  production  of  all 
sorts  of  metal-work.  In  the  age  of  Justinian  (first  half 
of  the  6th  century)  the  great  church  of  St  Sophia  at 
Constantinople  was  adorned  with  an  almost  incredible 
amount  of  wealth  and  splendour  in  the  form  of  screens, 
altars,  candlesticks,  and  other  ecclesiastical  furniture  made- 
of  massive  gold  and  silver. 

Metal-Work  in  Italy.— It  was  therefore  to  Byzantium 
that  Italy  turned  for  metal-workers,  and  especially  for  gold- 
smiths, when,  in  the  6th  to  the  8th  centuries,  the  basilica 
of  St  Peter's  in  Rome  was  enriched  with  masses  of  gold 
and  silver  for  decorations  and  fittings,  the  gifts  of  many 
donors  from  Belisarius  to  Leo  HL,  the  mere  catalogue  of 
which  reads  like  a  tale  from  the  Arabian  Nights.  The 
gorgeous  Pala  d'Oro,  still  in  St  Mark's  at  Venice,  a_gold 
retable  covered  with  delicate  reliefs  and  enriched  with 
enamels  and  jewels,  was  the  work  of  Byzantine  artists 
during  the  11th  century.  This  work  was  in  progress  for 
more  than  a  hundred  years,  and  was  set  in  its  place  in 
1106  A.D.,  though  still  unfinished  (see  Bellomo,  Pala  d'Oro 
di  S.  Mareo,  1847). 

It  was,  however,  especially  for  the  production  of  bronze 
doors  for  churches,  ornamented  with  panels  of  cast  work 
in  high  relief,  that  Italy  obtained  the  services  of  Byzantine 
workmen  (see  Garrucci,  Arte  Cristiana,  1-872-82).  One 
artist  named  Staurachios  produced  many  works  of  this 
class,  some  of  which  stQl  exist,  such  as  the  bronze  doors 
of  the  cathedral  at  Amalfi,  dated  1066  A.D.  Probably 
by  the  same  artist,  though  his  name  was  spelled  dif- 
ferently, were  the  bronze  doors  of  San  Paolo  fuori  le 
Mura,  Rome,  careful  di-awings  of  which  exist,  though  the 
originals  were  destroyed  in  the  fire  of  1824.  Other 
important  examples  exist  at  Ravello  (1197),  Salerno 
(1099),  iVmalfi  (1062),  Atrani  (1087) ;  and  doors  at  Mon-' 
realo  i»  Sicily  and  at  Trani,  signed  by  an  ai-tist  named 
Barisanos  (end  of  the  12th  century);  the  reliefs  on  these 
last  are  remarkable  for  "expression  and  dignity,  in  spite 
of  their  early  rudeness  of  modelling  and  ignoitince  of  the 
human  figure. 

Most  of  these  works  in  bronze  were  enriched  with  fine' 
lines  inlaid  in  silver,  and  in  some  cases  with  a  kind  of 
niello  or  enamel.  The  technical  skill  of  these  Byzantine 
roetal-'workers  was  soon  acquired  by  native  Italian  artists, 
wfio  produced  many  important  works  in  bronze  similar  in 
style  and  execution  to  those  of  tlio  Byzantine  Greeks. 
Such,  for  example,  are  the  bronze  doors  of  San  Zenone  at 
'Verona  (unlike  the  others,  of  repous.si;  not  cast  work)  ;  those 
C'f  the  Duomo  of  Pisa,  cast  in  1  ISO  by  Bonanmis,  and  of  the 


M  E  T  A  L-W  0  R  K 


75 


Dnomo  of  Troia,  the  last  made  in  the  beginning  of  the  12th 
oentoiy  by  Oderisiua  of  Benevento.  Another  artist  named 
Roger  of  Amnlfi  worked  in  the  same  way;  and  in  the 
year  1219  the  brothers  Hubertos  and  Fetrus  of  Piacenza 
cast  the  bronze  door  for  one  of  the  side  chapels  in  San 
Qiovanni  in  Laterano.  One  of  the  most  important  early 
roecimens  of  metal-work  b  the  gold  and  silver  altar  of 
mnf  Ambrogio  in  Hilan.  In  character  of  work  and 
desiga  it  resembles  the  Yenice  Fala  d'Oro,  but  is  still 
earlier  in  date,  being  a  gift  to  the  church  from  Arch- 
bishop Angilbert  IL  in  835  A.D.  (see  Du  Sommerard, 
and  D'Aginconrt,  Itoyen  Age).  It  is  signed  wolvinivs 
HAOISTEB  PHASES ;  nothing  is  known  of  the  artist,  but  he 
probably  belonged  to  the  semi-£yzantine  school  of  the 
Rhine  provinces ;  according  to  Dr  Bock  he  was  an  Anglo- 
Saxon  goldsmith.  It  is  a  very  sumptuous  work,  the  front 
of  the  altar  being  entirely  of  gold,  with  repouss^  reliefs 
and  cloisonne  enamels ;  the  back  and  ends  are  of  silver, 
with  gold  ornaments.  On  the  front  are  figures  of  Christ 
and  the  twelves  apostles ;  the  ends  and  back  have  reliefs 
illustrating  the  life  of  St  Ambrose. 

The  most  important  existing  work  of  art  in  metal  of  the 
13th  century  is  the  great  candelabrum  now  in  Milan 
cathedral  It  \s  of  gilt  bronze,  more  than  H  feet  high; 
it  has  seven  branches  for  candles,  and  its  upright  stem 
is  supported  on  four  winged  dragons.  For  delicate  and 
spirited  execution,  together  with  refined  gracefulness  of 
design,  it  is  uns'urpassed  by  any  similar  work  of  art.  Every 
one  of  the  numerous  little  figures  with  which  it  is  adorned 
is  worthy  of  study  for  the  beauty  and  expression  of  the  face, 
and  the  dignified  arrangement  of  the  drapery  (see  fig.  3). 


Flo.  8. — Boss  from  the  Mibne.<ie  Candelabmm. 


ITie  semi-conventional  open  scroll-work  of  branches  and 
fruit  which  wind  around  and  frame  each  figure  or  group  is 
devised  with  the  most  perfect  taste  and  richness  of  fancy, 
while  each  minute  part  of  this  great  piece  of  metal-work 
is  finished  with  all  the  care  that  could  have  been  bestowed 
on  the  smallest  article  of  gold  jewellery.  Though  some- 
thing in  the  grotesque  dragons  of  the  base  recalls  the 
Byzantine  sqhool,  yet  the  beauty  of  the  figures  and  the 
keen  feeling  for  graceful  curves  and  folds  in  the  drapery 
point  to  a  native  Italian  as-being  the  artist  who  produced 
this  wonderful  work  of  art.  There  is  a  cast  in  the  South 
Kensington  Museum. 

During  the  13th  and  14th  centuries  in  Italy  the  wide- 
spread influence  of  Niccolo  Fisano  and  his  school  encouraged 
the  spulptor  to  use  marble  rather  than  bronze  for  his  work. 
At  this  period  wrought  iron  came  into  general  use  in  the 
form  of  screens  for  chapels  and  tombs,  and  grills  for 
windows.  These  are  mostly  of  great  beauty,  and  show 
itmarkable-skill  in  the  use  of  the  hammer,  as  well  as  power 


in  adapting  the  design  to  the  requirements  of  the  material 
Among  the  finest  examples  of  this  sort  of  work  are  the 
screens  round  the  tombs  of  the  Scala  family  at  Verona, 
1350-75, — a  sort  of  net-work  of  light  cusped  quatrefoils,- 
each  filled  up  with  a  small  ladder  (scala)  in  allusion  to 
the  name  of  the  family.  The  most  elaborate  specimen  of 
this  wrought  work  is  the  screen  to  the  Rinuocini  chapel  in 
Santa  Croce,  Florence,  of  1371,  in  which  moulded  pillars 
and  window-like  tracery  have  been  wrought  and  modelled 
by  the  hammer  with  extraordinary  skill  (see  Wyatt,  Metal- 
Work  of  Middle  Ages).  Of  about  the  same  date  are  the 
almost  equally  magnificent  screens  in  Sta  Trinita,  Florence, 
and  at  Sien^  across  the  chapel  in  the  Palazzo  Pubblica 
The  main  part  of  most  of  these  screens  is  filled  in  with 
quatre-foils,  and  at  the  top  is  an  open  frieze  formed  of 
plate  iron  pierced,  repouss^  and  enriched  with  engraving. 
In  the  14th  century  great  quantities  of  objects  for 
ecclesiastical  use  were  produced  in  Italy,  some  on  a  large 
scale,  and  mostly  the  works  of  the  best  artists  of  the  time. 


Fia  4. — Silver  Repousse'  Reliefs  from  the  Pistoia  Retable. 

The  silver  altar  of  the  Florence  baptistery  is  one  of  the 
chief  of  these;  it  was  begun  in  the  first  half  of  the  14th 
century,  and  not  completed  till  after  1477  (see  Gaz.  dee 
Beaux  Arts,  Jan.  1883).  A  whole  series  of  the  greatest 
artists  in  metal  laboured  on  it  in  succession,  among  whom 
were  Orcagna,  Ghiberti,  Verrocchio,  Ant.  Pollajuolo,  and 
many  others.  It  has  elaborate  reliefs  in  repouss^  work,  cast 
canopies,  and  minute  statuettes,  with  the  further  enrich- 
ment of  translucent  coloured  enamels.  The  silver  altar 
and  retable  of  Pistoia  cathedral  (see  fig.  4),  and  the  great 
shrine  at  Orvieto,  are  works  of  the  same  class,  and  of  equal 
importance. 

Whole  volumes  might  be  devoted  to  the  magnificent 
works  in  bronze  produced  by  the  Florentine  artists  of  this 
century,  works  such  as  the  baptistery  gates  by  Ghiberti,' 
and  the  statues  of  Verrocchio,  Donatello,  and^HRDy 
others,  but  these  come  rather  under  the  bead  of  sculpture.- 


76 


METAL- WORK 


Some  very  magnificent  bronze  screens  were  produced  at 
this  time,  especially  that  in  Prato  cathedral  by  Simone, 
brother  of  DonatcUo,  in  1444^01,  and  the  screen  and  bronze 
ornaments  of  the  tomb  of  Piero  and  Giovanni  dei  Medici 
in  San  Lorenzo,  Florence,  by  Verrocchio,  in  1472. 

At  the  latter  part  of  the  15th  century  and  the  beginning 
of  the  16th  the  PoUajuoli,  Ricci,  and  other  artists  devoted 
much  labour  and  artistic  skill  to  the  production  of  candle- 
sticks and  smaller  objects  of  bronze,  such  as  door-knockers, 
many  of  which  are  works  of  the  greatest  beauty.  The 
candlesticks  in  the  Certosa  near  Pavia,  and  in  the  cathedrals 
of  Venice  and  Padua,  are  the  finest  examples  of  these. 

Niccolo  Grossi,  who  worked  in  wrought  iron  under  the 
patronage  of  Lorenzo  dei  ^ledici,  produced  some  wonderful 
specimens  of  metal-work,  such  as  the  candlesticks,  lanterns, 
and  rings  fi-xed  at  intervals  round  the  outside  of  the  great 
palaces  (see  fig.  5).     The  Strozzi  palace  in  Florence  and 


Fia.  5.— WrougTit  Iron  Candle-Pricket ;  late  15th-century. 
Florentine  T\'ork. 

the  Palazzo  del  Magnifico  at  Siena  have  fine  specimens  of 
these, — the  former  of  wrought  iron,  the  latter  in  cast  bronze. 

At  Venice  fine  work  in  metal,  such  as  salvers  and  vases, 
was  being  produced,  of  almost  Oriental  design,  and  in 
some  cases  the  work  of  resident  Arab  artificers.  Li  the 
16th  century  Benvenuto  Cellini  was  supremo  for  skill  in 
the  production  of  enamelled  jewellery,  plate,  and  even  larger 
works  of  sculpture  (see  Plon's  Ben.  Cellini,  1882),  and  John 
of  Bologna  in  the  latter  part  of  the  same  century  inherited 
to  some  ertent  the  skill  and  artistic  power  of  the  great 
15f,h-contury  artists.  Since  that  time  Italy,  like  other 
countries,  has  produced  little  metal-work  of  real  value. 

Spain. — From  a  very  early  period  the  metal-workers  of 
Spain  have  been  distinguished  for  their  skill,  esjjceially  in 
the  use  of  the  precious  metals.  A  very  remarkable  set  of 
epecimens  of  goldsmith's  work  of  tlie  7th  century  are  the 
deven  votive  crowns,  two  crosses,  and  other  objects  found 


in  1858  at  Guarrazar,  and  now  presen-ed  at  Madrid  and  in 
Pai-is  in  the  Cluny  Museum  (see  Du  Sommerard,  Musce  ck 
Clnny,  1852).  ilagnificent  works  in  silver,  such  as  shrines, 
altar  cros.ses,  and  church  vessels  of  all  kinds,  were  pro- 
duced in  Spain  from  the  14th  to  the  16th  century, — 
especially  a  number  of  sumptuous  tabernacles  (custodia) 
for  the  host,  magnificent  examples  of  which  still  exiBt 
in  the  cathedrals  of  Toledo  and  Seville.  The  bronae 
and  wrought  iron  screens — ryas,  mostly  of  the  15th 
and  16th  centuries — to  be  found  in  almost  every  im- 
portant church  in  Spain  are  very  fine  examples  of  metal- 
work.  They  generally  have  moulded  rails  or  ballusters, 
and  rich  friezes  of  pierced  and  repoussd  work,  the  whole 
being  often  thickly  plated  with  silver.  The  common  use 
of  metal  for  puljiits  is  a  peculiarity  of  Spain;  they  are 
sometimes  of  bronze,  as  the  pairs  in  Burgos  and  Toledo 
cathedrals,  or  in  wrought  iron,  like  those  at  Zamora  and 
in  the  church  of  San  Gil,  Burgos.  The  great  candelabrum 
or  ienehrarium  in  Seville  cathedral  is  the  finest  speci- 
men of  16th-cc:ntury  metal-work  in  Spain ;  it  was  mainly 
the  work  of  Bart.  Morel  in  1562.  It  is  of  cast  bronze 
enriched  with  delicate  scroll-work  foliage,  and  with  num- 
bers of  well-modelled  statuettes,  the  general  effect  being 
very  rich  and  graceful.  Especially  in  the  art  of  metal- 
work  Spain  was  much  influenced  in  the  15th  and  16th 
centuries  by  both  Italy  and  Germany,  so  that  numberless 
Spanish  objects  [iroduced  at  that  time  owe  little  or  nothing 
to  native  designers.  At  an  earlier  period  Arab  and  Moor- 
ish influence  is  no  less  apparent. 

England. — In  Saxon  times  the  English  metal-workers, 
especially  of  the  precious  metals,  possessed  great  skill,  and 
ajjpear  to  have  produced  shrines,  altar-frontals,  retables, 
and  other  ecclessiastical  furnituro  of  considerable  size  and 
magnificence. 

Dunstan,  archbishop  of  Canterburj-  (925-988),  like 
Bernward,  bishop  of  Hildesheim  a  few  years  later,  and  St 
Eloi  of  Franco  three  centuries  earlier,  was  himself  a  skilful 
worker  in  all  kinds  of  metal.  The  description  of  the  gold 
and  silver  retable  given  to  the  high  altar  of  Ely  by  Abbot 
Theodwin  in  the  1 1th  century,  shows  it  to  have  been  a  large 
and  elaborate  piece  of  work  decorated  with  many  reliefs 
and  figures  in  the  round.  Jn  1241  Henry  TIL  gave  the 
order  for  the  great  gold  shrine  to  contain  the  bones  of 
Edward  the  Confessor  (see  W.  Burges  in  Gleanings  from. 
Westinin.'iter).  It  was  the  work  of  members  of  the  Otho 
family,  among  whom  the  goldsmith's  and  coiner's  crafts 
appear  to  have  been  long  hereditary.  Countless  other 
important  works  in  the  precious  metals  adorned  every 
abbey  and  cathedral  church  in  the  kingdom. 

In  the  13th  century  the  English  workers  in  wrought 
iron  were  especially  skilful  The  grill  over  the  tomb  of 
Queen  Eleanor  at  Wc.stmiiifter,  by  Thomas  de  Lcghton, 
made  about  1294,  is  a  remarkable  example  of  skill  in  weld- 
ing and  modelling  with  the  hainmnr  (sr.i-  fig.  6). 

The  rich  and  graceful  iron  hinges,  made  often  for  small 
and  out-of-the-way  country  churches,  are  a  large  and 
important  class  in  the  list  of  English  -nTought  iron-work. 
Those  on  the  refectory  door  of  Merton  College,  Oxford,,  are 
a  beautiful  and  well-preserved  example  dating  from  the 
14  th  century. 

More  mechanical  in  execution,  though  still  very  rich  in 
effect,  is  that  sort  of  iron  tracery  work  produced  by  cutting 
out  patterns  in  plate,  and  superimposing  one  plate  over 
the  other,  so  as  to  give  richness  of  effect  by  the  shadows 
jiroduccd  by  these  varjnng  planes.  The  screen  by  Henry 
V.'s  tomb  at  Westminster  is  a  good  early  specimen  of  thia 
land  of  work. 

The  screen  to  Bishop  West's  chapel  at  Ely,  and  that 
round  Edward  IV. 's  U>m\i  at  Windsor,  both  made  towards 
the  end   of  the  15th  centurj',   ore  the  most  magnificent 


M'ETAL-WORK 


77 


English  (jxamples  of  wrought  iron,  in  which  every  art  and 
feat  of  skill  known  to  the  smith  has  been  brought  into 
play  to  give  variety  and  richness  to  the  work. 
I  Much  WTought-iron  work  of  great  beauty  was  produced 
at  the  beginrung  of  the  18th  century,  especially  under  the 
superintendence  of  Sir  Christopher  Wren  (see  Ebbetts, 
Iron  Work  of  i7lh  and  I8(h  Centuries,  1880).  Large 
flowing  leaves  of  acanthus  and  other  plants  were  beaten 
out  with  wonderful  spirit  and  beauty  of  curve.  The 
gates  from  Hampton  Court  arc  the  finest  examples  of 
this  class  of  work  (see  fig.  7). 

From  an  early  period  broiue  and  latten  (a  variety  of 
brass)  were  much  used  in  England  for  the  smaller  objects 
both  of  ecclesiastical  and  domestic  use,  but  except  for 
tombs  and  lecterns  were  but  little  useu  on  a  large  scale  till 
the  16th  century.  The  full-length  recumbent  effigies  of 
Henry  III.  and  Queen  Eleanor  at  Westminster,  cast  in 
bronze  by  the  "  cire  perdue  "  process,  and  thickly  gUt,  are 
equal,  if  not  superior,  in  artistic  beauty  to  any  sculptor's 
work  of  the  same  period  (end  of  the  13th  century)  that  was 
produced  in  Italy  or  elsewhere.     These  effigies  are  th6  work 


Fig.  6.— Part  of  the  "Eleanor  Grill." 

of  an  Englishman  named  William  Torel  (see  Westminster 
Gleanings).  The  gates  to  Henry  VII.'s  chapel,  and  the 
screen  round  his  tomb  at  Westminster  (see  fig.  8),  are  very 
elaborate  and  beautiful  examples  of  "  latten  "  work,  show- 
ing the  greatest  technical  skiU  in  the  founder's  art.  In 
latten  also  were  produced  the  numerous  monumental 
brasses  of  which  about  two  thousand  still  exist  in  England. 
Though  a  few  were  made  in  the  13th  century,  yet  it  was 
not  till  the  14th  that  they  came  into  general  use.  They 
axe  made  of  cast  plates  of  brass,  with  the  design  worked 
upon  them  with  the  chisel  and  graver.  All  those,  how- 
ever, to  be  seen  in  English  churches  are  not  of  native 
work — great  quantities  of  them  being  Flemish  imports  (see 
Cotman,  Waller,  and  BouteU  on  Monumental  Brasses). 

In  addition  to  its  chief  use  as  a  roof  covering,  lead  was 
sometimes  used  in  England  for  making  fonts,  generally 
tub-shaped,  with  figures  cast  in  relief.  Many  examples 
'■xist :  e.g.,  at  Tidenham,  Gloucestershire ;  Warborough  and 
Dorchester,  Oion ;  Chirton,  Wilts ;  and  other  places. 


Germany. — Unlike  England,  Germany  in  the  10th  ana 
11th  centuries  produced  large  and  elaborate  works  in  cast 
bronze,  especially  doors  for  chuiches,  much  resembling 
the  contemporary  doors  made  in, Italy  under  Byzantine 
influence.  Bernward,  bishop  of  Hildesheim,  992-1022, 
was  especially  skilled  in  this  work,  and  was  much  influenced 
in  design  by  a  visit  to  Rome  in  the  suite  of  Otho  III.  The 
bronze  column  \nX\i  winding  reliefs  now  at  HUdesheim 
was  the  result  of  his  study  of  Trajan's  column,  and  the 
bronze  door  which  he  made  for  his  own  cathedi-al  shows 
classical  influence,  especially  in  the  composition  of  the 
drapery  of  the  figures  in  the  panels. 


Fio.  7. — Part  of  one  of  the  Hampton  Court  Gates. 

The  bronze  doors  of  Augsburg  (1047-72)  are  similar 
in  style.  The  bronze  tomb  of  Rudolph  of  Swabia  in 
Mersburg  cathedral  (1080)  is  another  fine  work  of  the 
same  school.  The  production  of  works  in  gold  and  silver 
was  also  carried  on  vigorously  in  Germany.  The  shrine  of 
the  three  kings  at  Cologne  is  the  finest  surviving  example. 

At  a  later  time  Augsburg  and  Nuremberg  were  the  chief 
centres  for  the  production  of  artistic  works  in  the  various 
metals.  Herman  Vischer,  in  the  15th  century,  and  his  son 
and  grandsons  wereveryremarkable  as  bronze  founders.  The 
font  at  Wittenberg,  decorated  with  reliefs  of  the  apostles, 
was  the  work  of  the  elder  Vischer,  while  Peter  and  his  son 
produced,  among  other  important  works,  the  shrine  of  St 
Sebald  at  Nuremberg,  a  work  of  great  finish  and  of 
astonishing  richness  of  fancy  in  its  design  (see  Doebner, 
C/iristUches  KunstUatt,  1866,  Nos.  10-12).  The  tomb 
of  Maximilian  I.,  and  the  statues  round  it,  at  Innsbruck, 
begun  in  1521,  are  perhaps  the  most  meritoriotis  German 
work  of  this  class  in  the  16th  century,  and  show  consider- 
able Italian  influence. 


78 


METAL-WORK 


In  wrought  iron  tho  German  smiths,  especially  during 
the  15th  century,  greatly  excelled.  Almost  peculiar  to 
Germany  is  the  use  of  wrought  iron  for  grave-crosses  and 
sepulchral  monuments,  of  which  the  Nuremberg  and  other 
cemeteries  contain  fine  examples.  Many  elaborate  well- 
canopies  were  made  in  wrought  iron,  and  gave  full  play  to 


ii»rt«c  m\n 


most  are  now  destroyed,  but  a  fine  specimen  still  exists 
at  Westminster  on  tho  tomb  of  William  de  Valence  (1296). 
In  ornamental  iron-work  for  doors  the  French  smiths  were 
pre-eminent  for  the  richness  of  design  and  skilful  treatment 
of  their  metal.  No  examples  probably  surpass  those  on 
the  west  doors  of  Notre  Darao  in  Paris^now  unhappily 
much  falsified  by  restoration.  The  crockets  and  finiala 
on  the  flfeches  of  Amiens  and  Eheims  are  beautiful  speci- 
mens of  a  highly  ornamental  treatment  of  cast  lead,  for 
which  France  was  especially  celebrated.  In  most  respects, 
however,  the  development  of  the  various  kinds  of  metai- 
j  working  went  through  much  the  same  stages  as  in  England.' 
Persia  and  Damascus. — The  metal-workers  of  the  East? 
e-speciaily  in  brass  and  steel,  were  renowned  for  their  skill 


-1    ilulU  uij  MI 


the  fancy  and  invention  of  tho  smith.  The  celebrated 
15th-century  example  over  tho  well  at  Antwerp,  attributed 
to  Quintin  Massys,  is  the  finest  of  these. 

France. — From  the  time  of  the  Romans  the  city  of 
Limoges  has  been  celebrated  for  all  .sorts  of  metal-work, 
and  especially  for  brass  enriched  with  enamel.  In  the 
13th  and  14th  centuries  many  life-size  sepulchral  effigies 
were  made  of  beaten  copper  or  bronze,  and  ornamented  by 
various-coloured  "champlcv6"  enamels.  The  beauty  of 
these  effigies  led  to  their  being  imported  into  England ; 


Fig.  9. — Brass  Vase,  pierced  and  gUt ;  17th  century  Persian  work. 

even  in  the  time  of  Theophilus,  the  monkish  writer  on  the 
subject  in  the  13th  century.  IBut  it  was  during  the  reign 
of  Shah  Abbas  I.  (d.  1628)  that  the  greatest  amount  of 
fikill  both  in  design  and  execution  was  reached  by  the 
Persian  workmen.  Delicate  pierced  vessels  of  gilt  brass, 
enriched  by  tooling  and  inlay  of  gold  and  silver,  wer« 
among  the  chief  specialties  of  the  Persians  (see  fig.  9). 

A  proce.ss  called  by  Europeans  "damascening"  (from 
Damascus,  the  chief  sea'  of  tho  export)  was  used  to  produce 
very  delicate  and  rich  surface  ornament.  A  pattern  was 
incised  with  a  graver  in  iron  or  steel,  and  then  gold  wire 
was  beaten  into  the  sunV  lines,  the  whole  surface  being 
then  smoothed  and  polisbod.  In  tho  time  of  Cellini  this 
process  was  copied  in  Itaiy,  and  largely  used,  especially 
for  tho  decoration  of  weapons  and  armour.  The  repouss6 
process  both  for  brass  and  silver  was  much  used  by  Oriental 
workers,  and  even  now  fine  works  of  this  class  are  pro- 
duced in  the  East,  old  designs  still  bein.j  adhered  to. 


M  E  T  — M  E  T 


79 


Seemi  Metal- Worh — In  modern  Europe  generally  the 
arts  of  metal-working  both  as  regards  design  and  tech- 
nical bMI  are  not  in  a  flourishing  condition.  The  great 
bronze  lions  of  the  Nelson  monument  in  London  are  a  sad 
example  of  the  present  low  state  of  the  founder's  art. 
Coarse  sand-casting  in  England  now  takes  the  place  of  the 
delicate  "cire perdue"  process. 

Some  attempts  have  lately  been  made  in  (Jennany  to 
revive  the  art  of  good  wrought-iron  work.  The  Prussian 
gates,  bought  at  a  high  price  for  the  South  Kensington 
Museum,  a-e  large  and  pretentious,  but  unfortunately  are 
only  of  value  as  P  warning  to  show  what  wrought  iron 
ought  not  to  be.  Some  ILngUsh  recent  specimens  of  ham- 
mered work  are  more  hopeful,  and  show  that  one  or  two 
smiths  are  working  in  the  right  direction. 

LiUraiure, — Pkehistoric  :  "Worsaae,  Nordhke  Oldsageri  Kjoien- 
havn,  1854  ;  Perrin,  itttde  prehislorique—Age  du  brorne,  1870. 
Classical  :  Layard,  Nineveh  and  Babylon,  1853  ;  Lane's  aod 
■Wilkinson's  works  on  Ancient  Egypt;  Pliny,  Natural  History, 
book  x-xxiv. ;  Brondsted,  Den  Fikoroniske  Cisla,  1847  ;  Daremberg, 
Dictionnaire  dea  Anliquitis,  "Coelatura,"  in  course  of  publication  ; 
Gerhard,  various  monographs,  1843-67;  Miiller,  Etrusker,  &c.,  and 
other  works;  Ciampi,  DelV  Antica  Tcreutica,  1815.  Medieval: 
Digby  'Wyatt,  Metal-  fVork  of  the  Middle  Ages,  1849 ;  Shaw,  Orna- 
mental Metal- Work,  1836  ;  Drury  Fortnnm,  S.K.M.  Handbook  of 
Bronzes,  1877  ;  King,  Orfim-erie  et  ouvrages  en  metal  du  moyen 
dge,  1852-4 ;  Hefner-Alteneck,  Serrurerie  du  moyen  Age,  1869  ; 
Viollet-le-duc,  Diet,  du  -tnobilier,  "Serrurerie"  and  "  Oifevrerie," 
1858,  &c. ;  Lacroix,  Tr6sor  de  S.  Denis,  and  L'Art  du  moyen  dge 
(various  dates) ;  Karch,  Die  Ralhselbitder  an  der  Brcmcethtlre  zu 
Augsburg,  1869 ;  Krug,  EntwUrfe  fur  Gold-,  Silbcr-,  und  Bronze- 
Arbeiter  (no  date) ;  Linas,  Orfimerie  Merovingienne,  1864,  and 
Orfivrerie  du  XIII'^  SUcle,  1856;  Bordeaux,  Semirerie  dti 
moyen  dge,  1858  ;  Didron,  Mamcel  des  osuvres  de  bronze  el  d'or- 
fivrerie  du  moyen  dge,  1859;  Du  Somraerard,  Arts  au  'tnoyen  &ge, 
1833-46,  and  Musie  de  Cluny,  1852 ;  Durand,  Tresor  de  Viglise  de 
Sainl  Marc  d  Venise,  1862;  Albert  Way,  Gold  Rdahle  of  Basle, 
1843;  Rico  y  Sinobas,  Trabajos  de  metales,  1871;  Blanchard,  Porto 
du  Baptisttre  de  Florence,  1868 ;  Bock,  Die  Ooldschmiedekunst  dcs 
Mittelalters,  1855,  and  Kleinodien  des  Heil.-Riimischen  JteicTtes ; 
Jouy,  Zes  gemmes  et  les  joyaux,  1865 ;  Liibke,  Works  of  Peter 
Visscher,  1877  ;  Adelung,  Die  ThUrcn  zu  S.  Sophia  in  Novgorod, 
1824  ;  Wanderer,  Adam  Kraffl  and  his  School,  1868 ;  Nesbitt, 
"Bronze  door  of  Gnesen  Cathedral,"  Arch.  Jour.,  vol.  ix.;  Bossi, 
Treporle  di  brmao  di  Pisa ;  Digot,  articles  in  Bulletin  Uomtmental, 


vols,  xii  -xvi. ;  Catalogue  of  works  of  art  in  metal  exhibited  in 
1861  at  Ironmongers'  Hal) ;  Texier,  Dictionnaire  SOtfivrerie,  1867{ 
Virgil  Solis,  Designs  for  Gold-  and  Silver-Smiths,  1612  (facsimile 
reproduction,  1862).  PaAOTicAL  Treatises:  Tbeophilua,  Diver- 
sarum  Artium  Schedula;  Cellini,  Trattati  delV  Oreficeria  e  delta 
Scultura;  Vasari,  Tre  AHi  del  Disegjio,  part  ii,  Milanesi's  ed., 
1882;  Gamier,  Manuel  du  dseleur,  1869.  (J.  H.  H.) 

METAMOEPHOSIS.  This  term  has  been  employed 
in  several  distinct  senses  in  biology.  During  the  early 
part  of  the  century  it  was  constantly  used  to  include  the 
current  morphological  conceptions,  as,  for  instance,  of  the 
parts  of  a  flower  as  modified  or  "  metamorphosed  "  leaves, 
or  of  the  segments  of  a  skull  as  mo<ified  vertebrae. 
It  is  still  frequently  employed  to  denote  that  progressive 
change  from  the  general  to  the  special  undergone  by  all 
developing  tissues  and  organs  (see  Biology,  Embeyology), 
but  in  this  sense  is  conveniently  superseded  by  the  term 
"  difierentiation."  In  the  process  of  animal  development, 
two  types  are  broadly  distinguishable, — a  foetal  type,  in 
which  development  takes  place  wholly  or  in  greater  part 
either  within  the  egg  or  within  the  body  of  the  parent, 
and  a  larval  type,  in  which  the  young  are  born  in  a 
condition  more  or  less  differing  from  that  of  the  adult, 
while  the  adult  stage  again  is  reached  in  one  of  two  ways, 
either  by  a  process  of  gradual  change,  or  by  a  succession 
of  more  or  less  rapid  and  striking  transformations,  to 
which  the  term  metamorphosis  is  now  usually  restricted- 
Metamorphosis  is  generally  regarded  as  having  been 
brought  about  by  the  action  of  natural  selection,  partly  in 
curtailing  and  reducing  the  phases  of  development  (ao 
obvious  advantage  in  economy  of  both  structural  and 
functional  change),  and  partly  also  in  favouring  the 
acquirement  of  such  secondary  characters  as  are  advan- 
tageous in  the  struggle  for  existence.  Freshwater  and 
terrestrial  animals  develop  without  metamorjfcosis  much 
more  frequently  than  marine  members  of  the  same  group, 
a  circumstance  which  has  been  variously  explained.  For 
details  of  metamorphoses  see  the  articles  on  the  various 
groups  of  animals;  see  also  Balfour's  Comparative  Em- 
bryology, 1880-81. 


METAPHYSIC 


THE  term  metaphysic,  originally  intended  to  mark  the 
place  of  a  particular  treatise  in  the  collection  of 
Aristotle's  works,  has,  mainly  owing  to  a  misunderstanding, 
survived  several  other  titles, — such  as  "  First  Philosophy," 
"Ontology,"  and  "Theology,"  which  Aristotle  himself 
used  or  suggested.  Neo-Platonic  mystics  interpreted  it 
as  signifying  that  whi^b  is  not  mRrely  "after"  but 
"  beyond "  physics,  and  found  in  it  a  flt  designation 
f<3r  a  aiience  which,  as  they  held,  could  not  be  attained 
except  by  one  who  had  turned  his  back  upon  the  natural 
world.  And  writers  of  a  different  tendency  in  a  later 
time  gladly  accepted  it  as  a  convenient  nickname  for 
theories  which  they  regarded  as  having  no  basis  in 
experience,  in  the  same  spirit  in  which  the  great  German 
minister  Stein  used  the  analogous  title  of  "  metapolitics  " 
for  airy  and  unpractical  schemes  of  social  reform.  A  brief 
indication  of  the  contents  of  Aristotle's  treatise  may  enable 
ns  to  give  a  general  definition  of  the  science  which  was  first 
distinctly  constituted  by  it,  and  to  determine  in  what  sense 
the  subjects  which  that  science  has  to  consider  are  beyond 
"ature  and  experience. 

For  Aristotle,  metaphysic  is  the  science  which  has  to  do 
with  Being  as  such.  Being  in  general,  as  distinguished  from 
the  special  sciences  which  deal  with  special  forms  of 
Being.  There  are  certain  questions  which,  in  Aristotle's 
view,  we  have  a  right  to  ask  in  regard  to  everything  that 


presents  itself  as  real.  We  may  ask  what  is  its  ideal 
nature  or  definition,  and  what  are  the  conditions  of  its 
realization ;  we  may  ask  by  what  or  whom  it  was  produced, 
and  for  what  end ;  we  may  ask,  in  other  words,  for  the 
formal  and  the  material,  for  the  efficient  and  the  final 
causes  of  everything  that  is.  These  different  questions 
point  to  different  elements  in  our  notion  of  Being,  elements 
which  may  be  considered  in  their  general  relations  apart 
from  any  particular  case  of  their  union.  These,  therefore, 
the  first  philosophy  must  investigate.  But,  further,  this 
science  of  being  cannot  be  entirely  separated  from  the 
science  of  knowing,  but  must  determine  at  least  its  most 
general  principles.  For  the  science  that  deals  with  what 
b  most  universal  in  being  is,  for  that  very  reason,  dealing 
with  the  objects  which  are  most  nearly  akin  to  the 
intelligence.  These,  indeed,  are  not  the  objects  which  are 
first  presented  to  our  minds ;  we  begin  with  the  particular, 
not  the  universal,  with  a  irpwrov  rjfiiv  which  is  not  irpurrov 
tj)v<Tci ;  but  science  reaches  its  true  form  only  when  the 
order  of  thought  is  made  one  with  the  order  of  nature,  and 
the  particular  is  known  through  the  universal.  Yet  this 
conversion  or  revolution  of  the  intellectual  point  of  view 
is  not  to  be  regarded  as  an  absolute  change  from  error  to 
truth ;  for  Aristotle  holds  that  nikil  est  in  iniellectv  quod 
turn  priua  in  semu,  in  the  meaning  that  in  sense  perception 
there  is  already  the  working  of  that  discriminative  intelli- 


80 


M  E  T  A  P  H  Y  S  I  C 


gence'  which,  beginning  in  sense  perception,  with  the  dis- 
tinction of  particular  from  particular,  can  rest  only  when  it 
has  apprehended  things  in  their  universal  forms  or  defini- 
tions. Looking  at  knowledge  foiitiaUy,  the  highest  law  of 
thought,  the  law  of  contradiction  (or,  as  we  might  call  it,  to 
indicate  Aristotle's  meaning  more  exactly,  the  law  of  de- 
finition or  distinction),  is  already  implied  in  the  first  act  of 
perception  by  which  one  thing  is  distinguished  from  another. 
Looking  at  it  materiaUy,  the  reason  of  man  is  to  be  con- 
ceived as  potentially  all  that  is  knowable;  i.e.,  objects  are 
so  related  to  it  that  for  it  to  know  them  in  their  essential 
definitions  is  only  to  know  itself.  The  aim  of  science,  in 
this  view,  is  to  break  through  the  husk  of  matter,  and  to 
apprehend  things  in  their  forms,  in  which  they  are  one  with 
the  mind  that  knows  them.  Hence  also  it  follows  that  in 
rising  to  the  most  universal  science,  the  science  of  Being  in 
general,  the  mind  is  not  leaving  the  region  of  immediate 
experience,  in  which  it  is  at  home,  for  a  far-off  region  of 
abstractions.  Rather  it  is  returning  to  itself,  apprehend- 
ing that  which  is  most  closely  related  to  itself,  and  which 
therefore,  though  it  is  late  in  being  made  the  direct  object 
of  investigation,  is  yet  presucposed  in  all  that  is.  and  is 
known.2 

Metaphysic,  then,  is  the  science  which  djeals  with  the 
principles  which  are  presupposed  in  all  being  and  knowing, 
though,  they  are  brought  to  light  only  by  philosophy. 
Another  trait  completes  the  Aristotelian  account  of  it. 
It  is  theology,  or  the  scienca  of  God.  Now  God  is  v6r]<Ti.<; 
voijcrc<j5,  pure  self-consciousness,  the  absolute  thought  which 
is  one  with  its  object,  and  Ho  is  therefore  the  first  cause 
of  all  existence.  For,  while  the  world  of  nature  is  a  world 
of  motion  and  change,  in  which  form  is  realized  in  matter, 
this  process  of  the  finite  can  be  explained  only  ty  referring 
it  back  to  an  unmoved  mover,  in  whom  there  is  no  distinc- 
tion of  matter  and  form,  and  who  is,  therefore,  in  Aristotle's 
view,  to  be  conceived  as  pure  form,  the  purely  ideal  or 
theoretic  activity  of  a  consciousness  whose  object  is  itself. 
Such  a  conception,  however,  while  it  secures  the  independ- 
ence and  absoluteness  of  the  unmoved  mover,  by  removing 
him  from  all  relation  to  what  is  other  than  himself,  seems, 
to  make  his  connexion  with  the  world  inexplicable.  We 
can  on  this  theory  refer  the  world  to  God,  but  not  God  to 
the  world.  Hence  Aristotle  seems  sometimes  to  say  that 
God  is  the  first  mover  oniy  as  He  is  the  last  end  after  which 
all  creation  strives,  and  this  leads  him  to  attribufs  to 
nature  a  desire  or  mil  «'hich  is  directed  towards  the  good 
as  its  object  of  end.  ' 

Aristotle  then  brings  together  in  his  metaphysic  three 
elements  which  are  often  separated  from  each  other,  and 
the  connexion  of  which  is  far  from  being  at  once  obvious. 
It  is  to  him  the  science  of  the  first  principles  of  being. 
It  is  also  the  science  of  the  first  principles  of  knowing. 
Lastly,  it  is  the  science  of  God,  as  the  beginning  and  end 
of  all  things,  the  absolute  unity  of  being  and  thought,  in 
which  all  the  differences  of  finite  thought  and  existence 
are  either  excluded  or  overcome. 

To  some  this  description  of  the  conte'.\ts  of  Aristotle's 
treatise,  and  especially  the  last  part  of  it,  may  seem  to  be 
a  confirmation  of  all  the  worst  charges  brought  against 
metaphysic.  For  at  both  extremes  this  supposed  science 
seems  to  deal  with  that  which  is  beyond  experience,  and 
which  therefore  cannot  be  verified  by  it.  It  takes  us 
back  to  a  beginning  which  is  prior  to  the  existence  as  well 
as  to  the  consciousness  of  finite  objects  in  time  and  space, 
and  on  to  an  end  to  which  no  scientific  prophecy  based 
upon  our  consciousness  of  such  objects  can  reach.     In  the 

»  Ai/)'a/iit  KpiTtitl],  Aval.  Post.,  ii.  996. 

^  AVhat  is  snid  here  as  to  the  iutelligeoce  is  partly  taken  from  the 
De  Animfu  Tlie  necessary  qualifications  of  the  above  general  state- 
rM>i>»  of  Aristotle's  views  will  le  given  subieqicntly. 


former  aspect  of  it,  it  has  to  do  with  notions  so  abstrtct 
and  general  that  it  seems  as  if  they  could  not  be  fixed  or 
tested  by  reference  to  any  experience,  but  must  necessarily 
be  the  playthings  of  dialectical  sophistry.  In  the  iattc- 
aspect  of  it,  it  entangles  us  in  questions  as  fcs  the  final 
cause  and  ultimate  meaning  of  things,  questions  involving 
so  comprehensive  a  view  of  the  infinite  universe  in  which 
we  are  insignificant  parts  that  it  seems  as  if  any  attempt 
to  answer  them  must  be  for  us  vain  and  presumptuous.' 
On  both  sides,  therefore,  metaphysic  appears  to  be  an 
attempt  to  occupy  regions  which  are  beyond  the  habitable 
space  of.  the  intelligible  world — to  deal  with  ideas  which 
are  either  so  vague  and  abstract  that  they  cannot  be 
fastened  to  any  definite  meaning,  or  so  complex  and  far- 
reaching  that  they  can  never  by  any  possibility  be  verified. 
For  beings  like  men,  fixed  within  these  narrow  limits  of 
space  and  time,  the  true  course,  it  would  seem,  is  Uy 
"cultivate  their  gardens,"  asking  neither  whence  they 
come  nor  whither  they  go,  or  askir.g  It  only  within  the 
possible  limits  of  history  and  scientific  prophecy.  To  go 
back  to  the  beginning  or  on  to  the  end  is  beyond  them, 
even  in  a  temporal,  still  more  in  a  metaphysical,  sense. 
That  which  is  npCnov  <f>vcrei  escapes  us  even  more  absolutely 
than  the  prehistorical  and  pregeological  records  of  man 
and  his  world.  That  which  is  vmarov  ijivau  escapes  us 
even  more  absolutely  than  the  far-off  future  type  of 
civilization,  which  social  science  vainly  endeavours  to 
anticipate.  Oiu-  state  is  best  pictured  by  that  early 
Anglican  philosopher  who  compared  it  to  a  bird  flying 
through  a  lighted  room  "between  the  night  and  the 
night."  The  true  aim  of  philosophy  is,  therefore,  it 
would  seem,  to  direct  our  thoughts  to  the  careful  exam- 
ination and  utilization  of  the  narrow  space  allotted  to  us 
by  an  inscrutable  power,  and  with  scientific  self-restraint 
to  refrain  from  all  speculation  either  on  first  or  on  final 
causes. 

The  main  questions  as  to  the  possibility  and  the  nature  of 
metaphysic,  according  to  Aristotle's  conception  of  it,  may 
be  summed  up  under  two  heads.  We  may  ask  whether 
we  can  in  any  sense  reach  that  which  is  beyond  experience, 
and,  if  so,  whether  this'  "  beyond "  is  a  first  or  a  last 
principle,  a  pre-condition  or  a  final  cause  of  nature  and 
experience,  or  both.  The  former  question  branches  out 
into  two,  according  as  we  look  at  metaphysic  from  the 
objective  or  the  subjective  side,  or,  to  express  the  matter 
more  accurately,  according  as  we  consider  it  in  relation  to 
those  natural  objects  which  are  mtrely  objects  of  knovledgc, 
or  in  relation  to  those  spiritual  objects  which  ire  also 
subjects  of  knowledge.  We  shall  therefore  consider  meta- 
physic, first,  in  relation  to  science  in  general,  and,  secondly, 
in  relation  to  the  special  science  of  psychology.  The 
latter  question  also  has  two  aspects ;  for,  while  the  idea  of 
a  first  cause  or  principle  points  to  the  connexion  between 
metaphysic  and  logic,  the  idea  of  a  last  principle  or  final 
cau[£  connects  metaphysic  with  theolog)'.  We  shall  there- 
fore consider  in  the  third  place  the  relation  of  metaphysic 
to  logic,  and  in  the  fourth  place  its  relation  to  religion  and 
the  philosophy  of  religion.  _ 

1.  The  Relation  of  Metaphysic  to  Science. — The  beginnir/ga 
of  science  and  metaphysic  are  identical,  though  there  is  a 
sense  in  which  it  may  be  admitted  that  the  metaphysical 
comes  before  the  scientific  or  positive  era.  The  first  eflbrts 
of  philosophy  grasp  at  once  at  the  prize  of  absolute 
knowledge.  No  sooner  did  the  Greeks  become  dissatisfied 
with  the  pictorial  synthesis  of  mythology  by  which  their 
thoughts  were  first  lifted  above  the  confusion  of  particular 
things,  than  they  asked  for  one  universal  principle  which 
shoidd  explain  all  things.  The  Ionic  school  sought  to  find 
some  one  phenomenon  of  nature  which  might  be  used  as 
the  key  to  all  other  phenomena.     The  Eleatics,  seeing  the 


m.  EiT  A  !>  H  Y  !S  I  C" 


81- 


{utility  of  makinig  oae  finite  thing  the  explanation  oi  au 
other  finite  things,  tried  to  find  that  explanation  in  the  very 
sotion  of  unity  or  being  itself.  We  need  not  underestimate 
the  speculative  value  of  such  bold  attempts  to  sum  up  all 
the  variety  of  the  world  in  one  idea,  but  it  is  obvious  that 
they  rather  give  a  nam4  to  the  problem  than  solve  it,  or 
that  they  put  the  very  consciousness  of  the  problem  in  place 
of  the  solution  of  it^  Science  is  possible  only  if  we  can 
rise  from  thi3  particular  to  the  universal,  from  a  subjective 
view  of  things  as  they  immediately  present  themselves  to 
tis  in  perception  to  an  objective  determination  of  them 
through  laws  and  principles  which  have  no  special  relation 
to  any  particular  set  of  events  or  to  any  one  individual 
subject.  But  this  is  only  one  aspect  of  the  matter.  To 
advance  from  a  conception  of  the  world  in  ordine  ad 
■individuum  to  one  in  ordine  ad  universum,  and  so  to 
discount  and  eliminate  what  is  merely  subjective  atid 
accidental  in  our  first  consciousness  of  the  world,  is  the 
beginning  of  knowledge.  But  little  is  gained  unless  the 
universal,  which  we  reach  through  the  negation  of  the 
particulars,  is  more  than  their  mere  negation ;  unless  it 
is  a  law  or  principle  by  means  of  which  we  can  explain 
the  particulars.  Now  the  defect  of  early  philosophy 
was  that  its  universal  was  "the  one  beyond  the  many," 
not  the  "one  in  the  many," — in  other  words,  that  it  was 
not  a  law  or  principle  by  which  the  particulars  subsumed 
under  it  could  be  explained,  but  simply  the  abstraction 
of  an  element  common  to  them.  But  the  process  of 
knowledge  is  a  process  that  involves  both  analysis  and 
synthesis,  negation  and  reaffirmation  of  the  particulars 
with  which  we  start.  K  we  exaggerate  the  former  aspect 
of  it,  we  enter  upon  the  via  negaliva  of  the  mystics,  the 
way  of  pure  abstraction  and  negation,  which  would  open 
the  mind  to  the  ideal  reality  of  things  simply  by  shutting 
it  to  all  the  perceptions  of  sensible  phenomena.  And,  if  we 
follow  out  this  method  to  its  legitimate  result,  we  must 
treat  the  highest  abstraction,  the  aostraction  of  Being,  as  if 
it  were  the  sum  of  all  reality,  and  the  Neo-Platonic  ecstasy 
in  which  all  distinction,  even  the  distinction  of  subject  and 
object,  is  lost  as  the  only  attitude  of  mind  in  which  truth 
can  be  apprehended 

In  the  philosophy  of  the  Socratic  school  we  find  the  first 
attempt  at  a  systematic  as  opposed  to  an  abstract  theory — 
the  first  attempt  to  bring  together  the  one  and  the  many, 
and  so  to  determine  the  former  that  it  should  throw  light 
upon  the  latter.  Yet  even  in  Plato  the  tendency  to  oppose 
the  universal  to  the  particular  is  stronger  than  the 
tendency  to  relate  them  to  each  other,  and  in  some  of  iiis 
dialogues,  as,  e.g.,  in  the  Phsdo,  we  find  a  near  approach 
to  that  identification  of  the  process  of  knowledge  with 
abstraction  which  is  the  characteristic  of  mysticism. 
Aristotle,  therefore,  had  some  ground  for  taking  the  Platonic 
principle  that  "  the  real'  is  the  universal "  in  a  sense  which 
excludes  the  reality  of  the  individual.  Yet,  though  he 
detected  Plato's  error  in  opposing  the  universal  to  the 
particular,  and  though,  at  the  same  time,  he  did  not 
entirely  lose  sight  of  the  truth  which  Plato  had  exagger- 
ated, that  the  particular  is  intelligible  only  through  the 
universal,  Aristotle  was  not  able  to  escape  the  influence 
of  that  dualism  which  had  marred  the  philosophy  of  his 
predecessor.  'Hence  the  effect  of  his  protest  against  a 
philosophy  of  abstraction  was  partly  neutralized  by  his 
separation  between  the  divine  Being  as  pure  form  and 
nature  as  the  unity  of  form  and  matter,  and  again  by  his 
separation  of  the  pure  reason  which  apprehends  the 
forms  of  things  from  the  perceptions  of  sense  which  deal 
with  forms  realized  in  matter.  And  after  Aristotle's  time 
the  tendency  of  philosophy  was  more  and  more  to  withdraw 
from  contact  with  experience.  The  Neo-Platonic  philo- 
fopl^,  and  the  Christian  theology  which  was  so  strongly 


influenced  by  it,  contained,  indeed,  an  idea  of  the  recon- 
ciliation of  God  and  nature,  and  hence  of  form  and  matter, 
which -must  ultimately  be  fatal  to  dualism,  and  therefore  to 
the  method  of  mere  abstraction.  But  the  explicit  meaning 
of  the  philosophy  of  the  Middle  Ages  was  still  dualistic, 
and  the  mode  in  which  the  Aristotelian  formuto  were 
wrought  into  the  substance  of  Christian  doctrine  by  the 
scholastics  tended  more  and  more  to  conceal  that  idea  of 
the  unity  of  opposites  which  was  involved  in  Christianity.' 
Hence  medisevaJ  realism  presented,  in  its  most  one-sided, 
form,  the  doctrine  that  "  the  real  is  the  universal,"  meaning 
by  the  universal  nothing  more  than  the  abstract.  And,  as 
a  natural  consequence,  the  modem  insurrection  of  the 
scientific  spirit  against  scholasticism .  took  its  start  from 
an  equally  bald  and  one-sided  assertion  of  the  opposite 
principle,  that  "  the  real  is  the  individual,"  meaning  by 
that  the  individual  of  immediate  perception.  If  Platonism 
had  dwelt  too  exclusively  on  one  aspect  of  the  process  of 
knowledge,  viz.,  that  it  seeks  to  rise  above  the  particular,  the 
sensible,  the  subjective,  to  the  universal,  the  intelligible,  the 
objectivie,  as  if  in  the  latter  alone  were  reality  to  be  found, 
modern  men  of  science  learnt  from  their  fir.=it  nominalistic 
teachers  to  regard  the  universal  as  nothing  more  than  an 
abbreviated  expression  for  the  particulars,  and  science  itself 
as  a  mere  generalization  of  the  facts  of  sensible  perception. 
But.  this  view  of  scientific  knowledge,  as  a  mere  reaffirma- 
tion of  what  is  immediately  given  in  sense,  is  as  imperfect 
as  the  opposite  theory,  which  reduces  it  to  the  mere 
negation  of  what  is  so  given.  An  ideal  world  utterly 
and  entirely  divorced  from  the  phenomenal,  and  an  ideal 
world  which  is  simply  a  repetition  of  the  phenomenal, 
are  equally  meaningless.  The  processes  of  science  have 
both  a  negative  and  a  positive  side ;  they  involve  a  nega- 
tion of  the  particular  as  it  is  immediately  presented  in 
sense,  but  only  with  a  view  to  its  being  reafiirmed  with  a 
new  determination  through  the  universal.  The  fact  as  it 
is  first  presented  to  us  is  not  the  fact  as  it  is ;  for,  though 
it  is  from  the  fact  as  given  that  we  rise  to  the  knowledge 
of  the  law,  it  is  the  law  that  first  enables  lis  to  understand 
what  the  fact  really  means.  Our  first  consciousness  of 
things  is  thus,  not  an  immovable  foundation  upon  which 
science  may  build,  but  rather  a  hjijothetical  and  self-con- 
tradictory starting-point  of  investigation,  which  becomes 
changed  and  transformed  as  we  advance. 

The  nominalism  of  scientific  men  in  modern  times  is  due 
to  two  special  causes,  one  of  which  has  already  been 
mentionei  It  is  partly  due  to  the  traditions  of  a  time 
when  medieval  realism  was  the  great  enemy  of  science.. 
The  Baconian  protest  against  the  "  anticipation  of  nature  "" 
was  a  relative  truth  when  it  was  urged  against  a  class  of 
writers  who  supposed  that  true  theories  could  be  attained 
without  regard  to  facts ;  the  Baconian  assertion  of  the 
necessity  of  attending  to  axiomata  media  was  the  necessary 
correction  of  the  tendencies  of  mystics,  who  supposed  that 
philosophy  could  attain  its  end  by  grasping  at  once  at 
ab39lute  unity,  and  contented  themselves,  therefore,  with 
a  unity  which  did  nothing  to  explain  the  differences. 
But,  when  the  former  was  turned  into  the  dogmatic 
assertion  that  the  mind  is,  or  ought  to  be,  passive  in  the 
process  of  knowledge,  as  having  in  itself  no  principle  for  the 
explanation  of  things,  and  when  the  latter  was  turned  intO' 
the  dogmatic  assertion  that  science  can  only  proceed  from 
part  to  part  and  never  from  the  whole  to  the  parts,  these 
relative  truths  became  a  source  of  error.  And  this  error 
was  confirmed  and  increased  by  the  mistaken  views  of  those 
who  first  tried  to  correct  it.  For  these,  admitting  that 
scientific  truth  is  entirely  derived  from  external  experience, 
only  ventured  to  assert  the  existence  of  a  priori  knowledge 
alongside  of,  and  in  addition  to,  that  which  is  a  posteriori. 
In  other  words,  they  sought  in  inner  exnerience  a  basis  for 


82; 


MET  A  PHYSIC 


those  beliefs  which  outward  c>q)er!sncij  seemed  uauble  ;  i 
f^apport.  But  this  basis  was  soon  found  to  be  troacLtrou3. 
Introspection,  observation  of  the  inner  life  as  opposed  to 
and  distinguished  from  the  outer  life,  could  be  only  an 
observation  of  the  facts  of  the  individual  consciousness  as 
such;  and  to  base  religion  and  morality  on  such  a  founda- 
tion was  to  treat  God  and  right  as  subjective  phenomena, 
■which  do  not  necessarily  correspond  to  any  objective 
reality.  Nor  was  this  conclusion  really  evaded  by  the 
assertion  of  the  self-evidencing  necessity  of  such  ideas  and 
beliefs,  or  of  the  principles  upon  which  they  are  founded. 
For  this  necessity,  as  a  subjective  phenomenon,  might  be 
accounted  for  otherwise  than  by  the  supposition  of  their 
objective  validity.  Such  scepticism,  further,  was  favoured 
by  the  progress  of  science,  which,  as  it  advanced  from 
I;hysic3  to  biology  and  sociology,  became  more  and  more  in- 
consistent with  the  idea  of  an  ■"•bsoluto  breach  between  inner 
and  outer  experience,  and  narrowed  the  sphere  which  had 
iieen  hitherto  reserved  for  the  former.  Man,  it  '.vas  urged,  is 
but  a  part  in  a  greater  whole,  not  exempted  from  the  law 
<_.f  action  and  reaction  which  connects  all  parts  of  that 
a-hole  with  each  other.  His  individual  life  contains  only 
';,  few  links  in  a  chain  of  causation  that  goes  back  to  a 
beginning  and  onward  to  an  end  of  which  he  knows 
nothing.  And,  as  Spmoza  says,  vis  qua  unaquie'pie  res  in 
existcndo  perseverat  a  causis  exicrnis  injinite  svperatt.. 
Hence  to  treat  ideas  which  are  only  states  of  the  individual 
consciousness  as  the  explanation  of  tJie  world,  instead  cf 
itreating  them  as  phenomena  to  be  explained  by  its  relation 
to  that  world,  seemed  to  be  an  absurdity.  The  particular 
beliefs  and  tendencies  of  the  mind  were  to  be  regarded, 
not  as  ultimate  facts  in  reference  to  which  everything 
is  to  be  interpreted,  but  rather  as  facts  which  are 
themselves  to  be  referred  to  more  general  causes  and 
laws.  It  thus  appeared  that  the  attempt  to  divide  truth 
into  n.n  a  posteriori  and  an  a  priori  part,  the  latter  of 
whio*)  should  find  its  evidence  in  an  inner  experience 
as  the  former  in  an  outer  experience,  is  an  illusive  pro- 
cess. If  the  a  priori  is  reduced  to  the  level  of  the  a 
posteriori,  it  becomes  impossible  to  base  on  the  a  jmori 
any  beliefs  that  go  beyond  the  range  of  subjective 
experience.  If  the  self  and  the  not-self  are  taken  simply 
£3  different  finite  things,  which  we  can  observe  in  turn, 
their  relations  must  be  brought  vmder  the  general  laws  of 
tha  conne'rion  of  finite  things  with  each  other;  and  the 
phenomena  of  miud  must  be  treated,  like  the  phenomena 
of  matter,  as  facts  to  be  accounted  for  according  to  these 
laws.  I 

But  this  of  itself  indicates  a  way  of  escape  both  from 
the  introspective  theory  and  from  the  empiricism  tb  which 
it  is  opposed.  For  it  suggests  the  question — ^'\\Tiat  is  the 
source  of  those  very  laws  which  guide  the  procedure  of 
gcienco  in  ;»':ounting  for  facts,  psychological  facts  among 
others?  When  a  scieutiiSc  psychologist  of  the  modern 
school  attempts  to  show  how  by  habituation  of  the 
individual  and  the  race  the  necessity  of  thought  expressed 
in  the  law  of  causation  was  produced  i:i  the  minds  of  the 
present  generation  of  men,  it  is  obvious  that  his  whole 
investigation  and  argument  presuppose  the  law  wboso 
genesis  he  is  accounting  for.  A  glaring  instance  of  such 
circular  reasoning  is  found  in  the  writings  of  the  most 
prominent  representative  of  the  school  in  the  present  day. 
Jlr  Spencer  begins  by  laying  down  as  a  first  postulate  of 
science  that  necessity  of  thought  must  be  taken  as  a 
criterion  of  truth.  It  is  by  the  continual  aid  of  this 
postulate  that  ho  coiiolructs  his  system  of  nature,  and 
linally  his  psychological  theory  of  the  development  of 
consoiovsness  in  man.  Yet  the  main  object  of  this 
psychological  theory  seems  to  be  to  account  for  the  very 
necessities  with  which  the  author  starts.     Obvioirsly  such  a 


philosophy  contains  ekmc-ntj,  of  ivhich  the  author  ia' 
imperfectly  conscious ;  for  it  in^•olve3  that  mind  is  not 
only  the  last  product  but  the  first  presupposition  of 
nature,  or,  in  other  words,  that  in  mind  nature  retuma 
upon  its  iii-st  principle.  But  to  admit  this  is  at  once  to 
lift  the  conscious  being  as  such  above  the  position  which 
ho  would  hold  as  merely  a  finite  part  of  a  finite  world.  It 
is  to  assert  that  nature  has  an  essential  relation  to  a  con- 
sciousness which  is  developed  in  man,  ajid  that  in  tha 
growth  of  this  consciousness  we  have,  not  an  evolution 
which  is  the  result  of  the  action  of  nature  as  a  system  ot 
external  causes  up/on  him,  but  an  evolution  in  which  nature 
is  really  "  coming  to  itself,"  i.e.,  coming  to  self-conscious- 
ness, in  him. 

Now  it  was  Kant  who  first — though  \n.\h.  a  certain 
limitation  of  aim — brought  this  idea  of  the  relativity 
of  thought  and  being  to  the  consciousness  of  the  modern 
world.  In  the  Critique  of  Pure  JReason,  thought,  indeed, 
is  not  set  up  as  an  absolute  prim,  in  relation  to  which  all 
existence  must  be  conceived,  but  it  is  set  up  as  the  pnus 
of  exiierience,  and  so  of  all  existences  which  are  objects  of 
our  knowledge.  Experience  is  for  Kant  essentially  relativo 
to  the  conscioiis  self;  it  exists  through  the  necessary 
subsumption  of  the  forms  and  matter  of  sense  under  the 
categories,  as,  on  the  other  hand,  the  consciousness  of  self 
is  recognized  as  essentially  dependent  on  thjs  process.  On 
this  view,  the  a  priori  and  a  posteriori  factors  of  experience 
do  not  really  exist  apart  as  two  separate  portions  of 
knowledge.  If  they  are  severed,  each  loses  all  its  mean- 
ing. Perceptions  in  themselves  are  void ;  categories  in 
themselves  are  empty.  We  do  not  look  outwards  for  ona 
kind  of  truth  and  inwards  for  another,  cor  do  we  even, 
by  an  external  process,  bring  facts  given  as  contingent 
under  principles  recognized  as  necessary ;  but  the  a  priori 
is  the  condition  under  which  alone  the  a  posteriori  exists 
for  us.  Even  if  it  is  allowed  that  the  facts  of  inner  and 
outer  experience  contain  a  cc<?ilingent  element  or  matter, 
given  under  the  conditions  of  lime  and  space,  yet  neither 
time  nor  space  nor  the  facts  of  experience  conditioned  by 
them  exist  for  us  except  as  elements  of  an  experience 
which  is  organized  according  to  the  categories. 

This  is  the  essejitip.l  truth  which  Kant  had  to  express. 
It  is  marred  in  Lis  statement  of  it  by  the  persistent 
influence  of  the  abstract  division  between  contingent 
matter  given  from  without  and  necessary  principles 
supplied  from  within,  a  division  essentially  inconsistent 
with  the  attempt  to  show  that  the  contingent  matter  ia 
necessarily  subsumed  under  these  principles,  and  indeed 
exists  for  us  only  as  it  is  so  subsumed.  But  Kant  himself 
puts  into  our  hands  the  means  of  correcting  his  own 
inadequacy,  when  he  reduces  the  inaccessible  thing  in  itself, 
which  he  at  first  spsaks  of  as  alTecting  oui-  sensibility  and 
so  giving  rise  to  the  contingent  matter  of  experience,  to  a 
noumenon  (movficvov)  which  is  projected  by  reason  itself. 
The  Dialectic  exhibits  the  idea  of  thought  as  not  only 
constituting  finite  experience  but  also  reaching  beyond  it, 
though  as  yet  only  in  a  negative  way.  The  mind  is,  on 
this  view,  so  far  unlimited  that  it  knows  its  own  limits ;  it 
is  conscious  of  the  defects  of  its  experience,  of  the  con- 
tingency of  its  sensible  matter,  and  the  emptiness  and 
Cniludo  of  its  categories ;  and  by  reason  of  this  conscious- 
ness it  is  always  seeking  in  experience  an  ideal  wbichit  is 
impossible  to  realize  there.  Thought  measures  experience 
by  its  own  nature,  and  finds  it  wanting.  It  demands 
a  kind  of  unity  or  identity  in  its  objects  which  it  is  unable 
to  find  in  the  actual  objects  of  experience.  It  is  this 
demand  of  reason  which  lifts  man  above  a  mere  animal 
existence,  and  forces  him  by  aid  of  the  categories  to 
determine  the  matter  of  sense  as  a  world  of  objects ;  yet,  aa 
this  finite  world  of  experieuco  can  never  satisfy  the  deouud 


31  E  T  A  P  H  Y  S  I  C 


83 


of  reason,  thg  consciousness  of  it  is  immediately  com- 
bined with  the  consciousness  of  its  limited  and  phenomenal 
character.  The  student  of  the  Critique  of  Pure  Reason 
cannot  but  recognize  the  strange  balance  between  the  real 
and  the  phenomenal  in  which  it  ends,  allowing  to  man  the 
consciousness  of  each  so  far  as  to  enable  him  to  see  the 
defects  of  the  othfer, — so  that  by  aid  of  the  pure  identity  of 
reason  ho  can  criticize  and  condemn  the  "  blindness "  or 
unresolved  difference  of  experience,  and  by  means  of  the 
concreteness  and  complexity  of  experience  he  can  condemn 
ithe  "  empty  "  identity  of  reason. 

In  order,  however,  to  understand  the  full  bearing  of 
Kant's  criticism  of  knowledge,  and  at  the  same  time  to  find 
■the  meeting-point  of  the  opposite  currents  of  thought  which 
alternately  prevail  in  it,  it  will  be  necessary  to  consider 
the  subject  a  little  more  closely.  The  lesson  of  the  Critique 
may  be  gathered  up  into  two  points.  In  the  first  place, 
it  is  a  refutation  of  the  ordinary  view  of  experience  as 
Bomething  immediately  given  for  thought  and  not  con- 
stituted by  it.  In  the  second  place,  it  is  a  demonstration 
of  the  merely  phenomenal  character  of  the  objects  of 
experience,  i.e.,  the  demonstration  that  the  objects  of 
experience,  even  as  determined  by  science,  are  not  things 
in  themselves.  Both  these  results  require  to  be  kept 
clearly  in  view  if  we  would  understand  the  movement  of 
thought  excited  by  Kant.  On  the  one  hand  Kant  had  to 
teach  that  what  is  ordinarily  regarded  as  real,  the  world 
of  experience,  is  transcendently  ideal,  i.e.,  is  determined  as 
real  by  a  priori  forma  of  thought.  On  the  other  hand  he 
had  to  teach  that  the  world  so  determined  is  empirically 
and  not  transcendentaUy  real,  i.e.,  its  reality  is  merely 
phenomenal.  With  the  former  lesson  he  met  the  man  of 
science,  and  compelled  him  to  renounce  his  materialistic 
explanation  of  the  world  as  a  thing  which  exists  in 
independence  of  the  mind  that  knows  it.  The  world  we 
know  is  a  world  which  exists  only  as  it  exists /or  us,  for 
the  thinking  subject;  hence  the  thinking  subject,  the  ego, 
cannot  be  taken  as  an  object  like  other  objects,  an  object 
the  phenomena  of  which  are  to  be  explained  like  other 
phenomena  by  their  place  in  the  connexion  of  experience. 
Having,  however,  thus  repelled  scientific  materialism  by 
the  proof  that  the  reality  of  experience  is  ideal,  Kant 
refuses  to  proceed  to  the  complete  identification  of  reality 
with  ideality,  and  meets  the  claims  of  the  metaphysician 
with  the  assertion  that  the  reality  of  e.xperience  is  merely 
phenomenal.  Hence  he  rejects  any  idealism  that  would 
involve  the  negation  of  things  in  themselves  beyond 
phenomena,  or  the  identification  of  the  objects  of  experience 
with  these  things.  The  reality  we  kno-v  is  a  reali^  which 
exists  only  for  us  as  conscious  subjects,  but  this,  though 
it  is  the  only  reality  we  can  know,  is  not  the  absolute 
reality. 

It  is,  however,  to  be  observed  that  the  nature  of  this 
opposition  between  phenomena  and  things  in  themselves 
seems  to  change  as  we  advance  from  the  Analytic,  where 
the  existence  of  such  things  is  presupposed,  to  the  Dialectic, 
where  the  grounds  of  that  presupposition  are  examined. 
At  first  the  opposition  seems  to  be  between  what  is  present 
in  consciousness  and  what  is  absolutely  beyond  conscious- 
ness. The  matter  of  experience  is  regarded  as  given  exter- 
nally in  the  affections  of  the  sensibla  subject, — affections 
caused  by  an  unknown  thing  in  itself,  of  which,  however, 
they  can  tell  us  nothing.  On  the  other  hand  the  form  of 
experience;  the  categories  and  principles  of  judgment  which 
turn  these  affections  into  objects  of  koowlidge.  are  not  pure 
expressions  of  the  real  natiire,  the  pure  identity,  of  the 
subject  in  itself,  but  only  product?  of  the  identity  of  the 
.self  in  relation  to  the  sensibility  and  its  forms  of  time 
and  space.  Hence,  on  both  sides  we  must  regard  expe- 
jieoca  as  merely  phenomenal,  alike  in  relation  to  the 


noumenal  object  and  in  relation  to  the  noumenal  subject, 
which  lurk  behind  the  veil  and  send  forth  into  expe- 
rience on  the  one  side  affections  which  become  objects 
through  their  determination  by  the  unity  of  thought,  and 
on  the  other  side  an  identity  of  thought  which  becomes 
self-conscious  in  relation  to  the  objects  so  determined  by 
itself. 

Kant,  however,  having  thus  answered  the  question  of 
the  possibility  of  exiierience  by  reference  to  two  things  in 
themselves  which  are  out  of  experience,  is  obliged  to  ask 
himself  how  the  ronscicvsness  of  these  two  things  in 
themselves,  and  the  criticism  of  experience  in  relation  to 
them,  is  possible.  And  here,  obviously,  the  opposition 
can  no  longer  be  conceived  as  an  opposition  between  that 
which  is  and  that  which  is  not  in  consciousness.  For  the 
things  in  themselves  must  be  present  to  consciousness  in 
some  fashion  in  order  that  they  may  be  contrasted  ^-ith  the 
phenomena.  If,  therefore,  phenomena  are  now  regarded 
as  unreal,  it  m\ist  be  because  we  have  an  idea  of  reality  to 
which  the  reality  of  experience  dos3  not  fully  correspond. 
In  the  Analytic  Kant  had  beenispeaking  as  if  the  real  con- 
sisted in  something  which  is  not  present  to  the  conscious 
subject  at  all,  though  we,  by  analysis  of  his  experience, 
can  refer  to  it  as  the  cause  of  that  which  is  so  present. 
Now  in  the  Dialectic  he  has  to  account  for  the  fact  that 
the  conscious  subject  himself  is  able  to  transcend  his 
experience,  and  to  contrast  the  objects  of  it  as  phenomenal 
with  things  in  themselves. 

Now  it  is  obvious  that  such  an  opposition  is  possible  only 
so  far  as  the  thought,  which  constitutes  experience,  is- at 
the  same  time  conscious  of  itself  in  opposition  to  the 
experience  it  constitutes.  The  reason  why  experience  is 
condemned  as  phenomenal  is,  therefore,  not  because  it  is 
that  which  exists  for  thought  as  opposed  to  that  which 
does  not  exist  for  thought,  but  because  it  imperfectly 
corresponds  to  the  determination  of  thought  in  itself.  In 
other  words,  it  is  condemned  as  unreal,  not  because  it  is 
ideal,  but  because  it  is  imperfedly  ideal  And  the  absolute 
reality  is  represented,  not  as  that  which  exists  without 
relation  to  thought,  but  as  that  which  is  identical  with  the 
thought  for  which  it  is.  In  the  Dialectic,  therefore, 
the  noumenon  is  substituted  for  the  thing  in  itself,  and 
the  noumenon  is,  as  Kant  tells  us,  the  object  as  it  exists 
for  an  intuitive  or  perceptive  understanding,  i.e.,  an  under- 
standing which  does  not  synthetically  combine  the  given 
matter  of  sense  into  objects  by  means  of  categories,  but 
whose  thought  is  one  with  the  existence  of  the  objects  it 
knows.  It  is  the  idea-  of  such  a  pure  identity  of  knowing 
and  being,  as  suggested  by  thought  itself,  which  leads  us 
to  regard  our  actual  empirical  knowledge  as  iinperfect,  and 
its  objects  as  not,  in  an  absolute  sense,  real  objects.  The 
noumena  are  not,  therefore,  the  unknown  causes  by  whose 
action  and  reaction  conscious  experience  is  produced ;  they 
represent  a  unity  of  thought  with  itself  to  wliich  it  finds 
experience  inadequate.  This  higher  unity  of  thought  with 
itself  is  what  Kant  calls  reason,  and  he  identifies  it  with 
the  faculty  of  syllogizing.  Further,  he  finds  in  the  three 
forms  of  syllogism  a  guiding  thread  which  brings  him  to 
the  recognition  of  three  forms  in  which  the  pure  unity  of 
reason  presents  itself  to  us  in  opposition  to  the  merely 
synthetic  unity  of  experience,  a  psychological,  a  cosmo- 
logical,  and  a  theological  form.  In  each  of  these  cases 
the  empirical  process  of  knowledge  is  accompanied,  guided, 
and  stimulated  by  an  idea  which  nevertheless  it  is  imable 
to  realize  or  verify.  In  psychology  we  have  ever  present 
to  us  an  idea  of  the  identity  of  the  self,  which  is  never 
realized  in  our  actual  self -consciousness,  •  because  the  self 
of  which  we  are  conscious  is  manifold  in  its  states  and 
because  it  stands  in  relation  to  an  external  world.  The 
idea  of  simple  identity  ic,  therefore,  something  we  may  set 


34 


METAPHYSIC 


before  us  aa  tho  goal  r4  an  ideal  psychology,  to  which  we 
may  approximate  in  bo  far  as  we  can  trace  unity  of  faculty 
tbroufjh  all  the  diiTorences  of  mental  phenomena,  but  tr 
which  we  can  never  attain  owing  to  the  nature  of  the  matter 
witi  which  we  deal.  Again,  in  our  scientific  attempts  to 
explain  our  external  experience,  the  unity  of  reason  takes 
the  form  of  aa  idea  of  the  world  as  a  completed  infinite 
whole,  which  contains  all  the  objects  known  to  us  and  all 
other  possible  objects ;  but  this  cannot  be  realized  in 
an  experience  which  is  conditioned  by  space  and  time, 
and  is,  therefore,  ever  incomplete.  The  idea  of  totality 
)s,  therefore,  an  ideal,  which  guides  and  stimulates  our 
scientific  progress,  without  which  such  a  thing  as  science 
could  not  exist,  but  which  at  the  same  time  can  never  be 
realized  by  science.  Lastly,  the  unity  of  reason  takes  a 
third  form  in  which  identity  and  totality  are  combined, — 
as  the  idea  of  a  unity  in  which  all  differences,  even  the 
difference  of  subject  and  object,  are  transcended, — the  idea 
of  a  unity  of  all  things  with  each  other  and  with  the  mind 
that  knows  them.  This  idea  also  is  one  which  science  can 
neither  surrender  nor  realize.  It  cannot  surrender  it 
without  giving  up  that  striving  after  unity  without  which 
science  would  not  exist ;  and  it  cannot  realize  it,  for  tne 
difference  between  the  world,  as  it  is  presented  to  us  in 
actual  experience,  and  the  subjective  determination  of 
our  thinking  consciousness  cannot  be  overcome.  We  can, 
indeed,  use  the  idea  that  the  world  is  an  organic  whole, 
determined  in  relation  to  an  end  which  consciousness  sets 
for  itself,  as  an  heuriMic  principle  to  guide  us  in  following 
the  connexion  of  things  with  each  other ;  but,  as  we  cannot 
by  means  of  any  such  idea  anticipate  what  the  facts  of 
external  experience  will  be,  so  we  cannot  prove  that  for  a 
mind  other  than  ours  the  unity  of  things  which  we  repre- 
sent in  this  way  might  not  take  a  quite  different  aspect. 
Indeed  we  have  reason  to  think  it  would ;  for,  while  we 
always  think  of  a  designing  mind  as  using  materials  which 
have  an  existence  and  nature  independent  of  the  purposes 
to  which  they  are  put,  the  absolute  mind  must  be  conceived 
as  creating  the  materials  themselves  by  the  same  act 
whereby  they  are  determined  to  an .  end.  We  must  con- 
ceive it,  in  short,  as  an  intuitive  understandimi  for  which 
end  and  means,  objective  and  subjective,  aiv  one,  or,  in 
other  words,  as  an  intelligence  whose  consciousness  of 
itself  is  or  contains  the  existence  of  all  that  is  object 
for  it. 

This  new  view  of  the  things  in  themselves  as  noumena 
or  ideals  of  reason  involves  a  new  atfitude  of  thought 
towards  them  different  from  that  dogmatic  attitude  which 
is  provisionally  adopted  in  the  Analytic.  Accordingly,  wo 
now  find  Kant  speaking  of  them,  not  as  things  which  exist 
independently  of  their  being  conceived,  but  as  "  prob- 
lematical conceptions  "  of  which  we  cannot  even  determine 
whether  they  correspond  to  any  objects  at  all.  They  are 
"limitative  "  notions  which  have  a  negative  value,  in  so  far 
as  they  keep  open  a  vacant  space  beyond  experience,  but 
do  not  enable  us  to  fill  that  space  with  any  positive  realities. 
They  are  like  dark  lanterns  which  cast  light  upon  the 
empirical  world,  and  show  what  are  its  boundaries,  but 
leave  their  own  nature  in  obscurity.  All  that  we  can  say 
of  the  noumenal  self  or  subject  is  that  it  corresponds  to  the 
unity  implied  in  all  knowledge,  but  whether  there  is  such 
a  self,  independent  of  the  process  of  empirical  synthesis 
and  the  self-consciousness  which  accompanies  that  process, 
we  cannot  tell.  All  tliat  we  can  say  of  the  noumenal  reality 
of  tho  objective  world  is  that  it  corresponds  to  the  idea 
of  the  objects  of  experience  as  a  completed  whole  in  them- 
selves apart  from  the  process  whereby  we  know  them,  but 
whether  there  is  any  such  real  world  independent  of  tho 
process  of  experience  it  is  impossible  to  say.  Lastly,  all 
that  we  can  say  of  God  is  that  He  corresponds  to  the  idea 


of  the  unity  of  all  things  with  the  mind  that  Knows  them, — 
an  ideal  which  is  involved  in  all  knowledge, — but  whether 
the  realization  of  this  idea  in  an  intuitive  understanding 
is  even  possible  we  have  no  means  of  determining,  how- 
ever Wi,  msv  suspect  that  understanding  and  sensibility  are 
"  branches  springing  from  the  same  unknown  root."  The 
Criticism  of  Purt,  Reason  ends,  therefore,  in  a  kind  of 
seesaw  between  two  for.-ns  of  consciousness — a  thinking 
consciousness,  which  trauEcenls  experience  and  sets  before 
us  an  idea  of  absolute  reality,  but  which  cannot  attain 
to  any  knowledge  or  even  certitude  of  any  object 
corresponding  to  this  idea,  and  an  empi-'cal  conscious- 
ness, which  gives  us  true  knowledge  of  its  objects,  but 
whose  objects  are  determined  as  merely  phenomenal  and 
not  absolutely  real. 

The  equipoise  thus  maintained  between  tho  empirical 
and  the  intelligible  world  is,  however,  in  the  Critique  of 
Practical  Reason,  overbalanced  in  favour  of  the  latter. 
What  tho  theoretical  reason  could  not  do  "  in  that  it  was 
weak  through  the  flesh,"  through  its  dependence  on  the 
very  empirical  consciousness  which  it  sought  to  transcend, 
is  possible  to  the  practical  reason,  because  it  is  primarily 
determined  by  itself.  In  our  moral  consciousness  we  find 
ourselves  under  a  law  which  calls  upon  us  to  act  as  beings 
■who  are  absolutely  self-determined  or  free,  and  which, 
therefore,  assiu-es  us  that  our  intelligible  self  is  our  real  self, 
and  conclusively  determines  our  empirical  self  in  contrast 
with  )'i,  as  phenomenal.  Thus  the  moral  law  gives  reality 
to  the  intelligible  world ;  or,  as  Kant  expresses  it,  "  the 
idea  of  rn  intelligible  world  is  a  point  of  view  beyond  the 
phenomepal  which  the  reason  sees  itself  compelled  to  take 
up,  in  order  to  think  of  itself  as  practical."  In  other 
words,  the  moral  law  presupposes  freedom  or  determination 
in  the  rational  being  as  such,  and  makes  him  regard  him- 
self, not  me  ply  as  a  link  in  the  chain  of  conditioned 
existences  in  •ime  and  space,  but  as  the  original  source 
of  his  own  life.  The  blank  space  beyond  the  phenomenal 
thus  begins  to  b?  filled  up  by  the  idea  of  a  free  causality 
which  again  po  tulates  a  world  adequate  and  conform- 
able to  itself.  And  the  man  who,  as  an  empiric  individu- 
ality, is  obliged  to  regard  himself  merely  as  an  individual 
being  determined  by  other  individual  beings  and  things 
is  authorized  as  a  noral  being  to  treat  this  apparent 
necessity  as  having  its  reality  in  freedom,  and  to  look  upon 
himself  as  the  denizen  of  a  spiritual  world  where  nothing 
is  determined  for  him  from  without  which  is  not  simply 
the  expression  of  his  o  "n  self-determination  from  within. 
"  Thus  we  have  found,  what  Aiistotle  could  not  fiod,  a 
fixed  point  on  which  reason  can  set'  its  lever,  not  in  any 
present  or  future  world,  but  in  its  own  inner  idea  of 
freedom, — a  point  fixed  f  r  it  by  the  immovable  moral 
law,  as  a  secure  basis  from  which  it  can  move  tho  human 
will,  even  against  the  opposition  of  all  the  powers  of 
nature."  *  Starting  from  this  idea  of  freedom,  therefore, 
Kant  proceeds  to  reconsti'uct  'or  faith  the  unseen  world, 
which  in  tho  Critique  of  Pure  Reason  he  had  denied  as  an 
object  of  kncfivledge.  Nor  is  he  content  to  leave  the 
two  worlds  in  sharp  antithesis  t?  each  other,  but  even  in 
tho  Critique  of  Practical  Reason,  and  still  more  in  the 
Critique  of  Judgment,  he  brings  them  into  relation  to  each 
other,  and  so  gives  to  theoretical  reason  a  kind  of 
authority  to  use  for  the  explanation  of  the  phenomenal 
world  those  ideas  which  of  itself  it  might  be  inclined  to 
regard  as  illusive. 

In  all  this,  however,  it  is  difficuK  to  avoid  seeing  a 
partial  retractation  of  Kant's  first  view  as  to  the  irreconcilable 
opposition  of  the  phenomenal  and  tho  noumenal.  For,  in, 
the  first  place,  the  moral  imperative  is  a-" dressed  to  a  self' 


'  KAiit,  i.  G33  (Roscnkraiu'e  e\Ution  . 


METAPHYSIC 


85 


itrUch  is  at  one  and  the  same  time  regarded  in  both 
jbharacters,  and  which  is  called  upon  to  subsume  under  the 
(moral  law  acts  which  otherwise  derive  their  character  and 
Imeaning  from  the  relations  of  the  phenomenal  world.  That 
ithe  particular  nature  of  men  as  phenomenal  individuals 
jean  be  the  means  of  realizing  the  universal  law  of  reason  is 
implied  in  all  Kant's  statements  of  the  latter,  and  particu- 
larly in  his  conception  of  men  as  constituting  together  a 
"kingdom  of  ends";  for  it  is  difficult  to  conceive  this 
kingdom  otherwise  than  as  an  organic  unity  of  society,  in 
■which  each  individual,  by  reason  of  his  special  tendencies 
and  capacities,  has  a  definite  office  to  fulfil  in  realizing 
the  universal  principle  that  binds  all  the  members  of  the 
tin^dom  to  each  other.  The  summum  bormm,  again,  is 
said  to  consist  in  the  union  of  happiness  with  goodness, 
i.e.,  of  the  empirical  conditions  of  man's  individual  life  as 
a  sensible  subject  with  the  pure  self-determination  of  the 
intelligible  self  j  and  God  is  postulated  as  a  Deus  ex 
macJiina  to  bind  together  these  two  unrelated  elements, — 
a  conception  which  shows  the  difficulty  into  which  Kant 
has  brought  himself  by  defining  them  as  unrelated.  Still 
more  obvioiis  is  the  effort  of  Kant  to  get  beyond  the 
dualism  of  his  first  view  of  things  in  the  Critique  of 
Judyment.  For  in  that  work  he  maintains  that  the  con- 
sciousness of  the  beautiful  and  the  sublime  is  or  involves 
a  harmony  of  the  understanding  or  the  reason  with  sense ; 
and,  what  is  still  more  important,  he  points  out  that  the 
idea  of  organic  unity,  without  which  we  cannot  explain  the 
phenomena  of  life,  contains  in  it  a  possibility  of  the  recon- 
ciliation of  freedom  and  necessity,  of  the  intelligible  and  the 
phenomenal.  This  idea,  he  argues,  we  are  authorized  by 
our  moral  consciousness  to  apply  to  the  whole  course  of  the 
things  in  the  phenomenal  world,  and  so  to  regard  it  as  a 
process  to  realize  the  moral  ideal.  No  doubt  he  again 
partially  retracts  this  view  when  he  declares  that  we  must 
treat  the  idea  of  final  causality  as  merely  a  subjective 
principle  of  judgment,  which,  even  in  the  case  of  living 
beings,  is  to  be  regarded  only  as  necessary  for  us  as  finite 
intelligences.  But  such  saving  clauses,  in  which  Kant 
recurs  to  the  dualism  with  which  he  started,  cannot  hide 
from  us  how  near  he  has  come  to  the.  renunciation  of  it. 

When  we  regard  Kant  in  this  way  as  asserting  from  one 
point  of  view  an  absolute  limit  which  from  another  point 
of  view  he  permits  us  to  transcend,  it  becomes  obvious 
that  his  philosophy  is  in  an  unstable  equilibrium,  which 
cannot  but  be  disturbed  by  any  one  who  attempts  to 
develop  or  even  to  restate  his  ideas.  Hence  we  need  not 
wonder  that  those  who  take  in  earnest  his  denunciations 
of  any  attempt  to  transcend  experience  generally, — like 
Professor  Hukley, — reject  as  worthless  all  Kant's  later  work ; 
and  that,  on  the  other  side,  those  who  take  in  earnest  his 
ideas  of  freedom,  of  organic  unity,  of  an  intuitive  under- 
standing, and  of  a  summum  bonnm  in  which  freedom  and 
necessity  meet  together,  are  compelled  to  break  through 
the  arbitrarj'  line  which  he  drew  between  knowledge 
and  belief.  In  favour  of  the  former  course  it  is  easy  in 
many  places  to  appeal  to  the  letter  of  Kant.  In  favour  of 
the  latter  it  need  orJy  be  pointed  out  that,  in  Kant's  view, 
all  experience  rests  upon,  or  is  in  its  development  guided 
by,  those  ideas  which  yet  he  wiU  not  permit  us  to  treat  as 
sources  of  knowledge.  Hence  the  principles  of  the  Critique 
cannot  legitimately  be  used  against  metaphysic,  except 
by  those  who  are  prepared  to  admit  the  ideas  of  reason,  up 
to  the  point  to  which  he  admits  them,  as  ideas  that  limit 
and  direct  our  experience, — while  rejecting  all  use  of  them 
to  cast  light  upon  that  which  is  beyond  experience.  In 
other  words,  they  must  maintain  the  possibility  of  a  purely 
negative  knowledge,  of  the  knowledge  of  a  limit  by  one 
,who  yet  cannot  go  beyond  it.  They  must  show  how  we 
.can  have  an  ideal  of  knowledge  which  enables  us  to  criticize 


experience  without  enabling  us  to  transform  it ;  they  mn.^t 
show  how  ideas  of  the  supersensible  can  so  far  he  present 
to  our  thought  as  to  make  visible  the  boundaries  of  the 
prison  of  sense  in  which  we  are  confined,  without  in  any 
way  enabling  us  to  escape  from  it. 

Is  this  possible?  We  may  gather  up  the  Kantian 
antithesis  in  the  assertion  that  experience  is  the  imperfect 
realization  of  aa  ideal  of  knowledge,  derived  from  reason, 
with  materials,  derived  from  sense  and  understanding,  the 
nature  of  which  is  such  that  they  can  never  be  brought 
into  correspondence  with  the  ideal.  But  this  ideal,  in  all  its 
throe  forms,  as  we  have  seen,  is  simply  the  idea  of  a  pure 
unity  or  identity  in  which  all  differences  are  lost  or 
dissolved — whether  they  be  the  differences  of  the  inner  or 
of  the  outer  life,  or  finally  the  difference  of  inner  and 
outer,  subjective  and  objective,  from  each  other.  Kant's 
view  therefore  is,  in  effect,  this,  that  thought  carries 
with  it  the  consciousness  of  an  identity  or  umty,  to  whic'a 
our  actual  experience  in  none  of  its  forms  fully  coiTesponds. 
On  the  other  hand,  Kant  does  not  hesitate  equally  to  con- 
demn the  identity  of  thought  as  "  empty  '  and  subjective, 
because  it  does  not  contain  in  itself  nor  can  evolve  from 
itself  the-  complex  matter  of  experience.  But  this 
alternate  condemnation  of  experience  as  unreal  from  the 
point  of  view  of  the  ideas,  and  of  the  ideas  as  umeal  from 
the  point  of  view  of  experience,  seems  to  show  that  hoOt  are 
unreal,  as  being  abstract  elements,  which  have  no  value  save 
in  their  relation  to  each  other,  and  which  lose  all  their  mean- 
ing when  separated  from  the  unity  to  which  they  belong 
According  to  tliis  view,  ideas  and  experience,  noumena 
and  phenomena,  if  they  are  opposed,  are  also  'necessarily 
related  to  each  other.  If  our  empirical  consciousness  of 
the  world  of  objects  in  space  and  time,  as  determined  by 
the  categories,  does  not  correspond  to  the  unity  or  identity 
of  thought  which  is  our  ideal  of  knowledge,  yet  that  idea 
of  unity  or  identity  is  set  up  by  thought  in  relation  to 
experience,  and  cannot,  therefore,  be  essentially  irrecon- 
cilable with  it.  The  two  terms  may  be  opposed,  but  their 
opposition  cannot  be  absolute,  seeing  that  they  are  in 
essential  relation  to  each  other.  It  is  a  great  logical  error 
not  to  discern  that  a  negative  relation  is  still  a  relation, 
i.e.,  that  it  has  a  positive  unity  beyond  it.  This  positive 
unity  may  not,  indeed,  be  consciously  present  to  us  in 
our  immediate  apprehension  of  the  relation  in  question, 
but  it  is  necessanly  implied  in  it.  Now  it  is  just  because, 
in  his  separation  of  noumena  and  phenomena,  Kant  omits 
to  note  their  essential  relativity  that  he  is  forced  to  regard 
the  former  as  a  set  of  abstract  identities  of  which  nothing 
can  be  known,  and  the  latter  as  the  imperfect  products  of 
a  synthesis  which  can  never  be  completed  or  brought  to  a 
true  unity.  Yet  the  value  of  his  whole  treatment  of  the 
ideas  of  reason  in  relation  to  our  intellectual  and  moral 
experience  arises  from  the  fact  that  in  practice  he  does 
not  hold  to  this  abstract  separation  of  the  two  elementa 
Ideas  absolutely  incommensurable  with  experience  could 
neither  stimulate  nor  guide  our  empirical  synthesis ;  they 
could  not  even  be  brought  into  any  connexion  with  it. 
When,  therefore,  Kant  brings  them  into  this  connexion,  he 
necessarily  alters  their  meaning.  Hence  the  pure  abstract 
identity  which  excludes  all  difference  is  changed,  in  its 
application,  into  the  idea  of  an  organic  unity,  of  which  the 
highest  type  is  found  in  self-consciousness,  with  its  trans- 
parent difference  of  the  subjective  and  objective  self.  It 
would  be  absurd  and  meaningless  to  say  that  science  seeks  to 
reduce  experience  to  an  abstract  identity,  in  which  there  is 
no  difference,  unless  for  this  were  tacitly  substituted  what 
is  really  an  entirely  different  proposition,  that  science  seeks 
to  find  in  the  infinitely  diversified  world  of  space  and  time 
that  unity  in  difference  of  which  self<onBciousness  has  in 
itself  the  pattern.     It  is  in  reference  to  the  former  land 


(86 


METAPHYSIC 


of  identity — the  abstract  oneness  of  formal  logic — tbat  ' 
Kant  proves  that  it  is  impossible  for  experience  to  be  . 
made  adequate  to  ideas.  But  it  is  only  of  the  latter  kind 
of  identity — the  oneness  of  seLf-consciousness — that  it  can 
be  said  that  it  furnishes  a  guiding  principle  to  scientific 
investigation  or  an  ideal  of  knowledge.  The  same  con- 
fusion is  still  more  evident  in  Kant's  account  of  our  moral 
experience,  in  dealing  with  ivhich  he  directly  attemjits  to 
get  sjnithetic  propositions  out  of  the  pure  identity  of 
reason,  in  tjther  words,  to  draw,  definite  moral  laws  out 
of  the  logical  principle  of  non-contradiction.  Whatever 
success  he  attains  is  gained  by  substituting  for  the  formal 
principle  of  self-consistenct/  the  positive  idea  of  conaistcncy 
with  the  self,  and  again  by  conceiving  this  self  as  a  concrete 
individual,  the  member  of  a  society,  and  so  standing  in 
essential  relation  to  other  selves.  The  pure  abstraction 
from  all  the  external  results  of  action  and  from  all  motives 
of  desire,  which  at  the  beginning  of  the  Metaphi/sic  of 
Ethics  Kant  declares  to  be  essential  to  moralitj',  is  modified 
and  indeed  transformed,  as  we  go  on,  by  the  admusious 
that  other  rational  beings  are  not  external  to  us  in  any 
sense  that  excludes  their  good  from  being  an  end  of  our 
endeavour,  and  that  the  desires  are  not  irrational  and 
immoral  except  in  so  far  as  they  are  directed  to  the 
pleasures  of  the  sensuous  individual  (which  in  a  conscious 
being  they  never  entirely  are).  Both  in  the  speculative 
and  in  the  practical  sphere,  therefore,  the  absolute  opposi- 
tion of  the  ideal  or  noumenal  to  the  empirical  disappears, 
as  soon  as  Kant  attempts  to  apply  it.  For  in  both  the 
abstract  identity  of  formal  logic,  which  is  really  the 
meaning  oi  the  noumenon  as  absolutely  opposed  to  and 
incommensurable  with  experience,  gives  way  to  the  unity 
of  self -consciousness, — a  unity  which  is  so  far  from  being 
absolutely  opposed  to  the"  difference  of  the  empirical 
consciousness  that  it  necessarily  implies  it.  For  self- 
consciousness  presupposes  the  consciousness  of  objects ; 
though  it  is  opposed  to  that  consciousness,  it  is  essentially 
correlated  with  it,  and  therefore  its  oppo:;ition  cannot  be 
regarded  as  absolute,  or  incapable  of  b^ing  transcended. 

These  considerations  may  throw  some  light  on  the 
relation  of  the  Analytic  and  Dialectic  of  Kant,  and  on  the 
nature  of  the  opposition  of  noumenon  and  phenomenon 
as  it  is  presented  in  the  latter.  In  the  deduction  of  the 
categories,  Kant  pointed  out  the  ci.sential  relation  of  the 
objective  world  of  experience  to  what  he  called  the 
"transcendental  unity  of  apperception";  i.e.,  he  pointed 
out  that  the  unity  of  coasciou'.ness  is  implied  in  all  its 
objects.  This  unity,  he  further  showed,  must  be  conceived 
as  "capable  of  self-consciousness";  but  it  actually  becomes 
conscious  of  self  only  in  relation,  though  also  in  oppcei- 
tion,  to  the  other  objects  determined  by  it.  Now  it  is  this 
consciousness  of  itself  in  opposition  to  other  objects  which 
is  the  source  of  Kant's  "  ideas  of  reason,"  of  the  dissatisfac- 
tion of  the  mind  with  its  empirical  knowledge,  even  in  its 
EcientiQo  form,  and  of  the  demand  for  a  higher  kind  of  know- 
ledge to  which  experience  is  not  adequate.  That  a  standard 
is  set  up  for  c;qierience  by  which  it  is  condemned  is  simply 
a  result  of  the  further  development  of  that  unity  which  is 
implied  in  experience — a  result  of  the  progress  of  thought 
from  consciousness  to  self-consciousness,  and  of  the  contrast 
between  the  former  and  the  latter.  The  problem  with 
which  Kant's  Dialectic  attempts  to  deal,  and  which  it  treats 
as  insoluble,  is,  therefore,  simply  the  problem  of  raising  con- 
sciousness to  the  form  of  sclf-consciotisness ;  in  other  words,  of 
attaining  to  a  knowledge  of  the  world  of  experience  as  not 
merely  a  "  synthetic,"and  therefore  imperfect,  unity  of  things 
external  to  each  other,  but  as  an  organic  unity  of  transparent 
differences,  a  self-difTercntiatinjr,,  Erlf-inlcgrating  unity,  such 
as  seems  to  be  presented  to  us  in  pure  self-consciousness. 
Nor  can  this  problem  bo  regarded  as  insoluble;  for  the 


unity  of  self-consciousness  is  identical  with  the  unity  of 
consciousness ;  it  is  only  that  unity  become  self-conscious. 
Hence  the  point  of  view  at  which  consciousness  and  self- 
consciousneis  .ceem  to  be  absolutely  opposed  to  each  other, — 
the  highest  point  of  view  which  Kant  distinctly  reaches, — 
can  be  regarded  only  as  a  stage  of  transition  from  the  point 
at  which  their  relative  difference  and  opposition  is  not  v>-t 
developed  to  the  point  at  which  they  are  seen  to  be  I'je 
factors  or  elements  of  a  still  higher  unity. 

The  later  philosophy  of  Germany,  from  Kant  to  Heg.;L 
is  little  more  than  the  development  of  the  idea  just  stated 
in  its  twofold  aspect.  In  the  first  place,  it  is  an  attempt 
to  show  what  is  involved  in  the  idea  of  thought  or  self- 
conscioumess  as  in  itself  an  organic  whole,  a  manj'-in-one, 
a  unity  which  expresses  itself  in  difference,  yet  so  that  the 
difference  remains  transparent,  and  therefore  is  immediately 
recognized  as  expression  ot  the  unity.  In  the  seconHf, 
place,  it  is  an  attempt  to  bridge  over  the  difference  between 
thought  or  self-consciousness  and  the  external  world  of 
experience,  and  to  show  that  this  opjiosition  also  is 
subordinated  to  a  higher  unity.  Or,  to  put  it  more  directlj", 
the  idealistic  philosophy  of  Germany  seeks,  on  the  one 
hand,  to  develop  a  logic  or  metaphysic  which  bases  itself, 
not,  like  formal  logic,  on  the  idea  of  bare  identity,  but  on 
the  idea  of  self-consciousness;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  to 
show,  in  a  philosophy  of  nature  and  spirit,  how,  by  mean.? 
of  this  logic,  the  opposition  of  thought  to  its  object,  ot 
of  the  a  priori  to  the  a  jjostcriori  in  knowledge,  may  ba 
transcended.  In  the  third  and  fourth  sections  of  this 
article  Eomet'uing  more  will  be  said  of  the  manner  in 
which  this  task  was  fulfilled.  Here  only  a  few  words  are 
necessary  to  sum  up  the  results  reached,  and  to  give  more 
distinctness  to  the  new  ideal  of  knowledge  which  th-s9 
results  suggest.  We  have  seen  that  Kant's  critical  attitude 
involved  two  things,— on  the  one  hand,  the  assertion  that 
the  existence  we  know  is  necessarily  existence  for  thought, 
and,  on  the  other  hand,  the  denial  that  that  which  exi.aj 
for  our  thought  is  ab.solute  reality,  a  denial  which  again 
involves  the  presence  to  our  thcfUght  of  an  ideal  of  know- 
ledge, by  which  our  actual  knowledge  is  condemned. 
This  ideal,  however,  was  falsely  conceived  by  Kant  as  an 
identity  without  any  difference,  and,  in  this  sense,  he  does 
not  hesitate  to  apply  it  even  to  self-consciousness  itself. 
For,  in  a  remarkable  passage,'  be  attempts  to  prove  that 
the  consciousness  of  self  is  not  a  knowledge  of  the  self,  by 
a  simple  reference  to  the  duality  of  the  self  knowing  and 
the  self  known,  arguing  that  the  ego  "  stands  in  its  o-ivn 
way,"  just  because  it  exists  only /or  itself,  i.e.,  because  in 
knowing  itself  it  presupposes  itself.  Kant  evidently  thinks 
that  to  know  the  real  self  it  would  be  necessary  to  apprehend 
it  in  simple  identity  as  purely  an  object  without  reference 
to  a  subject,  or  purely  a  subject  without  reference  to  an 
object.  Yet  to  this  it  seems  sufficient  to  answer  that  ."ich 
an  object  or  subject  would  lose  its  character  as  object  cr 
subject  and  become  equivalent  to  mere  being  in  general, 
and  that,  as  such  being  is  a  mere  abstraction,  to  know  it 
cannot  be  the  ideal  of  knowledge.  If  therefore  there  be  a 
unity  or  identity  of  thought  which  is  not  realized  in  ex-' 
perience,  and  in  reference  to  which  wc  can  regard  experience 
as  an  imperfect  form  of  know  ledge,  it  cannot  be  found  in 
this  abstract  identity  of  being.  In  truth,  as  we  have  seen,  it 
is  found  in  that  very  idea  of  self-consciousness  which  Kant 
is  criticizing.  Just  because  we  are  self-conscious,  and  thtre-^ 
fore  oppose  the  unity  of'  the  conscious  self  to  the  nianifold- 
ness  of  the  world  in  space  and  time,  do  we  seek  in  the' 
world  of  space  and  time  for  a  transparent  unity  which  w^ 
cannot  at  first  find  there.  But,  when  this  is  seen,  we  find 
in   Kant   himself  the   partial   solution   of   the  diflSculty. 


'  Erica-,  p.  279  (Eosenkrmz's  edition),  <^.  Hegel,  v.  p.  258. 


METAPHYSIC 


m 


BslZ-fOiisciousnesa  presupposes  consciousness  ;  for,  while  the 
•pu^ebensioQ  of  objects  in  consciousness  is  possible  only 
in  relatioa  to  the  unity  of  the  self,  yet  it  is  only  in 
lelatioa  to  and  distinction  from  these  objects  that  we  are 
conscious  of  that  unity.  Hence  the  two  opposites,  self 
and  not-self,  arc  bound  together,  and  presuppose  a  unity 
»b:ch  rcv^aU  itseli  in  luen  opposition,  aud  which,  wUen 
made  explicit,  must  reconcile  them.  If,  therefore,  self- 
fonscioussess,  in  its  first  opposition  to  consciousness,  gives 
rise  to  an  ideal  of  knowledge  to  which  our  empirical 
knowledge  of  objects  is  inadequate,  this  arises  from  the 
(act  that  not  only  empirical  knowledge  but  also  the  ideal 
to  which  it  is  opposed  is  imperfect,  or  that  they  both 
point  to  a  unity  which  is  manifested  in  their  difference, 
and  which  is  capable  of  containing  and  resolving  it.  In 
other  words,  the  opposition  of  science  to  its  ideal,  which 
Kant  has  stated  in  his  Antinomies,  is  not  an  absolute 
opposition,  but  one  the  origin  and  end  of  which  can  be 
aeen. 

This  opposition  reaches  its  highest  point  in  the  con- 
trast between  the  transparent  unity  of  self<onsciousnos3, 
in  which  the  difference  of  knower  and  known  is  evanescent, 
and  the  essential  manifoldness  and  self  ■e.xternality  of  the 
vorld  in  space,  iik  which  the  differences  seem  to  be  insoluble. 
We  must,  indeed,  think  of  self-consciousness  as  having  life 
in  itself  and  therefore  as  differentiating  itself  from  itself ; 
but  this  differentiation  is  held  within  the  limit  of  its  unity, 
it  is  a  separation  of  movements  which  are  separated  only  as 
they  are  united.  On  the  other  hand,  the  world  in  space 
presents  itself  as  the  sphere  of  external  determination,  in 
which  things  are  primarily  disunited  and  act  only  as  they 
are  acted  on  from  without,  and  in  which  this  external 
influence  never  goes  so  far  as  to  destroy  their  reciprocal 
externality.  In  this  sense  it  is  that  the  opposition  of  mind 
and  matter  was  taken  by  Descartes,  and  it  is  a  survival  of 
the  same  mode  of  thought  that  leads  many  even  now  to 
draw  absolute  lines  of  division  between  a  priori  and  a 
posteriori,  between  ideas  and  facts,  between  spiritual  and 
natural.  Kant  and  Fichte  give  a  new  aspect  to  the 
difficulty  by  showing  that  the  difficulty  is  one  of  recon- 
ciling consciousness  and  self-consciousness,  and  that  in 
tonsciousness  there  is  already  present  the  unity  which  is 
manifested  in  self-consciousness,  as,  on  the  other  hand,  it 
is  only  through  consciousness  and  in  opposition  to  it  that 
«elf-consciousnes3  is  possible.  And  Fichte  made  a  further 
■tep  when  he  attempted  to  show  that  the  categories  and  the 
forms  of  perception, 'time  and  space,  which  Kant  had  taken 
as  inexplicable  facts,  are  implied  in  this  contrast  of  con- 
iciousness  and  self-consciousness.  The  error  that  clings  to 
Fichte's  spoculatidns  is,  however,  that  he  treats  conscious- 
ness merely  as  a  necessary  illusion  which  exists  simply 
with  a  view  to  self-consciousness,  and  hence  is  led  to  regard 
eelf-consciousness  itself — because  it  is  essentially  related 
to  this  necessary  illusion — as  a  schema  or  image  of  an 
■nknowable  absolute.  In  fact,  in  the  end  Fichte  falls 
back  upon  the  abstract  identity  in  which  Kant  had  found 
his  noumenon,  and  so  ends  his  philosophy  with  mysticism. 
Even  Schelling,  though  he  saw  that  the  absolute  unity 
must  be  one  that  transcends  the  difference  of  self  and  not- 
»elf,  did  not  finally  escape  the  tendency  to  merge  all 
iifference  in  absolute  oneness.  On  the  other  hand,  it  was 
file  endeavour  of  Hegel  to  proceed  in  the  opposite  way, — 
Bot  to  lose  self -consciousness  or  subjectivity  in  a  mere 
■nity  of  substance,  but  rather  to  show  that  the  absolute 
•ubstance  can  be  truly  defined  only  as  a  self-conscious 
■nbject.  And  just  because  he  did  this  he  was  prepared 
to  take  a  further  step,  and  to  regard  the  external  world, 
■ot  as  Fichte  regarded  it,  as  merely  the  opposite  of  spirit, 
*D«'  as  Schelling  regarded  it,  as  merely  the  repetition  and 
«>-eqtjal  of  sgirit,  but  rather  as  its  necessary  manifestation 


or  as  tnat  in  and  througn  which  alone  it  can  realize  itself. 
His  doctrine  therefore  might  be  summed  up  in  two  proposi- 
tions,— first,  that  the  absolute  substance  is  spiritual  or  self- 
conscious,  and,  secondly,  that  the  absolute  subject  or  spirit 
can  be  conceived  as  realizing  itself  only  through  that  very 
world  of  externality  which  at  first  appears  as  its  opposite, 
in  both  respects  Hegel's  philosophy  reverses  the  via  nrga- 
iiva  of  mysticism,  and  teaches  that  it  is  only  through  the 
exhaustion  of  difference  that  the  unity  of  science,  of  which 
the  mind  contains  in  itself  the  certitude,  is  to  be  realized. 
For  mind  or  spirit,  viewed  in  itself,  is  conceived  as  a  self- 
differentiating  unity,  a  unity  which  exists  only  through 
opposition  of  itself  to  itself.  And  it  is  but  a  necessary 
result  of  such  a  conception  that  spirit  can  fully  realize  its 
unity  only  through  a  world  which  in  the  first  instance 
must  present  itself  as  the  extreme  opposite  of  spirit. 
Hence  the  process  of  thought  in  itself,  which  is  exhibited 
in  the  logic,  ends  in  the  opposition  to  thought  of  a  world 
which  is  its  negative  counterpart.  And  the  "absolute 
spirit "  of  Hegel  is  thus,  not  pNire  self-consciousness,  but 
that  more  concrete  unity  of  self-consciousness  with  itself 
which  it  attains  through  and  by  means  of  this  world. 

The  effect  of  this  view  upon  the  relation  of  metaphysic  to 
science,  which  we  are  at  present  considering,  is  noticeable. 
It  does  not,  as  is  often  supposed,  supersede  science  by  an 
a  priori  construction  of  the  universe,  nor  does  it  leave  the 
results  of  science  unchanged  and  simply  provide  for  it  a 
deeper,  foundation.  The  latter  was  the  point  at  which 
Kant  md  Fichte  stopped ;  for,  while  they  showed  the 
■  relativity  of  experience  to  the  principle  of  self-consciousness, 
they  conceived  that  the  function  of  metaphysic  is  completed 
in  showing  the  phenomenal  character  of  the  objects  of 
science,  and  in  reserving  a  free  spare  beyond  the  phe- 
nomenal world  for  "  God,  freedom,  and  immortality." 
Schelling,  on  the  other  hand,  a.i  he  did  not  adopt  this 
merely  negative  view  of  the  relation  of  .ipirit  to  nature  or 
of  a  priori  to  empirical  truth,  was  obliged  to  reinterpret 
the  latter  by  the  former.  As,  however,  ho  did  not  recog- 
nize any  distinctions  which  were  not  merely  quantitative, 
he  was  led  to  apply  the  same  easy  key  to  every  lock,  and 
to  think  that  ho  had  explained  all  the  different  forms  of 
existence,  organic  and  inorganic,  when  he  had  merely 
pointed  out  a  certain  analogy  between  them.  The  meta- 
physic of  Hegel,  whatever  may  be  said  of  the  actual 
philosophy  of  nature  produced  by  its  author,  contains  no 
necessity  for  any  such  arbitrary  procedure.  In  his  Logic, 
indeed,  he  attempts  to  give  us  in  ahstracto  the  movement 
of  thought  in  itself,  from  its  simplest  determination  of 
being  as  qualitative  or  quantitative,  through  the  reflective 
categories  of  substance  and  cause,  up  to  its  full  conscious- 
ness of  itself  in  its  organic  unity.'  And  in  so  doing  he  of 
course  gives  us  an  account  of  the  various  categories  which 
science  uses  in  the  interpretation  of  nature.  He  further 
attempts  to  show  that  the  highest  categories  of  science  are 
in  themselves  imperfect  and  self-contradictory, — in  other 
words,  that  they  mark  a  stage  of  thought  which  falls 
short  of  that  unity  of  being  and  knowing  after  which 
science  is  striving,  and  which  is  the  presupposition  as 
well  as  the  goal  of  all  intelligence.  But,  while  he  does 
this,  he  clearly  acknowledges  two  things, — on  the  one 
hand  that  nature  is  essentially  different  from  pure  self- 
consciousness,  and  that  therefore  logic  can  never  by 
direct  evolution  of  its  categories  anticipate  the  investiga- 
tions of  science,  and,  in  the  second  place,  that  the  final 
interpretation  of  nature  through  the  highest  categories 
presupposes  its  interpretation  by  the  lower  categories,  and 
cannot  be  directly  achieved  without  it.     In  other  words, 


'  This  nabjuct— the  prsgreaa  of  .tl.oaght  from  lower  to  higher  cato- 
gorios  sad  mothods — wiU  be  more  iully  discussed  in  the  third  section. 


88 


METAPHYSIC 


science  must  first  dcturmine  the  laws  of  nature  according 
to  the  principles  of  causality  and  reciprocity,  ere  philosophy 
can  be  in  a  position  to  discover  the  ultimate  meaning  of 
nature  by  the  aid  of  higher  principles.  "  The  philosopliy 
of  nature,"  says  Ilegel,  "takes  up  the  material  which 
physical  science  by  direct  dealing  with  experience  has 
jjrepared  for  it  at  the  point  to  which  science  has  brought 
it,  and  again  transforms  this  formed  material  without 
going  back  to  exi^erience  to  verify  it.  Science  must, 
therefoie,  work  into  the  hands  of  philosophj^  in  order  that 
philosophy  in  its  turn  may  translate  the  lower  universality 
of  the  understanding  realized  by  science  into  the  higher 
universality  of  reason,  and  may  show  how  in  the  light  of 
this  higher  universality  the  intelligible  world  takes  the 
aspect  of  a  whole  which  has  its  necessity  in  itself.  The 
philosophic  way  of  looking  at  things  is  not  a  capricious 
attempt,  once  in  a  way  for  a  change,  to  walk  upon  one's 
lead  after  one  has  got  tired  of  walking  upon  one's  feet,  or 
t3  transform  one's  work-a-day  face  by  painting  it  over; 
but,  just  because  the  scientific  manner  of  knowing  does  not 
tatisfy  the  whole  demand  of  intelligence,  philosophy  must 
supplement  it  by  another  manner  of  knowing."  ^ 

The  result  then  may  be  briefly  expressed  thus.  Kant 
and  his  successors  showed  the  relativity  of  the  object  of 
knowledge  to  the  knowing.^ mind.  He  thus  pointed. out 
that  the  ordinary  consciousness,  and  even  science,  are 
abstract  and  imperfect  modes  of  knowing,  in  so  far  as  in 
their  determination  of  objects  they  take  no  account  of  a 
factor  which  is  always  present,  to  wit,  the  knowing  subject. 
For  tlieir  purposes,  indeed,  this  abstraction  is  justifiable 
and  necessary,  for  by  it  they  are  enabled  witliin  their  pre- 
scribed limits  to  give  a  more  complete  view  of  these  objects 
m  their  relation  to  each  other  than  if  the  attempt  had 
been  made  to  regard  them  also  in  relation  to  the  knowing 
subject.  At  the  same  time  the  scientific  result  so  arrived 
at  is  imperfect  and  incomplete,  and  it  has  to  be  recon- 
eidered  in  the  hght  of  a  philosophy  which  retracts  this 
provisional  abstraction.  I'or  it  must  be  remembered  that 
the  fact  that  science  looks  at  things  only  in  their  relation 
to  each  other,  and  not  to  the  knomug  mind,  narrows  the 
points  of  view  or  categories  under  which  it  is  able  to 
regard  them,  or,  in  other  words,  limits  the  questions  which 
the  mind  is  able  to  put  to  nature.  Just  because  science 
does  not  treat  its  objects  as  essentially  related  to  the  mind, 
it  is  unable  to  rise  to  what  Hegel  calls  the  point  of  view 
of  reason,  or  of  the  "notion";  i.e.,  it  is  obliged  to  treat 
objects  and  their  relations  merely  under  a  set  of  categories, 
the  highest  of  which  are  those  of  causality  and  reciprocity, 
and  it  is  incapable  of  attaining  to  the  conception  of  their 
organic  unity.  In  other  words,  it  is  able  to  reach  only  a 
synthetic  unity  of  given  differences,  and  it  cannot  discover  a 
principle  of  unity  out  of  which  the  differences  spring  and 
to  which  they  return.  Now  philosophy  goes  beyond  science 
just  because,  along  with  the  idea  of  the  relativity  of  things 
to  the  mind,  it  brings  in  the  conception  of  such  a  unity. 
Its  highest  aim  is,  therefore,  not  merely,  as  Kant  still 
held,  to  secure  a  place  for  the  supersensible  beyond  the 
region  of  experience,  but  to  reinterpret  experience,  in  the 
light  of  a  unity  which  is  presupposed  in  it,  but  which 
cannot  be  made  conscious  or  explicit  until  the  relation  of 
cqjerience  to  the  thinking  self  is  seen,— the  unity  of  all 
ithings  with  each  other  and  with  the  mind  that  knows  them. 
I  2.  Relation  of  MetapJij/sic  to  Psychology. — It  Los  already 
been  shown  that  the  doctrine  that  the  thinking  subject  is 
presupposed  in  all  objects  of  knowledge — or,  in  other 
words,  that  existence  means  existence  for  a  conscious  self 
— is  not  to  be  taken  in  a  psychological  sense.  The  idea 
tiftt  all  science  is  based  on  psychology,  and  that,  therefore, 

'  Ilegel,  vii.  p.  18. 


metaphysic  and  psychology  are  identical,  cannot  be  retained' 
by  any  one  who  has  entered  into  the  full  meaning  of  th* 
Kantian  criticism.  It  is,  however,  so  natural  a  misinter- 
pretation of  it,  and  it  is  so  much  favoured  by  the  letter  of 
the  very  book*  in  which  it-  was  first  decisively  refuted, 
that  it  will  bo  useful  to  point  out  more  directly  the  fallacy 
involved  in  it,  especially  as  this  will  place  us  in  a  better 
position  to  determine  the  true  relation  of  the  two  parts  of 
philosophy  t3iU5  confounded. 

The  misunderstanding  first  took  a  definite  form  in  th« 
introduction  to  Locke's  Essay,  in  which  he  proposes  t» 
provide  against  any  undue  application  of  the  intellectual 
powers  of  man  to  problems  which  are  loo  high  for  them, 
by  first  e.xamining  and  measuring  the  powers  themselves. 
Stated  in  this  way,  it  is  obvious  that  the  proposal 
involves  an  absurdity ;  for  we  have  nothing  to  measui» 
with,  except  the  very  powers  that  are  to  be  measured.  To 
see  round  our  knowledge  and  find  its  boundary,  we  must 
stand  outside  of  it,  and  where  is  such  a  standing  ground  to 
be  found  ?  We  cannot  by  knowing  prescribe  limits  to 
knowledge,  or,  if  we  seem  to  be  able  to  do  so,  it  can  only 
be  because  we  compare  our  actual  knowledge  with  som* 
idea  of  knowledge  which  we  presuppose.  In  this  way  the 
ancient  sceptics — and  modern  ^Titers  like  Sir  W.  Haniiltoa 
and  Mr  Spencer  who  have  followed  them — turned  th» 
duality  involved  in  the  idea  of  knowledge  against  its  unity, 
and  argued  that,  because  we  cannot  know  the  object 
except  as  difl'erent  from  and  related  to  the  subject,  w» 
cannot  know  it  as  it  is  in  itself.  Obviously  in  thi 
argument  it  is  involved  that  in  true  or  absolute  knowledge 
the  object  must  not  be  distinguished  at  aU  from  the  subjecJj 
— to  which  the  easy  answer  is  that  icit/iout  such  distinc- 
tion knowledge  wpuld  be  impossible.  The  sceptic  argu- 
ment, therefore,  lands  us  in  the  unhappy  case  pictured 
in  the  German  proverb  :  "  If  water  chokes  us,  what  shaU 
we  drink!"  The  objeet  cannot  be  known  if  it  it 
distinguished  from  the  subject,  and  it  cannot  be  kno^Tn  if 
it  is  not  distinguished  from  the  subject.  Obviously  th» 
one  objection  is  as  good  as  the  other,  and  both  combined 
only  show  that  the  idea  of  knowledge  involves  distinctioi 
as  well  as  unity,  and  unity  as  well  as  distinction.  Th» 
sceptic  insists  on  one  of  these  characteristics  to  the  exclusioB 
of  the  other,  and  condemns  our  actual  knowledge  becauso 
it  contains  both.  In  Kant  there  is  undoubtedly  some  traco 
of  the  same  fallacy,  in  so  far  as  the  idea  by  contrast  witk 
which  he  condemns  the  objects  of  experience  as  pheno- 
menal is  the  idea  of  an  abstract  identity  without  any 
difierence ;  but  we  have  seen  that  with  him  this  abstract 
identity  is  on  the  point  of  passing  into  an  altogether 
different  idea — the  idea  of  self-consciousness  as  the  type  of 
knowledge. 

It  appears,  then,  that  the  idea  of  measuring  our  powen 
before  we  employ  thera  rests  on  a  paralogism ;  for  what  i< 
really  meant  is  that  we  abstract  one  of  tho  elements  of  th» 
idea  of  knowledge,  and  then  condemn  knowledge  for  having 
other  elements  in  it.  It  is  possible  to  criticize  and  con- 
demn special  conceptions  as  not  conforming  to  our  idea 
of  knowledge ;  but  it  is  not  possible  to  criticize  the  idea 
of  knowledge  itself ;  all  we  can  do  is  to  explain  it.  It  ia 
possible  to  see  the  limited  and  h}'pothetical  character  of 
certain  of  our  ideas  or  explanations  of  things,  because  wo 
are  conscious  that  in  devoJoping  them  we  have  left  out  of 
account  certain  elements  necessary  to  the  whole  truth ; 
but  this  criticism  itself  implies,  as  tho  standard  to  ^vhich  we 
appeal,  a  consciousness  of  truth  and  reality,  a  consciousness 
which  we  cannot  further  criticize.  Here,  therefore,  wo 
come  upon  what  must  seem  to  all  who  think  ,it  admissiblt 
to  question  the  very  possibility  of  knowledge  an  inevitablo 
reasoning  in  a  circle.  We  can  answer  objections  only  bjf, 
means  of  the  very  idea  which  they  dispute.     But  tb« 


METAPHYSIC 


89 


Miswer  is  nerertheless  a  good  one ;  for  the  objector  also 
stands  within  the  very  circle  which  he  seeks  to  break,  and 
has  no  means  of  breaking  it  except  itself.  As  soon  as  he 
qjeaks,  he  can  be' refuted  by  his  own  words ;  for  his  doubts 
also  presuppose  that  unity  of  the  intelligence  and  the 
intelligible  world  which  he  pretends  to  deny. 

The  error,  however,  cannot  be  fully  corrected  until  we 
tonsider  what  gives  it  plausibility.  The  confusion  of  the 
metaphysical  with  the  p.sychological  problem  is  due  to  the 
fact  that  the  being  who  is  the  subject  of  knowledge,  for 
whom  all  exists  that  does  exist,  appears  to  be  one,  and  only 
sne,  of  the  many  objects  of  knowledge.  AVTien  we  say 
that  existence  means  only  an  existence  for  a  thinking  self, 
we  seem  to  be  identifying  the  whole  world  \vith  the  feelings 
and  ideas  of  men,  i.e.,  with  certain  phenomena  that  belong 
to  the  life  of  a  class  of  beings  which  only  forms  a  part  of 
that  world, — phenomena,  moreover,  that  are  not  exactly 
the  same  in  any  two  of  that  ckss  of  beings.  If  we  are  to 
escape  this  difficulty  it  is  obvious  that  we  must  be  able  to 
ieparate  the  conscious  self  or  subject,  as  it  is  implied  in 
lil  knowledge,  from  the  nature  of  man  as  a  being  who 
"  though  formally  self-conscious  "  is  yet  "  part  of  tliis  par- 
tial world,"  i.e.,  one  of  the  objects  which  we  know  along  with 
and  in  distinction  from  other  objects,  and  in  whom  "  the 
«8lf-consciousnes3  which  is  in  itself  complete,  and  which 
in  its  completeness  includes  the  world  as  its  object,"  is  only 
progressively  realized.*  Metaphysichas  to  deal  with  con- 
ditions of  the  knowable,  and  hence  with  self-consciousness 
ks  that  unity  which  is  implied  in  all  that  is  and  is  kno^vn. 
Psychology  has  to  inquire  how  this  seLf-consciousnes^  is 
nsalized  or  developed  in  man,  in  whom  the  consciousness 
of  self  grows  with  the  consciousness  of  a  world  in  space 
»nd  time,  of  which  he  individually  is  only  a  part,  and  to  parts 
•f  which  only  he  stands  in  immediate  relation.  In  con- 
•idering  the  former  question  we  are  considering  the  sphere 
within  which  all  knowledge  and  all  objects  of  knowledge  are 
•ontained.  In  considering  the  latter  we  are  selecting  one 
particular  object  or  class  of  objects  within  this  sphere, — 
although  no  doubt  it  must  make  a  great  difference  in  our 
treatment  of  this  object  that  we  have  to  consider  it  as 
asisting  not  only  for  'js  but  for  itself.  If  nature  "  becomes 
self-conscious  in  man,"  it  is  impossible  to  treat  man 
taerelt/  as  one  among  the  other  objects  of  nature.  But  it 
is  not  less  true  that  he  is  one  of  those  objects,  and,  in  this 
point  of  view,  the  department  of  science  and  philosophy 
that  deals  with  his  life  is  as  distinct  from  metaphysic — 
which  deals  \vith  the  conditions  of  all  knowing  and  being 
— as  is  astronomy  or  physics.  In  both  cases  we  h^ive 
before  us  objects  which  we  may  consider  in  themst-zes 
•part  from  their  relations  to  the  conscious  subject,  and 
in  both  cases  we  must  take  cognizance  of  these  relations  if 
wo  would  have  a  complete  and  final  view  of  those  objects. 
It  is  possible  to  have  a  purely  objective  anthropology  or 
psychology — which  abstracts  from  the  relation  of  man  to 
the  mind  that  knows  him — just  as  it  is  possible  to  have  a 
purely  objective  science  of  nature.  Such  a  natural  science 
•f  man,  however,  will  necessarily  abstract  at  the  same  'time 
from  the  fact  that  in  man  is  manifested  that  universal 
principle  in  relation  to  which  all  things  are  and  are  kno\rn. 
In  other  words,  it  will  omit  that  distinctive  characteristic  of 
man's  being  in  virtue  of  which  he  is  a  subject  of  knowledge 
and  a  moral  agent.  Hence  the  abstraction  in  this  case  is 
more  likely  to  lead  to  positive  error,  more  Ukely  to  produce 
Bot  only  an  imperfect  but  a  distorted  view  of  the  object. 
Inorganic  nature,  if  we  take  it  in  itse/f,  is  not  untruly 
Tiewed,  under  the  categories  of  causality  and  reciprocity, 
as  a  collection  of  objects  externally  determined  by  each 
<|ther ;  the  error  lies  only  in  taldng  it  as  if  it  could  exist 

'  Hume,  vol.  i.  p.  131  (Green's  edition). 


in  itself.  Even  organic  beings  do  not  suffer  much  injustici' 
in  being  brought  under  such  categories :  for,  though,  as 
living  and  still  more  as  sensitive  beings,  they  involve  in 
themeelves  and  in  their  relation  to  the  world  a  kind  of 
unity  of  differences  to  which  the  categories  of  external 
relation  imperfectly  correspond,  yet  they  are  not  such 
nnitics  for  tkemsel lies,  but  only  for  tif.  In  other  words,  the 
principle  through  which  they  are  and  are  known  is  still 
external  to  tliem.  Hence  also  they  are  determined  by 
outward  influences,  though  these  influences  act  rather  as 
stimuli  to  what  we  may  call  the  self-determined  movement 
of  their  own  life  than  as  mechanical  or  chemical  force* 
which  change  it.  But  in  man,  in  so  far  as  he  is  self-con 
s'-'ous, — and  it  is  self-consciousness  that  makes  him  man, 
— the  unity  through  which  all  things  are  and  are  known 
is  manifested ;  and  therefore  he  is  emancipated,  or  at 
least  is  continually  emancipating  himself,  from  the  law 
of  external  influence.  Nature  and  necessity  exist  for 
him  as  that  from  which  his  life  starts,  in  relation  to  which 
he  becomes  conscious  of  himself,  against  which  ho  ha.< 
to  assert  himself,  and  in  the  complete  overcoming  of 
which  hes  the  end  of  all  his  endeavour.  Nature  is  the 
negative  rather  than  the  positive  starting-point  of  his 
existence,  the  presupposition  against  which  he  reacts  rather 
than  that  on  which  he  proceeds ;  and,  therefore,  to  treat  him 
simply  as  a  natural  being  is  even  more  inaccurate  and 
misleading  than  to  forget  or  deny  his  relation  to  nature 
altogether.  A  true  psychology  must,  however,  avoid  both 
errors  ;  it  must  conceive  man  as  at  once  spiritual  and  natural ; 
it  must  find  a  reconciliation  of  freedom  and  necessity.  It 
must  face  all  the  difficulties  involved  in  the  conception 
of  the  absolute  principle  of  self-consciousness, — through 
which  all  things  are  and  are  known, — as  manifesting  itself 
in  the  life  of  a  being  like  man,  who  "  comes  to  himself  " 
only  by  a  long  process  of  development  out  of  the  uncon-. 
sciousness  of  a  merely  animal  existence. 

This  problem  first  presented  itself  in  a  distinct  form  in 
the  discussions  of  the  Socratic  school  as  to  the  nature  of 
knowledge,  discusisions  which  turn  mainly  upon  the  relation 
of  the  conscious  to  the  unconscious  element  in  thought. 
Socrates,  by  his  method  more  than  by  any  direct  state- 
ment, drew  attention  to  the  fact  that  all  particular  judg- 
ments in  morals  involve  or  presuppose  a  universal  principle. 
At  the  same  time  he  pointed  out  that,  so  far  from  this 
universal  principle  being  known  to  those  who  are  con- 
tinually making  such  judgments,  th-ey  are  not  even 
conscious  of  its  existence.  They  constantly  use  general 
terms  whose  meaning  they  have  never  even  thought  of 
defining.  The  beginning  of  a  rational  lifefor  them  must 
therefore  lie  in  their  becoming  conscious  of  their  ignorance, 
i.e.,  conscious  that  they  have  beer  all  along  judging,  and 
therefore  acting,  on  untested  and  even  unkno^vn  assump- 
tions. They  must  bring  the  unconscious  universal  to  the 
light  of  day  and  define  it,  for  until  that  i.^  done  It  is 
impossible  to  live  a  moral,  that  is,  a  rational  life.  "  Virtue 
is  knowledge,"  i.e.,  it  is  acting,  not  according  to  opinions, 
or  particidar  judgments, — whose  universal  is  unknown,  and 
which  therefore  may  be  regarded  as  expressing  merely  the 
impulses  or  habits  of  the  individual, — but  ip  view  of  a 
universal  principle  determined  by  reason. 

The  onesidednesrs  of  this  view- — which  absolutely  con- 
demns as  vice  all  virtue  that  is  not  based  on  conscious 
principle — was  partly  corrected  by  another  part  of  the 
doctrine  of  Socrates,  who  taught  that  knowledge  is  some- 
thing that  must  be  evolved  from  within  the  mind,  and  not 
merely  communicated  to  it  from  without.  For  this  impUes 
that  the  moral  principle  may  be  present  in  men's  minds, 
and  may  rule  their  thoughts  and  actions,  long  before 
they  become  directly  conscious  of  it.  They  are  rational 
although  they  have  never  thought  about  reason,  and  tliey 


90 


M  E  T  A  P  H  Y  S  I  C 


do  not  wait  for  acientiSo  ethics  to  judge  and  act  morally, 
any  more  than  they  wait  for  logic  to  reason  correctly.  It 
is  this  line  of  thought  which  13  universali2ed  and  mythically 
expressed  by  Plato  in  his  doctrine  of  "reminiscence." 
According  to  this  myth,  we  were  conscious  of  ideas  or 
universals  in  our  pre-natal  state ;  we  forgot  them  in  the 
shock  of  birth  into  this  mortal  life;  but  in  feeling  or 
sharing  the  rapture  of  the  poet  or  the  lover  we  recall  them 
03  identified  or  confused  with  individual  objects  which 
;"  are  like  them,  or  partake  in  them."  The  same  explana- 
tion is  given  of  the  practical  skill  of  the  general  and  the 
statesman,  and  even  of  tlie  "  right  opinion  "  which  guides 
the  ordinary  good  man.  Such  opinion  is  neither  knowledge 
nor  ignorance :  not  knowledge,  for  general  principles  or 
ideas  are  not  in  it  present  to  the  mind  as  ideas,  and  there- 
fore the  particular  cannot  be  distinctly  subsumed  under 
them ;  yet  not  ignorance,  for  the  ideas  are  after  all  present, 
though  wrapped  up  in  the  particulars  or  confused  with 
them.  Nay,  in  the  Theideim,  Plato  endeavours  to  show 
that  the  pure  particular  without  the  universal,  sensations 
without  ideas,  cannot  enter  into  our  consciousness  at  all, 
and  that  therefore  the  lowest  point  to  which  a  conscious 
being  can  descend  is  "  opinion,"  in  which  particular  and 
universal,  sensible  and  intelligible,  are  mingled  together. 
In  other  words,  no  conscious  being  can  apprehend  the 
particular  except  through  the  universal,  though  that  uni- 
versal may  be  present  only  in  consciousness  and  not  to 
it.  The  task  of  philosophy  is  therefore  only  to  make  men 
"recollect  themselves,"  i.e.,  to  make  self-conscious  that 
universality  of  thought  in  which  all  rational  beings 
"partake,"'  or  which,  in  the  language  of  later  philosophy, 
constitutes  reason.  The  imperfection  pf  Plato's  view  lay, 
however,  in  this,  that,  while  he  clearly  recognized  that  the 
condition  of  all  consciousneus  of  the  particular  is  the 
universal,  he  did  not  see  with  equal  clearness  that  the 
universal  has  a  meaning  only  in  relation  to  the  particular. 
And  this  tendency  to  separate  universal  from  particular  is 
naturally  accompanied  by  a  tendency  to  set  the  subjective 
against  the  objective,  and  to  regard  the  world,  not  as  the 
mapifestation  of  reason,  but  as  a  daalistic  world,  in  which 
reason  is  chained  to  a  lower  principle — a  world  which 
can  at  best  only  give  a  hint  or  suggestion  to  the  mind  to 
enable  it  to  recollect  itself  and  recover  for  itSelf  its  own 
treasures.  Thus  the  false  method  of  introspection,  the 
"  high  priori  road  "  of  mysticism,  was  at  least  opened  up 
by  Plato,  if  he  did  not  altogether  forsake  the  narrower 
and  harder  way  to  the  spiritual  world  through  nature  and 
experience. 

The  great  step  m  advance  taken  by  Aristotle  was  due  to 
his  seeing  the  danger  of  this  tendency.  Those,  however, 
T.'ho  have  maintained  that  Ai'isfotle  is  the  great  a  posteriori 
philosopher,' — as  Plato  is  the  great  a  priori  philosopher, — 
have  entirely  mistaken  the  bearing  of  Aristotle's  criticism 
of  the  Platonic  theory.  As  strongly  as  Plato  does  Aristotle 
maintain  that  reason  is  SwdVet  mvTa  ra  vorjrd,  and  that, 
therefore,  the  apprehension  of  truth  br/  the  mind  is  not  a 
mere  external  communication  of  it  to  the  mind,  but  rather 
is  the  mind  coming  to  a  consciousness  of  itself.  As  firmly 
as  Plato  does  he  declare  thai  truth  in  its  highest  form  is 
self-evidencing,  i.e.,  that  the  principles  of  science,  the  laws 
of  nature,  when  once  they  have  been  discovered,  are  seen 
to  be  true  by  their  own  light.  His  statements  to  this 
eifect  have  been  neglected  or  explained  away,  because 
they  were  supposed  to  be  inconsistent  with  his  still  more 
frequently  reiterated  assertions  that  it  is  only  from 
experience  and  by  induction  that  the  truth  of  things  can 
be  discovered.  Writers  of  a  later  day, — who  came  to 
Aristotle  with  an  idea  of  a  fixed  opposition  between  a 
priori  and  a  posteriori,  and  who  held  that  the  only  possible 
alternatives  were  either  to  divide  knowledge  between  the 


two  or  to  explain  away  one  of  (hem, — coula  not  coraprebead 
that  Aristotle  might  be  in  earnest  both  in  asserting  that 
knowledge  is  derived  from  experience  aTid.in  asserting  thut 
it  is  an  apprehension  by  reason  of  that  which  is  identical 
with  itself  and  needs  no  extraneous  evidence.  Bn^ 
Aristotle  started  with  no  such  fixed  opposition.  On  the 
contrary,  any  one  who  reads  the  last  chapter  of  tha 
Posterior  Analytics  will  see  that  he  had  no  difficulty  iii 
maintaining  that  knowledge  begins  in  the  apprehension  of 
TO  Kaff  cKacTTov  in  sense  perception,  and  that  it  proceeds 
from  many  perceptions  to  experience,  and  from  many 
experiences  to  science ;  while  at  the  same  time  he  declared 
that  the  principles  of  science  have  their  evidence  in  tliemJ 
selves.  And  the  meaning  of  this  declaration  is  6ho\ra  ia' 
the  Pe  Anima,  where  we  find  him  speaking  of  knowledge  as 
the  realization  in  the  "  passive  reason  "  of  man  of  an  "  active 
reason  "  which  is  eternal  and  unchangeable,  and  which  ia' 
the  consciousness  of  itself  includes  the  knowledge  of  all 
things.  Of  this  realization,  indeed,  there  is  in  man  only 
the  potentiality  or  capacity,  but  just  because  this  is  a  pur« 
or  universal  capacity,  because,  as  Aristotle  puts  it,  it  has  no 
quality  or  determination  of  its  own  to  stand  between  it  and 
its  objects,  it  is  a  capacity  in  v.hich  the  absolute  reason  can 
reahze  itself,  a  capacity  of  knowing  all  things.  Here  we 
have  Plato's  myth  of  reminiscence  freed  from  the  metaphor 
of  memory,  and  reduced  to  scientific  terms ;  for  that  myth 
simply  meant  that  the  evolution  of  knowledge  is  th« 
development  of  the  mind  to  the  consciousness  of  itself,  and 
of  all  that  is  potentially  in  it.  Only,  by  the  combination 
of  this  doctrine  with  the  idea  of  the  necessity  of  induction, 
Aristotle  at  the  same  time  guards  against  the  pureljr 
subjective  interpretation  to  which  in  Plato  it  was  liable^ 
For  the  process  by  v/hich  the  mind  "  comes  to  itself '.'  is 
conceived  as  a  process  by  which  at  the  same  time  it  rises 
from  the  particular  to  the  universal,  from  the  yvwpi/ia 
rj/xiv  to  the  yyiipi/ia  ajrXws,  from  the  bare  apprehension  of 
the  facts  of  experience  to  the  knowledge  of  them  througfc 
their  principles  or  lav/s. 

Yet  Aristotle  was  as  little  able  as  Plato  to  work  out  fully 
a  theory  of  the  relation  between  the  universal  and  th 
individr.r.1  reason ;  and  the  cause  of  this  failure  was  Ia 
both  cases  substantially  the  same.  In  Plato's  philosophy, 
the  ideal  tended  to  divorce  itself  from  the  phenomenal 
world  in  such  wiso  that  the  latter  was  regarded  only  as 
suggesting  or  partaking  in  the  former,  but  not  as  entirely 
explicable  by  it.  It  was  not  merely  that,  to  the  mind  of  the 
individual  in  its  progress,  the  veil  was  only  gradually  lifted 
from  the  rationality  of  the  world,  but  that  in  the  world 
there  was  an  irrational  element  from  which  the  mind 
could  save  itself  only  by  flight  into  the  region  of  abstrac- 
tion. And,  though  Aristotle  by  his  doctrine  of. the  essentia! 
relation  of  ideas  to  experience,  or  of  the  development  of 
the  mind  to  the  acquisition  of  knowledge  of  the  world, 
seemed  to  be  on  the  way  to  correct  this  error,  yet  he  too 
shrinks  from  regarding  the  pjienomenal  world  as  in  itself 
intelligible.  To  him  also  an  irrational  matter  mingles  with 
things,  and  is  in  them  a  source  of  contingency  and  imper- 
fection. Chance  is  not  merely  the  reflexion  upon  the  world 
of  our  imperfect  knowledge,  but  a  fact  of  experience,  and 
there  is  therefore  a  region  in  which  our  best  science  cannot 
rise  above  generality  to  universality.  In  this  way  thers 
remains  for  Aristotle  an  absolute  a  posteriori,  a  reality  which 
cannot  bo  understood,  and  which  we  can  scarcely  conceivs 
as  existing  at  all  for  the  divine  intelligence.  At  this  point 
the  Aristotelian  philosophy  appears  to  stand  between  two 
alternatives,  either  that,  in  the  sense  of  pantheism,  the  fintt* 
world  and  its  contingency  is  an  illusion,  or  that  it  is  con- 
tingent only  for  the  growing  intelligence  of  man,  which 
fully  understands  neither  itself  nor  the  world  which  is  its 
object.     Aristotle,  however,  docs  not  choose  either  horn  ol 


METAPHYSIC 


91 


the  dilemma,  and  leaves  ub  therefore  with  an  unresolved 
dualism  between  thought  and  its  object ;  and  this  again 
necessarily  involves  a  dualispa  between  the  active  reason, 
which,  as  he  asserts,  realizes  itself  in  man,  and  the  passive 
reason  which  constitutes  his  nature  as  a  finite  being. 

In  the  Middle  Ages  the  Platonic  and  Aristotelian  idea 
fliat  the  apprehension  of  objective  truth  is  one  with  the 
evolution  of  the  mind  to  self-consciousness  seemed  to  be 
entirely  lost.  Knowledge  of  the  finite  world. was  regarded 
as  ind&erent,  and  knowledge  of  the  infinite  was  conceived 
to  be  something  given  on  authority,  and  in  reference  to 
which  the  mind  was  confined  to  an  attitude  of  passive 
reception  or  implicit  faith.  No  greater  slavery  of  the 
spirit  can  be  conceived  than  that  in  which  even  the 
truths  of  religion  and  morality — the  truths  that  regard  the 
inmost  life  of  the  spirit  itself — were  takeu  as  a  lesson 
to  be  learned  by  rote  from  the  lips  of  a  teacher.  Yet 
the  consciousness  that  such  truth,  if  it  was  to  be  received 
by  the  mind,  still  more  if  it  was  to  transform  the  mind, 
could  not  be  entirely  foreign  to  it,  found  a  voice  in  the 
scholastic  philosophy.  And  the  compromise  or  truce 
between  faith  and  reason  expressed  in  the  saying  of  Anselm 
credo  ut  intelligapi, — according  to  which  reason  was  to 
confine  itself  to  the  analysis  and  demonstration  of  the  data 
received  in  implicit  faith  from  the  church, — prepared  the 
way  for  the  recognition  that  the  two  are  not  essentially 
at  variance.  The  mind  tfcat  proceeds  from  veneratio  to 
dehclado,  from  awe  and  submission  to  the  doctrine  to 
enjoyment  and  appreciation  of  it,  must  already  in  its  awe 
and  submission  have  the  beginnings  of  an  intelligent 
appreciation.  Anselm's  saying  might  be  understood  simply 
as  meaning  that  we  must  have  spiritual  experience  ere 
we  can  understand  the  things  of  the  spirit.  And  in  this 
sense  it  was  adopted  by  the  Reformers  to  express  an  idea 
almost  the  opposite  of  that  with  which  the  scholastics 
had  associated  it, — the  idea  that  the  direct  apprehension  of 
spiritual  truth  as  entering  into  the  inner  life  of  the  subject, 
as  identified  with  his  very  consciousness  of  self,  is  the  basis 
of  all  knowledge  of  it.  In  the  Protestant  church  of  the 
period  after  the  Reformation,  we  find  a  growing  tendency 
to  insist  on  the  subjectivity  of  religion,  in  the  same  exclusive 
and  one-sided  way  iu  which  the  mediaeval  church  had 
insisted  on  its  objectivity.  In  some  extreme  representa- 
tives of  Protestantism  this  went  so  far  as  to  lead  to  a 
disregard,  almost  to  a  rejection,  of  all  objective  doctrine, 
and  a  reduction  of  theology  to  an  account  of  the  religious 
consciousness.  On  the  other  hand,  Tyhile  religion  was  thus 
made  subjective,  science  claimed  to  be  purely  objective, 
and  the  followers  of  Bacon  seemed  to  adopt  towards  nature 
the  same  attitude  of  passive  receptivity  which  the  mediaeval 
Christian  was  taught  to  hold  towards  the  church.  WTiile 
man  was  to  learn  everything  from  himself  in  religion,  he 
was  to  learn  nothing  from  himiself  in  science.  His  aim 
must  be  to  exclude  subjective  idola,  in  other  words,  to 
accept  the  facts  as  they  were  given,  and  keep  himself  out  of 
ihe  way.  The  inevitable  result  of  this  difference  of  view 
as  to  the  nature  of  knowledge  in  these  two  different 
regions  was,  however,  on  the  one  hand  a  withdrawal  of 
religion  from  all  connexion  with  finite  interests,  and, 
especially  from  the  attempt  to  connect  religious  principles 
with  the  knowledge  of  the  finite  world,  and,  on  the  other 
hand,  an  increasing  tendency  in  those  who  represented 
£nite  science  to  regard  religion  as  something  merely 
subjective  and  even  individual,  as  a  feeling  which  could 
not  be  translated  into  thought  or  made  the  basis  of  any 
knowledge  of  the  objective  world. 

The  opposite  principles  of   certitude  which  were  thus 

,  «et  up  for  religious  truth  and  truth  of  science  need  only 

.to  be  brought  together  and  contrasted  to  betray  that  they 

Jest  upon  opposite  abstractions,  neither  of  v/hich  expresses 


the  complete  nature  of  truth  or  knowledge.  On  tho  onj 
hand  the  truths  of  religion  were  maintained  just  because 
they  were  not,  or  v.-ere  not  merely,  objective,' but. were 
capable  of  being  tested  by  inner  experience,  and  identified 
with  the  self-consciousness  of  the  individual  On  the  other 
hand  the  truths  of  science  were  maintained  because  they 
were  not,  or  were  not  merely,  subjective,  but  were  capable 
of  being  verified  in  objective  experience.  It  was  rightly 
seen  oa  the  one  side  +hat  mere  subjective  feelings  or 
opinions  have  no  validity  for  any  one  but  the  subject  of 
them,  and  on  the  other  side  that  what  is  merely  objective 
or  externally  given  can  have  permanent  value  and  interest 
for  the  intelligence  only  as  it  ceases  to  be  mere  isolated 
and  unrelated  fact — nay,  that,  even  when  science  has 
discovered  law  and  order  in  nature,  it  still  wants  the 
highest  value  and  interest  so  long  as  that  law  and  order  are 
not  seen  as  standing  in  essential  relation  to  the  intelligence 
itself.  The  idea  of  truth  or  knowledge  as  that  which  is  at 
once  objective  and  subjective,  as  the  unity  of  things  T,-ith  the 
mind  that  knows  them,  enables  us  fo  understand  the  con- 
demuation  which  the  religious  mind  passed  upon  a  merely 
external  dogma,  and  even  its  lack  of  interest  in  a  science 
which  presented  itself  as  an  account  of  merely  objective  or 
external  facts.  And  it  enables  us  also  to  understand  the 
way  in  which  scientific  men  insisted  upon  objective  fact 
as  the  basis  of  all  knowledge,  and  the  disrespect  which 
they  felt  for  a  religion  which  seemed  to  admit  that  it  had 
no  such  support.  ^¥hat  is  wanted  to  clear  up  the  confusion 
on  both  sides  is  the  growth  of  the  perception  among 
Bcientifio  men  that  the  objectivity  which  they  are  seeking 
cannot  be  mere  objectivity  (which  would  be  unmeaning), 
but  an  objectivity  that  stands  in  essential  relation 'to  the 
inteOigence,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  the  growth  of  the 
perception  among  religious  men  that  the  subjectivity  of 
religion  only  means  that  God,  who  is  the  objective  principle 
by  whom  things  are,  and  are  known,  is  spiritual,  and  can 
therefore  be  revealed  to  the  spirit.  When  these  two  cor- 
rections have  been  made,  it  must  become  obvious  that  the 
religious  consciousness  is  not  the  consciousness  of  another 
object  than  that  which  is  present  in  finite  experience  and 
science,  but  simply  a  higher  way  of  knowing  the  same 
-object.  And  in  this  it  is  also  involved  that  the  two  ideas 
of  a  priori  and  a  posteriori,  of  that  which  is  evolved  from 
within  and  that  which  is  given  from  without,  are  not 
essentially  opposed  to  each  other,  but  that  the  o  posteriori 
is  simply  the  first  form  of  a  consciousness  which  in  its 
ultimate  development  must  become  a  priori. 

In  that  philosophy  of  compromise  which  was  initiated 
by  Descartes,  onepart  of  knowledge  was  regarded  as  innate, 
or  developed  from  within,  and  another  part  as  empirical, 
or  imparted  from  without.  .In  the  second  period  of  the 
history  of  modern  philosophy  this  compromise  was  broken, 
and  the  names  of  Locke  and  Leibnitz — though  with  some 
hesitation  on  both  sides — represent  respectively  the  theories 
that  all  knowledge  is  a  posteriori  and  that  all  knowledge 
'  is  a  priori.  The  compromise  seemed  to  be  renewed  with 
Kant,  but  the  form  in  which  it  was  renewed  pointed,  as 
has  been  already  shown,  to  something  more  than  a  com- 
promise, for  his  doctrine  was  that  the  a  posteriori  element, 
the  facts,  exist  for  us  only  under  a  priori  conditions,  or, 
in  other  words,  that  what  is  usually  called  a  posteriori 
is  in  part  a  priori.  The  criticism  of  this  view  need  not 
be  repeated.  It  is  sufficient  here  to  say  that  if,  as  Kant 
shows,  the  elements  are  inseparable  or  organically  united, 
it  is  impossible  to  allege  that  so  much  belongs  to  the  one 
and  so  much  to  the  other.  Furthermore,  the  consciousmiss 
of  an  essential  difference  in  the  elements  of  knowledge  is 
possible  only  so  far  as  that  difference  is  transcended  by  the 
unity  of  knowledge.  We  can  distinguish  the  o  priori  from 
the  a  posteriori  only  on  condition  that  we  can  transcen4 


92 


M  E  T  A  P  H  Y  S  I  0' 


the  distinction,  and  this  means  that  the  distinction  itself 
is  not  absolute,  but  that  there  is  a  point  of  view  from 
which  the  a  posteriori  may  be  regarded  as  a  priori,  and 
that  which  is  given  from  mthout  to  the  spirit  may  be 
referred  to  its  own  self-determined  development. 

Now  it  is  just  here  that  we  come  upon  the  turning-point 
of  the  philosophical  controversy,  in  the  form  which  it  has 
taken  in  modern  times.  The  problem  may  be  expressed 
thus — In  what  sense  can  we  apply  the  idea  of  development 
to  the  human  spirit  ?  Are  we  to  tref.t  that  development 
as  merely  a  determination  from  without,  or  as  an  evolution 
from  within,  or  as  partly  the  one  and  partly  the  other  ? 
In  a  sense  all  writers  of  the  present  day  would  admit  that 
this  last  is  the  case.  For,  on  the  one  hand,  even  the 
Darwinian  theory  accounts  for  development  by  aid  of 
what  we  may  call  the  a  priori  tendency  of  the  individual 
to  maintain  itself  in  the  struggle  for  existence,  though  it 
supposes  that  the  condition  or  medium  in  which  the  indi- 
ividual  is  placed  determines  the  direction  in  which  that 
'development  proceeds.  And,  on  the  other  hand,  no  one 
.now  would  adopt  the  Leibnltzian  theory  that  the  indi- 
vidual is  a  monad,  whose  self-development  is  entirely  con- 
ditioned by  itself  in  such  a  sense  that  all  the  relations 
iwiiich  it  has  to  other  existences  are  merely  apparent,  and 
that  the  coincidence  of  its  life  with  the  lite  of  the  world  is 
the  result  of  a  pre-established  harmony.  On  both  sides, 
therefore,  the  idea  of  self-determmatiou  would  be  admitted, 
though  the  tendency  of  the  Darwinians  would  be  to  regard 
this  self-determination  as  something  merely  formal ;  and 
on  both  sides  it  would  also  be  admitted  that  the  self- 
determination  does  not  exclude  a  determination  from  with- 
out, though  extreme  opponents  of  Darwin  might  be  inclined 
,to  reduce  this  determination  to  a  mere  stimulus  or  external 
condition  of  the  development  of  the  nature  of  the  subject 
to  which  the  stimulus  i.s  applied.  The  question,  however, 
remains  whether,  after  all,  this  opposition  of  without  and 
within  is  an  absolute  one,  or  whether  there  is  any  point  of 
view  from  which  it  may  be  transcended.  To  Aristotle  it 
seemed  possible  to  answer  this  question  in  the  afiirmative, 
because  he  conceived  that  the  reason  of  man  is  a  pure  or 
universal  Swo/iit,  the  evolution  of  which  to  complete  self- 
consciousness  is  one  with  the  process  whereby  the  objective 
world  comes  to  be  known.  Yet,  as  Aristotle  admitted  the 
existence  in  the  world  of  a  material  principle  which  was 
essentially  different  from  the  ideal  principle  of  reason,  he 
was  obliged  to  limit  his  statement  as  to  the  possible  unity 
of  the  subjective  and  the  objective  consciousness,  and  to 
say  merely  that  "  in  things  vnthout  matter  the  knower  is 
identical  with  the  known."  But  this  would  immediately 
lead  to  the  conclusion  that  the  pure  development  of  reason 
must  be  secured  by  abstraction  from  all  finite  and  material 
objects,  rather  than  by  a  thorough  comprehension  of  them. 
The  freedom  of  the  spirit,  on  this  theory,  must  be  a  negative 
and  not  a  positive  freedom,  a  freedom  won,  not  by  over- 
coming the  world,  but  by  withdrawing  ourselves  from  its 
influence.  It  remained,  therefore,  for  modern  philosophy 
to  work  out  the  Aristotelian  idea  that  the  rational  being 
as  such,  in  spite  of  its  necessary  relation  to  and  depend- 
ence on  an  external  world,  is  never  in  an  absolute  sense 
externally  determined.  And,  as  wo  have  already  seen,  the 
Kantian  philosophy  brought  this  problem  within  the  reach 
of  solution,  in  so  far  as  it  showed,  first,  that  objective 
existence  can  have  no  meaning  except  existence  for  a 
thinking  self,  and,  secondly,  that  existence  for  a  thinking 
self  means  existence  the  consciousness  of  which  is  "  capable 
of  being  combined  with  the  consciousness  of  self."  Add 
further  to  these  propositions  what  was  shown  by  Kant's 
successors,  that  that  only  can  be  combined  with  the  con- 
sciousness of  self  which  is  essentially  related  to  it,  and  wo 
Snrive  at  an  idealistic  theory  of  the  world,  which  enables 


us  at  once  to  underEtan'''i  the  relative  value  of  the  distinct 
tion  between  self-determination  and  determination  from 
without,  and  at  the  same  time  to  see  that  its  value  is  onlj 
relative.  If  it  be  true  that  nothing  exists  which  is  not  a 
possible  object  of  consciousness,  and  again  that  there  is  no 
possible  object  of  consciousness  which  is  not  essentially 
rek'ted  to  self-consciousnes.s,  then  the  phenomena  of  tli'o 
external  world,  which  at  first  present  themselves  under  tlie 
aspect  of  contingent  facts,  must  be  capable  of  being  ulti- 
mately recognized  as  the  manifestation  of  reason  ;  and  the 
history  of  the  conscious  being  in  his  relations  with  that 
world  is  net  a  struggle  between  two  independent  and 
unrelated  forces,  but  the  evolution  by  antagonism  of  one 
spiritual  principle.  It  is,  on  this  view,  the  same  life  which, 
within  us  is  striving  for  development,  and  which  without) 
us  conditions  that  development.  And  the  reason  why  the 
two  term.s,  the  self  and  the  not-self,  thus  appear  to  boi 
independent  of  each  other,  or  to  be  brought  together  only] 
as  they  externally  act  or  react  upon  each  other,  lies  in  this, 
that  the  object  is  imperfectly  known,  and  the  subject  ia 
imperfectly  self-conscious.  This,  however,  does  not  make  it 
less  true  that  in  self-consciousness  is  to  be  found  the  prin- 
ciple in  reference  to  which  the  whole  process  may  be 
explained,  and  therefore  that  the  self-conscious  subject,  as 
such,  lives  a  life  which  belongs  to  him,  not  merely  as  one 
object  among  others,  but  as  having  in  himself  the  principle 
from  which  the  life  and  being  of  all  proceeds. 

From  this  point  of  view,  as  has  been  already  indicated,' 
the  relative  value  of  a  theory  of  human  development,  such 
as  that  which  might  be  based  on  the  ideas  of  Darwin, 
would  not  be  denied.  The  conscious  being  may  be  regarded 
simply  as  an  externally  determined  object,  and  the  incorrectr 
ness  of  this  assumption  will  not  entirely  destroy  the  value 
of  the  results  attained,  especially  if,  as  is  often  the  case 
with  those  who  seek  to  construct  a  natural  science  of  man, 
the  assimiption  itself  is  not  very  strictly  adhered  to,  but 
corrected  by  the  tacit  admission  of  other  conceptions  some- 
what inconsistent  with  it.  But,  at  the  same  time,  it  woulfl 
require  to  be  pointed  out  that  such  a  science  is  necessarily 
abstract  and  imperfect,  as  it  omits  from  its  view  the 
central  fact  in  the  life  of  the  object  of  which  it  treats.  It 
can  do  nothing  to  account  for  man's  consciousness,  or  his 
capacity  of  becoming  conscious,  of  the  influences  by  which 
he  is  supposed  to  be  determined ,  or,  to  put  it  from  the 
other  side,  it  takes  for  granted  that  the  objects  that 
influence  man  are  intelligible  objects,  "capable  of  being 
combined  with  the  consciousness  of  self,"  without  seeing, 
how  much  is  involved  in  this  assumption.  Now  it  is 
evident  that  the  consciousness  of  an  influonce  cannot  bo 
explained  by  the  influence  itself,  nor  even  by  that  taken 
together  with  the  nature  of  the  sensitive  beings  subjected 
to  it.  It  is  evident  also  that  an  influence  mediated  by 
consciousness  is  not,  strictly  speaking,  an  external  influonce, 
but  that  it  is  already  transformed,  and  in  jirocess  of  being 
further  transformed,  by  the  development  of  the  self  to 
which  it  is  present.  For  the  dawn  of  consciousness,  in 
which  the  external  object  first  comes  into  existence  for  us 
as  opposed  to  the  self,  is  at  the  same  time  the  beginning 
of  the  process  by  which  its  externality  is  negated  or  over, 
come.  Self-consciousness  is  that  which  makes  us  indi-- 
viduals  in_a  sense  in  which  individuality  can  be  predicated 
of  none  but  a  self-conscious  being.  For,  in  determinina 
himself  as  a  self,  the  individual  at  the  same  time  exclude^ 
from  himself  every  other  thing  and  being,  and  detcrminea 
them  as  external  objects.  lie  emancipates  himself  from 
the  world  at  the  same  time  that  he  repels  the  world  from' 
himself.  Yet  this  movement  of  thought,  by  which  hw 
individuality  is  constituted,  is  also  that  by  which  he  is  liftedj 
above  mere  individuality,  for,  in  becoming  conscious  of  sell 
and  not-self  in  their  opposition  and  relation,  he  ceases  tQ 


METAPHYSIC 


93 


be  simply  identified  with  the  one  to  the  exclusion  of  the 
other.  His  finite  individutility  is  regarded  by  him  from  a 
universal  point  of-  view,  in  which  it  has  no  less  and  no  more 
importance  than  any  other  individuality,  or  in  which  its 
greater  or  less  importance  is  determined  only  by  its  place 
in  the  whole.  On  this  universality  of  consciousness  rests 
the  possibility  of  science  and  of  morality.  For  all  science 
is  just  a  contemplation  of  the  world  in  ordir.e  ad  univfrsum 
and  not  in  ordine  ad  individuum  ;  and  all  morality  is  just 
action  with  a  view  to  an  interest  which  belongs  to  the 
agent,  not  as  this  individual,  but  as  a  member  of  a  greater 
whole,  and  ultimately  of  the  absolute  whole  in  which  all 
men  and  all  things  are  included. 

In  this  nature  of  the  conscious  subject  lies  also  the 
possibility  of  metaphysic  in  the  sense  of  Aristotle,  as  that 
science  which  goes  back  to  a  vpCrrov  <j>v<TeL,  a  beginning 
which  is  prior  to  the  existence  in  consciousness  of  the 
individual  self,  and  onward  to  an  end  in  which  the  divisions 
of  the  finite  consciousness  are  transcended, — as  including, 
in  short,  ontology,  or  metaphysic  in  the  narrower  sense,  on 
the  one  side,  and  theology,  or  the  philosophy  of  religion, 
on  the  other.  In  truth,  these  two  extremes  of  science  are 
necessarily  bound  together :  we  can  only  go  back  to  the 
beginning  if  we  can  go  on  to  the  end ;  we  can  only  recover 
the  first  unity  if  we  can  anticipate  the  last.  Or,  to  free 
the  subject  more  definitely  from  the  associations  of  time, 
we  cannot  apprehend  the  unity  which  is  involved  or  pre- 
supposed in  all  the  differences  of  our  conscious  life  except 
in  so  far  as  we  can  look  at  our  individual  existence  from 
the  point  of  view  of  the  whole  to  which  it  belongs.  This 
will  become  evident  if  we  consider  the  nature  of  the  limits 
which  have  to  be  transcended  by  such  a  science.  The 
individual  conscious  subject,  as  he  finds  himself  at  first, 
is  but  one  being  in  a  world  that  stretches  out,  apparently 
without  limits,  on  every  side  of  him.  Of  the  things  by 
which  he  is  immediately  surrounded  he  sees  but  a  small 
part,  and  the  influences  which  he  receives  from  them  are, 
as  he  knows,  like  the  wave  that  breaks  upon  a  shore  from 
an  unknown  ocean,  only  the  last  partial  expression  of 
impulses  that  come  from  regions  beyond  his  ken.  Again, 
he  finds  himself  as  one  in  a  changing  series  of  beings,  of 
which  he  knows  only  the  last  preceding  terms,  and  he  is 
aware  that  in  a  few  years  he,  as  one  of  this  series,  will 
cease  to  be.  He  is  thus  to  himself  a  definitely  limited 
being,  and  though  his  knowledge  of  himself  and  his  world 
may  be  gradually  widened  so  as  to  reach-  some  little  way 
back  into  the  past,  and  anticipate  a  little  of  the  future,  or 
may  go  outwards  in  space  to  embrace  a  widening  circle  of 
existences  around  him,  yet  he  always  stops  at  a  limit,  of 
which  he  is  conscious  that  it  is  no  absolute  limit,  but 
simply  an  arbitrary  halting-place  where  vision  grows 
indistinct  and  imperfect.  When  he  reflects  upon  himself 
from  this  point  of  view,  he  is  forced  to  regard  himself  as 
but  a  fragment,  and  a  fragment  of  an  unknown  whole,  by 
which  his  whole  being  is  determined  to  be  what  it  is. 
His  highest  knowledge  seems  to  be  but  a  consciousness 
of  his  ignorance,  his  highest  freedom  a  determination  by 
motives  the  ultimate  meaning  of  which  is  hid  -from  him. 

So  far  there  seems  to  be  no  room  for  any  metaphysical 
knowledge,  -any  knowledge  of  ourselves  and  our  world 
which  is  other  than  relative  and  in  ordiru  ad  individuum. 
But  further  reflexion  shows  that  in  this  very  consciousness 
of  limit  there  is  implied  a  consciousness  of  that  which  is 
beyond  limit.  While  we  proceed  from  part  to  part,  beginning 
with  ourselves  and  our  immediate  surroundings,  and  follow- 
ing out  lines  of  connexion  that  lose  themselves  in  the  dis- 
tance, we<  are  guided  by  a  consciousness  of  the  whole  as  a 
4inity  through  which  the  parts  are  determined.  Nay,  it  is 
just  the  presence  of  this  consciousness  that  makes  us  capable 
of  what  seems  the  piecework  of  our  knowledge,  in  which, 


by  the  aid  of  the  principle  of  causality,  we  connect  parti- 
cular with  particular,  and  so  gradually  extend  the  sphere 
of  light  into  the  encompassing  darkness.  For  that 
principle  simply  means  that  the  limited  external  object 
does  not  suflSciently  explain  to  us  its  own  existence,  and 
that  therefore  we  are  forced  to  explain  it  by  a  reference  to 
something  beyond  it.  It  means,  in  other  words,  that  wa 
cannot  rest  in  that  which  is  not  a  self-bounded,  self- 
determined  whole.  The  application  of  the  category  of 
external  determination  has  therefore  an  essential  reference 
to  the  higher  category  of  self-determination.  The  mere 
endlessness  of  space  and  time  has  no  meaning  except  in 
opposition,  yet  in  relation,  to  the  true  infinity  of  which 
we  find  the  type  in  self-conscious  thought  Or,  to  put  it 
in  the  Kantian  form  in  which  it  is  already  familiar  to  us, 
the  consciousness  of  the  objective  world  in  space  and  time 
stands  in  essential  relation  to  the  unity  of  self-conscious- 
ness. And  if  when  we  regard  the  former  exclusively  we 
are  forced  to  view  ourselves  as  insignificant  and  diort- 
sighted  finite  beings  in  an  infinite  universe,  when  we 
regard  the  latter  we  are  enabled  to  see  that  in  all  this 
universe  there  is  revealed  only  that  spiritual  principle 
which  we  find  also  in  ourselves.  In  this  way  a  new  light 
is  thrown  on  our  first  consciousness  of  ignorance.  The 
strivings  of  our  reason  after  knowledge  can  no  longerbe 
regarded  as  strivings  after  an  unknown  goal,  but  rather 
after  a  goal  which  it  has  prescribed  for  itself.  The  narrow 
limits  of  our  individual  life  are  not  removed,  but  they 
cease  to  be  for  us  the  limits  of  a  narrow  circle  of  definition 
within  a  formless  infinite.  They  become  the  limits  of  a 
sphere  within  a  sphere,  a  sphere  which  is  defined  by  the 
idea  of  knowledge  or  self-consciousness  itself,  and  in  which 
therefore,  however  we  may  wander,  we  are  every\vhere  at 
home.  In  religious  language,  the  sphere  is  not  a  mere 
universe,  but  God,  who  is  without  us  only  as  He  is  within 
us,  so  that  "by  the  God  within  wo  can  understand  the 
God  without." 

Again,  as.  this  consciousness  takes  man  beyond  his 
immediate  existence,  and  enables  him  to  determine  it  in 
relation  to  an  absolute  unity  of  all  things  in  God,  so  it 
enables  him  to  go  back  to  a  unity  which  is  behind  or 
prior  to  that  existence.  For,  if  the  individual  can  look  at 
himself  as  he  looks  at  others,  and  at  others  as  he  looks  at 
himself,  i.e.,  from  a  point  of  view  which  is  unaffected  by 
his  individuality,  and  in  which  that  individuality  is  for  him 
only  what  it  is  for  impartial  reason,  he  can  have  nothjng  in 
him  which  binds  his  consciousness  to  hia  individuality  ail 
mere  individuality ;  as  therefore  he  can  go  beyond  himself 
to  apprehend  the  whole  in  which  his  individuality  has  a 
place,  there  is  nothing  to  prevent  him  from  going  back 
upon  himself,  and  upon'  the  conditions  which  are  prior  to 
his  own  individual  being.  H^  is  not  tied  to  his  immediate 
life,  and  can  go  below  it  just  as  he  can  rise  above  it. 

"  O  God,  I  think  Thy  thoughts  after  Thee,"  said  Kepler. 
In  reading  the  "  thoughts "  written  in  the  planetary 
system,  Kepler  was  discovering  the  meaning  of  that 
which  is  simpler  and  more  elementary  than  the  existence 
of  man,  as  a  cycle  of  mechanical  relations  are  simpler  apd 
more  elementary  than  self-consciousness.  Yet  it  was  a 
true  feeling  that  led  him  to  connect  this  descent  into  the 
mechanical  world  with  God.  For  it  is  only  in  virtue  of 
the  same  faculty  which  enables  us  to  rise  to  the  absolute 
life  which  includes  and  subordinates  our  own  that  we  can 
so  free  us  from  the  image  of  cur  own  conscious  life  as  to 
apprehend  and  fix  in  thought  the  simpler  relations  of 
purely  physical  existence.  But  the  same  faculty  of  going 
back  upon  ourselves  has  a  still  deeper  manifestation. 
Not  only  can  we  abstract  from  ourselves  so  as  to  under- 
stand the  inorganic  world,  we  can  also  abstract  from  oup- 
selves  so  as  to  understand  the  conditions  which  are  prior 


94 


.METAPJBYSIC 


to  the  tHought,  and  therefore  to  the  existence,  of  any 
.objective  external  world  at  all,  the  universal  conditions  of 
the  knowablo  and  therefore  also,  of  reality.  In  doing  so, 
to  use  Hegel's  metaphor,  which  is  but  an  extension  of 
Kepler's,  we  are  "thinking  what  God  thought  and  was 
hefore  the  creation  of  the  world,"  i.e.,  wo  arc  thinking  the 
spiritual  unity  presuppossd  in  all  knoiB  ledge,  and  therefore 
in  all  objects  of  knowledge^the  consciousness  in  relation 
to  which  everything  is,  and  is  known. 

A,  T/ie  Rdation  of  Logic  io  Melaphysic. — The  ordinary 
view  of  logic  is  based  on  two  presuppositions  which  tend  to 
separate  it  almost  entirely  from  metaphysic  :  it  is  based  on 
the  presupposition  of  an  opposition,  or  at  least  a  merely 
external  relation,  between  thought  and  its  object,  and  again 
of  an  opposition,  or  merely  external  relation,  between  the 
form  or  method  and  the  content  or  matter  of  thought.  The 
intelligence  is  regarded  as  dealing  with  an  object  which  is 
given  to  it  externally,  and  to  which,  therefore,  it  can  be 
true  only  if  it  leaves  it  unchanged  and  introduces  into  it 
nothing  of  its  own.  Trnth,  to  use  a  well-known  definition, 
is  the  agreement  of  our  conceptions  with  their  objects,  and 
in  bringing  about  this  agreement  all  the  concessions  must 
be  on  the  side  of  thought.  Conformably  to  this  view,  the 
processes  of  thought  must  be  purely  analytic;  i.e.,  thought 
may  break  up  the  given  idea  of  the  object  into  its  con- 
stituent elements,  and  again  out  of  these  elements  it  may 
recompose  the  idea  in  its  unity,  but  it  can  add  nothing  and 
■take  nothing  away.  It  is  like  an  instrument  which 
alternately  dissects  a  solid  mass  into  smaller  parts  and 
again  mechanically  presses  them  together,  but  which 
never  penetrates  and  dissolves  the  hard  matter,  still  less 
fuses  it  into  a  new  form  by  bringing  it  into  contact  with 
new  chemical  elements. 

This  conception,  like  much  of  the  philosophy  of  which 
it  is  a  specimen,  is  a  kind  of  exaggerated  .caricature  of  one 
aspect  of  the  philosophy  of  Aristotle.  Aristotle  is  the 
great  analytic  philosopher.  He  first  laid  down  boundaries 
in  that  continuous  domain  of  science  which  Plato  had  first 
surveyed.  Not  that  he  ever  completely  lost  sight  of  the 
unity  or  continuity  of  the  different  sciences  which  he  thus 
distinguished.  His  unrivalled  speculative  genius  is  shown 
nowhere  more  clearlythanin  those  not  unfrequent  utterances 
of  speculative  insight  into  the  unity  of  things  different,  by 
which,  as  at  a  stroke,  he  makes  his  own  landmarks  and  aU 
landmarks  to  disappear.  Yfet  such  utterances  generally 
stand  by  themselves,  and  do  not  alter  the  general  analytic 
spirit  of  his  philosophy.  They  are  not  so  developed  as  to 
show  distinctly  the  merely  relative  character  of  the  divisions 
and  distinctions  which  are  set  up,  or  the  limits  of  the  sphere 
within  which  they  hold  good.  Hence  it  was  easy  for 
minds  which  pos.sessed  something  of  Ai'istotle's  keenness 
of  understanding  without  his  speculative  depth  to  neglect 
such  expres.sions,  or  to  explain  them  away.  And  this 
process  of  degradation  was  the  more  rapid  as  the  philosophy 
of  Aristotle  soon  ceased  to  be  studied  in  his  own  writings, 
and  became  a  traditionary  possession  of  the  schools.  In 
this  way  we  may  partly  explain  how  logic  came  to  be 
regarded  by  modiaoval  philosophy  as  a  form  of  thought 
which  could  be  altogether  separated  from  the  matter,  and 
by  the  application  of  which  that  matter  could  be  in  no  way 
affected  or  changed.  But  for  such  a  view,  indeed,  it  is 
difficult  to  conceive  how  the  schoolmen  could  have  ventured 
to  apply  any  logical  procc2.sc3  at  all  to  the  sacred  matter  of 
dograra.  The  idea  of  externally  adding  anything  to  the 
faith  once  delivered  to  the  saints  was  excluded  by  the 
principle  of  authority ;  and  the  idea  of  developing  out  of 
that  faith  anything  that  was  not  immediately  contained  in 
it  had  not  yet  presented  itself  to  any  one.  Hence  the 
business  of  thought  seemed  to  be  purely  formal  and 
analytic,  and  it  was  only  on  the  plea  of  its  being  such  that 


its  activity  could  be  tolerated  at  all  Nor  was  this  view, 
of  logic  at  once  changed  by  the  revolt  against  scholasticism.' 
The  first  philosophical  exponents  of  the  modem  scientific 
movement,  while  they  rejected  the  matter  of  dogma  as 
fictitious,  or  at  least  as  transcending  the  sjAere  of  positive 
knowledge,  and  while  they  substituted  in  its  place,  as  the 
oljcct  of  investigation,  the  facts  of  exiierience,  did  not 
realize  any  more  than  the  schoolmen  that  the  form  and 
method  of  knowledge  could  be  other  than  analytic  of  given 
matter.  Bacon,  their  protagoni-st,  was  above  all  solicitous 
to  guard  against  any  subjective  aji/icjpa^j'o  nalurw,  nor  did. 
lie  see  that  the  questions  which,  in  his  theory  of  forms,' 
he  proposed  that  science  should  ask  of  nature  themselves 
involved  any  preconceived  theory  regarding  it.  Conscious, 
as  every  true  scientific  man  must  be,  that  the  study  of 
nature  involves  a  constant  self-abnegation,  a  patient  self- 
distrustful  coiu-se  of  experiment  and  observation,  he  an  I 
his  followers  did  not  realize  the  presuppositions  that  mak  • 
the  inquiry  possible,  and  by  which  it  must  be  guided.  Still 
less  did  they  recognize  that  the  separation  between  the 
mind  and  its  object  which  they  took  for  granted  can  only 
be  a  relative  division,  i.e.,  a  division  on  the  basis  of  a 
unity,  and  that  therefore  the  self-abnegation  of  the  mind 
in  its  investigation  of  facts  cannot  be  an  absolute  self- 
abnegation,  but  is  only  the  first  step  on  the  way  to  the 
discovery  that  the  facts  are  intelligible,  and  so  essentially 
related  to  the  intelligence.  Hence  to  them  logic  still 
seemed  a  mere  analytic  process,  the  end  and  aim  of  which 
was  understood  to  be  that  a  world,  existing  in  itself  out 
of  relation  to  thought,  should  be  reproduced  in  a  more  or 
less  imperfect  imaf  in  thought.  And,  when  it  came  to  be 
suspected  bj'  a  less  naive  philosopliy  of  experience  that, 
after  all,  certain  presuppositions,  not  givenr  in  experience 
itself,  were  involved  in  the  scientific  interpretation  of  it, 
various  expedients  were  devised  to  reduce  these  presupposi- 
tions in  an  indirect  way  to  empirical  truths, — expedients 
of  which  Jlill's  attempt  to  base  the  law  of  causality  upon 
an  indnctio  per  enumerationem  simpliceni  may  be  taken  aa 
the  type. 

when  we  go  back  to  Aristotle, — who  was  the  "founder 
of  logic "  in  the  sense  that  he  was  the  first  who  treated 
logical  method  as  a  separate  branch  of  science, — we  find 
that  his  division  of  logic  from  metaphysic  is  by  no  means 
so  definite  and  complete  as  it  was  made  by  some  of  his 
successors.  The  verification  of  the  highest  principle  of 
thought,  the  law  of  contradiction,  is  treated  bj-  him  as  the 
business  of  metaphysic.  And,  though  he  separates  the  idea 
of  truth  from  the  idea  of  reality,  and  regards  the  former 
as  involving  a  relation  of  thought  to  a  reality  which  is 
determined  in  itself  independent  of  that  relation,  yet  ho 
does  not  regard  this  independence  as  by  any  means  absolute. 
Truth  is  defined  by  him  as  a  connexion  or  distinction  of 
ideas  which  corresponds  to  a  union  or  separation  of  things, 
but  does  not  necessarily  so  correspond.  This  definition, 
however,  holds  good  only  in  so  far  as  things  are  net 
scientifically  knowm,  or  in  so  far  as  things  not  essentially 
related  are  brought  together  Kara  <ri'/j/3c^i;Ko'9.  Where 
necessity  cOraes  in,  and  is  apprehended  by  reason,  the 
case  is  different.  For  in  that  case  we  have  not  merely 
an  external  synthesis,  but  an  essential  identity,  i.e.,  a  unity 
of  elements  which  can  neither  be,  nor  be  known,  apart 
from  each  other.  ■  In  relation  to  the  principles  of  science, 
therefore,  Aristotle  holds  that  error,  i.e.,  a  connexion  of 
ideas  not  corresponding  to  a  connexion  of  things,  is  impos 
sible,  and  that  the  only  alternatives  arc  knowledge  and  ig 
norance.  Either  we  possess  the  idea  or  we  do  not  possess  it; 
as  Aristotle  otherwise  expresses  it,  in  thought  we  are  either 
in  contact  with  the  things  or  not  m  contact  with  them; 
there  is  no  third  possibility.  The  meaning  ef  Aristotln 
becomes  dearer  when  we  remember  that,  according  to  hia 


JM-E  XAT.  H  Y  S  I.C 


95 


\  !e-w,  the  intelligence,  in  apprehending  the  indivisible  unity 
af  elements  in  the  object,  is  at  the  same  time  apprehending 
the  unity  of  the  object  with  itself.  The  mind  cannot  be 
deceived  in  regard  to  that  which  forms  a  part  of  its  con- 
sciousness of  itself.  In  freeing  the  essential  conception  of 
the  object  from  the  contingency  of  matter,  science  has 
freed  the  object  from  that  which  made  it  foreign  to 
intelligence,  aad  thfe  relation  of  thought  to  things  ceases 
to  be  one  if  correspondence,  and  becomes  one  of  identity. 
:  The  legitimate  inference  from  this  view  of  the  relation 
of  the  intelligence  to  the  intelligible  wor-ld  would  seem 
to  be  that  the  partial  separation  of  thought  from  its  object 
and  its  imperfect  correspondence  with  it  is  characteristic 
of  our  first  empirical  consciousness  of  things,  and  of  the 
progress  from  that  consciousness  to  science,  but  that  in 
completed  science  the  division  ceases.  The  esse  of  things 
^  not  their  percipi  but  their  inteUvjx.  But,  if  this  be 
fe.kec  as  the  trutli,  then  u'cax  no  longer  be  sujiposed  that 
the  process  by  which  scientific  knowledge  is  attained  con- 
sists simply  in  an  anafysis  of  the  object  as  it  is  given  in 
immediate  perception.  On  the  contrary,  it  must  be  held 
that,  if  our  thought  has  to  submit  itself  to  the  object,  and 
to  be  brought  into  conformity  with  it,  by  a  process  of 
induction,  it  is  equally  true  that  in  thjs  process  the  object 
also  must  be  changed,  that  it  may  be  brought  into  con- 
formity with  the  princrjjle  of  thought.  The  genesis,  of 
ecience,  according  to  this  view,  is  not  merely  an  analysis 
of  given  facts,  but  a  process  of  vital  transformation  by 
irhich  consciousness  on  the  one  side  and  the  object  on 
the  other  are  brought  into  unity  with  each  other.  The 
idea,  indeed,  of  an  empty  process,  a  process  in  which  the 
activity  of  the  mind  is  merely  formal,  is  one  which  will 
cot  st^ind  the  slightest  examination.  A  mind  without 
categories,  if  auch  a  thing  were  conceivable,  would  have 
no  questions  to  ask  in  relation  to  the  object  presented  to 
it,  and  could  therefore  get  no  answers.  Those  who  make 
a  pretence  of  approaching  a  subject  in  an  absolutely 
receptive  attitude,  and  without  any  presuppositions,  only 
show  that  they  are  unconscious  of  the  categories  by 
which  their  thought  is  ruled ;  and  they  will  be  most 
slavishly  guided  by  these  categories  just  because  they 
aie  unconscious  of  them.  The  schoolmen,  when 
they  applied  their  logical  principles  to  the  matter  of 
Christian  dogma,  did  not  recognize  that  they  were  doing 
more  than  analysing  and  bringing  out  clearly  the  meaning 
of  that  dogma.  But  the  effect  of  their  work  was  to  turn 
the  system  of  divinity  into  a  collection  of  insoluble  puzzles; 
for  the  doctrine  was  a  doctrine  of  reconciliation  between 
divine  and  human,  infinite  and  finite,  universal  and 
particular,  and  the  principle  of  their  method  was  to  treat 
all  these  oppositions  as  absolute.  In  like  manner  it  might 
be  shown  that  the  analysis  of  social  phenomena  which  was 
made  in  the  last  century  was  inadequate  and  superficial, 
just  because  of  the  latent  assumption  of  individualism  on 
which  it  proceeded,  and  that  the  greater  success  of  writers 
like  Comte  and  Spencer  does  not  arise  merely  or  mainly 
from  their  being  more  careful  observers  of  the  phenomena 
of  social  life,  but  in  great  part  from  the  fact  that,  rather  by 
the  unconscious  movement  of  opinion  than  by  any  distinct 
metaphysic,  their  minds  have  become  possessed  bv  more 
adequate  categories. 

The  idea  that  the  process  of  thought  is  mereiy  formal, 
3r  analytic  of  given  matter,  is,  however,  an  error  that  has 
t  truth  underlying  it.  This  is  the  truth  expressed  by 
Aristotle  in  his  much  misunderstood  comparison  of  the 
itelligence  of  man  to  a  tabula  rasa,  upon  which  nothing 
t  first  is  wTitten,,and  again  in  his  assertion — already 
noted — that  the  mind  is  a  pure  Si.W//i9,  without  any 
listinguishing  quality  of  its  own  which  could  prevent  it 
•  #om  apprehending  the  real  liature  s>t  other  things.     In 


other  words,  self-conscious  reason  is  not  a  special  thing  in 
the  world,  but  the  principle  through  which  all  things  are, 
and  areninderstood  ;  and  hence,  as  regards  the  distinction  of 
things  from  each  other,  it  is  in  the  first  instance  undeter- 
mined and  indifferent,  and  therefore  open  to  be  determined 
in  one  way  or  another,  according  to  the  object  to  which  it 
is  directed.  But  this  simply  means  that  the  conscious 
subject,  as  siich,  is  not  bound  to  his  ovtn  individuality,  but 
can  regard  things,  nay,  in  a  sense,  must  regard  them,  from 
a  point  of  view  which  is  independent  of  it.  This  is  what 
makes  possible  the  self-restraint  and  self-abnegation  pre-, 
scribed  to  the  scientific  man,  whose  whole  duty,  as  it  is  often 
said,  is  to  keep  himself  out  of  the  way  and  let  the  objects 
speak,  to  lay  aside  all  subjective  idola  and  prejudices 
that  stand  between  him  and  the  reality  of  things.  This  at 
first  sight  may  seem  to  be  equivalent  to  the  assertion  that 
the  mind  ought  to  be  in  a  state  of  simple  passivity  or 
receptivity  towards  objects.  What  is  really  meant,  how-' 
.ever,  is  not  that  the  intelligence  should  go  out  of  itself,  or 
cease  to  be  itself,  that  it  may  know  its  object,  but  simply 
that  it  should  show  itself  in  its  universality,  or  freedom 
from  the  limits  of  the  individual  nature.  The  self-abnega- 
tion of  science  is  an  endeavour,  so  to  speak,  to  see  the 
object  with  its  own  eyes,  but  this  it  can  do  only  in  so  far 
as  the  consciousness  for  which  the  object  is  is  that  con-' 
sciousness  in  relation  to  which  alone  aU  objects  are,  and 
are  understood.  Or,  to  put  it  in  another  form,  the  con- 
scious self  in  its  scientific  self-abnegation  does  not  give 
itself  up  to  another,  and  become  purely  passive ;  it  only 
gives  up  all  activity  which  is  not  the  activity  of  that 
universal  thought  for  which  and  through  which  all  things 
are.  Hence,  when  it  has  so  abnegated  itself,  its  most  intense 
constructive  activity  is  just  beginning,  though,  just  so  far 
as  the  self-abnegation  has  been  real,  that  constructive 
activity  has  become  one  ■<f!\i)i  the  self-revelation  of  the 
object.  As,  however,  it  is  only  through  the  constructive 
activity  of  thought  that  there  exists  for  us  any  object  at 
all,  so  it  is  only  through  its  continued  activity  that  the 
conception  of  the  object  is  changed,  till  it  is  completely, 
revealed  and  known.  And  this  activity  involves  a  con- 
tinuous synthesis,  by  which"  an  ever  wider  range  of  facts 
is  brought  together  in  an  ever  more  definite  unity,  until 
the  mind  has,  if  we  may  use  the  expression,  exhausted  its 
store' of  categories  upon  the  world,  and  until  the  world  has 
completely  revealed  itself  in  its  unity  with  itself  and  with' 
the  mind.  , 

To  combine  these  two  ideas — on  the  one  hand  that  science 
begins  in  a  self-abnegation  by  which  the  mind  renounces 
all  subjective  prejudices,  and  thereby  attains  a  purely 
objective  attitude,  and  on  the  other  hand  that  this  purely 
objective  attitude  is  not  a  mere  attitude  of  reception,  birt 
one  in  which  the  mind  is  continually  transforming  the' 
object  by  its  own  categories, — to  see  that  the  universality 
of  the  mind  in  knowing  is  not  mere  emptiness,  and  that  its 
activity  is  synthetic  just  when  it  is  most  free  ftom  all  pre- 
suppositions extraneous  to  the  nature  of  its  object, — is  one 
of  the  greatest  difficulties  of  the  student  of  metaphysic' 
Universality  at  first  looks  so  like  emptiness,  and  a  universal 
activity  so  like  a  merely  formal  activity,  that  it  is  no 
wonder  that  the  one  should  be  mistaken  for  the  other.; 
But  if  we  make  such  a  confusion,  we  may  soon  be  forced 
to  choose  between  a  sensationalism  that  makes  knowledge 
impossible  and  a  mysticism  which  makes  it  empty.  The 
pure  identity  of  thought  with  itself  which  is  involved  in 
the  process  of  analysis  is  put  on  the  one  side,  aJid  the 
manifold  matter  of  experience  which  is  the  object  of 
thought  on  the  other,  and  between  these  opposites  no 
mediation  is  possible.  If  we  take  our  stand  upon  the 
latter,  we  are  forced  to  reject  all  mental  synthesis  as 
invalid,  because  it  involves  a  subjective   addition  to  ths 


96 


31  E  T  A  P  H  Y  S  I  C 


facts :  if  we  tal^e  cur  stand  on  tlio  former,  we  are  com- 
pelled to  rejard  all  nljjcctive  experience  as  iiTational. 
l)ei;au<s  it  doc?  not  correspond  to  thu  pure  identity  of 
ihouj-'ht. 

In  Aristotle's  view  of  logic  it  cannot  be  said  that  this 
•linRenlty  i^  clearly  solved,  though  he  seems  to  have  seen 
the-  error  of  Ijotli  extrenies.  On  the  one  hand  he  often 
recognizes  the  synthetic  character  of  the  process  of  induc- 
tion, as  when  lie  speaks  of  the  universal  idea  or  law  as  a 
central  principle,  in  which  we  must  find  the  key  to  all  tha 
<lilficulties  suggested  by  different  aspects  of  a  given  subject. 
Yet  in  other  places  we  trace  the  inlluence  of  a  merely  ana- 
lytic conception  of  that  process  as  a  process  in  which  the 
universal  is  to  be  reached  by  abstracting  from  the  peculi- 
arities of  individuals.  And  this  conception  of  it  is  favoured 
by  Aristotle's  mctajihysical  theory,  according  to  which  the 
forms  of  things  in  the  fiuile  world  are  manifested  in  a 
resisting  matter,  a  matter  which  prevents  them  from  being 
perfectly  or  universally  realized.  For,  in  so  far  as  this  is 
the  case,  tlie  facts  will  not  be  entirely  explained  by  the 
knowledge  of  the  form,  and  the  knowledge  of  the  form 
must  be  obtained,  not  by  combining  all  the  facts,  but  rather 
by  abstracting  from  them.  Again,  in  Aristotle's  account 
of  the  process  of  thought  in  the  Prior  Ana/i/tics,  he 
regards  it  as  a  formal  deductive  process ;  and,  though 
in  the  Poslerior  Anutijlics  he  attempts  to  give  a  .synthetic 
meaning  to  the  syllogism  by  treating  it  as  the  method  in 
which  tliG  properties  of  a  thing  may  be  proved  of  it,  or 
combined  with  it,  through  its  essential  definition,  yet  this 
adventitious  meaning  bestowed  upon  the  syllogistic  process 
does  not  alter  its  essential  nature.  The  ultimate  source  of 
this  inadequate  view  of  the  process  of  thought  seems  to  lie 
in  Aristotle's  imperfect  conception  of  the  unity  or  identity 
which  is  for  him  the  type  of  knowledge.  For,  though,  both 
in  the  Metaphysic  and  the  De  Anima,  he  defines  that  identity 
as  self-consciousness  or  as  a  consciousness  of  objects  which 
is  identical  with  self-consciousness,  yet  he  does  not  seem 
slearly  to  distinguish  between  a  unity  in  which  there  is  no 
difference  and  a  unity  in  wliich  difference  is  transcended  and 
reconciled.  This  seems  to  bo  shown  by  his  description  of  the 
principles  which  reason  apprehends  as  individua  or  indi- 
visible unities,  rather  than  unities  which  imply,  while  they 
transcend,  difference.  Yet,  in  this  definition  of  the  unity 
of  knowledge  as  self-consciousness,  Aristotle  has  implicitly 
admitted  that  there  is  a  duality  or  difference  in  the  unity 
itielf,  and  this  might  have  been  exi^ected  to  modify  his 
conception  of  the  relation  of  consciousness  to  its  objects. 
For,  as  self-consciousness  is  not  simple  like  a  chemical 
element,  but  only  in  tlie  sense  that  it  is  an  indissoluble 
unity  of  opposites,  it  might  have  been  anticipated  that 
one  who  had  realized  self-consciousness  as  the  principle 
of  knowledge  would  bo  able  to  regard  the  opposition 
between  the  consciousness  of  self  and  the  consciousness  of 
the  world  as  itself  also  capable  of  being  conceived  as  a 
unity. 

This  misconception  of  Aristotle  may  be  shown  in 
another  way.  In  the  Metaphysic  we  find  liim  lapng  down 
\vhat  is  called ,  the  logical  law  of  contradiction  as  the 
ultimate  principle  of  knowledge.  The  meaning  of  this 
principle,  however,  as  Ai'istotlo  states  it,  is  simply  that 
thought  in  its  essence  i.s  definition  or  distinction.  If,  as 
Heraclitus  say.s,  everything  at  once  is  arid  is  not,  if  wo 
cannot  attach  any  definite  predicates  to  things  by  which 
they  may  be  distinguished  from  each  other,  then,  as 
Aristotle  argues,  thought  is  chaos,  and  knowledge  is 
impossible.  If  determination  bo  not  negation,  if  the 
r.Kertion  of  A  bo  not  the  negation  of  not-A,  then  there  is 
no  meaning  in  words.  The  criticism  to  be  made  on  this 
view  is  obviously,  not  that  it  is  a  false  statement  of  the  law 
of  thought,  but  that  it  is  an  impsrfoct  statement  of  it. 


Thought  is  undoubtedly  distinction  ;  and,  if  all  distinction' 
bo  confounded,  no  meaning  can  be  apprehended  or  ex- 
pressed. But  thought  is  also  relation  and  connexion  of 
the  things  distinguished,  and  this  aspect  of  it  is  equally 
important  with  the  other.  Aristotle  shows  his  one-sided- 
ness — a  one-sidedness  which  throws  him  into  opposition 
to  Plato,  but  which  enables  him  to  correct  Plato  only  by 
falling  into  the  opposite  error — when  he  exclusively  fixes 
his  attention  on  the  "  differentiating  "  aspect  of  knowledge, 
and  takes  no  notice  of  the  "  integrating  "  aspect  of  it.  It 
is  easy  to  see  that  this  exclusive  attention  to  one  side  of 
the  truth  may  lead  in  many  ways  to  a  distorted  view  both 
of  the  world  and  of  the  intelligence  that  apprehends  it.  If 
Heraclitus  be  interpreted  as  simply  denying  the  right  of 
thought  to  introduce  its  definiteness  into  the  flux  of  sense, 
nothing  but  absolute  scepticism  can  come  out  of  hii 
philosophy  ;  and  Aristotle  was  right  in  maintaining  that  it  is 
only  as  the  flux  is  brought  to  a  stand,  and  the  universal  is 
fixed  as  a  permanent  and  definite  object  of  thought,'  that 
knowledge  becomes  possible.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  if 
distinction  be  taken  as  absolute,  if  the  definite  assertion 
of  a  thing  be  taken  as  a  negation  of  all  relation  to  what  it , 
is  not,  if  the  fixity  of  thought  be  taken  as  an  abstract  self- 
identity  which  excludes  all  the  movement  of  finite  things 
wherein  they  show  their  finitude  and  pass  beyond  them- 
selves into  other  things,  then  knowledge  will  be  equally 
impossible.  Our  consciousness,  on  such  a  theory,  would 
be  disintegrated  into  parts  which  would  o-rni  no  connexion 
with  each  other ;  nor  would  it  be  possible  for  us  to  think 
of  thing'!  as,  in  spite  of  their  difference.-,  bound  together  into 
the  unity  of  one  world.  The  law  of  contradiction  or 
distinction,  therefore,  is  likely-  to  lead  to  serious  miscon- 
ceptions, unless  it  be  complemented  by  a  law  of  relation — 
a  law  expressing  the  truth  that  there  is  a  unity  which 
transcends  all  distinction.  For  all  intelligible  distinction 
— all  distinction  of  things  in  the  intelligible  world — must 
be  subordinate  to  their  unity  as  belonging  to  that  world, 
and  therefore  essentially  connected  with  each  other  and 
with  the  intelligence.  In  such  a  world,  in  other  words, 
there  can  be  no  absolute  distinctions  or  differences  (not 
even  between  being  and  not-being);  for  distinction  without 
relation  is  impossible,  and  a  conception  held  in  absolute 
isolation  from  all  correlated  conceptions  ceases  to  have 
any  meaning.  This  does  not,  of  course,  imply  a  neg-ation 
of  the  law  of  contradiction  within  its  own  sphere,  but  it 
does  imply  that  that  sphere  is  limited,  and  that  there  is  no 
absolute  contradiction.  All  opposition  is  within  a  pre- 
supposed unity,  and  therefore  points  to  a  higher  reconcilia- 
tion, a  reconciliation  which  is  reached  when  we  show  that 
the  opposition  is  one  of  correlative  elements. 

The  great  step  in  logical  theory  which  was  taken  by  the 
idealistic  philosophy  of  the  post-Kantian  period  was  simply 
to  dissipate  the  confusion  which  had  prevailed  so  long 
between  that  bare  or  formal  identity,  which  is  but  the 
beginning  of  thought  and  knowledge,  and  that  concrete 
unity  of  difference,  which  is  its  highest  idea  and  end.  It 
was,  in  other  words,  to  correct  and  complete  the  concep- 
tions of  thought  as  analytical,  and  as  externally  syntheti- 
cal, by  the  conception  of  it  as  self-determining,  to  show 
that  it  is  a  unity  which  manifests  itself  in  difference  and 
opposition,  yet  in  all  this,  even  when  it  seems  to  be 
dealing  with  an  object  which  is  altogether  external  to 
it,  is  really  developing  and  revealing  itself.  This  new 
movement  of  thought  might,  in  one  point  of  view,  be 
described  as  the  addition  of  another  logic  to  the  logic 
of  analysis  and  the  logic  of  inductive  synthesis  which 
were  already  in  existence.  But  it  was  really  more  than 
this  ;  for  the  new  logic  was  not  merely  an  external  addition 


METAPHYSIC 


97 


to  the  old  logics,  it  also  put  a  new  meaning  into  these  | 
logics  by  bringing  to  light  the  principles  that  were  involved 
in  them.  At  the  same  time  it  broke  down  the  division 
that  had  been  supposed  to  exist  between  logic  and  meta- 
physic,  between  the  form  or  method  of  thought  and  its 
matter.  It  showed  that  thought  itself  contains  a  matter 
from  -which  it  canpot  be  separated,  and  that  it  is  only  by 
reason  of  this  matter  that  it  is  able  to  ask  intelligent 
questions  of  nature,  and  to  get  from  nature  intelligible 
answers.  A  short  space  must  be  devoted  to  explain  this 
relation  of  the  three  logics  to  each  other. 

The  anal)-tic  logic  fairly  represents  our  first  scientific 
attitude  to  the  world,  in  which  we  concentrate  our  attention 
upon  the  facts  as  they  are  given  in  experience,  with  no 
thought  of  any  mental  sjiithesis  through  which  they  are 
given.  To  ourselves  we  seem  to  have  to  do  with  an  object 
which  is  altogether  independent  of  our  thought,  and  what 
we  need  in  order  to  know  it  is  to  keep  ourselves  iu  a  purely 
receptive  attitude.  All  we  can  do  is  to  analyse  what  is 
given,  without  adding  anything  of  oui'  own  to  it.  It  has, 
however,  already  been  pointed  out  that  this  apparent  self- 
abnegation  is  possible  only  because,  in  abnegating  our  indi- 
•vidual  point  of  view,  we  do  not  abnegate  the  point  of  view 
that  belongs  to  us  as  universal  or  thinking  subjects.  In 
other  words,  the  objectivity  of  knowledge  thus  attained  is 
not  the  ceasing  of  the  activity  of  our  tliought,  but  rather  of 
all  that  interferes  with  that  activity.  We  seem  to  abstract 
'from  ourselves,  but  what  we  do  abstract  from  is  only  the 
individuality  that  stands  between  us  and  the  world.  The 
scientific  observer  who  has  thus  denied  himself,  however, 
is  not  necessarily  conscious  of  the  meaning  of  what  he  has 
done.  •  The  immediate  expression  of  his  consciousnes.«  is 
not  "I  think  the  object,"  but  "it,  the  object,  is";  and  the 
more  intensely  active  he  is  the  more  his  activity  is  lost  for 
him  in  the  object  of  it.  His  whole  work  is,  for  himself, 
only  the  analysis  of  given  facts,  and  for  the  rest  he  seems 
to  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  take  the  world  as  he  finds 
it.  The  voice  of  nature  to  which  he  listens  is  for  him 
aot  Ills  own  voice  but  the  voice  of  a  stranger,  and  it  does 
not  occur  to  him  to  reflect  that  nature  could  not  speak  to 
any  one  but  a  conscious  self.  His  business  is  to  determine 
things  as  they  present  themselves,  to  enumerate  their 
qualities,  to  measure  their  quantities ;  and  his  logic  accord- 
ingly is  a  logic  governed  by  the  idea  of  the  relative  com- 
prehension and  extension  of  the  things  which  he  thus 
names  and  classifies.  Such  an  analytic  logic  seems  to  be 
all  that  is  necessary,  because  the  only  predicates  by  which 
things  are  as  yet  determined  are  those  which  are  involved 
in  their  presence  to  us  in  perception,  and  as  perceived,  they 
seem  to  be  at  once  given  in  sjl  their  reality  to  the  mind 
that  apprehends  them.  . 

A  step  is  taken  beyond  this  first  naive  consciousness  of 
things,  whenever  a  distinction  is  made  between  appearance 
and  reality,  or  whenever  it  is  seen  that  the  things  perceived 
ore  essentially  related  to  each  other,  and  that  therefore  they 
cannot  be  known  by  their  immediate  presence  to  sense,  but 
only  by  a  mind  which  relates  that  which  Ls,  to  that  whii  i 
is  not,  immediately  perceived.  If  "  the  shows  of  things  are 
least  th  ;mselves,"  we  must  go  beyond  the  shows  in  order  to 
know  them ;  we  must  seek  out  the  permanent  for  that 
which  is  given  as  transient,  the  law  for  the  phenomenon, 
the  cause  for  the  effect.  The  process  of  thought  in  know- 
ledge therefore  is  iio  longer  lost  in  its  immediate  object, 
but  is,  partly  at  least,  distinguished  from  it.  For  just  in 
proportion  as  the  reality  is  separated  from  the  appearance 
doss  the  knower  become  conscious  of  an  activity  of  his  own 
thought  in  determining  things.  From  this  point  of  view 
nature  is  no  longer  an  object  which  spontaneously  reypals 
itself  to  us,  but  rather  one  which  hides  its  meaning  from 
03,  and  out  of  which  we  must  WTing  its  secret  by  persistent 


questioning.  And,  as  this  questioning  process  obviously 
has  not  its  direction  determined  purely  by  the  object  itself, 
it  becoiues  manifest  that  the  mind  must  bring  with  it  Ihc 
categories  by  which  it  seeks  to  make  uatui-e  intelligible. 
To  ask  for  the  causes  of  things,  or  the  laws  of  things,  pre- 
supposes that  the  immediate  appearance  of  them  does  not 
correspond  to  an  idea  of  reality  which  the  mind  bring.s 
with  it,  and  by  which  it  judges  the  appearance.  Nature 
is  supposed  to  be  given  to  or  perceived  by  us  as  a  multi- 
tude of  objects  in  space  pasiing  through  successive  changes 
in  time ;  and  what  science  seeks  is  to  discover  a  necessity 
of  connexion  running  through  all  this  apparently  contingent 
coexistence  and  succession  and  binding  it  into  a  system. 
Science,  therefore,  seems  to  question  nature  by  means  of 
an  idea  of  the  necessary  interdependence  and  conue.xiou  of 
all  thing.5,  as  parts  of  one  systematic  whole  governed  by 
general  laws — an  idea  which  it  does  not  get  froni  nature, 
but  which  it  brings  to  nature.  Hence  the  logic  in  which 
this  process  of  investigation  expresses  its  consciousness  of 
itself  will  be  a  synthetic  logic,  a  logic  built  on  certain  prin- 
ciples which  are  conceived  to  be  independent  of  experience, 
and  by  the  aid  of  which  we  may  so  transform  that  experi- 
ence, so  penetrate  into  it  or  get  beyond  it,  as  to  find  for  it 
a  better  explanation  than  that  which  it  immedL-.tely  gives  of 
itself.  The  Posterior  Analytic,  in  which  Aristotle  brings  in 
the  idea  of  cause  to  vivify  the  syllogistic  process,  or  supply  a 
real  meaning  to  it,  may  already  be  regarded  as  a  first  essay 
in  this  direction.  And  the  theory  of  inductive  logic,  as 
explained  by  Bacon  and  his  successors  down  to  Mill,  is  a 
continuous  attempt  to  determine  what  are  the  principles  and 
methods  on  which  experience  must  be  questioned,  in  order 
to  extract  from  it  a  knowledge  which  is  not  given  in  im- 
mediate perception. 

It  was,  however,  Hume  who  first  brought  into  a  clear 
light  the  subjectivity  of  the  principles  postulated  in  this 
logic,  and  especially  of  the  principle  of  causality,  which  is 
the  most  important  of  them.  In  thus  contrasting  the  sub- 
jectivity of  the  principles  of  science  with  the  objectivity 
of  the  facts  to  which  they  are  applied,  it  was  his  intention 
to  cast  doubt  on  the  science  which  is  based  on  the  applica- 
tion of  the  former  to  the  latter.  The  principles,  he  main- 
tains, are  not  legitimately  derived  from  the  facts,  therefore 
they  cannot  legitimately  be  usad  to  interpret  them.  They 
are  due  to  the  influence  of  habit,  which  by  an  illegitimate 
process  raises  frequency  of  occurrence  into  the  universality 
and  necessity  of  law,  and  so  changes  a  mere  subjective 
association  of  ideas  into  an  assured  belief  and  exjjectation 
of  objective  facts.  The  answer  given  by  Kant  to  this 
sceptical  criticism  of  science  involved  a  rejection  of  that 
very  opposition  of  subjective  and  objective  upon  "which  it 
was  based.  Without  necessary  and  universal  principles, 
the  experience  of  things  as  qualitatively  and  quantitatively 
determined  objects,  coexisting  in  space  and  passing 
through  changes  in  time  (or  even  the  determination  of  the 
successive  states  of  the  subject  as  successive),  would  itself 
have  been  impossible.  Hence  necessity  of  thought  cannot 
be  derived  from  a  frequent  e.xperience  of  such  objects.  It 
is  true  tLat  the  determination  of  things  as  permanent  sub- 
stances reciprocally  acting  on  each  other,  according  to  uni- 
versal lawrs,  goes  beyond  the  determination  of  them  as 
qualified  and  quantified  phenomena  in  space  and  time. 
But  both  determinations  are  possible  only  through  the 
same  a  priori  principle,  and  we  cannot  admit  the  former 
determination  without  implicitly  admitting  the  latter.  As, 
therefore,  it  is  through  the  necessity  and  universality  of 
thought  that  objects  exist  for  us,  even  before  the  application 
to  them  of  the  principles  of  scientific  induction,  and  as  the 
application  of  those  principles  is  only  a  further  step  in 
that  a  priori  synthesis  which  is  abready  involved  in  the 
perception  of  these  objects,  we  have  no  reason  for  treating 


198 


.M  E  T  A  P  H  Y  S  I  C 


the  former  kind  of  synthesis  as  ohj actively  valid  which 
does  not  equally  apply  to  the  latter. 

This  vindication  of  the  principles  of  indiiction  has,  how- 
ever, a  further  consequence,  which  was  not  clearly  seen  by 
Kant.  It  is  fatal  to  the  antithesis  of  the  "  given  "  and 
the  ''  known,"  of  what  is  perceived  and  what  is  conceived, 
of  natura  mo.terialiler  spectata  and  nattera  formalUer 
apeclata,  which  he  still  admitted.  For  that  antithesis 
really  rested  on  the  idea  that  there  is  no  universal  and 
necessary  principle  of  determination  of  things  involved  in 
the  apprehension  of  them  as  qualified  and  quantified 
phenomena  in  space  and  time.  So  soon,  therefore,  as  it  is 
seen  that  there  is  such  a  principle,  and  that  the  fii-st  deter- 
mination if  things  as  objects  of  perception  is  due  to  the 
same  a  priori  synthesis  which  determines  them  m  the 
second  place  as  objects  of  experience,  the  ground  for  that 
contrast  between  reality  and  appearance  on  which  the 
theory  of  induction  rested  is  taken  away.  Kant,  indeed, 
finds  a  new  meaning  for  that  contrast  by  interpreting  it  as 
referring,  not  to  the  opposition  between  things  as  they  are 
given  and  things  as  they  are  known,  but  to  a  supposed 
opposition  between  things  as  they  are  given  and  known  in 
experience  and  things  as  they  are  in  themselves  out  of 
experience.  This  new  antithesis  of  reality  and  appearance, 
however,  only  means  that  the  former  antithesis  has  broken 
down,  and  that  therefore  the  ideal  of  knowledge  based 
upon  it  has  yielded  to  a  new  ideal.  The  so-called  things 
in  themselves  are  noumena,  the  objects  of  an  intuitive  or 
perceptive  understanding,  i.e.,  objects  in  which  the  contrast 
of  perception  and  conception,  of  given  and  known,  is  tran- 
scended. We  can  make  Kant's  theory  consistent  only  by 
supposing  him  to  mean  that  the  conception  of  the  world  as 
a  system  of  substances  determining  each  other  according 
to  universal  laws  does  .not  yet  satisfy  the  idea  of  know- 
ledge which  reason  brings  with  it.  In  other  words,  just 
as  science  from  the  point  of  view  of  necessary  law  found 
something  wanting  in  the  conception  of  the  world  as  a 
mere  complex  of  quantified  and  qualified  phenomena  in 
space  and  time,  so  philosophy,  in  view  of  a  still  higher  ideal 
of  knowledge,  may  condemn  the  conception  of  the  world 
as  a  system  of  objects  determined  by  necessary  laws  of 
relation  as  itself  inadequate  and  imperfect.  And  we  have 
seen  that  this  higher  ideal  is  that  which  is  involved  in 
the  unity  of  self-consciousness.  Unfortunately  Kant  was 
unable,  as  Aristotle  had  been  unable,  to  distinguish  this 
idea  from  the  idea  of  an  abstract  identity  in.  which  there 
is  no  room  for  even  a  relative  difference  of  perception  and 
conception,  and  therefore  the  perceptive  understanding  was 
named  by  him  only  to  be  rejected. 

If,  however,  wo  correct  this  inadequacy  of  Kant's  state- 
ment, as  his  later  works  enable  us  partly  to  correct  it, 
we  see  that  it  involves  a  new  idea  of  knowledge  and  a  new 
logic, — a  logic  governed  by  the  idea  of  organic  unity  and 
development,  just  as  the  analytic  logic  h.ad  been  governed 
by  the  idea  of  identity,  and  as  the  inductive  bgic  had  been 
governed  by  the  idea  of  necessary  law.  For,  if  the  unity 
of  self-consciousness  be  our  type  of  knowledge,  truth  must 
mean  to  us,  not  the  apprehension  of  objects  as  seLf-identieal 
tilings,  distinguished  from  each  other  in  quantity  and 
quality,  nor  even  the  determination  of  such  things  as 
standing  in  necessary  relations  to  each  other.  It  must 
mean  the  determination  of  the  world  (and  of  whatever  in 
it  is  in  any  sense  an  independent  reality,  so  far  as  it  is  so 
lindependent)  as  a  unity  which  realizes  itself  in  and  through 
difference,  a  unity  which  is  indeed  determined,  but  deter- 
mined by  itself.  In  a  view  of  the  world  which  is  governed 
by  tliis  category,  correlation  must  be  reinter{>reted  as 
organic  unity,  and  causation  as  development.  Its  logical 
method  must  be  neither  analytical  nor  sjmthetical,  or 
irather  it  must  be  both  at  once,  i.e.,  it  must  endeavour  to 


exhibit  the  process  of  things  as  the  evolution  of  a  nnity 
which  is  at  once  self-differentiating  and  self-integrating; 
which  manifests  itself  in  difference,  that  through  difference 
it  may  return  upon  itself.  Further,  as  this  logic  arises 
simply  out  of  a  deeper  consciousness  of  that  which  was 
contained  in  the  two  previous  logics,  so  it  first  enables  us 
to  explain  them.  In  other  words,  the  ad\-ance  from  the 
analytic  to  the  inductive  logic,  and  again  from  the  inductive 
to  what  may  be  called  the  genetic  logic,  may  itself  be 
shown  to  be  a  self-determined  development  of  thought,  in 
which  the  first  two  steps  are  the  imperfect  manifcs^tion 
of  a  principle  fully  revealed  only  in  the  last  step.  The 
consciousness  of  self-identical  objects,  independent  of  each 
other  and  of  thought,  is  thus  only  the  beginning  of  a  pro-' 
cess  of  knowledge  which  reaches  its  second  stage  in  the 
determination  of  these  objects  as  essentially  related  to  each 
other,  and  which  finds  its  ultimate  end  in  the  knowledge 
of  the  correlated  objects  as  essentially  related  to  the  mind 
that  knows  them.  Or  if,  in  this  last  point  of  view,  things 
are  still  conceived  as  having  a  certain  relative  independence 
of  the  mind,  it  can  only  be  in  .so  far  as  they  are  in  the 
Leibnitzian  sense  monads,  or  microcosms, — i.e.,  in  so  far  as 
they  are  self-determined,  and  so  have,  in  the  narrower  circle 
of  their  individual  life,  something  analogous  to  the  self- 
completed  nature  of  the  world,  when  it  is  contemplated  in 
its  unity  with  its  spiritual  principle. 

Such  a  genetic  logic  is  inconsistent  with  any  absoluto 
distinction  between  i\iQ  a  priori  and  a  posteriori  element 
in  knowledge.  For  here  the  a  pjriori  is  not  simply  a  law 
of  neces.?ary  connexion  to  be  applied  to  an  external  matter, 
but  a  principle  of  organic  development,  a  principle  which,' 
from  the  very  nature  of  it,  cannot  be  appUcd  to  a  foreign 
matter.  To  treat  the  world  as  organic  is  to  apply  to  it  a 
category  which  is  inconsistent  with  its  being  something 
merely  given  or  externally  presented  to  thought.  The^ 
relation  of  things  to  thought  must  it.?eLf  be  brought  under, 
the  same  category  of  organic  unity  which  is  apphed  to  the.' 
relation  of  things  to  each  other  in  the  world,  otherwise  the' 
externality  of  the  world  to  the  thought  for  which  it  is  will 
contradict  the  conception  of  the  world  as  itself  organic. 
Hence  the  distinction  of  a  jiriori  and  a  posteriori,  so  far  as' 
it  is  maintained  at  all,  must  shrink  to  something  secondary^ 
and  relative.  It  can  be  .maintained  only  as  a  distinction 
of  thought  from  its  object,  which  presupposes  their  ultimate 
unity.  From  this  point  of  view  logic  may  be  said  to  deal 
with  the  a  priori,  in  so  far  as  it  treats  the  general  conditions 
and  methods  of  knowledge  without  reference  to  any  parti- 
cular object.  Logic  must  e.xhibit  abstractly  the  process  by 
which  the  intelligence  establishes  its  unily  with  the  intelli- 
gible world;  or,  to  jjut  it  in  another  way,  it  must  demon- 
strate tjjattlie  being  of 'things  can  be  truly  conceived  only 
as  their  being  for  thought.  It  is  limited  to  the  a  priori,  in 
the  sense  that  it  ends  with  tlie  idea  that  the  esse  of  things 
is  their  intdUgi,  and  does  not  consider  how  this  real 
intelligence  or  intelligible  reality  manifests  itself  in  the 
concrete  world  of  nature  and  spirit. 

In  this  sense  logic  cannot  be  .separated  from  metaphysic 
if  metaphysic  be  confined  to  ontology.  They  are  simply 
two  aspects  of  one  science,  which  we  may  regard  either  as 
determining  the  idea  of  being  or  the  idea  of  knowing. 
The  process  of  knowing  is  never  really  a  forma!  process;  it' 
always  involves  the  application  of  certain  ccfnjorif.'i,  and' 
these  categories  are  simply  successive  definitions  of  being 
or  reality.  We  cannot  separate  the  category  from  the 
movement  of  thought  by  which  it  is  evolved  and  applied, 
nor  the  transition  from  lower  to  higher  categories  from 
changes  of  logical  method.  Heace  a  logic  divorced  from 
metaphysic  inevitably  becomes  empty  and  unreal,  and  a 
metaphysic  divorced' from  logic  reduces  itself  to  a  kind  of 
dictionary  of  abstract  terms,  which  are  ^ut  in  no  living 


METAPHYSIC 


90 


relation  to  each  other.  For  such  a  logic  and  such  a  meta- 
physic  must  rest  on  the  assumption  of  an  absolute  division 
between  being  and  thought,  the  very  two  terms  the  unity 
of  which  it  must  be  the  utmost  object  of  both  logic  and 
metaphysic  to  prove  and  to  produce. 

4.  The  Rdalion  of  Mdaphysic  to  Philosophy  of  Eeli'jlon. 
— The  possibility  of  a  "first  philosophy,"  as  we  have 
already  seen,  is  essentially  bound  up  with  the  possibility 
of  what  we  may  call  a  last  philosophy.  It  is  only  in  so 
far  as  we  can  rise  above  the  point  of  view  of  the  individual 
bud  the  dualism  of  the  ordinary  consciousness — in  so  far, 
in  other  words,  as  we  can  have  at  least  an  anticipative 
consciousaess  of  that  last  unity  in  which  all  the  differences 
of  things  from  each  other  and  from  the  mind  that  knows 
them  are  explained  and  transcended — that  we  are  able  to 
go  back  to  that  first  unity  which  all  these  differences  pre- 
suppose. The  life  of  man  begins  with  a  divided  conscious- 
ness, with  a  consciousness  of  self  which  is  opposed  to  the 
consciousness  of  what  is  not-self,  with  a  consciousness  of  a 
multiplicity  of  particulars  which  do  not  seem  to  be  bound 
together  by  any  one  universal  principle.  Such  division 
and  apparent  independence  of  what  are  really  parts  of  one 
whole  is  characteristic  of  nature,  and  in  spirit  it  is  at  first 
only  so  far  transcended  that  it  has  become  conscious  of 
itself.  A  conscious  difference,  however,  as  it  is  a  difference 
in  consciousness,  is  no  longer  an  unmediated  difference. 
It  is  a  difference  through  which  the  unity  has  begun  to 
show  itself,  and  which  therefore  the  unity  is  on  the  way  to 
subordinate.  And  all  the  development  of  consciousness 
and  self-consciousness  is  just  the  process  through  which 
this  subordination  is  carried  out,  up  to  the  point  at  which 
the  difference  is  seen  to  be  nothing  but  the  manifestation 
of  the  unity.  Just  so  far,  therefore,  as  this  end  is  present 
to  us, — so  far  as  we  are  able  to  look  forward  to  the  solution 
or  reconciliation  of  all  the  divisions  and  oppositions  of 
which  we  are  conscious  and  to  see  that  there  is  an  all- 
embracing  unity  which  they  cannot  destroy, — is  it  possible 
that  we  should  look  back  to  the  beginning  or  first  unity, 
and  recognize  that  these  divisions  and  oppositions  are  but 
the  manifestations  of  it.  Thus  the  extremes  of  abstractness 
and  of  concreteness  of  thought  are  bound  up  together.  The 
freedom  of  intelligence  by  which  we  get  rid  of  the  complexity 
of  our  actual  life,  and  direct  our  thoughts  to  the  simplest 
and  most  elementary  conditions  of  being  and  knowing,  is 
possible  only  to  those  who  are  not  limited  to  that  life,  but 
can  regard  it  and  all  its  finite  concerns  from  the  point  of 
view  of  the  infinite  and  the  universal.  In  this  sense  it  is 
true  that  religion  and  metaphysic  spring  from  the  same 
source,  and  that  it  is  possible  to  vindicate  the  rationality  of 
religion  only  on  metaphysical  principles.  The  philosophy 
of  religion  is,  in  fact,  only  the  last  application  or  final 
expression  of  metaphysic;  and,  conversely,  a  metaphysic 
which  is  not  capable  of  furnishing  an  explanation  of  religion 
contradicts  itself. 

This  last  remark  arfords  us  a  kind  of  criterion  of  a  true 
metaphysic.  Can  it  or  can  it  not  explain  religion?  If  it 
cannot,  it  must  be  eqxially  unable  to  explain  its  own  possi- 
bility, and  therefore  implicitly  it  condemns  itself.  Thus  a 
pantheistic  system,  which  loses  the  subject  in  the  absolute 
substance,  cannot  explain  how  that  subject  should  appre- 
hend the  substance  of  which  it  is  but  a  transitory  mode,  nor, 
on  the  other  hand,  can  it  explain  why  the  substance  should 
manifest  itself  in  and  to  a  subject.  And  the  same  criticism 
maybe  madeonalltheoriesin  which  thefirst  or  metaphysical 
unity  is  abstractly  opposed  to  the  manifoldness  and  con- 
tingency of  things.  Not  only  of  Spinoza,  but  also  of  Kant, 
of  Fichte,  and  even  of  Schelling,  it  might  with  some  truth 
be  said  that  their  absolute  is  like  the  lion's  den,  towards 
»  which  all  the  tracks  are  directed,  while  none  come  from  it. 
It.  is  essential  that  the  first  unity  should  be  such  as  to 


explain  the  possibility  of  difference  and  division,  for,  if  it 
is  not,  th^n  the  return  to  unity  out  of  difference  is  made  as 
accidental  as  the  difference  itself.  A^■hen  Aristotle  repre-, 
sentcd  the  Divine  Being  as  pure  self-consciousness,  pure! 
form  without  matter,  he  found  himself  unable  to  account 
for  the  existence  of  any  world  in  which  form  was  realized 
in  matter.  AMien  tierefore  he  speaks  of  the  process  of 
the  finite  world  by  which  it  returns  to  God,  and  attributes 
to  nature  a  will,  which  is  directed  to  the  good  as  its  final 
cause,  his  theory  seems  to  be  little  more  than  a  metaphor 
in  which  the  analogy  of  consciousness  is  applied  to  the 
unconscious.  For,  if  the  Divine  Being  is  not  ma"nifested 
in  the  world,  any  tendency  of  the  world  to  realize  the  good 
becomes  an  inexplicable  fact.  A  similar  difficulty  is,  as 
we  saw,  involved  in  Kant's  confusion  of  the  bare  identity 
of  understanding  with  the  absolute  unity  of  knowledge. 
Reducing  the  unity  of  self-consciousness  to  such  a  bare 
identity,  Kant  could  not  be  expected  to  see,  what  Aristotle 
had  not  seen,  that  pure  self-consciousness  is  essentially 
related  to  anythiag  but  itself.  Hence  the  various  attempts 
which  he  made  in  his  ethical  works  and  in  his  Criticism  of 
Judgment  fo'fijida  link  of  connexion  between  the  noumenal 
and  the  empirical  were  necessarily  condemned  even  by  him-l 
self  as  the  expressions  of  a  merely  regulative  and  subjective' 
principle  of  knowledge.  Even  Fichte,  who  found  in  the! 
thought,  which  is  for  him  the  prins  of  aU  existence,  a 
principle  of  differentiation  and  integration  which  explained 
how  self -consciousness  in  us  should  be  necessarily  correlative' 
with  the  consciousness  of  a  world,  was  unable  to  free  him- 
self from  the  Kantian  opposition  of  a  noumenal  identity 
in  which  there  is  no  difference  to  a  phenomenal  unity 
which  is  realized  in  difference.  Hence  by  him  also  the 
return  out  of  difference  is  regarded  as  an  impossibOity,  oi- 
as  a  processus  in  infinitum,  and  the  absolute  unity  as  that 
which  is  beyond  all  knowledge  and  otdy  apprehended  by 
faith. 

If  we  look  to  completely  elaborated  theories,  and  dis- 
regard all  tentative  and  imperfect  sketches,  it  may  fairly^ 
be  said  that  all  that  has  as  yet  been  done  in  the  region  of 
pure  metaphysic  is  contained  in  two  works,  in  the  Meta- 
physic of  Aristotle  and  the  Lo^ic  of  Hegel.  And  up  to  a 
certain  point  the  lesson  which  they  teach  is  one  and  the 
same,  viz.,  that  the  'oltimate  unity  which  is  presupposed 
in  all  differences  is  the  unity  of  thought  with  itself,  the 
unity  of  self-consciousness,  and  that  in  this  unity  is  con- 
tained the  type  of  all  science,  and  the  form  of  all  existence  ; 
in  other  words,  I  =  I  is  the  formula  of  the  universe.  The 
difference  between  these  two  works  has,  however,  already 
been  indicated.  With  Aristotle,  because  he  neglects  the 
essential  relation  of  self-consciousness  to  consciousness,  vr 
of  the  conscious  self  to  the  world  of  objects  in  space  and 
time,  the  unity  of  self-consciousness  tends  to  pass,  as  it  did 
pass  with  the  Neo-Platonists,  into  a  pure  identity  without 
diff'erence.  In  the  Hegelian  logic,  on  the  other  hand,  self- 
consciousness  is  interpreted  as  a  unity  which  realizes  itself 
through  difference  and  the  reconciliation  of  difference — as, 
in  fact,  an  organic  unity  of  elements,  which  exist  only  as 
they  pass  into  each  other.  In  other  words,  it  is  shown 
that  the  differentiating  movement  by  which  the  subjective 
and  the  objective  self  are  opposed  and  the  integrating 
movement  by  which  they  are  retinited  are  both  essentiaLj 
Hence  we  cannot  think  of  the  conscious  self  as  a  simple^ 
resting  identify,  but  only  as  an  active  self-determining 
principle ;  nor  can  we  think  of  its  self-determination  as  a 
pure  affirmation  of  itself,  without  any  negation,  but  only 
as  an  affirmation  which  involves  a  double  negation — <in 
opposition  of  two  elements  which  yet  are  essentially  united. 
Each  factor  in  this  unity,  in  fact,  is  necessarily  conceiv.il 
as  passing  beyond  itself  into  the  other;  the  subject  i 
subject  OAly  as  it  relates  itself  to  the  object,  the  objegLia 


loa 


:aXETAPHYSIC 


object  only  as  it  relates  itaelf  to  the  subject.  It  is  this 
tension  against  each  other  of  elements  which  yet  are  corre- 
kted  and  indissolubly  united,  this  self-surrender  to  each 
other  of  elements  which  yet  are  maintained  in  their  distinc- 
tion, which  constitutes  the  organic  unity  of  thought  in 
itself,  and  separates  it  from  the  mere  abstract  unity  of 
mysticism.  A\Tien,  however,  the  concrete  or  self-differen- 
tiating character  of  the  unity  of  self-consciousness  is  appre- 
hended in  this  way, — so  that  it  is  imijossible  to  confuse  its 
indivisible  unity  with  the  simplicity  of  that  which  is  one 
rrierely  because  it  has  no  differences  in  it, — the  problem  of 
the  relation  of  pure  self-consciousness  to  the  world  in  space 
and  time  ceases  to  be  insoluble.  Thought,  as  it  is  seen  io 
have  difference  in  itself,  is  no  longer  irreconcilable  with 
t!\e  world  of  difference ;  nor  is  it  necessary  to  introduce  a 
foreign  v\rj  to  make  their  connexion  intelligible.  For,  as 
thought  is  a  principle  of  difference  as  well  as  of  unity,  of 
analysis  as  well  as  of  synthesis,  and  as  it  cannot  realize 
itself  in  its  unity  except  through  the  utm.ost  development 
of  difference,  abstract  self-consciousness,  with  its  transparent 
or  merely  ideal  difference,  cannot  be  its  ultimate  form. 
On  the  contrary,  the  consciousness  of  self  is  possible  oii'y 
in  distinction  from,  and  in  relation  to,  a  world  of  objects. 
In  other  words,  the  unity  of  the  thinking  subject  pre- 
supposes, not  merely  the  opposition  of  the  subjective  and 
the  objective  self,  but  also  the  opposition  of  the  self  in  its 
pure  self-identity  to  a  world  of  externality  and  difference. 
The  pure  intelligence,  which  is  the  pruis  of  all  things,  must 
not,  therefore,  be  regarded — as  Aristotle  regarded  it — as 
merely  theoretical,  but  also  as  practical.  It  must  be  con- 
ceived as  a  living  principle,  a  principle  which  only  in  self- 
manifestation  can  be  conscious  of  itself,  and  to  the  very 
nature  of  which,  therefore,  self-manifestation  is  .essential. 
In  this  way  Hegel — just  because  ho  grasped  the  concrete 
character  of  the  unity  of  thought  in  itself — was  enabled  to 
understand  the  necessary  unity  of  thought  or  self-conscious- 
ness with  the  world,  and  to  heal  the  division  of  physics 
from  metaphysic,  which  Aristotle  had  admitted. 

Sohelling  and  others  who  have  raised  objections  to  the 
Hegelian  method  have  specially  directed  their  criticisms 
against  this  transition  from  logic  to  the  philosophy  of 
nature,  from  pure  self-consciousness  to  the  external  world 
in  space  and  time.  In  doing  so,  they  have  practically 
fallen  back  upon  the  Aristotelian  theory,  with  its  opposition 
of  God,  as  pure  form,  to  the  finite  world.  But  this  in  effect 
is  to  deny  that  "  the  real  is  the  rational "  or  intelligible, 
and  to  introduce  into  the  world,  as  the  ground  of  its 
distinction  from  reason,  a  purely  irrational  or  contingent 
element.  A  modern  follower  of  Schelling's  later  positive 
])liilosophy  only  draws  the  necessary  consequence  from  this 
view  when  he  teaches  the  pessimist  creed  that  the  highest 
good  is  the  negation  or  extinction  of  the  finite.  Nor  can 
we  wonder  that  the  same  writer  who  denies  that  the 
absolute  self-consciousness  is  essentially  related  to  or 
manifested  in  the  world  should  proceed  to  reduce  this 
self-consciousness  to  a  mystic  identity  which  comes  out  of 
itself  and  becomes  self-conscious  only  by  an  inscrutable 
act  of  will.  The  fact,  indeed,  that  those  who  deny  the 
possibility  of  a  rational  transition  from  self- consciousness 
to  the  world  are  forced  by  the  logic  of  their  position  to 
reduce  self-consciousness  to  an  abstract  identity  may  be 
regarded  as  a  kind  of  indirect  proof  that  the  principle  of 
self-consciousness,  truly  conceived,  does  involve  that  transi- 
tion. Another  step  in  the  same  direction  may  be  made  if 
we  consider  how  the  Cartesian  philosophy  treated  the  same 
opposition,  which  it  also  regarded  as  absolute.  By 
Uescartes  mind  and  matter,  thought  and  extension,  are 
defined  as  abstract  oppositos,  every  quality  of  each  finding 
its  contradictory  counterpart  in  a  quality  of  the  other. 
Miad  is  a  pure  self-determined  unity,  which  is  as  it  knows 


itself  and  knows  itself  as  it  is,  which  has  no  discretionoi 
parts  or  capacity  of  division  or  determination  from  « ithoui 
Matter  is  essentially  discrete  or  infinitely  divided ;  it  is  » 
pure  passivity ;  and  all  its  determination  comes  to  it  from 
without.  The  world  is  therefore,  as  it  were,  "cut  in  tw« 
with  a  hatchet,"  divided  into  two  unrelated  existences, 
which  are  held  together  only  by  the  will  of  God.  Spinoza 
cuts  the  knot,  and  avoids  the  arbitrariness  of  this  solution, 
by  treating'  extension  and  thought  as  two  attributes 
separated  only  in  respect  of  our  intelligence,  but  each 
expressing  fully  the  absolute  substance.  And  something 
like  the  same  view  has  been  revived  in  recent  times,  by 
writers  like  Lewes  and  ilr  Spencer,  who  speak  of  feelings 
and  motions  as  two  opposite  "  aspects "  of  the  same  fact. 
AVhen  we  ask,  however,  for  whom  these  attributes  or 
aspects  are  a  unity,  it  becomes  clear  that  the  intelligencB 
which  is  regarded  as  standing  on  one  side  of  the  dualism 
must  also  be  taken  as  transcending  it,  and  relating  the  two 
sides  to  each  other.  Moreover,  the  correspondence  of  ths 
two  attributes  upon  which  Spinoza  insists  and  their  contra- 
riety upon  which  Descartes  insists,  when  taken  together, 
give  us  the  idea  of  a  correlative  opposition,  i.e.,  of  an  opposi- 
tion of  elements  which  yet  are  necessary  to  each  other. 
If,  therefore,  they  cannot  be  simply  identified  as  Spinoza 
identifies  them,  yet  they  need  no  external  bond  such  as 
Descartes  introduces  to  combine  them ;  for  they  cannot 
exist  apart  from  each  other.  Their  opposition  is  held 
within  the  limits  of  their  unity,  and  is  no  absolute  con- 
tradiction, but  rather  an  opposition  which  exists  only  as  it 
is  transcended.  In  other  words,  it  is  an  abstract  opposi- 
tion, i.e.,  it  is  an  opposition  of  elements  which  seem  to  be 
irreconcilable  till  it  is  observed  that  they  are  correlative, 
that  each  exists  or  has  a  meaning  only  as  it  relates  itself 
to,  or  passes  out  of  itself  into,  the  other,  and  that  each, 
held  in  its  abstraction  and  separation  from  the  other,  loses 
all  the  meaning  that  it  seemed  to  have.  For,  as  in  an 
orj-.mic  body  each  member  or  orga.n  lives  only  in  tension 
against  the  othens,  yet  only  as  continually  relating  itself  to 
the  others,  so  the  utmost  opposition  of  mind  to  matter,  of 
the  intelligence  to  the  intelligible  world,  presupposes  their 
unity,  and  is  only  the  realization  of  i 

There  is  here,  however,  something  more  than  an  ordinary 
case  of  correlation,  for  in  this  unity  of  opposites  mind 
appears  t^vice,  once  as  one  of  the  opposites,  and  again 
as  the  unity  which  transcends  the  opposition.  This 
ambiguity  becomes  most  obvious  in  theories  like  that  of  Mr 
Spencer,  who  speaks  of  "  two  consciousnesses,"  which  cannot 
be  resolved  into  each  other,  but  yet  which  strangely  form 
inseparable  parts  of  one  and  the  same  consciousness.  What, 
however,  is  really  involved  in  such  a  statement  is  that  the 
external  world,  which  in  the  £rat  instance  presents  itself 
as  absolutely  opposed  in  nature  to  the  subject  whose  object 
it  is,  is  yet  one  with  that  subject,  and  that  therefore  tho 
antagonism  of  mind  to  its  object  is  only  the  last  differentia- 
tion through  which  it  realizes  its  unity  with  itself.  In 
Hegel's  language,  that  which  presents  itself  as  other  than 
mind  is  ils  other — "an  other  which  is  not  another,"  whose 
difference  and  opposition  to  itself  it  overreaches  and  over- 
comes. We  must,  therefore,  regard  the  independence  and 
externality  of  nature,  its  indifference,  and  even,  as  it  seems, 
opposition,  to  tho  development  of  the  moral  and  intellectual 
life  of  man,  as  merely  apparent.  For  man,  in  this  point 
of  view,  is  not  merely  one  natural  being  among  others,  but 
the  being  in  whom  nature  is  at  once  completed  and 
transcended.  If,  therefore,  at  first  he  appears  to  stand 
in  merely  accidental  and  external  relations  to  the  other 
existences  among  which  he  finds  himself,  yet  tho  whole 
process  of  his  life — tho  process  liy  which  ho  comes  to  know 
the  external  world,  and  by  wliich,  reacting  upon  it,  ho 
make.s  it  the  mr^ans  to  the  reali/.ution  of  an  individual  and- 


METAPHYSIC 


101 


•ocieJ  life  of  hia  own — is  the  negation  of  tliis  contingency 
and  externality.  In  all  this  process  he  is  showing  himself 
to  be  a  being  who  can  only  know  himself  as  he  knows  the 
objective  world,  and  who  can  only  realize  himself  as  he 
makes  himself  the  agent  of  a  Divine  purpose,  to  which  all 
things  are  contributing. 

Such  an  idea  of  man's  relation  to  the  world  is  necessarily 
involved  in  any  theory  that  goes  beyond  that  subjective 
idealism  or  sensationalism  which  denies  to  him  every 
©bject  of  knowledge  except  his  own  states  of  feeling,  and 
every  end  of  action  except  his  own  pleasures  and  pains, 
flecent  speculation,  indeed,  has  suggested  a  compromise  by 
which  this  dilemma  is  supposed  to  be  evaded,  and  mankind 
are  represented  as  forming  an  organic  unity  in  themselves, 
though  they  are  still  conceived  as  standing  in  an  external 
and  accidental  relation  to  nature,  the  forces  of  which  by 
tu6ir  knowledge  and  skill  they  have  subdued  and  are  more 
and  more  subduing  to  their  service.  Such  a  compromise 
We  find  in  the  philosophy  of  Comte,  the  first  writer  who, 
starting  from  an  apparently  empirical  basis,  was  able  to 
break  through  the  individualistic  prejudices  of  the  school  of 
Locke.  In  the  latter  volumes  of  his  Positive  Philosophy, 
still  more  in  his  Positive  Politics,  Comte  so  far  transcends 
individualism  as  to  deny  the  externality  of  men  to  each 
•ther,  aud  to  declare  that  "  the  individual,  as  such,  is  an 
abstraction,"  and  that  in  reality  he  cannot  be  separated 
from  the  social  organism,  which  is  thus  not  merely  an 
extraneous  condition  of  his  development,  but  essential  to 
his  very  existence  as  man.  Thus  individual  men  exist 
only  through  the  viniversal — through  the  spirit  of  the 
family,  of  the  nation,  of  humanity,  which  manifests  itself 
in  them  as  a  principle  of  life  and  development.  Yet  this 
organic  unity,  according  to  Comte,  is  in  contact  with  a 
world  which  in  relation  to  it  is  external  and  contingent. 
Nature  has  not  its  final  cause  in  man,  but  on  the  contrary  is, 
at  first,  rather  his  enemy ;  and  it  is  to  humanity  itself  that 
the  praise  is  due  if  to  a  certain  extent  the  enemy  has  been 
turned  into  a  servant.  The  unity  of  life  which  manifests 
itself  in  humanity  cannot  therefore  be  considered  as  a 
■niversal  principle,  as  the  princii^le  of  the  whole  universe, 
but  simply  as  the  principle  of  the  limited  existence  of  man, 
which  is  hemmed  in  on  evei-y  side  by  external  and,  in  the 
iriaiu,  ur  inown  conditions.  If  humanity  therefore  is  an 
Organism,  it  is  an  organism  existing  in  a  medium  which  in 
reference  to  it  is  inorganic,  i.e.,  in  a  medium  which  has  no 
essential  relation  to  the  life  which  animates  man. 

It  is  obvious,  however,  that  this  theory  is  an  illogical 
attempt  to  find  a  standing  ground  between  two  opposite 
philosophies, — between  the  philosophy  which  treats  man 
merely  as  a  natural  individual,  placed  among  other  individual 
beings  and  things,  and  which  therefore  regards  his  relation 
to  them  as  something  accidental  and  external,  and  the  philo- 
sophy which  treats  him  as  a  spiritual  subject,  a  conscious 
and  self-conscious  being,  and  regards  him  therefore  as  having 
■o  merely  external  relations  either  to  other  men  or  to  nature. 
Comte  shrinks  from  regarding  the  world  without  us  as  the 
manifestation  of  that  spiritual  principle  which  is  also  within 
«s,  which  constitutes  our  very  nature  as  individual  men, 
and  therefore  connects  us  with  the  world  at  the  same  time 
tiiat  it  separates  us  from  it.  Yet  he  recognizes  the 
existence  in  lis  of  a  principle  which  is  so  far  universal  that 
ft  constitutes  a  community  between  all  men.  He  thinks 
that  the  individual  can  transcend  himself,  so  far  as  to  see 
all  things,  not  indeed  from  a  Divine  point  of  view,  siih 
^ecie  sctemitatis,  but  from  the  point  of  view  of  universal 
humanity,  and  that  in  conformity  with  this  theoretical 
oonsciousness,  he  can  live  a  practical  life  of  altruism,  i.e., 
f  a  life  in  which  ho  identifies  his  own  good  with  the  good  of 
humanity.  But  the  philosophy  that  has  gone  so  far  must 
logically  go  further.     It  is  impossible  to  treat  humanity  as 


an  organism  without  extending  the  organic  idea  to  the  con- 
ditions under  which  the  social  life  of  humanity  is  develoi>ed. 
The  medium  by  aid  of  which,  or  in  reacting  against 
which,  the  organized  being  maintains  itself  is  an  essentui 
part  of  its  life ;  it  remains  organic  only  in  so  far  as  it  can 
mould  itself  to  its  conditions,  and  its  conditions  to  itself. 
This  is  true  even  of  the  animal  organism  in  relation  to  its 
small  circle  of  conditions,  which,  however,  is  part  of  a 
larger  circle  to  which  the  animal  has  no  relation.  But  a 
conscious  being  is  a  universal  centre  of  relations ;  there  is 
nothing  which  it,  as  conscious,  cannot  make  part  of  its  own 
life.  Hence  the  application  of  the  organic  idea  to  it  in- 
volves its  application  to  the  whole  world.  And,  if  the 
recognition  of  a  universal  principle  manifested  in  humanity 
naturally  led  Comte  to  the  idea  of  the  worship  of  humanity, 
the  recognition  of  a  universal  principle  manifested  in  man 
and  nature  alike  must  lead  to  the  idea  of  the  worship  of 
God. 

The  rationality  of  religion,  then,  rests  on  the  possibility 
of  an  ultimate  synthesis  in  which  man  and  nature  are 
regarded  as  the  manifestation  of  one  spiritual  principle. 
For  religion  involves  a  faith  that,  in  our  efforts  to  realize 
the  good  of  humanity,  we  are  not  merely  straining  after 
an  ideal  beyond  us,  v/hich  may  or  may  not  be  realized,  but 
are  animated  by  a  principle  which  within  us  and  without 
us  is  necessarily  realizing  itself,  because  it  is  the  ultimate 
principle  by  which  all  things  are,  and  are  known.  This 
absolute  certitude  that  we  work  effectually  becau.se  all  the 
universe  is  working  with  us,  or,  in  other  words,  because 
God  is  working  in  us,  can  find  its  explanation  and  defence 
only  in  a  philosophy  for  which  "  the  real  is  the  rational, 
and  the  rational  is  the  real."  And  such  a  philosophy, 
beginning  with  the  Kantian  doctrine  that  existence  means 
existence  for  a  spiritual  or  thinking  subject,  must  go  on 
to  prove  that  that  only  can  exist  for  such  a  subject  which 
is  the  manifestation  of  thought  or  spirit ;  and,  conversely, 
that  spirit  or  intelligence  is  essentially  self-manifesting,  or," 
in  other  words,  that  it  carmot  be  conceived  except  as 
standing  in  essential  relation  to  an  external  and  material 
world.  Finally,  if  nature  be  thus  regarded  as  a  necessary; 
manifestation  of  spirit,  it  can  be  opposed  to  spirit  only  in' 
so  far  as  spirit  in  its  realization  becomes  opposed  to  itself.' 
In  other  words,  nature  must  be  regarded  as,  from  a  higher 
point  of  view,  included  in  .spirit.  Nature  exists  that  it 
may  show  itself  to  be  spiritual  in  and  to  man,  who 
transcends  it  yet  implies  it,  who  finds  in  it  the  necessary 
basis  of  his  thought  and  action,  but  only  that  he  may  build 
upon  it  a  higher  spiritual  life. 

K.iture  is  made  better  by  no  mean 
But  nature  makes  that  mean  :  so  over  the  art 
Which,  you  say,  adiJs  to  nature  is  au  art 
Which  nature  makes. " 

Only  the  order  of  precedence  suggested  by  these  words 
must  be  inverted.  For,  as  nature  only  is  for  spirit,  so, 
the  spiritual  energy  which  reacts  upon  nature  is  that 
which  manifests  for  the  first  time  what  nature  in  reality 
is.  It  is  the  consciousness  of  this — i.e.,  t>i  the  identity  of 
that  which  is  realizing  itself  within  and  without  us, — the 
consciousness  that  the  necessity  which  is  the  precondition 
of  our  freedom  is  the  manifestation  of  the  same  Epirit 
which  makes  us  free — which  turns  morality  into  religion. 
For  it  is  this  alone  which  enables  us  to  regani  the  realization 
of  the  highest  ends  of  human  life  as  no  mere  happy  accident, 
or  as  a  conquest  to  be  won  by  the  cunning  of  man  from  an 
unfriendly  or  indifferent  destiny,  but  as  the  result  towards 
which  all  things  are  working. 

In  this  philosophy,  which  finds  its  most  adequate 
e.xpression  in  the  works  of  Hegel,  there  are  two  things 
which  may  be  distinguished — the  general  idealistic  view  of  i 
the  world,  and   the  dialectical  movement  of  thought  ha! 


102 


METAPHYSTC 


which  Hegel  dovelofs  and  expresses  it.  And  there  are 
perhaps  many  at  the  present  time  who  are  prepared  to 
accept  the  former,  but  who  yet  suspect,  or  eveu  reject,  the 
latter.  And  no  doubt  there  is  much  in  Hegel's  Logic  and 
Philosophy  of  Spirit,  and  still  more  in  his  Philosophy  of 
Xriture,  which  there  is  reason  to  regard  with  distrust. 
Til  clever  hands  that  are  not  checked  by  a  sufficient  con- 
Roiousness  of  the  whole,  the  Hegelian  dialectic  may  be 
Tiii^de  into  the  means  of  producing  a  seeming  proof  of  any- 
•thing.  Nor  is  it  always  easy  to  determine  how  far  Hegel 
himself  was  tempted  by  an  impatient  consciousness  of  the 
universality  of  his  method  to  employ  it  in  case-  where  the 
conditions  of  its  successful  application  were  wanting. 
Sometimes  he  seems  to  forget,  what  he  himself  teaches,  that 
science  must  first  have  generalized  e.xpsrience  and  deter- 
mined it  by  its  finite  categories,  ere  it  is  possible  for 
philosophy  to  give  its  final  interpretation.  Yet,  when  we 
realize  the  nature  of  that  interpretation,  and  of  the  trans- 
formation of  science  which  philosophy  by  means  of  it 
proposes  to  effect,  it  becomes  clear  that  the  dialectic  of 
Hegel  is  no  extraneous  addition  to  his  idealism,  but  is  part 
and  parcel  of  the  same  movement  of  thought.  For  this 
dialectic  rests  on  the  idea  that  thought  or  self-conscious- 
ness finds  in  its  own  organic  unity  the  ultimate  key  to  all 
difficulties  in  regard  to  the  objects  of  thought  and  their 
relations  to  each  other  and  to  the  mind.  Self-consciousness, 
as-  has  been  already  shown,  is  implicitly  the  whole  web 
of  categories  which  it  throws  over  the  world,  and  by  aid 
of  which  it  makes  the  world  intelligible.  All  these  it 
contains  in  itself;  and,  as  it  proceeds  to  determine  the 
meaning  of  things,  it  simply  produces  its  store,  and 
exhausts  itself  on  the  object.  Now,  if  it  be  idealism,  in  the 
strict  sense  of  the  word,  to  make  thought  or  self-r.onscious- 
ness  the  principle  and  ultimate  explanation  of  all  that 
exists,  it  is  obvious  that  we  cannot  separate  idealism  from 
Buch  a  dialectic  as  this,  which  is  nothing  more  than  the 
mind's  consciousness  of  its  o\vn  movement  or  process  of 
Belf-a£Brmation.  If  to  find  thought  in  things  be  more  than 
an  empty  word,  then  the  movement  or  process  which 
thought  is  must  explain  at  once  the  transition  from 
thought  to  what  in  opposition  to  it  we  call  "  things,"  and 
must  give  us  the  means  of  reconciling  that  opposition.  In 
other  words,  the  same  movement  by  v/hich  thought  deter- 
mines itself  as  self-conscious,  i.e.,  as  a  unity  realized  through 
difference,  must  also  be  conceived  as  the  explanation  of  the 
difference  between  pure  thought  and  the  world,  and  as  the 
solution  of  that  difference  in  the  idea  of  absolute  spirit. 

Such  idealism  has  a  close  relation  to  Christianity ;  it  may 
be  even  said  to  be  but  Christianity  theorized.  It  has  often 
been  asserted  that  Hegel's  philosophy  of  religion  is  but  an 
artificial  accommodation  to  Christian  doctrine  of  a  philo- 
sophy which  has  no  inherent,  relation  to  Christianity.  If, 
however,  we  regard  the  actual  development  of  that  philo- 
sophy it  would  be  truer  to  say  that  it  was  the  study  of 
Christian  ideas  which  first  produced  it.  Wliat  delivered 
Hegel  from  the  mysticism  in  which  the  later  philosophies 
of  Fichte  and  Schelling  tended  to  lose  themselves,  and  led 
him,  in  his  own  language,  to  regard  the  absolute  "  not 
merely  as  substance  but  as.  subject," — what  made  him 
recognize  with  Fichte  that  the  absolute  principle  is  spiritual, 
and  yet  enabled  kim  with  Schelling  to  see  in  nature,  as 
the  opposite  of  spirit,  the  very  means  of  its  realization, — 
was  his  thorough  appreciation  of  the  ethical  and  religious 
meaning  of  Christianity.  In  the  great  Christian  aphorism 
that  "  he  who  loseth  his  life  alone  can  save  it "  he  found 
a,  key  to  the  difficulties  of  ethics,  a  reconciliation  of 
hedonism  and  asceticism.  For  what  this  saying  implies 
is  that  a  spiritual  or  self-conscious  being  is  one  who  is  in 
c.^ntradiction  with  himself  when  ho  makes  his  individual 
ei'!f  his   end.     In   opposing   his  own  interest  to  that  of 


others,  he  is  preventing  their  interests  from  becoming  hlaj 
all  things  are  his,  and  his  only,  who  has  died  to  himselt 
But  if  this  be  the  truth  of  morality,  it  is  something  more, 
for  "  morality  is  the  nature  of  things."  Wo  cannot  separate 
the  law  of  the  life  of  man  from  the  law  of  the  world  ia 
which  he  lives.  And,  if  it  is  the  nature  of  things,  as  it  ii< 
the  nature  of  spirit,  that  he  who  loseth  his  life  shall  save 
it,  the  world  must  be  referred  to  a  spiritual  principle,  and 
the  Christian  doctrine  of  the  nature  of  God  is  only  tha 
converse  of  the  Cliristian  law  of  ethics.  To  Hegel,  starting 
from  this  point,  a  new  light  was  thrown  on  (he  Fichtean 
treatment  of  the  idea  of  self,  and  the  Fichtean  proof  that  the 
consciousness  of  self  implies  a  relation  to  an  object  which 
is  opposed  to  the  self,  and  which  yet  from  another  poiol 
of  view — since  an  objoct  exists  only  for  a  subject — cannot 
be  anything  but  an  element  of  its  own  life.  It  was  seen 
that  this  movement  of  thought  is  no  mere  fluctuation 
between  contradictory  positions,  to  be  terminated  finally  by 
an  ipse  dixit  of  faith,  but  that  the  unity  of  the  opposite 
elements  is  apprehensible  by  the  intelligence,  and '  that 
indeed  it  ia  its  presence  to  the  intelligence  which  makes 
the  consciousness  of  opposition  possible.  It  was  in  this 
sense  that  Hegel  could  say  that  that  unity  of  opposites 
which  had  been  called  unintelligible  by  previous  writers 
was  just  the  very  nature  of  the  intelligence,  and  that  only 
a  view  of  the  world  guided  by  this  idea  could  be  properly 
intelligible,  while  every  other  view  must  contain  in  il 
an  unsolved  contradiction,  an  element  that  remains  per- 
manently impervious  to  thought. 

The  great  objection  to  a  metaphyslc  like  this,  at  least 
an  objection  which  weighs  much  in  the  minds  of  many, 
is  that  which  springs  from  the  contrast  between  the  claim 
of  absolute  knowledge  which  it  see:ns  to  involve  and  the 
actual  limitations  which  our  inteUigence  encounters  in 
every  direction.  If  the  theory  were  true,  it  is  felt  we 
ought  to  be  nearer  the  solution  of  the  problems  of  oni 
life,  practical  and  speculative,  than  we  are ;  the  riddle  of 
the  painful  earth  ought  to  vex  us  less;  we  ought  to 
find  our  way  more  easily  through  the  entanglement  of 
facts,  and  to  be  able  to  deal  with  practical  difficulties  in  a 
less  tentative  manner.  Yet  there  is  really  no  antagonism 
between  such  a  doctrine  and  a  consciousness  of  the  limitar 
tion  of  our  faculties ;  nay  rather,  it  is  only  on  such  a 
theory  that  a  rational  distrust  of  ourselves  can  be  based. 
When  Aristotle  meets  the  warning  that  we  should  think 
finite  and  human  things  since  we  are  finite  and  human 
with  tlie  answer  that  we  ought  rather,  so  far  as  in  us  lies, 
to  rise  to  what  is  immortal  and  divine,  he  is  not  denying 
the  limits  of  man's  knowledge  and  power  ;  on  the  contrary, 
he  is  rather  pointing  to  the  very  principle  which  makes  us 
conscious  of  those  limits  ;  for  it  is  just  because  there  is  io 
man  a  principle  of  infinity  that  he  knows  his  finitude,  and, 
conversely,  it  is  just  in  the  consciousness  of  this  finitude  that 
he  rises  above  it.  A  rational  humility  is  possible  only  to 
one  who  has  in  himself  the  measure  of  his  own  weakness, 
and  who,  if  he  "  trembles  like  a  guilty  thing  surjirised,"  is 
yet  conscious  that  he  is  trembling  before  himself.  This 
truth  is  often  expressed  by  Kant  with  special  relation  to 
the  moral  consciousness,  as  where  he  contrasts  the  limitation 
of  man,  as  a  sensible  being,  occupying  an  infinitesimal  space 
in  the  boundless  world  of  sense,  with  his  freedom  from  all 
limitation  as  a  personal  self,  a  member  of  the  truly  infinite 
world  of  intelligence.  But  it  is  not  necessary  to  adopt 
Kant's  abstract  division  of  the  sensible  from  the  intelligible 
world  to  see  that  the  consciousness  of  the  greatness  of  the 
problem  which  has  to  be  solved  in  human  life  and  thought 
is  deepened  and  widened  by  that  very  idea  of  philosophy 
which  yet  gives  us  the  assurance  that  the  problem  is 
not  insoluble,  and  even  that,  in  principle,  it  is  already 
solved  (.^-  9:) 


ME  T  —  ]\I  E  T 


10^ 


METAPONTUM,  or  ilETAPO^TTOii  (the  first  form  is  that 
■generally  found  in  Latin  writers,  but  Thucydides,  Strabo, 
And  other  Greek  authors  employ  the  latter  form),  was  a 
city  of  Mcgiia  Grjecia  situated  on  the  Gulf  of  Tarentum, 
near  the  mouth  of  the  river  Bradanus,  and  distant  about 
24  miles  from  Tarentum  and  11  from  Heraclea.  It  was 
founded  by  an  Achaean  colony  about  700  b.c.,  though 
various  traditions  existed  which  assigned  it  an  earlier 
origin.  But  according  to  the  only  historical  account  it 
was  a  joint  foundation  from  Sybaris  and  Crotona,  to 
which,  as  usual  in  similar  cases,  was  joined  a  body  of  fresh 
settlers  from  the  mother  country,  under  the  command  of  a 
leader  named  Leucippus.  The  object  of  its  establishment 
was  without  doubt  to  strengthen  the  Achaean  element  in 
Magna  Grsecia,  as  opposed  to  the  increasing  power  of  the 
Tarentines,  but  at  the  same  time  to  occupy  a  territory 
which  was  remarkable  for  its  fertility.  It  was  to  this 
cause  that  lletapontum  owed  the  great  prosperity  to  which 
it  attained  at  an  early  period,  and  appears  to  have  continued 
to  enjoy  for  several  centuries,  though  it  never  assumed  a 
prominent  place  in  history.  It  was,  however,  one  of  the 
cities  that  played  a  conspicuous  part  in  the  political  troubles 
arising  from  the  introduction  of  the  Pythagorean  principles 
into  the  cities  of  lilagna  Grscia,  and  it  was  there  that  the 
philosopher  himself  ended  his  days.  His  tomb  was  still 
shown  there  in  the  time  of  Cicero. 

At  the  time  of  the  Athenian  expedition  to  Sicily 
(415  B.C.)  Metapontmn  appears  to  have  been  an  opulent 
and  powerful  city,  whose  alliance  was  courted  by  the 
Athenians ;  but  they  contented  themselves  with  a  very 
trifling  support.  In  332  b.c,  at  the  time  of  the  expedition 
of  Alexander,  king  of  Epirus,  into  Italy,  it  was  one  of  the 
first  cities  to  espouse  his  cause,  and  enter  into  an  alliance 
with  him  ;  and  they  appear  to  have  in  like  manner  lent  an 
active  support  to  Pyrrhus  at  a  later  period.  Down  to  this 
time,  therefore,  Metapontura  seems  to  have  retained  its 
position  as  one  of  the  principal  cities  of  JFagna  Gra'cia, 
and  there  is  no  evidence  of  its  having  suffered  materially 
from  the  establishment  of  the  Lucanians  in  its  immediate 
neighbourhood.  Nor  have  we  any  account  of  the  precise 
period  at  which  it  passed  under  the  dominion  of  Rome,  or 
the  conditions  under  which  it  became  subject  to  the  great 
republic.  But  it  was  the  Second  Punic  War  which  gave 
the  fatal  blow  to  its  prosperity.  After  the  battle  of  C-iun» 
in  216  B.C.  it  was  among  the  first  cities  in  the  south  of 
Italy  to  declare  in  favour  of  Hannibal,  and  after  the  fall  of 
Tarentum  in  212  B.C.  it  not  only  received  a  Carthaginian 
garrison,  but  became  for  some  years  the  headquarters  of 
Haimiba!.  Hence,  when  the  defeat  of  Hasdrubal  at  the 
Metaurus  (207  B.C.)  compelled  him  to  abandon  this  part 
of  Italy,  and  withdraw  into  the  fastnesses  of  Bruttium,  the 
whole  mass  of  the  inhabitants  of  Jfctapontum  abandoned 
their  city,  and  followed  him  in  his  retreat. 

From  tills  time  Metapontum  sunk  into  a  poor  and  incon- 
iiiderable  town ;  though  it  was  still  existing  as  such  in 
the  days  of  Cicero,  it  soon  fell  into  complete  decay,  and 
Pausanias  tells  us  that  in  his  time  nothing  remained  of  it 
but  a  theatre  and  the  circuit  of  the  walls.  All  remains  of 
these  have  since  disappeared,  but  the  site  is  still  marked 
by  the  ruins  of  a  temple,  which  occupy  a  slight  elevation 
on  the  right  bank  of  the  river  Bradanus,  about  2  miles 
from  its  mouth.  The  sun-ounding  plain,  so  celebrated  in 
ancient  times  for  its  fertility,  is  now  desolated  by  malaria, 
and  almost  uninhabited  ;  and  the  remains  of  the  city  itself, 
between  the  site  of  the  temple  and  the  sea,  are  in  great  part 
burled  in  the  alluvial  deposits  of  the  neighbouring  rivers. 

Some  excavations  were  carried  on  upon  the  spot  by  the 
JJuc  de  Luynes  in  1S28,  and  the  results  of  his  researches 
Vero  published  by  him  in  a  special  work  (Mclaponlc,  fol , 
t>8jis.  1833>. 


JIETASTASIO  (1695-1782).  Pictro  Trapassi,  tho 
Italian  poet  who  is  better  known  by  his  assumed  name  of 
Metastasio,  was  bom  in  Piome,  January  6,  109S.  His 
father,  Felice  Trapassi,  a  native  of  Assisi,  came  to  Rome 
and  took  service  in  what  was  termed  the  Corsican  rcgin\ent 
of  the  papal  forces.  He  subsequently  married  a  Bologiiesc 
woman,  called  Francesca  Galasti,  and  established  himself 
in  business  as  a  sort  of  grocer  in  the  Via  dei  Cappellari. 
Two  sons  and  two  daughters  were  the  fruit  of  this  niaiTiage. 
The  eldest  son,  Leopoldo,  must  bo  mentioned,  since  he 
played  a  part  of  some  importance  in  the  poet's  life. 
Pietro,  while  quite  a  child,  showed  an  extraordinary  talent 
for  improvisation,  and  often  held  a  crowd  attentive  in  the 
streets  while  he  recited  impromptu  verses  on  a  given  subject. 
It  so  happened  that,  while  he  was  thus  engaged  one  evening 
in  the  yeai  1709,  two  men  of  high  distinction  in  Eonian 
society  passed  by  and  stopped  to  listen  to  his  declamation. 
These  were  Gian  Vincenzo  Gravina,  famous  for  legal  and 
literary  erudition,  famous  no  less  for.  his  dictatorship  of  the 
Arcadian  Academy,  and  Lorenzini,  a  critic  of  some  uoto. 
Gravina  was  at  once  attracted  by  the  boy's  poetical  talent 
and  by  his  charm  of  person ;  for  little  Pietro  was  gifted 
with  agreeable  manners  and  considerable  beauty.  The 
great  man  interested  himself  in  the  genius  he  had  accident- 
ally discovered,  made  Pietro  his  proteg^,  and  in  the  course 
of  a  few  weeks  adopted  him.  Felice  Trapassi  was  glad 
enough  to  give  his  son  the  chance  of  a  good  education  and 
introduction  into  the  world  under  auspices  so  favourable. 
Gravina,  following  a  fashion  for  which  we  may  find  pre- 
cedents so  illustrious  as  that  of  Melanchthon,  ReUenized 
the  boy's  name  Trapassi  into  Metastasio ;  and  this  name 
remained  with  him  for  life.  Gravina  intended  his  adopted 
son  to  be  a  jurist  like  himself.  He  therefore  made  the  boy 
learn  Latin  and  begin  the  study  of  law.  At  the  same  time 
he  cultivated  his  literary  gifts,  and  displayed  the  youthful 
prodigy  both  at  his  own  house  and  in  the  Roman  coteries. 
Jletastasio  soon  found  himself  competing  with  the  most 
celebrated  improvisatori  of  his  time  in  Italy.  Days  spent 
in  severe  studies,  evenings  devoted  to  the  task  of  improvis- 
ing eighty  stanzas  at  a  single  session,  were  fast  ruining 
Pietro's  healih  and  overstraining  his  poetic  faculty.  At 
this  juncture  Gravina  had  to  journey  into  Calabria  on 
business.  He  took  Jletastasio  with  him,  exhibited  him  in 
the  literary  circles  of  Naples,  and  then  placed  him  under 
the  care  of  his  kinsman  Gregorio  Caroprese  at  a  little  place 
called  ScaMa.  In  counti-y  air  and  the  quiet  of  the  southern 
sea-shore  Jletastasio's  health  revived.  It  was  decreed  by 
thn  excellent  Gravina  that  he  should  never  improvise  a 
line  again.  His  great  facility  should  be  reserved  for 
nobler  efforts,  when,  having  completed  his'  education,  he 
might  enter  into  competition  with  poets  who  had  be- 
queathed masterpieces  to  the  world. 

Metastasio  responded  with  the  docility  of  a  pliant  nature 
to  his  patron's  wishes.  At  the  age  of  twelve,  while  attend- 
ing to  classical  and  legal  studies,  he  translated  the  Iliad  into 
octave  stanzas;  and  two  years  later  he  composed  a  tragedy  in 
the  manner  of  Seneca  upon  a  subject  chosen  from  Trissino's 
Italia  Liberata — Gravina's  favourite  epic.  It  was  called 
Gi'uftino.  Gravina  had  it  printed  in  1713  ;  but  the  play  is 
lifeless;  and  forty-two  years  afterwards  we  find  Jletastasio 
WTiting  to  his  publisher,  CaLsabigi,  that  he  would  willingly 
suppress  it.  Caroprese  died  in  1714,  leaving  Gravina  his 
heir  ;  and  in  1718  Gravina  also  died.  Metastasio  inherited 
from  the  good  old  man  a  property,  consisting  of  house,  plat?, 
furniture,  and  money,  which  amounted  to  15,000  scudi,  or 
about  £4000.  At  a  meeting  of  the  Arcadian  Academy, 
amid  the  tears  and  plaudits  of  that  learned  audience,  he 
recited  an  elegy  on  the  patron  who  had  been  to  him  so  true 
a  foster-father,  and  then  settled  down,  not  it  seems  without 
real  sorrow  for  his  loss,  to  enjoy  what  was  no  inconsiderable 


104' 


METASTASIO 


fortune  at  that  period.  Jletastasio  was  now  twenty. 
During  the  la»t  four  years  he  had  worn  the  costunae  of 
abbe,  having  taken  the  minor  orders  without  which  it  was 
then  useles:i  to  expect  advancement  in  Rome.  His  romantic 
history,  personal  beauty,  charming  manner.?,  and  distin- 
guished talents  made  him  fasliionablo.  That  before  two 
years  were  out  he  had  spent  his  money  and  increased  his 
reputation  for  wit  will  surprise  no  one.  He  now  very 
sensibly  determined  to  quit  a  mode  of  life  for  which  he 
was  not  born,  and  to  apply  himself  seriously  to  the  work 
of  his  profession.  Accordingly  ho  went  to  Naples,  and 
entered  the  office  of  an  eminent  lawyer  named  Castagnola. 
It  would  appear  that  be  articled  himself  as  clerk,  for 
Castagnola,  who  was  a  stern  master,  averse  to  literary 
trifling,  exercised  severe  control  over  his  time  and  energies. 
While  .slaving  at  the  law,  Metastasio  did  not  wholly  neglect 
the  iluses.  In  1721  he  composed  an  epithalamium,  and 
probaWy  also  his  first  musical  serenade,  Endimione,  on  the 
occasion  of  the  marriage  of  his  patroness  the  Princess 
Pinelli  di  Sangro  to  the  Marchese  Belmonte  Pignatelli. 
But  the  event  which  fi.\ed  his  destiny  was  the  following. 
In  1722  the  birthday  of  the  empress  had  to  be  celebrated 
with  more  than  ordinary  honours,  and  the  viceroy  applied 
to  Metastasio  to  compose  a  serenata  for  the  occasion.  He 
accepted  this  invitation  with  mingled  delight  and  trepida- 
tion ;  for  Castagnola  looked  with  no  favour  on  his  clerk's 
poetical  distractions.  It  was  arranged  that  his  authorship 
should  be  kept  a  profound  secret.  Under  these  conditions 
Metastasio  produced  Gli  Orti  Espcridi.  Set  to  music  by 
Porpora,  it  won  the  most  extraordinary  ap])lause.  The 
great  Roman  prima  donna,  Marianna  Bulgarelli,  called  La 
Romanina  from  her  birthplace,  who  had  jjlayed  the  part 
of  Venus  in  this  drama,  was  .so  enraptured  with  the  beauties 
of  the  libretto  that  she  spared  no  pains  until  she  had  dis- 
covered its  author.  Asked  point-blank  whether  he  had 
not  written  the  words  of  the  successful  play,  Metastasio 
was  obliged  to  answer,  Yes  !  La  Romanina  forthwith  took 
possession  of  him,  induced  him  to  quit  his  la\vyer's  office, 
and  promised  to  secure  for  him  fame  and  independence,  if 
he  would  devote  his  talents  to  the  musical  drama.  It  was 
thus  that  the  opera,  already  partially  developed  by  the 
Caesarean  poet,  Apostolo .  Zeno,  attained  perfection.  The 
right  man  had  been  found  for  maturing  this  form  of  art 
which  the  genius  of  the  age  demanded,  but  which  was  still 
but  incomplete.  In  La  Romanina's  house  Metastasio 
became  acquainted  with  thegreatest  composers  of  the  day, — 
with  Porpora,  from  whom  he  took  lessons  in  music ;  with 
Hasse,  Pergolese,  Scarlatti,  Vinci,  Leo,  Durante,  Marcello, 
all  of  whom  were  destined  in  the  future  to  set  his  plays  to 
melody.  Here  too  he  studieil  the  art  of  singing,  and 
learned  to  appreciate  the  stylo  of  such  men  as  Farinelli. 
His  singularly  pliant  genius  discerned  the  conditions  which 
the  drama  must  obey  in  order  to  adapt  itself  to  music  in 
the  stage  it  then  had  reached.  Gifted  himself  with  extra- 
ordinary facility  in  composition,  and  with  a  true  poetic 
feeling,  he  found  no  ditliculty  in  producing  plays  which, 
while  beautiful  in  themselves,  judged  merely  as  works  of 
literary  art,  became  masterpieces  as  soon  as  their  words 
were  set  to  music,  and  rendered  by  the  singers  of  the 
greatest  school  of  vocal  art  the  world  has  ever  seen.  Read- 
ing Metastasio  in  the  study,  it  is  impossible  to  do  him 
justice.  Our  only  chance  of  rendering  him  a  portion  of 
his  due  is  to  approach  these  lyrical  scenes — so  passionate 
in  their  emotion,  so  cunningly  devised  for  musical  effect — 
with  the  phrases  of  Pergolese  or  Paesiello  ringing  in  our 
ears,  and  to  imagine  how  a  Farinelli  or  a  Caffariello  voiced 
those  stanzas  which  demand  for  their  artistic  realization 
the  "  link6d  sweetness  long  drawn  out "  of  melodies  as  the 
Italian  school  developed  them.  In  short,  Metastasio  is  a 
poet  nrjose  poetry  leapt  to  its  real  life  in  the  environment 


of  music.  The  conventionality  of  all  his  plots,  tha' 
absurdities  of  many  of  his  situations,  the  violence  he  does 
to  history  in  the  persons  of  some  leading  characters,  his 
"  damnable  iteration "  of  the  theme  of  love  in  all  its 
phases,  are  explained  and  justified  by  music.  He  can  stilt' 
be  studied  with  pleasure  and  jjrofit.  But  our  only  chancei 
of  understanding  the  cosmopolitan  popularity  he  enjoyedi 
is  by  remembering  that  at  least  one  half  of  the  effect  he 
aimed  at  has  been  irrecoverably  lost. 

Metastasio  resided  with  La  Romanina  and  her  husband 
m  Rome.  The  generous  woman,-  moved  by  an  affection  half  | 
maternal  half  romantic,  and  by  a  true  artist's  admiration 
for  so  rare  a  talent,  adopted  him  more  passionately  even' 
than  Gravina  had  done.  She  took  the  whole  Trapassi 
family — father,  mother,  brother,  sisters — intoher  ovra  hotise. 
She  fostered  the  poet's  genius  and  pampered  his  caprices. 
Under  her  influence  ho  wrote  in  rapid  succession  tho 
Dkhne  Ahhandonata,  Catonf  in  Utica,  Em,  Alessandr* 
neW  Indie,  Scmiramide  Riconosciuta,  Siroe,  and  A  rlaserse. ' 
These  dramas  were  set  to  music  by  the  chief  composers  of 
the  day,  and  performed  in  the  chief  towns  of  Italy.  Every 
month  added  to  Metastasio's  rerio\\Ti.  But  mc.inwhile  La 
Romanina  was  growing  older;  she  had  ceased  to  sing  iu 
public  ;  and  the  poet  felt  himself  more  and  more  dependent 
in  an  irksome  sense  upon  her  kindness.  He  gained  300 
scudi  (about  X60)  for  each  opera ;  this  pay,  though  good, 
was  precarious,  and  he  longed  for  some  fixed  engagement. 
Abandoning  himself  gradually  to  despondent  whims  and 
fancies,  it  became  clear  that  some  change  in  his  condition 
was  desirable.  And  the  opportunity  for  a  great  change 
soon  presented  itself.  In  September  1729  he  received 
the  offer  of  the  post  of  court  poet  to  the  theatre  at  Vienna, 
with  a  stipend  of  3000  florin.?.  This  he  at  once  accepted. 
La  Romanina  unselfishly  sped  him  on  his  way  to  glory. ' 
She  took  the  charge  of  his  family  in  Rome,  and  he  set  off 
for  Austria. 

In  the  early  summer  of  1730  Metastasio  settled  at 
Vienna  in  the  house  of  a  Spanish  Neapolitan,  Niccoli 
JIartinez,  where  he  resided  until  his  death.  This  date 
marks  a  new  period  in  his  artistic  activity.  Between  the 
years  1730  and  1740  his  finest  dramas,  Adriano,  Danetrio, 
Issipile,  Demofoontc,  OHmpiade,  C'lcmen:a  di  Tito,  AchilU 
in  Sciro,  Tcmistocle,  and  Altilio  liiyolo,  were  produced  for 
the  imperial  theatre.  Some  of  them  had  to  be  composed' 
for  special  occasions,  with  almost  incredible  rapidity — the 
Achille  in  eighteen  days,  the  Ipermnesira  in  nine.  Poet,' 
composer,  musical  copyist,  and  singer  did  their  work 
together  in  frantic  haste.  The  impress  of  the  peculiar 
circurhstances  under  which  they  were  created  is  still  left 
upon  them,  not  only  in  negligence  of  style,  but  also  in  an 
undefinable  quality  which  marks  them  out  as  products  of 
collaboration.  But  what  must  always  surprise  us  is  that 
they  should  be  as  good  as  they  are.  Jletastasio  understood 
the  technique  of  his  peculiar  art  in  its  minutest  details. 
The  experience  gained  at  Naples  and  Rome,  quickened  by 
the  excitement  of  his  now  career  at  Vienna,  enabled  liira, 
almost  instinctively,  and  as  it  were  by  inspiration,  to  hit  the 
e.xact  mark  aimed  at  in  the  opera. 

At  Vienna  Metastasio  met  with  no  marked  social 
success.  His  plebeian  birth  excluded  him  from  aristocratic 
circles.  But,  to  make  up  in  some  nic-xsure  for  this  com- 
jiarative  failure,  he  enjoycil  the  intimacy  of  a  great  lady,'; 
the  Countess  Althann,  sister-in-law  of  his  old  patroness  the 
Princess  Belmonte  Pignatelli.  She  had  lost  her  husband, 
and  had  some  while  occupied  the  post  of  chief  favourite  ta 
tho  emperor.  Metastasio's  liaison  with  her  became  so  close 
that  it  was  even  believed  they  had  been  privately  married. 
From  his  letters  to  his  friend  La  Romanina,  and  to  the, 
great  singer  Farinelli,  who  reigned  supreme  at  the  courti 
of  Madrid,  we  learn  the  littli  details  of  the  poet's  life  inj 


M  'E  ,T  —  M  E  T 


105 


its  weftrisoms's  monotony,"  and' come^ to  comprehend  his 
.haracter,  at  once  generous  and  timid,  selfish  and  amiable, 
prudent  almost  to  excess  of  caution,  and  personally  cold  in 
contradiction  with  the  fervour  of  his  sentimental  muse. 
The  even  tenor  of  this  dull  existence  was  broken  in  the 
year  1734  by  the  one  dark  and  tragic  incident  of  his 
biography.  It  appears  that  La  Romanina  had  at  last  got 
tired  of  his  absence.  Little  satisfied  with  his  friendly  but 
somewhat  reticent  communications,  impitient  to  see  him 
once  again,  inquisitive  perhaps  about  the  terms  on  which 
he  lived  vdth  his  new  mistress,  she  resolved  to  journey  to 
^enna.  Could  not  Metastasio  get  her  an  engagement  at 
the  court  theatre  1  The  poet  at  this  juncture  revealed  his 
own  essential  feebleness  of  chafacter.  To  La  Romanina  he 
owed  almost  everything  as  a  man  and  as  an  artist.  But 
he  was  ashamed  of  her  and  tired  of  her.  He  vowed  she 
should  not  come  to  Vienna,  and  wrote  dissuading  her  from 
the  projected  visit.  The  tone  of  his  letters  alarmed  and 
irritated  her.  It  is  probable  that  she  set  out  from  Rome, 
but  died  suddenly  upon  the  road.  Nothing  can  be  said  for 
certain  about  her  end,  or  about  the  part  which  Metastasio 
may  have  played  in  hastening  the  catastrophe.  All  vre 
know  is  that  she  left  him  her  fortune  after  her  husband's 
life  interest  in  it  had  expired,  and  that  Metastasio,  over- 
whelmed with  grief  and  remorse,  immediately  renounced 
,the  legacy.  This  disinterested  act  plunged  the  Bulgarelli- 
;Metastasio  household  at  Rome  into  confusion.  La 
Romanina's  widower  married  again.  Leopoldo  Trapassi, 
and  his  father  and  sister,  were  thrown  upon  their  own 
resources.  The  poet  in  Vienna  had  to  bear  their  angry 
expostulations  upon  his  ill-timed  generosity,  and  to  augment 
ithe  allowances  he  made  them. 

As  time  advanced  the  life  which  Metastasio  led  at 
iVienna,  together  with  the  climate,  told  upon  his  health 
and  siiirits.  From  about  the  year  1745  onward  he  writes 
complainingly  of  a  mysterious  nervous  illness,  which 
plunged  him  into  the  abyss  of  melancholy,  interfered  with 
ills  creative  energy,  and  constantly  distressed  him  with  the 
apprehension  of  a  general  breakdown.  He  wrote  but 
little  now,  though  the  cantatas  which  belong  to  this 
|j)eriod,  and  the  canzonet  Ecco  quel  fiero  istante,  which  he 
sent  to  his  friend  FarineUi,  rank  among  the  most  popular 
tof  his  productions.  It  was  clear,  as  his  latest  and  most 
genial  biographer,  Vernon  Lee,  has  phrased  it,  that  "  what 
ailed  him  was  mental  and  moral  ennui."  In  1755  the 
Countess  Althann  died,  and  Metastasio  was  more  than  ever 
reduced  to  the  society  which  gathered  round  him  in  the 
bourgeois  house  of  the  Martinez.  He  sank  rapidly  into 
the  habits  of  old  age ;  and,  though  his  life  was  prolonged 
till  the  year  1782,  very  little  can  be  said  about  it.  On 
the  12th  of  April  he  died,  bequeathing  his  whole  fortune 
of  some  130,000  florins  to  the  five  children  of  his  friend 
Martinez.     He  had  survived  all  his  Italian  relatives. 

Durin;^  the  long  period  of  forty  years  in  which  ^letastasio  may  be 
'almost  said  to  have  overlived  his  originality  and  creative  powei-s 
his  fame  went  on  increasing.  In  his  library  he  counted  as  many  as 
forty  editions  of  his  own  works.  They  had  been  translated  ijito 
French,  English,  German,  Spanish,  even  into  Modern  Greek.  They 
had  been  set  to  music  over  and  over  again  by  cverj'  composer  of 
distinction,  each  opera  receiving  tin's  honour  in  turn  from  several 
of  the  most  illustrious  men  of  Europe.  They  had  been  sung  by  the 
>iest  virtuosi  in  every  capital,  from  Madrid  to  St  Petersburg,  from 
London  to  Constantinople.  The  critics  of  all  nations  vied  iu 
raising  Mctustasio's  credit  to  the  skies.  There  was  not  a  literary 
academy  of  note  which  had  rot  conferred  oa  him  the  honour  of 
membership.  Strangers  of  distinction  passing  through  Vietina 
made  a  point  of  paying  their  respects  to  the  old  po^t  at  Jiis  lodgings 
in  the  Kohlmarkt  Gasse.  Letters  of  congratulation,  adulation, 
sympathy,  respect,  condolence,  poured  iu  upon  hira.  And  yet, 
during  the  whole  of  this  lon^  period,  he  was  gradu.iUy  outliving  tlie 
artistic  conditions  upon  which  that  fame  was  really  founded.  It 
has  "been  already  pointed  out  that  Metastasio  cannot  rank  as  a  poet 
io  the  unqualified  sense  of  that  word,  but  as  a  poet  collaborating 
^ith  the  musical  composer  and  perfonaer.      His  poetry,  fui-ther-_ 


more,  was  intended  for  a  certain  style  of  music— for  the  music  of 
omnipotent  vocalists,  of  thaumaturgical  soprani.  M'ith  the  changes 
effected  in  the  musical  drama  by  Gluck  and  Mozart,  with  the 
development  of  orchestration  and  the  rapid  growth  of  the  German 
manner,  a   new  type  of  libretto  came  into  request.     Metostasio's 

Elays  fell  into  undeserved  neglect,  together  with  the  music  to  which 
chad  linked  them.  FarineUi,  whom  ho  styled  "twin-brother," 
was  the  true  exponent  of  his  poetry  ;  and,  with  the  abolition  of  the 
class  of  fingera  to  which  FarineUi  belonged,  Metastasio's  music 
suffered  eclipse.  It  was  indeed  a  just  symbolic  instinct  which  made 
the  poet  dub  this  unique  soprano  nis  twin-brother. 

The  musical  drama  for  which  Metastasio  composed,  and  in  work- 
ing for  which  his  genius  found  its  proper  sphere,  has  so  wholly 
passed  away  that  it  is  now  difficult  to  assign  nis  true  place  to  the 
poet  in  Italian  literary  history.  Compared  with  Shakespeare,  or  eve« 
with  Racine,  ho  hardly  merits  the  title  of  a  dramatist.  Hia  inspira- 
tion was  essentially  emotional  and  lyrical.  '  Instead  of  creating 
characters,  he  created  situations  for  the  display  of  very  varied  feel- 
ings, for  all  the  feelings  in  fact  to  which  melody  allies  itself.  But 
in  doing  this  he  showed  a  capable  playwright's  faculty.  His  per- 
sonages act  and  react  upon  each  other.  Their  characters,  though  not 
in  harmony  with  history  or  fact,  are  clearly  traced  and  cleverly  sus- 
tained. Each  of  the  dramatis  personae  is  an  emotion  incarnate  and  . 
consistent,  admirably  fitted  for  musical  effect  and  contrast.  The 
clash  and  combat  of  passions  are  vividly  presented,  with  the  smallest 
possible  expenditure  of  rhetoric,  in  the  dialogues  inteaded  for 
recitative.  The  climax  of  emotion  is  cadenced  in  appropriate 
stanzas,  with  simple  but  effective  imagery,  at  the  close  of  each 
important  scene.  The  chief  dramatic  situations  are  expressed  ''jy 
lyrics  for  two  or  three  voices,  embodying  the  several  conteii-  .ing 
passions  of  the  agents  brought  into  conflict  by  the  circumstances  of 
the  plot.  The  total  result  is  not  pure  Uterature,  but  lit^ratur* 
supremely  fit  for  musical  effect  Language  in  Metastasio's  hands  is 
exquisitely  pure  and  limpid.  Of  the  Italian  poets,  he  professed  i 
special  admiration  for  Tassoandfor  Mariui.  But  he  avoided  the  con- 
ceits of  the  latter,  and  wa.s  no  master  over  the  refined  richness  of  the 
former's  diction.  His  ovm  style  reveals  the  improvisatore's  facility. 
Ot  the  Latin  poets  he  studied  Ovid  with  the  greatest  pleasure,  and 
from  this  predilection  some  of  his  own  literary  qualities  may  be  de- 
rived. The  pedantic  rules  of  AristoteUan  poetics  never  touched  an 
artist  who  felt  his  real  vocation  to  be  the  interpretation  of  music. 
For  historical  propriety,  for  the  psychology  of  character,  for  unity  of 
plot,  for  probability  of  incident,  he  had  a  supreme  disregard.  It  was 
indeed  his  merit  to  have  discarded  all  these  considerations.  His 
poetry  was  the  twin-sister  of  Italian  melody,  and  he  was  right  in 
ti^usting  entirely  to  music  and  action  on  the  stage  to  render  his  con- 
ceptions vitaL  Wkat,  therefore,  he  gained  during  his  own  lifetime, 
while  the  musical  system  to  which  he  subordinated  his  genius  was 
yet  living,  he  has  since  lost  when,  as  now,  he  must  be  studied  by 
readers  who  have  only  a  faint  and  dim  conception  of  that  perished 
art.  For  sweetness  of  versification,  for  limpidity  of  diction,  for 
delicacy  of  sentiment,  for  romantic  situations  exquisitely  rendered 
in  the  simplest  style,  and  for  a  certain  delicate  beauty  of  imagery 
sometimes  soaring  to  ideal  sublimity,  he  deserves  to  be  appreciated 
80  long  as  the  Italian  language  lasts. 


There  ore  numerous  editions  of  Metastasio's  works.  That  hy  Calsahlgl,  Paris, 
1755,  9  vols.  8vo.  published  under  his  own  superintendence,  was  the  poet's^ 
favourite.  Another  of  Turin.  1757,  and  a  third  of  Paris.  1780,  deseiTC  mention.' 
The  posthumous  worlts  were  printed  at  Vienna,  179&.  The  collected  editions  of 
GenoB,  1802,  and  Padua.  1811,  will  probably  be  found  most  useful  b)-  the  ceneta] 
BUsicnt.  Metastasio's  life  was  wiitfen  by  Alulgi  Asslsi,  1783;  by  Cluiics  Burner, 
London,  1796  ;  and  by  othei~S)  but  by  im*  the  most  vivid  sketch  o!  hia  biography 
will  be  found  In  Vernon  Lee's  Sluditl  0/  Iht  ISlh  Cmtttry  la  Itnlf.  London,  l.«SO, 
a  work  which  throws  a  flood  of  light  upon  the  development  of  ItAiian  dramallQ 
music,  and  upon  the  place  occupied  by  Metastuslo  in  the  aitlstic  movement  of  tha 
last  centui-y.     '  (J.  A.  S.) 

METCALFE,  Chakles  Theophiujs  Metcalfe,  Babojt 
(1785-1846),  a  distinguished  administrator,  was  born 
at  Calcutta  on  January  30,  1785;  he  tvas  the  second  son 
of  Thomas  Theophiltis  Metcalfe,  then  a  major  in  the 
Bengal  army,  who  afterwards  became  a  director  of  the 
East  India  Company,  and  was  created  a  baronet  in  1802. 
Having  been  educated  at  Eton,  where  he  read  extensively, 
he  in  1800  sailed  for  India  as  a  WTiter  in  the  service  of  the 
Company.  After  studying  Oriental  languages  with  success 
at  Lord  Wellesley's  coUege  of  Fort  William,  he,  at  the  age 
of  sixteen,  received  an  appointment  as  assistant  to  Lord 
Cowley,  then  resident  at  the  court  of  Sindhia ;  in  1802 
he  became  assistant  in  the  ofiice  of  the  chief  secretary ;  in 
1803  he  was  transferred  to  that  of  the  governor-general, 
and  in  1806  to  that  of  the  commander-in-chief.  On  August 
15,  1806,  he  became  first  assistant  to  the  resident  at  Delhi, 
and  in  1808  he  was  selected  by  Lord  Min to  for  the  difficult 
post  of  envoy^to  the  court  of  RanjitSinh  at  Lahore;  here, 
XVL  —  .14 


106 


M  E  T  — M  E  T 


on  April  25,  1809,  he  successfully  concluded  the  important 
treaty  securing  the  independence  of  the  Sikh  states  between 
the  Sutlej  and  the  Jumna  Four  years  aftom'ards  he  was 
made  principal  resident  at  Delhi,  and  in  1819  he  rece;%<;d 
the  appointments  of  secretary  in  the  secret  and  political  de- 
partment, and  of  private  secretary  to  the  governor-general 
(Lord  Hastings).  From  1820  to  1823  Sir  Charies  (who 
succeeded  his  brother  in  the  baronetcy  in  1822)  was  resident 
at  the  court  of  the  nizam,  but  in  the  latter  year  he  was  com- 
pelled by  the  state  of  his  health  to  retire  from  active  service  ; 
in  1825,  however,  he  was  so  far  restored  as  to  undertake 
the  residency  of  the  Delhi  territories.  Two  years  after- 
wards he  obtained  a  seat  in  the  supremo  council,  and  in 
February  1835,  after  he  had  for  some  time  been  governor 
of  Agra,  he,  as  senior  member  of  council,  provisionally 
succeeded  Lord  William  Bentinck  in  the  governor-general- 
ship. During  his  brief  tenure  of  office  (it  lasted  only  till 
March  28,  1836)  he  originated  or  carried  out  several 
important  measures,  including  that  for  the  liberation  of  the 
press,  wliich,  while  almost  universally  popular,  complicated 
his  relation  with  the  directors  at  home  to  such  an  extent 
that  he  withdrew  from  the  service  of  the  Company  in  1838. 
In  the  following  year  he  was  appointed  by  the  Melbourne 
administration  to  the  governor.sliip  of  Jamaica,  where  the 
diiBculties  created  by  the  recent  passing  of  the  Negro 
Emancipation  Act  had  called  for  a  high  degree  of  tact  and 
ability.  Sir  Charles  Metcalfe's  success  in  this  delicate 
position  was  very  marked  (see  vol.  xiii,  p.  551),  but  unfor- 
tunately his  health  compelled  his  resignation  and  return  to 
England  in  1842.  Six  months  afterwards  he  was  appointed 
by  the  Peel  ministry  to  the  governor-generalship  of  Canada, 
and  his  success  in  carrying-  out  the  policy  of  the  homo 
Government  was  rewarded  with  a  peerage  shortly  after  his 
return  in  1845.  He  died  at  ilalshanger,  near  Basingstoke, 
September  3,  1846.  See  J.  W.  Kaye's  Life  and  Corre- 
ipomhiKe  of  Charles  Lord  Metcalfe,  London,  185J 

METELLUS,  the  name  of  the  most  important  family  of 
the  Eoman  plebeian  gens  CajciUa.  They  rose  to  distinction 
during  the  Second  Punic  War,  and  NiEvius  satirized  them. 

QuiNTUS  CiECiLius  Metellus  Macedonicus,  pra;tor 
148  B.o.  in  Macedonia,  defeated  Andriscus  in  two  battles, 
and  forced  him  to  surrender.  He  then  superintended  the 
conversion  of  Macedonia  into  a  Koman  province.  He  tried 
unsuccessfully  to  mediate  between  the  Achsan  league  and 
Sparta,  but,  when  the  Achreans  advanced,  he  defeated 
them  easily  near  Scarpheia ;  Mummius  soon  after  super- 
Beded  liiiu,  and  returning  to  Italy  he  triumphed  in  146. 
'Consul  in  143,  he  reduced  northern  Spain  to  obedience. 
In  131  censor  with  Q.  Pompeius  (the  first  two  plebeian 
censors),  he  proposed  that  all  citizens  sliould  be  compelled 
to  marry.  He  was  a  moderate  reformer,  and  was  con- 
sidered the  model  of  a  fortunate  man ;  before  his  death 
in  1 1 5  three  of  his  sons  had  been  consuls,  one  censor,  and 
the  fourth  was  a  candidate  for  the  consulship. 

Qotntus  C/Ecilius  Metellcs  Numidictjs,  whoso  repu- 
tation for  integrity  was  such  that  when  he  was  accused  of  ex- 
tortion the  jury  refused  to  examine  his  accounts,  was  selected 
to  command  against  Jugurtha  in  109  B.C.  He  subjected 
the  array  to  rigid  discipline,  and  aimed  solely  at  seizing 
Jugurtha  himself;  he  defeated  the  king  by  the  river 
Muthul,  and  next  year,  after  a  difficult  mqrch  through  tho 
desert,  took  his  stronghold  Thala.  Jlarius,  however, 
accused  Metellus  of  protracting  the  war,  and  received  tho 
consulate  for  107.  Metellus  returned  to  Homo  and 
triiunphed.  Saturninus,  whom  as  censor  he  tried  to 
remove  from  the  senate,  passed  in  100  an  agrarian  law, 
inserting  a  provision  that  all  senators  should  swear  to  it 
within  five  days.  All  complied  but  Metellus.  who  retired 
to  Asia.  After  Saturninus  was  killed,  he  returned,  but 
died  shortly  after  under  suspicion  of  poison. 


Q0iNrcs  C^ciiitjs  JLetellus  Pros,  so  called  from  his 
efforts  to  restore  his  father  Jfumidicus,  commanded  in  tla 
Social  War,  defeating  Q.  Pompa;dinfi  |  88  B.C.).  SriUa  en 
departing  gave  him  proconsular  command  over  South 
Italy.  'When  Marius  returned,  tho  soldiers,  who  had  no 
confidence  in  Octavius,  wished  Metellus  to  command,  but 
he  refused.  Metellus  retired  to  Africa  and  afterwards  to 
Ligiu'ia,  resuming  his  former  command  on  Sulla's  return. 
In  86  he  gained  a  decisive  victory  over  Norbanns  at 
Faventia.  In  Sulla's  proscriptions  he  pleaded  in  favour  of 
moderation.  .  Consul  in  80  mth  Sulla,  he  went  to  Spain 
next  year  against  Sertorius,  who  pressed  him  hard  till  the 
arrival  of  Pompeius  in  76.  Next  year  MeteUus  defeated 
Sertorius's  lieutenant  Hirtuleius  at  Italica  and  Segovia, 
and  joining  Pompeius  rescued  him  from  the  consequencca 
of  a  check  at  Sucro.  From  this  time  Sertorius  grew 
weaker  till  his  murder  in  72.  Metellus  had  previously 
set  a  price  on  his  head.  In  71  he  returned  to^Rome  and 
triumphed.     He  was  an  upright  man,  of  moderate  ability. 

QuiNTUs  Cecilius  Meteu.us  Pius  Scipio,  son  of 
Scipio  Nasica,  was  adopted  by  the  preceding.  He  was 
accused  of  bribery  in  60  B.c,  and  defended  by  Cicero.  In 
August  52  Pompeius  pirocured  him  the  consulate.  Scipio 
in  return  supported  Pompeius,  now  his  son-in-law.  On 
war  being  resolved  on,  Scipio  was  sent  to  Syria.  His  extor- 
tions were  excessive,  and  he  was  about  to  plunder  tha 
temple  of  Artemis  at  Ephesus  when  he  was  recalled  by 
Pompeius.  He  commanded  the  centre  at  Pharsalus,  and 
afterwards  went  to  Africa,  where  by  Cato's  influence  ha 
received  the  command.  In  46  he  was .  defeated  at 
Thapsus ;  in  his  flight  to  Spain  he  was  stopped  by  a  cor- 
sair, and  stabbed  himelf.  His  connexion  with  two  great 
families  gave  him  importance ;  but  he  was  selfish  and 
licentious,  and  his  violence  di'ove  many  from  his  party. 

QuiNTUS  CECILIUS  Metellus  Celek,  prtetor  63  B.C.,  was 
sent  to  cut  off  Catiline's  retreat  northward.  Consul  in  61, 
his  personal  influence  prevented  the  holding  of  the  Com- 
pitalia,  which  the  senate  had  forbidden  and  the  tribunes 
permitted.  He  opposed  the  agrarian  law  of  the  tribune 
L.  Flavins,  and  stood  firm  even  though  imprisoned ;  the 
law  had  to  be  given  up.  He  also  tried,  though  fruitlessly, 
to  obstruct  Caesar's  agrarian  law  in  59.  He  died  that 
year  under  suspicion  of  poison  given  by  his  nife  Clodia. 

METEMPSYCHOSIS,  die  transmigration  of  tho  soul, 
as  an  immortal  essence,  into  successive  bodily  forms,  either 
human  or  animal.  This  doctrine,  famous  in  antiquity,  and 
one  of  the  characteristic  doctrines  of  Pythagoras,  appears 
to  have  originated  in  Egj^jt.  This  indeed  is  affirmed  by- 
Herodotus  (ii.  123) : — "Tho  Egji^tians  are,  moreover,  tha 
first  who  propounded  the  theory  that  the  human  soul  is  im- 
mortal, and  that  when  tho  body  of  any  one  perishes  it 
enters  into  some  other  creature  that  may  be  bom  ready  to 
receive  it,  and  that,  when  it  has  gone  the  round  of  all 
created  forms  on  land,  in  water,  and  in  air,  then  it  once 
more  enters  a  human  body  born  for  it ;  and  this  cycia  of 
existence  for  the  soul  takes  place  in  throe  thoiisand  years." 

Plato,  in  a  well-known  passage  of  the  r/iarlrux,  adapts, 
as  was  his  wont,  t!ie  Pythagorean  doctrine  to  his  myth  or 
allegoiy  about  the  soul  of  tho  philosopher.  That  soul,  ha 
says,  though  it  may  have  suffered  a  fall  in  its  attempt  to 
contemplate  celestial  things,  stHJ  is  not  condemned,  in  ita 
first  entrance  into  another  form,  to  any  bestial  existence, 
Jjut,  according  to  its  attainments,  i.e.,  to  tho  progre-ss  which 
it  has  made  in  its  aspiration  for  celestial  verities,  it  posses^ 
in  nine  distinct  grades,  into  tho  body  of  some  one  destined 
to  become  a  philosopher,  a  poet,  a  king,  a  general,  a  seer, 
(tc. ;  or,  if  very  inferior,  it  will  animate  a  sophist  or  an 
autocrat  (rvpan'o;).  Plato  extends  the  cycle  of  existence 
to  ton  thousand  years,  which  is  subdivided  into  periods  of 
a  thousand  years,  after  the  Lipse  of  which  the  soula  undergo 


M  E  T  —  M  E  T 


1\j7 


indgment;  and^are  admitted  to  everlasting  happiness  or 
condemned  to  punishment.^  It  is  after  the  period  of  a 
thousand  years,  he  adds,  that  the  human  soul  comes  into 
a  beast,  and  from  a  beast  again  into  a  man,  if  the  soul 
originally  was  human. 

Pythagoras,  who  was  said  to  have  travelled  in  Egypt," 
hrought  this  fantastic  doctrine  into  Magna  Grsecia,  and 
made  it  a  prominent  part  of  his  teaching.  He  declared 
that  he  had  himself  been  Euphorbus,  the  son  of  Panthus, 
in  the  time  of  the  Trojan  War,  and  had  successively 
'inhabited  other  human  bodies,  the  actions  of  all  which  he 
remembered.'  Closely  connected  with  his  theory  of  metem- 
,  psychosis  was  his  strict  precept  to  abstain  from  animal 
'food,  even  from  eggs,  from  some  kinds  of  fish,  and  (for 
'some  unknown,  probably  symbolical,  reason)  from  beans.* 
There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  Egyptian  custom  of  pre- 
serving the  mummies  of  cats,  crocodiles,  and  some  other 
creatures  had  its  origin  in  the  notion  that  they  had  been 
inhabited  by  souls  which  might  some  day  claim  these 
bodies  for  their  own.  We  cannot  suppose  that  Plato  or 
the  later  Greeks  reaUy  believed  in  the  transmigration  of 
souls,  though  there  are  many  allusions  to  it,  generally  of  a 
somewhat  playful  character.  Thus  Menander,  in  the  play 
'called  The  Inspired  Woman^  (©eot/jopou/ie'r?;),  supposes 
•some  god  to  say  to  an  old  man,  Crato,  "When  you  die, 
you  will  have  a  second  existence ;  choose  what  creature 
you  would  like  to  be,  dog,  sheep,  goat,  horse,  or  man." 
To  which  he  replies,  "  Make  me  anything  rather  than  a 
man,  for  he  is  the  only  creature  that  prospers  by  injustice." 

Absurd  and  fantastic  as  such  a  doctrine  as  metem- 
psychosis appears  at  first  sight  to  be,  it  was  in  reality  a 
logical  deduction  from  primitive  ideas  about  the  nature  of 
the  soul.  It  is  necessary  to  explain  these  ideas  (which 
have  important  bearings  on  other  questions)  in  order  to 
show  that  metempsychosis  was  almost  a  necessary  corollary 
to  the  belief  that  the  soul  was  the  vital  or  animating  prin- 
ciple,— that  the  one  distinction  between  organic  and  inor- 
■ganis  was  the  existence  in  the  former  of  a  i/'i'X'?- 

The  difference  between  a  dead  body  and  a  living  body 
—or  rather,  one  principal  difference— was  that  the  living 
animal  breathed  ;  and  it  was  observed  that,  as  soon  as  the 
breath  left  the  body,  not  only  did  warmth  and  motion 
cease,  but  the  body  began  to  decay.  Life,  therefore,  was 
breath,  an  opinion  tacitly  expressed  by  the  Greek  and 
Roman  vocabulary,  animus,  anima  (ave/xo';),  tjrvxrj,  Trvcv/xa, 
spirilus.  But  breath  is  air,  and  air  is  eternal  and  imperish- 
able in  its  very  nature.  Therefore  the  "  soul,"  or  portion 
of  air  which  gave  animation  to  the  body,  did  not  perish  at 
the  dissolution  of  the  body,  but  it  was  returned  to  the 
element  of  which  it  was  composed,  and  out  of  which  it 
came.  It  followed  that,  from  the  countless  millions  of 
"souls"  emancipated  from  bodies  in  all  time,  and  still 
flitting  about  invisibly  in  space,  the  air  must  literally 
swarm  with  soul.s, — a  doctrme  taught  by  Pythagoras." 
Hence,  any  creature,  human  or  bestial,  that  fii'st  drew  the 
breath  of  life,  might,  so  to  say,  swallow  a  soul,  i.e.,  take  in 
vrith  the  act  of  respiration  the  very  same  particles  of  air 
which  had  animated  some  former  body.  For,  although  the 
soul  was  air,  and  returned  to  its  kindred  clement,  it  was 
supposed  to   retain  a   peculiar   character   in   intelligence 

>  P.  249  A.  Comp.  Rev.  xx.  2,  13;  Viig.,  ^n.  vi.  745,  "Doiiec 
longa  (lies,  peifccto  teniporis  orbe,  coDci*et.Tni  exeniit  labem,"  &c. 

=  Diogeu.  Laert.,  viii.  1,  3  ;  Luci.-ii,  Oaltns,  §  18  si;.,  wliere  the 
dactriue  of  metempsychosis  and  the  stories  about  the  pre-existence  of 
Pythagoras  are  wittily  satirized. 

'  Lucian,  Oall-us,  §§  4,  5  ;  Diodor.  Sic,  x.  §§  9,  10  ;  Hor.,  0(1  i. 
28,  10,  "  habeutque  Tartaia  Panllioiden  iterum  Oreo  demissum." 

*  Qallus,  19,  33.    For  fanciful  reasons  for  the  piohiliition  of  beans, 
,  Bee  Lucian,  Vitarum  Audio,  §  5.  ^  Frag.  222,  iVIeineke. 

►    °  Diogen.    Laert.,    viii.    1,    §   32,    eTi-oi  vdyra   riv   ie'pA  t^uxCi' 


(■^/56;);<rts),  remembrance  of  the  i)ast,  and  knowledge  and 
experience  gained  in  some  former  existence.  Any  creature 
which  first  breathed  might  or  mighi,  not  inhale  this  or  that 
soul,  just  as  a  net  thrown  into  the  water  may  catch  this  or 
that  fish,  or  no  fish  at  all.  But  if  no  "  soul  '  was  inhaled 
the  creature  was  believed  for  that  reason  to  die ;  and  the 
different  degrees  of  intelligence  observed  in  different  men 
and  animals  led  to  the  notion  that  there  must  have  been 
a  difference  in  the  souls  that  fii-st  animated  tlicni.  Even 
the  beUef  that  the  soul,  especially  near  the  time  of  dissolu- 
tion from  the  body,  could  foreteU  future  events  was  based 
on  the  notion  of  intelligence  and  c^usciou^uess  residtiii" 
from  experiences  of  the  past.' 

As  all  the  science  of  modern  times  cannot  say  precisely 
what  life  is,  nor  how  it  fii-st  came  upon  this  earth,  it  is  not 
wonderful  that  so  obvious,  though  wholly  erroneous,  an 
explanation  should  have  presented  itself  to  primitive  maa 
when  fii-st  he  began  to  incjuire  into  the  causes  of  things. 
The  extension  of  life,  by  the  same  term  i/'^xv,  to  plants  and 
apparently  non-breathing  things,  which,  liowever,  had  birth, 
growth,  and  death,  was  a  development  of  a  philosophic  age, 
and  we  are  not  surprised  to  find  Aristotle  recognizing  one 
form  of  life  as  vegetaUe,  (Jivtikov.^  The  irrational  confusion 
of  "  soul "  with  sentient  bodily  functions,  the  attribution  to 
spirits  (tiSoXo)  of  motion,  speech,  or  other  muscular  and 
material  action,  though  still  common,  while  metempsychosis 
is  derided  or  forgotten,  is  in  reality,  perhaps,  a  less  excus- 
able superstition. 

The  Romans  inherited  the  doctrine  of  metempsj'chosis 
from  Ennius,  the  poet  of  Calabria,  who  must  have  been 
familiar  with  the  Greek  teachings  which  had  descended  to 
his  times  from  the  cities  of  Magna  Grxcia.  In  his  Aiumh,^ 
or  Roman  hisjory  in  verse,  Ennius  told  how  ho  had  seen 
Homer  in  a  dream,  who  had  assured  him  that  the  same 
soul  which  had  animated  both  the  poets  had  once  belonged 
to  a  peacock,  a  story  that  might  seem  to  indicate  Indian 
traditions.  The  Paro  Pythayoreus  and  the  Soninia  Pytha- 
gorea  are  referred  to  by  Persius  and  Horace,  as  well  as  by 
Lucretius.' 

Theories  suggesting  element-worship  naturally  led  to  the 
notion  that  air  and  etlier  (upper  air)  were  divine.'"  Hence 
every  soul,  as  being  but  a  ])ortion  of  it,  was  in  itself  divine, 
and  therefore  immortal.  We  thus  see  that  the  doctrine  of 
the  immortality  of  the  soul,  whether  attained  by  a  sound 
or  a  vicious  course  of  reasoning,  was  an  inevitable  conclu- 
sion for  early  thinkers.  Pantheisiu  taught  that  all  the 
universe  was  pervaded  by  a  divine  mind,  and  Virgil  cites 
the  opinion  of  some,  that  the  intelligence  of  bees  was  due 
to  a  jiortion  of  this  universal  mind  residing  in  them,  a  view 
closely  allied  to  the  doctrine  of  metempsychosis.' '  A  di\itie 
thing  might  be  polluted,  but  not  destroyed ;  hence  the 
notion  of  purifying  souls  by  airing  them  or  burning  away 
a  material  defilement  is  enlarged  upon  by  Virgil  in  tho 
sLxth  book  of  the  Jineid  (724  sq.).  (f.  a.  p.) 

5IETE0R,  METEORITE.  The  term  meteor,  in  ad 
cordance  with  its  etymology  (^crewpos),  meant  originallj 
something  high  in  the  air.  It  has  been  ap))lied  to  a  large 
variety  of  phenomena,  most  of  them  of  brief  duration, 
which  have  place  in  the  atmosphere.  Disturbances  in  the 
air  are  aerial  meteors,  viz.,  winds  tornadoes,  whirlwinds, 
typhoons,  hurricanes,  &c.  The  vapour  of  water  in  the 
atmosphere  creates  by  its  forms  and  precipitations  tlie 
aqueous  meteors,  viz.,  clouds,  fogs,  mists,  snow,  rain,  hail, 

'  Diodor.  Sic,  xviii.,  §  1.  » Ethics,  lib.  i.  13. 

'  Pers.,  Sat.  vi.  9;  B.or.,'  Epist.  ii.  1,  52;   Lucret.,  i.  124. 

'°  S  Sros  a;e?'jp> Prometheus  exclaims,  iEsch.,  P,om.,  83. 

"  Georr;.  iv.  219— 

His  quidam  signis,  atqne  hsec  exempla  secnti. 
Esse  apibus  partem  diviaae  mentis  ct  haustus 
.Stherios  dixere ;  dcum  namque  ire  per  omnei 
Terrasque  tractusque  maris  cffilumqne  profuBdu 


108 


METEOR 


ii-.  The  effect  of  liglit  upon  the  atmosphere  and  its  con- 
tents caase.-i  certain  luminous  meteors,  viz.,  rainbows,  halos, 
parhelia,  tT\-ilight,  mirage,  &C.  Discussion  of  all  these,  and 
of  like  phenomena,  belongs  to  JttETEOEOLOGY  (q.v.). 

Another  class  of  luminous  meteors,  known  as  shooting 
or  falling  stars,  fireballs,  bolides,  ic,  have  their  place  in 
the  upper  parts  of  the  atmosphere.  But  by  reason  of 
thcjir  origin  from  without  they,  and  the  aerolites  or  meteor- 
ites which  sometimes  come  from  them,  belong  properly  to 
astronomy.  The  term  meteor  is  often  used  in  a  restricted 
sense  as  meaning  one  of  these  latter  phenomena.  The 
present  article  will  treat  of  them  alone. 

The  most  remarkable  of  the  meteors  (and  the  most 
instructive). are  those  which  are  followed  by  the  falling  of 
atones  to  the  earth.  These  have  since  the  beginning  of 
the  present  century  attracted  so  mu«h  attention,  and  the 
phenomena  have  been  so  frequently  examined  and  described 
by  scientific  men,  that  they  are  very  well  understood.  The 
circumstances  accompanying  the  fall  of  stones  are  tolerably 
uniform.  .  A  baU  of  fire  crosses  the  sky  so  bright  as  to  be 
visible,  if  it  appears  in  the  daytime,  sometimes  even  at 
.hundreds  of  miles  from  the  meteor ;  and  if  it  appears  in  the 
night  it  is  bright  enough  to  light  up  the  whole  landscape. 
It  traverses  the  sky,  generally  fiuishing  its  coiu:se  in  a  few 
seconds.  It  suddenly  goes  out,  either  with  or  without  an 
apparent  bursting  in  pieces,  and  after  a  short  period  a  loud 
detonation  is  heard  in  all  the-  region  near  the  place  where 
the  meteor  has  disappeared.  Sometimes  only  a  single  stone, 
sometimes  several  are  found.  For  some  falls  they  are 
numbered  by  thousands.  About  three  thousand  were 
obtained  from  the  fall  of  L'Aigle  in  1803,  scattered  over  a 
region  about  7  miles  long  and  of  less  breadth.  A  like 
number. was  obtained  from  the  fall  of  Knyahinya  on  June 
9,  1866.  At  Pultusk  a  stiU  larger  number  were  collected, 
scattered  over  a  larger  space,  by  a  fall  in  January  1868. 
From  the  Emmet  county  (Iowa)  faU,  May  10,  1879,  a 
similarly  large  number  have  been  secured. 

These  meteors  leave  behind  them  in  the  air  a  cloitd  or 
train  that  may  disappear  in  a  few  second,s,  or  may  remain 
an  hour.  They  come  at  all  times  of  day,  at  all  seasom?  of 
the  year,  and  in  aU  regions  of  the  earth.  They  come 
irrespective  of  the  phases  of  the  weather,  except  as  clouds 
conceal  them  from  view. 

Let  us  describe  one  or  two  of  these  meteors  more  in 
detail.  On  the  evening  of  the  2d  of  December  1876, 
persons  in  or  near  the  State  of  Kansas  saw,  about  eight 
o'clock  in  the  evening,  a  bright  fireball  rising  from  near 
where  the  moon  then  was  in  the  western  sky.  It  increased 
in  brilliancy  as  it  proceeded,  becoming  so  bright  as  to 
compel  the  attention  of  every  one  who  was  out  of  doors. 
To  persons  in  the  northern  part  of  the  State  the  meteor 
crossed  the  southern  sky  going  to  the  east,  to  those  in  the 
southern  part  it  crossed  the  northern  heavens.  To  all  it 
went  down  near  to  the  horizon  a  little  to  the  north  of  east, 
the  whole  flight  as  they  saw  it  occupying  not  over  a 
minute. 

The  same  meteor  was  seen  to  pass  in  nearly  the  same 
way  across  the  heavens  from  west-south-west  to  east-north- 
east by  inhabitants  of  the  States  of  Nebraska,  Iowa, 
Missouri,  Wisconsin,  Illinois,  Michigan,  Kentucky,  Indiana, 
Ohio,  Permsyjvania,  and  West  Virginia.  But  besides  this 
there  were  heard  near  the  meteor's  path,  four  or  five 
minutes  after  its  passage,  loud  explosions  like  distant 
cannonading,  or  thunder,  or  like  the  rattling  of  empty 
jwaggons  over  stony  roads.  So  loud  were  these  that  people 
and  animals  were  frightened.  East  of  the  Mississippi 
river  these  e>q)losions  were  heard  everywhere  within  about 
CO  miles  of  the  meteor's  path ;  and  in  Bloomington,  Indiana, 
sounds  were  heard  supposed  to  come  from  the  meteor  even 
lat  a  distance  of  nearly  160  miles  from  it.    Over  central 


Illinois  it  was  seen  to  break  into  fragments  like  a  rocke^ 
and  over  Indiana  and  Ohio  it  formed  a  flock  or  cluster  of 
meteors  computed  to  be  40  miles  long  and  5  miles  broad. 
The  sky  in  New  York  State  was  wholly  overcast.  Persom 
in  Ohio  and  Pennsylvania,  who  from  their  situation 
could  look  over  the  cloud  last,  saw  the  meteor  passing  oe 
eastward  over  New  York.  From  many  places  in  the 
State  itself  came  accounts  of  rattling  of  houses,  thimdering 
noises,  and  other  liJce  phenomena,  which  at  the  time  wer« 
attributed  to  an  earthquake. 

At  ■  one  place  in  northern  Indiana  a  farmer  heard  t 
heavy  thud  as  of  an  object  striking  the  ground  near  hk 
house.  The  ne.\t  morning  he  found  on  the  snow  a  stone  of 
very  pecidiar  appearance  weighing  three-quarters  of  a  poundj 
which  from  its  character  there  is  every  reason  to  believ» 
came  from  the  meteor.  By  putting  together  the  variou* 
accounts  of  observers,  the  meteor  is  shown  to  have  become 
first  visible  when  it  was  near  the  north-west  comer  of  th» 
Indian  Territory,  at  an  elevation  of  between  60  and  100 
miles  above  the  earth.  From  here  it  went  nearly  parallel 
to  the  earth's  surface,  and  nearly  in  a  right  line,  to  a  point 
over  central  New  York.  Dming  the  latter  part  of  iti 
course  its  height  was  30  or  40  miles.  It  thus  traversed 
the  upper  regions  of  the  air  through  25°  of  longitude  and 
5°  of  latitude  in  a  period  of  time  not  easily  determined^ 
but  probably  about  two  minutes.  A  part  of  the  body  may 
have  passed  on  out  of  the  atmosphere,  but  probably  th» 
remnants  came  somewhere  to  the  ground  in  New  Yoil^ 
or  farther  east. 

A  somewhat  similar  meteor  was  seen  in  the  evening  of 
JvUy  20,  1860,  by  persons  in  New  York,  Pennsylvania, 
New  England,  &c.,  which  first  appeared  over  Michigan,  at 
a  height  of  about  90  miles.  The  light  was  so  brilliant  aa 
to  caU  thousands  from  their  houses.  It  passed  east-soutb- 
east,  and  over  New  York  State,  at  a  height  of  about  50 
miles,  broke  into  three  parts  which  chased  each  other  across 
the  sky.  At  New  York  city  it  was  seen  in  the  nort^^ 
while  at  New  Haven  it  was  in  the  south.  At  both  place* 
the  apparent  altitude  was  well  observed,  and  its  true  height 
proved  to  be  about  42  miles  above  the  earth's  surfac* 
between  the  two  cities.  It  filially  disappeared  far  out  over 
the  Atlantic  Ocean.  It  is  doubtful  whether  any  one  heard 
any  sound  of  explosion  that  came  from  this  meteor,  and 
no  part  of  it  is  known  to  have  reached  the  ground.  Th» 
velocity  was  at  least  10  or  12  miles  per  second,  or  fiftj 
times  the  velocity  of  soimd.  These  two  meteors  wer» 
evidently  of  the  same  nature  as  those  which  have  furnished 
so  many  stones  for  our  museums,  except  that  the  one  was 
so  friable  that  it  has  given  us  but  one  known  fragment 
while  the  other  was  only  seen  to  break  in  two,  not  even  a 
sound  of  explosion  being  known  to  have  come  from  th» 
meteor. 

Next  to  the  stone-producing  inelcor  is  the  fireb-Tll,  or 
bolide,  which  gives  generally  a  less  brilliant  light  tkan  the 
former,  but  in  essential  appeaiances  is  like  it.  The  meteor  ai 
July  20,  1860,  above  described,  though  unusually  brilliant 
was  one  of  this  class,  and  represents  thousands  of  bolides 
which  have  been  seen  to  break  in  pieces.  The  bolides 
leave  trains  of  light  behind  them  just  as  the  stone  meteors 
do ;  they  travel  with  similar  velocities  both  apparent  ant 
actual,  and  in  all  respects  exhibit  only  such  differences  erf 
phenomena  as  would  be  fully  explained  by  differences  im 
size,  cohesion,  and  chemical  constitution  of  stones  causing 
them. 

Ne.xt  to  the  bolide  is  a  smaller  meteor  which  appeals 
as  if  one  of  the  stars  were  to  leave  its  place  in  the  heavens, 
shoot  across,  the  sky,  and  disappear — all  within  the  fractios 
of  a  second.  Some  meteors  of  this  class  ore  as  bright  as 
Venus  or  Jupiter.  Some  are  so  small  that  though  you  look 
directly  at  the  meteor,  you  doubt  whether  you  see  one  fit 


METEOR 


109 


mot  In  the  telescope  still  smaller  ones  are  seen  that  are 
■visible  to  the  naked  eye.  Meteors  comparable  in  bi-ight- 
■ess  to  the  planets  and  the  fixed  stars  are  usually  called 
Aooting  stars. 

These  various  kinds  of  meteors  differ  from  all  other 
luminous  phenomena  so  as  to  stand  in  a  group  entirely 
alone.  Though  they  have  been  sometimes  regarded  as 
separable  among  themselves  into  three  or  four  different 
species,  and  for  purposes  of  description  may  still  be  so 
divided,  yet  they  all  seem  to  have  a  Uke  astronomical 
character,  and  the  differences  are  only  those  of  bigness, 
chemical  constitution,  velocity,  <tc.  There  appears  to  be 
no  clear  line  of  distinction  between  the  stone-producing  and 
the  detonating  meteors,  nor  between  those  heard  to  e.xplode 
uid  those  seen  to  break  in  pieces,  nor  between  these  and 
the  simple  fireballs,  nor  between  the  fireball  and  the 
faintest  shooting  star. 

Alliludes  of  Meteors. — The  first  important  fact  about 
ihe  meteors  is  the  region  in  which  they  become  visible  to 
■s.  In  hundreds  of  instances  observations  have  been 
made  upon  the  luminous  path  of  a  meteor  at  two  or  more 
stations  many  miles  apart.  When  such  stations  and  the 
path  arc  properly  situated  relatively  to  each  other,  observa- 
tions carefully  made  will  show  a  ijarallax  by  which  the 
height  of  the  meteor  above  the  earth,  the  length  and  di- 
rection of  the  path,  and  other  like  quantities  may  be  com- 
puted. The  general  result  from  several  hundred  instances 
is  that  the  region  of  meteor  paths  may  be  in  general 
regarded  as  between  40  and  80  miles  above  the  earth's 
surface.  Some  first  appear  above  80  miles,  and  some 
descend  'lelow  40  miles.  But  an  altitude  greater  than 
100  miles,  or  one  below  25,  except  in  the  case  of  a  stone- 
furnishing  •  meteor,  must  be  regarded  as  very  doubtful. 
,Thus  the  meteor  paths  are  far  above  the  usual  meteoro- 
logical phenomena,  which  (except  auroras  and  twilight) 
have  not  one-tenth  of  the  height  of  the  meteors.  But 
■with  reference  to  all  other  astronomical  phenomena  they 
are  very  close  to  us.  The  comets,  for  example,  are  well- 
nigh  a  millionfold,  and  even  the  moon  is  a  thousandfold, 
more  distanc  from  us. 

Velocities  of  Meteors. — When  the  length  of  a  luminous 
path  is  known,  and  the  time  of  describing  it  has  been 
observed,  it  is  easy  to  compute  the  velocity  in  mOes. 
Unfortunately  the  large  meteors,  describing  long  paths, 
oome  at  rare  intervals,  and  unexpectedly,  and  it  is  a  happy 
accident  when  ope  is  observed  by  a  person  accustomed  to 
estimate  correctly  short  intervals. of  time.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  total  time  of  visibility  of  the  shooting  stars, 
which  come  so  frequently  that  they  may  be  watched  for, 
is  usually  less  than  a  second.  It  is  not  easy  to  estimate 
correctly  such  an  interval,  where  the  beginning  and  ending 
are  not  marked  by  something  like  a  sharp  cUck.  Hence 
all  estimates  and  computations  of  velocities  of  meteors  are  to 
be  received  with  due  regard  to  their  uncertainty.  We  may 
only  say  in  general  that  the  velocities  computed  from  good 
observations  are  rarely  if  ever  under  8  or  10  miles  a  second, 
or  over  40  or  50  miles,  and  that  some  have  far  greater 
velocities  than  others.  The  average  velocity  seems  to  be 
nearly  30  miles. 

W/iat  makes  the  Luminous  Meteor. — The  cause  of  a 
meteor  is  now  universally  admitted  to  be  something  that 
enters  the  earth's  atmosphere  from  without,  with  a 
Telocity  relative  to  the  earth  that  is  comparable  with  the 
earth's  velocity  in  its  orbit,  which  is  19  miles  per  second. 
By  the  resistance  it  meets  in  penetrating  the  air  the  light 
and  other  phenomena  of  the  luminous  train  are  produced. 
Under  favourable  circiunstances,  portions  of  these  bodies 
jfsach  the  earth's  surface  as  meteorites. 

Meteoroids. — A  body  which  is  travelling  in  space,  and 
which  on  coming   into  the  air   would   under  favourable 


circumstances  become  a  meteor,  may  be  called  a  uieteca- 
oid. 

Tlie  meteoroids  are  all  solid  bodies.  It  would  hardly , 
be  possible  for  a  small  quantity  of  gas  out  iji  space  to 
retain  such  a  density  as  would  enable  it  on  coming  into 
the  air  to  go  10  or  100  miles  through  aven  the  rare  upper 
atmosphere,  and  give  us  the  clear  line  which  a  shooting 
star  describes.  Even  if  a  liquid  or  gaseous  mass  can  travel 
as  such  in  space,  it  would  be  instantly  scattered  on  striking 
the  air,  and  would  appear  very  unlike  a  shooting  star  or 
bolide. 

Kttmbers  of  Meteors. — Of  the  larger  meteoi-s  there  are  in 
the  mean  six  or  eight  per  annum  which  in  the  last  fifty  yeare 
have  furnished  stones  for  our  collections.  A  much  larger 
number  have  doubtless  sent  down  stones  which  have  never 
been  found.  Thus  Daubri^e  estimates  for  the  whole  earth 
an  annual  number  of  six  or  seven  hundred  stone-falls. 

But  of  the  small  meteors  or  shooting  stars  the  number, 
is  very  much  larger.  Any  person  who  shoiUd  in  a  clear 
moonless  night  watch  carefully  a  portion  of  the  heavens 
•would,  in  the  mean,  see  at  least  as  many  as  eight  or  ten 
shooting  stars  per  hour.  A  clear-sighted  and  practised 
observer  will  detect  somewhat  more  than  this  uunibor.. 
Dr  Schmidt  of  Athens,  from  observations  made  during 
seventeen  years,  obtained  fourteen  as  the  mean  hourly  num- 
ber on  a  clear  moonless  night  for  one  observer  during  the 
hour  from  midnight  to  1  a.m.  A  large  group  of  observers, 
as  has  been  shown  by  trial,  would  see  at  least  six  times  as 
many  as  a  single  person.  By  a  proper  consideration  of  the 
distribution  of  meteor  paths  over  the  sky,  and  in  actual 
altitude  in  miles,  so  as  to  allow  for  mists  near  the  horizon, 
it  appears  that  the  number  over  the  whole  globe  is  a  little 
more  than  ten  thousand  times  as  many  as  can  be  seen  in 
one  place.  This  implies  that  there  come  into  the  aii-  not  less 
than  twenty  millions  of  bodies  daily,  each  o£  which,  under 
very  favourable  conditions  of  absence  of  sunlight,  moon- 
light, clouds,  and  mists,  would  furnish  a  shooting  star 
visible  to  the  naked  eye.  Shooting  stars  invisible  to  the 
naked  eye  are  often  seen  in  the  telescope.  The  numbers 
of  meteors,  if  these  are  included,  would  be  increased  at 
least  twentyfold. 

How  detisely  Space  infilled  vntk  Meteoroids. — By  assuming 
that  the  absolute  velocity  of  the  meteors  in  space  is  equal 
to  that  of  comets  moving  in  parabolic  orbits  (we  have  good 
reason  to  believe  that  this  is  nearly  their  true  velocity),  we 
may  prove  from  the  above  numbers  that  the  average  number 
of  meteoroids  in  the  space  that  the  earth  tra  v  erses  is,  in  each 
volume  equal  to  that  of  the  earth,  about  thirty  thousand. 
In  other  words,  there  is  in  the  average  to  every  portion  of 
space  equal  to  a  cube  whose  edge  is  about  210  miles  one 
meteoroid  large  enough  to  make  a  shooting  star  bright 
enough  to  be  visible  to  the  naked  eye.  Such  meteoroids 
would,  upon  an  equable  distribution,  be  each  in  round 
numbers  250  miles  from  its  near  neighbours.  All  these  num- 
bers rest  upon  Dr  Schmidt's  horary  number  fourteen,  and 
for  a  less  practised  observer  and  a  less  clear  sky  they  would 
be  correspondingly  changed.  How  much  they  would  need 
to  be  altered  to  represent  other  parts  of  space  than  those 
near  the  earth's  orbit  is  a  subject  of  inference  rather  than 
of  observation. 

Motion  in  Space. — The  meteoroids,  whatever  be  their 
size,  must  by  the  law  of  gravitation  have  motions  about 
the  sun  in  the  same  way  as  the  planets  au<J  comets,  that 
is,  in  conic  sectioiis  of  which  the  sun  is  always  at  one  focus. 
The  apparent  motions  of  the  meteors  across  the  sky  imply 
that  these  motions  of  the  meteoroids  relative  to  the  stm 
cannot  as  a  rule  be  in  or  near  the  plane  of  the  ecliptic. 
For  if  they  were  there,  since  the  motion  of  the  earth  is  also 
in  the  ecliptic,  the  motion  of  the  meteoroids  relative  to  .the 
earth  wQuld  be  in  the  same  plane.     This  would  inrolve 


110 


METEOR 


that  all  tlio  meteor  paths  as  seen  on  the  sky  would  if  jiro- 
duced  backward  cross  the  ecliptic  above  the  horizon.  lu 
fact  there  is  no  tendency  of  this  kind.  Hence  the  metcor- 
oids  d'j  not  move  in  orbits  that  are  near  the  ecliptic  as  the 
jilanets  do,  but  like  the  comets  they  may  and  usually  do 
hive  orbits  of  considerable  inclinations. 

Kumbers  tlirovjh  the  Kiyhl. — There  are  more  meteors 
Been  in  the  morning  hours  than  in  the  evening.  If  the 
meteors  had  no  motion  of  their  own  in  space,  the  earth 
would  by  its  motion  receive  the  meteors  only  on  the  bemi- 
Ephere  that  was  in  front.  There  would  be  no  meteors  seen 
in  the  other  hemisphere.  On  the  other  hand,  if  the  meteors 
had  such  large  velocities  of  their  own  as  that  the  earth's 
velocity  might  be  neglected  in  comparison,  and  if  the 
<lirectious  of  the  meteors'  motions  were  towards  all  points 
iiidiscriminately,  then  as  many  would  be  seen  in  one  part 
of  the  night  as  another.  In  fact  there  are  'about  three 
times  as  many  seen  in  the  morning  hours  as  in  the  evening. 
The  law  of  change  from  evening  to  morning  gives  a  means 
of  proving  that  the  mean  velocity  of  meteors  is  so  great 
that  they  must  in  general  be  moving  in  long  orbits  abo'it 
the  sun.  In  this  respect  also  the  meteoroids  resemble 
comets,  and  are  unlike  planets,  in  their  motions.  Of  the 
Btone-furnishing  meteors  more  are  seen  in  the  day  than  in 
the  night,  and  more  in  the  earlier  hours  of  the  night  than 
du  the  later.  This  is  probably  due  to  the  fact  that  more 
persons  are  in  a  position  to  sec  the  stone-falls  at  the  periods 
of  greater  abundance. 

Star  Showers. — While  the  average  number  of  shooting 
stars  for  a  single  observer  at  midnight  may  be  regarded  as 
tolerably  constant,  there  have  been  special  epochs  when 
many  more  have  been  seen.  In  certain  instances  the  sky 
has  been  filled  with  the  luminous  trains,  just  as  it  is  filled 
by  descending  snowflakes  in  a  snowstorm,  making  a 
veritable  shower  of  fire.  One  of  the  best-observed,  though 
by  no  means  the  most  brilliant,  of  these  showers  occurred 
on  the  evening  of  the  27th  of  November  1S72.  Some  of 
the  observers  of  that  shower,  counting  singly,  saw  at  the 
rate  of  eight  or  ten  thousand  shooting  stars  in  the  course 
of  two  hours.  The  distances  of  the  meteoroids  in  the 
middle  of  the  swarm  which  the  earth  then  passed  through, 
each  from  its  nearer  neighbours,  would  be  30  or  40  miles. 
The  following  quotations  show  the  impression  made  by 
star  showers  in  times  past  : — 

"In  the  year  2S6  [of  the  Hesira]  there  h.ippened  in  Egypt  an 
earthquake  on  Wednesday  the  7tli  of  Dhu-l-Ka'dah,  lasting  from  the 
iiiidJlc  of  the  night  until  morning  ;  and  so-called  naming  stars 
struck  one  against  nnothci-  viiilenrly  while  being  boine  eastward 
and  westward,  nortliward  and  southward,  and  no  one  could  bear  to 
look  toward  the  heavens  on  accfiinit  of  this  iihenomenon." 

"lathe  year  599  [of  the  Hegiia],  on  the  night  of  Saturday,  on 

the  last  day  of  lluhanani,  stars  shot  hither  and  thither  in  the 
lieavous,  eastward  and  westward,  and  flew  against  one  another  like 

ft  scatteiiiig  swarm  of  locusts,  to  the  right  and  left ;  people  were 

thrown  into  consternation,  and  cried  to  God  the  Most  High  with 

confused  clamour." 

"These  meteors  [November  12,  179D]  might  be  compared  to  tho 

blazing  eheaves  shot  out  from  a  firework." 

"The  Iihenomenon  was  grand  and  awful;  tho  wholo  lieavens 

iippoared  as  if  illuinin.itcd  with  sky  rockets." 

November   13,    1333.      "Thick  with   streams   of  rolling  firej 

tcarcely  a  space  in  the  Cnuaineut  that  was  not  filled  at  every 

instant." 
"Almost  mfiuite  number  of  meteors;  they  fell  like  flakes  of 

snow." 

Kovemher  Meteors  or  Leonids. — These  quotations  all  refer 

(except  possibly  the  fir.^t)  to  a  shower  which  has  appeared 

in  October  and  November  of  many  different  years  since  its 

first  kno\vn  occurrence  on  the  13th  of  October  902  a.d. 

Dates  of  these  showers  are  given  in  tho  following  table  : — 
0.t.  13,  902.  Oct.  17,  1101.  Oct.  25,  lCn2.  Kov.  13,  1833. 
Oct.  15,  931.  Oct.  19,  1202.  Kov.  9,  lC:i8.  Nov.  H,  1800. 
Oct.  14,  934.  Oct.  23,  1360.  Kov.  12,  1799.  Nov.  11,  1SC7. 
Oct  15,  1002.     Oct.  20,  1633.    Kov.  13,  1832.     Kov.  14,  1868. 


On  several  years  after  1S33,  and  beiore  and  aft« 
1866-63,  there  were  unusual  numbeis  of  those  meteors  seen 
on  the  mornings  of  November  13,  14,  and  15,  though  per- 
haps they  would  have  been  uimoticed  Lad  there  not  beeo 
special  watching  for  them.  It  will  be  seen  that  all  these 
showers  are  at  intervals  of  a  third  of  a  century,  that  they 
are  at  a  fixed  day  of  the  year,  and  that  tho  day  has  moved 
steadily  and  uniformly  along  the  calendar  at  the  rate  of 
about  a  month  in  a  thou&and  years.  The  change  of  twelve 
days  in  tho  17  th  century  is  due  to  the  change  from  old  to 
new  style. 

Tlie  only  explanation  of  this  periodical  display  that  is 
now  seriously  urged,  and  the  one  which  is  universally 
accepted  by  astronomers,  is  that  there  is  a  long  thin  stream 
of  meteoroids,  each  of  which  is  travelling  about  the  sun  in 
a  conic  section.  These  conic  sections  are  all  nearly 
parallel,  and  have  nearly  the  same  major  axis,  extending 
out  about  as  far  as  to  the  orbit  of  Uranus,  and  each  requir- 
ing the  common  period  of  thirty-three  and  a  quarter^ 
years.  The  length  of  the  stream  is  such  that  the  most 
advanced  members  are  six  or  eight  years  ahead  of  the 
hiadermost,  and  they  all  cross  the  earth's  orbit  with  a 
velocity  of  about  26  miles  a  second.  Since  the  earth 
plunges  through  the  group  nearly  in  the  opposite  direction, 
the  velocity  wnth  which,  they  enter  the  air  is  44  miles  a 
second.  One  of  the  facts  which  have  greatly  aided  us  in 
arriving  at  this  explanation  is  that  these  meteors  in  all 
the  years  and  through  aU  hours  of  the  night  cross  the  sky 
as  we  look  at  them  in  Unes  which  diverge  from  a  point 
near  the  centre  of  the  sickle  in  the  constellation  Leo ;  henca 
the  paths  in  the  air  are  parallel.  This  implies  ,that  their 
velocities  relative  to  the  sun  are  all  parallel  and  equal  to 
each  other.  The  radiation  from  Leo  has  given  to  them  the 
name  Leonids. 

Orbit  of  the  Leonids. — This  orbit,  common  to  all  the.' 
Leonid  meteors,  is  incUned  to  the  ecliptic  at  an  angle  of  17 
(or  rather  163°,  since  the  motion  is  retrograde),  has  a  major 
axis  of  10-34,  a  periodic  time'of  3327  years,  and  a  peri- 
helion distance  a  little  less  than  unity. 

The  above  orbit,  and  that  alone,  explains  the  several 
appearances  of  the  November  meteors,  the  annual  and  the 
thiity-three  year  periods,  the  radiation  from  Leo,  and  the 
change  of  day  of  the  month  in  the  course  of  the  centuries. 
This  it  does  so  completely  that  the  result  has  never  been 
questioned  by  astronomers.  Shortly  after  the  publication 
by  Professor  Adams  in  1867  of  the  last  link  in  the  chain 
of  the  proof  of  this  orbit,  there  was  also  published  tho 
definitive  orbit  of  the  comet  1866  L  That  the  comet  was 
running  almost  exactly  in  the  orbit  of  the  meteors  was  at 
once  recognized.  In  fact  the  comet  is  itself,  in  a  sense,  a 
meteoroid,  and  the  principal  member,  so  far  as  we  know, 
of  the  group.  Leonids  had  been  seen  in  1863,  two  years 
and  two  months  in  advance  of  the  comet,  while  those  of 
1866  were  ten  months  behind  it.  Those  of  later  years  (a 
few  Leonids  were  seen  even  in  1870)  were  extended  along 
the  line  of  tho  comet's  path  behind  it.  The  leaders  of  this 
long  file  of  meteoroids  had  [lassed  up  beyond  the  orbit  of 
Juiiiter  long  before  those  which  brought  up  the  rear  had 
crossed  that  planet's  orbit  going  do\ra  toward  the  sun. 
The  thickness  of  tho  stream  is  less  than  the  ten-thousandth 
part  of  its  length.  In  the  densest  jiart  that  we  have 
recently  passed  through— namely,  that  traversed  in  1833— 
the  density  of  the  stream  may  be  expressed  by  saying  that 
each  meteoroid  must  in  tho  mean  have  been  10  or  20 
miles  from  its  nearest  neighbours. 

Wh(tt  males  this  Comet  and  these  Meteors  deseribe  lh< 
same  Orbit  about  the  Sun  f— Us  path  might  have  been 
inclined  to  the  ecliptic  at  any  angle  instead  of  163  .  Or, 
n-ith  this  inclination,  its  plane  might  have  cut  tho  earthf 
orbit  at  any  other  place  than  where  the  earth  is  on  the  14th 


METEOR 


111 


of  November.  Or,  happening  to  have  these  two  elements 
in  common,  it  might  have  passed  the  earth's  orbit  nearer 
the  sun  or  farther  away  from  it  than  the  earth  is.  Or, 
having  these  three  things  in  common,  it  might,  by  a  slight 
difference  in  velocity,  have  had  a  periodic  time  much  more 
or  much  less  than  thirty-three  years.  Or,  with  all  these 
in  common,  it  might  have  crossed  the  earth's  orbit  at  a  far 
different  angle  than  the  meteors.  These  several  independ- 
ent elements  for  the  comet  and  the"  meteors  are  substan- 
tially identical,  and  this  identity  proves  almost  beyond 
doubt  that  between  the  two  either  there  is  now  an  actual 
or  else  there  has  been  in  the  past  a  causal  connexion. 
pTiat  there  is  now  any  physical  connexion  is  thovoaghly 
[disproved  by  the  immense  magnitude  of  the  stream,  and 
by  the  isolation  and  distances  from  each  other  of  the 
individual  components.  It  seems  difficult  to  find  any  cause 
that  should  bring  into  such  a  strangely  shaped  group 
bodies  that  had  originally  orbits  distributed  at  random. 
Hence  we  are  apparently  forced  to  conclude  that  these 
meteoroids  have  something  common  in  their  past  history. 
In  fact  they  seem  to  have  been  once  parts  of  a  single  body, 
and  these  common  elements  are  essentially  those  of  the 
parent  "mass.  By  some  process  not  yet  entirely  explained 
they  have  become  separated  from  the  comet,  thrown  out  of 
the  control  of  its  attractive  power,  and  so  left  to  travel 
each  one  in  its  o^vn  orbit.  If  the  cause  of  separation  was 
not  too  violent,  each  new  orbit  would  necessarily  be  but 
slightly  different  from  that  of  the  comet.  Very  small 
variations  in  velocity,  and  hence  in  periodic  time,  would 
in  the  course  of  ages  scatter  the  several  individuals  along 
the  orbit  even  to  the  length  of  many  hundreds  of  millions 
of  miles. 

Tlie  Meteor  Group  is  not  the  Cornelia  Tail. — These 
meteoroids  must  be  carefidly  distinguished  from  the 
comet's  tails.  The  former  follow  or  precede  the  comet 
exactly  in  the  comet's  path;  the  particles  that  compose 
the  latter  are  driven  oS  by  the  sun's  repulsion  directly 
away  from  the  comet's  path.  The  meteoroids  and  the 
comet  have  orbits  with  nearly  common  elements ;  the 
orbits  of  the  particles  of  the  tail  have  elements  that  are 
unUke  each  other,  and  unlike  those  of  the  comet.  The 
meteoroids  are  undoubtedly  solid  masses ;  the  tails  are 
pulverulent  or  gaseous. 

Twin  Comets  of  1366. — The  comet  1866  I.  is  probably 
not  the  only  one  that  has  been  connected  with  the  November 
meteors.  In  1366,  a  few  days  after  the  earth  went  through 
the  meteor  stream,  a  comet  appeared  in  the  northern 
heavens,  and,  passing  directly  in  the  hne  of  the  stream  so 
close  to  the  earth  as  to  describe  an  arc  of  90°  in  a  single 
day,  disappeared  in  the  constellation  Aquarius.  Immedi- 
ately upon  its  disappearance  a  second  comet  was  seen  in 
the  north,  which  followed  nearly  in  the  same  path.  The 
Chinese  accounts  are  not  sufficiently  exact  to  furnish 
independent  orbits  for  them,  but  both  comets  were 
undoubtedly  members  of  the  Leonid  stream.  The  comet 
1866  L  may  be  identical  with  one  of  them. 

The  AndroTncds  and  Biela's  Comet. — Mention  has  been  made  of  the 
star  shower  of  November  27,  1372.  The  periodical  comet  known 
.13  Biela's,  which  makes  three  revolutions  in  twenty  years,  passes 
very  near  the  earth's  orbit  at  a  longitude  corresponding  to 
November  27,  but  by  reason  of  its  direct  motion  the  node  has 
had  considerable  motion  in  longitude  as  the  result  of  perturbations, 
ileteors  having  the  same  orbits  as  Biela's  comet  would  have  a 
radiant  in  the  constellation  Andromeda,  that  is,  would  cross  the 
sky  in  lines  diverging  from  a  point  in  that  constellation.  They 
might,  however,  be  at  dates  after  or  even  before  November  27. 

Unusual  numbers  of  meteors  were  seen  December  7,  1793,  by 
■Brandos.  A  like  abundance  was  seen  Deeember  7,  1838  ;  and,  as 
they  had  beeu  expected,  and  radiation  was  now  looked  for,  they 
jwere  found  to  diverge  from  a  point  in  Andromeda.  Hence  they 
Save  been  called  Andromeds.  Since  1852  Biela's  comet  itself  has 
been  entirely  lost.  The  star  shower  of  November  27,  1872, 
frevioDsl^  referred  to,  had  a  radiant  in  Andromeda,  and  in  every 


way  appeared  as  though  its  meteors'  had  once  been  parts  of  Biela's 
comet.  A  sprinkle  three  d.ays  earlier,  on  the  night  of  November 
24,  had  the  same  radiant,  and  came  from  a  less  dense  outlying 
parallel  stream.  A  small  comet  was  seen  in  the  southern  sky  by 
Pogson  in  the  dircctiou  opposite  to  the  radiant  shortly  after  tlio 
shower.  Biela's  comet  had  been  found  in  1845-46  to  be  in  two 
parts,  which  at  its  next  return  to  perihelion  in  1852  had  separated 
to  eight  times  their  foraiiir  distance.  But  the  meteor  streams  of 
1872  could  hardly  have  been  separated  from  the  comet  so  recently, 
and  the  Pogson  comet  if  of  the  same  origin  must  also  have  left  tha 
parent  mass  at  an  earlier  date  than  1845.  No  ordinary  perturba- 
tions would  in  a  short  period  have  so  changed  the  orbits.  The 
parts  of  the  small  stream  traversed  by  the  earth,  December  1838  and 
December  1798,  were  far  from  the  comet,  and  these  fragments  muii 
have  been  thrown  off  much  earlier. 

The  fcrxids  and  the  Comet  1862  III.— There  is  a  third  epotli 
when  meteors  appear  in  unusual  numbers,  viz.,  the  9th  to  11th  ol 
August.  This  "sprinkle,"  as  it  may  be  called,  has  been  seen  cou 
stautly  at  the  time  named  for  nearly  fifty  yeai-s,  and  there  art; 
on  record  accounts  of  similar  appearances  in  the  earlier  years  befoie 
its  annual  character  had  been  discovered.  Some  observers  have 
thought  that  there  were  evidences  of  a  variation  having  a  long 
period,  but  the  proof  seems  as  yet  unsatisfactory,  and  the  display 
may  be  regarded  as  tolerably  constant  from  year  to  year.  On  every 
10th  of  August  we  may  confidently  expect  a  display  of  meteors  that 
shall  be  at  least  four  or  five  times  as  numerous  as  those  of  ordinary 
nigbts.  The  radiant  is  in  the  constellation  Perseus,  and  hence  the 
name  Perseids. 

The  comet  1862  III.,  which  has  a  period  of  more  than  a  hundred 
years,  passes  close  to  the  earth's  orbit,  nearly  cutting  it  at  the  place 
of  this  shower,  and  has  a  velocity  and  direction  corresponding  to 
this  radiant.  Hence  a  connexion  of  the  Perseid  meteors  with  this 
comet  is  presumed,  like  that  which  the  Leonids  and  Andromeda 
have  with  the  comet  1866  I.  and  Biela.  The  meteors  are  distri' 
buted  along  this  orbit  more  regularly  than  .along  either  of  the  othei 
two,  and  at  the  same  time  the  breadth  of  this  group  is  a  hundred 
times  greater  than  that  of  the  Leonids.  We  must  for  the  present 
regard  it  rather  as  a  meteor  ring,  the  meteoroids  being  scattered 
along  the  entire  conic  section  whicb  the  comet  describes.  This  ring 
has  an  inclination  of  113°  with  the  ecliptic. 

Meteors  of  April  20-^21 — Lyraids.—Ahont  the  20th  of  April  there 
have  been  several  qiute  biilli.int  star  showers,  the  earliest  on 
record  having  been  in  the  year  687  B.o.  On  that  day  meteors  have 
been  observed  which  radi.itcd  from  L^tti,  and  to  these  the  name 
Lyraids  has  been  given.  The  comet  1861  I.  p.nsses  neat  th^  earth's 
orbit  in  that  longitude,  and  any  meteors  having  such  a  connexion 
witb  it  as  is  proved  for  the  Leonids  with  comet  1SC6  I.  would  also 
radiate  from  Lyra. 

Again,  at  several  other  periods  of  the  year,  meteors  have  been 
seen  in  unusual  nimibers  which  seem  to  be  connected  with  certain 
comets.  • 

Meteor  Radiants. — We  have  thus  definite  proof  that  the 
earth  at  certain  epochs  plunges  through  meteor  streams," 
and  that  these  streams  travel  along  the  same  track  as  cer- 
tain comets.  The  question  is  at  once  asked— Do  not  the 
sporadic  meteors,  those  which  are  seen  on  any  and  all 
nights  of  the  year,  belong  to  similar  streams  1  An  immense 
amount  of  labour  has  been  spent  in  observing  the  paths  of 
meteors,  and  classifying  them,  so  as  to  detect  and  prove  the 
existence  of  radiant  points.  As  many  as  a  thousaud  sudi 
radiants  have  been  suggested  by  the  different  investigators. 
Some  of  these  are  duplicates,  some  wiD  prove  to  be  acci- 
dental coincidences ;  .but  a  goodly  number  may  reasonably 
be  expected  to  endure  the  test  of  future  observations 
Such  will  show  the  existence  of  meteor  streams,  and  per 
haps  will  be  comiectod  with  comets  that  are  now  known, 
or  that  may  hereafter  be  discovered. 

The  radiants  have  been  spoken  of  as  if  thej  were  points 
in  the  heavens.  This  is  so  nearly  true  as  to  justify  all  the 
conclusions  that  have  been  deduced  above.  But  in  fact  a 
radiant,  even  in  the  star  showers  in  which  it  is  most 
sharply  defined,  must  be  regarded  as  a  small  area.  The 
apparent  meteor  paths  when  produced  backward  do  not 
exactly  meet  in  a  point.  If.  they  be  treated  as  proceeding 
from  a  small  area,  it  does  not  appear  that  this  is  a  long 
narrow  one.  Hence  it  may  be  shown  that  the  paths  of 
the  meteors  in  the  air  are  not  exactly  parallel  either  to  a 
line  or  to  a  plane.  This  can  hardly  be  due  to  a  want  of 
parallelism  of  the  paths  before  the  meteoroids  meet  the 
earth,  but  is  rather  due  to  their  glancing  as  they  strike  the 


ri2. 


M  E  T  E  0  K 


air."  These  facts  add  not  a  little  to  the  diiBculties  to  be 
overcome  by  the  energetic  observers  and  investigators  who 
are  trying  to  deduce  order  out  of  an  apparent  chaos. 

Meteorites. — The  fragments  which  fall  immediately  after 
the  di.sappearance  of  large  meteor.s  have  been  carefully 
collected  and  preserved  in  mineralogical  miLscums,  and  have 
been  studied  with  special  interest.  The  largest  coUectious 
in  Europe  are  in  Vienna,  Paris,  London,  and  Berlin,  some 
of  these  representing  over  three  hundred  localities.  ,  In  the 
United  States  there  are  large  collections  at  New  Haven, 
Amherst,  and  Louisville. 

In  several  respects  these  fragments  differ  at  first  sight 
from  terrestrial  rocks. 

They  are  when  found  almost  always  covered  in  part  or 
entirely  with  a  very  thin  black  crust,  generally  less  than 
'^\f  of  an  inch  in  thickness.  This  crust  may  have  a  bright 
lustrous  svu-face,  or  it  may  be  of  a  lustreless  black.  It  has 
evidently  been  melted,  yet  so  rapidly  as  not  to  change  in 
the  least  the  parts  of  the  stone  inomediately  adjacent. 
Streaks  showing  the  flow  of  the  melted  matter  are  often 
seen  on  the  sm-face.  Upon  some  surfaces  are  what  appear 
to  be  deposits  of  the  melted  matter  that  has  flowed  off  from 
the  others.  Some  siu^aces  are  only  browned,  showing  an 
apimrently  recent  fracture,  and  some  cracks  are  found  in 
stones  which  are  not  yet  completely  broken  in  two. 

The  surfaces  very  often  have  small  cup-like  cavities, 
sometimes  several  inches  in  diameter,  sometimes  like  deep 
imprints  in  a  plastic  mass  made  by  the  ends  of  the  fingers, 
and  sometimes  stiU  smaller.  These  "  cupules "  have  not 
only  various  sizes  in  different  stones,  but  even  in  the  same 
stone  differ  considerably  from  one  surface  to  another.  They 
appear  in  meteorites  that  are  almost  exclusively  iron,  as 
^well  as  in  those  mainly  destitute  of  that  metal,  and  they 
may  be  regarded  as  a  characteristic  of  meteorites. 

The  meteorites  have  usually  metallic  iron  as  one  of  their 
component  parts.  Native  iron  is  very  rare  indeed  among 
ten-estrial  minerals,  and  its  presence  in  the  meteorites  is 
therefore  characteristic.  Sometimes  the  iron  forms  the 
principal  part  of  the  body,  giving  it  the  appearance  of  a 
mass  of  that  metal.  Sometimes  it  forms  only  a  connected 
framework  whicli  is  filled  in  with  mineral  matter..  Some- 
times particles  of  iron  are  scattered  through  a  stony  mass ; 
and  a  few  meteorites  are  said  to  be  destitute  of  metallic 
iron  altogether.  The  metallic  iron  is  always  accompanied 
with  nickel. 

The  stony  meteors  when  broken  or  cut  through  have 
usually  a  greyish  interior,  and  often  exhibit  a  peculiar 
globukr  structure.  From  the  small  romaded  grains  that 
give  it  this  appearance,  the  name  chondrite  (from  p^oiSpos, 
a  ball)  has  been  applied  to  this  kind  of  meteorite.  Some- 
times the  irregular  fragments  are  compacted  into  a  kind  of 
breccia. 

The  pieces  as  we  find  them  are  always  apparent  frag- 
ments of  some  larger  mass,  and  there  is  no  structui-al 
appearance  which  would  indicate  that  the  mass  might  not 
be  a  fragment  of  a  stdl  larger  one.  In  some  of  the  faUs 
fragments  picked  up  at  a  distance  of  miles  from  each  other 
fit  together  in  their  simply  browned  surfaces,  showing  that 
|they  were  true  fragments  recently  seimrated.  In  some 
cases  surfaces  of  the  stones  are  partially  polished.  In  some 
'a  cross  section  of  the  stone  exhibits  thin  black  lines  as 
though  the  melted  matter  of  the  surface  had  been  forced 
into  the  crevices  of  the  partially  broken  stone. 

The  stones  when  seen  to  fall,  if  at  once  picked  up,  are 
usually  too  warm  to  be  taken  in  the  hand.  But  cases  are 
on  record  in  which  the  stones  were  excessively  cold.  They 
sometimes,  on  striking  the  ground,  penetrate  into  it  from  1 
to  3  feet.  In  extreme  cases  largo  ones  have  struck  much 
deeper  into  soft  eartli.  Sometimes  they  are  broken  to 
pieces  by  the  impact  with  the  hard  earth. 


The  stones  are  usually  not  very  large.  Although  the 
light  of  the  meteor  is  such  as  sometimes  to  be  seen  over  a 
region  1000  miles  in  diameter,  and  the  detonation  gives 
phenomena  suggestive  of  an  earthquake  over  many  counties, 
yet  a  stone  exceeding  100  lb  is  quite  exceptional  in  our  col- 
lections. The  total  weight  socui-ed  at  any  fall  has  rarely  if 
ever  amounted  to  a  thousand  pounds.  The  average  weight 
of  nine  hundred  and  fifty  perfect  specimens  of  the  Pultusk 
ffll  in  the  Paris  museum  is  67  grammes,  or  less  than  2J 
oz.  One  of  the  Hessle  meteorites  in  the  Stockholm  museum 
weighs  less  than  1  grain.  Many  of  the  Emmet  countj'  mete- 
orites (May  10,  1879)  are  not  much  larger,  though  the 
largest  specimen  of  that  faU  weighs  nearly  500  lb. 

Meteors  traversing  the  Atmosphere. — We  can  now  get  a 
very  good  idea  of  the  history  of  that  part  of  a  meteorite's 
life  between  its  entrance  into  the  air  and  its  arrival  at  the 
earth.  It  is  entirely  invisible  untU  it  has  reached  that  height 
at  which  the  density  of  the  air  is  enough  to  create  con- 
siderable resistance.  Up  to  that  time  it  moves  almost 
exclusively  in  obedience  to  the  sun's  attraction.  Tha 
earth's  attraction  may  be  neglected,  especially  during  the 
passage  through  the  air.  Since  the  velocity  is  a  hundred 
times  that  of  soimd,  the  elasticity  of  the  air-  is  impotent  to 
remove  it  from  in  front  of  the  meteorite,  or  to  prevent  a 
high  degree  of  condensation.  Perhaps  the  air  is  liquefied 
immediately  in  front  of  the  stone.  Heat  is  developed  in  it 
enormously,  and  the  stone  being  pressed  closely  against  the 
hot  air  is  melted,  with  an  intense  light.  The  condensed  air 
charged  with  the  melted  matter  is  pushed  aside,  and  left 
behind  nearly  in  the  wake  of  the  meteor  to  form  the  train. 
The  brightness  of  the  train  rapidly  diminishes  behind  tha 
meteor,  so  that  the  light  of  the  meteor  and  the  train,  modi- 
fied by  irradiation,  make  the  whole  appear  to  a  distant  eye 
of  the  shape  of  a  pear  or  candle-flame.  The  stone  being  a 
poor  conductor  of  heat,  and  itself  rigid,  is  not  heated  in  tha 
interior  either  by  condensation  or  conduction,  and  '^a.y, 
reach  the  ground  with  its  surface  only  heated,  while  the 
interior  is  as  cold  as  it  had  been  out  in  space. 

If  the  stone  is  a  small  one  it  will  soon  be  used  up  by] 
this'  intense  file.  UntU  its  front  surface  is  rounded  by  the, 
flame,  the  irregular  resistances  may  cause  such  a  stone  toj 
glance.  But  if  the  stone  is  larger  it  \y\Q  lose  velocity  less 
rapidly.  As  it  comes  do'rni  into  the  i-egion  where  the  air. 
is  more  dense,  it  will  in  spite  of  loss  of  velocity  meet  greater 
resistance.  The  aii-  pressed  hard  against  it  burns  it  un-. 
equally,  forming  cupides  over  its  surface.  The  pressure 
of  the  air  craclcs  the  stone,  — perhaps  scaling  off  small  frag- 
ments, perhaps  breaking  it  into  pieces  of  more  uniform 
size.  In  the  latter  case  the  condensed  air  in  front  of  the 
meteor  being  suddenly  relieved  will  expand,  giving  the 
terrific  explosion  which  accompanies  such  breaking  up.  In 
either  case  a  fragment  may  have  still  velocity  enough  to 
burn  on  for  an  instant  in  its  new  path  and  then  come' 
invisibly  to  the  earth,  covered  with  a  coating,  the  greater, 
part  obtained  after  the  principal  explosion.  In  the  latter: 
part  of  the  coui'se  the  original  velocity  has  almost  all  dis-' 
appeared,  so  that  the  sound  travbls  faster  than  the  meteor.; 
The  air's  resistance  exceeds  the  earth's  attraction,  and  tha 
stones  strike  the  ground  only  with  the  force  of  a  spent 
cannon  ball.  It  is  no  doubt  in  violent  disruption  that  some 
of  the  fractures  are  made  in  such  a  way  as  to  give  the 
rubbed  and  polished  surfaces. 

Trains  of  Meteors. — The  smaller  meteors  generally  have 
no  perceptible  train.  Only  in  exceptional  cases  do  the 
trains  of  ordinary  shooting  stars  remain  visible  longer  than 
a  fraction  of  a  second.  An  unusual  number  of  the  Leonids 
have  a  bluish  train.  But  the  brighter  shooting  stars  and 
the  larger  meteors  sometimes  have  trains  that  endure  for 
minutes,  and  in  extreme  cases  for  an  hour.  Such  trains 
are  at  first  long  narrow  lines  of  light,  though  much  shorter 


METEOR 


113 


i 


llan  the  tracTi  of  the  meteor.  They  begin  at  once  to 
broaden  in  the  middle  and  to  fade  away  at  one  or  both 
ends.  Presently  they  become  curved,  sometimes  with  two 
or  three  convolutions.  The  white  cloud  floats  slowly  away 
among  the  stars,  coiling  up  more  and  more,  and  finally 
fades,  out  of  sight.  The  cause  of  all  this  seems  to  be  as 
follows.  The  heated  air -charged  with  the  debris  of  the 
meteor  is  by  the  meteor's  impact  driven  off  horizontally, 
causing  the  narrow  train  to  spread  jnto  a  doud.  The 
currents  of  air  differing  in  direction  at  different  altitudes 
twist  the  cloud  into  its  varied  fantastic  forms.  Attempts 
to  obtain  the  spectrum  of  t)ie  trains  have  been  made,  and 
sodium  and  magnesium  lines  have  been  thought  to  be 
detected  in  them.  The  observation,  however,  is  one  that 
is  not  easy  to  make  or  confirm.  The  trains  have  often 
colours  other  than  white,  and  in  the  case  of  the  brighter 
meteors  different  colours  are  seen  in  the  different  jjarts  of 
the  train.' 

Magnitude. — Some'COmputations  have  been  made  of  the 
size  of  the  shooting  star  meteoroids  from  the  mechanical 
equivalent  of  the  light  developed  by  their  disintegration. 
If  all  the  energy  of  the  meteor  is  changed  into  light,  then 
these 'computations  would  be  conclusive.  But  a  part  is 
spent  in  disintegrating  and  burning  the  stone,  a  i«rt 
in  heating  the  air,  and  a  part  in  giving  direct  motion  to 
portions  of  air.  '  A  computation  based  on  the  light  develo]icd 
gives  only  a  lower  limit  to  the  size. 

It  seems  probable  that  the  larger  meteors  might  be  safely 
regarded  as  weighing  on  entering  the  air  only  a  few 
hundreds  or  at  most  a  few  thousands  of  jKJunds.  The 
smallest  visible  shooting  stars  may  be  equal  in  size  to 
coarse  grains  of  sand,  and  still  be  large  enough  to  furnish 
all  the  light  exhiUted  by  them.  "  The  large.ft  shooting 
stars  furnish  matter  enough  to  fill  with  thin  trains 
cubic  miles  of  space,  but  this. need  not  require  a  very 
large  tnaas.. 

J/rfcoricir<mi.— There  have  boon  founil  at  various  times  on  the 
snrface  of  the  earth  m.-issea  of  metaliio  iron  combiued  with  niekel. 
These  have  been  so  like  the  irons  whii-h  have  been  known  to  fall, 
both'in  .their  structure  nnd  in  coniiK>sition,  that  they  have  been 
without  hesitatioH  el.tsscil  among  the  meteoric  irons.  A  maAs  of 
this 'character  weighing  1635  lb,  found  in  Texas,  is  in  the  Yale 
College .JtiiscuTO.  Tlie  Cliarcas  (llexiro)  iion  in  tlio  Paris  mu.vum 
IS  about  tlic  same  size.  A  ring-shnpcj  ma."ia  somewhat  aiiallrr, 
froD)  Tuczon,"  is  iiy  the  Ujiited  ■istntes  National  Museum  in 
Washington.^  ,A  still  larger  mass  is  in  the  British  lluscun),  and 
many*other_.large  masses  are  in  public  collections  or  private 
{loascssion. 

]f^idmaiinsthtUn\  Pi0ures. — If  in  any  of  the  meteoric  irons,  whether 
seen  to  fall  or  found  on  the  earth,  a  section  is  cut  and  ijolished  and 
then*',etchcd  with  acids,  >  aeries  -of  peculiar  lines  are  developed 
which  'are. known  as^Widniannstitten  figures.  The  lines  of  iron 
unattatked  by  the  acid  consist  of  an  irregular  grouping  of  parallel 
rulings'  often  lying  along  the  fares  of  a  regular  octahedron.  The 
'exhibition  "of  these  figures  and  the  combination  of  iron  with  nickel 
have  been  usually  considered  conclusive  evidence  of  the  meteoric 
prigin  of  any  iron  mass 

ificJul  Iron  of  Ovl/ak.-^ir>  1870  Baron  Nordenskiold,  in  his  voyage 
to  Grccnlan<1,  found  on  the  shore  of  the  island  of  Disco  fifteen  iron 
muses,  the  largest  of  which  weighed  20  tons,  all  in  an  area  of  half 
macre.^  ,In  the  ba&iltic  rocks  not  far  distant  other  iron  masses 
were  found  embedded  in  the  basalt  -The  presence  of  nickel  with 
the  5ron,\and  the  development  of  lines  like  the  Widmannstitteo 
figutw,  w^re  at  once  accepted  as  proof  of  their  meteoric  origin,  in 
spite  of  the  combination  with  basalt.  A  more  complete  examitta< 
tion  ha.Sf  however,  established  tlie  terrestrial  origin  of  these  irons, 
nr.d  gi][eli  reasons  to  hojie  for  new  discoveries  of  relations  existing 
between  th.r-eaith  and  the  meteors.  The  additional  discovery 
of  small  particloa  of  metallic  iron  in  dertain  otlier  igneous  rocks- 
fcoveajthat  the  union  of  the  Ovifak  irons  with  bnsalt  is  not  excep- 
tional. 

Chfmicai'  Constitiitiojt  «/  Hi  ircUoritcs.—tlo  neiW  element  has 
teen  found  in  the  meteorites.  Three  elements  most  widely  distri- 
buted and  most  important  among  the  meteorites — iron,  silicon,  and 
oxygen— are  also  most  abundant  in  our  earth.,  Daubrce  gives  the 
following  lists  .of  elements,  arranged  eomewh'at  jm  the  degree  of 
dieir' |import«nce,  in  meteorites  (Maskelvne  adds  lithium  and 
iuitiiaon{>^ — 

1&-7 


Iron. 

Titanium. 

Magnesium. 

Oxygon. 
Nickel. 
Cobalt. 

Tin. 

Copjier. 

^Aluminium. 

Potassium. 

Sodium. 

Chromium. 

Calcium. 

Arsenic 

Pbosphonia> 

Nitrogen.' 

Sulphur. 

Chlorine^ 

Carbon. 

Hydrogen. 

J^laiigane;^. 

Afiticrals  ifi  Mrtcoriies. — Among  the  minerals  in  the  meteorites 
there  are  several  which  occur  in  the  rocks  on  the  earth.  Amonj; 
thcw?  are  cited  by  Daubree  i^ridote,  pyroxene,  enstatite,  triclinlc 
felsmr,  chroniite,  maguetic  pyrites,  iron  oxide,  graphite,  and 
probably  water.  Several  minerals,  however,  are  found  which,  so 
far  as  now  known,  are  [fficuliar  to  the  meteorites  ; — metallic  nickel- 
iron,  phosphide  of  iron  and  nickel  (schreibersite),  sesquisulphide  of 
chromium  and  iron  (daubrt'elitc),  sulphide  of  calcium  (oldhamite), 
and  chloride  of  iron  (lawreiicite). 

Meteorites  of  different  falls  are  in  general  unlike  ;  but  tliere  are 
many  instances  in  which  the  stones  of  two  falls  are  so  similarly 
constituted  that  it  is  not  easy  to  distinguish  them. 

In  four  falls  (Alais,  Cold  Bokkeweld,  Kaba,  and  Orgeuil)  the 
stones  contain  little  or  no  iron.  Iri  thes6  carbon  appears  not  as 
gr(^,pIiito  but  in  uuiou  with  hydrogen  and  oxygen,  and  also  with 
soluble  and  even  deliquescent  saline  matters.  The  combination! 
are  aiich  as  to  suggest  the  existence  of  humiis  and  organic  remains. 
But  after  careful  search  nothing  of  this  kind  has  been  detected  in 
them.  In  general  the  meteorites  show  no  resemblance  in  their 
mechanical  or  mineralogical  structure  to  the  granitic  and  surface 
rocks  on  the  earth.  One  condition  was  certainly  necessary  in  their 
formation,  viz.,  the  absence  of  free  oxygen  and  of  enough  water  to 
oxidize  the  iron  and  other  elements.  Perhaps  it  is  to  this  fact  that 
aro  due  tho  resemblances  between  tliese  minerals  and  those  of  the 
dcop-soated  rocks  of  tho  earth  in  tbe  formation  of  which  free 
oxygen  and  water  were  also  not  present. 

Qays  in  ifetcoritrs. — The  meteoric  stones  .  and  irons  ^hen 
reduced  to  fine  particles  and  placed  in  the  vacuum  of  a  Sprengel  air^ 
pump  give  off  small  quantities  of  gases  which  may  be  reasonably  pre- 
sumed to  have  been  occluded  by  tiie  irons  at  some  time  in  their  earliei 
history.  Professor  Graham  found  hydrogen  in  meteoric  irons. 
Professor  Wright  has  shown  that  a  moderate  heat  drives  off  from 
tlie  stony  meteorites  carbonic  arid  and  carbonic  oxide  with  a 
small  amount  of  hydrogen.  Astljo  heat  increases  the  pronoi-tion  ot 
hydrogen  (and  even  some  nitrogen)  increases  till  at  a  full  rea  heat  tho 
hydrogengivenotfisby  far  the  largest  irortion.  From  the  irons  Mmilar 
gases  aro  given  off,  but  the  carbon  comjxjunds  are  not  so  large  a 
comjioncnt  as  hydroj^en.  The  sjtoctra  seen  in  tbe  tails  of  comets  arc 
not  strikingly  like  those  of  any  of  theso  ga-vs.  But  it  is  impossible 
to  reproduce  in  the  laboratory  tlie  conditions  under  which  the 
matter  of  comet's  tails  is  giving  off  its  light.  AVe  cannot  therefor* 
aay  that  these  gases  may  not  be  the  important  parts  of  the  coinctic 
coma  and  tails. 

Mrtcoroid  as  Part  of  a  Comrt. — Assuming  that  the  meteorite  and 
metcoroid  once  formed  an  integral  jwirt  of  a  comet,  not  a  little 
information  is  given  us  of  the  nature  of  this  mystcrions  body.' 
There  is  room  also  for  speculation. 

First,  the  tfomet  may  Iw  a  single  hard  body  which  comes  from 
the  cold  of  spnco  into  the  heat  of  the  sUn,  and  there  has  frag- 
ments broken  off,  just  as  a  stono  is  shattered  in  a  hot  fire.  The 
nucleus  of  some  of  the  comets  must  be  very  small  because  invisible 
in  the  telescope,  and  an  impulse  that  would  raise  a  stone  on  th< 
earth  only  a  k\v  inches  would  eend  it  permanently  away  from  su  .h 
a  comeL  The  exposure  of  new  surfaces  to  the  heat  of  the  suu  might 
give  occasion  for  tho  development  of  gas  to  form  the  comet's  tail. 

Or,  secondly,  the  comet  may  be  a  tolerably  compact  aggregation  o( 
small  boilics  not  in  contact,  each  one  being  of  the  size  of  a 
metcoroid,  and  kept  near  to  the  rest,  not  by  cohesion,  but  by  their 
combined  attraction.  The  total  mass  being  small,  some  membei^ 
of  the  gi'oup  near  the  comet's  perihelion  passage  can  be  by  the  sun's 
perturbing  action  thrown  out  into  orbits  quite  icideiiendent  of  the 
comet  itself,  and  yet  such  as  relative  to  tlie  sun  shall  resemble  that 
of  the  main  group.  Perturbations  resembling  tidal  waves  mi-'ht  1>« 
preparing  other  members  to  be  cast  off  at  the  next  perihelion 
passage  of  the  comet. 

In  either  case,  If  we  suppose,  as  seems  probable,  fliat  the  couiot 
came  from  outside  the  solar  system,  and  that  a  disturbance  by  a 
large  planet  changed  the  original  hyperbolic  orbit  into  an  ellipse, 
the  colnet  must  have  passed  that  planet  as  a  very  compact  group,  i( 
not  in  rf  single  mass,  else  the  disturbance  that  changi-d  the  orbit 
would  have  scattered  the  group  beyond  the  power  of  a  future  recog- 
nition of  the  common  origin  of  the  fragments. 

}totcoroids  as  Fuel  of  the  5»ft.— The  idea  has  been  held  by 
distinguished  physicists  that  the  meteoroids  in  fallijig  into  tho 
sun  f\imish  by  their  concussion  a  supply  for  the  heat  which  the 
sun  is  constantly  sending  off  into  space, — that  they  are  iix  fact  the 
fuel  of  the  sun. ' .  Such  a  view,  however,  receives  but  little  support 
from  facts  which  we  know  about  inete<H"s.  The  meteoroids  of  the 
August  .and  .two  -Koveniber  -  Deiiods   are    evidently    permanent 


114 


M  E  T  —  MET 


roember-i  of  the  sol.ir  syitoni  moving  in  closed  orbits.  The  aanie  is 
by  inference  hifjhiy  probable  for  most  of  the  other  meteoroids,  and 
may  be  true  of  all  of  them.  Permanent  members  of  the  solar 
system,  however,  if  tht-y  ever  fall  into  the  sun,  do  so  only  after  along 
period  of  perturbation.  If  any  meteoroids  come  from  stellar  spaces 
and  have  any  uniform  or  random  distribution  of  velocities  or  direc- 
tions, only  a  very  small  portion  of  these  would  hit  the  sun's  surface. 
The  far  greater  portion  would  go  on  in  hyperbolic  orbits.  But 
the  earth  receives  the  impact  of  its  portion  of  these  foreign 
meteoroids,  both  in  their  inward  and  outward  course,  and  in 
addition  encountei-s  a  full  rhare  of  the  permanent  members  of  the 
solar  system,  of  which  the  sim  receives  very  few  or  none.  It  is 
not  hard  to  sliow  that  a  supply  of  meteoroids  to  the  sun  sufficient 
to  make  good  its  daily  loss  of  heat  would  require  that  the  twenty 
million  meteoroids  which  the  earth  daily  encounters,  even  if  aU  were 
from  stellar  space,  should  have  an  average  weight  of  hundreds  of 
tons.  The  facts  do  not  warrant  the  admission  of  any  such  magni- 
tude even  for  the  larL^c  meteors,  much  less  for  the  ordinai-y  and 
small  shooting  stars.  Whatever  be  the  source  of  the  sun's  heat, 
all  the  meteoroids  of  which  we  know  anything  are  totally  inade- 
quate to  supply  the  waste. 

The  literature  of  meteors  and  meteoroids  is  very  muclt  scattered. 
It  is  mainly  contained  in  the  scientific  journals  and  in  transac- 
tions of  learned  societies.  The  series  of'  -valuable  Reports  of  the 
Lnminous  Meteor,  Committee  of  the  British  Association  contains 
not  only  the  record  of  an  immense  amount  of  original  observations. 
but  also  year  by  year  a  digest  of  most  of  the  important  memoirs. 

Meteoric  science  is  a  structure  built  stone  by  stone  by  many 
builders.  In  this  article  no  attempt  has  been  made  to  assign  to 
each  builder  the  credit  for  his  contribution.  (H.  A.  N.) 

METEORA,  a  remarkable  group  of  rock-built  monas- 
teries in  Thessaly,  in  the  northern  side  of  the  valley  of  the 
Peneus,  not  quite  i^O  miles  north-east  of  Trii.'cala,  and  in 
the  immediate  vicinity  of  the  village  of  Kalabaka,  Stagus, 
or  Stagoi  (the  ancient  /Eginium).  From  the  Cambunian 
chain  two  vast  masse-s  of  rock  are  thrust  southward  into 
the  plain,  surmounted  by  a  number  of  huge  isolated  columns 


from  8.5  to  300  feet  high,  '"  aoa\i;  like  gigantic  tusks,  some 
like  sugit-loaves,  and  some  like  vast  stalagmites,"  but  all 
consisting  of  iron-grey  or  reddish-brown  conglomerate  of 
gnei.ss,  mica-slate,  syenite,  and  greenstone.  On  the  summit 
of  these  rocky  pinnacles — accessible  only  by  aid  of  rope 
and  basket  let  down  from  the  top,  or  iu  some  cases  by  a 
series  of  almost  perpendicular  ladders  climbing  the  cliff  to 
the  mouth  of  a  tunnel — stand  the  monasteries  of  Meteora 
(to  McTc'tupa).  At  one  time  they  were  twenty-four  in 
number;  but  Holland  (1812)  and  Hughes  (1814)  found 
them  reduced  to  ten;  at  Ciu-zon's  visit  (18.34)  there  were 
only  Beven  ;  and  in  1853  not  more  than  four  c^f  these  were 
inhabited  by  more  than  two  or  three  monks.  Meteora  par 
excellence  is  the  largest  and  perhaps  the  most  ancient.  The 
present  building  was  erected,  according  to  Leake's  reading 
of  the  local  inscription,  in  1388  (Bjornstuhl,  the  Swedish 
traveller,  had  given  1371),  and  the  church  is  one  of  the 
large:>t  and  handsomest  in  Greece.  St  Barlaam's  and 
St  Stephen's  (the  latter  founded  by  the  emperor  John 
Cantacuzene)  are  next  in  importance.  The  decorations  of 
the  churches  contain  a  large  amount  of  material  /or  the 
history  of  Byzantine  art,  not  much  inferior  in  value  to  the 
similar  treasures  at  Athos. 

Unless  the  identification  with  the  Ithome  of  Homer  be  a  sound 
one,  there  is  no  direct  mention  of  the  rocks  of  Meteora  in  ancieut 
literature,  and  Professor  Kriegk  suggests  that  this  may  simply  b« 
due  to  the  fact  that  they  had  not  then  taken  on  their  present  re- 
markable form.  .5i!ginium,  however,  is  described  by  Livy  as  a 
strong  place,  -and  is  frequently  mentioned  during  the  Roman  wars; 
and  Stagus  appears  from  time  to  time  in  Byzantine  WTiters. 

See  Holland,  Travels  in  the  Ionian  Ules,  &e.,  1815;  Huplies.  Travels  in  Qreett 
and  Albania,  1830 ;  Curzon,  risiV  (o  MMaHeries  in  Itie  Leranl.  1819 ;  Leake,  *»• 
l.tei-n  Oreeee;  Professor  Krieek  In  Zeittehr.  f.  allg.  Erdk.,  Berlin,  1848;  T««» 
Jiesearc/tes  in  {lie  Jii'jti!an<ts  of  Tarktf,  18()». 


METEOROLOGY 


METEOROLOGY,  in  its  original  and  etymological 
scn.se,  iilcluded  within  its  scope  all  apijearances  of 
the  sky,  astronomical  as  well  as  atmospherical,  but  the  tenn 
is  now  re.'itricted  to  the  de.scription  and  e.^iplanation  of  the 
phenomena  of  the  atmosph>.ie  which  may  be  conveniently 
grouped  under  weather  and  climate,  'These  phenomena 
relate  to  the  action  of  the  forces  on  which  the  variations 
of  pressure,  temperature,  humidity,  and  electricity  of  the 
atmos[)here  depend,  but  in  an  especial  sense  to  the  aerial 
movements  which  necessarily  result  from  these  variations. 

In  the  more  exact  develojnnent  of  meteorology,  the 
scientific  investigation  of  climate  long  preceded  that  of 
weather.  Humboldt's  work  on  Isothermal  Lines,  published 
in  1817,  mjust  be  regarded  as  the  fli-st  great  contribution 
to  meteorological  science.  The  importance  of  this  inquirv 
into  the  elistribution  of  terrestrial  temperature  if  is 
Bcarcely  possible  to  overestimate,  for,  though  the  isothei-mals 
were  neces.sarily  to  a  considerable  extent  hypothetical, 
there  cannot  be  a  doubt  that  they  presented  a  first  sketch 
of  the  principal  climates  of  the  globe.  Dove  continued 
and  extended  the  investigation,  and  in  his  great  work  Oii 
tlie  Diflril/uiion  (if  Henl  on  the  Svrface  of  the  Olohe,  ]iub- 
lished  in  1852,  gave  charts  showing  the  mean  temperature 
cf  the  world  for  each  month  and  for  the  year,  together  witli 
charts  of  abnormal  temperatiu-e.  To  this,  more  than  to 
any  other  work,  belongs  the  merit  of  having  popularized 
the  science  of  meteorology  in  the  best  sense,  by  enlisting  in 
its  service  troops  of  observers  in  all  parts  of  the  civilized 
world. 

In  1868  another  series  of  important  charts  were  pub- 
lished representing  by  isobaric  lines  the  distribution  of  the 
mass  of  the  earth's  atmosphere,  and  by  arrows  the  prevail- 
ing winds  over  the  globe  for  thu  months  and  the  year. 
By  these  charts  the  muv<i!a;Hts  of  the  atmosphere  and  the 


immediate  causes  of  these  movements  were  for  the  first 
time  approximately  stated,  and  some  knowledge  was 
thereby  attained  of  some  of  the  more  diiEcult  problems  of 
meteorology.  It  was  shown  that  the  prevailing  winds  are 
the  simple  result  of  the  relative  distribution  of  the  mass 
of  the  earth's  atmosphere,  in  other  words,  of  the  relative 
distribution  of  its  pressure,  the  direction  and  force  of  the 
prevailing  winds  being  simply  the  flow  of  the  air  from  a 
region  of  higher  towards  a  region  of  lower  pressure,  or  from 
where  there  is  a  surplus  to  where  there  is  a  deficiency  of 
air.  It  is  on  this  broad  and  vital  princijile  that  meteorology 
rests,  which  is  found  to  be  of  universal  application 
throughout  the  science,  in  explanation,  not  onlj'  of  prevail- 
ing winds,  but  of  all  winds,  and  of  weather  and  weather 
changes  generally.  One  of  the  more  important  uses  of  the 
principle  is  in  its  furnishing  the  key  to  the  climates  of  the 
different  regions  of  the  earth ;  for  climate  is  practically 
determined  by  the  temperatiu'e  and  moisture  of  the  ■  air, 
and  these  in  their  turn  are  dependent  on  the  prevailing 
winds,  which  are  charged  with  the  temperature  and 
moisture  of  the  regions  they  have  traversed.  The  isobaric 
charts  show  further  that  the  distribution  of  the  mass  of 
the  earth's  atmosphere  depends  on  the  geographical  distri- 
T'Ution  of  land  and  water  in  their  relations  to  the  sun's 
heat  and  to  radiation  towards  the  regions  of  space  in 
different  seasons. 

In  1S82  Looniis  published  a  map  showing  the  mean 
rainfall  of  the  globe.  This  map  and  others  that  have  been 
constructed  for  separate  countries  show  conclusively  that 
the  rainfall  of  any  region  is  determined  by  thf  jirevailing 
winds  considered  in  relation  to  regions  from  which  they 
have  come,  and  the  physical  configuration  and  tomiieraturo 
of  the  jiart  of  the  earth's  surface  over  which  they  blow. 
Tii3  maximum  rainfall  is   jirecipitated   bv  winds   which. 


aiUBNAl.   rHENOllENA.] 

b.'iving  traversed  a  large  breadth  oi  ocean,  come  up  against 
and  blow  over  a  mountainous  ridge  lying  across  tlieir  path, 
and  the  amount  deposited  is  still  further  increased  if  the 
winds  pass  at  the  same  time  through  regions  the  temper- 
ature of  which  constantly  becomes  colder.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  rainfall  is  unusually  small,  or  nil,  when  the  pre- 
vailin"  winds  have  not  previously  traversed  some  extent 
of  ocean,  but  have  crossed  a  mountain  ridge  and  advance 
at  the  same  time  into  lower  latitudes,  or  regions  the 
temperature  of  which  is  markedly  higher. 

While  the  observational  data  for  the  determination  of 
the  geographical  distribution  of  the  prime  elements  of 
climate,  viz.,  the  pressure,  temperature,  moisture,  and 
movements  of  the  atmosphere  and  the  rainfall  were  being 
slowly  but  surely  collected,  the  great  importance  of  the 
.study  of  weather  came  gradually  to  be  recognized. 
Additional  impetus  was  given  to  this  branch  of  study  from 
its  intimate  bearings  on  the  eminently  practical  question 
of  storm  warnings.  Synchronous  weather  maps,  showing 
the  weather  over  a  considerable  portion  of  the  earth's 
surface,  were  constructed,  and  some  advance  was  made  in 
tracing  the.  progi'ess  of  storms  from  day  to  day.  Unques- 
tionably one  of  the  first  problems  of  meteorology  is  to 
ascertain  the  course  storms  u.sually  follow  and  the  causes 
by  which  that  course  is  determined,  so  as  to  deduce  from 
the  meteorological  phenomena  observed,  not  only  the 
certain  approach  of  a  storm,  but  also  the  particular  course 
that  storm  will  take.  The  method  of  practically  conduct- 
ing this  large  inquiry  in  the  most  effective  manner  was 
devised  by  the  genius  of  Leverrier,  and  begun  to  be  carried 
out  in  18.58  by  the  daily  publication  of  the  BvUelin  Inter- 
national, to  which  a  weatlier  map  was  added  in  September 
1863.  This  m'^\i  showed  graphically  for  the  morning 
of  the  day  of  publication  the  atmospheric  pres.sure,  and 
the  direction  and  force  of  the  wind,  together  \nth  tables 
of  temperature,  rainfall,  cloud,  and  sea  disturbance  from  a 
large  number  of  places  in  all  parts  of  Europe.  From  such 
■weather  maps  forecasts  of  storms  are  framed  and  suitable 
Tvarnings  issued ;  but  above  all  a  body  of  information  in  a 
veiy  handy  form  is  being  collected,  the  careful  study  and 
discussion  of  which  is  slowly  but  gradually  leading  to  the 
issue  of  more  exact  and  satisfactory  forecasts  of  weather, 
and  to  a  juster  kno\iledge  of  these  great  atmospheric  move- 
ments which  form  the  groundwork  of  the  science. 

The  most  cursory  glance  is  sufficient  to  show  that  the 
ever-changing  physical  phenomena  with  which  it  is  the 
business  of  meteorology  to  deal  are  all  referable  to  the 
action  of  the  sun,  it  being  evident  that  if  the  sun  were 
blotted  out  from  the  sky  a  cold  lifeless  uniformity  would 
rapidly  take  possession  of  the  whole  surface  of  the  globe. 
Meteorological  phenomena  naturally  group  themselves  into 
two  great  classes, — those  dependent  on  the  revolution  of 
the  earth  on  its  axis,  and  those  dependent  on  its  revolution 
round  the  sun  taken  in  connexion  with  the  inclination  of 
its  axi.s  to  the  plane  of  its  orbit.  The  science  thus  divides 
itself  into  two  great  divisions,  the  first  comprising  dinmal 
phenomena  and  the  second  annual  phenome 

DiUKXAL  Mabch  of  Phexomexa. 
Temperature. — Of  the  daily  changes  which  take  place 
in  the  atmosphere,  the  first  place  must  be  assigned  to  those 
Ti'hich  relate  to  temperature,  seeing  that  on  these  all  other 
changes  are  either  directly  or  indirectly  dependent.  Obser- 
vations of  the  temperature  of  the  air  are  therefore  of  the 
first  importance  in  meteorolog)'.  A  perfectly  accurate 
i'ljservation  of  the  temperature  of  the  air  is  unquestionably 
laiong  the  most  difficult  to  make  of  aU  physical  observations, 
the  difficulty  being  to  eliminate  the  effects  of  radiation  of 
suAounding  objects.  The  nearest  approach  yet  made  to 
the  solution  of  this  important  problem  of  physical  inquiry 


M  E  T  E  0  Ft  0  L  0  a  Y 


115 


was  made  by  Dr  Joule  in  a  communication  to  the 
Philosophical  Society  of  Manchester  (November  26,  1867, 
Proc,  vol  vii.  p.  35).  But  the  manipulative  skiU  and 
time  demanded  by  the  method  there  detailed  render  it  quite 
unsuitable  for  general  adoption  anyivhero  in  collecting  the 
observational  data  required  in  the  determination  of  this 
important  element  of  climate.  It  is  therefore  necessary  to 
fall  on  some  method  which,  while  it  gives  results  that  can 
only  be  regarded  as  approximate,  secures  the  essential 
element  of  uniformity  among  the  observ-ations. 

Fig.  1  represents  Stevenson's  louvre-bearded  box  for  tfie  ther- 
mometers, which  is  now  very  widely  used  for  temperature  observa- 
tions. The  box  is  made  of  wood,  and  loovrod  all  round  so  as  to 
protect  the  thermometers  inside  from  radiation,  and  at  the  same  time 
secure  as  free  a  circulation  of  air  as  is  consistent  with  a  satisfactory 
protection  from  radiation.  The  box  is  painted  white,  both  insid.^ 
and  outside,  and  screwed  to  four  stout  wooden  posts,  also  painter! 
white,  nrmly  fixed  in  the  ground.  TIio  posts  are  of  such  a  length 
that  when  the  thennometcrs  are  hung  in  position  the  bulbs  of  the 
minimum  thermometer  and  hygrometer  are  exactly  at  the  same 
height  of  4  feet  above  the  ground,  the  maximum  thermometer  being 


Fio.  1. — Thermometer 
hung  immediately  above  the  minimum  thermometer.  Thij  ther- 
mometer box  is  placed  over  a  plot  of  grass,  and  in  a  free  ojien  spies 
to  which  the  sunis  rays  have  free  access  during  as  much  of  the  day 
as  surrounding  conditions  admit  of.  It  will  be  observed  that  tlie 
thermometers  ai-e  suspended  on  cross-laths  in  the  centre  of  the  box 
and  face  the  door,  which  should  always  open  to  the  north.  It  k 
not  possible  to  overestimate  the  importance  of  seeing  thatuniformity 
of  height  above  ground  and  method  of  protecting  the  thermometers 
is  secured,  since  in  no  other  way  is  it  possible  to  obtain  results  from 
different  places  which  shall  be  comparable  with  each  other  and  thus 
supply  satisfactory  materials  for  the  investi;^ation  and  development 
of  comparative  climatology. 

A  desired  uiuformity  is  yet  far  from  being  attained 
among  the  meteorological  systems  of  different  countries. 
Thus  in  Eussia  the  box  for  the  protection  of  the  thermo- 
meters is  made  of  zinc,  on  the  supposition  that  such  a  box 
follows  more  closely  the  changes  of  temperature  of  the  air 
than  a  box  of  wood.  Owing  to  these  international  diversi- 
ties of  observation,  it  is  extremely  desirable  that  sfep.^ 
were  taken  to  ascertain,  by  Joule's  method  of  observing, 
the  approximate  errors  peculiar  to  each  sort  of  thermometer 
box,  in  order  that  the  temperatures  of  different  countries 
may  be  compared  together  in  a  more  satisfactory  manner 
than  has  yet  been  possible. 

Interchanges  of  temperature  among  bodies  take  place  by 
conduction,  convection,  and  radiation.  In  meteorology 
the  most  important  illustrations  of  conduction  are  the  pro- 
pagation do\™ wards  through  the  earth's  strata  of  the 
changes  of  the  temperature  of  the  .surface  as  it  is  heated 
dtiring  the  day  and  cooled  diu-ing  the  night,  and  the  pro- 
pagation of  the  same  changes  of  temperature  through  the 
lowest  stratum  of  the  air  which  rests  on  the  surface.  Since 
sand  and  light  loose  soils  are  much  worse  conduotors  of 
heat  than  clay  and  deuse  soils,  it  follows  that  loose  soils 


116 


METEOROLOGY 


[didewl 


and  tracts  of  sand  are  subject  during  the.  day  to  higher 
temperature  and  during  the  night  to  lower  temperature  near 
the  surface  than  dense  soils,  and  that  frosts  and  extreme 
temperatures  do  not  penetrate  so  far  into  loose  as  into 
dense  soils..  It  is  on  these  differences  that  some  of  the 
more  striking  features  of  climates  depend.  As  snow  is  one 
of  the  worst  conductors  of  heat,  owing  to  the  quantity  of  air 
tilling  the  interstices  among  the  ice  crystaU,  it  protects  the 
soil  it  covers  by  setting  a  limit  to  the  dejjth  to  which  the 
(severe  frosts  of  the  surface  penetrate,  and  by  arresting  the 
escape  of  the  heat  of  the  soil  ujjwards  to  the  air. 

The  communication  of  heat  from  one  part  of  the  earth 
to  another  by  convection  is  seen  on  a  grand  scale  in  the 
■winds  and  in  the  ciu-rents  of  the  ocean.  It  is  eeeu  also  in 
the  ascending  and  descending  currents  of  the  atmosphere 
everywhere,  which  have  their  origin  in  the  daily  and 
unequal  changes  of  temperature  to  which  the  surface  of  the 
eartJi  is  subject.  The  direct  and  beneficial  effect  which 
results  from  atmospheric  and  oceanic  circulation  is  a  jnore 
equable  distribution  of  temperature  over  the  globe,  thus 
moderating  the  rigours  of  the  polar  regions  arid  the  heat 
of  the  tropics. 

An  interchange  of  heat  is  constantly  going  on  among 
bodies  exposed  to  each  other,  whatever  be  their  tempcra- 
tiu-e.  This  mode  by  which  heat  is  communicated  from 
one  body  to  another  is  called  radiation.  Radiant  heat 
proceeds  in  straight  lines,  diverging  in  all  directions  from 
the  source,  is  only  in  a  limited  degree  influenced  by  the 
air  through  which  it  passes,  and  is  not  diverted  from  the 
straight  course  by  the  wind.  The  intensity  is  proportional 
to  the  temperature  of  the  source,  and  is  greater  according 
to  the  degree  of  incUnation  of  the  surface  on  which  the 
rays  fall. 

If  then  a  body  be  placed  in  the  presence  of  other  bodies, 
some  colder  and  some  warmer  than  itself,  it  will  from  this 
mutual  interchange  of  temj>erature  receive  more  heat  from 
the  warmer  bodies  than  it  radiates  tb  them,  and  conse- 
quently becomes  warmer ;  but  it  will  receive  less  heat  from 
the  colder  bodies  than  it  radiates  to  .  them,  and  its 
temperature  consequently  falls.  This  is  precisely  the 
condition  in  which  the  earth  is  placed  in  space.  When  a 
part  of  the  surface  is  turned  towards  the  sun,  that  part  of 
the  surface  receives  more  heat  than  is  radiated  from  it ; 
and  the  temperature  consequently  rises  most  in  that  region 
which  for  the  time  is  perpendicular  to  the  sun's  rays,  and 
least  round  the  annulus  where  the  inclination  of  the  surface 
is  greatest.  On  the  other  hand,  since  the  hemisphere 
turned  from  the  sun  radiates  more  heat  than  it  receives 
from  the  cold  regions  of  space,  the  temperature  there  falls. 
Owing  to  the  essentially  distinct  conditions  under  which 
the  earth  is  placed  with  respect  to  radiation,  the  subject 
falls  naturally  to  be  divided  into  two  heads,  solar  radiation 
and  terrestrial  radiation. 

Solar  Radiation. — Of  the  sun's  rays  which  arrive  at  the 
earth's  surface,  those  which  fall  on  tlie  land  and  soUd 
bodies  generally  are  wholly  absorbed  by  the  thin  surface 
layer  exposed  to  the  heating  rays,  the  temperature  of 
which  consequently  rises.  Whilst  the  temperature  of  the 
surface  increases,  a  wave  of  heat  is  propagated  downw:ards 
through  the  soil.  The  intensity  of  the  daily  wave  of 
temperature  rapidly  lessens  with  the  depth  at  a  rate 
depending  on  the  conductivity  of  the  soil,  until  at  about  4 
feet  below  the  surface  it  ceases  to  be  measurable.  Part  of 
the  heat  of  the  surface  layer  is  conveyed  upwards  through 
the  air  by  the  convection  currents  which  have  their  origin 
in  the  heating  of  the  lowennost  stratum  of  air  in  direct 
contact  with  the  heated  surface  of  the  land. 

Altogether  different  is  the  influence  of  the  sun's  rays  on 
■water.  In  this  case  the  sun's  heat  is  not  all,  indeed  vej-y 
l.\t  from  all,  arrested  at  the  sui  face,  but  penetrates  to  a 


considerable  depth.  The^  depth  to  which  the  influence  of 
the  sun  is  felt  has  been  shown  by  the  observations  made 
during  the  cruise  of  the  "Challenger"  to  be,  roughly 
speaking,  about  500  feet  below  the  surface  of  the  sea. 
The  rate  at  which,  in  perfectly  clear  water,  this  heat  \f, 
distributed  at  different  depths  is  a  problem  that  has  not 
yet  been  worked  out.  Since  water  is  a  bad  conductor,  the 
heat  thus  distributed  does  not,  as  takes  place  ■with  resjiect 
to  land,  penetrate  to  still  lower  depths  by  conduction,  but 
only  ))y  different  densities  prevailing  at  the  same  depth.?, 
whether  these  different  densities  be  due  to  different 
temijcratures  or  different  degrees  of  salinity.  Thus  one 
of  the  more  important  distinctions  between  land  and 
water  surfaces  in  their  bearings  on  climate  is  that  nearly 
all  the  sun's  heat  falling  on  land  is  arrested  on  the  surface, 
whereas  on  water  it  is  at  once  diffused  downwards  to  a 
great  depth.  In  examining  temperatures  of  the  sea  taken 
at  different  depths,  it  is  surprising  to  note  the  rapidity 
with  which  changes  of  temperature  are  felt  at  considerable 
depths,  especially  in  cases  when  the  temperature  of  the  air 
rises  rapidly,  accompanied  wth  strong  sunshine. 

In  shallow  water  the  sun's  heat  raises  the  temperature 
much  higher  than  that  of  deep  water,  this  being  obvious 
from  the  consideration  that  nearly  the  whole  of  the  sun's 
heat  which  falls  on  the  surface  is  utilized  in  raising  the 
temperature  of  the  shallow  layer  of  water ;  in  other 
words,  it  is,  so  to  speak,  concentrated  through  a  smal) 
depth  of  water  instead  of  being  diffused  through  a  gi-eat 
depth. 

Surface  Temperature  of  the  Sea. — The  importance  of  a 
knowledge  of  this  datum  of  meteorology  will  be  at  once 
recognized  when  it  is  kept  in  view  that  three-fourths  of 
the  earth's  surface  is  water,  that  the  temperature  of  thi- 
air  resting  on  this  surface  is  in  close  relation  to  the 
temperature  of  the  surface,  and  that  the  latter  has,  through 
the  intervention  of  the  n-inds,  direct  and  important 
bearings  on  the  temperature  of  the  air  over  large  portions 
of  the  land  surfaces  of  the  globe.  During  the  years 
1859-63  Captain  Thomas,  while  engaged  on  the  survey  of 
the  islands  on  the  north-west  of  Scotland,  made  observa- 
tions of  the  temperature  of  the  surface  of  the  sea  every 
hour  of  the  day  at  all  seasons,  and  with  sufhcient 
frequency  for  the  determination  of  the  diurnal  range  of 
the  temperature  of  the  surface.  The  daily  minimum, 
0°"17  below  the  mean,  occurred  near  6  a.m.;  the  mean  was 
reached  about  11  a.m.,  the  maximum,  0°'13  above  the 
mean,  between  3  and  4  p.m.,  and  the  mean  again  .shortly 
before  2  a.m.  Thus  the  dail}'  oscillation  of  the  temperature 
of  the  surface  of  the  sea  amounted  on  the  north-west  of 
Scotland  only  to  0°'3.  In  lower  latitudes  the  amount  of 
the  daily  fluctuation  is  somewhat  larger,  but  everj'where  it 
is  comparatively  small,  if  care  be  taken  to  make  the 
observations  jiroperly,  or  at  a  distance  from  land,  where 
the  influence  of  the  heated  or  cooled  land  is  not  allowed 
to  vitiate  the  results. 

Durmg  the  voyage  of  the  "Challenger"  a  complete 
system  of  meteorological  observations,  including  the  tem- 
perature of  the  surface  of  the  sea,  was  made  every  two 
hours  as  part  of  the  scientific  work  of  the  cruise.  These 
are  now  being  discussed,  and  the  writer  of  this  article  is, 
by  permission  of  the  Lords  Commissioners  of  H.if. 
Treasury,  allowed  to  use  such  of  the  results  as  have  been 
already  arrived  at. 

The  diurnal  inarch  of  the  teniperature  of  the  surface  of 
the  North  Atlantic  has  boon  determined  from  observations 
made  on  one  hundred  and  twenty-six  days  from  ilarch  to 
August  1873  and  in  April  and  May  1876,  the  mean 
latitude  of  all  the  ])oints  of  oKservation  being  nearly  30  N., 
and  the  longitude  42'  W.  The  foUomng  variations  from 
the  mean  .show  the  ])hases  of  this  diurnal  oscillation  : — 


TEMPERATHKE.] 


2  a.m. -0-24 
4  „  -0-33 
6  „  -0-29 
8  „  -012 


METEOROLOGY 


117 


10  A.M. 
Noon 
2  P.M. 


6  P.M.     0-26 

8    „        002 

10    „     -019 

Midnight -0-35 


Thus  in  mid  Atlantic,  about  30°  N.  Up.,  where  the  sun's 
heat  is  strong,  and  at  the  time  of  the  year  when  the  sun  is 
north  of  the  equator,  the  diurnal  fluctuation  of  the  tempera- 
ture of  the  surface  is  only  0°'80.  It  is  highly  probable 
that  nowhere  over  the  ocean  does  the  mean  daily  fluctuation 
of  the  temperature  of  the  surface  quite  amount  to  a  degree. 
This  small  daily  fluctuation  is  a  prime  factor  in  meteorology, 
particularly  in  discussions  relating  to  atmospheric  pressure 
and  winds. 

Temperature  of  Air  over  the  Open  Sea. — The  following 
shows  the  daily  march  of  the  temperature  of  the  air  over 
the  North  Atlantic  on  a  mean  of  the  same  one  hundred 
and  twenty-six  days  for  which  the  temperature  of  the  sea 
has  been  given: — 


1-13 

10  A.M. 

078 

8  p.m.      0  73 

1-40 

Noon 

1-45 

8    „     -0-30 

1-41 

2  P.M. 

1-80 

10    „     -0-80 

0  :!1 

i    » 

1-58 

Midnight -1  02 

The  amplitude  of  the  daily  fluctuation  of  the  air  is  thus 
3' 21,  or  nearly  four  times  greater  than  that  of  the 
sea  over  which  it  lies.  Daring  the  same  months  the 
"  Challenger "  was  lying  near  land  on  seventy-sbc  days. 
The  observations  made  on  these  days  show  a  greater  daily 
range  of  temperature  of  the  air  than  occurred  out  in  the 
open  sea.  The  minimum,  -  2°05,  occurred  at  4  A.M.,  and 
the  maximum,  2°33,  at  noon,  thus  giving  a  daily  range  of 
4°'38.  The  occurrence  of  the  maximum  so  early  as  noon  is 
doubtless  occasioned  by  the  greater  strength  of  the  sea 
breeze  after  this  hour,  this  maintaining  a  lower  tempera- 
tare.  Part  of  the  increased  range  of  the  temperature  of 
the  air  as  compared  with  that  of  the  sea  was  no  doubt 
due  to  the  higher  temperature  during  the  day  and  the 
lower  during  the  night  on  the  deck  of  the  "  Challenger  "  as 
compared  with  that  of  the  air.  But,  after  making  allow- 
ance for  this  disturbing  influence,  it  is  certain  that  the 
temperature  of  the  air  has  a  considerably  larger  daily  range 
than  that  of  the  sea  on  which  it  rests.  The  point  is  one 
oi  no  small  interest  in  atmospheric  physics  from  the  im- 
portant bearings  of  the  subject  on  the  relations  of  the  air 
and  its  aqueous  vapour  to  solar  and  terrestrial  radiation. 

The  houily  deviations  from  the  mean  daily  temperature 
of  the  air  at  two  place.s,  one  near  the  equator  and  the  other 
in  the  north  temperate  zone,  and  both  near  the  sea,  viz., 
Eatavia  (6°  8'  S.  lat.,  10G°  48'  E.  long.,  mean  temperature 
78°'7)  and  Rothesay  (55°  50'  N.  lat.,  5°  4'  W.  long.,  mean 
temjiorature  47°"3),  are  these  : — 


taUvla. 

jlotIies.i>-. 

Ikitttria. 

Rothesay. 

1  A.M.  -3-2 

-17 

1  P.M. +57 

+  2*4 

2    „     -3-6 

-2-0     . 

2    „    +5-6 

+  27 

3    „     -40 

-21 

3    „    +5-2 

+  2-8 

4    „     -4-3 

-2-2 

4    „    -I-4-3 

+  2-6 

6    „     -47 

-22 

6    „    +3-3 

+  21 

6    „     -4-9 

6    „    +1-9 

+  1-5 

'     „     -4-3 

-1-5 

7    „    +0-6 

+  0-9 

8    „     -2-2 

-0-9 

8    „    -0-4 

+  0-2 

9    „     -Da 

-0-2 

9    „    -1-2 

-0-4 

10    „     +2-8 

+  0-5 

10    „    -1-8 

-=0-8 

11    „     +4-4 

+  1-2 

11    „     -2-3 

-1-2 

Koou     +5 '4 

+  1-9 

Midnight-  2-8 

-1-5      1 

The  times  of  the  four  phases  of  the  daily  temperature  at 
Ratavia  are — minimum  about  5.50  A.M.,  mean  8.45  a.m., 
iiiaximnm  1.20  p.m.,  and  mean  7.40  P.M. ;  while  for 
Rothesay  the  .same  times  are  4.30  a.m.,  9.15  a.m.,  3  p.m., 
and  8.20  p.m.  At  Batavia,  where  the  days  and  nights  are 
ntorly  equal  diuLng  the  year,  there  is  little  variation  in 


these  times  through  the  months ;  but  at  Rothesay,  where 
the  days  are  much  longer  in  summer  than  in  winter,  there 
is  considerable  variation  in  the  tiines  of  occurrence  of  these 
phases.  The  following  table  shows  the  times  of  the 
phases  for  a  number  of  selected  places  in  the  northern 
hemisphere  for  the  two  extreme  months,  January  and 
July :— 


January. 

July.                  1 

Min. 

Mean. 

Mas. 

ilean. 

Mln. 

Mean. 

Mox. 

Mean. 

Sitka 

6.0 ' 
6.20 
6.50 

6.0 
5.30 
7.20 
6.50 
6.0 
4.30 
5.30 

6.50 

7.10 
6.30 
6.0 
5.40 

9.40 
10.0 
10.0 

10.40 
10.10 
10.10 
10.5 
10.0 
8.25 
9.25 

9.60 
9.50 
9.35 
9.10 
S.O 

I'.lo 

1.60 
2.40 

1.30 
2.30 
2.0 
2.40 
2.0 
0.55 
1.30 

2.35 

2.25 
2.30 
2.10 
0.40 

6.36 
9.40 
8.45 

9.0 
8.0 
7.0 
8.35 
8.0 
6.46 
8.15 

7.45 
7.50 
8.20 
8.5 
6.45 

3.*4b 
3.50 
5.0 

2.40 
3.30 
3.40 
4.40 
3.15 
3.0 
3.40 

4.30 

6.0 
5.30 
5.30 
5.0 

7.40 
8.15 
8.40 

8.36 

9.0 

8.45 

8.50 

8.15 

8.10 

7.35 

8.20 

9.5 

8.45 
9.0 
8.45 

O.M) 
3.45 

3.10 

2.50 
3.15 
3.10 
2.50 
2.50 
1.20 
2.5 

2.40 
3.10 
0.40 
1.30 
1.25 

7.30 
8.10 
8.0 

8.50 
3.50 
8.25 
8.36 
8.10 
7.60 
8.4 

S.25 

8.15 
7. -30 
6.30 
8.60 

Toronto 

Philadelphia.. 
Havana 

Archangel 

Rothesay 

Madrid 

Geneva 

.St  Bernard.,.. 
Bogoslovsk.... 
Potroale.T;an-  ) 

drovsk i 

Tiflis 

Calcutta 

Bombay 

During  the  night  in  summer  the  temperature  falls  con- 
tinuously from  the  efiects  of  terrestrial  radiation  till  the 
earliest  dawn,  when  the  daily  rise  in  the  temperature  sets 
in  ov.-ing  to  the  heat  reflected  from  the  upper  strata  of  the 
atmosphere,  which  have  begun  to  be  heated  and  lighted 
up  by  the  rays  of  the  morning  sun.  It  will  be  observed 
that  the  time  of  the  daily  minimum  temperature  occurs 
earliest  in  high  latitudes  and  latest  in  low  latitudes. 
During  winter,  on  the  other  hand,  the  minimum  tempera- 
ture takes  place  in  several  regions  some  time  before  dawn. 
At  this  season  the  two  chief  causes  on  which  changes  of 
temperature  depend  are  the  sun  and  the  passage  of  cyclones 
and  anticyclones  ;  and  it  is  probable  that  those  cases  whera 
the  minimum  occurs  markedly  before  the  dawn  are,  where 
not  occasioned  by  purely  local  disturbing  causes,  due  to 
the  mean  diurnal  times  of  occurrence  of  the  changes  of 
temperature  which  accompany  the  great  atmospheric  dis- 
turbances of  cyclones  and  anticyclones. 

In  July  the  daily  maximum  temperature  occurs  generally 
from  2  to  4  p.m.  At  places,  however,  near  the  sea,  which 
are  within  the  immediate  influence  of  the  sea  breeze,  and 
in  places  at 'some  distance  from  the  sea,  such  as  Calcutta, 
where  the  wind,  being  essentially  a  sea  wind,  attains  its 
greatest  .daily  velocity  and  the  sky  at  the  same  time  is 
much  clouded,  the  maxinjum  occurs  nearly  two  hours 
earlier.  In  high  situations,  such  as  the  St  Bernard  hospice, 
the  highest  daUy  temperature  also  occurs  nearly  two  hours 
sooner  than  on  the  plains  below.  In  the  ■R'iuter  months 
the  maximum  is  about  an  hour  earlier  than  in  the 
summer. 

In  investigating  'Ae  daily  curves  of  temperature.  Sir 
David  Brewster  drew  several  interesting  conclusions  from 
them.  By  dividing  the  daily  curve  of  temperature,  deduced 
from  the  mean  of  the  year,  into  four  portions,  at  the  points 
representing  the  two  daily  means  and  the  two  extremes, 
he  showed  that  the  four  portions  approximate  to  parabolas, 
in  which  the  temperatures  are  the  abscissae  and  the  hours 
the  ordinates.  The  correspondence  between  the  observed 
and  calculated  results  is  so  close  that  the  difference  did 
not  in  any  case  exceed  a  quarter  of  a  degree  Fahrenheit 
This  interesting  result  is  true  for  places  at  which  the 
horizon  is  open  all  round,  so  that  no  shadows  of  hills, 
trees,  or  buildings  fall  on  the  places  where  the  therpio- 
meters  are  kept  during  the  day.     If  a  hill  rises  to    ibc 


118 


METEOROLOGY 


[TEMrErATUiir. 


north  of  the  place,  by  which  the  sun's  rays  are  never 
obstructeU,  it  exercises  little,  if  any,  influence  on  the 
observations ;  but  if  one  or  more  hills  obstruct  the  rays 
of  the  sun  after  it  has  risen  above  the  horizon,  such  obstruc- 
tion affects  the  temperature  while,  and  for  some  time 
after,  the  position  in  which  the  thermometer  is  placed  is 
shaded  from  the  sun. 

Brewster  further  made  the  important  remark  that  tne 
mean  of  observations  made  at  any  pair  of  hours  of  the 
same  name,  such  as  8  a.m.  and  8  p.m.,  9  a.m.  and  9  p.m., 
&c.,  does  not  differ  much  from  the  mean  temperature  of 
the  day.  The  pairs  of  hours  which  approximate  closest  to 
the  true  daily  mean  are  9  a.m.  and  9  p.m.,  10  a.m.  and  10 
P.M.,  3  a.m.  and  3  p.m.,  and  i  a.m.  and  4  pm.  The  mean 
of  four  hours  at  equal  intervals  from  each  other  gives  a 
result  still  closer  to  the  true  mean  temperature. 

Ill  organiziug  any  system  of  meteorological  observptioh,  by  which 
it  is  intended  to  develop  the  climatology  of  the  country,  the  de- 
termination of  the  hours  of  observation  is  a  question  of  the  first 
importance.  If  only  two  observations  be  made  daily  the  best  houi-s 
are  9  A.M.  and  9  p.m.,  or  10  a.m.  and  10  p.m.  ;  and  if  there  be  four 
observations  the  best  hours  are  3  and  9  A.M.  and  3  and  9  p.m., 
or  i  and  10  a.m.  and  4  and  10  p.M-  If  there  be  three  observa- 
tions the  best  hours  are  9  A.M.  and  3  and  9  p..m. ,  or  10  .\.M. 
and  4  and  10  p.m.;  but  in  these  cases  it  is  essential  that  the 
observations  of  a  minimum  tliermoraoter  be  added  to  the  tempera- 
ture observations.  Theso  liours  are  further  strongly  recommended 
by  the  consideration  that  they  are  approximately  coincident  with 
the  diurnal  phases  of  atmospheric  pressure,  an  exact  knowledge 
of  which  lies  at  the  root  of  nearly  all  cUmatological  inquiries. 
The  three  equidistant  hours  which  have  been  adopted  in  several 
countries,  viz.,  6  a.m.  and  2  and  10  P.M.,  are  only  good  as  regards 
the  temperature,  not  as  regards  atmospheric  ))ressnre.  With  re- 
spect to  two  daily  observations,  the  liours  S  a.m.  and  1  p.m.,  which 
have  been  adopted  in  some  countries,  are  singularly  unsuitable 
for  the  furnishing  of  the  observational  data  required  in  the  de- 
velopment of  the  climatologies  of  these  countries;  and,  what  is 
still  more  serious  in  a  science  where  international  co-operation  is  so 
imperatively  demanded,  these  observations  cannot  be  used  with 
any  satisfaction  in  such  deeply  important  inquiries  as  the  com- 
parative climatologies  of  Europe. 

The  times  of  occurrence  of  the  highest,  lowest,  and 
mean  daily  temperatures,  and  the  amount  of  the  daily 
range  of  temperature,  are  in  a  great  degree  influenced  by 
the  covering  or  want  of  covering  of  the  earth's  siu'face  on 
which  the  air  rests.  ^Vhen  the  ground  is  covered  with 
Tegetation,  the  whole  of  the  solar  heat  falls  on  the 
vegetable  covering ;  and,  as  none  falls  immediately  on  the 
Boil,  its  temperature  does  not  rise  so  high  as  happens  where 
there  is  no  vegetable  covering  to  shade  Uie  surface  from 
the  sun.  The  temperature  of  plants  exposed  to  the  sun  is 
not  so  high  as  tiat  of  exjiosed  soil  in  the  vicinity.  As 
regards  forest.s,  the  four  diurnal  pha,ses  of  temperature 
occur  later  than  in  the  open  countr|-,  and  the  ina.xiinuni 
and  minimum  are  less  decided ;  and,  since  the  maximum 
temperature  of  the  air  in  forests  falls  short  of  the  maximum 
in  the  open  to  a  considerably  greater  extent  than  the 
minimum  under  trees  is  above  the  minimum  in  the  open, 
it  follows  that  the  mean  temperature  of  the  air  in  forests 
is  le.ss  than  that  of  the  open  country  adjoining.  The 
reason  of  the  .difference  is  that  the  chilling  effects  of 
nocturnal  radiation  penetrate  lov/er  down  among'  the  trees 
than  do  the  heating  effects  of  .solar  radiation ;  and  as  the 
soil  is  not  heated  directly  by  the  sun  its  temperature  is 
lower,  and  consequently  that  of  the  air  over  it  is  also 
lower.  A  cleared  space  in  a  forest,  sheltered  by  the  sur- 
rounding trees,  but  ojien  to  the  sun,  has  a  warmer  and 
moister  atmosphere  in  spring  and  summer  and  very  much 
moister  in  autumn  than  prevails  in  the  open  country 
adjoining,  and  has  also  the  diurnal  differences  of  range 
pectiliar  to  a  warmer  and  moister  atmosphere. 

One  of  the  most  important  elements  of  climate  is  dis- 
rlo.sed  by  the  difference  between  the  hour  of  lowest  and 
the  hour  of  highest  mean  temperature  respectively,  or,  as 


it  is  usually  exjiressed,  by  the  daily  range  of  temperature. 
We  have  seen  that  as  regards  the  sea  in  the  north-west  nf 
Scotland  the  difference  is  only  0°'3  and  in  the  Atlantic 
about  30^  N.  lat.  0''8,  and  that  probably  the  diurnal  range 
of  temperature  of  the  surface  of  the  sea  nowhere  amounts  to 
a  degree.  In  the  .same  part  of  the  Atlantic  the  daily  range 
of  the  temperature  of  the  air  resting  on  the  ocean  is  3°'2, 
and  on  the  .sea  near  land  4'-4.  On  advancing  on  the  land, 
the  daily  range  of  temperature  rapidly  increases,  and  the 
rate  of  increase  is  greatly  augmented  when  an  inland 
position  is  arrived  at  to  which  any  sea  breezes  that  may 
prevail  do  not  extend. 

The  true  daily  range  of  temperature  is  stated  by  ob.ser- 
vations  made  with  maximum  and  minimum  thermometers. 
Generally  speaking,  the  amount  of  the  range  increases  as 
the  latitude  is  dinxinished,  and  as  the  distance  from  the  sea 
is  increased,  but  above  all  it  increases  in  proportion  to  the 
dryness  of  the  climate. 

The  dilFerences  of  this  vital  element  of  climate  pvcstrikmgly.showu 
in  the  meteorology  of  India.  In  the  Jleimrt  for  1S80  the  following 
ai-e  tile  mean  daily  ranges  of  March  of  that  year  at  a  few  places  : 
at  Goa  5°'4,  Bombay  11  '2,  Kurrachce  23^*5,  Jacobubad  37*'4,  and 
Pachbudra  (lat.  25°  55'  N.,  long.  72°  IS'  E.)  41°-3.  In  the  last 
case,  midoubtedly  one  of  the  greatest  mean  daily  ranges  of  tem- 
perature meteorology  has  yet  recorded,  the  mean  of  tlic  days  was 
103°-4  and  of  the  nights  02°1.  As  .March  is  altogether  within 
the  season  of  the  north-east  monsoon,  the  general  drift  of  the 
wind  over  western  India,  where  these  are  situated,  is  fi-om  the 
interior  towards  the  sea,  subject  as  I'egards  Bombay  and  Goa  I* 
the  influences  of  the  land  and  the  sea  breeze.  On  the  other  hand, 
in  June,  when  the  south-west  monsoon  has  fairly  .set  in,  tliJ 
following  are  the  mean  daily  raugfs  of  temperature  at  the  s.inie 
places;  at  Goa  5"-6,  Bomb.iy  8°-2,  Kurrachee  10°,  Jacokibad  27°'fi, 
and  ?.ichbudra  24°'l.  These  show  in  a  striking  manner  the 
powerful  influence  of  the  moister  atmosphere  spread  over  India  by 
the  south-west  monsoon,  under  which  tlic  daily  range  of  tenipera- 
turc  falls  at  Kurrachee  from  2.'j°  5  to  10°,  and  in  the  cxcewivcly 
arid  climate  of  Pachbudra  from  41°-3  to  24°'l.  In  these  Jry 
climatcs  of  the  Imsin  of  the  Indus,  whilst  the  rainfall  both  in  Jlarch 
and  in  Juno  is  practically  nil,  yet  the  relative  huniidity  of  '.hf. 
atmosphere  is  widely  JifTeront.  'i'hus  the  humidities  for  ilai-ch  and 
Juno  respectively  at  4  P.M.,  wiien  the  temperature  is  nearly  the 
maximum  for  the  day,  are  43  and  77  for  Kurrachce,  IS  and  30  for 
Jacobabad,  and  11  and  36  for  Pachbudra.  It  is  not  so  much  the 
amount  of  cloud  that  determines  the  degree  of  fierceness  of  the  sun's 
heat  in  these  climates  as  the  relative  humidity,  or  the  dryness  of 
the  air,  as  pointed  out  by  Strachey  in  1866.  Thus  at  Jacobabad 
less  than  half  tlie  amount  of  cloud  appears  in  the  sky  in  June 
as  compared  with  March,  but  the  relative  humidities  are  30 
and  18,  and  the  daily  range  of  temperature  27''-6  and  37°-4.  If 
we  except  the  dry  arid  wastes  of  I  ei-sia  and  Arabia,  there  i.^ 
perhaps  no  other  region  of  the  globe  where  the  daily  lange  of 
temperature  approaches  that  of  the  valley  of  the  Indus.  Thui 
in  tlie  dry  climates  of  such  places  as  baci-amento  (California) 
in  summer  it  amounts  only  to  about  30°,  at  Madrid  to  27°,  anJ 
JeriLsalcm  24°.  In  central  districts  in  the  south  of  Rn;^land 
it  is  about  20°;  farther  north  it  falls  to  15°;  and  in  the  islands 
in  the  north,  whose  climate  is  strictly  insular  in  its  character, 
the  summer  daily  range  is  only  10°.  Ill  Arctic  regions,  sucli 
as  Spitsbergen  and  Boothia  Felix,  the  range  in  .winter  varies 
from  0"'0  to  l^'O;  in  May,  when  the  sun  has  reappeared  and 
continues  to  rise  and  set,  it  rises  to  14°;  but  iu  July,  when  the 
sun  docs  not  set,  tlie  range  sinks  to  10°. 

But  maximum  and  minimum  thermometers  not  only 
show  the  mean  daily  range  of  temperature,  they  are  also 
of  great  utility  in  giving  observations  for  the  determination 
of  mean  temperatvire.  The  mean  temperature  may  bj 
accepted  ;'.s  the  mean  of  the  twenty-four  hourly  ob.serva- 
tions  of  the  day.  If  with  such  a  system  of  observation 
daily  readings  of  the  maximum  and  minimum  thermometer 
be  compared,  the  value  of  the  latter  observations  in 
questions  of  mean  temiterature  may  be  arrived  at.  Double 
.series  of  observations  of  this  description  have  been  made 
at  mauj'  ])laces.  The  following  shows  a  comparison  of  the 
mean  of  maximum  and  minimum  daily  temperatures  with 
means  from  observations  made  twenty-four  times  daily, 
the  former  exceeding  the  latter  means  in  nearly  iH 
cases : — 


METEOROLOGY 


Biitavia 

Calcutta 

Peking 0 

Nertcliiiisk |     0 

B.irnnul 

Ekntermbu'.g.... 

Tiflis 

St  Petersburg.... 

Yalcntia 

Grefnwich 

Rothesay 


>,.:..,. 

Sninmer. 

^jituiiin. 

Wli.rtv, 

Year,     i 

-OS 

-0-2 

-0  2 

-0-2 

-0-2 

vo 

0-7 

0-7 

0  9 

0-8 

0-6 

0-6 

0-6 

0-7 

0-6 

Oi 

0-8 

€■6 

10 

0-3 

0-5 

Of) 

0-7 

0-8 

0-6 

ori 

0-7 

Of 

0-6 

0  0 

0-5 

0-5 

0-5 

0-4 

0-6 

0-6 

0-6 

0-3 

0  1 

0-4 

0-4 

0-5 

0-1 

-0-1 

0-2 

07 

0-8 

0-6 

0-0 

0-4 

0-4 

0-3 

0-3 

0-3 

0-3 

These  results  show  remarkable  uniformity,  and  it  may 
he  inferred  from  them  that  mean  temperatures  deduced 
from  maximum  and  minimum  observations  are  about  half 
a  degree  above  the  true  mean  temperature.  Ip  general 
climatological  inquiries,  obs\rvations  with  these  thermo- 
meters have  the  strong  recommendation  of  supplj-ing  from 
observations  taken  once  a  day  the  data  for  the  determina- 
tion of  the  mean  temperature  and  mean  daily  range  of 
localities  ;  to  which  falls  to  be  added  the  further  advantage 
of  giving  results  more  uniformly  comparable  for  different 
places  than  could  be  afforded  by  observations  made  with  a 
common  thermometer  at  any  single  hour  or  pair  of  hours 
daily. 

Daily  Variation  of  the  Humidity  of  the  Air. — The 
gaseous  envelope  surrounding  the  earth  is  composed  of 
two  atmospheres,  quite  distinct  from  each  other, — an 
atmosphere  of  dry  air  and  an  atmosphere  of  aqueous 
vapour.  The  dry  air,  which  consists  of  oxygen  and 
nitrogen,  is  always  a  gas,  and  its  quantity  remains  constant ; 
but  the  aqueous  vapour  doe-s  not  continue  permanently  in 
the  gaseous  state,  and  the  quantity  present  in  the  air  is, 
by  the  ceaseless  processes  of  evaporation  and  condensation, 
constantly  changing.  If  the  aqueous  -.vapour  remained 
permanently  and  unchanged  in  the  atmosphere,  or  were 
not  liable  to  be  condensed  into  cloud  or  rain,  the  mixtiure 
would  become  as  complete  as  that  of  the  oxygen  and 
nitrogen  of  the  air.  The  equilibrium  of  the  vapour  atmo- 
Ephere,  however,  is  being  constantly  disturbed  by  every 
change  of  temperature,  by  every  instance  of  condensation, 
and  by  the  unceasing  process  of  evaporation.  Since  dry 
air  further  materially  obstructs  the  free  diffusion  of  the 
aqueous  vapour,  it  follows  that  the  law  of  the  independent 
pressure  of  the  vapour  and  of  the  dry  air  of  the  atmosphere 
holds  good  only  approximately.  The  aqueous  vapoiu-, 
however,  constantly  tends  to  approach  this  state.  Since, 
then,  the  independent  and  equal  diffusion  of  the  dry  air 
and  the  aqueous  vapour  is,  owing  to  these  disturbing  causes, 
never  reached,  the  important  conclusion  follows  that  the 
hygrometer  can  never  indicate  more  than  the  local  humidity 
of  the  place  where  it  is  observed.  Hygrometric  observa- 
tions can  therefore  be  regarded  only  as  approximations  to 
a  true  indication  of  the  quantity  of  aqueous  vapotir  in  the 
atmosphere  over  the  place  of  observation.  It  is,  however, 
to  be  added  that,  while  in  certain  cases  the  amount  of  vapour 
indicated  is  far  from  the  truth,  yet  in  averages,  particularly 
long  averages,  a  close  approximation  to  the  real  amount  is 
reached  it  the  hygrometer  be  at  all  tolerably  well  exposed 
and  carefuUy  observed. 

Aqueous  vapour  is  constantly  being  added  to  the  air 
from  the  surfaces  of  water,  snow,  and  ice,  from  moist 
Burfaces,  and  from  plants.  The  rate  of  evaporation 
increases  with  an  increase  of  temperature,  because  the 
capacity  of  the  air  for  vapour  is  thereby  increased.  The 
atmosphere  can  contain  only  a  certain  definite  amount  of 
vapour,  according  to  the  temperature ;  when  therefore  the 
air  has  its  full  complement  of  vapovur,  or  when,  in  other 
'■words,  it  is  saturated,  evaporation  ceases.  Thus  the  rate 
of  evaporation  is  greatest  when  the  air  is  driest  or  frctot 


119 

from  vapour,  and  Iea?t  when  the  air  is  nearest  the  point  of 
•saturation.  Since  currents  of  air  remove  the  moister  and 
substitute  drier  air  over  the  evaporating  surfaces,  evapora- 
tion is  much  more  rapid  during  wind  than  in  calm  weather. 
As  air  expands  under  a  diminished  pressure,  its  temperature 
consequently  falls,  and  it  continues  to  approach  nearer  to 
the  point  of  satm-ation,  or  become  moister ;  and,  as  it 
contracts  under  an  increased  pressure,  its  temperature  rises 
and  it  recedes  from  the  point  of  saturation  or  becomes 
drier.  Hence  ascending  currents  of  air  become  moister 
■with  every  addition  to  the  ascent,  and  descending  currents 
drier  as  they  continue  to  descend.  Thus  as  muds  ascend 
the  slopes  of  hills  they  become  moister,  but  Miien  they 
have  crossed  the  summit  and  flow  down  the  other  side 
they  become  drier  in  proportion  to  the  descent,  and  all  the 
changes  ma)'  be  experienced  from  extreme  dryness  to 
saturation  in  the  same  mass  of  air,  which  all  the  time  has 
practically  had  its  amount  of  aqueous  vapour  neither  added 
to  nor  diminished. 

In  an  atmosphere  Oi  air  and  aqueous  vajwur  perfectly 
mixed,  the  elastic  force  of  each  at  the  surface  of  the  earth 
is  the  pressure  of  each.  In  this  case  the  elastic  force  of 
aqueous  vapour  would  be  the  pressure  of  the  whole  vapour 
in  the  atmosphere  over  the  place  of  observation.  This 
pressure  is  expressed  in  inches  of  mercury  of  the  barometer. 
If  we  suppose  the  total  barometric  [jrcssure  to  be  30 '000 
inches,  and  the  elastic  force  of  vapour  to  be  0'7.4.t  inch, 
the  presstire  or  weight  of  the  dry  air,  or  air  proper,  would 
be  29'25.5  inches,  and  of  the  aqueous  vapour  0'745  inch. 
From  this  it  follows  that  the  elastic  force  of  vapotu-  may 
be  regarded  as  indicating  the  quantity  of  aqueous  vapour 
in  the  air  at  the  place  of  observation,  or  it  may  be  desig- 
nated the  absolute  humidity  of  the  air. 

The  diurnal  variation  in  the  elastic  force  of  vapour  in 
the  air  is  seen  in  its  simplest  form  on  the  open  sea. 
Grouping  together  all  the  hygrometric  observations  made 
ou  board  the  "Challenger"  on  the  North  Atlantic  at  a 
distance  from  land,  from  March  to  July  1873  (eighty-four 
days),  we  have  for  that  time  a  mean  elastic  force  of  0'6.59 
inch,  and  the  following  diurnal  variation  : — 


Inch. 

1                           Inch. 

Inch. 

2  a.m. --015 

10AM.  +  -004 

6  r.  M.  +  -007 

4    „     --020 

Noou  +-017 

8    „    +-002 

6    „     -  -016 

2  I'.M. -1-  -020 

10    „     --005 

8    „     --007 

4   „.  -^■0l7 

Midnight +003 

Hence  the  minimum  ( -  '020  inch)  occurs  at  the  hoiu- 
when  the  temperature  of  the  surface  of  the  sea  and  air 
resting  over  it  falls  to  the  daily  minimum ;  it  then  rises 
to  the  mean  a  little  after  9  a.m..  and  to  the  daily  maximum 
(  +  '020  inch)  at  2  p.m.,  when  the  sea  and  air  are  abo  near 
the  daily  maximimi,  and  falls  to  the  mean  shortly  before 

9  P.M. 

Treating  the  observations  made  near  land  by  the 
"Challenger"  during  the  same  months,  the  following  is 
the  diurnal  variation  disclosed  : — 


Inch. 

Inch. 

iDCJl. 

2  a.m.  -  -003 

10  A.M.  + -014 

6  P.M.      -000 

4    „     --009 

Noou  -1-  ■oil 

8    ,,     --004 

6    „     -  -010 

2  P.M. -1- -007 

10    „     --005 

8    „     -  -003 

4    „     -h'015 

Midnight -007 

The  disturbance  induced  by  proximity  to  land  in  the 
distribution  of  the  aqueous  vapour  in  the  lower  strata  of 
the  atmosphere  is  very  strijdng.  The  maximum  and 
minimum  no  longer  follow  the  corresponding  phases  of  the 
temperature  of  the  surface  of  the  sea  and  of  the  air.  Tlie 
disturbing  agents  are  the  sea  and  land  breezes  and  their 
effects.  Under  the  influence  of  the  land  breeze  the  time 
of  the  minimum  humidity  is  delayed  till  about  6  a.m.;  and 
under  the  influence  of  the  sea  breeze  and  its  effects  the 
amount  of  the  aqueous  vapour  shov.-s  a  secondary  minimum 
from  noon  to  2  P.M.     It  is  to  be  here  noted  that  this  midday 


120 


METEOKOLOGY 


[dew. 


niimmum  occm-,-  at  the  hours  ol'  the  day  when  the  sui-face 
of  the  land  i<  most  higlily  heated,  the  ascending  current 
<il'  heated  air  ri^iny  from  it  therefore  strongest,  and  the 
ri;suJtinK  breeze  from  the  sen  towards  the  land  also  strongest. 
Xow  it  dots  not  admit  of  a  doubt  that  the  diminution  in 
the  amount  of  the  aqueous  vapour  noted  on  Vioard  the 
"Challenger''  near  the  shore  points  to  an  intermLxture 
with  the  air  forming  the  sea  breeze  of  descending  thin 
air-filanients  or  currents  to  supply  the  place  of  the  masses 
of  air  removed  by  the  ascending  currents  which  rise  from 
the  heated  surface  of  the  land.  At  Batavia,  on  the  north 
coast  of  Java,  and  at  Bombay,  the  aqueous  vapour  is  also 
subject  to  a  secondary  minimum  during  the  warmest  hours 
of  the  day. 

During  the  summer  months  this  secondary  minimum  is 
best  iuarked  at  inland  places  such  as  Peking,  Nertcliinsk, 
Barnaul,  Tiflis,  and  Ekaterinburg,  but  the  time  of  its 
occurrence  is  about  two  hours  later  than  it  is  over  the 
Xorth  Atlantic.  Over  all  these  places  at  this  season  the 
ascending  current  from  the  heated  land  in  the  interior  of 
Asia  is  very  strong.  On  the  other  hand  the  lowering  of 
the  amount  of  aqueous  vajjoiir  scarcely  if  at  all  appiears  as 
a  feature  in  the  summer  climate  of  St  Petersburg,  and 
not  at  all  in  that  of  Sitka,  where  the  sea  breeze  is  equally 
not  a  constant  feature  of  the  clirjate  of  the  district. 

In  the  e.\co3sivi-ly  dry,  rainless,  and  hot  climate  of  Allahabad,  in 
April  tliL-  iliurnal  minimum  of  the  ariueous  vapour  occui-s  from 
11  A.M.  to  6  P.M.,  the  time  of  absolute  minimum  being  2  and 
3  P.M.  During  all  otlicr  hours  of  the  day  the  amount  of  the 
vapour  Id  above  the  mean,  a  secondary  minimum  occurring  from 
1  to  1  .\.M.  At  Allahabad,  at  this  time,  the  absolute  m.axi- 
mum  vapour  pressure  occ  "s  at  8  A.M.  Quit*  similar  to  this  is 
the  dlurual  distrilnition  of  ilic  aqueous  vapour  in  July  at  Lisbon 
and  Coimbri,  the  minimum  occuriing  from  10  .\. M.  to  3  P.M.  At 
this  time  of  the  year  the  climate  of  this  part  of  the  peninsula  is 
hot  aud  dry  and  the  rainl'all  insignificant  in  amount.  As  this 
region  lies  between  the  liigh  atmosjdieric  pressure  so  characteristic 
a  feature  of  the  meteorology  of  the  Atlantic  in  summer  and  the 
comparatively  low  pressure  over  the  continents  southward  and 
eastward,  the  winds  are  almost  wholly  north-westerly.  In  this 
connexion  it  is  instructive  to  note  that  the  time  of  maximum 
vapour  pressure  is  from  4  to  7  A.M.,  when  the  velocity  of  the  wind 
is  near  the  minimum,  and  the  chief  minimum  vapour  pressure 
from  noon  to  4  P.M.,  when  the  velocity  of  the  wind  and  ascend- 
ing current.=  roach  the  daily  maximum.  These  results  show  that 
the  diminution  iu  the  vapour  pressure  during  the  houi-s  wdieu 
temperature  is  highest,  which  chaiucterizes  the  cUmates  of  large 
tracts  of  the  globe,  is  due  to  descending  air-filaments  or  currents, 
wliich  necessarily  accompany  the  ascending  currents  that  rise  from 
the  heated  land. 

At  Geneva  during  liie  summer  months  the  vapour  curve  exhibits 
two  daily  minima  very  strongly  marked,  the  one  shortly  before 
Hunrise  aud  the  other  from  2  to  4  P.M.,  and  two  maxima,  one 
from  8  to  11  A..M.  and  the  other  from  o'  to  10  p.m.;  and  with 
these  the  thurnal  variations  of  cloud  are  in  accordance.  The 
peculiarly  marked  features  of  the  vapom-  cm-ve  at  Geneva  az'e 
probably  duo  to  the  size  of  the  lake,  which  is  large  enough  to 
gi\o  rise  to  a  decided  breeze  during  the  day  from  the  lake  all 
round  its  shores  and  during  the  night  to  a  breeze  from  the  land 
all  round  u[>ou  the  lake.  On  the  setting  ia  of  the  breeze,  the 
mass  of  air  composing  it,  having  been  for  seme  time  resting  on 
the  lake,  is  rather  moist,  an-l  cnus  one  of  the  daily  maxima  is 
brouglit  about  from  8  to  11  a.m.  As  the  breeze  continues  the  air 
supplying  it  is  necessarily  drawn  from  the  higher  strata  of  the 
atmosphere  more  copiously  than  in  different  situations ;  and,  having 
tiius  acquired  increased  dryness  in  the  descent,  and  having  blowu 
over  the  lake  for  too  short  a  distance  to  mateiially  influence  its  ' 
moisture,  the  air  becomes  constantly  drier,  till  the  minimum 
from  2  to  4  P.M.  is  reached.  The  lake  breeze  thereafter  begins  to 
diminish  in  force,  and  the  air  consequently  becomes  moistertill  the 
maximum  vapour  pressure  of  the  day  occurs  wiien  the  lake  breeze 
dies  away  and  the  land  breeze  has  not  yet  sprang  up.  In  the 
winter  months,  when  these  breezes  do  not  prevail,  the  curve  of 
diurnal  vapour  pressure  shows  only  one  maximum  and  minimum. 

TLe  reliitive  humiditi/  of  the  atmosplicre  must  not  be 
confounded  with  its  vapour  pressure  or  absolute  humidity. 
The  relative  humidity,  or,  as  it  is  more  frequently  <;allcd, 
the  humidity,  of  the  air  is  the  degree  of  its  approach  to 
saturation.     Complete  saturation   is  represented   by  100 


and  air  absolutely  free  of  vapour  by  0,  the  ktter  state  of 
things  never  occurring  in  the  atmosphere,  a  htmiidity  of 
10  being  of  rare  occurrence  even  in  such  arid  regions  as 
those  of  Arabia.  The  great  significance  of  this  element  of 
climate  is  in  its  relations  to  the  diathermancy  of  the  air, 
and  consequently  to  solar  aud  terrestrial  radiation.  It  is 
supposed  that  perfectly  dry  air  would  allow  rays  of  heat 
to  pass  through  it  with  at  most  only  a  very  slight 
increase  to  its  temperature  therefrom.  Let,  however,  a 
little  aqueous  vapour  be  added  to  it,  a  partial  obstruction 
to  the  passage  of  radiant  heat  is  offered,  and  the  temjjera- 
ture  of.  the  mixture,  or  common  air,  is  sensibly  raised. 
Hence,  other  things  being  equal,  the  less  the  amount  of 
vapour  the  more  are  the  effects  of  radiation  felt,  or  the 
greater  the  heat  of  the  days  and  the  cold  of  the  nights. 
The  mere  amount  of  vapour  in  the  air  does  not  determine 
the  degree  of  radiation,  but  it  is  the  amoimt  of  vaix)ur 
together  with  a  certain  temperature — in  other  words,  the 
absolute  and  relative  humidity  of  the  air  taken  together — 
that  determines  the  heating  power  of  the  sun  and  the 
degree  of  cold  produced  by  terrestrial  radiation. 

The  diurnal  variation  of  the  relative  hiimidity  is  very 
different  from  that  of  the  vapour  pressure,  and  presents 
features  of  the  simplest  character.  Tlie  following  are  the 
diurnal  variations  from  the  mean  humidity  80  over  the 
North  Atlantic,  from  the  "Challenger"  observations  in 
1873  •— 


■2A.yi.+2 


6  P.M. 


10  A.M.  -1 

oon   -  i 

P.M.  - ; 

Midnight -(-2 

Thus  the  maximum  humidity  occurs  from  midnight  to 
4  A.M.,  or  when  the  d&ily  temperature  is  at  the  minimum, 
and  the  minimum  humidity  at  2  p.m.,  when  the  tempera- 
ture is  at  the  maximum,  the  curve  of  humidity  being  thus 
inverse  to  that  of  the  temperature.  With  two  slight 
modifications  this  is  the  diurnal  humidity  curve  for  all 
climates  and  seasons.  In  the  calm  which  intervenes  in 
the  morning  between  the  land  and  the  sea  breeze  the 
humidity  continues  high,  or  even  increases,  though  at  the 
time  the  diurnal  -increase  of  temperature  has  already  set 
in.  The  other  modification  is  seen  in  the  humidity  ciurves 
for  Nertchinsk  and  Barnaul  during  winter,  these  curves 
being  not  inverse  but  coincident  with  the  daily  curves  of 
temi)erature.  In  the  climates  of  Central  Asia  in  winter, 
the  amount  of  vapour  is  very  small,  and  the  increase  to 
the  relative  humidity  during  the  day  is  probably  occasioned 
by  the  more  active  evaporation  from  the  snow  during  the 
day  and  the  stillness  of  the  air  favouring  the  accumidation 
of  aqueous  vapour  near  the  surface  of  the  earth. 

Next  to  the  winds,  the  aqueous  vapour  of  the  atmo- 
sphere, in  the  diverse  ways  in  which  in  different  localities 
it  is  distributed  through  the  hours  of  the  day,  plays  the 
most  important  part  in  giving  to  the  ditferent  parts  of  the 
globe  its  infinitely  diversified  climates. 

Detv.- — Dew  is  deposited  over  the  earth's  surface  on 
comparatively  clear  aud  calm  nights.  As  the  cooling  by 
terrestrial  radiation  continues,  the  temperatiu-e  of  objects 
on  the  surface  is  gradually  lowered  to  the  dew-point,  and 
wheu  this  point  is  reached  the  aqueous  vapour  begins  to 
be  condensed  into  dew  on  their  surfaces.  The  quantity 
deposited  is  in  proportion  to  the  degree  of  cold  produced 
and  the  quantity  of  vapour  in  the  air.  Dew  is  not 
deposited  in  cloudy  weather,  because  clouds  obstruct  the 
escape  of  heat  by  radiation,  nor  in  windy  weather, 
because  wind  continually  renews  the  air  in  contact  with 
the  surface,  thus  preventing  the  temperature  from  falling 
sufficiently  low.  Vljen  the  temperature  is  below  32°,  dew 
freezes  as  it  is  deposited,  and  hoar-frost  is  produced.  The 
dew-point  practically  determines  the  minimum  teniperatiue 


BAEOKCETRIC  OSCILLATIONS.]  METEOROLOGY 


of  the  night, — because  if  the  temperature  falls  a  little 
below  the  dew-point  the  liberation  of  heat  as  the  vapour 
is  condensed  into  dew  speedily  raises  it,  and  if  it  rises 
higher  the  loss  of  heat  by  radiation  speedily  lowers  it. 
This  consideration  suggests  an  important  practical  use  of 
the  hygrometer,  it  being  evident  that  by  ascertaining  the 
dew-point  the  approach  of  frost  or  low  temperature  likely 
to  injure  vegetation  may  be  foreseen  and  provided  against. 
Diurnal  Oscillations  of  ihe  Barometer. — The  general 
character  of  the  daUy  oscillations  of  atmospheric  pressure 
is  shown  by  the  two  curves  of  fig.  2.  The  solid 
line   gives   the    mean   oscillation    for   Bombay   and    tie 


-m 

\i  \\/- 

O  '  1  '  1 

-m"n- 

"T 

\ 

\ 

\ 

. 

' 

*..  \ 

/ 

\, 

'*•. 

"A 

/  ' 

\     ■■ 

V. 

A- 

\ 

\  '"  , 

7 

■N. 

\ 

■/ 

x 

/ 

^ 

.  1  1 

Mill 

,1 1  1  1.1- 

J_J_J_LJ. 

1 

Fig.  2. — Daily  Oscillations  of  Atmospheric  Pressure. 

dotted  line  that  for  Vienna,  these  two  curves  being  to 
a  large  extent  tyjncal  of  diurnal  barometric  oscillations  in 
tropical  and  temperate  regions  as  regards  the  two  maxima 
and  minima  and  the  time  of  their  occurrence. 

A  series  of  twelve  maps  of  the  globe  were  prepared  for 
June,  showing,  for  all  stations  whence  observations  have 
been  obtained,  the  deviations  at  noon,  2  p.m.,  4  p.m., 
4c.,  Greenwich  mean  time,  from  the  mean  daily  pressure ; 
and  four  lines  were  drawn  indicating  the  positions  of  the 
two  daily  maxima  and  minima  at  these  hours.  For  fully 
30°  north  and  south  of  the  equator  the  lines  of  maxima 
and  minima  run  north  and  south,  but  in  higher  latitudes 
these  directions  are  changed,  and  the  changes  are  chiefly 
conspicuous  as  regards  the  A.M.  maximum  and  the  p.m. 
minimum.  Thus,  for  example,  at  6  p.m.  (Q.  M.  T.)  the 
line  of  P.M.  Tnininiiim  is  for  the  latitude  of  London  near 
16*  W.  long. ;  in  30°  N.  lat.  it  is  in  35°  W.  long.,  in  which 
the  line  runs  south  as  far  as  30°  S.  lat. ;  its  course  thence 
turns  south-westwards  to  near  the  Falkland  Islands,  60° 
W.  long.  Hence  in  June  the  p.m.  minimum  occurs  about 
three  hours  earlier  in  the  Falkland  Islands  than  to  the 
south-west  of  Ireland,  thus  showing  in  a  striking  manner 
the  influence  of  season  on  this  phenomenon.  In  the  middle 
and  higher  latitudes  in  summer,  proximity  to  the  sea 
delays  the  time  of  occurrence  of  the  a.m.  maximtim  and 
the  p.m.  minimum ;  whilst  in  continental  situations  the 
A.M.  maximum  occurs  much  earlier  than  in  lower  latitudes, 
and  the  p.m.  minimum  nearly  as  late  as  at  places  near  the 
sea.  In  cases  where  the  lines  of  maxima  and  minima 
cross  a  region  such  as  southern  and  western  Europe,  whose 
surface  is  diversified  by  large  tracts  of  land  and  sheets  of 
water,  the  deflexions  are  of  a  remarkable  character. 

The  retardation  of  the  time  of  occurrence  of  the  A.M. 
maximum  is  greatest  in  situations  which,  while  eminently 
insular  in  character,  are  at  the  same  time  not  far  from  an 
extensive  tract  of  land.  Of  this  Holland  presents  the  best 
example  in  Europe ;  and  there  the  a.m.  maximum,  which 
at  Paris  occurs  at  8  a.m.,  does  not  occur  at  Utrecht  tUl 
9.30  A.M.,  at  Amsterdam  till  12.30  p.m.,  and  at  Helder  till 
2  p.m.  There  is  thus  as  regards  the  same  diurnal  pheno- 
menon in  June  a  difference  of  six  hours  between  Paris  and 
Helder.  Sicily  and  the  south  of  Italy  on  the  one  hand 
and  Madrid  on  the  other  present  also  the  most  striking 
contrasts.  Again  at  Sitka  (56°  50'  K  lat.,  135°  W.  long.), 
.  which  has  one  of  the  most  truly  insular  climates  in  the 
world,  the  a.m.  maximum  is  delayed  to  2.30  p.m.  ;  whereas 

Hi— ?• 


121 

at  Astoria,  ten  degrees  to  southward,  it  occurs  at  9.30 
A.M.,  _and  at  Fort  Clnuvliill,  in  Nevada,  as  early  as 
7  A.M.  There  is  thus  as  regards  the,  same  phenomenon 
a  difference  of  1'^  30"  between  Sitka  and  Fort  Churchill. 

From  hourly  observations  made  in  this  month  at  the 
base,  the  top,  and  two  intermediate  points  on  Mount 
T7ashington  (N.  H.)  it  was  found  that  the  time  of  occur- 
rence of  the  A.M.  maximum  at  the  base  of  the  mountain, 
which  is  2898  feet  above  the  sea,  was  S  A.st. ;  at  4059 
feet,  10  A.M. ;  at  5533  feet,  11  a.m.;  and  at  the  top, 
6285  feet,  noon.  Hence,  as  regards  the  time  of  occur- 
rence, the  influence  of  an  isolated  mountain  like  Mount 
Washington  brings  about  a  result  similar  to  what  is 
observed  in  insular  situations.  But  the  analogy  is  even 
closer.  In  insular  climates  the  minimum  in  the  early 
morrung  is  very  greatly  in  excess  of  that  in  the  afternoon  ; 
and  the  same  relation  is  observed  on  the  top  of  Mount 
ATashington,  where  the  former  is  -  0'020  inch  and  the 
latter  -  0'004  inch.  Again  in  continental  climates  the 
minimum  in  the  early  morning  is  much  the  smaller  of  the 
two,  and  the  same  relation  -was  observed  at  the  base  of  the 
mountain,  where  the  observed  minima  were  respectively 
0'006  inch  and  0020  inch.  The  differences  presented  by 
the  daily  curve  of  pressure  at  the  top  as  compared  ^vith 
that  at  the  base  of  the  mountain  have  their  explanation  in 
the  effects  which  follow  the  diurnal  range  of  temperature. 
As  the  temperature  Ls  at  the  minimum  at  the  time  of  least 
pressure  in  the  morning,  the  atmosphere  is  more  condensed 
in  the  stratum  between  the  base  and  the  top,  and  conse- 
quently the  barometer  at  the  top  reads  relatively  lower. 
hs  the  temperature  continues  to  rise  during  the  day,  the 
stratum  of  air  above  the  base  of  the  mountain  expands, 
thus  placing  more  air  above  the  barometer  at  the  top,  so 
that,  while  at  the  base  pressure  begins  to  fall  at  8  a.m., 
at  the  top  it  continues  to  rise  till  noon,  simply  from  the 
mechanical  upheaval  of  the  air  owing  to  the  higher  tempera- 
ture. In  the  afternoon,  when  the  minimum  at  the  ba.se 
falls  to  -  0'020  inch,  it  is  only  -  0-004  inch  at  the  top,  this 
relatively  higher  pressure  at  the  top  being  due  to  expansion 
from  temperature.  The  peculiar  feature  of  the  pressure 
curve  at  the  top  is  essentially  a  temperature  effect. 

The  diurnal  oscillations  of  the  barometer  occur  alike 
over  the  open  sea  and  over  the  land  surfaces  of  the 
globe.  The  atmosphere  over  the  open  sea,  as  already 
shown,  rests  on  a  floor  or  surface  subject  to  a  diurnal 
range  of  temperature  so  small  as  to  render  that  temperature 
practically  a  constant  both  day  and  night.  This  considera- 
tion leads  to  the  vital  and  all-important  conclusion  that  the 
diurnal  oscillations  of  the  barometer  are  not  caused  by  the 
heating  and  cooling  of  the  earth's  surface  by  solar  and 
terrestrial  radiation  and  by  the  effects  which  follow  these 
diurnal  changes  in  the  temperature  of  the  surface,  but  that 
they  are  primarily  caused  by  the  direct  and  immediate 
heating  by  solar  radiation,  and  cooling  by  nocturnal  radif.- 
tion  to  the  cold  regions  of  space,  of  the  molecules  of  the 
air,  and  of  its  aqueous  vapour.  These  changes  of  tem- 
perature are  instantly  communicated  through  the  whole 
atmosphere  from  its  lowermost  stratum  resting  on  the 
earth's  surface  to  the  extreme  limit  of  the  atmosphere, 
which  the  flight  of  meteors  proves  to  be  not  less  than  500 
miles  There  are  important  modifications  affecting  the 
amplitude  and  times  of  occurrence  of  the  four  prominent 
phases  of  the  phenomena  observed  over  land  surfaces,  the 
temperature  of  which  is  being  superheated  during  the  day 
and  cooled  during  the  night ;  but  it  is  particularly  to  be 
noted  that  the  barometric  oscillations  themselves  are  inde- 
pendent of  any  changes  of  temperature  of  the  floor  on 
which  thfe  atmosphere  rests. 

Let  us  first  look  at  the  phenomena  iu  the  simplest  form 
as  found  in  the  Pacific,  or  in  the  midst  of  the  largest  water 


22 


M  ±:  T  E  0  R  0  L  0  G  T 


[baromktbio 


.ariace  of  the  gloVio.  The  following  are  the  mean  varia- 
tions of  pressure  from  observation:!  made  on  board  the 
"Challenger,"  September  1  to  12,  1875,  in  mean  latitude 
r  8'  S.  and  long.  150°  -iO'  "W,  the  mean  being  29-938 
inches : — 


A.  M. -0012 

10  A.M 

0-032 

6  P.M.  -0-023 

„     -0022 

Noon 

0-006 

8    „       0-004 

0-003 

2  P.M. 

-0-043 

10    „        0-013 

0028 

i    » 

-0-055 

Mianight  0-012 

The  nio.st  striking  feature  in  these  oscillations  is  the 
amplitude  of  the  range  from  the  a.m.  maximum  to  the 
P.M.  minimum,  amounting  to  0-087  inch,  and  the  rapidity 
of  the  fall  from  10  A.M.  to  2  p.m.  The  same  feature 
appears  in  all  means  deduced  from  observations  made  at 
least  12*  on  each  side  of  the  equator. 
,  From  October  12  to  22,  1875,  in  mean  lat.  35°  1'  S.,  long. 
134°  35'  W.,  the  mean  atmospheric  pressure  was  30-298 
inches,  and  the  difference  bet-sveen  the  a.m.  maximum  and 
the  p.m.  minimum  -n-as  only  0-036  inch  ;  and  from  July  12 
to  19,  1875,  in  mean  lat.  36°  16'  N.  and  long.  156° 
ir  W.,  the  mean  pressure  -was  30'328  inches,  and  the 
difference  between  the  a.m.  maximum  and  p.m.  minimum 
Was  only  0-025  inch.  Thus,  with  a  mean  pressure  in  the 
Pacific  about  lat.  35°-36°  N.  and  S.  much  greater  than 
near  the  equator,  the  oscillation  is  much  less,  being  in  the 
North  Pacific  less  than  a  third  of  what  occurs  near  the 
equator.  Similarly,  this  oscillation  is  small  (or  even  smaller) 
in  the  high-pressure  areas  in  the  North  and  South  Atlantic 
as  compared  wth  the  same  oscillation  near  the  equator. 

It  is  well  known  that  aqueous  vapour  absorbs  the  heat 
rays  of  the  sun  considerably  more  than  does  the  dry  air  of 
the  atmosphere ;  how  much  more  physicists  have  not  yet 
accurately  determined.  Consequently  air  heavily  charged 
with  aqueous  vapour  will  be  heated  directly  by  the  sun's 
rays  as  they  pass  through  it  in  a  greater  degree  than 
comparatively  dry  air  is.  Now  it  is  shown  further  on  that 
the  prevailing  surface  -winds  outflow  in  every  direction 
from  the  areas  of  high  mean  pressure  in  the  Atlantic  and 
Pacific  about  lat.  36°  N.  and  S.  Since,  notwithstanding, 
the  pressure  continues  high,  it  necessarily  follows  that  the 
high  pressure  is  maintained  by  an  inflow  of  upper  ciu-rents, 
and  as  the  slow  descending  movement  of  the  air  connects 
the  inflowing  upper  currents  with  the  outflowing  prevailing 
winds  of  the  surface,  it  follows  that  the  air  over  high- 
pre6.sure  areas  is  very  dry,  and  that  it  is  driest  where 
jiressui-e  is  highest  and  the  high-pressure  area  best  defined. 
-Hence  over  the  best-defined  auticyclonic  regions  the  air  wJl 
be  least  raised  in  temperature  through  all  its  height  by 
the  heat  rays  of  the  sun. 

On  the  other  hand,  between  these  high-pressure  areas  of 
great  oceans  there  is  a  belt  of  comparatively  low  pressure 
towards  which  the  north  and  south  trades  pour  their 
vapour  unceasingly.  The  atmosphere  of  this  belt  of  low 
pressure  is  thus  highly  saturated  with  aqueous  vapour 
which  rises  in  a  vast  ascending  stream  of  moist  air  to  the 
higher  regions  of  the  atmosphere.  These  equatorial  regions 
thus  present  to  the  sun  a  highly  saturated  atmosphere 
reaching  to  a  very  great  height.  It  is  in  these  regions 
therefore  t!i3t  the  atmosphere  will  be  most  highly  heated 
by  the  sun's  heat  rays  as  they  pass  through  it.  One  of 
the  most  striking  facts  of  meteorology  is  the  suddenness 
with  which  this  barometric  oscillation  increases  in  amplitude 
on  entering  on  these  parts  of  intertropical  regions ;  and 
the  rapidity  with  which  its  amplitude  diminishes  on 
idvancing  on  the  high-pressure  regions  of  the  horse 
latitudes  is  equally  striking.  The  following  are  the  mean 
oscillations  in  the  middle  regions  of  the  funr  great  oceans 
about  lat.  36°  from  the  a.m.  maximum  to  the  v.yi.  minimum 
about  the  time  of  the  year  in  each  ease  when  the  sun 
is  highest   in  the  heavens : — South  Pacific.    O'OSG   inch  ; 


North  Pacific,  0-026  indi;  g«Utli  Atlantic,  0-024  inch; 
and  North  Atlantic,  0-014  inch.  These  amplittidea 
diminish  as  the  oi-ean  becomes  more  land-locked  with 
continents,  or  as  the  auticyclonic  region  becomes  better 
defined  and  currents  of  air  are  poured  down  more  steadily 
from  the  higher  region.}  of  the  atmosphere. 

If  the  temperature  of  the  whole  of  the  earth's  atmosphori 
were  raised,  atmospheric  pressure  would  be  diminished, 
for  the  simple  reason  that  the  mass  of  the  atmospherM 
would  thereby  be  removed  to  a  greater  distance  from  th^j 
earth's  centre  of  gravity.  Quite  different  result.?,  however, 
would  follow  if  the  temperature  of  orJy  a  section  of  the 
earth's  atmosphere  were  simultaneously  raised,  such  a.^  the 
section  comprised  bet%veen  long.  20°  and  60°  W.  The 
immediate  effect  would  be  an  increase  of  barometric 
pressure,  o\\-ing  to  expansion  from  the  higher  temperature ; 
and  a  subsequent  effect  would  be  the  setting  in  of  an 
ascending  current  more  or  less  powerful,  according  to  the 
differences  between  the  temperature  of  the  heated  section 
and  that  of  the  air  on  each  side.  These  are  essentially 
the  conditions  under  which  the  morning  maximum  a'^'' 
afternoon  minimum  of  atmospheric  pressure  take  place. 

The  earth  makes  a  complete  revolution  round  its  axi3 
in  twenty-four  hours,  and  in  the  same  brief  interval  the 
double-crested  and  double-troughed  atmospheric  diurna'. 
tide  makes  a  complete  circuit  of  the  globe.  The  whole  of 
the  diurnal  phenomenon  of  the  atmospheric  tides  is  there- 
fore rapidly  propagated  over  the  surface  of  the  earth  from 
east  to  west,  the  movement  being  most  rapid  in  equatorial 
regions,  and  there  the  amplitude  of  the  oscillations  ia 
greater  than  in  higher  latitudes  under  similar  atmospheric, 
astronomical,  and  geographical  conditions.  Owing  to  the 
rapidity  of  the  diurnal  heating  of  the  atmosphere  by  the 
sun  through  its  whole  height,  some  time  elapses  before  the 
higher  expansive  force  called  into  play  by  the  increase  of 
temperature  can  counteract  the  vertical  and  lateral  resist- 
ance it  meets  from  the  inertia  and  viscosity  of  the  air. 
Till  this  resistance  is  overcome,  the  barometer  continues 
to  rise,  not  because  the  mass  of  atmosphere  overhead  is 
increased,  but  because  a  higher  temperature  has  increased 
the  tension  or  pressure.  'When  the  resistance  has  been 
overcome,  an  ascending  current  of  the  -B'arra  air  sets  in,  the 
tension  begins  to  be  reduced,  and  the  barometer  falls  and 
continues  to  fall  till  the  afternoon  minimum  is  reached. 
Thus  the  forenoon  maximum  and  afternoon  minimum  are 
simply  a  temperature  effect,  the  amplitude  of  the  oscillation 
being  determined  by  latitude,  the  quantity  of  aqueous 
vapour  overhead,  and  the  sun's  place  in  the  sky. 

Vll  observations  show  that  over  the  ocean,  latitude  for 
latitude,  the  amplitude  of  the  oscillations  is  greater  in  an 
atmosphere  highly  charged  with  aqueous  vapour  and  less 
in  a  dry  atmosphere.  It  is  also  to  be  noted  that  in  very 
elevated  situations,  particularly  in  tropical  region.*,  the 
amplitude  is  greater  proportionally  to  the  whole  pressure 
than  at  lower  levels.  This  is  what  is  to  be  expected  from 
the  law  of  radiant  heat  by  which  more  of  the  heat  rays  of 
tlie  sun  is  absorbed  by  the  air,  and  particularly  by  its 
aqueous  vapour,  mass  for  mass,  in  the  higher  than  in  the 
lower  strata. 

When  the  daily  maximum  temperature  is  past,  and  the 
temperature  ha.->  begun  to  fall,  the  air  becomes  more 
condensed  in  the  lower  strata,  and  pressure  consequently 
at  great  heights  is  lowered.  Owing  to  this  lower  pressure 
in  the  upper  regions  of  the  air,  the  ascending  current 
which  rises  from  the  longitudes  where  at  the  time  the 
afternoon  pressure  is  low  flows  back  to  eastward,  thus 
increasing  the  pres-sure  over  tho.se  longitudes  where  the 
temperature  is  no^v  falling.  This  atmospheric  quasi-tidal 
moveniont  occaii.Jin  tlie  p.m.  increase  of  pressure,  which 
roachji  the  luaxiiuuiu  from  9  p.m.  to  midnight,  according 


C?CII.LATIOXs.] 


M  E  T  E  O  n  0  L  0  Cr  y 


123 


to  latit'ide  and  gcograpliical  position.  This  maximum  is 
therefore  caused  by  acrcssions  to  the  mass  of  tlio  atmosphere 
overhead,  contributed  by  the  ascending  currents  from  the 
longitudes  of  the  afternoon  low  pressure  immediately  to 
westward. 

As  midnight  and  the  early  hours  of  morping  advance, 
these  contributions  become  less  and  less  and  at  length 
cease  altogether,  and  pressure  continues  steadily  to  fall. 
But  between  the  time  when  the  increase  of  pressure  from 
tic  overflow  through  the  upper  regions  of  the  atmosphere 
ceases  and  the  time  when  pressure  increases  from  the  heat 
rays,  direct  or  indirect,  of  the  returning  sun,  or  during  the 
hours  of  the  night  when  the  effects  of  nocturnal  radia- 
tion are  the  maximum,  pressure  is  still  further  reduced 
t'roni  another  cause.  Eadiation  towards  the  cold  regions 
cf  space  takes  place,  not  only  from  the  surface  of  the 
globe,  but  also  directly  from  the  molecules  of  the  air  and 
its  aqueous  vapour.  The  effect  of  this  simultaneous  cool- 
mg  of  the  atmosphere  through  its  whole  height  is  neces- 
sarily a  diminution  of  its  tension.  Since  this  takes  place 
at  a  more  rapid  rate  than  can  be  compensated  for  by  any 
mechanical  or  tidal  movement  of  the  atmosphere  from  the 
regions  adjoining,  owing  to  the  inertia  and  viscosity  of  the 
air,  pressure  continues  to  fall  to  the  morning  minimum. 
This  minimum  is  thus  due,  not  to  the  removal  of  any  of 
the  mass  of  air  overhead,  as  happens  in  the  case  of  the 
afternoon' minimum,  but  to  a  reduction  of  the  tension  or 
pressure  of  the  air  consequent  ujxin  a  reduction  in  the 
temperature  through  radiation  from  the  aerial  molecules 
towards  the  cold  regions  of  space.  In  the  open  ocean  the 
morning  minimum  is  largest  in  the  equatorial  regions,  and 
it  diminishes  with  latitude ;  but  the  rate  of  diminution 
with  latitude  through  anticyclonic  and  other  regions  is 
generally  less  and  more  uniform  than  in  the  case  of  the 
afternoon  minimum. 

The  amplitude  and  times  of  occurrence  of  the  phases  of 
the  diurnal  barometric  tides  are  subject  to  great  modifica- 
tions over  the  Igind.  The  amjilitude  of  the  oscillation 
from  the  morning  maximum  to  the  afternoon  minimum  is 
greatest  where  the  atmosphere  is  driest  and  the  sky 
clearest,  and  least  where  the  atmosphere  is  highly  saturated 
and  the  sky  more  frequently  and  densely  covered  with 
cloud?,  being  thus  generally  the  reverse  of  what  is  observed 
to  take  jilace  over  the  open  sea.  The  meteorology  of  India 
affords  the  most  striking  illustrations  of  this  remark.  At 
Bombay  in  April  during  the  dry  atmosphere  and  clear 
skies  of  the  north-east  monsoon,  the  oscillation  is  O'llS 
inch ;  but  in  July  during  the  humid  atmosphere  and 
clouded  skies  of  the  south-west  monsoon  it  falls  to  00G7 
inch.  In  the  Punjab,  where  the  air  is  drier,  it  is  much 
greater,  rising  in  excejitional  years,  such  as  18.i2,  to  01S7 
inch.  The  much  greater  amplitude  of  this  oscillation  on 
land  as  compared  with  the  oiien  sea  is  entirely  due  to  the 
heating  of  the  earth.  By  this  heating  of  the  surface  the 
lower  strata  of  the  air  become  also  highly  heated  and  the 
tension  is  increased  ;  and,  since  the  air  docs  not  expand 
freely,  vertically  and  laterally,  from  its  inertia  and  viscosity, 
the  barometer  rises.  AHien,  however,  the  resistance  is 
tnercome,  the  ascending  current  which  sets  in  is  stronger 
owing  to  its  higher  temperature.  Since  this  liighcr 
temperature  which  has  its  origin  in  the  superheated 
surface  is  in  addition  to  the  direct  heating  of  the  air  by 
the  heat  fays  of  the  sun  as  they  i>nss  through  it,  the 
murning  maximum  and  the  afternoon  minimum  over  lanil 
.'ire  both  more  extreme  than  over  the  ojicn  sea.  It  follows 
tliat  this  oscillation  is  much  larger  over  land,  and  largest 
ill  climates  where  in.solation  is  strongest. 

In  places  alreaily  referred  to  where  the  morning  maxi- 
juiini  is  greatly  retarded,  sueh  as  Hclder,  Sitka,  Valentia, 
aud    Falmouth,  the  afternoon    minimum  in  the   summer 


months  is  singularly  small,-»-so  small  indeed  that  it  does 
not  fall  so  low  as  the  mean  pressure  of  the  day.  This 
peculiarity  in  the  diurnal  barometric  tide  is  in  all  prob- 
ability due  to  their  insular  position  to  the  westward  of 
a  more  or  less  extensive  tract  of  land,  by  which  a  tidal 
overflow  is  propagated  through  the  upper  regions  from  tho 
continental  towards  the  insular  situations.  This  tidal 
overflow  receives  its  impulse  from  tho  a.scending  current 
from  the  land,  which  rises  sooner  and  stronger  from  inland 
than  from  insular  situations.  On  the  other  hand,  on  th-j 
open  sea,  and  away  from  land  in  regions  where  the  morn- 
ing maximum  and  afternoon  minimum  are  both  small,  the 
minimum  always  falls  below  the  mean  of  the  day,  and  the 
time  of  occurrence  of  the  maximum  is  not  retarded  as  is 
the  case  in  insular  situations.  A  map  of  deviations  from 
the  daily  mean  pres.sure  of  the  morning  minimum  in 
summer  shows,  as  regards  the  middle  and  higher  latitudes, 
that  it  is  greatest  near  the  sea,  and  least  in  inland  con- 
tinental situations.  Indeed  in  the  interior  of  the  Old-World 
continent  the  dip  in  the  curve  in  the  early  morning  is  so 
small  that  the  minimum  does  not  fall  below  the  daily  mean 
pressure,  but  at  most  placeJ  remains  considerably  above  it. 
The  same  relations  are  seen  in  north-western  Europe,  where 
the  morning  minimum  is  -  0'020  inch  at  Valentia  and 
Falmouth, -0-018  inch  at  Helder,  and -0012  inch  at 
Amstt:rdam,  whilst  at  Kew  it  is  only  -  0'002  in'h.  From 
its  compact  form  and  relatioixs  to  the  surrounding  ocean, 
the  Spanish  Peninsula  well  illustrates  the  peculiarities  of 
this  phase  of  the  pressure.  The  deviations  from  the  daily 
mean  pressure  of  the  morning  minimum  are  at  Lisbon 
-  0'022  inch  and  Coirabra-0'011  inch,  but  at  Madrid 
in  the  interior  4-  0'009  inch, — pressure  in  the  last  case,  just 
as  happens  in  the  interior  of  Asia,  not  faUing  so  low  as-  tho 
daily  mean 

The  larger  mimmum  near  the  sea  arises  from  the  higner 
temperature  there  during  the  night  as  compared  with 
more  inland  situations,  from  which  results  a  tidal  overflow 
through  the  upper  regions  from  the  sea  towards  the  land, 
as  the  temperature  of  the  latter  falls  lower  than  the  sea 
during  the  night.  The  effect  of  this  overflow  is  to  reduce 
the  pressure  over  those  regions  whence  it  proceeds  and  to 
increase  it  in  those  regions  over  which  it  advances,  'the 
shallowing  of  the  morning  minimum  is  greatest  in  the 
higher  latitudes  of  continental  climates  and  most  complete 
at  great  elevations,  where  in  some  cases  the  minimum 
vanishes, — in  other  words,  where  the  amount  of  aqueous 
vapour  is  small  and  the  time  is  short  during  which  no  part 
of  the  atmosphere  overhead  is  touched  by  the  sun's  rays. 
Since  the  peculiarity  is  observable  in  the  curves  over  nearly 
the  whole  continent,  appearing  even  in  the  low  latitudes 
of  Calcutta  and  Madias,  it  might  be  suggested  whether  we 
have  not  evidence  here  of  a  vast  tidal  movement  propagated 
through  the  higher  regions  towards  that  trough-like  section 
of  the  atmosphere  as  it  moves  westwards  over  the  continent 
where  the  temperature  of  the  lower  strata  of  the  air  is 
about  the  minimum  of  the  day  and  pressure  also  about 
the  minimum. 

Reference  has  oecn  made  under  Atmospheee  to  tne 
smallness  of  the  range  from  the  x.yi.  maximum  to  the  p.m. 
minimum  in  the  North  Atlantic  during  summer.  This 
l>hase  in  the  diurnal  distribution  of  pressure  is  reju'csentfid 
in  fig.  .3,  which  shows  for  .June  the  mean  amount  of 
the  oscillation  by  hues  of  10,  20,  40,  60,  60,  and  100 
thousandths  of  an  inch,  or  0:010  inch,  0-020  inch,  ire. 
This  abnormality  begins  in  March,  attains  tho  maximum 
in  .June,  and  terminates  in  October.  It  is  thus  confined 
to  the  warmer  months  of  the  year,  and,  unlike  most 
meteorological  phenomena,  is  not  cumulative,  but  followj 
the  sun,  so  that  its  maximum  occurs  in  .lune,  and  not  in 
July  as  that  of  the  temperature  of  the  air.  or  iu  August  a-i 


124 


METEOROLOGY 


[barometbic  OSCILLATIOSa; 


the  temperatuie  of  the  sea.  The  smalhiess  of  this  range 
over  the  North  Atlantic,  which  is  less  than  occurs  in  any 
other  ocean  in  the  same  latitudes,  is  to  a  large  extent 
caused  by  the  small  dip  in  the  diurnal  curve  of  the  after- 
noon minimum. 


If  the  map  of  the  distribi;ition  of  pressure  over  the  globe 
for  July  be  examined  (fig.  17)  it  is  seen  that  this  part  of 
the  Atlantic  is  occupied  by  a  well-defined  area  of  high 
mean  pressure, — higher  indeed  than  occurs  at  any  season 
over  any  ocean ;  and  it  is  shown  below  that  out  of  this 
area  the  surface  winds  blow  in  all  directions.  But,  since 
air  is  constantly  being  drained  out  of  this  region  by 
the  wind  without  diminishing  the  pressure,  it  follows  of 
necessity  that  the  high  pressure  must  be  maintained  by 
accessions  of  air  received  from  above  through  the  upper 
currents.  Now  the  regions  whence  such  accessions  can 
come  are  the  upper  currents  which  have  their  origin  in  the 
ascending  currents  that  rise  from  the  heated  plains  of  Africa, 
Europe,  the  belt  of  calms,  and  the  two  Americas  sur- 
rounding the  North  Atlantic.  It  is  evident  that  the  major 
portion  of  each  day's  overflow  of  air  from  the  continents 
through  the  upper  regions  of  the  air  upon  the  Atlantic, 
whether  this  overflow  takes  place  by  convection  currents  or 
from  a  tidal  movement  similar  to  what  has  been  already 
described,  will  take  place  during  mid  afternoon.  In  other 
words,  the  overflow  will  occur  about  the  time  of  the  after- 
noon minimum  of  the  Atlantic,  thus  diminishing  the  dip  of 
this  minimum,  and  so  producing  the  abnormally  small  range 
now  under  examination.  It  is  in  favour  of  this  view  that 
the  abnormality  follows  the  sun's  course  and  is  not  cumula- 
tive, and  is  felt  also  on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic,  even 
although  the  weather  on  the  east  side  is  dry  and  all  but 
rainless,  and  on  the  west  moderately  moist  and  characterized 
by  a  rather  copious  rainfall.  It  is  also  full  of  significance 
that  the  peculiarity  is  most  strikingly  seen  in  that  part 
of  the  ocean  of  the  globe  which  is  closely  hemmed  in  by 
large  masses  of  land. 

Influence  of  the  Moon  on  Atmospheric  Pressure. — Fifteen 
years'  hourly  observations  have  been  made  at  Batavia  and 
discussed  by  the  late  Dr  Bergsma  in  their  relation  to  the 
lunar  day,  which  was  assumed  in  tjie  calculations  to  com- 
mence with  the  time  of  the  upper  transit  of  the  moon.  The 
result  of  the  inquiry  is  that  atmospheric  pressure  at  Batavia 
has  a  lunar  tide  quite  as  distinctly  marked  as  the  ordinary 
diurnal,  baromutric  tide,  except  that  its  amplitude  is  much 
lei.s.     The  four  phases  arc  these  : — 

1st  max.  -f  0'0022  inch  at  lunar  hour   1 
1st  luin.  -0-0021     ,,  ,,         ,,       7 

2d  max.  -f  0-0025     , 13 

2d  min.  -00024     „  ,,         „     19 

The  lunar  tide  has  the  important  iliiference  that  its  phases 
follow  the  moon's  apparent  course  miich  more  closely  than 
the  ordinary  diurnal  fluctuations  of  the  barometer  follow 
that  of  the  sun.  The  two  maxima  occur  about  the  1st  and 
13th,  and  the  two  minima  about  the  7th  and  19l>h,  whereas 
these  four  daily  phases  of  the  diurnal  barometric  fluctua- 
tion occur  with  respect  to  Jthe  sun's  apparent  course  from 


one  to  six  hours  later.  It  is  interesting  to  note  that  in  the 
higher  latitudes  in  inland  situations  during  \\'inter,  or  at 
times  and  in  situations  where  the  disturbing  influences  of 
temperature  and  humidity  tend  towards  a  minimum,  the 
times  of  occurrence  of  the  four  phases  of  the  daily  o.scilla- 
tiou  of  the  barometor  approximate  to  those  of  the  daily 
iunar  atmospheric  tide. 

Since  a  distinct  lunar  tide  is  traced  to  the  attractive 
influence  of  the  moon,  it  follows  that  the-  attractive 
inlluenco  of  the  sun  v.i\\  enter  as  one  of  the  several  causes 
■which  determine  the  phases  and  amplitude  of  the  diurnal 
barometric  curve.  It  also  follows  from  the  much  less 
attractive  influence  of  the  sun  than  that  of  the  moon  on 
the  earth's  atmosphere  that  the  effects  of  the  sun's  attrac- 
tion on  the  pressure  -will  be  wholly  concealed  by  the  much 
larger  effects  of  the  other  forces  concerned  in  determining 
t)ie  diurnal  oscillation,  except  in  the  case  or  cases  where 
the  variation  in  the  fluctuation  is  small  at  1  and  7  a.m. 
and  1  and  7  p.m.  Now  at  places  north  of  lat.  45*N.  the 
variation  at  1  a.m.  is  small  during  the  winter,  and  it  is  a 
singular  fact  that  some  years  ago  Kykatchew  of  St 
Petersburg  drew  the  attention  of  meteorologists  to  the 
existence  at  these  northern  stations  of  a  faintly  marked 
third  maximum  ;  and  it  is  further  of  importance  to  remark 
that,  at  many  places  where  on  the-mean  of  years  the  third 
maximum  is  scarcely  or  not  at  all  marked,  it  appears  in 
the  mean  of  some  of  the  separate  years.  Thus,  though  it 
does  not  appear  in  the  mean  of  the  twenty  years  ending 
1873  at  Green-wich  for  January,  it  appears  in  nine  of  the 
individual  years.  It  is  highly  probable  that  this  maxi- 
mum, which  may  be  named  Rykatchew's  ma.ximum  from 
its  discoverer,  is  due  to  the  attractive  influence  of  the  sun, 
its  ampUtude  and  time  of  occurrence  being  in  accordance 
■with  such  a  supposition. 

Diurnal  Variation  of  the  Force  of  the  Wind. — During 
the  three  and  a  half  years'  cruise  of  the  "Challenger," 
ending  vrith  May  1876,  observations  of  the  force  anil 
direction  of  the  wind  were  made  on  1202  days,  at  least 

AW     .        .        ,  K    PM  M 


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1 

-Diurnal  Force  of  ■Wind  at  Sea  and  i 


twelve  times  each  day, — 650  of  the  days  being  on  the  open 
sea  and  552  near  land.  The  observations  of  force  ^■■er9 
made  on  Beaufort's  scale  0-12,  being  the  scale  of  wind- 
force  observed  at  sea.  The  mean  diurnal  force  of  the 
wind  on  the  open  sea  and  near  laud  respectively  is  showu 


WTKD   FORCE.] 

in  fig.  4,  where  the  figures  on  the  left  are  iJcaulort'.s  scale, 
and  those  on  the  right  the  equivalents  in  miles  per  hour. 
The  solid  line  shows  at  the  different  hours  of  the  day 
the  meair  force  on  the  open  sea,  and  the  dotted  line  the 
mean  force  near  land. 

As  regards  the  open  sea  it  is  seen  that  the  diurnal 
variation  is  exceedingly  small,  there  being  two  apparent 
slight  maxima,  about  midday  and  midnight  respectively. 
On  examining,  however,  the  separate  means  for  the  North 
and  South  4tlantic,  North  and  South  Pacific,  and  the 
Southern  Ocean,  there  is  no  uniform  agreement  observable 
among  tbcir  ciures,  the  slight  variations  which  are  met 
with  being  djJierent  in  each  case.  It  follows  therefore 
that  the  force  of  the  winds  on  the  open  sea  is  subject  to 
no  distinct  and  uniform  diurnal  variation.  The  difference 
between  the  hour  of  least  and  greatest  mean  force  is  less 
than  a  mile  per  hour. 

Quite  different  is  it,  however,  ■with  the  winds  encountered 
by  the  "Challenger"  near  land,  the  force  of  the  wind 
there  giving  a  curve  as  pronouncedly  marked  as  the 
ordinary  diurnal  curve  of  temperature.  The  minimum 
occurs  at  2  to  4  a.m.  and  the  maximum  from  noon  to  4 
P.M.,  the  absolute  highest  being  at  2  p.m.  The  curves 
constructed  for  each  of  the  five  oceans  from  the  observa- 
tions near  land  give  one  and  the  same  result,  or  a  curve 
closely  accordant  with  the  curve  of  diurnal  temperature. 
The  differences  between  the  hours  of  least  and  greatest 
force  are  as  follows : — Southern  Ocean  6}  miles,  South 
Pacific  4i  miles,  South  Atlantic  3J  mifes,  and  North 
Atlantic  and  North  Pacific  3  miles  per  hour. 

In  the  case  of  each  ocean  the  velocity  of  the  ■mnd  on 
the  open  sea  is  considerably  in  excess  of  that  near  land, 
but  in  no  case  does  the  maximum  velocity  near  land, 
attained  about  midday,  reach  the  velocity  of  the  wind  on 
the  open  sea.  The  650  daily  observations  on  the  open  sea 
give  a  mean  hourly  velocity  of  17|  miles,  whereas  the  552 
near  land  give  a  velocity  of  only  12|  miles  per  hour.  The 
difference  is  greatest  at  4  a.m.,  when  it  amounts  to  upwards 
of  6  miles  an  hour,  but  is  diminished  by  the  rising  tem- 
l)erature  till  at  2  p.m.  it  is  less  than  3  miles  an  hour. 

At  Mauritius,  which  is  situated  within  the  south-east  trades,  the 
minimum  velocity  of  the  wind  is  9  '7  miles  per  hour,  occurring  from 
2  to  8  A.M.,  from  which  it  rises  to  the  maximum  18  5  miles  from 
l.to2  P.M.,  the  influence  of  the  sun  being  thus  to  double  the  wind's 
velocity.  At  Batavia,  situated  in  a  region  where  the  mean  baro- 
metric gradient  is  much  smaller,  the  differences  are  still  more  de- 
cided. From  1  to  6  AM.  85  per  cent,  of  the  whole  of  the  obser- 
vations are  calms,  whereas  from  noon  to  2  p.m.  only  1  per  cent, 
are  culms.  In  all  months,  the  minimum  velocity  occurs  in  the 
early  morning,  when  the  temperature  is  lowest,  and  the  maximum 
from  1  to  8  P.M.,  when  the  temperature  is  highest,  the  mean 
miuimum  and  maximum  velocities  being  to  each  other  as  1  to  21. 
At  Coimbra  the  mean  maximum  hourly  velocit)'  is  five  times 
greater  than  the  miuimum  hourly  velocity  in  summer,  whereas  in 
wintci-  it  is  only  about  a  half  more.  At  Talentia,  in  the  south- 
west of  Ireland,  one  of  the  windiest  situations  in  western  Europe, 
the  three  .summer  months  of  1878  gave  a  mean  hourly  velocity  of 
13 '3  miles  per  hour,  the  minimum  oscillating  from  10  to  11  miles 
an  hour  from  9  p.m.  to  6  a.m.,  and  the  maximum  exceeding  16 
miles  an  hour  from  11  A. M.  to  5  p.m.  The  absolute  lowest  hourly 
mean  was  10  miles  at  11  P.M.,  and  the  highest  18  miles  at  1  p.m., 
the  velocity  about  midday  being  thus  nearly  double  that  of  the 
night.  Many  observations  might  be  added  to  these,  including 
those  jmblished  by  Hann,  Koppen,  Hamber^,  and  others,  which  go 
to  establish  the  fact  that  the  curves  of  the  diurnal  variation  of  the 
velocity  of  the  wind  generally  conform  to  the  diurnal  curves  of 
tepjperature.  The  cun-es  are'  most  strongly  marked  during  the 
hottest  months  ;  and  the  maximum  velocity  occurs  at  1  P.M.  or 
shortly  thereafter,  being  thus  before  the  time  of  occurrence  of  the 
maximum  temperature  of  the  day,  and  the  minimum  in  the  early 
morning,  or  about  the  time  when  the  temperature  falls  to  the 
lowest.  The  rule  also  holds  good  with  all  winds,  whatever  be  their 
direction.  The  exceptions  to  this  rule  are  so  few  and  of  snch  a 
kind  that  they  are  probably  to  be  attributed  to  causes  more  or 
lees  of  a  local  character. 

Hann  has  shown,  for  a  number  of  places  in  northern  Europe,  tliat 
with  a  clear  sky  the  velocity  is  doubled  from  the  minimum  to  the 


METEOROLOGY 


125 

noaximum,  with  a  sity  half  covered  the  velocity  is  threcfourtha 
greater,  and  with  a  sky  wholly  covered  the  velocity  is  only  a  haU 
more.  On  the  other  hand  at  the  strictly  inland  situation  of  Vienna, 
with  a  clear  sky  the  velocity  is  double,  and  with  a  sky  half  covered 
it  is  two-thirds  gieater,  bat  with  a  covered  sky  the  diui-nal  varia- 
tion in  the  wincTs  velocitj-  becomes  irregular  and  faintly  marked. 
Hann  has  also  examined  the  w  inda  at  Vienna,  and  found  that  winds 
j  of  a  velocity  not  exceeding  30  kilometres  an  hour  show  a  mean 
I  diurnal  increase  from  11  kilometres  at  6  a.m.  to  168  at  1  p.m.,  but 
!  that  winds  of  velocity  exceeding  30  kilometres  an  hour  exliibit  only 
!  a  faintly  marked  and  irregular  increase  of  velocity  during  the  day. 
j  In  offering  an  explanation  of  this  remarkable  fact  regard- 
I  ing  the  diurnal  variation  in  the  velocity  of  the  wind  in  all 
climates,  it  is  to  be  remarked  that  the  minimum  velocity 
occurs  when  terrestrial  radiation  and  its  effects  are  greatest, 
but  the  increase  of  the  velocity  closely  follows  the  sun, 
and  the  maximum  is  reached  nearer  the  time  the  sun 
crosses  the  meridian  than  perhaps  any  of  the  other  maxima 
or  minima  of  meteorology  which  are  dependent  on  the 
sun's  diurnal  course.  It  is  also  to  be  noted  that  the  ivinds 
over  the  open  sea  are  practically  vminfluenced  by  solar 
and  terrestrial  radiation,  for  there  the  diurnal  curve  of 
variation  in  the  force  of  the  \\'iiid  is  all  but  a  straight  line. 
On  Hearing  land,  however,  the  wind's  force  exhibits  a 
diurnal  curve  of  variation  as  distinctly  marked  as,  and 
bearing  a  close  resemblance  to,  the  analogous  curve  of 
temperature ;  while  on  the  land  itself  these  features 
become  still  more  decidedly  pronounced.  Lastly,  the 
amount  of  the  diurnal  variation  of  the  temperature  gi  the 
surface  of  the  sea  is  less  than  a  degree,  whereas  over  all 
land  surfaces  the  diurnal  variation  of  the  temperature  is 
large,  even  where  the  ground  is  covered  by  vegetation,  and 
enormously  large  over  sandy  wastes. 

From  this  it  follows  that,  so  far  as  concerns  any  direct 
influence  on  the  air  itself,  solar  and  terrestrial  radiation 
exercise  no  influence  on  the  diurnal  increase  of  the  velocity 
of  the  air  with  the  increase  of  its  temperature, — or,  if  any 
influence  at  all,  such  influence  must  be  altogether  insig- 
nificant, as  is  conclusively  shown  by  the  wind  observations 
of  the  "  Challenger  "  over  each  of  the  five  great  oceans  of 
the  globe.  The  same  observations  show  that  on  nearing 
land  the  wind  is  everywhere  greatly  reduced  in  force. 
The  retardation  is  greatest  during  the  hours  when  the  daily 
temperature  is  at  the  minimum ;  and  it  is  particularly  to 
be  noted  that,  though  the  temperature  rises  considerably, 
no  marked  increase  in  the  velocity  sets  in  till  about  9  a.m., 
when  the  temperature  has  begun  to  rise  above  the  daily 
mean.  From  this  time  the  increase  is  rapid  (see  fig.  4) ; 
the  maximum  is  reached  shortly  after  the  period  of  strongest 
insolation ;  and  the  velocity  falls  a  little  (but  only  a  little) 
during  the  next  three  to  five*  hour.?,  according  to  season, 
latitude,  and  position,  and  falls  again  to  near  the  minimum 
shortly  after  the  hour  when  the  temperature  is  at  the 
mean.  Even  at  the  maximum,  the  velocity  near  land 
falls  considerably  short  of  the  velocity  which  is  steadily 
maintained  over  the  open  sea  by  night  as  well  as  by  day. 

The  period  of  the  day  when  the  wind's  velocity  is  in- 
creased is  practically  limited  to  the  hours  when  the  tempera- 
ture is  above  the  daily  mean,  and  the  influence  of  this 
higher  temperature  is  to  counteract  to  some  extent  the  re- 
tardation of  the  wind's  velocity  resulting  from  friction  and 
from  the  viscosity  of  the  air.  The  increase  in  the  diurnal 
velocity  of  the  wind  is  in  all  probability  due  to  the  super- 
heating of  the  surface  of  the  ground  and  to  the  consequent 
ascensional  movement  of  the  air,  tending  to  counteract  the 
effect  of  friction  and  of  viscosity  between  the  lowermost 
stratum  of  the  air  and  the  ground.  It  is  of  importance 
in  this  connexion  to  keep  in  view  the  fact  that  in  cloudy 
weather  a  temperature  much  higher  than  might  have  been 
supposed  is  often  radiated  from  the  clouds  down  upon  the 
earth's  surface,'  which  accounts  for  the  phenomenon  of  the 


'  Journal  of  Scottish  Meteorological  Societi/,  vol.  ii.  p.  280. 


126 


METEOROLOGY 


[WIKD  r-IEECTIuS, 


diurnal  rariation  in  the  wind's  volocity  occurring  frequently 
also  in  cloudy  vrcather.  On  the  other  hand,  during  the 
night,  when  terrestrial  radiation  is  proceeding,  the  tempera- 
ture of  the  surface  falls  greatly,  and  instead  of  an 
ascensional  movement  in  the  lower  stratum  of  the  air  there 
is  rather  a  tendency  towards  a  descensional  movement  (if 
the  wind  be  light  there  is  an  actual  movement)  of  the 
lowest  air  stratum  down  the  slopes  of  the  country ;  and 
since  the  friction  between  the  wind  and  the  surface  of 
the  earth  is  thereby  increased  the  diurnal  velocity  of  the 
wind  falls  to  the  minimum  during  these  hours  (see  also 
p.  ISG). 

Among  the  most  marked  exceptions  to  the  general  rule 
of  the  diurnal  distribution  of  wind  force  may  be  cited  the 
bitterly  cold  furious  blasts  of  wind  encountered  in  narrow 
valleys  in  such  mountainous  regions  as  the  Alps  during 
clear  and  comparatively  calm  nights.  These  are  simply 
the  out-rush  of  the  cold  air  poured  into  the  upper  basins 
of  the  valleys  by  the  descensional  currents  from  the  slopes 
which  the  chilling  effects  of  ■  terrestrial  radiation  set  in 
motion.  On  the  other  hand;  the  air  of  the  valleys  becomes 
jheated  and  expands  during  the  day,  thus  giving  rise  to  a 
[Warm  wind  tilowing  up  the  valJeys,  which,  on  accoimt  of 
the  vapour  it  carries  with  it  from  the  lower  levels,  fre- 
quently covers  the  higher  slopes  and  tons  of  the  mountains 
with  cloud  and  drizzling  rain. 

Diurnal  Variation  in  the  Diredi/m  of  tlie  Wind. — In  all 
climates  near  seas  and  other  large  sheets  of  water,  where 
the  distribution  of  atmospheric  pressure  is  tolerably  equable, 
or  the  barometric  gradient  small,  and  the  sun  heat 
moderately  strong,  land  and  sea  breezes  are  of  daily 
occurrence.  In  such  places  a  breeze  from  the  sea  gradually 
sets  in  in  the  morning,  which  gradually  rises  to  a  stiff 
breeze  during  the  heat  of  the  day  and  again  towards 
evening  sinks  to  a  calm.  Soon  after  this  a  breeze  sets  in 
from  the  land,  blows  strongly  seaward  during  the  night, 
and  dies  away  in  the  morning,  giving  place  to  the  sea 
l^reese  as  before.  These  breezes  are  occasioned  by  the 
fciurface  of  the  land  being  heated  in  a  much  higher  degi'ee 
than  that  of  the  sea  during  the  day  ;  the  air  over  the  land 
being  thereby  made  lighter  ascends,  and  its  place  is 
supplied  by  the  cooler  air  of  the  sea  breeze  drawn  land- 
ward, and  parti}'  also  by  descending  currents,  as  shown 
by  the  humidity  observations  of  the  "  Challenger,"  which 
indicate  increasing  dryness  when  the  sea  breeze  is  strongest. 
Again  during  the  night  the  temperature  of  the  land  and 
of  the  air  over  it  falls  below  that  of  the  sea,  and  the  air  of 
the  land  thus  becoming  heavier  and  denser  flows  over  the 
sea  as  a  land  breeze.  As  the  best-marked  and  most  fre- 
quently occurring  cases  of  the  sea  breeze  begin  some 
distance  out  at  sea  and  gradually  approach  the  land,  it  is 
veiy  probable  that,  as  suggested  by  Blanford,  the  ascend- 
ing heated  air  flows  seaward  as  an  upper  current,  and  that 
the  increased  barometric  gradient  thus  caused  largely 
accounts  for  these  breezes. 

Sea  and  land  breezes  are  tlma  determined  by  the  relative  posi-  . 
tions  of  the  land  and  its  coasts,  subject  to  a  further  modificatiori  ' 
arising  from  the  rotation  of  the  earth,  Tims  on  the  coast  of  the  ' 
Gulf  of  Lyons  the  sea  breeze  from  the  south  veers  to  sonth-west  ' 
and  dies  away  as  a  west  wind,  while  the  land  hicczo  from  tlie  north  ' 
gradually  veers  to  nortli-east  and  dies  away  as  an  cast  vnnd.  On  [ 
flic  coast  of  Algeria,  on  the  other  hand,  the  sea  brep/e  veers  from  I 
north  to  north-east  and  dies  away  in  the  east,  whereas  the  south  ' 
land  breeze  veers  to  south-west  and  dies  away  in  tlie  west.  Sea  ' 
breezes  also  occur  iu  such  unsettled  climates  as  that  of  Scotland,  I 
when  the  weathoj  conditions  arc  favourable.  These  conditions  are 
presented  when  an  anticyclone  overspreads  the  country,  with  its 
accompanying  fine  settled  weather,  small  variation  in  the  distri- 
bution of  atmospheric  pressure,  clear  skies,  and  consequently  strong  I 
tunshine.  Under  these  conditions  the  following  are  trie  vecriuf:^  of  I 
the  wind  off  the  coast  of  Berwioksbiro.  Iu  tlie  momiug  the  wind  is  | 
north- wcit  till  about  .10  A.ii.,  when  it  veers  to  north,  falling  all  tlio  i 
time  til]  finally  it  sdnke  to  a  calm.     A  little  before  noon  it  springs  up 


from  north-east  or  ca<it,  veal's  to  south-east  from  2  to  a  p.m.,  where 
it  continues  till  7  p.m.,  about  which  time  it  veers  to  south  aud  theQ 
south-west, diminishing  in  force  and  finallysinking  to  a  calm.  Alwut 
sunset  it  springs  up  irom  west,  veering  to  north-west  during  tlic 
night,  where  it  continues  till  tlie  following  morning.  The  wind  thus 
virtually  makes  the  round  of  the  compass,  is  strongest  from  north- 
west and  south-east  and  weakest  at  north-east  and  south-west,  being 
thus  strongest  when  its  coui-so  is  perpendicular  to  the  line  of  coast. 

The  observations  made  by  the  "  Challenger  "  in  the  i-emon  of  the 
north-east  trades  in  1873  show  a  small  diunial  variation  in  the 
direction  of  the  wind,  the  variation  being  from  E.  47"  5'  N.  at  2 
to  6  A.M.  to  E.  56"  N.  at  10  a.m.  to  2  p.m.,  the  variation  being 
thus  8"  55'  towards  north  durinof  the  hottest  hours  of  the  day.  At 
Mauritius  observatory,  wliich  is  several  miles  from  the  sea,  tha 
daily  period  in  the  direction  of  the  wind  is  from  E.  22°  15'  S. 
at  4  A.M.,  being  the  most  southerly  point,  to  E.  7^  S.  at  I  P.M., 
and  thence  back  to  E.  22°  15'  S.  at  4  A.M.  Tlie  diurnal  varia- 
tion is  15°  15',  and  thus  the  hifluence  of  the  sun  imprer,se3  on  tho 
wind  at  this  observatory  a  more  truly  easterly  character. 

At  the  Austrian  naval  station  at  Pola,  near  the  head  of  the 
Adriatic,  the  daily  variation  in  the  uirection  of  the  wind  ia  weli- 
markei  Starting  from  a  point  eait  of  south  at  5  a.m.,  it  gradually 
veers  round  to  westward,  the  most  westerly  point,  almo.st  due  west, 
being  reached  at  5  to  6  p.m.,  after  which  it  gradually  shifts  back  to- 
ils starting  point  in  the  morning.  Here  we  have  evidently  a  diarzial 
wind-system  different  from  that  of  the  land  and  the  sea  breeze. 
Pola  is  situated  near  the  south-western  extremity  of  the  peninsula 
of  Istria,  and  the  direction  in  the  early  morning  of  east  by  south  in 
the  direction  the  wind  would  take  if  a  small  anticyclone  oversjH-ead 
the  peninsula  ;  and  the  direction  from  the  west  iu  mid  afternooQ 
is  the  direction  the  wind  would  have  at  Pola  if  the  peninsula  weru 
occupied  by  a  small  cyclone  with  the  lowest  pressure  in  the  centre. 
Now  the  influence  of  solar  radiation  is  to  form,  through  ths 
ascending  current  from  the  heated  land,  a  diminution  of  i>ressure 
over  the  land, — in  other  words,  what  is  essentially  a  cyclone.  On 
the  other  hand,  during  the  night  the  influence  of  terrestrial  radia- 
tion is  to  generate,  through  the  cooling  of  the  laud  and  the  air 
resting  above  it,-  a  relatively  higher  atmospheric  pressure  iu  tho 
interior  of  the  peninsula  with  its  characteristic  system  of  out- 
blowing  winds.  ^ 

At  Coiuibra,  in  July  1878,  the  diurnal  variation  of  the  wind's  direc- 
tion was  from  W.  49°  37'  N.  at  2  to  6  a.m.  to  W.  33'  16'  N. 
at  4  to  6  P.M.,  the  amount  of  the  variation  being  thus  16"  22*  in  t!io 
direction  of  west.  At  Valentia,  in  the  south-west  of  Ireland,  durin.^ 
the  summer  months  of  1878  the  diurnal  variation  of  tho  wind's 
direction  was  from  W.  by  S.  at  7  to  9  a.m.  to  S.W.  by 
W.  at  5  to  7  p.m.  The  variation  was  thus  from  a  point  nearly 
south  to  a  point  nearly  south-west,  or  through  nearly  45* 
in  tho  direction  of  west  On  tho  otlier  hand,  at  Al>erdeen 
during  the  same  months  of  1878,  the  diurnal  variation  of  the 
wind's  direction  was  from  S.W.  at  6  to  7  a.m.  to  S.  by  E.  at  12 
to  4  P.M.,  the  variation  being  thus  56"  from  south-wciit  iu  the 
direction  of  east  through  south.  Attention  is  here  drawn  to  tbo 
exactly  opposite  ways  \n  which  the  diurnal  veering  or  shifting  of 
the  wind  takes  places  at  Valentia  and  Aberdeen,  hut  i>articularly  to 
the  important  circumstance  that  in  each  case  the  diunial  changes 
in  the  wind's  direction  which  actually  occur  ai-e  precisely  ihase  tliat 
would  take  place  on  the  supposition  that  during  the  hottest  Ituura 
of  the  day  an  ascensional  movement  of  the  air  sets  in  from  tho 
heated  lands  of  the  British  Islands,  and  that  an  in-di-au'^ht  takes 
place  all  round,  wluch  with  the  descending  currents  makes  good 
the  loss  caused  by  the  up-draught.  Thus  then  both  the  diurnal 
increase  in  the  wind's  velocity  and  the  change  in  its  direction 
which  observation  shows  to  take  place  during  the  hottest -hours  of 
the  day  are  traced  to  tho  same  cause,  viz.,  the  heating  of  tho 
sm'faee  by  the  sun,  the  licating  of  the  lowest  stratum  of  air  resting 
on  the  surface,  and  the  ascensional  movements  which  are  tho  neces- 
sary result. 

It  is  instructive  to  note  that  at  Nukuss,  at  some  distance  to  the 
south  of  tho  Sea  of  Aral,  where  the  summer  direction  of  tlie  wii.-l  i.-i 
northerly,  tho  north  component  is  at  the  daily  maximum  at  4  p.m., 
having  shifted  into  this  direction  from  north-east,  where  it  is  at 
9  A.M.  Much  or  nearly  cvorytliin^  remains  to  bo  done  in  working 
out  this  problem  in  its  practical  details  as  one  of  the  imiM>;tant 
elements  of  climatology,  with  tho  view  of  airiviug  at  some  doliuit« 
knowledge  of  tho  influence  of  physical  configuration  and  dilferent 
vcffetahle  coverinpa  of  tho  surface  ou  radiation  and  on  the  velocity 
and  direction  of  the  wind. 

Diurnal  Variation  in  tJte  Amount  of  Cloud. — ^lists  and 
fogs  are  visible  vapours  floating  in  the  air  near  tho  surface 
of  the  earth,  and  clouds  are  visible  vapours  at  a  cousider- 
able  height.  These  fonns.of  visible  vapour  are  all  produced 
by  wliatever  lowers  the  temperature  of  the  air  below  the 
dew  point, — such  as  radiation  from  the  molecules  of  the 
atmosphere  towards  the  cold  regions  of  space,  the  simpl* 


CLori).] 


METEOROLOGY 


127 


expansion  of  llie  air  of  ascending  CTirrerits,  the  mixing  of 
cdld  air  iritli  air  that  is  warm  and  moist,  and  tlie  cooling 
of  tlie  air  in  contact  with  tlie  surface  of  the  caith  when  its 
tcmperaturo  has  been  lowered  by  nocturnal  radiation. 

The  forms  of  clouds  are  endless.  Since  clouds  are 
subject  to  certain  distinct  modifications  from  the  same 
causes  which  produce  other  atmospheric  phenomena,  the 
face  of  the  sky  may  bo  regarded  as  indicating  the  operation 
of  these  causes,  just  as  the  face  of  man  indicates  his  mental 
and  physical  states.  Hence  the  importance  of  the  study 
(if  clouds,  and  hence  the  necessity  of  a  nomenclature  of 
clouds  as  the  basis  of  accurate  and  comparable  observations. 
Ah  adequate  nomenclature  of  clouds  is  still  a  desideratum. 
Luke  Howard's  classification,  which  continues  to  hold  its 
ground  as  a  provisional  nomenclature,  was  proposed  ■  by 
him  in  1803,  and  by  it  clouds  are  considered  as  divided 
into  seven  kinds.  Of  these,  three  are  simple  forms,  the 
cirrus,  the  cumulus,  and  the  strattis ;  and  four  intermediate 
or  compound,  the  cirro-cumultis,  the  cirro-stratui,  the 
eumulostratus.  and  the  aimulo-ctrrostratm,  nimbus,  or  rain 
tlovd. 

The  cirrus  cloud  consists  of  wavy,  parallel,  or  divergent 
filaments,  which  may  increase  in  any  or  all  directions.  It 
is  tile  cloud  of  the  least  density,  the  greatest  elevation,  and 
the  greatest  variety  of  figure.  It  is  probable  that  the 
liarticles  composing  it  are  minute  crystals  of  ice  or  snow- 
tlakes.  The  cirrus  is  intimately  connected  vriih  the  great 
movements  of  the  atmosphere ;  and  it  is  solely  from  the 
movements  of  the  cirrus  that  we  have  any  direct  know- 
ledge .of  the  upper  currents  of  the  atmosphere.  In  recent 
years  much  has  been  done,  particularly  by  Professor 
Hildebrandsson  of  Upsala  and  Clement  Ley,  in  investi- 
gating the  relations  of  this  cloud  to  storms  and  other 
changes  of  weather. 

The  cumulus  is  the  name  appuea  to  those  convex  or 
conical  heaps  of  clouds  which  increase  upwards  from  a 
horizontal  base.  They  are  generally  of  a  very  dense 
f.tructure,  are  formed  in  the  lower  regions  of  the  atmo- 
sjihere,  and  are  carried  along  by  the  aerial  current  next 
the  earth.  They  form  the  tops  of  the  ascending  currents 
which  rise  from  the  heated  ground,  and  have  a  diurnal 
period  so  well  marked  that  they  are  often  named  the 
"cloud  of  the  day."  The  form  of  stratus  comprehends' 
those  mists  and  fogs  which  in  the  calm  evening  of  a  warm 
summer  day  make  their  appearance  in  the  bottom  of  valleys 
and  over  low-lying  grounds,  and  sometimes  spread  upwards 
ovei  the  surrounding  country  like  an  inundation ;  they 
have  an  equally  well  marked  daily  period,  and  are 
frequently  called  the  "cloud  of  night.''  The  cirro- 
cumulus  is  made  up  of  small  roundish  masses,  lying  near 
each  other,  and  quite  separated  by  intervals  of  sky.  It 
may  be  considered  as  formed  from  the  cirrus  by  the  fibres 
of  tha.  cloud  breaking,  as  it  were,  and  collapsing  into 
roundish  masses,  thus  destroying  the  texture  but  retaining 
the  arrangement  of  that  cloud.  This  singularly  beautiful 
cloud  is  commonly  known  as  a  mackerel  sky,  and  is  of 
most  frequent  occunence  during  dry  warm  summer  weather. 
The  cirro-stratus  consists  of  horizontal  masses  thinned 
towards  the  circumference,  bent  downwards  or  undulat- 
ing, and  either  separate  or  in  groups.  Since  this  cloud 
lias  great  extent  and  continuity  of  substance,  but  little 
perpendicular  depth  or  thickness,  it  is  the  cloud  which 
most  frequently  fulfils  the  conditions  for  the  phenomena 
of  coronae,  solar  and  lunar  halos,  parhelia  or  mock  suns, 
and  paraselenie  or  mock  moons.  The  cumulo-stratus 
is  formed  by  the  cirro-stratus  blending  with  the  cumulus, 
or  spreading  underneath  it  as  a  horizontal  layer  of  vapour. 
Tke  cumulo-cirro-stratus,  or  nimbus,  is  the  well-known 
laincloud,  which  consists  of  a  cloud  or  system  of  clouds 
iiom  which  rain  is  falling.     At  a  considerable  height  a 


sheet  of  cirro-stratus  clond  is  extended,  unacr  whfcfi 
cumulus  clouds  drift  from  windward ;  these  rapidly  in* 
■  creasing  unite  and  appear  to  foiTn  one  continuous  grey 
mass  from  which  the  rain  falls.  '  The  breaking  up  of  the 
lower  grey  mass  indicates  'that  the  rain  will  soon  cease. 
■When  a  rain-cloud  is  seen  at  a  distance,  cirri  appear  to 
shoot  out  from  its  top  in  all  directions;  and  it  is  observed 
that  the  more  copious  t'lo  rainfall  the  greater  is  the  dis- 
play of  cirri.  The  cirrus,  cirro-cumulus,  cirro-stratus, 
cumulo-stratus,  and  nimbus  are  connected  more  or  less 
closely  with  the  great  atmospheric  movements  of  the 
cyclone  and  anticyclone.  In  what  follows  here  only  the 
amount  of  sky  covered  will  be  taken  into  account,  and  not 
the  .species  of  clond  covering. 

The  diurnal  variation  in  the  amount  of  cloud  in  the  sKy 
on  the  open,  sea  is  very  small.  •'  The  following  are  the  means 
of  two  hundred  and  seventy-seven  days'  observations  on 
board  the  "  Challenger,"  stated  in  percentages  of  sky 
covered  : — 

2  a.m.  59  10  a.m.  tii)  I  6r.M.  57 

i    „     69  Noon    56  !  8     „      67 

a    „     62  2  P.M.   58  I         10     „     67 

8    „     62  „      59  I       Midnight  57 

Two  maxima  are  here  indicated,  the  one  about  or  shortly 
after  sunrise  and  the  other  in  the  early  part  of  the 
afternoon ;  and  two  minima,  the  one  at  noon  and  the  other 
from  sunset  to  midnight.  The  difference  between  the 
extremes  is  only  6  per  cent,  of  the  sky. 

At  Batavia  the  daily  maximum  is  from  6  to  11  P.M.,  and  the 
minimum  from  8  to  11  a  m.,  the  extremes  being  52  per  cent,  at 
9  a.m.  and  69  per  cent,  at  7  P.M., — a  difference  of  17  percent.  Of 
four  daily  observations  at  Mauritius,  the  maximum  is  50  per  cent, 
at  1  P.M.  and  the  minimum  38  per  cent,  at  6  a.m.  At  Cpimbra, 
obstrvations  of  clouds  have  been  made  five  times  daily,  and  six 
years'  results  give  the  maximum  63  per  cent,  at  9  p.m.  and  the 
minimum  62  per  cent,  at  9  A.M.  At  this  place,  during  July  and 
August,  the  greatest  amount  of  cloud  occurs  at  6  P.M.,  and  in  these 
months  the  rainfall  at  Coimbra  is  very  small.  The  minimum  is 
more  pronounced  at  9  a.m.  than  at  any  other  period ;  in  winter 
tliis  (ihase  occurs  about  four  hom-s  later.  At  the  continental 
situation  of  Vienna,  during  the  warm  months  of  the  year  the  maxi- 
mum is  at  2  P.M.,  with  a  secondary  maximum  about  6  A.M.,  and 
the  minimum  from  10  P.M.  to  2  a.m.  ;  but  dm-ing  the  cold  months 
the  maximum  is  at  6  a.m.  and  the  minimiim  during  the  evening 
and  night.  In  the  Rocky  Mountains,  the  chief  maximum,  57  per 
cent.,  is  at  3  p.m.,  with  a  secondary  one  30  per  cent,  at  5  A.M.;  and 
the  chief  mininmm  20  at  3  A.M.  and  a  secondary  one  29  at  11  P.M. 
At  Ilelbiiigfors  the  maximum  of  cloud  occm"sfrom  10  a.m.  to  2  P.M.,' 
and  the  minimum  from  10  P.M.  to  2  a.m. 

Much  yet  remains  to  be  done  with  regard  to  me 
determination  of  the  diurnal  variation  of  cloud,  but  from 
the  above  one  or  two  deductions  of  a  general  character 
may  be  drawn.  A  maximum  occurs  in  the  rnorning  and 
continues  till  shortly  after  the  sun  has  risen,  and  this 
maximum  is  more  decidedly  pronounced  over  the  open  .sea 
than  over  land.  Its  appearance  is  without  a  doubt  due  to 
the  general  cooling  of  the  atmosphere  through  its  whole 
height  by  terrestrial  radiation,  and  its  disappearance  to 
the  heating  of  the  air,  which  commences  about  sunrise. 
Then  follows  one  of  the  diurnal  miruma,  which  continues 
till  midday,  or  a  little  later ;  in  other  words,  it  continues 
till,  owing  to  the  diurnal  heating  of  the  aii-  by  the  sun, 
the  ascending  current  has  fairly  set  in.  The  period  of 
this  ascending  current  marks  the  second  maximum,  which 
during  the  warmer  months  is  larger  than  the  morning 
maximum  over  land.  The  cumulus  is  the  characteristic 
cloud  of  this  maximum.  These  clouds  are  merely  the 
summits  of  the  ascenditig  currents  which  rise  from  the 
heated  land,  where  the  aqueous  vapour  is  condens,ed  in 
cloud  by  the  expansion  which  takes  place  with  increase  of 
height. 

These  cumulus  clouds  throw  a  not  unimportant  iignt  on 
the  behaviour  of  the  ascending  currents  which  rise  from 
the  surface  when  heated  by  the  sun, — inasmuch  as  they 


128 


:\I  E  T  E  0  R  O  L  0  G  Y 


[diuhxal  p.^infalc. 


point  to  the  fact  that  tlie  ocrrent  ascending  from  Iho 
surface  is  broken  up  and  thereafter  grouped  into  sciiarate 
well-detincd  a:jcending  currents,  which  are  marked  out  and 
overtop|)ed  by  these  cumuli ;  and  further  it  is  probable, 
from  thoir  well-defined  position,  that  the  air  composing 
the  ascending  currents  is  not  only  warmer  but  also  more 
humid  than  the  air  in  the  clear  intei-spaces  at  the  same 
heights.  It  may  also  be  regarded  as  highly  probable  that 
it  is  down  through  these  clear  interspaces  that  the  descend- 
ing air-filaments  shape  their  course  in  their  way  to  take 
the  place  of  th&  air-molecules  that  ascend  from  the  heated 
surface  of  the  earth. 

The  secondary  minimum  occurs  from  about  sun.set 
onwards  during  the  time  of  the  P.M.  maximum  of  atmo- 
.spheric  pressure.  In  a  highly  .-iaturated  atmosphere,  which 
is  so  characteristic  a  feature  of  many  tropical  climates  at 
certain  .seasons,  this  lime  of  the  day  is  remarkable  for  the 
amount  of  cloud;  and  it  is  during  those  seasons  and  hours 
that  huat-lightning,  or  lightning  without  thunder,  attains 
its  annual  and  diurnal  maximum  period,  which  is  from  six 
to  eight  hours  later  than  that  of  thunderstorms.  The 
morning  maximum,  j-hortly  before  and  after  sunrise,  has 
two  quite  distinct  and  characteristic  clouds  accompanying 
it.  One  of  these  is  the  curaulo-stratus,  which  is  a  con- 
sequence of  the  cooling  of  the  atmosphere  through  all  its 
height  by  nocturnal  r.idiation.  As  the  colouring  of  the 
cloudlets  is  often  singularly  fine,  it  has  been  a  favourite 
theme  with  poets  of  all  ages  and  climes.  The  other,  which 
results  from  the  cooling  of  the  surface  of  the  earth  by 
terrestrial  radiation  and  thence  of  the  lower  stratum  of 
the  atmosphere,  is  quite  different,  being  a  low  creeping 
mist,  appearing  first  in  low-lying  situations,  and  gradually 
extending  upwards  as  the  temperature  falls.  Fog  is  a 
well-kno\ra  form  of  this  cloud,  having  its  diurnal  maximum 
in  the  morning  and  early  part  of  the  day. 

Dill  null  Variation  in  the  Amount  of  the  Bain/all. — 
From  the  sLxteeu  years  during  which  hourly  observations 
of  the  rainfall  were  made  at  Batavia  Dr  Bergsma  has  given 
a  table  showing  the  diiu-nal  variation,  of  which  the  follow- 
ing shows  how  much  per  cent,  of  the  total  daily  amount 
fell  e\Lry  two  hours  : — 

Midt.  lu'2  .i.M.  8-7  I    8  A.M.tolO  A.M.  .1-5  i    4  P.M.  toO  r.M.  13-5 

2  a.m.  „  i    „  0-4  10    „    „  Noon     6-3  6    „    „8    „     10-5 

4    „    ,,  G    „  6-1  ,    Noon  „  2  P.M.    95  i    8    „    „  10  „      Ti 

«    „    „8    „  6-2  I    2  P.M.,,  4    „     12-2  1 10    „    „  Midt.     87 

The  diurnal  curve  of  rainfall  is  thus  very  distinctly 
marked  at  Batavia.  The  minimum  is  from  6  to  10  a.m. 
and  the  maximum  from  "2  to  6  P.M., — 10"7  per  cent,  falling 
during  the  four  hours  ending  10  A.M.,  but  25'7  per  cent, 
in  the  four  hours  ending  6  P.M. 

Thu  observations  ut-ie  arranged  and  averaged  by  Dr  Berganja 
with  the  view  of  seeing  liow  far  the  pliases  of  the  moon  influence 
the  rainfall.  The  results  for  the  eight  phases  of  the  moon, 
beginning  with  new  moon,  showing  tiie  mean  amount  of  rain  in 
t\venty-four  liours  during  the  seventeen  year.s  ending  1880,  are 
these  :-0"243,  0-236,  0193,  O'lSl,  0-212,  0-183,  0-189,  and  0-203, 
and  daily  mean  0-205  inch.  The  influence  of  tlic  moon's  pliascs 
on  the  rainfall  at  liatavia  is  thus  quite  decided  from  tliese  seventeen 
years;  for,  while  tlie  moan  daily  rainfall  is  0-20.-5  inrh,  it  rises  at 
full  moon  to  0-243  incli,  from  uhich  time  it  gradually  falls  to 
0-181  inch  at  the  tliird  octant,  rises  to  0-'212  inch  at  the  fourth 
octant,  falls  again  to  0-183  inch  at  the  fifth  octant,  and  finally 
rises  to  the  maximum  at  the  time  of  new  moon. 

At  Coimbra,  where  the  rainfall  has'  been  observed  every  two 
hours  for  the  six  years  ending  1881,  the  moans  show  a  minimum 
of  8-08  inches  from  midnight  to  2  a.m.,  a  maximum  of  4-03  inches 
from  2  to  4  a.m.,  a  second  minimum  of  3-20  inches  from  10  a.m. 
to  noon,  and  a  second  maximum  from  2  to  4  P.M.  These  four 
phases  of  the  rainfall  are  i  pretty  nearly  accordant  with  the  font 
phases  of  the  barometric  pressure,  the  maximum  periods  being 
near  the  times  of  minimum  pressure,,  and  the  minimum  periods 
near  the  times  of  maximum  i>ressure.  The  rainfall  at  Philadelphia 
shows  a  ilecided  Qjaximum  at  0  P.M.  and  miniuniin  at  3  4.M.  At 
Vienna  during  the  siiuinu-r  half  of  the  year  there  are  three  maxima 
and    three  niiuinia  in  the  curve  uf   the  daily  rainfall,  the    chief 


maximum,  which  is  nearly  double  of  each  of  the  other  two, 
oi-eurring  from  2  to  4  P.M.,  and  the  chief  minimum  from  3  to  6 
A.M.  At  this  place  the  number  of  hours  of  rain  kas  been  recorded, 
shov.ing  two  maximum  periods,  the  first  from  2  to  8  A.M.  and  the 
second  from  4  to  7  p.m.  Since  the  time  of  maximum  amount 
indicates  a  nuniber  of  hours  for  the  fall  under  the  mean  of  the  day. 
it  follows  that  the  showers  from  2  to  4  p.m.  hk  often  very  heavy. 
At  Prague  the  chief  maximum  is  from  2  to  6  p.m.  and  the  minimum 
from  1  to  0  A.M.  At  Zcchen  the  maximum  is  from  2  to  7  p.m., 
with  a  secoiulary  maximum  from  5  to  8  a.m.,  and  the  minimum 
from  midnight  to  4  a.m.  At  Hern  the  maximum  fall  is  from  7  p.m. 
to  midnight.  Twenty-one  years'  observations  at  Calcutta  show 
the  maximum  occurrence  of  lainfall  during  the  raijiy  season  from 
June  to  October  to  be  from  11  a.m.  to  6  p.m.,  the  absolute  maximam 
being  from  2  to  3  P.M.  and  the  minimum  from  9  p.m.  to  1  A.M. ; 
and  during  the  hot  dry  season  from  March  to  May  the  maximum  is 
from  5  to  9  P.M.,  and  the  minimum  from  midnight  to  9  a.m. 

The  data  already  collected  .show  the  general  occurrence 
of  a  diurnal  maximum  from  about  11  a.m.  to  6  p.m.,  and 
this  feature  of  the  curve  is  particularly  well  seen  in  the 
rainfall  of  continental  climates  during  the  summer  half  of 
the  year.  A  marked  diminution  of  the  rainfall  is  very 
generally  observed  from  about  sunset  to  midnight,  when 
the  diurnal  amount  of  cloud  in  many  climates  falls  to  the 
minimum,  and  the  evening  maximum  of  atmospheric 
pressure  takes  place.  The  time  of  the  morning  minimum 
pressure  from  about  2  to  G  a.m.  is,  curiously,  strongly 
marked  in  some  places  with  an  increase,  while  in  others  it 
is  as  strongly  marked  with  a  diminution,  in  the  rainfall. 
I'he  "  Challenger  "  observatioms  show  that  the  occurrence 
of  rain  on  the  open  sea  is  inversely  as  the  temperature, 
68-1  da}s'  observations  giving  96  cases  from  9  to  4  p.m., 
and  135  from  midnight  to  2  a.m..  these  being  the  miaimuin 
and  maximiun  periods. 

Diurnal  Variation  of  Thioulert-torms. — It  has  just  been 
remarked  that  a  prominent  feature  of  the  diurnal  rainfall 
in  continental  climates  during  the  summer  months  is  the 
increased  rainfall  from  about  11  a.m.  to  6  p.m.,  and  the 
Vienna  observations  point  to  unusually  heavy  falls  occur- 
ring at  these  hours.  This  is  caused  by  the  rains  which 
accompany  the  thunderstorms  of  these  regions.  The 
following  table  gives  for  the  hours  of  the  day  the  times  of 
occurrence  of  thunderstorms  at  Ekaterinburg  in  the  UraJ 
Mountains  during  the  fourteen  years  ending  1872  : — 


Apul. 

May. 

Jane. 

July. 

AUE. 

Scpi. 

YMr. 

Midnig'  ^  to  1  a.m 

5 

5 

16 

1  A.-      2  „  

1 

2 

8 

2  „   „  3  

... 

1 

1 

6 

3  ,,   „  4  

1 

3 

6 

4  „   „  5  „  

2 

1 

4 

G  „   „  6  , 

3 

B 

6  „    ,,7  , 

2 

5 

7  „   „  a  

i 

6 

2 

10 

8  ,,    „  9  „  

1 

4 

1 

10 

9  ,,   „  10  

1 

6 

6 

19 

10  „   „  11  

1 

8 

12 

4 

25 

11  „   „  Noon 

1 

2 

14 

30 

5 

1 

63 

Noon   „  1  p.M 

3 

4 

19 

25 

5 

4 

60 

1  P.M.   ,,  2  

2 

« 

21 

29 

12 

2 

74 

2  ,,   ,,3  

3 

10 

22 

35 

15 

4 

89 

3  ,,   „  4  

3 

6 

2£ 

45 

20 

1 

101 

4  „   ,,5  

'  2 

5 

24 

33 

9 

73 

i    „        ,,6  

1 

6 

m 

30 

11 

2 

75 

6  „   ,,7  „  

2 

7 

l& 

20 

10 

... 

54 

7  ,,   „  8  , 

2 

5 

18 

20 

9 

52 

8  „   „  9  „  

2 

6 

14 

14 

6 

42 

!)  „   „  10  „  

2 

3 

8 

10 

5 

1 

29 

10  „   „  11  

1 

G 

5 

18 

11  „   ,,  Midnight... 

1 

7 

8 

22 

Sums 

27 

64 

255 

SSI 

144 

16 

856 

Hence  the  thunderstorms  at  this  jilace  have  a  diurnal 
period  as  strongly  marked  as  any  other  meteorological 
phenomena,  and  in  this  respect  Ekaterinburg  is  fairly 
representative  of  extratropical  continental  climates  during 
summer.     For   the  fourteen   years  no   thunder   occurred 


THtTNDEBSTOEMS,] 


METEOROLOGY 


12i» 


during  the  six  months  from  October  to  March.  The  mean 
of  the  six  hottest  months  shows  the  maximum  to  take 
place  from  3  to  4  p.m.  and  the  minimum  from  4  to  5  am., 
these  being  the  times  of  occurrence  of  the  two  minima  of 
pressure.  At  this  season,  however,  the  morning  minimum 
pressure  is  but  faintly  marked  in  such  climates  as  those  of 
Siberia.  During  the  twelve  hours  from  9  A.M.  to  9  p.m., 
when  the  temperature  b  above  the  daily  mean,  717  of  the 
whole  number  occurred,  thus  leaving  only  139  for  the 
twelve  hours  when  the  temperature  is  below  the  daily 
mean.  The  great  majority  of  the  thunderstorms  occur 
during  ths  part  of  the  day  when  the  ascensional  movement 
of  the  air  from  the  heated  ground  takes  place,  and  they 
attain  the  maximum  when  the  temperature  and  this 
upward  movement  are  also  at  the  maximum.  Owing  to 
the  westerly  winds  from  the  Atlantic  which  prevail  over 
Europe  and  western  Siberia  during  summer,  the  maximum 
rainfall  of  the  year  occurs  over  this  extensive  region  in  this 
season  ;  and  the  importance  and  significance  of  the  inquiry 
into  this  element  of  climate  lie  in  the  fact  that  the  g?eater 
portion  of  the  summer  rains  is  discharged  over  these  regions 
by  the  thunderstorm.  The  "  Challenger  "  observations  on 
the  open  sea  show  the  maximum  occurrence  of  thunder- 
storms to  be  from  10  P.M.  to  8  a.m.,  22  being  observed 
during  these  ten  hours  and  10  during  the  other  fourteen 
hours  of  the  day, — a  result  which  suggests  that  over  the 
ocean  terrestrial  radiation  is  more  powerful  than  solar 
radiation  in  causing  vertical  disturbances  in  the  equilibrium 
of  the  atmosphere. 

Atmospheric  vapour  and  ascending  currents  thus  play 
an  important  part  in  the  history  of  these  thunderstorms. 
Where  the  climate  is  dry  and  rainless,  Like  that  of  Jerusalem 
in  summer,  thunder  is  altogether  unknown.  On  the  other 
hand,  where  during  a  particular  season  an  anticyclone  with 
its  vast  descending  current  in  the  centre  remains  over  a 
regiQU,  as  happens  over  the  centre  of  the  old  continent 
during  the  winter,  over  that  region  thunder  is  equally 
unknown  during  that  season.  Further,  in  such  places  as 
Lisbon  and  Coimbra,  where  the  summer  rainfall  is  small 
and  its  occurrence  infrequent,  thunderstorms  become  les^ 
frequent,  and  the  hours  of  their  occurrence  are  later  in  the 
day  than  they  are  before  and  after  the  dry  season. 

The  thunderstorms  at  Mauritius  call  for  special  notice.  There 
ire  two  maxima  in  the  diui'ual  curve,  the  larger  from  noon  to  4 
P.M.  and  the  smaller  from  3  to  6  A. M.,  which  are  near  the  times  of 
the  barometric  minima  ;  and  two  minima,  from  9  P.M.  to  1  A. M. 
and  from  8  to  10  a.m.,  these  being  near  the  times  of  the  barometric 
maxima.  But  the  important  point  as  regards  the  thunderstorms 
of  Mauritius  is  that  for  twelve  yeai-s  none  were  recorded  in  Juno 
and  July,  one  only  in  August,  one  in  September,  and  three  in 
October.  The  annual  period  of  the  thunderetorms  of  this  island 
extends  from  near  tlie  end  of  October  to  the  middle  of  May,  or 
during  the  time  of  the  greatest  rainfall,  practically  noue  occurring 
during  the  rest  of  the  year.  But  rain  contiuues  to  fall  during 
the  four  months  of  no  thunder,  the  mean  monthly  rainfall  being 
then  about  2  inches,  falling,  ^  however,  in  September  to  1*37 
inches.  During  these  four  months,  therefore,  there  is  in  the  air 
the  a((ueous  vapour,  and,  these  being  dry  months,  there  is  the 
condition  of  ascending  cmrcnts.  There  appears,  however,  to 
be  then  wanting  another  element  which  seems  essential  to 
the  electrical  manifestations  of  the  thunderstorm,  viz.,  the  con- 
ditions which  give  masses  of  descending  cold  air  along  with 
the  ascending  current  of  warm  moist  air.  Buring  the  months 
when  thunder  is  of  no  unusual  occun-ence  the  high  pressure  of  Asia 
repeatedly  advances,  as  Dr  Meldrum  has  pointed  out,  close  on 
Mauritius  ;  and  so  frequently  is  this  the  case  that  he  considers  the 
belt  of  calms  bet^vcen  the  two  trade  winds  to  stretch  in  a  slanting 
direction  from  Madagascar  to  Ceylon.  As  long  as  this  state  of 
things  occurs  with  more  or  less  frequency,  the  conditions  of  a 
descending  cold  current  of  large  volume  are  provided,  and  thunder- 
storms occur.  But  during  June,  July,  August,  and  September, 
when  atmospheric  pres.=ure  is  low  in  Central  Asia,  and  there  is  an 
unbroken  increase  of  pressure  from  Asia  southwards  to  Mauritius, 
and  while  Mauritius  remains  in  the  heart  of  the  south-east  trades, 
the  condition?  of  descending  cold  currents  of  any  conflidcrable 
Tolmne  ar«  not  present,  and  thu::dcr  is  there  unknown  at  that 
season.    °' 


Now  in  situations  which  afford  the  three  conditions  of  aqueooa 
vapoiir,  ascending  currents,  and  descending  cold  currents,  whilst 
the  diurnal  and  annual  periods  are  quite  aistinctly  marked,  the 
phenomena  are  more  uniformly  distributed  through  the  hours  of  the 
day  and  months  of  the  year  than  elsewhere.  Pola  and  Fiuhie,  at 
the  head  of  the  Adriatic,  being  shut  iu  and'eucompassed  by  lofty 
Alps,  are  illustrations.  Ac  Fiume  the  greater  maximum  occui-s 
from  11  A.M.  to  1  P.M.  and  the  smaller  from  2  to  4  A.M.,  aud  the 
minima  from  10  P.M.  to  1  A.M.  and  5  to  9  A.M.  While  during  the 
twelve  hours  the  temperature  is  above  tlie  mean  of  the  day  froni 
May  to  September  the  number  of  the  thunderstorms  here  was  245 
for  the  nine  years  ending  1879,  the  number  during  the  twelve 
hours  the  temperature  is  under  the  mean  was  ISj.  The  compara- 
tively large  number  during  the  colder  hours  of  the  night  is  no  ooubt 
due  to  the  warm  moist  atmosphere  of  tliis  confined  sea  aud  tiio 
close  proximity  of  the  Alps. 

There  is  still  another  set  of  condition?  favoniing  the  develop- 
ment of  thunderstorms  in  certain  climates  vhich  the  observations 
made  at  Stykkisholm  in  the  north-west  of  Iceland  illustrate. 
During  the  fourteen  years  ending  1879  there  occurred  here  twenty- 
three  thunderstorms,  but  there  was  only  one  in  the  six  warm 
months  from  April  to  September ;  in  other  words,  the  thunder- 
storms of  this  climate  are  essentially  winter  phenomena.  Further, 
of  the  twenty-three  hours  in  which  they  occurred,  only  three  were 
at  a  time  of  the  day  wlien  the  sun  was  above  the  hoiizon,  viz., 
twice  in  March  and  once  in  September ;  in  other  words,  the  thunder- 
storms of  Stykkisholm  are  nocturnal  phenomena.  It  is  instructive 
to  observe  that  in  the  north  and  north-west  of  Scotland  thunder 
occurs  most  frequently  during  the  night  and  in  winter,  whereas  in 
central,  southern,  and  eastern  districts  it  occui-s  most  frequently 
during  the  day  and  in  summer, — the  thunderstorms  in  the  former 
case  approximating  in  type  to  those  of  Icclaud  and  in  the  latter 
to  those  of  £katerinbnrg.  A  little  reflexion  shows  tliat  in  north- 
western Europe  it  is  during  winter  and  during  night  that  warm 
moist  ascending  and  cold  dry  descending  currents  are  most  fre- 
quently brought  into  close  proximity  during  the  great  Atlantic 
storms  of  the  season;  and  it  is  at  the  changes  of  wind,  humidity, 
aud  temperature  accompanying  the  passage  of  the  centres  of  tho 
cyclones  that  the  thunderpeals  arelieari  On  the  other  hand, 
in  the  east  and  south  of  Scotland  it  is  during  the  hot  months 
of  the  year  that  these  ascending  columns -of  warm  moist  air  and 
descending  columns  of  cold  dry  air  are  most  frequently  brought 
together,  and  there,  accordingly,  thunder  with  tne  heavy  raina 
which  accompany  it  is  of  most  frequent  occurrence  from  11  A.M. 
to  6  P.M.  from  May  to  September  Tnese  essentially  different  typej 
of  thunderstorms  have  been  classed  by  Mohn  as  heat  thunderstorms 
and  cyclonic  thunderstorms. 

Given  an  initial  difference  of  electric  potential,  it  is  easy 
to  understand  from  the  effects  which  follow  the  sudden 
extraordinary  condensations  of  the  aqueous  vapour  that 
take  place  how  the  most  violent  thunderstorms  are  pro- 
duced. The  difficulty  is  to  account  for  the  production  of 
the  initial  difference  of  electric  potential, — how,  for 
example,  in  the  same  great  aerial  current  of  the  south-west 
monsoon,  this  difference  of  potential  is  produced  in  the 
molecules  of  aqueous  vapour  at  Calcutta  but  not  in  the 
aqueous  vapour  at  Maiuitius.  It  is  to  the  physicist  that 
meteorologists  still  look  for  the  explanation. 

Diurnal  Period  in  the  Occurrence  of  the  Whirlwind, 
Waterspout,  Diist  Storm,  and  Tornado. — Whirlwinds, 
waterspouts,  dust  storms,  and  tornadoes  are  essentially  the 
same,  differing  from  each  other  only  in  their  dimensions, 
their  intensity,  or  the  degree  in  which  the  moisture  is  con- 
densed into  visible  vapour,  while  the  hailstorm  and  the 
rainstorm  are  simply  the  manner  and  degree  of  the  pre- 
cipitation accompanying  them.  In  several  important 
respects  they  differ  widely  and  radically  from  cyclones  (see 
Atmospitere,  vol.  iii..p.  33).  The  largest  tornadoes  are 
of  so  decidedly  smaller  dimensions  when  compared  with 
the  smallest  cyclones  as  to  admit  of  no  shading  of  the  one 
into  the  other.  Cyclones  occur  at  all  hours  of  the  day 
and  night,  whereas  whirlwinds  and  tornadoes  show  a 
diurnal  period  as  distinctly  marked  as  any  in  meteorology. 
Finally,  cyclones  take  place  imder  conditions  which  involve 
unequal  atmospheric  pressures  or  densities  at  the  same 
heights  of  the  atmosphere,  due  to  inequalities  in  the 
geographical  distribution  of  temperature  and  humidity ;  but 
whirlwinds  occur  where  for  the  time  the  air  is  unusually 
warm  or  moist,  and  where  consequently  temperature  and 
rVL  —  17 


130 


METEOROLOGY 


[whirlwinds  AS1> 


humidity  diminish  with  height  at  an  abnormally  rapid  rate. 
Cj'clones  are  thus  phenomena  resulting  from  a  disturbance 
of  the  equilibrium  of  the  atmosphere  considered  horizon- 
tally, but  whirlwinds  and  tornadoes  have  their  origin  in  a 
vertical  disturbance  of  atmospheric  equilibrium. 

Among  tbe  iriost  remarkable  of  the  tornado-swept  regions  of  the 
globe  are  certain  portions  of  the  United  States  ;  and  to  the  examina- 
tion of  these  the  meteorological  service  of  tlio  St^ites  has  given 
special  attention  by  a  systematic,  careful,  and  minute  observation 
(a  the  attendant  phenomena  and  the  destructive  effects.  Tlie 
tornadoes  of  the  last  eighty-seven  years,  numbering  about  six 
hundred,  have  been  classed  under  the  different  States  where  they 
Are  reported  to  have  occurred,  and  fig.  5  shows  this  relative  distribu- 


tion over  the  States.  The  areas  of  greatest  frequency  are  at  long- 
distances  from  each  other.  That  part  of  the  jffreat  basin  lying 
west  of  the  Mississippi,  including  the  States  of  Iowa,  Missouri, 
Kansas,  and  Nebraska,  is  the  region  in  which  tornadoes  are  most 
frequent.  Tornadoes  -  occur  at  all  seasons,  being  most  frequent, 
however,  from  April  to  September,  and  least  frequent  in  Decemher 
and  January. 

The  hour  of  occurrence  of  one  hundred   and  sixty-two  of  the 
tornadoes  is  given  in  the  official  report  as  follows  : — 


Midt.  ta  2  A.M. 

2  A.M. 


8  A.M.  to  10  A.M. 

Noon  7 
Noon  ,,  2  r.M.  13 
2r.M. ,,    4    „     47 


4  P.M.  to   6  P.M. 


for  temperattu*,  wind  velwity,  and  thunderstorms.  The  atmo- 
spheric conditions  whicli  appear  invariably  to  precede  the  formation 
of  the  tornado  are  violent  contrasts  of  temperature  and  humidity 
immediately  to  the  north  and  south  of  the  patli  to  be  traversed  by 
the  storm.  It  is  highly  interesting  to  observe  from  fig.  5  that  the 
legion  of  most  frequent  occurreucc  of  tornadoes  is  the  region 
wliere  a  large  number  of  the  cyclones  of  the  United  States  appear 
to  originate  (and  the  same  region  Loomis  has  shown  to  be  remark- 
able for  violent  contrasts  of  temperature  occurring  within  limited 
spaces  and  times),  and  that,  as  appears  in  th?  regions  of  the 
Alleghanies,  they  decrease  in  frequency  with  height. 

Fig.  6  shows  the  waterspout  in  different  aspects.  A 
black  cloud  covers  the  sky,  from  which  a  projection  is  let 
down  in  the  form  of  an  inverted  cone,  as  at  A,  which 
continues  to  increase  and  extend  downwards.  The  sed 
immediately  beneath  is  soon  thrown  into  violent  agitation, 
showing  that  the  whirling  movement  which  began  in  the 
clouds  has  e.ttended  to  the  sea,  and  is  doubtless  continuous 
throughout,  though  the  portion  of  the  column  from  A 
downwards  is  not  yet  made  apparent  by  the  condensation 
of  its  contained  vapour  into  cloud.  As  the  whirling  move- 
ment of  the  column  becomes  more  intensely  developed,  the 
increased  rapidity  of  the  fg-rations  lirings  about  increased 
rarefaction  of  the  air  within,  with  tlu  inevitable  result  of 
increased  condensation  of  the  vapour  into  cloud  downward. 
The  protrusion  of  the  cloud  and  it.s  extension  downwards 
are  thus  not  due  to  the  descent  of  vajiour  from  the  clouds, 
but  to  the  visible  condensation  of  the  nvpour  of  the  spirally 
ascending  air-currents  arising  from  an  increasing  rarefac- 
tion dtie  solely  to  tie  accelerated  rate  of  the  gyrations,  the 


condensation  being  analogous  to  that  of  the  cioud  seen  in 
exhausting  an  air-pump. 

Under  each  of  the  columns  of  fig.  6  the  surface  of  tho 
sea  is  seen  to  be  more  or  less  heaped  up,  as  well  as  in 
violent  agitation,  showing  that  atmospheric  pressure 
immediately  under  the  gyrating  columns  is  less  than  it  is 
all  round.  On  land,  when  the  tornado  passes  directly 
over  a  dwelling  house  or  other  closed  building,  it  often 
happens  that  the  whole  building,  walls  and  roof,  is  thrown 
outward  with  great  violence,  the  wreckage  presenting  the 
appearance  of  a  sudden  explosion,  proving  that  atmospheric 
pressure  outside  the  building  was  instantaneously  and 
largely  reduced,  and  the  building  shattered  to  fragments 
by  the  expansion  of  the  air  within.  It  is  in  this  way  that 
the  tornado  does  some  of  its  most  dreadful  work. 

The  wind  of  the  tornado  reaches  a  velocity  probably 
never  equalled  in  cyclones.  During  the  Ohio  tornado  of 
February  4,  1842,  large  buildings  were  lifted  entire  from 
their  foundations,  carried  several  rods  through  the  air,  and 
then  dashed  to  pieces,  some  of  the  fragments  being  carried 
distances  of  7  and  8  miles  ;  and  large  oaks  nearly  7  feet  in 
girth  were  snapped  across  like  reeda.  This  tornado  swept 
on  its  course  at  tbe  rate  of  34  miles  an  hour,  and  at  oae 


TOBKADOES.] 


METEOROLOGY 


131 


riace  did  its  fearful  work  in  the  brief  space  of  a  minute. 
The  tornado  which  passed  over  Mount  Carmel  (Illinois), 
June  i,  1877,  swept  o2  the  spire,  vane,  and  gilded  ball  of 
the  Methodist  church,  and  carried  it  bodily  15  miles  to 
north-eastward.  The  velocity  of  the  ascending  currents 
which  kept  this  heavy  object  suspended  in  the  air  for  15 
or  20  miles  must  have  been  very  great. 

Of  the  tornadoes  the  progressive  courses  of  which  were 
recorded,  310  advanced  towards  N.E.,  38  towards  S.E.,  16 
towards  E.N.E.,  14  towards  E.,  7  towards  N.N.E.,  5  towards 
E.S.R,  and  3  towards  S.S.E.     The  course  is  thus  always 


Fio.  6. — Forms  of  'Watcr.^'Outi. 

towards  some  easterly  direction,  the  great  majority  being 
Kjwards  the  north-east.  The  velocity  of  their  onward 
movement  varied  from  1 2  to  60  miles  an  hour,  the  average 
being  30  miles  an  hour.  The  time  occupied  in  passing  a 
particular  spot  varied  from  10  seconds  to  half  an  hour, 
the  mean  time  being  nearly  six  minutes  and  a  half.  The 
width  of  the  path  of  destruction  marked  with  debris  and 
other  relics  of  the  violence  of  the  tornado  varied  from  40 
to  10,000  feet,  the  average  being  362  yards.  The  direction 
of  the  whirling  movement  of  the  tornado  was  invariably  from 
right  to  left,  or  the  opposite  of  the  movement  of  the  hands 
of  a  watch,  resembling  in  this  respect  the  vorticose  move- 
ment of  cyclones  in  the  northern  hemisphere.  The  passage 
of  the  tornado  cloud  is  often  described  as  accompanied 
with  remarkable  noises,  which  observers  variously  charac- 
terize as  terrible,  deafening,  a  terrific  crash,  the  roar  of  a 
thousand  trains  of  cars,  or  the  uproarious  din  of  innumer- 
able pieces  of  machinery. 

The  usual  position  of  the  gyrating  columns  of  cloud  is 
vertical ;  but  occasionally  a  cur^Tng  form  or  slanting 
direction  is  assumed.  It  is  probable  that  to  these  latter 
forms  many  stationary  or  slowly  moving  dangerous  squalls 
are  to  be  referred,  which  spring  up  with  unexpected 
suddenness  in  lakes  and  arms  of  the  sea  in  mountainous 
regions. 

The  dust  storm  of  India,  Arabia,  and  Africa  is  a  well- 
marked  type  of  the  whirlwind.  Previous  to  the  outbreak 
of  a  dust  storm  the  air  is  unusually  calm  and  sultry,  just 
as  happens  in  the  case  of  the  tornado.  The  simplest  form 
of  the  dust  storm  is  that  of  a  tall  aerial  column  of  sand 
moving  onwards,  and  drawing  into  itself,  as  it  whirls  round 
in  its  eonrse,  dust  and  other  light  bodies  vrithin  the  sweep 


of  the  strong  air-currents  which  blow  along  the  surface  of 
the  ground  and  converge  vorticosely  round  the  base  of  the 
column.  A  form  commonly  seen  is  shown  in  fig.  7,  which 
represents  several  dust  columns  grouped  together,  each 
whii-ling  independently  round  its  own  axis  with  incurving 
air-currents  at  the. base,  while  the  whole  group  of  columns 
is  borne  bodily  forward,  and  presents  striking  aspects  as 
the  forms  and  relative  positions  of  the  columns  are  changed. 
The  importance  of  the  observations  made  on  dust  storms 
as  leading  to  a  correct  understanding  of  the  Avhirlwind 
consists  in  this  that  it  alfords  conclusive  evidence  that 
there  is  a  strong  inflow  of  the 
air  along  the  surface  of  the 
ground  all  round  vorticosely 
towards  the  base  of  the  whh-1- 
wind,  aud  that  these  same  in- 
flovNTng  air-currents  afterwards 
ascend  through  the  air  along 
the  central  axis  of  the  whirl- 
mnd,  carrying  with  them  the 
evidence  of  their  ascent  in  the 
visible  solid  particles  of  dust, 
sand,  and  other  light  objects 
they  whirl  up  with  them  in 
their  ascending  course. 

Owiug  to  the  extreme  dryness 
of  the  air-currents  involved  in 
the  dust  storm,  the  rarefaction 
generated  by  the  rapidity  of  the 
gyrations  is  insufficient  to  pro- 
duce condensation  of  the  aqueous 
vapour  in  the  interior  of  the 
column.  Quite  different,  how- 
ever, is  it  with  waterspouts  and 
torng,does,  where,  in  the  great 
—  majorit3'  of  cases,  the  air  near 
the  surface  before  being  drawn 
into  the  ascending  cortex  is  of 
a  high  temperature  and  near  the  point  of  saturation 
From  the  extreme  rarefaction  to  which  these  air-currents 
are  subjected,  owing  to  their  sudden  ascent  in  a  rapidly 
gyrating  column,  excessive  condensation  follows,  vrith  an 
aqueous  precipitation  at  times  so  astonishing  that  it  can 
only  be  fittingly       _  _         _ 


described   as 
aerial   torrent  of 
solid  water,  or  an 
aerial    avalanche 
of  hail  and  ice 

Certain  tracts 
of  the  ocean  in 
eluded  within 
what  may 
called  permanent 
anticyclones,  or 
where  atmo- 

spheric pressure 
is  higher  than  all 
round,  are  char 
acterized  by  an 
absence  or  com 
parative  absence 
of  rain.  These 
regions  are  also 
remarkable  for 
clear  skies  and 
strong  sun  heat. 


§4^^:  vsoaT' 


Fia   7. — Dust  Storm. 


Similarly  small  anticyelonic  areas  occur- 
ring between  or  in  the  vicinity  of  cyclones  are  characterized 
by  dry  air  and  clear  skies,  and  it  is  under  these  conditions 
that  the  strongest  sun  heat  is  felt.    When,  as  repeated!/ 


132 


METEOKOLOGY 


tSAIL. 


happens  in  the  warmer  months  of  the  year,  anticyclones 
remain  practically  stationary  for  some  time,  the  lowermost 
strata  of  the  air  become  abnormally  heated, — thus  bringing 
about  a  vertical  disturbance  of  the  equilibrium  of  the  atmo- 
sphere out  of  which  whirlwinds  originate.  It  is  under  these 
conditions  that  white  squalls  or  fair-weather  whirlwinds 
occur,  the  originating  cause  of  this  special  form  being  the 
great  dryness  of  the  air  due  to  its  place  in  the  anticyclone, 
and  the  abnormally  rapid  diminution  of  temperature  and 
humidity  with  height  owing  to  the  strong  insolation  through 
the  clear  dry  atmosphere.  The  clouds  accompanying  the 
white  squalls  are  at  a  great  height,  but  the  commotion  and 
boiling  of  the  sea  under  them  and  following  them  as  they 
drift  onwards  show  that  the  squalls  are  true  whirlwinds, 
the  vapour  column  of  the  waterspout  not  being  formed 
solely  on  account  of  the  extreme  dryness  of  the  air  which 
ascends  the  columns.  The  white  squall  accompanies  fine 
■weather,  and  its  appearance  is  sudden,  its  duration  brief, 
and  its  destructive  power  at  times  so  dreadful  tliat  it  has 
been  known  to  strip  a  ship  of  every  sail  and  mast  in  a  few 
seconds,  and  leave  it  rolling  a  helpless  log  amidst  the 
tremendous  sea  which  follows  it.  In  sailing  through  such 
regions  a  close  lookout  should  be  ma.de,  particularly  when 
the  weather  looks  singularly  fine,  the  skies  beautifully 
clear,  the  air  calm  or  nearly  so,  and  the  temperature  and 
moisture  of  the  air  on  board  the  vessel  noticeably  high. 

Diurnal  Period  of  Hail. — The  hail  here  referred  to  is 
round,  hard,  and  compact,  and  in  the  form  of  clear  or 
granular  ice,  the  hailstones  sometimes  being  found  when 
broken  across  to  be  composed  of  alternate  layers  of  these 
two  states  of  ice.  The  following  figures  show  the  number 
of  times  it  has  occui'red  during  the  different  hours  of  the 
day  at  Coimbra  during  the  last  six  years  : — 


Midt  to  2  A.M.    0 

8  A.M. to  10  A.M.      3 

4  p.m.  to  6  P.M 

2  A.M.  „   4     „         1 

10    „    „    Noon    20 

8    .1    ..    8    „ 

«    „     „  6    „        2 

Noon  „    2  P.M.  IB 

8    „    „  10    „ 

«    ..     .,  8    „        1 

2 P.M.,,    4    „      13 

10    „    „    Midt. 

A  diurnal  period  is  thus  well-marked  at  Coimbra,  where 
forty-eight  out  of  the  fifty-nine  ca.ses  have  occurred  from 
10  A.M.  to  4  P.M.  This  period  is  essentially  the  same  as 
those  calculated  for  a  large  number  of  places  in  representa- 
tive climates,  care  having  been  taken  to  limit  the  inquiry 
to  the  particular  hail  described  above.  The  important 
point  to  be  noticed  in  the  diurnal  period  of  hail  is  that  the 
time  of  maximum  is  about  two  hours  earlier  than  the 
maximum  period  of  thunderstorms.  The  maximum  period 
for  the  thunderstorm  is  when  the  ascending  current  frpm 
the  heated  land  is  at  its  greatest  force  for  the  day ;  but 
the  maximum  period  for  hail  is  some  time  before  the 
ascending  current  has  fully  established  itself,  or  at  that 
time  of  the  day  when  the  vertical  disturbance  of  the 
atmosphere  is  greatest, — in  other  words,  when  atmospheric 
temperature  and  Vapour  fall  with  height  at  a  much  greater 
rate  than  the  normal  In  the  higher  latitudes  hail  falls 
aJmost  exclusively  during  the  warmer  months  of  the  year. 
In  regions  where  the  summer  cKmate  is  practically  rainless 
no  hail  falls ;  and  where  the  rainfall  is  small  and  at  distant 
intervals  few  cases  of  haU  occur.  Thus  at  Coimbra,  where 
little  rain  falls  in  summer,  hail  was  recorded  as  having 
fallen  only  once  in  the  six  years  during  the  four  dry  hot 
months  from  June  to  September. 

All  haU  is  probably  connected  immediately  with  whirl- 
winds, more  or  less  developed ;  and  it  is  whm  the  b^il- 
storm  is  one  of  the  phenomena  attendant  on  the  tornado  or 
on  a  great  thunderstorm  that  it  assumes  its  most  destruc- 
tive form.  The  theory  of  the  formation  of  hail  has  been 
stated  by  Fcrrel  in  his  Mtteoroloyical  Researches  for  the  Use 
of  the  Coast  Pilot,  part  ii.  p.  85.  The  vapour  carried  aloft 
by  the  gyrations  of  the  tornado  is  below  a  certain  height 
condensed  into  cloud  and  rain,  but  above  that  height  into 


snow.  Let  tne  raindrops  formed  below  be  carried  up  into 
the  snow  region  by  the  powerful  ascending  currents  of  the 
tornado  and  be  kept  suspended  there  a  little  while,  and  they 
become  frozen  into  hail.  If  now  these  be  thrown  quite 
outside  the  gyrations  of  the  tornado,  they  fall  to  the  earth 
as  a  shower  of  compact  homogeneous  hailstones  of  clear 
ice  of  cfrdinary  size.  If,  however,  they  are  caught  in  the 
descent  and  carried  in  toward  the  vortex  by  the  inflowing 
currents  on  all  sides,  they  are  again  rapidly  carried  aloft 
into  the  freezing  region.  A  number  of  such  revolutions 
of  ascent  and  descent  may  be  made  before  they  fall  to  the 
earth.  While  high  up  in  the  snow  region,  the  hailstones 
receive  a  coating  of  snow ;  but,  while  traversing  the  region 
lower  down  where  rain  yet  unfrozen  is  carried  up,  they 
receive  a  coating  of  solid  ice.  Thus  alternate  coatings  of 
snow  and  ice  are  received,  and  the  number  of  each  sort 
indicates  the  number  of  revolutions  described  before  the 
hailstones  fell  to  the  ground.  When  the  nucleus  is  com- 
posed of  compact  snow,  as  is  generally  the  case,  the 
hailstone  had  its  origin  high  up  in  the  snow  region  as  a 
small  ball  of  snow,  or  soft  haU  {Gravpel  in  German  and 
gresU  in  French) ;  but  when  it  is  composed  of  clear  ice 
throughout  it  was  formed  in  the  rain  region,  carried  up 
into  the  snow  region  and  there  frozen,  and  immediately 
aftervrards  fell  to  the  ground. 

Monthly,  Annxfal,  and  Ikkegttlakly  EECtrBRiNa 
Pkenombka. 

The  Temperature  of  the  Sea. — Figs.  8  and  9,  represent- 
ing the  distribution  of  the  temperature  of  the  surface 
water  of  the  ocean  for  the  two  extreme  months  February 
and  August,  are  reproduced  chiefly  from  The  Wind  ctnd 
Current  Charts  for  Pacific,  Atlcmtic,  and  Indian  Octant, 
published  by  the  British  Admiralty  in  1872. 

In  February  (fig.  8)  the  temperature  of  the  surface  of  the  sea  falU 
to  the  annual  mmimiun  over  the  northern  hemisphere,  and  rises 
to  the  maximum  in  the  southern  hemisphere.  The  course  of  the 
isothermals  more  closely  follows  the  latitudes  in  the  Paciiie,  Ibdian, 
and  South  Atlantic  Oceans ;  but  the  divergence  from  the  latitudes 
is  great  and  striking  over  the  North  Atlantic.  The  wider  and  more 
open  the  ocean  the  more  does  the  distribution  of  the  temperature 
approach  the  normal;  and  the  more  confined  the  ocean  Xh^  greater 
is  the  divergence  from  the  normal.  The  key  to  the  aiiomalAoa 
distribution  of  the  temperature  of  the  ocean  is  fiirnishi-d  hy  the 
charts  of  the  distribution  of  atmospheric  pressure  and  the  prevailing 
winds  of  the  globe.  So  far  as  observation  has  gone  itwould  appear 
that  the  surface  cturents  arc  practically  altogether  caused  by  the 
prevailing  winds  over  the  respective  oceans,  subject  to  such  deflexioiu 
in  their  courses  as  are  occasioned  by  the  land. 

In  the  southern  hemisphere  the  currents  on  the  west  side  of  the 
Indian  Ocean  flow  southwards  along  the  east  coast  of  Africa,  and, 
since  the  currents  here  pass  from  lower  to  higher  latitudes,  the 
temperature  along  the  whole  extent  of  this  coast  is  raised  consider- 
ably above  the  normal.  On  the  other  liand,  since  the  currents  on 
the  west  coast  of  Africa  flow  from  south  to  north — in  other  words, 
from  liigher  to  lower  latitudes — the  ocean  currents  which  impinge 
on  this  coast  have  a  temperature  much  under  the  normal.  The 
winds  and  currents  on  the  coasts  of  South  America  arc  pr^*cisely 
analogous  to  tliose  of  Africa,  and  the  distribution  of  the  tenijierature 
of  tlie  .sea  is  also  similar.  The  temperature  of  the  ocean  on  tlic  east 
coast  of  that  continent  is  for  the  same  latitudes  everywhere  higher 
than  on  the  west  coast.  Even  in  the  smaller  continent  of  Australia 
the  same  law  holds  good. 

In  the  northern  hemisphere  a  ditTcrcnt  distribution  of  the  tem- 
perature of  the  sea  is  seen  at  this  season.  In  tlie  Atlantic  the  tem- 
perature is  very  much  higher  on  the  west  of  Knrope  than  on  the 
east  of  America.  On  the  feaat  of  America  from  u  ilmington  to 
Coaton  occur  the  moat  rapid  transitions  in  the  mean  trmperature  of 
tlie  ocean  anywhere  on  the  globe,  the  tempeniture  falling  in  that 
short  distance  from  70°  to  30°,  whereas  on  the  eastern  side  of  the 
Atlantic  these  isothermals  pass  Cape  Verd  Islands  and  Spitzbergen 
respectively.  In  the  winter  montlis  the  prevailing  winds  of  the 
east  aid^  of  North  America  are  north-westerly,  wliilst  in  tlie  central 
and  eastern  portion  of  the  Atlantic  they  are  south-westerly,  Ihua 
pouring  along  the  ea-^t  coast  of  America  the  icy  currents  of  the 
Arctic  regions,  but  over  the  central  Atlantic  and  along  the  western 
shores  of  Europe  the  irerm  water*  of  southern  cluiutea.     Tha 


rSMFEBATDEE   OP   SEA.] 


METEOROLOGY 


133 


eut«rly  and  «outli-easterly  winds  of  Scandinavia  in  ivinter  lower 
the  isothennals  along  these  coasts.  A  strikiDg  feature  of  the  winter 
ijothcrmils  of  the  Atlantic  is  the  singularly  high  temperature  along 
the  centre  stretching  from  Spitzbergen  towards  the  south-west  and 
extending  in  a  modified  degree  as  far  south  as  the  West  Indies.  In 
the  Pacific  this  feature  of  the  mid-ocean  temperature  is  much  less 


pronoonced,  and  the  excess  of  tempcratnre  on  the  west  of  America 
over  what  occnrs  in  the  same  latitudes  of  eastern  Asia  is  not  so 
great  as  the  diflerenco  observable  between  the  two  sides  of  the 
Atlantic. 

The  highest  mean  temper.iturc  in  February  (85°)  occnrs  in  iiu 
Indian  Ocean  to  the  south-west  of  Sumatra,  and  there  is  a  patch  the 


temperature  of  which  is  84*  to  the  north  of  Madagascar.  The 
highest  means  in  the  Atlantic  are  82°  in  the  north-east  angle  of  the 
Gmf  of  Guinea,  and  81°  off  the  north-east  coast  of  Brazil  In  the 
Pacific  the  highest  are  83°  to  the  north  of  the  Hji  Islands  and  81° 
near  the  MarSiall  Islands. 


Fio.  8. — Isothennals  of  the  Surface  of  the  Sea  for  February. 

In  August  (%.  9)  the  southern  half  of  the  Ked  Sea  shows  a  mean 
temperature  of  90°,  being  the  highest  mean  recorded  for  the  ocean 
anywhere  at  any  season.  Patches  showing  a  summer  mean  of  85* 
occur  in  the  Chinese  Sea  to  the  east  of  Tonquin,  in  the  Bay  of 
Bengal  to  the  east  of  southern  India,  about  Socotra,  and  to  the 


west  of  Central  America.  But  the  most  extensive  regions  of  high 
temperature  are  in  the  west  of  the  Pacific  between  long.  165° 
E.  and  the  Philippines  northward  nearly  to  Japan  and  south- 
waid  to  Kew  Guinea,  and  the  Gulf  of  Mexico  and  the  adjoining 
part  of  the  Atlantic  as  far  east  as  long.  57°  W.  A  patch  of 
nmaxkably  low  temperature  occurs  in  the  Pacific  a  little  to  the 


Tig.  9.  — Isothennals  of  the  Surface  of  the  Sea  for  August. 

west  of  Galapagos,  where  the  mean  is  only  70°,  being  10°  lower  than 
what  occurs  anj-where  else  near  the  equator  at  this  season. 

The  influence  of  currents  is  strongly  expressed  in  the  temperature 
of  all  the  oceans.  In  the  south  of  Asia  the  monsoons  are  S.W., 
8.,  and  S.E.  Under  the  impulse  of  these  monsoonal  winds  an 
extensive  surface  drift  of  the  waters  of  the  equatorial  regions  is 


134 


METEOROLOGY 


[TElIPEEA.rUP.E. 


carried  northwards  towards  soutliern  Asia,  aiij  consequently  very 
high  temperatures  characterize  these  ocas  in  summer.  It  is  iustruc- 
tive  to  note  the  efl'ect  on  the  temiierature  of  the  sea  resulting  from 
the  region  of  high  atmospheric  pressure  in  the  Norlh  Atlantic  at 
this  season.  Out  of  this  anticyclouic  region  the  winds  hlow  in  all 
directions,  giving  rise  to  surface  currents  Ilowing  in  the  same  direc- 
tions. Thus  to  the  west  of  Africa  the  winds  and  currents  are  from 
north  to  south  ;  and  hence  the  temperature  of  this  part  of  the  ocean 
13  abnormally  reduced.  On  the  other  hand,  on  the  west  side  of  this 
high  pressure  area,  the  prevailing  winds  and  currents  are  from  south 
to  north,  and  it  will  be  seen  that  the  temperature  of  the  whole  of 
the  region  swept  by  the  southerly  winds  is  abnormally  raised.  On 
the  north  side  of  the  area,  the  winds  and  currents  are  westerly  as 
far  as  about  long.  35°  W. ,  and  over  that  space  the  isothermals 
follow  the  parallels  of  latitude.  Farther  to  eastward  and  northward 
the  prevailing  winds  become  south-westerly,  thus  propelling  north- 
wards along  the  western  shores  of  Europe,  by  oceanic  surface  drifts, 
the  warmer  waters  of  southern  latitudes.  Meanwhile  the  currents  of 
cold  water  and  ice  drifts  from  the  Arctic  regions  keep  the  tempera- 
ture off  America  to  the  north  of  Newfoundland  at  a  figure  con- 
siderably lower  than  is  observed  in  any  other  region  in  the  same 
latitudes.  In  August  similar  relations  exist  as  in  January  between 
the  east  and  west  coasts  respectively  of  South  Africa,  South 
America,  and  Australia,  all  of  which  are  readily  explained  by  the 
charts  of  mean  atmospheric  pressure  and  the  resulting  prevalent 
winds. 

One  of  the  most  striking  facts  of  ocean  temperature  is  that  the 
temperature  of  the  Southern  Ocean  from  about  50"  to  60"  S.  lat. 
is  practically  the  same  in  January  and  August,  a  circumstance  due 
chiefly  to  the  magnificent  icebergs  of  that  ocean. 

The  Taiiperature  of  the  Land. — In  regions  where  the 
rainfall  is  distributed  through  all  the  months  of  the  year, 
and  where  snow  covers  the  ground  for  only  a  small  part 
of  the  year,  the  mean  temperature  of  the  soil  nearly  equals 
that  of  the  air.  But  when  the  year  is  divided  into  wet 
and  dry  seasons,  and  when  snow  Ues  during  a  considerable 
portion  of  the  year,  the  mean  annual  temperature  of  the 
soil  may  be  above  or  below  that  of  the  air.  The  greatest 
difference  between  the  temperature  of  the  soil  and  that  of 
the  air  occurs  where  the  sm^ace  of  the  ground  is  covered 
during  several  months  with  snow.  Snow  is  a  bad  con- 
ductor of  heat,  and  thus  obstructs  the  free  propagation  of 
the  cold  produced  by  radiation  downwards  into  the  soil, 
and  the  escape  of  heat  from  the  soil  into  the  air.  In  this 
way,  over  a  considerable  portion  of  the  Russian  empire, 
the  temperature  of  the  soil  is  considerably  in  excess  of  that 
of  the  air.  Thu.s  at  a  place  120  miles  south  of  Archangel 
the  temperature  of  the  soil  is  10°  higher  than  that  of  the 
air;  and  at  Semipalatinsk  it  is  9°  higher. 

The  daily  changes  of  temperature  only  affect  the  soil  to 
depths  of  about  4  feet.  The  precise  depth  varies  with 
the  degree  of  the  svm-heat  and  with  the  nature  of  the  soil. 
Similarly  the  heat  of  summer  and  the  cold  of  winter  give 
rise  to  a  larger  annual  wave  of  heat  propagated  downwards, 
the  amplitude  of  which  diminishes  with  the  depth  till  it 
ceases  to  be  perceptible.  Principal  Forbes  showed  from 
observations  on  the  Calton  Hill,  Edinburgh,  that  the  annual 
variation  is  not  appreciable  lower  than  40  feet  below  the 
surface,  and  that  under  25  feet  the  change  of  temperature 
through  the  year  is  small.  The  depth  at  which  the  annual 
variation  ceases,  or  where  the  temperature  remains  constant, 
is  a  variable  depending  on  the  conductivity  and  specific 
heat  of  the  soil  or  rock,  but  particularly  on  the  difference 
between  the  summer  and  winter  temperatures.  The  rate 
at  which  the  annual  wave  of  temperature  is  propagated 
downwards  is  so  slow  that  at  Edinburgh,  at  a  depth  of  21 
feet,  the  highest  annual  temperatvu-e  does  not  occur  till 
January  4,  and  the  lowest  till  about  July  13,  thus  revers- 
ing the  seasons  at  this  depth.  '  At  Greenwich,  at  a  depth 
of  25 1  feet,  these  phases  of  the  annual  temperature  occur 
on  November  30  and  June  1. 

Professor  Everett  in  the  Report  of  the  British  Association  for  1879 
ha-i  summarized  the  results  of  the  observations  of  underground  t<!m- 
peraturo.  The  temperature  of  the  surface  of  the  ground  is  not 
sensibly  influenced  by  the  flow  of  heat  from  below  upwards,  but  is 
determined  by  atmospheric  and  astronomical'conditions.     The  tem- 


perature gradient  is  defined  as  the  rate  of  increase  of  the  temperature 
downwards,  and  it  may  be  taken  as  averaging  one  degree  Fahrenheit 
for  every  50  or  60  feet,  the  exact  rate  in  particular  cases  being  very 
variable.  Thus  the  temperatui-o  graditnt  of  the  soil  is  a>>oul  five 
times  steeper  than  the  temperature  »,radient  of  the  air.  The 
temperature  gradient  is  steepest  beneath  gorges  and  least  steep 
beneath  ridges  ;  and  hence  the  underground  annual  isothennals  are 
flatter  than  the  uneven  surfaces  above  them.  This  is  the  case  even 
ivith  the  uppennost  isothermal  of  the  soil,  and  the  flattening 
increases  as  we  pass  downwards  until  at  a  considerable  depth  they 
become  horizontal  Where  the  surface  of  the  ground  and  the  iso- 
thermal surfaces  beneath  it  are  horizontal,  the  How  of  heat  is  verti- 
cal, and  the  same  quantity  of  heat  flows  across  all  sections  whicB 
lie  in  the  same  vertical.  In  this  case  the  flow  across  a  horizontal 
area  of  unit  size  is  equal  to  the  product  of  the  temperature  gradhint 
by  the  conductivity,  if  the  latter  term  be  used  in  an  extended  sense, 
so  that  it  includes  convection  by  the  percolation  of  water,  as  well 
as  conduction  proper ;  and  hence,  in  comparing  different  strata  in 
the  same  vertical,  the  gradient  varies  in  the  inverse  ratio  of  the 
conductivity. 

Since  the  efl'ects  of  the  cold  generated  by  nocturnal  radiation 
mostly  accumulate  on  the  surface  of  the  earth,  but  the  eiTects  of 
solar  radiation  are  spread  to  some  height  by  ascending  currents  from 
the  heated  ground,  it  might  be  expected  that  the  annual  tempera- 
ture of  the  surface  layer  of  the  soil  would  be  lower  than  that  of  the 
air  resting  over  them.  Observations  prove  that  such  is  the  case. 
Springs  which  have  their  eoiuces  at  greater  depths  than  that  to 
which  the  annual  variation  penetrates  have  a  constant  temperutnre 
throughout  the  year,  and  if  they  do  come  from  a  depth  considerably 
greater  than  this  they  may  be  regarded  as  giving  a  very  close 
approximation  to  the  mean  annual  temperature  of  the  place.  The 
temperature  of  cellars  is  also  very  Dear  the  mean  annual  temperature 
of  tlie  locality ;  at  any  rate  this  t.;mperatnre  may  be  secured  for 
cellars  anywhere. 

Distribution  of  Temperature  in  the  Atmosphere. — Of  the 
larger  problems  of  meteorology,  the  distribution  of  tempera- 
ture in  the  atmosphere  over  the  land  surfaces  of  the  globe 
was  the  first  that  received  an  approximate  solution  (by 
Humboldt).  But  as  regards  the  ocean,  which  comprisea 
three-foMths  of  the  garth's  surface,  the  question  of  the 
monthly  and  annual  distribution  of  temperature  in  the 
atmosphere  over  it  can  scarcely  yet  be  said  to  have  been 
seriously  looked  at.  The  isothermals  of  the  temperature 
of  the  atmosphere  which  cross  the  oceans  continue  still  to 
bo  drawn  essentially  from  observations  made  on  the  islands 
and  along  the  coasts  of  these  oceans.  The  first  step 
towards  the  solution  of  this  vital  problem  in  climatology 
and  other  branches  of  meteorology  is  the  construction  of 
charts  of  mean  montlily  temperature  of  the  surface  water 
of  the  sea  over  all  parts  of  the  ocean  from  which  observa^ 
tions  for  the  purpose  are  avadable.  In  prosecuting  this 
line  of  inqidry,  excellent  work  has  been  dona  by  the 
Meteorological  Office  as  regards  parts  of  the  Atlantic 
between  the  tropics  and  the  ocean  to  the  south  of  Africa, 
and  ako  by  the  Dutch,  French,  and  German  meteorologists. 
With  such  charts  it  would  not  be  difficult,  by  a  careful 
comparison  during  the  same  intervals  of  time  between  the 
temperature  of  the  surface  of  the  sea  and  that  of  the  air 
resting  over  it,  to  construct  monthly  charts  of  the  tempera- 
ture of  the  atmosphere  over  the  oceans  of  the  globe. 

In  this  connexion  the  whole  of  the  ohser^-ations  of  the  tempera- 
tures of  the  air  and  »ea  made  on  board  the  "Challenger  "  have  been 
examined,  an<l  sorted  into  one  hundred  and  seventy-four  groupa 
according  to  geographical  position,  and  the  diflerenees  entered  on  a 
chart  of  the  route  of  the  expedition.  In  the  Southern  Ocean  between 
latitudes  45°  and  60'  the  temperature  of  the  sea  was  lower  than 
that  of  tile  air,  the  mean  diiference  being  1°*4.  The  temperature 
of  the  air  is  hfro  higher  owiug  to  the  prevailing  "W.N.W.  win-la, 
and  that  of  the  sea  lower  owing  to  the  numerous  icebergs.  To 
south  of  lat.  60°  S.  the  sea  was  nearly  2°"0  warmer  than  the  air, 
the  result  in  this  case  being  due  to  the  open  sea,  which  keeps  up  a 
higher  surface  temperature,  and  to  an  increased  jirevalcnoe  in  these 
higher  latitudes  of  southerly  (rinds,  thus  lowering  the  temperature 
of  the  air. 

The  period  during  which  the  temperature  of  the  sea  exceeded 
that  of  the  air  was  from  June  1874  to  March  18"6,  or  during  that 
part  of  the  cruise  from  Sydney  to  Kew  Zealand,  and  through  the 
East  India  Islands  to  Ilong  Kong  and  thence  to  the  Admiralty 
Islands.  During  the  whole  of  this  time,  except  when  passing  the 
north  of  Austrili>,  the  sea  waa  much  warmer  than  the  air,  th« 


TSHPEBATUBE.] 


METEOROLOGY 


135 


ge-crJ  excess  being  from  2°  to  3',  rising  even  near  Tongatabu  to 
upwards  >f  i°.  The  climate  of  the  southern  part  of  this  extensive 
region  at  the  reasons  ■■isited  has  a  large  rainfall,  sinch  clond,  and 
consequently  a  comparadreij  jmiH  evaporation  and  sunshine.  In 
June,  when  the  "Challenger"  passed  the  north  of  Australia,  the 
climate  was  very  dry,  the  sunsnine  strong,  and  the  evaporation 
large,  and  there  the  sea  was  slightly  colder  than  the  air.  In  the 
Atmntic  between  lat.  20°  N.  and  20°  S.  the  sea  was  everywhere 
warmer,  the  mean  excess  being  about  a  degree ;  and  in  the  Pacific 
ietwcen  lat.  30°  N.  and  30°  S.  the  sea  was  also  warmer,  the  mean 
excess  being  a  degree  and  a  half. 

On  the  other  hand,  in  the  Atlantic  from  lat.  40°  to  20°  N.  the 
9ea  was,  on  the  mean,  half  a  degree  colder  than  the  air.  This  region 
ia  remarkable  for  the  high  pressure  which  oveiapreads  it,  for  the 
winds  and  currents  which  now  out  in  all  directions,  for  its  clear 
skies,  strong  sunsbine,  and  consequently  Lirge  evaporation,  by  which 
the  temperature  of  the  surface  of  the  sea  ia  lowered,  and  that  of 
the  air  resting  on  it,  being  open  to  the  heating  iuduenca  of  the  sun, 


is  raised.  Similarly  in  the  North  PaciBc  from  lat.  40°  to  30°  th« 
temperature  of  the  surface  of  the  sea  was  half  a  degree  lower  than 
that  of  the  air. 

These  remarks  apply  ouly  to  the  observations  made  stjictly  ou 
the  open  sea.  Near  land  very  great  differences  were  observed 
which  varied  with  season.  Thus  at  Hong  Kong  during  the  latter 
half  of  November  1874  the  sea  was  3°  7  warmer  than  tile  air,  the 
low  temperature  of  the  air  at  this  season  being  caused  by  the  lower 
temperature  of  the  land  and  the  northerly  winds  which  then  prev.ii! ; 
on  the  other  hand,  at  Valparaiso  in  November  and  December  of  tlw 
following  year  the  sea  was  5*  8  colder  thau  the  air  during  the  thrc; 
weeks  the  "Challenger"  was  there,  the  diflerence  being  due  to  the 
cold  oceanic  current  which  sweeps  northwards  past  that  coast,  and 
the  rapid  increase  in  the  temperature  of  the  air  at  that  titne  of  the 
year.  These  results  will  help  us  in  gaining  some  knowledge  of  the 
temperature  of  the  air  over  the  oceans  of  the  globe  in  February  and 
August,  taken  in  connexion  with  a  careful  examination  of  the  lea 
temperature  of  these  months  represented  in  figs.  8  and  9. 


Fio.  10. — January  Isothermals  of  the  Surface  of  the  Globe. 


The  distribution  of  tempemture  over  the  surface  of  the 
globe  is  sho^vn  by  figs.  10  and  11,  which  represent  the 
temperature  of  the  two  extreme  months  January  and  July 
for  the  eleven  years  1870  to  1880.  The  region  of  highest 
temperature,  which  may  be  regarded  as  comprised  between 
the  north  and  south  isothermak  of  S0°,  forms  an  irregularly 
shaped  zone,  IjTng  in  tropical  and  partly  in  subtropical 
countries.  On  each  side  of  this  warm  zone  the  tempera- 
ture diminishes  towards  the  poles,  and  the  lines  showing 
snccessively  the  gradual  lowering  of  the  temperature  are, 
roughly  speaking,  arranged  parallel  to  the  equator,  thus 
showing  in  an  unmistakable  manner  the  predominating 
influence  of  the  sun  as  the  source  of  terrestrial  heat.  While 
this  decrease  of  temperature  corresponds  in  a  general  way 
to  what  may  be  called  the  solar  climate,  there  are  great 
deviations  brought  about  by  disturbing  causes. 

Among  these  disturbing  causes  the  unequal  distribution 
of  land  and  water  holds  a  prominent  place.  In  January 
the  earth  presents  to  the  perpendicular  rays  of  the  sun  the 
most  uniform  eiu^ace,  or  the  largest  water  surface,  and 
in  July  the  most  diversified  surface,  or  the  greatest  extent 
of  land.  Hence  the  zone  of  the  earth's  surface  comprised 
between  the  isothermaU  of  80°  is  less  irregular,  and  also 
.spreads  over  an  area  more  restricted,  in  January  than  in 
July.  In  J'lly  the  areas  enclosed  by  the  isothermals  of 
£0°  and  90°  are  much  larger  in  the  Old  World  than 
13  the  Nsw,  it  being  the  former  which  presents  the  krger 


land  surface  to  the  perpendicular  rays  of  the  sun ;  and  in 
January,  the  summer  of  the  southern  hemisphere,  the  moat 
extensive  area  of  high  temperature  occurs  in  Africa  and 
the  least  in  Australia,  the  high-temperature  area  of  South 
America  being  intermediate.  In  contrast  to  this  tLe  belt 
of  temperature  exceeding  80°  is  of  least  breadth  where  it 
crosses  the  Pacific  and  Atlantic  Oceans,  the  absolute 
minimum  breadth  being  in  July  in  the  Pacific,  the  largest 
ocean,  where  the  disturbing  influence  of  the  land  is  least. 

During  the  cold  months  of  the  year,  when  the  sun's  heat 
is  least  and  the  effects  of  terrestrial  radiation  attain  the 
maximum,  the  greatest  cold  is  over  the  largest  land 
surfaces  which  slant  most  to  the  sun.  Thus  the  lowest 
mean  temperature  that  occurs  anywhere  or  at  any  season 
on  the  globe  is  -55°-8  at  Werchojansk  (lat.  67°  34'  N., 
long.  133°  51'  E.)  in  north-eastern  Siberia.  In  Arctic 
America  the  lowest  isothermal  is  —  40°-0.  During  the 
winter  the  ocean  everywhere  maintains  a  higher  tem- 
perature in  all  regions  open  to  its  influence,  as  i.5  seen,  not 
only  in  the  higher  latitudes  to  which  the  isothermals  push 
their  way  as  they  cross  the  Atlantic  and  Pacific,  but  also 
in  their  irregidar  courses  over  and  near  the  Jlediterranean, 
Black,  Caspian,  and  Baltic  Seas,  Hudson's  Bay,  the  mouth 
of  the  St  Lawrence,  the  American  lakes,  and  all  other  lar.ge 
sheets  of  salt  and  fresh  water.  The  disturbing  influence 
of  sheets  of  water  on  the  temperature  in  all  seasons  is  very 
strikingly  shown  when  the  isothermals  are.drawn  for  every 


136 


METEOROLOGY 


rXEMPEKATUEB. 


degree,  these  marking  out  the  prominent  features  of  local 
climates,  a  knowledge  of  which  is  of  so  great  importance  to 
the  agriculturist,  the  horticulturist,  and  the  invalid.     Figs. 


12  and  13  represent  charts  of  temperature  of  this  descrip- 
tion for  the  British  Islands  for  1870-1880  from  the 
Jour,  of  ^cot.  Meteor.  Soc,  vol  vi.     In  the  wijeter  of  the 


Fio.  11. — July  Isothermal  of  the  Surface  of  the  Globe. 


BOUthcm  hemisphere  the  depressing  influence  of  the  land 
on  the  temperature  is  bat  sHghtly  felt,  owing  to  the  small 


east  of  AustraUa  and  in  the  basin  of  the  La  Plata,  a  lower 
temperature  prevails  in  the  interior. 

Another  prominent  disturbing  cause  operating  on   the 


FiQ.  12.— Mean  Tempc-ruturc  of  the  British  Islamls  in  January. 


extent  of  the   land   surfaces  and  the   comparatively  low 
latitudes  to  whigh  they  extend  southwaids.     In  the  south- 


Fio.  13. — Mean  Temperature  of  the  British  Islands  in  July. 


mean  temperature  is  to  be  found  in  the  seasonal  areas  of 
low  and  high  mean  pressure  in  their  connexion  with  the  pre- 
vailing winds.     Of  these  the  most  marked  is  the  system  of 


TEWPEEATCrEE.J 


METEOROLOGY 


137 


low  pressure  about  Iceland  during  the  tuinter  months  (see 
fig.  14).  Since  this  region  of  low  pressure  gives  to  western 
Europe  itB  prevailing  sotith-west  and  south  winds,  and  to 
North  America  its  north-west  winds  in  winter,  it  is  plain 
that  the  temperature  of  western  Europe  is  thereby 
abnormally  raised  by  the  simple  fact  of  its  prevailing 
winds  coming  from  the  ocean  and  from  lower  latitudes, 
and  that  the  temperature  of  North  America  is  abnormally 
lowered  by  its  prevailing  winds  coming  from  the  Arctic 
regions  and  from  land.  The  opposite  action  of  these  two 
winds,  which  are  part  and  parcel  of  the  same  atmospheric 
disturbance  about  Iceland,  is  shovni  from  the  fact  that, 
while  the  mean  temperature  of  the  south  coast  of  Hudson's 
Eay  in  January  is  —  20°,  in  the  same  latitude  in  the 
Atlantic  to  the  west  of  Scotland  it  is  aa  high  as  44°,  or 
64°  higher.  A  similar  though  less  striking  result  accom- 
panies the  low-pressure  area  in  the  north  of  the  Pacific  in 
winter. 

Another  area  of  low  mean  pressure  which  powerfvilly 
affects  the  temperature  is  the  low  barometer  which  over- 
spreads the  interior  of  Asia  during  the  summer  months 
(see  fig.  17).  Since  from  this  disposition  of  the  pressure  the 
prevailing  winds  of  Europe  and  western  Asia  are  north- 
west and  west,  and  over  eastern  Asia  south-east  and  east, 
it  follows  that  the  temperature  is  abnormally  raised  on  the 
eastern  side  and  depressed  on  the  western  side  of  the  con- 
tinent by  the  direction  from  which  they  severally  receive 
their  prevailing  winds.  This  is  well  shown  by  the  course 
of  the  summer  isothermals  of  80°,  70°,  60°,  and  50°  across 
the  Old  Continent. 

Since  the  strongest  insolation  occurs  where  the  air  is 
<lriest,  the  hottest  summer  climates  are  met  with  in  those 
tropical  and  subtropical  regions  where  no  rain  falls.  The 
most  extensive  of  the  rainless  regions  during  the  summer 
months  is  perhaps  that  which  extends  from  the  Punjab 
westwards  through  Persia,  Arabia,  and  North  Africa  to 
Spain.  This  is  the  region  where  the  hottest  climates  of 
the  globe  arc  to  be  encountered.  Similarly  no  rain  falls  at 
this  time  of  the  year  in  lower  California  and  the  States 
adjoining,  and  this  feature  of  the  climate,  taken  in  con- 
Bexion  with  the  relatively  low  temperature  of  the  coast  due 
to  the  winds  and  ocean  currents  from  the  north  which 
sweep  past  it,  results  in  sharp  contrasts  of  temperature 
within  short  distances  such  as  have  no  parallel  in  any  other 
climate. 

Of  the  areas  of  seasonal  high  mean  pressure,  the  high 
barometer  of  Central  Asia  in  ^vinter  stands  out  in  character- 
istic prominence  (see  fig.  14).  Now,  since  the  prevailing 
winds  which  necessarily  form  a  part  of  this  feature  are  south 
and  south-west  over  Russia  and  western  Siberia,  the  tempera- 
ture of  these  inland  regions  is  considerably  higher  than 
would  otherwise  be  the  case.  On  the  other  hand,  since  the 
prevailing  winds  are  north-west  in  eastern  Asia,  the  tempera- 
ture of  these  regions  is  thereby  abnormally  depressed.  It 
is  this  consideration  chiefly  which  explains  how  it  is  that, 
while  the  mean  January  temperature  in  latitude  60°  and 
longitude  120°  E.  is  -  30°,  in  the  same  latitude  but  in 
longitude  43°  E.  the  mean  'temperatiu-e  is  10°,  or  40° 
higher,  even  though  both  regions  are  equally  continental  in 
their  character. 

The  high  mean  pressure  in  the  summer  in  the  Atlantic 
between  Africa  and  the  United  States  has  with  its  system 
of  -ninds  the  most  decided  influence  in  bringing  about  the 
abnormal  distribution  of  the  temperature  of  that  and 
adjoining  regions.  Since  on  its  west  side  the  prevailing 
winds  are  necessarily  southerly,  the  temperature .  of  that 
region  is  abnormally  raised,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  since 
on  its  east  side  the  winds  are  northerly,  the  temperatuie 
of  the  region  is  abnormally  depressed.  The  result  of  these 
■t^vo  opposite  winds  is  seen  in  the  slanting  direction  of  the 


isothermal  of  80°  across  the  Atlantic,  which  slanting 
direction  is  continued  far  into  the  interior  of  North  America 
for  the  reasons  already  stated. 

These  important  bearings  of  cyclonic  and  anticyclonic 
areas  on  temperature  and  climate  may  be  thus  summarized. 
The  temperature  is  abnormally  raised  on  the  east  sides  of 
cyclonic  areas,  and  abnormally  depressed  on  the  west  sides ; 
but,  on  the  other  hand,  temperature  is  abnormally  raised 
on  the  west  sides  of  anticyclonic  areas  and  depressed  on 
their  east  sides.  In  the  southern  hemisphere  these  direc- 
tions are  reversed. 

Another  set  of  influences,  powerfully  affecting  the  tem- 
perature, come  into  play  where  the  siu^ace  of  the  land 
rises  above  the  sea  into  elevated  plateaus,  lofty  peaks,  or 
mountain  ranges.  Thus  it  has  been  observed  on  Ben 
Nevis  and  other  mountains  that  the  mud  during  the  day 
in  summer  exhibits  a>n  ascensional  tendency  due  to  the 
circumstance  that  the  temperature  of  the  surface  of  the 
mountain  is  heated  in  a  much  greater  degree  than  the  air 
strata  at  the  same  levels  all  around  it.  An  ascensional 
current  consequently  rises  from  the  mountain,  which  is 
maintained  at  a  steadily  stronger  rate  than  at  lower  levels, 
because  the  drain  from  the  updraught  is  easily  supplied 
from  the  free  surrounding  atmosphere.  It  is  the  strong 
insolation  at  high  elevations  in  the  summer  months  which 
explains  the  excessively  high  day-temperatures  encountered 
in  the  Rocky  Mountains ;  and  from  the  same  conditions, 
viz.,  the  rarity  and  purity  of  the  atmosphere,  by  which 
terrestrial  radiation  is  but  httle  checked,  come  the  low 
temperatures  of  the  nights  of  these  climates  in  the  same 
season.  From  this  cause  it  follows  that  the  elevated  lands 
in  the  interior  of  continents  tend  to  reduce  mean  atmo- 
spheric pressure  in  summer  to  a  greater  extent  than  woiUd 
otherwise  be  the  case.  In  winter,  on  the  other  hand,  the 
temperature  of  elevated  regions  in  the  interior  of  continents 
is  very  much  colder  than  that  of  the  surrounding  atmosphere 
at  the  same  height.?,  because  in  such  regions  the  air  is 
exceedingly  dry  and  lare,  and  consequently  radiation  to 
the  cold  regions  of  space  but  little  checked.  Hence  down 
the  slopes  of  these  high  lands  there  are  poured  in  all 
directions  descending  currents  of  very  Cold  air,  which 
intensify  the  rigours  of  the  winters  experienced  on  the  low 
lands  round  their  base,  where  accordingly  the  lowest  mean 
winter  temperatures  occui-.  These  elevated  lands  thus 
materially  add  to  the  high  atmospheric  pressure  of  the 
interior  of  continents  during  ihe  cold  months  of  the  year. 

But  it  is  ocean  streams  and  ocean  currents  which  produce 
the  greatest  abnormalities  in  the  distribution  of  the  tempcia- 
ture  of  the  air,  and  a  glance  at  figs.  10  and  11  will  show 
that  it  is  in  the  North  Atlantic  where  this  cause  is  most 
strikingly  seen.  The  increase  thus  accruing  to  the  winter 
temperature  is  greatest  about  the  north  of  Norway.  It  is 
also  very  great  in  the  British  Islands;  thus,  if  no  more 
heat  were  received  than  is  due  to  their  position  on  the  globe 
in  respect  of  latitude,  the  mean  winter  temperature  of 
Shetland  would  be  3°  and  that  of  London  17°.  But 
mainly  owing  to  the  heat  given  out  by  the  Gulf  Stream 
and  other  warm  currents  of  the  Atlantic  their  mean  winter 
temperatures  are  respectively  about  39°"5  and  39°,  Shetland 
being  thus  benefited  36° '5  and  London  22°.  The  chart  of 
the  ^winter  temperature  of  the  British  Islands  well  illustrates 
the  influence  of  the  surrounding  ocean  in  maintaining  a 
higher  temperature.  It  will  be  seen  that  the  south-west 
of  Ireland  is  7°  warmer  than  the  east  coast  of  England  in 
the  same  latitudes.  The  strong  drift  current  from  near 
Behring's  Strait  southward  along  the  coast  of  America  lias 
a  powerful  influence,  particularly  in  lowering  the  summer 
temperature  of  that  coast, — thus  bringing  about,  in  con- 
junction with  the  dry  rainless  climate  of  the  interior,  what 
are  perhaps  the  most  violently  contrasted  climates,  within 
^  SVI.  —  i8 


J35 


METEOROLOGY 


[aqueous  vxpotr*. 


aarrow  limits,  as  regards  their  temperature.  The  deflexions 
of  the  isothermals  near  the  Baltic,  Mediterranean,  Black, 
and  Caspian  Seas  and  the  freshwater  lakes  of  America 
all  point  10  tLo  disturbing  influence  of  these  sheets  of 
water  on  the  temperature. 

The  liei-'lit  and  direction  of  mountain  ranges  is  an 
important  element  in  deteinuidng  climate.  If  the  ranges 
are  perpendicular  to  the  prevailing  winds  and  of  a  con- 
siderable height,  they  drain  the  winds  of  much  of  thiir 
mo;stiU"e,  thus  causing  to  places  to  leeward  colder  winters 
and  hotter  summers,  by  partially  removing  their  protecting 
screen  of  vapour,  and  e.^qiosing  them  more  completely 
to  solar  and  terrestrial  ladiation.  Of  this  Norway  and 
Sweden  and  the  British  Islands  form  excellent  illustrations. 
It  is  this  that  makes  the  most  important  distinctions 
among  climates  in  regions  near  each  other,  as  respects  both 
animal  and  vegetable  Ufe.  With  regard  to  the  decrease  of 
temperature  with  height,  very  much  yet  remains  to  be  done 
before  an  ajjproximation  to  the  law  of  decrease  can  be 
stated.  During  the  five  months  observations  Avere  made 
on  Bon  Kevis  in  the  summer  of  1881  the  difference 
between  the  mean  temperature  at  sea-level  adjoining  and 
at  the  top  of  the  Ben,  diOG  feet  above  the  sea,  was  iri°'7, 
■which  shows  a  mean  decrease  of  1°  Fahr.  for  every  280 
feet  of  elevation.  The  actual  differences  from  day  to  day 
varied  from  V'i  to  23°'2.  As  Ben  NeA-is  forms  a  peak, 
and  is  in  the  vnry  middle  of  the  strong  winds  from  the 
Atlantic,  it  is  highly  probable  that  this  rate  of  decrease  is 
a  close  approximation  to  the  true  decrease  of  the  tempera- 
ture of  the  air  during  the  svimmer  months  in  that  part  of 
the  British  Islands.  When  observations  are  made  on 
elevated  plateaus  of  some  extent,  the  rat«  of  decrease 
deduced  from  the  observations  will  be  less  than  the  true 
rate  in  the  free  atmosphere  in  summer  and  grenter  in 
winter.  The  rate  is  thus  a  variable  (juantity,  varying  with 
latitude,  situation,  dampness  or  dryness  of  the  air,  calm  or 
windy  weather,  and  particularly  with  tl)f'  reason  of  the 
year.  One  degiee  Fahrenheit  tor  every  SC"'.'  i.--  the  rat-e  of 
decrease  generally  assumed. 

Aiiwunt  of  Aqueous  Vapmir. — It  is  scarcely  possible  to 
overestimate  the  importance  of  a  knowh^lge  of  the  hori- 
Eontal  and  vertical  distribution  in  the  atmosphere  of  its 
aqueous  vapour,  for  it  may  be  truly  said  that  it  forms  one 
of  the  prime  factors  in  all  the  larger  problems  of  atmo- 
.spheric  physics.  A  first  rough  approximation  to  the  geo- 
graphical distribution  of  the  vapour  of  the  atmosphere  was 
published  by  Mohn  in  1875  in  his  G-rund:iige  der  Meteoro- 
Ifffie,  p.  84,  in  which  vapour-pressure  curves  are  drawn  for 
the  globe  for  January  and  July.  These  leave  much  still 
to  be  done,  not  only  in  a  fiu-ther  discussion  of  observations 
already  made,  but  also  in  improvement  of  the  methods  of 
observation  and  in  the  tables  for  their  reduction.  The 
chief  point  of  interest  in  Mohn's  vapour  curves  is  their 
striking  resemblance  to  the  isothermals  of  the  same  months, 
and  they  also  suggest  that  this  line  of  inquir)'  is  yet  des- 
tined to  make  large  contributions  to  our  knowledge  of  the 
unceasing  changes  which  occur  in  tlie  pressure,  temperature, 
cloud,  rain,  and  movements  of  the  atmosphere. 

Still  less  is  known  of  the  vertical  distribution  of  acjiieous 
vapour.  It  decreases,  like  temperature,  with  the  height, 
and  if  the  staiemeut  geuentlly  made  be  at  all  correct,  that 
half  of  the  A\holc  vapour  of  the  otmosiihere  is  contained  in 
the  lowest  GOOO  feet,  and  that  at  20,000  feet  higli  there  is 
only  about  a  tenth  of  what  is  at  the  earth's  surface,  the  rate 
of  decrease  with  height  proceeds  at  a  greatly  more  rapid  rate 
than  is  consistent  with  the  supposition  that  it  forms  an 
independent  vapour  atmosphere  existing  rmder  its  own 
pressure.'  The  establishment  of  an  increased  number  of 
high-level  stations,  and  a  more  systematic  inquiry  than  has 
yet  bteu  attempted  into  the  upper  ciUTtUvS  of  the  atmo- 


sphere, are  much  needed  in  the  further  development  of  tiiis 
branch  of  meteorolog)'.  In  carrjTug  out  the  inquiry, 
invaluable  assistance  will  be  obtained  from  observations  of 
the  diurnal  range  of  the  barometer  and  from  well-devised 
methods  of  obsernng  the  effects  of  solar  radiation  at  the 
earth's  surface. 

Amou7ii  of  Cloud. — In  Scotland,  which  lies  completely 
within  the  region  swept  by  the  south-westerly  winds  from 
(he  Atlantic,  and  presents  a  well-defined  mountain  range 
lying  across  the  track  of  these  winds,  the  clouds  have  a 
distinct  annual  period.  In  the  west,  at  places  quite  open 
to  these  westerly  breeze.s,  the  amounts  of  cloud  in  spring, 
summer,  autumn,  and  winter  are  respectively  67,  69,  71, 
and  74,  and  the  annual  mean  70.'  In  the  east,  in  such 
districts  as  East  and  ilid  Lothian,  which  have  extensive 
ranges  of  hills  between  them  and  the  Atiantio,  the  propor- 
tions are  09,  C3,  62,  and  60,  and  the  annual  mean  61. 
Thus  about  a  teuth  more  of  the  .-^ky  is  covered  with  cloud 
at  the  western  as  compared  with  the  eastern  situations,  and 
the  distribution  of  cloud  difrers  materially  in  western  and 
eastern  '-liuiates.  In  the  west  winter  is  the  cloudiest 
season,  but  in  the  east  it  is  summer,  and  these  are  respec- 
tively the  months  when  most  rain  falls  in  the  several 
climates.  Everywhere  .spring  is  the  .season  when  the  sky 
is  cli'iarest.  In  England,  owing  to  the  protection  afforded 
by  Ireland  and  Wales  to  the  west  and  the  comparative 
absence  of  ranges  of  hiUs,  the  amount  of  cloud  is  Ic^^s  than 
in  Scotland,  and  it  is  more  equally  distributed  over  the 
country.  The  minimum  amount  occurs  in  spring,  and  the 
maximum  in  winter  and  autumn. 

Sonio  of  tlie  best  illustrations  of  the  seasonal  variation  in  the 
distribution  of  cloud  are  aflorded  by  the  Old  Continent.  These 
variations  are  the  simple  cousequence  of  the  systems  of  wiai 
caused  by  the  high  winter  and  low  summer  pressures  of  that  conti- 
nent. In  eastern  Siberia  the  prevailing  winds  in  winter  are  N.W. 
or  continental,  and  in  siunmer  3.E,  or  oceanic;  and  accoi\]icgly 
;it  AJan,  ^Nci-tchinsk,  and  F.lagoweshtcbf-iisk  the  moan  amounts 
of  cloud  in  these  two  seasons  are  18  and  -11.  On  ttie  other  hand, 
in  western  Sibeiia  and  eastern  Europe  the  prevailing  winds  ia 
winter  are  S.  W.,  or  from  lower  to  higher  latitudes,  and  ia 
sumniei  N.W. ,  or  from  higher  to  lower  latitude?.  Kazan  niay^ 
taken  as  fairly  representing  this  extensive  region,  and  there  the 
amounts  oi  ;;ioud  for  the  four  seasons  beginning  witii  winter 
are  71,  48,  44,  and  62.  As  the  N.AV.  winds  of  summer  rise  over 
the  Ural  mountains  in  their  course,  condensation  of  the  ax|ueoq# 
vapour  is  increased,  and  Iience  over  this  region  the  cloud  in  winter 
and  siuumer  is  nearly  the  same,  the  mean  amounts  at  Bogoslovsk, 
Ekaterinburg,  an!  Zlatoust  being  respecti  vely  GG  and  52.  At  Tiflis 
and  Kutais,  sita.i'ad  on  the  high  ground  wliieh  lies  betwetin  the 
Black  Sea  and  r.,.-  south  of  the  Caspian  Sea,  the  means  for  winter 
and  summer  arc  f3  and  55.  On  the  eastern  coast  of  the  Black  Sea 
the  westerly  winds  of  summer  are  accompanied  with  the  annual 
maximum  cloud,  the  winter  and  summer  amounts  at  Redut-Kale 
being  59  and  C'.i.  In  Central  Siberia,  to  which  the  S.W.  winds  <rf 
^\'inte^  do  not  extend,  and  to  the  nortli  of  latitude  55°,  tlie  amount 
of  cloud  is  much  di'iiinislied,  and  the  cloudiness  of  summer  is  nearly 
the  same  as  that  of  winter.  ■  , 

In  India,  in  all  regions  which  lie  open  to  the  summer  monsoon, 
the  minimum  amount  of  cloud  occurs  during  the  winter  and 
the  maximum  in  summer, — the  mean  amounts  being  It)  i'.ud  74 
at  CaUutta,  16  and  56  at  Bombay,  48  and  71  at  Colombo,  and 
25  and  90  at  Rjingoon.  At  Trineomalee,  on  the  ea.st  cc;ist  of 
Ceylon,  and  thus  exposed  to  the  rains  of  the  N.E.  monsoon 
of  winter,  and  largely  pi-otccted  from  the  rains  of  the  S.W. 
moisoon  of  summer,  tlie  amounts  of  cloud  in  these  seasons  .ii-e  52 
and  59.  At  l).irj;iing  (0912  feet)  and  Chakrata  (7022  feet  high), 
both  on  the  llimahiyas,  whither  the  summer  monsoon  penetrates, 
the  mean  amounts  are  respectively  53  and  86,  and  43  and  73.  At 
Leh,  in  K.ashmir,  the  amounts  are  69  and  61,  the  excess  being  thus 
in  winter.  lu  tlie  Punjab  and  to  westwards,  or  those  regions  ia 
southern  Asia  to  which  tlie  summer  monsoon  does  not  extend,  the 
cloud  in  winter  is  cverj'whero  greater  than  in  summer.  Thus  the 
amounts  are  24  and  18  at  Mooltan,  33  and  25  at  Peshawar,  27  and 
10  at  Jacobabad,  and  at  Quctta,  in  lialuchistau,  5600  fe.  t  high,  42 
and  14.  Similar  relations  as  to  cloud  obtain  in  Australia  and  the 
other  continents  where  high  pressures  rule  in  the  interior  dnring 


*  In  this  section  the  amount  of  cloud  is  stated  in  pereeotages  of  tii« 

l.y  icvtred  with  ckud. 


JlTMOSrHBRIO   PEESSUKE.] 


METEOROLOGY 


139 


the  cold  months  and  low  pressures  daring  the  warm  months  of  tnc 
year.  The  maximmn  cloud  occuis~with  winds  from  tho  sea  and 
winds  adTancing  into  the  colder  regions  of  higher  latitudes,  and 
the  minimum  with  winds  which  have  traversed  an  extensive  track  of 
land  and  winds  advancing  into  the  warmer  regions  of  lower  lati- 
tudes. As  the  subject,  however,  is  essentially  one  with  rainfall,  it 
is  not  necessary  to  prosecute  it  further. 

The  other  atmospheric  movements  on  which  the  amount 
of  cloud  depends  are  the  ascending  and  descending  currents 
of  the  atmosphere, — the  ascending  currents  with  clouded 
ski'js  occurring  in  the  belt  of  calms  and  ove:  cyclonic  areas 
and  regions,  and  the  descending  currents  with  compara- 
tively clear  skies  over  anticyclonic  regions.  The  region 
of  maximum  vapour  and  densest  cloud-screen  on  the  globo 
is  the  equatorial  belt  of  calms  between  the  trades,  which 
has  an  annual  movement  northward  and  southward  with 
the  sun  as  already  explained.  To  ascensional  movements 
b  to  be  ascribed  part  of  the  cloudiness  of  the  southern  and 
eastern  sides  of  the  winter  cyclonic  regions  of  the  North 
Atlantic  and  North  Pacific,  and  of  the  cyclonic  regions  of 
low  summer  pressure  in  the  interior  of  Asia  and  other 
continents.     On  the  other  hand  the  comparatively  small 


amount  of  cloud  in  the  anticyclonic  regions  of  the  Atlantic 
and  Pacific  Oceans,  and  in  the  high-pressure  regions  of  fho 
interior  of  Asia  and  other  continents  during  the  cold  months 
of  the  year,  is  due  to  the  vast  down-currents  which  occupy 
the  centres  of  the  anticyclones,  and  which  become 
relatively  drier  as  they  descend  owing  to  the  increasing 
pressure  to  vhich  the  air  is  subjected. 

Distribution  of  Atmospheric  Pressure. — The  importance 
of  a  knowledge  of  the  distribution  of  atmosphsric  pres- 
sure, or  of  the  mass  of  the  atmosphere,  ever  the  globe 
in  its  varying  amounts  from  month  to  month  is  self- 
evident.  Observations  teach  us  that  windu  ore  simply 
the  movements  of  the  atmosphere  that  sot  in  from  where 
there  is  a  surplus  towards  where  there  is  a  deficiency  of 
air ;  and  observations  also  teach  that  isobaric  maps  (i.e., 
maps  showing  the  relative  distribution  of  mean  pressure) 
and  maps  showing  the  prevailing  %vinds  are  in  accordance 
with  each  other.  Since  prevailing  winds  to  a  large  extent 
determine  the  temperatme  and  rainfall  of  the  regions 
they  traverse,  isobaric  maps  may  be  considered  as  furnish- 
ing the  key  to  the  more  important  questions  of  meteoro- 


Isobars  of  the  Globe  and  Prevailing  Winds. 


logical  inquiry.  At  the  time  of  the  first  publication  of 
isobaric  maps  of  the  globe  in  186S,  it  was  impossible  to 
do  more  than  present  the  subject  in  its  broad  general 
features,  owing  to  the  scantiness  and  quality  of  the 
materials  then  existing.  But  since  then  meteorological 
stations  have  been  largely  multiplied  in  all  parts  of  the 
civilized  world,  and  the  general  adoption  of  the  issue  of 
storm  humings  has  necessitated  the  use  of  more  accurate 
barometers  and  uniform  methods  of  observing.  Since 
there  is  thus  now  the  means  of  a  more  exact  representation 
of  this  fundamental  datum  of  meteorology,  we  have 
prepared  a  new  set  of  isobaric  maps,  shewing  the  db-tribn- 
tion  of  the  earth's  atmosphere  and  the  prevailing  winds 
for  January  (fig.  14),  July  (fig.  17),  and  the  year.  They 
have  been  constructed  from  mean  values  calculated  for  the 
same  eleven  years  (1870-80  inclusive)  as  the  isothermal 
maps  figs.  10  to  13,  pressure  of  30  0  inches  and  upward.^ 
being  represented  by  solid  lines,  and  of  29'9  inches  and 
under  by  dotted  lines,  while  the  arrows  show  the  directions 
of  the  prevailing  winds  at  the  localities  indicated  by  the 
leepective  arrow-points. 


Mean  Aimosphfric  Pressure  in  January  (fig.  14). — In  this  month, 
when  the  influence  of  the  sun  on  the  northern  hemisphere  jails  to 
the  minimum,  the  greatest  pressures  are  massed  over  the  continents 
of  that  hemisphere,  and  the  least  presstires  over  the  nortbem  parts 
of  the  Atlantic  and  Pacific  Oceans,  over  the  Antarctic  Ocean  and 
southern  hemisphere  generally.  In  the  southei-n  hemisphere  there 
are  three  patches  where  pressure  rises  to  30  inchea,  wz.,  in  the 
Atlantic  bct^'oen  South  America  and  Africa,  south  of  the  Indian 
Ocean,  and  in  the  Pacific  between  Australia  and  South  Amei-ica. 

In  the  northern  hemisphere,  on  the  other  hand,  pressure  rises  in 
Central  Aeia  to  upwards  of  30".^  inches,  tho  mean  pressure  for 
January  being  ot  least  30 '4  inches  at  Peking.  SemipaJatinsk,  and 
Yenisei,  and  fully  30  6  inches  ai  Irkutsk  and  JTertchinsk,  in 
the  spper  basin  of  the  Amur.  This  is  the  reeion  where  the 
normal  atmospheric  prcssu.-e  attains  to  a  maximum  which  is 
much  higher  than  is  reached  in  any  other  region  or  at  any  other 
time  of  the  year.  It  will  be  observed  that  this  region  of 
highest  pressure  occupies  a  position  near  the  centre  of  the  largest 
continent.  The  area  of  high  barometer  is  continued  v.cstward 
through  Europe,  through  the  horse  latitudes  .of  the  Atlantic  to 
Carolina,  snd  thence  through  the  United  States  to  California, 
whence  it  crosses  the  Pacific  to  Asia.  This  belt  of  high  pressure 
thus  completely  encircles  the  globe,  broadening  as  it  passes  tho 
land  and  contracting  as  it  crosses  the  ocean.  Its  greatest  breadth 
is  over  Asia  and  its  least  over  tho  Pacific,  or  where  Und  and 
oce&n  attain  respectively  their  mflvimnm  dimensions. 


METEOROLOGY 


140 

TV-  ™,iw  iinrlpr  tho  avcraco  cover  the  northern  portions 

,!^rZkF::X"l"c.nl  alsf  the  greater  mrt  of  the  Arct.c 
rerions  In  the  north  of  tho  Pacifie  the  "o™-!  r^""  [f  ^^^ 
^bont  29  6  inches  bet^Yeen  Kamoliatka  and  Afaska.  In  the 
nn? th  of  the  Atlantic,  howoyeN  a  still  lower  mean  pressure  obtains 
o%°  VJar':w^trt':tUtohing  from  leelandto  thesout^^^^ 
land,  the  normal  at  Stykkisholm  m  the  ""th-west  ot  IceUnd  bem 

southward  by  systenas  of  rnuch  h  gher  F--"-^ 'h  ^  ^^^^  ^^^^ 
found  in  the  Pacific.     Ihe  result  oi  uiui  B  ^ 

stronaer  winds  blow  northward  over  the  Atlantic  ^"'^  J™"*^    V 

^:a4^;;Tnf:3rof  u:.4"rttnW^^^  maybe  referred  to  as  con. 
'^Atelt'lVlow  pressure  passes  through  the  equatorial  regions 

St  U  lies  qSite  north  of  the  equator  even  ^-J-^^^'^.^ 
the  sun's  course  is  f-t^-^f  ^^^  ^and'  n 'tiV  XT  o'cLn  the 
Tositi  n^of  m:  Une  o??ow:t  p^efsur:  is  to  the  south  of  the  equator 
position  0' ^"»  ™°  .  ,  ^  ^^  a  slanting  course  from  near  the 
fnrtrofS"!  car  toward!  thence'towards  the  low  pres- 

Te  whiS^iTs  at  this  season  in  Australia  ;  its  course  is  then  a 
Utt  e  to  uoSvaids,  and  crosses  the  Pacific  to  th-^^'-l  Xf,  "^ 
'     V,    ,„  ,;„,      Ti-,  „.fh  ig  thus  a  devious  one,  being  nortu  o:  tne 

when  uTdcr  the  influence  of  the  regions  of  low  pressure  ^-h'ch  now 
wnen  '^""'^^^  An^tralia  central  and  southern  Africa,  and  central 
Sl'lm"  rt  In  tht  tTough  of  barometric  depression  nearly 
S^^^^Hie  trZical  storms  of  the  Indian  Ocean  have  their  origin. 

There  are  several  important  modifications  of  the  isobaric  linea 
as  orwfnaUy  published.'  In  1863  the  region  of  lowest  P"^™^°  ^° 
"  ""o"'-  J  i,„,„;-„t,rr-<  in  winter  was  represented  as  extenaing 
Z:iX^  t^'n'oltrcIstW  ■  now  the  La  of  lowest  pressure 
is  sTen  to  extend  from  Iceland  south-westward  to  Greenland.  In 
Connexion  with  this  point  Captain  Hoffmeyer  discussed  the 
weathe  of  th  North  AftanHc  during  several  winter  n>on  1-.  »°'i 
■weaiuei  ui  L.I10  TQ7Q   wViiVh  (^nnrlusivclv  showed  that  tne 

published  tl"=/;;^"";,^^JY„^i  Iceland  exertsln  the  distribution  of 
aTm::;t£p1e" "owTrlfTnrutiL  notbeforcnroperlyrecog. 
nS  resuuFi  '  in  the^mean  minimum  of  pressure  te.ng  localized 
S  stinc  ly  to  the  south-west  of  Iceland,  and  that  ^.addition  to  th^ 
Smum  there  are  two  ^"bordinate  minima,  one  in  Dav^  Strait, 
and  the  other  in  the  Arctic  Ocean  midway  between  Jan  Wayen  anu 
the  Lofoten  Isles.  Tlie  investigation  further  estab  ished  the  fact 
!^,t  w^en  anv  narticular  one  of  these  three  minima  plays  an 
mtrtant  part!  tUotl^r  two  either  do  not  appear  at  all  or  occupy 
aTe  a  suLrdinate  place,  and  that  according  as  one  or  other  of 
fc  min  ma  of  pressure  predominates  so  is  the  character  of  the 
l„!^l,riL7  regards  mildness  or  severity,  of  the  winter  of  north- 


[iTMOSrHHUO 

f„™«  in  the  earlier  nart  of  their  course  is  from  Tema  to 
i^erican  storms  m  the  earUerimrL  eentres  of  comparatively 

the  lakes.     ^'?,?fv°".'Y„w  barometer  readings,  cross  tl,«  southern 
rd:rh';a:;rsSei:rher:S:r;interpSsureishigherther, 

of  30  inches  is  deflected   to   the  souin  ej^i  Amkan      'ftiii 

the  isobars  is  particuhirly  '■flli"^''!^*^^,  the  noint  is  of  no  small 


FiQ    IS.-Isobars  of  Europe  for  January, 
ranean  and  the  countries  to  the  north  <>?  ^^f  ^^  wX^'tJ? 

«""?:^30°  0  fn:he  '"The*  1  tfeHs" ttiaTge/of  the  two,  a^nd  m.v 
re^^:^\d:d1.s'?hrpVon,ationoftheregi.nofhi^^^^^^^^ 

characterizes  the  Atlantic  '■^^'^^'Ld  within  the  isobar  30-15 
season.  The  Wgt-P'.o^'"^  "'=^„^e'"^'eni"it  covers  a  prettr 
inches  is  of  peculiar  interest      In  the  ^^'^"'^"^^^^  J  ^J, 

broad  area,  'but  to  the  north-east  it  contracts  f  » JJ  ^  j, 
between  the  Bay  of  B'3cay  and  th   Gul   o^  L^^^^  ^^  ^  P  ^^^ 

to  north-eastward  »«"°S  *fJ'X"  ,™  ewhat  suddenly  intor- 
its  prolongation  eas^vard  being  ^^^^^^  ;,',?„„,!  „gion  of  high 
rupted.    .-Stsome  distanc     o  the  e^t^^a  ^^  ^^^  ^^^^^^ 

pressure  is  met  with,  «luc  i  is  Pfope"y  'p„,,,i„ent  in  the  w  nler 
[hat  overspreads  the  interior  of    t    O'd  C',nt.nent  in^^^     ^^,^^ 

months,  if  ,«-f™.J^;:"'c^:o"|,*vien:a  liibach  and  the  upper 
LXr^^slopes^of'thfbas'S'of  the  Danube,  Sebastopol,  and  thence 

Zm^  rottrwordtits  position  occupiesthe  intenor  of  th.3 
the  naiuc.    >■"  "'i"'^' .       .  •  ^„  1  ;.  j^.  ;n«;tructivo  to  not«  that  tua 

b«^^-^:;H^HTZ^ks^in^  'It 


does  not,  however,  exactly  °'^"="1'\',  ,  " "jjorth   Sea.  owing 
lying  between  tho  M^d.torraneana„dtl.o  North   Se  J, 

tfoubt  to  the  circumstance  that  the  ^.rv  steep  na  »  ^^ 

from  France  to  Iceland  greatly  I"''"'    ,',«  PJXa    the  abnonn     . 
of  tho  northern  half  of  Franc.     I    f<^o-th„t^_t  ._^^^.^^  ^ 

high  pressure  which  so  f™arkamy  cua™  represented. 

1  '"S  C::^:^'A  Pre-ure  an,  separated  from  eaoh  oth« 


PRBSSUEE.] 


METEOKOLOCiY 


141 


by  a  large  area  of  comparatively  low  pressure  overspreading  the 
greater  portion  of  the  Mediterranean  Sea, — marked  off  in  fig.  15  by 
the  isobar  of  30  10  inches,  within  which  pressure  is  everywhere  less 
than  30  10  inches.  This  region  includes  an  area  of  still  lower 
pressure  within  the  isobar  of  30*05  inches,  bounded  by  Sicily, 
Corfu,  Athens,  and  Crete.  Hence  the  singularly  low  pressure  which 
characterizes  the  northern  part  of  the  Atlantic  at  this  season  has  its 
analogtic  in  the  south  of  Europe,  which  is  unquestionably  due  to 
the  higher  temperature  and  larger  humidity  of  the  climates  of 
Bouthern  Enrofte  which  they  owe  to  the  Mediterranean. 

It  is  dfserving  of  special  notice  that,  wliile  the  increase  of  the 
norntal  pressure  of  January  from  Genoa  to  Geneva  is  O'OSl  inch, 
it  is  only  0'021  inch  from  Trieste  to  Riva,  and  that  to  the  north 
of  the  Adriatic  as  far  as  latitude  50°  pressure  is  considerably  lower 
than  obtains  to  the  west  and  east  of  that  region.  An  examination 
of  the  daily  weather  maps  of  Europe  shows  that  not  unfrequently 
the  storms  of  north-western  Europe  on  advancing  as  far  to  east- 
ward as  Denmark  seem  to  connect  themselves  in  some  degree  with 
Mediterranean  storms  prevailing  at  the  time  through  a  north  and 
Bouth  prolongation  of  a  system  of  low  pressures.  The  comparative 
frequency  with  which  this  occurs  is  probably  occasioned  by  the 
general  drift  to  eastward  of  the  atmosphere  of  Europe,  considered  as 
a  whole,  taken  in  connexion  with  the  high  mountainous  ridge 
which  bounds  the  Adriatic  on  its  eastern  side,  from  which  it  follows 
that  the  air  overspreading  the  deep  basin  of  the  Adriatic  is  often 
highly  saturated  with  vapour,  and  this  highly  satui-ated  air  is 
drawn  northwards  through  centi^al  Europe  when  north-western 
Btonns  of  Kurope  with  low  barometric  depression  centres  .pass  across 
Denmark  and  the  Baltic.  Thus  the  low  normal  pressure  to  the 
north  of  the  Adriatic,  separating  the  two  regions  of  high  pressure 
to  the  east  and  west  of  it,  is  in  some  respects  analogous  to  the 
low  normal  pressure  of  the  Mississippi  valley,  which  separates  the 
higher  normal  pressures  of  the  Kocky  Mountains  and  of  the  south- 
eastern of  the  United  States. 

The  influence  of  land  and  water  respectively  in  the  cold  season  of 
the  year  is  well  sho^vn  in  fig.  16,  which  represents  for  every  0"020 
inch  the  normal  pressure  over  the  British  Islands  in  January, 
drawn  from  means  calculated  for  two  hundred  and  ninety-five 
stations.^ 

It  is  in  the  winter  months  that  the  isobars  of  the  British  Islands 
crowd  most  closely  together,  and  in  accordance  therewith  strong 
winds  are  then  most  prevalent  The  crowding  of  the  isobars 
reaches  the  maximum  iu  January,  forming  what  is  probably  the 
steepest  niean  monthly  barometric  gradient  that  occurs  at  any 
season  anjTv^here  on  the  globe.  The  point,  however,  to  which 
attention  is  here  drawn  is  the  remarkable  influence  of  St  George's 
Cliannel  and  the  Irish  Sea  in  diminishing  the  pressures  as  thev 
cross  these  seas,  and  of  the  land  in  increasing  the  pressure,  which 
t  in  the  curves  occupj-ing  approximately  the  central  districts 


of  Great  Britain  from  the  Isle  of  Wight  to  Cape  Wrath.     Tlii* 
shews  on  a  comparatively  small  scale  Uie  influence  of  the  land  ''n. 


Fig.  16  — Isobars  of  the  British  Islands  for  January, 
raising  the  normal  pressure,  and  of  the  sea  in  lowering  it,  during:  the: 


Fio.  17. — July  Isobars  of  the  Globe  and  Prevailing  Winds. 


oold  months  of  the  year,  just  as  is  seen  on  the  grand  scale  in  central 
Siberi*  and  the  north  of  the  Atlantic 


'  Bee  Journal  qf  Scot.  MeUorolcgical  SoeiUy,  voL^-'  pp.  4-21. 


Mean  Atmospheric  Pressure  in  July  {^g.  17).— In  this  month  thfr 
physical  conditions  are  the  reverse  of  what  obtains  in  January,  tho 
effects  of  the  influence  of  the  sim  on  the  temperature  and  humidity 
of  the  atmosphere  rising  to  the  maximum  in  the  northern  and  fall-- 


142 


METEOKOLOGY 


[ATMOSrHERIC 


ing  to  tho  minimum  in  the  southern  licmiaphere.  "With  the  solar 
conditions  reversed,  a  comparison  of  figs.  14  and  17  shows  that  the 
distributionof  atmospheric  pressure  in  July  is,  considered -in  a  broad 
sense,  the  reverse  of  what  takes  place  in  January. 

In  tho  southern  hemisphere  atmospheric  pressure  during  the 
winter  season  is  above  the  general  average  of  30  inches  between 
lat.  10°  and  40°  S.  This  belt  of  high  pressure  encircles  the  globe, 
and  embraces  four  regions  where  pressure  rises  considerably  above 
this  general  high  average.  These  regions  are  in  South  Africa,  about 
lat.  20°,  where  it  rises  to  a  little  above  30 '20  incliey;  in  Au'^tralia, 
wliere  it  rises  on  tho  Murray  river  very  nearly  to  30 "20  inches; 
in  South  America,  where  In  the  basin  of  the  La  Plata,  about  lat.  30', 
it  rises  to  30*13  inches  ;  and  in  the  ocean  to  westwards,  where  it 
reaches  30  02  inches.  The  point  to  be  noted  with  respect  to  tlie 
position  of  these  centres  of  liigh  pressure  at  this  season  is  that  they 
occur  over  surfaces  between  latitudes  20'  and  36°.  As  comparetl 
with  January,  pressure  in  July  over  nearly  the  whole  of  this  broad 
bolt  of  tho  southern  hemisphere  is  about  two-tenths  of  an  inch 
higher,  which  is  the  simple  result  of  season.  A  comparison  of 
January  and  July  shows  that  this  largo  accession  to  the  pressure  of 
the  southern  hemisphere  is  accompanied  by  an  extraordinary  dimi- 
nution of  pressm-e  over  the  continents  of  the  northern  hemisphere. 

Now,  just  as  the  greatest  excess  of  pressxirc  during  the  winter 
of  the  northern  hemisphere  occurs  in  the  continent  of  Asia,  so  the 
greatest  diminution  ot  pressure  in  the  summt-r  months  takes  place 
in  the  same  continent.  The  position,  however,  of  these  two  extremes 
is  far  from  being  in  the  same  region  or  even  near  each  other.  In 
the  Old  Contintmt  the  maximum  occurs  in  tlie  valley  of  the  upper 
Amur,  where,  at  Nertchinsk,  th«i  iiovmal  pn  -sure  in  January  is 
about  30 '500  inches  ;  whereas  the  lowest  normal  pressure  in  July  is 
29  "412  inchos,  and  occurs,  so  far  as  observation  enables  us  to  locate 
it,  at  Jacobabad  on  the  west  side  of  the  ba-;iu  of  the  Indus.  The 
difference  of  these  two  normals  is  1  "188  inch ;  and  over  no  inconsider- 
able portion  of  central  Asia  the  normal  pressure  of  July  is  an  inch 
less  tlian  that  of  January.  In  other  words,  the  influence  of  the  sun 
in  summer  as  exerted  on  the  temperature  and  aqueous  vapour  of  the 
atibosphere  and  atmospheric  movements  resulting  therefrom  is  so 
powerful  as  to  remove  a  thirtieth  part  of  the  whole  mass  of  the 
air  from  this  extensive  region. 

The  large  extension  in  recent  yeara  of  good  meteorological  stations 
over  the  Russian  and  Indian  empires  enables  us  to  lay  down  with 
much  greater  precision  than  formerly  thi;  lines  of  pressure.  Of  tho 
changes  indicated  by  the  new  isobars,  the  most  important  jierhaps 
is  the  position  of  the  region  of  minimum  pressure  in  Asia,  which  is 
now  seen  to  occupy  the  basin  of  the  Indus,  and  thence  stretches 
over  a  somewhat  broad  region  to  westward  nearly  as  far  as  the  head 
of  the  Persian  Gulf.  The  point  is  of  no  small  importance  in  atmo- 
splieric  physics,  inasmuch  as  it  places  the  region  of  least  normal 
pressure  in  July  as  close  geogiaphically  to  the  region  where  at  the 
time  terrestrial  temperature  is  highest  as  the  region  of  highest  normal 
pressure  in  January  is  situated  with  respect  to  the  region  where  in 
that  month  terrestrial  temperature  is  lowest  in  Asia. 

The  July  isobars  of  India  are  of  singular  interest,  and  imply  con- 
sequences of  tho  utmost  pi'actical  advantage  to  tho  empire.  From 
Cutch  southward  the  normal  pressure  is  everywhere  higher,  and 
considerably  so,  along  the  whole  of  the  west  than  it  is  in  the  cast  in 
the  same  latitudes,  the  difference  being  approximately  half  a  tenth 
of  an  inch.  This  is  represented  on  the  map  by  the  slanting  of  the 
isobars  from  north-west  to  south-east  as  they  cross  this  part  of 
India  ;  and  it  is  tp  be  noted  that  the  cast  and  west  coasts  of  Ceylon 
show  the  same  manner  of  distribution  of  the  pressure.  The  conse- 
quence of  this  jieculiarity  in  the  distribution  of  the  pressure  is  that 
the  summer  monsoon  blows  more  directly  from  the  ocean  over 
western  and  southern  India  than  would  have  been  tho  case  if  tho 
isobars  had  lain  duo  east  and  west,  and  thus  probably  precipitates  in 
its  course  a  more  abundant  rainfall  over  this  part  of  the  empire. 
But  a  more  important  consequence  follows  from  the  geographical 
distribution  of  the  pressure  over  the  valley  of  the  Ganges.  If  the 
normal  pressure  there  had  diminished  ia  tho  .manner  it  does  over 
India  to  the  south  of  the  Gangetic  valley,  the  winds  would  have 
been  south-westerly  and  the  summer  climate  practically  rainless, 
'i'his,  however,  is  not  tho  case,  but  tho  normal  nrcssure  diminishes 
westwards  along  the  valley  of  tho  Ganges,  as  tne  following  mean 
July  pressures  will  show  :— Calcutta,  29-576  inches  ;  Patna,  29*535 
inches ;  Lucknow,  2&-522  inches  ;  Roorkce,  29-505  inches  ;  and  in 
crossing  '.westward  into  the  Punjab  pressure  falls  still  lower — to 
2!) "439  inches  at  Mooitan  and  29'n2  inches  at  Jacobabad.  Indeed 
pressure  in  July  is  0*220  inches  lower  at  Jacobabad  than  at  Sibsagar 
on  the  Br.ihmaputra,  nearly  in  the  same  latitude.  It  necessarily 
follows  from  this  distribution  of  tha  pressure  that  the  summer  mon- 
soon, which  blows  northward  over  tho  15ay  of  Bengal,  is  deflected 
into  an  E.O.E.  wind  which  fills  the  whole  valley  of  the  Ganges, 
distributing  on  its  way  a  most  generous  rainfall  over  thai  magnili- 
cent  region. 

Ihp  inlluonce  of  the  land  in  lowering  tho  pressure  in  summer  is 
well  "illustrated  by  the  course  of  tho  isobars  over  western  Siberia 
and  Russia,  where  pressuro  ia  seen  to  fall  relatively  lowest  along 


the  middle  line  of  the  Old  Continent.  In  this  connexion  it  is 
interesting  to  note  tho  course  of  the  isobar  of  29*90  inches  orer 
that  part  of  Europe  where  the  breadth  of  the  land  is  considerably 
increased — between  tho  Baltic  and  Constantinople.  In  contradis- 
tinction to  this  tho  influence  of  the  Aral,  Caspian,  anil  Black  Seas 
in  maintaining  a  higher  pressure  appears  in  the  remarkable  pro- 
longation eastward  of  tiic  isobars  of  higher  pressure  over  the  region 
of  these  sea.i,  being  in  striking  contrast  to  the  lower  pressures  which 
prevail  to  the  north  and  south. 

The  lowering  of  the  normal  pressure  is  very  decided  in  the  inland 
regions  of  Spain,  North  Italy,  and  Scandinavia.  The  effect  iamost 
strongly  seen  in  Spain-,  tho  largest  and  compactest  of  these  regions. 
Thus,  while  tho  normal' pressure  diminishes  between  Lisbon  and 
Barcelona  from  30*086  to  30'048  inches,  tho  sea-level  prcssui-fe  at 
Ma<lrid  falls  nearly  to  30*000,  and  the  pressure  at  Sai-agoisa  and 
Valladolid  is  nearly  as  low.  This  lowering  of  the  pressure  over  the 
interior  influences  materially  its  summer  climate.  As  remarkable 
an  illustration  of  the  principle  as  can  be  pointed  to  anywhere  is  seen 
in  the  north  of  Italy ;  for,  while  the  nonnal  pressure  at  Moncaiieri 
is  29*941  inches,  at  Genoa  on  the  coast  the  relatively  liigh  normal 
of  29*992  inclies  is  maintained,  the  distance  of  the  two  places  being 
about  40  miles.  To  the  east  pressure  rises  to  29  970  inches  at 
Venice,  and  to  westward  to  30  "023  inches  at  Geneva.  Over  Scandi- 
navia, along  the  west  coast  from  the  Arctic  circle  southward,  the 
normal  pressure  equals  or  exceeds  29*80  inches,  the  variation  beinff 
comparatively  small ;  and  along  the  coast  from  the  head  of  the  Gulf 
of  Bothnia  to  the  south-east  of  Sweden  pressure  also  exceeds  29*80 
inches,  and  the  increase  from  north  to  soutli  proceeds  at  a  slow  rate. 
In,  however,  the  strictly  inland  districts  to  the  north-cast  of 
Christiania,  which  lie  immediately  to  the  east  of  the  Scandinavian 
mountains,  and  sheltered  by  tliat  lofty  range  from  the  winds  of  the 
Atlantic,  pressure  is  considerably  lower  than, it  is  along  the  cist  and 
west  coasts  of  the  peninsula.  Owing  to  this  peculiar  distribution 
of  the  pressure,  tho  winds  which  necessarily  result  from  it  give  a 
much  finer  summer  climate  to  the  south-cast  of  Norway  and  to  the 
strictly  inland  part  of  Sweden  than  would  otherwise  be  tho  case. 

The  remarkable  curving  northward  of  the  isobar  of  29*80  inches 
so  as  to  include  Lapland  within  it  points  probably  to  the  influence 
of  the  White  Sea  and  the  wonderful  lake  system  of  Lapland  in 
maintaining  a  higher  summer  pressure  over  that  country,  by  which 
tho  northerly  winds  that  blow  tov/ards  the  low-pressure  region  of 
Central  Asia,  to  the  serious  deterioration  of  the  summer  climate  of 
nortliern  Siberia,  do  not  extend  so  far  to  westward  as  Lapland. 

The  distribution  of  the  normal  pressure  over  North  America  ia 
quite  analogous  tp  what  prevails  over  Asia,  but,  the  contint-nt  being 
less,  the  diminution  of  pressure  in  the  interior  is  also  coii'^spond- 
ingly  less.  The  highest  normal  pressure,  30*077  inches,  is  found  in 
the  south-east  in  Florida,  and  the  lowest,  29*780  inclics,  in  Utah,  the 
difference  being  thus  0*297  inch.  Another  region  of  relatively  high 
pressure  is  ia  the  north-western  States  and  British  Columbia  to  the 
north;  the  maximum,  near  the  mouth  of  the  Colurnbui  river, 
seaches  30*062  inches,  being  thus  nearly  as  high  as  wltat  occurs  in 
Florida.  These  two  regions  are  merely  extensions  of  important. 
high-pressure  areas  which  at  this  season  are  highly  characteristic 
features  of  the  meteorology  of  the  North  Pacific  and  North  Ailantic 
respectively 

Of  these  two  re^ons  of  high  pressure  the  one  overspread  ing  the 
Atlantic  between  the  United  States  and  Africa  is  the  more  striking, 
being  not  only  tho  region  where  pressure  is  highest  anywhere  o«i 
the  globe  durhig  the  months  of  June,  July,  and  August,  but  where 
the  normal  pressure  reaches  the  highest  point  attained  at  any  season 
over  the  ocean.  The  highest  point  reached  by  the  normal  pressure 
over  the  land  at  any  season  occurs,  as  has  been  pointed  out,  near  tho 
centre  of  Asia,  or  approximately  in  the  middle  region  of  the  largest 
continuous  land  surface  on  the  globe  during  the  coldest  months  of 
the  year.  On  t^lo  other  hantl,  the  highest  pressure  over  the  ocean 
occurs  during  the  warmest  months  of  tho  year,  and  not  over  the 
largest  water  surface,  but  in  the  middle  regions  of  tho  North  A  tlantic, 
where  the  breadth  is  only  about  half  that  of  the  water  surface  of  tho 
North  Pacific. 

From  the  essential  differences  between  these  two  sets  of  pheno- 
mena it  may  be  inferred  that  the  extraordinarily  high  pleasure 
which  is  so  marked  a  feature  of.  the  meteorology  of  Central  Asia 
during  tho  cold  months  of  the  year  is  a  direct  consequence  of  the* 
lowering  of  the  temperature  of  tlie  land  of  Asia  and  of  tho  atmo* 
sphere  rcjting  on  it  during  the  time  of  the  year  when  the  cffecU  of 
solar  radiatio'ri  are  at  the  annual  minimum,  and  of  terrestrial  radia- 
tion at  tho  annual  maximum.  But  tho  determination  of  the  place 
and  time  of  highest  pressure  over  the  ocean  must  be  regarded  sa 
indirectly  brought  about.  Tho  physical  conditions  undo.*  which  it 
occurs  are  those  :— it  happens  (1)  At  tho  time  of  the  year  when  the 
earth  presents  the  largest  surface  of  land  to  the  sun,  and  (2)  over 
that  part  of  the  ocean  which  ia  most  comnletcly  surroundo<l  by  these 
higlily  heated  land  surfaces.  This  high  summer  pressure  of  the 
Atl.anlic  has  its  origin  in  the  upper  currents  of  the  atmosphere. 

Mean  Atmospheric  Pressure  for  Ike  Ye.ar.—T\io  distribution  of 
the  annual  atmospherio  prcssui'e  may  be  considered  as  representiiig 


PSBTAILUra  VINDS.] 


METEOROLOGY 


142 


the  souu  of  the  influences  directly  and  indirectly  at  work  throughout 
the  year  in  increasing  or  diminishiiig  the  pressure  of  the  atmosphere. 
There  are  two  regions  of  high  pressure,  the  one  north  and  the 
other  south  of  the  equator,  which  pass  completely  round  the  globe 
as  broad  belts  of  high  pressure.  The  belt  of  high  pressure  in  the 
southern  hemisphere  lies  nearly  parallel  to  the  equator,  and  is  of 
nearly  uniform  breadth  throughout ;  but  the  belt  north  of  the 
equator  has  a  very  iiTegular  outline,  and  shows  great  differences  in 
its  breadth  and  its  iiiolination  to  the  equator.  These  irregularities 
whoUy  depend  on  the  peculiar  di-stribution  of  land  and  water  which 
obtains  in  the  northern  hemisphere. 

These  two"  zones  of  high  pressure  enclose  between  them  the  com- 
paratively low  pressure  of  the  tropics,  through  the  centre  of  which 
runs  a  narrower  belt  of  still  lower  pressure,  towards  which  the  trade- 
winds  on  either  hand  blow.  Considered  in  a  broad  sense,  there 
are  only  three  regions  of  low  pressure,  the  equatorial  one  just 
referred  to,  and  oue  round  each  pole  bounded  by  or  contained 
within  the  zones  of  high  pressure  just  described.  The  most 
remarkable  of  these,  so  far  as  it  is  kno^vn,  is  the  region  of  low 
pressure  about  the  south  pole,  which  remains  low  throughout  the 
year,  playing  the  principal  rdle  in  the  i\'ind'systems  of  the  Antarctic 
zone,  in  its  heavy  snowfall  and  rainfall,  and  in  the  enormous  ice- 
bergs which  form  so  striking  a  feature  of  the  water  of  the  Southern 
Ocean. 

The  depression  around  the  north  pole  contains  within  its  area  two 
distinct  centres  of  still  lower  pressure,  the  one  filling  the  northern 
part  of  the  Atlantic  and  the  otlier  that  of  the  Pacific.  Of  these  two 
the  low-pressm-o  area  round  Iceland  is  the  deeper,  and  is  probably 
occasioned  by  the  steeper  barometric  gradients  and  stronger  winds 
which  prevail  over  the  North  Atlantic.  The  broad  equatorial  zone 
of  low  pressure  also  contains  two  distinct  regions  characterized  by 
fitill  lower  pressures.  The  larger  of  the  two  stretches  across 
southern  Asia  from  Assam  to  the  head  of  the  Persian  Gulf,  and  is 
entirely  due  to  the  very  low  pressures  which  form  so  marked  a  feature 
in  the  summer  meteorology  of  that  part  of  Asia.  The  regions  of 
the  middle  Indus  and  upper  Ganges  occupy  the  centre  of  this  low- 
pressure  area,  where  normal  pressure  falls  short  of  29 '80  inches. 
The  second  area  of  lowest  equatorial  pressure  is  in  the  centre  of 
Africa. 

It  may  be' here  pointed  out  that  the  whole  of  these  areas  of  low 
mean  annual  pressure  possess  the  common  characteristic  of  an 
excesvive  amount  of  moisture  in  the  atmosphere.  The  Arctic  and 
Antarctic  zones  of  low  preasure,  and  the  equatorial  low-pressure  zone 
generally,  may  be  regarded  as  all  but  wholly  occasioned  by  the  com- 
paratively large  amount  of  vapour  in  their  atmosphere.  As  regards 
the  region  of  low  pressure  of  southern  Asia  in  summer,  it  is 
remarkable  that,  while  the  eastern  half  which  overspreads  the  valley 
of  the  Ganges  is  characterized  by  a  moist  atmosphere  and  large 
Tainfall,  the  western  half  of  it  is  singolarly  dry  and  practically  rain- 
less, and  that  the  central  portion  of  this  remarkable  depression 
occupies  a  region  where  at  the  time  the  climate  is  one  of  the  driest 
and  hottest  anywhere  to  be  found  on  the  globe.  Hence,  while  the 
vapour  is  the  more  important  of  the  disturbing  iijfluences  at  work 
in  the  atmosphere,  the  temperature  also  plays  no  inconspicuous  part 
<lirectly  in  destroying  atmospheric  equuibriura,  from  which  result 
winds,  storms,  and  many  oilier  atmospheric  changes. 

The  Prevailing  Winds  of  the  Globe. — If  atmospheric 
pressors  were  equal  in  all  parts  of  the  earth  we  should 
have  the  physical  conditions  of  a  stagnant  atmosphere. 
Such,  however,  is  not  the  case.  Let  there  be  produced  a 
concentration  of  aqueous  vapour  over  a  particular  region, 
or  let  one  region  show  a  higher  temperature  than  what 
prevails  around  it,  thea  from  the  different  densities, 
and  consequently  different  pressittes  thereby  produced, 
the  equilibrium  of  the  atmosphere  is  destroyed,  and,  as 
might  be  expected  from  the  laws  of  aerial  fliiids,  move- 
ments of  the  air,  or  winds,  set  in  to  restore  the  equili- 
brium. Now  every  one  of  the  isobaric  maps  we  have 
given,  as  well  as  every  isobaric  map  which  has  been  made 
from  recorded  observations,  indicates  very  considerable 
disturbance  of  the  equilibrium  at  the  surface  of  the  earth. 
All  observation  shows  that  the  prevailing  winds  of  any 
region  at  any  season  of  the  year  are  simply  the  expression 
of  the  atmospheric  movements  which  result  from  the  dis- 
turbance of  the  equilibrium  of  the  atmosphere  indicated  by 
the  isobaric  maps  for  tliat  season  and  region. 

All  winds  maybe  regarded  as  caused  directly  by  differences 
of  atmospheric  pressure,  just  as  the  flow  of  rivers  is  caused 
by  differences  of  level,  the  motion  of  the  air  and  the  motion 
of  the  water  being  both  referable  to  gravitation.  The  wind 
blows  from  a  r*;^ou  of  higher  towards  a  region  of  lower- 


pressure, — in  other  words  from  where  there  is  a  stirplus  to 
where  there  is  a  deficiency  of  air ;  and  this  taJkes  place 
whether  the  differences  of  prtssuie  be  measoiable  by  the 
barometer,  as  is  generally  the  case,  or  not  readily  mea.sur- 
able,  as  in  the  case  of  sea  breezes,  squalls,  and  sadden  gusts 
of  wind  which  are  of  short  duration. 

So  far  as  is  known,  differences  of  atmospheric  pressure, 
and  consequently  all  winds,  originate  in  changes  occurring 
either  in  the  temperature  or  the  humidity  of  the  air  over 
restricted  regions.  Thus,  if  two  regions  contiguous  to  each 
other  come  to  be  of  imequal  temperature,  the  air  of  the 
warmer  region,  being  specifically  lighter,  will  ascend,  and 
the  heavier  air  of  the  colder  region  will  flow  in  below  to 
take  its  place.  Of  this  class  of  winds  the  sea  and  land 
breezes  are  the  best  examples.  Again,  if  the  air  of  one 
region  comes  to  be  more  highly  charged  with  aqueous 
vapour  than  the  air  of  surrounding  regions,  the  air  of  the 
more  humid  region  being  lighter  will  ascend,  while  tha 
heavier  air  of  the  drier  regions  will  flow  in  below  and 
take  its  place.  SLuce  part  of  the  vapour  will  be  condensed 
into  cloud  or  rain  as  it  ascends,  heat  is  thereby  di.<;engaged, 
and  the  enuilibrium  still  further  disturbed.  In  this  way 
c'  ;inate  gales,  storms,  tempests,  hurricanes,  and  all  the 
more  violent  commotions  of  the  atmosphere,  except  some 
of  the  forms  of  the  whirlwind,  such  as  dust  storms,  in  the 
production  of  which  very  great  differences  of  temperature 
are  more  immediately  and  exclusively  concerned. 

The  Trade- TFinds. — From  fig.  14,  giving  the  isobarics 
for  January,  it  is  seen  that  atmospheric  pressure  in  the 
Atlantic  ia  lower  near  the  equator  than  it  is  to  north 
and  south  of  it;  and  the  arrows  indicate  that  to  the  nortli 
of  the  tract  of  lowest  presstire  N.E.  winds  prevail  and 
to  the  south  of  it  S.E.  winds.  These  are  the  well- 
known  N.E.  and  S.E.  trade-winds,  which  thus  blow  from 
regions  of  high  pressure  towa-rds  the  tract  of  lower  pressure 
situated  midway  between  them.  The  trade-winds  do  not 
blow  directly  to  where  the  lowest  pressure  is,  but  in  a  slant- 
ing direction  at  an  angle  of  about  half  a  degree.  The  devia- 
tion from  the  direct  course  is  due  to  the  influence  of  the 
rotation  of  the  earth  on  its  axis  from  west  to  east, — an 
influence  to  which  all  winds  and  all  currents  of  the  ocean 
are  subject. 

In  virtue  of  this  rotation,  objects  on  the  earth's  surface 
at  the  equator  are  carried  round  towards  the  east  at  the 
rate  of  about  17  miles  a  minute.  On  receding  from  the 
equator,  however,  this  rate  of  velocity  is  being  continually 
diminished,  so  that  at  60°  N.  lat.  it  is  only  about  8J  miles 
a  minute,  ai)d  at  the  poles  nothing.  From  this  it  follows 
that  a  wind  blowing  along  the  earth's  surface  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  equator  is  constantly  arriving  at  places  which 
have  a  greater  eastward  velocity  than  itself.  As  the  wind 
thus  lags  behind,  these  places  come  up,  as  it  were,  against 
it,  the  result  being  an  east  wind.  Since,  therefore,  the 
wind  north  of  the  equator  is  under  the  influence  of  two 
forces — one,  the  low  pressure  near  the  equator,  diawing 
it  southwards,  and  the  other,  the  rotation  of  the  earth, 
deflecting  it  eastwards^it  w  ill,  by  the  law  of  the  composi- 
tion of  forces,  take  an  intermediate  direction,  and  blow  from 
north-east.  For  the  same  reason,  south  of  the  equator  the 
south  is  deflected  into  a  south-east  wind. 

In  the  Atlantic  the  north  trades  prevail  between 
latitudes  7°  and  30°  N.,  and  the  south  trades  between  lati- 
tudes 3°  N.  and  2.'5°  R.  These  limits  are  not  stationary, 
but  follow  the  sun,  being  farthest  to.  the  south  in  February 
and  to  the  north  in  August.  The  tract  of  low  pressure 
between  these  wind  systems  is  named  the  region  of  calms, 
owing  to  the  calm  weather  which  often  prevails  there,  and 
it  is  also  characterized  by  the  frequent  occmrence  of  heavy 
rains.  This  region  of  calms  varies  its  position  with  that 
of  the  sun.  reaching  its  most  northern  limit,  lat  11*  N., 


144 


METEOROLOGY 


[PEKVAILINO   WISD3, 


in  August,  and  its  most  southern,  lat.  V  N.,  in  February. 
Its  breadth  varies  from  3°  to  8°,  and  it  lies  generally 
parallel  to  the  equator.  It  is  to  be  noted  that,  in  the 
Atlantic,  the  region  of  calms  is  at  all  seasons  north  of  the 
equator. 

North  and  south  trades  also  prevail  in  the  Pacific  Ocean, 
separated  by  a  region  of  calms,  which  would  appear,  how- 
ever, to  be  of  less  breadth  and  to  be  less  clearly  defined 
than  ig  the  region  of  calms  in  the  Atlantic.  In  the  eastern 
portion  of  the  Pacific  the  region  of  calms  lies  at  all  seasons 
to  the  north  of  the  equator,  but  in  the  western  division  it 
is  considerably  south  of  the  equator  during  the  summer 
months  of  the  southern  hemi."?phere,  this  southerly  position 
being  in  all  likelihood  occasioned  by  the  extraordinarily  high 
pressure  in  Asia  in  its  relations  to  the  low  pressure  in  the 
interior  of  Australia  at  this  season.  During  the  summer 
months  of  the  northern  hemisphere  the  region  of  cahns 
wholly  disappears  from  the  Indian  Ocean  and  from  the 
western  part  of  the  Pacific  Ocean,  there  being  then  an 
unbroken  diminishing  pressure  from  the  latitude  of 
Mauritius  and  Central  Australia  northwards  as  far  as  the 
low  pressure  of  Central  Atia. 

Regions  of  light  and  variable  winds  and  calms  occur  at 
the  higher  limits  of  the  north  and  south  trades.  Except  in 
the  Pacific,  where,  owing  to  the  greater  breadth  of  that 
ocean,  they  spread  over  a  considerable  extent,  these  regions 
appear  but  in  circumscribed  patches,  such  as  characteri2e 
the  meteorology  of  the  North  and  South  Atlantic  about 
latitudes  26°  to  36°.  Of  these  regions  of  calms  the  most 
important  is  that  marked  off  by  the  high  pressure  in  the 
North  Atlantic,  between  the  United  States  and  Africa. 
This  is  the  region  of  the  Sargasso  Sea,  where  the  weather 
is  characterized  by  calms  and  variable  winds,  and  the  ocean 
by  its  comparatively  stiU  waters.  These  are  known  to 
seamen  as  the  "  horse  latitudes,"  and  are  essentially 
different  from  the  equatorial  region  of  calms.  The  latter, 
as  has  been  stated,  is  the  region  of  low  pressure  at  the 
meeting  of  the  north  and  south  trades,  where  the  climate 
is  distinguished  for  its  general  sunlessuess  and  heavy 
rainfall.  ~  On  the  other  hand,  the  calm  regions  in  the 
Atlantic  and  Pacific  Oceans  about  the  tropics  have  an 
atmospheric  pressure  abnormally  high,  clear  skies,  and 
the  weather  generally  sirnny  and  bright,  with  occasional 
sqnaUs. 

Numerous  observations  made  in  all  parts  of  the  globe 
establish  the  fact  that,  while  the  sxirface  winds  within  the 
tropics  are  directed  towards  the  equatorial  region  of  cahns 
in  such  a  manner  that  the  general  intertropical  movements 
of  the  atmosphere  or  prevaihng  winds  are  easterly,  the 
prevailing  winds  of  the  north  and  south  temperate  zones 
are  westerly.  The  westing  of  these  great  aerial  currents 
is  due  to  the  same  cause  that  gives  easting  to  the  trade- 
winds,  viz.,  the  rotation  of  the  earth  round  its  axis.  For, 
as  an  aerial  current  advances  into  higher  latitudes,  it  is 
constantly  arriving  at  regions  having  a  less  rotatory  velocity 
than  itself  ;  it  thus  outstrips  them  and  leaves  them  behind  ; 
in  other  words,  it  blows  over  these  places  as  a  westerly 
wind. 

While,  however,  the  general  prevalence  of  westerly  winds 
has  been  established  over  the  extratropical  regions  of 
Europe,  Asia,  Africa,  America,  and  Australia,  the  direc- 
tions which  in  different  seasons  and  at  different  places  are 
actually  found  to  prevail  often  differ  very  widely  from 
west.  An  examination  of  the  winds  at  one  hundred  and 
fifteen  places  pretty  well  distributed  over  the  northern 
hemisphere  reveals  the  iastructive' fact  that  almost  every 
place  shows  two  maximum  directions  from  which  winds 
blow  more  frequently  than  from  the  other  directions,  and 
that  one  of  these  two  directions  shows  a  consideiublo  excess 
over  the  other.     Thus,  for  example,  the  following  are,  on  a 


twenty  years'  average,  the  number  of  days  at  Greenwich 

each  wind  prevails  during  the  year: — N.,  41;  N.R,  49;  E., 

23;  S.E.,  21;  S.,  34;  S.W.,  103;  W.,  38;  N.W.,  24;  and 

calms,  32.     Hence  S.W.  and  N.E.  vrinds  are  there  more 

prevalent  than  winds  from  any  other  direction,  and  of  these 

two  winds  the  greater  maximum  direction  is  S.W.     If  the 

two  maximum  directions  be  sorted  into  groups,  then  the 

greater  Tna-nmnm  direction  occurs  as  follows : — 

from  S.S.^V.      to  W.  at  47  places 

,,     W.K.W.    „    N.  „  33      „ 

„     N.N.E.     „    E.   „  19      „ 

„     E.S.E.       „     S.   „  16       „ 

and  the  other  maximum  direction  is 

from  S.S.W.      to  W.  at  20  places 
.,     W.N.W.  „    N.    „  22       „ 
„     N.N.E.     „    E.   „  38       „ 
„     E.S.E.       „     S.    „  32       ,, 
This  result  of  observation,  so  different  from  what  was  long- 
accepted  as  being  in  accordance  with  the  generally  received 
theory  of  the  movements  of  the  atmosphere,  teaches  the 
important  lesson  that  the  region  towards  which  the  extra- 
tropical  winds  of  the  northern  hemisphere  are  directed  is 
not  the  region  of  the  north  pole. 

Prevailiiu)  Winds  in  January. — On  examimng  fig.  14, 
which  shows  the  distribution  of  atmospheric  pressure  in 
January,  it  is  seen  that  pressure  is  abnormally  low  over 
the  northern  portion  of  the  Atlantic — the  lowest  occurring 
between  Iceland  and  South  Greenland — from  which  it 
rises  as  we  proceed  in  a  S.W.  direction  towards  America, 
in  a  S.  direction  over  the  Atlantic,  and  in  a  S.E.  and  E. 
direction  over  Europe  and  Asia.  Now  what  influence  has 
this  remarkable  atmospheric  depression  on  the  prevailing 
winds  over  this  large  and  important  part  of  the  earth's 
surface  1  The  arrows  in  the  figure,  which  indicate  the 
prevailing  winds,  and  which  have  been  laid  down  from 
observations,  answer  this  question. 

At  stations  on  the  cast  side  of  North  America  the 
arrows  show  a  decided  predominance  of  north-west  winds; 
at  the  more  northern  places  the  general  direction  is  more 
northerly,  whereas  farther  south  it  is  more  westerly.  In 
the  Atlantic  between  America  and  Great  Britain,  in  the 
south  of  England,  in  France  and  Belgium,  the  direction  is 
nearly  S.W.  In  Ireland  and  Scotland  it  is  W.S.W.; 
in  Denmark  and  the  north-west  of  Russia  S.S.W.  ;  from 
St  Petersburg  to  Tobolsk  S.W.  ;  on  the  west  of  Norway 
generaUy  S.S.R;  and  in  Greenland,  the  north  of  Iceland, 
and  about  Spitzbergen  N.E.  Hence  all  the  prevailing 
winds  in  January  over  this  extensive  portion  of  the  globe 
may  be  regarded  as  the  simple  expression  of  the  difference 
of  atmospheric  pressure  which  prevails  over  the  different 
parts  of  the  region.  In  truth  the  whole  appears  to  flow 
vorticosely,  or  in  an  in-moving  spiral  course,  towards  the 
region  of  low  pressure  Ij-ing  to  the  south-west  of  Iceland, 
and  extending  ea^twai-d  over  the  Arctic  Sea  north  of  Russia. 
The  only  marked  changes  in  these  directions  of  the  wind 
thus  broadly  sketched  out  are  the  deflexions  caused 
by  the  various  mountain  systems  which  lie,  so  to  speak, 
embedded  in  these  vast  aerial  ciu-rents ;  of  these  the 
winds  in  the  south  of  Norway  afford  excellent  iUustni- 
tions. 

The  influence  which  this  peculiar  distribution  of  the 
pressure  over  the  north  of  the  Atlantic  exercises  in 
absolutely  determining  the  winter  climates  of  the  respective 
countries  is  most  instructive.  It  is  to  this  low  pressure, 
which  draws  over  the  British  Islands  W.S.W.  winds 
from  the  warm  waters  of  the  Atlantic,  that  the  open,  mild, 
and,  it  must  be  added,  rainy  winters  of  these  islands  are 
duo.  The  same  region  of  low  pressure  gives  Russia  and 
Western  SilK'ria  their  severe  winters ;  and  it  is  the  same 
consideration  that  fully  explains  the  enormous  deflexion  of 
the  isothermal  linos  from  Norway  eastwards  and  south- 


PaiWAILING    VTOJDS.] 


METEOROLOGY 


145 


eastwards  over  the  Old  Continent.  Finally,  the  same  low 
pressure  draws  over  British  America  and  the  United  States, 
by  the  N.W.  winds  which  it  induces,  the  intensely  dry 
cold  air-current  of  the  Arctic  regions.  At  Portland,  Maine, 
which  is  swept  by  these  cold  north-westerly  winds,  the 
normal  temperature  in  January  is  23°'6,  whereas  at 
Oorunna,  on  the  coast  of  Spain,  in  nearly  the  same  latitude, 
where  south-westerly  winds  from  the  Atlantic  prevail,  the 
mean  temperature  of  the  month  is  49°-l,  or  25°'5  higher. 

The  region  of  low  atmospheric  pressure  in  the  north  of 
the  Pacific  is  accompanied  by  prevailing  winds  over  the 
region  embraced  by  it  and  by  climatic  eflects  in  all  respects 
similar  to  the  above.  In  Vancouver  Island  the  prevailing 
winds  in  January  are  S.W.,  at  Sitka  E.S.E.,  on  Great 
Bear  Lake  E.N.E.,  in  Alaska  N.E.,  in  Kamchatka  N.N.E., 
and  in  Japan  N.W.  In  accordance  vnth  these  winds 
the  winter  climate  of  Vancouver  and  adjoining  regions 
is  mild  and  humid,  and  that  of  the  north-east  of  Asia  dry 
and  intensely  cold. 

On  the  other  hand,  abnormally  high  pressure  rules  over 
the  continent  of  Asia  at  this  season,  and  as  regards  this 
region  of  high  pressure  the  arrows  represent  the  winds  as 
blowing  outwards  from  it  in  all  directions.  Over  the 
interior  of  Asia,  where  the  highest  normal  pressures  are, 
observations  show  a  marked  prevalence  of  calms  and  light 
winds,  but  around  this  central  region  the  prevailing  winds 
in  January  are — at  Calcutta  N.,  at  Hong-Kong  E.N.E., 
at  Peking  N.W.,  on  the  Amur  W.N.W.,  S.E.  at  Nijni- 
kolynisk  and  S.S.W.  at  Ustjansk  (in  t'le  north  of  Siberia), 
and  at  Bogoslovsk  S.W.  Hence  from  this  extensive 
region,  where  pressure  is  abnormally  high,  or  where  at 
this  season  there  is  a  large  surplus  of  air,  the  prevailing 
winds  flow  outwards  in  all  directions  towards  the  Ipwer 
pressure  which  surrounds  it.  Owing  to  the  excessive  dry- 
ness of  the  air  of  Central  Asia,  terrestrial  radiation  is  less 
obstructed  there  than  anywhere  else  on  the  globe,  and 
consequently  the  temperature  falls  very  low,  the  mean  of 
January  at  Werchojausk  being  -  55°'8,  which  is  the  lowest 
mean  monthly  temperatiwe  known  to  otcur  on  the  earth's 
surface.  And,  since  the  winds  blow  outwards  from  the 
dry  cold  climates  of  the  interior,  temperatures  are  low, 
«ven  on  the  coasts.  Of  this  China  affords  good' illustrations. 
Thus  the  mean  January  temperature  of  Peking  is  22°'7  and 
of  Zi-ka-Wei,  near  Shanghai,  35°'4,  whereas  at  Corfu  and 
Alexandria  the  normal  temperatures  for  January  are 
respectively  50°-9  and  SS'-O,  or  28°-2  and  22°-6  higher 
than  i"n  corresponding  latitudes  on  the  coast  of  China. 

The  vdnds  of  the  United  States  in  winter,  taken  in 
connexion  with  the  peculiar  distribution  of  pressure  already 
described,  are  very  interesting.  There  are  two  regions  of 
high  pressure,  one  in  the  south-eastern  States  and  the  other 
and  lai-ger  one  in  the  region  around  Utah ;  and  between 
these  there  is  interposed  a  trough  of  lower  pressure  extend- 
ing from  Chicago  to  the  south-west  of  Texas.  On  the 
western  side  of  this  depression  the  winds  are  north- 
westerly, but  to  the  east  of  it  they  become  W.,  W.S.W., 
and  in  some  places  S.W.,  and  again  on  nearing  the  Atlantic 
seaboard  they  become  north-westerly.  In  connexion  with 
the  region  of  higher  pressure  ir.  the  west,  the  prevailing 
winds,  are  seen  to  flow  outward  from  it.  The  normal 
pressure  diminishes  everywhere  to  southward  of  a  lino 
drawn  from  the  Canaries  to  Bermuda,  thence  westward  in 
nearly  the  same  latitude  to  Texas,  and  then  to  west-north- 
west to  San  Francisco.  The  tract  of  lowest  pressiu-e 
stretches  from  the  basin  of  the  Amazon  in  the  direction  of 
the  isthmus  of  Panama  in  about  latitude  8°  N.,  and  thence 
is  continued  westward  for  a  considerable  distance  into  the 
Pacific  in  nearly  the  same  latitude.  It  follows  from  this 
distribution  of  the  pressure  that  the  north  trades  in  a  more 
,or  less  modified  form  prevail  over  South  America  to  the 

16— S 


north  of  the  Amazon,  and  in  the  Pacific  to  the  north  cf 
lat.  8°  N.,  probably  as  far  to  westward  as  long.  150°  W. 

The  low-pressiu-e  system.^  which  prevail  during  the 
summer  months  in  South  America  and  South  Africa  have 
each  its  corresponding  system  of  -.rinds  all  roimd.  It  is, 
however,  in  Australia,  as  being  the  most  compact  and 
isolated  continent,  that  the  influence  of  the  simimcr  sun  in 
lowering  the  pressure  is  best  illustrated.  Li  that  continent 
the  lowest  pressure  occius  in  the  region  situated  about 
midway  between  the  north  coast  and  the  tropic  of 
Capricorn,  over  which  the  normal  pressure  does  not  e^iceed 
29 '80  inches.  Further,  everywliere  in  Australia  pressure 
diminishes  from  the  coast  ou  advancing  upon  the  inland 
districts.  It  follows  from  this  disposition  of  the  pressure 
that  all  round  the  island  the  prevailing  winds  in  summer 
blow  from  the  sea  towards  the  interior  ;  and  accordingly  it 
is  in  these  months  that  the  greater  part  of  the  rain  falls. 
From  the  low  pressure  of  the  interior  southwards  to  Bass's 
Straits  pressure  rises  continuously,  the  increase  in  the 
normal  over  this  space  being  o.bout  0'200  inch.  To  north- 
ward it  also  rises  continuously  to  beyond  the  north  of 
China,  the  increase  on  this  side  being  about  -J  of  an  inch. 
In  this  case  the  greater  part  of  the  increase  occurs  over 
the  continent,  the  rate  of  increase  from  the  north  of 
Australia  to  the  Philippine  Islands  being  only  about  the 
rate  of  increase  which  obtains  southward  towards  Bass's 
Straits.  It  will  be  shown  when  the  subject  of  the  rainfall 
is  examined  that  it  is  the  relative  excess  of  these  higli 
pressures,  the  one  in  the  south  of  Australia  and  the  other 
in  the  south-east  of  Asia^  that  determines  the  position 
of  the  area  of  low  pressure  in  Australia  in  particular  years, 
and  with  that  position  the  degree  and  extent  to  which  the 
whole  of  the  northern  portion  of  Australia  is  watered  by 
the  rainfall.  Thus,  when  pressure  is  more  than  usually 
high  'in  the  south-east  of  Asia,  and  either  low  or  not  ex- 
cessive in  the  south  of  Australia,  then  the  low-pressure 
region  is  pushed  farther  southward  into  the  interior,  and 
with  it  the  rainfall  spreads  inland  over  a  wider  area  and  to 
a  greater  depth. 

Prevailing  Winds  in  July. — In  the  winter  of  the 
southern  hemisphere,  the  geographical  distribution  of 
pressure  is  exactly  the  reverse  in  Australia  of  what  obtains 
during  the  summer  months.  Everyn'here  all  round  it 
increases  on  advancing  from  the  coast  into  inland  districts. 
The  lowest  pressure,  about  SO'OO  inches,  occurs  on  the 
north  coast,  and  the  highest  over  the  basin  of  the  Murray 
river  and  its  affluents,  where  it  rises  generally  to  30-18 
inches.  On  the  south  coast  it  is  generally  about  30'12 
inches,  faUing,  however,  at  Gabo  Island,  in  the  extreme 
south-east,  to  30'050  inches,  and  to  29'836  in  the  south  of 
New  Zealand.  From  the  Murray  river  the  diminution  of 
pressure  is  continuous  to  the  north,  even  to  the  low  pressure 
of  Central  Asia.  From  this  arrangement  of  the  pressure, 
the  prevailing  winds  blow  from  the  interior  towards  the 
surrounding  ocean  all  round  Australia,  with  the  single 
exception  of  the  extreme  south-west  of  the  continent,  where 
the  prevailing  winds  are  south-westerly,  being  here  essenti- 
ally an  outflow  of  the  high  pressiure  which  overspreads  the 
Indian  Ocean  to  the  westward.  As  these  S.W.  winds  are 
from  the  ocean,  the  rainfall  at  Perth  in  July  is  fully  6 
inches,  and  it  is  high  over  south-western  districts  of  West 
Australia.  The  prevailing  winds  round  Australia  are  S.K 
on  the  north  coast,' S.W.  at  Brisbane,  W.N.W.  at  Sydney, 
N.  at  Melbourne,  N.E.  at  Adelaide.  These  all  represent 
an  outflow  from  the  high-pressure  regions  of  the  interior 
modified  by  the  influence  of  the  earth's  rotation,  and,  in 
correspondence  with  the  reversal  of  the  distribution  of  the 
pressure,  are  directions  the  reverse  of  the  prevailing  winds 
of  January. 

In  July  the  central  and  southern  parts  of  Asia  ar'.-. 


146' 


M.  E.  T  E  0  B  0  L  O  G  y 


[rKSVAiLiso  'wnrDte 


lighly  heated  b^"  the  summer  sun,  and,  besides,  the  rainfall 
over  southern  parts  is  excessive.  Consequently  atmospheric 
pressure  is  very  low,  being  fully  0"40  inch  lower  in  the 
Punjab  tlian  it  is  in  the  soiitli  of  Ceylon.  From  the 
interior  pressure  rises  continuously  on  advancing  to  the 
eastward,  southward,  westward,  and  northward,  and  from 
all  these  directions  the  prevailing  winds  of  summer  flow 
inwards  upon  the  interior,  and  these  bring  rain  or  parching 
drought  according  to  the  vapom-  they  bring  from  the 
ocean  they  have  traversed,  and  according  as  they  advance 
into  warmer  or  colder  regions.  The  prevailing  summer 
winds  of  Asia,  being  an  inflow  inwards  upon  the  interior, 
have,  generally  speaking,  exactly  the  reverse  direction  of 
t^t  prevailing  in  winter. 

The  winds  of  Europe  are  mainly  determined  by  the 
extraordinarily  high  pres.siu-e  of  the  Atlantic  in  its  relations 
to  the  low-pressure  sy.stems  of  Central  Asia  and  Central 
Africa  at  this  time.  The  mnds  in  the  Spanish  Peninsula 
are  north-west ;  in  the  north  of  Africa  they  are  northerly, 
and  again  north-westerly  in  Syria.  The  winds  of  the 
British  Islands  and  western  Europe  have,  less  southing  and 
more  northing  than  the  prevailing  winds  of  winter,  and  to 
the  east  of  long.  40°  E.  they  become  decidedly  north-west. 
It  is  to  the  Atlantic  origin  of  these  winds  that  the  summer 
climates  of  these  large  and  important  regions  owe  the  com- 
paratively large  rainfall  of  this  season,  it  being  at  this  time 
that  the  rainfall  reaches  the  annual  maximum.  The  bear- 
ing of  the  lo^v-pr686ure  areas  and  mountain  systems  of  the 
north  of  Italy  and  Scandinavia  on  the  climates  of  these 
countries  mil  be  afterwards  referred  to. 

The  centre  of  lowest  pressure  in  North  America  is  over 
iKa  district  about  Utah,  from  which  it  rises  aU  round,  least 
to  northward  and  most  in  south-easterly  and  north-westerly 
directions.  In  California  N.W.  winds  necessarily  blow  in- 
-.rardsupon  this  central  low-pressure  area;  and,  as- these  winds 
pass  successively  over  regions  the  temperature  of  which  con- 
stantly increases,  the  summer  dim;;  fo  is  rainless.  On  the 
other  hand,  southerly  aad  south-easterly  -winds  from  the  Gulf 
of  Mexico  blow  up  the  western  side  of  the  basin  of  the  Missis- 
sippi inwards  upon  the  low-pressure  area  of  the  centre,  de- 
positing in  their  course,  in  a  rainfall  more  or  leos  abundant, 
the  moisture  they  have  brought  from  the  Gulf.  To  the  north 
of  lat  50°,  and  to- westward  of  Hudson's  Bay,  the  prevail- 
ing wind.3  become  easterly  and  north-easterly,  distributing 
over  Manitoba,  Saskatchewan^  and  neighbouring  regions, 
as  they  continue  their  westerly  course  tov.-ards  the  low- 
pressure  area,  the  rainfall  they  have  transported  thither 
from  the  wide  expanse  of  Hudson's  Bay.  An  attentiro 
'examination  of  the  arrows  of  fig.  17  shovvs  that  the  prevail- 
ing winds  over  all  the  States  to  the  east  of  the  Mississippi 
river  are  rather  to  be  regarded  as  an  outflow  from  the 
region  of  very  high  pressure  over  the  Atlantic  to  south- 
eastward. Thus  in  Florida  the  winds  are  S.E.,  in  the 
southern  States  S.,  and  in  the  lake  region,  in  the  New  Eng- 
land States,  and  on  the  Atlantic  .seaboard  S.W.  Since  the 
origin  of  these  winds  is  thus  essentially  oceanic,  and  since 
in  their  course  northwards  no  mountain  range  crosses  their 
path,  the  whole  of  this  extensive  region  enjoys  a  large  but 
by  no  means  excessive  rainfall,  which,  taken  in  connexion 
with  the  temperature,  renders  the  smnmcr  climate  of  these 
States  one  of  the  best  to  be  met  with  anywhere  on 
the  globe  for  the  successful  prosecution  of  agricultural 
industries. 

The  remarkable  protrusion  of  high  pressures  from  the 
southern  hemisphere,  where  they  are  massed  at  this  time 
of  the  year,  northwards  into  the  Atlantic  is,  as  has  already 
been  referred  to,  one  of  the  outstanding  features  of  the 
meteorology  of  the  summer  months  of  the  northern  hemi- 
sphere. In  the  central  area  of  this  large  rcgipu  the  climate 
ifi  remarkable  for  its  prevailing  calms,  light  winds,  occasional 


squalls,  and  clear  skies.  From  this  comparatively  calm 
space  the  wind  blows  outwards  in  all  directions  towarda  and 
in  upon  the  surrounding  regions  of  low  pressure.  These 
winds,  owing  to  the  high  temperature,  clear  skies,  and  stro:..:. 
sunshine  of  the  region  from  which  they  issue,  carry  with 
them  a  great  amount  of  vapour  near  the  surface,  by  which 
to  a  large  extent  the  north  of  South  America,  the  cast  of 
North  America,  the  greater  part  of  Europe,  and  a  large  por- 
tion of  Africa  are  watered.  The  prevailing  winds  over  this 
region  are  further  interesting,  not  merely  from  the  striking 
illustration  they  give  of  the  intimate  relation  of  thfi  winii.s 
to  the  distribution  of  the  pressure,  but  as  being  of  no  small 
importance  in  determining  the  best  routes  to  be  taken  over 
this  great  highway  of  commerce,  and  the  more  so  inasmuch 
as  the  currents  of  the  ocean  are  coincident  with  these  pre- 
vailing winds. 

In  the  Antarctic  regions,  or  rather  to  the  south  of  lat.> 
45°  S.,  the  normal  atmospheric  pressure  is  low  at  all 
seasons,  there  being  a  gradual  diininutiou  of  pressure  to 
29 '20  inches  about  lat.  60°  S.  Pressure  is  probably  even 
still  lower  nearer  to  the  south  pole,  as  seems  to  be  indi- 
cated by  the  observations  made  by  Sir  James  C  Eo.ss,  and 
in  the  "  Challenger "  and  other  expeditions.  Over  this 
zone  the  prevailing  winds  are  W.N.W.  and  N.W.  This  is 
the  region  of  the  "  brave  west  winds,"  the  "  roaring  forties  " 
of  sailors,  which  play  such  an  important  part  in  navigation, 
and  which  determine  that  the  outward  voyage  to  Australia 
be  round  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope  and  thence  eastward,  and 
the  homeward  voyage  eastward  round  Cape  Horn,  the' 
globe  being  thus  circumnavigated  by  the  double  voyage.: 
That  the  general  drift  of  these  ^^'inds  is  inwards  upon  the 
south  pole  is  strongly  attested  by  the  existence  of  the 
enormously  thick  wall  of  ice  which  engirdles  these  regions, 
from  which  are  constantly  breaking  away  the  innumerable 
icebergs  that  cover  the  Southern  Ocean,  none  of  which  ia 
ever  seen  of  a  calculated  thickness  less  than  140P  feet.; 
The  snow  and  rainfall  which  must  take  place  in  the  south' 
polar  regions  for  the  formation  of  icebergs  of  such  a 
thickness  must  be  peculiarly  heavy,  but  not  heavier  than 
might  be  expected  from  the  strength  and  degree  of  satura- 
tion of  the  "  roaring  forties  "  which  unceasingly  precipitate 
their  moisture  over  these  regions. 

To  sum  up : — so  far  as  the  prevailing  winds  are  con- 
cerned, it  has  been  sho-nm  that  wh'.re  pressure  is  high,  that 
is  to  say,  where  there  exists  a  surplus  of  air,  out  of  such 
a  region  winds  blow  in  all  directions ;  and,  on  the  other 
hand,  where  pressure  is  low,  or  where  there  is  a  deficiency 
cf  air,  towards  such  a  region  winds  blow  from  all  directions 
in  an  in-moving  spiral  course.  This  outflow  of  air-currents 
from  a  region  of  high  pressure  upon  a  region  of  lov/  pres- 
sure is  reducible  to  a  single  principle,  viz.,  the  principle  of 
gravitation.  Given  as  observed  facts  the  differences  of 
pressure,  it  is  easy  to  state  with  a  close  approximation  to 
accuracy  what  are  the  prevailing  winds,  before  calculating 
the  averages  from  the  wind  observations.  Indeed  so  pre- 
dominating is  the  influence  of  gravitation  where  differences 
of  pressure,  however  produced,  exist  that  it  may  practically 
be  regarded  as  the  sole  force  immediately  concerned  in. 
causing  the  movements  of  the  atmosphere.  If  there  be. 
any  other  force  or  forces  that  set  the  winds  in  motioiv 
independently  of  the  force  called  into  play  by  differences  of 
mass  or*)ressure,  their  influence  must  be  altogethfir  insig-, 
nificant  as  compared  with  gravitatioii. 

It  has  been  abundantly  proved  that  the  wind  do,es'notj 
blow  directly  from  the  region  of  high  towards  that  of  low 
pressure,  but  that,  in  the  northern  hemisphere,  the  region  of 
lowest  pressuio  is  to  the  left  of  the  direction  to.wards  which 
tlio  wind  blows,  and  in  the  southern  Jiemispherc  to  the 
right  of  it. .  This  direction  Tof  the  prevailing  tfind  with 
reference  to  the  pressure  is  in  strict  accordance  .with  I!uya 


PREVAILINQ   ■WlNDa.J 


METEOROLOGY 


U7 


Pallot's  Law  of  the  Winds,  which  may  be  thus  expressed  : — 
the  wind  neither  blows  round  the  centre  of  lowest  pressure 
in  circles,  or  as  tangents  to  the  concentric  isobaric  curves 
of  storms  or  cyclones,  nor  does  it  blow  directly  towards  the 
centre ;  but  it  takes  a  direction  intermediate,  approaching, 
however,  more  nearly  to  the  direction  and  course  of  the 
circular  curves  than  of  the  radii  to  the  centre.  The  angle 
formed  by  a  line  drawn  to  the  centre  of  lowest  pressure 
from  the  observer's  position  and  a  line  drawn  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  wind  is  not  a  right  angle,  but  an  angle  of  from 
«0°  to  80°. 

From  its  importance  in  practical  meteorology  Buys 
Ballot's  law  may  be  stated  in  these  two  convenient  forms. 
(1)  Stand  with  your  back  to  the  wind,  and  the  centre  of 
the  depression  or  the  place  where  the  barometer  is  lowest 
will  be  to  your  left  in  the  northern  hemisphere,  and  to 
your  right  in  the  southern  hemisphere.  This  is  the  rule 
for  sailors  by  which  they  are  guided  to  steer  with  refer- 
iice  to  storms.  (2)  Stand  with  the  high  barometer  to 
\  our  right  and  the  low  barometer  to  your  left,  and  the 
rt-ind  will  blow  on  your  back,  these  positions  in  the  southern 
hemisphere  being  reversed.  It  is  in  this  form  that  the 
prevailing  winds  of  any  part  of  the  globe  may  be  worked 
out  from  the  isobaric  charts  (figs.  14  and  17). 

From  the  all-important  consequences  which  flow  from  the 
geographical  distribution  of  the  pressure  it  is  evident  that 
the  regions  of  low  and  of  high  normal  pressure  must  be 
regarded  as  the  true  poles  of  the  prevailing  winds  on  the 
earth's  surface,  towards  which  and  from  which  the  great 
movements  of  the  atmosphere  proceed.  From  the  unequal 
distribution  of  land  and  water,  and  their  different  relations 
to  solar  and  terrestrial  radiation,  it  follows  that  the  poles 
of  pressure  and  of  atmospheric  movements  are,  just  as 
happens  with  respect  to  the  poles  of  temperature,  very  far 
from  being  coincident  with  the  north  pole.  Thus  during 
the  winter  months  the  regions  to  which  the  origin  of  the 
great  prevailing  winds  of  the  northern  hemisphere  are  to 
be  referred  are  Central  Asia,  the  region  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains,  and  the  horse  latitudes  of  the  Atlantic,  and 
the  regions  towards  and  in  upon  which  they  flow  are  the 
low-pressure  systems  in  the  north  of  the  Atlantic  and 
Pacific  Oceans,  and  the  tract  of  low  pressure  within  the 
ttopics  towards  which  the  trade-winds  blow.  In  the 
summer  months  the  reversed  conditions  of  pressure-distri- 
bution then  observed  are-  attended  with  corresponding 
changes  in  the  prevailing  winds ;  and,  generally  speaking, 
if  the  south  polar  region  be  excepted,  the  poles  of  highest 
and  lowest  pressure  and  atmospheric  movements  are  at  no 
time  coincident  with  the  north  pole.  It  is  this  considera- 
tion which  affords  the  true  explanation  why  prevailing 
winds  at  so  large  a  proportion  of  stations  in  the  northern 
hemisphere  do  hot  blow  in  the  directions  in  which  true 
.equatorial  and  polar  winds  should  blow. 

The  causes  which  bring  about  an  unequal  distribution  of 
the  mass  of  the  earth's  atmosphere  are  mainly  these  two — 
the  temperature  and  the  moisture  of  the  atmosphere  con- 
sidered with  respect  to  the  geographical  distribution  of 
land  and  water.  Owing  to  the  very  different  relations  of 
land  and  water  to  temperature,  as  already  stated,  the 
summer  temperature  of  continents  greatly  exceeds  that  of 
ithe  ocean  in  the  same  latitudes.  Hence  the  abnormally 
tigh  temperature  which  prevails  in  the  interior  of  Asia, 
'Africa,  America,  and  Australia  during  their  respective 
summers,  in  consequence  of  which  the  air,  becoming  speci- 
fically lighter,  ascends  in  enormous  columns  thousands  of 
miles  in  diameter.  On  arriving  at  the  higher  regions  of 
the  atmosphere  it  flows  over  neighbouring  regions  where 
the  surface  temperature  is  lower,  and  thus  the  atmospheric 
(jiessure  of  the  highly  heated  regions  is  diminished. 

Sadsfie  'wicds^set  m  aU  isaiid  .to.t^e^:^  p^c.e  of  t^ 


air  removed  from  the  continents  by  tKeffeascefiaiig 
currents,  and  since  these  necessarily  are  chiefly  winds  from| 
the  ocean  they  are  highly  charged  with  aqueous  vapour,' 
by  the  presence  of  which,  and  by  the  condensation  of  the' 
■TOpour  into  cloud  and  rain,  the  pressure  over  continents  at 
Jhis  season  is  still  further  and  very  largely  diminished.! 
Air  charged  with  vapour  is  specifically  lighter  than  when 
without  the  vapour;  in  other  words,  the  more  vapour 
any  given  quantity  of  atmospheric  air  has  in  it  the  less 
is  its  specific  gravity ;  and,  further,  the  condensation 
of  vapour  in  ascending  air  is  the  chief  cause  of  the  cooling 
effect  being  so  much  less  than  that  which  would  be 
experienced  by  dry  air.  From  these  two  principles^' 
which  were  established  by  Daltun,  Joule,  and  Sir  William 
Thomson,  it  follows  that  the  pressure  of  vapour  in  the  air, 
and  its  condensation,  exercise  a  powerful  influence  in 
diminishing  the  pressure.  The  great  disturbing  influences 
at  work  in  the  atmosphere  are  the  forces  called  into  play, 
by  its  aqueous  vapour ;  and  it  is  to  these,  co-operating  with 
the  forces  called  into  play  by  the  differences  of  temperature 
directly,  that  the  low  normal  pressure  of  the  continents 
during  the  summer  is  to  be  ascribed.  The  degree  to  which 
the  lowering  of  the  pressure  takes  place  is,  as  was  to  have 
been  expected,  greatest  in  Asia,  the  largest  continent,  and 
least  in  Australia,  the  smallest  continent,  while  in  America 
it  is  intermediate. 

The  influence  of  the  aqueous  vapour  in  diminishing  the 
pressure  is  well  seen  in  the  belt  of  calms  in  the  tropica 
between  the  north  and  the  south  trade-vrinds.  Since  these 
winds  import  into  the  belt  of  calms  the  vapour  they  have 
taken  up  from  the  sea  on  their  way  thither,  the  climate  ia 
characterized  by  a  highly  satm-ated  atmosphere  and  heavy 
rains.  Again  the  air  in  regions  near  the  Atlantic  contains 
much  more  vapour  and  is  of  a  higher  temperature  during 
winter  than  is  observed  at  places  in  the  interior  of  con- 
tinents in  the  same  latitudes.  It  follows  thus  that  the  air 
over  the  north  of  the  Atlantic  and  the  regions  adjoining  is 
specifically  lighter  than  in  the  regions  which  surround 
them.  We  have  here  therefore  the  physical  conditions  of 
an  ascending  current ;  and  it  is  plain  that  the  strength  of 
this  current  will  not  merely  be  kept  up  but  increased  by 
the  condensations  of  the  vapour  into  cloud  and  rain  which 
take  place  within  it,  by  which  a  higher  temperature  and  a 
greater  specific  lightness  are  maintained  at  the  surface  of 
the  earth  and  at  various  heights  in  the  atmosphere  than 
exist  over  surrounding  regions  at  the  same  heights. 
Accordingly  it  is  seen  from  the  winter  isobars  that  an 
enormous  diminution  of  pressure  occurs  over  these  regions, 
and  also  over  the  north  of  the  Pacific  and  the  Antarctic, 
as  compared 'with  the  continents. 

Since,  on  the  other  hand,  dry.  and  cold  air  is  specifically, 
heavy,  the  winter  isobars  show  that  where  temperature  ia 
low  and  the  air  very  dry  pressure  is  high.  Of  this  Asia 
and  North  America  are  striking  examples  during  December, 
January,  and  February,  and  Australia,  South  Africa,  and 
South  Ajnerica  duri^ig  June,  July,  and  August. 

Since  vast  volumes  of  air  are  thus  poured  into  the  region 
where  pressure  is  low  without  increasing  that  pressm-e,  and 
vast  volumes  flow  out  of  the  region  where  pressure  is  high 
without  diminishing  that  pressure,  it  necessarUy  foUows 
that  the  volumes  of  air  poured  into  the  region  of  low 
normal  pressure  do  not  accumulate  over  that  region,  but 
must  somehow  e-scape  away  into  other  regions,  and  that 
the  voltmies  of  air  which  flow  out  from  the  region  of  high 
normal  pressure  must  have  their  place  supplied  by  fresh 
accessions  of  air  poured  in  from  above.  That  the  same 
law  of  relation  observed  between  sea-level  pressures  and 
surface  winds  obtains  between  pressures  at  different  heights 
and  winds  at  the  same  heights  is  simply  a  necessary 
inference.  ^We„»re  therefore  justiledJ&jJjiectingthftt. 


148 


METEOKOLOQY 


[pEEVAlLrNO  'wasft 


ascending  currents  \'nil  continue  their  ascent  till  a  height 
is  attained  at  which  the  pressure  of  the  air  composing  the 
currents  equals  or  just  falls  short  of  the  pressure  over  the 
Eurrouuding  regions  at  that  high  leveL  On  reaching  this 
height  the  air,  no  longer  buoyed  up  by  a  greater  specific 
levity  than  that  of  the  surrounding  air,  will  cease  to 
ascend,  and  expanding  horizontally  will  thenceforth  flow 
over  as  an  upper  current  towards  those  regions  which  offer 
the  least  resistance  to  its  course ;  that  is  to  say,  it  will 
flow  over  upon  those  regions  where,  at  that  height,  pressure 
happens  at  the  time  to  be  least.  Now  from  the  known 
densities  of  air  of  different  temperatures  and  humidities  it 
is  evident  that  the  overflow  of  the  upper  current  will  take 
place  towards  and  over  that  region  or  regions  the  air  of 
which  in  the  lower  strata  of  the  atmosphere  happens  to  be 
colder  and  drier  than  that  of  the  otTier  surrounding 
regions, — because,  being  denser,  a  greater  mass  of  air  is 
condensed  or  gathered  together  in  the  lower  strata  of  the 
atmosphere,  thus  leaving  a  loss  mass  of  air,  or  a  diminished 
pressure,  in  the  higher  region  of  the  upper  current. 

If  this  be  so,  then  the  extraordinarily  high  pressure  of 
Central  Asia  during  winter  is  to  be  ascribed  to  these  two 
causes  :— (1)  the  low  temperature  and  excessive  dryness  of 
.the  air  of  this  extensive  region ;  and  (2)  its  relative 
Broximity  to  the  low  pressure  of  the  Atlantic  to  the  north- 
west, the  low  pressure  of  the  Pacific  to  the  north-east,  and 
the  low  pressure  of  the  belt  of  calms  to  the  south. 
Similarly,  since  in  summer  the  temperature  of  air  resting 
over  the  Atlantic  between  Africa  and  the  United  States  is 
much  lower  than  that  of  the  land,  the  ascending  currents 
which  arise  from  the  heated  lands  of  Africa,  Europe,  and 
North  and  South  America,  as  well  as  from  the  region  of 
calms  immediately  to  the  south,  all  of  which  are  remark- 
able for  a  low  normal  pressure,  will  on  reaching  the  upper 
regions  of  the  atmosphere  flow  towards  this  part  of  the 
Atlantic,  because  there,  the  temperatm'e  being  lower  and 
the  density  of  the  air  composing  the  lower  strata  being 
greater,  pressure  in  the  upper  regions  is  less.  And,  since 
the  surface  winds  are  constantly  flowing  outwards  from 
this  region  of  abnormally  high  pressure,  thus  draining 
away  the  air  poured  down  ujxm  it  by  the  upper  currents 
which  converge  upon  it,  extreme  saturation  does  not  take 
place,  and  the  air  consequently  is  relatively  dry  and  cool. 
That  this  view  generally  represents  the  movements  of  the 
upper  ciirients  has  been  strongly  confirmed  wjthiu  the  last 
few  years  by  Professor  Hildebrjmdsson  and  Clement  Ley 
in  their  researches  into  the  upper  current  of  the  atmosphere 
based  on  observations  of  the  cirrus  cloud. 

From  these  considerations  it  may  be  concluded  that  the 
winds  which  prevail  near  the  earth's  surface  are  known 
from  the  isobaric  lines,  the  direction  of  the  wind  being 
from  regions  where  pressure  is  high  towards  regions  where 
it  is  low,  in  accordance  with  Buys  Ballot's  law ;  and  that 
the  upper  currents  may  be  inferred  from  the  isobaric  lines 
taken  reversely,  together  with  the  isothermal  lines  taken 
directly.  In  other  words,  the  regions  of  lowest  pressure, 
with  their  ascending  ciirrents  and  relatively  higher  pressure 
at  great  heights  as  compared  with  surrounding  regions, 
point  out  the  sources  or  fountains  from  which  the  upper 
currents  flow ;  and  the  isothermals,  by  showing  where  on 
account  of  the  relatively  low  temperatures  the  greater 
mass  of  the  air  is  condensed  in  the  lower  strata  of  the 
atmosphere  and  sea-level  pres.sure  consequently  is  high, 
thus  diminishing  the  pressure  of  the  upper  regions,  point 
out  the  regions  towards  and  upon  which  these  upper 
currents  of  the  atmosphere  flow.  The  facts  of  the  diurnal 
oscillations  of  the  barometer  in  the  different  regions 
already  discussed  afford  the  strongest  corroboration  of  these 
news. 
The  term  "  monsoon  "  has  long  been  applied  to  tho  pro- 


vailing  winda  in  southern  Asia  wliich  blow  approximately 
from  S.W.  from  April  to  October,  and  from  N.E.  from 
November  to  April.  The  term  is  now,  huv.-ever,  generally 
applied  to  those  winds  connected  with  continents  which 
are  of  seasonal  occurrence,  or  which  occur  regularly  with 
the  periodical  return  of  the  season.  Since  they  are  caused 
immediately  by  the  different  temperatures  and  prcssurea 
which  form  marked  features  of  the  clJjuates  of  continents 
in  winter  and  summer  respectively,  they  are  most  fully 
developed  round  the  coast  of  Asia,  owing  to  the  great 
extent  of  that  continent.  The  monsoons  of  dijffereat  parta 
of  the  coasts  of  Asia  differ  w-idely  in  direction  from  each 
other.  Thus  in  winter  and  summer  respectively  they  are 
W.N.W.  and  E.N.E.  at  the  mouth  of  the  Amur,  H.  and 
S.S.E.  at  Shanghai,  N.E.  and  S.W.  at  Rangoon,  N.  and 
W.S.W.  at  Bombay,  N.W.  and  S.W.  at  Jerusalem,  and 
S.S.W.  and  N.N.E.  at  Archangel.  The  Indian  winter 
monsoon  generally  begins  to  break  up  in  Starch,  but  it  is 
not  til!  about  tho  middle  of  May,  when  the  normal  pres- 
sure has  been  decidedly  diminished  over  the  heated 
interior,  that  the  summer  monsoon  acquires  its  full  strength 
and  the  heavy  raonsoonal  rains  fairly  set  in.  In  October, 
when  the  temperature  has  fallen  considerably  and  with 
the  falling  temperature  the  pressure  of  the  interior  has  risen, 
the  summer  monsoon  begins  to  break  up,  and  this  season 
is  marked  by  variable  winds,  calm.s,  and  destructive 
hurricanes.  As  the  temperature  continues  to  fall  and 
pressure  to  rise,  the  winter  monsoon  again  resumes  its 
sway.  Monsoons,  equally  with  the  trade-winds,  play  a 
most  important  part  in  the  economy  of  the  globe.  The 
relatively  great  force  and  steadiness  in  the  direction  in 
which  t'ney  blow,  and  the  periodical  change  in  their  direc- 
tion, give  facility  of  intercourse  between  different  countries ; 
and,  besides,  by  the  rainfall  they  bring  they  spread  fertility 
over  exteiisive  regions  which  otherwise  would  be  barren 
wastes. 

The  winds  of  Australia  are  also  strictly  monsoonal,  but 
owing  to  the  small  extent  of  that  continent,  and  coiise- 
quently  the  smaller  differences  there  are  between  the 
normal  pressure  of  the  interior  and  that  of  the  surrounding 
coasts  in  summer  and  winter  respectively,  they  are  less 
strongly  marked  than  are  the  monsoons  of  southern  Asia ; 
and  particularly  they  neither  blow  with  the  same  force  nor 
so  steadily  from  the  same  point  of  the  compass.  For  the 
same  reason  the  Australian  climates  are  characterized  by 
the'  occurrence  of  more  frequent  droughts  than  are  the 
climates  of  southern  Asia,  and  the  same  remark  applies  to 
tno  climates  of  southern  Africa. 

Since  the  Malay  archipelago  lies  during  ti?3  summer  of 
the  northern  hemisphere  between  tho  high  pressure  o£ 
central  Australia  and  the  low  pressure  of  Asia^  and  during 
the  winter  between  the  high  pressure  of  Asia  and  the  low 
pressure  of  central  Australia,  it  follows  that  the  winds  of 
the.se  Islands  are  emihently  monsoonal  in  their  character, 
being  in  summer  southerly  and  in  winter  northerly.  The 
result  of  this  peculiar  wind  system  of  the  archipelago  is  to 
give  to  these  islands  a  singular  diversity  of  climates,  which 
will  be  more  particularly  referred  to  under  rainfall. 

At  Zanzibar  the  prevailing  wind  in  July  is  S.E.,  but  in 
Jauuary,  when  tho  low  pressure  of  the  interior  is  situated 
much  farther  to  southward,  it  is  N.E. :  and  tho  same 
influence  is  felt,  though  in  a  greatly  modifled  degree,  as 
far  as  Mauritius,  where  the  S.E.  trade  changes  nearly  into 
R  during  the  summer.  On  the  other  side  of  Africa  the 
S.E.  trade  of  the  South  Atlantic  is  changed  into  a  S.W. 
monsoon  on  the  coast  of  the  Qulf  of  Guinea. 

In  the  southern,  central,  western,  and  northern  regions 
of  North  America  the  prevailing  winds  have  a  well-marked 
monsoonal  character.  The  prevailing  winds  of  winter  and 
summer  respectively  are  N.E.  and  S.S.E.  at  New  Orleans, 


TPBEVAILINO   WINDS.] 


METEOROLOGY 


149 


N.W.  and  S.W.  in  Utah,  N.  and  S.  at  Fort  Yuma 
(California),  E.S.E.  and  N.W.  at  Portland  (Oregon),  and 
S.  an4  E.N.E.  at  Fort  York,  Hudson  Bay.  These  winds 
are  readily  accounted  for  by  the  distribution  of  pressure 
«ver  the  continent  in  winter  and  summer.  On  the  Atlantic 
seaboard  of  the  United  States  the  prevailing  winds  of 
winter  vary  from  N.W.  in  the  New  England  States  to  W. 
in  South  Carolina ;  whereas  in  summer  they  vary  generally 
from  S.S.W.  in  South  Carolina  to  S.W.  in  the  New  Eng- 
land States.  Hence  over  the  eastern  States  the  summer 
winds  are  not  directed  towards  the  low-pressure  region  of 
the  interior  of  the  continent,  but  are  determined  by  the 
relations  of  their  pressure  to  the  high  pressure  of  the 
Atlantic  to  the  eastward,  and  to  the  lower  pressure  over- 
spreading the  Atlantic  to  the  N.E.  This  influence  of  the 
/.tlantic  may  be  considered  as  felt  westward  through  the 
States  as  far  as  the  Missiesippi. 

Though  not  so  decidedly  marked,  tne  winds  of  Jturope, 
except  the  extreme  south,  are  ako  monsoonal.  In  winter 
they  flow  from  the  land  towards  the  region  of  low  pressure 
in  the  north  of  the  Atlantic ;  but  in  summer  the  arrows, 
representing  the  prevailing  mnds,  show  that  all  but  the  ex- 
treme south  of  Europe  is  swept  by  westerly  winds,  which  flow 
in  a  vast  continuous  stream  from  the  Atlantic  towards  the 
central  regions  of  the  Old  Continent,  and  which  deposit  in 
their  course  the  rains  they  have  brought  from  the  ocean. 

Similarly,  monsoons  prevail  on  the  coasts  of  Brazil, 
Peru,  North  Africa,  and  many  other  regions  which  happen 
1o  lie  between  other  regions  whose  temperatures,  and 
therefore  pressures,  differ  markedly  from  each  other  at 
di£ferent  times  of  the  year. 

These  are  the  chief  prevailing  winds  of  the  globe  when 
the  differences  of  the  normal  atmospheric  pressure  are  such 
as  to  cause  a  decided  and  steady  movement  of  the  atmo- 
sphere over  a  large  portion  of  the  earth's  surface,  resulting 
in  well-marked  prevailing  winds.  But  there  are  other 
winds  which  are  greatly  influenced  by  local  causes,  such  as 
the  nature  of  the  ground,  whether  covered  with  vegetation 
or  bare ;  the  physical  configuration  of  the  surface,  whether 
level  or  mountainous  ;  and  the  vicinity  of  extensive  sheets 
of  fresh  or  salt  water.  An  important  characteristic  of 
winds  in  their  practical  relations  to  climate  is  their 
quality, — they  being  warm  or  cold,  dry  or  moist,  according 
to  their  direction  and  the  nature  of  the  earth's  surface 
over  which  they  have  just  passed.  Thus  in  the  northern 
hemisphere  southerly  winds  are  warm  and  moist,  while 
northerly  winds  are  cold  and  dry.  In  Europe  south- 
westerly winds  are  moist  and  easterly  winds  dry,  while  in 
the  New  England  States  and  Canada  north-easterly  winds 
are  cold  and  raw  and  north-westerly  winds  cold  and  dry. 

In  particular  regions  certain  meteorological  conditions 
occur  at  stated  seasons  intensifying  these  effects,  resulting 
in  e.tcessive  drought,  heavy  raius,  intense  or  great  heat, 
thus  giving  rise  to  the  following  among  other  well-known 
winds.  The  east  winds  of  the  British  Islands  occur  chiefly 
in  spring,  but  also  in  a  less  degree  in  November,  being  in 
the  latter  case  often  accompanied  with  fog.  The  winds 
here  referred  to  are  dry  and  parching,  and  their  deleterious 
influence  on  the  health  is  seen,  not  merely  in  the  discomfort 
and  uneasiness  they  impart  to  the  less  robust  of  the  popu- 
lation, but  also  in  the  largely  increased  mortality  which 
they  cause  from  consumption  and  all  other  diseases  more 
or  less  connected  with  the  nervous  system.  In  the 
countries  bordering  on  the  north  of  the  Atlantic,  atmo- 
spheric pre.ssure  reaches  the  annual  maximum  in  May,  and 
it  is  above  the  average  during  the  other  two  spring  months. 
In  these  months  the  normal  pressure  approaches  nearer  to 
what  obtains  farther  south,  and  an  examination  of  daily 
weather  maps  shows  that  this  is  due  to  the  repeated 
«oeurrence  in  spring  of  very  high  pressures  in  the  north  of 


Europe  wnile  pressures  much  lower  prevail  to  southward. 
Now  these  east  winds  are  simply  the  outflow  from  these 
regions  of  high  pressure  to  northward.  Northerly  and  even 
westerly  winds  which  are  truly  outflows  from  what  may  be 
styled  Arctic  anticyclonic  areas  bring  -n-ith  them  qualities  as 
noxious  as  those  of  the  east  wind  itself,  and  prove  as  injuri- 
ous to  health  and  vegetation.  The  cold  dry  wind  of  April 
29,  1868,  which  blasted  and  shrivelled  up  vegetation  in  Scot- 
land, particularly  in  the  western  counties,  as  effectually  as 
if  a  scorching  fire  had  passed  across  them,  was  a  west  wind. 

In  tho  south  of  Europe,  during  the  winter  and  early  spring, 
peculiarly  diy,  cold,  and  violent  northerly  winds  are  of  occasional 
occurrence.  Of  these  winds  the  "mistral"  is  one  of  tho  most 
notorious,  which  is  a  steady,  violent,  and  cold  north-west  wind 
blowing  from  central  and  eastern  France  down  on  the  Gulf  of 
Lyons.  It  is  particularly  trying  while  it  lasts  to  invalids  who  are 
spending  the  winter  at  the  various  popular  sanatai-ia  which  are 
scattered  along  this  part  of  the  Mediterranean  coast.  The  great 
cold  that  took  place  in  the  north  of  Italy  and  south  of  France  in 
the  beginning  of  1S68  was  a  good  example  of  the  mistral.  Tho 
meteorological  conditions  under  which  it  occurred  were  unusually 
low  pressure  over  the  Mediterranean  to  southward  (29-450  inches), 
whilst  at  the  same  time  pressure  rose  steadily  and  rapidly  on  pro- 
ceeding northward  to  30  905  inches  in  the  north  of  Russia.  From 
this  geographical  distribution  of  the  pressure,  northerly  winds  st.  apt 
southwards  over  Europe,  carrying  with  them  the  low  temperatures 
of  tho  higher  latitudes,  and  became  still  colder  and  drier  on  crossing 
the  Alps  before  they  made  the  descent  on  the  shores  of  the  Mediter-' 
ranean.  The  cold  tempestuous  winds  which  descend  from  the  JuliaD' 
Alps  and  sweep  over  the  Adi-iatic,  and  the  dreaded  "gregalo"  of 
Malta,  which  is  a  dry  cold  north-east  wind,  are  in  their  character 
and  origin  quite  analogous  to  the  mistral. 

The  "  northers,"  or  "nort«s,"  are  peculiarly  dry  cold  strong  windi 
which  repeatedly  occur  from  September  to  March  in  tho  Statea 
bordering  on  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  and  are  perfectly  analogous  to  the 
mistral.  The  condirions  under  which  tuey  occur  are  a  pressure 
lower  than  usual  to  the  south  or  south-east  over  the  Gulf  of  Mexico, 
together  with  a  pressure  even  higher  than  the  high  normal  which 
is  so  marked  a  feature  of  the  meteorology  of  the  Rocky  Mountains 
during  the  colder  months.  When,  as  most  frequently  happens, 
they  occur  in  the  wake  of  a  storm,  their  disagreeable  qualities  of 
extreme  dryness,  cold,  and  violence  are  all  intensified.  From  a 
temperature  of  upwards  of  80°  experienced  as  the  storm  comes  up 
the  thermometer  rapidly  falls  to  18°  or  even  lower  ;  and,  as  the  low 
temperature  often  occurs  mth  a  wind  blomng  with  great  violenee7 
the  northers  prove  most  deleterious.  A  violent  wind  with  a  tcn»- 
oerature  of  18°  is  altogether  unknown  in  the  British  Islands. 

Tho  "  pampero  "  is  a  stron:;,  dry,  cold  wind  which  blows  across  the 
pampas  of  the  River  Plate  of  South  America,  occurring  at  all  seasons, 
but  most  frequently  duriu"  the  spring  and  summer  from  October  to 
January.  They  are  preceded  by  easterly  winds,  a  falling  pressure, 
a  rising  ternperature,  and  increased  moisture.  A  pampero  is  de- 
scribed by  Dr  D.  Christison,  and  its  appearance  figured,  in  the 
Journal  of  the  Scottish  Mclcorolo'jkal  Soculy,  vol.  v.  p.  342,  as  seen 
advancing  on  the  morning  of  November  28,  1867,  in  central 
Uruguay.  In  the  early  morning  the  wind  blew  rather  strongly 
from  north-east,  and  by  and  by  clouds  were  seen  moving  very 
slowly  from  tho  west,  throwing  out  long  streamers  eastwards.  A« 
they  advanced,  two  dense  and  perfectly  regular  cloud-masst-s 
appeared  in  front,  one  behind  the  other,  in  close  contact  yet  not 
intermingling, — the  one  being  of  a  uniform  leaden  grey,  while  thd 
other  was  as  black  as  the  smoke  of  a  steamer.  On  arriving  over- 
head, the  front,  though  slightly  wavy  in  appearance,  was  seen  to  be 
quite  straight  in  its  general  direction,  and  the  bands  were  of  uniform 
breadth.  They  rushed  forward  at  grcit  speed  under  the  other 
clouds  without  uniting  with  them,  preser\'ing  their  foims  unbroken, 
being  borne  onward  by  an  apparently  irrcsibtible  force,  as  if  com- 
posed of  some  solid  material  rather  than  vapoun  They  extended 
probably  50  miles  in  length,  but  as  they  took  only  a  few  minutes 
to  pass  their  breadth  was  not  great,  and  they  appeared  to  diminish 
to  mere  lines  in  the  distant  horizon.  At  the  instant  the  first  cloud- 
band  arrived  overhead,  the  wind  chopped  round  from  north-east  to 
north  and  then  to  south-west;  a  strong  cold  blast  at  the  same  time 
seemed  to  fall  from  the  leaden  cloud,  and  continued  to  blow  till 
both  bands  had  passed.  No  rain  or  thunder  occurred  at  this  time,: 
but  in  the  confused  rabble  of  clouds  which  followed  low  thunder 
continued  to  roll,  and  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour  rain  fell,  and  for  some 
hours  thereafter  wind,  rain,  and  thunder  continued,  but  only  to  s 
moderate  degree.  The  low  temperature  and  rising  barometer  and 
change  of  wind  are  the  constant  and  most  striking  characterisricg 
of  the  pampero.  On  one  occasion  the  temperature  fell  44*  in  four- 
teen hours,  and  on  another  occasion  the  fall  was  only  4°.  Rain  ia 
a  usual  accompaniment,  but  on  rare  otcaaions  the  pamj^ro  passes  o9 
and  no  tain  falls. 


150 


METEOROLOGY 


LaiiiiFALij 


Rainfall. — Wliatever  tends  to  lower  the  temperature  of 
the  air  below  the  dew-point  is  a  cause  of  rain.  It  is  there- 
fore to  the  winds  we  must  chiefly  look  for  an  explanation 
of  the  rainfall,  and  the  broad  principles  of  the  connexion 
may  be  stated  to  be  these  five  : — (1)  when  the  winds  have 
previously  traversed  a  considerable  extent  of  ocean,  the 
rainfall  is  moderately  large ;  (2)  if  the  winds  advance  at 
the  same  time  into  colder  regions,  the  rainfall  is  largely 
increased,  because  the  temperature  is  sooner  reduced  below 
the  point  of  saturation  ;  (3)  if  the  winds,  though  arriving 
from  the  ocean,  have  not  traversed  a  ownsiderable  extent  of 
it,  the  rainfall  is  not  large;  (4)  if  the  winds,  even  though 
having  traversed  a  large  extent  of  ocean,  yet  on  arriving 
at  the  land  proceed  into  lower  latitudes  or  regions  markedly 
warmer,  the  rainfall  is  small  or  nil ;  ;(6)  if  a  range  of 
mountains  lies  across  the  onward  path  of  the  winds,  the 
rainfall  is  largely  increased  on  the  side  facing  the  winds, 
and  reduced  over  the  regions  on  the  other  side  of  the 
range.  The  reason  here  is.  that,  the  air  on  the  windward 
side  of  the  ridge  being  suddenly  raised  to  a  greater 
height  in  crossing  the  range,  the  temperature  is  further 
reduced  by  mere  expansion,  and  a  more  copious  precipita- 
tion is  the  result ;  whereas  on  the  leeward  side  as  the  air 
descends  to  lower  levels  it  becomes  gradually  drier,  and 
accordingly  the  rainfall  rapidly  diminishes  with  the 
descent. 

We  have  drawn  attention  to  the  dimiuished  velocity  of  the  wind 
over  land  as  compared  with  the  open  sea  (p.  125).  From  this  it 
follows  that  an  envelope  of  stiller  air  or  air  of  less  velocity  than 
that  of  the .  prevailing  wind  broods  over  the  land,  and  by  its 
presence  forces  the  prevailing  wind  to  a  greater  height,  thus  tending 
to  increase  the  rainfall.  It  the  foreshore  rises  within  a  few  milos 
to  a  height  of  200  or  300  feet,  the  result  is  very  striking  when  tlie 
wind  from  the  sea  blows  straight  upon  it.  Thus  at  Spittal;  near 
Berwick,  on  September  1877,  a  N.E.  wind  blew  .straight  ashore  at 
an  estimated  velocity  of  25  miles  an  hour.  To  eastward  the  sky 
was  singularly  clear  down  to  the  horizon,  but  to  westward  all  the 
country  beyond  a  mile  from  the  shore  was  enveloped  in  what 
appeared  a  dense  mist  or  fog.  About  16°  to  eastward  of  the  zenith 
of  an  observer  on  the  shore,  the  thinnest  rack  of  cloudlets  was  seen 
emerging  without  intermission  from  tlio  deep  stainless  blue  of  the 
sky,  which  as  they  drifted  landward  increased  so  rapidly  iu  vulume 
and  density  that  the  zenith  was  three-fourths  covered  with  clouds. 
A  similar  phenomenon  was  seen  in  September  1879  on  board  the 
Orkney  steamer  at  the  magnificent  cliff  of  Hoy  Island,  Orkney. 
A  heavy  storm  had  just  cleared  away,  and  a  strong  W.N.W.  wind 
was  blowing  right  against  the  cUif.  The  sky  was  absolutely  cloud- 
less all  round,  except  the  upper  300  feet  of  Hoy  Hill,  1570  feet  high, 
which  was  enveloped  in  a  tliick  mist  that  stretched  away  to  wind- 
ward, some  distance  to  westward  of  the  steamer's  course,  which 
was  about  2  miles  from  land.  The  western  termination  of  the 
cloud  was  the  thinnest  rack  of  cloud,  which  emerged  unceasingly 
from  the  blue  sky  at  a  distance  not  less  than  i  miles  to  wind- 
ward of  the  clilf.  The  constituent  parts  of  the  cloud  itself  were  in 
rapid  motion  eastward,  but,  owing  to  the  fresh  accessions  it  was 
constantly  receiving,  the  cloud  itself  appeared  stationary.  Thus 
the  wind  was  forced  upward  into  tlie  atmospliero  for  some  consider- 
able distance  to  windivard  of  the  ridge  lying  across  its  path. 

It  is  this  dragging  effect  of  the  land  on  tlie  wind,  and  the  con- 
sequences which  result  from  it,  that  explain  how  it  is  that  during 
storms  of  wind  and  rain  from  the  north-east  tiie  rainfall  over  the 
foreshores  of  the  Firth  of  Forth,  the  Moray  Firth,  and  the  Pentland 
Firth  looking  to  the  north-east  is  so  much  in  excess  as  compared 
with  the  rest  of  Scotland.  Tlie  same  principle  explains  the  heavy 
rainfall  in  plains  at  some  distance  from  the  range  of  hills  lying 
across  the  wind's  path  and  on  tlie  side  of  the  rain-bringing  winds. 

For  short  intervals  of  time  the  heaviest  rainfalls  occur 
with  tornadoes,  waterspouts,  and  some  other  forms  of  the 
whirlwind,  the  reason  being  that  not  only  is  there  rapid 
expansion  due  to  the  rapid  ascent  of  the  air,  but  also  great 
rarefaction  is  produced  by  the  extreme  velocity  of  the 
aerial  gyrations  round  the  axis  of  the  tornado.  On  August 
1,  1846,  3-12  inches  of  rain  fell  at  CamberweJl,  London, 
in  two  hours  and  seventeen  minutes.  Of  heavy  falls 
may  be  mentioned  4'60  inches  in  London,  April  13, 
1878;  600  inches  at  Tongue,  September  7,  1870;  0-36, 
Anchos  in  Monmouthshire,  July  14,  1875;  6-62  inches  at 


Seathwaite,  Cumberland,  November  27,  1848;  and  712 
inches  at  Drishaig,  Argyllshire,  December  7  to  8,  1863. 
But  it  is  in  lower  latitudes  that  the  heaviest  single  showers 
have  been  recorded.  The  following  are  among  the  most 
remarkable  : —at  Joyeusc,  France,  31 -17  inches  in  twenty- 
two  hours;  at  Genoa,  30-00 inches  in  twenty-four  hour.,;  at 
Gibraltar,  33'00  inches  in  twenty-six  hour.s;  on  the  hills  above 
Bombay,  24-00  inches  in  one  night ;  and  on  the  Khasi 
Hills,  India,  30-00  inches  on  each  of  five  successive  days. 

As  regards  the  ocean,  there  are  no  available  data  from 
which  an  estimate  could  be  formed  as  to  the  amount 
of.  the  rainfall,  since  the  rainfall  statistics  of  the  ocean 
must  be  regarded  as  giving  hardly  anything  more  than 
the  comparative  frequency  of  the  fall.  It  is,  however, 
certain  that  the  equatorial  belt  of  calms  in  the  Atlantic 
and  Pacific  between  the  trades  is  the  region  where  the  ocean 
rainfall  reaches  the  maximum,  and  the  parts  of  these 
oceans  are  the  rainiest  which  are  the  longest  within  the 
belt  of  calms  as  it  shifts  its  position  northward  and  south- 
ward ^vith  season.  While  the  cloud-screen  is  undoubtedly 
dense,  and  the  rainfall  frequent  and  heavy,  the  careful 
observations  of  the  "Challenger"  and  "Novara"  show 
that  the  statements  generally  made  as  to  these  ooints  are 
greatly  exaggerated. 

In  the  regions  of  the  trades  the  rainfall  is  everywhere 
small  over  the  open  sea,  seeing  that  the  trade--winds  are 
essentially  an  outflow  from  anticyclonic  regions,  and  their 
original  dryness  is  to  a  largo  extent  maintained  becau.-^o 
their  course  is  directed  into  regions  which  become  con- 
stantly -narmer.  Thus  at  Ascension,  lat.  8°  45'  S.,  which 
is  throughout  the  Avhole  year  within  the  S.E.  trades,  the 
mean  rainfall  for  the  two  years  1854-55  was  only  8-85 
inches.  At  St  Helena,  which  lies  constantly  within  the 
same  trades,  five  years ,give  a  meai/ rainfall  of  5-3G  inches 
on  the  coast;  but  in  the  same  island  at  a  height  of  1763 
feet  the  annual  amount  rises  to  23-98  inches.  Maiden 
Island  and  some  other  islands  in  the  Pacific,  about  loifg. 
150°  W.,  and  for  some  distance  on  each  side  of  the  equator, 
have  been  pointed  to  by  Scott  as  practically  almost  rain- 
less, as  is  shown  by  their  containing  extensive  guano 
deposits.  These  islands  are  situated  somewhat  similarly 
to  Ascension  with  respect  to  the  zone  of  calms.  In 
Mauritius  the  annual  rainfall  on  a  mean  of  four  years 
was  30  inches  at  Oros  Cailloux,  but  at  Cluny,  only  16 
miles  distant,  for  the  same  four  years  it  was  146  inches: 
in  regard  to  which  Meldrura  remarks  that  at  Cluny,  -which 
is  in  the  vicinity  of  mountains  and  forests,  in  the  south- 
east of  the  island, .  and  thus  directly  exposed  to  the  trade- 
■svind  as  it  arrives  from  the  sea,  the  rainfaU  in  almost  any 
month  is  from  four  to  six  times  greater  than  at  Gros 
Cailloux  on  the  north-west  coast,  where  neither  mountain 
nor  forest  exists,  and  where  the  S.E.  trade  arrives  con- 
siderably drained  of  its  moisture. 

From  what  has  been  said  it  is  e-vident  that  the  heaviest 
rains  will  bo  brought  by  the  winds  which  have  traversed 
the  greatest  extent  of  ocean  within  the  tropics,  and  which 
accordingly  of  all  ocean  winds  have  the  highest  temperature 
and  humidity.  These  conditions  are  most  completely 
fulfilled  during  the  summer  months  of  the  northern 
hemisphere  by  the  \^inds  -nhich,  commencing  from  near 
lat.  30°  S.,  blow  home  on  southern  Asia  a^  the  well-kno-wn 
S.W.  monsoon  of  these  regions.  Accordingly  it  is  by  the 
winds  of  this  monsoon  that  a  larger  rainfall  is  distributed 
over  a  larger  portion  of  the  earth's  surface  than  occurs 
anywhere  else  in  any  season;  and  this  large  rainfall  is 
in  many  regions  still  farther  greatly  increased  by  the 
mountain  ranges  -which  lie  across  the  path  of  the  rain; 
bringing  winds. 

It  is  on  these  -winds  th&t  the  rainfall  of  India  chiefly 
depends.    Along  the  wholo  of  the  woet   coast  from  the 


KADTFALL.] 


METEOROLOGY 


151 


Qulf  of  Cambay  southward,  and  on  the  Western  Ghats, 
the  rainfall  is  excessive.  The  following  are  some  of  the 
more  interesting  annual  means  in  inches  beginning  with 
Bombay  and  proceeding  southwards : — Bombay,  74 ; 
Matheram,  247 ;  Mahabaleshwar,  252  ;  Ratnagiri,  104 ; 
Baura,  255;  Goa,  102;  Karwar,  115;  Honawar,  139; 
Mangalore,  134;  Cannanore,  132;  Calicut,  116;  and 
Cochin,  114.  Ip  the  west  of  Ceylon  the  rainfall  is  also 
heavy,  being  at  Colombo  87,  at  Galle  91,  and  at 
Ratnapura,  at  some  distance  inland  among  the  hills,  149. 
Since  the  S.W.  monsoon  is  drained  of  much  of  its 
moisture  in  crossing  these  mountains,  a  greatly  diminished 
rainfall  is  distributed  over  the  interior  and  east  side  of 
India,  and  on  the  eastern  slopes  of  Ceylon. 

If  now  we  cross  to  the  eastern  shores  of  the  Bay  of 
Bengal,  we  again  encounter  an  excessive  rainfall  along  these 
coasts  and  up  the  slopes  of  the  mountains  looking  down  on 
them.  Thus  from  south  northward  the  following  are 
among  the  more  characteristic  rainfaUs  in  inches : — 
Nancawry,  102;  Port  Blair,  116;  Mergui,  152;  Tavoy, 
196;  Maulmain,  189;  Rangoon,  100;  Bassein,  98; 
Sandoway,  212;  Akyab,  198;  and  Chittagong  104.  On 
the  other  hand,  at  Thyetmio,  inland  on  the  Irawadi,  the 
annual  rainfall  i.=i  only  48  inches. 

We  have  shown  how,  in  accordance  with  the  peculiar 
distribution  of  pressure  in  India  in  svunmer,  the  monsoon 
is  diverted  up  the  valley  of  the  Ganges  as  an  E.S.E.  wind, 
distributing  on  its  way,  even  to  the  head  of  the  valley,  in 
a  generous  rainfall  the  moisture  it  has  brought  from  the 
Indian  Ocean  and  the  Bay  of  Bengal.  The  rainfall  does 
not  extend  far'the  westward  than  the  basin  of  the  Ganges, 
and  the  precipitation  ia  most  copious  along  the  lower 
Himalayas,  the  largest  falls  being  recorded  at  heights 
about  4000  feet, — being,  as  pointed  out  by  Hill,  near  the 
level  at  which  the  summer  monsoon  is  cooled  just  below 
its  dew-point.  The  following  are  some  of  the  larger  rain- 
falls in  inches,  beginning  with  the  more  western: — Mus- 
sooree,  95 ;  Naini  Tal,  92 ;  Khatmandu,  57 ;  Darjiling, 
121  ;  Kurseong,  154;  Buxa,  219;  Kuch  Behar,  131. 

The  rainfall  is  very  large  in  the  north-east  angle  of  the 
Bay  of  Bengal  and  thence  northwards  towards  Bhutan,  or 
at  the  angle  where  the  summer  monsoon  from  the  bay 
curves  round  to  a  westerly  course  on  its  way  up  the 
Ganges.  Thus  at  Koakhally,  on  the  coast,  it  amounts  in 
inches  to  109 ;  at  Tura,  on  the  Brahmaputra,  immediately 
to  west  of  the  Garo  Hills,  129;  at  Silchar  and  Sylhet  to 
eastward,  117  and  155;  whilst  at  Cherrapunji,  on  the 
Khasi  Hills,  it  rises  to  493-l'9  inches  on  a  mean  of  twenty- 
four  years.  This  last  rainfall  is  the  largest  known  on  the 
globe,  the  causes  of  which  are  the  highly  saturated  state 
of  the  monsoon  on  its  arrival  at  the  lower  Ganges,  the 
high  mountain  range  of  Burmah  to  eastward  of  Bengal, 
which  turns  the  monsoon  to  the  north,  and  the  protrusion 
westwards  of  the  Khasi  and  Garo  HUls  so  as  to  lie  in  the 
line  of  that  branch  of  the  monsoon  which  passes  from  the 
lower  Ganges  into  the  basin  of  the  Brahmaputra  above 
Goalpara.  The  consequence  is  that  the  highly  saturated 
ail'  of  the  monsoon  in  its  passage  across  the  Ivhasi  Hills  is 
suddenly  raised  to  a  height  of  about  6000  feet,  and  being 
thereby  reduced  far  below  the  point  of  saturation  the 
superabundant  moisture  is  precipitated  in  unequalled 
deluges  of  rain.  The  amount  of  the  annual  rainfall  at  all 
these  places  is  determined,  essentially  if  not  altogether,  by 
the  rains  of  the  summer  monsoon,  the  relative  intensity  of 
Tvhich  over  India  may  be  taken  to  be  fairly  represented  by 
'the  rainfall  of  July. 

The  rains  which  accompany  the  N.E.  monsoon  of  the 
winter  months  may  bo  represented  by  the  rainfall  for 
JaKiary.  These  are  heaviast  in  Ceylon,  especially  on  its 
gast   slopes,   and  in  southern  India,  or  where   the  N.E. 


monsoon  arrives  sfttir  having  tra.arsod  a  large  extent  of 
ocean.  The  fall  for  the  month  exceeds  6  inches  over  ji 
large  portion  of  the  east  coast,  whilst  at  Colombo  in  the 
west  the  rainfall  is  only  half  that  amount,  and  farther  north 
at  Pattalum  the  Januar}-  rainfall  is  only  1'82  inches.  lu 
southern  India  the  amount  varies  from  about  1  to  2  inches. 
Blanford  pointed  out  in  1873  (Phil.  Tram.,  vol.  cLxiv.  p. 
618)  that,  while  the  surface  windsof  northern  India  in  win- 
ter are  northerly,  on  the  Himalayas,  especially  the  nortli- 
west  portion,  southerly  winds  prevail  during  the  cold  month.s. 
It  is  these  upper  southerly  winds  which  bring  the  winter 
rains  to  the  Punjab,  Upper  Itdia,  and  the  highlands  of 
Assam.  It  is  further  to  be  noted  that  wnter  rains  also 
occur  in  Central  India,  where  the  prevailing  surface  winds 
are  from  east  and  north-east.  The  mean  rainfall  of  January 
at  Mussooree  is  2'00  inches  and  at  Naini  Tal  2'86  inches, 
and  in  Assam,  at  Sibsagar,  1'13  inch.  Over  a  large  tract 
of  the  east  side  of  southern  India  from  NeUore  southward, 
including  Ceylon,  the  maximum  rainfall  for  the  year  occurs 
in  the  months  of  October  and  November. 

Rainfall  of  tlie  Malay  Archipelago  and  Australia.  — Uudcr  the 
direction  of  the  late  Dr  Bergsma,  systematic  observations  of  the 
rainfall  of  the  Slalay  archipelago  were  begun  in  3879,  the  number 
of  stations  being  150.  The  results  of  the  first  three  years  show  that 
the  mean  annual  rainfall  over  the  arcliipelago  varies  from  about  60 
inches  in  Timor  to  upwards  of  200  inches  at  some  spots  among  the 
western  slopes  of  Sumatra.  But  the  most  important  feature  in  tljo 
rainfall  in  its  relations  to  climate  is  not  the  absolute  amount  that 
falls  annually,  but  rather  the  manner  of  its  distribution  through 
the  months  of  the  year.  Over  the  greater  number  of  the  islands 
rain  falls  copiously  every  month;  but  as  regards  some  of  the  islands 
the  year  is  divided  into  dry  and  wet  seasons  as  marked  as  are  seen 
in  the  climates  of  India.  The  key  to  this  essential  dilTerence  among 
the  climates  is  the  distribution  of  atmospheric  pressure  during  tho 
months  of  the  year  from  south-eastern  Asia  to  Australia;  with  the 
resulting  prevailing  winds.  During  the  winter  months  atmospheric 
pressure  is  high  in  south-eastern  Asia  and  low  in  the  interior  of 
Australia,  the  difference  being  about  three-quarters  of  an  inch. 
Since  between  these  tvio  regions  the  fall  in  tho  mean  pressure  is 
practically  uninterrupted,  the  Malny  archipelago  lying  between 
them  is  swept  by  northerly  winds  (fig.  14).  As  these  winds  have 
traversed  a  great  breadth  of  ocean  in  their  course,  they  arriVe  in  a 
highly  saturated  state,  and  consequently  deposit  a  copious  rainfall, 
particularly  on  the  northern  slopes  of  the  higher  islands.  Hence 
in  these  months  the  rainfall  over  the  islands  without  exception  is 
large,  the  mean  monthly  amount  being  in  many  cases  more  than  30 
inches.  These  winds  continue  their  course  to  southward  towards  the 
low-pressure  region  in  the  interior  of  Australia,  and  deposit  along  the 
north  coasts  of  that  continent  a  monthly  rainfall  rising  generally 
to  from  14  to  20  inches.  On  advancing  into  the  interior,  the  mean 
amount  gradually  diminishes  at  the  successive  telegraphic  stations 
to  3  "50  inches  at  Alice  Springs  near  the  tropic  of  Capricorn.  The 
amount  of  the  rainfall  for  any  particular  year,  and  the  distance  from 
the  coast  to  which  the  rains  penetrate  inland,  depend  essentially  on 
the  height  of  the  winter  pressure  of  south-eastern  Asia  as  compared 
with  tho  low  mean  pressure  of  central  Australia,  by  which  the 
strength  of  the  northerly  monsoon  is  regulated. 

On  the  other  hand,  during  the  summer  of  the  northern  hemisphere 
pressure  is  high  in  the  interior  of  Australia  and  low  in  China,  the' 
mean  difterence  being  about  half  an  inch.  Between  the  two  regions 
the  fall  in  the  mean  pressure  is  continuous  and  uninterrupted,  and 
as  a  consequence  southerly  winds  prevail  over  the  intervening  archi- 

Eelago.  These  winds,  as  they  advance  from  the  continent  into  lower 
ititudes,  are  absolutely  rainless  in  the  north  of  Australia,  and  over 
Timor  and  the  other  Malay  islands  which  arc  separated  from 
Australia  only  by  a  comparatively  narrow  belt  of  sea.  During  the 
three  years  no  rain  whatever  fell  in  Timor  in  July  and  A  igust,  and 
tlie  fall  in  June,  September,  and  October  was  small.  As,  however, 
the  winds  pursue  their  course  to  northward,  they  'agerly  lick  up 
moisture  from  the  sea,  so  that  by  the  time  they  arrive  at  Aniboyna 
they  have  become  so  saturated  that  the  monthly  rainfall  there  rises 
to  nearly  30  inches.  Again  at  some  distance  to  the  west  of  Timor 
rain  falls  more  or  less  regularly  every  month,  the  amount  inci'eas- 
ing  in  proportion  to  the  extent  of  ocean  traversed  by  tho  S.E.I 
winds,  which  advance  towards  these  islands  from  the  direction  of 
Australia.  These  marked  differences  among  the  climates  of  tho 
Malay  archipelago,  which,  since  they  really  dep-'nd  on  the  geo- 
graphical distribution  of  land  and  sea  of  this  part  of  the  glote,  must 
be  regarded  as  permanent  differences,  have  played  no  inconspicuous 
part  in  the  singular  distribution  of  animal  and  vegetable  life  which 
characterizes  the  archipelago. 


152 


METEOROLOGY 


[P.AI:!!  .iXJ, 


In  July  tlio  prcTailins  wind  in  West  Australia  is  N.W.,  and  the 
miiifall  riachcs  the  maximinn  for  tho  year,  whereas  in  January  tha 
wind  is  H. E.,  and  tho  rainfall  is  the  minimum.  Similarly  in 
January  since  tho  winds  of  the  southern  half  of  South  Aastralia  and 
Victoria  are  from  the  south,  and  thus  blow  towards  warmer  regions, 
tho  rainfall  is  eitlier  at  the  annual  minimum,  or  it  is  small.  But 
on  rounding  the  coast  and  proceeding  northward,  the  wind  becomes 
E. ,  then  N.  E.,  and  ultimately  N.  in  the  north  of  Queensland. 
Willi  this  pri'valence  of  oceanic  and  equatorial  winds,  the  rainfall 
at  this  time  of  the  year  rapidly  rises  over  the  whole  of  tlio  eastern 
.slopes,  till  at  Capo  York  it  is  about  20  inches.  In  tho  basins  of  tho 
Murray  and  Darling  rivers,  which  are  shut  off  from  tlie  cast  by  tho 
mountain  ranges  of  Now  South  Wales,  the  rainfall  is  only  about  an 
inch  and  a  half.  On  the  other  hand,  to  south  of  the  latitude  of 
Sydney,  including  Tasmania,  the  maximum  rainfall  occurs  in  winter 
over  tliose  regions  which  slope  south  towards  the  sea.  On  crossing 
the  mountain  range  of  Victoria  into  the  basin  of  the  Murray  river, 
the  rainfall  rapidly  diminishes.  In  the  north  of  New  Zealand  the 
winter  rainfall  is  the  heaviest;  but  farther  south,  where  westerly 
winds  prevail  with  some  steadiness  through  the  year,  the  rainfall  is 
more  equally  distributed  through  the  months  ;  and,  as  the  prevailing 
winds  are  westerly,  the  heaviest  rainfall  is  in  the  west  of  the  islands. 
Thus  at  Hokitika  in  the  west  near  sea-level,  and  not  far  from  a  lofty 
range  of  mountains  to  the  east,  the  annual  amount  reaches  120 
inches,  and  at  Bealey  inland  at  a  height  of  2104  feet  it  is  106 
inches.  At  Wellington  the  annual  rainfall  is  52  inches,  at 
Southland  46,  at  Dunedin  34,  and  at  Christchuroh  25,  thus 
showing,  in  the  rainfall  of  the  two  sides  of  the  island,  extremes 
nearly  as  great  as  in  Scotland. 

Rainfall  of  Europe. — As  regards  roinfaU,  Europe  may  be 
conveniently  divided  into  two  distinct  regions, — western  and 
northern  Europe,  extending  in  a  modified  degree  througli 
the  interior  of  the  continent  into  Siberia,  and  the  countries 
bordering  on  the  Mediterranean.  A  vast  ocean  on  the  one 
hand,  a  great  continent  on  the  other,  and  a  predominance 
of  westerly  winds  are  the  determining  circumstances  in  the 
distribution  of  the  rainfall  over  western  Europe.  Hence 
the  rainiest  regions  are  to  be  found  in  the  west,  where 
mountain  ranges  stretch  north  and  south.  The  annual 
rainfall  exceeds  80  inches  over  a  considerable  district, 
including  the  greater  part  of  Skye  and  portions  of  the 
counties  of  Inverness  and  Argyll  to  the  south-east,  in  the 
lake  district  of  England,  and  in  the  more  mountainous 
parts  of  North  Wales, — these  three  districts  being  the 
wettest  in  Europe.  As  Ireland  presents  no  continuous 
range  of  mountains  opposing  the  westerly  winds  of  the 
Atlantic,  no  Irish  rain-gauge  shows  a  mean  rainfall  of  80 
inches.  A  point  of  some  interest  is  suggested  by  the  rain- 
fall of  the  counties  of  Kirkcudbright  and  Dmnfries  in 
Scotland.  These  counties  offer  to  the  westerly  winds  a 
series  of  valleys  sloping  south  to  the  Solway  Firth,  which 
show  successively  a  diminished  rairtfall  on  advancing  east- 
ward till  at  several  places  in  Nithsdale  and  Annandale  it 
does  not  exceed  40  inches.  But  in  Eskdale,  farther  to  the 
tast,  the  rainfall  instead  of  falling  increases  to  about  CO 
inches.  The  reason  is  that  the  westerly  winds  are 
obstructed  in  their  onward  course  by  the  range  of  hills  by 
which  Eskdalo  is  bounded  on  the  east,  in  surmounting 
which  tho  ^vind3  are  much  reduced  in  temperature,  and  their 
superabundant  moisture  falls  iu  copious  rains  immediately 
to  westward  of  the  ridge.  The  cause  of  tho  larger  rainfall 
of  Eskdale  is  thus  analogous  to  that  of  the  large  rainfall 
i^f  tho  coast  in  the  north-east  of  the  Bay  of  Bengal 
immediately  under  the  Assam  rango  of  mountains.  In 
England  the  largest  annual  rainfall  is  140  inches  at  Soa- 
thwaite  in  the  Lake  district,  in  Scotland  128  inches  at 
•  jlencroe  in  Argyll,  whilst  in  Ireland  the  largest  is  only 
70  inches.  The  driest  part  of  tho  British  Islands  is  an 
extensive  district  to  south-south-west  of  the  Wash,  with  a 
rainfall  of  about  21  inches.  A  large  extent  of  England, 
and  all  the  more  important  agricultural  districts  in  Scotland, 
have  a  rainfall  under  30  inches :  the  greater  part  of 
England,  and  nearly  tho  half  of  Scotland,  liavo  a  rainfall  not 
exceeding  40  inches ;  but  in  Ireland  it  is  isolated  patches 
only  that  show  a  rainfall  less  than  40  inches. 


In  tho  west  of  Norway  the  rainfall  iu  inches  is  72  at 
Bergen,  51  at  Aalesund,  40  at  the  Naze  and  in  the  Lofoten 
Isles,  falling  to  10  at  tho  _,'orth  Cape.  At  Christiania, 
Upsala,  and  a  large  part  of  the  east  of  Scandinavia  tho 
rainfall  is  about  21  inches,  falling  to  16  inches  on  the 
north  coast  of  the  Gulf  of  Bothnia.  In  Russia  and  Siberia 
it  rises  only  at  a  few  places  to  20  inches,  several  di.^tricta 
of  this  extensive  region  having  an  annual  rainfall  of  10,  5, 
3,  or  even  2  inches.  The  rainfall  of  Spain  presents  great 
ortremes — from  68  inches  at  Santiago  to  13  inches  .at 
Saragossa.  In  France  and  the  plains  of  Germany  ihe 
average  varies  from  35  to  20  inches,  but  in  mounts iric^u? 
regions  these  figures  are  greatly  exceeded,  rising  t!i  rough 
all  gradations  to  upwards  of  100  inches  at  some  poiiits  in 
the  Alps. 

An  important  distinction  between  the  manner  of  distri- 
bution of  the  rainfall  in  the  west  of  Europe  and  at  mora 
inland  places  is  that  the  greater  part  of  the  annual  quantity 
of  the  west  falls  in  winter,  whilst  in  the  interior  the 
amount  in  summer  is  greater  than  in  winter.  The  rainfall 
of  January  and  July  shows  this  in  a  very  forcible 
manner.  The  summer  climates  of  the  extreme  south 
of  Europe  and  North  Africa  are  rainless,  and  over  exten- 
sive regions  in  the  south  of  Europe  adjoining  the  July 
rainfall  does  not  amount  to  an  inch.  Over  these  dry 
regions  the  prevailing  winds  of  summer  are  northerly,  and 
hence  the  drought  which  characterizes  thom.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  rainfall  in  the  interior  of  the  continent  is  large. 
In  January  the  maximum  rainfalf  occm-s  on  the  mountains 
and  high  grounds  overlooking  the  Atlantic,  and  the 
minimum  on  the  plains  of  Russia. 

Owing  to  the  way  in  which  Europe  is  broken  up  by  the 
seas  which  diversify  its  surface,  the  time  of  the  year  when 
the  rain  attains  the  maximum  differs  greatly  in  different 
regions.  This  phase  of  the  rainfall  occurs,  indeed,  accord- 
ing to  locality,  in  aU  months  except  February,  March,  and 
April.  The  month  of  occurrence  of  the  annual  maximum 
rainfall  over  Em  ope  is  shown  by  fig.   18.     A  similar  map 


Fia.  1,8.— Showing  Jlonth  of  Ma 


Rainfall  in  Europe. 


representing  tho  month  of  least  rainfall  shows  still  greater 
uniformity  in  a  regular  succession  of  the  months  in  passing 
from  region  to  region.  Thus  tho  month  of  least  rainfall  is 
January  on  tho  lower  Volga,  February  in  western  Russia  and 
tho  greater  part  of  central  Europe,  March  in  the  north  of 
France  and  south  of  Great  Britain,  April  farther  to  the  north. 


BAINFALL.J 


METEOROLOGY 


May  in  Scotland  north  of  the  Grampians,  June  in  Orkney, 
Bhetland,  Iceland,  the  west  of  Ireland,  and  the  nonh-west 
of  France,  and  July  over  the  whole  of  the  south  of  Europe. 
The  driest  month  occurs  nowhere  in  Europe  in  any  of  the 
five  months  from  August  to  December. 

Eainfall  of  Korth  America. — West  of  the  Rocky  Monntains  the 
rainfall  is  very  unequally  distributed,  the  annual  amounts  varying 
from  86  inches  at  Astoria,  near  the  monlh  of  the  Columbia  river, 
to  8  inches  at  Sau  Diego  on  the  coast,  and  3  inches  at  the  head  of 
the  Gulf  of  California.  Qver  the  whole  of  the  region  between  the 
Cascade  and  Rocky  Mountains  the  rainfall  at  all  seasons  is  extremely 
email,  this  being  indeed  that  feature  in  the  climate  to  which  tha 
fonnation  of  the  canons  of  that  region  is  chiefly  to  be  referred.  On 
the  other  hand,  in  the  United  States  and  Canada  to  east  of  long.  100° 
W.  the  distinguishing  feature  of  the  rainfall  is  the  comparative 
equableness  of  its  distribution,  an  annual  rainfall  exceeding  50 
inches  occurring  only  over  restricted  districts,  and  a  rainfall  as  low 
OS  20  inches  being  scarcely  met  with  anywhere.  The  regions  where 
the  rainfall  exceeds  50  inches  aro  Florida,  the  lower  basin  of  the 
Mississippi,  and  the  Atlantic  seaboards  of  Nova  Scotia  and  Hew- 
foundlana. 

In  January  the  annual  maximum  rainfall  occurs  over  the  whole 
of  the  west  coast  from  Sitka  to  lower  California;  but  in  the 
Interior  between  long.  120°  and  95°  W.  the  amount  is  everywhere 
email,  and  over  a  considerable  part  in  the  south-west  of  this  region 
no  rain  falls.  The  region  of  largest  rainfall  extends  from  Louisiana 
to  West  Virginia,  where  the  mean  varies  from  4  to  6  inches.  Over 
nearly  tha  whole  of  the  Dominion  of  Canada,  by  much  the  greater 
part  of  the  winter  precipitation  is  in  the  form  of  snow,  which  has 
been  carefully  measured  and  recorded  by  tlic  Meteorological  Ser- 
vice. The  average  snowfall  for  January  exceeds  30.  inches  at  St 
John's,  Newfoundland,  in  Anticosti,  Piinca  Edward  Island,  and 
in  many  other  regions. 

In  July  the  rainfall  is  everywhere  small  in  the  west,  a  large 
part  of  this  extensive  region  being  absolutely  rainless.  The 
remarkable  dryness  of  the  climate  at  this  season  is  due  to  the  N.W. 
winds  that  set  in  towards  the  low  pre3sur:>  of  the  interior,  which 
thus  blow  towards  warmer  regions.  The  rainfall  to  the  east  of  the 
lEocky  Mountains  is  distributed  by  the  winds  which  are  connected 
iwith  the  low-pressure  region  of  the  interior  and  with  the  high- 
jjressure  region  of  the  Atlantic.  The  result  is  two  regions  of  larger 
^nfall,  the  one  in  the  south-east  of  the  States  and  the  other  to  the 
rwest  of  the  lakes.  The  summer  winds  of  the  south-eastern  coasts  are 
■ontherly,  and  as  they  are  anticyclonic  in  their  origin  and  have  in 
their  course  traversed  some  extent  of  ocean,  they  arrive  well-  but  not 
super-saturated,  and  pour  down  a  rainfall  in  July  of  6  inchea  and 
npwarda  along  the  coasts  and  for  some  distance  inland  from  Louisi- 
ana to  Chesapeake  Bay.  Further,  since  in  July  these  winds  attain 
itheir  maximum  force  and  persistency,  the  rainfall  at  the  same 
Itime  reaches  the  maximum  along  the  whole  coast  from  Boston  to 
some  distance  west  of  New  Orleans.  Since  the  summer  winds  blow 
in  th"j  line  of  the  Alleghaay  mountains  and  not  across  them,  the 
rainfall  diminishes  in  ascending  their  slopes.  The  comparative 
equableness  of  the  rainfall  over  the  eastern  States  is  the  necessary 
Jesuit  of  the  winds'  passing  into  higher  latitudes,  and,  therefore, 
cooler  regions.  A  broad  region  where  the  rainfall  is  less  than  on 
each  side  of  it,  extends  from  Michigan  to  the  south-west  as  far  as 
Canadian  River.     To  the  west  of  the  lakes  the  rainfall  rises  above 

4  inches,  and,  since  over  this  region  the  winds  become  somewhat 
easterly  as  they  flow  towards  the  low-pressure  area,  it  is  probable 
that  the  larger  rainfall  of  this  prairie  region  has  its  origin  in  no 
email  degree  in  the  evaporation  of  the  lakes.  On  ascending  the 
higher  reaches  of  the  Mississippi,  the  amount  diminishes,  but 
scarcely  falls  lower  than  2  inches,  being  thus  analogous  to  the 
surn-.r.er  rains  of  the  Upper  Gauges.  On  crossing  the  water-parting 
into  the  basin  wliich  drams  into  Hudson  Bay,  we  encounter  E.  and 
N.K  win  Is  laden  with  vapour  licked  up  in  their  passage  over  Hud- 
son's Bay,  which  they  distribute  in  a  generous  rainfall  of  probably 

5  to  6  inches  over  the  rising  colonies  of  Manitoba  and  Saskat- 
chewan. An  important  point  in  the  climute  of  the  States  is  that 
over  nearly  the  whole  of  the  extensive  i-egion  stretching  between 
Alleghanies  and  Rocky  Mountains,  except  the  south  coast  already 
referred  to,  the  annual  maximum  rainfall  does  not  occur  in  summer 
iut  in  spring,  the  month  of  largest  rainfall  in  the  great  majority 
of  cases  being  Hay.  In  the  basin  of  Hudson's  Bay  July  is  the 
■month  of  largest  rainfall. 

Eainfall  of  Central  and  South  Arwrica. — The  following  arc,  in 
Inches,  the  larger  and  more  interesting  annual  rainfalls  round  the 
coasts:— Vera  Cruz,  182;  Belize,  75;  Maracaibo,  103;  Caracas, 
il65;  Georgetown,  95;  Paramaribo,  142;  Cayenne,  140;  Para,  71; 
Teniambuco,  109;  Buenos  Ayrcs,  34;  Bahia  Blanca,  19;  Puerto 
MoDtt,  102;  Valdivia,  109;  Valparaiso,  100;  Serena,  93;  Lima, 
8  ;^nd  a  large  part  of  Peru,  nil  A  remarkable  feature  of  the 
rainfall  of  South  America  is  the  large  amounts  that  fall  ill  the 
Insins  of  the  Orinoco  and  Amazon:  the  Call  is  91  inches  in  the 

l(>— 8» 


153 

npper  basin^of  the  Madeira,  and  112  inches  at  Tijuitcs  (lat.  3"  40' 
S. ,  long.  72°  57'  W.).  The  reason  is  that  tliia  immense  regioa, 
where  pressurg  appears  to  be  almost  constantly  low,  is  open  to  tha 
highly  saturateu  winds  that  blow  from  the  equatorial  Atlantic. 
Quite  different  is  the  distribution  of  the  rainfall  over  the  La 
Plata  bpsin.  The  annual  falls,  in  inches,  are  92  at  Joinville,  58 
at  Corrientes,  44  at  Monte  Video,  S6  at  Parana,  24  at  Santiago, 
22  at  San  Luis,  and  only  6  at  Mcndoza.  The  fall  rapidly  rises  in 
ascending  the  eastern  slopes  of  the  Brazil  mountains  facing  the 
South  Atlantic  ;  thus,  while  the  amount  at  Rio  Janeiio  is  45 
inches,  on  the  hills  to  northward  it  is  116  inches. 

In  January  northerly  winds  pre  Jiil  on  the  smith  coasts  of  the 
Gulf  of  Mexico  and  the.  Cj-ibbean  Sea,  and  as  they  have  their 
origin  in  the  high  pressure  of  the  American  continent,  and  in 
crossing  the  sea  pass  into  lower  latitudes,  the  January  rainfall  of 
these  coasts  is  comparatively  small.  In  July,  however,  the  prevail- 
ing winds  are  easterly,  and  as  they  have  traverfi  \  t.  \irffe  extent  of 
the  equatorial  waters  of  the  Atlantic  they  ars  higl.j^-  saturated, 
and  consequently  the  July  rainfall  of  these  coasts  is  everywhere 
very  large.  The  following  are,  ill  inches,  the  January  and  July 
rainfalls  :— Caracas,  1-00  and  14-04;  Gnatemah,  0-2S  and  10-79; 
Vera  Cruz,  5-10  and  35-90.  The  seasonal  distribution  of  the 
rainfall  in  the  basin  of  the  Amazon  is  the  reverse  of  this.  In 
January  the  position  of  the  belt  of  calms  is  about  lat.  3°  N.,  and 
as  pressure  is  rektively  low  over  the  basin  of  the  Amazon, 
especially  its  southrin  slopes,  the  trades  and  the  west  portion  of 
the  region  of  cabns  anitcdly  spread  their  highly  saturated  air  over 
the  whole  region  as  far  as  the  Andes,  resulting  in  one  of  the  most 
widespread  heavy  lainfaUs  anywhere  to  be  met  with.  On  the 
other  baud,  since  in  July  the  belt  of  calms  is  about  lat.  10°  N., 
the  saturated  atmosphere  of  the  tropical  regions  no'longer  flows  up 
the  Amazon,  but  is  caiTied  westward  into  the  Caribbean  Seaand  Gulf 
of  Mexico.  Hence  at  this  season  the  rainfall  of  the  Amazon  valley 
is  smalL  The  following  are,  in  inches,  the  January  aud  July 
falls:— Para,  6-51  and  3-26;  Manaos,  7-33  and  1-82;  ujiper 
Madeira,  15-90  and  030  ;  and  Yquitos,  10-24  and  4-26.  Ou  the 
La  Plata  in  January  pressure  is  low,  and  as  ^vinds  consequently 
blow  from  the  ocean  in  upon  the  region  of  low  pressure  the  rainfall 
is  large  ;  but  as  pressure  is  high  in  the  interim  in  July  the  i-aiufall 
in  that  month  is  small.  The  following  are,  in  inches,  the  Jannary 
and  July  rainfalls  :— Buenos  Ayrcs,  2-37  aud  1-70;  Parana,  4-63 
and  1-32;  Corrientes,  5  24  and  2-67;  Joinville,  14-26  aud  3-55; 
and  San  Luis,  2-63  and  0-00. 

Rainfall  of  Africa.  — As  regards  the  i-ainfall,  Africa  presents  the 
greatest  diversity  in  its  climates.  The  following  aro  the  annual 
amounts  in  inches  at  various  points  ou  or  near  the  coast : — Port 
Said,  2;  Alexandria,  8;  Tunis,  12;  Algiers  31;  Oran,  17;  Mogador, 
50;  month  of  the  Senegal,  17;  Goree,  21;  Sierra  Leone,  126; 
Christiansborg,  23;  St  Thomas,  40;  Gaboon,  106;  Loanda,  11; 
Capo  Town,  23;  Mossel  Bay,  12;  Port  Elizabeth,  24;  Durban,  43; 
Zanzibar,  68;  and  mouth  of  the  Zambezi,  61.  In  the  north  of  the 
continent,  the  rainfall  rapidly  diminishes  inland,  and  over  the  gi-cat 
desert  of  Sahara  practically  none  falls.  In  the  iutericr  of  Algiers 
it  diminishes,  the  amount  at  Laghouat  being  17  inches,  and  at 
Biskra  9.  In  Egypt  the  rainfall  is  limited  to  a  narrow  strip  along 
the  coast ;  at  Cairo  the  annual  fall  scarcely  amounts  to  an  inch. 
The  January  and  July  rainfalls  are,  in  inches,  as  foDows  ; — Port 
Said,  0-46  and  000;  Alexandria,  1-95  and  0-20;  Algiei-s,  4-43  and 
0-04;  Eiskra,  0-56  and  0-03;  St  Louis  (Senegal),  0-23  -and  3  00; 
Goree,  0-00  and  4-06;  Sierra  Leone,  069  and  24  20;  Christiansborg, 
0-50  and  2-00;  Katunga,  Oil  and  4-76;  Gaboop,  9  35  and  0-48; 
Cape  Town,  028  and  3-83;  Durban,  5  00  and  170;  Pretoria,  6-07 
and  0-71;  and  Zanzibar,  2-02  and  2-35.  At  ZaUEibar  the  heaviest 
rains  occur  about  the  equinoxes,  the  mean  for  April  being  14-55 
inches,  and  for  October  6-80  inches. 

In  the  case  of  this,  as  the  other  continents,  the  explanation  of  tno 
different  amounts  is  to  be  had  in  the  seasonal  changes  of  wind.  In 
the  north  the  -winter  rains  are  to  a  very  large  extent  Ihe  accom- 
paniment of  the  Mediterranean  storms  of  that  season,  but  in  summer 
pressure  is  diminished  in  the  interior  and  increased  in  the  Atlantic 
to  the  north-v.-st,  resulting  in  strong  steady  northerly  winds,  wl.iu 
as  they  advance  iuto  hotter  regions  are  nnaccompanieiV  xi-ii  rain. 
The  heavy  summer  rains  from  Senerambia  to  the  Gold  Coast  aro 
due  to  the  strong  monsoonal  winds  which  set  in  towards  the 
interior,  thus  dra-wing  over  these  coasts  the  highly  saturated  air  of 
the  belt  of  calms  and  of  tlie  trades  immediately  to  the  north  and 
south  of  it.  Since  in  winter  the  belt  of  calms  is  removed  8  of 
latitude  farther  to  the  south,  and  the  temperature  of  the  interior  is 
greatly  reduced,  it  follows  that  the  winds  blowing  on  these  co^ta 
from  the  sea  are  drier  and  less  strong,  and  consequently  the  rainfall 
is  small.  At  Sierre  Leone  the  absolutely  driest  month  is  February, 
0-31  inch,  and  the  wettest  September,  29-15  inches.  On  the  other 
hand,  at  Gaboon  (lat.  0°  25'  N.)  the  dry  se.ison  is  from  June  to 
August,  when  the  belt  of  calms  is  farthest  to  the  north  ;  and  the 
absolutely  rainiest  about  the  equinoxes,  the  mean  of  March  being 
14-70  inches  and  October  19-52  inches.  At  Loanda  (l.-rt.  8  49  S.-) 
the  annual  amount  is  only  a  tenth  of  what  falls  at  Galioan,  and  it 


154 


METEOROLOGY 


[snow. 


falls  wholly  during  the  summer  months  of  the  southern  hemisphere. 
In  South  Africa  pressure  iji  January  is  lowest  in  the  inteiior, 
towards  which  prevailing  winds  from  the  ocean  blow,  and  as  these 
advance  into  regions  becoming  rapidly  hotter  the  rainfall  all  round 
the  coast  and  for  some  distance  inland  falls  to  the  annual  minimum. 
But  in  more  sti'ictJy  inland  districts  which  arc  at  a  considerable 
elevation  the  rainfall  reaches  the  maximum  at  the  same  season. 
Thus  the  amounts  in  inch£s  for  January  and  July  are — for  Pretoria, 
0-67  and  071;  Maritzburg,  4'23  and  0-2];  Graham's  Town,  2-89 
and  1-51;  Lower  Nel's  Poort,  1-33  and  0-49;  and  Aliwal  North, 
l'35and  O'OO.  In  the  winter  months  pressure  in  the  interior  is 
high,  and  the  rainfall  consequently  small.  Though  on  the  coast 
winds  from  the  arid  interior  frequently  prevail,  yet  the  storms  that 
sweep  enstward  past  South  Africa  precipitate  over  large  portions  of 
the  southern  slopes  of  this  part  of  the  globe  what  must  in  the  main 
be  regarded  as  a  generous  rainfall.  It  follows  that  the  climates  of 
these  important  colonies  range  themselves  into  two  perfectly  dis- 
tinct classes, — the  climates  of  the  inland  regions  and  the  Natal 
coast,  where  the  rains  occur  during  the  hottest  months,  and  the 
climates  of  the  other  regions,  where  the  annual  rains  occur  during 
the  coldest  months.  Little  is  accurately  known  regarding  the  rain- 
fall of  the  interior  of  Africa.  It  is  certain,  however,  that  it  is 
small,  or  nil,  over  the  extensive  region  of  the  Sahara,  and  that  it 
is  large  from  about  15°  N.  lat.  to  some  distance  south  of  the 
equator.  Probably  the  rainiest  part  of  Africa  is  the  region  extend- 
ing from  the  Victoria  Nyanza  northwards  to  and  including  the 
gathering  grounds  of  the  tivo  great  tributaries  of  the  Nile. 

Snow. — Snow  takes  the  place  of  rain  when  the  tempera- 
ture is  sufficiently  low  to  freeze  the  condensed  moisture  in 
the  atmosphere.  Snow  is  composed  of  crystals,  either  six- 
pointed  stars  or  hexagonal  plates,  which  exhibit  the 
greatest  variety  of  beautiful  forms,  one  thousand  dif- 
ferent kinds  having  been  observed.  These  numerous  forms 
Scoresby  reduced  to  five  principal  varieties  : — (1)  thin 
plates,  comprising  several  hundred  forms  of  the  most  ex- 
quisite beauty  ;  (2)  a  nucleus  or  plane  figure,  studded  with 
needle-shaped  crystals;  (3)  six-sided, more  rarely  three-sided, 
crystals  ;  (4)  pyramids  of  six  sides ;  (5)  prismatic  crystals, 
having  at  the  ends  and  midille  thin  plates  perpendicular 
to  theii'  length.  In  the  same  snowfall  the  forms  of  the 
crystals  are  generaUy  similar.  The  flakes  vary  from  0'07 
inch  to  an  inch  in  diameter,  the  smallest  occurring  with 
low  temperatures  and  the  largest  when  the  temperature 
approaches  32°.  If  the  temperature  is  a  little  higher,  the 
snow-flakes  are  partially  thawed  in  falling  tlirough.it,  and 
ffail  as  sleet.  The  white  colom'  of  snow  is  caused  by  the 
combination  of  the  difi'erent  prismatic  colom-s  of  the  minute 
snow-crystals.  The  density  of  snow  is  far  from  uniform ; 
it  L<i  generally  from  ten  to  twelve  times  Lighter  than  an 
equal  bulk  of  water,  but  varies  from  eight  to  sixteen 
times  lighter  than  water. 

The  Umit  of  .the  fall  of  snow  near  sea-level  coincides 
roughly  with  the  winter  isothermal  of  52°,  since  in  places 
'where  the  mean  winter  temperature -is  no  higher  than  52° 
that  of  the  air  falls  occasionally  to  32°  or  lower  during  the 
winter  months.  As  regards  Em-ope,  the  southern  limit  is 
about  Gil'raltar;  in  North  America  it  is  Savannah,  New 
Orleans,  tLe  mouth  of  the  Rio  Grande,  the  head  of  the  Gulf 
iof  California,  and  San  Francisco.  In  Europe,  north  of  lat. 
60°,  snow  falls  generally  on  an  average  of  from  80  to  110 
days  in  the  year.  At  Upsala  the  number  of  days  is  CI, 
at  Warsaw  45,  Aberdeen  42,  Oxford  IS,  Ostend  15,  Brus- 
sels 27,  Tarum  (in  the  south-west  of  Jutland)  12,  Copen- 
hagen 23,  Vienna  33,  Odessa  19,  Sebastopol  12,  Milan. 
11, ■  Trieste  G,  Saragossa  5,  Madrid  3,  and  Lisbon  1. 
In  Greenland  the  nUinber  of  days  exceeds  80,  and  this 
figure  is  nearly  reached  in  Newfoundland  and  the  north- 
east seaboard  of  Nova  Scotia.  At  Quebec  the  mean  days 
of  snow  are  66,  Halifax  64,  Winnipeg  04,  Detroit  34, 
Cape  Henry  13,  St  Louis  11,  mouth  of  the  Columbia 
River  7,  and  Charleston  2.  In  Russia  the  time  of  the 
year  when  snow  falls  most  frequently  is  December  and 
January,  except  in  the  south  of  the  empire,  where  February 
is  the  month  of  the  most  frequent  occurrence  of  snow. 
But  to  the  north  of  a  lino  drawn  from  the  entrance  o£_the 


Gulf  of  Finland  through  Warsaw,  Cracow,  Salzburg,  and 
Santiago  March  is  the  month  of  maximum  occurrence  in 
the  great  majority  of  instances  ;  while  to  the  south  of  this 
line  it  is  January  and  in  several  cases  December. 

The  largest  falls  of  snow  occur  in  the  Antarctic  regions, 
as  is  well  attested  by  the  magnificent  icebergs  of  solidified 
snow  which  break  off  all  round  from  the  lofty  walls  of  ice 
that  engirdle  the  Southern  Ocean.  Excepting  perhaps  in  the 
Dominion  of  Canada,  no  data  have  been  anywhere  collected 
from  which  even  a  rough  estimate  could  be  formed  as  to 
the  mean  annual  amount  of  snow  that  falls  in  different 
parts  of  the  globe. 

Snow-Line. — The  snow-line  marks  the  height  below 
which  all  the  snow  that  falls  annually  melts  during  summer. 
No  general  rule  can  be  stated  for  this  height  in  different 
climates  owing  to  the  many  causes  determining  it.  Thesa 
are  the  exposure  of  mountain  slope  to  the  sun  (and  hence, 
other  things  being  the  same,  it  is  higher  on  the  south  than 
on  the  north  sides  of  mountains),  exposure  to  the  rain- 
bringing  winds,  tlie  steepness  of  the  mountains,  and  the 
degree  of  dryness  of  the  air.  Hence  the  position  of  the 
snow-line  can  be  known  by  observation  only.  It  falls  only, 
little  on  either  side  of  the  equator  to  lat.  20° ;  from  lat.' 
20°  to  70°  it  falls  equably,  but  from  lat.  70°  to  78°  mucW 
more  rapidly.  To  this  general  rule  there  are  many  excep- 
tions. It  IS  4000  feet  higher  on  the  north  than  the  soutt 
side  of  the  Himalayas,  owing  to  the  larger  snowfall  on  the 
south,  and  the  greater  dryness  of  the  climate  of  the  north 
side,  and  therefore  the  greater  evaporation  from  the  snow 
there.  It  is  higher  in  the  interior  of  continents  than  near 
the  coasts,  because  the  precipitation  is  less  and  summer  heat 
greater.  In  the  Caucasus  it  is  11,063  feet  high,  but  ordy 
8950  in  the  Pyrenees.  In  South  America  it  rises  from  the 
equator  to  lat.  18°,  and  more  on  the  west  than  on  the  east 
slopes  of  the  Cordilleras,  owing  to  the  large  precipitation  or. 
the  east  and  small  precipitation  and  arid  climate  of  the  west 
side  of  that  chain  of  mountains.  It  is  as  high  in  lat.  33' 
S.  as  in  19°  N.,  but  south  of  that  latitude  it  rapidly  sinks 
owing  to  the  heavy  rains  brought  by  the  moist  N.W. 
winds  of  these  regions.  In  the  south  of  Chili  it  is  3000 
feet  lower  than  in  the  same  latitudes  in  Europe,  and  6000 
feet  lower  than  in  the  extremely  arid  climates  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains. 

Storms. — If  weather  charts  representing  a  large  part  of 
the  northern  hemisphere  be  examined,  two  distinct  systems 
of  pressure  are  seen  which  change  their  forms  and  positions 
on  the  earth's  surface  from  day  to  day.  The  one  set  are 
systems  of  low  pressure  marked  off  by  concentric  isobars 
enclosing  pressures  successively  lower  till  the  centre  is 
approached ;  and  the  other  systems  of.  high  pressure 
marked  oS  by  concentric  isobars  enclosing  pressures  becom- 
ing successively  higher  towards  the  centre.  The  former  of 
these  are  called  cyclones,  and  the  latter  anticyclones.  These 
areas  of  low  pressure  are  the  distinguisliing  'characteristic^ 
of  the  hurricanes  and  typhoons  of  tropical  regions,  and  of 
the  ordinary  storms  of  lugher  latitudes,  and  they  may  all 
be  conveniently  grouped  under  the  general  name  of  cyclones. 
Fig.  19  shows  a  storm  which  was  passing  across  north- 
western Europe  on  the  morning  of  November  2,  1863,  and 
it  may  be  taken  as  fairly  representing  the  general  features 
of  cyclones.  In  the  figure  the  arrows  fly  with  the  wind, 
and  tlie  force  of  the  wind  is  indicated  by  the  number  of 
feathers  on  the  arrows. 

It  will  bo  seen  that  the  winds  indicate,  not  a  circular 
movement  round  the  centre  of  lowest  pressure,  but  eC 
vorticose  motion  inwards  upon  that  centre,  the  motion 
being  opposite  to  that  of  watch-hands.  In  other  word.>>, 
the  wind  follows  Buys  Ballot's  law,  already  explained. 
The  winds  are  strongest  where  the  isobars  are  closest 
together  ;  or  they  are  generally  proportioned  to  the  "  baro- 


STORMS.] 


METEOROLOGY 


155 


memo  gradient," — a  term  introduced  by  Stevenson  in 
1867.  Cyclones  have  diameters  seldom  less  than  600,  and 
they  occasionally  exceed  3000  miles;  the  cyclone  of  fig.  19 
had  a  diameter  of  about  1-200  miles.     The  cyclones  of 

the    Mediterranean    are 

usually  of  smaller  dimen- 
sions than  those  of  north- 
western Europe  and 
America.  The  rates  at 
which  cyclones  advance 
over  the  earth's  surface 
vary  greatly,  the  average 
in  America  being  24 
miles  an  hour,  in  the 
Atlantic  20  miles,  and 
In  Europe  26  miles.  A 
rate  as  high  as  70  miles 
an  hour  has  occurred  in 
the  British  Islands ; 
sometimes  they  remain 
stationary,  and  more 
rarely  their  course  is 
for  a  time  retrograde. 
The     temperature     and  ^^'     '' 

humidity  increase  at  those  places  towards  and  over  which 
the  front  part  of  the  storm  is  advancing,  and  fall  at  those 
places  over  which  the  front  part  of  tlie  storm  has  already 
passed.  In  other  words,  the  temperature  and  humidity 
rise  as  pressure  falls  and  fall  as  pressure  rises.  This  is 
the  important  climatic  significance  of  cyclones.  Thus  a 
succession  of  low  pressures  passing  eastwards  in  courses 
lying  to  northward  of  the  British  Islands  are  the  essential 
ooaditioua  of  open  winters ;  whereas,  if  the  cyclones  follow 
courses  lying  to  southward,  the  winters  are  severe.  In  a 
cyclone  the  broadest  feature  of  weather  is  an  area  of  rain 
about  or  rather  somewhat  in  front  of  the  centre,  sur- 
rounded by  a  ring  of  cloud,  outside  which  the  sky  is  clear. 
The  precise  form .  and  position  of  these  areas  have  been 
shown  by  Abercrombie  to  vary  ^vith  the  type  of  pres- 
sure distribution,  with  the  intensity  of  the  cyclone,  and 
ivith  the  rate  of  its  progress,  and  they  are  also  influenced 
by  local,  diurnal,  and  seasonal  variations. 

The  chief  point  of  difference  between  Ajnerican  and 
European  storms  is  essentially  the  result  of  the  mean 
winter  pressures  to  the  west  and  north-west  of  their  respec- 
tive storm-tracks.  Owing  to  the  high  ^vinter  pressure  m 
the  interior  of  America,  the  barometer  rises  in  the  wake  of 
:he  storms  of  the  United  States  more  rapidly,  the  wind 
reers  round  more  quickly  and  more  uniformly  to  N.W., 
N.N.W.,  and  N.  and  keeps  longer  in  these  directions, 
ind  the  temperature  and  humidity  fall  to  a  greater 
degree,  than  happens  in  Europe.  In  the  New  England 
States  and  Canada  the  easterly  winds  of  the  storms, 
.'oming  as  they  do  from  the  Atlantic,  are  disagreeably 
:old,  damp,  and  misty  in  a  degree  and  with  a  frequency 
iiuch  greater  than  occurs  with  the  same  winds  in  the 
-British  Islands. 

The  chief  points  of  difference  between  the  hurricanes  and 
typhoons  of  the  tropics  and  the  cyclones  of  higher  latitudes 
are  these : — tropical  cyclones  are  of  smaller  dimensions, 
show  steeper  barometric  gradients  and  therefore  stronger 
winds,  and  advance  at  a  slower  rate  over  the  earth's 
surface.  Another  point  of  difference  is  that  a  large  number 
of  the  hurricanes  of  the  West  Indies  and  the  typhoons  of 
eastern  Asia  first  pursue  a  westerly  course,  which  gradually 
becomes  north-westerly,  and  on  arriving  at  about  lat.  30° 
they  recurve  and  thereafter  pursue  a  course  to  north-east- 
wards. The  tropical  cyclones  of  the  Indian  Ocean  south 
of"the  equator  also  first  pursue  a  westerly  course,  which 
gradually  changes  to  south-west,  and  often  on  arriving  about 


lat.  30°  recurve  to  the  south-east.  Many  of  the  cyclones  of 
India  have  their  origin  to  westv>-ards  of  the  Nicobar  Islands,' 
pursue  a  course  to  north-westward,  and  die  out  in  the 
valley  of  the  Ganges ;  and,  similarly,  a  considerable  number 
of  the  cyclones  of  the  West  Indies  pursue  a  westerly  course 
through  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  and  several  die  out  in  the  States. 

The  most  dreadful  attendant  on  tropical  cyclones  is 
the  storm-wave,  caused  by  the  in-bl^owing  winds  and  the 
low  pressure  of  the  centre  of  the  storm.  When  this  wave 
is  unusually  high  and  is  hurled  forward  on  a  low-lying 
coast  at  high  water  it  becomes  one  of  the  most  destructive 
agents  known.  The  Bakarganj  cyclone  of  October  31, 
1876,  was  accompanied  by  a  wave  which  flooded  the  low 
grounds  to  the  east  of  the  delta  of  the  Ganges  to  heights 
varying  from  10  to  45  feet,  by  which  more  than  100,000 
human  beings  perished. 

Trachi  of  Cyclones  of  North  America,  Atlantic,  c/ttd 
Europe. — In  the  Physical  Atlas  of  tlie  Atlantic  Ocean,  issued 
under  the  direction  of  Dr  Neumayer  of  the  Deutsche 
Soewarte,  plate  28  shows  by  shadings  the  mean  positions  of 
the  centres  of  cyclones  and  by  lines  their  mean  tracks. 
The  follo\ving  are  the  regions  where  the  lowest  barometer 
of  storms  has  been  most  frequently  found: — the  region; 
to  west-south-west  of  the  lakes  of  the  United  States ;  the 
Gulf  of  St  Lawrence ;  mid- Atlantic  about  lat.  35°  long.  52° ; 
to  the  south-west  of  Greenland;  to  the  south-west  of  Iceland, 
which  is  by  far  the  most  important  of  the  whole ;  to  the 
south-west  of  the  Lofoten  Isles;  the  region  embracing 
Denmark,  the  south  of  Scandinavia,  and  Finland  :  and,  as 
secondary  centres  of  frequency,  the  south  of  the  British 
Islands,  Corsica  and  part  of  Italy  adjoining,  and  the  north- 
east of  the  Adriatic.  The  great  importance  of  these  centres,' 
where  the  lowest  barometers  are  most  frequently  found, 
consists  in  the  indication  they  give  of  the  precise  regions 
either  where  many  storms  originate  or  where  they  are 
either  retarded  or  arrested  in  their  course.  As  regards  the 
origin  of  storms,  the  centre  west  of  the  Mississippi  is  the 
region  where  most  of  the  United  States  storms  originate, 
the  centre  in  "the  Gulf  of  St  Lawrence  is  where  many  of  the 
great  Atlantic  storms  have  their  origin,  and  the  centres  in 
mid-Atlantic  and  to  the  south-west  of  Iceland  are  the 
regions  where  the  storms  of  north-western  Europe  chiefly 
originate.  The  centres  on  the  south-west  of  Greenland, 
the  Lofoten  Isles,  Denmark,  and  the  south  of  the  British 
Islands,  all  appear  to  suggest  that  storms  are  retarded  in 
their  onward  courses  on  coming  up  against  large  masses  of 
land, — which  may,  in  part  at  least,  be  occasioned  by  the 
heavy  rainfalls  that  mark  these  parts  of  their  courses. 

Of  all  storm  tracks  the  most  frequently  taken  is  that  by 
the  storms  of  the  United  States,  which  pursue  an  easterly 
course  through  the  lakes  to  the  Gulf  of  St  Lawrence.  A 
considerable  number  of  storms  follow  a  course  from  Nova 
Scotia  to  Davis  Straits ;  but  the  larger  number  take  a 
north-easterly  course  through  the  Atlantic  towards  Iceland 
and  thence  past  the  north  of  Norway.  Among  the  less 
frequent  but  important  tracks  are  these  : — from  near  Newi 
Orleans  along  the  east  coast  of  the  States  towards  Nova 
Scotia ;  from  mid-Atlantic  to  south  of  Ireland  and  thence 
through  France  to  the  north  of  the  Mediterranean;  and 
from  the  Atlantic  about  kt.  42°  long.  40°  in  a  north- 
easterly course  quite  outside  but  at  no  great  distance  from 
the  British  Islands,  and  thence  towards  the  North  Cape.' 
Of  the  tracks  more  immediately  affecting  British  weather 
are  one  from  Iceland  in  a  south-easterly  direction  through 
the  North  Sea  and  Germany,  and  four  tracks  which  start 
from  near  Scilly: — (1)  to  the  south-east  as  already  described; 
(2)  eastward  through  the  north  of  Germany  ;  (3)  north-east 
to  Christiania ;  and  (4)  north  through  Ireland  and  the 
Hebrides.  These  are  the  storm  tracks  which  chiefly  give, 
the  United  Kingdom  its  easterly  and  northerly  winds. , 


156 


METEOROLOGY 


The  Inclination  of  Winds  to  ilie  Isobars. — Tho  vorticose 
motion  of  the  wi-.id  in  a  cyclone  towards  and  in  upon  the 
ceutre  has  been  already  pointed  out.  One  of  the  more 
important  practical  problems  of  meteorology  is  the  dtter- 
mina'ion  of  the  angle  of  inclination  of  the  ■ninds  to  the 
isobars  in  the  different  segments  of  the  cyclone,  not  only 
from  the  application  of  the  results  of  the  inquiry  to  the 
theory  of  storms  but  also  to  practical  navigation.  The  first 
real  contribution  to  the  subject,  based  on  accurate  measure- 
ments, was  made  by  Clement  Ley  in  1873.'  From  the 
observations  made  at  fifteen  places  in  north-west  Europe 
examined  by  him.  he  showed  that  the  winds  incline  from 
iiistricts  of  higher  towards  those  of  lower  pressure  at  a 
mean  angle  of  20°  01';  that  the  incliuatiou  is  much  greater 
at  inland  than  at  well-exposed  stations  on  the  coast,  the 
respective  angles  being  28°  53'  and  12°  49' ;  and  that  the 
greatest  inclinations  are  with  S.E.  winds.  Then  follow 
S.W.,  N.E.,  and  N.W.  winds,  the  last  showing  the  least 
inclination.  Whipple  has  recently  compared  the  winds 
at  Kew  with  the  barometric  gradients  for  the  five  years 
ending  1879,  with  the  result  that  the  greatest  inclination 
lis  63°  with  S.E.  winds,  the  least  35°  with  N.E.  winds,  and 
the  mean  for  aU  winds  52°. 

As  regards  the  open  sea,  Captain  Toynbee  has  shown, 
(from  a  careful  investigation  of  the  gi-eat  Atlantic  storm  of 
I  August  24,  1873,  that  the  mean  angle  of  inclination 
calculated  from  one  hundred  and  eight  observations  was 
29°,  the  mean  at  the  three  selected  epochs  examined 
'varying  from  25°  to  31°. 

Barometric  Gradient  and  Velocity  of  the  Wind. — In 
.inquiring  into  the  relation  of  the  velocity  of  the  wind  to 
the  barometric  gradient,  it  is  necessary  to  have  some 
definite  information  as  to  the  increase  of  the  velocity  with 
'height  above  the"  ground.  Stevenson  recently  made 
observations  on  this  point  on  winds  varying  from  2  to  44 
'miles  an  hour  from  the  sm-face  up  to  a  height  of  50  feet, 
from  which  he  has  drawn  the  following  conclusions  : — (1) 
the  spaces  passed  over  in  the  same  time  by  the  wind 
increase  with  height  above  the  ground ;  (2)  the  curves 
traced  out  by  these  variations  of  velocity  from  13  to  50 
ieet  high  coincide  most  nearly  with  parabolas   (fig.  20) 


/»// 
iW 


having  their  vertices  in  a  horizontal  lino  72  feet  below  the 
surface  ;  (3)  between  15  feet  and  the  ground  there  is  great 
disturbance  of  the  currents,  so  that  the  symmetry  of  the 
curves  is  destroyed ;  (4)  the  parameters  of  these  parabolas 
increase  directly  in  tho  ratio  of  the  squares  of  the  velocities 
of  tho  different  gales.     If  x  be  the  velocity  of  the  wind 


'  Journal  Scottish  Meteorological  Sociel;/,  voL  iv.  p.  63. 


ivrara  veloctit. 

at  height  II  above  the  ground,  fho  parameter  of  tho 
corresponding  pai-abola  is  ^-/(n  +  '!'2j :  and  an  x  varies  th» 
parameter  will  vary  as  x-  or  as  the  square  of  the  velocity 
of  the  gale.  It  follows  that,  to  render  wind  observations 
comparable,  it  is  necessary  that  anemometers  be  placed  at 
one  uniform  height  above  the  ground,  and  that  standard 
height  not  lower  than  15  feet  above  the  surface.  It  is 
very  desirable  that  tho  inquiry  were  prosecuted  Uj)  It;  a 
height  of  100  feet ;  and  it  is  of  the  utmost  importance  that 
the  variation  in  the  diurnal  velocity  be  at  the  same  lime 
determined  at  different  heights  from  15  feet  upwards. 

Stevenson  olso  made  wind  observations  on  the  Caltoa 
Hill,  Ai-thui's  Seat,  and  the  Pentland  Hills,  in  the  vicinity 
of  Edinburgh,  up  to  a  height  of  1600  feet  above  sea-leveL 
It  is  from  observations  made  at  stations  on  knolLs  and 
peaks  at  different  heights  above  the  sea,  and  at  different 
heights  above  the  surfaces  of  their  summits,  that  the 
problem  of  the  variation  of  the  wind's  velocity  at  different 
heights  with  the  same  barometric  gradient  can  bo  ascer- 
tained. In  carrying  the  inquiry  to  considerable  heights,' 
the  results  cease  to  be  comparable  with  those  obtained 
at  lower  levels,  unless  in  those  cases  where  neighbouring 
heights  are  available  for  data  from  which  the  barometric 
gradient  at  the  observed  height  can  be  calcidated.  The 
results  of  observations  as  to  the  velocity  of  atmospheric 
currents  at  very  great  elevations  in  the  atmosphere  deduced 
from  the  apparent  movements  of  the  higher  clouds  are 
altogether  incomparable  with  the  winds  near  the  surface  of 
the  earth,  for  these  among  other  reasons  : — the  heights  of 
the  clouds  can  be  at  best  but  imperfectly  ascertained;  the 
motion  of  the  clouds,  "particularly  the  higher  clouds,  may 
be  only  apparent,  it  being  sometimes  difficult  to  distinguish 
between  the  formation  and  dissolution  of  clouds  and  their 
motion  ;  and  above  all,  since  the  higher  clouds  are  usually^ 
the  accompaniments  of  the  greater  weather  changes,  their 
movements  are  the  result  of  barometric  gradients  towards 
a  knowledge  of  which  we  are  absolutely  powerless  to  take 
a  single  step. 

As  regards  surface  winds,  Clement  Ley  in  1881,  and 
Whipple  more  recently  and  with  greater  fulness,  have 
calculated  the  mean  wind  velocities  for  twelve  gradients, — ■, 
the  gradients  being  derived  from  the  daily  weather  charts 
of  the  Meteorological  Office  for  the  five  years  1875  to  1879 
at  8  A.M.,  and  the  corresponding  wind  data  being  obtained 
from  the  hourly  readings  of  the  Kew  anemograph.  Thej 
barometric  gradient  is  for  15  nautical  miles,  and  tho 
following  are  the  velocities  for  the  twelve  gradients  on  the 
mean  of  the  year: — 


Gradient. 

Velocity. 

Gradient. 

Velocit 

0  002 

6-0 

0  017 

15-0 

0  005 

7  0 

0-020 

JG-5 

0  007 

7-5 

0-022 

19-1 

0010 

9-2 

0-025 

22  0 

0-012 

11-6 

0-027 

22-0 

0-015 

12-6 

0-030 

25-5 

The  influence  of  season  is  very  strongly  marked.  The 
velocities  for  the  same  gradients  in  order  are — October  to 
December,  125  miles;  July  to  September,  12-6  miles; 
January  to  ilarch,  148  miles;  and  April  to  June,  17-2 
miles.  From  those  observations  of  Whipple  it  follows 
that  during  the  six  months  -when  the  temperature  is  falling 
the  velocity  for  the  same  gradients  is  least,  while  the  velocity 
is  greatest  during  the  six  months  when  tho  temjierature  is 
rising,  and  absolutely  greatest  during  tho  three  months 
ending  Juno,  when  tho  greater  part  of  the  annual  increase 
of  temperature  occurs.  It  is  evident  that  the  observed 
increase  in  the  velocity  of  tho  wind  for  the  same  gradients 
is  to  be  referred  to  tho  same  cause  that  brings  abort  the 
diurnal  increase  in  tho  wind's  velocity,  viz.,  the  wind 
blowing  over  a  warmer  surface  than  itself. 


WEATHER   ?.tA?3.] 


METEOROLOGY 


157 


Whipple  has  nlso  sorted  the  -winds  according  to  the 
eight  points  of  the  compass,  with  results  of  the  greatest 
inUrest.  If  N.W.,  N.,  N.E.,  and  E.  winds  be  grouped 
together  as  polar,  and  S.E.,.  S.,  S.W.,  and  W.  winds  as 
equatorial  winds,  the  mean  hourly  velocity  of  the  polar 
winds,  for  the  same  gradients,  is  1-1  miles  in  excess  of  the 
equatorial  winds.  Now,  since  polar  winds  pass  into  lower 
latitudes,  the  surface  of  the  earth  over  which  they  blow 
is  warmer,  whereas  the  surface  is  colder  than  the  equa- 
torial winds  which  blow  over  it.  It  follows  that  the 
increased  velocity  of  polar  winds  is  referable  to  the  same 
conditions  which  result  in  the  diurnal  increase  in  the 
•wind's  velocity  and  the  greater  velocity  for  the  same 
gradients  of  winds  when  the  annual  temperature  is  rising, 
since  in  all  these  cases  the  winds  blow  over  a  surface  of 
a  higher  temperature  than  their  own. 

It  is  evident  from  these  considerations  that  for  the 
development  of  the  law  of  the  relation  of  the  wind's 
velocity  to  the  barometric  gradient  ^^•ith  an  exactness 
sufficient  to  warrant  us  in  expressing  that  relation  in  a 
general  mathematical  formula  much  yet  remains  to  be  done. 
In  truth,  as  regards  the  various  formulae  submitted  by 
Ferrel,  Mohn,  Hann,  Everett,  and  others,  we  have  no 
choice  but  to  allow  the  justness  of  Strachan's  criticism 
(Modem  Meteorohf/y,  p.  98)  that  the  theoretical  values 
furnished  by  the  formulae  do  not  accord  with  the  actual 
values,  and  that  therefore  a  satisfactory  formula  is  yet  to 
be  found.  Ere  such  a  formula  need  be  looked  for,  the 
conditions  must  be  fulfilled  for  the  preliminary  work  of  sup- 
plying the  observational  data  required.  The  "Challenger" 
observations  prove  that,  nith  gradients  substantially  the 
game,  the  velocity  of  the  wind  is  greater  on  the  open  sea 
than  near  land ;  and  we  have  seen  that  the  velocity  varies 
with  the  hour  of  the  day,  and  generally  is  increased  as  the 
temperature  of  the  surface  rises  above  that  of  the  air  blow- 
ing over  it,  and  diminished  as  the  temperature  of  the  surface 
falls  below  that  of  the  air.  It  is  evident  that  observations 
on  the  open  sea  wUl  afford  data  for  the  simplest  solution  of 
the  problem ;  but  on  land  the  diurnal,  seasonal,  and  non- 
periodic  changes  of  temperature  greatly  complicate  the 
problem,  and  render  necessary  for  its  solution  observations 
specially  designed  for  the  purpose.  It  is  not  easy  to  see 
how  these  can  be  obtained  but  by  carrying  out  the  plan  pro- 
posed in  1875  by  Stevenson  of  establishing  strings  of  well- 
equipjied  meteorological  stations  planted  sufficiently  close 
that  the  barometric  gradients  may  be  determined  \\-ithin  the 
limits  of  accuracy  required.  Observations  made  twelve 
times  daily  for  a  year,  at  stations  so  arranged,  would 
supply  the  observational  data  for  the  solution  of  this  funda- 
mental problem  in  meteorology.  Till  some  such  proposal 
be  carried  out,  the  problem  remains  unsolved,  for  barometric 
gradients  lased  on  the  \ridely  separated  existing  stations 
are  too  uncertain  and  rough  and  the  wind  observations 
«re  wanting  in  that  comparability  which  alone  can  satfef^ 
the  inquiry. 

Weather  and  VTialher  Maps. — Weather  is  the  state  of 
the  air  at  any  time  as  respects  heat,  moisture,  Txind,  rain, 
cloud,  and  electricity;  and  a  change  of  weather  implies  a 
change  in  one  or  more  of  these  conditions.  Of  these 
changes  the  most  important  as  regards  human  interests 
are  those  which  refer  to  temperature,  wind,  and  rain;  sid, 
as  these  are  intimately  bound  up  ^ith  the  distribution  of 
atmospheric  pressure,  the  latter  truly  furnishes  the  key  to 
weather  changes. 

These  rrl.itions  arc  well  shown  by  the  Intfmationnl  Jfontlily 
Weatlicr  JLips  is.suoa  liy  the  UniteJ  States  Signa]  Service.  Of  these 
lh.it  for  Decciiibcr  1878  is  a  strikiiifr  example.  This  month  nns 
ehnncterizcd  over  the  {jlobe  by  imusually  abnormal  weatlicr.  A 
Knc  drawn  from  Texas  to  NewfounJl.anU,  across  the  Atlantic,  the 
.Aocth  of  France,  ami  Ocrniany,  thence  round  to  sonth-east,  through 
"tUi  Black  Sea,  the  Cauca:>U8,  luJia,  th«  East  ludia  Islands,  and 


Anstnlia  to  the  South  Island  of  New  Zealand,  passes  through  i 
broad  and  extended  region  where  pressure  was  throughout  con- 
siderably below  the  mean  of  December,  and  this  low  pressuro 
was  still  further  deepened  in  various  regions  along  the  line.  An- 
other line  pa-ssing  from  Australia,  through  the  Philippine  Islands, 
Japan,  tianchuria,  Behring's  Strait,  and  Alaska,  also  marks  out 
an  extensive  region  \yhere  pressure  was  uninterruptedly  below  the 
mean. 

On  the  other  hand^pressure  was  above  the  average,  and  generally 
largely  so,  over  the  United  States  to  west  of  longitude  90°,  over 
Greenland,  Iceland,  the  Faroes,  Shetland,  and  a  Targe  portion  of 
the  Old  Continent  bounded  by  a  line  drawn  from  Lapland  round 
by  Lake  Balkhash,  Canton,  Peking,  to  the  upper  reaches  of  the 
Lena.  Another  area  of  high  pressure  extended  from  Syria,  through 
f;gypt  and  East  Africa,  to  the  Cape  ;  and  part  of  n  third  area  of 
high  pressure  appeai-ed  in  the  North  Island  of  New  Zealand.  As 
regards  North  America,  the  greatest  excess  of  pressure,  0'196  inch 
above  the  mean,  occurred  in  the  Columbia  Valley,  from  which  it 
gradually  fell  on  proceeding  eastward  to  a  defect  from  the  averago 
of  0'146  iuch  near  Lake  Champlain  and  to  northward,  rising  again 
to  near  tlio  mean  on  the  north  of  Nova  Scotia.  To  the  north  and 
north-east  exceedingly  high  pressures  for  these  regions  and  the 
season  prevailed,  being  0'635  iuch  above  the  mean  in  Iceland, 
0  •.500  in  the  south  of  Greenland,  and  at  the  three  stations  in  "West 
Greenland,  proceeding  northward,  0"415,  0^402,  and  0-346  inch. 

AVest  Greenland  being  thus  on  the  west  side  of  the  region  of 
high  pressure  which  occupied  the  noi-thern  part  of  the  Atlantic, 
and  on  the  north-east  side  of  the  area  of  low  pressure  in  the  States 
and  Canada,  strong  south  winds  set  in  over  that  co.-ist,  and  the 
temperature  at  the  four  Creenl.ind  stations,  proceeding  from  south 
to  north,  rose  to  1°-1,  8°-8,  12°-1,  and  li°i  above  the  means.  As 
the  centre  of  lowest  pressiire  was  in  the  valley  of  the  St  Laivrence 
about  Jlontreal,  strong  northerly  and  westerly  winds  predo^iinated 
to  westward  and  southward,  where  consequently  temperature  was 
below  the  average,  the  deficiency  at  Chicago  and  St  Louis  being 
9'*5;  and,  winds  being  easterly  ami  northerly  in  California,  the  tem- 
perature tliere  was  also  under  the  mean.  On  the  other  hand,  in  the 
New  England  Spates,  the  greater  part  of  the  Dominion  of  Canada,  and 
"West  Greenland  tcmiierature  was  above  the  averago.  Pressure  was 
much  hi;;hcr  at  St  Slichael's,  Alaska,  than  to  south-westward  at  St 
Paul's,  Behring's  Strait,  and  hence,  while  temperature  at  St  Paul's 
w-as  2°*9  below  the  normal,  it  was  12" -0  above  it  at  St  Slichael's, 
where  strongly  southerly  winds  ruled.  AVith  these  strong  contrasts 
of  pressuiv,  America  presented  contrasts  at  least  as  striking  in  the 
distribution  of  the  temperature.  Along  the  south  of  Lake  Alichigan 
the  November  temperature  was  13'^7  above  the  normal,  whilst  the 
December  temperature  was  9*-5  below  it,  the  difference  there  • 
between  the  two  consecutive  months  being  thus  23''2. 

As  regards  Europe,  Iceland  was  on  the  east  side  of  the  patch  of 
high  pressure  which  overspread  the  north  of  the  Atlantic,  and  hence 
northerly  winds  prevailed  there  and  temperature  fell  7°^2  beloT?the 
mean,  presenting  thus  a  marked  contrast  to  the  high  tcmperatut» 
of  West  Greenland  at  the  time.  In  Europe,  the  area  of  low-est 
pressure  occupied  the  southern  shores  of  the  North  Sea,  extending 
thence,  though  in  a  less  pronounced  form,  to  south-eastward. 
Hence  over  the  whole  of  western  Europe  winds  were  N  K.,  N.,  and 
in  the  south-west  of  Europe  W. ;  and  hence  everyw  ha-e  from  the 
North  Cape  to  the  north  of  Italy  temperature  was  below  the 
normal,  in  some  places  greatly  so,  the  deficiency  being  10""4  in 
the  south  of  Norway  and  12°-2  in  the  south  of  Scotland.  On  the 
other  hand,  on  the  east  side  of  this  area  of  low  pressure  winds  were 
southerly  and  temperature  consequently  high.  In  soine  localities 
in  Russia  the  excess  above  the  mean  was  15"^0,  and  over  a  large 
proportion  of  European  Russia  the  excess  was  not  less  than  9*^0. 
This  remon  of  high  temperature  extended  e.-istward  into  Siberia  a.^ 
far  as  the  Irtish,  being  coterminous  with  tlie  western  half  of  the 
anticyclonic  region  of  high  pressure  which  overspread  central 
Siberia.  But  over  the  eastern  portion  of  the  anticyclone  northerly 
winds  prevailed,  witJi  the  inevitable  accompaniment  of  low  tem- 
peratures over  the  whole  of  Eastern  Asia,  the  deficiency  at  Ner- 
tchinsk  on  the  upper  Amur  being  6°^8.  Here  again,  just  as  in 
America,  Greenland,  and  Iceland,  places  w-ith  atmospheric  pressure 
enually  high  presented  the  strongest  contrasts  ot  ftmperature. 
TnusatBogoslovsk,  on  the  Ural  Mountains,  pressure  was  0211  inch 
and  at  Nertcliinsk  0154  inch  above  the  nonnals,  but  Bogoslovsk 
on  the  west  side  of  the  high  pressure  area  had  a  temperature  15°'0 
above,  whilst  at  Nerteliin>k  it  was  6°'$  below  the  average. 

At  this  time  of  the  year  the  mean  pressure  falls  to  the  minimnm 
in  Australia,  but  during  December  1878  the  usually  low  pressure 
was  still  furtlicr  diminished.  Pressure  at  this  sc.ison  also  falls  to 
the  annual  minimum  in  the  North  Pacific  and  North  Atlantic, 
and  it  has  been  seen  tliat  the  low  pressure  of  these  regions  was 
likewise  still  further  diminished.  But  in  the  case  of  the  Atlantic 
it  was  attended  irilh  a  most  important  difference.  The  centre  of 
lowest  pressure,  usually  loc.itcd  to  the  south-west  of  Iceland,  was 
removed  some  hundreils  of  miles  to  the  south-east,  and  an  unwonted 
developmeat  of  extraordinarily  high  pressure  appeared  to  the  DOrtli* 


158 


M  E  T  E  O  K  O  L  O'G  Y 


[>vj;athee  fokecasts. 


iwarJ,  overspreading  the  extensWe  region  of  Baffin's  Bay,  Greenland, 
Iceland,  Faroes,  and  Shetland.  It  was  to  this  region  of  high  pres- 
sure, particularly  in  its  relations  to  the  low-pressuro  region  to  the 
south-east  of  it,  that  the  extreme  severity  of  the  weather  in  the 
.British  Islands  at  the  time  was  due.  Now  this  high-pressure 
region  was  intimately  connected  ftith,  and  douhtless  occasioned 
directly  by,  upper  atmospheric  currents  from  the  widely  extended 
region  of  low  pressure  to  southward,  with  its  large  centres  of  still 
lower  pressure  iu  the  North  Sea,  mid- Allan  tic,  and  United  States, 
where  pressures  wel-e  respectively  0-307,  0-322,  and  0-146  inch  under 
the  normals.  Thus,  with  the  single  exception  of  the  high-pressure 
area  about  Greenland,  the  meteorological  peculiarities  which  render 
December  1878  so  memorable  over  nearly  the  whole  globe  arose  out 
of  a  distribution  of  the  earth's  atmosphere  essentially  the  same 
that  obtains  at  that  time  of  tlie  year,  but  the  usu.il  irregularities 
in  the  distxibution  of  the  pressure  appeared  in  more  pronounced 
characters. 

Taking  the  all-important  bearings  of  these  areas  of  high 
and  low  pressure  on  -weather  and  climatelnto  consideration, 
along  with  the  abnormal  concentration  of  aqueous  rapour 
over  extensive  regions  -which  they  imply,  it  is  evident  that, 
-when  the  meteorologist  will  be  in  a  position  to  forecast,  on 
scientific  grounds,  the  weather  of  the  coming  season  for 
the  British  Islands,  it  is  to  the  Atlantic  he  -will  require  to 
look  for  the  data  on  which  the  forecast  is  based. 

These  questions,  which  the  International  Weather  Maps 
of  the  United  States  enable  us  to  discuss,  are  of  the  first 
importance  in  meteorology,  whether  we  consider  the  ampli- 
jtude  of  the  atmospheric  changes  they  disclose  (these  being 
often  so  vast  as  to  embrace  four  continents  at  one  time, 
besides  being  profoundly  interesting  from  their  direct 
bearings  on  the  food  supplies  and  commercial  intercourse 
of  nations)  or  regard  the  larger  problems  they  present, 
-with  hints  towards  their  solution,  which  underlie  physical 
geography,  climatology,  and  other  branches  of  atmospheric 
physics.  The  discussion  -presents'  the  great  atmospheric 
changes  as  influenced  by  oceans  and  continents,  including 
the  subordinate  but  important  parts  played  by  mountain 
ranges,  extensive  plateaus,  and  physically  well-defined 
river  basins  in  determining  the  development,  course,  and 
•  termination  of  these  changes. 

Weather  Forecasts  and  Sionn  Warnings. — It  is  in  tropical 
and  subtropical  countries  that  an  isolated  observer  may, 
with  a  close  approximation  to  certainty,  predict  the 
approach  of  gales  and  hurricanes.  In  these  regions  atmo- 
spheric pressure  and  the  other  meteorological  conditions 
are  so  constant  from  day  to  day  that  any  deviation,  even 
a  slight  one,  from  the  average  of  the  hour  and  season  in 
respect  of  pressure,  the  direction  and  strength  of  the  -wind, 
^and  the  direction  and  amount  of  cloud,  implies  the  presence 
of  a  storm  at  no  great  distance.  Dr  Meldrum  has  practically 
iworked  out  this  problem  at  Mauritius  with  great  success. 
'At  the  Royal  Alfred  Observatory  there  the  mean  pressure 
at  sea-level  in  January  at  9  a.m.  is  29'966  inches,  from 
Iwhich  it  falls  to  29-904  inches  at  4  p.m.,  then  rises  to 
i29-980  inches  at  10  p.m.,  and  again  falls  to  29-927  at  4 
'a.M:  The  mean  direction  of  the  wind  and  the  diurnal  varia- 
tion, both  as  regards  direction  and  force,  have  been  stated 
(p.  125).  Suppose  then  that  the  barometer  is  observed 
to  fall  after  9  a. si.  more  rapidly  than  is  due  to  the  usual 
daily  barometric  tide,  that  in  the  afternoon  it  does  not 
indicate  the  second  maximum  or  that  it  continues  to  fall 
instead  of  rising, — or  suppose,  in  short,  any  deviation  from 
the  mean  daily  march, — then  it  is  certain  that  there  is 
somewhere  an  atmospherical  disturbance  near  enough  to 
Mauritius  to  influence-  the  pressure.  The  direction  in 
which  the  disturbance  is  from  Mauritius  is  readily  known 
from  the  ■wind,  and  the  distance  of  the  storm  closely 
approximated  to  by  noting  the  rate  and  amotint  of  the  fall 
of  the  liarometer,  in  connexion  with  the  changes  of  the 
-«'ind  and  the  clouds, — the  rate  and  progressive  motion  of 
the  storm  being  known  chiefly  from  the  veerings  of  the 
wind.  ■*  For_a  good  many  years   past   notifications  Lave 


been  sent  to  the  daily  newspapfr^  when  obscr<-ations  show- 
that  a  storm  is  not  far  from  the  island,  stating  its  position 
and  probable  course  from  day  to  day.  The  scheme  of 
storm  warnings  at  Mauritius  has  been  entirely  successful, 
and  the  result  is  of  great  value,  since  it  shows  what  may  be 
done  at  an  isolated  station  in  the  ocean,  sr  what  may  be 
done  in  ships  at  sea.  In  this  connexion  it  is  not  possible 
to  cverestimato  the  importance  to  seamen  of  a  knowledge 
of  the  hourly  variations  of  the  barometer  and  its  mean 
monthly  heights  over  the  ocean  tracks  of  commerce. 

In  passing  from  Mauritius  to  the  British  Islands  we 
pass  from  a  region  where  the  forecasting  of  storms  and 
weather  is  simplest  and  easiest  to  the  region  where  it  is 
most  complex  and  difiicult,  particularly  for  the  western 
districts  of  these  islands.  The  great  difTiculty  lies  in  the 
fact  that  the  British  Islands  are  immediately  bounded  by 
the  Atlantic  to  westwards ;  and,  since  practically  ever)' 
storm  and  nearly  all  iveather  changes  come  from  that 
direction,  no  telegraphic  communication  of  their  approach 
can  be  received.  The  Meteorological  Office  in  London  has 
therefore  no  choice  but  to  base  the  forecasts  on  such  of  the 
observations  telegraphed  to  the  office  as  experience  has 
shown  to  be  the  precursors  of  storms  and  other  weather 
changes.  The  more  important  of  these  observations  are 
the  falling  and  rising  of  the  barometer  taken  in  connexion 
-with  changes  in  the  direction  and  force  of  the  wind.  Since 
on  the  north  side  of  the  track  of  the  centre  of  the  storm 
winds  are  northerly  and  easterly  and  temperature  low,  and 
on  the  south  side  winds  are  southerly  and  westerly  and 
temperature  high,  one  of  the  most  important  points  to  be 
ascertained  is  the  probable  path  the  centre  of  the  coming 
storm  -will  take.  Though  a  good  deal  remains  to  be 
accomplished  in  the  development  of  this  phase  of  storms, 
yet  much  has  recently  been  done  in  this  direction  by  close 
examination  of  the  changes  of  pressure  in  the  region  of 
the  anticyclone  contiguous  to  the  advancing  storm  and  by 
the  changing  positions  of  the  rain  area  near  the  centre  of 
the  cyclone. 

As  fegards  Europe,  the  facility  of  forecasting  storms 
increases  as  distance  from  the  west  coasts  is  increased.' 
Thus  to  the  middle  and  eastern  districts  of  the  British 
Islands,  were  a  day  and  night  watch  established  in  the 
west,  forecasts  of  almost  every  storm  could  be  issued,  the 
exceptions  being  those  small  cyclones  or  satellite  cyclones, 
as  they  are  called,  originating  -within  the  British  Islands 
themselves,  which  are  frequently  characterized  at  once  bv 
their  severity  and  by  the  rapidity  of  their  onward  covirse. 
In  the  United  States,  the  system  of  -weather  forecasting  is 
perhaps  the  best  in  temperate  regions, — a  result  due  tc 
the  admirable  system  organized  and  developed  under  the 
direction  of  the  late  General  Myer,  and  adequately  sub- 
sidized by  the  Government,  but  above  all  to  the  facilities 
to  detect  and  ti-ack  the  storms  in  the  region  where  nearly 
all  of  them  have  their  origin,  to  west  of  the  Mississippi, 
before  they  advance  upon  the  more  thickly  peopled  States, 

Meteorology  sustained  a  heavy  loss  by  the  death  in  1877 
of  Leverrier,  who  was  not  only  the  keenest-sighted  of 
physicists  but  also  the  prince  of  orgauizers  of  systems  of 
meteorological  observation.  His  last  great  service  to  the 
science  was  the  establishment  of  a  system  of  observation, 
by  which  the  propagation  of  rain,  hail,  and  other  weathei 
phenomena  could  be  followed  and  recotded  from  commune 
to  commune  over  France.  This  scheme  for  the  investiga- 
tion of  the  vitally  important  bearing  on  the  meteorology 
of  a  country  of  a  comprehensive  observation  of  its  rainfall, 
hail,  and  thunderstorms,  through  numerous  observers 
possessing  sound  local  information,  is  not  only  eminently 
just  in  science,  but  is  calcidated  to  bo  attended  with  tlie 
greatest  benefits  to  agricultural  and  other  public  interests. 
The  practical  advantages  of  the  scheme,  it  need  scarcely 


TIBKBSTKLAJ.   MAGIiETISM.  ] 


METEOROLOGY 


be  added,  can  only  be  reaped  after,  a  very  large  expendi- 
ture of  labour  and  money  in  organizing  a  comprehensive 
parochial  scheme  of  observation,  systematically  and  per- 
sistently carried  through  and  discussed. 

Further  oetaila  regarding  meteorological  phenomena 
will  be  found  in  the  articles  Atmosphere,  Babometer, 
Climate,  HyGEOMEXKy  Ozone,  Raingauge,  Sea,  and 
Theemomeiek.  (a.  b.) 

TEKRESTKUL  ILiVGNETISM. 

1.  In  the  preceding  portion  of  tin's  article  some  account  has  been 
ffiven  of  tlio  influence  which  the  sun  and  moon  exeil  upon  the  air, 
the  earth,  and  the  ocean,  their  strictly  tidal  effects  being  left  to  be 
separately  dealt  with.  The  discussion  of  the  influenoo  of  these 
bodies  on  what  may  be  termed  the  movables  of  the  earth  will 
not  be  complete,  however,  without  embracing  an  account  of  the 
changes  which  they  produce  in  the  earth's  magnetism.  An  account 
of  the  earlier  magnetic  observations  has  already  been  given  under 
the  heading  Magnetism,  and  our  task  will  now  be  to  give  in  the 
first  place  a  description  of  the  best  and  most  recent  instruments  by 
which  the  magnetic  state  of  the  earth  is  determined,  embracing 
therein  observatory  iustiuments,  those  adapted  for  travellers  whether 
by  land  or  by  sea,  and  differential  magnetometers.  We  shall  next 
give  a  short  account  of  the  magnetic  system  of  the  earth  and  of  its 
secular  variation;  and  we  shall  then  investigate  the  changes  con- 
nected with  terrestrial  magnetism  depending  ou  the  sun  and  moon. 
In  performing  this  task  we  shall  be  led  to  conclude  that  the  sun's 
power  is  variable,  and  we  shall  therefore  examine  whether  this  con- 
clusion is  likewise  borne  out  by  strictly  meteorological  observations. 
Finally,  we  shall  venture  on  remarks  embodying  a  provisional 
working  hypothesis,  and  otu:  object  will  bo  gained  if  this  should  bo 
found  to  suggest  certain  lines  of  thought  to  those  interested  in  the 
subject  which  may  lead  them  to  examine  and  discuss  the  very  great 
mass  of  observations  at  present  existing. 

iNSTEtTMENTS  FOE  DeTEEMININO  THE  M.\GNETIC  St.^.TE 

OF  THE  Earth. 
(a)  Observatory  InstrXLmcnts. 

2.  Declinometer. — It  is  that  end  of  tho  needle  which  points  to 
the  north  magnetic  pole  of  the  earth  of  which  the  position  is  invari- 
ably noted  even  when  tho  observation  is  made  in  the  southern 
hemisphere.  The  difference  of  this  position  from  true  geogi'aphical 
north  denotes  what  is  called  tho  variation  or  declination  (east  or 
west)  of  tho  needle.  East  ia  often  reckoned  negative  and  west 
positive.  The  instrument  by  which  this  information  is  obtained  is 
called  the  declinometer.  Tho  unifilar  magnetometer,  which  is 
the  form  of  declinometer  now  used,  is  described  and  figured  in 
Magnetism,  vol.  xv.  p.  238. 

3.  ZHp  Circle. — The  instrument  by  which  the  magnetic  dip  or 
iiieliuation  is  observed  contains  a  thin  needle  about  3  inches 
long,  the  centre  of  gravity  of  which  coincides  as  accurately  as 
possible  with  the  axis  of  motion  of  the  needle.  The  needle  has  two 
axlea  consisting  of  two  very  fine  cylinders  of  hard  steel  standing  at 
right  angles  to  the  plane  of  the  needle,  and  great  attention  must  be 
paid  to  keep  these  axles  in  a  state  of  perfect  polish  and  dryness. 
By  means  of  these  the  needle  can  oscillate  iieely  on  two  horizontal 
agate  rounded  edges,  the  one  axle  Ij-ing  on  the  one  edge  4nd  the 
other  axle  on  the  other.  If  the  centre  of  gravity  coincides  exactly 
with  tho  axil  of  motion,  and  if  there  be  no  adhesion  or  friction 
between  tho  axles  and  the  agate  edges,  the  needle  must  settle  into 
such  a  position  that  its  magnetic  axis  lies  in  the  tiue  line  of  dip. 

The  position  of  the  ends  of  the  needle  is  read  by  means  of  two 
microscopes  which  move  round  on  a  cross  piece  carrying  verniers. 
Tp  view  the  position  of  the  lower  end  of  the  needle  we  move  round 
the  lower  microscope  until  the  cross  wire  in  its  field  of  view  (extend- 
ing in  the  line  between  the  two  microscopes)  symmetrically  cuts 
the  extremity  of  the  needle.  The  lower  vernier  is  then  read.  Tho 
same  process  is  repeated  for  the  upper  vernier,  and  tho  mean  of 
the  two  readings  is  taken.  This  mean  wiU  accurately  denote  the 
position  of  the  needle  if  the  circle  is  properly  set. 

The  sources  of  error  in  a  dip  observation  are — (1)  a  want  of 
symmetry  in  mass,  the  centre  of  gravity  of  the  needle  not  being 
coincident  with  the  axis  of  motion  ;  (2)  the  vertical  circle  being 
erroneously  set ;  (8)  a  want  of  sj-mmetry  in  magnetism,  tho  mag- 
netic axis  not  bemg  coincident  with  the.  axis  of  figure ;  (4)  excen- 
tricity,  the  axis  of  rotation  of  the  needle  not  passing  through  tho 
centre  of  the  circle  ;  (5)  friction  and  adhesion  of  the  axles  as  they 
rest  on  their  a^te  supports.  This  last  source  of  error  is  guarded 
against  by  taking  great  care  oi  tho  ixl^,  and  by  inserting  them 
igently  into  a  piece  of  cork  before  each  observation  j  the  agate 
•upports  ought  also  to  be  rubbed  wjti  cork.  Then,  again,  when 
!ih».n«:d]e  has  assumed  its  position,  before  reading  ft  is  gently  raised 
jby  means  of  s  lifter,  the  handle  ftr  tur-  eg  which  is  shown  in  the 
iSgnxe  towitd.«  tht  right.     It  is  then  gently  lowered,  ard  this  pro. 


169 

cess  is  repeated  until  no  apparent  change  of  position  is  produced, 
by  the  operation. 

4.  We  shall  now  describe  a  complete  dip  observation.  The  first 
point  is  to  make  the  needle  to  swing  in  the  plane  of  the  magnetic 
meridian.  In  order  to  accomplish  this,  after  levelling  the  instru- 
ment, the  verniers  are  set  for  90°,  that  is,  for  a  vertic^  position  of 
the  needle.  The  whole  instrument  is  now  turned  round  its  hori- 
zontal circle  until  the  exti'emitios  of  the  needle  are  bisected  by  the 
wires  of  the  two  microscopes,  and  the  positiou  of  tho  vernier  of  tho 
horizontal  circle  is  then  read.  The  needle  is  next  reversed  so  that ' 
the  microscope  shall  view  its  other  fiat  side  ;  it  is  made  vtstical  aa< 
before,  and  tho  position  of  the  horizontal  circle  read  once  moi-e. 
Ne.xt  the  face  of  the  instrument  is  turned  round  180°,  and  tho  same 
two  operations  repeated.  We  have  thus  fom-  readings  of  the  hori- 
zontal circle,  and  if  we  take  the  mean  of  these  we  sliall  have  ascer- 
tained with  sufficient  accuracy  the  position  of  that  plane  for  which 
the  needle  is  vertical.  Now  tliis  plane  must  be  removed  90°  from 
the  magnetic  meridian,  for  in  such  a  plane  tho  horizontal  magnetic 
force  oi  the  e^th  would  have  no  resolved  povtiou  acting  in  the 
plane  of  the  needle's  motion,  so  that  the  needle  would  practically 
bo  under  the  sole  influence  of  the  vertical  magnetic  force,  and  would 
therufore  point  in  a  vertical  direction.  By  this  means  therefore  w« 
obtaiu  the  magnetic  meridian,  and  thus  know  the  jilane  in  which 
we  ought  to  swing  the  needle.  Tho  needle  must  now  be  read 
in  the  following  positions  :— (o)  face  of  instrument  east— (ace  of 
needle  to  face  of  instrument ;  (/3)  face  of  instrument  west— face  of 
needle  to  face  of  instrument ;  {y)  face  of  instrument  west— back  of 
needle  to  face  of  instrument ;  (5)  face  of  instrument  east— back  of 
needle  to  face  of  instrument  Finally,  the  poles  of  the  nceiUe  must 
bo  reversed,  by  rubbing  them  ivith  powerful  bar  magnets  in  a 
direction  opposite  to  that  in  which  they  were  previously  rubbed, 
and  four  observations  taken  corresponding  to  the  above.  The  mean 
of  the  eight  observations  so  obtained  will  give  us  the  true  dip. 

The  turning  round  of  tho  face  of  tho  instrument  from  cast  to  west 
is  made  to  counteract  any  error  due  to  erroneous  setting  of  the 
vertical  circle.  The  reversal  of  tho  face  of  tho  needle  is  made  to 
counteract  any  error  due  to  the  centre  of  gravity  of  the  needle  not 
being  quite  coincident  in  the  diiection  of  the  needle's  breadth  with 
its  axis  of  motion,  and  likewise  any  erior  due  to  want  of  symmetry 
of  the  magnetic  axis.  The  correction  foi  excentiicity  is  made  by 
reading  both  ends  of  tho  needle.  Finally,  the  reversing  of  the  poles 
of  the  needle  is  intended  to  counteract  any  error  due  to  the  centre 
of  gi'avity  of  the  needle  not  being  coincident  in  tho  direction  of  the 
needle's  length  with  its  axis  of  motion. 

Dr  Jouie^  has  suggested  a  modification  of  the  dip  ciixle  in  which 
the  needle  is  hung  on  fine  threads  on  which  it  rolls  instead  of  rest- 
ing on  agate  suppoi-ts. 

5.  Horizontal  Force  Magnetometer. — The  theory  of  tho  instrument 
for  determining  the  horizontal  component  of  the  earth's  magnetic 
force  has  already  been  given  in  the  article  Magnetism,  vol.  xv. 
pp.  238  4^.,  and  the  instrument  is  shown  in  two  forms,  ibid., 
hgs.  28  and  29.  The  corr=ctions  necessary  for  accurate  results  are 
explained  in  a  paper  by  G.  M.  Whipple  (Froc.  Roy.  Soc.,  1877). 

(fl)  Imtrumenls  adapted  for  Travellers  by  Land. 

6.  Declinometer. — For  travellere  by  land  the  unifilar  instiument 
(§  2),  mounted  on  a  trip/d  stand  and  duly  levelled,  is  perhaps  the 
most  accurate  kind  of  declinometer. 

For  this  purpose  it  is  furnished  with  a  transit  niftror  by  means 
of  which  an  image  of  the  sun  may  be  thrown  into  the  field  of  view 
of  the  telescope,  and — the  geographical  position  of  the  station  as 
well  as  tho  apparent  time  of  the  observation  being  known — an 
azimuth  thus  aetermiued.  In  order  that  such  an  observation  may 
succeed,  the  following  points  must  receive  attention. 

In  the  first  jilaco  the  axis  of  the  mirrer  must  be  horizontal ;  the 
adjustment  for  this  is  made  by  means  of  a  riding  level.  Secondly, 
the  normal  to  the  plane  of  the  iniri-or  must  bo  perjiendieular  to  the 
axis.  Tho  adjustment  for  this  is  made  by  a  screw  attached  to  the 
back  of  the  mirror.  Take  some  object  sufficiently  elevated  and 
reflect  it  into  tho  telescope,  getting  tho  object  bisected  by  the  wire 
of  the  telescope.  Then  reverse  the  minor  in  its  bearings.  If  tho 
object  remains  still  bisected  by  the  wiro  no  correction  requires  to 
bo  made,  but  if  not  the  screw  at  the  back  of  the  mirror  must  bo 
moved  until  tho  object  is  in  precisely  the  same  position  in  both 
observations.  Thirdly,  the  line  of  colUmation  of  the  telescope  must 
be  perpendicular  to  the  plane  of  the  mirror.  In  order  to  obtain 
this  there  is  a  colhmating  eye-piece  a_ttached  to  the  telescope  by 
which  the  sun's  light  may  be  made  to"  illuminate  the  cross  wires. 
Now  turn  the  transit  min'or  until  the  reflexion  of  tho  illuminated 
cross  wires  coincides  with  the  wii-es  themselves,  in  which  case  the 
line  of  collimation  of  the  telescope  must  be  perpendicular  to  tho 
plane  of  the  mirror.  "When  this  correction  has  been  once  made,  noty 
the  circle  reading  of  a  small  vernier  which  moves  with  the  mirror 
and  always  set  the  mirror  so  as  to  give  this  reading. 

'  Ptoc.  Lit.  and  Phil.  Society,  Manchester,  voL  viii.  p.  171. 


160 


METEOROLOGY 


[lEErvESTMAL  JUGJTETISM. 


By  these  means  an  accuiate  reading  of  tho  sun's  bearing  may  be 
made  ;  and,  the  position  of  the  place  and  tho  time  of  observation 
being  known,  there  are  tables  which  enable  the  azimuth  to  be  at 
unce  detenniucd. 

7.  Lloyd's  Method  of  Dclermining  ihe  Total  Fores.— While  the 
dip  circle  and  the  horizontal  force  magnetometer  may  be  used  by 
travellers  iu  addition  to  tbeif  use  as  observatory  instruments,  the 
Rev.  Dr  Lloyd  has  devised  a  new  method  of  determining  the  total 
fcrce.  Tne  ordinary  method  of  obtaining  this  is  first  to  find  the 
dip  and  the  horizontal  force,  from  which  the  total  force  can  be  at 
once  deternJ'  led  by  tho  equation,— total  force »=  horizontal  force  x 
secant  din.  This  method  is,  however,  open  to  objection  in  high 
magnetic  la!,  tudes  where  the  horizontal  force  is  very  smill  and  the 
Jip  approaches  00°.  Now  in  Lloyd's  method  tiis  objection  is  over- 
tome.  ^  Another  circumstance  which  renders  his  method  peculiarly 
convenient  for  high  magnetic  latitudes,  whore  a  traveller's  equip, 
ment  must  be  kept  as  light  as  possible,  i.';  the  fact  that  it  only 
requires  the  addition  o£  two  needles  to  an  ordinary  dip  circle  in 
order  to  give  the  required  determination.  These  needles  must  be 
carefully  kept  from  contact  with  other  magnets,  and  their  poles 
never  revcr. 

Here  as  before  we  have  two  unlcnown  qn.antities  to  determine,  the 
one  being  the  magnetic  moment  of  the  reagnet  and  the  other  the 
total  force  of  tho  earth.  We  must,  therefore,  obtain  two  results, 
the  one  embodying  the  product  of  the  earth's  total  force  into  the 
magnetic  moment  of  the  needle,  while  the  other  gives  the  ratio 
between  these  two  quontities. 

8.  In  order  to  determine  the  former  of  these,  let  the  needle 
have  a  grooved  wheel  of  radius  r  attached  to  its  axle  as  in  fig. 
21,  and   over  this  wheel  let  an  accurately  knosvn  weight  W  be 

r 


Via.  21.— Dip  Circle, 
suspended  by  means  of  a  very  fine  silk  thread.  The  best  way  of 
doing  this  is  to  have  a  thread  with  two  hool^s  of  precisely  equal 
weight  at  each  end  and  then  attach  tho  preponderating  weight  W 
to  one  of  these  hooks.  When  this  is  done  a  new  position  of  equili- 
brium will  be  taken  by  tho  needlo.  If  wo  suppose  that  ?«  denotes 
,the  magnetic  moment  of  the  needlo,  that  i  is  the  angle  of  dip  at  the 
place,  and  that  »|  denotes  tho  angle  which  the  needlo  in  its  deflected 
position  makes  with  the  horizon,  tho  weighting  being  so  made 
that  5)  shall  bo  less  than  i,  then  it  is  clear  that  tho  needle  h*;  been 
deflected  out  of  its  position  of  equilibrium  through  an  angle  i-n. 
If  we  call  this  angle  u  and  ticsignato  by  K  the  total  force 
»t  the  place,  wo  obtain  the  following  equation  of  equilibrium : — 

mRsinM  =  Wr (1), 

on  the  supposition  (which  is  very  nearly  hut  not  strictly  correct) 
that  W  denotes  a  constant  force  at  all  latitudes. 

9.  Next,  in  order  to  determine  the  ratio  between  this  needle's 
force  and  that  of  the  earth,  let  it  bo  removed  and  employed  to 
ilcloet  another  substituted  in  its  pis 


When  using  it  thus  p.p  a  deflector  -'t  should  bo  laid  iu  a  fiamc  in 
an  invariable  position  as  in  fig.  21.  This  fran:e  is  at  right  angles  to 
tho  line  between  the  two  microscopes,  and  as  both  pieces  movo 
together  the  best  plan  is  to  turn  the  v/holo  round  until  the  deflected 
needle  k  visible  in  the  centre  of  the  field  of  the  microscopes,  in  which 
position  it  is  of  course  perpendicular  to  the  deflecting  needle.  By 
always  keeping  to  this  arrangement  we  secure  an  invariable  distance 
between  the  poles  of  the  t^vo  needles.  Suppose  therefore  that  we 
have  employed  the  needle  as  a  deflector  in  the  above  manner,  ami 
that  the  deflected  needle  has  thus  been  made  to  assume  a  position 
denoting  an  angle  ij'  with  the  horizon.  It  has  therefore  been 
deflected  from  its  position  of  equilibrium  by  an  angle  i  -  ij'  (i  denot- 
ing the  dip  as  before);  calling  this  angle  of  dcHcxion  u\  we  obtain 
the  following  equatijU  of  equilibrium : — 

Ksiuu'  =  ?nTJ (2), 

U  being  a  function  depending  upon  the  distance  of  the  needles  and 
on  the  distribution  of  free  magnetism  in  them. 

10.  If  we  multiply  together  equations  (1)  and  (2),  we  obtain 

K-sinMsinw'  — UWr (G), 

in_ which  w,  u'  are  determined  by  observation,  while  W  and  r  may 
be  regarded  as  constants.  U  is,  as  we  have  said,  a  function  de- 
pending upon  the  distance  of  the  two  needles  and  upon  the  distri- 
bution of  free  magnetism  in  them. 

The  magnetic  moment  of  these  nedles  is  of  coarse  liable  to  altera- 
tion, but  if  they  are  carefully  guarded  from  contact  with  magnets 
we  may  imagine  that  while  their  intensity  alters,  becoming  weaker 
for  instance,  this  nevertheless  does  not  .scnsiblj^  aflcct  the  distribu- 
tion of  the  free  magnetism  within  them,  in  which  case  the  function 
U  may  be  regarded  as  a  constant  quantity.  The  results  obtained 
by  this  method  of  Lloyd's  fully  confirm  this  hypothesis  regarding 
U ;  but  it  is  essential  that  tho  two  additional  needles,  the  deflector 
and  the  deflected  needle,  should  have  their  poles  at  no  time  either 
reversed  or  disturbed. 

Assuming  therefore  the  constancy  of  tho  quantity  tT,  its  vaine  may 
be  easily  determined  at  any  base  station  where  the  total  force  has 
been  determined  independently  by  the  ordinary  method. 

11.  Having  thus  determined  the  value  of  U,  or  at  once  of  tJWr 
(which  we  may  call  c),  let  us  carry  our  instrument  to  a  diflereut 
staliou  and  make  the- requisite  observations.    We  thus  obtain 


As  this  mettled  is  specially  adapted  for  high  lati^ades,  the  dip  circle 
employed  (fig.  21)  ought  to  be  one  for  which  the  agate  supports  are 
horizontal,  so  as  to  admit  of  the  needle  being  visible  when  the  dip 
is  nearly  equal  to  90°.  It  will  also  be  noticed  that,  if  the  deflecting 
needle  have  the  same  temperature  when  it  is  used  in  equation  (I) 
which  it  has  wheu  used  in  equation  (2),  then  m  iu  the  one  case  ie 
strictly  equal  to  m  in  the  other,  and  thus  no  temperature  con-ection 
is  rendered  Eecessary. 

12.  A  slight  modification  of  the  method  now  aeseribed  is  some- 
times adopted.  Instead  of  employing  separate  weights,  which  may 
be  easily  lost,  two  small  holes  are  bored  in  the  deflecting  needle 
near  each  end.  The  one  of  these  is  filled  with  a  suitably  heayy 
brass  peg  when  the  observations  are  to  be  made  in  the  higher 
magnetic  latitudes  of  the  northern  hemisphere,  and  the  other  is 
filled  in  a  similar  manner  when  the  observations  are  to  be  made 
near  the'  southern  pole.  In  thU  case  therefore  we  must  readjust 
the  instrument  as  we  pass  from  the  one  hemisphere  to  the  other,  '^^i 
slight  change  must  be  made  in  the  fonnula  when  this  method  is 
adopted,  for  it  is  clear  that  the  weight  will  not  now  act  always  at 
the  same  constant  leverage.  If  the  weight  be  called  W  and  its 
leverage  when  the  needle  is  horizontal  r,  we  shall  have  to  modify 
equation  (1)  as  follows- 

))iKsin«='Wrcos7i (B). 

Equation  (2)  will,  however,  remain  unaltered,  and  hcnco  equation 
(3)  will  become 

n'siniismu'-UWrcoa        (6). 

If  tho  quantity  XTWr  bo  determined  at  tho  base  station  and  called 
c',  wo  shall  havo 


■/. 


siuusinu' 


(^: 


(7)  Instrumtnta  adapted  for  Travclkra  oy  Sea. 
13.  Azimuth  Compass. — At  sea  tho  declination  is  generau/i 
observed  by  means  of  an  azimuth  comiiasa  invented  by  Kater.! 
This  is  exhibited  in  fig.  22.  It  consists  of  a  magnet  with  B 
graduated  compass  card  attached  to  it  At  tho  sido  of  tho  iustm-' 
ment  opposite  the  eye  there  is  a  frame  which  projects  upwardsl 
from  tho  plane  of  the  instrument  in  a  nearly  vertical  direction,  and 
this  frame  contains  a  wide  rectangular  slit  cut  into  two  parts  by 
a  wire  extending  lengthwise.  Tho  eyopicco  is  opposite  this  framo, 
and  tho  observer  is  supposed  to  point  the  in3trume"t  in  such  •« 


FiQ.  22. — Azimuth  Compass. 


rEKBESTKIAI.  HAGNETJSM. 

manner  that  thowire  above  nicTi'toueJ  shall  bisect  the  sun's  nsiblo 
disk.  There  is  a  totally  leflcctiiit;  gl4iss  pri&m  which  throws  into 
the  e3'e-piecc  an  imago  of  the  scale  of  the  graduated  card,  so  that 
the  observer,  having  first  bisected  the  sun's  disk  ty  the  wire, 
must  next  read  the  division  of  the  scale  which  is  in  the  middle  of 
the  field  of  view.  Ho  thus  obtains  a  reading  of  the  sun's  position  : 
let  us  call  this  100*.  From  this, 
knowing  the  geographical  posi- 
tion of  his  station  and  the  time 
of  tlie  observation,  he  may  de- 
duce an  azimuth  ;  let  us  imagine 
that  this  is  70'  W.  Thus  a 
reading  of  100"  corresj^nds  to 
a  position  70°  W,  Suppose  next 
that  the  instrument  is  so  ad- 
justed that  when  the  magnetic 
axis  of  the  magnet  is  between 
the  eye-piece  and  the  wire  the 
reading  is  0".  It  is  thus  clear 
that  the  magnetic  meridian  is 
1.00°  removed  from  the  position 
70"  W.  Let  us  imagine  that  the  instrument  is  so  graduated  that 
this  denotes  a  position  30°  E.  We  have  thus  obtained  the  mag- 
netic declination.  If  the  vessel  be  at  rest  the  plan  generally 
adopted  is  to  take  the  reading  of  the  sun  when  rising  and  also 
when  setting;  a  mean  between  the  two  will  give  that  which  cor- 
responds to  a  geographical  meridian. 

.  14.  Fox's  Dip  Circle.— This  instrument,  contrived  by  Robert 
Wero  Fox,  is  more  especially  useful  for  observations  at  sea.  In 
this  case  it  must  be  placed  on  a  giraball  stand  and  duly  levelled 
before  commencing  the  observation.  The  following  are  the  peculi- 
arities of  this  instrument : — (1)  the  needles  have  two  fine  pivots  or 
axles  which  are  inserted  into  jewelled 
tockets  ;  (2)  in  order  to  avoid  parallax 
there  are  two  graduated  circles,  the 
one  farther  from  the  eye  than  the 
other,  and  when  reading  the  needle 
the  eye  is  to  be  so  placed  that  pre- 
cisely the  same  reading  shall  be  given 
by  botii  circles, — the  true  position  of 
the  needle  being  thus  obtained  ;  (3) 
there  is  a  rubber  made  of  bone  or  ivory 
«nd  roughened,  the  object  of  which  is 
to  rub  a  prolongation  of  the  socket  on 
the  back  of  the  instrument, — the  fric- 
tion which  this  rubbing  causes  enabling 
the  needle  to  find  its  true  position; 
(4)  to  avoid  as  much  as  possible  all 
effects  due  to  frict;on  and  adhesion, 
the  entire  socket  arrangement  may  be 
turned  round.  TheaxK'S  of  the  needle 
•re  thus  compelled  to  be  in  contact 
with  a  different  set  of  particles.  An- 
other way  of  varying  the  suspension 
is  to  use  a  magnetic  deflecting  arrange- 
ment attached  to  the  back  of  the 
apparatus.  Suppose  that  a  reading 
of  the  position  of  the  needle  so  de- 
flected is   now    taken.     Next    reverse 

the  position  of  the  deflecting  arrangement,  which  is  done  by  turn- 
ing a  movable  circle  attached  to  this  arrangement  180"  round;  let 
the  position  of  the  needle  be  again  read.  On  the  hypothesis  that 
the  needle  is  equally  deflected  on  opposite  sides  of  its  true  position 
in  these  two  observations,  the  mean  reading  will  give  the  true 
dip.  ^  The  principle  of  the  method  of  observing  with  this  circle  is 
precisely  the  same  as  that  already  described  for  observations  on 
shore  with  an  ordinary  inclinometer. 

15.  Fox's  Intensity  Arrangement  is  merely  a  modification  of  that 
introduced  by  Lloyd,  and  already  described  in  §  7.* 

(8)  Differential  Magnetometers  and  Self- Recording 
Magiutographs. 

16.  In  addition  to  determinations  at  fixed  intervals  of  time;  it  is 
•  point  of  much  interest  and  importance  to  keep  a  continuous  record 
©rail  the  magnetic  changes  which  take  place  at  a  few  selected 
•tations.  This  is  accomplished  by  means  of  difTerential  magneto- 
meters. It  is,  however,  necessary  to  continue  to  use  absolute 
instruracnta  side  by  side  with  differential  magnetometers,  because 
the  latter  (with  the  exception  of  the  declination  instrument)  are 
badly  fitted  for  recording  changes  of  long  period,  such  as  the  secular 
changes  of  the  horizontal  and  tbe  vertical  force.  The  reason  of  this 
will  presently  be  seen. 

'  A  great  deal  of  detafled  InforroaHon  regarding  Instmmenta  for  absolute  deter- 
mination and  the  merhouR  t '  obscnrlng  with  them  Is  to  be  fonnd  In  the  Admiralty 
Uanuat  0/ Scientific  Inquiry  in  an  article  on  "Terrestrial  Maffnetiani,"  by  Sabine 


xM  E  T  E  O  R  O  L  O  Q  y 


161 

17.  Early  in  tho  history  of  such  instruments  It  was  found  tnat 
hourly  observations  were  exceedingly  laborious,  and  attempts  were 
made  to  construct  a  set  of  self-recording  magnetometers.  The  first 
set  of  such  instruments  which  were  brought  iuto  systematic  opera- 
tion were  those  devised  and  constructed  by  the  late  Charles  Brooke, 
which  have  been  at  continuous  work  in  the  Greenwich  Observatory 
since  1848.  In  1857  John  Welsh  devised  a  fresh  set  of  self-record- 
ing instruments,  and  introduced  them  into  the  Kew  Observatory. 
These,  with  certain  slight  modifications,  have  formed  the  type  of 
instruments  supplied  to  a  large  number  of  magnetic  observatories 
all  over  the  globe. 

18.  As  we  cannot  conveniently  record  changes  of  dip  by  a 
drflerential  instrument,  changes  of  vertical  force  are  measured 
instead  by  a  balance  or  vertical  force  magnetometer.  We  have  thus 
in  a  differential  system,  whether  adapted  to  eye  observation  or  to 
continuous  photographic  registration,  three  instruments,  uaraely.i 
the  declination,  the  horizontal  force,  and  the  vertical  force  mag- 
netometers or  magnetographs  as  the  case  may  be.  Tho  most 
recently  constructed  instruments  are  adapted  both  for  photographic 
registration  and  for  ej'e  observation  through  a  telescope.  Tho 
advantage  of  eye  obser\'ations  is  that  wo  see  what  is  taking  placft 
at  the  very  moment  of  its  occurrence,  whereas  we  only  obtain  the 
photographic  record  son^e  time  after  the  changes  to  which  it  relate^ 
nave  actually  happened. 

Wo  shall  therefore  describe — (a)  the  three  instruments  of  the  Kew 
pattern  as  adapted  to  eye  observations  ;  (fi)  these  instruments  ai 
adapted  to  continuous  registration  by  photogiuphy  ;  (7)  the  method 
of  determining  their  scale  coefficients  ;  (8)  the  method  of  determin-, 
ing  the  temperature  coefficients  of  the  force  instruments. 

19.  Kew  Instruments — Eye  Observations. — Fig.  23  shows  us  these 
instruments  arranged  in  the  relative  positions  recommended  by 
Lloyd  so  as  magnetically  I'o  interfere  with  one  another  as  little  as 


Fio.  23.— Kew  Instruments. 

possible.  We  are  supposed  to  be  viewing  the  whole  from  tho  sontb. 
No.  1  to  the  right  is  the  declination  instrument.  No.  2  that  for 
the  horizontal  force,  and  No.  3  in  the  distance  behind  the  central 
pillar  (No.  i)  the  vertical  force  magnetometer.  Figs.  24,  25,  28 
give  us  the  details  of  these  three  instruments  in  the  same  order  as 
above.  Connected  with  each  instrument  there  is  a  circular  mirror, 
or  rather  two  semicircular  mirrors,  made  of  perfectly  plane  glass. 
One  semicircular  half  of  each  mirror  is  attached  to  the  magnet 
and  moves  with  it,  while  the  other  half  is  firmly  attached  to  the 
marble  slab.  Each  magnet  is  enclosed  in  a  gun-metal  cas9  with 
windows  of  perfectly  plane  glass  ;  each  gun-metal  case  is  covered 
with  a  glass  shade  ;  and  the  whole  is  air-tight,  and  capable  ol 
exhaustion.  Each  magnet  too  is  provided  with  a  copper  damjiei 
with  tho  view  of  checking  its  oscillations.  In  fig.  23  v/ill  be  seen 
two  pillars  of  smaller  size.  The  right-hand  pillar  carries  a  tele- 
scope, with  a  scale  attached,  to  record  the  position  of  the  declination 
magnet.  The  scale  is  reflected  from  the  semicircular  minor  moving 
with  the  magnet,  and  the  position  of  this  reflected  scale  as  viewed 
in  the  telescope  indicates  the  position  of  tho  magnet  Tho  optical 
arrangement  for  the  other  instruments  is  similar,  except  that  the 
vertical  force  mirror  has  a  horizontal  and  not  a  vertical  aiis. 
The  telescopes  for  viewing  the  force  instruments  are  attached  to 
the  left-hand  pillar  of  smaller  size. 

20.  The  Dtdinmneter  *  (fig.  24)  consists  ot  a  magnet  about  5  inches 
long  suspended  by  a  silk  thread  freed  from  torsion  as  completely  aa 


For  a  detailed  account  ol  tbB  SjgV  nUflSCtognph^ 


XVL    —    2X 


m 


METEOROLO  G>T 


j>ossiblc.  To  Iccep  the  stato  of  the  thread  constant  the  class  snade 
should  be  rendered  air-tight,  and  should  contain  some  substance  for 
absorbing  moisture,  such  as  chloride  of  calcium.  It  is  clear  that 
■J"  tho  state  of  the  thread  remains 
tho  same,  and  if  tlie  position  of 
the  magnetic  axis  of  the-  magnet 
does  not  change,  this  iustiimient 
should  record  faithfully  the  various 
changes  of  declination. 

Tho   Horizontal  Force   Mag7teto- 
Tncitfr  is  exhibited  in  fig.  25.     Here 
the  magnet*  has  been  twisted  round 
into  a  position  at  right  augles  to 
the  magnetic  meridian.     It  is  sus- 
pended by  means  of  two  very  fine 
«r,eol    wires    some    little    distance 
apart,  and  thus  the  instrument  is 
olten    called   the    bifilar  magneto- 
meter.    These  wires  have  tho  piano 
passing    through    their   lower   ex- 
tremities   differing   very  consider- 
ably from  that  of  their  upper.     If 
the  magnet  a'lould  suddenly  lose 
its  magnetism  the  whole  arrange- 
ment would  bo  twisted  round  until 
the   two   planes    coincided.      This 
difference  of  plane  gives  rise  to  a 
couple  tending  to  twist  the  magnet 
round  in   one  direction  while  tli^^ 
horizontal   magnetic   force   of    tt, 
ff'Tth      constitutes     an 
■ecjUal       and      opposite  -^t=— 
coaple,  the  two  couples   "- 
keeping  the  magnet  ii 
equilibriuuL  Thecouj*!-' 
depending  upon  the  bi-  __ 
filar   arrangement   may  -^^^^ 
for  the   present  be   re-  ^~"^*^^ 
garded  as  constant,  that  . ,  ,     , 

depending  on  the  hori- 
zontal  force   of  the   earth   as  variable.     If  the  latter  increase  or 
diminish,  the  magnet  will  i;e  slightly  twisted  round  in  one  direction 
or  the  other. 

In  tho  Vertical  Force  Magnetometer  (fig.  26),  the  magnet  is 
balanced  by  means  of  a  knife-edge 
resting  on  an  agate  plane.  By 
means  of  two  screws  working  hori- 
zontally and  vertically  the  centre 
of  gra^'ity  may  be  thrown  to  either 
side  of  the  point  of  suspension, 
or  it  may  be  raised  or  lowered  and, 
the  sensibility  of  the  magnet  when 
balanced  thereby  increased  or 
diminished.  These  screws  are  so 
arranged  that  there  is  a  preponder- 
ance of  weight  towards  the  south 
aide  of  tho  magnet.  This  is 
neutralized  partly  by  the  magnetic 
force  tending  to  pull  tho  north  end 
do^vn  and  partly  by  a  slip  of  brass 
standing  out  horizontally  towards 
the  north  side.  Let  us  suppose 
the  system  to  be  in  equilibrium  at 
a  certain  temperature  ;  if  the  tem- 
perature rise  (since  brass  expands 
more  than  steel),  the  leverage  of 
the  weight  at  the  north  side  will 
increase  more  than  that  of  the 
weight  at  the  south.  There  vdW 
thus  bo  a  slight  preponderance 
towards  tho  north,  and 
this  may  be  an-angcd 
.so  as  to  n:utralizo  to  a  y  -  ~:-V--  -^^  ' 
great  extent  the  de-  >  '  .-  /^jjjl?' 
iCreaso  in  tho  magnetic  ^^  .7' 

jmoment  which  an   in-  r  ^■\ 
crease    of   temperature    ^^ 
produces.  _, 

21.  Magmtograplis.  Fio.  25.— Horizontal  Force  Magnetometer. 
I — Tlio  arrangement  by  means  of  which  these  instruments  are  con- 
rvortod  into  self-recordingmagnotographs  is  very  simple.  In  fig.  23 
■wo  see  a  gas  flame  burning  behind  a  vertical  slit  and  placed  ond- 
;Wise  in  order  to  render  its  light  more  intense.  Tho  light  from 
this  illuminated  slit  passes  through  a  lens,  and  being  reflected 
from  the  mirror  of  the  declination  magnet  throws  an  image  of  tho 


I  TBRni^sTKiAii  maoneti&h:| 

slit  upon  some  sensitized  paper  in  the  central  box.  To  spealc| 
more  properly,  two  images  are  thrown,  one  rcllocted  from  thcupperf 
and  movable  half  and  the  other  from  the  fixed  half  of  tho  mirror.T 
The  sensitive  paper  is  wrapped  round  a  hori/onlal  cylinder  (fig.  27)A 
and  the  tvvo  unagas  are  tnercfore  thrown  upon  diflcrcnt  vzvXs^  ojft 


>  All  tbo  msgaeta  are  of  tbc  eaiDc  sUa 


this  cylinder.  But  before  reaching  the  cylinder  these  trvr  imagei^ 
are  by  means  of  a  hemicyLLndiical  lens  (shown  in  fig.  27)  crushed 
up  into  two  dots  of  light.  The  cylinder  moves  round  regularly  by 
clock-work  once  in  twenty-four  houi-s,  and  hence  the  eourse  on  th? 
moving  paper  of  the  dot  of  light  which  comes  from  the  fixca  Iwa* 
mirror  will  be  a  straight  line,  wliile  that  of  the  dot  from  the 
moving  half-mirror  wUl  be  a  curved  line  dependijjg  on  the  motions* 
of  the  magnet.  When  the  paper  is  developed  these  lines  appear 
black. 

The  arrangement  for  the  horizontal  force  instrument  is  precisely  J 
similar  to  that  for  the  declinometer  ;  for  the  vertical  force  it  ie 
somewhat  different,  the  illumuiated  slit  being  horizontal  and  not 
vertical,  while  the  mirror  oscillates  on  a  horizontal  axis  and  not  on. 
■  vertical  one  ;  the  hemicylindricai  lens  too  and  the  cylinder  are 
•■  rtical  and  not  horizontal.  It  was  found  necessary  to  put  the 
1  lane  of  motion  of  the  vertical  force  magnet  15°  out  of  the  magnetic 
iiieridian  for  the  following  reason.  The  axes  of  the  telescopes  are 
respectively  30"  inclined  to  the  tubes  which  go  fi-om  t^"  magneto-. 


Fio.  27. — Magnetograph. 

meters  to  the  central  box,  and  hence  had  tho  vertical  force  magnet 
swung  in  the  magnetic  meridian  it  would  have  been  necessarj*  to 
place  tho  mirror  inclined  at  the  angle  of  15"  to  the  axis  of  motion 
of  the  magnet.  This  was  tried,  but  it  was  found  that  ib  this  posi- 
tion of  tho  mirror  the  correction  for  temperature  was  so  excessive 
that  the  instrument  became  a  thermometer  and  not  a  magnetometer. » 
The  mirror  was  therefore  put  in  a  plane  passing  through  the  axis' 
of  motion  of  the  needle,  the  needle  being  made  to  move  in  a  planet 
inclined  15°  to  tho  magnetic  meridian. 

22.  Scale  Cocjficicnts  of  Dijfcrcntiallnstrumcnis. — It  is  nocessaiyj 
to  know  the  value  of  one  division  of  tho  scale  in  the  magnetometer, 
or  of  one  inch  difference  in  tho  ordinate  of  the  curve  impressed  on' 
the  photographic  paper  in  tho  magnetograph.  In  the  aeclinatioD 
instrument  it  is  only  necessary  to  obtain  the  angular  deviation  cor- 
responding to  one  division,  and  this  may  ho  done  at  once  by  a  seriod 
of  measurements.  In  tho  horizontal  andverliral  force  instruments 
wo  ^vi8h  to  obtain  the  value  of  one  dinsion  in  pai  t-s  of  force.  There 
is  more  than  one  method  by  which  this  can  De  accomplished,  but 
that  of  John  Allan  Broun  is  probably  the  simplest,  and  it  is,  w* 
believe,  the  one  adopted  at  most  of  tho  various  obsorvatories  pos- 
sessing self-recording  instruments.  It  is  given  in  the  Bntiak 
Association  Reports^  1869. 

28  fevtpcraiUTe  Coefficients  of  Dijjcrcntxai  Force  Instnivutax—n 
Broiin  has  devoted  a  great  deal  of  attention  to  tho  subject  of 
these  coeflTicicnts,  and  has  come  io  tlic  conclusjon  that  the  beat 
and  most  unobjecUonablc  moLhoJ   of   determining  them  ib  H5 


iTBREESTKIAL   MAGXETISM.] 


MET  E  O  R  O  L  O  a  Y 


1G3 


compare  tna  instrumental  readings  on  days  when  the  tempera- 
ture is  high  with  the  readings  on  days  when  the  temperature  is 
low. 

'  24.  By  differential  instruments  the  components  of  a  force  affect- 
ing the  magnet  are  determined  in  three  directions  at  right  angles 
lo  each  other.  It  does  not,  however,  follow  that  this  force  is 
entirely  due  to  changes  in  the  magnetism  of  the  earth.  We  know 
that  certain  forces  connected  with  the  sun  affect  the  earth's  mag- 
netism, and  on  certain  occasions  at  least  these  forces  manifest  them- 
selves as  currents  in  the  upper  regions  of  the  atmosphere  and  in 
the  crust  of  the  earth.  Now  such  currents  will  have  a  direct  effect 
upon  the  needle  as  well  as  an  indirect  effect  through  the  changes 
which  they  may  produce  in  tlie  magnetism  of  the  earth.  The  total 
influence  on  the  needle  will  therefore  be  made  up  of  these  two  ele- 
ments, the  one  denoting  the  direct  influence  on  the  needle  of  the 
disturbing  force,  and  the  other  the  indirect  influence  through  the 
change  produced  in  the  earth's  magnetism.  No  attempt  has  yet 
heen  made  to  separate  the  action  of  these  two  elements. 

25.  Self-recording  instruments  after  the  Kew  pattern  have  been 
supplied  to  observatories  at  the  following  places  : — 


Batavia. 

Coimbra  (Portugal). 

Lisbon. 

St  Petersburg.  ' 

Florence. 

Stonyhurst. 

Utrecht  (declination  only). 

Melbourne. 


Mauritius. 

Kolaba  (Bombay). 

Vienna. 

Zi  Ka  Wei  (China). 

San  Fernando  (Spain). 

Potsdam. 


Nice. 


There  are  also  self-recording  magnetographs  of  other  patterns  at 
Toronto,  Montsouris  (Paris),  Greenwich,  Wilhelmshaven  ?')  Cape 
Horn,  and  Havana  (!).  ^ 

We  understand  that  Professor  W.  G.  Adams  is  at  present 
engaged  in  making  a  comparison  of  simultaneous  curves  from  vari- 
oos  stations  of  these  lists.' 

.  Magnetic  Poles  of  the  Earth— Secular  Vaeiation. 
28.  Magnetic  Foks  of  tU  Earth.— In  the  article  Magnetism  it 
has  been  shown  that  Dr  Gilbert  of  Colchester  had  at  a  very  early 
period  grasiped  the  important  trath  that  the  earth  is  a  magnet,  a 
tmth  which  was  afterwards  mathematically  demonstrated  by  Gauss. 
It  was  reserved  for  Halley,  the  contemporary  of  Newton,  to  show 
that  the  earth  must  be  regarded  as  having  two  poles  in  the  northern 
and_  two  poles  also  in  the  southern  hemisphere,  so  that,  unlike 
ordinary  magnets,  its  magnetic  system  has  four  poles  altogether. 
Before  proceeding  further  it  will  be  desirable  to  state  what  it  was 
that  Halley  acturfly  did  and  what  are  the  conclusions  to  be  derived 
■from  his  investigations.  It  has  been  remarked  by  Professor  Stokes 
that,  while  in  an  ordinary  bar  magnet  wo  may  practically  re<^rd 
the  pole  as  having  a  pliysical  reality  and  as  being  the  cause  of  well- 
known  attractions  and  repulsions,  we  are  not  entitled  a  priori  to 
assume  that  a  point  of  maximum  force  in  a  large  spherical  magnet 
like  the  earth  must  necessarily  be  the  seat  of  attractions  and  repul- 
sions after  the  same  manner  as  the  pole  of  an  ordinary  bar  magnet. 
It  is  to  be  determined  by  observation  to  what  extent  the  earth 
actually  preserves  an  analogy  to  an  ordinary  magnet.  Now  Halley's 
conclusions  were  derived  from  the  pointing  of  the  declination 
needle,  since  in  his  day  there  were  no  observations  possible  on  total 
magnetic  force.  Ho  argued  that  there  are  two  points  or  poles  in 
the  northern  hemisphere  to  which  the  needle  appears  to  be  attracted, 
one  in  the  upper  region  of  America  and  one  above  Siberia.  So  far 
this  conclusion  is  hardly  anything  more  than  a  formal  one  derived 
.from  the  grouping  together  of  observations.  He  asserted  that  these 
would  be  as  they  are  known  to  be  if  we  imagine  two  such  poles  or 
foci  of  force  each  exercising  a  causal  influence  on  the  magnetic 
needlp.  And  the  justification  of  Halley's  way  of  regarding  the  earth 
is  found  in  the  fact  that  when  force  observations  came  to  be  made 
two  such  foci  of  force  were  actually  found  to  exist.  We  do  not, 
however,  mean  to  imply  that  these  foci  have  causal  properties 
exactly  similar  to  the  poles  of  a  bar  magnet,  for  this  is  not  the 
case. 

In  order  to  exhibit  the  process  of  reasoning  which  led  Halley  to 
his  conclusion,  let  us  first  imagine  that  the  earth  has  only  a  single 
pole  or  force-focus  in  the  northern  hemisphere,  and  that  this  is 
coincident  with  its  geographical  pole  ;  then,  assuming  that  this 
pole  has  a  causative  influence  on  the  needle's  declination,  we  should 
'•.meet  all  needles  to  point  everywhere  due  north.  It,  however,  this 
pole  be  not  coincident  with  the  north  pole  of  the  earth,  let  us  draw 
a  meridian  circle  passing  through  the  magnetic  pole  and  complete 
It  round  the  earth  so  as  to  divide  the  earth  into  two  halves.     At  all 


points  in  this  ineridian  circle  the  needle  might  be  expected  to  point 
due  north  while  in  the  one  half  of  the  earth  so  divided  it  should 
noint  to  the  east  and  in  the  otlier  half  to  the  west  of  true  north. 
In  the  next  place  let  us  imagine  that  the  earth  has  two  north  mag- 
netic poles  or  foci  of  equal  strength,  both  being  at  the  same  latitudl 
while  their  difference  in  longitude  is  130°,  and  let  us  draw  a  com' 
plete  circle  of  meridian  passing  through  these  poles  (fig.  28V  Let 
us  start  from  a  point  in  this  circle 
under  one  of  these  poles  and  pursue 
our  journey  eastwards  along  a  circle 
of  latitude.  At  first  the  needle  will 
point  due  north.  As  we  move  east- 
wards the  needle  will  point  west- 
wards to  the  pole  we  are  leaving 
until  we  come  to  a  region  half-way 
between  the  two  poles,  where  it  will 
be  equally  solicited  by  each,  and 
will  tnerefore  .again  point  due  north. 
Let  us  call  the  space  we  have  travel- 
led over  since  we  set  out  A.  As  we 
proceed  the  needle  will  now  be  under 
the  predominant  influence  of  the 
second  pole  to  our  right,  and  will  therefore  point  to  the  east 
until  we  arrive  at  the  meridian  under  the  second  pole.  This  second 
space  which  we  have  travelled  over  let  us  call  B.  As  we  proceed 
we  pass  through  a  space  C  where  the  needle  again  points  to  the  west 
until  being  once  more  equally  influenced  by  the  two  pedes  it  will 
point  due  north.  After  this  we  pass  through  a  space  D  of  easterlv 
variation  until  we  arrive  once  more  at  the  point  from  which  wo 
started. 


'Weo 


3  Ills  putllshera  Messrs  Sampson  Low  £ 


r-       >,    i  '"^''"•'J""  10  Mr  Gordon_«nd r--.—  .  -.=«...  ^.,v^..  ^..w  o. 

1,0.,  who  have  obUlned  them  (or  us— for  the  sketches  of  the  Instniments  for 
otjsolnte  determinaUons,  with  the  exception  of  that  of  Kater's  compass,  for  which 
w»«ro  Indsbtcd  to  Mr  J.  J.  BIcks.  For  the  sketch  of  the  aelt-recordhig  mai;- 
9  indebted  to  the  Kew  committee  and  to 


Thus  there  are  now  four  spaces  instead  of  two,  and  these  ar.> 
shown  in  fig.  28,  where  the  centi-e  of  the  circle  represents  the  north 
geographical  pole  of  the  earth,  and  its  circumference  the  equator 
If  pole  2  ba  inferior  in  power  to  polo  1  the  spaces  B  and  C  will  be 
smaller  in  size  than  A  and  D. 

27.  This  last  is  an  arrangement  of  things  that  agrees  very  well 
with  the  results  of  observation,  if  wo  add  that  the  two  poles  are  not 
precisely  180°  removed  from  one  another  in  longitude.  Fig.  30  4 
represents  lines  of  equal  magnetic  variation  in  1882.  There  are  two 
lines  extending  throughout  both  hemispheres  at  all  points  of  which 
there  is  no  variation,  and  also  an  oval-shaped  district  in  the 
northern  hemisphere  throughout  all  jioints  in  the  circumference  of 
which  we  have  no  variation.  These  facts  are  inconsistent  with  the 
hypothesis  of  a  single  pole,  but  they  are  quite  consistent  with  that 
of  two  poles  or  foci  of  force,  one  in  northern  America  and  the  other 
in  northern  Asia,  the  former  being  stronger  than  the  latter.  In 
order  to  see  this  let  us  take  our  stand  at  the  great  line  of  no  varia- 
tion which  passes  through  North  America  and  travel  eastwards. 
We  are  just  south  of  the  American  pole  or  focus,  while  the  Asiatic 
pole  or  focus  is  nearly  180°  off,  and  hence  the  needle  points  due 
north.  As  we  proceed  eastwards  we  leave  the  American  or  strongest 
pole  to  the  westward  of  us,  and  hence  we  have  a  region  of  west 
variation  which  we  have  agreed  to  call  A.  As  we  begin°to  approach 
the  eastern  side  of  Europe  we  get  nearer  the  Asiatic  pole  or  focus, 
and  at  length  the  line  of  no  variation  is  reached,  the  tendency  of 
the  American  pole  to  pull  the  needle  to  the  west  being  balanced  by 
the  tendency  of  the  Asiatic  pole  to  ])ull  it  to  the  east.  After  this", 
easterly  variation  predominates  throughout  a  region  B  until  at 
length  we  come  to  a  point  in  the  western  boundary  of  the  oval  where 
we  may  imagine  ourselves  to  be  directly  south  of  the  Asiatic  pole 
while  the  American  pole  is  nearly  180°  distant;  once  more  the 
needle  points  due  north.  As  we  still  travel  eastwards  wo  leave  the 
Asiatic  pole,  which  is  now  the  predominant  one,  to  our  left)  and 
hence  we  have  here  a  region  C  of  westerly  declination.  At  length 
we  come  to  the  eastern  boundary  of  the  oval,  where  the  tendency  of 
the  Asiatic  pole  to  pull  the  needle  to  the  west  is  balanced  by  the 
tendency  of  the  American  or  stronger  pole  (acting  now  towards  the 
right)  to  pull  it  to  the  east,  so  that  we  have  once  more  a  point  of 
no  variation.  After  this  the  American  pole  predominates,  and  we 
have  a  large  region  D  of  easteriy  variation  until  we  travel  round 
once  more  to  the  point  from  which  we  started. 

28.  This  train  of  argument  receives,  as  we  have  already  men- 
tioned, corroboration  from  the  fact  that  in  the  map  of  total  force  we 
perceive  two  foci  of  maximum  force,  one  in  northern  America  and 
the  other  in  northern  Asia,  that  in  America  being  the  strongest. 
This  evidence  was  not,  however,  in  existence  at  the  time  of  Halley, 
and  his  hypothesis  of  two  poles  does  the  greater  credit  to  his 
sagacity,  inasmuch  as  he  had  to  deduce  it  from  a  comparatively 
small  number  of  observations  of  declination  and  dip,  those  of  force 
being  altogether  wanting. 

29.  We  have  hitherto  spoken  of  two  poles  or,  more  properlv, 
foci  of  maximum  fora:,  the  positions  of  which  are  of  course  best 
pointed  out  in  fig.  29  ;  but  we  have  seen  that  the  existence  of  such 


^  Wo  arc  Indebted  .for  the  admirable  charts  given  in  figa.  29-32  to  the  kindness 
of  the  hydrographer,  Captain  Sir  Frederick  Evans,  who,  In  order  to  save  time 
BUowed  us  to  make  use  of  the  information  he  bad  embodied  even  before  it  w«» 
ofBclaU?  published,  and  who  likewise  placed  his  plates  at  onr  disposal 


164: 


METEOROLOGY 


[ti:belsxbiai.  maqkxhsil. 


foci  was  first  conjectoied  from  the  bohaviour  of  the  lines  of 
variation  or  declination.  Now  it  mil  bo  noticed  by  looking  at  the 
rariation  map  (fig.  30)  that  all  the  lines  of  equal  magnetic  variation 
appear  to  converge  to  a  point  in  the  extreme  north  of  the  American 
continent.  This  point  is  not,  however,  coincident  with  the  chief 
focus  of  force,  which  lies  decidedly  to  its  south  ;  but  it  is  no  doubt 
coincident  with  the  point  denoting  a  dip  of  90°,  the  locality  of 


which  may  bo  inferred  from  the  map  of  m:;gcctic  dip  (fig.  31),  aul 
it  is  likewise  no  doubt  coincident  with  the  r.ositiou  of  a  zero  of 
horizontal  force  which  ir.iy  bo  inferred  from  the  map  of  horizonlat 
force  (lig.  32).  'ITius  we  liave  a  point  to  the  extreme  north  ot 
America  which  has  the  foHov.'i:i^  properties  : — (1)  the  various  LncA 
of  uoclination  converge  to  it ;  (2)  tne  needle  points  vertically  down- 
wards at  it ;  and  (3)  tho  horizontal  force  vaniahes  at  it     At  thit 


Flo.  29. — The  Earth's  Magnetism  as  shown  by  the  Distribution  of  Lines  of  Equal  Total  Force,  in  Absolute  Measui'e  (British  miles),  with  tho 
Position  of  the  Magjietic  Poles  and  Equator, — approximately  for  1875. 


point  therefore  the  horizontally  balanced  needle,  having  no  hori- 
zontal force  acting  upon  it,  will  point  in  any  direction. 
I  This  point  is,  strictly  speaking,  the  pole  of  vertirity,  bnt,  inas- 
much as  there  is  only  one  such  point  in  each  hemisphere,  these  may 
for  convenience  sake  be  termed  the  magnetic  poles,  so  that  we  speak 
of  two  centres  or  foci  of  maximum  force,  and  one  pole  in  each  hemi- 
sphere 


In  the  northern  hemisphere  Sir  Frederick  Evans*  assumes  tho 
stronger  or  American  focus  to  be  in  .52°  N.  and  90°  W.,  and  tho 
weaker  or  Siberian  focus  in  70°  N.  and  115°  E.  In  the  southera 
hemisphere  he  assumes  the  position  of  the  stronger  focus  to  be  65* 
S.  and  140°  E.,  and  of  the  weaker  focus  probably  6U°  S.  and  130°  E., 
these  being  thus  not  far  separated  from  each  other  or  from  tha 
magnetic  pole.    The  nearness  together  of  the  southern  foci  is  prol^ 


East  Vu^aQen 


Wctt   Vanaooa 


rCAnVATUbaa 


WaM  VvuUS 


jKiq.  so.— Lmes  of  Equal  Magnetic  Variation,  1882. 


'ably  the  reason  why  tho  total  force  is  greater  at  tho  southern  than 
lit  is  at  tho  northern  foci. 

The  magnetic  pole  (of  vorticity)  in  the  northern  hemisphere  was 
Teached  by  Sir  James  Ross  in  1831.  The  position  of  vertical  dip 
was  observed  by  him  to  bo  70°  6'  N.  and  90°  43'  W.  Tho  m.ignctio 
pole  (of  verticity)  in  the  gouthora  hemispboro  was  nearly  attained 


by  tho  same  navigator  in  a  voyage  made  in  1839-M.     Its  positii»w 
is  probably  73 J°  S.  and  nrj'li- 

The   lino  of  no  -'ip  is  called  the  magnttic  or  dip  equator — itt 
position  is  given  in  tigs.  29  and  81.     Tho  lino  connecting  all  thu 

>  eimcntan  MamaXM  lU  Batatim  tftUt  (tavou  te  Ava  Bklpi. 


■XSESSTEIAL  MAONXTliiU.] 


METEOROLOGY 


165 


•points  where  the  mijnctic  intensity  is  least  is  called  the  dynamic 
equator.     It  coincides  very  nearly  with  the  dip  equator. 

80.  Secular  Variation. — The  e^rth  then  as  a  maffnet  must  be 
supposed  to  have  two  sets  of  centres  of  force.  AN  e  shall  next 
attempt  to  show  that  these  centres  cannot  be  regarded  as  constant 
faoth  in  position  and  intensity. 

It  should  be  cremised  thati  while  there  is  no  well-established 


e'ndenco  to  show  that  either  the  pole  of  verticitj'  or  the  cectro  of 
force  to  the  north  of  America  has  perceiitibly  changed  its  place, 
there  is,  on  the  other  hand,  very  strong  evidence  to  show  that  wo 
have  a  change  of  place  on  the  jiart  of  the  Siberian  focas  and  also  on 
the  part  of  its  analogue  in  the  Bouthern  hemisphere. 

Table  1.  (p.  166),  given  by  GUpin  {Phil.   Trr.na.,  1806),>  exhibits 
the  change  in  the  position  of  the  needle  in  Great  Britain  from 


Fio.  31. — Lines  of  Equal  Magnetis  Dip,  1882. 


the  earliest   obsenrations  np  to  the  beginning  of  the  present 
century.     "  "  :     ■  - 

SI.  Between  the  dates  recorded  in  this  table  the  needle  has  been 
pointing  more  and  more  to  the  west,  which  implies  either  a  relative 
ucrease  in  the  power  of  the  American  as  compared  to  the  Siberian 
focus,  or  a  motion  of  the  Siberian  focus  from  west  to  east  On  the 
first  supposition  the  lines  to  the  eastward  of  the  SibeHan  focus — 


for  instance,  the  line  ofno  variation  depending  on  a  balance  between 
it  and  the  American  focus — should  be  drawn  in  towards  it,  or  they 
should  travel  westwards ;  but  if  the  latter  supposition  is  true,  or 
this  focus  has  been  moving  eastwards  while  retaining  its  force,  the 
lines  to  the  east  of  it  should  be  found  moving  eastwards  also.  There 
is  strong  evidence  that  the  latter  is  the  case,  and  that  in  the 
northern  hemisphere  there  has  been  a  long-continued  progression 


^IG.  32.— Lines  of  Equal  Horizontal  Force,  1882. 


to  the  east^'ards  of  the  system  of  magnetic  lines  on  toth  sides  of 
the  Siberian  focus.  In  the  southern  hemisphere  also  we  have  proof 
that  the  analogous  focus  has  been  travelling,  not  from  west  to  east, 
but  from  east  to  west. 

S2.  There  "s  some  reason  to  believe  that  the  eastward  motion  of 
thySiberian  focus  has  been  recently  reversed,  and  that  it  is  now 
going  from  east  to  west.    Table  U.  shows  the  declination  observed 


at  Bushey  Heath  (Herts)  during  1817-20,  and  at  Kew  from  1868 
to  1882. 

It  would  appear  from  Table  II.  that  the  maximum  westerly 
declination  was  reached  in  1818,  and  that  the  needlo  has  since  that 
date  been  travelling  eastwards.    A  similai-  change  has  taken  place 


I  Taken  from  Walker'i  Uofnelimt. 


166 


METEOROLOGY 


[TEItEESTItlAL  MA0KETI3M. 


&t  other  stations ;  and,  altliougli  these  changes  are  not  strictly 
simultaneous  at  the  various  stations,  they  have  yet  been  sufficiently 
general  and  near  together  in  point  of  time  to  indicate  that  some 

Table  I.— Secular  CItange  of  VaHaticm  in  Great  Britain. 


Observer. 

Date. 

Declination. 

Mean  AiinudI 
Westward 
Cliange. 

1580 
1622 
1634 
1657 
1665 
1672 
1692 
1723 
1748 
1773 
1787 
1795 
1802 
1805 

11   15E. 
6     OE. 
4     6E. 

0  OE. 

1  22  W. 

2  30  W. 
6     OW. 

14  17 W. 
17  40 W. 
21     9W. 
23  19  W. 

23  57 W. 

24  6AV. 
24     8W. 

Gimter 

7 
9 
10 
10 
9 
10 
16 
3 
8 
9 
4 
1 
0 

6 
6 
2 
7 
5 
0 
1 
4 
3 
7 
2 
7 

Cellibranil 

Bond 

Halley 

Hallcy 

Graham 

Gilpin 

change  hxs  probably  taken  place  in  the  movement  of  one  set  of  the 
magnetic  foci  of  force. 

33.   Halley  sought  to  explain  the  four-pole  theory  and  to  account 

Table  II. — Changes  of  Declination  in  England,— at  Bushcij  Beath 
for  1817-20,  and  at  Kcwfrom  1858. 


Declination  West. 

Declination  Wost. 

1817 

24     36      4 

1869 

20     26     24 

1818 

24    38    25 

1870 

20     18    52 

1819 

24    36     14 

1871 

20     10    31 

1820 

24     34     30 

1872 

20      0    31 

1858 

21     64      8 

1873 

19     57     44 

1859 

21     47     22 

1674 

19     51     58 

1860 

21     39     51 

1875 

19     41     14 

1861 

21     31     36 

1876 

19    31     53 

1862 

21     23    32 

1877 

19    22    22 

1863 

21     13     16 

1878 

19     13     50 

1864 

21       3     35 

1879 

19      6     10 

1865 

20    59      3 

1880 

18    57     59 

1866 

20    51     10 

1881 

18    50    30 

1867 

20     40     26 

1882 

18     44    47 

1868 

20     33       9 

Table  IW.—Exh 

ibiling  certain  Years'  Values  of  Declination  a 

Varioui 

Places. 

'                  Toronto 
\ 

Makerstoun. 

TrCTandrum. 

Cap 

of  Good  Hope. 

Hobart  Town.               1 

Declination 

Declination. 

Declination. 

Declination. 

Declination. 

1841 

1   14-3  W. 

1841 

25  33-7  AV. 

1854 

0  25-896  E. 

1605 

0  30-0  E. 

1843 

9  53-32  E. 

1842 

1   19 

1  W. 

1842 

25  28 

4  AV. 

1855 

0  26 

026  E. 

1609 

0  12 

0  AV 

1844 

9  54-93  E. 

1845 

1  29 

1  W. 

1843 

25  22 

9  AV. 

1856 

0  26 

400  E. 

1622 

2     0 

0  AV 

1845 

9  56-47  E. 

1846 

1  30 

8  W. 

1844 

25  17 

1  AV. 

1857 

0  27 

278  E. 

1675 

8   14 

0  AV 

1846 

9  58-42  E. 

1847 

1  S3 

2  W. 

1845 

25  11 

3  AV. 

1858 

0  28 

769  E. 

1691 

11     0 

0  AV. 

1847 

9  59-28  E. 

1848 

1  35 

4  W. 

1846 

25     6 

0  AV. 

1859 

0  30 

406  E. 

1751 

19  15 

0  AV. 

1848 

9  60-61  E. 

1849 

1  36 

9W. 

1847 

24  59 

6  \V. 

JS60 

0  32 

034  E. 

1775 

21  14 

0  A\'. 

1850 

1  38 

6  W. 

1848 

24  51 

8  AV. 

1861 

0  34 

318  E. 

1788 

24     4 

0  AV. 

1851 

1  40 

9  W. 

1849 

24  45 

2  AV. 

1862 

0  36 

654  E. 

1792 

24  31 

0  AV. 

1856 

1  56 

3  W. 

1850 

24  39 

0  AV. 

1863 

0  39 

123  E. 

1818 

26  31 

0  AV. 

1857 

2     0 

5  W. 

1851 

24  31 

3  AV. 

1864 

0  41 

603  E. 

1836 

28  30 

OAV. 

1858 

2     4 

5  W. 

1852 

24  25 

2  AV. 

1865 

0  44 

007  E. 

1839 

29     9 

0  AV. 

1859 

2    7 

4  W. 

■    1853 

24  18 

7AV. 

1866 

0  46 

310  E 

1841 

29     6 

2AV. 

1860 

2  10 

6  W. 

1854 

24  11 

8  AV. 

1867 

0  47 

590  E. 

1842 

29     5 

9  AV. 

1861 

2  14 

4  AV. 

1855 

24     5 

8  AV. 

1868 

0  48 

687  E. 

1843 

29     6 

OAV. 

1862 

2  15 

7  AV. 

1869 

0  49-735  E. 

1844 

29     6 

2  AV. 

1863 

2  19 

1  AV. 

1845 

29     7 

4  AV. 

1864 

2  21 

9  AV. 

1846 

29    8 

7  AV. 

1865 

2  24 

8  AV. 

1847 

29  12 

4AV. 

1866 

2  27 

6  W. 

1848 

29  14-0  AV. 

1867 

2  29 

8AV. 

1849 

29  16  2AV. 

1868 

2  33 

2  AV. 

1850 

29  18-8  AV 

1869 

2  37 

1  AV. 

1870 

2  41 

9  AV. 

1871 

2  47-9  AV. 

1 

Table  IV.- 

-Exhibiting  certain  Years'  Values  of  Dip 

ind  Horizontal  Force  at  Various  Places 

The  years  in  this  Table  are  from. 

April  to  April ;  th-us  1845  means  the  yea 

rfrom  1st  April  1845  to  3lst  March  1846. 

London 

or  Kew. 

Toronto. 

Hobart  Town. 

Cape  of  Good  Hope. 

Dip. 

Hor.  Force. 

Dip. 

Hor.  Force. 

Dip. 

Hor.  Force. 

Dip. 

1857 

68  24-87 

1857 

3-7899 

1845 

75  15-60 

1845 

3-5476 

1842 

70  42-2 

1846 

4-5054 

1841 

53     9-1 

1858 

63  22 

56 

1858 

3-7950 

1846 

75  14 

58 

1846 

3 

5419 

1843 

70  38 

2 

1847 

4-5001 

1842 

53  15-3 

1859 

68  21 

41 

1859 

3-8007 

1847 

75  15 

30 

1847 

3 

5384 

1844 

70  33 

3 

1848 

4-4991 

1843 

53  20-2 

1860 

68  19 

29 

1S60 

3-8063 

1848 

75  18 

3-:> 

1848 

3 

5339 

1845 

70  32 

0 

1849 

4-4997 

1844 

53  29-4 

1861 

68  17 

42 

1861 

3-8121 

1849 

75  18 

94 

1849 

3 

5367 

1846 

70  33 

0 

1850 

4-4998 

1845 

53  29-3 

1862 

68  14 

89 

1862 

3-8165 

1850 

75  19 

98 

1850 

3 

5322 

1847 

70  34 

5 

181.3 

68  11 

71 

1863 

3-8216 

1851 

75  20 

42 

1851 

3 

5299 

1848 

70  35-7 

1864 

68     9 

31 

1864 

3-8284 

1852 

75  20 

52 

1852 

3-5154 

1865 

68     8 

50 

1865 

3  8306 

1866 

68     5 

44 

1866 

3-8391 

1867 

68     2 

62 

1667 

3  8467 

1668 

68     2 

13 

1808 

3-8493 

1869 

68     0 

41 

1869 

3-8551 

1870 

67  57 

98 

1870 

S-8585 

1871 

67  56 

12 

1871 

3-8640 

1872 

67  53 

60 

1872 

3-8712 

1873 

67  51 

19 

1873 

3-8777 

1874 

67  49-64 

1874 

3-8828 

fTHaRESIElAL   MAGXETISM.] 


MLTEOROLOGY 


167 


for  the  secular  change  by  imagining  a  solid  globe  or  terella,'  con- 
centric with  the  earth  but  rotating  independently  of  the  external 
shell  and  having  a  slightly  different  period  of  rotation,— the  shell 
having  two  jiolcs  and  the  terella  t^vo  others.  Wliile  continuing  to 
adrniro  Halley's  saRacity,  we  shall  not  now  be  disposed  to  allow  such 
a  constitution  of  the  interior  of  the  earth,  but  will  rather  be  led  to 
look  to  some  external  influence  as  the  cause  of  the  secular  variation. 
\Vliile  we  have  strong  evidence  that  the  Siberian  focus  has  changed 
its  position,  we  cannot  assert  that  the  American  focus  has  been 
absolutely  stationary,  or  that  neither  focus  has  experienced  any 
,  changes  of  force.  On  these  points  we  must  be  content  to  be  gnided 
by  observation  alone. 

34.  It  has  been  supposed  by  some  magnetjcians  that  it  is  pos.sible 
to  compute  with  something  like  certainty  the  particulars  of  the 
motions  of  the  magnetic  foci.  Hanstecn  more  especially  (1811-19) 
computed  both  the  gcogi-aphical  positions  and  probable  periods  of 
revolution  of  this  dual  system  of  loci  of  force  round  the  terrestrial 
pole.  Sir  Frederick  Evans  has  discussed  in  connexion  with  the  sub- 
ject all  the  most  recent  observations,-  and  points  out  two  objections 
to  any  such  theory  as  that  of  Hansteen,  -nz.,  (1)  that,  while  a  mag- 
netic turning  point  has  been  reached  in  certain  regions,  there  are 
large  portions  of  the  earth  in  which  this  change  has  not  yet  been 
accomplished,  and  (2)  that  in  certain  districts  of  the  earth  very  great 
ohangciJ  in  force  have  taken  place.  "If  we  turn,"  he  says,  "  to  the 
continent  of  South  America  and  its  adjacent  seas,  we  shall  find  a 
liminution  of  the  intensity  of  the  earth's  force  now  going  on  in  a 
remarkable  degree.  An  examination  of  the  recent  ohser\'ations 
made  by  the  '  Challenger '  officers  at  Valparaiso  and  Monte  Video, 
:ompared  with  those  made  by  preceding  observers,  shows  that 
.vithin  half  a  century  the  whole  force  has  respectively  diminished 
one-sixth  and  one-seventh,— at  the  Falkland  Islands  one-ninth." 
On  the  whole,  while  there  is  strong  evidence  that  the  Siberian  focus 
has  until  recently  been  travelling  eastwards,  and  its  analogue  west- 
wards, and  evidence  less  conclusive  that  recently  a  turning  point  in 
this  motion  has  been  reached,  we  are  disposed  to  think  with  Sir 
Frederick  Evans  that  a  formal  theory  like  that  of  Hanstecn  docs  not 
igree  mth  recent  observations.     We  shall  revert  to  this  subject. 

35.  In  Tables  III.  and 'IV.  certain  yearly  values  of  declination, 
,  lip,  and  hoiizontal  force  arc  given  for  various  stations. 

Inequalities  in  or  connected  with  Terrestrial 
Magnetism  depending  on  the  Sun. 

36.  As  there  is  a  marked  likeness  between  th6"ways  ia  which  the 
3un  dominates  over  the  two  great  divisions  of  terrestrial  phenomena, 
meteorology  and  magnetism,  let  us  endeavour  to  describe  the 
sun's  effect  upon  tlie  latter  by  referring  to  its  influence  on  the 
former,  the  chief  peculiarities  of  which  are  well  known  to  all.  We 
find  that  the  temperature  of  the  air  at  a  given  station  is  subject  to 
a  diurnal  fluctuation  having  its  minimum  value  shortly  before  sun- 
lise  and  its  maximum  early  in  the  afternoon.  We  find  likewise 
that  the  mean  temperature  for  the  day,  as  well  as  the  amplitude  of 
this  diurnal  oscillation,  depends  upon  the  season  of  the  year,  both 
being  greatest  about  midsummer  and  least  about  midwinter.  Now, 
if  this  were  the  only  manifestation  of  solar  influence  upon  this 
particular  element,  it  would  be  possible  to  pretlict  the  temperature 
tor  any  hour  of  any  day  once  the  mean  temperature,  the  diurnal 
variation  of  temperature,  and  the  modification  of  these  for  different 
seasons  of  the  year  had  been  well  ascertained.  But  this  amount  of 
regulaiity  is  very  far  from  takin"  place, — the  march  of  temperature 
being  frcq^uently  interrupted,  cloaked,  perhaps  even  reversed,  by 
the  advent  of  peculiar  weather.  Thus  we  may  have  very  cold 
"Weather  in  midsummer  and  very  warm  weather  in  midwinter,  or 
wc  may  have  a  very  cold  afternoon  and  a  very  warm  early  morning, 
by  which  means  tne  ordinary  conditions  of  temperature  will  be 
completely  reversed.  In  like  manner  weather  interferes  even  to  a 
greater  extent  mth  the  diurnal  oscillation  of  the  atmospheric 
pressure,  so  that,  in  British  latitudes  at  least,  it  is  only  possible  to 
o'btain  this  correctly  by  means  of  a  long  scries  of  observations. 

Weather,  however,  does  not  consist  of  a  perfectly  lawless  inter- 
ference with  periodical  phenomena,  but  is  subject  to  laws  of  its  own, 
some  of  which  we  are  beginning  to  discover.  Sometimes  weather 
may  exalt  or  depress  the  diurnal  fluctuation  of  temperature  without 
otherwise  affecting  its  character;  but  sometimes  too  the  turning- 
points  and  the  general  appearance  of  this  fluctuation  are  greatly 
influenced  by  peculiar  weather. 

'  37.  Now  it  is  believed  that  we  have  something  of  this  kind  in 
those  fluctuations  depending  on  the  sim  to  which  the  elements  of 
terrestrial  magnetism  are  subject.  Let  ns  take  the  declination 
as  the  most  easily  studied  of  the  three  magnetic  elements,  and 
suppose  that  we  are  engaged  in  considering  the  traces  denoting  the 
fluctuations  of  declination  as  derived  from  a  set  of  self-recording 
magnetographs  in  Great  Britain.  Here  we  shall  at  once  be  able  to 
recognize  in  an  unmistakable  manner  the  diurnal  variation  depend- 
ing upon  the  position  of  the  sun,  in  virtue  of  which  a  freely- 


»  See  Walker's  Terrtttrial  and  Cosmical  Magrutism^  where  the  snhject  is  well 
^cussed. 

'JtoUs  lecture  to  the  Royai  Geographical  Society,  March  II,  1878. 


suspended  magnetic  needle  reaches  the  easterly  extreme  of  its  range 
about  eight  in  the  morning,  and  the  westerly  about  two  in  the 
aftenioon.  We  shall  likewise  perceive  that  the  range  of  this 
diurnal  fluctuation  is  greatest  at  midsummer  and  least  at  mid- 
winter. In  fine,  the  characteristics  of  this  fluctuation,  depending 
as  they  do  upon  the  hour  of  the  day  and  the  season  of  the  year, 
are  not  very  diflcieut  from  those  exhibited  in  the  diurnal  fluctua- 
tion of  atmosphciie  temperature.  But,  however  thoroughly  we 
may  have  ascertained  tlie  mean  declination  and  its  diurnal  oscilla- 
tion, as  well  as  the  modifications  of  these  depending  on  the  season 
of  the  year,  we  shall  nevertheless  find  it  impossible  to  predict  the 
exact  position  of  a  freely-suspended  magnet  at  any  moment  of  a 
particular  day.  Hero  then  too  we  have  something  which  may  be 
called  magnetic  weather,  and  which  interferes  with  the  regular 
progress  of  the  systematic  fluctuations  of  the  magnet.  Magnetic 
weather  has,  like  its  meteorological  analogue,  a  set  of  laws  of  its 
own,  some  of  which  wc  are  beginning  to  find  out.  Sometimes 
magnetic  weather  may  exalt  or  depress  the  diiumal  fluctuation  of 
declination  without  affecting  its  character,  but  it  is  imagined  that 
at  other  times  the  turning  points  and  general  appearance  of  this 
fluctuation  may  be  greatly  influenced  by  peculiar  magnetic  weather. 

38.  There  is,  however,  a  kind  of  magnetic  change  which,  so  far 
as  we  know  at  present,  is  not  analogous  to  anything  in  meteorology, 
and  introduces  an  additional  element  of  complexity  in  any  attempt 
to  analyse  the  fluctuations  of  terrestrial  magnetism.  We  mean  the 
well-known  magnetic  disturbances  or  storms  which  occur  simul- 
taneously in  places  very  widely  apart.  Under  these  circumstances 
it  becomes  a  question  how  we  can  best  deal  in  a  practical  manner 
with  this  complicated  system  of  things. 

Wo  do  not  think  that  with  our  present  knowledge  any  bettet 
system  can  be  adopted  than  that  first  inti-oduced  by  Su:  Edward 
Sabine  in  his  discussion  of  the  results  of  the  colonial  magnetic 
observatories.  Suppose  that  we  have  hourly  magnetic  observations 
at  a  station,  then  firat  of  all  we  should  arrange  these  into  monthly 
groups — each  hour  by  itself.  We  should  then  reject  as  disturbed 
observations  all  those  which  differ  by  more  than  a  certain  amomit 
from  their  respective  normals  of  the  same  month  and-lianr, — chs 
normals  being  the  homly  means  in  each  month  after  the  exclusion 
of  all  the  disturbed  observations.  This  method  enables  us,  by  its 
exclusion  of  disturbances,  to  ascertain  mth  much  accuracy  the  true 
form  of  the  solar-diurnal  variation  of  the  magnetic  elements  at  a 
given  place  corresponding  to  every  month  of  every  year,  providca 
only  that  the  observations  are  sufficiently  numerous.  On  the  other 
hand  it  will  probably  fa0  in  accurately  giving  us  the  variations  from 
day  to  day  of  the  ranges  of  these  dimnal  fluctuations  caused  by  the 
advent  of  peculiar  magnetic  weather,— inasmuch  as  the  records  of 
the  extreme  effects  of  such  weather  will  probably  be  cut  off  from 
the  undisturbed  observations  and  reckonccf  among  the  disturbances. 

For  instance,  it  is  known  that  the  solar  influence  on  terrestrial 
magnetism  varies  from  year  to  year,  and  it  is  suspected  that  there 
are  also  short-period  fluctuations  of  solar  influence.  It  would  not, 
however,  be  a  safe  proceeding  to  attempt  to  estimate  niunerically 
this  last-mentioned  element  of  fluctuation  by  taking  the  successive 
diurnal  ranges  of  those  obseiTations  at  any  station,  reckoned  as 
undisturbed,  by  the  above  process,  and  plottin|  them  as  successive 
ordinates  of  a  curve,  and  then  supposing  that  this  curve  would  give 
us  a  true  graphical  representation  of  solar  changes.  It  would 
rather  probably  represent  such  changes  with  the  tops  and  bottoms 
of  the  larger  fluctuations  cut  off.  But  if  the  undisturbed  observa- 
tions fail  in  this  respect  we  can  hardly  be  wrong  in  supposing  that 
there  has  been  eliminated  from  them,  as  far  as  possible,  sol  influence 
due  to  magnetic  storms,  and  hence  that  they  will  afford  us  a  much 
better  means  of  estimating  small'fluetuations,  such,  for  instance,  as 
those  due  to  the  moon,  than  we  could  have  had  without  their  aid. 
Finally,  with  regard  to  that  portion  of  the  observations  selected 
as  disturbed,  we  are  probably  not  certain  that  every  such  observa- 
tion represents  a  true  disturbance,  or  that  the  absolute  times  of 
occurreuco  of  the  various  observations  selected  as  distuibed  at  one 
station  will  be  the  same  as  those  at  another.  Nevertheless  Sir 
Edward  Sabine  has  shown  that  at  the  Kew  Observatory  certain  laws 
of  disturbance  deduced  from  the  whole  body  of  observations  selected 
as  disturbed  are  closely  reproduced  when  this  selection  is  made  on 
a  narrower  basis — ninety-five  days  of  prominent  disturbance  being 
alone  taken.  With  these  prefatory  remarks  we  shall  now  proceed 
to  discuss  the  diurnal  inequality  of  terrestrial  magnetism. 

39.  Total  Diurnal  IncqualUy  Defined.— It  will  be  seen  further 
on  that  disturbed  as  well  as  undisturbed  observations  are  subject  to 
a  divuTial  variation,  but  these  two  variations  are  different,  and  the 
name  diurnal  inequality  is  generally  given  to  the  compound  varia- 
tion which  is  the  joint  resultant  of  the  two.  Solar-diurml 
variation  is  that  portion  of  the  compound  inequality  which  refers 
to  undisturbed  observations,  while  that  which  refers  to  disturb- 
ances has  received  the  name  of  disturbance-diurnal  mnatxon.  It 
would  appear  that  in  the  United  Kingdom,  and  perhaps  through- 
out Europe,  the  total  diurnal  inequaUty  is  not  very  greatly 
different  either  in  character  or  range  from  its  most  important 
component  the    solar-diurnal    variation,   at  least  so  far  as^the. 


168 


METEOROLOGY 


declination  is  conecrrei  When  the  diumal  oscillation  of  a  freely- 
sospenJcJ  nia^ct  was  first  observcil,  tho  subject  of  map^ctic 
disturbances  was  not  understood,  and  tho  early  individual  deter- 
minations which  have  been  handed  down  to  us  are  not  such  as  to 
justify  t!ie  cxiiendituro  of  any  very  great  labour  npon  them  for 
the  purpose  of  scjiarating  tho  disturbed  from  tho  undisturbed  obser- 
Tations.  Inasmuch,  however,  as  tlie  total  diurnal  inequality  of 
declination  (which  is  in  reality  tho  element  given  by  these  early 
observations)  docs  not  greatly  differ  from  the  solar-diurnal  varia- 
tion, we  may  with  much  justice  and  little  risk  of  error  give  the 
history  of  these  early  observations  in  connexion  with  that  of  the 
solar-diurnal  variation  of  declination,  which  is  by  far  the  best 
known,  and  perhaps  tho  most  important,  of  all  the  various  magnetic 
changes  protluccd  by  solar  inducnce. 

40.  Solar- Diurnal  Vnriation  of  Declination. — Graham,  an  instru- 
ment maker  of  London,  discovered  in  1722  that  a  freely-suspended 
ma'Tictic  needle  is  subject  to  a  diurnal  oscillation  of  definite  char- 
acter.' The  next  obscrvci  vias  Canton,  who  in  1756  bc^n  a  series 
of  nearly  four  thousand  observations,  which  he  communicated  to  the 
Royal  Society  on  December  13,  1759,  and  from  which  he  concludts 
that  the  range  of  the  diurnal  variation  is  greater  in  summer  than  in 
wriuter.  Macdon.ild's  oteervations  at  Fort  Marlborough  in  Sumatra 
in  1795  [Phil.  Tram.,  1796),  and  Duperrey's  in  the  tropics  in  1S25, 
were  perhaps  the  first  that  might  lead  us  to  conclude  that  the 
amplitude  of  the  diumal  oscillations  of  the  ncedjc  is  less  in  the 
tropics  than  in  middle  latitudes,  and  that  the  motion  of  the  needle 
in  the  southern  hemisphere  is  in  the  opposite  direction  to  that  in 
which  it  moves  in  the  northern  hemisphere  at  the  same  hour. 

41.  SemianmuU  Inequality.- — The  existence  of  these  early 
observations  had  led  some  magneticians  prematurely  to  conjecture 
that  there  must  bo  a  line  somewhere  near  the  equator  at  which 
there  is  no  horary  variation  in  declination.  In  1347  Sabine  com- 
municated to  the  Roy::!  Society  the  results  of  five  years'  observations 
at  St  Helena,  showing  that  at  that  station  for  the  half  of  the  year 
beginning  at  the  vernal  and  ending  at  the  autumnal  eqnir.oi  the 
motion  of  the  needle  corresponds  nearly  to  that  in  the  northern 
hemisphere,  whils:  for  the  other  half  it  corresponds  nearly  to  that  in 
the  southern  hemisphere.  Sabineafterwardsconfirmed  and  extended 
his  conclusions  regarding  the  semiannual  inequality  by  discussing  the 
results  obtained  at  the  various  colonial  magnetic  ohser\'atoric^.  More 
recently,  as  the  result  of  twelve  years'  observations  at  Trc-\andrum, 
at  an  observatory  established  by  the  rajah  of  Travancore,  Joiin 
Allan  Broun  gave  in  a  very  complete  form  the  laws  of  change 
of  the  solar-diurnal  variation  of  magnetic  declination  near  the 
equator,  showing  the  extinction  of  the  mean  movement  near  the 
equinox. 

42.  Perhaps  the  best  way  of  exhibiting  what  really  takes  place  is 
the  following,  which  is  that  adopted  by  Sabine. 

The  mean  annual  value  of  the  solar-diurnal  variation  is  of  what 
may  be  called  the  northerly  tjTie  in  places  of  middle  latitude  in  the 
northern  hcmis|>l:cre,  and  of  what  may  be  called  the  southerly  type 
in  places  of  middle  latitude  in  the  southern  hemisphere.  Kow  let 
ns  take  a  nonaem  station,  and  consider  the  mean  form  of  its  solar- 
diumal  variation  fcr  tho  six  months  beginning  with  the  vernal 
equinox.  Here  we  shall  have  an  oscillation  of  the  northerly  type 
with  a  range  greater  than  the  annual  range.  For  these  six  months, 
therefore,  we  may  imagine  that  the  annual  range  has  been  s-apple- 
mented  by  the  superposition  on  it  of  a  variation  with  a  type  similar 
to  its  own.  At  the  same  station,  during  the  other  six  months,  the 
eolar-diurnal  variation  is  less  than  the  mean  of  the  year,  as  if  the 
annual  variation  had  been  depressed  by  the  superposition  on  it  of  a 
variation  with  a  type  the  opposite  of  its  own,  that  is  to  say,  with  a 
southerly  type.  At  a  station  in  the  southern  hemisphere,  again, 
the  mean  annual  form  of  tho  solar-diurnal  oscillation  is  of  the 
southerly  type,  reluced  during  the  six  months  beginning  mth  the 
venial  equinox  by  the  superposition  on  it  of  a  variation  of  northerly 
type,  and  increased  during  the  other  six  months  as  if  by  the  super- 
position of  a  variation  of  southerly  type.  Thus  when  the  sun  is 
north  of  the  equator  we  may  superpose  a  variation  of  the  northerly 
type  upon  both  hemispheres,  with  the  effect  of  increasing  the  ra^go 
in  the  northern  hemisphere  and  diminishing  it  in  the  southern  ; 
and  while  the  sun  is  south  of  the  equator  we  may  superpose  a  varia- 
tion of  the  southern  ty[>e  upon  both  hemisphcrcii,  with  the  effect  of 
diminishing  the  range  in  the  northern  and  increasing  it  in  the 
southern  hemis[ihere. 

Near  the  equator,  an  at  Trevandmm,  where  Bronn  made  his 
observations,  we  find  the  mean  annual  v.ilnc  of  the  sokr-diurnal 
variation  to  bo  extremely  small,  if  not  altogether  evanescent. 
During  the  six  months  beginning  with  tho  vernal  equinox  the  typo 
is  entirely  northerly,  while  for  the  remaining  si:;  months  of  the  year 
it  is  entirely  southerly  in  character.  In  fine,  at  this  station  the 
solar-diumal  variation  chances  its  character  at  the  equinoxes,  at 
which  time  we  have,  as  already  observed,  an  extinction  of  the  mean 
movement, — not  indeed  an  absence  of  all  variation,  but  rather  a 


LTEKCrSTEIAL  HAGKSTISM^ 

variation  having  .m  nndccided  character,  which  for  a  few  days  may 
be  of  one  tj-pe  and  then  of  tha  very  opposite.  There  is  movement 
but  no  moan  movement.  *  -^ 

43.  In  the  following  table  (V.)  the  solar-diumal  variation  is 
given  for  Kew,  Trevandrum,  and  Hobart  Town.  Of  them- 
places  the  first  denotes  a  station  in  middle  latitude  (northern 
hemisphere),  the  second  an  equatorial  station,  and  tho  third  a 
station  in  middle  latitude  (southern  hemisphere). 


•a 

i| 

Sew. 

Trevandrum, 

Hobart  Town.        1 

April 

°,'^      Whole  1 

April 

Oct 

Whole 

April 

Oct. 

to 

March. 

Whole 

< 

Sept. 

Slarch. 

Vear. 

Sept. 

March. 

Year. 

Sept. 

Year. 

c 

-CIS 

-412 

-5-13 

-1-30    -fO-07    -0-CI 

4-0-35 

4-2  35 

4-1-35 

1 

-7-42 

-4« 

-CIO 

—1-25     -1-0-S5 

-0-45 

4-4-S5 

4-3-50 

2 

-6-M 

-4-C7 

-5-Sl 

-0-S5     -1-0-5G 

-0-15 

4-3-15 

4-5-95 

4-4-65 

3 

-5-21 

-3-3-> 

-4-23 

-0-35     -1-OCl 

-1-0-13 

4-3-30 

4-5-60 

4-4-40 

4 

-3-25 

-1-05 

-2-CO 

-1-0-03    -1-0-53 

+0-2S 

4-2-40 

4-4-30 

4-3-35 

S 

-147 

-l-O-S    -1-26 

-1-0-15     •fO-33 

4-0-24 

4-1-30 

4-2-70 

4-2-00 

e 

-n-02 

-9-40 

-0-39 

-1-0-05    -1-0-22 

-1-0-13 

4-0-75 

4-1-5S 

4-1-15 

7 

4-0-22 

-fO-21 

-fO-22 

-0-15    4-0-.'3 

4-0^14 

4-0-20 

4  OfO 

4-0-60 

8 

-fO-44 

-fO-92 

-HO-68 

-0-30    -1-0-19    -0-05 

-0-.-!0 

4-0-30 

4-0-00 

9 

-)-0-52 

-n-45 

-fO-09 

-0-28  1  -1-0-13  1  -009 

-0-65 

-0-25 

-0-55 

10 

-)-0-70 

-n-77 

-n-24 

-0-20 

-1-0-09 

-0-oc 

-1  10 

-0-70 

-090 

11 

-HO -90 

-fl-84 

-i-1-37 

-007 

-j-O-IO 

4-Ofll 

-1-15 

-0  85 

-100 

I-' 

■fllO 

-fl-C7 

4-1-43 

-1-0-07 

-1-011 

4-009 

-1-10 

-0-EO 

-0-05 

13 

+  1-Q3 

-1-134 

•4-1-20 

-HO-18 

-fO-03 

4-0-13 

-0-75 

-0-75 

-0-75 

14 

-t-I-55 

-fl-22 

-H-3D 

-i-0-27 

-HO-02  ;  -1-0-15 

-0-40  1  -0-70 

-0-55 

15 

-nor. 

-rl-OO 

-1-1-51 

-1-0-29 

-0-11  1  -1-009 

-015  1  -005 

-0-10 

IB 

-(-2-69 

-i-ii; 

•1-1-88 

-1-0-31 

-0-23 

4-0-02 

-0-02  1  -0-78 

-040 

17 

-f3-C0 

-n-43 

-i-2-51 

-t-0-4S 

-0-45 

-l-OOl 

-010 

-1-40 

-0-7; 

13 

-f4  59 

+1-54 

-f3-07 

-t-1-02 

— 0C6 

4-0-18 

-0-23 

-2-37 

-ISO 

10 

4-5-31 

-1-1-8^; 

-1-3-58 

-1-1-48 

-0-81 

4-0-32 

-0-50 

-3-80 

-2-15 

10 

-h5-20 

■f2-40 

-4-3-50 

-1-1-20 

—0-73 

4-0  2! 

-125 

-5-25 

SI 

-1-3-57 

-H2-32 

-1-2-05 

•fO-47 

-0-3? 

4-0-OS 

-2-10 

-5-30 

-3-70 

22 

■f0-3S 

-fO-54 

-1-0-40 

-0-32 

-0-13 

-0-22 

-2-20 

-3-SO 

-soO 

23 

-3-lS 

-2-lS 

-2-68 

-0-93  1  -0-07 

-0-50 

-1-40 

-0-80  1  -1-151 

«  See  Walker,  Terrestrial  and  Cotmical  Afa^etism. 

*  ThU  ii  the  namo  used  by  Sabine,  tat  iu  appropriateness  toaj  perhaps  bo 
qaettloaed. 


In  this  table  deflexions  to^-^ards  magnetic  east  are  reckcned  positive;  deflexion* 
towards  mapieilc  west  negative.    The  etale  is  in  minutes  of  arc 

Also  in  fig.  33  we  have  a  graphical  representation  of  the  solar- 
diumal  variation  for  the  whole  yeajr  at  these  three  stations,  from 
which  it  will  be  seen  that  the  range  at  Trevandrum  is  extremely 
small,  and  that  the  cun-e  for  Hobart  Town  is  opposite  in  appearanca 
to  that  at  Kew. 


y 

\ 

■«. 

O-O 

\ 

^.^- — 

— - 

''•■ 

' 

\; 

/ 

'                 h\ 

Ir,. 

^^ 

\ 

/ 

.io 

THeVAUOHUM. 

1 

1 

^^ 

0-0 

'h'/„. 

~    h\ 

»5-0 

HOBARTOVlft 

-j'o 

r 

^- 

— ! — "  "   s 

1 

J 

^ 

r^ 

J 

1 

Fig.  33. 

Finally,  in  fii;.  31  Tve  have  a  graphical  representation  of  the  semi- 
annual inenua'.ity  or  difference  from  the  whole  year's  mean  of  the  tv> 
half-yearly  means  of  Table  V.,  tho  one  half-year  (that  with  thick 
lines)  commencing  at  tho  vernal  and  the  other  at  the  autumnal 
equinox.  It  will  be  seen  from  this  figure  that  the  semiannual 
inequality -is  of  tho  same  character  in  both  hemispheres,  the  likeness 
extending  even  to  its  minor  peculiarities.  i 

44.  Channc  from  Monlh  to  J/oii(A. —Charles  Cliarabers,  director 
of  the  Kola'ba  Observatory,  Bombay,  remarks  { Trans.  Jtoy.  Soc,\ 
December  10,  ISCS)  that  "the  rcgtilar  pr  g.-cssion  from  monU 
to  month  in  tho  diumal  variation  is  so  distinctly  shown  m  tje 
Bombay  observations  as  to  lead,  on  a  first  inspection,  to  tho 
supposition  that  the  law  of  variation  is  identical  throughout  th» 
year,  the  extent  only  (including  a  reversal  of  direction)  varying  fiom, 
month  to  mouth.  But  in  this  respect  a  lUITcrent  einosiuon  of  tli« 
character  of  tho  variation  in  dilferent  months  shows  that  the 
first  thought  would  be  inaccurate."    Ho  Uicu  proceeds  to  <hMxm, 


TEBBESTBIAL  MAOXETISM.] 


METEOROLOGY 


at  length  the  montlilv  values  of  the  solarJiumal  Tariation  at 
Bombay.  Broun  has  likewise  (Trevandrum  observations)  discussed 
«t  length  the  solar-diurnal  variation  at  the  Trevandrum  Observa- 
tory. It  would  hardly  b«  of  service  to  reproduce  here  the  results 
of  these  discussions;  but  when  such  analyses  become  sufEcicutly 


.j'-5  — 

KEW 

'^ 

C\^ 

F 

0         ^^ 

"^ 

1      ^ ^ 

><- 

^ 

TncvA 

ton 

-J 

5^ 

fr,                -< 

vy^ 

'" 

/.oe../;r; 

!il 

«J 

^T^N, 

,     / 

^ 

T' 

, 

\y 

1 

Fig.  34. 

extensive  theyvmay  be  expected  to  throw  light  upon  the  cause  of 
the  solar-diurnal  variation. 

In  the  following  table  wo  have  mean  monthly  values  of  the  declin- 
ation range  at  the  Kcw  Observatory  corresponding  to  forty-eight 
points  in  the  year — derived  from  sixteen  years'  observations: — 

Table  VI.— Containing  Monthly  Means  («ni<-22'04) /or  Forty- 
tight  Points  in  the  Year  of  the  Kcw  SoIar-DiurTial  Declination 
Banges.  Thus  Janwxry  (0)  gives  the  monthly  mean  of  which  the 
middle  dale  is  the  very  commencement  of  the  year,  January  (1) 
thatjor  one  week  after  the  commencement,  and  so  on. 


McanVohie. 

Mean  Value. 

JfaiaTslQct 

Jan.     (0) 

■012 

MST 

(0) 

•J99 

Sept.  (0) 

•;94 

(1) 

•323 

(1 

681 

(I) 

•i77 

(2) 

-340 

(2 

•573 

(2 

K4 

(3) 

•362 

(3 

■iS6 

(3 

•532 

Feb.     (0) 

•3£5 

(0 

■SM 

Oct.    (0 

•613 

(I) 

•401 

0) 

•COS 

(1 

•40«          1 

(2) 

•418 

(2 

•CIO 

(2 

■478 

(3) 

•438 

<3 

•604 

(3) 

•463          1 

ICarch  (0) 

•467 

Juljr 

(0) 

■601 

Not.  (0) 

■445 

("> 

•508 

fl) 

•i07 

(<) 

-418          ; 

(2) 

•54S 

m 

■501 

<2) 

•339          1 

(3) 

•5ST 

M) 

•503 

<3) 

•360          ] 

April   (0) 

CIS 

Aug. 

(0) 

•504 

Dec.  (0) 

•340         1 

<1) 

6.12 

(1) 

•COl 

(1) 

•322 

(2) 

639 

(■-') 

■611 

(2) 

•308         1 

(3) 

■620 

<3) 

•606 

(3 

•303         1 

It  will  bo  seen  from  this  table  that,  while  we  have  a  ma.timum 
about  the  summer  and  a  minimum  about  the  winter  solstice,  wo 
have  unmistakable  indications  of  maxima  at  or  about  the  equinoxes. 
This  does  not  take  place  at  a  tropical  station  such  as  Trevandrum. 

45.  Behaviour  near  the  Magnetic  Pole. — Figs.  33  and  34  exhibit 
the  most  prominent  features  of  the  solar-diurnal  variation  of  declina- 
tion in  the  extra-tropical  regions  of  the  northern  hemisphere.  If 
an  observer  stand  over  the  centre  of  the  needle  and  look  towards 
thf  marked  end,  or  that  which  points  to  the  north,  he  \vill  perceive  a 
ddlcxion  towards  his  right  hand  which  will  reach  its  extreme  about 
8  A.M.  and  a  deflexion  towards  his  left  hand  which  will  reach  its 
extreme  about  2  P.M.  But  are  these  deflexions  to  the  right  and 
left  liand  of  geographical  or  of  magnctical  north  ?  This  question 
has  beeu  answered  by  Sabine  in  his  discussion  of  the  results  of  hourly 
observations  of  the  magnetic  declination  at  Port  Kennedy  {Phil. 
Trans.,  1303,  p.  660).  This  station  is  72°  0'  49"  N.  lat.  and  94°  19' 
W.  long.,  and  here  the  marked  end  of  the  needle,  while  it  points 
towards  the  magnetic  pole,  points  in  reality  about  35°  to  the  west  of 
south.  Now  the  marked  end  of  the  needle  when  viewed  at  S  a.m. 
is  seen  at  Port  Kennedy  to  have  moved  to  the  geographical  west 
but  to  the  magnetical  east  It  would  thus  seem  that  tlf.oughout 
the  extra-tropical  regions  of  the  northern  hemisphere  the  8  A.M 
deflexion  of  the  needle  is  always  towards  the  magnetic  east  but  not 
always  towards  the  geographical  east,  while  the  deflexion  at  2  p.m. 
Jill  always  tend  towards  the  magnetical  west  but  not  always 
%wanls  the  geographical  west...  In  fine  the  oscillationa   hare 


ir.o 


reference  to  the  nnrth  niacrnetit  poliofthc  cartli  and  ml  lo  ihc 
north  Kco^n^pliical  pole.  No  observations  of  this  iiatun  !i:iVc  Wen 
made  in  the  sonthcrn  heniisphere. 

46.  Long-Period  Infqiudit Us  of  DfcUnaticA  Hautjf. — It  wa^  liiM 
observed  bv  Lnmont  tliat  the  yearly  values  ot  the  lUuriiai  range  of 
magnetic  deoliuatiou  at  iluniih  niesentcj  si;:pis  of  a  lonj'-pericd 
variation.  In  1S52  Sabine  {Vhit.  Trans.^  1&52,  y.  \^\  shoncd 
that  this  inequality  corrcapoiiJeJ  in  its  process  «iili  that  of  tho 
frequency  of  black  spots  on  the  surface  of  tlu-  sun. 

The  existence  of  black  spots  on  the  disk  of  the  sun  wa*  I0114  a;:© 
known  to  the  Cliinese.  In  Europe  they  wen  lirbt  srinrtihciiTy 
observed  after  the  invention  of  tlie  telescope,  and  it  \i33  dttluccd 
from  their  bebaviour  that  tJie  sun  revoUis  abont  his  axis  in  about 
twenty-six  days,  liofratli  Schwabo  of  Dessau,  from  1  long  s*  rics  of 
forty  ycaiV  observations  of  the  sun,  was  the  first  to  show  that  1I19 
state  of  the  sun's  surface  as  reganis spots  was  not  uniform,  hut  tliat 
their  frequency  was  subject  to  an  inequality  the  a\ir;»f;e  i»piiod  ot 
which  was  about  eleven  jeais.  Other  inequnliiirs  botli  of  longer 
and  shorter  periods  have  beeu  supposed  to  exist,  but  the  ehvcn- 
yearly  period  is  the  Jnost  prominent  and  is  best  a:>:>uicd.  AilliougU 
the  sun-spot  catalogue  of  Schwabe  is  the  fn-st  with  preteu&iou»  to 
completeness,  yet  Professor  Rudolf  Wolf  has  endeavoured  to  render 
observations  of  sun-spots  made  at  ditferent  times  and  by.ditlereut 
observers  comiwrable  witli  ca^h  other,  and  has  formed  a  list  exhibit- 
ing approximately  the  relative  number  of  sun-spots  for  eacli  year. 
This  list  extends  back  into  tbe  17tli  centur}-,  and  is  of  great  value 
in  confirming  past  all  doubt  the  existence  of  Oie  eleven-yearly  jiei  iuil. 
It  will  appear  below  that  the  sun  is  probably  to  be  regarded  as 
giving  out  most  light  and  heat  at  those  times  nhcn  suu-sjK>t3  aic 
most  frequent.  The  most  acciirate  and  now  universally  adopted 
method  of  estimating  sun-spcts  is  to  take  the  spotted  area  exurc£s>cd 
in  millionths  of  the  sun's  visible  hemisphete. 

To  return  from  this  digression, — the  coircspondence  bctveen  snu- 
spots  and  declination  ranges  detected  by  Sabine  was  of  sucb  a  nature 
tr.^t  years  of  large  declination  range  agreed  with  those  of  many  suu- 
rpots,  and  vice  versa.  In  the  same  year  with  Sabine  (185'2)  Dt 
Rudolf  Wolf  and  M.  Gantier  independently  remarked  tlic  same  »,oia- 
cideuce.  Subsequent  discussions  have  entirely  confirmed  the  fact 
of  this  connexion,  and  in  May  1879  Williaju  Ellis  {Phil.  Trnn.t., 
1830,  p.  511)  showed  that  the  observations  made  at  the  Greenwich 
Observatory  during  the  years  1841-77  indicated  a  relation  of  Uiis 
nature  between  the  diurnal  ranges  of  horizontal  force  as  well  as  thoso 
of  magnetic  declination  on  the  oue  hand  and  the  amount  of  Eiin-i>j>ot 
frequency  on  the  other.  The  general  chaimeter  of  tlus  coincidcnca 
between  sun-spot  frequency  and  declination  range  is  exhibited 
graphically  in  fig.  39  below. 

47.  Ratios  of  ilangcs  in  Years  of  Maximum  aiia  Years  of  iliiU- 
'•miija  Sun-Spot  Frequency. — Broun  {Trans.  Roy.  Sac  uf  Edin.,  voL 

rxvii,)  has  shown  that  the  ratios  of  the  diunial  ranges  of  declination 
in  years  of  maximum  to  those  in  years  of  minimum  sun  spot 
frequency  for  places  widely  apart  on  the  surface  of  tlie  eartb  arc  very 
nearly  alike.     This  will  be  seen  from  the  foUowiag  table  :— 

Table  VII. — Ratios  cf  Declination  Ranges  in  Yeora  of  Maximum 
and  of  Minimum  Sun-Spot  Frequency 


f""         |S(S^)'          «--'•          1 

Paris 1  71 

Gottingca 174 

Munich ;        1-66 

Dublin  1        1-52 

Cassini  aud  Anga. 

Gauss. 

Laniont. 

Llovd. 

Kay. 

Younghosband  and  I^roy. 

Broun 

Toronto j        I'Sl 

Trevandrum j        1'56 

48.  Closeness  of  Corre.tpon'ic^ice — Lagging  behind  of  Jlangcs. — 
Stewart  has  shown  from  a  discussion  of  the  declination  mngcs  at 
Kew,  Trevandrum,  aud  Prague  (Aoc.  Pinj.  Soc,  Hnrdi  22,  1877, 
February  8,  1878,  May  16,  1678)  that  this  ccrresiwndeuce  lietw^cn 
the  state  of  the  suu's  surface  and  the  diurnal  range  of  declination 
extends  to  inequalities  of  shoit  period  as  well  os  to  tliat  of  nhicli 
the  period  is  approximately  eleven  years,  but  that  a  particular  st.itc 
of  the  sun's  surface  precedes  in  point  of  time  that  of  the  declination 
range  to  which  it  corresponds.  — in  line,  that  the  solar  cnuse  precedes 
the  terrestrial  effect,  which  latter  lags  behind  to  an  extent  that  i.i 
sometimes  considerable.  These  conclusions  have  been  confrrmed  by 
Ellis  {ut  supra),  and  have  likewise  beeu  extended  by  him  to  tho 
horizontal  force.  The  close  nature  of  this  correspondenre,  as  well 
as  the  lagging  behind  of  the  terrestrial  magnetic  effect,  will  be  seen 
from  fig.  35. 

There  oro  i;-.dications  that  this  lagging  behind  of  the  magnetic 
effect  is  greater  for  sun-spot  inetjualities  of  long  than  for  those  of 
short  period,  a  method  ot  behaviour  quite  similar  to  what  we  find 
in  meteorological  phenomena. 

49.  AtuUysis  of  Lmg-Pcriod  Inequalities.  —VTe  possess  no  snnspo* 

XYL  —  22 


M  E  T  EOROLOGY 


170 


(lata  sufficiently  accurate  for  a  discussion,  in  a  complete  manner,  of 
questions  relating  to  solar  periodicity  before  the  time  when  Schwahe 
Had  finally  matured  his  system  of  solar  observations,  which  was 
not  until  the  year  1832.  We  have,  however,  a  much  longer  series 
of  the  diuinal  ranges  of  magnetic  declination,  which  we  have  seen  to 


[terrestkial  magnetism. 


ISC 

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rig.  35. 

follow  very  closely  all  the  variations  of  sun-spot  frequency,  so  it 
is  conceivable  that  they  may  give  us  a  better  estimate  of  true  solar 
activity  than  that  which  can  be  derived  from  the  direct  measure- 
ment of  spotted  areas. 

•  These  considerations  have  induced  Messrs  Stewart  and  Dodgson 
to  attempt  an  analysis  of  the  diurnal  ranges  of  magnetic  declination, 
their  method  being  that  which  has  been  pm-sued  by  Baxendell  and 
probably  other  astronomers  with  observations  of  variable  stars.' 
The  observations  at  their  disposal  for  this  research  'were  those 
which  had  been  used 'by  Professor  Elias  Loomis  in  his  comparison 
of  the  mean  daily  range  of  the  magnetic  declination  with  the 
extent  of  the  black  spots  on  the  sun  [American  Jounwl  of  Science 
and  Arts,  vol.  1.  No.  cxlix.).  These  observations  are  recorded  as 
monthly  means  of  diurnal  declination  range,  and  it  was  found 
necessary  to  multiply  each  by  a  certain  factor,  first  on  account  of 
the  change  of  declination  range  from  one  month  to  another,  and 
secondly  to  bring  them  all  to  the  standard  of  the  Prague  observa- 
tions,— Prague  being  the  place  where  the  longest  series  of  such  obser- 
vations has  been  made.  For  this  latter  purpose  precisely  the  same 
corrections  were  applied  as  those  made  by  Professor  Loomis. 

The  result  of  this  analysis  has  been  to  indicate  the  existence  of 
three  inequalities, — two  dominant  ones  with  periods  of  about  ten 
{and  a  half  and  twelve  years,  and  a  subsidiary  one  mth  a  period  of 
ibout  sixteen  and  a  quarter  years.  By  these  means  the  obser\'ed 
annual  values  of  declination  range  have  been  reproduced  with  an 
average  error  of  39".  The  amount  of  agreement  between  the 
observed  and  calculated  values  wiU  be  seen  from  the  following 
diagrani  (fig.  36). 
'  tgO.    Notwithstanding  the  considerable  amount   of  agreement 


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>*  *  '  ■ 
fcetween  tho^Tresults  "of  observation  and  calculation  which  appears 
in  the  diagram,  it  would  seem  that  the  scries  of  observed  values 
at  present  obtainable  is  too  short  to  render  the  analysis  a  very 
accurate  one.-.k  It  will,  certainly  not  bear  carrying  back  forty 
or  fifty  years  beyond  its  starling  point,  which  was  in  1784,  and 
it   would   be  very  hazardous  to   carry  it  forward  any  consider- 


•  ftoc.  Lit,  and  Phil.  Stcicty  of  Manelielter,  Uarcb  8, 188L 


able  length  into  the  future.  It  will  be  seen  that  calculation- 
indicates  a  maximum  of  declination  range  about  1834,  but  not  ao 
pronounced  a  maximum  as  that  of  1871.  Here  then  we  havrf  a 
prevision  which  observation  will  either  fulfil  or  contradict,  giving 
us  a  practical  test  of  the  value  of  this  analysis. 

61.  The  remarks  now  made  would  seem  at  first  sight  to  imply 
that  wc  are  not  yet  fumished  with  sufficient  yearly  records  cither  of 
declination  ranges  or  of  accurate  sun-spot  observations  to  enable  us 
to  analyse  the  long-period  solar  inequalitj'  with  such  completenese 
as  to  carry  our  calculations  more  than  a  very  short  distance  into 
the  future  with  any  chance  of  success,  and  that  we  may  have  to 
wait  for  another  hundred  years*  observations  before  we  are  able  to 
do  so.  On  reflection,  however,  it  would  seem  tlxat  long-period 
inequalities  may  bo  caused  by  the  superposition  of  those  of  short 
period,  and  thus  that  an  analysis  of  the  latter  may  lead  to  that  of 
the  former.  It  would  relieve  us  if  this  were  found  tobe  th6_caiie  i 
for  the  observations  at  our  disposal  may  be  sufficient  to  cnaoie  us 
completely  to  analyse  short-period  inequalities,  assuming  .that  we 
have  in  such  the  elements  of  a  true  periodicity. 

A  remark  made  by  the  authoi^s  of  the  above  analysis  would  seem 
to  indicate  that  a  connexion  of  this  nature  between  long  and  short 
periods  does  in  all  probability  exist.  It  is  a  well-known  fact  that 
the  so-called  eleven-yearly  oscillations  of  declination  range  are  at 
certain  times  large  and  at  other  times  small.  Thus,  for  instance 
they  have  been  large  for  the  last  forty  years,  but  they  were  small 
about  the  earlier  part  of  the  present  century.  Now  it  is  clear  from 
an  inspection  of  the  observations  (see  fig.  36)  that  a  series  of  large 
oscillations  is  accompanied  with  an  exaltation  of  the  base  line,  or 
line  denoting  average  efficiency,  while  a  series  of  small  oscillations 
is  accompanied  with  a  depression  of  the  same.  The  i-esult  is  a 
long-period  curve  of  the  base  line,  the  Beat  period,  so  to  speak,  of 
the  eleven-yearly  inequality. 

Now  a  phenomenon  precisely  similar  occurs  in  connexion  with 
shorter  periods.  If  we  take  inequalities  having  a  period  of  three  or  four 
months,  we  find  that  such  are  alternately  well-developed  or  of  large 
range  and  badly-devcloped  or  of  small  range,  ana  that  a  large 
range  of  such  is  accompanied  with  an  exaltation  of  the  base  line  or 
line  of  avci-age  efficiency,  while  a  small  range  is  accompanied  with 
a  depression  of  the  same.  The  result  is  a  cui-ve  of  the  base  lint  of 
which  the  period  is  roughly  speaking  eleven  years.  May  we  not 
therefore  imagine  that  the  so-called  eleven-yearly  period,  or,  to  s^eak 
more  correctly,  the  ten  and  a  half  and  twelve-yearly  periods  into 
which  the  eleven-yearly  period  may  perhaps  be  analysed,  may  be 
in  reality  beat  periods  for  shorter  disturbances  ?  Is  it  not  there- 
fore possible  that  a  study  of  these  shorter  periods  may  give  us. 
information  regarding  the  natiu-e  of  the  eleven-yearly  period,' 
whether  for  sun-spots  or  declination  ranges,  which  the  small  series 
of  actual  obsen'ations  is  incompetent  to  afford  ?  , 

52,  Declination-Range  Weather. — Allusion  has  already  been 
made  to  magnetical  weather  as  perhaps  having  laws  similar  in  some 
respects  to  those  which  regulate  meteorological  weather-  Now  tlie 
diurnal  ranges  of  magnetic  declinarion  and  those  of  atmospheric, 
temperature  present  us  with  elements  of  the  two  weathers  that  can' 
easily  be  discussed.  Again  there  is  strong  evidence  for  supposing 
that  an  element  of  meteorological  weather,  such,  for  instance,  as 
tempei-ature-range,  travels  as  a  rule  from  west  to  east,  so  that  a 
peculiar  style  of  temperature-range  might  bo  expected  to  appear 
fijst  in  America  and  some  days  afterwards  in  Great  Britain.  It 
becomes  therefore  a  question  for  inqufry  whether  this  travelling 
from  west  to  east  applies  also  to  magnetical  weather  as  evidenced  by, 
the  diurnal  declination-range.  Stewart  is  of  opinion  that  this  law 
of  travelling  applies  to  both,  but  that  magnetical  weather  travels 
faster  than  meteorological  (seeProc.  Roy.  Soc,  January  10,  October, 
23,1879,  and  June  9,  1881).  From  the  preliminary  discussion  made 
by  him  it  would  appear  that  Kew  lags  behind  Toronto  as  regards 
phase  of  magnetical  weather  by  1  -6  days,  that  Prague  lags  behind 
Kew  07  days,  and  that  Trevandnim  lags  behind  Kcw  by  97  days,! 
This  conclusion  cannot,  however,  be  regarded  as  established  untilj 
it  is  confirmed  by  a  more  complete  discussion  of  observations.  , 

53.  Disturbance. Diurnal  Variation  of  Declination.— t^agnetie 
storms  (i  38)  were  so  named  by  Baron  Humboldt,  one  of  the  first 
observers  of  such  phenomena.  From  observations  at  Paris,  Berlin/ 
and  Freiburg  he  found  that  very  frequently,  though  not  universally,' 
these  three  stations  were  simultaneously  affected  by  sucli  storms.' 
The  observation  of  magnetic  disturbances  was  aftcrivards  pursued 
in  a  systematic  manner  by  Gauss  and  Weber  of  Gottingcn.  'Term 
days  were  insritutod  for  this  i>urpose  by  these  observers,— that  is  to 
say,  periods  e.ich  of  twenty -four  hours  length  during  which  ob-serva 
tions  were  simultaneously  made  at  intervals  of  live  mmutes  at 
Gottingen  and  about  twenty  other  stations  distributed  genemlly, 
over  the  continent  of  Europe.  Finally,  the  establishment  by  tho 
British  Government  of  the  colonial  magnetic  observatories,  and  tho 
energy  and  sagacity  of  their  director.  Sir  E.  Babino,  have  very 
greatly  increased  our  knowledge  of  these  remarkable  pheiiomona.  .• 

Sabine  has  not  merely  separated  the  disturbed  from  the  unais- 
turbed  observations  as  explained  in  §  38,  but  ho  has  divided  tlio 
former  into  two  categories— (1)  those  tending  to  increase  westerly 


TBKBESTSIAL  MAGNXXISV.] 


ME  T  E  0  R  0  L  O  G  Y 


171 


declination  and  cither  clemeat  of  force,  aid  (2)  those  tending  to 
diminish  the  same.  He  finds  that  t^aaa  two  categories  obey 
different  laws,  from  which  he  arguaa  that  there  are  at  least  two  sets 
pf  disturbing  forces.  In  fact,  if  we  have  to  give  up  the  idea  of  a  single 
force  of  constant  type,  it  is  natural  to  ask  if  the  phenomena  of  dis- 
iturbance  can  bo  approximately  represented  as  due  to  the  united 
action  of  two  independent  types  of  force.  It  was  probably  some 
such  idea  that  led  Sabine  to  separate  disturbances  into  these  two 
categories  above  mentioned.  Here  there  is  no  attempt  to  assert 
that  these  two  types  represent  an  ultimate  and  complete  analysis 
of  the  forces  concerned.  We  merely  use  the  separation  as  the  most 
convenient  method  at  our  disposal  in  the  present  state  of  our  know- 
ledge for  ascertaining  whetner  there  be  indications  of  a  dual 
system. 

5i.  }UsttU$  in  the  JSorthem  ScTnisphere. — Sabine's  method  of 
viewing  the  phenomena  has  enabled  him  to  obtain  the  disturbance- 
.diomal  variation  for  the  following  stations  :- 

lew bV  jyif.  lit. 

Peking 39   M  K.    „ 

Nertchinsk 51    19  N.    „ 

Toronto « „ 43   40  N.    ^ 

Port  Kennedy „ T2   01  N.    „ 

Point  BiTTOW n   21  N.    „ 

The  above  stations  have  been  so  chosen  that  Kcw  may  be 
regarded  as  on  one  side  and  Peking  and  Nertchinsk  as  probably  on 
the  other  side  of  the  Asiatic  pole,  while  Toronto  may  ne  regarded 
»s  on  one  side  and  Port  Kennedy  and  Point  Barrow  as  on  the  other 
side  of  the  American  pole  (§  29).  The  q^uestion  as  to  what 
influence,  if  any,  these  poles  have  upon  the  disturbance-diumal 
variation  of  declination  is  thus  one  which  may  be  answered  by 
examining  the  results  obtained  at  these  various  stations.  For  this 
purpose,  instead  of  recording  the  aggregate  disturbances  at  the 
various  hours,  the  result  is  expressed  in  ratios, — the  mean  hourly 
ratio  for  the  day  being  taken  as  unity,  or  in  other  words  the  whole 
N>dy  of  disturbances  for  the  twenty-four  hours  being  reckoned  as 
twenty-four.  The  results  of  this  method  are  graphically  represented 
in  fig.  37,  where  in  the  left-hand  curves  Kew  time  is  used,  and 
in  the  right-hand  curves  local  time,  each  starting  at  0''.' 


(r    8"  W.  long, 
lie    s  E.    „ 

114  9  E.  „ 

79  0  W.  „ 

94  20  W.  ., 

158  15  W.  „ 


Kg.  37. 


55.  At  all  the  various  stations  one  curve  exhibits  unmistakably 
a  single  progression,  while  the  other  exhibits  more  or  less  dis- 
tinctly a  double  progression.     At  Kew,  Toronto,  Port  Kennedy, 

"  If  we  refer  to  &  paper  by  C.  Cbunbeni,  director  of  Bombay  Observatory 
(FA«  Tram.,  1868),  it  will  be  aeen  that  aerly  distnrbancea  at  Bombay  pre- 
sent the  same  characteristics  aa  westerly  ».Teldng  or  Nertchlnsk,  the  maximum 
toeing  aboot  tweot^'-two  or  tweotv-tbree  boiua  Bombay  astronomical  time. 


and  Point  Barrow  it  is  the  easterly  disturbances  which  exhibit 
this  single  progression ;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  at  Peking  and 
Nertchinsk,  stations  which  are  oppositely  related  to  the  Asiatic 
magnetic  centre,  it  is  the  westerly  disturbances  which  do  so.  It 
is  imagined  by  Sabine  and  others  that  tliis  peculiar  reversal  is  due 
to  the  fact  that  Kew  and  its  associated  stations  may  be  regarded  as 
on  one  side  and  Peking  and  Kertchinsk  as  on  the  other  side  of 
the  movable  magnetic  system. 

Sabine  has  likewise  remarked  that  the  single-progression  curves, 
whether  denoting  easterly  or  westerly  disturbances,  exhibit  maxima 
which  take  place  not  far  from  the  same  absolute  time.  We  have 
therefore  plotted  all  the  left-hand  curves  according  to  Kew  time, 
that  the  eye  may  readily  see  the  amount  of  simultaueity  which  their 
corresponding  phases  exhibit  It  will  be  noticed  that  there  is  a  very 
striking- simultaneity  between  the  maxima  of  Kew,  Toronto,  Peking, 
and  Nertchinsk,  but  that  the  maxima  for  Port  Kennedy  and  Point 
Barrow,  while  both  occurring  about  the  same  time,  fall  at  a  time 
decidedly  if  not  very  great^  different  from  that  of  the  other 
mftTiTnfl  Indeed  the  time  of  maximimi  for  Port  Kennedy  and 
Point  Barrow  is  not  far  from  the  time  of  minimum  for  the  other 
stations.  Now  it  has  been  noticed  by  Sabine  that  Port  Kennedy 
and  Point  Barrow  may  be  regarded  as  on  one  side  of  the  American 
magnetic  centre  of  intensity,  while  Toronto  and  the  other  asso- 
ciated stations  are  on  the  other  side.  It  seems  therefore  possible  to 
connect  this  last  fact  with  the  change  in  the  time  of  maximum. 
Sabine  has  likewise  remarked  that  the  aggregate  amount  of  dis- 
turbances is  much  greater  at  Point  Barrow  than  at  any  other 
station.  Now  Point  Barrow  is  likewise  that  spot  where  auroras 
are  most  frequent.  Thus  in  the  phenomena  we  arc  now  discussing 
there  is  first  of  all  a  marked  reference  to  the  Asiatic  pole  ;  secondly,  a 
reference  not  so  marked,  perhaps,  to  the  American  pole ;  and  thirdly, 
a  reference  to  the  centre  of  auroral  activity.  Sabine,  whose  experi- 
ence of  such  matters  is  very  great,  appears  to  think  most  of  the 
reference  of  these  phenomena  to  the  Asiatic  pole.  He  thinks 
that  "of  the  two  magnetic  systems  which  are  distinctly  recog- 
ni2able  in  the  magnetism  of  the  globe  one  has  a  terrestrial  and 
the  other  a  cosmical  source,"  and  that  it  is  "the  latter  of  these 
two  systems  which,  by  its  progressive  translation,  gives  rise  to  the 
phenomena  of  secular  change  and  to  those  magnetic  cycles  which 
owe  their  origin  to  the  operation  of  the  secular  change,"  con- 
curring with  the  conclusion  of  "Walker  that  "  the  magnetic 
influence  at  any  point  of  the  globe  isi^e  result  of  two  distinct 
magnetic  systems,  the  principal  of  whitm  is  the  magnetism  proper 
of  the  globe,  having  its  (northern)  point  of  greatest  attraction  in 
the  north  of  the  American  continent,  whilst  the  weaker  system 
is  that  which  results  from  the-  magnetism  induced  in  the  earth 
by  cosmical  action,  and  of  which  the  northern  point  of  greatest 
attraction  is  at  present  in  the  north  of  the  Asiatic  continent.  Thus 
the  direction  of  the  magnet  at  any  point  results  from  the  super- 
position of  these  two  systems,  the  nearest  pole  being  always  pre- 
dominant over  the  more  remote "  (/"AtX  Trans.,  1868).  'While  dis- 
posed to  think  that  something  of  this  nature  should  be  accepted 
as  a  working  hypothesis,  we  would,  however,  point  out  that  the 
Asiatic  pole  cannot  be  regarded  as  accounting  for  all  the  pheno- 
mena of  disturbances,  but  uiat  the  focus  of  disturbance  is  probably 
nearer  the  focus  of  auroras  than  it  is  to  either  of  the  foci  of 
magnetic  intensity. 

The  right-hand  cunes  representing  these  disturbance-diumal 
variations  which  have  two  maxima  are,  except  for  Port  Kennedy 
and  Point  Barrow,  decidedly  irregular.  Sabine  remarks  also  that, 
instead  of  having  a  reference  to  absolute  time  like  those  with  one 
progression,  their  reference  is  rather  to  local  time.  "We  have  therefore 
plotted  all  these  curves  according  to  local  time  ;  nevertheless  this 
reference  does  not  come  out  with  very  great  distinctness ;  but  it 
must  be  remembered  that  our  analysis  of  disturbances  into  easterly 
and  westerly,  although,  in  the  hands  of  Sabine,  it  has  given  us  much 
new  information,  has  no  claim  to  be  regarded  as  final  and  complete. 

56.  Results  in  the  Southern  Bemitphere. — Table  VIII.  shows 
the  disturbance-diumal  variation  of  declination  exhibited  for  St 
Helena,  15°  56'-7  S.  lat.,  6°  40'b  W.  long.;  Cape  of  Good  Hope, 
33°  66'  S.  lat.,  18°  28'-75  "W.  long.;  Hobart  "Town,  42°  52' 5  .S. 
lat.,  147°  27'-5  E.  long. 

At  St  Helena  and  the  Cape  the  easterly  disturbances  present  the 
appearance  of  a  single  progression,  while  the  same  remark  slightly 
modified  applies  to  the  easterly  disturbances  at  Hobart  Town.  Again 
the  times  of  easterly  maxima  for  St  Helena  and  the  Cape  are  very 
nearly  simultaneous,  while  Hobart  Town,  which  we  may  regard  as 
situated  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  chief  southern  magnetic  centre 
from  St  Helena  and  the  Cape,  has  its  maximum  nearly  coincident 
in  absolute  time  with  the  minimum  of  the  other  two  stations.  It 
would  thus  seem  that  the  chief  magnetic  centre  of  the  south  is 
similar  in  its  action  as  regards  these  phenomena  to  the  chief  mag- 
netic centre  of  the  north.  Again  the  absolute  time  of  single  maxi- 
mum for  the  south  as  determined  by  St  Helena  and  the  Cape  is 
about  twelve  hours  different  from  the  corresponding  time  for  the 
north  as  determined  by  Kew,  Toronto,  Peking,  and  Nertchinsk. 
All  this  is  in  favour  of  the  working  hypothesis  already  mentioned- 


172 


METEOROLOGY' 


[TERnEITriAL  MAONETISJt. 


Local 
Aelio- 
nomlco] 

St  Helena. 

Cape  of  Good  Hope. 

HobJirt  Town. 

Enstcrly 

Westerly 

Easterly 

Westerly 

Easterly 

Westerly 

Uati03. 

Hatigs. 

liatlos. 

Ratios. 

Ratios. 

0 

3-24 

2-46 

21 

1-6 

114 

1 

317 

2-39 

21 

1-2 

1-20 

3 

2-79 

1-68 

I  11 

10 

1-32 

071 

3 

200 

1-44 

10 

0-8 

4 

0-89 

1-29 

0-S 

0-7 

1-39 

6 

0-34 

0-70 

0-4 

OS 

1-32 

0-52 

e 

0-14 

0-45 

0-4    ■ 

0-8 

1-10 

0-72 

7 

00^ 

0-50 

01 

1-2 

0C2 

104 

8 

003 

0-44 

01 

1-2 

9 

0-03 

0-37 

0-3 

13 

0'.32 

•■!? 

0  07 

0-43 

01 

11 

0-28 

1.  66 

11 

0  00 

0-42 

0-2 

0-8 

0-74 

i-31 

13 

000 

0-31 

0-3 

0-7 

0-C2 

000 

0-32 

0-4 

00 

0-55 

1-72 

001 

0-24 

0-2 

0-8 

0C3 

1-62 

000 

0-29 

0-4 

0-5 

0-85 

1-26 

000 

0-23 

0-4 

0-4 

1-07 

0-84 

008 

024 

0-5 

0-4 

0-87 

0-47 

0-39 

0-42 

10 

0-8 

1-02 

0-44 

0-87 

0-89 

1-8 

1-3 

1-53 

0-63 

1-62 

IM 

2-3 

1-4 

1-58 

0-70 

2-61 

1'72 

2-3 

1-7 

1-41 

8-08 

2-21 

2-6 

1-8 

1-27 

2-78 

200 

2-7 

1-7 

1-24 

0-62 

Finally,  tlio  westerly  disturbances  at  the  three  southern  stations  bear 
greater  marks  of  a  double  progression  and  of  irregularity  just  as  they 
did  in  the  northern  hemisphere,  and  moreover  like  their  northern 
analogues  they  are  regulated  by  local  rather  than  by  absolute  time. 
;  67.  Distrihuticm  of  Declination  Disturbance  over  the  Various 
Months  of  the  Year. — Broun  was  probably  the  first  to  remark  in 
reducing  the  Makerstoun  observations  that  the  disturbances  wero 
greatest  at  the  equinoxes  and  least  at  the  solstices.  His  method 
was  to  find  for  each  month  the  mean  diurnal  inequality,  and  then 
to  consider  the  difference  of  each  individual  observation  from  the 
monthly  mean  for  that  hour  as  a  disturbance,  the  summation  of  all 
Buch  differences  for  the  month  denoting  the  monthly  dishirbance 
value.  The  following  table  embodies  the  results  at  various 
Btations— those  at  Toronto,  Hobart  Town,  and  the  Cape  being 
,given  by  Sabine,  and  that  at  Bombay  by  C.  Chambers,  who  has 
pursued  Sabine's  method  of  separating  disturbances : — 

Table  IX. — Monthly  Distribution  of  Declination  Disturbances. 


Jiinuary... 

Mareh 

ApiU 

May 

July..."!.'.'!! 

August 

September 
Oetciber.... 
November 
December. 


58.  A  careful  inspection  of  this  table,  without  attempting  a  more 
complete  analysis,  will,  it  is  thought,  lead  to  tho  following  con- 
clusions : — 

(1)  Although  for  any  station  tho  distribution  of  tho  easterly  dLs- 
turbances  over  the  various  hours  of  tho  day  is  generally  difl'crcnt 
Jroin  that  of  tho  westerly,  yet  tho  same  law  of  distribution  over  the 
Various  months  of  the  year  is  followed  by  tho  easterly  and  by  tho 
Westerly  disturbances  at  any  station— tho  law  at  one  station  being, 
Ihowover,  different  from  that  at  another. 

(2)  In  all  stations  there  is  first  an  annual  inequality  exhibiting 
a  maximum  generally  a  short  time  after  the  summer  solstice  villi  a 
corresponding  minimum  for  tho  winter  solstice,  and  secondly  a  semi- 
annual inequality  exhibiting  a  maximum  generally  a  little  after  each 
equinox. 

(3)  Tho  equinox  maximum  is  very  conspicuous  at  Toronto;  but 
ixe  summer  maximum  is  most  conspicuous  at  tho  other  stations. 

69.  In  §  38  it  was  observed  that  the  observations  selected  as  dis- 
ti>'bed  at  any  station  may  nevertheless  Iio  a  mixture  of  what  may  bo 
termed  true  disturbances  and  of  the  moro  prominent  specimens  of 
taagnetic  weather.  Tho  truth  of  this  statement  would  appear  to  bo 
■borne  out  by  tho  laws  now  given.  In  one  of  these  wo  fintf  that  dis- 
tnrbanecs,  at  all  stations,  have  a  maximum  about  tho  time  of  Iho 
^urnmer  solstice  and  a  eorretipondiiig  minimum  about  the  tinio  of  the 
viutur  solstice,     But  the  absolute  time  of  tho  summer  solstieo  for 


stations  north  of  tho  equator  corresponds  with  tliat  of  tho  winter 
solstice  for  stations  south  of  the  lino.  It  would  therefore  appear 
that  .in  so  far  as  this  law  is  concerned  such  disturbances  lack  the 
element  of  simultaneity.  On  tho  other  hand,  a  law  of  this  nature 
would  naturally  hold  for  magnetic  weather.  i"or  at  any  station  tho 
diurnal  lange  of  declination  is  greatest  at  the  summer  solstice,  and 
hence  any  considerable  proportional  variation  of  this  v.-ould,  if  repre- 
sented by  a  fixpd  scale,  present  the  appearance  of  being  greatest 
likewise  at  this  time.  The  question  thus  arises  whether  this  law 
docs  not  rather  apply  to  magnetic  weather  than  to  real  disturbance. 

Again  the  semiannual  inerjuality  of  disturbance  exhibits  through- 
out the  globe  a  maximum  at  the  equinoxes,  and  thus  presents  the 
element  of  simultaneity  which  was  wanting  in  the  annual  This 
law  may  thercforo  refer  to  true  disturbance,  and  this  view  is  sup- 
ported by  the  fact  that  tho  aurora — which  may  be  regarded  as  tnrf 
universal  accompaniment  of  great  and  simultaneous  d!isturbauces— • 
obeys,  as  we  shall  afterwards  see,  in  those  stations  whcro  it  ba» 
b?eu  well  observed,  this  very  same  law,  that  is  to  say,  it  has  lik©- 
vnao  maxima  at  the  equinoxes. 

60.  Distribution  of  Decliiiation  Disturbances  over  Various  Tears. 
—In  1852  Sabine  discovered  [Phil.  Trans.,  1852,  p.  103)  that  dis- 
turbances have  a  long-period  inequality  allied  to  that  of  sun-spots 
in  such  a  way  that  a  maximum  and  a  minimum  of  disturbance 
coincide  with  a  maximum  and  a  minimum  of  sun-spot  frequency. 

This  will  bo  seen  from  the  following  table  (X.),  in  which  we 
have  tho  relative  values  of  declination  distm'bance  at  Toronto 
and  Hobart  Town  compared  with  the  number  of  groups  of  spots 
observed  ou  the  sun's  disk  : — 


Values  of  DecUnatioD  Disturbance. 

G roups  of 

Toronto. 

Hobart  Town. 

1843 

0-55 

0-48 

31 

1844 

073 

0-82 

62 

1845 

0-62 

0  67 

lU 

1846 

1-20 

1-03 

157 

1847 

1-40 

1-44 

257 

1848 

1-43 

1-60 

830 

61.    The   follovriDg   table   (XI.)   oxhibita    the   eame  thing  foi 

Bombay.     Tho    first  column  of  this-  table   is   derived  from  thd 

magnetic    results  of  C.  Cliambers,  while  the  sun-spot  areas  are 
those  of  Messrs  De  la  Rue,  Stewart,  and  Loewy. 


Aggregate  Values  (in  Minutes) 
of  Declination  Disturbances. 

Sun-Spot  Areas. 

1859 
1S60 
1861 
1862 
1863 

1532-1 
1421-6 

951-8 
1240-5 

691-1 

1353 
1313 
1297 
1211 
676 

Wo  may  conclude  from  these  tables  that  declination  disturbances 
march  with  sim-snots,  but  that  tho  alliance  between  these  two 
phenomena  is  proDably  not  so  intimate  as  that  between  declina- 
tion ranges  and!  sun-sjjots. 

62.  Distribution,  of  Declination  Disturbances  orer  the  Surface  of 
the  Olobe. — It  is  well  known  that  disturbances  are  comparatively 
small  near  the  equator,  while  they  are  great  near  the  magnetio 
poles,  and  greatest  of  all  perhaps  near  tho  position  of  maximum 
auior.as.  It  we  adopt  Sabino's  system  of  separating  disturbed  from 
undisturbed  observations,  it  is  thus  clear  that  the  same  sc;>aratina 
value  cannot  be  adopted  at  all  stations.  At  first  sight  this  woijil 
seem  to  introduce  an  element  of  uncertainty  in  the  estimation  of 
disturbances,  but  it  was  soon  found  by  Sabine  that  no  very  great 
nicety  is  required  in  this  matter.  Not  only  do  tho  laws  which  regu- 
late disturbances  at  a  given  station  remain  comparatively  unaffected 
by  the  magnitude  of  the  separating  value,  but  it  is  likewise  easy  to 
tell  whether  tho  aggregate  distm-banco  value  at  one  station  is  de- 
cidedly greater  or  less  than  at  another.  Probably  at  present  il 
would  be  impossible  to  obtain  moro  definite  infonnation  tnan  this, 
03.  Tho  following  table  (XII.)  exhibits  tho  proportion  between 
tho  aggregate  amount  of  easterly  and  that  of  westerly  disturbancQi 
of  the  decliaation  at  various  stations  in  both  hemispheres  :— 
Nome  of  StAtlon.  Easterly.      Westerly. 

Toronto 140  1 

Point  Barrow « 1-63        ;        1 

Port  Kennedy _._ 1-85        :        1 

Carlton  Fort 1-74        :       I 

Kcw „ -..    1-19       :       1 

Peking 1  :       I'll 

Bombay  ».,    1*0         :       1 

St  Helena.. _ „ _    1  I       l-tO 

Capo  of  Good  Hope  ,.» 1  :       I'Al 

Hobart  Town  1  :       1-40 

Falkland  L.K« >-6«       :       1 

64.  Annual  Variation  ij  DecUna/ii>n.—Tht  declination  floctn*- 


^IBBESTRIAL  ItAGNSTISH.] 


M  E  T  E  O  R  0  L  0  G  Y' 


17a 


lions  of  short  period  hitherto  discussed  are  not  necessarily  accom- 
ranted  by  a  permanent  change  of  mean  position  of  tlie  needle.  We 
tave  now  to  inquire  whether  there  bo  any  fluctuations  of  long 
period  (besides  the  secular  change  discussed  in  §§  30-33)  tending 
^0  alter  perceptibly  the  position  of  the  magnetic  needle.  This  leads 
113  at  once  to  the  annual  variation,  for  our  knowledge  of  which  we 
must  look  to  the  later-made  and  more  accurate  observations,  in 
rwhich  all  possible  sources  of  error  have  been  carefully  eliminated. 
iBroun  has  made  an  exhaustive  experimental  inquiry  into  the  various 
sources  of  error  which  could  possibly  influence  his  declination 
piecdlo  at  Trevandruin.  His  conclusion  was  that  the  variations 
jof  torsion  of  a  well-made  thread  are  not  suflicient  to  produce  a 
jsensiblo  effect  upon  the  position  of  a  powerful  magnet.  In  fact 
JGnibb's  magnet,  weighing  6000  grains,  and  Adie's,  weighing  1100 
grains,  give  almost  identical  results.  Wo  may  extend  these  con- 
clusions to  other  observatories  where  well-devised  instruments  have 
teen  established,  and  look  with  much  confidence  to  such  instru- 
ments registering  correctly  the  secular  as  well  as  the  annual 
change  of  declination  that  may  be  taking  place  at  each  locality. 

65.  The  following  table  (XIII.),  borrowed,  with  the  exception  of 
the  Trcvandrum  and  Bombay  results,  from  E.  Walker's  Terrestrial 
Hcuftutisin,  shows  tlic  annual  variation  at  seven  stations; — 


Hobai-t  Town. 
M  llelrna..... 

The  C.-ipe 

Toronto 

TierunJrum., 
bombay 


21  39  W. 

0  seE. 

23  37  W. 
29    7  W. 

1  35  W. 
0  35  E. 
0  31  U. 


7  39  00  E. 
1  2320  W. 
7  57-00  W. 

0  23<0  W. 

1  5712  W. 
1  35-4  E. 
3     10    E. 


1858-S2 
18M-18 
1841-49 
1841-46 
1815-il 
1854-69 
1859-65 


^Table   XIV, — Showing  the    Mea%    Anntuil    Variation  for  cacJt 
Month  of  tilt  Year  at  Seven  Statiorts. 


* 

1 

S 

i 

5o 

1 
1 

Trerondrum. 

1                   B 
Grubb.    Adie.         » 

4-  1-5 
-41-8 

-ior, 

-70-3 
-20-7 
4-  9-8 
4-40-6 
+343 
4-390 
4-  ili 
4-31-2 
4-29-8 

-  0-0 

-  9-6 
-17-4 
-42-6 

-  4-2 
4-47-4 

4-i;i-o 

4- ■-■1-6 
4-19-8 
4-  4-2 
4-  0-6 

-  7-S 

-  2-4 

-  1-2 

-13-8 
4-  8-4 

-  3-6 
-19-9 
4-   1-8 
4-   7-2 
4-  7-2 

-  30 
4-18-0 
4-10-2 

4-64-2 
-10-8 
-02-4 

-22-2 
-38-7 
-24-1 

4-  1-2    4-  6-3  1  4-11-0  ! 
4-  3-4    4-  8-7     4.16-3, 
+  5-6    4-8-7    4-  9-8  j 
4-  1-6    4-  2-2  1  4-  1-7  1 

-  2-8    -3-2,4-  1-6, 

-  8-7     -10-5  14-0-4, 

-  80    -111  1-8-9 
4-  1-2-30'  +   1-2 
4-  3-3    -  1-3    -18-2  1 
4-7-14-  3-2:  -10-9  I 
4-2-3    4-  2-0  14-3-11 

-  4-9    -  1-2    -  7-0  i 

May 

-61-8    -1-2-.' 
-43-2  ,  -  4-5 
-  4-8    4-136 
4--i5-2  1  4-27-6 
4-4-2-0  1  4-3S-.i 

September.,... 

October 

KovcmlKT. 

Uct'Cmbcr. 

Febiaiiy- 

March 

4-43-2 
4-49-8 

4-   7-9 
4-10-7 

Here  4-  indicates  that  the  marked  pole  of  the  needle  is  to  the 
west  and  —  that  it  is  to  the  cast  of  its  mean  position  for  the  year. 

60.  To  cancel  the  in-egularitics  of  this  tabic  let  us  take  the  means 
from  Api-il  to  September  and  from  October  to  "March,  the  former 
embracing  tho  itioiiths  around  the  Juno  solstice  and  the  latter 
(hose  around  the  Dcceiubcr  sojstice  (Table  XV.): — 


i 

.Mentis  from 

Means  Troin 

April  to  September. 

October  to  March. 

Kcw 

-28-7 

4-31-8 

Toi-oiito 

-  4-.'> 

St  Iklroii 

-  6-4 

CniH  of  Gi>nd  Hope 

-29-7 

4-30-9 

-18-7 

4-17-3 

TrcvanJrum 

4-  2-1 

-  1  6 

Bombay 

4-  0-3 

-  6-8 

It  will  be  seen  from  the  ahove  that  the  means  for  Trcvandrum  and 
BoKibay  present  opposite  signs  to  those  for  the  other  stations.  The 
wb.>le  amount  for  Trcvandrum  is  no  doubt  very  small,  and 
Ciiainbers  does  not  regard  the  evidence  for  Bombay  as  conclusive; 
out  on  the  whole  it  would  appe.-vr  that  two  observatories  near 
one  auotl'.er  present  evidence  of  a  similar  behaviour  in  .declination, 
and  wo  are  therefore  disposed  to  regard  it  as  a  reality. 

67.  Si-miannuat  Variation  of  Declination.— If  we  look  at 
tho  numbers  of  Table  XIV.,  we  shall  see  that  theio  are  traces 
of  turning  points  at  tho  equinoxes.  Let  us,  in  order  to  exliibit 
this,  compare  together  the  sums  for  the  six  months  grouped 
around  the  two  equi'lMxes  with  those  for  the  six  months  groujied 
around  the  two  sobtices — that  is  t-j  say,  compare  tho  sums  for 
Fcbnnry,  March,  April,  August,  September,  October,  with  those 
for  November,  December,  January,  May,  Juno.  J>il»— »nd  wSLthus 
«htun  the  following  Ubie  ^XVL)-- 


Kew 

Toronto 

St  Helena 

Cape 

Hobart  Town  . 
Tl-evandrum  ... 
Bombay 


Sums  around 

S 

r.16  nroiuid 

Equinoctial  Months, 

Eolstillul  Mentha. 

4-104-2 

-M-7 

4-  90-4 

-21-0 

4-     4-S 

4-  4-8 

4-  47-4 

-34-2 

-     0-7 

4-25-6 

■+20-3 

4-     0-2 

-  0-1 

68.  Solar-Diurnal  VaricUions  of  the  Horizontal  and  Vertical  Com- 
ponents of  Magnetic  Force. — Although  self-recording  niagnetogiajihs 
have  bceu  established  in  many  observatories  tluou^hout  the  glooe, 
yet,  owing  to  tho  peculiar  difficulties  of  the  task,  and  the  labour  of 
the  process  of  reduction,  very  little  has  been  done  tow  ards  determin- 
ing tho  solar-diurual  variatiou  of  thehomontal  and  vertical  codi]k>u- 
ents  of  the  earth's  magnetic  force.  Senhor  Capello  of  the  Lisboa 
Observatory  has,  however,  made  progress  with  nis  reductions,  and 
has  already  published  valuable  mfomiation  regarding  the  solar* 
diurnal  fluctuation  of  the  t\vo  force  elements  at  his  obsci-vatory. 

In  his  atteuipts  to  eliminate  tlie  disturbances  of  horizontal  and 
vertical  force  by  the  method  of  Sir  E.  Sabine,  Senhor  Cajicllo  has 
experienced  considerabledifficulty,  more  particularly  with  the  records 
of  the  vertical  force  magnctogranh.  Tliis  instrument  and  tho 
bifilar  have  very  often  been  found  by  him  to  change  tlieir  position 
of  equilibrium  after  strong  perturbations.  Again  there  is  generally, 
for  any  houi',  a  variation  at  the  beginning  and  end  of  tho  month 
from  the  monthly  normal  value  for  that  hour  owing  to  uhangc  o! 
temperature,  and  this  cannot  be  completely  corrected  inasmuch  aa 
the  coefficient  of  temperature  is  not  exactly  known.  These  two 
causes  combined  tend  to  falsify  the  results  when  the  plan  adopted  is 
the  method  of  comparison  between  the  individual  values  of  any  hour 
and  the  normal  monthly  average  of  that  hour.  Senhor  Capello  ha? 
found  it  necessary  to  selert  and  extract  the  disturbances,  not 
directly  from  the  hourly  values,  but  by  comparing  the  variation  of 
an  individual  day  with  the  average  diurnal  vaiiation  derived  from 
the  month. 

To  illustrate  this  method  by  means  of  an  example,  let  us  imagine 
that  the  sum  of  the  t\venty-four  hourly  values  for  a  particular  dLy 
is  24,000,  and  that  the  average  monthly  diurnal  variation  would 
indicate  that  a  particular  hour  of  this  dayshoiUd  have  a  value  990, 
then,  if  the  value  for  this  hour  should  prove  to  be  gicatur  or  less 
than  990  by  more  than  a  certain  amount,  it  wotdd  be  set  aside  as  a 
distui'bed  observation.  Senhor  Cajjello  rather  thinks  it  will  be 
desirable  somewhat  to  modify  this  method,  and  he  concludes  his 
remarks  by  observing  that  for  t)iis  and  other  similar  questions 
it  is  most  necessary  that  directors  of  establishments  possessing 
magnetographs  should  agree  together  to  employ  the  same  mcthuu 
in  their  reductions  in  older  that  their  results  may  be  compar- 
able with  each  other.  With  the  view  of  adding  weight  to  these 
remarks,  we  may  quote  the  obscn-ation  of  Sir  William  Tlionison, 
that  our  ability  to  analyse  mathematically  that  influence  which 
produces  tlie  diurnal  variation  will  depend  upon  our  knowing 
at  a  certain  number  of  stations  the  exact  iiatuic  of  this  diur- 
nal variation  for  eaeli  of  tho  three  magnetic  ch-mcnts.  A  complete 
theory  of  this  diurnal  influence  must  therefore  wait  upon  tlio 
concerted  action  of  the  directors  of  the  various  establishments 
possessing  magnetographs. 

69.  Change  Cn  Horizontal  Force  Range  froTn  Month  to  Month. — ■' 
Although  we  do  not  possess  finally  accurate  detcrininations  of  the 
solar-diurnal  variations  of  either  clement  of  tlje  force,  vet  wo  are  in 
))Ossession  of  information  regarding  the  change  in  the  iliurnul  range 
of  the  horizontal  force  from  month  to  month  at  the  Greenwich 
Observatory.  William  Ellis  has  given  us  the  Ibllowiiig  table 
[Phil.  Trans.,  1830)  representing  the  monthly  mean  diurnal  rungcof 
horizontal  force  at  that  observatoi-y  expressed  in  tc-n-thousandtlia 
of  tlie  whole  horizontal  force.  In  tlie  formation  of  thcso  jneatis, 
days  of  great  inagnctic  disturbance  were  rejected,  and  also  certain 
other  days  on  which  there  prevailed  a  .smaller  but  considcrablo 
£  mount  of  disturbance  estimated  according  to  a  gunci-al  utaudard 
formed  in  tlie  examination  of  many  thousands  of  jdiotograidis. 

Table  XVII. — Monthly  Mean,  Diurnal  Range  of  Uvrizontal  Force 
at  Royal  Observatory^  Orcemoich. 


Thus,  like  tho  dotlination  range  (§  43),  the  hoiizontal  force  range 
has  a  maximuin  in  stunnier  and  a  niinimiuu  in  winter,  and  cxhibita- 
a  tendency  towards  maxima  at  the  equinoxes. 

70.  Long- Period  Tncqnnlitics  of  Horizontal  Force  JCange.-  . 
^9fring  Behind.^ — Ellis  has  com]>arcd  the  diurnal  rango  of  tho' 
horizontal  force  as  wcU  as  that  of  the  declination  at  Greenwich 
with  the  i»eriod  of  sun-sjtot  frequency,  his  cunijaiisonH extending 
from  1841  to  1877,  and  he  has  deduced  tlie  following  conchisions:— 

>  Secchl  (Wolfs  AUronrtVilsrbe  MittheUumjen,  No.  21)  «-vm."i  lo  Iiuvc  been  iho 
Bret  vt  ln<lli-aic  a  rcl.-iiton  lK*i>«ucn  Uio  ttotc  of  tbc  aun's  Butfioc  mud  Die  diuriutl' 
TarUttoa  In  tbu  hoiizuiital  force. 


174 


METEOROLOGY 


[tERUESTBIAL  MAGNETISIt. 


(1)  Tlic  diurnal  ranges  of  the  magnetic  elements  of  declination 
anil  horizontal  force  are  subject  to  a  periodical  variation,  the 
duration  of  which  is  equal  to  that  of  the  known  eleven-year  sun- 
spot  period. 

(2)  Tho  epochs  of  minimum  an^  maximum  of  magnetic  and  sun- 
spot  effect  arc  nearly  coincident,  tho  magnetic  epochs  on  the  whole 
occurring  somewhat  later  than  the  corresponding  sun-spot  epochs. 
The  variations  of  duration  in  difl'orent  jjcriods  appear  to  be  similar 
for  both  phenomena. 

(3)  The  occasional  more  sudden  outbursts  of  magnetic  and  sun- 
spot  energy,  extending  sometimes  over  periods  of  several  months, 
npiiear  to  occur  nearly  simultaneously,  and  progress  collaterally. 

71.  Disturbance  Diurnal  Variation  of  Force  Components.— Ifa 
may  derive  the  following  conclusions  from  tho  results  obtained  by 
S;ibino  for  tho  observatories  of  Toronto,  Kew,  and  St  Helena.  For 
fach  element  there  are  two  categories,  namely,  those  disturbances 
v.'hicli  tend  to  increase  and  those  which  tend  to  diminish  the 
cifMicnt  in  question. 

(1)  At  Toronto  the  disturbances  increasing  both  elements  of  force 
well  represent  single  progressions  with  maxima  occuiring  for  both 
about  4  or  5  hours  local  time.  Again  the  disturbances  decreasing 
bcih  elements  represent  fairly  well  single  progiessions  with  maxima 
occurring  for  both  at  about  14  or  15  hours  local  time. 

(2)  At  Kew  the  disturbances  increasing  both  elements  represent 
well  single  progressions  with  maxima  occurring  for  both  about  5 
houi-s  local  time.  On  the  other  hand,  the  dirturbances  decreasing 
the  horizontal  force  represent  signs  of  a  double  progi-ession  and 
those  decreasing  the  vertical  force  signs  of  a  single  progression,  the 
maximum  for  tho  latter  falling  between  the  two  maxima  for  tho 
former,  and  occurring  at  14  hours  local  time. 

(3)  There  is  not  the  same  close  correspondence  between  the 
progi'ess  of  the  disturbances  wliich  tend  to  increase  both  elements 
Hor  between  the  progress  of  those  which  tend  to  decrease  both 
elements  at  St  Helena  as  there  is  for  the  other  stations,  nor  is  there 
the  same  likeness  between  the  numbers  for  St  Helena  and  those  of 
Toronto  or  Kew  as  there  is  between  tlie  numbers  of  Toronto  and 
those  of  Kew. 

72.  The  fact  that  the  disturbance-diurnal  variations  of  the  two 
force  elements  at  Kew  are  very  like  each  other  while  neither  of 


Table  XVIII. — Hourly  Ratios  and  Frequency  of  the  Kew  Peals 
and  Hollows,  the    Vertical  Force  Disturbance  being  taken  at 

Unity.' 


Hour. 

L'ncM. 

llor. 

Number  of 

near  '^""■ 

nor. 

Xumbor  of 

naciun. 

Furcc. 

Obseiratlons. 

Force. 

Ob-ciTatlonil. 

0-  1 

2-14 

206 

12-13 

1-70 

2-68 

3 

1-  2 

1-97 

218 

13-14 

2-00 

2  04 

3 

2-  3 

l-SO 

1-90 

11 

14-15 

2-10 

2-14 

5 

3-  4 

1-81 

2-0.'. 

15-10 

2 -05 

2-11 

10 

4-  9 

1-3S 

1-73 

1(1-17 

3-48 

2-16 

IS 

0-  G 

1-67 

171 

17-18 

3-80 

2-14 

22 

6-  7 

18-19 

3-94 

2-18 

2S 

7-8 

1-62 

1-91 

19-20 

3-97 

2-25 

2t 

8-  9 

1-60 

2-20 

20-21 

3-41 

221 

23 

9-10 

0 

21--i2 

3-20 

2-30 

16 

JO-U 

1-33 

3-15 

1 

22-23'     2-;9 

2  00 

10 

11-12 

1-30 

2-32 

3 

23-24       2-.';0 

204 

U 

74.  It  will  be  seen  ifom  tins  table  that  the  ratio  between  simul- 
taneous peaks  and  hollows  of  the  two  components  of  the  force  is  very 
nearly  constant,  the  horizontal  force  disturbance  being  about  double 
that  of  the  vertical  force,  so  far  as  size  on  the  curve  is  conccnicd. 
It  will  also  be  seen  that  there  is  a  very  marked  diurnal  range  in 
the  ratio  which  the  declination  peak  or  hollow  bears  to  that  of  the 
vertical  force,  this  ratio  being  greatest  about  7  a.m.  About  this 
hour  we  have  also  most  peaks  and  hollows,  while  in  the  evening  and 
early  inorniiig  hoiu's  there  is  so  great  an  absence  of  these  phenomena 
that  the  ratios  are  doubtful. 

75.  A  preliminary  comparison  between  the  peaks  and  hollows 
at  Lisbon  and  at  Kew  has  been  made  by  Capello  and  Stewart 
(Proc.  Ho!/.  Soc,  January  28,  1864)  with  the  following  conclusions. 

(1)  The  Kew  i>eaks  and  hollows  are  simultaneously  produced  at 
Lisbon  in  all  the  elements,  but  to  a  smaller  extent  than  at  Kew. 

(2)  The  direction  is  the  same  at  both  stations  for  the  declination 
and  horizontal  force  peaks  and  hollows,  but  it  is  reversed  in  the  case 
of  the  vertical  force,  so  that  a  sudden  small  increase  of  vertical  force 
at  Kew  corresponds  to  a  diminution  of  the  same  at  Lisbon. 

It  would  be  manifestly  impossible  to  discuss  with  any  advantage 
the  nature  and  origin  of  these  peculiar  changes  until  raoi-c  exten- 
observatlons  of  them  have  been  made.      As  the  peak  and 


them  is  very  like  the  corresponding   declination  variation  (§  54)  |  i^q^^^^  foj-ce  is  probably  of  a  simrile  nature,  a'further  knowledge  of 


receives  confirmation  from  a  visual  inspection  of  tho  Kew  curves. 
In  the  Philosophical  Transactions  for  1862  Stewart  thus  describes 
the  result  of  an  inspection  of  the  disturbances  of  these  curves  for 
the  years  1858,  1859,  1860  (distxirbance  years)  :— 

"There  nre  twenty-two  cases  in  which  the  declination  is  raised  or  lowered 
along  witli  the  horizontal  foice,  and  only  seven  cases  of  an  opposite  description. 
Also  there  are  twenty-two  cases  in  wliioh  the  declination  is  raised  or  lowered 
along  with  tlio  vertical  force,  and  only  eleven  casca  of  an  opposite  description. 
Finally,  there  are  thirty-one  cases  in  which  both  forces  arc  raised  or  lowered 
tocether,  and  only  two  cases  of  an  opposite  description,  Tiiere  is  theiefore  a 
decided  tendency  in  the  carves  of  ail  the  elements  to  be  raised  or  lowered  simul- 
taneously, but  this  tendency  is  stronger  between  the  horizontal  and  vertical  force 
curves  than  between  either  of  these  and  the  declination.  It  may  at  the  same 
time  be  affirmed  that  with  the  exception  of  tlie  disturbance  of  August  to  Septem- 
ber lSo9  there  is  no  very  prominent  case  in  which  the  three  elements  do  not  rise 
or  fall  together." 

73.  Peaks  and  Hollows. — These  are  certain  small  but  abrupt  mag- 
netic changes  which  from  the  fact  that  they  generally  fall  within 
the  separating  value  are  not  usually  regarded  as  disturbances.  Those 
changes  can  only  be  brought  to  light  where  there  is  a  continuous 
record  of  magnetic  phenomena  nuch  as  that  derived  from  self- 
recording  magnetographs.  They  were  first  studied  at  the  Kew 
Observatory  by  StewaYt  {Phil.  Trails.^  1862).  "We  have  seen  that 
more  than  one  type  of  force  must  be  concerned  in  producing 
magnetic  disturbao^as.  This  is  confirmed  by  the  appearance  of  the 
Kew  records,  from  which  it  may  be  seen  that  no  disturbance  of  any 
nwgnitude  is  due  to  the  action  of  a  single  force  varying  merely  in 
if&rount  but  not  in  direction.  For  if  there  were  only  one  typo  of 
force  the  distance  at  any  moment  of  a  point  in  the  curve  of  one 
of  the  elements  from  its  normal  position  should  bear  throughout  a 
disturbance  an  invariable  proportion  to  the  distance  of  a  correspond- 
ing poi/it  in  the  curve  of  another  of  the  elements  from  its  nownal; 
but  this  is  by  no  means  the  case. 

But  even  if  several  independent  forces  are  at  work  it  may  be 
thought  unlikely  that  at  the  same  Inoment  a  sudden  change  should 
take  place  in  all ;  there  is  thus  a  probability  that  sudden  changes 
of  force,  as  exhibited  in  peaks  and  hollows,  are  changes  in  one  of 
the  elementary  forces  concerned.  Even  if  tho  change  is  not  a  very 
abrupt  one,  prortded  that  wc  confine  ourselves  to  such  peaks  and 
hollows  as  present  a  similar  appearance  for  all  tho  curves,  wo  may 
suppose  that  we  are  observing  changes  in  one  only  of  the  elementary 
disturbing  forces  ;  for  it  is  unlikely  that  two  or  more  independent 
forces,  changing  independently,  should  nroduce  similar  appearances 
in  all  of  tho  three  curves. 

Assuming  it  as  probabio  that  similarity  of  appearance  in  the 
curve  variations  of  the  three  elcmonta  denotes  a  simplicity  in  tho 
disturbing  foico,  Stewart  has  discussed  all  such  peaks  and  hollows 
at  Kow  c-^tending  over  the  first  two  years  of  their  production,  and 
has  obtained  a  result  which  is  embodied  in  the  following  tabic; — 


its  character  may  be  of  much  importance  to  the  theory  of  tciTestrial 
magnetism. 

It  is  interesting  to  remark  that  we  have  in  peaks  and  hollows  the 
same  close  relation  between  the  variations  of  the  two  force  elements 
that  we  find  in  the  larger  disturbances. 

It  is  believed  too  that  during  violent  disturbances  a  certain 
change  of  type  is  produced  in  the  peak  and  hollow  force,  and  more 
especially  is  this  remarkable  in  the  great  disturbance  in  August  and 
September  1859,  where  the  declination  would  seem  to  march  in  the 
Opposite  direction  from  the  two  components  of  the  force.  "VVe  have 
seen  that  the  same  peculiarity  characterized  on  this  occasion  the 
larger  and  more  apparent  magnetic  changes.  AVe  shall  afterwards 
refer  to  a  circumstance  whidi  may  perhaps  throw  light  upon  this 
peculiarity  (g  93),  meanwhile  wo  conclude  by  again  remarking  that 
duiing  comparative  magnetic  calms  the  peak  and  hollow  force  shows 
signs  of  remaining  constant  in'  type,  and  that  it  is  therefore  of 
great  importance  that  the  directors  of  observatories  possessing  self- 
recording  magnetographs  should  take  united  action  to  observe  this 
force. 

76.  Oilier  Inequalities  of  the  DislurhancC'Diurnal  Variation  of  the 
Force  Comjsoitcn^. ^Sabine  has  shown  that  disturbances  of  the  force 
components  present  a  distribution  over  the  various  months  of  the 
year  very  similar  on  the  whole  to  that  which  is  exhibited  by  «.lis- 
turbances  of  declination.  He  has  likewise  shown  that  disturbances 
of  the  force  components  present  a  distribution  over  various  years 
similar  to  that  exhibited  by  disturbances  of  declination.  Finally, 
we  may  probably  conclude  that  disturbances  of  the  force  comrionents 
are  smallest  at-those  portions  of  the  earth's  surface  where  disturb- 
ances of  the  declination  are  smallest,  and  largest  at  those  portions 
where  such  disturbances  arc  largest. 

77.  Annxtal  and  Semiannual  Variation  of  Horizontal  Force  and 
Dip.~-^TQ\xn  {Trans.  Roy.  Soc.  Edin.  for  1861)  has  discussed  the 
results  obtained  by  Sabine  at  his  magnetical  stations,  and  has  shown 
that  differential  and  absolute  observations  agree  in  telling  us  that 
tha  horizontal  force  is  smallest  at  the  equinoxes  and  greatest  at 
the  solstices.  "Whipple  has  recently  obtained  the  same  result  from 
the  Kew  observations. 

We  have  deduced  the  following  table  (XIX.)  from  the  various 
absolute  determinations  that  have  been  maiU-  at  sundry  places.  lu 
it  the  annual  and  semiannual  variations  of  declination,  horizontal 
force,  and  dip  are  exhibited,  "increase"  denoting  a  push  to  the 
west,  and  "  decrease"  a  push  to  the  east.  The  metnodif  obtaining 
these  has  already  been  indicated  in  §§  66,  67. 


It,  and  a  hollow  of  one  cleiacnt  to  a  hollotr  of  another. 


^EBRBSieiAL  MAOXETISM.] 


METEOEOLOGY 


175 


Makenrtoun  or  Kew 

Toitnito IncrcAse. 

Cape  of  Good  Hopp i  Increase. 

HobartTuwn _ __ T)<u.wa..> 


Effect  on  Declination. 


At  June  Solstice 

compared  to 

December  Soiatice. 


Decrease. 

Decrease. 
Decrease. 
Increase. 

Decrease. 


Effect  UD  HorlzoDUl  Foi-< 


Decrease. 
Decrease. 
Decrease. 
Decrease. 


At  June  Solstice 

compared  to 
December  Solstice. 


Increase. 
Increase. 
Decrease. 


78.  In  discussing  the  results  of  this  table  we  shall  assume  that 
the  son  acts,  and  in  all  probability  acts  indirectly,  upon  the 
magnetic  system  of  the  earth.  This  point  will  afterwards  be 
further  examined.  Meanwhile,  assuming  this  indirect  action  of  the 
siin,  and  assuming,  to  fix  our  thoughts,  that  it  is  in  close  alliance 
with  the  convection  system  of  the  earth's  atmosphere,  wo  can  readily 
imagine  that  such  solar  action  would  act  most  strongly  on  the 
earth's  magnetic  poles  at  the  solstices,  and  that  in  the  June  solstice 
the  pole  or  poles  in  the  northern  hemisphere  and  in  the  December 
solstice  those  in  the  southern  hemisphere  would  he  most  affected. 
Now  a  strong  action  of  this  kind  upon  either  magnetic  pole  may 
wcU  be  presumed  to  increase  the  general  magnetism  of  the  earth,  or 
at  least  that  portion  of  it  which  is  most  readily  aflected  by  external 
action,  that  is  to  saj-,  the  induction  system.  Again,  if  the  solar 
magnetic  influence  is  connected  with  the  convection  currents  of  the 
earth,  we  can  readily  imagine  that  the  influence  in  the  northern 
hemisphere  where  there  is  much  land  should  exceed  that  in  the 
southern  hemisphere  where  there  is  much  water. 

If  these  views  bo  reasonable  we  might  expect  two  things  to 
follow:— (1)  the  earth's  induction  system  should  be  stronger  at  the 
solsticfs  than  ac  the  equinoxes,  and  (2)  it  should  be  more  especially 
strong  at  the  June  solstice,  when  the  sun  acts  in  the  northern  hemi- 
sphere. We  must  bear  in  mind,  however,  that  so  vast  is  the 
sarth  that  a  stimulus  applied  to  its  particles  most  susceptible  of 
magnetism  may  not  be  instantaneously  propagated  throughout 
its  mass,  but  that  time  may  enter  as  an  element  of  the  question 
in  which  case,  inasmuch  as  the  action  of  the  sun  at  the  June  solstice 
IS  m  the  northern  hemisphere,  a  station  near  the  south  pole  may  not 
folly  partake  of  the  magnetic  efi'ects  of  this  action. 

79.  An  hypothesis  of  this  natiu-e  would  appear  to  be  consistent 
with  the  results  of  Table  XIX. 

In  the  first  place,  if  the  earth  should  become  stionger  as  a  magnet 
in  one  or  m  both  of  its  magnetic  systems  this  would"  show  itself  by 
an  increase  of  horizontal  force  at  least  in  aU  such  stations  as  those 
at  which  absolute  observations  are  made.  An  influence  which 
mereases  the  horizontal  force  at  these  various  stations  is  therefore 
naturally  regarded,  and  was  regarded  by  Broun,  as  one  increasing 
the  strength  of  one  or  both  of  the  magnetic  systems  of  the  earth— 
whether  of  one  or  of  both  wiU  presently  appear.  We  may  therefore 
assiune  from  our  observations  that  one  or  both  of  the  earth's  mag- 
netic systems  are  strongest  at  the  solstices.  • 

■  In  the  next  place  we  may  imagine  that  the  changes  of  declination 
and  dip  which  the  table  exhibits  as  occurring  at  the  solstices  aie 
the  very  changes  whicli  would  be  wrought  in  these  elements  by  an 
increase  of  power  in  the  earth.  For  we  see  very  weU  that  an 
increase  of  horizontal  force  at  the  va-.^ous  stations  may  be  regarded 
as  denoting  an  increase  of  the  earth'i  magnetic  power.  We  cannot 
however,  see  with  equal  facility  what  changes  would  be  produced  in 
the  declination  and  dip  by  an  increase  in  power  of  one  or  both  of 
the  magnetic  systems;  but  we  may  weU  imagine  that  such  changes 
ot  these  elements  as  are  found  to  accompany  an  increase  of  horizon- 
tal force  are  those  that  denote  an  increase  of  the  earth's  power 

■  We  have  thus  ascertained  the  probable  nature  of  those  changes  of 
the  three  elements  which  denote  an  increase  of  power.  Now  it  will 
be  noteed  from  the  table  that  the  cflect  at  the  June  as  compared 
mth  That  at  the  December  solstice  is  of  the  opposite  nature  to  the 
eflect  at  the  equinoxes  as  compared  with  the  solstices, —that  is  to 
say,  the  earth  is  more  powerfully  affected  in  June  than  in  December 
the  only  well-estabUshed  exception  to  this  being  Hobart  Town  in  the 
far  south.  But,  assuming  that  time  is  an  element  in  the  develop- 
ment of  thispreponderating  influence  acting  in  the  north,  it  is  easy 
to  see  why  Hobart  Town  should  not  exhibit  its  full  efl-ect. 

Jl_  It  remains  to  determine  from  the  observations  themselves  which 
of  tiie  magnetic  systems  it  is  that  exhibits  these  oscillations. 
Analogy  would  of  course  point  to  the  induction  system,  but  it  is 
desirable  to  determine  this  from  the  observations  themsdves.  • 
I  In  §  5i,  when  discussing  the  disturbaiice-diurnal  variation  of 
decUnation,  it  was  found  that  Toronto  and  Kew  may  be  regarded  as 
on  one  side  of  the  Siberian  pole,  while  Peking,  Nertchinsk,  and 
Bombay  are  on  the  other.  Now,  if  it  be  this  pole  that  is  influenced 
by  the  oscillations  under  discussion,  we  might  expect  thattlie  influ' 
enco  on  declination  at  Toronto  and  Kew  should  Ibe  the  opposite  of 
that  at  Trevandrum  and  Bombay.  We  find  by  the  table  that  this 
IS  the  case,  and  wo  are  thus  inclined  to  attribute  these  changes  to 
the  biberian  utetcad  of  the  American  polo.  ^It  would  thus  appear 


At  June  Solstice 

compared  to 
December  Solstice. 


that  the  observations  of  Table  XIX.  bear  out  the  provisional  workins 
hyuothesis  which  we  have  ventured  to  introduce.  It  is  quite  nos 
aible  that  these  remarks  may  not  stand  the  test  of  more  comnleto 
inquiry,  but  they  are  here  introduced  rather  as  denoting  a  method 
of  looking  at  the  subject  which  ought  we  think  to  be  pureued  than 
as  embodying  conclusions  of  a  final  nature. 

80.  Effect  of  tlie  Slate  of  the  Sun's  Surface  upon  t/u  Absolute 
Magnetum  of  the  Earth.— We  have  now  to  consider  whether  the 
state  of  the  sun's  surface  permanently  influences  the  magnetism  of 
the  earth.  It  will  at  once  be  seen  that  any  such  action  will  appar- 
entlymanifest  itself  as  an  oscillation  in  the  secular  change.  We  must, 
however,  carefully  guard  ourselves  against  prematurely  concluding 
that  It  implies  a  variation  in  the  amoimt  of  true  seciUar  change. 
There  may  be  tivo  distinct  things— true  secular  change  due  to  que 
cause,  and  action  depending  on  sun-spots  due  to  another.  These, 
from  the  nature  of  the  case,  are  necessarily  mixed  up  together  in  the 
yearly  changes  which  we  examine;  it  does  no't,  however,  follow  that 
there  is  any  real  identity  between  them.  We  shall  now  give  one 
example  of  the  method  to  bo  pursued  in  the  attempt  to  detect  a  'olar 
influence  of  this  nature.  Let  us  turn  to  Table  III.,  and  tafce  the  decli- 
nation yearly  values  at  Toronto  from  1856  to  1871.  Subteicting  the 
value  for  1856  from  that  for  1871,  we  find  that  the  westerly  declina- 
tion had  increased  in  fifteen  years  51'-6,  that  is  to  say,  at  the  mean 
rate  of  3'-ii  per  annum.  Again,  the  average  declination  for  the 
sixteen  years  1856-71  is  2°  20'-8  corresponding  to  the  epoch  ai 
the  commencement  of  the  year  1864.  Taking  the  aveiage  value  and 
epoch,  and  also  the  average  yearly  increase  above  given,  we  are  able 
to  construct  the  following  table  (XX.),  in  which  calculated  and 
observed  values  at  Toronto  are  compared  together : 


Observed. 

Calculated. 

Difference. 

1856 

1  5G-30 

1  55-00 

2    0-50 

1  58-44 

2     1-88 

-I-2-08 

1 1000 

2    8-76 

2  14-40 

2  12-20 

2  15-70 

2  15-64 

2  1910 

2  1908 

2  21-90 

2  22-52 

2  24-80 

2  25-96 

2  27-60 

2  29-40 

2  29-80 

2  32-84 

2  33-20 

2  86-28 

2  3710 

2  39-72 

2  41-90 

2  43  16 

2  4790 

2  46-60 

-i-1-30 

It  may  be  gathered  from  this  table  that  the  years  which  corre- 
spond to  mmunum  sun-spots  have  in  the  last  column  a  greater 
negative  or  lower  positive  sign  than  those  which  correspond  to 
maximum  sun-spots,  and  hence  we  may  conclude  that  at  Toronto  the 
tendency  of  many  sun-snots  is  to  increase  the  westerly  declination. 

81.  Performing  a  similar  operation  for  all  those  cases  in  which  we 
have  a  sufficiently  extensive  series  of  observations  to  work  upon  we 
obtain  the  following  table : — 

Table  XSI.—Sfect  of  Numerous  Sun-Spots  onTiheHFaitles'  of 

Magnetic  Elements. 


Station. 

Declinaiion. 

Horizontal  Force, 

Dip. 

Kew 

Increase. 
Increase. 
Increa&e  (?), 
Decrease. 
Increase. 

Inappreciable. 

Increase. 

Uncertain. 

Increase. 

Cape  of  Good  Hope 

82.  We  have  good  gi-ounds  for  supposing  that  the  sun  is  most 
powerful  when  there  are  numerous  spots  on  his  s-irface,  and  therefore 
the  above  table  represents  a  state  of  things  which  we  may  imagine 
to  be  caused  in  one  way  or  another  by  increased  solar  power.  Now 
the  most  natural  hj-pothesis  is  to  imagine  that  an  increase  of  spots 
acts  in  producing  an  increase  of  disturbances,  and  that  for  those 
stations  at  which  the  disturbances  tend  on  the  whole  to  afl"ect  the 
elements  in  a  definite  direction  there  will  be  left  behind  a  permanent 
effect  in  this  direction.  A  comparison  of  Table  XXI.  with  Table 
XII.  wiU, 'however,  show  that  this  explanation  is  not  valid.  For 
instance,  at  Toronto  and  Kew  disturbances  tend  rather  to  diminisli 


ns 


METEOROLOGY 


^rEREESTIUAL   MAGNETISM.. 


cf  .li 


to  increase  the  westerly  declination,  ^iliile  the  effect  of  numcr-  I  same  directi..n  U-r.j.e  ihi.  curve  tumcil.      Thi5  more  gn-lii.-il  c^n-- 
pots  IS  to  increase  it.     Again,  at  the  Cape  the  tenJcncy     tinuation  of  the  first  su'lden  movement  lastcU  about  Bevcn  roinute» 


<  is  to  increase  the  westerly  declination,  while  that  of 
numerous  sun  spots  is  to  decrease  it.  At  Trevandruni  again  (if  we 
judge  of  it  1)1  IJomhay)  the  effect  of  disturbances  will  be  to  increase 
the  easterly  di  i  Hnation,  while  that  of  suil-sj.ots  is  to  decrease  it. 
Again,  it  is  lulicve.!  that  at  Kew  and  Toronto  the  supposed  disturb- 
ance effect  on  the  dip  agrees  in  character  with  the  sun-spot  effect. 
On  the  whole,  therefore,  there  is  no  definite  relation  between  the 
I  im  effects. 

Now  if  we  take  Hobart  Town,  the  Cape,  and  Trevandruin  in  the 
ariove  table,  we  find  from  Table  XIX.  that  these  stations  seem 
t.i  indicate  that  the  magnetic  state  of  the  earth  is  mo^t  powerful 
at  times  of  niaiiimum  sunsjKJts.  Kew  and  Toronto,  however, 
so  far  as  declination  and  dip  are  concerned,  apiiear  to  go  the 
other  way.  If,  however,  we  suppose  that  during  the  several 
Mara  of  ijiaxiinnni  sun-spots  the  American  pole  as  well  as  the 
■Siberian  is  affected,  and  tliat  on  such  occasions  of  long  continuance 
the  former  has  more  inlluence  than  the  latter,  we  shall  be  able  to 
reconcile  our  results  with  the  hypothesis  of  increased  solar  action. 
We  can  understand  too  that  time  must  be  au  important  element  in 
anyilillucncc  coniinnnicated  to  the  American  pole,  and  that,  although 
such  intlucnce  might  be  ai.parent  at  Toronto  and  Kew,  which  are 
eoinparatively  near  the  pole,  it  would  not  be  appareut  at  the  other 
stations  of  Table  XXI.  We  .shall  recur  to  this  subject  wheu  dis 
cussing  secular  diaiige. 

Vaeiou.s  Vhexomexa  connected  with  the  Scs  and  with 

Tekrestp.i.iil  Magnetism. 

83.  Ctosciu^ss  in  Tiiiu  between  Solar  Changes  and  Magnetic 
Vislurlxi lias. — Loomis  (American  Journal  of  Science,  vol.  I.) 
has  registered  the  extent  of  sun-spots  for  the  six  days  preceding 
and  following  each  of  the  great  magnetic  disturbances  at  Greeii- 
with,  and  has  compared  these  values  with  that  for  tho  very 
Jay  of  the  disturbance.  lu  this  manner  he  has  treated  all  the  days 
of  great  magnetic  disturbance  at  Greenwich  for  a  period  of  twenty- 
three  years,  with  tlie  exception  of  those  cases  in  which  very  few 
observations  of  suu-spots  were  made.  The  cases  of  disturljance 
thua  treated  amount  to  one  hundred  and  thirty-five,  and  t!i5 
fpUomug  result  lia.s  been  obtaiucd;  — 

Table  XXll.—ExteiU  of  SiioUcd  Solar  Surface. 

Days  before  Storm.  Storm.  Days  after  Storra. 

664321  1234SC 

las°^jl.  }*'■'  '">'  ^'^  ^^'^  *2''  ■"■'       "■'       ^5-0  45-1  49-3  45-6  452  45  3 

From  this  result  Loomis  draws  the  following  conclusions: — 
(1)  great  disturbances  of  the  earth's  magnetism  are  accompanied 
by.  unusual  disturbances  of  the  sun's  surface  on  the  very  day 
of  the  magnetic  storm ;  (2)  the  great  disturbance  of  the  sun's  surface 
which  accompanies  a  terresvrial  magnetic  storm  is  generally  heralded 
by  a  smaller  distm-bance  three  or  four  days  previous,  succeeded 
by  a  comparative  calm  which  immediately  precedes  the  mngnctic 
storm. 

84.  There  is  one  instance  on  record  of  a  sudden  solar  change 
which  was  practically  simultaneous  with  a  magnetic  disturbance.^ 
On  September  1,  1859,  a  little  before  noon,  R.  C.  Carringtoii 
was  observing  by  means  of  a  telescope  a  large  sun-spot,  when,  to 
*luote  his  own  words — 

f  "  WIttiln  the  area  of  the  great  tioilh  irronp  (the  size  ol  whlcli  had  previously 
exciteil  general  rcm.irk)  two  patches  of  inlensely  bil^-ht  End  white  light  broke 
out.  ...  I  noted  down  the  time  by  the  chronometer,  und,  seeing  the  outburst 
to  be  very  rupiilly  on  the  increase,  and  belnff  somewhat  flurried  by  the  suitiHsc, 
I  hastily  ran  to  call  some  one  to  witness  the  cxiilbition  with  me,  and  on  returning 
within  sixty  seconds  was  mortified  to  find  that  it  was  alix;o<ty  much  clinngcd  and 
enfeebled.  Very  shortly  afterwords  the  last  trace  was  gone;  and,  altliough  I 
maintained  a  strict  watch  for  nearly  an  hour,  no  lecurrcnce  took  place.  .  .  .  The 
Instant  of  tho  flR»t  outburst  was  not  fifteen  seconds  different  from  ll*"  18"»  Green- 
wich mean  time,  and  IIi"  23"i  was  taken  for  tho  time  of  disappearance.  In  this 
lap^c  of  five  minutes,  the  two  patches  of  light  traversed  u  space  of  about  35.000 
miles.  ...  It  was  impossible,  on  flist  witnessing  an  appearance  so  similar  to  a 
Buddcn  conflagration,  not  to  expect  a  considerable  rvsult  In  the  way  tff  alteration 
of  the  detiills  of  the  group  in  wliich  it  occuircd ;  and  1  was  certainly  si'irpi Iscd. 
on  referring  10  the  sketch  which  I  had  carefully  and  satisfactorily  finished  before 
tho  occurrence,  nt  flnding  myself  iinablo  to  recognize  any  change  whatever  as 
having  taken  place.  The  impression  left  upon  me  is  that  the  phenomenon  took 
place  at  an  elevation  considerably  above  the  general  surface  of  the  sun,  and 
accordingly  altogether  above  and  over  the  great  group  in  which  It  was  seen  pro- 


jected. 


*  It  lias  been  ' 


observing  the 


a  of  what  ho  also  considered  a 


t  Mr  Hodgson  ciianccd  to  be 
me  duy.  and  to  hear  that  he 
arkable  phenomenon." 

observed    this   plieno- 
'  nultaneotisly 


At  the  very   moment  when  Carringtoii 
menon  titc  three  magnetic  elements  at  Ki 

disturbed.  Tliis  disturbance  occurred  as  nearly  as  possible  at 
llt»  15ra  X.M.,  affecting  all  tho  elements  simultaneously,  and 
commencing  quite  abruptly.  The  first  or  most  abrupt  portion  of 
tho  disturbance  lasted  only  about  three  minutes  for  all  the 
dements  ;  but  after  tliat  thero  was  d  more  gradual  chaiigo  in  tlio 

>  eM-  lynu,  Mgrualwr  SI,  leCI,; 


for  all  the  elements.  This  m.ignelic  disturbance  was,  however, 
in  reality  a  small  one,  and  nas  followed  by  a  very  great  uLiturbance 
whidi  took  place  not  many  hourx  afterwards. 

85.  Simiillancili/  of  Changes  of  llori-.emlal  Force  at  Varicus  Parts 
of  the  Earth.— \\t  have  alre^sdy  (|  79)  alluded  to  tlie  superiority 
of  the  horizontal  force  in  indicating  by  its  changes  what  is  taking 
place  in  the  magnetic  system  of  the  earth.  If  this  system  bo 
strengthened  as  a  whole  we  shall  no  doubt  11m',  the  horizontal  force 
increased  in  value  at  our  various  stations,  while  if  the  earth's  powei 
be  weakened  as  a  whole  we  shall  find  the  hori.'ontal  force  diminished. 

Broun  has  discussed  this  subject  at  gre.it  length  in  a.  memoir 
alicady  mentioned,  and  has  embodied  liis  observations  in  numerical 
resuUs  from  wliich  the  following  table  has  been  extracted:— 
Table  XXIII.— JPnt/i/  Means  of  Horiioiilal  Force  at  Makcrslaun' 

(XI.),  Trevandruin  (T.),  Singajiorc  (S.),  and  Hobart  Tcu-n  (H.). 


1844. 

M.    ,    T.     1     S.     1    H. 

1844.    1  M.   1  T.   1   s.   1  n.  ] 

M 

arch    1 

21-40  1  07-42 

lC-40     IC-4G 

March  17    2130    H-M  1  19-74 

1912 

8 

18  34  1  0.V25 

1418     13-98 

„      18    2011    07-62 

17 -C5 

1-03 

,,         4 

10  53,  0042 

H'59     14-49 

„       19    21-73    03-55 

16-26 

K   59 

„         5 

0f4.J 

1279     10-04 

„       20    -2200    07-83 

17-21 

01-85 

10-42  1    9-CI! 

„       51     23-15     09-00 

18-35 

17L^ 

' 

1239 

0412 

12-37 

9-98 

„       22    22-47  1  08-14 

18-35 

lo-l: 

8 

10-94 

03-81 

I3-G2 

11-50 

„       24  ,  22-30  1  09-5S 

18-76 

..       10 

1012 

04-33 

14-87 

14-07 

„       25  1  -iS-Tl  ,  1009 

18-76 

M           " 

17-M 

05-87 

I4-S7 

13-97 

„      26  1  25-22    09-48 

20-29 

„       12 

lS-05 

06-28 

15-01 

14-22 

,.       27  1  22-24     10-81 

18-63 

„      13 

23-25 

09-58 

17-65 

16-18 

„       23    22-10    07-52 

17-79 

ii;.73 

,p      14 

23HC 

lOCl 

18-90 

17-81 

„       29    -5-97     03-50 

11 -,•,4 

„      15 

2212 

1009 

1603 

lC-85 

„       31     1700    02-27     II-SI 

10-27 

This  table  shows  a  considerable  likeness  between  the  daily  changes 
of  the  horizontal  force  at  the  four  stations.  For  instance,  we  have 
a  niininiura  which  occurs  on  ilaich  5  at  Makei-stoun  and  March  ft 
at  the  other  stations ;  we  have  likeivise  a  well-defined  maximum 
occurring  at  all  stations  on  March  14,  and  another  occurring  at 
Trevandrum  on  March  25,  and  at  the  other  stations  on  March  26. 
Finally  we  have  a  well-defined  minimum  occurring  at  Trevandruu: 
on  Marcli  31,  and  at  the  other  stations  a  day  earlier. 

Broun  has  extended  a  similar  tixatment  to  daily  means  for 
every  hour,  and  fig.  33  conveys  a  good  idea  of  the  amount  of  sioml- 
taneity  which  obtains  in  the  changes  of  such  values  of  horizontal 
force  at  stations  far  apart. 

86.  Mccurrciicc  of  Disturbances  at  Intcnnls  of  about  Ticentij-six 
Days. — Broun-  and  likewise  Horustein^  have  observed  that  there  is 
a  tendency  in  large  magnetic  changes  to  recur  at  inten'als  of  about 
twenty-six  days.  At  first  it  was  natural  to  suppose  that  wc  have 
here  a  ma^netical  indication  of  the  true  time  of  the  sun's  synodical 
rotation,  tlie  interval  between  two  disturbances  denoting  that  wliich 
elapses  between  two  presentations  to  the  eartli  of  a  peculiarly 
powerful  solar  meridian.  It  seems  unlikely,  however,  tliat  there  ia 
a  really  permanent  one-sidedness  of  this  kind  in  onr  luminary;  but 
the  result  of  observation  seems  to  show  that  for  a  limited  period, 
say  two  or  three  years,  certaiu  meiidiaiis  of  the  sun  appear  to  be 
peculiarly  powerful.  The  cause  of  this  we  shall  not  here  discuss, 
but  simply  treat  the  phenomenon  as  a  fact  derived  from  observation. 
Broun  m  liis  paper  above  quoted  (Phil.  Trans.y  1876)  makes  the 
following  remarks : — 

"  Wc  haTo  seen  that  %vhcn  one  side  of  the  tun  Is  presented  to  the  Mrtli  lh« 
magnetic  foice  o(  the  latter  Is  greater  than  when  llic  other  side  Is  tu^-ncd  towards 
ua;  we  may  even  my  that  the  Intensity  Is  jrrealcst  for  a  pivcn  fcojar  ccvldlsn; 
this,  however,  may  be  simply  an  Integral  effect  resulting  from  the  action  du«  ta 
all  the  meridians.  But  can  we  eupp.isc  when  a  preat  und  sudden  Incrusc  or 
diminution  of  Ihc  earth  a  magnetic  force  occui-s  that  ihls  Is  produced  Ijr  aome 
change  oecurriog  oD  a  partiiuliir  Bolar  lUcrldLaD?  This  docs  Dot  seem  at  all 
improbable. 

*•  In  order  to  examine  the  facts,  all  the  eases  were  noted  durlnic  the  yean  l&H 
and  1^5  ill  which  the  dally  mean  hoiisontal  torcc  dimlnt»hed  onc-thousiindrtt  oC 
Us  whole  value  within  an  Interval  of  three  days;  they  were  found  to  be  twcnly- 
elK'it  In  numbvr.  If  we  call  the  solar  meridian  presented  lo  us  pn  the  1st  January 
Id-M  the  zero  meridian  (0),  and  con^dcr  the  time  of  rotaiton  to  be  twtnty-alx 
days,  and  that  there  ore  twenty. six  mt-rldlnns.  wc  flnd  that  the  sol  ir  meildlans 
presented  to  us  wlu-n  thcac  gicat  niovcmc  "is  occurred  may  be  an^nged  In  a  few- 
groups,  as  In  the  following  tiiblc"  [Tt^lc  XXIV..  p.  177].    - 

"  An  examination,"  continues  Droun,  "  of  this  taMe  will  show  that  nearly  half 
of  the  great  chanjicj  began  when  the  eighth  mirldijn  alter  the  xeio  had  [vuscd. 
while  five  begun  near  the  t»clfili  after,  and  Arc  near  the  lero  itb*tf.  ...  If 
any  douU  existed  as  to  Ihc  possibility  of  lhc>c  Ulng  mere  accidental  colncldcncei^ 
It  would  bo  rem-vcd.  t  think,  by  a  consideration  of  the  marked  aucccs&lon  occur* 
ring  between  July  31  (.S*o.  IS)  and  neccmb.r  II.  1*15  (Ko.  38).  ...  If  w« 
neglect  tho  two  com'S  of  July  31  nnd  August  JO,  which  commence  «t  -+0  and  +* 
respectively,  wc  have  five  cases  of  successive  solar  ititatlnns  In  which  Uie  dlmlnii- 
tloi.sof  intcnsiry  began  on  the  +8  day.  This  exuct  recurrence  at  the  end  of 
twenty-six  days  of  a  marktd  diminution  of  farce  pm^cs.  It  acems  !-■  me,  thai  tha 
aeiK'Us  ai^  all  due  to  the  sun.  whuw  timo  of  roLiilon  niu>t  be  nearly  twcDty-»ix 

•■  An  examination  wilt  show  that  the  nudden  rtlmlnntlons  of  tcrrtstrUl  nignctlc 
force  arc  In  ncwily  every  caje  ptrctded  by  a  auddi-n  Increaae." 

In  the  alwve  extract  we  bave  given  the  author's  exact  word.i,  but, 
while  thinking  with  him  that  those  actions  are  duo  to  the  sun,  it 
docs  not  appear  to  us  to  follow  that  the  timo  of  tlio  «un'»  yt^un 


TERRESTRIAL  MAGSETISM.] 


M  E  T  E  O  R  O  L  0  a.Y 


177 


must  be  ncarl}-  twenty-six  days.  This  a55«mes  that  the  meridian 
of  peculiar  power  is  fixed  on  the  solar  surface.  It  does  not,  however, 
seem  impossible  to  ima^nc  that  such  a  meridian  may  have  a  proper 
motion  of  its  own.  and  uideed  the  planetaiy  hypothesis  of  t)ie  origin 
of  sun-spots  would  rather  lead  to  this  conclusion.  But  if  this  be 
the  case  we  shall  be  unable  to  deduce  from  recun-ent  magnetic  dis- 
turbances the  true  value  of  the  period  of  solar  rotation. 

87.  Repetitions  of  Magnetic  Changes. — J.  B.  Capello,  director  of 
the  Lisbon  observatory 
{Proc.  Roy.  Soc,  October 
1868),  has  remarked 
that  at  periods  of  dis- 
turbance there  are 
nearly  synchronous 
movements  of  the  de- 
clination needle  during 
corresponding  hours  for 
two,  three,  or  more 
days.  He  thus  describes 
these  phenomena:  — 

"In  ipme  cases  the  re- 
petition is  only  in  two  or 
three  parallel  movements; 
in  otticrs  there  are  iiue 
peiiods  of  repetition  of  Boma 
hours  in  duiat Ion.  The 
repeated  peiiods  are  not 
entirclyslinUnr.  their  piuiaes 
being  so  modified  thut  in 
some  cases  their  Identity  can 
otily  be  recojrnlzed  by  a 
very  minute  investigation. 
The  same  periods,  wlien  re- 
peated, have  not  ahvays 
the  same  total  duration ;  nor 
do  they  recommence  at  the 
same  precise  hour,  but 
Bometimes  earlier  and  some- 
times later,  tlie  diEferences 
varying  from  a  few  minutes 
to  two  or  three  hoars.  We 
also  see  that  the  greatest 
number  of  repetitions  be- 
long to  the  night  hours, 
tliat  Is  to  say,  tiiose  bout's 
when  the  movements  of  the 
needle  are  easterly.  In  the 
morning  hours  there  do  not 
appear  to  be  any  well- 
m&rked  repetitions.  There 
*re  twenty-four  examples 
now  k'ivcn.  fliteen  of  wWch 
ehow  I'cpetitton  on  two 
days,  eight  on  three  days, 
and  only  one  where  the 
carvo  appears  repeHtt;d  fur 
lour  tlaya.  it  apiieara  that 
ill  the  facts  exhibited  in 
these  examples  a^ree  with 
the  cosmica]  theory;  the 
vause  (existing  In  the  sua 
•  T  Id  space)  appears  to  con- 
tinue sometimes  during  two, 
three,  or  several  days  with- 
out undergoing  remarkable 
traiisfurmjitiiins.  The  i-e- 
petitl<m,  being  sometimes 
cjriier  sometimes  later, 
seems  also  to  indicate  that 
the  cause  possesses  a  proper 
the  • 


Blsts,  but  only  comes  again 
Into  operation  when  the 
earth  by  its  dlui-nul  rota- 
tion ia  placed  In  a  similar 
position  or  conjunction  to 
that  of  the  preceding  days." 

Stewart,  having  com- 
pared Capello's  curves 
with  the  corresponding 
traces  of  the  declina- 
tion at  Kew,  found  that 
the  Lisbon  disturb- 
ances are  almost  in- 
variably reproduced  at 
Kew  at  the  same  time, 
only  to  a  greater  ex- 
tent, and  also  that  the 
same  amount  of  simi- 
larity which  thevarious 
Lisbon  curves  e.thibit 


Pig.  38. 


exhibited  in  the  corresponding  Kew  curves. 
The  strongest  point  in  favour  of  the  hypothesis  is,  he  thinks,  "not 
so  much  the  repetition  of  a  single  disturbance  as  the  repetition 
of  a  complicated  disturbance  in  most  if  not  all  of  its  sinuosities." 
Several  examples  of  this  occur  in  the  diagrams.  It  would  seem 
that  something  of  the  above  nattire  was  suspected  by  Hi'*nboldt, 
the  earliest  investigator  of  disturbances.  Humboldt  was  astonished 
to  discover  the  frequency  with  which  nocturnal  perturbations 
oocun*ed,  sometimes  recurring  at  the  same  hour  on  several  successive 

in— 9 


Table  XXIV. — Cates  in  which  tJic  EartUs  Magnetic  Fov'r  rf/m/ 
ished  One-thousandth  of  its  Valne  or  more  in  1844-45  t§  86). 


Clmiige 

Solar  .McrUliiins. 

No.  of 

Dilte 
(Jan.  1, 
1844=0). 

In  Huii- 

Case. 

tliou- 
snndtlis. 

5  to  10. 

1  to  14. 

-3t,. +1 
nnd  otbeis. 

1 

87  to    81) 

-360 

+8  to +10 

2 

iioio  nc 

-101 

+  11  to  +12 

3 

141  to  U3 

-107 

+  1110+12 

t 

189  in  190 

-116 

+7to+  8 

21;lto2l4 

-175 

+  5  to  +  6 

e 

221  to  22! 

-135 

+13  10+14 

7- 

267  to  270 

-115 

+7  to +10 

8 

273  til  2-4 

-104 

+13t»i+14 

9 

292  ro  294 

-268 

+  Gto+  S 

10 

323  to  325 

-130 

+W  10+14 

11 

3b'l  to  364 

-165 

-3  to     0 

12 

373  to  375 

-210 

+9  to +11 

13 

383  to  3S5 

-163 

(-6  to  -4) 

14 

416  to  417 

-118 

Oto+1 

15 

467  to  4C9 

-350 

-lto+1 

3 

.126  to  528 

-110 

+6  to  +  8 

17 

570  to  671 

-164 

-2  10  -1 

13 

677  to  5S0 

-102 

+6to+  9 

19 

COS  to  004 

-101 

■  +5  to  +  6 

20 

606  to  607 

-159 

+8  to  +  e 

21 

632  to  633 

— 1.W 

+8  to  +  9 

22 

646  to  648 

-126 

(-4  to  -2) 

23 

65S  to  659 

-118 

+8  to  +  9 

24 

6G8  to  670 

-100 

(-8  to  -6) 

25 

6.S4  to  687 

-100 

+  8  to  +10 

26 

696  t..  098 

-no 

(-6  to  -4) 

27 

-O'.tlo  703 

-291 

-Oto  +1 

28 

710  to  712 

-122 

+8  to  +10 

nights  (Walker's  Magnetism,  p.  80).     We  wDiild  make  two  sug- 
gestions before  dismissing  this  subject. 

(1)  If  we  imagine  that  these  changes  are  caused  by  the  solar 
influence  acting  vertically  on  some  susceptible  region  of  tire  earth, 
then,  inasmuch  as  they  occur  at  the  evening  or  early  night  houra, 
this  region  must  lie  considerably  to  the  west. 

(2)  The  region  must  also  have  a  proper  motion  of  its  own  (see 
Capello's  remark).  Is  it  possible  that  this  proper  motion  is  on 
the  whole  from  west  to  east, — a  motion  which  we  know  is  pursued 
by  meteorological  weather,  and  in  which  it  is  imagined  (§  52)  that 
magnetical  weather  as  defined  by  us  likewise  partici}>ates  ? 

88.  Comparison  of  Declination  Changes  at  Stations  near  each 
other. — Messrs  Sidgreaves  and  Stewart  (Pro.  Roy.  Soc,  October  1868) 
have  compaied  together  certain  cui-ves  of  the  Kew  and  Stonyhurst 
declination  magnetographs.  These  magnetographs  are  of  the  feame 
pattern,  and  it  was  found  that  on  ordinary  occasions  the  declination 
traces  at  both  stations  were  precisely  alike.  This  was  confirmed 
by  placing  the  curves  the  one  over  the  other,  when  they  were  found 
to  coincide  even  in  their  most  minute  features.  In  times  of  dis- 
turbance, however,  it  was  found  .that  the  motions  exhibited  by  the 
Stonyhurst  curves  were  greater  than  those  at  Kew,  and  this  excess 
of  Stonyhurst  over  Kew  depended  not  so  much  on  the  absolute 
size  of  the  disturbance  as  on  its  abruptness. 

This  feature  of  the  comparison  is  exhibited  in  the  following 
table  {XXY.),  in  which  the  excess  of  Stonyhurut  over  Kew  in  scale 
divisions  is  compared  with  the  abruptness  of  the  disturbance,  this 
element  being  measured  by  the  changes  occurring  in  unit  of  time: — 


Gronp  I. 

Gi'oup  n. 

Group  m. 

Group  IV.       1 

Excess 
(under  6). 

Abnipt- 

Excess 

(under 

10). 

AbiTjpt- 

Excess 

(under 

20). 

Abrupt- 

Excess 

(above 

20). 

Abrupt- 

2 
2 
3 
0 
0 
t 
1 
4 
3 

8-7 
6-4 
4  0 
3  1 
31 
2 '9 
1-8 
3-3 
6 '2 

6 

6 
8 
5 
8 
5 
7 
9 
S 

4-2 
2-6     1 
63 
3-3 
8-7 
3-5 
•    6--'i 
4-7 
41 

10 
10 
11 
10 
10 
16 
11 
13 

•6 

0 

7 

0 

•8 

6-4 

4-9 

7-4 

21 
25 
25 
20 
21 
21- 
22 
24 

7-3 
2-9 

10-7 
7  0 
6-6 

ll-.> 
9-6 
7-8 

Means  1-5 

3-7 

6-6 

4-9 

11 

6-5 

22 

7-9 

It  is  very  desirable  that  further  comparisons  of  this  nature  should 
be  made. 

89.  Auroral  Displays. — ^Theseare  veryfrequent  if  not  continuous 
near  the  magnetic  poles,  while  in  middle  latitudes  they  are  the  in- 
variable accompaniments  of  all  considerable  magnetic  storais.  Near 
the  equator  they  hardly  ever  occur. 

There  is  a  considerable  variety  in  the  forms  assumed  by  these 
displays,  and  it  is  possible  that  this  may  denote  a  corresponding 
variety  in  the  cause  or  causes  which  give  rise  to  this  phenomenon.  |J 

Loomis  (Smithsonian  Report  for.  1865)  specifies  five  such 
vanities:  (1)  a  horizontal  light  like  the  moniing  aurora  or  bi'eak 
of  day;  (2)  an  arch  of  light  vhich  frequently  extends  entirely, 
across  the  heavens  from  east  to  west  and  cuts  the  magnetic  meridian 


178 


M  E,T  E  O  R  O  L  0  G  Y 


[teekestrial  Mainetjsm.' 


nearly  at  right  angles, — in  the  polar  regions  five  such  arches  have 
been  seen  at  oiicc ;  (3)  slender  luminous  beams  or  columns  wcll- 
(Icfiued  and  often  of  a  bright  light;  (4)  the  corona,  the  centre  of 
which  is  invariably  near  the  magnetic  zenith,  but  not  always 
exactly  coincident  witli  it;  and  (5)  waves  or  flashes  of  light. 
f  90.  Auroras  exhibit  the  same  annual  variation  as  magnetic  dis- 
turbances, and  arc  most  frequent  about  the  equinoxes — a  fact  first 
observed  by  Maizan.  Kaemtz  in  his  Meteorology  gives  the  follow- 
ing table,  which  is  applicable  to  European  auroras. 

Table  XXVl.-^Monthl'i/  Frequency  of  Ei^ropean  Auroras. 
Jan.    Feb.    Mar.    April.    Mny.    June.    July.    Au^.    Sept.    Oct.    Kov.    Dec. 
1229      307      440       312        184         65  87        217        405       497      285      iliS 

Loomis  again  in  the  memoir  already  quoted  gives  the  distribu- 
tion of  American  auroras  over  the  various  months  derived  from  one 
hundred  and  thirteen  years'  observations  at  New  Haven  and  Boston, 
twenty-five  years'  observations  at  New  York,  and  two  years'  obser- 
vations in  Canada.  Hie  results  are  represented  in  the  following 
table  :- 

Table  XXVII. — Monthly  Frequency  of  American  Auroras, 


January... 
February.. 
March 

May..]!!.'!! 


October 

November. 
December,. 


It  appears  from  this  table  that  American  like  European  auroras 
•exhibit  a  maximum  of  frequency  about  the  equinoxes. 

91.  Since  auroras  and  magnetic  disturbances  go  together,  it  is 
natural  to  imagine  that  we  should  have  great  auroral  displays  in 
year=:  of  maximum  sun-spots.  This  is  found  to  be  the  case,  and  iu 
the  tbllowing  table  (XXVIII.)  Wolfs  proportional  numbers  denot- 
ing sun-spot  frequency  are  compared  with  the  number  of  auroras 
witnessed  in  Europe  and  America  as  compiled  by  Loomis.  It  will 
be  seen  from  this  table  that  years  of  maximum  auroras  coincide 
very  well  with  years  of  maximum  sun-spots. 


92.  "WTiile  tno  results  now  given  leave  little  doubC  u-s  to  tlr  fact 
of  a  connexion  of  some  sort  subsisting  between  sun-spot^  on  the 
one  handand  mag- 
netic disturbances 
and  auroras  on  the 
other,  yet  it  is 
desirable  to  obtain 
evidence  as  to  the 
closeness  of  the 
connexion  between 


nd   sun- 


pots 


to 


Sun-Spot 

Sun-Spot 

Auroral 

Sun-Spot 

Auroral 

1750 

Number. 
~^1 

Number. 

Nuiiibi.-!-. 

Number. 

Number. 

Number. 

31 

1794 

380 

14 

18)7 

136-9 

42 

1751 

62-1 

30 

1795 

23-8 

7 

1838 

104-1 

60 

1752 

45-9 

17 

1796 

16-6 

8 

1839 

83-4 

66 

1753 

28-9 

15 

1797 

6-5 

6 

1840 

61-8 

80 

1754 

13-5 

11 

179« 

4-6 

6 

1841 

38-6 

67 

1755 

9-3 

10 

1799 

7-1 

4 

1842 

23-0 

63 

1756 

12-2 

9 

1800 

16-6 

6 

1843 

13-1 

37 

1757 

31-9 

7 

18(11 

33-9 

6 

1844 

19-3 

39 

1768 

47-1 

1-! 

IBdS 

64-7 

6 

1845 

S8-3 

48 

1759 

61 -6 

16 

1803 

70-7 

6 

1846 

69-6 

64 

1760 

61-7 

23 

1K(14 

71-4 

14 

1847 

97-4 

76 

1761 

80-2 

22 

1805 

48 '0 

14 

1848 

124-9 

72 

1762 

60-0 

19 

1806 

28-4 

13 

1849 

96-4 

69 

1763 

4S-4 

16 

1K07 

11-1 

4 

1850 

69-8 

49 

1764 

36-7 

11 

IROR 

7-2 

2 

1861 

63-2 

65 

1765 

21-4 

8 

1R()9 

31 

1 

1852 

62-7 

67 

1766 

Ml 

6 

IHIO 

0-0 

1 

18.-.3 

38-5 

63 

1767 

35 '9 

9 

ISll 

1-0 

0 

18.54 

21-0 

35 

17C8 

66-8 

30 

IKl-i 

4-9 

1 

1855 

7-7 

20 

1769 

103-4 

40 

1R13 

12-6 

4 

1856 

6-1 

11 

1770 

9S-5 

41 

1.S14 

16-2 

6 

18.17 

22-9 

21 

1771 

86-6 

24 

1815 

36-2 

6 

1858 

66-2 

37 

1772 

65-7 

26 

1816 

46-9 

S 

1869 

90-3 

60 

1773 

39-7 

33 

IK17 

39-9 

7 

1860 

94-8 

48 

1774 

27-4 

33 

181N 

29-7 

11 

1861 

77-7 

36 

1776 

8 '8 

22 

IKl'.l 

23-5 

10 

1862 

61-0 

28 

1776 

21-7 

2-1 

1«V(I 

16-2 

8 

1863 

45-4 

29 

1777 

92-0 

38 

18.' 1 

6-1 

4 

1864 

46-2 

33 

1778 

161-7 

69 

1822 

3-9 

2 

1865 

31-4 

34 

1770 

123-4 

70 

i«2a 

2-6 

1 

1666 

14-7 

31 

1780 

89-2 

■    07 

Wti 

81 

1 

1867 

8-8 

23 

1781 

66-5 

67 

1  Hn 

16-2 

4 

1868 

36-8 

32 

1782 

38-7 

67 

i«'.'« 

35-0 

12 

1869 

78-6 

1783 

22-6 

47 

l«-.'7 

61-2 

ir 

1870 

131-8 

1781 

10-3 

39 

IS'.'H 

62-1 

21 

1871 

113-8 

1785 

26-7 

66 

ISM 

67-2 

25 

1872 

99-7 

1786 

81-2 

84 

18:lll 

67-0 

25 

1873 

671 

1787 

128-2 

108 

\m\ 

50-4 

20 

1674 

43-1 

1788 

131-3 

106 

IH32 

26-3 

13 

1876 

18-9 

lisa 

116-9 

e« 

183S 

9  4 

11 

1876 

11-7 

irao 

90-6 

68 

1HI14 

13-3 

12 

1877 

11-1 

1791 

46 

18.16 

69-0 

15 

1678 

3-8 

1792 

69-9 

37 

18;«! 

119-3 

82 

1879 

7-7 

1793 

47-3 

S3 

rA  J  _j\[\J_ 

\J 

L^ 

•  Of.   tf    mag 

mkh'[ 

f\iVn 

A     J 

f\N 

V 

\J  ' 

yv 

\)  ^ 

\J  ^ 

that    which     was 

exhibited  in  §  82. 

and  which  showed 

the  close  connexion 

in   point  of  time 

between  sun-spots 

and  disturbances. 

Loomis   has  with  pj_  gg 

this  view  treated 

auroras  in  precisely  the  same  way  in  which  he  treated  disturbances 

and  has  obtained  the  follomug  table: — 

Table  XXIX.— Extent  ofSpotUd  Solar  Surface. 

Days  before  Aurora.  Anron.  Days  after  Aaron. 


In  fig.  39  a  graphical  representation  is  given  of  the  likeness 
which  subsists  between  tho  progfrosa  of  auroral  frequency,  spot 
frequency,  and  declination  ranges. 


UO-3  527  610  61-2  63-1  53-7 


54  8  52  5  63-3  61*4  53-8  69i 


From  which  he  concludes  that  "auroral  observations  in  the  middle 
latitudes  of  America  are  generally  accompanied  by  a  maximum 
disturbance  of  the  sun's  surface  on  the  very  day  of  the  aurora," 

93.  Earth  Currents. — These  are  electrical  currents  which  take 
place  iu  the  moist  crust  of  the  earth,  and  were  first  detected  By 
W.  H.  Barlow  {Fhil.  Trans.,  1849).  At  a  later  period  they  were 
systematically  observed  and  studied  by  C.  V.  Walker  {PhiU 
Trans. ,  1 862).  They  are  now  continuously  recorded  by  photography 
at  the  Royal  Observatory,  Greenwich.  Earth  currents  are  particu- 
larly strong  during  magnetic  disturbances.  Sir  George  Airy  has 
graphically  compared  together  certain  magnetic  disturbances  as 
recorded  by  the  Greenwich  self-recording  magnetographs  and  the 
simultineous  earth  currents  recorded  by  appropriate  galvanometers 
{Phil.  Trans.j  1868),  and  finds  it  almost  impossible  to  avoid  the  con- 
clusion that  the  magnetic  distmbances  are  produced  by  terrestrial 
galvanic  currents  below  the  magnets.  Tlie  likeness  betn'een  the  two 
systems  of  graphical  representations  is  unquestionably  very  strik* 
ing.  But,  while  there  is  no  doubt  an  intimate  connexion  between 
earth  currents  and  magnetic  disturbances,  there  is  one  circum- 
stance which  should  make  us  pause  before  assigiiing  the  former 
as  the  complete  and  efficient  cause  of  the  latter.  It  is  thus 
indicated  by  Lloyd  :*- 

"  When  we  examine  the  cmTes  in  wbich  Mr  Cariow  has  represented  the  conrM 
of  the  galvanomerric  deflexions  caused  by  thu  earth  ctirrents,  we  observe  lliat  tbo 
regularity  of  that  course  is  continually  Intcrrupttd  by  rujiid  reciprocating  mora- 
ments  in  which  the  needle  oscHlaics  from  one  side  to  the  other  of  the  icro 
altcrnatfly.  These  movements  arc  similar  to  those  of  the  inngnetomctera  with 
which  we  are  f  iimiliir ;  but  they  are  much  more  n-ipld.  »»nd  bear  a  Urgcr  propor- 
tion to  the  regular  changes.  ...  I  have  selected  for  calculation  the  obser- 
vations made  during  the  six  hours  commcncinic  at  3  a.«.  <>x  May  29.  IMS,  thnt 
being  a  period  of  comparative  disturbanco.  The  »um  of  the  «hang:e*  of  tho 
galvanometer  needle  during  that  peiiod,  on  the  Derby  and  Ru(iby  line,  ««• 
equivalent  to  671  divisions  of  the  instnmient— tho  mean  d.iily  range  for  the 
entire  week  being  l\A  divisions  and  the  ratlo=£0.  .  .  .  'I'he  sum  of  the 
changes  of  tho  Greenwich  declinometer  during  tho  same  period  was  only  M 
minutes,  the  m»  nn  dally  range  being  12-4  minutes.  In  like  manner  tho  sum  ol 
the  changes  of  the  horirontal  force  was  -OIM  and  the  mean  .lally  ranjro  -0034. 
The  railo  Is  accordingly  the  sam-'  for  the  two  magnetic  elements,  i-nd  Its  amount 
Is  4-6.  or  less  than  one-tenth  of  the  corresponding  ratio  in  the  csm!  of  the  gnlvnno- 
metrlcal  changes.  Wo  learn  therefore  that  the  rapM  cliancts  of  the  caith 
currents  arc  much  gicoter  In  propoitlon  to  the  regular  dally  changes  than  lh« 
corrcsponcUiig  movements  of  the  magnetomclcrs." 

We  shall  rottim  to  this  subject  in  a  subsequent  part  of  this  article, 

94.  Inequalities  in  Terrestrial  MagnHism  caused  by  (he  Mo<nu  — 
Krcil  in  1841  was  the  first  to  point  out  that  the  moon  has  a  small 
influence  on  tho  position  of  the  declination  needle,  and  ehortly 
afterwards  the  same  fact  was  indencndently  discovered  by  John 
Allan  Broun.  Tho  more  recent  observations  of  Subino  and  of 
Broun,  but  especially  those  of  tho  latter,  have  thrown  much  light 
upon  the  nature  of  this  action.  As  tho  lunar  influence  is  not 
generally  large,  it  is  necessary  to  free  the  observations  from  tho 
results  of  other  inequalities,  and  tliis  has  bt-ondonc  by  tho  two 
observers  above  mentioned.  Tho  results  given  in  Table  XXX. 
have  been  obtained  by  Sabine  (see  "Walker's  Magnetism). 

95.  Thus  (1)  tho  mean  efl^ect  of  tho  moon  upon  the  declina- 
tion needle  is  to  cause  in  each  lunar  day  a  double  oscillation,  and 
Sabine  has  shown  that  tlie  lunar  influence  upon  tho  other  magnetic 
elements  is  of  a  similar  type.  {'2)  Tho  turning  points  for  both 
hemispheres  are  in  nil  cases  not  far  removed  from  the  lunar  hourt^ 

I  TVoiu.  Rov.  Irish  Acad.,  xxlv.  ll-V 


pSRRBSTKIAL  MAONBTISM.]  METEQEOLOGY 

Table  XXX,-ifca,i  Lunar-Diumal  rarialim  in  Dtdinatim. 


St  Releiu 


170 

latter!"    We  have  iZ:;,^ltkItZ^!^Zt.T''^'''  '''' 


Febrnury,  Jtnrch.  April, 
May,  June,  Julv .  . 

I  Aueust,  September.  October'.. 

I  Movember,  December,  January 


yef^:r.trrj  tTj'^\T^\  ^*J"  ^^'^'^  -"S-  ..c  gre..ur  ac 

.^tioV^the^rte'^n/th^'  'firx^"  "-^^  •^"'"''"■'  ^"^-  rv''^^)  -d's{et^/p%r''z"°if  rs^f hj'^  "^^rf 

^  n..o.t  aecMe.  at  th^ii-.eiil^tr^l'fc-"'A^^^^    I  XVLl /ii!  ^^  ^J^:^£i^-.^  ^^ 


Trevanurum.  and  has  ohtaJnori  .  ^""'*'^*"^3  o*  tne  lunar  influeEce  at  ,„  -^-^J 


studied  with  much  success  the  t.T  f/-"^'-?™""  has  recently 
Trevandram,  and  hS  obt^inedCm^"'"''  "^  *'  '"^a'  '">""«»«  at 
first  result  was  that  the  naLre„fTJY<.i'"^''£"""'  ''^"'*'-  His 
clination  needle  at  Trevand^m  /  tne  luattr  in&ueuce  upon  the  de- 
and  that  the  southe™  Iv^„  /?  f"*?  "P°°  "»«  «'■"«  »f  the  yeaj-, 
drum  during  So  m'^te  ?n,l  i  ""'M"'"'"  P^-^dominatos  at  Treva^l 
youths,    if  t  Scf  thrLt  '^^Tl^'T'l^^^f^ 


"TJT" •■'■■  '^  '"  «'  "»  «'^  ioj  /s  ^ 


anim  aunng  the  winter  and  f),=  n„-.vx*^,.'""ai;  irevan-  ' -"      "^-i      499      499      507       ink      VS      £j. 


declination  needle  at  TreraX,™;  *'"?"  "^  *■»«  °">'"'  <»>  th. 

year  during  the  day  thrduHn^  tl,^''^'?."'  'rl'"^  °'°''"'  "f  'he 

(XXXl.)  gfves  the  Ly  and  nllft  .t;i°l  It'  '°'-'™"'«  ^^'''^ 
and  their  ratios:—  "'S'"^ 'anges  lor  the  various  months 


<i|rer£rtf  L^|rasfd^^?e::^;7-r   '"^   '^^  ^  " 

is  greater  for  perigee  than  for  ano^«  I  "J^"''","''' variation 
mean  ratio  of  the  apogee  effect  tofh. \  ?"""  ^as  found  that  the 
nearly  He  remark^  tfat  ■'the  ratio  of  tK  ''^  ■"'  *^  a^  1  to  1  -24 
from  the  earth  in  the  half  orhit  »l„^.  ""P""  *  "^an  distance 

orbit  abdut  perigee  neariy  as  1  nr  t  .T^'"  ".*°  """' '"  "-^  ''alf 
l;23  nearly,  iJe  sfe  tha?  L  mean  r  '  °«  Vf.  '  '"'''  "''  ^'"^  '^ 
distances  are  in  the  approxim"^  ratio?  or°tI  "'•  ™"'''  ^°'  «>^  t'^" 
ino.n'8  distance  from  tfie  carTh  as  ;  '  !»  *i  '"^'"^-'  '"''''  °^""' 
99.  Lnnar-Diunial  Vari^i'^     ,i  ^*/°'7  »f  the  tides." 

Academy  of  iiencc  i"'  8^2  coSe^  t'li^Tth^'^  \  ""  '"'P^"^' 
Prague  and  Milan  tend  to  show  f  J.  ■  V  "l?  observations  at 
thelunarvariations  Sabirterw,.;  7.""^''°"°'^*  ^"'a^  Period  in 
Toronto  observations  and  a  so  S  '  f"'"'-  ,^^1,^'  'l^^  '^'■^™«d  the 
observations  with  the  v"ew  of  ieeU  nf:f  ?":>  ^«")  t^e  Hobart  Town 
come  to  the  conclusion  tha?  there  k^r,„  '"'P"^"'  Point,  and  has 
lunar.v.riation  correspondin'  to  t  f„  ^  systematic  difference  in  the 
diurnal  variation,  but  merelv  s,  !l.  '''>"°"'al  Period  ofthesol^r- 
be  reasonably  exMcted  .!^  ■  i  -  ^"*'  fluctuations  as  mieht 
which  they  rlpresTnt     ■   ~''^'''™g  the  shortness  of  the  pSs 

obsTAatlor,sTith  ?h?fi™':?7Hr''"""'°°,-<'^  '^™"''^  Trevandrum 
^nbject  For  this  purpTse  ^'e^^rvr^fke'n  th'^  ""^  "-fl  °°  '''^ 
d>umal  variations  recorded  by  him  for  t  i  '"^"?^'  "^  *^  '""ar- 
We  h»ve  in  the  first  place^roZed  tW  '°™"'  '"'  "^'^  J'^ar. 
threes,  representing  quartcrly^reS  *fe , ranges  together  into 
aether  tEeso  .ua^rly  reslr'yl'aro?^^^  auYforTri'f 


He  heliev^es^  that'such  ai-reTr^hTn,^  n^s'"  'nVSial^tl'  'V''- 
lunar.diurnal  variation.  There  are  d,n-ir„Vi  "*,  ^^^^  ''a™  » 
to  tliis  observer,  four  electrical  mt?;™^^^  "  • """  ''''^''  according 

tive,  each  nia:rimum  betrdi"aXro7tC'''™/"/'  *'™  "'^ 
point  of  no  current.  His  ?esSts  lil-.i!  l-^  •''"''  ^^  *  ^"^  "^ 
tion  or  lagging  of  the  LtWnJ.^7  •'?''"\="•'e'''arreta,da-' 
sponding  pS  of  the  mion  '^  ^f  sanations  behind  the  con* 
but  thesl  rVe  coSi^^n^Jrotfu^rot-rvl-^ont-^  ""-^ 

sunteJ^L^^^i.r  irrrSyfl^^^^'-S  P-^^P^^   *»■«*   the 
sttT-^V're"""  "^  -a."^"-  th^at  S      ^nrli^Tnr 

of  the'R^dcliffetbt^i-at  n;  '(^' foTime'toTe  "'  ^'r?''  ^T-^ 
in  years  of  maximum  sun-sno^  tJ^.  ™f "  ^^^  conclusion  that 

occurred  under  north-eSst  wim],  »  faximum  barometric  prc^iLro 
west,  while  in  veara^f\r;'Ti'  ^""^  "■"  minimum  under  south- 
minimum  pres^urlst^oknW^?  sun-spots  the  maximum  and 
east  winds.^  He  came  like^se  ff  Pf '"^lyundcr  north  and  south- 
difference  in  dist^Ztion  o^  <^«  conclusion  that,  besides  this 
the  forces  whijh  rive  rise  to  th?!''"''''"  ?'•'•?*'  "^^^^  -"arth, 
appear  to  be  more^enerStict  '^^  '"^'^'"ents  of  the  atmosphere 
ininimum  sun  °pots      ^       '°  ^"^^  of  ma.ximum  than  in  yeis  ol 

me't^iodtf'oSSn^Ltfo^at"" '■■''"  '?,""  *PP<=*^  *»  ''^  *he  best 
weU  known  ttatd°uin:TumZrTe°  ^f  "P'""?^''*  P"*^'"  ^^  '^ 
have  a  peculiarly  low  °andZ  '"tenors  of  large  continents 

high  atmospheric  pTessurewhiirr.'"^  "T"'  ="  P'i'^"'' 
reverse  obtains  dLiag  the  winter  monf>,^^n",1°    •'='"="y.  ">» 

Cnd  t^o  ba  „i^„rT"^"'  *''"'  peculiarities  of  distribution  will  U 

tho  in^i:^"^r™te%tJ^"reri^^Lt  bS^! 


180' 


JIETEOROLOGY 


[terrestrial   MAONETISM. 


Broun,  Charles  and  Frederick  Chambere,  Eliot,  and  Hi'.l,  and  the 
followin"  conchision  is  the  result  of  their  labours.  We  may  assume 
that  the  Indo- Malayan  region  has  for  the  mean  of  this  year  a 
barometric  pressure  ]irobably  below  the  general  average  of  the 
earth.  We  miglit  therefore  imafjine  that  during  yeai^  of  powerful 
solar  influence  this  peculiarity  would  he  increased.  Now  these 
V^servers  have  found  that  in  this  Indo- Malayan  region  fhe 
Urometer  is  abnormally  low  during  times  of  maximum  sun- 
spots.  Again,  western  Siberia  is  a  district  which  in  the  winter 
season  has  a  pressure  decidedly  above  the  average,  and  we  should 
therefore  imagine  that  during  years  of  powerful  solar  influence  this 
wint,=r  pressure  should  bo  peculiarly  high.  But  this  is  what 
Blanfora  has  found  in  his  discussion  of  the  Russian  stations  to 
correspond  with  years  of  maximum  suu-spota.* 

Again,  Frederick  Ch.imbers  has  enunciated  the  following  laws  as 
resulting  from  his  discussion  of  various  meteorological  records:— 

(1)  Variations  of  the  sun-spot  area  are  succeeded  some  months 
afterwards  in  the  Indo-Malayan  region  by  corresponding  abnormal 
barometric  variations,  a  high  barometer  corresponding  to  a  mini- 
mum of  sun-spots.^ 

(2)  This  lagging  behind  is  greater  for  easterly  than  for  westerly 
stations.  In  other  words,  this,  like  other  meteorological  phenomena, 
appears  to  travel  from  west  to  east. 

We  may  tlierefore  coni'ludo  that  the  barometric  evidence  a^far  as 
it  goes  is  in  favour  of  the  hypothesis  that  the  sun  is  most  powerful 
at  times  of  maximum  sun-spots. 

105.  Rainfall— Hriqhts  of  Rivera  and  Lakes.— In  1872  Mel- 
drum  of  the  Mauritius  Observatory  brought  forward  evidence 
showing  that  the  rainfalls  at  Mauritius,  Adelaide,  and  Brisbane 
were  on  the  whole  greater  in  years  of  maximum  than  in  years 
of  minimum  sun-spots.  Shortly  afterwards  it  was  shown  by 
Lockyer  {Nature,  December  12,  1872)  that  the  same  law  was 
observable  in  the  rainfalls  at  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope  and  Madras. 

Meldnim  has  since  found  that  the  law  holds  for  a  great  num- 
ber of  stations,  including  eighteen  out  of  twenty-two  European 
observatories,  with  an  average  of  thirty  years'  obseiTations  for  each. 
The  results  are  exhibited  in  the  following  table  (XXXIV.)  :— 


Name  of  Observatory. 


,  St  Petersburg.. 
.  Chilstiania  .... 
.  Edliiburch   


.  VlennR 

.  Nlcolaleff.. 


-fl3-08 
-H9-6S 
-f(i6-85 
-22-79 
-HO'95 
+  0-44 
+  22  02 
-HI  T3 
-H9-90 
-H  8-90 
-(-1384 


+  9-94 

—  18-35 
+  G-44 

-  6-16 
-11-81 
-H8-30 
+  4-06 


It  would,  however,  appear  from  the  observations  of  Governor 
Rawson  that  the  rainfall  in  Barbados  forms  an  exception  to  this 
rule,  being  grcnttst  about  the  times  of  minimum  sun-spijts. 

106.  Gustav  Wex  in  1873'  showed  that  the  recorded  depth  of 
water  in  the  rivei-s  Elbe,  Rhine,  Oder,  Danube,  and  VistulaJor  the 
Bix  sun-spot  periods  from  1800  to  1867  was  greater  at  times  of 
maximum  than  at  times  of  minimum  sun-spot  freniicncy.  These 
conclusions  have  since  been  confirmed  by  Professor  Fritz.* 

Quito  recently  Stewart  (Proc.  Lit.  and  Phil.  Soe.  of  Manchester, 
1882)  has  treated  the  evidence  given  by  Fritz  as  regards  the  Elbe 
and  Seine  in  the  following  manner.  He  divides  each  sun  period, 
without  regard  to  its  exact  lenL'th,  into  twelve  portions,  and  puts 
to'^ether  the  recorded  river  heights  corresponding  in  time  to 
similar  portions  of  consecutive  sun  periods.  He  finds  by  this 
means  residual  differences  from  the  average  representing  the  same 
law  whether  we  take  the  whole  or  either  half  of  all  the  recorded 
observations,  and  whether  we  take  the  Elbe  or  the  Seine.  The 
law  is  that  there  is  a  maximum  of  river  height  about  the  time  of 
maximum  sun-spots  and  another  subsidiary  maximum  about  the 
time  of  minimum  sun-spots.  There  is  some  reason  too  to  think 
that  the  Nile  ami  Thames  agree  with  those  rivers  in  exhibiting  a 
maximum  about  the  time  of  maximum  sun-spots  and  a  subsidiary 
ma.ximum  about  the  time  of  minimum  sun-spot-s,  only  their  aub- 
wdiarv  maximum  is  greater  than  it'ia  for  the  Elbe  and  Seine. 

I  Natvrf,  November  2.*S  and  December  2, 1880. 

'Kalurt.  Mnreh  18,  18S0, 

•  Jjimnfrur  ZeilKHiifl.  IB73.  „-.,.>  j 

'tt/rbrr  dir  II  li-hmiim  dor  SotinmJiKkm  Periodi  lu  dm  ^afnttitOnn  ma 

.f  V  ■rt-.n'rt",  rft,  „  ^«**<Af/Miinjm  rf^r  £r(/«.  Haarlem,  1878. 


107.  In  1S74  G.  M.  Dawson  came  to  the  conclusion  that  the 
levels  of  tho  gicat  American  lakes  were  highest  about  times  of 
maximum  sun-spotji.  In  this  investigation  the  value  of  the 
evidence  derived  froni  rivers  and  lakes  is  no  doubt  gi'cater  than 
that  derived  from  any  single  rainfall  station,  inasmuch  as  in  the 
former  case  the  rainfall  of  a  largo  district  is  inte^-ated  and  irregu- 
larities due  to  local  influence  thus  greatly  avoided. 

108.  Dr  Hunter,  director-general  of  statistics  in  India,  has  recently 
shown  (A^//ic(ecii/'iC«i<iir!;,Movember  1877)  that  the  recorded  (amines 
have  been  most  frequent  at  Madras  about  the  years  of  niinimuni 
sun-spots — years  likewise  associated  with  a  diminished  rainfall. 

109.  Winds  and  .«oriM.— Meldrum  of  the  -Mauritius  Obser- 
vatory found  in  1872,  as  the  result  of  about  thirty  years'  observa- 
tions, that  there  are  more  cyclones  in  the  Indian  Ocean  during 
years  of  maximum  than  during  yeai-s  of  minimum  sun-spots.^  The 
connexion  between  the  two  is  exhibited  in  the  following  table ; — 

Table  XXXV.— CoiiiTJitri'soit  of  t!te  Yearly  Number  of  Ci/drnta 
occurring  in  llu  Indian  Ocean  mitli  the  Yearly  Number  o) 
Spots  on  the  Sun. 


rega.d& 
Sun- 

Number 
ot  Hlirrl- 

Noraber 
of  Storms. 

Number 
of  Wliole 
GalM. 

Number 

of  Stiong 

Oalet. 

Total 
N'uniberof 
Cyclones. 

of 
Cjcloncs 
In  Max. 

Spo.8. 

rcrtods. 

( 

1S47 

5 

0 

0 

0 

■■•> 

Max.] 

164S 
1849 
1850 
1R51 
lSi2 
1(1.13 
1854 

« 
3 

4 
4 

t 

1 
3 

2 

0 
3 
1 
1 
3 
6 
0 

0 
2 
0 
0 

1 
0 

1^1 

7 

8 
*) 

MIn.  J 

16.15 
lejd 
1857 
1818 
1859 

3 
1 
3 
3 
3 

0 
2 

1 
3 
6 

0 

1 

0 
2 

4 

if 

4 
15) 

Max. -i 

1850 

7 

2 

0 

( 

1861 

6 

2 

2 

11> 

1862 

4 

2 

2 

1863 

S 

I 

1 

1864 

2 

1 

0 

( 

1865 

2 

3 

0 

-) 

Mln.J 

1866 

1 

2 

1 

4 

■\ 

1867 

0 

2 

6) 

186S 

3 

2 

0 

1 

3 

3 

'1 

Max. - 

ls;o 

1971 
1  1872 

1 
3 
6 

3 

1 

3 
3 

1 

llj 
13 

1873-|        * 

3 

0 

12 

-UjitoUB)'  31. 

In  1873  M.  Poey*  found  a  similar  connexion  betireen  tbe  hurri- 
canes of  the  We3t  Indies  and  the  years  ot  maximum  sun-spots. 
He  enumerated  three  hundred  and  tifty-seven  hurricanes  between 
1750  and  1S73,  and  stated  that  out  of  twelve  maxima  ten  Agreed. 

110.  In  1877  Mr  Henry  Jeula,  of  Lloyd's,  and  Dr  Hunter  found 
that  the  casualties  on  the  registered  vessels  of  the  Urvited  Kingdom 
were  t7i  per  cent,  greater  during  the  two  yeai-s  about  maximuiii 
than  during  the  two  years  about  minimum  in  tbe  solar  cycle. 

111.  Temperature. — Baxendell,  in  a  memoir  already  quoted,  was 
the  Jii-st  to  conclude  that  the  distribution  of  temperature  under 
different  winds,  like  that  of  barometric  pressure,  is  sensibly  in- 
fluenced by  tbe  changes  which  take  place  in  solar  activity.  In 
1870  Piazzi  Smyth  published  the  results  of  an  important  seriits 
of  observations  made  from  1837  to  1869  with  theniiometera  sunk 
in  the  rock  at  the  Royal  ObserViitory,  Edinburgh.  "  He  con- 
cluded from  these  that  a  hent  wave  occui-s  about  every  eleven  yeai^s, 
its  maximum  being  not  fur  from  the  minimum  of  the  sun-spot  cycle. 
Sir  G.  B.  Airy  lias  obtained  similar  results  from  the  Greenwich  ob- 
servations. In  1871  E.  J.  Stono  examined  the  temperature  obser- 
vations recorded  during  thirty  yeara  at  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope, 
and  came  to  the  conclusion  that  the  same  cause  which  leads  to  an 
excess  of  mean  annual  temperature  at  the  Cape  leads  equally  to  a 
dissipation  of  sun-spots.  Dr  W.  Kbppen  in  1873  discussed  at  great 
length  the  connexion  between  sunspoLsand  terrestrial  temperatur«» 
and  found  that  in  the  tropica  the  maximum  temperature  occurs 
fully  a  ypar  before  the  minimum  of  sun-spots,  while  in  tho  son«9 
beyond  the  troi>ics  it  occurs  two  years  after  the  minimum.  The 
regularity  and  magnitude  of  tho  temperature  wave  art  most  strongly 
marked  in  tho  tropics. 

112.  The  evidence  now  given  appears  at  first  sight  to  be  antago- 
nistic to  that  derived  from  tlie  otner  elements  both  of  magnetism 
and  meteorology,  and  to  lead  us  to  conclude  that  tho  sun  heats  us 
most  when  tlicre  are  fewest  spots  on  its  surface.  This  roncliuioo 
will  not,  however,  bo  strengthened  if  wo  examine  the  subject  with. 
greater  minuteness. 

B  Br.  Atfoc.  RfTorlt,  1872. 

A  A.  Polly,  Sur  let  Rafporti  entttUt  Tartift  SoIa{r«$  *l  ta  Ouroffant  detAntOlti. 
lU  rAtlantique-Aard,  tt  dtf  fOcean  /ndUn  Sud, 


iurnace  itself  wa;'Vo=:;;s^ic;^,o;t'i„7T;  ^'^-^-^^-^^i^e  I  j;:::::' ir^g:^^!;  i^i^^^  l^jf  ^""  t^^ir^ft,^:;^::;;:- 

a  low  mean  temperature  occurs  when  tLrT;l\  sta  ions     system  observed  around  tl.e  sun'sl  ml,  n„  'n  J       "'?  ™nvcction 

rainfall  and  a  giat  amount  of  ooml.  I  .      u  •      ''""^■■'"y  large      us  in  this  sunpQsitiou      And  if  tL  .„        »■    ^  oc.as.ous  confirm 

l'!rL°i.',!'Ar:^'"-.«f  ?"n-P0ts  than  by  tl.Tof  I  o(l\ZT^l:^.l°"J."^}'''^.' conclu1_io„s^b'y  direct  observarto,,, 

determinations  liav« 


trial  te-ip'  ratur"    From  This  -tJ^  ""'"1^^  "'^^  ^''"^''  t"^=- 

sun-spots  is  followed  in  ?  d,v  J  fP'^^"'  that  a  rapid  increase  of 

temperature  ranrat  Toronto^    Nn?  ^^-  '"  "'"T,°  "^  ^''^  '''""•■'l 

ture'range  ^ost^^robabh  denotes  ^,^1:^^;^ ''"''"'' '^-"i'"^-  I  '""Sy  is  then  pecul 

Y<^  are  thus  led  to  associlte  an  fncrea  e  of  ,M°    ^'^''  '".t'^^',  ""'^     °^  ""'  latter  fact 

thc"nttetXgl?ftttntrn?UtS"o'f°  thl  ra^y'"'^'"<'l  '^^' 
T..ost  active  at  times  of  niaximC  sTu  srots  and  ttfJl''™''"'"'^ 

oiogy  is  not  ^rsv1^nfa\  t;;f f?:;ti::tt[r  ■"^'^°'- 


this  basis  to  mtoind  t'e  t«o  fol^owf^'^f''''';""'*  P™ceed  from 
place,  what  is  t°  o  "t  e  of  the  »i^ -  ^  ""  °' '"'"  ""  ^"^ 
loagnetism?  and.  secondly  why^sth^s  infl  nJi"'"''  "'"!"  "^"^■''""' 
perceived  thin  ,.»,.t-„^,  r  ■* '  ^^"y '^  *''=»  influence  so  much  more  easily 

•     ■  '       __  ..e^'^ ,"'.'">  "^o""'-  supposed  that  tho 


of  the  sun  upon' tie  earth  '  We  havlr^jy^'Tf^^Snetic  action 
reasons,-firs  ,  because  fom  whn,  ,  "^"""l^^  '''""  this  for  two 
appears  to  us  unlikelv  that  .t  ^tnj"  "°"  ^'"'"'  "^  ^^^  '*'"'  it 
yature  upon  the  eartCsfnce'^b'ody  Vrh^h  t^nirle^r"  "'  ""^ 
ing  ve,y  strong  m,<j„etic   T,ro,ZtJ.uTJ.V'JP."^}"''  P"^"^" 


n  °t°''^*°  P""'""  '"'"•  ^"  ™"'J  have  the°rmo!elec     c  cu  ion L 


ing  ve,/  st^ng  magnetic   nro,^,-*'  a  h.gh  temperature  possess-  ever  ;    L  s4onJ  deahwiTh  ",?  ""'■'°"'  *"  '^'  atmosphere  «d,at- 

when  we  are  caUed  .^^n  ,  ^^    "■  *°  °'  "^^^  ""e  time  has  yet  arrived  tlie  dai  v  m,Vn»H         ■  .•  "^  evidence  that  changes  in  the  range  of 

discove^oTf^rthertr'irth  ""°^  ^^"''''"'  "^oessary  a^ids  to  the  i^VoluLTZT  ToTZCf^/1l' ^°"''^^^^^^^ 

mparatively  large  amaoat  of  spotted  area  i  ft-,,  »     ,  ,^  . 


18a 


METEOROLOGY 


[terrestrial  magnexism. 


*19.  Let  ns  therefore  dismiss  the  hypothesis  of  direct  action  and 
oonsiJer  that  of  Faniday.  Wo  know  both  from  observations  of  the 
declination  and  horizontal  force  {Proc.  Jioy.  Soc.,  March  22,  1877, 
aaJ  Phil.  Trans.,  18S0,  p.  541)  that  the  action  of  the  sun  in  pro- 
ducinj;  diurnal  variations  of  these  elements  is  one  and  a  half  times 
'•s  powei-fnl  at  epochs  of  maximum  as  it  is  at  epochs  of  minimum 
sin-spot  frequency.  It  is  hardly  credible  that  there  should  be 
such  a  great  ditference  on  these  occasions  in  the  sun's  heating  effect 
upon  the  great  bulk  of  the  atmosphere.  .  Meteorologists  have  never 
©bserved  such  a  difference,  nor  is  there  any  marked  corresponding 
inequality  of  diurmd  temperature  range.  Meteorological  evidence 
ie  thus  against  the  diurnal  magnetic  changes  being  due  to  the 
heating  up  by  the  sun  of  the  great  mass  of  oxygen  which  constitutes 
llie  magnetic  portion  of  the  earth's  atmosphere.  Again,  as  there  is 
ft  preponderance  of  hot  oxygen  in  the  northern  hemisphere  during 
the  June  and  in  the  southern  hemisphere  during  the  December 
solstice,  there  ought  according  to  this  theory  to  be  a.  well-marked 
annual  variation  of  the  magnetism  of  the  earth,  the  northern  hemi- 
sphere being  at  the  same  time  differently  affected  from  the  southern. 
But  there  are  no  traces  of  such  a  phenomenon,  the  annual  and  semi- 
annual variations  which  we  have  alreudy  described  (§g  64-67}  being 
of  quite  a  ilitterent  nature,  and  none  of  tliem  very  large. 

120.  Precisely  the  same  objections  apply  with  even  greater  force 
to  the  fourth  hypothesis.  It  seems  impossible  to  allow  that  any 
heating  effect  of  the  crust  of  the  earth  caused  by  the  sun  can  be  one 
and  a  half  times  as  great  at  epochs  of  maximum  as  it  is  at  epochs 
rf  minimum  sun-spot  frequency. 

121.  We  are  thus  driven  by  the  method  of  exhaustions  to  look 
lo  tlie  upper  regions  of  the  earth's  atmosphere  as  tlie  most  probable 
seat  of  the  solar  influence  in  producing  diurnal  magnetic  changes, 
and  it  need  hardly  be  said  that  the  only  conceivable  magnetic  cause 
•opable  of  operating  in  such  regions  nnist  be  an  electric  current. 
Now  we  know  from  our  study  of  the  jiurora  that  there  are  such 
rurrents  in  these  regions — continuous  near  the  pole  and  occasional 
in  lower  latitudes.  A  good  deal  has  been  said  about  the  difficulty 
of  imagining  a  daily  set  of  currents  to  be  generated  in  regions  of 
Buch  imperfect  conductivity,  but  we  shall  see  by  and  by  {§  134) 
♦feat  there  seems  ground  for  imagining  that  their  conductivity  may 
ke  much  greater  than  has  hitherto  been  supposed. 

122.  Analogies  hcticccn  the  Meteorological  and  Magiidical  Si/sk^ns 
e^  the  Eiirih. — We  liavi?  in  the  first  place  a  zone  erf  maximum  ter- 
restrial temperature,  the  middle  line  of  which  is  nearly  coinculent 
not  only  with  the  geographical  but  likewise  with  the  magnetical 
•quntor.  Again,  there  are  possibly  in  tlie.norllicrn  hemisphere 
»i\o  poles  of  gieatcbt  cold,  which  possibly  do  not  greatly  diticr  in 
position  from  those  sjiots  which  wc  have  called  magnetic  poles  or 
fpci.     Abuut  the  soutJiern  hemisphere  wc  have  no  information. 

Furthermore  we  believe  that  the  hot  air  is  carneil  from  the  zone 
•f  greatest  heat  to  tlie  place  or  places  of  greatest  cold  by  means,  no 
*oubt,  of  the  return  trades  wliicli  blow  in  the  upper  atmospheric 
regions.  The  hot  air  divides  at  this  zone,  one  part  blowing  north- 
wards in  the  nortliern  and  anotluT  soutliwanis  in  the  sonlliern 
keinisphere.  Now  this  zone,  from  which  tlic  anti-tradts  divide, 
\i*a  an  finnual  motion  of  its  own,  being  found  farthest  noith  at  the 
June  solstice  and  farthest  south  at  that  of  December  Probably  too 
the  northern  system  is  strongest  in  June  and  the  southern  system 
HI  December.  If  we  now  turn  to  the  solar  diurnal  variation  of 
Magnetic  declination,  wc  find  here  also  a  northern  and  a  southern 
system  (§  41),  the  type  of  the  one  being  antagonistic  to  that  of  the 
other.  Wc  find  also  that  the  northern  system  is  strongest  in  June 
and  the  southern  system  in  December. 

Again,  it  seems  probable  from  what  wc  have  now  said  that  the 
anti-trades,  strictly  speaking,  have  reference  not  to  the  geographical 
equator  and  poles  hut  to  the  zone  of  maximum  and  the  poles  of 
■oinimum  tempiratuie.  Now,  turning  once  more  to  the  diurnal 
•ocJUations  of  the  iU-clinatiou  needle,  it  .scenis  probable  that  the 
directions  ea^t  and  west  must  be  interpn  ted  as  having  a  reference 
not  to  the  geographical  but  to  the  magnetical  pole  (§  45). 

These  analogies  must  be  taken  for  wliat  they  arc  worth.  Our 
•hjcct  in  introducing  them  lias  reference  to  the  ])revious  discussion, 
from  which  wc  concluded  tliat  the  magnetic  inliucncc  of  the  sun  is 
probably  due  to  cunvnts  in  the  upper  rc-jlon  of  the  atmosphere — 
the  cause  of  whicli  we  were  content  to  leave  in  abeyance.  Now 
these  analogies  would  had  us  to  suggest  that  this  cause,  whatever 
it  is,  may  perhaps  be  found  to  be  ivlatcd  to  tlie  convection  sy;item 
nf  the  earth  on  the  one  hand  and  to  the  magnetic  .system  .on  tho 
•thcr. 

123.  Amiloijics  Irltrccn  Mdcorologirnl nml  Magnrfiral  Wvathrr. — 
These  remarks  arc  borne  out  by  thu  further  analogv  whieh  apj'cars 
to  subsist  betwixt  what  wc  have  termed  nut.orulngirnl  and  inng- 
netical  weather.  Let  us  take  the  Kolnr-iliurnnl  variation  oi  dedina* 
lion.  Not  only  is  tliis  variation  similar  in  form  to  the  dinrnal 
variation  of  atmospheric  temperature  (g  37),  but  the  i-anges  of  tho 
two  have  a  similar  annual  variation.  And,  as  the  element  of 
meteorological  weather  aficets  the  orderly  march  of  tho  temperature 
range,  jubt  so  tho  clement  of  magnetical  weather  aif-icts  the  orderly 
vmrch  of  the  declination  range. 


Furthermore,  just  as  tcmperatnre-range  weather  progresses  from 
west  to  east  (§  52),  so  declination-range  weather  would  seem  to  pro- 
gress in  the  same  direction  as  the  other  (§  52)  although  at  a  greater 
rate.  It  will  doubtless  require  a  more  extended  investigation  to 
mike  «3  quite  sure  of  this  latter  point  ;  neverthelesfl  we  do  not 
perceive  the  valiility  of  the  objection  that  is  sometimes  made  to  the 
hypothesis  of  progress  in  magnetic  weather  on  the  ground  that 
magnetic  influences  are  known  to  affect  all  portions  ol  the  globe 
simultaneously.  It  will,  wc  think,  bo  perceived  that  in  the  above 
statement  no  supposition  whatever  is  made  with  respect  to  the  rate 
of  propagation  of  a  magnetic  influence  through  the  earth;  this  may 
be  instantaneous  or  it  may  not.  It  is  supposed  that  wo  have  here 
a  travelling  cause  of  excitement,  say  a  travelling  cause  of  currents 
in  the  upper  regions  of  the  atmosphere  which  progiesses  from  west  to 
east  and  alw^ays  produces  its  most  marked  effect  above  those  regions 
where  it  passes^ust  as  the  sun  itself  in  passing  from  east  to  west 
produces  a  magnetic  effect  tho  various  phases  of  which  travel  from 
east  to  west  with  the  sun  which  causes  them.  We  think  too  that  this 
hypothesis  of  travelling  causes  of  magnetic  change  is  strengthened 
by  the  facts  observed  by  Capello  and  described  in  §  97. 

124.  If,  however,  the  objection  made  to  this  hypothesis  refers  to 
the  fact  disclosed  by  Broun  (§  85)  that  changes  of  horizontal  force 
appear  to  take  place  simultaneously  at  distant  parts  of  tho  earth's 
surface,  then  we  think  that  analogy  should  lead  us  not  to  deny  the 
possibility  of  a  travelling  magnetic  excitement,  but  ratlier  to  suggest 
the  possiijility  of  there  being  some  meteorological  influence  which, 
like  the  magnetical  one  above  mentioned,  may  be  found  to  take 
place  simultaneously  at  different  part3  of  the  earth's  surface.  Now 
Broun  {/'roc.  liotj.  Soc,  May  11,  1876)  has  given  us  preliminary 
evidence  for  supposing  that  there  are  simultaneous  barometric  varia- 
tions. For  instance,  there  was  a  barometric  maxiniunx  at  Hobart 
Town,  Piking,  the  Cape,  St  Helen.i,  Makerstoun,  Singapore, 
Madras,  Simla,  Ekaterinburg,  and  Bogoslovsk  about  the  end  of 
Marcher  tirst  day  of  April  1845.  There  appears  to  have  been  a 
simultaneous  increase  of  the  horizontal  force  of  tlie  earth  at  various 
stations  much  about  tlie  same  time,  and  there  also  appears  to  have 
been  a  short-period  maximum  of  spots  on  the  solar  surface.  BrouD 
has  likewise  registered  simultaneous  barometric  varintions  at  Slnga- 
pore.  Madias,  and  Simla,  for  the  first  tliree  months  of  1845.  From 
these  it  would  seem  that  simultaneous  barometric  maxima  are 
possibly  coincident  «ith  rapidly  increasing  sun-spot  areas. 

Again  is  it  not  absolutely  certain  that  if  there  is  a  sudden  increase 
of  solar  power  this  must  mean  an  iuerease  of  heat  communicated 
to  the  earth,  although  it  may  be  diflicult  or  even  impossible  to 
obtain  expi-rimcntal  eviilcnce  of  such  a  fact?  All  these  arc  sub- 
jects whieh  require  further  investigation. 

125.  Further  Pcmarks  o7i  the  Solar-Diunial  Variation  oj 
Declination.  — \w.  %  24  we  have  asked  how  far  the  action  of  the  solar- 
diurnal  force  upon  a  frcely-snspcnded  magnet  is  due  to  currents 
acting  directly  upon  the  m.ignet  and  how  far  to  a  change  produced 
in  the  magnetism  of  tho  earth.  Some  light  appears  to  be  thrown 
on  this  point  by  the  behaviour  of  the  needle  at  places  near  the 
magnetic  pole  where  the  dipping  needle  is  nearly  vertical.  On 
opposite  sides  of  this  locality  the  declination  needle  jioints  in  op|K>- 
site  directions.  Now  su|»itosc  that  wc  have  a  set  of  such  needles 
placed  all  round  this  region.  It  seems  a  legitimate  generalization 
trom  tho  oUervations  described  by  Sabine  (§  4j)  to  conclude  that 
if  wc  place  ourselves  above  the  centre  of  any  of  these  needles  at 
8  A.M.,  and  look  towards  its  market!  pole,  we  shall  find  it  in  every 
case  deflected  towards  the  ri"ht,  while  if  we  look  towards  tho  snnio 
pole  at  2  r.M.  wc  shall  timt  it  denectcd  to  the  left.  Now  if  wo 
iinaginc  that  at  3  a.m.  thei-o  arc  above  these  m.i^nets  (in  tlio  upper 
atmospheric  regions)  clcctrieal  currents  of  v.hi.h  ihc  iiorizontul 
components  form  a  set  of  positive  currents  flowing  from  the  polo  on 
all  sides,  then  by  the  known  laws  of  such  cnri-eiita  the  marked  jwlo 
of  all  Iheso  needles  will  be  dcfleeted  townnis  the  light.  Anil  if  at 
2  !'.M.  the  resolved  portions  of  such  currenis  should  be  flowing 
towai-ds  the  pole,  then  the  markcil  poles  of  all  these  needled  will  be 
deflected  towards  the  left.  It  thus  npiH-nrs  (hat  this  peculiar 
magnetic  beliaviotir  might  easily  be  e.vpl.iincd  by  a  hy|K)thclical 
distribution  of  currents.  And  In  fart  in  Muh  regions  we  have  in- 
dubitable cvi.Iencc  of  tho  e.\istemc  of  currents  in  tlic  upper  regions 
of  the  atmosphere.  On  the  oth.r  hand  this  behaviour  conhl  not 
easily  be  explained  by  tho  hypothesis  of  M>mc  definite  temporary 
ma«'netic  system  set  up  by  the  .solar  Innncuce  in  the  cnrlh,  for  in 
such  a  case'wo  should  iaj.igine  tliat  similar  ].oIes  of  nil  tho  needles 
ought  to  be  deflected  towards  tho  polo  of  this  temporary  system, 
which  is  not  the  case. 

126.  Another  point  for  consideration  is  the  possible  romplexily 
of  tho  solartlinriml  variation.  For  wo.  may  imagine  d)  that  tho 
sun  ftcti  in  mh  h  a  manner  as  to  produce  a  dinnial  variation  ;  (2)  it 
may  also  act  like  tli»  moon  (§  94)  and  prclucc  a  scmidiur'nal  varia- 
tion ;  (3)  these  possible  actions  m:ty  bo  accompanied  by  induced 
currents  in  the  upper  regions  of  the  ntniosplun:  and  in  iho  trust  of 
the  earth  ;  (4)  it  is  po<MbIc  that  the  sun's  rays  moy  nffecl  these 
variations  or  some  of  them  in  the  way  in  which  Uroun  found  that 
the  lunar  variation  at  Trevandrum  was  olTcctcd  by  the  s.in.     It 


TEBRESTRIAIi  MAGNETISM.] 

was  found  by  him  tlmt  the  lunar  action  was  oonslderably  In- 
-•rc'ased  when  the  sun  was  above  the  horizon  of  the  place. 

127.  We  have  pointed  out  (§  119)  that7  while  there  is  a  marked 
likeness  in  many  resjiects  between  the  diurnal  variation  of  declina- 
tion and  that  of  atmospheric  teu'pcrature,  vc  have  yet  no  long- 
period  fluctuation  of  the  diurnal  rauge  of  teniiitrature  at  all  com- 
parable in  magiiitnJe  to  the  magnetic  fluctuations.  It  does  not, 
nowever,  seem  difficult  to  account  for  this  difftroncc  if  we  imagine 
that  the  magnetic  fluctuations  take  their  origin  in  the  upper  atmo- 
spheric regions,  while  the  temperature  fluctuations  are  due  to  the 
lower  regions  of  the  earth's  atmosphere.  For,  as  the  sun  increases 
in  power  from  times  of  minimum  to  times  of  m.iximum  sun-spot 
frequency,  we  may  iinarine  that  a  continuously  increasing  amount 
of  aqueous  vapour  will  be  taken  into  the  earth's  atmosphere. 

Now  the  experiments  of  Tyndall  and  othei-s  induce  us  to  tliink 
that  the  air  would  under  such  circumstances  become  more  and  more 
opaque  for  certain  r:;y3  of  the  sun,  and  thus  a  continuously  decreas- 
ing proportion  of  the  sun's  heat  would  be  able  to  penetrate  into 
the  lower  atmospheric  regions.  This  latter  influence  would  triere- 
foie  operate  to  cloak,  perhaps  to  a  considerable  extent,  the  eflect  of 
the  sun's  increasing  power  ;  and  this  may  very  will  be  the  reason 
why  the  temperature  range  at  the  earth's  surface  does  not  exhibit 
the  same  eleven-yearly  inequality  as  the  declination  range. 

128.  There  seems,  however,  reason  to  believe  that  if  we  go  from 
loug  to  short  period  inequalities  there  is  a  much  greater  simQarity 
in  the  range  of  the  magnetical' and  the  meteorological  changes 
(§113).  The  explanation  seems  to  be  that  in  the  short-period  changes 
the  sun  has  not  time  to  alter  sensibly  the  constitution  of  the  atmo- 
enherc,  and  hence  the  proportional  increaw  of  efl'ect  experienced  in 
the  upper  atmospheric  regions  is  more  nearly  the  same  as  that 
experienced  near  the  surface  of  the  earth. 

1'29.  MagiKtU  DisturbaTuxs.—theK  is  strong  evidence  that  the 
most  important  disturbances  break  out  very  nearly  simultaneously 
at  widely  difierent  parts  of  the  earth,  and  that  they  even  aHect  both 
hemispheres  at  the  same  time.  Very  little,  however,  is  known 
about  the  modm  operandi  o{  the  forces  concerned  in  producing  such 
disturbances.  For  instance,  it  is  not  known  whether  a  distmbanco 
permanoutly  afi'ects  the  magnetic  state  of  the  earth,  e.g.,  whether 
one  of  the  maguotio  elements  before  a  disturbance  begins  is  sensibly 
different  m  value  from  what  it  is  after  the  disturbance  has  ceased 
to  exist  On  the  other  hand  we  know  (1)  that  disturbances  break 
out  on  the  very  day  when  there  are  rapid  changes  taking  pFace 
on  the  sun's  surface  (§  83) ;  (2)  that  they  generally  begin'  by 
momentarUy  increasing  the  horiz.'ntal  force,  but  that  the  type 

?[uicldy  changes,  so  that  during  most  disturbances  the  horizontal 
orco  is  diminished  (§  86) ;  (3)  that  large  disturbances  take  place 
more  i>articularly  about  the  equiuoxes,  when,  we  have  reason  to 
bcheve,  the  horizontal  force  of  the  earth  is  at  a  minimum  (§  77). 
May  we  not  possibly  conclude  from  these  habits  of  action  that  at 
tunes  of  disturbance  the  earth  is  magnetically  in  a  delicate  state  of 
equilibrium,  perhaps  having  more  magnetism  than  its  surroundings 
would  stnctly  warrant,  and  being  therefore  inclined  to  part  with 
some,  and  that  a  sudden  increase  of  solar  activity,  tending,  as  sui-h 
changes  probably  do,  at  first  to  exalt  the  magnetism  of  the  earth, 
nevertheless  destroys  its  magnetic  balance  and  gives  it  ultimately 
the  opportunity  of  parting  with  some  of  its  magnetism  ?  This  can 
"l^k*  '"oi"'l'2'I  as  a  sneculation,  inasmuch  as  we  do  not  know 
whether  or  not  a  disturbance  produces  any  permanent  influence 
upon  the  magnetism  of  the  earth. 

130.  Auroras  and  Earlh  Currents.— There  is  no  doubt  that  these 
phenomena  denote  electric  currents  in  the  upper  regions  of  the 
atmosphere  and  in  the  moist  conducting  crust  of  the  earth  The 
joint  in  dispute  is  with  respect  to  the  origin  of  such  currents 
Sbuie  are  inclined  to  regard  auroras  as  peculiar  manifestations  of 
atmospherical  electricity  in  high  htitudes,  while  others  imagine  that 
such  displays  are  rather  of  the  natui-e  of  induced  currents  generated 
by  small  but  abrupt  changes  taking  place  in  the  magnetism  of  the 
earth.  The  advocates  of  the  first  view  do  not  deny  that  currents 
taking  place  somehowin  the  upper  atmospheric  regionswill  havetheir 
conditions  modified,  to  some  extent  at  least,  by  the  inducing  influence 
of  magiictio  changes.  Nor  will  the  advocates  of  the  inducFion  hypo- 
thesis bo  disposed  to  deny  the  possibility  or  even  the  certainty  that 
displays  due  to  atmospherical  electricity  and  not  dissimilar  to  some 
kind  of  auBora  take  place  in  some  region  of  the  atmosphere.  But  the 
hrst  party  regard  auroras  rather  as  the  cause  than  as  the  efl'ect  of  mag- 
netic cuauges,  whereas  the  advocates  of  iuduction  regard  such  displays 
rather  as  tlie  efl'ect  than  as  the  cause  of  changes  somehow  produced 
in  the  magnetism  of  the  earth.  And  here  it  is  desirable  to  remark 
that  the  advocates  of  the  induction  hypothesis  take  for  granted  the 
magnetism  of  the  earth  and  the  changes  thereof  as  phenomena  for 
which  they  do  not  profess  to  account,  whereas  unless  we  go  to  some 
absolutely  unknown  cause  (and  this  is  against  our  present  pro- 
gramme) we  must  look  to  atmospherical  electricitv  as  likely  to  throw; 
hght  upon  the  origin  of  terrestrial  magnetism.  "We  cannot  therefore 
dispena  with  regarding  atmospherical  electricity  as  an  agent  which 
may  have  played  an  important  part  in  the  development  of  the 
jgi^eut  magnetical  condition  of  the  earth,  but  we  are  yet  of  opinion 


M  JE  T  E  O  li  O  L  0  G  T 


183 


that,  under  the  present  state  of  things,  the  theory  wh'ich  holds  by 
atmospheric  electricity  must  largely  be  supplemented  by  the  induc- 
tion hypothesis  if  It  IS  to  explain  the  peculiarities  in  type  or  fonn 
of  the  phenomena  which  observation  brings  before  us. 

131.  Professor  Tait  in  his  essay  OH-thundei^torms  attributes  ou« 
kind  of  aurora  to  atmospherical  electricity.  Such  au  aurora  is,  he 
believes,  the  manifestation  of  almost  continuous  discharges,  liko 
those  given  by  a  Holtz  machine  in  a  vacuum  tube.  The  cn'use  i« 
condensation  of  vapour  going  on  very  slowly  in  very  large  spaces  of 
air.  The  electricity  is  due  to  previous  contact  of'  particles  of  ai' 
and  vapour.  The  result  is  that  the  air-panicles  in  the  mixture  in 
time  acquire  a  definite  difference  of  potential  from  those  of  vaiwur  -^ 
so  that,  when  the  latter  aggregate,  a  misty  region  well  cliarged  is  the 
result,  and  this  discharges  to  the  oppositely  electrified  air  a\l  round; 

132.  Again,  Professor  Stokes,  without  attempting  to  account  for 
the  origin  of  atmospherical  electricity,  has  produced  an  hypothesis 
with  the  view  of  explaining  the  intimate  connexion  s'ubsistin" 
between  auroral  displays,  earth  currents,  and  magnetic  changes  on 
the  one  hand  and  outburats  of  sun-spot  activity  on  the  other.  His' 
idea  is  that  two  somewhat  distant  atmospheric  regions  A  and  B  are 
charged,  let  us  say,  with  i  positive  and  negative  electricity  respeo-' 
tively  ;  A  induces  in  the  ground  below  it  a  charge  of  negative,  B  a 
charge  of  positive  electricity.  At  first  things  are  held  in  this  state :' 
A  cannot  discharge  either  through  the  upper  atmospheric  regious' 
to  B  or  through  the  lower  regious  to  the  ground  beneath  it,  whilo' 
B  is  in  a  position  precisely  similar.  Presently,  however,  an  increase' 
of  the  radiative  power  of  the  sun  is  produced.  Such  an  increase 
would  probably  imply  not  merely  an  increase  in  general  radiation' 
but  a  particular  increase  in  such  actinic  rays  as  are  absorbed  in  the' 
upper  regions  of  the  earth's  atmosphere.  'The  layer  of  atmosphere! 
between  A  aud  B  will  therefore  greedily  absorb  such  rays,  its  tem-j 
perature  will  lise,  and,  as  is  known  to  be  the  case  for  gases,  the 
electrical  conductivity  of  the  stratum  will  be  increased.  A  dis- 
charge will  therefore  ultimately  take  place  in  the  upper  regions' 
between  A  and  B  ;  this  will  relieve  the  charges  of  uegative  and 
positive  in  the  ground  immediately  beneath  A  and  B,  and  these 
charges  wiU  therefore  rush  together  through  the  ground,  producing 
an  earth  current.  This  eaith  current  will  be  in  the  opposite  diiec-! 
tion  from  the  atmos|iheric  current,  and  the  two  will  combine  to 
represent,  virtually  at  least,  if  not  absolutely,  a  closed  circuit.  This 
ft-ill  of  coui-se  alTect  the  earth's  magnetism  and  produce  a  disturbance.^ 

183.  This  hypothesis  certainly  afl'ords  a  good  explanation  of  the 
promptness  with  which  disturbances  follow  increased  solar  activitjj 
(§  83).  Unless  we  are  to  resort  to  some  unknown  cause  it  is  diffi^ 
cult  to  think  of  any  other  possible  explanation  of  this  fact.  SucW 
an  explanation  appears  too  to  receive  corroboration  from  the  fact' 
{§  97)  that  the  lunar  influence  on  the  earth's  magnetism  as  observed] 
at  Trevandrum  is  greater  during  the  day  than  during  the  night, -J 
greater  possibly  too  at  times  of  maximum  than  at  times  of  niinimun? 
sun-spots.  AVe  are  therefore  disposed  to  accept  this  explanation  of 
the  way  in  which  increased  solar  activity  produces  magnetic  dis- 
turbance as  the  best  that  baa  been  brought  forward. 

134.  This  does  not,  however,  decide  the  disputed  point  how  far 
these  elevated  currents  are  due  to  atmospherical  electricity  and  how 
far  to  induction.  The  argument  against  tlie  possibility  of  induced 
currents  in  these  regions  is  derived  from  experiments  with  vacuum' 
tubes,  aich  as  those  recorded  by  Messrs  De  la  Rue  and  Miiller,  whichi 
would  seem  to  indicate  that  enormous  difl'erences  of  potential  would 
be  required  to  produce  electrical  currents  in  elevated  regions,  where' 
the  atmosphere  is  very  rare.  1 

Indeed,  on  account  of  these  experiments,  the  measurements  of 
the  old  observers,  who  sometimes  assigned  a  height  of  more  than' 
100  miles  to  the  aurora,  have  been  called  in  question,  and  it  has' 
been  supposed  against  direct  observation  that  these  phenomena  must' 
always  occur  in  regions  much  less  elevated.  It  would  appear  tool 
that  such  reasons  were  influential  in  determining  Professor  Stokes 
to  regard  the  aurora  as  produced  by  atmospherical  electricity  which,) 
.as  we  know  from  ordinary  lightning,  presents  us  with  enoimoua 
difl'cronces  of  potential  ;  but  it  is  to  De  remarked  that  lie  has  care- 
fully guarded  himself  against  the  possibility  of  laboratory  experi- 
ments with  vacuum  tubes  not  being  strictly  analogous  to  that  wliich 
takes  place  in  the  upper  atmospheric  regions.  Now  it  would  appear' 
that  recent  experiments  by  Hiftorf  throw  some  doubt  upon  the' 
strictness  of  this  analogy.  The  highilifference  of  potential  required 
to  force  the  curreut  through  vacuum  tubes  is,  according  to  this 
observer,  due  in  great  part  if  not  entirely  to  the  passage  of  the  fluid 
from  the  terminal  to  the  residual  air  of  the  tube,  so  that  the  poten-' 
tial  requisite  to  pass  a  current  through  a  tube  of  double  lergth  is 
not  sensibly  greater  than  that  required  for  a  tube  of  single  lengthj 
The  whole  subject  is  one  which  demands  further  investigation: 
naeanwhile  we  are  not  disposed  to  assert  the  impossibility  of  induC] 
tion  currents  taking  place  in  the  upper  atmospheric  regions.  . " 

135.  Let  us  now  consider  whether  the  form  or  type  of  the  eartS 
currents  observed  during  disturbances  favours  the  presence  of  induc- 
tion to  any  sensible  extent  The  remarks  of  Dr  Lloyd  already 
quoted  (g  93),  which  are  confinned  by  the  Greenwich  ob8erva'.l..:-3, 
seem  to  be  decisive  in  this  res^jectijhese  may  be  intei^ueted  in 


18+ 


METEOROLOGY 


[TEKKESTniAL   MAOKETISM. 


ttie  tollowingniaimor.  In  a  magnetic  disturbance  we  have  fre- 
rjuentiy  a  general  displacement  of  the  various  elements — thehori- 
juontal  force,  for  instance  ;  now  on  the  curve  which  represents  this 
slow  but  considerable  displacement  a  large  number  of  comparatively 
small  but  very  abrupt  changes  are  superimposed.  These  latter 
appearances  are  invariably  accompanied  oy  quick  and  strong  alter- 
uations  from'  positive  to  negative  of  tho  earth  currents,  while  the 
former  slow  motion,  although  it- may  be  of  large  range,  hardly 
appears  to  have  any  galvanic  equivalent  at  all  This  would  appear 
to  favour  the  induction  hypothesis,  according  to  which  small  but 
iabrupt  magnetic  changes  should  givo  rise  to  strong  earth  currents 
alternately  positive  and  negative  without  reference  to  the  position 
of  the  magnet  above  or  below  its  normal  at  the  time. 

136.  Another  fact  bearing  upon  this  hypothesis  is  that  mentioned 
in  §  88.  From  this  it  would  appear  that  on  ordinary  occasions  the 
curves  recording  the  progress  of  the  declination  needle  at  Kew  and 
Stonyhurst  are  as  nearly  as  possible  identical,  but  on  occasions  of 
ilisturbance  the  range  at  Stonyhurst  is  greater  than  that  at  Kew  by 
an  amount  not  apparently  depending  so  much  on  the  magnitude  of 
the  disturbance  as  on  its  abruptness.  The  introduction  of  the 
element 'of  abruptness  would  appear  to  be  in  favour  of  tho  mix- 
ing up  to  some  extent  of  induced  currents  with  the  phenomena  in 
question. 

137.  Sir  George  Airy  has  not  been  able  to  detect  any  resemblance 
in  form  between  the  regular  diurnal  progress  of  the  magnet  and  that 
of  the  earth  currents.  It  seems,  however,  possible  that  the  peaks 
and  hollows  alluded  to  in  §  73  may  form  an  important  and  integral 
part  of  the  daily  magnetic  movement,  and  there  even  appears  to  be 
some  evidence  that  the  diurnal  progress  of  the  earth  currents  bears 
a  nearer  resemblance  to  that  of  the  peaks  and  hollows  than  it  does 
to  the  progress  of  the  smoother  curve  which  is  usually  held  to 
represent  the  diurnal  variation.  But  this  is  a  question  which  can 
only  be  decided  by  more  prolonged  investigations. 

138.  To  conclude,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  at  times  of  great 
magnetic  disturbance  we  have  currents  in  the  upper  atmospheric 
regions  and  in  the  crust. of  the  earth  which,  so  far  as  we  can  see, 
must  either  be  due  to  atmospherical  electricity  or  to  induction,  or 
to  a  mixture  of  both.  Tho  proportions  of  this  mixture  can  only  be 
decided  by  further  inquiry  and  by  the  multiplication  of  stations 
where  atmospherical  electricity  and  earth  currents  maybe  observed. 
It  ought  to  be  mentioned  that  the  experience  of  the  Kew  observers, 
as  far  as  tlus  extends,  seems  unfavourable  to  the  hypothesis  of  a 
connexion  between  auroras  and  atmospheric  electricity. 

139.  Lunar- Semidiurnal  Variation.  —  From  the  fact  observed  by 
[Broun  (§  98)  that  the  moon's  mngnttic  influence  is  as  nearly  as 
possible  inversely  proportional  to  the  cube  of  the  moon's  distance 
irom  the  earth,  it  is  impossible  to  refrain  from  associating  it  either 
'directly  or  indirectly  with  something  having  the  type  of  tidal  action, 
but  in  what  way  this  influence  operates  we  cannot  tell.  Is  it 
possible  that  the  earth  currents  observed  by  A.  Adams  (§  101)  are 
induction  currents  generated  in  the  conducting  crust  of  the  earth 
by  the  magnetic  change  caused  by  the  moon, — inasmuch  as  these 
cuiTcnts  were  found  by  him  to  bo  .strongest  in  one  direction  about 
the  lunar  hours  3  and  15,  when  the;unar-diurnal  magnetic  effect 
is  changing  most  rapidly  in  one  direction  (§95),  while  they  were 
Tound  to  be  strongest  in  an  opposite  direction  about  the  lunar  hours 
9  and  21,  when  tho  lunar-diurnal  magnetic  effect  is  changijig  most 
rapiiJIy  in  an  opposite  direction  ? 

14{X  We  might  perhaps,  expect  from  the  analogy  of  the  titles  that 
the  sun  should  possess  a  semidiurnal  magnetic  effect  similar  in  typo 
to  that  of  the  moon.  Now  Sir  George  Airy  in  his  analysis  of  the 
earth  currents  observed  at  Greenwich  {Phil.  Trans.,  1870)  during 
days  of  tranquil  magnetism  has  detected  in  such  currents  a  semi- 
diurnal inequality  having  maxima  in  one  direction  at  solar  hours 
Sand  15,  while  it  has  maxima  in  tho  opposite  direction  at  solar  hours 
9  and  21. .  The  reference  to  solar  hours  in  this  inequality  is  thus 
precisely  similar  to  that  which  the  inequality  observed  by  Adams 
Dears  to  lunar  hours. 

141.  If  there  are  induced  currents  of  this  nature  in  the  crust  of 
the  earth,  we  might  naturally  su|>pose  that  there  will  be  correspond- 
ing currents  iu  the  upper  regions  of  the  earth's  atmosphere,  and  in 
accordance  with  the  suggestion  mado  by  Professor  Stokes  (§  132) 
we  miglit  perhaps  suppose  that  these  currents  will  be  strongest  when 
the  uppor  atmospheric  regions  are  heated  by  tho  sun  and  thereby 
rendered  better  conductors.  Is  it  not  possible  to  suppose  that  the 
influence  of  dayliglit  upon  the  lunar  magnetic  effect  discovered  by 
Ilrouii  (§  97)  may  be  due  to  this  causi*,  and  may  it  not  also  induce 
us  to  recognize  thcjpossibility  of  a  maximum  lunar  influence  (§  99) 
ut  times  of  maximum  sun-spots,  when  there  is  reason  to  believe  that 
bolar  radiation  is  most  powerful  ? 

142.  Secular  Variation. — Sabine  and  Walker  are  agreed  in 
5"ogarding  tliia  variation  as  cosniical  in  its  origin,  and  they  aro 
apparently  of  opinion  that  it  is  caused  by  somo  change  in  the  con- 
dition of  tho  sun.  It  seems  difficult  if  not  impossible  to  attribute 
it  to  anything  else,  since  the  terella  of  Hailey  cannot  be  now 
regarded  as  having  a  physical  existence.  Again  it  is  more  than 
possible — it  is  p_robubiy — that  there  wo  solar  variations  of  much 


longer  period  than  eleven  yrars.  On  tho  other  hand  the  evidence 
given  in  §  81,  tending  to  show  that  an  access  of  sun-spots  producesa 
change  in  the  magnetic  state  of  the  earth  consistent  with  the  hypo- 
thesis that  the  magnetizing  power  of  the  sun  has  then  been 
augmented,  requires  to  be  confirmed  by  more  observations ;  aud 
even  then  it  is  certain  that  this  magnetic  chango  produced  by  a 
considerable  change  in  spotted  area  is  extremely  small.  We  cannot 
therefore  regard  the  very  large  secular  magnetic  change  as  due  to  % 
non-cunmlativo  magnetic  influence  of  some  long-continued  solar 
variation  ;  nor  does  it  seem  possible  to  attribute  the  change  to 
solar  influence  at  all  unless  we  regard  this  influence  as  producing 
results  of  a  cumulative  nature. 

It  is  possible,  however,  to  regard  solar  influence  as  producing  a 
cumulative  effect  in  one  of  two  ways,  or  by  a  combination  of  both. 
For  (1)  time  is  necessarily  an  element  in  any  influence  acting  upon 
tlie  hard-iron  system  of  the  earth — presuming  the  earth  to  possess 
such  a  system.  There  are  in  fact  indications  in  the  results  of  §  82 
that  a  system  of  tliis  kind  is  perhaps  connected,  with  the  American 
pole  ;  yet,  even  allowing  the  influence  of  time,  it  seems  diliicult  to 
account  for  the  peculiarities  of  the  secular  variation  by  an  hypo* 
thcds  of  this  nature.  But  (2)  any  long-continued  variation  of  solar 
power  would  no  doubt  act  cumulatively  in  producing  an  increase  or 
diminution  of  the  large  ice-fields  round  the  poles  of  the  earth.  In 
the  course  of  time  this  cumulative  change  in  the  extent  and  dis- 
position of  these  might  perceptibly  alter  the  distribution  of  tho 
convection  currents  of  the  earth — and  these,  according  to  the  views 
lierein  indicated,  might  in  their  turn  perceptibly  alter  the  earth's 
magnetic  system. 

143.  Concluding  RemarJcs. — If  we  agree  to  look  for  an  explanation 
of  terrestrial  m^netism  and  its  changes  to  strictly  terrestrial  pro- 
cesses, we  may  derive  some  assistance  in  our  search  from  such  con- 
siderations connected  with  symmetry  as  enable  us,  for  example,  at 
once  to  perceive  that  when  two  peifectly  similar  things  are  rubbed 
together  we  cannot  have  electrical  separation,  because  there  is  no 
reason  why  the  one  should  be  positively  and  the  other  negatively 
electriBed.  Suppose  then  that  an  observer  stands  at  the  equator 
and  looks  towards  the  north,  and  then  turns  his  back  upon  the 
north  and  looks  towards  the  south.  In  the  first  position  let  him 
regard  the  northern  system  of  meteorological  processes  and  motions, 
and  in  the  second  the  southom.  ^Tow  if  symmetry  obtained  abso- 
lutely in  these  systems — that  is  to  say,  if  the  observer,  whether  he 
regarded  the  northern  or  ihe  southern  system  of  things,  had  in 
either  case  precisely  similar  phenomena  at  his  right  hand  and  at 
his  left — then  wo  should  see  no  reason  why  the  earth  t^ould  be  a 
magnet,  or  why  one  hemisphere  should  be  the  seat  of  magnetism  of 
the  one  kind  rather  than  of  the  other.  If  then  we  regard  meteoro- 
logical processes  and  motions  as  being  in  some  way  the  cause  of 
terrestrial  magnetism,  we  must  direct  our  attention  to  that  peculiar 
element  which  causes  a  want  of  perfect  symmetry  such  as  we  have 
described  in  meteorological  phenomena.  This  element  can  hiutlly 
be  anything  else  than  the  rotation  of  the  earth,  wluch  is  fi-om  left 
to  right  to  an  observer  facing  the  north,  but  from  right  to  left  to  an 
observer  facing  the  south. 

144.  Now  if  we  look  upon  the  terre.<itrial  meteorological  system 
modified  by  the  earth's  rotation  as  having  protluced  somehow  in  (he 
past  tho  magnetic  state  of  the  earth, "it  seems  most  natural  to 
regard  the  system  which  formerly  produced  this  magnetic  state  a.i 
being  likewise  that  which  at  present  nminUins  it  in  its  efficiency, 
and  which  also  accounts  for  the  various  magnetic  changes  which 
take  place.  It  would  seem  therefore  that  terrcstriul  meteorology 
and  terrestrial  magnetism  are  probably  cognate  subjects,  and  that 
they  ouglit  to  be  studied  together  in  the  well-founded  hope  thftt  the 
phenomena  of  tho  one  will  help  us  to  explain  those  of  the  other. 

Furthermore,  if  tlieso  meteorological  processes— deriving  their 
one-sided  character  from  tho  earth's  rotation— aro  to  !)o  regarded 
as  accounting  not  only  for  the  origin  but  for  the  maintenance  d' 
the  earth's  magnetic  system,  we  can  hardly  fail  to  imagine  that 
these  processes  must  derive  i>art  of  the  energy  which  they  exhibit 
from  that  of  the  earth's  rotation.  Tidal  energy  we  know  is  derived 
from  this  source  ;  but  we  must  likewise  regard  part  of  tlie  energy 
displayed  in  convection  currents  whether  in  the  air  or  iu  tho  ocean 
as  derived  no  doubt  from  the  same  sonrci-.  And  wo  may  perhaps 
allow  that  in  tho  phenomena  of  tidal  action,  as  well  as  in  those  of 
convection  currents  of  tho  nir  and  ocean,  there  may  be,  not  merely 
a  transmutation  of  actual  energy  directly  through  friction  into  heat, 
but  likewise  a  transmutation  of  it,  ultimatily  p(-rha|»s  into  hiat, 
but  first  through  tho  intermediate  agency  of  electrical  current.^ 
which  serve  to  maintain  tho  magnetic  state  of  the  earth  oud  to 
produce  magnetic  changes. 

Now  if  this  bo  the  case,  if  there  be  a  large  and  compUcatod  system 
of  tidal  and  convcrtion  currents  nil  tending  to  change  the  rotative 
energy  of  the  eartli  ultimately  into  heat,  whether  directly  through 
friction  or  indirectly  through  tho  medium  of  cleclrieity,  it  is  simdv 
iuipossible  with  tlie  present  state  of  our  knowledge  to  calculate  with 
the  smallest  pretensions  to  accuracy  at  what  rate  this  transmutJition 
is  taking  place,  and  hence  at  what  rate  tho  velocity  of  the  earth's 
rotation  is  being  slowly  dimiuished.  (B.  ^ 


1»5 


MET'H  ODISM 


I.  ■Wesieyan  Methotiism. 

THE  history  of  Wcsleyan  Methodism  embraces — (1)  the 
Methodism  of  Oxford,  which  was  strictly  Anglican 
and  rigidly  rubrical,  though  it  was  also  more  than  rubrical; 
(2)  the  evangelical  Methodism  of  the  Wesleys  after  their 
conversion  (in  1738),  tf  which  the  Wesleyan  doctrines  cf 
conversion  and  sanctification  were  tlie  manifesto  and 
inspiration,  while  preaching  and  the  class-meeting  were  the 
great  motive  and  organizing  forces, — a  movement  which 
before  Wesley's  death  had  developed  into  a  form  contain- 
ing, at  least  in  embryo,  all  the  elements  of  a  distinct 
church  organization,  although  in  its  general  designation 
and  deliberate  claims  it  purported  to  be  only  an  unattached 
spiritual  society ;  and  (3)  Weslcyan  Methodism  since  the 
death  of  Wesley,  which,  by  steps  at  first  rapid  and  after- 
wards, though  leisurely,  distinct  and  consecutive,  assumed 
an  independent  position,  and  has  grown  into  complete 
development  as  a  church. 

1.  Oxford  Methodism. — This  began  in  November  1729, 
when  John  Wesley,  returning  to  Oxford  from  Lincolnshire, 
where  he  had  been  serving  his  father  as  curate,  found  that 
his  brother  Charles  then  at  Christ  Church,  had  induced  a 
few  other  students  to  join  him  in  observing  weekly  com- 
munion. John  Wesley's  accession  lent  weight  and  character 
to  the  infant  association.  Their  first  bond  of  association, 
besides  the  weekly  communion,  was  the  common  study  of 
the  Greek  Testament,  with  which  they  joined  regular 
fasting,  the  observance  of  stated  hours  for  j)rivate  devotion, 
the  visitation  of  the  sick,  of  the  poor,  and  of  prisoners, 
and  the  instruction  of  neglected  children.  They  never 
themselves  adopted  any  common  designation,  but  of  the 
variety  of  derisive  names  they  received  from  outsiders  that 
of  "  Jlethodists "  prevailed, — a  sobriquet  the  fitness  of 
which,  indeed,  as  descriptive  of  one  unchanging  and  insepar- 
able feature  of  Wesley's  character  (which  he  impressed  also 
on  his  followers),  was  undeniable. 

This  first  Oxford  Jlethodisni  was  very  chmchly. 
Between  1733  and  173C,  however,  a  new  phase  was  devel- 
oped. Its  adherents  became  increasingly  patristic  in  their 
sympathies  and  tendencies,  and  Wesley  came  much  under 
the  influence  of  William  Law.  In  regard  to  this  period 
of  his  history,  Wesley  himself  says  that  he 

"  Iicnt  the  bow  too  far,  by  making  antiquity  a  roordinato,  ratlipr 
tli.in  a  subnrJinJtc,  rule  with  Sciiptuu-,  by  ailniitting  several 
tlonbtful  wntinj^,  by  extending  antiquity  too  far,  by  believing 
more  prarticoit  to  have  been  iniiversal  in  the  ancient  church  than 
ever  were  so.  by  not  considering  tliat  tlic  decrees  of  a  provincial 
fcynod  could  bind  only  that  province,  and  the  decrcca  of  a  general 
synotl  only  those  provinces,  whose  representatives  met  therein, 
th.Tt  most  of  those  doorecs  were  ad:ipted  to  particular  times  nnd 
occasions,  and,  conscquf  ntly,  when  those  occasions  ceased,  must 
ccaso  to  bind  even  tlioso  provinces." 

Tt  was  in  1736,  during  his  residence  in  Georgia,  whither 
he  had  gone  as  a  missionary  of  the  Propagation  Society, 
that  he  learnt  those  lessons.  Notwitlistanding  his  ascetic 
severity  and  his  rubrical  punctilios,  the  foundations  of  his 
High-Churchmanship  were  gradually  giving  way.  AVhcn 
he  returned  to  England  he  had  already  accepted  the 
doctrine  of  "  salvation  by  faith,"  although  he  had  not  as 
yet  learned  that  view  of  the  nature  of  faith  which  he  was 
afterwards  to  teach  for  half  a  century.  He  had,  however, 
as  in  the  journal  of  his  homeward  voyage  he  tells  us, 
learned,  "in  the  ends  of  the  earth,"  that  he  "who  went 
to  America  to  convert  others  was  never  himself  converted 
to  God."  In  this  result  his  Oxford  Methodism  came  to 
an  end. 

The  original  Methodism  of  Oxford  never  at  any  one 
time  seems  to  have  numbered  as  many  as  thirty  adherents. 


There  was  a  set  called  "Methodists,"  hut  there  was  no 
organization,  no  common  bond  of  special  doctrine  or  of 
discipline ;  there  were  habits  and  usages  mutually  agreed 
upon,  but  there  was  no  official  authority,  only  personal 
influence.  The  general  features  of  the  fraternity,  if  frater- 
nity it  may  be  called,  seem  to  suggest  closer  analogies 
with  the  "Tractarian"  school  in  its  earlier  stages  than 
with  anything  e'.sa  in  modern  history,  and  the  personal 
ascendency  of  John  Wesley  may  remind  us  in  some  measure 
of  the  influence  exercised  a  century  later  by  J.  H. 
Newman.  There  was  no  more  any  germ  of  permanent 
organization  in  the  Oxford  Methodism  of  1735  than  in  the 
patristic  and  "Tractarian"  school  of  Oxford  of  1833.' 

2.  Methodism  after  Wesley's  Conversion. — John  Wesley 
landed  at  Deal,  on  his  return  from  Georgia,  on  February 
1,  1738.  His  journals  on  the  homeward  voyage,  says 
Miss  Wedgwood,^  "  chronicle  for  us  that  deep  dissatisfac- 
tion which  is  felt  whenever  an  earnest  nature  wakes  up  to 
the  incompleteness  of  a  traditional  religion;  and  his  after 
life,  compared  with  his  two  years  in  Georgia,  makes  it 
evident  that,  he  passed  at  this  time  into  a  new  spiritual 
region."  r  .  ..."  By  Peter  Bbhler,'  in  the  hands  of  the 
great  God,"  he  writes  in  his  journal,  "  I  was,  on  March  S, 
fully  convinced  of  the  want  of  that  faith  whereby  wo  are 
saved."  This  "  conviction  "  was  followed  on  March  2-i  of 
the  same  year  (1738)  by  his  "conversion." 

Like  most  good  men  of  that  age  in  England,  Wesley,> 
before  he  came  under  the  influence  of  his  Moravian  teacher, 
had  regarded  faith  as  a  union  of  intellectual  belief  and  of 
voluntary  self-submission — the  belief  of  the  creeds  and 
submission  to  the  laws  of  Christ  and  to  the  rules  and 
services  of  the  church,  acted  out  day  by  day  and  hour  by 
hour,  in  all  the  prescribed  means  and  services  of  the  church 
and  in  the  general  duties  of  life.  From  this  conception 
of  faith  the  element  of  the  supernatural  was  wanting,  and 
equally  that  of  personal  trust  for  salvation  on  the  alone-' 
ment  of  Christ.  The  work  of  Bohler  was  to  convince 
Wesley  that  such  faith  as  this,  even  though  there  might 
be  more  or  less  of  divine  influence  unconsciously  mfngling 
with  its  attainment  and  exercise,  was  essentially  nothing 
else  than  an  intellectual  and  moral  act  or  habit,  a  natural 
operation  and  result  altogether  different  from  the  true 
spiritual  faith  of  a  Christian.  This  conviction  led  him  a 
few  days  afterwards  to  stand  up  at  the  house  of  the  Rev. 
Mr  Hutton,  College  Street,  Westminster,  and  declare  that 
five  days  before  he  had  not  been  a  Christian.  When 
warned  not  thus  to  despise  the  benefits  of  sacramental 
grace,  he  rejoined,  "  When  we  renounce  everything  but 
faith  and  get  into  Christ,  then,  and  not  till  then,  have  wo 
reason  to  believe  that  we  are  Christians."  It  is  true  that 
for  several  years  after  this  he  remained  High-Church  in 


'  One  evidpneo  of  this  is  to  be  fonnd  in  the  early  and  wide  diverg^^ 
cnco  of  the  varioTS  niendjepi  of  the  Oxfonl  llethocbst  company,  after 
thc-ir  brief  association  at  the  university  eanie  to  an  end.  We  know 
wliich  way  the  Wv;sleys  went ;  we  know  also  the  separate  path  that 
theirfriund  Whitelield  made  for  himself.  John  Clayton,  the  Jacobite' 
churchiiian,  settled  at  Manchester,  renounced  the  Wesleys  alter  they, 
btgaii  their  evangelical  movement,  and  remained  an  unbending  High-^ 
Chiirchnian  to  the  end.  Benjamin  Ingham  bceanic  a  gieat  evangelist 
in  Yorkshire,  founded  societies,  and,  witli  his  societies  or  churches, 
took  the  (leci-ive  step  of  leaving  the  Cliunh  of  Enel.nnd  and  embracing 
the  position  of  avowrd  Dissent.  The  saintly  Garaliold,  a  poet  as  well 
as  a  theologian  and  preacher,  became  a  Jloravian  biihop.  Jainea 
Hervey  w.as  in  after  life  a  famous  evangelical  clerBj-man,  holding 
"  Low"  and  Calvinistic  views.  These  were  the  chief  of  the  Method. 
isLs  of  Oxford. 

«  John  ^Yestey  and  the  Evangdical  Rcactim  of  tlie  18M  Century. 

'  A  disciple  of  Zinzendorf,  then  iu  Eusland  on  his  way  to  Amerioo. 


iU— a* 


186 


METHODISM 


some  of  his  principles  and  opinions,  bat  nevertheless  his 
ritualism  was  dead  at  its  roots. 

This  experience  also  made  Wesley  an  evangelist.  He 
h;id  a  forgotten  gospel  to  preach, — the  gospel  by  which 
men  were  to  be  converted,  as  he  had  been,  and  to  be  made 
"  new  creatures."  And  this  result,  this  new  birth,  was 
not  dependent  on  any  churchly  form  or  ordinance,  on  any 
priestly  prerogative  or  service,  or  on  any  sacramental  grace 
or  influence.  To  raise  up,  accordingly,  by  his  preaching 
and  personal  influence,  a  body  of  converted  men,  who 
should  themselves  become  witnesses  of  the  same  truth  by 
which  he  had  been  saved,  was  henceforth  to  be  Wesley's 
life-work.  This  was  the  inspiration  under  which  he 
became  a  great  preacher ;  this  also  made  him  an  organizer 
of  his  living  witnesses  into  classes  and  societies.  In  the 
pulpit  was  the  preaching  power ;  in  the  class-room  was  the 
private  and  personal  influence.  The  vital  link  between 
the  pulpit  and  the  class  meeting  was  the  doctrine  and 
experience  of  "conversion."  Thus  Wesleyan  Methodism 
is  derived,  not  from  Wesley  the  ritualist,  but  from  Wesley 
the  evangelist. 

Wesley's  doctrines  offended  the  clergy.  His  popularity 
as'  a  preacher  alarmed  them.  The  churches  were  soon 
shut  against  him.  He  attended  the  religious  meetings — 
on  a  Church  of  England  basis — which  had  existed  in 
London  and  elsewhere  for  fifty  years,  so  far  as  these  were 
still  open  to  him,  the  Moravian  meetings,  and  meetings  in 
the  rooms  of  private  friends,  but  these  were  quite 
insufficient  for  the  zeal  and  energy  of  himself  and  his 
brother,  who  had  been  "  converted "  a  few  days  before 
himself.  Accordingly,  in  1739,  he  followed  the  example 
set  by  'Whitefield,  and  preached  in  the  open  air  to  immense 
crowds.  In  the  same  year  also  he  yielded  to  the  urgency 
of  his  followers  and  to  the  pressure  of  circumstances, 
and,  becoming  possessed  of  an  old  building  called  "the 
Foundery,"  in  Moorfields,  transformed  it  into  a  meeting- 
house. Here  large  congregations  came  together  to  hear 
the  brothers.  About  the  same  time,  m  Bristol  and  the 
neighbouring  colliery  district  of  Kingswood,  he  found  him- 
self obliged,  not  a  little  against  his  will,  to  become  the 
owner  of  premises  for  the  purpose  of  public  preaching  and 
religious  meetings.  Here  was  the  beginning  of  that  vast 
growth  of  preaching-houses  and  meeting-rooms,  all  of  them 
for  nearly  fifty  years  settled  on  Wesley  himself,  which, 
never  having  in  any  way  belonged  to  the  Church  of 
England,  became,  through  Wesley,  the  Dossession  of  the 
'Methodist  Connexion. 

The  religious  societies  through  which  the  Wesleys,  after 
their  conversion,  exercised  at  first  their  spiritual  influence 
were  in  part,  as  has  been  intimated,  Moravian, —that  in 
Fetter  Lane,  of  which  the  rules  were  drawn  up  by  Wesley 
himself  in  1738  (May  1),  being  the  chief  of  these, — :and 
in  part  societies  in  connexion  with  the  Church  of  England, 
the  successors  of  those  Vhich  sprang  up  in  the  last  years 
of  the  Stuarts,  as  if  to  compensate  for  the  decay  of 
Puritanism  within  the  church.  In  1739,  however,  a  strong 
leaven  of  antinomian  quietism  gained  entrance  among  the 
Moravians  of  England  (Bohler  himself  having  left  for 
'America  in  the  spring  of  1738) ;  and  Wesley,  after  vainly 
contending  for  a  time  against  this  corruption,  found  it 
necessary  formally  to  separate  from  them,  and  to  establish 
a  society  of  his  own,  for  which  a  place  of  meeting  was 
already  provided  at  the  Foundery.  This  was  the  first 
society  under  the  direct  control  of  Wesley,  and  herein  was 
the  actual  and  vital  beginning  of  the  Wesleyan'  Methodist 
Society,  that  is,  of  Wesleyan  Methodism.  Hence  the 
Wesleyans  celebrated  their  centenary  in  1839.  It  was  not, 
however,  till  1743  that  Wesley  published  the  Rules  of  his 
Society  .By  that  time  not  a  few  other  local  societies  had 
been  addd  to  tl\at  at  the  Foundery,  the  three  chief  centres 


being  London,  Bristol,  and  Newcastle.  Hence  Wesley 
called  his  Society,  when  he  jiublished  the  "  Rules  "  in  1743, 
the  "United  Societies."  ilia  brother's  name  was  joined 
with  his  own  at  the  foot  of  these  Rules,  in  their  second 
edition,  dated  May  1,  1743,  and  so  remained  in  all  later 
editions  while  Charles  Wesley  lived.  Those  Rules  are  still 
the  rules  of  Wesleyan  Jlethodism.  Since  Wesley's  death 
they  have  not  been  altered.  During  his  life  only  one 
change  was  made  of  any  importance.  In  1743  the  offerings 
given  weekly  in  the  classes  were  for  the  poor,  there  being 
at  that  time  no  Conference  and  no  itinerant  preachers 
except  the  two  brothers ;  after  a  few  years  the  rules  pre- 
scribed that  the  weekly  contributions  were  to  go  "  towards 
the  support  of  the  gospel."  The  Society  is  described  as 
"a  company  of  men  having  the  form,  and  seeking  the 
jjower,  of  godliness,  united  in  order  to  (iray  together,  to 
receive  the  word  of  exhortation,  and  to  watch  over  one 
another  in  love,  that  they  may  hull)  each  other  to  work 
out  their  salvation."  "  The  only  condition  ^jjrcviously 
required  of  those  who  desire  admission  into  these  societies  " 
is  "  a  desire  to  flee  from  the  wrath  to  come,  and  to  be  saved 
from  their  sins."  The  customary  contribution  was  a 
minimum  of  a  penny  a  week  or  a  shilling  a  quarter. 

In  1739  these  societies  were  not  divided  into  "classes."; 
But  in  1742  this  further  step  in  organization  was  taken,' 
and  the  change  is  recognized  in  the  rules  of  1743.  Leadcm 
were  appointed  to  these  classes,  and  became  an  order  of 
spiritual  hel]-'ers  and  subpastors,  not  ordained  like  lay 
elders  in  the  Presbyterian  churches,  but,  like  them,  filling 
up  the  interval  between  the  pastors  that  "  labour  in  the 
word  and  doctrine"  and  the  members  generally,  and 
furnishing  the  main  elements  of  a  council  which,  in 
after  years,  grew  up  to  be  the  disciplinary  authority  in 
every  "  society."  In  every  society  there  was  from  the 
beginning  a  "  steward  "  to  take  and  give  account  of  moneys 
receTVed  and  expended.  After  a  few  years  there  were  two 
distinct  stewards,  one  being  specially  appointed  to  take 
care  of  the  poor  and  the  "  poor's  money,"  the  other  being, 
in  general,  the  "society  steward.''  And,  finally,— though 
hardly,  perhaps,  during  Wesley's  lifetime, — in  the  larger 
societies  there  came  to  be  two  stewards  of  each  description. 
The  leaders  and  stewards  together  constituted  "  the  leaders' 
meeting,"  of  which,  however,  the  complete  circle  of  funis 
tions  grew  into  use  and  into  recognition  only  by  degrees. 
The  Rules  of  the  Society,  which  are  strict  and  searching, 
relate  to  worship,  to  conduct,  and  to  the  religious  life,  but 
do  not  once  mention  or  refer  to  the  Church  of  England, 
the  parish  church,  or  ihe  parish  clergy.  The  only  authority 
at  first  was  the  personal  authority  of  the  two  brothers, 
exercised  either  directly  or  by  their  ofiicial  delegates. 
After  years  had  passed  away  the  leaders'  meeting  came  to 
have  an  important  jurisdiction  and  authority,  but  its  rights 
and  powers  were  neither  defined  nor  recognized  until  after 
Wesley's  death.  From  first  to  last  there  is  no  trace  or 
colour  of  any  Anglican  character  in  the  organization.' 
Moravians  or  Dissenters  might  have  entered  the  fellow- 
ship, and  before  long  many  did  enter  it  who  had  either 
been  Dissenters  or,  at  any  rate,  had  seldom  or  never 
entered  a  church.  What  would  to-day  bo  called  the 
"  unsectarian "  character  of  his  society  ■was,  indeed,  in 
Wesley's  view,  one  of  its  chief .  glories.  All  the  timq, 
however,  this  "  unsectarian  "  society  was  only  another 
"  sect "  in  process  of  formation.  Wesley  for  many  years 
before  his  death  had  seen  that,  unless  the  rulers  of  the 
church  should  come  to  adopt  in  regard  to  his  society  a 
policy,  of  liberal  recognition,  this  might  be'  the  outcome 
of  his  life-work.  And  it  would  seem  as  if  in  his  private 
confidences  with  himself  ho  had  come  in  the  end  at  times 
to  acquiesce  in  this  result. 

Still  more  decisive,  however,  was  the  tnird  step  in  the 


METHODISM 


187 


developoieiit  of  Wesley's  "  Society."  The  clergy  not  only 
excluded  the  Wesleys  from  their  pulpits,  but  ofte;i  repelled 
them  and  their  converts  from  the  Lord's  Supper.  This 
was  first  done  on  a  large  scale,  and  with  a  systematic 
harshness  and  persistency,  at  Bristol  in  1740.  Under 
these  circumstances  the  brothers  took  thecdecisive  step  of 
administering  the  sacrament  to  their  societies  themselves, 
in  their  own  meeting-rooms,  both  at  Bristol  and  at  Kings- 
wood.  This  practice  having  thus  been  established  at  Bristol, 
it  was  not  likely  that  the  original  society  at  the  Foundery 
would  rest  content  without  the  like  privilege,  especially  as 
some  of  the  clergy  in  London  acted  in  the  same  manner 
as  those  at  Bristol.  There  were  therefore  at  the  Foandery 
ilso  sefjaratc  administrations.  Here  then,  in  1740,  were 
two — if  we  include  Kingswood,  three — separate  local 
churches,  formed,  it  is  true,  and  both  served  and  governed 
by  ordained  clergymen  of  the  Church  of  England,  but  not 
belonging  to  that  church  or  in  any  respect  within  its 
government.  As  thereafter  during  Wesley's  life  one  of 
the  brothers,  or  some  cooperative  or  friendly  clergyman, 
was  almost  always  present  in  London  and  in  Bristol  for 
the  administration  of  the  sacraments,  these  communions, 
when  once  begun,  were  afterwards  steadily  maintained,  the 
Lord's  Supi>cr  being,  as  a  rule,  administered  weekly. 
Both  on  Sundays  and  on  week  days  full  provision  was 
made  for  all  the  si>iritual  wants  of  these  "societies,"  apart 
altogether  from  the  services  of  the  Church  of  England. 
The  only  link  by  which  the  societies  were  connected  with 
that  church — and  this  was  a  link  of  sentiment,  not  an 
organic  one — was  that  the  ministers  who  served  tb^m 
were  numbered  among  its  "priests." 

In  1741  Wesley  entered  n\K>n  his  course  of  calling  out 
lay  prcacher.t,  who  itinerated  under  his  directions.  To  the 
societies  founded  and  sustained  with  the  aid  of  these 
preachers,  who  were  entirely  and  absolutely  under  Wesley's 
])crsonal  control,  the  two  brothers,  in  their  extensive 
journeys,  administered  the  sacraments  as  they  were  able. 
The  helpers  only  ranked  as  laymen,  many  of  them,  indeed, 
being  men  of  hunlble  attainments  and  of  unpolished  ways. 
For  the  ordinary  reccjjtion  of  the  sacraments  the  societies 
in  general  were  dependent  on  the  parish  clergy,  who,  how- 
ever, not  seldom  repelled  them  from  the  Lord's  table.  So 
also  for  tlie  ordinary  opportunities  of  public  worship  they 
often  had  no  resource  but  the  parish  church.  The  simple 
service  in  their  preaching-room  was;  as  Wesley  himself 
insistecf,  defective,  as  a  service  of  public  worship,  in  some 
im^iortant  particulars ;  besides  which,  the  visits  of  the 
itinerants  were  usually,  at  least  at  first,  few  and  far 
tetwecn.  Wesley  accordingly  was  urgent  in  his  advices 
'and  iiijuiKtioMs  that  his  societies  generally  should  keep  to 
their  imri.sli  churchas  ;  but  long  before  his  death,  esiiecially 
'as  the  itiiii-'rant  preachers  improved  in  quality  and  increased 
in  number,  ihcre  was  a  growing  desire  among  the  societies 
to  have  their  own  full  Sunday  services,  and  to  have  the 
8.icranicnts  administered  by  their  own  preachers.  The 
development  of  these  preachers  into  ministers,  and  of  the 
nocictics  into  fully  organized  churches,  was,  if  not  the 
inevitable,  at  any  rate  the  natural,  result  of  the  step3 
which  Woaley  took  in  order  to  carry  on  the  work  that  waa 
tontinuallv  opening  up  before  him. 

In  1 1<4  Wusicy  licM  his  finit  Conference.  The  early  Conferences 
trore  cliicdy  iiK-fiil  for  tlic  settlement  of  pointj  of  doctrine  and 
discipline  and  for  tlio  examination  and  accrediting  of  fellow- 
labonrcre.  Tlicy  met  yearly.  Conferences  were  a  necessity  for 
Wesley,  and  iKcanio  inci  ea»in<;ly  so  as  his  work  continued  to  grow 
ii|ion  liim.  It  was  inevitable  also  that  the  powers  of  the  Conference, 
Although  for  many  years  flic  Conference  itself  only  esistod  as  it 
were  on  sulTeraiicc,  and  only  cxctL-ised  any  authority  by  the  per- 
mfeion  of  its  creator  and  head,  ahonld  coDtinoally  inci-ea.se.  Tlie 
result  u'xs  that  in  1784  Wesley  could  no  longer  delay  the  legnl 
roH'-titution  of  the  Conference,  and  that  he  was  compelled,  if  he 
vould  provide  for  the  perpetuation  of  his  work,  to  take  measures 


for  vesting  in  trustees,' for  the  iaf  of  "tho  people  callea  Kethoa- 
ista,"  under  the  jurisdiction  of  the  Cooferenco  as  to  the  appoiut- 
ment  of  ministers  and  preachers,  all  the  prvaching  places  and  trust 
property  of  the  Conneiion.  The  legal  Conference  wag  defined  as 
consisting  of  one  hundred  itinerant  jireachers  named  by  Weslev, 
and  power  was  given  to  the  "  legal  hundred  "  continually  from  the 
first  to  fill  up  the  vacancies  in  their  own  number,  to  admit  and 
expel  preachers,  and  to  station  tliem  from  year  to  year,  no  preacher 
being  allowed  to  remain  more  than  tliree  years  in  one  station. 

By  this  measure  Wesley's  work  was  consolidated  into  a  distinct 
religious  organization,  liaving  a  legally  cn.|x)rata  character  and 
large  property  ri'jbts.  And  yet  Wesley  would  not  allow  this  greftt 
organization  to  be  styled  a  "church."  It  was  only  a  "society" 
— the  "United  Society" — the  Society  of  "the  people  called  Method- 
ists"— the  "  Methodist  Society."  And  of  its  mi-inbers  all  who 
were  not  professed  Dissenters  were  by  him  reckoned  as  belonging 
to  the  Church  of  England,  although  a  large  and  increasing  pro- 
portion of  them  seldom  or  never  attended  the  services  ot  that 
church.  The  explanation  of  this  appfarent  inconsistency  is  that 
Wesley  admitted  none  to  be  Dissenters  except  such  as  were  so  ia 
the  e}e  of  the  law — those  who,  *'for  conscience  sake,  refused  to 
join  in  the  sci-viccs  of  the  chnrch  or  partake  of  the  sacraniente 
administered  therein  " — and  that  he  interpreted  "  the  Church  of 
England  "  to  mean,  as  he  wrote  to  his  brother  Charles,  "  all  the 
believers  in  England,  except  Papists  and  DUsentcrs,  who  have  tl>e 
word  of  God  and  the  sacraments  ailministcred  among  them." 

But  Wesley  waa  to  carry  liii  Society  to  a  yet  higher  pitch  of 
development,  and  one  which  made  it  still  more  dilHcult  to  dis- 
tinguish its  character  from  that  of  a  distinct  and  separate  church. 
In  17J8  Wesley  had  been  theoretically  a  High-Churchman.  For 
some  time  even  after  he  had  entered  ujion  his  conrso  of  irregular 
and  independent  evangelism  he  continued  to  hold,  in  ti.e  ahetrac^ 
High-Church  views.  But  in  1746  he  abaniloncd  once  for  aU 
bis  ecclesiastical  High-Churchmanship,  although  he  never  bccarao 
either  a  political  or  a  latitudinaiiau  Low-Churchman  after  the 
standard  and  manner  of  the  IStli  centur^y.  He  relates  in  his 
journal  under  date  Jairaary  20,  1746,  how  his  views  were  rovolo- 
tionized  by  reading  Lord  (Chancellor)  King's  account  of  tht 
primitive  (Aurch.  From  this  time  forward  he  consistently  main- 
tained that  the  "  uninterrupted  succession  was  a  fable  which  no 
man  ever  did  or  could  prove.  One  of  the  things  taught  him  J>y 
Lord  King's  book  was  that  the  office  of  bishop  was  oiiginally  oi*e 
and  the  same  with  that  of  presbyter;  and  the  practical  infcrcncv 
which  Wesley  drew  was  that  he  himself  was  a  "Scriptural  Episco- 
pos,"  and  that  he  had  as  much  right  as  any  primitive  or  missionary 
bishop  to  ordain  ministers,  as  his  representatives  and  helpers,  who 
should  administer  the  sacraments,  instead  of  himself,  to  tba 
societies  which  had  placed  themselves  under  his  spiritual  charga, 
Tliis  right,  a*  ho  conceived  it  to  be,  he  held  in  abeyance  for  nearlj 
forty  years,  but  at  leu^h  he  was  constrained  to  exercise  it,  an<( 
by  so  doin^,  in  effect  led  the  way  towards  makiag  his  Society  a 
distinct  and  independent  church. 

In  1784,  the  American  colonies  having  won  their  indep^ndeace, 
it  became  necessary  to  organize  a  separate  Methodism  for  Americ3^ 
where  Methodist  societies  had  existed  for  many  years.  Wailey 
gave  formal  ordination  and  letters  of  ordination  to  Dr  Coke,  alreadj 
a  presbyter  of  the  Church  of  England,  as  sujierintendent  ((^ 
bishop)  for  America,  where  Coke  ordained  Francis  Asbury  a* 
presbyter  and  superintendent  (or  bishop),  and  Coke  and  Asbury 
together  ordained  the  American  preachers  as  presbyters.  From 
that  ordination  dates  the  ecclesiastical  commencement  of  American 
Episcopal  Methodism— in  which  the  bishops  are  only  chief  among 
the  presbyters  whom  they  snpcrintend,  superior  in  office  but  of  th» 
same  order.  The  Episcopal  Methodism  of  America  represents  to- 
day tlic  largest  aggregate  of  Protestant  communicants  and  worship-- 
pcrs  of  the  same  ecclesiastical  name  to  be  found  in  any  one  natioa 
in  the  World. 

Tlie  following  year  (1785)  Wesley  ordained  ministers  for  Scot- 
land. There  his  societies  were  quite  outside  of  the  establiiihed 
Fresbyterianisni  of  the  day,  with  its  lukewarm  "  moderaiism  "; 
while  the  fervid  sects  which  had  seceded  from  Ihejtate  churchl 
would -hold  no  terms  with  Arminians  like  Wesley  and  his  followers 
Hence  Wesley  was  compelled  to  make  special  provision  for  tha 
admiiustration  ot  the  sacraments  in  Scotland!  Me  therefor* 
ordained  some  of  his  ablest  and  most  dignified  ]ireachers,  wa» 
careful  to  give  them  formally  in  his  correspondence  the  style  auJ 
title  of  "  Reverend,"  and  ap^inted  thftn  to  administer  the  sacra- 
ments north  of  the  Tweed.  j_ 

At  length,  in  1783,  Wesley  ordained  a  number  of  preacher*  (Mr 
Tyerman  says  seven)  to  assist  him  in  administering  the  sacraments 
to  the  societies  in  Euglaad ;  and  of  these  he  ordained  one  (Alexan- 
der Mather)  to  be  superintendent  (or  bishop),  his  brother  Charlea 
being  now  dead,  and  Dr  CoUe  sometimes  abseut  for  long  periods  is 
America.  The  number  of  societies  which  demanded  to  have- the 
sacraments  administered  to  them  in  their  own  places  of  worship 
continually  increased,  and  their  claims  were  often  too  strong  to 
bo  rcsLstil,  espcci-iUj  when  the  pariah  prieet  was  eith«  a  pobliB 


188 


METHODISM 


opponent  of  the  Methodists  or  a  man  of  disreputable  conduct. 
Roforo  Wesley's  dcatli  (in  1791)  it  would  scorn  that  tliciewcre  more 
than  a  dozen  of  hi-^  preachers  who  had  at  dilfcrcnt  times,  in  Scot- 
land or  in  England,  been  ordained  to  administer  the  sacraments. 
^  Tho  foregoing  view  of  the  development  of  Methodism  as  an 
organization,  durin;:  the  lifetime  of  its  founder,  will  have  conveyed 
a  general  idea  of  its  structure  and  polity.  There  is  one  cardinal, 
though  variable,  element  iu  its  organization,  however,  of  which 
there  has  as  yet  been  no  occasion  to  speak.  The  societies  of 
Methodism — each  of  these  consisting  of  one  or  more  *'  classes  " — 
were  themselves  grouped-  into  circuits,  each  of  which  was  placed 
under  tho  caro  of  one  or  more  of  Wesley's  Conference  preachers, 
who  were  called  his  "assistants"  or  "helpers,"  the  assistant  being 
the  chief  preacher  of  a  circuit,  and  the  helper  being  a  colleague 
and  subordinate.  The  "assistants"  were  directly  responsible  to 
Wesley,  who  had  absolute  power  over  them,  and  exercised  it 
between  the  Conferences.  The  same  power  he  etiually  possessed  in 
tho  Conference,  at  the  yearly  meetings,  but  he  made  it  a  rule, 
during  his  later  life,  to  take  counsel  with  the  Conference  as  to  all 
matters  of  importance  alfecting  the  permanent  status  of  the 
preachers  personally,  or  relating  to  the  societies  and  their  govern- 
ment. He  thus  prepared  the  Connexion,  both  preachers  and 
people,  to  accept  the  government,  and  the  legislative  control  of 
the  Conference  after  his  death. 

At  the  time  of  Wesley's  death  there  were  in  Great  Britain,  the 
Isle  of  Man,  and  the  Cliannel  Islands,  19  circuits,  227  preachers,  and 
67,562  members.  In  Ireland  there  were  29  circuits,  G7  preachers, 
and  14,006  members.  There  were  also  11  mission  circuits  in  the 
West  Indies  and  British  America,  19  preachers,  and  5300  members. 
The  number  of  members  in  the  United  States  was  returned  as 
43,265. 

it  has  already  becu  explained  that  in  connexion  with  each  society 
there  was  a  leiders*  meeting,  of  which  society  stewards  and  poor 
stewards  as  well  as  leaders  were  members.  It  must  here  be  added 
that  each  circuit  had  its  quarterly  meeting,  of  which,  at  first,  only 
the  .society  stewards  and  the  general  steward  (or  treasurer)  for  the 
circuit,  in  conjunction  with  the  itinerant  preachers,  ^ere  necessary 
members.  Leaders,  however,  in  some  circuits  were  very  early,  if 
not  from  the  first,  associat«d  with  the  stewards  in  the  quarterly 
meeting,  or  at  least  had  liberty  to  attend.  The  quavterlv  meeting 
■was  not  defined  in  Wesleyan  Methodism  until  the  year  1852.  The 
leaders'  meeting  had  no  defined  authority  until  some  years  after 
"Wesley's  death.  Discipline,  including  the  admission  and  expulsion 
of  members,  lay  absolutely  with  the  "assistant,"  subject  only  to 
appeal  to  Mr  Wesley.  Many  years,  however,  before  Wesley's  death 
it  had  become  the  usage  for  the  "  assistant,"  or,  in  his  absence,  the 
"helper,"  his  colleague,  to  consult  the  leaders'  meeting  as  to 
important  questions  either  of  appointment  to  office  or  of  discipline. 
As  the  consolidated  "  society  "  approached  towards  the  character  of 
a  "church,"  the  leaders'  meeting  began  to  acquire  the  character 
and  functions  of  a  church  court,  and  private  members  to  be  treated, 
in  regard  to  matters  of  discipline,  as  having  a  status  and  rights 
which  might  be  pleaded  before  such  a  "  court."  The  rights,  indeed, 
whicli,  soon  after  Wesley's  death,  were  guaranteed  to  leaders' 
meetings  and  members  of  society  had,  there  can  be  no  doubt,  so 
far  grown  up,  before  his  death,  as  to  be  generally  recognized  as 
undeniable. 

"  Bands"  were  a  marked  feature  in  early  Methodism,  but  in  later 
years  were  allowed,  at  least  in  their  original  form,  to  fall  out  of 
use.  There  is  no  reference  to  them  in  the  "  Minutes  of  Conference  " 
after  1768,  although  till  after  Wesley's  death  they  held  a  place  in  the 
oldest  and  laigest  societies.  Originally  there  were  usually  in  each 
considerable  society  four  bands,  the  members  of  which  were  collected 
from  the  various  society  classes — one  band  composed  of  married 
and  another  of  unmarried  men,  one  of  married  and  another  of  un- 
married women.  All  the  members  of  society,  however,  were  not 
of  neei'Esity  members  of  bands.  Some  maturity  of  experience  was 
expected,  and  it  was  the  responsibility  of  tlie  "  assistant "  to  admit 
int'i  band  or  to  exclude  from  band.  After  Mr  Wesley's  death,  where 
"  bands"  so  called  were  kept  up,  they  lost  their  private  character, 
and  bcrame  weekly  fellowship  meetings  for  the  society. 

The  "love-feast"  was  a  meeting  the  idea  of  wliich  was  borrowed 
from  the  Moravians,  but  which  was  also  regarded  as  reviving  the 
pritnitive  institute  of  the  agape.  In  tho  loi'e-fcast  the  members  of 
dilferent  societies  come  together  for  a  collective  fellow.ship  meeting. 
Ojie  feature  of  tho  meeting— a  memory  of  the  primitive  'agape— \3 
tlint  all  present  eat  a  small  portion  of  bread  or  cake  and  drink  of 
water  in  common. 

It  may  bo  supposed  that  in  such  a  system  as  Methodism  a  large 
number  of  preachers  and  cxhorters,  from  all  tho  social  grades 
Included  within  tho  societies,  could  not  but  be  continiially  raised 
np.  T.nesi-,  during  Wesley's  life,  acted  entirely  under  the  directions 
of  tho  assistant,  and  were  by  him  admitted  or  excluded,  subject  to 
an  appeal  to  Wesley.  Onco  a  quarter— often  m  conjunction  with 
the  circuit  quarterly  meeting- a  meeting  of  these  local  lay  helpers, 
called  "load  preachers,"  was  held  for  mutual  consultation  and 
yrangcmcnt,  and  to  examine  and  accredit  caudidales  for  Uio  office. 


3.  Wesleyan  Mcthodum  after  Wesley's  Death  (17^1). 
— When  Wesley  died  the  Conference  remained  as  the  bond 
of  union  and  fountain  of  authority  for  tlie  Connexion. 
But  between  the  meetings  of  Conference  Wesley  had  acted 
as  patriarch  and  visitor  with  summary  and  supreme 
jurisdiction.  The  first  need  to  be  supplied  after  his  death 
was  an  authority  for  tlie  discharge  of  this  particular  func- 
tion. In  America  Wesley  had  organized  a  system  of 
bishops  (presbyter-bishops),  presbyters  or  elders,  and 
deacons  or  ministers  on  probation.  Among  some  of  those 
preachers  who  had  been  most  intimate  with  Wesley  there 
was  a  conviction  that  his  own  judgment  would  have 
approved  such  a  plan  for  England.  No  document,  how- 
ever, remains  to  show  that  such  was  his  desire.  The  only 
request  ho  left  behind  him  for  the  Conference  to  respect 
was  one  which  rather  looked  in  another  direction — tho 
well-known  letter  produced  before  the  Conference  on  its 
first  meeting  after  his  death  by  his  friend  and  personal 
attendant,  Mr  Bradford,  in  which  he  begged  the  members 
of  the  legal  hundred  to  assume  no  advantage  over  tlie 
other  preachers  in  any  respect.  The  preachers,  accordingly, 
in  their  first  Conference  after  Wesley's  death,  instead  of 
appointing  bishops,  each  with  his  diocese  or  province, 
divided  the  country  into  districts,  and  appointed  district 
committees  to  have  all  power  of  discipline  and  directioa 
within  the  districts,  subject  only  to  an  appeal  to  the 
Conference,  all  the  preachers  exercising  equal  riglits  also 
in  the  Conference,  the  "  legal  hundred  "  merely  confirming 
and  validating  jno  forma  the  resolutions  and  decisions  of 
the  whole  assembly. 

At  first  the  preachers  stationed  in  the  districts  were 
instructed  to  elect  their  own  chairmen,  one  for  each  district. 
But  the  plan  was  speedily  changed,  and-  the  chairmen  were 
elected  each  year  by  the  whole  Conference ;  and  this 
method  has  been  maintained  ever  since.  The  "  district 
meetings"- — as  they  are  generally  called — are  still  "com- 
mittees "  of  the  Conference,  and  have  ad  interim  its  power 
and  responsibilities  as  to  discipline  and  administration. 
Originally  they  were  composed  exclusively  of  preachers, 
but  before  many  years  had  passed  circuit  stewards  and 
district  lay  officers  came  to  be  associated  with  the  preachers 
during  the  transaction  of  all  the  business  except  such  as 
was  regarded  as  properly  pastoral. 

The  relation  of  the  Conference  to  the  government  of  the 
Coimexion  having  thus  been  determined,  the  question 
which  next  arose,  and  which  occupied  and  indeed  convulsed 
the  Connexion  for  several  years  (1792-95),  was  that  of  the 
administration  of  the  sacraments,  especially  of  tho  Lord's 
Supper,  to  the  societies.  The  societies  generally  insisted 
on  their  right  to  have  tho  sacraments  from  their  own 
preachers.  Many  of  the  Avealthier  members,  however,  and 
in  particular  a  large  number  of  the  trustees  of  chapels, 
opposed  these  demands.  At  length,  between  1794  and 
1795,  after  more  than  one  attempt  at  compromise  had 
been  made  by  the  Conference,  the  feeling  of  the  societies 
as  against  the  trustees  became  too  strong  to  be  longer 
resisted,  and  accordingly  at  tho  Conference  of  1795  tho 
"  plan  of  pacification  "  was  adojited,  tho  leading  provision 
being  that,  wherever  the  majority  of  tho  trustees  of  any 
chapel,  on  the  one  hand,  ami  tho  majority  of  the  stewards 
and  leaders,  on  the  other,  consented  to  the  administration 
of  the  sacraments,  they  should  bo  administered,  but  not  in 
opposition  to  either  the  one  or  tho  other  of  those  authorities. 
In  England  tho  Ix)rd'3  Supper  was  always  to  be  adminis- 
tered after  the  Episcopal  form  ;  in  Scotland  it  might  still, 
if  nece.ssary,  be  administered,  as  it  had  commonly  been 
before,  after  tho  Presbyterian  form.  In  any  case,  howevc-, 
"  full  liberty  was  to  bo  left  to  give  out  hymns  and  'aj  ".se 
exhortation  and  cxlc.uporary  prayer."  Tho  re.-"'!:  was  that 
witbiu  a  generation  the  adJuiiniiitratico  "l  the  sacraments 


METHODISM 


189 


to  the  societies  came  to  be  the  universal  rule.  By  this 
legislation  the  preachers  assumed  the  powers  of  pastors, 
in  accordance,  however,  only  and  always  with  the  desire 
and  choice  of  their  flocks.  No  formal  service  or  act  of 
ordination  was  brought  tSto  use  till  forty  years  after- 
wards. All  preachers  on  probation  for  the  ministry, 
after  the  completion  of  their  probation,  were  "'received 
into  full  connexion  "  with  the  Conference,  this  reception  im- 
plying investment  with  all  pastoral  prerogatives.  Modern 
Methodism  has  developed  more  fiilly  and  conspicuously 
the  pastoral  idea. 

No  sooner  was  the  sacramental  controversy  settled  than 
the  further  question  as  to  the  position  and  rights  of  the 
laity  came  to  the  front  in  great  force.  A  comparatively 
email  party,  led  by  Alexander  Kilham,  imported  into  the 
discussion  ideas  of  a  republican  complexion,  and  demanded 
that  the  members  in  their  individual  capacity  should  be 
recognized  as  the  direct  basis  of  aU  power,  that  they  should 
freely  elect  the  leaders  and  stewards,  that  all  distinction 
in  Conference  between  ministers  and  laymen  should  be 
done  away  (elected  laymen  being  sent  as  delegates  from 
the  circuits  in  equal  number  with  the  ministers),  that  the 
ministry  should  possess  no  official  authority  or  pastoral 
prerogative,  but  should  merely  carry  into  effect  the 
decisions  of  majorities  in  the  different  meetings.  In  the 
course  of  a  very  violent  controversy  which  ensued,  pamphlets 
and  broadsheets,  chiefly  anonymous,  from  Kilham's  pen, 
advocating  his  views  and  containing  gross  imputations  on 
the  ministers  generally,  and  in  particular  on  some  not 
named  but  distinctly  indicated,  were  disseminated  through 
the  societies.  The  writer  was  tried  at  the  Conference  of 
1796,  condemned  for  the  publication  of  injurious  and 
unjustifiable  charges  against  his  brethren,  and  by  a  unani- 
mous vote  expelled  from  the  Conference.  In  the  follow- 
ing year  he  founded  the  "  New  Connexion,"  the  earliest  of 
the  organized  secessions  from  Wesleyan  Methodism. 

Views  much  more  moderate  than  Kilham's  prevailed  in 
the  Connexion  at  large.  At  the  Leeds  Conference  of  1797 
the  basis  was  laid  of  that  system  of  balance  between  the 
prerogatives  of  the  ministers  and  the  rights  of  the  laity 
which  has  been  maintained  in  its  principles  ever  since, 
and  which,  in  reality,  has  governed  the  recent  provisions 
(1877-78)  for  the  admission  of  lay-representatives  into  the 
Conference  not  less  than  the  former  developments  of 
Wesleyan  Methodism.  The  admission  of  members  into 
the  society  had,  up  to  1797,  been  entirely  in  the  hands  of 
the  itinerant  preachers, — that  is,  the  "assistant,"  hence- 
forth to  be  styled  the  "superintendent," and  his  "helpers." 
The  new  regulations,  without  interfering  vdth  the  power 
of  the  ministers  to  admit  members  on  trial,  declared  that 
"the  leaders'  meeting  shall  have  a  right  to  declare  any 
person  on  trial  improper  to  be  received  into  society,  and 
after  such  declaration  the  superintendent  shaU  not  admit 
such  p'erson  into  society  "  ;  also  that  "  no  person  shall  be 
expelled  from  the  society  for  immorality  till  such  immorality 
be  proved  at  a  leaders'  meeting.  "^  For  the  appointment 
of  chiu-ch  officers  (leaders  and  stewards)  the  following 
rejj.Jations  were  made,  the  second  based  on  recognized 
usage,  the  first  on  general  but  not  invariable  practice  : — 


'  In  this  regulation  it  was  assumed  that  the  old  rule  of  society  by 
■which  a  member  disqualifies  and  vritually  expels  himself  by  con- 
tinued absence  from  class,  without  reason  for  such  absence,  still 
held  good.  The  case  provides  only  for  expulsions  for  "immorality." 
Subsequent  legislation  has  introduced  a  provision  which  ensures  to 
any  member  before  he  ceases  to  be  recognized  on  account  of  non- 
attendance  the  right  of  having  his  case  brought  before  a  leaders' 
meeting  if  he  desires  it.  This  rale  of  1797  has  always  been  under- 
stood by  the  Conference  as  constituting  the  leadei-s'  meeting  in  effect 
a  jury,  leaving  the  superintendent  with  his  colleague  or  colleagues 
aradvisere  to  act  as  judge.  Appeal  has  always  lain  from  the  leaders' 
.meeting  to  the  district  meeting,  and,  finally,  to  the  Conference. 


"  1.  No  person  shall  bo  appointed  a  leader  or  steward,  or  ho 
removed  from  his  office,  but  in  conjunction  with  the  leaders'  moot- 
ing, the  nomination  to  be  in  the  superintendent,  and  the  approba- 
tion or  disapprobation  in  the  leaders'  meeting. 

"2.  1116  former  rulo  concerning  local  preacliei-s  is  confirmed, — 
viz.,  that  no  man  shall  receive  a  plan  as  a  local  preacher,  without 
the  approbation  of  a  local  preachers'  meeting." 

The  Conference  at  the  same  time  made  several  provisions 
for  canying  out  the  process,  which  had  been  going  on  for 
some  years,  of  denuding  itself  of  direct  responsibility  in 
regard  to  the  disbursement  of  the  Connexional  funds. 
The  principle  was  established  that  such  matters  were  to  be 
administered  by  the  district  committees  acting  in  corre- 
spondence with  the  quarterly  meetings  of  the  circuits.  It 
was  also  provided  that  circuits  were  not  to  be  divided 
without  the  consent  of  the  respective  quarterly  meetings  ; 
and,  finally,  it  was  resolved  that,  in  the  case  of  any  new 
rule  made  by  the  Conference  for  the  Connexion,  its  action 
within  a  circuit  might  be  suspended  for  a  year  by  the 
quarterly  meeting,  if  it  disapproved  of  the  nUe.  If,  how- 
ever, the  Conference,  after  twelve  months'  interval,  still 
adhered  to  the  new  rule,  it  was  to  be  binding  on  the  whole 
Connexion. 

The  powers  of  district  committees,  as  defined  by  former 
Conferences,  were  in  1797  confirmed  and  enhanced,  special 
powers  being  given  to  special  meetings  of  these  committees 
convened  when  necessary  to  settle  the  affairs  of  a  distracted 
circuit.  In  the  same  Conference  all  the  principal  rules 
of  Methodism,  in  regard  both  to  the  ministers  and  the 
laity,  were  collected  and  (in  a  sense)  codified,  in-iluding 
the  new  regulations  adopted  that  same  year;  and  the 
whole,  under  the  title  "  Large  Minutes,"  was  accepted  as 
binding  by  the  Conference,  each  minister  being  required 
to  sign  hiS  acceptance  individuaDy.  This  compendium, 
itself  based  on  one  which  had  been  prepared  by  Wesley, 
is  still  accepted  by  every  Wesleyan  minister  on  his  ordina- 
tion as  containing  the  rules  and  principles  to  which  he 
subscribes.  During  the  sitting  of  this  critical  Conference 
at  Leeds  an  assembly  of  delegates  from  bodies  of  trustees 
throughout  the  kingdom  was  simultaneously  held.  The 
form  of  the  regulations  enacted  by  the  Conference  was,  to 
a  considerable  extent,  determined  by  the  nature  and  form 
of  the  requests  made  by  this  body  of  trustees.  There 
was  one  request,  however,  which  the  Conference  distinctly 
declmed  to  grant — namely,  that  for  lay  delegation  lO  iha 
Conference.  The  Conference  replied  that  they  could  not 
admit  any  but  regular  travelling  preachers  into  their  body, 
and  preserve  the  system  of  Methodism  entire,  particularly 
the  "  itinerant  plan."  It  was  not  until  many  years  after- 
wards that  anything  was  heard  again  as  to  this  matter. 

By  the  settlement  now  described  the  outlines  of 
Methodism  as  an  organized  church  were  fairly  comjjleted. 
Many  details  have  since  been  filled  in,  and  many  changes 
have  been  made  in  secondary  arrangements,  but  the 
principles  of  development  have  remained  unchanged.  The 
Connexion  after  1797  had  a  long  unbroken  period  of 
peaceful  progress.  The  effect  of  the  "  Kilhamite  "  separa- 
tion, indeed,  was  after  1797  not  greatly  felt  by  the  parent 
body.  The  number  of  Methodists  in  the  United  Kingdom 
in  1796,  the  year  of  Kilham's  expulsion,  was  95,226;  in 
1797  it  was  99,519  ;  in  1798  the  New  Connexion  held  its 
first  Conference,  and  reported  5037  members,  the  number 
of  the  parent  body  being  101,682.  Nor  was  it  till  1806 
that  the  New  Connexion  reached  6000. 

During  the  period  of  quiet  growth  and  development  whidi 
followed  1797  the  influence  of  one  superior  mind  (Dr  Jaboz 
Bunting,  1779-1858)  was  to  prevail  with  increasing  sway.  Thin 
was  to  be  the  period  of  the  gradual  development  of  lay  co-operation 
in  the  administration  of  the  various  departniouts  of  Connexional 
extension  and  enterprise^a  development  which  prepared  the  way 
for  the  important  legislation  of  1852  and  following  years,  and  for 
the  ultimate  settlement  of  the  respective  provinces  auti  power* 


190 


METHODISM 


of  tlio  roinistors  and  laity  which  was  mado  in  1877-78,  It  was 
»lso  to  be  tiio  j>eriod  of  tlio  f^radual  completion  of  the  pastoral 
idea,  in  it3  practical  application"  to  tho  minijjters  of  the  body. 
TTiis  period  may  bo  dtlined  as  extending  from  tho  revoUitionnry 
opach  of  ]791-i'7  to  the  epoch  of  political  and  municipal  reform 
agitation,  182S-35,  witich  coincides  with  a  second  period  of  politico- 
ecclesiastical  agitation  in  Weslcyan  Methodism. 

In  1797  Iho  Conference,  as  already  mentioned,  had  rofnsed  to 
allow  elected  laymen — or  lay  delegates — any  place  either  In  tho 
Confereuco  or  in  district  committees.  Witliin  u  few  yeai-s  after 
ISOO,  however,  tho  practice  grew  up  for  the  circuit  stewards  to 
attend  tho  district  committees  during  the  transaction  of  financial 
business,  and  in  1815  this  usage  wiis  recognized  in  tlio  Minutes  of 
Conference  as  an  ostibiishcd  "rule,"  and  it  was  enacted  that  no 
general  incrca.se  of  tho  income  of  the  ministers  should  be  sanctioned 
by  tho  Conference  until  approved  by  a  majority  of  the  district 
eoraraittees  during  the  attendance  of  tho  circuit  stewards.  Since 
tho  adoption  of  this  rule  tho  lay  olemout  in  the  district  committees 
has  steadily  increased  and  devuloped.  Another  characteristic  mid 
important  feature  in  tlie  organization  of  "Wcsleyan  Methodism, 
which  grew  into  distin  :t  form  and  prominence -during  the  poriotl 
now  under  review,  was  that  of  the  administration  of  all  the  Con- 
noxioiial  departments,  except  such  as  were  regarded  as  properly 
pastoral,  by  iheans  of  mixed  departmental  committees,  appointed  at 
each  successive  Conference.  These  committees  made  rocoramendti- 
tions  to  tho  Conference  in  regard  to  such  new  legislation  as  they 
thought  desirable  and  to  the  appointment  orthe  members  of  com- 
niittoe;  and,  for  each  department,  a  large  committee  of  review,  of 
which  the  membera  of  the  ordinary  committee  of  management 
formed  the  nucleus,  came  to  be  held  each  year  immediately  before 
tho  Conference.  In  these  committees  the  numbers  of  ministers  and 
of  laymen  were  equal.  On  this  principle,  between  1811  and  1835, 
provision  had  been  made  for  the  management  of  all  the  funds  of 
tho  Connexion  and  their  corresponding  departments  of  administra- 
tion. Tlie  Jirst  mixed  committee  appointed  by  the  Conference  was 
tho  committer  ot  privileges  in  1803. 

The  development  of  the  pastoral  position  and  character  of  the 
ministers  of  the  body  after  1797  could  not  but  advance  on  a  line 
i-arallel  to  the  development  of  the  position  and  claims  of  tho 
laity.  In  1818  the  usage  of  the  Conference  was  conformed  to  what 
had  long  been  tho  ordinary  unofficial  custom,  and  the  preachei-s 
began  to  be  styled  in  tho  Wcsleya7i  Methodist  Magaziiie  and  in 
other  official  publications  *' Reverend,"  a  fact  which  may  seem 
tiivial,  but  which  in  reality  was  of  important  significance. 

In  1834,  after  tho  idea  had  been  long  entertained  and  the  project 
had  been  repeatedly  discussed,  it  was  determined  to  establish  a 
theological  institution  for  the  training  of  ministerial  candidates. 
There  are  now  four  colleges,  with  two  hundred  and  fifty  students. 
In  1836  the  practice  of  ordination  by  imnosition  of  hands  was 
Adopted. 

Such  advances,  however,  as  these  in  the  general  organizatiDn 
and  development  of  the  Connexion,  and  especially  in  the  status 
and  professional  training  of  tho  ministers,  could  not  be  made  in 
such  a  body  without  olfcnco  being  given  to  somo,  whose  tendencies 
were  to  disallow  any  official  distinction  between  the  ministry  and 
tho  laity,  and  who  also  objected  to  the  use  of  the  organ.  This 
levelling  clement  wa-i  strong  in  the  West  Riding  of  Yorkshire,  and 
in  1828,  on  the  placing  of  an  organ  in  Brunswick  Cbapol,  Lccds^ 
by  the  trustees,  with  the  consent  of  the  Conference,  a  violent 
agitation  broke  out.  The  ponsequence  was  a  disruption,  the  first 
binco  1793,  under  the  title  "Protestant  Methodists."  But  this 
wa:^;  absorbed,  eomo  yeara  later,  in  a  more  considerable  secession. 

In  fact,  tho  Connexion  was  in  1828  entering  on  a  period  of  agita- 
tion. Tho  current  of  political  affairs  was  approaching  the  rapids  of 
which  the  Reform  Act  marked  the  centre  and  the  point  of  maximum 
nmvemcnt.  A  body  like  Wesloyan  Methodism  could  not  but  feel 
in  gioat  force  tho  sweep  of  this  movement.  It  is  true  that  Wesloyan 
Methodism  as  such  has  never  been  political,  that  few  of  its  numbers 
cultivated  extreme  politics,  and  that  the  ministers  and  tho  better 
classes  of  the  "  Society  "  were  strongly  Conservative  in  their  general 
tone.  NcvortheloRs  the  mass  of  the  community  shared  m  tho 
giineral  movement  of  the  times,  and  tho  Conservative  tone  of  tlie 
ministers  ami  of  most  of  tho  well-to-do  laity  was  not  in  full  har- 
mony with  the  sympathies  of  tho  people  generally.  Acconliugly 
the  elements  of  disturbance,  which  only  partially  exploded  in  the 
"  I'rotestant  Methodist"  secession,  continued  to  mafto  themselves 
felt,  in  dillcront  parts  of  tho  Connexion,  duriu"  tho  following  years 
of  political  controversy.  The  decision  of  the  Conference  in  1834  to 
provide  a  college  for  the  training  of  ministerial  candidates  gave 
special  ofTouco  to  tho  malcontents.  Such  an  occasion  was  all  that 
w;is  wanting  for  tlio  various  discontents  of  the  Connexion  to  gather 
to  a  head.  Tho  domauils  made  by  tho  agitators  proceeded  on  a  basis 
of  domocratic  ecclesiasticism  such  as  it  is  very  difficult  to  apply  suc- 
cessfully to  a  system  of  associated  churches.  The  result  was  a  third 
soccssion,  based  on  the  same  general  ground  of  ercle-^iastica!  prin- 
cinles  as  tlie  two  preceding,  which  was  organized  in  1836,  and  with 
.wliich  tho  "IVotostant  Mothodistii'*  eventually  (.oalcscud.     This 


now  secession  was  known  first  as  the  '•  Wesloyan  Methodist  Associa^ 
tion  " ;  but  for  a  number  of  years  past  it  has  been  merged  in  a  still 
larger  body  of  soccders  designated  "Th«  Methodist  Tree  Cburcheb." 
Its  leader  at  tlie  fii-st  was  the  Rev.  Dr  Warren,  who  left  it,  however, 
not  many  mouths  after  it  was  formed,  and  took  orders  in  the  Church 
ofLngland.i 

The  controvorsios  of  1835-36  left  their  mark  on  the  legislation 
and  official  documonLs  of  tho  Connexion.  The  princi|des  of  1797 
remained  intact,  somo  farther  guards  only  being  added  to  prevent 
any  (hnj;cr  of  hasty  or  irresponsible  action  on  the  part  of  super- 
intendents, and  at  tho  same  timo  "minor  district  meetings*'  being 
organized  in  order  to  facilitate  appeals.  One  error  was,  liowever, 
committed  by  the  Conference.  In  1797  no  provision  ha»l  been  made 
for  bringing  the  circuit,  through  its  quarterly  meeting,  into  direct 
relations  with  the  Conference.  In  1636  a  right  of  direct  memorial 
to  the  Conference  was  ijiven  to  the  circuit  nmirtcrly  meeting;  but  it 
was  so  fenced  round  witJi  conditions  and  limitations  as  to  make  it 
practically  inoperative,  and  at  the  same  timo  provocative  of  sus- 
picion and  irriUtion. 

Tiio  efl'ect  of  the  secession  of  1836  on  the  general  progress  of  the 
Connexion  was  not  great.     The  number  of  members  icported  iu 

1835  in  Great  Britain  and  Ireland  was  37l,2iil  (tlieio  being  a 
decrease  in  England  of  951),  in  1836  381,369,  in  1837  384,723.  For 
tho  next  ten  years  the  advance  of  the  Connexion  in  numbci-s  and  in 
general  prosperity  was  apparently  unprecedented.  Tlio  Centenary 
Fund  of  1839-40  amounted  to  £221,000.  In  the  midst,  however, 
of  all  the  outward  prosperity  of  Methodism — partly  perliaps  in  con- 
sequence of  it — very  perilous  elements  were  at  work.  The  revolu- 
tionary ideas  of  tho  Chartist  period  (1840-48  and  of  Continental 
politics  (1848-49)  reacted  on  Wesloyan  Methodism  us  the  political 
ideas  of  1791  and  of  1831  had  done  at  those  epochs.  The  embers 
of  old  controversies — ecclesiastical.  qua'^i-]>olitical,  and  personal — 
still  smouldered,  and  at  length  burst  into  fresh  flame,  jprom  1844 
a  stroll"  spirit  of  opposition  to  the  leaders  of  tho  Connexion,  and 
especially  to  Dr  Hunting,  was  fanne<l  by  the  circulation  of  anony- 
mous "ny  leaves"  of  a  very  scurrilous  character.  At  the  same 
time  the  policy  of  the  Conference  and  of  the  ministers  in  their  cir- 
cuits had  proceeded  more  than  was  wise  on  the  old  lines.  The 
general  administration  relied  too  much  on  the  footing  of  implicit 
confidence  on  the  part  of  the  peojilo  and  on  the  power  of  official 
prerogative  in  the  hands  of  tlio  minister.     The  memorial  law  of 

1836  was  indicative  of  the  too  exclusive  spirit  of  pastoral  govern- 
ment which  liad  prevailed.  The  wistlom  of  Dr  Bunting  Lad  Tor 
five  i^nd  twenty  yeai-s  led  the  way  in  giadnally  liberalizing  boththe 
polity  and  the  jiolicy  of  Methodism,  and  adapting  them  lo  the 
clianging  conditions  of  the  times.  But  this  wisdom  seems  to  have 
found  its  limits  before  1849,  when  the  internal  dissensions  reached 
their  climax.  In  that  year  James  Everett,  the  chief  author  of  the 
fly  sheets,  and  two  other  ministei-s,  Samuel  Dunn  and  William 
Griffith,  who  had  identified  themselves  with  him,  wero  expelled. 
A  disastrous  agitation  followed.  No  distinct  secession  took  place 
till  after  tho  Conference  of  1850.  Tlie  union  of  the  "Methodist 
Free  Churclies,"  in  which  was  incorporated  the  *' Wesleyan 
A.ssociation"  (of  1836),  was  formed  by  the  scceders.  The  "I^cw 
Connexion"  also  received  some  thousands  of  the  seceders  into  ite 
ranks.  But  by  far  the  greatest  part  of  those  who  left  went  with 
neitlier  of  theso  bodies. 

Between  1850  and  1855  tne  Connexion  in  Great  Britain  and 
Ireland  lost  100,000  members,  and  not  till  1856  did  it  begin  to 
rei'ovor.  In  that  year  the  numbers  were  returned  as  282,787, 
showing  a  small  increase  over  the  preceding  year.  Since  then  peace 
and  unity  have  prevailed  unbrokeu. 

The  convulsion  of  1849-52  taught  the  Connexion,  and  in  par- 
ticular the  Conference,  lessons  of  the  highest  importance.  In  1852 
the  quarterly  meeting  was  so  defined  as  to  make  it  the  gieaf  repre- 
sentative meeting  of  the  circuit,  includiug  stewards,  leaders,  local 
proachei-8,  and  trustees.  Tho  right  of  memorial  to  the  Conference 
was  given  to  it  in  the  widest  ond  fi-eest  sense.  These  powerful 
bodies  invite  ministers  to  the  circuits,  or  decline  so  tu  do,  deter- 
mine and  j)ay  their  "allowances,"  as  s-darirs  to  ministers  are  still 
called  in  the  Connexion,  and  review  all  the  interests  of  tho  circuits, 
spiritual  or  financial.  They  had  niso  conferred  ujion  them  in  1852 
tne  right  to  appoint  a  circuit  jury  of  appeal  from  the  verdict  and 
findings  of  a  U-atJeis'  meeting  in  certnin  cases  of  discipline.  Since 
1852  Conferenco  legislation  lias  still  proceeded  in  tho  direction  of 
recognizing  and  enlarging  tho  functions  and  rights  of  the  laity. 
Tho  committeo  of  review  system,  already  spoken  of,  had  been  con- 
siiieraldy  developed  between  1835  and  1849,  and  included  every 
department  of  ordinary  administration.  Iu  1861,  however,  whilat 
a  representation  of  tho  departmental  executive  committees  fonned 
still  the  leading  element  in  each  committeo  of  review,  a  great  im- 
provement was  made  in  their  constitution  by  giving  to  o»eh  of  the 
districts  of  British  Methodism  tho  right  to  send  a  lay  pepreeentativo 


>  This  "  Wnnciiitc"  sccraslon.  as  altlnt  It  wii»  comiiionlv  ciiIlelKl»^«  rto  to  • 
Ittw-uit  wlikh  led  to  tlio  JtuUclAl  rcrocnUloii  l.y  ilic  Ctuir;  of  Chsncrry  of  th© 
Conforcnco  Died  Poll  of  1781.  mid  llie  -  UrRP  Mlnulcs"  of  I7W.  a»  ilocumoota 
having  tho  foi-co  of  public  luvr  In  llio  uliululdtriLUon  of  Wesloyan  MotliudlJiii. 


M  E  T  H  0  D'l  S  M 


191 


lo  .ittend  tliese  preparatory  Conference  committees.  lu  1877  and 
1S7S  tlie  final  and  natural  coiismnniutiou  of  tlic  whole  cour^sc  of 
Rtlvaiice  since  1791  was  clVerted  in  tlio  constitntiou  of  the  uniti^d 
Conference  of  ininistertiand  hiy  rciuvbi-ntativi-s.  The  niini:>tfi-s  nicit 
l>y  tlicn«!clves  to  discharge  the  lunetions  which  Lclon;^  to  thuiii 
as  the  coniMioii  pastoiatu  of  the  Connexion.  As  to  all  tlie  ixiiuis 
involved  in  ihcir  spccilic  cliaracter  and  common  retiponsibility,  as 
the  niutnally  exchanging  and  itinerating  pahtor.t  in  foniniun  uf  a 
'vast  coninion  Hock,  they  lake  mutual  couii.-icI  in  a  srjiaiatu  asstinhly. 
ThoConfcivnce,  in  it^  miuistc-rial-and-lay  or  ruprcsjntative  si.>s<>ion, 
meets  it  Iter  the  pastoral  Liu:»incss  i^  cohiiileted,  and  occupies  a  lull 
week  bctwctn  Sundays  in  diacussing  and  st-ttling  the  busincbs  o! 
all  the  funds  and  the  gvufrul  adniiiiislrativc  d'jpartincnrij  of  the 
body.  The  CoiikMciice  in  its  pastoi-al  session  as^cniblcs  on  the  Iniit 
Tuesday  in  July,  tliat  ses-sinn  closing  on  the  l-'riday  or  Saturday 
week  following;  the  ruprcscntitive  session  occupies  the  lollowing 
week.  It  is  legally  necessary  that  the  decisions  of  the  Conference 
in  both  its  scssiuns  should  be  contiruicd  and  validutvd  by  the  vote 
oif  the  "Icg.d  hundred."  This  conlirmatiou  is,  however,  n'veu  om  a 
matter  of  couise. 

The  Coufcicnce  in  its  jiastoral  session  is  not  formally  rcpn-senta* 
five.  To  each  di:strict  is  assigned  by  the  lueecding  Cimlcrencc  a 
rertaiu  amuuut  of  rcprcscntudon,  tlieru  being  at  present  tliiitylivc 
districts.  Tlie  uunibcra  allocated  to  the  districts  vary  according  to 
circumstances.  The  total  number  of  ministers  and  laymen  com 
pofting  the  Conference  in  its  representative  session  is  48ii,  or  210 
ministers  and  240  laymen.  The  basis  of  the  lay  representation  in 
the  Conference  is  tlie  constituency  of  lay  olficials  in  the  district 
committees.  The  Connexion  at  large  is  rcpirsentcd  by  the  lay 
officials  of  *I.e  general  Connexional  di-partmcnts.  The  business 
tninsiict  .»  in  tlie  Conference  duiiiig  its  representative  session  re- 
lates to  all  the  Connexional  dc|iartnicnt3  of  general  adniinistralion, 
viz.,  the  committee  of  privilcgi  s,  foreign  ndssions,  the  mainlenance 
and  education  fund  (and  the  schools)  lor  ministers'  children,  chapel 
alfairs  (general,  metropolitan,  and  ]iroviucial},  the  Ironie  mi»it;n 
aud  contingent  fund,  district  sustentation  funds,  armv  and  navy 
evangelization,  lay  mission  work,  the  worn-out  niitiistcrs'  antl 
ministers*  widows'  fund,  the  theological  institution  with  its  four 
colleges,  Sunday  and  day  sclionis  and  the  cliildrcii's  home  and 
orphanage,  higher  education,  the  extension  fund  of  Mcth(.disni, 
alterations  and  divisions  of  circuits  and  districts,  and  the  Lord's 
Day  observance  and  teuijicranec  tpicstions. 

The  president  of  tlie  Conference  is  chosen  by  the  ministers  hy 
ballot  on  the  openiirg  of  the  pastoral  session.  After  the  rlectiou 
of  president  follows  that  of  secretary.  These  elections,  however, 
cannot  take  place  until  the  vucancies  in  the  h<in>lred  have  been 
filled  up.  Such  vacancies  arc  caused  by  death,  by  absence  lor  two 
ycai-s  together  without  a  dispensation,  by  expulsion,  or  by  super- 
annuation, which  Ukc9  place  ordinarily  after  two.years'  retirement 
from  the  full  work  of  the  niinistry. 

The  ]>rincipal  Matistics  of  the  denomination  at  the  last  Confcren^'c 
(1882)  were  as  follows  :— 


' 

Mcniljcr». 

On 

>linlstcn>. 

On 

TiUil. 

Ilollioil 
orSii[x;i-- 

Suiuloy 
SclioUi.. 

Qivat  lliittiin 

09-1,764 
•.M,471 

40,C.',1 

77C 

12.034 

1,649 
•iOO 
34? 

81 
IX 
193 

279 
IG 

82P,0CC 

foreiKH  n)l-«ion».> 

Of  tlie  Sunday  echolai-s  in  Great  Uritain,  177,965  wcro  over 
fifteen  yeara  of  age,  aud  93,127  were  meinbcis  of  society  or  ou 
tl-ial  OS  members. 

WesUynn  Afft/iodism  in  Ireland  has  always  been  part  and  parcel 
3f  British  MetlioJism,  but  since  1782  it  has  had  a  branch  Confer- 
ence of  its  own.  'I'ho  acts  jf  this  Conference  are,  in  accordance 
with  a  pi-ovision  in  the  Coufcrcnco  Deed  I'oU,  made  valid  by  tho 
-oucurrcnce  with  thcru  of  a  dch^-ate  from  tho  British  Conference, 
*ho  is  to  tlic  Irish  Conference  wliat  the  legal  Contcrcnce  is  to  the 
British  Conference.  Ten  ministera  of  the  Irish  Conference  are 
nioinbora  of  tho  "liRal  hundred"  of  the  British  Conference.  The 
'*plaii  of  pacilicatioM  "  of  1795  was  not  carried  out  at  the  time  by  the 
in»h  Conferenco.  In  the  year  1816,  however,  it  was  adoiitcd  in 
(rcland.  The  result  was  a  secession  which  assumed  the  designation 
" Primitive  Wcsleyans,"  a  very  dilfcrent  body  from  the  rrimilive 
Methodists  of  England.  In  1878  tho  Primitive  Wcsleyans  were 
reunited  to  the  parent  Conneiion.  The  number  of  niembci^  in 
.roland  has,  owing  to  emigration,  not  increased  of  late  years.  The 
ast  return  showed  24,475  members.  *    ' 

A^liatcd  Conferences. — For  more  than  twenty  years  there  were 
Several  "affiliated  Conferences"  of  British  Methodism.  IJut  there 
ire  now  only  two— the  French  Methodist  Conference,  and  that  of 
fiovth  Africa,— the  latter  constituted  quite  recently  (1882).  Since 
1852  French  Methodism  has  been  under  an  affiliated  Confcicnce. 
The  dimensions  of  the  French  Connexion,  however,  arc  very  small, 
anU  it^  dependent  to  a  considei:able  extent  ou  pecuniary  aid  fur- 
IXUefljr  In  Uie  West  lodles,  Africa,  India,  and  Cbiiuu 


nishcd  by  the  'Wesfcyan  Missionary  Society.  The  last  statistical 
return  showed  1769  membeiTj,  126  membeiTi  ou  trial,  27  ministers, 
1  minister  on  trial,  and  3  suiicmumcrary  or  retired  ministers.  Tho 
British  Conference  has  a  right  of  veto  as  to  certain  |ioints  of  legis- 
lation in  the  case  of  alliliated  Conferences. 

Atu>irulasiaii,  Mctkadixm  \\si%  iot  more  than  twenty  years  under 
an  aHiliated  Confci-ence,  dating  from  1854.  Since  1876,  however, 
the  Australasian  Ccnfeicnce  has  been  independent.  The  General 
Conference  meets  once  in  thieve  yeai^,  having  under  it  our  annual 
Conrcrenccs— one  for  Kew  Soi.th  Wales  and  yyccnsland,  another  for 
Victoria  .and  Tasmania,  a  tliird  for  Soutli  Au^>tralia,  and  a  fourth 
for  New  Zealand.  These  Conlcrciices— the  general  and  the  annual- 
are  all  mixed  and  represent.irivc  after  the  same  general  pattern  aa 
the  liritish  Conference.  The  have  also  under  their  charge,  and  as 
jiart  of  their  Connexion,  the  ".Ve»lejan  missions  in  Tonga'and  Fiji, 
wliich  were  begmi  by  tho  parent  bg.ly  before  the  original  affiliated 
yearly  Confcicnce  for  Australasia  was  or''anized.  The  unmbers  in 
1881  were  for  the  Jkthodisni  of  Australia  28,310  members  with 
ZGi  ministers,  and  for  the  SouUi  Sea  missions  33,411  members  with 
16  missionaries  of  Euroiican  Wood  and  a  very  large  number  of 
native  ministers  and  assistant   iiinistci^ 

Ciiiiniliitn  UelhoKlisiii  was  aho  alliliated  till  1873,  when  it  became 
an  imlepemlent  Connexion.  Ii  includes  six  |iroviiKial  annual  Con- 
ferences and  one  General  Conference  which  meets  every  three  years.' 
The  General  Conference  is  mijed  and  reiuesentative  ;  the  annual' 
Conferences  are  jiurcly  niinisteiial.  Canadian  Methodism  occupies 
a  |io«erlhl  position  in  tlio  Dominion.  It  numbers  as  nearly  as  can 
bi'  ascertained  about  116,000  nicmbers,,  and  is  strongest  in  Upper 
Canada.  It  possesses  a  university — the  Victoria  Uuiversity  in 
Upper  Canada. 

The  Doctrines  of  Methodism. — In  doctrine  all  branches 
of  Jlethodism  are  substantially  identical.  Wesley's 
doctrines  are  contained  in  lifty-three  sermons  known  as' 
the  "  four  volumes  "  and  in  his  Notes  on  the  Xew  Testament.^ 
The  Conference  has,  however,  iiublislied  two  catechisms,' 
one  for  younger  the  other  for  older  children,  of  which  a' 
new  and  carefully  revised  edition  has  lately  been  completed.^ 
In  general,  Wesleyan  theology  is  to  bo  described  as 
a  system  of  evangelical  Arminianism.  In  particular, 
Wesleyan  divines  insist  on  the  doctrines  of  original  sin, 
general  rcdeiliption,  repen,ance,  .justification  by  faith,  the 
witness  of  the  S[iirit,  and  Christian  perfection, — or,  as  it 
has  been  eiistomaiy  for  Mctliodists  to  say,  the  doctrines  of 
a  "  jirescnt,  free,  and  full  salvajtion."  liy  the  witness  of 
tlic  ypirit  is  meant  a  consciousness  of  the  Divine  favour 
through  tire  atonemient  of  Jesus  Christ.  Wesleyans  have 
often  been  represented  as  holding  the  Calvinistic  doctrine 
of  "assurance."  The  word,  however,  is  not  a  Wesleyau 
lihrase,  and  assurance,  so  far  as  it  may  be  said  to  be  taught 
by  Methodists,  signifies,  not  any  certainty  of  final  salvation, 
but  merely  a  "  sense  of  sin  forgiven."  ^ 

II.  American  Episcopal  Methodism,  v 

The  beginnings  of  American  Methodism  are  traceable  to 
the  year  17CG,  when  a  few  pious  emigrants  from  Ireland 
introduced  Methodism  into  New  York.  Ou  receivin"  an 
ajipeal  in  17G8  from  the  New  York  llethcJists,  who  were 
engaged  in  building  a  preaching-house,  Wesley  laid  the  case 
of  America  before  the  Conference  at  Leeds  in  1769,  and. 
two  preachers,  Boardman  and  Pilmoor,  volunteered  to  go 
to  the  colonies.  Boardman  went  to  New  York,  Pilmoor 
to  Philadeljihia.  In  1771  two  other  Methodist  itinerants,' 
Franv.i3  Asbury — the  most  famous  name  in  American 
Methodism — and  Richard  Wright,  went  out  to  America. 
In  1773  Thomas  Rankin,  a  preacher  of  e.xiiericnce  sent  out 


*  Besides  Wesley's  Sermons  and  Soles,  llis  Appeals  and  hi*  Irc.ntlse  on  Oiioinat 
'Stn,  in  reply  to  Dr  Taylor  of  Noi  wich,  should  t>c  ri-ud  in  on\cr  to  jiiipi  ed;ite  his 
thcolocical  vievs.  After  tiicse  may  be  partlfulaily  mitcd  Jnse|ili  Hi*iis<'n"s 
Commentary,  Watson's  Institutes  (3  voN.X  I)r  Pepc'a  Compendium  of  Ttietilu<j>f 
(3  vols.),  the  series  of  Fernleij  i«turrt  espiclally  that  by  llie  Rev.  H.  Gregory  ou 
"The  Holy  Catholic  Cliwcli,"  and  Dr  Itlcg's />wci)«rMi  and  Addresses. 

*  For  the  history  and  constltutlo'n  of  Weslcj-an  Merhodlym  tl-c  foIhiwinR  wotks 
may  be  consulted: — Wesley's  Woik".  especially  his  Jovmals;  Soutlicy's  Wesley; 
Tycrman's  Wesley,  RIrk's  Lictrlg  Weslfy,  auil  Clturchntansliip  of  Jolin  Wesley; 
Jackson's  Life  of  Charles  Wesley;  Minutes  of  Conference,  vol.  1.,  1744-98;  I).- 
Gcorce  Smith,  History  of  Wesleyan  itetliodism.Z  rola.;  Dr  Abel  SIcvi-iis,  J/ts/ory 
of  Urthodism.  3  vols.  ;  Pierce.  Polity  of  Methodism ;  Di-  Wllliums.  Constitution 
and  Polity  of  Wesleyan  Metltoditm :  Bi^,  CsnnexivntU  .Jkonomy;  and  the 
Minutes,  1877  (o  1881, 


192 


METHODISM 


by  Wesley,  held  tBe  first  Conference  in  Philadelphia,  when 
;here  were  10  itinerant  preachers  and  1160  members. 
\fter  the  breaking  out  of  the  War  of  Independence  the 
English  Methodist  preachers  were  unpopular,  and  all  but 
Franeis  Asbury  went  back  to  England.  At  the  end  of  the 
H-ar,  however,  in  1784,  Wesley  sent  out  Dr  Coke,  and 
American  Methodism  was  organized  as  an  independent 
church,  with  Dr  Coke  and  Francis  Asbury  as  its  presbyter- 
bishops.  The  history  of  American  Methodism  since  that 
period  is  too  vast  and  complicated  for  any  attempt  to  be 
made  to  summarize  it  here.  Methodism  is  more  properly 
national  in  its  character  as  an  American  church  than  any 
church  in  the  States.  In  Massachusetts  and  some  other 
of  the  New  England  States  it  is  less  powerful  than  Con- 
gregationalism, which  still  retains  there  much  of  its  ancient 
predominance  ;  in  the  city  of  New  York  it  is  less  powerful 
than  Presbyterianism,  and,  indeed,  occupies  a  position  less 
generally  influential  than  might  have  been  expected.  But 
m  Philadelphia  it  is  very  powerful ;  so  also  in  Baltimore 
and  in  Cincinnati ;  if  not  strong  in  New  York  city,  it  is 
very  strong  in  the  State  ;  and  generally  throughout  the 
western  and  mid-western  States  it  is  the  prevalent  form 
of  faith-  and  worship.  In  the  south,  also,  it  is  more 
powerful  than  any  other  church. 

Ameiican  SIcthodism  is  Episcopal.  But  its  Episcopacy  is  neither 
prelatical  nor  diocesan.  Tlie  bisliops  are  superintending  presbyters, 
and  they  visit  the  whole  territory  of  Slethodism  in  rotation,  hold- 
ing (presiding  over)  the  annual  Conferences.  These  Conferences  are 
purely  ministerial.  But  the  Ueiieral  Conference,  which  meets  once 
in  four  years,  and  which  is  the  Conference  of  legislation  and  hnal 
appeal,  is  mixed  and  representative.  The  first  General  Conference 
was  held  in  1792,  the  first  delegated  or  representative  Conference 
in  1812,  the  first  mixed  or  niinisterial-and-lay  General  Conference 
in  1872.  There  were  till  lately  no  district  assemblies  in  the 
Episcopal  Methodism  of  America,  and  nbw  there  are  but  few.  The 
bisliops  maintain  the  unity  of  the  Connexion  in  the  interval  between 
ihe  General  Conferences,  by  their  visitation  and  by  their  conjoint 
council.  A  sub-episcopal  class  of  ministers  also,  called  presiding 
elders,  supplcmeht  the  action  and  superiiiteudency  of  the  bishops. 
These  preside  over  districts,  holding  all  the  circuit  quarterly  meet- 
ings, and  holding  the  district  meetings,  if  any  such  meetings  have 
been  organized, 

American  Episcopal  Methodism  is  distributed  into  five  distinct 
sections  or  chuichcs,  which,  however,  differ  from  each  other  in  no 
points  of  any  importance  as  rcsjieets  organization  or  discipline,  still 
less  doctrine.  The  American  ilethodist  Episcopal  Church  South 
became  a  separate  organization  in  1847  by  reason  of  the  slavery 
controversy.  Tlie  coloured  churches,  of  which  there  are  three, 
sprang  U[i  distinctly  from  local  causes.  The  following  are  the  latest 
available  statistics: — 


Itinerant 
Mhilstcis 

Loral      1       Ly      1 
I'reaclicrs.  Members. 

Mil     r  t  F   i  pon  1  Church 

12.Hi 
4,001 
:.8.1i 
1,650 
(l.'iS 

12,3i3 
S,S68 
0.7C0 
3,7o0 
C83 

l.TH.-W? 
837.K3I 
391 ,044 
300,000 
112,000 

Mctliodisl  Episcopal  71i>li  Church 

Coloured  Mclliodkt  Episcopul  Churcli 

20.2Cli 

3-',3»4 

3.3-W,H2 

In  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church  alone  there  are  one  hundred 
annual  Conferences,  visited  by  twelve  bishops.  This  church  lias 
Iiioro  than  twenty  universities,  of  which  some  arc  distinguished 
schools  of  learning.  Hostoii  University  is  one  of  the  most  recent  and 
one  of  the  chief.  The  principal  foreign  missions  are  in  India,  China, 
and  Japan.  The  Methodist  Cliurih  South  also  has  some  infltiential 
universities,  particularly  that  at  Nashville,  and  has  missions,  in 
particular  in  Japan  and  China. 

1  Besides  these  Mcthoilist  Eiiiseopal  churches,  with  their  total  of 
3,3,'')8,000  church  memhera,  there  are  two  other  churches  which  do 
not  a.s3umo  the  name  at  all,  but  are  yet  essentially  Methoilist  in 
doctrine  and  disciidinc,  not  varying  in  any  important  particulars 
from  the  Episcopal  Methodism  of  America.  Of  these  one  is  called 
tho  United  Brethren,  with  l.''i7,000  members,  the  other  the  Evan- 
gelical Association,  with  113,000  members,' 

Non-Episcojml  American  MctkorUsm.—lho  bodies  included  under 
this  lieail  are  cliielly  secessions  from  tho  original  stock  of  American 
Methodism,  founded  on  principles  ofdeniocratic  church  government, 
analo^-ous  to  those  of  tho  English  Methodist  secessions.    The  only 


)  Atncrlciin  Methodism  Is  Hr  Abel  SIcvcns'n  MiKory. 
I  Klvcn  In  tho  UWMilitl.Yar  Doat,  Mow  Vork,  1SS2. 


considerable  body,  however,  is  the  Methodist  Protestant  Cburcb> 
with  12.'>,000  members.  The  minor  bodies,  four  in  number,  count 
altogether  less  than  60,000  members,  the  principal  being  tha 
American  Wesleyan  Cliurch,  with  25,000  members. 

III.  Other  Methodist  Bodies  in  Britain. 

The  bodies  still  to  be  noticed,  while  differing  as  tb 
points  of  church  government,  agree  as  to  doctrine  and 
in  general  as  to  the  means  of  grace  and  as  to  inner  spiritual 
fellowship  with  the  parent  "  Connexion."  They  all 
maintain  class-meetings  and  love-feasts,  have  leaders' 
meetings  and  quarterly  meetings,  and  largely  employ  local 
preachers. 

The  Mclhodiit  New  Connexion  was  founded  in  1797-98  by 
Alexander  Kilham,  who  died  in  1798.  Its  general  principles  are 
inilicated  above.  Its  'statistics  for  1881  were  as  toUows:— 183 
inini.iters  and  27,770  members  (including  those  on  mission  stations, 
besides  3882  on  trial),  and  74,744  Sunday  scholars.^ 

United  Methodist  Free  Churches.  — This  organization  in  its  original 
form  must  be  identified  with  the  Wesleyan  Methodist  Association 
of  1336.  That  body  first  absorbed  into  itself,  in  great  part,  the 
"  IVotestant  iMethodists"  of  1828.  It  was  afterwards  greatly  in- 
creased, and  its  organization  in  some  points  modified,  when  a  large 
number  of  the  scceders  flora  the  parent  Connexion  in  1850-52  joined 
its  ranks.  The  main  body  of  its  Conference  does  not  consist,  like  that 
of  the  New  Connexion,  of  an  equal  number  of  circuit  ministers  and 
cLci-tcd  circuit  lay  delegates,  but  of  circuit  delegates,  whether 
ministerial  or  lay,  elected  without  any  respect  to  oltice,  ministerial 
or  other.  Its  circuits  also  are  independent  of  tlie  control  of  the 
Conference.  The  Connexional  bond,  acconlingly,  in  this  denomina- 
tion is  weak,  and  the  itinci'ancy  is  not  uuiversal  or  uniform  in  its 
rules  or  its  oi>eration.  The  amalgamation  between  the  Wesleyan 
filcthodist  Association  and  tlio  "  Wesleyan  Jlethodist  Reformeis" 
of  1850  took  place  in  1857.  At  that  time  the  combined  clmrches 
numbered  41,000.  At  present  (1881-82)  they  number  72,839,  in- 
cluding 7772  members  ou  the  mission  stations,  besides  7824  on  trial. 
The  number  of  ministers  is  392,  with  40  retired  or  '*  supernumerary" 
ministers.     The  number  of  Sunday  scholars  is  190,957.' 

Primitive  Mcthodibvi. — In  this  earnest  and  hard-working  denomi- 
nation the  ministers,  of  whom  some  arc  woineii,  are  very  literally 
"  tlie  servants  of  all."  The  Conleience  is  composed,  in  addition  to 
twelve  permanent  members,  of  four  members  appointed  by^thc  pre- 
ceding Conference,  and  of  delegates  from  district  meetings.  The 
jii-inciple  of  in-ojiortion  is  that  there  should  be  two  laymen  to  one 
minister  or  '*  travelling  preacher,"  and  the  *' travelling  preachers" 
have  no  pastoral  prerogative  whatever.  The  Conference  is  supreme^ 
and  the  Connexional  bond  is  strong.  Tliis  body  was  founded  by 
Hugh  Bourne  and  William  Clowes,  local  preachers  who  were 
separated  from  the  Wesleyan  Connexion,  the  former  in  1808,  the 
latter  in  1810,  because  oftheir  violation  of  Coiiferenco  regulations 
as  to  camp  meetings  and  other  questions  of  order.  The  Conference 
hail,  in  1807,  luonounced  its  judgment  against  cainp  meetings, 
which  had  lieeu  introduced  into  the  country  fiom  America,  whcr<a3 
Bourne  and  Clowes  were  determined  to  hold  such .  meetings. 
Founiled  thus  by  zealous  and  "  irregular  "  lay  preachers,  "  Primi- 
tive" Mi-tliodisin,  as  the  resulting  new  body  called  itself,  bearsstill 
in  its  organization,  its  spirit,  and  its  customs  strong  traces  of  its 
origin.  It  has  been  a  very  successful  body,  aiming  simply  at  doing 
evangelistic  work,  and  is  now  numerous  and  powerful,  iiuiubcriiig 
among  its  ministei-s,  not  only  many  useful  pi-eacliei-s,  but  some  of 
marked  originality  and  iiowor  and  also  of  superior  cultivation. 
Tlieio  li.TS  for  many  years  jast,  if  not  from  the  beginning,  been  a 
very  friendly  feeling  between  tiic  old  W  cslcyau  Conncvion  ami  the 
Primitive  Methodists.  Its  latest  statistics  (18S1-2)  show  1H9 
travelling  preachers,  185,312  members,  and  383,350  Suii.lay 
scholars.* 

Bible  Chridinns.—'T\\e  Primitive  Methodists  snrang  «p  in  tho 
midland  counties,  the  Biblo  Christians  in  Cornwall.  These  closclj 
rcsembic  the  "  Primitives  "  in  their  character  and  spirit.  Their 
founder  was  a  Cornish  local  preacher  called  O'Bryan.  Hence  tho 
Connexion  is  often  known  as  the  Bryanites,  and  Cornish  emigrants 
have  proiiagated  this  deiioniinalion  widely  in  the  colonics,  Tho 
Confciciico  is  composed  of  ten  superintendents  of  districto,  tlio 
president  anil  secretary  of  the  preceding  Conference,  lay  delegates, 
one  from  each  district  meeting,  and  as  many  of  tho  travelling 
preachers  as  arc  allowed  ly  their  respective  district  n>cctin"s  to 
attend.  In  general  it  may  iie  said  that  the  ministerial  and  lay 
memhcrs  of  the  Conference  aie  about  equal  in  number.  Tlio  returns 
for  1881-82  showed  in  England  (chielly  the  west  ami  south  of  Eng- 


'  Soc  Jmbltf  Volumt  c/  Iht  Stic  Comriian:  nlso  tho  0.-»»™(  ff«(#j  ud  tho 
ir.ntilnofCmr'rtnn.  ISSI.  P"bll^h>•J  «l  II*  Nc-.  Coi>ncxl"n  Uooknooiti 
3  S-c  A'o««./..(.oi.   /v-J  1./  II''  VniM  ilclhoaiil  Fif  Cturrhn;  aiso  Uivkia 

«  Seo  Jnim  roue.  «i</."»  «/  '*•  I'rujnlln  U,ll,oJill  CMmuicn  :  tlto  Udiula 
0/  Con/tract,  1»SI,  6  smtun  Sirocl,  London,  E. 


METHODISM 


land)  and  in  the  Channel  Islands  186  itinerant  preachers,  21,209 
members  (besides  690  on  trial),  and  36,335  Sunday  scholars.  In 
Canada  the  number  of  members  was  6052,  and  in  Australia  and 
New  Zealand  3671.  > 

The  IFcskyan  Reform  Union  is  an  aggregate  of  local  Methodist 
secession  churches,  loosely  held  together  by  a  Conference,  arid  is 
one  of  the  results  of  the  great  Methodist  disruption  of  1851-52. 
The  returns  for  1831-82  showed  18  ministers  and  7728  members. 

(Ecu^ncniml  Mclhodinl  Conference. — This  Conference  was  held  in 
CSty  Road  Chapel,  London,  in  September  1831.  Representatives 
were  present  from  all  the  Methodist  bodies  throughout  the  world, 
and  it  was  estimated  that  these  represented  not  less  than  5,000,000 
of  members  and  20,000,000  of  population.  Whilst  in  chiuch 
organiiation  these  bodies  differed,  as  has  been  shown  above,  in 
doctrine  and  in  respect  of  their  purely  spiritual  discipline  and 
means  of  grace,  they  were  all  agreed  in  principal  matteiB.  Tlio 
Conference  was  entirely  practical  in  character.  The  object  was  to 
promote  zeal  and  union  among  the  constituent  bodies  as  to  all 
practical  points  of  Christian  sympathy  and  activity,  at  home  and 
abroad,  and  especially  as  to  home  mission  worlt,  general  philan- 
thropy. Christian  education,  and  a  Christian  use  of  the  press.  There 
were  400  representatives  present  from  the  Methodist  bodies  in  all 
parts  of  the  world.^ 

Welsh  Calvinistic  Melhodiscs.—Betv/em  the  Methodism  of  Wales 
and  that  of  England  there  was  never  any  other  than  incidental 
connexion.  Indeed,  although  the  name  of  the  Welsh  movement 
was  borrowed  from  the  English,  not  only  was  Welsh  Methodism 
quite  independent  in  its  origin,  bnt  in  reality  its  beginning,  as  an 
evangelical  movement,  was  earlier  than  that  of  English  Methodism. 
From  Wesleyan  Methodism,  fmthermore,  Welsh  Methodism  was 
throughout  distinguished  by  the  fact  that  it  was  Calvinistic  in  its 
doctrine.  For  some  years  Whitefield's  came  was  placed  by  the 
leaders  of  Welsh  Methodism  at  the  head  of  their  movement,  but 
tho  connexion  was  not  at  any  time  much  more  than  nominal, 
Wiitefield  being,  indeed,  too  often  and  too  long  together  in 
America  to  exercise  any  real  presidency  over  the  Methodism  of  the 
Principality. 

Distinction,  however,  must  be  made  between  Welsh  Methodism 
as  an  evangelistic  movement  and  as  an  organization.  In  its  later 
aad  distinctly  organized  form,  its  main  elements  date  from  1811, 
while  the  actual  unity  and  the  final  consolidation  of  the  organization 
date  from  so  recent  a  period  as  1864.  At  that  date  we  find  the 
Calvinistic  Methodism  of  North  and  of  South  Wales  for  the  first 
time  united  in  a  common  organization  and  government,  and  brought 
under  the  supreme  control  of  one  "General  Assembly." 

The  spiritual  awakening  from  which  Welsh  Calvinistic  Method- 
ism derived  its  earliest  inspiration  and  impulse  began  in  1735  and 
1736,  almost  contemporaneously  and  quite  iudependently,  in  three 
different  counties  of  South  Wales.  Howell  Harris,  a  gentleman  of 
some  position,  born  and  bred  at  Trevecca  in  the  parish  of  Talgarth, 
couuty  of  Brecon,  is  the  most  prominent  name  connected  with  early 
Welsh  Methodism.  His  first  strong  religious  convictions  and  im- 
pulses date  from  1 735.  He  was  sent  to  Oxford  in  the  autumn  of  that 
year  to  "  cmo  him  of  his  fanaticism,"  but  remained  only  one  term. 
On  his  return  to  Wales  he  began  to  exhort  and  preach  in  private 
hou.ses  and  in  such  buildings  as  he  could  obtain  the  use  of,  being  then 
and  throughout  his  life  a  simple  layman.  Of  learning  or  theology 
he  had  but  little;  but  he  was  an  extemporary  preacher  of  prodigious 
vehemence,  and  often  of  overwhelming  power  and  pathos.  While 
Harris  was  thus  jjreaching  in  the  couuty  of  Brecon,  Daniel  Row- 
lands had  been  spiritually  awakened  at  Llangeitho  in  Cardiganshire, 
the  two  men  knowing  nothing  whatever  of  each  other.  Rowlands 
was  an  ordained  clergyman,  of  some  learning  and  of  great 
Oioquenco.  He  was  a  pulpit  orator,  and  carefully  prepared  his 
powerful  discourses.  In  Pembrokeshire,  again,  in  that  same  year 
1735-36,  Howell  Davies  began  to  preach  the  same  doctrine  in  the 
same  spirit  as  the  other  two  preachers,  and  with  effects  scarcely,  if 
at  all,  less  remarkable.  The  work  thus  begun  in  three  distinct 
centres  within  the  space  of  one  year  was  in  strict  connexion  mth 
the  Established  Church,  and  so  continued  to  be  throughout  the 
l^^t^sitary.  These  single-mmded  preachers  pursued  their  work 
in  Wales  knowing  nothing  of  the  parallel  work  which  Whitefield 
had  just  begun  in  England.  In  1738,  however,  Whitefield,  in 
the  west  of  England,  heard  of  Howell  Harris,  and  in  that  year 
the  two  revivalists  met  in  Cardiff.  In  1739  Howell  Harris  had 
bemn  to  extend  his  preaching  tours  far  and  wide,  visiting  not 
only  South  but  North  Wales,  and,  wherever  he  went,  foundin" 
religious  societies  in  connexion  with  the  Church  of  England,  of  a 
character  resembling  those  called  Dr  Woodward's  societies,  which 
had  long  been  m  existence  throughout  England,  the  chief  difference 
being  that  the  Welsh  societies  were  "evangelical,"  Calvinistic, 
and  revivalist.  It  was  in  the  same  year  that  Wesley  founded 
his  society  in  England.     In  1742  the  clergymen  connected  with 


193 


KmIJ  CU™rS^'"  °^  '*""  "'"^'^  (Scummical  Con/ermce,  Weslcyaa  Book- 


the  -nclsh  movement  were  ten  in  number,  and  there  were  labour- 
ing  in  concert  with  these  forty  lay  "eshoiters,"  as  they  wero 
called.  In  that  year  the  hrst  ••.association"  of  Welsh  CalWnistio 
wl-    «^f'  ""'  '''''*,■'"  Watorford  or  Watford,  iu  Glamorgnnshire; 

that  of  the  AVelsh  evangelists.  The  first  Calvinistic  Methodist 
Conference  was  bed  at  \  Vaterrovd,  under  Whitelield's  presidency, 
on  January  5  1743  eighteen  months  earlier  than  AVesley's  firat 
Conference.  For  a  short  time  the  Calvinistic  Melhodisn.  of  Wales 
was  linked  to  that  of  England.  Alter  174S,  however,  Whitefield 
ceased  to  act  as  ,n  any  sense  the  oQicial  head  of  the  Calviuistio 
Methodists  of  Eng  and,  and  then-  orgauizatiou,  always  loose,  was 
gradually  dissolved. 

There  was  no  Wesley  in  Welsh  Methodism,  and  aciordin''ly  there 
was  no  organic  unity  among  the  societies  of  earlier  Welsh  Tllethod- 
ism.  Each  local  society  was  under  the  care  of  an  •'cxhortcr  "  au 
unpaid  layman.  A  number  of  these  local  societies  were  "rouued 
together  into  a  district,  over  which  an  "overseer"  had  chan-e  He 
also  was  usually  an  unpaid  layman,  although  excreisiu"  many  of 
the  functions  of  a  spiritual  pastor.  Sometimes,  howcvc  "  a';  in  the 
case  of  Rowla.ids,  he  was  a  parish  clergyyian.  The  societies 
attended  their  parish  cluirchcs  and  there  received  the  sacraments. 
The  meeting-  or  preacliing-houscs  for  the  societies  were  vaguely 
called  •'houses  for  religious  purposes." 

In  1751  Howell  Harris  ceased  to  iriuerate  and  retired  to  Trevecca.'- 
From  this  time  his  leadership  in  the  Methodist  movement  seems  to' 
have  come  to  an  end,  and  the  movement  languished  for  many  years 
after.  Not  till  1762  is  any  "  revival "  chronicled.  In  1703  Row- 
kndswas  obliged  to  quit  his  cuiacy  at  Llangeitho  ami  leave  tha 
I  Established  Church.  His  people  built  him  a  chapel.  Ho  thas,  after 
1763,  became  a  Dissenting  mmister  ;  and,  retaining  his  fame  and 
much  of  his  power  to  the  end  of  his  comse,  he  died  in  1790. 

Fifty  years  had  now  passed  since  the  firet  societies  of  Welsh 
Methodism  had  been  established  by  Howell  Harris,  ami  the  move- 
ment, instead  of  having  grown  to  strength  au<l  maturity,  ajipcared 
to  have  spent  its  force,  almost  iu  all  directions,  at  least  so  far  as 
any  outward  signs  could  show.  But  the  Rev.  Thomas  diaries 
of  Bala  was  to  be  one  of  the  chief  means  of  reviving  it.  He,  hke 
the  earKer  Methodists,  was  a  chnrchuiau;  he  had  taken  his  d'crce 
at  Oxford  and  served  a  curacy  in  Soinei-setshire.  The  doors  ol°tlio 
Established  Chmch  having  been  closed  against  him  because  of  his 
style  of  preaching,  he  joined  the  Welsh  Jlethodists  in  1786,  and 
his  first  sphere  of  marked  influence  was  in  North  Wales.  In  1791 
he  took  a  leading  part  in  a  great  revival  of  which  Bala  was  the 
centre.  From  this  period  may  be  dated  the  second  spriug  of  Welsh 
Calvinistic  Methodism,  from  which  its  later  successes  were  to  gi-ow. 
Charles  zealously  and  successfully  promoted  the  establishment  of 
"circulating  schools"  and  of  Sabbath  schools.  Ho  was,  iu  fact, 
the  soul  of  the  great  Christian  educating  movement  in  Wales  which 
began  in  the  last  decade  of  the  IStli  century;  and  it  was  through 
his  earnest  zeal  iu  seeking  to  provide  Bibles  for  his  Welsh  schools, 
especially  the  Sunday  schools,  that  the  British  and  Foreign  Bible 
Society  was  established.  Though  Methodism  came  then  to  be 
elfectuaUy  rooted  in  the  soil  of  the  Principality,  it  was  not  till 
1811  that  the  Welsh  Calvinists  took  that  step  in  the  direction  of 
ecclesiastical  independence  which  the  English  Wesleyaus  had  taken 
sixteen  years  before  by  calling  their  preachers  to  the  oHicial  position 
of  pastors  and  ordaining  them  to  administer  the  sacraments. 

From  1790  till  almost  the  present  tmic  the  work  of  gradually 
moulding  the  constitution  of^  Welsh  Calviuistio  Methodism  has 
proceeded.  The  "rules  regarding  the  proper  mode  of  conducting 
the  quarterly  association  "  were  drawn  up  by  Charles  and  a''rccd 
upon  in  1790.  In  1801  the  Order  and  Form  of  Church  Govcrnvient 
and  Rules  of  Discipline  wero  published.  In  1811,  as  has  been 
shown,  ministerial  ordination  was  initiated.  In  1823  the  Con- 
fession of  Faith  was  promulgated.  And  iu  1864,  as  has  been 
already  mentioned,  the  first  "General  Assembly  "was  held,  and 
the  two  associations  of  North  and  South  Wales  respectively  were 
united  into  one  body.  The  constitution  is  now  a  modifieil  Prcs- 
byterianism,  each  church  managing  its  own  affairs  subject  to 
successive  appeal  to  the  monthly  meeting  of  the  county  and  the 
quarterly  association  of  the  province,  while  the  latter  body  may 
refer  the  decision  to  the  annual  General  Assembly. 

The  Welsh  Methodists  (or  Welsh  Presbyterians,  as  they  are 
now  often  called)  have  two  theological  colleges,  one  at  Bala  and 
the  other  at  Trevecca.  They  have  also  a  foreign  missionary  society, 
with  missions  in  Brittany,  among  their  congeners  of  the  Celtic 
race,  and  in  Bengal. 

In  recent  years  this  church  has  made  great  progress.  In  1850  the 
number  of  members  was  58,678,  in  1870  it  was  92,735,  and  in  1880 
the  returns  showed  1174  churches,  118,979  communicants,  185,635 
Sunday  scholars.  The  number  of  ministers  is  not  ofiicially  given, 
but  is  estimated  at  600.  The  North  and  South  Wales  associations 
are  now  also  known  as  synods.^  (J.  H.  RI.) 


•■'  See  W.  Williams,  WtUh  Calrtni. 

and  Timei  o/  Hoteetl  Harris  ;  Tycl 

Diary  of  the  Calviitlnic  Melluxlisls,  I882! 


XVI.  —  25- 


194 


M  E  T  — M  E  T 


METHODIUS,  the  apostle  of  the  Slavs,  was  a  native 
of  Thessalonica,  and  was  born  about  the  year  825.  His 
nationality  is  unknown,  but  most  probably  he  was  a 
GrscLsed  Slav;  the  family  of  which  he  was  a  member 
appears  to  have  been  one  of  considerable  social  distinction, 
and  ho  himself  had  already  attained  high  ofEcial  rank  in 
tie  government  of  Macedonia  before  he  determined  to 
abandon  his  secular  career  and  embrace  the  monastic  life. 
His  younger  brother  Constantino  (better  known  as  Cyril, 
the  name  he  adopted  at  Rome  shortly  before  his  death) 
had  also  distinguished  himself  as  a  secular  "  philosopher  " 
in  Constantinople  before  he  withdrew  to  the  cloister  and 
to  solitude.  Constantino  about  860  had  been  sent  by  the 
emperor  Michael  III.  to  the  Khazars,  in  response  to  their 
request  for  a  Christian  teacher,  but  had  not  remained  long 
among  them ;  after  his  return  to  within  the  limits  of  the 
empire,  his  brother  and  he  laboured  for  the  instruction  of 
the  Slavonic  or  Slavonici^ed  population,  especially  by 
means  of  translations  of  the  Scripture  lessons  and  the 
liturgical  books  used  in  Christian  worship.  About  the 
year  863,  at  the  invitation  of  Rastislav,  king  of  "  Great 
Moravia,"  who  desired  the  Christianization  of  his  subjects, 
but  at  the  same  time  that  they  should  be  independent  of 
the  Germans,  the  two  brothers  went  to  hia  capital  (its  site 
is  unknown),  and,  besides  establishing  a  seminary  for  the 
education  of  priests,  successfully  occupied  themselves  in 
preaching  in  the  vernacular  and  in  diffusing  their  reUgious 
literature.  After  four  years  they  seem  to  have  received 
and  accepted  an  invitation  to  Rome  from  Pope  Nicholas 
L,  who  had  just  been  eng3,ged  in. his  stUl  extant  corre- 
spondence with  the  newly  converted  Bulgarian  king ;  his 
death  occurred  before  their  arrival,  but  they  were  kindly 
received  by  his  successor  Hadrian  11.  Constantiae  died 
in  Rome,  but  Methodius,  after  satisfying  the  pope  of  his 
orthodoxy  and  obedience,  went  back  to  his  labours  in 
"Moravia"  as  archbishop  of  Parmonia.  His  province 
appears  to  have  been,  roughly  speaking,  co-extensive  with 
the  basins  of  the  Raab,  Drave,  and  Save,  and  thus  to  have 
included  parts  of  what  had  previously  belonged  to  the  pro- 
vinces of  Salzburg  and  Passau.  In  87 1  complaints  on  this 
accoimt  were  made  at  Rome,  nominally  on  behalf  of  the 
archbishop  of  Sabburg,  but  really  in  the  interests  of 
the  German  king  and  his  Germanizing  ally  Swatopluk, 
Eastislav's  successor;  they  were  not,  however,  immediately 
successful.  In  879,  however,  Methodius  was  again  sum- 
moned to  Rome  by  Pope  John  VIII.,  after  having  declined 
to  give  up  the  practice  of  celebrating  mass  in  tho  Slavonic 
tongue  ;  but,  owing  to  the  pecidiar  delicacy  of  the  relations 
of  Rome  with  Constantinople,  and  with  the  young  church 
of  Bulgaria,  the  pope,  contrary  to  aU  expectation,  ulti- 
mately decided  in  favour  of  a  Slavonic  hturgy,  and  sent 
Methodius  (880)  back  to  his  diocese  with  a  suffragan 
bishop,  and  with  a  letter  of  recommendation  to  Swatopluk. 
This  suffragan,  a  German  named  Wiching,  unfortunately 
proved  quite  the  reverse  of  helpful  to  his  metropolitan, 
and  through  llis  agency,  especially  after  the  death  of  John 
VUI.  in  882,  the  closing  years  of  the  life  of  Methodius 
were  embittered  by  continual  ecclesiastical  disputes,  in  the 
course  of  which  ho  is  said  to  have  laid  Swatopluk  and  his 
supporters  under  tho  ban,  and  the  reahn  under  interdict. 
The  date  of  the  death  of  Methodius  is  variouiily  given ; 
the  most  trustworthy  tradition  says  that  it  took  pLace  on 
April  6,  885.  He  was  buried  at  Wclehrad  (probably 
Stuhlweissenberg).  The  Greek  Church  commemorates  St 
Cyril  on  February  1 4  and  St  Methodius  on  May  11  ;  in 
the  Roman  Church  both  are  commemorated  on  March  9. 

Seo  Schafarik's  Staioisckc  AlUrthumcy^  whcro  tho  original 
authorities  are  fully  referred  to.  Tho  subject  of  the  present  notice 
is  most  probably  not  to  bo  identified  "with  tho  Methodius,  a  painter 
and  monk,  who,  according  to  a  well-known  legend,  converted  Boris 
'Of  Bulgaria  by  means  of  a  picture  of  Clirisf  a  second  coming. 


METHYL,  a  chemical  term  which  until  lately  was  used 
in  two  radically  different  senses,  namely,  as  designating 
either  the  atom-group  CHj,  which  in  numberless  chemica! 
formulae  figures  as  a  "  radical "  (compare  Chemistey,  vol. 
V.  p.  552),  or  a  gaseous  substance  of  the  same  composition, 
which,  however,  nowadays  is  generally  called  "  dimethyl,' 
to  distinguish  it  from  the  radical  A  gas  of  the  composi- 
tion and  the  specific  gravity  (CoH^  -^  Hj  =  1 5)  corresponding 
to  C.,H(j  can  be  produced  in  two  principal  ways,— first, 
by  the  decomposition  of  zinc-ethyl  by  water  (Frankland) — 

ZnCC2Hj)3-h20H  .  H  =  Zn(OH)j -I- CjHjH  ; 
and,  secondly,    by   the   electrolysis  of   acetate  of  potash 
solution  (Koibe),  we  have  virtually 

2CH3 .  COOH  =  (CHaX,  +  2CO2 1  •)-  H, . 
-fpole.    I  —pole. 

These  two  gases  used  to  be  distinguished  as  two  different 
substances, — Frankland's  being  looked  upon  as  hydride  of 
ethyl,  C2H5  .  E,  Kolbo's  as  "  real  methyl "  (CH3)(CH3)| 
imtU  Schorlemmer  proved  their  identity  by  showing  that 
both,  when  treated  with  chlorine,  yield  the  same  identical 
chloride  of  elhyl,  C2H5 .  CL  This  confirmed  the  now 
generally  a<io])ted  notion  that  the  radical  ethyl  itself  is 
nothing  but  methylo-methyl,  H3C — CH.,*,  so  that  the 
filling  up  of  the  gap*  by  an  H  must  necessarily  produce 
"  hydride  of  ethyl "  and  "  dimethyl "  va  one.  The  "  true 
methyl "  which  ■;hemists  used  to  dream  of,  and  which,  when 
treated  with  chlorine,  would  yield  two  CHjCl's  analogous 
to  HH  -t-  ClCl  =  HCl  +  HCl,  does  not,  and  according  to  our 
present  knowledge  cannot,  exist.  A  quasi  apology  for  it  is 
"marsh  gas,"  (^H^,  tho  principal  component  of  the  gas 
mixture  which  1  lubbles  up  from  any  marshy  pond  when  its 
mud  is  stirred  up  with  a  stick.  It  is  always  produced 
when  vegetable  matter  decays  in  the  presence  of  water, 
and  in  the  relative  or  absolute  absence  of  air.  What 
everybody  known  as  "  fire-damp  "  is  nothing  but  a  (neces- 
sarily explosive)  mixture  of  air  with  impure  marsh  gas, 
produced  in  the  constantly  ;)rogressiug  metamorphosis  of 
the  coal  deposit?  ;  in  certain  districts  streams  of  marsh  gas 
are  issuing  forth  from  cracks  in  the  earth  ;  the  "  holy  fire  " 
of  Baku  is  sucii  a  marsh-gas  spring,  which,  having  once 
caught  fire  by  accident,  continues  burning  to  this  day. 
Perfectly  pure  marsh  gas  can  only  be  obtained  from  ziac- 
inethyl,  Zn(CH<)2,  by  its  decomposition  with  water  (vide 
supra) ;  a  nearly  pure  preparation  is  procurable  by  heating 
a  mixture  of  acetate  of  potash  or  soda  and  caustic  alkali  to 
dull  redness : — 


Marsh  gas  can  be  prepared  synthetically  by  the  action 
of  bisulphide  of  carbon  vapour  and  sulphuretted  hydrogen 
(both  producible  from  their  elements)  on  red-hot  copper, 
CS,  -f  2H2S  -1-  8Cu  =  4CuoS  -I-  CHj  (Bcrthelot).  A  mixture 
of  marsh  gas  and  chlorine,  when  exposed  to  direct  sunlight, 
explodes  with  formation  of  hydrochloric  acid  and  char- 
coal In  diffuse  dayhght  only  part  of  the  hydrogen  is 
eliminated  and  "  replaced "  by  its  equivalent  in  chlorine, 
which  in  general  leads  to  the  formation  of  four  bodies : 
CH3Cl  =  CH,-)-Cl.,-HCl,  chloride  of  methyl ;  CH^Clj, 
chloride  of  methylene ;  CHCI3,  chloroform  ;  CCl,,  tetra- 
chloride of  carbon.  Of  these  several  chloromethanes,  aa 
they  are  called!,  tho  first  here  interests  us  more  than  any 
of  the  rest,  because  from  it  any  other  methyl  compound 
can  be  produced  by  the  substitution  of  the  proper  kind  of 
radical  for  the  CI  of  tho  CH^CL  Thus,  for  instance,  we 
can  convert  it  into  methyl-alcohol  by  treating  the  chloride 
with  aqueous  caustic  potash  at  100°  C.  (Bcrthelot).  This 
is  a  most  important  synthesis,  because  it  is  this  methyl- 
alcohol  that,  in  practice,  always  serves  as  the  starting 
point  in  the  preparation  of  other  metliyl  compounds 

Methyl- Akohol. — This  substance,  in  ordinary  practice, 


METHYL 


195 


is  never  made  synthetically,  bnt  simply  extracted  from 
wcxxl-spirit,  a  commercial  substance  which  is  produced 
industrially  in  the  dry  distillation  of  wood.  The  wood- 
spirit  is  contained  in  the_  aqueous  portion  of  the  tar  pro- 
duced in  this  operation,  along  with  acetic  acid.  To  recover 
both,  the  tar-water  is  neutralized  with  lime  and  distilled, 
when  the  acetate  remains,  while  the  spirit  distils  oyer, 
along  with  a  deal  of  water,  which,  however,  is  easily 
removed,  as  far  as  necessary,  by  redistillation  and  rejection 
of  the  less  volatile  parts.  The  "crude"  wood-spirit,  as 
thus  obtained,  is  not  unlike  in  its  general  properties  to 
ordinary  spirit  of  wine,  from  which,  however,  it  is  easily 
distinguished  by  its  abominable  smell.  The  ordinary 
commercial  article,  besides  a  variable  percentage  of  water, 
contains  from  35  to  80  per  cent  of  methyl-alcohol ;  the 
rest  consists  chiefly  of  acetone,  but  besides  includes 
dimethyl-acetal,  C2H^(OCH3)2,  acetate  of  methyl,  and 
numerous  other  minor  components.  In  Great  Britain 
large  quantities  of  wood-spirit  are  used  for  the  making 
of  methylated  spirit,  a  mixture  of  ordinary  spirit  of  wine 
with  one-ninth  of  its  volume  of  wood-spirit,  which  is 
allowed  to  be  sold  duty  free  for  the  preparation  of 
varnishes,  and  for  other  industrial  purposes.  In  former 
times,  here  as  elsewhere,  wood-spirit  itself  used  to  be 
employed  as  a  cheap  substitute  for  spiritus  vini ;  but  this 
is  no  longer  so,  since  the  aniline-colour  industry  has  created 
a  large  demand  for  pure  methyl-alcohol.  Hence  in  some 
Continental  works  the  wood-spirit,  instead  of  being  sent 
out  as  such,  is  being  worked  up  for  its  components,  by  the 
following  sequence  of  operations : — (I)  dehydration  by 
lime ;  (2)  heating,  under  an  inverted  condenser,  with 
caustic  soda,  to  convert  the  acetate  into  hydrate  of  methyl ; 
(3)  destruction  of  the  bad  smells  by  mild  oxidation ;  (4) 
distillation  in  a  kind  of  Coffey's  still,  whereby  it  is  split 
up  into  approximately  pure  alcohol,  acetone,  and  "  tails." 

The  new  industry  led  to  the  invention  of  the  following  technical 
methods  for  the  determination,  in  a  given  spirit,  of  the  percentages 
of  real  methyl-alcohol  and  of  acetone. 

The  alcohol  ia  determined  by  saturating  5  c.c.  of  the  spirit  with 
hydriodic  acid  (volatilization  of  alcohol  and  iodide  of  mctnyl  being 
avoided  by  means  of  a  cold-water  bath  and  an  inverted  condenser), 
and  the  product  poured  into  water.  Iodide  of  methyl  separates 
out  as  a  heavy  oil,  which  is  measured  as  it  is.  According  to  direct 
trials  5  c.c.  of  pure  methyl-alcohol  yields  7'45  c.c  of  crude  iodide 
(Krell,  Kramer  and  Grodzky). 

For  the  determination  of  the  acetone  the  following  reagents  are 
required  (Kramer)  :■ — (1)  a  solution  of  iodine,  prepared  by  dissolv- 
ing l2=^254  grammes  of  iodine,  by  means  of  (say)  500  grnramea 
of  iodide  of  potassium,  in  water,  and  diluting  to  1  litre  ;  (2)  a 
solution  of  caustic  soda  containing  twice  (NaOH)  grammes  per  litre  ; 
(3)  alcohol-free  ether.  Ten  c.c.  of  the  soda  are  placed  in  a  gra- 
duated cylinder  and  mixed  intimately,  first  with  1  c.c.  of  the  spirit, 
then  with  5  c.c.  of  the  iodine  solution.  Iodoform  separates  out  (if 
acetone  is  present)  in  minute  yellow  crystal  plates  ;  this  product  is 
•'shaken  out"  by  means  of  10  c.c.  of  ether,  and  determined  by 
evaporating  an  aliquot  part  of  the  ethereal  layer  in  a  tared  watch- 

flass  to  dryness  and  weighing  the  residue.     C3HJO  yields  CHI3; 
ence  1  part  of  iodoform  indicates  0'28  parts  of  acetone. 

The  formula  of  methyl-alcohol  and  its  true  chemical 
character  were  correctly  ascertained  by  Dumas  and  P^ligot 
as  early  as  1834  ;  yet  pure  methyl-alcohol  may  be  said  to 
have  been  an  unknown  substance  until  1852,  when  Wohler 
taught  us  to  prepare  it,  by  first  extracting  the  CH,  of  the 
CH3OH  in  the  wood-spirit  as  oxalate  of  methyl,  and  then 
decomposing  the  (purified)  oxalate  with  water. 

The  most  convenient  raw  material  to  use  nowadays  is  the 
commercial  *'  pure  "  alcohol ;  if  wood-spirit  is  employed  it  had 
better  first  be  purified  by  distillation  over  caustic  soda  {vide  sitpra). 
The  formation  of  the  oxalate  then  is  best  effected  (according  to 
Alexander  Watt)  as  follows  : — 500  grammes  of  oxalic  acid  crystals 
are  mixed  with  200  c.c.  of  oil  of  vitriol  ;  then  500  c.c.  of  the 
npirit  are  added,  the  whole  kept  for  a  time  at  80°  C,  and  thou 
allowed  to  stand  cold  for  twenty-fonr  hours. 

The  lane  crop  of  oxalate  crystals— partly  (CK3)jC.0t,  partly 
CU|.  H .  CtO^ — IS  separated  from  the  liquor  by  pressure  sod  subse- 


quent drjing  over  vitriol,  and  then  decomposed  by  distillation  with 
water. 

The  nqueons  alcohol  thus  olit;iincd  is  dolivdr.ilcil  by  the  well-' 
known  methods  used  iu  the  prepanilimi  of  onliiKiry  iib-iolule  nlcoliol. 

According  to  Kiauior,  a  purer  prciiaratioii  tli.in  \V,.lili'i'a  is 
obtaiued  by  extracting  the  nieth)  1  as  foriiiiali.'  in»lc:id  of  as  o.\:ilate, 
which  is  easily  cli'ci-lJa  by  digesting  tlio  wood-spirit  wiili  a  I'oriiiio 
acid  of  122  specific  gravity,  and  mirifying  the  fovmic  etlicr  by 
fractional  distilUtion.  Tliis  ctha' boils  at  Si",  the  o.vahitr  at  Ifil' 
C,  hence  a  proper  conibiuatiou  of  the  two  nirthods  should  bo 
infinitely  supci  ior  to  citlier.  What  now  follows  must,  in  general,  be 
uudei-stood  to  refer  to  Wiihler's  preparation. 

Pure  methyl-alcohol  is  a  colourless  liquid  similar  in  its 
general  properties,  in  its  behaviour  to  other  chemically 
inert  liquids,  and  in  its  action  as  a  solvent  to  ordinary 
absolute  alcohol,  from  which,  however,  it  differs  by  the 
entire  absence  from  it  of  all  sjiirituous  odour.  A  pre- 
paration which  smells  of  wood-s])irit  may  bo  condemned 
at  once  as  impure.  According  to  H.  Kopp,  ita  sjjecific 
gravity  is  08142  at  0°  C.  and  07997  at  16''-4.  If  the 
volume  at  t°  be  V,  then  (from  0°  to  61°) 

V  =  l■^••OO0n3«-l-l■364xlO-V-^8•741xlO-V. 

The  boiling  point  is  64°-6  to  65°2.  The  tension-curve  was 
determined  by  Eegnault  and  by  Landolt ;  but  the  results 
of  the  two  observers  do  not  agree  except  (approximately) 
at  P  =  760  mm..  Jlethjl-alcohol  has  quite  a  characteristic 
tendency  to  "  bump  "  badly  on  distillation,  which,  however, 
can  be  prevented  by  addition  of  a  small  fragment  of  tin- 
sodium,  which  produces  a  feeble  but  sufficient  current  of 
hydrogen.  Itsspecificheat  is  "0713  ;  latent  heat  of  vapour, 
26"4 ;  combustion  heat,  5307  per  unit  weight  fFavie  and 
Silbermann).  The  refractive  index  for  the  D  (sodium) 
ray  is  I -3379.  ±  -0013  for  10°  =?  5°  C.  (Dale  and  Gladstone):^ 
Methyl-alcohol  mixes  with  water  in  all  proportions  with 
contraction. 

Since  Wohler's  discovery  a  table  for  the  specific  gravities  of 
aqueous  methyl-alcohols  has  been  constructed  experimentally  by 
A.  Dupr^  ;  but  unfortunately  his  alcohol  boiled  at  58'7,  and  con- 
sequently must  have  been  something  dilTereut  from  what  gcnci'ally 
goes  by  this  name. 

In  its  chemical  reactions  methyl-alcohol,  CH3 .  OH^  is 
very  similar  to  ordinary  (ethyl)  alcohol,  CjH^ .  OH,  and 
consequently,  in  the  same  sense  as  the  latter,  analogous  to 
water,  H.OH.  Thus,  for  instance,  metallic  sodium  and 
potassium  dissolve  iu  either  alcohol  with  evolution  of 
hydrogen  and  formation  of  ethylatcs  or  methylates  of  the 
alkali  metals.     Example — 

CHjOH-t-Na  =  CH3.  OJfa+JHj. 

The  two  methylates  crystallize  from  the  solution  with 
crystal-alcohol,  which  can  be  driven  off  in  an  atmosphere 
of  hydrogen  by  heat,  without  decomposition  of  the  salts 
themselves.  Water  at  once  decomposes  them  into  caustic 
alkaU  and  alcohol,  CHj .  ONa  -1-  H .  OH  =  NaOH  +  CH3OH. 
Yet  the  reverse  reaction  takes  place  when  the  alcohol  is 
treated  with  a  large  excess  of  caustic  soda. 

The  action  of  acids  on  methyl-alcohol  is  in  general 
quite  analogous  to  that  on,  for  instance,  cau'stic  soda,  with 
tills  important  difference,  however,  that  what  in  the  caso 
of  NaHO  goes  on  so  readily  in  aqueous  solutions  with 
CH3 .  OH  succeeds  only  under  circumstances  precluding 
the  accumulation  of  water.  In  these  circumstances  wa 
have,  for  instance, 

(1)  CIH  -H  OH .  CH,=H,0 ■^  CI .  CH3 ; 


and  so  on  with  all  monobasic  acidc,   A  dibasic  acid  XHH 
may  act  as  {X)R,  or  as  (XH) .  H  ;  thus,  for  instance, 

(3)  (CjO^H)H  +  OH.CH3=H20  +  CjO..HCR, ; 
Oxalic  acid.  lletliyl  oxulic  add. 

(4)  (C,0,)H,-|-20H.  CH,-2HjO-fCjO,.  (CUj),i 

Methyl  oialate. 


196 


M  ETHYL 


A  tribasic  acid  forms  two  methyl  acids  and  one  neutral 
ether ;  we  have,  for  instance, 

(j)  (From  I'OjH.,,;  I'OjfCHj;  II, ;  rOj(CH,)jH  ;   P04(CH3)j. 

It  ivouM,  however,  be  a  great  mistake  to  suppose  that 
whether,  for  instance  (Ex.  3  and  4^,  the  mononiethyl  or 
the  dimethyl  compound  is  formed  depends  on  the  quantity 
of  methyl-alcohol  employed  per  unit  of  acid.  This  depends 
far  more  largely  on  other  conditions,  as  will  be  illustrated 
ill  next  paragraph.  The  methyl-salts  of  oxygen  acids  are 
called  esters,  in  oiiposition  to  the  chloride,  bromide,  iodide, 
sulphide,  and  oxide,  which  are  set  apart  as  ethers.  Broadly 
sijcaking,  ethers  are  not,  while  esters  are,  readily  decom- 
]io.ied  by  water  into  their  cogeners ;  but  the  nitrate 
C'Hj .  XOj  behaves  in  this  respect  like  an  ether. 

ArUonwiih  Sulphuric  Acid. — Methyl-alcohol  mixes  'with 
oil  of  vitriol  with  considerable  evolution  of  heat  and  (always 
only  partial)  conversion  of  the  two  ingredients  into  uicthyl- 
sulphuric  acid.  Ecjual  volumes  of  acid  and  alcohol  give 
a  good  yield.  To  prepare  pure  methyl  sulphates,  dilute 
the  mixture  largely  with  water,  avoiding  elevation  of 
temperature  (which  would  regenerate  the  ingredients),  and 
saturate  with  carbonate  of  baryta.  Filter  off  the  suli)hate 
of  baryta  to  obtain  a  solution  of  the  pure  methyl  sulphate 
bOj  .  CHj  .  ba  (where  ba  =  iBa  =  1  c/.),  from  which  this 
salt  is  easily  obtained  in  crystals.  From  the  baryta  salt 
any  other  methyl  .sulphate  is  readily  obtained  by  double 
decomposition  with  a  solution  of  the  resjicctive  sulphate  ; 
the  acid  itself,  for  in.^tance,  by  means  of  sulphuric  acid. 
At  higher  temperatures  the  reaction  between  vitriol  and 
methyl-alcohol  results  in  the  formation  of  methyl-ether, 
(CH.|).,0,  or  of  normal  sulphate  of  methyl,  (CH3).,S0.,. 
The  ether  is  a  gas  condensable  into  a  liquid  which,  under 
pressure  of  one  atmosjihere,  boils  at-  21°  C. 

The  gas  dissolves  in  about  one  thirty-seventh  of  its  volume  of 
water  ;  tar  more  largely  in  alcohol  and  in  ether;  most  abundantly 
in  oil  of  vitriol,  which  dissolves  about  six  hundicd  times  its 
volume  of  methyl-other  gas,  thus  alTurding  a  very  liandy  means 
for  storing  up  the  gas  for  use.  The  solution  needs  only  be  diluted 
with  its  own  volume  of  water  to  be  broken  up  into  its  components 
(Eilcnmeycr). 

Liquefied  oxide  of  methyl  is  now  being  produced  on  the 
manufacturing  scale,  and  sold  as  a  powerful  refrigerating 
agent.  One  part  of  sulphuric  acid  is  mixed  with  a  little 
over  one  part  of  dehydrated  wood-spirit,  and  the  mixture 
heated  to  125°  to  128'  C.  (130°  being  carefully  avoided), 
when  methyl-ether  goes  off.  When  the  mixture  is 
exhausted,  more  wood-spirit  is  added  to  the  residue  so  as 
to  re-establish  the  original  specific  gravity  (of  1'29),  and 
the  heating  resumed,  which  again  furnishes  a  supply  of 
the  gas,  and  so  on.  This  ])roves  that  the  process  is  not,  as 
used  to  be  supposed,  one  of  mere  dehydration,  but  a  cycle 
of  reactions  analogous  to  those  in  the  ordinary  process  of 
ctherification,  as  shown  by  the  equations : — 

(1)  S0jH;-^CH30n  =  S0j.  HCH3+H,,0. 

(2)  &O4.  il.  Cllj-H  H.  0.  CHj-SOjHH-l-CHa.O.CHj. 
Th.-  ester,  SO^iCir,),  though  obtainable   by  distillation  of  the 

aleohol  willi  in  parts  of  vitriol,  is  more  couvenientlv  prepared  IVoni 
pure  niethvl-sulplmrio  acid  hv  dislillntion  in  vucuiiin  at  130°-HO' 
C;  llius:--2SiljCll.,.  H-SOjII.,.hSOj(CH,,V..  It  is  a  colomlcss 
li.|uiil,  sniclliiig  like  peppermint,  spceiUe  gravity  1-327  at  18°;  it 
boils  at  187'  to  188°  C. 

Chloride  o/mdliyJ,  CHjCl,  readily  produced  by  the  action 
of  hydrochloric  acid  gas  and  hot  methyl-alcohol  (preferably 
in  the  presence  of  chloride  of  zinc  as  an  auxiliary  dchy- 
drator),  is  a  gas  which,  under  ordinary  pressure,  condenses 
into  a  liquid  at  -  23'  C.  The  gaS,  at  ordinary  temperatures 
(though  very  readily  soluble  in  alcohol),  is  only  sparingly 
absorbed  by  water,  which,  however,  at  6°  unites  with  it 
into  a  solid  hydrate.  Condensed  methyl  chloride  ha.<! 
Ijecoine  an  article  of  commerce,  being  largely  produced 
frora.trimethyiamine  (vidn  iii/ra)  and  used  aa  a  powerful 


j  frigorific  agent,  as  well  as  for  the  cxtra'ition  of  peffiinlM 
from  flowers.  Regarding  nitrite  of  methyl,  NO — O — CHj, 
its  interesting  isomeride   uitromethane,   O.^N — CH^,  and 

I  nitrate  of  methyl,  N0.,CH3,  we  must  refer  to  the  hand- 

j  books  of  organic  chemistry. 

Iodide  of  methyl,  CH3,  is  obtained  by  distilling  methyl- 

j  alcohol  with  hydriodic  acid,  which  latter  is  best  produced 

.  off-hand  by  addition  to  the  alcohol  of  iodine  and  amorphous 
phosphorus.  It  is  a  colourless  liquid  of  2'269  specific 
gravity,  boiling  at  42°'5  C,  insoluble  in  water. 

Ori/anir  Melhyl- Esters. — The  more  volatile  ones  are  in 
general  easily  obtained  by  distillation  of  the  respective 
arid  with  methyl-alcohol,  or  with  methyl-alcohol  and  oil 
of  vitriol  (virtually  SOj .  H .  CH^) ;  the  le.5s  volatile 
ones  more  conveniently  by  passing  hydrochloric  acid  gaa 
into  a  methyl-alcoholic  solution  of  the  acid.  We  have  no 
space  for  the  individual  substances ;  but  the  salicylate 
CjHjOj .  CH,  may  just  be  named  as  being  the  principal 
component  of  the  essential  oil  of  Gaull/uria  procumbent 
(wint'ergreen  oil). 

Methylamines. — The  general  result  of  the  action  of 
ammonia  on  an  ester  is  the  formation  of  alcohol  and  acid 
amide.     Example — 

CaHjO)- 0-CH3  +  HNHj  =  CH3 .  OH-hCoHjO.  NH.. 

Acetate  oi  rautliyL  AcelaiiilJc. 

With  iodide  of  methyl  this  reaction  is  an  obvious  im- 
possibility ;  what  really  takes  place  (as  A.  W.  Hof mann 
has  shown  for  this  and  all  analogous  cases)  is  that  the 
iodide  unites  with  the  ammonia  into  the  HI  compound 
HI.  NHiCH,  of  a  base  NUjCHj,  which  can  be  separated 
from  the  acid  by  distillation  with  caustic  ijotash,  and  when 
thus  liberated  presents  itself  as  a  gas  surprisingly  similar 
(almost  to  identity)  to  ammonia.  The  analogy  extends  to 
the  action  on  iodide  of  methyl,  which,  in  the  case  of  methyl- 
aniine,  NH.CHj,  leads  to  the  formation  of  diniethylamine, 
NH.(CH3)^;  and  from  the  latter  again  trimethylamine, 
N(CH3)3,  can  be  prepared  by  a  simple  repetition  of  the 
operation.  These  three  amines  are  closely  analogous  in 
their  chemical  character  to  ammonia,  the  points  of  differ-' 
ence  becoming  the  more  marked  the  greater  the  number  of 
(CH3)'s  in  the  molecule.  Trimethylamine,  having  lost  all 
its  ammonia-hydrogen,  cannot  possibly  act  upon  iodide  of 
methyl  like  its  analogues.  What  it  really  does  is  to  unite 
with  the  iodide  into  "iodide  of  tetrametliyl-ammonium," 
I .  N(CH3)j,  analogous  to  iodide  of  ammonium,  INHj,  we 
should  say,  if  it  were  not  the  reverse,  because  the  organic 
■  iodide  (unlike  its  prototype,  which  is  an  ammonium 
j  compound  only  in  theory),  when  treated  with  moist  oxide 
I  of  silver  (virtually  with  AgOH),  really  docs  yield  a  solution 
of  a  true  analogue  of  caustic  i)otash  in  the  shape  of 
'  hydroxide  of  tetramethyl-ammouium,  N(CH3)j.  OH. 

In   regard  to  the  actual    preparation   of  .these  several 

I  bodies,  which  is  not  so  simple  as  might  appear  from  our 

I  exposition  of  their  mutual  relations,  we  must  refer  to  the 

j  handbooks  of  organic  chemistry.     But  we  must  not  omit 

'1  to  state  that  trimethylamine,  which  only  the  other  day 

was  never  seen  outside  a  chemical  museum,  is  now  being 

manufactured  on  a  large  scale,  and  promises  to  play  an 

1  important  part  in  industrial  chemistry.     The  waste  liquors 

'  obtained  in  the  distillation  of  alcohol  from  fermented  bectr 

I  root  molasses  serve  as  a  raw  material  for  its  preparation. 

I  These  liquors,  when  evaporated  to  dryness  and  subjected 

I  to  dry  distillation,  yield,  besides  tar  and  gases,  an  aqueous 

liquid  containing  large  quantities  of  ammonia,  acclonitrile, 

methyl-alcohol,  and  trimethylamine.    This  liquor  is  neutral- 

'  ized  with  sulphuric  acid,  and  distilled,  when  the  nitrilo 

and  the  methyl-alcohol   distil    over,  to  bo   recovered   by 

proper  methods.     From  tlic  mixed  .solution  of  the  sul[)hatcs 

I  of  ammonia  and  trimethylamine  the  former  is  separated 

I  out  as  far  as  possible  by  crystallization ;  the  mother-liquor 


METHYL 


197 


is  distilled  with  lime ;  the  volatile  bases  are  absorbed  in 
hydrochloric  acid ;  the  hydrochloric  solution  is  evaporated ; 
and  the  sal-ammoniac  which  comes  out  at  first  is,  as  far  as 
possible,  fished  out.  The  last  mother-liquor  is  evaporated 
to  dryness,  and  in  this  form  represents  commercial 
trimethylamine  hydrochlorate.  It  is  this  product  which 
serves  for  the  preparation  of  methyl  chloride  [vide  sitpra), 
the  process  being  founded  upon  the  fact  that  a  concentrated 
solution  of  the  salt,  when  heated,  breaks  up  3HC1  .  N(CH3)3 
into  2N(CH3)3  of  free  trimethylamine -f  NH2 .  CH3HCI  of 
hydrochlorate  of  monomethylamine  and  2CH3CI  of  methyl 
chloride. 

These  processes  are  being  carried  out  industriaUy  by 
Vincent  in  France.  But  this  base  trimethylamine  seems 
destined  to  do  more  than  provide  us  with  a  new  refrigerat- 
ing agent.  The  attempt  has  been  made — it  would  appear, 
with  success — to  utilize  it  for  the  preparation  of  pure 
carbonate  of  potash  from  native  chloride  of  potassium, 
just  as  ordinary  ammonia,  in  the  famous  ammonia-soda 
process,  serves  for  the  conversion  of  common  salt  into  soda- 
ash. 

Methyl  Cyanides. — There  are  two  distinct  bodies  which,  by  com- 
position and  by  synthesis,  are  both  CH3  +  NC;  they  are  named 
"  acetonitrile "  (formerly  called  simply  cyanide  of  methyl)  and 
isocyanide  of  metliyl  or  methylcarbamine  respectively. 

Acetouitiile  was  discovered  by  Dumas  in  1847.  It  may  be  pre- 
pared by  tlie  distilhitiou  of  a  mi.\ture  of  mtthylsulphate  and  of 
cyanide  of  potassium  ;  but  is  obtained  more  easily  and  in  a  purer 
Btate  by  distilling  acetamide  with  phosphoric  anhydride.  Acetate 
of  ammonia  may  be  used  instead  of  the  amide,  but  it  does  not  work 
BO  well 

CH,.CO.O(NHJ         CH3.C0.(NH.)  CH,.CN 

Acetate  of  NH,  Acetamide  Nitrilo 

=  A(say).  =A-H.O.  =A-2HjO. 

It  is  a  colourless  liquid  of  a  pungent  aromatic  odour,  with  specific 
gi-avity  -805  at  0°,  and  boils  at  82  C.  When  heated  with  aqueous 
potash  (at  the  wrong  end  of  a  condenser)  it  breaks  up  with  for- 
mation of  ammonia  and  acetate  of  potash.  Whence  we  conclude 
that  the  methyl  is  combined  more  directly  with  the  carbon  of  the 
cyanogen,  thus  : 

N  {  C-CH3}  ■(■  2H.0  =  N  H3  -H  CH, .  COOH . 
Acetic  acid. 
This  conclusion  is  supported  by  the  action  on  the  nitrile  of  nascent 
hydrogen,  which  leads  to  the  formation  of  ethylamine,  thus  (Men- 
dius) : — 

NC— CH3  -HH  =  H„N— CH2CH3. 

Etliyl;itilinc. 

In  either  case  we  pass  from  a  monocarbon  to  a  dicarbon   body, 
virtually  from  methyl  to  ethyl  alcohol. 

The  isocyanide  is  prepared  by  heating  iodide  of  methyl  with 
ej-anide  of  silver  (CH3I ;  2NCAg)  and  ether  in  a  scaled-up  tube  to 
^130°  to  140",  to  produce  the  crystalline  body  AgNC-hNCCHj  (and 
Agl).  The  double  cyanide,  wlien  distilled  with  some  water  and 
cyanide  of  potassium,  breaks  up  into  its  components, — the  NC'Ag 
forming  (NC)j  AgK  ;  and  the  cyanide  of  methyl  distils  over.  It  is  a 
colourless  liquid,  charactenzed  by  quite  an  unbearably  irritating  and 
sickening  smell.  The  specific  giavity  is  756  at  14°,  the  boiling  point 
£9°  C.  It  combines  with  hydrochloric  acid  into  a  crystalline  salt 
vhich  is  readilydecomposed  by  water  into  methylamine  and  formic 
acid.  Whence  wo  conclude  that  in  this  case  the  cyanogen  is  tied 
to  the  methyl  by  its  nilrog-^n  ;  thus  :— 

C{N-ClIj}+2H,0  =  Il.C00H-hNH...CH,. 
Fonnlc  aoid,    Mc'Ii^-liiisine. 
The  methyl  here  remains  metl^yi,  being  separated  by  an  N  from  the 
cyanogen-carbon,  whicU  latter  passes  into  fomiic  acid. 

We  must  not  close  this  section  without  at  least  referring  to 
the  me'.Ii'jipkosphincs,  as  being  a  set  of  bodies  related  to  PH, 
(phosiiiune)asthemetliylamincsare  to  NH,  (.immonia),  and  similar 
tj>  "liese  in  their  chemical  character,  in  so  far  as  they  are  bases. 
Ae  points  of  difference  between  the  two  scries  are  of  pretty  much 
in-5  same  sense  as  those  between  the  two  prototyjics.  Thus,  for 
Aiitance,  while  trimethylamine  NlCHa)^  is  a  strong  base,  but  inert 
■o  oxygen  gas,  trimcthylphosphine  k  a  lelativcly  feeble  base, 
oiit  in  contact  with  air  greedily  absorbs  o.vygen  with  formation  of 
e.i^oxide  JP(CH3)30,  the  like  of  which  in  the  nitrogen  series  has  no 
existenop. 

S'!(/pfiirCOTn;)fli(iirf.«<)/i/c%Z.— Substances  analogous  to  methyl- 
alcohol  and  methvl-cther  respectively  can  be  obtained  by  the  dis- 
tillation of  methyl  sulidiatc  of  jiotassium  with)  strong  solutions  of 


the  p^assmm  sulphides  EH6  and  KjS  respectively.  The  body 
CHj.bH  IS  known  as  melhyl.mercaptaue,  tlio  other  (CH,).,S  aa 
sulphide  of  methyl.  Both  are  very  volatile  stinking  li.mids. 
Sulphide  of  methyl  claims  a  special  interest  as  being  the  starting 
point  for  the  preparation  of  an  important  class  o(  boilics  callcS 
trymethyl  su  phine  coirpouuds.  The  sulphide  ((.  ll,).,S  readily 
unites  Kith  the  iodide  CH,,I  into  crystals  of  iodide  of'trimethyl 
sulphine,  (CH3)3S.  I,  a  substance  which  is  closely  analogous  in  its 
chemical  character  to  the  iodide  of  tctiamctli.\  1-ainiiiouiimi  Hoist 
oxide  of  silver,  for  instance,  converts  it  into  a  "stronyly  bisic  hydrate, 
S(CH3)3  •  OH,  which  m  its  avidity  for  acids  almost  bents  its  analo-'ou 
in  the  nitrogen  family.  An  investigation  of  its  salts  w.as  published 
by  Crum  Brown  and  Blaikie. 

McUiJjl  ^)sciiiifc5.— Ai-scuiferous  bases  constituted  like  mono-  or 
ui-methylamine  (bodies  such  as  AsHXHj,  aniilogous  to  KH„.  CH.) 
do  not  seem  to  e.\ist  What  we  do  "know  of  are— (1)  a  triuielhyl- 
arsine  and  the  iodide  and  the  hydroxide  of  tctranietliyhu  sonium 
— As(CH3)3,  As(CH3)jI,  and  As(CH3),0H,— bodies  discovered  by 
Cahours  and  Riche ;  (>)  a  whole  series  of  monomctliylic  bodies 
As(CHa)X2  (where  X  =  C1,  Br,  orXj-O.S),  discovered  by  Raeyeriii 
18.57  ;  (3)  the  kakoJyle  compouuds,  a  series  of  boilies,  As(Cii3)., .  X 
or  As(CH3)o.  Xj,  which  were  discovered  and  iuvestigatcd  by  li.  Bunseii 
in  1842.  This  great  investigation  marks  an  epocli  in  the  history  of 
organic  chemistry,  and  our  article  would  not  be  complete  without  at 
least  a  short  summary  of  ite  results.  Bunseu  started  in  his  investiga- 
tion with  a  liquid  which  had  been  obtained  by  Cadet  .as  early  as  1 7ijO, 
I  by  the  dry  distillation  of  equal  parU  of  white  ai-scnic  and  anhydrous 
acetate  of  potash,  and  which  nobody  cared  to  investigate  because 
it  emits  fumes  which  have  an  indescribably  sidieniiig  smell  and  an 
intensity  of  poisonous  action,  compared  with  which  that  of  white 
arsenic  itself  appears  insignificant.  It  was  rcseived  for  Eunsoii  to 
attack  this  awful  substance  and  force  it  to  give  an  account  of  if  self. 
According  to  Bunsen,  Cadet's  liquid  is  substantially  an  oxide, 
(AsCoHjUO,  which  has  strongly  basic  properlics,  readily  exchang- 
ing its  O  forClj,  &c.  To  obtain  the  pure  substance,  tl.c  liquor  is 
distilled  with  corrosive  sublimate  and  hydrochloric  add,  which  in 
the  first  instance  yields  the  pure  muriate  of  the  base  As(Cll  ,)..C1, 
in  the  form  of  a  liquid  volatile  above  10U°  into  vapours  which  take 
fire  spontaneously  in  air.  Fiom  this  chloride  of  kakodyht  the  pure 
oxide  is  obtained  by  distillation  Avith  caustic  potash.  The  pure 
o.xido  emits  no  fumes;  its  specific  giavity  is  1-462;  it  boils  near 
150°.  A  mixture  of  its  vapour  with  air  detonates  at  50°  C.  From 
the  chloride  again,  Bunsen  obtained  the  fice  radical  lakodyU, 
(AsCiH,,);,  by  treatment  with  metallic  zinc  iu  a  special  apparatus, 
so  constructed  that  all  the  several  operations  involved  could  be 
carried  out  without  bringing  the  contents  iu  contact  with  air,^' 
a  necessary  precaution,  because  kakodyle  is  a  liquid  which  takes 
fire  in  air  spontaneously  even  at  ordinaiy  tcmiieratures.  Pure 
kakodyle  is  a  heavy  colourless  liquid  boiling  at  about  170°  C,  and 
freezing  at  -6°.  When  exposed  to  o.vygen  or  chlorine  it  sull'ers 
destructive  combustion  ;  but  on  slow  access  of  air  it  is  oxidized  into 
its  oxide,  (AsCjHJ.O,  and  kakodylic  acid;  with  chlorine  water  it 
unites  into  the  chloride  whidi  it  came  from  ;  it  also  unites  directly 
with  sulphur  and  other  olemeiiti ;  iu  short,  it  is  exactly  to  kako- 
dyle compounds  what  potassium  is  to  potash  and  potash  salts, 
"a  true  organic  element,"  as  Bunsen  himself  put  it.  'J'liis  dis- 
covery of  Bunsen's  was  greeted  with  an  enthusiasm  which  it  is 
difficult  in  these  days  to  realize.  Witli  us  now,  a  radic:d  is 
intrinsically  a  fiction  ;  it  was  dilferent  in  1842.  By  the  isolalioii 
of  kakodyle  the  "radical"  notion  suddenly  rose  from  an  unproved 
hypothesis  to  the  rank  of  a  theory  based  oil  expeiinient.  Still, 
however  much  our  theoretical  uotions  may  shift,  Buusou's  lesear.-'* 
will  stand  as  a  piece  of  monumental  scientific  worl^ 

Kakodylic  acid,  As.  O.  (CHj),.  OH.  i=  .-,i.-<:t  .'=i--^-.;;1^.-;l!y  pre- 
pared from  the  oxide  by  addition  of  watif  .-.r.d  ov.\\s  of  mercury, 

H„0-H2HgO  supplyiugthc  H.-i-O,  re<;:;:rt:.-i  :orl(AsCHr.)jO.  This 
is  a  crystalline  monobasic  aci-J,  aoiuble  in  water.  "  Unlike  the 
kakods'lides  of  the  As.  S3  type,  it  has  no  smell,  and  is  no  very 
violent  poison,     it  takes  six  grains  of  it  to  kill  a  i-abbit. 

Mtlrxllic  ilcOi  itifts.— Examples  of  these  are— Sb(CH3)3  j  SWCIU). ; 
JIg(CH3).  ;  Zn(CH3)2  ;  PMCHs)^;  AHCHj),, ;  SiKCllj)^ .  To  give  an 
idea  of  the  chemical  character  of  this  interesting  class  of  bodies  we 
choose  zi/ic-iiuthyl  as  a  representative  examide,  and  state  briefly 
the  chief  points  of  its  chemical  history.  This  body  was  discovered  by 
Fiankland  in  1849.  It  is  prepared  by  boiling  iodide  of  methyl  over 
granulated  zinc  in  a  flask  connected  with  an  uiverted  condenser,  and 
so  contrived  otherwise  that  the  contents  are  protected  against  access 
of  moisture  and  oxygen.     Under  these  circunislances  the  two  in- 

fredients  gradually  unite  into  a  non-volatile  and  solid  eoinpoiiud 
Zn.(CH3).  When  this  body  is  heated  with  more  of  iotlide  of 
methyl,  it  undergoes  dctfoniposition,  with  fomiation  of  iodide  of 
zinc  and  of  dimethyl  gas,  I— Zn— CH3  +  CHsl-Znlj-KCll3)3, 
which  reaction  to  some  extent  takes  place  unavoidably  in  the  pre- 
paration of  the  zinc  salt,  however  great  an  excess  of  metal  may  bo  ' 
taken.  What  survives  needs  only  to  be  subjected  to  dry  distillation 
(iu  the  absence  of  air)  to  yield  a  distillate  of  zinc-methyl:  — 
2I_Zn— CH8=.ZnIj-l-  Zu(CH3)j, 


19« 


M  E  T  — M  E  T 


Zinc-methyl  is  a  colourless  liquid  of  1  'SSS  spccifvc  gravity  at  1 0°-5, 
which  boils  at  46°  Ci  in  contact  with  air  it  takes  lire.  Water 
dccniniioses  it  at  once  into  hydrate  of  oxide  of  zinc  and  marsh  gas, 
Zii(CH3),  =  Zn(OH)j  +  2CH3H.  Of  other  reactions  the  following 
may  lie  named.  (1)  When  digested  with  sodium,  it  yields  a  prccipi- 
^t-ite  of  metallic  zinc,  and  a  double  compound  of  itself  and  sodiura- 
Vncthyl.  This  latter  unites  readily  with  carbonic  acid  into  acetate 
of  .soda,  ^■aCH,^-C0J=.C■H3— CO— OXa  (Wanklyn).  (2)  With 
chloride  of  acetyl  it  forms' acetone,  Zn(CH3)j  +  2CH, .  CO .  CI  = 
ZnClj  +  2CO(Cll3)j(FreunJ).  (3)  Under  somewhat  different  condi- 
Tions,  includiii;^  the  presence  of  an  excess  of  Zn(Cf-^.^),_,,  a  compound 
is  produced  which  with  water,  yields  tertiary  butyl-alcohol  (Boutle- 
row)  :* 

COtCHj)^  +  Zn(C Hj), -  C(CH3)3 .  0 .  ZnCHj  =  A ; , 
A+2H.0H  =Zn{0H)j  +  CH,  +  C(CH»)3-0H.' 

Tertiary  alcoliol.  (yf^  D. ) 

METRONOME,  an  instrument  for  denoting  the  speed 
at  which  a  musical  composition  is  to  be  performed.  Its 
invention  is  generally,  but  falsely,  ascribed  to  Johann 
Nepomuk  MaeUel,  a  native  of  Eatisbon  (1772-1838).  It 
consists  of  a  pendulum  swung  on  a  pivot;  below  the  pivot 
is  a  fixed  weight,  and  above  it  is  a  sliding  weight  that 
regulates  the  velocity  of  the  oscillations  by  the  greater  or  less 
'distance  from  the  pivot  to  which  it  is  adjusted.  The  silent 
metronome  is  impelled  by  the  touch,  and  ceases  to  beat 
when  this  impulse  dies ;  it  has  a  scale  of  numbers  marked 
on  the  pendulum,  and  the  upper  part  of  the  sliding  weight 
is  placed  under  that  number  which  is  to  indicate  the 
quickness  of  a  stated  note,  as  M.M.  (Maelzel's  Metronome) 
<:)=  60,  or  «  =  72,  or  •  =  108,  or  the  like.    The  number  60 

implies  a  second  of  time  for  each  single  oscillation  of  the 
pendulum, — numbers  lower  than  this  denoting  slower,  and 
higher  numbers  quicker  beats.  The  scale  at  first  ex- 
tended from  50  to  160,  but  now  ranges  from  40  to  208. 
A  more  complicated  metronome  is  impelled"  by  clock-work, 
makes  a  ticking  sound  at  each  beat,  and  continues  its  action 
till  the  works  run  down ;  a  still  more  intricate  machine 
Las  also  a  bell  which  is  struck  at  the  first  of  any  number 
of  beats  willed  by  the  person  who  regulates  it,  and  so 
signifies  the  accent  as  well  as  the  time. 

The  earliest  instrument  of  the  kind,  a  weighted  pendidum 
of  variable  length,  is  described  in  a  paper  by  litienne  Loulii 
(Paris,  1696;  Am.sterdam,  1698).  Attempts  were  also 
made  by  Enbrayg  (1732)  and  Gabory  (1771).  Harrison, 
who  "ained  the  prize  awarded  by  the  English  Government 
for  his  chronometer,  published  a  description  of  an  instru- 
ment for  the  purpose  in  1775.  Davaux  (1784),  Pelletier, 
Abel  Burja  (1790),  and  Weiske  (also  1790)  described 
their  various  experiments  for  measuring  musical  time.  In 
1813  Gottfried  Weber,  the  composer,  theorist,  and  essayist, 
proposed  a  weighted  ribbon  graduated  by  inches  or  smaller 
divisions,  which  might  be  held  or  otherwise  fixed  at  any 
desired  length,  and  would  infallibly  oscillate  at  the  si\me 
speed  so  long  as  the  impulse  lasted  ;  this,  the  simplest,  is 
also  the  surest,  the  most  enduring,  the  most  portable,  and 
the  cheapest  invention  that  has  come  before  the  world, 
and  one  can  but  wonder  that  it  has  not  been  universally 
accepted.  Stijukel  and  Zmeskall  produced  each  an  instru- 
ment ;  and  Maelzel  made  some  slight  modification  of  that 
by  the  former,  about  the  end  of  1812,  which  he  announced 
as  a  new  invention  of  his  own, and  exhibited  from  city  to  city 
on  the  Continent.  It  was,  as  nearly  as  can  be  ascertained, 
in  1812  that  Winkel,  a  mechanician  of  Amsterdam,  devised 
a  plan  for  reducing  the  inconvenient  length  of  all  existing 
instruments,  on  the  principle  of  the  double  pendulum,  rock- 
ing on  both  sides  of  a  centre  and  balanced  by  a  fixed  and  a 
variable  weight.  He  spent  three  years  in  completing  it, 
and  it  is  described  and  commended  in  the  Report  of  the 
'  ^Nellicrhinds  Academy  of  Sciences,  August  1 4, 1815.  Maelzel 
thereupon  went  to  Amsterdam',  saw  Winkel  arid  inspected 
his  invention,  and,  recognizing  its  great  superiority  to  what 
lie  called  his  own,  offered  to  buy  all  right  and  title  to  it. 


Winkel  refused,  and  so  Maelzei  constnictea'a-ebpyot^lBs 
instrument,  to  which  he  added  nothing  but  the  scale  -of 
numbers,  took  this  copy  to  Paris,  obtained  a  patent  for  it, 
and  in  1816  established  there,  in  his  own  name,  a  manu- 
factory for  metronomes.  When  the  impostor  revisited 
Amsterdam,  the  inventor  instituted  proceedings  against 
him  for  his  piracy,  and  the  Academy  of  Sciences  decided 
in  Winkel's  favour,  declaring  that  the  graduated  scale  was 
the  only  point  in  which  the  instrumen't  of  Maelzel  differed 
from  his.  Maelzel's  scale  was  needlessly  and  arBitrarily 
complicated,  proceeding  by  twos  from  40  to  60,  by  threes 
from  60  to  72,  by  fours  from  72  to  120,  by  sixes  from  120 
to  144,  and  by  eights  from  144  to  208.  Dr  Crotch  con- 
structed a  time-measurer,  and  Henry  Smart  (the  violinist, 
and  father  of  the  composer  of  the  same  name)  made  another 
in  1821,  both  before  that  received  as  Maelzel's  was  known 
in  England.  In  1882  James  Mitchell,  a  Scotsman,  made 
an  ingenious  amplification  of  the  Maelzel  clock-work, 
reducing  to  mechanical  demonstration  what  formerly  rested 
wholly  on  the  feeling  of  the  performer.  Although 
"  Maelzel's  metronome  "  has  universal  acceptance,  the  silent 
metronome  and  still  more  Weber's  graduated  ribbon  are 
greatly  to  be  preferred,  for  the  clock-work  of  the  other  is 
liable  to  be  out  of  order,  and  needs  a  nicety  of  regulation 
which  is  almost  impossible  ;  for  instance,  when  Sir  George 
Smart  had  to  mark  the  traditional  times  of  the  several 
pieces  in  the  Dettingen  Te  Deum,  he  tested  them  by  twelve 
metronomes,  no  two  of  which  beat  together.  The  value  of 
the  machine  is  exaggerated,  for  no  living  performer  could 
execute  a  piece  in  unvaried  time  throughout,  and  no 
student  could  practise  under  the  tjTanny  of  its  beat ;  and 
conductors  of  music,  nay,  composers  themselves,  will  give 
the  same  piece  slightly  slower  or  quicker  on  different 
occasions,  according  to  the  circumstances  of  performance. 

METSU,  Gabriel,  a  Dutch  painter  of  celebrity  (born 
in  1630,  died  after  1667),  is  one  of  the  few  artists  of 
renown  in  Holland  whose  life  has  remained  obscure. 
Houbraken,  who  eagerly  collected  anecdotes  of  painters 
in  the  18th  century,  was  unable  to  gather  more  from  the 
gossip  of  his  contemporaries  than  that,  as  early  as  1658, 
!Metsu,  at  the  age  of  forty-three,  submitted  to  a  dangerous 
surgical  operation.  The  inference  drawn  by  superficial 
readers  from  this  statement  has  been  that  death  immediately 
ensued.  A  more  careful  pentsal  would  have  shown  that 
Houbraken  knew  that  Sletsu  had  given  le.ssons  to  Da 
JIusscher  in  1665.  Local  records  now  reveal  that  Gabriel 
was  the  son  of  Jacques  Jletsu,  who  lived  most  of  his  days 
at  Leyden,  where  he  was  three  times  married.  The  last  of 
these  marriages  was  celebrated  in  1625,  and  Jacomma 
Garnijers,  herself  the  widow  of  a  painter,  gave  birth  to 
Gabriel  in  1630.  Connected  by  both  his  parents  with  art, 
Metsu  was  probably  taught  first  by  his  father  and  then  by 
Gerard  Dow.  Ho  probably  finished  his  training  under 
Rembrandt.  So  far  back  as  1648,  but  a  few  days  earlier 
than  Jan  Stcen,  who  is  said  to  have  painted  his  portrait, 
Jletsu  was  registered  in  the  painters'  corporation  at  Leyden; 
and  the  books  of  the  guild  also  tell  us  that  he  remained  a 
member  in  1649.  In  1650  he  ceased  to  subscribe,  and  works 
bearing  his  name  and  the  date  of  1653  give  countenance  to 
the  belief  that  he  had  then  settled  at  Amsterdam,  v^tis  he 
continued  his  studies  under  Rembrandt.  His  companions 
at  the  time  would  naturally  be  Do  Hooch  and  Van  dcr 
Meer,  whose  example  he  soon  followed  when  it  came  to  his 
turn  to  select  the  class  of  subjects  for  which  his  genius 
fitted  him.  Under  the  influence  of  Rembrandt  he  prc>- 
duced  the  Woman  Taken  in  Adultery,  a  large  picture  witb 
the  date  of  1653,  in  the  Louvre,  in  which  no  one  would 
suspect  the  painter  of  high  life  or  tavcnis  were  it  not  that 
his  name  is  written  at  fuU  length  on  the  canvas.  The 
artist  who  thus  repeated  the  gospel  subjects  familiar^ta 


M  E  T  — M  E  T 


199 


Tlinck  and  Eeckhout  was  also  acquainted  with  tho  Oriental 
wardrobe  of  Rembrandt,  and  ready  to  use  it,  like  all  his 
contemporaries.  But  he  probably  observed  that  sacred 
art  was  ill  suited  to  his  temper,  or  he  found  the  field 
too  strongly  occupied,  and  happily  for  himself,  as  well 
as  for  his  admirers,  he  turned  to  other  subjects  for 
which  he  was  better  fitted.  We  may  doubt  whether  he 
tried  the  style  of  allegory  as  illustrated  in  a  picture  of 
Justice  Protecting  Virtue  and  Chastising  Vice  in  the 
gallery  of  the  Hague.  There  is  every  reason  to  think  that 
this  rough  and  frosty  composition  was  wrought  by  quite 
another  master.  What  Metsu  undertook  and  carried  out 
from  the  first  with  surprising  success  was  the  low  life  of 
the  market  and  tavern,  contrasted  with  wonderful  versa- 
tility by  incidents  of  high  .life  and  the  drawing-room. 
In  each  of  these  spheres  he  combined  humour  with  expres- 
sion, a  keen  appreciation  of  nature  with  feeling,  apd  breadth 
with  delicacy  of  touch,  unsurpassed  by  any  of  his  contem- 
poraries. In  no  single  instance  do  the  artistic  .lessons  of 
Rembrandt  appear  to  have  been  lost  upon  him.  Tho  same 
principles  of  light  and  shade  which  had  marked  his  school- 
-work  in  the  Woman  Taken  in  Adultery  were  applied  to 
subjects  of  quite  a  different  kind.  A  group  in  a  drawing- 
room,  a  series  of  groups  in  the  market-place,  a  single  figure 
in  the  gloom  of  a  tavern  or  parlour,  was  treated  with  the 
utmost  felicity  by  fit  concentration  and  gradation  of 
light;  a  warm  flush  of  tone  pervaded  every  part,  and,  with 
that,  the  study  of  texture  in  stuffs  was  carried  as  far  as  it 
had  been  by  Terburg  or  Dow,  if  not  with  the  finish  or 
the  brio  of  De  Hooch.  Metsu's  pictures  are  all  in  such 
admirable  keeping,  and  so  warm  and  harmonious  in  his 
middle  or  so  cool  and  harmonious  in  his  closing  time, 
that  they  always  make  a  pleasing  impression.  They  are 
more  subtle  in  modulation  than  Dow's,  more  spirited  and 
forcible  in  touch  thaij  Terburg's ;  and,  if  Terburg  may  of 
right  claim  to  have  first  painted  the  true  satin  robe,  he 
never  painted  it  more  softly  or  with  more  judgment  as  to 
colour  than  Metsu. 

That  Metsu  married  and  became  a  citizen  of  Amsterdam 
in  16-59  would  only  prove  that  his  residence  in  the  com- 
mercial capital  of  the  Netherlands  was  later  than  historians 
have  generally  assumed.  But  there  is  no  reason  to  think 
that  Metsu  claimed  his  citizenship  at  once.  The  privileges 
of  a  burgess  were  given  in  exchange  for  a  payment  of  dues, 
and  these  painters  had  various  ways  of  avoiding  unless  they 
married.  One  of  the  best  pictures  of  Metsu's  manhood  is 
the  Market-place  of  Amsterdam,  at  the  Louvre,  respecting 
which  it  is  difficult  to  distribute  praise  in  fair  proportions, 
80  excellent  are  the  various  parts,  the  characteristic  move- 
ment and  action  of  the  dramatis  persotiss,  the  selection  of 
faces,  the  expression  and  the  gesture,  and  the  texture  of 
ithe  things  depicted.  A  tin  can  in  the  arm  of  a  cook  is  a 
marvel  of  imitation,  but  the  cook's  face  is  also  a  marvel 
of  expression.  Equally  fine,  though  earlier,  are  the 
Sportsman  (dated  1661)  and  the  Tavern  (also  1661)  at  the 
Hague  and  Dresden  Museiuns,  and  the  Game-Dealer's  Shop, 
also  at  Dresden,  with  the  painter's  signature  and  1662. 

Metsu  is  one  of  the  painters  of  whose  skill  Holland  still  pre- 
serves examples,  yet  whose  best  pictures  are  either  in  England  or  in 
France  or  in  tho  galleries  of  Germany.  The  value  of  his  works  is 
large,  and  at  the  Pommersfelden  sale  in  1867  the  Jealons  Husband 
Dictating  his  Wife's  Letters,  though  hut  one  of  several  replicas, 
|Was  bought  by  Lord  Hertford  for  little  short  of  £2000,  while  for 
the  Ride  of  the  Prince  of  Orange,  in  the  GkU  collection  at  Vienna, 
£3000  was  paid  by  Baron  Rothschild  in  1878.  (J.  A.  C.) 

METTERNICH,  Clemens  Wenzeslaus,  Pkince  (1773- 
■1859),  first  minister  of  Austria  from  1809  to  1848,  was 
the  son  of  a  Rhenish  nobleman  employed  in  high  office  by 
the  Austrian  court.  He  was  born  at  Coblentz  in  1773. 
'At  the  age  of  fifteen  he  entered  the  university  of  Strasburg. 
The  French  Revolution  was  then  beginning.     Everywhere 


the  spirit  of  hope  gave  to  men's  language  an  exaltation  and 
a  confidence  hardly  known  at  any  other  epoch.  But  the 
darker  reality  soon  came  into  view.  Mettersich  was  a 
witness  of  the  riot  in  which  the  town-hall  of  Strasburg  was 
pillaged  by  a  drunken  mob ;  his  tutor  subsequently  became 
a  member  of  the  revolutionary  tribunal  in  Alsace.  If  wb 
are  to  trust  to  Metternich's  own  account  of  the  formation 
of  his  opinions,  the  hatred  of  innovation,  which  was  the' 
ruling  principle  of  his  later  life,  arose  from  his  experience, 
of  the  terrible  results  which  followed  at  this  time  from  the 
victory  of  so-called  liberal  ideas.  But  in  reality  Mettemich 
was  an  aristocrat  and  a  conservative  by  birth  and  nature. 
His  sentiment  in  things  political  was  that  of  a  member  of 
a  refined  and  exclusive  society  which  trusts  to  no  intelli- 
gence but  its  own,  and  hardly  sympathizes  with  larger 
interests.  The  aggressions  and  violence  of  the  Revolution 
from  1789  to  1799  gave  Metlernich  ag  historical  basis  for 
his  political  theories,  but  the  instinctive  preferences  of  his 
own  mind  were  the  same  from  first  to  last.  He  began  life 
as  a  young  man  of  fashion  and  gallantry.  His  marriagd 
in  1795  with  the  Prii^cess  Kaunitz,  a  granddaughter  of  the 
famous  minister,  fixed  iiim  in  the  liighest  circle  of  Austrian' 
nobility.  His  first  contact  with  the  great  political  worli 
was  at  the  congress  of  Rastadt  in  1798,  where,  under  the 
auspices  of  the  victorious  French  republic,  arrangementsi 
vere  made  for  compensating  the  German  princes  and  nobles 
whose  possessions  on  the  left  bank  of  the  Rhine  had  been 
ceded  to  France  by  the  peace  of  Campo  Formio.  Metternich 
was  the  accredited  agent  of  a  group  of  Westphalian  nobles; 
his  private  letters  give  a  vivid  picture  of  the  rough  and 
uncourtly  diplomatists  who  had  succeeded  to  the  polished 
servants  of  the  old  French  monarchy.  In  1801  Mettemich 
was  appointed  Austrian  ambassador  at  Dresden,  and  m 
1803  he  was  promoted  to  Berlin;  but  he  had  hardly! 
become  as  yet  a  prominent  man  in  Europe.  His  stay  af| 
Berlin  was  the  turning-point  of  his  life.  The  war  of  thej 
third  coalition  was  impending.  Austria  united  with  England 
and  Russia  against  Napoleon,  and  the  task  of  the  youthful 
ambassador  was  to  win  over  the  court  of  Berlin  to  tho 
cause  of  the  allies.  Mettermch  seems  to  have  done  all 
that  it  was  possible  for  him  to  do ;  but  Prussia  persisted 
in  its  neutrality.  The  earnestness  with  which  Metternich 
had  worked  against  France  did .  not  prevent  him  from 
remaining  on  the  friendliest  terms  with  M.  Laforest,  the 
French  ambassador  at  Berlin ;  and  so  agreeable  an  account 
of  him  was  transmitted  to  Paris  by  his  rival  that,  at  the 
close  of  the  conflict.  Napoleon  himself  requested  that. 
Mettemich  might  henceforward  represent  Austria  at  the" 
Tuileries.  Mettemich  was  accordiugly  sent  to  Paris  in 
1806.  This  was  the  beginning  of  the  period  when  Austria, 
humbled  but  not  exhausted  by  the  blow  of  Austerlitz  and 
by  the  losses  accompanying  the  peace  of  Pressburg,  deter- 
mined, under  the  leadership  of  Count  Stadion,  to  prepare 
for  another  war  on  a  greater  scale.  But  the  sudden  over- 
throw of  Prussia,  and  the  alliance  between  France  and 
Russia  which  was  made  at  Tilsit  in  1807,  added  immeasur-| 
ably  to  the  diffic\dties  of  the  court  of  Vienna.  It  becamflt 
clear  that  Napoleon  was  intending  to  dismember  Tiurkey.i 
and  to  gain  for  himself  some  part  of  the  spoils  of  the  Otto- 
man empire.  Metternich's  advice  was  that  Austria  should 
endeavour  to  detach  the  czar  from  the  French  alliance,  and 
by  this  means  frustrate  the  plan  of  partition ;  but,  should 
Russia  hold  fast  to  Napoleon,  that  Austria  itself  should  unite 
with  the  two  aggressors,  and  secure  its  share  of  Turkey. 
Oriental  affairs,  however,  fell  into  the  backgroimd,  and| 
in  the  summer  of  1808  Mettemich  was  convinced  that: 
Napoleon  was  intending  to  attack  Austria,  though  not  im-j 
mediately.  He  warmly  supported  Count  Stadion's  policy 
in  raising  the  forces  of  Austria  to  the  hi^est  strength; 
and,  althon^  he  did  not  share  the  minister's  hopes  in  a 


200 


MET'i^ERNICH 


general  rising  throughout  Germany,  he  expressed  in  his 
despatches  no  distrust  of  the  power  of  Austria  to  cop<' 
with  Napoleon.  Tliis  is  the  more  singular  because, 
after  the  disastrous  issne  of  the  campaign  of  1809, 
Metternich  seems  to  have  taken  credit  for  having 
opposed  the  policy  of  war.  Napoleon  again  captured 
■Vienna ;  the  battle  of  Wagram  was  lost ;  and  after  a  long 
negotiation  Austria  had  to  purchase  peace  by  the  cession 
of  part  of  Austrian  Poland  and  of  its  tllyrian  provinces. 
Metternich,  who  had  virtually  taken  Count  Stadion's  place 
immediately  after  the  battle  of  Wagram,  was  now  installed 
as  minister  of  foreign  affairs.  The  first  striking  event 
that  took  place  under  his  administration  was  the  marriage 
of  Marie  Louise,  daughter  of  the  emperor  Francis,  to  his 
conqueror  Napoleon.  To  do  justice  to  Metternich's  policy 
it  must  be  remembered  that  the  alliance  of  Tilsit  between 
France  and  Russia  was  still  in  existence,  and  that  Austria 
was  quite  as  much  threatened  by  the  czar's  designs  upon 
Turkey  as  by  Napoleorfs  o^vn  aggressions.  Metternich 
himself  seems,  in  spite  of  his  denials,  to  have  been  the  real 
author  of  the  family  union  between  the  houses  of  Hapsburg 
and  Bonaparte, — a  most  politic,  if  not  a  high-spirited 
measure,  which  guaranteed  Austria  against  danger  from 
the  east,  at  the  same  time  that  it  gave  it  at  least  some 
prospect  of  security  from  attack  by  Napoleon,  and  enabled 
Metternich  to  mature  his  plans  for  the  contingency  of  an 
ultimate  breach  between  France  and  Russia.  In  1812  this 
event  occurred.  Metternich,  in  nominal  alliance  with  Napo- 
leon, sent  a  small  army  into  southern  Russia,  allowing  it  to 
be  understood  by  the  czar  that  the  attack  was  not  serious. 
Then  followed  the  annihilation  of  the  French  invaders. 
While  Prussia,  led  by  its  patriots,  declared  war  against 
Napoleon,  Metternich,  with  rare  and  provoking  coolness, 
held  his  hand,  merely  atating  that  Austria  would  no  longer 
regard  itself  as  a  subordinate  ally,  but  would  act  with  all  its 
force  on  one  side  or  the  other.  The  result  of  tliis  reserve 
was  that  Metternich  could  impose  what  terms  he  pleased  on 
Russia  and  Prussia  as  the  price  of  his  support.  The  armies 
of  these  two  powers,  advancing  into  central  Germany, 
proved  no  match  for  the  forces  with  which  Napoleon  took 
the  field  in  the  spring  of  1 8 1 3  ;  and  the  hard-fought  battles 
of  Liitzen  and  Bautzen  resulted  in  the  retreat  of  the  allies. 
After  the  combatants  had  made  an  armistice,  Met- 
ternich teudered  Austria's  armed  mediation,  reqiuring 
Prussia  to  content  itself  vnth  the  restoration  of  its  territory 
bast  of  the  Elbe,  and  leaving  Napoleon's  ascendency  in 
fclermany  almost  untouched.  Napoleon,  after  a  celebrated 
interview  with  Metternich,  madly  rejected  terms  so  favour- 
able that  every  Prussian  writer  has  denounced  Metternich's 
proposal  of  them  as  an  act  of  bitter  enmity  to  Prussia. 
On  the  night  of  the  1 0th  of  August  the  congress  of  Prague,  at 
which  Austria,  as  armed  mediator,  laid  down  conditions  of 
peace,  was  dissolved.  Metternich  himself  gave  orders  for 
the  lighting  of  the  watch-fires  which  signalled  to  the 
armies  in  Silesia  that  Austria  had  declared  war  against 
Napoleon.  The  battle  of  Leipsic  and  the  campaign  of 
1814  in  France  followed,  Metternich  steadily  pursuing  the 
policy  of  offering  the  most  favourable  terms  possible  to 
Napoleon,  and  retarding  the  advance  of  the  allied  armies 
upon  the  French  capital.  Metternich  had  nMhing  of  that 
personal  hatred  towards  the  great  conqueror  which  was 
dominant  both  in  Prussia  and  in  England  ;  on  the  contrary, 
though  he  saw  with  perfect  clearness  that,  until  Napoleon's 
resources  were  much  diminished,  no  one  could  be  safe  in 
Eiu-ope,  he  held  it  possible  to  keep  him  in  check  without 
destroying  him,  and  looked  for  the  security  of  Austria  in 
the  establishment  of  a  balance  of  power  in  which  neither 
Russia  nor  Franco  should  preponderate,  while  Prussia 
should  be  strictly  confined  within  its  own  limits  in  northern 
Germany.     The   assistance  of  the  Austrian  army,  which  j 


was  no  doubt  necessary  to  the  allies,  had,  so  far  as  related 
to  PriLssia,  been  dearly  purchased.  When,  at  the  beginning 
of  1813,  Prussia  struck  for  the  freedom  of  Germany,  its 
leading  statesmen  and  patriots  had  hoped  that  the  result 
of  the  war  of  liberation  would  be  the  establishment  of 
German  unity,  and  thit  the  minor  German  princes,  who 
had  been  Napoleon's  vassals  since  1806,  would  be  forced  to 
surrender  part  of  their  rights  as  sovereigns,  and  submit  to 
a  central  authority.  This  dream,  however,  vanished  as 
soon  as  Austria  entered  the  field  as  an  ally.  It  was  no 
part  of  Metternich's  policy  to  allow  anything  so  revolu- 
tionary as  Germen  Unity  to  be  established,  least  of  all 
under  the  influence  of  Prussian  innovators.  He  made 
treaties  with  the  king  of  Bavaria  and  Napoleon's  other 
German  vassals,  guaranteeing  them,  in  return  for  their 
support  against  France,  seimrate  independence  and  sove- 
reignty when  Germany  should  be  reconstructed.  Accord- 
ingly, though  the  war  resulted,  through  Napoleon's 
obstinate  refusal  of  the  terms  successively  offered  to  him, 
in  the  limitation  of  France  to  its  eai'lier  boundaries  and  in  a 
large  extension  of  Prussia's  territory,  the  settlement  »[ 
Germany  outside  Prussia  proceeded  upon  the  LLnts  laid 
down  by  Sletternich,  and  the  hopes  of  unity  raised  in 
1813  were  disappointed.  A  German  confederation  was 
formed,  in  which  the  minor  sovereigTis  retained  supreme 
power  within  their  own  states,  while  the  central  authority, 
the  federal  diet,  represented,  not  the  German  nation,  but 
the  host  of  governments  under  which  the  nation  was 
divided.  Metternich  even  ad\'ised  the  emperor  Francis  of 
Austria  to  decline  the  old  title  of  German  emperor,  dis- 
liking any  open  embodiment  of  the  idea  of  German  unity, 
and  preferring  to  maintain  the  ascendency  of  Austria  by 
a  gentle  pressure  at  the  minor  courts  rather  than  by  the 
avowed  exercise  of  imperial  rights.  In  this  unprogressive 
German  policy  Metternich  was  completely  successful. 
His  great  opponent.  Stein,  the  champion  of  German  unity 
and  of  constitutional  systems,  abandoned  his  work  in 
despair,  and  refused  the  useless  post  of  president  of  the 
diet,  which  Metternich,  with  a  kind  of  gentle  irony,  offered 
to  him. 

The  second  branch  of  Mettemicli's  policy  in  181 3-1  i 
was  that  which  related  to  Italy.  Following  the  old  maxims 
of  Austrian  statesmanship,  Metternich  aimed  not  only  at 
securing  a  large  territory  beyond  the  Alps  trnt  at  making 
the  influence  of  Austria  predominant  throughout  the  Italian 
peninsula.  The  promises  of  national  indejiendence  which 
had  been  made  to  the  Italians  when  they  were  called 'upon 
to  rise  against  Napoleon  were  disregarded.  In  the  secret 
clauses  of  the  first  treaty  of  Paris  the  annc.<ation  of  both 
Lombardy  and  Venetia  was  guaranteed  to  Austria,  and  the 
rest  of  Italy  was  divided  into  small  states  as  of  old. 
Napoleon's  return  from  Elba  led  to  the  downfall  ofMurat, 
who  had  been  allowed  to  retain  the  kingdom  of  Nai>lcs,  and 
to  the  reunion  of  this  coimtry  with  Sicily,  under  the  Bourbon 
Ferdinand.  After  the  second  overthrow  of  Napoleon, 
Metternich  endeavom-ed  to  make  every  Italian  sovereign 
enter  into  a  league  under  Austria's  jiresidency.  Ferdinand 
of  Naples  accepted  the  jiosition  of  vassal,  but  the  pope  and 
the  king  of  Sardinia  successfully  maintained  their  inde- 
pendence. With  the  construction  of  the  German  federation, 
and  the  partial  construction  of  an  Italian  federation,  both 
under  Austria's  guidance,  the  first  pait  of  Metternich's 
career  closes.  Ho  had  guarded  Austria's  interests  with 
great  skill  during  the  crisis  of  1813  and  1811.  It  was  not 
his  own  fault,  but  the  faiJt  of  ages,  that  Austria's  interests 
were  in  antagonism  to  those  of  German  and  of  Italian 
nationality.  Ho  thought  as  an  Austrian,  and  as  nothing 
else  ;  his  task  was  to  servo  the  house  of  Hapsburg,  and  this 
ho  did  with  signal  ability  and  success.  To  denounce 
Metternich  as  a  kind  of  criminal,  according  to  the  practice 


M  E  T  T  E  R  N  1  C  H 


201 


of  Pnissian  writers,  because  he  did  not  work  for  German 
unity,  is  to  ignore  the  existence  of  such  a  thing  as  state- 
poUcy.  Judged  by  the  ordinary  standards  of  practical 
statesmanship,  not  by  the  philosophy  of  history, 
Metternich's  action  in  1813  and  1814  was  that  of  a  very 
superior  man  ;  and  the  qualities  of  calmness  and  dexterity 
whicli  he  displayed  would  have  given  an  infinitely  greater 
effectiveness  to  the  life  of  his  great  rival  Stein,  who  in 
patriotic  and  moral  enthusiasm  was  so  far  above  him. 

The  second  part  of  Metternich's  career,  which  extends 
from  1815  to  1848,  is  that  of  a  leader  of  European  conser- 
vatism. It  is  difficxUt  to  describe  his  attitude  towards 
almost  all  the  great  questions  which  were  now  arising 
as  any  but  one  of  absolute  blindness  and  infatuation. 
He  acknowledged  that  exceptional  circumstances  in  the 
past  had  made  it  possible  for  England  to  exist  under  a 
constitution ;  he  knew  that  France  would  not  surrender 
the  Charia  given  to  it  by  King  Louis  XVIII.;  but  in  all 
other  great  states  he  maintained  that  there  were  no  alter- 
natives but  absolute  monarchical  government  and  moral 
anarchy.  His  denunciations  of  liberals  and  reformers 
everywhere  and  at  all  times  are  perfectly  childish  ;  and  in 
many  instances  his  hatred  of  change  led  him  into  errors 
of  judgment  not  surpassed  in  the  annals  of  political 
folly.  When  Napoleon  fell,  there  was  a  prospect  of  the 
introduction  of  constitutional  government  tliroughout  a 
great  part  of  Eui'ope.  King  Frederick  William,  stimulat- 
ing the  efforts  of  tlie  Prussian  people  against  France  by  the 
hopes  of  liberty,  had  definitely  promised  them  a  constitu- 
tion and  a  general  assembly.  The  czar  had  determined  to 
introduce  parliamentary  life  into  the  kingdom  of  Px>!and, 
and  even  hoped  to  extend  it,  after  some  interval,  to  Kussia. 
The  Federal  Act  drawn  up  for  Germany  at  tlie  congress  of 
Vienna  declared  that  in  every  state  within  the  German 
league  a  constitution  should  be  established.  Against  this 
liberal  movement  of  the  age  Metternich  resolutely  set  his 
face.  Though  wide  general  causes  were  at  work,  the 
personal  influence  of  the  Austrian  statesman  had  no  small 
share  in  prolonging  the  existence  of  autocratic  government, 
and  in  developing  that  antagonism  between  the  peoples 
and  their  rulers  which  culminated  in  the  revolutions  of 
1848.  The  nature  of  the  Austrian  state,  composed  of  so 
many  heterogeneous  provinces  and  nationalities,  no  doubt 
made  it  natural  for  its  representative  to  defend  and  exalt 
the  i)rinciple  of  personal  sovereignty,  on  which  alone  the 
■unity  of  Austria  was  based  ;  the  relation  of  Austria  to  Italy 
rendered  the  growth  of  the  sentiment  of  nationality  a  real 
source  of  danger  to  the  house  of  Hapsburg  ;  but  Metternich's 
abhorrence  of  constitutional  and  popular  ideas  was  more 
than  the  outcome  of  a  calculating  policy.  He  was  not  a 
man  of  much  faith,  but  one  belief  he  held  with  all  the  force 
of  religious  conviction, — namely,  the  belief  that  his  own 
task  and  mission  in  the  world  was  to  uphold  established 
authority.  All  efforts  to  alter  the  form  or  to  broaden  the 
basis  of  government  he  cla.ssed  under  the  same  head,  as 
■works  of  the  spirit  of  revolution ;  and  in  one  of  his  most 
earnest  writings  he  places  side  by  side,  as  instances  of  evil 
sought  for  its  o\vn  sake,  the  action  of  the  secret  societies 
in  Germany,  tho  Carbonaria  of  Italy,  and  the  attempts  of 
the  English  to  carry  the  Reform  Bill.  Working  on  prin- 
ciples like  these,  and  without  the  shadow  of  a  doubt  in 
his'own  wisdom,  Bletternich  naturally  proved  a  great  power 
at  a  time  when  the  sovereigns  who  had  inclined  to  constitu- 
tional id?as  began  to  feel  the  difficulties  in  the  way  of 
putting  them  into  practice.  Metternich's  advice,  tendered 
with  every  grace  of  manner  and  with  the  most  winning 
and  persuasive  art,  was  indeed  not  hard  for  rulers  to  accept, 
for  he  simply  recommended  them  to  give  up  nothing  that 
they  had  got.  It  was  at  the  congress  of  Aix-la-Chapelle 
(JSlSjLthatJhe  retrograde  tendency,  which  was  now  suc- 


ceeding to  the  hopes  of  1815,  first  gained  expression.  An 
agitation  among  the  students  at  the  German  universities  had 
caused  some  scandal  in  the  previous  year,  and  secret  societies 
had  just  been  discovered  in  Russia.  Metternich  plied  the 
king  of  Prussia  with  arguments  for  withholding  the  national 
representation  which  he  had  promised  to  his  people,  and 
stimulated  the  misgivings  which  were  arising  in  tho  mind 
of  the  czar,  hitherto  the  champion  of  European  liberalism. 
A  few  months  later  the  murder  of  Alexander's  German 
agent,  Kotzebue,  by  a  fanatical  student  gave  Metternich  an 
excellent  pretext  for  organizing  a  crusade  against  German 
liberty.  A  conference  of  ministers  was  hold  at  Carlsbad. 
The  king  of  Prussia  allowed  his  representative  to  follow 
Metternich's  lead.  The  resistance  of  Ihe  constitutional 
minor  states  proved  of  no  avail ;  and  a  series  of  resolutions 
was  passed  which  made  an  end  of  the  freedom  of  tlic  press 
throughout  Germany,  and  subjected  the  teaching  and  tho 
discipline  of  the  universities  to  officers  of  state.  A  commis- 
sion was  established  at  Mainz  to  investigate  tho  conspiracies 
which  Metternich  alleged  to  have  been  formed  for  the  over; 
throw  of  all  existing  governments,  and  for  thccrcation  of  a 
German  republic,  one  and  indivisible  In  the  following  year 
new  articles  were  added  by  Metternich's  direction  to  the 
original  Federal  Act,  the  most  important  being  one  that 
forbade  the  creation  in  any  German  state  of  an  assembly, 
representing  the  community  at  large,  and  enforced  the 
system  of  representation  by  separate  estates  or  orders,  each 
possessed  of  certain  limited  definite  rights,  and  all  alike 
subordinate  to  the  supremacy  of  the  crown.  Metternich 
would  gladly  have  made  an  end  of  the  parliamentary  con- 
stitutious  which  had  already  come  into  being  in  Bavaria  and 
tlie  southern  states ;  but  he  was  unable  to  attack  flicm 
openly,  and  had  to  confine  himself  to  the  advocacy  ^of 
strict  monarchical  principles  through  his  representatives  at 
these  courts.  With  regard  to  Prussia,  however,  lie  ^vas 
completely  successful.  Tho  king  of  Prussia  broke  Iii-> 
promise  of  establishing  a  national  re]>resentation,  and 
satisfied  his  conscience  by  creating  certain  powerless  pro- 
vincial diets,  exactly  as  Metternich  had  recommended  Kim. 
Throughout  Germany  at  large  a  .system  of  re|ircssioii  was 
carried  out  against  the  advocates  of  constitutional  right 
The  press  was  silenced  ;  societies  were  dissolved  ;  prosecu- 
tions became  more  and  more  common.  AVhile  Jlellcrnich 
imagined  himself  to  be  stifling  the  spirit  of  discontent,  he 
was  in  fact  driving  it  into  more  secret  and  more  violent 
courses,  and  convincing  eager  men  that  tho  regencralion 
of  Germany  must  be  sought  not  in  the  reform  but  in  tllb! 
overthrow  of  governments. 

Meanwhile  revolution  broke  out  in  Spain  and  llnly: 
Ferdinand  of  Spain,  who  had  restored  despotism,  w;is  (•(im- 
pelled, in  March  1820,  to  accept  the  constitution  of  \V-\'l 
which  he  had  subverted.  Tlie  same  constitution  was 
accepted  a  few  months  later  by  Ferdinand  of  N'aplc.< 
Spain  was  outside  Metternich's  range,  but  his  hand  fell 
heavily  upon  Naples.  A  congress  of  the  great  powcn  was 
held  at  Troppau  in  October  1820.  Metternich,  who  wa.s 
president,  as  he  had  been  at  Vienna,  and  continued  to  be  in 
later  congresses,  comiiietely  won  over  the  czar  to  his  own 
views.  Resolutions  in  favour  of  an  intervention,  if  neci-s- 
sary  by  force  of  arms,  against  the  Neapolitan  liberal  (.'ovcrn- 
nienf  were  adopted  by  Austria,  Russia,  and  Prussia,  llioiigli 
England  and  France  held  aloof.  The  congress  wns  then 
adjourned  to  Laibach  in  Carniola,  whither  Ferdinand  ofj 
Naples  was  summoned,  in  order  that  ho  might  ninliato 
between  the  powers  and  his  people,  and  induce  the  latter 
to  give  up  a  constitution  which  offended  the  three  n'  rtliern 
courts.  Ferdinand's  journey  and  mediation  were  an  iuipo^ 
ture  as  regarded  the  Neapolitans;  he  pretended  that  Iio 
went  to  negotiate  on  behalf  of  his  jjcople,  when  in  fact  his 
intention  was  exactly  the  same  as  Metternich's,  namely,  tu 
J<Vt    _  06 


202 


M  E  T  — M  E  T 


have  absolute  monarchy  restored.  The  proceedings  of 
the  congress  at  Laibach  were  a  farce.  A  letter  was 
concocted  by  Metternich  for  King  Ferdinand  to  send  to 
his  subjects,  informing  them  that  the  powers  would  not 
permit  the  constitution  to  exist,  and  that,  in  default  of 
their  submission,  the  allied  courts  would  employ  force. 
The  British  Government,  while  protesting  against  the  joint 
action  of  the  three  powers  as  an  assumption  of  international 
-sovereignty,  was  perfectly  willing  that  Austria',  as  a  state 
endangered  by  the  Neapolitan  revolution,  should  act  on 
its  own  account.  Metternich,  however,  continued  to  treat 
the  Neapolitan  question  as  the  affair  of  Europe,  and 
maintained  his  concert  with  Russia  and  Prussia.  Early 
in  1821  an  Austrian  force,  acting  in  the  name  of  the  allies, 
entered  central  Italy.  The  armies  opposed  to  it  col- 
lapsed, and  the  Austrians  entered  Naples  on  March  24. 
But  in  the  meantime  a  revolution  broke  out  in  Pied- 
mont, which  threatened  to  cut  off  the  Austrians  from 
their  sujiports,  and  to  raise  all  Italy  against  them.  For  a 
moment  the  bold  action  of  Jletternich  seemed  to  have 
resulted  in  immense  danger  both  to  his  own  conservative 
policy  and  t&  the  peace  of  Europe ;  for  it  was  believed  that 
the  Piedmontese  revolution  would  be' answered,  not  only 
by  a  general  Italian  movement,  but  by  a  rising  against 
the  Bourbons  in  France.  The  cloud,  however,  passed  away. 
Order  was  quickly  restored  in  Piedmont ;  Lombardy  was 
safely  held  by  Austrian  garrisons ;  and  the  conclusion  of 
the  Italian  difficulties,  in  which  Metternich  had  played  a 
very  difficult  part  with  great  resolution  and  dexterity,  was 
his  complete  and  brilliant  personal  triumph.  No  statesman 
in  Euro|ie  at  this  moment  held  a  position  that  could  com- 
pare with  his  own. 

At  the  congress  of  Verona,  held  in  1822,  the  affairs  of 
Spain  were  considered  by  the  powers.  In  the  end,  the 
Spanish  constitution  was  overthrown  by  a  French  invading 
army ;  but,  though  the  arm  employed  was  that  of  France, 
the  principle  of  absolutism  which  animated  the  crusade 
was  that  which  Metternich  had  made  hLs  own.  A  severe 
theck,  however,  now  met  him  in  another  quarter.  Greece 
had  risen  against  Turkish  rule  in  1821.  The  movement 
was  essentially  a  national  and  a  religious  one,  but  Metternich 
treated  it  as  a  Jacobinical  revolt  against  lawful  authority, 
— confusing,  or  affecting  to  confuse,  the  struggle  for  national 
independence  with  the  shallow  and  abortive  efforts  of  politi- 
cal liberalism  in  Italy  and  Spain.  Metternich's  attitude 
towards  the  Greeks  was  for  some  time  one  of  unqualified 
hostility.  If,  under  the  pressure  of  the  Tilsit  alliance,  he 
had  once  been  willing  that  Austria  should  join  Russia  in 
dismembering  Turkey,  he  had  now  reverted  to  the  principle 
of  maintaining  Turkey  at  all  costs  against  a  Russian 
advance  southwards;  and  he  attributed  the  Greek  move- 
ment to  the  efforts  of  Russian  agitators  unauthorized  by 
tlie  czar,  Tlis  desire  was  that  the  sultan  should  deprive 
Russia  of  all  i)0ssible  cause  for  complaint  as  regarded  its 
own  separate  interests,  and  so  gain  freedom  to  deal  sum- 
marily witli  the  Greeks.  Metternich's  hopes  failed,  partly 
through  the  obstinacy  of  the  Turks,  partly  through  the 
waverijig  conduct  of  Alexander,  and  partly  through  the 
death  of  C'astlereagh  and  the  accession  of  Canning  to 
power.  It  was  in  great  part  owing  to  Canning's  moral 
support  that  Greece  ultimately  becarne  an  independent 
state ;  and  the  e.vtraordinary  violence  of  Metternich's 
language  whenever  he  mentions  this  English  statesman 
marks  only  too  well  the  opposite  character  of  his  aims. 
No  politician  has  left  a  more  damning  record  against 
him.self  than  Metternich  in  his  bigoted  abuse  of  Canning. 
'Die  Clock  question,  however,  was  only  the  first  on  which 
the  judgment  of  events  was  now  beginning  to  declare  itself 
against  Metternich  and  all  his  princiijlcs.  The  French 
revolution  of  1830   shattered  the  moral  fabric  which  hu 


had  so  proudly  inaugurated,  and  in  great  part  himself 
raised,  in  1815.  The  accord  that  grew  up  between 
England  and  France  now  made  any  revival  of  the 
kind  of  presidency  that  he  had  once  held  in  Europe 
impossible.  He  was  indeed  bold  and  rapid  in  throw- 
ing troops  into  the  papal  territory  when  revolutionary 
movements  broke  out  there  in  1831  and  1832,  though  war 
with  France  seemed  likely  to  result  from  this  step.  He 
was  as  un.sparing  as  he  had  been  in  1819  in  suppressing  the 
agitation  which  after  1830  spread  from  France  to  Germany; 
and  the  union  of  the  three  eastern  courts  wa.s  once  more 
exhibited  in  the  meeting  of  the  monarchs  which  took  place 
at  Miinchcngr'itz  in  1833,  and  in  a  declaration  delivered  at 
Paris,  insisting  on  their  right  of  intervention  against 
revolution  in  other  countries.  It  was,  however,  the  new 
czar  of  Russia,  Nicholas,  who  was  now  the  real  head  of 
European  conservatism ;  and  the  stubborn  character,  the 
narrow,  unimaginative  mind,  of  this  prince  made  it 
impossible  for  Metternich  to  shape  his  purposes  by  that 
delicate  touch  which  had  been  so  effective  with  his  pre- 
decessor. But  in  Austria  itself  Metternich  continued 
without  a.  rival.  In  1835  the  emperor  Francis,  with 
whom  he  had  worked  for  nearly  thirty  years,  died. 
Metternich,  himself  falling  into  the  mental  habits  of  old 
age,  remained  at  the  head  of  the  state  till  1848.  The 
revolution  of  that  year  ended  his  political  career.  He 
resigned  office  with  the  dignity  of  demeanour  which  had 
n?ver  failed  him ;  his  life  was  scarcely  safe  in  Vienna,  and 
the  old  man  came  for  a  while  to  England,  which  he  had 
not  visi'  d  since  1794.  Living  on  till  June  1859,  he  saw 
every  f^-'eat  figure  of  his  earlier  life,  and  many  that  had  ap- 
peared on  the  horizon  since  his  own  prime,  pass  away;  and 
a  few  more  months  of  life  would  have  enabled  him  to  see 
the  end  of  that  political  order  which  it  had  been  his  bfe- 
work  to  uphold  ;  for  the  army  of  Napoleon  lU.  was  crossing 
the  Sardinian  frontier  at  the  moment  when  be  died,  and 
before  a  second  sum.mer  had  gone  Victor  Emmanuel  had 
been  proclaimed  king  of  Italy. 

Metternich  was  a  diplomatist  rather  than  a  statesman. 
His  influence  was  that  of  an  expert  manager  of  individuals, 
not  of  a  man  of  great  ideas.  All  his  greatest  work  was 
done  before  fifty  ;  and  at  an  age  when  most  statesmen  are 
in  the  maturity  of  their  powers  he  had  become  tedious 
and  pedantic.  His  private  character  was  very  lovable. 
He  was  an  affectionate  if  not  a  faithful  husband,  a 
delightful  friend,  and  a  most  tender  father.  The  ex- 
cessive egotism  which  runs  through  his  writings  gives 
perhaps  an  impression  of  weakness  which  did  not  really 
belong  to  his  nature.  Drawn  by  a  firmer  pen,  the  scene 
in  which  he  describes  himself  labouring  in  the  German 
conferences  of  1820,  while  his  favourite  daughter  was  dying 
in  an  adjoining  room,  would  have  been  one  of  the  most 
affecting  things  in  political  biography.  The  man  who 
could  so  have  worked  and  felt  together  must  have  pcssessed 
no  ordinary  strength  of  character,  no  common  force  of  self- 
control. 

The  collection  of  Metternich's  writings  published  by  his  family 
under  the  title  of  Dcnktoiirdigkciieii,  along  with  French  and. 
English  editions,  contains  letters  and  despatches  of  great  value. 
The  autobiography  isnot  always  trustworthy,  and  must  be  read  with 
caution.  Gentz's  correspondence  is  of  first-rate  importance  for  the 
years  1813-30.  Original  papers  are  also  contained  in  varioua 
German  works  upon  particular  events  or  movements,  as  in 
Oncken  for  tlie  negotiations  of  1813  ;  Welcker,  Acgidi,  Nauwcrck 
for  German  affairs  in  1819  and  following  years  ;  Prokesch  von 
Osten  for  Eastern  affairs.  (C.A.  F.) 

METZ,  the  capital  of  German  Lorraine,  and  one  of  the 
strongest  fortresses  in  Europe,  is  situated  at  the  confluenco 
of  the  Moselle  and  the  SeiUo,  80  miles  to  the  north-west 
of  Strasburg,  and  190  miles  to  the  cast  of  Paris.  It  is 
the  seat  of  a  military  governor,  the  judicial  and  administra- 
tive authorities  uf   Lorraine,  a  Roman   Catholic   bishop, 


M  E  T  Z 


203 


Protestant  and'  Jewish  consistories,  and  a  chamber  of  com- 
merce. The  general  appearance  of  the  town  is  quaint  and 
irregular,  but  there  are  aJso  many  handsome  modem  streets. 
The  Moselle  flows  through  it  in  several  arms,  crossed  by 
fourteen  or  fifteen  bridges.  In  the  south-west  comer  of 
the  town  is  the  esplanade,  an  extensive  open  space  com- 
manding a  fine  view  of  the  fertile  "  Pays  Messin  "  around 
Metz.  The  most  interesting  of  the  ten  city  gates  is  the 
Porte  d'Allemagne  or  Deutsches  Thor,  a  castellated  structure 
arected  in  1445,  and  still  bearing  traces  of  the  siege  of 
Charles  V.    Metz  contains  seven  Roman  Catholic  churches. 


two  Protestant  churches,  aud  a  synagogue.  The  cathedral, 
vrith  huge  pointed  ^\-indows,  slender  columns,  aud  numerous 
Hying  buttresses,  was  begun  in  the  lUth  cciitur)-,  and 
finished  in  154G,  and  belongs  to  the  decadence  of  the 
Gothic  style.  The  Giothic  churches  of  St  Vincent  aud  St 
Eucharius,  and  the  handsome  garrison-church,  completed 
in  1881,  also  deserve  mention.  Among  secular  buildings 
the  most  important  are  the  large  covered  market,  the 
town-hall,  the  palace  of  justice,  the  theatre,  the  governor's 
house,  and  the  various  buildings  for  military  purposes. 
The  public  library  contains  35,000  volumes,  including  an 


1.  Palace  of  Jtutlce. 


Metz  aDd  Nei^hboarhood. 
9.  Prefecture.  d.  CathedraL  4.  Town-HaQ  and  GoTeraor*s  Hoiue. 


extensive  collection  of  works  relating  to  the  history  of 
Lorraine.  In  the  same  building  is  the  museum,  which 
contains  a  picture  gallery,  a  numismatic  cabinet,  and  a 
collection  of  specimens  of  natural  history.  Metz  also 
possesses  several  learned  societies  and  charitable  institu- 
tions, a  gymnasium,  three  sominaries,  and  a  military 
academy.  The  cemetery  of  Chambifere  contains  the  graves 
of  8400  French  soldiers  who  died  here  in  1870. 

The  commerce  and  industry  of  Metz  have  not  yet 
entirely  recovered  from  the  blow  inflicted  by  the  with- 
drawal of  French  capital  in  1871.  The  principal  articles 
nX  manufacture  are  leather,  coarse  cloth  and  canvas,  gun- 


powder, arms,  needles,  billiard  tables,  hats,  and  artificial 
flowers.  There  are  several  large  iron-Vorks  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood. The  trade  of  Metz  is  chiefly  carried  on  in 
leather,  timber,  wine,  brandy,  liqueurs,  beer,  preserved 
fruits,  and  hardwares.  A  large  annual  fair  is  held  here. 
The  civil  population  of  Metz,  which,  in  1869  amounted 
to  48,066,  sank  in  1872  to  33,134.  Since  then  it  has 
steadily  increased,  and  in  1881  was  43,275,  about  half 
of  whom  were  Germans.  The  garrison  of  Metz  consists 
of  10,000  men,  or  including  the  surrounding  forta 
nearly  16,000.  The  total  of  58,813  includes  17,000  Pro- 
teatanta  and  1600  Jews. 


204 


M  E  U  — M  E  U 


Sislory.—lUU,  the  Gallic  DivoJurOra,  was  the  chief  town  of  the 
Mcdioniatrici,  and  ivas  also  called  by  the  Romaus  Medioniatrica,  a 
D.imc  fiom  which  the  present  form  has  been  derived  by  contraction. 
Ciesar  describes  it  as  one  of  the  oldest  and  mo-t  important  towns 
in  Gaul.  The  Romans,  recogni2ing  its  strategical  impwtance, 
fortified  it  and  sujiplied  it  with  water  by  an  imposing  aqueduct, 
the  remains  of  which  still  exist.  Under  the  Roman  emperors  Metz 
was  connected  by  military  roads  with  Toul,  Langrcs,  Lyons,  Stras- 
bucg,  VtrJun,  Khcims,  and  Treves.  Christianity  was  introduced 
in  the  3d  century  of  our  era.  In  the  middle  of  the  .'ith  century 
t.'ie  town  was  plundered  by  the  Huns  uuder  Attila  ;  subsequently 
it  came  into  the  possession  of  the  Franks  ;  and  in  512  it  was  made 
the  cajjital  of  Austrasia.  On  the  partition  of  the  Carolingian 
realms  in  843  Jletz  fell  to  the  share  of  the  western  kingdom  as 
the  capital  of  Lorraine.  Its  bishops,  whose  creation  reaches  back  to 
the  4lh  century,  now  began  to  be  very  powerful.  Metz  acquired 
the  privileges  of  a  free  imperial  town  in  the  12th  century,  and 
attained  great  commercial  prosperity.  In  1552  it  fell  into  the 
hands  of  the  French  through  treachery,  and  was  heroically  and 
successfully  defended  against  Charles  V.  by  the  young  duke  of 
Guise.  It  now  saiik  to  the  level  of  a  French  provincial  town,  and 
its  population  dwindled  from  60,000  to  22,000  (169S).  At  the 
l.eace  oi  Westphalia  Metz,  with  Tool  and  Verdun,  was  formally 
ceded  to  France,  in  whose  possession  it  remained  for  upwards  of 
two  centuries.  In  August  1870  the  successes  of  the  German  troops 
compelled  Marshal  Bazaine  and  the  French  army  of  the  Rhine 
to  seek  shelter  behind  the  fortifications  of  Metz,  which  was  forth- 
with subjected  by  the  Germans  to  a  -rigorous  blockade.  After  an 
investment  of  ten  weeks,  during  which  not  a  single  shot  was  fired  at 
tho  town,  Bazaine  capitulated,  surrendering  to  the  victors  an  army 
of  nearly  180,000  men,  several  hundred  cannon,  and  an  immense 
quantity  of  military  stores  of  all  kinds.  By  the  peace  of  Frankfort 
in  1871  Metz  was  again  united  to  the  German  empire.  Marshal 
Fabert  and  Generals  Custine  and  Kellermann  were  natives  of  Metz. 

As  a  fortress  Metz  has  always  been  of  the  highest  importance, 
and  it  now  ranks  with  Strasburg  as  one  of  the  two  great  bulwarks 
of  the  west  frontier  of  Germany.  The  original  town-walls  were 
rc()laccd  by  ramparts  in  1550,  and  the  citadel  was  built  in  1566.  In 
1674  the  works  were  reconstructed  by  the  celebrated  military 
engineer  Vauban.  Under  Napoleon  111.  the  fortress  was  strength- 
ened to  meet  the  demands  of  modern  warfare,  and  since  1871  the 
Germans  have  spared  neither  time  nor  money  ic^  completing  and 
supplementing  his  plans.  The  present  fortifications  of  Metz  con- 
sist of  two  lines — an  inner  circle  of  bastions  and  ramparts  enclosing 
the  city  itself,  and  an  outer  circle  of  large  detached  forts  on  the 
surrounding  hills.  The  inner  line  is  strengthened  by  two  citadels, 
one  of  which  is  advanced  as  a  tete-de-pont  on  the  leit  bank  of  the 
Moselle.  The  outer  circle  consists  of  nine  or  ten  large  forts,  con- 
nected with  each  other  by  smaller  fortifications  and  commanding 
all  the  approaches  to  the  city.  They  form  a  large  fortified  camp 
with  a  circumference  of  15  miles,  within  which  are  twelve  villages 
and  numerous  country-houses  and  farms.  The  most  distant  of 
the  outlying'  forts  is  about  3^  miles  from  the  cathedral.  Their 
nani'^s  and  positions  may  be  seen  on  the  annexed  plan.  Previous 
to  1870  the  fortress  of  Metz  had  never  succumbed  to  an  enemy, 
k  Sourcs  0/ /n/orma(ion.— Westphal,  Qeschichte  der  SCudt  ifett,  1875-78  ;  Gcorg 
Lang,  ifrt!  tind  seine  Uiitgebungen,  1883,  and  Stati&litch-topographisches  Band- 
iuch  fur  Lolhrinften.  The  official  Gentian  accountof  the  blockade.of  MetzHn  1870 
will  be  (ouiiil  in  tho  history  of  tlie  Franco-German  war  issued  b.v  tlie  general 
staff  at  Ueiiin.  1872  sq.  A  succinct  account  is  given  by  Georg  Lang,  Die  Kriegs- 
opcralionen  urn  Ifeti  im  Jahr  1870,  2d  ed.,  Metz,  1880. 

MEULEN,  Antony  Francis  van  dek  (1634-1690), 
was  called  to  Paris  about  1666  by  Colbert,  at  the  instance 
of  Le  Brun,  to  fill  the  post  of  battle  painter  to  Louis  XIV. 
Born  in  1634  at  Brussels,  he  had  at  an  early  age  eclipsed 
his  master  Peter  Snayers,  and  the  works  executed  'by  him 
for  the  king  of  France  during  the  campaigns  of  Flanders 
(1667)  so  delighted  Louis  that  from  that  date  Van  der 
Meulen  was  ordered  to  accompany  him  in  all  his  expedi- 
tions. In  1673  he  was  received  into  the  French  Academy, 
and  attained  the  grade  of  councillor  in  1681.  Lodged  in 
the  Gobelins,  richly  pensiomed,  and  loaded  with  honours, 
he  died  at  Paris  in  1690.  Detached  works  from  his  hand 
are  to  be  seen  in  various  collcctious,  but  he  is  best  repre- 
sented by  the  series  of  twenty-three  paintings,  mostly 
executed  for  Louis  XIV.,  now  in  the  Louvre.  They  ihow 
that  he  always  retained  his  Flemish  predilections  in 
point  of  colour,  although  in  other  respects  his  stylo  was 
modified  by  that  of  the  French  school. 

Sea  Mim.  ii\idit.  Acad,  de  Peinture.  1854  ;  Descamps,  Via  des 
Peintres  Flamands. 

MEURTHE-ET-MOSELLE,  a  department  in  the  north- 
east of  France  formed  in  1871  out  of  those  parts  of  the 


old  ile|iartments  of  Meurthe  and  Moselle  which  continued 
French,  and  deriving  its  name  from  the  two  principal  rivers 
which  water  it.  Prior  to  1790  it  belonged  to  ancient 
Lorraine,  or  to  one  or  other  of  the  bishoprics  of  Toul,  Metz, 
and- Verdun.  It  lies  between  5°  25'  and  7°  5'  E.  long, 
and  48°  25'  and  49°  5'  N.  lat.,  and  is  bounded  on  the  E. 
by  Alsace-Lorraine,  on  the  N.  by  Belgium  and  the  grand- 
duchy  of  Luxemburg,  on  the  W.  by  the  department  of 
Meuse,  and  on  the  S.  by  that  of  Vosges.  The  superficial 
a>3a  is  2020  square  miles.  Geologically  Meurthe-et- 
Moselle  has  five  well-marked  regions  following  each  other  in 
regular  succession  from  east  to  north-west.  On  the  frontier 
of  Alsace  are  the  Vosges  mountains,  of  Trias  sandstone 
((/res  Vosgiemi),  with  a  maximum  elevation  of  3000  feek 
A  narrow  band  of  variegated  sandstone  tlivides  the  Vosges 
from  the  second  region,  formed  of  ;-helly  limestone,  which 
extends  as  far  as  the  Mem-the  on  the  north  and  the  Moselle 
on  the  west.  The  third  region  is  formed  by  the  variegated 
marls  which  cover  the  rich  saline  strata  of  the  neighbour- 
hood of  Nancy.  The  Jura  limestones  of  the  Lias  and 
OoUte,  to  the  north-west  and  west  of  the  department,  form 
the  last  two  regions.  Here  there  is  a  maximum  elevation 
of  1 400  feet,  and  the  plateau  of  Briey  stretches  out  towards 
that  of  the  Ardennes.  Between  the  Vo.=pes  and  the 
Ardennes  the  vaUey  of  the  Moselle  run.s  from  south  to 
north,  forming  the  main  artery  of  the  department;  tha 
lowest  level  (370  feet)  occurs  where  the  river  leaves  it. 
Only  a  small  part  of  the  drainage  of  Meurthe-^t-Moselle 
flows  into  the  Meuse.  The  Moselle  runs  north-west  from 
its  entrance  into  the  department  as  far  as  Toul ;  north-east 
from  Toul  to  FrouarJ,  where  it  receives  its  principal 
affluent,  the  Meurthe,  and  becomes  navigable ;  north  from 
Frouard  to  Pagny-sur-MoseUe,  passing  to  Pont  k  Mousson. 
The  principal  affluents  of  the  Moselle  are  the  Madon  and 
the  Orne  on  the  left,  and  on  the  right,  besides  the  Meurthe, 
the  Seille,  which  in  one  part  of  its  course  forms  the 
boundary  of  Alsace-Lorraine.  The  Meurthe,  which  flows 
to  the  north-west  from  Eaou  I'litape  to  Frouard,  passes  on 
to  Baccarat,  Lun^ville,  St  Nicholas,  and  Nancy,  and  is 
swelled  on  the  right  by  the  Vezouse  and  the  Sanon,  and 
on  the  left  by  the  Mortagne.  The  principal  tributary  of 
the  Meuse  within  the  department  is  the  Chiers,  which  takes 
its  course  by  Longwy  and  Longuyon.  Chmatologically 
Meurthe-et-Moselle  belongs  to  the  Vosgian  region.  Its 
mean  annual  temperatm'e  is  52'  Fahr.,  being  2°  Fahr. 
lower  than  that  of  Paris  (which  has  the  same  latitude). 
The'  thermometer  in  severe  winters  falls  to  13°  Fahr., 
while  in  summer  it  reaches  100°  Fahr.  This  is  to  be 
accounted  for  by  the  general  elevation  of  the  department, 
the  proximity  of  the  mountains,  the  arrangement  of  the 
vaUeys  (which  he  open  towards  the  north),  and  the  dis- 
tance from  the  sea. 

More  than  half  of  tho  department  consists  of  culturable  land,  one- 
fourth  of  forests,  and  one-tenth  of  meadow  land.  In  1878  tlicre 
were  54,346  horses,  more  than  100,000  sheep,  85,000  pig.',  74,000 
caltle,  15,000  goats,  21,000  dogs,  and  17,000  hives  of  bees.  The 
crops  for  tho  same  year  araotmted  to  454,192  quarters  of  wheat, 
37,500  quarters  of  barley,  35,078  quarters  of  rye,  670,884  qnartcra 
of  oats,  9,079,125  bushels  of  pot.itJCs,  and  76.868  tons  of  beet-root. 
Hops,  tobacco,  colza,  hemp,  and  llax  also  occupy  a  considerable 
area.  The  annual  yield  of  the  vineyards  (56  SQuare  miles  in  exteot) 
exceeds  £900,000 ;  tho  wines  of  Toul  are  the  best  The  most 
common  fruit  trees  are  the  pear,  tho  apple,  the  walnut,  the  clierry, 
and  the  plum.  Of  forest  trees  the  oak  and  tho  wj'ch-elm  are  most 
frequent  in  the  west  of  the  department,  the  beech  and  the  fir  in 
the  Vosges.  Tho  French  school  of  forestry  has  its  seat  at  Nancy. 
The  metallurgic  industry  is  highly  developed,  and  has  made  vcrj- 
rapid  progress  within  the  last  few  years.  Even  in  1872  there 
was  a  consumption  of  350,000  tons  of  coal,  four-fifths  of  which 
came  from  Saarbruck,  and  tho  remaining  fifth  from  Belgium.  In 
1877  the  iron  ore  obtained  amounted  to  1,000,000  tons,  of  which 
two-thirds  came  from  tho  beds  near  Nancy,  tho  remainder  from 
the  neighbourhood  of  Longwy.  In  1S80  Die  department  produced 
a  thirdof  tho  pig-iron  made  in  France  (more  than  500.000  tonsl. 


M  E  U  — M  E  U 


205 


In  1877  the  yield  wm  43,000  tons.  Besides  blast-furnnces,  forges, 
and  rolling-mills,  there  are  manufactories  of  files  and  boring  tools, 
agricultural  implements,  and  furniture.  In  the  production  of  salt 
the  department  holds  the  first  rank  in  France  ;  the  salt-bearing 
tracts  cover  more  than  160  square  miles,  the  beds  having  a  mean 
thicknessof  65  feet.  The  principal  salt-workiiig  centres  (St  Nicolas, 
Varacgeville,  and  RosiJres-aux-Salines)  lie  between  Nancy  and 
Lun^ville  ;  the  annual  value  of  rock-salt  and  refined  salt  produced 
exceeds  £600,000;  subsidiary  to  this  production  is  an  important 
manufacture  of  soda  salts.  The  other  chemical  products  are 
prnssiate  of  potash,  bone-black,  wax-candles,  soap,  and  matches. 
Stone  quarrying  and  the  manufacture  of  plaster  and  lime  are  also 
important  branches  of  industry.  The  flint-glass  manufactory  of 
Baccarat,  which  employs  nearly  1600  workmen,  is  well  known  ; 
that  of  plate-glass  at  Cirey  (with  1000  woi-kmen)  produces  plates 
of  great  size.  The  faience  manufactories  of  Luniville,  Toul,  aud 
Loiigwy  are  important.  Mention  may  also  be  made  of  the 
manufacture  of  window-glass,  watch-glasses,  and  drinkiug-glasses. 
The  tobacco  manufacture  at  Nancy  employs  1000  workmen ;  tan- 
ning, glove-making,  hat-making  in  felt  and  straw,  wool-spinning, 
and  the  manufacture  of  army  clothing  are  also  carried  on.  Nancy 
is  i*enowued  for  its  embroidery,  which  is,  however,  diminishing 
in  importance.  It  also  pos.sesscs  factories  for  cotton  spinning 
and  cotton  stuffs,  and  for  Hosiery.  The  starch  manufactories  and 
the  breweries,  especially  that  of  Tantonville,  the  largest  in  France, 
are  highly  productive.  Nancy  also  carries  on  distilleries,  grain- 
mills,  paper-mills,  manufactories  of  pasteboard  objects,  and  a  large 
printing  establishment.  The  commerce  of  the  depaitment  is  effec- 
tively served  by  300  miles  of  railway  (the  principal  line  being  tha*'. 
from  Paris  to  Strasburg  through  Nancy),  by  a  number  of  good  roads, 
and  by  sever.il  navigable  rivers  and  canals.  The  main  waterway 
is  formed  by  the  canal  between  the  Marne  and  the  Rhine,  which 
runs  by  Toul  aud  Nancy,  and  traverses  the  department  from  west 
to  east.  This  canal  communicates  with  the  Moselle,  which  is  navig- 
able from  Frouard  downwards,  and  with  the  new  eastern  camu, 
which  reascends  the  Moselle  as  far  as  Spinal,  and  which  is  intended 
to  unite  the  Meuso  and  the  Moselle  witli  the  Saflne  and  the  Rhone. 
The  population  of  Meurthe-et-Mosclle  in  1881  was  419,317  in- 
habitants. It  constitutes  the  diocese  of  Nancy,  has  its  court  of 
appeal  at  Nancy,  and  forms  a  part  of  the  district  of  the  Bth  army 
corps  (Chalons-sur-Marne).  There  are  i  arrondisseinenU  (Nancy, 
Brioy,  Luneville,  and  Toul),  29  cantons,  and  597  communes.  The 
capital  is  Nancy,  and  the  other  priucipal  towns  are  Pont  h  Mousson, 
formerly  the  seat  of  a  university  ;  Longwy  (6064),  a  fortified  place  ; 
and  Baccarat  (6013),  celebrated  for  its  glass-works. 

MEUSE,  Maese,  or  Maas,  a  river  of  France,  Belgium, 
and  Holland,  discharging  into  the  North  Sea  or  German 
Ocean,  has  a  course  (variously  measured)  of  Bome  500  or 
550  miles,  about  300  miles  lying  within  France.  Kising  in 
the  department  of  Haute-Marne  (1342  feet),  at  a  point 
where  the  plateau  of  Langres  borders  on  the  Monts  Faucilles, 
it  follows  a  winding  course,  first  from  south  to  north,  then 
to  Dorth-west,  and  afterwards  to  north,  across  the  depart- 
ments of  Vosges,  Meuse,  and  Ardennes,  passing  by 
Neufchateau,  Vaucouleurs,  Commercy,  St  Mihiel,  Verdun, 
Sedan,  Jfezi^res,  and  Qivet.  Katurally  navigable  below 
Verdun,  it  has  been  made  so  from  Troussey,  where  it  meets 
the  canal  which  unites  the  Marne  to  the  Rhine,  and  from 
this  point  to  Li^ge  it  admits  vessels  of  from  6  to  7  feet 
draught.  After  traversing  a  wide  valley  covered  by  green 
meadows,  the  Meuse,  below  M6zi6res,  flows  through  narrow 
gorges  confined  between  rocky  walls  200  or  300  feet  high, 
formed  by  the  plateau  of  the  Ardennes.  The  hills  of  the 
Argonne,  by  which  it  is  hemmed  in  on  its  upper  course, 
prevent  its  receiving  any  important  affluent  before  the 
Chiers  and  the  Semoy,  which  both  fall  into  it  on  the  right 
in  the  Ardennes.  At  the  point  where  it  leaves  France  its 
ordinary  volume  is  about  1000  cubic  feet,  [n  Belgium  it 
runs  picturesquely  between  the  districts  of  Famenne  and 
Condroz  on  the  right,  and  those  of  Les  Fagnes  and  Hesbaye 
on  the  left.  Above  Dinant  it  receives  the  Lesse,  whose 
valley  is  celebrated  for  its  wonderful  grottoes,  and  at  the 
foot  of  the  citadel  of  Namur  it  is  joined  on  the  left  by  its 
principal  affluent,  the  Sambre,  whose  north-easterly  direction 
it  takes.  It  then  takes  its  course  through  the  busy  valley 
in  which  Huy,  Seraing,  and  Li(5ge  are  situated,  receiving 
the  Ourthe  on  its  right.  Resuming  a  northerly  direction, 
then  taking  one  to  the  north-west,  and  finally  one  to  the 


west,  the  Meuse  passes  in  front  of  the  Dutch  citadel  of 
Maestricht  to  Roermonde.  so  called  from  its  continence 
there  with  the  Roer,  and  to'Venlo,  where  the  canal  between 
the  Meuse  and  the  Scheldt  begins.  Flowing  thence  through 
an  absolutely  unbroken  plain,  it  finally  joins  the  Rhine,  to 
which  it  gives  its  own  name,  although  the  volume  of  its 
waters  is  twenty  times  less  than  that  of  the  German  river. 
It  is  at  Gorcum  that  the  Waal,  the  first  separate  arm  of 
the  Rhine,  brings  to  the  Meuse  two-thirds  of  the  waters 
of  that  river.  The  Meuso  soon  after  divides  into  two 
branches.  While  the  Merwede  flows  due  west,  the  southern 
arm  falls  into  the  Biesbosch,  an  estuary  of  the  sea,  formed 
four  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago  by  an  irruption  of  the  sea 
over  a  coi'itry  then  cultivated  and  thickly  peopled,  and  now 
the  subject  of  attempts  at  reclamation.  On  reaching 
Dordrecht,  where  the  river  navigation  and  sea  navigation 
meet,  and  where  the  rafts  which  come  down  from  the 
Black  Forest  are  broken  up,  the  Meuse  again  divides  into 
two  arms.  The  Old  Meuse  flows  due  west,  while  the 
northern  arm  joins  the  Lek,  a  second  branch  of  the  Rhine, 
and  continues  its  coiu'se  to  Rotterdam.  This  is  the  most 
important  branch  of  the  estuary  of  the  Sleuse,  and  efforts 
are  being  made  to  regulate  and  deepen  its  channel  by  con- 
structing one  of  those  grand  canals  in  which  the  Dutch 
are  so  skilful.  Schiedam  and  Vlardingen,  both  on  the 
right,  are  the  last  places  of  importance  on  the  banks  of 
the  river. 

MEUSE,  a  department  in  the  north-east  of  France, 
formed  out  of  a  part  of  Lorraine  and  portions  of  the  Three 
Bishoprics,  the  Clermontais,  and  Champagne,  derives  its 
name  from  the  river  by  which  it  is  traversed  from  south 
to  north.  It  lies  between  4°  52'  and  5°  50'  E.  long.,  and 
between  48°  25'  and  49°  38'  N.  lat,  and  is  bounded  on 
the  N.  by  Belgium  and  the  department  of  Ardennes,  on 
the  E.  by  that  of  Meurthe-et^Moselle,  on  the  S.  by 
those  of  Vosges  and  Haute-Marne,  and  on  the  W.  by 
those  of  Marne  and  Ardennes.  Of  its  superficial  area  (2405 
square  miles),  about  one-half  belongs  to  the  basin  of  the 
Meuse,  which  is  enclosed  to  the  east  and  west  by  the 
eastern  and  western  Argonnes.  On  the  north-east  it  is 
watered  by  the  Orne,  a  tributary  of  the  Moselle,  and  the 
Chiers,  which  runs  by  Montm^dy,  and  joins  the  Meuse  a 
little  beyond  the  northern  limit  of  the  department.  The 
other  half  sends  its  waters  to  the  Seine  through  the  Aire,  a 
tributary  of  the  Aisne,  both  of  which  take  their  rise  here, 
and  by  the  Ornain,  an  affluent  of  the  Saux,  these  two  last 
being  tributary  to  the  Marne.  The  Meuse  receives  no 
important  river  in  its  course  through  this  department.  The 
highest  elevation  (1388  feet)  occurs  to  the  south-west,  on 
the  line  of  the  ridge  which  separates  the  basin  of  the 
Meuse  from  that  of  the  Seine.  'The  heights  gradually  sink 
from  south  to  north,  but  seldom  fall  below  1000  feet.  The 
hiUs  of  the  western  Argonne  similarly  sink  rapidly  down  to 
the  valley  of  the  Saux,  where  the  lowest  level  of  the 
department  (377  feet)  is  reached.  The  climate  of  Meuse 
is  transitional  between  the  region  of  the  Seine  and  that  of 
the  Vosges ;  its  winters  are  less  severe  than  those  of  the 
latter,  but  it  is  not  so  temperate  as  the  former.  The  mean 
annual  temperature  is  52°  Fahr.  As  at  Paris,  the  maximum 
cold  is  9°  Fahr.;  the  greatest  heat  rarely  exceeds  96' 
Fahr. 

More  than  half  the  sunace  of  the  department  consists  of  cultur- 
oble  lands,  one-fourth  of  forest,  one-tenth  of  meadow  land.  The 
proportion  of  horses  is  larger  than  in  any  other  French  depart- 
ment, except  La  Manche.  There  are  63,800  horses,  90,000  cattle, 
146,000  sheep,  125,000  pigs,  and  nearly  30,000  beehives.  Cereals, 
potatoes,  and  beet-root  are  the  chief  crops  (in  1877  466,966  quarters 
of  wheat,  104,660  quurters  of  barley,  685,365  quarters  of  oata, 
7,677, 374  bushels  of  potatoes,  besides  pulse,  hemp,  and  colza).  The 
vineyards  produced  more  than  6,600,000  gallons  of  wine  of  good 
quality.  'The  forests,  which  are  principally  of  oak,  ire  rich  in 
game,  as  are  the  rivers  in  iiab.     The  mineral  ^ealtb  of  the  depart- 


20fi 


M  E  X  — M  E  X 


I'ment  includes  ir»n  ore,  good  freestone,  and  fossil  phosphates  of  lime. 
iThere  are  blast-furnaces,  iron,  copper,  and  bell  foundries,  wire- 
[works,  and  manufactories  of  files,  Imrdware,  and  edge  tools.  Tho 
,cotton-spinning  factories  employ  15, 000  spindles  and  32,000  frames  ; 
the  woollen  manufacLuro  employs  0000  spindles,  and  some  hundreds 
of  persons  are  employed  in  the  spinning  and  weaving  of  hemp,  flax, 
and  jute.  The  glass-works  (particularly  the  manufactory  of  painted 
window-glass,  transferred  alter  the  war  of  1870  from  Metz  to  Bar- 
Je-Duc),  paper-mills,  saw-mills,  and  flour-mills,  as  well  as  the 
manufactures  of  lime,  tiles,  and  lire-bricks,  arc  worthy  of  mention. 
Hosiery  and  embroidery  also  give  occupation  to  a  great  nnmbcr  of 
workshops,  and  tho  department  is  celebrated  for  its  confectionery. 
Meuse  contains  more  than  300  miles  of  railway, — tlio  principal  lines 
(being  that  from  Paria  to  Strasbmg  through  Bai'-le-Duc  and  Com- 


mercy,  that  from  Paris  to  Metz  through  Verdnn,  and  the  branch 
line  to  the  Meuse.  Tho  chief  watenvays  avo  the  canal  connecting 
tho  Marno  with  the  Rhine,  and  tho  canal  of  tho  Meuse  ;  tlie  two 
together  have  a  length  of  146  miles.  The  population  of  the  depart- 
ment in  1881  was  28ii,861,— a  small  number  in  proportion  to 
its  extent,  and  with  a  tendency  to  decrease.  Eccrcsiaslically  it 
foi-ms  tho  diocese  of  Verdun  ;  it  has  its  court  of  appeal  at  Nancy, 
and  constitutes  part  of  tluj  district  of  tho  army  corps  of  Chalons. 
sur-Marne.  There  are  4  anoiidissements, — Bar-le-Duc,  Conimcrcy, 
MontmcSdy,  and  Verdun, — 28  cantons,  and  086  communes.  Bar- 
le-Duc  (population  in  1881,  17,435)  is  the  capital;  Commercy 
has  5260  inhabitants  and  Moutmedy  3000  ;  St  Mihiel  (6916),  on 
the  Ifeuso,  has  good  churches  and  some  remarkable  rocks,  and  is 
tho  seat  of  the  departmental  assize  court. 


EXICO 


L  ANcrEJfT  jrexico. 

THE  name  Mexico  is  connected  with  tho  name  ©f  the 
group  of  Aiilerican  tribes  calling  themselves  Mexica 
(sing.  Mexicalt),  or  Azteca.  The  word  i.?  related  to  or 
derived  from  the  name  of  the  Mexican  national  war-god 
Me.xitl,  better  known  as  Huitzilopochtli.  The  Aztecs  from 
the  12  th  century  appear  to  liave  migrated  from  place  to 
place  over  the  mountain-walled  plateau  of  Annlmac,  tho 
country  "  by  the  water,"  so  called  from  its  salt  lagoon.s,  and 
which  i.s  now  known  as  the  valley  of  Mexico.  About  1325 
they  founded  on  the  lake  of  Tezcuco  the  permanent  settle- 
ment of  Mexico  Tenochtitlan,  which  is  still  represented  by 
the  capital  city  Mexico.  The  name  JMe.xico  was  given  by 
the  Spanish  conquerors  to  tho  group  of  countries  over 
,which  the  Aztec  power  more  or  less  prevailed  at  tho  time 
pi  the  European  invasion.  Clavigero  (Storia  Antica  del 
'Messico,  vol.  i.)  gives  a  map  of  the  so-called  "  Mexican 
'empire,"  which  may  be  roughly  described  as  reaching  from 
the  present  Zacatecas  to  beyond  Guatemala ;  it  is  notice- 
able that  both  these  names  are  of  Mexican  origin,  derived 
respectively  from  words  for  "  straw  "  and  "  wood."  Eventu- 
ally Mexico  and  New  Mexico  came  to  designate  the  still 
vaster  region  of  Spanish  North  America,  which  (till  cut 
down  by  changes  which  have  limited  the  modern  republic 
of  Mexico)  reached  as  far  as  the  Isthmus  of  Panama  on 
the  south  and  took  in  California  and  Texas  on  the  north. 
Mexico  in  this  ivide  sense  is  of  high  interest  to  the 
anthropologist,  from  the  several  native  American  civiliza- 
'tions  which  appear  \vithm  its  limits,  and  which  con- 
Iveniently  if  loosely  group  themselves  round  two  centres, 
the  Mexican  proper  and  the-  Central  American. 

When  early  in  the  IGth  century  the  Spaniards  found 
their  way  from  tho  West  India  Islands  to  this  part  of  the 
mainland  of  America,  they  came  in  view  of  nations  cultured 
high  above  the  level  they  had  hitherto  met  with  in  the  New 
World.  Here  were  not  rude  and  simple  tribes  like  the 
islanders  of  the  Antilles,  but  nations  with  organized  armies, 
official  administrators,  courts  of  justice,  high  agriculture 
and  mechanical  arts,  and,  what  struck  tho  white  men 
'especially,  stone  buildings  whose  architecture  and  sculpture 
were  often  of  dimensions  and  elaborateness  to  astonish  the 
builders  and  sculptors  of  Europe.  How  a  population  of 
millions  could  inhabit  a  world  whose  very  existence  had 
been  till  then  unknown  to  geographers  and  historians,  and 
how  its  nations  could  have  reached  so  high  a  grade  of 
barbaric  industry  and  grandeur,  was  a  problem  which 
naturally  excited  the  liveliest  curiosity  of  scholars,  arid  gave 
rise  to  a  whole  literature.  Hernandez  and  Acosta  shared 
tho  opinion  of  their  tune  that  tho  gi-eat  fossil  bones  found 
in  Mexico  werte  remains  of  giants,  and  it  was  argued  that, 
as  before  the  deluge  there  v/cre  giants  on  tho  earth,  there- 
fore Mexico  was  peopled  from  tho  Old  World  in  ante- 
diluvian times.  On  tho  other  hand  the  multitude  of 
native  American  languages  suggested  that  the  migration 
to  America  took  place  after  tho  building  of  the  tower  of 


Babel,  and  Siguenza  arrived  at  tho  curiously  definite  result 
that  the  Mexicans  were  descended  from  Naphtuhim,  son  of 
Mizraim  and  gTandson  of  Noah,  who  left  Egypt  for  Mexico 
shortly  after  the  confusion  of  tongues.  Although  such 
speculations  have  fallen  out  of  date,  it  is  to  hb  remembered 
in  their  favour  that  they  were  stepping-stones  to  more  valid 
argunlent ;  especially  they  induced  the  collection  of  native 
traditions  ancl  invaluable  records  of  races,  languages,  and 
customs,  which  othei-vi^c  would  have  been  lost  for  ever. 
Even  in  the  present  ceutury  Lord  Kingsborough  was  led 
to  spend  a  fortune  in  2n-inting  a  magnificent  compilation  of 
Mexican  picture-writings  and  documents  in  his  Antiquitiea 
of  ilexico  by  his  zeal  to  prove  the  theory  advocated  by 
(jlarcia  a  century  earlier,  that  the  Mexicans  were  the  lost 
tribes  of  Israel. 

Real  information  as  to  the  nations  of  Mexico  beforb 
Spanish  times  is  very  imperfect,  but  not  altogether  want- 
ing. It  is  derived  partly  from  inspection  of  the  natives 
themselves,  their  languages  and  customs,  which  may  be 
now  briefly  considered,  before  going  on  to  the  recollections 
handed  down  in  the  native  picture-WTitings  ancl  oral  tradi- 
tions. The  remarks  made  by  the  accurate  and  experienced 
observer  Alexander  von  Humboldt,  who  had  seen  more 
American  tribes  than  almost  any  traveller,  are  still  entitled 
to  the  greatest  weight.  He  considered  the  native 
Americans  of  both  continents  to  be  substantially  similar 
in  race-characters.  Such  a  generalization  will  become 
sounder  if,  as  is  now  generally  done  by  anthropolo- 
gists, tho  Eskimo  with  their  pjTamidal  skulls,  dull 
complexion,  and  flat  noses  are  removed  into  a  division 
by  themselves.  Apart  from  these  polar  nomads,  the 
American  indigenes  group  roughly  into  a  single  race 
or  division  of  mankind,  of  course  with  loCal  variations. 
If  our  attention  is  turned  to  the  natives  of  Mexico  especi- 
ally, the  imity  of  type  will  be  found  particularly  close. 
The  native  population  of  tho  plateau  of  Mexico,  mainly 
Aztecs,  may  still  be  seen  by  thousands  without  any'trace  of 
mixture  of  Eiu-opean  blood  ;  and  the  following  description 
may  give  a  fair  idea  of  their  appearance.'  Their  stature  is 
somewhat  low,  estimated  about  5  feet  3  inches,  but  ihey 
are  of  muscular  and  sturdy  build.  Measurements  of  their  ■ 
skulls  show  them  mesoceiihalic  (index  about  V8),  or  inter- 
mediate between  the  dolichocephalic  and  brachyccphalic 
(narrow  and  wide  skulled)  types  of  mankind.  The  face  is 
oval,  with  low  forehead,  high  cheek-boni^s,  long  eyes 
sloping  outward  towards  the  temples,  fleshy  lips,  nose  wide 
and  in  some  cases  flatfish  but  in  others  aquiline,  coarsely 
moulded  features,  with  a  somewhat  stolid  and  gloomy 
expression.  Thickness  of  skin,  masking  the  muscles.  Las 
been  thought  tho  cause  of  a  peculiar  heaviness  in  tho  out- 
lines of  body  and  face  ;  the  complexion  varies  from  yellow- 
brown  to  chocolate  (about  40  to  -13  in  the  anthropological 


'  Keferences  may  bo  found  in  Bancroft,  Native  Baca  "f  the  Pacific^ 
SlaUa,  vol  i.  pp.  24,  673,  618,  W6. 


MEXICO 


207 


^cale) ;  eyes  black ;  straight  coarse  glossy  black  hair ; 
beard  and  moustache  scanty.  Among  variations  from 
this  typo  may  be  mentioned  higher  stature  in  some  districts, 
and  lighter  complexion  in  Tehuantcpec  and  elsewhere.  If 
now  the  native  Americans  be  compared  with  the  races  of 
the  regions  across  the  oceans  to  their  east  and  west,  it  will 
be  seen  that  their  unlikeness  is  extreme  to  the  races  east- 
ward of  them,  whether  white  Europeans  or  black  Africans. 
On  the  other  hand  they  are  considerably  like  the  Mongoloid 
l)eopIes  of  North  and  East  Asia  (less  so  to  the  Polynesians) ; 
so  that  the  tendency  anrong  anthropologists  is  now  generally 
to  admit  a  common  origin,  however  remote,  between  the 
tribes  of  Tartary  and  of  America.  This  original  connexion, 
if  it  may  be  accepted,  would  seem  to  belong  to  a  long-past 
period,  to  judge  from  the  failure  of  all  at..empt3  to  discover 
an  affinity  between  the  languages  of  America  and  Asia. 
At  whatever  date  the  Americans  began  to  people  America, 
they  must  have  had  time  to  import  or  develop  the  numerous 
families  of  languages  actually  found  there,  in  none  of  which 
has  community  of  origin  been  satisfactorily  proved  with 
any  other  language-group,  at  home  or  abroad.  In  Mexico 
itself  the  languages  of  the  Nahua  nations,  of  which  the 
Aj-.tec  is  the  best-known  dialect,  show  no  connexion  of 
origin  with  the  language  of  the  Otomi  tribes,  nor  either  of 
these  with  the  languages  of  the  regions  of  the  ruined  cities 
of  Central  America,  the  Quiche  of  Guatemala  and  the  Jfaya 
of  Yucatan.  Indeed,  within  the  Mexican  limits,  there  are 
various  other  languages  which,  so  far  as  philological 
research  can  at  present  decide,  are  independent  of  one 
another.  The  remarkable  phenomenon  of  nations  so 
similar  in  bodily  make  but  so  distinct  in  language  can 
hardly  be  met  except  by  supposing  a  long  period  to  have 
elapsed  since  the  country  Avas  first  inhabited  by  the 
ancestors  of  peo[)les  whose  language  has  since  passed  into 
€0  different  forms.  The  original  j)eopling  of  America  may 
■well  date  from  the  time  when  there  was  continuous  land 
between  it  and  Asia. 

It  would  not  follow,  however,  that  between  these  remote 
ages  and  the  time  of  the  discovery  of  the  New  World  by 
Columbus  no  fresh  immigrants  can  have  reached  America. 
We  may  put  out  of  the  question  the  Scandinavian  sea- 
rovers  who  sailed  to  Greenland  about  the  10th  century,  and 
appear  afterwards  to  have  coasted  New  Fngland  (see 
America,  vol.  i.  p.  706),  but  do  not  seem  to  have  found  their 
way  far  enough  southward  for  their  visit  to  have  any  effect 
on  Mexico.  But  at  all  times  communication  has  been  open 
from  East  Asia  and  even  the  South  Sea  islands  to  the  west 
coast  of  America.  The  imijortance  of  this  is  evident  when 
we  consider  that  Japanese  junks  now  drift  over  by  the 
ocean  current  to  California  at  the  rate  of  about  one  a  year, 
often  with  some  of  the  crew  still  alive  (see  C.  W.  Brooks  in 
Bancroft,  vol.  v.  p.  51 ;  Overland  ilonthli/,  San  Francisco, 
187'2,  J).  3.13).  Further  north,  the  Aleutian  islands  offer 
a  line  of  easy  sea  passage,  while  in  north-east  Asia,  near 
Behring's  Strait,  live  Chukchi  tribes  who  carry  on  inter- 
course with  the  American  side  ;  the  presence  of  Eskimo  in 
this  partof  Asia  (see  Nordenskiiild,  Voy.  ofVega,\o\.  ii.pp.  13, 
81)  is  so  plainly  due  to  locaUmigration  that  it  is  neglected 
in  comparing  the  languages  of  the  two  continents.  Asiatics 
such  as  Japanese  or  Kurile  Islanders,  if  they  found  their 
way  in  small  numbers  to  America  and  merged  into  native 
tribes,  might  hardly  leave  descendants  distinguishable 
from  the  rest  of  the  population  even  in  the  first  genera- 
tion, nor  introduce  their  own  language.  Such  assertions  as 
that  the  Guatusos  of  Costa  Rica  are  a  tribe  with  fair  skin 
and  flaxen  hair,  and  that  Jajianese  worjls  may  be  detected 
among  the  Indians  of  British  Columbia,  are  examples  of 
uvidence  which  may  be  worth  further  sifting ;  but  in  an 
account  like  the  present  no  proofs  can  be  admitted  unless  far 
.better  authenticated  than  tliese.     WHiat  gives  a  more  solid 


interest  to  the  question  of  Asiatic  influence  in  America,  w 
that,  though  neither  the  evidence  of  features  nor  of  language 
has  substantiated  it,  there  are  details  of  >[cxican  civilization 
which  are  most  easily  accounted  for  on  tlic  sup|)osition  that 
they  were  borrowed  from  Asia.  They  do  not  seem  ancient 
enough  to  have  to  do  wrth  a  remote  Asiatic  origin  of  the' 
nations  of  America,  but  rather  to  be  results  of  comparatively 
modern  intercourse  between  Asia  and  America,  probably 
since  the  Christian  era.  Humboldt  ( Vues  ilex  CordiUertc, 
pL.xxiii.)  compared  the  Jlexican  calendar  with  that  in  use 
in  eastern  Asia.  The  Mongols,  Tibetans,  Chinese,  and 
other  neighbouring  nations  have  a  cycle  or  scries  of  twelve 
animals,  viz.,  rat,  bull,  tiger,  hare,  dragon,  serpent,  horse, 
goat,  ape,  cock,  dog,  pig,  which  may  possibly  be  an  imita- 
tion of  the  ordinary  Babylonian-Greek  zodiac  familiar  tc 
ourselves.  The  Mongolian  peoples  not  only  count  their' 
lunar  months  by  these  signs,  but  they  reckon  the  successive 
days  by  them,  rat-day,  bull-day,  tiger-day,  ic,  and  also, 
by  combining  the  twelve  signs  in  rotation  with  the  ele- 
ments, they  obtain  a  means  of  marking  each  year  in  the 
sixty-year  cycle,  as  the  wood-rat  year,  the  fire-tiger  year,  (tc. 
This  method  is  highly  artificial,  consisting,  not  in  mere 
numbering,  but  in  combining  series  of  different  terms  so 
that  the  same  combination  does  not  recur  till  the  end  of 
the  period.  Thus  the  reajipearance  of  its  principle  in  th« 
Mexican  and  Central-American  calendar  (see  p.  212)  is  sug- 
gestive of  importation  from  Asia.  Humboldt  also  discussed 
the  Mexican  doctrine,  represented  in  the  native  pictures,  of 
four  ages  of  the  world  belonging  to  water,  earth,  air,  and 
fire,  and  ending  respectively  by  deluge,  earthquake,  tempest, 
and  conflagration.  The  resemblance  of  this  to  some 
versions  of  the  Hindu  doctrine  of  the  four  ages  or  yuga  is 
of  so  remarkable  a  closeness  as  hardly  to  be  accounted  for 
except  on  the  hyiJOthesis  that  the  Mexican  theology  con- 
tains ideas  learnt  from  Asiatics.  Among  Asiatic  jioints  of 
resemblance  to  which  attention  has  since  been  called  is 
the  Mexican  belief  in  the  nine  stages  of  heaven  aad  hell, 
an  idea  which  nothing  in  nature  would  suggest  directly  to 
a  barbaric  people,  but  which  corresponds  to  the  idea 
of  successive  heavens  and  hells  among  Brahmans  and 
Buddhists,  who  aiijiarcntly  learnt  it  (in  common  with  our 
own  ancestors)  from  the  Babylonian-Greek  astronomical 
theory  of  successive  stages  or  concentric  planetary  sjiherca 
belonging  to  the  jilancts,  he.  The  Spanish  chronicles 
also  give  accounts  of  a  Mexican  game  called  patolli,  played 
at  the  time  of  the  conquest  with  coloured  stones  moved 
on  the  squares  of  a  cross-shaped  figure,  according  to  the 
throws  of  beans  marked  on  on^  side ;  the  descriptions  of 
this  rather  complicated  game  correspond  closely  with  the 
Hindu  backgammon  called  pachisi  (see  Tylor  in  Jour. 
Anthrop.  Inst.,  vol.  viii.  p.  116).' 

The  native  history  of  Jlcxico  and  Central  America  is 
entitled  to  more  respect  than  the  mere  recollections  of 
savage  tribes,  inasmucli  as  here  memory  was  aided  by 
something  like  written  record.  The  Mexican  pictures  so 
far  approached  writing  pro)ier  as  to  set  down  legibly  the 
names  of  persons  and  places  and  the  dates  of  events,  while 
the  rude  drawings  which  accompanied  these  at  least 
helped  the  professional  historians  to  remember  the  tradi- 
tions repeated  orally  from  generation  to  generation.  Thus 
actual   documents  of   native   Aztec   history,  or  copies  of 


'  Tie  appendix  to  Prescott's  Conquest  of  Mexico  contains  iin 
interc-ting  snnnnaj'y  of  an.'xlofrics  Iietwcen  the  civilization  of  .Mexico 
and  tliat  of  the  Old  World,  but  sonic  of  the  arguments  arc  very  inra.n- 
dusive.  One  whicli  has  lieeu  oftin  cited  turns  on  the  likeness  alhigMl 
l>y  Naxcra  between  the  Chinese  lancuage  and  that  of  the  Otomi  nation 
of  V:Kico  (whose  name  survives  in  that  of  their  town  Otoinjian,  now 
Otuniba).  The  examination  of  an  Otonii  grammar  (such  as  Eli'inmtt 
■de  la.  Grammaire  Othomi,  Paris,  18C3)  will,  however,  convince  the 
philological  reader  that  the  resenihlance  is  haixUy  of  an  amount  fo 
found  a  theory  of  a  Chinese  connexion  upon. 


208 


MEXICO 


them,  are  still  open  to  the  study  of  scholars,  while  after 
the  conquest  interpretations  of  these  were  drawn  up  in 
writing  by  Spanish-educated  Mexicans,  and  histories 
founded  on  them  with  the  aid  of  traditional  memory  were 
written  by  Ixtlilxochitl  and  Tezozomoc ;  the  most  important 
of  these  picture-writings,  interpretations,  and  histories  may 
be  found  in  Kingsborough's  Antiquities  of  Mexico.  In 
Central  America  the  rows  of  complex  hieroglyphs  to  be 
seen  sculptured  on  the  ruined  tunii)Ies  probably  served 
a  similar  purpose  up  to  the  time  of  the  Spanish  invasion. 
The  documents  purporting  to  bo  histories,  written  down 
by  natives  in  later  times,  thus  more  or  less  represent  real 
records  of  the  past,  but  the  Uisk  of  separating  the  preponder- 
ant mythical  part  from  what  is  real  history  is  of  the  utmost 
difficulty.  Among  the  most  curious  documents  of  early 
Amerioa  is  the  Popo!-Vuh  or  national  book  of  the  Quiche 
kingdom  of  Guatemala,  a  compilation  of  traditions  ■written 
down  by  native  scribes,  found  and  translated  by  Father 
Ximenez  about  1700,  and  pubUshed  by  Scherzer  (Vienna, 
1857)  and  Brasseur  de  Bourbourg  (Paris,  1861).  This 
book, '  composed  in  a  pictiu'eSque  barbaric  style,  begins 
with  the  time  when  there  was  only  the  heaven  with  its 
boundaries  towards  the  four  winds,  but  as  yet  there  was 
no  body,  nothing  that  clung  to  anything  else,  nothing  that 
balanced  itself  or  rubbed  together  or  made  a  sound  ;  there 
was  nought  below  but  the  calm  sea  alone  in  the  silent 
darkness.  Alone  were  the  Creator,  the  Former,  the  Ruler, 
the  Feathered  Serpent,  they  who  give  being  and  whose  name 
is  Gucumatz.  Then  foUows  the  creation,  when  the  creators 
said  "Earth,"  and  the  earth  was  formed  like  a  cloud  or  a  fog, 
and  the  mountains  appeared  like  lobsters  from  the  water, 
cypress  and  pine  covered  the  hills  and  valleys,  and  their 
forests  were  peopled  with  beasts  and  birds,  but  these  could 
not  speak  the.  name  of  their  creators,  but  could  only  chatter 
and  croak.  So  man  was  made  first  of  clay,  but  he  was 
etrengthless  and  senseless  and  melted  in  the  water ;  then 
they  made  a  race  of  wooden  mannikins,  but  these  were 
useless  creatiires  without  heart  or  mind,  and  they  were 
destroyed  by  a  great  flood,  and  pitch  poured  down  on  them 
from  heaven,  those  who  were  left  of  them  being  turned 
into  the  apes  stiU  to  bo  seen  in  the  woods.  After  this 
comes  the  creation  of  the  four  men  and  their  wives  who 
are  the  ancestors  of  the  Quiches,  and  the  tradition  records 
the  migrations  of  the  nation  to  Tulan,  otherwise  cfdied  the 
Seven  Caves,  and  thence  across  the  sea,  whose  waters  were 
divided  for  their  passage.  It  is  worth  while  to  mention 
these  few  early  incidents  of  the  national  legend  of 
Guatemala,  because  their  Biblical  incidents  show  how 
native  tradition  incorporated  matter  learnt  from  the  white 
men.  Moreover,  this  Central- American  document,  mythical 
as  it  is,  has  an  historical  importance  from  its  bringing  in 
names  belonging  also  to  the  traditions  of  Mexico  proper. 
Thus  Gucumatz,  "  Feathered  Seri>ent,"  corresponds  in  name 
to  the  Mexican  deity  Quetzalcoatl ;  Tulan  and  the  Seven 
Caves  are  familiar  W5ras  in  the  Aztec  miyration-traditions, 
and  there  is  even  mention  of  a  chief  of  Toltccat,  a  name 
plainly  referring  to  the  famed  Toltecs,  of  whom  further 
account  will  be  given  in  their  place  in  Mexican  history. 
Thus  the  legends  of  the  Popol-  Yuh  confirm  what  is  learnt 
from  comparing  the  ciJture  of  Central  America  and  Mexico 
proper,  that,  though  the  nations  of  these  districts  were  not 
connected  by  language,  the  intercourse  and  mixture 
between  them  had  been  sufficient  to  implant  in  them  much 
■common  civilization,  and  to  justify  the  anthropologist  in 
including  both  districts  in  one  region.  Historical  value  of 
the  ordinary  kind  may  be  found  in  the  latter  paj-t  of  the 
Popol-  Vuh,  which  gives  names  of  chiefs  down  to  the  time 
when  they  began  to  bear  Spanish  names,  and  the  great  city 
of  Quich6  became  the  deserted  ruin  of  Santa  Cruz.  The 
Maya  district  of  Yucatan  has  also  some  vestiges  of  native 


traditions  in  the  manuscript  tsanslated  by  D.  Pio  Perez 
(in  Stephens,  Incidents  of  Travel  in  Yucatan)  and  in  tlie 
remarkable  16th  century  Relacion  de  las  Cosas  de  Yucatan, 
by  Diego  de  Landa,  published  by  Brasseur  de  Bourboui'g 
(Paris,  1864).  As  in  the  Guatemala  traditions,  we  hear 
of  ancient  migration  from  the  Mexican  legendary  region 
of  Tula ;  and  here  the  leaders  are  four  famous  chiefs  or 
ance.stors  who  bear  the  Aztec  name  of  the  Tutul-Xiu,  which 
interpreted  means  "  Bird-Tree."  Unfortunately  for  the 
historical  standing  of  these  four  ancestors,  there  are  in  tiie 
Aztec  picture-\vriting3  representations  of  four  trees  each 
with  a  bird  perched  on  it,  and  placed  facing  the  four 
quarters,  which  make  it  probable  that  the  four  Tutul-Xiu  of 
tradition,  in  spite  of  the  circumstantial  detail  of  their  wars 
and  migrations,  may  be  only  mythic  per.sonifications  of  tlie 
four  cardinal  points  (see  Schultz-Sellack  in  Zeitsck.f.  Ethn., 
1879,  p.  209).  Nevertheless,  part  of  the  later  Maya  records 
may  be  genuine, — for  instance,  when  they  relate  the  war 
about  three  centuries  before  the  Spanish  conquest,  when  the 
king  of  Chichen-Itza  destroyed  the  great  city  of  Mayapan. 
Though  the  names  and  dates  of  Central-American  native 
kings  have  too  little  interest  to  general  readers  for  traditions 
of  them  to  be  dwelt  on  here,  they  Jiring  into  view  one  im- 
portant historical  point,  that  the  wondrous  ruined  cities  of 
this  region  are  not  to  be  thought  monuments  of  a  perished 
race  in  a  forgotten  past,  but  that  at  least  some  of  them 
belong  to  history,  having  been  inhabited  up  to  the  conquest, 
apparently  by  the  very  nations  who  built  them. 

Turning  now  to  the  native  chronicles  of  the  Mexican 
nations,  these  are  found  to  be  substantial  dated  records 
going  back  to  the  18th  or  13th  century,  with  some  vague 
but  not  worthless  recollections  of  national  events  from  times 
some  centuries  earlier.  These  last-mentioned  traditions, 
in  some  measure  borne  out  by  Linguistic  evidence  of  names 
of  places,  tribes,  and  persons,  point  to  the  immigration  of 
detachments  or  branches  of  a  widespread  race  speaking  »■ 
common  language,  which  is  represented  to  us  by  the 
Aztec,  still  a  spoken  language  in  Mexico.  This  language 
was  called  nahtuttl,  and  one  who  spoke  it  as  his  native 
tongue  was  called  nahuatlacatl,  so  that  modern  anthro- 
pologists are  following  native  precedent  when  they  use  the 
term  Nahua  for  the  whole  series  of  peoples  now  under 
consideration.^  Earliest  of  the  Nahua  nations,  the  Toltecs 
are  traditionally  related  to  have  left  their  northern  home 
of  Huehuetlapallan  in  the  6th  century ;  and,  though  this 
remote  date  cannot  be  treated  as  belonging  to  genuine 
history,  there  is  other  evidence  of  the  real  existence  of  the 
nation.  Their  name  Toltecatl  signifies  an  inhabitant  of 
ToUan,  "  land  of  reeds,"  a  place  which,  as  has  been  already 
pointed  out,  appears  elsewhere  in  the  national  traditions  of 
this  region,  and  has  a  definite  geographical  site  in  the 
present  Tulan  or  Tula,  north  of  the  valley  of  Anahuac, 
where  a  Toltec  kingdom  of  some  extent  seems  to  have  had 
its  centre.  To  this  nation  is  a-scribed  not  only  the  oldest 
but  the  highest  culture  of  the  Nahua  nations ;  to  them 
was  due  the  introduction  of  maize  and  cotton  into  Mexico, 
the  skilful  workmanship  in  gold  and  silver,  the  art  of  build- 
ing on  a  scale  of  vastncss  still  witnessed  to  by  the  mound  of 
Cholula,  said  to  be  Toltec  work  ;  the  Mexican  hierogljiihic 
writing  and  calendar  are  also  declared  to  have  been  of 
Toltec  origin.  With  the  Toltecs  is  associated  the  mysterious 
tradition  of  Quetzalcoatl,  a  name  which  presents  itself  in 
Mexican  rehgion  as  that  of  a  great  deity,  god  of  the  air, 
and  in  legend  as  that  of  a  saintly  ruler  and  civilizer.  His 
brown  and  beardless  worshippers  describe  him  as  of  another 
raee,  a  white  man  with  noble  features,  long  black  hair  and 
full  beard,  dressed  in  flowing  robes.     He  came  from  Tullan 


'  It  should  bo  noticwl  Hint  this  word  is  not  ctj-mologiciUy  con- 
nected with  the  somewhat  similar  word  Anahxtac,  ofj'hich  the  muni 
ing  U  given  at  pitge  208. 


MEXICO 


209 


or  from  Yucatan  (for  the  stones  differ  widely),  and  dwelt 
twenty  years  among  them,  teaching  men  to  follow  his 
austere  and  virtuous  life,  to  hate  all  violence  and  war,  to 
sacrifice  no  men  or  beasts  on  the  altars,  but  to  give  mild 
offerings  of  bread  and  flowers  and  perfumes,  and  to  do 
penance  by  the  votaries  drawing  blood  with  thorns  from 
their  own  bodies,  legend  tells  stories  of  his  teaching  men 
picture-writing  and  the  calendar,  and  also  the  artistic  work 
of  the  silversmith,  for  which  Cholula  was  long  famed ;  but 
at  last  he  departed,  some  say  towards  the  unknown  land  of 
Tlapallan,  but  others  to  Coatzacualco  on  the  Atlantic  coast 
on  the  confines  of  Central  America,  where  native  tradition 
still  keeps  up  the  divine  names  of  Gncumatz  among  the 
Quiches  (see  p.  208)  and  Cukulcan  among  the  Mayas,  these 
names  ha,ving  the  same  meaning  as  Quetzalcoatl  in  Aztec, 
viz.,  "  Feathered  Serpent."  Kative  tradition  held  that 
when  Quetzalcoatl  reached  the  Atlantic  he  sent  back  his 
companions  to  tell  the  Cholulans  that  in  a  futiu'e  age  his 
bretiren,  white  men  and  bearded  like  himself,  should  land 
there  from  the  sea  where  the  sun  rises,  and  come  to  rule 
the  country.  That  there  is  a  basis  of  reality  in  the  Toltec 
traditions  is  shown  by  the  word  toltecail  having  become 
among  the  later  Aztecs  a  substantive  signifying  an  artist 
or  skUled  craftsman.  It  \a  further  related  by  the  Mexican 
historians  that  the  Toltec  nation  all  but  perished  in  the 
11th  century  by  years  of  drought,  famine,  and  pestUence, 
a  few  only  of  the  survivors  remaining  in  the  land,  while  the 
rest  migrated  into  Yucatan  and  Guatemala,  where,  as  has 
been  already  pointed  out,  their  name  is  commemorated  in 
local  records.  After  the  Toltecs  came  the  Chichimecs, 
whose  name,  derived  from  chichi,  "dog,"  is  applied  to 
many  rude  tribes ;  the  Chichimecs  here  in  question  are 
said  to  have  come  from  Amaquemecan  under  a  king  named 
Xolotl,  names  which  being  Aztec  imply  that  the  nation 
was  Nahua ;  at  any  rate  they  appear  afterwards  as  fusing 
with  more  cultured  Nahua  nations  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  Tezcuco.  Lastly  is  recorded  the  Mexican  immigration 
of  the  seven  nations,  Xochimiica,  Chalca,  Tepaneca, 
Acolhua,  Tlahuica,  Tlascalteca,  Azteca.  This  classification 
of  the  Nahnatlac  tribes  has  a  meaning  and  value.  It  is 
true  that  Aztlan,  the  land  whence  the  Aztecs  traced  their 
name  and  source,  cannot  be  identified  by  geographers,  while 
the  story  of  the  separation  of  the  seven  nations  at  the  place 
called  Chicomoztoc  or  Seven  Caves  looks  like  national  legend 
rather  than  real  history.  But  the  later  stages  of  the  long 
Aztec  migration  seem  historical,  and  the  map  of  Mexico 
still  shows  the  names  of  several  settlements  recorded  in  the 
curious  migration-map  published  by  Gemelii  Careri  {Giro 
del  Hondo,  Venice,  1728)and  commented  on  by  Humboldt; 
among  these  local  names  are  Tzompanco,  "  place  of  skulls," 
now  Zumpango  in  the  north  of  iha  Mexican  valley,  and 
Chapultepec,  "grasshopper  hill,"  now  a  suburb  of  the  city 
of  Mexico  itself,  where  the  Aztecs  are  recorded  to  have 
celebrated  in  1195  the  festival  of  tying  up  the  "bundle  of 
years "  and  beginning  a  new  cycle.  The  Aztecs  moving 
from  place  to  place  in  Anahuac  found  little  welcome  from 
the  Nahua  peoples  already  settled  there,  whose  own  history 
was  indeed  one  of  incessant  jealousy  and  quarrel.  One  of 
the  first  clear  events  of  the  Aztec  arrival  is  their  being 
made  tributary  by  the  Tepanecs,  in  whose  service  or 
alliance  they  began  to  manifest  their  warlike  prowess  in 
the  fight  near  Tepeyaeac,  where  now  stands  the  famous 
shrine  of  Our  Lady  of  Giiadalupe.  Thus  they  overcame  in 
arms  the  Acolhuas,  their  superiors  in  civilization,  who  had 
made  Tezcuco  a  centre  of  prosperity  and  improvement. 
By  the  13th  century  the  Aztecs  by  their  ferocity  had 
banded  their  neighbours  together  against  them ;  some 
were  driven  to  take  refuge  on  the  reedy  lake  shore  at 
^coculco  while  others  were  taken  as  captives  into 
Oiilhuacan     The  king  of  this  district    was  Coscoxtli, 

16—10 


whose  name  has  gained  an  nndeeerved  reputation  even  in 
Europe  as  "Coxcox,  the  Mexican  Noah,"  from  a  scene  in 
the  native  picture-writing  where  his  name  appears  together 
with  the  figure  of  a  man  floating  in  a  dug-out  tree^  which 
has  been  mistaken  even  by  Humboldt  for  a  represen- 
tation of  the  Mexican  deluge-myth.  Coxcoxtli  used 
the  help  of  the  Aztecs  "against  the  Xochimilco  people, 
but  his  own  nation,  horrified  at  their  bloodthirsty  sac- 
rifice of  prisoners,  drove  them  out  to  live  for  years  in 
want  and  misery  on  the  islands  and  swamps  of  the 
great  salt  lagoon,  where  they  are  said  to  have  taken  to 
making  their  chinampas  or  floating  gardens  of  mud 
heaped  on  rafts  of  reeds  and  brush,  which  in  later  times 
were  so  remarkable  a  feature  of  Mexico.  As  one  of  the 
Aztec  chiefs  at  the  time  of  the  founding  of  their  city  was 
called  Tenoch,  i.e.,  "Stone-cactus,"  it  is  likely  that  from 
him  was  derived  the  name  Tenochtitlan  or  "  StoneKjactns 
place."  Written  as  this  name  is  in  pictures  or  rebus,  it 
probably  suggested  the  invention  of  the  well-known  legend 
of  a  prophecy  that  the  war-god's  temple  should  be  bnilt 
where  a  prickly  pear  was  found  growing  on  a  rcik,  and 
perched  on  it  an  eagle  holding  a  serpent ;  this  legend  is 
still  commemorated  on  the  coins  of  Mexico.  Mexico- 
Tenochtitlan,  founded,  about  1325,' for  many  years  after- 
wards probably  remained  a  cluster  of  huts,  and  the  higher 
civilization  of  the  cou;itry  was  still  to  be  found  among  the 
other  nations,  especially  among  the  Acolhuas  in  Tezcuco. 
The  wars  of  this  nation  with  the  Tepanecs,  which  went  on 
into  the  15th  century,  were  merely  destructive,  but  larger 
effects  arose  from  the  expeditions  under  the  Culhua  king 
Acamapichtli,  where  the  Aztec  warriors  were  prominent, 
and  which  extended  far  outside  the  valley  of  Anahuac. 
Especially  a  foray  southward  to  Quauhnahuac,  now  Cuer- 
navaca,  on  the  watershed  between  the  Atlantic  and  Pacific, 
caused  the  bringing  of  goldsmiths  and  other  craftsmen  home 
to  Tenochtitlan,  which  now  began  to  rise  in  arts,  the  Aztecs 
laying  aside  their  rude  garments  of  aloe-fibre  for  more 
costly  clothing,  and  going  out  as  traders  for  foreign 
merchandise.  In  the.  14th  century  the  last  great  national 
struggle  took  place.  The  Acolhuas  had  at  first  the 
advantage,  but  Ixtlilxochitl  did  not  follow  up  the  beaten 
Aztecs  but  allowed  them  to  make  peace,  whereupon,  under 
professions  of  submission,  they  fell  upon  and  sacked  the 
city  of  Tezcuco.  The  next  king  of  Tezcuco,  Nezahualcoyotl,' 
turned  the  course  of  war,  when  Azcapuzalco,  the  Tepanec 
stronghold,  was  taken  and  the  inhabitants  sold  as  slaves  by 
the  conquering  Acolhuas  aSd  Aztecs ;  the  place  thus  de- 
graded became  afterwards  the  great  slave-market  of  Mexico. 
In  this  war  we  first  meet  with  the  Aztec  name  Moteuczoma, 
afterwards  so  famous  in  its  Spanish  form  Monteziuna. 
About  1430  took  place  the  triple  alliance  of  the  Acolhua, 
Aztec,  and  Tepanec  kings,  whose  capitals  were  Tezcuco, 
Mexico,  and  Tlacopan,  the  latter  standing  much  below  the 
other  two.  In  fact  the  Aztecs  now  became  so  predominant 
that  the  rest  of  native  history  may  be  fairly  called  the 
Aztec  period,  notwithstanding  the  picturesque  magnificence 
and  intellectual  culture  which  made  Tezcuco  celebrated 
under  Nezahualcoyotl  and  his  son  NezahualpiUi.  When 
the  first  Moteuczoma  was  crowned  king  of  the  Aztecs,  the 
Mexican  sway  extended  far  beyond  the  valley  plateau  of 
its  origin,  and  the  gods  of  conquered  nations  around  had 
their  shrines  set  up  in  Tenochtitlan  in  manifest  inferiority 
to  the  temple  of  Huitzilopochtli,  the  war-god  of  the  Aztec 
conquerors.  The  rich  region  of  Quauhnahuac  became 
tributary ;  the  Miztec  country  was  invaded  southward  to 
the  Pacific,  and  the  Xicalanca  region  to  what  is  now  Vera 
Cruz.  It  was  not  merely  for  conquest  and  tribute  that  the 
fierce  Mexicans  ravaged  the  neighbour-lands,  but  they  had 
a  stronger  motive  than  either  in  the  desire  to  obtain 
multitudes  of  prisoners  whose  hearts  were  to  be  torn  out 


210 


MEXICO 


by  the  sacrificing  priests  to  propitiate  a  pantheon  of  gods 
■who  well  i^ersonified  their  bloodthirsty  worshippers.  The 
desire  for  war-captives  as  acceptable  victims  is  related  to 
have  brought  about  an  almost  incredible  agreement  among 
nations  of  the  Mexican  alliance,  that  they  should  from 
time  to  time  fight  battles  among  themselves  in  order  to 
provide  prisoners  for  the  altars.  Thus  there  was  something 
of  the  character  of  a  religious  war  in  the  expedition  made 
in  1469  under  AxayacatI  as  far  down  the  isthmus  as 
Tehuantepec,  whence  the  Mexican  army  came  back  with 
loads  of  rich  plu'^er  and  thousands  of  captives,  and  the 
later  ravaging  of  the  Totonac  region  as  far  as  the  Atlantic, 
■when  the  inhabitants  were  taken  for  sacrifice  and  their 
land  recolonized  by  Aztecs.  Ahuitzotl  left  the  Aztec 
empire  (as  it  is  often  somewhat  ambitiously  called)  at  the 
height  of  apparent  power,  but  the  cruel  oppression  of  the 
subject  regions  had  made  their  life  ahnost  unbearable,  and 
the  second  Moteuczoma,  coming  to  a  rule  already  liable  to 
break  Up  from  within,  weakened  it  still  more  by  upholding 
the  class  of  chiefs  or  nobles  against  the  common  people 
■who  as  warrior.^  and  traders  had  in  great  measure  made 
the  prosperity  of  the  allied  nations.  The  Mexicans  had 
long  tried  to  subjugate  the  stubborn  little  nation  of  Tlax- 
callan  (Tlascala),  which  had  obstinately  held  out,  though  so 
hemmed  in  that  for  years  the  people  lived  ■without  salt,  this 
being  no  longer  to  be  had  from  the  sea-coast.  Moteuczoma 
made  a  last  effort  to  crush  them,  but  in  vain,  and  when 
the  Spaniards  came  they  were  there  as  ready-made  allies 
planted  on  the  high  road  to  Mexico.  From  the  date  when 
the  festival  of  the  new  cycle  was  first  celebrated  in 
Chapultepec  six  52-year  periods  had  passed  when  in  1.507 
the  new  fire  symbolizing  the  beginning  of  a  new  cycle 
■was  kindled  for  the  last  time  on  the  breast  of  a  human 
■victim.  Rumours  of  the  coming  of  the  Europeans  may 
have  before  this  date  spread  from  Cuba,  but  in  1517 
Cordova  touched  in  Yucatan,  and  in  1518  Grijalva  was 
on  the  east  coast  of  Mexico,  and  the  Aztecs  first  met  the 
■white  men,  in  whom  they  .saw,  partly  ■with  hope  and  partly 
with  fear,  the  fulfilment  of  the  prophecy  that  Quetzalcoatl 
should  one  day  return.  With  the  Spanish  conquest  under 
Hernando  Cortes  (see  Coktes)  the  native  history  of  Mexico 
coirfes  to  an  end. 

CrvnizATioN. 
Goverr-  While  the  prairie  tribes  of  America  lived  nnder  the  loose 
dent.  sway  of  chiefs  and  councils  of  old  men,  the  settled  nations  of 
M«xico  had  attained  to  a  somewhat  highly  organized  government. 
This  may  be  seen  by  the  elaborate  balance  of  power  maintained  in 
tlie  federation  of  Mexico,  Tezcuco,  and  Tlacopan,  where  each  king 
wae  absolute  in  his  own  country,  but  in  war  or  other  pubhc  interests 
ihey  acted  jointly,  with  powers  in  something  like  the  proportion  in 
which  they  divided  conquered  lands  and  spoil,  which  was  two-fifths 
each  to  Mexico  and  Teiicuco  and  one-fifth  to  Tlacopan.  The  suc- 
cessor of  the  Aiitec  king  was  customardy  a  chosen  brother  or  nephew, 
ttw  eldest  having  the  first  claim  unless  set  aside  as  incompetent, 
a^d  having  to  be  a  tried  warrior ;  this  mode  of  succession,  which  has 
bwn  looked  on  as  an  elaborate  practical  device  for  secluding  practical 
aflTautages,  seems  rather  to  have  arisen  out  of  the  law  of  choice 
among  the  descendants  of  the  female  line,  found  in  American  tribes 
of  much  lower  culture.  Something  like  this  appears  in  the  succcs- 
aoa  of  kings  ot  Tezcuco  and  Tlacopan,  which  went  to  sons  by  the 
pnncipal  wife,  who  was  usually  of  the  Azioc  royal  family.  The 
jSSexican  chronicles,  however,  show  instances  of  the  king's  son  suc- 
ceeding, yr  of  powerful  chiefs  being  elcctt'd  to  the  kingship.  The 
tdm  republic  is  sometimes  used  to  describe  the  little  state  of 
Tloscala,  but  this  was  in  fact  a  federation  of  four  cbiefs,  with  an 
assembly  of  nobles.  In  the  Zapotec  district  the  Wiyatao  or  high- 
priost  of  Zopaa  was  a  divine  ruler  before  whom  all  prostrated  them- 
sdv«s  with  faces  to  the  ground  ;  he  was  even  too  sacred  to  allow 
his  foot  to  touch  the  earth,  and  W.1S  only  seen  carried  in  a  litter. 
Palace:,  The  acoounts  given  by  the  Spanish  and  native  Mexican  writers'  of 
&c.  the  courts  and  palaces  of  the  native  kings  must  be  taken  with  some 

icsarre,  froih  the  tendency  to  use  descriptive  terms  not  actually 
iMttrue,  but  which  convey  erroneous  ideas  taken  from  European^ 
a'ltetccture  ;  thus  what  are  called  columns  of  porphyry  and  jasper 
supporting  marble  balconies  might  perhips  be  better  described  as 
piti's  carrying  slabs,  while  the  apartraeiits  and  tornuM  muit  have  I 


been  more  remarkable  for  number  and  extent  ;han  architcctui»l 
grandeur,  being  but  low  one-storied  buildings.  The  principal 
palace  of  Mexico  consisted  of  hundreds  of  rooms  and  halls  ranged 
round  three  open  squares,  with  women's  apartment?,  granaries/ 
storehouses,  menageries,  aviaries,  of  such  extent  that  one  of  the 
companions  of  Cortes  records  having  four  times  wandered  about 
till  he  was  tired,  without  seeing  the  whole.  Not  less  remark- 
able was  the  palace  of  Tezcuco,  surrounded  with  its  groves  and 
iileasure -gardens  ;  and,  though  now  hardly  anything  remains  of  the 
buildings  above  ground,  the  neighbouring  hill  of  Tezcotrinco  still 
has  its  stone  steps  and  terraces  ;  and  the  immense  embankment 
carrj'ing  the  aqueduct-channel  of  hewn  stone  which  supplied  water 
to  basins  ciit  in  the  solid  rock  still  remains  to  prove  that  the  chron- 
iclers' descriptions,  if  highly-coloured,  were  at  any  rate  geuuine.  Till 
the  last  centtuy  the  gigantic  figure-s  of  AxayacatI  and  his  son  Monte- 
zuma were  to  be  seen  carved  in  the  porphj-rj'  hill  of  Chapultepec, 
but  these  as  well  as  the  hanging  gardens  have  been  destroyed,  and 
only  the  groves  of  ahuehucU  (cypress)  remain  of  the  ancient  beauties 
of  the  place.  That  in  the  palace  gardens  flowers  from  the  tierra 
caliente  were  transplanted,  and  water-fowl  bred  near  fresh  and  salt 
pools  fit  for  each  kind,  that  all  kinds  of  birds  and  beasts  were  kept 
in  well-appointed  zoological  gardens  where  there  were  homes  even 
for  alligators  and  snakes, — all  this  testifies,  not  merely  to  barbaric 
ostentation,  but  to  a  cultivation  of  natural  histon,-  which  was  really 
beyond  the  European  level  of  the  time.  From  the  palaces  and  re- 
tinues of  thousands  of  servants  attached  to  the  royal  service  may  bo 
inferred  at  once  the  despotic  power  ot  the  Mexican  rulers  and  the 
heavy  taxation  of  the  people  ;  in  fact  some  of  the  most  remarkable 
of  the  picture-writings  are  tribute-rolls  enumerating  by  hundreds 
and  thousands  the  mantles,  ocelot-skins,  bags  of  gold-dust,  bronze 
hatchets,  loads  of  chocolate,  &c. ,  furnished  periodically  by  the  towns. 
Below  the  king  was  a  numerous  and  powerful  class  of  nobles,  the 
highest  of  whom  (tlatoani)  were  great  vassals  owing  little  more  than 
homage  and  tribute  to  their  feudal  lord,  while  the  natoral  result 
of  the  unruliness  of  the  noble  class  was  that  the  king  to  keep  them 
in  check  increased  their  numbers,  brought  them  to  the  capital  aa 
councillors,  aud  balanced  their  influence  by  military  and  household 
otEcers,  and  by  a  rich  and  powerful  merchant  class.  The  noUes 
not  only  had  privileges  of  rank  and  dignitj',  but  substantial  power 
over  the  plebeian  or  peasant  class  {macehualli),  who  submitted  to 
much  the  same  oppression  and  ejctortion  at  their  hands  aa  was 
customary  in  the  Old  World.  The  tenures  of  land  in  Mexico  were 
those  generally  appearing  in  barbaric  countries  where  invasion  and 
mihtary  despotism  have  encroached  on  but  not.  totally  superseded 
the  earlier  tribal  laws.  The  greatest  estates  belonged  to  the  king, 
or  had  been  granted  to  military  chiefs  whose  sons  succeeded  them, 
or  were  the  endowments  of  temples,  hut  the  calpulH  or  village 
commuiuty  still  survived,  and  each  freeman  of  the  tribe  held  and 
tilled  his  portion  of  the  common  lands.  Below  the  freemen  were 
the  slaves,  who  were  war-captives,  persons  enslaved  for  punishment, 
or  children  sold  by  their  parents.  Prisoners  of  war  were  mostly 
doomed  to  sacrifice,  but  other  classes  of  slaves  were  mildly  treated, 
retaiiung  civil  rights,  aud  their  children  were  born  free. 

The  superior  courts  of  law  formed  part  of  the  palace,  and  there  Justiot 
were  tribunals  in  the  principal  cities,  over  each  of  which  presided  & 
supreme  judge  or  cihiiacoatl,  who  was  irremovable,  and  whose 
criminal  decisions  not  even  the  king  might  reverse  ;  he  appointed 
the  lower  judges  and  heard  appeals  from  them  ;  it  is  doubtful 
whether  he  judged  in  civU  cases,  hut  both  kinds  of  suits  were  heard 
in  the  court  below,  by  the  ilacatccali  and  his  two  associates,  below 
whom  were  the  ward-magistrates.  Lands  were  set  apart  for  the 
maintenance  of  the  judges,  and  indeed  nothing  gives  a  higher  idea 
of  the  elaborate  civilization  of  Mexico  than  this  judicial  system, 
which  culminated  in  a  general  court  and  council  of  state  presided 
over  by  the  king.     The  laws  and  recoids  of  suits  were  set  down  in 

Sicture-writings,  of  which  some  are  still  to  be  seen  ;  sentence  of 
eath  was  recorded  by  drawing  a  line  with  an  arrow  across  the 
portrait  of  the  condemned,  and  the  chroniclers  describe  the  barbaric 
solemnity  with  which  the  king  passed  sentence  sitting  on  a  golden 
and  jewelled  throne  in  the  divine  tribunal,  with  one  hand  on  an 
orn.aincnted  skull  and  the  golden  arrow  in  the  other.  Among  tho 
resemblances  to  Old-World  law  was  tho  use  of  a  judicial  oath,  tho 
witness  touching  tho  ground  with  his  finger  and  putting  it  to  his 
lips,  thus  swearing  by  Mother  Earth.  The  criminal  laws  were  of 
extreme  severity,  even  petty  theft  being  puirishcd  by  the  thief  being 
enslaved  to  the  person  he  had  robbed,  while  to  steal  a  tobacco 
pouch  or  twenty  ears  of  com  was  death ;  he  who  pilfered  in  tho 
market  was  then  and  thorcheaten  to  de.ith,  and  he  who  insulted  Xipe, 
the  god  of  the  gold-  and  silver-smiths,  bv  stealing  his  precious  metal, 
was  skinned  alive  and  sacrificed  to  tho  olTendcd  deity.  Thouj;h 
aloe-beer  or  "puhiue"  was  allowed  for  feasts  aud  to  invalids  in 
moderation,  and  old  people  over  seventy  seem  to  be  represented 
in  one  of  the  picture-writings  as  having  liberty  of  drunkenness, 
youug  men  found  drunk  were  clubbed  to  death  and  young  womcu 
stoned.  Such  a  Draconian  standard  prevailing,  ii  is  hardly  needful 
to  enumerate  the  special  penalties  of  such  offcncd  as  witchcraft, 
fraud,  reuioviiig  landmarka,  adultery,  Stc.,  which  differed  aa  to 


MEXICO 


211 


whether  the  criminal  had  hia  heart  cnt  out  on  the  altar,  his  head 
crushed  between  two  stones,  &c.  ;  while  even  lesser  punishments 
were  harsh,  such  as  that  of  slanderers,  whose  hair  was  singed  with 
a  nine-torch  to  the  scalp.     ,      .  ^      ,  .      ,  j      -.i.    »i. 

Vii  Based   on   conquest  as  the  Ajitec  kingdom  was,  and  with  the 

cravin"  for  warlike  glory  fostered  by  the  most  bloodthirsty  religion 
the  world  ever  saw,  it  follows  that  the  nation  was  above  all  other 
pursuits  organized  as  a  fighting  community.  To  be  a  tried  soldier 
was  the  road  to  honour  4nd  office,  and  the  king  could  not  be  en- 
throned till  he  had  with  his  own  hand  taken  captives  to  be 
butchered  on  the  war-god's  altar  at  his  coronation.  The  common 
soldici-3  were  promoted  for  acts  of  daring,  and  the  children  of  chiefs 
wove  regularly  trained  to  war,  and  initiated  by  being  sent  into 
battle  with  veterans,  with  whoso  aid  the  youth  took  his  first  prisoner, 
but  Ilia  future  rise  depended  on  how  many  captives  he  took  un- 
aided in  fight  with  warlike  enemies  ;  by  such  feats  he  gained  the 
dignity  of  wearing  coloured  blankets,  tassels,  and  lip-jewels,  and 
reached  such  military  titles  as  that  of  "guiding  eagle."  The 
Mexican  military  costumes  are  to  be  seen  in  the  picture-writings, 
where  the  military  orders  of  princes,  eagles,  and  tigers  are  known 
by  their  braided  hair,  eagles'  beaks,  and  spotted  armour.  Tlio 
common  soldiers  went  into  battle  brilliant  in  savage  war-paint,  but 
those  of  higher  rank  had  helmets  like  birds  and  beasts  of  prey, 
armour  of  gold  and  silver,  wooden  greaves,  and  especially  the 
ichcapilli,  the  quilted  cotton  tunic  two  fingers  thick,  so  serviceable 
as  a  protection  from  arrows  tliat  the  Spanish  invaders  were  glad  to 
adopt  it.  The  archers  shot  well  and  witli  strong  bows,  though  their 
arrows  were  generally  tipped  only  with  stone  or  bone  ;  their  shields 
or  targets,  mostly  round,  were  of  ordinary  barbaric  forms  ;  the 
spears  or  javelins  had  heads  of  obsidian  or  bronze,  and  were  some- 
times hurled  with  a  spear-thrower  or  allatl,  of  which  pictures  and 
specimens  still  exist,  showing  it  to  be  similar  in  principle  to  those 
nsed  by  the  Australians  and  Eskimo.  The  most  characteristic 
weapon  of  the  Mexicans  was  the  maquahuill  or  "  hand-wood,"  a 
dub  set  with  two  rows  of  large  sharp  obsidian  flakes,  a  well- 
directed  blow  with  which  would  cut  down  man  or  horse.  These 
two  last-mentioned  weapons  have  the  look  of  highly-developed 
savage  forms,  while  on  the  other  hand  the  military  organization  was 
in  some  respects  equal  to  that  of  an  Asiatic  nation,  with  its 
regular  companies  commanded  each  by  its  captain  and  provided 
with  its  standard.  The  armies  were  very  large,  an  expedition  often 
consisting  of  several  divisions  each  numbering  eight  thousand  men, 
but  the  tactics  of  the  commanders  were  quite  rudimentary,  consist- 
ing merely  of  attack  by  arrows  and  javelins  at  a  distance,  gradu- 
ally closing  into  a  hand-to-hand  fight  with  clubs  and  spears,  with 
an  occasional  feigned  retreat  to  draw  the  enemy  into  an  ambuscade. 
Fortification  was  well  understood,  as  may  still  be  seen  in  the 
remains  of  walled  and  escarped  strongholds  on  hills  and  in  steep 
ravines,  while  lagoon-cities  like  Mexico  had  the  water  approaches 
defended  by  fleets  of  boats,  and  the  causeways  protected  by  towers 
and  ditches  ;  even  after  the  town  was  entered,  the  pyramid- 
temples  with  their  surrounding  walls  were  forts  capable  of  stubborn 
resistance.  It  was  held  unrighteous  to  invade  another  nation  with- 
out a  solemn  embassy  to  warn  their  chiefs  of  the  miseries  to  which 
they  exposed  themselves  by  refusing  the  submission  demanded,  and 
this  again  was  followed  by  a  declaration  of  war,  but  in  Mexico  as 
in  other  more  cnlturcd  countries  this  act  of  national  morality  degene- 
rated into  a  ceremonial  farce,  where  tribute  was  claimed  from  some 
neighbouring  nation,  or  an  Aztec  god  was  ofl"ered  to  be  worshipped 
in  their  temples,  in  order  to  pick  a  quarrel  as  a  pretext  for  an 
Invasion  already  planned  to  satisfy  the  soldiers  with  lands  and 
plunder,  and  to  meet  the  priests'  incessant  demands  for  more  human 
sacrifices. 

Beligion.  Among  the  accounts  of  the  Mexican  religion  are  some  passages 
referring  to  the  belieT  in  a  supreme  deity.  The  word  teotl,  god,  has 
been  thought  in  some  cases  to  bear  this  signification,  but  its  me.ining 
is  that  of  deity  in  general,  and  it.  fa  applied  not  only  to  the  sun- 
god  but  to  very  inferior  gods.  It  i-  related  that  Nezahualcoyotl, 
the  poet-king  of  Tezcuco,  built  a  nine-storied  temple  with  a  starry 
roof  above,  in  honour  of  the  invisible  deity  called  Tloquenahuaque, 
"he  who  is  all  in  himself,"  or  Ipalnemoan,  "he  by  whom  we  live," 
who  had  no  image,  and  was  propitiated,  not,  by  bloody  sacrifices,  but 
by  incense  and  flowers.  Those  who  adopt  the  opinion  of  Asiatic 
admixture  in  Mexican  culture  will  use  it  to  account  for  this  remark- 
able religious  phenomenon,  less  easily  accounted  for  by  native 
development,  while  also  the  appearance  of  a  rival  deity  of  evil, 
bearing  the  name  of  Tlacatecolotl,  or  "man-owl,"  is  mysterious. 
These  divinities,  however,  seem  to  have  had  little  or  no  place  in  the 
popular  faith,  which  was  occupied  by  polytheistic  gods  of  more 
ordinary  barbaric  type.  Tezcatlipoca  was  held  to  be  the  highest  of 
these,  and  at  the  festival  of  all  the  gods  his  footsteps  were  expected 
to  appear  in  the  flour  strewn  to  receive  this  sign  of  their  coming. 
He  was  plainly  an  ancient  deity  of  the  race,  for  attributes  of  many 
kinds  are  crowded  together  in  him,  and  he  was  ^  .ayed  to  in  inter- 
minable formulas  for  help  in  war  and  for  health  and  fortune,  to 
deliver  the  nation  from  a  wicked  king,  or  to  give  pardon  and  strength 
to  the  penitent  who  had  confessed  his  sins  and  been  purified  by  wash- 


ing. Between  him  and  Quetzalcoatl,  the  ancient  deity  of  Cholti]a, 
there  had  been  old  rivalry,  as  is  related  in  legends  of  Quetzalcoatl 
coming  into  the  land  to  teach  men  to  till  the  soil,  to  work  metals,  and 
to  rule  a  well-ordered  state  ;  the  two  gods  played  their  famous  match 
at  the  ball-game,  and  Tezcatlipoca,  in  the  guise  of  a  hoary-headed 
sorcerer,  persuaded  the  sick  and  weary  Quetzalcoatl  to  drink  the 
magic  pulque  that  sent  him  roaming  to  the  distant  ocean,  where 
he  embarked  in  his  boat  and  disappeared  from  among  men.  These 
deities  are  not  easily  analysed,  but  on  the  other  hand  Tonatiuh  and 
Metztli,  the  sun  and  moon,  stand  out  in  the  distinctest  personalis 
as  nature  gods,  and  the  traveller  still  sees  in  the  huge  adobe  |^aDii(& 
of  Teotih&acan,  with  their  sides  oriented  to  the  four  quarters,  an 
evidence  of  the  importance  of  their  worship.  The  war-god  Huitzilo- 
pochtli,  of  whom  one  legend  relates  a  supernatural  conception  in 
the  ancient  Tullan,  while  another  storj'  declares  him  to  have  been 
(like  the  Chinese  war-god)  a  deified  warrior-chief,  was  the  real  head 
of  the  Aztec  pantheon  ;  his  idol  remains  in  Mexico,  a  huge  block  o£ 
basalt  on  which  is  sculptured  on  the  one  side  his  hideous  personage, 
adorned  with  the  humming-bird  feathers  on  the  left  hand  which 
signify  his  n.ame,  while  the  not  less  frightful  war-goddess  Teoyao- 
miqui,  or  "divine-war-death,"  occupies  the  other  side.  Centeotl, 
the  goddess  of  the  all-nourishing  maize,  was  patroness  of  the  earth 
and  mother  of  the  gods,  while  Mictlanteuctli,  lord  of  dead-land, 
ruled  over  the  departed  in  the  dim  under-world.  Kumbers  of 
lesser  deities  presided  over  classes  of  society,  events,  and  occupations 
of  life,  such  as  Tlazolteotl,  goddess  of  pleasure,  worshipped  by 
courtesans,  Tezcatzoncatl,  god  of  strong  drink,  whose  garment  in  grim 
irony  clothed  the  drunkard's  corpse,  and  Xipe,  patron  of  the  golJ- 
smithi!.  Below  these  were  the  usual  crowd  of  nature-spirits  of  hills 
and  groves,  whose  shrines  ^yere  built  by  the  roadside  to  receive  oflTer- 
ings  from  passers-by.  The  temples  were  called  tcocalli  or  "  god's 
house,"  and  the  teocallis  of  the  greater  deities  rivalled  in  size 
as  they  resembled  in  form  the  temples  of  ancient  Babylon.  They 
were  pyramids  on  a  square  or  oblong  base,  rising  in  successive 
terraces  to  a  small  summit-platform.  The  great  teocalli  of 
Huitzilopochtli  in  the  city  of  Mexico  stood  in  au  immense 
square,  whence  radiated  the  four  principal  thoroughfares, 
its  courtyard  being  enclosed  by  a  square,  of  which  the  stone 
wall,  called  the  coatepantli  or  serpent-wall  from  its  sculptured 
serpents,  measured  nearly  a  quarter  of  a  mile  on  each  side.  In 
the  centre,  the  oblong  pyramid  of  rubble  cased  with  hewn  stone 
and  cemented,  375  x  300  feet  at  the  base,  and  rising  steeply  in  five 
teiTaces  to  the  height  of  86  feet,  showed  conspicuously  to  the  city 
the  long  processions  of  priests  and  victims  winding  along  the 
terraces  and  up  the  corner  flights  of  steps.  On  the  paved  platform 
were  three-story  tower  temples  in  whose  ground-floor  stood  the  stone 
images  and  altars,  and  before  that  of  the  war-god  the  green  stone  of 
sacrifice,  humped  so  as  to  bend  upward  the  body  of  the  victim  that 
the  priest  might  more  easily  slash  open  the  breast  with  his  obsidian 
knife,  tear  out  the  heart  and  hold  it  up  before  the  god,  while  the 
captor  and  his  friends  were  waiting  below  for  the  carcase  to  be 
tumbled  down  the  steps  for  them  to  carry  home  to  be  cooked  for  the 
feast  of  victory.  Before  the  shrines  reeking  with  the  stench  of 
slaughter,  the  eternal  fires  were  kept  burning,  and  on  the  platfonn 
stood  the  huge  drum  covered  with  snakes'  skin,  whose  fearfuj  sound 
was  heard  for  miles.  From  the  terrace  could  be  seen  seventy  or 
more  other  temples  within  the  enclosure,  with  their  images  and 
blazing  fires,  and  the  tzompantli  or  "skull-place,"  where  the  skulls 
of  victims  by  tens  of  thousands  were  skewered  on  cross-sticks  or 
built  into  towers.  There  also  might  be  seen  the  flat  circular 
temalacatl  or  "spindle-stone,"  where  captives  armed  with  wooden 
weapons  were  allowed  the  itockery  of  a  gladiatorial  fight  ngainst 
welfarmed  champions.  The  great  pyrataid  of  Cholula  with 
its  hemispherical  temple,  of  Quetzalcoatl  at  the  top,  now  an 
almost  shapeless  hill  surmounted  by  a  church,  was  about  thrico 
as  long  and  twice  as  high  as  the  teocalli  of  Mexico.  A  large 
fraction  of  the  Mexican  population  were  set  apart  as  priests  or 
attendants  to  the  services  of  the  gods.  The  rites  performed  were 
such  as  are  found  elsewhere,  prayer,  sacrifice,  processions,  dances, 
chants,  fasting  and  other  austerities,  but  there  are  some  peculiari- 
ties of  detail.  Prayers  and  other  formulas  have  been  copied  down 
by  Sahagun  and  other  chroniclers,  of  endless  prolLxity,  but  not 
without  occasional  touches  of  pathos.  The  following  are  a  few 
sentences  from  a  prayer  to  Tezcatlipoca,  interceding  for  the  poor: 
"O  our  lord,  protector  most  strong  and  compassionate,  invisible 
and  impalpable,  thou  art  the  giver  of  life  ;  lord  of  all,  and  lord 
of  battles,  1  present  myself  here  before  thee  to  sny  some  few  words 
concerning  the  need  of  the  poor  people,  the  people  of  none  estate  or 
intelligence.  .  .  .  Know,  O  Lord,  that  thy  subjects  and  servants 
sufi'er  a  sore  poverty,  that  cannot  be  told  of  more  than  thai 
it  is  a  sore  poverty  and  desolatencss.  The  men  have  no  garments 
nor  the  women  to  cover  themselves  with,  but  only  rags  rent  in 
every  part  that  let  the  wind  and  cold  in.  .  .  .  If  they  be  mer- 
chants, they  now  sell  only  cakes  of  salt  and  broken  pepper  ;  the 
people  that  have  something  despise  their  wares,  so  that  they  go  out  to 
sell  from  door  to  door  and  from  house  to  house  ;  and  when,  they  sell 
nothing  they  sit  down  sadly  by  some  fence,  or  waU,  or  in  some  comei^ 


212 


MEXICO 


licWftg  their  lips  and  gniwino.their  naija  for  tlio  binpf  th»t  u  in 
thom,  they  look  on  one  side  and  the  othefat  the  nouths  of  those  who 
jiass  by,  hoping  perad venture  that  one  may  speak  some  word  to  them. 
O  com  f  tauiiynutu  C'od,  the  bed  on  which  tnoy  lie  is  not  a  thing  to  rest 
npon,  but  to  endure  torment  in  ;  they  draw  a  rag  over  tlioin  at 
night  and  so  sleep.  .  jT.*  O  our  Lord,  in  whose  jjower  it  is  to  give 
alicoM  tent,  con.Hofationf;  sweetness,  softness,  prosperity,  and  riches,  for 
thou  alone  art  lord  of  all  good,  have  mercy  upon  them,  for  they  are 
thy  scrvantt.  ...  I  sHpi)licatc  thee  that  tnou  wilt  lift  up  their 
heads  with  thy  favour  ancl  aid,  that  thou  wilt  see  good  that  they 
enjoy  some  days  of  prosperity  and  tranquillity,  so^that  they  may 
sleep  and  knonr  repose,  having  prosperou-s  and  peaceable  d.iys  of 
life.  .  .  .  .Should  this  nation,  for  whom  I  pray  and  entreat  thee  to 
do  them  good,  not  understand  what  thou  hast  given,  thou  canst 
t».ke  away  the  good  and  pour  out  cursing,  so  that  all  evil  may  come 
upon  them,  and  they  become  poor,  in  need,  maimed,  lame,  blind, 
and  deaf  ;  then  indeed  they  shall  waken  and  know  the  good  that 
they  had  and  livive  not,  and  they  shall  call  upon  thee  and  lean 
toward  thjce;  but  thou  will  not  listen,  for  in  the  day  of  abundance 
they  would  not  understand  thy  goodness  towards  them."  The^o 
prayera  aeern  e.s.sentially  genuine  ;  indeed  there  waa  no  Europiean 
piodol  from  which  they  could  have  been  imitated ;  but  at  the  sumo 
time  it  mu.st  be  rememborod  that  they  come  down  in  Spanish  writ- 
ing, and  not  untouched  by  SpanLsh  iu'tiuenco,  as  in  one  passage 
where  there  It  a  mention  of  sheep,  an  animal  of  courseiiunknown  to 
the  native  Mexicans.  As  to  sacrilico,  maize  and  other  vegetables  were 
oifered,  and  occasionally  rabbits,  quails,  &.c. ;  but,  in  the  rbsence  of 
cattle,  human  eacriiiee  was  the  chief  rite,  and  cannibalism  prevailed 
at  the  feasts.  Incense  was  constantly  used,  ospocially  the  copalli 
(copal)  well  known  to  us  for  varnish ;  little  torra-cotta  censers  are 
among  the  commonest  of  Mexican  antiquities.  l*ong  and  severe 
religious  fasts  wore  customary  at  special 'seasons,  and  drawing  blood 
from  the  arms,  legs,  and  body,  by  thrusting  in  aloe-thorns,  and 
passing  sharp  sticks  through  the  tongue,  was  an  habitual  act  of 
devotion  recalling  the  similar  ])r.'ietices  of  devotees  in  I-idia.  The 
calendar  of  religious  festivals  for  the  whole  coiu^e  of  the  Mexican 
year  has  been  preserved.  Each  20-day  period  had  one  or  more 
such  celebrations.  In  the  month  of  the  "  diminishing  of  waters  " 
the  rain-gods  or  Tlalocs  were  propitiated  by  a  procession  of  priests 
with  music  of  flutes  and  trumpets  carrying  on  plumed  litters  infants 
with  paitit^-d  faces,  in  gay  clothing  with  coloured  paper  wings,  to 
bo  saerihcwl  on  tho  mountains  or  in  a  whirlpool  in  tno  lake.  It  is 
fiaid  that  tlie  people  wept  as  they  passed  by ;  but  if  so  this  may  have 
been  a  customarv  formality,  for  tno  religjon  of  these  nations  must' 
have  quenched  all  human  sympathy.  In  tlie  next  month  the  god 
Xipe-totec,  already  mentioned,  had  his  festival  called  the  "flaying  of 
men  "  from  the  human  victims  being  flayed,  after  their  hoarU  were 
torn  out,  for  young  men  to  dress  in  their  skin^  and  perform  dances 
and  sham  fights.  The  succeeding  festival  of  Camaxtli  was  marked 
by  a  severe  fast  of  the  priests,  after  whieh  stone  knives  were  pre- 
pared with  which  a  hole  was  cut  through  tho  tongue  of  each,  and 
numbers  of  sticks  passed  through.  For  tlie  great  festival  of  Tez- 
catlinoca,  tlio  handsomest  and  noblest  of  tho  'raptives  of  the  year 
.Tiad  oecn  chosen  as  the  incarnate  representative  of  the  god,  and 
paradcnl  the  .streets  for  public  adoration  dressed  in  an  embroidered 
mantle  witii  iValhcrs  and  garlands  on  his  head  and  a  retinue  like  a 
V\ng ;  for  the  last  month  they  married  him  to  four  girls  representing 
four  goddesses  ;  on  tho  last  day  wives  and  pages  escorted  him  to  tho 
little  temple  of  Tlncochcalco,  where  ho  mounted  the  stairs,  breaking 
an  carthenwai-e  flute  against  each  step;  this  was  a  symbolic  fare- 
well to  the  joys  of  the  world,  for  as  he  reached  the  top  ho  was 
seized  by  the  priests,  his  heart  torn  out  and  held  up  to  tho  sun, 
liis  head  spitted  on  the  tzompantli,  and  his  boily  eaten  as  sacred 
food,  the  pc'oplo  drawing  from  his  fate  tho  moral  lesson  that  riches 
and  pleasure  may  tirrn  into  poverty  and  sorrow.  Tho  manner  of 
the  victim's  death  in  these  festivals  afforded  scope  for  variety;  they 
dressed  thoni  and  made  them  daneo  in  character,  throw  them  into 
the  liro  for  tlie  fire-god,  or  crushed  them  between  two  balanced 
stones  at  the  harvest-festival.  Tho  ordinary  pleasures  of  festivals 
Were  mingled  "R-ith  all  this,  such  as  dances  in  boast-masks,  sham 
fights,  and  children's  games,  but  tho  type  of  a  religious  function 
was  n  sickening  butclicry  followed  by  a  cannibal  fea-st. 
Picture-  Tho  Mexican  priesthood,  being  the  educated  class,  were  much 
wiitiug  concerned  with  the  art  of  picture-writing,  which  they  had  developed 
to  a  stage  quite  above  tho  rude  figures  of  tho  American  huntirtg- 
tribes,  and  used  systematically  as  a  means  of  recording  religious 
festivals  and  legends,  as  well  as  keeping  calendars  of  years  and 
recording  the  historical  events  which  occurred  in  Ihcni.  Fac  Himilcs 
of  several  of  these  interesting  documents,  witJi  their  tianslatious, 
may  be  »m\  in  Kingsborough.  On  inspecting  these  it  will  be  .mcii 
that  their  main  ]iriuci])lo  is  ]>ictorial.  Clods  are  represented  with  their 
appropriate  attributes, — tho  fire-god  hurling  his  spear,  iho  moon- 
goddess  with  a  shell,  Jic. ;  the  scenes  of  human  life  are  pictures  of 
warriors  (ightiug  with  club  and  spear,  men  paddling  in  canoes,  women  | 
spinning  and  weaving,  &c.  An  in\portant  step  towards  phonetic 
writingappcai-s,  however,  in  the  picturonamcs  of  places  and  persons, 
'i'lic  siiriiilcat  fonns  of  ;hese  depict  the  objects  sigiliBed  by  the  name. 


as  where  Chapulupte ot  "grassboppcr-hill"  is  represented  by  BeratB. 
hoppr  ou  a  hilj,  or  a  stone  with  a  eactns  on  it  stands  for  Teruek 
or  '  stone-cactus,"  tho  founder  of  Tenochtillan.  ■  Tho  system  had, 
however,  risen  a  etago  beyond  this  when  objects  were  drawn 
to  represent,  not  themselves,  but  the  syllables  forming  their 
names,  as  where  a  trap,  an  eagle,  a  pricker,  and  a  hand  are  put  to- 
gether not  to  represent  these  objects,  but  in  order  that  the  syllable* 
of  their  names  mo-quauh-zo-ma  should  spell  the  word  Moguauh- 
zoiua  (see  Aubin's.  introduction  to  Brasseur,  Ilist.  du,  iUxiijue, 
vol.  L  y.  Ixviii.).  >  Tho  anelogj-  of  this  to  the  manner  in  which  tho 
Egyptian  hieroglyphs  passed  into  phonetic  signs  is  remarkable, 
and  writing  might  have  been  invented  anew  in  Mexico  had  it  not 
been  for  tho  Spanish  conquest.  The  Aztec  numerals,  which  «ir« 
vigesimal  or  reckoned  by  scores,  were  depicted  by  dots  or  cir  les 
up  to  20,  which  was  rem-cseiitcd  by  a  flag,  400  (a  score  of  scores) 
by  a  feather,  and  8000  (a  score  of  scores  of  scores)  by  a  purse  ;  bat 
for  convenience  these  symbols  might  be  halved  and  quartered,  so 
that  534  might  bo  shown  by  one  feather,  one  ijuarter  of  a  feather, 
ono  flag,  oue-half  of  a  fljig,  and  four  dots.  The  Jlexican  calendar 
depended  on  tho  combination  of  numbers  with  pictiiro-signs,  of 
which  the  four  principal  were  the  rabbit,  reed,  flint,  house — 
tocJitli,  acatl,  iecpatl,  calli.  The  cycle  of  62  years  was  recltoned  by 
combining  thoj^e  signs  in  rotation  with  numbers  up  to  13,  thus: — 
1  rabbit,  2  reed,  3  (lint,  4  house,  C  rabbit,  6  reed,  ic.  liy  accident 
this  calendar  may  be  exactly  illustrated  with  a  modern  pack  of 
cards  laid  out  in  rotation  of  the  four  suits,  as,  aco  of  hearts,  £  of 
spades,  3  of  diamonds,  4  of  clubs,  5  of  hcti-ts,  6  of  spades,  &c.  la 
the  Mexican  ritual  calendar  of  the  days  of  the  year,  the  same  method, 
is  carried  further,  the  series  of  twenty  day-signs  being  combined 
in  rotation  with  numbers  up  to  13  ;  as  this  cycle  of  days  only 
reaches  260,  a  series  of  nine  other  signs  are  aflixed  in  addition,  to 
make  up  the  365-day  year.  It  is  plain  that  this  rotation  of  signs 
8cr\'e<l  no  useful  purpose  whatever,  being  less  convenient  than 
ordinary  counting  such  as  the  Mexicans  employed  in  their  other 
calendar  already  mentioned,  where  the  20-day  periods  had  cacti  a 
name  like  our  months,  and  their  days  had  signs  in  regular  order.  It4 
historical  interest  depends  on  its  resemblance  to  the  caleudar-systtnj 
of  central  and  eastern  Asia,  where  among  Alongols,  Tibetaus, 
Chinese,  &c. ,  series  of  signs  are  thus 'combined  to  reckon  years, 
months,  and  days;  for  instance,  tho  Mongol  cycle  of  60  years  ia 
.recorded  by  the  zodiac  or  series  of  22  signs — mouse,  bull,  tiger,  A:c., 
combined  in  rotation  with  tho  five  male  and  femalo  elements — liro, 
cartli,  iron,  water,  wood;  as  "  malo-fire-buU "  year,  kc.  This 
comparison  is  worked  out  in  Iluniboldt's  Vues  'des  CordilUrea, 
as  evidence  of  Mexican  civilization  being  borrowed  from  Asia. 
Naturally  tho  Mexican  calendar-system  lent  itself  to  magic  in  tho 
same  way  as  the  similar  zodiac-signs  of  tho  Old  World,  each 
person's  fate  being  alfeoted  by  tho  qualities  of  tho  signs  be  waa 
txirn  under,  an<l  tlie  astrologer-priests  being  called  in  to  adriso  on 
every  event  of  life.  Of  all  Mexican  festivals  tho  most  solemn 
was  that  of  tho  xinhmolpilli^  or  "  year-binding,"  when  tho  62- 
year  cycle  or  buiullc  of  years  came  to  an  end.  It  was  bolioved 
that  tho  destruction  of  tho  world,  which  after  tho  Hindu  manuor 
tho  Mexicans  held  to  have  already  taken  place  three  or  four  times, 
would  happen  again  at  tho  end  of  a  cycle.  As  the  time  drow 
near,  the  ansious  i>opulation  chansed  their  houses  and  put  out  all 
fire,  and  on  tho  last  day  after  sunset  the  priests,  dressed  in  tho  garb 
of  gods,  set  out  in  procession  for  tho  hill  of  Huixachtla,  there  to 
wat<.h  for  tho  ajiproach  of  the  Pleiades  to  the  zenith,  which  gavo 
tho  auspicious  signal  for  tho  lighting  of  Uie  new  firo.  The  finest 
of  the  captives  was  thrown  down  and  fire  kindled  on  his  breast  by 
tho  wooden  drill  of  the  priest ;  then  iho  victims  heart  was  torn  out, 
and  his  body  flung  on  tho  pile  kindh-d  with  the  new  flame.  Tho 
people  watching  from  their  flat  housetops  all  tho  country  round 
saw  with  joy  the  flamo  on  the  sacnd  hill,  and  hailed  it  with  a 
thank -offering  of  drops  of  blood  drawn  from  their  ears  with  sharp 
stone-flakes.  Swift  runners  carried  burning  brands  to  rekindle  tho 
fires  of  the  land,  tho  sacred  firo  on  the  teocalli  of  tho  war-god 
blazed  up  again,  and  tho  people  began  with  feasting  and  rejoicing 
the  new  cycle. 

Mexican  education,  at  any  tato  that  of  the  upper  class,  was  a  Eduoa 
systematic  discipline  much  under  the  control  ol  religion,  which  tlon. 
hero  presents  itself  under  a  more  favourable  light.  After  tho 
birth  of  a  child,  the  tonalpouJiqiii  or  "sun-calculator"  drew  its 
horoscope  from  tlie  signs  it  was  born  under,  and  fixed  tho  time  for 
its  solemn  lustration  or  baptism,  performed  by  the  nurso  with 
appropriate  prayers  to  the  gods,  when  a  toy  shield  and  bow  wore 
provided  if  it  was  a  boy,  or  a  toy  spindle  and  ilistalf  if  it  was  a  girl, 
and  the  child  received  its  name.  An  interesting  picturo-writing,  to 
be  seen  in  Kingsborough,  shows  tho  details  of  the  boy's  and  girl's 
iducation,  from  tho  early  time  when  three  small  circles  overthe 
child  show  it  to  bo  three  years  old,  and  a  drawing  of  half  a  tortilla 
or  corn-cake  shows  its  allowance  for  each  meal ;  as  they  grow  older 
the  lads  are  aeon  beginning  to  carry  burdens,  paddlo  the  c&no^ 
and  fish,  while  the  girls  learn  to  spin  and  weave,  grind  maize,  and 
cook,— good  eonduet  being  enforced  by  nunisbments  of  increasing 
severity,  up  to  jiricking  their  bodies  .vitli  aloe  thorns  and  holdina 


MEXICO 


213 


iiiiliury  interesu.  Kor  was  the  wealth  and  luxury  of  Mexico  and  Art  wi^ 
surrounding  regions  without  i  correspondiii;;  development  of  art.  putimt 
The  stone  sculptures  sQchas  that  rAnainiiigof  Xochi^-aU'o,  which  is 
figured  by  Humboldt,  as  well  as  the  oniamenUd  woo<l«ork,  feather- 
mats,  and  vases,  are  not  without  artistic  inejiL  The  often-cited 
poems  attributed  to  Nezahualcoyotl  may  not  be  ijuilc  genuine,  but 
at  any  rate  jtoetry  had  risen  above  the  barbaric  level,  while  tho 
mention  of  ballads  among  the  [icople,  court  odes,  and  the  diants  of 
tcmplo  choirs  would  indicate  a  vocal  cultivation  above  iJiat  of  tlio 
instrumental  music  of  drums  aud  horns,  piita  and  whistles,  tlio 
latter  oftrn  of  pottery.  Solemn  and  gay  dances  were  frequent,  and 
a  sport  called  tho  birddaucc  excited  the  admiration  of  foreigners 
for  the  skill  and  daring  with  which  grouiis  of  jicrformH-s  dressed  as 
birds  let  themselves  down  by  ro|>es  wound  round  tho  top  of  a  high 
mast,  so  as  to  fly  whirled  in  arcles  far  above  the  ground.  The 
ball-game  of  tho  Mexicans,  called  thi<htU,  was,  like  tuiuLs,  the  \ai- 
time  of  princes  and  nobles  ;  si>ecial  courts  weio  built  for  it,  and  the 
ball  of  india-rubber  (pcrhajis  the  firet  object  in  which  Enroiwaus 
became  acquainted  with  this  valuable  material)  might  not  be  touched 
by  the  hands,  but  was  driven  a^'aiiist  the  walls  by  blows  of  the  knee 
or  elbow,  shoulder  or  buttock.  'I'ho  favourite  game  oCynlolli  has  beeii 
already  mentioned  for  its  similarity  to  the  yachUi  of  modem  India. 

The  accounts  given  by  Sjianish  writers  of  the  Central  Americans  Cestnl- 
iii  their  stato  after  tho  Sianish  conquest  are  verj-  scanty  in  com-  Ameiicai 
parison  with  the  voluminous  descriptions  of  Aztec  life.  Ihey  bring  cult««, 
out  iierfectly,  however,  the  fact  of  close  connexion  betweeji  Uie  two 
civilizations.  Some  Central-American  p.oplcs  «crc  actually  Jlcxicau 
in  their  language  and  culture,  csnecial'.y  the  PipiUof  Cuatcmala  and 
a  large  part  of  tho  jiopulation  of  iCiraragua,  but  tlicso  were  descend- 
ants of  Aztecs  or  allied  i«oplcs  who  in  the  comparatively  modern 
times  of  Aztec  power  invaded  and  colonized  tliesc  distant  countnes 
(see  Busdimann,  AiUk.  Ortsnai.ien,  viii.,  ix.).  With  regard  to  the 
Central-American  nations  proiwr,  especially  the  Mayas  of 'iucatan 
and  tho  Quiches  of  Guatemala,  who  dwelt  in  tlio  cities  and  wor- 
shipped in  the  temples  of  Chichen-Itza  and  XJxmal,  Falenque  aud 
Copan,  the  j.roblan  of  Aztec  connexion  is  deeiier  aud  obscurer. 
How  closely  related  these  nations  were  in  institutions  to  the 
Mexicans  appears,  not  only  in  their  using  the  same  peculiar  weaions, 
such  as  the  spear-thrower  and  tho  toothed  club  or  niaquahuill,  but 
in  the  similarity  of  their  religious  rites,  such  as  drawing  blood  from 
their  bodies  as  an  act  of  penance,  aud  sacrificing  human  victims  by 
cutting  open  tho  breast  and  tearing  out  the  heart;  the  connexior. is 
evident  in  such  special  points  as  the  ceremony  of  marriage  by  tying 
together  the  garments  of  the  couple,  or  in  hohling  an  offender's  face 
over  burning  chillis  as  a  punishment ;  the  native  legends  of  Central 
America  make  mention  of  the  royal  ball-play,  which  was  the  same 
as  the  Mexican  game  of  tJachtli  already  mentioned.  At  Uie  same 
time  many  of  tlie  Central-American  customs  dilTercd  from  the 
Mexican ;  thus  in  Yucatan  we  find  the  custom  of  the  youths  sleeping 
;ho  Europeans  to  prepare  the  beverage  chccollall ;  in  a  great  bachelor's  house,  an  arrangement  common  in  variou, 
passed  iito  Englfsh  'as  the  words  caSio,  or  cocoa,  parta  of  tho  worid.  b»t  not  in  Mexico  ;  the  same  "n^"''  8,^1.^  to 
ervecoUbles  adopted  from  Mexico  are  the  tomata  I  the  Maya  cxogamo.is  law  of  a  man  not  taking  a  OTfo  of  !»' o"= 

family  name  (see  Diego  do  Landa,  Hdacton  tit  i  itcatan,  ed. 
lirasseur  de  Bourbourg,  p.  140),  which  does  not  corie^iwnd  with 
Mexican  custom.  We  have  the  means  of  com|wring  the  i*i-sona^ 
ppearance  of  the  Mexicans  and  Central  Americans  by  tlicir  jior-, 


their  faces  oTer  burning  chillis.  The  schools  were  extensive  build- 
ines  attached  to  the  temples,  whore  from  an  early  age  boys  and 
L'irls  were  tau"lit  by  the  pnests  to  sweep  the  sanctuaries  and  keep  up 
the  sacred  fires,  to  fast  at  proper  seasons  and  draw  blood  for  penance, 
and  where  theyreceived  moral  teaching  in  long  aud  verbose  formulas. 
Those  fit  for  a  soldier's  life  were  trained  to  the  use  of  wcajKins 
and  sent  early  to  leani  tho  hardships  of  war ;  chUdrcn  of  crafuinen 
were  usually  Uught  by  their  fathers  to  follow  their  trade;  and  for 
the  children  of  nobles  there  was  elaborate  instruction  in  history, 
M  ■  licturewriting,  astrology,  religious  doctrines,  and  laws.  Marriages 
i^iia  ,ler«ndcd  much,  as  Ihcy  do  still  in  tho  East,  on  comparison  of  the 
horoscopes  of  tho  [wir  to  ascertain  if  their  birth-signs  were  com- 
patible. Old  women  wore  employed  as  go-betweens,  aud  the 
marri.ige  ceremony  was  conducted  by  a  priest  who  after  moral 
exhortations  united  tho  young  couplo  by  tying  their  gatnicnU 
to-ctli«r  in  a  knot,  after  which  they  walked  seven  times  round  the 
hi"  casting  inc^nso  into  it ;  afUr  tho  performance  of  the  mamage 
ceremony  tho  pair  entered  together  on  a,  four  days'  fast  and 
^'jaerals.  penance  before  the  marriage  was  comideted.  The  funeral  rites 
of  the  Mexicans  arc  best  seen  in  tho  ceremonies  at  the  death  of  a 
king.  The  corpse.laid  out  in  state  was  provided  by  the  priest  with 
a  jug  of  water  for  liis  journey,  and  with  bunches  of  cut  I>ai>er3  to 
pri-<  him  safely  through  each  danger  of  the  road— the  place  where 
th.;  two  mountains  strike  together,  the  road  guarded  by  the  great 
sinko  and  tho  great  alligator,  tho  eight  deserts  and  tho  eight 
hills;  they  gave  him  garments  to  protect  him  from  the  cutting 
wind,  and  buried  a  little  dog  by  his  side  to  carry  him  across  the 
nine  waters.  Then  the  royal  body  was  invested  in  the  mantles  of 
his  latrongods,  esi)ccially  that  of  tho  war-god,  for  Mexican  kings 
were  warriors  ;  on  his  faco  was  placed  a  mask  of  turquoise  mosaic, 
and  a  green  ehalchihuitostono  as  a  heart  between  his  lips.  In  older 
times  tho  dead  king  was  buried  on  a  throne  with  his  property  and 
(lead  attendants  round  him.  But  after  cremation  camo  in  a 
mourning  procession  of  servants  and  chiefs  carried  the  body  to  the 
funeral  pyre  to  be  burnt  by  tho  demon-dressed  priests,  after  which 
the  crowd  of  wives  and  slaves  were  exhorted  to  serve  their  lord 
faithfully  in  tho  next  world,  were  sacrificed  and  their  bodies  burnt 
Common  people  would  not  thus  be  provided  with  a  ghostly  retinue, 
but  their  simpler  funeral  ceremonies  were  as  far  as  they  went  similar 
to  those  of  their  monarch. 
Agricul-  The  staple  food  of  the  Mexicans  before  the  conquest  has  continued 
l«f»  and  with  comparatively  little  change  among  the  native  race,  and  has 
■ttti.1  even  been  adopted  by  thoso  of  European  blood.  Maize  or  Indian 
corn  was  cultivated  on  patches  of  ground  where,  as  in  the  Hindu 
jliiii,  the  trees  and  bushes  were  burnt  aud  the  seed  planted  in  the 
■oil  manured  by  the  ashes.  A  sharp-iwinted  planting  stick,  a 
wooden  shovel,  and  a  bronzo-bladcd  boo  called  a  coatl  were  tho 
eimplc  implements.  The  Mexicans  understood  digging  channels 
for  irrigation,  especially  for  tho  cultivation  of  the  cacahuatl,  from 
ivhich  they  taught  tho  Europeans  to  prepare  the  beverage  chocollall; 
these  native  names  passed  intoEngli: '  ''  - 
and  chocolate.  Other  vegetables  adop 

{tomatl)  aud  the  chUli,  used  as  flavouring  to  native  dishes.  Th 
inaize  was  ground  with  a  stone  roller  on  the  grinding  stone  or  nutlatl, 
still  known  over  Spanish  America  as  the  mdale,  and  the  meal  baked 
into  thin  oval  cakes  called  by  Aztecs  tUxcaUi,  and  by  Spaniards 


by  tapping  tho  great'aloe  before  flowe"ring  was  fermented   into      in  Central  America  to  an  extent  quite  beyond  any  such  habit  in 
"1   'r"ii".'»  \       t; ,  .,'•,,    __    ..,,.■    1...  .1..      Mexico.     It  is  from  the  ruined  cities  now  buiicU  in  the  l,eiilral- 


an   intoxicating  drink  about  tho  strength  of  beer,  iKtli,   by  the 

Pothing  S|«iniards  called  putqut.     Tobacco,  smoked  in  loaves  or  canc-pipcs 
<l  or  taken  as  snuff,  was  in  use,  especially  at  feasts.    It  is  related  that 
in  old  times  Mexican  clothing  was  of  skins  or  woven  aloe  and  palm 


kents.  fibre,  but  at  the  time  of  the  Conquest  cotton  was  largely  cultivated  has  no  so  Ud  evidence  ;  some  of  th  m  ""^ ''"«  ^'"""'^^Vv^?, 
■n  the  hot  lands,  spun  with  a  spindle,  aud  woven  in  a  rudimentary  doned  before  ho  conquest,  but  °'"'^"  J"?  ■"'  "^''^J, "'',°?  % 
loom  without  aslmttle  into  tile  inaitles  and  breechcloths  of  tho     ancestors  of  the  Indians  '^Ijo.now  build  their  mean  huts  and  D 


American  forests  that  we  gain  the  best  infonnatioM  as  to  the  nations 

built  them.     The  notion  sometimes  proiwundcil   that  these 

famous  cities  were  of  great  antiquity  and  the  work  of  extinct  nations 

■  em  may  have  been  alioady  aban- 

thcra  were  inhabited,  and  by  the 


I  and  skirts  of  the  women,  garments  otnn  of  I  their  patches  of 


MeUI- 
Inrlc 


of  a  reed-blowpipe  and  cast  them  solid  or- hollow,  and  were 
iilso  skilled  in  hammered  work  and  chasing,  as  some  fine  specimens 
remain  to  show,  though  the  famous  animals  modelled  with  gold  and 
silver  fur.  feathers,  aud  scales  have  disappeared.  Iron  was  not 
known,  but  copper  and  tin  ores  were  mined,  and  the  metals  com- 
bined into  bronze  of  much  the  same  alloy  as  in  the  Old  World,  of 
which  hatchet  blades  and  other  instruments  were  mode,  though 
their  use  had  not  superseded  that  of  obsidian  and  other  sharp  stone 
flakes  for  cutting,  shaWng,  &c.  iletals  had  passed  into  a  currency 
for  trading  purposes,  csjiecially  quills  of  gold-dust  aud  T-shaped 
pieces  of  copper,  while  cocoa-beans  furnished  small  change.  The 
vast  size  of  the  market-squares  with  their  surrounding  porticos,  and 
the  importance  of  the  caravans  of  merchants  who  traded  with  other 
■atioDS,  show  that  mercantile  had  risen  into  some  proportion  to 


round  the  relics  of  the  grander  life  of  theii 
ruins  through  the  districts  ol 
Honduras,  it  is  evident  that, 
e  nation,  but  of  two  or  more 
nations  had  tho  pi-cat  bond 
f'a  common  system  of  pictorial  or  written  characters.  One  speci- 
men of  a  Central-American  inscription  may  give  a  general  idea  ol 
them  all,  whether  it  be  from  the  sculptured  favade  of  a  temple 
sketched  by  Catherwood,  or  from  the  painted  dcerekiu  called  the 
Dresden  Codex  (reproduced  in  Kingsborough),  or  from  tho  chapter 
of  Diego  de  Landa  where  ho  professes  to  explain  and  translate  the 
characters  themselves.  These  consist  of  combiuatioiis  of  faces,  circles, 
lines,  ic,  arr.inged  in  compartmenU  in  so  complex  a  manner  tliat 
hardly  two  arc  found  alike.  How  they  conveyed  their  meaning, 
how  far  they  pictorially  represented  ideas  or  spelt  words  m  the 
different  languages  of  the  country,  is  a  question  not  yet  answered 
in  a  complete  way;  Landa's  description  (p.  ?20)  gives  a  table  of  ■ 
number  of  their  elemenU  as  phonetically  representing  letters  ol 
syllables,  but,  though  there  may  be  a  partial  truth  in  lus  rules,  the- 


214 


MEXICO 


are  too  insufficient  or  too  erroneous  to  serve  for  any  general  deciphci  - 
roent.  Most  of  what  has  been  written  on  this  enticing  subject  is 
worthless,  but  a  promising  attempt  has  been  made  by  E.  S.  Holden, 
who  has  analysed  tlie  combined  figures  into  tlieir  elementary  lines 
(First  Annual  Ecport  of  Bureau  of  Elhiwlogy,  Smithsonian  Insti- 
tution, Washington,  1881 ;  see  aho  Charencey,  'Melanges  de  Fhilologie- 
et  de  PaUugraphie  Americaines,  Paris,  1883).  One  point  as  to  the 
Central-American  characters  is  clear,  that  part  of  them  are  calendar- 
sigTis  recording  dates.  From  the  accounts  given  by  Landa  and  other 
writers  it  is  plain  that  the  Central-American  calendar,  recltoning 
the  year  in  twenty-eight  periods  cf  thirteen  days,  was  the  same  in 
its  principle  of  combining  signs  as  that  of  Mexico  hero  mentioned 
at  page  212.  The  four  leading  Maya  signs  called  kan,  muhic,  ix,  cuuac 
corresponded  in  their  position  to  the  four  Aztec  signs  rabbit,  reed, 
flint,  house,  but  the  meanings  of  the  Maya  signs  are,  unlike  the 
Aztec,  verj'  obscure.  A  remarkable  feature  of  the  Central-American 
ruins  is  the  frequency  of  truncated  pyramids  built  of  hewn  stone, 
with  flights  of  steps  up  to  the  temple  built  on  the  platform  at  top. 
The  resemblance  of  these  structures  to  the  old  descriptions  and  pic- 
tures of  the  Mexican  teocallis  is  so  striking  that  thi:)  name  is  habitu- 
ally given  to  them.  The  teocallis  built  by  the  Nahua  or  Mexican 
nations  have  been  mostly  destroyed,  but  two  remain  at  Huatusco 
and  Tusajian  (figured  in  Bancroft,  vol.  iv.  pp.  443,  45C),  which  bear 
a  strong  resemblance  to  those  of  Palenque.  On  the  whole  it  is  not 
too  much  to  say  that,  in  spite  of  differences  in  style,  the  best  means 
of  judging  what  the  temples  and  palaces  of  Mexico  were  like  is  to 
>>€  gained  from  the  actual  ruins  in  Central  America.  On  the  other 
hand,  there  are  features  in  Central-American  architecture  which 
scarcely  appear  in  Mexican.  Thus  at  Uxmal  there  stands  on  a 
terraced  mound  the  long  narrow  building  known  as  the  governor's 
house  (Casa  del  Gobemador),  322  feet  long,  39  feet  wide,  26  feet 
high,  built  of  rubble  stone  and  mortar  faced  with  square  blocks  of 
etone,  the  interior  of  the  chambers  rising  into  a  sloping  roof  formed 
by  courses-of  stonework  gradually  overlapping  in  a  "false  arch.'' 
The  same  construction  is  seen  in  the  buildings  forming  the  sides  of 
a  quadrangle  and  bearing  the  equally  imaginary  name  of  the 
nunnery  (Casa  de  Monjas);  the  resemblance  of  the  interidr  of  one 
of  its  apartments  to  an  Etruscan  tomb  has  often  been  noticed  (see 
Fergusson,  History  of  Architecture,  vol.  i.  ;  VioUet-le-Duc,  in 
Charnay).  Attempts  to  trace  the  architecture  of  Central  America 
to  direct  derivation  from  Old-World  types  have  not  been  successful, 
while  on  the  other  hand  ilsdecorationshowsproofof  original  inven- 
tion, especially  in  the  imitations  of  woodwork  which,  as  the  above- 
mentioned  arcliitects  have  pointed  out,  passed  into  sculptured 
ornament  when  the  material  of  construction  became  stone  instead 
of  wood.  Thus  the  architectural  remains,  though  they  fail  actually 
to  solve  the  historical  problem  of  the  high  culture  of  the  nations 
round  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  throw  much  light  on  it  when  their 
evidence  is  added  to  that  of  religion  and  customs.  Whether  Mexican 
civilization  was  a  barbaric  copy  of  that  which  flourished  in  the  now 
deserted  Central-American  cities,  or  whether  the  nations  who  built 
these  cities  themselves  raised  to  a  higher  level  a  civilization  derived 
from  Mexico,  two  things  seem  probable, — first,  that  the  civilizations 
of  Mexico  and  Central  America  were  pervaded  by  a  common  influence 
in  religion,  art,  and  custom  ;  second,  that  this  common  element 
shows  traces  of  the  importation  of  Asiatic  ideas  into  America. 

Among  works  of  reference  on  tlie  ancient  history-  and  civilization  of  Mexico 
and  Central  America  may  be  mentioned  H.  B.  Bancroft,  T^e  Native  Races  t(f  the 
Paxific  States  o/  North  America,  London,  1S75-6  (contjilns  the  most  complete 
Biimraary,  witli  references  to  original  autlioritics) ;  Brasgcur  de  Bourbourg, 
Uistoire  des  Nations  Civilise'es  dtt  Merioue  et  de  I' Am^rique-Centrale.  Parij, 
1867-59  (a  valuable  coiiecUon  of  materials.'but  the  author's  own  views  are  mostly 
fnncifu]);  Prescott,  History  of  the  Conquest  of  Mexico;  Clavlgero,  Eloria  Antica 
tlel  Mesttco,  Cesena,  1780  {contains  the  substance  of  earlier  writers,  such  as 
Gomrra,  Torqnemada,  AcosCa,  Bottu'lni,  &c.).  For  special  topics: — Lord  Kings- 
borough,  Antiquities  of  Mexico,  London,  1831^8  (contains  facsimiles  and  Inter- 
pretations of  plctare-^vritings,  the  native  chronicles  of  Ixtlllxochltl  and  Tciczo- 
moc,  a  reprint  of  Sahagun  Ac.);  A.  von  Humboldt,  Viies  des  Cordiltires,  et 
iionttmens  des  Peuples  Indigenes  de  rAm&iqite,  Paris.  1816  (Mexican  civilization, 
plctare-wrltlng,  calendar,  itc.).  Travels  and  descriptions  of  antltfuitles,  Ac: — 
Dnpaix  (in  Klngsborongh) ;  C,  Ncbel.  Viqje  Pintoresco  y  Arqueoidgico  sobre  la 
Rejnibtica  Mtjteana,  Paris.  1839;  F.  de  Waldeck,  Voyage  Pittoresgue  tt  Arehifo- 
togiqne  dans  la  Province  d  Yucatan,  Paris,  1838,  and  Palengu^ et  Aulres  Jiuines, 
Paris,  1866 ;  D.  Charnay,  Cites  et  Rutnts  A mertcaines,  avec  textc  par  ^'loilet-le■Doc, 
Paris,  1863;  J.  L.  Stephens,  Incidents  oj  Travel  in  Central  America,  Ac,  Now 
York,  1841;  Incidents  of  Travel  in  Yucatan,  New  York,  18&8;  Brantz  Mayer, 
Mexico,  New  York,  18M;  Tylor,  Anahuac,  or  Mexico  and  the  Mexieani,  London, 
18«1.  *c  (E,  B.  T.) 

II.  THE  REPUBLIC  OF  MEXICO. 

Mexico,  Aztec  Mexitli  '  (^stados  Unidos  de  Mexico), 
is'  a  federal  republic  in  Noi  th  America,  bounded  N.  by 
the  United  States  (California,  Arizona,  and  New  Mexico), 
E.  by  Texas  and  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  S.  by  Guatemala  anil 

*  In  this,  asinallother  AztecnanK  .  the  a:  terj)  represents  the  English 
soand  sk;  hence  Mexitli  and  Mexi  o  should  be  properly  pronounced 
Mtskitli,  Meskico.  But  they  do  nol  appAr  to  have  ever  been  so  pro- 
noonced  by  the  Spaniards,  who  naturally  gave  to  the  x  its  ordinary 
Bpanish  soimd  ol  the  Gtmian  ch. 


British  Hondura-s,  where  the  boundary  lines  are  still  partly 
undetermined,  W.  by  the  Pacific  Ocean.  Lying  between 
33°  and  15°  N.  lat.  and  87°  and  117°  W.  long.,  Mexico 
stretches  about  1950  miles  in,rth-north-west  and  south- 
Bouth-east,  with  a  mean  breadth  of  400  miles,  varying 
from  about  1000  in  26°  N.  to  130  at  the  narrowest 
part  of  the  Tehuantepec  isthmus.  It  has  a  coast^line  of 
nearly  6000  miles, — about  iSOO  on  the  Pacific  and  1600 
on  the  Atlantic.  The  seaboard  is  little  varied  either 
by  deep  inlets,  bold  headlands,  broad  estuaries,  or  large 
islands.  On  the  west  side  are  the  vast  Gulf  of  California, 
in  outline  somewhat  resembling  the  Bed  Sea,  and  so  named 
by  some  of  the  early  navigators,  and  the  open  Bay  of 
Tehuantepec,  besides  the  smaller  inlets  of  Acapulco  and 
San  Bias,  forming  two  of  the  finest  harbours  in  the  world, 
and  almost  the  only  safe  ones  in  the  republic.  On  tlie 
east  side  the  coast  is  mostly  beset  by  lagoons  and  sand- 
banks, with  no  good  havens,  Camp^che,  Vera  Cruz,  Tampico, 
and  Matamoras  being  all  little  better  than  open  roadsteads 
exposed  to  the  fierce  "  nortes,"  or  north-easterly  gales,  that 
sweep  the  Gulf  of  Mexico  for  a  gTeat  part  of  the  year.  Of 
headlands  the  most  prominent  are  Capes  S.  Lucas  and 
Palmas  at  the  south  e.\tremity  of  Lower  Cahfornia,  Oor- 
rientes  south  from  San  Bias,  and  Catoche  in  the  north- 
east of  Yucatan.  Besides  this  peninsula,  which  projects 
north-north-east,  the  only  other  's  that  of  Lower  California, 
which  projects  south-south-east  parallel  to  the  mainland. 
The  islands  are  few  in  number,  and  all  of  insignificant  size, 
the  most  noteworthy  being  Tiburon  and  Angel  de  la  Quarda 
in  the  Gulf  of  California,  the  uninhabited  Eevillagigedo 
group  in  the  Pacific,  and  Cozumel  off  the  Yucatan  coast. 
Mexico  comprises  altogether  twenty -seven  confederate 
states,  one  territory,  and  the  Federal  District,  with  areas, 
populations,  and  chief  towns  as  under  :'^ — 


States. 

Area  in 
Square 
Miles. 

Popula- 
(18S0). 

Capital. 

Popula- 
(1877-80). 

E 
1 

< 
t 

Sonora 

81,022 
105,295 
61,050 
14,363 
28,659 
2r,«3 
12,716 
26,083 
32,658 
25,927 
48,967 
2,393 
21,609 
51.226 
27.389 
16,769 
42,643 
26,585 
2,210 
28,889 
11,1.10 
3,429 
8,480 
9,598 
1,898 
11,761 
1,498 
84 
59,033 

139,140 
180,758 
104,131 
194,861 
144,747 
604,970 

93,.'i87 

86,299 
286,384 
167,093 
994,900 

65,827 
648.857 
308,716 
718,194 
219,735 
190,846 
413,6M 
140,430 
506,799 
788,202 
179,915 
434,096 
696.038 
164,94« 
704,372 
133,498 
8M,S40 

23,196 

9,700 
12,116 
11.340 
16,300 
■»,800 
12,400 
6,800 
15,190 
32,000 
7,878 
78,600 
23,872 
20,400 
3,600 
26,228 
8,500 
27.119 
32,000 
31,871 
34,300 
(6,113 
27,660 
12,500 
12,700 
16.320 
64,588 
4.300 
241,110 
2,396 

Tamaullpas, 

Cludad  victoria  ... 

San  Juan  Ilaulltta. 

/Slnaloa « 

Culiacan 

Colir.ia 

Oajaca 

Oajaca 

San  Cristobal  

Durango  

Agnaa  Callentes..... 
San  LuisPotosi.... 

Guanajuato 

Queietoro 

Mexico 

PoffLral''ni«('H'/-'t 

Lower     California    ) 
(Tenltorj) f 

La  Paz 

:  63,804 

9,577,279 

Since   the  appearance   of   A.    von    Humboldt's   classic  Pbydeat 
work  on  ^ew  Spain,  as  Mexico  was  called  in  the  colonial  featnrm. 
times,  this  region  has  continued  to  be  regarded  as  forming  PlatMos 
a  main  link  in  the  vast  chain  supposed  to  stretch  across  "g^. 
the  entire  length  of   the  American  continent  from  Cape  ^^jj^ 


*  These  figures,  in  the  ftl'sence  of  scientific  surveys  and  a  trust- 
T^orlhy  census,  .ire  necessarily  more  or  less  approximate.  The  areas 
are  those  of  Ripley  and  Dana,  based  on  A.  Garcia  Cuba's  Carta  ffeo- 
grafca  (Mexico,  1874);  the  populations  of  the  states  and  capitals  ar» 
the  estimates  cf  'Gniiliano  Busto  in  his  Estadistica  -U  la  kepulHca 
Mrxicana  (Mexico,  USU)-  A  writer  iii  the  Time  of  December  7, 
1882,  estimate;!  the  whole  population  at  12,000,001/,  much  too  high  s 
fieri  re. 


il  E  X 

Horn  to  Behring's  Strait.  But  more  recent  research,  and 
especially  the  surveys  made  by  the  French  staff  during  the 
military  operations  between  1S61-67,'  have  shown  that 
this  grand  generalization  must  be  abandoned.  In  remote 
geological  epochs  a  marine  channel  seems  to  have  flowed 
between  the  northern  and  southern  sections  of  the  New 
World  at  the  isthmus  of  Panama,  while  Mexico  itself 
appears  to  be  mainly  a  distinct  geographical  region 
of  relatively  recent  upheaval.  Here  there  nowhere  exists 
a  continuous  mountain  range,  to  which  might  properly  be 
applied  the  designation  "Cordillera  of  the  Andes,"  an 
expression  which  in  any  case  is  not  current  north  of  the 
isthmus  of  Tehuantepec.  Mexico  forms,  on  the  contrary, 
a  vast  tabl&-land,  somewhat  in  the  shape  of  a  cornucopia, 
\ritli  its  narrow  end  tapering  to  the  south-south-cast,  its 
convex  and  concave  sides  facing  the  Pacific  and  Atlantic 
respectively,  and  with  a  general  inclination  northwards. 
Most  of  the  so-called  Cordilleras  are  merely  the  "  cumbres  " 
or  escarpments  of  this  plateau,  which  falls  abruptly  towards 
the  Atlantic,  and  through  a  series  of  well-marked  terraces 
(formerly  lacustrine  basins)  towards  the  Pacific.  Thus  the 
carriage  road  from  the  capital  runs  in  tolerably  easy  stages 
successively  through  the  Tetla  (8000  feet),  Mescala  (5500), 
Papagallo  (1800),  and  Peregrino  (IGOO)  valleys  down  to 
Tepes  within  40  miles  of  the  seaport  of  San  Bias.  But 
the  southern  central  plateau  of  Anahuac  maintains  its  mean 
elevation  of  7000  to  8000  feet  almost  everywhere  to  within 
35  or  40  miles  of  the  Atlantic.  Hence  the  railway  opened 
in  1872  between  Vera  Cruz  and  the  capital  has  had  to  be 
carried  by  tremendously  steep  gradients  to  a  height  of 
nearly  8000  feet  within  a  total  distance  of  263  miles." 
The  general  but  gradual  northerly  tUt  of  the  table-land  is 
shown  by  the  altitudes  of  the  capital,  Durango,  Chihuahua, 
and  Paso  del  Norte  on  the  United  States  frontier,  which 
are  respectively  7600,  6630,  4600,  and  3800  feet. 

At  the  same  time  the  scarps  rise  in  many  places  con- 
siderably above  the  mean  level  of  the  plateau,  which  is 
itself  intersected  and  broken  into  a  number  of  secondary 
valleys  by  several  short  cross  ridges,  generally  following 
the  normal  direction  from  north-north-west  to  south-south- 
east. The  most  continuous  range  is  the  Sierra  Madre  of 
the  Pacific,  which  may  be  traced  at  a  mean  elevation  of 
over  10,000  feet  from  Oajaca  to  Arizona,  and  which  from 
Guadalajara  to  the  northern  frontier  is  crossed  by  no 
carriage  route.  Parallel  to  this  is  the  Lower  CaJifomian 
range  (Sierra  de  la  Giganta,  3000  feet),  which,  however, 
falls  abruptly  eastwards,  like  the  Atlantic  escarpments. 
The  Califomian  peninsula  seems  to  have  been  detached 
from  the  mainland  when  the  general  upheaval  took  place 
which  produced  the  va^t  chasm  now  flooded  by  the  Gulf 
of  California.  Corresponding  with  the  Sierra  Madre  of 
the  Pacific  on  the  west  are  the  more  interrupted  eastern 
scarps  of  the  central  plateau,  which  sweep  round  the  Gulf 
of  Mexico  as  the  Sierras  Madres  of  Nuevo-Leon  and 
Tamaulipas  at  an  elevation  of  about  6000  feet.  These  are 
crossed  by  the  carriage  routes  from  Tula  to  Tampico 
(highest  pass  4820  feet),  from  Saltillo  to  Monterey  (3400), 
and  at  several  other  points. 

Of  the  central  cross  ridges  the  most  important  orogra^ 
phically  and  historically  is   the   Cordillera  de  Aiiahnac,^ 


ICO 


215 


'  The  results  of  these  surreys  are  embodied  in  the  Carte  du  itexique, 
scale  1  : 3,000,000,  published  at  Paris  in  1873. 

'  In  the  steepest  parts  the  mean  is  2-51  in  100,  or  133J  feet  to  the 
mile.  The  eiact  elevation  of  the  capital  above  the  sea  at  Yera  Cruz 
appears  to  be  7550  feet,  or  80  more  than  Humboldt's  estimate. 

•  The  term  AnahuaCy  meaning  in  Aztec  "  near  the  water,"  seems  to 
bave  been  criginallj-  restricted  to  the  central  lacustrine  basin  of 
TenochtitlaQ.  But  when  the  Aztecs  reached  both  oceans  they  extended 
it  to  the  Pacific  coast  between  Tututepec  and  Guatemala  (Anahuac- 
(Ayotlan),  and  to  the  Atlantic  coast  between  the  Alvarado  and 
TabaKO  rivers  (Auahuac-Xicalanco).     The  original  use  of  the  word  is 


which  surrounds  the  Mexican  (Tenochtitlan)  and  Puebl.i 
valleys,  and  which  is  supposed  to  culminate  with  Popo- 
catepetl (17,853  feet)  and  Ixtaccihuatl  (15,705).*  But 
these  giants  belong  to  a  different  or  rather  a  more  recent 
system  of  igneous  upheaval,  nmning  from  sea  to  sea 
between  18°  59'  and  19°  12'  N.  in  almost  a  straight  line 
east  and  west,  consequently  nearly  at  right  angles  to  the 
main  axis  of  the  central  plateau.  The  line  is  clearly 
marked  by  several  extinct  cones  and  by  five  active  or 
quiescent  volcanoes,  of  which  the  highest  is  Popocatepetl, 
lying  south  of  the  capital  nearly  midway  between  the 
Pacific  and  Atlantic.  East  of  this  central  point  of  the 
system  are  Citlaltepetl,  better  known  as  the  Peak  of  Orizalia 
(17,176  feet),  70  miles  inland,  and  San  Martin  or  Tuitla 
(9708  feet)  on  the  coast  south  of  Vera  Cruz,  to  which 
correspond  on  the  west  the  recently  upheaved  Jorullo 
(4000  feet)  in  Michoacan,  Colima  (12,800)  near  the  coast 
in  Jalisco,  and  the  volcanic  EeviUagigedo  group  iu  the 
Pacific.  South  of  this  line,  and  nearly  parallel,  are  the 
Sierras  of  Guerrero,  and  south  of  the  Tehuantepec  isthmus 
those  of  Oajaca  and  Soconusco  towards  the  Gnateiuala 
frontier.  In  the  same  direction  run  the  islands  of  Cuba 
and  Hayti,  which  probably  belong  to  the  same  Central- 
American  system. 

Mexiijo  is  thus  physically  connected  through  its  older 
plateau  formations  with  the  North-American  table-lands, 
and  through  its  more  recent  volcanic  upheavals  with  the 
Central-American  igneous  region.  But  as  it  advances 
northwards  this  region  loses  in  imderground  energy ;  hence, 
notwithstanding  the  remarkable  upheaval  of  Jorullo  in 
1759,  the  Mexican  cones  show  little  signs  of  activity,^  and 
the  land  is  now  scarcely  ever  wasted  by  violent  earth- 
quakes. Such  phenomena  are  most  frequent  in  the  Puebla 
valley ;  but,  although  often  accompanied  by  the  peculiar 
underground  rumblings  known  as  hramidos,  they  are 
seldom  of  a  destructive  character.  The  natives  speak  of 
them  rather  as  iemblores,  or  "tremblings,"  than  true 
ierremotos.'' 

In   a  region  where   lofty   ranges  and   plateau  forma-  Hydro, 
tions  with  steep  escarpments  approach  almost  everywhere  grapby 
to  within  a  few  miles  of  the  coast,  little  space  is  left  for 
the  development   of   large   river   basins.      Most   of   the 
streams  are  little  more  than   mountain  torrents   rushing 
impetuously  from  terrace  to  terrace  seawards.     Many  also 


still  current  amongst  the  natives  as  practicilly  synonymous  wth 
Centi-al  Mexico.  As  a  strictly  geographical  expression  it  is  vaguely 
and  often  incorrectly  used  by  modem  writers. 

*  This  elevation  is  based  on  the  calculations  of  Humboldt,  Glennie, 
and  Gerolt  ;  but  in  1857  S^nntag  assigned' an  extreme  height  of  over 
17,000  feet  to  the  highest  peak  of  Ixtaccihuatl.  Popocatepetl  is  usually 
supposed  to  be  the  highest  point  of  North  America  ;  but  the  recent 
United  States  surveys  have  transferred  this  honour  to  Slount  Elias  on 
the  Alaska  coast,  which  appears  to  be  certainly  over  19,000  feet  high. 

'  Popocatepetl  emits  smoke,  whence  its  name,  meaning  in  Aztec 
"Smoking  Mountain,"  irQmj)0})oca  "to  smoke,"  and  tepell  "  moun- 
tain." Since  the  conquest  three  eruptions  have  been  reported  (1519, 
1539,  1540) ;  but  the  geological  evidence  seems  to  indicate  that 
there  has  been  no  volcanic  action  for  thousands  of  years.  Orizaba, 
whose  native  name  means  "Star  Mountain,"  has  been  quiescent  since 
1566.  Colima  still  frequently  ejects  ashes  and  smoke;  but  both 
Jorullo  and  Tuxtla  are  quiescent,  the  last  having  been  silent  since  the 
violent  eruption  of  March  2,  1793.  Even  the  Mal-pays,  or  hot  dis- 
trict round  Jorullo,  has  cooled  down,  and  is  now  again  clothed  with 
vegetation. 

"  It  is  notewortny  that  the  seismic  waves  flow  normally  along  ths 
indicated  line  from  east  to  west,  thereby  confirming  Humboldt's  view 
that  under  about  19°  N.  there  is  a  deep  rent  in  the  earth's  crust, 
through  which  at  different  periods  the  underground  fires  have  broken 
at  various  points  between  the  Gulf  of  Mexico  and  the  Revilla* 
gigedo  group.  "Only  on  the  supposition  that  these  volcanoes,  which 
are  on  the  surface  connected  by  a  skeleton  of  volcanic  rocks,  are  also 
united  under  the  surface  by  a  chain  of  volcanic  elements  in  continual 
activity,  may  we  account  for  the  earthquakes  which  in  the  direction 
mentioned  cause  the  American  continent,  from  the  Gulf  of  Mexico  to 
the  Pacific  Ocean,  to  oscillate  at  the  same  time  "  (Egloffistein,  p.  37). 


216 


MEXICO 


flow  through  the  profound  rocky  gorges  or  barrancas,  as 
they  are  here  called,  which  form  a  characteristic  feature  of 
the  Mexican  table-lands.^  On  the  east  side  some  of  these 
barrancas,  here  running  mostly  west  and  east,  attain  depths 
of  800  to  1000  feet  in  "Ihe  unfossiliferous  limestones  of 
that  region;  and  even  on  the  west  coast  the  De  Beltran 
canon  is  flanked  by  sheer  rocky  walls  over  500  feet  high. 
Hence  the  rivers  are  almost  useless  for  irrigation  purposes, 
and  available  as  means  of  communicatioo  only  for  short 
distances  in  their  lower  reaches,  where  they  flow  through 
the  narrow  alluvial  strips  of  level  coast-lands  to  the  sea. 
Even  the  Rio  Grande  del  Norte,  which  is  by  far  the 
largest,  and  which  forms  the  frontier  line  between  Mexico 
and  Texas,  is  navigable  by  large  vessels  only  for  a  few 
miles  above  its  port  of  Matamoras.  The  Eio  Grande  de 
"Santiago,  the  largest  on  the  Pacific  side,  is  almost  every- 
where obstructed  by  falls  and  rupids.  On  this  coast  the 
next  in  importance  is  the  Mercala,  or  Eio  de  las  Balsas, 
which,  like  the  Panuco,  Alvaredo,  Coatzacoalas,  Grijalva, 
and  Usumacirita  flowing  to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  is  subject 
to  sudden  freshets  during  the  rains. 

At  this  season  the  waters  which  find  no  seaward  outlet 
are  collected  in  the  depressions  of  the  plateaus,  where 
extensive  tracts  remain  flooded  for  several  months  at  a 
time.  But  these  lacustrine  basins  of  the  Anahuac  and 
Chihuahua  table-lands,  standing  at  elevations  of  from  4000 
to  7000  feet,  are,  by  evaporation  under  semi-tropical  suns, 
rapidly  reduced  to  their  normal  level.  The  diminished 
size  of  the  Anahuac  lakes  shows  that  since  the  conquest  a 
steady  process  of  desiccation  has  been  going  on,  due  prob- 
ably to  the  reckless  destruction  of  the  upland  forests  by 
the  European  settlers.  None  •  of  these  lakes  are  of  great 
teize  except  Lake  Chapala,  which  is  traversed  by  the  Rio 
Grande  de  Santiago,  and  has  a  reputed  area  of  about  1300 
square  miles.  Amongst  those  of  the  plateau  especially 
noteworthy  for  their  magnificent  scenery  are  Tezcuco  and 
Chalco,  in  whose  sparkling  waters  are  reflected  the  sur- 
rounding volcanic  peaks  and  extinct  craters  of  the  Anahuac 
table-land,  with  a  background  formed  by  the  Cordilleras, 
whose  snowy  summits  rise  here  and  there  high  above  the 
dark  pine  forests  of  the  lower  slopes. 

In  the  higher  ranges  the  prevailing  formations  are 
granites,  which  seem  also  to  form  the  foundation  of  the 
BJnarals.  plateaus,  above  which  rise  the  traps,  basalts,  mineral- 
bearing  porphyries,  and  more  recent  lavas.  Hence  LyeU'^ 
theory  that  Mexico  consisted  originally  of  granitic  ranges 
with  intervening  valleys  subsequently  filled  up  to  the  level 
of  the  plateaus  by  subterranean  eruptions.  Igneous  rocks 
of  every  geologic  epoch  certainly  to  a  large  extent  form  the 
superstructure  of  the  central  plateau.  But  the  Mexican 
table-land  seems  to  consist  mainly  of  metamorpldc  forma- 
tions, which  have  been  partly  upiheaved,  partly  inter- 
penetrated and  overlaid  by  igneous  masses  of  all  epochs, 
and  which  are  chiefly  represented  by  shales,  grejrwacke, 
greenstones,  silioious  schists,  and  especially  unfossihferous 
limestone.  All  these  formations  are  alike  remarkable  for 
the  abundance  and  variety  of  their  metalliferous  ores,  such 
as  silver,  silver-glance,  copper,  and  gold.  Gneiss  and 
micaceous  schists  prevail  in  Oajaca  and  on  all  the  southern 
slopes  facing  both  oceans.  But  the  highest  ranges  are 
formed  mainly  of  plutonic  and  volcanic  rocks,  such  as 
granites,  syenites,  diorites,  mineral-bearing  trachytes, 
basalts,  porphyries,  obsidian,  pearlstone,  sulphur,  pumice, 
lavas,  tufa,  and  other  recent  volcanic  discharges.  Obsidian 
(ilztli)  was  the  chief  material  formerly  used  by  the  natives 

'  "  Near  tlie  niouritaia  ranges,  from  which  the  water  after  heavy 
raina  rusliea  do\vn  in  ianumerablo  forest  stream.^,  these  ravines  are 
ftlled  with  incredible  rapidity  as  hifih  as  80  feet,— the  torrent  importing 
(ric)  trees  and  bearing  away  rockj  with  a  thimdering  noise  and 
'nosistiblo  power  "  (Egiolfetein,  p.  22). 


in  the  manuiacture  of  their  cutting  implements,  as  shown 
by  the  quarries  of  the  Cerro  d^  las  Navajas  ("  Knife  Cliff  ") 
near  Zimapan.  Vast  deposits  of  pumice  and  the  purest 
sulphur  are  found  at  Huichapa  and  in  many  of  the  craters.' 
But  immeasurably  the  most  valuaVjle  rocks  are  the 
argentiferous  porphyries  and  schists  of  the  central  plateau 
and  in  Sinaloa,  unless  they  are  destined  to  be  rivalled  by  the 
auriferous  deposits  of  Sonora.^  Horizontal  and  stratified 
rocks,  of  extremely  limited  extent  in  the  south,  are  largely 
developed  in  the  northern  states,  and  chalk  becomes  very 
prevalent  towards  the  Rio  Grande  and  Eio  Gila  valleys. 
To  this  chalk  and  to  the  sandstones  are  probably  to  be 
referred  the  sandy  plains  which  cover  vast  tracts  in  North 
Mexico,  stretching  thence  far  into  New  Mexico  and  Texas. 
Here  the  Bolson  de  Mapimi,  a  vast  rocky  wilderness 
inhabited. only  by  wild  tribes,  occupies  a  space  of  perhaps 
50,000  square  miles  in  Coahuila  and  parts  of  the  surround- 
ing states. 

None  of  the  horizontal  layers  seem  to  be  very  rich  in 
ores,  which  are  found  mainly  in  the  metamorphic,  palaeozoic, 
and  hypogene  rocks  of  Durango,  Chihuahua,  and  the  south. 
Apart  from  Sinaloa  and  Sonora,  which  are  now  known  to 
contain  vast  stores  of  the  precious  metalf,  nearly  all  the 
historical  mines  lie  on  the  south  central  plateau  at  eleva- 
tions of  from  5500  to  9500  feet.  A  line  drawn  from 
the  capital  to  Guanajuato,  and  thence  northwards  to 
the  mining  tovra  of  Guadalupe  y  Calvo  in  Chihuahua, 
and  southwards  to  Oajaca,  thus  cutting  the  main  axis 
of  upheaval  at  an  angle  of  45°,  will  intersect  probably  the 
richest  known  argentiferous  region  in  the  whole  world. 
The  central  group  of  mines  in  the  three  mineral  districts 
of  Guanajuato,  Zacatecas,  and  Catorze  (San  Luis  Potosi), 
which  have  yielded  more  than  half  of  all  the  silver  hitherto 
found  in  Mexico,  lie  between  21°  and  24°  30'  N.,  within  an 
area  of  about  13,000  square  miles.  Here  the  Veta  Madre 
lode  of  Guanajuato  alone  produced  .£504,000  between 
1556  and  1803,  besides  £10,000  of  gold.  This  metal, 
however,  occurs  chiefly,  not  on  the  plateau  in  association 
with  sUver,  but  on  the  slopes  facing  the  Pacific,  and 
apparently  in  greatest  abundance  in  Sonora,  near  the 
auriferous  region  of  New  California.  In  recent  times  over 
half  of  the  silver  produced  in  the  whole  world  has  been 
supplied  by  Mexico,  and  the  total  yield  of  the  precious 
metals  between  1537  and  1880  was  as  under  :' — 


Gold. 

SUver. 

Total. 

1537  to  1821 

1821  to  1880 

Total       .     ... 

£14,000,000 
•  10,000,000 

£418,000,000 
180,000,000 

£432,000,000 
190,000,000 

£21,000,000 

£598,000,000 

£622,000,000 

Of  other  minerals  the  most  important  are  copper,  found 
in  a  pure  state  near  the  city  of  Guanajuato,  and'  associ- 
ated with  gold  in  Chihuahua,  Sonora,  Guerrero,  Jalisco, 

2  On  the  general  character  and  distribution  of  the  igneons  formation* 
Von  Egloflstein  remarks:  "Intimate  relations  exist  between  the 
metalliferous  and  non-metalliferous  rorphyriesi.  The  metalliferous  por- 
phyry is  less  frequent,  but  constitutes  the  most  important  formation, 
bearing  the  precious  metals,  .  .  .  embr,wing  the  rich  lodes  of  Real-del- 
Monte,  Pachuca,  Chico,  Capula,  and  Santa  Rosa,  all  of  great  richness 
and  magnitude.  They  further  form  the  mineral  districts  of  Augan- 
gnco,  Oro,  Iliiautla,  &c.,  and  part  of  the  mountains  of  Zimapan  and 
Istapa-delOro.  The  lodes  found  in  this  porphyry  are  charactcriied 
by  their  magnitude  and  the  consisti'ncy  of  the  ores  they  contain.  .  .  . 
The  richest  ores  of  native  silver  and  sulpliurct,  chloride,  and  oiido  of 
silver  are  found  in  the  lodes  of  Rcaldel-Monte,  Pachuca,  and  S«nt« 
Rosa.  .  .  .  The  gold  seems  to  exist  in  small  particles  in  the  met»- 
moqihic  porphyry  mountains,  whence  it  is  carrieii  by  the  nuns  to  the 
vallovs  as  the  locks  become  disintegrated  "  (pp.  0-8). 

>  Time^  correspondent,  December  7,  1882.  Guanajuato  seems  to  be 
still  the  greatest  producer,  yielding  from  £1,500,000  to  £1,750  000 
yearly,  although  the  grtat  Valcnciana  mine  is  Hoodod,  anil  of  tho  han- 
dred  opened  only  fifty-two  am  now  worked  (Geigcr). 


[ICO 


MEXICO 


21T 


Miohoacan,  and  elsewhere;  iron  in  immense  masses  in 
Michoacan  and  Jalisco,  and  in  Duiango,  where  the  Cerro 
del  Mercado  is  a  solid  mountain  of -magnetic  iron  ore ;  lead 
associated  with  silrer,  especially  in  Oajaca;  tin  in 
Michoacan  and  Jalisco ;  sulphur  in  many  craters ;  platinum 
recently  found  in  Tlaxcala  and  Hidalgo;  cinnabar  al»o 
rtcently  in  Morelos  and  Guerrero ;  "  steppe  salt "  in  the 
sandy  districts  of  the  north;  "bitter  salt"  at  Tepeyac; 
coal  in  limited  quantities  at  various  points ;  bismuth  in 
many  parts;  marble,  alabaster,  gypsum,  and  rock-salt  in 
great  abundance  throughout  the  plateau  and  the  sierras.  In 
1882  there  were  open  altogether  569  mines  : — 541  silver, 
14  gold,  4  copper,  4  lead,  3  salt,  2  coal,  and  1  mercury.^ 
mHiB  Intersected  about  midway  by  the  Tropic  of  Cancer, 
*,"*^  and  stretching  across  seventeen  parallels  of  latitude, 
Mexico,  from  its  position  alone,  necessarily  enjoys  a  great 
diversity  of  climate.  But  from  its  peculiar  configuration 
this  feature  is  affected  far  more  by  the  relief  of  the  land 
than  by  its  distance  from  pole  or  equator.  This  is  especi- 
ally true  of  the  more  fertile  and  populous  section  lying 
within  the  torrid  zone,  where  three  distinct  climatic  regions 
are  distinguished,  not  according  to  their  horizontal,  but 
according  to  their  vertical  position.  The  temperature 
falling  steadily  with  the  elevation  of  the  land,  which  here 
rises  rapidly  from  sea-level  to  nearly  18,000  feet  above 
the  surrounding  waters,  the  low-lying  coast-lands,  up  to 
about  3000  feet  on  the  scarps  and  terraces  of  the  central 
plateau,  are  comprised  within  the  first  zone  of  tierras 
calientes,  or  "hot  lands."  Within  this  zone  are  included 
all  the  sandy  and  marshy  tracts  fringing  the  Gulf  of 
Mexico,  the  lower  slopes  facing  eastwards  and  exposed  to 
the  hot  and  moist  winds  from  the  Caribbean  Sea,  and  most 
of  Yucatan  and  the  Tehuantopee  isthmus,  besides  the 
narrow  strip  between  the  uplands  and  the  Pacific  which 
broadens  northwards  along  the  east  side  of  the  Gulf  of 
California.  Here  the  mean  temperature  varies  from  77° 
to  82°  Fahr.,  seldom  falling  below  60°,  but  often  rising  to 
105°,  and  in  the  sultry  districts  of  Vera  Cruz  and  Acapulco 
to  110°.  The  extreme  north-western  parts  of  this  region 
come  almost  withLu  the  rainless  zone,  and  the  Califomian 
peninsula  itself- is  subject  to  excessive  droughts,  rendering 
it  almost  uninhabitable.  But  farther  south  the  climate 
on  both  seaboards  may  be  described  as  humid,  hot,  and 
extremely  unhealthy,  especially  for  Europeans.  Yellow 
fever  and  black  vomit  are  here  endemic.  But  these 
scourges  are  at  least  compensated  by  a  magnificent  tropical 
vegetation  and  extensive  virgin  forests  abounding  in 
valuable  timbers,  dyewoods,  and  medicinal  and  other 
useful  plants.  Of  the  114  species  of  trees  and  cabinet 
woods,  17  of  oil-bearing  plants,  and  over  60  of  medicinal 
plants  and  dyewoods  indigenous  to  Mexico,  and  often 
differing  specifically  from  kindred  varieties  in  Central 
and  South  America,  by  far  the  larger  part  are  repre- 
sented in  the  tierras  calientes.  Amongst  the  most  im- 
portant  of  these  forest  plants  are  mahogany,  rosewood, 


•  Loreozo  Castro,  MtxUo  in  1882.  According  to  this  anthority  tho 
total  yield  ef  the  Mexican  mines  between  1637  and  1880  was 
£776,278,000,  while  another  estimate  based  on  a  report  of  the 
Mexican  mint  gives  it  at  £930,786,000.  Of  this  a  large  amount  has 
been  coined  in  Mexico,  where  there  were  eleven  mints  at  work  in  1876, 
with  a  total  annual  yield  of  about  £5,000,000.  The  total  coinage 
Bince  the  conquest  has  been  estimated  as  high  as  £600,000,000,  not 
more  than  5  per  cent  of  this  being  gold.  With  regard  to  coal,  the  ex- 
istence of  which  in  Mexico  has  been  recently  denied  by  Mr  Bigelowin 
Sarper'i  Magazine,  official  returns  for  1882  give  a  list  of  over  twenty 
places  where  it  has  been  found,  though  nowhere  as  yet  in  large  quan- 
tities. Petroleum  also  appears  to  be  very  abundant  in  several 
localities.  Amongst  other  natural  products  mention  should  be  made 
of  amber,  found  on  the  Yucatan  coast  Mineral  springs  are  very 
namerous  everywhere  on  the  plateaus  and  terrace-lands.  The  most 
famous  are  El  PeCon  and  N.  SeSora  de  Gnadelupe  near  the  capital, 
and  Aguas  Calientes  farther  north. 

io— 10* 


copal,  caucho  (india-rubber),  jalap,  sarsaparilla,  and  vanilla 
Here  also  maize,  supplying  the  staple  food  of  the  people, 
yields  prodigious  returns,  multiplying  froin  two  hundred 
to  four  hundred  fold,  and  affording  two,  three,  and  even 
four  successive  crops  within  the  year.  Rice,  indigo,  c6tto«i, 
tobacco,  and  coffee  all  thrive  well,  while  sugar,  cocoa,  the 
banana,  and  several  varieties  of  beans  are  largely  cultivated. 
The  tobacco  of  Vera  Cruz  and  Tabasco,  the  coffee  of  Colima, 
and  the  cocoa  of  Oajaca  and  Chiapas  are  of  unrivalled 
excellence. 

To  the  "hot  lands"  succeed  in  vertical  position  the 
tierrax  templadas,  or  "temperate  lands,"  which  comprise 
all  the  higher  terraces  and  the  central  plateaus  themselves 
between  about  3000  and  8000  feet.  With  a  mean  tempera- 
ture of  from  62°  to  70°  Fahr.,  and  oscillating  between 
such  moderate  extremes  as  60°  and  86°,  this  region  enjoys 
one  of  the  very  finest  climates  on  the  globe.  The  Puebla 
and  Anahuac  table-lands  are  described  by  enthusiastic 
travellers  as  "terrestrial  Edens,"  with  a  perennial  spring 
symbolized  by  the  evergreen  oak,  cedars,  and  many 
analogous  plants,  which  here  attain  their  greatest  perfec- 
tion. The  transition  from  the  lower  zone  is  often  very 
gradual ;  and,  while  epidemic  fevers  cease  altogether  at 
altitudes  of  2700  and  2800  feet,  the  tropical  flora  invades 
many  parts  of  the  terrace  lands,  and  even  of  the  plateaus 
to  heights  of  4000  and  5000  feet.^  A  certain  uniformity 
is  thus  imparted  to  the  Mexican  landscape  by  the  wide 
lange  of  the  maize,  wheat,  tobacco,  vine,  coffee,  and  other 
plantations,  as  well  as  by  the  palms,  evergreens,  mango, 
olive,  orange,  lemon,  yucca,  and  an  endless  variety  of  the 
cactus  family,  one  species  of  which  forms  hedges  20  feet 
high  on  the  Anahuac  uplands.  The  central  zona  is  on  the 
whole  drier  than  the  southern  lowlands,  although  the 
scarps  facing  seawards  are  often  wrapped  in  the  fogs  and 
mists  of  the  intercepted  moisture-charged  atmospheric 
currents.  The  heaviest  recorded  rainfall  (90  to  100  inches) 
occurs  in  the  healthy  Huatusco  district  of  Vera  Cruz,  at 
an  altitude  of  4380  feet. 

In  the  highest  zone  of  tierrca  frias,  or  "  cold  lands," 
embracing  all  the  highlands  from  about  8000  feet  upwards, 
the  rainfall  is  five  times  less  than  on  the  tierras  templadas. 
Hence  snow  rests  throughout  the  year  only  on  the  four 
most  elevated  peaks  of  Popocatepetl,  Orizaba,  Nevada  de 
Toluca  (15,000  feet),  and  Ixtaccihuatl.  Characteristic 
both  of  the  tierras  frias  and  templadas  is  the  maguey 
{Agave  mexicand),  whose  fruit  is  edible,  and  whose 
fermented  juice  has  from  time  unmemorial  supplied  the 
famous  pulque,  or  national  beverage  of  the  Mexicans. 
From  the  fibre  of  the  heniquen,  an  allied  species,  is  pro- 
duced the  "  Sisal  hemp  "  of  commerce,  which  has  in  recent 
years  become  the  staple  export  of  Yucatan. 

Speaking  generally,  the  four  seasons  are  clearly  marked 
north  of  28°  N.  lat.  only.  South  of  that  parallel  they 
merge  in  the  estacion  de  las  aguas,  or  rainy  season,  from 
May  to  October,  and  the  estacion  seca,  or  dry  season,  which 
prevails  for  the  rest  of  the  year.  The  rains  generally 
begin  on  the  east  coast,  gradually  moving  westwards.  In 
the  Pacific  the  moist  atmospheric  currents  are  deflected 
northwards,   whence   the   striking   contrast  between  the 


2  On  the  Amilpas  plateau,  which  stretches  south  of  Popocatepetl  at 
a  mean  height  of  5000  to  5400  feet,  "  coffee,  sugar,  and  indigo  ai-e  culti- 
vated, and  most  of  the  tropical  fruits  grow  luxuriantly  "  (Egloffstein, 
p.  17).  Tho  same  authority  gives  the  limits  of  vegetation  in  this 
region  at  12,614  feet,  and  the  snow.line  at  14,960  feet.  He  observea 
that  "  nothing  is  more  surprising  to  the  traveller  than  the  varieties  of 
climate  under  this  zone,  which  vary  according  to  the  different  elevations 
above  the  sea.  In  a  few  hours  we  descended  from  the  cold  regions  of 
the  fir  and  the  oak,  on  the  heights  of  Ozumba,  to  a  hot  climate,  tierra 
calicnte,  where  we  found  the  most  luxuriant  vegetation,  passing  ia 
that  short  time  through  successive  changes  of  the  most  diversified 
species  of  trees,  plants,  birds,  insects  "  (p.  22). 


21« 


MEXICO 


wooded  filopeb  of  Briti^  Coltunbia  and  the  treeless  crests 
of  the  arid  Lower  Califomian  peninsiila. 
Fauna.  In  ita  fauna  no  less  than  in  its  flora  Mexico  fonns 
a  land  of  tranaition  between  North  a,nd  Central  America. 
In  coDimon  with  the  north  it  has  several  Tarieties  of  the 
bear,  the  ivolf,-  coyote,  skunk,  bison,  squirrel,  beaver, 
marten,  otter,  rattlesnake,  heloderm,^  mocking-bird,  and 
many  wild  fowl ;  while  its  monkeys  (five  species),  puma, 
jaguar,  ocelot,  sloth,  tapir,  alligators  (two  species),  iguana, 
boa,  scorpions,  tarantulas,  and  numerous  brilliantly  coloured 
naiTots,  trogona,  and  humming-birds  connect  it  with  the 
routhem  regions.  Peculiar  to  Mexico,  and  distinguishing 
il.  from  most  tropical  and  subtropical-  lands,  are  its  song- 
•^ters,  of  which,  besides  the  mocking-bird  (zeuzontl),  as 
many  as  twenty  species  have  been  enumerated.  The 
coasts  are  well  supplied  ■with  fish  and  turtles,  while  the 
pearl  fisheries  of  the  Gulf  of  California  continue  to  be  a 
source  of  wealth  to  that  otberwiae  unproductive  territory, 
yielding  in  1875  pearls  to  the  value  of  iil6,000,  and 
£28,000  worth  of  shells.  All  the  European  domestic 
animals  thrive  well,  and  vast  herds  of  cattle,  horses,  and 
<»heep  are  found  on  the  well-stocked  ranchos  of  the 
northern  states.  Hore  some  of  the  more  prosperous 
breeders  own  from  twenty  to  thirty  thousand  head  of 
oxen,  and  next  to  the  precious  metals  hides  and  cattle 
are  among  the  chief -articles  of  export. 
Agricul-  ^^^  i^  t^®  south  stock-breeding  yields  everywhere  to 
ture.  agriculture  as  the  chief  occupation  of  the  people.  Being 
largely  volcanic,  the  soil  Is  here  extremj^y  fertile  wherever 
water  can  be  had  in  sufficient  quantities  for  irrigation 
purposes.  Next  to  mai^e,  which  with  beans  and  chilli 
forms  the  almost  exclusive  food  of  the  Indians,  the  most 
important  crop  is  probably  sugar,  of  which  over  60  million 
pounds  are  annually  produced  in  the  state  of  Morelos  alone. 
Coffee  is  extensively  cultivated  on  the  lower  slopes,  and 
now  exported  in  considerable  quantities,  especially  to  the 
United  States.  The  tobacco  and  cotton  crops  are  yearly 
increasing  in  importance,  while  from  the  maguey  Ls 
extracted,  besides  pulque,  a  spirit  called  mezcal  to  the 
annual  valufe  of  about  £750,000,  The  aborigines  are 
partly  employed  as  free  labourers  on  the  plantations,  and 
partly  hold  small  plots  liable  to  a  light  Government 
tax.  The  food  crops  thus  raised  were  valued  in  1873 
at  £14,500,000,  the  agricultural  produce  at  £30,000,000, 
and  the  landed  property  at  £85,000,000,  but  the  last 
item  was  estimated  by  the  minister  of  finance  at  fully 
,  three  times  that  sum,     Tho  value  of  arable  freehold  land 

was  .stated  in  1882  to  be  from  £1  to  £3  per  acre,  accord- 
ing to  its  proximity  to  or  remoteness  from  rivers. 
Indua-  Of  the  industries  strictly  so  called,  those  directly  connected  with 

tries.  agricultural  interests  have  alone  acquiied  any  considerable  develop- 
ment. Such  are  sugar  refining,  carried  on  on  a  vast  scale,  especi- 
ally in  Moroloa  ;  brev/iiig  and  distilling,  chiefly  from  maguey;  paper- 
mikinff  from  various  pulps  and  fibres  ;  grist-mills  and  saw-mills, 
especially  in  Puebla,  Queretaro,  Guadalajara,  and  SaltiUo.  A  fevr 
iron  foundries  have  been  at  work  for  some  years,  and  stout  hand- 
woven  cotton  and  woollen  fabrics  are  produced  in  many  of  the  largo 
towns.  The  rebozos  (shawls)  of  Leon  and  Salvaticrra  have  a  wide 
repute,  while  Texcoco  and  Puebla  are  noted  for  their  porcelain  and 
glass-ware.  Among  the  petty  industries  are  clay  and  rag  jSgures, 
artificial  flowers,  wooden  toys,  and  gold  filigree  work,  in  the  produc- 
tion of  which  tho  natives  often  display  remarkable  taste  and  skill. 
Trade.  But  all  these  manufactured  warns  are  solely  intended  to  supply 

tho  local  wants,  so  that  the  exports  have  hitherto  been  restricted 
almost  exclusively  to  the  produce  of  the  land  and  of  the  mines. 
Of  the  former  the  chief  items  are  coffee,  Sisal  hemp,  tobacco, 
hides,  lumber,  cochineal,  indigo,  and  other  dyes,  Barsaparilla, 
vanilla,  orchil,  india-rubber.  But  the  precious  metals  still  continue 
to  constitute  fully  two-thirds  of  all  tho  exports,  which  in  1882  had 
a  total  estimated  value  of  about  i,'G,*O0,OOO.      In  the  same  year  an 


^  A  specimen  of  tliis  curious  creature,  tbo  only  known  venomous 
lizard  (Ileloderma  suspeciicm),  reached  the  London  Zoological  Gardens'in 
1882;  its  habitat  is  the  north  of  Mexico,  and  New  Mexico,  ArL2ona, 
and  Texas. 


equal  sum  represented  tbo  imports,  the  lesdinff  items  of  which  were 

cotton,  linen,  liilk,  and  woolhii  goods,  metals,  nardware,  machinery, 
nnd  provijiona.  Althorgh  diplomatic  and  conaular  relations  with 
Great  BrilaJn  have  been  suspended  since  1867,  that  country  still 
continues  to  enjoy  by  far  the  largest  share  of  the  foreign  trade, 
taking  about  £2, 000, 000, of  tho  exports,  and  sending  in  return 
about  two-thirds  of  all  the  imports, 'for  1882.  Next  in  importance, 
in  descending  order,  is  the  trade  with  the  United  States,  France, 
Gennaiiy,  Spain,  and  Columbia. 

Probably  four-fifths  of  the  exclianges  now  pass  through  Vera 
Cruz,  which,  since  tho  opening  of  the  railway  to  the  Anahuac 
plateau,  has  become  tho  natural  out-port  of  the  capital  and  all  the 
central  states.  It  ia  connected  by  several  lines  of  o.:ean  steamers 
with  Liverpool,  Southampton,  St  Nazaire,  and  the  Atlantic  States 
Of  North  America.  On  the  Pacific  seaboard,  where  the  trade  ia 
largely  in  German  hands,  Acapulco  and  the  other  ports  also  enjoy 
regular  steam  communication  with  San  Francis;.o  and  Panama.  No 
accurate  returns  are  available  of  the  shipping ;  but  the  yearly 
arrivals  in  all  the  Mexican  ports  are  stated  to  arer?.gp  about  five 
thousand, — not  more  than  one-fifth  under  the  national  flag. 

Till  recently  the  means  of  iutemal  locomotion  were  mainly  Corn- 
limited  to  the  wretched  bridle-paths  from  the  central  plateau  over  nionica-' 
the  sierras  and  terrace-lands  down  to  a  few  points  on  both  coasts,  tion. 
and  to  twenty-four  regular  lines  of  diligences  under  one  manage- 
ment. But  since  the  completion  of  the  lino  from  Vera  Cru2  to  tlie 
capital,  with  a  branch  to  Puebla,  tho  Mexican  railway  system  has 
acquired  a  considerable  development.  The  Intcr-Oceanic  line  across 
the  Tehuantepec  isthmus  ia  in  progress  ;  the  Great  Central  Trunk 
line  running  northwar'l.i  through  Chihuahua  ^iU  ero  lon^  effect  a 
junction  with  the  North- Americm  net-work;  and  at  the  end  of  1S82 
there  l^ad  been  opened  tff  traflSc  altogether  2219  mi'i'^s.  For  that 
year  the  number  of  passengers  carried  wi^  8,250,CC0,  and  of  mer- 
chandisa  27J  million  tons,  with  net  earnings  £C40,000,  or  ^CSOO  per 
mile.  Still  more  developed  is  the  telegraph  system,  which  is  now 
extended  to  all  the  state  capitals,  and  through  the  Mexico-Mata- 
moras  line  to  ihe  United  States  and  the  rest  of  the  world.  The 
8150  miles  open  in  1SS2  forwarded  750,000  messages,  or  in  the 
proportion  of  8  per  100  inhabitants. 

For  tho  aaniQ  year  the  estimated  revenue  was' £6,140,000,  nniuu^ 
and  expenditure  £6,300,000.  The  foreign  debt  is  stated  to  be 
£19,600;000,  and  the  internal  about  £10,000,000,  or  altogether  at 
the  rate  of  £3  per  head  of  the  population.  Most  of  the  foreign 
debt  is  owned  in  England,  but  tne  British  claims  had  long  been 
practically  repudiated  by  the  Mexican  Government.  At  the  end  of 
1882,  however,  a  semi-official  suggestion  was  made  that  a  settle- 
ment might  be  effected  by  Mexico  paving  1  per  cent,  on  the 
capital  for  the  first  ten  years,  2  for  the  second,  and  3  there- 
after,  the  whole  sum,  amounting  to  £16,000,000,  to  bo  liquidated 
in  fifty  years.-  The  revenue  is  chiefly  derived  from  the  customs, 
and  about  £1,750,000  of  the  expenditure  is  absorbed  by  the  army, 
the  peace  footing  of  which  is  22,500  men  of  all  arms.  Beyond  a 
few  coastguard  steamers  maintained  mainly  for  revenue  purposes^ 
there  is  no  navy.  An  indication  of  finan-.ial  improTement  ia 
afl*orded  by  the  establishment  in  1882  of  the  Mixxan  National  Bahk 
by  a  French  company  with  a  capital  of  £4,000,000.  This  bank  is 
jirivileged  to  issue  paper  money'up  to  £12,000,000,  in  i-etum  allow- 
ing the  supreme  executive  to  overdraw  their  account  up  to 
£2,000,000.  A  further  symptom  of  revival  is  presented  by  the 
increasing  business  of  the  general  post-office,  which  in  1880 
forwarded  4,406,000  letters  and  packages  through  873  offices. 

Education  also  has  made  marked  progress  sinco  the  finwl  £.!aca- 
separation  of  church  and  state  in  1S57.  In  that  year  the  old  ti  jil 
university  of  Mexico,  a  purely  ecclesiastical  institution  alter  tho 
model  of  Ssdamanca  and  the  Soroonne,  was  abolished,  or  rather  waa  re- 
placed by  special  schools  of  law,  medicine,  letters,  agriculture,' mines, 
sciences,  fine  arts,  and  commerce,  and  a  military  college.  These, 
as  well  as  numerous  lower  schools,  including  two  hundred  in  the 
capital  alone,  are  all  maintained  by  the  state,  while  national  schools 
are  supported  by  public  grants  in  all  the  largo  towns,  and  higher 
institutions  in  the  capitals  of  tho  several  states.  There  are 
in  all  nearly  five  thousand  public  schools,  besides  establishments 
for  the  deaf  and  dumb,  the  olind,  and  juvenile  delinquents,  and 
Eumi-rous  charitable  foundations  maintained  by  voluntary  contri- 
butions. 

Roman  Catholicism,  which  und-'r  the  Spanish  rulo  w.aa  alone  BcligioD. 
tolerated,  continued  after  the  separation  to  be  the  stato  rvlimon 
till  1857.  Since  then,  while  all  cburehes  enjoy  equal  protection, 
none  are  officially  recognized.  The  great  majority  of  the  Indim 
fidehs,  mestizoes,  and  credos  still  adhere  at  least  outwardly  to  the 
Koniau  Church,  which  is  administered  by  a  hierarchy  of  three  arch- 
bishops (Mexico,  Morelia,  and  GuadulajaraJ  and  twelve  bishopa. 
But  by  the  organic  laws  of  1856  and  1859  all  ecclesiastical  estates, 
at  one  time  comprising  over  one-third  of  tho  soil,  were  nationalized. 


-  This  advance  towardfl.A.«ettlemcnt  was  put  forward  in  the  Tv>o 
Repvblict  of  December  6,  1832,  a  Mexican  Journal  which  refleott' 
the  views  of  the  Oovemmect  on  all  matters  of  foreign  policy. 


MEXICO 


219 


the  ngulof  clergy  suppressed,  anJ  their  monasteries,  together  with 
all  otlicr  suiierfluous  ecclesiastical  structures,  appropriated  by  the 
state.  During  .the  last  few  years  American  Protestant  missions 
have  claimed  some  partial  success,  and  the  so-called  "  Church  of 
Jesus,"  nn  undenominational  body  of  a  somewhat  original  type, 
has  found  a  number  of  adherents,  especially  on  the  Anahuac  table- 
land. But  the  Indios  bravos,  or  uncivilized  abori^nes,  everywhere 
follow  the  old  spirit  worship,  while  the  Christianity  of  the  Fideles 
is  little  more  than  a  cloak  for  the  continuous  practice  o^the  former 
Aztec  hcatlienism.  The  pomp  of  the  Roman  ritual  is  supplemented 
by  the  feasts  of  the  national  worship,  and  the  Pagan  deities  of  the* 
old  cult  are  still  represented  by  the  saints  of  the  Roman  calendar.* 
Aduilnia-  Mexico  constitutes  at  present  a  confe'deration  of 
tratioDi  states  modelled  on  that  of  the  North-American  Union, 
and  administered  according  to  the  constitution  of  1857  as 
amended  in  1873-74.  By  popular  suffrage  are  chosen  the  '< 
president,  the  unper  house  (fifty-two  members),  and  the 
supreme  judiciary  for  four  years,  and  the  lower  house  (two 
hundred  and  twenty-seven  members)  for  two  years.  The 
senate,  abolished  in  1853,  was  restored  in  1874,  and 
the  chief  justice  is  m  ojjicio  vice-president.  The  federal 
states,  which  are  divided,  into  a  number  of  administrative 
districts,  enjoy  full  autonomy  in  all  local  matters.  The 
several  constitutions  are  modelled  on  that  of  the  central 
government,  and  like  it  comiirise  three  departments — 
legislative,  executive,  and  judicial.  Each  state  is  repre- 
sented in  the  federal  congress  in  the  proportion  of  one 
member  for  every  80,000  inhabitants,  and  in  the  federal 
senate  by  two  members  elected  by  suffrage  in  the  local 
congress.  All  external  affairs  and  questions  of  general 
interest  are  reserved  for  the  central  government.  The 
constitution  as  now  established  thus  represents  in  theory 
the  complete  overthrow  of  mediaevalism,  and  the  absolute 
triumph  of  the  new  ideas  which  in  the  Old  World  are 
still  in  so  many  places  struggling  for  the  ascendency. 
Histoiv.  It  is  this  struggle  between  privilege  and  popular 
Colonial  rights  that  lends  its  human  interest  to  the  otherwise 
period,  monotonous  record  of  unresisted  oppression  and  ajiparently 
aimless  revolutions  which  characterize  the  early  and  the 
later  periods  of  Mexican  history,  from  the  overthrow  of  the 
native  rule  down  to  the  present  day.  The  early  or  colonial 
period  covers  exactly  three  hundred  years, — from  the  death 
in  1.521  uf  Guatemozin,  last  of  the  Aztec  emperors,  to  the 
withdrawal  of  the  last  Spanish  viceroy,  Don  Juan  O'Donoju, 
in  1821.  During  these  three  centuries  the  attitude  of  the 
masses  was  one  rather  of  sullen  submission  than  of  active 
resistance  to  grinding  oppression.  By  the  Spanish  Govern- 
ment Mexico  was  looked  on  merely  as  a  vast  metalliferous 
region,  to  be  jealously  guarded  against  foreign  intrusion 
and  worked  exclusively  for  the  benefit  of  the  crown.  The 
natives  were  evangelized  chiefly  for  the  purpose  of  being 
employed  as  slaves  above  and  below  ground,  and  thus  was 
introduced  from  the  West  Indies  the  system  of  reparti- 
mientos,  or  distribution  of  the  aborigines  on  the  plantations 
and  in  the  mines.  But,  while  this  system  proved  fatal  to 
the  natives  of  Cuba  and  Hayti,  where  it  had  to  be  replaced 
by  negro  labour,  the  hardier  populations  of  the  Anahuac 
plateau  successfully  resisted  its  blighting  influences.  It 
proved  in  fact  more  disastrous  to  the  oppressor  than  to  the 
oppressed.  In  those  days  Spain  was  commonly  compared 
to  a  sieve,  never  the  richer  for  all  the  boundless  wealth 
d^a^yn  from  the  New  World.  But  the  aborigines  derived 
at  least  some  advantage  from  contact  and  partial  fusion 


'  On  the  general  state  of  religion  in  Mexico  Bates  well  remarks:— 
"Theedncatcd  classes  conform  lo  the  outward  ceremonies  and  ordi- 
nances of  the  cliurcli,  while  inwanlly  believing  little  or  nothing  of  its 
dogmas.  The  lower  grades  of  society  are,  on  the  other  hand,  steeped 
in  tlie  most  grovelling  superstition,  intensified  by  many  traditional 
Indian  reminiscences.  Tins  section  of  the  community  yields  a  blind 
obedience  to  the  clergy,  notwithstanding  the  severe  laws  with  which 
the  Government  has  endeavoured  to  counteract  the  influence  of  the 
priests.  Even  so  recently  as  1874  a  genuine  case  of  witch-burning 
occaned  in  Ulexim."— Central  America,  p.  34. 


with  a  people  of  superior  culture.  This  fusion,  which  may 
be  regarded  as  the  chief  outcome  of  the  colonial  admini- 
stration, has  contributed  to  the  formation  of  the  present 
exceedingly  complex  Mejdcau  nationality,  in  which  the 
Indian  continues  to  be  the  predominating  element.  Taking 
the  whole  population  at  less  than  ten  millions,  its  ethnical 
distribution  appears  to  be  at  present  as  under : — 

1.  Full-blood  Indians T.l.....  ;.'..'  5,000,000 

2.  Mestizoes  (half-caste  Indians  and  whites) ^V......  8,000,000 

3.  Creoles  (whites  of  Spanish  descent).. „,  1,500,600 

4.  Gachupines'  (Spaniards  by  birth) 50,000 

5.  Other  Europeans  and  Americans -^  100,000 

6.  Full-blood  negroes 1^,000 

7.  Zambos  or  "Chinos"  (Indo-Africans) 45,000 

8.  Mulattoes  (Eurafricaus) 5,000 

Under  the  Spanish  administration,  which  was  marked  on 

the  surface  by  few  stirring  events,  such  as  warlike  expedi- 
tions, civil  strife,  or  serious  internal  troubles,  Mexico,  or 
New  Spain,  formed  a  viceroyalty  at  one  time  stretching 
from  the  isthmus  of  Panama  to  Vancouver's  Island. 
Antonio  de  Mendoza,  appointed  in  1535  after  government 
by  audiencias  had  proved  a  signal  failure,  was  the  first  of 
sixty-four  viceroys  who  ruled  with  almost  autocratic  power, 
but  scarcely  any  of  whom  has  left  a  name  in  history.  Don 
Juan  de  Acuiia  (1722-34)  is  mentioned  as  having  been  the 
only  native  American  among  them,  and  Don  Juan  V.  G. 
Pacheco  (1789-94)  had  at  least  the  merit  of  betraying 
some  regard  for  the  social  welfare  of  his  subjects.  •.  Under 
him  a  regular  police,  the  lighting  and  draining  of  towns, 
and  other  municipal  improvements  were  introduced.' 

But  down  to  the  early  years  of  the  present  century  all 
emoluments  in  church  and  state,  most  of  the  large  planta- 
tions, of  the  mines,  and  of  the  commerce  of  the  country, 
continued  to  be  monopolized  by  the  privileged  gachupines, 
whom  the  Creoles  and  mestizoes  had  already  begun  to  regard 
as  aliens.  Hence  the  first  reactionary  movements,  stimulated 
by  Napoleon's  deposition  of  King  Ferdinand  and  arrest  of 
the  viceroy  Hurrigaray  in  1808,  were  aimed  rather  against 
odious  class  distinctions  and  the  intolerable  oppression  of 
these  aliens  than  against  the  abstract  rights  of  the  Spanish 
crown.  The  long  smouldering  spirit  of  discontent  at  last 
broke  into  open  revolt  in  1810  at  Guanajuato,  under  the 
leadership  of  Don  Miguel  Hidalgo.  After  his  defeat  and 
execution  in  1811,  the  struggle  was  continued  by  Morelos, 
who,  like  Hidalgo,  was  a  priest,  and  shared  his  fate  in 
1815.  But  he  had  already  called  a  national  assembly  at 
Chilpanzinco,  and  by  this  body  Klexican  independence  was' 
for  the  first  time  proclaimed  in  1813.  A  guerilla  warfare 
kept  the  national  spirit  aUve  till  a  fresh  stimulus  was 
given  to  it  by  the  Spanish  revolution  of  1820.  Under 
the  leadership  of  the  "  Liberator  "  Iturbide,  Mexican  inde- 
pendence was  again  proclaimed  on  February  24,  1821,  and 
the  same  year  the  capital  was  surrendered  by  O'Donoju, 
the  last  of  the  viceroys.  But  even  after  the  revolt  had 
thus  been  crowned  with  success  a  change  of  personnel 
rather  than  of  system  was  contemplated  ;  nor  was  Iturbide 
proclaimed  emperor  until  the  Mexican  crown  had  been 
declined  by  a  royal  prince  of  Spain. 

Almost  sinjultaneously  with  this  event  the  republican  Period  of 
standard  had  been  raised  by  Santa  Anna  at  Vera  Cruz  'udepeni 
(December  1822).     Thus  the  nation  had  no  sooner  got  rid  "'°'" 
of  foreign  rule  than  it  became  torn  by  internal  dissension. 
But  henceforth  the  struggle  is  not  so  much  against  the 
privileged  classes  as  between   Conservative   and   Liberal 
principles, — the  former  represented  chiefly  by  the  church 
and  the  superstitious  populace,  the   latter   by  the   more 
enlightened  but  not  less  unscrupulous  sections  of  the  com- 
munity.    From  both  the  Indios  Bravos,  that  is,  about  a 
third  of  the  whole  population,  hold  entirely  aloof,  and  take 
advantage  of  the  public  disorders  to  continue  their  aggres- 


'  From  the  Aztec  Gatzopin,  centaur;  also  known  as  Chapetona. 


220 


31  E  X  r  c  0 


sive  warfare  against  all  alike.'  Events  now  follow  in  quick 
succession,  and  as  many  as  three  hundred  successful  or 
abortive  revolutions  arc  recorded  during  the  brief  but 
stormy  life  of  Mexican  national  independence.^  But  amid 
the  confusion  of  empires,  republics,  dictatorships,  and 
military  usurpations,  succeeding  each  other  with  bewilder- 
ing rapidity,  the  thoughtful  student  will  still  detect  a  steady 
progress  towards  the  ultimate  triumph  of  those  Liberal 
ideas  which  lie  at  the  base  of  true  national  freedom.  A 
brief  tabulated  summary  of  the  raore  salient  incidents  in 
this  eventful  struggle  must  here  suffice  : — 
1821-23.  Jlc.xicau  indertndence  acknowlejgej  by  Spain  ;  regency 
under  Iturbide,  wlin  (1822)  is  elected  hereditary  constitu- 
tional emperor;  in  December  Santa  Anna  proclaims  tlie 
republic  in  Vera  Ciiiz. 
1823-24.  Provisional    Govcrnmeut ;    Iturbide    abdicates ;     exiled, 

withdraws  to  London,  but  returning  is  shot  (1824). 
'824.  First  Liberal  constitution,— "Acta  Constitutiva  de  la  Federa- 
cion  .Mexicana,"  then  comprising  nineteen  states  and  five 
territories;    first  president  D.   Felix  Victoria,   known  as 
•'Guadalupe  Victoria." 
■■  628-30.  Conte.sted  presidencies  of  Pedraza,  Guerrero,  and  Busta- 

mente. 
18o5.  Reaction  of  the  churcU  party;  constitution  of  1824  abolislicd  ; 
the  confederate  states  fused  in  a  consolidated  republic  under 
Santa  Anna  as  president,  but  practically  dictator. 

1836.  Te.vas  refusing  to  submit  secedes,  defeatsaud  captures  Santa 

Anna. 

1837.  Santa  Anna  returning  resumes  office. 
1839.  Oravo's  brief  presidency  followed  by  much  anarchy. 
1841-44.  Santa  Anna's  first  dictatorship  with  two  others. 

1844.  Constitution  restored  with  Santa  Anna  president;  banished 

same  year,  he  is  succeeded  by  Canalizo. 

1845.  Herrera   president;   disastrous   war  with  Lnitcd   States  to 

recover  Texas. 

1846.  Santa  Anna  again  presidi 
1848.  Treaty  of  Guadalupe;  California  and  New  Mexico  ceded  to 

United  States. 

1853.  Santa  Anna's  second  dictatorship;  treatyofJIcsilla  (negotiated 
by  Gadsden)  ceding  extensive  territory  to  United  States  and 
reducing  Mexico  to  its  [n-esent  limits  ;  great  financial  embar- 
rassment; "Plan  of  Ayutla";  flight  of  Santa  Anna  followed 
by  universal  chaos. 

1855.  Provisional  Government  under  President  Comonfort. 

1856  Constitutional  convention;  radical  reforms;  luiiture  with 
Spain. 

1857.  Libeijil  constitution  of  March  11  ;  suspended  December  1; 
iijiiionfort  dictator  ;  the  reaction  sup poitcd  by  the  church, 
large  part  of  the  army,  and  all  Conservatives ;  opposed  ut 
VeraCruzby  Vice-president  Benito  Juarez  at  the  licadof  tlw 


1867-G9.  VarioL-s  pronunciamiintos  by  Santa  Anna  and  others. 
1871-72.  Juarez  president ;  he  dies  in  office  July  1872  ;  succeeded 

by  his  secretary  Lcrdo  de  Tejada. 
1873-74.  The  Liberal  constitution  of  1857,  whidi  had  been  twice 
suspended  (1858-60  and  1863-67),  is  now  largely  amended, 
and  continues  to  be  henceforth  the  erganic  law  of  Jlexico. ' 
1876.  Tejada  succeeded  by  PorGrio  Diaz. 
1880.  Manui;!  Gonzalez,  reigning  president 
Since  1869  tlie  Liberal  party  lias  succeeded  in  jireserving  peace  at 
t  home  und  abroad,  while  establisliing  democj-atic  institutions  on  a 
firm  basis.     A.  v.  Hunibohlt's  gloomy  anticipations'  Ijave  not  beea 
realjzed,  and  for  the  first  time  in  its  chequered  histoiy  Mexico  may 
I  look  forward  witli  some  confidence  to  a  bright  future.     Tlie  plagu'» 
spot  is  the  uncivilized  Indian  element.    But  witli  boundless  natural 
i-csources  at  its  disposal,  a  wise  administration  may  hope  to  over- 
come tliat  difficulty,  and  gradually  effect  a  complete  fusion  of  the 
antagonistic  racial  elements. 


J.  Frost,  Ilittorti  of  Sttxieo  and  in  Wan,  »,.n  aiMc 
OiUaiis,  IBbJ:  T.  tj.  Drocklihuii.!.  iftiiro  TD-iau,  I.oi 
itexiro  itt  IS8?,  New  York.  ISSJ;  Aubcrtin.  A  i'li'jlit 


1692;  K.  Uuslti,  tMailiilUa  Je  la  llrptiblira  tt'j 
Alamaii.  Uittoria  de  Mexico,  Mexico,  tKJ9-.',2' 
Rrroliieioaet,  r«iL'.  1831!;  E.  K.  II.  von  Illchthufi 
Uepuhlik  ilexito,  Ut'ilin.  I854-.'.r»;  W.  It.  Presc 
Mexico,  New  Voik.  1847;  L.  .Miililini.fnrJt,  Sthild, 


\,n.  1882 ; 
0  Urxicr.. 


I  lieiiehung  civj  Oeographie,  Et/itio-iiaphie,  unit  Sfali.'lilt,  II 
■      ■r,c\,Uexlc  


.  L.  Mom.  irexic;  y  aul 
poliliscfitn  Zuiltiude  der 
ylory  of  tUe  Comiuctt  o/ 
/irp.  Ml  xico.  bctondert 
.  1844;  A.  r>. 


Thlimmcl.  Mexico  vnd  die  ihxicaner  itt  t'lmiiichor,  socitilrr,  tittd  polittscher  lUtit 

Ittittg,  tiluneco.  1848;  DiantJ  Mayer,  SSxico  as  ,1  iras  and  as   il  is.  New  York. 

1844.  .ind  ifrxico,  Atlec,  Spattisli,  attil  litpuUicati,  Ilanfoi.l,  18sn;    F.  W.  ^on 

'    Et'toffsteln,  Coiitt-ibutiotts  to  the  Geology  attd  the  Phyittcat  Oeot}fapt,tj  of  itrxt:c, 

No«  York,  IS04  ;  J.  C.  Beltrami,  Le  Mexitjiie.  Tai  Is  li-ao;  Mailamr  C.  [CiildcronJ. 

do  la  1).  Illarca].  li/e  itt  Mexico.  Jtc.  wUli  prvf..co  l.v  W.  11.  rasrnlt.  Lone-:. 

1R4.1;  A.  .M.  Gilliam,  Ttaccis  over  titf  TaUe-ltttidt.  attd  Cottlillrtat  v/ Mtxico,  Piiii- 

ntlclphlfl,  IS4R:  A.  von  IIunit^oMt.  i\cs  del  Cofdil'ites  tt  ittotttitttcttttt  itcs  ptuplet 

indi.ieites  de  I'Anientjitc,  I'arh.  IRIO,  un<l  Wtsiictt  Utter  dttt  pttHtit-rlteit  Zuftartd  dts 

Kittjiyreirhs  Seu-Spattiett,  TUMnccn,  IsOy-n  (rn-ncli'cil.,  Vaila,  1811);   .MipueJ 

Lcido  de  Tejada,  Cotttetcio  ixtrrior  de  Mexico  detde  la  Cvttt/iitsia  hasta  kity, 

Mesico.  1853;  Jolin  .MacKiTeor.  i7o(t»  o/ J/cj-iVo  (toinmcicini  lnillla.*c.),  Londt-n. 

184C;  Analcs  del  Mittistcrio  de  foititttto,  eoloniiaciott,  iitdtistrta,  y  eoiiiercio  d(  'o 

Repvbttca  Mfxieatia  y  reperlorio  de  itolieias  eolire  eieitcias,  artrs,  y  estadittter. 

il'irinnat  y  estl'attjefa,  Mixico,  IS.'il-.'ii;  Mrtuoria  sot/re  el  eslaito  de  la  atjricutttir,: 

y  viduftria  dt;  la  Hepublica,  que  la  direccion  general  de  estos  latitat  prtsettta  t.' 

1   Cobicrtio  Stiprittto,  .tc,  Mexic.i.  1843-10;  Don  Mariano  Galvii.  Ittdttitrta  Xtirionr.l. 

J  Mexico,  ISli,  and  EUatuloor-jaiticode  la  Itrpitblira  Mrriaitta.  Jlixko,  Ix-'iT;  II.  W. 

^  Hates.  Ceittral  Attiefiea,  ic,  Willi  cllinoloclcol  appendls  by  A.  II.  Keanc.  London, 

1«78;  .Purveys  ol  llic  Fltnt-ll  Corps  Exlpvdllionnaltc  ciiibodii-d  in  Ilic  Cant  du 

Mexii/tie.  Willi  areoiiipunjiiiK  inoiingrapli  by  M.  NIn.t,  Tarls,  lf<73.     Oilier  larco 

and  more  or  Iiss  Iriibtivoiliiy  maps  arc— A.  G.  Cuba.  Carta  Geoyrajira,  >lcxico. 

1^74  ;   Tl.c  l.ibrar,,  Map  of  Mrxtro.  Cliliaco,  1812;   Ilunibniilt,  Atltis  l!^tjraplttt)iie 

et  i'ltitti(/tje  dii  llotjauinc  dc  la  Koucetle  Espa^tie,  I'arls.  1811;  Mapa  de  lus  L'ltajrs 

Vnidct  de  Mexico,  i,-.,  publislicd  by  J.  Dbliii-ntll.  New  Yolk.  1847;  Urui!,  Carle- 

Paris,  182.'<;  II.  KlcptH,  Jfrj-ifo.  Ttroi.inni 

lit  y  C.  dc  BclKhcs,  Ciirta  tjettrjjiotiica  de  lets 

I'lo  dc  Mexico  fottttada  ivtire  obsmaeiotitt 

0,  1827;  liic  laiKo  pliyvical  and  ecological 

above-quoted  work  ;  and  a  cuod  ulief  mBi> 


geiitruU  Jcs   Ktn 

^■Vn 

»  Xfcxiraifis, 

Cali/oniitii,  Wi-I 

11(1  r, 

M7;  F.  deGc 

prtncipaUs  distr 

0»  III 

neralef  del  E* 

ostron..  baromrt 

V  ' 

intra/.,  Mcxi 

mnp-t  iici'nniii;in\ 

"K  V 

on  EKloffslcin' 

In  v.  lUtzcl's  Ju 

sMrr 

CO,  Urcsluu,  1 

111.  TllE  CITY  OF  MEXICO. 


J  , , „_„.  „_         Mexico,  the  capita!  formerly  of  the  Aztec  empire  and  of 

'Pu^s,"  or  advanced  Liberals;    the   "War  of  Reform"     the  Spanish  colony  of  New  Spain,  and  now  of  the  republic. 


begin/,  and  lasts  till  1860. 
1858-59.  In  the  capital  Comonfort  is  deposed  by  Zuloaga,  who 
abdicates  in  favour  of  Miramon,  general  of  the  Conservative 
forces  ;  but,  declining  the  presidency,  Miramon  restores 
Zuloaga ;  British  legation  violated  ;  in  Veia  Cruz  the 
United  States  envoy  MacI.ean  arknowlcdges  Juarez,  who 
introduces  further  Liberal  measures. 

1860.  Capitulation  of  Guadalajara  ;   (liglit  of  Miramon  from   the 

capital ;  triumph  of  tlie  Liberals. 

1861.  Triumphal  entry  of  Juari!z  into  the  capit.il  ;  further  radical 

reforms  ;  marriage  declared  a  civil  contract ;  celibacy  and 
ecclesiastical  tribunals  sujipressi-d  ;  confiscation  of  cliurch 
property  valued  at  i.'75,O00,00O  and  over  a  third  of  the  soil ; 
final  separation  of  church  and  state;  Spain,  France,  and 
England  urge  claims  for  lo.iscs  of  their  subjects  resident  in 
Mexico  ;  convention  of  London  ;  intervention  of  the  allies, 
who  occupy  Vera  Cruz  in  December 

1862.  Engl.and   anil   Spain   withdraw,    their  claims    having  been 
settled  by  negotiation  ;  war  continued  by  France. 


state,  and  federal  di.strict  of  Mexico,  stands  on  the  Anahuac 
plateau,  7.^)'J4  feet  above  sea-level,  21  miles  from  the  south- 
west side  of  Lake  Tezcuco  (Texcoco),  the  lowest  and  largest 
of  six  ba.'sins  filling  thedeepcst  dcjiression  in  the  hill-encircled 
Mexican  valley.  Situated  in  19"  25'  45"  N.  lat  and  99°  7' 
W.  long.,  it  i-i  173  miles  by  rail  from  Vera  Cruz  on  the 
Atlantic,  290  from  Acapulcoon  the  Pacific,  285  from  Oajaca, 
80."!  from  Matamoro.i  on  tlie  United  States  frontier.  Mexico 
is  the  large-it  and  finest  city  in  Sllani.^h  America,  forming 
a  wjuare  nearly  3  miles  both  \\  ays,  and  laid  out  with  perfect 
regularity,  all  its  six  hundred  streets  and  lanes  running  at 
right  angles  north  to  south  and  east  to  west,  and  covering 
within  the  walls  an  area  of  about  10  .stpiare  miles,  with  a 
population  (in  1880)  of  230,000.  Most  of  the  inhabitants 
are  pure-lilood  Indians  or  mestizoes;  but  the  foreigners, 


1863-64.  The  eajiital  oceujiied   by  the   French;   Louis  Napoleon  ]  cliiefly  French,  English, Germans,  American.s.and  Siianinrds, 

monopolize  nearly  all  the  trade,  and  as  capitftli.sts,  liankers, 
merchants,  and  dealers  enjoy  an  influence  out  of  all 
[iroportion  to  their  numbers.  A  large  portion  of  the 
natives  arc  mendicants  or  vagrant.^,  and  the  distinctly 
criminal  clement  (20,470  in  1878)  is  kejit  in  order  by  a 
police  force  of  1 320  men ;  yet  in  that  year  there  were  as 
many  as   5370   knife-altack.->  and  3250    robberies.     The 

'  Consulted  shortly  before  his  death  as  to  the  future  prospects  of 
Mexico,  with  which  his  name  was  so  intimately  associated,  Humboldt 
ventured  to  prophcBy  that  "die  Vercinigten  Staaten  wcrdcu  esansicb 
reissen  liad  Uaun  selbst  zerfallen." 


■sal  fusion  of  the  Latin  races  :  oders  tin 
Mexican  imperial  crown  to  the  Austrian  arehduki-  Ferdinand 
^laximilian,  who  accepts,  and  arrives  in  June  1864. 
1867.  After  diverse  issues  the  Kieiali  withdraw ;  Maximilian, 
abandoned  to  ^lis  fate,  is  catitured  and  sliot  at  Queretnro 
(June  19), 

'  In  December  1882  a  party  of  seventy-five  Mexicans  and  Americans  ' 
were  massacred  in  the  state  of  Chihuahua  by  a  band  of  Bravos.  I 

'  Between  1821  and  1868  the  form  of  goveminent  was  changed  ten  ' 
times;  over  fifty  persons  succeeded  each  otlier  as  presidents,  dictators,   ' 
or  emperors;  both  emperors  were  sliot,  Iturbide  in  1824,  Maximilian 
in  1 867,  and  according  to  some  calculations  tliere  occurred  at  least  three 
hundred  iirontcnciamientos.  I 


MEXICO 


221 


Lroad,  well-pared,  and  gas-lit  streets  present  a  picturesque 
appearance  with  their  quaint  two-  and  three-storied  stone 
houses  gaUy  painted  in  white,  red,  yellow,  or  green,  and 
terminating  everywhere   with  a   background   of   rugged 
sierras  or  snowy  peaks  which,  owing  to  the  bright  atmo- 
sphere at  this  elevation,  seera  quite  close,  although  really 
30  or  40  miles  distant.     All  the  main  thoroughfares  con- 
verge on  the  central  Plaza  de   Armas  (Plaza   Mayor,  or 
Main  Square),  which  covers  14  acres,  and  is  tastefully  laid 
out  with  shady  trees,  garden  plots,  marble  fountains,  and 
seats.     Here  also  are  grouped  most  of  the  public  buildings, 
towering  above  which  is  the  cathedral,  the   largest   and 
mo.st  sumptuous  church  in  America,  which  faces  the  north 
side  of  the  plaza  on  the  site  of  the  great  pyramidal  teocalli 
or  temple  of  Huitzilopochtli,  titular  god  of  the  Aztecs. 
This  edifice,  which  was  founded  in  1573  and  finished  in 
1657,  at  a  cost  of  £400,000  for  the  walls  alone,  forms  a 
Greek  cross  426  feet  long  and  203  wide,  with  two  great 
naves  and  three  aisles,  twenty  side -chapels,  and  a  magnifi- 
cent high  altar  supported   by  marble  columns,  and   siu:- 
rounded  by  a  tumbago  balustrade  with  sixty-two  statues  of 
the   same   rich  gold,  silver,  and  copper  alloy  serving  as 
candelabra.     The  elaborately  carved  choir  is  also  enclosed 
by  tumbago  railings  made  in  Macao,  weighing  26  tons,  and 
valued  at  about  £300,000.     In  the  interior  the  Doric  style 
prevails,  Renaissance  in  the  exterior,  which  is  adorned  by  a 
fine  dome  and  two  open  towers  218  feet  high.     At  the  foot 
of  the  left  tower  is  placed  the  famous  calendar  stone,  the 
most  interesting  relic  of  Aztec  cultiu-e.     The  east  side  of 
the  plaza  is  occupied  by  the  old  viceregal  residence,  now 
the  National  Palace,  with  675  feet   frontage,  containing 
most  of  the  Government  offices  (ministerial,  cabinet,  treasury), 
military  haadquarters,  archives,  meteorological  department 
with  observatory,  and  the  spacious  hall  of  ambassadors  with 
some  remarkable  paintings  by  Miranda  and  native  artists. 
North   of   the  National  Palace,  and   apparently  forming 
portions  of  it,  are  the  post-office  and  the  national  museum  of 
natural  history  and  antiquities,  with  a  priceless  collection 
of  Mexican  remains.     Close  to  the  cathedral  stands  the 
Monte  de  Piedad,  or  national  pawnshop,  a  useful  institu- 
tion, endowed  in  1744  byTerreros  vs-ith  £75,000,  and  now 
possessing    nearly    £2,000,000    of    accumulated    funds. 
Facing  the  cathedral  is  the  Palacio  Municipal  (city  hall), 
252  feet  by  122,  rebuilt  in  1792  at  a  cost  of  £30,000,  and 
containing  the  city  and  district  offices,  the  corporation  jail, 
and   the   lonja,   or    merchants'    exchange.     Around    the 
Plaza   San   Domingo  are  grouped   the   convent  of   that 
name,  said  to  contain  vast  treasures  buried  within  its  walls, 
the  old  inquisition,  now  the  school  of  medicine,  and  the 
custom-house.     In  the  same  neighbourhood  are  the  chiu-ch 
of  the  Jesuits  and  the  school  of  arts,  "  an  immense  work- 
shop, including  iron  and  brass  foundries,  carriage  and  cart 
mending,  building  and  masonry,  various  branches  of  joinery 
and  upholstery  work,  and  silk  and  cotton  hand-weaving  " 
(Brocyehurst).      Other    noteworthy    buildings    are   the 
national  picture    gallery   of    San    Carlos,   the   finest  in 
America,  in  which  the  Florentine  and  Flemish  schools  are 
well   represented,  tCnd  which   contains   the  famous   Las 
Casas  by  Felix  Parra ;  the  national  library  of  St  Augustine, 
with  over  100,000  volumes,  numerous  MSS.,  and  many  rare 
old   Spanish   books;   the   mint,   which   since    1690   has 
issued  coinage,  chiefly  silver,  to   the  amount   of   nearly 
£400,000,000  ;  the  Iturbide  hotel,  formerly  the  residence 
of  the  emperor  Iturbide ;  the  Mineria,  or  school  of  mines, 
with   lecture-rooms,  laboratories,   rich   mineralogical  and 
geological^  specimens,  and  a  fossil  horse  3  feet  high  of  the 
Pleistocene  period.     Owing  to  the  spongy  nature  of  the 
Boil,  the  Mineria  and  many  other  structures  Lave  settled 
'    out  of  the  perpendicular,  thus  often  presenting  irregular 
Unes^and    a    rickety  appearance.     Among    the    twenty 


scientific  institutes  mention  should  be  miade  of  the  Geogra- 
phical and  Statistical  Society,  whose  meteorological  depart- 
ment issues  charts  and  maps  of  unsurpassed  excellence. 

Besides  the  chief  market  south  of  the  National  Palace  there  are 
three  others,  all  well  stocked  with  meat,  fish,  and  especially 
vegetables,  fruits,  and  flowers  grown  mainly  on  the  chinampas,  or 
floating  gardens  of  Lakes  Chalco  and  Xochimilco.  These  gardens, 
which  were  far  moVe  numerous  in  the  Aztec  times,  are  formed  by 
placing  layers  of  turf  on  the  matted  aquatic  vegetable  growths  to  a 
height  of  2  or  3  feet  above  the  water,  and  securing  them  by  long 
willow  poles  driven  through  them  to  the  bottom,  where  they  take 
root  They  form  plots  100  to  200  feet  long  by  20  to  100  broad,  and 
are  firm  enough  to  support  the  huts  of  the  cultivators.  From  the 
still  extant  illuminated  tribute-rolls  it  appears  that  the  Aztec 
rulers  derived  a  large  share  of  the  taxes  from  these  gardens,  which 
at  that  time  also  covered  the  brackish  waters  of  Lake.  Tezcuco. 

Before  1860  half  of  the  city  consisted  of  churches,  convents,  and 
other  ecclesiastical  structures,  most  of  which  have  been  sequestrated 
and  converted  into  libraries,  stores,  warehouses,  and  even  stables, 
or  pulled  down  for  civic  improvements.  Nevertheless  there  still 
remain  fourteen  parish  and  thirty  other  churches,  some  of  large  size 
with  towers  and  domes,  and  their  number  has  now  been  increased 
by  six  Protestant  churches  including  the  Anglican  cathedral  in 
San  Francisco  Street.  This  is  the  leading  thoroughfare,  and  is 
rivalled  in  splendour  only  by  the  new  Cinco  de  Mayo  Street  niuning 
from  the  National  Theatre  to  the  cathedral. 

The  city  is  supplied  by  two  monumental  aqueducts,  from  Chapul- 
tepec  and  the  south-west,  with  good  water  at  the  rate  of  44  gallons 
per  day  per  inhabitant. 

Its  industries  are  varied  but  unimbortant,  consisting  chiefly  of 
gold  and  silver  work,  coarse  glazed  ana  unglazcd  pottery  of  peculiar 
form  and  ornamentation,  paper,  ifeather-work  remarkable  for  its  taste 
and  beautiful  designs,  toys,  rosaries,  cruciflxes,  religious  pictures, 
lace,  and  some  weaving. 

Mexico  enjoys  an  equable  climate,  with  a  temperature  varying  from 
70°  to  50°  F.,  but  rendered  unhealthy  by  the  exhalations  from  the 
lakes  and  the  bad  drainage.  The  death-rate  in  1876  was  59  per 
1000,  and  45  in  1878,  pneumonia  being  most  fatal  (12  per  cent,  of  the 
total).  Standing  at  the  lowest  level  of  a  lacustrine  valley,  1400 
square  miles  in  extent,  and  completely  encircled  by  hills  with  uo 
natural  outlet,  the  city  has  always  been  subject  to  floodings  from 
the  overflow  of  the  neighbouring  freshwater  Lakes  Zumpaugo  and 
Xaltocan  on  the  north  and  Xochimilco  and  Chalco  on  the  south, 
which,  in  the  17th  century,  laid  the  whole  district  under  water  in 
1607,  and  again  for  five  years  from  1629  to  1634.  To  remedy  the 
evil  the  engineer  Martinez  began  in  1607  the  great  cutting  13  railea 
long  through  the  Nochistongo  hill  in  order  to  draw  ofi'  the 
discharge  of  Lake  Zumpango,  the  highest  in  the  valley,  to  the  river 
Tola,  a  tributary  of  the  Paimco,  flowing  to  the  Atlantic.  This  work, 
which  cost  the  lives  of  70,000  natives,  was  completed  in  1789 ;  but  the 
result  was  not  satisfactory,  and  the  city  is  still  often  flooded. 

The  chief  public  promenades  are  the  Alameda,  planted  with 
stately  beeches ;  the  Vega,  skirted  by  the  Vega  Canal,  and  adorned 
with  the  colossal  bust  of  Guatemozin,  the  last  of  the  Aztec  em- 
perors ;  the  Paseo  de  la  Kiforma,  a  fine  avenue  3  miles  long  running 
south  to  the  famous  castle  of  Chapultepec,  a  place  intimately  asso- 
ciated with  the  names  both  of  Montezuma  and  Maximilian.  The 
present  castle,  erected  in  1785  by  the  viceroy  Galvez  on  the  site  ol 
Montezuma's  palace,  commands  a  superb  view  of  the  city  and  siir* 
rounding  district,  and  is  approached  by  avenues  of  gigantic 
cypresses  {Cupressu3  disticha)  dating  from  A^tec  times,  growing  to  a 
height  of  120  feet,  and  measuring  from  30  to  40  feet  roimd  the  stem. 
Other  good  roads  with  horse  or  steam  trams  lead  to  Tacubaya  and 
the  "  Noche  Triste  "  tree,  where  Cortes  is  traditionally  supposed  to 
have  rested  after  the  disastrous  retreat  from  Mexico  on  the  night  of 
June  30,  1520,  to  the  pleasant  summer  suburb  of  Tacubaya,  and  to 
the  renowned  shrine  ot  Our  Lady  of  Guadalupe,  3  miles  to  the  east  on 
the  border  of  Lake  Tezcuco.  Here  stands  the  most  famous  church 
in  Mexico,  erected  to  commemorate  the  legendary  apparitions  of  the 
Madonna  to  the  Indian  Juan  Diego  in  December  1531,  and  still 
visited  by  thousands  of  pilgrims  or  sightseers. 

Mexico  dates  either  from  the  year  1325  or  1327,  when  the  Aztecs 
after  long  wanderings  over  the  plateau  were  directed  by  the  oracle 
to  settle  at  this  spot.  For  here  had  been  witnessed  the  auspicious 
omen  of  an  eagle  perched  on  a  nopal  (cactus)  and  devouring  a  snake. 
Hence  the  original  name  of  the  city,  Tenochtitlan  (nopal  on  a 
stone),  changed  afterwards  to  Mexico  in  honour  of  the  war  god 
Mexitli.  With  the  progress  of  Aztec  culture  the  place  rapidly  im- 
proved, and  about  1450  the  old  mud  and  rush  houses  wei»  ruiduced* 
by  solid  stone  structures  erected  partly  on  piles  amid  the  islets  ot 
Lake  Tezcnco,  and  grouped  round  the  central  enclosure  of  the  great 
teocallL  The  city  had  reached  its  highest  splendour  on  the  arrival 
of  the  Spaniards  in  1519,  when  it  comprised  from  50,000  to  60,000 
houses,  with  perhaps  500,000  inhabitants,  and  seemed  to  Cortes 
"like  a  thing  of  fairy  creation  rather  than  the  work  of  mortal 
hands"  (Prescott).     It  was  at  that  time  about  12  miles  iu  ciicuu* 


222 


M  E  Y  =-  M  E   Y 


Ufinci~tvory  where  intersected  by  canals,  anfl  connectedwitUthe  Tmilea  from  the  city,/  During  the  Sjianish  rule  the  cbieT' event  w«fl 
mainl.TBd  1))*  six  lon^' and  solidly  constructed  causeways,  as  is  clearly  \  the  revolt  of  1692,^  when  the  municipal  buildings  wwe  destroyed^ 
fihown  by  the  plan  fjiven  in  the  edition  of  Cortcs's  letters  published  I  Since  then  Mexico  has  been  tlie  scene  of  many  revolutions,  and 
kt  Nuremberg  in  1524  (reproduced  in  vol.  iv.  of  H.  H.  Bancroft's  I  after  the  battle  of  Chapultepec  (September  13,  1847)  the  city  nas 
Historij  of  the  Pacific  Stales,  San  Francisco,  K.33,  p.  280).     After  |  held  by  the   United  States  troops  till  the   treaty  of  Guadalujit;, 


its  almost  total  destruction  in  November  1521,  Coites  employed 
some  400,000  natives  in  rebuilding  it  on  the  same  site  ;  but  since 
then  the  lake  seems  to  have  considerably  subsided,  for  although 
Btill .50  square  miles  in  extent  it  is  very  shallow,  and  h.is  retired  21 


May  1848.     But  since   the  disorders  ending  with   tho  death' 
Maximilian  it  has  turned  to  peaceful  ways,  and  has  become  a  grcnt 
centre  of  civilizing  influences  for  the  surrounding  semi-barbarou* 
peoples.  (A.  H..K.i 


,'MEYEREEEE,""GlACOMO  (1791-r8C.3)7first  known  in 
Germany  as  Jakob  Meyer  Beer,  was  born  at  Berlin  on 
September  5,  1791,'  of  a  wealthy  and  talented  Jewish 
family.  ,■  His  father,  Herz  Beer,  was  a  banker  ;  his  mother, 
L^malie  (nee  Wulf),  was  a  woman  of  liigh  intellectual 
•culture  ;  and  two  of  his  brothers  distinguished  themselves 
in  astronomy  and  literature.  He  studied  the  pianoforte, 
first  under  Lauska,  and  afterwards  under  Lauska's  master, 
Clcmenti.  When  seven  years  old  he  played  Mozart's  Con- 
certo in  D  Minor  in  public,  and  at  nine  he  was  pronounced 
the  best  pianist  in  Berlin.  For  composition  he  was  placed 
under  Zelter,  whose  lessons  were  soon  exchanged  for  those 
of  Bernard  Weber,  then  director  of  the  Berlin  opera,  by 
whom  he  was  introduced  to  the  Abb^  A''ogler.  Struck  by 
his  brilliant  talent,  Vogler  invited  him  to  Darmstadt,  and 
in  1810  received  him  into  his  house,  wherehe  formed  an 
intimate  friend.ship  with  Karl  JIaria  von  Weber,  who, 
though  his  senior  by  eight  year.s,  shared  the  daily  lessons 
he  received  from  the  abb^  in  counterpoint,  fugue,  and 
extempore  organ-playing.  At  the  end  of  two  years  the 
grand-duke  appointed  Meyerbeer  composer  to  the  court. 
His  early  works,  how-ever,  were  far  from  successful, — his 
first  opera,  Jephtha's  Geliihde,  failing  lamentably  at 
Darmstadt  in  1811,  and  his  second,  Wiiih  mid  Gast 
(Alimelek),  at  Vienna  in  1814.  The.se  checks  discouraged 
liim  so  cruelly  that  he  feared  he  had  mistaken  his  vocation. 
Nevertheless,  by  advice  of  Salieri,  he  determined  to  study 
vocali.'iation  in  Italy,  and  then  to  form  a  new  style.  But 
at  Venice  he  was  so  captivated  by  the  style  of  Rossini  that, 
renouncing  all  thought  of  originality,  he  produced  a  suc- 
cession of  seven  Italian  operas — Romilda  e  Cnstanza, 
Semiramide  riconosciuta,  Edouardo  e  Cnstina,  Emma  di 
Hosbmyo,  Marglierita  d'AnJou,  L'Eside  di  Granata,  and  II 
Crociato  in  Epitto — which  all  achieved  a  success  as  brilliant 
as  it  was  unexpected.  Against  this  act  of  treason  to  Ger- 
man art  Weber  protested  most  earnestly  ;  and  before  long 
^Meyerbeer  himself  grew  tired  of  his  defection,  though  the 
success  of  11  Crociato  was  so  great  that  he  was  crowned 
upon  the  stage.  An  invitation  to  Paris  in  1S2C  led  him 
to  review  his  position  fairly  and  dispassionately,  and  he 
could  not  conceal  from  himself  the  fact  that  he  was  wast- 
ing in  imitation  powers  which,  rightly  used,  might  make 
his  name  immortal.  For  several  years  after  this  he  pro- 
duced nothing  in  public  ;  but,  in  concert  with  Scribe,  ho 
planned  the  work  which  first  made  known  the  reality  of  his 
transcendent  genius — his  first  French  opera,  Robert  le 
Dinble.\  This  gorgeous  drama  was  [iroduced  at  the  Grand 
Op^ra  in  1831,  and  received  with  acclamation.  It  was  the 
first  of  its  race,  a  grand  romantic  opera,  abounding  ^vith 
scenes  of  startling  interest,  with  situations  more  powerfully 
dramatic  than  any  that^  had  been  attempted  either 
by  Cherubini  or  Rossini,  with  mysterious  horrors  and 
chivalric  pomp,  and  with  ballet  music  such  as  had  never 
yet  been  heard,  even  in  Paris.  ■  Its  popularity  exceeded  all 
previous  expectation ;  yet  for  five  years  after  this  signal) 
triumph  Meyerbeer  appeared  before  the  public  no  more.*. 
We'c.ahnot  doubt  that  his 'motive  for^thi:?  retircmentiwai!"' 
thc'^etermination  to  produce  something  greater  still  ;-and' 


"iOr.  accordlD!!  to  some'aeco'  nts;,  !1'79X! 


in  some  respects  his  next  opera,  Les  Ihiguenots,'  TcS\ly\KX. 
greater,  though  it  fell  short  of  the  deep  romance  which  ren- 
dered Robert  le  Viable  so  incomparably  captivating. 

The  first  performance  of  Les  Hnr/iunots  took  place  in 
183G.     In  gorgeous  colouring,  in  depth  of  passion,  in  con^ 
sistency  of  dramatic  treatment,  and  in  careful  delineation 
of  individual  character,  it  is  at  least  the  equal  of  Robert  le 
DiaUe.     In  two  points  only  did  its  interest  fall  short  of 
that  inspired  by  the  earlier  work.     Meyerbeer  had  shown 
himself  so  great  a  master  in  his  treatment  of  the  superr 
natural    that  one  regretted  the    unavoidable   omission  of 
that  powerful  element  in   his  second  grand  opera ;  and, 
more  important  still,  the  fifth  act  of  Les  Huguenots  was  so 
arranged  by  the  librettist  as  to  render  effective  musical 
treatment  impossible.     The  substitution  of  a  noisy  fusiHade 
I  for  a  legitimate  dramatic  situation  w'as  fatal  to  the  antici- 
pated climax.     The  music  which  accompanies  this  division 
of  the  work  is  necessarily  inferior  to  all  that  precedes  it. 
The  true  interest  of'  the  drama  culminates  at  the  close  of 
the   fourth  act,  when  Raoul,  leaping  from   the   window, 
leaves  Valentine  fainting  upon  the  ground.     The  spectator 
needs  not  to  be  told  that  the  former  will  be  shot  down  the 
moment  he  arrives  in  the  street,  or  that  the  latter  ^vill 
mourn  for  him  to  the  end  of  her  days.     Neither  masically 
nor  dramatically  does  anything  more  remain  to  be  said ; 
and  therefore  it  is  that  those  who  quit  the  theatre  when 
the  curtain  falls  for  the  fourth  time  carry  away  with  them 
I  a  far  more  perfect  ideal  than  those  who  remain  to  the'  end. 
After  the  production  of  Les  JIvguenots  Jleyerbeer  again 
I  retired  from  public  view,  and  spent  many  years  in  the  pre- 
I  paration  of  two  of  his  greatest  works — the  greatest  of  all 
except  the  two  we  have  already  mentioned^ii'yi_/Vicam< 
I  and  Le  Prophcte.     The  libretti  of  both  these  operas  were 
furnished  by  Scribe ;  and  both  were  subjected  to  countless 
changes   of   detail   before   they   satisfied   the   composer's 
fastidious   taste ;  in   fact,  the   story  of   L'Africaine  '..waa' 
more  than  once  entirely  rewritten. 
j       Meanwhile   Meyerbeer    accepted    the    appointmcntjof 
I  kapellmeister   to   the   king  of   Prussia,  and   spent /some 
years   at  Berlin,  where   he   produced   Ein   FeldlagerXin 
Sc/desien,   a    German    opera,    in    which    the    aiatcJilessi 
I  cantatrice    Jenny    Lind   made   her    first'  appearance   'in 
'  Prussia,  with  unprecedented  success.     Hero  also. he  com- 
posed, in  1846,  the  overture  to  his  brother  Michael's  drama, 
Stntensce.     But  his  chief  care  at  this  period  was  bestowed 
j  upon  the  worthy  presentation  of  the  works  of  others.     'He 
'  began  by  producing  his  dead  friend  Wehefs'^Eurt/ant/ie, 
j  with  scrupulous  attention  to  the  composer's  original  _idea. 
With  equal   unselfishness   he  procured  the  acceptance  ^  of 
I  Rien::i  and  Der  Ftiegende  Ilolldndfr,  the  first  two '.operas 
I  of  Richard  Wagner,  who,  then  languishing  in  povcrty^nd 
exile,  would,  but  for  him,  have  found   it    impossible  _tc 
obtain  a  hearing  in  Berlin.     With  Jenny  Lind,  as  prima 
donna  and  Jleyerbcer  as  conductor,  the  opera^,flourishcd 
brilliantly, in, the  Prussian  capital;  but , the'^ansicticSj^o' 
this  thankless  period .  materially^  shortened  ithelcompoier's 
life.'  ^     .  _     _        __       _.'^  ^     .         _ 

'Meyerbeer"  produced ^£(!  !7'ro/)//<;^f''atTPafis'  in  ]819"; 
and,  if  it  did  not  at  firc.t  create  so  great  a  sensation  as  Les 
jfft/^r.'cr.o.'.'i^his  was  simply  because  it  needed  to  Ic.bet'ei 


M  E  Z  — M  I  A 


223 


known.  In  1854  he  brought  out  L'^toile  du  Nord  at  the 
Opira  Comique,  and  in  1859  Le  Pardon  de  Ploermel 
(Dinorah).  His  last  great  work,  L' Afrkaine,  was  in  active 
preparation  at  the  Acad^mie  when,  on  the  23d  of  April 
1863  he  was  seized  with  a  sudden  illness,  of  which  he 
died  on  the  2d  of  May. .  L'Africaine  was  produced  with 
pious  attention  to  the  composer's  minutest  wishes,  on 
April  28,  1865,  and  fully  justified  the  expectation  which 
had  been  raised  by  his  long  and  painstaking  consideration 
of  its  details.  'Upon  this,  in  conjunction  with  Robert  le 
Diahle,  Les  Huguenots,  and  Le  Prophete,  his  fame  now 
almost  entirely  rests. 

Meyerbeer's  genius  has  been  criticized  with  widely  different  re- 
mits. Mendelssohn  thought  his  style  exaggerated ;  Fetis  thought 
him  one  of  the  most  original  geniuses  of  the  age  ;  Wagner  calls 
tim  "a  miserable  music-maker,"  and  "a  Jewish  banker  to  whom 
it  occurred  to  compose  operas."  But  the  reality  of  his  talent 
has  been  recognized  throughout  all  Europe  ;  and,  in  spite  of  the 
acknowledged  crudity  of  his  system  of  phrasing,  and  the  inequality 
of  merit  too  plainly  ohserrabie  even  in  nis  greatest  works,  his  name 
will  live  so  long  as  intensity  of  passion  and  power  of  dramatic 
treatment  are  regarded  as  indispensable  characteristics  of  dramatic 
music.  (W.  B.  E.) 

M^ZlfeRES,  a  fortress  of  the  first  class,  and  the  capital 
of  the  department  of  Ardennes,  France,  is  161  miles  to  the 
north-east  of  Paris  by  railway,  on  a  peninsula  of  the 
Meuse,  which  almost  entirely  surrounds  the  town,  and 
separates  it  from  its  more  important  suburb,  CharleviUe. 
The  fortifications,  which,  as  well  as  the  citadel,  are  the 
work  of  Vauban,  are  pierced  by  four  gates,  giving  aecess 
to  the  town,  the  streets  of  which  are  narrow  and  winding. 
The  parish  church,  erected  in  the  16th  century,  contains  two 
inscriptions  in  commemoration  respectively  of  the  raising 
of  the  siege  of  iKzieres  in  1521  and  the  marriage  of 
Charles  IX.  with  the  daughter  of  the  emperor  Maximilian 
n.,  which  was  celebrated  at  M(Sziferes  in  1570.  The  north 
and  south  portals,  the  glass  of  the  windows,  and  the  lofty 
vaultings  of  the  church  are  worthy  of  remark.  The  h6tel 
de  viDe  contains  several  interesting  pictures  relating  to  the 
history  of  the  town.  The  iron  industry,  the  only  one  of 
any  importance,  is  being  gradually  transferred  to  Charle- 
ville.     The  popiilation  in  1881  was  6120. 

Founded  in  the  9th  century,  Mezieres  was  at  first  only  a  strong- 
hold belonging  to  the  bishops  of  Rheims,  which  afterwards  became 
the  property  of  the  counts  of  Rethel.  The  town  was  increased  by 
successive  immigrations  of  the  people  of  Liege,  flying  first  from  the 
emperor  Otho,  and  afterwards  from  Charles  the  Bold  ;  and  also  by 
poncessions  from  the  counts  of  Rethel.  Its  walls  were  built  in  the 
13th  century,  and  in  1521  it  was  successfully  defended  by  Bayard 
'against  the  imperialists.  The  anniversary  of  the  deliverance  of  the 
town  is  still  observed  yearly  on  the  27th  of  September.  The  school 
of  military  engineering,  since  transfeixed  successively  to  Metz  and 
Fontainebleau,  was  originally  founded  at  Mezieres. 

MEZO-Tl)R,'  a  corporate  town  in  the  Cis-Tisian  county 
of  J4s2-Nagy-Kun-Szolnok,  Hungary,  situated  on  the  right 
bank  of  the  Beretty6,  and  on  the  railway  from  Arad  to 
Szolnok,  in  47°  1'  N.  lat.,  20-  39'  E.  long.  It  has  Eoman 
Catholic  and  Calvinist  churches  and  schools,  a  judicial 
court  for  the  circuit,  and  the  usual  Government  offices,  but 
can  boast  of  few  buildings  of  special  interest.  Horses, 
oxen,  and  sheep  are  reared  in  great  numbers  on  the  wide- 
spreading  communal  lands,  which  are  productive  also  of 
cereals,  and  especially  wheat,  rape-seed,  and  maize.  On 
the  31st  December  1880  the  population  amounted  to 
20,649  (10,265  males,  10,384  females),  mostly  Magyars 
by  nationality. 

MEZZOFAKTI,  Gixtseppe  (1774-1849),  cardinal,  whose 
colloquial  linguistic  acquirements  have  become  proverbial, 
was  bom,  September  17,  1774,  at  Bologna,  where  his 
father  followed  the  occupation  of  a  carpenter.  Educated 
first  at  one  of   the  "scuole  pie,"  and  afterwards  at  the 


'  Mezii  is  a  Magyar  word,  signifying  Field,  prefixed  to  many  agri- 
csUoral  localities  in  Hungary. 


episcopal  seminary  of  his  native  city,  he  was  ordained  to 
the  priesthood  in  1797,  and  in  the  same  year  became  pro- 
fessor of  Arabic  In  the  universitj',  but  shortly  afterwards 
was  deprived  on  account  of  his  refusal  to  take  the  oath  of 
allegiance  to  the  Government  of  the  Cisalpine  Republic. 
In  1803,  however,  he  was  appointed  assistant  librarian  of 
the  institute  of  Bologna,  and  soon  afterwards  was  reinstated 
as  professor  of  Oriental  languages  and  of  Greek.  The 
chair  was  suppressed  by  the  viceroy  in  1808,  but  aga^n 
rehabilitated  on  the  restoration  of  Pius  VEL  in  1814,  and 
continued  to  be  held  by  Mezzofanti  until  his  removal  from 
Bologna  to  Rome  in  1831,  when  he  received  certain  ecclesi- 
astical appointments  and  the  rank  of  monsignore.  Mean- 
while his  progress  in  the  acquirement  of  languages  had 
been  rapid  and  untiring,  and  in  1833  he  was  appointed  to 
succeed  Mai  as  chief  keeper  of  the  Vatican  Library.  His 
promotion  to  the  cardinalate,  and  the  duties  of  director  of 
studies  in  the  Congregation  of  the  Propaganda,  followed  in 
1838.  He  died  at  Rome,  during  the  absence  of  the 
pontifical  court  at  Gaeta,  on  March  15,  1849. 

Mezzofanti's  peculiar  talent,  comparable  in  many  respects  to  that 
of  the  numerous  "calculating  boys  "  who  have  been  the  wonder  of 
their  contemporaries,  was  not  combined  with  any  exceptional 
measure  of  intellectual  power,  and  accordingly  produced  nothing 
that  has  not  perished  with  him.  It  seems  to  be  well  established, 
however,  that  he  spoke  with  considerable  fluency,  and  in  some  cases 
even  with  attention  to  dialectic  peculiarities,  some  fifty  or  sixty 
languages  of  the  most  widely  separated  families,  besides  having  a 
less  perfect  acquaintance  with  many  others.  See  Manavit,  Esquisse 
historique  sur  Ic  Cardinal  Mezzofanti,  Paris,  1854  ;  and  Russell, 
Life  of  the  Cardinal  Mezzofanti,  Loudon,  1857. 

MEZZOTINT.     See  Enoeavihg. 

MIAUTSE.  The  Miautse  or  Meaou-tsze  of  southern 
China  are  one  of  the  aboriginal  tribes  of  the  country. 
At  one  time  they  occupied  a  considerable  portion  of  the 
rich  and  fertile  lands  which  now  form  the  central  province 
of  the  empire,  but  as  the  Chinese  advanced  southwards 
they  were  driven,  like  the  Ainos  in  Japan  and  the  Welsh 
in  Britain,  into  the  more  inaccessible  districts  until  they 
were  compelled  to  seek  refuge  from  the  invaders  in  the 
mountain  ranges,  in  the  provinces  of  Yunnan,  Kwei-chow, 
Kwang-se,  and  Kwang-tung,  where  they  are  found  at  the 
present  day.  This  line  of  mountains  extends  for  about 
400  miles,  and,  being  in  many  parts  high,  steep,  and  rugged, 
it  forms  a  convenient  shelter  for  them.  As  early  as  the 
reign  of  king  Seuen  (about  800  b.c.)  we  read  of  an  expedi- 
tion having  been  sent  to  drive  them  out  of  Hoo-nan,  and 
since  that  time  they  have  been  periodically  attacked  either 
to  punish  them  for  misdeeds  or  to  make  them  yield  up 
vineyards  coveted  by  Chinese  Ahabs.  The  last  important 
campaign  against  them  was  undertaken  by  the  emperor 
K'een-lung,  who,  having  completely  subjugated  the  Eleuths, 
was  desirous  of  bringing  under  his  yoke  these  mountain 
tribesmen.  But  the  same  success  which  had  attended  his 
arms  in  the  north  did  not  follow  them  to  the  south.  The 
first  expedition  was  utterly  defeated,  and  the  general  in 
command  paid  the  penalty  of  discomfiture  with  his  head. 
The  leader  of  a  second  expedition,  having  learned  wisdom 
by  the  fate  of  his  predecessor,  purchased  the  submission  of 
the  iliautse  by  a  large  bribe.  As  soon  as  the  unsuspecting 
savages  had  been  thus  lulled  into  security  a  third  army 
was  set  in  motion  against  them.  This  time,  being  unpre- 
pared, they  suffered  a  crushing  defeat,  and  were  compelled 
to  purchase  peace  by  swearing  allegiance  to  their  conquerors. 
But,  though  the  Chinese  thus  gained  sovereignty  over  them, 
they  have  since  deemed  it  wise  to  content  themselves  with 
but  the  shadow  of  authority.  No  real  jurisdiction  is  ever 
exercised  over  these  hardy  mountaineers.  They  are  allowed 
to  govern  themselves  on  their  own  patriarchal  system.  The 
old  men  of  each  tribe  manage  the  affairs  of  their  juniors, 
and  command  an  obedience  which  would  be  utterly  refused 
to  the  mandate  of  any  mandarin.     In  figure  the  Miautse. 


224 


M  I  C  — 'M!  I  C 


both  men  and  women,  are  shorter  and  darkercomplexionej 
than  the  Chinese,  their  fstces  also  are  rounder  and  their 
features  sharper.  In  disposition,  too,  they  are  very  unlike 
their  civilized  neighbours.  They  are  brave,  passionate, 
suspicious,  revengeful,  and  indifferent  to  cold  and  hunger ; 
they  ara  free  and  easy  in  their  manners,  and  are  as  noisily 
joyous  as  the  Chinese  are  grave  and  sedate. 

They  are  divided  into  between  forty  and  fifty  clans,  each  of  which 
is  distinguished  by  a  name  which  is  generally  derived  either  from 
some  physical  characteristic,  or  from  some  custom,  or  from  the 
habitat  of  the  clan,  as,  for  example,  "The  Black  Miau,"  "the 
uarrow-headed  Miau,"  so  named  from  their  manner  of  dressing 
their  hair,  "the  six-valley  Miau,"  ic.  Among  these  clans  there 
exist  wide  differences  of  culture,  some  being  in  no  way  removed 
from  savages,  whileothers  who  have  been  brought  under  the  influence 
of  Chinese  civilization  show  themselves  apt  and  ready  learners. 
Very  few  of  them,  so  far  as  is  known,  possess  any  written  records. 
The  Yaou'jin,  or  Goblin  clan,  are  said  to  have  books,  which,  though 
th»jy  are  now  unable  to  read,  they  still  regard  with  reverent  awe. 
"The  barbarous  characters"  used  in  these  books  are,  according  to  a 
Oiiinese  writer,  "like  knotted  worms,  and  are  utterly  unintelligible." 
The  Ko-los  also  are  said  to  be  a  lettered  clan,  but  for  the  most  part 
the  Miautse  content  themselves  with  conveying  information  and 
preserving  records  by  means  of  notched  sticks.  Their  language  as 
well  as  their  ethnic  characteristics  prove  them  to  be  closely  related  to 
the  Siamese,  Anamese,  Cambodians,  and  the  inhabitants  of  Hainan ; 
in  fact  fhey  form  part  of  the  race  which  is  spread  over  the  whole  of 
south-e'astem  Indo-China.  Their  social  customs  are  as  widely 
different  as  their  appearance  ia^  from  those  of  the  Chinese.  The 
widest  latitude  is  given  to  the  youth  of  both  sexes  in  the  choice  of 
their  husbands  and  wives.  As  among  the  hill  tribes  of  Chittagong, 
the  selection  is  commonly  made  on  the  mountain  side,  where  on  moon- 
light nights  in  the  "  leaping  month  "  the  young  men  and  maidens 
meet  to  sing  or  to  play  at  ball,  or  to  dance  round  the  "devil's  staff" 
[Anglice,  Maypole), and tochoosetheirparfnersforlife.  Amongsome 
clans  the  "couvade"  is  an  established  custom.  Their  fuueral  rites 
vary  according  to  the  districts,  those  living  within  reach  of  the  influ- 
ence of  the  Chinese  having  adopted  their  customs,  while  those  more 
remote  still  hang  their^ead  in  baskets  from  trees,  or  lay  them  in  the 
ground  and  disinter  them  yearly  to  wash  their  bones.  In  dress  they 
are  fond  of  bright  colours,  and  commonly  wear  loose  but  short 
jackets,  sometimes  with  and  sometimes  without  trousers.  The  men 
wear  turbans  wound  rounri  their  hair,  which  is  raised  above  the 
head  in  the  shape  of  a  spiral  shell,  and  the  women  either  don  a 
kind  of  cap,  or  dress  theu"  hair  in  the  shape  of  a  ram's  horn.  For 
many  years  the  relations  of  the  Miautse  with  the  Chinese  Govern- 
ment have  been  generally  of  a  peaceable  nature,  and  in  the  Pck'ing 
Gazette  of  April  1881  there  was  published  a  new  system  of 
government  by  which  it  is  hoped  that  the  incorporation  of  the 
mountaineers  into  the  empire  may,  become  more  real  and  complete. 

See  Sketches  of  the  Miaa-ULe,  translated  by  E.G.  Brldgman  ;  J.  Edkias.  The  Miau- 
tti  Tribes,  their  Bistort/',  and  *'Quaint  customs  In  Kwel-chow,"  Cornhill  Magazine, 
January  1872, 

MICAH  (^?'P)  ia  the  short  form  of  a  name  which  in 
various  modifications — Mlco.idhu,  MicdiShu,  Mlcdiah — is 
common  in  the  Old  Testament,  expressing  as  it  does  a 
fundamental  point  of  Hebrew  faith  :  \VTio  is  like  Jehovah  ? 
The  name  "was  borne  among  others  by  the  Danite  whose 
history  is  given  in  Judg.  xvii.  sq.,  by  the  prophet  who 
opposed  Ahab's  expedition  to  Ramoth-Qilead  (1  Kings 
xxii.),  and  by  the  subject  of  the  present  article,  the  con- 
temporary and  fellow-worker  of  Isaiah,  whose  name  is 
prefixed  to  the  sixth  in  order  of  the  books  of  the  minor 
prophets.'' 

It  is  at-  once  apparent  that  the  book  of  Micah  divides 
itself  into  at  Least  two  distinct  discourses,  chap.  \\.  1 
forming  a  new  commencement ;  and  from  what  we  know 
in  general  of  the  compilation  of  the  prophetic  collection  we 
cannot  at  once  determine  whether  the  second  discourse, 
which  has  no  title,  is  to  bo  ascribed  to  iho  author  of  the 
immediately  preceding  prophecy,  or  is  to  be  regarded  as  an 
independent  and  anonymous  piece.  To  decide  this  question, 
if  it  can  be  decided,  we  must  begin  by  a  separate  study  of 
the  earlier  chapters  to  which  the  title  in  Micah  i.  1  directly 
belongs.  These  again  fall  into  two  parts.  Chaps,  i.-iii. 
(with  the  exception  of  two  verses,  ii.  12,  13)  are  a  predic- 

*  A  confusion  between  the  two  prophets  of  the  name  has  led  to  the 
Inaertion  in  the  Masaoretic  text  of  1  Kir.fjs  Xiii.  28  of  a  citation  from 
Micah  i.  2,  rightly  absent  from  the  LiX. 


tion  of  judgment  on  the  sins  of  Judah  and  Ephraim.  Ia 
a  majestic  exordium  Jehovah  Himself  ia  represented  aa 
coming  forth  in  the  thunderstorm  (comp.  Amos  L  2)  from 
His  heavenly  palace,  and  descending  on  the  mountains  of 
Palestine,  at  once  as  witness  against  His  people,  and  the 
eiecuter  of  judgment  on  their  sins.  Samaria  is  sentenced 
to  destruction  for  idolatry  ;  and  the  blow  extends  to  Judah 
also,  which  participates  in  the  same  guilt  (chap.  i.).  But, 
while  Samaria  is  summarily  dismissed,  *he  sin  of  Judah  is 
analysed  at  length  in  chaps,  n.  and  iii.,  in  which  the  prophet 
no  longer  deals  with  idolatry,  but  with  the  corruption  of 
society,  and  particularly  of  its  leaders — the  grasping 
aristocracy  whose  whole  energies  are  concentrated  on 
devouring  the  poor  and  depriving  them  of  their  little 
holdings,  the  unjust  judges  and  priests  who  for  gain 
wrest  the  law  in  favour  of  the  rich,  the  hireling  and 
gluttonous  prophets  who  make  war  against  every  one 
"that  putteth  not  into  their  mouth,"  but  are  ever  ready 
with  assurances  of  Jehovah's  favour  to  their  patrons,  the 
wealthy  and  noble  sinners  that  fatten  on  the  flesh  of  the 
poor.  The  prophet  speaks  with  the  strongest  personal 
sympathy  of  the  sufferings  of  the  peasantry  at  the  hands 
of  their  lords,  and  contemplates  with  stem  satisfaction  the 
approach  of  the  destroyer  who  shall  carry  into  e.xile  "  the 
luxurious  sons"  of  this  race  of  petty  tyrants  (i.  "16),  and 
leave  them  none  to  stretch  the  measuring  line  on  a  field  in 
the  congregation  of  Jehovah  (ii.  5).  The  centre  of  corrup- 
tion ia  the  capital,  the  city  of  Zion,  grown  great  on  the 
blood  and  wrongs  of  the  provincials,  the  seat  of  the  cruel 
princes,  the  corrupt  judges  and  diviners.  For  their  sake, 
he  concludes,  Zion  shall  be  plowed  as  a  field,  Jerusalem 
shall  lie  in  ruins,  and  the  temple  hUl  return,  to  jungle 
(iii.  12). 

The  situation  thus  sketched  receives  its  elucidation  from 
the  data  supplied  by  the  title  (i.  1)  and  confirmed  ant', 
rendered  more  precise  by  a  remarkable  passage  in  Jeremic.li. 
According  to  the  title  Micah  flourished  in  the  reign.';  of 
Jotham,  Ahaz,  and  Hezekiah ;  according  to  Jeremiah 
(xxvi.  18  sq.)  the  prophecj-of  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem 
just  cited  was  spoken  under  Hezekiah,  and  bore  fruit  in 
the  repentance  of  king  and  people,  by  which  the  judgment 
was  averted.  The  allusion  beyond  doubt  is  to  Hezekiah's 
work  of  religious  reformation  (2  Kings  xviii.  4  sq.).  It  is 
hardly  possible  to  separate  this  reformation  from  the  influ- 
ence of  Isaiah,  which  did  not  become  practical  in  the 
conduct  of  the  state  till  the  crisis  of  Sennacherib's  invasion ; 
and  the  conclusion  that  Hezekiah  was  not  from  the  first  a 
reforming  king,  which  is  forced  on  us  by  many  passages  of 
Isaiah,  is  confirmed  by  the  prophecy  of  Micah,  which,  after 
Hezekiah's  accession,  still  represents  wickedness  as  seated 
in  the  high  places  of  the  kingdom.  The  internal  disorders 
of  the  realm  depicted  by  Micah  are  also  prominent  in 
Isaiah's  prophecies  ;  they  were  closely  connected,  not'  only 
with  the  foreign  complications  due  to  the  approach  of  the 
Assyrians,  but  with  the  break-up  of  the  old  agrarian 
system  within  Israel,  and  with  the  rapid  and  uncompen- 
sated aggrandisement  of  the  nobles  during  those  pro- 
sperous years  when  the  conquest  of  Edom  by  Amaziah 
and  the  occupation  of  the  port  of  Elath  by  his  son 
(2  Kings  xiv.  7,  22)  placed  the  lucrative  trade  between 
the  Mediterranean  and  the  Rod  Sea  in  the  hands  of 
the  rulers  of  Judah.  On  the  other  hand  the  democratic 
tone  which  distinguishes  Micah  from  Isaiah,  and  his 
announcement  of  the  impending  fall  of  the  capital  (th» 
deliverance  of  which  from  the  Assyrian  appears  to  Isaiah 
as  the  ni^cessarj-  condition  for  the  preserv'ation  of  the  seed  of 
a  new  a^J  better  kingdom),  are  explained  by  the  fact  that, 
while  Isaiah  lived  in  the  centre  of  affairs,  Micah  was  a 
Moraathi;-'  or  inhabitant  of  Moresheth  Oath,  a  place  near 
the  Philistine  frontier  so  unimportant  as  to  be  mentioned 


M  I  C  A  H 


225 


only  in  Jlicah  L  i4.*  The  provincial  prophet  sees  the  I 
capital  and  the  aristocracy  entirely  from  the  side  of  a  man. 
of  the  oppressed  people,  and  foretells  the  utter  ruin  of  both. 
But  this  ruin  does  not  present  itself  to  him  as  involving 
the  captivity  or  ruin  of  the  nation  as  a  whole ;  the 
congregation  of  Jehovah  remains  in  Judsea  when  the 
oppressors  are  cast  out  (ii.  5) ;  Jehovah's  words  are  still 
good  to  them  that  walk  uprightly ;  the  glory  of  Israel  is 
driven  to  take  refuge  in  Adullam,  as  in  the  days  when 
David's  band  of  broken  men  was  the  true  hope  of  the 
nation,  but  there  is  no  hint  that  it  is  banished  from  the 
land.  Thus  upon  the  prophecy  of  judgment  we  naturally 
eipect  to  follow  a  prophecy  of  the  redintegration  of 
Jehovah's  kingship  in  a  better  Israel,  and  this  we  find  in 
ii.  12,  13  and  in  chaps,  iv.,  v.  Both  passages,  however, 
present  diflSculties.  The  former  seems  to  break  the  pointed 
contrast  between  Ii:  11  and  iii.  1,  and  is  therefore  regarded 
by  Ewald  as  an  example  of  the  false  prophecies  on  which 
the  wicked  rulers  trusted.  The  thought,  however,  is  one 
proper  to  all  true  prophecy  (comp.  Hos.  i.  11  [ii.  2],  Isa. 
si.  11  sq.,  Zeph.  iii.  14,  Jer.  xxxi.  8),  and  precisely  in 
accordan-i  with  chaps,  iv.,  v.,  even  in  the  details  of  expres- 
sion and  imagery.*  It  is  indeed  possible  that  these  verses 
are  a  separate  oracle  of  Micah,  which  did  not  originally 
stand  in  its  present  connexion.  The  sequence  of  thought 
in  chaps  iv.,  v.,  on  the  other  hand,  is  really  difiicult,  and 
lias  given  rise,  to  much  complicated  discu-ssion.^  There  is  a 
growing  feeling  among  scholars  that  iv.  11-13  stands  in 
direct  contradiction  to  iv.  9,  10,  and  indeed  to  iii.  12. 
The  last  two  passages  agree  in  speaking  of  the  capture  of 
Jerusalem,  the  first  declares  Zion  inviolable,  and  its  capture 
an  impossible  profanation.  Such  a  thought  can  hardly  be 
Micah's,  even  rf  we  resort  to  the  violent  harmonistic  process 
of  imagining  that  two  quite  distinct  sieges,  separated  by  a 
lenewal  of  the  theocracy,  are  spoken  of  in  consecutive 
verses.  An  interpolation,  however,  in  the  spirit  of  such 
passages  as  Ezek.  xxxviii.,  xxxix.j  Joel  iii.  [iv.],  Zech.  siv., 
•3  very  conceivable  in  post-exilic  times,  and  in  connexion 
.vith  the  growing  impulse  to  seek  a  literal  harmony  of  all 
prophecy  on  lines  very  different  from  the  pre-exilic  view 
in  Jer.  xxvi.,  that  predictions  of  evil  may  be  averted  by 
repentance.  Another  difficulty  lies  in  the  words  "and 
thou  shalt  come  even  to  Babylon"  in  iv.  10.  Micah 
'jnquestionably  looked  for  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem  as 


'  Tliat  Micah  lived  in  the  Shephela  or  Judx;\n  lowland  near  the 
Philistine  country  is  dear  from  the  local  colouring  of  i.  10  sg.,  where 
n  number  of  places  in  this  quarter  are  mentioned  together,  and  their 
names  played  upon  in  a  way  that  could  hardly  have  suggested  itself 
to  any  but  a  man  of  the  district.  The  paronomasia  makes  the  verses 
difficult,  and  in  i.  14  nono  of  the  ancieut  versions  recognizes  More- 
sheth  Gath  as  a  proper  name.  The  word  Morasthite  {Mdrtishti)  was 
therefore  obscure  to  thera ;  but  this  only  gives  greater  weight  to  the 
traditional  pronunciation  with  d  in  the  first  syllable,  which  is  as  old 
as  the  I.XX.,  and  goes  against  the  view,  taken  by  the  Targum  both  on 
Micali  and  on  Jeremiah,  and  followed  by  some  modems  (including 
Roorda),  that  Micah  came  from  Mareshah.  When  Eusebius  places 
MupatrOfi  near  £l6uthert)poli3  it  is  not  likely  that  ho  is  thinking  of 
Mareshah  (Mai-esa),  for  he  speaks  of  the  former  as  a  village  and  of  the 
latter  as  a  ruin  2  miles  from  Eleutheropolis.  Jerome  too  in  the 
Epic.  PaxUa  {Ep.  cvui.),  speaking  as  an  eye. witness,  distinguishes 
Morasthim,  with  the  church  of  Micah's  sepulchre,  from  Maresa.  This 
indeed  was  after  the.pretended  miraculous  discovery  of  the  relics  of 
Micah  in  385  A.D. ;  but  the  name  of  the  village  which  then  existed 
{Prmf.  in  Mich.)  can  hardly  have  been  part  of  a  pious  fraud.    .    '*■    • 

'  The  figure  of  the  shepherd  gathering  a  scattered  flock  certainly 
does  not  presuppose  a  total  captivity,  as  Stade  {Z.  /.  AT.  IF.,  i.  161 
«7.)  argues.  .  v-»-  ■,. 

.•See.besidesthecommentaries,  Noldekeinthe  SiW-Jer.;  iv.  21i;  a 
paper  by  Oort  and  two  by  Kuenen  in  Theol.  TijdKh.,  1872;  Well- 
■hausen-Bleek,  Einkitung,  p.  426;  Stade,  I.e.,  and  ibid.,  iii.  1  57. 
Stade  goes  so  far  as  to  malte  the  whole  of  Micah  iv.,  v.  presuppose  the 
exile,  and  to  find  still  latef  additions  in  iv.  5-10.,  v.  5,  6  [v.  4,  6]. 
Jfcsebrecht,  Tkcol.  LZ.,  1381,  col.  443  sj.,  rejects  chap.  iv.  only. 
^0  arguments  cannot  be  here  cited  at  length,  but  they  are  tacitly 
upt  in  view  in  what  follows 


well  as  of  Samaria  in  the  near  future  and  by  the  Assyrians 
(i.  9),  and  this  was  the  judgment  which  Hezekiah's  repent- 
ance averted.  If  these  words,  therefore,  belong  to  the 
original  context,  they  mark  it  as  not  from  Micah's  hand ; 
but  it  is  easy  to  see  that  they  are  really  a  later  gloss.  The 
prophetic  thought  is  that  the  daughter  (population)  of  Zioii 
shall  not  be  saved  by  her  present  rulers  or  defensive 
strength;  she  must  come  down  from  her  bulwarks  and 
dwell  in  the  open  field ;  there,  and  not  within  her  proud 
ramparts,  Jehovah  will  grant  deliverance  from  her  enemies. 
This  thought  is  in  precise  harmony  with  chaps,  i.-iii.,  and 
equally  characteristic  is  what  follows  in  chap.  v.  Slicah's 
opposition  to  present  tyranny  expresses  itself  in  recurrence 
to  the  old  popular  ideal  of  the  first  simple  Davidic  kingdom 
(iv.  8)  to  which  he  had  already  alluded  in  i.  15.  These 
old  days  shall  return  once  more.  Again  guerilla  bands 
(inrna)  gather  to  meet  the  foe  as  they  did  in  the  time 
of  Philistine  oppression.  A  new  David,  like  him  whose 
exploits  in  the  district  of  Micah's  home  were  still  in  the 
mouths  of  the  common  people,  goes  forth  from  Bethlehem 
to  feed  the  flock  in  the  strength  of  Jehovah.  The  kindred 
Hebrew  nations  are  once  more  united  to  their  brethren  of 
Israel  (comp.  Amos  ix.  12,  Isa.  xvi.  1  eq.).  The  remnant 
of  Jacob  springs  up  in  fresh  \-igour,  inspiring  terror  among 
the  surrounding  peoples,  and  there  is  no  lack  of  chosen 
captains  to  lead  them  to  victory  against  the  Assyrian  foe. 
In  the  rejuvenescence  of  the  nation  the  old  stays  of  that 
oppressive  kingship  which  began  with  Solomon,  the  strong- 
holds, the  fortified  cities,  the  chariots  and  horses  so  foreign 
to  the  life  of  ancient  Israel,  are  no  more  known ;  they 
disappear  together  with  the  divinations,  the  soothsayers, 
the  idols,  the  jiiag^ebas  and  asheras  of  the  high  places 
Jehovah  is  king  on  Mount  Zion,  and  no  invention"  of  man 
come  between  Him  and  His  people. 

The  elements  of  this  picture,  drawn  so  largely  from  the 
most  cherished  memories  of  the  Judseans,  could  not  fail  to 
produce  a  wide  impression,  especially  when  the  invasion  of 
Sennacherib,  although  it  spared  Jerusalem,  fulfilled  in  the 
most  striking  ■n-ay  a  great  part  of  Micah's  predictions  of 
judgment.  Of  this  we  have  evidence",  not  only  in  Jer.  xxvi., 
but  in  the  political  and  religious  ideas  of  the  book  of 
Deuteronomy.  The  picture  of  the  right  king  (Deut.  xvii. 
14  sj.)  and  the  condemnation  of  the  high-places  alike 
follow  the  doctrine  of  Micah. 

A  difficulty  still  remains  in  the  opening  verses  of  chap.  iv. 
Micah  iv.  1-3  and  Isa.  ii.  2-4  are  but  slightly  modified  recensions 
of  the  same  text,  and  as  Isa.  ii.  is  older  than  the  prophecy  of  Micah, 
while  on  the  other  hand  Micah  iv.  4  seems  the  natural  completion 
pf  the  passage,  it  is  common  to  suppose  that  both  copy  an  older 
prophet.  But  the  words  have  little  connexion  with  the  context  in 
Isaiah,  and  may  be  the  quotation  of  a  copyist  suggested  by  ver.  5. 
On  the  other  hand  it  has  been  urged  that  the  pa.ssage  belongs  to  a 
later  stage  of  prophetic  thought  than  the  8th  century  B.C.  There 
is,  however,  no  real  difficulty  in  the  idea  that  foreign  nations  shall 
seek  law  and  arbitrament  at  the  throne  of  the  king  of  Zion  (comp. 
the  old  prophecy  Isa.  xvi.);  and  the  mention  of  the  temple  as  the 
seat  of  Jeliovah's  sovereignty  may  he  illustrated  by  Isa.  vi.,  where  the 
heavenly  palace  (Micah  i.  3)  is  at  least  pictured  in  the  likeness  of  the 
temple  on  Zion.  At  the  same  time  the  Jerusalem  of  Micah  iv.  8 
is  the  Jerusalem  of  David  not  of  Solomon,  the  ideas  of  iv.  1-4  do 
not  reappear  in  chap.  v. ,  and  the  whole  prophecy  would  perhaps  be 
more  consecutive  and  homogeneous  if  iv.  6  (where  the  dispersed  and 
the  suffering  are,  according  to  chap.  ii. ,  the  victims  of  domestic  not 
of  foreign  oppression)  followed  directly  on  iii.  12. 

The  sixth  chapter  of  Micah  presents  a  very  different  situation 
from  chaps,  i.-v.  Jehovah  appears  to  plead  with  his  people  for  their 
sins,  but  the  sinners  are  no  longer  a  careless  and  oppressive  aristo- 
cracy buoyed  up  by  deceptive  assurances  of  Jehovah's  help;  by  pro- 
phecies of  wine  and  strong  drink  ;  they  are  bowed  down  by  a 
religion  of  terror,  wearied  with  attempts  to  propitiate  an  ongry  God 
by  countless  offerings,  and  even  by  the  sacrifice  of  the  first-bom. 
Meantime  the  sub.stance  of  true  religion — justice,  charity,  and  a 
humble  walk  with  God— is  forgotten,  fraud  and  deceit  reign  in  all 
classes,  the  works  of  the  house  of  Ahab  are  observed  (worship  of 
foreign  gods).  Jehovah's  judgments  are  multiplied  against  the 
laud,  and  the  issue  can  bo  nothing  else  than  its  total  desolation.  All 

XVI.   —  20 


226 


MIC  —  M  1  C 


tnese  marks  fit  exactly  the  evil  times  of  jranasseh  as  described  in 
2  Kings  xxi.  Chap.  vii.  1-6,  in  whirli  the  public  and  private  cor- 
ruption of  a  hopijess  ago  is  bitterly  bewailed,  obviously  belongs  to 
the  same  context  (comp.  vol.  xiii.  p.  415)..  Jlicah  may  very  well 
have  lived  into  Manasseh's  reign,  but  the  title  in  i.  1  does  not  cover 
a  pronhecy  which  certainly  falls  after  Hezekiah's  death,  and  the 
style  has  nothing  in  common  with  tlie  earlier  part  of  tlie  book.  It 
is  tlierefore  prudent  to  regard  the  pronhecy,  with  Ewald,  as  anony- 
mous. Ewald  ascribes  the  whole  of  chaps,  vi.,  vii.  to  one  author. 
Welihausen,  however,  remarks  with  justice  that  the  thread  is 
abruptly  broken  at  vii.  6,  and  that  verses  7-20  represent  Zion  as 
already  fallen  before  the  heathen  and  her  inhabitants  as  pining  in 
the  darkness  of  captivity.  The  hope  of  Zion  is  in  future  restora- 
tion after  she  has  patiently  borne  the  chastisement  of  her  sins. 
Then  Jehovah  shall  arise  mindful  of  His  oath  to  the  fathers,  Israel 
sliall  be  forgiven  and  restored,  and  the  heathen'  humbled.  Tlie  faith 
and  hope  whi^h  breathe  in  this  passage  have  the  closest  affinities 
wich  the  book  of  Lamentations  and  Isa.  xl.-!xvi. 

Wc  have  seen  that  the  text  of  MIcah  has  suffered  from  redactors ;  it  Is  also  not 
free  from  verb.il  corruptions  \vhlch  make  sc.mo  places  very  obscure.  The  LXX 
had  many  readmga  dlHerent  from  the  present  Hebrew,  but  tb'eir  text  too  was  far 
fiom  sound.  Of  commentaries  on  Micah,  that  which  deals  most  fully  with  the 
question  of  the  text  Is  Roorda's  Latin  work,  Lcyden,  186!).  The  most  elaborate 
book  on  .Mleah  Is  Casparl's  (Utrber  ilicha  den  iloratthilen  uud  seine  prophet isdie 
Srhh/l,  Chrlstiania,  1851-02).  In  EnRllsh  Pocock's  Commentary  <2d  cd.,  1CD2) 
and  Cheytie's  ificah  (1832)  arc  to  be  noted.  See  also  the  literature  on  the  minor 
Fi'o°i''r"  '"  ecncral  cited  under  Hosea,  and  W.  R.  Smith's  Prophets  of  Isra 
C™^)'  ,  (W.  R.  S.) 

MICHAEL  (?!<3'P,  "  who  is  like  God ! ")  appears  in  the 
Old  Testament  as  a  man's  name,  synonj-mous  with  Mieaiah 
or  Micah.  In  the  book  of  Daniel  the  same  name  is  given 
to  one  of  the  chief  "  princes "  of  the  heavenly  host,  the 
guardian  angel  or  "  prince  "  of  Israel  (Dan.  x.  13,  21  ;  xii. 
1),  and  as  such  he  naturally  appears  in  Je\vish  theosophy 
as  the  greatest  of  all  angels,  the  first  of  the  four  who 
surround  the  throne  of  God  (see  Gabriel).  It  is  as 
guardian  angel  of  Israel,  or  of  the  church,  the  true  Israel, 
that  Michael  appears  in  Jude  9  and  Kev.  xii.  7.  In  the 
Western  Church  the  festival  of  St  Michael  and  All  Angels 
(Michaelmas)  is  celebrated  on  September  29th ;  it  appears 
to  have  grown  out  of  a  local  celebration  of  the  dedication 
of  a  church  of  St  Michael  either  at  Mount  Garganus  in 
Apulia  or  at  Rome,  and  was  a  great  day  by  the  beginning 
of  the  9th  century.  The  Greek  Church  dedicates 
November  8  to  St  Michael,  St  Gabriel,  and  All  Angels. 

MICHAEL,  the  name  of  several  Byzantine  emperors. 

Michael  I.  (Rhangabe)  was  an  obscure  nobleman 
who  had  married  Procopia,  the  daughter  of  Nicephorus  I., 
and  been  made  master  of  the  palace ;  his  elevation  to  the 
throne  was  due  to  a  revolutionary  movement  against  his 
brother-in-law  Stauracius,  who  reigned  only  two  months 
after  the  death  of  Nicephorus  on  the  battlefield  (812). 
Elected  as  the  tool  of  the  bigoted  orthodox  party  in  the 
church,  Michael  diligently  persecuted  the  Iconoclasts  on 
the  northern  and  eastern  frontiers  of  the  empire,  but 
meanwhile  allowed  the  Bulgarians  to  ravage  a  great  part 
of  Macedonia  and  Thrace ;  having  at  last  taken  the  field 
in  the  spring  of  813,  he  was  defeated  near  Bersinikia,  and 
Leo  the  Armenian  was  saluted  emperor  in  his  stead  in  the 
following  summer.  Michael,  after  having  been  compelled 
to  become  a  monk,  was  permitted  thenceforward  to  live 
unmolested  in  the  island  of  Prote,  where  he  died  in  845. 

Michael  II.  (Tlie  Stammerer),  a  native  of  Amorium 
in  Phrygia,  was  of  humble  origin,  and  began  life  as  a 
private  soldier,  but  rose  by  his  talents  and  assiduity  to  the 
rank  of  general.  He  v.'as  one  of  those  who  had  favoured 
the  election  to  the  throne  of  his  old  companion  in  arms 
Leo  the  Armenian  in  813,  but,  detected  in  a  conspiracy 
against  the  government  of  that  emperor,  had  been  sentenced 
to  death  in  December  820  ;  his  partisans,  however,  suc- 
ceeded in  assassinating  Leo  on  the  morning  of  Christmas 
Day,  and  called  Michael  from  the  prison  to  the  throne. 
The  principal  features  of  his  reign  (820-829)  were  a  pro- 
tracted struggle  (of  nearly  three  years)  against  his  brother 
general,  Thomas,  who  aimed  at  the  throne,  the  conquest 
of  Crete  by  the  Saracens  in  823,  and  the  beginning  of  thc'r 
attacks   upon   Sicily  (827).     Conciliatory   on   the   whole 


I  in  his  policy  towards  the  image  worshippers  (Lis  own 
.sympathies  were  iconoclastic),  he  incurred  the  wrath  of  the 
monks  by  entering  into  a  second  marriage  with  Euphrosyne, 
daughter  of  Constantino  VL,  who  had  previously  takea 
the  veil.  He  died  in  October  829,  and  was  succeeded  by 
Theophilus  his  son. 

Michael  HI.  (The  Drunkard)  was  the  grandson  of 
Michael  the  Stammerer,  and  succeeded  his  father  Theophilus 
when  only  three  years  of  age  (842).  Until  his  majority 
at  tba  age  of  eighteen  the  aflairs  of  the  empire  were 
managed  by  the  empress-regent  his  mother  Theodora ;  his 
education  was  shamefully  neglected,  and  it  was  during  this 
period  that  Michael  formed  the  disgraceful  personal  habits 
which  are  indicated  by  his  surname.  In  861  Michael, 
together  with  his  uncle  Bardas,  undertook  an  expedition 
againsit  the  Bulgarians,  which  resulted  in  the  con%ersion  of 
the  Bulgarian  king,  who  thenceforth  bore  the  Christian 
name  of  Michael.  The  emperor  had  been  less  successful 
in  the  campaign  which  he  led  in  person  against  Omar  of 
Melitene  in  860,  but  in  863  his  imcle  Petronas  gained  an 
important  victory  over  the  Saracens  in  Asia  Jlinor.  The 
year  865  was  marked  by  the  first  appearance  of  the  Russians 
in  the  Bosphorus.  Michael  was  assassinated  in  his  palace 
in  867  by  Basilius  the  jiacedonian,  whom  he  had  associated 
with  himself  in  the  empire  in  the  previous  year. 

Michael  IV.  (The  Paj'hlagonian)  owed  his  eleva- 
tion to  Zoe,  daughter  of  Constantino  IX.,  the  last  of 
the  Macedonian  dynasty ;  this  princess  was  married  to 
Romanus  HI.,  but  becoming  enamoured  of  Michael,  her 
chamberlain,  she  poisoned  her  husband  and  married  her 
attendant  (1034).  Jlichael,  however,  being  of  a  weak 
character  and  subject  to  epileptic  fits,  possessed  the  supreme 
power  only  in  name,  and  was  a  mere  instrimient  in  the 
hantls  of  his  brother,  John  the  Eunuch,  who  had  been  first 
minister  both  of  Constantine  and  Romanus.  John's 
diplomacy  was  successful  in  keeping  the  Arabs  in  the 
archipelago  and  Egj'pt  quiet  for  some  lime,  and  he  was 
at  last  able  to  secure  a  victory  for  the  imperial  arms  at 
Edessa  in  1037.  The  attempt  to  recover  Sicily  in  the 
following  year  with  the  help  of  the  Normans  was  less  pro- 
sperous, and  in  1040  the  island  wholly  ceased  to  be  a 
Byzantine  province.  About  the  same  time,  the  Bulgarians 
having  overrun  Macedonia  and  Thrace,  and  threatening 
Constantinople,  the  indolent  and  infirm  emperor,  to  the 
surprise  alike  of  friends  and  foes,  put  himself  at  the  head 
of  the  army,  and  not  only  drove  the  enemy  beyond  the 
frontier,  but  followed  them  into  their  own  territory.  He 
died,  shortly  after  his  triumph,  on  December  10,  104L 

Michael  V.  (Calaphates  or  The  Caulker),  nephew 
and  successor  of  the  preceding,  derived  his  surname  from 
his  father  Stephen,  who  had  originally  followed  the  occu- 
pation of  a  caulker  of  ships.  He  owed  his  elevation 
(December  1041)  to  his  uncle  John,  whom  -along  with  Zoe 
he  almost  immediately  banished ;  this  led  to  a  popular 
tiunult  and  his  dethronement  after  a  brief  reign  of  four 
months  (April  1042).  He  lived  for  many  years  afterwards 
in  the  quiet  obscurity  of  a  monastery. 

JticHAEL  VI.  (The  Warlike)  was  already  an  old  man 
when  chosen  by  the  empress  Theodora  as  her  successor 
shortly  before  her  death  in  1056.  His  government  was 
feeble  in  the  extreme,  and  he  was  at  last  compelled  to 
abdicate  by  Isaac  Comnenus,  who  had  defeated  his  army  in 
Phrygia  (August  1057).  He  also  spent  the  rest  of  his  life 
in  a  monastery. 

Michael  VII.  (Ducas  or  Parapinaces)  was  the  eldest 
son  of  Constantine  XL  Ducas,  by  whom  along  with  his 
brothers  Andronicus  I.  and  Constantine  XII.  he  was 
invested  with  the  title  of  Augustus ;  this  joint  succession 
took  place  in  1067,  but  in  1071  it  suited  the  policy  of  the 
uncle  Joannes  Ca-sar  to  make  Michael  sole  emperor.     For 


M  I  C  —  M  I  C 


227 


Ihis  'position  Michael,  whose  "  character  was  degraded, 
rather  than  ennobled,  by  the  virtues  of  a  monk  and  the 
learning  of  a  sophist,"  was  by  no  means  fitted,  and  at 
length  two  generals  of  the  name  of  Nicephorus,  surnamed 
Bryennius  and  Botaniates,  simultaneously  rebelled  against 
him  in  1078  ;  with  hardly  a  struggle  he  resigned  the  purple 
and  retired  into  a  monastery,  where  he  afterwards  received 
the  title  of  archbishop  of  Ephesus. 

Michael  VIII.  (Palaeologus),  born  in  1234,  was  the 
son  of  Andronicus  Palaeologus  Comnenus  and  Irene 
Angela  the  granddaughter  of  Alexius  Angelas,  emperor 
of  Constantinople.  At  an  early  age  he  rose  to  distinc- 
tion, and  ultimately  became  commander  of  the  French 
mercenaries  in  the  employment  of  the  emperors  of 
Nicsea.  A  few  days  after  the  death  of  Theodore  Lascaris 
n.  in  1259,  Michael,  by  the  assassination  of  Muzalon 
(which  he  is  believed  but  not  proved  to  have  encouraged), 
sncceeded  to  the  guardianship,  shared  with  the  patriarch 
Arsenius,  of  the  young  emperor  John  Lascaris,  then  a  lad 
of  only  eight  years.  Afterwards  invested  with  the  title  of 
"despot,"  he  was  finally  proclaimed  joint-emperor,  and 
crowned  alone  at  Nicsea  on  January  1,  1260.  In  the 
following  year  (July  1261)  Constantinople  fell  into  the 
hands  of  the  Caesar  Alexius  Strategopulus,  and  Michael, 
having  got  himself  crowned  anew  in  the  church  of  St 
Sophia,  caused  his  boy  colleague  to  be  blinded  and  sent 
into  banishment.  For  this  last  act  he  was  excommunicated 
by  Arsenius,  and  the  ban  was  not  removed  until  six  years 
afterwards  (1 268),  on  the  accession  of  a  new  patriarch.  In 
|l263  and  1264  respectively  Michael,  with  the  help  of 
[Urban  IV.,  concluded  peace  with  Villehardouin,  prince  of 
'Achaia,  and  Michael,  despot  of  Epirus,  who  had  previously 
been  incited  by  the  pope  to  attack  him ;  the  friendly  inter- 
vention had  been  secured  by  a  promise  on  the  emperor's 
part  to  help  forward  the  reunion  of  the  Eastern  and 
rtVestern  churches.  In  1269  Charles  of  Sicily,  aided  by 
Uohn  of  Thessaly,  again  made  war  with  the  alleged  purpose 
of  restoring  Baldwin  to  the  throne  of  Constantinople,  and 
pressed  Michael  so  hard  that  ultimately,  yielding  to  the 
importunities  of  Gregory  X.,  he  caused  the  deputies  of  the 
OEastern  church  to  attend  the  council  of  Lyons  (1274)  and 
there  accept  the  "filioque"  and  papal  si^iremacy.  The 
iiinion  thus  brought  about  between  the  two  churches  was, 
however,  extremely  distasteful  to  the  Greeks,  and  the 
persecution  of  his  "  schismatic "  subjects  to  which ,  the 
emperor  was  compelled  to  resort  weakened  his  power  so 
much  that  Martin  IV.  was  tempted  to  enter  into  alliance 
with  Charles  of  Anjou  and  the  Venetians  for  the  purpose 
of  reconquering  Constantinople.  The  invasion,  however, 
failed,  and  Michael  so  far  had  his  revenge  in  the  "  Sicilian 
Vespers,"  which  he  helped  to  bring  about.  He  died  in 
Thrace  in  December  1282,  and  was  succeeded  by  his  son 
Andronicus  II. 

Michael  IX.  (PalKologus)  was  the  son  of  Andronicus 
n.,  and  was  associated  with  him  on  the  throne  from  1295, 
but  predeceased  him  (1320). 

MICHAELIS,  JoHAisw  David  (1717-1791),  one  of 
Ine  most  influential  scholars  and  teachers  of  last  century, 
belonged  to  a  family  which  had  the  chief  part  in  main- 
taining that  solid  discipline  in  Hebrew  and  the  cognate 
languages  which  distinguished  the  university  of  Halle  in 
the  period  of  Pietism.  Johann  Heinrich  Michaelis  (1668- 
1738)  was  the  chief  director  of  Francke's  Collegium 
Orientate  Theologicum,  a  practical  school  of  Biblical  and 
Oriental  philology  then  quite  unique,  and  the  author  of  an 
annotated  Hetrew  Bible  and  various  exegetical  works  of 
reputation,  esnecially  the  Adnotationes  uberiores  in  Hagio- 
graphos,  1720.  In  his  chief  publications  J.  H.  Michaelis 
Aad  as  fellow-worker  his  sister's  son  Christian  Benedict 
Michaelis  (1680-1764),  the  father  of  Johann  David,  who 


was  likewise  influential  as  professor  at  Halle,  and  a  very 
sound  scholar,  especially  in  Syrlao.  J.  D.  Michaelis  was 
trained  for  academical  life  under  his  father's  eye.  Halle 
was  not  then  the  best  of  universities ;  a  narrow  theological 
spirit  cramped  all  intellectual  activity,  and  the  eager  viva- 
cious youth,  already  distingiiished  by  a  love  for  realities  and 
a  distaste  for  small  pedantries,  found  much  of  the  teaching 
wearisome  enough.  He  acquired,  however,  a  good  know- 
ledge of  the  Latin  classics, — Greek,  he  tells  us,  was  hardly 
taught  at  all,  and  his  knowledge  of  Greek  literature  was 
gained  by  his  own  reading  in  later  years, — learned  all  that 
his  father  could  teach,  and  was  influenced,  especially  in 
philosophy,  by  Baumgarten,  the  link  between  the  old 
Pietism  and  Semler,  while  he  cultivated  his  strong  taste  for 
history  under  Ludwig.  In  the  winter-semester  1739-40 
he  qualified  as  university  lecturer.  One  of  his  disserta- 
tions was  a  defence  of  the  antiquity  and  divine  authority 
of  the  vowel  points  in  Hebrew.  His  scholarship  still 
moved  in  the  old  traditional  lines  in  which  no  further  pro- 
gress was  possible,  and  he  was  also  much  exercised  by 
religious  scruples,  the  conflict  of  an  independent  mind  with 
that  submission  to  authority  at  the  expense  of  reason 
encouraged  by  the  type  of  Lutheranism  in  which  he  had 
been  trained.  A  long  visit  to  England  in  1741-42  lifted 
him  out  of  the  narrow  groove  of  his  earlier  education.  In 
passing  through  Holland  he  made  the  acquaintance  of  the 
great.  Schultens,  w-hose  influence  on  his  philological  views 
was  not  immediate,  but  became  all-powerful  a  few  years 
later.  England  offered  to  him  no  such  commanding  per- 
sonal influence,  and  he  was  not  yet  able  to  turn  to  profit 
the  stores  of  the  great  libraries,  but  his  personality  was 
strengthened  by  contact  with  a  larger  life,  and  his  theo- 
logical views  were  turned  aside  from  the  pietistic  channel. 
Michaelis  never  ceased  to  regard  himself  as  essentially 
orthodox,  though  he  did  not  feel  able  fuUy  to  subscribe 
the  Lutheran  articles,  and  more  than  once  declined  on  this 
account  to  be  professor  of  theology.  But  his  views 
acquired  a  distinctly  rationalistic  complexion,  and  the 
orthodoxy  of  his  Gottingen  lectures  and  publications  on 
dogmatic  (delivered  from  a  philosophical  chair)  is  of  a  very 
washed-out  kind.  His  really  useful  work,  however,  lay  in 
other  directions ;  the  change  of  his  theological  views  was 
important  because  it  relieved  him  from  trammels  that 
hampered  the  free  course  of  his  development  as  a  scholar. 
From  England  Michaelis  went  back  to  Halle  ;  but  he  felt 
himself  out  of  place,  and  in  1745  gladly  accepted  an 
invitation  to  Gottingen  as  privat-docent.  In  1746  he 
became  extraordinary,  in  1750  ordinary,  professor,  and  in 
Gottingen  he  remained  till  his  death  in  1791.  In  the  first 
years  of  his  new  position  Michaelis  passed  through  a  second 
education.  In  the  young  and  intellectually  ligorous 
Georgia  Augusta  he  came  under  the  powerful  personal 
influence  of  such  men  as  Gesner  and  Haller.  His  intellect 
was  active  in  many  directions ;  universal  learning  indeed 
was  perhaps  one  of  his  foibles.  Literature — modern  as 
well  as  ancient — occupied  his  attention ;  one  of  his  works 
was  a  translation  of  four  parts  of  Clarissa ;  and  translar 
tions  of  some  of  the  then  current  English  paraphrases  on 
BibUcal  books  manifested  his  sympathy  with  a  school 
which,  if  not  very  learned,  attracted  him  by  its  freer  air. 
His  Oriental  studies  were  reshaped  by  diligent  perusal  of 
the  works  of  Schultens  ;  for  the  Halle  school,  with  all  its 
learning,  had  no  conception  of  the  principles  on  which  a 
fruitful  connexion  between  Biblical  and  Oriental  learning 
can  be  established.  His  linguistic  work  indeed  was  always 
hampered  by  the  lack  of  MS.  material  which  is  felt  in  his 
philological  writings,  e.g.,  in  his  valuable  Supplementa  to 
the  Hebrew  lexicons  (1784-92).'  He  could  not  become 
1  By  a  strange  fortune  of  war  it  was  the  occupation  of  Gottingen  ty 
tUe  FreQcli  in  the  Seven  Years'  Wai-,  and  tie  friendly  relations  he 


228, 


JM  I  c  —  n  I  0 


such  an  Arabist  as  Keiske  ,•  an  J,  thcugli  for  many  years  the 
■most  famous  teacher  of  Semitic  languages  in  Europe,  he 
had  little  of  the  higher  philological  faculty,  and  neither  his 
grammatical  nor  his  critical  work,  highly  praised  as  it  then 
was,  has  left  a  permanent  mark,  with  the  exception  perhaps 
of  his  text-critical  studies  on  the  Peshito.^  His  tastes  were 
all  for  realia — history,  antiquities,  especially  geography 
and  natural  science ;  in  his  autobiography  he  half  regrets 
that  he  did  not  choose  the  medical  profession.  Here  he 
found  a  field  h;ydly  touched  since  Bochart,  in  whose  foot- 
steps he  followed  in  the  Spicilegium  geor/raphis  Hehfsoyum 
f.iierse  post  Bochartitm  (1769-80).  To  his  impulse  we  owe 
the  famous  Eastern  expedition  of  Von  Haven,  Forskal,  and 
Niebuhr.  He  prepared  the  instructions  for  their  journey, 
and  drew  up  a  series  of  questions  and  elucidations  to  guide 
their  researches,  which  place  in  strong  relief  his  com|ire- 
hensive  grasp  of  all  that  was  then  known  of  the  East,  and 
the  keen  delight  in  the  knowledge  of  tangible  and  natural 
things,  paired  with  a  sober  and  patient  judgment,  which 
was  his  chief  intellectual  characteristic.  The  best  part  of 
this  knowledge  was  turned  to  the  profit  of  Biblical  study ; 
in  his  exegetical  writings,  for  exami)le,  one  of  the  main 
features  is  what  was  then  the  novelty  of  illustrations  from 
Eastern  travel.  In  sjiite  of  his  doctrinal  writings — which 
at  the  time  made  no  little  noise,  so  that  his  Compenduun 
of  Dogmatic  (1760)  was  confiscated  in  Sweden,  and  the 
knighthood  of  the  North  Star  was  afterwards  given  him  in 
reparation — it  was  the  natural  side  of  the  Bible  that  really 
attracted  him,'  and  no  man  did  more  to  introduce  the 
modern  method  of  studying  Hebrew  antiquity  as  an 
integral  part  of  ancient  Eastern  life.  The  permanent 
influence  of  his  works  indeed  has  not  been  great,  and  many 
of  them  are  now  hartUy  readable  ;  for,  with  all  his  historic 
tastes  and  learning,  he  had  no  large  historic  conceptions, 
and,  what  is.  closely  akin  to  this  defect,  was  singularly 
deficient  in  imagination  and  poetic  sympathy.  But  the 
"vivacity  of  his  mind,  his  manysidedness,  his  singularly 
attractive  though  discursive  method  of  lecturing,  and 
abpve  all  his  power  of  feeling  and  inspiring  interest  in 
every  kind  of  fact,  was  a  potent  stimulus  much  needed  in 
the  Germany  of  that  age,  and  did  not  soon  die.  Different 
as  the  three  men  are,  there  is  a  true  historic  nexus  between 
the  three  great  Gottingeu  Orientalists,  ilichaelis,  Eichhorn, 
and  Ewald. 

The  personal  char.icter  of  Jlichnelis  can  be  read  between  the  lines 
of  his  autobios^i-nphy  with  the  aid  of  tlie  otlier  ni.it.-rials  collected 
by  the  editor  Hassencarap  (/.  D.  Michnchs  LcbciisbL-scfin-ibiDirj,  kc, 
1793).  ■  To  imderstaiKl  the  secret  of  his  enonnous  iiillueiice,  it  is 
not  enoii|;h  to  read  liis  books,  now  for  the  most  part  dull  cnoiij^'h 
to  us  ;  we  must  see  the  U|iri^Kt  vivacious  laborious  nian,  with  a 
good  deal  of  worhlly  prudence  and  a  f;ood  deal  of  temper,  much 
absorbed  in  his  manifold  academic  activities  in  the  university  and 
Koyal  Society  of  Goltingen,  yet  ever  full  of  interest  in  the  larger 
world,  and  of  shrewd  judgments  and  lively  talk,  with  a  stroiif:  sense 
of  his  rights  and  dignity,  yet  with  a  good  and  warm  heart ;  sjiining 
especially  in  the  lecture-room,  where  he  dealt  forth  knowledge  with 
discursive  hand  from  a  fall  .store,  displaying  the  mctlioils  as  well  as 
the  results  of  his  all-sided  research,  not  witliout  a  touch  of  the  vanity 
of  the  polyhistor,  and  loviiig  to  leave  the  chair  under  a  storm  of 
applause  at  a  parting  bon-mot  which  he  acknowledged  at  the  door 
in  a  backward  glance  of  triumph.  The  same  volume  contains  a 
full  list  of  his  works.  Besides  those  already  mentioned  it  is  suffi- 
cient to  refer  to  his  New  Testament  Intmludion  (the  first  edition, 
1750,  preceded  the  lull  development  of  his  powers,  and  is  a  very, 
different  book  from  the  later  editions),  his  rc)>rint  of  Lowth's 
Prxlcdiones  with  important  additions  (1758-(i2),  his  Gerinau 
translation  of  the  Bible  with  notes  (1773-92),  his  Oricntalischc 
wul  Excgdische  BibUothck  (1776-.8.'>),  and  Xcuc  0.  ami  E.  Bib. 
(1786-91),  his  l/oiaischcs  Kecht  (1770-71),  and  his  eilition  of 
Castle's  Lexicon  Syriaaim  (1787-88).  His  LiUerarisdur  Brief- 
KYcAsfi  (1794-96)  contains  much  that  is  interesting  for  the  history 
of  learning  in  his  time.  (W.  R.  S.) 


formed  with  the  officers,  that  procured  him  tbe  P»ria  MS.  from  which 
he  edited  Abulfeilii's  description  of  Esypt. 
i.CuTX  in  AcUs  Aposlolonim  Syriacos,  1755, 


-MICHAUD,  Joseph  (1767-1839),  French  historian 
and  publicist,  was  born  of  an  old  family  on  June  19,  1767, 
at  'Albens,  Savoy,  was  educated  at  Bourg-en-Bresse,  and 
afterwards  engaged  in  literary  work  at  Lyons,  where  the 
events  of  17S9  first  called  into  activity  the  dislike  to 
revolutionary  principles  which  manifested  itself  throughout 
the  rest  of  his  life.  In  1791  he  went  to  Paris,  where,  not 
without  danger,  he  took  part  in  editing  .several  royalist 
journals.  In  1794  he  started  La  Quotidienne,  for  his  con- 
nexion with  which  he  was  arrested  after  the  13th  of 
Vendemiaire;  he  succeeded  in  escai)ing  his  cajitors,  but  was 
sentenced  to  death  p<ir  conlnmuce  by  the  military  council. 
Having  resumed  the  editorship  of  his  newspaper  on  the 
establishment  of  the  Directory,  he  was  again  proscribed  on 
the  18th  of  Fructidor,  but  at  the  close  of  two  years 
returned  to  Paris  when  the  consulate  had  superseded  the 
Directory.  Hii  Bourbon  sympathies  led  to  a  brief 
imprisonment  in  1800,  and  on  his  release  he  for  the  time 
abandoned  journalism,  and  began  to  write  or  edit  books. 
Along  with  his  brother  and  two  colleagues  he  publi.-,hed  in 
1808  a  Biographic  modenie,  on  didi'Muaire  des  hommu 
qm  se  sont  fait  nn  nom  en  Europe  depuis  1789,  the  earliest 
work  of  its  kind ;  in  1808  tlie  first  volume  of  his  Histotrc 
des  Croisades  appeared,  and  in  ISll  he  originated  the 
BiugrajJtie  Cnirersel/e.  In  1814  he  resumed  the  editor- 
ship of  the  Quotidienne,  and  in  the  same  year  was  elected 
Academician.  In  1815  his  brochure  entitled  llistoire  dis 
qnin:e  Sdaaines  ou  le  dernier  regne  de  Bonaparte  met 
with  extraordinary  success,  passing  through  twenty-seven 
editions  within  a  very  .short  time.  His  political  servicss 
were  now  rewarded  with  the  cross  of  an  officer  in  the  Legion 
of  Honour  and  the  modest  post  of  king's  reader,  of  which 
last  he  was  deprived  in  1827  for  having  opposed  Peyronnet's 
"  Loi  d'Amour "  against  the  freedom  of  the  press.  In 
1830-31  he  travelled  in  Syria  and  Egypt  for  the  purpose 
of  collecting  additional  matepials  for  the  llistoire  des 
Croisades ;  his  correspondence  with  a  fellow  explorer, 
Poujoulat,  consisting  jiractically  of  discussions  and  eluci- 
dations of  various  important  points  in  that  work,  was 
afterwards  published  (Con-espondance  d'Orient,  7  vols., 
183-2-35).  The  Billiot/ieqve  des  Croisades,  in  four 
Tohmies  more,  contained  the  "pieces  justificatives  "  of  the 
J/is/oire.  Michaud  died  on  September  30,  1839,  at  Passy, 
wlicre  his  home  had  been  since  1832.  His  llistoire  des 
Croisades  was  published  in  its  final  form  in  six  volumes  in 
1841  imder  the  editorship  of  his  fr'cnd  Poujoulat  (9th  ed., 
with  appendix,  by  Huillard-Brvholles,  1856).  Micliaud 
along  with  Poujoulat  also  edited  and  in  part  wrote  Xouvelie 
Collection  des  Menioires  povr  servir  a  I'lJisloire  de  Franee. 
32  vols.,  1830-44.  gee  Sainte-Beuve,  Ca«s<ries  du 
Ltiddi,  vol.  vii. 

MICH.\UX,  A.\DRE  (1746-1802),  a  French  botanist, 
best  known  for  his  works  on  the  Hora  of  North  America 
and  as  a  botanical  traveller.  In  1779  he  .spent  some  time 
botanizing  in  England,  and  in  1780  he  explored  Auvergne, 
the  Pyrenees,  and  the  north  of  Spain.  In  1782  he  was 
sent  by  the  French  Government  on  a  botanical  mission  to 
Persia.  His  journey  began  unfavourably,  as  he  was 
robbed  by  .\rabs  of  all  his  equijiments  except  his  books ; 
but  he  gained  influential  support  in  Persia,  having  cured 
the  shah  of  a  dangerous  illness.  After  two  years  he 
returned  to  France  with  a  fine  herbarium,  and  also  intro- 
duced numerous  Eastern  plants  into  the  botanic  gardens 
of  France.  In  1785  he  was  sont  by  the  French  Govern- 
ment to  North  America,  and  travelled  through  Canada, 
Nova  Scotia,  and  the  Uniteil  States  as  far  west  as  the 
Mississilipi.  The  outbreak  of  the  French  P>evolution 
deprived  him 'of  means  to  continue  his  work  in  America, 
and  in  1 796  he  returned  to  France.  Ke  was  shipwrecked, 
>and  lost  most  of  his  collections  on  the  voyage.     In   1800 


M  I  C  — M  I  C 


220 


he  went  to  Madagascar  to  investigate  the  flora  of  that 
islapd,  and  died  there  in  1802.  His  work  as  a  botanist 
j^as  chiefly  done  in  the  field,  and  he  added  largely  to  what 
was  previously  known  of  the  botany  of  the  East  and  of 
America.  He  also  introduced  many  plants  into  Euro- 
pean botanic  gardens.  He  wrote  two  valuable  works  on 
North-American  plants,— the  Histoir'.  des  chines  de 
I'Aniirique  Septentrionah  (1801),  with  36  plates,  and  the 
Flora  Boreali-Americana  (1803),  2  vols.,  with  51  plates. 

MICHAU.X,  Fra-v^ois  Andk^  (1770-185.5),  son  of  the 
f)receding,  was,  like  his  father,  employed  by  the  French 
Government  to  explore  the  forests  of  North  America  with 
\  view  to  the  introduction  into  France  of  trees  valuable 
or  their  wood  or  other  products.  He  was  very  success- 
'ul  in  carrying  out  this  object.  He  published  in  1810-13 
a  Histoire  des  Arhres forestieres  de  VAmeriquc  Septunliionale, 
in  3  vols.,  with  156  plates,  a  work  full  of  information  on 
the  characters,  uses,  distribution,  and  other  points  of 
interest  in  the  various  species.  In  1817-19  a  translation 
of  it  appeared  under  the  title  Korlh  American  Syha. 
He  also  ^vrote  a  Voyage  a  Vmiest  des  Jlonls  AUe^kanys, 
1804,  besides  articles  in  scientific  magazines. 

MICHELANGELO  (147.5-1564).  Michelangelo  Buon- 
irroti,  best  known  simply  as  Michelangelo,  the  last  and  most 
famous  of  the  great  artists  of  Florence,  was  the  son  of 
Ludovico  Buonarroti,  a  poor  gentleman  of  that  city,  and  of 
his  wife  Francesca  di  Neri.  Ludovico  was  barely  able  to 
live  on  the  income  of  his  estate,  but  made  it  his  boast  that 
he  had  never  stooped  to  add  to  it  by  mercantile  or  mechani- 
cal pursuits.  The  favour  of  the  Medici  procured  him  em- 
ployment in  some  minor  ofiBces  of  state,  and  in  the  autumn 
of  1474  he  was  appointed  resident  magistrate  of  Caprese, 
in  the  Casentino,  for  a  period  of  si.K  months.  Thither  he 
accordingly  repaired  with  his  family,  and  there,  on  March 
6,  1,475,  his  second  son  Michelagniolo  or  Michelangelo  was 
born.  Immediately  afterwards  the  family  returned  to 
J"lorencc,  and  the  child  was  put  to  nurse  with  a  niarble- 
jworker's  wife  of  Settignano.  His  nwther's^  health  had 
already,  it  would  seem,'  begun  to  fail ;  at  all  events  in 
about  two  years  from  this  time,  after  she  had  borne  her 
husband  two  more  sons,  she  died.  While  still  a  young 
boy,  Michelangelo  determined  in  spite  of  his  father's 
opposition  to  be  an  artist.  Ho  had  sucked  in  the  passion, 
as  he  himself  used  to  say,  with  his  foster-mother's  milk. 
After  a  sharp  struggle,  his  stubborn  will  overcame  his 
father's  pride  of  gentility,  and  at  thirteen  he  got  himself 
articled  as  a  paid  assistant  in  the  workshop  of  the  brothers 
Ghirlandaio.  Domenico  Ghirlandaio,  bred  a  jeweller,  had 
become  by  this  time  the  foremost  painter  of  Florence.  In 
his  service  the  young  Michelangelo  laid  the  foundations 
of  that  skill  in  fresco  with  which  twenty  years  afterwards 
he  confounded  his  detractors  at  Rome.  He  studied  also, 
like  all  the  Florentine  artists  of  that  age,  in  the  Brancacci 
chapel,  where  the  frescos  of  ^^asaccio,  painted  some  sixty 
years  before,  still  victoriously  held  their  own;  and  here,  in 
a  quarrel  with  an  ill-conditioned  fellow-student,  Torrigiani, 
he  received  the  blow  of  which  his  face  bore  the  marks  to 
his  dying  day. 

Though  Michelangelo's  earliest  studies  were  directed 
towards  painting,  he  was  by  nature  and  predilection  much 
more  inclined  to  sculpture.  In  that  art  he  presently 
received  encoivagement  and  training  under  the  eye  of 
an  ■  illustrious  patron,  Lorenzo  dei  Medici.  On  the 
recommendation,  it  is  said,  of  Ghirlandaio,.  he  was  trans- 
ferred, before  the  term  of  his  Apprenticeship  as  a  painter 
had  expired,  to  the  school  of  sculpture  established  by 
Lorenzo  in  the  Medici  gardens.  Here  he  could  learn  to 
match  himself  against  his  great  predecessor,  Donatello,  one 
of  *hose  pupils  was  the  director  of  the  school,  and  to  com- 
pare the  works  of  that  maittr  and  his  Tuscan  contemporaries 


with  the  antiques  collected  for  th«  instruction  of  the  scholars. 
Here,  too,  he  could  listen  to  discourses  on  Platonism,  and 
steep  himself  in  the  doctrines  of  an  enthusiastic  philosophy 
which  sought  to  reconcile  wth  Christian  faith  the  lore  and 
the  doctrines  of  the  Academy.  Michelangelo  remained  a 
Christian  Platonist  to  the  end  of  his  days ;  he  was  also 
from  his  youth  up  a  devoted  student  of  Dante.  His 
powers  of  mind  and  hand  soon  attracted  attention,  and 
secured  him  the  regard  and  favour  of  his  patrons  in  spite 
of  his  rugged,  unsociable  exterior,  and  of  a  temper  which, 
at  best  was  but  a  half-smothered  volcano. 

Michelangelo  had  been  attached  to  the  school  and  house- 
hold of  the  Medici  for  barely  three  years  when,  in  1492, 
his  great  patron  Lorenzo  died.  Lorenzo's  son  Piero  dei 
,  Medici  inherited  the  position,  but  not  the  qualities,  of  his 
father ;  Florence  soon  chafed  under  his  authority ;  and 
towards, the  autumn  of  1494  it  became  apparent  that 
disaster  was  impending  over  him  and  his  adherents. 
Michelangelo  was  constitutionally  subject  to  dark  and 
sudden  presentiments :  one  such  seized  him  now,  and, 
without  awaiting  the  popular  outbreak  which  soon  followed, 
he  took  horse  with  two  companions  and  fled  to  Bologna. 
There,  being  now  in  his  twentieth  year,  he  was  received  with 
kindness  by  a  member  of  the  Aldovrandi  family,  and  on 
his  commission  executed  two  figures  of  saints,  and  one  of 
an  angel,  for  the  shrine  of  St  Dominic  in  the  church  of  St 
Petronius.  After  about  a  year,  work  at  Bologna  failing, 
and  his  name  having  been  included  in  his  absence  on  the 
list  of  artists  appointed  to  provide  a  new  hall  of  assembly 
for  the  Gteat  Council  of  Florence,  ilichelangelo  returned 
home.  The  strange  theocracy  established  by  Savonarola 
was  now  in  force,  and  the  whole  character  of  civic  life  at 
Florence  was  for  the  time  being  changed.  But  Michelangelo 
was  not  left  without  employment.  He  found  a  friend  in 
another  Lorenzo,  the  son  of  PLerfrancesco  dei  Medici,  for' 
whom  he  at  this  time  executed  a  statue  of  the  boy  St  John. 
Having  also  carved  a  recumbent  Cupid  in  imitation  of  the 
antique,  it  was  suggested  to  him  by  the  same  pUtron 
that  it  should  be  so  tinted  and  treated  as  to  look  like  a 
real  antique,  and  sold  accordingly.  Without  increasing- 
the  price  he  put  upon  the  work,  Michelangelo  for  amuse- 
ment lent  himself  to  the  counterfeit,  and  the  piece  was  then 
actually  sold  for  a  large  sum  to  a  Roman  collector,  the 
cardinal  San  Giorgio,  as  a  genuine  work  of  antiquity, — the 
dealer  appropriating  the  profits.  AVLen  presently  the 
cardinal  discovered  the  fraud,  he  caused  the  dealer  tn 
refund  ;  but  as  to  Michelangelo  himself,  it  was  represented 
to  the  young  sculptor  that  if  he  went  to  Rome,  the  amateur 
who  had  just  involuntarily  paid  so  high  a  tribute  to  his 
skill  would  certainly  befriend  him.  He  set  forth  accord- 
ingly, and  arrived  at  Rome  for  the  first  time  at  the  end  of 
June  1496.  Such  hopes  as  he  may  have  entertained  of 
countenance  from  the  cardinal  San  Giorgio  were  quickly 
dispelled.  Neither  did  the  banished  Piero  dei  Medici,  who 
also  was  now  living  at  Rome,  do  anything  to  help  him. 
On  the  other  hand  Michelangelo  won  the  favour  of  a 
Roman  nobleman,  Jacopo  Galli,  and  tluough  him  of  the 
French  cardinal  Jean  de  Villiers  de  la  Grolaie,  abbot  of 
St  Denis.  From  the  former  he  received  a  commission  for 
a  Cupid  and  a  Bacchus,  from  the  latter  for  a  Pitlti,  or 
JIary  lamenting  over  the  body  of  Christ, —  works  of  which 
probably  all  three,  the  last  two  certainly,  are  preserved. 

Michelangelo's  stay  in  Rome  at  this  time  lasted  five 
years,  from  the  summer  of  1496  till  that  of  1501.  The 
interval  had  been  one  of  extreme  political  distraction  at 
Florence.  The  excitement  of  the  French  invasion,  the 
mystic  and  ascetic  regimen  of  Savonarola,  the  reaction 
which  led  to  his  overthrow,  and  finally  the  external  wars 
and  internal  dissidences  which  preceded  a  new  settlement, 
had  all  created  an  atmosphere  most  unfavourable  to  art. 


230 


MICHELANGELO 


Nevertheless  Ludovico  Buonarroti,  who  in  the  troubles  of 
149-t  had  lost  a  small  permanent  appointment  he  held  in 
the  customs,  and  had  come  to  regard  his  son  Michelangelo 
as  the  mainstay  of  his  house,  had  been  repeatedly  urging 
him  to  come  home. 

A  spirit  of  family  duty  and  family  pride  was  the  ruling 
principle  in  all  Michelangelo's  conduct.  During  the  best 
years  of  his  life  he  submitted  himself  sternly  and  without 
a  murmur  to  pinching  hardship  and  almost  superhuman 
labour  for  the  sake  of  his  father  and  brothers,  who  were 
ever  selfishly  ready  to  be  fed  and  helped  by  him.  Having 
now,  after  an  illness,  come  home  in  1501,  ilichelangelo 
received  the  request  from  the  cardinal  Francesco  Picco- 
lomini  to  adorn  with  a  number  of  sculptured  figures  a 
shrine  already  begun  in  the  cathedral  of  Siena  in  honour 
of  the  most  distinguished  member  of  his  house.  Pope 
Pius  n.  Four  only  of  these  figures  were  ever  executed, 
and  those  not  apparently,  or  only  in  small  part,  by  the 
master's  hand.  A  work  of  greater  interest  in*  Florence 
itself  had  diverted  him  from  his  engagement  to  his  Sienese 
patron.  This  was  the  execution  of  the  famous  colossal 
statue  of  David,  popularly  known  as  the  Giant.  It  was 
carved  out  of  a  huge  block  of  marble  on  which  another 
sculptor,  Agostino  d'Antouio,  had  begun  unsuccessfully  to 
work  forty  years  before,  and  which  had  been  lying  idle 
ever  since.  Michelangelo  had  here  a  difficult  problem  before 
him.  Without  much  regard  to  tradition  or  the  historical 
character  of  his  hero,  he  carved  out  of  the  vast  but  cramped 
mass  of  material  a  youthful,  frowning  colossus,  which 
amazed  every  beholder  by  its  freedom  and  science  of  execu- 
tion, and  its  victorious  energy  of  expression.  All  the  best 
artists  of  Florence  were  called  in  council  to  determine  on 
what  site  it  should  be  set  up,  and  after  much  debate  the 
terrace  of  the  Palace  of  the  Signory  was  chosen,  in  prefer- 
ence to  the  neighbouring  Loggia  dei  Lanzi.  Here  accord- 
ingly the  colossal  David  of  Michelangelo  took,  in  the  month 
ni  May  150-1,  the  place  which  it  continued  to  hold  ever  after- 
wards, until  ten  years  ago,  in  1873,  it  was  removed  for 
the  sake  of  protection  to  a  hall  in  the  Academy  of  Fine 
Arts.  Other  works  of  sculpture  by  the  same  indomitable 
hand  also  belong  to  this  period  :  among  these  another 
David,  in  bronze,  and  on  a  smaller  scale ;  a  great  rough- 
hewn  St  Matthew  begun  but  never  comjileted  for  the 
cathedral  of  Florence ;  a  Madonna  and  Child  executed  on 
the  commission  of  a  merchant  of  Bruges ;  and  two  un- 
finished bas-reliefs  of  the  same  subject. 

Neither  was  Michelangelo  idle  at  the  same  time  as  a 
painter.  Leaving  disputed  works  for  the  moment  out  of 
sight,  he  in  these  days  at  any  rate  painted  for  his  and 
Raphael's  common  patron,  Angelo  Doni,  the  Holy  Family 
now  in  the  Uffizi  at  Florence.  And  in  the  autumn  of 
1504,  the  year  of  the  completion  of  the  David,  he  received 
from  the  Florentine  state  a  commission  for  a  work  of 
monumental  painting  on  an  heroic  scale.  Leonardo  da 
Vinci  had  been  for  some  months  engaged  on  his  great 
■cartoon  of  the  Battle  of  Anghiari,  to  be  painted  on  the 
wall  of  the  great  hall  of  the  municipal  council.  The 
gonfaloniere  Soderini  now  procured  for  Michelangelo  the 
commission  to  design  a  companion  work.  Michelangelo 
chose  an  incident  of  the  Pisau  war,  when  the  Florentine 
soldiery  had  been  surprised  by  the  enemy  in  the  act  of 
bathing  :  he  da.shed  at  the  task  with  his  accustomed  fiery 
energy,  and  had  carried  a  great  part  of  the  cartoon  to 
co.mpletion  when,  in  the  early  spring  of  1 50.5,  he  broke  off 
the  work  in  order  to  obey  a  call  to  Rome  which  reached 
him  from  Pope  Julius  11.  His  unfinished  cartoon  showed 
how  greatly  Michelangelo  had  profited  by  the  example  of 
his  elder  rival,  Leonardo,  little  as,  personally,  he  yielded 
to  his  charm  or  could  bring  himself  to  respond  to  his 
courtesy ._^The  ^work  of  Michelangelo's  youth  is  for  the 


most  part  comparatively  tranquil  in  character.  His  early 
sculpture,  showing  a  degreq  of  science  and  perfection  un- 
equalled siuce  the  antique,  has  also  something  of  the 
antique  serenity.  It  bears  strongly  the  stamp  of  intel- 
lectual research,  but  not  by  any  means  that  of  storm  or 
strain.  In  the  cartoon  of  the  Bathers,  he  on  the  other 
hand  appropriated  and  carried  farther  the  mastery,  which 
Leonardo  had  first  asserted,  over  every  variety  of  violent 
action  and  every  e.xtreme  of  energetic  movement.  In  it 
the  qualities  afterwards  proverbially  associated  with 
Michelangelo — his  furia,  his  terribilita,  the  tempest  and 
hurricane  of  the  spirit  which  accompanied  his  unequalled 
technical  mastery  and  knowledge — first  found  expreesion. 

With  Michelangelo's  departure  to  Roiuo  early  in  1505  the  first 
part  of  his  artistic  career  may  be  haid  to  end.  It  will  be  convenient 
here  to  recapitulate  its  principal  results  in  sculpture  and  paiating, 
both  those  preserved,  and  those  recorded  but  lost. 

SuuLPTi-RE.— Floreuce,  1489-94.  Head  of  a  Faun,  National 
Sluseum,  Florence  (?).  Condivi  describes  llichelangelo's  fin-t  essay 
in  sculpture  as  a  head  of  an  agedfauu  with  a  front  tooth  knocked  oof, 
this  latter  point  having  been  an  afterthought  suggested  by  Lorenzo 
dei  Medici.  The  head  is  commonly  identiticd  with  one  in  the 
National  Museum  at  Florence,  which,  however,  bears  no  marks  of 
Michelangelo's  style,  and  is  in  all  probability  spurious.  Madamui 
ScaUd  on  a  SUp,  Casa  Buonarroti,  Florence.  This  bas-relief  is  a 
genuine  example  of  Michelangelo's  early  work  in  the  Medicean 
school  under  Bertoldo.  It  is  executed  in  low  relief  in  imitation  of 
the  technical  style  of  Donatello;  but  the  attitudes  and  diaracteni 
of  the  figures,  and  tlie  long-drawn,  somewhat  tormentKi  folds  oi 
drapery,  recall  ratlier  the  manner  of  Jacopo  deila  Qaercia.  Cen- 
tauromacJtia,  Casa  Buonarroti.  A  fine  and  unqv'.fstionably  geniiine 
work  in  full  relief,  of  probably  somewhat  later  date  than  the  last- 
mentioned  ;  Midielangelo  has  followed  the  anti-jue  in  his  con- 
ception and  trtatinent  of  the  nude,  but  not  at  all  in  thearrange- 
,  mcnt  of  the  subject,  which  occurs  frequently  in  works  of  ancient  art. 

Bologna,  14i'4-95.  Kneeling  Angel,  supporting  the  shrine  of 
St  Dominic.  This  is  the  figure,  with  crisp  hair,  short  resolute 
features,  and  ilmpcry  clinging  to  show  the  limbs,  on  the  right- 
hand  side  of  the  spectator  as  he  fronts  the  altar.  The  prettier 
and  more  engiging  figure  at  tlie  opposite  end  was  long  taken  to 
be  Michelangelo's  work,  but  is  really  that  of  Niccolo  dell'  Area. 
iliclielangelo  also  finished  the  figure  of  St  Petronius  on  the  cornice 
of  the  same  altar,  begun  by  the  same  KiccoM,  and  executed  one  of 
St  Proculus  whicli  has  perished. 

Florenco,  1495-96.  SI  John  in  the  If'iMerness,  Berlin  Museum. 
During  the  year  between  Slichelangclo's  return  from  Poloinia  and 
his  first  departure  to  Rome  he  executed,  as  has  been  narrated  above, 
a  stcitue  of  S.  Giovannino  for  Lorenzo  di  PieriVanccsco  dei  Medici. 
This  hal  for  centuries  been  supposed  lost,  when  in  1874  it  wu 
declared  to  have  been  found  in  the  possession  of  Count  Gualandi- 
Rossalmiui  at  Pisa.  Vehement  and  prolonged  discussions  arose 
as  to  the  authenticity  of  the  work,  and  at  last  it  w-as  bought  for 
the  Berlin  Museum,  where  its  genuiuencss  is  with  apparently  good 
reason  maintainetl.  The  stripling  saint  stands  naked  but  lot  a 
skill  about  his  loins,  liolding  a  honeycomb  in  his  left  hand  and 
lifting  to  his  mouth  a  goat  s  horu  full  of  honey  with  his  right 
ru^sloriUion  of  an  antique  grmtp  of  Bacehns  and  Aniythis,  Lflizi 
Galiery,  Florence.  This  interesting  restoration  of  an  antique  torso, 
by  the'addilion  of  a  head,  the  lower  part  of  the  legs,  and  tlie  accessory 
figure  of  an  attendant  genius,  a  iilintli,  and  mask,  is  not  one  of  the 
works  traditionally  ascribed  to  Michelangelo;  but  has  lately,  and 
as  it  seems  rightly,  been  claimed  for  hiiu  on  internal  evidence. 
Heeiimbcnt  Cupid,  bought  by  the  cardinal  San  Giorgio  as  an 
antique.  Tliis  work,  which  played  an  important  part  in  Michel- 
angelo's history,  is  unfortunately  lost. 

Rome,  1495-1501.  Kneeling  CuinJ,  South  Kensington  Museum, 
London.  This  beautiful  statue  of  an  athletic  youth  kneeling  on 
the  right  knee,  looking  over  his  right  shoulder,  with  tho  right 
hand  lowered  and  the  left  raised,  and  having  a  quiver  on  the 
ground  beside  him,  is  acknowledged  on  internal  grounds  aa  an 
early  work  of  Michelangelo.  There  is  sonic  ambiguity  about  the 
character  and  action  of  the  pei-soimM;  but  the  work  is  usutUj 
identified  with  tho  Cupid  which  Michelangelo  is  rcconled  to  have 
ctecntcd  at  this  time  for  Jacoiw  Galli.  B^ieehus  ami  Young  FaiiH,^ 
National  Museum,  Florence.  'This  is  uiinnestionably  the  "  Bacchus" 
commissioned  by  tho  same  patron.  The  finely-framed  but  soft- 
limbed  youthful  gotl,  his  weight  sufiwrted  somewhat  staggeringly 
on  the  left  leg,  holds  up  a  wine  cup  in  his  right  hand,  and  with  his 
loosely-hanging  loft  hand  holds  a  cluster  of  gia|)cs,  at  whicli  a 
child-faun  sUnding  a  little  behind  him  grasps  and  nibbles.  The 
surface  highly  finished  aud  polished,  as  in  the  Berlin  St  .lohn. 
I'ir^in  Lamenting  Ihi  Dead  Chrial,  St  Peter's,  Rome.  This  groOD, 
eieculcd  for  tho  French  abbot  of  St  Denis,   is  the  finest  of  ill 


MICHELANGELO 


231 


IlicheUngelo's  eavly  sculptures,  and  one  of  the  finest  of  liis  life. 
It  still  recalls  the  ideals  of  some  of  the  earlier  Tuscan  roasters, 
especially  Jacopo  da  Quercia  ;  but  the  execution  is  of  a  mastery 
and  nobility  unprecedented  in  Italian  art.  The  Virgin,  in  drapery 
of  magnificent  design,  with  her  left  kneo  somewhat  raised  and  her 
right  hand  slightly  extended,  sits  holding  on  her  lap  the  dead 
Christ,— a  figure  of  splendid  frame  and  modelling  as  well  as  of 
admii-able  pathos  and  dignity  in  expression. 

Florence,  1501-6.  Four  Sainls  decorating  the  Shrine  of  Pius  U. , 
in  the  cathedral  of  Siena.  These  figures  represent  the.  only  part 
which  Michelangelo  ever  completed  of  his  contract  with  the  car- 
dinal Piecolomini  and  his  heirs.  They  are  evidently  carried  out  by 
the  liand  of  pupils  only.  Vinjin  and  Child,  Liebfraucnkirche, 
KvUges.  This  pleasing  group  has  been  since  the  days  of  Albert 
Uiircr  attributed  to  Michelangelo,  and  bears  the  manifest  stamp 
<)1  liis  design,  though  its  execution  may  be  partly  by  inferior 
hands.  It  is  placed  close  to  the  tombstone  of  a  member  of  the 
Mosoheroni  (or  Moskeflon)  family.  We  know  that  Michelangelo 
executed  at  this  time,  for  one'of  this  very  family,  a  work  which  the 
ancient  biographers  describe  as  having  been  in  bronze, — a  medal- 
lion in  that  metal,  says  explicitly  Vasari ;  but  it  is  probably  really 
the  marble  "roup, in  question.  Virgin  and  Child,  Royal  Academy, 
London.  Tnis  beautiful  unfinished  circular  relief  is  identified  with 
ono  recorded  to  have  been  executed  by  the  master  for  Taddeo 
Gaddi.  Virgin  and  Child,  National  Jlusenm,  Florence,— a  similar 
iclief,  also  unfinished,  originally  ordered  by  Bartolommeo  Pitti. 
Youthful  David,  Academy  of  Arts,  FloMuce.  Of  this  colossal 
work,  which  in  spite  of  its  scale  and  subject  has  still,  in  grace 
of  pose  and  style,  a  considerable  artistic  afiiuity  with  the  earlier 
Bacchus  and  St  John,  enough  has  been  said.  Figure  of  David, 
a  small  statue  in  bronze.  Several  extant  works  have  been  pointed 
out  as  probably  identical  with  this  lost  statue  ;  but  the  claims  of 
r.cne  have  been  generally  acknowledged. 

Painting.  — Holy  Family,  Uffizi,  Florence.  This  circular  picture, 
painted  for  Angelo  Doni,  and  mentioned  by  the  earliest  biographers, 
IS  the  only  perfectly  well-attested  panel-painting  of  Michelangelo 
which  exists.  His  love  of  restless  and  somewhat  strained  actions  is 
illustrated  by  the  action  of  the  Madonna,  who  kneels  on  the  ground 
holding  up  the  child  on  her  right  shoulder  ;  his  love  of  thonudo 
by  the  introduction  (wherein  he  follows  IjUca  Signorclli)  of  some 
otherwise  purposeless  undrapcd  figures  in  the  background.  Virgin 
Olid  Child  with  Four  Angels,  National  Gallery,  London.  This 
unfinished  painting,  marked  by  great  grace  as  well  as  severity  of 
feelingand  design,  was  formerly  attributed  to  Domenico  Ghirlandaio, 
but  is  now  commonly  held  to  bo  the  earliest  extant  picture  by  Michel- 
angelo, Ofhisraanner,  especiallyinthedosignand  treatment  of  the 
drapery,  it  bears  evident  marks ;  but  the  execution  seems  like  that 
of  some  weaker  pupil  or  companion,  perhaps  Ridolfo  Ghirlandaio 
or  Granacci.  EntombTiiint  of  Christ,  National  Gallery,  Loudon. 
This  picture,  also  unfinished,  has  in  like  manner  been  much  con- 
tested. Its  composition  is  unfortunate ;  weaker  hands  have  dis- 
figured some  portions  of  the  work  ;  but  the  extraordinary  excellence 
of  other  portions,  and  the  grandeur  of  some  of  the  actions, 
render  it  probable  that  the  work  is  one  begun  and  afterwards 
abandoned  by  Michelangelo  himself.  Cartoon  of  the  Battle  of 
Anghiari.  Of  this  famous  lost  work  (begun,  though  apparently 
not  completed,  in  the  period  now  engaging  us)  the  only  authentic 
record  is  contained  in  two  early  engravings,  one  by  ilarcantoiiio 
and  the  other  by  Agostino  Vencziano.  An  elaborate  drawing  of 
many  figures  at  Holkham  Hall,  well  known  and  often  engraved, 
seems  to  be  a  later  £cnto  destitute  of  real  authority'. 

Slicneiangeto  iiaa  not  Deen  iong  in  Koine  betore  Popo 
Juliws  devised  fit  employment  for  him.  That  capacious 
and  headstrong  spirit,  on  fire  with  great  enterprises,  had 
conceived  the  idea  of  a  sepulchral  monument  to  com- 
memorate his  glory  when  he  should  be  dead,  and  to  be 
executed  according  to  his  own  plans  while  he  was  Still 
living.  He  entrusted  this  congenial  task  to  Michelangelo. 
The  design  being  approved,  the  artist  spent  the  winter  of 
1.50-5-6  at  the  quarries  of  Carrara,  superintending  tlic 
excavation  and  shipment  of  the  necessary  marbles.  In  the 
spring  ho  returned  to  Rome,  and  when  the  marbles  arrived 
fell  to  with  all  his  energy  at  the  preparations  for  the  work. 
For  a  while  the  pope  followed  their  progress  eagerly, 
and  was  all  kindness  to  the  young  sculptor.  But  presently 
his_  disposition  changed.  In  Michelangelo's  absence  an 
artist  who  was  no  friend  of  his,  Bramante  of  Urbino,  had 
been  selected  by  Julius  to  carry  out  a  new  architectural 
sq^eme,  commensurate  with  the  usual  vastness  of  his  con- 
ceptions, namely  the  rebuilding  of  St  Peter's  church.  To 
the  influenco  .;nj  the  malice  of   r.rd]i:-.mtj  '.Michclange'o 


attributed  the  unwelcome  invitation  he  now  received  to 
interrupt  the  great  work  of  sculpture  which  he  had  just 
begun,  in  order  to  decorate  the  Sixtine  chapel  with  frescos. 
Soon,  however,  schemes  of  war  and  conquest  interposed. to 
divert  the  thoughts  of  Julius,  not  from  the  progress  of  his 
own  monument  merely,  but  from  artistic  enterprises 
altogether.  One  day  Michelangelo  heard  him  say  at  table 
to  his  jeweller  that  he  meant  to  spend  uo  more  money  on 
pebbles' either  small  or  great.  To  add  to  the  artist's  dis- 
comfiture, when  he  went  to  apply  in  person  for  paymeuts 
due,  he  was  first  put  off  from  day  to  day,  and  at  last 
actually,  with  scant  courtesy  dismissed.  At  this  his  dark 
mood  got  the  mastery  of  him.  Convinced  that  not  his 
employment  only  but  his  life  was  threatened,  he  suddenly 
took  iorse  and  left  Rome,  and  before  the  messengers  of 
the  pope  could  overtake  him  was  safe  on  Florentine 
territory.  Michelangelo's  flight  took  place  in  April  1506. 
Once  amoiig  his  own  people,  he  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  all 
overtures  made  from  Rome  for  his  return,  and  stayed 
throughout  the  summer  at  Florence,  how  occupied  we  are 
not  distinctly  informed,  but  apparently,  among  other 
things,  on  the  continuation  of  his  great  battle  cartoon. 

During  the  same  summer  Julius  planned  and  executed 
the  victorious  military  campaign  which  ended  in  his 
unopposed  entry  at  the  head  of  his  army  into  Bologna. 
Thither,  under  strict  safe-conduct  and  promises  of  renewed 
favour,  Michelangelo  was  at  last  prevailed  on  to  betake 
himself.  Julius  received  the  truant  artist  kindly,  as  indeed 
between  these  twa  volcanic  natures  there  existed  a  natural 
affinity,  and  ordered  of  him  his  own  colossal  likeness  in 
bronze,  to  be  set  up,  as  a  symbol  of  his  conquering 
authority,  over  the  principal  entrance  of  the  church  of  St 
Petronius.  For  the  next  fifteen  months  Michelangelo 
devoted  his  whole  strength  to  this  new  task.  The  price 
at  which  he  undertook  it  left  him,  as  it  turned  out,  hardly 
any  margin  to  subsist  on.  Jloreover,  in  the  technical  art 
of  metal  casting  he  was  inexperienced,  and  an  assistant 
whom  he  had  summoned  from  Florence  proved  insubor- 
dinate and  had  to  be  dismissed.  Nevertheless  his  genius 
prevailed  over  every  hardship  and  difficulty,  and  on  the 
21st  of  February  1508  the  maje.^tio  bronze  colossus  of 
the  seated  pope,  robed  and  mitred,  with  one  hand  grasping 
the  keys  and  the  other  extended  in  a  gesture  of  benedic- 
tion and  command,  was  duly  raised  to  its  station  over  the 
church  porch.  Three  years  later  it  was  destroyed  in  a 
revobition.  The  people  of  Bologna  rose  against  the 
authority  of  Julius ;  his  delegates  and  partisans  Were  cast 
out,  and  his  effigy  hurled  from  its  place.  The  work  of 
Michelangelo,  after  being  trailed  in  derision  through  the 
streets,  was  broken  up  and  its  fragments  cast  into  the 
furnace. 

Meanwhile  the  artist  himself,  as  soon  as  his  work  was 
done,  had  followed  his  reconciled  master  back  to  Rome. 
The  task  that  here  awaited  him,  however,  was  after  all  not 
the  resumption  of  the  papal  monument,  but  the  execution 
of  the  series  of  paintings  in  the  Sixtine  chapel  which  had 
been  mooted  before  his  departure.  Painting,  he  always 
averred,  was  not  his  business;  and  he  entered  with 
mi-sgiving  and  reluctance  upon  his  new  undertaking. 
Destiny,  however,  so  ruled  that  the  work  thus  thrust  upon 
him  remains  his  chief  title  to  glory.  His  history  is  one  of 
indomitable  will  and  atoiost  superhuman  energy,  yet  of  will 
that  hardly  ever  had  its  way,  and  of  energy  continually 
at  war  with  circumstance.  The  only  work  which  in  all  his 
life  he  was  able  to  complete  as  he  had  conceived  it  was 
this  of  the  decoration  of  the  Sixtine  ceiling.  The  pope 
had  at  first  proposed  a  scheme  including  figures  of  the 
twelve  apostles  only.  Michelangelo  would  be  content  with 
nousht  so  meacre,  and  furnished  in.steod  a  design  of  many 
huiidrtd  tigureX  Lmbovlyi'i-  all  ih-i  lii.^lory  oi  creation  and 


232 


MICHELANGELO 


of  the  first  patriarchs,  with  accessory  personages  of  prophets 
and,  sibyls  dreaming  on  the  new  disi>ensation  to  come,  and, 
in  addition,  those  of  the  forefathers  of  Christ.  The  whole 
was  to  be  enclosed  and  di\'ided  by  an  elaborate  framework 
of  painted  architecture,  with  a  multitude  of  nameless  human 
shapes  supporting  its  several  members  or  reposing  among 
them, — shapes  mediating,  as  it  were,  between  the  features 
of  the  inanimate  framework  and  those  of  the  great  dramatic 
and  prophetic  scenes  themselves.  Michelangelo's  plan  was 
accepted  by  the  pope,  and  by  !May  150S  his  preparations 
for  its  execution  were  made.  Later  in  the  same  year  he 
summoned  a  number  of  assistant  painters  from  Florence. 
Trained  in  the  traditions  of  the  earlier  Florentine  school, 
they  were  unable,  it  seems,  to  interpret  Michelangelo's 
designs  in  fresco  either  with  sufficient  freedom  or  sufficient 
uniformity  of  style  to  satisfy  him.  At  any  rate  he  soon 
dismissed  them,  and  carried  out  the  remainder  of  his 
colossal  task  alone,  except  for  the  necessary  amount  of 
ptirely  mechanical  and  subordinate  help.  The  physical 
conditions  of  prolonged  work,  face  upwards,  upon  this  vast 
expanse  of  ceiling  were  adverse  and  trying  in  the  extreme. 
But  after  four  and  a  half  years  of  toil  the  task  was 
accomplished.  Michelangelo  had  during  its  progress  been 
harassed  alike  by  delays  of  payment  and  by  hostile  intrigue. 
The  a'osolute  need  of  funds  for  the  furtherance  of  the 
undertaking  had  even  constrained  him  at  one  moment  to 
break  off  work,  and  pursue  his  inconsiderate  master  as  far 
as  Bologna.  His  ill-wishers  at  the  same  time  kept  casting 
doubts  on  his  capacity,  and  vaunting  the  superior  powers 
of  Raphael.  That  gentle  spirit  would  by  nature  have  been 
no  man's  enemy,  but  unluckily  Michelangelo's  moody,  self- 
concentrated  temper  prevented  the  two  artists  being  on 
terms  of  amity  .such  as  might  have  slopped  the  moutlis  of 
mischief-makers.  Once  during  the  progress  of  his  task 
Michelangelo  was  compelled  to  remove  a  portion  of  the 
Bcaflolding  and  exhibit  what  had  been  so  far  done,  when 
the  effect  alike  upon  friends  and  detractors  was  overwhelm- 
ing. Still  more  complete  was  his  triumph  when,  late  in 
the  autumn  of  1512,  the  whole  of  his  vast  achievement 
was  disclosed  to  view. 

The  main  field  of  the  Sixtino  ceiling  is  diviJeJ  into  four  larger 
alternating  with  five  smaller  fields.  .  The  following  is  the  order  of  the 
subjects  depicted  in  them; — (1)  the  dividing  of  the  light  from  tlie 
darkness;  (2)  the  creation  of  sun,  moon,  and  stars,  and  of  tlie 
herbage  ;  (3)  the  creation  of  the  waters  ;  (4)  the  creation  of  man  ; 

(6)  the   creation   of  woman  ;  (6)  the   temptation   and   expulsion  ; 

(7)  an  enigmatical  scene,  said  to  represent  the  sacrifice  of  Cain  and 
Abel,  but  rather  resemhlin"  the  sacrifice  of  Noah  ;  (8)  tlie  deluge  ; 
(9)  the  drunkenness  of  Noah.  The  figures  in  the  last  tliree  of  thc=e 
scenes  are  on  a  smaller  scale  than  those  in  the  first  six.  In  numbers 
),  3,  5,  7,  and  9  the  field  of  the  picture  is  reduced  by  the  encroach- 
ments of  the  architectural  framework  and  supportei-s.  These  sub- 
jects are  flanked  at  each  end  by  the  figure  of  a  seated  prophet  or 
sibyl  alternately;  two  other  prophets  are  introduced  at  each  ex- 
tremity of  the  series,  making  seven  prophets  and  five  sibyls  in  all.  In 
the  angles  to  right  and  left  of  the  prophets  at  the  two  extremities 
are  the  Death  of  Goliath,  the  Death  of  Judith,  the  Brazen  Ser- 
pent, and  the  Panishment  of  Haman.  In  the  twelve  lunettes 
above  the  windows,  and  the  similar  number  of  triangular  vaulted 
spaces  over  them,  are  mysterious  ponj>s,  or  pairs  of  groups,  of 
figures,  which  from  Michelangelo's  own  time  have  usually  been 
known  as  Ancestors  of  Christ,  The  army  of  nameless  architectural 
and  subordinate  figures  is  too  numerous  to  bo  liero  spoken  of. 
The  work  represents  all  the  powers' of  Michelangelo  at  their  best. 
Disdaining  all  the  accessory  allurements  of  the  painttr's  att,  he 
has  concentrated  Itimself  upon  the  exclusive  delineation  of  the 
human  form  and  face  at  their  highest  power.  His  imagination 
lias  conceived,  and  his  knowledge  and  certainty  of  hand  have  enabled 
liim  to  realize,  attitudes  and  combinations  of  unmatched  variety 
and  grandeur,  and  countenances  of  unni.itched  expressiveness  anil 
power.  But^e  has  not  trusted,  as  he  came  later  to  trust,  to  science 
and  acquired  knowledge  merely,  neither  do  his  personages,  so  far 
as  they  did  r  ftcrwards,  transcend  human  possibility  or  leave  the 
fact.s  of  actual  life  behind  them.  In  a  word,  his  sublimity,  often 
in  excess  of  the  occasion,  is  here  no  more  than  equal  to  it ;  more- 
over,it  is  combined  with  the  noblest  clemonts  of  grace  and  even  of 
tcndernosa.     As  for  the  intellectual  meanings  of  his  vast  design, 


I  over  and  above  those  wliieh  reveal  thf  msflvrs  ,it  a  first  glance  or 

by  a  bare  description, — they  are  from  the  nature  of  the  case  in- 

I  exhaustible,  and  c;cn  never  be  perfectly  defined.      'WhateTer  the 

(  soul  of  this  great   Florentine,  the  spiritual  heir  of  Dante,  with 

I  the  Christianity  of  the  Jliddle  Age  not  shaken  in  hia  mind,  but 

expanded  and  transccndentalized,  by  the  knowledge  and  love  of 

Plato, — whatever  tiie  soul  of  such  a  man,  full  of  suppressed  tA.*nder- 

ness  and  righteous  indignation,  and   of   anxious  questionings  of 

coming  fate,  eould  conceive,  that  Michelarigelo  has  expressed  or 

shadowed  forth  in  this  great  and  significant  scheme  of  paintings. 

The  details  it  must  remain  for  every  fresh  student  to  interpret  in 

his  own  manner. 

The   SLxtine   chapel   was   no   sooner   completed   than 
Michelangelo   resumed   work   upon  the   marbles  for   the 
monument  of  Julius.     But  four  n-.onths  only  had  passed 
'  when  Julius  died.     His  heirs  immediately  entered  (in  the 
I  summer  of  1513)  into  a  new  contract  with  Michelangelo 
I  for  the  execution  of  the  monument  on  a  reduced  scale. 
1  VfUat  the  precise  nature  and  extent  of  the  original  design 
I  had  been  "n'e  do  not  know,  but  the  new  one  was  extensive 
and  magnificent  enough.     It   was  to  consist  of   a   great 
quadrilateral  structure,  two  courses  high,  projecting  from 
the  church  wall,  and  decorated  on  its  three  unattached  side« 
with  statues.     On  the  upper  course  was  to  be  placed  the 
colossal  recumbent  figure  of  the  pope   under   a   canopy, 
and    beside    it    mourning   angels,    with    prophetic    and 
■  allegoric   personages   at    the    angles, — sixteen  figures    in 
I  all.     The  lower  course  was  to  be  enriched  with  twenty- 
four   figures  in  niches  and  ou  projecting  pedestals  : — ia 
!  the   niches.  Victories  trampling  Ou  conquered  Provinces: 
I  in   the   pedestals,  Arts  and   Sciences   in   bond,  ^.e.     The 
I  entire  work   was  to   be   completed   in    nine  years'   time. 
During  the  next  three  years,  it  would  seem,  Michelangelo 
j  brought   to   completion  three   at   least  of   the   promised 
figures,  and  they  arc  among  the  most  famous  of  all  exist- 
ing works  of  the  sculptor's  art, — namely,  the  Moses  now 
in  the  church  of  S.  Pietro  in  Vincoli  at  Rome  and  the 
two  "  Slaves  "  at  the  Louvre. 

The  Moses,  originally  intended  for  one  of  the  angles  of  the  upper 
course,  is  now  placed  at  the  level  of  the  eye,  in  the  centre  of  the 
princip.^1  face  of  the  monument  as  it  was  at  last  finished,  on  a 
deplorably  reduced  and  altered  scale,  by  Michelangelo  and  his 
assistants  in  his  old  age.  The  prophet,  heavily  bearded  and  dniped, 
with,  only  his  right  arm  bare,  sits  with  his  left  foot  drawn  back, 
his  head  raised  and  tumed  to  tlie  left  with  an  expression  of  in- 
digiintipn  and  menace,  his  left  hand  laid  on  his  lap  and  his  right 
grasping  tho  tables  of  the  law.  The  work,  except  in  one  or  two 
places,  is  of  the  utmost  finish,  and  the  statue  looks  like  one  of  the 
prophetsof  the  Sixtineccilin"  done  iu  marble.  The  "  Slaves  "  at 
the  Louvre  are  youthful  male  figures  of  e<tual)y  perfect  execution, 
nude  but  for  the  band  which  passes  over  tlie  breast  of  one  and  the 
right  leg  of  the  other.  One,  w-ith  his  left  hand  raised  to  l;is  head 
and  his  right  prc-^sed  to  his  boscm,  and  his  tyes  almost  closed, 
seems  succumbing  to  the  agonies  of  death ;  the  other,  with  his  arms 
bound  behind  his  back,  looks  upward  still  hopelessly  struggling. 
There  is  reason  to  believe  that  all  three  of  these  figures  were  finished 
between  1613  and  151G.  The  beginnings  of  other  figures  or  groups 
intended  for  the  same  monument  are  to  !'«  found  at  florenco,  \vhero 
they  were  no  doubt  made  and  then  abandoned  some  years  h'.ter,  — 
viz.,  four  rudely  blocked  figures  of  slaves  or  prisonore,  in  a  grotto 
of  the  Boboli  gardeis,  and  the  sc-eallcd  Victory  in  the  National 
Museum,  an  unfinished  gioup  of  a  conil)atant  kneeling  on  and 
crushing  to  death  a  fallen  enemy;  with  tliesc  may  be  associated 
a  wax  model  known  us  Hercules  and  Cacus  in  the  South  Keo- 
sington  Museum,  aud  the  figure  of  a  crouching  man  at  St  Peters- 
burg. 

By  this  time  (1516)  Michelangelo's  evil  star  was  again 
in  the  ascendant  Julius  IL  had  been  succeeded  on  the 
papal  throne  by  a  Medici  under  the  title  of  Leo  X.  The 
Medici,  too,  had  about  the  tame  time  by  force  and  fraud 
re-established  their  sway  in  Florence,  overthrowing  the  free 
institutions  that  had  prevailed  there  since  tho  days  of 
Savonarola.  Now  un  the  one  hand  this  family  .jvcrc  the 
hereditary  friends  and  patrons  of  Michelangelo;  on  the 
other  hand  he  was  a  patriotic  son  of  republican  Florence; 
60  that  henceforward  his  personal  allegiance  and  his 
political  Eympatliies  were  destined  to  be  at  conflict.     Over 


MICHELANGELO 


233 


much  of  bis  art,  a-s  has  been  thought,  ttie  pain  and  per- 
plexity of  this  conflict  have  cast  their  shadow.  ;.  For  the 
present  the  consequence  to  him  of  the  rise  to  power  of  the 
Medici  was  a  fresh  interruption  of  his  cherished  work  on 
the  tomb  of  Julius.  Leo  X.  and  his  kinsmen  insisted  that 
Jlichelangelo,  regardless  of  all  other  engagements,  must 
design  and  carry  out  a  great  new  scheme  for  the-  enrich- 
ment of  their  own  family  church  of  San  Lorenzo  in 
Florence.  The  heirs  of  Julius  on  their  part  showed  an 
accommodating  temper,  and  at  the  request  of  Leo  allowed 
their  threeyears'-old  contract  to  be  cancelled  in  favour  of 
another,  whereby  the  scale  and  sculptured  decorations  of 
the  Julian  monument  were  again  to  be  reduced  by  nearly 
a  half.^  Unwillingly  Michelangelo  accepted  the  new  com- 
mission thus  thrust  upon  him  for  the  churcli  facade  at 
Florence;  but,  having  once  accepted  it,  he  produced  a 
design  of  combined  sculpture  and  architecture  as  splendid 
and  ambitious  in  its  way  as  had  been  that  for  the  monu- 
ment of  Julius.  In  the  summer  of  151C  he  left  Rome  for 
Carrara  to  superintend  the  excavation  of  the  marbles. 

Michelangelo  was  now  in  his  forty-second  year.  Though 
more  than  half  his  life  was  yet  to  come,  yet  its  best 
days  had,  as  it  proved,  been  spent.  All  the  hindrances 
■which  he  had  encovmtered  hitherto  were  as  nothing  to 
tliose  wliicli  began  to  beset  hun  now.  For  the  supply  of 
materials  for  the  fagade  of  San  Lorenzo  he  had  set  a  firm 
of  masons  to  work,  and  had  himself,  it  seems,  entered  into 
a  kind  of  partnership  with  them,  at  Carrara,  where  lie  knew 
the  quarries  well,  and  where  the  industry  was  hereditaiy 
and  well  understood.  AVhen  all  was  well  in  progress  there 
under  his  own  eye,  reasons  of  state  induced  the  Medici 
and  the  Florentine  magistracy  to  bid  him  resort  insti,a<J 
to  certain  new  quarries  at  Pietrasanta,  near  Serravallc  in 
the  territory  of  Florence  Hither,  to  the  di.sgust  of  liis  olil 
clients  at  Carrara  and  to  his  own,  Michelangelo  accordingly 
had  to  transfer  tlfe  scene  of  his  labours.  Presently  he  found 
himself  so  innicJed  and  enraged  by  the  mechanical  difficulties 
of  raising  and  traiisi>orting  the  marbles,  and  by  the  disloyalty 
and  incompetence  of  tlioac  with  whom  he  Jiad  to  deal,  that 
he  was  fain  to  throw  up  the  commission  altogether.  Tlie 
contracts  for  the  fa^^ade  of  San  Lorenzo  were  rescinded  in 
Jlaroh  1518,  and  the  whole  magnificent  sdieme  came  to 
notliing.  "Michelangelo  then  returned  to  Florence,  where 
proposals" of  work  pouied  in  oii  him  from  many  quarters. 
The  king  of  France  desired  sometliing  from  his  liand  to 
place  Wsidc  the  two  pictures  he  possessed  by  Raphael. 
The  authorities  of  Bologna  wanted  liim  to  design  a  fai;adc 
for  their  cliurch  of  St  IVtnmiti.s  ;  those  of  Genoa  to  ca.~t  a 
Btatuc  in  bronze  of  their  gnat  comniamler,  Andrea  Doria. 
Cardinaljjrimani  begged  hard  for  any  (Mcturo  or  s(atue  he 
might  have  to  tparc  ;  other  amateurs  importuned  him  for 
so  much  as  a  pencil  drawing  or  sketch.  Lastly  his  friei\d 
and  partisan  Sebastian  del  I'lombo  at  Rome,  ever  eager  to 
keep  ui>  the  feud  between  the  followers  of  Midielangelo 
and'those  of  Rapliael,  be>ouglit  him  on  Raphael's  death  to 
return  at  once  to  liomc,  and  take  out  of  the  hands  of  the 
dead  master's  pupiU  the  works  of  painting  still  remaining 
to  be  done  inihe  S'atican  chamlicrs.  Michelangelo  complied 
with  none  of  these  requests.  All  that  wc  know  oT  hi*  iloing 
at  this.timc  was  the  finishing  a  connnission  received  iind 
first  put  in  liand  fovu'  years  previously,  for  a  full-sized 
Btatue  of  a  nude  Christ  grasi.ing  the  Cross.  This  statue, 
completed  and  sent  to  Rome  in  l'>21  (with some  List  touches 
added  by  su'iordinatc.  hands  in  Rome  itself),  stands  now  in 
the  cliurch  of  Sta  Maria  soiira  Minerva  ;  there  is  little  in 
it  of  the  Christian  spirit  as  commonly  nn.lcrstood,  although, 
ill  those  parts  which  MicIielangL-Ki  liinisvlf  finished,  there 
is  extreme  accoiiipli>limeiit  of  desi'.;n  ami  workmanship. 

■Jlicncxt  twclNC  years  of  Mi.helangilo.s  life  (l.")-2-2-:ll) 
were  spent  at  Florence,  and  again  emiiloyeU'priucipally  iu 


the  service  of  his  capricious  and  ancongenial  patrons,  the 
Medici.  The  plan  of  a  great  group  of  monuments  to 
deceased  members  of  this  family,  to  be  set  up  in  their 
mortuary  chapel  in  San  Lorenzo,  seems  to  have  been  formed,' 
and  preparations  to  have  been  made  by  Jlichelangelo  for 
its  execution,  as  early  as  1519.  It  was  not,  however,  until 
1524,  after  Leo  X.  had  died,  and  his  successor  Adrian  VI. 
had  been  in  his  turn  succeeded  by  another  Medicean  pope, 
Clement  VII.,  that  any  practical  impulse  was  given  to  the 
work.  Even  then  the  impulse  was  a  wavering  one.  First 
Clement  proposed  to  associate  another  artist,  Sansavino, 
with  Michelangelo  in  his  task.  This  proposal  being  on 
Michelangelo's  peremptory  demand  abandoned,  Clement 
next  distracted  the  artist  with  an  order  for  a  new  archi- 
tectural design, — that,  nimely,  for  the  proposed  Jledicean 
or  "  Laurentian  "  library.  When  at  last  the  plans  for  the 
sepulchral  monuments  took  shape,  they  did  not  include,  aa 
had  been  at  first  intended,  memorials  to  the  founders  of 
the  house's  greatness,  Cosimo  and  Lorenzo  the  JIagnificent,' 
or  even  to  Pope  Leo  X.  himself,  but  only  to  two  younger 
members  of  the  house  lately  deceased,  Giuliano,  duke  of 
Nemours,  and  Lorenzo,  duke  of  Urbino.  '<  Michelangelo 
biooded,long  over  his  designs  for  this  work,  and  was  still 
engaged  on  its  execution — his  time  being  partly  also  taken' 
up  by  tlie  building  jilans  for  the  Medicean  library-r-when 
political  revolutions  interposed  to  divert  his  industry,"  .In 
1527  came  to  pass  the  sack  of  Rome  by  the  AustriansJ 
and  the  apparently  irretrievable  ruin  of  Pope  Clement.^  ,The 
Florentines  seized  the  occasion  to  expel  the  Medici  from 
their  city,  and  sot  up  a  free  republican  government  ^once 
more.  Naturally  no  more  funds  for  the  work;  in  -San 
'!,o''enzo  were  forthcoming,  and  Michelangelo,  on  the 
invitation  of  the  new  signory,  occupied  himself  for  a 
«liilo  with  designs  for  a  colossal  group  of  Samson  and 
the  Pliilistines,  to  be  wrought  out  of  a  block  of  marble 
which  Irad  been  rough-hewn  already  for  another  purpose 
by  Baccio  Bandinelli.  Soon,  however,,  he  .was  called  to 
help  in  defending  the  city  itself  from  danger.  Clement  and 
his  enemy  Charles  V.  having  become  reconciled,  both  alike 
were  now  bent  on  bringing  Florence  again  under  the  nUe  of 
tlie  Medici.  In  view  of  the  approaching  siege,  Michelangelo 
was  a]i]>ointed  engineer-in-chief  of  the  fortifications.  He 
spent  the  early  summer  of  1529  in  strengthening  the 
defences  of  San  Miniato ;  from  Ju.ly  to  September  he  waa 
absent  on  a  diplomatic  mission  to  Ferrara  and  Venice. 
Returning  in  the  middle  of  the  latter  month,  he  found  the 
cause  of  Florence  hopeless  from  internal  treachery  and 
from  the  overwhelming  strength  of  her  enemies.  One  of 
his  dark  seizures  overcame  him,  and  he  departed  again 
suddenly  for  A'enice.  Not  cowardice,  but  despair  of  his 
(rity's  liberties,  and  still  more  of  his  own  professional  pro- 
spects amid  the  turmoil  of  Italian  affaii's,  was  the  motive 
of  his  departure.  For  a  while  he  remained  in  Venice, 
negotiating  for  a  future  residence  in  France.  Then,  while 
the  siege  was  still  in  progress,  he  returned  once  more  to 
Florence  ;  but  in  the  final  death-struggle  of  her  hbeHies  he 
bore  no  part.  When  in  1530  the  city  submitted  to  her 
conquerors,  no  mercy,  was  shown  to  most  of  those  who  had 
taken  part  in  her  defence.  Michelangelo  believed  himself 
in  danger  with  the  rest,  but  on  the  intervention  of  Baccio 
Valori  he  was  jircscntly  taken  back  into  favour  and 
employment  by  Pope  Clement.  For  three  years  more  he 
still  remained  at  Florence,  engaged  princiimlly  on  the  cotH- 
I'letionof  tlic  Medici  monuments,  and  on  the  continuance  of 
the  Medicean  library,  but  partly  also,  oil  a  picUire  of»Led^ 
for  the  duke  of  Ferrara. '" 

Til.-  sintii.-i  nf  tlic  McJii-i  inoniimont  taKc  rank  licsiilo  the  Mose« 

.111.1  till-  Slaves  ns  tin:  liu.-st  work  of  iliiliobnsdo's  central. tima 

ill  >cul|.tiiu- ;  moi.ovcr.  tlinudi  some  of  t*c  n.:;iiics  .ire  uufiaisliecl,! 

tlipv  coualiiulc  as  iKtu:illy  executed  a  coiiq'Klo  sclicnie.      TUey 

XVI.  —  30 


234 


Yi  I  C  H  E  L  A  X  G  K  L  O 


:onsist  of  a  Kadonns  and  Child  (left  impeifect  because  the  marble 
was  short  in  bulk),  and  of  tlie  two  famous  monumental  groups,  each 
consisting  of  an  armed  and  seated  portrait-statue  in  a  niche,  with 
two  emblematic  figures  reclining  on  each  svle  of  a  sarcophagus 
below.  The  portraits  are  treated  not  realistically  but  typically.  In 
that  of  Lorenzo  seems  to  be  typified  the  mood  of  bi-ooding  and 
concentrated  inward  thought  preparatory  to  warlike  action  ;  in 
that  of  Giuliano,  llie  type  of  alert  and  confident  practical  survey 
immediately  preceding  the  moment  of  action.  To  this  contrast  of 
the  meditative  and  active  characters  coiTesponds  to  some  ext^it  a 
^contrast  in  the  emblematic  groups  accompanying  the  portraits.  At 
the  feetof  the  Duke  Giuliano  recline  the  shapes  of  Night  and  Day, — 
Ithe  former  a  female,  the  latter  a  male  personification, — the  former 
fiunk  in  an  attitude  of  deep  but  uneasy  slumber,  the  latter  (whoso 
head  and  face  are  merely  blocked  out  of  the  marble)  lifting  himself 
ftn  one  of  wrathful  and  disturbed  awakening.  But  for  Michelangelo's 
(unfailing  grandeur  of  style,  and  for  the  sense  which  his  works  con- 
,vey  of  a  compulsive  heat  and  tempest  of  thought  and  feeling  in  the 
iGoul  that  thus  conceived  them,  both  these  attitudes  might  be  charged 
jwith  extravagance.  As  grand,  but  far  less  violent,  are  those  of  the 
two  companion  figures  that  recline  between  sleep  and  waking  on 
the  sarcophagus  of  the  pensive  Lorenzo.  Of  these,  the  male  figure 
is  known  as  Evening,  and  the  female  as  Morning  {Crcpitscolo  and 
'Aurora).  In  Michelangelo's  origiual  idea,  figures  of  Earth  and 
Heaven  were  to  be  associated  with  those  of  Night  and  Day  on  the 
monument  of  Giuliano,  and  others  of  a  corresponding  nature,  no 
doubt,  with  those  of  the  Sloming  and  Evening  Twilight  on  that  of 
Lorenzo  ;  these  figures  afterwards  fell  out  of  the  scheme.  Michel- 
angelo's obvious  and  fundament.al  idea  was,  as  some  words  of  his 
own  record,  to  exhibit  the  elements,  and  tlia  powers  of  earth  and 
heaven,  lamenting  the  death  of  the  princes  ;  it  is  a  question  of 
much  interest,  but  not  to  be  discussed  here,  what  other  ideas  of 
a  more  personal  and  deeper  kind  may  have  conflicted  or  come  into 
association  with  these,  and  found  e.\pression  in  these  majestic 
works  of  art,  whereof  no  one  who  looks  upon  them  can  escape  the 
spell. 

Michelangelo  had  never  ceased  to  be  troubled  by  the  heirs 
and  executors  of  Julius,  as  well  as  by  his  o«ti  artistic  con- 
science and  ambition,  concerning  the  long-postponed  comple- 
tion of  the  Julian  monument.  Agreement  after  agreement 
had  been  made,  and  then  from  the  force  of  circumstances 
broken.  In  1532,  on  the  completion  of  the  Medicean  monu- 
ments at  Florence,  he  entered  into  a  new  and  what  he  firmly 
meant  to  be  a  binding  contract  to  complete  the  work,  on  a 
scale  once  more  very  greatly  reduced,  and  to  set  it  up  in  the 
church  of  S.  Pietro  in  Vincoli  in  Rome.  But  once  more 
the  demands  of  the  pope  diverted  his  purpose.  Clement 
insisted  that  Michelangelo  must  complete  his  decorations 
of  the  SLxtine  chapel  by  painting  anew  the  great  end 
wall  above  the  altar,  adorned  until  then  by  frescos  of 
Perugino.  The  subject  chosen  was  the  Last  Judgment, 
and  Michelangelo  began  to  prepare  sketches.  For  the 
next  two  years  he  lived  between  Rome  and  Florence,  and 
in  the  autumn  of  1534,  in  his  si.xtieth  year,  settled  finally 
and  for  the  remainder  of  his  life  at  Rome.  Immediately 
afterwards  Pope  Clement  died,  and  was  succeeded  by  a 
Farnese  under  the  title  of  Paul  III.  Even  more  than  his 
predecessor,  Paid  insisted  on  claiming  the  main  services  of  ■ 
Michelangelo  for  himself,  and  forced  him  to  let  all  other 
engagements  drift.  For  the  first  seven  years  after  the 
artist's  return  to  Rome,  his  time  was  princiiially  taken  up 
with  the  painting  of  the  colossal  and  multitudinous  Last 
Judgment.  This  being  completed  in  15-11,  he  was  next 
compelled  to  undertake  two  more  great  frcsco.s,  one  of  the 
Conversion  of  Paul  and  another  of  the  Martyrdom  of  Peter, 
in  a  new  chapel  which  the  pope  had  caused  to  be  built  in 
the  Vatican,  an<i  named  after  himself  Capella  Paolina. 

The  fresco  of  the  Last  Judgment  in  the  Sixtine  chapel  is  )>robably 
the  most  famous  single  picture  in  the  world.  In  it  Jliclielangclo 
shows  more  than  ever  tlic  omnipotence  of  his  artistic  scienro,  nnd 
the  fiery  daring  of  liis  conceptions.  Tho  work  exhibits  the 
athletic  unclothed  human  form,  in  every  vaiiety  and  extremity  of 
hitherto  unattenipted  action  and  predicament.  But  of  moderation, 
as  well  as  of  beauty  and  tendcniess,  it  is  almost  entirely  devoitl. 
Whether  from  the  complexion  of  his  own  thoughts,  and  the 
8xva  indigiiatio  that  was  native  to  his  breast,  or  from  the  influ- 
ence of  the  passionate  and  embittered  theological  temper  of  the 
time,  Michelangelo  Ims  iiere  neglected  tho  consolatory  aspects  of 
ChriBtianity,  and  insisted  on  its  terrific  aspects  almost  c.\clusively. 


Neither  in  the  qualities  of  colour  and  execution  is  the  work,  so  far 
as  the  condition  of  either  adinits  comparison,  comj-arable  for  charni 
to  the  earlier  and  far  more  nobly-inspired  fresf-os  of  the  ceiling. 
It  is  to  these,  and  not  to  the  Last  Judgment,  that  the  student  must 
turn  if  he  would  realize  what  is  best  and  greatest  in  the  art  of 
Michelangelo. 

The  frescos  of  the  Pauline  Chapel  are  on  their  part  in  part  so 
injured  as  to  be  hardly  susceptible  of  useful  study  or  criticism. 
In  their  rftined  state  they  bear  evidence  of  the  same  tendencies  that 
made  the  art  of  Michelangelo  in  its  latest  phase  so  dangerous 
an  exaroi>le  to  weaker  men, — tho  tendency,  that  is,  to  seek  for 
energy  and  violence  of  action  both  in  place  and  out,  lor  "terrible- 
ness  "  qiuind  mime,  and  to  design  actions  not  by  help  of  direct 
study  from  nature,  but  by  scientific  deduction  from  the  abstract 
laws  of  structure  and  movement.  At  best  tbise  frescos  can  never 
have  been  happy  examples  of  Michelangelo's  art. 

During  the  fifteen  years  (1534-49)  when  Michelangelo 
was  mainly  engaged  on  these  paintings,  be  had  also  at 
last  been  enabled  to  -acquit  himself,  although  in  a  manner 
that  can  have  been  satisfactory  to  none  concerned,  of  his 
engagements  to  the  heirs  of  Julius.  Once  more  the 
influence  of  the  pope  had  prevailed  on  them  to  accept  a 
compromise  altogether  to  their  disadvantage.  It  we-s 
agreed  that  the  Moses  executed  thirty  years  before  should 
be. the  central  figure  of  the  new  scheme;  assistants  were 
employed  to  carve  two  smaller  flanking  figures  of  female 
personifications;  and  the  three  were  in  1545  set  up  in  6. 
Pietro  in  Vincoli  in  combination  with  an  architectural 
structure  of  rich  but  incongruous  design.  During  tbt 
same  years  the  long-pent  human  elements  of  fervour  and 
tenderness  in  Michelangelo's  nature  had  found  vent  and 
utterance  such  as  they  had  never  found  before.  He  had 
occasionally  practised  poetry  in  youth,  and  there  are  sigas 
of  some  transient  love-passage  during  his  life  at  Bologcu. 
But  it  was  not  until  towards  his  sixtieth  year  that  the 
springs  of  feeling  were  fairly  opened  in  the  heart  of  tbi.- 
solitary,  this  masterful  and  stern,  life-wearied  and  labou.'- 
hardened  man.  Towards  that  age  we  find  him  beginning 
to  address  impassioned  sonnets,  of  which  the  sentiment  is 
curiously  comparable  to  that  expressed  in  some  of  Shake- 
speare's, to  a  beautiful  and  gifted  j  outh,  Tommaso  Cavaheri. 
Soon  afterwards  he  made  the  acquaintance  of  the  piou.s, 
accomplished, and  high-soulcd  lady,  Vittoria  Colonna,  widov,' 
of  the  Marquis  Pescara.  For  twelve  years  until  her  death, 
which  happened  in  1547,  her  friendship  was  the  greatsolacc 
of  Michelangelo's  life.  On  her,  in  all  loyalty  and  reverence, 
he  poured  out  all  the  treasures  of  his  mind,  and  all  his  im 
prisoned  powers  of  tenderness  and  devotion.  He  painted 
for  her  a  crucifixion  of  extraordinary  beauty,  of  which  many 
imitations  but  not  the  original  have  come  down  to  us.  She 
was  the  chief  inspirer  of  his  poetry, — in  which,  along  with 
her  praises,  the  main  themes  are  the  Christian  religion,  the 
joys  of  Platonic  love,  and  the  power  and  mysteries  of  art. 
Michelangelo's  poetical  style  is  strenuous  and  concentrated 
hke  the  man.  He  wrote  with  labour  and  much  self-correc- 
tion ;  we  seem  to  feel  him  flinging  himself  on  the  material 
of  language  with  the  same  overwhelming  energy  and 
vehemence, — the  same  impetuosity  of  temperament,  coic- 
biiied  with  the  same  fierce  desire  of  perfection, — with 
which  contemporaries  describe  him  as  flinging  himself  en 
the  material  of  marble. 

And  so  the  mighty  sculptor,  painter,  and  poet  reached 
old  age.  An  infirmity  which  settled  on  him  in  1544,  and 
the  death  of  Vittoria  Colonna  in  154",  left  him  broken  in 
health  and  heart.  But  his  strength  held  on  for  many  a 
year  longer  yet.  His  father  and  brothers  were  dead,  and 
his  family  sentiment  concentrated  itself  on  a  nephew, 
Leonardo,  to  whom  he  showed  unremitting  practical  kind- 
ness, coupled  with  his  usual  suspiciousness  and  fitfulness 
of  temper.  In  almost  all  his  relations  the  old  man  con- 
tinued to  the  end  to  manifest  the  same  loyal  and  righteous 
heart,  accompanied  by  the  same  masterful,  moody,  and 
estranring  temper,   as  in  youth.      Aoiong  the  artists  of 


M  I  C  — M  I  C 


235 


the  younger  generation  he  held  a  position  ot  aosolute 
ascendency  and  authority ;  nor  was  his  example,  as  we 
have  said,  by  any  means  altogether  salutary  for  them. 
During  the  last  years  of  his  life  he  made  but  few 
more  essays  in  sculpture,  and  those  not  successful,  but 
wais  much  employed  in  the  fourth  art  in  which  he  ex- 
celled, that  of  architecture.  A  succession  of  popes  de- 
manded his  serWces  for  the  embellishment  of  Eome. 
For  Paul  III.  he  built  the  palace  called  after  the  name  of 
the  pope's  family  the  Farnese.  On  the  death  of  Antonio 
da  San  Gallo  he  succeeded  to  the  onerous  and  coveted 
office  of  chief  architect  of  St  Peter's  Church,  for  which  he 
remodelled  all  the  designs,  living  to  see  some  of  the  main 
features,  including  the  supports  and  lower  portion  of  the 
great  central  dome,  carried  out  in  spite  of  all  obstacles 
according  to  his  plans.  Other  great  architectural  tasks  on 
which  he  was  engaged  were  the  conversion  of  a  portion  of 
the  Baths  of  Diocletian  into  the  church  of  Sta  Maria  degli 
Angeli,  and  the  embellishment  and  rearrangement  of  the 
great  group  of  buildings  on  the  Roman  Capitol.  At  length, 
in  the  midst  of  these  vast  schemes  aod  responsibilities,  the 
heroic  old  man's  last  remains  of  strength  gave  way.  He 
died  on  the  threshold  of  his  ninetieth  year,  on  the  ISth  of 
February  1564. 

For  the  bibliography  of  llichekngelo,  which  is  extensive,  see  the 
nseful  though  very  imperfect  compilation  of  Pasecrini,  Biblior/rafia 
di  Michelangelo  Biionarrotif  kc,  Florence,  1875.  The  most  import- 
ant works,  taken  in  chronological  order,  are  the  following: — P. 
Giovio,  supplement  to  the  fragmentary  ZHalogits  dc  viris  liiteris 
illustribus,  written  soon  after  1527,  first  published  by  Tiraboschi, 
Sttria  delta  LetUralura  iialiana,  Modena,  1871;  G.  Vasari,  in 
Vite  dfgli  piit  eccellenli  architettori,  pittori,  c  sntUori,  &c., 
Florence,  1550;  A.  Condivi,  Fita  di  Michelangelo  Buonarroti^ 
1653;  this  account,  for  which  the  author,  a  pupil  and  friend  of  the 
master's,  had  long  been  collecting  materials,  was  much  fuller  than 
that  of  Vasari,  who  made  use  of  it  in  rewTiting  his  own  life  of 
Michelangelo  for  his  second  edition,  which  appeared  after  the 
master's  death  (1568).  The  best  edition  of  Vasari  is  that  by  Mila- 
nesi,  Florence,  1878-83;  of  Condivi,  that  by  Gori  and  Mariette,  Pisa, 
1746.  The  first  additions  of  importance  were  published  by  Bottari, 
Saccolta  di  lettcre  sulta  pittura,  &c.,  Rome,  1754  (2J  ed.,  by 
Ticozzi,  Milan,  1822);  the  next  by  Gaye,  Carteggio  incdito,  1840. 
Portions  of  the  correspondence  preserved  in  the  Buonarroti  archives 
were  published  by  Guasti  in  his  notes  to  the  Jlimc  di  Michelangelo 
Buonarroti,  1863,  and  by  Daelli  in  Carte  Michelangclesche  inedite, 
Milan,  1865.  Complete  biographies  of  Michelangelo  had  been 
meanwhile  attempted  by  J.  Harford,  London,  1857,  and  with 
more  power  by  Hermann  Grimm,  Lchcn  Michelangelo's,  Hanover 
(5th  ed.,  1879).  A  great  increment  of  biographical  material 
was  at  length  obtained  by  the  publication,  in  the  four  hundredth 
year  after  Michelangelo's  birth,  of  the  whole  body  of  his  letters 
preserved  in  the  Buonarroti  archives, — Lettcre  di  Michelangelo 
Buonarroti,  ed.  G.  Milanesi,  Florence,  1875.  This  material  was 
first  employed  in  a  connected  narrative  by  A.  Gotti,  Vita  di  Michel- 
angelo, Florence,  1875.  Next  followed  C.  Heath  Wilson,  Life  and 
Works  of  Michelangelo  Buonarroti,  Florence,  1875,  the  technical 
remarks  in  which,  especially  as  concerns  the  fresco-paintings,  are 
valuable.  Lastly,  the  combined  lives  of  Michelangelo  and  Raphael 
by  Professor  A.  Springer  in  Dohme's  series  of  KiiTist  u.  Kunstler, 
lieipsic,  1878,  contain  the  best  biography  of  the  master  which  has 
yet  appeared.  Ot  the  poems  of  Michelangelo  the  best  edition  is 
that  already  referred  to, — G.  Guasti,  Bivie  di  Michelangelo  Buonar- 
roti, 1863;  in  earlier  additions  the  text  had  been  recklessly  tampered 
with,  and  the  rugged  individuality  of  the  master's  style  smoothed 
down.  An  edition  with  German  translations  was  published  by 
Hasenclever,  Leipsic,  1 875 ;  for  the  English  student  the  translations 
by  Mr  J.  A.  Symonds,  in  Smmets  of  Michelangelo  and  Cam- 
panella,  London,  1878,  are  invaluable.  (S.  C.) 

MICHELET,  JxTLEs  (1798-1874),  one  of  the  most 
voluminous  and  remarkf.ble  writers  of  France,  and  one 
who  only  lacked  a  keener  power  of  self-criticism  to  make 
him  one  of  the  greatest,  was  born  at  Paris,  August  21,  1798. 
He  belonged  to  a  family  which  had  Huguenot  traditions, 
and  which  was  latterly  occupied  in  the  art  of  printing.  His 
father  was  a  master  printer,  but  seems  not  to  have  been 
▼ery  prosperous,  and  the  son  at  an  early  age  assisted  him 
in  the  actual  work  of  the  press.  A  place  was  offered  him 
in  thd  imperial  printing  office,  but  bos  father  was  able  to.. 


send  him  to  the  fsmions  College  or  Lycte  Charlemagne, 
where  he  distinguished  himself.  He  passed  the  university 
examination  in  1821,  and  was  shortly  after  appointed  to  & 
professorship  or  rather  mastership  of  history  in  the  College 
Rollin.  Soon  after  this,  in  1824,  he  married.  The  period 
of  the  Restoration  and  the  July  monarchy  was  one  of  the 
most  favourable  to  rising  men  of  letters  of  a  somewhat 
scholastic  cast  that  has  ever  been  known  in  France,  and 
Michelet  had  powerful  patrons  in  Villemain,  Cousin,  and 
others.  But,  though  he  was  an  ardent  politician  (having 
from  his  childhood  embraced  republicanism  and  a  peculiar 
variety  of  romantic  free-thought),  he  was  first  of  all  a  man 
of  letters  and  an  inquirer  into  the  history  of  the  past. 
His  earliest  works  were  school  books,  and  they  were  not 
written  at  a  very  early  age.  Between  1825  and  1827  he 
produced  divers  sketches,  chronological  tables,  <tc.,  of 
modern  history.  His  JPrecu  of  the  subject,  published  in 
the  last-mentioned  year,  is  a  sound  and  careful  book,  far 
better  than  anything  that  had  appeared  before  it,  and 
written  in  a  sober  yet  interesting  style.  In  the  same  year 
he  was  appointed  maitre  de  conferences  at  the  ficole 
Normale.  Four  years  later,  in  1831,  the  Introduction  i 
t'Sistoire  Universelle  showed  a  very  different  style,  exhibit- 
ing no  doubt  the  idiosj-ncrasy  and  literary  power  of  the 
writer  to  greater  advantage,  but  also  displaying  the  peculiar 
visionary  qualities  which  make  Michelet  the  most  stimulat- 
ing but  the  most  untrustworthy  (not  in  facts,  which  he 
never  consciously  falsifies,  but  in  suggestion)  of  all 
historians.  The  events  of  1830  had  unmuzzled  him,  and 
had  at  the  same  time  improved  his  prospects,  and  put  him 
in  a  better  position  for  study  by  obtaining  for  him  a  place 
in  the  Record  Office,  and  a  deputy-professorship  under 
Guizot  in  the  literary  faculty  of  the  university.  Very 
soon  afterwards  he  began  his  chief  and  monumental  work, 
the  Ilistoire  de  France,  which  occupied  him  for  about  forty 
years,  and  of  which  we  shall  speak  presently.  But  he 
accompanied  this  with  numerous  other  works,  chiefly  of 
erudition,  such  as  the  CEuvres  Choisies  dc  Yico,  the  Memoiret 
de  Luther  ecrits  par  lui-meme,  the  Origines  du  Droit 
Franfais,  and  somewhat  later  the  Proces  des  Templifrt. 
1838  was  a  year  of  great  importance  in  Michelet's  life. 
He  was  in  the  fulness  of  his  powers,  his  studies  had  fed 
his  natural  aversion  to  the  principles  of  authority  and 
ecclesiasticism,  and  at  a  moment  when  the  revived  activity 
of  the  Jesuits  caused  some  real  and  more  pretended  alarm 
he  was  appointed  to  the  chair  of  history  at  the  College  de 
France.  Assisted  by  his  friend  Quinet,  he  began  a  violent 
polemic  against  the  unpopular  order  and  the  principles 
which  it  represented,  a  polemic  which  made  tieir  lectures, 
and  especially  Michelet's,  one  of  the  most  popular  resorts 
of  the  day.  He  published,  in  1839,  a  History  of  the 
Roman  Republic,  but  this  was  in  his  graver  and  earlier 
manner.  'The  Results  of  his  lectures  appeared  in  the 
volumes  Le  Pretre,  la  Femme,^t  la  Fainille  and  Le  Pevple. 
These  books  do  not  display  the  apocaljijtic  style  which, 
borrowed  to  a  certain  though  no  very  great  extent  from 
Lamennais,  characterizes  Michelet's  later  works,  but  they 
contain  jn  miniature  almost  the  whole  of  his  curious  cthico- 
politico-theological  creed — a  mixture  of  sentimentalism, 
commtmism,  and  anti-sacerdotalism,  supported  by  the  most 
eccentric  arguments,  but  urged  with  a  great  deal  of 
eloquence.  The  principles  of  the  outbreak  of  1848  were 
in  the  air,  and  Slichelet  was  not  the  least  important  of 
those  who  condensed  and  propagated  them  :  indeed  his 
original  lectures  were  of  so  incendiary  a  kind  that  the 
course  had  to  be  interdicted.  But  when  the  actual  revolu- 
tion broke  out  Michelet,  unlike  many  other  men  of  letters, 
did  not  attempt  to  enter  on  active  political  life,  and  merely 
devoted  himself  more  strenuously  to  his  literary  work. 
,  Besides  continuing  the  great  history,  he  undertook  aud 


236 


M  1  C  H  E  L  E  T 


carried  out,  during  the  years  between  the  downfall  of  LouL? 
Philippe  and  tho  {•r"^.  establishment  of  Napoleon  III.,  an 
enthusiastic  Eistoire  de  la  Revolution  Fran<;aise.  Desjiite 
or  "because  of  its  enthusiasm,  this  is  by  no  means  Michelot's 
best  book.  The  events  were  too  near  and  too  well  known, 
and  hardly  admitted  the  picturesque  sallies  into  the  blue 
distance  which  make  the  charm  and  the  danger  of  his 
larger  work.  In  actual  picturesqueness  as  well  as  in  general 
veracity  of  picture,  the  book  cannot  approach  Carlyle's ; 
while  as  a  mere  chronicle  of  the  events  it  is  inferior  to  half 
a  dozen  prosaic  histories  older  and  younger  than  itself. 
The  coup  d'etat  lost  Michelet  his  place  in  the  Eecord  Office, 
as,  though  not  in  any  way  identified  with  the  republic 
administratively,  he  refused  to  take  the  oaths  to  the 
empire.  But  the  new  regime  only  kindled  afresh  his 
republican  zeal,  and  his  second  marriage  (with  Mademoiselle 
Adele  Malairet,  a  lady  of  some  literary  capacity,  and  of 
republican  belongings)  seems  to  have  further  stimulated 
his  powers.  While  the  history  steadily  held  its  way,  a 
■crowd  of  extraordinary  little  books  accompanied  and 
diversified  it.  Sometimes'  they  were  expanded  versions  of 
its  episodes,  sometimes  what  may  be  called  commentaries 
or  companion  volumes.  In  some  of  the  best  of  them 
natural  science,  a  new  subject  with  Michelet,  to  which  his 
wife  is  believed  to  have  introduced  him,  supplies  the  text. 
The  first  of  these  (by  no  means  the  best)  was  Les  Femmes 
de  la  Revolution  (1854),  in  which  Michelet's  natural  and 
inimitable  faculty  of  dithyrambic  too  often  gives  way  to 
tedious  and  not  very  conclusive  argument  and  preaching. 
In  the  next,  L'Oiseau  (1856),  a  new  and  most  successful 
vein  was  struck.  The  subject  of  natural  history  was  treated, 
not  from  the  point  of  view  of  mere  science,  nor  from  that 
of  sentiment,  nor  of  anecdote,  nor  of  gossip,  but  from  that 
of  the  author's  fervent  democratic  pantheism,  and  the 
result,  though,  as  was  to  be  expected,  unequal,  was  often 
excellent.  L'Insecte,  in  the  same  key,  but  duller,  followed. 
It  was  succeeded  by  V Amour  (1859),  one  of  the  author's 
most  popular  books,  and  not.  unworthy  of  its  popularity, 
but  perhaps  hardly  his  best.  These  remarkable  works, 
half  pamphlets  half  moral  treatise.?,  succeeded  each  other 
as  a  rule  at  the  twelve  months'  interval,  and  the  succession 
was  almost  unbroken  for  five  or  six  years.  V Amour  was 
followed  by  La  Femme  (1860),  a  book  on  which  a  whole 
critique  of  French  literature  and  French  character  might 
be  founded.  Then  came  La  Mer  (1861),  a  return  to  the 
natural  history  class,  which,  considering  the  powers  of  the 
writer  and  the  attraction  of  the  subject,  is  perhaps  a. little 
disappointing.  The  next  year  (18C2)  the  most  striking 
of  all  Micholet's  minor  works.  La  Sorcicre,  made  its 
appearance.  Developed  out  of  an  episode  of  the  history, 
it  has  all  its  author's  peculiarities  in  the  strongest  degree. 
It  is  a  nightmare  and  nothing  more,  but  a  nightmare  of 
the  most  extraordinary  verisimilitude  and  poetical  power. 

This  remarkable  series,  every  volume  of  which  was  at 
once  a  work  of  imagination  and  of  research,  was  not  even 
yet  finished,  but  tho  later  volumes  exhibit  a  certain  fall- 
ing oS.  The  ambitious  £ible  de  rHumanite  (1864),  an 
historical  sketch  of  religions,  has  but  little  merit.  lu  La 
Montagne  (1868),  the  kst  of  tho  natural  history  series,  tho 
tricks  of  staccato  style  are  pushed  even  farther  than  by 
Victor  Hugo  in  his  less  inspired  moment.s,  though — as  is 
inevitable  in  the  hands  of  such  a  master  of  iaiiguago  as 
Michelet — tho  effect  is  frequently  grandiose  if  not  grand. 
JVoi  /"iTs  (1869),  tho  last  of  the  string  of  smaller  books 
published  during  the  author's  life,  is  a  tractate  on  educa- 
tion, written  with  ample  knowledge  of  the  facts  and  with 
all  Michelet's  usual  sweep  and  range  of  view,  but  with 
visibly  decUning  powers  of  expression.  But  in  a  book 
published  posthumously,  Le  Banquet,  these  powers  reappear 
at  their  fullest.      The  picture  of   the  indiistrious  and 


famishing  populations  of  the  Riviera  is  (■whether  trun  to 
fact  or  not)  one  of  the  best  things  that  Michelet  hij  dona. 
To  complete  the  hst  of  his  miscellaneous  works,  two  coUeo- 
tions  of  pieces,  written  and  partly  published  at  different 
times,  may  be  mentioned.  These  are  Lea  Soldats  de  la 
Revolution  and  Ligendcs  Democraiiques  du  JCord. 

The  publication  of  this  series  of  books,  and  the  comple- 
tion of  his  history,  occupied  Jlichelet  during  both  decades 
of  the  empire.  He  lived  partly  in  France,  partly  in  Italy, 
and  was  accustomed  to  spend  the  winter  on  the  Riviera, 
chiefly  at  Hyeres.  At  last,  in  1867,  the  great  work  of  hia 
life  was  finished.  As  it  is  now  published  it  fills  nineteen  ' 
volumes.  The  first  of  these  deals  with  the  early  'history 
up  to  the  death  of  Charlemagne,  tho  second  with  the 
flourishing  time  of  feudal  France,  the  third  with  the  13th 
century,  the  fourth,  fifth,  and  sixth  with  the  Hundred 
Tears'  War,  the  seventh  and  eighth  with  tho  establishment 
of  the  royal  power  under  Charles  VII.  and  Louis  XI.  The 
16th  and  17th  centuries  have  four  volumes  apiece,  much 
of  which  is  very  distantly  connected  with  French  history 
proper,  especially  in  the  two  volumes  entitled  Renaissance 
and  Riforme.  The  last  three  volumes  carry  on  the  history 
of  the  18th  century  to  the  outbreak  of  the  Revolution. 
The  characteristics  which  this  remarkable  history  shMes 
with  Michelet's  other  works  will  be  noted  presently.  Afc 
present  it  may  be  remarked  that,  as  the  mere  division  of 
subjects  and  space  would  imply,  it  is  planned  on  very 
original  principles.  Michelet  was  perhaps  the  first 
historian  to  devote  himself  to  anything  Uke  a  picturesque 
history  of  the  Middle  Ages,  and  his  account  is  still  the 
most  vivid  though  far  from  the  most  trustworthy  that 
exists.  His  inquiry  into  manuscript  and  printed  authorities 
was  most  laborious,  but  his  lively  imagination,  and  his 
strong  religious  and  political  prejudices,  made  him  regsuxl 
all  things  from  a  singularly  personal  point  of  view. 
Circumstances  which  strike  his  fancy,  or  furnish  convenient 
tests  for  his  polemic,  are  handled  at  inordinate  length, 
while  others  are  rapidly  dismissed  or  passed  over  altogether. 
Yet  the  book  is  undoubtedly  the  only  history  of  Franca 
which  bears  the  imprint  of  genius,  and  in  this  respect  it  ia 
not  soon  likely  to  meet  a  rival. 

Uncompromisingly  hostile  as  Michelet  was  to  tho  empire, 
its  downfall  and  the  accompanying  disasters  of  the  country 
once  more  stimulated  him  to  activity.  Not  only  did  he 
wi'ite  letters  and  pamphlets  during  tho  struggle,  but  when 
it  was  over  he  set  himself  to  complete  the  vast  task  which 
his  two  great  histories  had  almost  covered  by  a  History  of 
the  Kiyieteentk  Centuri/.  He  did  not,  however,  live  to  carry 
it  further  than  Waterloo,  and  the  best  criticism  of  it  is 
perhaps  contained  in  the  opening  words  of  the  introduction 
to  the  last  volume — "I'ago  me  presse."  The  new  republic 
was  not  altogether  a  restoration  for  Michelet,  and  his 
professorship  at  tho  ColliSge  de  France,  of  which  ho  con- 
tended that  he  had  never  been  properly  deprived,  was  not 
given  back  to  him.  Ho  died  at  Hyircs  on  tho  9th  of 
February  1874,  and  an  unseemly  legal  strife  between  his 
representatives  took  place  a-s  to  his  funeral. 

Tlio  literary  chamcteriatics  of  Slicliclct  ore  among  tlio  mo«t 
clonrly  marked  and  also  among  tlio  most  peculiar  in  F.rencU  litera- 
ture. A  certain  resemblance  to  Lamcnnais  has  been  already  noted, 
and  to  this  m.iy  be  added  an  occasional  reminisceneeof  the  m.tnner 
of  Bossuet,  But  i:i  the  m.iin  Michelet,  even  in  tho  minor  d.uiUof 
style,  is  quite  original  and  individual.  His  sentences  and  porjgripha 
are  .s  different  as  possible  in  construction,  and  rhythm  from  tho 
orderly  avhitecturo  of  French  classic.il  prose.  A  very  frefluent 
device  of  his  (somewhat  abused  latterly)  is  ths  omission  of  th« 
verb,  whiih  gives  the  sentence  the  air  of  a  continued  interjection. 
Elsewhere  ho  breaks  his  phr.iso,  uoi  linishing  the  repihr  clans« 
at  all  In  these  points  and  many  oihcij  tho  rcst-mblancc  to  his 
conteraporaty  Cnrlvlo  is  very  striking  ;  and,  different  as  were 
their  points  of  view,  their  manners  of  s«cing  were  by  no  moans 
unliko.  llistor)-  to  Michelet  is  always  pictureaquo;  it  is  t  •erics 
of  tiibletiis.     jilusion  hu  b;c3  a^aij  xiJo  to  tbt  aingviUr  ftf 


M  I  (J  — M  i  IJ 


237 


snective  in  wliiili  llicsctnblcaiix  aic  ilj-av.ii,  n  jKiiii^-cUirc  sn  stiango 
luat  a  reailer  iuiacq\ir.iiitc»l  with  tlie  actunl  size  nml  icl.ilioii  or  tlic 
objects  i-eprcscntcU  is  ccrtiin  to  bo  deceived.  Kotbiii;::  indeed  is 
furtlier  from  Michekt's.  jiuiposo  tliaii  deceit  AlthouRli  n  strong 
rcpubiicar.,  an  ardent  auti-sacenlotjilist,  and  a  }iatriot  of  fanatical 
entliusiasm,  be  is  alwa^'S^scnijjulously  fair  aa  far  a:>  Jic  iindci-staiids 
wbat  bo  is  doing.  Kor  instance,  Jiis  batrcJ  for  England  and 
Englislinien  is  one  of  tbe  most  comically  intense  jiassions  in  litera- 
tnro.  He  is  never  tired  of  exclaiming  ogainst  tlicir  diabolical  pride, 
tlieir  odious  jealousy  of  France,  their  calculating  covctousncss,  and 
sofurtlL  In  bis  excited  iinaj^iiwtion  the  long  drama  of  Eurojwnii 
Jiistory  is  a  kind  of  conflict  of  Ormuzd  and  Ahrinian,  in  wbicli 
Fnnicc,  it  is  needless  to  say,  I'lays  the  first  jiart  and  England  tbe 
second.  Yet  be  is  never  unfair  to  Englisb  foi-titude  and  coolness, 
never  {after  tbe  cbildisb  fashion  of  some  of  his  eouutrymcn)  slurs 
over  English  victories,  and  often  expresses  genuine  admiiTition 
(mixetl,  it  is  truc,'witb  a  shudder  or  twoof  avei-sion)  for  tbe  master- 
ful ^-ays  and  constantly  advancing  prospcjity  of  tbe  English  iKsopIe. 
So,  jvitb  all  bis  dislike  to  tbo  priestbood,  be  never  is  chary  of  praise 
to  popo  or  monk  wbeucver  it  can  fairly  be  given,  and,  with  ail  his 
rcimblicanism,  be  is  never  weary  of  woi-sbipping  tbe  heroism  of  a 
gixai  king.  But  his  jKxjtical  fashion  of  dealing  with  events,  his 
exaggeration  of  trivial  incidents  into  great  facts  of  history,  bis  fixed 
ideas,  especially  iu  reference  to  tbe  intellectual  and  social  condition 
of  media:val  times,  tbe  evils  of  which  bo  enormously  exaggei-ates, 
and  bis  abiding  prejudices  of  a  general  kind  combine  to  distort  bis 
accounts  iu  tbe  strangest  fashion.  A  laborious  person  might  pick 
out  of  contcmiwrary  authors  a  notable  collection  of  erroneous  views 
of  which  Micbelct  is  not  so  much  the  author  as  the  Buggester,  for  it 
Is  when  bis  brilliant  exaggerations  are  torn  from  their-  context  and 
set  down  in  some  quito  other  context  as  sober  gos^icl  that  they  are 
most  misleading  to  tliosc  who  do  not  know  the  facts,  and  most 
grotesque  to  tliose  who  do.  This  is  especially  the  case  in  regai-d  to 
literature.  Jlichelet  began  his  great  work  too  early  to  enjoy  the 
benefit  of  the  resunectiou  of  old  French  literature  which  has  since 
taken  idace;  and  though  his  view  of  that  litci-atui-c  partakes  of  the 
amorous  enthusiasm  v.liich  colours  bis  view  of  everything  French, 
it  is  astoundingly  incorrect  in  detail.  Tbe  most  remarkable  passage 
of  all  perhaps  is  tbe  passage  in  bis  riCnai$sancc  relating  to  Habclais, 
Ronsard,  and  Dn  Bellay,  a  passage  so  widely  inconsistent  not  only 
with  sound  critiiism  bnt  w  itb  historic  fact  that  the  autbor(a  very  rare 
thing  with  him)  makes  a  kind  of  half  apology  for  it  elsewhere.  Of 
tbo  work  of  the  age  of  chivalry  proper,  tbe  chansons  dc  gestes^  the 
Arthurian  romances,  the  early  lyi'ics  anil  dramas,  he  evidently  knew 
but  little,  and  chose  to  subordinate  what  he  did  know  to  his  general 
theories  of  the  time.  Even  nmcb  later  bis  praise  and  blame,  though 
transparently  honest,  arc  quite  haphazard.  Unless,  therefore,  the 
reader  be  gifted  with  a  very  rare  faculty  of  applying  the  "  grain  of 
salt"  to  what  he  reads,  or  unless  be  be  well  acquainted  with  ths 
actual  facts  before  coming  to  Jlicbelet's  veraion  of  them,  he  will 
almost  certainly  be  misled.  But  despite  this  grave  di-awback 
(which  attends  all  picturesque  Iiistory)  the  value  of  Micbelct  merely 
as  an  histeriau  is  immense.  Kot  only  are  his  sei>arate  tableaux, 
tlic  wonderful  geographical  sketch  of  Fi-ance  in  the  beginning  of 
tbe  book,  the  sections  devoted  to  the  Templars,  to  Joan  of  Arc,  to 
the  llenaiasaiico,  to  the  Camisards,  almost  unequalled,  but  the  in- 
spiriting and  stimulating  effect  of  bis  w-ork  is  not  to  bo  surjvissed. 
If  bis  reconstruction  is  often  hazardous  and  conjectui-al,  sometimes 
definitely  and  demonstrably  mistaken,  and  nearly  always  difficult 
to  adjust  entirely  to  the  ascertained  facts,  it  is  always  possible  in 
itself,  always  instinct  with  genius,  and  always  life-like.  There  are 
no  dead  bones  in  Slicbclet ;  tlu-y  ai-e  if  anything  only  too  stirring 
and  lively.  These  criticisms  apply  equally  to  the  minor  books, 
though  these  are  necessarily  fuller  of  the  author's  somewhat  weari- 
some propaganda,  and  less  full  of  brilliantly  painted  facts.  Tbe 
great  fault  of  .Michelet  as  of  not  a  few  other  modern  authors  is  tbe 
compai-ativcly  improvised  and  epbemcr^fl  character  of  too  much  of 
bis  work.  His  immense  volume  is,  much  of  it,  mere  brilliant 
pamphleteering,  much  more  mere  description  equally  brilliant  Cut 
equally  liable  to  pass.  Nevertheless  he  is  (especially  in  Frcndi,  the 
language  jiar  a:alUna  of  measured  and  acadenjic  )icrf6ition)  so 
characteristic  and  singular  a  figui-c  in  his  turbid  eloquence  and 
fitful  flashing  insight  that  ho  is  never  likely  to  lose  a  place,  and  a 
notable  one,  in  literary  history. 

Almost  idl  Michelet's  works,  the  exceptions  being  his  translations, 
compilations,  &c. ,  are  published  in  uniform  size  and  in  about  fifty 
volumes,  partly  by  Marpon  and  Flammarion,  partly  by  Calniann 
Levy.  (G.  SA.) 

MICHELL,  jOH\%  an  eminent  Englisli  man  of  science 
of  the  18tli  century.  He  received  his  university  education 
at  Queen's  College,  Cambridge.  His  name  appears 
fourth  in  tlife  Tripos  list  for  17-18-49  ;  and  in  1755  he  was 
moderator  in  that  examination.  He  was  a  fellow  of  his 
coUegc'and  became  successively  AVoodwardian  professor 
of  geolog)'  (in  17021  and  rector  of  Thornhill  in  Yorkshire. 


He  >vas«lected  a  member  of  the  Royal  Society  in  tho  .-(ame 
yeai  as  Henry  Cavendish  (1700).  Ho  died  in  1793.  In 
1750  he  published  at  Cambridge  a  small  work  of  soma 
eighty  pages,  entitled  A  Treatise  of  Artijicial  Magnets,  in 
which  is  eliotm  an  easy  and  ejrjyedilurus  melhud  of  luaMnff 
them  miperior  to  the  Oest  natural  mies.  Besides  the  descrip- 
tion of  the  method  of  magnetization  which  still  bears  his 
name,  this  work  contains  a  variety  of  acute  and  accurate 
magnetic  observations,  and  is  particularly  distinguished  by 
a  lucid  exposition  of  the  nature  of  magnetic  induction. 
He  is  now  best  kuowu  as  the  original  inventor  of  the  torsion 
balance,  wliicli  afterwards  became  so  famous  in  the  hands 
of  its  second  inventor  Coulomb.  Midiell  described  it  iu 
his  proposal  of  a  method  for  obtaining  the  mean  density 
of  the  earth.  He  did  not  live  to  put  his  method  iato 
practice ;  but  this  was  done  by  Henry  Cavendish,  who 
made,  by  means  of  Jlichell's  ap[)aratus,  the  celebrated 
determination  that  now  goes  by  the  name  of  Cavendish's 
experiment  {PhiJ.  Trans.,  1798). 

ilicbeirs  other  contributions  to  science  are — "  Conjectures  con- 
cerning tbe  Cause  and  Observations  ujion  tbe  rbcjiomena  of  Earth- 
3uakes,"  Phil.  Trai's.,  17G0  ;  "Observations  on  the  Comet  oC 
anuary  1760  at  Cambi-idge,'' /&.,  17C0  ;  "A  Bcconimendation  oT 
Hadlcy's  Quadrant  for  Surveying,"  10.,  1765  ;  "  ri-oposal  of  a 
Method  for  measuring  Degrees  of  Longitude  upon  rar.allels  Of  tbo 
Equatoi","  76.,  17C6  ;  "An  InquiiT  into  the  Probable  Parallax  and 
llaguitudeof  the  Fi.xed  Stars,'  11.,  1767  ;  "  On  the  Twinkling  of 
the  Fixed  Stars,"  It/.,  1767  ;  "On  tbe  Means  of  Discovering  the 
Distance,  Magnitude,  kc,  of  the  Fixed  Stars,"  lb.,  1784. 

MICHELOZZI,  MicHZLOzzo  (1391-U72?),  was  a 
Florentine  by  birth,  the  son  of  a  tailor,  and  in  early  life  a 
pupil  of  Donatello.  He  was  a  sculptor  of  some  ability  in 
marble,  bronze,  and  silver.  The  statue  of  the  young 
Sb  John  over  the  door  of  the  Duomo  at  Florence,  opposite 
the  Baptistery,  is  by  him  ;  and  he  also  made  the  beautiful 
silver  statuette  of  the  Baptist  on  the  altar-frontal  of  San 
Ciovanni.  Michelozzi's  great  friend  and  jjatron  was  Cosimo 
I.  dei  Medici,  whom  he  accompanied  to  Venice  in  1433 
during  his  short  exile.  AMiile  at  Venice,  Michelozzi  built 
the  library  of  San  Giorgio  Jlaggiore,  and  designed  other 
buildings  there.  The  magnificent  Palazzo  dei  Medici  at 
Florence,  built  by  Cosimo,  was  designed  by  him  ;  it  is  one 
of  the  noblest  si)ccimens  of  Italian  15th-century  architec- 
ture, in  which  the  great  taste  and  skill  of  the  architect  has 
combined  the  delicate  lightness  of  the  earlier  Italian  Gothic 
with  the  massive  stateliness  of  the  Classical  style.  With 
great  engineering  skill  Michelozzi  shored  up,  and  partlj* 
rebuilt,  the  Palazzo  Vecchio,  then  in  a  ruinous  condition, 
and  added  to  it  many  imixjrtant  rooms  and  staircases. 
AMien,  in  1437,  through  Cosimo's  hberality,  the  monastery 
of  San  Marco  at  Florence  was  handed  over  to  the  Dominicans 
of  Fiesole,  Michelozzi  was  employed  to  rebuild  the  domestic 
part  and  remodel  the  church.  For  Cosimo  I.  he  designed 
numerous  other  buildings,  mostly  of  great  beauty  and 
importance.  Among  these  were  a  guest-house  at  Jerusalem, 
for  tlie  use  of  Florentine  pilgrims,  Cosimo's  summer  villa 
at  Careggi,  and  the  strongly  fortified  palace  of  Cafagiuolo 
in  Mugello.  For  Giovanni  dei  Medici,  Cosimo's  son,  he 
built  a  very  large  .and  magnificent  palace  at  Fiesole.  Iu 
spite  of  Vasari's  statement  that  he  died  at  the  age  of 
sixty-eight,  he  appears  to  have  lived  till  1472.  He  is 
buried  in  tho  monastery  of  San  JIarco,  Florence.  Though 
skilled  both  as  a  sculptor  and  engineer,  his  fame  chiefly 
rests  on  his  architectural  works,  which  claim  for  him  a 
position  of  very  high  honour  even  among  the  greatest  names 
of  the  great  15th-century  Florentines. 

MICHIGAN,  one  of  the  States  of  the  American  Union,  Plate  I^ 
situated  in  the  region  of  the  great  lakes.  It  lies  between 
41°  42'  and  47°  32'  N.  lat,  and  82°  24'  and  90°  31'  W. 
long.,  the  centre  of  the  State  being  670  miles  norti  of  west 
from  New  York,  the  nearest  point  on  the  seaboard.  The 
area  is  58.915  square  miles.     The  State  consists  of  two 


238 


MICHIGAN 


nat'jral  divisions,  known  as  tlie  Upper  and  tlio  Lower 
peninsula.  Tho  Upper  or  Northern  Peninsula  is  bounded 
on  the  N.,  E.,  and  S.  by  Lakes  Siiperior,  Huron,  and 
Michigan,  and  on  the  W.  by  the  river  St  Mary  and  the 
State  of  Wisconsin.  The  Lower  Peninsula  is  bounded  on 
the  W.,  N.,  and  E.  by  Lakes  Michigan,  Huron,  St  Clair, 
and  Erie,  and  the  St  Clair  and  Detroit  rivers,  and  on  the 
S.  by  the  States  of  Ohjo  and  Indiana.  The  general  contour 
of  the  Lower  Peninsula  approaches  that  of  a  horse-shoe, 
with  an  average  width  of  about  200  miles  from  east  to 
-.vest  and  a  lenplit  oi  about  300  miles  from  north  to  south. 
l\j.  surface  gradurlly  rises  ir.  gentle  undulations  from  the 
r.'j:rounding  iaktb  to  an  elevai  ion  of  about  400  feet  above 
I  cie  Huron,  no  point  reacl/ing  an  altitude  of  more  than 
600  feet.  The  Upper  Peninsula  is  much  more  rugged  in 
coutour  and  surface,  at  some  points  reaching  an.  elevation 
of  about  1100  feet.  The  territory  was  originally  covered 
with  forests,  with  only  here  and  there  a  small  open  prairie. 
It  dbotrnds  in  fine  inland  lakes,  with  areas  varying  from 
a  few  acres  to  several  miles.  The  rivers  are  not  large 
enough  to  be  navigable,  but  they  afford  ample  v/ater-power, 
and  are  particularly  valuable  for  floating  down  the  log-?  of 
the  lumbering  districts.  The  coast-Une  of  the  State  is  not 
le.ss  than  about  1600  miles  in  length ;  and  along  the  whole 
of  this  distance  vessels  of  2000  tons  mUy  ,  pass  without 
losing  sight  of  land. 

Geological  Formation. — The  Lower  Peninsula~occTtpies 
the  central  part  of  a  great  basin,  the  borders  of  which 
extend  to  the  east  as  far  as  London,  Ontario,  and  to  the 
west  as  far  as  Madison,  Wisconsin.  Within  these  limits' 
the  traveller  starting  in  any  direction  from  the  centre  of 
the  State  encounters  successively  the  outcropping  edges 
of  older  and  older  strata.  The  whole  series  has  been 
iiiened  to  a  nest  of  wooden  dishes ;  it  embraces  not 
only  the  Laurentian  and  Huronian  systems  but  also 
the  numerous  groups  that  go  to  make  up  the  SUufian, 
ttie  Devonian,  the  Carboniferous,  and  the  Quaternary 
systems.  These  several  formations  are  covered  almost 
oiiiversally  with  a  drift  of  finely  comminuted  and  triturated 
rock,,,  borne  thither  by  moving  glaciers  and  floating 
icebergs,  or  washed  to  its  present  position  by  currents 
of  water,  while  the  surface  was  still  submerged.  This 
loose  material  varies  in  thickness,  sonietimes  extending  to 
a  depth  Of  200  or  300  feet.  '^Tiile  the  lower  formations 
contain  almost  inexhaustible  deposits  of  copper,  iron, 
gypsum,  and  salt,  the  surface  soil  is  pre-eminently  fertile, 
uniting  aU  the  mineral  constituents  necessary  for  the  most 
luxuriant  growth  of  plants.''  There  are  limited  areas  of 
light  and  somewhat  sterile  drift  soil;  but  even  these 
have  shown  themselves  under  proper  treatment  to  be 
capable  of  yielding  a  rich .  vegetatioin.  For  the  most 
part  the  drift  soil  i3  composed  of  a,  mixture  of  clay 
with  sand  and  gravel.  It  is  easily  cuiJtivated,  is  retentive 
of  moisture,  and  is  sufficiently  porous  to  prevent  the  injury 
of  crops  by  excessive  rains.  '\ 

Climate  and  Natural  Products. — The  mean  temperature 
of  Lansing,  the  capital  of  the  State,  as  determined  by 
ob.servations  extending  through  eighteen  years,  is  46°'7I- 
Fahr.,  or  about  the  same  as  that-  of  Berlin.  During  the 
summer  months  the  mean  temperature  is  nearly  the  same  as 
that  of  Vienna ;  in  the  winter  it  is  nearly  that  of  Stockholm." 
The  annual  rainfall  during  the  eighteen  years  previous  to 
.1382  was  about  31  inches.  This  is  very  evenly  distributed 
■i .  •oughout  the  year,  though  a  little  more  than  half  the 
Avaount  falls  in  the  five  months  from  May  to  October. 
Tha  eTe»a.ge  snowfall  in  the  centre  of  the  State  is  about  4 
f  sat,  thoii.gh  it  is  seldom  that  more  than  1 2  inches  lie  on  the. 
{.Tound  r.t  any  one  time.  The  winter  temperature  is  much 
modified  by  the  open  water  of  the  aJjaceat  lakes  The 
.  BBvere  wiuda  ar3  commonly  from  the  west  and  nprtij-west ; 


but  in  sweeping  across  the  open  waters  of  Lake  Midugftft 
they  are  so  far' softened  as  to' make  the  climate  much 
milder  than  that  found  in  the  same  latitude  on  the  western 
side  of  the  lake.  •  This  pecuharity  is  specially  favourable  to 
the  growth  of  fruits.  ■  Peaches  are  grown  successfully  along 
the  45th  parallel,  and  figs  thrive  in  the  open  air  in  lat.  42J*. 
The  modifying  influence  of  the  lake  winds  also  gives  great 
variety  to  the  flora.  The  predominant  woods  are  oak,  maple, 
beech,  elm,  ash,  cherry,  hickory,  walnut,  basswood,  and  pine. 
All  these  grow  luxuriantly  in  the  vast  forests  of  the  State, 
and  afford  an  abundant  supply  of  the  best  timber.  There  are 
1G5  species  of  trees  and  shrubs  indigenous  to  Michigan; 
and  the  entire  flora  of  .the  State_makes  a  list  of  1634 
species. 

Cereals  and  Fruits.- — The  most  important  cropof  Michigan- 
is  wheat,  and  the  average  jntld  per  acre,  as  shown  by  ths 
latest  census,  is  greater  than  that  of  any  other  State  in  the 
Union.  The  acres  sown  in  1879  were  reported  as  1,822,749, 
and  the  amount  produced  as  35,532,543  bushels,  i  These 
figures  show  that  Michigan  is  fourth  in  rank  of  the  wheat- 
producing  States,  the  number  of  bushels  grown'  being 
exceeded  by  the  crops  of  Illinois,  Ohio,  and  Indiana.  In 
1879  the  j-ield  in  bushels  of  the  other  principal  cereals  in 
shovm  by  the  following  figures  : — Indian  com,  32,461,452  j 
oats,  18,190,793;  barley,  1,204,316;  rye,  294,918;  buck- 
wheat, 413,062;  clover  seed,  31.3,063;  pease,  538,332. 
The  crop  of  potatoes  in  the  same  year  was  8,025,475 
bushels,  and  the  hay  amounted  to  1,051,115  tons.  Of 
the  fruits  grown  in  the  State  apples  are  the  most  important, 
and  these  are  believed  to  be  unsurpassed  in  excellence  i» 
any  country  in  the  world.  The  sales  in  18S0  were 
4,834,936  bushels,  a  considerable  qiiantity  going  to  the 
markets  of  Europe.  Next  in  importance  is  the  peach  crop, 
annually  gathered  from  more  than  fifty  of  the  counties  of 
the  State.  In  1880  the  peach  orchards  were  reported  .as 
covering  12,908  icres,  and  the  fruit  sold  as  amounting  to 
413,418  bushels.  •;  The  long  coast-line  of  Lake  Michigan 
affords  easy  access  to  market  even  for  the  most  perishable 
fruits.  ■  Besides  the  facilities  thus  afforded,  the  railroad* 
that  now  thread^the  State,  with  an  aggiegate  length  in 
March  1882  of  ^43.'?2,mile.9,  afford  abundant  means  of 
rapid  transportation.  As  the  fruit  belt  extends  from  north 
to  south  more  than  200  miles,  the  danger  of  disastrous 
competition  in  the  niarkets  is  obviated  by  prolongation  of 
the  season  of  ripening.  At  the  meeting  of  the  State 
Horticultural  Society  held  in  1881  it  was  reported  that 
the  average  value  of  the  peach  crop  per  acre  vs-as  above 
$125.  r-  The  ten  volumes  of  the  Transactions  of  the  State 
Horticultural  Society  published  since  its  organisation  in 
1670  show  that  the  development  of  fruit  culture  within 
the  last  decade  has  been  much  more  rapid  than  in  any 
other  State. 

Lumber. — The  timber  produce  in  ^ndiigan  is  of  superior 
quality,  and  the  amount  is  so  great  that  about  two-thirda 
tif  the  best  lumber^  sold  in  New  York,  Philadelphia,  and 
Boston  go  out  from  its  mills.  The  log?  are  borne  along 
the  lakes,  rivers,  and  small  watercourses  to  the  booms  of 
mills  situated  at  convenient  ijoints,  where  the  lumber  is 
isawed  and  shipped  for  the  different  markets  of  the  world. 
Of  these  manufacturing  districts  those  kjiown  as  the 
Saginaw,  the  Grand  River,  and  the  Muskegon  valleys  are 
the  most  important. '  The  Saginaw  receives  the  waters  of 
the  Tittabawasse,  the  Cass,  the  Flint,  the  Shiaw-assc,  the 
Bad,  the  Pine,  tTio  Chippewa,  the  Tobacco,  and  their 
numerous  tributaries,  draining  a  vast,rcgion  that  still  yields 
an  undiminished  supply  of  piws.  The  foresU  of  the  western 
parts  of  the  State  are  easily  accessible  by  the  Grand  River 
and  its  tributaries,  while  those  still  farther  iicrtli  find  a 
natural  outlet  through  the  numcrdts  streams  iLit  flv:/winto 
Lake  Michigan.    On  the  iSinks  of  these  watercourses  are 


MICHIGAN 


239 


some  of  the  largest  and  finest  mills  of  the  world.  In  1854, 
when  the  first  effort  was  made  to  collect  statistics  of  this 
industry,  it  was  found  that  there  were  only  sixty-one  mills 
in  operation,  and  that  the  entire  annual  product  was  only 
108,000,000  feet.  Eighteen  years  later,  in  1872,  it  was 
estimated  that  the  annual  product  was  i)ot  less  than 
2,560,000  feet  of  oak,  12,700,000  of  staves,  300,000,000 
lath,  400,000,000  shingles,  and  2,500,000,000  of  sawed 
pine.  The  number  of  saw-mills  had  already  reached  about 
1500,  the  number  of  persons  employed  20,000,  and  the 
capital  represented  S35,000,000.  In  1881  the  manufacture 
of  pine  lumber  amounted  to  3,919,500,000  feet,  the  value 
of  which 'exceeded  $60,000,000.  The  aggregate  value  of 
the  forest  products  of  the  State  was  estimated  in  1881 
to  have  reached  more  than  §1,000,000,000.  Forestry 
BuUelin,  No.  6,  issued  December  1,  1881,  estimated  the 
amount  of  standing  white  pine  of  merchantable  quality  at 
35,000,000,000  feet,  and  the  amount  of  standing  hard 
wood  at  700,000,000  cords.  Besides  these  amounts,  the 
same  authority  estimates  the  amount  of  hemlock  at 
7,000,000,000  feet,  with  7,000,000  cords  of  bark,  and  an 
aggregate  of  70,000,000  of  cedar  and  tamarack.  It  is 
probable  that  before  many  years  the  hard  wood  ptoduced 
by  the  State  will  approach  in  value  the  figures  representing 
the  value  of  the  pine  now  sent  to  the  markets  of  the  world. 
It  is  probable  that  Michigan  for  many  years  to  come  will 
maintain  its  precedence  as  a  lumber-producing  State. 

Mhieral  Resources. — Of  the  mineral  products  of  Michigan 
the  most  important  is  iron.  As  early  as  1842  the  report 
of  the  first  State  geologist,  Dr  Douglas  Houghton,  called 
attention  to  the  presence  of  haematite  ore,  though  for  a 
considerable  time  after  this  it  was  not  found  in  such 
ouantitibs  as  to  make  it  certain  that  mining  could  be  made 
profitable.  Before  1860,  however,  it  became  known  that 
iron  in  the  Upper  Peninsula  not  only  existed  in  vast 
rjuantities,  but  also  that  it  was  of  superior  quality.  From 
that  time  iron-mines  were  rapidly  developed,  until  in 
1881  they  had  come  to  exceed  in  value,  though  not  in 
amount,  even  the  products  of  Pennsylvania.  In  1880 
the  product  was  1,834,712  tons,  with  a  value  at  the  mines 
of  §6,034,648,  as  against  the  yield  in  Pennsylvania  of 
2,185,675  tons,  with  a  value  of  §5,517,079.  The  product 
of  Michigan  in  1882  was  2,948,307  tons  of  ore,  with  a 
market  value  of  about  $25,600,000.  The  ilichigan 
minerals  are  of  extraordinary  richness, — 62'9  per  cent, 
being  the  average  of  the  first^dass  ores,  while  the  furnace 
books  often  show  a  much  higher  yield. 

Next  in  importance  to  the  iron-mines  are  those  of  copper. 
These  are  also  situated  in  the  Northern  Peninsula,  in  the 
mountain  range  of  trappean  rocks  which  crown  tlie  point 
of  land  extending  northwards  into  Lake  Superior.  Tliis 
secondary  peninsula  or  cape,  known  as  Keweenaw  Point, 
rises  to  an  average  height  of  about  600  feel,  above  the  lake, 
the  highest  pinnacles  reaching  nearly  double  that  altitude. 
This  point  contains  what  are  believed  to  be  the  richest 
copper-mines  ever  discovered ;  the  metal  is  not  found  as 
an  ore,  but  as  virgin  copper  almost  chemically  pure.  It 
has  only  to  be  separated  from  its  rocky  matrix,  when  it  is 
ready  for  the  market.  The  largest  of  the  copiier-mines, 
tliat  at  Calumet,  has  built  up  an  industry  whicli  employs 
2000  men,  and  its  total  product  of  refined  copper  in  1S82 
was  no  less  than  50,770,719  lb,  or  one-eighth  of  the 
annual  production  of  copper  in  the  world.  In  quality  the 
copper  of  the  Lafie  Superior  district  ia^  such  that  it  com- 
mands the  highest  price  at  home  and  abroad.  Its  tenacity 
is  remarkable,  and  therefore  it  is  eagerly  sought  after  for 
cartridges  by  all  the  great  military  poweA.  In  1882  the 
copper-mines  paid  dividends  amounting  to  $2,900,000, — 
maiing  an  aggregate  of  $28,248,000  since  they  were  \jp 
opened.  't^ 


Within  a  few  years  the  salt-works  of  Michigan  have  also 
come  to  exceed  those  of  any  other  State  in  the  Union. 
The  first  well  was  sunk  in  1859-60,  but  in  1882- the  pro- 
duction was  found  to  have  exceeded  that  of  the  famous 
works  in  New  York,  and  to  have  amounted  in  that  year 
to  no  less  than  3,204,921  barrels.  The  extraordinary 
development  of  this  industry  is  due  to  several  causes.  A 
careful  system  of  inspection  by  State  authority  has  kept 
its  salt  unsurpassed  in  purity.  The  salt  basin  is  not  only 
accessible  by  navigable  waters,  so  as  to  have  the  advantage 
of  cheap  transportation,  but  the  welLs  are  situated  in  the 
great  lumber-producing  districts,  and  the  manufacture  is 
thus  carried  on  at  very  small  expense,  in  connexion 
with  the  saw-mills.  The  power  is  furnished  by  the  same 
engines,  the  exhausted  steam  is  used  for  the  evaporation 
of  brine  during  the  day,  and  during  the  night  evapora- 
tion is  still  carried  on  by  means  of  refuse  wood  and  saw- 
dust, while  the  staves  for  barrels  are  made  from  rejected 
timber.  By  this  system  the  best  quality  of  salt  is  obtained 
at  a  minimum  expense.  The  chief  reservoir  of  salt  is  the. 
series  of  sandstones  and  shales  constituting  the  Waverly 
group.  This  salt-producing  rock  covers  no  less  than  about 
8000  square  miles,  and  it  is  safe  to  presume  that  the  supply 
is  inexhaustible.  The  average  depth  of  the  w4Us  is  about 
800  feet,  but  in  some  localities  wells  sunk  to  nearly  2000 
feet  have  been  remunerative.  Important  salt-works  have 
recently  been  developed  in  the  western  part  of  the  State. 

There  are  also  certain  other  minerals  of  considerable 
importance.  Deposits  of  gypsum,  easily  accessible,  prac- 
tically inexhaustible  in  quantity,  and  superior  in  quality, 
are  found  in  several  localities  both  in  the  eastern  and  in 
the  western  parts  of  the  Lower  Peninsula.  In  the  outskirts 
of  Grand  Rapids  the  deposit  crops  out  at  the  surface,  and  at 
an  average  depth  of  from  40  to  70  feet  extends  over  an 
area  of  1 0  or  12  square  miles.  The  rock  is  easily  quarried, 
and  is  either  ground  for  use  as  a  fertilizer  or  calcined  into 
plaster  of  Paris.  The  deposits  of  coal  are  supposed ,  to 
cover  about  8000  square  miles,  but  as  yet  the  product 
at  any  one  point  has  not  been  very  considerable.  In 
quality  the  coal  is  highly  bituminous,  and  is  not  sulficiently 
pure  to  be  useful  for  smelting  or  for  the  manufacture  of 
gas.  For  these  reasons  the  stock  of  coal  in  the  State  is 
practically  untouched.  If  future  explorations  and  experi- 
ments should  make  these  'ieposits  available,  a  new  era  in 
the  manufacture  of  iron  will  be  the  result.  At  present 
the  coal  for  smelting  the  Lake  Superior  ores  is  brought 
chiefly  from  Ohio  and  Pennsylvania.  Quarries  of  lime- 
stone and  of  sandstone  have  been  opened  in  various  parts 
of  the  State.  ^  The  brown  stone  of  the  Upper  Peninsula  is 
of  excellent  quality,  and  is  cajiable  of  receiving  a  high 
finish.  The  supply  is  inexhaustible,  and  the  accessibility 
of  the  quarries  by  water  gives  promise  of  a  thriving 
industry.  The  grindstones  taken  from  the  Huron  county 
quarries  are  of  superior  quality,  and  the  slates  found  in 
unlimited  quantities  on  the  shores  of  the  Huron  Bay  are 
unsurpassed  in  point  of  durability  and  colour.  Clays  and 
sands  of  commercial  value  are  found  in  great  abundance. 
Though  the  manufacture  of  glass  is  yet  in  its  infancy, 
sands  in  large  quantities  have  been  discovered  in  Monroe 
county  suitable  for  the  manufacture  of  plate  glass  of  excel- 
lent quality.  jjBrick  and  tile  clays  are  found  in  all  parts  of 
the  State.  Though  native  silver  has  been  found  in  small 
quantities  in  the  Upper  Peninsula,  the  systematic  mining 
of  this  metal  has  not  yet  been  carried  on  with  successful 
results.  The  Report  of  the  commissioner  of  mineral 
statistics  for  1882  shows  that,  except  as  to  coal, -Alicliigaii 
is  the  foremost  of  all  the  States  in  mineral  w^th. 


Fisheries. — Tlie  gooRraiiliical  position  of  Jlicliigan  fcplains  tV.i; 
ct  that  its  frcsh-w.Ttcr  fisheries  are  the  most  productive  ia  OuO 
ui'ed  States.     Tlie  most  iiuuoitout  vai'ii.ties  uf  &sh  are  lakc-twut. 


240 


MICHIGAN 


sturgeon,  bass,  pictorC),  Lornng.  6rook-tTont.  prnylinj;,  and  wliitc- 
fish.  Ocncnil  laws  for  the  protection  of  fish  have  been  passed ;  ami 
a  fish  commission  haa  been  maintiiDcd  for  some  years  for  the 
purpose  of  propagating  the  best  varieties  and  plunting  them  in 
wfttei-3  ailapteii  to  their  naturnl  development.  Up  to  tlio  close  of 
1880  tJie  commissioners  had  planted  about  80,000,000  young  white- 
!ish,  1,000,000  silver  eels,  1,000,000  lake-trout,  2,000,000  salmon, 
and  500,000  brook-trout,  besides  smaller  numbers  of  shad,  grayling, 
pike,  and  bass.  Excellent  results  have  followed,  especially  in  the 
multiplication  of  white-fish,  salmon,  and  eels.  In  1879  the  tntul 
"lake"  was  24,013,100  lb,  of  which  12,902,250  lb  were  white-lish, 
tho  most  valuable  lake-fish  known  to  epicures  and  to  commerce. 
During  winter  large  quantities  preserved  by  freezing  ore  taken  to 
Eastern  markets,  where  they  are  readily  sold  at  a  high  price. 

Ethicationnl  Institutions. — As  early  as  1785  the  law  of  congiess 
which  provided  for  the  sale  of  lands  north  of  the  Ohio  river  reserved 
for  the  support  of  public  schools  "section  16"  of  each  township. 
This  fundamental  law  devoted  to  educational  purposes  one-thirty- 
sixth  of  all  the  lands  of  that  vast  domain  known  aa  the  north- 
western territor}'.  The  "ordinance  of  1/87,"  by  which  this 
teiTitory  was  or^'anized,  further  provided  that  "schools  and  the 
means  of  education  shall  for  ever  be  encouraged,"  In  1S26  this 
eoDgressional  action  was  supplemented  by  a  grant  to  Michigan  of 
two  townships  of  land  for  the  founding  and  support  of  a  university. 
When  llichigan  became  a  State  in  1837,  its  educational  policy  took 
definite  form.  The  constitution  provided,  not  only  that  the  grant 
of  "section  16"  should  be  devoted  exclusively  to  the  supjwrt  of 
schools  of  the  primary  grad^,  but  also  that  the  State  and  not  each 
township  should  be  the  custodian  of  the  lands  so  appropriated. 
Tlie  constitution  expressly  provided  that  the  proceeds  from  the 
said  of  "school  lands''  should  be  held  by  the  State  as  a  perpetual 
fund,  the  interest  of  which  should  be  annually  applied  to  the  sup- 
port of  primary  schools.  The  lands  devoted  to  school  purposes  in 
Michigan  under  these  provisions  amounted  to  1,077,209  acres,  of 
which,  in  September  1881,  675,000  acres  had  been  sold.  On  the 
sum  realized  by  these  sales,  $3,095,679,  the  State  pays  interest  at 
7  per  cent.,  and  the  resulting  income,  amounting  to  $216,645,  is 
annually  distributed  to  the  scliools.  This  source  is  supplemented 
from  local  taxes,  so  that  in  1881  the  total  sum  realized  from  a'l 
sources  for  the  primary  schools  was  $3,644,778. 

Th6  schools  organized  under  State  law  arc  known  as  graded  and 
nngradeil.  In  the  small  districts  where  the  schools  are  under  the 
charge  of  but  one  or  two  teachers,  grading  is  impracticable.  Of 
ungraded  districts  there  were  in  1881  6120,  attended  by  219,570 
children,  while  the  graded  schools  were  404  in  number,  with  au 
attendance  of  152,043.  The  school  census  includes  all  children 
between  the  agesof  five  and  twenty,  amounting  in  1881  to  518,317,  of 
whom  there  was  an  average  attendance  of  391,401.  To  all  children 
of  school  age  the  public  schools  arc  free,  though  a  fee  may  be  re- 
quired for  advanced  studies  in  the  high  schools.  The  immediate 
administration  of  the  schools  is  entnisted  to  school  officers  elected 
annually  by  the  tax-payers  of  the  individual  districts.  The  State 
constitution  requires  that  a  free  school  shall  be  in  session  at  least 
three  months  of  every  year  in  each  district.  In  districts  of  more 
than  30  and  less  than  SOO  children,  the  law  rcouires  at  least  five 
months  of  school ;  while  in  districts  of  more  than  SOO  children, 
the  session  must  be  not  less  than  nine  months  in  length.  In  the 
graded  schools  the  division  is  into  primary  schools,  grammar  schools, 
and  hi^h  schools,  each  of  these  divisions  retaining  the  scholar 
ordinarily  four  years.  At  the  end  of  the  course  the  student  is  ready 
for  the  university,  to  which,  under  certain  restrictions  provided  by 
tho  luiiversity  itself,  he  is  admitted  on  diploma  from  the  high 
Hchool.  The  uAiversity  of  Michigan,  situated  at  Ann  Arbor,  was 
first  opened  for  insti-uction  in  1841.  It  now  (1883)  consists  of  the 
department  of  literature,  science,  and  the  arts,  the  department 
of  medicine,  tht  department  of  law,  the  college  of  homoeopathic 
medicine,  the  school  of  pharmacy,  the  college  of  dental  surgery, 
and  tho  school  of  politicnl  science.  Connected  with  the  medical 
departments  are  the  State  hospitals.  In  1881-82  there  were  86 
officers  of  instruction  and  1534  students.  The  total  income  for  the 
year  1879-80  from  Federal  grant,  State  grants,  and  foes  \va3 
$231,339.  The  general  control  of  the  university  is  placed  in  the 
hands  of  eight  regents  elected  by  popular  sufTrage  at  tho  biennial 
spring  elei'tious,  two  regents  being  chosen  at  each  election.  Tho 
normal  school,  situated  at  Ypsilanti,  and  generously  supported  by 
tho  State,  may  be  said  to  complete  the  school  sjstem. 

Charitable  and  Jxc/ormatory  InstitiUions. — A  school  for  the  dcnf, 
dumb,  and  blind,  instituted  under  an  Act  pa.ssed  in  1848,  is  situated 
at  Flint,  about  60  miles  north-west  of  Detroit ;  in  February  1882  it 
had  249  pupils.  In  1879  a  distinct  school  for  the  training  of  tho 
blind  was  established  nt  Lansing.  Tho  "  State  public  school  for 
dependent  and  neglected  children"  is  devoted  to  the  systematic 
education  of  such  cnildrcn  as  otherwise  would  have  to  bo  maintained 
in  the  county  poorhouscs.  The  pupils  are  divided  into  "families" 
of  about  thirty  cacli,  and  arc  cared  for  in  separate  cottages,  each 
cottii'^c  being  under  the  charge  of  a  "onttiigc  malinger."  Thn 
school  receives  dependent  children  of  sound  health,  and  free  from 


contagious  disease  ;  and  it  is  made  the  aory  of  tho  officers  having 

charge  of  tho  poor  to  send  all  such  cliildr^n  between  the  ageh  (.! 
three  aiid  twelve  to  it.  Tliis  institution,  the  pioneer  of  ita  kind, 
and  one  of  the  most  useful  of  charitable  schools,  is  situated  at  Cold- 
water,  132  miloa  south-west  of  Detroit  In  February  1882  there 
were  320  children  and  21  officers  and  teachers.  The  "Ileform 
School"  at  Lansing  is  desigutd  to  ret^Iaini  juvenile  ofifendcrs  who 
have  been  convicted  of  some  olfence.  A  farm  of  224  acres  connected 
with  the  school  is,  in  considerabio  part,  tilled  by  tho  boys.  Tho 
number  of  inmates  in  February  of  1882  was  325.  A  similar  school 
at  Adrian  has  recently  betn  iiislituttd  for  girls.  There  are  State 
asylums  for  the  insane  at  Kalamazoo  (715  patients)  and  Pontiac 
(499  patients).  The  legislature  of  1S81  provided  for  tho  establish- 
nient  of  an  additional  asylum  in  one  of  tho  northern  counties  of  the 
Lower  Peninsula. 

Populaiioyt.  —  ln  1837  tho  State  had  174,647  inhabitants.  The 
numbers  according  to  the  different  census  returns  from  1840  are 
given  in  the  foUou-ing  table  ; — 


Ceiisoa, 

TolaJ. 

Malts. 

Fcmalca 

Densliy  per     1 
S<iuure  Mllr.    | 

1840 
1850 
1S60 
1870 
IS80 

!I2,2C7 

897,CM 

749,113 

1,164.050 

l,63(i,U37 

113.7SS 
603.807 
304,  CM 
617.745 
bCi,67S 

98.479 
167.757 
3&4.419 

774,240 

3-T7 
7-07 
1!U 
SOOl 
17  80 

At  the  last  census  388,508  of  the  inhabitants  were  of  foreign  birtli, 
97,346  being  natives  of  the  UDiteJ  Kingduiu,  89,086  Germans,  and 
16,445  Scandinavians.  In  point  of  population  the  State,  which 
was  twenty-third  in  1840,  now  stands  ninth  in  the  Union. 

The  following  are  the  principal  cities  iu  the  State,  with  popu- 
lation at  the  censmof  1880:— Detroit,  116,340;  Grand  Rapids  Citv, 
32,016  ;  Bay  City,  20,693  ;  East  Saginaw  City,  19,016  ;  Jackson 
City,  16,105;  Muskegon  City,  11,262  ;  SaginawCity,  10,525  ;  Port 
Huron,  8383;  Flint  City,  8410;  Lansing  (the  State  capiial), 
8319  ;  Ann  Arbor,  8061  ;  Adrian  City,  7849;  Battle  Creek,  7063; 
Manistee,  6930;  West  Bay  City,  6397;  Alpena  City,  6153- 
Ishpcmiug,  6039. 

History  and  Government. — The  State  of  Michigan  is  part  of  the 
territory  that  was  first  settled  by  the  French,  and  until  the  fall  of 
Canada  into  the  hands  of  the  British  after  the  middle  of  the  ISth 
century  was  under  the  government  of  New  France.  The  territory 
was  explored  by  Jesuit  missionaries  in  tho  17th  century  ;  but, 
although  it  was  known  at  an  early  period  that  the  lands  were 
of  exceptional  excellence,  very  little  progress  was  made  in  develop- 
ing the  resources  of  the  territory  untu  after  tho  completion  of 
the  first  half-century  of  the  American  Union.  Tho  surveyors 
employed  by  tho  general  government  to  inspect  tho  lauds  and 
report  as  to  their  titness  for  yeltlement  by  the  soldiers  of  the  war 
of  1812  appear  to  have  derived  their  impressions  almost  exclusively 
from  the  low  lands  in  the  south-eastern  comer  of  the  territory.  The 
report,  accordingly,  was  not  favourable  ;  and  consequently  the  tide 
of  immigration  that  had  already  begun  to  set  in  llovved  steadily 
past  Jli-higan  into  the  territories  fartlier  west.  It  w.is  largely  for 
this  reason  that  tho  early  development  of  Indiana,  lllinoi.s,  low.i, 
and  Wisconsin  was  somewhat  more  rapid  than  that  of  ilichigan. 
But  gradually  the  false  impressions  concerning  the  soil  and  climate 
were  dispelled  ;  and  within  tho  past  few  vears  the  iucrease  of  the 
population  and  the  growth  of  wealth  liavc  been  very  rapid. 
In  1851  the  valuation  of  the  State  for  purposes  of  taxation  (which 
excludes  much  v.-iluable  jiroperty)  was  830,976,270;  in  1861, 
8172,055,808;  in  1871,  $630,000,000;  at  1881,  $810,000,000. 
Tho  State  constitution,  adopted  in  1837  at  thctimeof  admission 
to  tho  Union,  has  boon  modified  in  some  minor  particnloi-s  ;  but  Id 
most  respects  it  remains  unchanged.  The  governor  is  elected  for 
two  years,  with  no  restriction  as  to  ro-elccti»n.  Tho  Icgislnturo 
meets  biennially  in  the  first  week  of  January,  and  usually  continues 
in  session  till  Jlny.  The  supremo  court  consists  of  four  judges 
chosen  by  popular  vote  for  terms  of  eight  years,  ono  being  elected 
every  second  year.  Judges  have  been  so  frequently  rc-olecled  that 
the  office  may  be  said  to  be  practically  a  permanent  one,  with  t 
provision  for  termination  in  case  of  need.  The  Slate  is  divided  into 
twenty-two  judicial  districts  in  each  of  which  a  circuit  court  sits  for 
tho  trial  of  causes  of  original  jurisdiction,  and  of  causes  appealed 
from  tho  justice  courts.  The  judges  of  the  circuit  courts  are  also 
elected  by  popular  sulTrage.  On  political  questions  voting  is  open 
to  all  naturalized  citizens  of  the  male  sex  inoro  than  twenty-one 
years  of  age  unless  prevented  by  some  natural  disqualification.  At 
school  ineetinps  tho  right  of  suffrage  is  extended  so  as  to  include 
tax-payers  of  either  seit. 

/(iir»ori7in.— Frcilcrick  Vcflcf.Ulrhtfan  and  III  Rntmretl,  compWti  nniljc 
anthorily  of  the  Slale,  Sd  eel.-  Delroli,  19SJ;  ll"oH(»»'i  AHat  <■/  Utckigat, 
vitti  an  Aeeount  of  the  Topograptiv^  Climalf.  and  Getfiogg  of  tht  Slate,  bjr  .\lcx. 
Wlnchcll  LL.D. :  Jamcl  V.  CaniplKll,  OulltneM  of  the  Pclllleal  HUlor,  «r 
Uiehdian:  Rrporit  tf  tht  Seerelarg  of  the  Slate  Pomolofleat  SciMt  of  tlich<}an 
from  li71  10  1S80  ;  Bepixt  of  the  ioinmiiiUntri^  education  for  USO:  Forlfffit. 


1 


M  I  C  —  M  I  C 


241 


Annual Rrpcrl  nf  llf  SipninUndtnlof  PMU  hitratlion  o/lht  Stale  c/ Uichioan 
(or  the  tear  ISal;  Rporls  of  lUe  Ocdloyi'al  Suireii  (■/  Iht  Slalt  «/  Micliigaa. 
1869-80  4  vols.  :  Sf'Ciat  Report  0/ Coinmistioiter  of  iliutrat  Slatistirt,  March 
1883  ;  Fcreili)  Oulleliat  (or  1881.  (C  K.  A.) 

MICHIGAN,  Lake.     See  St  Lawrence. 

MICHIGAN  CITY,  a  town  of  the  United  States,  in 
Laporte  county,  Indiana,  on  the  south-east  shore  of  Lake 
Michigan,  40  miles  east-sonth-east  of  Chicago.  As  a 
lake-port  and  a  junction  for  several  railroads,  it  is  a 
place  of  considerable  prosperity.  It  is  the  largest  lumber- 
market  in  the  State,  and  one  of  the  largest  in  the.  west, 
and  has  numerous  manufacturing  establishments.  The 
northern  State  prison  (with  577  convicts  at  the  close  of 
1880)  is  one  of  the  principal  buildings.  The  jiopulation 
increased  from  3985  in  1870  to  over  10,000  in  1883. 

MICHMASH  (E'»??P,  D??P),  the  scene  of  one  of  the 
most  striking  episodes  in  Old  Testament  history  (1  Sam. 
liv.,  comp.  vol.  xii.  p.  403),  was  a  place  in  Benjamin, 
about  9  Roman  miles  north  of  Jerusalem  (Onom.,  ed.  Lag., 
p.  280).  Though  it  did  not  rank  as  a  city  (Josh,  xviii. 
21  sq.),  Michraash  was  recolonized  after  the  exile  (Xeh.  xi. 
31),  and,  favoured  by  the  possession  of  excellent  wheat- 
land  (3fishna,  Men.  \iii.  1),  was  still  a  very  large  village 
(Max^a'j)  in  the  time  of  Eusebius.  The  modern  ilakhmiis 
is  quite  a  small  place. 

The  liistorical  interest  of  Jlichmabh  is  connected  with  the 
*tnit>'gical  iiii]>artinec  of  the  position,  coninianiling  tlic  uoith  siilc 
of  the  Pass  of  Micliniash,  which  uiaJc  it  the  licadfjxiartcrs  of  the 
Philistines  and  tlie  centre  of  their  foi-ajs  in  tlicir  attcnijit  to  quell 
the  first  risinf;  under  Saul,  as  it  was  also  at  a  later  date  the  licad- 

Juarters  of  Jonathan  tlic  HiTsmonwri.  (1  Mac.  ix.  73).  From 
erusalein  to  Blount  Epliraim  there  -re  two  main  routes.  The  pre- 
sent caravan  road  keei'S  the  Iii;^h  jijround  to  the  west  near  the  water- 
shed, and  avoids  the  Pass  ot  Miehmash  altogether.  But  anotlier 
roate,  the  in)portanee  of  which  in  antiquity  may  be  judged  of  from 
Isa.  X.  28  52- ,  led  souttiwards  from  Ai  over  an  undulating  plateau  to 
Miehmash.  Thus  far  the  road  is  easy,  but  at  Miehmash  it  descends 
into  a  very  steep  and  rough  valley,  wliieli  has  to  be  crossed  before 
reasceuding  to  Geba.'  At  the  bottom  of  the  valley  is  the  Pass  of 
Uichinash,  a  noble  gorge  with  precipitous  craggy  sides.  On  the 
north  the  crag  is  crowned  by  a  sort  of  plateau  sloping  backwards 
into  ft  round-topped  hill.  .  This  little  plateau,  about  a  mile  east  of 
the  present  village  of  Makhmas,  seems  to  have  been  the  post  of 
the  Philistines,  lying  close  to  the  centre  of  the  insurrection,  yet 
possessing  unusually  good  communication  with  their  establishments 
on  Mount  Epliraim  by  way  cf  Ai  and  Uctiiel,  and  at  tlie  same  time 
commanding  the  routes  leading  domi  to  tha  Jordan  frotn  Ai  and 
Irom  Miehuiasli  itself. 

MICKIEWICZ,  Ad.\m  (1798-1855),  Poli.-^h  poet,  was 
born  iii  1798,  near  Nowogrodek,  in  the  present  government 
of  Minsk,  where  his  father,  who  belonged  to  the  schlachta 
or  lesser  nobility,  had  a  small  pro|ierty.  The  poet  was 
educated  at  the  university  of  Vilna ;  but,  becoming 
involved  in  some  political  troubles  there,  he  was  forced 
to  terminate  his  studies  abruptly,  and  was  ordered  to  live 
for  a  time  in  Russia.  He  had  already  published  two  small 
volumes  of  miscellaneous  poetry  at  Vilna,  which  had  been 
favourably  received  by  the  Slavonic  jiublic,  and  on  his 
arrival  at  St  Petersburg  he  found  himself  admitted  to  the 
leading  literary  circles,  where  he  was  a  great  favourite  both 
from  his  agreeable  manners  and  his  extraordinary  talent 
of  improvisation.  In  1825  he  visited  the  Crimea,  which 
inspired  a  collection  of  sonnets  in  which  we  may  admire 
both  the  elegance  of  the  rhythtn  ind  the  rich  Oriental 
colouring.  The  most  beautiful  are  Tlu  Sturm,  Bukchi- 
ierai,  and  Graee  of  the  Coioitess  Potoda. 

In  1828  appeared  his  Kunrnd  Wallairoa,  a  narrative 
poem  describing  the.  battles  of  knights  of  the  Teutonic 
order  with  the  heathen  Lithuanians.  Here,  under  a  thin 
Teil,  Mickiewicz  represented  the  sanguinary  passages  of 
arms  and  burning  hatred  which  had  characterized  the  long 
feuds  of  the  Russians  and  Poles.  The  objects  of  the  poem, 
although  evident  to  many,  escaped  the  Russian  censors, 

*  A  Isa.  X.  28  describes  the  invader  as  leaving  .his  heavy  baggage 
.at  Miehmash  before  pushing  on  through  the  pass.- 

16— U   , 


and  it  was  suSered  to  appear,  although  the  very  motto, 
taken  from  Machiavelli,  was  significant :  "  Dovete  adunque 
sapere  come  sono  duo  generazioni  da  combattere  .  .  . 
bisogna  essere  volpe  e  leone."  After  a  five  years'  exile  in 
Russia  the  poet  obtained  leave  to-  travel ;  he  had  secretly 
made  up  his  mind  never  to  return  to  that  country  or  Poland 
so  long  as  it  remained  under  the  government  of  the 
Muscovites.  Wending  his  way  to  Weimar,  he  there  made 
the  acquaintance  of  Goethe,  who  received  him  cordially, 
and,  jiursuing  his  journey  through  Germany,  he  entered 
Italy  by  the  Spliigcn,  visited  Milan,  Venice,  and  Florence, 
and  finally  took  up  his  abode  at  Rome.  There  he  wrote 
the  third  part  of  his  poem  Ddadij,  the  subject  of  which  is 
the  religious  commemoration  of  their  ancestors  practised 
among  Slavonic  nations,  and  Pan  Tadeusz,  his  longest 
poem,  by  many  considered  his  masterpiece.  A  graphic 
picture  is  drawn  of  Lithuania  on  the  eve  of  Napoleon's 
expedition  to  Russia  in  1812.  In  1832  Mickiewicz  left 
Rome  for  Paris,  where  his  life  was  for  some  time  spent 
in  poverty  and  unhappiness.  He  had  married  a  Polish 
lady,  Selina  Szymanowska,  who  became  insane.  In  1840 
he  was  appointed  to  the  newly  founded  chair  of  Slavonic 
languages  and  literature  in  the  Collige  de  France,  a  post 
which  he  was  especially  qualified  to  fill,  as  he  was  now 
the  chief  representative  of  Slavonic  literature,  Poushkin 
having  died  in  1837.  He  was,  however,  only  destined  to 
hold  it  for  a  little  more  than  three  years,  his  last  lecture 
having  been  given  on  the  28th  of  May  1844.  His  mind 
had  become  more  and  more  disordered  under  the  influence 
of  religious  mysticism.  His  lectures  became  a  medley  of 
religion  and  politics,  and  thus  brought  him  under  the  censure 
of  the  Government.  A  selection  of  them  has  been  published 
in  four  volumes.  They  contain  some  good  sound  criticism, 
but  the  philological  part  is  very  defective,  for  Mickiewicz 
was  no  scholar,  and  he  is  obviously  only  well  acquainted 
with  two  of  the  literatures,  viz.,  Polish  and  Russian,  the 
latter  only  till  the  year  1830.  A  very  sad  picture  of  the 
declining  days  of  ilickiewicz  is  given  in  the  memoirs  of 
Herzen.  At  a  comparatively  early  period  the  unfortunate 
poet  exhibited  all  the  signs  of  premature  old  age  ;  poverty, 
despair,  and  domestic  affliction  had  wrought  their  work 
upon  him.  In  1849  he  founded  a  French  newspaper, 
La  Tribune  des  Pevples,  but  it  only  existed  a  year.  The 
restoration  of  the  French  empire  seemed  to  kindle  his 
hopes  afresh ;  his  last  composition  is  said  to  have  been  a 
Latin  ode  in  honour  of  Napoleon  III.  On  the  outbreak 
of  the  Crimean  War  he  was  sent  to  Constantincple  to  assist 
in  raising  a  regiment  of  Poles  to  take  service  against  the 
Russians.  He  died  suddenly  there  in  1855,  and  his  body 
was  removed  to  France  and  buried  at  Montmorency. 

Mickiewicz  is  held  to  have  been  the  greatest  Slavonic  poet,  with 
the  exception  of  Poushkin.  Unfortunately  iu  other  parts  of  Europe 
he  is  but  little  known;  he  writes  in  a  very  difficult  language,  and 
one  wliieh  it  is  not  the  fashion  to  learn.  There  were  both  patho.s 
aiul  irony  iu  the  expression  used  by  a  Polish  lady  to  a  foreigner, 
"  Kous  avons  notrc  .Miekienicz  k  nous."  He  is  oue  of  the  best  pro- 
ducts of  the  so-called  romantic  school.  The  Poles  had  long 
groaned  under  the  yoke  of  the  classicists,  and  the  country  was  full 
of  legends  and  picturesque  stories  which  only  awaited  the  coming 
poet  to  put  them  into  shape.  Hence  the  great  popularity  among 
liis  countrymen  of  his  ballads,  each  of  them  being  connected  with 
some  national  tradition.  Besides  KonraJ  Walknrod  and  Fan 
TaJcusz,  attention  m.iy  be  called  to  the  poem  dnzi/ua,  which 
describes  the  adventures  of  a  Lithuanian  ehifftainess  against  the 
Teutonic  knights.  It  is  said  by  Ostrowski  to  have  inspired  the 
brave  Emilia  Plater,  who  was  the  heroine  of  the  rebellion  of  1830, 
and  after  having  fought  in  the  ranks  of  the  insurgents,  found  a 
grave  in  the  forests  of  Lithuania.  A  fine  vigorous  Oriental  pieeeis 
Fanjs.  Very  good  too  are  the  odes  to  Youth  and  to  the  his- 
torian Lelewel ;  the  former  did  much  to  stimulate  the  eflorts  of  the 
Poles  to  shake  off  their  Russian  conquerors.  It  is  euougK  to  say 
of  Miekiewiez  that  he  has  obtained  the  proud  position  of  the  repre- 
sentative jioet  of  liis  country  ;  her  customs,  her  superstitions,  her 
history,  her  struggles  are  reflected  in  his  works. _,^ 


242 


M  I  C  —  M  I  C 


illCKLE,  WiLUAM  Julius' (1734-1788),  son  of  the 
minister  of  Langholm,  Dumfriesshire,  holds  a  respectable 
place  among  the  imitative  minor  potts  of  the  18th  century. 
He  wrote  a  poem  on  Knowledge — carefully  versified, 
pointing  a  moral  on  the  vanity  of  intellectual  pride — 
af  the  age  of  eighteen,  entered  into  business  as  a  brewer 
at  his  father's  request  and  against  hia  own  inclinations, 
soon  became  bankrupt,  went  to  London  on  outlook  for 
work  as  a  man  of  letters,  solicited  patronage  in  vaiil, 
earned  a  living  hardly  by  writing  for  magazines,  made 
some  impression  in  1765  by  "a  poem  in  the  manner  of 
Spenser  "  called  the  Concubine  (afterwards  Syr  Martyn), 
was  appointed  corrector  to  the  Clarendon  Press,  and  finally 
took  a  place  among  the  leading  poets  of  that  very  barren 
time  by  a  translation  of  the  Lusiad  of  Camoens  into  heroic 
couplet^  (specimen  published  1771,  whole  work  1775). 
So  great  was  the  repute  of  the  work  that  when  Mickle — 
appointed  secretary  to  Commodore  Johnstone — visited 
Lisbon  in  1779  the  king  of  Portugal  gave  him  a  public 
reception.  As  a  translator  of  Camoens  Mickle  has  been 
superseded,  but  he  aimed,  not  at  close  rendering  of  the 
original,  but  at  making  a  poem  which  should  be  worthy  of 
a  permanent  place  in  English  literature.  This  ambition 
he  waa  not  capable  of  fulfilling^  though  he  had  great 
fluency  and  vigour.  It  may  be  doubted  whether  the 
fashionable  forms  which  he  imitated  were  the  best  suited 
to  hia  natural  gifts.  He  shows  delight  in  lively  action,  a 
sense  of  dramatic  effect,  and,  in  the  Concubine,  the  sub- 
stance of  which  might  have  been  conceived  by  Crabbe, 
considerable  fulness  of  detail  in  coarse  realistic  painting. 
Certainly,  if  the  Scottish  poem  There  's  nae  luck  aboot  the 
hoose  was  Mickle's,  he  mistook  hia  medium.  Scott  read 
and  admired  Mickle's  poems  in  his  youth,  and,  besides 
founding  Kenilworth  on  the  ballad  of  Cumnor  Hall,  waa  a 
good  deal  influenced  by  liim  in  style.  Mickle's  prose  is 
lively  and  vigorous. 

MICROMETER,  an  ■  instrument .  generauy  applied  to 
telescopes  and  microscopes  for  measuring  small  angular 
distances  with  the  former  or  the  dimensions  of  small 
objects  with  the  latter. 

Before  the  invention  of  the  telescope  the  accuracy  of 
astronomical  observations  was  necessarily  limited  by  the 
angle  that  could  be  distinguished  by  the  naked  eye.  •  The 
angle  between  two  objects,  such  as  stars  or  the  opposite 
timbs  of  the  sun,  was  measured  by  directing  an  arm 
furnished  with  fine  "  sights  "  (in  thi  sense  of  the  "  sights  " 
of  a  rifle)  first  upon  one  of  the  objects  and  then  upon  the 
other,  or  by  employing  an  instrument  having  two  arms 
each  furnished  with  a  pair  of  sights,  and  directing  one 
pair  of  sights  upon  one  object  and  the  second  pair  upon 
the  other.  The  angle  through  which  the  arm  was  moved, 
or,  in  the  latter  case,  the  angle  between  the  two  arms,  was 
read  off  upon  a  finely  graduated  arc.  With  such  means  no 
very  high  accuracy  was  possible.  Archimedes  concluded 
from  his  measurements  that  the  sun's  diameter  was  greater 
than  27'  and  less  than  32' ;  and  even  Tycho  Brahe  was  so 
misled  by  his  measures  of  the  apparent  diameters  of  the 
sun  and  moon  as  to  conclude  that  a  total  eclipse  of  the  sun 
was  impo3.sible.^  Maestlin  in  1579  determined  the  relative 
positions  of  eleven  stars  in  the  Pleiades  (Hisloria  Coele^is 
Litcii  Baretti,  Augsburg,  1666),  and  Winnecke  has  shown 
(Monthly  Notices  R.  A.  S.,  vol.  jcxxix.  p.  146)  that  the 
probable  error  of  these  measures  amounted  to  about 
±2'." 
: .-I 

*  Grant,  History  o/  Physical  Astronomy,  p.  449. 

•  This  is  an  astonishing  accuracy  when  the  difliculty  of  the  olijecta 
is  considered.  Few  persons  can  see  with  the  nuked  eye — much  less 
meacjure— more  than  six  stars  of  the  Plci.ides,  although  all  the  siavs 
measured  by  Maestlin  have  been  seen  with  the  naked  eye  by  a  few 
indivldaals  of  exceptional  powen  pf  eye*8ight. 


The  invention  of  the  telescope  at  once  extended  the 
possibilities  of  accuracy  in  astronomical  measurements. 
The  planets  were  .shown  to  have  visible  disks,  and  to  be 
attended  by  satellites  whose  distance  and  position  angle 
relative  to  the  planet  it  was  desirable  to  measure.  It 
became,  in  fact,  essential  to  invent  a  "  micrometer "  for 
measuring  the  small  angles  which  were  thus  for  the  first 
time  rendered  sensible.  There  is  now  no  doubt  that 
William  Oascoigne,  a  young  gentleman  of  Yorkshire,  was. 
the  first  inventor  of  the  micrometer.  Crabtree,  a  friend  of 
his,  taking  a  j^^omey  to  Yorkshire  in  1639  to  see  Gascoigne, 
writes  thus  to  his  friend  Horrocks.  "  The  fii'st  thing  Mr 
Gascoigne  showed  me  was  a  large  telescope  amplified  and 
adorned  with  inventions  of  his  own,  whereby  he  can  take 
the  diameters  of  the  sun  and  moon,  or  any  small  angle  in 
the  heavens  or  upon  the  earth,  most  exactly  through  the 
glass,  to  a  second."  The  micrometer  so  mentioned  fell 
into  the  possession  of  Mr  Richard  Townley  of  Lancashire, 
who  exhibited  it  at  the  meeting  of  the  Royal  Society  held 
on  the  25th  July  1667. 

The  principle  of  Gascoigne's  rnicrometer  is  that  two  Oas- 
pointers,  having  parallel  edges  at  right  angles  to  the  "^ig"' 
measuring  screw,  are  moved  in  opposite  directions  sym- """'' 
metrically  vrith  and  at  right  angles  to  the  axis  of  the 
telescope.  The  micrometer  is  at  zero  wheft  the  two  edges 
are  brought  exactly  together.  The  edges  are  then  separated 
till  they  are  tangent  to  the  opposite  limbs  of  the  disk  of 
the  planet  to  be  measmed,  or  till  they  respectively  bisect 
two  stars,  the  angle  between  which  is  to  be  determined. 
The  symmetrical  separation  of  the  edges  is  produced  and 
measured  by  a  single  screw ;  the  fractions  of  a  revolution 
of  the  screw  are  obtained  by  an  index  attached  to  one  end 
of  the  screw,  reading  on  a  dial  divided  into  100  equal 
parts.  The  whole  arrangement  is  elegant  and  ingenious. 
A  steel  cylinder  (about  the  thickness  of  a  goose-quill), 
which  forms  the  micrometer  screw,  has  two  threads  cut 
upon  it,  one-half  being  cut  with  a  thread  double  the  pitch 
of  the  other.  This  screw  is  mounted  on  an  oblong  box 
which  carries  one  of  the  measuring  edges  ;  the  other  edge 
is  moved  by  the  coarser  part  of  the  screw  relatively  to  the 
edge  attached  to  the  box,  whilst  the  box  itself  is  moved 
relatively  to  the  axis  of  the  telescope  by  the  finer  screw. 
This  produces  an  opening  and  closing  of  the  edges 
symmetrically  with  respect  to  the  telescope  axis.  Flam- 
steed,  in  the  first  volume  of  the  Historia  Coelestis,  has 
inserted  a  series  of  measurements  made  by  Gascoigne 
extending  from  1638  to  1643.  These  include  the  mutual 
distances  of  some  of  the  stars  in  the  Pleiades,  a  few  observa-' 
tions  of  the  apparent  diameter  of  the  sun,  others  of  the 
distance  of  the  moon  from  neighbouring  stars,  and  a  great 
number  of  measurements  of  the  diameter  of  the  moon.  Dr 
Bevis  (Phil.  Trans.,  1773,  p.  190)  also  gives  results  of 
measurements  by  Gascoigne  of  the  diameters  of  the  moon,' 
Jupiter,  Mars,  and  Venus  with  his  micrometer. 

Delambre  gives^  the  following  comparison  between  the  re-" 
suits  of  Gascoigne's  measurements  of  the  sun's  semi-diameter 
and  the  computed  results  from  modern  determinations  : — ' 

OctoJ)er      25  (O.n.j ... 

31.   „■    ... 

December    2     ,,     ... 

Gascoigne,  from  his  observation.s,  deduces  the  greatest 
variation  of  the  apparent  diameter  of  the  sun  to  be  35"  ;j 
according  to  the  Connaissance  des  Temps  it  amounts  to 
32"'3.'  These  results  prove  the  enormous  advance  attained 
in  accuracy  by  Gascoigne,  and  his  indisputable  title  to  tha 
credit  of  inventing  the  micrometer. 

Huygens,  in  his  Systema  Saluriiium  (1669),"deicribe8 
a   micrometer  with   which  he   determined   the  apparent 

',  Delambre,  Bist.  Ast.  Modeme,  vol.  li.  p.  690.  >"' 


Gascoigne. 

Conn.  d.  Tempi. 

16'  U"orlO" 

16'  10"-0 

16'  11" 

16'  U"-4 

16'  24"  , 

16'  16"-8  , 

MICROMETER 


243 


diameters  of  the  principal  planets.  He  inserted  a  slip 
of  metal,  of  variable  breadth,  at  the  focus  of  the  tele- 
scope, and  observed  at  what  part  it  exactly  covered  the 
object  under  examination ;  knowing  the  focal  length  of  the 
telescope  and  the  width  of  the  slip  at  the  point  observed, 
he  thence  deduced  the  apparent  angular  breadth  of  the 
object.  The  Marquis  Malvasia  in  his  Ephemeridet  (Bologna, 
1662)  describes  a  micrometer  of  his  own  invention.  At 
the  focus  of  his  telescope  he  placed  fine  silver  wires  at  right 
angles  to  each  other,  which,  by  their  intersection,  formed 
a  network  of  small  squares.  The  mutual  distances 
of  the  intersecting  wires  h«  determined  by  counting,  with 
the  aid  of  a  pendulum  clock,  the  number  of  seconds 
required  by  an  equatorial  star  to  pass  from  web  to  web, 
while  the  telescope  was  adjusted  so  that  the  star  ran  parallel 
to  the  wires  at  right  angles  to  those  under  investigation.' 
In  the  Phil.  Tram.,  1667,  No.  21,  p.  373,  Auzout  gives 
the  results  of  some  measures  of  the  diameter  of  the  sun 
and  moon  made  by  himself,  and  this  communication  led  to 
the  letters  of  Mr  Townley  and  Dr  Bevis  above  referred  to. 
The  micrometer  of  Auzout  and  Picard  was  provided  vAth 
silk  fibres  or  silver  wires  instead  of  the  edges  of  Gascoigne, 
but  one  of  the  silk  fibres  remained  fixed  while  the  other 
was  moved  by  a  screw.  It  is  beyond  doubt  that  Huygens 
independently  discovered  that  an  object  placed  in  the 
common  focus  of  the  two  lenses  of  a  Kepler  telescope 
appears  as  distinct  and  well-defined  as  the  image  of  a 
distant  body ;  and  the  micrometers  of  Malvasia,  Auzout, 
and  Picard  are  the  natural  developments  of  this  discovery. 
Gascoigne  was  killed  at  the  battle  of  Marston  Moor  on 
the  2d  July  1644,  in  the  twenty-fourth  year  of  his  age,  and 
his  untimely  death  was  doubtless  the  cause  that  delayed 
the  publication  of  a  discovery  which  anticipated,  by  twenty 
years,  the  combined  work  of  Huygens,  Malvaison,  Auzout, 
and  Picard  in  the  same  direction. 
^pitt  As  the  powers  of  the  telescope  were  gradually  developed, 
mtx.  it  was  found  that  the  finest  Mirs  or  filaments  of  silk,  or 
the  thinnest  silver  wires  that  could  be  drawn,  were  much 
too  thick  for  the  refined  purposes  of  the  astronomer,  as 
they  entirely  obliterated  the  image  of  a  star  in  the  more 
powerful  telescopes.  To  obviate  this  difiSculty  Professor 
Felice  Fontana  of  Florence  (Saggio  del  realgabiiuUo  difisica 
t  di  stoi-ia  naturale,  1755)  first  proposed  the  use  of  spider 
webs  in  micrometers,^  but  it  was  not  till  the  attention  of 
Troughton  had  been  directed  to  the  subject  by  Rittenhouse 
that  the  idea  was  carried  into  practice.'  In  1813  Wollaston 
proposed  fine  platinum  wires,  prepared  by  siirrounding  a 
platinum  wire  with  a  cylinder  of  silver,  and  drawing  out 
the  cylinder  with  its  platinum  axis  into  a  fine  wire.*  The 
surrounding  silver  was  then  dissolved  by  nitric  acid,  and 
a  platinum  wire  of  extreme  fineness  remained.  But 
experience  soon  proved  the  superiority  of  the  spider  web ; 
its  perfection  of  shape,  its  lightness  and  elasticity,  have 
lied  to  its  universal  adoption. 

Beyond  the  introduction  of  the  spider  line  it  is  unneces- 
isary  to  mention  the  various  steps  by  which  the  Gascoigne 
'micrometer  assumed  the  modern  forms  now  in  use,  or  to 
describe  in  detail  the  suggestions  of  Hooke,*  Wren, 
Smeaton,  Cassini,  Bradley,  Maskelyne,  Herschel,  Arago) 

*  Mini.  Acad,  tits  Science?,  1717,  p.  78  sq. 

'  lu  1782  (PhU.  Trans.,  vol.  luii.  p.  163)  Sir  W.  Herschel 
writes : — "  I  hive  in  vain  attempteJ  to  fiuit  lines  sufficiently  thin  to 
eitenil  them  across  the  centres  of  the  stars,  so  th.it  their  thickness 
might  b«  neglected."  It  is  a  matter  of  regret  tliat  Fontaua's  sugges- 
ition  was  unknown  to  him. 

'  Quekett  in  his  Treatise  mi  the  Microscope  ascribes  to  Ramsden  the 
J)ractical  introduction  of  the  spider  weh  in  micrometers.  The  evidence 
^appears  to  be  in  favour  of  Troughton. 

*  mi.   Trans.,  1813,  pp.  114-118. 

«>  •  Dr  Hook«  made  the  important  improvement  on  Gascoigne's 
iaicrometer  of  substituting  parallel  liairs  for  the  parallel  edges  of  its 
original  construction  (Hooke's  Posihuiiioiis  Works,  p.  497). 


Pearson,  Bessel,  Struve,  Dawes,  ic,  or  the  successive 
productions  of  the  great  artjpts  Ramsden,  Troughton, 
Fraunhofer,  Ertel,  Simms,  Cooks,  Grubb,  Clarke,  and 
Kepsold.  It  will  be  sufficient  to  describe  those  forms  with 
which  the  most  important  work  has  been  done,  or  which 
have  survived  the  tests  of  time  and  experience. 

Before  astronomical  telescopes  were  mounted  parallactically,  the  Position* 
measurement  of  position  angles  w.ia  seldom  attempted.  Indeed,  angles, 
in  those  days,  the  diSiculttes  attached  to  such  measures,  and  to  the 
measurement  of  distances  with  the  filar  micrometer,  were  exceed- 
ingly great,  and  must  have  taxed  to  the  utmost  the  skill  and  patience 
of  the  observer.  For,  on  account  of  the  diurnal  motion,  the  direc- 
tion of  the  axis  of  the  telescope  when  directed  to  a  star  is  always 
changing,  so  tlmt,  to  follow  a  star  with  an  altazimnth  mountine, 
the  observer  requires  to  move  continuously  the  two  handles  which 
give  slow  motion  in  altitude  and  azimuth.  -■ 

Sir  William  Herschel  was  the  first  astronomer  who  measured  HerschelV 
position  angles  ;  the  instrument  he  employed  is  described  in  Fhil.  histru- 
Trans.,  1781,  voL  Ixxi.  p.  500.  It  was  used  by  him  in  his  earliest  nient. ' 
observations  of  double  stars  (1779-83);  but,  even  in  his  matchless 
hands,  the  measurements  were  comparatively  crnde,  because  of  the 
difficulties  he  had  to  encounter  from  the  want  of  a  parallactic  mount- 
ing. In  the  case  o£  close  double  stars  he  estimated  the  distance  in 
terms  of  the  disk  of  the  components.  For  the  measurement  of  wider 
stars  he  invented  his  lamp-micrometer,  in  which  the  components 
of  a  double  star  observed  with  the  right  eye  were  made  to  coincide 
with  two  lucid  points  placed  10  feet  from  the  left  eye.  The  distance 
of  the  lucid  points  was  the  tangent  of  the  magnified  angles  sub- 
tended by  the  stars  to  a  radius  of  10  feet.  This  angle,  therefore, 
divided  by  the  magnifying  power  of  the  telescope  gives  the  real 
angular  distance  of  the  centres  of  a  double  star.  With  a  power  oj 
460  the  scale  was  a  quarter  of  an  inch  for  every  second. 

The  Modem  Filar  Miaometer. 

When  equatorial  mountings  for  telescopes  became  more  general, 
no  filar  micrometer  was  considered  complete  which  was  not  fitted 
with  a  position  circle.*  The  use  of  the  spider  line  or  filar 
micrometer  became  universal ;  the  methods  of  illumination  were 
improved  ;  and  micrometers  with  screws  of  previously  unheard-of 
fineness  and  accuracy  were  produced.  These  facilities,  coupled 
with  the  wide  and  fascinating  field  of  research  opened  up  by  Sir 
William  Herschel's  discovery  of  the  binary  character  of  double  stats,, 
gave  an  impulse  to  micrometric  research  which  has  continued 
unabated  to  the  present  time.  A  still  further  facility  was  given  to 
the  use  of  the  filar  micrometer  by  the  introduction  of  clock- 
work, which  caused  the  telesco^ie  automatically  to  follow  the  diurnal 
motion  of  a  star,  and  left  the  observer's  hands  entirely  at  liberty.'     — 

The  modern  filar  micrometer  has  now  assumed  forms  of  five  types.  Classiflca- 

Ti/pe  A. — Micrometers  in  which  there  are  two  webs,  each  mov-  tion  of 
able  by  a  fine  screw  with  a  divided  head.  This  is  the  usual  English  micro- 
form of  filar  micrometer.  meters. 

Tyiie  B.  — Micrometers  in  which  one  web  is  movable  by  means  ' 
of  a  fine  screw  with  a  divided  li«ad,  and  the  other  by  a  screw 
without  a  divided  head.  The  latter  screw,  in  ordinary  use,  is  only 
employed  to  change  the  coincidence-reading  of  the  two  webs,  for 
eliminating  the  errors  of  the  micrometer  screw.  This  is  the  ordi- 
nary German  form  of  micrometer  as  originally  made  by  Fraunhofer 
and  since  by  Merz,  and  employed  by  the  Struves  and  other  principal 
Continental  astronomers  down  to  the  present  day. 

Type  C.  — A  similar  form  of  micrometer  to  B,  except  that  the 
coincidence-point  cannot  be  changed, — there  being  no  second  screw 
to  alter  the  position  of  the  fixed  web. 

Type  D. — A  micrometer  somewhat  similar  in  general  construction 
to  form  B,  except  that,  in  addition  to  means  of  changing  the  zero 
point,  there  is  a  screw  head  by  which  a  fine  movement  can  be  given 
to  the  whole  micrometer  box,  in  the  direction  of  the  axis  of  the 
micrometer  screw.  This  is  the  modern  form  of  micrometer  as  con- 
structed by  Repsold. 

Type  E.  —Micrometers  fitted  with  two  eye-pieces  for  measuring 
angles  larger  than  the  field  of  view  of  au  ordinary  eye-piece. 

The  micrometer  of  type  A  is  due  to  Troughton  ;  it  is  represented  Trough- 
in  figs.  1,  2,  3.     Fig.  1  is  a  horizontal  section  in  the  direction  of  ton's  ftlir, 
the  axis  of  the  telescope.     The  eye-piece  nb  consists  of  two  piano-  micro- 
convex  lenses  n,  b,  of  nearly  the  same  focal  length,  and  with  the  two  meter. 


•  Herschel  and  South  (Phil.  Trans.,  1824,  part  iii.  p.  10)  claim 
that  the  micrometer  by  Troughton,  fitted  to  their  5feet  equatorial 
telescope,  is  the  first  position  micrometer  constructed  capable  of 
measuring  position  angles  to  1'  of  arc. 

'  So  far  as  we  can  ascertain,  the  first  telescope  of  large  size  driven 
by  clockwork  was  the  9-inch  equatorial  made  for  Stmve  at  Dorpat  by< 
Fraunhofer;  it  was  completed  in  1825.  The  original  idea  appears 
to  be  due  to  Passemcnt  {Mem.  Acad.,  Paris,  1746).  In  1757  he  pre- 
sented a  telescope  to  the  king,  so  accurately  driven  by  clockwork  that 
it  would  follow  a  star  all  night  long.  ■ 


2-W 


M  l.aK,.0  ME  T  E  R 


convex  SI  Jcs  rSc!ii">«n  ocncr. ,',  They  are  placed  at  a  distance  apart 
less  than  the  focal  length  of  a,  so  that  the  wives  of  the  micrometer, 
which  must  be  ilistinctly  seen,  are  bcyouu  !i.'  The  eyc-picce  slides 
into  the  tube  c,l,  which  screws  into  the  brass  ring  c/,  through 
two  openings  in  which  tlie  oblong  frame,  containing  tl>e  micrometer 
slides,  passes.  •  Tlicse  slides  are  shown  in  fig.  2,  and  consist  of 
brass  forks  k  and  I,  into  which  the  ends  of  the  screws  o  and  p  are 
rigidly  fitted.  Tlie  slides  are  accurately  fitted  so  as  to  have  no 
sensible  Literal  shake,  but  yet  so  as  to  move  easily  in  the  direction 
of  the  greatest  length  of  the  micrometer  bo.';.  Jtotiou  is  communi- 
cated to  the  folks  by  female  screws  tapped  in  the  heads  711  aud  n 


[types   of   riULE 


acting  on  tlic  sci'ews  0  and  p  rcsiwctively."  Two  pins  /},  r,  with 
spiral  springs  coiled  ronnd  them,  pass  loosely  through  holes  in  the 
forks  i-,  ;,  and  keep  the  bearing's  of  the  heads  m  and  «  firmly 
pressed  against  the  ends  of  the  micrometer  box.  Tlius  the  smallest 
rotation  of  eitlier  head  communicates  to  the  corresponding  slido  mo- 
tion, which,  if  the  screws  are  accurate,  is  proportiou.-il  to  tlie  amount 
threuglijwniich  the,  head  is  turned.  Each  head  is  graduated  into 
100  Squal  parts  on  the  drams  u  and  r,  so  that,  by  estimation,  tlie 
reading  can  easily  be  cariied  to  tttWIi  of  a  revolution.  The  total 
iruir^er  of  revolutions  is  read  otf  by  a  scale  attached  to  the  side  of 
tha*lBox,  but  not  seen  in  the  figure. 

^Two'  ,spidcr  webs  are  stretched  across  the  forks,  one  (()  being 
feniented  in  a  fine  gi-oove  cut  in  the  iniiei-  fork  k;  the  other  (s)  in  a 
similar  groove  cut  in  the  outer  fork  I.  These  grooves  arc  sinuiltane- 
onsly  cut  in  situ  by  the  maker,  with  the  aid  of  an  engine  capable 
of  ruling  fine  straight  lines,  so  tliat  the  webs  when  aceur.vtely  laid 
in  the  grooves  are  perfectly  parallel.  A  wire  st  is  stretched  across 
the  centre  of  the  field,  perpemlicular  to  tlio  p.arallel  wires.  Each 
movable-  web  must  pass  the  other  without  coming  in  contact  with 
it  or  the  fixed  wire,  and  without  rubbing  on  ai^  part  of  the  brass- 
work.  S- Should  either  fault  occur  (technically  called  "fiddling")  it 
is  fatal  to  accurate  measurement. '  One  of  the  most  essential  jioints 
in  a'  good  micrometer  is  that  all  the  webs  shall  be  so  nearly  in  tlie 
same  plane  as  to  be  well  in  focus  together  under  the  highest  powers 
used,  and  at  the  same  time  absolutely  free  from  "fiddling."  For 
measuring  position  angles  a -brass  circle  <jh  (fig.  3),  fi.Ked  to  the  tele- 
scope by  the  screw  i,  has  rack  teeth  on  its  circumferem.e  that  receive 
the  teeth  of  an  endless  screw  it,  which,  being  fi.\ed  by  the  anus  xx 
to  the  oblong  box  iiiu,  gives  the  latter  a  motion  of  rotation  round 
the  axi',  of  tlie  telescope ;  an  index  upon  this  box  points  out  on 
the  graduated  circle  j/i  the  angular  rotatiou  of  the  instrument," 
\  I  The  English  micrometer  still 
retains  the  essential  features  of 
Troughton's  original  construc- 
tion ft  above  described.  The 
latery  English  .  artists  have 
BOBiewhat  chau^ 
bfjj^communicati 

tho^slides,  .  by  '..n,,.,.,..,-  inu  ,,,,  ,,,„., ,„,.,„. ^ 
screws,  permanently  to,;..thc,"^^™'i"™ 
micrometer  head  and  tapping 
each  micrometer  screw  into 
its  slide.  Instead  of  nmking 
th&t  shoulder  of  the  sciVw' a 
(latibearing  surface,- they  have^  ..'*'»'''''^ 

^ivciuthc  screw  a  spherical  bearing  resting  in  a  hollow  cono  (fig?' 
i)  atrtched  to  the  eml  of  the  box.  .  The  French  artists  still  retain 
Trofl^hton's  form.",  Simnis  (Troughton's  successor)  and  Cooke  (of 
Voik)!ffoV  symmetry  and  more  cflcctual  elimination  of  "  the  loss  of 
lime  "''Yeallrd  by  the  Germans  "  todter  Gang,"  and  sometimes  in 
P.nirUah. 'MiacJj-iash"),  have  provided  .two  pins  vith  spiral  springs, 

'  Tins  13  Known  os  natr.sticn'8  cye-plccfl'  ft  was  made  origlnaUy  by  Iiim. 


igcd   the   mode  '  ^^^Wi:^ 
ing  motion  to     3  p 

■attacbiu"   the  _^ R^ 


1  like  q  and  T  (fig.  2),  one  on  each  side  of  the  screw  which  moves 
each  slide. 

Crubb  of  Dublin,  with  the  intention  of  avoiding  the  variation  of 
pressure  exerted  by  the  spiral  springs  when  the  slide  is  ot  diUereut 
distances  from  the  head  of 
tlv!  screiv,  h.as  adopted  the 
fvllowiug  pl.in.  Where  the 
screw  enters  the  slide  he  has 
a  until  attached  to  a  strong 
spring  pp  (fig.  5),  the  pres- 
sure of  which  exerts  a  con- 
stant tiusiou  in  the  axis  of 
the  screw,  tending  to  bring 
-the  threads  into  close  con- 
tact, in  opposit;  directions, 
with  their  bearings  iu  the 
>.nt  ,1  and  the  sli^e  q.  The 
pressure  of  this  spring  is 
regulated  by  the  screws  5,  5, 
tapped  into  the  tliickenid 
ends  of  the  springs.  For 
iiiaiutainiiig  the  spheiical 
shoulder  of  the  screw  in 
close  and  constant  I'l-essurc 
on  its  conical  bearing  he 
has  attached  a  conical  bear 
ing  to  the  spring  j>'y/  (fig, 
C).  The  pressure  of  this 
on  the  upper  part  of  the 
spherical  shoulder  is  regu- 
lated by  the  screws  s\  s\ 
passing  through  elongated 
holes  in  the  s]ning;i'//,  and 
tapped  iuto  tli«  end  of  the 
box. 

-.  The  screws  of  micrometers  are  generally  made  witli  50  or  100 
threads  to  the  inch.  Troughton's  method  of  reading  the  numb-- 
of  whole  revolutions  by  a  silver  scale  is  inconvenieut,  because  r^i\ 
or  even  ;Vtli  of  an  inch  is  too  small  a  quantity  to  read  easily  ^ith 
the  naked  eye,  especially  with  the  faint  illumination  tliat  iVSj 
desirable  to  use  when  measuring  faint  objects.  Diffeicnt  method?, 
iucliidiug  tho  "comb"  (see  bebjw)  and  various  kinds  of  "counters," 
have  been  iutroduecd  with  more  or  less  success  ;  but  recently  the 
Repsolds  of  Hamburg  have  ^^^ 


Fig.  7. 


o[;=;]g 


contrived  a  plan  at  once 
simple  and  so  efficient  that 
it  will  be  unnecessary  to 
describe  those  methods  which 
this  plan  is  certain  to  sujier- 
scde  (see  below,  typo  D). 
Grubb  has  introduced  a 
modification  in  the  form  of  "=•  "• 

the  slides  with  a  view  to  .avoid  the  friction  of  one  slide  against  thj 
other.  On  the  inner  side  of  the  brass  j^late  which  forms  the  bottom 
of  the  box  (i.e.,  the  side  opposite  to  the  cyc-piecc)  four  V-shaped 
furrows  are  placed  (fig.  7);  and  at  each  end  of  the  slides  are  pro- 
jections (fig.  8,  end  view)  which  fit  into  these  furrows.  The  slidce 
are  kept  down  in  their  places  by  springs  attached  to  them,  whic'b 
pre-ss  upon  the  inner  side  of  the  lid  of  tlic  box. 

Troughton's  mode  of  giving  rotation  to  the  position  circle  is  now 
abandoned.  A  iniicli  quicker  motion  in  position  angle  than  can 
be  obtained  without  slow  motion  is  often  desirable,  since,  in 
observing  very  close  double  stars,  the  unCi  rtainty  of  each  point- 
ing may  amount  to  several  degrees  iu  the  most  accurate  measure- 
iiRUts  The  plm  of  a  pinion  working  iu  a  toothed  wheel  is 
ofleu  emplo}ed  but  that  also  is  too  slow.  Most  modern  micro- 
in  ttrs  ai  now  fitted  uiih  a  clamp  and  slow  motion  screw  (sec  fig. 
^  tj  1  e  B)  Tills  permits  observation  of  tu)sition  angles  of  veiy 
close  objects  bj  simple  rotation  of  the  box  with  the  hand ;  while  the 
^lou  motion,  after  clamping,  j^crmits  the  more  delicate  mo\ement3 
tl  it  lie  lequucd  in  measuring  tho  position  angle  of  objects  f.irther 
ipit 

The  Cookes  and  Grubb  have  for  ye.irs  almost  invariably  trans- 
f  lud  the  position  circle  from  the  micrometer  to  the  telescope  tube. 
The  whol  e\e  end  with  its  focussing  airnngeincnts  rotates,  and  \\.^ 
lotition  can  be  measured  by  a  ciulo  attached  to  the  butt  end  of 
the  tube  rheie  is  considerable  convenionce  iu  this  arrangement 
One  position  circle  only  is  reqirfied  for  all  tlie  micronictci-s  that 
may  be  employed  with  the  instrument ;  and  the  orientation  of 
reticulated  diaidiragms,  or  tho  adjustment  of  the  direction  of  the 
slit  of  a  spectroscope,  may  also  be  accomplished  by  the  same  means. 
Uut,  after  a  very  extended  experience  of  all  the  various  ty|vs  of 
existing  inoniitiug>,  the  picseut  writer  does  not  hii.itale  to  express  a 
deei.led  jnefcrence  for  a  ]io.nitiou  circle  attached  to  tSe  micrometerand 
a  rigidattaehmcnt  of  the  eyc-eud  to  the  telescope  tube,— liaviug  never 
seen  an  eye-end  attaehed'to  a  position  circle  on  the  butt  end  of  the 
telescope-tube  in  whi-h,  a'tor  'ho  wear  and  tear  of  a  few  years, 


■MICROMETER.] 


MICRO  jMETER 


245 


Frann- 

hofer's 

Slar 

mioro 

mttcr. 


.„n,A  lnn«ness  or  shake  could  not  be  detected.  This  is  a  fatal  fuult, 
Wciallvia  those  delicate  observations  of  differenoo  of  do.hn.^ 
•J^  \.w.hh^ve  latterly  formed  so  ilrominent  a  feature  in  refuied 
tion  "■•''f.''\7';;,,'yoQ  the  other  hand,  in  some  Rood  old  micro- 
m.crometr.e  researc  .     O"';;  °"  "^^     if  Good  Hope,  that  are 

SlXuVimdrelf  VSr^Ses,  tl'Jcre  is  no  trace  of  shake  or 

''^1h:'mIcrolL""f°t;,>fB  represented  in  fig.  9>  is  the  original 
MeV  mTcrometer  of  the'cape  Observatory,  n.ade  on  rnnnhof  s 
model  •  S  is  the  head  of  the  micrometer  screw  proper,  s  that  of  the 
S?ew  movinK  the  slide  to  which  the  so-called  '  fi.ved  ^^eb  is 
Xche^r/  that  of  a  screw  which  moves  the  eye-piece  E.  C  .s  th 
clamp  and  M  the  slow  motion  m  position  angle  L,  L  are 
Sat?ached  to  a  larger  tube  N  ;.  the  '?""  /  '  '^f  ^  ^" 
»  stron"  hollow  cylinder  which  terminates  m  the  screw  V.  By 
?hU  scr?w  the  whole  apmratus  is  attached  to  the  telescope.     The 


Fig.  9. 
iio2zle3  of  sm.-ill  lamps  are  inserted  in  the  tubes  L,  L,  for  iUu- 
minatin"  the  webs  in  a  dark  field  ;  the  light  rem  these  lamps  is 
admUeS  through  apertures  in  the  strong  hollow  cylinder  above 
n'enoned  (for"  illumination,  see  below).^  In  this  micrometer 
?he  three  slides  moved  by  S,  s,  and  s'  arc  simple  doveta  Is 
The  lowest  of  these  slides  reposes  upon  a  foundat  on-plate  «., 
into  one  end  of  which  the  screw  s  is  tapped.  lu  the  '"'JJlo  » 
this  slide  a  stiffly  fitting  brass  disk  is  inserted,  to  which  a  smaU 
turn-table  motion  may  be  communicated  by  ..n  attached  arm,  acted 
on  bT  two  fine  opposing  screws  accessible  to  the  astronomer ,  ami  by 
?heii-  means  the '"fixld  wive"  may  be  rendereJ  strictly  parallel 
with  the  movable  wire.  ,  .      .. 

The  micrometer  screw  ismounted  on  the  s  ide  which  cavr.es    he 
movable  web.     Fig.   10  shows  a  plan  of  this  slide;  the  duided 
(lv«m    of    the    scvew    is    omitted    for    sake    of    clearness.      Ihe 
screw  S  has  a  shoulder  at   h,  carefully  fitted  and  ground  to  a 
bearing  so  as  to  work  sweetly  in  a  hole  in  the  very  strong  spring 
cr;  the  otlier  extremity  of  the  screw  is  formed  into  a  pivot,  « Inch 
fits  a  hole  in  the  brass  piece  $$.    The  end  of  this  piyot-hardcned, 
iiolished,  and  slightly  rounded— rests  on  the  flat  surface  ot  an  agate 
a  wliich  is  imbedded  in  the  end  of  the  slide,  and  kept  firmly  in  its 
piace  by  the  brass  piece  e^.     By  cai'eful  adjustment  of  the  screws 
e  $  sulticieJit  pressure  may  be  left  upon  k  to  slightly  bend  tlie  strong 
sprin"  (T<r  and  thus  eliminate  all  end-shake  without  preventing  easy 
action  of  the  screw.     Tlie  screw  passes  at  tlie 
same  time  through  the  bush  B  (shown  in 
plan  and  elevation,  fig.   10)  attached  to  pr 
(fig.  9) ;   and  there  is  a  fine  saw  cut,  wliieli 
tan  be  narrowed  by  the  small  screw  t, 

■     "  ■'        ■ ' """    IlE; 


astronomy  have  been  executed.  In  this  micrometer  the  s"ew  »  i» 
mounted;  on  its  own  slide  and  has  a  divided  head  precisely  like 
the  screw  S  (fig.  9).  The  plate  rP  is  elongated  towards  s,  and  tlie 
corresponding  bush  B  is  attached  to  this  elongation  The  screw  y 
is  shifted  to  another  part  of  the  eye-piece  slide,  so  that  it  do"  not 
intevfcvo  with  the  incveased  diametev  of  the  scvew  s.  Fvaunhoters 
micvometer  in  this  form  belongs  to  type  A,  but  is  quoted  under 
tyiie  B  for  convenience  of  descriiition.  r.      a    1, 

It  is  not  necessary  to  give  a  figure  representing  type  (-■.  ^  sucn 
micrometers  have  been  generally  constructed  on  Tronghtons  type 
(fi''s  12  3)  with  the  omission  of  one  of  the  screws,  ami  witii 
one  ov  move  of  the  modifications  descvibed  in  detail  under  type  A. 
Some  have  also  been  made  similar  otherwise  to  the  Fvaunhofev  con- 
stvuction,  by  omitting  the  screw  s  with  its  corresponding  slide 
and  attaching  the  fixed  wire  to  a  circular  plate  m  ;v'.  , 

GoodTnst  vSments  have  been  made  on  type  C  by  Clark  (Cambridge  a.A, 
Jlassachusetts),  bv  Steinheil  (Munich),  and  by  the  gve.it  French  filar<, 
aitistsTcretai    F:-oment,  Brunner,  Eichcns;  and  good  work  has  been  micrw 
done  l^th  ?hem.     Ent  it  is  necessary  that  the  ervovs  of  the  screw  met«S 
should  be  very  carefully  determined   since,  in  tj-pe  C   such  eiro  3 
cannot  be  eliminated  by  employing  different  par  s  of  the  sciew  to 
n.easure  the  same  angle.     There   is  a  °o'";;°'^«iy  descv  nt.on  of 
micrometer  that  forms  a  link  between  types  C  and  D,  of  which  the 
n  ost  amons  example  (by  Clark)  isattaehed  to  the  gjf^t  Washmg- 
ton  telescope.    It  is  essentially  a  micrometer  of  type  C  with  a  slida 
0    folk    and  a  scvew  of  the  English  foim  of  construction     But  the 
"istninient  is  provided  with  a  screw  as  at  .  (fig.  9  ,  ^h'ch   ius^.«l 
of  changing  the  position  of  the  fixed  wire,  moves  the  whole  n^ao- 
meter  box  fn  the  direction  of  the  axis  of  the  measnnng  screw.    Thus 
the  fixed  wive  can  be  set  exactly  on  one  stav  by  tho  screw  s  w  hi  e 
he  other  star  is  immediately  afterwards  bisected  by  the  movable 
wire     and   that  without  disturbing  the  reading  for  coincidence 
of  the  wires.     No  one,  unless  he  las  previously  worked  without 
such  an  arrangement,  can  fully  appreciate  the  '^dvantageo    bung- 
in"  up  a  star  to  bisection  by  the  fixed  wive  by  moving  the  ""oi  ometer 
box  with  a  delicate  scvew-motion,  instead  of  having  to  change  the 
direction  of  the  axis  of  a  huge  telescope  for  the  same  purpose 
AVhen  it  is  fuvther  remembered  that  the  earlier  telescopes  were  not 
provided  with  the  modern  slow  motions  in  "gbt  ascension    and 
that  the  Struves,  in  their  gigantic  labours  among  the  double  stars 
u  ed  to  complete  their  bisections  on  the  fixed  wive  by  a  p^ssuve  of 
the  finger  on  the  side  of  the  tube   one  is  fueled  whether  mo      to 
'  wonder  at  th^poor  adaptation  of  means  to  ends  or  the  man  ellous 
patience  and  skill  which,  with  such  means  led  to  «  <^h  W^'?-     " 
should  be  added  that  Dawes  practically  adopted  a  ';'oJ;^<^^t.on  of 
Clark'.s  micrometer  by  using  a  sln'l»"g  Piece.  and  bolting  one  of 
the  heads  of  his  micrometer  {Mem.  E.  AS.,  vol.  Y^V.J'.liJe, 
His  slipping  piece  gave  motion  Jo  the  niicrometer  by  two  sUdes 
one  in  right  ascension  the  other  in  decimation,  so  that  "  eithei  of 
the  webs  can  be  placed  upon  dthcr  of  the  components  of  a  double 
star  with  ease  and  certainty."  .  {k,.,..„j 

All  micrometers  used,  in  conjunction  with  a  m.croscore,  f6"«Jd- 
ing  the  divisions  of  transit  circles,  hcliometer  sc^es,«:c.,  are  of  the 
type  C.  The  reading  micj-ometer  is  shown  m  fig.  11.  C  is  tno 
^  '  objective,  D  the  micrometer  box,  E  the  grad- 

-t  nated  head  of  the  screw,  G  the  nulled  head 

hv  which  the  screw  cc  is  turned,  A  an  ej'c- 
piece  slidina  in  a  tube  B,  aa  (fig.  12)  the  slide.l 


close  tho  bush  upon  the  micrometer  screw  ,JroS\-,  , 

with  a  view  of  pveventing  "loss  of  time." 

The  spidev  web  u,  is  cemented  on  the  fuvthet 

side  o£  the  thin  plate  vi^y,  the  vavnish  being 

applied  in  the  countersunk  holes  shown  by 

the  dotted  circles  ii,  /n.  The  slide  is  counter- 
sunk to  about  half  its  thickness  within  the 
area  indicated  by  oooo,  in  order  to  allow  the 
adapter  of  the  cyc-jiiece  to  come  sufficiently 
close  to  tho  webs.  The  eye-piece  was  origin- 
ally moved  by  a  pinion  wovkiug  in  a  rack  r 
(fig.  9);  but  the  screw  s*  ajiplicd  by  Simms 
was  found  by  ilaclear  to  be  more  convenient  p.     j^ 

for  the  pnviwse.     Beyond  this,  and  tHegrad-  *'      '.  .  . 

uation  of  the  edge  of  the  circle  witli  more  strongly  cut  divisions 
than  those  ovigiually  engvaved  on  the  face  of  the  civclc,  the  in.stvn- 
ment  vcmains  and  is  figured  in  its  original  form.  Tistor  and 
Martins  (Bevliu)  havo  also  made  excellent  instvumcuts  of  the 
above  type.  There  is  a  celebrated  micrometer  of  their  make,  with 
IDunsluk  which,  in  the  hands  of  Brunnow  at  Dunsink  (Dubhn),  some  of  , 
micro.      tl;e  most  perfect  and  refined  investigalions  ever  made  m  ]>ractical  I 


Uneter.  ,  ^-^,.„  „  i,  remcmbcrcl  Hint  llic  mcasurcmcms  .  (  tlic  Sir 

ScccM  tlic  Bonds,  Maclcnv.  and  of  most  niodi-rn  CoiUinc 
•       Ixcn  ni-iJ^-  Mitli  Fnuiilioltr  or  Mora  nilcromctcvs,  it  is  no 
flc    9  rppivsonft  tlie  instrument  withwhicli  tlirce-fourll 
I  o(  tlic  l*«t  rtdy  years  iiave.bccn  made. 


..  Dcmbuwskl, 
inoiiicrs  Jiiivc 
■I,  to  say  mat 


.  Fig.  11.  f 'S-  1" 

and  h,  b  the  spiral  springs.  The  focal  length  of  the  ohjective 
and  the  distance  between  the  optical  centre  of  the  lens  and  the 
webs  are  so  arranged  that  images  of  the  divisions  ave  formeiJ  ni 
the  idane  of  the  webs,  and  the  pitch  of  the  scvew  is  such  that  oue 
division  of  the  .scale  covrespouds  with  some  whole  number  of  re^ 
volutions  of  the  screw.  i  i  •„  »v; 

There  is  what  U  technically  called  a  "comb  iiisevted  m  tho 
micvometcv  box  at  il  (fig.  l-2),-its  upper  surface  being  nearly  in  the 
i.lane  of  the  wires.  This  comb  docs  not  move  with  rcfercnrc  to  the 
box,  and  serves  to  indicate  the -ivhole  revolution  of  whicua  fvac  ion 
is  read  on  the  head.  In  fig.  li  a  division  is  vepresented  bisected  by 
cross  webs,  and  five  revolutions  of  the  screw  corresi^ond  Mih  one 
division  of  the  .s.-alc.  In  all  luoden.  reading  micrometers  tbe  "o" 
webs  of  fig.  12  are  replaced  by  parallel  webseiybvacing  the  dmsion, 

"TTlicla.e  r.>,l.:S~.7\xZ^.n  n^J\  ">  say,  quaintly  and  iii.l.  Ivulli,  ••After  «%' 
the  best  pail  ol  Ibe  ■■■i. --."»•"  u  .l,o  man  at  Hie  snuU  end. 


246 


MICROMETER 


[lyrcs  OF  filak 


(fig.  13).     The  means  for  chauging  the  length  of  tli«[tube  and  the 

distance  of  C  from  the  scale  are  omitted  in  the  figur^llftt'hese  apf  li- 

auces  are  required  if  the  ""run"  has  to  be  accurately 

adjusted.     By  "  run  "  is  meant  the  difference  between  the 

intended   whole   number  of   screw-revolutions   and   the 

actual  measure  of  the  space  between  two  adjacent  di- 

visiona  of  the  scale  in  turns  of  thp  screw  divided  by  the 

number  of  intended  revolutions.     Indelicate  researches 

two  divisions  of  the  scale  should  always  be  read,  not  ' '8'  ^^' , 

merely  for  increased   accuracy  but   to  obtain  ^the  corrections  for 

"run  '  from  the  observations  themselves. 

Bepsold's      Fig.  1 4  represents  an  important  type  of  reading  micrometer  by  the 

reading      Ropsolds.     Here  the  web-frame  is  mounted  on  the  screw  itself    The 

micro-       limiting  plane  of  motion  is  at  }),  where  the  end  of  the  micrometer 

^eter.       screw  bears  upon  the  hardened,  flattened  end  of  the  screw  s,  and  is 

kept  in  l>earing  against  this  plane  by  the  spiral  spring  q.     Rotation 


Micro- 
meter 
errors. 


Fig.  U. 
of  the  wire-frame  is  prevented  by  the  small  stud  m  which  passes 
through  the  *eb-frame  and  projects  slightly  on  both  sides  of  it, 
just  barely  touching  the  inner  surfaces  of  the  top  and  bottom  of  the 
.  micrometer  box.  The  web-frame  thus  rests  solely  on  the  screw  and 
on  the  point  m,  and  therefore  follows  it  absolutely  and  accurately. 
nThe  comparative  merits  of  the  various  micrometers  are  discussed 
by  Lord  Lindsay  and  Mr  Gill  {Dunecht  Publications,  t61.  ii.  pp. 
'53-55,  1877).  If  the  screw  of  the  Repsold  micrometer  is  bent,  so 
that,  for  example,  the  end  of  the  frame  next  the  screw-head  is  raised 
and  that  next  the  end  jo  lowered,  a  twist  will  be  given  to  the  web- 
frarae,  and  th&  centre  of  the  wire  will  be  moved  nearer  to  the  micro- 
■meter  head  than  it  should  be,  while  the  reverse  effect  will  follow  when 
,the  head  has  been  turned  through  180°.  The  eflect  of  a  similar 
error  on  the  other  micrometers  described  would  be  of  a  much  less 
Amount.  They  are,  however,  liable  to  errors  of  another  character.  ■ 
'If,  as  in  Troughton's  original  micrometer,  the  shoulder  is  square, 
the  hole  in  the  end  of  the  box  may  be  left  sufficiently  wide  to  allow 
for  a  small  error  in  the  parallelism  of  the  screw-matrix  with  the 
motion  of  the  slide,  but  the  smallest  bend  in  the  screw  causes  the 
shoulder  no  longer  to  bear  fiat,  but  to  ride  ou  its-edge,  thus  intro- 
ducing an  extremely  uncertain  form  of  error.  If  the  shoulder  is 
spherical,  fitting  into  a  hollow  cone  on  tlie  end  of  the  box,  as  in  tlie 
micrometers  of  Simms,  Cooke,  and  Grubb,  an  almost  inconceivable 
accuracy  of  construction  is  implied  in  drilling  the  matrix  of  the 
screw  in  the  slide  so  that  its  axis  and  that  of  the  cone  shall  be  in 
tKe  same  straight  line,  and  both  parallel  to  the  motion  of  a  point 
in  the  slide.  Any  departure  from  perfect  accuracy  iji  this  respect 
has  the  effect  of  bringing  different  portions  of  the  spherical  shoulder 
to  bear  on  different  parts  of  the  cone  for  different  revolutions,  and 
introduces  errors  of  a  character  by  no  means  easy  to  deal  with.  In 
addition  to  these  objections  there  always  is  the  greater  objection 
of  employing  as  a  delicate  contact-measuring  surface  one  that  is 
exposed  where  oil  is  used.  Dust  and  oil  will  arrange  themselves  in 
layers  of  variable  and  uncertain  thickness  and  defeat  all  attempts 
to  secure  absolutely  consistent  results.  In  Repsold's  micrometer 
the  poiiU  d'appui  is  a  small  hardened  and  polished  bearing,  requir- 
ing little  lubrication,  and  perfectly  protected  from  dust;  the  errors 
of 'the  screw  (some  of  thera  exaggerated,  certainly)  are  faithfully 
reproduced,  and  consequently  determinable,  and  beyond  this  the 
jwork  to  be  done  by  the  screw  is  reduced  to  a  minimum, — no  slide- 
frictiou  having  to  be  overcome.  If  we  are  to  regard  as  the  most 
perfect  instrument,  "not  that  which  has  absolutely  the  smallest 
errors,  but  that  which  rfproduces  its  errors  with  the  most  perfect 
consistency,"  undoubtedly  Repsold's  foriif  of  micrometer  is  best. 

In  order  to  avoid  the  exaggeration  of  the  screw-errors  produced 
by  the  non-symmetrical  position  of.  the  screw  in  Repsold  s  micro- 
meter, Stone,  in  December  1879,  exhiwrted  at  the  Royal  Astronomical 
Society,  and  described  [Month!!/  Notices,  p.  270),  a  modification  of 
Ropsold's  instrument.     But,  both  in  his  statement  of  the  compara- 
tive merits  of  the  Troughton  ana  Repsold  micrometers  and  in  the 
•new  form  which  ho  figures,  Stone  overlooks  a  strong  point  in  the  Rep- 
lindaay-  sold  form,  and  in  that  proposed  by  Lord  Lindsay  and  Gill  three  years 
GHU  mi-     previously,' — namely,  the  avoidance  of  all  friction  of  the  slide,  and 
urometer,  the  elimination  of  all  error  or  strain  that  may  occur  from  a  want  of 
parallelism  in  the  axis -of  the  matrix  and  the  motion  of  the  slide. 
jThe  Lindsay-Gill  micrometer  will  be  better  understood  from  the 
following  description.     In  hg.  15  Ss  is  the  micrometer  screw;  its 
1  J>umcht  Publkationi,  vol.  U.,  footnote  p.  hi,  Dimecht,  1877.  ~^ 


cylindrical  axis  is  nicely  ground  to  fit  a  hole  in  the  side  of  the  box 

at  «  ;-  the  same  axis,  but  ground  to  a  somewhat  smaller  cylinder, 

fits  neatly  but  smoothly  a  hole  in  the  web-fiame  att. ,  A  screw, 

cut  on  the  same  axis,  is  tapped  into  the  web-' 

frame  at  «,  and  the  axis  terminates  in  a  pivot 

which  fits  a  hole  in  a  brass  plate  cc.    The  end 

of  the  piyot— bardened  and  sligbtly  rounded 

— rests  on  a  flat  agate  ^  bearing  o,  which  is 

imbedded  in  the  plate  B,  and  securely  held 

in  silu  by  pressure  of  the  plate  cc.  ■  The  platu 

B  is  firmly  attached  to  the  bottom  of  the 

box.    q,  q  are  spiral  springs  mounted  on  pins,, 

Both  springs  and  pin  pass  freely  through  tli^ 

web-frame  a.t  p,  p,  and  the  pins  (but  not  the 

springs)  pass  freely  through  the  frame  at  n,  «.' 

The  parallel  webs  for  observing  the  division 

(fig.  13)  are  mounted  on  the  forked  end  of 

the  frame  at  ww. 

The   web-frame   is' narrower  ana   tiiinner 
than  the  breadth  and  height  of  the  interior 
of  the  box,  and  is  only  prevented  from  rotat- 
ing by  the  delicate  touch  of  the  projecting 
ends  of  the  pin  m  on  the  inner  surfaces  of  the 
top  and  bottom  of  the  box.     It  appears  that 
a  frame  so  mounted  fulfils  all  theoretical  con- 
ditions of  accuracy.     It  is  perfectly  free  to 
follow  the  motion  of  the  screw  and  accurately 
.to  reproduce  its  errors,  notwithstanding  any 
reasonable  faults  of  workmanship  ;    and  no 
permissible  shako  or  fouling  of  the  bearing    '  ■'"  ^'8-  ^^■ 
at  a  can  produce  sensible  error  in  the  distance  between  the  bearing 
surface  of  the  agate  plane  and  the  spider  webs.     The  motion  is  pro-j 
duced  with  the  minimum  of  friction;  and  the  "feel"  of  t^e  screw 
is  therefore  as  delicate  and  perfect  as  it  is  possible  to  make  it. 

The  micrometer  of  type  D  shown  in  fig.y  16  has  ^recently 
been  made  by  the  Repsolds  for  the  Cape  Observatory.  .^  As  this 
instrument  combines 
all  tl;eir  most  recent  ^ 
modifications,  we  de- 
scribe it  in  detail. 
Fig.  17  represents  the 
same  micrometer  with 
the  upper  side  of  the 
box  removed. '.  The 
letters  in  the  descrip- 
tion refer  .  tp^  both 
figures. 

S  is  the  head  of  the 
micrometer  screw,  j 
that  of  the  screw  by 
which  the  micrometer 
box  is  moved  relative 
to  the  plate/(fig.  16), 
s'  that  of  the  screw 
which  moves  tlie  eye- 
piece slide.  .  K  is  the 
clamp  .in  ''  position 
angle,  P  the  slow  mo- 
tion screw  in  position 
angle  ;  pp  is  the  posi- 
tion circle,  R,  R  its 
two  reatlei-s.  The  lat- 
ter are  in  fact  little 
microscopes    carrying  pj     ig 

a    vernier   etched   on  °' 

glass,  in  lieu  of  a  filar  -micrometer.  These  verniers  can  be  read  t> 
1',  and  estimated  to  0''2.  D  is  the  drumhead  which  gives  the  frao- 
tion  of  a  revolution,  d  that  which  gives  the  whole  number  of  revo- 
lution-s,  I  is  the  index  or  pointer  at  which  both  drums  are  read. 
This  index  is  shown  in  fig.  17,  but  only  its  mode  of  attachment  (X,' 
fig.  17)  in  fig.  16.  The  teeth  of  the  pinion  :,  fig.  17,  are  cut  on  the 
axis  of  the  micrometer  screw.  *  The  drum  d  and  its  attached  tooth- 
wheel  are  ground  to  turn  smoothly  on  the  axis  of  the  sci-ew.  The 
pinion  s  and  the^oothed  wheel  d  are  connected  by  an  intermediate 
wheel  and  pinion  'V;  the  numbers  of  teeth  in  the  w  heels  and  pinions 
are  so  proportioned  that  twenty-four  revolutions  of  thp  micrometer 
screw  jirouuce  one  revolution  of  the  drum  and  wheel  ff.  (This  is 
the  description  of  Repsold's  counter  referred  to  under  typo  A. )  The 
divisions  of  both  drums  are  conveniently  read,  simultaneously,  by 


-  Tliero  would  be  some  ndvanUffO  la  allowltv  the  screV*  axis  to  paas  wUli  ft 
mtle  Blioko  llirouBli  tlio  liolo  In  llic  end  of  tho  box  at  a,  «nd  tticiTscxtendlng  the 
lingth  of  ttio  larger  cylinder,  transfer  the  bcnrliiR  from  o  to  a  vcll-BtllnR  hole  la 
a  picco  nxrd  llko  B  to  tho  bottom  of  tho  box.  This  form  »pouia  also  give  aomo 
fnclllllea  of  construction,  and  all  tho  oiled  surfaces  «oulJ  ha  ftitcctly  protected. 

3  Sapphire  Is  better ;  tho  agate  hearing  of  such  a  scnfw  has  been  found  T^iy 
tcnslbly  worn. 

•  If  It  Is  desired  to  prevent  possible  contact  of  .these  \>\Dfi  wfth  the  frame,  tUft 
ends  of  the  pint  may  be  made  to  enter  guiding  holes  In  a. 


WICKOMETER.] 


M-rC  il  O  METER 


247 


^,  liHia  t  ■  at  nielit  tb«  lamp  which  iUaminatcs  the  webs  and.flie 
w'itiTu  circle  aUo  illuminates  the  drur-.rhe«(ls  (see  on  illumination 
Cow)  Wi»  the  web.frame.(fig.  17„  ^yi^  a  single  rod  copsistinfe' 
cf  two  cySrs  accurately  fitting  in  the  ends  of  the  micrometer 
box  theCger  cylinder  being  at  0.  There  is  a  hole  in  the  web- 
ft-ame  which  smoothly  fits  the  larger  cylinder  at  fi!,  and  another 
which  similarly  fits  tie  smaller  cylinder  at  y'  A  spiral  spring 
Toi  d  round  the  cylinder  y,  resting  one  end  on  the  "'"'"f ' ''°™"d^ 
by  the  difference  it  the  diameters  of  the  cylinders  fl  and  y  and  the 
oUi  r  onthe  inside  of  the  web-frame,  pre^es  the  latter  ""'•""""^'y 
towards  ■»  Contact  of  the  web-frame  of  the  micrometer  with  the 
ride  of  the  box  at  y  would  therefore  take  i;lace  were  't  "ft  for  the 
micrometer  screw.  This  screw  fits  neatly  in  the  end  of  the  box  at 
"  p!^es  loosely  through  the  web-frame  at  .',  is  tapped  into  the 
(reSTat  f,  and  its  end  resti  on  a  flat  hardened  surface  at  f.  Rota- 
"n  of  the  web-frame  about  Py  is  prevented  by  the  headB  of  the 
«!rews  at  m  ;  the  head  of  the  screw  on  the  lower  side  of  the  rame 
renoses  on  the  plane  rv,  that  on  the  upper  side  (fg.  17)  touches 
"gCy  on  the  inner  surface  of  the  lid  of  the  box  Such  rotation 
can  obTiously  be  controlled  within  limits  that  need  not  be  further 
coMidered.     But  freedom  of.  rotation  in  the  plane  of  the  paper 


Fid.* 
ffig.  17)  is  only  prevented  by  goa(ttlM\\s  of  the  holes  /J",  7';  and, 
since  the  weight  of  the  slide  is  on  one  side  of  the  screw,  misfit  here 
will  have  the  effect  of  changing  the  reading  for  coincidence  of  the 
moi  able  with  the  fixed  web  in  reverse  positions  of  the  microniater. 
With  the  Cape  micrometer  a  systematic  difference  has  been  found  in 
the  coincidence  point  for  head  above  and  head  Ije'.off  ainouoting  to 
9"-14.  This  corresponds,  in  the  Cape  instrumcut,  with  an  excess  of 
the  diametereof  the  holes  ovorthcsa  of  the  cylinders  of  about  ,^W1> 
of  an  inch,— a  quantity  so  small  as  to  imply  good  workoiaijship, 
though  it  involves  a  systematic  error  whioh  is  verv  much  larger 
than  the  probable  error  of  a  single  determination  of  the  coincidence 
point.  The  obvious  remedy  is  to  make  all  measures  on  opposite 
sides  of  the  fixed  web  before  reversing  in  position  angle,— a  precau- 
tion, however,  which  no  careful  observer  would  neglect.  In  measur- 
ing differences  of  declination,  whore  the  stars  are  brought  up  by  the 
diurnal  motion,  this  precaution  cannot  be  adopted,  because  it  is 
necessary  always  to  bisect  the  preceding  star  with  the  fixed  web. 
But  in  AS  measures  index  error  can  always  be  eliminated  by 
fcisecting  both  stars  with  the  same  web  (or  different  webs  of  known 
interval  fixed  on  the  same  frame),  and  not  cmidoying  the  fixed  web 
>t  all.  Had  the  spring  7  been  nlaced  as  in  fig.  14.  and  the  cylinders 
e  and  y  been  made  to  bear  lik«  the  pivots  of  a  transit  on  seg- 
menUl  bearings  in  the  frame  at  jB'  and  y',  it  is  probable  that  the 
difference  in  coincidence  points  would  not  have  existed.  Such  a 
modificatiou  appears  advisable,  unleea  this  construction,  by  leaving 
the  end  m  tjss  free,  should  make  the  "  fed  "  of  the  screw  less  sweet 
«nd  perfect  The  discordance  in  zero  when  known  to  exist  is 
nsUy  of  no  conncquencc,  because  tlie  observ&liojis  can  be  so 
arranged  as  to  eliminate  it.  '    --- 

The  box  is  mounted  on  a  strong  hoUoWsteel  cylinder  CO  (fig.  17) 
by  holes  n,  «  in  the  endspf  the  box,  which  fit  the  cylinder  closely 
and  smoothly.  The  cylinder  is  rigidly  fixed  in  the  studs  C,  C,  and 
these  are  attached  to  the  foundation  plate/.  The  cylinder  contains 
«  towards  j|  a  sliding  rod,  and  towards  9  a  conipres.std  spiral  spring. 
There  is  thus  a  thrust  outwards  of  the  spring  upon  the  hollow  cap 
W  (attached  outside  the  box),  aad  a  thrust  of  the  rod  upon  the  end 


of  the  screw  ».  The  position  of  the  box  relative  to  the  plate/,  in 
the  direction  of  measurement,  depends  therefore  on  the  distance 
between  the  end  of  the  screw  s  and  the  fixed  stud  C.  A  screwing 
in  of  »  thus  causes  the  box  to  move  to  the  left,  and  vice  tersa. 
Rotation  of  the  box  round  CC  is  prevented  by  downward  pressure 
of  the  spring  Z  on  a  projection  attached  to  the  side  of  the  box.  The 
amount  of  this  pressure  is  regulated  by  the  screw  /. 

The  short  screw  whose  divided  milled  head  is  <r  shifts  the  zero 
of  the  micrometer  by  pushing,  without  turning,  the  short  sliding 
rod  whose  flat  end  forms  the  point  cCappai  of  tlie  micrometer  screw 
at  f  The  pitch  of  the  screw  a  is  the  same  as  that  of  the  measuring 
screw  (50  threads  to  the  inch),  and  its  motion  can  be  limited  by  a 
stop  to  half  a  revolution. 

The  five  fixed  webs  are  attached  to  the  table  tt,  which  is  secured 
to  the  bottom  of  the  box  by  the  screws  p.  The  throe  movable 
webs  are  attached  to  the  projections  \\  on  the  frame  aa.  The  plane 
jburfaces  tt  and  AA  are  composed  of  a  bronze  of  very  close  texture, 
"which  appears  capable  of  receiving  a  finish  having  almost  the  truth 
and  polish  of  an  optical  surface.  It  seems  also  to  take  a  very  clean 
V  cut,  as  the  webs  can  be  laid  in  their  fnrrows  with  an  astonishing 
ease  and  precision.  These  furrows  have  apparently  been  cut  tii  sila 
with  a  very  accurate  engine  ;  for  not  the  slightest  departure  from 
parallelism  can  be  detected  in  any  of  the  movable  webs  relative  to 
the  fixed  webs.  Extraordinary  care  has  evidently  been  bestowed 
in  adjustin"  the  parallelism  and  distance  of  the  planes  t  and  \,  so 
that  the  movable  wires  shall  almost,  but  not  quite,  touch  the  sur- 
face T.  The  varnish  to  fix  the  \yebs  is  applied,  not  on  the  surface 
T  as  is  usual,  but  on  a  bevel  for  the  purpose,'  the  position  of  the 
webs  depending  on  their  tension  to  keep  them  in  their  furrows. 
The  result  is  that  no  traco  of  "fiddling"  exisU,  and  the  inoT- 
able  and  fixed  webs  come  sharply  together  in  focus  with  the  highest 
powera.  Under  such  powers  the  webs  can  be  brought  into  apparent 
contact  with  such  precision  and  delicacy  that  the  uncertainty  of 
measurement  seems  t>  lie  as  much  in  tlie  estimation  of  the  frac 
tion  of  the  division  of  the  head  as  in  the  accuracy  of  the  contact. 
It  is  a  convenient  feature  in  Kcpsold's  micrometer  that  the  webs  are 
very  near  the  inner  surface  of  the  top  of  the  box,  so  Uiat  the  eye  is  not 
brought  inconveniently  close  to  the  plate  when  high  powei-s  are  used.  _ 

Jliciometers  of  the  typo  E  have  been  invented  by  Alvan  Clark  and  Clark  s 
Onibb      Clark's  micrometer  was  exhibited  at  the  Juno  meeting  of  mBro- 
the  Hoyta  Astronomical  Society  in  1859  {ilonthhj  Kolias  E.  A.  S.,  meter  f 
vol  «ix.).     It  is  capable  of  measuring  angles  up  to  about  one  degree,  large 
O  is  "  furnished  with  two  eye-pieces,  composed  of  small   single  angles, 
leasaa,  mounted  in  separate  frames,  which  slide  in  a  groove  and 
can  be  separated  to  the  required  distance.     A  fromc  carrying  two 
parallel  spider  linos,  each  mounted  separately  with  its  own  micro- 
meter screw,  slMos  in  a  dovetailed  groove  in  front  of  the  eye-pieces ; 
and  by  a  free  motion  in  this  frame  each  web  can  be  brought  opposite 
its>  own  eye-lens.     In  using  this  micrometer,  the  first  step  is  to  set  the 
Bosition-vernier  to  the  approximate  position  of  the  objects  to  be 
measured.    Then  the  eye-lenses  are  scparatad  tiU  ec  h  is  opposite  ita 
own  object.     The  frams  containing  the  webs  and  their  micrometer 
screws  is  then  slid  into  iU  plaCB  ;   and   the  webs,  having   been 
separated  nearly  to  their  proper  distance  by  their  free  motion  in  the 
frame,  are  placed  precisely  on  the  objects  by  their  fine  screws   the, 
oI»erver's  eye  being  carried  rapidly  from  one  cye-lcns  to  the  other  a 
few  times,  till  he  is  satisfied  of  the  bisection  of  each  of  the  objects  by 
its  own  web.    The  frame  is  then  removed  for  reading  off  the  measure 
by  means  of  an  achromatic  microicopc,  on  the  stoge  of  which  it  is 
placed."  .The  advantages  which  Clark  claims  a«  those  :-  J 

"  1.  Kstanccs  can  be  observed  with  great  accuracy  up  to  about 
one  dcgroe,  and  the  angles  of  position  also.  ,     ,    ,       ,      ■ 

"0  The  webs,  being  in  the  same  plane,  are  perfectly  free  from 
naraUax,  and  are  both  equally  distinct,  however  high  the  magnify^ 
mg  power  may  be.  ,.         .  ,  ,  1 

•'3.  The  webs  are  also  free  from  distortion  and  from  colour. 
'"4    A  different  msgnifying  jiowcr  may  be  used  on  each  of  the 
object's,— which  may  be  advantageous  in  comparing  a  faint  comet 

*  'it  aVpcars  to  us  that  the  method  of  removing  a  slide  in  order  to 
measure  the  interval  between  the  webs  U  liable  to  objection  not 
only  because  of  the  risk  to  the  webs,  bnt  because  the  taking 
of  measurements  of  such  a  different  character  with  a  different 
instrument  is  inconvenient  and  troublesome  It  is  true  th.it  the 
intervals  between  the  webs  could  be  measured  by  an  assistant,  and 
two  or  more  different  slides  be  employed  to  sore  time  ;  but  astrono- 
mers will  probably  generally  prafer  the  method  introduced  by 
Grubb  described  below.  It  is  understood  that  Clark  has  since 
improved  this  instrument  by  an  ingenious  arrangement  oJ  prisms, 
which  permits  both  webs,  even  though  separated  one  degree  in  a 
laroe  telescope,  to  be  seen  in  the  same  eye-piece.  The  arr.iugement 
is  not  describe4,  and  is  said  to  be,  as  yet,  somewhat  troublesome 
to  arronge   previous   to   measurement,  though  when 


anged  jj 
^M^lscUntifil'' r-^mli>>0>  of  Royal  Dublin  So<icUl)J^^^^^ 
applied  »1U  lie  seen  !"  fls  " 


248 


M  I  C  R  O  M  E  T  Em- 


[WEBBIKO. 


Grubb'^rf  what  he  calls  his  "duplex  micrometer,"  shown  in  pprspectire  in  fi^ 
^upU^  18  : — "  A  plate  of  glass  about  2^  inches  Btjuare  is  ruled  with  twenty- 
micro-  one  lines  in  one  direction  j\th  in  .h  apart,  and  two  lines  iu  tlie  other 
meter.  direction  2  inches  apart.  The  extreme  lines  of  the  set  therefore 
form  a  perfect  square  of  2  inches.  These  lines  are  ruled  with 
exceeding  accuracy  and  care,  but  provision  is  left  for  ascertaining 
any  errors  that  rcmnia  either  as  to  distance  or  want  of  perfect 
squareness.  Along 
one  side  of  the  square 
is  mounted  a  micro- 
meter frame  in  the 
ordinary  way,  actu- 
Bted  by  a  screw  of 
one  hundred  threads 
to  the  inch.  This 
micrometer  frame 
carries  eleven  lines 
corresponding  exact- 
ly to  each  alternati 
line  in  the  glast 
reticule,  sothatwhen 
the  first  spider  lino 
is  made  coincident 
with  the  first  dia- 
mond line  on  the 
glass  the  last  spider  . 

line  will  be  coincident  with  the  last  line  on  the  glass,  and  each  of 
the  spider  lines  will  be  coincident  with  all  the  odd  numbers  of 
diamond  lines,  1,  3,  5,  7,  9,  11,  13,  15,  17,  19,  21.  Over  this  glass 
plate  is  placed  a  brass  cap  in  which  two  eyepieces  are  mounted, 
one  sliding  in  a  groove  at  right  angles  to  the  other,— so  that, 
while  one  has  its  journey  backwards  and  forwards  on  the  horizontal 
line,  the  other  has  its  journey  on  the  vortical  line,  according  to 
how  the  cap  is  placed,  for  this  cap  is  capable  of  rotation  to  meet 
arious  circumstances. 

■  "How  to  Use  the  Instrument— \.  The  two  stars  are  brought  on  the 
horizontal  line,  and  the  distance  measured  from  centre  to  centre 
■long  that  line.  This  distance  is  measured  by  counting  the  number 
of  spaces  on  the  glass,  adding  the  residue  as  measured  by  the 
micrometer  screw.  Thus  the  screw  is  never  used  for  larger  measures 
than  ^th  inch,  and  therefore  errors  of  screw  and  temperature  eiTors 
are  much  reduced.  In  bisecting,  one  star  is  brought  into  the  "field 
of  one  eye-piece,  and  a  bisection  is  made  with  one  of  the  diamond 
lines  by  moving  the  micrometer  by  one  or  other  of  its  slipping  piece 
screws.  Then  the  other  eye-piece  is  moved  till  the  second  star  is 
seen,  and  a  bisection  is  made  with  the  nearest  spider  line  by  moving 
the  micrometer  head.  Then  the  eye  can  be  moved  back  to  the  first 
eye-piece,  and  the  bisection  checked,  and  again  back  to  the  other 
eye-piece.  When  it  is  seen  that  both  are  eatisfactory  the  measure 
can  be  read  off.  2.  The  micrometer  is  turned  round  till  the 
horizontal  line  becomes  parallel  to  the  path  of  apparent  motion  of 
the  star.  This  is  easily  found  by  stepping  the  clock  and  allowing 
the  star  to  run  along  the  horizontal  wire.  Now  the  other  star  wifi 
be  found  to  cross  the  vertical  line  somewhere,  while  the  first  star  is 
OQ  the  horizontal  line.  This  second  star  is  then  bisected  on  the 
vertical  line,  while  the  first  star  is  bisected  by  one  of  the  spider 
lines  ;  thtis  the  difference  in  right  ascension  is  found.  We  then 
have  two  sides  of  a  right-angled  triangle  and  of  course  all  the 
elements  are  known. 

"  To  Ascertain  the  Errors  {if  any)  of  the  Distance  of  the  Lines. — 
Of  course,  the  usual  plan  of  taking  transits  can  be  adopted,  and  to 
ascertain  if  the  lines  he  perfectly  ut  right  angles  a  special  additional 
eye-piece  is  provided,  so  that  transits  can  be  taken  across  each 
diagonal  of  the  square." 

!  This  instrument  has  great  advantage  over  Clark's  in  ease  of 
adjustment  and  use,  and  has  done  good  work  at  the  University 
Observatory,  Oxford  {Mem.  R.  A.  S.,  vol.  xlvii.  pp.  5-12). 
Professor  Pritchard  claims  too  much  when  he  estimates  its  work  as 
equal  in  accuracy  with  that  of  the  heliometer— at  least  the  pnbliehed 
results  do  not  confirm  such  a  view.  But  it  is  a  very  valuable 
instrument  for  measuring  objects  too  faint  for  the  limited  aperture 
of  most  heliometers,  and  which  at  the  same  time  are  farther  apart 
than  the  field  of  view  of  an  ordinary  eyepiece. 

The  accuracy  of  the  duplex  micrometer  would  be  very  greatly 
increased  if  Clark's  idea  (above  mentioned)  of  viewing  both  widely 
separated  webs  in  one  t-ye-pieco  of  high  flower  could  be  reduced  to 
a  convenient  practical  form. 

Method  of  Webbing  the  Filar  Micrometer. 
.The  webbing  of  a  micrometer  is  a  process  that  should  be  familiar 
to  all  practical  astronomers.  English  opticians  usually  proceed  as 
follows.  A  spider  (the  variety  ia  marked  by  a  cross  on  the  back, 
and  ia  found  in  English  gardens  about  decayed  wood)  is  cauglit, 
and  placed  on  a  wire  fork.  The  insect  immediately  ottnches  a  web 
tothe  wire  and  begins  to  lower  itself  by  a  web  to  the  gTOund.  This 
web  is  wound  up  on  tho  fork  till  ten  or  twelve  turns,  separated  by 
A  convenient  space,  have  been  secured.  .  A  brush  with  vamlBh  is 


then  passed  nlong  the  prongs  ;  the  webs  are  thus  securely  fixed  to 
the  fork.  The  parallel  prongs  of  the  fork  munt  Lc  sufficiently  far 
apart  to  allow  tho  web-framo  of  the  micrometer  to  pass  between 
them.  The  frame  to  be  webbed  is  placed  on  a  flat  dull  black 
surface  between  the  prongs  of  the  fork,  the  latter  being  carefully 
arranged  so  that  one  of  the  webs  lies  nearly  in  the  furrow  ruled  id 
the  frame  for  its  reception.  As  the  web-frame  is  generally  thicker 
than  the  fork,  the  web  will  now  be  stretched  across  the  former, 
with  a  certain  amount  of  tension,  and  is  brought  into  the  furrow 
with  a  finely  pointed  piece  of  soft  wood.  If  the  surface  of  the  fian>e 
i?  well  polished,  and  the  furrows  sharply  cut,  without  "burr,"  the 
web  should  lean  shari-ly  and  decidedly  into  its  place.  Each  end 
of  the  web  is  then  secured  by  a  drop  of  shellac  varnish,  which 
should  be  allowed  to  hnrden  thoroughly  before  the  frame  is  touched. 
'I'he  webs  can  be  vary  readily  so  handled  against  a  black  back- 
ground, wifti  tho  aid  of  a  hand  lens  of  2  or  3  inches  focus.  In 
experienced  hands  thismetliod  gives  good  results,  but  the  following, 
which  is  generally  followed  on  the  Continent,  is  preferable. 

A  web,  about  2  inches  longer  than  tlie  wiJth  of  tho  frame,  is 
unwound  from  a  cocoon,'  and  small  pieces  of  lead  are  attached 
to  its  extremities  by  beeswax.  One  end  of  the  web,  with  its 
attached  lead,  is  laid  on  a  piece  of  cork  floatijig  in  a  tumbler  of 
water  ;  the  other  end  is  allowed  to  hang  down  in  the  water,  where 
it  becomes  thoroughly  saturated  and  untwisted.  It  is  then  laid 
across  the  fork,  and  dropped  into  its  funows  in  the  manner  above 
desL-ribed,  the  little  lead  weights  exerting  a  definite  tension. 
V^ijnish-  is  immediately  applied  to  secure  the  webs,  and  the  frame 
is  not  touched  till  it  is  dry.  -^ 

The  bevel-edge  of  the  web-frame  introduced  by  Repsold  (type 
D)  offers  great  facilities  for  accurate  webbing,  and  should  be  em-i 
ployed  in  all  future  micrometers. 

Hhimination  of  Micrometers. 

When  micrometer  observatious  are  made  by  night  it  is  necessary 
to  have  some  mode  of  rendering  the  webs  visible, — either  by  rays 
of  light  at  right  angles  to  the  axis  illuminating  the  webs,  or  by 
rays  nearly  coincident  with  the  axis  of  tho  telescope.  In  the 
former  case  we  get  bright  webs  in  a  dark  field,  in  the  latter  dark 
webs  on  a  bright  field.  -^jj 

In  the  older  telescopes  bright  web  illumination  is  produced  by 
small  lamps  with  nozzles  that  enter  the  tubes  L,  L  (fig.  9).  The 
illumination  is  regulated  in  colour  and  intensity  by  wedges  of 
coloured  or  darkened  glass  passing  through-  slides  in  the  nozzles. 
But  it  is  inconvenient  to  have  lamps  so  near  the  observer's  cyo,  and 
it  is  at  least  very  difficult  to  obtain  a  perfectly  dark  field  when  the 
wires  are  illuminated  in  this  way. 

The  Clarks,  in  their  micrometer  of  the  great  Washington  tele- 
scope, have  made  the  end  of  \)oxT  (fig.  15)  transparent,  and  light  is 
thrown  on  the  webs  from  a  lamp  held  by  an  assistant.  Holdcn  has 
very  recently  applied  a  lamp  ingeniously  hung  so  as  to  preserve  its 
verticality  and  the  constant  direction  of  its  light  in  a  similar  way, 
adding  a  plain  silvered  mirror  inside  the  box  and  opposite  the 
lamp,  so  as  to  illuminate  the  webs  symmotrically.  In  the  Clarks* 
and  Holdcn 's  methods  it  is  only  the  webs  at  right  angles  to  the 
screw  that  are  illuminated. 

For  illumination  of  tho  field,  in.  very  old  tek-scopes,  light  was 
thrown  on  a  small  ivory  reflector  fixed  outside  tjio  object-glass  in 
the  axis  of  the  telescope  by  an  arm  fitting  on  the  cell  of  the  lens. 
This  ipvolved  the  aid  of  an  assistant  to  direct  lamplight  ou  the 
ivory  reflector,  or  the  very 
frequent  change  of  a 
lamp  support.  After- 
wards the  light  from  an 
attached  lamp  was  intro- 
duced through  a  hole  iu 
the  telescope-tubo  and 
thrawn  upon  an  ellipti- 
cal pUine  {generally  dull- 
gilt)  having  its  centre 
part  cut  away  sufiiciently 
to  avoid  interruption  of 
the  cone  of  rays  from  the 
object-glass.  Many  in- 
genious modes  of  sus- 
pending the  lamp  have 
oeen  invented  for  the  pur- 
pose of  securing  a  con-  _.  ■ 
atant  direction  of  its  light  '  *S-  l-*-  ; 
coupled  with  vertirality  of  the  lamp.  One  of  the  best  of  these,  due 
to  Cooke,  is  shown  in  fig.  19.     L  is  the  lamp,  P  a  prism  to  rcflei  t 


irc  clastic,  better  ihapcd,  ui-l 
of  tho  ln.'»ect"to  wcupo.  Tho 
bpBl  wubs  »c  bftvc  scon  were  from  a  oocoon  obtained  -In  Holland,  bot  we  baru 
been  unable  to  aacerluln  tho  name  of  tho  variety  of  epliler. 

*  Ai'fcclandcr  lued  to  apply  two  dropa  of  vamlali  at  ,caoh  end  of  Iila'wcba.  Tic 
nrtt  fixed  onch  extremity  by  a  drop  of-ahrriae  Tanilnii,  and  after  thut  bad  drkif 
ho  aj'iihcd  a  drop  of  cnj.ul  varnish  nenrtr  tiic  centre  of  llie  frnme ;  tho  latter  look 
•  long  time  to  harden,  but  gave  ulllma'ely  a  tnucli  btronger  attachment. 


.M;rC  R  O  M  E  T  E  R 


TLtUMlSATION.] 

Its  light  into  the  tub^  ITTdisk  t6  rcgulrSi"  the  quantity  of  light, 
B  a  disk  with  glasses  to  regulate  the  colour  of  the  light,  b  a 
sorinz  to  clamp  the  disks,  C  the  counterpoise  of  the  lamp,  G  a 
iwise  to  preserve  the  horizontality  of  the  axis  CL.  But  astronomers 
owe  to  the  genius  of  Grubb  the  introduction  of  a  more  efficient 
and  convenient  system,  viz.,  the  performance  of  all  necessary  illu- 
mination of  an  astronomical  telescope  by  a  single  lamp,  and  the 
perfect  control  of  the  illumination  of  the  field  or  webs,  and  the 
reeulation  of  these  as  to  intensity  or  colour  by  simple  motions  from 
the  eye-end.  It  is  impossible  to  speak  too  highly  of  Grubb  s  efforts 
in  this  direction  ;  ^e  has  broken  the  ground  in  this  department  of 
astronomical  engineering,  and  rendered  the  working  of  so  huge  an 
instrument  as  the  Vienna  telescope  of  27  inches  aperture  not  only 
convenient,  but  easier  for  a  single  observer  than  that  of  a  very 
small  telescope  of  the  older  constructions. 

But  in  the  illumination  of  the  field  wires  and  scales  of  a  micro- 
meter Gnibb's  original  method  has  reeently  been  surpassed  by 
one  which  is  due  to  the  Rcpsolds.     We  shaU  therefore  descnbc  the 

Fig.  20  represents  the  eye-end  of  a  telescope.  The  reader  will 
recognize  the  micrometer  (figs.  16  and  17)  previously  described.  L 
is  a  paraffin  lamp  fitting  by  a 
bayonet  joint  into  a  copper  cover 
e.  This  effectually  defends  its 
glass  chimney  against  accident, 
and  protects  the  lamp  from  wind. 
The  simple  means  by  which  this 
lamp  is  made  to  preserve  its  ver- 
ticality  in  all  positions  of  the 
telescope  is  evident  from  the 
figure.  By  this  lamp  alone  the 
bri"ht  wire  or  bright  field  illumi- 
nation is  given  at  pleasure,  and 
with  any  desired  intensity,  simply 
by  movement  of  the  small  pin  p. 

The  position  circle  and  the  head 
of  the  micrometer  are  also  illu- 
minated, as  well  as  the  declina- 
tion circle,  by  the  same  lamp. 
AB  is  a  cylindrical  box,  ending  ^ 
in  a  tiTincated  cone  towards  A.  '■' 
Itisshown,  mid-section,  inaplane 
passing  through  the  telescope  axis, 
in  fig.  21,  where  all  details  un- 
necessai-y  to  the  explanation  of  the 
illumination  are  omitted,  and  pro- 
portion of  parts  is  sacrificed  to 
clearness.  P  is  a  prism  (fig.  21) 
that  rotates  with  the  lamp  and 
reflects  its  li"ht  into  AB.  Tlie 
flame  of  the  lamp  is  in  the  focus 
of  the  lens  !l,  so  that  the  rays 
become  parallel  after  passing 
through   it.     Tliere   is  a   sliding  *^'g-  •*•• 

motion  to  perfect  this  adjustment.  There  is  a  well-polished  flat 
annular  reflector  of  speculum  metal  n-  (fig.  21),  which  reflects  light 
upon  the  double  minor  il  (fig.  20),  whence  it  is  diverted  to  the  two 

opposite  points  on  the  declination  circle  that  are  read  by  micrometer 

microscopes     from 

the     eye-end     (the 

latter    are   omitted 

for  sake    of   clear- 
ness). 
The  little  handle 

at  p'  and  the  dotted 

lines  p':    represent 

an    iris-diaphragm, 

very       ingeniously 

constructed,  mount- 
ed on  a   plate    of 

transparent     glass.  ^ 

There  is  •  flat  ring     ^^Js^^ 

of   brass,    canning       ^^^ 

four     pins,    which 

is    turned    by  the 

handle    p',     in     a 

pl&ne       at      right 

angles       to       Vn. 

These  pins  work  in 

spiral  slot)   cut  in  _.     „. 

four    slides.     Thus  "»•  "'• 

rotation  of  the  riug  causes  the  four  slides  to  approach  or  recede  from 

a  centre.     When  the  handle  p'  is  in  the  middle  of  its  range,  the 

slides  together  form  a  disk  as  large  as  the  hole  in  the  diaphragm  rfrf, 


249 

whence  it  is  diverted  to  a  silvered  reflector  eementcd  on  the  middle 
of  the  inner  surface  of  the  objcct-gbss,  and  is  then  r'^flccted  back 
olon"  the  axis  of  the  telescope  to  illuminate  the  field  at  to.  When 
p'  ispushed  tt  the  other  side  of  its  i-ange  the  slides  approach  and 
oveilai>  at  the  centre,  excluding  liglit  from  n  and  allowing  tt  to  fall 
upon  the  reflector  s  instead.  From  s  the  light  is  thrown  upon  the 
webs  a,  u  by  reflexion  from  a  white  papier  mache  sui  face  laid  on  the 
inside  of  a  thin  hollow  brass  truncated  cone  rx.  The  edge  of  this 
cone  forms  the  circle  seen  within  tt  in  fig.  17.  All  stray  light  is 
prevented  by  the  light-guard  tube  vim,  which  is  attached  to  and 
moves  with  the  rotating  part  of  the  micrometer.  The  result  is  to 
produce  a  symmetrical  illumination  of  the  whole  system  of- webs  in 
a  perfectly  dark  field.  It  is  also  obvious  that  by  placing  /  at  an 
intermediate  position  between  the  centre  and  the  extremes  of  its 
range  any  desired  modification  of  bright  wire  or  bright  field  illu- 
miiuitioii  can  be  obtained  at  pleasure. 

The  li''ht  falling  on  the  papier  mache  hollow  cone  is  intercepted 
at  threo°points  by  prisms,  one  of  which  /i  is  shown  in  section. 
These  prisms  are  inserted  in  the  cylinder  which  carries  the 
foundation  plate  of  the  micrometer  box  and  rotate  with  it.  Two 
of  them  divert  light  npon  the  reflectors  (seen  from  different 
points  of  view  in  figs.  16,  17,  20).  The  third  prism  after  two 
reflexions  (figs.  16,  20)  illuminates  the  micrometer  head.  The 
whole  arrangement  is  in  the  highest  degree  elegant,  and  we  havo 
found  it  most  simple  and  convenient  in  practice.  The  screen  C 
(figs.  20  and  21)— made  of  thin  copper  and  attached  to  AB — effectu- 
ally protects  the  observer's  eye  from  stray  light  fr9m  the  lamp. 

It  has  been  found  essential,  in  bright  field  illumination,  when  the 
highest  accuracy  is  desired,  to  have  the  illuminating  rays  parallel  ■ 
with  the  telescope  axis. 

In  the  best  telescopes  of  the  future  some  plan  like  that  of  Eeri- 
sold's,  above  described,  will  doubtless  be  adopted.  It  is  probable 
also  that  with  the  introduction  of  condensers,  in  conjunction  with 
the  incandescent  carbon  light  in  vacuum,  electricity  will  ultimately 
supersede  the  oil  or  paraffin  lamp  in  illuminating  astronomical 
instruments.  A  small  "  Swan  lamp  "  can  be  placed  anywhere,  is 
unaffected  by  wind,  and  gives  off  comparatively  little  heat.  These 
are  most  valuable  (lualities  for  the  purpose  in  question. 

The  asti-onomer-royal  (Mr  Christie)  has  recently  used  luminous 
paint  to  render  the  measuring  pointer  of  the  Greenwich  spectroscope 
visible  at  night  This  paint,  after  exposure  during  the  day  to  sun- 
light, shines  at  night  mth  a  dull  phosphorescence  sufficient  to  make 
the  micrometer  pointer,  to  which  it  is  applied,  faintly  visible,  and, 
it  is  stated,  with  very  satisfactorj-  results. 

On  the  nse  of  the  filar  micrometer  consult  Struve,  Mensurx  Mknmttricx.  St 
Petersburg.  1837;  Brunnow,  Prartical  and  Spherical  Mtronomt/;  Chouvenel, 
Pracllcal  and  Spherical  Altreiiomy;  Bruimow,  Ailronnmieal  Obserealions  and 
Researches  made  at  Dunsint.  Dublin,  ISTO.  1S73.  1S70 ;  Ball,  ibid.:  kaiser,  Leiden 
Observations:  and  the  papers  of  Dcmbowski  in  the  Astronomische  ^achrichfen 

DoitbU-Image  ilicrometers. 
The  discovciy  of  the  method  of  makin"  measures  by  double, 
images  is  stated  to  have  been  first  suggested  by  Roemer  about  1678.  Roemer. 
But°no  such  suggestion  occnrs  in  the  Basis  Astrotwmix  of  Horre- 
bow  (Copenhagen,  1735),  which  contains  the  only  works  of  Roemer 
that  remain  to  us.  It  wctuUI  appear  that  to  Savary  is  due  the  first 
invention  of  a  micrometer  for  measurement  by  double  image.  His 
hcliometer  (describ- 
ed in  a  paper  com- 
municated to  the 
Royal  Society  in 
1743,  and  printed, 
along  with  a  lettei 
from  Short,  in  Phil,  jj 
Trans.,  1753,  p.  156) 
was  constructed  by 
cutting  from  a  com- 
plete Tens  abed  the 
equal  portions  aghc 
and   acfe    (fig.    22). 

The    segments  gbh  ,    <•     ^  ,     v.„-»» 

and  cfi  SO  formed  were  then  attached  to  the  end  of  a  tube  having 
an  internal  diameter  represente.l  by   the  dotted   circle   (hg.   ii). 
The  width  of  each  of  the  portions  aylir  and  o<-/   cut  away  from 
the  lens  was  made  slightly  greater  than  the  focal 
length  of  lens  x  tangent  of  sun's  greatest  dia- 
meter.    Thus  at  the  focus  two  images  of  the  sun  ' 
were  fonned  neari'y  in  contact  as  in  fig.  24.     The 
small  interval  between  the  adjacent  limbs  was 
then  measured  with  a  wire  micrometer. 

Savary  also  describes  another  form  of  hehometer,  on  the  same  Sawy. 
principle,  in  which  the  segments  aglic  aud  acfr  are   utilized  by 
icmenting  their  edges  gh  and  ./together  (fig.  25),  and  covenng  all 
except  the  portion  indicated  by  the  unshaded  circle.     Savarj  ex- 
presses preference  for  this  second  pla 


iOO 


aud  makes  the  pertinent 


slides  together  form  a  nisk-  as  large  as  tne  noie  m  me  uiapuragn  c.u,      ,.i«»^»  ,  .^.^y.^  .».   JT  ..',;,,  „v»  nf  tt-<l  li^ht  in  the  two 

and  thus  prevent  all  light  from  entering  the  telescope  tufee.     When  remark  that  in  both  these  models     the  raj  s  of  red  l'^'  t  •"  '"^  '"» 

p'  is  pushed  to  one  side  of  its  range  the  slides  move  outivards  leaving  solar  images  will  be  next  to   each   other,  v  ""; '  7''  ;  "'.'"~°i° 

a  square  opening  in  the  centre  so  that  the  light  falls  on  the  prism  H,  sun's  disk  more  easy  to  be  observed  than  tl.eMO..  r  ones. 


16—11' 


250 


MICROMETER 


[double -niAa» 


Fig.  27. 


be  mentions  "  hccr-usc  the  classes  in  tliese  two  sorts  ar*  somewhat 
prisiniuical,  but  mostly  those  of  the  first  model,  which  cjuld 
therefore  bear  no  grwt  charge  "  (magnifying  power). 

A  thiril  niotltl  proposed  by  Sarary  consists  of  two  coaiple;^ 
lenses  of  ^ci^iial  focal  length,  mounted  in  cylinders 
side  by  side,  niid  attached  to  a  strong  brws  pfatQ  (fig. 
26).  Here,  in  order  to  fulfil  the  purposes  of  the  pre- 
vious motlels,  the  distance  of  tlie  centres  of  the  lenses 
from  each  other  should  only  slightly  exceed  the  tan- 

§ent  of  sun's  diameter  x  focal  length  of  lenses, 
avary  dwells  on  the  difficulty  both  of  procuring 
lenses  sufficiently  equal  in  focus  and  of  accurately 
adjusting  nnd  centring  them. 
Bou^uer.  In  the  Mem.  Acad,  dc  Paris,  1748,  Bouguer  de- 
scribes an  instrument  which  he  calls  a  heliometer 
Lalande  in  his  Astronomic  (vol.  ii.  p.  639)  mentions 
such  a  heliometer  which  had  been  in  hia  possession 
from  the  year  1753,  and  of  which  he  gives  a  representation  on 
Plate  XXVIII.,  fi^.  186,  of  the  same  volume.  Bouguer's  helio- 
meter was  in  fact  similar  to  that  of  Savary's 
tlrird  model,  with  the  important  difference 
that,  instead  of  both  object-glasses  being 
fixed,  one  of  them  is  movable  by  a  screw 
provided  with  a  divided  head.  No  auxili- 
ary filar  micrometer  was  required,  as  in 
Savary's  heliometer,  to  measure  the  interval 
between  the  limbs  of  two  adjacent  images 
of  the  sun,  it  being  only  necessary  to  turn 
the  screw  with  the  divided  head  to  change 
the  distance  between  the  object-glasses  tul 
thet^vo  images  of  the  sun  are  in  contact  as 
in  fig.  27.  The  differences  of  the  readings 
of  the  screw,  when  converted  into  arc,  afford 
the  means  of  measuring*  the  variations  of 
the  sun's  apparent  diameter. 
^oUond.  On  the  4th  April  17M  Dollond  com- 
municated a  paper  to  the  Royal  Society  of  London  {Phil.  Tratis., 
vol.  xlviii.  p.  561)  in  which  be  shows  that  a  micrometer  can  be 
much  more  easily  constructed  by  dividing  a  single  object-glass 
through  its  axis  than  by  the  employment  of  two  object-glasses. 
He  points  out — (1)  that  a  telescope  with  an  object- 
glass  BO  divided  still  produces  a  single  image  of 
any  object  to  which  it  may  be  directed,  provided 
that  the  optical  centres  of  the  segments  are  in  coin- 
cidence (i.e.,  provided  the  segments  retain  the  same 
relative  positions  to  each  otiier  as  before  the  glass 
was  cut)  ;  (2)  that  if  the  segments  are  separated 
in  any  direction  two  images  of  the  object  viewed 
will  be  produced  ;  (3)  thi\t  tlie  most  convenient 
direction  of  separation  for  micrometric  purposes  is 
to  slide  tliese  straight  edges  one  along  the  othe 
on  the  margin  (fig.  28)  represents  them:  "for  thus  they  may  be 
moved  without  suffering  any  false  light  to  come  in  between  them  ; 
and  by  this  way  of  removing  them  the  distance  between  their 
centres  may  bo  very  conveniently  measured,  viz.,  by  having  a 
vernier's  division  fixed  to  the  brass  work  that  holds  one  segment, 
so  as  to  slide  along  a  scale  on  the 
plate  to  which  the  other  part  of  the 
glass  is  fitted." 

Dollond  then  points  out  three  dif- 
ferent types  in  which  a  glass  so 
divided  and  mounted  may  be  used  as 
a  micrometer  :— 

*'l.  It  may  be  fixed  at  the  end  of 
a  tube,  of  a  suitable  length  to  its 
focal  distance,  as  an  object-glass, — 
the  other  end  of  the  tube  having  an 
eye*gla5s  fitted  as  nsual  in  astronomi- 
cal telescopes. 

*'  2.  It  may  be  applied  to  the  end  of  a  tube  much 
shorter  than  its  focal  distance,  by  having  another 
convex  glass  within  the  tube,  to  shorten  the  focal 
distance  of  that  which  is  cut  in  two. 

**3.  It  may  be  applied  to  the  open  end  of  a 
reflectin;^  telescope,  either  of  the  Newtonian  or  tlio 
Coflsegiain  construction." 

Dollond  adda  his  opinion  thfit  the  third  type  is 
"much  the  best  and  most  convenient  of  the  three" ; 
yet  it  is  the  first  typo  that  has  survived  the  test  of 
time  and  experience,  and  which  is  in  fact  the  modern 
heliometer 

Fig.  29  illustrates  Dollond'a  divided  object-glass 
heliometer  of  the  third  type.  A  is  the  end  of  the 
reflecting  telescope,  upon  which  the  adapter  B  is  fitted. 


fig.  29. 
B  carries 


el  (not  seen  in  the  figure)  formed  of  a  ring  racked  at  the 
outer  edge,  and  fixed  to  the  lirass  plate  CC,  so  that  a  pinion  moved 
by  the  handle  D  may  tucn  it  into  any  position.     Two  plates  P,  0, 


with  the  attached  bemi-lenses,  move  in  slides  fixed  to  the  plate  CC^ 
—  simuUrtneous  motion,  in  contrary  directions,  b.ing  communicated 
to  them  by  turning  the  handle  E,  which  drives  a  concealed  pinioa 
that  works  in  the  two  racks  seen  in  the  highost  part  of  the  figure. 
The  amount  of  separation  of  the  semi-lenses  is  measured  by  a  scale 
6  inches  long,  subdivided  to  ^t)x  of  an  inch,  and  read  by  a  vernier 
on  thepUter  to^f^th  of  an  inch.  In  pra<nical  use  this  micrometer 
has  never  given  satisfactory  results  (see  Jlosotti  in  the  Efemcridc  of 
Milan  for  1821).  It  must  be  remembered,  however,  that  when 
Dollond  gave  preference  to  this  type  he  had  not  invented  the 
achromatic  object-glass;  his  preference  was  fully  justified  under 
these  circumstances.  So  far  as  we  know  no  heliometer  with  a 
divided  achromatic  object-glass  was  ever  made  by  the  elder  Dollond 
on  the  principle  of  his  first  type.  His  son,  however,  made  what  he 
called  an  object-glass  micrometer,  which  was  a  great  improvement 
on  the  elder  DoUond's  second  type. 

In  the  older  construction  the  brass  mountings  of  the  semi-lensea 
obstructed  the  light  entering  the  telescope  in  proportion  to  their 
separation,  and  the  images  were  so  coloured  as  to  prevent  the  use 
of  any  but  very  low  powers.     In  the  later  construction  the  movable 
segments  are  formed  from  a  negative  achromatic  lens  of  much  larger 
aperture   than   the  object-glass  of  the   telescope   with  which  me 
micrometer  is  employed  ;  and,  for  convenience  in  mounting,  the 
segments  ghh  and  w?/ (fig.  22)  are  removed.     In  the  fine  example 
of  this  instrument  at  the  Royal  Observatory,  Cape  of  Good  Hope, 
the  movable   lenses  consist  of  segments  of  the  shape  gack   and 
tacf{^^.  22)  cut  from  a  complete  negative  achromatic  combination 
of  %\  inches  aperture  and  about  41  feet  fiscal  length,  composed  of 
a  double  concave  flint  lens  and  a  double  convex  crown.     This  ie 
applied  to  an  excellent  achromatic  telescope  of  3^  inches  aperture 
and  42  inches  focal   length.     The   instrument  is   represented   ia 
fig.  30  ;  the  same  letters  indicate  the  analogous  parts  of 
The  frame  CC,  moved  by       _ 
teeth  on  its  outer  edge,  o 
carries  one  of  the  halves* 
G  of  the  lens,  and  a  simi- 
lar frame  with  teeth  car- 
ries the  other  half  F.     A 
scale    %\  inches    long   is 
fastened  like  an  edge-bar 
to  the  frame  of  the  seg- 
ment  0,    and  each,  inch 

is  subdivided  into  twenty  „.     „, 

parts,  which  are  read  otf  ''S-  ^^^ 

by  a  vernier  to  ■m'Duth  of  an  inch,  and,  by  estimation,  this  can  easily 
be  carried  to  ToVffth  or  yii'jr^tb  of  an  inch.  The  two  movable  frames 
are  imbedded  in  a  fixed  plate  HH,  screwed  to  the  adapter  B. 
haying  a  circular  hole  in  its  middle  equal  to  the  diameter  of  the 
object-glass.  The  slide  of  the  segment  G  is  moved  by  tumihg 
the  milled  head  to  the  Tight  of  A,  and  the  other  segment  F  bj 
means  of  a  rack  and  pinion  on  the  opposite  side,  the  latter  being 
turned  from  the  eye-end  by  a  handle  not  seen  in  the  figure.  A 
screw  is  provided  for  clamping  the  slide  of  the  segment  G,  as  it 
is  intended  that  only  the  segment  F  shall  be  moved  in  making  the 
final  bisection.  There  is  an  index  attached  to  the  slide  ofO,  reading 
on  a  rough  scale  engraved  on  the  plate  H,  which  is  obviously- 
intended  for  setting  the  optical  centre  of  the  segment  G  approxi-^ 
mately  as  far  from  the  optical  axis  of  the  telescope  on  one  side  ad 
the  optical  centre  of  the  segment  F  will  be  on  the  other  side  during 
the  intended  measurement.  This  arrangement  not  only  permits  the 
measurement  of  angles  t\vice  as  great  as  would  be  possible  if  one 
segment  were  fixed,  but  is  also  important  in  increasing  the  symmetry 
of  the  measures.  The  vernier  is  placed  at  one  end  of  the  scale 
when  the  optical  centres  of  the  segments  are  in  coincidence,  and  is 
provided  with  screws  at  1,  which  are  intended  for  adjusting  the 
zero  of  the  scale.  The  younger  Dollond  has  in  this  model  retro- 
graded, in  some  respects,  from  the  admirable  example  of  his  father, 
who,  OS  shown  in  fig.  29,  not  only  gave  the  lenses  autoraatifl 
opposite  motion  symmetrically  with  i-espect  to  the  axis  of  the 
telescope,  but  seems  also  to  have  provided  for  entire  eliminatipi^ of 
index  error  by  making  it  possible  to  obser^•e  all  angles  on  opposite 
sides  of  zero— a  precaution  possible  in  the  later  form  only  when 
very  small  angles  are  measured.  Rotation  of  the  micrometer  in 
position  angle  is  provided  for  as  in  the  earlier  form,  but  the  in- 
strument is  not  furnished  with  a  position  circle. 

With  one  of  these  instruments  of  somewhat  smaller  dimensions  TriflS- 
(telescope  2J  inches  aperture  and  3^  feet  frtcus)  Triosnecker  made  a  Decker's 
series  of  measurements  at   the  observatory  of   Vienna  which  has  nieasui^ 
been  recently  reduced  by  Dr  Schur  of  Strasburg  (^Kova  Ada  der  caentB, 
A'^;.   Lcop. -Carol.   Deulschen    Akadanie   dcr   J^'uhirs/orschcr,    xlv. 
No.  3).     The  angle  between  the  stars  (  and  g  Ursae  maj.  (708""55) 
was  measured  on  four  nights  ;  the  probable  error  of  a  measure  on  one 
night  was  ±  0"'44.     Jupiter  was  mensurod  on  eleven  nights  in  the 
months  of  June  and  July  1794  ;  from  these  measures  Schur  derives 
the  values  S[i"'39  and  37""94  for  the  polar  and  equatorial  diameter 
respectively,  at  meaji  distance,  corresponding  with  ft  compression 
1/14"44.     These  agree  satisfactorily  with  the  corrcspondi'ig  valuee 


MICROMETERS. 


JI  I  C  Ft  O  i\i  E  T  E  R 


35"-21,  3r"-60,  1/15-69  afternards  obtained  by  Besscl  (Komgsbcrgcr 
Bcoba<IUunijm,  xix.  102).  From  a  series  of  measures  of  the  angle 
between  japiter's  satellites  and  the  planet,  made  in  June  and  July 
1794  and  in  August  and  September  1795,  Schur  finds  the  mass 


of  Jupiter  ■ 


a  result  which  acconls  perfectly  with 


1048-55±l-45 

the  received  Talue  of  the  mass  derived  from  modern  researches. 
The  probable  errors  for  the  measures  of  one  night  are  ±0"-577, 
±0"-8S9,  ±0"-5i2,  ±1"096,  for  Satellites  I.,  11.,  III.,  and  IV. 
resi>ectively.  It  is  probable  that  Triesnecker  deduced  the  index 
error  from  his  me.isures  of  the  diameter  of  Jupiter,  as,  in  1794, 
the  measures  of  diameter  are  made  on  the  same  nights  with  those 
of  the  measures  of  distance  of  the  satellites,  and  it  is  possible  that 
measures  of  diameter  i^y  have  been  made  in  1795  but  not  pub- 
lished. 

Consiilering  the  accuracy  of  these  measures  (an  accuracy  far  sur- 
passing that  of  any  contemporary  observations),  it  is  somewhat  sur- 
prising that  this  form  of  micrometer  was  never  systematically  used 
in  any  sustained  or  important  astronomical  researches,  although  a 
number  of  instruments  of  the  kind  were  made  by  DoUoud. 
Probably  the  last  example  of  its  employment  is  an  observation  of 
the  transit  of  Mercury  (November  4,  1868)  by  llr  Mann,  at  the 
Royal  Observatory,  Cape  of  Good  Hope  {MonlhUj  KotUca  li.  A.  S., 
vol.  xxix.  p.  197-209).  The  most  iniijortant  part,  however,  which 
this  tyi>o  of  instrument  seems  to  have  played  in  the  history  of 
astronomy  arises  from  the  fact  that  one  of  them  was  in  the  posscs- 
siou  of  Bcssel  at  Konigsberg  during  the  time  when  his  new  obser- 
Bes  el's  ^"'"'T  ''"^re  was  being  built.  In  1812  Bessel  measured  with  it  the 
ijboarva-  '"S'^  between  the  components  of  the  double  star  61  Cygni  and 
..  "  '  observed  the  great  comet  of  1811.  He  also  observed  the  eclipse  of 
the  sun  on  May  4,  1818.  In  the  discussion  of  these  observations 
{K^nigshcrijcr  BcolacJit.,  Abth.  5,  p.  iv)  he  found  that  the  index 
error  of  the  scale  changed  systematically  in  diffej-eut  position  angles 
by  quantities  which  were  independent  of  the  direction  of  gravity 
relative  to  the  position  angle  under  measurement,  but  which 
depended  solely  on  the  direction  of  the  measured  position  angle 
relative  to  a  fixed  mdius  of  the  object-glass.  Bessel  attributed  this 
to  non-homogeneity  in  the  object-glass,  and  determined  with  "^reat 
care  the  ueccssar)-  corrections.  But  he  was  so  delighted  with  the 
general  performance  of  the  instrameut,  with  the  sharpness  of  the 
images,  and  the  possibilities  which  a  kindred  construction  offered 
for  the  nieasni-cment  of  considerable  angles  with  micrometric 
accui-acy,  that  he  resolved,  when  he  should  have  the  choice  of 
a  new  telescope  for  the  observatoiy,  to  secure  some  form  of 
heliouicter. 

Nor  is  it  dilhcult  to  imagine  the  probable  course  of  reasoning 
which  led  Besscl  to  select  the  model  of  his  new  heliometcr.  Why, 
he  might  ask,  should  he  not  select  the  simple  form  of  Bollond's 
first  type  f  Given  the  achromatic  object-glass,  why  should  not  it  be 
divided  '  This  construction  would  give  all  the  advantage  of  the 
j'ounger  DoUond's  object-glass  micrometer  and  more  than  its  sharp- 
ness of  definition,  without  liability  to  the  systematic  errors  which 
may  be  due  to  want  of  homogeneity  of  tiie  objcct-gla.<!S ;  for  the  lenses 
will  not  bo  turned  with  respect  to  each  otlier,-but,  in  measurement, 
will  alw.iys  have  the  same  relation  iu  position  angle  to  the  line 
joining  the  objects  under  observation.  It  is  true  that  the  scale  will 
require  to  be  capable  of  being  read  with  much  gi-eater  accuracy  thon 
luVntli  of  an  inch — for  that,  even  iu  a  telescope  of  10  feet  focus,  would 
corr.'spond  with  2"  of  arc.  But,  after  all,  this  is  no  practical  diffi- 
culty,— for  screws  can  be  used  to  sci'ai-atc  the  lenses,  and,  by  these 
screws,  as  in  a  Gascoignc  micrometer,  the  sejmration  of  the  lenses 
can  be  measured  ;  or  we  can  have  scales  for  this  purpose,  read  by 
injfroscopcs,  like  the  Trougliton'  circles  of  Piazzi  or  I'ond,  or  those 
of  the  Carey  circle,  with  almost  any  required  accuracy. 

Whi  ther  Besscl  communicated  such  a  cotu^e  of  reasoning  to 
rsua-  FraunhofKr,  or  whether  that  great  artist  arrived  iwleiiendently  at 
■**'•  like  conclusions,  we  have  been  unablo  to  ascertain  with  certainty. 
Die  fact  remains  that  before  1820'  Frauuhofer  had  completed 
one  or  more  of  the  five  heliometcrs  (3  inches  aperture  and  39  inches 
focus)  which  have  since  become  historical  instruments.  In  1824 
the  great  Konigsberg  heliometcr  was  comineuccd,  and  it  was  com- 
pleted in  1829. 

To  sum  np  briefly  the  history  of  the  heliometcr.  The  first  appli- 
cation of  the  divided  object-glass  and  the  emi>loyment  of  double 
iuiagei  in  astronomical  measures  is  due  to  Savary  iu  1743.  To 
Bon^jiior  in  1743  is  due  the  true  conception  of  measuivment  by 
ilouldc  image  without  the  au.\iliary  aid  of  a  filar  micrometer,  vi;!., 
by  changing  (he  distance  between  two  object-glasses  of  equal  focus. 
To  UoUi.nd  in  1754  we  owe  the  combination  of  Savary's  idea  of 
the  divided  object-glass  with  Bouguer's  method  of  measurement, 
and  the  construction  of  the  first  nally  practical  hcliomcters.  To 
.  Fraunhofer,  sonic  time  wot  long  previous  to  1S20,  is  ilue,  so  far  as 
He  can  ascertain,  the  constmction  of  the  first  heliometcr  with  an 


,'    '  Tlic  elirlos  by  nvtcbculilcli,  llien  almoit  cidusivcly  uscj  in  Ccmiany,  were 

=  Tile  iU..nieiir  ot  Vemis  win  niootiircd  »lih  one  of  these  lieliomcliM  at  the 
•knnalon  o(  Ilrei!«u  Ijy  UranJo  la  1S2U  llirrlin  Jalnltatli.  UU,  p.  104) 


251 

'.€.,  the  first  beliometer  of  tfaa 


achromatic  divided  object*gIass, 
modem  type, 

DoubU-Iniage  Micrometers  with  Divided  Lenses. 

Various  micrometers  hav&been  iurented  besides  the  heliometer 
for  measuring  by  double  image.  Kamstlen's  dioptric  micrometer 
consists  of  a  divided  lens  placed  in  the  conjugate  focus  of  the  inner- 
most lens  of  the  erecting  eye-tube  of  a  terrestrial  telescope.  The 
inventor  claimed  that  it  would  supersede  the  heliometer,-  hut  it  ha« 
never  done  anj'thing  for  astronomy.  DoUond  claims  the  independ- 
ent invention  and  first  constiuction  of  asimilar  instrument  (Pearson's 
Pradical  Astro^uyiny,  vol.  ii.  p.  182).  Of  these  and  kindred  instru- 
ments only  two  types  have  proved  of  practical  value.  Aniici  of 
Modena  [Mem.  Soc.  ItaL,  xvii.  (1815)  pp.  344-359)  describes  a' 
micrometer  in  which  a  negative  lens  is  inti'oduced  between  the 
eye-piece  and  the  object-glass.  This  lens  is  divided  and  mounteil 
like  a  heliometer  object-glass ;  the  separation  of  the  lenses  produces 
the  required  double  image,  and  is  measured  by  a  screw.  Dawes 
has  very  successfully  used  this  micrometer  in  conjunction  with  a 
filar  micrometer,  and  finds  that  the  precision  of  the  measures  is 
in  this  way  greatly  increased  {Monihly  Notices,  vol.  xviiL  p.  58, 
and  Mem.  R.  A.  S.,  vol.  xxw.  p.  147). 

In  the  improved  form  '  of  Airy's  divided  eye-glass  micrometer 
{Mem.  R.  A.  S.,  vol.  iv.  pp.  199-209),  the  rays  from  the  object' 
glass  pass  successively  through  lenses  as  follows. 


Lens 

DlBtnnce  from 
next  Lens. 

Focal  Les£tk. 

a.  Aq  equtcoHT 

e.  Plar.o-convc 
d.  Piano-con  vea 

. 

P 
2 

arbitrary  =p 
5 
1 

1 

The  lens  b  is  diWded,  and  one  of  the  segments  is  moved  by  a 
micrometer  screw.  The  magnifying  power  is  varied  by  chaugiiig 
the  lens  a  for  another  in  which  p  has  a  different  value.  The  magni- 
fying power  of  the  eye-piece  is  that  of  a  single  lens  of  focus  =  |ji^. 

In  1850  Vab  pointed  out  that  the  other  optical  conditions  could 
be  equally  satisfied  if  the  divided  lens  were  made  concave  instead  of 
convex,  with  the  advantage  of  giving  a  larger  field  of  vie\y  [Monthly 
NoliecSt  vol.  x.  p.  160). 

The  last  improvement  on  this  instrument  is  mentioned  iu  the 
Report  of  the  R.  A.  S.  council,  February  1865.  It  consists  in  the 
introduction  by  Simms  of  a  fifth  lens,  but  no  satiefactory  descrip- 
tion has  ever  appeared-  There  is  only  one  practical  published"* 
investigation  of  Airy's  micrometer  that  is  woi-thy  of  mentioji, 
viz.,  that  of  Kaiser  {Annalai  dcr  Stennvarte  in  Leiden^  iii.  pp. 
111-274).  The  reader  is  referred  to  that  paper  for  an  exhaus- 
tive history  and  discussion  of  the  instrument.'  It  is  somewhat 
surprising  that,  after  Kaiser's  investigations,  observers  should  con- 
tinue, as  many  have  done,  to  discuss  their  observations  with  this 
instrument  as  if  the  screw-value  were  constant  for  all  angles. 

Stciulieil  (Jounutl  Sava}U  de Munich,  2St\i  February  1843) describes  Stein- 
a  "  hcliometre-oculaire*'  which  he  made  for  the  great  Pulkowa  re-  heil's  I 
fi-actor,  the  result  of  consultations  between  himself  aud  the  elder  ocular 
Struvc.     It  is  essentially  the  same  iu  principle  as  Amici's  micro-  raicro-j 
meter,  except  that  the  divided  lens  is  an  achromatic  positive  instead  meterj 
of  a  negative  lens.     Stmve  (Description  de  I'ObscrDatoirc  Central  de 
Pnlkowcty  pp.  196,  197)  adds  a  few  remarks  to  Stcinheil's  descrip- 
tion, iu  which  he  states  that  the  images  have  not  all   desirable 
Srecision, — a   fault  perhaps  inevitable   in    all  micrometers  with 
ividcil  lenses,  niid  which  is  probably  in  this  case  aggravated  by 
the  fact  tliat  tlie  rays  falling  upou  the  divided  lens  have  consider- 
able convergence.     He,  however,  successfully  employed  the  instru- 
ment iu  measuring  double  stars,  so  close  as  1"  or  2",  and  using  a 
power  of  300   diameters,  with  results   that  agreed  satisfactorily 
amongst  themselves  and  with  those  obtained  with  the  filar  micro- 
meter.    If  Struvc  had  emjiloyed  a  properly  proportioned  double 


For  dcsorii»tlon  of  ilic  earliest  fomi  «« 
■enteich  OOseicatioUf.  1840. 

iderstand  tliat  a  very  thoroiigli 


Cambridge  Pftil.  Tram.,  vol.  Ii. 


111(1 


Igarlon  of  Aii-j-'n  doublc-inioge 
micrometer  used  by  Dr  Copclaiid  at  .Mauiiiiua  on  Lord  Lindsay's  expedition  has 
U-cn  made  by  him,  and  ^^ill  soon  be  published. 

*  D.iwes  OfoMt/ifj/  A'otifes.  January  1808,  aud  ^/em.  R.  A.  S.,  vol.  xxxv.  p.  150) 
has  su^gcstfd  and  used  u  valttablo  iiuprorenient  for  producing  round  ImJKt\ 
instead  of  tlie  eioncaicd  imuKCs  wUleti  are  otherwise  inevitable  when  the  rays 
j-ass  tlirougli  a  divided  lens  of  which  tlie  optical  centics  are  not  in  coincidence. 
vi7.,  *'  tlic  Introduction  of  a  diaphraj^  iiaving  two  circular  apertuies  toncliiiic 
each  other  in  a  point  coinciding  with  the  line  of  eolllmatlon  of  the  telescope,  and 
the  diameter  of  each  aperture  exactly  equal  to  the  semidiumclcr  of  the  cone  cf 
raya  at  the  distiincc  of  the  diaphragm  from  the  focal  point  of  the  object -glnss." 
Pnvetically  the  difficulty  of  making  tliese  diaphragms  for  the  different  powers  of 
the  exact  required  eqnallty  is  Insuperable,  bur.  If  the  obsen-er  Is  content  to  lose 
a  eertnin  amount  of  light,  wc  sec  no  re.ison  why  lliey  mny  not  readily  be  made 
sliphtly  less.  Dawes  found  the  best  metliod  for  the  purpcse  iu  qutrstlon  was  to 
limit  the  aperture  of  the  obji-ct-glass  by  a  diaphmgm  having  a  double  circular 
flpeilurc.  phielng  the  line  Joining  the  centres  of  the  circles  approximately  in  the 
position  angle  under  meaauremeut,  Duwes  successfully  employed  the  doublo 
chcular  aperture  also  with  Amlcl's  micrometer.  Tlie  present  writer  has  succe«>- 
fuUy  used  &  simitar  plan  in  mcasuiing  position  3n;:les  of  aCentaurl  with  rh«  helio-' 
meter,  viz.*,  by  placing  circular  diaphragms  on  the  two  segmcuts  of  the  object- 
■dass 


252. 


M;I-C  R  O  M  E  T  E  K 


[heijoiubtkb^ 


cjrcular  ciftpnngm,  fixed  Bymmetrically  with  the  axis  of  the  telescope" 
in  froDt  of  *he  divided  lens  and  tuniij^  with  the  micronieter,  it 
is  probable  that  .his.  report  on  the  instrument  would  hare  been 
«tiil  more  favoMable:^  This  particulaj  instnunent  has  historical 
interest,  having '  lell  .Struve  to  some  of  those  criticisms  of  the 
Palkowa  heliometer  w£ich  (jltimatelj  bore  such  valuable  fruit  (see 

below).      ____  

^EamsJen  {Phil,  Trans'/  voL  lii,  p,  419)  has  suggested  the 
division  of  the  small  speculum  of  a  Cassegrain  telescope  and  the 
production  of  double  image  by  micrometric  rotation  of  the  semi- 
specula  in  the  plane  passiBg  through  their  axis.  Brewster  {Ency. 
jBrii.,  8th  ed.,  VoL  liv.  p.  749)  proposes  a  plan  on  a  like  principle, 
by  dividing  the  plane  mirror  of  a  Newtonian  telescope.  A^in, 
in  an  ocular  heliometer  by  Steinheil  double  image  is  similarly 
produced  by  a  divided  prism  of  total  reflexion  placed  in  parall^ 
rays.  But  practically  uiese  last  three  methods  are  failures.  In 
the  last  the  field  is  full  of  false  light,  and  it  is  not  possible  to  give 
eufficiently  minute  and  steady  separation  to  the  images  ;  and  there 
are  of  necessity  a  collimator,  two  prisms  of  total  reflexion,  and  a 
small  telescope  through  which  the  rays  must  pass ;  consequently 
there  is  great  loss  of  light. 

Micrometers  Depending  on  Double  Bxfractioit. 
Biochoa'B^To'th'e^Abbe  Kochon  {Jour,  de  Pkys.,  liiL,  1801,  pp.  169-198) 
micro-      is  due  the  happy  idea  of  applying  the  two  images  formed  by  double 
meter       refraction  to  tHe  construction  of  a  micrometer.     He  fell  upon  a 
most  ingenious  plan  of  doubling  the  amount  of  double  refraction  of 
a  prism  by  using  two  prisms  of  rock-crystal,  so  cut  out  of  the  solid 
as  to  give  each  the  same  quantity  of  double  refraction,  and  yei  to 
double  the  quantity  "in  the  effect  produced.     The  combination  so 
■formed  is  known  as  Eochon's  prian.     Such  a  prism  he   placed 
between  the  object-glass  and  eye-piece  of  a  telescope.     The  separa- 
tion of  the  images  increases  as  the  prism  is  aj^roached  to  the  object- 
glass,  and  diminishes  as  it  is  approached  towards  the  eye-piece. 

Ai^go  {Compics  Bendus,  xxiv.,  1847,  pp.  40U-402)  found  that 
in  Eochon's  micrometer,  when  the  prism  was  approached  close  to 
the  eye-piece  for  the  measurement  of  very  small  angl^  the 
emallest  imperfections  in  the  crystal  or  its  surfaces  were  incon- 
veniently magnified.  He  therefore  selected  for  any  particular 
measurement  such  a  Eochon  prism  as  when  fixed  betw-een  the  eye 
and  the  eye-piece  {i.e.,  where  a  sunshade  is  usually  placed)  would, 
combined  with  the  normal  eye-piece  employed,  bring  the  images 
about  to  be  measured  nearly  in '  contact.  He  then  altered  the 
magnifying  power  by  sliding  the  field  lens  of  the  eye-piece  (which 
was  fitted  with  a  slipping  tube  for  the  purpose)  aloEg  tiie  eye-tube, 
till  the  images  were  brought  into  contact.  By  a  scale  attached  to 
the  sliding  tube  the  magnifying  power  of  the  eye-piece  was  deduced, 
and  this  combined  with  the  angle  of  the  prism  employed  gave  the 
angle  measured.  \t  p"  is  the  refracting  angle  of  the  prism,  and  n 
jthe  magnifying  power  of  the  eye-piece;  Sien  jfjn  will  be  the  distance 
(observed.  Arago  made  many  measures  of  the  diameters  of  the 
.planets  with  such  a  micrometer. 

L  Dollond  {Phil.  Trans.,  1821,  pp.  101-103)  describes  a  double- 
I  image  micrometer  of  his  own  invention  in  which  a  sphere  of  rock- 
\  crystal  is  substituted  for  the  eye-lens  of  an  ordinary  eye-piece.  I  j  ' 
i^S  instnunent  ffiga.  31,  32)  a  k  ftie  sphere,  placed  in  half-holes  c  u 


OTCTCome  by  Dollond;  and  in  the  hands  of  Dawes  {Mem.  R.  A.  8.] 
Exzv.  p.  144  sq.)  such  instnm[ient8  have  done  valuable  eervice.^ 
They  are  liable  to  the  objection  that  their  employment  is  limited 
to  the  measurement  of  very  small  angles,  viz.,  IS"  or  14"  when  tha 
magnifying  power  is  100,  and  varying  inversely  as  the  power.  Yet 
the  beautifaj  images  which  these  micrometers  give  permit  the" 
measurement  of  very  diffirult  objects  as  &  check  on  measures  mih 
the  parallel- wire  micrometer. 

7%e  Modem  Mdiometer. 
The  Konigsberg  heliometer  is  represented  in  fig.  38.     "So  part  of  K6irig» 
the  equatorial  mounting  is  shown  in  the  figure,  as  it  resembles  in  berg  ^ 
every  respect  the  usual  Fratmhofer  mounting.      An  adapter  h  is  helio* 
fixed  on  ' 


Rg-  SL  Fig.  S2. 

^  axis  tt,  BO  thaT  when  its  principal  axis  is  parallel  to  the  axis  of 
the  telescone  it  gives  only  one  image  of  the  otject     In  a  direction 
parpen dictuar  to  that  axis  it  must  be  so  placed  that  when  it  is 
moved  by  rotation  of  the  axis  hb  the  separation  of  the  images  shall 
be  parallel  to  that  motion.     The  ancle  of  rotation  is  measured  on 
the  graduated  circle  C.     The  angle  between  the  objects  measured 
is  — r  sin  2^,  where  r  is  a  constant  to  be  determined  for  each  mag-  I 
nifying  power  employed,*  and  e  the   angle   through   which  the  i 
sphere  has  been  turned  from  zero  {i.e.,  from  coincidence  of  its  prin- 
cipal axis  with  that  of  the  telescope).    'The  maximum  separation 
is  consequently  at  45*  from  zero.     The  measures  can  be  made  on  j 
both  sides  of  zero  for  eliminating  index  error.     Tbere  are  consider-  ; 
table  difficulties  of  construction,  bat  these  have  been  Bucceasfully  ' 

VI  DoDond  pnnldea  for  chonflsg  the  power  hj  tlldlug  tbo  leu  4  nearer  to  or  | 
farther  fron.  r»  * 


tube,  mSde  of  wood, 
in  Fraunhofer's  nsmd 
fashion.  To  this 
adapter  is  attached  a 
fiat  circular  flange  h. 
The  slides  •  earning 
the   segments   of  the 

divided      object-glass  _.     ^o 

are    mounted     on    a  xig.  sa. 

plate,  which  is  fltted  and  grotmd  to  rotate  mnoothly  on  the  fianga 
A.  Eotation  is  communicated  by  a  pinion,  turned  by  the  handle 
c  (concealed  in  the  figure),  which  works  in  teeth  cut  on  the  edga 
of  the  flange  h.  The  counterpoise  %c  balances  the  head  about 
its  av^«  of  rotation.  The  slides  are  moved  by  the  screws  a  and  ft,' 
the  divided  heads  of  which  serve  to  measure  the  separation  of  the 
segments.  These  screws  are  turned  from  the  eye-end  by  bevelled 
wheels  and  pinions,  the  latter  connected  with  the  handles  o',  h'. 
The  reading  micrometers  e,  f  also  serve  to  measure,  independently, 
t^e  separation  of  the  segments,  by  scales  attached  to  the  slides; 
snch  measurements  can  be  employed  as  a  check  on  those  made  by 
the  screws.  The  measurement  of  position  angles  is  provided  for 
\fj  a  graduated  circle  attached  to  the  head.  There  is  also  a  position 
circle,  attached  at  vi  to  the  eye-end,  provided  with  a  slide  to  move 
the  eye-piece  radially  from  "^e  axis  of  the  telescope,  and  with  a 
micrometer  to  measure  the  distance  of  an  object  irom  that  axis. 
The  ring  which  carries  the  supports  of  the  handles  o',  h\  c  if 
capable  of  a  certain  amount  of  rotation-  on  the  rube.  The  weight 
of  the  handles  and  their  supports  is  balanced  by  the  counteipoi&e  s. 
This  ring  is  necessary  in  order  to  allow  the  rods  to  follow  the 
micrometer  heads  when  the  position  angle  is  changed.  Complete 
rotation  of  the  head  is  obviously  impossible  because  of  the  inter- 
ference ctf  the  declination  axis  with  the  rods,  and  therefore,  in  some 
angles,  objects  cannot  be  measured  in  two  poEitions  of  the  circle. 
The  object-glass  has  an  aperture  of  6|  inches,  and  102  inches  foca-* 
length. 

There  are  three  methods  in  which  this  heliometer  can  be  used. 

First  Method. — One  of  the  segments  is  fixed  in  the  udrof  th. 
telescope,  and  the  eye-piece  is  also  placed  in  the  axis.  Measures 
are  made  with  the  moving  segment  displaced  alternately  on  oppo^te 
sides  of  the  fixed  segment. 

Second  Method.— Out  segment  is  fixed,  and  the  measures  are 
made  as  in  the  first  method,  excepting  thai  the  eye-piece  is  placed 
symmetrically  with  respect  to  the  images  under  meaanrement. 
For  this  purpose  the  position  angle  of  the  eye-piece  micrometer  is 
set  to  that  of  the  head,  and  the  eye-piece  is  displaced  from  the 
axis  of  iht  tube  (in  the  direction  of  the  movable  segmenJ)  by  as 
amount  equal  to  half  the  angle  under  measurement 

Third  Method. — The  eye-piece  is  fixed  in  the  ^is,  and. the 
segments  are  symmetrically  displaced  from  the  axis  each  by  a** 
amount  equal  to  half  the  angle  measured. 

Of  these  methods  Bessel  generally  employed  the  first  becanae  of 
its  simplicity,  notwithstanding  that  it  involved  a  resettixj^  of  the 
right  ascension  and  declination  of  the  axis  of  the  tube  with  each 
reversal  of  the  eegments.  The  chief  obiections  to  the  method  are 
that,  as  one  star  is  in  the  axis  c&  the  telescope  and  the  other  dis- 
placed from  it,  the  images  are  not  both  in  focus  of  the  eye-piece,' 
and  the  rays  from  the  two  stars  do  not  make  the  same  angle  with 
the  optical  axis  of  each  aegment  Thus  the  two  images  under 
measurement  are  not  defined  with  equal  sharpness  and  symmetry. 
The  second  method  is  free  from  the  objection  of  non -coincidence  in 
focus  of  the  imagea,  but  is  more  troublesome  in  practice  from  t^s 
necessity  for  frequent  readjustment  of  the  position  of  the  eye-piece. 
The  third  method  is  the  most  symmetrical  of  all,  both  in  ohaer- 
ration  and  reduction  ;  but  it  was  not  employed  by  Bessel,  on  the 
gi-ound  that  it  involved  the  determination  of  the  errors  of  two 
screws  instead  of  one.  On  the  other  hand  it  is  not  neoeaaaiy  to 
reset  the  telescope  after  each  reversal  of  the  segment*.* 

•  '  Tlif  aiitmncM  of  thr  ortical  ccaitref  of  tht  ncpmentt  (jont  thr  ey*-pi«je  «rt  tB 
thU  mot liod  a«  ]  :  sociint  a[  the  Knglf  under  moutiuTcmetiL  Id  Dowel'*  boUoircter 
ClilB  would  ■motinl  to  b  dl&erencc  of  rifirtb  of  no  IncL  vlteo  an  an^lc  of  V  It 
nicasu'ed.  For  two  dcfrtoeB  ihc  diOu  cnct  would  nmoimt  to  nearlr  ^^tb  a'  U 
loch.     Ue*»el  cannncd  his  nteBBum  to  distnncc*  coiuldermbly  lc«  then  1  . 

*  Is  criticizing  Bc««ul>  clioin  of  mcUiuds  and  comirterlne  the  Id*  of  time 
iSTolred  Is  each,  II  miui  be  ruaeoibcrcC  ituii  Fraunlioler  provided  nc  aeaci  ff 


HEUOMBTEB.] 


MICROMETER 


253 


When  Bcssel  ordered  the  Konigsberg  heliotneter,  he  was  anxious 
to  have  the  segmenta  made  to  move  in  cylindrical  slides,  of  which 
the  radius  should  be  eoual  to  the  focal  length  of  the  object-glass. 
Fraunhofer,  however,  aid  not  execute  ibis  wish,  on  the  ground 
that  the  mechanical  difficulties  were  too  great 

Wichmann  states  {Kimigsb.  Bcobach.,  xxx.  p.  4)  that  Bessel  had 
indicated,  by  notes  in  his  handbooks,  the  following  points  which 
should  be  kept  in  mind  in  the  construction  of  future  he  lie  meters  :— 
(1)  The  segments  should  move  in  cylindrical  slides  ;^  (2)  the  screw 
should  be  proUcU,d  from  dust;*  (3)  the  zero  of  the  position  circle 
should  not  be  so  liable  to  change  ;'  (4)  the  distance  of  the  optical 
centres  of  the  segments  should  not  change  in  different  position 
angles  or  otherwise ;  *  (5)  the  points  of  the  micrometer  screws  should 
rest  on  ivory  plates  ;  *  (6)  there  should  be  an  apparatus  for  changing 
the  screen." 

The  elder  Struve,  in  describing  the  Pulkowa  helicmieter,^  made 
by  Merz  in  1839  on  the  model  of  Bessel's  heliometer,  submits  the 
following  suggestions  for  its  improvement  ;* — (1)  to  give  automatic- 
ally to  uie  two  segments  simultaneous  equal  and  opposite  move- 
ment;* and  (2)  to  make  the  tube  of  brass  instead  of  wood;  toattach 
the  heliometer  head  firmly  to  this  tube;  to  place  the  eye-piece  pei-ma- 
nently  in  the  axis  of  the  telescope ;  and  to  fix  a  strong  cradle  on  the 
end  of  the  declination  axis,  in  which  the  tube,  with  the  attached 
head  and  eye-piece,  could  rotate  on  its  axis. 

Both  suggestions  are  important.  The  first  is  originally  the  idea 
of  DoUona^(fig.  29) ;  its  advantages  were  overlooked  by  his  son 
(description  of  fig.  30),  and  it  seems  to  have  been  quite  forgotten 
till  rcsuggested  by  Stnive.  But  the  method  is  not  available  if  the 
separation  is  to  be  measured  by  screws  ;  it  is  found,  in  that  case, 
that  the  dii'ection  of  the  final  motion  of  turning  of  the  screw  must 
always  be  such  as  to  produce  motion  of  the  segment  against  gravity, 
otherwise  the  "loss  of  time"  is  apt  to  be  variable.  Thus  the 
simple  connexion  of  the  two  screws  by  cog-wheels  to  give  them 
automatic  opposite  motion  is  not  an  available  method  unless  the 
separation  oi  the  segments  is  independently  measured  by  scales. 

Struve*a  second  suggestion  has  been  adopted  in  nearly  all  succeed- 
ing heliometers.  It  permits  complete  rotation  of  the  tube  and 
measurement  of  all  angles  in  reversed  positions  of  the  circle  ;  the 
handles  that  move  the  slides  can  be  brought  down  to  the  eye-end, 
inside  the  tube,  and  consequently  piade  to  rotate  with  it ;  and  the 
position  circle  may  be  placed  at  the  end  of  the  cradle  next  the  eye- 
end  where  it  is  convenient  of  access.  Struve  also  points  out  that 
by  attaching  a  fine  scale  to  the  focussing  slide  of  the  eye-piece,  and 
knowing  the  coefficient  of  expansion  of  the  brass  tube,  tne  means 
would  be  provided  for  detemuning  the  absolute  change  of  the  focal 
length  of  the  object-glass  at  any  time  by  the  simple  process  of 
focusding  on  a  double  star.  This,  with  a  knowledge  of  the  tempera- 
ture of  the  screw  or  scale  and  its  coefficient  of  expansion,  would 
enable  the  change  of  screw  value  to  be  determined  at  any  instant. 
Or,  if  we  suppose  the  temperature  of  the  instrument  to  be  the 
same  in  all  its  parts,  the  cnanged  scale  value  becomes  simply  a 
function  of  the  reading  of  the  focal  scale. 
^*J^  It  is  probable  tliat  the  Bonn  heliometer  was  in  course  of  con- 

""*^  struction  before  these  suggestions  of  Struve  were  published  or  dis- 
*6ter»  cussed,  since  its  construction  resembles  that  of  the  Konigsberg  and 
Pulkowa  instruments.  Its  dimensions  are  siiuilar  to  those  of  the 
former  instrument.  Bessel,  having  been  consulted  by  the  cele- 
brated statesman  Sir  Robert  Peel,  on  behalf  of  the  RadclifTe  trus- 
tees, as  to  what  instrument,  added  to  the  RadclifFe  Observatory, 


reading  the  tcrews  or  eten  the  bcaJs  rrom  the  eye-end.  Bessel's  practice  was  to 
iincla.Tip  in  declination,  lower  and  read  off  the  head,  and  Uien  restore  the  telc- 
Bcope  to  Its  former  dccUoatlon  rcadinff.  the  clocltwork  meanwhile  following  the 
stars  In  right  ascension.  The  setting  of  both  lenses  sjumietricallT-  would,  under 
such  circumstances,  be  TCry  tedious. 

'  Tliis  most  important  Improvement  would  permit  any  two  stars  under  measure- 
ment each  to  be  rlewed  In  the  optical  axis  of  eaih  segment.  The  optical  centres 
of  the  segmenis  would  alw  remain  at  the  same  distance  from  the  eye  piece  at  all 
angles  of  separation.  Thus,  In  measuiing  the  largest  aa  well  as  the  smallest 
aDRles,  the  Images  of  both  stars  would  be  equally  B>'mmetrlcal  and  equally  well 
in  focus.  Modern  (icliometera  made  with  cylindiicul  slides  measure  angles  over 
two  degrees,  the  images  remaining  as  sharp  and  perfect  as  wlien  the  smallest 
angles  are  measured. 

'  Beaeel  found,  in  (.ooise  of  time,  that  the  original  corrections  for  the  errors  of 
his  screw  were  no  longer  apj>licabtc.  He  ci.nsidei-ed  that  the  changes  were  due  to 
wear,  which  would  be  much  lessened  if  the  screws  were  protected  from  dust, 

•  The  tube,  being  of  wood,  was  probably  liable  to  warp  and  twist  in  a  very 
nncertaln  way. 

•  We  hsTo  been  unable  to  (hid  any  published  druwing  showbig  how  the  seg- 
ments are  fitted  In  their  ceUs. 

5  We  have  been  unable  to  ascertain  the  reasons  which  led  Bessel  to  choose 
frory  planes  for  the  end-bearing*  ol  his  screws.  He  actxiallv  Introduced  them  in 
the  KOnlgsberg  heliometer  in  1840.  and  they  were  renewed  in  184S  and  1850, 

•  A  screen  of  wire  gause,  placed  in  front  of  the  segment  thronch  which  the 
fainter  star  Is  vie ned,  was  employed  by  Be&acl  to  tqualize  the  brilliancy  of  the 
fmagca  under  obsers-ation.  An  ari-angement,  aftciwards  described,  has  been 
fitted  in  modem  heliometers  for  placing  the  screen  In  front  of  either  segment  by 
a  handle  at  the  eye-end. 

'  This  heliometer  resembles  Bessel's,  except  that  its  foot  Is  a  solid  block  of 
granite  hi8U:ad  of  the  ill-concelrcd  wooden  structure  that  supported  his  instrtl- 
ment.     The  object-glass  la  of  7-4  Inches  aperture  and  123  inches  focus. 

•  Detcription  de  f  OHe>xatoii'«  c.  niral  de  Pultoiea,  p.  206. 

•  Stelnheil  applied  such  motion  to  a  double-image  micremeter  mod©  for  StniTe. 
This  instrument  suggested  to  StruTe  the  above-mentioned  idea  of  employing  a 
almllar  motion  for  the  hdioir  sicr.  ■-  *    » 


would  probably  most  promote  the  advancement  of  astronomy,' 
stiongly  advised  the  selection  of  a  heliometer.  The  order  for  toe 
instrument  was  given  to  the  Bepsolds  in  1840,  but  *'variotis  circum- 
stances, for  which  the  makers  are  not  responsible,  contributed  to 
delay,  the  completion  of  the  instrument,  which  was  not  delivered 
before  the  winter  of  1848.*'"  The  building  to  receive  it  was  com- 
menced in  March  1849  and  completed  in  the  end  of  the 'same  year. 
This  splendid  instrument  has  a  superb  object-glass  of  74  inches 
aperture  and  126  inches  focal  length.  The  makers  availed  them- 
selves of  Bessel's  suggestion  to  make  the  segments  move  in  cylin- 
drical slides,  and  of  Struve's  to  have  the  head  attached  to  a  brass 
tube  ;  the  eye-piece  is  set  permanently  in  the  axis,  and  the  whole 
rotates  in  a  cradle  attached  to  the  declination  axis.  They  provided 
a  splendid,  rigidly  mounted,  equatorial  stand,  fitted  with  every 
luxury  in  the  way  of  slow  motion,  and  scales  for  measuring  the 
displacement  of  the  segments  were  read  by  powerful  micrometei* 
from  the  eye-end.*^  It  is  somewhat  curious  that,  though  Struve'ft 
second  suggestion  was  adopted,  his  first  was  overlooked  by  the 
makers.  But  it  is  still  more  curious  that  it  was  not  afterwards  carried 
out,  for  the  communication  of  automatic  symmetrical  motion  to 
both  segments  only  involves  a  simple  alteration  previously  de- 
scribed. But,  as  it  came  from  the  hands  of  the  makers  in  1849,  the 
Oxford  heliometer  was  incomparably  the  most  powerful  and  perfect 
instrument  in  the  world  for  the  highest  order  of  micrometric 
research.  It  so  remained,  unrivalled  in  every  respect,  till  1873;  it 
remains  still,  optically,  the  most  powerful  heliometer  in  the  world; 
and,  with  a  few  alterations,  it  might  almost  rival  the  most  recent 
instruments  in  practical  convenience  and  accuracy.  These  altera- 
tions, all  of  which  could  be  made  without  great  difficulty,  are  the 
following  : — 

(a)  Beyond  the  automatic  symmetrical  motion  above- described, 
the  instrument  should  be  fitted  with  means  for  adjusting  the  screeoa 
from  the  eye-end  (see  footnote  •  in  last  column). 

(6)  The  arrangement  of  the  scales  should  be  changed.  At  present 
both  scales  are  read  separately  by  separate  micrometers,  each 
relative  to  a  separate  fiducial  L'ne.  "What  the  observer  requires  is 
the  difference  of  the  readings  of  the  two  scales,  and  this  can  obvi- 
ously be  most  quickly  and  accurately  obtained  if  the  edges  of  the 
two  scales  are  brought  together,  and  both  axe  read,  relatively  to 
each  other,  by  the  same  micrometer, 

(c)  The  unsatisfactory  motion  in  position  angle  should  be  replaced 
by  the  action  of  a  pinion  (attached  to  the  cradle)  in  the  teeth  of  ft 
wheel  (attached  to  the  tube)." 

(d)  The  position  circle  should  be  read  by  telescopes  or  microscopes 
attached  to  the  cradle,  and  accessible  from  the  eye-end. 

(c)  It  would  add  greatly  to  the  rapidity  of  work  ard  the  ease  of 
the  observer  if  a  small  declination  circle  were  attached  to  the  cross- 
head,  capable  of  being  read  from  the  eye-end. 

As  the  transit  of  Venus  of  1874  approached,  preparations  were 
set  on  foot  by  the  German  Government  in  good  time  ;  a  commission 
of  the  most  celebrated  astronomers  was  appointed,  and  it  was  re- 
solved that  the  heliometer  should  be  the  instrument  chiefly  relied 
on.  The  four  long-neglected  small  heliometers  made  by  Fraunhofer 
were  brought  into  requisition.  Fundamental  alterations  were  made 
upon  them: — their  wooden  tubes  were  replaced  by  tubes  of  metal; 
means  of  measuring  the  focal  point  were  provided  ;  s)*mmetrical 
motion  was  given  to  the  slides  ;  scales  da  each  slide  were  provided 
instead  of  screws  for  measuring  the  separation  of  the  segments,  and 
both  scales  were  read  by  the  same  micrometer  microscope ;  a 
metallic  thermometer  was  added  to  determine  the  temperature  of 
the  scales.  These  small  instruments  have  since  done  adrairabla 
work  in  the  hands  of  Schur,  Hartwig,  Kustner,  and  Elkio. 

The  Russian  Government  ordered  three  new  heliometers  (eacn  of  Ruaslai 
4  inches  aperture  and  5  feet  focal  length)  from  the  Repsolds,  and  the  helio- 
de&ign  for^eirconstmclion  was  superintended  by  Struve,  Auwers,  mtterat 


Fig.  34. 
and  Winnecke,  the  last-named  making  the  necessary  experiments  at^ 
Carlsruhe.     Fig.  34  represents  the  tj'pe  of  instnunent  which  re' 

'.0  Manuel  Juhnson,  il.A.,  RadclJBe  observer,  Aitronomtail  Ob$ervation*  made 
at  the  RadeUffe  Observatory,  Oxford,  in  the  year  1&50,  Introduction,  p.  lit. 

H  The  illuminadon  of  these  scales  Is  interesting  as  being  the  flr« application  of 
electricity  to  the  Illumination  of  astronomical  instruments  Thin  plntinum  wh^ 
was  rendered  Incandescent  by  a  voltaic  current ;  a  small  Swan  light  and  condeaaec 
would  probably  now  be  found  more  satisfactory. 

13  This  has  been  recently  canled  out  by  Stone,  the  prcKnt  BadiPffe  obtem^ 
00  GUI' I  niggestlon 


254 


MICROMETER 


l;UEUOilETEIt. 


r.ora 

Liud- 


hnUo- 
oieter. 


salted  from  their  labours.  The  brass  tube,  strengthened  at  the 
beariDg  points  by  strong  truly-tmned  cojlars,  rotates  in  the  cast- 
iron  cradle  q  attached  to  the  declinatiou  axis,  a  is  the  eye-piece 
fixed  in   that  ar      b  the   micrometer  for  reading   both  scales. 


Fig.  35. 
e,  d  are  telescopes  for  reading  the  position  circle  p^  e  the  handle 
for  quick  motion  in  position  angle,  /the  slow  motion  in  position 
angle,  g  the  handle  for  changing  the  separation  of  the  segments 
by  acting  on  the  bevel-wheel  ^  (fig.  35).  A,  is  a  milled  head  con- 
nected by  a  rod  with  h'  (fig.  35),  for  the 
purpose  of  interposing  at  pleasure  the 
prism  TT  in  the  axis  of  the  reading  micro- 
meter; this  enables  the  observer  to  view 
the  graduations  on  the  face  of  the  metallic 
thermometer  tt  (composed  of  a  rod  of  brasa 
and  a  rod  of  zinc),  i  is  a  milled  head 
connected  with  the  wheel  i'i'  (fig.  35),  and 
afi'ords  the  means  of  placing  the  screen  s 
(fig.  34),  counterpoised  by  w  over  either 
half  of  the  object-glass,  k  clamps  the 
telescope  in  declination,  n  clamps  it  in 
right  ascension,  and  the  handles  m  and 
I  provide  slow  motion  in  declination  and 
right  ascension  respectively. 

The  details  of  the  interior  mecnanism 
of  the  "head"  will  be  almost  evident 
from  fig.  35  without  description.  The. 
screw,  turned  by  the  wheels  at  g\  acts  in 
a  toothed  arc,  whence,  as  showu  in  the 
figure,  equal  and  opposite  motion  is  com- 
municated to  tho  slides  by  the  jointed 
rods  V,  V.  The  slides  are  kept  firmly 
down  to  their  bearings  by  the  rollers 
r,  r,  r,  r,  attached  to  axes  which  are,  in 
the  middle,  vei-y  strong  spiings.  Side- 
shake  is  prevented  by  the  screws  and 
pieces  k,  k,  k,  k.  Th^  scales  are  at  7i,  n  ; 
they  are  fastened  only  at  the  middle,  and 
arc  kept  down  by  the  brass  pieces  t,  t. 

A  similar  heliometer  was  made  by  the 
Repsolds  to  the  order  of  Lord  Lindsay  c\ 
for  his  Mauritius  expedition  in  1874.  It 
dilfered  only  from  the  three  Russian  in- 
struments in  havin^j  a  mounting  by  the 
Cookes  in  which  tho  declination  circle 
roads  from  tho  eye-end.^  This  instru- 
ment was  afterwards  most  generously 
lent  by  Lord  Lindsay  to  Gill  for  his  ex- 
pedition to  Ascension  in  1877.^ 

These  four  Rcpsold  heliometers  proved 
to  be  excellent  instruments,  easy  and 
convenient  in  use,  and  yielding  results 
of  very  high  accuracy  in  measuring  dis- 
tances. Their  slow  motion  in  position  angle,  however,  was  not  all 
that  could  bo  desired.  "When  small  movements  were  communi- 
cated to  the  handle  c  (fig.  34)  by  tlie  tangent  screw/,  acting  on 
a  small  toothed  wheel  clamped  to  the  rod  connected  with  the  driv- 
ing pinion,  there  wasiipt  to  be  a  toi-sion  of  the  rod  rather  than  an 
immediate  action.  Thus  the  slow  motion  would  take  place  by 
jerks  instead  of  with  the  necessary  smoothm'sH  and  certainty. 
When  the  heliometer  part  of  Lord  Lindsay's  lieliomcter  was  ac- 


quired by  Gill  iu  ISTI*,  he  changed  the  manner  of  imparting  tuo 
motion  in  question.  A  square  toothed  racked  wheel  was  applied  to 
the  tube  at  r  (tig,  34).  Tliis  wheel  is  acted  on  by  a  tangent  screw 
whose  bearings  are  attaclied  to  the  cradle  ;  the  screw  is  turuL-d  by 
means  of  a  handle  supported  by  beaiings 
attached  to  the  cradle,  and  coming  within 
convenient  reach  of  the  observers  liaud. 
The  tube  turns  smoothly  in  the  i-acked  wheel, 
or  cau  be  clamped  to  it  at  the  will  of  the 
observer.  This  alteration  and  the  new  equa- 
torial mounting  have  been  a-lmiiably  made 
by  Grubb  ;  the  result  is  con.;'letely  success- 
ful. The  instrument  so  altereil  has  beeu 
in  constant  use  at  the  Cape  Observatory 
since  Mai-ch  1S81  in  determining  the  paral- 
lax of  the  more  interesting  southern  stars. 

Still  more  recently  the  Repsolds  have  com-  Yale 
pleted  a   new  heliometer  for  Yale  College,  CollM(» 
New  Haven,  United  States.    The  object-glass  helio- 
is  of  6  inches  aperture  and  98  inches  focal  meter, 
length.     The  mounting,  the  tube,  objective- 
cell,  eHdes,  i:c.,  are  all  of  steel."    The  in- 
strument is  shown  in  fig.   36.     The  circles 
for  position  angle  and  declination  are  read 
by  micrometer  microscopes  illuminated  by 
the  lamp  L;   the  scales  are  illuminated  by 
the  lamp  ?.     T  is  part  of  the  tube  proper, 
<ind  turns  with  the  head.  The  tube  V,  on  the 
contrary,  is  attached  to  the  cradle,  and  merely  forms  a  support  for 
the  finder  Q,  the  handles  at/ and  ^j,  and  the  moving  ring  P.     The 
latter  gives   quick   motion   in   position  angle  ;   the  handles  at  p 
clamp  and  give  slow  motion  in  position  angle,  those  at  /  cUmp 


Fig.  36 


and  give  slow  motion  in  right  a.sccnsiun  and  declination,  n  ift 
the  eye-piece,  b  tho  handle  for  moving  the  segments,  c  the  niicix)- 
meter  microscope  for  reading  the  scales  and  scnlo  micrometer,  d 
the  micrometer  readers  of  tho  position  and  declination  circles,  « 
the  handle  for  rotating  tho  large  wheel  E  which  carries  the 
screens.  The  hour  circle  is  aUo  roaJ  by  microscopes,  and  tho 
instrument  can   be   used   In  botli    positions  (tubo  preceding  and 

'  The  primary  object  was  to  hare  the  olJJect-gla«  mounted  In  «reel  celU.  which 
more  nearly  concapond  ta  cxp.tmlon  with  claw.  It  became  then  tlcalr-iMc  to 
make  the  head  of  atocl  for  ^ako  of  uniliTiiil-.y  ,<r  maicilal,  and  the  adTUllagu  of 
atcct  In  lightacu  ouil  rlgUltt)  f*r  iho  tube  th'rn  bocamc  evident. 


w 


aEUOMETEll.] 


MICROMETER 


255 


following)  for  the  elimmatlou  of  the  effect  of  flexure  on  the  position 
Angles. 

There  18  very  little  left  to  criticize  in  this  instrument.  It 
inbraces  the  results  of  all  knowledge  and  experience  on  the  subject 
to  the  present  time.  In  one  point,  however,  modern  heliometers 
bave  a  disadvantage  compared  with  the  older  forms.  A  great 
advance  in  accuracy  was,  no  doubt,  made  when  the  screw  was 
abandoned  as  a  means  both  of  moving  and  measuring  the  displace- 
ment of  the  slides.^  But  it  is  obviously  much  quicker  to  read  and 
record  the  indication  of  one  screw-head  than  to  bisect  two  or  four 
scale-divisions  and  enter  the  corresponding  readings.  Auwers,  in 
his  researches  on  the  parallax  of  61-  Cygni,*  was  able,  with 
the  Konigsberg  heliometer,  to  make  forty  pointings  in  about  an 
hour ;  it  is  quick  work  to  make  sixteen  pointings  (reading  two 
divisions  on  each  scale  at  each  pointing)  with  the  modern  heliometer 
in  the  same  time,  when  attention  is  paid  to  the  desirable  reversals 
of  the  segments  and  of  the  position  circle  and  the  resettings  in  right 
ascension  and  declination.  'Now  time  during  opportunities  of  good 
definition  (or  otherwise)'  is  too  precious  to  be  sacrificed,  if  it  can  be 
saved  even  by  ten-fold  labour  afterwards.  Carrington  *  has  suggested 
the  possible  use  of  photography  to  record  the  readings  of  astro- 
nomical circles,  and  since  his  day  "Swan  lights"  and  "sensitive 
dry  plates"  seems  to  have  brought  his  suggestion  within  the  range 
of  practice.  A  special  microscope,  fitted  with  an  aplanatic  photo- 
graphic objective  and  a  well-contrived  carrier,  might  be  made 
automatically  to  expose  a  different  part  of  a  narrow  dry  plate,  by 
mere  pressure  or  turning  of  a  button  after  each  bisection.  Each 
plate  might  easily  record  the  sixteen  bisections  which  constitute  a 
complete  measure  of  two  pairs  of  stars  (as  in  a  parallax  determina- 
tion). As  it  is  only  necessary  to  photograph  two  divisions  of  each 
scale,  the  photographic  enlargement  of  these  divisions  need  only  be 
limited  by  the  sensitiveness  of  the  plates  and  the  power  of  the 
illumination  to  produce  a  picture  in  a  conveniently  short  space 
of  time.  The  plates  employed  at  night  could  be  conveniently 
developed  the  following  day  and  measured  with  a  special  apparatus 
at  any  convenient  time  and  with  almost  any  desired  accuracy. 
Were  such  a  system  reduced  to  pl^ctice  it  would  at  least  double, 
perhaps  treble,  an  observer's  possible  output  of  work 
1  Gill  has  introduced  a  powerful  auxiliary  to  the  accuracy  of  helio- 

'jm  ^^  *netcr  measures  in  the  shape  of  a  reversing  prism  placed  in  front 
of  the  eye-piece,  between  the  Intter  and  the  observer's  eye.  If 
measures  are  made  by  placing  the  image  of  a  star  in  the  centre 
of  the  disk  of  a  planet,  the  observer  may  have  a  tendency  to  do  so 
systematically  in  error  from  some  acquired  habit  or  from  natural 
astigmatism  of  the  eye.  But  by  rotating  the  prism  90"  the  image 
is  presented  entirely  reversed  to  the  eye,  so  that  in  the  mean  of 
measures  made  in  two  such  positions  personal  error  is  eliminated. 
Similarly  the  prism  may  be  used  for  the  study  and  elimination  of 
personal  errors  depending  on  the  angle  made  by  a 
double  star  with  the  vertical.  The  best  plan  of 
mounting  such  a  prism  has  been  found  to  be  the 
following.  V,  P  (fig.  37)  «re  the  eye  lens  and  field  lens 
respectively  of  a  ilerz  positive  eye-piece.  In  this 
construction  the  lenses  are  much  closer  together  and 
the  diaphragm  for  the  eye  is  much  farther  from 
the  lenses  than  in  Ramsden's  eye-piece.  The  prism  Fig-'  37. 
p  ii  fitted  accurately  into  brass  slides  (care  lias  to  be  taken  in 
the  construction  to  place  the  prism  so  that  an  object  in  the 
centre  of  the  field  will  so  remaiu  when  the  eye-piece  is  rotated  in 
its  adapter).  There  is  a  collar,  -clamped  by  the  screw  at  S,  which 
is  so  aajusted  that  thu  eye-piece  is  in  focus  when  pushed  home,  in 
its  ada'pter,  to  this  collar.  The  prism  and  eye-piece  are  then 
rotated  togetlier  in  the  adapter. 

Oa  the  theory  of  the  heliometer  and  Its  n«o  consult  Bessei,  Asironomische 
Vnlersuchungen,  vol.i.',  Hansen,  AusfiihrJiche  Methode  mit  iJem  Frattnhoferschen 
Eelionieler  anzjistellen,  Gotlm,  1827 :  Cliauvenet,  Spherical  arid  Practical  Astro- 
nomt/,  ToL  11.  pp.  403-436,  Philadelphia  and  London,  1876;  SeeliRer.  Theorie 
det  Ileliomeiers,  Leipslc,  1877 ;  Lindsay  and  GUI,  Dunecht  PubUcaticn:,  vol.  il., 
Dunecht(for  private  dixulatlon),  1877;  Gill,  Mcmoirt  of  the  Royat  Astronomical 
Socielv,  vol.  xlvl.  pp.  1-172 

IficromeUrs  which  Involve  the  Employment  of  the  Diurnal  Motion. 
Advantage  is  often  taken  of  the  diurnal  motion  to  measure  the 
relative  positions  of  stars.  The  varieties  of  reticules  and  scales  that 
have  been  employed  are  far  too  numerous  even  for  mention  in 
detail.  The  following  are  the  means  and  methods  by  which  most 
work  has  been  done,  and  they  are  typical  of  all  the  others.  In  the 
focus  of  his  meridian  telescope  Lacaille  had  a  brass  diaphragm  in 


I  discussion  of   Bosel's  observations  ("FnraUux< 


Cyjfnl,"  Atf/iandlungm  der  Konigl.  Alcad.  rfer  yVistenicha/(en  ru'Serhn,  1868)  he 
iliown,  are  apt  to  wear  and  ehanpe  their  errors.  It  is,  besides,  unde^liable  to  opply 
force  and  frlcilon  to  a  delicate  standard  of  measure 

*  MMiron.  A'acfiyichten.  No.  1418. 

■  For  example.  In  determining  the  diurnal  pnrallait  of  a  planet  the  most 
favourable  conditions  are  limited  on  the  one  hand  by  the  uncertaintleg  of  refrac- 
tion at  large  zenith  distances,  and  on  the  other  by  the  snwll  parallax  factors  of 
email  zenith  distimces.  It  \vould  probably  be  best  to  secure  all  the  observations 
notild  only  be  possible  with  special  faciUtiesfor 


between  fiO°  and  60'  ZD,  and  tli 
reading  the  scales. 
*  ifonthii,  Jfcticci  R.  A.  S. 


X.  p.  46. 


which  wag  cut  a  hole,  havinc  parallel,  sharp,  straight  edges  of  the  La- 
shape  shown   in   fig.  38.       f  he  longer  diagonal  of  the  rhomboid  caille' 
so  termed  was   at   right  angles,  and  tiie  shorter  parallel,  to  the  rhom- 
diurnal  motion.     The  method  of  observation  consisted  in  noting  boid. 
the  instant  of  ingress  and  egress  of  encli  star  which  pi-esentcd  itsell". 
The  mean  of  the  times  thus  noted  for  eacli  star  gave  the  time  of  its 
transit  over  the  imaginary  line  ab,  whilst  the  diirprenco  brtwcea 
the  instant   of  ingress   and   that   of 
egress   (converted   into    arc    by   the 
known  approximate  declination)  gave 
the  length  of  the  chord  traversed  by 
the  star   parallel  to  the   imaginary 
line  cd.      Hence  (the  dimensions  of 
the  rhomboid  beingknown)thediffer-  c- 
ence   of  the  star's  declination  from 
the  line  cd  became  known  (the  ob- 
server was  of  course  careful  to  note 
whether  the  star  passed  to  north  or 
south  of  cd).     Thus  every  star  that 
crossed   the   field  was  observed,   all 
their  ri§ht  ascensions  were  referred 
to  the  clock-time  of  passing  ab,  and 
all  their  declinations  to  that  of  cd ;    hence  their    mutual  diffw- 
ences  of  right  ascension  and  declination  were  known.     In  this 
way,  in  the  short  space  of  ten  months,  Lacaille  observed  nearly  tea 
thousand  stars  at  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope  in  the  years  1751-52.* 
Fraunhofer's  ring  micrometer  consists  of  a  ring  of  steel,  very  truly  Riug.i^* 
turned,  mounted  in  a  hole  cut  in  a  circular  disk  of  glass.    The  ring  is  cromet'  > 
placed  in  the  foous  of  a  telescope,  and  viewed  by  a  positive  eye-piece. 
The  observer  notes  the  instants  when  the  two  objects  enter  and 
emerge  from  each  side  of  the  ring.     The  only  data  rec^uired  for  com- 
puting the  difference  of  right  ascension  and  declination  of  the  two 
objects  arc  the  times  above  mentioned,  the  diameter  of  the  ring, 
and  the  approximate  declination  of  one  of  the  objects.     The  latter 
is  always  known.     The  methods  of  determining  the  former  and  of 
r«ilucing  the  observations  are  to  be  found  in  every  work  on  practical 
astronomy.     The  ring  micrometer  has  been  largely  used  in  observ- 
ing comets. 

Argelander,  in  mal.ing  his  famous  survey  of  the  northern  heavens,*  Arge- 
employed  a  semicitcle  of  glass,  the  straight  edge  of  which  (truly  laade/ 
ground)  crosses  the  centre  of  tlie  field  of  view  at  right  angles  to  the  scale, 
diurnal  motion  of  the  stars.  Differences  of  right  ascension  wore 
directly  observed  at  this  edge,  whilst  differences  of  declination  were 
noted  by  strong  dark  lines  drawn  at  right  angles  to  the  edge  at  eacli 
10' of  arc.  A  telescope  of  3  inches  aperture  with  a  magnifying  power 
of  10  diameters  commanded  a  field  of  Z"  20'  in  declination.  One 
observer  was  placed  at  the  telescope,  another  at  the  clock.  The 
telescope  observer  marked  the  instant  when  the  star  touched  the 
glass  edge,  by  calling  sharply  the  word  "eight"  or  "nine,"  &c., 
which  also  indicated  the  magnitude;  the  same  observer  also  noted 
and  recorded  the  reading  of  the  declination  scale  (where  the  star 
crossed  it),  without  removing  his  eye  from  the  telescope.  The 
clock  observer  wrote  down  the  magnitude  called  out  by  the  telescope 
observer,  and  the  instant  by  the  clock  when  the  word  was  given. 
The  two  records  were  then  compared  after  the  observations  of  the 
night  were  over.  In  this  way  Schbnfeld  and  Kruegcr  (Argelander's 
assistants)  observed  and  catalogued  about  three  hundred  thousand 
stars.  The  probable  error  of  an  observation  is  ^bout  ±0*7  sec.  in 
right  ascension  and  ±0'"4  in  declination. 

Bond'  employed  a  very  similar  arrangement,  differing  only  from  Bond's 
Argolapder's  in  having  the  scale  cut  on  a  sheet  of  transparent  mica  mica 
-iVTTffth  of  an  inch  in  thickness.     Very  oblique   illumination  was  decline 
employed,  and  the  divisions  and  figures  were  seen  bright  upon  a  meter, 
dark  background.     The  range  of  declination  was  limited  to  10', 
the  scale  was  divided  to  10",  the  right  ascensions  were  observed  by 
chronographic  registration,  and  the  great  refractor  of  the  Cambridge 
U.  S.  Observatory  (with  an  aperture  of  15  inches  and  power  of  140) 
was  employed.     The  probable  errors  in  right  ascension  and  declina- 
tion  were  found  to  be  ±0*06  sec.  in  right  ascension  and  ±0""6  in 
declination — results  of  marvellous  accuracy  considering  the  amount. 
of  work  accomplished  in  a  short  time  and  the  faintness  (eleven  to 
twelve  magnitudes)  of  the  stars  observed, 

"VVe  were  on  the  point  of  criticizing  Bonds  programme  as  some-  Peters'* 
what  too  ambitious  for  realization  without  cooperation  (it  would  zones, 
take  about  twenty-six  thousand  hours  of  observing  to  carry  out  the 
scheme  for  the  northern  hemisphere  alone)  when  we  received  from 
Peters  of  Clinton,  U.  S.,  the  first  twenty  maps  of  a  series  which  will 
include  the  whole  of  the  sky  between  declination  +  SO'*  and  -  30°.  If 
we  consider  that  all  the  stars  in  these  maps  of  the  eleventh  magni- 
tude or  brighter  have  been  observed  by  a  method  similar  to  Bond's, 
that  the  enormous  additional  labour  of  frequent  revision  has  beea 
undertaken,  and  all  stars  visible  with  a  power  of  80  in  a  telescope  of 
13  inches  aperture  (about  fourteenth  magnitude)  have  been  filled  in 

tf  Lacaille,  Calum  Australe  SteUifemm,  Pails,  1763,  and  A  Catalogue  q/' 9765. 
Stars,  from  the  Obtercations  of  Lacaille,  London,  18-;7, 
^  AHa$  dei  Nordlif^ef 


256 


M  I-C  — M  I  C 


fy  ali''nTnrtit,  linA  Ihni  all  this  results  from  Ihc  lOinuM  Inlnar  of  a 
Isinglclbscncr,  wo  find  tliat  our  ideas  of  We  jmsvllc  liavc  to  Uo  modi-  j 
lied,  when  sueli  a  imui  imdertakes  a  work  with  pcrsihlciit  unity  of 
purimsc  for  more  than  twenty  years  (!860-63>. 
Berlin      '    TluTe  is  an  ingenious  mode  of  rcnisterin^'iliU'eroncos  of  declination  | 
dedino-  ;that  lias  liceii  in  use  at  the  Berlin  Ohscrvntory  since  1S79,  an.I  is 
»rai*-     iScscribid  by  Dr  Knarrc  in  tW)  ZciiS'-hrifl  fiir  IiislnuncnUnhiinih  ' 
for  July  ISSl.     The  iustrumcnt  is  called  a  declinograph.     It  has  a  J 
web  moved  in  declination  by  a  quick-acting  screw  ;  the  same  screw  , 
carries  a  travelling  pricker  or  j.oint.     The  observer  having  bisected  | 
a  star  by  the  wire  has  simply  to  coinjiross  an  india-rubber  ball  con- 
nected by  a  flexible  tube  with  a  thin  metal  box  made  on  the  prin- 
ciple of  the  vacuum  chamber  of  an  aneroid  barouieter.     The  ex- 
pansion of  tliis  box  so  proiluccd  brings  a  sheet  of  pajwr  in  contact 
with  two  prickers,  one  the  movable  pricker  before  mentioned,  the 
other   a    fixed   pricker.      Tlio   action   of    the   va-uuni   box    also 
automatically  shifts  the  paper  (a  long  roll)  by  a  small  quantity  at 
each  observation,  so  that  successive  observations  are  ri-corilcd  in 
regular  order.     To  obtain  the  observed  differences  of  declination  it 
is  tlien  only  necessary  to  measure  with  a  glass  scalo  (divided  for 
the  special   telescope  to  10")  the  distance  of  each  record  of  the 
noving  pricker  from  the  fixed  pricker.     It   is   found,  with  this 
declinograph  on  the  Berlin  equatorial,  that  the  observed  declina- 
tions have  only  a  probable  error  of  ±0"'9.     It  is  obvious  that  by 
using  a  dironograph  in    conjtinction   with   this  instrument  both 
right  ascensions  and  declinations  conUl  be  recorded  with  great 
accuracy  and  rapidity. 

MisaUancous  Micrometers, 
VSx^Aj    Clausen  in  1841  {Ast.  Nach.,  No.  414)  proposed  a  form  of  micro- 
glass         meter  consisting  of  a  divided  plate  of  parallel  glass  placed  witliin 
micro-  ,  the   cone  of  rays  from   the   object-glass   at   riglit   angles   to  the 
meter.  '   telescope  axis.     One  half  of  this  plane  remains  fixed,  the  other 
half  is  movable.     When  the  inclination  of  the  movable  half  with 
respect  to  the  axis  of  the  telescope  is  changed  by  rotation  about  an 
axis  at  right  angles  to  the  plane  of  division,  two  images  are  pro- 
duced.    The  amount  of  separation  is  veiy  small,  and  depends  on 
the  thickness  of  the  glass,  the  index  of  refraction,  and  the  focal 
length  of  the  telescope.      Secchi  (Conijitts  Ucmlt'S,  xli.,  1S55,  p. 
900)  gives  an  account  of  sonie  experiments  with  a  similar  micro- 
raetcr  ;  and  Porro  (.ComptcsKtiutiis,  xli.  p.  1053)  claims  the  original 
invention  and  construction  of  such  a  micrometer  in  1842.     Clausen, 
however,  has  undoubted  prioiitj'.     Helmholtz  in  his  "  Ophthalmo- 
meter" has  employed  Clausen's  principle,  but  arranges  the  plates 
so  that  both  move  symmetrically  in  opposite  directions  whh  resjiect 
to  the  telescope  axis.     Should  Clausen's  micrometer  be  employed 
as  an  astronomical  instrument  it  would  be  well  to  adopt  the  im- 
^provement  of  Helniholtz. 
Qhost  Bui  tonttnd  Grubb  (Monthly  Kotiees,  toI.  xli.  p.  59),  after  calling 

iuicro-  attention  to  Lament's  paper  (Jcihrbuch  dcr  IC.  S.  b,  Miiuchrjt/\y, 
meter.  187)  and  Littrow's  paper  ( /'yoc.  of  Vienna.  Acnd.  of  Sciences,  vol.  xx. 
p.  253)  oA  a  like  sul»ject,  jiroceed  totlescribe  a  most  ingenious  form 
of  "  Ghost  Micrometer,"  in  which  the  iinnr/e  of  a  fine  line  or  lines 
ruled  in  (or  rather  cut  through)  a  silver  film  deposited  on  glass  is 
'formed  at  the  conmion  focus  of  an  object-glass  and  eye-piece  of  a 
telescope.     A  faint  light  being  thrown  on  the  outside  of  the  silvered 

f)latc,  there  appear  bright  lines  in  the  field  of  view.  AVe  have  not 
lad  an  opportunity  of  testing  this,  nor  Crubb's  more  recent 
models  ;  but,  should  it  be  foutul  possible  to  produce  such  images 
satisfactorily,  without  distortion  and  with  an  apparatus  convenient 
and  ligid  in  form,  such  micrometers  will  probably  supersede  the 
filar  micrometer.  Their  absolute  freedom  from  diffraction,  the 
perfect  control  of  the  illuniiuation  and  lliirkuess  of  the  lines,  and 
the  accuracy  with  which  it  will  be  possible  to  construct  scales 
for  Eone  observations  will,  be.  important  features  of  the  new 
.method. 

For  the  use  of  micrometers  in  connexion  with  the  microscojic, 
pee  p.  277  of  the  present  volume  (D.  GI.) 

MICRONESI.\.  '   Tlie    term    "  Micronesia '"  embraces  I 
tliat  region  of  tlie  Pacific  nortli-  of  tlie  great  >[elanesian  | 
islands,  where,  eitlier  iicrhaps  from  a  greater  or  more  raiud 
subsidence,  or  from  the  decreasing  activity  northwards  of  : 
■tbe  coral  bitildeis,  the  islands  become,  generally  speaking, 
smaller  and  fewer,  and  finally  cea.se.     Accordingly,  except- 
ing  the  Marianas   or    Ladroncs,    which   are   of   volcanic 
origin,  and  a  few  isolated    instances  of   elevation  in  tlie  ' 
Carolines,  the  Microncsian   islands,  though   many  of  the  ! 
group.s  cover  a  vast  area,  are  almost  without  exception  verj" 
small  low  coral  (atoll)  formations.     Besides  the  LxPitoxE 
apd    CxroLiXE    1sl.\N"DS    (7.1.)    Micronesia    includes   the  J 
Marshall    and    Gilbert    groups,    and    some    geographers  ' 
include   the    Anson   group,  fa    uuinber   of   small    widely-  , 


scattered  i6lef3  to  the  west  of  Hawaii,  the  Magellan 
group  farther  west,  .and  tbe  Benin 'Islands  north  of  the 
Ladroncs.' 

North-easterly  ■ninds  prevail  during  the  winter  months 
over  the  Marshalls,  Ladrones,  and  Carolines,  except  in 
the  extreme  west,  while  between  May  and  .September  the 
influence  of  the  monsoon  causes  unsettled  weatlier  from 
the  west,  with  heavy  gales.  In  the  Gilberts  the  south-east 
trade-wind  brings  fine  weather  at  this  season. 

The  ethnological  features  of  Micronesia  are  much  more 
definite  than  the  geographical,  for  its  populations  form 
one  great  branch  of  the  fair  Polynesian  race,  distinguished 
from  the  other  by  weB-marked  differences  in  appearance, 
language,  and  institution.?.  Its  ethnological  relations  are 
not  thoroughly  understood.  The  proximity  of  Jajian  and 
the  Philijipines  on  the  west  and  of  the  Papuan  and  South 
Polynesian  islands  on  the  south  and  south-east  suggests, 
what  in  fact  we  find,  a  combination  of  elements  in  different 
degrees  of  fusion.  In  some  places  the  oblique  Mongolian 
eye  is  noticed,  and  (along  with  certain  Indo-Chinese 
custoiuji)  there  is  often  a  scantiness  of  beard  and  general 
"Malay"  look  which  increases  westwards,  and  seems  to 
imply  relations  with  the  archipelago  subsequent  to  the 
departure  tlience  of  the  pure  Polynesians.  In  the  Gilberts 
the  traces  of  Polynesian  (Samoan)  influences  are  evident, 
and  are  confirmed  by  tradition.  Among  the  Carolines  and 
the  Marshalls  darker  and  more  savage  communities  arc 
found,  suggesting  a  Melanesian  clement,  which  is  further 
traceable  in  the  Kbon  (Marshall)  and  other  languages. 

Each  of  the. four  groups,  from  long  isolation,  has  devel- 
oped peculiarities  of  its  own.  The  most  advanced  were 
the  "Chamorros"  of  the  Ladrones,  owing  to  the  greater 
natural  resources  of  the  islands,  and  iierhaps  more  frequent 
contact  with  influences  from  the  west  ;  but  as  a  separate 
peo|ile  they  no  longer  exi.st,  having  been  nearly  extermin- 
ated by  the  Spaniards  in  the  ITth  century.  Kext  in 
advancement  come  the  Carolines.  The  general  type  is  a 
well-proportioned  rather  slightly  built  figure,  with  small 
and  regular  features ;  head  high  and  well-proportioned, 
but  forehead  rather  retreating,  and  narrow  at  the  temples ; 
cheek  bones  and  chin  slightly  prominent  ;  colour  somewhat 
darker  than  the  Polynesians,  the  Marshalls  being  darker 
and  more  vigorous  than  the  Carolines,  while  the  Gilbert 
type  is  still  darker  and  coarser.  The  upper  class  greatly 
surpasses  the  common  people  in  physique  and  intelligence. 

There  is  a  peculiar  division  of  .society  into  septs  or 
clans,  the  membership  of  which  constitutes  the  closest  tie. 
Per.-rons  of  the  satne  .sept  must  not  intermarry,  and  when 
two  islands  or  communities  meet  in  war  the  members  of 
one  scjit,  however  widely  separated  by  distance  of  space 
or  time,  will  not  injure  or  fight  with  each  otiier.  Eac' 
community  is  usually  composed  (but  there  are  local  differ 
cnces)  of — (1)  an  upper  class  of  chiefs,  from  among  whom 
the  head  {tnmol  or  irof)  is  chosen  ;  (i)  a  lower  but  still 
noble  class ;  and  (•'3)  common  people,  nlbstly  without 
rights  of  property.  These  last  are  only  allowed  one  wifa. 
Assemblies  of  the  chiefs  cverj-wherc  limit  the  kingly 
nutliority.  In  the  Mar.--halls  the  sovereign  has  lost  his 
control  over  many  of  the  atolls,  and  in  Ihc  Gilberts  the 
above  diatinctions  have  nearly  disappeared :  the  licadslyp 
has  lajiscd,  and.  especially  in  the  southern  islands,  the  man 
of  largest  sub.-tance  is  the  most  powerful,  and  somelinic,'* 
e-!tabli»hcs  a  local  supremacy.  Here  and  there  are  frace^i, 
as  in  Tonga,  of  a  spiritual  sovereign,  the  descendants 
probably  of  a  conquered  dynasty.  •  Succession  is  through 
the  female  side,  which  assures  to  women  a  certain  position,* 

'  TI:>-0  i«landv.  \\hh\\  contain  a  nii.vod  inimij:vanl  population,  are 
claiinc.f  and  have  U-rn  recently  survoye.l,  by  .lapan.  Bui  lliry  were 
annexed  to  En^-laml  l.y  Captain  Ueochey  iu  IS'.'?.  (S»«  Vou  Kitllili, 
Di  uk  n  M-iUi/Uiltii  cin'crRciM  naeh  .  «.  .  J/ifl-roiiejifii.  tc,  vol.  ii.) 


M  I  C  — M  I  C 


257 


and  leads  besides  to  some  curious  results  (see  paper  by 
Kubary  in  Das  Ausland^  1880,  No.  27).  The  upper  class 
are  the  keepers  of  traditions,  boatrbuilders,  leaders  of 
expeditions ;  tattooing  is  generally  done  by  them,  the 
amount  increasing  with  a  man's  rank  j  the  custom  here 
still  has  definite  religious  associations.  Both  sexes  are 
tattooed.  The  people  are  singularly  amiable  and  well 
disposed,  but  will  repay  ill  usage  with  treachery.  The 
women  (although  chastity  is  not  expected  before  marriage) 
are  somewhat  more  moral  than  the  Polynesians,  and  are 
treated  with  respect,  as  are  the  a^ed.  The  natives  are 
polite  and  hospitable  to  strangers  (except  on  the  poorer  and 
ruder  islands),  bright  and  intelligent,  active  traders,  expert 
cultivators  and  fishermen.  They  have  a  hand-loom  from 
which  beautiful  fabrics  of  banana,  hibiscus,  and  other  fibres 
are  produced.  The  Marshall  Islanders  are  the  boldest 
and  most  skilful  navigators  in  the  Pacific.  Their  voyages 
of  many  months*  duration,  in  great  canoes  sailing  with 
outrigger  to  windward,  well-provisioned,  and  depending  on 
the  skies  for  fresh  water,  help  to  show  how  the  Pacific 
was  colonized.  They  have  a  sort  of  chart,  medo^  of  small 
sticks  tied  together,  representing  the  positions  of  islands 
and  the  directions  of  the  winds  and  currents.  A  two-edged 
-weapon,  of  which  the  blade  is  of  sharks*  teeth,  and  a 
defensive  armour  of  braided  sennit,  are  also  peculiar  to  the 
islands ;  a  large  adze,  made  of  the  Tridacna  gigaSj  was 
formerly  used  in  the  Carolines,  probably  by  the  old 
Guilder  race. 

Tlio  languages  of  Micronesia,  though  grammatically  alike,  differ 
widely  in  theii-  vocabularies.  They  have  the  chief  characteristics 
of  the  Polynesian,  with  Malay  affinities,  and  peculiarities  such  as  the 
use  of  suffixes  and  inseparable  pronouns  and,  as  in  Taffal,  of  thein6x 
to  denote  changes  in  the  verb  ;  in  the  west  groups  there  is  a  tend- 
ency to  closet!  syllables  and  double  consonants,  and  a  use  of  the  pala- 
tals c7i,  ^',  jA,  the  dental  tk,  and  s  (the  last  perhaps  only  in  foreign 
words),  which  is  alien  to  the  Polynesian.  These  letters  are 
wanting  in  the  Gilbert  language,  which  differs  considerably  from 
all  the  others,  and  has  much  greater  affinities  with  the  Polynesian. 

The  religious  myths  are  generally  identifiable  with  the  Polynesian, 
but  a  belief  in  the  gods  proper  is  overshadowed  by  a  general 
deification  of  ancestors,  who  are  supposed  from  time  to  time  to 
occupy  certain  blocks  of  stone,  set  up  near  the  family  dwelling,  and 
surrounded  by  circles  of  smaller  ones.  These  stones  are  anointed 
with  oil,  and  worshipped  with  prayer  and  offerings,  and  are  also  used 
for  purposes  of  divination,  in  which,  and  in  various  omens,  there  is 
a  general  belief.  In  the  ilarslialls,  in  place  of  these  stones,  certain 
palm  trees  are  similarly  enclosed.  The  spirits  also  sometimes 
inhabit  certain  birds  or  fishes,  which  are  then  tabu^  as  food,  to  tho 
family  ;  but  they  will  help  to  catch  them  for  others.  All  this 
closely  recalls  the  .karwars  or  ancestral  images  of  New  Guinea. 
Temples  are  very  rare,  though  those  blocks  of  coral  are  sometimes 
surrounded  by  a  roofless  enclosure  opening  to  the  west.  The  bodies 
of  tho  dead,  and  sometimes  even  of  the  sick,  are  despatched  to  sea 
westwards,  with  certain  rites  ;  those  of  the  chiefs,  however,  are 
buried,  for  the  order  has  something  essentially  divine  about  it; 
th«ir  bodies  tlierefore  are  sacred,  and  their  spirits  naturally  assume 
tho  position  above  described.  Such  a  belief  greatly  strengtheus  the 
king's  authority,  for  the  spirits  of  his  ancestore  are  necessarily  more 
powerful  than  any  other  spirits.  Thus  too  it  comes  that  the  chiefs, 
and  all  belonging  to  them,  are  tabu  as  regards  the  common  people. 
There  are  various  other  subjects  and  occasions  of  tabu,  but  the 
institution  has  not  the  oppressive  and  all-pervading  character 
which  it  has  in  Polynesia.  Its  action  is  often  economical  or 
charitable,  e.g. ,  the  ripening  cocoa-nuts  are  tabu  as  long  as  the  bread- 
fruit lasts,  thus  securing  the  former  for  future  use  ;  or  it  is  put  on 
after  a  death,  and  the  nuts  thus  saved  are  given  to  the  family— 
a  kindness  to  them,  and  a  mark  of  respect  for  the  dead. 

The  flora  of  the  Gilbert  and  JIarsnall  groups  is  of  the  usual 
oceanic  character,  with  close  Indo-Malay  affinities.  It  is  much 
poorer  than  that  of  the  Carolines,^  with  its  Moluccan  and  Philip- 
mne  elements,  and  this  again  is  surpassed  by  that  of  the  Ladrones. 
In  the  Gilberts  the  scattered  woods  of  cocoa-palm  and  Pandamcs 
have  little  undergrowth,  while  the  south  Marshalls,  being  within  the 
^belt  of  constant  precipitation,  have  a  dense  growtli  of  (mostly)  low 
trees  and  shrubs,  with  here  and  there  a  tropical  luxuriance  and 
variety  unusual  oh  atolls.  The  Paiidanus  grows  wild  profusely,  and 
is  of  exceptional  importance,  being  the  chief  staple  of  food,  so  that 


^  About  180  species   have  been  observed  on  Kusaie,  one-fourth  of 
all  the  plants  being  ferns. '^ 


the  cocoa-nut,  which,  however,  flourishes  chiefly  in  the  Gilberts,  is 
used  mainly  to  produce  oil  for  exportation.  The  bread-fruit  gi-ow* 
chiefly  in  the  south  Marshalls.  The  taro  (Antm  cordi/olium 
and  others)  is  cultivated  laboriously,  deep  trenches  being  cut  in 
the  solid  rock  for  its  irrigation,  but; this  and  other  plants  of  cultiva- 
tion, and  indeed  the  vegetation  generally,  fall  off  in  number  and 
quality  northwards.  Various  vegetables  are  grown  on  soil  im- 
ported for  the  purpose.  Marine  plants  are  rare.  Wilkes  found  oa 
Makin  Island,  Gilbert  group,  a  "  fruit  resembling  the  gooseberry,". 
called  '*teiparu,"from  wliich  a  preserve  is  made.  This  seems  very 
like  the  tipari  or  Cape  gooseberry  of  India  {Pkysalis  pcrumaTia). 
And  their  Icaraka,  a  drink  made  from  the  sap  of  the  flower-stalk  of 
the  cocoa-palm  (unfermented  before  the  arrival  of  Europeans),  recalb 
the  arrack  of  southern  Asia. 

The  fauna,  like  the  flora,  becomes  poorer  eastwards,  birds  being 
much  more  numerous  on  the  high  islands  than  on  the  atolls,  where 
the  few  are  chiefly  aquatic.  On  Bonabe  (Puynipet)  out  of  twenty- 
nine  species  eleven  are  sea  birds,  and  of  the  remaining  eighteen  seven 
are  peculiar  to  the  island.  From  the  Pelews  fifty-six  species  are 
recorded  ( twelve  peculiar),  and  from  the  neighbouring  Mackenzie 
group  (Ulithi)  twenty  (six  peculiar).  Yet  curiously  no  species  is 
recdrded  common  to  these  two  groups  and  peculiar  to  them.  The 
common  fowl  is  found  everywhere,  wild  or  tame,  and  in  some  places 
is  kept  for  its  feathers  only.  The  rat  and  a  Pteropus  are  the  only 
indigenous  land  mammals.  The  Indian  crocodile  is  found  as  far 
east  as  the  Pelews.  There  are  five  or  six  li:^ards,  including  a 
Occko  and  Ablephorus.  Insects  are  numerous,  but  of  few  kinds. 
Scorpions  and  centipedes  are  common,  but  are  said  to  be  harmless. 

The  houses  in  the  Gilberts  and  Marshalls  (much  less  elaborate 
than  in  the  Carolines)  consist  merely  of  a  thatched  roof  resting  on 

fiosts  or  on  blocks  of  coral  about  3  feet  high,  with  a  floor  at  that 
evel,  which  is  reached  from  an  opening  in  the  centre.  On  this 
the  principal  people  sleep,  and  it  serves  as  a  storehouse  in- 
accessible to  rats,  which  infest  all  the  islands. 

The  Marshall  archipelago  consists  of  two  nearly  parallel  chains 
of  atolls,  from  100  to  300  miles  apart,  the  west  known  as  Eahk,  the 
east  as  Ratak,  They  lie  between  4°  30'  and  12°  N.,  and  between 
165°  15'  and  172°  15'  E.,  and  run  about  N.N.AV.  and  S.S.E. 
They  were  discovered  in  1529  bySaavedra,  who,  observing  the  fine 
tattooing  of  the  inhabitants  (the  first  allusion  to  the  practice  in 
the  Pacific),  called  them  Los  Pintados.  Among  modern  voyagers 
"WaUis  first  visited  them  in  1767  ;  Captains  Marshall  and  Gil- 
bert reached  them  in  1788,  and  Kotzebue  (1816)  explored  them 
more  thoroughly.  Each  gi'oup  contains  fifteen  or  sixteen  atolla, 
which  range  from  2  to  60  miles  in  circumference.  An  anomalous 
feature  is  reported  on  some  of  them,  viz.,  that  the  greater  pro- 
portion of  land,  or  at  all  events  of  soil,  is  not  found  as  usual  on  the 
windward  side  of  the  lagoon,  for  the  prevailing  north-east  wind 
sweeps,  it  is  said,  the  materials  of  which  the  soil  of  such  islands  is 
composed  across  to  the  lee  side.  Jaluit  Island  is  the  commercial 
emporium  of  the  whole  region.  There  is  a  curious  tradition  on 
Ebon  Island  of  the  Darwinian  fact  that  the  atoll  once  formed  the 
barrier  reef  of  an  island  now  sunk  beneath  the  lagoon.  Thepopula- 
rion  of  Ratak  is  about  6000,  of  Ealik  4000 ;  there  is  little  intercoui"se 
between  the  two  groups. 

The  Gilbert  archipelago,  discovered  by  Byron  in  1765,  is 
geographically  a  south  continuation  of  the  Marshalls,  the  channel 
separating  them  being  60  leagues  wide.  It  lies  between  2°  40' 
S.  and  8"  20'  K,  and  between  172°  30'  and  177°  15'  E.,  and  con- 
tains sixteen  atolls,  not  including  two  hiUy  islands,  Banaba  and 
Nawodo,  which  lie  5' to  6°  to  the  west.  Several  have  good  anchorages 
inside  the  lagoon,  with  entrances  on  the  lee  side.  On  some  the  lee 
or  west  reef  is  wanting,  owing  to  the  abrading  force  of  the  west 
storms.  During  these  large  trees  are  washed  ashore,  their  roots 
containing  pieces  of  fine  basalt,  of  which  implements  ore  made. 
There  is  a  lar  larger  proportion  of  land  to  submerged  reef  and 
lagoon  than  in  the  Marshalls,  the  land  sometimes  nsing  20  feet 
above  the  sea,  whereas  in  the  Marshalls  the  average  level  of  the 
reef  rock  is  less  than  a  foot  above  the  surface^  but,  though  the 
supply  of  fresh  water  is  exceptionally  great,  in  fact  enough  for  the 
luxury  of  a  bath,  the  soil  (especially  in  the  south)  is  very  mueli  less 

Sroductive.  Yet  the  population,  about  50,000,  is  exceptionally 
ense.  The  usual  scattered  houses  are  replaced  by  compact  rows 
of  roofs  which,  shaded  by  cocoa-palm,  and  each  with  its  boat-shed 
below,  line  the  shore.  'Their  numbers  are  unchecked  either  by  the 
constant  practice  of  abortion  or  by  fighting,  to  which  they  are 
much  addicted,  their  weapons  being  more  formidable  than  those 
of  their  neigliboura.  This  exceptional  vigour  may  be  due  to  the' 
decidedly  hybrid  character  of  tlie  race.  Hawaiian  missionaries,' 
under  American  superintendence,  have  laboured  here  since  1857. 

See  also  Findlay's  Sailing  Directtont  for  the  North  Pacific ;  Roper's  KorfU 
Pacific  Pilol  and  Nautical  *l/o?o:t"H<,  vols.  Jtxxi.  and  ixxv.  Other  authorItI«i 
are  Gerlnnd  In  Waitz't  Aathropoloyie  der  KaturvStker.  vol.  v.:  Jlcinlcke.  />/« 
Intein  dts  S(iilen  Oceans;  Hole'n  Elhnography  and  Philology  of  Wilkes'a  U.  Sj 
Explorini)  Erpeditioni-Kotzchm  and  ChamXaso.  Enldectvnffsreiie  in  die  Sudtet; 
Proc.  Z^ol.  Soc,  1872  and  1877.  v(C.  T.)/ 

MICROPHONE.  _  See  Telepho>-e. 


25» 


MICROSCOPE 


THE '  microscope  is  an  optical  instrmnent  for  the  ex- 
amination of  minute  objects  or  parts  of  objects, 
which  enlarges  the  visual  pictures  formed  upon  the  retina 
of  the  observer  by  the  rays  proceeding  from  them. 

Microscopes  are  distinguished  as  simple  or  compound. 
In  the  former,  the  rays  which  enter  the  eye  of  the  observer 
come  from  an  object  brought  near  to  it  after  refraction 
through  either  a  single  lens  or  a  combination  of  lenses 
acting  as  a  single  lens, — its  action  as  a  "magnifier  "  depend- 
ing on  its  enabling  the  eye  to  form  a  distinct  image  of  the 
object  at  a  much  shorter  distance  than  would  otherwise  be 
possible.  The  latter  consists  of  at  least  two  lenses,  so  placed 
relatively  to  the  object,  to  the  eye,  and  to  one  ahother  that 
an  enlarged  image  of  the  object,  formed  by  the  lens  placed 
nearest  to  it  (the  "  object-glass  "),  is  looked  at  through  the 
lens  nearest  the  eye  (the  "  eye-glass "),  which  acts  as  a 
simple  microscope  in  "magnifying"  it;  so  that  the  com- 
pound microscope  may  be  described  as  a  simple  microscope 
\ised  to  look  at  an  enlarged  image  of  the  object,  instead 
of  at  the  object  itself. 

History  of  the  Simple  Microscope. — Any  solid  or  liquid 
transparent  medium  of  lenticular  form,  having  either  one 
convex  and  one  flat  surface  or  two  convex  surfaces  whose 
axes  are  coincident,  may  serve  as  a  "  magnifier," — what  is 
essential  being  that  it  ^all  have  the  power  of  so  refract- 
ing the  rays  which  pass  through  it  as  to  cause  widely 
diverging  rays  to  become  cither  parallel  or  but  slightly 
divergent.  Thus  if  a  minute  object  be  placed  on  a  slip  of 
glass,  and  a  single  drop  of  water  be  carefully  placed  upon 
it,  the  drop  will  act  as  a  magnifier  in  virtue  of  the  con- 
vexity of  its  upper  surface ;  so  that  when  the  eye  is 
brought  sufficiently  near  it  (the  glass  being  of  course  held 
horizontally,  so  as  not  to  distort  the  spherical  curvature  of 
the  drop)  the  object  will  be  seen  much  enlarged.  And  if 
a  small  hole  be  made  in  a  thin  plate  of  metal,  and  a 
minute  drop  of  water  be  inserted  in  it,  this  di-op,  having 
two  convex  surfaces,  will  serve  as  a  still  more  powerful 
magnifier.  There  is  reason  to  believe  that  the  magnify- 
ing power  of  transjjarent  media  with  convex  surfaces  was 
very  early  known.  A  convex  lens  of  rock-crystal  was 
found  by  Layard  among  the  ruins  of  the  palace  of  Nimrud. 
And  it  is  jiretty  certain  that,  after  the  invention  of  glass, 
hollow  spheres  blown  of  that  material  and  filled  with 
water  were  commonly  used  as  magnifiers  (conip.  vol.  xiv. 
p.  577).  The  perfection  of  gem-cutting  shown  in  ancient 
gems,  especially  in  those  of  very  minute  size,  could  not 
have  been  attained  without  the  use  of  such  aids  to  the 
visual  power;  and  there  can  be  little  doubt  that  the 
artificers  who  could  execute  these  wonderful  works  could 
also  shape  and  polish  the  magnifiers  best  suited  for  their 
own  or  others'  use.  Though  it  is  impossible  to  say  when 
convex  lenses  of  glass  were  first  made  by  grinding,  it  is 
quite  certain  that  they  were  first  generally  used  to  assist 
ordinary  vision  as  "  spectacles,"  the  use  of  which  can  be 
traced  back  nearly  six  centuries ;  and  not  only  were 
spectacle-makers  the  first  to  produce  glass  magnifiers  (or 
simple  microscopes),  but  by  them  also  the  telescope  and  tne 
compound  microscope  were  first  invented.  There  seems 
no  reason  to  believe,  however,  that  lenses  of  very  high 
magnifying  power  (or  short  focus)  were  produced  until 
a  demand  for  them  had  been  created  by  the  introduction 
of  the  compound  microscope,  in  which  such  lenses  are 
required  as  "  object-glasses  ";  and  the  difficulty  of  working 
lenses  of  high  curvature  with  the  requisite  accuracy  led  in 
the  first  instance  to  the  employment  of  globules  made  by 
fusing  the  ends  of  threads  of  spun  glass.     It  was  in  tk-s 


way  that  Robert  Hooke  shaped  the  minutest  of  the  lenses 
with  which  he  made  many  of  the  numerous  discoveries 
recorded  in  his  Microgrnphia;  and  the  same  method  was 
employed  by  the  Italian  microscopist  Father  Di  Torre.  It 
seems  to  have  been  Leeuwenhoek  that  first  succeeded  in 
grinding  and  polishing  lenses  of  such  short  focus  and 
perfect  figure  as  to  render  the  simple  microscope  a  better 
instrument  for  most  purposes  than  any  compound  micro- 
scope then  constructed, — its  inferiority  in  magnifying  power 
being  more  than  counterbalanced  by  the  superior  clearness 
of  the  retinal  picture.  And,  in  despair  of  any  such  modi- 
fication in  the  compound  form  as  should  remove  the  optical 
defects  which  seemed  inherent  in  its  plan  of  construction, 
scientific  opticians  and  microscopic  observers  alike  gave 
their  chief  attention  for  a  considerable  period  to  the 
improvement  of  the  simple  microscope.  In  order  that  the 
nature  of  these  improvements  may  be  understood,  the 
principle  of  its  action  must  be  first  explained. 

The  normal  human  eye  has  a  considerable  power  of  self- 
adjustment,  by  which  its  focal  length  is  so  varied  that  it 
forms  equally  distinct  pictures  of  objects  brought  within 
ordinary  reading  distance  (say  10  inches)  and  of  objects 
whose  distance  is  many  times  that  length, — the  size  of  the 
visual  picture  of  any  object  diminishing,  however,  with 
the  increase  in  the  distance  to  which  it  is  removed,  and  the 
amount  of  detail  distinguishable  in  it  following  the  same 
proportion.  Thus  a  man  who  looks  across  the  street  at  a 
placard  posted  on  the  opposite  wall  may  very  distinctly  see 
its  general  form  and  the  arrangement  of  its  heading,  and  may 
be  able  to  read  what  is  set  forth  in  its  largest  type,  whilst 
unable  to  separate  the  lines,  stUl  more  to  read  the  words, 
of  what  is  set  forth  below.  But  by  crossing  the  street 
so  as  to  bring  his  eye  nearer  the  picture  he  finds  himself 
able  to  read  the  smaller  tyjje  as  easily  as  he  before  read 
the  larger, — the  visual  picture  on  his  retina  having  been 
magnified,  say  10  times  in  linear  dimension,  by  the 
reduction  of  the  distance  of  his  eye  from  40  feet  to  4. 
Similarly,  if  he  holds  a  page  of  excessively  minute  type  at 
arm's  length  (<ay  40  inches)  from  his  eye,  he  may  be  unable 
to  read  it,  not  because  his  eye  does  not  form  a  distinct 
retinal  picture  of  the  page  at  that  distance,  but  because 
the  details  of  that  picture  are  too  minute  for  him  to 
distinguish  them.  But  if  he  brings  the  page  from  40 
inches  to  10  inches  distance,  he  may  be  able  to  read  it 
without  difficulty,- — the  retinal  picture  being  enlarged  four 
times  linear  (or  sixteen  times  superficial)  by  this  approxi- 
mation. Now  the  rays  that  enter  the  eye  from  each  point 
of  a  remote  object  diverge  so  little  as  to  be  virtually 
parallel ;  but  the  divergence  increases  with  the  approxima- 
tion of  the  object  to  the  eye,  and  at  10  inches  the  angle 
of  their  divergence  is  as  wide  as  permits  the  ordinary  eye 
to  bring  them  to  a  focus  on  the  retina.  When  the  object 
is  approximated  more  closely,  an  automatic  contraction  of 
the  pupil  takes  place,  so  that  the  most  diverging  rays  of 
each  pencil  are  cut  off,  and  a  distinct  picture  may  be 
formed  (though  not  without  a  feeling  of  strain)  when  the 
object  is  (say)  from  5  to  8  inches  distant, — giving  still 
greater  minuteness  of  visual  detail  in  conformity  with  the 
increase  of  size.  A  further  magnifj-ing  power  may  be 
obtained  without  the  interposition  of  any  lens,  by  looking 
at  an  object,  at  2  or  3  inches  distance,  through  a  pin-hole 
in  a  card;  for  by  thus  cutting  off  the  more  divergent 
rays  of  each  pencil,  so  as  to  admit  only  those  which  can 
be  made  to  converge  to  a  focus  on  the  retina  at  that 
distance,  a  distinct  and  detailed  jncture  may  be  obtained, 
though  at  the  expense  of  a  great  loss  of  light.     Moreover, 


MICROSCOPE 


259 


although  an  ordinary  eye  does  not  form  a  distinct  picture 
of  an  object  at  less  than  from  10  to  6  inches  distance,  a 
"  myopic  "  or  "  short-sighted  "  eye  (whose  greater  refractive 
power  enables  it  to  bring  rays  of  wider  divergence  to  a 
focus  on  the  retina)  may  form  an  equally  distinct  picture 
of  an  object  at  from  5  to  3  inches  distance ;  and,  as  the 
linear  dimensions  of  that  picture  will  be  double  that  of  the 
preceding,  the  object  will  be  "  magnified  "  in  that  propor- 
tion, and  its  details  more  clearly  seen. 

The  effect  of  the  interposition  of  a  convex  lens  between 
the  eye  and  an  object  nearly  approximated  to  it  primarily 
consists  in  its  reduption  in  the  divergence  of  the  rays  of 
the  pencils  which  issue  from  its  several  points,  so  that 
they  enter  the  eye  at  the  moderate  divgrgence  which  they 
would  have  if  the  object  were  at  the  ordinary  nearest  limit 
of  distinct  vision.  And,  since  the  shorter  the  focus  of  the 
lens  the  more  closely  may  the  object  be  approximated  to 
the  eye,  the  retinal  picture  is  enlarged,  causing  the  object 
to  appear  maguitied  in  the  same  proportion.  Not  only, 
however,  are  the  component  rays  of  each  pencil  brought 
from  divergence  into  convergence,  but  the  course  of  the 
pencils  themselves  is  changed,  so  that  they  enter  the  eye 
under  an  angle  corresponding  to  that  under  which  they 
would  have  arrived  from  a  larger  object  situated  at  a 
greater  distance ;  and  thus,  as  the  picture  formed  upon  the 
retina  by  the  small  object  ab,  fig.  1,  corresponds  in  all 


Fio,  1. — Action  of  Simple  Microscope. 

respects  with  that  which  would  have  been  made  by  the 
same  object  AB  of  several  times  its  linear  dimension 
viewed  at  the  nearest  ordinary  limit  of  distinct  vision,  the 
object  is  seen  (by  the  formation  of  a  "  virtual  image  ")  on 
a  magnified  scale. 

It  is  obvious  that  the  "  magnifying  power "  of  any 
convex  lens  so  used  is  measured  by  the  ratio  between  the 
dimensions  of  the  retinal  picture  formed  with  its  assistance 
and  those  of  the  picture  formed  by  the  unaided  eye.  Thus, 
if  by  the  use  of  a  convex  lens  having  1  inch  focal  length 
we  can  form  a  distinct  retinal  image  of  an  object  at  only 
an  inch  distance,  this  image  will  have  ten  times  the 
linear  dimensions  of  that  formed  by  the  same  object  at  a 
distance  of  10  inches,  but  will  be  only  eight  times  as  large 
as  the  picture  formed  when  the  object  can  be  seen  by 
ordinary  vision  at  8  inches  distance,  and  only  four  times 
as  large  as  the  picture  of  the  same  object  formed  by  a 
myojMc  eye  at  a  distance  of  4  inches.  It  ig  usual  to 
estimate  the  magnifying  power  of  single  lenses  (or  of  com- 
binations that  are  used  as  such)  by  the  number  of  times  that 
their  focal  length  is  contained  in  10  inches, — that  of  1  inch 
focus  being  thus  taken  as  ten  times,  that  of  ^  inch  as 
one  hundred  times,  and  so  on.  But  the  rule  is  obviously 
arbitrary,  as  the  actual  magnifying  power  varies  in  each 
individual  with  the  nearest  limit  of  distinct  vision.  Thus 
for  the  myopic  who  can  see  an  object  tlearly  at  4  inches 
distance,  the  magnifying  powers  of  a  1  inch  and  ^  inch 
lens  will  be  only  4  and  40  respectively.  The  amplifying 
power  of  every  single  convex  lens,  however,  is  impaired  (1) 
by  that  inability  to  bring  to  the  same  focus  ihe  rays  which 


fall  upon  the  central  and  the'marginal  parts  of  its  surface 
which  is  called  "spherical  aberration,"  and  (2)  by  that 
dispersion  of  the  rays  of  different  wave-lengths,  in  virtue 
of  their  different  refrangibihties,  which  produces  coloured 
fringes  around  the  points  and  lines  of  the  visual  picturej 
and  is  therefore  caUed  "  chromatic  aberration"  (see  Light). 
These  aberrations  increase  with  the  "  angle  of  aperture ", 
given  to  the  lens,  that  is,  with  the  proportion  between  the 
diameter  of  its  actual  "  opening  "  and  the  focal  distance  of 
the  object ;  and  thus,  when  a  single  lens  of  very  short 
focus  is  used  in  order  to  gain  a  high  magnifying  power, 
such  a  reduction  of  its  aperture  by  a  perforated  diaphragm 
or  "stop"  becomes  necessary  (in  order,  by  excluding 
the  peripheral  rays,  to  obtain  tolerable  "definition" 
^vith  freedom  from  false  colour)  that  the  amount  of 
light  admitted  to  the  eye  is  so  small  as  only  to  allow  the 
most  transparent  objects  to  be  thus  viewed,  and  these 
only  very  imperfectly.  In  order  to  remedy  this  draw- 
back, it  was  proposed  by  Sir  D.  Brewster  to  use  instead 
of  glass,  in  the  construction  of  simple  microscopes,  such 
transparent  minerals  as  have  high  refractive  with  low 
dispersive  power ;  in  which  case  the  same  optical  effect 
could  be  obtained  with  lenses  of  much  lower  curvature, 
and  the  aperture  might  be  proportionately  enlarged.  Thi« 
combination  of  qualities  is  found  in  the  diamond,  whose 
index  of  refraction  bears  such  a  proportion  to  that  of  glass 
that  a  diamond  lens  having  a  radius  of  curvature  of  8  would 
give  the  same  magnifying  power  as  a  glass  lens  whose  radius 
of  ciTvature  is  3,  while  the  "longitudinal  aberration" 
(or  distance  between  the  foci  of  central  and  of  marginal 
rays)  would  be  in  a  diamond  lens  only  one-ninth  of  that 
of  a  glass  lens  having  the  same  power  and  aperture.  Put- 
ting aside,  however,  the  costliness  of  the  material  and  the 
difficulty  of  working  it,  a  source  of  imperfection  arises  from 
a  frequent  want  of  homogeneousness  in  the  diamond  crystal, 
which  has  proved  sufficient  to  make  a  lens  worked  from  it 
give  a  double  or  even  a  triple  image.  Similar  attempts 
made  by  Mr  Pritchard  with  sapphire  proved  more  successful; 
and,  as  a  sapphire  lens  having  a  radius  of  curvature  of  5 
has  the  same  focus  and  gives  the  same  magnifying  power 
as  a  crown-glass  lens  having  a  radius  of  3,  it  was  found  to 
bear  a  much  larger  aperture  without  serious  impairment 
by  either  spherical  or  chromatic  aberration.  As  the 
sapphire,  however,  possesses  the  property  of  double  refrac- 
tion, the  duplication  of  the  markings  of  the  object  in  their 
retinal  image  constitutes  a  very  serious  drawback  to  the 
utility  of  lenses  constructed  of  this  mineral;  for,  though 
the  double  refraction  may  be  reduced  almost  to  nothing 
by  turning  the  convex  side  of  the  lens  towards  the  object, 
yet,  as  this  is  the  worst  position  in  regard  to  spherical 
aberration,  more  is  lost  than  is  gained.  Fortunately, 
however,  for  biological  investigators  working  with  simple 
microscopes,  the  introduction  of  the  Wollaston  doublet 
superseded  the  necessity  of  any  further  attempts  at  turning 
costly  jewels  to  account  as  high-power  magnifiers. 

Wollaston  Doublet. — This  consists  of  a  combination  of 
two  plano-convex  lenses,  whose  focal  lengths  (as  directed  by 
Dr  Wollaston)  should  be  as  3  to  1,  with  their  plane  sides 
turned  towards  the  object, — the  smaller  lens  being  placed 
lowest,  and  the  upper  lens  at  a  distance  of  one  and  a  half 
times  its  focal  length  above  it.  This  construction,  how- 
ever, has  been  subsequently  improved — (1)  by  the  introduc- 
tion of  a  perforated  diaphragm  between  the  lenses ;  (2)  by 
a  more  effective  adjustment  of  the  distance  between  the 
two  lenses,  which  seems  to  be  most  satisfactory  when  it 
equals  the  difference  of  their  respective  focal  lengths, 
allowance  being  made  for  their  thickness ;  and  (3)  by  the 
division  of  the  power  of  the  lower  lens  (when  a  shorter 
focus  than  .j^  inch  is  required)  into  two,  so  as  to  form 
a  "triplet."  ,   AVhen  combinations  of  this  kind  are  well 


260 


MICROSCOPE 


fjii^tnictecl,  spherical  aberration  is  almost  wholly  got  rid 
of,  and  chromatic  dispersion  is. so  slight  that  the  angle  of 
ai^rture  may  be  considerably  enlarged  without  much 
sacrifice  of  distinctness.  Such  "  doublets  "  and  "  triijlets," 
having  been  brought  into  use  in  England  while  the  com- 
pound microscope  still  retained  its  original  imperfections, 
proved  very  serviceable  to  such  as  were  at  that  time 
pjrosecuting  min^ite  biological  investigations  :  for  example, 
the  admirable  researches  of  Dr  Sharpey  on  ciliary  action 
in  animals  (1830-35)  and  Mr  Henry  Slack's  beautifid 
dissections  of  the  elementary  tissues  of  plants,  as  well  as 
his  excellent  observations  on  vegetable  cyclosis  (1831), 
were  made  by  their  means.  No  one,  however,  would  now 
use  Wollaston  "  doublets  "  or  "  triplets  "  of  high  power  in 
place  of  a  compound  achromatic  microscope ;  and  for  the 
simple  microscopes  of  low  power  that  are  usefid  either  for 
dissecting  or  for  picking  out  minute  specimens  (such  as 
diatoms)  other  constructions  are  preferable,  as  giving  a 
larger  field  and  more  light.  As  a  hand-magnifier  the 
"  Coddington  "  lens — which  is  a  sphere  of  glass  with  a 
deep  groove  ground  out  of  its  eciuatorial  portion — has 
many  advantages.'  By  making  this  groove  sufficiently 
deep,  both  .spherical  and  chromatic  aberrations  can  be 
rendered  almost  insensible  ;  and,  as  the  rays  falling  on  any- 
part  of  the  spherical  surface  can  only  pass  to  the  eye  either 
through  or  near  the  centre,  the  action  of  every  part  of  that 
surface  is  the  same,  so  that  the  image  of  the  object  will  be 
equally  distinct  (when  properly  focussed)  whether  its  parts 
lie  nearer  to  the  axis  of  the  sphere  or  more  remote  from  it, 
or  the  axis  be  itself  turned  to  one  side  or  the  other.  Again, 
it  was  mathematically  shown  by  Sir  John  Herschel  in  1821 
that  by  the  combination  of  a  meniscus  with  a  double  con- 
vex lens — the  four  surfaces  of  these  lenses  having  certain 
proportionate  curvatures — spherical  aberration  could  be 
entirely  extinguished  for  rays '  parallel  to  the  axis,  the 
combination  being  thus  an  "aplanatic"  doublet,  while 
another  combination,  which  he  termed  a  "  periscopic " 
doublet,  gives  a  remarkable  range  of  oblique  vision  with 
low  powers,  and  almost  entirely  extinguishes  chromatic 
aberration,  although  at  the  expense  of  residual  spherical 
aberration.  These  combinations  have  been  mounted  both 
as  hand-magnifiers  and  as  single  microscojies,  for  both 
which  purposes  they  are  much  superior  to  single  lenses  of 
the  same  magnifying  power.  But  such  combinations  have 
been  greatly  improved  by  the  introduction  of  concaves  of 
flint  glass,  so  as  to  render  them  achromatic  as  well  as 
aplanatic ;  and  nothing,  according  to  the  wTiter's  experi- 
ence, can  now  be  used  with  greater  advantage  for  all  the 
purposes  answered  either  by  the  simple  microscope  or 
the  hand-magnifier  than  Browning's  "  platyscopic  "  lenses 
or  the  "achromatic  doublets"  of  Steinheil  of  ilunich. 
Each  of  these  combinations  gives  a  large  flat  field,  with 
plenty  of  light,  admirable  definition,  and  freedom  from 
false  colour. 

At  the  perioa  wncn  "  doublets"  of  very  short  focus  were  used  in 
order  to  obtain  high  maguifying  jKiwer,  it  was  requisite  to  mo\mt 
these  on  such  a  stand  as  woulil  enable  the  focal  ailjustment  to  bo 
made,  and  would  admit  the  use  of  a  special  illuniinatiii';  apj^aratus 
with  great  exactne-s-s.  But  now  that  comiiaiativcly  low  powers 
©nly  are  employed  tlie  ordinary  rack-aud-piiiiouniovemcnt  is  quite 
Butficicnt  for  tlieir  focal  adjustnicut,  and  uotliing  more  is  reciuired 


*  It  is  difficult  to  undcrstaud  how  the  imuio  of  Coddington  came  to 
be  attached  to  the  grooved  sphere,  seeing  that  he  neither  was  nor 
claimed  to  be  the  inventor  of  it.  Dr  Wollaston's  first  "doublet" 
consisted  of  a  pair  of  plano-convex  lenses  with  their  piano  surfaces 
opposed  to  each  other,  and  a  diaphragm  with  central  aperture  placed 
between  tliem.  Sir  D.  Brewster  showed  that  this  construction  is  most 
advantageous  when  the  two  lenses  ni-e  heniisi)lieres,  and  the  central 
aperture  between  their  two  plane  surfaces  is  filled  up  by  a  transparent 
cement  having  the  same  refractive  index  r.8  glass.  And  from  this  the 
transition  is  obvious  to  the  grooved  sphere,  which  had  been  made  for 
Sir  D.  J^rewster  long  before  the  high  commendation  it  received  from 
Mr  Cuddingtou  brought  it  into  general  repute.  - 


for  the  illumination  of  the  object  than  a  concave  mirror  beneith 
the  stage  when  it  is  transjiaicnt,  and  a  condensing  lens  above  when 
it  is  oitaque.  The  vaiious  patterns  of  simple  microscope  now  mado 
by  ditlerent  makers  vary  in  their  construction,  chiefly  in  regard  to 
portability,  the  size  of  their  stages,  aud  tlie  mode  in  which  "  re»ta" 
or  supports  to  the  hands  are  provided.  Tliese,  in  Continental  in- 
struments, arc  very  comuiouly  attached  to  the  stage  ;  but,  unless 
the  stage  itself  and  t!ie  pillar  to  whicli  it  is  fixed  are  extremely 
massive,  the  resting  of  the  hands  ou  the  supports  i$  apt  to  depress 
tht  stage  in  a  degree  that  aflccts  the  local  adjustment ;  and  where 
portability  is  not  an  object  it  seems  better  that  the  hand-supports 
sliould  be  independent  of  the  stage.  For  a  laboratory  microscoi>e, 
the  pattern  represented  iu  fig.  2  has  been  found  very  convcniont, — 
the  framework  beioz  of  mahogany  or  other  hard  wood,  the  stage 


^i^ 


Fig.  2, 


being  large  enough  to  admit  a  dissection  or  carry  a  water-trough 
of  considerable  size,  aud  the  bent  aiTO  that  can'ics  the  "powers" 
being  made  capable  of  revereion,  so  as  to  permit  the  use  of  lenses 
of  very  long  as  well  as  of  very  short  focus.  As  it  is  desirable  that 
the  stage  should  not  be  acted  on  chemically  by  sea-water,  acids,  or 
other  reagents,  it  may  be  made  either  of  a  square  of  plate-glass  or  o( 
a  plate  of  ebonite  with  an  apertui-e  in  the  middle  ;  and  cither  of 
these  may  be  made  to  slide  iu  grooves  in  the  side  supports,  so  that 
one  may  be  substituted  for  the  other.  The  ami  may  be  easily 
made  (if  desired)  to  carry  the  body  of  a  compound  microscope,  so 
as  to  apply  it  to  the  examination  of  objects  dissected  or  othcrwiso 
prepared  under  the  simple  microscope,  without  transferring  them 
to  another  instrument.  A  portable  form  of  simidc  microscope  is 
shown  in  fig.  30. 

Compound  iticroicope. — The  placing  of  two  convex  lenses 
in  such  relative  positions  that  one  should  magnify  an 
enlarged  image  of  a  small  near  object  formed  by  the  other 
naturally  soon  followed  the  invention  of  the  telescope,  and 
seems  to  have  first  occurred  to  Hans  Zansz  or  his  son 
Zacharias  Zansz,  spectacle-makers  at  Mi.ldelburg  in  Hol- 
land, about  l.'iOO.  One  of  their  compound  microscope.', 
which  they  presented  to  Prince  Maurice,  was  in  the  year 
1G17  in  the  possession  of  Cornelius  Drebell  of  Alkmaar, 
who  then  resided  in  London  as  mathematician  to  king 
James  I.  In  order  to  make  clear  the  successive  stages  by 
which  the  rude  and  imperfect  microscope  of  that  period 
has,  after  remaining  for  two  centuries  unimproved  in  any 
essential  particular,  been  developed  within  the  last  half- 
century  into  one  of  the  most  important  instruments  of 
scientific  research  that  the  combination  of  theoretical 
acumen  and  manipulative  skill  has  ever  produced,  it  i^« 
necessary  to  explain  the  principle  of  its  construction,  and 
to  show  wherein  lay  the  imperfection  of  its  earlier  form. 

In  its  simplest  con.struction,  as  already  stated,  tho 
comix)und  microscope  consists  of  only  two  lenses, — tho 
"object-glass"  CD,  fig.  3,  which  receives  the  light-rays  direct 
from  the  object  AB  placed  near  it,  and  forms  an  enlarged 
but  reversed  image  A'B'  at  a  greater  distance  on  the  other 
side,  and  tlie  "eye-glass"  LM,  which  receives  the  rays  that 
diverge  from  the  several  points  of  this  image  as  if  they, 
proceeded  from  the  iioints  of  an  actual  object  occupying 
the  position  and  enlarged  to  the  dimensions  A'B',  and 
.brings  these  to  the  eye  at  E,  so  altering  their  course  as  to 


MICROSCOPE 


261 


«ct  as  &  simple  microtcope  in  magnifying  that  image  to  the 
observer.  It  was  early  found  useful,  however,  to  interpose 
another  lens  FF,  fig.  4  (the  "  field-glass "),  between  the 
object-glass  and  the  image  formed  by  it,  for  the  purpose 
of  giving  such  a  slight  convergence  to  the  pencil  of  rays  as 
shall  reduce  the  dimensions  of  the  image,  and  thus  allow 
a  larger  part  of  it  to  come  within  the  range  of  the  eye- 


flG.  3.— Di;igram  of  Siiinilest 
FoiT)  of  Cooipou&d  Micro- 


—  Diagrnui  of  Complete 
Compound  Microscope. 


glass,  so  that  more  of  the  object  can  be  seen  at  once. 
And  it  was  soon  perceived  that  the  eye-glass  and  the 
field-glass  might  be  advantageously  combined  into  an 
"eye-piece,"  in  which  a  perforated  diaphragm  might  be 
inserted  at  the  focal  plane  of  the  image  (i.e.,  in  the  focus  of 
the  eye-glass),  so  as,  by  cutting  ofi  the  peripheral  portion 
of  the  field  of  view,  to  limit  it  to  what  can  be  seen  with 
tolerable  distinctness. 

It  is  obvious  that  the  magnifying  power  of  such  an 
instrument  would  depend  (I)  on  the  proportion  between 
the  size  of  the  image  formed  at  BB  and  that  of  the 
actual  object,  and  (2)  upon  the  magnifj-ing  power  of  the 
eye-glass.  And  further  the  proportion  which  the  size  of 
the  image  bears  to  that  of  the  object  depends  upon  two 
factors, — (1)  the  focal  length  of  the  object-glass,  and 
(2)  the  distance  between  the  object-glass  and  the  plane 
BB  occupied  by  the  image  it  forms.  If  we  diminish 
the  focal  length  of  the  object-glass,  the  object  must  be 
brought  nearer  to  it,  so  that,  while  the  distance  of  the 
image  on  the  other  side  remains  unchanged,  that  distance 
comes  to  bear  a  larger  proportion  to  the  distance  of  the 
otject,  and  the  sizo  of  the  image  is  augmented  in  a  cor- 
responding ratio.  On  the  other  hand,  the  object-glass 
remaining  unchanged,  the  distance  at  which  it  forms  the 
image  of  the  object  can  be  increased  by  a  lengthening  of  the 
tube  of  the  microscope ;  and,  as  this  involves  a  shortening 


of  tho  distance  between  the  object-glass  and  the  object,  the 
proportion  which  the  former  bears  to  the  latter  is  augmented, 
and  the  image  is  correspondingly  enlarged.  Thus  an 
increase  in  the  magnifying  power  of  the  compound  micro-, 
scope  may  be  gained  in  three  modes,  which  may  be  used 
either  separately  or  in  double  or  triple  combination, — viz., 
(1)  shortening  the  focus  of  the  object-glass,  (2)  lengthening 
the  tube  of  the  microscope,  and  (3)  increasing  the  magnify- 
ing power  of  the  eye-glass  by  shortening  its  focus.  This, 
it  may  be  remarked,  also  lengthens  the  distance  of  the 
image  from  the  object-glass,  by  bringing  the  focal  plane 
BB  nearer  the  eye-glass.  The  second  of  these  methods 
was  not  unfrequently  used  in  the  older  microscopes,  which 
were  sometimes  made  to  draw  out  like  telescopes,  so  as  to 
increase  the  amplifying  power  of  their  object-glasses.  But, 
whilst  very  inconvenient  to  the  observer,  such  a  lengthen- 
ing of  the  one  distance  involved  such  a  shortening  of  the 
other  as  greatly  impaired  the  distinctness  of  the  image  by 
increasing  the  aberrations  of  the  object-glass,  so  that  this 
method  came  to  be  generally  abandoned  for  one  of  the  other 
two. 

When  lenses  of  from  1  to  4  inches  focus  were  used  as 
object-glasses,  and  their  apertures  were  restricted  by  a  stop 
to  the  central  part  of  each,  tolerably  distinct  images  were 
given  of  the  larger  structural  arrangements  of  such  objects  as 
s.ections  of  wood  or  the  more  transparent  wings  of  insects, — 
which  images  would  beer  a  further  moderate  gnlargement 
by  the  eye-glass  without  any  serious  deterioration  either  by 
want  of  definition  or  the  introduction  of  colour-fringes. 
But  when  lenses  of  less  than  1  inch  focus  were  employed 
in  order  to  obtain  a  higher  magnifying  power,  the  greater 
obliquity  of  the  rays  so  greatly  increased  their  aberrations 
that  defective  definition  and  the  introduction  of  false 
colours  went  far  to  nullify  any  advantage  obtainable  from 
the  higher  amplification ;  while  the  limitation  of  the 
aperture  required  to  keep  these  aberrations  within  even 
moderate  limits  occasioned  such  a  loss  of  light  as  most 
seriously  to  detract  from  the  value  of  the  picture.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  use  of  deeper  eye-pieces  to  enlarge  the 
images  formed  by  the  object-glasses  not  only  brought  out 
more  strongly  all  the  defects  of  those  images,  but  introduced 
a  new  set  of  errors  of  their  own,  so  that  very  little  was 
gained  by  that  mode  of  amplification.  Hence  many  of  the 
best  of  the  older  microscopists  (notably  Leettwenhoek, 
q.v.)  made  some  of  their  most  valuable  discoveries  by  the 
use  of  the  simple  microscope;  and  the  amount  of  excellent 
work  thus  done  surprises  every'  one  who  studies  the  history^ 
of  microscopic  inquiry.  This  was  still  more  the  case,  as 
already  stated,  when  the  use  of  single  lenses  of  very  short 
focus  was  superseded  by  the  introduction  of  the  Wollaston 
doublet.  And  the  substitution  of  these  doublets  for  the 
single  lenses  of  object-glasses,  while  the  single  lens  of  the 
eye-glass  was  replaced  by  a  Herschel's  aplanatic  doublet, 
and  the  field-glass  was  a  convex  lens  whose  two  curves  had 
the  proportion  of  1 : 6  (the  form  of  least  spherical  aberra- 
tion), constituted  the  greatest  improvement  of  which,  the 
instrument  seemed  capable  in  pre-achromatic  times.  i( 

It  has  been  only  within  the  last  sixty  years  (1820-30) 
that  the  microscope  has  undergone  the  important  improve- 
ment which  had  been  worked  out  by  Dollond  in  the 
refracting  telescope  more  than  sixty  years  previously, — • 
namely,  the  correction  of  the  chromatic  aberration  of  its 
objectives  by  the  combination  of  concave  lenses  of  flinfri 

*  This  combination  was  made  in  the  first  microscope  of  which  th* 
writer  became  possessed,  about  the  year  1830  ;  and  he  well  recollect? 
the  great  superiority  to  any  compound  microscope  of  the  old  coustrac^ 
tion  which  was  proved  by  its  power  of  separating  the  lines  oa  the 
Menelaus  scale,  and  of  bringing  into  view  the  details  of  the  structure  of 
animalcules,  with  a  clearness  that  only  an  achromatized  obj«ct-glbS4 
could  surpass. 


202 


MICROSCOPE 


glass  with  convex  lenses  of  crown,  wluie  their  spherical 
aberration  is  corrected  by  the  combination  (as  in  Herschel's 
aplanatic  doublet)  of  convex  and  concave  surfaces  o; 
different  curvatures.  The  minute  size  and  high  curvature 
of  the  lenses  required  as  microscopic  objectives  were  long 
considered  as  altogether  precluding  the  possibility  of  success 
in  the  production  of  such'  combinations,  more  especially 
as  the  conditions  they  would  have  to  meet  differ  altogether 
from  those  under  which  telescopic  object-glasses  are 
employed.  For  the  rays  from  distant  objects  fall  upon  the 
latter  with  virtual  parallelism ;  and  the  higher  the  power 
required  the  longer  is  the  focus  given  to  them,  and  the 
smaller  is  the  deflexion  of  the  rays.  In  the  microscope,  on 
the  other  hand,  the  object  is  so  closely  approximated  to  the 
objective  that  the  rays  which  proceed  to  it  from  the  latter 
have  always  a  very  considerable  divergence ;  and  the 
deflexion  to  which  they  are  subjected  increases  with  that 
reduction  of  the  focal  length  of  the  objective  which  is 
the  necessary  condition  of  the  increase  of  its  magnifying 
power.  And  thus,  although  the  telescopic  "triplet" 
worked  out  by  DoUond  (consisting  of  a  double-concave  of 
flint  glass,  interposed  between  two  double-convex  lenses  of 
crown)  can  be  so  constructed  as  to  be  not  only  completely 
aplanatic  (or  free  from  spherical  aberration)  but  almost 
completely  achromatic  (or  free  from  chromatic  aberration), 
this  construction  is  only  suitable  for  microscopic  objectives 
of  long  focus  and  small  angular  aperture,  the  rays  falling 
on  which  have  but  a  very  moderate  divergence.  And 
though,  as  will  presently  appear,  some  of  the  early  attempts 
at  the  achromatization  of  the  microscope  were  made  in 
this  direction,  it  was  soon  abandoned  for  other  plans  of 
construction,  which  were  found  to  be  alike  theoretically 
and  practically  superior. 

It  seems  to  have  been  by  Professor  Amici,  then  of 
Modena,  about  1812,  that  the  first  attempts  were  made  at 
the  achromatization  of  microscopic  objectives ;  but,  these 
attempts  not  proving  successful,  he  turned  his  attention  to 
the  production  of  a  reflecting  microscope,  which  was  a 
decided  improvement  upon  the  non-achromatized  compound 
microscopes  then  in  use.  In  the  year  1820,  however,  the 
subject  was  taken  up  by  Selligues  and  Chevalier  of  Paris, 
who  adopted  the  plan  of  superposing  three  or  four  com- 
binations, each  consisting  of  a  double-convex  of  crown 
cemented  to  a  plano-concave  of  flint,  The  back  combina- 
tion (that  nearest  to  the  eye)  was  of  somewhat  lower  power 
than  those  placed  in  front  of  it,  but  these  last  were  all  of 
the  same  focus,  and  no  attempt  was  made  by  these  opticians 
to  vary  the  construction  of  the  several  pairs  thus  united, 
80  as  to  make  them  correct  each  others'  aberrations. 
Hence,  although  a  considerable  magnifying  power  could 
be  thus  obtained,  with  an  almost  complete  extinction  of 
chromatic  aberration,  the  aperture  of  these  objectives 
could  not  be  greatly  widened  without  the  impairment  of 
the  distinctness  of  the  image  by  a  "coma"  proceeding 
from  uncorrected  spherical  aberration. 

In  ignorance,  it  would  appear,  of  what  was  being  done 
by  the  Paris  opticians,  and  at  the  instigation  of  Dr  Goring 
(a  scientific  amateur),  Mr  TuUey — well  known  in  London 
as  an  able  constructor  of  telescopic  objectives — began, 
about  the  year  1824,  to  work  object-glasses  for  the  micro- 
scoiie  on  the  telescopic  plan.  After  many  trials '  he 
succeeded,  in  182.'),  in  producing  a  triplet  of  .j?^  inch  focus, 
admitting  a  pencil  of  18°,  which  was  so  well  corrected  as 
to  perform  very  satisfactorily  with  an  eye-piece  giving  a 
magnifying  power  of  120  diameters.  He  afterwards  made 
a  similar  triplet  of  shorter  focus,  which,  when  placed  in 


*  It  ia  due  to  Mr  Joseph  J.  Lister  to  mention  that  Tullcy's  final 
success  with  this  low  power  seems  to  have  been  attained  by  working 
on  a  suggestion  given  him  by  that  genl\eman.  See  Mmtliti/  Micro- 
teopical  Journal,  vol.  iii.  (1870),  p.  Mi. 


front  of  tne  previous  one,  increased  the  angle-  !)f  the  -trans- 
mitted pencil  to  38°,  and  !>"■■«  an  eye-piece  giving 'a 
magnifying  power  of  300  diaiieter.s.  These  triplets  are 
said  by  Mr  Ross  to  have  never  been  excAded  by  any  similar 
combinations  for  accurate  correction  throughout  the  field.  ' 
Having  come  into  possessionj  at  the  end  of  1826,  of 
an  objective  of  Chevalier's  construction,  Mr  J.  J.  Lister 
carefully  examined  its  'properties,  and  compared  them  with 
those  of  TuUey's  triplets ;  and  this  comparison  having  led 
him  to  institute  further  experiments  he  obtained  results 
which  were  at  first  so  conflicting  that  they  must  have 
proved  utterly  bewildering  to  a  less  acute  mind,^  but  ■^hich 
finally  led  him  to  the  enunciation  of  the  principle  on  which 
all  the  best  microscopic  objectives  are  now  constructed. 
For  he  discovered  that  the  performance  of  such  com- 
posite objectives  greatly  depends  upon  the  relative  position 
of  their  component  combinations, — the  effect  of  the  flint 
plano-concave  upon  the  spherical  aberration  produced  by 
the  double-convex  of  crown  varying  remarkably  according 
to  the  distance  of  the  luminous  point  from  the  front  of  the 
objective..  If  the  radiant  is  at  a  considerable  distance,  tlTe 
vays  proceeding  from  it  have  their  spherical  error  under- 
corrected  ;  but,  as  the  source  of  light  is  brought  nearer  to 
the  glass,  the  flint  lens  produces  greater  proportionate 
effect,  and  the  under-correction  diminishes,  until  at  length 
a  point  is  reached  where  it  disappears  entirely,  the  rays 
being  all  brought  to  one  point  at  the  conjugate  focus  of 
the  lens.  This,  then,  is  one  aplanatic  focus.  If,  however, 
the  luminous  point  is  brought  still  nearer  to  the  glass,  the 
influence  of  the  flint  continues  for  a  time  to  increase,  and 
the  opposite  condition  of  over-correction  shows  itself.  ,  But,' 
on  still  further  approximation  of  the  radiant,  the, flint 
comes  to  operate  with  less  effect,  the  excess  of  correction 
diminishes  and  at  a  point  still  nearer  to  the  glass  vanishes,* 
and  a  second  aplanatic  focus,  appears.  ^From  this  point 
onwards  under-correction  takes  the  place  of  over-correction,^ 
and  increases  till  the  object  touches  the  surf  ace  .  of ,  the- 
glass.  As  every  such  doublet,  therefore,  has  two  aplanatic 
foci  for  all  points  between  which  it  is  over-corrected,  while 
for  all  points  beyond  it  is  under-corrected,  the  optician  is 
enabled  to  combine  two  or  more  doublets  with  f  perfect 
security  against  spherical  error.  This  will  beientirely 
avoided  if  the  rays  be  received  by  the  front  glass  from  its 
shorter  aplanatic  focus,  and  transmitted  through  the  back 
glass  in  the  direction  of  its  longer  aplanatic  pencil.WBy 
the  approximation  of  the  two  doublets  over-correction  will 
be  reduced,  while  their  separation  will  produce  under-cor- 
rection ;  and  thus,  by  merely  varying  the  distance  between 
two  such  combinations,  the  correction  of .  the  spherical 
error  may  be  either  increased  or  diminished  according  to  a 
definite  rule.  Slight  defects  in  one  glass  may  thus  be 
remedied  by  simply  altering  its  position  in  relation  to  the 
other, — an  alteration  which  may  be  made  with  very  little 
disturbance  of  the  colour-correction.  ■  This  important 
principle  was  developed  and  illustrated  by  Mr  Lister  in  a 
memoir  read  to  the  Royal  Society  on  January  2J,  1830, 
On  some  Properties  in  Achromatic  Object-glasses,  applicable 
to  the  Improvement  of  the  Microscope ;  and  it  was  by  work- 
ing on  the  lines  there  laid  down  that  the  three  London 
opticians    Ross,'   Powell,    and   James    Smith    soon   pro- 


'  Thus  he  found  that,  while  each  of  Chevalier's  doublet  combina- 
tions, when  used  siugly,  presented  a  "bur"  or  "coma"  outwards, 
this  coma,  instead  of  being  exaggerated  by  the  combination  of  two  of 
these  doublets,  was  much  diminished.  Or  the  other  hand,  while 
two  of  Tulley's  triplets,  each  of  which  performed  admirably  by 
itself,  were  used  together,  the  images  of  all  objects  not  in  the  centre 
presented  a  strong  bur  inwards  with  an  under-correction  of  colour^  i§M 

3  In  1837  Mr  Lister  gave  Mr  Ross  a  projection  for  an  objective  of 
\  inch  focus,  in  which  a  triple  front  was  combined  with  two  doublets. 
The  great  superiority  of  this  lens,  admirably  executed  by  Mr  Ross,  caused* 
him  to  adopt  its  plan  as  the  standard  one  for  high  powers;  and  it  is  still 
in  general  use, — the  back  leus  aUo  being  sometimes  made  as  a  tripleL 


MICROSCOPE 


263 


laced  microscopic  objectives  that  surpassed  any  then  con- 
itruct^  on  the  Continent,  while  the  subsequent  adoption 
of  the  same  principles  by  French  and  German  opticians, 
as  also  by  Professor  Amici  x)f  Florence,  soon  raised  their 
objectives  to  a  corresponding  level. 

It  has  proved  more  advantageous  in  practice  to 
make  the  several  components  of  an  achromatic  objective 
correct  each  others'  aberrations  than  to  attempt  to  render 
each  perfect  in  itself;  and  the  mode  in  which  this  is 
accomplished  will  vary  with  the  focus  and  angiilar  aperture 
given  to  each  combination.  Thus,  whOe  a  single  "  telescopic 
triplet "  answers  very  well  for  the  lowest  power  usually 
made  (4  inches  focus),  and  the  same  plan  may  be  used — 
though  at  the  sacrifice  of  angular  aperture — for  objectives 
of  3  inches,  2  inches,  and  even  1  inch  focus,  the  best  per- 
formance of  these  powers  requires  the  combination  of  two 
doublets.  And,  while  this  last  system  also  serves  for 
objectives  of  f  inch  and  J  inch  of  low  angle,  a  third  com- 
ponent is  required  for  giving  to  these  objectives  the 
aperture  that  renders  them  most  serviceable,  as  well  as  for 
all  higher  powers.  Instead  of  combining  three  achromatic 
doublets,  however,  many  makers  prefer  placing  in  front  a 
plano<onvex  of  crOFn,  and  adding  a  third  lens  of  crown  to 
the  doublet  at  the  back,  still  using  a  doublet  in  the  middle, — 
the  whole  combination  thus  consisting  of  six  lenses,  four 
of  crown  and  two  of  flint.  Further,  Mr  Wenham  has 
shown  that  the  whole  colour-correction  may  be  effected  in 
the  middle  by  interposing  a  double  concave  of  dense  flint 
between  two  double-convex  lenses  of  crown, — the  back  lens, 
as  well  as  the  front,  being  then  a  plano-convex  of  crown, 
making  five  lenses  in  all.  This  plan  of  construction,  though 
suitable  to  objectives  of  moderate  angular  aperture,  and 
advantageous  in  regard  to  comparative  simplicity  and 
economy  of  construction,  does  not  seem  so  well  adapted  for 
objectives  to  which  the  largest  attainable  aperture  is  to  be 
given, — these  being  usually  constructed  with  a  triplet  in 
front,  a  doublet  in  the  middle,  and  a  triplet  at  the  back,  so 
as  to  consist  of  eight  separate  lenses.  And  the  first-class 
constructors  of  achromatic  objectives  in  the  United  States 
usually  place  in  front  of  these,  in  their  highest  powers,  a 
single  plano-convex  of  crown,  by  the  addition  of  which  a 
greater  working  distance  can  be  obtained.  But,  as  every 
such  addition  increases  the  liability  to  error  from  imper- 
fections in  the  centring  and  grinding  of  the  lenses  (as 
well  as  loss  of  light  by  the  partial  reflexion  of  oblique 
rays  from  their  surfaces),  it  is  obvious  that  the  most  exact 
workmanship,  involving  a  proportionate  costliness,  is 
required  to  bring  out  the  full  effect  of  such  complex  con- 
struction. And  where  angular  aperture  is  regarded  as  the 
quality  of  primary  importance  it  will  be  usually  found 
preferable  to  have  recourse  to  objectives  constructed  on 
either  the  "  water  "  or  the  "  oil "  immersion  system,  to  be 
presently  described. 

The  great  increase  thus  attained  in  the  perfection 
of  the  corrections  of  microscopic  objectives  for  both 
spherical  and  chromatic  aberration  of  course  rendered 
it  possible  to  make  a  corresponding  increase  in  their 
angular  aperture.  The  minute  scales  of  the  wings  of 
butterflies  and  other  insects  were  naturally  among  the 
objects  much  examined ;  and  it  was  soon  perceived  that 
certain  lines  and  other  markings  became  clearly  discernible 
on  these  scales  with  objectives  of  what  was  then  considered 
large  angle  which  were  utterly  undistinguishable  with 
non-achromatized  microscopes  (however  high  their  magnify- 
ing power),  and  very  imperfectly  shown  under  achromatic 
objectives  of  small  angle.  Hence  these  scales  came  to  be 
used  as  "  tesfcobjects,"  for  judging  of  the  "  definition  "  and 
"  resolving  power  "  of  microscopic  objectives, — the  former  J 
property  consisting  in  the  clearness,  sharpness,  and  freedom 
from  false  colour  of  the  microscopic  images  of  boundary  I 


lines,  ana  depending  on  the  accuracy  with  which  the  aber- 
rations are  corrected,  while  the  latter  term  designates  that 
power  of  separating  very  closely  approximated  markings 
which  is  now  known  to  be  a 
"function"  of  aperture.  The 
insect-scales  formerly  most  valued 
for  these  purposes  were  those  of 
the  Morpko  menelaus  (fig.  5)  and 
the  similarly  lined  scales  of  the 
Polyommatus  argus  (a2ure-blue), 
the  "battledoor"  scales  of  the 
same  butterfly  (fig.  6),  the  ribbed 
scales  of  the  Lepisma  sacckarina 
(sugar-louse),  and  the  minute  and 
jjeculiarly  marked  scales  of  the 
Zepidocyrtus  curvicollis  (fig.  7), 
commonly  known  as  the  Podura. 
The  writer  recollects  the  time 
when  the  satisfactory  "resolu- 
tion "  of  the  first,  three  of  these 
tests  w^as  considered  a  suflScient 
proof  of  the  goodness  of  even 
high-power  objectives,  and  when 
the  Porfura-markings,  if  visible  at  all,  could  only  be  dia-, 
tinguished  as  striae.  The  further  opening-out  of  the 
aperture,  however,  enabled  these  strias 
to  be  resolved  into  rows  of  "  exclama- 
tion marks  " ;  and,  while  there  is  still 
some  uncertainty  as  to  the  precise  If 
structure  of  which  these  markings  are  j 
the  optical  expression,  practical  op- 
ticians are  generally  agreed  that  the 
/"orfwra-scale  is  very  useful  as  a  test 
for  definition,  with  even  the  highest 
objectives,  though  it  only  serves  as  a 
test  for  a  very  moderate  degree  of  re- 
solving power.  For  the  latter  purpose 
it  has  been  completely  superseded  by 
the  closely  approximated  markings  of 
the  siUcified  envelopes  of  certain  p,g  g  _  Battledoor 
diatoms  (which,  however,  show  them  Scale  of  Polyomma- 
selves  in  very  different  aspects  accord  '""  argus. 
ing  to  the  conditions  under  which  they  are  viewea,  figs. 
8-11),  and  also  by  lines  artificially  ruled  on  glass,  as  ia 
Nobert's  "test-plate,"  the  number  * 

of  lines  in  the  nineteen  bands  of 
which  is  stated  by  M.  Nobert 
to  range  from  1000  to  10,000 
to  a  Paris  line,  while  Dr  Royston 
Pigott  gives  the  numbers  in  an 
English  inch  as  11,529  to  the  inch 
in  the  first  band,  and  112,595 
in  the  nineteenth.  This  last 
dimension  (as  will  afterwards 
appear}  approaches  the  minimum 
distance  at  which  such  markings 
are  theoretically  separable  by  any 
magnifying  power  of  the  micro- 
scope. 

The  enlargement  of  the  angle 
of  aperture  of  microscopic  ob- 
jectives and  the  greater  complete- 
ness of  their  corrections,  which 
were  obtained  in  the  first  in- Fio.  7.— Test-Scales  of  Podur» 
stance  by  the  adoption  of  Mr  ^J::^i^^tZ>47'^i^ 
Lister  s  principles,  and  were  de-  scale ;  B,  email  scale  mor» 
monstrated  by  the  resolution  of  ftiotly  marked, 
the  test-objects  then  in  use,  soon  rendered  sensible  fta 
imperfection  in  their  performance  under  certain  circum- 
stances, which  had  previously  passed  unnoticed;  and  th^ 


264 


MICROSCOPE 


important  discovery  was  made  by  Mr  Andrew  Ross  that 
a  very  decided  difference  exists  in  the  precision  of  the 
image  according  as  the  object  is  viewed  with  or  mthout 
a  covering  of  thin  glass,  as  also  according  as  this  cover  is 
thin  or  thick. ^  As  this  difference  increases  in  proportion 
to  the  widening  of  the  aperture,  it  would  obviously  be  a 


TfUff  Tf 


;  :E  5 

.  -  -s  - 

i±i 

::  = 

zl'il't 

=1 

:  :  5 

! ;  s 

I',  s 

= : : :  ®  ^gp 

iig.  10.  Fig.  n. 

Portions  of  Siliceous  Valve  of  Pleurosi^p^ia  angnlatum,  from  a  Photo- 
graph taken  by  Central  Illumination.    Magnified  2000  diametei-s. 

source  of  great  error  and  embarrassment  if  a  means  could 
not  be  found  for  its  rectification.  Its  optical  source,  how- 
ever, having  been  found  by  Mr  Ross  to  lie  in  the 
."negative  aberration"  which  is  produced  in  the  rays 
proceeding  from  the  object  to  the  front  glass  of  the  objec- 
tive by  the  interposition  of  the  plane-glass  cover,  and 
which  increases  with  its  thickness,  his  practical  ability 
enabled  him  at  the  same  tinte  to  indicate  the  remedy, 
which  consists  in  under-correcting  the  front  lens  and  over- 
correcting  the  two  pos- 
terior combinations,  and 
in  making  the  distance 
between  the  former  and 
the  latter  capable  of 
adjustment  by  means  of 
a  screw-collar,  as  sho\ra 
in  fig.  12.  For  when^ 
the  front  pair  is  approxi-  g 
mated  most  nearly  to  the 
next,  and  its  distance 
from  the  object  is  in- 
creased, its  excess  of 
positive  aberration  is 
more  strongly  exerted 
upon  the  other  two  pairs 
than  it  is  in  the  con-Fio.  12.— Section  of  Ailjusting  Achromatic 
trary  conditions,  and  0'^J''"='-G'''»»-  A,  uncovered  ;  B,  covcr«L 
thus  neutralizes  the  negative  aberration  produced  by  the 
interposition  of  the  covering-glass.  This  correction  is  not 
needed  for  objectives  of  .low  or  medium  jiower  and  small 
angle  of  aperture  ;  but  it  should  always  bo  provided  when 
the  angle  exceeds  50°, — unless  (as  is  now  generally  done 

'  Trans.  Soc.  of  Arts,  vol.  li 


in  the  case  of  objectives  constnicted .  for  students'  use) 
the  maker  adjusts  them  originally,  not  for  uncovered 
objects,  but  for  objects  covered  with  glass  of  a  standard 
thickness,  say  000.5  or  0-004  inch.  A  departure  from 
that  standard  to  the  extent  of  one  or  two  thousandths  of 
an  inch  in  either  direction,  though  extremely  injurious 
to  the  performance  of  objectives  whoso  aperture  is  125°  or 
more,  scarcely  makes  itself  perceptible  in  those  of  90°  or 
100°.  And  the  .same  may  be  said  in  regard  to  the 
immersion-objectives  next  to  be  described,  which  are 
peculiarly  suitable  to  the  purposes  of  minute  histological 
research. 

Immersion  System. — It  was  long  since  pomted  out  by 
Professor  Amici  that  the  introduction  of  a  drop  of  water 
between  the  front  surface  of  the  objective  and  either  the 
object  itself  or  its  covering-glass  would  diminish  the  loss 
of  light  resulting  from  the  pas.sage  of  the  rays  from  the 
object  or  its  covering-glass  into  air,  and  from  air  into  the 
front  glass  of  the  objective.  It  was  obvious  to  him,  more- 
over, that  when  the  rays  enter  the  object-glass  from  water, 
instead  of  from  air,  both  its  refractive  and  its  dispersive 
action  will  be  so  gi-catly  changed  as  to  need  an  important 
constructive  modification  to  meet  the  new  condition.  This 
modification  seems  never  to  have  been  successfully  effected 
by  Amici  himself ;  but  his  idea  was  taken  up  by  the  two 
eminent  Paris  opticians,  JlJf.  Hartnack  and  Nachet,  who 
showed  that  the  application  of  what  is  now  known  as  the 
"  immersion  system  "  to  objectives  of  short  focus  and  large 
angular  aperture  is  attended,  not  merely  with  the  advan- 
tages expected  by  Professor  Amici,  but  with  others  on  which 
he  did  not  reckon.  As  the  loss  of  light  by  the  reflexion  of 
a  portion  of  the  incident  rays  increases  with  the  obliquity 
of  their  incidence,  and  as  the  proportional  loss  is  far  smaller 
when  the  oblique  rays  pass  into  glass  from  water  than 
when  they  enter  it  from  air,  the  advantage  of  increas- 
ing the  angular  aperture  is  more  fully  experienced 
with  "immersion"  than  with  "dry"  objectives, — just  as 
Professor  Amici  anticipated.  But,  further,  the  immer- 
sion system  allows  of  a  greater  working  distance  between 
the  objective  and  the  object  than  can  bo  attained  ■with  a 
dry  or  air  objective  having  the  same  angular  aperture ; 
and  this  increase  affords  not  only  a  greater  freedom  of 
manipulation,  but  also  a  greater  range  of  "  penetration  " 
or  "  focal  dejjth."  Purther,  the  observer  is  rendered  so 
much  less  dependent  upon  the  exactness  of  his  cover- 
correction  that  it  is  found  that  water-immersion  objectives 
of  high  power  and  considerable  angular  aperture,  extremely 
well  adapted  for  the  ordinary  purposes  of  scientific  inves- 
tigation, can -be  constructed  without  it, — a  small  departure 
from  the  standard  thickness  of  covering-glass  to  which  such 
olijectives  are  adjusted  by  the  maker  having  scarcely  any 
effect  u[)on  the  distinctness  of  the  image.  It  is  now  the 
practice  of  several  makers  to  supjily  two  fronts  to  objectives 
of  Yjs  °''  tV  '""^^  focus,  one  of  them  fitting  the  objective  for 
use  "dry"  (that  is,  in  air),  whilst  the  substitution  of  the 
other  converts  it  into  a  water-immersion  objective.  And 
in  the  Objectives  constructed  on  Mr  Wenham's  system  no 
change  in  the  front  glass  is  needed,  all  that  is  necessary  for 
nmking  them  work  a>i  immersion-lenses  being  a  yet  closer 
aijjiroximation  of  th  front  lens  to  the  second  combination, 
which  can  be  made  by  the  screw-collar. 

Within  the  last  few  years,  however,  tne  immersion 
system  has  undergone  a  still  further  and  most  important 
development,  by  the  adoption  of  a  method  originally 
suggested  by  Mr  W^nham  (though  never  carried  out  by 
him),  and  independently  suggested  by  Mr  Stephenson  to 
Professor  Abbe  of  Jena,  under  whose  direction  it  w^as  first 
worked  out  by  Zeiss  (the  very  able  optician  of  Jena),  who 
has  been  followed  by  Powell  and  Lcaland  of  London,  as 
well  as  by  several  other  constructors  of  achromatic  objec- 


MICROSCOPE 


265 


tives  both  in  England  and "  elsewhere,  with  complete 
success.  This  metiod  cousiste  in  the  replacement  of  the 
water  previously  interposed  between  the  covering-glass  and 
the  front  glass  of  the  objective  by  a  liquid  having  the  same 
refractive  and  dispersive  powers  as  crown-glass,  so  that  the 
rays  issuing  at  any  angle  from  the  upper  plane  surface  of 
the  covering-glass  shall  enter  the  plane  front  of  the  objec- 
tive, without  any  deflexion  from  their  straight  course,  and 
without  any  sensible  loss  by  reflexion, — even  the  most 
oblique  rays  that  proceed  from  the  object  keeping  ■  their 
direction  unchanged  until  they  meet  the  back  or  convex 
surface  of  the  front  lens  of  the  objective.  It  is  obvious 
that  all  the  advantages  derivable  from  the  system  of  water- 
imhiersiou  will  be  still  more  thoroughly  attained  by  this 
system  of  "  homogeneous  "  immersion,  provided  that  a  fluid 
can  be  obtained  which  meets  its  requirements.  After  a 
long  course  of  experiments.  Professor  Abbe  found  that  oil 
of  cedar  wood  so  nearly  corresponds  with  cro\vn-glass,  alike 
in  refractive  and  in  dispersive  power,  as  to  serve  the 
Itarixjse  extremely  well,  except  when  it  is  desired  to  take 
si>ecial  advantage  of  the  most  divergent  or  marginal  rays, 
oil  of  fennel  being  then  preferable.  There  are,  however, 
strong  objections  to  the  use  of  these  essential  oils  in  the 
ordinary  work  of  research ;  and  it  seems  not  unlikely  that 
a  solution  of  some  one  or  more  saline  substances  will  be 
found  more  suitable.  -■  In  addition  to  the  benefit  conferred 
by  the  water-immersion  system,  '  and  more  completely 
attained  with  the  homogeneous,  it  may  be  specially  pointed 
out  that,  as  no  correction  for  the  thickness  of  the  covering- 
glass  is  here  required,  the  microsoopist  can  feel  assured 
that  he  has  such  a  view  of  his  object  as  only  the  most  per- 
fect correction  of  an  air-objective  can  afford.  This  is  a 
matter  of  no  small  importance,  for  while,  in  looking  at  a 
known  object,  the  practised  microscopist  can  so  adjust  his 
air-objective  to  the  thickness  "o/  .its  covering-glass  as  to 
bring  out  its  best  performance,  he  cannot  be  sure,  iu  regard 
to  an  unknown  object,  what  appearances  it  ought  to  pre- 
sent, and  may  be  led  by  imperfect  cover-correction  to  au 
erroueous  conception  of  its  structure. 

It  has  been  recently  argiieJ  that,  as  tlio  slightest  variation  in  the 
rcfi-activc  inJex  of  either  the  immersion  fluid  or  tlie  covering-glass, 
a  change  of  eye-i>icces,  or  the  least  alteration  in  tlie  length  of  the 
hoily — in  a  woi-.l,  any  circumstances  ditrciing  in  the  slightest  degiee 
ftom  tliosc  under  whicli  tiie  objective  was  corrected — must  atiect 
the  [wrformanL-e  of  Itoniogencous-immcrsion  objectives  of  the  highest 
class,  Oioy  sl-.ould  still  Lc  made  adjustable.  The  truth  of  this 
contention  can,  no  doubt,  be  proved,  not  only  theoretically,  but 
liractically, — the  introduction  of  the  adjustment  enabling  an  experi- 
enced manipulator  to  attain  the  highest  degree  of  perfection  in  the 
exhibition  of  many  mounted  objects,  which  cannot  be  so  well  sliown 
with  objectives  in  fixed  settings.  But  it  may  well  be  questioned 
.whether  it  is  likely  to  do  the  same  service  in  the  hands  of  an  ordi- 
nary working  liistologist,  and  whether  the  scientific  investigator  will 
not  linil  it  preferable,  w-hcn  using  these  objectives,  to  acceptwhat  their 
maker  lias  li.xcd  as  their  ]ioint  of  best  pciformancc.  The  princijial 
source  of  error  in  his  employment  of  them  lies  in  the  thickness  of  tlio 
optical  section  of  the  object;  for  the  rays  proceeding  fron»  its  deeper 
plane,  having  to  pass  through  a<  ineiliuni  intervening  between  that 
I'lane  and  the  cover-glass,  whoso  refinctive  and  dis]><;i-sivc  indices 
dillVr  from  those  of  the  glass  and  inimcniion -fluid,  cannot  be 
bi-ought  to  so  aecumte  a  focus  as  tliosc  proceeding  from  the  plane 
inmiediatcly  beneath  the  cover-glass.  The  remedy  for  this,  how- 
ever, seems  to  lie  rather  in  making  tlic  preparation  as  tliin  as 
possible  than  in  the  introduction  of  what  is  likely,  in  any  but  the 
most  skilful  and  e.xiierienoed  Iian.Is,  to  prove  a  new  source  of  error. 
Every  one  who  has  examined  muscular  fibre,  for  example,  under  a 
dry  obji'ctivc  of  very  high  power  ajul  largo  aperture,  well  knows 
that  so  gri-atan  alteration  i«]>roduced  in  its  aspect  by  the sliglitest 
changf  in  either  the  focal  adjustment  or  tlie  cover-conection 
that  it  is  im|iossibIc  to  say  witli  certainty  what  arc  the  apjiear- 
Mices  whii  h  give  the  most  correct  optical  expression  of  its  structure. 
I'hU  being  a  matter  of  judgment  on  the  part  of  each  observ.r,  it 
M#lns  obvious  that  the  nearest  approach  to  a  correct  view  will  be 
pi^lnbly  given  by  the  focal  adjiutment  of  the  best  homogeneous 
iinnicrsion-objectivcs,  in  fixed  settings,  to  tlic  plane  of  the  prepara-' 
lion  immediately  beneath  tho  cover-glass  (see  Jour.  Koy.  Micros. 
Pot  ,.1882,  pp.  407,  854,  SC) 


In  every  particular  in  which  the  ■water-immersion 
system  is  superior  to  the  dry,  •  it  is  itself  surpassed  by 
the  oil  or  other  homogeneous  system,  the  anticipa- 
tions of  those  by  whom  it  was  suggested  being  thus  fully 
realized.  -But  the  advantages  already  spoken  of  as  deriv- 
able from  the  use  of  the  "  immersion  system  "  are  altogether 
surpassed  by  that  which  the  theoretical  studies  of  Professor 
Abbe  have  led  him  to  assign  to  it,  and  of  which  he  has 
practically  demonstrated  its  possession.  For  he  has  shown 
(as  will  be  explained  below)  that  the  interposition  of  either 
water  or  oil  so  greatly  increases  the  real  "  aperture "  of 
the  objective  that  immersion-objectives  may  be  constructed 
having  a  far  greater  virtual  aperture  than  even  the  theo- 
retical maximum  (180°)  of  the  angulai  aperture  of  an 
air-objective. 

The  same  eminent  physicist,  working  on  the  basis 
supplied  by  the  mathematical  investigations  of  Professor 
Helmholtz  and  himself  on  the  undulatory  theory  of  light,' 
has  further  established  an  entirely  new  doctrine  in  regard 
to  the  production  of  highly  magnified  representations  of 
closely  approximated  markings.  -All  that  has  hitherto 
been  said  of  the  formation  of  images  by  the  compound 
microscope  relates  to  such  as  are  produced,  in  accordance 
with  the  laws  of  refraction,  by  the  alteration  in  direction 
which  the  light-rays  undergo  in.  their  passage  through  the 
lenses  interposed  between  the  object  and  the  eye.  These 
dioptric  images,  when  formed  by  lenses  free  from  spherical 
and  chromatic  aberration,.are  geometrically  correct  pictures,' 
truly  representing  the  appearances  which  the  objects  them- 
selves would  present  were  they  enlarged  to  the  same  scale 
and  viewed  under  similar  illumination.-  And  we  seein 
justified,  therefore,  in  drawing  from  such  microscopic 
images  the  same  conclusions  in  regard  to  the  objects  they 
picture  as  we  should  draw  from  the  direct  vision  of  acfcual 
objects  having  the  same  dimensions.  The  principal  source  of 
error  in  such  interpretations  arises  out  of  the  "interference  " 
to  which  the  rays  of  light  are  subjected  along  the  edges  of 
the  minute  objects  through  which  they  pass,  or  along  any 
such  lines  or  margins  in  their  inner  part  as  are  sufficiently 
opaque  to  throw  a  definite  shadow.  For  every  such 
shadow  must  be  bordered,  more  or  less  obviously,  by  inter- 
ference- or  diffraction-spectra;  and  thus  the  images  of 
strongly-lined  objects  with  very  transparent  intermediate 
spaces  may  be  so  troubled  or  confused  by  these  "  diffraction- 
spectra  "  as  to  Vender  it  very  doubtful  what  interpretatitn 
is  to  be  put  upon  their  appearances. 

A  good  example  of  this  kind  is  aflbrdcd  by  tho  scaie3''of  the 
gnat  or  mosquito,  which  are  composed  of  a  vei-y  delicate  double 
membrane,  strengthened  by  longitudinal  ribs  on  both  sides,  those 
of  tho  opposite  sides  uniting  at  tlie  broad  end  of  the  scale,  wlijre 
they  generally  terminate  as  bustle-shaped  appendages  beyond  the 
intermediate  membrane.  These  are  crossed  by  fine  markings,  which 
are  probably  ridge-like  cornigations  of  the  membrane,  common  to 
both  sides  of  the  scale.  Between  each  pair  of  longitudinal  ridges 
there  niay  be  seen,  under  certain  adjustments  of  focus  and  illumi- 
nation, three  unifoi-nv  pai-allel  rows  of  beads,  whidt  have  been 
supi'oscd  to  represent  a  true  structure  iu  the  membrane.  By  Dr, 
AVoodward  (colonel  in  the  United  States  aimy),  however,  it  has  been' 
sliown  tliat  this  beaded  appearance  is  merely  the  i-esult  of  the  "inter- 
ferences "  produced  by  the  longitudinal  and  trai»vcrse  lines  of  the 
scale.  For  the  longitmlinal  dilfractionlines  are  clearly  seen,  alike 
in  the  mioroscoiiic  image  and  in  photographs  (fig.  13),  to  extend  into 
emi>ty  space  l>eyond  the  contour  of  the  scales,  almost  as  far  as, the 
ends  of  the  biistles  iu  whidi  the  parallel  ribs  terminate;-. and 
tliey  vary  in  number  with  tho  varying  obliquity  of  illumination,  so 
that  in  tlie  same  stale  two,  three,  four,  or  even  five  rows  of  beads 
can  be  seen,  and  iihotographcdiSt  pleasura.  infvtry  intercostal 
si>acc.  * 

Every  microscopist  jwho' Has. worKed  mucn  witli' high 
Ijowcrs  is  Well  aware  of  the  difficulty  of  distingufshirig 
between  real  and  spectral  markings, — a  difficulty  which  can 
only  be  overcome  by  training  and  exjierience.  *,  It  seems. 


>  Mo.dMj  ilii 


(1876),  p.  263 
XVI.  —  -u 


260 


MICROSCOPE 


however,  to  have  been  now  fully  ascertained  by  Pro- 
fessor Abbe  that  it  is  only  through  such  diffraction-spectra 
that  the  microscope  can  make  us  acquainted  with  the 
minutest  structural  features  of  objects,  since,  according 
to  the  calculations  of  Professor  Helmholtz  and  himself 
(based  on  the  constants  of  the  undulatory  theory),  no 
amount  of  magnifying  power  can  separate  dioptrically  two 
lines,  apertures,  or  markings  of  any  kind,  not  more  than 
:;  s'o  0  "'  ^°  i"ch  apart.  The  visual  differentiation  or 
"  resolutipn  "  of  lines  or  other  markings  whose  distance  lies 


their  dillraction-spectra,'  and  that  the  confidence  to  b« 
placed  in  the  latter  class  of  representations  will  be  greatei 
in  proportion  to  the  completeness  of  the  recombination  of 
the  separated  interference-spectra,  which,  again,  will  be 
proportional  (accurate  correction  of  the  aberrations  being 
assumed)  to  the  aperture  of  the  objectivc.- 

The    combined    advance    of    scientific    theory    and    of 
practical  skill  in  the  application  of  it  have  now  brought 
up  the  compound  achromatic  microscoiie  to  an  oi>tical  per- 
fection that  renders  it  capable  of  actually  doing  almost 
everything  of  which,   in  the  present  state  of  optical 
theory,  it  can  be  regarded  as  capable.     The  resolution 
of   Nobert's  nineteenth   band,    having   112,595   lines 
to  an  inch,  which  was  long  regarded  as  the  crux  of 
microscopists,  is  now  found  so  ea.sy  as  to  leave  little 
room  for  doubt  that,  if  a  new,  test  were  obtainable 
having  the  minimum  vlsihile.  of   118,000  lines  to  the 
inch,   an   oil-immersion  objective  would  be  found  to 
resolve   it.      But  the  experience  of  the  past  makes  it 
evident  that,  as  no  limit  can  be  set  to  the  advance 
of  optical  theory,  results  yet  more  remarkable  may  be 
still  exi)ected  to  arise,  every  such  advance  beiiig  turned 
Ehowing  Beailcd  Markings  rroduced  by  Diffraot:on;    to  account  by  the  practical  skill  which  exjierience  has 
7. -J      J  ^^^  enabled  the  best  constructors  of  achromatic  ob- 


FlO.  13.— Scale  ( 

Irom  a  rhotograjjh  by  Colonel  Dr"Woodward. 
within  that  limit  is  entirely  the  result  of  "  interference," — 
the  objective  receiving  and  transmitting,  not  only  dioptric 
rays,  but  the  inflected  rays  whose  course  has  been  altered 
in  their  passage  through  the  object  by  the  peculiar  disposi- 
tion of  its  particles,  and  combining  these  rays  into  a  series 
of  diffraction-spectra,  the  number  and  relative  position  of 
which  bear  a  relation  to  the  structural  arrangement  on 
which  their  production  depends.  If  the  objective  be  per- 
fectly corrected,  and  all  the  diffraction-spectra  lie  within 
its  field,  these  will  be  recombined  by  the  eye-piece  so  as  to 
form  a  secondary  or  "  diffraction  "  image,  lying  in  the  same 
plane  with  the  dioptric  image,  and  coinciding  with  it,  while 
filling  up  its  outlines  by  supplying  intermediate  details. 
But  where  the  markings  (of  whatever  nature)  are  so  closely 
approximated  as  to  produce  a  wide  dispersion  of  the  inter- 
ference-spectra, only  a  part  of  them  may  fall  within  the 
range  of  the  objective ;  and  the  recombination  of  these  by 
the  eye-piece  may  produce  a  diffraction-image  differing 
more  or  less  completely  (perhaps  e\en  totally)  from  the 
real  structure;  while,  if  they  should  lie  entirely  outside 
the  field  of  the  objective,  no  secondary  or  diffraction  image 
will  be  produced.  And  thus,  while  the  general  form  of 
such  an  object  as  a  diatom-valve  may  be  correctly  given  in 
a  dioptric  image,  its  surface  may  ajipear  quite  unmarked 
under  an  objective  of  small  aperture,  however  great  its 
magnifying  power,  though  covered  with  regulaily  disposed 
markings  when  seen  through  an  objective  of  wider  aperture  i  ''■*'  nearly  all  er 
with  perhaps  only  half  the  magnifying  power.  "'""■  *"  "'"'  *''"  '''"" 

It  is  obvious,  however,  that,  while  the  dioptric  image 
represents  the  actual  object,  the  diffraction-image  thus 
formed  by  the  reunion  of  a  portion  of  the  interference 
pencils  is  only  an  optical  expression  of  the  result  of  thair 
partial  recombination,  which  may  represent  something 
«nurely  different  from  the  real  structure.  For  it  has  been 
proved  experimentally,  by  placing  finely-ruled  gratings  in 
the  position  of  object-s,  and  by  limiting  the  apertures  of 
objectives  by  diaphragms  with  variously  disposed  perfora- 
tions, that  the  same  arrangement  of  lines  shall  bti  presented 
to  the  eye  by  differently  lined  surfaces,  and  different 
arrangements  by  similarly  lined  surfarc.-i,  according  to  the 
numbers  and  relative  positions  of  the  reunited  spectra. 
Hence  it  is  clear  that  there  must  bo  an  essential  difference 
in  character  and  trustworthiness  between  the  images 
dioptrically  formed  of  the  general  outlines  and  larger 
iletails  of  inicroscoijic  objects  and  those  representations,  of 
their  finer  details  which  are  given  by  the  recombination  of 


jectives  to  attain.  ^ 

Tlie  progressive  iinprovemeaits  thus  effcotoJ  in  the  construction 
of  uiicrosropic  objectives  have  bccu  accompanied  by  other  iuiprovo- 
ments,  alike  in  tlio  optical  and  in  tlio  mechanical  anangements  by 
which  tlie  best  peifoiuiance  of  these  objectives  can  bo  secured;  and 
it  will  be  desiiable  now  to  describe  in  succesbion  tlio  most  apjiroved 
forms  of  the  eyo-picco,  tlio  objective,  and  tlie  illuminating  apparatus 
respectively,  and  then  those  of  the  iiistiument  as  a  whole,  point- 
ing out  tlio  special  adaptiveiioss  of  each  to  the  requiremciits  of 
ditli^eut  classes  of  scientiiic  investigators. 

Ete-Pieces. 
It  very  early  became  obvious  to  thosw  who  were  engaged  ia 
tli«  achromatization  of  microscopic  objectives  that  their  best 
porfoi-manco  was  obt.aincd  wlien  the  image  given  by  them  was 
further  enlarged  by  the  eye-piece  known  as  tlio  Huygcnian,  as 
having  been  devised  by  Huygens  for  his  telescopes.  It  cojiaists 
of  hvo  planoconvex  lenses  (EE  and  FF,  fig.  4),  with  tlieir  plane 
sides  towards  the  eye  ;  these  are  placed  at  a  distance  c/jual  to  hall 
the  sum  of  dieir  local  lengths,  — or,  to  speak  with  more  jireoision, 
at  half  the  sum  of  the  focal  length  of  the  eye-glass,  and  of  tho  dis 
tinco  from  tho  field-glass  at  which  an  imago  of  the  object-glass 
would  be  formed  by  it  A  "stoii"  or  di.iphi-agm  CB  must  Im 
placed  between  tlio  two  lenses,  is  the  visual  focus  of  tlio  eye-glass, 
which  is,  of  course,  the  position  wherein  tlic  image  of  tho  object 
M'ill  bo  formed  by  tlie  rays  brought  into  convergence  by  their 
[.assago  through  the  field-glass.  Huygens  devised  this  airaiig*- 
ment  meicly  to  diminish  the  s|dicncal  aberration  ;  but  it  was  subse- 
quently shown  by  Uoscovieh  tliat  tho  chromatic  dispeisioit  was  al.^o 
ingieat  part  collected  by  it.  Since  tlio  iiitroductiou  of  achromatic 
object-glasses  for  coni[iound  microsco)»es,  it  has  been  further  ftliovvii 
be  avoided  by  a  slight  over-con-cction  o( 
id  red  rays  may  be  daused  to  ciitcj-  the 
eyo  in  a  paiallel  diiecliou  (though  not  actually  coincident),  and 
thus  to  proiluco  a  colourless  imnge.  Tlaislct  N,  !M.  N  (fig.  14)  i-cpro- 
sent  tlio  two  extremo  ravs  of  threo  j»encils,  which  without  tho 
field-glass  would  form  a  blue  image  com'cx  to  the  eve-glass  at  Cl>, 
and  a  red  one  at  RR  ;  then,  by  the  iiitervelitioM  of  'ihc  field-glass, 
a  bltru  imago  concavo  to  the  eye-glass  is  formed  at  B'C,  and  a  led 


*  Thus  it  is  dtill  a  moot  point  whether  tho  niicro5Coi»ic  appear- 
ances seen  in  tho  siliceous  valves  of  diatoms  (tigs.  8-11)  are  th< 
optical  repre-senlalioiis  of  elevations,  depressions,  or  perforations,  or 
of  internal  nielecular  arraugeuieuts  not  iuvoh  ing  any  iucquaJity  oi 
surface. 

*  This  doctrine  was  fii-st  fully  develo]l«ll  by  Professor  Abbo  in  the 
Archil'  fir  Murosi.  .ImilcMie,  vol.  ix.  (1874),  nnd  is  nioro  lully  »i- 
poundetl  in  his  ^ub^elplent  contributiolis  to  Jour.  Roij.  Micros.  &>fc' 
^ee  also  tho  papeii  of  Mr  Slepheiisou  and  Mr  Crisp  iu  tlmt  journal,! 
ami  In  tho  preccling  Muuthhj  Mii-i'r.scnj'iciil  Joiiniat. 

*  Any  good  worknmn  can  now  make  by  tho  dozen  such  snioll-Qiigled 
J  inch  objectives  as  Jlr  A.  Uo.«  prodiicoil  with  inucU  poins  and  luUonr 
lifty  ycain  ago.  it  was  not  until  184  4  tlmt,  wiih  tho  honomabU 
eniulutiou  of  Burp.nssing  what  Piofesior  Aniici  b.id  then  accon>pUili«d^ 
lit  produceil  a  .,V,  inch  of  133°,  which,  by  taking  ailvantnga  of  fptyl 
voiy  heavy  fliiit*gla^  ko  bad,  he  afterwards  increased  to  170*-' 


MICROSCOPE 


2G7 


one  at  ETI'.^'As  the  foctu  of  the  eye-gUss  U  shorter  for  blue  laya 
th»n  for  red  rays  by  just  the  difference  ia  the  pUce  of  these  im&^, 
their  rays,  after  refraction  by  it,  enter  the  eye  in  a  parallel  direction, 
«nd  produce  a  picture  free  from^  £al3e_  colour.  j«If  the  object-glasa 
had  been  Tendered  perfectly  '  ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ 
achromatic,  the  blue  rays, 
after  passing  through  the 
field-glass,  would  have  been 
brought  to  a  focus  at  b,  and 
the  red  at  r  ;  so  that  an  error 
Ktmld  be  produced,  which 
Tfonld  hare  been  increased  in- 
stead of  being  corrected  by  the 
eye-glass.  Another  advantage 
of  a  weU-constmcted  Huy- 
ffunian  eye-piece  is  that  the 
unage  produced  by  the  meet- 
iqg  of  the  rays  after  passing 
through  the  field-glass  Is  by  it 
rendered  concave  towards  the 
■eye-glass  instead  of  couvc-a, 
JO  that  every  part  of  it  may 
.be  in  focus  at  the  same  cime, 
«nd  the  field  of  view  thereby 
Tendered  flat' 
^  TwoormoreHuvgenianeye--      ,,     „    ..        ,  ti  t, 

xng  powers,  known  as  A  B,  C       jjicriscopic  Objectives. 
«c.,  are  usually  supplied  with  "^ 

a  compound  microscope.  The  utility  of  the  higher  powers  will 
mainly  depend  upon  the  excellence  of  the  objectives  ;  for,  when  an 
achromatic  combination  of  small  aperture  which  is  sufficientlv  well 
corrected  to  perform  verj*  tolerably  with  a  *'low"  or  "shallow" 
eye-piece  is  u*ed  with  an  eye-piece  of  higher  ma|^if)-ing  power  (com- 
monly spoken  of  as  a  *'  deeper  "  one',  the  image  may  lose  more  in 
Inightness  and  in  definition  tnan  is  gained  by  its  amplification,  while 
"tile  image  given  by  an  objective  of  large  angular  ai>erture  and  very 

f  effect  correction  shall  sustain  so  little  loss  of  light  or  of  definition 
y  "deep  eye-piecing  "  that  the  increase  of  magnifying  power  shall 
he  almost  clear  gain.  Hence  the  modes  iu  wliich  different  objectives 
of  the  same  power,  whose  performance  with  shallow  eye-pieces  is 
nearly  the  same,  are  respectively  affected  by  deep  eye-pieces  afford 
a  good  test  of  their  respective  merits,  since  any  defect  in  the  correc- 
tions is  sure  to  be  brought  out  by  the  higher  amplification  of  the 
image,  while  a  deficiency  of  aperture  is  manifested  by  the  want  of 
light.  The  workin"  microscopist  will  generally  fin'l  the  A  eye- 
piece most  suitable,  D  being  occasionally  employeil  when  a  greater 
power  is  required  to  separate  details,  whilst  C  anil  others  still  deeper 
are  useful  for  the  purpose  of  tasting  the  goodness  of  objectives,  or 
for  special  investigations  renuiring  the  highest  amplification  with 
objectives  of  the  finest  quality.  But  he  can  commit  no  greater 
■error  than  habitually  to  use  deep  eye-pieces  for  the  purposes  of 
scientific  research,  especially  when  (as  in  the  study  of  living 
objects)  long-continued  and  unintemiitted  ohsen-ation  is  necessarj-. 
For  the  visual  strain  thus  occasioned  is  exactly  like  that  resulting 
from  the  habitual  use  of  magnifying  spectacles  in  reading,  requir- 
ing the  book  to  be  held  within  2  or  3  inches  of  the  eye.  And 
«ll  experience  shows  tliat  this  feeling  of  strain  cannot  be  dis- 
TC^rded,  without  the  most  injurious  consequences  to  ^nsion. 
♦  Tor  viewing  large  flat  objects,  such  as  transverse  sections  of  wood 
■or  of  ^cAi'nru  spines,  under  low  niagnifpng  powers,  the  eye-piece 
'known  as  Kelliicr's  mav  be  employed  with  advantage.  In  this 
construction   the   field-g^ass,   which   is  a   double-convex   lens,    is 

5 laced  in  the  focus  of  the  eye-glass,  without  the  interposition  of  a 
iaphragm  ;  and  the  eye-glass  is  an  achromatic  combination  of  a 
plano-concave  of  flint  with  a  double-convex  of  crown,  which  is 
•lightly  under-corrected,  so  as  to  neutralize  the  over-correction 
given  to  the  objectives  for  use  with  Huygenian  eye-pieces.  A 
flit  well-illuraiuited  .field  of  as  much  as  14  inches  in  diameter 
may  thus  be  obtaincd''with  .very  little  loss  of  light ;  but,  on  the 
other  hand,  there  is  a  certain  imi>airmeiit  of  defining  power,  which 
renders  the  Kelliier 'eye-piece  unsuitable  for  objects  presenting 
minute  structural  details  ;  and  it  is  an  adJitional  objection  that 
tlie  smallest  speck  or  amear  uiwn  the  surface  of  the  field-glass  is 
made  so  unpleasantly  obvious  that  the  most  careful  cleansing  of 
that  surface  is  reljiiired  every  time  that  tliis  eye-jilece  is  used. 
Hence  it  is  better  fitted  for  the  occasional  display  of  objects  of  the 
character  already  specified  than  for  the  ordinary  wants  of  the 
.Trtrking  microscopist. 

6olid  eve-pieces,  consisting  of  cylinders  of  glass  with  convex  ends, 
*r»  sometimes  used  in  place  of  the  Huygenian,  when  high  magni- 
ftTnjrpowcr  is  i-equircd  for  testing  the  i»erformance  of  objectives. 
■Theiowcr  surface,  which   has  the   lessor  convctitv,  serves  as  a 


I'Tlic  renter  m\y  be  referred  to  Mr  Vtrley's  inrcati^tioa  of  the  properties  of 
<lw  HujrfWiiUn  cyc-piecc  la  tlic  flfty-Rnt  volotrc  of  the  TrafiiaclioMM  of  tht 
■Sottttg  •/  Artt\  Bad  to  the  ■rticle  •' Microscope."  bv  >lr  Unas,  In  the  A«J»J' 
4)itltfKii^  ttpriue<l,  irUh  ailOitiuiu.  In  the  iTaiVu*  Citlap*/'' 


field-glassL  while  the  image  formed  by  this  is  magnified  by  the 
highly  convex  upper  snrface  to  whicn  the  eye  is  applied, — the 
advantage  derivable  from  this  constmction  lying  in  the  abolition  of 
the  plane  surfaces  of  the  two  lenses  cf  the  ordinarv  eye-piece.'  v 

A  "  positive  "  or  Bamsden's  eye-piece — in  which  the  field-glass, 
whose  convex  side  is  turned  npwarus,  b  placed  so  much  nearer  the 
eye-glass  that  the  image  formed  by  the  objective  lies  below  instead 
of  above  it — was  formerly  used  for  the  purpose  of  micrometry, — a 
divided  glass  being  fitted  in  the  exact  plane  occupied  by  the  image, 
so  that  Its  scale  and  that  image  are  both  magnified  together  by  uie 
lenses  interposed  between  them  and  the  eye.  The  same  end,  how- 
ever, may  be  so  readily  attained  with  the  Huy^nian  eye-piec« 
that  no  essential  advantage  is  gained  by  the  use  of  uat  of  Bamsden. 
the  field  of  which  is  distinct  only  in  its  centre. 

Objectites. 

It  has  been  seen  that  one  of  the  principal  points  in  the  con- 
struction of  microscopic  objectives  to  which  the  attention  of  their 
makers  has  been  constantly  directed  has  been  the  enlargement 
of  their  "  aperture," — this  term  being  understood  to  mean,  not 
their  absolute  opening  as  expressed  by  linear  measure,  but  their 
caj«city  for  receiving  and  bringing  to  a  remote  conjugate  focus  the 
raj's  diverging  from  the  several  points  of  a  near  object.  The  aper- 
tnJe  of  au  o^'ective  has  been  usually  estimated  by  its  "angle  of 
aperture, " — that  is,  by  the  dcOTee  of  divergence  of  the  most  extreme 
rays  proceeding  from  the  axial  point  of  the  object  to  the  margin  of 
the  objective  (fig.  15)  which  take  part  in  the  formation  of  the 
image.  It  is  pointed  out,  however, 
by  Professor  Abbe  that,  in  the  case 
of  single  lenses  used  as  objectives, 
their  apertures  are  really  propor- 
tional, not  to'  their  respective  angles 
of  aperture,  but  to  the  ratio  between 
the  actual  diameter  or  clear  opening 
of  each  to  its  focal  distance,  a  ratio 
which  is  simply  expressed  by  the 
sine  of  its  semiangle.  And  in  the 
case  of  combinations  of  lenses  it  can 
be  demonstrated  mathematically  that 
their  respective  apertures  are  de- 
terminable— other  conditions  being 
the  same — by  the  ratio  of  tlie  dia- 
meters of  their  back  lenses,  so  far  as  Fic.  15. — Section  of  Achromatic' 
these  are  really  utilized,  to  their  Object-Glass,  composed  of 
respective  focal  lengths,— this  ratio  thiee  pairs  of  (nint  and 
being  expressed,  as  before,  by  the  sine  "O'™)  lenses,  oic  is  its  angle 
of  the  semiangle  of  aperture  (sin  u).  of  aperture. 
The  difference  between  these  two  modes  of  comparison  can  be 
readily  made  obvious  by  reference  to  the  theoretical  maximum  of 
180°,  which  is  attained  by  opening  out  the  boundaries  of  the  angle 
abc  (fig.  15)  until  they  come  into  uie  same  straight  line,  the  sine  cf 
the  semiangle  (»0°)  then  becoming  unity.  For,  while  an  objective 
having  an  angle  of  60°  would  count  by  comparison  of  angles  sa 
having  only  one-third  of  the  theoretical  maximum,  its  real  aperture 
would  be  naif  that  maximum  since  the  sine  of  its  semiangle 
(30°)  =  i.  And,  as  the  sines  of  angles  beyond  60°  increase  very 
slowly,  an  objective  of  120°  angle  will  have  as  much  as  87  per  cent 
of  the  theoretical  maximum  of  aperture,  although  its  angle  is  only 
two-tliirds,  or  66'6  per  cent,  ol^  180°.  It  hence  becomes  obrious 
that  little  is  really  gained  in  real  aperture  by  the  opening-out  of 
the  angle  of  microscopic  objectives  to  its  greatest  practicable  limit 
(which  may  be  taken  as  170°),  while  such  extension — even  if 
unattended  with  any  loss  either  of  definition  or^of  colour-correction 
— necessarily  involves  a  great  reduction  alike  hi  the  working  dis- 
tance and  in  the  focal  depth  or  penetration  of  the  combination, 
as  will  be  presently  explained. 

Xumerieal  Aperture. — It  hasnowbeen  demonstrated  by  Professor 
Abbe  that,. independently  of  the  advantages  already  specified  as 
derivable  from  the  application  of  the  immersion  sj'stem  to  objectives 
of  short  focus  and  wide  aperture,  the  real  aperture  of  an  immer- 
sion objective  is  considerably  greater  than  that  of  a  dry  or  air 
objective  of  the  same  angle, — the  comparative  apertures  of  objec- 
tives working  through  different  media  being  in  the  compound 
ratio  of  two  factors,  viz.,  the  sines  of  their  respective  seoiiangles 
of  aperture  and  tlie  refractive  imUces  of  the  "immersion"  fluids. 
It  is  the  product  of  these  (jisinii)  that  gives  what  is  termed  by 
Professor  Abbe  the  "numerical  aperture,'  .—which  serves,  therefore, 
as  the  only  true  standard  of  comparison,  not  only  betvveen  dry_  or 
air  and  water  or  oil  immersion  lenses,  but  also  between  immersion 
lenses  adaptetl  to  work  respectively  with  water,  oil,  or  any  other 
interpiKed  fluid.  Tliat  the  angle'  of  aperture  eipre.«ed  by  the 
same  number  of  degrees  must  correspond  with  very  different  work- 
ing apertures  in  dry,  water  immersion,  and  oil  or  homogeneous 
immersion   objectives  becomes   evident  when   we  consider  what 


268 


MICROSCOPE 


happens  when  divergent  pencils  of  rays  pass  from  one  medium 
into  another  of  hi*;hcr  refractive  index.  For  such  diver/^'ent 
pencils,  proceeding  from  air  into  water  or  oil,  will  be  closed 
together  or  compressed  ;  so  that  the  rays  which,  when  an  object 
is  mounted  in  air,  spread  out  over  the  whole  hemisphere  then 
form  comparatively  narrow  pencils,  and  can  thus  be  utilized 
by  an  immersion  objective  of  smaller  aperture  than  is  required  in 
a  dry  objective  to  admit  the  most  diverging  rays  of  air-pencils. 
It  follows,  therefore,  that  a  given  angle  in  a  water  or  oil  immersion 
objective  represents  a  much  larger  aperture  than  docs  tlie  same 
angle  in  an  air-objective  ;  and  tlius  it  comes  to  pass  tha*  by 
openiufT  out  the  angle  of  immersion  objectives  they  may  be  made 
to  receive  and  utilize  rays  of  much  greater  divergence  than  can 
possibly  enter  dry  objectives  of  even  maximum  aperture. 

The  following  table,  abridged  from  that  given  ny  Professor  Abbe 
for  every  0*02  of  numerical  aperture  from  0*50  up  to  the  maximum 
of  l"f2,  brings  this  contrast  into  clear  view  : — 

Niimcrical  Apcrlurc  Table. 


An 

glc  of  Apcit 

rrc  (=:«). 

lUumi- 

Tlteoreliciil 
Resolving 

1 
Penc- 

Numcncfll 

Power,  in 

traliiiB 

Aperture 

Drj 

Watcr- 

HomoRcncous- 

natinfi 
Power 

Lines  to 

Power 

(nsinu=a). 

Objec- 
tives 

Immer^ion 
Objcclives 

Immcisiion 
Objectives 

an  Ineli 
(i=0-62C9^ 

(!) 

("=I). 

(,1=133). 

(n=l-52). 

=line  E). 

1-52 

ISO     0 

2-310 

140.628 

-656 

1-12 

138  12 

2-016 

136,S83 

-704 

1-33 

isb"  0 

122     6 

i-7:o 

128,212 

■762 

1-26 

142  30 

111  69 

1-683 

121,404 

-794 

lis 

125     3 

101  60 

l-3r2 

11:!,7.'.2 

-847 

112 

114  44 

94  66 

1-254 

107.908 

-803 

1-06 

105  42 

68  20 

1124 

102,184 

■943 

1-00 

180"  0 

97  31 

62  17 

1000 

96,400 

1000 

0-94 

HO     6 

89  66 

70  24 

■SS4 

90,010 

1004 

0'S6 

113  38 

80  34 

68  64 

■740 

8',904 

1103 

0-80 

lOG  16 

73  68 

63  31 

•040 

77,120 

1260 

0-7C 

38  SO 

69  42 

60    0 

-573 

73,2'.l 

1-310 

0-70 

88  51 

03  31 

64  6J 

•490 

07,480 

1-429 

0-62 

70  38 

6ii  34 

48     9 

•384 

69,708 

1013 

0-56 

08     6 

40  48 

43  14 

-314 

63,984 

1-7S0 

0-50 

00    0 

44  10 

38  24 

•260 

48,200 

2000 

Thus,  taking  .is  a  standard  of  comparison  a  dry  objective  of 
the  maximum  theoretical  angle  of  180°,  whose  numerical  aper- 
ture i^  the  sine  of  90°,  or  1-00,  we  find  this  standard  equalled 
by  a  water-immersion  objective  whose  angle  of  aperture  is  no  more 
than  97^°,  and  by  an  oil  or  hon  ogoneous  immersion  objective 
of  only  82°, — the  numerical  apertures  of  these,  obtained  by  multi- 
plying the  sines  of  their  respective  semian'gles  by  the  refractive 
index  of  water  or  of  oil,  being  1-00  in  each  case.  Each,  there- 
fore, will  have  as  great  a  power  of  i  jccivin§  and  utilizing  divergent 
rays  as  any  dry  objective  can  even  theoretically  possess. 

But,  as  the  actual  angle  of  either  a  w-ater  or  an  oil  immersion 
objective  can  be  opened  out  to  the  same  extent  as  that  of  an  air  or 
dry  objective,  it  follows  that  the  ajierturc  of  the  former  can  be 
augmented  far  beyond  even  the  thi^oretical  maximum  of  the  latter. 
Thus  the  numerical  aperture  of  a  water-immersion  lens  of  the 
maximum  angle  of  180°  is  1-33,  or  one-third  greater  than  that 
of  an  air-lens  of  the  same  angle ;  and  this  apertiu-e  would  be 
given  by  an  oil-immersion  objective  of  only  122°.  Again,  tho 
numerical  aperture  of  an  oil-immersion  objective  having  the  theo- 
retical maximum  angle  of  180°  would  be  1-52,  or  more  than  one- 
half  greater  than  that  of  an  air-lcus  of  the  same  angle.  And  the 
numerical  apertures  corresponding  to  angles  of  170,  which  have 
been  actually  attained  in  both  cases,  fall  very  little  short  of  the 
proportions  just  given. 

So,  again,  an  oil-immersion  objective  whose  angle  of  aperture  is 
only  60°  has  as  high  a  numerical  aperture  (0'76)  as  a  water- 
immersion  objective  of  69i°,  or  as  a  dry  objective  of  99°;  and  a  dry 
objective  of  140°  has  no  greater  a  numerical  aperture  (0'94)  than 
a  water-immersion  of  90°  or  an  oil-ii.imersion  of  76  J°. 

This  important  doctrine  may  be  best  made  practically  intelligible 
by  a  comparison  of  the  relative  di.-.metcrs  of  tho  back  lenses  of 
dry  with  those  of  water  and  oil  immersion  objectives  of  the 
same  power,  from  an  "air-angle"  of  60°  to  an  "oil-angle"  of 
180°, — these  diameters  expressing,  in  oach  case,  the  opening  between 
the  extreme  pencil^forming  rays  at  their  issue  from  the  posterior 
surface  of  the  combination,  to  meet  in  its  conjugate  focus  for  tho 
formation  of  the  imajo,  tlie  relation  of  which  opening  in  each  case 
to  the  focal  length  of  the  combination  is  the  real  measure  of  its 
aperture  (fig.  16).  Thus  the  dry  objective  of  60°  angle  (5  in  fig.  16) 
has  its  air-angle  represented  by  sin  ti  — J -0-50  numerical  aperture. 
The  dry  objective  of  97°  (4)  has  its  air-anglo  renrcsenttd  by  sinu- 
3 -=0-75  numerical  aperture.  And  the  dry  objective  having  the 
(theoretical)  angle  of  180°  (3)  has  its  air-angle  represented  bysinii 
—  I'OO  numerical  aperture,— this  corresponding  to  96°  water- 
angle  and  82°  oil-angle.  But  tho  water-immersion  lens  having 
the  (theoretical)  angle  of  180°  (2)  haa  its  watcr-aiiglo  represented 
b;  nsinu  — 1'33  Jiumerical   aperture.      And    the    oil-inunersion 


lens  bavin"  tho  (theoretical)  angle  of  160°^(I)  has  its  oil-anglo 
rcprosentciT  by  nsinit  — 1'52  "numerical  aperture."'  Theso 
theoretical  apertures  for  water  and  oil  immersion  lenses  having  been 
found  as  nearly  attainable  in  practice  as  the  theoretical  maximum 
for  dry  objectives,  such  lenses  can  utilize  rays  from  objects 
mounted  in  balsam  or  other  dense  media, 
which  arc  entirely  lost  for  the  image  (sinci- 
they  do  not  exist  physically)  when  the  sam<- 
object  is  in  air  or  is  observed  through  a  filni 
of  air.  And  this  loss  caimot  be  compcnsatcil 
by  an  increase  of  illumination  ;  because  thi- 
rays  which  are  lost  are  different  rays  physi- 
cally from  those  obtained  by  any  illumi- 
nation, ho)vover  intense,  through  an  aeriform 
medium. 

It  is  by  increasing  the  number  of  diffrac 
tion-spectra  that  the  additional  rays  thuv 
received  by  objectives  of  great  numerical 
aperture  impart  to  them  an  increased  resolv- 
ing power  for  lined  and  dotted  objects,— 
the  truth  of  the  image  formed  by  the  recom- 
bination of  these  spectra  being  (as  alread\ 
shown)  essentially  dependent  on  tlic  minibci 
of  thein  that  the  objective  may  be  capable 
of  receiving. 

But  whilst  the  resolving  power  of  micro 
scopic  objectives  increases  in  the  ratio  ol 
their  respective  numerical  apertures,  and 
whilst  their  illuminating  power  (dependent 
upon  the  quantity  of  light  that  passes 
through  them)  increases  w-ith  tlie  square  of 
the  numerical  aperture,  ihe  case  is  reversed 
with  another  most  important  quality, — that 
of  penetration  or  focal  depth ;  "for  this 
diminishes  as  the  numerical  aperture  in- 
creases, until  notliing  but  what  is  precisely 
in  the  focal  plane  can  be  even  discerned  with 
objectives  possessed  of  the  highest  resolving 

power.  Thus,  tho  pchctrating  power  of  an  Fig.  10.— Uilative  Di.i- 
objective  of  60°  air-angle  being  expressed  meters  of  Back  Lenses 
as  2  000,  an  extension  of  that  angle  to  76i°  of  Air,  Water,  and 
reduces  it  to  1-613,  an  extension  to  89°  9"  Immersion  Objec- , 
reduces  it  to  r429,  and  an  extension  to  99°  *'"^'' 
reduces  it  to  1-316;  further  extension  to  118J°  reduces  it  to  1-163, 
w-hile  an  objective  whose  air-angle  is  140°  has  a  penetrating  power 
of  only  1  064.  So,  again,  the  oil-immersion  objective  wliich  h.as  the 
numerical  aperture  of  1-00  corresponding  to  the  theoretical  air- 
angle  of  180°  has  a  penetrating  power  of  I'OOO;  this  is  brought 
down  to  '752  when  its  angle  is  so  increased  as  to  make  its  numerical 
aperture  133,  equalling  the  theoretical  maximum  of  a  water- 
immersion  objective,  and  is  '658  at  the  theoretical  maximum  (1  ■52> 
of  an  oil-objective. 

Hence  it  is  clear  that,  as  some  of  the  qualities  to  be  sought  ii: 
microscopic  objectives  are  absolutely  incompatible,  a  preference  is 
to  be  accorded  to  objectives  of  greatest  resolving  power  but  very 
little  penetration,  or  to  those  of  moderate  resolving  power  and 
great  penetration,  according  to  the  uses  to  which  they  are  to  be 
applied;  and  some  general  principles  will  now  be  laid  down  in 
regard  to  this  matter,  based  alike  on  science  and  experience. 

In  the  first  place,  a  marked  distinction  is  to  be  drawn  between 
those  objectives  of  low  or  moderate  power  which  arc  tp  be  worked 
dioptrically  and  those  of  high  power  which  are  to  be  worked  dif- 
fractivcly.  The  objects  on  which  the  former  arc  to  be  for  the  most 
part  used  are  either  minute  transparent  bodies  having  .solid  forma 
which  the  observer  should  bo  able  to  take  in  as  wholes  (as  in  the 
case  of  Pohjcysiina,  the  larger  diatoms,  /ii/usoria,  kc);  or  trans- 
parent sections,  dissections,  or  injections,  whose  parta  lit!  in 
different  planes,  the  general  relations  of  which  he  ilesii-es  to  study, 
while  reserving  their  details  for  more  special  scrutiny  ;  or  opaque 
objects,  whoso  structure  can  only  be  apprehended  from  the 
examination  of  their  surfaces,  wiien  the  inetjualities  of  those  sur- 
faces arc  seen  in  their  relations  to  each  other.  In  all  these  cases 
it  is  desirable  that  microscopic  vision  should  resemble  ordinary 
vision  as  much  as  possible.  If  the  eye  were  so  constructed  as  to 
enable  us  to  discern  only  those  parts  of  an  object  that  lie  pre- 
cisely in  the  plane  to  w-hich  wo  focus  it,  our  visual  conceptions  of 
the  forms  and  relations  of  these  parts,  and  consequently  of  tho 
object  as  a  whole,  w-ould  in  general  be  very  inadequate,  and  often 
erroneous.  It  is  because,  w-hile  focussing  our  eye  successively  on 
the  several  planes  of  the  object,  w-e  can  see  the  relation  of  each  to 
what  is  nearer  and  moi-o  remote  that  w-e  can  readily  acquire  a 
visual  conception  of  its  shape  as  a  whole,  and  that  unmistakablo 
perception  of  solid  form  which  is  given  by  the  combination  of  the 
two  dissimilar  perspectives  of  near  objects  in   binocular   vision 


»  The  (lotted  clreles  In  tlw?  interior  of  1  nnd  2.  of  the  same  diameter  as  3,  show 
the  cxeess  In  the  dlnmetcrs  of  the  back  lenses  of  tho  water  and  oil  objectlre* 

over  Uiat  of  the  dry  at  tudr  rc-^ectlvc  thcoretlcnl  Ilml(«. 


MICROSCOPE 


2G0 


r^    9?'«^-«.nH  ^5t  riSblTbTfomed  if  our  Tision  were  strictly  i  each  pair.     When,  on  the  other  hand  it  is  desired  to  scnitinize  mth 
(p.  273)  could  °»\P^f'°7  °V; 'r„,,,.  ._.„  .„  focusscd  the  greatest  precU  on  such  minute  details  as  are  presented  in  one 

b'mited  to  the  exact  plan^  or  which  ou.e  ^^^S'^^^^  ^^J  ^^^j  ^^^  ^^^J^^  the  thinnest 

Hence  it  is  obvious  that,  in  rnc  case  oi  "oji^"'' "."''"  ..,.^..     _.„:v,u  ci™  „f  »;„„,„  o„,.„„,i  „„f  K.f„,»„  a  „1a«  sliHn  am  its  cover- 


Hence  It  •^°»!X^''^'','",'"h   oV  penetraton  is  a  quality     possible  film  of  tissue  spread  out  between  a  glass  slide  and  its  cover- 
niodemte  »™Pl'h<=»t'°r>,/™^'  ^.'P*''„°;  ,r"7^^^^^^  1     fng  glass),  the  microscopist  wUl  prefer  an  objective  in  which  focal 

Se  'X'S°ou"t  oftheir^^p^rtu"  s'^elng  0^1^  adTaZg^^^^^^  de|t1i  is'subordinated 'to  aperture,  for  the  ike  of  the.  resolving 

so  far  as  it  does  not  seriously  interfere  with  their  penetrating 
Bower  It  is,  no  doubt,  quite  possible  to  construct  a  1  inch 
obiective  with  an  aperture  so  large  that,  when  the  requisite  ampU- 
fication  has  been  gained  by  deep  eye-piecmg,  it  shall  resolve 
the  lined  "tests"  ordinarily  used  for  a  i,  or  to  construct  ^an 
objective  of  tV  i°<:h  focus  which  shall  in  like 
ordinary  work^f  a  J.    But,  as  such  objectives  " 


thi 

^ _^  thereby  spoiled 

for  their  own  proper  work,  the  loss  to  the  microscopist  is  but 
noorlv  compensated  by  his  ability  to  resolve  with  them,  under  such 
deep  eye-pieces  as  cannot  be  habituaUy  used  without  scnous  risk  to 
the  eye-sight,  the  lined  and  dotted  tests  which  can  be  much  better 
shown  under  objectives  of  shorter  focus  and  wider  aperture,  with  eye- 
pieces of  low  amplification.  For,  whUst  deep  eye-pieces  cannot  bo 
Bahitually  employed  for  continuous  observation,  without  putting 
a  strain  upon  the  eyes  resembling  that  which  results  from  the 
constant  use  of  a  magnif5-ing  glass,  even  the  very  highest  objectives 
may  be  used  continuously  for  long  periods  in  combinaUon  with 
shallow  eye-pieces,  with  scarcely  any  fatigue,  and  therefore  (it  is 
probable)  without  sensible  injury.i  . 

In  estimating  the  goodness  of  a  microscopic  objective,  five 
distinct  qualities  have  to  be  separately  considered:— (1)  1*3  work- 
in)?  dUtance,  or  the  actual  interval  between  its  front  lens  and  the 
object  on  which  it  is  focussed;  (2)  its  penetrating  power,  or  focal 
depth;  (3)  the  flatness  of  its  field;  (4)  its  definition,  or  power  ot 
mnn"  a  distinct  image  of  all  well-marked  features  of  an  object, 
and  Specially  of  their  boundary  lines;  and  (5)  its  resolving  pon-er, 
by  which  it  separates  closely  approximated  lines,  dots,  or  striK. 

1  The  "  working  distance  "  of  an  objective  has  no  fixed  relation 
to  its  focal  length,— the  latter  being  estimated  by  its  equality  in 
»awer  with  a  single  lens  of  given  radius  of  curvahire  (such  as 
1  inch,  J  inch,  -^  inch,  &c.),  while  the  former  varies  with 
the  mode  in  which  the  combination  is  consti:ucted  and  with  the 
aperture  given  to  it.  For  low  and  moderate  powers,  ranging  up  to 
■X,  inch  focus,  good  working  distance  is  especially  important, 
alike  bocause  it  is  closely  related  to  penetrating  power,  and  also 
because  it  facilitates  the  use  of  side-illumination  for  opaque  objecfa. 
And  in  such  objectives  of  high  power  as  are  to  be  used,  not  for  the 
resolution  of  lined  or  dotted  tests,  but  for  the  observation  of  living 
and  moving  objects  ot  extreme  minuteness,  good  working  distance 
is  no  less  important,  on  account  of  its  relation  to  focal  depth.  In 
the  case  of  those  objectives,  on  the  other  hand,  in  which  resolving 
power  is  made  the  first  consideration,  it  is  only  needful  that  the 
working  distance  shall  be  such  as  to  peimit  tlie  inteiiiosition  of  a 
thin  glass  cover  ;  and  this,  although  necessarily  diminished  with 
the  n-idening  of  the  aperture,  can  be  always  obtained  by  the  adoption 
of  the  immersion  system. 

2.  The  " penetrating  power"  or  "focal  depth"  of  an  objective 
may  be  defined  as  consisting  in  the  vertical  range  through  which 
the  parts  of  an  object  not  precisclv  in  the  focal  plane  may  bo  so<?i 
with  sufficient  distinctness  to  enable  their  relations  with  what  lies 
exactly  in  that  plane  to  be  clearly  traced  out,— just  as  would  be  done 
by  ordinary  vision  if  the  object  were  itself  enlarged  to  the  dimen- 
sions of  its  microscopic  image.  The  dose  relation  between  this 
quality  and  the  preceding  becomes  obvious  when  it  is  considered 
that  the  longer  the  working  distance  of  an  objective  the  less  will 
the  distinctness  ot  the  imago  it  forms  be  adected  by  auy  given 
alteration  (say  the  ttj^tj  of  an  inch)  in  its  focal  adjustment.  Con- 
sequently, of  two  objectives  having  the  same  magnifying  power  but 
different  working  distances,  that  one  will  have  the  most  focal  ilepth 
whose  working  distance  is  the  gicater.  On  the  other  hand,  as  the 
penotiating  power  of  an  objective  is  reduced  in  direct  accordance 
with  the  increase  of  its  numerical  aperture,  it  must  be  san-ificed 
wherever  the  highest  resolving  power  is  to  be  attained.  Hence, 
as  already  remarked,  this  attribute  will  be  very  differently  valued 
by  different  observers,  according  to  the  work  on  which  they  are 
rcsi<ctively  engaged.  For  the  general  purposes  of  biological 
research,  not  only  with  low  or  moderate  (tor  the  reasons  already 
stated  ,  but  also  with  high  powei-s,  a  considerable  amount  of 
focal  depth  is  essential.  It  is  impo.saible,  for  example,  to  follow 
satisfactorily  tlio  movements  of  an  Ama-bn,  or  to  study  the 
"cjclosis"  in  the  cell  of  a  ValUsnn-ia,  or  to  ti-ace  iho  dl>>tribution 
of  a  nerve-tlireail,  with  an  objective  in  which  focal  depth  is  so 
comjiletely  sacrificed  to  aperture  that  nothing  can  bo  dibcerued 
save  what  is  precisely  in  the  focal  jilane,  since,  iu-tcad  of  parsing 
gradalionally  from  one  focal  jdane  to  another,  as  the  ob.-er\cr  can 
9  do  with  an  objcttivc  of  good  iienetration.  he  can  only  get  a  succes- 
sion of  "dissolving  views,"  with  an  interval  of  "tliaos"  between 


1  III  nco.  for  woik  of  this  kin  I.  Iho  »hnlh>»c'  eye  pl.co«  an.l  h.nccr  lulies  ut 
English  itiirroscopes  are  to  beprcfetred  tollic  ilccpciH-j  -vh  CfsantI  shoil-rtiibc^ 
ot  ti.corJIniuyConlincnlal  nioilvl.  tlic  sliallowcst  i.'y>.-l.li-ccj  of  the  liillcr  being 
usoAUy  equal  iu  po^^er  to  the  oidinury  B  i>c-idecc&  uf  the  (oiincr. 


depth  is  subordinated  to  aperture, 

power  which  he  can  thus  command.  And  it  will  often  happen  in 
biological  research  that  it  is  advantageous  thus  to  bring  objectives 
of  the  latter  class  to  bear  upon  objects  whidi  could  not  have  been 
detected  in  the  first  instance  save  by  objectives  of  much  inferior 
resolving  power  but  greater  focal  depth. 

3.  The  "flatness  of  the  field"  afforded  by  tlio  objective  is  a 
condition  of  great  importance  to  the  advantageous  use  of  the  micro- 
scope, since  tiio  extent  of  the  area  clearly  seen  at  one  time  procti- 
cally  depends  upon  it.  Slany  objectives  are  so  constinicted  that, 
even  wheu  the  object  is  perfectly  flat,  the  foci  of  the  cential  and 
peripheral  parts  of  the  field  are  so  different  that,  when  the  adjust- 
ment is  made  for  one,  the  other  is  more  or  less  indistinct.  Hence, 
when  the  central  part  of  the  area  is  in  focus,  no  more  iuformation 
is  gained  respecting  the  peripheral  than  if  tiie  latter  had  been  alto- 
gether stopped  out  With  a  really  good  objective,  not  only  shoidd 
the  imago  be  distinct  over  the  whole  field  at  once,  but  the  marginal 
portion  should  be  as  free  from  colour  as  the  cential.  As  inipcifec- 
tion  in  this  respect  is  often  masked  by  the  contraction  of  the 
aperture  of  the  diaphragm  in  Oie  eye-piece,  the  relative  meiits  of 
two  objectives,  as  regards  flatness  of  field,  should  always  be  tested 
under  an  eye- piece  giving  a  large  aperture. 

i.  The  "defining  power"  of  an  objective,  which  depends  upon 
the  completeness  of  its  corrections  for  spherical  and  for  chromatic 
aberration,  and  upon  tlie  accurate  centring  of  its  component  lenses, 
is  au  attribute  essential  to  its  satisfactory  performance,  whaUvor  may 
be  its  other  qualities,— its  importance  in  scientific  reseanh  being 
such  that  no  superiority  in  resolving  power  can  compensate  for  the 
want  of  it;  aT\d,  though  it  is  possible  to  obtain  perfect  con-ection  for 
siiherical  aberration  up  to  the  liighest  practicable  limit  of  angle,  yet 
the  difficulty  of  securing  it  increases  rapidly  witii  tho  augmenUtion 
of  aperture,  the  want  of  it  being  made  perceptible,  especially  when 
deep  eye-pieces  are  put  on,  by  the  blurring  of  clearly-marked  lines 
or  edges,  and  by  general  "fog."  Perfect  colour-con-ection,  on  the 
other°hand,  is  not  possible  for  dry  lenses  ot  the  widest  angle,  on 
account  of  tho  irrationality  of  the  secondary  specti-um  ;  but  this 
may  be  neuhalized  by  tlio  use  of  the  immersion  system.  As  already 
sUted,  what  has  to  be  aimed  at  in  the  coustiuction  of  microscopic 
objectives  is  not  absolute  colour-correction,  but  a  slight  degi-ee_  of 
over-correction,  which,  by  compensating  the  chromatic  dispereiou 
of  the  Huygenian  eye-piece,  shall  produce  an  image  fi-ee  from  false 
colour.  As  this  can  be  secured  far  more  easily  in  the  constiucfaon 
of  objectives  of  moderate  than  in  those  of  very  w4de  aperture,  tho 
cost  of  tho  former  is  proportionally  small,— au  additional  reason 
for  the  preferojice  to  bo  given  to  tiiem  on  other  grounds,  iu  regard 
to  all  save  very  special  kinds  of  microscopic  work. 

5.  "Resolving  power,  '  being  that  by  which  very  minute  and 
closely  approximated  markings— whether  lines,  shrise,  dots,  or 
aperhires— can  be  separately  discerned,  is  a  function  which  is  only  of 
primary  importance  in  objectives  whose  amplifying  power  siiecially 
fits  them  for  the  study  of  objects  of  this  class.  It  appears  from  the 
matliematical  researches  of  Professor  Abbe  that  the  maximum 
resoU-ing  power  (with  a  theoretical  angle  of  180°)  would  be  capable 
of  separating  1-16,528  lines  to  the  inch  ;  but  he  considers  the  limit 
of  visual  resolution  depending  on  the  power  of  the  eye  to  be  about 
-PPiVtre  of  an  inch  ;  and  this  limit  seems  to  have  been  nearly 
reached.  To  make  such  a  separation  distiuctly  perceptible,  an 
amplification  of  at  least  3000  linear  would  be  requisite;  and  this 
can  only  be  obtained  citiier  by  the  use  of  an  objective  of  very  high 
power  (such  as  -^  inch  focusl  in  combination  witli  a  low  or  nieduini 
3S-e-piece  or  by'putting  a  very  deep  eye-piece  upon  an  objective  of 
lower  power  (such  as  a  i  inchl,— the  former  method,  for  tlie  reasons 
already  given,  being  ilecidedly  preferable.  For  the  resolution  of  less 
closely  appro.'iimated  markings  objectives  of  -^t  Ai  i*?-  *'"J  » 
inch  answer  very  well ;  and  the  resolving  power  which  they 
require  niav  bo  obtained  witiiout  any  excessive  widening  of  the 
aperture.  Vor  tiie  loss  of  resolving  power  consequent  upon  the 
contraction  of  tlie  angle  of  a  walei-inimci-sion  objective  to  128J  is 
only  oue-tentli  of  tlie'thcoreti^al  maximum  128,212  ;  while  a  reduc- 
tion to  1055°  only  lowers  tlie  number  of  separable  lines  to  102,184 
to  the  inch.— tints  diminishing  the  resohiiig  power  by  little  mote 
titan  one-fifth,  while  tho  working  distance  ami  focal  depth  of  the 
combination  are  greatly  increased,  and  perfect  defimrion  is  moro 
certainly  attahiable.  The  i  inch  is  (according  to  the  writers 
experience,  whicli  is  coiifirmcl  bv  tiie  tlieoretical  deductions  ol 
Professor  Abbe)  tho  lowest  objective  in  whidi  resolving  powei 
should  be  made  the  primaiT  qualification,— tiie  J,  J,  },;  anil  , J 
inch  belli"  specially  suited  to  kinds  of  biological  work  in  \yhicli 
this  is  fai°les3  important  than  focal  deptii  and  dioptric  precision. 
This  view  is  strengthened  by  tiie  very  imj-ortant  consideration  that 
tho  rcsolvin"  power  given  bv  wide  apertiiie  cannot  be  utiltzed, 
I  e.'ccept  by  a  nioihod  of  Uluin-uation  that  causes  light  to  pasa  thiougH 


270 


MICRO  SCO  P  E' 


the  object  at  iin  oHiquity  coh'csponding  to  that  at  which  tlie  most 
(livci-gcnt  rays  enter  the  objective.  Now,  althou"li  in  the  case  of 
object*  whoso  markings  aic  only  superficial  siicli  obliiniity  may  not 
bo  proiUictivo  of  false  appearances  (though  even  this  is  scarcely  con- 
ceivable), it  must  have  tliat  effect  when  the  object  is  thick  enough 
to  have  an  internal  structure  ;  and  the  experience  of  all  biological 
observei-s  who  have  carried  out  the  most  delicate  and  dilHcidt 
investigations  is  in  accord,  not  only  as  to  the  advantage  of  direct 
illumination,  but  as  to  the  deceptivcncss  of  the  appearances  given 
by  oblicpie,  and  the  consequent  danger  of  error  in  any  inferences 
drawn  from  the  latter.  Thus,  for  example,  the'  admirable  researches 
'of  Strasshur^er,  Fleming,  Kh'in,  and  others  upon  the  changes  whicli 
take  place  in  cell-nuclei  during  their  subdivision  can  only  be 
followed  and  verified  (as  the  writer  can  personally  testify)  by 
examination  of  these  objects  under  a.xial  illumination,  with  objec- 
tives of  an  angle  so  moderate  as  to  possess  focal  depth  enough  to 
follow  the  wonderful  did'ercntiation  of  component  parts  brought  out 
by  staining  processes  througli  their  whole  thickness. 

The  most  perfect  objectives  for  the  ordinary  purposes  of  scientific 
research,  therefore,  will  be  obviously  those  whicli  combine  exact 
definition  and  flatness  of  field  with  tlie  widest  aperture  that  can  be 
given  witho\it  an  inconvenient  reduction  of  working  distance  and 
loss  of  the  degree  of  focal  depth  suitable  to  the  work  on  which  they 
are  respectively  to  be  employed.  These  last  attributes  are  especially 
needed  in  the  study  of  living  and  moving  objects  ;  and,  in  the  case 
of  these,  dry  objettives  are  decidedly  preferable  to  immersion, 
since  the  shifting  of  the  slide  which  is  requisite  to  enable  the  move- 
ment of  the  object  to  bo  followed  is  very  apt  to  produce  disarrange- 
ment of  the  interposed  drop.  And,  owing  to  the  solvent  power  whfch 
the  essential  oils  employed  for  homogeneous  immersion  have  for 
the  ordinary  cements  and  varnishes,  such  care  is  necessary  in  the 
use  of  objectives  constructed  to  work  with  them  as  can  only  be 
given  when  the  observer  desires  to  make  a  very  minute  aud  critical 
examination  of  a  securely-mounted  object. 

The  following  table  expresses  the  magnifying  powers  of  objectives 
constructed  on  the  English  scale  of  inches  and  parts  of  an  inch,  with 
the  10  inch  body  and  the  A  and  B  cye-picccs  usually  supplied  by 
English  makers,  and  also  specifies  the  angle  of  apertutc  which,  in  the 
\vriter's  judgment,  is  most  suitable  for  each.  He  has  the  satisfac- 
tion of  finding  that  his  opinions  on  tliis  latter  point,  which  are 
based  on  long  experience  in  the  microscopic  studv  of  a  wider  range 
of  animal  and  vegetable  objects  than  has  fallen  within  the  purview 
of  most  of  his  contemporaries,  are  in  accordance  with  the  conclu- 
sions drawn  by  Professor  Abbe  from  his  profound  investigations  into 
tho  theory  of  microscopic  -vision,'  whicli  have  been  carried  into 
practical  accomplishment  in  the  excellent  productions  of  Mr  Zeiss. 


Maun 

(jlng 

Slncr, 

fylng 

Focnl 
length. 

Angiilfir 
Aperture. 

cr. 

FoMl 
Length. 

AiifTular 
Al.crlure. 

cr. 

A  Eye- 

B Evc- 

A  Eye- 

B Evc- 

^ 

piece. 

plecc. 

piece. 

plccc.  1 

4  rhclies 

; 

12 

18 

i  Inch. 

50-80 

ioo 

12 

18 

27 

95 

2-.0 

15 

ti 

87 

1     < 

110 

V  " 

20 

30 

it 

9      ,. 

1-10 

400  • 

CO 

T'. 

A  ■.. 

150 

500 

1  ., 

40 

-5 

112 

\    .. 

1(10 

GOO 

1  " 

44 

100 

1.50 

s . 

170 

800 

A      n 

125 

187 

.  For  ordinary  biological  work,  the  J,  yVt  and  jJ,  objectives,  with 
aiiglea  of  from  100°  to  120°,  will  be  found  to  answer  extremely 
well  if  constructed  on  the  water-immersion  system. 

-Each  of  these  jiowers  should  bo  tested  upon  objects  most  suited 
Hrdctcrmiue  its  capacity  for  the  particular  kind  of  work  on  whicli  it 
i»  to  be  employed;  and,  in  such  testing,  the  application  of  deepeioye- 
piecea  than  can  be  habitually  employed  with  advant.ige  will  often 
serve  to  bring  out  marked  diiferenccs  between  two  obje'c-tivcs  which 
seem  to  work  almost  equally  well  under  tliose  or.linarily  uscil,— 
defects  in  definition  or  colour-correction,  nud  want  of  light,  which 
■Bight  otherwise  have  escaped  notice,  being  thus  niado^apparent. 
No  single  object  is  of  such  general  utility  for  these  purposes  as  a 
large  well-marked  PoiUira  scale  ;  for  the  eye  which  has  been  trained 
to  the  use  of  a  particular  specimen  ol  it  w  ill  soon  loam  to  rccogiii« 
by  its  means  th/j  qualities  of  any  objective  lictwccn  1  inch  and  f 
inch  focus  ;  and  it  may  bo  safely  asserted  that  the  objective  which 
most  clearly  and  sharply  exhibits  its  chaiacteristic  markings  is  the 
best  for  the  ordinary  work  of  the  histologist. 

For  the  special  attribute  of  resolving  power,  on  the  other  hand, 
tests  of  an  entirely  dilfcrent  order  are  required  ;  and  tliese  are  fur- 
nished, as  already  stated,  cither  by  the  more  "dilficnlt"  diatoms, 
or  by  the  highest  numbers  of  S'obert's  ruled  tcstplatc.  Tlie 
diatom-valve  at  present  most  in  use  as  a  test  for  resolving 
power  is  the  Amp/iiplcitra  pclliici'Ut,  the  lines  on  which  were  long 
supposed  to  be  more  closely  ap]iroxiniatcd  than  those  of  Koberts 


nincteentli  band,  being  affirmed  by  Mr  SoUitt  to  range  from  120 
to  lyo  in  riVi!  of  an  ineli.  But'the  admirable  photographs  of 
this  valve  obtained  by  Colonel  Dr  ^Voodward  have  confirmed  the 
conclusion  long  previously  expressed  by  the  writer,  that  this  esfi'- 
mate  was  far  too  high,  being  based  on  the  "spurious  lineation'i 
juoduced  by  dilfraction,  and  show  that  the  strioe  on  the  largest 
valves  do  not  exceed  91,  while  those  on  the  smallest  are  never  more 
numerous  than  100,  in  „Vir  of  an  inch.  The  same  admirable 
manipulator  has  also  obtained  excellent  photographs  of  another  very 
difficult  test-diatom,  Siirirclla  gcmmn,  from  which  it  appears 
that  its  transverse  stiia;  count  longitudinally  at  the  rate  of  72,000 
to  the  inch,  whilst  the  beaded  appearances  into  which  these  may 
be  resolved  count  transversely  at  tlie  rate  of  84,000  to  the  inchj 
Thus  it  aiipears  that  the  complete  resolution  of  these  "vesatiousij 
diatoms  dors  not  require  by  any  means  the  maximum  of  aperture' 
but  is  probably  dependent  at  least  as  much  on  the  perfection  of  the 
corrections  and  the  elfcctiveness  of  tlie  illumination. 

It  must  be  understood  that  there  is  no  intention  in  these  remarks 
to  undervalue  the  efforts  which  have  been  pcrseveringlv  made  byi 
the  ablest  oonBtruetors  of  microscopic' objectives  in  the  <{irection  of 
enlargement  of  aperture.  For  these  efforts,  besides  increasing  the' 
resolving  power  of  tho  instrument,  have  done  tlie  great  service  of 
producing  a  vast  improvement  in  the  quality  of  those  objectives  of 
moderate  aperture  which  are  most  valuable  to  the  scientific  biolo- 
gist ;  and  the  microscopist  who  wishes  his  aiinamcntum  to  be  com-' 
plete  Will  provide  himself  witli  objectives  of  those  difl'erent  qualities,^ 
as  well  as  different  powers,  which  shall  best  suit  his  particul%5 
requirements.'  - 

iLLUMrXATIXO  ApPARATTS. 

Every  improvement  in  the  optical  performance  of  the  compound 
achrotnatic  microscope  has  called  forth  a  corresponding  improve-j 
ment  in  the  illumination  of  the  objects  viewed  by  it,  since  it  soon 
came  to  be  anparent  that  without  such  improvement  the  full  ad- 
vantage of  the  increased  defining  and  resolving  powers  of  th^ 
objectives  could  not  be  obtained.  For  the  illumination  of  trans^ 
parent  objects  examined  by  light  transmitted  through  them  unde^ 
low  powers  of  moilerate  angle  a  converging  pencil  of  .rays  reflected) 
upon  their  under  surface  by  a  concave  mirror  is  generally  sunicient,-3 
a  "condenser"  being  only  needed  when  the  imperfect  trausparenc* 
of  the  object  requires  the  transmission  of  more  light  through  iq 
And  the  microscopist  engaged  in  ordinary  biological  studies,  who 
works  on  very  transparent  objects  with  objectives  of  J  or  J  incti 
focus,  or  t",  inch  immersion,  will  find  that  tho  small  concaW 
mirror  of  short  focus  with  which  the  Continental  models  are  fur^ 
nished  (sec  fig.  28)  will  generally  prove  sufhcient  for  his  needs.  Thi) 
mirror  is  nsually  hnng  at  snch  a  distanc*  beneath  the  stage  ^hai 
parallel  rays  falling  on  it  are  brought  to  a  focus  in  the  (^jject  as  it 
lies  on  a  slip  of  glass  resting  on  the  stage  ;  an.l  thus,  when  the 
instrument  is  used  by  day,  the  light  of  a  bright  cloud  (which  isprej 
fcrable  to  any  other)  gives  a  weil-iHuminatcd  field,  even  with  thi 
powers  last-mentioned.  But  when  laniidight  is  used  its  divergent 
rays  are  .-lot  brought  to  a  focus  in  the  object  by  a  mirror  that  iJ 
fixed  as  just  stated;  and  the  distance  of  the  mirror  bcneatli  the 
stage  should  be  made  capable  of  increase  (which  is  easilv  done  bj 
attaching  it  to  a  lengthening  bari,  so  as  to  obtain  the  requisite 
focal  convergence.  Still  the  best  ell'ccts.  of  objectives  of  less  than 
i  inch  focus  cannot  bo  secured  without  the  ai.l  of  an  achromatic 
condenser,  interposed  between  the  mirror  and  the  object,  so  as  to 
bring  a  larger  body  of  rays  to  a  more  exact  convergence. 

When  objectives  of  stiil  higher  jiower  are  employed,  fhe  employ- 
ment of  such  a  condenser  becomes  iiidisiiensable  ;  and  when  thp 
lii,i;lie-.t  powers  are  being  iiscil  by  lamplight,  it  is  desirable  to  dis- 
jii'iisc  with  (lie  mirror  altogether,  and  loplacc  the  flame  exactly  in' 
tlio  optic  axis  of  the  microscope.  Tlie  condenser  shoul.l  be  an 
a'iiroinatic  cnmbiiiation,  corrected  for  the  ordinary  thickness  of 
till)  glass  sli|i  on  which  the  object  li-.-s,  and  capable  of  being  so 
adjusted  as  to  focus  the  illuiiiinatiug  pencil  in  the  object.' 

As  it  is  often  foun.l  desirable  that  an  object  slionld  bc"illuniinated 
by  centra!  rnvs  alone,  or  that  the  qnantitv  of  light  transmitted 
through  it  should  be  reduced  (for  bringing  into  view  delicate  dctaiU 
of  structure  whicli  are  invisible  when  the  object  is  flooiloJ  nith' 
light),  every  microscope  should  bo  provide.!  wiili  some  means  oi 
cutting  olV  the  oul.-r  rays  of  t!ic  illuniinaliiig  cone.  T!ie  "ilia? 
phi.agin-plate"  or.linarily  nsc.l  for  this  pur|>OH'  is  a  disk  of  blaelc 
Mietal.  i.ivotcdto  tlienn.lcr  si.le  of  the  stage,  an.l  perforated  witlii 
gra.liiate.Isoriesofaprrluresof  dilfircnt.liaiiietei-s,  any  one  of  wliicK 
can  bo  brought,  by  the  rotation  of  the  di^k,  exactly  into  the  o|itic 
axis  of  the  microscope.  But  the  rci|uired  elfcct  caii  bo  much  more 
advantageously  obtained  by  the  "  iiis.liaphraguf,"* in  which  a 
niiinbir  of  c.mvergiiig  plates  of  metal  are  made  so  to  sli.lc'over 
each  other  by  the  motion  of  a  I.  ver  or  screw .  thatl|ithe'-'a|yr^ 
tuiv  is  either  enlarged  or  diminished,  while  alw.aysieniainiiig-'pi-acj 
tically  circular  as  well  as  central ;  and  in  this  manner  a  continuous 


»  S.r  llie  rcmarUi  of  Mr  D.illlnjcr.-nliMc  c. 
Iik-l.i-t  |im.cr.  lo  Mm  Miuly  o(  ll.c  iiiinutc-1  li.l. 
•liULC  uLuOJLU^il'8  0bKTVcr.-=-ln  Jour.  Hey.  Ji/ic 


in  t'lC  applirntlon  of  llie 
\\  p!  Ol.-.blv  ji  rulur  I  li«D 

JSor.uDeccmlii;&'iaS2.ji_S5^ 


MICKOSCOFE 


271 


Tiew  of  the  object  is  obtained,  witli  a  m-aJational  modification  of  the 
Light.  Another  motlioJ.  coiuuionly  adopted  in  German  microseopcs, 
is  to  place  a  draw-tube  in  tlto  optic  axis  between  tlio  stage  and  the 
miiTor,  and  to  diop  into  tlic  top  of  tliis  tube  one  of  a  set  of  "  stops  " 
perforated  with  apertures  of  dilfercnt  sijics  ;  this  allows  a  gra- 
aational  clfcct  to  bo  obtained  by  i-aisiug  or  lowering  the  tube,  so  as 
to  place  tho  stop  nearer  to  or  move  remote  from  the  object ;  but  it 
is  not  nearly  so  convenient  as  the  iiis-diaplu-agin ;  and  the  effect  of 
the  stop  is  not  nearly  so  good  when  it  is  removed  to  some  dis- 
tance bencatli  the  object  as  when  it  is  very  near  to  the  under  sui-- 
face  of  tlio  glass  object-slide.  Wlicn  an  achromatic  condenser  is 
used,  either  a  iliapliragm -plate  or  an  iris-diaphiagra  should  be  placed 
below  its  back  lens,  so  as  to  cut  olf  any  required  proportion  of  tlie 
outer  mys  that  fonn  its  illuminating  cone. 

Such  an  arrangement,  while  suiting  all  tho  ordinary  requirements 
of  tho  microscopibt  who  uses  tho  higliest  powers  of  his  instruuient 
for  the  purposes  of  biological  ijivestigation  (as,  for  example,  in  tho 
study  of  Bttctci-Ui  or  of  tlie  reproduction  of  the  i£unadiiui\  does  not 
eerve  to  bring  into  ctfective  uso  tlio  special  resolving  power  pos- 
sessed by  objectives  of  largo  apertmc.  It  has  long  been  known 
that  for  tho  discorumcut  of  very  closely  apnro-xinjatcd  markin;;3 
oblique  illuminatiou  is  advantageous, — anobjectivo  which  exiiibits 
such  8  diatoiu-valvo  as  Plcuyovigiuti  augtJattiiii  with  a  smooth  un- 
marked surface  when  illuminated  by  the  central  rays  of  tho  achro- 
Diatijc  condenser  making  its  characteristic  markings  (figs.  8-11) 
Sistiuctly  visible  when  the  central  rays  of  tho  condenser  arc  kept 
back  by  a  stop,  aud  the  object  is  illuminated  by  its  couvergent  mar- 
ginal rays  only.  And  it  has  also  been  practically  known  for  souie 
time  that  tlio  resolution  of  lined  or  dotted  tests  can  be  often 
effected  by  mirror  illumination  alone,  if  the  miiTor  bo  so  mounted 
as  to  be  able  to  reflect  rays  through  the  object  at  such  oblit|uity  to 
the  optic  axis  of  tlie  microscope  as  to  reach  tho  margiii  of  a  widc- 
anglcd  objective.  Cut  it  has  only  been  since  Professor  Abbe's 
researches  havo  givcji  tho  true  theory  of  "resolution"  that  tlio 
special  advantage  of  oblique  illumination  has  been  fully  compre- 
hended, an<l  that  the  best  means  liave  been  deWsed  for  using  it 
effectively.  Two  dilfcrent  systems  have  now  come  into  use,  each 
of  wlUch  ha*s  its  special  advantages. 

One  consists  in  tlio  attadiiuent  of  tho  illuminating  appaiatus 
(miiTor  and  achi-oinatic  coiidcnscr)  to  a  **  swinging  tail-piece  "  (see 
fig.  3'2),  whidx,  moving  radially  upon  a  pivot  whoso  axis  intersects 
the  ontic  axis  at  right  angles  in  tljo  plane  of  tlio  object,  can  trans- 
mit tlie  illuminating  i)cncil  through  it  at  auy  degree  of  oblitjuity 
that  the  constiniction  of  tho  stigo  allows.  Tlic  directiou  of  this 
pencil  being  of  coui-sc  limited  to  one  azimuth,  it  is  requisite,  in  orilcr 
to  bring  out  its  full  resolving  eflect,  that  the  object  should  bo  made 
to  rotate,  by  making  tlie  stage  tJiat  carries  it  revolve  round  the 
optic  axis,  so  that  thu  oblique  pencil  may  impinge  ujion  tlie  lines  or 
other  markings  of  tho  object  in  every  directiou  successively.  It 
will  then  be  found  tJiat  tlio  appearances  jiresentcd  by  tiio  same 
object  often  var^  considerably, — one  set  of  lines  being  shown  when 
tho  object  lies  in  one  azimuth,  ami  anotlier  when  its  azimutli  has 
been  ciiangod  by  rotation  tl>rou''li  6u°,  90",  or  sonio  other  angle. 
Various  contrivances  havo  also  been  devised  for  throwing  very 
oblique  illuminating  pencils  on  the  object  by  lueans  of  [irisms 
placed  bcneatli  tlic  sLige. 

innmination  of  at  least  equal  obliquity  to  that  afforded  by  tho 
swinging  tail-)iicco  may  now,  lio-vcver,  bo  obtained  by  tho  use  of 
condensers  spei  ially  eonstiuctcd  to  give  a  divergence  of  ITO"  to  tho 
rays  which  they  transmit  wlien  used  immersionally,  by  bringing 
their  flat  tops  into  api>io.umation  to  tlie  under  sido  of  the  glass 
slide  on  which  tho  object  is  moniit^d,  with  tho  interiKj.sition 
of  a  film  of  water  or  (preferably)  of  glycerin.  By  using  a  eeiitial 
stop,  marginal  rays  alone  may  In;  alluwed  to  ]>ass ;  and  these  will 
bo  transmitted  tliiungli  the  obje.t  ill  ivviy  azimuth  at  the  same 
time.  But  diaphragms wiili  apellnivs  limiiing  the  transmitted  rays 
to  onu  part  of  tlie  periplni y  may  bo  so  lixed  in  a  tube  beneath 
tho  condenser  as  to  bo  ea.sily  made  to  rotate,  thus  sending  its 
obliquo  peiii  ils  through  the  olijec-t  in  every  azimuth  in  succession. 
Aud  wliei-u  this  rotation  of  the  diaphragm  brings  out  two  sets  of 
lines  at  o  certain  angular  inteival  a  dia|.liragm  with  two  margin.al 
-oi>eiiiiig«  at  a  lorri'sponding  angular  distance  will  enable  both  to 
bo  seen  .it  once.  Xniinious  arrangements  of  tliis  kind  have  been 
Jcvi.sed  by  those  who  devoto  their  s]ieejal  attention  to  tlio  rcxo' 
lution  of  dillienlt  diatom-tests  ;  but  tiny  are  of  little  or  no  use  to 
those  who  use  the  microseu[io  for  biological  research. 

For  tho  ilhiminntion  of  the  surfaces  id'  opaque  objects  which  must 
be  seen  by  rellcited  liglit  tlie  means  emidoyed  will  vary  with  tho 
focal  length  of  tlio  objective  emido\eJ.  For  large  bright  obiiets 
viewed  under  a  low  inagnilying  ]<o 
sullicient  ;  but  if  the  snifaeV  of  th 
little  li-ht,  die  aid  of  a  bull's-eyo  o 
♦  employed  in  order  to  give  it  siilhc 
always  I«  rciiuircd  by  lamplight ;  ! 

tho  rolalivo  distances  of  tliu  lauip  and  the  object  tho  nx\n  from  the 
lamp  may  bo  made  either  to  spread  themselves  over  a  wide  ana  or 
to  couvergc  iipoji  a  email  spot.    The  former  is  the  method  suitablo 


to  large  objects  viewed  under  a  low  maenifying  power  ;  tho  latter 
to  the  illumination  of  email  objects  whict  are  to  be  examined  under 
objectives  of  (say)  1  inch  or  J  inch  focus.  Another  method  which 
may  be  conveniently  had  recoui-se  to  when  the  microscopo  is  pro- 
vided with  a  swinging  tail-piece  is  to  tmn  this  on  its  pivot  until 
the  concave  mirror  is  brought,  above  tho  stagf,  so  that  lays  which 
it  gathei-s  either  .from  natural  or  artiticial  sources  may  be  reflected 
downwards  upon  tlie  s&rface  of  the  object. 

Tho  illumination  of  an  opaque  object  to  be  seen  with  a  higher 
power  than  the  j  or  J  inch  objectives  was  formerly  provided  for 
by  a  concave  speculum  (termed  a  Liebeikulin  after  its  inventor),  with 
a  perforation  in  the  centre  for  the  passage  of  the  rays  to  the  objec- 
tive to  which  it  is  fitted,— the  cnrvatuie  of  the  speculum  being  so 
adapted  to  the  focus  of  the  objective  which  carries  it  that,  when 
the  latter  is  duly  adjusted,  tlic  lays 
rcllected  upwards  around  the  object 
fi'om  tho  mirror  to  the  speculum 
shall  converge  strongly  on  the  ob- 
ject. The  various  disadvantages  of 
this  mode  of  illumination,  however, 
havo  caused  it  to  bo  now  generally 
superseded  by  other  arrangements. 
For  powers  betw-een  lA  inch  and 
^'n  iiich,  and  even  for  a  J  or  i  inch 
of  small  angle  and  good  working 
distance,  nothing  is  so  convenieut 
as  the  parabolic  speculum  or  side- 
illuminator  (F,  fig.  17) invented  by 
the  late  Richard  Beck.  This  is 
attached  to  a  spring-clip  that  slides 
on  the  tubes  of  low-[iower  objec- 
tives, so  that  its  distance  from  the 
object  and  the  direction  of  its  re- 
flected pencil  are  rea.lily  adjusted  ;  F'o- 17>— Beck's  Parabolic  Side- 
and  for  use  with  higher  powers  it  IHummator,  with  Crouch's 
may  be  either  mounted  on  a  sejiar  Adapter, 
ate  anil  attached  to  some  part  of  the  stand  of  the  microscope,  or 
may  be  hung  in  the  manner  shown  in  fig.  17  from  an  '*  adapter  " 
A  interposed  between  the  objective  and  the  body.  By  rotating 
the  collar  B  and  making  use  of  the  joints  C,  C,  the  lengthening 
rod  D,  and  tlie  ball  and  socket  F,,  any  position  may  be  given  to  the 
speculum  F  that  may  best  suit  the  objective  with  which  it  is  used.  \ 

When,  however,  it  is  dcsu-ed  to  illuminate  objects  to  be  seen  under 
objectives  of  high  power  and  very  short  working  distance,  side 
illuminatiou  of  any  kind  becomes  diflicult,  though  not  absolutely, 
impo&sible ;  *  and  various  modes  have  been  devised  for  the  illumina- 
tion of  tlic  object  by  means  of  light  sent  down  upon  it,  through 
tlio  objective,  from  above.  This  isdono  in  the  vertical  illuminator 
of  ilcssi-3   Beck   (fig.    18) — tho  original   idea  of  which  was  first 


rtr  gooil  oiilinary  ilaylighr  is 
object  is  dull,  ixlleeling  but 
■  larso  bi-convex  lens  must  bo 
cut  biillianeo.  This  aid  will 
nd  by  a  iinqn-r  adjustment  ot 


f  ic.  18.  —Beck's  Vertical  Illuminator, 
given  by  the  Amoiiean  Professor  H.  h.  Smith— by  a  disk  of 
thin  glaU  li,  I,  atraehed  to  a  milled  head  by  which  its  angulat 
Iioaition  may  be  adjusted,  and  introduced  by  a  slot  A,  c  into  thq 
interior  of  an  adapter  that  is  interposed  between  the  objective  C,  it 
and  tho  nose  c  of  the  body.  The  light  which  entci-s  at  the  lateral 
aperture  A,  c,  falling  U)ion  the  obliciuo  surface  of  the  disk  C,  6,  i^ 
rellected  downwards,  and  is  concentrated  by  tho  lenses  of  th^ 
objective  upon  the  object  beneath.  The  lateral  aperture  may  b<J 
provided  with  a  diaphragm,  with  openings  of  dillerent  sizes,  foe 
diminishing  the  false  light  to  which  this  method  is  liable ;  or  a  sci-eej 
witli  a  small  ai'crturc  may  be  placed  between  the  lamp  and  tlirf 

1  .S.T  n  mnh.ul  Jtvlsccl  by  Mr  Jiimn  Siiiilli,  in  Jo'r-  R")-  Mi<rti.  Sof,,  voL  l^ 
K.  S.,  ISB'i,  v-  ^'J^- 


272 


MICROSCOPE 


illuminator,  at  any  distance  that  is  found  to  produce  the  best  effects. 
In  using  this  illuminator,  the  lamp  should  be  placed  at  a  distance 
of  about  8  inches  from  the  aperture;  and,  when  the  proper  adjust- 
ments have  been  made,  the  image  of  the  flame  should  bo  seen  upon 
the  object.  The  illumination  of  the  entire  field,  or  the  direction  of 
tlio  light  more  or  less  to  either  side  of  it,  can  easily  be  managed  by 
the  interposition  of  a  small  condensing  lens  placed  at  about  the  dis- 
tance of  Its  own  focus  from  the  lamp.  The  objects  viewed  by  this 
mode  of  illumination  with  dry-front  objectives  are  best  uncovered, 
since,  if  they  are  covered  with  thin  glass,  so  large  a  proportion  of 
the  light  sent  down  upon  them  is  reflected  from  the  cover  (especially 
when  objectives  of  large  ande  of  aperture  are  employed)  that  very 
little  is  seen  of  the  objects  beneath,  unless  their  reflective  power  is 
very  high.  "With  immersion  objectives,  however,  covered  objects 
may  be  used.  Another  method  of  vertical  illumination  long  since 
o&vised  by  Mr  Tolles  has  recently  been  brought  into  notice  by 
Professor  W.  A.  Rogers  of  Boston  (U.  S.).  It  consists  in  the  in'- 
ti-oduction  of  a  small  rectangular  prism  at  a  short  distance  behind 
the  front  combination  of  the  objective,  so  that  parallel  rays  enter- 
ing its  vertical  surface  pass  on  between  its  parallel  liorizontal  sur- 
faces until  they  meet  the  inclined  surface,  by  which  they  are 
i-eflected  downwards.  In  passing  tlirough  the  front  combination  of 
the  objective,  they  arc  deflected  towanls  its  axis  ;  but,  as  their 
angle  of  convergence  is  less  than  the  angle  of  divergence  of  the  rays 
proceeding  from  the  object,  the  reflected  rays  will  not  meet  in  tlio 
local  point  of  the  lens,  but  will  be  so  distributed  as  to  illuminate 
a  sufticieiit  area.  By  altering  the  extent  to  which  the  prism  is 
pushed  in,  or  by  lifting  or  depressing  its  outer  end  by  means  of  a 
niilled-head  screw,  the  field  of  illumination  can  be  regulated.  The 
working  of  this  prism  with  immersion-objectives  is  stated  by  Mr 
Tolles  to  bo  peculiarly  satisfactory. 

Black-Ground  Illumination. — There  are  certain  classes  of  objects 
which,  though  sufficiently  transi»arent  to  be  seen  with  light  trans- 
mitted through  them,  are  best  viewed  when  illuminated  by  rays  X>i 
such  obliquity  as  not  to  pass  directly  into  tlie  objective, — such  a 
proportion  of  tliese  rays  being  retained  by  the  object  as  to  render  it 
self-luminous,  when,  all  direct  li^ht  being  cut  otf,  tlio  general  field 
is  perfectly  dark.  This  method  is  particularly  effective  in  the  case 
of  such  delicate  mineral  structures  as  the  siliceo^  tests  of  Pohj- 
cijsiina  and  the  *'frustules"  of  Dialomaccw.  And  it  is  one  ad- 
vantage of  tliis  kind  of  illumination  tliat  it  bi-ings  out  with 
considerable  etlect  the  solid  forms  of  objects  suited  to  it,  even 
when  they  are  viewed  monocularly.  Two  modes  of  jiroviding  this 
illumination  are  in  use,  each  of  which  has  its  special  advantages. 
One  consists  in  placing  a  central  stop  either  upon  or  immediately 
beneath  a  condenser  of  wide  aperture,  which  shall  cut  ofi'all  rays 
save  those  that,  after  passing  through  the  object  {as  in  fig,  20), 
diverge  at  an  angle  greater  than  that  of  the  objective  used  ;  so 
that,  while  tlio  ground  is  darkened,  the  object  is  seen  brightly 
standing  out  upon  it.  But  if  tlie  divergence  of  the  rays  is  but 
moderate  (say  60°),  and  the  angle  of  tlie  ob}ect:ive  is  large  (say 
90°),  the  most  divergent  rays  of  the  condenser  will  enter  the  mar- 
giual  portion  of  the  objective,  and,  tho. field  not  being  darkened, 
the  black-ground  eff'ect  will  not  be  produced.  This  method 
^as  the  gleat  convenience  of  allowing  black-ground  illumination 
to  be  substituted  for  the  ordinary  illumination  under  dilfcrent 
powers,  without  any  other  change  in  the  a]'i^aratus  than  the  turning 
of  a  diaphragm-plate  fitted  with  stojis  of  dillcrcnt  sizes  «uitablo  to 
the  several  ai>crtures  of  the  objectives  ;  and  the  modern  achro- 
matic condensers  of  wide  a]>erture  can  he  thus  used  with  objectives 
of  120°  QUfjlc. 

An  excellent  black -gi'ound  illumination  is  also  given  by  tho  para- 
bolic illuminator  (fig.  19),  originally  worked  out  as  a  silvered 
sneculum  by  Mr  "Wenham,  but  now  made  as  a  paraboloid  of  glass 
that  reflects  to  its  focus  the  rays  which  fall  upon  its  internal  surlace. 
A  diagrammatic  section  of  this  instrnment,  showing  the  course  of 
the  rays  through  it,  is  given  in  fig.  20,  tlie  shaded  portion  repre- 
senting the  paraboloid.  The  parallel  rays  r,  ;•',  i-",  entering  its  lower 
surface  i>erpendiculaily,  pass  on  until  tlicy  meet  its  jiavabolic 
surface,  on  which  they  fall  at  such  an  angle  as  to  be  totally  reflcctrd 
by  it,  and  are  all  directed  to^^ards  its  focus  F.  Tlic  top  of  tlio 
paraboloid  being  ground  out  into  a  spherical  curve  of  whidi  F  is 
the  centre,  the  rays  in  emerging  from  it  undergo  no  refraction,  since 
each  falls  jierpendicularly  upon  the  part  of  tlio  surface  through 
which  it  passes.  A  stoj)  placed  at  S  prevents  any  ^t'  the  ravs 
reflected  upwards  by  the  mirror  from  passing  to  the  object,  whic)i, 
being  placed  at  F,  is  illuminated  by  the  rays  reflected  into  it  from 
all  sides  of  the  paraboloid.  Those  lays  which  i>ass  tlirough  it 
diverge  again  at  various  angles  ;  and  if  the  least  of  these,  GFIi,  be 
greater  flian  the  angle  of  aperture  of  the  object-glass,  none  of  them 
can  enter  it.  The  stop  is  attached  to  a  stem  of  wire,  which  pasM's 
vertically  tlirough  the  paraboloid  and  terminates  in  a  knob  beneath, 
as  shown  in  fig.  19  ;  and  by  means  of  tliis  it  may  be  inislicd 
upwards,  so  as  to  cut  olf  the  less  divergent  rays  in  their  pasi^a^.'c 
towards  the  object,  thus  giving  a  black-ground  illumination  with 
objectives  of  an  angle  of  aperture  much  wider  than  GFH.  In  lising 
the  paraboloid  for  delicate  objects,  the  rays  \\hicli  are  made  to  enter 


it  should  be  parallel ;  consequently  tho  plane  mirror  should  alwajs 
be  omi)loycd  ;  and  when,  instead  of  the  parallel  rays  of  daylight,  we 


are  obliged  to  use  th 
rendered  as  parallel  a; 
the  mirror,  by  tho 
interposition  of  tho 
"  biill's-eyo  "  so  ad- 
justed as  to  produce 
this  eflVct.  There  are 
many  cases,  however, 


lamp,   thoso  should  be 
possible,  previously  to  their  reflexion  from 


i*arabohc  llJuuiinulur. 


in  which  the  stronger  light  of  tho  concave  mirror  is  i»referable.' 
When  it  is  desired  that  the  light  should  fall  on  the  object  from  one 
side  only,  the  circular  oi^^ning  at  the  bottom  of  the  wide  tube  that 
carries  the  paraboloid  may  be  fitted  with  a  diaphragm  adapted  to 
cover  all  but  a  certain  portion  of  it ;  and,  by  giving  rotation  to 
this  diaphragm,  rays  of  great  obliquity  ma/  bo  made  to  fall  upon 
the  object  from  every  azimuth  in  succession. 

In  order  to  adapt  this  paraboloid  to  objectives  of  very  vdde  angle 
of  aperture,  a  special  modification  of  it,  originally  devised  by  Mr 
"Wenliam,  has  been  latterly  reintrodu'^*.!  under  the  designation  ol 
"immersion-paraboloid,"  with  most  .xocllent  cH'cct.  This  consists 
in  making  the  top  of  the  paraboloid  flat  instead  of  concave,  antl  in 
interposing  a  film  of  glycerin  between  its  surface  and  tho  under 
surface  of  the  glass  slide  carrying  the  object.  Only  rays  of  such 
extreme  obliquity  are  allowed  to  pass  into  the  slide  as  would  bo 
totally  reflected  from  its  under  surface  if  they  fell  upon  it  through 
air  ;  and,  as  these  illuminate  tlio  object  without  passing  into  tlie 
objective,  it  can  be  thus  examined  under  even  the  liigliest  powera. 

/BiKOCULAn    MiCKOSCOPES.  • 

Stereoscopic  Binoculars. — The  admirable  invention  of  the  stereo- 
scope by  Professor  AVhcatstonc  has  led  to  a  general  apjirecia-' 
tion  of  the  value  of  tlie  conjoint  use  of  both  eyes,  in  convoying  to 
tho  mind  a  concei)tion  of  the  solid  forms  of  objects  such  as  the 
uso  of  either  eye  singly  docs  not  generate  with  tho  like  certainty  or 
eflcctivencss  (see  SxtuEoscorK).  This  ronccjition  is  tho  product 
of  tho  mental  combination  of  the  dissimilar  ppi-spirtivc  projections 
which  our  right  and  left  rctiiuv  receive  of  any  object  that  is  suffi- 
ciently near  the  eyes  for  the  formation  of  two  im.igcs  that  are  sen- 
sibly dissimilar.  Kow  it  is  obvious  that  a  similar  diflcrenrc  must 
exist  between  the  two  perspective  jnojections  of  any  object  in  relief 
that  are  formed  by  the  right  and  left  halves  of  a  microscoiiic  ob- 
jective and  that  this  difl'crenoc  must  increase  with  the  angular 
aperture  of  tho  objective-  And  tho  fact  of  tliis  diflcrcncc  ni.-iy  be 
easily  made  ap}tarent  cxj>erinicntally,  by  adaptin^^  a  semicircular 
"stop"  to  any  objective  of  from  20"'  to  30"  auglo  in  such  a  manner 
that  it  can  be  turned  so  as  to  cover  cithx-r  its  right  or  its  left  half; 
for  not  only  will  the  two  images  of  any  projecting  object  formed  by 
the  rays  transmitted  through  the  two  uncovered  halves  be  found 
sensibly  difl'cicnt,  but,  if  they  be  ]'hotographed  or  accurately  drawn. 
tho  "pairing"  of  their  pictures  in  the  stereoscope  will  bring  out 
tho  form  of  the  object  in  vivid  i\-licf.  What  is  needed,  thereforc^to 
give  tlic  true  stereosropic  cOcvt  to  a  binocular  niicioefopo  is  a  means 
of  so  bibi-ctinj:  the  cone  of  rays  transmitti-d  by  tho  objective  that 
iti  two  hiteralhalvcs  shall  be  transmitted  the  one  to  tho  right  ami 
the  other  to  the  left  eye,  and  that  tlic  two  images  shall  be  crossed 
(tho  image  formed  by  the  right  half  of  the  ohirctivc  being  sent  lo  the 
left  eye,  and  that  fbrmcd  by  tlie  left  lialf  of  tlic  ob>ctivi'  Ik  iiifi  sent 
to  the  right  ere)  in  ordi-r  to  neutrali;;o  tho  rcvci-siii;;  cHcct  of  the 
niicroscoj.c  itself.  If  this  crossing  docs  not  take  place,  the  'effect 
will  bo  rendered  "pscudosropic."  not  "orthos.opic," — its  projec- 
tions becoming  depressions,  and  itsde]Uvssioiis  being  brought  out  as 
prominences.  It  was  from  a  want  of  due  ajqireciation  of  this  fact 
that  tlio  earlier  attempts  at  constructing  a  stereoscopic  binocular 
gave  representations  ot  objcvis  }tlaeed  under  it,  not  in  their  true 
orthoscopic,  but  in  their  pseudoscopic  as]>ect.  Tliis  .  was^  tho 
case,  lor  c:wmplcj  witlL-tU&'oinocuhu'-microscoDC  first..dcvi:»odU>^ 


MICROSCOPE 


273 


Professor  Hidden  of  Kew  Orleans  in  I8SI,  which  separated  the  cone 
•f  rays  by  a  pair  of  rectangular  pxisms  so  placed  edge  to  edge  above 
the  objective  that  the  rays  pacing  through  its  right  half  were 
refiected  horizontally  to  the  right  side,  to  be  changed  to  the  vertical 
direction  and  sent  to  the  right  eye  by  a  lateral  rectangular  pi-ism, 
while  the  rays  from  the  left  half  of  tlie  objective  were  sent  to  the 
left  eye  in  a  similar  manner.  Professor  Rlddell  describes  the 
"conversion  of  relief"  produced  by  this  arrangement  with  the 
ordinary  eye-piece  as  making  a  metail  spherule  appear  "as  a  glass 
boll  silvered  on  the  under  side,  and 
a  crystal  of  galena  like  an  empty 
box.  And  to  render  the  images 
4*  normal  and  natural "  he  found 
himself  obliged  to  use  erecting  eye- 
pieces, which  should  produce  a  second 
reversal  of  the  images  that  had  been 
reversed  in  their  first  formation.^ 
Subsequently,  however.  Professor 
Biddell  devised  and  perfected  another 
arrangement  giving  a  true  orthoscopic 
effect,  which,  after  being  long  disre- 
garded, has  been  latterly  taken  up 
and  brought  into  use  by  Mr  Stephen- 
eon.  The  cone  of  rays  passing  up- 
wards from  the  objective  meets  a 
pair  of  prisms  (A,  A  fig.  21)  fiied 
immediately  above  ita  back  lens, 
which  divides  it  into  two  halves ; 
each  of  these  is  subjected  to  internal 

reflexion  from  the  inner  side  of  the    

prism  through  which  it  passes;  and  _      „,      r,,,  ,,    t>-        , 
the  sUght  separation  of  the  two  prisms  ^'°-  ^'"^S  '  B""''^'" 
at  their  upper  end  gives  to  the  two 

pencils  B,  B,  on  their  emergence  from  the  npper  surfaces  of  the 
prisms,  a  divergence  which  directs  them  through  two  obliquely- 
placed  bodies  to  their  respective  eyepieces.  By  this  internal 
reflexion  a  lateral  reversal  is  produced,  which  neutralizes  that  of 
the  ordinary  microscopic  image,  so  that,  while  eaclx  eye  receives 
the  image  formed  by  its  own  half  of  the  objective,  the  pairing 
of  the  two  pictures  produces  a  true  orthoscopic  effect' 

About  the  same  date  MM.  Nachet  of  Paris  succeeded  in  devising  a 
binocular  that  should  give  a  true  orthoscopic  image,  by  placing  above 
the  object-glass  an  equiangular  prism  fP.  fig.  22)  with  one  of  Its  sur- 
faces paraUel  to  its  bacK  leus,  , 
which,  receiving  the  pencils  ab 
forming  the  right  half  of  the 
cone,  iutemally  reflects  them 
obliquelv  upwards  to  the  left, 
and  in  like  manner  reflects  the 
jiencils  a'b'  from  the  left  half  of 
the  cone  obliquely  upwards  to 
the  right.  These  pencils,  pass- 
ing out  of  the  left  and  right 
oblique  facea  of  the  prism  at 
right  angles  (so  as  not  to  undergo 
either  refraction  or  dispersion), 
enter  right  and  left  lateral 
prisma,  also  at  right  angles,  and, 
after  being  internally  reflected 
hy  these,  pass  out  verricilly,  ui 
right  angles  to  their  upper  sur 
fares,  through  two  parallel  bot.lies 
(fig.  23),  wiiose  eve-pieces  bring 
them  to  a  focus"  in  the  right  Flo.  2i— Nachct's  BinocuJar 
and  left  eyes  respectively.  The  Prisma. 
distance  between  these  bodies  may  be  adjusted  to  the  varying 
distances  between  the  axes  of  individual  paira  of  eyes,  by  adjust- 
ing screws  at  tlieir  base,  which  vary  the  distance  of  the  lateial 
prisms  from  the  cential.  Tliis  instrument  gives  a  theoretically 
Iterfcct  representation  of  a  microscopic  object  in  relief,  as  it  would 
appear  if  enlarged  to  the  size  of  its  image,  and  brou"ht  to  within 
about  10  inches  of  the  eye  ;  and  its  chief  practical  defect  is  that, 
as  the  two  bodies  are  parallel,  instead  of  being  slightly  converg- 
ent, it  cannot  be  continuously  used  without  an  uncomfortable 
strain.  But  as  its  performance  depends  upon  the  accuracy  of  the 
seven  plane  surfaces  of  the  three  prisms,  and  on  the  correctness  of 
their  relations  to  each  other,  it  is  liable  to  considerable  error  from 
inil>erfections  in  its  construction  ;  and,  as  the  instrument  can  only 
be  used  for  its  owu  special  purpose,  the  observer  must  bo  provided 
with  an  ordinary'  single-bodied  microscope  for  the  examination  of 
objects  unsuited  to  the  [owere  of  the  binocular.  This  last  objection 
^•pplies  also  to  Professor  Riddell's  model. 
,  It  was  for  these  reasons  that  Mr  Wcnham,  fully  impressed  with 
ihe  advantages  of  steiieoscopic  vision  to  the  microscopist,  set  himself 


(•'lo.  23. — Nachet's  Binocular 
Microscope. 


•  Sm  EitUman's  /ourmrf,  rol.  iv.,  1*53,  p.  CS ;   and  Quart.  Jour,  cf  Ulcroi. 
Bci..  vol.  L,  1863,  p.  J36. 
»  Quvl.  Jtur.  tf  Hunt.  Set.,  rcl  U.,  13M.  p.  li 


to  devise-a  construction  by  which  it  might  be  obtained  without  tlo 
drawbacks  inevitable  in  the  workingof  Kiddell's  and  Uachetfi  instru- 
ments; and  he  soon  succeeded  in  accomplishing  this  on  apian  which 
has  proved  not  only  convenient  but  practically  satisfactory,  notwith- 
standing its  theoretical  im- 
perfection. Only  the  right 
naif  of  the  cone  of  rays  pro- 
ceeding upwards  from  the 
right  hau  of  the  objective 
(a,  fig.  24)  is  intercepted  by 
a  pnsra  placed  immediately 
over  that  naif  of  its  back  lens, 
which,  by  two  internal  re- 
flexions (as  shown  in  fig.  25), 
sends  its  pencils  obliquely 
upwards  into  the  left-hand  or 
secondary  body  L,  whilst  the 
pencils  of  the  left  half-cone 
pass  uninterruptedly  into  the 
right-hand  body  R,  and  form 
an  image  that  suffers  no  other 
deterioration  than  that  which 
results  from  the  halving  of  the 
angular  apertuie  and  the  con- 
sequent loss  of  light  The 
moderate  convergence  of  the 
two  bodies  (which,  by  vaiying 
the  angles  of  the  prism,  may 
be  made  gi-eater  or  less,  so  as 
to  accord  with  the  ordinaiy 
convergence  of  the  optic  axes " 
in  the  individual  observer)  is  ' 
much  more  generally  suitable 
than  the  parallelism  of  MM. 
Nachet's  earlier  instrument; 
and  the  adjustment  requisite  for  variation  of  ^Ustauce  between  the 
eyes  can  be  made  by  simply  lengthening  or  shortening  the  bodies 
by  drawing  out  or  pushing  in  tbe  diverging  h 
eve-pieces. 

It  may  be  fairly  objected  to  Mr  Wenham's 
method  (1)  that,  as  the  rays  which  pass  , 
through  tbe  prism  aud  are  obliquely  reflected 
into  the  secondary  body  traverse  a  longer 
distance  tlian  those  which  pass  on  uninter- 
ruptedly into  the  principal  body,  the  image 
formed  by  them  will  be  somewhat  larger  than 
that  which  is  formed  by  the  other  set,  aud  (2) 
that  the  image  formed  by  the  rays  which  have 
been  subjected  to  the  action  of  the  prism  must 
be  inferior  in  distinctness  to  that  formed  by 
the  uninterrupted  half  of  the  cone  of  rays. 
But  these  objections  are  foimd  to  have  no 
practical  weight  For  it  is  well  known  to 
those  who  have  experimented  upon  the  phe- 
nomena of  stereoscopic  vision  (1)  that  a  slight 
difference  in  the  size  of  the  two  pictures  is  no 
bar  to  their  perfect  combination,  and  (2)  that, 
if  one  of  the  pictures  be  good,  the  full  effect 
of  relief  is  given  to  the  image,  even  though 
the  other  picture  be  faint  and  imperfect,  pro- 
vided tliat  the  outlines  of  the  latter  are  suffi.' 
ciently  distinct  to  represent  its  perspective 
projection.  Hence  if,  instead  of  the  tivo 
equally  half-good  pictures  which  are  obtain- 
able by  JIM.  Nachet's  original  constiuction, 
we  had  in  Jlr  Wenliam's  one  good  and  one  Fio.  24.— Wenhaiu"s 
indifferent  |.icture,  the  latter  would  be  de-  Stereoscopic  Ein- 
cidedly  preferable.  But,  in  point  of  fact,  the  ««="'»'■  Microscope, 
deterioration  of  the  second  picture  in  Mr  Wcnham's  aiTangement 
is  less  considerable  than  that  of  both  pictui-es  in  the  original 
arrangement  of  JIM.  Nachet ;  so  that  the  optical  performance  of 
the  Wenliam  binocular  is  in  every  way  superior.  It  has,  in  addi- 
tion, these  further  advantages  over  the  preceding : — first,  the 
greater  comfort  iu  using  it  (especially  for  some  length  of  time 
together)  which  resultji  from  the  convergence  of  the  axes  of  the 
eyes  at  their  usual  angle  for  moderately  near  objects ;  second,  that 
this  binocular  arranc;enient  does  not  necessitate  a  special  instrument; 
but  may  be  applied  to  any  microscope  which  is  capable  of  carry- 
ing the  weight  of  the  secondary  body,— the  prism  being  so  fixed 
iu  a  movable  frame  that  it  may  in  a  moment  be  taken  out  of 
the  tiilM  or  replaced  therein,  so  that  when  it  has  been  removed  the 
principal  body  acts  in  every  respect  as  an  ordinary  microscope, 
the  entire  cone  of  rays  passing  uninterruptedly  into  it ;  and,  thiitj, 
that  the  simplicity  of  its  constniction  renders  its  derangement 
almost  impossible.  Hence  it  is  the  one  most  generally  preferred 
by  microscopists  who  use  the  long-bodied  English  model. 
*  for  short-bodied  Coutinental  microscopes,  however,  MM.  Nachet 


274 


MICROSCOPE 


;'.avo  iloviaed  an  arranTCmom  of  two  prisms,  baseil  on  Mr  Wcnliam's 
'  iiiilanic:ital  iilca  of  ilcllccting  one  lialf  of  tlio  cono  of  rays  into  a 
icconilary  boily,  whilst  the  other  half  proceeds  onwards  withont 
change  of  direction  into  the  principal  body.  Ami  it  is  an  interest- 
ing fe.iture  in  tliis  construction  that,  by  a  siinnle  change  in  the 
liosilion  of  the  dividing  prism,  thc'true  "orthoscopic"  image  may  be 
inadc,  by  a  "  convoi-sion  of  relief,"  to  become  "  pseuiloscopic."  * 
-         -  -  '        '  ■    ■     d,  howev 


The  clfect  of  stc 


/imMis. 


Flo.  25.— Weill.; 


cuiar 


projection  may  bo  attained,  however, 
Trithout  a  double  body,  b"y  tlio  insertion  of  a  suitably  constructed 
Linocular  c^-c-picco  into  the  body 
of  any  ordinary  monocular  micro- 
Bcope.  A  plan  of  this  hind  was 
first  successfully  Ivorhcd  out  by 
JIrTollc3  (the  very  ablo  optician 
of  Boston,  United  States),  who 
ijitc-rposcd  a  system  of  prisma 
similar  to  tliat  devised  by  ilM 
Kadiut  (fi^,'.  22),  but  on  a  much 
larger  scale,  between  an  "erector" 
(roscnibliiiK  that  used  in  tho  eyo- 
piceo  of  a  day  telescope)  and  a  i>air 
of  ordinary  Huygenian  cyc-piccea, 
tlio  central  or  dividing  prism 
being  placed  at  or  near  tlie  jdano 
of  the  secondary  inia"o  formed  by 
the  erector,  while  tlio  two  eye- 
pieces are  jdaced  immediately  ^..^^ 
above  tlio  lateral  prisms, — the  ».-"•- 
combination  thus  making  that  division  in  the  pencils  forming  the 
secondary  (erected)  image  which  it  makes  in  the  Nachet  binocular 
in  the  pencils  emerging,  from  tho  objective. 

A  stereoscopic  eye-piece  of  a  very  difTereut  construction  has  been 
recently  devised  by  Professor  Abbe,  who,  making  use,  for  the 
Jivision  betWL-en  the  two  eye-pieces  of  tho  rays  going  to  form  the 
first  imago,  of  an  arrangement  of  prisms  essentially  similar  to  that 
devised  by  5Ir  Wenham  for  his  non-stereoscopic  binocular  (fig.  27), 
obtains  eitlur  an  orthoscopic  or  a  pseudoscopic  etTect  by  placing 
oil  each  cyu-piece  a  rap  with  a  semicircular  diaphragm,  so  as  to 
extinguish  half  of  each  of  the  cones  of  rays  that  form  tho  two 
n-tinal  images.  AVhilo  in  one  position  of  the  diaphragms  truo 
stereoscopic  or  orthoscopic  relief  is  given,  it  is  sufficient  to  turn 
the  diaphragms  into  the  opposite  position  to  obtain  a  pseudo- 
'scopic  convL'i-sion.^  It  apjiears,  however,  that  this  arrangement, 
though  possessing  points  of  gi-eat  interest  in  relation  to  the  theory 
of  binocular  vision,  is  not  likely  to  supei-scde  the  ordinary  Wenham 
prism. 

It  must  be  obvious  to  every  one  who  studies  with  sufficient 
ntteutiou  tho  conditions  under  which  true  stereoscopic  relief  can  be 
given  that  no  combination  of  two  dissimilar  retinal  perspectives 
can  bo  satisfactory  unless  the  visual  pictures  represent  with  tolerable 
distinctness  the  features  of  the  object  that  lie  in  dilferent  focal  planes. 
This  is  provided  for,  in  ordinary  vision,  by  the  power  of  accommo- 
dation possessed  by  the  eye,  which,  while  focussed  exactly  to  any 
one  jilanc,  can  also  inrludo  in  its  visual  picture  (within  certain 
limits)  what  is  either  nearer  or  more  remote.  Now  it  seems  prob- 
able that,  as  Professor  Abbe  has  urged,  this  power  of  accommoda- 
tion comes  into  play  in  microscopic  stereoscopy,  but  there  can  be 
no  question  that  the  visual  distinctness  of  the  parts  of  an  object 
lying  within  and  beyond  the  focal  plane,  and  tlierefore  the  com- 

Sletencss  of  tho  stereoscopic  image,  mainly  depends  upon  the  "focal 
epth  "  of  tho  objective  employed,— which,  as  alrcaify  explained,  is 
a  function  of  its  angular  aperture.  \Vlien,  however,  objectives  of  long 
focus  and  small  aperture  are  employed  in  binocular  microscopy, 
although  each  of  the  two  perspective  projections  may  be  fairly 
distinct  throughout,  tho  efToct  of  solid  relief  will  be  very  incon- 
siderable, because  the  pictures  are  not  gufficiontly  dissimilar  to  one 
anotlier, — the  case  being  exactly  analogous  to  titat  of  tho  stereo- 
scopic combination  of  two  photographic  portraits  taken  at  an  angle 
of  no  more  than  a  few  degrees  from  each  other.  Still,  with  an 
objective  of  1^  inches  focus  and  an  angular  aperture  of  from  15°  to 
20",  a  very  distinct  separation  is  made  of  tlic  focal  planes  of  trans- 
parent sections  of  structures  having  no  great  minuteness  of  detail, 
— such,  especially,  as  injected  prepai-ations, — tho  solid  forms  of 
their  capillary  networks  being  presented  to  tho  mind's  eye  witli  a 
.vividness  that  no  monocular  representation  of  them  can  afford. 
["VNMien  a  1  inch  objective  of  20°  or  25°  is  used,  the  stereoscopic  effect 
becomes  much  more  satisfactory  ;  so  that  objects  of  moderate  pro- 
jection (s\ich  as  many  of  tho  siliceous  Pohjci/stina,  Diatomaccre^ 
i;c.  )can  bo  seen  in  nearly  their  natural  projection,  and,  if  the  focal 
adjustment  is  made  for  a  medium  plane,  with  tolerable  distinctness 
iboth  of  their  nearer  and  remoter  parts.  With  a  3  i'i<^h  of  30°  or 
'35°,  the  stereoscopic  relief  becomes  more  pronounced  ;  but  the 
idiminution  of  the  focal  depth  prevents  tho  several  planes  of  objects 
ixn  strong  relief  from  being  as  distinctly  seen  at  tho  same  time.     A 


\  inch  objective  of  abotit  40*  of  aportnre,  however,  affords  the  most 
satisfactory  results  with  suitable  objects, — full  stereoscopic  relie/ 
being  gained  \\'ithout  exaggeration,  so  as  to  present,  e.g.,  the 
discoidal  diatoms  and  the  smaller  Polycystina  in  their  true  forms, 
whilst  their  nearer  and  more  remote  parts  are  seen  with  sufficient 
distinctness  to  require  only  a  very  slight  adjustment  of  the  focua 
for  their  perfect  definition.  Still  more  minute  objects  may  be  welt 
shown  by  j^ths  and  jth  objectives  whose  angular  aperture  does 
not  exceed  50°  ;  but  it  can  be  shown  both  theoretically  and 
practically  '  tliat  the  dissimilarity  of  the  two  perspective  projections 
of  objects  in  relief  formed  by  objectives  of  any  angle  much  exceed- 
ing 40'  is  such  as  to  exaggerate  the  stereoscopic  effect ;  besides 
wliich,  every  enlargement  of  angular  aperture  so  gi-catly  diminishes 
the  focal  depth  of  tho  objectires  that  only  those  parts  of  the  objects 
which  lie  very  near  the  focal  piano  can  bo  seen  with  distinctness 
sufficient  for  the  formation  of  a  good  stereoscopic  image.  Henco, 
for  the  purposes  of  minute  histological  research,  the  stereoscopic 
binocular  is  (in  the  present  writer's  opinion)  almost  valueless  ; 
since,  if  any  distinct  perspective  differentiation  can  be  gained  with 
objectives  of  the  short  focus  and  enlarged  angle  that  are  n\Q^, 
suitable  to  such  investigations,  that  differeutiatiou  will  be  so  great 
as  to  produce  a  highly  exaggerated  stereoscopic  effect  If  such 
objectives  be  used  binocularly  at  all,  they  must  be  so  mounted  that 
their  back  lenses  are  in  very  close  proximity  to  the  prism  ;  and  the 
(transparent)  object  must  be  illuminated  by  an  achromatic  condenser 
of  sufficient  aperture  to  send  through  it  pencib  of  sufficient  diver- 
gence to  produce  the  secondary  image. 

In  regard  to  the  advantage  derived  from  the  use  of  the  stereo- 
scopic binocular,  witli  tho  powers,  and  upon  tho  objects,  suitable  to 
produce  the  true  etfect  of  solid  form,  tho  writer  can  unhesitat- 
ingly assert,  as  the  result  of  a  long  and  varied  experience,  that 
in  no  other  way  could  he  as  certainly  or  as  vividly  image  those 
forms  to  himself,  and  that  in  prolonged  work  upon  such  subjects 
he  is  conscious  of  a  great  saving  of  fatigue,  which  seems  attributable 
not  merely  (perhaps  not  so  much)  to  the  conjoint  use  of  both  eyea 
as  to  tho  absence  of  the  mental  effort  required  for  the  interpretation 
of  the  microscopic  picture,  when  the  solid  form  of  the  object  has  to 
bo  ideally  consti-uctcd  from  it  (chiefly  by  means  of  the  information 
obtainable  through  the  focal  adjustment),  instead  of  being  directly 
presented  to  the  mind's  eye.* 

Non-Sicrcosco^nc  Binoculars. — The  great  comfort  which  is  experi- 
enced by  tho  microscopist  in  the  conjoint  use  of  both  eyes  has  led 
to  the  invention  of  more  than  one  avrangement  by  which  this  can 
bo  secured  when  those  high  powers  aro  required  which  cannot  be 
employed  with  the  ordinary  stereoscopic  binocular. 
This  is  accomplished  by  Messrs  Powell  and  Lea- 
laud  by  taking  advantage  of  the  fact  that,  when  a 
pencil  of  rays  falls  obliquely  upon  the  surface  o| 
a  refracting  medium,  a  part  of  it  is  reflected  with- 
out entering  that  medium  at  all.  In  the  place 
usually  occupied  by  the  Wenham  prism  they 
interpose  an  inclined  plate  of  glass  with  parallel 
sides,  through  which  one  portion  of  the  rays  pro- 
ceeding upwards  from  the  whole  aperture  of  the 
objective  passes  into  the  principal  body  with  very 
little  change  in  its  course,  whilst  another  portion 
is  reflected  from  its  surface  into  a  rectangular 
prism  so  placed  as  to  direct  it  obliquely  upwards 
into  tho  secondary  body  (fig.  26).  Although 
there  is  a  decided  difference  in  brightness  between 
tho  two  images,  that  formed  by  the  reflected  rays 
being  the  fainter,  yet  there  is  niar\'ellously  little 
loss  of  definition  in  either,  even  when  the  ,',  inch 
objective  is  used.     Tho  disk  and  prism  aro  fixed  * '°   ""' 

in  a  short  tube,  which  can  be  readily  substituted  in  any  ordinary 
binocular  microscope  for  the  one  containing  tho  Wenham  prism. 

Other  arrangements  were  devised  long  ago  by  Mr  Wenham,'  with 
a  view  to  obtain  a  greater  equality  in  the  amount  of  light-rays  form- 
ing the  iwo  pictures  ;  and  he  has  latterly 
carried  one  of  these  into  practical  effect, 
with  the  advantage  that  tho  compound 
prism  of  which  it  consists  has  so  nearly 
the  same  shape  and  size  as  his  ordinary 
stereoscopic  prism  as  to  be  capable  of 
being  mounted  in  precisely  the  same 
manner,  so  that  tho  one  may  bo  readily 
excliangcd  for  tho  other.  The  axial  ray  a, 
proceeding  upwards  from  the  objective, 
enters    tho    prism    ABDEF  (fig.  27)   at  p.     07 

right  angles  to  its  lower  face,  and  passes 

on  to  c,  where  it  meets  tho  inclined  face  AB,  at  which  this  prism' 
is   nearly  in  contact  with  the   oblique   face   of  the  right-angled 


»  See   Tram,  of  Iloy.  Micros.  Soc,  N.  S.,  vol.  xt.,  18C7.  p.  105 ;  and  Monthly 
[Bln-oi.  Jour.,  vol.  I.,  1300,  p.  CI. 

*  SCO  Jour.  (t/Rov-  Micro*.  Soc.,  2d  sot.,  vol.  !..  1881,  p.  208. 


»  See  The  Miei-oseope  and  its  Rrrefationi,  Cth  cd..  pp.  42-^4.  - 

♦  Avery  clabomte  InvpsllRntlon,  by  Prolcssor  Abbe,  "On  the  Conditions  m 
Oilhoscopic  onil  I'scudosrorlc  Effects  In  tho  Binocular  Mlcroscop«,"  *U1  bo  (oual 
In  tlio  Jour,  of  tfie  Roy.  Micros.  Soc.,  2d  iter.,  vol.  I..  ISSI.  p.  203. 
ft  Traruaetioru  nftht  Micpvs,  Soe.,  N.  S.,  vol.  xiv.,  I860,  p.  103. 


MICROSCOPE 


275 


Tcism  ABC.  By  internal  reflexion  from  the  former  and  ext€mal 
reflexion  from  the  latter  about  half  the  beam  b  is  reflected  within 
the-  first  prism  in  the  direction  cb,  while  the  other  half  proceeds 
straight  onwards  through  the  second  pnsra,  in  the  direction  ca\ 
«o  as  to  pass  into  thtf  principal  body.  The  reflected  half,  meeting 
■t  d  the  oblique  (silvered)  surface  DE  of  the  first  prism,  is  again 
reflected  in  the  direction  db'^  and,  passing  out  of  that  prism  per- 
pendicularly to  it3  surface  AF,  proceeds  towards  the  secondary 
body.  The  two  prisms  must  not  be  in  absolute  contact  along  the 
plane  AB,  since,  if  they  were,  Newton's  rings  would  be  formed  ; 
and  much  nicety  is  required  in  their  adjustment,  so  that  the  tuo 
reflexions  may  be  combined  without  any  blurring  of  the  image  in 
the  secondary  body. 

For  the  prolonged  observation,  under  high  powers,  of  objects  not 
requiring  the  extreme  of  perfection  in  definition,  — such,  for  example, 
as  the  study  of  the  cyclosis  in  plants, — great  advantage  is  gained 
from  tlie  conjoint  use  of  both  eyes  by  one  of  the  above  arrangements. 

Mechanical  Construction  of  the  Microscoi-e. 

The  optical  arrangements  on  which  the  working  of  the  compound 
achromatic  microscope  depends  having  now  been  explained,  we  have 
next  to  consider  the  mechanical  provisions  whereby  they  are  brought 
to  bear  upon  the  different  purposes  which  the  iustrumeut  is  destined 
to  serve.  Every  complete  microscope  must  possess,  in  addition  to  tlie 
lens  or  combination  of  lenses  which  affords  its  magnifying  power,  a 
stage  whereon  the  object  may  securely  rest,  a  concave  mirror  for  the 
illumination  of  ti'ansparent  objects  from  beneath,  and  a  coudeusing- 
lena  for  the  illumination  of  opaque  objects  from  above. 

1.  Now,  iu  whatever  mode  these  may  be  connected  with  each 
other,  it  is  essential  that  the  optical  part  and  the  stage  should  be 
80  disposed  as  either  to  be  altogether  free  from  tendency  to  vibra- 
tion or  to  vibrate  together  ;  since  it  is  obvious  that  auy  movement 
of  one,  in  which  the  otlier  does  not  partake,  ^vill  be  augmented  to 
the  eye  of  the  observer  in  proportion  to  tho  magnifying  power 
employed.  In  a  badly-constructed  instrument,  even  though  placed 
upon  a  steady  table  resting  upon  the  firm  floor  of  a  well-built  house, 
wneu  hi^'h  powers  are  used,  the  obiect  is  seen  to  oscillate  so  rapidly 
at  tlie  slightest  tremor — such  as  that  caused  by  a  person  walking 
across  the  room,  or  by  a  carriage  rolling  by  in  the  street — as  to  be 
frequently  almost  indistinguishable  ;  whereas  in  a  well -constructed 
instrument  scarcely  any  iieiccptible  effect  will  be  produced  by  even 
greater  disturbances.  Hence,  in' the  choice  of  a  microscope,  it 
should  always  be  subjected  to  this  test,  and  should  be  unhesitatingly 
rejected  if  the  result  be  unfavourable.  If  the  instrument  should  be 
found  free  from  fault  when  thus  tested  with  high  powers,  its 
stcadines  with  low  powers  may  be  assumed  ;  but,  on  the  other 
hand,  though  a  microscope  may  give  an  ima^e  free  from  perceptible 
tremor  when  the  lower  powera  only  are  emmoyed,  it  may  be  ijuite 
unfit  for  use  with  the  higher.  The  method  still  adopted  by  some 
makers,  of  aupiiorting  the  body  by  its  base  alone,  is  tho  worst 
possible,  especially  for  the  long  body  of  the  large  English  model, 
since  any  vibration  of  its  lower  part  is  exa^^gerated  at  its  ocular  end. 
The  firmer  the  support  of  the  body  along  its  length  the  less  tremor 
will  be  seen  in  the  microscopic  image, 

2.  The  next  requisite  is  a  cai>ability  of  accurate  adjustment  to 
every*variety  of  focal  distance,  without  movement  of  the  object.  It 
is  a  principle  universally  recognized  in  the  construction  of  good 
microscopes  that  the  sta^e  whereon  tlie  object  is  placed  sliould  be 
a  fixture,  the  movement  by  which  the  focus  is  to  be  adjusted  being 
given  to  the  optical  portion.  This  movement  should  be  such  as  to 
allow  free  range  from  a  minute  fraction  of  an  inch  to  three  or  four 
inches,  with  eaual  power  of  obtaining  a  delicate  adjustment  at  any 
part.  It  should  also  be  so  accurate  that  the  optic  axis  of  the  iu- 
sti'ument  should  not  be  in  the  least  altered  by  any  movement  in  a 
Tcrtical  direction,  so  that,  if  an  object  be  brought  into  the  centre  of 
the  flcld  with  a  low  power,  and  a  higher  power  be  then  substituted, 
the  object  should  be  found  in  the  centre  of  it*,  field,  notwitlistand- 
ing  the  great  alteiution  in  the  focus.  In  this  way  much  time  may 
often  be  saved  by  employing  a  low  power  as  a  "finder"  for  an  object  to 
be  examined  by  a  higher  one  ;  and  when  an  object  is  being  viewed 
by  a  succession  of  powers  little  or  no  readjustment  of  its  place  on 
the  sta^  should  be  required.  A  rack-and-piuion  adjustment,  if  it 
be  made  to  work  both  tightly  and  smoothly,  answera  sufficiently 
well  for  the  focal  adjustment,  when  objectives  of  low  power  only  are 
en»ployed.  But  for  any  lenses  whose  focus  is  less  than  half  au  inch 
a  "  fine  adjustment," or  "slow  motion,"  by  means  of  ascrew-move- 
Snent  ojierating  either  on  the  object-glass  alone  or  on  the  entire  body 
(preferably  on  the  latter),  is  of  great  value  ;  and  for  the  highest 
)K)wer8  it  is  ouite  indispensable.  It  is  essential  that  in  this  motion 
Ihere  should  be  no  "lost  time,"  and  that  its  working  should  not 
produce  any  "  twist "  or  displacement  of  the  image.  In  some  niicro- 
eco^  which  are  provided  with  a  fine  adjustment  tlie  rack-and- 
pinion  movement  is  dispensed  with,  the  "coarse  adjustment "  being 
given  by  merely  sliding  the  body  up  and  down  in  the  socket  which 
grasps  It ;  but  this  plan  is  only  admissible  where,  for  the  sake  of 
extreme  cheapness  or  portability,  the  instrument  has  to  be  reduced 
to  *^c  form  of  utmost  simpUcity,  as  iu  Hgs.  28.  29. 


3.  Scarcely  lees  important  than  the  preceding  requisite,  in  thfl 
case  of  the  compound  microscope,  especially  with  the  long  body  of 
the  ordinary  English  model,  is  the  capability  of  being  placed  in  either 
a  vertical  or  a  horizontal  position,  or  at  an*  angle  with  the  horizon, 
without  deranging  the  adjuBtment  of  its  parts  to  each  oth^r,  and 
without  placing  the  eye-piece  "in  such  a  position  as  to  be  incon- 
venient to  the  observer.  It  is  certainly  a  matter  of  surprise  that 
some  microscopists,  especially  on  the  Continent,  should  still  foreg; 
the  advantages  of  the  inclined  position,  these  being  attainable  by  a 
very  small  addition  to  the  cost  of  the  instrument ;  but  the  incon- 
venience of  the  vertical  arrangement  is  much  less  when  the  body 
of  tlie  microscope  is  short,  as  in  the  ordinary  Continental  model ; 
and  there  are  many  cases  in  which  it  is  absolutely  necessary  that 
the  stage  should  be  hoiizontal.  This  position,  however,  can  at  any 
time  be  given  to  the  stage  of  the  inclining  microscope,  by  bringing 
the  optic  axis  of  the  instrument  into  the  vertical  direction.  In 
ordinary  cases,  an  inclination  of  the  body  at  an  angle  of  about  55* 
to  the  "horizon  will  usually  be  found  most  convenient  for  uncon- 
strained obser\'ation  ;  and  the  instrument  should  be  so  constructed 
as,  when  thus  inclined,  to  give  to  the  stage  such  an  elevation  above 
the  table  that,  when  the  hands  are  employed  at  it,  the  arms  may 
rest  conveniently  upon  the  table.  In  this  manner  a  degree  of 
support  is  attained  which  gives  such  free  play  to  the  muscles  of  the 
hands  that  movements  of  the  greatest  nicety  may  be  executed  by 
them,  and  the  fatigue  of  long-continued  observation  is  gi-eatly 
diminished.  When  the  ordinary  camera  lucida*  is  used  for  diawing 
or  measuring,  it  is  requisite  that  the  microscope  should  be  placed 
horizontally.  It  ought,  therefore,  to  be  made  capable  of  every  such 
variety  of  position  ;  and  the  stage  must  of  course  be  provided  with 
some  means  of  holding  the  object,  whenever  it  is  itself  placed  in 
such  a  position  that  the  object  would  slip  down  unless  sustained 

4.  The  last  principle  on  which  we  shall  here  dwell,  as  essential 
to  the  value  of  a  microscope  designed  for  ordinary  work,  is  simpli- 
city in  the  construction  and  adjustment  of  every  part.  Many  in- 
genious mechanical  devices  have  been  invented  and  executed  for 
the  purpose  of  overcoming  difficulties  which  are  in  themselves  really 
trivial.  A  moderate  amount  of  dexterity  in  the  use  of  the  hands  ia 
sufficient  to  render  most  of  these  superfluous  ;  and  without  such 
dexterity  no  one,  even  with  the  most  complete  mechanical  facilities, 
will  ever  become  a  good  microscopist.  There  is,  of  course,  a  limit 
to  this  simplification  ;  and  no  arrangement  can  be  objected  to  on 
this  score  wnicli  gives  advantages  in  the  examination  of  difficult 
objects,  or  in  the  detenninatiou  of  doubtful  questions,  such  as  no 
simpler  means  can  afford.  The  meaning  of  this  distinction  will 
become  apparent  if  it  be  applied  to  the  cases  of  the  mechanical 
stage  and  tlie  achromatic  condenser.  For,  although  the  mechanical 
stage  may  be  considered  a  valuable  aid  in  observation,  as  facilitating 
the  finding  of  a  minute  object,  or  tlie  examination  of  the  entire 
surface  of  a  large  one,  yet  it  adds  nothing  to  the  clearness  of  our 
view  of  either  ;  and  its  place  may  in  great  degree  be  supplied  by  the 
fingers  of  a  good  manipulator.  On  the  other  hand,  the  use  of  the 
achromatic  condenser  not  only  contributes  very  materially,  but  is 
absolutely  indispensable,  to  the  formation  of  a  perfect  image,  in  the 
case  of  many  objects  of  a  difficult  class  ;  the  want  of  it  cannot  be 
compensated  by  the  most  dexterous  use  of  the  ordinary  appliances  ; 
and  consequently,  althouc^h  it  may  fairly  be  considered  supei-fluous 
as  regards  a  lar^^e  proportion  of  the  purposes  to  which  the  micro- 
scope is  directed,  whether  for  investigation  or  for  display,  yet  as 
regards  the  paiticular  objects  just  alluded  to  it  is  a  no  less  necessary 
part  of  the  instrument  than  the  achromatic  objective  itself. 

As  a  tj'pical  example  of  the  simplest  form  of  compound  micro- 
scope that  is  suitable  for  scientific  research, — which,  with  various 
modifications  of  detail,  is  the  one  generally  employed  on  the  Con- 
tinent,— the  Microscope  de  dissection  ci  d'obsei~vation  (fig.  28)  of  11. 
Nachet,  es|)ecially  as  constructed  for  portability  (figs.  29-31),  seems 
particularly  worthy  of  description.  In  its  vertical  fonn  (fig.  28)  the 
solid  foot  to  which  the  mirror  is  pivoted  gives  support  to  the 
pillar  F,  to  the  top  of  which  the  stage  P,  having  a  dianhragm-plato 
neneath  it,  is  firnily  attached.  On  the  top  of  tliis  pillar  the  tubu- 
lar stem  A  is  fitted  in  such  a  manner  that  it  may  be  removed  by 
unscrewing  the  large  milled  head  L, — though,  when  this  is  well 
screwed  down,  the  stem  stands  quite  firnily.  This  stem  beai"s  at 
its  summit  a  short  horizontal  arm,  which  carries  a  strong  vertical 
tube  that  firaily  grasps  the  "body"  of  the  microscope,  while  per- 
mitting this  to  be  easily  slid  upwards  or  downwards,  so  as  to  make 
a  "coarse  adjustment"  of  ^he  focus.  The  "  fine  adjustment"  is 
made  by  turning  the  milled  head  V,  which  either  presses  down  tho 
outei  tube  of  the  stem,  or  allows  it  to  be  raised  by  the  upward  pres- 
sure of  a  strong  Apiral  spring  in  its  interior.  By  unscrewing  iho 
milled  head  L,  the  stem  A  with  its  arm  and  compound  body  can  be 
detached  from  the  pillar  ;  and,  a  small  li^ht  arm  H  holding  cither 
aiiigle  lenses  or  doublets  being  slid  into  this,  a  convenient  dissecting 
microscope  is  thus  proHded.  The  only  drawback  in  the  construc- 
tion of  this  simple  model  is  its  not  being  provided  with  a  joint  for 


276 


MICROSCOPE 


tlie  inclinaHon  of  fho  bmly ;  but  this  is  introdncetl  into  the  port 
able  form  of  the  iustninient  shown  in  fig.  29,  tlic  basal  i>ortion  of 
which  (fi^.  SO)  can  be  uscil,  like  thnt  of  the  preceding  nioilcl,  as  a 
eimple  microscope,  and,  by  a  most  ingenions  construction,  can  be 
80  folded  as  to  ho  flat  in  a  shallow  case  (fig.  31)  that  holds  also  tho 
upper  part  with  tlie  objectives  of  both  the  simple  arm  and  the  com- 


Fio.  23. — Nacbet's  Combined  Sbnple  and  Compound  Microscope. 

£onnd  body.  M.  IKachet  now  connects  his  objectives  uilh  tho 
odv  of  his  microscopes,  not  by  a  screw,  but  by  a  cylindncal  fitting 
held  in  place  by  the  pressure  of  a  siuing-dip  against  a  projecting 
^houldcr.  This  mcthotl  not  only  allows  one  objoctivo  to  be  re- 
moved and  replaced  by  another  much  more  readily  than  does  the 
acrcw-fittiug,  but  also  rcudei-s  the  centring  of  diliercnt  objectives 
more  exactly  cou- 
ibnnable.  It  may 
be  safclv  aftinncd 
that  a  very  largo 
proportion  of  tlio 
uiicroscojiic  work 
of  tlie  lasr  half- 
continy,  which  has 
given  an  eiftircly 
new  aspect  to  bio- 
logical science,  has 
been  done  by  in- 
stmmcnts  of  this 
siiiiplcCoutiuental 
ty,H. 

A  larger  model,' 
liowever,  was  from 
the  fii-st  adopted 
by  English  opti- 
cians; and,  as  a 
t\-picnl  example  of 
the  general  jdan 
of  construction 
now  most  followed 
both  in  England 
and  in  the  United 
Stat.'s,  the  imr 
provcvi  Jackson- 
Zontmavcj-  micro- _      „^      »-    ,     »  „ 

scoiw  of  Messrs  '^'^-  ""•— ^f»chet  s  Portable  Compound  Slicroscope. 
Kos^(tig.  3'2)  may  be  appropriately  selected.  The  trii«id  baM'  of 
thi-*  instrument  carries  two  pillars,  bctwirn  which  is  swung  uiKin  a 
hnrizontal  axis  icapable  of  being  fixed  in  any  i>osition  by  a  tighten- 
ing screw)  a  solid  "limb,"  wit^i  wliirh  all  tlie  other  parts  of  the 
inHtrnnient  aiv  connected, — aplanof  cousrniction  originally  deviled 
by  Mr  Ocorgo  Jackson.  The  binocular  body,  haviu"  at  its  lower  end 
ta-(  in  tig.  24)  an  onening  into  which  citlic'r  of  tlie  \\Vnhnm  yrmm 
can  be  inserted,  and  at  its  top  a  rack  movtinent  for  ailjustuig  the  eye- 


pieces to  the  distance  between  the  erea  of  the  observer,  is  attached 
to  a  racked  slide,  which  is  so  acted  on  bv  the  large  doublo  nulled 


Fio,  30, — Nacliet's  Portable  Dissecting  Microscope;  on  the  left  as  set 
up  for  use,  on  the  right  as  having  the  stage  P  turned  back  ujjou  the 
joint  O,  so  as  to  lie  Hut  on  the  bottom  of  the  case. 

head^  ift  tho  njipcr  part  of  the  limb  as  to  give  a  "  quick  '*  upward  or 
downward  motion  to  tlio  bodv;  while  the  "slow"  motion,  or  fine 


Fig.  31. — Xacbet's  Portable  Conipound  and  Dissecting  Mirrosccp  . 
as  packvtl  in  ca.ic 

adjustment,  is  given  by  means  of  the  vertical  micrometer  ^^tcw  at 

tho  back  of  the  Hmb.  wliich  raises  or  lowei-s  a  second  «Udc  bcUud  lU*. 

rack.*    Tlie  stage  is 

supported     ui>on     a 

firm  ring,   which  is 

immovably       fixed, 

not  to  the  lind>.  but 

to  a  strong   conical 

]nvot    which    p^-^^. 

through  the  limb,  to 

be    clampvd    by    a 

screw-nut      at      ir>* 

bnck, — the    jmrprt^Lo 

ofthisbeingtoallow 

the  whole  stage  to  Ihj 

inclined  to  one  side 

or  the  other  at  any 

angle,  so  that  a  solid 

object  maybe  newod 

Rideways     or     Ironi 

bi.'low,     as     well     as 

I'lom  above.      l'i>oii 

this   ring  the  stage 

rotates  horizontally, 

its    anc;nlar    move- 

meuf     I'cing     mca- 

^urcdbvagl■aduatc.l 

scale  and  vernier  at 

ita  edge  :  aii.l  il  can 

W  fixed  in  anyazi 

ninth  by  nelaininng- 

sci-ewhcncath.  Kect- 

angular     movement  /jj 

is     given      to     the 

traversing   plarform 

which  carries  The  ob-  Kic.  32.-  Ko 

ioct   by   two   milled  PI.cro^.oiH,-. 

heads  on  the  right  of  tin-  stage,  th<^  whole  construetinn  of  wlticli  u 

adapted  to  allow  light  ol  extreme  o'iiJi.|niry  to  W  ihi^wn  niKni  ihe 

object  from  beneath.     On  tin.- strong  pivot  by  which  the  Mage  is. 

'  mnkcr«  tlie  fino 


vcr  (  onnonrd 


t  In  tho  oilier  form  of    rnnslnirllMi  frill  jYtnloiil 
n4)4srmciit  aci«  Uiivi.il>  on  llie  objvcilte.  itu-  it  rii-  i 
u)!  mill  duwn  witiiin  ilu-  ^o^c  of  I'uc  hody  ;  bin  thU  |>i. 


(.-UJ.J  \<ltli  luaiijr 


MI'CROSCOPE 


277 


attached  to  the  limb  (the  axis  of  which  passes  through  the  point  at 
xthkh  the  object-plane  is  intersected  oy  the  optic  axis   of   the 
body)  is  hung  the  swinging  tail-piecd  invented  by  Mr  Zentmayer  of 
Philadelpliia,  which,  carrying  the  whole  illuminating  apparatus, 
may  be  so  set  as  to  ^ive  to  the  axis  of  the  illuminating  pencil  any 
required  degree  of  ooliquity.     To  the  upper  part  of  it  is  attached 
a  rack-and-pinion  moTeinent  carrying  the    "substage,"  which  is 
provided    with    two   railled-headed  screws    for   centiing   it   pre- 
cisely with   the  raicrosco]>e-body.      Into   this  may  bo  fitted   the  j 
achromatic  condenser,  parabolic  illuminator,  polarizing  prism,  or  } 
any  other  kind  of  illuminating  apparatus  ;  whilst  at  its  lower  end  i 
it  carries  the  mirror,  the  position  of  which  may  be  varied  by  sliding  ! 
its  fitting  up  or  down  the  **  tail-piece,"  or  by  turning  the  arm  { 
which  canies  it  to  one  side  or  the  other  ;  while,  if  direct  illumina- 
tion from  a  lamp  should  be  preferred,  it  may  be  turned  altogether 
aside.     By  swinging  the  tail  piece  round  above  the  stage,  oolique 
light  may  be  reflected  from  the  mirror,  through  the  condenser,  upon  ' 
the  upper  surfaces  of  objects.     The  condenser  usually  fitted  to  j 
this  instrument  is  ">f  about  iV  i»cli  focus,  with  a  largo  back  lens  ;  | 
behind  whicli  are  placed  an  iris-diaphragm  for  reducing  the  light 
to  the  central  rays,  and  a  diaphragm-plate  with  apertures  of  the 
various  forms  moet  suited  for  the  resolution  of  lined  objects  by 
oHiquo  rays. 

No  instrumcut,  in  tha  writer's  judgment,  is  better  adapted  than 
this  for  the  highest  purposes  of  microscopical  research.  It  works 
admirably  with  ovoTy  power  from  the  lowest  to  the  highest,  and  is 
capable  of  receiving  any  one  of  the  numerous  pieces  of  apparatus 
which  liave  been  devised  for  special  researches  of  various  kinds. 
The  iletailcd  description  of  these  not  being  here  admissible,  it  will 
bo  sulficieut  to  indicate  the  polariscope  and  the  spectroscope  as  the 
most  important  of  these  accessoiies. 

MicROinrmv^ 

The  micruscopist  has  constant  need  of  some  means  of  taking  exact 
nicesvii-ements  of  the  dimensions  of  the  minute  objects,  or  parts  of 
objects,  on  the  study  of  which  he  is  en^ngi-d;  and  the  accuracy  of 
the  operation  will  of  couree  be  proportioned  to  the  correctness  of 
the  standard  used,  and  the  care  with  which  it  is  applied. 

The  instruments  employed  in  microscopic  micrometry  are  of  two 
kinds,  the  measurement  bein^  taken  in  one  by  the  rotation  of  a 
fine  screw  with  n  divided  mified  head,  whilst  in  the  other  a  slip 
of  glass  ruled  with  lines  at  fixed  distances  gives  a  scale  which  forms 
R  basis  of  computation.  Each  of  these  has  its  advantages  and  tts 
disadvantages. 

The  stage- micrometer  constructed  by  Frauenhofer  was  formerly 
much  used  by  Continental  microscopists,  and  has  the  advantage  of 
inJicating  the  actual  dimensions  of  tl»e  objects  to  be  measured; 
but  it  has  tho  two  special  disadvantages  that  a  sufficiently  small 
value  cannot  be  conveniently  given  to  its  divisions,  and  that  any  " 
error  in  its  construction  and  working  is  augmented  by  the  whole 
magnifying  power  employed.  This  instnimcnt  has  now,  however, 
almost  entirely  given  place  to  one  of  those  to  be  next  described. 

The  screw-micrometer  ordinarily  used  in  astronomical  measure- 
ments (see«Micr.OMETER)  can  be  adnptiil  to  the  cyc-piecc  of  the  j 
microsco^w  in  a  manner  essentially  the  same  as  that  in  wliich  it  is  / 
applied  to  tlte  telescope, — its  two  parallel  threads — of  which  one  is-j 
fixed  and  the  other  ma.le  to  approach  towards  or  recede  from  tliis  I 
by  the  turning  of  the  scrcw-^-being  placed  in  the  focus  of  the  eye-  1 
glass,  and  being  tlicrefore  seen  as  lines  crossing  its  field  of  view.  | 
The  object  is  so  focusscd  that  its  ima^e  is  formed  in  the  same  plane ;  I 
and,  the  latter  being  brought  into  such  a  position  that  one  of  its  ends  I 
or  margins  lies  in  optical  contact  with  tlic  fixed  line,  the  screw  is  I 
turnctl  so  as  to  bring  the  movable  line  into  the  like  coincidence  j 
with'  the  other.    But  the  distance  between  the  lines,  as  given  by  the  ! 
number  of  divisions  of  the  micrometer,  will  hei-c  be  the  measure- 
ment, not  of  the  object  itself,  but  of  its  magnilied  image  ;  and  the  t 
v.Muje  of  these  divisions,  tlicrefore,  will  dci>end  niwn  the  amplifica- 
tion given  by  tho  particular  objective  used.     Thus,  snpi>osc  each  i 
division  of  the  micrometer  to  have  an  actual  value  of  rTijnjth  of  an 
inch,  and  tho  visual  image  to  have  one  hundred  times  the  linear 
dimensions  of  the  object,  the  theoretical  micromctric  value  of  each  I 
division  would  be  y^th  of  xsiirsth,  or  one-millionth,  of  an  inch, — 
a  degree  of  minuteness,  however,  not  practically  attainable.     It  is  I 
necessary,  moreover,  to  determine   the  micronu-tric  value  of  the  j 
divisions  of  the  micrometer,  not  only  for  every  objective,  but  foe  J 
variations  in  the  conditions  under  which  that  objective  may  be  i 
employed,  as  reganls  the  length  of  tho  tube  or  "body'*  of  the  i 
mit-roscope,  whicii  is  varictl  not  only  by  tlie  draw-tube,  .but  also,  j 
in  many  rases,   in   the  working  of  the  fine  adjustment  or  .slow  i 
frtotion,  and  also,  in  tho  case  of  tho  largo-angled  powers  furnished 
tvith  adjustment  for  thicknesa.or  the  covering-glass,  for  the  degree  i 
of  separation  of  the  front-  from  the  back-glisses  of  the  objective,  \ 
i^U'lt  makes  a  veiy*  sensible  difference  in  its  magnifying  power. 
This  determination   is  m.idc  by  means  of  a  divided  glass  stage- 
micrometer  put  in  the  placeof  the  object,  so  that  the  lines  ruled  \\\mn 
it  at  fixcil  intervals  shnll  be  projccte^l  ujwn  the  fichl  of  vicw^     Tlio 
stage-micrometer  is  usually  ruled  either  to  lOOOths  of  an  iDch  or 


lOOths  of  a  millimetre ;  and  it  is  convenient  thai  one  of  the  dirisions 
of  its  image  should  be  made  to  coincide  exactly  with  a  certain  number 
of  divisions  of  the  screw-micrometer.  This  may  be  done  by  lengtheB- 
ing  the  draw-tube,  so  as  to  increase  the  amplification  of  the  scale 
until  coincidence  has  been  reached;  and  the  exact  amount  of  this 
lengthening  should  be  noted, — as  should  also  the  precise  positioo 
of  the  milled  head  of  the  slow  motion  (if  it  acts  on  the  objective, 
instead  of  on  the  body  as  a  whole),  and  of  the  adjusting  screw-collar 
of  the  objective  itself.  Thus,  if  two  lines  of  the  stage-micrometer 
separated  by  1000th  of  an  inch  be  brought  into  coincidence  with 
the  two  threads  of  the  eye-piece  micrometer,  separated  by  forty 
divisions  of  the  screw  milled  head,  the  value  of  each  of  those  divi- 
sions is  rrhnith  of  an  inch.  If  tKe  above  conditions  be  precisely 
recorded  for  each  objective  used  in  micrometry,  the  micromctric 
value  of  the  divisions  remains  the  same  for  that  objective,  whenerer 
it  is  employed  under  the  same  conditions. 

The  errors  to  which  micrometers  are  subject  arise  (1)  from  in- 
equalities in  the  ruling  of  the  stage-micrometer,  (2)  from  irregulari- 
ties iu  the  screw  of  the  eye-piece  micrometer,  (3)  from  "  lost  time  '* 
in  its  working,  and  (4)  from  the  thickness  of  its  threads.  In  order 
to  eliminate  the  first  and  second,  it  is  well  to  determine  the  rela- 
tion of  tho  divisions  of  the  two  micromctera  by  the  comparison  of 
a  considerable  number  of  both ;  the  third  proceeds  from  an  imper- 
fection of  workmanship  which,  if  it  shows  itself  sensibly,  entirely 
destroys  the  value  of  the  instnrment,  while  the  fourth  can  be 
rectified  by  the  exercise  of  skill  and  judgment  on  the  part  of  the 
observer.  For,  if  the  micrometer  is  so  constructed  as  to  read  zero 
when  one  thread  lies  exactly  upon  the  other,  its  divisions  indicate 
tlie  distance  between  the  axes  of  these  threads  when  separated  ;  and 
the  dimensions  of  any  object  (such  as  a  blood-corpuscle)  lying 
between  their  borders  will  obviously  be  too  gieat  by  half  the  thick- 
ness of  the  two  threads,  that  is,  by  the  entire  thickness  of  one 
thread.  When,  on  the  other  hand,  the  measurement  is  being  made 
(ns  of  tho  distances  of  tho  strife  on  diatoms)  by  the  coincidence 
between  certain  lines  oo  the  object  and  the  axes  of  the  threads  o( 
the  micrometer,  the  dimensions  indicated  by  the  divisions  of  the 
screw  milled-head  will  be  correct. 

The  costliness  of  a  well-constructed  acrew-micrometer  being  a 
formidable  obstacle  to  its  general  use,  a  6im7)ler  method  (devis^  by 
Mr  George  Jackson)  is  more  commonly  adopted,  which  consists  iu 
the  insertion  of  a  ruled-glass  scale  into  the  focus  of  an  ordinary 
Huygenian  eye-piece,  so  that  its  lines  are  projected  on  the  field  of 
view.  This  scale  (ruled,  like  an  ordinary  measure,  with  every  fifth 
line  long,  and  every  tenth  line  double  the  length  of  the  fifth)  is 
fixed  in  a  brass  inner  frame,  that  has  a  sliglit  motion  in  the  direc- 
tion of  its  length  within  an  outer  frame;  and  this  last,  being  intro- 
duced through  a  pair  of  slits  into  the  eye-piece  just  above  the 
diaphragm,  and  being  made  to  occupy  the  centre  of  the  field,  is 
brouglit  exactly  into  focus  by  unscrewing  the  eye-glass  as  far  as 
may  be  requisite.  "When  the  image  of  the  object  to  be  measured  is 
brought  by  the  focal  adjustment  of  the  object-glass  into  the  same 
plane,  a  small  pushing-screw  at  the  end  of  the  micronicter  (whrae 
action  is  antagonized  by  a  spring  at  the  other  end)  is  turned  until 
one  of  the  long  divisions  of  the  scale  is  brought  into  optical  contact 
with  oue  edge  of  the  image  of  the  object  to  be  measured,  and  the 
number  of  divisions  is  then  counted  to  its  other  edge, — the  operation 
being  exactly  that  of  laying  a  rule  across  the  real  object  if  enlarged 
to  the  size  of  its  image.  The  micrometric  value  of  each  division  of 
this  eye-piece  scale  must  be  carefully  ascertained  for  each  objective, 
as  in  the  case  of  the  screw -micrometer,  the  error  arising  from  in- 
equality of  its  divisions  being  eliminated  as  far  as  jiossible  by  taking 
an  average  of  several.  The  principal  point  of  inferiority  in  this 
form  of  micrometer  is  that,  as  its  divisions  cannot  be  made  of 
nearly  so  small  a  value  as  those  of  the  screw-micrometer,  an 
estimate  of  fractional  parts  of  them  often  becomes  necessary,  which 
is  objectionable  as  involving  an  additional  source  of  error.  To  meet 
this  objection,  Hartnack  has  introduced  the  diagonal  scale  nscd  in 
mathematical  instruments  before  the  invention  of  the  vernier. 

Another  mode  of  making  micromctric  measurements,  which  forj 
some  purposes  has  considerable  advantages,  is  to  employ  a  stages 
micrometer  in  combination  with  some  form  of  camera  Incida 
attached  to  the  eye-piece  of  the  microscope,  so  that  the  image  of 
its  divisions  may  be  projected  upon  the  same  surface  as  that  on 
which  tho  image  of  the  object  is  throwu.  "  By  first  using  the  niled 
stige-miorometcr,  and  marking  on  the  paper  the  average  distance 
of  its  lines  as  seen  in  the  centml  part  of  the  field,  and  then  ruling 
the  paper  accordingly,  the  micrometric  value  of  the  divisions  s* 
l>roji'cted  may  be  exactly  dotevmined  for  the  objective  employed  and 
the  distance  of  the  drawing-plane  from  the  eye-piece, — so  that,  when 
tho  image  of  any  object  is  projected  under  the  same  conditions,  tlie 
dimensions  of  that  image  or  of  any  parts  of  it  can  be  exactly  measured 
upon  the  divided  scale  previously  projected,  and  the  true  dimen- 
sions of  the  object  thus  easily  ascertained.  If,  for  example,  the 
lines  of  a  stngc-micromctcr  ruled  to  the  thousandth  of  an  inch 
should,  when  thus  projecied,  fall  at  a  distance  of  an  inch  apftr^ 
then  the  application  of  nn  oixlinarj"  scale  of  inches  (divided  into 
tculhs)  to  tU«  image  of  au  object  p'rojected  by  tho  same  objectiTO 


278 


M  I  D  —  M  I  D 


and  on  the  eame  nlane  wonid  give  its  real  dimcDBione  in 
thousandths  of  an  inch,  while  the  tenths  of  the  inch  scale  would 
represent  a  real  dimension  of  as  many  ten-thousandths.  It  is  often 
desirable  to  make  such  measurements  from  careful  tracing  of  the 
outlines  of  objects,  rather  than  from  the  visual  images, — this  plan 
being  especiallj'  ajvantaf^eous  when  the  exact  diracnsions  of  many 
similar  objects  have  to  be  compared,  as  iu  the  case  of  blood-cor- 
puscles, precise  measurements  of  which  are  not  un  frequently  required 
in  judicial  inquiries.  It  was  by  the  use  of  this  method  that  the 
late  Mr  Gulliver  made  his  admirable  scries  of  measurements  of  the 
average  and  extreme  dimensions  of  the  blood-corpuscles  of  different 
animals.     .4jid  more  recently  Jlr  Dallinger  has  shown, —by  first 


malting  a  very  fine  camera  Inrida  tracing  of  BaeUHvm  («nn» 
under  an  amplification  of  2000  diameters,  and  measuring  the  breadth 
of  its  body  in  the  mode  above  indicated  (which  gave  it  as  jjl-ffTjth 
of  an  inch),  aud  theu  by  magnifying  his  tracing  from  five  to  ten 
diametei-s,  and  comjiaring,  by  means  of  the  screw-micrometer,  the 
breadth  of  the  flagellum  wHh  that  of  the  body  (which  last  proved 
to  be  just  ten  times  rs  gicat), — that,  although  the  theoretical  llmik 
of  resolving  power  for  closely  approximated  lines  is  iirjVjuth  of  an 
inch,  a  semitransparent  filament  whose  breadth  is  not  greater  than 
Tirir\nnjth  of  an  inch  may  be  clearly  discerned,  and  even  measured 
with  a  close  approximation  to  accuracy  {Jour,  of  Royal  Micros, 
Society,  vol  L,  1879,  p.  169).  (W.  R  C.) 


MIDAS,  king  of  Phrygia,  is  one  of  those  half-legendary 
heroes  in  whom  religious  legends  have  gathered  round  a 
real  person.  The  name  Midas  the  king,  MIAAI  /ANAKTEI, 
occurs  on  a  very  ancient  tomb  in  the  valley  of  the  Sangarius, 
the  legendary  seat  of  the  Phrygian  kingdom  (Iliad  iii. 
189).  The  Phrygian  ^nonarchy  was  destroyed  by  the 
Cimmerians  about  670  B.C.,  and  the  last  king  Midas  com- 
mitted suicide  by  drinking  bull's  blood.  The  name  Midas 
became  in  Greek  tradition  the  representative  of  this  ancient 
dynasty,  but  all  that  is  told  of  him  is  religious  myth.  He 
is  a  figure  in  the  cycle  of  Cybele  legends,  the  son  of  the 
goddess  and  her  first  priest.  He  is  also  closely  connected 
witi  the  cultus  of  Dionysus,  like  the  two  heroic  personages 
Marsyas  and  Silenus.  The  Midas  legend  was  known  on 
Mount  Bermius  in  Macedonia,  and  must  at  one  time  have 
existed  in  Greece ;  two  cities  Midea,  in  ArgoLis  aud  in 
Boeotia,  recall  tlie  Phrygian  city  Midaeium. 
See  Herod,  viii.  13S;  Xen.,  Anab.,  i.  2,  13;  Paus.  i.  45,  &c 
MIDDELBURG,  iu  Holland,  the  ancient  capital  of  the 
province  of  Zealand,  situated  in  the  middle  of  the  island 
of  Walcheren,  is  mentioned  as  early  as  1153,  and  receives 
the  title  "town"  in  a  charter  granted  it  in  1227.  It  has 
all  the  characteristics  of  an  old  and  worn-out  place.  The 
population  (2.5,000  in  1739)  had  sunk  to  12,000  or  13,000 
by  the  beginning  of  the  19th  century,  and  has  only  begun 
recently  to  increase  again,  being  15,939  in  1882.  The 
dwelling-houses,  which  in  1739  were  about  3800,  are  now 
but  3000,  and  of  these  about  600  are  unoccupied.  The 
vast  warehouses  and  imposing  mansions  once  belonging  to 
wealthy  families,  which  have  either  died  out  or  left  the 
place,  call  up  the  memory  of  that  iirosperity  which  Middel- 
burg  enjoyed  before  its  extensive  trade,  with  the  East  and 
West  IncUe-s,  with  England  and  Flanders,  was  ruined  by 
the  war  with  England  and  the  French  occupation.  By 
the  opening  of  the  railway  (1872)  and  of  the  ship  canal 
(1873)  to  Flushing  Middelburg  was  lifted  out  of  its  isola- 
tion, and,  with  the  assistance  of  the  chamber  of  commerce, 
manufacturing  industries  (iron,  machinery,  furniture,  oil, 
cigars,  ic.)  were  established  ;  but  the  prosperity  anticipated 
for  Flushing,  and  consequently  for  Jliddelburg,  remains 
unrealized.  One  of  the  chief  sights  of  Middelburg  is  the 
splendid' town-hou.se,  for  the  most  part  erected  in  1512-13, 
with  its  front  gable  adorned  with  twenty-five  statues  of 
counts  and  countesses  of  Holland  and  Zealand  ;  it  contains 
the  archives,  and  a  most  valuable  antiquarian  and  historical 
collection.  The  abbey,  begun  in  1150,  has  frequently  been 
the  residence  of  royal  visitors  (Maximilian,  Philip  the  Fair, 
Charles  V.,  and  so  on  down  to  Napoleon  I.,  and  William  I., 
II.,  and  III.) ;  part  of  it  is  now  an  hotel,  and  part  of  it  is 
occupied  by  the  provincial  authorities.  The  great  hall  of 
the  building,  in  which  the  states  of  Zealand  assemble,  is 
adorned  with  beautiful  tapestries  by  Jan  de  Maecht,  repre- 
senting the  heroic  feats  of  the  men  of  Zealand  in  the 
contest  with  Spain.  What  was  formerly  the  nave  of  the 
abbey  church  is  now  the  New  Church,  and  the  ancient  choir 
constitutes  the  Choir  Church.  The  former  contains  a  fine 
pulpit  resting  on  an  eagle,  the  monument  of  William,  king 


of  the  Romans  (d.  1256),  and  the  tombs  of  Jan  and 
Cornells  Evertsen,  two  naval  heroes  who  fell  in  the  war 
against  England  in  1666;  the  latter  has  the  monuments 
of  the  learned  Hadrian  Junius  and  of  Jan  Pieterszoon. 
The  pro^^ncial  court,  the  corn  exchange,  the  Hof  St  Joris 
and  the  Hof  St  Sebastian  (formerly  buildings  belonging  to 
the  guilds  of  archers,  and  now  places  of  amusement)  deserve 
mention.  The  great  museum  of  Zealand  antiquities,  col- 
lected by  the  Zealand  Society  of  Arts  and  Sciences  (founded 
at  Flushing  in  1769  and  transferred  to  Middelburg  in 
1801),  shows  that  the  town  is  the  intellectual  centre  of  the 
province. 

The  principal  facts  in  the  history  of  Middelburg  are  the  sieges  by 
the  Flemings  in  1288,  129»,  and  1303  (the  last  resulting  in  the 
Cfiptnre  of  tlie  town  by  Guy  of  Dampierre);  the  recovery  of  the 
town  from  the  Spaniards  in  1574,  after  an  iuvestmeut  of  nearly  two 
years;  the  frequent  disturbances  among  the  townsfolk  in  the  17th 
and  18th  centuries;  the  surrender  to  the  English  iu  1809  ;  and  the 
arrival  and  departure  of  the  French  in  1809  aud  1814. 

MIDDLEBOROUGH,  a  town  of  the  United  States  in 
Plymouth  county,  Massachusetts,  34  miles  south  of  Boston. 
It  has  a  handsome  town-hall  and  a  public  library,  manufac- 
tures woollen  goods,  straw  goods,  shovels,  shoes,  cairiagea, 
<tc.,  and  in  1880  had  5237  inhabitants. 

MIDDLESBROUGH,  situated  near  the  mouth  of  the 
Tees,  on  its  south  bank,  in  the  North  Riding  of  Yorkshire, 
has  now  become  the  principal  seat  of  the  English  iron 
trade.  It  is  a  municipal  and  parliamentary  borough, 
locally  governed  by  a  mayor  and  corporation,  and  returns 
a  member  to  parliament,  The  earlier  history  ef  the  place 
is  meagre.  Where  Middlesbrough  now  stands  (Graves's 
History  of  Cleveland)  there  were  at  one  time  a  small  chapel 
and  priory  founded  by  Robert  de  Brus  of  Skelton  Castle. 
These  were  dedicated  to  St  Hilda,  and  with  some  lands 
were  given  by  De  Brus  to  the  abbey  of  St  Hilda  at  WhitViy 
in  1130.  The  priory  fell  into  ruins  at  the  time  of  the 
Reformation,  and  no  trace  now  remains  beyond  some  stones 
built  into  the  wall  of  a  brewery.  The  mayor's  chair  also 
is  made  from  a  fragment.  In  1801  there  were  upon  the 
site  of  Middlesbrough  only  four  farm-houses.  In  1829  a 
company  styling  itself  the  iliddlesbrough  Owners  bought 
500  acres  of  land,  and  commenced  building  the  town.  In 
1830  the  Stockton  and  Darlington  Railway  was  extended 
from  Stockton  to  Middlesbrough  ;  four  years  later  the  town 
was  lighted  with  gas ;  and  after  six  years  more  a  publie 
market  was  established.  The  census  of  1831  showed  the 
population  to  be  154;  that  of  1841  showed  5709.  In 
1842  the  opening  of  the  docks  gave  additional  importance 
to  the  town.  First  containing  an  area  of  9  acres,  they 
were  extended  in  1872  to  12  acres,  with  1700  feet  of 
quays.  Vessels  of  3000  tons  burden  can  be  accommodated. 
From  the  year  1851,  when  J.  Yaughan  discovered  the 
presence  of  ironstone  in  the  Eston  Hills,  the  town  advanced 
with  rapid  strides.  When  the  jubilee  of  the  town  was  held 
in  1881  (a  year  late)  the  population  had  risen  to  55,934, 
the  area  to  2731  acres,  and  the  rateable  value  to  jE140,000, 
the  population  of  the  parliamentary  borough  (area  4715 
acres)  being  72,145.  .  In  the  district  the-^  are  upwards  of 


M I D— M I D 


279 


130  blast  furnaces,  besides  large  iron  and  steel  works;  and 
the  Thomas-Gilchrist  process  of  making  steel  proipises  for 
Middlesbrough  importance  in  the  future  as  a  steel  entre- 
p5t.  The  make  of  pig-iron  in  1880  was  1,991,032  tons. 
There  are  also  shipbuilding,  potteries,  chemical  works,  and 
a  salt  trade.  Middlesbrough  is  well  laid  out,  nearly  all 
the  streets  lying  at  right  angles  to  one  another.  Many  of 
the  churches  and  the  exchange  are  handsome  buildings, 
while  the  station  of  the  North  Eastern  Railway  is  probably 
the  finest  in  ihe  north  of  England,  A  splendid  park  of  72 
acres,  the  gift  of  the  late  H.  F.  W.  Bolckow,  adds  greatly 
to  the  amenity  uf  the  town. 

MIDDLESEX,  an  inland  county  in  the  south-east  of 
England,  lying  between  51°  25'  and  51°  40'  N.  lat.,  and 
between  0°  and  0°  36'  W.  long.  On  the  south  it  is  divided 
from  Surrey  and  Kent  by  the  Thames,  on  the  east  from 
Easex  by  the  Lea,  on  the  west  from  Buckinghamshire  by  the 
Colne,  and  on  the  north  from  Hertfordshire  by  a  partly 
artificijl  and  very  irregular  line.  Although  with  the  ex- 
ception of  Rutland  it  is  the  smallest  county  in  England, 
its  population  is  exceeded  by  that  of  Lancashire  only.  Its 
total  area  is  181,317  acres,  of  which  2592  acres  are  common 
or  waste  lands.  The  longest  straight  line  that  can  be 
drawn  in  the  county  is  one  of  nearly  28  miles  from  the 
north-eastei  n  extremity  near  AValthani  Abbey  to  the  south- 
western at  Staines.  From  north  to  south  in  the  broadest 
part  the  distance  is  about  15  miles. 

Surface  and  Geology. — The  greater  portion  of  the  county 
is  flat/  although  there  are  sufficient  undulations  to  allow  of 
a  proper  drainage  of  the  land.  A  range  of  hills  runs  along 
the  Hertfordshire  border  by  Barnet,  Elstree,  Stanraore,  and 
Pinner,  averaging  400  feet  in  height;  another  range  occupies 
the  ground  just  north  of  London  by  Hornsey,  Highgate, 
and  Hampstead ;  Harrow  occupies  an  isolated  eminence 
i)etween  the  two  ranges. 

The  county  lies  entirely  within  the  basin  of  the  Thames, 
and  the  London  CUy  extends  over  a  large  portion  of  the 
surface.  This  formation  stretches  from  the  mouth  of  the 
estuary  of  the  Thames  to  the  neighbourhood  of  Marl- 
borough. It  attains  its  greatest  breadth  (little  short  of  30 
miles)  in  the  neighbourhood  of  London,  and  e.xtends  north- 
ward until  it  is  lost  beneath  the  drift  of  Suffolk  and 
Norfolk.  The  following  is  a  table  of  the  various  beds  of 
rock  which  occur  at  the  surface,  with  their  greatest  thick- 
acss  (in  feet)  in  the  district : — 

Alluvium  (recent  river  deposits) 15 

Posl-Plixcnc  TcrtiarUs. 

Post-glaci.nI  bejs  (luick-caitli,  gmvrl,  it) 50 

Glacial  drift  (boulJcr  clay,  gravel,  ic.) 80 

Eoctiic  Tdlinria. 

Lower  Bagsliot  sands 100 

Loudon  Cl.iy <20 

AVoolwicli  and  lUading  bods. 90 

Ci-'liccoiis. 
CImlk  nitli  ninta .     800 

Chalk  comes  to  the  surface  in  ao  very  few  places  that  it 
isscarcot)-  worth  mention.  It  is  seen  near  Hareficld  and  on 
the  north-west  side  of  South  Minims.  The  depth  from  the 
BOrfaci'  to  the  chalk  varies  greatly  in  different  parts  of  the 
rountN .  This  has  been  proved  by  the  borings  for  wells ; 
thus  at  Isleworth  the  depth  is  400  feet  and  at  Hampstead 
878,  while  at  Kui>-lip  it  is  7G  feet  and  at  Pinner  only  GO. 
The  rtcading  beds  (plastic  clays)  are  brought  to  the  sur- 
face at  Windsor.  Tlicy  follow  roughly  the  course  of  the 
liver  Colnc  from  the  north  of  Uxbridge  along  the  flank  of 
the  hills  north-eastward,  but  arc  sometimes  cut  back  south- 
ward along  small  side  valleys.  An  outlying  mass  is 
•tjiosed  at  Pinner.  The  Bagshot  sands,  consisting  of 
gravel  and  sand  permeable  to  water,  once  stretched  over 
the  whole  extent  of  the  London  Clay,  but  they  are  now  to 
be  found  only  on  the  high  grounds  at  Hampstead,  High- 


gate,  and  Harrow.  A  comer  of  the  main  mass  enters  the 
south-west  corner  of  the  county  near  Littleton.  Beds  of 
brick-earth  occur  in  the  drift  between  West  Drayton  and 
Uxbridge. 

Several  deep  borings  in  the  London  basin  prove  the 
existence  beneath  the  chalk  of  beds  which  do  not  crop  out 
in  Middlesex.  Three  of  these  are  in  the  county;  and  the 
most  interesting  is  that  at  Jleux's  Brewery,  Tottenham 
Court  Road  (about  1146  feet),  which  passes  through  ♦!»• 
following  formations : — gravel  and  clay,  21  feet;  Londou 
Clay,  64  feet;  Reading  beds,  51  feet;  Thanet  sand,  21  feet; 
chalk,  655  feet ;  Upper  Greensand,  28  feet ;  gault,  160 
feet ;  Lower  Greensand,  64  feet ;  Devonian,  80  feet. 

Rivers  and  Canals. — The  Thames  is  very  tortuous  in  the 
44  miles  of  its  course  from  Staines  to  Blackwall,  and  makes 
a  remarkable  bend  at  the  eastern  limit  of  the  county  where 
it  forms  the  so-called  Isle  of  Dogs.  The  width  at  Staines 
is  200  feet,  at  Chiswick  opposite  Barnes  340  feet,-  at 
Hammersmith  525  feet,  at  Fulham  820  feet,  at  Westmin- 
ster Bridge  1 100  feet,  but  at  London  Bridge  it  is  less  than 
800  feet ;  above  the  junction  of  the  Lea  at  the  Isle  of  Dogs 
the  width  is  1350  feet.  The  ordinary  rise  of  the  tide  at 
London  Bridge  is  16  feet,  and  the  tide- way  ends  at  Tea- 
dington.  The  port  of  London  begins  below  London  Bridge, 
and  the  channel  for  from  2  to  3  miles  is  called  the  Pool. 

The  Colne  from  Hertfordshire  enters  Middlesex  at  the 
north-western  corner  of  the  county.  It  then  runs  south, 
joining  the  Thames  at  Staines,  and  in  its  course  divides 
Middlesex  from  Buckinghamshire  for  15  miles.  After  the 
river  leaves  Uxbridge  it  divides  out  into  several  small 
channels.  The  Lea  from  Hertfordshire  enters  Middlesex 
at  the  north-eastern  corner  of  the  county  near  Waltham 
Abbey.  It  runs  south,  dividing  Jliddlesex  from  Essex  for 
15  miles,  and  falls  into  the  Thames  at  Bow  Creek.  Several 
branches  flow  off  from  the  river  during  its  course.  The 
Brent  from  Hertfordshire  enters  Jliddlesex  near  Finchley. 
i  It  takes  a  circuitous  direction  southward  through  the 
1  middle  of  the  county  by  Hendon,  Kingsbury,  Tnyford, 
Greenford,  and  Hanwell  to  the  town  of  Brentford,  where  it 
,  unites  with  the  Thames.  Wliere  the  river  crosses  the  Edge- 
;  ware  Road  (about  3  miles  south  of  the  town  of  Edgeware) 
it  is  expanded  by  artificial  means  into  an  extensive  reser- 
voir. The  Cran  (or  Yedding  Brook)  rises  in  the  district 
between  Harrow  and  Pinner  and  flows  under  Cranford 
Bridge;  it  crosses  Hounslow  Heath,  and  bends  round  to 
Twickenham  and  Isleworth,  where  in  a  divided  stream  it 
falls  into  the  Thames. 

There  were  several  other  small  streams  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  London  which  have  left  their  mark  iu  the  names 
of  places,  but  which  are  now  merely  sewers,  such  as  the 
AVallbrook,  the  Westbourn,  the  Tyburn,  the  Fleet  river, 
ifcc.  The  last-mentioned,  which  runs  into  the  Thames  near 
Blackfiiars  Bridge,  was  formerly  navigable  as  far  aa 
Holborn  Bridge  ;  but,  the  Fleet  Ditcii,  as  it  was  then  called, 
having  become  in  the  last  century  a  dangerous  nuisance, 
the  lord  mayor  and  citizens  were  empowered  by  Act  of 
Parliament  to  arch  it  over.  The  work  was  commenced  in 
1734,  and  in  1737  Fleet  market,  occupying  the  site  of  the 
space  i\o\\\  Holborn  Bridge  to  Fleet  Bridge,  was  opened  to 
the  public.  The  New  River,  an  artificial  water-course  con- 
structed by  Sir  Hugh  Myddelton  in  the  reign  of  James  L 
to  suiiply  London  with  water,  runs  through  the  county  from 
north  to  south  a  little  to  the  west  of  the  river  Lea.  It 
derives  its  waters  from  the  springs  of  Amwell  and  L'hadweU, 
increased  by  a  cut  from  the  Lea,  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
Ware,  and  enters  Middlesex  from  Hertfordshire  about  2 
miles  north  of  Enfield.  It  passes  Enfield,  Tottenham, 
Hornsey,  and  Stoke  Xewington,  and  is  received  into  the 
reservoir  in  Cleikenwell  known  as  the  New  River  Head. 
The  Grand  Junction  Canal  leaves  llic  Thames  at  Brent- 


280 


MIDDLESEX 


ford,  proceeds  in  a  westerly  direction  by  way  of  Hanwell 
and  Cranford  to  West  Drayton ;  thence  iu  a  northerly 
direction  it  foUowB  tho  valley  of  the  Colne.  It  passes 
Uxbridge,  and  after  leaving  the  county  takes  its  further 
course  by  Rickmansworth  through  Hertfordshire.  The 
Paddington  Canal  leaves  the  Grand  Junction  Canal  at 
Cranford,  and  passes  Northolt,  Apperton,  Tnyford  (where 
it  is  carried  over  the  Brent  by  an  aqueduct),  and  Kensal 
Green.  At  Paddington  it  joins  the  Regent's  Canal,  which 
passes  the  north  of  Regent's  Park,  and  after  proceeding 
through  the  eastern  portions  of  London  joins  the  Thames 
at  Limehouse.  The  Regent's  Canal  is  joined  to  the  river 
Lea  by  means  of  Sir  George  Duckett's  Canal,  and  thus 
there  is  a  through  communication  from  the  north-eastern 
corner  of  the  county  to  the  south-eastern  corner,  thence 
from  east  to  west,  and  northward  to  the  north-west  corner. 

ClimcUe,  Soil,  Affriculture,  He- — The  climate  of  the 
county  is  equable  and  good,  and  the  shelter  of  the  northern 
Lills  makes  the  air  mild.  Highgate,  Hampstead,  and 
soma  other  parts  are  supposed  to  be  specially  healthy,  and 
are  recommended  for  invalids  by  the  medical  profession. 

The  heavy  poor  clay  in  the  north  and  north-western  por- 
tion of  Middlesex  is  chiefly  covered  with  permanent  grass. 
In  some  parts  it  has  been  made  fit  for  arable  cultivation 
by  the  addition  of  chalk,  lime,  and  ashes.  The  rich 
deposits  from  the  Thames  have  formed  a  soil  which  when 
well  manured  is  specially  suitable  for  market  gardens. 
From  its  nearness  to  London  the  district  l^as  long  been 
famous  for  high  farming,  and  the  divisions  devoted  to 
different  kinds  of  farming  are  well  marked.  The  greater 
part  of  Gore  and  Ossulston  hundreds,  portions  of  Spel- 
thome  and  Edmonton  hundreds,  and  a  strip  do'wn  the 
western  side  of  Elthorne  hundred  are  devoted  to  meadow 
ajid  pasture.  The  arable  land  is  chiefly  found  on  the 
western  side,  and  between  the  Great  Western  Railway  and 
the  Thames.  It  is  also  to  be  seen  in  the  north-western 
district.  With  the  constant  increase  of  London,  houses 
have  encroached  upon  the  fields,  and  most  of  the  market 
gardens  w-hich  were  situated  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
Islington  and  Hackney  have  disappeared.  The  strip  of 
land  by  the  Thames  from  Brentford  to  Chelsea  was  given 
np  almost  entirely  to  market  gardens,  but  Fulham  is  fast 
being  built  over. 

According  to  tho  returns  for  1882,  tne  area  occupied  by  grain 
and  (^een  crops,  grass,  &c.,  was  118,470  acres.  Of  this  amount, 
16,337  acres  weie  under  corn  crops  (wheat,  6410;  bailey,  3083; 
o.its,  3S95;  and  beans  and  pease,  2636);  13,451  under  green  crops 
(including potatoes,  3019;  turnips,  1539;  mangolds,  1692;  cabbage, 
fco.,  118S);  3025  under  clover  and  grasses  sown  in  rotation  ;  and 
82,782  under  permanent  pasture.  Orchards  occupied  3419  acres; 
market  gardens,  6900;  nursery  grounds,  447;  aud  woods,  2382. 
In  the  same  year  the  horses  numbered  6939  (4188  used  for  agri- 
cultural purposes);  cattle,  23,283  (cows,  15,390);  sheep,  23,916; 
and  pigs,  12,035. 

The  following  wore  the  landowners  in  the  county  (exclusive  of 
London)  at  tho  time  of  the  Domesday  survey; — the  king,  the  arch- 
bisliop  of  Canterbury,  the  bisliop  aud  canons  of  London,  the  abbeys 
of  Westminster  aud  Holy  Trinity  at  Caen,  the  nunnery  of  Barl<iii£;, 
the  Earls  Roger  and  Morton,  Geoffrey  de  Mannevole,  Ernulf  tie 
Hesdiug,  ■Walter  Fitz  Otlier,  Walter  de  St  Wnlery,  Richard  Fitz 
Gilbert,  Robert  Gcrnon,  Robert  Fafiton,  Robert  Fitz  Roselin, 
Robert  Blund,  Roger  de  Ramcs,  William  Fitz  Ansculf,  Edmund  do 
Salisbury,  Aubrey  de  Vore,  Ranulf  Fitz  Ilger,  Derman,  Countess 
Jiulitb,  and  the  king's  almoners. 

In  1873,  according  to  tho  neturn  of  Oimifra  of  Lnnd,  tho  total 
nnmber  of  owners  in  the  county  (also  exclusive  of  London)  was 
11,881,  of  whom  9006  owned  loss  than  an  acre.  Tlie  extent  ot 
lands  (including  common  or  waste  lands)  is  given  as  145,605.  The 
gross  estimated  rental  was  £1,611,655.  Sixteen  owners  each  j'os- 
uessed  over  1000  acres.  Tho  crown  owned  2382  acres  (annual 
value  £5503);  the  duchy  of  Lancaster,  2273  acres  (£4492)  ;  Ecclesi- 
astical Commissioners,  1308  acres  (£46.619)  ;  All  Souls'  College, 
Oxford,  1813  acres  (£4724);  Christ  Church,  Oxford,  1132  acres 
(£1635)  ;  and  King's  College,  Cambridge,  lOi'7  (£1084). 

Many  villages  of  Middlesex,  cs[)ecial!y  those  near  to 
London,  were  formerly  famous  for  their  mineral  springs. 


Some  pkces  are  still  supplied  with  water  froB  wella  ;  bni 
the  Bamet,  the  East  Middlesex,  the  Grand  Junction,  the 
West  Middlesex,  and  the  New  River  Water  Compamea 
serve  a  large  part  of  the  county. 

itannfactures  aTid  Trade. — "There  is  little  to  remark  with 
regard  to  the  manufactures  of  the  ctWnty  outside  of  London. 
Brick-making  and  tile-making  have  always  flourished,  and 
malting,  distilling,  and  soap-making  are  favourite  industrieat' 
Gunpowder  mills  e.xist  at  Twickenham  and  Bedfonti 
The  market-towns  for  com  are  Uxbridge,  Brentford,  and 
Staines,  for  cattle  and  sheep  SouthalL  A  horse  and  cattle 
fair  is  held  at  South  Mimms  and  Bamet. 

Railvxiys  and  Moods. — As  London  is  the  centre  of  the  rail va J 
system  of  England,  it  is  evident  that  many  of  the  lines  most  itm 
through  Middlesex.  For  similar  reasons  it  is  well  provided  with 
roads. 

Population.— TVa  total  population  of  Middlesex  was  2,639,765  in 
1871  and  2,920,485  in  1881,  or  excluding  the  seven  metropolitan 
boroughs  lying  within  the  county  276,028  in  1871  and  394,089 
in  1881.  Most  of  the  towns  and  villages  have  largely  increased 
during  the  period  between  1871  and  1881  ;  the  populations  of  Acton 
and  'Tottenham  have  more  than  doubled,  and  Chiswick,  Ealing,' 
Edmonton,  and  Willesden  have  almost  doubled.  Of  the  larg«r 
places  the  least  increase  has  been  at  Brentford,  which  numbered 
10,271  in  1871,  and  reached  11,808  in  1881.  At  the  time  of  tho 
Domesday  survey  the  population  of  Middlesex,  exclusive  of  LoDdon,1 
was  2302. 

Qorcrnmtnt. — Unlike  other  counties,  Middlesex  has  no  high^ 
sheriff  api»intod  by  the  sovereign.  It  is  subject  to  the  City  of 
London,  and  one  of  the  sheriffs  appointed  by  the  lord  mayor'is  sheriff 
for  Middlesex.  When  Henry  I.  came  to  the  throne  be  gave  the  city 
an  extensive  charter,  and  one  of  the  privileges  either  granted  or 
confirmed  by  the  king  was  the  perpetual  sheriffwick  of  ilidillesex.  ] 

The  whole  of  the  county  is  included  in  the  diocese  of  Loudon, 
and  is  divided  between  the  archdeaconries  of  London  and  Middlesex. 
When  Henry  VII 1.  created  the  bishopric  of  Westminster  he  allotei 
the  whole  county  (the  parish  of  Fulham  alone  excepted)  for  its 
diocese.  Edward  VI.,  however,  dissolved  the  bishopric  in  tha 
fourth  year  of  his  reign 

Tlie  county  is  divided  into  six  hundreds,  which  remain  the  sarae 
as  they  were  at  the  time  of  the  Domesday  survey,  except  that  lUo 
name  of  one  has  been  changed: — Ossulston  (Osulvestane  U. ),  Eilmon.' 
ton  (Delmetoue  D.),  Gore  (Gara  D.),  Elthomo  (Helctome  oi 
Heletlioruo  D.),  Spelthorno  (Spelotome  or  Spelethorne  D. ),  laW 
worth  (Honeslaw  D.,  i.e.,  Houoslow).  The  division  into  hundreds' 
is  now  merely  a  name,  and  a  record  of  a  former  system  of  local 
government. 

There  are  thirty-two  poor-law  unions,  but  the  tiniona  bdyond' 
London  are  only  eight  in  number,  viz.,  Brentford,  Edmonton^' 
Fulham,  Hackney,  Hampstead,  Hendon,  Staines,  Uxbridge. 

The  majority  of  hospitals  are  in  London,  but  there  is  a  traininf 
hospital  at  Tottenham,  St  John's  Hospital  at  Twickenham,  and 
cottage  hospitals  at  Enfield,  Ealing,  Hayes,  Hillingdon,  Sudbury, 
and  Teddiugton.  The  Royal  India  Lunatic  Asylum  is  at  Ealing,' 
and  the  two  county  asylums  at  Colney  Hatfh  and  Hanwelh 

The  county  is  within  the  jurisdiction  of  the  central  criminal  cour 
and  alsoof  the  metropolitau  i)oIice(with  the  exception  of  the  City) 

Parliamentary  Ktprisentati0n.  —There  are  nine  constrtuencies  it.' 
Middlesex,  returning  nineteen  members,  viz.,  two  for  tho  county/ 
four  for  the  City  of  London,  two  for  each  of  the  boroughs  of  Weat- 
niiuster,  Finsbury,  MaiyJfl>ouc,  tho  Tower  Hamlets,  Chelsea,  and 
Hackney,  with  one  for  the  university  of  Loudon. 

In  tho  parliament  of  1295  Middlesex  was  represeiited  by  two 
members  ;  in  1298  London  sent  two  members  as  w  ell  as  the  countj". 
For  the  parliament  of  13'20  and  subsequent  parliaments  London 
elected  four  n>cmbers,  but  it  does  not  appear  that  all  wi-rc  allowed 
to  sit.  From  the  16th  century,  however,  the  city  has  always  sent 
four  members  to  parliament.  In  1547  Westminster  first  sent  hrr 
two  members,  and  from  that  time  until  1832  the  only  seats  were 
those  for  the  county  and  the  two  boroughs.  In  1832  the  boroughs  of 
Finsbury,  Marylebouc,  and  Tower  Haniletswere  adde<l,  and  in  1866 
the  boroughs  oi^  Chelsea  and  Hackney  and  the  university  of  London. 

History.— The  district  now  included  in  Middlesex  was  largely 
occupied  by  forest  up  to  a  comparatively  recent  period,  and  its 
population  must  always  have  been  very  sparse.  A  few  prehistoric 
remains  have  been  discovered  at  various  times, — bones  of  the 
elephant,  hippopotiimus,  deer,  4c.,  at  Old  Brentford,  elk  horns 
near  Chelsea  Hospital,  fosail  teeth,  fish,  fruit,  ic,  at  Highgate,' 
and  quite  recently,  in  1879,  while  tho  foundations  wore  being  dug 
out  for  Drunimond's  New  Bank  fit  Charing  Cross,  a  large  number 
of  prehistoric  animal  remains.  Flint  instruments  have  also  been' 
found  to  cover  a  considerable  area.  During  the  Cvitish  period  the 
district  is  supposed  to  have  been  Inhabited  by  the  Trinobantcs,  bnt 


VOL.  XVI 

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PLATE  III 


MIDDLESEX 


28  J 


the  Ut«  Dr  Onest  affirms  th&t  the  valley  of  the  Lea  was  the  \7estern 
boaDdary  of  that  tribe.  In  answer  to  the  question — What  became 
of  the  district  between  the  Lea  and  the  Brent  t  this  great  authority 
■tates  that  the  district  was  merely  a  march  of  the  "  CatuvcUanni," 
•  oommon  through  which  ran  a  wide  trackway,  but  in  which  was 
neither  town,  village,  nor  inhabited  house.  Dr  Guest  also  declares 
that  the  boundaries  of  the  Catuvellaunian  state,  a  central  kingcfom 
formed  or  m'uch  extended  by  Cassivellaunus,  can  be  traced  in  part 
along  the  northern  limit  of  Middlesex  by  following  an  earthwork 
called  Grimesditch  "from  Brockley  Hill  to  the  woodland  of  the 
Colne  Valley  and  thence  to  the  Brent,  and  down  the  Brent  to  the 
Thames."'  Some  earthworks  and  encampments  stili  exist  vhich 
are  attributed  to  the  Britons. 

When  the  country  was  under  Roman  rule  great  improvements, 
due  to  the  growing  importance  of  Londinium,  were  made  in  this 
district  Several  roads  in  connexion  with  the  city  must  have  been 
constructed,  more  especially  the  great  northern  and  eastern  roads, 
Dr  Guest  do^  not  be-lieve  that  the  present  Watling  Street  could 
have  had  any  connexion  with  the  Watling  Street  which  came  down 
the  Edgeware  Roed,  passed  along  by  Park  Lane,  and  crossed  the 
Thames  at  Westminster.  In  the  Antonine  Itinerary  mention  is 
made  of  three  stations,  viz.,  Londinium,  SuUoniacse,  and  Pontes. 
Salloniacae  is  now  Brockley  Hill  ;  Pontes  is  supposed  by  Stukeley 
to  mean  Staines,  but  Horsley  held  that  it  was  intended  for  Old 
Windsor,  and  others  supported  the  claims  of  Colnbrook  and  Long- 
ford. Roman  camps  have  been  found  in  many  parts  of  the  county, 
and  Dr  Stukeley  supposed  that  the  Brill,  near  St  Pancras,  was  the 
site  of  the  battle  between  Boadicea  and  the  Roman  legions  which  has 
left  a  slight  record  in  the  name  of  Battle  Bridge.  The  Roman 
remains  found  at  different  times  are  too  numerous  to  mention  here 
in  detail.  Coins,  urns,  and  tiles  were  found  at  EuGeld,  a  sepulchral 
urn  at  Hampstead,  and  numerous  gold  coins  and  ornaments  at 
Bentley  Priorj-,  Great  Stanmore,  in  1781. 

Cowey  Stakes,  about  a  furlong  west  of  Waicon  Bridge,  is  supposed 
to  bo  the  locality  of  the  ford  by  which  Julius  Ctesar  crossed  the 
Thames.  Cfesar  makes  special  mention  of  the  sharp  stakes  which 
he  had  to  encounter,  and  Bede  says  that  the  remains  of  the  stakes 
were  to  bo  seen  in  his  day.  Camdeu  was  the  6rst  to  fix  upon  this 
as  the  spot  where  Csesar  crossed,  and  he  is  supported  by  Dr  Guest, 
but  the  identification  is  not  undisputed.  Although  a  ford  existed 
here  as  late  as  1807,  and  stakes  were  found  up  to  the  end  of  the 
18th  century,  it  has  been  affirmed  that  they  were  placed  in  their 
position  with  another  object  than  to  oppose  an  enemy's  progress. 
Roman  remains  have  been  found  at  Shepperton  near  Halliford,  at 
the  Middlesex  end  of  the  ford.  A  vase  was  dug  up  in  1817,  and 
the  remains  of  a  Roman  cemetery  have  also  been  discovered. 

As  to  the  earliest  Saxon  occupation  we  are  left  very  much  to  con- 
jecture, and  the  name  itself  is  somewhat  of  a  puzzle.  It  is  evident 
that  no  tribe  could  have  obtained  the  name  of  Middle  Saxons  until 
after  the  settlement  of  the  districts  on  each  side  of  it  by  the  East 
and  the  West  S.axons.  As  Middlesex  was  for  a  period  dependent 
upon  the  kingdom  of  Essex,  it  is  probable  that  the  name  did  not 
come  into  use  until  London  had  become  a  Saxon  city,  although  there 
is  reason  to'- believe  that  previously  Saxon  settlements  had  been 
made  on  several  places  by  the  river  and  elsewhere.  Bede  tells  us 
diat  London  was  in  the  hands  of  King  Seeberct  in  60<,  and  was  then 
the  chief  town  of  Essex.  Just  a  century  afterwards— that  is,  in  704 
— the  king  of  the  East  Saxons  granted  away  land  at  Twickenham, 
showing  that  Middlesex  was  then  dependept  upon  Essex.  It  is 
worthy  of  note  that  the  two  districts  now  forming  the  counties 
in  which  London  and  Southwark  are  situated  were  separated 
from  the  kingdoms  to  which  they  originally  belonged  probably 
on  account  of  tlie  importance  of  the  city  of  London  and  the  borough 
of  Southwark,  Middlesex  from  the  kingdom  of  Essex  and  Surrey 
or  the  South  Ridge  (A.-S.  Su«-rige)  from  the  kingdom  of  Kent 

Middlesex  appears  never  to  have  been  independent.  The  admini- 
strative shire  was  let  to  the  men  of  London  and  their  heirs  to  be 
held  in  farm  of  the  king  and  his  heirs,  and  "the  subject  shire  has 
to  submit  to  the  authority  of  the  sherifls  chosen  by  the  ruling 
city."  • 

Middlesex  is  only  once  mentioned  in  the  Saxon  Chronicle,  under 
date  1011,  where  it  is  noticed  as  one  of  the  districts  overrun  by 
the  Danes.  One  manuscript  (A.  Winchester)  mentions  the  Middle 
Saxons  as  receiving  the  true  faith  under  their  alderman  Peada 
in  663  ;  but  this  is  evidently  a  mistake  of  tho  scribe,  for  the  fact  is 
taken  from  Bede,  and  ha  writes  Middle  Angles,  as  do  the  other 
MSS.  of  the  Chronicle.* 


'  -Lecture  em  the  Orlltin  o(  London,"  Athrnmrt,  IMS,  No.  2032. 

"   Frteman,  Sorman  Comjuett,  rol  v.  (1876)  p.  46S. 

»  \u  ttie  above  passage  from  the  Chronicle,  where  (ho  dlitrlcts  oremin  by  the 
Dmn  In  toil  iAt-  enumerated,  the  nhhei,  which  look  Uielr  nnmcj  from  their 
eWcf  townl,  Qrt  dUtinctly  marked  off  from  the  dlatrkts  which  took  their  namei 
troiB  tho  peoples  who  Inhabited  them.  Of  the  latter  there  are,  bf«l<te!  the 
Ulddle  Saxons,  tiio  East  Angl.  »,  the  Kentlngs,  and  the  South  Sasons.  lllddleocr 
la  atylcd  an  admlnlstrolivc  sliho.  because  It  was  not  liistorlcally  a  shire,  but 
only  one  for  (he  purposes  of  admlnlptratlve  organlialion.  Of  the  prevent  forty 
cotmtks  Iwenly^lght  are  and  twelve  are  not  shires.  Wcssex  was  divliled  ioto  sis 
■bins,  and  Mercla  Into  eightceD,  with  the  sobactiueat  tdOltloti  of  RatUmd.  taken 


The  Saxons  appear  to  have  settled  over  a  large  portion  of  the 
district,  and  for  the  purpose  of  settlement  they  must  have  made 
considerable  clearings  in  the  vast  forest  of  Middlesex.  There  seenu 
to  be  good  reason  for  believing  that  previous  to  their  coming  the 
roads  passed  through  waste  lands.  By  the  time  of  Edward  the 
Confessor  a  large  proportion  of  the  present  towns  and  villages  were 
in  existence.  Mr  Elton,  in  his  Orighis  of  English  i/wfory,''  mentions 
a  curious  fact  with  relation  to  the  tenures  which  prevailed  in  some 
of  these  places.  He  alludes  to  a  ring  of  manors  eucircling  aucieHt 
Loudon  where  the  custom  of  Borough  English  or  junior  nght  was 
prevalent.'  He  then  goes  on  to  point  out  that  in  this  cluster  of 
manors  there  are  several  varieties  of  the  custom: — "  Its  benefit  in 
Islington  and  Edmonton  was  confined  to  the  youngest  son  ;  at 
Ealing,  Acton,  and  Isleworth  it  extended  to  the  brothers  and  male 
collateral  heirs  ;  and  in  a  great  number  of  instances  the  privilege 
was  given  to  females  as  weS  as  to  males  in  every  degree  of  lelstion- 
ship.  These  variations  are  of  no  very  great  importance,  the  custom 
being  modified  in  all  parts  of  the  country  by  the  rule  that  special 
broof  must  be  given  of  any  extension  of  that  strict  form  of  Borough 
English  for  tho  benefit  of  the  younger  son  of  which  alone  the  courts 
have  cognizance.  But  it  is  of  the  greater  interest  to  observe  that 
in  several  places  near  London  '  it  is  the  custom  for  the  land  to 
descend  to  the  youngest,  if  it  is  under  a  particular  value  of  five 
pounds,  but  if  it  is  worth  more,  it  is  parted  among  all  the  sons* 
{First  Real  Property  Cmnmissi(m  Hvidmcc,  p.  254)." 

The  great  forest  of  Middlesex  continued  long  after  the  Norman' 
Conquest,  and  even  as  late  as  the  reign  of  Elizabeth  portions  of  it 
still  existed  quite  close  to  London.  Fitz  Stephen,  the  monk  at 
Canterbury  and  secretary  of  Thomas  a  Becket,  mentions  in  hia 
interesting  description  of  London  the  immense  forest  with  its 
densely  wooded  thickets,  and  its  coverts  of  game,  stags,  fallow- 
deer,  boare,  and  wild  bulls.  A  few  years  after  Fitz  Stephen's  death, 
in  the  reign  of  Henry  III.  (1218),  the  forest  was  disafforested,  and 
some  of  the  wealthy  citizens  took  tho  opportunity  of  purchasing 
land  and  building  upon  it.  Matthew  Pans,  in  his  Ijfe  of  the  twelfth 
abbot  of  St  Albans,  describes  the  woods  contiguous  to  the  Watling 
Street  between  London  and  St  Albans  as  almost  impenetrable,  and 
so  much  infested  by  outlaws  and  by  beasts  of  prey  tuat  the  numer- 
ous pilgrims  who  travelled  along  the  Roman  road  to  the  shrine  of 
Albanus  were  exposed  to  imminent  danger. 

There  is  little  further  history  that  can  be  told  of  Middlesex. 
There  are  many  interesting  incidents  connected  with  some  of  the 
places,  but  corporate  life  has  been  crushed  out  of  the  county  by  the 
greatness  of  London.  Not  a  single  place  except  London  has  grown 
into  importance,  and  nowhere  outside  of  London  is  there  a  building 
of  fi ret-late  interest.  The  villages  on  the  Thames  early  began  to 
increase  in  size  on  account  of  the  convenience  of  locomotion 
supplied  by  ths  river.  It  is  only  since  the  extension  of  the  railway 
system  that  tho  villages  to  the  north  and  north-west  of  London 
have  grown  in  size,  and  this  growth  has  been  mainly  due  to  the 
building  of  houses  for  the  use  of  the  Londoners. 

BWttography. — John  i^orizn.  Speculum  Britanntie:  the  firtt  parte,  an  hUl«ri- 
eall  and  ehorographiealt  discription  of  Middiestjr,  4to,  London,  1593,  reprinted  In 
1637  and  1723;  John  Dowack,  The  Anttquitiel  of  iliddleiex,  paits  1  and  2,  foll(\ 
London,  1705-6;  Ric.  Kewcourt,  Jteptrtorium  Ecctcsiattuum  Paroehiale  iMn- 
dincnte,  2  Tols.  folio,  London,  1708;  Rev.  Tliomas  Cox,  itagna'  Britannia  tt 
Ul^-nia,  antiqua  el  nopa,  6  vols.  4to.  London,  1720  (vol.  lil.  conuins  Middlesex); 
A  DeKrIplion  of  the  County  of  Uiddlelez,  Rvo,  London,  1776;  Rev.  Daniel 
Lysoni,  The  Emironi  of  London,  4  vols.  4to,  London,  1792-96  (vols.  11.,  Hi.,  and 
supplement,  1811,  contain  Middlesex);  John  Jliddietoa,  General  Yiev  of  the 
Agrieullure  of  i/iddleux,  4(0.  London,  1793:  Peter  foot,  Ceneial  Vieu  of  the 
AfruuJIure  of  Uiddleiez,  iU>,  LoTtdon,  nH ;  John  Middielon,  lieu:  of  the  Agri- 
eulture  of  iiiddlelex,  Svo,  London,  1798,  second  edition,  1607  ;  Rev.  D.  LysoQs. 
An  BUtorUat  Account  of  thou  Pariihet  in  the  County  of  Middletex  vhich  are  not 
deteribed  in  The  Enrironi  of  London,  410,  London,  1600 ;  O.  A.  Cooke,  ifodern 
Britith  Traveller.  12mo,  London,  1802-10  (vol.  xli.  contains  Middlesex);  E. 
W.  Braylcy,  Rev.  Joseph  Nightingale,  and  J.  Norris  Brewer,  '-London  ami 
Middlesex,-'  in  Beautiei  of  England  and  IValei,  5  vols.  Svo,  London,  1610-16; 
Rev.  William  Bawdwen,  A  Translation  of  the  Record  rolled  Domesday  so  far  as 
relates  to  the  Counties  of  lliddlesex,  Uerlford,  Buctiugham,  Ozfoi%  and  Olouceiter. 
4(0,  Doncastcr,  1812;  other  publications  conceinlng  (he  Domesday  of  Sliddlescx 
are  facsimile,  foiio,  Sooihampton,  1861 ;  a  literal  extension  of  (he  Latin  text 
folio,  London,  1662;  \Vm.  Ryley  and  Hy.  Dethick,  The  Visitation  of  Uiddlrscx 
begun  in  1663,  folio,  Salisbury,  1820;  William  PInnock,  The  History  and  Topo- 
graphy of  Uiddiesex,  12mo,  London,  1824  (roL  8  of  Plnnock's  County  Bistories); 
W.  Smith,  Delineations  of  the  County  of  Middlesex,  8ve,  London,  1834;  Samuel 
Tymms,  A  Compendious  Account  of  Middlesex  and  London  and  ^Vellmin^ttr  iCasa- 
den-s  Britannia  epitomised  and  continued,  vol.  vli,),  London,  1843;  J.  H.  Sper- 
ling, Church  Waits  ia  Middlesex,  being  an  Ecctesiotogisf  s  Guide  to  that  County, 
12mo.  London,  1849:  The  Beauties  of  Middlesex,  being  a  particular  description  of 
the  principal  seats  of  the  nobility  and  gentry  in  tlie  County  of  Middlesex,  Svo, 
Chelsea,  1850;  The  Counties  of  England  (No.  1,  Middlesex).  Svo,  London,  1855; 
Transactions  of  the  London  and  Middlesex  Archteologieat  Society.  Svo,  1860-82; 
James  E.  Hai-ting.  The  Birds  of  Middlesex,  Svo,  London,  1866  ;  Henry  Trimca 
and  W.  T.  -Thiselton  Dyer,  Flora  of  Middlesex,  Svo,  London,  1869 ;  William 
Hughes,  27ie  Geography  of  Middletex  for  the  use  of  schools.  12mo.  London,  1872; 
William  Lawson,  Collins' s  County  Geographies  (Middlesex).  8ro.  1872;  The 
Geography  of  the  Counties  of  England  and  Wales  (No.  10,  Mid.lleaexl,  8vo.  Mm- 
Chester,  1872 ;  W.  E.  Baxter,  The  Domesday  Book  for  the  County  of  Middlesex, 
being  that  portion  of  a  Return  of  Omers  of  Land  in  England  and  Waits  in  1873 
iehich  refers  to  Middlestx.  4to,  Lewes,  1877.  (H.  B.  W.^ 


(It  Is  boUeved)  from  Nortliamptonshlre.  Yorkshire  was  taken  from  Kortbumbria, 
Lancaahire  fiom  Cumbria,  and,  Uat  of  all,  Uonmouthshire  fioni  Walea,  by  au 
Act  of  Henry  Vlll.'a  t^iga. 

4  Pp.  188-49,  and  note. 

0  Ur  Comer  i;lre«  the  number  of  bistaaccs  b«  baa  found  at  alxtrcn. 


282 


il  1  D  D  L  E  T  O  JN 


MIDDLETON,  a  market  and  manufacturing  lovm  of 
I^ncashire,  is  situated  on  the  Irk,  near  tlie  Rochdale 
Canal,  and  on  the  Lancashire  and  Yorkshire  Railway, 
about  5  miles  north  of  Manchester  and  i  v'cst  of  Oldham. 
It  includes  the  township  of  Tonge,  an  isolated  portion  of 
the  parish  of  Prestwich.  The  church  of  St  Leonards  is  an 
old  structure  of  mixed  architecture,  with  a  low  square 
tower.  The  oldest  portion  of  the  building  dates  from  the 
12th  century,  but  the  main  portion  from  1412,  and  the 
south  aisle  from  1524.  It  underwent  extensive  restoration 
in  1869.  The  Queen  Elizabeth  Grammar  School,  a  build- 
ing in  the  Tudor  style,  was  founded  in  1572.  There  are 
public  baths  and  a  free  library.  The  prosperity  of  the  town 
dates  from  the  introduction  of  manufactures  at  the  close  of 
last  century.  The  staple  trade  is  the  spinning  and  weaving 
of  cotton,  and  the  other  industries  include  silk  weaving, 
calico  printing,  bleaching,  dyeing,  ironfoundmg,  and  the 
manufacture  of  soap  and  chemicals.  There  are  several 
collieries  in  the  neighbourhood.  The  town  was  at  an  early 
l)eriod  in  possession  of  the  Bartons,  from  whom  it  passed 
by  marriage  in  the  IGth  century  to  Sir  Ralph  de  Assheton. 
The  population  of  the  urban  sanitary  district  of  Middleton 
»nd  Tonge  in  1881  was  18,952. 

MIDDLETON,  Conyers  (1683-1750),  the  earliest  and 
most  eminent  example  of  the  .spirit  of  theological  rational- 
ism in  the  English  Church  of  the  18th  century,  was  the 
son  of  the  rector  of  Hinderwell  near  Whitby,  and  was  born 
at  Richmond  in  Yorkshire,  on  December  27  (or,  Recording 
to  another  account,  on  August  3),  1683.  He  graduated  at 
Cambridge,  took  orders,  and  in  1706  obtained  a  fellowship, 
which  he  soon  resigned  iipon  contracting  an  advantageous 
marriage.  In  1717  a  dispute  with  Bentley,  upon  an 
extortionate  demand  of  the  latter  on  occasion  of  Middleton's 
being  created  D.D.,  involved  him  in  an  acrimonious  con- 
troversy, which  called  forth  several  pamphlets  from  his 
pen  full  of  powerful  invective,  and  among  them  his  first 
^considerable  literary  performances,  the  Jiemarks  and 
'Fuiiker  Hemarh  on  Bentley 's  Proposals  for  a  Keiv  Edition 
cf  the  Greek  Testament  (1721).  "You  have  laid  Bentley 
flat  upon  his  back,"  wrote  Colbatch.  "  I  scorn  to  read 
what  the  rascal  has  written,"  wrote  Bentley, — who,  how- 
ever, only  resorted  to  this  affected  disdain  after  a  fruitless 
attempt  to  fix  the  authorship  upon  Colbatch,  but  who 
might  justly  have  commented  upon  the  impropriety  of 
Middleton's  endeavour  to  visit  his  grievances  ujjon  the  text 
of  the  New  Testament.  Private  resentment  and  uncurbed 
[lersonality  were  throughout  his  life  too  frequently  the 
motive  and  the  note  of  iliddleton's  controversial  jmblica- 
tions.  In  1723  he  was  involved  in  a  lawsuit  by  person- 
alities against  Bentley,  which  had  found  their  way  into 
his  otherwise  judicious  tract  on  library  administration, 
written  on  occasion  of  his  appointment  to  the  honourable 
office  of  university  librarian.  In  1726  he  gave  great 
offence  to  the  medical  profession  by  a  dissertation  contend- 
ing that  the  healing  art  among  the  ancients  was  only 
exercised  by  slaves  or  freedmen.  Between  the  dates  of 
these  publications  he  visited  Italy,  and  made  those  observa- 
tions on  the  pagan  pedigree  of  Italian  superstitions  which 
he  subsequently  embodied  in  his  Letter  from  A'ome  (1729). 
This  cogent  tract,  wliilo  establishing  the  author's  main 
'proposition  with  abundant  learning  and  wit,  gave  at  the 
same  time  the  first  clear  indication  of  theanti-.sup'^rnatural- 
istic  bias  of  his  intellect,  and  probably  contriouted  to 
prepare  the  storm  which  broke  out  against  him  on  his  next 
publication  (1731).  In  his  remonstrance  with  AVaterland 
en  occasion  of  the  latter's  reply  to  Tindal's  C/tristianily  as 
Old  as  the  Creation,  Middleton  takes  a  line  which  in  his 
'day  could  hardly  fail  to  cxjjose  him  to  the  reproach  of 
infidelity.  He  gives  up  the  literal  truth  of  (he  primeval 
Mosaic  narratives ;  and,  in  professing  to  indicate  a  short 


and  ea«y  method  of  confuting  Tindal,  lays  principal  stress 
on  the  indispensalSleness  of  Christianity  as  a  mainstay  of 
social  order.  This  was  to  resign  nearly  everything  that 
divines  of  the  Waterland  stamp  thought  worth  defending.' 
Middleton  was  warmly  assailed  from  many  quarters,  and 
retreated  with  some  difficulty  under  cover  of  a  sheaf  of 
apologetic  pamphlets,  and  a  more  regular  attendance  at 
church.  A  freethinker  in  the  strict  sense  of  the  term  he 
certainly  was ;  but  how  far  freedom  of  thought  was  carried 
by  him  it  is  not  easy  to  ascertain.  His  adversaries — some 
of  them  men  who  gravely  maintained  that  Eg)-ptian 
civilization  originated  in  the  age  of  Solomon— were  unable 
to  fix  any  serious  imputation  upon  him  ;  on  the  other  hand 
it  is  clear  that  the  natural  attitude  of  his  mind  towards 
supernatural  pretensions  was  one  of  suspicion,  and  that  his 
temperament  was  by  no  means  devout.  That  he  was 
nevertheless  not  incapable  of  a  disinterested  hero-worship 
was  evinced  by  his  next  important  publication,  the  elegant 
but  partial  Life  of  Cicero  (1741),  a  work  which,  if  far 
below  the  standard  of  modern  exactness,  may  yet  compare 
in  spirit  and  execution  with  the  best  jjroductions  of  the 
Italian  Renaissance.  It  is,  indeed,  as  remarked  by 
Forsyth,  "  rather  an  historical  composition,  in  which 
Cicero  is  the  jirincipal  figure,  than  the  portrait  of  the  man 
himself";  and  Dr  Parr  has  pointed  out  Middleton's 
unacknowledged  obligations  to  the  forgotten  EcUendenua, 
which,  however,  with  the  ardour  of  a  discoverer,  he  seems 
to  have  considerably  overrated.  The  work  was  undertaken 
at  the  instance  of  Lord  Hervey,  in  correspondence  with 
whom  also  originated  his  disquisition  on  The  Roman 
Senate,  published  in  1747.  The  same  year  and  the  follow- 
ing produced  the  most  important  of  all  his  writings,  the 
Introductory  Discourse  and  the  Free  Inquiry  concerning 
the  miraculous  powers  then  commonly  deemed  to  have 
subsisted  in  the  church  after  the  apostolic  age.  In  com- 
bating this  belief  Middleton  indirectly  established  two  pro- 
positions of  capital  importance.  He  showed  that  ecclesi- 
astical miracles  must  be  accepted  or  rejected  in  the  mass; 
and  he  distinguished  between  the  authority  due  to  the 
early  fathers'  testimony  to  the  beliefs  and  practices  of  their 
times  and  their  very  .slender  credibility  as  witnesses  to 
matters  of  fact.  Some  individual  grudge  seems  to  have 
prompted  him  to  expose,  in  1750,  Bishop  Sherlock's 
eccentric  notions  of  antediluvian  prophecy,  which  had  then 
been  before  the  world  for  a  quarter  of  a  century.  The 
same  year  he  died  of  a  declijie  at  his  seat  at  Hildesham  in 
Cambridgeshire,  leaving  a  widow,  but  no  children. 

WidJlcton's  most  ambitious  woik  is  obsoleto  from  no  fault  of 
his,  but  his  controversial  writings  retain  a  permanent  place  in  the 
history  of  opinion.  In  liis  moi-e  restricted  sphere  he  iiray  not  in- 
appropriately be  compared  to  Lessing.  Like  Lcssing's,  the  diaracter 
of  his  intellect  was  captious  and  iconoclastic,  but  redeemed  from 
mere  negation  by  a  passion  for  abstract  truth,  too  apt  to  slumber 
until  called  into  activity  by  some  merely  personal  stimulus.  Hia 
diction  is  generally  miksculine  and  harmonious.  Pope  thought  him 
and  Hookc  the  only  prose  writers  of  the  day  who  deserved  to  he 
cited  as  authorities  on  tlie  language.  Parr,  while  exposing  hia 
l)lagiarisnis,  heaps  encomiums  on  Lis  style.  But  his  best  qualities, 
his  impatience  of  superstition  and  disdain  of  mere  external 
authority,  arc  rather  moral  than  literary.  As  a  scholar  lie  is  rather 
elegant  than  j^rofound;  as  a  controversialist  he  has  more  vigour  than 
urbanity,  and  more  wit  than  humour.  He  has  been  unjustly 
attacked  liotli  as  nutlior  aiid  as  man  by  De  Quincey,  who  strangely 
accuses  his  stylo  of  coUocjuialism,  and  taxes  him  with  eating  tha 
church's  bread  while  denving  her  doctrines.  In  fact  Middleton's 
private  means  were  ample,  his  ecclesiastical  emoluments  tiitling, 
ond  his  candour  obstructed  his  path  to  much  more  considerable  pre- 
ferment The  best  general  view  of  his  intellectual  character  end 
influence  is  to  bo  found  in  Leslie  Stephen's  Ent/Iisli  Thought  in  Uu 
Eiglilicnth  Ceittunj,  chap.  vi.  A  handsome  edition  of  his  works, 
containing  several  posthumous  tracts,  but  not  including  the  Lift 
0/ Cicero,  appeared  m  1752. 

MIDDLETON,  TnoM.w  (r.  1570-1627),  held  a  leading 
place  among  the  dramatists  of  the  reign  of  James  I.     His 


M  I  D  — M  I  D 


28c 


popularity  would  seem  tohave  first  come  to  a  height  about 
1607.  This  is  a  fair  inference  from  the  fact  that  in  this 
and  the  folloiving  year  a  whole  swarm  of  comedies  from 
his  pen  were  licensed  and  published — A  Trick  to  Catch  the 
Old  One,  The  Family  of  Love,  The  Phoenix,  Michaelmas 
Term,  Your  Five  Gallants,  A  Mad  World  My  Masters. 
Only  the  first  of  these  kept  the  stage  after  the  author's 
own  generation,  though  in  point  of  wit  and  constructive 
skill  it  is  not  superior  to  The  Phomix  (a  serious  comedy)  or 
Tour  Five  Gallants  (a  bustling  and  gaily  humorous  farcical 
comedy).  The  plot  of  the  Ti-ick  bears  a  family  likeness 
to  that  of  Massinger's  Neio  Way  to  Pay  Old  Debts;  the 
titles  in  fact  might  be  interchanged.  A  ruined  scapegrace 
outwits  his  creditors  and  a  usurious  uncle  by  coming  to 
town  with  a  courtesan  and  passing  her  off  as  a  widow  with 
a  fortune,  whom  he  treats  with  deferential  friendship,  but 
hardly  dares  to  love,  ruined  and  hopeless  as  he  is.  His 
uncle  lends  him  money  that  he  may  woo  in  proper  state ; 
his  creditors  also  intrigue  to  have  the  honour  of  supplying 
him  with  all  the  needs  of  fashion  ;  and  the  lady  receives 
many  costly  presents  from  aspirants  to  her  hand  and 
fortune.  Though  Middleton  was  apparently  not  in  high 
popidarity  till  1607,  he  had  made  his  debut  as  a  satirist 
ten  years  before;  and  if  ilalone  is  right  in  his  conjecture 
that  the  Mayor  of  Queensboi-ouffh  is  identical,  with  the 
JRantlall  Earle  of  Chester  mentioned  by  Henslowe  in  1602, 
he  had  done  dramatic  work  of  a  much  higher  kind.  Like 
The  Chan^eliny,  a  later  production,  in  which  Middleton 
had  the  assistance  of  Rowley,  the  tragedy  of  the  Mayor  is 
named  after  a  character  in  the  insignificant  comic  underplot. 
Such  a  title  scares  away  readers  weary  of  half-intelligible 
Elizabethan  fun  and  satire;  but  Simon  the  comic  mayor 
is  a  very  subordinate  figure  in  the  play,  and  the  tragic 
portions  alike  in  situation,  characterization,  and  language 
rank  among  the  very  noblest  productions  of  the  Shake- 
spearian age.  There  are  scenes  in  the  Changeling  also 
which  Mr  Swinburne,  with  a  judgment  that  will  not  be 
disputed,  assigns  to  Middleton,  unsurpassed  for  intensity 
oi  passion  and  appalling  surprises  in  the  whole  range  of 
Elizabi  than  literature.  The  execution  of  these  scenes  is 
I'ar  beyond  any  power  that  Rowley  showed  in  single-handed 
work,  but  well  within  the  scope  of  the  author  of  the 
Mayor  of  Queenshorough  and  Wmnen  Beware  Women. 
This  la.st  play,  in  which  every  one  of  the  characters 
important  enough  to  be  honoured  with  a  name  perishes  at 
the  end  in  a  slaughter  so  rapid  as  to  be  somewhat  confus- 
ing, was  apparently  one  of  Middleton's  later  works,  and 
the  simple  and  measured  development  of  the  plot  in  the 
first  acts  seems  to  show  traces  of  the  influence  of  Massinger. 
Middbton's  verse,  when  charged  _with  the  expression  of 
impassioned  love,  contains  many  echoes  of  the  verse  of 
Romeo  and  Juliet,  as  if  his  ear  had  been  fascinated  by  it 
in  his  youth.  His  language  generally  proclaims  him  an 
admiring  disciple  of  Shakespeare's;  and  in  daring  and 
happy  concentration  of  imagery,  and  a  certain  imperial 
confidence  in  the  use  of  words,  he  of  all  the  dramatists  of 
that  time  is  the  disciple  that  comes  nearest  the  master. 
The  Witch,  by  which  Middleton's  name  has  of  late  been 
linked  with  Shakespeare's  in  groundless  speculation  as 
being  part  author  of  Macbeth,  is  by  no  means  one  of 
Middleton's  best  plays.  The  plot  is  both  intricate  and 
feeble,  as  if  the  play  had  been  written  with  a  view  to  the 
half-comic  spectacular  exhibition  of  the  witches,  with  their 
ribald  revelry,  their  cauldrons,  hideous  spells,  and  weird 
incantations.  Charles  Lamb's  comparison  of  Middleton's 
witches  with  Shakespeare's  is  one  of  the  most  exquisite 
morsels  of  criticism ;  but,  when  he  says  that  Middleton's 
witches  are  "  in  a  lesser  degree  fine  creations,"  he  ought 
perhaps  to  have  added  that  they  are  merely  embodiments 
of  the   vulgar   superstition,  put  on  the  stage   to   excite 


laughter  rather  than  fear  among  a  half-believing  audience, 
an  audience  ready  to  laugh  at  them  in  the  light  and  in  a 
crowded  meeting,  whatever  each  might  do  in  the  dark 
alone.  That  Middleton  had  any  share  in  Macbeth  ia  a 
conjecture  resting  solely  on  the  fact  that  the  opening 
words  of  the  song  of  the  witches  about  the  cauldron  in 
Shakespeare's  Macbeth  occur  alio  in  the  incantations  about 
a  cauldron  in  the  last  act  of  Middleton's  Witch,  and 
that  Middleton's  song  was  inserted  by  Davenant  in  an 
"  amended  "  reproduction  of  Macbeth.  If  either  borrowed 
the  words  of  this  song  from  the  other,  that  is  no  evidence 
of  further  co-operation ;  besides  all  that  is  common  to  the 
two  was  probably  as  much  public  property  as  a  nursery 
rhyme.  There  is  no  evidence  as  to  whether  The  Witch 
appeared  before  or  after  Macbeth.  Middleton  co-operated 
with  Dekker  in  the  Roariyig  Girl ;  with  Rowley  in  A  Fair 
Quarrel,  The  Spanish  Gipsy,  and  The  Changeling;  and 
with  Jonson  and  Fletcher  in  The  Widow  (one  of  the  few 
of  Middleton's  plays  reproduced  after  the  Restoration^ 
Towards  the  close  of  his  life  Middleton  got  into  difficulties 
with  the  privy  council  from  writing  a  very  clever  political 
play  apropos  of  Prince  Charles's  unsuccessful  wooing  of  the 
Spanish  infanta  in  1623.  The  chief  personages  in  Spanish 
politics  and  their  manoeuvres  were  represented  with  most 
ingenious  skill  in  the  pieces  and  movements  of  A  Game  at 
Chess.  This  play  was  stopped  by  royal  authority,  and  the 
prosecution  of  the  author  was  allowed  quietly  to  dropi 
The  few  animportant  facts  known  in  Middleton's  private 
history  are  collected  in  Mr  Dyce's  admirable  edition  of  his 
plays.  He  enjoyed  the  office  of  city  chronologer,  and  was 
often  employed  to  write  pageants  and-  masques,  in  one  case 
at  least  contracting  for  the  whole  exhibition,  besides  fur- 
nishing, the  words.  He  died  in  1627,  and  was  buried  at 
Newington  Butts. 

MIDDLETOWN,  a  city  and  port  of  entry  of.  the 
United  States,  and  one  of  the  shire  towns  of  Middlesex 
county,  Connecticut,  lies  on  the  right  bank  of  the  Con- 
necticut river,  about  30  miles  from  its  mouth,  directly  oppo- 
site the  well-known  Portland  quarries,  and  24  miles  from 
New  Haven  by  rail.  Built  on  ground  rising  gently  from 
the  river,  with  its  principal  streets  keeping  the  direction  of 
the  valley,  and  the  cross  streets  climbing  the  slope,  Jliddle- 
town  is  a  place  of  considerable  attractiveness,  and  the  views 
from  the  higher  points  are  particularly  fine.  Water  Street, 
with  the  wharves  and  shipping.  Main  Street,  with  the 
commercial  houses  and  hotels,  and  High  Street,  with  its 
mansions  and  gardens  and  trees,  are  the  leading  lines  of 
the  city.  On  the  high  grounds  behind  stand  the  handsome 
buildings  of  the  Wesleyan  (Methodist  Episcopal)  University. 
The  institution,  mainly  organized  by  Wilbur  Fisk,  D.D., 
was  chartered  in  1831.  To  the  two  buildings  with  which 
it  started  have  been  added  Rich  Hall,  with  the  library  of 
about  30,000  volumes,  Judd  Hall,  with  scientific  collections 
of  great  value,  the  Memorial  Chapel,  erected  in  the 
centenary  year  of  American  Methodism,  and  the  Observa- 
tory HalL  Since  1872  the  courses  of  the  university  have 
been  open  to  both  sexes.  In  1882  the  number  of  pro- 
fessors was  20,  and  of  students  191,  including  14  females. 
The  Berkeley  Theological  School  (Main  Street),  founded 
by  the  Episcopal  Church  in  1854,  had  in  1882  7  pro- 
fessors and  41  students,  with  a  library  of  17,000  volumes. 
A  hill  \\  miles  to  the  south-east  of  the  city  is  occujiied  by 
the  State  General  Hospital  for  the  Insane,  the  principal 
building  having  a  frontage  of  768  feet,  and  the  grounds 
extending  to  230"acres;  and  on  another  hill  to  the  south- 
west of  the  city  stands  the  State  industrial  school  for  girls. 
As  vessels  dra\ving  10  feet  of  water  can  reach  its  wharves, 
Middletown  carries  on  a  considerable  trade  by  the  river.  In 
1882  1613  vessels,  with  a  burden  of  240,000  tons,  entered 
the  port,  and  1613  vessels,  with  a  burden  of  350,000  tone, 


284 


M  I  D  — M  I  D 


cleared ;  and  the  Middletewn  district  owned  83  bailing 
Te&sels  and  22  steamers.  Both  the  silver  and- the  lead 
mines  which  were  formerly  worked  in  the  vicinity  have 
been  abandoned,  but  cast-iron,  britannia,  and  silver-plated 
goods,  sewing-machines,  pump?,  webbing,  and  tape  are 
among  the  local  manufactures.  The  population  of  the  city 
increased  from  5182  in  1800  to  C850  in  1880.  First 
settled  in  1G3C,  Middletowu  was  incorporated  as  a  town  in 
1654,  and  as  a  city  in  178i 

MIDDLETO^V^r,  a  manufacturing  village  of  the  Tnited 
States,  in  Walllull  township.  Orange  county,  New  York, 
55  miles  N.N.W.  of  New  'Vork,  at  the  junction  of  four 
railroads.  It  is  a  clean  well  built  place,  in  the  midst  of  a 
fine  dairy-farming  and  stock-raising  district,  manufactures 
saws,  files,  felt  hats,  blankets,  agricultural  implements, 
printers'  materials,  <tc.,  and  is  the  seat  of  the  State 
Homoeopathic  Insane  Asylum.  The  population  was  6049 
in  1870  and  8494  in  1880. 

JIIDHITRST,  an  ancient  parliamentary  borough  and 
market-town  of  Sussex,  is  picturesquely  situated  on  a 
gentle  eminence  above  the  south  bank  of  the  AVest  Pother, 
on  three  railway  lines,  50  miles  south-west  of  London  and 
13  north  from  Chichester.  The  church  of  St  Denis  (re- 
stored in  1881-83)  is  chiefly  Perpendicular  in  style,  but 
the  lower  part  of  the  embattled  tower  is  probably  Norman. 
At  the  grammar  school,  founded  in  1672,  Richard  Cobden 
and  Sir  Charles  Lyell  were  educated.  A  new  public  hall 
was  opened  in  1882.  The  old  castle  of  the  De  Bohuns 
stood  on  a  mound  above  the  river,  now  overgromi  with 
trees.  In  ancient  times  a  commandery  of  the  Knights  of 
St  John  of  Jeriisalem  had  jurisdiction  over  the  district 
now  forming  the  liberty  of  St  John.  The  prosperity  of 
the  town  depends  chiefly  on  agriculture.  A  market  is  held 
weekly,  and  a  fair  three  times  a  year.  The  population  of 
the  parliamentary  borough,  which  has  an  area  of  26,172 
acres,  was  6753  in  1871,  and  7221  in  1881. 

llidlmrst  is  not  mentioned  in  Domcsd.iy,  being  inclndtd  under 
Easebourne.  lu  the  reign  of  Henry  1.  it  w.is  held  by  the  king 
M  a  minor  barony.  In  tlie  time  of  Edward  I.  it  nasscd  into 
the  possession  of  the  De  Bohuns.  From  the  time  of  Edward  II. 
till  1832  it  returned  two  membcra  to  parliament,  but  since  then 
only  one. 

MIDIAN  was  one  of  the  peoples  of  North  Arabia  whom 
the  Hebrews  recognized  as  distant  kinsmen,  representing 
them  as  sons  of  Abraham's  wffe  Keturah.  The  word 
Keturah  means  "  incense ";  thus  the  sons  of  Keturah  are 
the  "  incense-men,"  not  indeed  inhabitants  of  the  far  south 
incense-land,  but  presumably  the  tribes  whose  caravans 
brought  the  incense  to  Palestine  and  the  Mediterranean 
ports.  So  the  Jlidianites  appear  in  connexion  with  the 
gold  and  incense  trade  from  Yemen  (Isa.  Ix.  6),  and  with 
the  trade  between  Egj'pt  and  Syria  (Gen.  x.\xvii.  28,  36). 
At  the  time  of  the  exodus  the  pastures  of  the  Midianites, 
or  of  the  branch  of  Midian  to  which  Moses's  father-in-law 
(Jethro  or  Raguel,  or  Hobab)  belonged,  lay  near  Mount 
Horeb  (Exod.  iii.  1);  and  Num.  x.  29  sq.  implies  that  the 
tribe  was  at  home  in  the  desert  of  the  wanderings.  The 
Kenites,  who,  in  spite  of  their  connexion  with  Amalek  (1 
Sam.  XV.  C),  had  friendly  relations  with  Israel,  and  ulti- 
mately coalesced  with  the  tribe  of  Judali,  are  reiiresented 
in  Judg.  i.  16,  iv.  11  as  the  kin  of  Moses's  father-in-law. 
The  Kenites,  however,  can  have  been  but  one  fraction  ef 
Midian  which  took  a  separate  course  from  their  early 
relations  to  Israel.'  Tlie  main  body  appear  in  Judg.  vi.  as 
a  powerful  Bedouin  confederation,  invading  Canaan  from 
the  eastern  desert,  and  ravaging  the  land  as  similar  tribes 
have  done  in    all  ages   when    Palestine  lacked   a   strong 


y^  The  admixture  of  Midiauite  elements  in  Judah  and  the  other 
border  tribes  of  Uroel  is  conlirmcd  b.v  a  comparison  of  the  names  of 
tko  ilidianile  claus  iu  Geiu  xxv,  4  with  tlie  Hebrew  genealogies 
U  Chreo   ii.  46,  iv.  17,  v.  24;  Gen.-xlvi.  8). 


government.  VTith  their  defeat  by  Gideon  and  another 
defeat  by  the  Etloniites  in  the  field  of  Moab,  probably 
about  the  same  time  (Gen.  ixxvi.  35),  the  recorded  history 
of  Midian  closes. 

A  pl.ice  Iilidian  is  mentioned  1  Kings  xi.  18,  nud  in  later  timoa 
the  name  lingered  in  the  district  east  of  the  Gulf  of 'Akaba,  where 
Euscbius  knows  a  city  Madinn  in  the  country  of  the  S.iracc-ns  and 
Ptolemy  places  ilodiana.'  Still  later  JIadyan  was  n  station  on  tlio 
pilgrim  route  from  Kgypt  to  Jlecca,  the  second  beyond  Aila  (Elath). 
Here  iu  the  Jliddlc  Ages  w.is  shown  the  well  from  whi.li  Mo$« 
watered  the  flocks  of  Sho'aib  (Jcthio),  and  the  place  is  still  known 
as  "the  caves  of  Sho-aib."  It  has  considerable  niins,  which  hare 
been  described  by  Kiippcll  {Ficisai,  1829)  and  Kurton  (Land  of 
Mkiimi,  1879). 

MIDNAPUR,  a  district  in  the  lieutenant-governorship 
of  Bengal,  India,  between  21°  37'  and  22°- 57'  N.  lat.,  and 
between  86°  35'  45"  and  88°  14'  E.  long.,  is  bounded  on 
the  N.  by  B.-inkurd  and  Bardwdn,  on  the  E.  by  Hooghly 
and  Howrah,  on  the  S.  by  the  Bay  of  Bengal,  and  on  the 
W.  by  Singbhiim  and  Mdnbhilm,  with  an  area  of  5082 
square  miles.  Its  general  appearance  is  that  of  a  large 
open  plain,  of  which  the  greater  part  is  under  cultivation. 
In  the  northern  portion  the  soil  is  poor,  and  there  is  little 
wood.  The  country  along  the  western  boundary,  known 
as  the  Jungle  Mah.'lls,  is  undulating  <and  picturesque ;  it 
is  almost  uninhabited.  The  eastern  and  south-eastern 
portions  are  swampy  and  richly  cultivated.  The  chief 
rivers  of  the  district  are  the  Hooghly  and  its  three  tribu- 
taries, the  Riipn.-ir.^yan,  the  Haldi,  and  the  Rasulpur. 
The  Midnapur  high-level  canal  runs  almost  due  east  and 
west  from  the  town  of  Jlidnainir  to  Ulubariii  on  the 
Hooghly  16  miles  below  Calcutta,  and  affords  a  continuous 
navigable  channel  53  miles  in  length.  There  is  aUo 
a  tidal  canal  for  navigation,  26  miles  in  length,  extend- 
ing from  the  Riipndrdyan  river.  The  jungles  in  the 
west  of  the.  district  yield  lac,  tasar  silk,  wax,  resin,  fire- 
wood, charcoal,  ic,  and  give  shelter  to  large  and  small 
game. 

The  census  of  1872  rctunied  the  population  of  Jlidnapur  al 
2,540,963  (1,257,194  males  and  1,283,769  females),  including  only 
1-22  Europeans  and  157,030  Jilohammcdans.  The  aboriginal  tribes 
belong  chiefly  to  the  jungles  and  hills  of  Chuti.i  Kagjmr  and  Ban- 
kur.i;  the  most  nunicrons  of  thcni  arc  Snnt.ils  (96,921)  and  Uhuniijs 
(35,344).  Of  liigh-cnstc  Hindus  the  returns  show  136,500;  and  tht 
number  of  Kayasths  is  given  as  101,663.  Among  the  semi-Hindu- 
ized  aborigines,  the  most  numerous  arc  the  Bagdis,  a  tribe  of  culti- 
vators, fishermen,  and  day-labourers  (76,825).  Belonging  to  ogri- 
cultural  cnsti'S  tliere  are  1,018, 6S6.  The  four  municipalities  are 
Midnai.ur  (31,491),  Ch.iudrakona  (21,311),  Chatal  (15,4921.  and 
Tamliik  (5849).  Kice  is  the  staple  crop.  Irrigation  is  ell'ected 
chiefly  from  the  high-level  canal.  Kent  rates  vary  frnm  lO^d.  an 
acre  for  the  poorest  quality  of  rice  land  to  18s.  an  acre  for  the  l>c«t 
irrigable  lands.  The  district  sufTcis  occasionally  from  drought  ; 
AockIs  are  common,  and  very  disastrous  in  their  results.  -The  prin- 
cipal exports  are  rice,  silk,  and  sugar  ;  and  the  chief  imports  con- 
sist of  cotton  cloth  aud  twist.  Salt,  indigo,  silk,  mats,  and  bnsa 
and  copiH-r  utensils  are  manufactiueil.  Apail  from  the  rivers,  com- 
munication is  alTordcd  by  482  mih  s  of  road.  The  total  revenue  in 
1870-71  w-.as  £$62,578,  and  the  cx|>enditurc  £53,777.  The  pre- 
vailing diseases  ait  fever,  diarrhrca,  dysentery,  and  cholera.  The 
average  mean  tcniperaturc  is  80°  Fain.,  and'  the  average  annual 
rainfall  C6  inches. 

The  tnrlv  history  of  Slidnapur  centres  ronnd  (he  ancient  town  of 
Tambik,  which  in  the  beginning  of  tlie  5th  century  was  an  ini)>oi-t- 
ant  Hnddhist  settlement  and  maritime  harbour.  The  Unit  con- 
ncNion  of  the  English  with  the  district  dates  from  1760,  wIku  Jlir 
K.isim  ceded  to  the  East  India  Company  Jlidnapur,  Cliittagong, 
and  Bardw.in  (then  estimated  to  furnish  one-thir.1  of  the  eiitin- 
revenue  of  Ccngil)  as  the  price  of  his  elevation  to  lh«  throne  of 
Beng.il  on  the  dejiosition  oI^Mir  Jafar. 

MiDX.vprR,  chief  town  and  headquarters  station  of  th« 
alx)ve  district,  is  situated  on  the  north  bank  of  the  Kasdi 
river,  with  a  population  in  1872  of  31,491.  The  town  has 
a  large  bd:di;  with  commodious  public  offices.  It  is  healthy, 
dr)-,  and  well  supplied  with  "water.  An  American  mission 
maintains  an  excellent  training  school,  together  with  a 
printing  iwess,  and  has  founded  several  vilhige  schools  in 


M  I  D  —  M  1  D 


285 


•ihe  aistrictT'  Its  efforts  have  been  particularly  successful 
among  the  SantAIs,  and  some  of  the  earliest  and  most 
valuable  works  on  their  language  have  issued  from  the 
Midnapur  mission  press.  A  brisk  manufacture  of  brass 
and  copper  utensils  takes  place  in  the  town ;  it  is  also  the 
centre  of  a  large  indigo  and  silk  industry. 

MIDRASH.  Like  all  nouns  of  a  similar  lorm  Afidroih 
is  the  equivalent  of  the  NijA'al  participle,'  and  as  such 
yields  as  many  modified  meanings  as  the  root  Darosk 
(15^7),  to  search,  A-c,  itself  has.  The  practical  significa- 
tions, however,  of  Midrask,  taken  in  historical  order,  are 
as  follows: — (1)  a  book  of  records;  (2)  a  recension  of 
older,  especially  historical,  materials ;  (3)  search  in  and 
explanation  of  the  Scriptures,  notably  the  Pentateuch  (in 
which  case  the  plural  is  invariably  Jfidrashoth) ;  (4)  theory 
as  distinguished  from  practice ;  ^5)  a  college  for  study 
and  teaching ;  (G)  an  Agadic  (that  is,  a  free)  explanation, 
in  contradistinction  to  an  Jhdiikhic  one  ;  (7)  a  collection 
of  such  free  explanations  (in  which  case  the  plural  is 
Midraskim  and  occasionally  also  Midrashoth).  Of  these 
seven  significations  (1)  and  (2)  are  to  be  found  in  the  Bible,^ 
(3)  and  (4)  are  mentioned  for  the  first  time  in  the  Misfi- 
nnh,'  (5)  is  to  be  met  with  in  the  Midrask,*  while  (6)  and 
(7)  are  to  be  found  in  early  Rabbinic  writings.^ 

The  subject  of  this  article  will  be — (1)  the  nature  of 
Midinsk  in  the  sense  of  Agndah,  to  the  exclusion  of 
llihdliah  (for  which  see  Mishxab),  and  (2)  the  develop- 
ment of  tliis  ilidrnah  Agndah  into  books  (Midraskim). 

The  thinking  reader  of  the  Scriiitures  cannot  have  failed 
to  observe  that  by  the  side  of  their  ceremonial  element,  be 
it' negative  or  affirmative,  permissive  or  jussive,  there  is 
also  often  to  be  mot  with  (and  sometimes  so  as  to  be  insepar- 
able from  it)  a  spiritual  element.  This  spiritual  element 
rests  chiefly  on  feeling  or  emotion,  and  produces  pious 
works  only  indirectly.  Now  the  exiilanation  or  application 
of  this  element,  either  by  the  Scriptures  themselves  or  by 
the  rabbis,  is  traditionally  called  Midraxk  Ihigc/adah 
(recitation,  preaching)  or  3/idrnsk  Agadah  '  (binding  the 
soul  to  God  and  all  that  is  godly). 

This  Iliigijitdnh  or  Agndnk  varies  considerably  both  in 
nature  and  form.  In  its  nature  it  sometimes  humours,  at 
other  times  threatens ;  it  alternately  promises  and  admon- 
ishes, persuades. and  rebukes,  encourages  and  deters.  In 
the  end  it  alwaj-s  consoles,  and  throughout  it  instructs  and 
elevates.  In  form  it  is  legendary,  historical,  exegetic, 
didactic,  theosophic,  epigrammatic ;  but  throughout  it  is 
ethical. 

And  varied  as  was  and  is  the  Midrnxh  Agndak,  so  varied 
have  been  its  fortunes.  \Vhilst  at  times  it  stood  very 
high  in  the  estimation  both  of  the  teachers  and  the  con- 
gregatioP3  in  Israel,'  it  sank  at  other  times  very  low 
indeed."     iv'ay,  at   one   and  the  same  time,  whilst  some 


'  Conip.  Xeheni.  viii.  8,  where  NTpD3  evi.lently  stands  fer  ^<^p^n. 
See  nl.io  Kinilii  on  2  Cliron.  xiii.  22.  and  Schiller-Bzinessy,  E:ciJOsUloii. 
&c.,  C.-imi)rii1gc  1882,  p.  11.  '  2  CDiuo.  liii.  22  and  xiiv.  27. 

'  See  Sclnrim,  iv.  3,  unci  Jboth,  i.  17 

*  Dcrohlth  nabhih,  c.  Ixiii.  (on  Gen.  xxv.  22):  n:^'!^  K^  N^HI 
,  •  •  -\ySi\  Dt;'>  ^C  lE'^^Db  N^N-  ^Ii<lra$h  is  nse<l  in  the  East  to  this 
day  lor  Drth  Jlammidrash.  See  MS.  Oo.  6,  63  (of  the  University 
Libr.iry,  O.imbri.lgc),  leaf  135a,  lower  margin  (itJ'TTD^  ^-[p  DDI 
■••  Debts'). 

'  Raslii  (f.j.,  on  Gen.  iii.  8)  nnd  Tosophalh,  passim. 

'  Tliose  who  identify  this  word  as  merely  the  Chaldaic  fonn  of  the 
Hebrew  Ilafja/aflth  (and  they  have,  certainly,  some  authority  on  their 
Hide)  ought  to  write  It  Aggadnh  [n']^^'i,  which,  however,  is  not  the 
traditional  spelling  of  it  (iTJJSl.  Singularly  enough,  the  Latin  religio 
is  similarly  derived  by  some  from  rrllfjare  and  by  others  from  rfliijrre. 

'  Siphcrt  on  Deut.  §  49  :  "  If  thou  wishest  to  know  Him  who  but 
spak*  and  the  world  came  into  being,  leam  llogr,adah ;  for  by  so  doing 
thou  wilt  recognize  the  Holy  One  (blessed  be  He  I)  and  cling io  Hii 
Trays ! "' 

•T.  Y.,  itastroth,  Ui.  4:  "  Ami  R.  Ze'erah  was  teasing  those  rabbis 
cf  the  Agadah." 


rabbis  exalted  it  to  the  skies,'  other  rabbis  treated  it? 
with  hatred,'"  or,  worse  still,  with  contempt."  There  have 
actually  been  teachers  whose  treatment.  o£  iC  Jifferea  with 
the  difierence  of  the  occasion.''  The  fact  is  the  Jews 
liked  or  disliked  the  Midraeh  Agadah  according  to  their 
political  condition  on  the  one  hand  and  their  proximity 
to  Jewish  professors  of  Christianity  on  the  other.  In  the 
hour  of  prosperity  the  Jews  preferred  the  Hatahkak ; " 
in  that  of  adversity  they  ran  to  hear  the  consoling  words 
of  the  Agadah.^*  When  near  Judseo-Christians,  wbosa 
religious  strength  and  argimient  chiefly  rested  on  Agadah,^ 
the  Jews  disliked  it ;  when  among  themselves,  or  when 
dwelling  among  Gentiles  (heathen  or  Christian),  they 
showed  their  wonted  partiality  for  it. 

But,  whatever  were  the  likings  or  dislikings  of  the  Jew* 
for  the  Midrashot/i,  it  is  certain  that  these  traditions  were 
early '"  committed  to  writing,  and  formed  into  sjjecial 
volumes,  known  as  "  Books  of  Agadah."  "  Such  were  first 
some  of  the  Targunwn  and  then  the  Midrashiin.  Against 
writing  down  the  traditional  exijlanations  of  the  Jlosaic 
ceremonial  there  existed  a  distinct  law,"  which  was  observed 
down  to  near  the  end  of  the  6th  century.  At  an  earlier 
period  isolated  disciples  only,  in  order  to  refresh  their 
memory,  wrote  down  short  Halakhic  notes,  which,  how- 
ever, they  kept  in  secret."  The  Tavguviim  and  Midrashiin, 
on  the  other  hand,  were  composed  very  early  and  were 
numerous,  while  their  extensive  contents  were  circulated 
in  public. 

The  Midrash,  from  whatever  point  of  view  it  may  be 
regarded,  is  of  the  highest  value.  It  is  of  the  highest 
value,  of  course,  to  the  Jew  as  Jew  first,  inasmuch  as  ha 
finds  there  recorded  the  noblest  ideas,  sayings,  and  teach- 
ings of  his  venerable  sages  of  early  times.  In  the  next 
place  it  has  value  to  the  Christian  as  Christian,  since  only 
by  these  ideas,  teachings,  reasonings,  and  descriptions  can 
the  beautiful  sayings  of  the  Founder  of  Christianity,  th« 
reasonings  of  the  apoitles,  and  the  imagery  of  the  sublime 
but  enigmatic  Apocalypse  be  rightly  understood.  But  its 
importance  appeals  albo  to  the  general  scholar,  because  of 
the  inexhaustible  mines  of  information  of  all  kinds  it  con- 
tains. The  philologist  will  find  here  numerous  hints  on  lexi- 
cography and  grammar,  chiefly,  of  course,  of  the  Semitic 
languages,  but  also  of  other  tongues,  notably  Greek  ar.d 
Latin.  The  historian  will  gather  here  a  rich  harvest  oa 
geography,  chorography,  topography,  chronology,  numis- 
matics, itc.     The  philosopher  will  find  here  abimdant  and 

'  foid.:  "Then  s.aid  to  him  R.  Bo  b.ir  [.son  of]  Kohano,  Why  dost 
thou  tease  them  ?     Ask,  and  they  will  surely  answer  thee  ! " 

"T.  Y.,  Slwbbalh,  x\±  1:  "  He  who  holds  it  forth  becomes  burned 
by  it ;  he  who  listens  to  it  gets  no  reward." 

"  Ibid.:  *'  I  never  in  my  life  looked  into  Agadic  books." 

'^  Ibid.:  "Let  the  hand  of  him  who  wrote  it  bo  cutoff";  and  com- 
pare with  this  T.  B,,  Jioho  Diilhro,  1236:  "goodly  pearl." 

"Beginning  of  Pesil'dho  J3nhoi'esh  J/asshdislii :  "  First  when  the 
money  was  at  hand  one  de.Mred  to  hear  the  woixl  of  the  iliahnah  and 
the  word  of  the  Talmud.  .  .  ." 

^*  Ibid.:  "  Xow,  however,  when  the  money  is  not  to  be  got,  and, 
moreover,  when  we  are  sick  in  consequence  of  the  (treatment  by  the) 
government,  one  pines  for  the  word  of  the  Bible  and  for  the  woi-d  of 
the  Agadah.'^ 

"  T.  Y.,  Khahhnth,  xvi,  1,  and  T.  B.,  Shaliaih,  116a  :  "The  Evan- 
gelia  and  other  Christian  writings." 

**  See  Tosephto  Shabbath,  xiv. :  "  I  remember  that  one  brought  before 
Rabbai  Gamliel  the  elder  [St  Paul's  teacher]  the  book  of  Job  (in  the) 
Chaldaic  paraphrase";  and  T.  Y.,  Kilayim,  ix.  i:  "At  that  time  I 
ran  (my)  eyes  through  the  whole  Book  of  the  Psalms  (in  the  form)  of, 
the  Ilnggadah  [Agadah  of  the  Psalms],"  K.  Biyya  Rubboh  belonged 
to  the  middle  of  the  2d  Christian  century. 

'"  NmJST  »1ED-  See  T.  B.,  BeraUwCh.  23a.  Temurah,  Ub,  and 
the  Tatmndi7n,  pajisim. 

"  T.  B. ,  Giain,  606 :  "  j  n  the  college  of  R.  Yishm'ael  it  was  taught. 
These  [see  Exod.  x.xxiv.  27]  thou  oughtest  to  write  do^vn,  bnt  thou 
must  not  write  down  Ifalakhoth.'  " 

"  T.B..  Shalbath,  66:  "  I  found  a  'seci-et  roll,"'  that  i«,  a  roU  of 
Halakhoth  kept  secret.     Comp.  Bashi.  t»  loco. 


286 


M  I  D  R  A  S  H 


valuable  notices  on  logic,  psychology,  metaphysics,  theo- 
logy, theosophy,  aesthetics,  rhetoric,  poetry,  mathematics, 
geometry,  astronomy,  zoology,  botany,  biology,  morphology, 
chemistry,  medicine,  physics,  &c.  The  statesman — parti- 
cnlarly  if  he  be  inclined  to  follow  the  Psalmist's  advice — 
"from  the  ancients  I  gather  understanding "  (cxix.  100) — 
will  find  here  valuable  information  on  ancient  ethnography 
in  the  full  sense  of  the  term — politics,  political  economy, 
law,  military  science,  naval  affairs,  ic.  The  true  scholar 
will  find  out  by  the  study  of  the  Agadak  that  many  a  dis- 
covery thought  to  belong  to  a  recent  age  was  well  known 
to  these  ancient  doctors. 

The  sources  of  the  Agadah  are  five  : — (1)  the  Targumim 
and  especially  those  on  the  Prophets  and  Hagiographa ; 
(2)  the  non-canonical  Mishnah  (Mathnitlio  Boraitho ;  see 
Mishnah),  which  contains  many  valuable  pieces,  the  age 
of  which  is  often  anterior,  in  essence  if  not  in  form,  not 
only  to  those  contained  in  the  canonical  Mishnah,  but 
also  to  the  sayings  of  the  New  Testament ;  (3)  the  canonical 
(officially  recognized)  Mishnah,  which  contains  several 
entire  treatises  of  an  Agadic  nature,  as  Abolh,^  Middolh, 
&c.,^  and  numerous  pieces  scattered  here  and  there  among 
the  Halakhah;  (4)  both  Talmtidim^  (the  Palestinian  and 
Babylonian),  which  have  thousands  of  Agadic  notices 
interspersed  in  their  Halakhoth  ;  and  (5)  the  Midrashim, 
Kar  cfox';!'.  It  is  of  the  last  alone,  as  represented  by  their 
principal  collections,  that  we  give  an  historical  enumeration 
here : — 

(1)  MccjUUilh  Ta'anith  is  an  historical  Midrash  consisting  of 
twelve  Pcrakim,  and  is  called  so  on  tlie  principle  of  btats  a  no)» 
liieendo,  seeing  that  in  it  are  enumerated  tlie  days  of  the  year  on 
which  a  Jew  must  not  fast.  The  Aramaic  part  of  it  alone  cousti- 
tutps  the  real  Megillah,  and  belongs  to  the  beginning  of  the  2d 
Christian  century.'  The  cditio  princcps  came  out  at  llantua,  1613, 
4to  ;  but  cheap  editions  have  been  printed  at  Warsaw  and  elsewhere. 
'  (2)  Scpli£r  ye:irah  is  a  philosophico-cabbalistic  Midrash  divided 
into  six  Peralam,  which,  in  their  turn,  are  siibdivided  into 
Muhniyyoth.  It  is  variously  ascribed  to  the  patriarch  Abraham 
and  to  R.  'Akibah,  the  illustrious  teacher,  who  suffered  martyrdom 
under  Hadrian.  To  this  rabbi  the  book,  no  doubt,  belongs  both  in 
substance  and  form.^  It  has  gone  through  numerous  ediuons,  the 
ed.  print,  being  of  1562  (Mautu.i,  4to),  and  has  been  translated  into 
Latin,  German,  and  English  (New  York,  3877). 

(3)  Othiyyoth  de-Rabbi  'Akibah  is  a  jimji-cabbalistic  Midrash  on 
the  alphabet,  belonging,  in  essence  if  not  in  form,  to  the  aforesaid 
teacher  and  martyr.     £d.  princ,  Constantinople,  1520,  4to. 

(4)  Massckhtth  Eckhahth  is  an  ostronomico-cabbnlistic  Midrash 
in  seven  Pcrakim.     It  is  ascribed  to  I!.  Yislima'el  the  high  priest 

A  >  A  valuable  edition  of  this  trcatjse  (in  Hebrew  and  English)  has 
been  published  by  Dr  C.  Taylor,  Cambridge,  1878. 
'  -  To  these  we  may  add,  for  the  sake  of  convenience,  ajthough  they 
do  not,  strictly  speaking,  belong  to  the  canonical  Mishnah,  the  Pere^ 
Rabbi  Meir  and  the  Agadic.  parts  of  the  Massekhtoth  Ketannoth. 
^  '  Two  collections  of  Talmudic  Ayadoth  were  made  early  in  the  16th 
century:— (I)  Haggadoth  Hallalmud,  Constantinople,  1611,  folio,  of 
which  apparently  only  five  copies  are  in  existence,  the  finest  of  these 
being  preserved  in  the  University  Library  of  Cambridge  ;  and  (2)  'En 
Ya'akob  {or' En  Yisrad),  of  which  numerous  and  cheap  editions  exist, 
the  ed.  princ.  being  that  of  Salonika,  1516-22. 

■  •  Almost  all  that  the  latest  critics  have  said  concerning  the  age  of 
the  various  Sargumim  and  Midrashim  will  have  to  be  unsaid.  Not 
only  are  negative  statements  difficult  of  proof ;  in  this  case  they  are 
ibsolutely  incoiTect.  We  shall  only  give  two  cxanjplcs.  The  state- 
ment "  Vayyikra  liabbah  cannot  be  early,  as  Rashi  did  not  know  of  it, 
since  ho  nowhere  mentions  it,"  is  doubly  incon-ect :  Rashi  does  quote 
it  {e.g.,  on  Haggai  i.  1).  Ag:iin  the  statement  "We  must  not  omit  to 
observe  that  no  early  Jewish  commentator — Rashi,  Ibn  Ezra,  &c. — 
mentions  the  Targum  either  to  Proverbs  or  to  Job  and  Psalms;  Nathan 
nen  Jechiel  (12th  century)  is  the  first  who  quotes  it,"  contains  a  re- 
duetto  ad  absurdum  in  itself.  For  Nathan  b.  Yehicl  was,  as  i.i  well 
known,  a  somewhat  older  conlemjtorary  of  Rashi  {ob.  1105),  and  lived 
full  a  hundred  years  before  Ibn  'Ezra! 

'SeeT.  B.,  SyiiA«iWn,  65S  and  07*.  In  the  former  place  it  distinctly 
speaks  of  the  Sepher  Yezirah  (HTV  IDD),  and,  although  in  the 
latter  place  it  speaks  of  the  Ililekholh  Yejirah  (m'X'  ni3?n),  there 
cannot  be  ■»  doubt  that  Sepher  (1BD)  and  UiUkhoth  (ni37n)  are 
there  identical.  ,  Moreover,  Mishniyyth  and  llalakhoth  are,  in  a  cer. 
tarn  sense,  convertible  terms  (see  JIisaniB) ;  and  our  book  (as 
remarked  abc-e)  consltts  of  itii'.nii'yc(h. 


Judging  from  interpal  evidence  on  the  one  hand,  and  from  what  is 
known  of  K.  Yishma'el  in  the  Talmudim  and  Midrashim  {Baili 
Berakh'Ah,  7a  and  elsewhere)  on  the  other  hand,  there  seems  to  be 
no  valid  reason  for  doubting  that  he  is  the  author  of  this  small  but 
sublime  book.  This  Midrash  is  printed  in  the  collection  Are^ 
Lebanon  (Venice,  1601,  4to)  under  the  title  of  '*  Pireke  Hekhahth" 
and  '^  MasscVuth  Hckhaloth,"  and  a  MS.  of  it  is  preserved  in  the 
University  Library  of  Cambridge  (Dd.  10.  11.  7.  2).  The  work, 
however,  called  "  The  Greater  and  iLe  Lesser  Hckhaloih,"  in  thirty 
Perakim,  printed  in  this  century,  somewhere  in  Poland,  cont^iins, 
besides  the  ancient  literature,  a  good  deal  of  matter  which  is  of 
much  later  date.  ""         ^      --  — '  ~ 

(6)  Seder  'Olam  (the  Greater  and  the  Lesser)  arc  two  historical 
Midrashim,  the  former  of  which  belongs  to  the  2d  century,  whilst 
the  latter  (which  is  a  mere  extract  of  the  former)  belongs  to  a  laUi 
ago  indeed  (the  Goonaic).  They  have  been  repeatedly  printed. 
always  together,  the  ed.  princ.  being  Mantua,  1513,  4to. 

(6)  Haggadah  shcl  Pesah  is  a  litui'gical  Midrash  of  the  middle  of 
the  2d  century,  as  far  as  its  main  portions  go.  It  exists  now  in 
three  principal  and  several  minor  recensions  in  accordance  with  th^ 
various  rituals  (see  IIahzok),  and  is  recited  at  the  domestic  servi'-e 
of  the  first  two  Passover  evenings.  The  editions  are  too  numerous 
to  be  mentioned,  the  ui.  princ.  being  Constantinople,  1505,  fc'.io. 

(7)  MetjiUath  Anlioklios  treats  ostensibly,  as  its  name  ind-cates, 
of  the  suiferings  of  the  Jews  under  Antiochus  Epiphancs,  n^A  their 
deliverance  from  his  tyranny,  but  in  reality  of  their  sufferirgsander 
Hadrian  and  their  deliverance  under  Antoninus  Pius.  Tb^  Aramaic 
text,  with  the  exception  of  a  few  interpolations, belongs  to  che  middle 
ofthe  2d  century.  This  little  "roll"  was  for  the  first  time  published 
by  Filipowsky  (London,  1851,  32mo).  A  MS.  copy  of  the  Hebrei» 
is  iireserved  in  the  University  Library  of  Cambridge  (T'd.  8.  84) 

(8)  Zohar  {Midrash  Hazzohar,  Midrasho  shcl  Rabbi  Shimeon  b. 
Yohai,  Midrash  Yehi  Or,  ic. )  is  a  cabbalistic  Midrash  on  the  Peii- 
tateuch.  Canticles,  Ruth,  and  part  of  Lamentations.  It  is  variously 
ascribed  to  the  famous  R.  Shim' eon  (disciple  of  R.  'Akibah,  4c  )  and 
to  R.  Mosheli  b.  Shemtob  of  Leon  (a  second-rate  cabbalist  of  the 
time  of  Nahmanides  and  Ibn  Addereth).  The  Zoluir  belongs, 
strictly  speaking,  to  neither  of  these,  whilst,  in  a  certain  sense, 
it  belongs  to  both.  The  fact  is — the  nucleus  of  the  book  ia  of 
Mishnic  times,  and  R.  Shim'eon  b.  Yohai  was  the  author  of  the 
Zoliar  in  the  same  .sense  that  R  Yoliatian  was  the  author  of  tbt 
Palestinian  Talmud,  i.e.,  he  gave  the  first  impulse  to  the  comiwsi- 
tion  of  the  book.  But  R.  Mosheh  of  Leon,' on  the  other  hand,  was 
the  firet  not  only  to  copy  and  disseminate  the  Zohar  in  Europt, 
but  also  to  disfigure  it  by  sundiy  explanatory  interpolations.  For 
more  details  see  Lumby,  "Introduction  to  the  Epistle  of  Jude,"  in 
the  Speaker's  Commentary,  vol.  iv.  p.  388.  The  first  two  nlitioDS 
of  the  Zohar  '  on  the  Peutateuch  came  out  simultaneously  (^lanttia, 
1.158-60,  4to,  and  Cremona,  1558,  folio),  and  the  ed.  princ  en 
Canticles,  Ruth,  and  part  of  Lamentations  came  out  at  Saloniki 
(1597,  4to)  The  best,  though  bv  no  means  critical,  edition  on  the 
Pentateuch  is  that  of  Brody,  181^3,  Svo.  Of  translations,  such  tt 
they  are,  there  exist  those  of  Knorrv.  Rosenroth,  Kabbala  dcjitidalm 
(vol.  l,Suizbach,  1677,  and  vol.  ii.,  Frankfort,  1684,  4to),  and 
Tholuck,  Wichligc  Stellen,  kc.  (Berlin,  1824,  Svo),  ic.» 

(9)  Pesikotho'  (commonly,  but  by  mistake,  called  Pesilda) 
dcrab  Kohano  is  a  homiletic  Midrash  consisting  of  thirty-two 
Pcsiktolh  for  the  principal  festivals  and  fasts,  and  the  historically 
noted  sabbaths  and  other  days.  It  is  of  the  end  of  the  3d  or  the 
beginning  of  the  4th  century.  Having  been  but  rarely  quoted 
since   the  12th  century,  so  that  most  scholars  knew  of  it  only 


•  R.  Mosheh  of  Leon  is  a  fair  sample  of  the  mediocrity  of  his  time 
in  cabbalistic  lore,  aud  combined,  as  is  usual,  with  his  nkediocrity  an 
ill imiUble  vanity;  see  MS.  Dd.  11.  22  (Cambridge  University  Librarj), 
leaf  2a:  "  And  1  adjure  every  one  who  should  deeply  study  this  book, 
or  who  should  copy  it,  or  read  it,  that  he  do  not  blot  out  my  name 
from  my  property  (inheritance),  for  I  have  comiwsed  it.  .  .  ,"  Tliit 
statement  alone  would  suffice  to  prove  that  R.  Mosheh  of  Leon  could 
never  have  ascribed  a  book  composed  by  himself  to  anybody  else. 

'  The  Zohar,  cleared  of  the  main  works  by  which  it  is  surrounded, 
and  of  the  interpolations  by  which  it  has  been  disfigured  both  by  its 
first  European  copyist  and  by  others  down  even  to  our  own  days,  wa» 
begun  in  Palestine  late  in  the  2d  or  early  in  the  3d  century,  and 
finished,  at  the  latest,  in  the  6th  or  7th  century.  It  is  impossible 
that  it  should  have  been  composed  after  that  time  and  before  the 
Rcu.iissancc,  as  both  language  and  contents  clearly  show. 

•  Whilst  the  principal  editions  of  the  many  textual  extracts'made 
from  the  Zo/iar  (as  the  Iddctoth,  &e. )  need  not  be  specilied  here,  those 
of  the  following  supplementary  and  kindre'd  works  ought  to  bo  men- 
tionedi— (1)  Tikkmie  llii:z:Jiar  {ed.  princ.  Mantua,  1557,  4to),  and 
(2)  Zohar  Iladaah  {ed.  princ.  Cracow,  1603).  Nor  should  the  Kontra 
mijseplier  }/azxhar,  Hibburo  Tinyono  (by  the  otherwise  very  Icuned 
Yitshak  b.  Mo^hch  of  Sntauow)  b«  passed  over.  It  it  a  mere  imitatio^ 
of  the  Zt'har, — an  imposition  of  a  kind  which  it  a  disgrace  to  literature. 

•  For  the  three  Midmihin—itekhiUo,  Siphro,  and  Siphtre—*el 
under  MisaNan. 


M  I  D  R  A  S  H 


287 


indirectly,  it  was  long  considered  lost,  till,  in  1868,  Salomon  Bnber 
of  Lemberg,  a  man  of  learning,  wealth,  and  love  for  the  ancient 
literature  of  his  nation,  edited  it  from  four  M3S.,  one  of  which 
(formerly  in  possession  of  Carmoly)  is  now  preserved  in  the  Uni- 
Tersity  Librnry  of  Cambridge  (Add.  1497).  The  printed  edition 
appeared  at  Lyck,  8vo. 

(10)  I'esiklo  Rabhathi,  consisting  in  the  latest  edition  of  eighty- 
four  Piskoth,  is  a  Midrash  of  the  same  nature,  and,  in  its  main  part, 
almost  of  the  same  date,  as  (9).  Both  drew  from  the  same  sources. 
This  Midrash  has  been  edited  five  times, — the  latest,  best,  and 
cheapest  edition  being  that  of  Friedmann  (Vienna,  1880,  8vo). 

(11)  Tanna  debe  Eliyijahu  consists  of  two  parts,  the  Greater 
(Rabbo)  aud  the  Lesser  (Zutto), — the  former  in  thirty-one  and  the 
latter  in  twenty-five  Pc'dkim.  It  is  an  exegetical  Midrash,  the 
name  of  which  is  alreaily  known  to  the  Bcrtshith  Rabbah  (c.  liv.) 
and  the  Babylonian  Talmud  {Kelhuboth,  106a).  It  ia  only  un- 
critical criticism  that  can  declare  it  a  Gaonaic  work,  although,  like 
all  other  old  books  of  the  Jews,  it  is  not  without  later  additions. 
£d.  princ.^  Venice,  1598,  4to.  There  are  modem  and  cheap  Polish 
editions. 

(12)  Midrash  Jiabbah  (nil)  or  Rabboth  (nm)  is  chiefly  an 
exegetical  and  homiletical  Midrash  on  the  Pentateuch  and  the 
"Five  Rolls"  {Hamcsh  Megilloth,  i.e..  Canticles,  Ruth,  Lamenta- 
tions, Ecclesiastes,  and  Esther).  It  is  called  Jiabbah  either  from 
the  third  (the  first  distinctive)  word  of  its  beginning  (''VtS'lD  '2T 
-  . .  n31)  or  from  its  being  the  most  voluminous*  Midrash  ;  hence 
also  Rabbo  (N31).  The  Midrash  on  Canticles  (and  Ecclesiastes) 
is  now  and  then  also  c^Wed  Midrash  Ifazithn  (from  the  first  distinc- 
tive word  of  the  beginning  n^TH).  These  ten  Midrashim  are, 
certainly,  of  various  styles  and  ages  ;  yet  none  of  them  is,  inter- 
polation excepted,  later  than  the  beginning  of  the  5th  century.^  It 
IS  remarkable  that,  although  th&Mcgilloth  themselves  had  been  early 
attached  to  the  Pentateuch  (since  they  .were  long  before  the  10th 
century,  and  still  are,  read  through  the  synagogaf  year,  even  as  was 
and  still  is  the  Pentateuch  itselO,  the  Rabboth  had  no  common 
tditio princcps^ — that  on  the  Pentateuch  appearing  for  the  first  time 


'  The  Rabbah  on  Genesis  has  100  Parshiyyoth,  that  on  Exodus  52, 
that  on  Leviticus  37,  that  on  Numbers  23,  and  that  on  Deuteronomy 
11.  These  five  Midrashim  are  quoted  according  to  their  chapters.  The 
Ral^h  on  Canticles  acconmiodates  itself  to  the  sacred  te.\t,  and  is 
quoted  accordingly.  Ruth  has  8  Parshiyyoth,  aud  is  quoted  according 
to  these.  Lamentations  has  1  chapter  consisting  of  33  introductions 
{Pcthihotho  Dehakkime),  accommodating  itself,  for  the  rest,  to  the 
sacred  text.  Ecclesiastes  has  3  Sedarim,  and  Esther  has  6  Parshiyyoth. 
At  various  times  various  mod-^s  of  quoting  these  Midrashim  are 
current, — the  most  common  and  most  expedient,  however,  being  that 
of  quoting  them  acconling  to  the  verses  of  the  Bible. 

*  Here  might  with  advantage  be  mentioned  some  pieces  of  literature 
which  are  kindred  in  nature,  although  some  of  them  are  of  much 
earlier  date,  whilst  others  are  much  later,  than  the  ten  Midrashivi 
just  mentioned: — (1)  Aynduth  Bereshilh  on  Genesis,  in  eighty-three 
chapters, — edited  for  the  first  time  by  R.  Menahem  de  Lonsauo  in  his 
f>hcte  Yadoth,  Venice,  1618,  4to;  (2)  Midrash  Vayyisan  on  Genesis 
XXXV.  5,  in  one  chapter, — to  be  found  in  Jellinek's  Let  hii-Midrasch, 
Leipsic,  1855,  Svo  ;  (3)  amplifications  of  chapter  Ixx.  of  our  Midrash 
Rabbah,  on  Genesis  iiviii.  22,  by  the  incorporation  of  the  whole 
Apocryphon  Tobit  in  Aramaic,  &c.  (see  The  Look  of  Tobit,  kc, 
Oxford,  1878,  Svo)  ;  (4)  Midra.'h  Viiyyosha  on  Exodus  xlv.  30,  xv. 
1-18,— printed  at  Constantinople,  1519,  4to ;  a  MS.  of  this  Midrash 
IS  preserved  in  the  University  Library,  Cambridge  (Add.  85-1)  ;  (5) 
Hidrash  'Ascrcth  Haddibbcrolh  on  Exodus  xx., — printed  in  Jellinek's 
bet  ha-Midrasch,  Leipsic,  1853,  Svo  ;  (6)  Midrash  Pelirath  Aharon 
on  Numbers  ix.  23-29 ;  (7)  Midrash  Peti.nlh  Moshch  on  Deuteronomy 
xxxiv. ;  (8)  Midrash  Abbo  Gorion  on  Esther  ;  the  last  three  are  to  be 
found  in  the  before-meutioned  Bel  ha-Midrasch ;  (9)  Midrash  Shemnd, 
also  called,  from  its  beginning,  'Eth  la'asolh  Ladouai,  Constantinople, 
1517,  folio;  (10)  Midrash  Voiiah,  Prague,  1595,  4to;  (11)  Midrash 
Tdlim  (Tehiltim),  1512;  (12)  .Midrash  Mishele,  1517;  the  last  two 
are  printed  at  Constantinople,  and  in  folio  ;  (13)  Srpher  Ilayyashar 
(in  which  a  good  many  old  traditions  are  preserved,  although  it  is, 
of  course,  not  the  one  mentioned  in  various  books  of  the  BiWe), 
Venice,  1625,  4to ;  (14)  Dibtre  Jlayyaniim  shel  Mosheh,  (ijnstanti- 
nople,  1516,  4to  ;  a  fragment  of  this  is  to  be  found  in  MS.  Add. 
632.  4  in  the  University  Library  of  Cambridge  ;  (15)  Vosephon  (or 
Josippon),  various  works  of  Flavins  Josephus  worked  up  rather  freely, 
Mantua,  1480,  folio,— translated  into  Latin  (German  and  Spanisli) 
•everal  times  ;  (161  Zerubbabel,  Constantinople,  1519,  Svo  ;  (17)  Elleh 
Ezkerah  on  the  "  Ten  Martyrs. "  For  several  other  smaller  Midrashim 
tee  Jellinek's  Bet  haMiJrascIt,  i.  and  ii,,  185-3,  iii.,  1855,  iv.,  1857, 
all  at  Leipsic  ;  v.,  1873,  and  vi,,  1877,  both  at  Vienna  ;  and  comp. 
■Uo  Horowitz,  Sammlung  Klrinrr  Midraschim,  i.,  ii.,  Frankfort, 
1881-82.  The  Midrashim  on  Isaiah  and  on  Job  seem  now  irretriev- 
ably lost 

•  A«  if  to  compensate  for  this  drawback,  the  well-known  Comelio 
Adelkind  brought  out  at  Venice,  in  1545,  two  editions  of  the  RabboUt 
«u  tke  Pentateuch  and  MeQUloth,  the  one  at  Bombergi's  house  aud  the 


in  1512  (Constantinople,  folio),  and  that  on  the  ilegilloth  in  1619 
(somewhere  in  Italy,  flN'^ti'K  Hinoa.  also  in  folio).'  The  latest 
and  best  edition  is  that  of  Vilna,  1880,  folio.  A  translation  in 
German  is  now  coming  out  at  Leipsic,  by  Dr  A.  V7iin3che. 

(13)  Pircke  de-Rabbi  Eh'ezer  (also  called  Boraitlw  dt-Rahhi 
Eliczcr)  is  an  astronomico-theosophical  Midrash  consisting  of 
fifty-four  Perakim.  It  goes  through  the  so-called  "eighteen  bene- 
dictions," the  signs  of  the  zodiac,  ic,  but  is  unfinished.  It  belongs, 
no  doubt,  to  the  5th  century.  The  fact  that  the  name  "  Faiima  ** 
occui-s  in  it  is  no  proof  whatever  that  the  look  is  post-JIohammedan, 
as  that  name  must  have  been  already  known  to  the  idolatrous  Arabs. 
Ed.  prin.,  Constantinople,  1514,  and  with  a  Latin  translation, 
Leyden,  1644,  both  editions  being  in  4to,  There  are  also  now 
to  be  found  cheap  editions  (Lemberg,  Warsaw). 

(14)  Tanhuma  is  an  exegetical  and  homiletical  Midrash  on  the 
whole  Pentateuch.  It  is  quoted  accoviing  to  the  Parshiyyoth  of 
the  week.  Although  originally  of  the  end  of  the  5th  or  the 
beginning  of  the  6th  century,  it  has  now  two  priucipal  additions, 
which  form  part  of  the  book  ; — (1)  several  of  tlie  Shcethth  of  Eab 
Aliai  Gaon  (of  the  8th  century),  and  (2)  several  pieces  of  the 
Ycsodoi  R.  Mosheh  Haddarshun,  of  Narbonne(of  the  11th  century). 
On  its  relation  to  the  ''Yelavimrdenu^'  (often  quoted  in  the  lltb 
Century,  but  supposed  to  be  lost)  light  will  soon  be  thrown  by  the 
before-mentioned  Salomon  Buber,  who  is  now  preparing  a  critical 
edition  of  it.  The  ed.  princ.  of  the  Tanhuma  is  Constantinople, 
1522,  folio;  and  a  very  valuable  ilS.  copy  of  it  is  in  the  Cam- 
bridge University  Library  (Add.  1212). 

(15)  Bahir  is  a  small  cabbalistic  Midrash  ascribed  to  the  pre- 
ilishnic  teacher,  R.  Nehunyah  b.  Hakkanah, — no  doubt  from 
its  beginning  with  the  words.-  ••  njpn'p  n<:im  '3T  "IDX- 
Nahmanides  {ob.  c.  1268)  quotes  this  book  often  in  his  commentary 
on  the  Pentateuch,  under  the  names  of  Sepher  Babbahir,  or  of 
Midrasho  slicl  Rabbi  Kchunyah  b.  Hakkanah.  Some  have  pro- 
nounced this  work  a  iate  fabrication,  but  others,  who  have 
thoroughly  studied  it,  justly  describe  it  as  "old  in  substance  if 
not  inform."  frf.^n'nc,  Amsterdam,  1651,  4to.  A  cheap  edition 
appeared  at  Lemberg  (1865,  Svo),  and  a  SIS.  of  this  work  is  pre- 
served in  the  University  Library  of  Cambridge  (Dd.  10.  11.  4). 

(16)  Yalkiit  is  the  only  existing  systematic  if  not  exhaustive 
collection  of  the  Agadoth  on  the  whole  Bible.  Its  author  drew  not 
only  from  most  of  the  Midrashim  named  in  this  article,  but  also 
from  the  Boraithoth  (see  JIisu>'.vH),  both  Talmtidim,  and  the 
Midrashic  works  now  lost  (as  the  Jbkhir,  Easshckhcm,  or 
Hashkem,  &c.).'  This  fact  constitutes  one  of  the  principal  points 
of  its  value.  The  author  was  R.  Shim'eou,  brother  (and  not  sou) 
of  R.  Helbo,  and  father  of  the  distinguished  grammarian,  critic,  and 
divine  R.  Yoseph  Kara.  He  lived  somewhere  in  the  north  of  France 
in  tlie  11th  century.  The  ed.  princ.  of  the  Yaihit  on  Ezra, 
Xehcmiah,  and  the  books  of  Chronicles  came  out  at  Venice,  1517, 
folio  (in  the  first  Rabbinic  Bible)  ;  that  on  the  Prophets  and 
Hagiographa  in  1521,  and  that  on  the  Pentateuch  in  1526-27,  both 
at  Salonika,  and  in  folio.  An  English  translation  of  the  whole 
work  has  been  undertaken  by  a  band  of  Rabbinic  scholars  in 
Cambridge.  The  first  instalment,  "The  Yalkut  on  Zechariah," 
by  E.  G.  King,  B.D.,  Hebrew  lecturer  of  Sidney  Sussex  College, 
appeared  in  1882.  This  specimen,  besides  giving  a  correct  trans- 
lation, contains  many  valuable  notes. 

(17)  Lckiih  Tob  is  a  Midrash  on  the  Pentateuch  and  the  five 
MegiUoth.'hy  R.  Tobiyyahu  b.  Eli'ezer  of  Greece,  who  lived  during 
the  crusade  of  1096.  'This  work  draws,  certainly,  upon  the  old  and 
well-known  Midrashim,  and  as  such  it  would  have  thoroughly 
tleserved  the  censure  passed  upon  it  by  the  witty  but  somewhat 
irreverent  Abraham  Ibn  Ezra  (in  his  preface  to  his  commentary 
on  the  Pentateuch).  But  the  Lekah  Tab  h.as  also  most  valuable 
exjtlanations  both  by  the  collector  himself  and  by  his  father  (R. 
Eli'ezer),  a  fact  passed  over  by  Ibn  'Ezra  in  silence.  The  Lckah 
Tob  on  Leviticus.  Numbers,  and  Deuteronomy  canie  out  for 
the  first  time  at  Venice,  in  1546.  folio,  under  the  title  of  Pcsikto 
Ziillarlo  (see  leaf  934  in  the  postscript  by  the  editor,  Nnp'DDn 
NmUlt,  which  explains  the  somewhat  vagtie  title  on  the  title- 
p.igo  Nnai  IS  Nmun  Snp'DD).  in  1753-54  it  was  repub- 
lished at  Venice,  with  a  Latin  translation,  by  Blasius  Ugolinus 
iu  his  Thesaurus  Jntiquitalum  Sacrarum  (xv.-xvi. )  under  the 
name  of  PesicHui.     Tlie  Lrkah   Tob  on   Genesis  and  Exodus  was 


other  at  Giustiniani's.  These  two  editions  differ  in  nothing  but  in 
the  title. page.s.  ic,  and  the  vignettes  of  the  various  books.  The 
former  edition  is  in  possession  of  Dr  W.  Aldis  Wright,  an.l  the  latter 
in  that  of  Dr  C.  Taylor.  The  fact  of  these  editions  having  appeared 
simultaneously  is,  apparently,  unknown  to  the  bibliographers. 

•  It  is  noteworthy  that  in  this  edition  Ahashterosh,  i.e.,  Esther, 
stands  between  Lamentations  and  Ecclesiastes,  with  which  latter  tht 
Midrash  on  the  Megilloth  ends. 

'  We  may  mention  here  the  ed.  princ.  of  three  cabbalistic-Midraahic 
colleitions  which  go  under  the  name  of  Yalkut :— (1)  Yalkvt  Hadeuk, 
Lublin,  1648,  4to  ;  (2)  Yalk,U  Reubeni  Hakkutnn,  Prague,  I6M. 
4to;  and  (3)  YalkiU  Reubeni  UaggadoL  Wilhcrmsdorf,  1681,  folio. 


288 


M  I  E  — M  IE 


5^ublislied,  with  a  mtioal  commentftry*  at  Vilna,  by  Salomon  Bnber 

1880,  8vo),  where  also  simultaneously  a  third  edition  of  this 
.ilidrnsh  on  tlio  last  three  books  of  Moses,  with  a  short  commentary 
on  it,  came  out  by  Aharon  filosheh  Padova,  of  Carlin.  Tht  Lckah 
7'ob  on  the  five  Mcgilloth  is  as  yet  unpublished  ;  there  exist,  how- 
ever, several  good  MSS.  of  it,  both  in  public  and  private  libraries, 
the  finest  copy  in  every  respect  being  that  preserved  in  the  Uni- 
versity Library,  Cambridge  (Add.  378.  1). 

(18)  Mciwrath  Hammaor  ia  a  scient:5c,  though  incomplete, 
ooUc'Ction  of  the  principal  Agadoth  of  the  Talmudim  and 
JJ/;rf?-a5Azm,byR.  Yizhak  Abohabtho  elder(  flourished  13th  century). 
The  editions,  with  and  without  translations,  are  very  numerous, — 
the  cd.  princ.  being  Constantinople,  lol'i,  folio.  There  are  trans- 
lations in  Spanish,  Jud?eo-Gcrman,  and  German,  but  not  in  English. 
Wo  append  two  specimens  of  Midrashun^^-the  first  from 
PcsikothOj  leaf  1276,  and  the  second  from  Midra^h  Slicvwth  JtabbcUt, 
cap.  ii. 

First  Specimev.— The  Holy  One  (blessed  be  He!)  said  to  the  Prophet^,'  Go  ye 
and  comfort  ye  Jerusnlcin  I 

Then  went  Hosea  lo  comfort  her  and  sold.  The  Holy  One  (blessed  be  He!)  wnt 
me  to  tliee  lo  comfort  ihee.  She  said,  Wliat  bust  tJiou  in  Ihlnc  band  to  comfort 
me?  The  Prophet  said  (xiv.  6  [5]),  "  1  will  be  as  the  dew  unto  Israel:  "  But 
Jerusdlem  said  to  him,  Only  yesterday  thou  tuldcst  me  (Ix.  !«),  "  Epiiralm  Is 
Bmltltn,  their  root  is  dried  up,  they  shall  bear  no  fruit:  yva,  though  (hey  bring 
forth,  yet  will  I  slay  even  tlie  beloved  fiiUt  of , their  womb!"  ond  now  thou 
speukcst  to  me  thus.     Wlilch  shall  we  believe,  the  first  or  the  second  prophecy  ? 

Then  went  Joel  to  comfort  her  and  said.  Tho  Holy  One  (blessed  be  He!)  acnt 
me  to  ihce  to  comfort  thee.  She  said  to  him.  What  hast  tliou  in  thine  hand  to 
comfort  mc?  The  Piophet  said  (iv.  18).  "And  it  shall  como  to  pass  in  that 
day  that  the  mounUiins  shall  drop  doM-n  new  wine,  nnd  the  hills  shall  flow  with 
milk.  J:c.!  "  But  Jerusalem  said  to  him.  Only  yesterday  thou  toldest  me  (1.  5), 
"  Awake,  ye  drunkards,  and  weep;  and  howl,  all  ye  drinkers  of  wine,  because  of 
the  new  wine;  for  It  la  cut  off  from  yoiir  moulh! "  and  now  thou  speakest  to  me 
thus.     Which  shall  we  believe,  the  flist  or  the  second  pmphecy? 

Then  went  Amos  to  comfort  her  and  said.  The  Holy  One  (blessed  be  He !)  sent 
mc  to  thee  to  comfort  thee.  Slic  said  to  him,  What  hast  thou  In  thine  hani  to 
comfort  me?  Tho  Prophet  said  (ix.  11).  "  In  tliat  day  will  I  raise  up  the  taber- 
nacle of  David  that  Is  fallen  I  "  But  Jeinisakm  said  to  him.  Only  yesterday  thou 
toldest  mc  (v.  2),  "The  Virgin  of  Israel  is  f.illen;  she  shall  no  more  rise!"  and 
now  ihou  speakest  to  me  thus.  Which  shall  we  believe,  the  first  or  the  second 
prophecy? 

Then  went  Micah  2  to  comfort  her  and  said.  The  Holy  One  fblessed  be  He!) 
sent  me  to  thee  to  comfort  thee.  She  said  to  him,  What  hast  thou  in  thine  lund 
to  comfort  me?  The  Pif^phct  srid  (vil.  IS), -'Who  Is  a  God  like  unto  Thee,  that 
pardoneth  iniquity  and  passeth  by  the  transgression  of  the  remnant  of  His 
heritage?"  But  Jerusalem  said  to  him,  Only  yesterdny  thou  toldest  nic  (1.  6), 
"  For  the  transgression  of  Jacob  is  all  this,  and  tor  the  sins  of  the  house  of  Israel, 
Ac!"  and  now  thou  spc.ikest  lo  me  thus.  Which  shall  we  believe,  the  first  or 
tl*e  second  prophecy? 

Then  went  Nahi;m  to  comfort  her  and  snid,  Tlie  Holy  One  (blessed  be  He!) 
sent  me  to  thee  to  comfort  thee.  She  said  to  him.  What  hast  thou  in  thine  hand 
to  comfort  me?  The  Prophet  said  (d.  1  (i.  15]),  -  For  the  wicked  shall  no  more 
pass  through  tliee!"  But  Jerusalem  said  to  him.  Only  yesterday  tliou  toldest 
me  (i.  11),  "  There  is  one  come  out  of  thee  thm  imagincth  evil  apiinst  the  Lord, 
0  wick?d  counsellor!"  and  now  thou  speakest  to  me  thus.  Which  shall  we 
believe,  the  first  or  the  second  prophecy.? 

Then  went  Hadakruk  lo  comfort  her  and  said.  The  Holy  One  (blessed  be  He!) 
ficnt  me  to  thee  to  comfort  thee.  She  snid  to  him.  What  h.i^t  thon  in  thine  hand 
to  comfort  me?  The  Prophet  said  (iii.  13).  ■*  Thou  ucntcst  forih  for  the  sulvation 
of  Thy  people,  even  for  the  salvation  with  Thine  Anointed  One !  "  But  Jerusalem 
Eiiid  to  him.  Only  yesterday  thou  toldest  me  (i.  2),  "  0  Lord,  how  long  shall  1  cry 
and  Thou  wilt  not  hear,  even  C17  out  unto  Thee  of  violence  and  1  hou  wilt  not 
save!"'  and  now  thou  speakest  to  me  thus.  Which  shall  we  believe,  the  first  or 
the  second  prophecy? 

Then  went  ZEniANiAn  to  comfort  her  and  said.  The  Holy  One  (blessed  be  He!) 
sent  me  to  thee  ro  comfort  thee.  She  said  to  liim.  What  hiist  thou  in  thine  hand 
lo  comfort  roe?  The  Propliet  said  (i.  12).  "  And  it  ^hall  come  to  p^i-s  at  that  time 
that  I  ahall  scorch  Jerusalem  with  lights!"  But  Jerusalem  said  to  him.  Only 
ycsturday  ihi-u  toldest  mc  (i.  15).  "A  djy  of  darkness  and  glormincss!  "  and  now 
thou  speakest  to  me  thus.  Which  shall  we  believe,  the  first  or  the  second 
proi)liccy? 

Then  went  Hacoai  to  comfort  her  nnd  said,  Tlie  Holy  One  (blessed  bo  He!) 
sent  pic  to  thee  to  comfort  ihee.  She  said  to  him,  What  hast  ihou  In  thine  hand 
to  comfort  roe  ?  TJie  Prophet  said  (il.  19),  "  Is  tho  seed  yet  in  the  barn !  Yea.  as 
ytt  the  vino  and  tlie  fig  tree  and  the  pomcgianate  and  the  olive  ti-ee  hath  not 
brouglit  forth:  from  this  day  will  1  bless  you!"  But  Jerusalem  said  to  Iilm, 
Only  yesterday  thou  toldest  roe  (I.  C).  "  Ye  have 
&c.r'nnd  now  thou  speakest 
the  second  prophecy. 

Then  weht  Zkciiatiiaii  to  comfort  her  and  said.  The  Holy  One  (blessed  be  He!) 
sent  roc  to  thee  to  rororort  thee.  She  said  to  hlro.  What  hast  iliuu  in  thine  hand 
to  comfort  mc?  The  Prophet  said  (I.  15),  -And  I  om  very  sore  displeased  Miih 
the  heathen  tliat  nve  at  ease ;  for  I  was  but  a  little  displeased  nnd  they  helped 
forward  the  offliction  I  "     But  Jcruaulem  said  to  him.  Only  yesterday  Ihou  lolilest 

mc  (I.  2),  "The  Loid  hath  been  sore  displeased  with  your  faihc    *  "  ""  ^' " " 

BpeaLc  ' 


Then  we 


.  Ma 


Tifoit  Ihee.  Slie  said  to  him.  What  hast  thou  in  thine  hand 
10  comfort  roe?  The  Prophet  said  (lli.  12),  "And  all  natu-n*  shall  call  you 
blessed  •  for  yc  shrill  be  a  dcllRhtsome  land  I  "  But  Jvi-usalcm  said  lo  him.  Only 
yctcrday  thou  toldest  roe  (i.  10),  "I  have  no  delight  In  you!"  nnd  now  thou 
epi-nkest  10  me  thus.     Wlilch  ahull  we  bcliove,  the  fiist  or  the  last  i-rophccy? 

Then  went  nil  the  Prophets  to  tho  Holy  One  (btesAOil  be  He!)  haying  to  Him. 
Lord  of  the  Untveisc.  Jcruaulem  will  not  accept  con-ohilion  at  ..ur  hands.  Then 
the  Holy  One  (blessed  bo  He!)  sntd  to  them,  *'  I  and  you  *lll  together  go  to 
tomfort  her;  and  this  is  why  It  soys  (Isaiah  xl.  1).  Cmfort  3  c,  comfort  yc  m 
l-EOpLE  comfort  her  wmt  mi.,3  Comfi.rt  her,  ye  cele-tml  ones!  comfort  her,  yo 
tcrrvstvial  ones!  Comfort  her.  yo  llOng  ones!  comfort  h^r,  yo  dead  ones! 
Comfort  her  In  this  world  1  comfort  her  in  the  world  Income  '. 


'     >  Comp.  Pfikio  Ii'ibbnf?ii,  cd.  Frledmnnn,  loaf  13<!ft. 

»  Sue  Pesiiro  Rubba'hi  (cd.  Filcdmann,  leaf  1386),  wh.-tv  U  snys  (before  the 
parngraidi  on  Nahum),  •'  'Obudyah  prophesied  for  Edom,  nnd  Yooiih  fur  -Mncveh." 
This,  It  Is  true,  Is  a  mcrt  glosa;  but  It  b  tho  irue  reason  wliy  ihoc  two  propheM 

a  There  U  n  play  here  upon  tho  mcnnlnp  of  the  Hebrew.  »oy,  which  way  be 
itt&^l  either  'Ammt{'*wy  people")  or  7mmi  {"  with  mc"). 


SucoTn*  SpEcimR.— And  whom  doett  He  tryf  Ths  rtRhteooa  one;  for  H  mm 
(Pa.  xl.  &).  "The  Lord  tricth  th«  rightAOOH."  And  by  wliftt  does  He  try  him?  B^ 
the  feeding  of  sheep.  David  He  tried  by  thcep  and  found  hint  •  good  shepherd; 
for  It  Bays  (Ps.  IxxvlU.  70),  **  And  H«  took  him  from  tho  '  rc»tndnu  '  of  sbe<rp." 
What  is  the  meaning  of 'Mimmikhleothf  The  root  Is  the  same  as  that  of 'm^^^- 
kale  [^^agyelh^m)  (Gen.  vili.  2),  "And  the  rain  wa»  restrained."  David  restrabied 
the  btg  sheep  In  favour  of  tlie  sroatl  onrs.  lie  brought  out  first  the  young  ones, 
so  that  they  should  feed  on  tho  tender  herbs;  then  he  brought  out  the  old  oaes 
that  they  should  feed  on  the  less  tcndet'  herbs;  and,  tlruklly,  be  biought  out  tha 
strong  sheep  that  they  should  feed  on  Uic  coarser  herbs.  Upon  thi*  the  Holy  Ono 
(blessed  be  He!)  said,  He  who  undcrstandetb  lo  feed  sheep  according  to  their 
strength,  let  him  come  and  feed  kly  pcoplcl  And  this  it  is  xthat  is  wiltten 
(Pa.  Ixxvld.  71),  "  From  following  the  ewes  gicat  wiUi  >oung  He  bieught  him  to 
fi^d  Jacob  His  people!"  And  Llie  same  was  the  case  as  regards  Uoses,  whom 
the  Holy  One  (blessed  be  He  !)  tried  by  sheep.  Our  j  abbls  say,  When  Woica  our 
teacher  (peace  be  upon  hirol)  was  feeding  the  sheep  of  Jethro  In  the  wlldeines^ 
a  kid  ran  B>\ay  from  hiro,  and  Uoses  ran  after  it  till  they  came  to  a  mountain, 
hollow.  When  it  had  reached  the  mountain-hollow  tliere  was  ■  pool  of  water, 
and  the  kid  stood  still  in  ordi-r  to  dilnk.  When  Uoses  1  cached  the  kid  he  said  to 
it,  I  did  not  know  that  thou  didst  run  away  from  roe  because  thou  wast  tlrfrsty  and 
faint.  Thereupon  he  put  It  on  his  shoulJeis  and  walked  back  with  It  lo  tha 
flock.*  Tlicn  said  the  Holy  One  (blessed  be  He!),  Thou  art  compassionate  in  the 
feeding  of  sheep  belonging  to  mere  flesh  and  blood  (man);  as  thou  Dvest,  ihoa 
Shalt  feed  My  flock,  even  Israeli  Behold,  Ihls  it  ta  that  Is  wiilten  (Exod.  111.  1), 
"  And  Hoses  was  feeding  the  flock,  Ac."  (S.  M.  S.-S.) 

MIEDZYKZECZ  PODLASKI  (Russian,  Mejiryechie),  a 
district  town  of  Russian  Poland,  in  the  government  of 
Siedlce,  16  miles  to  the  east  of  the  government  capital,' 
on  the  railway  between  Warsaw  and  Brest-Litovskiy,  It 
is  first  mentioned  in  the  year  1390  as  a  feudal  dominion 
of  King  Yaghello.  After  frequently  changing  hands  it 
became  the  i^iroperty  of  the  Czartoryski,  and  afterwards 
of  the  Potockj  family,  whose  palace  is  still  to  be  seen  in 
the  town.  Its  10,000  inliabitants — half  of  whom  are 
Greek  nonconformists,  and  half  Jews  and  Poles — carry 
on  some  trade  in  bristles,  and  pursue  minor  industries.      ' 

MIERIS,  the  name  of  a  family  of  artists  who  practise{i 
painting  at  Leyden  for  three  generations  in  the  17th  and 
18th  centuries. 

I.  Frans  van  JIiekis,  the  elder,  son  of  Jan  van  Mierls,* 
a  goldsmith  and  diamond  setter,  was  born,  according  to, 
Houbraken,  at  Leyden  on  the  16th  of  April  1635,  and 
died  there  on  the  12th  of  March  1681.  His  father  wished 
to  train  him  to  his  own  business,  but  Frans  preferred 
drawing  to  chasing,  and  took  service  with  Abraham  Tor- 
envliet,  a  glazier  who  kept  a  school  of  design.  As  often 
happens,*-  the  youth's  style  was  influenced  by  his  earliest 
surroundings.  In  his  father's  shop  he  became  familiar 
with  the  ways  and  dress  of  people  of  distinction.  His 
eye  was  fascinated  in  turn  by  the  sheen  of  jewellery  and 
stained  glass  ;  and,  though  ho  soon  gave  up  the  teaching 
of  Torenvliet  for  that  of  Gerard  Dow  and  Abraham  van 
den  Tempel,  he  acquired  a  manner  which  had  more  of  the 
finish  of  the  exquisites  of  the  Dutch  school  than  of  tha 
breadth  of  the  disciples  of  Rembrandt.  It  should  be 
borue  in  mind  that  he  seldom  chose  panels  of  which  tho 
size  exceeded  12  to  15  inches,  and  whenever  his  name  ia 
attached  to  a  picture  above  that  3i2e  we  may  surely  assign 
it  to  his  son  Willem  or  to  some  other  imitator.  .Unlike 
Gerard  Dow  when  ho  first  left  Rembrandt,  or  Jan  Steen 
when  he  started  on  an  independent  career,  he  never  ven- 
tured to  design  figures  as  large  as  life.  Characteristic  of 
his  art  in  its  minute  proportions  is  a  shiny  brightness  and 
metallic  polish.  Tlie  subjects  which  he  treated  best  are 
those  in  wliich  he  illustrated  the  habits  or  actions  of  the 
wealthier  chsses ;  but  he  sometimes  succeeded  in  homely 
incidents  and  in  portrait,  and  not  unfrequently  he  ven- 
tured 00  allegory.  He  repeatedly  painted  the  satin  skirt 
which  Terburg  brought  into  fashion,  and  he  often  rivalled, 
Terburg  in  the  faithful  rendering  of  rich  and  highly- 
coloured  woven  tissues.  But  he  remained  below  Terburg 
and  Mctzu,  because  he  had  not  their  delicate  perception  of 
harmony  or  their  charming  mellowness  of  touch  and  tint, 
and  he  fell  behind  Gerard  Dow,  because  he  was  hard  and 
had  not  his  feeling  for  effect  by  concentrated  light  and 
shade.  In  the  form  of  his  composition,  wliich  sometimea 
represents  tho  framework   of  a   window    enlivened   with 


M  i  G  — M  I  G 


289 


greenery; And  adornod  with  bas-reliets  within  wnlcn  figures 
are  seen  to  the  waist,  his  model  ia  certainly  Gerard  Dow. 
It  has  been  said  that  he  possessed  some  of  the  humour  of 
Jan  Steen,  who  was  his  friend,  but  the  only  approach  to 
hamour  in  any  of  his  works  is  the  quaint  attitude  and 
look  of  a  tinker  in  a  picture  at  Dresden,  who  glances  know- 
ingly at  a  worn  copper  kettle  which  a  maid  asks  him  to 
mend. 

It  is  a  question  whether  Houoraken  has  truly  recorded 
this  master's  birthday.  One  of  his  best-known  pieces,  a 
party  of  ladies  and  gentlemen  at  an  oyster  luncheon  in 
the  hermitage  at  St  Petersburg,  bears  the  date  of  1650. 
Celebrated  alike  for  composition  and  finish,  it  would 
prove  that  Mieris  had  reached  his  prime  at  the  age  of 
fifteen.  Another  beautiful  example,  the  Doctor  Feeling 
a  Lady's  Pulse  in  the  gallery  of  Vienna,  is  dated  1656  ; 
and  Waagen,  in  one  of  his  critical  essays,  justly  observes 
that  it  is  a  remarkable  production  for  a  youth  of  twenty- 
one.  In  1657  Mieris  was  married  at  Leyden  in  the  pre- 
sence of  Jan  Potheuck,  a  painter,  and  this  is  the  earliest 
written  record  of  his  existence  on  which  we  can  implicitly 
rely.  Of  the  numerous  panels  knomi  to  the  writer  of 
these  lines,  twenty-nine  at  least  are  dated, — the  latest 
being  an  allegorj',  long  in  the  Ruhl  collection  at  Cologne, 
illustrating  the  kindred  vices  of  drinking,  smoking,  and 
dicing,  in  the  year  1680. 

Mieris  had  numerous  and  distinguished  patrons.  He 
received  valuable  commissions  from  Archduke  Leopold,  the 
elector-imlatine,  and  Cosmo  III.,  grand-duke  of  Tuscany. 
His  practice  was  large  and  lucrative,  but  never  engendered 
in  him  either  carelessness  or  neglect.  If  there  be  a  differ- 
ence between  the  painter's  earlier  and  later  work,  it  is  that 
the  former  was  clearer  and  more  delicate  in  flesh,  whilst  the 
latter  was  often  darker  and  more  livid  in  the  shadows. 
When  he  died  his  clients  naturally  went  over  to  his  son 
.Willeni,  who  in  turn  bequeathed  his  painting-room  to  his 
«on  Frans.  But  neither  WUlem  nor  Frans  the  younger 
equalled  Frans  the  elder. 

II.  WnxEM  VAX  Mieris  (1662-1747),  son  of  Frans. 
His  works  are  extremely  numerous,  being  partly  imita- 
tions of  the  paternal  subjects,  or  mythological  episodes, 
which  Frans  habitually  avoided.  In  no  case  did  he  come 
near  the  excellence  of  his  sire. 

in.  Feaxs  VAX  Mieris  the  younger  (1689-1763)  also 
lived  oil  the  traditions  of  his  grandfather's  painting-room. 

The  picturc3  of  nil  tbe  generations  of  the  Mieris  family  were  suc- 
cessfully imitated  liy  A.  D.  Siiajiliaaii,  who  lived  at  Lcipsic  nad 
was  iiatioiiized  by  the  court  of  ApUalt-Dessnu.  To  those  who  would 
rtudy  hi.-i  deceptive  form  of  nrt  a  visit  to  the  collection  of  Wbrlitz 
neftr  Dossnu  may  nffoi-d  iustructiou. 

MIGXARD,PiERRE  (1610-1695),  caUed— to  distinguish 
him  from  his  brother  Nicholas — Le  Romain,  was  the  chief 
French  iiortrait-painter  of  the  17th  century.  He  was  born 
at  Troyes  in  1610,  and  came  of  a  family  of  i>ainters.  In 
1630  he  left  the  studio  of  Simon  A'ouet  for  Italy,  where 
he  sjient  twenty-two  years,  and  made  a  reimtation  which 
brought  him  a  summons  to  Paris.  Successful  with  his 
portrait  of  the  king,  and  in  favour  with  the  court,  Mignard 
jiitted  himself  against  Le  Brun,  declined  to  enter  the 
Academy  of  which  he  was  the  head,  and  made  himself  the 
centre  d  opiwsition  to  its  authority.  The  history  of  this 
struggle  is  most  imix>rtant,  because  it  was  identical,  as 
long  as  it  lasted,  with  that  between  the  old  guilds  of 
France  and  the  new  body  which  Colbert,  for  political 
reasons,  was  determined  to  support.  Shut  out,  in  spite  of 
the  deserved  success  of  his  decorations  of  the  cupola  of 
Val  de  Grace  (1664),  from  any  great  share  in  those  public 
worte  the  control  of  which  was  the  attribute  of  the  new 
Academy,  Mignard  was  chiefly  iictive  in  jxjrtraiture. 
Tiirenne,  Bossuet,  Maintenon  (Louvre),  La  Valliire,  Sevign^, 
Montesi»n.  Descartes  f Castle  Howard),  all  the  beauties 


and  celebrities  of  his  day,  sat  to  him.  His  readiness  and 
skill,  his  happy  Instinct  for  grace  of  arrangement,  atoned 
for  want  of  originality  and  real  power.  With  the  death  of 
Le  Brun  (1690)  the  situation  changed;  Mignard  deserted 
his  allies,  and  succeeded  to  all  the  posts  held  by  his 
opponent.  These  late  honours  he  did  not  long  enjoy;  in 
1695  he  died  whilst  about  to  commence  work  on  the  cupola 
of  the  Invalides.  His  best  compositions  have  been  en- 
graved by  Audran,  Edelinck,  JIasson,  Poilly,  and  others. 

MIGNOKETTE,  or  Migxoknette  (i.e.,  "Uttle  dai^ 
ling"),  the  name  given  to  a  popular  garden  flower,  the 
Reseda  odorala  of  botanists,  a  "  fragrant  weed,"  as  Cowper 
calls  it,  highly  esteemed  for  its  delicate  but  delicious  perfume. 
The  mignonette  is  generally  regarded  as  being  of  annual 
duration,  and  is  a  plant  of  diffuse  decumbent  twiggy  habit, 
scarcely  reaching  a  foot  in  height,  clothed  with  bluntish 
lanceolate  entire  or  three-lobed  leaves,  and  bearing  longish 
spikes — technically  racemes — of  rather  insignificant  flowers 
at  the  ends  of  the  numerous  branches  and  brancUeta. 
The  plant  thus  naturally  assumes  the  form  of  a  low  densa 
mass  of  soft  green  foliage  studded  over  freely  with  the 
racemes  of  flowers,  the  latter  unobtrusive  and  likely  to  be 
overlooked  until  their  diffused  fragrance  compels  attention. 
The  native  country  of  the  original  or  typical  mignonette 
has  sometimes  been  considered  doubtful,  but  according  to 
the  best  and  latest  authorities  it  has  been  gathered  wild  oa 
the  North  African  coast  near  Algiers,  in  Egy])t,  and  in 
Syria,  As  to  its  introduction,  a  MS.  note  in  the  library 
of  Sir  Joseph  Banks  records  that  it  was  sent  to  England 
from  Paris  in  1742  ;  and  ten  years  later  it  appeara  to  have 
been  sent  from  Leyden  to  Philip  MUler  at  Chelsea.  Though 
originally  a  slender  and  rather  straggling  plant,  there  are 
now  some  improved  garden  varieties  in  which  the  growth 
is  more  compact  and  vigorous,  and  the  inflorescence  bolder, 
though  the  odour  is  perhaps  less  penetrating.  The  small 
six-petalled  flowers  are  somewhat  curious  in  structure :  the 
two  upper  petals  are  larger,  concave,  and  furnished  at  the 
back  with  a  tuft  of  club-shaped  filaments,  which  gives 
them  the  appearance  of  being  deeply  incised,  while  the  two 
lowest  petals  are  much  smaller  and  undivided ;  the  most 
conspicuous  part  consists  of  the  anthers,  which  are 
numerous  and  of  a  brownish  red,  giving  the  tone  of  colour 
to  the  inflorescence.  In  a  new  variety  named  Golden 
Queen  the  anthers  have  a  decided  tint  of  orange-yellow, 
which  imparts  a  brighter  golden  hue  to  the  plants  when 
in  blossom.  A  handsome  proliferous  or  double-flowered 
variety  has  also  been  obtained,  which  is  likely  to  be  a  very 
useful  decorative  plant,  though  only  to  be  propagated  by 
cuttings ;  the  double  white  flowers  grow  in  large  massive 
panicles  (proliferous  racemes),  and  are  equally  fragrant 
with  those  of  the  ordinary  forms. 

^Vhat  is  called  tree  mignonette  in  gardens  is  due  to  tlie  skill  of 
\.ic  cultivator.  Though  practically  a  British  annual,  as  already 
noted,  since  it  flowers  abundantly  the  first  season,  and  is  utterly 
destroyed  by  the  nutnmnnl  frosts,  and  though  recorded  as  being 
annual  in  its  native  habitat  by  Desfontaines  in  the  Flm-a  AtJantioa^ 
mignonette,    like   many  other  plants  treated  in  England  aa 


nuals,  will  continue  to  grow  on  if  kept  in  a  suitable  teniperaturo. 
cr,  the  life  of  certain  plants  of  this  semiannual  chai-acter 


may  be  prolonged  into  a  seoona  season  if  their  flowering  and  seeding 
are  pei-sistently  prevented.  In  applying  these  facts  to  the  pro- 
duction of  tree  mignonette,  the  gardener  grows  on  the  young 
plants  under  glass,  and  prevents  their  flowering  l)y  nipping  olTthe 
blooming  tips  of  the  shoots,  so  that  they  continue  their  vegetative 
gi'owth  iuto  the  second  season.  The  young  plants  are  at  first  sup, 
ported  in  an  erect  position,  the  laterals  being  removed  so  as  to 
secure  clean  uinight  stems,  and  then  at  the  height  of  one  or  two 
feet  or  more,  as  nmy  be  desired,  o  head  of  branches  is  encouraged 
to  develop  itself.     In  this  way  very  large  plants  can  be  prodnceo. 

For  orainary  pnqxjses,  however,  other  plans  are  adopted.  In  the 
open  bordei-s  of  the  flower  garden  mi^uoueite  is  usually  sown  in 
spring,  and  iu  great  nort  takes  care  of  UcPlf  ;  but,  being  a  favourite 
either  lor  window  or  balcony  culture,  and  on  account  of  its  fragrnnc* 
a  welcome  inmate  of  town  conservatories,  it  is  also  very  extfneively 

XVL  —  37 


290 


M  I  G  —  i\I  I  L 


grown  as  r.  ).:'•.  j/i.nt,  -jj'l  f.a-  m  idat  f  3rp&scs  with  this  ohjcct  it  is 
gown  in  pins  in  tin?  itutuirn,  and  tliiiuiej  out  to  cive  the  p1ant3 
requisite  siiace,  since  it  docs  not  transplant  well,  and  it  is  thereafter 
specially  ^rown  in  pita  protected  fiom  frosts,  and  marketed  when 
just  arriving  at  the  blooming  stage.  In  this  way  hundreds  of 
thousands,  probably,  of  pots  of  blooming  mignonette  are  raised  and 
disposed  of  year  by  year. 

In  classifying  the  odours  given  off  by  plants  Rimmel  ranks  the 
mignonette  in  the  class  of  which  he  makes  the  violet  the  type;  and 
Fee  adopts  the  same  view,  referring  it  to  his  class  of  *'  iosmoida  " 
along  with  the  violet  and  wallllower. 

The  name  is  sometimes,  but  it  would  appear  less  correctly,  written 
mignionette.  The  genus  Reseda  contains,  some  other  interesting 
and  useful  species, — among  them  the  Rtscda  Luicola,  which  is 
commonly  called  dyer'a-weed  and  weld,  and  yields  a  valuable 
yellow  dye. 

MIGUEL,  Maria  Evaeist  (1802-1866),  usually  known 
as  Don  Miguel,  whoso  name  is  chiefly  associated  with  his 
pretensions  to  the  throne  of  Portugal,  was  the  third  son  of 
King  John  VI.  of  Portugal,  and  of  Carlotta  Joachima,  one 
of  the  Spanish  Bourbons ;  he  was  born  at  Lisbon  on 
October  26,  1802.  In  1807  he  accompanied  his  parents 
lin  their  flight  to  Brazil,  where  he  was  permitted  to  grow 
iTip  a  spoiled  child  and  a  worthless  youth  ;  in  1821,  on  his 
return  to  Europe,  it  is  said  that  he  had  not  yet  learned 
to  read.  In  1822  his  father  swora  fidelity  to  the  new 
Portuguese  constitution  which  had  been  proclaimed  in  his 
absence ;  and  this  led  Carlotta  Joachima,  who  was  an 
absolutist  of  the  extremest  Bourbon  type,  and  otherwise 
hated  her  husband,  to  resolve  to  seek  his  dethronement  in 
favour  of  Miguel  her  favourite  son.  The  insurrection^ 
which  ensued  (see  Portooal)  resulted  in  her  relegation  to 
the  castle  of  Queluz  and  the  exile  of  Miguel  (1824),  who 
spent  a  short  time  in  Paris  and  afterwards  lived  in  Vienna, 
where  he  came  under  the  teaching  of  Jletternich.  On  the 
sudden  death  of  John  VI.  in  Jlay  1826,  Pedro  of  Brazil, 
his  eldest  son,  renounced  the  cron'n  in  favour  of  his 
daughter  JIaria  da  Gloria,  on  the  understanding  that  she 
should  become  the  wife  of  Miguel.  The  last-named 
accordingly  swore  allegiance  to  Pedro,  to  Maria,  and  to 
the  constitution  which  Pedro  had  introduced,  and  on  this 
footing  was  appointed  regent  in  July  1827.  He  arrived 
in  Lisbon  in  February  1828,  and,  regardless  of  his 
promises,  dissolved  the  new  Cortes  in  March ;  having 
called  together  the  old  Cortes,  with  the  support  of  the 
reactionary  party  of  which  his  mother  was  the  ruling 
spirit,  he  got  himself  proclaimed  'sole  legitimate  king  of 
Portugal  in  July.  The  power  which  he  now  enjoyed  he 
iwielded  in  the  most  tyrannical  manner  for  the  repression 
of  aD  liberalism,  and  his  ))rivate  life  was  characterized 
by  the  wildest  excesses.  The  public  opinion  of  Europe 
became  more  and  more  actively  hostile  to  his  reign,  and 
aiter  the  occupation  of  Oporto  by  Don  Pedro  in  1832,  the 
destruction  of  MigHel's  fleet  by  Captain  (afterwards  Sir 
Charles)  Napier  off  Cajje  St  Vincent  in  1833,  and  the 
victory  of  Saldanha  at  Santarem  in  1834,  Queen  Christina 
pf  Spain  recognized  the  legitimate  sovereignty  of  Maria, 
ind  in  this  was  followed  by  France  and  England.  Don 
Miguel  capitulated  at  Evora  on  May  29,  1834,  renouncing 
all  pretensions  to  the  Portuguese  throne,  and  solemnly 
promising  never  thenceforward  to  meddle  in  Peninsular 
affairs.  He  lived  for  some  time  at  Rome,  where  he  en- 
joyed papal  recognition,  but  afterwards  retired  to  Bronn- 
tach,  in  Baden,  where  he  died  on  November  11,  18fi6. 

MIGULINSKAYA,  a  Cossack  village  (aanitm)  of  Russia, 
in  the  gosernment  of  the  Don  Cossacks,  and  in  the  district 
of  Ust-Medvyeditsa,  79  miles  to  the  west  of  that  town,  on 
the  left  bank  of  the  Don.  It  is  one  of  the  largest  and 
Wealthiest  stanitsas  of  the  government,  and  has  20,600 
inhabitants,  who  axff  engaged  in  agriculture  and  stock- 
breeding,  and  In  the  export  of  agricultural  produce. 

MIKHAILOVSKAYA,  a  Cossack  village  (stanitsa)  of 
tiasaia,  in  the  government  of  the  Don  Co^^cks.  and  in  the 


district  cf  Khopcrsk,  14  miles  to  the  north-west  of 
UoTipino,  on  the  low  left  bank  of  the  IChoper,  which  ia 
inundated  when  the  river  is  full.  It  has  an  important 
fair,  where  Tartars  from  Astrakhan  exchange  furs  and 
cottons  for  manufactiu-ed  and  grocery  wares  imported  from 
central  Russia ;  the  inhabitants  of  the  district  also  sell 
corn,  cattle,  and  plain  woollen  stuffs.     Population,  18,000. 

MILAN  (the  Latin  Mtdiolanum,  Italian  Milano,  and 
German  Mailand),  a  city  of  Italy,  situated  near  the  njiddle 
of  the  Lombard  plain,  on  the  small  river  Olona,  in  45°  27' 
35"  N.  lat.  and  9°  5'  45"  E.  long.  It  is  390  feet  above' 
the  sea-level,  and  lies  25  mUes  south  of  the  Alps  at  Como,! 
30  miles  north  of  the  Apennines,  20  miles  east  of  the 
Ticino,  and  15  miles  west  of  the  Adda. 

The  plain  around  Milan  is  extremely  fertile,  owing  at 
once  to  the  richness  of  the  alluvial  soil  deposited  by  the 
Po,  Ticino,  Olona,  and  Adda,  and  to  the  excellent  system 
of  irrigation.'  Seen  from  the  top  of  the  cathedral,  the 
plain  presents  the  appearance  of  a  va,st  garden  divided 
into  square  plots  by  rows  of  mulberry  or  poplar  trees. 
To  the  'east  this  plain  stretches  in  an  unbroken  level, 
as  far  as  the  eye  can  follow  it,  towards  Venice  and  the 
Adriatic ;  on  the  southern  side  the  line  of  the  Apennines 
from  Bologna  to  Genoa  closes  the  view;  to  the  west  rise 
the  Maritime,  Cottian,  and  Graian  Alps,  with  ilonte  Viso 
as  their  central  point ;  while  northward  are  the  Pennine, 
Helvetic,  and  Rha^tian  Alps,  of  which  Monte  Rosa,  the 
Saasgrat,  and  Monte  Leone  are  the  most  conspicuous 
features.  In  the  plain  itself  li-e  many  small  villages ; 
and  here  and  there  a  larger  town  like  Monza  or  Saronno, 
or  a  great  building  as  the  Certosa  of  Pavia,  makes  a  white 
point  upon  the  greenery. 

The  commune  of  Milan  consists  since  1873  of  the  city 
within  the  walls  (area  1513  acres)  and  the  so-called  Corpj 
Santi'  without  the  walls  (area  15,415  acres).  The  popu- 
lation of  the  whole  area  increased  from  134,528  in  1800 
to  242,457  In  1861,  261,985  in  1871,  and  321,839  in 
1881, — the  city  within  the  walls  contributing  110,884  in 
1801,  196,109  in  1861,  199,009  in  1871,  and  214,004 
in  1 88 1.  The  climate  is  very  variable ;  there  is  a  diff«rence 
of  4 1  °  Fahr.  between  the  extreme  summer  heat  and  winter 
cold.  The  average  number  of  wet  days  is  72,  and  of 
snowy  days  10  per  annum. 

Milan  is  built  in  a  circle,  the  cathedral  being  the  central 
point.  The  city  is  surrounded  by  a  wall  7  miles  in 
circumference,  and  immediately  outside  the  wall  a  fine 
broad  thoroughfare  malces  the  circuit  of  the  city.  The 
streets  inside  are  for  the  most  part  narrow  and  crooked  j 
the  main  streets  are  the  Corso  Vittorio  Emanuele,  -the 
Strada  S.  Margherita,  the  Via  ilanzoni,  the  Corso  Porta' 
Ticinese,  and  the  Corso  Porta  Romana.  There  are  few 
piazzas  of  any  size  ;  the  largest  is  the  Piazza  del  Duomo, 
which  has  recently  been  extended,  and  the  houses  around 
it  modernized.  To  the  west  of  the  city  is  the  open  space 
of  the  Foro  Bonaparte  and  the  Piazza  d'Armi,  with  the 
square  keep  of  the  Visconti  castle,  flanked  by  two  granite 
towers,  between  them.  The  castle  was  partly  destroyed 
in  1447  by  the^Ambrosian  republic,  rebuilt  by  Francesco 
Sforza,  enlarged  by  the  Spanish  governors,  and  taken  by 
Napoleon  in  1800,  when  the  outer  fortifications  were  razed 
to  the  ground,  and  the  walls  left  as  they  now  are.  North 
of  the  I'iazza  d'Armi  is  the  modern  cemeter)-,  with  a  special 
building  and  njipaxatus  for  cremation,  erected  in  1876. 

Among  the  buildings  of  Milan  the  most  important  is  the 
cathedral,  begun  under  Gian  Galeazzo  Visconti,  in  I.'^SG. 
It  is  built  of  brick  cased  in  marble  from  the  quarries  which 
Visconti  gave  in  perpetuity  to  the  cathedral  chapter.     The 


•  The  name  Corpi  Santi  (of  doubtful  origin)  is  also  applied  t«  ^^^9 
extrft-Euural  portions  of  Oiemooa  and  Paria. 


MILAN 


291 


n&uie  of  the  original  architect  is  not  known,  bat  it  is 
certain  that  many  German  master  masons  were  called  to 
Milan  to  assist  the  Italian  builders.  After  St  Peter's  at 
Rome  and  the  cathedral  of  Seville  the  Duomo  of  Milan  is 
the  largest  church  in  Europe.  It  is  477  feet  in  length 
and  183  in  width;  the  nave  is  155  feet  high,  the  cupola 
226  feet,  and  the  tower  360  feet.  The  work  was  con- 
tinued through  many  centuries,  and  after  the  designs  of 
many  masters,  notably  of  Amadeo,  who  carried  out  the 
octagon  cupola,  and  of  Tibaldi,  who  ornamented  the 
doors  and  windows  of  the  facade  in  the  16th  century.  The 
work  was  finished,  under  Napoleon,  in  1805.  lie  style 
is  Gothic,  though  its  purity  is  destroyed  by  the  introduc- 
tion of  Romanesque  windows  and  portals  on  the  fa5ade. 
The  form  of  the  church  is  that  of  a  cross.  Inside  there 
are  double  aisles,  and  aisles  in  the  transepts.     The  roof  is 


Flau  of  Milan. 


9.  Pal.  Deccariiu 

10.  S.  Fcdclc 

11.  Teutro  d.  CanDobl&na, 
13.  Caaa  Uboldl. 

13.  Pal.  deUa  Raglone. 

14.  Conserv.  dl  Muaica. 

15.  Teatro  deUa  Scala. 

16.  Casino  del  MeixanU. 

17.  Hotel  RelchtTiniin. 

18.  Grand  Hotel  Itoyal. 


19.  Marino, 

20.  Hotel  de  la  VDle. 

21.  Hotel  Gran  Btetagnt. 

22.  Ca*a  Oripo. 

23.  Gallerla  VlttOTio 


1.  Ffazza  del  Teatro. 
t.  Piazza  del  Uercanti. 
8.  8.  Anj^lo. 
C  Oapedaie    delle    Fate- 

bcne  SoTelle. 
I.  Ospedale  del  Fate  bene 

FratellL 
<.  Cusa  Samoylotr, 
7.  S.  Maria  del  Carmine. 
a.  Pal.  de  Brera. 

supported  by  fifty-two  columns,  with  canopied  niches 
for  statues  instead  of  capitals.  The  windows  of  the  tribune 
contain  brilliant  painted  glass.  To  the  right  of  the 
entrance  is  the  tomb  of  Archbishop  Heribert,  the  champion 
of  Milanese  liberty;  next  to  that  is  the  tomb  of  Otho 
Visconti,  founder  of  that  family  as  a  reigning  house,  and  in 
the  right  transept  the  monument  of  Giacomo  dei  Medici, 
the  corsair  of  Como,  brother  of  Pope  Pius  IV.  and  uncle 
to  Saint  Carlo  Borromeo.  Under  the  dome,  in  a  crypt, 
lies  the  embahned  body  of  this  cardinal  saint  (1538-84), 
canonized  for  his  good  deeds  during  the  great  famine  and 
plague  of  1576.  The  body  is  contained  in  a  silver 
sarcophagus  faced  with  rock-crystaL  The  roof  of  the 
cathedral  is  built  of  blocks  of  white  marble;  and  the 
various  levels  are  reached  by  staircases  carried  up  the 
buttresses ;  it  is  ornamented  with  turrets,  pinnacles,  and 
two  thousand  statues. 

There  are  four  other  churches  of  interest  in  Milan.  S. 
Ambrogio,  the  oldest,  was  founded  by  St  Ambrose  in 
the  4th  :entury.  on  the  ruins  of  a  temple  of  Bacchus.     It 


is  remarkable  for  its  fine  atrium,  and  inside  for  the 
mosaics  in  the  tribune,  dating  from  the  9th  century,  and 
for  the  "  pala  "  or  plating  of  the  high  altar,  a  curious  and 
ancient  specimen  of  goldsmith's  work.  S.  Maria  delle 
Grazie  is  a  Dominican  church  of  the  15th  century.  The 
cupola,  vrith  sixteen  sides  wrought  in  terra-cotta,  is  attri- 
buted to  Bramante.  S,  Gottardo  is  now  built  into  the 
royal  palace,  and  only  the  apse  and  the  octagonal  campanile 
remain.  The  latter,  a  beautiful  example  of  early  Lom- 
bard terra-cotta  work,  was  biiilt  by  Azzone  Visconti  in 
1336,  and  was  the  scene  of  the  murder  of  Giovanni  Maria 
Visconti  in  1 4 1 2.  The  small  church  of  San  Satiro,  founded 
in  the  9th  century,  was  rebuilt  by  Bramante  in  the  15th ; 
the  sacristy  is  one  of  that  master's  finest  works. 

The  royal  and  archiepiscopal  palaces  are  both  worthy 
of  note.  The  former  stands  on  the  site  of  Azzone  Vis- 
conti's  palace,  and  the  present  building  was  the  viceregal 
lodge  of  the  Austrian  governors.  It  contains  one  fine 
hall  with  a  gallery  supported  by  caryatides.  The  Broletto, 
or  town-hall,  was  built  by  Filippo  Maria  Visconti  for  his 
general  Carmagnola,  in  1415,  who,  however,  never  Eved  in 
it.  The  Great  Hospital  is  a  long  building  with  a  fine 
facade  in  terra-cotta  from  the  designs  of  the  Florentine 
Antonio  Averlino;  it  dates  from  the  reign  of  Francesco 
Sforza  (1456),  and  can  accommodate  2400  patients.  Among 
the  modem  buildings  the  most  remarkable  are  the  Arco 
della  Pace,  which  stands  at  the  commencement  of  the 
Simplon  road  (begun  in  1804  by  Napoleon,  finished  in 
1833  under  the  Austrians),  and  the  great  GraUeria  Vittorio 
Emanuele,  connecting  the  Piazza  del  Duomo  with  the 
Piazza  della  Scala — a  graceful  glass-roofed  structure  320 
yards  long,  16  yards  wide,  and  94  feet  high,  built  in 
1865-67  at  a  cost  of  320,000  Ure  (£12,800).  The 
Milanese  are  justly  proud  of  this  popular  promenade,  as  the 
finest  of  its  kind  in  Europe ;  and  in  the  best  of  their  four 
considerable  theatres — the  Scala,  built  in  1778  on  the 
site  of  a  church  raised  by  Beatrice  Soala,  wife  of  Bemabd 
Visconti — they  also  possess  the  largest  theatre  in  Europe, 
with  the  single  exception  of  the  S.  Carlo  at  Naples. 

Milan  is  rich  in  works  of  art.  It  has  been  the  home  of 
many  excellent  sculptors  and  architects,  among  others  of 
Amadeo  and  of  Agostino  Busti,  known  as  Bambaia, — whose 
work  may  be  seen  in  the  cathedrals  of  Como  and  Milan,  in 
the  Certosa  of  Pavia,  and  in  the  terra-cotta  buildings  of  the 
Lombard  towns.  Later  on,  towards  the  close  of  the  15th 
century,  the  refined  court  of  Lodovico  Sforza  attracted 
such  celebrated  artists  as  Bramante  the  architect,  Gaffurio 
Franchino  the  founder  of  one  of  the  earliest  musical 
academies,  and  Leonardo  da  Vinci,  from  whose  school 
came  Luini,  Boltraffio,  Gaudenzio  Ferrari,  and  Oggiono. 
In  still  more  recent  times  Beccaria  (17^8-94)  as  a  jurist, 
Monti  (1754-1828)  as  a  poet,  and  Manzoni  (1785-1873) 
as  a  novelist,  have  won  for  the  Milanese  a  high  reputation 
in  the  field  of  letters 

The  picture  gallery  of  the  Brera  is  one  of  the  finest  in 
Italy.  It  possesses  Raphael's  famous  "  Sposalizio,"  and 
contains  many  frescos  by  Luini,  Gaudenzio  Ferrari,  and 
Bramantino,  The  Venetian  school  is  particularly  well 
represented  by  works  of  Paolo  Veronese,  Paris  Bordone, 
Gentile  BelUni,  Crivelli,  Cima  da  Conegliano,  Bonifazio, 
Moroni,  and  Carpaccio,  Luini  may  also  be  studied  in  the 
church  of  Monastero  Maggiore,  a  large  part  of  whose  walls 
he  painted  in  fresco.  In  the  archicological  museum,  on  the 
ground  floor  of  the  Brera,  are  preserved  many  interesting 
monuments,  among  others  the  tomb  of  Beatrice  della 
Scala  and  the  equestrian  monument  of  her  husband 
BemabJi  Visconti,  as  well  as  the  most  exquisite  sepulchral 
monument  of  Gaston  de  Foix,  the  work  of  Agostino  Busti 
The  library  of  the  Brera  contains  upwards  of  200,000 
volumes,  inclndinsr   some  important  Venetian  chronicles, 


392 


MILAN 


but  it  13  not  so  rich  in  MSS.  as  tlie  celebrated  Ambrosian 
library,  for  wbich  see  Libeaeies,  voL  xiv.  p.  531. 

jiffric%dture.—Th6  district  of  Milan  is  renowned  for  Ita  excellent 
agriculture.  It  may  be  divided  into  two  regie  is,  where  diffijrent 
systems  of  farming  are  pursued  and  different  crops  produced.  The 
first  region  lies  on  the  lower  slopes  of  the  Alps,  where  they  sink 
into  the  plain.  This  is  called  the  dry  Milanese,  for  it  is  watered 
by  torrents  onl^,,  which  have  worn  themselves  too  deep  a  bed  to 
allow  of  irrigation,  and  the  peasants  are  obliged  to  collect  the  rain- 
water in  large  mud-lined  tanks  called  "poppe."  The  soil  is  for 
the  most  part  thin  and  light,  and  is  frequently  washed  down  the 
incline  into  the  plain ;  in  some  parts  it  is  only  kept  in  its  place  by 
stone  walls  reared  at  great  cost  The  farms  are  smaller  here  than 
in  the  lower  plain,  and  are  let  on  a  system  which  is  a  compromise 
between  the  mezzadria,  which  once  obtained  in  the  distnct,  and 
regular  leases.  The  tenant  pays  a  money  rent  for  the  house ;  and 
for  the  land  he  either  pays  in  kind  or  in  a  money  equivalent, 
supplemented  by  labour  given  to  the  landlord.  In  caSes  where 
vines  or  fruit  trees  are  grown,  the  landlord  supplies  and  maintains 
them  till  they  come  into  fruit  The  landlord  carries  out  all 
improvements,  and  the  tenant  holds  the  farm  at  his  pleasure. 
The  rotation  of  cropping  is  for  three  years.  The  value  of  these 
farms  varies  greatly,  ranging  from  7  to  14  lire  the  pertica  (1000 
squai'e  yards).  The  district  produces  maize  and  wheat  in  abund- 
ance, a  little  flax  and  mUlet,  apples,  and  wine.  The  second 
dgricultural  district  is  that  which  lies  in  the  plain  ;  it  is  called  the 
wet  Milanese,  from  the  elaborate  system  of  irrigation  which  makes 
the  meadows  yield  a  constant  succession  of  crops.  The  plain  is 
traversed  by  innumerable  canals  at  various  levels,  crossing  one 
another  on  bridges,  or  by  siphons,  so  that  the  peasant  can  flood 
his  fields  at  any  moment  The  system  is  as  old  as  the  12th 
century;  it  was  improved  by  Leonardo  da  Vinci,  and  is  now  the 
most  perfect  network  of  irrigation  in  Europe.  The  farms  vary  in 
extent  from  1500  to  4500  pertichc.  They  are  let  upon  leases  for 
nine,  twelve,  or  fifteen  years,  at  rents  ranging  from  8'50  to  12"50 
lire  the  pertica,  while  those  near  a  city  may  bring  from  16  to  20 
lire.  The  rotation  of  cropping  is  five-yearly.  The  meadows  yield 
four  crops  of  grass  in  the  year  ;  the  first  three — the  maggengo,  the 
agostino,  and  the  terzuolo— are  cut,  the  fourth  is  grazed  off. 
where  the  ground  is  perfectly  flat  and  water  can  stagnate,  rice  is 
gi'own  ;  this  crop  is  continued  for  four  years  in  succession,  then 
the  land  is  rested  with  cereals  and  grass.  The  other  crops  are 
maize  and  wheat.     But  the  chief  occupation  is  the  supply  of  dairy 

Eroduce.  The  cows  are  bought  in  tlie  Swiss  cantons  of  Uri,  Zug, 
ucerne,  and  Schwyz,  the  last  furnishing  the  best  milkers.  The 
cheese  called  Parmesan  comes  from  the  Milanese  ;  and  the  rich 
cheese,  made  of  unskimmed  milk,  known  as  Stracchlr.D,  is  made 
principally  at  the  %'illage  of  Gorgouzola,  12  miles  east  of  Miian. 

Industries. — The  industries  of  this  district  have  increased  veiy 
i-apidly  since  the  union  of  Italy,  and  the  city  is  now  the  chief 
commercial  centre  iu  North  Itnly.  The  principal  industry  of 
Milan  and  the  Milanese  is  the  production  and  manufacture  of  silk. 
For  feeding  the  worms  mulbeiTy  trees  are  largely  cultivated  on  the 
plain ;  and  the  distiicb  counts  upwards  of  200  factories,  where  the 
Bilk  thread  is  unwound  from  the  cocoonj,  yielding  4,000,000  lb  of 
raw  silk  in  the  year.  Some  of  this  is  exported  to  France  for 
manufacture,  but  the  Milanese  can  now  almost  rival  their 
neighbours  in  the  production  of  silk  stuffs,  velvets,  and  brocades. 
Cotton  is  manufactured  at  Saronno  and  Lcgnano,  fustian  at  Busto, 
lineu  at  Cassano,  combs  at  Burlando,  and  porcelain  and  carriages 
of  very  excellent  woi'kmanship  in  Milan  itself. 

History. — Rellovesus,  king  of  the  Celts,  who  crossed  the  Aips 
when  Tarquinius  Priscus  was  king  in  Rome,  is  the  traditional 
founder  of  Milan.  The  city  became  the  capital  of  the  Insubrian 
Gauls,  and  was  taken  by  the  Romans  in  222  b,o.  As  a  Roman 
municipium  it  continuecl  to  increase  in  magnificence  and  import- 
ance ;  and  under  Constantino  it  was  the  seat  of  the  imperial  vicar 
of  the  West  Under  Theodosius,  in  the  4th  century,  Milan,  to 
judge  from  Ausonius's  description  {Ordo  Nob.  Urbitim,  v.),  must 
nave  been  rich  in  temples  and  public  buildings.  Theodosius  died 
at  Milan  after  doing  penance,  at  the  bidding  of  St  Ambrose,  for 
his  slaughter  of  the  iwople  of  Tlicssalonica.  Ambrose  is  still 
■venerated  in  Milan  as  tne  founder  of  the  Milanese  church  and  the 
compiler  of  the  Ambrosian  rite,  which  is  still  in  use  throughout 
the  diocese.  After  his  death  the  period  of  invasions  begins  ;  and 
Milan  felt  the  power  of  the  Huns  under  Attila  (4521,  of  the 
Heruli  under  Odoacor  (476),  and  of  the  Goths  under  Theodoric 
(493).  "When  Belisarius  was  sent  by  Justinian  to  recover  Italy, 
Dfttius,  the  archbishop  of  Milan,  joined  him,  and  the  Goths  were 
expelled  from  the  city.  But  Uraia,  ucnhew  of  Vitigis  the  Gothic 
king,  subsequently  assaulted  and  retook  the  town,  after  n  bravo 
resistance.  Uraia  destroyed  the  whole  of  Milan  in  539  ;  and  hence 
it  is  that  tliis  city,  once  so  important  a  centre  of  Roman  civilization, 
possesses  so  few  remains  of  antiquity.  Naracs,  in  his  campaigns 
against  the  Goths,  had  invited  other  barbarians,  the  Lombards,  to 
his  aid.     They  camo  in  a  body  under  Alboiu,  their  king,  in  508, 


and  were  soon  masters  of  Iforth  Italy,  and  entered  Milan  the  year 
following.  Alboin  established  his  capital  at  Pavia,  and  lUlan 
remained  the  centre  of  Italian  opposition  to  the  foreign  conquest 

The  Lombards  were  Arians,  and  the  archbishops  of  Hiian  from 
the  days  of  Ambrose  had  been  always  orthodoi.  Though  thft 
struggle  was  unequal,  their  attitude  of  resolute  opposition  to  the 
Lonil)ard8  gained  for  them  great  weight  among  the  people,  who 
felt  that  their  archbishop  was  a  power  around  whom  they  might 
gather  for  the  defence  of^ their  liberty  and  religion.  All  the  innate 
hatred  of  the  foreigner  went  to  strengthen  the  hands  of  the 
archbishops,  who  slowly  acquired,  in  addition  to  their  spiritual 
authority,  powers  military,  executive,  and  judicial.  These  iwwen 
they  came  to  administer  through  their  delegates,  called  viscounts. 
When  the  Lombard  kingdom  ^U  before  the  Franks  under  Charles 
the  Great  in  774,  the  archbishops  of  Milan  were  still  further 
strengthened  by  the  close  alliance  between  Charles  and  the  church, 
which  gave  a  sort  of  confirmation  to  their  temporal  authority,  and 
also  by  Charles's  policy  of  breaking  up  the  great  Lombard  fiefs  and 
dukedoms,  for  which  he  substituted  the  snialler  counties.  Under 
the  confused  government  of  Charles's  immediate  successors  the 
archbishop  was  the  only  real  power  in  Milan.  But  there  were 
two  classes  of  difficulties  in  the  situation,  ecclesiastical  and  political; 
and  their  presence  had  a  marked  effect  on  the  development  of  the 
people  and  the  growth  of  the  commune,  which  was  the  next  stage 
in  the  history  of  Milan.  On  the  one  hand  the  archbishop  was 
obliged  to  contend  against  heretics  or  cgainst  fanatical  reformers 
who  found  a  following  among  the  people;  and  on  the  other,  since 
the  archbishop  was  the  real  power  in  the  city,  the  emperor,  the 
nobles,  and  the  people  each  desired  that  he  shoiUd  be  of  their  party  ; 
and  to  whichever  party  he. did  belong  he  was  certain  to  find 
himself  violently  opposed  by  the  other  two.  From  these  causes  it 
sometimes  happened  that  there  were  two  archbishops,  and  there- 
fore no  central  control,  or  no  archbishop  at  all,  or  else  an  archbishop 
in  exile.  The  chief  result  of  these  difhculties  was  that  a  spirit  of 
independence  and  a  c.-*pacity  of  judging  and  acting  for  themselves 
was  developed  in  the  people  of  Milan.  The  termor  of  the 
Hunnish  invasion,  in  899,  further  assisted  the  people  in  their  pro- 
gress towards  freedom,  for  it  compelled  them  .to  take  arms  and  to 
fortify  their  city,  rendering  Milan  more  than  ever  independent 
of  the  feudal  lords  who  lived  in  their  castles  in  the  country. 
The  tyranny  of  these  nobles  drove  the  peasantry  and  smaller 
vassals  to  seek  the  protection  for  life  and  property,  the  equality  of 
taxation  and  of  justice,  which  could  be  found  only  inside  the  walled 
city  and  under  the  rule  of  the  archbishop.  Thus  Mibn  grew 
populous,  and  learned  to  govern  itself.  Its  mhabitants  became  for 
the  fii-st  time  Milanese,  attached  to  the  standard  of  St  Ambrose, — 
no  longer  subjects  of  a  foreign  conqueror,  but  a  distinct  people^ 
with  a  municipal  life  and  prospects  of  their  own.  For  the  further 
growth  of  the  commune,  the  action  of  the  great  archbishop  Heri- 
bert,  the  establishment  of  the  carroccio,  the  development  of 
Milanese  supremacy  in  Lombardy,  the  destruction  of  Lodi,  Come, 
Pavia,  and  other  neighbouring  cities,  tie  exhibition  of  free  spirit 
and  power  in  the  Lombard  league,  and  the  battle  of  Legnano,  see 
the  article  Italy.     See  also  Lombards. 

After  the  battle  of  Legnano,  in  1174,  althongn  me  Lombard  cities 
failed  to  r^ap  the  fruit  of  their  united  action,  and  fell  to  mutual 
jealousy  once  more,  Milan  internally  began  to  grow  in  material 
prosperity.  After  the  peace  of  Constance  (1183)  the  city  walls 
were  extended  ;  the  arts  flourished,  each  in  its  own  quarter,  un^er 
a  syndic  who  watched  the  interests  of  the  trade.  The  manufacture 
of  armour  was  the  most  important  industry.  During  the  struggles 
with  the  emperor  Barbarossa,  whei>  freedom  seemed  on  the  point 
of  being  destroyed,  many  Milanese  vowed  themselves,  their  comIs, 
and  their  families  to  the  Virgin  should  their  city  come  safely  out 
of  her  troubles.  Hence  arose  the  powerful  fraternity  of  the 
"Umiliati,"  who  established  their  headquarters  at  the  Brcra,  and 
began  to  develop  the  wool  trade,  and  subsequently  gave  the  first 
impetus  to  the  production  of  silk.  From  this  period  also  date  the 
irrigation  works  wliich  render  the  Lonbard  plain  a  fertile  garden. 
The  government  of  the  city  consisted  of  (A)  a  parlnmento  or  con* 
siglio  gi"ande,  including  all  who  possessed  bread  and  wiiio  of  their 
own, — a  council  soon  found  to  bo  unmanageable  owing  to  its  sixe, 
and  reduced  first  to  2000,  then  to  1600,  and  finally  to  800  mem- 
bers ;  (B)  a  credenza  or  committee  of  twelve  members,  ejected 
in  the  grand  council,  for  the  despatch  of  urgent  or  secret  busineaa  : 
(C)  the  consuls,  the  executive,  elected  for  one  year,  and  compelled 
to  reuort  to  the  great  council  at  the  term  of  their  olScc.  The  way 
in  which  the  burghen  used  their  liberty  and  powers,  secured  bv 
the  peace  of  Constance,  in  attacking  tlie  feudal  nobility  ;  how  the^ 
compelled  the  nobles  to  come  into  the  city  and  to  abandon  their 
castles  for  a  certain  portion  of  the  year  ;  how  the  war  between  the 
two  classes  was  continued  inside  the  city,  ri'sulting  in  the  establiali- 
mont  of  the  podesU\  ;  and  the  nature  and  limits  of  this  office, — all 
this  has  been  cxplninrd  in  the  article  Italy. 

This  bitter  and  wellbabnccd  rivalry  between  the  nobles  and  tbe 
people,  and  the  endlo<.s  danger  to  which  it  exposed  the  city  owing 
to  tlic  fuel  tliat  the  nobles  wci-o  always  ready  to  claim  the  protec-. 


M I L  —  MIL 


293 


tion  of  their  feudal  chief,  (3i»  emperor,  hrooght  to  the  front  two 
aoble  funilies  u  protagonists  of  the  contending  factions,— the 
Torriani  of  Valsessina,  and  the  Yisoonti,  who  derived  their  name 
from  the  office  they  had  held  nnder  the  archbishops.  After  the 
battle  of  Cortcnova,  in  1237,  where  Frederick  II.  defeated  the  Guelf 
array  of  the  Milanese  and  captured  their  carroccio,  Pagano  della  Torre 
rallfed  and  saved  th6  remnants  of  the  Milanese.  This  act  recom* 
mended  him  to  popular  favour,  and  he  was  called  to  the  government 
of  the  city, — but  only  for  the  distinct  purpose  of  establishing  the 
"catasta, '  a  property  tax  which  should  fall  with  equal  incidence  on 
every  citizen.  This  was  a  democratic  measure  which  marked  the 
party  to  which  the  Torriani  belonged  and  rendered  them  hateful 
to  the  nobility.  Pagano  died  in  1241.  His  nephew  Martino  fol- 
lowed as  podest^  in  1256,  and  in  1259  as  signore  of  Milnn, — the 
tot  time  such  a  title  was  heard  in  Italy.     The  nobles,  who  had 

Sthered  round  the  Visconti,  and  who  threatened  to  bring  Ezzelino 
Romano,  the  Ghibelline  tyrant  of  Padu,-.  into  the  city,  were 
defeated  by  Martino,  and  nine  hundred  of  their  number  were 
captured.  Martino  was  followed  by  two  other  Torriani,  Filippo 
bis  brother  (1263-65)  and  Napoleone  his  cousin  (1265-77),  as  lords 
of  Milan.  Napoleone  obtained  the  title  of  imr>erial  vicar  from 
Rudolph  of  Hapsburg.  But  the  nobles  under  the  Visconti  had  been 
steadily  gathering  strengtli,  and  Napoleone  was  defeated  at  Besio 
in  1277.  He  ended  his  life  in  a  wooden  cage  at  Castel  Baradello 
above  Coroo. 

Otho  Visconti,  archbishop  of  Milan  (1262),  the  victor  of  Desio, 
became  lord  of  Milan,  and  founded  the  house  of  Visconti,  who  ruled 
the  city — except  from  1302  to  1310— till  1H7,  giving  twelve  lords 
to  Milan.  Otho  (1277-95),  Matteo  (1310-22),  Galeazzo  (1322-28), 
Alio  (1328-39),  Lucchino  (1339-49),  and  Giovanni  (1349-54)  fol- 
lowed in  succession.  Giovanni  left  the  lordship  to  three  nephews — 
Matteo,  Galeazzo,  and  Bernabi.  Matteo  was  killed  (1355)  by  his 
brothers,  who  divided  the  Milanese,  Bemab6  reigning  in  Alilan 
(1354-85)  and  Galeazzo  iu  Pavia  (1354-78).  Galeazzo  left  a  son, 
Gian  Galeazzo,  who  became  sole  lord  of  Alilan  by  seizing  and  im- 
prisoning his  uncle  Bernab6.  For  an  account  of  this  most  powerful 
prince  see  Italy.  It  was  under  him  that  the  cathedral  of  Milan 
and  the  Certosa  of  Pavia  were  begun.  He  was  the  first  duke  of 
Milan,  having  obtained  that  title  from  the  emperor  Wenceslaus. 
His  sons  Giovanni  Maria,  who  reigned  at  Milan  (1402-1412),  and 
FUippn  Marin,  who  reigned  at  Pavia  (1402-1447),  succeeded  him. 
In  1412,  on  his  brother's  death,  Filippo  united  the  whole  duchy 
onder  his  solo  rule,  and  attempted  to  carry  out  his  father's  policy 
of  agCTandizement,  but  without  success. 

Filippo  was  the  lass  male  of  the  Visconti  house.  At  his  death  a 
republic  was  proclaimed,  which  lasted  only  three  years.  In  1450 
the  general  Francesco  Sforza,  who  had  married  Filippo's  only  child 
Bianca  Visconti,  became  duke  of  Milan  by  right  of  conquest  if  by 
any  right.  Under  this  duke  the  canal  of  the  lilartesana,  which 
connects  Milan  with  the  Adda,  and  the  Great  Hospital  were  carried 
out.  Francp!»co  was  followed  by  five  of  the  Sforza  family.  His  son 
Galeazzo  Maria  (1466-76)  left  a  son,  Gian  Galeazzo,  a  minor,  whose 
guanliaii  and  uncle  Lodovico  usuiped  the  duchy  (1479-1500).  Lodo- 
Tico  was  captured  in  1500  by  Louis  XII.  of  France,  and  Milan 
remained  for  twelve  years  under  the  French  crown.  In  the  partial 
settlement  which  followed  the  battle  of  Ravenna,  Massimiliano 
Sforza,  a  protege  of  tlie  emperor,  was  restored  to  the  throne  of  Milan, 
and  held  it  by  the  help  of  the  Swiss  till  1515,  when  Francis  1. 
of  France  reconquered  the  Milanese  by  the  battle  of  Marignano, 
and  Massimiliano  resijmed  the  sovereignty  for  a  revenue  from  France, 
This  arrangement  did  not  continue.  Charles  V.  succeeded  the 
emj^ror  Maximilian,  and  at  once  disputed  the  possession  of  the 
Milanese  with  Francis.  In  1522  the  imperialists  entered  Milan  and 
proclaimed  Francesco  Sforza  (son  of  Lodovico).  Francesco  died  in 
1535,  and  with  bim  ended  the  house  of  Sforza.  From  this  date  till 
the  war  of  the  Siwnish  succession  (1714)  Mil.m  was  a  dependency  of 
the  Spanish  crown.  At  the  ck>so  of  that  war  it  was  handed  over 
to  Austria  ;  and  under  Austria  it  remained  till  the  Napoleonic 
campaign  of  1796.  For  the  results  of  that  campaign,  and  for  the 
history  of  Italian  progress  towaiils  independence,  in  which  Milan 
played  a  prominent  part  bj-  opening  the  revolution  of  1848,  the 
reader  is  referred  to  the  articJe  Italy.  The  Lombard  campaign  of 
1859,  with  the  battles  of  Solferino  and  Magenta,  finally  made  Milan 
a  part  of  the  kingdom  of  Italy. 

hleralnrt.—rkm  Vcnl,  Siordi  dl  UUam ;  Corio.  Sloria  il  tlitano ;  C«nlb, 
iHitHratiomt  Orantt*  del  Lombardo  Viiielo\  Itie  Mtlaiieso  chroniclei-s  In  Mura- 
fort's  B<r.  ItaK  Scrlptt)rn',  Slimon<1l,  Italian  RepitbtUt;  Feirdrt.  Rit\>tutione  tf 
IXalta.  Llln.  Famlglieteltbrl,  ir."  Torriani,"  ■'Visconti."  •'  Sfoiza.'and'TrivulzU" 
Muralorl.  Aanall  d'llalla ;  Rallaro,  Hlilarg a/ Iht  MidJIe  A^es ;  and  Uediolanum. 
4  roll.,  1S81.  DonirldlM  da  Rlrl  xivcs  •  coDtemjwraiy  account  of  Slllan  In  the 
IStll  ccnlur}-.  (H.  F.  B.) 

3IILAZZ0,  a  city  of  Italy  in  the  province  of  Messina 
in  Sicily,  20J  miles  west  of  ilessina,  is  built  on  the  eastern 
shore  of  the  Bay  of  Jlilazzo,  partly  on  the  isthmus  of  the 
promontory,  Capo  Milazzo,  which  divides  it  from  the  Bay 
of  Olivieri.  It  consists  of  an  old  or  upper  town  protected 
bj_ strong  bosticned  walls,  and  a  lower.  or_  modern  town 


outside  of  the  enceinte.  ~  The  fine  old  castle  is  now  tised 
as  a  prison.  Besides  a  certain  amount  of  foreign  cem-j 
merce  (37  vessels  with  a  burden  of  6707  tons  entering  in 
1881,  93  -with  13,496  in  1863),  Milazzo  carries  on  a  gaoi 
coasting  trade  (194,366  tons  in  1881,  40,138  in  1861); 
and  is  one  of  the  seats  of  the  tunny-fishery.  The  com- 
munal  popujation  increased  from  10,493  in  1861  to  13,565 
in  1881,  and  that  of  the  city  was  7427  in  1871 

Milazzo  is  the  ancient  Mylte,  a  seaport  and  fortress  founded  tsf 
the  Zancheans  (Messanians),  which  gives  its  name  to  the  battle  oC 
the  Klyleean  plain  in  which  the  Mamertines  were  defeated  by  Hiero 
in  270  B.O.  In  1523  itwas  the  scene  of  an  unsuccessful  conspiracy 
to  transfer  Sicily  to  the  French.  Captured  by  the  Germans  in  1718, 
it  was  besieged  by  the  Spaniards,  but  relieved  by  a  Neapolitan  and 
English  force.  In  July  1860  the  defeat  of  the  Neapolitans  in  the 
vicinity,  and  the  seizure  of  the  fortress,  formed  almost  the  crown- 
ing act  of  Garibaldi's  victorious  campaign.  The  Bay  of  Milazzo  haa 
been  the  scene  of  the  defeat  of  the  Carthaginian  navy  by  Duilios 
(260  B.O.),  of  Pompeius  by  Octavian's  general  Agrippa  (36  B.C.X  and 
of  the  French  and  Messinian  galleys  by  the  Pisans  (1268). 

MILDEW  (explained  as  "  meal-dew "  or,  with '  more 
probability,  aa  "honey-dew")  is  a  popular  name  giTen 
to  various  minute  fungi  from  their  appearance,  and  from 
tire  sudden,  dew-like  manner  of  their  occurrence.  Like 
many  other  popular  names  of  plants,  it  is  used  to  denote 
different  species  which  possess  very  small  botanical 
affinity.  The  term  is  applied,  not  only  to  species  be- 
longing to  various  systematic  groups,  but  also  to  snch 
as  follow  different  modes  of  life.  The  corn-mildew, 
{he  hop-mildew,  and  the  vine-mildew  are,  for  example, 
parasitic  upon  living  plants,  and  the  mildews  of  damp  linen 
and  of  paper  are  saprophytes,  that  is,  they  subsist  on 
matter  which  is  already  dead.  It  is  generally  possible  to 
draw  a  distinct  line  between  parasitic  and  saprophytie 
fungi ;  a  species  which  attacks  the  living  body  of  its  host 
does  not  grow  on  dead  matter,  and  vice  versa.  This  is  true 
so  far  as  is  known  of  perhaps  all  the  higher  fungi  except 
Stiprohgnia  ferax  (Gniith.),  a  parasite  of  freshwater 
fishes  (especially  of  the  salmon),  which  also  grows  freely 
on  their  dead  bodies  and  on  those  of  llie'^  &c.  As  regards 
mildews  in  general,  the  conditions  of  life  end  growth  are 
mainly  suitable  nutrition  and  dampness  accompanied  by  a 
high  temperature.  The  life-history  of  the  same  species  of 
mildew  frequently  covers  two  or  more  generations,  and 
these  are  often  passed  on  hosts  of  different  kinds.  In 
some  cases  again  the  same  generation  confines  its  attack 
to  the  same  kind  of  host,  while  in  others  the  same  genera- 
tion grows  on  various  hosts.  For  information  regarding 
fun^  generally  see  Fungus,  vol.  ix,  p,  827. 

The  folloNving  examples  are  of  common  occurrence. 

The  Com-Mildeii!  {Fuectnia  graminis,  Pers.,  OrtJer 
Uredinese). — This  disease  of  our  grain  crops  and  of  many 
other  grass  plants  is  very  widely  distributed,  like  its  hosts, 
over  the  earth,  and  is  by  far  the  most  important  to  man  of 
all  mildews.  Its  life-history  is  passed  in  three  generations 
— two  of  them  on  the  grass  plants  and  one  on  the  barberry. 
In  early  spring  the  first  generation  is  found  on  the  dead 
leaves  and  leaf-sheaths  of  grass  plants  (in  which  the 
disease  has  hibernated),  presenting  to  the  naked  eye  the 
appearance  of  thin  black  streaks.  When  examined  with  a 
microscope  these  streaks  are  seen  to  consist  of  a  great 
number  of  minute  two-celled  and  thick-walled  teleutosporea 

i reproductive  bodies),  each  situated  at  the  end  of  a  stalk 
tee  A  in  fig.  2,  vol.  ix.  p.  831).  These  have  burst  through 
the  epidermis  of  the  plant  from  their  origin  on  threads 
among  the  tissues  beneath.  When  they  have  been  in 
contact  with  excessive  moisture  for  a  few  hours,  each  of 
the  8pore<ells  germinates  by  emitting  a  fine  tube  called  a 
promycelium,  on  which  there  are  borne  small  round  tUn- 
walled  sporidia  (reproductive  bodies).  The  sporidia  are 
easily  detached  and  carried  from  place  to  place  by  the 
wind,  and  on  alighting  on  the  leaves  of  a  barberry  pkot 


2l»4 


MI  E  — M  I  L 


soon  germinate  by  pushing  out  a  small  tube  ivhich  jjer- 
forates  the  epidermis  and  thus  gains  access  to  the  interior 
of  the  leaf,  where  it  branches  copiously,  and  forms  a  mass 
of  thread-like  tissue  called  mycelium.  The  germ-tubes  of 
sporidia  are  unable  to  enter  the  leaves,  itc.,  of  grass  plants. 
In  from  si.x  to  ten  days  this  mycelium  gives  rise  to  Hask- 
sh.iped  bodies  called  .spermogonia  (vol.  ix.  p.  831,  fig.  2 
B,  sj>),  immediately  under  the  surface  of  the  leaf  (usually 
the  upper  one),  but  breaking  through  it  at  the  neck  of  the 
'fla.sk,  out  of  which  there  protrudes  a  bunch  of  hairs. 
Within  the  flatsks  are  formed  at  the  end  of  stalks  many 
exceedingly  small  oval  bodies  called  spermatia,  which  escape 
through  the  neck.  'The  function  of  these  bodies  has  not  yet 
been  definitely  made  out,  but  that  they  bear  a  very  strik- 
ing resemblance  to  the  male  sexual  organs  of  other  fungi 
there  can  be  uo  doubt.  In  the  same  leaves  and  on  the  same 
mycelium  there  arise  several  days  later  numerous  basin- 
shaped  bodies  containing  erect  stalks,  bearing  at  the  apex 
R  number  of  round  Kcidiospores  (reproductive  bodies)  iu 
vertical  series  (vol.  ix.  p.  831,  fig.  2  B,  a).  These  con- 
stitute the  second  generation.  On  their  escape  they 
germinate  by  emitting  a  tube  which,  if  the  host  on  which 
they  fall  be  a  grass  plant,  .enters  the  leaf  through  one  of 
the  stomata  in  the  epidermis,  and  there  by  branching  forms 
a  new  mycelium.  On  this  there  soon  appears,  bursting 
through  the  epidermis,  a  new  generation  consisting  of  round 
or  oval  uredospores  produced  at  the  end  of  stalks  (vol.  ix. 
p.  831,  fig.  2  C).  The  uredospores  constantly  reproduce 
this  generation,  and  in  such  abundance  that  the  grain  crops 
Li-e  extensively  ravaged  by  its  attack.  It  is  m  this  genera- 
tion that  the  term  mildew  is  po[iularly  given  to  the  fungus. 
Later  in  autumn  on  the  same  mycelium  the  two-celled 
teleutospores  appear,  and  these  after  hibernating  renew  in 
spring  the  life-history.  This  very  remarkable  cycle  of 
generations  was  first  traced  by  Professor  de  Bary. 

The  Eop-MiUUw  {Sphserothcac  C'usta(/nci,  Lev.,  Order  Erysi- 
ph-:x)  U  a  para-sitic  disease  of  the  hop,  though  it  is  often  to  be 
found  ou  many  other  plants,  such  ns  Potaitilla,  SpiraM,  Epilolitiin, 
balsams,  cucumbers,  dandelions,  plantains,  &c.  The  thread-Uko 
mycelium  appears  on  the  young  shoots  and  leaves  of  the  hop  in 
white  spots,  which  gradually  extend  and  finally  unite.  This 
mycelium  bears  many  minute,  round  conceptacles  (perilhecia)  which 
with  their  supporting  threads  are  brown-coloured.  "Within  each 
perithecium  is  found  a  somewhat  oval  body  termed  an  aicus,  con- 
taining eight  ascospores  (reproductive  bodies). 

The  Viiu:-MiUlcii)  {Enjsiphc  Tii(kcri,  Berk.,  Order  Erysiphem)  is 
known  only  iu  one  generation — called  the  oidium  stage.  Soon  after 
the  flowering  of  the  vine  the  attack  takes  place  on  the  young  leaves, 
from  which  the  thin  white  mycelium  spreads  rapidly  to  the  older 
leaves  and  twigs,  which  it  does  not  appear  to  allcct  so  injuriously. 
The  chief  damage  is  done  to  the  grapes  while  they  arc  iu  a  very 
immature  condition.  The  mycelium  which  travels  over  the  surface 
sends  down  at  intervals  into  the  tissues  shoit  irregular  protuber- 
ances called  haustoria,  which  perform  for  it  the  functions  of  roots. 
Above  these  rise  h'om  the  mycelium  short  stalks  bearing  each  a  single 
oval  spore  at  the  apex.  The  disease  spreads  ou  the  same  plant  not 
only  by  the  extension  of  the  myceliUm  but  by  the  scattering  and 
germination  of  the  spores.     Here  no  perithecia  are  known. 

The  Paper- MUdew\Asa>lriclia diarUiium,  Uel k. ,  Order Erysiphae) 
grows  oil  damp  liaper,  and  therefore  is  saprophytic  in  its  mode  of 
Ufe.  It  consists  ut  first  of  a  branching  falaineiitous  mycelium  on 
which  minute  globular  sjiores  occur.  Finally  a  round  bi'own  peri- 
thecium is  formed  among  the  threads  which  appear  as  radiating 
from  it.  Within  the  perithecium  arc  numerous  linear  asci  contain- 
ing each  c  row  of  dark  elliiitic  ascostiores. 

For  the  Erysipli/:ic  generally  sec  Fuxofs,  vol.  ix.  p.  833. 
MILETUS,  an  ancient  city  on  the  southern  .shore  of 
the  Latmic  Gulf  opposite  the  mouth  of  the  Marauder. 
Before  the  Ionic  migration  it  was  inhabited  by  the  Carians 
(Iliad  ii.  876 ;  Herod,  i.  1 16) ;  other  authorities  call  the 
origiual  people  Leleges,  who  aic  always  hard  to  distinguish 
from  Carians.  The  Greek  settlers  from  Pylus  under 
Neleus  mas.sacred  all  the  men  in  the  city,  and  built  for 
theiu-selves  a  new  city  on  the  coast.  It  occupied  a  very 
favourable  situation  at  the  mouth  of  the  rich  valley  of 
the  Mxander,   and  was  the  natural  outlet  for  the  trade 


of  .southern  Phrygia  (Hipponax,  Ft:  45);  it  had  four 
harbours,  one  of  considerable  size.  Its  power  extended 
inland  for  some  distance  uii  the  valley  of  the  Jheander, 
and  along  the  coast  to  the  south,  where  it  founded  the  city 
of  lasus.  The  trade  with  the  Black  Sea,  however,  was 
the  greatest  source  of  wtalth  to  the  Ionian  cities.  Miletua 
Uke  the  rest  turned  its  attention  chiefly  to  the  north,  and 
after  a  time  it  succeeded  iu  almost  monopolizing  the  traffic. 
Along  the  Hellespont,  the  Propontis,  and  the  Black  Sea 
coasts  it  founded  more  than  sixty  cities — among  them 
Abydus,  Cyzicus,  Sinope,  Dioscurias,  rautieapa;uni,  and 
Olbia.  All  these  cities  were  founded  before  the  middle  of 
the  7th  century  ;  and  before  500  B.C.  Miletus  was  decidedly 
the  greatest  Greek  city.  During  the  time  when  the  enter- 
prise and  energy  of  the  seafaring  population,  the  iiii'a.vrai, 
raised  Miletus  to  such  power  and  wealth,  nothing  is  known 
of  its  internal  history.  The  analogy  of  all  Greek  cities, 
and  some  casual  statements  in  later  writers,  suggest  thai 
the  usual  bloody  struggles  took  place  between  the  oligarchy 
and  the  democracy,  and  that  tyrants  sometimes  raised 
themselves  to  supreme  power  in  the  city ;  but  no  detail! 
are  knorni.  Miletus  was  ecjiually  distinguished  at  this  early 
time  as  a  scat  of  literature.  The  Ionian  epic  and  lyrio 
poetry  indeed  had  its  home  farther  norlh  ;  philosophy  anc) 
history  were  more  akin  to  the  practical  race  of  Miletun, 
and  Thales,  Anaximander,  Anaximenes,  Hecatiuus,  aL 
belonged  to  thia  city.  The  three  Ionian  cities  of  Caria-^ 
Miletus,  Myus,  and  Priene — .spoke  a  peculiar  dialect  ol 
Ionic' 

^^^len  the  Mcrmnad  kings  raised  Lydia  to  be  a  gre^t 
ir^ilit^iry  kingdom,  Miletas  was  their  strongest  adversary. 
AVii;  >\as  carried  on  for  many  years,  till  Alyattes  concluded 
a  peace  with  Thrasybulus,  tyrant  of  Miletus  ;  the  ililesians 
afterwards  seem  to  have  picaccahly  acknowledged  the  rule  of 
Crtesus.  On  the  Persian  conquest  Miletus  jjasscd  under  a 
new  master  ;  it  headed  the  revolt  of  500  B.C.,  <£Dd  was 
taken  by  storm  after  the  battle  of  Lade.  Darius  treated 
it  with  peculiar  severity,  mas.sacred  most  of  the  inH^bitants, 
transported  the  rest  to  Ampc  at  the  moutti  of  the  Tigris, 
and  gave  up  the  city  to  the  Carian,s.  Henceforth  the 
history  of  Miletus  has  no  .special  interest ;  it  revived  indeeil 
when  the  Persians  wereexi)ulled  from  the  coast  in  479  BC, 
and  was  l  town  of  commercial  imjjortanee  throughout  the 
Gra;co-Roman  period,  when  it  sharud  in  the  general  fortunes 
of  the  Ionian  cities  under  the  rule'cf  Atheniarj.s,  Pwsians, 
Macedonians,  Pergamenian.s,  and  Tlomans  in  svKBcssion. 
Its  harbours,  once  protected  by*  Lade  and  the  other 
Tragusaan  islands,  were  gradually  silted  up  by  the 
Ma:ander,  and  Lade  is  now  a  hill  some  miles  from  tlio  coast. 
Ephesus  took  its  place  as  the  great  Ionian  harboiir  in  tho 
Hellenistic  and  lioman  times.  It  was  tho  scat  of  a 
Christian  bishopric,  but  its  decay  wa.s  sure,  and  its  site  ia 
now  a  marsh. 

See  Schiocdcr,  Commettl.  lie  Jicb.  .Vila.;  SolJan,  Xrr.  Vila. 
Comim-iil.  ;  Uayet,  Mild  H  h  Oolfc  Lnhnir/iir;  Head,  "Early  Elec- 
trum  Coins,"  in  Numisin.  C/iroii.,  vol.  xvi, 

MILFORD,  a  seaport,  market-town,  and  contributory 
parliamentary  borough  (one  of  the  Pembroke  district) 
of  Pembrokeshire,  South  Wales,  Ls  finely  situated  on 
the  north  side  of  Milford  Haven,  about  i?  miles  west- 
northwest  of  Pembroke.  The  land-locked  estuary  of 
llilford  Haven  stretches   about  10  miles  inland,  with  a 

'  The  coinage  of  Militus  during  this  early  (leriod  is  an  imiwrtant 
subject  ou  account  of  the  wide  loniiiiertial  coniiexioui.  of  the  city. 
The  early  clcctnim  coinage  belong,  to  the  IMi'euicinn  or  Gneco-Asiatic 
standard,  which  was  iiitr»luce<l  from  I'liauicia  and  spread  over  niauj, 
of  the  Ionian  and  Thrncian  cillis  through  the  inHucucc  of  Milesian 
trade.  Very  archaic  coins  of  Miletus,  Kphesus,  Cyiue,  anil  Sardis  ars 
known  of  this  staiidaril,  and  at  a  somewhat  later  dale  of  t:hio«,  Sainos, 
Clnzomeno',  Unipsacus,  Abydus,  and  Cyzieus.  Tli«  liou  it  the  ngaiu, 
Milesian  \yiv.  uUna  with  a  ntui  builuii  ur.aUove  liim. 


MIL"  mi  L 


2^d 


breadth  of  from  1  to  2  miles.  In  most  places  it  iiasia 
depth  of  from  15  to  19  fathoms,  and,  as  it  is-  complete!; 
sheltered  by  hills,  vessels  can  ride  in  it  at  anchor  in  all 
kinds  of  weather.  The  royal  dockyard,  founded  at 
Milford  in  1790,  was  removed  in  1811,  and  from  that  time 
trade  has  been  in  a  languishing  condition.  The  town 
possesses  iron-works.  The  shipping  trade  is  confined 
chiefly  to  coasting  vessels,  but  with  the  completion  of  new 
docks,  capable  of  receiving  ve^els  of  the  largest  tonnage, 
It  is  supposed  that  a  considerable  trade  may  be  carried  on 
with  America.  The  population  of  the  urban  sanitary  dis- 
trict in  1871  was  3252,  and  in  1881  it  was  3813. 

MILFORD,  a  post-village  of  the  United  States,  in 
Worcester  county,  Massachusetts,  lies  34  miles  southwest 
of  Boston,  at  the  junction  of  the  Milford  branch  of  the 
Boston  and  Albany  Railroad  with  the  Hopkinton,  Milford, 
and  Woonsocket  Railroad.  It  is  one  of  the  principal  seats 
of  the  boot  manufacture  in  New  England,  and  also  pro- 
duces large  quantities  of  straw  goods.  The  population 
was  9310  in  1880. 

MILICZ,  or  MiLiTSCH,  of  Kremsier,  Moravia,  was  the 
most  influential  among  those  preachers  and  ^TTiters  in 
M9ravia  and  Bohemia  who  during  the  14th  century  paved 
the  way  for  the  reforming  activity  of  Huss  and  through 
him  for  that  of  Luther.  He  was  born  about  1325,  was 
already  in  holy  orders  in  1350,  in  1360  was  attached  to 
the  court  of  the  emperor  Charles  IV.,  whom  he  accompanied 
into  Germany  in  that  year,  and  about  the  same  time  also 
held  a  canonry  in  the  cathedral  of  Prague  along  with  the 
dignity  of  archdeacon.  About  1363  he  resigned  all  his 
appointments  that  he  might  become  a  preacher  pure  and 
simple ;  he  addressed  scholars  in  Latin,  and  (an  innovation) 
the  laity  in  their  native  Czech,  or  in  German,  which  he 
acquired  for  the  purpose.  The  success  of  his  labours  in 
reclaiming  the  fallen  made  itself  apparent  in  the  reforma- 
tion of  a  whole  quarter  of  the  city  of  Prague.  As  he  dwelt 
more  and  more  on  ecclesiastical  abuses  and  the  corruption 
of  the  clergy,  and  viewed  them  in  the  light  of  Scripture, 
the  conviction  grew  in  his  mind  that  the  "  abomination  of 
desolation  "  was  now  seen  in  the  temple  of  God,  and  that 
antichrist  had  come,  and  in  1367  he  went  to  Rome  (where 
Urban  V.  was  expected  from  Avignon)  to  expound  these 
views.  He  affixed  to  the  gate  of  St  Peter's  a  placard 
announcing  his  sermon,  but  before  he  could  deliver  it  was 
thromi  into  prison  by  the  Inquisition.  Urban,  however, 
on  his  arrival  ordered  his  release,  whereupon  he  returned  to 
Prague,  and  from  1369  to  1372  preached  daily  in  the  Teyn 
Church  there.  In  the  latter  year  the  clergy  of  the  diocese 
complained  of  him  to  the  papal  court  at  Avignon,  whither 
he  was  summoned  in  Lent  1374,  and  where  he  died  before 
his  case  was  decided.  He  was  the  author  of  a  Libelltts  de 
Antichristo,  written  in  prison  at  Rome,  a  series  of  Postillss 
and  Ledioiies  Qitadrar/esimales  in  Latin,  and  a  similar 
series  of  Posdh  in  Czech. 

MILITARY  FROXTEER  (German,  MUitargrenze; 
Slavonic,  Granitza),  a  narrow  strip  of  Austrian-Hungarian 
territory  stretching  along  the  borders  of  Turkey,  which 
had  for  centuries  a  peculiar  military  organization,  and  from 
1849  to  1873  constituted  a  crown-land.  As  a  separate 
division  of  the  monarchy  it  owed  its  existence  to  the 
necessity  of  maintaining  during  the  15th,  16th,  and  17th 
centuries  a  strong  line  of  defence  against  the  invasions  of 
the  Turks,  and  may  be  said  to  have  had  its  origin  with 
the  estabUshment  of  the  captaincy  of  Zengg  by  Matthias 
Corvinus  and  the  introduction  of  Uskoks  (fugitives  from 
Turkey)  into  the  Warasdin  district  by  the  emperor 
Ferdinand  I.  By  the  close  of  the  17th  century  there  were 
three  frontier  "  generalates  " — Carlstadt,  Warasdin,  and 
Petrinia  (the  k&t  also  called  the  Banal).  After  the  defeat 
of  the  Turkish  power  by  Prince  Eugene  it  waa  proposed  to 


^Bolish  tHe  military'  constitution  of  the  frontier,  bflt  tSf 
chaiSbejras  succeisafuljy  resisied  byJae'mhabLtantsSJ  Ih,- 
nistncfl  ""  the  fstner  hanO,  a  nen"  SlaVuuiau  irontier  di»-' 
tnct  was  eslablished  in  1702,  and  Maria  Theresa  extended 
the  organization  to  the  march-lands  of  Transylvania  (the 
Szekler  frontier  in  1764,  the  W-allachian  in  1766).' 

As  a  reward  for  the  service  it  rendered  the  Government 
in  the  suppression  of  the  Hungarian  insurrection  in  1848, 
the  Military  Frontier  was  erected  in  1849  into  a  crown-land, 
^th  a  total  area  of  15,182  square  miles,  and  a  population 
of  1,220,503.  In  1851  the  Transylvanian  portion  (1177 
square  miles)  was  incorporated  with  the  rest  of  Transyl- 
vania ;  and  in  1871  effect  was  given  to  the  imperial  decrea 
of  1869  by  which  the  districts  of  the  Warasdin  regiments 
(St  George  and  the  Cross)  and  the  towns  of  Zengg,  Belovar, 
IvaniJ,  ic,  were  "provincialized"  or  incorporated  with 
the  Croatian-Slavonian  crown-land.  In  1872  the  Banat 
regiments  followed  suit;  and  in  1873  the  old  military 
organization  was  abolished  in  all  the  rest  of  the  frontier. 
Not  till  1881,  however,  were  the  Croatian-Slavonian 
march-lands  completely  merged  in  the  kingdoms  to  which 
they  naturally  belonged 

The  social  aspect  of  the  military  frontier  regime  is  interesting. 
a.  communal  sj'stcm  of  land  tenure  natural  to  the  old  Slavoiiiana 
was  artificially  kept  In  existence.  The  mark  or  plot  of  ground 
assigned  to  the  original  family  of  settlers  i"emained  the  property  of 
the  familyassuch,  andcouldnot  be  portioned  out  among  the  several 
members.  In  this  way  the  house-community,  all  under  the  rule 
of  the  same  house-father  and  house-mother  (who  were  not  neces- 
sarily man  and  wife,  nor  the  oldest  members  of  the  community), 
aud  all  living  within  the  same  palisade,  sometimes  came  to  num- 
ber two  or  three  hundred  persons.  The  "family"  dined  in  a  com- 
mon hall,  and  after  dinner  discussed  and  settled  matters  affecting 
the  common  weal.  Eveiy  man  possessing  real  property  in  the 
country,  and  capable  of  bearing  arras,  was  liable  to  military  service 
from  his  twentieth  year.  The  house-communities  are  now  begin- 
ning to  avail  themselves  of  the  permissive  partition  laws,  and 
strangeiTs  are  free  to  come  and  acouire  property  in  land.  Watch- 
towers  with  wooden  clappers  ana  the  beacons  which  flashed  the 
alarm  along  the  whole  frontier  in  a  few  hours  are  still  features  in 
the  landscape. 

MILITARY  LAW  consists  of  tUe  statute-s,  rules  of  pro- 
cedure, royal  warrants,  and  orders  and  regulations  which 
prescribe  and  enforce  the  public  obligations  of  the  officers, 
soldiers,  and  others  made  subject  to  its  provisions.  Its 
essential  purpose  is  the  maintenance  of  discipline  ;  but  it 
also  includes  the  administrative  government  of  the  military 
forces  of  the  state,  more  especially  in  the  matters  of  enlist- 
ment, service,  and  billeting.  The  term  "martial  law" 
sometimes  apphed  to  it  is,  as  regards  modern  times  at  least, 
a  misnomer.  For  martial  law  as  it  is  now  understood 
applies  not  only  to  military  persons  but  to  the  civil  com- 
munity, and  may  be  described  generally  as  the  abrogation 
of  ordinary  law  and  the  substitution  for  it  of  military 
force  uncontrolled  save  by  what,  in  the  discretion  of  the 
commanding  general,  may  be  considered  the  necessity  of 
the  case. 

The  military  law  of  England  in  early  times  existed,  like 
the  forces  to  which  it  applied,  in  a  period  of  war  only. 


'  By  1S48  the  following  had  come  to  be  the  division  of  the  Militaiy 
Frontier:— (1)  The  Carlstadt  (Carlowttz),  Warasdin,  and  Hanoi 
Generalnie  :  the  Liccu  Regiment  (headquarters  at  Gospic)t),  the  Otto- 
cliaz  Iteginient  (Ottochaz),  the  Ogulin  (Ogulin),  the  Sluin  (Carlstadt), 
tlie  Cross  (Belovar),  the  St  Geoi-ge's  (Belovar),  the  1st  Banal  (Glina), 
the  2d  Banal  (Petrinia).  (2)  Tlie  Slavonian  Otneralale:  the  Gradiska 
Regiment  (Neu  Giadiska),  the  Brood  Regiment  (Vinkoveze),  the  Peter- 
wardein  (llitrovicz),  the  Tcli.iikist  BatUlion  (Titel).  (3J  The  Hanoi 
O'oieralale :  the  German  Banat  Regiment  (Pancsova),  the  Wallachiatt 
Banat  (Karansebes),  the  Illjrian  Banat  (Weisskirchen).  (4)  7/«  Tran- 
sjhaiiian  Genemlule:  The  Szekler  Regiment  No.  14  (Csik  Szered«)w 
the  Szekler  Regiment  No.  16  (Keszdi  Vasarbely),  the  WaUachian  NoJ 
16  (Orlath),  the  WaUachian  No.  17  (Naszo-l).  Twelve  towns,  knowJ 
as  "military  communities"  had  communal  constitutions  not  unlike 
those  of  the  free  towns  of  Hungary— Car iopago,  Zengg,  Petrinia,  Kon- 
tJiiuicza,  Belovar,  Ivauif,  BroOj^  P£terw»rdein,  CarbwiU.^Semli*^ 
Paacaova,  and  Weiaskirrhpn. 


296 


MILITARY     LAW 


IVnops  were  raised  for  a  partienlar  serrice,  and  were  dis- 
banded uion  the  cessation  of  hostilitif^  The  cromi,  of  its 
mere  prerogative,  made  laws  known  as  Articles  of  War, 
for  the  government  and  discipline  of  tbe  troops  while  thun 
eml)odie<.l  and  serving.  Except  for  the  punishment  of 
desertion,  which  offence  was  made  a  felony  by  statute  in 
the  reign  of  Henry  VI.,  the."!e  ordinances  or  Articles  of 
ViHT  remained  almost  the  sole  authority  for  the  enforce- 
tcent  of  discipline  until  1C89,  when  the  first  Mutiny  Act 
was  pas.>ied  and  the  military  forces  of  the  crown  were 
brought  under  the  direct  control  of  parliament.  Even  the 
Parliamentary  forces  in  the  time  of  Charles  I.  and  Cromwell 
were  governed,  not  by  an  Act  of  the  Icgi.'ilature,  but  by 
articles  of  war  similar  to  those  issued  by  the  king  and 
authorized  by  an  ordinance  of  the  Lords  and  Commons, 
exercising  in  that  respect  the  sovereign  prerogative.  This 
jxjwer  of  law-making  by  prerogative  was,  however,  held  to 
be  applicable  during  a  state  of  actual  war  only,  and 
attempts  to  exercise  it  in  time  of  peace  were  ineffectual. 
Subject  to  this  limitation  it  existed  for  considerably  more 
than  a  century  after  the  passing  of  the  first  Mutiny  Act. 
From  1G89  to  1803,  although  in  peace  time  the  Mutiny 
Act  was  occasionally  suffered  to  expire,  a  statutory  [tower 
was  given  to  the  crown  to  make  Articles  of  War  to  operate 
in  the  colonies  and  elsewhere  beyond  the  seas  in  the  same 
manner  as  those  made  by  prerogative  operated  in  time  of 
war.  In  17 lo,  in  consequence  of  the  rebellion,  this  power 
was  created  in  respect  of  the  forces  in  the  kingdom.  But 
these  enactments  were  apart  from  and  in  no  respect  affected 
the  principle  acknowledged  all  this  time  that  the  crown  of 
its  mere  prerogative  could  make  laws  for  the  government 
of  the  army  in  foreign  countries  in  time  of  war.  The 
Mutiny  Act  of  180.3  effected  a  great  constitutional  change 
in  this  respect :  the  power  of  the  crown  to  make  any 
Articles  of  War  became  altogether  statutory,  and  the  pre- 
rogative merged  iu  the  Act  of  Parliament.  So  matters 
remained  till  the  year  1879,  when  the  last  Mutiny  Act 
was  passed  and  the  last  Articles  of  War  were  promulgated. 
The  Mutiny  Act  legislated  for  offences  in  respect  of  which 
death  or  penal  servitude  could  be  awarded,  and  the 
Articles  of  War,  while  repeating  those  provisions  of  the 
Act,  constituted  thq  dii-ect  authority  for  dealing  with 
offences  for  which  imprisonment  was  the  maximum  punish- 
ment as  well  as  with  many  matters  relating  to  trial  and 
procedure.  The  Act  and  the  Articles  were  found  not  to 
liannonize  in  all  respects.  Their  general  arrangement  was 
faulty,  and  their  language  sometimes  obscure.  In  18G9  a 
royal  commission  recommended  that  both  should  be  recast 
iu  a  .simple  and  intelligible  shajK;.  Iu  1878  a  committee 
of  the  House  of  Commons  endorsed  this  view  and  made 
certain  recommendations  as  to  the  way  iu  which  the  task 
should  be  performed.  In  1870  the  Government  submitted 
to  parliament  and  passed  into  law  a  measure  consolidating 
in  one  Act  both  the  Mutiny  Act  and  the  Articles  of  War, 
and  amending  their  provisions  in  certain  important  respects. 
This  measure  was  called  the  "Army  Discipline  and 
Regulation  Act,  1879."  After  one  or  two  years'  exiierience 
of  its  working  it  also  was  found  capable  of  improvement, 
and  was  in  it.s  turn  superseded  by  the  Army  Act,  1881, 
which  now  forms  the  foundation  and  the  main  portion 
of  the  military  law  of  England.  It  contains  a  proviso 
saving  the  right  of  the  crown  to  make  Articles  of  War, 
but  in  such  a  manner  as  to  render  the  power  in  effect 
a  nullity  ;  for  it  enacts  that  no  crime  made  punishable  by 
the  Act  shall  be  otherwise  inmishable  by  such  Articles. 
As  the  punishment  of  every  conccivalile  offence  is  provided 
for  by  the  Act,  any  Articles  made  thereunder  can  be  no 
more  than  an  empty  formality  having  no  practical  effect. 
Thus  the  history  of  English  military  law  up  to  1879  may 
be  divided  into  three  periods,  each  having  a  diatinct  con- 


stitutional a3i>cct : — (1)  that  prior  to  1G89,  when  the  army, 
being  regarded  as  so  many  personal  retainers  of  the 
sovereign  rather  than  servants  of  the  state,  was  mainly 
governed  by  the  will  of  the  sovereign ;  (2)  that  between 
1689  and  1803,  when  the  army,  being  recognized  as  a.  per- 
manent force,  was  governed  within  the  realm  by  statute 
and  without  it  by  the  prerogative  of  the  crown ;  and  (3) 
that  from  1803  to  1879,  when  it  was  governed  either 
directly  by  statute  or  by  the  sovereign  under  an  authority 
derived  from  and  defined  and  limited  by  statute.  Although 
in  1879  the  power  of  making  Articles  of  War  became  in 
effect  altogether  inoperative,  the  sovereign  was  empowered 
to  make  rules  of  procedure,  having  the  force  of  law,  which 
regulate  the  administration  of  the  Act  in  many  matters 
formerly  dealt  with  by  the  Articles  of  War.  These  rules, 
however,  must  not  be  inconsistent  with  the  provisions  of 
the  Army  Act  itself,  and  must  be  laid  before  parliaaueut 
immediately  after  they  are  made.  Thus  in  1879  the 
government  and  discipline  of  the  army  became  for  the  first 
time  completely  subject  either  to  the  direct  action  or  the 
close  supervision  of  parliament. 

A  further  notable  change  took  place  at  the  same  time. 
The  JIutiny  Act  had  been  brought  into  force  on  each 
occasion  for  one  year  only,  in  compliance  with  the  con- 
stitutional theory  that  the  maintenance  of  a  standing  army 
in  time  of  peace,  unless  with  the  consent  of  parliament,  is 
against  law.  Each  session  therefore  the  text  of  the  Act 
had  to  be  passed  through  both  Houses  clause  by  clause  and 
line  by  line.  The  Army  Act,  on  the  other  hand,  is  a  fixed 
permanent  code.  But  constitutional  traditions  are  fully 
respected  by  the  in.sertion  in  it  of  a  section  providing  that 
it  shall  come  into  force  only  by  virtue  of  an  annual  Act  of 
Parliament.  This  annual  Act  recites  the  illegality  of  a 
standing  army  in  time  of  peace  unless  with  the  consent  of 
parliament,  and  the  necessity  nevertheless  of  maintaining  a 
certain  number  of  laud  forces  (exclusive  of  those  serving 
in  India)  and  a  body  of  royal  marine  forces  on  shore,  and 
of  keeping  them  in  exact  discipline,  and  it  brings  into  force 
the  Army  Act  for  one  year. 

Military  law  is  thus  chiefly  to  be  found  in  the  Army  Act 
and  the  rules  of  procedure  made  thereunder,  the  Militia  Act, 
1882,  the  Reserve  Forces  Act,  18S2,  and  the  Volunteer 
Act,  18r.3,  together  with  certain  Acts  relating  to  the 
yeomanry,  and  various  royal  warrants  and  regulations. 
The  Army  Act  itself  i-s  however,  the  chief  authority. 
Although  the  comi'laint  has  l>een  sometimes  made,  and  not 
without  a  certain  amount  of  reason,  that  it  docs  not  accom- 
plish much  that  it  might  in  i>oint  of  brevity,  simplicity, 
and  clearness  of  expression,  it  is  a  very  comprehensive 
piece  of  legislation,  and  shows  some  distinct  improvements 
upon  the  old  Mutiny  Acts  and  Articles  of  War. 

The  persons  subject  to  military  law  are  the  officers  oa 
the  active  list  and  the  soldiers  nf  tlie  regular  forces  (includ- 
ing the  royal  marines),  the  i>ermancnt  staff  of  the  auxiliary 
(i.e.,  the  militia,  volunteer,  and  yeomanry)  forces,  and  the 
officers  of  the  militia.  The  above  persons  are  amenable  to 
its  provisions  at  all  times  except  while  embarked  on  board 
a  commissioned  ship  of  the  royal  navy,  when  they  becoma 
subject  to  the  Xaval  Disci[iline  Act  and  certain  orders  id 
council  made  under  its  authority.  Tho>e  who  are  subject  to 
military  law  in  certain  circumstances  only  arc^-officcrs  and 
men  while  serving  in  a  force  raised  out  of  the  United 
Kingdom  and  commanded  by  an  officer  of  the  regular 
forces ;  jKusioners  when  employed  in  military  service 
under  the  command  of  a  regular  officer ;  the  non-conmiis- 
sioned  officers  and  men  of  the  militia,  during  training, 
when  attached  to  the  regulars  or  when  jiermanently 
cmlxxlied  ;  the  officers  rtf  the  yeomanry  and  the  volunteer* 
when  in  corJiuand  of  or  attached  to  a  body  of  men  Mubject 
to  militflrj'  law,  or  when  their  corp»  is  on-Mtual  military 


MILITARY     LAW 


297 


seraea,  ot  when  ordered  on  duty  with  their  own  consent ; 
the  men  of  the  yeomanry  when  they  or  their  corps  are  being 
(rainedj  when  they  are  attached  to  or  acting  with  the 
regular  forces,  when  their  corps  is  on  actual  military  service, 
or  when  serving  in  aid  'of  the  civil  power ;  the  men  of  the 
volunteers  when  they  are  being  trained  with  or  are  attached 
to  any  body  of  troops,  or  when  their  corps  is  on  actual 
military  service ;  the  men  of  the  army  reserve  and  the 
militia  reserve  when  called  out  for  training  or  on  duty  in 
(Ltd  of  the  civil  power ;  any '  person  who  in  an  official 
capacity  equiv^ent  to  that  of  an  officer  accompanies  a 
body  of  troops  on  active  service  beyond  the  seas;  any 
person  accompanying  a  force  on  active  service  holding  a 
pass  from  the  general  entitling  him  to  be  treated  on  the 
footing  of  an  officer.  In  this  last  category  would  of  course 
be  included  newspaper  correspondents,  also  sutlers  and 
followers.  In  one  or  two  cases  persons  are  subjected 
to  military  law  to  a  limited  extent  and  in  respect  only  of 
certain  offences.  Thus  a  militiaman  even  when  not  out 
ffor  training  or  not  embodied  is  liable  to  a  military  trial 
and  punishment  for  fraudulent  enlistment  or  making  a 
false  answer  on  attestation.  In  the  same  meuiner  an  army 
reserve  man  may  be  tried  and  punished  by  court  martial 
for  neglect  to  appear  at  the  place  where  he  is  bound 
periodically  to  report  himself,  or  for  insubordination  to  his 
superiors  on  these  occasions,  or  for  any  fraud  in  connexion 
with  the  receipt  of  his  pay.  A  man  of  the  army  reserve 
6r  the  militia  reserve  has  the  legal  status  of  and  in  fact 
becomes  a  regular  soldier  when  called  out  on  occasions  of 
national  danger  or  emergency  under  the  sovereign's  pro- 
plamatioqL 

When  a  person  subject  to  military  law  commits  an 
offence  he  is  taken  into  military  custody,  which  means 
either  arrest  in  his  own  quarters  or  confinement.  He 
must  without  unnecessary  delay  be  brought  before  his 
commanding  officer,  who  upon  investigating  the  case  may 
dismiss  the  charge  if  in  his  discretion  he  thinks  it  ought 
not  to  be  proceeded  with,  or  may  take  steps  to  bring  the 
offender  before  a  court  martial  Where  the  offender  is  not 
au  officer  he  may  dispose  of  the  case  summarily,  the  limit 
of  his  power  in  this  respect  being  seven  days'  imprison- 
ment with  hard  labour,  fines  not  exceeding  10s.  for 
drunkenness,  certain  deductions  from  pay,  confinement  to 
barracks  for  twenty-eight  days,  this  involWng  severe  extra 
drills,  deprivations,  and  other  minor  punishments.  Where 
the  offence  is  absence  without  leave  for  a  period  exceeding 
seven  days,  the  commanding  officer  may  award  a  day's 
imprisonment  in  respect  of  each  day  of  such  absence  up 
to  twenty-one.  It  is  only  in  the  case  of  the  imprisonment 
exceeding  seven  days  that  the  evidence  before  the  com- 
manding officer  is  taken  on  oath,  and  then  only  in  the 
event  of  the  accused  so  desiring  it.  The  commanding 
officer  is  enjoined  by  regulation  not  to  punish  summarily 
the  more  serious  kind  of  offences,  but  his  legal  jurisdiction 
in  this  respect  is  without  limit  as  regards  any  soldier 
brought  before  him,  and  when  he  has  dealt  summarily 
with  a  case  the  accused  is  free  from  any  other  liability  in 
respect  of  the  offence  thus  disposed  of.  In  any  instance 
where  the  commanding  officer  has  summarily  awarded 
imprisonment,  fine,  or  deduction  from  pay,  the  accused 
may  claim  a  district  court  martial  instead  of  submitting 
to  the  award. 

Ordinary  courts  martial  are  of  tnree  kinds,  viz.: — (I)  a 
regimental  court  martial,  usually  convened  and  confirmed 
by  the  commanding  officer  of  the  regiment  or  detachment, 
presided  over  by  an  officer  not  under  the  rank  of  captain, 
oomposed  of  at  least  three  officers  of  the  regiment  or 
detachment  with  not  less  than  one  year's  service,  and 
Ikaving  a  maximum  power  of  punishment  of  forty-two  days' 
imprisonment  with    hard  labour ;  (2)  a  district    cjurt 


martial,  usually  convened  by  the  general  of  the  district, 
consisting  in  the  United  Kingdom,  India,  Malta,  and 
Gibraltar  of  not  less  than  five  and  elsewhere  of  not  less 
than  three  officers,  each  with  two  years'  service  or  more, 
and  having  a  maximum  power  of  punishment  of  two  years' 
imprisonment  with  hard  labour ;  (3)  a  general  court  martial, 
the  only  tribunal  having  authority  to  try  a  commissioned 
officer,  and  with  a  power  of  punishment  extending  to  death 
or  penal  servitude,  for  offences  for  which  these  penalties 
are  authorized  by  statute;  it  consists  of  not  less  than 
nine  officers  in  the  United  Kingdom,  India,  Malta,  and 
Gibraltar  and  of  five  elsewhere,  each  of  whom  must  have 
over  three  years'  service,  five  being  not  vmder  the  rank  of 
captain.  There  is  another  kind  of  tribunal  incidental  to 
service  in  the  field,  or  where,  in  the  case  of  an  offence 
against -the  person  or  property  of  an  inhabitant,  an  ordinary 
court  martial  cannot  be  held,  namely,  a  field  general  court 
martial  This  court  may  consist  of  three  officers  only,  and 
it  has  the  power  of  sentencing  to  death.  Another  kind  of 
court,  called  a  summary  court  martial,  may  be  held  where 
an  offence  has  been  committed  upon  active  service  and  an 
ordinary  court  cannot  be  conveniently  assembled.  In  the 
event  of  three  officers  not  being  available  it  may  consist  of 
two.  When  thus  constituted  it  can  award  only  a  "summary 
punishment"  or  imprisonment;  where  it  consists  of  three 
officers,  however,  it  can  sentence  to  death.  In  the  case  ol 
a  field  general  or  a  summary  court  martial  many  forma 
and  precautions  prescribed  in  the  case  of  ordinary  courts 
are  not  necessarily  observed,  the  whole  proceeding  being 
from  the  necessity  of  the  case  a  somewhat  rough  and  ready 
means  of  dealing  promptly  with  crime. 

The  Army  Act  prescribes  the  maximum  )iunishment  which  raaj 
be  inflicted  in  respect  of  each  offence.  That  of  death  is  incurred 
by  various  acts  of  treachery  or  cowardice  before  the  enemy,  or  by 
when  on  active  service  interfering  with  or  impeding  authority,  leav- 
ing without  orders  a  guard  or  post,  or  when  sentry  sleeping  or  being 
drunk  on  a  post,  plundering  or  committing  an  offence  against  tlM 
person  or  property  of  an  inhabitant,  intentionally  causing  fala* 
alarms,  or  deserting.  Whether  upon  active  service  or  not,  a  soldier 
also  becomes  liable  to  the  punishment  of  death  who  mutinies  or  ii>- 
cites  to  or  joins  in  or  connives  at  a  mutiny,  who  uses  or  offers  violence 
to  or  defiantly  disobeys  tlie  lawful  command  of  his  superior  officv 
when  in  the  execution  of  his  office.  Penal  servitude  is  the  maximum 
punishment  for  various  acts  and  irregularities  upon  active  scrvioo 
not  distinctly  of  a  treacherous  or  wilfully  injurious  character,  for 
using  or  offering  violence  or  insubordinate  language  to  a  su]ierior,  or 
disobeying  a  lawful  command  when  upon  active  service.  The  same 
punishment  is  applicable  when  not  upon  active  service  to  a  second 
offence  of  desertion  or  fraudulent  enlistment  (i.e.,  enlistment  by 
one  who  already  belongs  to  the  service),  certain  embezzlements  of 
public  property,  wilfully  releasing  without  authority  a  prisoner  or 
wilfully  permitting  a  prisoner  to  escape,  enlisting  when  previously 
discharged  from  the  sei-vice  with  disgrace  without  disclosing  the 
circumstances  of  such  discharge,  or  any  other  offence  which  by  the 
ordinary  criminal  law  of  England  is  punishable  with  penal  ser- 
vitude. Imprisonment  with  hard  labour  for  two  years  is  the 
maximum  punishment  for  minor  forms  and  degrees  of  those  offencee 
which  if  committed  upon  active  service  would  involve  death  or 
penal  servitude,  such  as  using  or  offering  violence  or  insubordinate 
language  to  a  superior  or  disobeying  a  lawful  command,  and  for  the 
following  offences: — resisting  an  escoit,  breaking  out  of  barmcka, 
neglect  of  orders,  a  first  offence  of  desertion  or  attempted  desertion 
or  aiding  or  conniviug  at  desertion,  or  of  fraudulent  enlistment, 
absence  without  leave,  failure  to  appear  at  parade,  going  beyond 
prescribed  bounds,  absence  from  school,  malingering  or  produc- 
ing disease  or  infirmity,  maiming  with  intent  to  render  a  soldier 
unfit  for  service,  an  act  of  a  fraudulent  nature,  disgraceful  con- 
duct of  a  cruel,  indecent,  or  unnatural  kind,  drunkenness,  releasing  a 
prisoner  without  proper  authority  or  allowing  him  to  escape,  bt-ing 
concerned  in  the  unreasonable  detention  of  a  person  awaiting  trial, 
escaping  or  attempting  to  escape  from  lawful  custody,  conniving  at 
exoroitant  exactions,  making  away  with,  losing  by  neglect,  or  wilfully 
injuring  military  clothiug  or  equipments,  ill-treating  a  horse  useJ 
in  the  serrice,  making  false  or  fraudulent  representations  in  public 
documents,  making  a  wilfully  false  accusation  against  an  officer  ot 
soldier,  making  a  false  confession  of  deserMon  or  fraudulent  enlist* 
ment,  or  a  false  statement  in  respect  of  the  prolongation  of  furloe^h. 
misconduct  as  a  witness  before  a  court  martial  or  contempt  of  eueli 
court,  giving  false  evidence  ou  oath,  any  offence  specified  in  reiatieo 
XVL  —  »8 


293 


Ma  L  I.T  A  R  Y     LAW 


to  billeting  or  the  impressment  of  carriages,  making  a  false  answer 
to  a  question  pnt  upon  attestation,  being  concerned  in  unlawful 
enliBtment,  using  traitorous  or  disloyal  words  regarding  the 
BJTereign,  disclosing  any  circumstance  relating  to  the  numbers, 
|)oeition,  movements,  or  other  circumstances  of  any  part  of  her 
jnajesty's  forces  so  as  to  produce  effects  injurious  to  her  majesty's 
service,  fighting  or  being  concerned  in  or  conniving  at  a  duel, 
attempting  suicide,  obstructing  the  civil  outhoiilies  in  the  apprehen- 
sion of  any  officer  or  soldier  accused  of  an  offence,  any  conduct, 
disorder,  or  neglect  to  the  prejudice  of  good  order  aud  military  dis- 
cipline, any  offence  which  if  committed  in  Englaud  would  I*  puuisli- 
able  by  the  law  of  EnglauiL  There  is  another  offence  which  can  be 
committed  by  officers  only,  namely,  "  scandalous  conduct  unbecom- 
ing the  character  of  an  officer  aiid  a  gentleman."  It  necessitates 
cashiering,  a  punishment  which  in  the  case  of  an  officer  may  be 
awarded  as  an  alternative  to  imprisounicnt  in  several  other  instances. 
There  is  also  an  offence  peculiar  to  officers  and  nou-conimissioned 
officers,  that  of  striking  or  ill-treating  a  soldier  or  unlawfully 
detaining  his  pay.  A  sentence  of  ciLsIiiering  as  distinguished  from 
that  of  dismissal  in  the  case  of  an  officer  involves  an  incapacity  to 
serve  the  crown  again.  An  officer  may  be  also  sentenced  to  forfeiture 
of  seniority  of  rank  and  to  reprimand  or  severe  rc-primand.  A 
non-commissioned  officer  may  bo  sentenced  to  be  reduced  to  a  lower 
grade  or  to  the  rauks,  and  where  sentenced  to  pen;d  servitude  or 
imprisonment  is  deemed  to  be  reduced  to  the  ranks.  The  com- 
mander-in-chief at  home  or  the  commander-in-chief  in  India  or  in 
either  of  the  presidencies  may  also  cause  a  non-commissioned  officer 
to  be  reduced  to  a  lower  gi-ade  or  to  the  ranks.  An  acting  non- 
commissioned officer  may  be  ordered  by  his- commanding  officer  for 
an  offencs  or  for  inefficiency  or  otherwise  to  revert  to  his  per- 
manent grude, — in  other  words,  to  forfeit  his  acting  rank- 
It  will  have  been  observed  that  persons  subject  to  military  law 
are  liable  to  be  tried  by  court  martial  for  offences  which  if  com- 
mitted in  England  would  be  punishable  by  the  ordinary  law,  and  to 
suffer  either  the  punishment  prescribed  by  the  ordinary  criminal 
law  or  that   authorized   for  soldiera   who  commit  offences  to  the 

f)rejudice  of  good  order  and  military  discipline.  The  effect  of  the 
alter  alternative  is  that  for  many  minor  offences  for  whicli  a  civilian 
is  liable  to  a  short  term  of  imprisonment,  or  perhaps  only  to  a  fine, 
a  soldier  may  be  awarded  two  years'  imprisonment  with  hard  labour. 
A  court  martial,  however,  cannot  take  cognizance  of  tlie  crimes  of 
treason,  murder,  manslaughter,  treason-feloiiA',  or  rape  if  committed 
in  the  United  KingdouL  If  one  of  these  offences  be  committed  in 
any  place  within  her  majesty's  dominions  other  than  the  United 
Kingdom  or  Gilw-altar,  a  court  martial  can  deal  with  it  only  if  it  be 
committed  on  active  service  or  in  a  place  more  than  100  miles  fronr 
a  civil  court  having  jurisdiction  to  try  the  offence.  With  regard  to 
all  civil  offences  th©  military  law,  it  is  to  bo  understood,  is  subor- 
dinate to  the  ordinary  Jpw,  and  a  civilian  aggrieved  by  a  soldier 
in  respect  of  a  criminal  offence  against  his  property  or  person 
does  not  forfeit  his  right  to  prosecute  the  soldier  as  if  he  were  a 
civilian. 

Xhe  crimes  for  which  soldiers  are  most  usually  tried  are  desertion, 
absence  without  leave,  loss  of  necessaries,  violence  or  insuboi-dina- 
tion  to  superiors,  drunkenness,  and  various  forms  of  conduct  to  the 
prejudice  of  disci|iline.  The  punishments  are  generally  speaking 
gauged  as  mucli  with  regard  to  the  character  and  antecedents  of 
the  prisoner  as  to  the  particular  offence.  For  a  first  offence  of  an 
ordinary  kind  a  district  court  martial  would  give  as  a  rule  fifty-six 
days'  imprisonment  with  hard  labour,  for  a  second  or  graver  crime 
eighty-four  days.  There  are  not  many  instances  in  which  the 
period  of  imprisonment  exceeds  six  months.  Corporal  punishment, 
which  had  been  practically  limited  to  offences  committed  upon 
active  service,  and  in  1879  to  crimes  punishable  with  death,  was 
finally  abolished  in  1881,  and  a  summary  punishment  substituted. 
This  siHnmary  punishment  includes  the  liability  for  a  term  of  three 
months  to  be  kept  in  iron- fetters  and  handcuffs,  aud  while  so  kept 
to  bo  attached  to  a  fixed  object  so  that  the  offender  may  remain  in 
a  fixed  position  for  a  period  not  exceeding  two  hours  in  the  day  for 
not  more  than  three  out  of  any  four  consecutive  days  and  for  not 
more  than  twenty-one  days  in  the  aggregate.  The  offender  may 
also  be  subjected  to  the  like  labour  and  restraint,  and  may  be  dealt 
iwith  in  the  samo  nmnner  as  if  sentenced  to  hard-labour  imnrison- 
raenL  But  th(?fti)  summary  inmishments  ore  to  be  inflicted  so  as 
not  to  cau<;e  injnry  to  healtti  or  leave  a  nermanent  mark  on  the 
offender.  Tlie  firet  instances  in  which  tliis  kind  of  punisliment 
,wa3  inflicted  occurred  during  the  campaign  of  1882  in  Egypt 
Estimated  by  the  results,  the  abolition  of  flogging  does  not  apjiear 
^o  have  injuriously  affected  discipline,  the  conduct  of  the  troops  in 
Egypt  having  been  exceptionally  good.  The  jiractice  of  marking  a 
soldier  with  the  letters  *'D"  (deserter)  or  "llC"  (bad  character). 
in  order  to  prevent  his  re-enlistment,  was  abolished  about  a  dozen 
years  ago  in  d<.'fcicnce  to  public  opinion,  which  erroneously  adopted 
the  idea  thut,  ih-i  "markmg"  was  effected  by  red-hot  irons  or  in 
some  other  manner  involving  torture  Military  men  for  the  moat 
part  regret  iU  abolition,  and  maintain  that  if  tlic  practice  were  still 
in  force  the  army  would  not  be  taiutcd  by  the  presence  of  many  bdd 


characters  who  finu  means  of  eluding  the  vigilance  of  the  authorities 
and  enlisting  after  pi-evioas  discharge. 

The  course  of  procedure  in  military  tiials  ia  as  follows.  'When  a. 
soldier  is  remanded  by  his  commanding  officer  for  trial  by  a  district 
or  general  court  martial,  a  copy  of  the  charge,  together  witU  tho 
statements  of  the  witnesses  for  the  prosecution  (called  the  sum- 
mary of  evidence),  is  furnished  to  him,  and  lie  is  given  piopir  opi>or- 
tunity  of  preparing  his  defence,  of  communicating  with  his  witnesses 
or  legal  adviser,  aud  of  procuring  the  attendance  of  his  witnesses. 
Further,  if  he  desires  it,  a  list  of  the  officers  appointed  to  form  the 
court  shall  be  given  him.  Any  officer  is  disqualified  to  hit  as  a 
member  who  has  convened  the  court,  wlio  is  the  prosecutor  or  a 
witness  for  the  prosecution,  who  has  made  the  prchniinary  injury 
into  the  facts,  who  is  the  prisoner's  commanding  officer,  or  who  has 
a  pei-sonal  interest  in  the  case.  The  prisoner  may  also  object  to 
any  officer  on  the  ground  of  bias  or  prejudice  similarly  as  a  ciriliau 
might  challenge  a  juror.  Except  as  regards  the  delay  caused  by 
tho  writing  out  of  the  evidence,  the  procedure  at  a  court  martial 
is  very  much  the  same  as  that  at  an  ordinary  criminal  trial,— the 
examination  and  cross-examination  of  the  witnesses,  addresses  of  tho 
prosecutor  and  prisoner,  aud  the  rules  governing  the  admission  or 
rejection  of  evidence  being  nearly  identical.  At  a  general  court 
martial,  and  sometimes  at  a  district  court,  a  Judge  advocate  repre- 
senting the  judge  advocate  general  officiates,  his  functions  being  very 
much  those  of  a  legal  assessor  to  the  court  He  advises  upon  all  points 
of  law,  and  sums  up  the  evidence  just  as  a  judge  charges  a  jury. 
When  the  prisoner  jileads  guilty  the  court  fimls  a  verdict  accord- 
ingly, reads  the  summary  of  evidence,  hears  any  statement  in 
mitigation  of  punishment,  aud  takes  evidence  as  to  character  before 
proceeding  to  pass  sentence.  The  sentence  is  that  of  the  majority 
of  the  court,  except  where  death  is  awarded,  when  two-thirds  of  tho 
members  in  the  case  of  a  general  court  martial  and  the  whole  iu 
that  of  a  field  general  court  martial  must  concur.  When  an  ac'iuitUd 
upon  all  the  charges  takes  place  the  verdict  is  announced  in  open 
court,  and  the  prisoner  is  released  without  any  further  proceeding. 
When  the  finding  is  "guilty,"  evidence  as  to  character  is  takeL, 
and  the  court  deliberates  in  private  upon  the  sentence,  but  the 
result  is  not  made  known  until  the  proceedings  are  eonfimied  and 
promulgated.  No  conviction  or  sentence  lias  any  effect  untU  it  is 
thus  confirmed  by  the  proper  authority.  The  confinning  authority 
in  the  case  of  a  regimental  court  is  the  comniauding  officer,  in  that 
of  a  district  court  martial  the  general  officer  commnndine.  the 
district,  and  in  that  of  a  general  court,  if  held,  in  the  United 
Kingdom  her  majesty,  and  if  abroad  in  most  cases  the  general  officer 
commanding.  The  c^anfirftiing  authority  may  order  the  reaiscnibling 
of  the  court  in  order  that  an  J  question  or  irregularity  may  be  revised 
and  corrected,  but  not  for  the  purpose  of  increasing  a  sentence.  He 
may,  however,  of  his  own  discretion,  and  without  further  reference 
to  the  court,  refuse  confirmation  to  the  whole  or  any  portion  of  tha 
finding  or  sentence,  and  he  may  mitigate,  commute,  or  entirely 
remit  the  punishment  In  thj  case  of  a  general  court  martial 
the  proceedings  are  sent  to  the  judge  advocate  general,  who  submits 
to  the  queen  his  opinion  as  to  the  legality  of  the  trial  and  sentence. 
If  they  are  legal  m  all  respects  he  sends  the  proceedings  to  the 
commander-in-chief,  upon  whom  rests  the  duty  of  advising  the  queea 
regarding  the  exercise  of  clemency.  In  addition  to  confirmation,' 
however,  every  general  or  district  court  martial  held  out  of  India 
lias  another  ordeal  to  go  through.  It  is  reviewed  and  examined  in 
the  office  of  tlu  judge  advocate  general,  and  any  illegality  that  may 
be  disclosed  is  corrected  and  the  prisoner  is  relieved  of  the  con- 
sequences. To  a  lertaiu  extent  a  protection  against  illegality  also 
exists  in  thecase  of  regimental  courts  martial.  A  mon4lily  return 
of  those  held  in  each  regiment  is  laid  before  the  general  command- 
ing  the  district  or  brigade,  by  whom  any  question  that  might  appear 
to  him  doubtful  would  be  referred  to  the  adjutant  genei-al  or  tU«* 
^udge  advocate  general  for  decision.  It  is  to  be  noted,  liowever,  that 
the  judge  advocate  gsneral,  although  fulfilling  duties  which  arc  in 
their  nature  judicial,  is  only  an  adviser.  He  is  not  actually  a  judge 
in  an  executive  sense,  and  has  no  authority  directly  to  interfere  with 
or  correct  an  illegal  conviction.  In  many  cases  the  law  thus  pro- 
vides no  rt- mcdy  lor  an  officer  or  soldier  who  may  have  been  wronged 
by  the  finding  or  sentence  of  a  court  martial, — for  instance,' 
through  a  verdict  not  justified  by  tho  evidence  or  through  a  non- 
observance  of  tho  rules  aud  practice  prescribed  for  these  tribunalB.1 
A  person  who  has  suffered  injustice  may  appeal  to  the  Queen's  Uencli' 
division  of  the  high  court  of  justice.  But,  speaking  gencrnlly,  that 
tribunal  would  not  interfere  with  a  court  martial  exercising  its 
jurisdiction  within  the  law  as  regards  the  prisoner,  the  crime,  and 
tho  sentence.  In  most  cases,  therefore,  tho  virtu.il  protector  of  nn 
accused  |>crson  against  illegality  is  the  judge  advocate  gentM-al, 
who  personally  advises  the  queen  and  the  military  antlioritics  that 
tho  law  shall  be  complied  with.  As  a  privy  councillor  and  member 
of  the  House  of  Commons  that  oflicor  is  lebitonsiblo  \>o\}\  to  the' 
queen  and  to  parliament  for  the  right  and  due  aJmiuistiation  of 
military  law;  and.  notwithstinding  his  want  of  direct  cxecuiivo 
authority,  it  is  not  to  be  contemplated  that  any  inilii.iiy  ofliWr 
would  hesitate  to  art  upon  advice  given  by  hiiB  with  rcfiicius  to  a 


M  I-L  — M  I  L 


299 


Ifg!>l  qncstion  conTiectol  with  a  conrt  nmrtial.  The  department  of 
the  judge  advocate  general  consists  of  the  judge  advocntc  peneral, 
who  is  a  lawyer,  a  privy  councillor,  and  a  member  of  parliament, 
of  a  permanent  deputy  judge  advocate  general  who  is  also  a  lawyer, 
and  of  three  military  officers  as  deputy  judge  advocates  having 
special  experience  in  the  working  of  military  law. 

The  Army  Act  applies  to  European  officers  and  soldiers  serving  in 
India  in  the  same  manner  as  to  the  rest  of  the  army,  but  natives 
of  India  are  governed  by  their  own  Articles  of  War,  and  in  the  case 
of  civil  oflTences  they  are  dealt  with  according  to  the  provisions  of 
the  Indian  penal  code.  The  department  of  the  judge  advocate 
general  in  India  is  distinct  from  and  independent  of  that  of  the 
judge  advocate  general  of  the  army,  and  courts  martial  held  in  that 
country  are  not  subject  to  the  supervision  of  a  profe^jsional  Iaw}*er. 
Certain  prominent  irregularities  led  to  the  appointment  of  a 
barrister  as  judge  advocate  general  in  India  in  1869,  but  after  a  few 
years  that  appointment  again  became  filled  by  a  military  officer. 
The  staff  of  the  department  is,  however,  far  more  nnmerous  in  India 
than  elsewhere.  There  are  judge  advocates  general  for  each  of 
the  presidencies,  and  a  deputy  judge  advocate  at  each  of  the  more 
impoitant  military  centres. 

Statistics  of  Crime  in  the  .^rnii/. —Commissioned  officers  are 
rarely  subjected  to  trial  by  court  martial.  Where  an  officer  com- 
mits himself  in  a  military  sense,  and  his  misconduct  is  too  serious 
to  be  passed  over  merely  with  a  mark  of  official  displeasure,  he  is 
nsually  given  and  seldom  fails  to  accept  the  alternative  of  resigning 
his  commission.  In  some  instances  the  crown  is  advised  to  exercise 
Its  prerogative  and  remove  him  from  the  army  on  the  ground  that 
her  majesty  has  no  further  occasion  for  his  services.  In  no  c  -cum- 
stances  can  an  officer  or  soldier  claim  a  court  martial  as  a  right 
In  tha  result,  the  annual  number  of  trials  of  officers  does  not  average 
more  than  four  of  late  years.  Amon"  the  non-commissioned  officers 
and  soldiera  of  the  army,  however,  the  trials  and  summary  punish- 
ments by  commanding  officers  are  exceedingly  numerous,  as  will 
presently  be  seen.  In  India  this  observation  hardly  holds  good,  for 
ID  that  country  desertion  is  physically  almost  impossible  except  at 
the  two  or  three  seaports  where  troops  are  stationed.  Absence 
without  leave  is  for  a  similar  reason  ol^  rare  occurrence,  while  the 


*•  .   .^f  41.     i             ,.   •        .     it    ■ 4.1.1V,  Mionuv-titc  icitbuicui  tut^  rrcDcu  system  is  1 

ftict  of  the  troops  living  in  their  own  cantonments,  and  Deing  free  of  regiments  of  discipline  for  refracto.7   characters. 

from  many  temntations  of  life  existing  in  the  large  towns  and  garri-  general  officer's  power  of  imprisonment  (two  months 

sons  at  home,  places  them  outside  the  influence  of  certain  prevalent  the  olTender  may  be  sent  before  a  court  of  di-;cipline  ' 


causes  of  crime.     For  this  reason  mainly  the  proportion'of 

martial  held  in  1881  was  107  per  1000  men  at  home  as  compared 
with  76  abroad.  Similarly  the  proportion  of  minor  punishments 
per  1000  was  1449  at  home  to  1042  abroad  It  is  also  generally 
found  that  men  engaged  upon  active  service  in  th?  field  commit 
less  crime  than  those  serving  in  ordinary  circumstances.  But  the 
general  criminal  statistics  of  the  army  for  1881  show  a  formidable 
amount  of  crime  and  punishment.  Upon  an  average  strength  of 
131,186  non-commissioned  officers  and  men  there  were  16,523  courts 
icartial,  of  which  179  were  general,  8549  district,  and  7796  regi- 
mental courts.  There  were  also  224,681  minor  punishments  by  com- 
manding officers,  including  44,108  fines  for  drunkenness.  These 
figures  generally  show  an  increase  of  crime  as  compared  with  the 
two  years  immediately  preceding,  but  these  two  exhibited  a  decrease 
npon  previous  years.  Of  the  offences  tried  by  court  martial  in 
1881  the  following  were  the  principal:— mutiny  7,  desertion  1597, 
offences  in  relation  to  enlistment  (fraudulently  enlisting  while 
already  belonging  to  the  service  or  making  false  answers  npon 
attestation)  1190,  violence  to  and  disobedience  of  superiors  1650, 
minor  insubordination  and  neglect  of  orders  1472,  quitting  or  sleep- 
ing on  post  681,  drankenness  on  duty  266],  drunkenness  (tried  by 
court  martial  when  the  offence  has  been  committed  on  a  fifth 
occasion  within  twelve  months)  2147,  disgi-oceful  conduct  of  various 
kinds  660,  absence  without  leave  not  amounting  to  desertion  3293, 
makiug  away  with  or  losing  by  neglect  equipment  or  necessaries 
S768,  and  miscellaneous  offences  chiefly  of  an  ordinary  criminal 
character  or  to  the  prejudice  of  discipline  4181.  Upon  the  16,523 
trials  there  were  349  findings  of  acquittal  Regarding  the  punish- 
ments awarded,  it  appears  that  no  soldier  was  sentenced  to  death 
during  the  year,  and  the  otlier  awards  were  as  follows  :— penal 
•ervituda  104,  imprisonmeot  with  or  without  hard  labour  (alinost 
Invariably  the  former)  12,125,  discharge  with  ignominy  without 
other  punishment  42,  stoppages  of  pay  without  other  piinishment 
65,  flogging  (before  the  abolition  of  that  punishment  by  the  Act  of 
1881)  16,  and  the  new  summary  punishment  (authorized  as  a  sub- 
stitute for  flocging)  3.  Of  the  non-commissioned  officers  3228 
.Tore  punished  by  reduction  to  a  lower  giade  or  to  the  ranks,  while 
691  more  suffered  imprisonment  in  addition  to  loss  of  grade,  the 
former  number  being  in  the  proportion  of  about  12  and  the  latter 
of  2  per  cent  to  strength.     Of  the  men  tiied  305  were  pardoned. 

Militan/  Law  0/ other  Counlria.— The  administration  of  military 
l«w  in  other  countries  having  large  armies  harmonizes  in  many 
important  respects  with  that  of  England.  In  some  indeed  it  is  a 
question  whether  their  systems  are  not  superior  and  in  advance. 
They  hav»  a  considerable  boily  of  "  auditors "  or  military  lawyers 
who  expouud'the  law  and  do  much  to  secure  a  uniTotm  uid  exact 


administration  of  justice.  Thns  In  Austria  there  are  nhont  five 
hundred  of  these  auditors,  one  being  attached  to  each  regiment.  In 
the  same'  country  there  are  also  courts  of  appeal  from  the  courts  of 
first  instance,  these  latter  consisting  of  eight  persons  including  ths 
auditor.  Where  the  prisoner  is  a  non-commissioned  officer  or  a 
private,  that  rank  is  represented  on  the  court.  Here  also  the 
confirmation  of  superior  authority  is  required.  In  the  German 
army  there  are  general  and  regimental  courts.  An  auditor  who 
is  a  lawyer  is  attached  to  each  division,  and  it  is  his  duty  to 
expound  the  law,  collect  the  eridence,  and  read  it  to  the  court 
in  the  presence  of  the  prisoner,  who  is  asked  if  he  has  any  thing  to 
say.  The  court  consists  of  eleven  members,  of  whom  upon  the  trial 
of  a  private  soldier  or  non-commissioned  officer  three  are  of  the 
rank  of  the  accused.  The  power  of  commanding  officers  in  regard 
to  disciplinary  nunishments  is  greater  than  in  the  British  anny, 
especially  in  relation  to  officers,  who  may  be  placed  in  arrest  for 
fourteen  days.  The  non-commissioned  officers  and  privates  are  liable 
to  extra  guards,  drills,  fatigues,  and  different  degrees  of  arrest,  some 
of  a  very  severe  character.  Dismissal  from  the  army,  which  is  r». 
garded  as  a  most  severe  punishment,  invoh-ing  civil  disgrace, 
often  awarded.  In  Russia  there  are  three  kinds  of  military  courts- 
naniely,  the  rerimental  court  martial,  the  tribunals  of  military 
districts,  and  the  supreme  tribunal  at  St  Petersburg.  They  art 
permanent  courts,  are  attended  by  legal  persons,  and  in  certain 
instances  have  jurisdiction  over  the  civil  population  as  well  as  the 
army.  There  is  a  judge  advocate  general  at  St  Petersburg,  where 
the  supreme  tribunal  consists  of  general  officers  and  high  war-office 
functionaries  who  have  studied  military  law  or  possess  a  largt 
experience  of  its  working.  In  Italy  there  are  permanent  njilitar 
tribunals  for  the  tiial  of  non-commissioned  omcei-s  and  soldier; 
while  special  tribunals  are  appointed  to  try  officers.  The  court  is 
the  absolute  judge  of  the  facts,  but  regarding  legal  errors  or 
irregularities  an  appeal  lies  to  the  supreme  war  tribunal,  which  con- 
sists of  four  civilian  judges  and  three  general  officers.  The  French 
code  corresponds  in  many  resDdts  with  those  of  the  other  great 
Continental  armies,  but  it  tends  rather  to  give  individual  officers 
large  powers  of  imprisonment  graduated  according  to  their  rank. 
The  chief  disrinctive  feature  of  the  French  system  is  the  institution 

When  th. 
ths)  is  exhausted 
may  be  sent  before  a  conrt  of  discipline  and  by  them 
drafted  into  a  covtpngnie  de  discipKiu ;  and  cases  of  habitual  miscon- 
duct are  thus  dealt  with,  the  man  being  struck  off  the  strength  of 
his  original  corps  and  transferred  to  one  in  Algeria.  The  military 
law  of  the  United  States  is  founded  upon  and  proceeds  much  niior 
the  same  lines  as  that  of  England.  (J.  c  O'D  ) 

MILITAKY  TACTICS.  See  Wae. 
MILITIA.  Tlio  militia  of  the  United  Kingdom 
consists  of  a  number  of  officers  and  men  maintained  for 
the  purpose  of  augmenting  the  military  strength  of  the 
country  in  case  of  imminent  national  danger  or  great 
emergency.  In  such  a  contingency  the  whole  or  any  pari 
of  the  militia  is  liable,  by  proclamation  of  the  sovereign, 
to  be  embodied, — that  is  to  say,  placed  on  active  military 
service  within  the  confines  of  the  United  Kingdom.  The 
occasion  for  issuing  the  proclamation  must  be  first  com 
municated  by  message  to  parliament  if  it  be  then  in  session; 
if  it  be  not  sitting,  parliament  must  be  called  togethei 
within  ten  days.  For  the  purpose  of  keeping  the  force  in 
a  condition  of  military  efficiency,  the  officers  and  men  are 
subjected  to  one  preliminary  training  for  a  period  not 
exceeding  six  (usually  about  two)  months,  and  further  to 
an  annual  training  not  exceeding  fifty-six  (usually  twenty- 
eight)  days.  The  force  is  composed  of  corps  of  artillery, 
engineers,  and  infantry.  Infantry  militiamen  are  formed 
into  battalions  constituting  part  of  the  territorial  regiment 
of  the  locality  of  which  the  regular  forces  are  the  senior 
battalions.  The  officers  and  men  when  called  out  are  Lable 
to  duty  with  the  regulars  and  in  all  respects  as  regular 
soldiers  within  the  United  Kingdom.  Of  late  years  the 
men  have  been  raised  exclusively  by  voluntary  enlistment, 
but  where  a  sufficient  number  for  any  county  or  place  is  not 
thus  raised  a  ballot  may  be  resorted  to  in  order  to  complete 
the  quota  fixed  by  the  queen  in  council  for  that  county  or 
place.  Each  man  is  enlisted  as  a  militiaman  for  the  couoty, 
to  serve  in  the  territorial  regiment  or  corps  of  the  dist  'ict. 
The  period  of  engagement  is  not  to  exceed  six  years,  but 
during  the  last  of  these  years 'a  militiaman  may  be  re- 
engaged for  a  further  period  also  not  exceeding  six  ye  rs. 


300 


MILITIA 


Mbn  who  illegally  absent  themselves  are  liable,  in  addition 
to  punishment  for  the  offence,  to  make  up  for  the  time  of 
their  absence  by  a  corresponding  extension  of  their  service. 
The  officers  are  appointed  and  promoted  by  the  crown,  but 
first  appointments  are  given  to  persons  recommended  by 
the  lord  lieutenant  of  the  county  who  may  be  approved 
a-s  fulfiliing  the  prescribed  conditions  in  respect  of  age, 
physical  fitness,  and  educational  qualifications.  Since  1877 
the  officers  have  been  permanently  subject  to  military  law. 
The  general  body  of  the  non-commissioned  officers  and  men 
are  so  subject  only  when  called  out  for  training  or  embodi- 
ment. At  other  periods  they  have  simply  the  legal  status 
of  civilians,  except  as  regards  a  liability  to  trial  and 
punishment  for  offences  in  connexion  with  enlistment  or 
for  military  offences  committed  while  called  out.  Each 
militia  regiment  has  a  permanent  staff,  consisting  of  an 
li^jntant  and  a  small  body  of  non-commissioned  officers  and 
drummers,  to  conduct  the  recruj|ing  drills  and  ordinary 
business  of  the  corps;  and  the  members  of  this  permanent 
staff  are  always  subject  to  military  law.  They  mostly 
consist  of  non-commissioned  officers  who  belong  to  or 
have  served  La  the  regular  portion  of  the  territorial 
regiment.  Many  of  the  militia  corps  have  their  head- 
quarters at  the  brigade  dep6t  or  local  establishment  of  the 
territorial  regiment,  and  all  are  under  the  general  supervision 
of  the  (regular)  colonel  commanding  the  brigade  dep6t. 
The  area  of  service  does  not  extend  beyond  the  United 
Kingdom ;  but  those  who  voluntarily  offer  to  serve  in  the 
Channel  Islands,  the  Isle  of  Man,  Malta,  or  Gibraltar  may 
be  employed  therein.  The  uniform  of  the  officers  and  men 
of  the  militia  is  precisely  the  same  as  that  of  the  regular 
ci»ps  with  which  they  are  associated,  or  rather  of  which 
Ifcey  form  part,  except  that  in  addition  to  the  regimental 
distinguishing  mark  they  bear  the  letter  "  M  "  upon  their 
appointments,  to  denote  that  they  belong  to  the  militia 
portion  of  the  corps. 

A  a  above  stated,  the  ranks  of  the  militia  are  usually 
filled  by  voluntary  enlistment;  but  by  a  statute  which, 
though  temporarily  suspended,  can  be  put  in  force  provi- 
sions are  made  for  filling  up  any  deficiency  in  the  allotted 
quota  in  any  county,  city,  or  riding  by  ballot  ef  the  male 
inhabitants  if  ivithin  certain  limits  of  age.  The  enactment 
pi-ovides  as  follows: — 

The  secretary  of  state  is  to  declare  the  number  of  militiamen  re- 
quired, whereupon  the  lord  lieutenant  13  to  cause  raeetiuf^  to  be 
held  of  the  lieutenancy  for  each  subdivision.  To  these  meetings  the 
householders  of  each  parish  are  to  send  in  lists  of  all  male  persons 
between  the  ages  of  eighteen  and  thirty  dwelling  in  their  respective 
houses.  Before  the  ballot,  however,  the  parish  may  supply  volun- 
teers to  fill  up  the  quota,  every  volunteer  so  provided  and  approved 
counting  as  if  he  were  a  balloted  person.  If  a  deficiency  still 
exists,  the  persons  on  the  lists  shall  bo  balloted  for,  and  double  the 
number  of  those  required  to  supply  tlie  deficiency  shall  be  drawn 
out  Any  person  whose  name  is  so  drawn  may  chum  exemption  or 
object;  and  the  deputy  lieutenants  settle  the  question  of  hia  liability 
to  serve.  From  trie  corrected  list  those  who  are  of  the  requisite 
physique  (the  height  is  6  feet  2)  are  enrolled  in  the  order  in  which 
their  names  are  numbered  until  the  quota  is  completed.  If  the  list 
is  not  sulhcieut  to  fill  the  quota,  another  ballot  iu  the  same  manner 
is  to  bo  t;iken.  Any  balloted  man  becoming  liable  to  serve  may, 
however,  provide  a  substitute  who  has  the  requisite  physical  qualiii- 
tiations,  and  is  not  himself  liable  to  serve. 

Within  the  general  body  of  the  militia  is  contained 
another  having  an  additional  and  important  obligation  in 
the  matter  of  service.  It  is  called  the  "militia  resor\'o," 
and  is  formed  of  men  who  voluntarily  undertake  a  liability 
to  join  the  regular  forces  and  servo  in  any  place  to  which 
they  may  be  ordered  in  case  of  the  proclamation  of  a  state 
of  imminent  national  danger  or  great  emergency.  In  this 
respect  they  are  in  fact  upon  the  same  footing  as  the  army 
reserve,  and  on  the  occasion  of  the  mobilization  of  1878 
more  than  20,000  of  these  men  became  part  of  the  regular 
army.     The  present  strength  of   the  militia  reserve  is  a 


little  under  29,000  men,  and  judging  by  past  experience  it 
may  be  computed  that  about  i!5,000  coiUd  bo  at  once 
added  to  the  ranks  of  an  army  in  the  field  in  the  event  of 
national  danger  or  emergency.  It  is  to  be  observed,  hoT»^1 
ever,  that  every  man  thus  added  to  the  regulars  would  be 
taken  away  from  the  effective  strength  of  the  militia,  ^ 
There  is  no  statutory  provision  for  the  number  of  meo' 
to  be  maintained,  that  number  being  what  from  time  to 
time  may  be  voted  by  parliament.  Tlie  latest  information 
available  respecting  the  actual  condition  of  the  militia  of 
Great  Britain  relates  to  the  year  1881,  and  that  of  Ireland 
to  1880,  the  militia  of  the  latter  country  for  obvious 
political  reasons  not  having  been  called  out  for  training  in 
1881  or  1882.  Taking  the  militia  of  the  United  Kingdom 
in  1881,  we  find  that  the  establishment  provided  for  was 
139,501,  of  whom  18,618  were  artillery,  1317  engineers, 
and  1-19,566  infantry.  Divided  into  ranks,  this  establish- 
ment was  made  up  of  3534  sergeants  and  12G0  drummers  of 
the  permanent  staff,  and  of  the  general  body  3909  officers, 
2520  sergeants,  5040  cor;)orals,  and  123,238  privates. 
The  number  actually  enrolled  was  127,868  of  all  ranks, 
leaving  11,633  wanting  to  complete.  Of  the  number 
enrolled  84,864  belonged  to  English,  14,138  to  Scotch,  and 
28,866  to  Irish  regiments,  the  numbers  wanting  to  complete 
being  for  England  7420,  for  Scotland  162,  and  for  Ireland 
4051.  As  the  Irish  regiments  were  not  called  out,  our 
information  regarding  the  actual  effective  condition  of  the 
force  as  shown  at  the  annual  training  does  not  include 
Ireland.  With  regard  to  the  English  regiments,  74,946 
were  present  out  of  an  enrolled  strength  of  84,864.  Of 
the  absentees  3144  were  with  and  6775  without  leave. 
In  the  Scotch  regiments,  12,401  appeared  at  the  training, 
and  of  the  absentees  616  were  with  leave  and  1121  mib.- 
out.  Of  the  total  estabUshment  (106,584)  for  Great 
Britain,  99,002  were  enrolled,  and  of  those  enrolled  87,348 
presented  themselves  and  3760  were  absent  with  leave  and 
7896  actual  defaulters.  Of  the  English  regiments  five- 
sixths  and  of  the  Scotch  regiments  two-thirds  were  bom  in 
the  county  to  which  their  regiments  respectively  belonged. 
Of  92,677  men  (for  Great  Britain)  whose  occ-pationi 
are  disclosed,  17,665  were  artisans,  22,221  mechanicfl 
labourers,  26,227  agricultural  labourers,  and  26,564  other 
trades.  Speaking  approximately,  more  than  one-half  of 
the  men  were  between  twenty  and  thirty  years  of  age, 
about  4  per  cen..  between  seventeen  and  eighteen,  about 
9  per  cent,  between  eighteen  and  nineteen,  and  about  12 
per  cent,  between  nineteen  and  twenty,  while  some  20  per 
cent,  were  over  thirty  years  of  age.  More  than  one-half 
those  inspected  in  1881  were  between  5  feet  5  inches  and 

5  feet  7  inches  in  height,  about  20  per  cent.  were,  under  5 
feet  5  inches,  while  only  585  out  of  a  total  of  92,677  were 

6  feet  and  upwards.  At  the  date  of  inspection  there  were 
296  men  in  military  confinement  and  465  in  the  custody 
of  the  civil  power.  On  the  last  occasion  (18S0)  on  which 
the  Irish  militia  were  called  out,  upon  an  establishment 
of  32,813  and  an  enrolled  strength  of  30,515  the  number 
present  at  the  training  was  26,399,  leaving  706  absent  -with 
and  2264  without  leave.  Regiments  numbering  in  the 
aggregate  1146  men  were  not  trained. 

As  distinguished  from  the  regular  forces  or  standing  array,  the 
militia  has  been  described  as  the  constitutional  military  force  of  tha 
country  ;  and  its  history  justifies  the  description,  at  least  up  to  » 
recent  period  when  it  lost  its  distinctive  character  and  became  to  s 
great  extent  merged  in  the  regular  army.  It  is  the  oldest  force 
firilaiu  possesses,  and  in  fact  represents  the  train  bands  of  early 
English  history.  Its  origin  is  to  be  found  in  Iho  obligation  of  all 
freemen  between  certain  ages  to  arm  themselves  for  the  preservation 
of  tho  peace  within  tlieir  respective  counties,  and  genomlly  for  the 
protection  of  tho  kingdom  from  invasion.  This  obligation,  inipoaed 
in  tho  fii-bt  in»t.inee  upon  tho  individuals  themselves,  became  shifted 
to  tlio  owners  of  land,  who  were  com|)elled  to  keep  up  their  proper- 
tion  of  hor-.ea  and  armour  for  tho  national  defence.     The  force*  wee* 


M  I  L  —  M  I  L 


rem^ained  4  near  i  centSr^  wUh  th"'^  *''°  f '"^  "f  England 
community.  It  was  recom^Jn  T  '■''^  K'^"""'  approval  of  the 
for   the  pr;«rvatTon   of  !^  "1?    "^ 'nstrument  for  defence  and 

popular  Fromihe  circumstiuee  that Lm^' f  "  ^^  '"^'""y 
organization  the  crown  could  not  „«  I  "*  constitution   and 

coSatitution  or  abrid^n,  ?i.  vLj'  ",",  *  """'  "'  violating  the 
nolled  and  regutred^n^the  co!,  ^'^^  °1  "'°  '"^^''^  ''  ^as  con- 
owners  and  thdr  atives  /ts  rkJ,Ve*7«1?  fv,""**  ^^  ""^  '=">'^ 
ing  for  their  subsistence  or  „?J:!^!:::f:!.*l'!l^J:»^°  »»'  ■J«P'=nd. 
crown;  Its  numbers  and 


sovereign.  But  the  day  h^'nassed  when  pr.C'  ,•  .----- 
have  any  value.  The  fact  of  the Uii  ^  v°  "'^J^'^"""  could 
respects  under  the  Cet  cont  'l  of  I  '^  T^  '^'"S  placed  iu  all 
to  the  crown  but  to  pari  aZ  t  i,lo  If  i-  '^.^P^ns.ble  not  only 
tional  apprehensions'^undertM.  head  "«''  '°  "^"'i""*  ^"^  'O""'-- 

CaSdrat^?:^it^i':reA°- ''^°f™/°''^» ''''''* -^ 


■e  nr  »,i^.„ ="'"=-  uy  men  not  aepend.  officer    a«;«t.H  i:,,  ■  .       """"  "^  command  of  a 

-e  or  advancement  upon  the  favour  of  the  armv  kn  1  if "  »^  i  ?  "''j»'ant-general,  belongin"  to  the 

maintenance  were  beyond  the  royal  control-  !     ^.?       appointed  hy  the  queen.     Tlie  training  of  tl,7 

statute.     While  the  s^upreme  coTmanS  ;i  irr"of°'tS""'  "'■"•  "'."'  ''^"'?  a  mmury  "^lege  at  K 

e  croivn.  everv  nn.<-H^,i  .. :. .,  !>everai  ot  the  eovcrnino-  b^r^,-  o„.T  _...i- !'    ,     PT  f"-  '^ 


its  goveriiment  wily  stTt^te      WhUe'thrr"''  ""  '°^''  ""*^°'!     «  matter  of  Scare^  ihJT-"-     Tl>e  train  hi.  of  the  offi  ?,;!; 
distinctly  vested  in  the  c^™   everi  n«ct IT."' T""''"'*  T"^     ^'^--a'  of  1^0^^  boL  Inf  *  7''*^'^  "V  ^' "^ingsto 


~ch  parish  having  throDtil  of  '  "^^  °^  "S?'^'"  ""-i  ^^'J-five 
cost,  Ind  each  ma^n  balffi  J-  ""PP'^'ng  volunteers  at  it^  own 
P«y  £10  to  provTdTa  'itai^;"evr/"''"!?  ■"  "^»  of  serving  to 
pay  was  to  £the  sa^e  a^  hat  of  the  re'°  l'""^  "^i'  ^f  service  °the 
or  assembled  for  anXl  trai^in!  th!  ^1  ^'  '?'*  "''"«  enibodied 
nnderthe  Mutiny Act^idTuclfs  o/wfrTi.?.°i"'" '^^^^ 

"PPreheXdTvS?"    '!f,??.".ir:'»  »". "«'  ^e  militia  in 


ca»  of  a;;;h  n^dTvSror  of  ?^;:n'°  "".""'  ^»  ■"■"«"  '«     r^'  ^''  .   !f '^  ^PP^^-l  °^«^  t^;  aVea  on  which  the  due^ 

Sf  the  militia  b^Th"  c  o^he  ^tiS^T'?'  "^  nncpnstitutional  use 
each  ye;>r,  not  by  an  e«?ut,ve  !^  n"f  ^°l  '^  "^'"'"S  ''as  framed 
the  Ifouscof  Commons  Use  f  I W  .If  °f .' '«  .^"ereign,  but  by 
of  the  House,  anTt  was  'fl.i  !!P^''-i-'''  '"'"ative  of  a  committee 
of  the  militia  for  thrveTr  te^t'"'/'''"-'''"  l**''"'' ''"''•'"g 
militia  of  England  rem^ed  fo?n  ^'^  ^"""".K  ^"^^tantially  tht 
militias  being  „°ean7ime  brought  nn'i^''.^  ^^'  ^"^^  '"^  Scotch 
various  enictmeJ,      TK.  Z!"?'''  ""'^!'-    ^«.  ««>«  conditions  bv 


army.  "  ''ghtiug  strength  of  the  imperial 

MILK  is  the  fluid  secreted  by  the  mammal'  gia^S  rf 

0^tL7  ""**  "^dunentary  form  in  the  Monotremes  Jta! 
OmithorhyruJi-u»  there  is  no  nipple,  but   the  mmiih  J^ 

op^HnTtheT'^^P^nr^  '^'  ^^-  -  Scrt^fdu^ 
oi^n,  and  the  fluid  is  withdrawn  by  suction  on  the  part  of 

LSf^  •*'  il"'1  "^  *'•*  g'*"'^  °P^"  i^to  a  small  poul' 
foreshadowing  !he  larger  pouches  of  marsupials.  1^ 
^nTJ^^^l'  f'^  "« tno^compact,  andTave  atea£ 
number  of  lobules.     They  are  found  behind  the  mX' 

t>-o  on  each  side  nor  more  than  thirteen,  six  on  each  side 
and  one  midway.  The  ducts,  long  and  sle'nder  d^i^^a^S 
tion,  open  on  a  ninn  e  which  ;»  ^„„„,«j  u_  .   "^'°«/acta 


.    .  .  n «  brought  undeV7h''B«m'.'T"i";'''™'J"  I  ti«^ "•'■  •  \"'=  ""''"> 'ongaid  slender  during  lacta- 

various  enactments.     The  force  u-a.^miLi  conditions  by     tion,  open  on  a  nipple  which  is  covprpH  \.^  =   Z^^a- 

during  the  last  and  in  the  eariv  v^^^^"*'  °°  '"'""'  """'"n^  'he  skin  at  the  back  of  the  nn^.b  If  P  ■  "^^^^^O"  "^ 
it  contributed  laigely  to  thea™Ve„I!„  1  •  '.r'ff"  ""'"'•y.  and  hood  or  sWb  T^  •  .  P?  '''  *^"^  forming  a  kind  of 
1803  to  1813  Just  100.000  meTortf^^i.'"  'Vf  """'"'»■     P^""     dim-n.  1     .  »■         ^^°VP'e  ^  protruded  beyond  the  hood 

'S^^h.^^r^SF^^^^-^^    tt:^niXTe^^\^rtirn't:tfn"utbe''?  ""-^'^ 

-od:c--a«d"iHSf f -"-  '-"ft^^^  sratrbi^^hX^-^^: 

va  uable  functions.     In  the  war^t^T,,    •'"f '  "  '°J"'"  ""'t     *'  *  ''"■'^>   ^^  t^^^e"  nipples       Rodent,  tbow  „ 

agiiin  called  out  ^It  hS^l.    fi'^'^J'""  "^^f"'  ''•""="''"»  'vh"     the  oririnal  «f^    ♦^u    7     '''*'"'   *'""  ^^"^  ^""^  af>ont; 
«>nu.l  training:  and  wh"n"tLbri'l,/°-^t^i"'^  '^™'''^''  ^"     onl v  3«  .         \       '^,\<J°'"«ti'=  «Pecies  breeds,  however, 

Aldershot  and  other 'camps  of  fnst^clon  Tt'*  '?•!  ''^'"  f°"="  "'  d^^    ?     annuaUy,  and  has  but  one  to  two  youn?  so  the 

proficiency  have  "enerallv  .1!  ;,  i  ?u      °  ''^  military  aptitude  and  domestic  variety  is  a  curious  annmalTr  ,1n^  f/fl        J^  •  ? 

fessional  solUie^"  Jn^gn  in?"*  "".'  ''"■'"■^'"'  admiration  of  pro-  circumstances  of  its  i;f«^  T  T       ^      •     ^  ^"^  artificial 

n>ade.     It  waHart  of  the  ^.     '""■''"" '""'"'""o"*'  change  was  nipnl^^B^rL      ft-         l''^  POrcupmes  there  are  two 

year  that  the  control  of  the  miUtilT  "Iff"^  inaugurated  if  th^  S^,M^  "^tZ^  ^^^""^  ^^^  ^ore  and  hind  leg,  and  lie 

licuunant  of  the  county  anTveteJwholl vi'^'^r'^'^ '■^°"'*'' '»"»  InLT^^  ^''''''°  '^  ""^   "^«  ^^^^  °f  ^he^  fore  leg 

1^"  virtually  ceased  to  e'xist  M  a  diTtWhodl     '?*  "^     "  '"^  K    1       ,.  "^^P!^  *"  "^''^  oft®"  •^■'lying  its  youna  on  ^ 

«.a  re^r  force,  with'.  Lmitati^on'tr  ^^'^tiiL^lnd  L^^and  S^filt'''  "  TT  ^T  ri--. ^  teats  ^prc^o^ctC 

area  and  I  the  flanks  near  the  shoulders,  and  are  of  considemble  length 


302 


MILK 


so  that  the  young  readily  reach  them.  The  Iiiseclivorn 
have,  as  a  rule,  more  nipples  than  are  found  in  any  other 
order.  Thus  in  the  tenrec  {CenteUs)  there  are  as  many  as 
twenty-two,  and  they  are  rarely  fewer  than  fourteen, 
spread  out  in  pairs  from  the  pectoral  to  the  inguinal 
regions.  There  are  ten  teats  in  the  common  hedgehog,  six 
to  eight  in  moles  and  shrews,  two  in  sloths  and  armadillos. 
In  Celacea  there  are  two  long,  narrow,  flat  glands  lying 
between  the  dermal  and  abdominal  muscles,  with  the  sub- 
cutaneous Uubber  separating  thera  from  the  skin.  The 
peculiarity  of  the  arrangement  in  these  animals,  where 
suckling  is  performed  under  water,  is  the  large  size  of  the 
central  duct,  which  acts  as  a  kind  of  reservoir,  so  that  the 
young  may  obtain  a  considerable  supply  in  a  very  short 
time.  It  would  appear  also  that  when  suckling  takes  place 
the  nose  of  the  young  is  above  the  surface  of  the  water. 
Among  Ungulates,  in  the  elephant  the  glands  and  teats  are 
between  the  fore  legs;  in  the  rhinoceros  they  are  inguinal; 
in  the  mare  and  ass  the  glands  are  two  in  number,  and  are 
found  between  the  thighs,  about  9  inches  in  front  of  the 
vulva;  the  tapir  has  two  inguinal  nipples,  the  peccary 
two  ventral  and  two  inguinal,  the  wild  sow  eight  nipples, 
whilst  in  the  domestic  breeds  there  are  at  least  ten,  extend- 
ing from  the  pectoral  to  the  inguinal  regions.  Ruminants 
have  the  glands  aggregated  into  a  round  mass  in  the 
inguinal  region,  pendulous  in  full  function,  divisible  into 
two  glands,  each  of  which  has  a  large  reservoir.  ^Mien  in 
use  the  teats,  one  pair  or  two  pairs  being  the  number,  in 
connexion  with  the  reservoirs  become  so  large  as  to  receive 
the  special  name  of  "  udder."  All  the  deer  tribe,  camels, 
the  giraffe,  and  all  kinds  of  cows  have  four  teats ;  most 
antelopes  and  the  gazelles  have  two  teats,  whilst  a  few 
antelopes  have  four.  As  to  Cariiivora,  the  felines  have 
usually  six  nipples ;  the  wolf,  jackal,  fo.x,  dog  have  usually 
eight ;  the  seals  and  the  walrus  have  four,  the  otters 
two,  the  weasels  six,  the  bears  six ;  and  in  the  kinkajou 
(Cercoleptes)  the  number  is  reduced  to  two.  Amongst 
Quadnimana,  the  aye-aye  (Ckiromt/s)  has  only  one  pair  of 
nipples,  about  an  inch  and  a  half  in  front  of  the  vulva ; 
many  lemurs  have  in  addition  to  those  a  pectoral  pair ;  in 
all  the  platj-rhine  and  catarhine  Quadntmana  there  is  only 
one  pair  of  glands,  restricted  to  the  pectoral  region.  Here 
the  teats  are  between  the  fore  legs,  and  the  young  clings  to 
the  mother's  breast  in  human  fashion,  but  there  is  no  protru- 
sion of  the  breast  as  in  the  human  being.  -(For  further 
details  see  Owen's  Anatomy  of  Vertebrates,  vol.  iii.  p.  7G9.) 
In  the  human  race  the  glands  are  two  in  number,  form- 
ing, along  with  the  skin  and  fat,  two  rounded  eminences, 
one  on  each  side,  on  the  front  of  the  thorax.  They  extend 
from  the  third  to  the  sixth  or  seventh  rib,  and  from  the 
Bide  of  the  sternum  to  the  axilla.  In  the  centre  projects 
a  small  conical  body,  the  nipple.  Around  the  nipple  is  a 
coloured  circle,  or  areola,  which  is  darker  during  pregnancy, 
and  even  in  women  who  have  borne  children  than  in  the 
virgin  state.  The  surface  of  the  nijipls  is  ^^Tinkled,  4nd 
with  a  magnifying  glass  is  seen  to  be  covered  with 
papilla;.  It  is  perforated  by  numerous  openings,  the  mouths 
of  the  milk  ducts.  The  tissue  of  the  hippie  contains 
numerous  minute  blood  vessels,  and  it  has  at  the  base 
muscular  fibres  arranged  in  concentric  circles  and  in 
radiating  bands.  I',  has  much  of  the  character  of  erectile 
tissue,  as  in  the  corpora  cavernosa  of  the  penis,  becoming 
turgid,  firm,  and  prominent  from  excitement.  The  base 
of  the  gland  lies  on  the  pectoral  muscle,  a  thin  layer  of 
fascia  intervening.  The  surface  is  covered  with  fat,  which 
gives  it  the  smooth  rounded  outline.  It  is  amply  supplied 
with  blood  by  the  long  tlioracic  artery,  some  other  minute 
branches  of  the  axiPary  artery,  the  internal  intercostal 
artery,  and  the  subjacent  intercostal.  The  nerves  come 
from  the  anterior  and  middle  intercostal  cutaneous  branches, 


and  the  nipple  is  e.specially  sensitive.  The  gland  is  com- 
posed of  numerous  lobes  bound  together  by  connective  and 
adipose  tissue,  and  each  lobe  is  formed  of  smaller  lobules. 
Each  lobe  has  an  excretory  duct,  and  these  ducts,  from 
fifteen  to  twenty  in  number,  converge  towards  the  areola, 
beneath  which  they  are  dilated  so  as  to  form  sinuses  from 
Jth  to  ith  of  an  inch  in  calibre.  From  these  sinuses  arise 
the  ducts  which  0|)en  on  the  surface  of  the  nijiple.  Tho 
general  structure  Avill  be  imderstood  by  referring  to  tho 
accompanying  figures,  along  with  the  description. 


Flo.  I. — HalMlnprammntic  view  ef  a  section  (Iirough  a  lobule  of  the  ntflm* 
m.iry  gliind,  after  Klein  {Al'Cis  of  nhlolo^y.  pl;i!e  xl.  fig.  1).  macnlfled  W 
diameters,  a.  n  duct  dlvtiUne  Into  two  binnehes;  t.b.b.  conneriive  tissue 
surrounding  and  going  between  tlie  uUimalc  pontiles  of  tlie  plnnd:  e.  c.  f,  tbe 
pouches  or  altcoli  uf  tlic  gland,  the  dots  representing  tlie  cells  liping  tbcm. 


Fro.  2.—  A  portion  of  the  snine  gland,  magnified  about  400  diameters,  showing  one 
complete  and  two  Incomplete  alveoli,  a,  rt.o,  short,  columnar,  eplllieliul  cells 
lining  tile  alvcolu^  each  liaving  an  oral  or  rounded  nucleus;  ft, 6. 6,  epithelium 
cells,  containing,  next  liie  interior  of  the  alveolus,  a  mllli  globule;  c,e,r,e,  roUk 
globules  wlJcli  h.ivc  been  set  free  from  epllhelini  cells. 

When  a  duct  is  traced  into  the  gland,  it  is  found  to  sub- 
divide into  smaller  ducts,  and  these  into  still  smaller,  until 
the  smallest  ductlet  is  reached,  round  the  end  of  which  are 
clustered  several  alveoli  or  pouches.  Each  alveolus  lias 
a  wall,  lined  with  epithelium  cells.  In  the  wall  of  the 
alveolus  there  are  capillary  blood-vessels  which  bring  the 
blood  near  the  cells.  By  this  blood  the  cells  are  nourished. 
There  is  a  minute  cavity  in  the  centre  of  each  alveolus  into 
which  cells  or  their  products  can  accumulate.  There  can 
be  no  doubt  that  the  formation  of  the  milk  globule  takes 
])lace  in  these  cells.  Whilst  milk  is  not  being  formed  the 
cells  have  a  gi-anular  appearance,  and  the  lumea  or  central 
cavity  of  the  alveolus  is  small ;  but  during  secretion  tho 
cavity  is  enlarged  and  shows  a  few  milk  globules,  whilst 
one  or  more  milk  globules  can  be  seen  in  the  interior  of 
tho  cell.  If  the  milk  globule  in  the  cell  be  very  large,  the 
nucleus  of  the  cell  is  pressed  outwards  and  the  proto|>lasm 
of  the  cell  is  reduced  to  a  thin  covering,  over  the  globule, 
at  this  stage  presenting  a  striking  resemblance  to  a  fat 
cell  containing  an  oil  globule.  Tlius  each  milk  globule  is 
formed  in  the  protoplasm  of  the  epithelium  cell,  and  even 
at  an  early  stage  each  milk  globule  consists  of  a  minute 
drop  of  fat  or  oil  surrounded  by  a  thin  albuminous  envelope. 
It  has  not  been  clearly  ascertained  whether  c]iithelial  cells, 
after  having-  sci-retcd  milk  globules,  degenerate  and  fall 
'  off,  or  whether  they  have  the  powtr  of  ejecting  the  milk 
'  globules.     Tho  fluid  constituents  of  milk  (water  holding 


MILK 


303 


iialta  in  solution)  may  be  separated  rroni  the  blood  by  a 
kind  of  filtration  under  blood  pressure,  as  is  the  case  in 
other  secretory  processes.  The  origin  of  the  sugar  of  milk 
and  of  .the  casein  is  unknown.  (For  a  description  of  the 
minute  structure  of  the 
milk  gland,  see  Klein's 
Atlat  of  Histology,  p. 
300,  and  raferences.) 
At  the  beginning  of 
lactation  the  milk  is 
rich  in  large  irregularly- 
formed  corp'.iscles  (fig.  3, 
a,  a,  a)  called  colostrum 
corpuscles.  These  are 
contractile  bodies,  slow- 
ly changing  their  form 
and  squeezing  out  the 

oily  particles.      At  first  Fio.  3.— a  drop  ot  mUlt  magnieed  300  dluiieten. 

they  are  the  only  bodies  "■  '•'^  """"""'  "'T""^''- 

present,  but  they  are  soon  replaced  by  the  ordinary  milk 
globules.  Such  globules  have  bright  refractive  edges, 
2ie  surface  is  smooth,  they  vary  in  siie  from  g  ^'o  o^^  *° 
'g^^th  of  an  inch  in  diameter,  and  each  consists  of  a 
drop  of  fatty  matter  surrounded  by  a  laver  of  albumen 
("Ascherson's  membrane  "). 

A  secretion  of  mUk  takes  place  in  ijewly-bom  children, 
from  the  fourth  to  the  eighth  day,  and  also  in  rare  cases 
in  men  (Hermarm's  .f  Ay^'o/oyy,  p.  158).  During  gestation 
in  the  human  being  the  mammary  glands  increase  in  size  ; 
immediately  after  the  birth  of  the  child  active  secretion 
commences;  and  usually  it  is  on  the  stoppage  of  the  secre- 
tion, ten  months  afterwards,  that  the  process  of  menstrua- 
tion, which  has  been  arrested  by  impregnation,  again  is 
re-established. 

The  secretion  of  milk  is  undoubtedly  affected  by  the 
nervous  system,  as  is  shown  by  fear  or  mental  distress 
arresting  or  injuring  the  quality  of  the  secretion,  and  by  the 
"  rush  "  or  feeling  of  fulness  in  the  breast  e.xperienced  by 
the  mother  when  the  child's  mouth  touches  the  nipple,  or 
even  when  she  sees  her  offspring.  The  nervous  mechanism, 
however,  is  unknown,  as  it  has  been  observed  that  secretion 
may  continue  even  after  section  of  all  the  nerves  known  to 
pass  to  the  gland.  The  nature  of  the  diet  has  a  marked 
influence  on  the  quality  of  the  secretion.  Thus  the 
amount  of  casein  and  of  fat  is  greater  during  an  animal 
than  during  a  vegetable  diet.  Fatty  foods  do  not  seem  to 
increase  the  amount  of  fat  or  butter ;  an  ample  supply  of 
earbo-hydrates  (starches  and  sugars)  increases  the  amoimt 
of  sugar.  These  facts  indicate  that  most  if  not  all  of  the 
constituents  of  milk  are  formed  from  changes  in  the  pro- 
toplasm of  the  epithelial  cells.  In  some  women  the  nulk 
is  deficient  in  fat  and  casein,  and  consequently  is  less 
nutritious.  Prolonged  lactation  diminishes  the  amount  of 
fat  and  sugar  without  materially  affecting  the  amount  of 
albuminous  matter ;  but  the  milk  is  less  nutritious  and  is 
unfit  for  the  child.  The  occurrence  of  menstruation  during 
lactation  also  deteriorates  the  milk.  ^j.  g.  u.) 

Milk  as  Food. 
The  milk  of  various  domesticated  animals  is  more  or  less 
used  by  man  for  food.  The  milk  of  the  cow,  which  may 
be  taken  as  typical  of  all  others,  and  is  indeed  by  far  the 
most  important  and  valuable  of  all,  is,  when  newly  drawn, 
an  opaque  white  fluid,  with  a  yellowish  tinge,  soft,  bland, 
and  sweetish  to  the  taste,  and  possessed  of  a  faintly  animal 
odour.  This  odour,  according  to  Schreiner,  is  due  to  the 
presence  of  sulphuretted  hydrogen,  and  disappears  after  a 
short  exposure.  The  specific  gravity  of  milk  ordinarily 
ranges  from  1-.029  to  1  033,  very -seldom  reaching  1035  or 
falling  so  low  as  102  7.    In  chemical  constitution  it  con- 


sists of  an  emulsi'on  of  fatvy  globules  (cream)  in  a  watery 
alkaline  solution  of  casein,  and  a  variety  of  sugar,  peculiar 
to  milk,  called  lactose.  The  fat  (which  when  separated  we 
know  as  butter)  and  the  lactose  constitute  the  carbonaceooa 
portion  of  the  milk  regarded  as  food.  The  casein,  which 
forms  the  principal  constituent  of  cheese,  and  a  certain 
proportion  of  albumen  which  is  present,  form  the  nitro- 
genous, while  the  complex  saline  substances  and  water 
are  the  mineral  constituents.  These  various  substances  are 
present  in  the  proportions  which  render  milk  a  perfect  and 
tj'pical  food  suitable  to  the  wants  of  the  young  of  the 
various  animals  for  whom  it  is  provided  by  nature.  The 
milk  of  all  animals,  so  far  as  is  known,  contains  'hem, 
although  they  are  present  in  somewhat  different  propor- 
tions. It  is  probable  that  the  nulk  of  ruminants  possesses 
certain  physical  and  physiological  distinctions  from  that  of 
non-ruminant  animals,  which  will  account  for  the  virtues 
attributed  to  the  milk  of  the  ass  and  mare.  The  following 
table  exhibits  the  chemical  constitution  of  the  kinds  of 
milk  most  frequently  used  by  man : — 


Cow. 

Goat 

Ewe.l 

Mare. 

Ass. 

Hainan. 

i 

1 
1 

> 

1 

1=1 

1 

Water 

Fat 

86-87 
3-50 

ji75 

4-00 
070 

87-00 
4-00 

4-10 

4-28 
0-62 

84-48 
6-11 
3-94 

4-68 
0-79 

83-70 
4-45 

518 

5-73 
0-96 

90-310 
1-055 
1-953 

6-285 
0-369 

91-65 
0-11 

1-82 

6-03 
0-34 

88-02 
2-90 
1-60 

7-03 
0-31 

Casein  and 
albumin... 

Sugar 

Ash 

In  addition  to  these  constituents  milk  contains  small  pro- 
portions of  the  gases  carbonic  acid,  sulphuretted  hydrogen, 
nitrogen,  and  oxygen,  and  minute  quantities  of  other  prin- 
ciples, the  constant  presence  and  essential  conditions  of 
which  have  not  been  determined.  These  consist  of  galactin 
and  lactochrome,  substances  peculiar  to  milk,  discovered 
by  Winter  Blyth,  with  certain  animal  principles  such  as 
leucin,  pepton,  kreatin,  tyrosin,  <S:o.  The  salts  in  milk 
consist,  according  to  the  average  of  numerous  analyses  by 
Fleischmann,  of  the  following  constituents: — 

Phosphoric  acid 2831    Potash 173* 

Chlorine 1634    JIagnesia 407 

Lime 2700    Ferric  oitide 062 

Soda 10-00 

Milk  thus  is  not  to  be  regarded  as  a  definite  chemical 
compound  nor  even  as  a  mixture  of  bodies  in  fixed  and 
invariable  proportions.  Not  only  does  the  milk  of  different 
races  and  breeds  of  cows  vary  within  comparatively  wide 
limits ;  the  milk  of  the  same  animal  is  subject  to  extensive 
fluctuation.  The  principal  causes  of  variation  in  the 
individual  are  age,  period  of  lactation,  nature  and  amount 
of  food,  state  of  health,  and  treatment,  such  as  frequency 
of  milking,  ic.  The  following  table  indicates  the  range 
of  normal  variations: — 

■Water 90  00  to  8365 

Fat 2-80  „     4-50 

Casein  and  albomiji 3-30,,    5-55 

Sugar 300  „     550 

Ash 0-70  „     0-80 

The  average  quantity  of  milk  yielded  by  cows  is  also 
highly  variable,  both  in  individuab  and  breeds.  As  a 
rule  the  smaller  breeds  of  cows  yield  a  small  amount  of 
milk  rich  in  cream  (butter  fat),  while  the  yield  of  the 
larger  breed  is  greater  in  quantity,  but  comparatively 
deficient  in  cream.  A  good  milch  cow  should  yield  in 
a  milk-giving  period  of  from  eight  to  nine  months  about 


'  Ewo'a  milk  is  exceedingly  variable,  especially  in  its  percentage  of 
fat.  The  above  analysis  is  one  of  nine  by  Dr  Voelcker,  in  which 
the  fat  was  found  to  range  from  about  2  to  12^  per  cent. 


304 


MILK 


500  gallons  of  milk,  from  which  nearly  600  ft  of  cheece 
or  200  B)  of  butter  would  be  obtainable. 

Dairy  Treatment. — Ciows  are  commonly  milked  by  hand 
two  or  three  times  a  day.  A  milking  machine  of  American 
origin,  which  was  introduced  about  the  year  1862,  has  been 
entirely  abandoned.  The  milk  should  be  drawn  from  the 
animals  in  as  clean  a  condition  as  possible,  but  notwith- 
standing every  precaution  some  amount  of  hair  and 
epithelial  and  other  animal  debris  invariably  enters  the 
milk-pail.  It  has  therefore'  to  be  immediately  strained 
through  a  sieve  with  fine  wL'e-cloth  or  hair  strainer.  As 
milk  is  peculiarly  susceptible  of  taint,  and  absorbs  odours 
of  all  kinds  with  great  avidity,  it  is  of  the  utmost  con- 
sequence that  all  vessels  in  which  it  is  placed  or  kept 
should  be  so  made  as  to  be  easily  purified  and  that 
they  should  be  kept  scrupulously  clean.  In  Switzerland 
milk  is  strained  with  most  beneficial  effect  through  sprigs 
of  washed  fir  tops,  which  inserted  loosely  and  uprightly 
into  the  hole  of  a  funnel  arrest  all  hair,  skin,  clots,  and 
8limy  matter  on  the  acicular  leaves.  The  Tnilk  drains 
through  in  a  clean  condition  with  a  fresh  slightly 
aromatized  flavour  favoui-able  to  its  keeping.  A  fresh 
^rig  is  used  on  each  occasion  of  straining  mHk,  so  that 
there  is  freedom  from  the  risk  of  taint  which  arises  through 
the  use  of  imperfectly  cleaned  wire  gauze.  The  milk  milst 
be  removed  froM  the  cow-house  as  quickly  as  possible ; 
and,  if  intended  for  use  as  new  milk  and  for  sale  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  the  dairy,  it  may  at  once  be  put  up  for' 
delivery.  But  if  it  has  to  travel  a  distance,  or  if  it  is  to 
be  kept  for  creaming  or  cheese-making,  it  should  be  rapidly 
cooled  down,  and  kept  in  a  cool  airy  milk-room  if  prac- 
tica,ble,  surrounded  with  fresh  cold  water. 

The  ordinary  method  of  separating  cream  either  for 
direct  use  or  for  butter  making  is  by  allowing  it  to  form 
on  the  surface  and  skimming  it  off  with  a  broad  flat  spoon ; 
but  ingenious  adaptations  of  centrifugal  machines — of 
which  Laval's  separator  b  one  of  the  best  known — have 
been  introduced  for  the  purpose  of  effecting  the  rapid  and 
complete  separation  of  the  cream.  The  centrifugal  force 
of  Buch  machines  throws  the  denser  portions  of  the  fluid 
towards  the  sides  of  a  rapidly  revolving  cylinder,  collecting 
the  cream  on  an  inner  layer,  which  is  carried  off  by  one 
channel  while  the  impoverished  milk  escapes  by  another. 
The  Laval  separator  gives  very  rich  cream,  as  will  be  seen 
from  the  following  analyses  by  \oelcker : — 


Ordinary 
Cream. 

Cream  by 
Separator. 

Skimmed  MUk 
by  Laval 
Separator. 

Ordinary 

Skiiwned 

MUk. 

Water 

77-80 
15-45 
8-40 
3-15 
0-70 

66-12 
27-69 
2-69 
3  03 
0-47 

90-82 
0-31 
8-31 
4-77 
0-79 

89-25 
1-12 
8-69 
D-16 
0-78 

Mineral  matter 

After  being  kept  some  time,  depending  principally  on 
the  temperature  at  which  it  is  maintained,  niilk_  begins  to 
turn  sour  owing  to  the  formation  of  lactic  acid,  by  a 
process  of  fermentation,  at  the  expense  of  the  lactose  or 
milk  sugar.  The  acid  so  developed  causes  a  coagulation 
of  the  casein,  and  the  milk  separates  into  a  solid  white 
curd,  and  a  thin  transparent  yellow  milk  serum  or  whey. 
These  changes  can  to  a  certain  extent  be  artificially  pro- 
duced, hindered,  and  controlled.  The  following  are  the 
results  of  analyses  by  Fleischmann : — 

ConatiUtenls  of  100  Parts  of  Sweet  Milk. , 

i    3-56  butrtf: 

20-00  cream <  16  30  buttermilk. 

/    0-14  loss. 
(    7 '93  card, 

79-70  ekimmed  milk <  7145  whey. 

(    0-32  losa. 
0-30  loBS 0-30  loia. ' 


lyiatlK  Compcsition  of  itUh  and  Us  Prodx.ctn. 


Wat«r. 

Fsl. 

Caaeln. 

Albomin. 

HlDi 
Sagar. 

^ 

AA- 

^Vllolemilk 

87-60 
77-30 
90-34 
14-89 
91  00 
59-30 
94  00 

8-98 
15-45 
1-00 
82-02 
0-80 
6-43 
0-35 

3-02 
3-20 
2-87 
1-97 
3-50 
24-22 
0-40 

0-40 
0-20 
0-45 
0-28 
0-20 
3-53 
0-40 

4-30 
8-16 
4  63 
0-28 
3-60 
5-01 
4-65 

0-70 
0-70 
0-71 
0-56' 
0-70 
1-61 
0'€0 

Skim-milk     

Curd ; 

Wley 

The  simplest  and  most  advantageous  form  in  which 
milk  can  be  disposed  of  as  a  commercial  product  is  by  ita 
sale  as  sweet  or  new  milk,  and  it  is  in  this  manner  that 
the  greater  proportion  of  the  milk  produced  within  tho- 
reach  of  largo  centres  of  population  is  disposed  of.  New 
milk,  cream,  and  skimmed  milk  are  the  only  primary  forms 
in  which  milk  is  sent  into  the  market.  Cheese  and 
Butter  have  been  dealt  with  in  separate  articles  (q.v.). 
AVhey,  the  yellow  liquid  remaining  after  the  separation  of 
the  curd  in  cheese  making,  is  a  source  of  milk  sugar, 
employed  to  a  limited  extent  in  pharmacy ;  but  it  is  prin- 
cipally used  for  feeding  pigs.  The  bui.,crmilk  which  re- 
mains after  separating  butter  is  a  most  wholesome  and 
nutritious  article  of  food. 

Preservation  of  Milk-— The  niunerons  methods  which  have  bean 
proposed  for  tho  presei-vation  of  milk  in  a  condition  fit  for  use  over 
a  lengthened  period  resolve  themselves  into  (1)  diemical  treatment 
with  alkaline  salts  and  antiseptic  bodies,  (2)  physical  tieatjnent, 
Euch  as  cooling  or  icine;,  boiling,  and  aeration,  ana  (3)  condensation 
with  or  ■without  tho  addition  of  a  prescrvativo  agent.  AH  system* 
of  preservation,  however,  are  subject  to  serioiis  disadvantages  either 
from  their  serving  their  purposa  for  too  limited  a  time,  or  their 
interfering  with  the  natural  constitution  and  properties  of  tho 
milk.  Of  aU  preservatives  cold  is  the  most  efficient  and  least 
objectionable.  It  has  been  shown  by  Soxhlet  {Dingler's  PolytccK 
Journal,  ccxxiii,  329)  that  nulk  cooled  by  ice-water  remains  sweet 
and  unaltered  for  fourteen  days,  but  after  that  time  j.cquirefl  a 
rancid  taste.  After  twenty-eight  days  it  coagulates  on  boiling 
owing  to  the  presence  of  acids  resulting  from  the  oxidation  of  the 
cream,  and  in  thirty-four  days  it  coagulates  even  in  the  ice-wator. 
It  is  also  found  that  milk  which  has  undergone  aeration  witt 
atmospheric  air  has  its  keeping  properties  much  improved.  The 
aeration  is  effected  by  allowing  the  milk  to  fall  from  some  height 
in  a  state  of  fine  division  by  passing  it  through  the  meshes  of  a 
sieve.  By  another  method  air  cooled  by  passuig  over  ice  is  blown 
through  the  milk. 

Jtilk  keeps  sweet  for  a  longer  time  when  boiled,  bnt  the  smell,' 
raste,  and  other  properties  are  atfected,  partly  owing  to  the  escape 
of  gases  mixed  with  it  when  fresh.  The  unpleasant  flavour  com^ 
municated  by  boiling  can  be  avoided  if  the  action  takes  place  in  a 
closed  vessel  and  the  milk  is  immediately  cooled  down  in  a 
refrigerator  connected  therewith.  In  the  case  of  any  suspicion  of 
taint  in  milk  either  from  ilisease  in  the  cow,  contamination  from 
unhealthy  persons,  or  the  use  of  infected  water  in  cleaning  vessels*' 
boiling  is  also  btroiigly  to  be  recommended,  as  it  effectually 
destroys  the  genus  of  disease^  in  the  carrying  and -spreading  oif 
which  milk  is  a  most  active  agent.  It  is  witli  uie  utmost  difficulty 
that  boiled  milk  can  be  coamilatcd  by  means  of  rennet ;  but  b^ 
treatment  with  acid  it  coagulates  more  rapidly  and  freely  than  if 
unboiled. 

Of  tho  various  chemical  compounds  which  have  been  suggested 
and  more  or  less  used  for  preserving  milk,  the  most  successful 
liitherto  has  been  salicylic  acid,  which  has  the  advantage  of  being 
tasteless  and  inodorous.  By  biiskly  stirring  in  rather  less  than  » 
grains  to  a  pint  of  milk,  it  can  be  kept  liquid  and  sweet  in  a  tem- 
perature of  from  65°  to  68"  Fahr.  for  twelve  hours,  and  at  55''  Fahr. 
for  a  whole  day.  If  4  grains  bo  used  to  a  pint,  coagulation  in  the 
higher  temperature  is  delayed  from  two  or  three  days,  and  at  th© 
lower  temperature  the  milk  may  be  kept  good  from  three  to  five  days. 
Boracic  acid  and  borax  are  also  employed  by  dair)'men,  the  former 
being  known  as  glacialino  salt.  The  presence  of  any  chemical  anti- 
septic in  milk  is,  however,  at  best  a  matter  of  doubtful  advantogcw 

ComUnsatioTi. — Milk  is  now  treated  on  a  large  scale  by  a  process 
of  concentration,  tho  product  of  which  cornea  into  the  market  in 
two  forms — as  "  plain  condensed  milk  "  and  as  "  pro.«»crved  milk." 
Tho  credit  of  originating  tlic  industry  is  due  to  Mr  (Jail  Borden  of 
Uhitc  Plains,  New  York,  who  began  his  experiments  about  ]849. 
Ill  1851  ho  introduced  his  plain  condensed  milk,  which  is  simply 
milk  fr«m  wliich  between  three-fourths  and  four-tlftbs  of  the  wat,er 
lia«  been  removed,  and  in  1861  ho  rendered  important  .services  to 
the  army  in  the  fitld  b^  supplying  preserved' milk  which  was  lot 


MILK 


805 


effect  milk  aimilarly  concentrated,  with  a  proportion  of  sugar 
added,  and  hermetically  sealed  in  tin  cans.  The  manufacture  was 
transplanted  to  Switzerland  in  1865,  after  which  condensing 
factories  were  estahlished  in  England,  Ireland,  Denmark,  Bavaria, 
Norway,  and  elsewhere.  With  the  introduction  of  the  condensing 
OTidc  there  has  also  heen  associated  the  factory  system  of  dealing 
with  daily  products,  by  which  the  milk  of  many  dairies  is  carried 
(0  one  centre  and  dealt  with  either  for  condensing  or  for  cheese  or 
butter  making.  The  following  epitome  of  the  process  of  condens- 
ing milk  is  from  a  paper  by  Mr  Willard  of  Cornell  university, 
New  York  (Jour.  Jioij.  A(jric.  Soc,  2d  series,  vol.  viii.,  1872). 
Tiic  milk  when  received  at  the  factory  is  iirst  passed,  he  says, 
"  through  a  strainer  to  the  receiving  vat ;.  from  this  it  is  conducted 
off,  going  through  another  strainer  into  the  heating  cans,  each 
holding  about  20  gallons  ;  these  cans  are  set  in  hot  w.iter,  and  the 
milk  is  held  in  them  till  it  reaches  a  temperature  of  150^  to  175° 
Fahr. ;  it  then  goes  through  another  strainer  into  a  large  vat,  at 
^he  bottom  of  which  is  a  coil  of  copper  pipe,  through  which  steam 
is  conducted,  and  here  the  milk  is  heated  up  to  the  boiling  point. 
Then  the  best  quality  of  white  granulated  sugar  is  added,  iu  the 
proportion  of  1}  lb  of  sugar  to  the  gallon  of  milk,  when  it  is  drawn 
into  the  vacuum-pan  having  a  capacity  of  condensing  3000  quarts 
or  more  at  a  time.  The  milk  remains  in  the  vacuum-pan  subjected 
to  steam  for  about  three  hours,  during  which  time  about  75  per  cent, 
of  its  hulk  in  water  is  removed,  when  it  is  drawn  off  into  cans, 
holding  40  quarts  each.  The  cans  are  only  partially  filled,  and  are 
then  set  in  a  large  vat  containing  cold  water,  the  water  being  of  a 
height  equal  to  that  of  the  milk  in  the  cans.  Hero  it  is  stirred 
until  the  temperature  of  the  condensed  fluid  is  reduced  to  a  little 
below  70°;  it  is  then  turned  into  large  drawing-cans  with  faucets, 

in  order  to  facilitate  the  tilling  of  the  small  cans holdin" 

1  lb  each,  which  are  immediately  soldered  to  exclude  the  air." 

In  the  ease  of  plain  condensed  milk  the  concentration  is  usually 
carried  farther  than  is  practised  in  preparing  the  preserved  milk,  it 
being  evaporated  down  to  between  one-fourth  and  one-fifth  of  the 
origin.al  bulk.  Ii  is  not  put  up  in  sealed  tins,  being  intended  for 
immediate  use,  and  keeps  sweet  only  for  a  few  days,  varying  with 
the  state  of  the  weather,  whereas  the  sugared  milk  in  sealed  cans 
keeps  for  years.  The  large  amount,  however,  of  cane  sugar  added 
to  preserved  milk  seriously  disturbs  its  balance  of  proportion  as  a 
perfect  food,  and  renders  it  unfit  to  be  used  alone  in  a  dilute  state 
as  a  substitute  for  mother's  milk  by  infants,  a  purpose  for  wliich  it 
is  largely  employed.  It  should  also  be  observed  that  the  relative 
proportion  of  fat  is  small,  the  milk  being  partially  skimmed  before 
it  is  operated  on,  so  that  the  statement  that  preserved  milk  diluted 
with  a  small  proportion  of  water  is  equal  to  cream  is  not  to  be 
relied  on.  Preserved  milk,  rich  in  cream,  has  always  a  more  or 
loss  rancid  oily  taste,  and  cannot  be  obtained  so  sweet  and  even  in 
flavour  as  that  largely  deprived  of  fat.  According  to  a  German 
patent  of  E.  Klebs  in  Prague,  plain  condensed  milk  may  bo 
preserved  by  adding  to  every  100  litres  of  the  original  milk  a 
solution  of  50  grains  of  benzoate  of  magncsiuir  iu  oua  litre  of 
water. 

Adidlcralion. — Practically  the  invariable  mode  of  sophisticating 
milk  for  sale  cosisists  in  the  addition  of  water  and  iu  the  subtrac- 
tion of  cream,— iu  other  words,  passing  olf  skimmed  or  partlv 
skimmed  as  new  milk.  Now  and  again  there  are  found  certain 
little  refinements  on  these  simple  frauds,  such  as  adding  a  quantity 
of  sugar  to  correct  the  specific  giavity.  Hour  or  starch  to  increase 
opacity,  and  a  touch  of  colouring  matter  to  cover  the  bluish  tinge 
wliich  would  betray  skimmed  milk.  In  the  United  Kingdom  no 
ofticial  standard  of  what  constitutes  pure  milk  has  been  promul- 
gated, but  the  so-called  Somerset  House  standard  has  been 
generally  recognized  in  law  courts.  According  to  this,  new  milk 
should  contain  as  a  minimum  of  solids  not  fat  8 '6  per  cent,  and  of 
fat  2-5  per  cent.,  and  of  water  a  maximum  of  .83-9  per  cent.  The 
most  satisfactory  manner  of  discovering  the  probable  genuinenr- 
of  a  sample  of  milk  is  by  chemical  analysis  carried  suHiciently  1.  . 
to  determine  the  amount  of  fat  and  of  other  solids  present, 
lyumerous  attempts  have  been  made  to  place  in  the  hands  of  dairy- 
men, dealers,  and  consumers  of  milk  a  trustworthy  method  of 
■estimating  the  condition  and  value  of  the  article  by  simple 
nuautitive  tests  for  cream  or  fat — at  once  the  most  valuable  con- 
stituent and  one  the  presence  of  wliich  in  average  proportion  is 
indicative  of  the  quality  of  the  whole.  The  simplest  but  at  the 
same  time  the  least  trustworthy  and  efEcient  method  is  by  means 
of  the  so-called  "creamometer,''  which  consists  merely  of  a 
graduated  glass  tube  in  which  a  measured  amount  of  milk  is  placed 
and  the  amount  of  cream  it  throws  up  is  read  off  by  means  of  the 
scale.  Specific  gravity  determinations  have  by  themselves  no 
Significance,  seeing  milk  deprived  of  its  cream  can  by  dilution  with, 
gatei-  be  brought  to  correspond  exactly  with  the  original  milk. 
But  by  a  combination  of  two  methods,— first  taking  the  specific 
gravity,  next  observing  the  yield  of  cream  by  the  "  creamometer," 
and  finally  taking  the  specific  gravity  of  the  milk  deprived  of 
cream,  regard  being  had  to  the  temperature  of  the  milk  in  these 
observations,^ an  approximately  accui'ate  idea  of^the .value  of_a 

1(>— 13 


sample  may  be  obtained.  Among  so-called  "lactoscopcs,"  the 
operations  of  which  are  based  on  the  fact  that  milk  rich  iu  cream 
IS  a  much  more  opaque  fluid  than  that  from  which  cream  has  been 
taken  or  to  which  water  is  added,  that  invented  by  Professor 
Fescr  of  Jhinich  is  one  of  the  simplest  and  most  useful.  It  aon- 
sists  of  a  glass  tube  open  at  the  u\<],er  end  and  attenuated  it  ■US 
lower  extremity.  Into  this  narrower  portion  is  fused  a  sttail 
cylindrical  rod  of  opaque  milk  glass  on  which  black  Hues  ai-e 
marked.  These  lines  are  invisible  when  the  lower  portion  of  the 
tulie  is  lillcd  with  a  measured  quantity  of  niilU,  but  on  ailditioii  ul 
water  they  become  visible.  \\"lieii  the  black  lines  become  bv  the 
gradual  admbituie  of  water  perfectly  distinct,  the  richurss  of  the 
milk  in  cream  globules  is  indicated  by  the  height  to  which  the 
mixture  of  milk  and  water  has  risen  iu  the  wide  portion  of  the 
tube,  which  has  engraved  on  it  a  scale  showing  on  one  side  the 
amount  of  water  added  and  on  the  other  the  jivoportion  of  cream 
equivalent  to  the  transparency  resulting  from  such  addition. 

Stalistics.— In  the  year  187S  it  was  calculated  by  llr  J.  C.  Jloiton 
that  the  total  yield  of  milk  from  the  2,250.000  cows  and  heifers 
in  milk  or  in  calf  in  England  and  Scotland  amounted  to  about 
1,000,000,000  gallons  yearly.  He  assumed  that  about  one-sixth  o£ 
that  quantity  (107,000,000  gallons)  went  to  feed  calves,  and  that 
the  daily  consum)>tion  of  the  population  was  1,000,000  gallons, 
being  rather  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  pint  per  head,  which  aceouiiis' 
for  305,000,000,  still  leaving  468,000,000  t.iUons  to  be  used  for 
butter  and  cheese  making.  Two-thirds  of  this  quantity,  or 
312,000,000  gallons,  Jlr  Morton  assumes  was  used  lor  cheese-making, 
yielding  2,800,000  cwts.  of  cheese  (rather  less  than  1  lb  per  gallon 
of  milk),  and  the  remainder,  156, 000,000  gallons,  of  milkdcvotid  to 
butter-making  would  yield  530,000  lb  of  butter,  or  1  lb  of  butter 
for  every  21  pints  of  milk.  In  these  figures  no  accouut  is  taken  of 
Ireland,  whence  at  that  period  there  were  sent  to  England  alone 
yearly  3,500,000  lb  of  salted  butter.  In  June  1882  the  number  of 
cows  and  heifers  in  milk  and  in  calf  in  Great  Britain  did  not  vary 
greatly  from  the  number  on  which  Mr  Morton's  estimate  for  1873 
was  based,  being  2,267,175,  whilst  in  Ireland  the  number  w.ns 
1,398,905,  making  the  total  for  the  United  Kingdom  3,682,317. 
If  we  take  approximately  ilr  Morton's  data  as  the  basis  of  calcu- 
lation, the  3,682,317  milk  cows  and  heifers  in  the  Uuited  King- 
dom would  yield,  at  440  gallons  per  head,  1,620,219,480  gallons 
of  milk.  Further,  assuming  that  one-sL\tli  of  this  is  consumed 
by  calves,  one-third  consumed  by  population,  one-third  used  for 
cheese-making,  and  oue-sixtli  used  for  butter-making,  we  have  as 
the  yield  of  cheese  4,846,000  cwts.  and  as  the  yield  of  biittrr 
920,000  cwts.  As  Ireland  is  much  more  a  butter-producing  th.in  a 
cheese-yielding  country,  the  quantity  of  cheese  made  is  prob.ibly 
overestimated  in  these  figures,  and  the  amount  of  buttrr  niade  is 
correspondiugly  understated.  To  bring  out  the  consumption  ol^ 
dairy  products  for  the  year  the  following  imports  must  be  added: — 


Cwts. 

1         Vilec. 

2,1C;,4:'3 

11,S3U,-.'JC 

Thus  we  finil  tlie  total  suiii-]y  of  cheese  to  tlie  Uuited  Kini^dont 
iu  1SS2  was  6,538,495  cwts.,  au.l  of  butter  the  supply  was  Z,Ob7,4:S 
cwts.  Estimating  the  liouie  produce  of  both  articles  at  the  same 
value  as  the  imports,  the  cheese  supply  cost  £18,320,000,  and 
the  butter  £16,150,000.  Adding  to  these  the  probable  cost  of  tha 
milk  consumed  as  such  (say  550,000,000  gallons  at  Is.  per  gallon 
=  £27,500,000),  we  have  for  the  year  1882  iu  round  uunibeis 
£62,000,000  expended  on  dairy  produce  within  the  United  Kingdom. 

The  total  number  of  milch  cows  at  present  (18S3)  iu  the  United 
States  is  stated  at  15,000,000,  which,  taking  the  440  gallons  basis, 
yield  annually  6,600,000,000  gallons,  or  nearly  30,000,000  tons  of 
milk.  In  America  the  factory  system  of  treating  milk  has  attaincil 
much  greater  dimensions  than  in  Europe,  and  that  perfection  of 
:  ;catnient,  combined  with  the  cheapucss  of  raising  and  feeding  stock, 
enables  the  American  companies  to  enter  the  European  markets 
with  large  quantiticsof  cheese  and  other  dairy  products  of  uniformly 
good  quality  which  find  a  ready  and  remunerative  sale. 

K  oil  miss.— V  nder  this  name  is  properly  understood  a  feraiented 
drink  prepared  from  mare's  milk  by  the  Tartar  tribes  of  the  Russian 
empire  and  by  all  the  nomad  races  of  the  northern  parts  of  Asia. 
It  is  made  by  diluting  mare's  milk  with  about  one-sixth  piart  of 
its  quantity  of  water,  and  adding  as  a  ferment  about  one-eighth 
part  of  very  sour  milk  or  of  old  koumiss.  This  mixture  is  placed 
in  a  wooden  vessel  which  is  covered  over  with  a  thick  cloth,  and-so 
left  for  about  twenty-four  hours  in  a  moderately  warm  situation. 
Dui-ing  that  time  a  thick  coagulum  rises  to  the  surface,  which  is 
thoroughly  i-eincorporated  by  churning.  After  standing  for  another 
day,  the  whole  mass  is  again  thoroughly  chmned  and  mixed  up, 
and  in  this  state  it  forms  new  koumiss,  having  an  agiceable  subacid 
taste.  The  liquor  is  mostly  stored  and  preserved  by  the  Tartai-s  in 
skin  bottles,  in  which  the  fermentation  continues  developing  ii  > 
alcolwlic  qualities,  and  mellowing  and  improving  its  taste.  Genuir  i 
Tartar  koumiss  has  the  follu>\ing  composition  :— alcohol^3'21,  lactl:; 


806 


M  I  L  —  M  1  L 


.-.cid  0'19,  sngar  2-10,  albuminoids  1'86,  fat  178,  salts  0-509, 
carbonic  acid  0-177,  and  water  93-40.  A  distilled  spirit  is  i)repared 
from  koumiss,  which  is  drunk  among  the  Tartars  under  the  name 
Ktl  araca  or  arsa.  Koumiss  has  of  late  years  come  into  prominent 
notice  as  a  remedial  agent  in  cases  of  pulmonary  consumption,  and 
generally  as  a  nutritious  form  of  food  easily  assimilated  by  delicate 
stomachs.  It  is  prob.-ible  that  all  its  virtues  reside  in  the  original 
milk  from  which  it  is  prepared,  in  w-hich  case  the  koumiss  can  only 
be  regarded  as  valuable  in  so  far  that  it  is  a  convenient  form  under 
which  the  essential  properties  of  the  milk  can  be  preserved  for  use. 
Under  the  name  of  Kouraiss  a  preparation  of  cow's  milk  is  now  very 
generally  sold.  It  is  made  by  adding  lo  each  quart  of  new  milk 
about  a  tablespoonful  of  common  sugar  and  brewer's  yeast,  allowing 
the  fermentation  to  proceed  a  sufficient  length,  then  bottling  and 
corking  as  in  the  case  of  aerated  waters.  Such  a  preparation  con- 
tains about  the  same  proportion. of  alcohol  as  genuine  koumiss,  but 
a  non-alcoholic  variety  can  also  be  obtained,  made  by  a  process  of 
natural  fermenfation,  which  continuing  after  bottling  develops 
a  krge  amount  of  carbonic  acid  and  renders  the  liquor  highly 
efl'ervescent.  (J.  PA.) 

MILL,  jAJfES  (1773-1836),  historian  and  political  and 
mental  philosopher,  was  born  6th  April  1773,  in  the 
little  -Tillage  called  Northwater  Bridge  (Bridge  of  North 
Esk),  in  the  parish  of  Logie-Pert,  in  the  county  of  Forfar. 
His  father,  J  -imes  Mill,  -was  a  shoemaker ;  his  mother, 
Isabel  Fenton,  belonged  to  a  race  of  respectable  farmers. 
The  father  was  industrious,  good-natured,  and  pious,  hut 
not  kno■^vn  as  specially  intelligent.  The  mother  was  of  a 
proud  disposition,  and  resolved  to  educate  James,  her  eldest 
son,  for  a  superior  destiny.  He  began  his  education  at 
the  parish  school,  and  went  on  to  the  Montrose  Academy, 
"where  he  remained  till  the  unusual  age  of  seventeen  and  a 
ia!f,  when  he  went  to  the  college  of  Edinburgh  (1790). 
jiccording  to  the  usage  of  the  time  and  neighbourhood,  he 
ought  to  have  been  sent  about  thirteen  or  fourteen  to 
Marischal  College,  Aberdeen.  His  remaining  so  long  at 
the  Montrose  Academy,  and  his  going  to  Edinburgh  for 
his  university  course,  must  be  connected  -with  his  being 
taken  up  by  Sir  John  and  Lady  Jane  Stuart  of  Fettercairn, 
who  engaged  him  to  be  tutor  to  their  only  daughter, 
!ino-mi  for  having  inspired  the  affection  of  Sir  Walter 
Scott,  and  for  being  the  mother  of  Principal  James  David 
Forbes.  Sir  John  and  Lady  Jane  Stuart  contracted  a 
warm  attachment  for  Mill,  which  lasted  throughout  their 
lives.  At  Edinburgh  University  Mill  was  distinguished  as 
a  Greek  scholar.  But  he  received  his  greatest  impulse 
from  Dugald  Stewart,  for  whom  he  always  expressed 
-unbounded  admiration.  In  October  1798  he  was  licensed 
as  a  preacher,  but  seems  to  have  preached  very  seldom. 
His  years  from  1790  to  1802,  besides  being  occupied  with 
incessant  studies  e.xtending  into  history  and  moral  and 
political  philosophy,  were  devoted  to  various  tutorships. 

Failing  to  find  a  career  to  his  mind  in  Scotland,  in  1802 
lie  went  to  London  in  comnany  with  Sir  John  Stuart, 
then  member  of  parliament  for  Kincardineshire.  He  soon 
obtained  literary  occupation,  to  which  he  applied  himself 
with  untiring  energy.  His  first  important  venture  was  to 
start  a  periodical  on  a  new  plan,  entitled  The  Literary 
Journal,  which  began  to  appear  in  January  1803,  and 
continued  under  his  editorship  till  the  end  of  1806.  It 
was  the  most  comprehensive  in  its  aims  of  any  periodical 
hitherto  in  existence,  being  a  summary  view  of  all  the 
leading  departments  of  human  knowledge.  Thomas 
Thomson,  the  chemist,  took  charge  of  science  ;  and  many 
other  men  of  ability  co-operated.  Mill  himself  wrote 
largely  in  biography,  history,  political  philosophy,  political 
sconomy,  and  also  in  theology,  on  which  his  views  at  the 
;irae  were  broad  -wifbout  being  sceptical.  The  publisher 
of  the  journal  was  Baldwin,  who  -\vas  also  the  proprietor 
■of  the  St  Jamcis  Chronicle,  a  Conservative  paper  appear- 
ing three  times  a  week.  For  two  or  three  years,  from 
1805  onwards,  Mill  was  editor,  but  at  last  gavo  it  up, 
1  artly  on  conscientious  grounds,  although  in  conducting 


it  he  never  lent  himself  to  the  expression  of  any  illiberal 
views,  but  often  made  it  the  vehicle  of  the  opposite. 

In  1804  he  -wrote  a  pamphlet  on  the  Corn  Trade, 
advocating  the  impolicy  of  a  bounty  on  the  exportation  of 
grain.  This  was  the  beginning  of  his  career  as  'a  political 
economist.  In  1 805  he  pubiished  a  translation  of  Villers's 
work  on  the  Reformation,  an  unsparing  exposure  of  the 
vices  of  the  papal  system.  He  added  notes  and  quotations 
by  -ft'ay  of  confirmation  of  the  author's  -views.  On  this 
subject  also  he  contmued  to  hold  strong  opinions  all  through 
life,  and  often  recurred  to  it  in  his  articles  in  the  reviews. 
In  1805  he  married  Harriet  Burrow,  whose  mother,  a 
-widow,  kept  an  estabUshment  for  lunatics  in  Hoxton.  He 
then  took  a  house  in  Rodney  Street,  Peutonville,  where  his 
eldest  son,  John  Stuart,  was  born  in  1806.  It  was  about 
the  end  of  1806  that  he  entered  upon,  the  composition  of 
the  History  of  India,  which  ho  expected  to  finish  in  three 
or  four  years.  He  was  actually  engaged  upon  it  for  twelve, 
giving,  however,  a  considerable  portion  of  his  time  to  other 
writing  for  the  support  of  his  family.  The  strain  upon  his 
energies  for  those  years  was  enormous. 

He  became  acquainted  with  Jeremy  Bentham  in  1808, 
and  was  for  many  years  Bentham's  chief  companion  and 
ally.  In  1810  Bentham,  to  ha\e  Mill  nearer  him,  gave 
him  Milton's  house,  which  adjoined  his  own,  and  -n-as  his 
property.  After  a  few  months'  trial  ilill  had  to  give  up 
this  house  on  account  of  his  wife's  health,  and  went  to  live 
in  Newington  Green;  but  in  181-1  Bentham  leased  the 
house  No.  1  Queen's  Square,  now  40  Queen  Anne's  Gate, 
■lose  to  his  own  garden,  and  gave  it  to  Mill  at  a  reduced 
rent;  here  he  remained  till  1831.  The  intimacy  with 
Bentham  was  rendered  still  closer.  For  four  years,  from 
1814  to  1817,  Bentham  was  at  Ford  Abbey,  near  Chard, 
in  Somersetshire,  and  there  Mill  and  his  family  were 
domesticated  -with  him  nine  or  ten  months  each  ;,  ir, — in 
which  retirement  it  is  probable  that  Mill  was  able  to 
accelerate  the  completion  of  his  history. 

In  the  twelve  years  between  1806  and  1818  he  -wrote  a 
great  many  articles  for  various  periodicals.  Among  these 
were  the  Anii-Jacohin  Revieiv,  the  British  Eencio,  and  the 
Eclectic  Seviev) ;  but  there  is  no  means  of  tracing  his  con- 
tributions. In  1808  he  began  to  -write  for  the  Edinburgh 
Revietv, and  contributed  steadily  tilll813,mostofhis  articles 
being  known.  In  the  A  nnual  Eeiiew  for  1808  two  articles 
of  his  are  traced — a  "  Review  of  Fox's  Historj',"  and  an 
article  on  "Bentham's  Law  Rcfonns,"  probably  his  first 
published  notice  of  Bentham.  The  first  known  article  in 
the  Edinhirgh  was  on  "  Money  and  Exchange  "  (October 
1808).  In  1809  (January  and  July)  he  wrote  at  great 
length  on  Spanish  America  and  General  Jlirauda,  -with 
whom  he  was  on  terms  of  intimate  friendship.  In  the  July 
number  he  also  wrote  on  China.  In  1810  (April)  he  made 
a  severe  attack  on  the  East  India  Company.  He  also 
-wrote  on  the  hberty  of  the  press  and  on  the  Church  of 
England  in  connexion  with  the  Lancasterian  schools.  Ho 
was  an  active  member  of  the  committae  for  promoting 
educatinn  on  Lancaster's  plan.  In  181 1  a  periodical  named 
the  I'hilanthrnpist  was  started  by  AVilliam  Allen,  and 
published  in  quarterly  numbers  till  1817.  Mill  co-operated 
with  Allen  boih  in  the  writing  and  in  the  management. 
He  contributed  largely  to  every  number, — his  principal 
topics  being  education,  freedom  of  the  press,  and  prison 
discipline  (under  wliich  ho  expounded  Bentham's  "Pajiop- 
ticon  ").  He  made  powerful  onslaughts  on  the  church  in 
conne.xion  with  the  Bell  and  Lancaster  controversy.  In 
1814  Macvey  Napier  engaged  him  to  contribute  to  the 
supplement  to  the  fifth  edition  of  the  Encyclopstdia 
Britannica.  Many  of  the  atticles  became  notable.  The 
list  included  "Government,"  "Jurisprudence,"  "Liberty 
of  the  Press,"  "Prisons  and  Prisoa  Disciplind^"  "Colony," 


MILL 


307 


•"Law  of  Nations,"  "Education,"  "Beggar,"  "Benefit 
Societies,"  "Banks  for  Savings."  In  "Jurisprudence"  and 
"Prisons"  he  was  largely  indebted  to  Bentham;  in  most 
of  the  others  he  was  either  altogether  or  in  great  part 
original.  The  article  on  "Government"  will  occupy  a 
permanent  position  in'  English  history. 

In  1S18  was  published  the  History  of  India,  which  had 
a  great  and  speedy  success.  It  was  the  means  of  changing 
the  author's  future  position.  The  year  following  he  was 
appointed  an  ofScial  in  the  India  House,  in  the  important 
department  of  the  examiner  of  Indian  correspondence. 
He  gradually  rose  in  rank  tiU  he  was  appointed,  in  1S30, 
head  of  the  office.  He  introduced  his  eldest  son  into  the 
same  department  in  1823. 

In  182'1  Bentham  projected  the  WestrntTister  Review,  and 
Mill  was  a  principal  writer  for  three  years.  Some  of  his 
most  vigorous  writings  are  included  among  those  contribu- 
tions. The  first  was  an  elaborate  criticism  of  the  Edinburgh 
Revieio  as  a  whole ;  it  was  followed  by  an  onslaught  on  the 
Quarterly.  Other  articles  dealt  with  English  history  and 
with  ecclesiastical  establishments,  which  he  severely  im- 
pugned. To  a  periodical  of  short  duration.  The  Par- 
liamentary History  and  Review,  he  contributed  an  elaborate 
political  retrospect  of  the  parliament  of  1820-26.  In 
1829  appeared  the  Analysis  of  the  Human  Mind.  From 
1831  to  1833  he  was  largely  occupied  in  the  defence  of  the 
East  India  Company  during  the  controversy  attending  the 
renewal  of  its  charter,  he  being  in  virtue  of  his  office  the 
spokesman  of  the  court  of  directors.  In  1831  Sir  WiUiam 
Molesworth  projected  the  London  Review,  and  Jlill  con- 
tributed to  it  during  the  last  two  years  of  his  life.  His 
most  notable  article  was  one  entitled  "  The  Church  and  its 
Reform,"  which  was  much  too  sceptical  for  the  time,  and 
injured  the  Review.  His  last  published  book  was  the 
Fragment  on  Maekinlosh,  which  appeared  in  1835.  He 
died  on  the  23d  June  1836. 

A  considerable  space  would  be  required  to  do  justice  to  Mill's 
character — intellectual  and  moral — as  shown  both  in  his  writings 
and  in  his  intensely  active  and  influential  carter.  He  was  an  ex- 
cellent scholar,  in  the  sense  of  knowing  the  Greek  and  Roman 
classics.  His  other  accompUshments  included  general  history,  the 
philosophy  of  politics  in  the  most  comprehensive  acceptation,  logic, 
ethics,  and  mental  philosophy.  The  type  of  his  intellect  was  logi- 
cal in  the  highest  degree;  he  was,  above  all  things,  clear  and  pre- 
cise, an  enemy  of  every  form  of  looseness  of  reasoning,  and  a  crusher 
of  prevailing  fallacies.  This  is  the  most  notable  feature  in  his 
writings  throughout.  His  was  also  an  original  mind.  Except  in  a 
few  subjects,  which  had  been  so  well  elaborated  by  Bentham  that 
he  was  content  to  be  little  more  than  an  expounder  of  Bentham's 
views,  he  gave  a  fresh  turn  to  whatever  topic  he  took  up.  At  a 
time  when  social  subjects  were  subjected  almost  exclusively  to  an 
empirical  handling,  he  insisted  on  bringing  first  principles  to  bear 
at  ever}'  point;  in  this  lay  both  his  strength  and  his  weakness. 

His  greatest  literary  monument  is  the  History  of  J-iidia.  The 
materials  for  narrating  the  acquisition  by  England  of  its  Indian 
empire  were  put  into  shape  for  the  fii-st  time;  a  vast  body  of  political 
theory  was  brought  to  bear  on  the  deUneation  of  the  Hindu  civiliza- 
tion ;  and  the  conduct  of  the  actors  in  the  successive  stages  of  the 
conquest  and  administration  of  India  was  subjected  to  a  severe 
criticism.  The  work  itself,  and  the  author's  official  connexion  with 
India  for  the  last  seventeen  yeara  of  his  life,  effected  a  complete 
change  in  the  whole  system  of  goveraing  that  country. 

Mill  played  a  great  part  as  a  poUticiau  and  political  philosopher 
in  English  affairs  as  well.  He  was,  more  than  any  other  man,  the 
founder  of  what  was  called  philosophical  radicalism.  His  writings 
on  government  and  his  personal  influence  among  the  Liberal  poli- 
ticians of  his  time  determined  the  change  of  view  from  the  French 
Revolution  theories  of  the  rights  of  man  and  the  absolute  equality 
of  men  to  the  claiming  of  securities  for  good  government  through 
a  great  extension  of  the  electoral  suffrage.  Under  this  banner  it 
wis  that  the  Reform  Bill  was  fought  and  won. 

His  work  on  Political  Eco'wmy  was  intended  as  a  text-hook  of 
the  subject,  and  shows  all  the  author's  precision  and  lucidity.  It 
followed  up  the  views  of  Ricardo,  with  whom  Mill  was  in  habitual 
intimacy.  It  urged  strongly  the  modem  application  of  the  prin- 
ciple of  population,  and  started  the  doctrine  of  taxing  land  for  the 
unearned  uicrement  of  value. 

By  his  Aiialysis  of  the  Mind  and  his  Fragment  on  Mackintosh 


Mill  acquired  a  position  in  the  histoi7  of  psychology  and  ethics. 
Attached  to  tht  a  posteriori  school,  he  vindicated  its  claims  with 
conspicuous  ability.  He  took  up  the  problem."  of  mind  very  much 
after  the  fashion  of  the  Scotch  school,  as  then  represented  by  Reid, 
Stewart,  and  Brown,  but  made  a  new  start,  due  in  part  to  Hartlej-, 
and  still  more  to  his  own  independent  thinking.  He  caniedout  the 
principle  of  association  into  the  analysis  of  the  complex  emotional 
states,  as  the  affections,  the  aesthetic  emotions,  and  the  moral 
sentiment,  aU  which  he  endeavoured  to  resolve  into  pleasurable  and 
painful  sensations.  But  the  salient  merit  of  the  Analysis  is  the 
constant  endeavour  after  preci#e  definition  of  terms  and  clear  state- 
ment of  docti'ine^.  The  Fragmmt  on  Mackintosh  is  a  severe  ex- 
posure of  the  flimsiness  and  misrepresentations  of  Mackintosh's 
famous  disseitation  on  ethical  philosophy.  It  discusses,  in  a  very 
thorough  way,  the  foundations  of  ethics  from  the  author's  point  of 
view  of  utility. 

Mill's  influence  on  the  young  men  of  his  time  by  his  conversation 
has  been  especially  celebrated.  Among  those  that  came  under  this 
influence  were  some  of  the  greatest  names  in  the  generation  that 
succeeded  him.  He  had  himself  a  very  high  ideal  of  public  virtue, 
which  he  carried  out,  at  the  risk  of  sacrificing  all  his  chances  of 
worldly  advancement,  and  he  impressed  this  ideal  on  those  that 
surrounded  him, — most  of  all  on  his  own  son,  who  has  since  eclipsed 
his  father  in  fame,  if  not  in  genius. 

See  J.  S.  Mill's  Autobiography,  Bain's  Life  of  Jatnes  Mill,  G.  S. 
Bower's  Hartley  and  James  Mill.  (A  B.  *) 

MILL,  John  (c.  1645-1707),  editor  of  an  historically 
important  critical  edition  of  the  New  Testament,  was  born 
about  1645  at  Shap  in  Westmoreland,  entered  Queen's 
College,  Oxford,  as  a  servitor  in  1661,  and  took  his  master's 
degree  in  1669.  Soon  afterwards  he  was  chosen  fellow 
and  tutor  of  his  college;  in  1676  he  became  chaplain  to 
the  bishop  of  Oxford,  and  in  1681  he  obtained  the  rectory 
of  Blechingdon,  Oxfordshire,  and  was.  made  chaplain  to 
Charles  II.  From  1685  till  his  death  he  held  the  appoint, 
ment  of  principal  of  St  Edmund's  Hall;  and  in  1704  he 
was  nominated  by  Queen  Anne  to  a  prebendal  stall  in 
Canterbury.  He  died  on  June  23,  1707,  just  a  fortnight 
after  the  publication  of  his  Greek  Testament. 

Mill's  Novum  Tcstamcntwn  Grsccum,  cum  Icdionibus  varinntibus 
MSS.  Exemplarium,  Versionum,,  Editionum  SS.  Paivum  ct  Scrip- 
torum  Ecclcsiastic07-um,  et  in.  easdeni  notis  (Oxford,  fob  1707),  was 
undertaken  by  the  advice  and  encouragement  of  Fe'il,  his  predecessor 
in  the  field  of  New  Testament  criticism  ;  it  represents  the  labour  of 
thirtj*  years,  and  is  admitted  to  mark  a  great  advance  on  all  that 
had  previously  been  achieved.  The  text  indeed  is  that  of  R. 
Stephanus  (1550),  but  the  notes,  besides  embodying  all  previously 
existing  collections  of  various  readings,  add  a  vast  number  dcrivpil 
from  his  own  exammation  of  many  new  MSS.  and  Orieut.il  versions 
(the  latter  unfortunately  he  used  only  in  the  L.'xtiu  translations). 
He  was  the  fii-st  to  notice,  though  only  incidentally,  the  value  of 
the  concurrence  of  the  Latin  evidence  with  the  Codex  Alcxandrinus, 
the  only  representative  of  an  ancient  non-Westei'n  Greek  text  then 
sufficiently  kno^vn  ;  this  hint  was  nob  lost  on  Beutlcy  (see  "Westcott 
and  Hort,  Introduction  to  Xcio  Testament).  Mill's  various  readings, 
numbering  about  thirty  thousand,  were  attacked  by  AVhitby  in  his 
Exanien  as  destroying  the  validity  of  the  te.xt ;  Antony  Collins  also 
argued  in  the  same  sense  though  witli  a  different  object.  The  latter 
called  forth  a  reply  from  Bentley  (PhileUutherus  Lipsicnsis).  In  1710 
Kuster  reprinted  Mill's  Testament  at  Amsterdam  with  the  readings 
of  twelve  additional  MSS. 

MILL,  John  Sttjakt  (1806-1873),  son  of  James  Mnj. 
(q.v.),  was  born  in  London  on  the  20th  May  1806.  His 
education  was  from  first  to  last  undertaken  by  his  father,! 
and  is  likely  long  to  remain  a  standing  subject  for  wonder 
and  discussion.  Much  of  the  wonder  is  no  doubt  due  to: 
his  father's  monstrous  inversion  of  custom,  the  boy  being, 
set  almost  as  soon  as  he  could  speak  to  work  at  our  time- 
honoured  subjects  of  secondary  and  higher  education.  He 
was  taught  the  Greek  alphabet  at  the  age  of  three,  and  oue 
of  his  earliest  recollections,  as  he  has  recorded  in  his  auto- 
biography, was  learning  lists  of  common  Greek  words  witm 
their  English  meanings,  written  for  him  by  his  father  on| 
cards.  By  his  eighth  year  he  had  gone  through  in  the 
original  a  great  many  Greek  books.  "  Of  grammar,"  he 
says,  "  until  some  years  later,  I  learnt  no  more  than  the 
inflexions  of  the  nouns  and  verbs,  but  after  a  course  of 
vocables  proceeded  at  once  to  translation ;  and  I  faintly 


308 


M  i  L,  L, 


remember  going  through  ^sop's  Fables,  the  first  Greek 
book  which  I  read.  The  Anabasis,  which  I  remember 
better,  was  the  second.  I  learnt  no  Latin  until  my  eighth 
year.  At  that  time  i  had  road  under  my  father's  tuition 
a  number  of  Greek  proso  authors,  among  whom  I  remember 
the  whole  of  Herodotus  and  of  Xenophon's  Cyropcedia  and 
ifemoi-ials  of  Socrates,  some  of  the  lives  of  the  philosophers 
by  Diogenes  Laertius,  part  of  Lucian,  and  Isocratcs  Ad 
Demoniciim  and  Ad  Nicoclem.  I  also  rei^d,  in  1813,  the 
first  six  dialogues  (in  the  common  arrangement)  of  Plato, 
from  the  Euthypkron  to  the  Theatetvs  inclusive."  Besides 
all  these  Greek  books,  he  had  read  a  great  deal  of  history 
in  English — Robertson's  histories,  Hume,  Gibbon,  Wat';bn's 
Philip  II.  and  III.,  Hooke's  Roman  History,  Kollin's 
Ancient  History,  Langhorne's  Plutarch,  Burnet's  History 
of  My  Oivn  Times,  thirty  volumes  of  the  Annual  Bcgister, 
Millar's  Historical  View  of  the  English  Government, 
Mosheim's  Ecclesiastical  History,  M'Crie's  Knox,  and  two 
histories  of  the  Quakers. 

That  Mill  "  knew  Greek  "  and  "  read  Plato  "  before  he 
was  eight  years  old  is  often  repeated,  sometimes  as  an 
instance  of  amazing  precocity,  sometimes  as  an  awful 
example  of  injudicious  parental  forcing.  The  astonishment 
that  a  child  should  have  done  so  much  at  such  an  age  is 
probably  as  little  grounded  in  reason  as  was  ilill'S  own 
opininn  that  any  child  might  have  done  the  same.  It  is 
forgotten  that  many  thousands  of  persons  have  known 
Greek  before  the  age  of  eight  without  a  knowledge  of  the 
technicalities  of  Greek  grammar.  In  presence  of  the  fact 
that  Mill  was  never  distinguished  for  great  memory  of 
detail  or  richness  of  historical  or  literary  allusion,  it  is  a 
fair  conclusion  that  the  matter  of  his  reading  at  this  age 
was  of  as  little  service  to  him  in  after  life  as  if  he  had  read 
the  trashiest  of  boy's  o\vn  books.  This  is  not  to  say  that 
for  educational  purposes  his  early  years  were  wasted  as  in 
his  own  and  his  father's  opinion  they  generally  are.  But 
undoubtedly  the  main  factor  in  Mill's  education  was  not 
the  literature  put  into  his  hands,  but  his  constant  inter- 
course with  the  active  richly  stored  mind  and  strenuous 
character  of  his  father.  ,  If  any  should  be  tempted  to 
imitate  the  method,  they  should  bear  in  mind  that  this 
was  the  cardinal  element  of  it.  The  tutor  was  of  more 
importance  than  the  books.  The  reading  of  Plato's 
dialogues  would  have  been  only  an  exercise  in  rough 
translation  if  the  boy  had  not  had  a  Socrates  with  him  in 
living  communion.  The  child  was  a  constant  inmate  of 
his  father's  study,  and  trotted  by  his  side  in  his  walks, 
giving  from  jottings  on  slips  of  paper  as  good  an  account 
as  he  could  of  what  he  had  read.  Ho  thus  learnt  at  an 
unusually  early  ago  by  example,  precept,  and  practice  the 
habit  of  strenuous  application  to  difficult  work.  The 
fact  that  MUl  was  taught  thus  early  to  take  his  chief 
pleasure  in  overcoming  intellectual  difficulties,  and  to  realize 
the  meaning  of  general  terms,  accounts  for  the  singular 
and  altogether  unparalleled  ease  which  he  acquired  in  the 
treatment  of  political  and  social  generalizations,  not  in 
b:%rren  abstract  vagueness,  but  in  close  relation  with  facts. 
This  on  the  intellectual  side ;  and  on  the  moral  side  the 
child  was  almost  from  the  da^vn  of  consciousness  instructed 
to  regard  himself  as  consecrated  to  a  life  of  labom-  for  the 
public  good ;  his  ambition  was  kindled  to  follow  in  the 
footsteps  of  the  groat  men  of  all  ages,  and  at  the  same 
time  the  utmost  care  was  taken  to  purify  that  ambition 
from  unworthy  motives. 

A  contemporary  record  of  Mill's  studies  from  eight  to 
thirteen  is  published  in  Dr  Bain's  sketch  of  his  life.  It 
shows  that  the  A'.:tobiograj>liy  rather  understates  than 
overstates  the  amount  of  work  done.  At  the  age  of  eight 
he  began  Latin,  Euclid,  and  algebra,  and  was  appointed 
schoolmaster  to   the  younger  children  of   the  family — a 


post,  he  hints,  more  serviceable  to  his  intellect  than  to  his 
manners.  His  main  reading  was  still  history,  but  he  went 
through  all  the  Latin  and  Greek  authors  commonly  read 
in  the  schools  and  universities,  besides  several  that  arc  not 
commonly  read  by  undergraduates.  Ho  was  not  taught  to 
compose  either  in  Latin  or  in  Greek,  and  ho  was  never  au 
exact  scholar  in  the  academic  sense ;  it  was  for  the  subject- 
matter  that  he  was  required  to  read,  and  by  the  age  of 
ten  he  could  read  Plato  and  Demosthenes  with  ease.  His 
father's  History  of  India  was  published  in  1818;  immedi- 
ately thereafter,  about'  the  ago  of  twelve,  John,  under  his 
energetic  direction,  began  a  thorough  study  of  the  scholastic 
logic,  at  the  same  time  reading  Aristotle's  logical  treatises 
in  the  original  In  the  following  year  he  was  introduced 
to  political  economy.  And  there,  when  the  pupil  waa 
nearly  fourteen,  this  remarkable  education  terminated. 
From  that  time  he  worked  less  immediately  under  his 
father's  eye.  It  was  an  inevitable  incident  of  such  an 
education  that  MUl  should  acquire  many  of  his  father's 
speculative  opinions,  and  his  father's  way  of  defending 
them.  But  his  mind  did  not  receive  the  impres"  passively 
and  mechanically.  "  One  of  the  grand  objects  of  educa- 
tion," according  to  tl.e  elder  Mill,  "should  be  to  generate 
a  constant  and  anxious  concern  about  evidence";  and  he 
laboured  vrith  all  the  energy  of  his  strong  will  against 
allowing  his  son  to  become  a  parrot  of  his  own  opinions 
and  arguments.  The  duty  of  collecting  and  weighing 
evidence  for  himself  was  at  every  turn  impressed  upon  the 
boy  ;  he  was  taught  to  accept  no  opinion  upon  authority ; 
he  was  soundly  rated  if  he  could  not  gi-sje  a  reason  for  his 
beUefs.  John  Stuart  Mill  was  debberately  educated  as  an 
apostle,  but  it  was  as  an  apostle  of  reasoned  truth  in 
human  affairs,  not  as  an  apostle  of  any  system  of  dogmatic 
tenets.  It  was  purposely  to  prevent  any  falling  off  from 
this  high  moral  standard  till  it  should  become  part  of  his 
being  that  his  father  kept  the  boy  so  closely  with  himself. 
Much  pity  has  been  expressed  over  the  dreary  cheerless 
existence  that  the  child  must  have  led,  cut  off  from  all 
boyish  amusements  and  companionship,  working  day  after 
day  on  his  father's  treadmill ;  but  a  childhood  and  boyhood 
spent  in  the  daily  enlargement  of  knowledge,  with  the 
continual  satisfaction  of  ditficulties  conquered,  buoyed  n]> 
by  day-dreams  of  emulating  the  greatest  of  human 
benefactors,  need  not  have  been  an  unhappy  childhood, 
and  Mill  expressly  says  that  his  was  not  unhappy.  It 
seems  unhappy  onlj'  when  wo  compare  it  with  the  desires 
of  childhood  left  more  to  itself,  and  when  we  decline  to 
imagine  its  peculiar  enjoyments  aud  aspirations.  Mill 
complains  that  his  father  often  required  more  than  could 
reasonably  be  expected  of  him,  but  his  tasks  were'  not  bo 
severe  as  to  prevent  him  from  growing  up  a  healthy,  hardy, 
and  high-spirited  boy,  though  he  was  not  constitutionally 
robust,  and  his  tastes  and  pursuits  were  so  different  from 
those  of  other  boys  of  the  same  ago. 

Most  of  Mill's  fifteenth  year  was  spent  in  France  in  the 
family  of  Sir  Samuel  Bentham.  Away  from  his  father, 
ho  maintained  his  laborious  habits ;  the  disciiilino  held. 
Copious  extracts  from  a  diary  kept  by  him  at  this  timo 
are  given  by  Dr  Bain,  and  show  how  methodically  and 
incessantly  he  read  and  wrote,  studied  botany,  tackled 
advanced  mathematical  problems,  made  notes  on  the  scenery 
and  the  people  and  customs  of  the  country.  On  his  return 
in  1821  he  continued  his  old  studies  with  the  addition  of 
some  new  ones.  One  of  the  new  studios  was  Boman  law, 
which  he  read  vdlh  John  Austin,  his  father  having  lialf 
decided  on  the  bar  as  the  best  jirofcssiou  open  to  him. 
Another  was  psychology.  In  1823,  (vhen  he  bad  just 
completed  his  seventeenth  year,  the  notion  of  the  l<ar  as  a 
livelihood  was  abandoned,  and  he  entered  as  a  clerk  in  the 
examiner's  office   of  the  India  House,  "  with  the  under- 


MILL 


309 


i 


standing  that  he  should  be  employed  from'  the  beginning 
in  preparing  drafts  of  despatches,  and  be  thus  trained  up 
as  a  successor  to  those  who  then  filled  the  highest  depart- 
ments of  the  office." 

Mill's  work  at  the  India  Ho^ise,  which  was  henceforth 
his  livelihood,  did  not  come  before  the  public,  and  those 
who  have  scouted  his  political  writings  as  the  work  of  an 
abstract  philosopher,  entirely  unacquainted  ■n-ith  affairs, 
have  ignored  the  nature  of  his  duties.  From  the  first  he 
was  more  than  a  clerk,  and  after  a  short  apprenticeship  he 
was  promoted,  in  1828,  to  the  responsible  position  of 
assistant-examiner.  The  duty  of  the  so-called  examiners 
was  to  examine  the  letters  of  the  agents  of  the  Company 
in  India,  and  to  draft  instructions  in  reply.  The  character 
of  the  Company's  government  was  almost  entirely  depend- 
ent upon  their  abilities  as  statesmen.  For  twenty  years, 
from  1S36  to  1856,  Mill  had  charge  of  the  Company's 
relations  with  the  native  states.  In  the  hundreds  of 
despatches  that  he  wrote  in  this  capacity,  much,  no  doubt, 
was  done  in  accordance  with  established  routine,  but  few 
statesmen  of  his  generation  had  a  wider  experience  of  the 
responsible  application  of  principles  of  government  to 
actual  emergencies.  That  he  said  so  little  about  this  work 
in  the  Autobiography  was  probably  because  his  main  con- 
cern there  was  to  expound  the  influences  that  afiected  his 
moral  and  mental  development.  A  man  of  different 
temperament  might  have  found  abundance  of  dramatic 
interest  in  watching  the  personal  and  political  changes  in 
so  many  distinct  states.  But  Mill  makes  no  reminiscences 
of  this  kind,  nor  does  he  give  any  clue  to  the  results  of 
his  own  initiative. 

To  return  to  his  extra-oflicial  activity,  which  received  an 
immense  impulse  about  the  time  of  his  entering  the  India 
House  from  what  must  strike  a  man  of  the  world  as  a  strange 
source.  The  reading  of  Dumont's  e.xposition  of  Bentham's 
doctrines  in  the  Traite  de  Legislation  was  an  epoch  in 
Mill's  life.  It  awoke  in  him  an  ambition  as  enthusiastic 
and  impassioned  as  a  young  man's  first  love.  The 
language  that  he  uses  about  it  in  his  autobiography  reveals 
a  warmth  of  inner  life  that  few  people  would  suspect  from 
the  record  of  his  dry  studies.  When  he  laid  do\vn  the  last 
volume,  he  says,  he  had  become  a  different  being.  It 
gave  unity  to  the  detached  and  fragmentary  component 
parts  of  his  knowledge  and  beliefs.  "I  now  had  opinions — 
a  creed,  a  doctrine,  a  philosophy — in  one  among  the  best 
senses  of  the  word,  a  religion,  the  inculcation  and  diffusion 
of  which  could  be  made  the  principal  outward  purpose  of 
a  life.  And  I  had  a  grand  conception  laid  before  me  of 
changes  to  be  effected  in  the  condition  of  mankind  through 
that  doctrine."  He  had  been  carefully  bred  to  contemplate 
work  for  human  welfare  as  the  ruling  motive  of  his  life ; 
that  motive  had  now  received  definite  direction. 

Many  a  youth  has  entered  the  world  with  ambition 
equally  high,  but  few  have  felt  as  Mill  felt  the  first  shock 
of  despair,  and  fewer  still  have  rallied  from  that  despair 
with  such  indomitable  resolution.  The  main  secret  of  the 
great  "  crisis  "  of  his  youthful  life  is  probably  to  be  found 
in  the  lofty  ardour  of  the  aspirations  then  conceived  and 
shaped.  For  four  years  he  worked  vrith  faith  and  hope  in 
his  mission,  and  these  were  years  of  incessant  propagandist 
activity.  The  enthusiast  of  seventeen,  burning  to  reorganize 
human  affairs  so  as  to  secure  the  greatest  happiness  of  the 
greatest  number,  set  siege  to  the  public  nrind  through 
several  approaches.  He  constituted  a  few  of  his  youthful 
friends,  imbued  with  the  principles  of  his  new  creed,  into 
a  society  which  he  called  the  "  Utilitarian  "  Society,  taking 
the  word,  as  he  tells  ns,  from  one  of  Gait's  noveb.  Two 
newspapers  were  open  to  him — the  Traveller,  edited  by  a 
friend  of  Bentham's,  and  the  Chronicle,  edited  by  his 
lather's  friend  BlacL    One  of  his  first  efforts  was  a  solid 


argument  for  freedom  of  discussion,  in  a  series  of  letters 
to  the  Chronicle  apropos  of  the  prosecution  of  Richard 
Carlile.  But  he  watched  all  public  incidents  with  a 
vigilant  eye,  and  seized  every  passing  opportunity  of 
exposing  departures  from  sound  principle  in  parliament 
and  courts  of  justice.  Another  outlet  was  opened  up  for 
him  in  1824  by  the  starting  of  the  Westmimier  Review, 
and  still  another  in  the  following  year  in  the  Parliamentary 
History  and  Review.  This  year  also  he  found  a  congenial 
occupation  in  editing  Bentham's  Rationale  of  Judicial 
Evidence.  Into  this  he  threw  himself  with  zeal  And  all 
the  time,  his  mind  full  of  public  questions,  he  discussed 
and  argued  eagerly  with  the  ma^ny  men  of  promise  and 
distinction  who  came  to  his  father's  house.  He  engaged 
in  set  discussions  at  a  reading  society  formed  at  Crete's 
house  in  1825,  and  in  set  debates  at  a  Speculative  Society 
formed  in  the  same  year. 

"A  very  disquisitive  youth,"  was  Peacock's  description 
of  young  Mill  at  this  period,  and  this  was  probably  how 
the  enthusiast  struck  most'  of  his  outside  acquaintances. 
But  the  glow  of  a  great  ambition  as  well  as  the  energy  of 
a  piercing  intellect  might  have  been  felt  in  his  writings. 
His  mission  was  none  the  less  arduous  that  he  proposed  to 
convert  the  world  by  reason.  Only  the  fulness  of  unbroken 
hope  could  have  supported  his  powers,  if  he  had  had  a 
frame  of  iron,  under  the  strain  of  such  incessant  labour. 
All  of  a  sudden,  a  misgiving  which  he  compares  to  the 
Methodist's  "  first  conviction  of  sin "  made  a  rift  in  the 
wholeness  of  his  faith  in  his  mission.  "It  was  in  the 
autumn  of  1826.  I  was  in  a  dull  state  of  nerves,  such 
as  everybody  is  occasionally  liable  toj  unsusceptible  to 
enjoyment  or  pleasurable  excitement ;  one  of  those  moods 
when  what  is  pleasure  at  other  times  becomes  insipid  or 

indifferent In  this  frame  of  mind  it  occurred  to 

me  to  put  the  question  directly  to  myself,  '  Suppose  that 
all  your  objects  in  life  were  realized,  that  all  the  changes 
in  institutions  and  opinions  which  you  are  now  looking 
forward  to  could  be  completely  effected  at  this  very 
instant,  would  this  be  a  great  joy  and  happiness  to  you ! ' 
And  an  irrepressible  self-consciousness  distinctly  answered, 
'  No  ! '  At  this  my  heart  sank  within  me  ;  the  whole 
foundation  on  which  my  life  was  constructed  fell  down. 
All  my  happiness  was  to  have  been  found  in  the  continual 
pursuit  of  this  end.  The  end  had  ceased  to  charm,  and 
how  could  there  ever  again  be  any  interest  in  the  means  I 
I  seemed  to  have  nothing  left  to  Uve  for." 

The  passage  in  his  autobiography  in  which  Mill  gives 
an  account  of  this  prostrating  disenchantment  and  his 
gradual  release  from  its  benumbing  spell  is  one  of  the  most 
interesting  chapters  in  personal  history.  The  first  break  in 
the  gloom  came,  he  tells  us,  from  his  reading  in  Marmontel's 
Memoires  "the  passage  which  relates  his  father's  death, 
the  distressed  position  of  the  family,  and  the  sudden 
inspiration  by  which  he,  then  a  mere  boy,  felt  and  made 
them  feel  that  he  would  be  everything  to  them — would 
supply  the  place  of  all  that  they  had  lost."  Mill  was 
moved  to  tears  by  the  narrative,  and  his  burden  grew 
lighter  at  the  thought  that  all  feeling  was  not  dead  vrithin 
him,  that  he  was  not  a  mere  intellectual  machine.  This 
incident,  and  the  delight  that  he  now  began  to  take  in 
Wordsworth's  "  Poems  founded  on  the  Affections,"  gives  a 
clue  to  one  of  the  secrets  of  Mill's  despondency.  It  was 
an  unsatisfied  longing  for  personal  affection,  for  love  and 
friendship,  of  which  his  life  hitherto  had  been  barren. 
His  father  seems  to  have  been  reserved,  undemonstrative 
even  to  the  pitch  of  chilling  sternness  in  his  intercourse 
with  his  farnily ;  and  among  young  Mill's  comrades  con' 
tempt  of  feeling  was  almost  a  watchword,  because  it  is  s« 
often  associated  with  mischievous  prejudice  and  wrong 
conduct.    Himself  absorbed  in  abstract  questions  and  pro 


310 


M  ILL 


jects  of  general  philanthropy,  he  had  been  careless  of 
winning  or  keeping  personal  attachment.  But  it  was  not 
till  despair  first  seized  him,  as  he  looked  back  at  the 
poverty  of  the  results  of  his  work  as  an  apostle,  that  Mill 
began  to  feel  the  void  in  his  affections  and  the  need  of 
human  sympathy.  We  must  remember  -how  little  when 
his  ambition  was  formed  he  knew  of  the  living  world 
around  him.  He  knew  in  terms  that  political  and  social 
change  must  be  slow ;  he  could  whisper  patience  to  him- 
self, and  say  to  himself  that  his  life  must  be  happy  because 
the  attainment  of  his  great  object  must  occupy  the  whole 
of  it;  but  without  experience  he  could  not  have  been 
prepared  for  the  actual  slowness  of  the  reformer's  work,  or 
armed  against  its  terribly  oppressive  influence.  Inevitably 
he  underrated  the  stolidity  and  strength  of  the  forces 
arrayed  against  him.  Four  years  seems  a  long  time  at  that 
age.  In  1826  Mill  could  look  back  to  four  years  of  eager 
toil.  What  were  the  results  1  He  had  become  convinced 
that  his  comrades  in  the  Utilitarian  Society,  who  never 
numbered  more  than  ten,  had  not  the  stuff  in  them  for  a 
world-shaking  propaganda  ;  the  society  itself  was  dissolved; 
the  Parliamentary  Beview  was  a  failure ;  the  Westminster 
did  not  pay  its  expenses ;  Bentham's  Judicial  Evidence  pro- 
duced little  effect  on  the  reviewers.  His  own  reception  at 
the  Speculative  Debating  Society,  where  he  first  measured 
his  strength  in  public  conflict,  was  calculated  to  produce 
self-distrust.  He  found  himself  looked  upon  with  curiosity 
as  a  precocious  phenomenon,  a  "  made  man,"  an  intellectual 
machine  set  to  grind  certain  tunes.  The  most  clear  and 
cogent  reasoning  failed  to  sway  his  audience.  Great  things 
had  been  expected  of  this  society  as  a  means  of  bringing 
together  for  close  discussion  the  leading  young  men  then 
in  public  life  or  looking  forward  to  it.  Its  first  session 
proved  a  fiasco,  llie  leaders  that  had  been  expected  stayed 
away.  With  these  repulses  to  his  hopes  along  the  whole 
line  of  his  activity.  Mill  must  also  have  suffered  from  the 
nervous  exhaustion  that  only  the  hope  and  heat  of  the 
fight  had  kept  him  from  feeling  before.  No  wonder  that 
he  was  disheartened,  began  to  feel  defects  in  his  father's 
training,  to  question  and  analyse  his  own  faith,  to  yearn 
for  the  solace  of  personal  affection,  and  to  reconstitute  his 
scheme  of  life. 

That  in  spite  of  this  rude  shock  the  foundations  laid  by 
his  early  training  remained  stable  appears  from  the  facts 
that  all  through  the  period  of  his  gloom  he  continued 
working  as  before,  and  that  he  considered  himself  bound, 
once  convinced  that  his  old  plan  of  life  was  insufficient,  to 
build  up  a  thoroughly  reasoned  new  plan  wherewith  to 
give  new  heart  and  hope  to  his  work.  The  new  system 
was  much  less  different  from  the  old  than  might  be  sup- 
posc.l  from  what  he  says  of  the  struggle  that  it  cost  him 
to  reach  it.  Regard  for  the  public  good  was  still  his 
religion,  the  ruUng  motive  that  gave  unity  to  his  conduct. 
But  he  now  recognized  that  this  was  too  vague  and  insub- 
stantial an  object  to  be  sufficient  of  itself  for  the  satisfac- 
tion of  a  man's  affections.  It  is  a  proof  of  the  dominating 
force  of  his  father's  characte'r  that  it  cost  the  younger  Mill 
such  an  effort  to  shake  off  his  stern  creed  about  poetry 
and  personal  emotion.  Like  Plato,  the  elder  Mill  would 
have  put  poets  under  ban  as  ministers  of  prejudice  and 
enemies  of  truth.  And  ho  often  insisted  on  the  wisdom 
of  rcst-ricting  as  much  as  possible  the  private  affections, 
while  expanding  as  much  as  possible  the  public  affections. 
Lander's  maxim  of  "  few  acquaintances,  fewer  friends,  no 
familiarities"  had  his  cordial  approval.  These  doctrines 
the  younger  Mill  at  first  took  up  with  boyish  enthusiasm 
and  pedantry,  but  it  was  against  this  part  of  his  father's 
creed  that  he  now  felt  himself  forced  in  reason  to  revolt. 
He  stood  too  much  in  awe  of  his  father  to  make  him  the 
confidant  of  his  difficulties.     He  wrestled  with  them  in 


the  gloomy  solitude  of  his  own  mind.  He  was  victorious  - 
he  reached  firm  ground  at  last ;  but  the  struggle  left  him 
in  several  respects  changed.  He  carried  out  of  the  struggle 
as  the  fruits  of  victory  a  more  catholic  view  of  the  elements 
of  human  happiness,  a  delight  in  the  poetry  of  nature  and 
the  affections  as  well  as  the  poetry  of  heroic  unselfish 
character  and  action,  a  disposition  to  study  more  sympa- 
thetically the  point  of  view  of  opponents,  a  more  courteous 
style  of  polemic,  a  hatred  of  sectarianism,  an  ambitioa 
no  less  noble  and  disinterested  but  moderated  to  practical 
possibilities. 

In  the  course  of  the  next  few  years  Mill  ■UTote  compara^ 
tively  little,  but  he  "  carried  on,"  as  he  says,  "  a  quantity 
of  thinking  respecting  a  host  of  subjects."  It  was  a  period 
of  search,  deliberation,  germination,  and  striking  root. 
Coincident  if  not  causally  connected  with  the  relief  from 
his  spiritual  crisis  came  his  first  consciousness  of  power 
as  "  an  original  and  independent  thinker."  In  the  dia- 
lectic conversations  with  a  small  band  of  students  at 
Grote's  house,  he  regained  the  self-confidence  that  had  beeii 
shaken  in  the  larger  and  rougher  arena  of  the  Speculative 
Debating  Society.  The  beginning  of  his  worlcs  on  logic 
and  political  economy  may  be  traced  back  to  those  discus- 
sions, and  he  learnt  from  them,  he  tells  us,  the  habit  of 
"never  accepting  half  solutions  of  difficulties  as  complsta ; 
never  abandoning  a  puzzle,  but  again  and  again  returning 
to  it  until  it  was  cleared  up ;  never  allowing  obscura 
corners  of  a  subject  to  remain  unexplored,  because  they  dirt 
not  appear  important ;  never  thinking  that  he  perfectly 
understood  any  part  of  a  subject  until  he  understood  the 
whole."  He  learnt  also  an  important  moral  lesson  from 
the  Speculative  Society,  besides  learning  the  stvong  pomts 
of  other  political  and  social  creeds  and  the  weak  points  of 
Benthamism  from  defending  it  point  by  point  against  alt 
comers.  With  all  his  despondency,  he  did  not  abandon 
the  meetings  of  the  society  after  the  fiasco  of  the  firs: 
session.  He  stood  by  it  firmly,  and  in  a  short  time  had 
the  triumph  of  seeing  its  debates  famous  enough  to  attract 
men  with  whom  it  was  profitable  for  him  to  interchange 
opinions,  among  others  Maurice  and  Sterling.  He  ceased 
to  attend  the  society  in  1829,  but  he  carried  away  from 
it  the  strengthening  memory  of  failure  overcome  by  per- 
severing effort,  and  the  important  doctrinal  conviction  that 
a  true  system  of  poUtical  philosophy  wai  "something  much 
more  complex  and  many-sided  than  ht  had  previously  had 
any  idea  of,  and  that  its  office  was  to  supply,  not  a  set 
of  model  institutions,  but  principles  from  which  the  insti- 
tutions suitable  to  any  given  circumstances  might  be 
deduced." 

The  first  sketch  of  Mill's  political  philosophy  appeared 
in  a  series  of  contributions  to  the  Examiner  in  the  autumn 
of  1830  on  "Prospects  in  France."  He  was  in  Paris  soon 
after  the  July  Revolution,  made  the  acquaintance  of  the 
leading  spirits  among  the  younger  men ;  and  in  his  discus- 
sion of  what  they  were  doing  and  what  they  should  do  in 
making  a  new  constitution  we  find  the  germs  of  many 
thoughts  afterwards  more  fully  developed  in  his  Rejyreten- 
iative  Govemmeni. 

Tho  division  of  a  man's  life  into  periods  must  always 
be  a  rough  partition,  but  we  may  conveniently  and  T^^th 
tolerable  accuracy  take  those  letters  as  marking  the  close 
of  his  period  of  meditative  search,  of  radication,  and  his 
return  to  hopeful  aspiring  activity.  It  was  characteristic 
of  the  nature  of  the  man  that  he  should  bo  stirred  to  such 
delight  by  the  Revolution  in  France,  and  should  labour  so 
earnestly  to  make  liis  countrymen  understand  with  what 
gravity  and  sobriety  it  had  been  effected.  Their  own 
Reform  Bill  came  soon  after,  and  it  is  again  characteristic 
of  Mill — at  once  of  his  enthusiasm  and  of  his  steady  deter- 
mination to  do  for  humanity  the  work  that  nobody  else 


MILL 


111 


aee«ed  able  or  willing  to  do — that  we  find  him  in  the  heat 
of  the  struggle  in  1831  writing  to  the  Examiner  a  series 
of  letters  on  "  The  Spirit  of  the  Age "  which  drew  from 
Carlyle  the  exclamation,  "Here  is  a  new  mystic!"  We 
can  easily  see  now  what  it  was  in  these  remarkable  essays 
that  fascinated  Carlyle ;  it  was  the  pervading-  opinion  that 
in  every  natural  state  of  society  power  must  be  in  the 
hands  of  the  wisest.  This  was  the  condition  of  stability; 
when  power  and  wisdom  ceased  to  coincide,  there  was  a 
disturbance .  of  the  equilibrium  till  this  coincidence  was 
again  effected.  But  whether  Carlyle  was  right  in  the 
epithet  "  mystic  "  may  be  judged  from  the  fact  that  Mill's 
inductive  logic  was  the  direct  result  of  his  aspirations  after 
political  stability  as  determined  by  the  dominion  of  the 
wisest.  "  Why  is  it,"  he  asked,  "  that  the  multitude  accept 
implicitly  the  decisions  of  the  wisest,  of  the  specially 
skilled,  in  physical  science  1 "  Because  in  physical  science 
there  is  all  but  complete  agreement  in  opinion.  "  And  why 
this  agreement  1 "  Because  all  accept  the  same  methods 
of  investigation,  the  same  tests  of  truth.  Is  it  possible 
then  to  obtain  unanimity  as  to-  the  methods  of  arriving  at 
conclusions  in  social  and  political  matters,  so  as  to  secure 
similar  agreement  of  opinion  among  the  specially  skilled, 
and  similar  general  respect  for  their  authority?  The 
same  thought  appears  in  a  review  of  Herschel's  Natural 
Philosophy,  -written  about  the  same  time.  Mill  remarks 
that  the  uncertainty  hanging  over  the  very  elements  of 
moral  and  social  philosophy  proves  that  the  means  of 
arriving  at  the  truth  in  those  sciences  are  not  yet  properly 
understood.  "  And  whither,"  he  adds,  "  can  mankind  so 
advantageously  turn,  in  order  to  learn  the  proper  means, 
and  to  form  their  minds  to  the  proper  habits,  as  to  that 
branch  of  knowledge  in  which  by  universal  acknowledg- 
ment the  greatest  number  of  truths  have  been  ascertained, 
and  the  greatest  possible  degree  of  certainty  arrived  at!" 

By  1831  Mill's  enthusiasm  for  humanity  had  been 
thoroughly  reawakened,  and  had  taken  the  definite  shape 
of  an  aspiration  to  supply  an  unimpeachable  method  of 
search  for  conclusions  in  moral  and  social  science.  From 
the  platform  on  which  Carlyle  and  Mill  met  in  1831  they 
travelled  different  roads, ^the  one  to  preach  the  duty  of 
obedience  to  the  wisest,  the  other  to  search  for  a  means  by 
which  wisdom  might  be  acquired  such  as  would  command 
respect  and  -win  the  assent  of  free  conviction.  No  mystic 
ever  worked  with  warmer  zeal  than  Mill.  But  his  zeal 
encountered  a  check  which  baffled  him  for  several  years, 
and  which  left  its  mark  in  various  inconsistencies  and 
incoherences  in  his  completed  system.  He  had  been  bred 
by  his  father  in  a  great  veneration  for  the  syllogistic  logic 
as  an  antidote  against  confused  thinking.  He  attributed 
to  his  early  discipline  in  this  logic  an  impatience  of  vague 
language  which  in  all  likelihood  was  really  fostered  in  hi-m 
by  his  study  of  the  Platonic  dialogues  and  of  Bentham,  for 
he  always  had  in  himself  more  of  Plato's  fertile  ingenuity 
in  canvassing  the  meaning  of  vague  terms  than  the  school- 
man's rigid  consistency  in  the  use  of  them.  Be  this  as  it 
may,  enthusiastic  as  he  was  for  a  new  logic  that  might 
give  certainty  to  moral  and  social  conclusions,  MiU  was  no 
less  resolute  that  the  new  logic  should  stand  in  no 
antagonism  to  the  old.  In  his  Westminster  ireView  of 
Whately's  Logic  in  1828  (invaluable  to  all  studeixls  of  the 
genesis  of  Mill's  logic)  he  appears,  curiously  enough,  as  an 
ardent  and  brilUant  champion  of  the  syllogistic  logic  against 
highfliers  such  as  the  Scotch  philosophers  who  talk  of 
"  superseding "  it  by  "  a  supposed  system  of  inductive 
logic."  His  inductive  logic  must  "supplement  and  not 
supersede."  It  must  be  concatenated  -with  the  syllogistic 
logic,  the  two  to  be  incorporated  in  one  system.  But  for 
several  years  he  searched  in  vain  for  the  means  of  con- 
catsnation. 


Meantime,  whUe  recurring  again  and  again,  as  was  his 
custom,  to  this  cardinal  difficulty,  Mill  worked  indefatigably 
in  other  directions  -where  he  saw  his  way  clear,  expatiating 
over  a  -wide  range  of  political,  social,  economical,  and 
philosophical  questions.  The  working  of  the  new  order  in 
France,  and  the  personalities  of  the  leading  men,  had  a  pro- 
found interest  for  him ;  he  wrote  on  the  subject  in  the 
Examiner.  He  had  ceased  to  write  for  the  Westminster 
in  1828;  but  during  the  years  1832  and  1833  he  con- 
tributed many  essays  to  Tail's  Mar/azine,  the  Jurist,  and 
the  Monthly  Repository.  In  1835  the  London  Review  was 
started,  with  Mill  as  editor  ;  it  was  amalgamated  with  the 
Westminster  in  1836,  and  Mill  continued  editor  till  1840. 
Much  of  what  he  -wrote  then  was  subsequently  incorporated 
in  his  systematic  works  ;  some  of  his  essays  were  reprinted 
in  his  first  two  volumes  of  Dissertations  and  Discussions 
(1 859).  The  essays  on  Bentham  and  Coleridge  constituted 
the  first  manifesto  of  the  new  spirit  which  Jlill  sought  to 
breathe  into  English  Radicalism.  Biat  the  reprinted  papers 
give  no  just  idea  of  the  immense  range  of  Mill's  energy  at 
this  time.  His  position  in  the  India  Office,  where  alone 
he  did  work  enough  for  most  men,  cut  him  off  from 
entering  parliament ;  but  he  laboured  hard  though 
ineffectually  to  influence  the  legislature  from  without  by 
combating  the  disposition  to  rest  and  be  thankful.  In 
his  Autobiography  he  admits  that  the  attempt  to  form  a 
Radical  party  in  parliament  at  that  time  was  chimerical. 

It  was  in  1837,  on  reading  Wliewell's  Inductive  Sciences 
and  re-reading  Herschel,  that  Mill  at  last  saw  his  way 
clear  both  to  formulating  the  methods  of  scientific  investi- 
gation and  joining  on  the  new  logic  as  a  supplement  to  the 
old.  Epoch-making  as  his  logic  undoubtedly  was,  from 
the  multitude  of  new  views  opened  up,  from  the  addition 
of  a  new  wing  to  the  rambling  old  building,  and  from  the 
inspiring  force  ivith  which  every  dusty  chamber  was 
searched  into  and  illuminated.  Mill  did  not  escape  all  the 
innumerable  pitfalls  of  language  that  beset  the  pioneer  in 
such  a  subject.  It  is  evident  from  a  study  of  his  purposes 
and  the  books  from  which  he  started  that  his  worst 
perplexities  were  due  to  his  determination  to  exhibit 
scientific  method  as  the  complement  of  scholastic  logic. 
In  his  defence  of  the  syllogism  he  confounds  the  syllogistic 
forms  with  deductive  reasoning.  Every  deductive  reason- 
ing may  be  thrown  into  the  form  of  a  syllogism,  but  not 
every  syllogism  is  deductive.  The  reasoning  in  several  of 
the  syllogistic  forms  is  not  deductive  at  all  in  the  sense 
of  involving  a  movement  from  general  to  particular. 
Although  he  knew  Aristotle  in  the  original.  Mill  did  not 
recognize  the  fact  that  the  syllogistic  machinery  was 
primarily  constructed  for  the  reasoning  together  of  terms. 
As  regards  the  word  induction,  Mill  uses  it  in  different 
connexions  to  cover  three  or  four  distinguishable  meanings 
— induction  viewed  as  the  establishment  of  predications 
about  a  general  term,  induction  viewed  as  inference  from 
the  known  to  the  unknown,  induction  viewed  as  verifica- 
tion by  experiment,  and  induction  viewed  as  the  proof  of 
propositions  of  causation.  The  form  of  his  system  was 
reaUy  governed  by  the  scholastic  notion  of  induction  as  a 
means  of  establishing  general  propositions ;  the  inductive 
part  of  his  system  is  introduced  after  the  deductive  under 
this  character ;  while  the  greater  portion  of  the  substance 
of  what  he  treats  of  under  the  name  of  induction,  and 
especially  the  so-called  exjieri  mental  methods,  have  nothing 
whatever  to  do  with  the  establishment  of  general  proposi- 
tions, in  the  technical  sense  of  general  propositions.' 

But  the  permanent  value  and  influence  of  Mill's  inductive 
logic  is  not  to  be  measured  by  technical  inaccuracies  and 
inconsistencies,  to  which  an  academic  mind  may  easily 
attach  undue  importance.  In  the  technical  history  of  the 
science,  ilill's  Logic  may  be  viewed  as  an  attempt  to  fuse 


312 


]\f  I  L  L 


tlie  i)ractical  tests  of  truth  set  forth  in  Herschel's  Discourse 
(■11  Natural  Philosophy  with  the  theoretic  views  of  induc- 
tion propounded  in  Whately's  Logic.  But  in  the  history 
of  tliought  the  great  importance  of  the  work  is  duo  not  so 
much  to  its  endeavour  to  formulate  the  methods  of  science 
and  lay  bare  the  first  principles  on  which  they  rest  as  to 
its  systematic  application  of  scientific  method  to  what  he 
called  the  moral  sciences.  Mill  has  often  been  criticized 
as  if  he  had  pretended  to  teach  men  how  to  conduct  their 
■  investigations  and  how  to  make  discoveries  in  the  physical 
sciences.  His  work  was  rather  to  educe  from  the  practice 
of  men  of  science  the  principles  on  which  they  proceed  in 
testing  and  proving  their  speculations  concerning  cause 
and  effect  in  the  physical  world,  and  see  whether  the  same 
principles  could  not  be  applied  in  testing  and  proving 
speculations  concerning  «ause  and  effect  in  the  moral 
world.  What  is  the  effect  upon  human  character  and 
human  happiness  of  given  social  and  physical  conditions — 
climate,  institutions,  customs,  laws  ?  How  can  conclusions 
upon  such  points  be  proved  ?  These  were  the  questions 
in  which  Mill  was  interested,  and  the  striking  novelty  of 
his  work  was  its  endeavour  to  show  that  propositions  of 
cause  and  effect  in  human  affairs  must  be  proved,  if  they 
admit  of  proof  at  all,  absolute  or  approximate,  on  the 
same  principles  with  propositions  of  cause  and  effect  in 
the  material  world. 

The  Logic  was  published  in  1843.  In  1844  appeared 
his  Essays  on  Some  Unsettled  Qtiestioiis  in  Political 
^Economy.  These  essays  were  worked  out  and  written 
many  years  before,  and  show  ^lill  in  his  first  stage  as  a 
political  economist.  Four  out  of  the  five  essays  are 
elaborate  and  powerful  solutions  of  perplexing  technical 
problems — the  distribution  of  the  gains  of  international 
commerce,  the  influence  of  consumption  on  production,  the 
definition  of  productive  and  unproductive  labour,  the  pre- 
cise relations  between  profits  and  wages.  Though  Mill 
appears  here  purely  as  the  disciple  of  Ricardo,  striving 
after  more  precise  statement,  and  reaching  forward  to 
further  consequences,  we  can  well  understand  in  reading 
these  essays,  searching,  luminous,  large  and  bold  in  outline, 
firmly  wrought  in  detail,  how  about  the  time  when  he  first 
sketched  them  he  began  to  be  conscious  of  power  as  an 
original  and  independent  thinker. 

That  originality  and  independence  became  more  con- 
spicuous when  he  reached  his  second  stage  as  a  political 
economist,  struggling  forward  towards  the  standpoint 
from  which  his  systematic  work  was  written.  It  would 
seem  that  in  his  fits  of  despondency  one  of  the  thoughts 
that  sat  upon  him  like  a  nightmare  and  marred  his  dreams 
of  human  improvement  was  the  apparently  inexorable 
character  of  economic  laws,  condemning  thousands  of 
labourers  to  a  cramped  and  miserable  existence,  and 
tkousands  more  to  semi-starvation.  From  this  oppressive 
feeling  he  found  relief  in  the  thought  set  forth  in  the 
opening  of  the  second  book  of  his  Political  Economy — that, 
while  the  conditions  of  production  have  the  necessity  of 
physical  laws,  the  distribution  of  what  is  produced  among 
the  various  classes  of  producers  is  a  matter  of  human 
arrangement,  dependent  upon  alterable  customs  and 
institutions.  There  can  be  little  doubt  that  this  thought, 
whether  or  not  in  the  clear  shape  that  it  afterwards 
assumed,  was  the  germ  of  all  that  is  most  distinctive  in 
]iis  system  of  p^litical  economy.  It  was  as  far  as  possible 
from  the  rigidity  of  his  method  of  exposition  to  fall  into 
the  confusion  of  supiiosing  that  it  was  for  political 
economy  to  discuss  the  equity  of  different  modes  of 
distribution,  or  the  value  of  other  objects  of  human 
fndeavour  conflicting  with  the  i>roduction  of  wealth  ;  but 
he  ])ut  economic  inquiri'.\s  cloariy  in  tlicir  proper  place  as 
leading  to  conclusions  tkit  were  not  always  tiual  and  bind- 


ing on  tho  practical  statesman,  but  had  to  be  taken  with 
other  considerations  as  governing  rational  human  action. 
Besides  thus  putting  political  economy  in  its  just  correla- 
tion with  other  parts  of  social  science  and  conduct,  Jlill 
widened  the  scope  of  economic  inquiries  by  discussing  the 
economic  consequences  of  variotis  ideal  social  arrangement.s, 
and  more  especially  different  modes  of  distributing  produce 
between  landlord,  capitalist,  and  labourer,  ilill  certainly 
redeemed  political  economy  from  the  reproach  of  being  a 
dry  science.  Nobody  with  any  interest  in  human  improve- 
ment can  read  his  work  with  indifference.  And  he  did 
this  without  in  any  way  disturbing  the  original  conception 
of  poUtical  economy  as  the  science  of  cause  and  effect  in 
the  production  of  wealth.  One  of  his  most  eminent 
successors,  the  late  Professor  Cairnes,  thus  admirably 
summed  up  his  work  as  a  political  economist : — "  As  he 
himself  used  to  put  it,  Ricardo  supplied  the  backbone  of 
the  science ;  but  it  is  not  less  certain  that  the  limbs,  the 
joints,  the  muscular  developments — all  that  renders 
political  economy  a  complete  and  organized  body  of 
knowledge — have  been  the  work  of  Mill." 

While  his  great  systematic  works  were  in  progress, 
Mill  wrote  very  little  on  events  or  books  of  the  day.  Ho 
turned  aside  for  a  few  months  from  his  Political  Economy, 
during  the  winter  of  the  Irish  famine  (1846-47)  to 
advocate  the  creation  of  peasant-proprietorships  as  a 
remedy  for  distress  and  disorder  in  Ireland.  He  found 
time  also  to  write  elaborate  articles  on  French  history  and 
Greek  history  in  the  Edmhurgh  Ecvieio  apropos  of  Jlichelet, 
Guizot,  and  Grote,  besides  some  less  elaborate  essays. 

The  Political  Economy  was  pubhshed  in  1848.  Slill 
could  now  feel  that  the  main  work  he  had  proposed  for 
himself  was  accomplished ;  but,  though  he  wrote  compara- 
tively little  for  some  years  afterwards,  he  remained  as 
much  as  ever  on  the  alert  for  opportunities  of  useful 
influence,  and  pressed  on  with  hardly  diminished 
enthusiasm  in  his  search  for  useful  truth.  Among  other 
things,  he  made  a  more  thorough  study  of  socialist  wTiters, 
with  the  result  that,  though  he  was  not  converted  to  any 
of  their  schemes  as  being  immediately  practicable,  he 
began  to  look  upon  some  more  equal  distribution  of  the 
produce  of  labour  as  a  practicability  of  the  remote  future, 
and  to  dwell  upon  the  prospect  of  such  changes  in  human 
character  as  might  render  a  stable  society  possible  without 
the  institution  of  private  property.  This  he  has  called  his 
third  stage  as  a  political  economist,  and  he  says  that  he 
was  helped  towards  it  by  the  lady,  Mrs  Taylor,  who  became 
his  wife  in  1851,  and  with  whom  he  had  lived  in  intimate 
friendship  for  more  than  twenty  years  before.  It  is 
generally  supposed  that  he  writes  with  a  lover's  extrava- 
gance about  this  lady's  powers  when  he  compares  her  with 
Shelley  and  Carlyle.  But  a  little  reflexion  will  show  that 
he  wrote  with  his  usual  accuracy  and  sobriety  wlien  he 
described  her  influence  on  him.  He  expressly  says  that 
he  owed  none  of  his  technical  doctrine  to  her,  that  she 
influenced  only  his  ideals  of  life  for  the  individual  and  for 
society ;  and  his  language  about  her  is  really  only  a 
measure  of  the  importance  that  he  attached  to  such  ideals 
above  any  systems  of  reasoned  truth.  There  is  very  little 
propositional  difference  between  Mill  and  his  father ;  but 
it  is  obvious  from  what  ho  says  that  his  inner  life  became 
very  different  after  he  threw  off  his  father's  authority. 
This  new  inner  life  was  strengthened  and  enlarged  by  Mrs 
Taylor.  Wc  must  remember  also  that  Mill  in  his  early 
years  had  been  so  strictly  secluded  from  commonplace 
sentiment  that  what  the  general  world  would  consider 
commonplace  must  have  come  to  him  with  all  the  freshness 
of  a  special  revelation. 

During  the  seven  years  of  his  married  life  Mill  published 
lean  than  'a  ouy  other  period  of  his  career,  but  four  of  his 


MILL 


313 


most  closely  reasoned  and  characteristic  works,  the  Liberti/, 
the  Utilitarianism,  the  Thonr/hts  on  Parliamentary  Reform, 
and  the  Subjection  (f  Women,  besides  his  posthumously 
published  essays  on  Nature  and  on  the  Utility  of  Religion, 
were  thought  out  and  partly  written  in  collaboration  with 
his  wife.  In  1856  he  became  head  of  the  examiner's 
office  in  the  India  House,  and  for  two  years,  till  the 
dissolution  of  the  Company  in  1858,  his  official  work, 
never  a  light  task,  kept  him  fully  occupied.  It  fell  to 
him  as  head  of  the  office  to  write  the  defence  of  the 
Company's  government  of  India  when  the  transfer  of  its 
powers  was  proposed.  Mill  was  earnestly  opposed  to  the 
transfer,  and  the  documents  in  which  he  substantiated  the 
proud  boast  for  the  Company  that  "  few  governments  even 
under  far  more  favourable  circumstances  have  attempted 
so  much  for  the  good  of  their  subjects  or  carried  so  many 
of  their  attempts  to  a  beneficial  issue,"  and  exposed  the 
defects  of  the  proposed  new  government,  are  models  of 
trenchant  and  dignified  pleading.  His  prediction  that  the 
Indian  Secretary's  council  would  serve  as  a  screen  and 
not  as  a  check  was  in  the  opinion  of  many  amply  verified 
a  few  years  ago. 

On  the  dissolution  ef  the  Company,  Mill  was  offered  a 
seat  in  the  new  council,  but  declined.  His  retirement 
from  official  work  was  followed  almost  immediately  by  his 
vrife's  death,  and  from  this  calamity  he  sought  relief  in 
active  literary  occupation.  Politics,  sociology,  and  psycho- 
logy divided  as  before  the  energies  of  his  active  mind. 
One  of  his  first  cares  was  to  publish  with  a  touching 
dedication  to  his  wife  the  treatise  on  Liberty,  which  they 
had  wrought  out  together,  principle  by  principle  and 
sentence  by  sentence.  This  pious  duty  discharged,  he 
turned  to  current  politics,  and  published,  in  view  of  the 
impending  Reform  Bill,  a  pamphlet  on  parliamentary 
reform.  The  chief  feature  in  this  was  an  idea  concerning 
which  he  and  Mrs  Mill  often  deliberated,  the  necessity 
of  providing  checks  against  uneducated  democracy.  His 
fanciful  suggestion  of  a  plurality  of  votes,  proportioned  to 
the  elector's  degree  of  education,  was  avowedly  put  forward 
only  as  an  ideal ;  he  admitted  that  no  authentic  test  of 
education  could  for  the  present  be  found.  An  anonymous 
Conservative  caught  at  the  scheme  in  another  pamphlet, 
proposing  income  as  a  test.  Soon  after.  Mill  supported 
in  Eraser's,  still  with  the  same  object,  Jlr  Hare's  scheme 
for  the  representation  of  minorities.  In  the  autumn  .of 
the  same  year  he  turned  to  psychology,  reviewing  Mr 
Bain's  works  in  the  Edinburgh  Review. 

In  this  way  the  indefatigable  thinker  worxed  on,  throw- 
ing himself  by  turns  into  the  various  lines  along  which  he 
saw  prospects  of  fulfilling  his  mission  as  an  apostle  of  pro- 
gress. In  his  Representative  Government  (1860)  he  systema- 
tized opinions  already  put  forward  in  many  casual  articles 
and  essays.  His  Utilitarianism  (published  in  Eraser's  in 
1861)  was  a  closely  reasoned  systematic  attempt  to  answer 
objections  to  his  ethical  theory  and  remove  misconceptions 
of  it.  As  the  inventor  of  the  term  Utilitarianism,  he  was 
entitled  to  define  its  meaning ;  and  he  was  especially 
anxious  to  make  it  clear  that  he  included  in  utility  the 
pleasures  of  the  imagination  and  the  gratification  of  the 
higher  emotions,  and  to  show  how  powerfully  the  good  of 
mankind  as  a  motive  appealed  to  the  imagination.  His 
treatise  on  the  Subjection  of  Women,  in  its  ruling  intention 
a  protest  against  the  abuse  of  power,  was  Mill's  next  work, 
though  it  was  not  published  till  18G9.  His  Examination 
of  Hamilton's  P/ii!osop/iy,  published  in  1865,  had  engaged 
a  large  share  of  his  time  for  three  years  before.  When  it 
irst  occurred  to  him  that  a  criticism  of  the  chief  of  our 
native  intuitional  psychologists  would  cause  a  wholesome 
stir  and  serve  enlightenment,  he  thought  only  of  an  article 
BUth  as  he  \vrote  about  Austin's  Jurisprudence  or  Grote's 

16—13* 


Plato.  But  he  soon  found  that  the  subject  required  a  book, 
and  a  book  appeared  which  certainly  answered  the  purpose 
of  rousing  the  sleepy  realms  of  philosophy  and  theology. 

AVhile  mainly  occupied  in  those  years  with  philosophical 
studies.  Mill  did  not  remit  his  interest  in  current  politics. 
He  made  his  voice  heard  on  the  contest  in  America  in 
1862,  taking  the  side  of  the  North — then  very  unpopular 
in  London — and  using  all  his  strength  to  explain  what  has 
since  been  universally  recognized  as  the  issue  really  at 
stake  in  the  struggle,  the  abolition  of  slavery.  It  waa 
characteristic  of  the  closeness  with  which  he  watched 
current  events,  and  of  his  zeal  in  the  cause  of  "  lucidity," 
that,  when  the  Reader,  an  organ  of  science  and  unpartisar. 
opinion,  fell  into  difficulties  in  ISO'S,  Mill  joined  with  some 
distinguished  men  of  science  auf*  letters  in  an  effort  to  keep 
it  afloat.  He  supplied  part  of  the  money  for  carrying  it 
on,  contributed  several  articles,  and  assisted  the  editor, 
Mr  Fraser  Rae,  with  his  advice.  The  effort  was  vain, 
though  such  men  as  Herbert  Spencer,  Huxley,  TyndaU, 
Cairnes,  Mark  Pattison,  F.  Harrison,  Sir  Frederick  Pollock, 
and  Lockyer  were  among  the  contributors. 

In  1865  a  new  channel  was  opened  to  his  influence. 
He  was  requested  to  stand  for  "Westminster,  and  agreed 
on  conditions  strictly  in  accordance  with  his  principles  of 
parliamentafy  election.  He  would  not  canvass,  nor  pay 
agents  to  canvass  for  him,  nor  would  he  engage  to  attend 
to  the  local  business  of  the  constituency.  He  was  with, 
difficulty  persuaded  even  to  address  a  meeting  of  the 
electors.  The  story  of  this  remarkable  election  has  been 
told  by  Mr  James  Beal,  one  of  the  most  active  supporters 
of  Mill's  candidature.  In  parliament  he  adhered  to  his 
lifelong  principle  of  doing  only  work  that  needed  to  bs 
done,  and  that  nobody  else  seemed  equally  able  or  willing 
to  do.  It  may  have  been  a  consciousness  of  this  fact 
which  prompted  a  remark  made  by  the  Speaker  that  Mill's 
presence  in  parliament  elevated  the  tone  of  debate.  Ths 
impression  made  by  him  in  parliament  is  in  some  danger 
of  being  forgotten,  because  he  was  not  instrumental  in 
carrying  any  great  measure  that  might  serve  as  an  abiding 
memorial.  But,  although  in  one  of  his  first  speeches 
against  the  suspension  of  the  Habeas  Corpus  Act  in  Ireland 
he  was  very  unfavourably  received.  Mill  thoroughly 
succeeded  in  what  is  called  "  gaining  the  ear  of  the  House." 
The  only  speech  made  by  him  during  his  three  years  in 
parliament  that  was  listened  to  with  impatience  was, 
curiously  enough,  his  speech  in  favour  of  counteracting 
democracy  by  providing  for  the  representation  of  minorities. 
His  attack  on  the  conduct  of  General  Eyre  in  Jamaica 
was  listened  to,  but  with  repugnance  by  the  majority, 
although  his  action  in  this  matter  in  and  out  of  parliament 
was  far  from  being  ineffectual.  He  took  an  active  part  in 
the  debates  on  Jilr  Disraeli's  Reform  Bill,  and  helped  to 
extort  from  the  Government  several  useful  modifications 
of  the  Bill  for  the  Prevention  of  Corrupt  Practices.  The 
reform  of  land  tenure  in  Ireland,  the  representation  of 
women,  the  reduction  of  the  national  debt,  the  reform  of 
London  government,  the  abrogation  of  the  declaration  of 
Paris,  were  among  the  topics  on  which  he  spoke  with 
marked  effect.  He  took  occasion  more  than  once  to 
enforce  what  he  had  often  advocated  in  writing,  England's 
duty  to  intervene  in  Continental  politics  in  support  of  the 
cause  of  freedom.  As  a  speaker  Mill  was  somewhat 
hesitating,  pausing  occasionally  as  if  to  recover  the  thread 
of  his  argument,  but  he  showed  great  readiness  in  extem- 
poraneous debate.  Viewed  as  a  candidate  for  ministerial 
office,  he  might  be  regarded  as  a  failure  in  parliament,  but 
there  can  be  no  doubt  that  his  career  there  greatly  extended 
his  influence. 

Mill's  subscription  to  the  election  expenses  of  Mr 
Bradlaugh,  and  his  attitude  towards  Governor  Eyre,  are 


:u 


M  I  L  — M  I  L 


f,3nerally  regarded  as  the  main  causes  of  his  defeat  in  the 
general  election  of  1868.  But,  as  he  suggests  himself,  his 
studied  advocacy  of  unfamiliar  projects  of  reform  had  made 
him  unpopular  with  "  moderate  Liberals."  WTien  he  was 
first  elected  on  a  sudden  impulse  of  enthusiasm,  extremely 
little  was  known  about  him  by  the  bulk  of  the  electorate; 
and  his  writing  about  checks  against  democracy  had  pre- 
pared many  for  a  more  conservative  attitude  on  questions 
of  practical  politics.  He  retired  with  a  sense  of  relief  to 
his  cottage  and  his  literary  life  at  Avignon.  His  parlia- 
mentary duties  and  the  quantity  of  correspondence  brought 
upon  him  by  increased  publicity  had  absorbed  nearly  the 
whole  of  his  time.  The  scanty  leisure  of  his  first  recess 
had  been  devoted  to  writing  his  St  Andrews  rectorial 
address  on  higher  education  and  to  answering  attacks  on 
his  criticism  of  Hamilton  ;  of  the  second,  to  annotating,  in 
conjunction  with  Mr  Bain  and  Mr  Findlater,  his  father's 
Analysis  of  the  Mind.  But  now  he  could  look  forward  to 
a  literary  life  pure  and  simple,  and  his  letters  show  how 
much  he  enjoyed  the  change.  His  little  cottage  was  filled 
■with  books  and  newspapers ;  the  beautiful  country  round 
it  furnished  him  with  a  variety  of  walks ;  he  read,  wrote, 
discussed,  walked,  botanized.  His  step-daughter,  Miss 
Taylor,  his  constant  companion  after  his  wife's  death, 
"architect  and  master-mason  all  in  one,"  carried  out 
various  improvements  in  their  quiet  home  for  the  philo- 
sopher's comfort.  "Helen,"  he  wrote  to  Mr  Thornton, 
"  has  carried  out  her  long-cherished  scheme  (about  which 
she  tells  me  she  consulted  you)  of  a  '  vibratory '  for  me, 
and  has  made  a  pleasant  covered  walk,  some  30  feet  long, 
where  I  can  vibrate  in  cold  or  rainy  weather.  The 
terrace,  you  must  know,  as  it  goes  round  two  sides  of  the 
house,  has  got  itself  dubbed  the  '  semi-circumgyratory.' 
In  addition  to  this  Helen  ha-s  built  me  a  herbarium,  a 
little  room  fitted  up  with  closets  for  my  plants,  shelves 
for  my  botanical  books,  and  a  great  table  whereon  to 
manipulate  them  all.  Thu.5,  you  see,  with  my  herbarium, 
my  vibratory,  and  my  semi-circumgyratory,  I  am  in  clover ; 
and  you  may  imagine  with  what  scorn  I  think  of  the 
House  of  Commons,  which,  comfortable  club  as  it  is 
said  to  be,  could  offer  me  none  of  these  comforts,  or,  more 
perfectly  speaking,  these  necessaries  of  life;"  Mill  was  an 
enthusiastic  botanist  all  his  life  long,  and  a  frequent  con- 
tributor of  notes  and  short  papers  to  the  Phytologist.  One 
of  the  things  that  he  looked  forward  to  during  his  last 
journey  to  Avignon  was  seeing  the  spring  flowers  and 
completing  a  flora  of  the  locality.  His  delight  in  scenery 
frequently  appears  in  letters  written  to  '^•s  friends  during 
his  summer  and  autumn  tours. 

No  recluse  ever  had  a  more  soothing  retreat  than  Mill  s 
Avignon  cottage,  but  to  the  last  he  did  not  relax  his 
laborious  habits  nor  his  ardent  outlook  on  human  affairs. 
The  essays  in  the  fourth  volume  of  his  Dissertaiioiis — on 
endowments,  on  laud,  on  labour,  on  metaphysical  and 
psychological  questions — were  written  for  the  Fortnightly 
Jieiriiiw  at  intervals  after  his  short  parliamentary  career. 
One  of  his  first  tasks  was  to  seud  his  treatise  on  the 
Subjection  of  Women  through  the  press.  The  essay  on 
Theism  was  written  soon  after.  The  last  public  work  in 
which  he  engaged  was  the  starting  of  the  Land  Tenure 
Beforra  Association.  The  interception  by  the  state  of  the 
unearned  increment,  and  the  promotion  of  co-operative 
agriculture,  were  the  most  striking  features  in  his  pro- 
graram^e.  He  wrote  in  the  /Examiner  and  made  a  public 
speech  in  favour  of  the  association  a  few  months  before 
lus  death.  The  secret  of  the  ardour  with  which  he  took 
up  this  question  probably  was  his  conviction  that  a  great 
struggle  was  impending  in  Europe  between  labour  and 
capital     He  regarded  his  pn-jcrt  as  a  timely  coiuprouiisu. 

ilill  died  at  Avignon  on  the  bth  of  May  1873. 


Witliin  the  limits  of  this  nrticle  it  is  impossible  to  attempt  t 
criticism  of  Mill's  conclujiioiis  ia  so  many  ff&lds  of  research^  one 
must  be  content  with  trying  to  indicate  the  purpose  and  the  spirit 
of  his  work.  Perhaps  we  still  stand  too  near  to  judge  without  biaa; 
some  years  hence  men  will  be  better  able-  to  say  whether  he  made 
sciolism  less  reckless  or  brought  mankind  appreciably  nearer  that 
dominion  of  the  wisest  which  was  the  remote  goal  of  hie  endeavour. 
It  will  be  long  before  humanity  finds  a  nobler  example  of  the 
searcher  after  the  best  means  of  social  improvement.  He  sought 
after  clear  iJeris  with  the  ardour  of  a  mystic,  the  patience  and 
laborious  industry  of  a  man  of  science;  he  encountered  opponents 
with  a  generosity  and  a  coHrtesy  worthy  of  &uy  prntx  chevalicT  of 
mediiEval  romance,  while  he  was  not  inferior  to  that  ideal  in  the 
vigour  of  his  blows  against  injustice.  As  regards  his  influence,  it 
has  been  well  said  that  "no  calculus  can  integrate  the  innumerablu 
pulses  of  knowledge  and  of  thought  that  he  has  made  to  vibrato  in 
the  minds  of  his  generation."  He  quickened  thought  upon  every 
problem  that  he  toucJied.  Any  estimate  of  Mill's  service  to  political 
or  philosophical  thought  at  this  moment  ia  liable  to  be  injuri- 
ously affected  by  the  temporary  discredit  into  which  some  of  his  doc- 
trines have  fallen.  He  was  not  infallible;  he  made  no'claim  to  dog- 
matic authority.  But  in  criticism  of  detail,  according  to  our  present 
light,  we  may  easily  blind  ourselves  to  the  greatness  of  the  work 
thai  Mill  accomplished  in  the  development  of  opinion.    (W.  M.) 

MILLAU,  or  Milhau,  capital  of  an  arrondissement  in 
the  department  of  Ave}Ton,  France,  is  situated  on  the  left 
bank  of  the  Tarn,  half  a  mile  below  the  point  at  which 
that  river  is  joined  by  the  Dourbie,  and  48  miles  to  the 
south-east  of  Rodez,  on  the  Rodez  and  MontpeUier  'line. 
Itself  1210  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea,  it  is  overlooked 
by  hills  covered  with  vineyards  and  fruit  trees  or  by  bare  and 
scarped  rocks.  The  streets  of  ilillau  are  narrow,  and  some 
of  the  houses  of  great  antiqtiity,  but  the  town  is  surrounded 
by  spacious  boulevards.  On  two  sides  the  Place  d'Armes 
is  adorned  by  stone  columns  supporting  galleries  of  wood; 
the  only  buildings  of  special  interest  are  the  Romanesque 
church  of  Notre  Dame,  and  the  belfry  of  the  old  h6tel  de 
vUle.  The  principal  industry  is  ths  maii"*'"^ture  of  gloves, 
but  various  branches  of  the  leather  manufacture  are  also 
carried  on.  The  chief  articles  of  commerce  are  wool  (both 
raw  and  prepared),  Roquefort  cheese,  wine,  almonds,  and 
live  stock.     The  population  in  1881  was  16,628. 

The  viscounts  of  Millau  are  mentioned  as  early  as  the  10th 
century;  in  the  16th  it  became  one  of  the  leading  strongholds  of 
the  Reformed  party  in  the  south  of  France.  Ita  industry  suQ'ered 
severely  by  the  revocation  of  the  edict  of  Nantes. 

JIILLENNIUM.  In  the  history  of  Christianity  three 
main  forces  are  found  to  have  acted  as  auxiliaries  of  the 
gospel.  They  have  elicited  the  ardent  enthusiasm  of  many 
whom  the  bare  preaching  of  the  gospel  would  never  have 
made  decided  converts.  These  are  (1)  a  belief  in  the 
speedy  return  of  Christ  and  in  His  glorious  reign  on  earth; 
(2)  mystical  contemplation,  which  regards  heavenly  bless- 
ings as  a  possible  possession  in  the  present  life;  and  (3) 
faith  in  a  divine  predestination  of  some  to  salvation  and 
others  to  perdition.  Each  of  these  forces  has  at  particular 
times  proved  too  strong  for  church  authority  and  burst  the 
embankments  with  which  the  chiu-ch  had  at  once  narrowed 
and  protected  Christian  life  and  thought.  They  have  pro- 
duced ecclesiastical,  social,  and  political  con'snilsions,  where 
the  elemental  force  of  religious  conviction  has  destroyed 
all  organization,  whether  of  church  or  of  state.  They  have 
released  from  its  fetters  the  free  spirit  of  Christianity, 
though  often  enough  they  have  associated  with  it  a 
fanaticism  more  damaging  to  the  gosoel  than  the  temporiz- 
ing ))olicy  of  the  hierarcliy 

First  in  point  of  time  came  the  faith  in  the  nearness  of 
Christ's  second  advent  and  the  establishing  of  His  reign  of 
glory  on  the  earth.  Indeed  it  appears  so  early  that  it 
might  be  questioned  whether  it  ought  not  to  bo  regarded 
as  an  essential  part  of  the  Christian  religion.  That 
question,  however,  will  scarcely  be  answered  in  the  affirma- 
tive. The  ideas  of  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  or  the 
pregnant  thoughts  of  the  Pauline  theology,  are  inde[)endent 
of  the  expectation  that  the  kingdom  of  glory  will  shortly 


MILLENNIUM 


315 


be  established.  On  the  other  hand,  it  must  be  admitted 
that  this  expectation  was  a  prominent  feature  in  the  earliest 
proclamation  of  the  gospel,  and  luaterially  contributed  to 
its  success.  If  the  primitive  churches  had  been  under  the 
necessity  of  framing  a  "Confession  of  Faith,"  it  would 
certainly  have  embraced  those  pictures  by  means  of  which 
the  near  future  was  distinctly  realized.  But  then  these 
pictures  and  dreams  and  hopes  were  just  the  things  that 
made  systematized  doctrine  impossible ;  it  is  possible^  to 
formulate  the  mythological  ideas,  but  not  the  shifting 
imagery  of  the  imngination. 

In  the  anticipations  of  the  future  prevalent  amongst  the 
early  Christians  (c.  50-150)  it  is  necessary  to  distinguish 
a  fixed  and  a  fluctuating  element.  The  former  includes 
(1)  the  notion  that  a  last  terrible  battle  with  the  enemies 
of  God  was  impending;  (2)  the  faith  in  the  speedy  return 
of  Christ ;  (3)  the  conviction  that  Christ  will  judge  all 
men,  and  (4)  will  set  up  a  kingdom  of  glory  on  earth. 
To  the  latter  belong  views  of  the  Antichrist,  of  the  heathen 
world-power,  of  the  place,  extent,  and  duration  of  the 
earthly  kingdom  of  Christ,  &c.  These  remained  in  a  state 
of  solution ;  they  were  modified  from  day  to  day,  partly 
because  of  the  changing  circumstances  of  the  present  by 
which  forecasts  of  the  future  were  regulated,  partly  because 
the  indications — real  or  supposed — of  the  ancient  prophets 
always  admitted  of  new  combinations  and  constructions. 
But  even  here  certain  positions  were  agreed  on  in  large 
sections  of  Christendom.  Amongst  these  was  the  expecta- 
tion that  the  future  kingdom  of  Christ  on  earth  should 
have  a  fixed  duration, — according  to  the  most  prevalent 
opinion,  a  duration  of  one  thousand  years.  From  this  fact 
the  whole  ancient  Christian  eschatology  was  known  in 
later  times  as  "chiliasm," — a  name  which  is  not  strictly 
accurate,  since  the  doctrine  of  the  millennium  was  only  one 
feature  in  its  scheme  of  the  future. 

1.  This  idea  that  the  Messianic  kingdom  of  the  future 
on  earth  should  have  a  definite  duration  has — like  the 
whole  eschatology  of  the  primitive  church — its  roots  in  the 
^e^-ish  apocalyptic  literature,  where  it  appears  at  a  com- 
paratively late  period.  At  first  it  was  assumed  that  the 
Messianic  kingdom  in  Palestine  would  last  for  ever  (so  the 
prophets ;  cf.  Jerem.  xxiv.  6 ;  Ezek.  xxxvii.  25 ;  Joel  iv. 
20 ;  Daniel  vi.  27  ;  Sibyll.  iii.  49  sy.,  766 ;  Psalt.  Salom. 
xvii.  4;  Enoch  Ixii.  14),  and  this  seems  always  to  have 
been  the  most  widely  accepted  view  (John  xii.  34).  But 
from  a  comparison  of  prophetic  passages  of  the  Old  Testa- 
ment learned  apocalyptic  writers  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  a  distinction  must  be  drawn  between  the  earthly 
appearance  of  the  Messiah  and  the  appearance  of  God 
Himself  amongst  His  people  and  in  the  Gentile  world  for 
the  final  judgment.  As  a  necessary  consequence,  a  limited 
period  had  to  be  assigned  to  the  Messianic  kingdom.  It 
is  not  altogether  improbable  that  the  mysterious  references 
to  the  sufferings  of  the  Messiah  had  also  an  influence  on 
some  minds.  This,  however,  is  doubtful.  It  is  certain  at 
all  events  that  the  whole  conception  marks  the  beginning 
of  the  dissolution  of  realistic  and  sensuous  views  of  the 
future.  The  age  was  too  advanced  to  regard  the  earthly 
Messianic  kingdom  as  the  end.  There  was  an  effort  to 
find  a  place  among  the  hopes  of  the  futiu-e  for  those  more 
spiritual  and  universal  anticipations,  according  to  which 
eternal  and  heavenly  blessedness  will  be  the  portion  of  the 
faithfxJ,  this  earth  and  heaven  will  pass  away,  and  God 
will  be  all  in  all.  As  to  the  period  to  be  assigned  to  this 
earthly  kingdom,  no  agreement  was  ever  reached  in 
Judaism,  any  more  than  in  the  detailed  descriptions  of  its 
J9y8  and  pleasures.  According  to  the  Apocalyjise  of  Baruch 
(xl.  3)  this  kingdom  will  last  "donee  finiatur  mundus 
.'ATnjptionis."  In  the  Book  of  Enoch  (xci.  12)  "a  week" 
is  specified,  iu  the  Apocalypse  of  Ezra  (vii.  28  sq.)  four 


hundred  years.  This  figure,  corresponding  to  the  four 
hundred  years  of  Egyjjtian  bondage,  occurs  also  in  the 
Talmud  (Sanhedrin  99<t).  But  this  is  the  only  passage; 
the  Talmud  has  no  fixed  doctrine  on  the  point.  The 
view  most  frequently  expressed  there  (see  Von  Otto  in 
HilgenfehVs  Zdlschrift,  1877,  p.  527  «<?.)  is  that  tho 
Messianic  kingdom  will  last  for  one  thousand  (some  !.aid 
two  thousand)  years.  "  In  six  days  God  created  the 
world,  on  the  seventh  He  rested.  But  a  day  oi  God  is 
equal  to  a  thousand  years  (Ps.  xc.  4).  Henco  the  world 
will  last  for  six  thousand  years  of  toil  and  labour ;  then 
will  come  one  thousand  years  of  Sabbath  rest  for  the  iieople 
of  God  in  the  kingdom  of  the  Messiah."  This  idea  must 
have  already  been  very  common  in  the  first  century  before 
Christ.  The  combination  of  Gen.  i.,  Dan.  ix.,  and  Ps.  xc. 
4  was  peculiarly  fascinating. 

2.  Jesus  Himself  speaks  of  only  one  return  of  the  Son 
of  Man — His  return  to  judgment.  In  speaking  of  it,  and 
of  the  glorious  kingdom  He  is  to  introduce,  He  makes  use 
of  apocalyptic  images  (Matt.  viii.  11,  xxvi.  29  ;  Luke  xxii. 
16;  Matt.  xix.  28);  but  nowhere  in  the  discourses  of 
Jesus  is  there  a  hint  of  a  limited  duration  of  the  ilessianic 
kingdom.  The  apostolic  epistles  are  equally  free  from 
any  trace  of  chiliasm  (neither  1  Cor.  xv.  23  sq.  nor  1  Thess. 
iv.  16  sq.  points  in  tliis  direction).  In  the  Apooxlypse  of 
John,  however,  it  occurs  in  tlie  following  shape  (chap.  xx.). 
After  Christ  has  appeared  from  heaven  in  the  guise  of  a 
warrior,  and  vanqiiished  the  antichristian  world-power, 
the  wisdom  of  the  world,  and  the  devil,  those  who  have 
remained  steadfast  in  the  time  of  the  last  catastrophe,  and 
have  given  up  their  lives  for  their  faith,  shall  be  raised  un 
and  shall  reign  with  Christ  on  tliis  earth  as  a  royal  priest- 
hood for  one  thousand  years.  At  the  end  of  this  time  Satan 
is  to  be  let  loose  again  for  a  short  season  ;  he  will  prepare 
a  new  onslaught,  but  God  will  miraculously  destroy  him 
and  his  hosts.  Then  will  follow  the  general  resurrection 
of  the  dead,  the  last  judgment,  and  the  creation  of  new 
heavens  and  a  new  earth.  That  all  believers  will  have  a 
share  in  the  first  resurrection  and  in  the  ilessianic 
kingdom  is  an  idea  of  which  John  knows  nothing.  The 
earthly  kingdom  of  Christ  is  reserved  for  those  who  have 
endured  the  most  terrible  tribulation,  who  have  withstood 
the  supreme  effort  of  the  world-power, — that  is,  for  those 
who  are  actually  members  of  the  church  of  the  last  days. 
The  Jewish  expectation  is  thus  considerably  curtailed  in 
the  hands  of  John,  as  it  is  also  shorn  of  its  sensual 
attractions.  "  Blessed  and  holy  is  he  that  hath  part  in  the 
first  resurrection  ;  on  such  the  second  death  hath  no  power; 
but  they  shall  be  priests  of  God  and  of  Christ,  and  shall 
reign  with  Him  a  thousand  years."  More  than  this  John 
does  not  say.  But  other  ancient  Christian  authors  were 
not  so  cautious.  Accepting  the  Jewish  apocalypses  as 
sacred  books  of  venerable  antiquity,  they  read  them  eagerly, 
and  transferred  their  contents  bodily  to  Christianity.  Nay 
more,  the  Gentile  Christians  took  possession  of  them, 
and  just  iu  proportion  as  they  were  neglected  by  the 
Jews — who,  after  the  war  of  Bar-Cochba,  became  indifi'er- 
ent  to  the  Messianic  hope  and  hardened  themselves  once 
more  in  devotion  to  the  law — they  were  naturalized  in  the 
Christian  communities.  The  result  was  that  these  books 
became  "  Christian  "  documents  ;  it  is  entirely  to  Christian, 
not  to  Je-wish,  tradition  that  we  owe  their  preservation. 
The  Jewish  expectations  are  adopted,  for  example,  by 
Papias,  by  the  writer  of  the  epistle  of  Barnabas,  and  by 
Justin.  Papias  actually  confounds  expressions  of  Jesus 
with  verses  from  the  Apocalypse  of  Baruch,  referring  to 
the  amazing  fertility  of  the  days  of  the  Jlessianic  kingdom 
(Papias  in  Iren.  v.  33).  Barnabas  {Ep.,  15)  give-s  us  the 
Jewish  theory  (from  Gen.  i.  and  Ps.  xc.  4)  tliat  the 
present  condition  of  the  world  is  to  last  six  thousand  yeam 


316 


MILLENNIUM 


from  the  creation,  that  at  the  beginning  of  the  Sabbath 
^'the  seventh  millennium)  the  Son  of  God  appears,  to  put 
in  end  to  the  time  of  "the  unjust  one,"  to  judge  the  ungodly 
ind  renew  the  earth.  But  he  does  not  indulge,  like  Papias, 
in  sensuous  descriptions  of  this  seventh  millennium;  to 
Barnabas  it  is  a  time>  of  rest,  of  sinlessness,  and  of  a  holy 
peace.  It  is  not  the  end,  however;  it  is  followed  by  an 
eighth  day  of  eternal  duration, — "the  beginning  of  another 
world."  So  that  in  the  view  of  Barnabas  the  Messianic 
reign  still  belongs  to  oStos  o  aluiv.  Justin  (Dial.,  80) 
speaks  of  chiliasm  as  a  necessary  part  of  complete 
orthodoxy,  although  he  knows  Christians  who  do  not 
accept  it.  He  believes,  with  the  Jews,  in  a  restoration 
and  extension  of  the  city  of  Jerusalem;  ha  assumes  that 
this  city  will  be  the  seat  of  the  Messianic  kingdom,  and 
he_  takes  it  as  a  matter  of  course  that  there  all  believers 
(here  he  is  at  one  with  Barnabas)  along  with  patriarchs 
and  prophets  will  enjoy  perfect  felicity  for  one  thousand 
years.  In  fact  he  reads  this  view  into  tlie  Apocalypse  of 
John,  which  he  understands  to  mean  that  before  the 
general  resurrection  all  believers  are  to  rule  for  a  time 
(vith  Christ  on  earth.  That  a  philosopher  like  Justin, 
with  a  bias  towards  an  Hellenic  construction  of  the  Christian 
religion,  should  nevertheless  have  accepted  its  chiliastio 
elements  is  the  strongest  proof  that  these  enthusiastic 
expectations  were  inseparably  bound  up  with  the  Christian 
I'aith  down  to  the  middle  of  the  2d  century.  And  another 
proof  is  found  in  the  fact  that  even  a  speculative  Jewish 
Christian  like  Ccrinthus  not  only  did  not  renounce  the 
chiliastic  hope,  but  pictured  the  future  kingdom  of  Christ 
as  a  kingdom  of  sensual  pleasures,  of  eating  and  drinking 
and  marriage  festivities  (Euseb.,  //.  E.,  iii.  28,  vii.  25). 

3.  After  the  middle  of  the  2d  century  these  ex- 
pectations were  gradually  thrust  into  the  background. 
They  would  never  have  died  out,  however,  had  not 
circumstances  altered,  and  a  new  mental  attitude  been 
taken  up.  The  spirit  of  philosophical  and  theological 
speculation  and  of  ethical  reflexion,  which  began  to  spread 
through  the  churches,  did  not  know  what  to  make  of  the 
old  hopes  of  the  future.  To  a  new  generation  they  seemed 
paltry,  earthly,  and  fantastic,  and  far-seeing  men  had  good 
reason  to  regard  them  as  a  source  of  political  danger.  But 
more  than  this,  these  wild  dreams  about  the  glorious  king- 
«(oin  of  Christ  began  to  disturb  the  organization  which  the 
churches  had  seen  fit  to  introduce.  In  the  interests  of 
self-preservation  against  the  world,  the  state,  and  the 
heretics,  the  Christian  communities  had  formed  themselves 
into  compact  societies  with  a  definite  creed  and  constitu- 
tion, and  they  felt  that  their  existence  was  threatened  by 
the  white  heat  of  religious  subjectivity.  So  early  as  the 
year  170,  a  church  party  in  Asia  Minor — the  so-called 
yVlogi — rejected  the  whole  body  of  apocalyptic  writings 
and  denounced  the  Apocalypse  of  John  as  a  book  of  fables. 
All  the  more  powerful  was  the  reaction.  In  the  so-called 
Montanistic  controversy  (c.  160-220)  one  of  the  principal 
issues  involved  was  the  continuance  of  the  chiliastic 
expectations  in  the  churches.  The  Montanists  of  Asia 
Minor  defended  them  in  their  integrity,  with  one  slight 
modification :  they  announced  that  Pepuza,  the  city  of 
Jlontanus,  would  be  the  site  of  the  New  Jerusalem  and 
the  millennial  kingdom.  Modifications  of -this  kind, 
which  have  often  apjiearcd  in  later  times  in  connexion 
with  the  revival  of  millcnnarianism,  are  a  striking  evidence 
of  the  tendency  of  every  sect  to  regard  its  owni  little 
membership  as  the  centre  of  the  world  and  its  fortunes  as 
the  kernel  of  universal  history.  After  the  Montanistic 
controver.sy,  chiliastio  •  views  were  more  and  more 
discredited  in  the  Greek  Church ;  they  were,  in  fact, 
stigmatized  as  "Jewish"  and  consequently  "heretical." 
It  waa  the  Alexandrian  tlieologj-  that  superseded  them; 


that  is  to  say,  Neo-Platonio  mysticism  triumphed  over 
the  early  Christian  hope  of  the  future,  first  among  the 
"  cultured,"  and  then,  when  the  theology  of  tlie  "  cultured  " 
had  taken  the  faith  of  the  "  uncultured  "  under  its  protec- 
tion, amongst  the  latter  also.  About  the  year  2C0  an 
Egyptian  bishop,  Nepos,  in  a_  treatise  called  t\ry;^os 
dW-qyvp'TTuiv,  endeavoured  to  overthrow  the  Origenistic 
theology  and  vindicate  chiliasm  by  exegetical  methods. 
Several  congregations  took  his  part ;  but  ultimately 
Dionysius,  bishop  of  Alexandria,  succeeded  in  healing 
the  schism  and  asserting  the  allegorical  interpretation  of 
the  prophets  as  the  only  legitimate  exegesis.  During  this 
controversy  Dionysius  became  convinced  that  the  victory 
of  mystical  theology  over  "  Jewish  "  chiliasm  would  never 
be  secure  so  long  as  the  Apocalypse  of  John  passed  for 
an  apostolic  writing  and  kept  its  place  among  the 
homologoumena  of  the  canon.  He  accordingly  raised  the 
question  of  the  apostolic  origin  of  the  Apocal}'pse;  and  by 
reviving  old  difficulties,  with  ingenious  argumenta  of  his 
own,  he  carried  his  point.  At  the  time  of  Eusebius  the 
Greek.  Church  was  .saturated  ■(vith  prejudice  against  the 
book  and  with  doubts  as  to  its  canouicity.  In  the  course 
of  the  4th  century  it  was  removed  from  the  Greek 
canon,  and  thus  the  troublesome  foundation  on  which 
chiliasm  might  have  continued  to  build  was  got  rid  of. 
The  attempts  of  Jlethodius  of  Tyre  at  the  beginning  of 
the  4th  centurj-  and  Apolhnarius  of  Laodicea  about 
360  to  defend  chiliasm  and  assail  the  theology  of  Origen 
had  no  result.  For  many  centuries  the  Greek  Church  kept 
the  Johannine  Apocalypse  out  of  its  canon,  and  consequently 
chiliasm  remained  in  its  grave.  It  was  considered  a 
sufhcicnt  safeguard  against  the  spirituaHzing  cschatology 
of  Origen  and  his  school  to  have  rescued  the  main  doctrines 
of  the  creed  and  the  regula  fidei  (the  visible  advent  of 
Christ ;  eternal  misery  and  hell-fire  for  the  wicked). 
Anything  beyond  this  was  held  to  be  Jewish.  It  was 
only  the  chronologists  and  historians  of  the  church  who, 
foUo\ving  Juhus  Africanus,  made  use  of  apocalyi^tic 
numbers  in  their  calculations,  while  court  theologians  like 
Eusebius  entertained  the  imperial  table  with  discussions  as 
to  whether  the  dining-hall  of  the  emperor — the  second 
David  and  Solomon,  the  beloved  of  God — might  not  be  the 
Kew  Jerusalem  of  John's  Apocalj-pse.  Eusebius  was  not 
the  first  who  dabbled  in  such  speculations.  Dionysius  of 
Alexandria  had  already  referred  a  Messianic  prediction  of 
the  Old  Testament  to  the  emperor  Gallienus.  But 
mysticism  and  political  serviUty  between  them  gave  the 
death-blow  to  chiUasm  in  the  Greek  Church.  It  never 
again  obtained  a  footing  there ;  for,  although,  late  in  the 
Middle  Ages,  the  Book  of  Revelation — by  what  means  we 
cannot  tell — did  recover  its  authority,  the  church  was  by 
that  time  so  hopelessly  trammelled  by  a  magical  cultus  as 
to  be  incapable  of  fresh  developments.  Li  the  Semitic 
churches  of  the  East  (the  SjTian,  Arabian,  and  .■Ethiopian), 
and  in  that  of  Armenia,  the  apocal}q)tic  literature  was 
preserved  much  longer  than  in  the  Greek  Church.  They 
were  very  conservative  of  ancient  traditions  in  general,  and 
hence  chiUasm  survived  amongst  them  to  a  later  date  than 
in  Alexandria  or  Constantinople.  It  is  to  these  churches 
that  we  are  mainly  indebted  for  the  extensive  remains  of 
the  old  apocalyptic  literature  which  we  now  possess.  From 
remote  cloisters  of  the  East  Europe  has  recovered  within 
the  last  forty  years  many  works  of  this  kind  which  once 
enjoyed  the  highest  repute  throughout  Christendom. 

i.  But  the  AVcstern  Church  was  also  more  conservative 
than  the  Greek.  Her  theologians  had,  to  begin  with,  little 
turn  for  mystical  speculation ;  their  tendency  was  rather 
to  reduce  the  gospel  to  a  system  of  morals.  Now  for 
the  moralists  chiliasm  had  a  special  significance  as  the  one 
distinguishing  feature  of  the  gospel,  and  the  only  thing 


MILLENNIUM 


317 


that  gave  a  specifically  Cliristian  cliaracter  to  their  system. 
This,  however,  holds  good  o£  the  "Western  theologians  only 
after  the  middle  of  the  3d  century.  The  earlier  fathers, 
Irenaeus,  Hippolytus,  TertuUian,  hoUeved  in  chihasm 
simply  because  it  was  a  part  of  the  tradition  of  the  church 
and  becau.se  Marcion  and  the  Gnostics  would  have  nothing 
to  do  with  it.  Irenxus  (v.  2S,  29)  has  the  same  conception 
of  the  millennial  kingdom  as  PKarnabas  and  Papias,  and 
appeals  in  support  of  it  to  the  testimony  of  disciples  of  the 
apostles.  Hippolytus,  although  an  opponent  of  Montanism, 
was  nevertheless  a  thorough-going  millennarian  (see  his 
book  De  Aidichristo).  Tertulhan  {cf.  especially  Adv. 
Marcion.,  3)  aimed  at  a  more  spiritual  conception  of  the 
millennial  blessings  than  Papias  had,  but  he  still  adhered, 
especially  in  his  Montanistic  period,  to  all  the  ancient 
anticipations.  It  is  the  same  all  through  the  3d  and  4th 
centuries  with  those  Latin  theologians  who  escaped  the 
influence  of  Greek  speculation.  Commodian,  Victorinus 
Pettavensis,  Lactantius,  and  Sulpicius  Severus  were  all 
pronounced  miUennarians,  hokUng  by  the  .very  details  of 
the  primitive  Christian  expectations.  They  still  beheve, 
as  John  did,  in  the  return  of  Nero  as  the  Antichrist ;  they 
still  expect  that  after  the  first  resurrection  Christ  will  reign 
with  His  saints  "  in  the  flesh  "  for  a  thousand  years.  Once, 
but  only  once  (in  the  CJpspel  of  Nicodemus),  the  time  is 
reduced  to  five  hundred  years.  Victorinus  wrote  a 
commentary  on  the  Apocalypse  of  John ;  and  all  these 
theologians,  especially  Lactantius,  were  diligent  students 
of  the  ancient  Sibylline  oracles  of  Jewish  and  Christian 
origin,  and  treated  them  as  divine  revelations.  As  to  the 
canonicity .  and  apostohc  authorship  of  the  Johannine 
Apocalypse  no  doubts  were  ever  entertained  in  the  West ; 
indeed  an  Apocalypse  of  Peter  was  still  retained  in  the 
canon  in  the  3d  century.  That  of  Ezra,  in  its  Latin 
translation,  must  have  been  all  but  a  canonical  book, — 
the  numbers  of  extant  manuscripts  of  the  so-called  4  Ezra 
being  incredibly  great,  while  several  of  them  are  found 
in  copies  of  the  Latin  Bible  at  the  beginning  of  the  16th 
century.  The  Apocalypse  of  Hermas  was  much  read  till 
far  through  the  Middle  Ages,  and  has  also  kept  its  place 
in  some  Bibles.  The  apocalyptic  "  Testamenta  duodecim 
Patriarcharum  "  was  a  favourite  reading-book ;  and  Latin 
versions  of  ancient  apocaljijses  are  being  continually 
brought  to  light  from  Western  libraries  {e.g.,  the  Assumpiio 
Mosis,  the  Ascetisio  Jesajee,  ifcc).  All  these  facts  show 
how  \-igorously  the  early  hopes  of  the  future  maintained 
themselves  in  the  West.  In  the  hands  of  moralistic  theo- 
logians, like  Lactantius,  they  certainly  assume  a  somewhat 
grotesque  form,  but  the  fact  that  these  men  clung  to  them 
is  the  clearest  evidence  that  in  the  West  millennarianism 
was  still  a  point  of  "  orthodo.xy  "  in  the  4th  century. 

This  state  of  matters,  however,  gradually  disappeared 
after  the  end  of  the  4th  century.  The  change  was  brought 
about  by  two  causes, — first,  Greek  theology,  which  reached 
the  West  chiefly  through  Jerome,  Rufinus,  and  Ambrose, 
and,  second,  the  new  idea  of  the  church  wrought  out  by 
Augustine  on  the  basis  of  the  altered  political  situation  of 
the  church.  Jerome,  the  pupil  of  the  Greeks,  feels  him- 
self already  emancipated  from  "opiniones  Judaicas";  he 
ridicules  the  old  anticipations ;  and,  though  he  does  not 
venture  to  reject  them,  he  and  the  other  disciples  of  the 
Greeks  did  a  great  deal  to  rob  them  of  their  vitality.  At 
the  same  time  the  influence  of  Greek  theology  was  by  no 
means  so  great  in  the  West  that  this  of  itself  could  have 
suppressed  chiliastic  views.  It  was  reserved  for  Augustine 
to  give  a  direction  to  Western  theology  which  carried  it 
•  clear  of  millennarianism.  He  himself  had  at  one  time 
believed  in  it ;  he  too  had  looked  forward  to  the  holy 
Sabbath  which  was  to  be  celebrated  by  Christ  and  His 
people  on  earth.     But  the  signs  of  the  times  pointed  to  a 


different  prospect.  Without  any  miraculous  interposition 
of  God,  not  only  was  Christianity  victorious  on  earth,  but 
the  church  had  attained  a  position  of  supremacy.  The 
old  Roman  empire  was  tottering  to  its  fall;  the  church 
stood  fast,  ready  to  step  into  its  inheritance.  It  was  not 
simply  that  the  world-power,  the  enemy  of  Christ,  had 
been  vanquished ;  the  fact  was  that  it  had  gradually 
abdicated  its  political  functions  in  favour  of  the  church. 
Under  these  circumstances  Augustine  was  led,  in  hi.s  con- 
troversy with  the  Donatists  and  as  an  apologist,  to  idealize 
the  poUtical  side  of  the  catholic  church, — to  grasp  and 
elaborate  the  idea  that  the  church  is  the  kingdom  of  Chrisi 
and  the  city  of  God.  Others  before  him  may  have  taken 
the  same  view,  and  he  on  the  other  hand  never  forgot  that 
true  blessedness  belongs  to  the  future ;  but  still  he  was  the 
first  who  ventured  to  teach'  that  the  catholic  church,  in  its 
empirical  form,  was  the  kingdom  of  Christ,  that  the 
millennial  kingdom  had  com.menced  with  the  appearing  of 
Christ,  and  was  therefore  an  accomplished  fact.  By  this 
doctrine  of  Augustine's,  the  old  millennarianism,  though  not 
completely  e.Ttirpated,  was  at  least  banished  from  the  realm 
of  dogmatic.  For  the  oSicial  theology  of  the  church  it 
very  soon  became  a  thing  of  the  past ;  certain  elements  of 
it  were  even  branded  as  heretical.  It  still  hved  on,  how- 
ever, in  the  lower  strata  of  Christian  society ;  and  in 
certain  undercurrents  of  tradition  it  was  transmitted  from 
century  to  century.  At  various  periods  in  the  history  of 
the  Middle  Ages  we  encounter  sudden  outbreaks  of 
miUennarianism,  sometimes  as  the  tenet  of  a  small  sect, 
sometimes  as  a  ifar-reaching  movement.  And,  since  it  had 
been  suppressed,  not,  as  in  the  East,  by  mystical  specula- 
tion, its  mightiest  antagonist,  but  by  the  pcUtical  church 
of  the  hierarchy,  we  find  that  wherever  chiLiasm  appears 
in  the  Middle  Ages  it  makes  common  cause  with  all 
enemies  of  the  secularized  church.  It  strengthened  the 
hands  of  church  democracy ;  it  formed  an  alHance  mth 
the  pure  souls  who  held  up  to  the  church  the  ideal  of 
apostolic  poverty ;  it  tuiited  itself  for  a  time  even  with 
mysticism  in  a  common  opposition  to  the  supremacy  of  the 
church ;  nay,  it  lent  the  strength  of  its  convictions  to  the 
support  of  states  and  princes  in  their  efforts  to  break  the 
political  power  of  the  church.  It  is  sufficient  to  recall  the 
well-known  names  of  Joachim  of  Floris,  of  all  the  numerous 
Franciscan  spiritualists,  of  the  leading  sectaries  from  the 
13th  to  the  15th  century  who  assailed  the  papacy  and 
the  secularism  of  the  church, — above  all,  the  name  of 
Occam.  In  these  men  the  millennarianism  of  the  ancient 
church  came  to  life  again  ;  and  in  the  revolutionary  move- 
ments of  the  15th  and  16th  centuries — especially  in  the 
Anabaptist  movements — it  appears  with  all  its  old  uncom- 
promising energy.  If  the  church,  and  not  the  state,  was 
regarded  as  Babylon,  and  the  pope  declared  to  be  the 
Antichrist,  these  were  legitimate  inferences  from  the 
ancient  traditions  and  the  actual  position  of  the  church. 
But,  of  course,  the  new  chihasm  was  not  in  every  respect 
identical  with  the  old.  It  could  not  hold  its  ground 
without  admitting  certain  innovations.  The  "  everlasting 
gospel "  of  Joachim  of  Floris  was  a  different  thing  from 
the  announcement  of  Chiist's  glorious  return  in  the  clouds 
of  heaven ;  the  "  age  of  the  spirit "  which  mystics  and 
spirituahsts  expected  contained  traits  which  must  be 
characterized  as  "  modern  "  ;  and  the  "  kingdom  "  of  the 
Anabaptists  in  Munster  was  a  Satanic  caricature  of  that 
kingdom  m  which  the  Christians  of  the  2d  century  looked 
for  a  peaceful  Sabbath  rest.  Only  we  must  not  form  om- 
ideas  of  the  great  apocalyptic  and  chihastic  movement  of 
the  first  decades  of  the  16th  century  from  the  rabble  in 
Miinster.  There  were  pure  evangelical  forces  at  work  in 
it ;  and  many  Anabaptists  need  not  shun  comparison  with 
.  the  Christians  of  the  apostolic  and  postrapostolic  ages. 


318 


M  T  L  —  ]\I  I  L 


/riic  German  and  Swiss  Reforrners  also  believed  that  the 
end  of  tlic  world  was  near,  but  they  had  different  aims  in 
view  from  those  of  the  Anabaptists.  It  was  not  from 
poverty  and  apocalypticism  that  they  hoped  for  a  reforma- 
tion of  the  church.  In  contrast  to  the  fanatics,  after  a 
brief  hesitation  they  threw  miUennarianism  overboard, 
and  along  with  it  all  other  "opiniones  Judaica;."  They 
took  up  the  same  ground  in  this  respect  which  the 
Roman  Catholic  Church  had  occupied  since  the  time  of 
Augustine.  How  miUennarianism  nevertheless  found  it:i 
way,  with  the  help  of  apocalyptic  mysticism  and  Anabaptist 
influences,  into  the  chiu-ches  of  the  Reformation,  chiefly 
among  the  Reformed  sects,  but  afterwards  also  in  the 
Lutheran  Church,  how  it  became  incorporated  with 
Pictissn,  how  in  recent  times  an  exceedingly  mild  tyjie  of 
"  academic  "  chiUasm  has  been  developed  from  a  belief  in 
the  verbal  inspiration  of  the  Bible,  how  finally  new  sects 
are  still  springing  up  here  and  there  with  apocalyptic  and 
chiliastic  expectations, — these  are  matters  which  cannot  be 
fully  entered  upon  here.  But  one  remark  ought  to  be 
made  in  conclusion.  A  genuine  and  Living  revival  of 
chiliastic  hopes  is  always  a  sign  that  the  church  at  large 
has  become  secularized  to  such  a  degree  that  tender 
consciences  can  no  longer  feel  sure  of  their  faith  within 
her.  In  this  sense  all  chiliastic  phenomena  in  the  history 
of  the  church  demand  respectful  attention.  But  when 
attempts  are  made  to  find  room  for  miliennariani.sm  in  a 
dogmatic  system,  it  must  always  assume  a  form  in  which 
it  would  be  utterly  unrecognizable  to  the  millennarians 
of  the  ancient  church,  who,  just  because  they  were 
millennarians,  despised  dogmatic,  in  the  sense  of  philo- 
sophical theology.  The  claims  of  chiliasm  are  sufficiently 
met  by  the  acknowledgmeut  that  in  former  times  it  was 
associated — to  all  appearance  inseparably  associated — 
with  the  gospel  itself.  Those  who  try  to  remodel  it, 
so  as  to  conserve  its  "  elements  of  truth,"  put  contempt 
on  it  while  they  destroy  it;  for  it  was  in  its  day  the 
most  uncompromising  enemy  of  all  remodelling,  and  it 
'can  only  exist  along  with  the  tinsophisticated  faith  of  the 
early  Christians. 

Cf.  Srhiiror,  Lchrbiirh iter  Kcuiestatiuntlichcn  ZcUt/cschicliU,  187J, 
§§  2S,  29  ;  Corroili,  Krilhclic  Gcschkhic  iles  aiiliasmus,  1781.  A 
thoiongli  history  of  diiliasDi  lias  not  yet  appeared.  (A,  HA.) 

^  MILLER,  Hugh  (1802-1856),  eminent  in  science  and 
literature,  and  one  of  the  most  remarkable  among  self- 
taught  men  of  genius,  was  born  at  Cromarty,  on  the  north- 
east coast  of  Scotland,  on  the  10th  of  October  1S02.  His 
father,  a  sagacious  and  strong-willed  seaman,  who  earned  a 
livelihood  by  sailing  his  own  sloop,  perished  at  sea  when 
Hugh  was  five  years  old.  His  mother  looked  much,  iu 
the  upbringing  of  her  son,  to  her  two  brothers,  James  and 
Alexander  Wright,  the  one  a  saddler,  the  other  a  carpenter. 
Scrupulous  integrity,  sincere  religion,  unflagging  industry, 
and  resolute  contentment  were  the  lessons  which  these 
men,  not  so  much  by  precept  as  by  example,  impressed 
upon  the  boy.  But  young  Miller  had  inherited  from  his 
father  a  strong  individuality  and  obstinate  force  of  will, 
and  began  at  a  very  early  age  to  take  a  line  of  his  own. 
The  enchantment  of  open  air  and  freedom^the  irresistible 
charm  of  mother  nature  on  the  hill  and  by  the  sea — made 
him  at  thirteen  an  incorrigible  truant;  and  his  schoolmaster 
thought  it  likely  that  he  would  prove  a  dunce.  Neverthe- 
less the  truant  schoolboy  was  already  giving  indications  of 
the  destination  of  the  man.  At  an  ago  too  early  to  date 
he  had  found  iu  his  pen  a  divining  rod  that  led  him  to 
waters  of  inexhaustible  delight.  His  mother  summed  up, 
in  the  singular  dialect  of  the  district,  the  impression  derived 
from  her  son's  boyhood  and  youth  in  the  words,  "he  was 
aye  vritin."  But  the  writing  from  the  first,  and  increasingly 
as  time  went  on,  could  be  discriminated  from  the  ordinary 


productions  of  boyhood.  A  continuity  of  idea,  an  ind»- 
finable  grace  and  freshness,  marked  his  performances. 
They  were  never  bombastic  or  verbose.  At  no  period  of 
his  life  did  he  suffer  from  a  flux  of  words.  But,  boy  and 
man,  he  bad  a  felicitous  knack  of  fitting  words  into  their 
right  places  and  avoiding  jerkiness  and  inequality.  In 
verse  he  lacked  the  passionate  intensity  required  for  true 
rhythmic  movement,  but  he  had  a  fine  sense  of  cadence 
and  modulation  in  prose 

It  is  a  curious  fact  that  what  determined  Hugh  Miller 
to  apprentice  himself  to  a  stone-mason  was  his  delight 
in  literary  composition.  LTnemployed  during  the  winter 
frosts,  the  mason,  ho  perceived,  could  enjoy  for  some 
months  every  year  the  ecstacy  of  writing.  One  result  of 
his  decision  was  that  he  never  learned  any  language  but 
English.  Another  was  that  fifteen  years  of  the  quarry  and 
the  hewing-shed,  with  stern  experiences  of  over-work  and 
privation,  sowed  in  his  frame  the  seeds  of  incurable  disease. 
Meanwhile  the  advantages  of  his  decision  were  indisputable. 
Under  the  discipline  of  labour  the  refractory  schoolboy 
became  a  thoughtful,  sober-minded  man.  Miller  always 
looked  back  to  his  years  of  hand-labour  with  a  satisfaction 
tha^  has  something  in  it  of  solemnity  and  pathos.  "  Noble, 
upright,  self-relying  tod,"  he  exclaims  ;  "  who  that  knows 
thy  solid  worth  and  value  would  be  ashamed  of  thy  hard 
hands,  and  thy  soQed  vestments,  and  thy  obscure  tasks, — 
thy  huuible  cottage,  and  hard  couch,  and  homely  fare !" 

It  cannot  be  added  that  his  fifteen  years  of  close  and 
constant  intercourse  with  fellow-workmen  inspired  him  with 
much  respect  for  their  class.  He  was  most  unfortunate 
in  his  comrades  during  the  two  seasons,  1824  and  1825, 
when  he  worked  at  Niddrie  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
Edinburgh.  Swinish  in  their  enjoyments,  meanly  selfish 
in  their  class  ambitions,  and  fatuously  subject  to  talking 
charlatans,  that  Niddrie  squad  of  reprobates  which  he  de- 
scribes in  J/y  Schools  and  Schoobnaslers  stamped  on  the 
mind  of  Hugh  Miller  an  indelible  conviction  of  the  inca- 
pacity and  degradation  of  the  hand-workers. 

Returning  to  Cromarty,  he  worked  in  happy  patience  „« 
a  stone-cutter  year  after  year,  sedulously  prosecuting  at 
the  same  time  the  grand  object  of  his  ambition,  to  write 
good  English.  He  found  time  to  invigorate  and  enrich  his 
mind  by  careful  reading,  and  was  habitually  and  keenly 
observant  both  of  man  and  of  nature.  His  reading  was 
not  extensive  but  well  chosen,  and  embraced  Locke  and 
Hume ;  Goldsmith  and  Addison  were,  more  than  any 
others,  his  masters  in  style.  It  was  to  get  time  to  ^n■ite  that 
he  had  become  a  stone-mason ;  another  of  the  surprises  of 
his  career  is  that  it  was  in  advertising  himself  as  a  mason 
that  he  came  before  the  world  as  a  literary  man,  A  stone- 
mason, figiiring  as  a  poetical  contributor  to  the  Inverness 
Courier,  might,  he  thought,  be  asked  by  some  of  the 
readers  to  engrave  inscriptions  on  tombs.  He  therefore 
forwarded  some  of  his  verses  to  the  editor.  These  seem 
to  have  been  consigned  to  the  waste-paper  basket,  which 
had  been  the  fate  of  an  "  Ode  on  Greece  "  offered  to  the 
Scotsman  when  he  was  at  Edinbuigh.  Piqued  by  his 
second  failure,  he  now  resolved,  at  all  hazards,  to  see  him- 
self in  print.  In  1829  appeared  the  small  volume  contain- 
ing Poems  TTritlen  in  the  Leisure  Hours  of  a  Journei/man 
-Uasoii.  It  procuied  its  author  the  valuable  friendship  of 
Mr  Robert  Carruthers,  and  was  favourably  noticed  by  the 
press.  Miller  looked  at  his  poems  in  print,  and  concluded, 
at  once  and  irreversibly,  that  he  woiUd  not  succeed  as  a 
poet.  It  was  a  characteristic  and  very  manly  decision, 
proving  that  there  was  no  fretting  vanity  in  his  disposition. 
Doubtless  also  it  was  right.  His  field  was  prose.  But, 
though  his  poems  yielded  nothing  in  the  way  of  fortune, 
they  were  a  beginning  of  fame.  The  simple  natives  o( 
Cromarty  began  to  think  him  a  wonder.     Some  very  elo> 


MILLER 


319 


qnent  lettere  on  the  herring  fishery  extended  his  reputation. 
Good  judges  in  Edinburgh  detected  in  his  work  the  mint- 
mark  of  genius,  and  Miller's  first  prose  volume,  Scenes  and 
Legends  of  Cromarty,  was  published  there  in  1835.  In  the 
interval  he  had  become  the  accepted  lover  of  Miss  Lydia 
Fraser,  a  young  lady  of  great  personal  attractions,  rare  in- 
tellectual gifts,  and  glowing  sympathy  with  all  that  was 
good  and  brave  and  bright.  Her  affection  naturally 
Bteadied  him  in  hi',  resolution  to  emerge  from  the  hand- 
working  class;  the  mallet  and  chisel  gradually  dropped 
from  his  grasp ;  and  when  his  prose  venture  appeared  he 
was  being  initiated,  in  Linlithgow,  into  the  duties  of  a 
bank  clerk.  '  On  his  return  to  Cromarty  he  found  employ- 
ment in  the  local  branch  of  the  Commercial  Bank.    '"_ 

He  was  a  married  man,  and  his  tent  seemed  stably  fi[xed 
at  Cromarty,  when  the  agitation  that  preceded  the  Disrup- 
tion of  18 is  made  the  air  of  Scotland  vibrate.  Miller 
loved  his  church,  and  deliberately  esteemed  her  the  most 
valuable  institution  possessed  by  the  Scottish  people. 
Fervently  as  he  had  sympathized  with  those  who  procured 
political  representation  for  Scotland  by  the  Eeform  Bill,  he 
still  more  fervently  took  part  with  those  who  claimed  that 
Scottish  congregations  should  have  no  pastors  thrust  upon 
them.  In  the  summer  of  1839  he  wrote  his  famous 
pamphlet-letter  to  Lord  Brougham ;  Dr  Candlish  read  it 
\rith  "nothing  short  of  rapture";  and  the  first  days  of 
1840  saw  Miller  installed  in  the  editorial  chair  of  the  Witness 
newspaper,  published  twice  a  week  in  Edinburgh  to  advo- 
cate the  cause  of  non-intrusion  and  spiritual  independence. 
He  continued  to  edit  the  Witness  till  his  death,  which  took 
place  in  the  night  between  the  23d  and  24th  of  December 
1856.  Unremitting  brain  work  had  overtaxed  a  system 
permanently  injured  by  the  hardships  of  his  early  mason 
life;  reason  at  length  gave  way,  and  lliller  died  by  a  pistol 
bhot  fired  by  his  own  hand.  A  post-mortem  examination, 
attested  by  four  medical  men  of  the  highest  character, 
evinced  the  presence  of  "diseased  appearances"  in  the 
biain ;  and  he  left  a  few  words  indicating  the  form  taken 
by  the  insane  delusion  which  had  mastered  him. 

During  the  three  years  preceding  the  Disruption, 'cham- 
pionship of  the  church  by  Miller  did  more,  probably,  than 
any  other  single  agency  to  win  for  it  the  suffrage  of  the 
Scottish  people.  Months  before  the  day  of  separation, 
the  name  "  Free  Church "  was  prospectively  assigned  to 
the  party  proposing  to  sever  connexion  with  the  state ; 
and,  whether  Hugh  Miller  suggested  the  name  or  did  not, 
he-  was  one  of  the  chief  architects  of  the  institution.  Nor 
has  the  sequel  shown  that  his  labour  was  vain. 

But  long  ere  now  an  enthusiasm  parallel  in  intensity 
Kfith  that  which  he  felt  for  his  country  and  his  church, 
and  to  which  even  his  old  literary  enthusiasm  had  become 
subservient,  had  taken  possession  of  him.  From  infancy 
he  had  been  a  keenly  interested  observer  of  all  natural 
facts  and  objects,  and  during  his  career  as  apprentice  ar-^ 
journeyman  mason  he  had  accumulated  a  vast  store  of  th. 
particular  information  belonging  to  the  geologist.  But  it 
•was  not  until  later  that  he  expressly  undertook  the  study 
pf  geology.  We  still  find  him,  when  twenty-seven,  laying 
down  charts  of  study  and  production  without  a  word  about 
science.  When,  however,  he  had  convinced  himself  that 
his  road  to  the  stars  was  not  by  poetry,  and  when  the 
limited  success  of  his  prose  tales  and  literary  essays  in  the 
volume  on  Cromarty  suggested  a  profound  misgiving  as 
to  the  adequacy  of  his  purely  literary  materials  to  produce 
an  important  resvdt,  he  bethought  him  of  his  hoard  of 
ecientific  knowledge,  and  addressed  himself  with  the  con- 
centrated energy  of  mature  manhood  to  geological  reading 
and  geological  researches.  These,  in  fact,  were  not  new 
t3  him,  and  he  was  much  impressed  by  the  interest  excited 
among  scientific  readers  by  a  geological- chanter  in  the 


Scenes  a,nd  Legends,  /HiS  chief  master  was  Lyell,  whom 
he  reverenced  henceforward  as  one  of  the  greatest  of  living 
men.  The  principal  scene  of  his  own  investigations  was 
the  Cromarty  district,  where  he  ransacked  every  wrinkle 
of  the  hill-side,  and  traced  every  stratum  sawn  through  by 
the  watercourse,  and  where,  on  the  beach  at  ebb,  in  indurated 
clay  of  bluish  tint  and  great  tenacity,  belonging  to  the 
Old  Red  Sandstone  formation,  he  discovered  and  dug  out 
nodules  which,  when  laid  open  by  a  skilful  blow  of  the 
hammer,  displayed  certain  organisms  that  had  never  been 
seen  by  a  human  eye.  He  had  entered  upon  correspondence 
with  Murchison  and  Agassiz ;  and  "fellows  of  the  Geological 
Society  and  professors  of  colleges"  had  been  brought  by  his 
descriptions  "  to  explore  the  rocks  of  Cromarty."  Along 
with  the  patriotic  and  religious  enthusiasm,  therefore,  that 
burned  within  him  when  he  went  to  champion  his  church 
in  Edinburgh,  there  glowed,  in  the  depths  of  his  heart, 
not  indeed  a  stronger  but  a  more  gentle  and  perhaps  a 
dearer  enthusiasm  for  that  science  in  which,  he  felt  per- 
suaded, he  had  something  of  his  own  to  say,  something  to 
which  the  world  of  culture  would  be  glad  to  listen.  So 
early  as  September  1840  there  began  tp  appear  in  the 
Witness  a  series  of  articles  entitled  "  The  Old  Red  Sand- 
stone." They  attracted  immediate  and  eager  attention ; 
and  the*  month  was  not  at  an  end  when,  at  the  meeting  of 
the  British  Association,  Murchison  brought  them  under 
the  notice  of  the  geological  section,  presided  over  by  LyelL 
Agassiz,  already  familiar  from  Miller's  correspondence 
lyith  the  organisms  described,  contributed  information 
respecting  them,  and  proposed  that  one  of  the  most 
remarkable  of  the  fossils  should  be  called  PterUhthys 
Milleri.  Buckland  joined  warmly  in  the  encomiums  of 
Murchison  and  Agassiz,  vowing  that  "  he  would  give  his 
left  hand  to  possess  such  powers  of  description  as  this 
man."  The  articles  which  met  with  so  enthusiastic  a 
reception  from  the  most  eminent  geologists  in  Europe 
formed  the  nucleus  of  a  book  soon  after  published,  and 
entitled  The  Old  Red  Sandstone.  It  established  MiUer's 
reputation  not  only  as  an  original  geologist  but  as  a 
practical  thinker  of  great  sagacity,  and  as  a  lucid  and 
fascinating  writer.  He  had  at  last  fairly  found  his  hand ; 
it  is  impossible  to  turn  from  the  Scenes  and  Legends  to  the 
new  volume  without  feeling  that  the  spirit  of  the  author 
has  become  more  exultant,  his, touch  at  once  stronger  and 
more  free. 

During  his  seventeen  years  of  residence  in  Edinburgh  he  pablished 
a  variety  of  books,  all  of  them  more  or  less  geological,  but  claiming 
attention  not  on  account  of  their  geology  alone.  His  First  Impra- 
sions  of  England  and  its  People,  the  fruit  of  eight  weeks'  wandering 
arranged  in  the  leisure  hours  of  a  hard-worked  editor,  will  be  best 
appreciated  when  we  contrast  its  grace  and  gentleneas,  the  classic 
jnoderation  of  its  tone,  the  quiet  vivacity  and  freshness  of  its 
observation,  ;.h«  sense  and  sentiment  and  justice  of  its  criticism, 
with  the  smartness  of  the  ordinary  newspaper  correspondent,  or  the 
vulgarity  and  the  impudent  omniscience  of  the  conventional  book 
pf  travels.  Apart  from  lis  masterly  descriptions,  partly  geological 
I  artly  scenic,  and  that  prose  poem  on  the  ubiquity  of  the  ocean 
which,  though  brief,  will  compare  not  unfavourably  with  select 
pages  from  Wilson  or  from  Kuskin,  its  two  passages  on  'Westminster 
Abbey  and  Stratford-on-Avon  would  alone  suffice  to  prove  that 
the  Cromarty  stone-mason  was  n  man  of  extraordinary  genius. 
Of  his  autobiographical  volume,  My  Schools  and  Schoolmasfcrs,  do 
opinion  but  one  has  ever  been  expressed.  It  ranks  among  the 
finest  masterpieces  of  its  kind  in  the  English  language. 

As  a  geologist  his  reputation  is  securely  based  upon  his  aotual 
discovery  of  important  fossil  organisms,  one  of  which  bears  hia 
name,  and  on  his  contributions,  thoroughly  serviceable  at  the  time 
they  were  made,  to  our  knowledge  of  the  formation  in  which 
those  organisms  occur.  His  eye-to-eye  acquaintance  with  nature  is 
attested  on  every  page ;  and,  if  his  enthusiasm  does  not  often  rise 
into  spray  and  surge  of  rapture,  it  is  a  deep  ground-swell  per- 
ceptible in  all  he  wrote.-  His  powers  of  observation  were  singularly 
strong  and  accurate,  and  were  accompanied  with  the  most  carcf';! 
reflexion  and  a  fine  rich  glow  of  imaginative  vision.  His  discen;- 
ment  of.  the  true  position  of  the  ventral  plate  of  FtericMhys,  whca 


S20 


M  I  L  —  M  I  L 


tt^- 


the  best  iclitliyologista  unanimously  insisted  on  its  being  dorsal, 
affords  one  of  tbe  nicest  illustrations  to  be  found  of  an  obser- 
vational faculty  whicb  reasons  as  wells  as  sees. 

Ho  was  also,  in  his  principal  geological  books,  TIte  FooUtcps  of 
the  Creator  and  Tlie  TeManonij  of  the  Kocks,  a  polemical  defender  of 
tlieiani  and  of  revelation  against  some  whom  lie  regarded  as  their 
dendly  assailants.  It  would  have  been  safe  and  pleasant  for  Miller 
to  waive  all  consideration  of  the  religious  question.  He  would  thus 
have  escaped  the  dreaded  sneer  of  the  scientific  expert.  He  would 
have  escaped,  also,  the  cold  suspicion  of  many  on  his  own  side  ; 
for  the  groat  mass  of  mediocre  religionists  like  nothing  so  well  as  the 
"ing  of  difficulties  and  hushing  up  of  objections.  Uut 
instinctively  from  the  moral  cowardice  of  reserve.  The 
advance  of  science  has  tended  to  compromise  some  of  his  controvelsial 
positions.  When  he  occupied  the  cJiairof  the  Itoyal  Thy sical  Society 
of  ICdiuburgh  in  1S52,  ne  could  look  the  most  eminent  repre- 
sentatives of  contemporary  geology  in  the  face,  and  claim  their 
assent  to  the  possibility  of  drawing  dehnito  lines  of  demarcation 
between  the  Tertiary,  Secondary,  and  PaWozoic  strata.  Ho  could 
sneak  of  "  the  entire  typo  of  organic  being"  as  altering  between 
tlicso  i»rio<l9.  "All  ou  the  one  side  of  the  gan,"  lie  could  dare  to 
affirm,  "  belongs  to  one  fashiou,  and  all  on  the  other  to  another 
and  ulioUy  tiilh-rent  fosliion."  In  the  thirty  intervening  years 
Bvery  form  of  tlie  cataclysmal  scheme  of  geological  progression  has 
been  lUscrodited.  It  has  become  impo<isible  to  obtain  anythiug  like 
o  i»/is.'Hji(s  of  opinion  among  scientific  men  as  to  the  placing  of 
those  frontier  lines  between  [xrio^l  and  pericKl  which,  however  wide 
may  be  the  margins  of  giaJ.ition  assigned  to  "morning"  and 
"evening,"  are  iutli-ipenaablc  to  the  maintenance  of  iliUer's  theory 
of  the  six-days'  vision  of  creation.  "Geographical  provinces  and 
zones,"  says  Professor  Huxley,  "may  have  been  as  distinctly 
marked  iu  tbe  Paheozoic  eixx:h  as  at  present,  and  those  seemingly 
sudden  appearances  of  new  genera  and  species  which  we  ascribe 
tj  new  creation  may  bo  simple  results  of  migration."  Such  is  now 
the  received  opinion  of  geologists,  and  we  may  be  sure  that  Sliller, 
who  never  shut  his  eyes  to  au  established  fact,  would  have  accepted 
it.  Ho  has  said  iu  so  many  words  that  the  Bible  docs  not  teach 
science. 

In  the  long  flud  memorable  debate  on  the  origin  of  species  he 
strenuously  engaged,  maintaining,  against  the  author  of  the  Vestiges, 
tlie  doctrine  of  specific  creation.  But  when  he  did  so  he  could 
ieel  that  Buckland,  Sedgwick,  Jlurchisou,  and  Lyell  were  ou  his 
side;  nor  is  it  a  paradox  to  allege  that  he  was  an  ally  of  Darwin 
himself.  If  the  author  of  the  Fcs/ir^w  was  right,  Darwin  was  wrong- 
Ill  jjoiut  of  fact,  the  former  was  very  nearly  right ;  but,  precisely 
because  Darwiu  supplies  what  is  lacking  in  his  argument,  those  who 
intelligently  asseut  to  tbe  Origin  of  SjKcics  are  bound  not  to  assent 
to  the  Vestiges. 

But  it  is  chiefly  perhaps  in  connexion  with  the  sweetness  and 
classical  auiiuation  of  his  style,  and  the  lovely  views  he  gives  of 
nature's  facts,  that  we  ought  to  praise  Hugh  ililler.  In  an  age 
prodigal  of  genius,  yet  abounding  also  in  extravagance,  glare,  and 
()ombast,  tho  self-educated  stone-mason  wrote  with  the  calmness 
and  moderation  of  Addison.  His  powerful  imagination  was  dis- 
eiidined  to  draw  just  those  lines,  and  to  lay  on  just  those  colours, 
which  should  reanimate  tho  ]iast.  As  his  friend  Carruthers,  all 
admirable  critic  of  style,  observed,  "the  fossil  remains  seem,  iu 
his  glowing  jviges,  to  live  and  llourisli,  to  fly,  swim,  or  gambol, 
or  to  shoot  uji  in  vegetative  profusion  and  splendour,  as  in  the 
iirinial  dnwn  of  creation.  Such  power  belongs  to  high  genius." 
Tens  of  tlioufauds  he  has  incited  to  the  study  of  nature  ;  tens  of 
thonsandt  he  has  taught  to  find  iu  geology  no  mere  catalogue  of 
defunct  organisms,  no  dreary  sermon  in  fossil  stones,  but  a  "science 
of  landscape"  as  well  as  au  intelligent  undeistandiug  of  the  rocky 
framework  of  the  world. 

In  1S71  nppenred    The  Life  and  Utiert  of  I7ti^h  ifitler,  by  Peter  Bayno 


(2roI».,  Loni 


ippeo 


edition  of  twcoty  volu 


circulated  on  the  Hiiropoun  continent, 

Tlicy  have  buon  Issued  In  the  United  Stalci 

nprUlng  tlie  Life  and  Letters.  (P.  B.) 


MILLER,  ■William  (17S1-1849),  the  founder  of  an 
American  religious  sect  holding  peculiar  millennarian  view.s, 
■was  born  at  Pittsfield,  Massachusetts,  in  1781.  He  received 
1  very  imperfect  education.  In  the  war  of  1812  he  served 
ns  cajitain  of  volunteers  on  the  Canadian  frontier.  While 
residing  at  Low  Hampton,  N.Y.,  he  began  in  1833  publicly 
to  lecture  on  the  subject  of  the  millennium,  asserting  that 
the  second  coming  of  Christ  would  take  place  in  about 
ten  years.  Hia  doctrines  awakened  wide  interest  among 
certain  classes  of  the  community.  In  1810  a  semi-monthly 
journal,  7'he  Signs  of  (he  'Times,  was  started  by  one  of  his 
followers,  and  two  years  later  the  Acheiut  Herald  made  its 
.appearance.  About  18-13  the  second  coming  of  Christ  was 
expected  by  as  many  as  50,000  believers  in  the  doctrines  of 


Miller ;  and,  although  the  disappointment  of  their  hope* 
somewhat  diminished  their  numbers,  many  continued  their 
adherence  to  his  tenets  regariiing  the  nature  of  the  niillen- 
niura.  At  present  tho  nunil>er  of  Millerites  or  Adventists  is 
estimated  at  from  15,000  to  20,000.  Miller  died  at  New 
Hampton,  Washington  county,  N.Y,,  December  20,  1849. 

JIILLER,  William  (170C-1882),  one  of  the  greatest 
of  modern  line-engravers,  was  born  in  Edinburgh  on  the 
28th  of  May  1796.  After  studying  in  London  under 
George  Cook,  a  pupil  of  Easire's,  he  returned  to  his 
native  city,  where  he  continued  to  practise  his  art  during 
a  long  lifetime.  He  executed  plates  after  Thomson  of 
Duddingston,  MaccuUoch,  D.  O.  Hill,  Sir  George  Harvey, 
and  other  Scotti.sh  landscapists,  but  his  most  admirable 
and  most  vohtminous  works  were  his  transcripts  from 
Turner.  The  first  of  these  was  the  CloveUy  (1824),  of  The 
Soiil/iem  Coast,  a  pubUcation  undertaken  by  his  master 
and  his  brother  William  B.  Cook,  to  which  Miller  also  con- 
tributed the  Combe  Martin  and  the  Portsmouth.  He 
was  engaged  on  the  illustrations  of  England  and  Wales, 
1827-38  ;  of  The  Bivers  oj  France,  1833-35  ;  of  Roger's 
Poems,  1834  ;  and  very  largely  on  those  of  The  Prose  and 
Poetical  Works  of  Sir  Waller  Scott,  1834.  In  The  Pro- 
vincial Antiquities  and  Pictvresqite  Scenery  of  Scotland, 
182G,  ho  executed  a  few  excellent  plates  after  Thomson 
and  Turner.  Among  his  larger  engravings  of  Turner's 
works  may  be  mentioned  The  Grand  Canal,  Venice ;  The 
Rhine,  Osterprey,  and  Feltzen  ;  The  Bell  Rock ;  The  Tower 
of  London;  and  The  Shepherd.  The  art  of  William  Miller 
was  warmly  appreciated  by  Turner  himself,  and  Mr  Ruskin 
has  pronounced  liim  to  be  on  the  whole  the  most  successful 
translator  into  line  of  the  paintings  of  the  greatest  English 
landscapist.  His  renderings  of  complex  Turnerian  sky- 
effects  are  especially  deUcate  and  masterly.  Towards  the 
end  of  his  life  Miller  abandoned  engraving  and  occupied  his 
leisure  in  the  production  of  water-colours,  many  of  which 
were  exhibited  in  the  Royal  Scottish  Academy,  of  which 
he  was  an  honorary  member.  He  resumed  his  burin, 
however,  to  produce  two  final  series  of  vignettes  from 
dramngs  by  Birket  Foster  illustrative  of  Hood's  Poems, 
pubhshed  by  Moxon  in  1871.  Miller  was  a  much 
respected  member  of  the  Society  of  Friends.  He  died 
while  on  a  visit  to  Sheffield,  on  the  20th  of  January 
1882. 

-MILLER'S  THUMB  (Coltmgobio),  a  weU-known  little 
fish,  abundant  in  all  rivers  and  lakes  of  northern  and 
central  Europe  with  clear  water  and  gravelly  bottom. 
The  genus  Cottus,  to  which  the  ililler's  Thumb  belongs,  ia 
easily  recognized  by  its  broad,  flat  head,  rounded  and 
scaleless  body,  large  pectoral  and  narrow  ventral  fins,  'with 
two  dorsal  fins,  the  anterior  shorter  than  the  posterior ; 
the  praiopercidum  is  armed  ■n-ith  a  simple  or  branched 
spine.  The  species  of  the  genus  Cottus  are  rather  numerous, 
and  are  confined  to  tho  north  temperate  zone  of  the  globe, 
the  majority  being  marine,  and  known  by  the  name  of  "Bull- 
heads." The  Miller's  Thumb  is  confined  to  freshwater; 
and  only  one  other  freshwater  species  is  found  in  Europe, 
C.  pa'cilopiis,  from  rivers  of  Hungary,  Gahcia,  and  the 
Pyrenees  ;  some  others  occur  in  the  fresh  waters  of  northern 
Asia  and  North  America.  The  Miller's  Thumb  is  common 
in  all  suitable  localities  in  Great  Britain,  but  is  extremely 
rare  in  Ireland ;  in  tho  Alps  it  reaches  to  an  altitude 
exceeding  7000  feet.  Its  usual  length  is  from  3  to  5 
inches.  Generally  hidden  under  a  stone  or  in  a  hollow  of 
the  bank,  it  watches  for  its  jircy,  which  consists  of  small 
aquatic  animals,  and  darts  when  disturbed  with  extra- 
ordinary rapidity  to  some  other  place  of  refuge.  Tlie 
female  deposits  her  ova  in  a  cavity  under  a  stone,  whilst 
the  male  watches  and  defends  them  until  the  young  art 
hatched  and  able  to  shift  for  themselves. 


MILLET 


321 


MILLET  (French,  millet ;  Italian,  miglietto,  diminutive 
t)f  m!^/to  =  Latin  mille,  a  thousand,  in  allusion  to  its 
fertility)  is  a  name  applied  with  little  deSniteness  to  a  con- 
siderable number  of  often  very  variable  species  of  cereals 
belonging  to  distinct  genera  and  even  subfamilies  of 
Gramiaex.  The  true  millet,  however,  is  generally  admitted 
to  be  Panicum  (^Setana)  miliaceum,  L.  (German  Hirce, 
\»ith  which  P.  miliare.  Lam.,  is  reckoned  by  some 
Ixjtanists).  It  is  indigenous  to  the  East  Indies  and  North 
Australia,  but  Ls  meationed  by  Hippocrates  and  Theo- 
phrastus  as  already  cultivated  in  South  Euiope  in  their 
time.  Some  suppose  it  to  be  one  of  the  earliest  grains  used 
in  bread-making,  and  ascribe  the  origin  of  its  name  to panis, 
bread,  rather  than  to  the  paniculate  inflorescence.  It  is 
annual,  requires  rich  but  friable  soO,  grows  to  about  3  or  4 
feet  high,  and  is  characterized  by  its  bristly,  much  branched 
nodding  panicles.  One  variety  has  black  grains.  It  is 
largely  cultivated  in  India,  southern  Europe,  and  northern 
Africa,  and  ripens  as  far  north  as  southern  Germany,  in 
fact,  wherever  the  climate  admits  of  the  production  of  wine. 
The  grain,  which  is  very  nutritious, 
is  used  in  the  form  of  groats,  and 
makes  excellent  bread  when  mixed 
with  wheaten  flour.  It  is  aiso  largely 
-used  for  feeding  poultry  and  cage- 
birds,  for  which  purpose  mainly  it  is 
imported.  P.  italicum,  L.  (Setaria 
italica,  Beauv.),  is  of  similar  origin 
and  distribution,  and  is  one  of  the 
most  wholesome  and  palatable  Indian 
cereals.  It  i^  annual,  grows  4  to  5 
feet  high,  and  requires  dry  light  soil. 
German  Millet  (P.  germanicum,  Ger- 
man Kolbcnhirse,  Mohar)  is  probably 
merely  a  less  valuable  and  dwarf 
variety  of  P.  italicum,  having  an 
erect,  compact,  and  shorter  spike. 
The  grains  of  both  are  very  small, 
only  one  half  as  long  as  those  of 
common  millet,  but  are  exceedingly 
prolific.  Many  stalks  arise  from  a 
single  root,  and  a  single  spike  often 
yields  2  oz.  of  grain,  the  total  yield 
being  five  times  that  of  wheat.  They 
are  imported  for  poultry  feeding  like 
the  former  species,  but  are  extensively 
used  in  soups,  Ac,  on  the  Continent. 
Numerous  other  species  belonging  to 
this  vast  genus — the  largest  among  grasses,  of  which  the 
following  are  among  the  most  important — are  also  culti- 
vated in  tropical  or  sub-tropical  coimtries  for  their  grain  or 
as  fodder  grasses,  or  both,  each  variety  of  soil,  from  swamp 
to  desert,  having  its  characteristic  forms.  They  are  very 
readily  acclimatized  wherever  the  temperature  is  sufficient, 
e.g.,  in  Australia,  and  seem  destined  to  ri$e  in  agricultural 
importance. 

Polish  Millet  is  P.  digitaria  ;  P.  frumenlaceum,  Roxb. ,  Shamalo, 
a  Deccan  grass,  Is  probably  a  native  of  tropical  Africa  ;  wliile  the 
perennial  P.  sarmentosutn,  Ro-xb.,  also  largely  cultivated  in  tropical 
countries,  is  from  Sumatra.  P.  daomposiltim  is  the  Australian 
millet,  its  grains  being  ;nade  into  cakes  by  the  aborigines.  P. 
maximum,  Jacq,,  is  the  Guinea  Grass  ;  it  is  perennial,  grows  8  feet 
high,  and  j-ieMs  abundance  of  higlily  nutritious  grain.  P.  spec- 
tabih,  Nees. ,  is  the  Coapim  of  Angola,  but  has  been  acclimatized  in 
Brnzil  and  other  tropical  countries.  Other  gigantic  species  6  or  7 
feet  higli  form  the  field  crops  on  the  banks  of  the  Amazons.  Of  species 
belonging  to  allied  genera,  Peniiiseium  ihyphoitUum,  Rich.  {Pcni- 
mtlaria  spicaJa,  Willd.),  Bnjree,  sometimes  also  called  Eg>-ptian 
Millet,  a  Guinea  corn,  is  largely  cultivated  in  tropical  Asia,  Nubia, 
.ind  Egypt.  P.  dislichum  provia  sonth  of  the  Sahara.  Species  of 
Paspalum,  EUuMne,  and  ililium  are  also  cultivated  as  millets. 

But  the  most  important  dry  grain  of  the  tropical  coun trigs 


of  Africa  and  Asia,  particularly  of  India,  is  Sorghum  vulgare, 
Pera.  (IIolcus  Sorghum,  L.,  Andropogon  Sorghum,  Roxb.), 
Durra,  Great  Millet,  Indian  Miikt,  Turkish  Millet,  or 
Guinea  Corn  (the  French 
sorgho,  German  Mohren- 
hirse  or  Kaffemkom,  Ta- 
mil Cholum,  Bengalese 
Jowari).  It  ranges  prob- 
ably as  extensively  as  <>?^Jj*-asj 
wheat,  being  also  largely  "^Jf^^V . 
cultivated  in  southern  -  •^.i\ 
Europe,  tho  United 
States,  and  the  West 
Indies.  In  Asia  Minor, 
Arabia,  Italy,  and  Spain 
it  may  be  said  to  replace 
cats  and  barley.  It  is 
annual,  and  may  reach 
12  feet  in  height;  it  is 
extremely  prolific,  even 
rivalling  maize,  of  which 
it  is  a  near  congener.  Its 
flour  is  very  white,  but 
does  not  easily  make  good 
bread ;  it  is  largely  used 
in  cakes  and  puddings 
and  for  feeding  cattle  and 
poultry.  The  panicles  are 
used  for  brooms,  and  the 
roots  for   velvet>brushes.  Tin.  %— Sorghum  vulgare. 

S.  bicolor,  S.  nigrum,  S.  ruhrum,  S.  Kafrorum  (Kaffre 
Corn),  S.  saccharainm,  and  other  species  or  varieties  are 
also  of  economic  importance,  the  last-named  (the  "  Chinese 
sugar-cane")  being  much  cultivated  in  the  United  States  as 
a  source  of  molasses,  the  juice,  which  contains  much  glucose 
but  comparatively  little  cane  sugar,  being  simply  expressed 
and  concentrated  by  evaporation.  S.  vulgare  is  the  grain 
referred  to  by  Pliny  as  millet. 

For  systematic  and  economic  purposes,  see  Grasses  ;  Luersseu, 
Mcd.-Pharm.  Bolanik,  Leipsic,  1880;  Drury,  Useful  Plants  of 
India,  London,  1873  ;  F.  v.  JliiUer,  Select  Plants  for  Naturaliza- 
tion  in  Victoria,  Melbourne,  1876.  For  archseology,  see  Hehn's 
KuUurpJlanxn,  kc,  Berlin,  1877.  On  Sorghum  cerunum  ("rice 
com,"  &u. ,  of  western  Kansas)  see  Drummond's  "Report"  in  Pari. 
Papers,  No.  2570  (1880). 

MILLET,  Jean  FEAugois  (1814-1875),  was  a  painter 
of  French  peasant  life,  and  it  may  be  questioned  whether 
France  has  produced  in  our  day  any  greater  or  more 
original  artist.  He  himself  came  of  a  peasant  family,  and 
was  born  on  the  4th  of  October  1814  in  the  hamlet  of 
Gruchy,  near  Gr^ville  (La  Manche),  in  the  wild  and 
picturesque  district  called  La  Hague.  His  boyhood  was 
passed  working  in  his  father's  fields,  but  the  sight  of  the 
engravings  in  an  old  illustrated  Bible  set  him  dra\ving,  and 
thenceforth,  whilst  the  others  slept,  the  daily  hour  of  rest 
was  spent  by  Millet  in  trying  to  render  the  famiUar  scenes 
around  him.  From  the  village  priest  the  lad  learnt  to  read 
the  Bible  and  Virgil  in  Latin,  and  acquired  an  interest  in 
one  or  two  other  works  of  a  high  class  which  accompanied 
him  through  life ;  he  did  not,  however,  attract  attention 
so  much  by  his  acquirements  as  by  the  stamp  of  his  mind. 
The  whole  family  seems,  indeed,  to  have  worn  a  character 
of  austerity  and  dignity,  and  when  Milljt's  father  finaUy 
decided  to  test  the  vocation  of  his  son  as  an  artist,  it  was 
with  a  gravity  and  authority  which  recalls  the  patriarchal 
households  of  Calvinist  France.  Two  drawings  were  pre- 
pared and  placed  before  a  painter  at  Cherbourg  named 
Mouchel,  who  at  once  recognized  the  boy's  gifts,  and 
accepted  him  as  a  pupil;  but  shortly  after  (l835)  Millet's 
father  died,  and  the  eldest  son,  with  heroic  devotion,  took 
his  i^lace  at  home,  nor  did  he  return  to  his  work  until  the 
JCVL  —  41 


322 


M  I  L  — M  I  L 


pressing  caUa  from  without  were  solemjily  enforced  by  the 
wishes  of  his  own  family.  He  accordingly  went  bac^k  to 
Cherbourg,  but  after  a  short  time  spent  there  with  another 
master  (Langlois)  started  with  many  misgivings  for  Paris. 
The  council-general  of  the  department  had  granted  him  a 
sum  of  600  francs,  and  the  town  council  promised  an 
annua!  pension  of  400,  but  in  spite  of  friendly  help  and 
introductioas  Millet  went  through  great  difficulties.  The 
system  of  the  ficole  des  Beaux  Arts  was  hateful  to  him, 
and  it  was  not  until  after  much  hesitation  that  he  decided 
to  enter  an  official  studio — that  of  Delaroche.  The  master 
was  certainly  puzzled  by  his  pupil ;  he  saw  his  ability, 
and,  when  Millet  in  his  porerty  could  not  longer  pay  the 
monthly  fee's,  arranged  for  his  free  admission  to  the  studio, 
but  he  tried  in  vain  to  make  him  take  the  approved  direc- 
tion, and  lessons  ended  with  "  Eh,  bien,  allez  i  votre  guise, 
V0U3  ^tes  si  nouveau  poiur  moi  que  je  ne  veux  rien  vous 
dire."  At  last,  when  the  competition  for  the  Grand  Prix 
came  on,  Delaroche  gave  Millet  to  understand  that  he 
intended  to  secure  the  nomination  of  another,  and  there- 
upon Millet  withdrew  himself,  and  with  his  friend  Marolle 
started  in  a  little  studio  in  the  Eue  de  I'Est.  He  had 
renounced  the  beaten  track,  but  he  continued  to  study 
hard  whilst  he  sought  to  procure  bread  by  painting  por- 
traits at  10  or  15  francs  a  piece  and  producing  small 
"  pastiches  "  of  Watteau  and  Boucher.  These  works  are 
classed  as  those  of  his  "  flowery  manner,"  and  Millet  has 
been  reproached — he  whose  whole  Efe  was  an  act  of  con- 
viction— with  having  sacrificed  his  convictions  to  curry 
favour  with  the  public.  It  is  true  that  he  himself  has 
recorded  his  aversion  to  both  these  masters.  "In  the 
Lpuvre,"  he  said,  "I  received  vivid  impressions  from 
Mantegna,  complete  from  Michelangelo ;  after  Michelangelo 
and  Poussin  I  have  remained  faithful  to  the  early  masters." 
Boucher  was  for  him  an  object  of  "repulsion,"  and  in 
Watteau  "I  saw,"  he  said,  "a  little  theatrical  world  which 
oppressed  me."  Thus  it  was  then  that  Millet  naturally 
felt  and  saw,  but  the  strongest  genius  knows  moments  of 
self-doubt.  Later  in  life  Millet  was  heard  to  say  that 
were  it  not  for  the  small  group  who  beli»ved  in  him  he 
should  have  lost  faith  in  himself.  In  earlier  years,  before 
he  was  certain  of  his  own  leading,  he  was  naturally  influ- 
enced by  the  advice  of  others  whose  arguments  were  enforced 
by  the  pressure  of  dire  poverty.  Even  so  from  time  to 
time  the  native  vein  showed  strong.  In  1840,  as  soon  as 
he  had  despatched  a  portrait  tcf  the  Salon,  MUlet  went  back 
to  Gr^ville,  where  he  painted  Sailors  Mending  a  Sail  and  a 
few  other  pictures — reminiscences  of  Cherboui'g  life.  His 
first  success  was  obtained  in  1844  when  his  Milkwoman 
and  Lesson  in  Riding  (pastel)  attracted  notice  at  the  Salon, 
and  friendly  artists  presented  themselves  at  his  lodgings 
only  to  learn  that  his  wife  had  just  died,  and  that  he  him- 
self had  disappeared.  Millet  was  at  Cherbourg ;  there  he 
remarried,  but  having  amassed  a  few  hundred  francs  he 
went  back  to  Paris  and  presented  his  St  Jerome  at  the 
Salon  of  1845.  This  picture  was  rejected  and  exists  no 
longer,  for  Millet,  short  of  canvas,  painted  over  it  Qidipus 
Unbound,  a  work  which  during  the  following  year  was  the 
object  of  violent  criticism.  He  was,  however,  no  longer 
alone ;  Diaz,  Eugene  Tournoux,  Rousseau,  and  other  men 
of  note  supported  him  by  their  confidence  and  friendship, 
and  he  had  by  his  side  the  brave  Catharine  Lemaire,  his 
second  wife,  a  woman  who  bore  poverty  with  dignity  and 
gave  courage  to  her  husband  through  the  cruel  trials  in 
which  he  penetrated  by  a  terrible  personal  experience  the 
bitter  secrets  of  the  very  poor.  To  this  date  belong 
Millet's  Golden  Age,  Bird  Nesters,  Young  Girl  and  Lamb, 
and  Bathers;  but  to  the  Bathers  (Louvre)  succeeded  The 
Mother  Asking  Alms,  The  Workman's  Monday,  and  The 
Winnower.     This  last  work,  sxhibited  in  1848,  obtained 


conspicuous  success,  but  did  not  sell  till  Ledru  Rollin, 
informed  of  the  painter's  dii-e  distress,  gave  him  500  franca 
for  it,  and  accompanied  the  purchase  with  a  commission, 
the  money  for  which  gnabled  Millet  to  leave  Paris  for 
Barbizon,  a  village  on  the  skirts  of  the  forest  of  Fontaine- 
bleau.  There  he  settled  in  a  three-roomed  cottage  for  tho 
rest  of  his  life — twenty-seven  years,  in  which  he  wrought 
out  the  perfect  story  of  that  peasant  life  of  which  he  alone 
has  given  a  "  complete  impression."  Jules  Breton  has 
coloured  the  days  of  toil  with  sentiment ;  others,  like 
Courbet,  whose  eccentric  Funeral  at  Ornans  attracted  more 
notice  at  the  Salon  of  1850  than  Millet's  Sowers  and 
Binders,  have  treated  similar  subjects  as  a  vehicle  for 
protest  against  social  misery ;  Millet  alone,  a  peasant  and 
a  miserable  one  himself,  saw  true,  neither  softening  nor 
exaggerating  what  he  saw.  In  a  curious  letter  written  to 
M.  Sensier  at  this  date  (1850)  Millet  expressed  his  resolve 
to  break  once  and  for  all  with  mythological  and  uudraped 
subjects,  and  the  names  of  the  principal  works  painted 
subsequently  will  show  how  stedfastly  this  resolution  was 
kept.  In  1852  he  produced  Girls  Sewing,  JIan  Spreading 
Manure;  1853,  The  Reapers;  1854,  Church  at "Gr^ville 
(Luxembourg) ;  1855 — the  year  of  the  international 
Exhibition,  at  which  he  received  a  medal  of  second  class — 
Peasant  Grafting  a  Tree ;  1857,  The  Gleaners  ;  1859,  The 
Angelas  (Louvre,  engraved  Waltner),  The  Woodcutter  and 
Death;  1860,  Sheep  Shearing;  1861,  Woman  Shearing 
Sheep,  Woman  Feeding  Child;  1862,  Potato  Planters, 
Winter  and  the  Crows;  1863,  Man  with  Hoe,  Woman 
Carding;  1864,  Shepherds  and  Flock,  Peasants  Bringing 
Home  a  Calf  Born  in  the  Fields  ;  1869,  Knitting  Lesson  : 
1870,  Buttermaking ;  1871,  November — recollection  of 
Gruchy.  Any  one  of  these  works  vrill  show  how  great  an 
influence  Millet's  previous  practice  in  the  nude  had  upor. 
his  style.  The  dresses  worn  by  his  figures  are  not  clothes, 
but  drapery  through  which  the  forms  and  movements  of  the 
body  are  strongly  felt,  and  their  contour  shows  a  grand 
breadth  of  line  which  strikes  the  eye  at  once.  Something 
of  the  imposing  unity  of  his  work  was  also,  no  doubt,  due 
to  an  extraordinary  power  of  memory,  which  enabled 
Millet  to  paint  (like  Horace  Vernet)  without  a  model ;  he 
could  recall  with  precision  the  smallest  details  of  attitudes 
or  gestures  whioli  he  proposed  to  represent.  Thus  he  could 
count  on  pre^mting  free  from  after  thoughts  tho  vivid 
impre-'sions  whiil.he  had  first  received,  and  Millet's  nature 
was  such  that  the  impressions  which  he  received  were 
always  of  a  serious  and  often  of  a  noble  order,  to  which 
the  character  of  his  execution  responded  so  perfectly  thit 
even  a  Washerwoman  at  her  Tub  will  show  the  grand 
action  of  a  Medea.  The  drawing  of  this  subject. is  repro- 
duced in  Souvenirs  de  Barbizon,  a  pamphlet  in  which  M. 
Piedagnel  has  recorded  a  visit  paid  to  Jlillet  in  1864. 
His  circumstances  were  then  less  evU,  after  struggles  as 
severe  as  those  endured  in  Paris.  A  contract  by  which 
he  bound  himself  in  1860  to  give  up  all  his  work  for 
three  years  had  placed  him  in  possession  of  1000  francs 
a  month.  His  fame  extended,  and  at  the  exhibition  of 
1867  he  received  a  medal  of  the  first  class,  and  the 
ribbon  of  the  Legion  of  Honour,  but  ho  was  at  the  same 
moment  deeply  shaken  by  the  death  of  his  faithful  friend 
Rousseau.  Though  he  rallied  for  a  time  he  never  com- 
pletely recovered  his  health,  and  on  the  20th  January 
1876  he  died.  Ho  was-  buried  by  his  friend's  side  in  the 
churchyard  of  Chailly. 

See  A.  Sensier,  Tic  et  (Euvrt  dt  J.  F.  ifillei,  1874  ;  PiMagnel, 
Souvenirs  dc  Barbizon,  &c.  (E.  F.  S.  P.) 

MILLVILLE,  a  city  of  the  United  States,  in  Cumberland 
county.  New  Jersey,  at  tho  head  of  navigation  of  Maurice 
river,  40  miles  by  rail  from  Philadelphia  by  the  Capo  May, 
Millville,  and  Vineknd  section  of  the  West  Jersey  Railroad. 


M  I  L  —  M  I  L 


323 


It  is  one  of  the  chief  seats  of  glass-making  in  the  State, 
and  also  manufactures  cotton,  iron  pipes  for  water  and  gas, 
turbines,  itc.     The  population  was  7660  in  1880. 

JUXMAN,  Henky  Ham  (1791-1868),  dean  of  St 
Paul's,  was  bom  February  10,  1791,  and  was  the  third 
son  of  Sir  Francis  Milman,  physician  to  George  IIL  He 
was  educated  at  Eton  and  at  Brasenose  College,  Oxford  ; 
his  university  career  was  brilliant,  and  among  other  dis- 
tinctions he  gained  the  Newdigate  prize  with  a  poem  on 
the  Apollo  Belvedere.  In  1816  he  was  ordained,  and  was 
soon  afterwards  presented  to  the  living  of  St  Mary's, 
Reading.  He  had  already  made  his  appearance  as  a 
dramatic  writer,  his  tragedy  of  Fazio,  founded  on  a  narra- 
tive in  the  Annual  Eeguteriov  1795,  having  been  brought 
on  the  stage  without  his  knowledge  under  the  title  of  The 
Italian  Wi/e.  It  was  subsequently  produced  at  Covent 
Garden,  and  obtained  great  success  from  the  acting  of 
Miss  O'Neill  as  Bianca.  The  merit  of  the  play  consists 
chiefly  in  the  powerful  situation ;  the  diction  is  florid  and 
ornate.  The  same  criticism,  by  the  author's  own  confes- 
sion, applies  to  his  epic,  Samor,  the  Lord  of  the  Bright 
City  (Gloucester),  a  poem  written  in  early  youth.  'The 
subject  is  taken  from  British  legend,  and  Milnian  has  failed 
to  invest  it  with  serious  interest.  He  was  more  successful 
in  his  ne.xt  attempts,  where  the  subjects  were  well  adapted 
to  an  imagination  easily  kindled  by  the  historical  or  the 
moral  picturesque.  The  death  struggle  of  an  expiring 
nation  in  the  Fall  of  Jerusalem  (1820),  the  conflict  of  new 
truth  and  old  order,  of  religious  enthusiasm  and  earthly 
affection,  in  the  Martyr  of  Antioch  (1822),  are  depicted 
\vith  great  eloquence  and  real  insight  into  human  nature. 
Milman's  characters,  however,  are  personified  tendencies 
rather  than  personages,  and  in  poetical  style  he  was  unable 
to  free  himself  from  the  influence  of  Byron.  Belshazzar 
(1822)  is  in  general  a  pale  copy  of  Byron's  Sardanapalus, 
but  contains  some  fine  lyrics.  Milman's  lyrics,  indeed, 
especially  his  hymns,  have  frequently  a  fine  ring  and  sweep, 
though  the  thought  is  generally  commonplace.  His 
tragedy  of  Anne  Boteyn  (1826)  is  a  poor  performance. 
With  the  exception  of  admirable  versions  of  the  Sanskrit 
episode  of  Nala  and  Damayanti,  and  of  the  Agamemnon 
end  Bacchse,  this  was  Milman's  last  poetical  work.  He 
was  elected  professor  of  poetry  at  Oxford,  and  in  1827 
delivered  the  Banipton  lectures,  selecting  as  his  subject  the 
conduct  and  character  of  the  apostles  as  an  evidence  of 
Christianity.  In  1830  his  History  of  the  Jews  appeared  in 
the  Family  Library.  The  contracted  limits  of  this  series 
forbade  any  adequate  treatment  of  the  subject ;  the  work 
is  nevertheless  memorable  as  the  first  by  an  English 
clergj-man  which  treated  the  Jews  as  an  Oriental  tribe, 
recognized  sheikhs  and  emirs  in  the  Old  Testament,  sifted 
and  classified  documentary  evidence,  and  evaded  or 
minimized  the  miraculous.  Slilman  was  violently  attacked, 
especially  by  Dr  Faussett  and  Bishop  Mant,  and  the  odium 
thus  occasioned  stopped  the  publication  of  the  Family 
Library,  and  long  impeded  the  preferment  of  the  writer. 
In  1835,  however,  Sir  Robert  Peel  made  him  rector  of  St 
Margaret's  and  canon  of  Westminster,  and  in  1849  he 
became  dean  of  St  Paul's.  The  unpopularity  attaching  to 
him  had  by  this  time  nearly  died  away ;  and  now,  generally 
revered  and  beloved,  intimate  with  men  of  ajl  pursuits, 
politics,  and  persuasions,  counted  among  the  chief  ornaments 
of  the  most  pohshed  society  of  the  metropolis,  he  occupied 
a  singularly  dignified  and  enviable  position,  which  he 
constantly  employed  for  the  promotion  of  culture  and 
enlightenment,  and  in  particular  for  the  relaxation  of 
subscription  to  ecclesiastical  formularies.  His  History  of 
Christianity  under  the  Empire  had  appeared  in  1840,  but 
had  been  as  completely  ignored  as  if,  said  Lord  Melbourne, 
the  clergy  had  taken  a  universal  oath  never  to  mention  it 


to  any  one.  Widely  different  was  the  reception  of  the 
continuation,  his  great  History  of  Latin  Christianity  to 
the  death  of  Pope  Nicholas  V.'.  which  appeared  in  1860. 
He  also  edited  Gibbon  and  Horace,  and  at  his  death  in 
1868  left  behind  him  almost  finished  a  delightful  history 
of  his  own  cathedral,  which  was  completed  and  published 
by  his  son. 

Miln^an  possessed  a  large  share  of  the  imagination  which  enters 
into  and  calls  up  the  past,  and  of  that  which  interprets  actions  and 
apprehends  opinions  by  the  power  of  sympathy.  In  creative 
imagination  he  was  deficient,  a  defect  which  alone  prevented  him 
from  attaining  the  first  rank  as  an  historian.  Hia  pages  arc 
crowded  with  splendid  names  rather  than  with  living  personages  ; 
the  springs  of  action  are  disclosed  with  rcntarkable  penetration,  but 
the  actor  himself  is  rather  heard  than  seen.  There  are,  however, 
exceptions,  such  as  his  portrait  of  Sir  Christopher  Wren  ;  and 
he  possessed  a  peculiar  power  of  investing  mere  intellectual 
tendencies  with  personality  and  life.  Jlis  parallel  of  Latin  and 
Teutonic  Christianity,  for  example,  is  a  piece  of  finished  historical 
character  painting.  His  power  of  sympathy  rendered  him  in  elTect, 
as  his  natural  equity  and  benignity  made  him  in  intention,  a 
model  of  historical  candour,  only  cliargeable,  perhaps,  with  too  much 
gentleness.  It  will  be  long  ere  his  great  woik  is  superseded  ;  but  he 
will  perhaps  be  remembered  even  longer  as  an  embodiment  of  all 
the  qualities  which  the  higher  ecclesiastical  preferment  can  be 
supposed  capable  of-cncouraging  or  rewarding  among  the  clergy.of 
a  great  historical  church.  (R.  G.) 

MILO,  one  of  the  most  famous  athletes  of  Greece, 
whose  name  became  proverbial  for  personal  strength. 
He  lived  about  the  end  of  the  6th  century  B.C.,  was  six 
times  crowned  at  the  Olympic  games  and  six  times  at  the 
Pythian  for  wrestling,  and  was  famous  throughout  the 
civilized  world  for  his  feats  of  strength,  such  as  carrying 
an  ox  on  his  shoulders  through  the  stadium  at  Olympia. 
In  his  native  city  of  Crotona  he  was  much  honoured,  and 
he  commanded  the  army  which  defeated  the  people  of 
Sybaris  in  511  B.C.  When  Democedes,  the  physician  of 
Darius,  deserted  the  Persian  service,  he  sent  a  boastful 
message  to  the  king  of  Persia  informing  him  of  his 
marriage  to  the  daughter  of  Milo.  The  traditional  account 
of  his  death  is  often  used  to  point  a  moral :  he  found  a 
tree  which  some  woodcutters  had  partially  split  with  a 
wedge,  and  attempted  to  rend  it  asunder;  but  the  wedge 
fell  out,  and  the  tree  closed  on  his  hand,  imprisoning  him 
till  wolves  came  and  devoured  him. 

MILO  was  the  surname  of  T.  Annius  Papianus,  one  of 
the  best-known  of  the  partisan  leaders  and  ruffians  in  the 
stormy  times  that  preceded  the  dissolution  of  the  Roman 
republic.  His  father  was  C.  Papius  Celsus,  but  he  was 
adopted  by  his  mother's  father  T.  Annius  Luscus.  He 
joined  the  Pompeian  party,  and  led  the  band  of  mercenaries 
and  gladiators  which  was  required  to  defend  the  cause  and 
its  chief  supporters  in  the  public  streets.  P.  Clodius,  the 
leader  of  the  ruflians  who  professed  the  democratic  cause, 
was  his  personal  enemy,  and  their  brawls  in  the  streets  and 
their  mutual  accusations  in  the  law  courts  lasted  for  several 
years,  beginning  when  Jlilo  was  tribune  of  the  commons 
in  57  B.C.  In  53  their  quarreb  came  to  a  height  when 
Milo  was  candidate  for  the  consulship  and  Clodius  for  the 
prajtorship ;  and  when  the  two  leaders  met  by  accident  on 
the  Appiau  Way  at  Bovill^,  Clodius  was  murdered  (January 
20,  52  B.C.).  This  act  of  violence  strengthened  the  hands 
of  Pompey,  who  was  nominated  sole  consul,  and  proposed 
several  stringent  laws  to  restore  order  in  the  city.  Milo 
was  impeached;  his  guilt  was  clear,  and  his  enemies  took 
every  means  of  intimidating  his  supporters  and  his  judges. 
Cicero  was  afraid  to  deliver  the  speech  he  had  prepared 
Pro  Milone,  and  the  extant  oration  is  an  expanded  form  of 
the  unspoken  defence.  Milo  went  into  exile  at  ilassilia, 
and  his  property  was  sold  by  auction.  He  joined  the 
insurrection  of  M.  Coelius  in  48  B.C.,  and  was  soon  slain 
near  Thurii  in  Lucania.  His  wife  Fausta  was  daughter 
of  the  dictator  Sulla. 

MILTLADES.     See  Greece,  vo!.  xi.  p.  99. 


324 


MILTON 


MILTON,  John  (1G08-1674),  was  born  in  Bread  Street, 
Clicapsidp,  London,  on  the  9th  of  December  1008.  His 
father,  known  as  Mr  John  Milton  of  Bread  Street,  Bcrivener, 
was  himself  an  interesting  man.  He  was  a '  native  of 
Oifordstire,  having  been  born  there  in  or  about  1563,  the 
fior;  of  a  Richard  Milton,  yeoman  of  Stanton-St^John's, 
of  'Phom  there  are  traces  as  one  of  the  sturdiest  adherents 
to  the  old  Roman  Catholic  religion  that  had  been  left  in  his 
district.  The  son,  however,  had  turned  Protestant,  ,jind, 
having  been  cast  oS  on  that  account,  had  come  to  London, 
apparently  about  the  year  1586,  to  push  his  fortune. 
Having  received  a  good  education,  and  having  good  abilities, 
especially  in  music,  he  may  have  lived  for  some  time  by 
musical  teaching  and  practice.  Not  till  1595,  at  all  event.*, 
when  he  was  long  past  the  usual  age  of  apprenticeship,  do 
we  hear  of  his  preparation  for  the  profession  of  a  scrivener; 
and  not  till  February  1599-1600,  when  he  was  about  thirty- 
seven  years  of  age,  did  he  enter  the  profession  as  a  qualified 
member  of  the  Scriveners'  Company.  It  was  then  that  he 
set  up  his  "  house  and  shop  "  in  Bread  Street,  and  began, 
like  other  scriveners,  his  lawj'erly  business  of  drawing  up 
ivills,  marriage-settlements,  and  the  like,  with  such  related 
business  as  that  of  receiving  money  from  clients  for  invest- 
ment and  lending  it  out  to  the  best  advantage.  It  was  at 
the  same  time  that  he  married.  Till  recently  there  has 
been  the  most  extraordinary  uncertainty  as  to  the  maiden 
name  of  his  wife,  the  mother  of  the  poet.  It  has  been 
now  ascertained,  however,  that  she  was  a  Sarah  Jeffrey, 
one  of  the  two  orphan  daughters  of  a  Paul  Jeffrey,  of  St 
Swithln's,  London,  "  citizen  and  merchant-taylor,"  originally 
from  Essex,  who  had  died  before,  1583.  At  the  date  of 
her  marriage  she  was  about  twenty-eight  years  of  age. 
Her  widowed  mother,  Mrs  EUen  Jeflrey,  came  to  reside  in 
the  house  in  Bread  Street,  and  died  there  in  February 
1610-11.  Before  this  death  of  the  maternal  grandmother, 
three  children  had  been  born  to  the  scrivener  and  his  vrife, 
of  whom  only  two  survived, — the  future  poet,  and  an  elder 
sister,  called  Anne.  Of  three  more  children,  born  subse- 
quently, only  one  survived, — Christopher,  the  youngest  of 
the  family,  born  December  3,  1615. 

The  first  sixteen  years  of  Milton's  life,  coinciding  exactly 
with  the  last  sixteen  of  the  reign  of  James  I.,  associate 
themselves  with  the  house  in  Bread  Street,  and  with  the 
surroundings  of  that  house  in  Old  London.  His  father, 
v.'hile  prospering  in  business,  continued  to  be  known  as  a 
man  of  "  ingenioso "  tastes,  and  even  acquired  some  dis- 
tinction in  the  London  musical  world  of  that  time  by  his 
occasional  contributions  to  important  musical  publications. 
Music  was  thus  a  part  of  the  poet's  domestic  education 
from  his  infancy,  \\1iatever  else  could  be  added  was 
added  without  stint.  Again  and  again  Milton  speaks  with 
gratitude  and  affection  of  the  ungrudging  pains  bestowed 
by  his  father  on  his  early  education.  "  Both  at  the 
grammar  school  and  also  under  other  masters  at  home,"  is 
the  statement  in  one  passage,  "  he  caused  me  to  be 
instructed  daily."  This  brings  us  to  about  the  year  1619, 
■when  Milton  was  ten  years  of  age.  At  that  time  his 
domestic  tutor  was  Thomas  Young,  a  Scotsman  from  Perth- 
shire, and  graduate  of  the  university  of  St  Andrews,  after- 
wards a  man  of  no  small  distinction  among  the  English 
Puritan  clergy,  but  then  only  curate  or  assistant  to  some 
parish  clergyman  in  or  near  London,  and  eking  out  his 
livelihood  by  private  teaching.  Young's  tutorship  lasted 
till  1622,  when  ho  was  drawn  abroad  by  an  offer  of  the 
pastorship  or  chaplaincy  to  the  congregation  of  English 
merchants  in  Hamburg.  Already,  however,  for  a  year  or 
two,  his  tutorship  had  been  only  sujiplcmentary  to  the 
education  which  the  boy  was  receiving  by  daily  attendance 
at  St  Paul's  public  school,  close  to  Bread  Street.  The 
ieadmaster  of  the  school  was  Jlr  Alexander  Gill,  an  elderly 


Oxford  divine,  of  high  reputation  for  scholarfcip  and 
teaching  ability.  Under  him,  as  usher  or  second  master, 
was  his  .son,  Alexander  Gill  the  younger,  also  an  Oxford 
graduate  of  scholarly  reputation,  but  of  blistering  character. 
Milton's  acquaintance.ship  with  tliis  younger  Gill,  begun  at 
St  Paul's  school,  led  to  subsequent  friendship  and  corre- 
spondence. Far  more  affectionate  and  intimate  was  the 
friendship  formed  by  Milton  at  St  Paul's  with  a  certain 
young  Charles  Diodati,  his  schoolfellow  there,  the  son  of  a 
naturalized  Italian  physician,  Dr  Theodore  Diodati,  who 
had  settled  in  London  in  good  medical  practice,  and  was 
much  respected,  both  on  his  own  account,  and  as  being  the 
brother  of  the  famous  Protestant  divine,  Jean  or  Giovanni 
Diodati  of  Geneva.  Young  Diodati,  who  was  destined  for 
his  father's  profession,  left  the  school  for  Oxford  Universit}' 
early  in  1623;  but  Milton  remained  till  the  end  of  1624. 
A  family  incident  of  that  year  was  the  marriage  of  his 
elder  sister,  Anne,  with  Edward  Phillips,  a  clerk  in  the 
Government  office  caUed  the  Crown  Office  in  Chancery. 
Milton  had  then  all  but  completed  his  sixteenth  year,  and 
was  as  scholarly,  as  accomplished,  and  as  liandsome  a 
youth  as  St  Paul's  school  had  sent  forth.  We  learn  from 
himself  that  his  exercises  "in  English  or  other  tongue, 
prosing  or  versing,  but  chiefly  this  latter,"  had  begun  to 
attract  attention  even  in  his  boyhood.  Tin's  implies  that 
he  must  have  had  a  stock  of  attempts  in  English  and  Latin 
by  him  of  earlier  date  than  162-1.  Of  these  the  only 
specimens  that  now  remain  are  his  Paraphrase  on  Psalm 
CXir.  and  his  Paraphrase  on  Psalm  CXXXVI. 

On  February  12,  1624-25,  Milton,  at  the  age  of  sixteen 
years  and  two  months,  was  entered  as  a  student  of  Christ's 
College,  Cambridge,  in  the  grade  of  a  "  Lesser  Pensioner." 
His  matriculation  entry  in  the  books  of  the  university  is 
two  months  later,  April  9,  1625.  Between  these  two  dates 
James  I.  had  died,  and  had  been  succeeded  by  Charles  L 

Cambridge  University  was  then  in  the  full  flush  of  its 
prosperity  on  that  old  system  of  university  education 
which  combined  Latin  and  Greek  studies  with  plentiful 
drill  and  disputation  in  the  scholastic  logic  and  philosophy, 
but  with  little  of  phj'sical  science,  and  next  to  no  mathe- 
matics. There  were  sixteen  colleges  in  all,  dividing  among 
them  a  total  of  about  2900  members  of  the  university. 
Christ's  College,  to  which  Milion  belonged,  ranked  about 
third  in  the  university  in  respect  of  numbers,  counting 
about  265  members  on  its  books.  The  master  was  Dr 
Thomas  Bainbrigge ;  and  among  the  thirteen  fellows  were 
Mr  Joseph  Meade,  still  remembered  as  a  commentator  on 
the  Apocalypse,  and  Mr  William  Chajjpell,  afterwards  an 
Irish  bishop.  It  was  under  Chappell's  tutorship  that 
Milton  was  pl'.ced  when  he  first  entered  the  college.  At 
least  three  students  who  entered  Christ's  after  Jlilton,  but 
during  his  residence,  deserve  mention.  One  was  Edward 
King,  a  youth  of  Irish  birth  and  high  Irish  connexions, 
who  entered  in  1626,  at  the  ago  of  fourteen  ;  another  was 
John  Cleveland,  afterwards  known  as  royalist  and  satirist, 
who  entered  in  1627;  and  the  third  was  Henry  More,  sub- 
sequently famous  as  the  Cambridge  Platonist,  who  entered 
in  1631,  just  before  Milton  left.  Milton's  own  brother, 
Christopher,  joined  him  in  the  college  in  February  1630- 
31,  at  the  age  of  fifteen. 

Milton's  academic  course  lasted  seven  years  and  five 
months,  or  from  February  1624-25  to  July  1632,  bringing 
him  from  his  seventeenth  year  to  his  twentyfourtL  Tho 
first  four  years  were  his  time  of  undcrgraduateship.  It 
was  in  the  second  of  these,  tho  year  1G26,  that  there 
occurred  that  quarrel  between  him  and  his  tutor,  Mr 
Cliappell,  which  Dr  Johnson,  making  tho  most  of  a  lax 
tradition  from  Aubrey,  magnified  into  tho  supposition  that 
Milton  may  have  been  one  of  the  la>t  students  in  cither  of 
the   English   universities   that  suffered  tho  indignity  of 


MILTON 


32ff 


corporal  punishment.  The  legend  deserves  no  credit ;  but 
it  is  certain  that  Milton,  on  account  of  some  disagreemen*: 
with  Chappeli,  leading  to  the  interference  of  Dr  Bainbriggo, 
left  college  for  a  time,  and  that,  when  he  did  return,  it  was 
under  an  arrangement  which,  while  securing  that  he  should 
not  lose  a  term  by  his  absence,  transferred  him  from  the 
tutorship  of  Chappeli  to  that  of  Mr  Nathaniel  Tovey, 
another  of  the  fellows  of  Christ's.  From  a  reference  to 
the  matter  in  the  first  of  the  Latin  elegies  one  infers  that 
the  cause  of  the  quarrel  was  some  outbreak  of  self-assertion 
on  Milton's  part.  We  learn  indeed,  from  words  of  his  own 
elsewhere,  that  it  was  not  only  Chappeli  and  Bainbrigge 
that  he  had  offended  by  his  independent  demeanour,  but 
that,  for  the  first  two  or  three  years  of  his  undergraduate- 
.iliip,  he  was  generally  unpopular,  for  the  same  reason, 
among  the  younger  men  of  his  college.  They  had  nick- 
named him  "  The  Lady,"  a  nickname  which  the  students 
of  the  other  colleges  took  up,  converting  it  into  "  The  Lady 
of  Christ's  College  " ;  and,  though  the  allusion  was  chiefly 
to  the  peculiar  grace  of  his  personal  appearance,  it  con- 
veyed also  a  sneer  at  what  the  rougher  men  thought  his 
unusual  prudishness,  the  haughty  fastidiousness  of  his 
tastes  and  morals.  'Quite  as  distinct  as  the  information 
that  he  was  for  a  while  unpopular  with  the  majority  of  his 
fellow-students  are  the  proofs  that  they  all  came  round  him 
at  last  with  respect  and  deference.  The  change  had  cer- 
tainly occurred  before  January  1628-29,  when,  at  the  age  of 
twenty,  he  took  his  B.A.  degree.  By  that  time  his  intel- 
lectual pre-eminence  in  his  college,-and  indeed  among  his 
coevals  in  the  whole  university,  had  come  to  be  acknow- 
ledged His  reputation  for  scholarship  and  literary  genius, 
extraordinary  even  then,  was  more  than  confirmed  during 
the  remaining  three  years  and  a  half  of  his  residence  in 
Cambridge.  A  fellowship  in  Christ's  which  fell  vacant 
in  1630  would  undoubtedly  have  been  his  had  the  election 
to  such  posts  depended  then  absolutely  on  merit.  As  it 
was,  the  fellowship  was  conferred,  by  royal  favour  and 
mandate,  or>  Edward  King,  his  junior  in  coUege  standing 
by  sixteen  months.  In  July  1632  Milton  completed  his 
career  at  the  university  by  taking  his  M.A.  degree.  His 
signature  in  the  University  Register  stands  at  the  head  of 
the  list  of  those  who  graduated  as  masters  that  year  from 
Christ's.  Anthony  Wood's  summary  of  the  facts  of  his 
university  career  as  a  whole  is  that  he  "performed  the 
collegiate  and  academical  exercises  to  the  admiration  of  all, 
and  was  esteemed  to  be  a  virtuous  and  sober  person,  yet 
not  to  be  ignorant  of  his  own  parts."  The  statement  is 
in  perfect  accordance  with  Milton's  own  account.  He 
speaks  of  "  a  certain  niceness  of  nature,  an  honest  haughti- 
ness, and  self-esteem  of  what  I  was  or  what  I  might  be," 
as  one  of  his  earliest  characteristics ;  and,  though  intimat- 
ing that,  even  while  actually  a  student  at  Cambridge,  he 
had  "  never  greatly  admired  "  the  system  of  the  place,  he 
leaves  us  in  no  doubt  as  to  the  quite  exceptional  applause 
with  which  he  had  gone  through  all  the  prescribed  work. 
To  the  regular  Latin  and  Greek  of  the  university  he  had 
added,  he  tells  us,  French,  Italian,  and  Hebrew.  He  had 
diso  learnt  fencing  and  other  gentlemanly  exercises  of  the 
time,  and  was  an  expert  swordsman. 

Of  Milton's  skill  at  Cambridge  in  what  Wood  calls  "  the 
collegiate  and  academical  exercises "  specimens  remain  in 
his  Prolusicmes  Qusedam  OralorUe.  They  consist  of  seven 
rhetorical  Latin  essays,  generally  in  a  whimsical  vein, 
delivered  by  him,  in  his  undergraduateship  or  during  his 
subsequent  bachelorship  in  arts,  either  in  the  hall  of 
Christ's  College  or  in  the  pubUc  University  School. 
Jlelics  of  Milton's  Cambridge  period  are  also  four  of  his 
L?.tin  Familiar  Epistles;  but  more  important  are  the 
poetical  remains.  These  include  the  greater  number  of  his 
preserved  Latin  poems — to  wit,  (1)  the  seven  cieces  which 


compose  his  Elcgiarum  Lioer,  two  of  the  most  interesting 
of  them  addre.ssed  to  his  medical  friend,  Charles  Diodati, 
and  one  to  his  former  tutor  Young  in  his  exile  at  Ham- 
burg, (2)  the  five  short  Gunpowder  Plot  epigrams,  now 
appended  to  the  Elegies,  and  (3)  the  first  five  pieces  of  the 
S^lvartim  Liber,  the  most  important  of  which  are  the  hexa- 
meter poem  "  In  Quintum  Kovembris "  and  the  piece 
entitled  "Naturam  non  pati  senium."  Of  the  English 
poems  of  the  Cambridge  period  the  following  is  a  dated 
list  -.—On  the  Death  of  a  Fair  Infant,  1625-2G,  the  subject 
being  the  death  in  that  inclement  winter  of  his  infant 
niece,  the  first-bom  child  of  his  sister  Mrs  Phillips;  At 
a  Vacation  Exercise  in  the  College,  1628 ;  the  magnificent 
Christmas  ode  On  the  Morning  of  Christ's  Nativity,  1629 ;: 
the  fragment  called  The  Passion  and  the  Song  on  May 
Morning,  both  probably  belonging  to  1630;  the  lines  Oil- 
Shakespeare,  certainly  belonging  to  that  year;  the  two- 
facetious  pieces  On  the  University  Carrier,  1630-31 ;  the 
Epitaph  on  the  Marchioness  of  Winchester,  1631 ;  the 
sonnet  To  the  Nightingale,  probably  of  the  same  year ;  the 
sonnet  On  arriving  at  the  Age  of  twenty-three,  dating  itself 
certainly  in  December  1631 

Just  before  Milton  quitted  Cambridge,  his  father,  then 
verging  on  his  seventieth  year,  had  practically  retired 
from  his  Bread  Street  business,  leaving  the  active  manage- 
ment of  it  to  a  partner,  named  Thomas  Bower,  a  former 
apprentice  of  his,  and  had  gone  to  spend  his  declining 
years  at  Horton  in  Buckinghamshire,  a  small  village  near 
Colnbrook,  and  not  far  from  Windsor.  Here,  accordingly, 
in  a  house  close  to  Horton  church,  Milton  mainly  resided 
for  the  next  six  years, — from  July  1632  to  April  1638. 

Although,  when  he  had  gone  to  Cambridge,  it  had  been 
with  the  intention  of  becoming  a  clergyman,  that  intention 
had  been  abandoned.  His  reasons  were  that  "tyranny 
had  invaded  the  church,"  and  that,  finding  he  could  not 
honestly  subscribe  the  oaths  and  obhgations  required,  he 
"thought  it  better  to  preserve  a  blameless  silence  .before 
the  sacred  oiEce  of  speaking  begun  with  servitude  and 
forswearing."  In  other  words,  he  was  disgusted  vdth  the 
system  of  high  prelacy  which  Laud,  who  had  been  bishop 
of  London  and  minister  paramount  in  ecclesiastical  matters 
since  1628,  was  estabUshing  and  maintaining  in  the  Church 
of  England.  "  Church-outed  by  the  prelates,"  as  he 
emphatically  expresses  it,  he  seems  to  have  thought  for  a 
time  of  the  law.  From  that  too  he  recoiled ;  and,  leav- 
ing the  legal  profession  for  his  brother  Christopher,  he  had 
decided  that  the  only  hfe  possible  for  himself  was  one  of 
leisurely  independeu'-e,  dedicated  wholly  to  scholarship  and 
hterature.  His  compunctions  on  this  subject,  expressed 
already  in  his  sonnet  on  arriving  at  his  twenty-third  year, 
are  expressed  more  at  length  in  an  English  letter  sent  by 
him,  shortly  after  the  date  of  that  sonnet,  and  with  a  copy 
of  the  sonnet  included,  to  some  friend  who  had  been 
remonstrating  with  him  on  his  "  belatedness "  and  his 
persistence  in  a  life  of  mere  dream  and  study.  There 
were  gentle  remonstrances  also  from  his  excellent  father. 
Between  such  a  father  and  such  a  son,  however,  the  con- 
clusion was  easy.  WTiat  it  was  may  be  learnt  from  Milton's 
fine  Latin  poem  Ad  Patrem.  There,  in  the  midst  of  an 
enthusiastic  recitation  of  all  that  his  father  had  done  for 
him  hitherto,  it  is  intimated  that  the  agreement  between 
them  on  their  one  little  matter  of  difference  was  already 
complete,  and  that,  as  the  son  was  bent  on  a  prrvate  Ufe  of 
hterature  and  poetry,  it  had  been  decided  that  he  should 
have  his  own  way,  and  should  in  fact,  so  long  as  he  chose, 
be  the  master  of  his  father's  means  and  the  chief  person  in 
the  Horton  household,  j^or  the  six  years  from  1632  this, 
accordingly,  was  Milton's  position.  In  perfect  leisure,  and 
in  a  pleasant  rural  retirement,  with  Windsor  at  the  distance^ 
of  an  easy  walk,  and  London  only  about  17  miles- 'ofi.  h» 


326 


MILTON 


-went  through,  he  tells  us,  a  systematic  course  of  reading 
in  the  Greek  and  Latin  classics,  varied  by  mathematics, 
music,  and  the  kind  of  physical  science  we  should  now  call 
cosmography. 

It  is  an  interesting  fact  that  Milton's  very  first  public 
appearance  in  the  world  of  English  authorship  was  in  so 
honourable  a  place  as  the  second  foUo  edition  of  Shakespeare 
in  1632.  His  enthusiastic  eulogy  on  Shakespeare,  written 
in  1630,  was  one  of  three  anonjTnous  pieces  prefixed  to 
that  second  folio,  along  with  reprints  of  the  commendatory 
verses  that  had  appeared  in  the  first  folio,  one  of  them 
Ben  Jonson's  immortal  tribute  to  Shakespeare's  memory. 
Among  the  poems  actually  written  by  Milton  at  Horton 
the  first,  in  all  probability,  after  the  Latin  hexameters  Ad 
Patrem,  were  the  exquisite  companion  pieces  L' Allegro 
and  II  Penseroso.  There  followed,  in  or  about  1633,  the 
fragment  called  A  rcades.  It  was  part  of  a  pastoral  masque 
got  up  by  the  young  people  of  the  noble  family  of  Egerton 
in  honour  of  their  venerable  relative  the  countess-dowager 
of  Derby,  and  performed  before  that  lady  at  her  mansion  of 
Harefield,  near  Uxbridge,  about  10  miles  from  Horton. 
That  Milton  contributed  the  words  for  the  entertainment 
was,  almost  certainly,  owing  to  his  friendship  mth  Henry 
Lawes,  one  of  the  chief  court  musicians  of  that  time,  whose 
known  connexion  with  the  Egerton  family  points  hmi  out 
as  the  probable  manager  of  the  Harefield  masque.  Next 
in  order  among  the  compositions  at  Horton  may  be 
mentioned, the  three  short  pieces,  At  a  Solemn  Minic,  On 
I'ime,  and  U]>on  the  Circumcision ;  after  which  comes 
Comns,  the  largest  and  most  important  of  all  Milton's 
minor  poems.  The  name  by  which  that  beautiful  drama 
i.s  now  universally  kno-ivn  was  not  given  to  it  by  Milton 
himself.  He  entitled  it,  more  simply  and  vaguely,  "  A 
Jvlasque  presented  at  Ludlow  Castle,  163-1,  before  the  Earl 
■of  Bridgewater,  Lord  President  of  Wales."  The  existence 
of  this  poem  is  certainly  due  to  ililton's  intimacy  with 
Lawes.  The  earl  of  Bridgewater,  the  head  of  the  Egerton 
family,  had  been  appointed  to  the  high  office  of  the 
presidency  or  viceroyalty  of  Wales,  the  official  seat  of 
which  was  Ludlow  in  Shropshire  ;  it  had  been  determined 
that  among  the  festivities  on  his  assumption  of  the  office 
ttiere  should  be  a  great  masque  in  the  hall  of  Ludlow 
Castle,  with  Lawes  for  the  stage  manager  and  one  of  the 
actors  ;  Milton  had  been  applied  to  by  Lawes  for  the 
poetry;  and,  actually,  on  Michaelmas  night,  September  29, 
1631,  the  drama  furnished  by  Milton  was  performed  in 
Ludlow  Castle  before  a  great  assemblage  of  the  nobility 
and  gentry  of  the  Welsh  principality,  Lawes  taking  the  part 
»f  "  the  attendant  spirit,"  while  the  parts  of  "  first  brother," 
"  second  brother,"  and  "  the  lady  "  were  taken  by  the  earl's 
three  youngest  children,  Viscount  Brackley,  Mr  Thomas 
Egerton,  and  Lady  Alice  Egerton. — From  September  1634 
to  the  beginning  of  1637  is  a  comparative  blardc  in  our 
records.  Straggling  incidents  in  this  blank  are  a  Latin 
letter  of  date  December  -1,  1634,  to  Alexander  Gill  the 
younger,  a  Greeh  Translation  of  Psalm  CXIY.,  a  visit  to 
Oxford  in  1635  for  the  purpose  of  incorporation  in  the 
degree  of  M.A.  in  that  university,  and  the  beginning  in 
^lay  1636  of  a  troublesome  lawsuit  against  his  now  aged 
and  infirm  father. — The  lawsuit,  which  was  instituted  by 
i\  certain  Sir  Thomas  Cotton,  baronet,  nephew  and  executor 
of  a  deceased  John  Cotton,  Esq.,  accused  the  elder  Milton 
and  his  partner  Bower,  or  both,  of  having,  in  their  capacity 
i\3  scriveners,  misappropriated  divers  large  sums  of  money 
that  had  been  entrusted  to  them  by  the  deceased  Cotton  to 
1)0  let  out  at  interest.  The  lawsuit  was  still  in  progress 
when,  on  the  3d  of  April  1637,  Milton's  mother  died,  at 
the  ago  of  about  sixty-five.  A  flat  blue  stone,  with  a  brief 
inscription,  visible  on  the  cliancel-pavement  of  Horton 
'ckm-ch.   still    inurk.^   the    "kce   of   her   burial,     MiltQu's 


testimony  to  her  character  is  that  she  was  a  "a  most 
excellent  mother  and  particularly  known  for  her  cluu'itiea 
through  the  ueighboiu-hood."  The  year  1637  was  other- 
wise eventful  in  his  biography.  It  was  in  that  year  that 
his  Comus,  after  lying  in  manuscript  for  more  than  two 
years,  was  published  by  itself,  in  the  form  of  a  small  quarto 
of  thirty-five  pages.  The  author's  name  was  withheld,  and 
the  entire  responsibility  of  the  publication  was  assumed  by 
Henry  Lawes.  Milton  seems  to  have  been  in  London  when 
the  little  volume  appeared.  He  was  a  good  deal  in  London, 
at  all  events,  during  the  summer  and  autumn  months 
immediately  following  his  mother's  death.  The  plague, 
which  had  been  on  one  of  its  periodical  visits  of  ravage 
through  England  since  early  in  the  preceding  year,  was 
then  especially  severe  in  the  Horton  neighbourhood,  while 
London  was  comparatively  free.  It  was  probably  in 
London  that  Jlilton  heard  of  the  death  of  young  Edward 
King  of  Christ's  College,  whom  he  had  left  as  one  of  the 
most  popular  of  the  fellows  of  the  college,  and  one  of  the 
clerical  hopes  of  the  university.  King  had  sailed  from 
Chester  for  a  vacation  visit  to  his  relatives  in  Ireland, 
when,  on  the  10th  of  August,  the  ship,  in  perfectly  calm 
water,  struck  on  a  rock  and  went  dowm,  he  and  nearly 
all  the  other  passengers  going  down  with  her.  There  ia 
no  mention  of  the  sad  accident  in  two  otherwise  very  in- 
teresting Latin  Familiar  Epistles  of  Milton,  of  September 
1637,  both  addressed  to  his  medical  friend  Charles  Diodati, 
and  both  dated  from  London  ;  but  how  deeply  the  death  of 
King  had  affected  him  appears  from  his  occupation  shortly 
afterwards.  In  November  1637,  and  probably  at  Horton, 
whence  the  plague  had  by  that  time  vanished,  he  WTOte 
his  matchless  pastoral  monody  of  Lycidas.  It  was  his  con- 
tribution to  a  collection  of  obituary  verses,  Greek,  Latin,  and 
English,  which  King's  numerous  friends,  at  Cambridge  and 
elsewhere,  were  getting  up  in  lamentation  for  his  sad  fate. 
The  collection  did  not  appear  till  early  in  1638,  when  it 
was  published  in  two  parts,  with  black-bordered  title-pages, 
from  the  Cambridge  University  press,  one  consisting  of 
twenty-three  Latin  and  Greek  pieces,  the  other  of  thirteen 
English  pieces,  the  last  of  which  was  Milton's  monody, 
signed  only  with  his  initials  "J.  M."  It  was  therefore 
early  in  1638,  when  Milton  was  in  his  thirtieth  year,  that 
copies  of  his  Lycidas  may  have  been  in  circulation  among 
those  who  had  already  become  acquainted  with  his  Comvs. 
Milton  was  then  on  the  wing  for  a  foreign  tour.  He 
had  long  set  his  heart  on  a  visit  to  Italy,  and  circum- 
stances now  favoured  his  wish.  The  vexatious  Cotton 
lawsuit,  after  hanging  on  for  nearly  two  years,  was  at  an 
end,  as  far  as  the  elder  Milton  was  concerned,  with  the 
most  absolute  and  honourable  vindication  of  his  oharacter 
for  probity,  though  with  some  continuation  of  the  case 
against  his  partner,  'Bower.  Moreover,  Milton's  younger 
brother,  Christopher,  though  but  twenty-two  years  of  age, 
and  just  about  to  be  called  to  the  bar  of  the  Inner  Temple,  . 
had  married  a  wife ;  and  the  young  couple  had  gone  to 
reside  at  Horton  to  keep  the  old  man  company.  There 
being  nothing  then  to  detain  Milton,  all  was  arranged 
for  his  journey.  Before  the  end  of  April  1638  he 
was  on  his  way  across  the  Channel,  talcing  oue  English 
man-servant  with  him.  At  the  time  of  his  departure 
the  last  great  news  in  England  was  that  of  tlie  National 
Scottish  Covenant,  or  solemn  oath  and  band  of  all  janks 
and  clas.scs  of  the  Scottish  people  to  stand  by  each  other 
to  the  death  in  resisting  the  ecclesiastical  innovations 
which  Laud  and  Charles  had  been  forcing  upon  Scotland. 
To  Charles  the  news  of  this  "damnable  Covenant,"  as  he 
called  it,  was  enraging  beyond  measure ;  but  to  tlio  maf.'i 
of  the  English  Puritans  it  was  far  from  unwelcome, 
promising,  as  it  seemed  to  do.  for  England  herself,  the 
subversion  at  last  of  that  system  of  "  Thorough,"  or  dcspotit 


\ 


MILTON 


327 


gOTemment  by  the  king  and  hia  ministers  without  parlia- 
ments, under  which  the  country  had  been  groaning  since  the 
contemptuous  dissolution  of  Charles's  third  parliament  ten 
years  before. 

Through  Paris,  where  Milton  made  but  a  short  stay, 
receiving  polite  attention  from  the  English  ambassador, 
Lord  Scudamore,  and  having  the  honour  of  an  introduction 
to  the  famous  Hugo  Girotiua,  then  ambassador  for  Sweden 
at  the  French  court,  he  moved  on  rapidly  to  Italy,,  by  way 
of  Nice.  After  visiting  Genoa,  Leghorn,  and  Pisa,  he 
arrived  at  Florence,  August  1638.  Enchanted  by  the  city 
and  its  society,  he  remained  there  two  months,  frequenting 
the  chief  academies  or  literary  clubs,  and  even  taking- part 
in  their  proceedings.  Among  the  Florentines  with  whom 
he  became  intimate  were  Jacopo  (Jaddi,  young  Carlo  Dati, 
PietrO  Frescobaldi,  Agostino  Coltellini,  the  grammarian 
Benedetto  Buommattei,  Valerio  Chimentelli,  and  Antonio 
Francim.  It  was  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Florence  also 
that  he  "  found  and  visited "  the  great  Qalileo,  then  old 
and  blind,  and  stUl  nominally  a  prisoner  to  the  Inquisition 
for  his  astronomical  heresy.  From  Florence,  by  Siena, 
Milton  went  to  Rome.  He  reached  the  Eternal  City  some 
time  in  October,  and  spent  about  another  two  months 
there,  not  only  going  about  among  the  ruins  and  antiquities 
and  visiting  the  galleries,  but  mixing  also,  as  he  had  done 
in  Florence,  with  the  learned  society  of  the  academies. 
Among  those  with  whom  he  formed  acquaintance  in  Borne 
■were  the  German  scholar,  Lucas  Hobtenius,  librarian  of 
the  Vatican,  and  three  native  Italian  scholars,  named 
Cherubini,  SaliQli,  and  Selvaggi.  There  is  record  of  his 
having  dined  once,  in  company  with  several  other  English- 
men, at  the  hospitable  table  of  the  English  Jesuit  College. 
The  most  picturesque  incident,  however,  of  his  stay  in 
Bome  was  his  presence  at  a  great  musical  entertainment 
in  the  palace  of  Cardinal  Francesco  Barberim.  Here  he 
had  not  only  the  honour  of  a  specially  kind  reception  by 
the  cardinal  himself,  but  also,  it  wpuld  appear,  the 
supreme  pleasure  of  listening  to  the  marvellous  Leonora 
Barbni,  the  most  renowned  singer  of  her  age.  Late  in 
November  he  left  Rome  for  Naples.  Here  also  he  was 
fortunate.  The  great  man  of  the  place  was  "uie  now  very 
aged  Giovanni  Battista  Manso,  marquis  of  VUla,  the  friend 
and  biographer  of  the  great  Tasso,  and  subsequently  the 
friend  and  patron  of  the  sweet  Marini.  By  a  happy 
accident  Milton  obtained  an  introduction  to  Manso,  and 
nothing  could  exceed  the  courtesy  of  the  attentions  paid 
by  the  aged  marquis  to  the  young  English  stranger.  He 
had  hardly  been  in  Naples  a  month,  however,  when  there 
came  news  from  England  which  not  oixly  stopped  an 
intention  he  had  formed  of  extending  his  tour  to  Sicily 
and  thence  into  Greece,  but  urged  his  immediate  return 
home.  "  The  sad  news  of  civil  war  in  England,"  he  says, 
"  called  me  back ;  for  I  considered  it  base  that,  while  my 
fellow-countrymen  were  fighting  at  home  for  liberty,  I 
should  be  travelling  abroad  for  intellectual  culture."  In 
December  1638,  therefore,  he  set  his  face  northwards  again. 
His  return  journey,  however,  probably  because  he  learnt 
that  the  news  he'  had  first  received  was  exaggerated  or 
premature;  was  broken  into  stages.  He  spent  a  second 
two  months  in  Rome,  ascertained  to  have  been  January 
and  February  1638-39  ;  during  which  two  months,  as  he 
tells  us,  he  was  in  some  danger  from  the  papal  police, 
because  the  English  Jesuits  in  Rome  had  taken  offence  at 
hia  habit  of  free  speech,  wherever  he  went,  on  the  subject 
of  religion.  Though  he  did  not  alter  his  demeanour  in  the 
least  in  this  particular,  nothing  happened ;  and  from  Rome 
,Jie  got  safely  to  Florence,  welcomed  back  heartily  by  his 
Tlorentine  friends,  and  renewing  his  meetings  with  them 
privately  and  in  their  academies.  Hia  second  visit  to 
Florence,  including  an  ezcursio"  to  Lucca,  extended  over 


two  months;  and  not  till  April  1639  did  he  take  his 
leave,  and  proceed,  by  Bologna  and  Ferrara,  to  Venice. 
About  a  month  was  given  to  Venice ;  and  thence,  having 
shipped  for  England  the  books  he  had  collected  in  Italy, 
he  went  on,  by  Verona  and  MUan,  over  the  Alps,  to 
Geneva.  In  this  Protestant  city  he  spent  a  week  or  two 
in  June,  forming  interesting  acquaintanceships  there  too, 
and  having  daily  conversations  with  the  great  Protestant 
theologian  Dr  Jean  Diodati,  the  uncle  of  his  friend 
Charles  Diodati.  From  Geneva  he  returned  to  Paris,  and 
so  to  England.  He  was  home  again  in  August  1639, 
having  been  absent  in  all  fifteen  or  sixteen  months. 

Milton's  Continental  tour,  and  especially  the  Italian 
portion  of  it,  remained  one  of  the  chief  pleasures  of  hia 
memory  through  all  his  subsequent  life.  Nor  was  it  quite 
without  fruits  of  a  literary  kind.  Besides  two  of  his  Latin 
EpUtolss  Familiares,  one  to  the  Florentine  grammarian 
Buommattei,  and  the  other  to  Lucas  Holstenius,  there 
have  to  be  assigned  to  Milton's  sixteen  months  on  the 
Continent  his  three  Latin  epigrams  Ad  Leonoram  Eomie 
Canentem,  his  Latin  scazons  Ad  Salsillum  Poetam 
Momanum  jEgrotantem,  his  fine  and  valuable  poem  in 
Latin  hexameters  entitled  Mansus,  and  his  Five  Italian 
Sonnets,  with  a  Canzone,  celebrating  the  channs  of  some 
Italian  lady  he  had  met  in  his  travels. 

''One  sad  and  marring  memory  did  mingle  itself  with  all 
that  was  otherwise  so  delightful  in  his  Italian  reminisceiiceB. 
His  bosom  friend  and  companion  from  boyhood,  the  half- 
Italian  Charles  Diodati,  who  had  been  to  him  as  Jonathan 
to  David,  and  into  whose  ear  he  had  hoped  to  pour  the 
whole  narrative  of  what  he  had  seen  and  done  abroad,  had 
died  during  his  absence.  He  had  died,  in  Blackfriars, 
London,  in  August  1638,  not  four  months  after  Milton 
had  gone  away  on  his  tour.  The  intelligence  had  not 
reached  MO  ton  till  some  months  afterwards,  probably  not 
till  his  second  stay  in  Florence;  and,-though  he  must  have 
learnt  some  of  the  particulars  from  the  youth's  uncle  in 
Geneva,  he  did  not  know  them  fully  till  his  return  to 
England.  How  profoundly  thsy  affected  him  appears 
from  his  Epitaphium  Damonis,  then  written  in  memory  o'. 
his  dead  friend.  The  importance  of  this  poem  in  MUton's 
biography  cannot  be  overrated.  It  is  perhaps  the  noblest 
of  aU  his  Latin  poems;  and,  though  in  the  form  of  a 
pastoral,  and  even  of  a  pastoral  of  the  most  artificial  sort, 
it  is  unmistakably  an  outburst  of  the  most  passional,' 
personal  grief.  In  this  respect  Lycidas,  artistically  perfect 
though  that  poem  is,  cannot  be  compared  with  it ;  and  it  ia 
only  the  fact  thaXLycidas  is  in  English,  while  the  Epitaphium 
Damonis  is  in  Latin,  that  has  led  to  the  notion  that  Edward 
King  of  Christ's  College  was  peculiarly  and  pre-eminently 
the  friend  of  Milton  in  his  youth  and  early  manhood. 

That  Milton,  now  in  his  thirty-first  year,  had  been  gird- 
ing himself  for  some  greater  achievement  in  poetry  than  any 
he  had  yet  attempted,  Cormcs  not  excepted,  we  should  have 
known  otherwise.  What  we  should  not  have  kno^vn,  but 
for  an  incidental  passage  in  the  Epitaphium-  Damonis,  is 
that,  at  the  time  of  his  return  from  Italy,  he  had  chosen  a 
subject  for  such  a  high  literary  effort  of  a  new  Miltonic 
sort.  The  passage  is  one  in  which,  after  referring  to  the 
hopes  of  Diodati's  medical  career  as  so  suddenly  cut  short 
by  his  death,  Milton  speaks  of  himself  as  the  sun'ivor  and 
of  his  own  projects  in  his  profefssion  of  literature.  In 
translation,  it  may  run  thus  :- 

"  I  have  a  theme  of  the  TrojaDS  cruising  onr  southern  headlands 
Shaping  to  song,  and  the  realm  of  Imogen,  daughter  of  Pandraa, 
Brennus  and  Arvirach,  dukes,  and  Bren'a  bold  brother,  Belinufl  ; 
Then  the  Armoriean  settlers  under  the  laws  of  the  Britons, 
Ay,  and  the  womb  of  Igraine  fatally  pregnant  with  Arthur, 
Uther's  son,  whom  he  got  disguised  in  Gorlois'  likeness. 
All  by  Merlin's  craft.     0  then,  if  life  shall  be  spared  me, 
Thou  shalt  be  hung,  my  pipe,  tar  off  on  some  dying  old  pin(-tm. 


328 


MILTON 


Mucli-forgotton  of  me  ;  or  else  }roar  Latian  music 

Changed  for  the  British  war-screech  I     What  then  I    For  one  to 

do  all  things, 
One  to  hone  all  things,  fits  not  t    Prize  sufficiently  ample 
Mine,  and  distinction  great  (unhoard-of  ever  thereafter 
Thougli  I  should  be  and  inglorious  all  through  the  worla  of  the 

stranger), 
li  but  the  yellow-haired  Ouse  shall  read  me,  the  drinker  of  Alan, 
Humber,  which  whirls  as  it  flows,  and  Trent's  whole  valley  of 

orchards, 
Thames,  my  own  Thames,  above  all,  and  Tamar's  western  waters. 
Tawny  with   ores,  and  where  the  wldte  waves  swinge  the   far 

Orknevs. " 

Interpreted  prosaically,  this  means  tnat  Milton  was 
meditating  an  epic  of  wkich  King  Ai'tliur  was  to  be  the 
central  figure,  but  which  should  include  somehow  the 
whole  cycle  of  British  and  Arthurian  legend,  and  that  not 
only  was  this  epic  to  be  in  English,  but  he  had  resolved 
that  all  his  poetry  for  the  future  should  be  in  the  same 


Not  long  alter  Milton's  return  the  house  at  Horton 
ceased  to  be  the  family  home.  Christopher  Milton  and 
his  wife  went  to  reside  at  Reading,  taking  the  old 
gentleman  with  them,  while  Milton  himself  preferred 
London.  He  had  first  taken  lodgings  in  St  Bride's 
Churchyard,  at  the  foot  of  Fleet  Street ;  but,  after  a  while, 
probably  early  in  1640,  he  removed  to  a  "pretty  garden 
house  "  of  his  own,  at  the  end  of  ■  an  entry,  in  the  part  of 
Aldersgato  Street  which  lies  immediately  on  the  city  side 
of  what  is  now  Maidenhead  Court.  His  sister,  whose 
first  husband  had  died  in  1631,  had  married  a  Mr  Thomas 
Agar,  his  successor  in  the  Crown  Office ;  and  it  was  arranged 
that  her  two  sons  by  her  first  husband  should  be  educated 
by  their  uncle.  John  PhilUps,  the  younger  of  them,  only 
nine  years  old,  had  boarded  with  him  in  the  St  Bride's 
Churchyard  lodgings  ;  and,  after  the  removal  to  Aldersgate 
Street,  the  other  brother,  Edward  Phillips,  only  a  year 
older,  became  his  boarder  also.  Gradually  a  few  other 
boys,  the  sons  of  well-to-do  personal  friends,  joined  the 
two  Piiillipses,  whether  as  boarders  or  for  daily  lessons, 
so  that  the  house  in  Aldersgate  Street  became  a  small 
private  school.  The  drudgery  of  teaching  seems  always 
to  have  been  liked  by  Milton.  What  meanwhile  of  the 
great  Arthurian  epic?  That  project,  we  find,  had  been 
given  up,  and  Milton's  mind  was  roving  among  many  other 
subjects,  and  balancing  their  capabilities.  How  he  wavered 
between  Biblical  subjects  and  keroic  subjects  from  British 
history,  and  how  many  of  each  kind  suggested  themselves 
to  him,  one  learns  from  a  list  in  his  own  handwriting  among 
the  Milton  MSS.  at  Cambridge.  It  contains  jottings  of 
no  fewer  than  fiftyithree  subjects  from  the  Old  Testament, 
eight  from  the  Gospels,  thirty-three  from  British  and 
English  history  before  the  Conquest,  and  five  from  Scottish 
history.  It  is  curious  that  all  or  most  of  them  are  headed 
or  described  as  subjects  for  "tragedies,"  as  if  the  epic 
form  had  now  been  abandoned  for  the  dramatic.  It  is 
more  interesting  still  to  observe  which  of  the  subjects 
fascinated  Milton  most.  Though  several  of  them  are 
sketched  pretty  fully,  not  one  is  sketched  at  such  length 
and  so  particularly  as  Paradise  Lost.  It  is  the  first  subject 
on  the  list,  and  there  are  four  separate  drafts  of  a  possible 
tragedy  under  that  title,  two  of  them  merely  enumerating 
the  dramatis  persome,  but  the  last  two  indicating  the  plot 
and  the  division  into  acts.  Thus,  in  1640,  twenty -seven 
years  before  Paradise  Lost  was  given  to  the  world,  he  had 
put  down  the  name  on  paper,  and  had  committed  himself 
to  the  theme. 

To  tluise  poetic  dreaminga  and  schemings  there  was  to 
be  a  Ici;;  interruption.  The  Scottish  National  Covenant 
had  led  to  extraordinary  results.  Not  only  were  Charles 
and  Laud  checkmated  in  their  design  of  converting  the 
mild  Episcopal  system  .which  King  James  had  sstablished 


in  Scotland  into  a  high  Laudian  prelacy;  but,  in  a 
General  Assembly  held  at  Glasgow  in  the  end  of  1638, 
Episcopacy  had  been  utterly  abohshed  in  Scotland,  and 
the  old  Presbyterian  system  of  Knox  and  Melville  revived. 
To  avenge  this,  and  restore  the  Scottish  bishops,  Charles 
had  marched  to  the  Border  with  an  English  army ;  but, 
met  there  by  the  Covenanting  army  under  General 
Alexander  Leslie,  he  had  not  deemed  it  prudent  to  risk  a 
battle,  and  had  yielded  to  a  negotiation  conceding  to  the 
Scots  all  their  demands.  This  "  First  Bishops'  War,"  as 
it  came  to  be  called,  was  begun  and  concluded  while 
Milton  was  abroad.  About  the  time  of  his  return,  how- 
ever, Charles  had  again  broken  with  the  Scots.  Milton 
had  been  watching  the  course  of  affairs  since  then  with 
close  and  eager  interest.  He  had  seen  and  partaken  in 
the  sympathetic  stir  in  favour  of  the  Scots  which  ran 
through  the  popular  and  Puritan  mind  of  England.  He 
had  welcomed  the  practical  proof  of  this  sympathy  given 
in  thatEnglishparliamentof  April  1640,  called  "The  Short 
Parliament,"  which  Charles,  in  his  straits  for  supplies  against 
the  Scots,  had  reluctantly  summoned  at  last,  but  was 
obliged  to  dismiss  as  unmanageable.  Charles  had,  never- 
theless, with  money  raised  somehow,  entered  on  the 
"Second  Bishops'  War."  This  time  the  result  was 
momentous  indeed.  The  Scots,  not  waiting  to  be  attacked 
in  their  own  country,  took  the  aggressive,  and  invaded 
England.  In  August  1640,  after  one  small  engagement 
with  a  portion  of  Charles's  army,  they  were  in  possession 
of  Newcastle  and  of  all  the  northern  English  counties. 
The  English  then  had  their  opportunity.  A  treaty  with 
the  Scots  was  begun,  which  the  English  Puritans,  who 
regarded  their  presence  in  England  as  the  very  blessing 
they  had  been  praying  for,  were  in  no  haste  to  finish  ;  and, 
on  the  3d  of  November  1640,  there  met  that  parliament 
which  was  to  be  famous  in  English  history,  and  in  the 
history  of  the  world,  as  "  The  Long  Parliament." 

Of  the  first  proceedings  of  this  parliament,  including  the 
trial  and  execution  of  Strafford,  the  impeachment  and 
imprisonment  of  Laud  and  others,  and  the  break-down  of 
the  system  of  Thorough  by  miscellaneous  reforms  and  by 
guarantees  for  parliamentary  liberty,  Milton  was  only  a 
spectator.  It  was  when  the  church  question  emerged 
distinctly  as  the  question  paramount,  and  there  had  arisen 
divisions  in  that  question  among  those  who  had  been 
practically  unardmous  in  matters  of  civil  reform,  that  he 
plu:/ged  in  as  an  active  adviser.  There  were  three  parties 
on  the  church  question.  There  was  a  high-church  party, 
contending  for  Episcopacy  by  divine  right,  and  for  the 
maintenance  of  English  Epi.scopacy  very  much  as  it  was  ; 
there  was  a  middle  party,  defending  Episcopacy  on  grounds 
of  usage  and  oxjiodiency,  but  desiring  to  see  the  powers  of 
bishops  greatly  curtailed,  and  a  limited  Episcopacy,  ■w-itb 
councils  of  presbyters  round  each  bishop,  substituted  for 
the  existing  high  ICpiscopacy ;  and  there  was  the  root-and 
branch  party,  as  it  called  itself,  de.';iring  the  entire  abolition 
of  Episcopacy  and  the  reconstruction  of  the  English 
Church  on  something  like  the  Scotti.sh  Presbyterian  model. 
Since  the  opening  of  the  parliament  there  had  been  a  storm 
of  pamphlets  crossing  one  another  in  the  air  from  these 
three  parties.  The  chief  manifesto  of  the  high-church 
party  was  a  pamphlet  by  Joseph  Hall,  bishop  of  Exeter, 
entitled  HumUc  lienionf trance  to  the  High  Court  of 
Parliament.  In  answer  to  Hall,  and  in  representation  of 
tho  views  of  the  root-and-branch  party,  there  had  stepped 
forth,  in  March  1640—11,  five  leading  Puritan  parish 
ministers,  the  initials  of  whoso  names,  clubbed  together  on 
the  title-page  of  their  joint  production,  made  tho  uncouth 
word  "  SmectymnuiLs."  These  were  Stephen  Marshall, 
Edmund  Calaniy,  Thomas  Young,  Matthew  Newcomen, 
and  William  Spurstow.     The  Thomas  Young  whoso  name 


MILTON 


329 


comes  in  the  middle  was  no  other  than  the  Scottish 
Thomas  Young  who  had  been  Milton's  domestic  preceptor 
in  Bread  Street.  Having  returned  from  Hamburg  in 
1628,  he  had  b^en  appointed  to  the  vicarage  of  Stowmarket 
in  Suffolk,  in  which  living  he  had  remained  ever  since, 
with  the  reputation  6f  being  one  of  the  most  solid  and 
learned  Puritans  among  the  English  parish  clergy.  The 
famous  Smectymnuan  pamphlet  in  reply  to  Hall  was 
mainly  Young's.  What  is  more  interesting  is  that  his  old 
pupU  Jlilton  was  secretly  in  partnership  vrith  him  and  his 
brother-Smectymnuans.  Milton's  hand  is  discernibla  in  a 
portion  of  the  original  Smectymnuan  pamphlet ;  and  he 
continued  to  aid  the  Smectymnuans  in  their  subsequent 
rejoinders  to  Hall's  defences  of  himself.  It  was  more  in 
Milton's  way,  however,  to  appear  in  print  independently; 
and  in  May  1641,  while  the  controversy  between  Hall  and 
the  Smectymnuans  was  going  on,  he  put  forth  a  pamphlet 
of  his  own.  It  was  entitled  Of  Reformation  tcntching 
Church  Discipline  in  England  and  the  Causes  that  have 
hitherto  hindered  it,  and  consisted  of  a  review  of  English 
ecclesiastical  history,  with  an  appeal  to  his  countrymen  to 
resume  that  course  of  reformation  which  he  considered  to 
have  been  prematurely  stopped  in  the  preceding  century, 
and  to  sweep  away  the  last  relics  of  papacy  and  prelacy. 
Among  all  the  root-and-branch  pamphlets  of  the  time  it 
stood  out,  and  stands  out  stillj  as  the  most  thorough-going 
and  tremendous.  It  was  followed  by  four  others  in  rapid 
succession, — to  wit.  Of  Prelaiical  Episcopacy  and  whether 
it  may  be  deduced  from  the  Apostolical  Times  (June  1641), 
Aniniadversions  upon  t/ie  Remonstrant's  Defence  against 
Sinectymnuus  (July  1641),  The  Reason  of  Church  Govern- 
ment urged  against  Prelaty  (February  1641-42),  Apology 
against  a  Pamphlet  called  a  Modest  Confutation  of  the 
Animadversions,  itc.  (March  1641-42).  The  first  of  these 
was  directed  chieily  against  that  middle  party  which 
advocated  a  limited  Episcopacy,  with  especial  reply  to  the 
arguments  of  Archbishop  IJssher,  as  the  chief  exponent  of 
the  views  of  that  party.  Two  of  the  others,  as  the  titles 
imply,  belong  to  the  Smectymnuan  'series,  and  were 
castigations  of  Bishop  Hall.  The  greatest  of  the  four,  and 
the  most  important  of  all  Milton's  anti-Episcopal  pamphlets 
after  the  first,  is  that  entitl  d  The  Reason  of  Church 
Government.  It  is  there  that  Milton  takes  his  readers 
into  his  confidence,  speaking  at  length  of  himself  and  his 
motives  in  becoming  a  controversialist.  Poetry,  he  declares, 
was  his  real  vocation ;  it  was  with  reluctance  that  he  had 
resolved  to  "  leave  a  calm  and  pleasing  solitariness,  fed  with 
cheerful  and  confident  thoughts,  to  embark  in  a  troubled 
sea  of  noises  and  hoarse  disputes  " ;  but  duty  had  left  him 
no  option.  The  great  poem  or  poems  he  had  been  meditat- 
ing could  wait ;  and  meanwhile,  though  in  prose-polemics 
he  had  the  use  only  of  his  "  left  hand,"  that  hand  should 
be  used  with  all  its  might  in  the  cause  of  his  country  and 
of  liberty. 

The  parliament  had  advanced  in  the  root-and-branch 
direction  so  far  as  to  have  passed  a  bill  for  the  exclusion 
of  bishops  from  the  House  of  Lords,  and  compelled  the 
king's  assent  to  that  bill,  when,  in  August  1642,  the 
further  struggle  between  Charles  and  his  subjects  took  the 
form  of  civil  war.  All  England  was  then  divided  into  the 
Boyalists,  supporting  the  king,  and  the  Parliamentarians, 
adhering  to  that  majority  of  the  Commons,  with  a 
minority  of  the  Lords,  which  sat  on  as  the  parliament. 
While  the  first  battles  of  the  civil  war  were  being  fought 
with  varying  success,  this  parliament,  less  impeded  than 
■when  it  had  been  full,  moved  on  more  and  more  rapidly 
io  the  root-and-branch  direction,  till,  by  midsummer  1643, 
the  abolition  of  Episcopacy  had  been  decreed,  and  the 
question  of  the  future  non-prelatic  constitution  of  the 
Church  of  England  referred  to  a  synod  of  divines,  to  meet 


at  Westminster  under  parliamentary  authority.  Of  Milton's 
life  through  those  first  months  of  the  civil  war  Uttle  is 
known.  Ho  remained  in  his  house  in  Aldersgate  Street, 
teaching  his  nephews  and  other  pupils ;  and  the  only 
scrap  that  came  from  his  pen  was  the  semi-jocose  sonnet 
bearing  the  title  When  the  Assault  was  intended  to  the  City. 
In  the  summer  of  1643,  however,  there  was  a  great  change 
in  the  Aldersgate  Street  household.  About  the  end  of  May, 
as  his  nephew  Edward  Phillips  remembered,  Milton  went 
away  on  a  country  journey,  without  saying  whither  or  for 
what  purpose ;  and,  when  he  returned,  about  a  month 
afterwards,  it  was  with  a  young  wife,  and  with  some  of 
her  sisters  and  other  relatives  in  her  company.  He  had, 
in  fact,  been  in  the  very  headquarters  of  the  king  and  the 
Royalist  army  in  and  round  Oxford ;  and  the  bride  he 
brought  back  with  him  was  a  Mary  Powell,  the  eldest 
daughter  of  Richard  Powell,  Esq.,  of  Forest  Hill,  near 
Oxford.  She  was  the  third  of  a  family  of  eleven  sons  and 
daughters,  of  good  standing,  but  in  rather  embarrassed 
circumstances,  and  was  seventeen  years  and  four  months 
old,  while  Milton  was  in  his  thirty-fifth  year.  However 
the  marriage  came  about,  it  was  a  most  unfortunate  event. 
The  Powell  fahiily  were  strongly  Royalist,  and  the  girl 
herself  seems  to  have  been  frivolous,  unsuitable,  and 
stupid.  Hardly  were  the  honeymoon  festivities  over  in 
Aldersgate  Street  when,  her  sisters  and  other  relativesl 
having  returned  to  Forest  Hill  and 'left  her  alone  with  heri 
husband,  she  pined  for  home  again  and  begged  to-  be 
allowed  to  go  back  on  a  visit.  Milton  consented,  on  the 
understanding  that  the  visit  was  to  be  a  brief  one.  This 
seems  to  have  been  in  July  1643.  ■  Soon,  -however,  the 
intimation  from  Forest  Hill  was  that  he  need  not  look 
ever  to  have  his  wife  in  his  house  again.  The  resolution 
seems  to  have  been  mainly  the  girl's  own,  abetted  by  her 
mother ;  but,  as  the  king's  cause  was  then  prospering  in 
the  field,  it  is  a  fair  conjecture  that  the  whole  of  the 
Powell  family  had  repented  of  their  sudden  connexion  with 
so  prominent  a  Parliamentarian  and  assailant  of  the  Church 
of  England  as  Milton.  While  his  wife  was  away,  his  old 
father,  who  had  been  residing  for  three  years  ■n-ith  his 
younger  and  lawyer  son  at  Reading,  came  to  take  up  his 
quarters  in  Aldersgate  Street. 

Milton's  conduct  under  the  insult  of  his  wife's  desertion 
was  most  characteristic.  Always  fearl«ss  and  speculative, 
he  converted  his  own  case  into  a  public  protest  against  the 
existing  law  and  theory  of  marriage.  The  Doctrine  and 
Discipline  of  Divorce  Restored,  to  the  good  of  both  Sexes,  was 
the  title  of  a  pamphlet  put  forth  by  him  in  August  1643, 
without  his  name,  but  with  no  effort  at  concealment,  declar- 
ing the  notion  of  a  sacramental  sanctity  in  the  marriage 
relation  to  be  a  clerically  invented  superstition,  and  arguing 
that  inherent  incompatibility  of  character,  or  contrariety 
of  mind,  between  two  married  persons,  is  a  perfectly  just 
reason  for  divorce.  There  was  no  reference  to  his  own 
case,  except  by  implication;  but  the  boldness  of  the 
speculation  roused  attention  and  sent  a  shock  through 
London.  It  was  a  time  when  the  authors  of  heresies  of 
this  sort,  or  of  any  sort,  ran  considerable  risks.  The 
famous  Westminster  Assembly  of  Divines,  called  by  the 
Long  Parliament,  had  met  on  the  appointed  day,  July  1, 
1643;  the  Scots,  in  consenting  to  send  an  army  into 
England  to  assist  the  parliament  in  theii  war  with  the 
king,  had  proposed,  as  one  of  the  conditions,  their  Solemn 
League  and  Covenant,  binding  the  two  nations  to  endeavour 
after  a  uniformity  of  religion  and  of  ecclesiastical  discipline, 
with  the  extirpation  of  all  "  heresy,  schism,  and  profaiie- 
ness,"  as  well  as  popery  and  prelacy;  the  Solemn  League  and 
Covenant  had  been  enthusiastically  accepted  in  England, 
and  was  being  sworn  to  universally  by  the  ParUaraentarians; 
and  one  immediate  effect  was  that  four  eminent  Scottish 
XYL  —  4» 


330 


M  I  L  T  O  K" 


divines  and  two  Scottish  lay  commissoners  were  added  to 
the  Westminster  Assembly  and  became  leaders  there. 
Whether  Milton's  divorce  tract  was  formally  discussed  in 
the  Assembly  during  the  first  months  of  its  sitting  is 
unknown ;  but  it  is  certain  that  the  London  clergy, 
including  not  a  few  members  of  the  Assembly,  were  then 
talking  about  it  privately  with  anger  and  execration. 
That  there  might  be  no  obstacle  to  a  more  public  prosecu- 
tion, Milton  threw  off  the  anonymous  in  a  second  and 
much  enlarged  edition  of  the  tract,  in  February  1643-44, 
dedicated  openly  to  the  parliament  and  the  Assembly. 
Then,  for  a  month  or  two,  during  which  the  gossip  about 
him  and  his  monstrous  doctrine  was  spreading  more  and 
more,  he  turned  his  attention  to  other  subjects.  Among 
the  questions  in  agitation  in  the  general  ferment  of  opinion 
brought  about  by  the  civil  war  was  that  of  a  reform  of 
the  national  system  of  education  and  especially  of  the 
tmiversities.  To  this  question  Milton  made  a  contribution 
in  June  1644,  in  a  small  Tract  on  Education.,  in  the  form 
of  a  letter  to  Mr  Samuel  Hartlib,  a  German  then  resident 
in  London  and  interesting  himself  busily  in  all  philanthropic 
projects  and  schemes  of  social  reform.  In  the  very  next 
month,  however,  July  1644,  he  returned  to  the  divorce 
subject  in  a  pamphlet  addressed  specially  to  the  clergy 
and  entitled  The  Judgment  of  Martin  Bucer  concerning 
Divorce.  The  outcry  against  him  then  reached  its  height. 
He  was  attacked  in  pamphlets ;  he  was  denounced  in 
pulpits  all  through  London,  and  more  than  once  in  sermons 
b^ore  the  two  Houses  of  Parliament  by  prominefit  divines 
of  the  Westminster  Assembly ;  strenuous  efforts  were  made 
to  bring  him  within  definite  parUamentary  censure.  In 
the  cabal  formed  against  him  for  this  purpose  a  leading 
part  was  played,  at  the  instigation  of  the  clergy,  by  the 
Stationers'  Company  of  London.  That  company,  represent- 
ing the  publishers  and  booksellers  of  London,  had  a  plea 
of  their  own  against  him,  on  the  ground  that  his  doctrine 
was  not  only  immoral,  but  had  been  put  forth  in  an  illegal 
manner.  His  first  divorce  treatise,  though  published  imme- 
diately after  the  "  Printing  Ordinance  "  of  the  parliament 
of  June  14,  1643,  requiring  all  pubUcatiohs  to  be  licensed 
for  press  by  one  of  the  official  censors,  and  to  be  registered 
in  the  books  of  the  Stationers'  Company,  had  been  issued 
without  licence  and  without  registration.  Complaint  to 
this  effect  was  made  against  Milton,  with  some  others  liable 
to  the  same  charge  of  conlempt  of  the  printing  ordinance, 
in  ?,  petition  of  the  Stationers  to  the  House  of  Commons 
in  August  1644;  and  the  matter  came  before  committee 
both  in  that  House  and  in  the  Lords.  It  is  to  this 
circumstance  that  the  world  owes  the  most  popvdar  and 
eloquent,  if  not  the  greatest,  of  all  Milton's  prose-writings, 
his  famous  Areopagitica,  a  Speech,  of  Mr  John  Jfilton 
for  the  Liberty  of  Unlicensed  Printing  to  the  Parliament 
of  England.  It  appeared  in  the  end  of  November  1644, 
deliberately  unUcensed  and  unregistered,  as  was  proper 
on  such  an  occasion,  and  was  a  remonstrance  addressed 
to  the  parliament,  as  if  in  an  oration  to  them  face 
to  face,  against  their  ordinance  of  June  1643  and  the 
whole  system  of  licensing  and  censorship  of  the  press. 
Nobly  eulogistic  of  the  parliament  in  other  respects,  it 
denounced  their  printing  ordinance  as  utterly  unworthy  of 
them,  and  of  the  new  era  of  English  liberties  which  they 
were  initiating,  and  called  for  its  repeal.  Though  that 
effect  did  not  follow,  the  pamphlet  virtually  accomplished 
its  purpose.  The  licensing  system  had  received  its  death- 
blow ;  and,  though  the  Stationers  returned  to  the  charge 
in  another  complaint  to  tli>)  House  of  Lords,  Milton's 
offence  .igainst  the  press  ordinance  was  condoned.  He  was 
still  a  .aUed  in  pamphlets,  and  found  himself  "  in  a  world  of 
disestee;a  "  ;  but  he  lived  on  through  the  winter  of  1644-45 
undisturbed  in.  his  house  in  Aldersgate  Street.     To  this 


period  there  belong,  in  the  shape  of  verse,  only  his  sonnets 
ix.  and  x.,  the  first  to  some  anonymous  lid.v,  and  tlie 
second  "to  the  Lady  Margaret  Ley,"  with  j  l  liaps  the 
Greek  lines  entitled  Philosophus  ad  Eegem  Qi.',uiaKt. 
His  divorce  speculation,  however,  still  occupied  him ; 
and  in  March  1644—45  he  published  simultaneously  his 
Tetracliordon,  or  Expotiiunu  upon  the  four  chief  plcxa  of 
Scripture  which  treat  of  Marriage,  and  his  Cotasterion,  a 
Reply  to  a  nameless  Answer  against  the  Doilritie  and 
Discipline  of  Divorce.  In  these  he  repUed  to  Ids  chief 
recent  assailants,  lay  and  clerical,  with  mercUess  severity. 

It  was  not  merely  Milton's  intellectual  eminence  thai 
had  saved  him  from  prosecution  for  his  divorce  heresy.  A 
new  tendency  of  national  opinion  on  the  church  question 
had  operated  in  his  favour,  and  in  favour  of  all  forms  of 
free  speculation.  There  had  occurred  in  the  Westminster 
Assembly  itself,  and  more  largely  throughout  the  general 
community,  that  split  of  English  Puritanism  into  the  two 
opposed  varieties  of  Presbyteriacism  on  the  one  hand  and 
Independency  or  Congregationalism  on  the  other  which 
explains  the  whole  subsequent  history  of  the  Puritan  revo- 
lution. Out  of  this  theoretical  discussion  as  to  the  con- 
stitution of  the  church  there  had  grown  the  all-important 
practical  question  of  toleration.  The  Presbyterians  insisted 
that  the  whole  population  of  England  should  necessarily 
belong  to  the  one  national  Presbyterian  Church,  be  com- 
pelled to  attend  its  worship,  and  be  s-ibject  to  its  discipline, 
while  the  Independents  demanded  that,  if  a  Presbyterian 
Church  should  be  set  up  as  the  national  and  state-paid 
church,  there  should  at  least  be  liberty  of  dissent  from  it, 
and  toleration  for  those  that  chose  to  form  themselves- 
into  separate  congregations.  Vehement  within  the  West- 
minster Assembly  itself,  the  controversy  had  attained 
wider  dimensions  out  of  doors,  and  had  inwrought  itself 
in  a  most  remarkable  manner  with  the  conduct  of  the  war. 
Orthodox  Presbyterian  Calvinists  were  still  the  majority 
of  the  Puritan  body  ;  but,  in  the  new  atmosphere  of  hbertj-, 
there  had  sprung  up,  from  secret  and  long -suppressed  seeds 
in  the  English  mind,  a  wonderful  variety  of  sects  and 
denominations,  mingling  other  elements  with  their 
Calvinism,  or  hardly  Calvinistic  at  all, — most  of  them,  it  is 
true,  fervidly  Biblical  and  Christian  after  their  different 
sorts,  but  not  a  few  professing  the  most  coolly  inquisitive 
and  sceptical  spirit,  and  pushing  their  speculations  to 
strange  extremes  of  free-thinking.  These  sects,  growing 
more  and  more  numerous  in  the  large  tovrns,  had  become 
especially  powerful  in  the  English  Parliamentary  army. 
That  army  had,  in  fact,  become  a  marching  academy  of 
advanced  opinionists  and  theological  debaters.  Now,  as  all 
the  new  Puritan  sects,  differing  however  much  among 
themselves,  saw  their  existence  and  the  perpetuity  of  their 
tenets  threatened  by  that  .system  of  ecclesiastical  uniformity 
which  the  Presbyterians  proposed  to  establish,  they  had, 
one  and  all,  abjured  Presbyterianism,  and  adopted  the 
opposite  principle  of  Independeticy,  with  its  appended 
principle  of  toleration.  Hence  an  extraordinary  conflict 
of  policies  among  those  who  seemed  to  be  all  Parliamen- 
tarians, all  united  in  fighting  against  the  king.  The 
auxiliary  Scottish  army,  which  had  come  into  England  in 
January  1643-44,  and"  had  helped  the  English  generals  to 
beat  the  king  in  the  great  battle  of  Marston  Moor  in  July 
1644,  thought  that  he  had  then  been  almost  sufficiently 
beaten,  and  that  the  object  of  the  Solemn  League  and 
Covenant  would  be  best  attained  by  bringing  him  to  such 
terms  as  should  secure  an  immediate  Presbyterian  settle- 
ment and  the  suppression  of  the  Independents  and  sectaries. 
In  this  the  chief  English  commanders,  such  as  Essex  and 
Manchester,  agreed  substantially  with  the  Scots.  Cromwell, 
on  the  other  hand,  who  was  now  the  recognized  head  cf 
the  army  Independents,  did  not  think  that  the  king  ha^ 


MILTON 


331 


been  ou£5ciently  beaten,  even  for  the  general  purposes  of 
the  war,  and  was  resolved  that  tho  war  should  be  pushed 
on  to  a  point  at  which  a  Presbyterian  settlement  should  bo 
impossible  without  guarantees  for  liberty  of  conscience  and 
a  toleration  of  non-Presbyteriajx  sects.  Through  tho  latter 
part  of  1644,  accordingly,  Milton  had  been  ;:aved  from  the 
penalties  which  his  Presbyterian  opponents  would  have 
inflicted  on  him  by  this  general  championship  of  liberty  of 
opinion  by  Cromwell  and  the  army  Independents.  Before 
the  middio  of  1645  he,  with  others  who  wore  on  the 
black  ^ooks  of  tho  Presbyterians  as  heretics,  was  safer 
still.  Though  the  parliament  had  voted,  in  January 
1644-45,  that  the  future  national  chui'ch  of  England  should 
be  on  the  Presbyterian  system,  Cromwell  and  the  Inde- 
pendents had  taken  care  to  have  the  question  of  tolera- 
tion left  open ;  and,  within  the  next  month  or  two,  by 
Cromwell's  exertions,  a  .completely  new  face  was  put  upon 
tho  war  by  the  removal  of  all  the  chief  officers  that  had 
been  in  command  hitherto,  and  the  eqiiipment  of  the 
New  Model  army,  with  Fairfax  as  its  commander-in-chief 
and  Cromwell  himself  as  lieutsmant-general.  The  Scots 
and  the  stricter  English  Presbyterians  looked  on  malignantly 
while  this  army  took  the  field,  calling  it  an  "  Army  of 
Sectaries,"  and  almost  hoping  it  would  be  beaten.  On 
June  14,  1645,  however,  there  was  fought  the  great  battle 
of  Naseby,  utterly  ruining  the  king  at  last,  and  leaving 
only  relics  of  his  forces  hero  and  there.  Milton's  position 
then  may  be  easily  understood.  Though  his  first  tendency 
on  the .  church  question  had  been  to  somo  form  of  a 
Presbyterian  constitution  for  the  church,  he  had  parted 
utterly  now  from  the  Scots  and  Presbyterians,  and  become 
a  partisan  of  Independency,  having  no  dread  of  "  sects  and 
schisms,"  but  regarding  them  rather  as  healthy  signs  in 
the  English  body-poHtic.  He  was,  indeed,  himself  one  of 
the  most  noted  sectaries  of  the  time,  for  in  the  lists  of 
.■iects  drawn  out  by  contemporary  Presbyterian  vn'iters 
special  mention  is  made  of  one  small  sect  who  were  known 
as  MilionisU  or  Divorcers. 

So  far  as  Milton  was  concerned  personally,  his  interest 
in  the  divorce  speculation  came  to  an  end  in  July  or 
August  1645,  when,  by  friendly  interference,  a  reconcilia- 
tion was  effected  between  him  and  his  wife.  The  ruin  of 
the  king's  cause  at  Naseby  had  suggested  to  the  Powells 
that  it  might  be  as  well  for  their  daughter  to  go  back  to  her 
husband  after  their  two  years  of  separation.  It  was  not, 
however,  in  the  house  in  Aldersgate  Street  that  she  rejoined 
him,  but  in  a  larger  house,  which  he  had  taken  in  the 
adjacent  street  called  Barbican,  for  the  accommodation  of 
an  increasing  number  of  pupils. 

The  house  in  Barbican  was  tenanted  by  Milton  from 
about  August  1645  to  September  or  October  1647.  Among 
his  first  occupations  there  must  have  been  the  revision  of 
the  proof  sheets  of  the  first  edition  of  his  collected  poems. 
It  appeared  as  a  tiny  volume,  copies  of  which  are  now  very 
rare,  with  the  title  Poems  of  Mr  John  Milton,  both  English 
(ind  Latin,  composed  at  several  times.  The  title-page  gives 
the  date  1645,  but  January  1645-46  seems  to  have  been 
the  exact  month  of  the  publication.  The  appearance  of 
the  volume  indicates  that  Jlilton  may  have  been  a  little 
tired  by  this  time  of  his  notoriety  as  a  prose-polemic,  and 
desirous  of  being  recognized  once  more  in  his  original 
character  of  literary  man  and  poet.  But,  whether  because 
bis  pedagogic  duties  now  engrossed  him  or  for  other  reasons, 
very  few  new  pieces  were  added  in  the  Barbican  to  those 
that  the  Uttle  volume  had  thus  made  public.  In  English, 
there  were  only  the  four  sonnets  now  numbered  xi.-xiv.,  the 
firtt  two  entitled  "  On  the  Detraction  which  followed  upon 
my  writing  certain  Treatises,"  the  third  "To  Mr  Henry 
Lawes  on  his  Airs,"  and  the  fourth  "To  the  Religious 
Memory  of  Mrs  Catherine  Thomson,"  together  with  the 


powerful  anti-Presbyterian  invective  or  "tailed  sonnet"' 
entitled  "On  the  New  Forcers  of  Conscience  under  the 
Long  Parliament";  and  in  Latin  there  were  only  the  ode 
Ad  Joannem  Housium,  the  trifle  called  Apologvs  de 
Bustico  et  Hero,  and  one  interesting  Familitir  £/nstle 
addressed  to  his  Florentine  friend  Carlo  Dati.  Some 
family  incidents  of  importance,  however,  appertain  to  this 
time  of  residence  in  Barbican.  Oxford  having  surrendered 
to  Fairfax  in  June  1646,  the  whole  of  the  Powell  family 
had  to  seek  refuge  in  London,  and  most  of  them  found 
shelter  in  Milton's  house.  His  first  child,  a  daughter 
named  Anne,  was  born  there  on  the  29th  of  July  that 
year;  on  the  1st  of  January  1646-47  his  father-in-law  Mr 
Powell  died  there,  leaving  his  affairs  in  confusion  ;  and  in 
the  following  March  his  own  father  died  there,  at  the  age 
of  eighty-four,  and  was  buried  in  the  adjacent  church  of  St 
Giles,  Cripplegate.  For  the  rest,  the  two  years  in  Barbican 
are  nearly  blank  in  Milton's  biography.  The  great 
Revolution  was  still  running  its  course.  For  a  time 
Charle.s's  surrender  of  himself,  in  May  1646,  to  the  auxiliary 
Scottish  army  rather  than  to  Fairfax  and  Cromwell,  and 
his  residence  with  that  Scottish  army  at  Newcastle  in 
negotiation  with  the  Scots,  had  given  the  Presbyterians 
the  advantage ;  but,  after  the  Scots  had  evacuated  England 
in  January  1646-47,  leaving  Charles  a  captive  with  hi« 
EngUsh  subjects,  and  especially  after  the  English  army  had 
seized  him  at  Holmby  in  June  1647  and  undertaken  the 
further  management  of  the  treaty  with  him,  the  advantage 
was  all  the  other  way.  It  was  a  satisfaction  to  Milton, 
and  perhaps  still  a  protection  for  him,  that  the  "  Army  of 
Independents  and  Sectaries"  had  come  to  bo  really  the 
masters  of  England. 

From  Barbican  Milton  removed,  in  September  or- 
October  1647,  to  a  smaller  house  in  that  part  of  High 
Holborn  which  adjoins  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields.  His  Powell 
relatives  had  now  left  him,  and  he  had  reduced  the 
number  of  his  pupils,  or  perhaps  kept  only  his  two 
nephews.  But,  though  thus  more  at  leisure,  he  did  not 
yet  resume  liis  projected  poem,  but  occupied  himself 
rather  with  three  works  of  scholarly  labour  which  he  had 
already  for  some  time  had  on  hand.  One  was  the  com- 
pilation in  English  of  a  complete  history  of  England,  or 
rather  of  Great  Britain,  from  the  earliest  times ;  another 
was  the  preparation  in  Latin  of  a  complete  system  of 
divinity,  dra.vra  directly  from  the  Bible ;  and  the  third  was 
the  collection  of  materials  for  a  new  Latin  dictionary. 
Milton  had  always  a  fondness  for  such  labours  of  scholar- 
ship and  compilation.  Of  a  poetical  kind  there  is  nothing 
to  record,  during  his  residence  in  High  Holborn,  but  an 
experiment  in  psalm-translation,  in  the  shape  of  Psalms 
Ixxx.-lxxxviii.  done  into  service-metre  in  April  1648,  and 
the  Sonnet  to  Fairfax,  written  in  September  of  the  same 
year. — This  last  connects  him  again  with  the  course  of 
public  affairs.  The  king,  having  escaped  from  the  custody 
of  the  army  chiefs,  and  taken  refuge  in  the  Isle  of  Wight, 
had  been  committed  to  closer  custody  there ;  all  negotia- 
tion between  him  and  parliament  had  been  declared  at  an 
end ;  and  the  result  would  probably  have  been  his  deposi- 
tion, but  for  the  consequences  of  a  secret  treaty  he  hnd 
contrived  to  make  with  the  Scots.  By  this  treaty  the 
Scots  engaged  to  invade  England  in  the  king's  behalf, 
rescue  him  from  the  English  parliament  and  army,  and 
restore  him  to  his  full  royalty,  while  he  engaged  in  return 
to  ratify  the  Covenant,  the  Presbyterian  system  of  church 
government,  and  all  the  other  conclusions  of  tho  West- 
minster Assembly,  throughoi^t  England,  and  to  put 
down  Independency  and  the  sects.  Thus,  in  May  1648, 
began  what  is  called  the  Second  Civil  War,  consisting  first 
of  new  risings  of  the  Royalists  in'  various  parts  of  England, 
and  then  of  a  conjunction  of  these  with  a  great  invasioa 


332 


MILTON 


of  England  by  a  Royalist  Scottish  army,  under  the  command 
of  the  duke  of  Hamilton.  It  was  all  over  in  August 
1648,  when  the  crushing  defeat  of  the  Scottish  army  by 
Cromwell  in  the  three  days'  battle  of  Preston,  and  the 
simultaneous  suppression  of  the  English  Royalist  insur- 
rection in  the  south-east  counties  by  Fairfax's  siege  and 
capture  of  Colchester,  left  Charles  at  the  mercy  of  the 
victors. — Milton's  Sonnet  to  Fairfax  was  a  congratulation 
to  that  general-in-chief  of  the  parliament  on  his  success  at 
Colchester,  and  attested  the  exultation  of  the  writer  over 
the  triumph  of  the  Parliamentary  cause.  His  exultation 
continued  through  what  followed.  After  one  more  dying 
effort  of  the  parliament  at  negotiation  with  Charles,  the 
army  took  the  whole  business  on  itself.  The  king  was 
brought  from  the  Isle  of  Wight ;  the  parliament,  manipu- 
lated by  the  army  officers,  and  purged  of  all  members 
likely  to  impede  the  army's  purpose,  was  converted  into 
An  instrument  for  that  purpose ;  a  court  of  high  justice 
■was  set  up  for  the  trial  of  Charles ;  and  on  January 
30,  1648-49,  he  was  brought  to  the  scaffold  in  front  of 
"Whitehall.  By  that  act  England  became  a  republic, 
governed,  without  King  or  House  of  Lords,  by  the  persever- 
ing residue  or  "  Rump  "  of  the  recent  House  of  Commons, 
in  conjunction  with  an  executive  council  of  state,  composed 
of  forty-one  members  appointed  annually  by  that  House. 

The  first  Englishman  of  mark  out  of  parliament  to 
attach  himself  openly  to  the  new  republic  was  John 
Mlton.  This  he  did  by  the  publication  of  his  pamphlet 
entitled  Tenure  of  Kings  and  Magistrates,  proving  that  it  is 
lawful,  and  hath  been  held  so  in  all  ages,  for  any  who  have  the 
power,  to  call  to  account  a  Tyrant  or  wiclced  King,  and, 
after  due  conviction,  to  depose  and  put  him  to  death,  if  the 
ordinary  Magistrate  have  neglected  to  do  it.  It  was  out 
within  a  fortnight  after  the  king's  death,  and  was  Milton's 
Jast  performance  in  the  house  in  High  Holborn.  The  chiefs 
of  the  new  republic  could  not  but  perceive  the  importance 
of  securing  the  services  of  a  man  who  had  so  opportunely 
and  so  powerfully  spoken  out  in  favour  of  their  tremendous 
act,  and  who  was  othcrmse  so  distinguished.  In  March 
1648-49,  accordingly,  Jlilton  was  offered,  and  accepted,  the 
secretaiyship  for  foreign  tongues  to  the  council  of  state 
of  the  new  Commonwealth.  The  salary  was  to  be  £288  a 
year,  worth  about  £1000  a  year  now.  To  be  near  his  new 
duties  in  attendance  on  the  council,  which  held  its  daily 
sittings  for  the  first  few  weeks  in  Derby  House,  close  to 
TVhitehall,  but  afterwards  regidarly  in  Whitehall  itself,  he 
removed  at  once  to  temporary  lodgings  at  Charing  Cross. 
In  the  very  first  meetings  of  council  which  Milton  attended 
le  must  have  made  personal  acquaintance  with  President 
Bradshaw,  Fairfax,  Cromwell  himself.  Sir  Henry  Vane, 
"Whitlocke,  Henry  Marten,  Hasilrig,  Sir  Gilbert  Pickering, 
and  the  other  chiefs  of  the  council  and  the  Commonwealth, 
if  indeed  he  had  not  known  some  of  them  before.  After  a 
little  while,  for  his  greater  convenience,  official  apartments 
■were  assigned  him  in  Whitehall  itself. 

At  the  date  of  Milton's  appointment  to  the  secretaryship 
he  was  forty  years  of  age.  His  special  duty  was  the 
drafting  of  such  letters  as  were  sent  by  the  council  of 
state,  or  sometimes  by  the  Rump  Parliament,  to  foreign 
states  and  princes,  with  the  examination  and  translation 
of  letters  in  reply,  and  with  personal  conferences,  when 
necessary,  with  the  agents  of  foreign  jxiwers  in  London, 
and  with  envoys  and  ambassadors.  As  Ijatin  was  the 
language  employed  in  the  written  diplomatic  documents, 
his  post  came  to  be  known  indifferently  as  the  sccretaryslii]) 
for  foreign  tongues  or  the  Ijatin  secretaryship.  In  that 
post,  however,  his  duties,  more  particularly  at  first,  were 
•very  light  in  comparison  with  those  of  his  official  colleague, 
^Ir  Walter  Frost,  the  general  secretary.  Foreign  powers 
-held  aloof  from  the  English  republic  as  much  as  they  could ; 


and,  while  Mr  Frost  had  to  be  present  in  every  meeting  of 
the  councU,  keeping  the  minutes,  and  conducting  all  the 
general  correspondence,  Milton's  presence  was  required 
only  when  some  piece  of  foreign  busi.ness  did  turn  up. 
Hence,  from  the  first,  his  employment  in  very  miscel- 
laneous work.  Especially,  the  council  looked  to  him  for 
everything  in  the  nature  of  literary  vigilance  and  literary 
help  in  the  interests  of  the  struggling  Commonwealth.  Ha 
was  employed  in  the  examination  of  suspected  papers,  and 
in  interviews  vi-ith  their  authors  and  printers;  and  he 
executed  several  great  literary  commis.sions  expressly 
entrusted  to  him  by  the  council.  The  first  of  these  was 
his  pamphlet  entitled  Observations  on  Ormond's  Articles  of 
Peace  uith  the  Irish  Rebels.  It  was  published  in  May 
1649,  and  was  in  defence  of  the  repubUc  against  a 
complication  of  Royalist  intrigues  and  dangers  in  Ireland. 
A  passage  of  remarkable  interest  in  it  is  one  of  eloquent 
eulogy  on  Cromwell.  More  important  still  was  the 
Eikonol-lastes  (which  may  be  translated  "  Image-Smasher  "), 
published  by  Milton  in  October  1649,  by  way  of 
counterblast  to  the  famous  £ik-07i  Basilike  ("Royal 
Image "),  which  had  been  in  circulation  in  thousands  of 
copies  since  the  king's  death,  and  had  become  a  kind  cf 
Bible  in  aU  Royalist  households,  on  the  supposition  that  it 
had  been  ■nTitten  by  the  royal  martyr  himself.  A  third 
piece  of  work  was  of  a  more  laborious  nature.  In  the 
end  of  1649  there  appeared  abroad,  under  the  title  of 
Defensio  Regia  pro  Carolo  I.,  a  Latin  vindication  of  the 
memory  of  Charles,  vdth  an  attack  on  the  English  Com- 
monwealth, intended  for  circulation  on  the  Continent.  As 
it  had  been  written,  at  the  instance  of  the  exiled  royal 
family,  by  Salmasius,  or  Claude  de  Saumaise,  of  Leyden, 
then  of  enormous  celebrity  over  Europe  as  the  greatest 
scholar  of  his  age,  it  was  regarded  as  a  serious  blow  to  the" 
infant  Commonwealth.  To  answer  it  was  thought  a  task 
worthy  of  Milton,  and  he  threw  his  whole  strength  into  the 
performance  through  the  year  1650,  interrupting  himself 
only  by  a  new  and  enlarged  edition  of  his  Kikonoklastes. 
Not  till  April  1651  did  the  result  appear  ;  but  then  the  suc- 
cess was  prodigious.  Milton's  Latin  Pro  Populo  Anglicann 
Defensio,  as  it  was  called,  ran  at  once  over  the  British 
Islands  and  the  Continent,  rousing  acclamation  everywhere, 
and  received  by  scholars  as  an  annihilation  of  the  great 
Salmasius.  Through  the  rest  of  1651  the  observation  was 
that  the  two  agencies  which  had  co-operated  most  visibly 
in  raising  the  reputation  of  the  Commonwealth  abroad 
were  Milton's  books  and  Cromwell's  battles. — These  battles 
of  Cromwell,  in  the  service  of  the  Commonwealth  he  had 
founded,  had  kept  him  absent  from  the  council  of  state, 
of  which  he  was  still  a  member,  since  shortly  after  the 
beginning  of  Milton's  secretaryship.  For  nearly  a  year  ho 
had  been  in  Ireland,  as  lord  lieutenant,  reconquering  that 
country  after  its  long  rebellion  ;  and  then,  for  anotlier 
year,  ho  had  been  in  Scotland,  crushing  the  Royalist 
commotion  there  round  Charles  11.,  and  annexing  Scotland 
to  the  English  republic.  ■  The  annexation  was  complete  on 
the  3d  of  September  1651,  when  Cromwell,  chasing 
Charles  II.  and  his  army  out  of  Scotland,  came  up  with 
them  at  Worcester  and  gained  his  crowning  victory.  The 
Commonwealth  then  consisted  of  England,  Ireland,  and 
Scotland,  and  Cromwell  was  its  supreme  chief. — Through 
the  eventful  year  1651,  it  has  been  recently  ascertained, 
Milton  had  added  to  the  other  duties  of  his  secretaryshi)i 
that  of  Government  journalist.  Through  the  whole  of  tliat 
year,  if  not  from  an  earlier  period,  he  acfcd  as  licenser  and 
superintending  editor  of  the  Mcrcuritts  Politicus,  a  news- 
paper issued  twice  a  week,  of  which  Mr  JIarchamont 
Needham  was  the  working  editor  and  proprietor.  Milton's 
hand  is  discernible  in  some  of  the  leading  articles. 

About  the  end  of  1G51  Milton  left  his  oflScial  rooms  in 


MILTON 


333 


Whitehall  for  a  Ijpuse  he  had  taken  on  the  edge  of  St 
James's  Park,  in  -what  was  then  called  Petty  France, 
Westminster,  but  is  now  York  Street.  The  house  existed 
till  the  other  day,  but  has  been  pulled  down.  In  Hilton's 
time  it  was  a  villa-looking  residence,  with  a  garden,  in 
a  neighbourhood  of  villas  and  gardens.  He  had  now 
more  to  do  in  the  special  work  of  his  office,  in  consequence 
of  the  increase  of  correspondence  with  foreign  powers. 
But  he  had  for  some  time  been  in  ailing  health ;  and  a 
dimness  of  eyesight  which  had  been  growing  upon  him 
gradually  for  ten  years  had  been  settling  rapidly,  since  his 
labour  over  the  answer  to  Salmasius,  into  total  blindness. 
Actually,  before  or  about  May  1652,  when  he  was  but  in 
his  forty-fourth  year,  his  blindness  was  total,  and  he  could 
go  about  only  with  some  one  to  lead  him.  Hence  a  re- 
arrangement of  his  secretarial  duties.  Such  of  these  duties 
as  he  could  perform  at  home,  or  by  occasional  visits  to  the 
Council  Office  near,  he  continued  to  perform  ;  but  much  of 
the  routine  work  was  done  for  him  by  assistants,  one  of 
them  a  well-known  German  named  Weckhcrlin,' under  the 
superintendence  of  Mr  John  Thurloe,  who  had  succeeded 
Mr  Walter  Frost  in  the  general  secretaryship.  Precisely 
to  this  time  of  a  lull  in  Milton's  secretaryship  on  account 
of  his  ill-health  and  blindness  we  have  to  refer  his  two 
great  companion  sonnets  To  the  Lord  General  Cromviell 
and  To  Sir  Henry  Fane  the  Younger.  To  about  the  same 
time,  or  more  precisely  to  the  interval  between  May  and 
September  1652,  though  the  exact  date  Ls  uncertain,  we 
have  to  refer  the  death  of  his  only  son,  who  had  been  born 
in  his  official  Whitehall  apartments  in  the  JIarch  of  the 
preceding  year,  and  the  death  also  of  his  wife,  just  after 
she  had  given  birth  to  his  third  daughter,  Deborah.  With 
the  three  children  thus  left  him, — Anne,  but  six  years  old, 
Mary,  not  four,  and  the  infant  Deborah, — the  bUnd 
widower  lived  on  in  his  house  in  Petty  France  in  such 
desolation  as  can  be  imagined.  He  had  recovered  suffici- 
ently to  Resume  his  secretarial  duties;  and  the  total  num- 
ber of  his  dictated  state  letters  for  the  single  year  1652 
is  equal  to  that  of  all  the  state  letters  of  his  preceding 
term  of  secretaryship  put  together.  To  the  same  year 
there  belong  also  three  of  has  Latin  Familiar  Epistles. 
In  December  1652  there  was  published  Joannis  Philippi 
A  tiff  U  Respomio  ad  Apologiam  Anoyiymi  Cvjusdani  Tene- 
brionis,  being  a  reply  by  Milton's  younger  nephew,  John 
Phillips,  but  touched  up  by  Milton  himself,  to  one  of 
several  pamphlets  that  had  ajjpeared  against  Milton  for  his 
slaughter  of  Salmasius.  The  ablest  and  most  scurrilous 
of  these,  which  had  just  appeared  anonymously  at  the 
Hague,  with  the  title  Jiegii  Sanguinis  Clamor  ad  Coilum 
adversus  Parricidas  Anglicanos  ("Cry  of  the  Royal  Blood 
to  Heaven  against  the  Enghsh  Parricides "),  Milton  was 
reserving  for  his  own  attention  at  his  leisure. 

On  the  20th  of  April  1653  there  was  Cromwell's  great 
act  of  ai-med  interference  by  which  he  turned  out  the  small 
remnant  of  the  Eump  Parliament,  dismissed  their  council 
of  state,  and  assumed  the  government  of  England,  Ireland, 
and  Scotland  into  his  own  hands.  For  several  months, 
indeed,  he  acted  only  as  interim  dictator,  governing  by  a 
council  of  his  officers,  and  waiting  for  the  conclusions  of 
that  select  body  of  advisers  which  he  had  called  together 
from  all  parts  of  the  country,  and  which  the  Royalists 
nicknamed  "The  Barebones  Parliament."  In  December 
1653,  however,  his  formal  sovereignty  began  under  the 
iiame  of  the  Protectorate,  passing  gradually  into  more  than 
kingship.  This  change  from  government  by  the  Rump  I 
and  its  council  to  government  by  a  single  military  Lord 
Protector  and  his  council  was  regarded  by  many  as  treason 
to  the  republican  cause,  and  divided  those  who  had  hitherto  I 
been  the  united  Commonwealth's  men  into  the  "  Pure  Re-  I 
publicans,"  represented  by  such  men  as  Bradshaw  and  Vane, 


and  the  "  Oliverians,"  adhering  to  l!io  Protector.  Milton, 
whose  boundless  admiration  of  Cromwell  had  shown  itself 
already  in  his  Irish  tract  of  1619  and  in  his  recent  sonnet, 
was  recognized  as  one  of  the  Oliverians.  He  remained  in 
Oliver's  service  and  was  his  Latin  secretary  through  the 
whole  of  the  Protectorate.  For  a  while,  indeed,  his  Latin 
letters  to  foreign  states  in  Cromwell's  name  were  but  few, — - 
Mr  Thurloe,  as  general  secretary,  officiating  as  Oliver's 
right-hand  man  in  everything,  with  a  ilr  Philip  Meadows 
under  him,  at  a  salary  of  £200  a  year,  as  deputy  for  the 
blind  Mr  Milton  in  foreign  correspondence  and  translations. 
The  reason  for  this  temporary  exemption  of  Milton  from 
routine  duty  may  have  been  that  he  was  then  engaged  on 
an  answer,  by  commission  from  the  late  Government,  to 
the  already-mentioned  pamphlet  from  the  Hague  entitled 
Eegii  Sanguinis  Clamor.  Salmasius  was  now  dead,  and 
the  Commonwealth  was  too  stable  to  suffer  from  such 
attacks ;  but  no  Royalist  pamphlet  had  appeared  so  able 
or  so  venomous  as  this  in  continuation  of  the  Salmasian 
controversy.  All  the  rather  because  it  was  in  the  main  a 
libel  on  ililton  himself  did  a  reply  from  his  pen  seem 
necessary.  It  came  out  in  May  leS-l,  with  the  title 
Joannis  Miltoni  Angli  pro  Populo  Anglicano  Defeiisio 
iSVrancfa  ("Second  Defence  of  John  Milton,  Englishman, 
for  the  People  of  England  ").  It  is  one  of  the  most  inter- 
esting of.all  Milton's  writings.  The  author  of  the  libel  to 
which  it  replied  was  Dr  Peter  du  Moulin  the  younger,  a 
naturalized  French  Presbj-terian  minister,  then  moving 
about  in  EngUsh  society,  close  to  Milton  ;  but,  as  that  was 
a  profound  secret,  and  the  work  was  universally  attributed 
on  the  Continent  to  an  Alexander  Morns,  a  French 
minister  of  Scottish  descent,  then  of  much  oratorical 
celebrity  in  Holland, — who  had  certainly  managed  the 
printing  in  consultation  with  the  now  deceased  Salmasius, 
and  had  contributed  some  portion  of  the  matter, — Milton 
had  made  this  Morus  the  responsible  person  and  the  one 
object  of  his  castigations.  'They  were  frightful  enough. 
If  Salmasius  had  been  slaughtered  in  the  former  Defensio, 
Morus  was  murdered  and  gashed  in  this.  His  moral 
character  was  blasted  by  exposure  of  his  antecedents,  and 
he  was  blazoned  abroad  in  Europe  as  a  detected  clerical 
blackguard.  The  terrific  castigation  of  Moms,  however, 
is  but  part  of  the  Defensio  Secunda.  It  contains  passages 
of  singular  autobiographical  and  historical  value,  and 
includes  laudatory  sketches  of  such  eminent  Common- 
wealth's men  as  Bradshaw,  Fairfax,  Fleetwood,  Lambert, 
and  Overton,  together  mth  a  long  panegyric  on  Cromwell 
himself  and  his  career,  which  remains  to  this  day  unap- 
proached  for  elaboration  and  grandeur  by  any  estimate  of 
Cromwell  from  any  later  pen.  From  about  the  date  of  the 
publication  of  the  Dn/ensio  Secunda  to  the  beginning  of 
1655  the  only  specially  Uterary  relics  of  Milton's  hfe  are 
his  translations  of  Psalms  i.-viii.  in  different  metres,  done 
in  August  1654,  his  translation  of  Horace's  Ode  i.  5,  done 
probably  about  the  same  time,  and  two  of  his  Latin 
Familiar  Epistles,  The  most  active  time  of  his  secretary- 
ship for  Oliver  was  from  April  1655  onwards.  In  that 
month,  in  the  course  of  a  general  revision  of  official  salaries 
under  the  Protectorate,  Milton's  salary  of  £288  a  year 
hitherto  was  reduced  to  £200  a  year,  with  a  kind  of  re- 
definition of  his  office,  recognizing  it,  we  may  say,  as  a 
Latin  secretaryship  extraordinary.  Mr  Philip  Meadows 
was  to  continue  to  do  all  the  ordinary  Foreign  Office  work, 
under  Thurloe's  inspection ;  but  Milton  was  to  be  called 
in  on  special  occasions.  Hardly  was  the  arrangement 
made  when  a  signal  occasion  did  occur.  In  May  1655  all 
England  was  horrified  by  the  news  of  the  massacre  of  the 
Vaudois  Protestants  by  the  troops  of  Emanuele  IL,  duke 
of  Savoy  and  prince  of  Piedmont,  in  consequence  of  their 
disobedience  to  an  edict  requiring  them  either  to  leave 


334 


MILTON 


•their  native  valleys  or  to  conform  to  the  Catholic  religion. 
Cromwell  and  his  council  took  the  matter  up  with  all  their 
energy  ;  and  the  burst  of  indignant  letters  on  the  subject 
despatched  in  that  month  and  the  next  to  the  duke  of 
Savoy  himself,  Louis  XIV.  of  France,  Cardinal  Mazarin,  the 
Swiss  cantons,  the  States-General  of  the  United  Provinces, 
and  the  kings  of  Sweden  and  Denmark,  were  all  by  Milton. 
His  famous  sonnet  On  the  late  'Massacre  in  Piedmont  was 
his  more  private  expression  of  feehng  on  the  same  occasion. 
'This  sonnet  was  in  circulation,  and  the  case  of  the  Vaudois 
Protestants  was  still  occupying  Cromwell,  when,  in  August 
1655,  there  appeared  the  last  of  Milton's  great  Latin 
pamphlets.  It  was  his  Pro  Se  Defensio,  in  answer  to  an 
.■elaborate  self-defence  which  Morus  had  put  forth  on  the 
Continent  since  Milton's  attack  on  his  character,  and  it  con- 
sisted mainly  of  a  re-exposure  of  that  unfortunate  clergy- 
man. Thence,  through  the  rest  of  Cromwell's  Protectorate, 
Milton's  life  was  of  comparatively  calm  tenor.  He  was  in 
much  better  health  than  usual,  bearing  his  blindness  with 
•courage  and  cheerfulness ;  ho  was  steadily  busy  with  such 
more  important  despatches  to  foreign  powers  as  the  Pro- 
tector, then  in  the  height  of  his  great  foreign  policy,  and 
regarded  with  fear  and  deference  by  all  European  monarchs 
and  states  from  Gibraltar  to  the  Baltic,  chose  to  confide  to 
him ;  and  his  house  in  Petty  France  seems  to  have  been, 
more  than  at  any  previous  time  since  the  beginning  of  Kia 
blindness,  a  meeting-place  for  friends  and  visitors,  and  a 
scene  of  pleasant  hospitalities.  The  four  sonnets  now 
numbered  xix.-xxii.,  one  of  them  to  young  Mr  Lawrence, 
the  son  of  the  president  of  Cromwell's  council,  and  two  of 
the  others  to  Cyriack  Skinner,  belong  to  this  time  of  domestic 
quiet,  as  do  also  no  fewer  than  ten  of  his  Latin  Familiar 
Epistles.  His  second  marriage  belongs  to  the  same  years, 
and  gleams  even  yet  as  the  too  brief  consummation  of  this 
happiest  time  in  the  blind  man's  life.  The  name  of  his 
second  wife  was  Katharine  Woodcock.  He  married  her 
on  the  12th  of  November  1656;  but,  after  only  fifteen 
months,  he  was  again  a  widower,  by  her  death  in  childbirth 
in  February  1657-58.  The  child  dying  with  her,  only  the 
three  daughters  by  the  first  marriage  remained.  The 
touching  sonuet  which  closes  the  series  of  Milton's  Sonnets 
is  his  sacred  tribute  to  the  memory  on  his  second  marriage 
and  to  the  virtues  of  the  mfe  he  had  so  soon  lost.  Even 
after  that  loss  we  find  him  still  busy  for  Cromwell.  Mr 
Meadows  having  been  sent  off  on  diplomatic  missions, 
Andrew  Marvell  had,  in  September  1657,  been  brought  in, 
much  to  Milton's  satisfaction,  as  his  assistant  or  colleague 
in  the  Latin  secretaryship ;  but  this  had  by  no  means 
relieved  him  from  duty.  Some  of  his  greatest  despatches 
for  Cromwell,  including  letters,  of  the  highest  importance, 
to  Louis  XIV.,  Mazarin,  and  Charles  Gustavus  of  Sweden, 
belong  to  the  year  1658. 

One  would  like  to  know  precisely  in  what  personal 
relations  Milton  and  Cromwell  stood  to  each  other.  There 
i.-i,  unfortunately,  no  direct  record  to  show  what  Cromwell 
thought  of  Milton  ;  but  there  is  ani|iIo  record  of  what 
Milton  thought  of  Cromwell.  "Our  chief  of  men,"  he 
had  called  Cromwell  in  his  sonnet  of  .M.iy  XG.rl ;  and  the 
opinion  remained  unchanged.  Ho  thought  Cromwell  the 
greatest  and  best  man  of  his  generation,  or  of  many 
generations;  and  he  regarded  Cromwell's  as.sumption  of 
tho  supreme  power,  and  hi.s  retention  of  that  power  with  a 
sovereign  title,  as  no  real  suppression  of  the  republic,  but 
as  absolutely  nece-ssary  for  tho  preservation  of  the  republic, 
and  for  tho  safeguard  of  the  Briti.sh  Islands  against  a 
return  of  the  Stuarts.  Nevertheless,  under  this  prodigious 
admiration  of  Cromwell,  there  were  political  doubts  and 
reserves.  Milton  was  so  much  of  a  modern  radical  of  tho 
•  extreme  school  in  his  own  political  views  and  sympathies 
that  he  cannot  but  have  been  vexed  by  tho  growing  con- 


servatism of  Cromwell's  policy  through  his  Protectorate.  To' 
his  grand  panegj'ric  on  Oliver  in  the  Defensio  Secunda  of 
1654  he  had  ventured  to  append  cautions  against  self-will, 
over-legislation,  and  over-policing ;  and  he  cannot  have 
thought  that  OUver  had  been  immaculate  in  these  respects 
through  the  four  subsequent  years.  The  attempt  to  revive 
an  aristocracy  and  a  House  of  Lords,  on  which  Cromwell 
was  latterly  bent,  cannot  have  been  to  Milton's  taste. 
Above  all,  ^lilton  dissented  in  loto  from  Cromwell's  church 
policy.  It  was  Milton's  fixed  idea,  almost  his  deepest 
idea,  that  there  should  be  no  such  thing  as  an  Established 
Church,  or  state-paid  clergy,  of  any  sort  or  denomination  or 
mixture  of  denomination.s,  in  any  nation,  and  that,  as  it 
had  been  the  connexion  between  church  and  state,  begun 
by  Constantino,  that  had  vitiated  Christianity  in  the  world, 
and  kept  it  vitiated,  so  Christianity  would  never  flourish  as 
it  ought  till  there  had  been  universal  disestablishment  and 
disendowment  of  the  clergy,  and  the  propagation  of  the 
gospel  were  left  to  the  zeal  of  voluntary  pastors,  self-sup- 
|)ortcd,  or  sujiported  modestly  by  their  flocks.  He  had  at 
one  time  looked  to  Cromwell  as  the  likeliest  man  to  carry 
this  great  revolution  in  England.  But  Cromwell,  after 
much  meditation  on  the  subject  in  1652  and  1653,  had 
come  to  the  opposite  conclusion.  The  conservation  of  the 
Establi.shcd  Church  of  England,  in  the  form  of  a  broad 
union  of  all  evangelical  denominations  of  Christians,  whether 
Presbyterians,  or  Independents,  or  Baptists,  or  moderate 
Old  Anglicans,  that  would  accept  state-pay  with  state- 
control,  had  been  the  fundamental  notion  of  his  Protec- 
torate, persevered  in  to  the  end.  This  must  have  been 
MUton's  deepest  disappointment  with  the  Olivcrian  rule. 

Cromwell's  death  on  the  3d  of  September  165S  left  the 
Protectorship  to  his  son  Richard.  Milton  and  Marvell 
continued  in  their  posts,  and  a  number  of  the  Foreign  Office 
letters  of  the  new  Protectorate  were  of  Milton's  composition. 
Thinking  the  time  fit,  he  also  put  forth,  in  October  1658,  a 
new  edition  of  his  Defensio  Prima,  and,  early  in  1659,  a 
new  English  pamphlet,  entitled  Treatise  of  Civil  Power  in 
Ecclesiastical  Causes,  ventilating  those  notions  of  his  as  to 
the  separation  of  church  and  state  which  he  bad  been 
obliged  of  late  to  keep  to  him.sclf.  To  Richard's 
Protectorate  also  belongs  one  of  Milton's  Latin  Familiar 
Episllei.  Meanwhile,  though  all  had  sccmod  quiet  round 
Richard  at  first,  the  jealousies  of  the  army  officers  left  about 
him  by  Oliver,  and  the  conflict  of  political  elements  let 
loose  by  Oliver's  death,  were  preparing  his  downfall.  In 
May  1659  Richard's  Protectorate  was  at  an  end.  The 
country  had  returned  with  pleasure  to  what  was  calleJ 
"the  good  old  cause"  of  pure  republicanism;  and  the 
government  was  in  the  hands  of  "the  Restored  Rump,'' 
consisting  of  the  reassembled  remains  of  that  Rump  Parlia- 
ment which  Cromwell  had  dissolved  in  1653.  To  this 
change,  as  inevitable  in  the  circumstances,  or  even  promis- 
ing, Milton  adjusted  himself.  The  last  of  his  known 
official  performances  in  his  Latin  secretaryship  are  two 
letters  in  the  name  of  William  Lentlmll,  as  the  speaker  of 
the  restored  Rump,  one  to  the  king  of  Sweden  and  one  to 
the  king  of  Denmark,  both  dated  May  15,  1659.  Under 
the  restored  Rump,  if  ever,  he  seemed  to  have  a  chance  for 
his  notion  of  church-discstablishincnt ;  and,  accordingly,  in 
August  1659,  he  put  forth,  with  a  prefatory  address  to  that 
body,  a  large  pamphlet  entitled  Considerations  iovc/iin</ 
tlif  liheliest  means  to  remove  J/iretinys  out  of  llu  Church. 
Tho  restored  Rump  had  no  time  to  attend  to  such  matters. 
They  wero  in  struggle  for  their  own  e^dstcnco  with  tho 
army  chiefs ;  and  tho  British  Islands  were  in  that  state 
of  hopeless  confusion  and  anarchy  which,  after  passing 
through  a  brief  phase  of  attempted  military  govcrnmi.  iit 
(October  to  December  1659),  and  a  second  revival  of  the 
purely  republican  or  Hump  government  (December  1659  to 


MILTON 


335 


iFebruary  1659-60),  issued  in  Monk's  march  from  Scotland, 
assumption  of  the  dictatorship  in  London,  and  recall  of  all 
the  sur\'ivors  of  the  original  Long  Parliament  to  enlarge  the 
Kump  to'  due  dimensions  and  assist  him  in  further  delibera- 
tions. Through  all  this  anarchy  the  Royalist  elements  had 
been  mustering  themselves,  and  the  drift  to  the  restoration 
of  the  Stuart  dynasty,  as  the  only  possible  or  feasible  con- 
clusion, had  become  apparent.  To  prevent  that  issue,  to 
argue  against  it  and  fight  against  it  to  the  last,  was  the 
work  to  which  Milton  had  then  set  himself.  His  dis- 
establishment notion  and  all  his  other  notions  had  been 
thrown  aside ;  the  preservation  of  the  republic  in  any  form, 
and  by  any  compromise  of  difierences  within  itself,  had 
become  his  one  thought,  and  the  study  of  practical  means 
to  this  end  his  most  anxious  occupation.  In  a  Letter  to  a 
Friend  concerning  the  Ruptures  of  the  Commonwealth, 
written  in  October  1659,  he  had  propounded  a  scheme  of 
a  kind  of  dual  government  for  reconciling  the  army  chiefs 
■with  the  Rump ;  through  the  following  winter,  marked  only 
by  two  of  his  Latin  Familiar  Epistles,  his  anxiety  over  the 
signs  of  the  growing  enthusiasm  throughout  the  country 
for  the  recall  of  Charles  II.  had  risen  to  a  kind  of  agony ; 
and  early  in  March  1659-60  his.  agony  found  vent  in  a 
pamphlet  of  the  most  passionate  vehemence  entitled  Tlie 
Ready  and  Fasy  Way  to  Establish  a  Free  Commonwealth, 
and  the  Excellence  thereof  compared  with  the  Inconveniences 
and  Dangers  of  readmitting  Kingship  in  this  Nation.  An 
abridgment  of  the  practical  substance  of  this  pamphlet  was 
addressed  by  him  to  General  Monk  in  a  letter  entitled  The 
Present  Means  and  Brief  Deliweation  of  a  Free  Common- 
Tvealth.  Milton's  proposal  was  that  the  central  governing 
apparatus  of  the  British  Islands  for  the  future  should  con- 
sist of  one  indissoluble  Grand  Council  or  parliament,  which 
should  include  all  the  political  chiefs,  while  there  should 
he  a  large  number  of  provincial  councils  or  assemblies  sitting 
in  the  great  to^^■n3  for  the  management  of  local  and  county 
affairs.  The  scheme,  so  far  as  the  public  attended  to  it  at  all, 
"was  received  with  laughter;  the  Royalist  demonstrations  were 
now  fervid  and  tumultuous;  and  it  remained  only  for  the  new 
and  full  parliament  of  two  Houses  which  had  been  sum- 
moned under  Monk's  auspices,  and  which  is  now  known  as 
the  Convention  Parliament,  to  give  effect  to  Monk's  secret 
•determination  and  the  universal  popular  desire.  Not  even 
then  would  Milton  be  silent.  In  Bnef  Notes  on  a  late 
Sermon,  published  in  April  1660,  in  reply  to  a  Royalist  dis- 
course by  a  Dr  Griffith,  he  made  another  protest  against 
the  recall  of  the  Stuarts,  even  hinting  that  it  would  be 
better  that  Monk  should  become  king  himself ;  and  in  the 
same  month  he  sent  forth  a  second  edition  of  his  Ready 
and  Easy  Way,  more  frantically  earnest  than  even  the 
first,  and  containing  additional  passages  of  the  most  violent 
denunciation  of  the  royal  family,  and  of  prophecy  of  the 
degradation  and  disaster  they  would  bring  back  with  them. 
This  was  the  dying  effort.  On  the  25th  of  April  the  Con- 
'vention  Parliament  met;  on  the  1st  of  May  they  resolved 
imanimously  that  the  government  by  King,  Lords,  and  Com- 
inons  should  be  restored ;  and  on  the  29th  of  May  Charles 
DLL  made  his  triumphal  entry  into  London.  'The  chief 
fcepublicans  had  by  that  time  scattered  themselves,  and 
[Milton  was  in  hiding  in  an  obscure  part  of  the  city. 

How  Milton  escaped  the  scaffold  at  the  Restoration  is  a 
jinystery  now,  and  was  a  mystery  at  the  time.  Actually, 
[in  the  terrible  course  through  the  two  Houses  of  the  Con- 
Tention  Parliament  of  that  Bill  of  Indemnity  by  which 
the  fates  of  the  surviving  regicides  and  of  so  many 
others  of  the  chief  republican  culprits  were  determined, 
Milton  was  named  for  special  punishment.  It  was  voted 
by  the  Commons  that  he  should  be  taken  into  custody  by 
the  sergeant-at-arms,  for  prosecution  by  the  ettdiney- 
on  account  of   his  EikonoklasUs  and  Defensio 


Prima,  and  that  all  copies  of  those  books  should  be  called 
in  and  burnt  by  the  hangman.  There  was,  however,  some 
powerful  combination  of  friendly  influences  in  his  favour, 
with  Monk  probably  abetting.  At  all  events,  on  the  29th 
of  August  1660,  when  the  Indemnity  Bill  did  come  out 
complete,  with  the  king's  assent,  granting  full  pardon  to 
all  for  their  past  offences,  *ith  the  exception  oi  about  a 
hundred  persons  named  iff  the  bill  itself  for  various  degrees 
of  punishment,  thirty-four  of  them  for  death  and  twenty- 
six  for  the  highest  penalty  short  of  death,  Milton  did  not 
appear  as  one  of  the  exceptions  on  any  ground  or'  in  any 
of  the  grades.  From  that  moment,  therefore,  he  could 
emerge  from  his  hiding,  and  go  about  as  a  free  man.  Not 
that  he  was  yet  absolutely  safe.  During  the  ne^  two 
or  three  months  London  was  in  excitement  over  the 
trials  of  such  of  the  excepted  regicides  and  others  as  had 
not  succeeded  in  escaping  abroad,  and  the  hangings  and 
quarterings  of  ten  of  them ;  there  were  several  public 
burnings  by  the  hangman  at  the  same  time  of  Milton's 
condemned  pamphlets ;  and  the  appearance  of  the  blind 
man  himself  in  the  streets,  though  he  was  legally  free, 
would  have  caused  him  to  be  mobbed  and  assaulted.  Nay, 
notwithstanding  the  Indemnity  Bill,  he  was  in  some  legal 
danger  to  as  late  as  December  1660.  Though  the  special 
prosecution  ordered  against  him  by  the  Commons  had  been 
quashed  by  the  subsequent  Indemnity  Bill,  the  sergeant-at- 
arms  had  taken  him  into  custody.  Entries  in  the  Com- 
mons journals  of  December  17  and  19  show  that  Milton 
complained  of  the  sergeant-at-arms  for  demanding  exorbi- 
tant fees  for  his  release,  and  that  the  House  arranged  the 
matter. 

Milton  did  not  rettirn  to  Petty  France.  For  the  first 
months  after  he  was  free  he  lived  as  closely  as  possible  in 
a  house  near  what  is  now  Red .  Lion  Square,  Holborn. 
Thence  he  removed,  apparently  early  in  1661,  to  a  house 
in  Jewin  Street,  in  his  old  Aldersgate-Street  and  Barbican 
neighbourhood. 

In  Jewin  Street  Milton  remained  for  two  or  three  years, 
or  from  1661  to  1664.  They  were  the  time  of  his  deepest 
degradation,  that  time  of  which  he  speaks  when  he  tells 
us  how,  by  the  Divine  help,  he  had  been  able  to  persevere 
undauntedly — 

"  thouc;h  fallen  on  evil  days, 
On  evil'days  though  fallen,  and  evil  tongues, 
In  darkness,  and  with  dangers  compassed  round, 
And  solitude." 

The  "evil  days"  were  those  of  the  Restoration  in  its" 
first  or  Clarendonian  stage,  with  its  revenges  and  reactions, 
its  return  to  high  Episcopacy  and  suppression  of  every 
form  of  dissent  and  sectarianism,  its  new  and  shameless 
royal  court,  its  open  proclamation  and  practice  of  anti- 
Puritanism  in  morals  and  in  literature  no  less  than  in 
politics.  For  the  main  part  of  this  world  of  the  Restora^ 
tion  Milton  was  now  nothing  more  than  an  infamous 
outcast,  the  detestable  blind  republican  and  regicide  who 
had,  by  too  great  clemency,  been  left  unhanged.  The 
friends  that  adhered  to  him  still,  and  came  to  sec  him  in 
Jewin  Street,  were  few  in  number,  and  chieily  from  the 
ranks  of  those  nonconforming  denominations.  Independ- 
ents, Baptists,  or  Quakers-,  who  were  themselves  under 
similar  obloquy.  Besides  his  two  nephews,  the  faithful 
Andrew  Marvell,  CjTiack  Skinner,  and  some  others  of  his 
former  admirers,  English  or  foreign,  we  hear  chiefly  of  a 
Dr  Nathan  Paget,  who  was  a  physician  in  the  Jewin- 
Street  neighbourhood,  and  of  several  yoimg  men  who  would 
drop  in  upon  him  by  turns,  partly  to  act  as  his  amanuenses, 
and  partly  for  the  benefit  of  lessons  from  him, — one  of  them 
an  interesting  Quaker  youth,  named  Thomas  Ellwood. 
With  all  this  genuine  attachment  to  him  of  a  select  few, 
Milton  could  truly  enough  describe  his  condition  after 


y' 


336 


M  I  I.  T  O  N 


tUe  Restoration  as  one  of  "solitude."  Nor  was  this  the 
worst.  His  three  daughters,  on  whom  he  ought  now  to 
have  been  able  principally  to  depend,  were  his  most  serious 
domestic  trouble.  The  poor  motherless  girls,  the  eldest  in 
her  seventeenth  year  in  1662,  the  second  in  her  fifteenth, 
and  the  youngest  in  her  eleventh,  had  grown  up,  in  their 
father's  blindness  and  too  great  self-absorption,  iil-looked- 
after  and  but  poorly  educated ;  and  the  result  now 
appeared.  They  "made  nothing  of  neglecting  him  " ;  they 
rebelled  against  the  drudgery  of  readmg  to  him  or  other- 
wise attending  on  him  ;  they  "  did  combine  together  and 
counsel  his  maid-servant  to  cheat  him  in  her  marketings  "  ; 
they  actually  "had  mado  away  some  of  his  books,  and 
would  have  sold  the  rest."  It  was  to  remedy  this  horrible 
state  of  things  that  Milton  consented  to  a  third  mar- 
riage. The  wife  found  for  him  was  Elizabeth  Minshull, 
of  a  good  Cheshire  family,  and  a  relative  of  Dr  Paget's. 
They  were  married  on  the  24th  of  February  1662-63,  the 
wife  being  then  only  in  her  twenty-fifth  year,  while  MUton 
was  in  his  fifty-fifth.  She  proved  an  excellent  wife ;  and 
the  Jewm  Street  household,  though  the  daughters  remained 
in  it,  must  have  been  under  better  management  from  the 
time  of  her  entry  into  it.  From  that  date  Milton's  circum- 
stances must  have  been  more  comfortable,  and  his  thoughts 
about  himself  less  abject,  than  they  had  been  through  the 
two  preceding  years,  though  his  feeling  in  the  main  must 
have  been  still  that  of  his  own  Samson  : — 

*•  Now  blind,  disheartened,  shamed,  dishonoured,  quelled, 

To  what  can  I  be  useful  ?  wherein  serve 

ITy  nation,  and  tlie  work  from  heaven  imposed  ? 

But  to  sit  idle  on  the  household  hearth, 

A  burdenous  drone,  to  visitants  a  gaze, 

Or  pitied  object." 
Tliat  might  be  the  appearance,  but  it  was  not  tne  reality. 
All  the  while  of  his  seeming  degradation  he  had  found 
Eome  solace  in  renewed  industry  of  various  kinds  among 
his  books  and  tasks  of  scholarship,  and  all  the  whUe,  more 
particularly,  he  had  been  building  up  his  Paradise  Lost. 
He  had  begun  the  poem  in  earnest,  we  are  told,  in  his 
house  in  Petty  France,  in  the  last  year  of  Cromwell's 
Protectorate,  and  then  not  in  the  dramatic  form  contem- 
plated eighteen  years  before,  but  deliberately  in  the  epic 
form.  He  had  made  but  little  way  when  there  came  the 
interruption  of  the  anarchy  preceding  the  Restoration  and 
of  the  Restoration  itself ;  but  the  work  had  been  resumed 
in  Jewin  Street  and  prosecuted  there  steadily,  by  dictations 
of  twenty  or  thirty  lines  at  a  timB  to  whatever  friendly  or 
hired  amanuensis  chanced  to  be  at  hand.  Considerable 
progress  had  been  made  in  this  way  before  his  third 
marriage ;  and  after  that  the  work  proceeded  apace,  his 
nephew  Edward  Phillips,  who  was  then  out  in  the  world 
on  his  own  account,  looking  in  when  he  could  to  revise  the 
growing  manuscript. 

It  was  not  in  the  house  in  Jewin  Street,  however,  that 
ParaJiie  Lost  was  finished.  Not  very  long  after  the  third 
marriage,  probably  in  1664,  there  was  a  removal  to  another 
house,  with  a  garden,  not  far  from  Jewin  Street,  but  in  a 
more  private  portion  of  the  same  suburb.  This,  which 
was  to  be  the  last  of  all  Milton's  London  residences,  was 
in  the  part  of  the  present  BuuhLU  Row  which  faces  the 
houses  that  conceal  the  London  artillery-ground  and  was 
then  known  as  "  Artillery  Walk,  leading  to  Bunhill  Fields." 
Here  the  poem  was  certainly  finished  before  July  166.5; 
for,  when,  in  that  month,  Milton  and  his  family,  to  avoid 
the  Great  Plague  of  London,  then  beginning  its  fearful 
ravages,  went  into  temporary  country-quarters  in  a  cottage 
in  Chalfont  St  Giles,  Buckinghamshire,  about  23  miles 
from  London,  the  finished  manuscript  was  taken  with 
him,  in  probably  more  than  one  co]jy.  This  wo  Icarn 
from  his  young  Quaker  friend,  Thomas  Ell  wood,  who  had 
taken  the  cottage  for  him,  and  who  was  shown  one  of  the 


manuscript'  copies,  and  allowed  to  take  it  away  with  him 
icr  perusal,  during  Milton's  stay  at  Chalfont.  Why  the 
poem  was  not  published  immediately  after  his  return  to  his 
Bunhill  hoase  in  London,  on  the  cessation  of  the  Great 
Plague,  does  not  distinctly  appear,  but  may  be  exploined 
partly  by  the  fact  that  the  official  licenser  hesitated  before 
granting  the  necessary  imprimatur  to  a  book  by  a  man  of 
such  notorious  republican  antecedents,  and  partly  by  tha 
paralysis  of  all  business  in  London  by  the  Great  Fire  of  Sep- 
tember 1666.  It  was  not  till  the  27th  of  April  1667  that 
Milton  concluded  an  agreement  with  a  publisher  for  the 
printing  of  his  epic.  By  the  agreement  of  that  date,  still 
extant,  Milton  sold  to  Samuel  Simmons,  printer,  of  Alders- 
gate  Street,  London,  for  £5  dovm,  the  promise  of  another^ 
after  the  sale  of  a  first  edition  of  thirteen  hundred  copie-i, 
and  the  further  promise  of  two  additional  sums  of  £5  each 
after  the  sale  of  two  more  editions  of  the  same  size  respec- 
tively, all  his  copyi'ight  and  commercial  interest  in  Parodist 
Lost  for  ever.  It  was  as  if  an  author  now  were  to  part 
with  all  his  rights  in  a  volume  for  £17,  10s.  down,  and  a 
contingency  of  £52,  10s.  more  in  three  equal  instalments. 
The  poem  was  duly  entered  by  Sinmions  as  ready 
for  publication  in  the  Stationers'  Registers  on  the  20th  oi 
the  following  August;  and  shortly  after  that  date  it  was  Out 
in  London  as  a  neatly  printed  small  quarto,  with  the  title 
Paradise  Lost  :  A  Poem  written  in  Ten  Books  :  By  John 
Milton.  The  publishing  price  was  3s.,  equal  to  about  lOs. 
6d.  now.  It  is  worth  noting  as  an  historical  coincidence 
that  the  poem  appeared  just  at  the  time  of  the  fall  and 
disgrace  of  Clarendon. 

The  effect  of  the  publication  of  Paradise  Lost  upon 
Milton's  reputation  can  only  be  described  adequately,  as 
indeed  it  was  consciously  described  by  himself  in  metaphor, 
by  his  own  words  on  Samson's  feat  of  triumph  over  tha 
Philistines : — 

But  he,  thouG^h  blind  of  sight, 

Despised,  and  thought  exting\iishcd  quite, 

With  inward  eyes  illuminated, 

His  fiery  virtue  roused 

From  under  ashes  into  sudden  flame, 

And  as  an  evening  dragon  came. 

Assailant  on  tlie  perched  roosts 

And  nests  in  order  ranged 

Of  tame  villatic  fowl,  but  as  an  eagle 

His  cloudless  thunder  bolted  on  their  heads." 

As  the  poem  circulated  and  found  readers,  whether  in 
the  first  copies  sent  forth  by  Simmons,  or  in  subsequent 
copies  issued  between  1667  and  1669,  with  varied  title- 
pages,  and  the  latest  of  them  with  a  prefixed  prose 
"Argument,"  the  astonishment  broke  out  everywhere. 
"  This  man  cuts  us  all  out,  and  the  ancients  too  "  is  the 
saying  attributed  to  Dryden  on  the  occasion  ;  and  it  is  the 
more  remarkable  because  the  one  objection  to  the  pOem 
which  at  first,  we  are  told,  "  stumbled  many  "  mustTiave 
"  stumbled  "  Drj-den  most  of  all.  Excei)t  in  the  drama, 
rhyme  was  then  thought  essential  in  anything  professing 
to  be  a  poem  ;  blank  verse  was  hardly  regarded  as  verse  at 
all ;  Dryden  especially  had  been  and  was  the  champion  of 
rhyme,  contending  for  it  even  in  the  drama ;  and  yet  here 
was  an  epic  not  only  written  in  blank  verse,  but  declaring 
itself  on  that  account  to  be  "  an  example  set,  tho  first  in 
English,  of  ancient  liberty  recovered  to  heroic -poem  from 
the  troublesome  and  modern  bondage  of  riming."  That, 
notwithstanding  this  obvious  blow  struck  by  the  poem  at 
Dryden's  pet  literary  theory,  he  should  have  welcomed  tho 
poem  so  enthusiastically  and  proclaimed  its  merits  so 
emphatically,  says  much  at  once  for  his  critical  perception 
and  for  the  generosity  of  his  temper.  An  opinion  pro- 
claimed by  the  very  chief  of  tho  Restoration  literature 
could-  not  but  prevail  among  the  contemporary  scholars ; 
and,  though  execration  of  the  blind  and  unhanged  regicide 


MILTON 


337 


Bad  not  ceased  among  the  fteaner  critics,  tlie  general  vote 
was  that  be  had  nobly  redeemed  himself.  One  conse- 
quence of  his  renewed  celebrity  was  that  yisitors  of  all 
ranks  again  sought  him  out  for  the  honour  of  his  society 
and  conversation.  His  obscure  house  in  Artillery  Walk, 
Bunhill,  we  are  told,  became  an  attraction  now,  "much 
more  than  he  did  desire,"  for  the  learned  notabilities  of 
his  time. 

The  year  1^69,  when  the  first  edition  of  Paradise  Lost 
had  been  completely  sold  out,  and  Milton  had  received  his 
second  £5  on  account  of  it,  may  be  taken  as  the  time  of 
the  perfect  recognition  of  his  pre-eminence  among  the 
English  'poets  of  his  generation.  He  was  then  sixty  years 
of  age ;  and  it  is  to  about  that  year  that  the  accounts  that 
have  come  down  to  us  of  his  personal  appearance  and 
habits  in  his  later  life  principally  refer.  They  describe 
him  as  to  be  seen  every  other  day  led  about  in  the  streets 
in  the  vicinity  of  his  Bunhill  residence,  a  slender  figure,  of 
middle  stature  or  a  Httle  less,  generally  dressed  in  a  grey 
cloak  or  overcoat,  and  wearing  sometimes  a  small  silver- 
hilted  sword,  evidently  in  feeble  health,  but  stiU  look- 
ing younger  than  he  was,  with  his  lightish  hair,  and  his 
fair,  rather  than  aged  or  pale,  complexion.  He  would  sit 
in  his  garden  at  the  door  of  his  house,  in  warm  weather, 
in  the  same  kind  of  grey  overcoat,  "and  so,  as  well  as  in 
his  room,  received  the  visits  of  people  of  distinguished 
parts,  as  well  as  quality."  Within  doors  he  was  usually 
dressed  in  neat  black.  He  was  a  very  early  riser,  and 
very  regular  in  the  distribution  of  his  day,  spending  the 
first  part,  to  his  midday  dinner,  always  in  his  own  room, 
amid  his  books,-,  with  an  amanuensis  to  read  for  him  and 
write  to  his  dictation.  Music  was  always  a  chief  part 
of  his  afternoon  and  evening  relaxation,  whether  when  he 
was  by  himself  or  when  friends  were  with  him.  His 
manner  with  friends  and  visitors  was  extremely  courteous 
and  affable,  with  just  a  shade  of  stateliness.  In  free  con- 
[versation,  either  at  the  midday  dinner,  when  a  friend  or 
two  happened,  by  rare  accident,  to  be  present,  or  more 
habitually  in  the  evening  and  at  the  light  supper  which 
concluded  it,  he  was  the  life  and  soul  of  the  company, 
from  Jiis  "  flow  of  subject "  and  his  "  unaffected  cheerful- 
ness and  civility,"  though  with  a  marked  tendency  to  the 
satirical  and  sarcastic  in  his  criticisms  of  men  and  things. 
This  tendency  to  the  sarcastic  was  connected  by  some  of 
those  who  observed  it  with  a  pecuIlSVity  of  his  voice  or 
pronunciation.  "  He  pronounced  the  letter  r  very  hard," 
Aubrey  tells  'us,  adding  Dryden's  note  on  the  subject : 
"  litera  caninci,  the  dog-letter,  a  certain  sign  of  a  satirical 
wit."  He  was  extremely  temperate  in  the  use  of  wine  or 
any  strong  liquors,  at  meals  and  at  all  other  times ;  and 
when  supper  was  over,  about  nine  o'clock,  "  he  smoked  his 
pipe  and  drank  a  glass  of  water,  and  went  to  bed."  He 
suffered  much  from  gout,  the  effects  of  which  had  become 
apparent  in  a  stiffening  of  his  hands  and  finger-joints,  and 
the  recurring  attacks  of  which  in  its  acute  form  were  very 
painful.  His  favourite  poets  among  the  Greeks  were 
HomeV  and  the  Tragedians,  especially  Euripides;  among 
the  Latins,  Virgil  and  Ovid ;  among  the  English,  Spenser 
and  Shakespeare.  Among  his  English  contemporaries,  he 
thought  most  highly  of  Cowley.  He  had  ceased  to  attend 
any  church,  belonged  to  no  religious  communion,  and  had 
no  religious  observances  in  his  family.  His  reasons  for 
this  were  a  matter  for  curious  surmise  among  his  friends, 
because  of  the  profoundly  religious  character  of  his  own 
mind ;  but  he  does  not  seem  ever  to  have  furnished  the 
explanation.  The  matter  became  of  less  interest  perhaps 
after  1669,  when  his  three  daughters  ceased  to  reside  with 
him,  having  been  sent  out,  at  considerable  expense,  "to 
learn  some  curious  and  ingenious  sorts  of  manufacture  that 
are  proper  for  women  to  learn,  particularly  embroideries 

1«>— 14 


in  gold  or  silver."  After  that  tne  honsetold  in  Bunhill 
consisted  only  of  Milton,  his  wife,  a  single  maid-aervant, 
and  the  "  man "  or  amanuensis  who  came  in  for  the  day.  ' 
The  remaining  years  of  Milton's  life,  extending  through 
that  part  of  the  reign  of  Charles  II.  which  figures  in 
English  history  under  the  name  of  "  The  Cabal  Administra- 
tion," were  by  no  means  unproductive.  In  1669  he  pub- 
lished, under  the  title  of  Accedenee  Commenced  Grammar,  a 
small  English  compendium  of  Latin  grammar  that  had 
been  lying  among  his  papers.  In  1670  there  appeared,  in 
a  rather  handsome  form,  and  with  a  prefixed  portrait  of 
him  by  Faithorne,  done  from  the  life,  and  the. best  aad 
most  authentic  that  now  exists,  his  Hisiort,  of  Britain  to 
the  Norman  Conquest,  being  all  that  he  had"  been  able  to 
accomplish  of  his  intended  complete  history  of  England. 
In  1671  there  followed  his  Paradise  Regained  and  Samson 
Agonistes,  bound  together  in  one  small  volume,  and  giving 
ample  proof  that  his  poetic  genius  had  not  exhausted  itself 
in  the  preceding  great  epic.  His  only  publication  in  1672 
was  a  Latin  digest  of  Eamist  logic,  entitled  Artis  Logical 
Plenior  Institutio,  of  no  great  value,  and  doubtless  from 
an  old  manuscript  of  his  earlier  days.  In  1673,  at  a 
moment  when  the  growing  political  discontent  with  the 
government  of  Charles  II.  and  the  conduct  of  his  court 
had  burst  forth  in  the  special  form  of  a  "No- Popery" 
agitation  and  outcry,  Milton  ventured  on  the  dangerous 
experiment  of  one  more  political  pamphlet,  in  which,  iindcr 
the  title  Of  True  Religion,  Heresy,  Schism,  Toleration,  and 
what  best  means  may  be  used  against  the  groiath  of  Popery^ 
he  put  forth,  with  a  view  to  popular  acceptance,  as  mild 
a  version  as  possible  of  his  former  principles  on  the  topics 
discussed.  In  the  same  year  appeared  the  second  edition 
of  his  Minor  Poems.  Thus  we  reach  the  year  1674,  the 
last  of  Milton's  life.  One  incident  of  that  year  was  tlio 
publication  of  the  second  edition  of  Paradise  Lost,  with 
the  poem  rearranged  as  now  into  twelve  books,  instead  cf 
the  original  ten.  Another  was  the  publication  of  a  small 
volume  containing  'his  Latin  Episiolse  Familiares,  together 
with  the  ProJusionfs  Oratories  of  his  student-days  at 
Cambridge, — these  last  thrown  in  as  a  substitute  for  his 
Latin  state  letters  in  his  secretaryship  for  the  Common- 
wealth and  the  Protectorate,  the  printing  of  which  was 
stopped  by  order  from  the  Foreign  Office.  A  third  publical 
tion  of  the  same  year,  and  probably  the  very  last  thing  dic- 
tated by  Milton,  was  a  translation  of  a  Latin  document  from 
Poland  relating  to  the  recent  election  of  the  heroic  John 
Sobieski  to  the  throne  of  that  kingdom,  with  the  title  A 
Declaration  or  Letters  Patents  of  the  Election  of  this  present 
King  of  Poland,  John  the  Third.  It  seems  to  have  been 
out  in  London  in  August  or  September  1674.  On  the  8th 
of  the  following  November,  being  a  Sunday,  Milton  died, 
in  his  house  in  Bunhill,  of  "  gout  struck  in,"  or  gout-fever, 
at  the  age  of  sixty-five  years  and  eleven  months.  He  was 
buried,  the  next  Thursday,  in  the  church  of  St  Giles, 
Cripplegate,  beside  his  father,  a  considerable  concourse 
attending  the  funeral. 

Before  the  Restoration,  Milton,  what  with  his  inlieritanoe  from 
his  father,  what  with  the  o£Gcial  income  of  Iiis.  Lttiu  secretapyship, 
must  have  been  a  man  of  very  good  means  indeeil.  Since  then, 
however,  various  heavy  losses,  and  the  cessation  of  all  official  income, 
bad  greatly  reduced  bis  estate,  bo  that  be  If  fc  luU  £900  (worth  about 
or  over  £2700  now),  besides  furniture  and  liousehold  goods.  By 
a  word-of-mouth  will,  made  in  presence  of  bis  brother  Christopher, 
he  had  bequeathed  the  whole  to  Ms  widow,  on  theground  that  ho 
had  done  enough  already  for  his  "  undutiful  "  daughters,  and  that 
there  remained  for  them  his  interest  in  their  mother's  marringo 
portion  of  £1000,  which  had  never  been  paid,  but  which  their 
relatives,  the  Powells  of  Forest  Hill,  wi-re  legally  bound  for,  and 
were  now  in  circumstances  to  make  good.  The  daughters,  with 
the  Powells  probably  abetting  them,  went  to  law  with  the  widow 
to  upset  the  will ;  and  the  decision  of  the  couit  was  that  they 
should  receive  £100  each.  With  the  £600  tliua  left,  the  widow, 
after  some  further  stay  in  London,  retiied  to  Nantvi:i:h  in  her 


338 


native  Cheshire-  There,  respected  as  a  fmas  membe.  of  a  locid 
Baptist  congregation,  she  l.v.J  tUl  1727,  Lving  survived  her  h^ 
band  fifty-tSrea  years      By  that  time  all  the  th?ee  daughters  wer^ 

builder,"  but  left^o  issueTtifs^^ontSiySt'nh^? 
jinmamed.  before  1691 ;  and  only  the  third.  Deborah   'sur^fvedl 
long  as  her  step-mother.     Havin.^  cone  to  Ir,.l,nT„'=  • 

to  a  lady,  shortly  before  her  fatger^s  death    .i?^' H     '°"'l'T°'' 

Abraham  CWke,'a  silk.weaveriXwtwitlwht^Wr^ru'™^^ 
to    London   about   1684.    when  thev   kpHIb.i   ir/  »i,      -u  "'"'?'='' 

business  in  S,,itamelds.Vatht%lJ^Lg%"lt  rhing^in'teT:^^^^^^ 
though  latter  V  some  public  attention  was  paid  fo  DcboraT  by 
Addison  and  otjiers,  on  tier  father's  account.  6ne  of  her  sons  Caleb 
Clarke  had  gone  out  to  Madras  in  1703,  and  had  died  there  as 
•■parish-clerk  of  Fort  George"  in  1719,  leivingchildren  of  whom 
there  are  some  faint  traces  to  as  late  as'  1727,  L  year  of  Deborah™ 


MILTON 


de.th      irv.»„f  f     *i  ..""""."s  i,z/,  tne  year  of  Deborah's 

death  Except  for  the  possibility  of  further  and  untraced  descent 
from  his  Incfian  grandson  of  Milton,  the  direct  de"  nt  from  m"^' 
orilh.,"l'"''^vu'"'  g^pddaughter,  Elizabeth  Clarke,  another 
?„,-2?fi  n  '  ''"''^u°-  .""'"S  °""<^'i  o-  Thomas  Foster  a 
Spitalfields  weaver,  but  afterwards  set  up  a  small  chandlert  shoo 

175V"noUon:Xr  sh""™  .'".  ^"^^''4  ^'"'  ^''^  "'  Islington  fn 
17M   not  long  after  she  and  her  husband  had  received  the  proceeds 

1^1  h^r thiTdZ  L/"'"?  ^°'  7.''^  ?'  J°'"'=°"  fo^  her'^Senefit 
^1  ner  children  had  predeceased  her,  leavin"  no  i^smb  Ar,r,„  • 
brother  Christopher,  ^^ho  had  always  'been^n  the  ZoVe  sidrin 
poll  ics,  rose  to  the  questionable  honour  of  a  judgeship  and  kntht 
£ood  m  the  latter  part  of  the  reign  of  James  Tl  He  had  then 
become   a   Roman  (5atbolic,-whic1i  religion  he  proffssed  till  h's 

t  taJTeable  rZV  '^'-1*  T  ''''  D-cen'^i^n  "  ftom  ht 
^  1,  ™  J  good  way  into  the  18th  century. -Milton's  two 
nephe.vsandnup.ls  Edward  and  John  Phillips,  both  of  hem  known 
^  busy  and  clever  hack-authors  before  their  uncle's  death  continued 
tt?„rb""";°^  ^''^  authorship,  most  industrious  y  and  variously 
though  not  very  prosperously,  through  the  rest  of  their  lives  Edward 
in  a  more  reputable  manner  than  jShn,  and  with  more  of  endurkl 
a^.giance  to  the  rnemory  of  his  uncle.  Edward  died  about  1695^ 
Joan  was  ahve  tdl  1706.  Their  half-3i<iter  Ar,ni„  .v,  ,' 
^ughter  of  Milton's  sister  by  her'^ecoTrh'ufb^andf faS  Zuti  I 

^^^ne^FCifZs'i  fl^Xg^o7St'h^reT=>r  '' tT'^  i 
the  poet's  father  is  in  this  Agar  S?e  branch  ortheMiS       ""^ 
Of  naassesofmanuscriptthatbadbeenleftby  Milton,  somoporHons 
saw  the  light  posthumously.     Prevented,  in  the  last   yearof  h"s 
life   as  has  been  mentioned,  from  publishing  his  Latin  SMe  zlllTs 
m  the  same  volume  with  his  L:itm  Fa,Riliar  Emst/^  hXt  if 
-^tted  the  charge  of  the  St.tc  Lelta-s,  pr^n^'dffr'ttprt'  ogeT; 
JJoclrmt,  to  a  young  Cambndge  scholar,  Daniel  Skinner    who  had 
been  among  tKe   last  of  his  amanuenses,  and  had,  in  fact    been 
employed  Vh.m  specially  in  copying  out  and  arranging  those  two 
important  MSS.     ffegotiations  were^  foot,  after  i?i' tfn's  deatl 
between  this  Dan  e    Skinner  and  the  Amsterdam  printer   Daniei 
Ekevir,  for  the  publication  of  both  MSS.,  when  the  EngHh  Govern 
inent  mterferei,  and  the  MSS.  were  sent  back  by  Ekevir    and 
tiircwn  aside,  as  dangerous   rubbish,  in  a  cupboard  in  the 'sfile 

RtTw^o^had  ^^^-"■'"1".  i°  1"6.  "  London' boSksSe.  named 
R  t,  who  had  somehow  got  into  his  possession  a  less  perfect  but 
3b^l  tolerably  complete,  copy   of  t\.^  SlaU  UlUr,,  ha'd    brough 

JNo  other  posthumous  publication  of  Milton's  apueared  till  IfiSi 
ti:  Uh''"  rr""''^"'  P"'  f""''  "  alight  tTtentm'ei'j); 
I)tmncs,  consisting  of  a  pa^e  or  two,  of  rather  dubious  authen- 
t.city  said  to  have  been  withheld  from  his  mstory  of  BrUainl, 
f^l^T;  W  ^"  ",?^  appeared  ^  Bri,f  U^lory  of  MoTaZ. 
and  of  other  less-known  Countries  hinn  eastward  nf  R,,7jy 
far  as  Catkay,. ndouUeiU  MUton'sf^'nd^  ^^  cin^n  oHL: 
prose  eompUations  with  wtich  he  sometimes  occupied  his    eisnre 

swelled  to  three  folio  volumes  of  MS.,  all  that  is  known  is  that 


r»  1  ■  L  — ;  .v^.u.woa  ui  iiio.  ail  mat  IS  known  is  that 
after  having  been  used  by  Edward  Phillips  for  someof  Awpedagog  ^ 
books,  they  came  into  the  hands  of  a  comicittce  of  dmbfhfo^ 
scholars  and  wore  use<i  for  that  Latin  dictionary  of  1693,  called  rf^ 
€amb,-tdg,V^^onary,  on  which  Ainsworth's'i),WWry  and  al 
subsequent  Latin  dictionaries  of  English  manufacture  have  been 
^i  a:  '"V^'^r  ^h'"  ""'  P»l'li'''='=d  in  three  folio  volumes  under 
the  editorship  of  John  Toland,  the  first  collecrive  edition  of  Milton's 
prose  works,  rrofessing  to  have  been  printed  at  Amsterdam  Ihoueh 
really  printed  in  London.  A  very  interesring  folio  volume  nul^ 
I.6hed  in  1743  by  "Joha  NickoUs,  junior,'?  under  To  ti.fe  of 
.^'■"l"    ,  '  ^"^  f"^'"  "•^'^'""  addressed  to  Oliver  Cromwell 

lonsiats  of  a  number  of  lutimato  Cromwcllian  documents  that  had 
5r,t  7"'^  ■n'°Milton's  possession  immediately  ^fter  Cromwell's 
death,  and  were  left  by  him  confideatioUj  to  the  Quaker  Ellwood. 


I  FinaUy,  a  chance  search  in  the  London  State  Paper  Office  in  irm 

»nV!-^°T^"°.S'  ""■"  """■  "it'':^'".  has  seemed  proper  in  such 
an  article  as  the  present.     What  little  of  closing  remark  is  ne«^ 

M  on'  ri°"°''v/'"'="  ',■'"'  "'o  °b"°»»  f^<=t  of  the  divL'oT^ 
^  -a  '  h?tLe  of"v  ,"'^^?1"°?  mechanically  distinct  p  riod^' 
t^^ntv  ;l!r     r  '"s.youth  and  minor  poems,  (2)  his  middU 

an?  h''ad*'hi,°"n'?i"*  '"  ""'  "^'°  ^^^^  ^  ^'^  thirty-second  year. 
and  had  his  literary  remains  been  then  coUected,  he  would  hav. 

one  „fTh"°''"f  "'  ""^  °^  *'''  ^''^  I'^«"i=t«  of  tis  generation  anJ 
one  of  the  most  exquisite  of  minor  English  poets.  In  the  latter 
ciai^cter,  more  particulariy,  he  would  have  taken  his  place  aaone 
of  that  nteresting  group  or  series  of  English  poets,  coming  U,  ?ha 
ne.n  forty  years  alter  Spenser,  who,  because  th^  aU  acknowlSerf 
a  filial  relationship  to  Spenser,  may  be  called  collectWely  'fho 
noTs'oMh:-  r    "  '^'f  r"''  °/  -'■-^.  ^'--ntiBg  in  itsuch  othe^r  t^^^ 

woi  1,1  b^vl  V,  Y  /•  ?'"'P™"°°°'l<'f  "'"tbomden,  MUton 

lift  and  wb^l  ™  V'l'^'  ^^-  "■,"  ?'"""  <^o\ie„i\ou  of  pieces  he  hid 
T'h,  ^  n'T"'^  ''"''  ""Glided  his  Ode  <m  the  NativUy    hS 

tW  tt,  ,  c^"y  "."=  "■">' '"«'"'''  ^n-l  finest.  There  was  in  Sim 
that  peculiar  Spenserian  something  which  might  be  rcardtd  as  the 
poetic  facul  y  in  ite  essence,  with  a  closeness  and  perfection  of  v^rte! 

Sr^I^mseH      1°""'  '."  ""^  ■""'"  .SP--™n3,  or  even  iL"tte 

master  himself.     A  very  discerning  critic  might  have  gone  deencr 

as  we  can  now.     Few  as  the  pieces  were,  and  owning  d.^iSo 

to  Spenser  as  the  author  did",  he  was  a  Spenserian  wit-    a  dijer? 

I  fnHee^  r^'.''^  '\V'  °7°  '^"-stitution, -which  prophesied,  «J 

,    ndeed  already  exhibited,    the   passage  of  English    poetry   fvt  of 

TMs  ifrr'""  """.'   ^'i^  """  ""'Sht   be  called  ?ho  Miltonil 

I  en5  °  ^°»'=t'',ng,  distjnguishing  the  new  poet  from  other 

'  si*^!  "d  in      '  ""  T"  ""^^  """"'  perfection  of  literacy  finish    It  co^ 

r,°m    "flf        °7w"'"'5'°,'"°'''^  already  of  the  os  magna  sonitu. 

rest 'n.  !,„  "o"th  formed  for  great  utterances,"  that  consciousnesa 

frn,TrT  f^  r  ""=<"T.°f  I'terature.  "He  who  would  not  be 
h,?„  f  '  '"P'  '°  '":!"'  "■'"  h"eafteron  laudable  things  ought 
a  ilr:  A  ^rfi  '^''^P"'"}  '^'>s  MUton's  own  memorable  expressfon 
el  ■  Z?  /  °^""  P/'-^'P'"  '•'""  ^'^  '^''^"  possession  of  him  Imm  Z 
cailiest  days;  and  this  pnnciple  of  moral  manliness  as  the  trae 
foundation  of  lugh  Hterary  effort,  of  the  inextricable  identity  of  JJ 
jterary  productions  in  kind,  and  their  coequality  in  wo  th,  «itu 
de  .?t/r?  "^  ""  which  they  have  their  origin,  might  liave  bin 
detected,  in  n.ore  or  less  definite  shape,  in  all  or  most  of  the  minor 

?;?vT'".,-rU'  %  "'^'f^"  '?™.  "^  "■"*  P""*'  P''"«=i<;  doctrine  of  th« 
nvucbihty  0  virtue  which  runs  tSrough  his  Com,,,,  and  whkk 
IS  summed  up  m  the  Jliltonic  motto  of  the  closing  liui:— 
"  Mortals  tljat  would  follow  me. 
Love  Virtue  :  ehc  alone  ta  fr«e. 
She  can  teach  ye  how  to  cllmli 
Higher  than  the  Bphery  chimo  : 
Or,  II  Virtue  feeble  were. 
Heaven  Itself  would  stoop  to  her." 
That  a  yonth  and  early  manhood  of  such  poetical  promiM  ahonld 
S^ri       1  ^''"''""^'"^  ^y  »""■«/  yoars  of  all  but  iice^ant  pro» 
the  author  of  Comus  and  Lyctdas,  instead  of  keeping  to  the  poetic 

tiirmod  of  prose  pamphleteenng  on  questions  of  church  and  sUte 
with  nothing  in  vei-se  to  glitter  across  the  long  morass  but  a  slight 
Cham  of  biographical  and  historical  sonnets)  Surely  this  i1  a 
inost  shallow  and  most  unmasculine  judgment.  Is  nothing  due  to 
Milton  s  own  e.vpl.inat.on  of  the  reasons  that   drew  him    at  the 


jwn  e.\pla  _ 

beginning  of  tlio  English  Revolution,  out"of  his"lit"crary  projccU  and 
dreamings,  into  active  partisanship  with  the  cause  whic\i  his  reason 
favoured  ?  Hear  what  lie  says  would  have  been  the  reproach  of  hia 
own  conscience  to  him,  evening  and  morning,  if  he  had  abstained 
from  such  partisanship  and  persisted  in  his  poetic  privacy.  "  Ease 
and  leisure  was  given  thee  for  thy  retired  thoughu  out  of  the  .weat 
of  other  men.  Thou  hadst  the  diligence,  the  parts,  the  langoan 
of  a  man,  if  a  vain  subject  were  to  be  adorned  or  beautified-  but. 
when  the  cause  of  God  and  His  church  was  to  be  pleaded,  for  which 
purpose  th.it  tongue  was  given  theo  which  thou  hast,  God  listened 
II  Ho  could  hear  thy  voice  among  His  zealous  servants,  but  thou 
wort  dumb  as  a  beast  :  from  honccforwarxl  he  that  w'lich  thine  own 
brutish  silence  hath  made  thee."  Or.  if  this  should  be  in  too  high  a 
strain  for  the  ordinary  modern  apprehension,  may  not  one  aak.  aom 


MILTON 


339 


amply,  whether  sach  controtereial  work  as  Milton  did  plunge 
into,  and  persevere  in  for  twenty  years,  was  unworthy,  after  all,  of 
him  or  his  powers  I  Do  not  hundreds  of  men,  accounted  among 
the  ablest  in  the  world,  spend  their  lives  precisely  in  such  work 
of  coutroversy  on  contemporary  questions ;  and  are  not  some  of 
the  men  of  noblest  reputation  in  the  world's  history  remembered 
for  nothing  else !  If  Burke,  whose  whole  public  career  consisted 
in  a  succession  of  speeches  and  pamphlets,  is  looked  back  upon 
as  one  of  the  greatest  men  of  his  century  on  their  account,  why 
should  there  be  such  regret  over  the  fact  that  Milton,  after  having 
been  the  author  of  Comu-  and  Lycidas,  became  for  a  time -the  prose 
orator  of  his  earlier  and  more  tumultuous  generation  ?  The  truth  is 
that  it  is  not  his  exchnnge  of  poetry  for  prose  oratory  that  is 
objected  to,  so  much  as  the  nature  of  his  prose  oratory,  the  side  he 
took,  the  opinions  he  advocated.  English  scholarship  and  English 
literary  criticism  have  not  yet  sufficiently  recovered  from  that 
Inherited  sycophancy  to  the  Restoration  which  has  covered  with  a 
cloud  the  preceding  twenty  years  of  the  "Great  Rebellion,"  voting 
that  period  of   English  history  to   be   unrespectable,  and  all  its 

rhenomena  of  Presbyterianism,  the  Solemn  League  and  Covenant, 
ndependency,  the  sects,  English  republicanism,  &c. ,  to  be  matters 
of  obsolete  jargon,  less  worthy  of  attention  than  a  Roman  agrarian 
law  or  the  names  of  Horace's  mistresses.  "When  this  unscholarly 
state  o,f  temper  has  passed,  there  will  be  less  disposition  to  distin- 
euish  between  Milton  as  the  poet  and  Milton  as  the  prose  writer, 
^hile  some  may  recognize,  with  the  avidity  of  r^ssent  and  partisan- 
ship, tlie  fact  that  there  are  in  Milton's  prose  writings  notions  of 
mu'cii  value  and  consequence  that  have  not  yet  been  absorbed  into 
the  English  political  mind,  there  will  be  a  general  agreement  at  least 
as  to  the  importance  of  those  pamphlets  historically.  It  will  be 
perceived  that  he  was  not  only  the  greatest  pamphleteer  of  his 
generation,  head  and  shoulders  above  the  rest,  but  also  that  there 
13  no  life  of  that  time,  not  even  Cromwell's,  in  which  the  history 
of  the  great  Revolution  in  its  successive  phases,  so  far  as  the  deep 
underlying  ideas  and  speculations  were  concerned,  may  be  more 
intimately  and  instructively  studied  than  in  Milton's.  Then,  on 
merely  literary  grounds,  what  an  interest  in  tlicse  prose  remains  1 
Not  only  of  bis  Areopagitica,  admired  now  so  unreservedly  because 
its  main  doctrine  has  become  axiomatic,  but  of  most  of  his  other 
pamphlets,  even  those  the  doctrine  of  which  is  least  popular,  it  may 
De  said  confidently  that  they  answer  to  his  own  definition  of  "a 
^good  book,"  by  containing  somehow  '*  the  precious  life-blood  of  a 
master-spirit."  From  the  entire  series  there  might  be  a  collection 
of  specimens,  unequalled  anywhere  else,  of  the  capabilities  of  that 
older,  grander,  and  more  elaborate  English  prose  of  which  the 
Elizabethans  and  their  immediate  successors  were  not  ashamed, 
though  it  has  fallen  into  disrepute  now  in  comparison  with  the 
easier  and  nimbler  pros©  which  came  in  with  Dryden.  Nor  will 
readers  -of  Milton's  pamphlets  continue  to  accept  the  hackneyed 
observation  that  his  genius  was  destitute  of  humour.  Though  his 
prevailing  mood  was  the  severely  earnest,  thero  are  pages  in  his 
prose  writings,  both*  English  and  Latin,  of  thQ  most  laughable 
irony,  reaching  sometimes  to  outrageous  farce,  and  some  of  them 
as  wortliy  of  the  name  of  humour  as  anything  in  Swift.  Here, 
however,  we  touch  on  what  is  the  worst  feature  in  some  of  the  prose 
pamphlets, — their  measureless  ferocity,  their  boundless  licence  in 

Scrsuual  scurrility.  With  all  allowance  for  the  old  custom  of  those 
ays,  when  controversy  was  far  more  of  a  life-and-death  business 
than  it  is  now,  as  well  as  for  the  intrinsic  soundness  of  Milton's 
rule  of  always  discerning  tlie  ^nan  behind  the  look^  it  is  impossible 
for  the  most  tolerant  of  modern  readers  to  excuse  Milton  in  this 
respect  to  the  full  extent  of  his  delinquencies. 

While  it  is  wrong  to  regard  Milton's  middle  twenty  years  of 
prose  polemics  as  a  degradation  of  his  genius,  and  while  the  fairer 
contention  might  bo  that  the  youthful  poet  of  Comus  and  Lycidas 
actually  promoted  himself,  and  became  a  more  powerful  agency  in 
the  world  and  a  more  interesting  object  in  it  for  ever,  by  consent- 
ing to  lay  aside  his  "singing  robes "  and  spend  a  portion  of  his  life 
in  great  prose  oratory,  who  does  not  exult  in  the  fact  that  such  a 
life  was  rounded  off  so  miraculously  at  the  close  by  a  final  stage  of 
compulsory  calm,  when  the  "singing  robes"  could  be  resumed,  and 
Paradise  Lost,  Paradise  Hcgained,  and  Samson  Agonistes  could  issue 
in  succession  from  the  blind  man's  chamber?  Of  these  three 
poems,  and  what  they  reveal  of  Milton,  no  need  here  to  speak  at 
length.  Paradise  Lost  is  one  of  the  few  monumental  works  of  the 
world,  with  nothing  in  modern  epic  literature  comparable  to  it 
except  the  great  poem  of  Dante.  This  is  best  perceived  bv  those 
who  penetrate  beneath  the  beauties  of  the  merely  terrestrial  portion 
of  the  story,  and  who  recognize  the  coherence  and  the  splendour  of 
that  vast  symbolic  phantasmagory  by  which,  through  the  wars  in 
heaven  inJ  the  subsequent  revenge  of  the  expelled  archangel,  it 
paints  forth  the  connexion  of  the  whole  visible  universe  of  human 
wi^ftizance  and  history  with  the  grander,  pre-existing,  and  still 
environing  world  of  the  eternal  and  inconceivable.  To  this  great 
2^0  Paradise  Rtgained  is  a  sequel,  and  it  ought  to  be  read  as  such. 
Vky  legend  that  Milton  preferred  the  shorter  epic  to  the  larger  is 
';^»Sb  inconect.    AU  that  is  authentic  on  the  subject  is  the  state- 


ment by  Edward  Phillips  that,  when  it  was  reported  to  his  uncle 
that  the  shorter  epic  was  "generally  censured  to  bo  much  inferior 
to  the  other,"  he  "could  not  hear  with  patience  any  such  thing." 
The  best  critical  judgment  now  confirms  Milton's  own,  and  pro- 
nounces Paradise  Eegained  to  be  not  only,  within  the  possibilities 
of  its  briefer  theme,  a  worthy  sequel  to  Paradise  Lost,  but  also  one 
of  the  most  edifying  and  artistically  perfect  poems  in  any  language. 
Finally,  the  poem  in  which  Milton  bade  farewell  to  the  Muse,  and 
in  which  he  reverted  to  the  dramatic  form,  proves  that  to  the  very 
end  his  right  hand  had  lost  none  of  its  power  or  cunning.  Samson 
Agonistes  is  the  most  powerful  drama  in  our  language  after  the 
severe  Greek  model,  and  it  has  the  additional  interest  of  being  so 
contrived  that,  without  strain  at  any  one  point,  or  in  any  one  par- 
ticular, of  tho  strictly  objective  incidents  of  the  Biblical  story 
which  it  enshrines,  it  is  yet  the  poet's  own  epitaph  and  his  con- 
densed autobiography.  All  in  all,  now  that  those  three  great 
poems  of  Milton's  later  life  have  drawn  permanently  into  their 
company  the  beautiful  and  more  simple  performances  of  his  youth 
and  early  manhood,  so  that  we  have  all  his  English  poetry  under 
view  at  once,  the  )-esult  has  been  that  this  mau,  who  would  have 
had  to  be  remembered  independently  as  the  type  of  English  magna- 
nimity and  political  courage,  is  laurelled  also  as  the  supreme  poet 
of  his  nation,  with  the  single  exception  of  Shakespeare. 

Much  light  is  thrown  upon  Milton's  mind  in  his  later  life,  and 
even  upon  the  poems  of  that  period,  by  his  posthumous  Latin 
Treatise  of  Christian  Doctrine.  It  differs  from  all  his  other  prose 
writings  of  any  importance  in  being  cool,  abstract,  and  didactic. 
Professing  to  bo  a  system  of  divinity  derived  directly  from  the  Bible, 
it  is  really  an  exposition  of  Milton's  metaphysics  and  of  his  reasoned 
opinions  on  all  questions  of  philosophy,  ethics,  and  politics.  The 
general  effect  is  to  show  that,  though  he  is  rightly  regarded  as  the 
very  genius  of  English  Puritanism,  its  representative  poet  and 
idealist,  yet  he  was  not  a  Puritan  of  what  may  be  called  the  first 
wave,  or  that  wave  of  Calvinistic  orthodoxy  which  broke  in  upon 
tho  absolutism  of  Charles  and  Laud,  and  set  the  English  Revolu- 
tion agoing.  He  belonged  distinctly  to  that  larger  and  more  per- 
sistent wave  of  Puritanism  which,  passing  on  through  Inde- 
pendency, included  at  length  an  endless  variety  of  sects,  many  of 
them  rationalistic  and  free-thinking  in  the  extreme,  till,  checked 
by  the  straits  of  the  Restoration,  it  had  to  contract  its  volume  for 
a  while,  and  to  reappear,  so  far  as  it  could  reappear  at  all,  in  the 
new  and  milder  guise  of  what  has  ever  since  been  known  as  English 
Liberalism.  For  example,  the  treatise  shows  that  Milton  in  his 
later  life  was  not  an  orthodox  Trinitarian,  but  an  anti-Trinitarian 
of  that  high  Arian  order,  counting  Sir  Isaac  Newton  among  its 
subsequent  English  adherents,  which  denied  the  coessentiality  or 
coequality  of  Christ  with  absolute  Deity,  but  regarded  him  as  clothed 
with  a  certain  derivative  divinity  of  a  high  and  unfathomable  kind. 
It  shows  him  also  to  have  been  Anninian,  rather  than  Calviiiistic, 
in  his  views  of  free  will  and  predestination.  It  shows  him  to 
have  been  no  Sabbatarian,  like  the  Puritans  of  the  first  wave, 
but  most  strenuously  anti-Sabbatarian.  Indeed  one  of  its  doctrines 
is  that  the  Decaloglie  is  no  longer  the  standard  of  human  morality, 
and  that  Christian  liberty  is  not  to  be  bounded  by  its  prohibitions 
or  by  any  sacerdotal  code  of  ethics  founded  on  these.  Hence,  in 
the  treatise,  not  only  a  repetition  of  Milton's  views  on  the  mar- 
riage subject  and  of  other  peculiar  tenets  of  his  that  had  been  set 
forth  in  his  pamphlets,  but  some  curious  and  minute  novelties  of 
opinion  besides.  By  far  the  most  important  revelation  of  the 
treatise,  however,  consists  in  the  very  definite  statement  it  makes 
of  Milton's  metaphysical  creed  and  of  the  connexion  of  that  creed 
in  his  mind  with  the  revealed  theology  of  Christianity.  While, 
ontologically,  he  starts  from  a  pure  spiritualistic  theism,  or  from 
the  notion  of  one  infinite  and  eteraal  Spirit  as  the  self-subsisting 
God  and  author  of  all  being,  cosuiologically  his  system  is  that 
of  a  pantheistic  materialism,  which  conceive  all  the  present  uni- 
verse, all  that  we  call  creation,  as  consisting  of  diverse  modifications, 
inanimate  or  animate,  of  one  primal  matter,  which  was  originally 
nothing  else  than  an  eBlux  or  emanation  from  the  very  substance 
of  God.  Angels  and  men,  no  less  than  the  brute  world  and  the 
things  wo  call  lifeless,  are  formations  from  this  one  original  matter, 
only  in  higher  degrees  and  endowed  with  soul  and  free  will. 
Hence  any  radical  distinction  between  matter  and  spirit,  body  and 
soul,  is,  Milton  holds,  fallacious.  The  soul  of  man,  he  holds,  is 
not  something  distinct  from  the  body  of  man  and  capable  of  existing 
apart,  but  is  actually  bound  up  with  the  bodily  organism.  There- 
fore, when  the  body  dies,  the  soul  dies  also.  a=d  the  -sbcls  xaa 
ceases  to  exist.  The  immortality  revealed  in  Scripture  fs,  tfiererore, 
not  a  continued  existence  of  the  soul  in  an  immaterial  condition 
immediately  after  death,  but  a  miraculous  revival  of  the  whole  man, 
soul  and  body  together,  at  the  resurrection,  after  an  intermediate 
sleep.  In  such  a  resurrection,  with  a  final  judgment,  a  reign  of 
Christ,  and  a  glorification  of  the  saints  in  a  new  heaven  and  a  new 
earth,  Milton  declares  his  absolute  belief.  But,  indeed,  throughout 
the  treatise,  with  all  its  differences  from  the  orthodox  interpreta- 
tions of  tiie  Bible,  nothing  is  more  remarkable  than  the  profound- 
ness  of  the  reverence  avowed  for  the  Bible  itself'.     The  very  initial 


340 


M I L  — M  I  L 


principle  of  the  treatise  i8  that,  as  the  Bible  ia  a  revelation  from 
God  of  things  that  man  could  not  have  found  out  for  himself,  all 
that  the  Bible  says  on  any  matter  is  to  be  accepted  implicitly,  in 
the  plain  sense  of  the  words,  and  without  sophistication,  however 
strange  it  may  seem  to  the  natural  human  reason.  Hence,  in  all 
those  essentials  of  Christianity  which  consist  in  the  doctrines  of 
the  fall  of  man,  atonement  by  Christ,  and  restoration  and  sanctifica- 
tion  through  Christ  only,  Milton  is  at  one  with  the  great  body  of 
Christians.  Altogether,  what  the  treatise  makes  clear  is  that,  while 
Milton  was  a  most  fervid  theist  and  a  genuine  Christian,  believing  in 
the  Bible,  and  valuing  the  Bible  over  all  the  other  books  in  the 
world,  he  was  at  the  same  time  one  of  the  most  intrepid  of  English 
thinkers  and  theologians. 

For  further  Information  reference  maybe  maae  to  Mosson'a  Life  of  Milton 
ind  History  of  his  Time,  6  vols.  (1869-80),  mid  to  lils  editions  of  Mllion's  Poedca/ 
iror*5(Carobildge- edition  in  3  vols.,  1874,  and  amaUer  3  vol.ed.,  1882),  aa  M-eli  as 
to  Todd's  varioium  edition  of  the  Poetical  Works,  with  Life  (5th  ed.,  1852),  to 
Kelghtley's  ii/e,  Opinions,  and  Writings  of  Milton  (1856).  to  Milton  tind  Seine 
Zeit,  by  Alfred  Stern  (1877-79),  and  to  Mr  Mark  Pattison's  Milton  In  Mr  Morley's 
series  of  "English  Writera."  Collective  editions  of  the  prose  works  since  that 
of  1698  are— Symmons's  (7  vols.,  1806);  Pickering's,  with  Life  by  Mitford  (8  vols., 
prose  and  verse  together,  1851) ;  and  St  John's.  In  Bohn'a  Standard  Library  (5 
vols,,  1848-53).  This  iHst  includes  a  revised  edition  of  Bishop  Sumner's  transla- 
tion of  the  Treatise  of  Christian  J)octrine,  originally  published  In  1825.    (D.  MA.) 

MILWAUKEE,  the  largest  city  in  the  State  of 
Wisconsin,  United  States,  is  situated  on  the  west  shore  of 
Lake  Michigan,  100  miles  north  of  its  southern  end,  80 
miles  north  of  Chicago,  and  1000  miles  north-west  of  New 
York  by  rail,  in  43'  3'  N.  lat.,  87°  56'  W.  long.  (44  min. 
W.  of  Washington).  The  shore  of  the  lake  is  600  fiMt 
above  the  level  of  the  sea. 

The  Milwaukee  and  Menomonee  rivers  unite  in  the 
centre  of  the  business  portion  of  the  city,  about  half  a 
mile  from  their  entrance  to  Lake  Michigan,  where  they  ai*e 
joined  by  a  third  and  smaller  stream^the  Kinnikinnic. 
A   bay  6  miles  from   cape  to  cape,  and  3- miles  broad, 


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rian  of  Milwaukee. 

stretches  in  front  of  tliocity,  which  commands  a  fine  water 
view,  the  ground  risi;ii,'  along  the  shore  80  feet  above  the 
level  of  the  lake,  the?  gradually  sloping  westward  to  the 
Milwaukee  river,  am'  :igain  rising  on  the  west  and.  north 
to  a  height  of  125  ('■•n.  The  ground  also  rises  to  a  com- 
manding elevation  si  u:h  of  the  valley  of  the  Menomonee. 
Few  cities  present  io  many  natural   attractiops   of   site, 


as  indeed  its  Indian  name  indicates  ("  the  Beantiful  hollow 
or  bay  ") ;  and  art  has  added  to  nature.  In  the  residence 
parts  of  the  city  there  are  miles  of  avenues  from  70  to  100 
feet  wide,  lined  on  both  sides  with  elms  and  maples,  be- 
hind which  stand  handsome  houses  with  spacious  lawns, 
fountains,  and  evergreens,  giving  the  appearance  of  a  con- 
tinuous park.  The  material  used  for  building  is  largely 
the  cream-coloured  brick  made  in  the  vicinity,  from  which 
Milwaukee  is  sometimes  called  the  "  Cream  City."  The 
climate,  tempered  by  the  great  lake,  is  remarkably  pleasant 
and  healthy.  The  mean  temperature,  as  shown  by  the 
records  of  twenty  years,  is  46°-7  Fahr.  The  coldest 
month  LB  January  (average  22°-37),  the  hottest  July 
(70°'4).i  During  the  last  nine  years  the  average  death- 
rate  has  been  but  20  per  1000,  showing  it  to  be  one  of  the 
healthiest  of  American  cities.  Besides  a  full  complement 
of  the  usual  religious  and  charitable  institutions,  there  \s 
adjoining  the  city  the  national  home  for  disabled  United 
States  volunteer  soldiers,  consisting  of  several  buildings 
situated  in  grounds  of  400  acres  extent,  which  serve  the 
purpose  of  a  city  park.  There  are  numerous  lodges  be- 
longing to  the  freemasons  and  other  guilds ;  and  the  Turners' 
societies,  which  embrace  a  large  membership  and  own  some 
valuable  buildings,  have  done  much  to  create  and  keep  up 
the  practice  of  athletic  exercises  among  the  citizens. -^Two 
excellent  musical  societies  are  also  established  here. 

Before  the  year  1835  Milwaukee  was  known  only  as 
an  Indian  trading-post  occupied  by  a  Frenchman  named 
Solomon  Juneau,  who  is  generally  spoken  of  as  the  founder 
of  the  city.  The  total  inhabitants  in  1838  numbered  only 
700;  in  1840  there  were  1712;  but  in  1846  the  popula- 
tion amounted  to  9666,  in  1850  to  20,061,  in  1855  to 
30,118,  in  1860  to  45,246,  in  1870  to  71,440,  and  in  1880 
to  115,378  (57,475  males,  58,103  females).  In  1882  the 
population  was  estimated  at  130,000, — more  than  one 
half  of  them  of  foreign  parentage,  a  very  large  majority 
being  Germans.  Notwithstanding  the  multitude  of  nation- 
alities represented  in  the  population,  there  are  few  cities 
more  orderly  and  law-abiding,  the  number  of  police 
employed  being  less  than  one  for  every  1500  inhabitants. 
Another  feature  worthy  of  mention  is  the  large  proportion 
of  families  who  own  their  own  houses,  and  this  is  true  not 
only  as  to  the  mercantile  and  professional  classes,  but 
especially  as  to  the  labouring  population.  Although  the 
grain  trade,  formerly  very  large  here,  has  now  greatly 
diminished,  the  growth  and  prosperity  of  the  city-have  not 
materially  suffered,  owing  to  the  developmept  of  manu- 
facturing industries,  for  which  the  low  rents,  healthy  climate, 
and  advantageous  location  make  it  well  adapted.  About  a 
sixth  of  the  population  are  engaged  in  the  manufacture  of 
clothing,  cigar.%  cooperage,  leather,  bricks,  sashes,  doors,  and 
blinds,  machinery,  and  flour  (of  which  one  million  of  barrels 
are  anniially  made),  and  in  meat-packing.  Milwaukee  has 
become  famous  for  its  "  lager  beer,"  of  which  there  are  one 
million  of  barrels  annually  produced,  valued  at  $8,000,000. 
The  lake  commerce  is  very  large.  The  tonnage  entered 
and  cleared  in  1880  was  5,322,373  tons,  being  about  as 
large  as  that  of  Baltimore,  Boston,  or  Philadelphia.  v.The 
Wisconsin  Central,  the  Milwaukee  and  Lake  Shore,  the 
Milwaukee  and  Northern,  and  the  Chicago,  Milwaukee, 
and  St  Paul  Bailwaj-s  have  their  head  offices  here,  and 
the  last-named,  owning  4000  miles  of  lines,  has  immense 
workshops  in  the  Menomonee  valley  near  the  city.j 

Milwaukee  is  governed  by  a  ma)-or  and  a '  common 
council  of  thirty-ninfe  aldermen.  '■  The  streets  and  public 
building!  are  under  the  charge  of  the  board  of  pubhc  works. 


'  The  monthly  aver»ge«  for  twenty  years  arc  :^anuary,  22''37  ; 
February,  2ri3;  March,  33°-35 ;  April,  43°-94  ;  May,  53*76; 
June,  64°-39;  July,  "0°04;  August,  67°S»;  Scptomb-r,  cr.;68; 
October,  .48°i8j,November,  36°j27  ;  December,  25".M> 


M I W— M I 


S4I 


eompoied^f  three  commissioners  and  the  city  engineer,  all 
subject  to  the  common  council.  A  bountiful  supply  of 
'water  is  obtained  from  the  lake,  ancf  the  streets  are  well 
supplied  with  sewers.  The  value  of  property  as  assessed  for 
taxation  was  |62,0'0O,00O  .in  1882,— the  city  debt,  being 
$2,500,000,  mostiy, for. the  water- works,  which  are  city 
property.  <'' 

There  is  an  efficient  system  of  public  schools  under  a 
superintendent  and  board  of  .gchool  commissioners,  the 
value  of  the  buildings  with  their  sites  being  estimated  at 
$700,000.  For  the  higher  education  there  are  a  high  school, 
a  normal  school,  and  three  commercial  colleges,  while  the 
Eoman  Catholics  and  Lutherans  have  several  excellent 
denominational  seminaries  and  colleges.  A  public  library 
belonging  to  the  city  contained  20,000  volimies  in 
1882.  (j.  J.) 

MIMICRY  is  the  name  given  in  biology  to  the  advan- 
tageous resemblance  (usually  protective)  which  one  species 
of  animal  or  plant  often  shows  to  another.  The  word  was 
first  applied  in  this  metaphorical  sense  by  Mr  W.  H.  Bates, 
'and  it  has  since  been  accurately  defined  and  limited,  in  its 
biological  application,  by  Mr  A.  JR.  Wallace.  Briefly  put, 
the  essence  of  the  phenomenon  of  mimicry  consists  in  the 
following  relation.  -  A,  certain  species  of  plant  or  animal 
possesses  some  special  means  of  defence  from  its  enemies, 
such  as  a  sting,  a  powerful  and  disagreeable  odour,  a 
nauseous  taste,  or  a  hard  integument.  Some  other  species 
inhabiting  tie  same  district  or '  a  part  of  it,  and  not  itself 
provided  with  the  same  special  means  of  defence,  closely 
resembles  the  first  species  in  all  external  points  of  form 
and  colour,  though  often  very  different  in  structure  and 
unrrfated  in  the  biological  order.  For  example,  a  South- 
American  family  of  butterflies,  the  Heliconidx,  are  distin- 
.guished  by  their  very  varied  and  beautiful  colours,  and 
their  slow  and  wetily  flight;  they  might  easily  be 
captured  by  insectivorous  birds,  but  their  remains  are  never 
found  on  the  ground  amongst  the  rejected  wings  of  other 
butterflies  which  cover  the  soil  in  many  places.  They  also 
possess  a  strong  pungent  odour,  which  clings  to  the  fingers 
for  many  days ;  and  this  fact  led  Mr  Wallace  to  suspect 
that  they  have  a  disagreeable  taste,  and  would  not  there- 
fore be  eaten  by  birds  after  a  single  trial  Mr  Belt  has 
since  experimentally  proved  the  truth  of  that  belief.  But 
among  tiie  totally  distinct  family  of  the  Pieridse,  most  of 
[which  are  white,  there  is  a  genus  of  small  butterflies, 
known  as  Leptalis,  edible  by  birds,  some  species  of  which 
are  white  like  their  allies,  while  the  greater  number  exactly 
resemble  one. or  other  of  the  Heliconida  in  the  peculiar 
shape  and  colouring  of  their  wings.  As  regards  structure, 
the  two  families  are. widely  different;  yet  the  resemblance 
of  a  species  of  one  family  to  a  species  of  the  other  is  often 
so  close  that  Mi  Bates  and  Mr  Wallace,  experienced 
entomologists,  frequently  mistook  them  for  one  another  at 
the  time  of  capture,  arid  only  discovered  their  mistake 
tipon  nearer  examination.  Mr  Bates  observed  several 
species  or  varieties  of  Leptalis  in  the  Amazons  valley,  each 
of  which  more  or  less  exactly  copied  one  of  the  Heliconida 
in  its  own  district.  Accordiiigly,  they  seem  to  be  mistaken 
ty  birds  for  the  uneatable  insects  they  mimic,  and  so  to  be 
benefited  by  their  resemblance.  This,  which  may  perhaps 
be  regarded  as  the  most  typical  instance  of  true  mimicry, 
is  also  the  firslj  to  which  the  word  was  applied. 

jIn  considering  the  phenomena  under  review,  it  may.  be 
:well  to  give  first  the  chief  observed  facts,  which  are  quite 
independent  of  any  particular  explanation,  and  then  the 
"^eory  which  has  been  started  to  account  for  them  by  Mr 
Bates  and  Mr  Wallace.  Before  doing  so,  however,  true 
mimicry  shouU  be  carefully  discriminated  from  one  or 
two  superficially  similar  modes  of  resemblance  among 
crg<^c  beings,  whose  real  inyjlications  are  vsiy  difierent. 


It  must  not  be  confused  with  mere  accidental  or  adaptive 
resemblance,  due  either  to  simple  chance  or  to  similarity 
of  external  condition^.  As  a  case  of  the  first  sort,  we  may 
adduce  the  real  or  fancied  resemblance  between  certain 
orchids  and  flies  or  spiders ;  as  a  case  of  the  second  sort, 
we  may  take  certain  African  Euphorbia cese,  which,  growing 
in  dry  deserts,  have  acquired  a  very  close  likeness  to  the 
cactuses  that  cover  the  equally  dry  deserts  of  Mexico ;  or 
again  the  sub-Antarctic  gallinaceous  bird,  Chionis  alha, 
which,  living  on  the  sea-shore,  has  acquired  a  coloration 
like  that  of  the  gulls,  together  with  the  legs  of  a  wader. 
These  resemblances,  however,  do  not  as  such  subserve  any 
function.  The  species  apparently  mimicking  and  the 
species  apparently  mimicked  either  do  not  ii  habit  the 
same  district  or  do  not  come  into  any  definite  r  Nation  with 
one  another.  The  likeness  is  either  accident  !.  or  else  it 
is  due  to  similar  adaptation  to  similar  circun  'ances.  In 
cases  of  true  mimicry,  on  the  other  hand,  th'  laimicking 
species  derives  a  direct  advantage  from  its  Ul  -  iiess  to  the 
species  mimicked  ;  the  resemblance  is  decepti  ;  and  this 
is  equally  true  whether  we  suppose  the  mimii-; ;,  to  be  pro- 
duced by  creative  design  or  by  natural  selectioii.  On  either 
hypothesis,  however  it  came  by  its  likeness,  th:-  mimicking 
species  escapes  certain  enemies  or  obtains  cei  ti.in  sorts  of 
food  by  virtue  of  its  resemblance  to  some  other  kind. 

It  should  also  be  added  that  the  word  namicry,  aa 
applied  to  such  cases,  is  used  only  in  a  metapL'-:  ical  sense. 
It  is  not  intended  to  imply  any  conscious  ir  voluntary 
imitation'  by  one  species  of  the  appearance  r :  habits  of 
another.  All  that  is  meant  is  the  fact  of  an  r  - 1  >  antageons 
resemblahce,  a  delusive  similarity,  which  gives  tli  •:  nimicking 
animal  or  plant  some  extra  protection  or  some  s  •  >.  cial  means 
of  .acquiring  food  which  it  would  not  otherw  i<  have  pos- 
sessed but  for  its  likeness  to  the  creature  miaiicked. 

Taking  animals  first,  mimicry  does  not  occur  very 
frequently  among  the  higher  classes.  In  the  v  ,  tebrates  it 
is  comparatively  rare,  and  among  mammals  pi  bably  only 
one  good  case  has  yet  been  adduced.  Thi?  is  that  of 
Cladobaies,  an  insectivorous  genus  of  the  Malayan  region, 
many  species  of  which  closely  resemble  squirrel-  in  size,  in 
colour,  and  in  the  bushiness  and  posture  of  the  tail.  It 
has  been  suggested  by  Mr  Wallace  (from  wli  mmostof 
the  f611owing  examples  have  been  borrowed)  th; '  Cladobates 
may  thus  be  enabled  to  approach  the  insects  and  mall  birds 
which  form  its  prey  under  the  disguise  of  tlie  harmless 
fruit-eating  squirrel.  In  this  case,  as  in  some  others,  the 
resemblance  is  not  protective,  but  is  apparently  useful  to 
the  animal  in  the  quest  for  food. 

Among  birds,  Mr  Wallace  has  pointed  o'lt  that  the 
general  likeness  of  the  cuckoo,  a  weak  and  defenceless 
group,  to  the  hawks  and  gallinaceous  tribe  hiakes  some 
approach  to  real  mimicry.  But  besides  such  vague  resem- 
blances there  are  one  or  two  very  distinct  cA-es  of  true 
mimicry  in  this  class  of  vertebrates.  In  A'-tralia  and 
the  Moluccas  lives  a  genus  of  duU-hued  h<  ley -suckers, 
Trojndorhynchus,  consisting  of  large,  strong,  active  birds, 
with  powerful  claws  and  sharp  beaks.  Tiiey  gather 
together  in  noisy  flocks,  and  are  very  pugnacitus,  driving 
away  crows  and  even  hawks.  In  the  same  countries  lives 
a  group  of  orioles,  forming  the  genus  Mimeta ;  and  these, 
which  are  much  weaker  birds,  have  not  the  UoVil  brilliant 
colouring  of  their  allies  the  golden  orioles,  but  ;ire  usually 
olive-green  or  brown.  In  many  cases  species  of  Mimeta 
closely  resemble  the  Tropidorhynchi  inhabiting  the  same 
island.  For  example,  on  the  island  of  Bouru  are  found 
the  Tropidorhynchus  bouruetisis  and  Mimeta  bourueruit, 
the  latter  of  which  mimics  the  formei^  jn  the  particu- 
.lars  thus  noted  by  lit  Wallace : — "  The  tipper  and  under 
surfaces  of  the  two  birds  are  exactly  of  the  same  tints  of 
dark  and  light  brown.  .  Hie  Tropidorhynckvs  has  a  large 


342 


M  I  M  I  C  K  Y 


bare  black  patch  round  the  eyes ;  this  is  copied  in  the 
Mimeia  by  a  patch  of  black  feathers.  The  top  of  the  head 
of  the  Tropidorhynchus  has  a  scaly  appearance  from  the 
narrow  scale-formed  feathers,  which  are  imitated  by  the 
broader  feathers  of  the  Mimeta  having  a  dusky  line  down 
each.  The  Tropidorhynchus  has  a  pale  ruff  formed  of 
curious  recurved  feathers  on  the  nape  (which  has  given  the 
whole  genus  the  name  of  friar-birds) ;  this  is  represented  in 
the  Mimeta  by  a  pale  band  in  the  same  position.  Lastly, 
the  bill  of  the  Tropidorhyru:hus  is  raised  into  a  pr<;tuberant 
keel  at  the  base,  and  the  Mimeta  has  the  same  character, 
although  it  is  not  a  common  one  in  the  genus.  The 
result  is  that  on  a  superficial  examination  the  birds 
are  identical,  although  they  have  important  structural 
differences,  and  cannot  be  placed  near  each  other  in  any 
natural  arrangement."  Allied  species  of  Tropidorhynchus 
in  Ceram  and  Timor  are  similarly  mimicked  by  the  local 
Mimeta  of  each  island.  Mr  Osbert  Salvin  has  Ukewise 
noticed  a  case  of  mimicry  among  the  birds  of  prey  near 
Rio  Janeiro.  An  insect-eating  hawk,  Harpagus  diodon,  is 
closely  resembled  by  a  bird-eating  hawk,  Accipiter  pilealus. 
Here  the  advantage  seems  to  be  that  the  small  birds  have 
learned  not  to.  fear  the  Harpagus,  and  the  Accipiter  is 
able  to  trade  upon  the  resemblance  by  catching  them 
unawares,  both  birds  being  reddish-brown  when  seen  from 
beneath.  But  the  Accipiter  has  the  wider  range  of  the 
two ;  and  where  the  insect-eating  species  is  not  found  it 
no  longer  resembles  it,  but  varies  in  the  under  wing-coverts 
to  white.  Here  again  the  rnsprnVilance,  though  advantage- 
ous, is  not  protective. 

Among  reptiles,  Mr  Wallace  has  instanced  some  curious 
cases  where  a  venomous  tropical  Americafa  genus  of  snakes. 
Maps,  with  brightly-banded  colours,  is  closely  mimicked 
by  several  genera  of  harmless  snakes,  having  no  affinity 
with  it,  but  inhabiting  the  same  region.  Thus  the  poison- 
ous Elaps  fulims  of  Guatemala  has  black  bands  on  a  coral- 
red  grtmnd ;  the  harmless  Plioccrus  eequalis  of  the  same 
district  is  coloured  and  banded  precisely  like  it.  The 
likeness  affords  the  unarmed  snakes  a  great  protection, 
because  other  animals  probably  will  not  touch  them,  mis- 
taking them  for  the  venomous  kinds. 

It  is  among  the  invertebrates,  however,  and  especially 
among  insects,  that  cases  of  mimicry  are  most  frequent  and 
were  first  observed.  In  the  order  Lepidoptera,  besides  the 
classical  instance  of  Leptalis  and  the  Jleliconidx,  a  genus 
of  another  family,  the  Erycinidse,  also  mimics  the  same 
group.  The  flocks  of  one  species  of  Ithomia,  an  uneatable 
butterfly,  often  have  flying  with  them  a  few  individuals  of 
three  other  widely  different  genera,  quite  indistinguishable 
from  them  when  on  the  wing.  In  the  tropics  of  the  Old 
World,  the  Danaidm  and  Acreeidic 'possess  a  similar  protec- 
tive odour,  and  are  equally  abundant  in  individuals ;  they 
are  closely  mimicked  by  various  species  of  Papilio  and 
Diadema.  Mr  Trimen,  in  a  paper  on  "  Mimetic  Analogies 
among  African  Butterflies,"  gives  a  list  of  sixteen  species  or 
varieties  of  Diadema  or  its  allies,  and  ten  species  of  Papilio, 
each  of  which  mimics  a  Danais  or  Acrica  of  the  same 
region  in  the  minutest  particulars  of  form  and  colour. 
The  Danais  tytia  of  India  has  semi-tran.sparent  bluish 
wings,  and  a  border  of  reddish-brown  ;  this  coloration  is 
exactly  reproduced  in  Papilio  agestor  and  Diadema  nama, 
all  three  insects  frequently  coming  together  in  collections 
from  Darjiling.  In  the  Malay  Archipelago  the  common 
and  beautiful  Euplma  midnmuf  is  so  exactly  mimicked  by 
two  rare  species  of  Papilio  that  Mr  Wallace  generally 
mistook  the  latter  at  first  for  the  ordinary  insect.  An 
immense  number  of  other  instances  among  the  Lepidoptera 
have  been  quoted  from  other  parts  of  the  world. 
\  Occasionally  species  of  Lepidoptera  also  imitate  insects 
cf  other  orders.     Many  of  them  take  on  the  appearance  of . 


bees  or  wasps,  which  are  of  course  protected  by  their  stings.. 
Thus  the  Sesiidse  and  J!geriidm,  two  families  of  diurnal 
moths,  have  species  so  like  hymenopterous  insects  that 
they  are  known  by  such  names  as  apiformis,  vespiforme, 
ichn,eumoniforme,  sphegiforme,  and  so  forth.  The  British 
sesia  bombiliformis  closely  resembles  the  humble  bee ;  the 
Sphecia  craboniformis  is  coloured  like  a  hornet,  and  carries 
its  wings  in  the  same  fashion.  Some  Indian  Lepidoptera 
have  the  hind  legs  broad  and  densely  hairy,  so  as  exactly 
to  imitate  the  brush-legged  bees  of  the  same  country.  Mr 
Belt  mentions  a  Nicaraguan  moth,  Pionia  lycoides,  which 
closely  mimics  a  distasteful  coleopterous  genus,  Calopteron ; 
and  Professor  Westwood  pointed  out  that  the  resemblance 
to  the  beetle  is  still  further  increased  in  the  moth  by  raised 
lines  of  scales  running  lengthwise  down  the  thorax. 

Among  the  Coleoptera,  or  beetles,  and  other  orders, 
simOar  disguises  are  not  uncommon.  Mr  Belt  noticed 
species  of  Hemiptera  and  Coleoptera,  as  well  as  spiders,  in 
Nicaragua,  which  exactly  resemble  stinging  ants,  and 
thus  no  doubt  escape  the  attacks  of  birds.  The  genus 
Calopteron  is  mimicked  by  other  beetles,  as  well  as  by  tku 
moth  Pionia.  In  the  same  country,  one  of  the  Hemiptera, 
Spiniger  luteicomis,  has  every  part  coloured  like  'the  horne^ 
Priocnemis,  which  it  mimics ;  "  in  its  vibrating  coloured 
wing-cases  it  departs  greatly  from  the  normal  character  of 
the  Hemiptera,  and  assumes  that  of  the  hornets."  Mr 
Wallace  mentions  the  longicom  beetle,  Cyclopeplus  batesii, 
which  "differs  totally  in  outward  appearance  from  every 
one  of  its  allies,  having  taken  upon  itself  the  exact  shape 
and  colouring  of  a  globular  Corynomalus,  a  little  stinking 
beetle,  with  clubbed  antenna."  Erythroplatis  corallifer, 
another  longicom,  almost  exactly  resembles  Cephalodonta 
spinipes,  one  of  the  common  South-American  Hispidse, 
which  possesses  a  disagreeable  secretion ;  and  Mr  Bates 
also  found  a  totally  different  longicom,  Streptolabis 
hispoides,  which  resembles  the  same  insect  with  equal 
minuteness.  Some  of  the  large  tropical  weevils  have  the 
elytra  so  hard  that  they  cannot  be  pierced  by  a  bird's 
beak  ;  and  these  are  mimicked  by  many  other  comparatively 
soft  and  eatable  insects.  In  southern  Brazil,  A  canthotritus 
dorsalis  closely  resembles  a  Curcnlio  of  the  hard  genus 
Heiliplus ;  and  Mr  Bates  found  Gymnoeerus  cratosomoides, 
a  longicorn,  on  the  same  tree  with  the  hard  weevil, 
Cratosomus,  which  it  mimics.  Other  beetles  resemble 
bees,  wasps,  and  shielded  bugs.  Hairy  caterpillars  are 
well  known  to  be  distasteful  to  birds,  and  comparatively 
free  from  attack ;  and  Mr  Belt  found  a  longicorn, 
Desmiphora  fasciculata,  covered  with  long  brown  and 
black  hairs,  and  exactly  mimicking  some  of  the  short, 
thick,  woolly  caterpillars  common  on  the  bushes  around. 

Amongst  other  orders,  one  of  the  most  interesting  cases 
is  that  of  certain  Diptera  or  two-winged  flies  which  mimic 
wasps  and  bees.  Sometimes  this  likeness  only  serves  to 
protect  the  insect  from  attack,  by  inspiring  fear  of  a  sting. 
But  there  are  also  a  number  of  parasitic  flies  whose  larvae 
feed  upon  the  larva;  of  bees,  as  in  the  British  genua 
Voliicetla  ;  and  these  exactly  mimic  the  bees,  so  that  they 
can  enter  the  nests  or  hives  to  deposit  their  eggs  without 
being  detected  even  by  the  bees  themselves.  In  every 
country  where  such  flies  occur  they  resemble  the  native 
bees  of  the  district.  Similarly,  Mr  Bates  found  a  speciea 
of  Mantis  on  the  Amazons  which  exactly  mimicked  the 
white  ants  on  which  it  fed.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
defenceless  species  itself  may  mimic  its  persecutor,  as  in 
the  case  of  several  crickets,  Scaphura,  that  exactly  resenible 
various  sand-wasps,  and  so  escape  the  depredations  of 
those  cricket-killing  enemies.  Another  cricket  from  the 
Philippine  Islands,  Condylodera  triccndyloides,  so  closely 
copies  a  tiger-beetle,  Trieondyla,  that  even  Professor 
Westwood  long  retained  it  amoug  that  group  in  his  cabinet, 


MIMICRY 


343 


and  only  slowly  discovered  his  mistake.  The  cases  here 
mentioned  form  but  a  small  part  of  all  those  that  have 
hitherto  been  observed  and  described  in  the  insect  world. 
They  amount  altogether  to  many  hundreds. 

Among  plants,  though  included  io  the  above  definition 
for  the  sake  of  formal  completeness,  instances  of  true 
mimicry  are  rare  or  almost  unknown.  Perhaps  the  nearest 
approach  to  this  phenomenon  in  the  vegetal  world  is  found 
in  the  resemblance  borne  by  the  dead-nettle,  Lamium 
album,  and  a  few  other  labiates,  to  the  stinging  nettle, 
Urtica  dioica  and  U.  urem.  The  true  nettles  are  strik- 
ingly protected  from  animal  foes  by  their  stinging  hairs ; 
and  the  general  appearance  of  the  dead-nettle  is  sufficiently 
like  them  to  prevent  human  beings  from  plucking  it,  and 
therefore  probably  to  deter  herbivorous  mammals  from 
eating  it  down.  Mr  Mansel  Weale  mentions  another 
labiate,  Ajuga  ophrydis,  of  South  Africa,  which  closely 
resembles  an  orchid,  -and  may  thus  induce  insects  to 
fertilize  its  flowers.  Mr  Worthington  Smith  has  found 
three  rare  British  fungi,  each  accompanying  common 
species  which  they  closely  resembled ;  and  one  of  the 
common  species  possesses  a  bitter  and  nauseous  taste ;  so 
that  this  would  seem  to  be  a  case  of  true  mimicry.  Many 
diverse  instances  alleged  by  Mr  k.  W.  Bennett,  Dr  Cooke, 
and  others  cannot  be  considered  as  genuine  mimetic  resem- 
blances in  the  sense  here  laid  down.  They  are  mere 
coincidences  or  similar  adaptations  to  similar  needs ;  and 
the  word  ought  to  be  applied  strictly  to  such  likenesses 
alone  as  benefit  the  organism  in  which  they  occur  by  caus- 
ing it  to  be  mistaken  for  another  possessing  some  special 
advantage  of  its  own. 

The  theoretical  explanation  of  mimicry  on  evolutionary  principles 
may  best  be  considered  in  connexion  with  the  general  subject  of 
protective  coloration  and  variation  in  form,  of  which  it  ia  a  very 
special  case.  There  are  two  ways  in  which  imitative  colouring  may 
benefit  a  species.  It  may  help  the  members  of  the  species  to  escape 
the  notice  of  enemies,  or  it  may  help  them  to  deceive  prey.  In  the 
first  case  imitative  hues  enable  the  animal  or  plant  to  avoid  being 
itself  devoui'ed  ;  in  the  second  case  they  enable  it  to  devour 
others  more  easily,  and  so  to  secure  a  larger  amount  of  food  than 
less  deceptively  coloured  compeers.  In  the  former  instance  we 
must  suppose  that  such  indiriouals  as  did  not  possess  the  deceptive 
colouring  have  been  discovered  and  destroyed  by  enemies  with 
highly  developed  sight,  while  those  which  possessed  it  have  survived. 
In  the  latter  instance  we  must  suppose  that  the  individuals  which 
have  no  protective  colouring  have  failed  to  secure  sufficient  prey, 
through  too  i-eadily  betraying  their  presence,  and  that  only  thos« 
which  possessed  such  colouring  have  become  the  parents  of  future 
generations.  It  is  difficult,  however,  to  separate  these  two  cases, 
and  in  mauy  instances  the  same  colouring  may  aid  a  species  both 
in  escaping  its  peculiar  enemies-«nd  in  deceiving  its  peculiar  prey. 
They  may  therefore  most  conveniently  be  considered  together. 

Colour  is  always  liable  to  vary  from  individual  to  individual,  as 
we  see  in  the  case  of  domesticated  fowls,  rabbits,  dogs,  and  other 
animals,  as  well  as  in  most  cultivated  flowers,  wherever  natural 
selection  cannot  act  to  keep  the  tj-pical  specific  hues  pure  and  true. 
But  in  a  wild  state  certain  conspicuous  colours  are  sure  to  prove 
disadvantageous  by  betraying  the  individual,  and  these  will  sooner 
or  later  get  weeded  out,  under  certain  circumstances,  either  through 
the  action  of  enemies  or  by  starvation  resulting  from  the  inability 
to  escape  the  notice  of  prey.  On  the  other  hand,  certain  other 
colours  are  sure  to  benefit  the  individual  by  harmonizing  with  the 
tints  of  the  environment  and  these  will  be  spared  by  natural 
selection,  so  tliat  the  individuals  possessing  them  will  pair  with 
one  another,  and  will  hand  down  their  peculiarities  to  their  de- 
scendants. In  this  way  many  species  will  acquire  and  retain  a 
coloration  that  harmonizes  vpith  tbeir  environment  as  a  whole  or 
with  some  special  part  of  it.  The  degree  to  which  the  protective 
coloration  will  be  carried,  however,  must  depend  upon  the  sharp- 
ness of  the  senses  in  those  other  organisms  which  it  is  desirable  to 
deceive.  Large  dominant  herbivorous  or  frugivorous  mammals  or 
binls,  with  relatively  few  enemies,  would  not  be  benefited  by 
protective  coloration,  and  so  they  seldom  exhibit  it.  The  grasses 
or  fruits  on  which  they  feed  cannot  make  any  attempt  to  escape 
them.  But  carnivores  generally  require  to  deceive  their  prey,  and 
therefore  a  large  number  of  them  exhibit  marked  deceptive  colouring. 
Still  more  especially  ds  small  defeaceless  birds  or  mammals  need 
to  escape  the  notice  of  the  carnivores,  and  they  accordingly  very 
pnendly  possess  dull  colours,  because  any  variation  in  the  (Urectioa 


of  conspicuousness  is  certain  to  be  promptly  cut  off.  Above  «!!, 
among  insects,  which  are  so  largely  the  prey  of  birds,  of  reptiles, 
and  of  other  animals  possessing  highly  developed  vision,  protectiva 
coloration  in  one  form  or  other  is  almost  universal,  except  »here 
a  nauseous  taste,  hairy  skin,  or  hard  external  coverings  afford  a 
different  kind  of  protection.  In  every  case  the  weeding  oat  of 
Ul-protected  forms  must  depend  upon  the  relative  keenness  of  viaion 
in  the  various  enemies  or  of  the  prey,  be  they  mammals,  hiids, 
reptiles,  insects,  or  spiders.  Hence  the  existence  of  protective 
coloring  and  of  mimicry  incidenUUy  affords  us  valuable  hinia  m 
to  the  perceptive  faculties  of  the  various  classes  against  which  each 
organism  is  thus  unconsciously  guarded. 

Where  the  general  aspect  of  the  environment  is  most  uniform, 
and  where  little  but  a  vague  impression  of  colour  without  individual 
form  can  be  conveyed,  the  hues  of  animals  are  also  usually  uniform, 
to  match  their  surroundings,  and  no  special  imitative  adaptations 
of  form  occur.  Thus,  among  the  Arctic  snows,  a  brown  or  black 
animal  would  immediately  be  perceived,  and  if  defenceless  at  once 
devoured,  while  if  a  carnivore  it  would  seldom  or  never  approach 
unperceived  near  enough  to  its  prey  to  effect  a  capture.  Hence  all 
such  variations  are  at  once  repressed,  and  almost  all  Arctic  animals, 
like  the  American  polar  hare,  are  pure  white.  Elsewhere  bears  ai« 
black  or  brown  ;  in  the  polar  region  the  native  species  is  nearly 
indistinguishable  from  the  snow  in  which  it  lives.  Where  the 
environment  undergoes  a  regular  change  from  season  to  season  the 
colour  of  the  fauna  varieS  with  it.  The  Arctic  fox,  the  ermine,  the- 
alpine  hare,  the  ptarmigan  and  many  other  birds,  are  all  more  or 
less  brown  among  the  brown  hill-sides  of  autumn,  and  snow-white 
among  the  ^vinter  snows.  Almost  equally  general  is  the  sandy 
colour  of  deserts,  though  this,  instead  of  being  uniform,  is  slightly 
varied  from  grain  to  grain  ;  and  nearly  all  the  birds,  reptiles,  and 
insects  of  Sahara  exactly  copy  the  sandy  grey  hue  of  the  desert 
around  them.  Soles  and  other  flat-fish  {PUuro;vxlidse)  closalr 
imitate  the  colour  and  speckled  appearance  of  the  sand  on  whion 
they  lie.  The  fishes  and  crustaceans  which  Inhabit  the  sargasso 
weed  are  coloured  the  same  yellow  as  the  masses  of  algae  to  which 
.tiiey  cling.  Aphides  and  many  small  leaf-eating  caterpillars  ape 
bright  green  like  the  neighbouring  foliage. 

Where  the  environment  is  somewhat  more  diverge,  thffresemblance 
begins  to  show  more  specialized  features.  The  lion,  a  large  ground- 
cat  of  desert  or  rocky  districts,  is  uniformly  brown  ;  but  the  tiger 
and  other  jungle-cats  have  perpendicular  stripes  which  harmonize 
with  the  bamboos  and  brown  grass  of  their  native  haunts  ;  while 
the  leopards,  jaguars,  and  other  iree-cats  have  ocellated  spots  which 
conceal  them  among  the  mingled  light  and  shade  of  the  for^stsi 
Large  marine  animals  have  the  back  black,  because  the  water  looks 
dark  when  seen  from  above,  but  their  belUes  are  white,  so'  as  to. 
harmonize  with  the  colour  of  the  surface  when  seen  from  below. 
Dr  Weismann  has  shown  that  most  edible  unprotected"  caterpillare 
imitate  the  stripes  and  shades  of  the  leaves  among  which  they  feed. 
Those  which  live  upon  grasses  are  longitudinally  striped  like  the 
blades,  those  which  live  among  small  leaves  are  spotted  and  varied 
so  as  to  resemble  the  distribution  of  light  and  shade  in  the  bushes, 
and  those  which  live  upon  large  veined  leaves  with  ohliqne  ribs 
have  oblique  lines  to  harmonize  with  them.  In  some  cases  even 
the  unripe  berries  are  represented  on  the  caterpillar  by  small  reddish 
spots.  A  specialized  form  of  this  particular  protective  device  is 
found  in  the  chameleon,  the  chameleon-shrimp,  many  flat-fish,  and 
some  amphibians,  all  of  which  can  vary  their  coloration  to  suit 
that  of  the  surface  on  which  they  rest.  The  action  is  reflex,  and 
ceases  if  the  animal  is  blinded. 

Where  the  environment  is  very  varied,  as  in  tropical  forests,  we 
find  the  greatest  variety  of  colouring  as  well  as  actual  imitation 
of  particular  forms  ;  and  the  protective  resemblances  become  at 
once  closer  and  more  common.  Birds,  reptiles,  spidei-s,  monkeys, 
and  other  active  predaceous  creatures  are  constantly  hunting  for 
insects  and  similar  small  prey  amongst  the  fallen  sticks  or  leaves; 
and  among  the  most  powerless  classes  of  insects  only  those  which 
very  closely  resemble  specific  objects  in  the  environment  can  easily 
escape  them.  A  gradual  passage  can  be  traced  from  the  most 
general  to  the  most  special  resemblances  under  such  circumstances. 
Many  forestine  birds  nave  a  ground. tone  of  green  in  their  plumage, 
which  occurs  nowhere  but  in  the  tropics.  Some  tree-lizards  are 
green  like  the  leaves  oi-  which  they  sit,  others  are  marbled  to 
resemble  the  bark  where  they  lie  in  wait  for  their  prey.  Arboreal 
snakes  often  hang  like  lianas  or  other  creepers.  Insects  which 
cling  to  the  trunks  of  trees  can  seldom  be  distinguished  from  the 
bark.  A  Sumatran  butterfly,  Kallhna  paraUtJa,  always  settles  oii 
dry  bushes  among  dead  leaves,  and  can  then  hardly  be  perceived 
among  the  brown  foliage,  which  it  imitates  even  in  the  appapeat 
blotches  and  mildew  with  which  its  wings  are  covered.  The  lamUy 
of  Phasmids,  including  the  leaf  and  stick  insects,  carries  sucL 
forms  of  imitation  very  far  indeed.  Most  of  them  are  large,  soft, 
defenceless  creatures  ;  but  some,  like  PhijUium,  closely  resemble 
green  leaves,  so  as  to  be  almost  indistinguishable  while  feeding ; 
and  others  exactly  imitate  short  broken  twigs  of  bamboo.  Air 
Wallace  found  one  such  insect,  Ceroxylus  lacerat'its,  m  BomeOa 


,344 


prolonged  into  ^in"  Xfi^^  p;^bX^^kt1he'^J  "" 
whilfi  Sir  Ph.rl  J  TVii,  f  J  -^  "^  singular  likeness  to  a  leaf- 
Thus    aororrurr*     »r    n  !'  *'™''"  Phenomena  somet  mes  occur. 

Sdwithllnil  '"^'^'  by  which   it   is  surrounded,   and 

fttV'arnVre^^ltorCtTrfl^^s"""''  hide  its  predaceous  nature 
B^ow'lit'  'R,!rn"  ^"divided  from  true  mimicry  by  a  very 
^^  in  t),  >  *'^-  '*'''^''  '"  ">«  f'"^'  t''"'  some  vague  object 

te^t^ed  sne  iS"r  ir"™"""'"'-'^  "'"■"'»*^'^-  ■""  »  P-rtfcu  a? t  ! 
tectea  species,  as  in  genuine  mimetic  resemblance  If  we  al^^w 
however,  that  natural  selection  can  produce  the  white  colour  of 
Arctic  animals,  and  the  sandy  hue  0/ the  sole  and  the  flounder   if 

L":L\Tnfect*\"ru't;  "'r  P"""^'^'^  totheleaVlrctl-nd 
,  ,  ,.  '°=«<=t.  or  even  to  real  mimicry,  as  in  the  ca«e  nf  tl,n 
W^lrs^nitUjfeliconui^,  Certain  PhaLidLmTy  aTfirst  have 
varied   m   the   direction    of   green   coloration,    ^d   these  loud 

oiaiscnmination  in  the  enemies  of  the  species  At  this  qt^un  tl,o 
oidinary  green  P!un„nd^  would  often  be'lilled,  while  out®  hoe 
wh^ch  tiappened  to  approximate  rudely  in  the  vena  ion  of  their 
Z.^f  fh'^I- V"'^."""  "^'^^P"  th^  sharper  and  mo"  experienced 
eyes  of  the  birds.  Thus  step  by  sten  the  di,i,ni,o  „„„i  ?T 
mo,,  and  mo«  perfect,  onIy?he'bi7protectd®      ea:h  gene^^Z 

^vTedVnd  dt::;7'G"':^th"  '"^  ?°--p™'^=''""-' """'^i- 

The  phenomena  of  true  mimicry  may  be  explained  bv  a  narallel 

protection    because  they  enable  birds^eadily  to  discr  minateThem 
^d  the'h  r  TZ'"u  '''''^'-  J""'  ''  ">^  ''^"J«d  bo^;  of  the  waT; 

exc?p  Cr  he^m^  t  Tl  '7°  '^  '"  ^"s"'  ^  toicdve  bS^! 

inedible   kind     and    t^       ^f  7  most  in  the  same  direction  as  the 
d^sll^o'^^dl'w'hile^JhV,^  s\'n^'iU^fwUrbe''',e'f?t'''""''   ^b"   "' 

^cirriuet  '"c^Tr-?"'  f' o'whr^:'i,/vrnti  ,°j: 
p^cktrrt-ever;Tafcr;y:'rd':pr„"'^ruhrbe'j'''"'"'.pr" 

iha:?-i-tr^--33£^^^^^ 

of  legs   or    antenna,    and    so  firth      The    hmH  "PP'^'rance 

T      1-1      P        resemblance  in  form  and  hue 
In    like  manner   we  may  explain  the   wneQi.   «f  ti,.,       •      .• 
r^cmblan™  borne  by  T./L//;  to"th7huTbirbee    'sup^sT an 

^d^ll'e"    %l:-rT  '"'  "^r:  "°^''  ''  """'''  "^  "t  once  "Kk  d 

the  beo  it  „,;.v,f  presented  some  very  slight  resemblance  to 

P"  "t  might  manage  to  lay  its  eggs  undisturbed    and  it.  larvm 

each  new  generation  the  more  rfimsy  distuises  would  be  more  and 
-nore  roaddy  detected,  and  only  those  tfics  which  varied  Zt  if 


MIMICRY 


the  direction  of  resembling  the  bees  wonld  snirive  or  kv  tl,«5, 

5iS&  £«'•■?'  ^■"~..':  sS.r.L's 

oiten  imitate  the  same  protected  form.     It  al.50  accounts  fnr  tb. 

and  marvelloi^s  fact  to  a  particular  case  of  a  well-known  law  ^ 
Whatever  theory  be  adopted,  however,  the  facts  and  mo.t  of 
their  implications  remain  the  same .  For,  Whether  we  sunpoTe  fhet 
sur'  ivir  fT'^^'^r^  to  be  due  to  diVect  creative  Ts^^^^': 
survival  of  favourable  variations,  it  is  at  least  clear  that  the  dismiise 

HencT^e^mlTIZ-f'^'   'i*^  1'"^°'"'   -i'nola'cdSr 


imijortant.  psychological    im.licafions:~bn    the"'h;^;(h^r':^ 
that  the  municry  can  never  go  further  than 


evolution,  it  is  obvious 

tho  CO.,        f.u  "'"' '•"°  '""""-'.V  can  never  so  further  than 

wo^  d^uaVu  '  ,';"'^"'"/«''"/'  "''°"  '^'  '^'^g"^^  "  advan^^S 
destn  ?t  i/J;^     if  It;  and  even  on  the  hypothesis  ofljecial 

accu^ratethl  .on  !.  K^  **"'  '^t  '""='"°"  """'-l  '"'  niade  more 
Ther»  t*"^  V"  d  be  necessary  for  practical  purposes  of  deception 
There  is  much  evidence  in  favour  of  this  view.  Mr  B  T  L^wne" 
tZZt'  "■'","  ^^  --f^l'yneasured  the  curvature  of  the  fceta 
in  the  compound  eyes  of  insects,  upon  which  depends  the  minimnm 
size  of  apprehensible  objects,  finds^that  the  mSy  n  the  cT^f 
ihe  flies  parasitic  upon  bees'  nests  has  proceeded  just  so  far  «  the 

otC  w^H  '  )'"'  '^'  "°"'''  ^"'^  "^  '°  '■■'P^^t.  ""d  no  furthe"  In 
other  words,  so  far  as  measurements  of  an^lar  distance  subtended 
canguide  us,  such  a  fly  seems  to  be  absolutely  indistinguishable  by 

visbn  The°nl°/'"'  "7  'P'"l''  "'"■'"  '''^  li-^its^f  orc^nar^ 
h  „f?'    J      P'-^tpres  cast  upon  the  sensorium  by  the  fly  and  by  i 

sho  ™  tw  tb'  ""P-^  "'°"'"'-  ^^  -"^"y  o*>'"  ^«^s^  "  ^^n  bt 
eves  of  »  1  ,  "™'7y  ^<=™s  specially  intended  to  deceive  the 
SimicrvwCt^"  1  '  of  animals;  while  there  is  no  case  of 
rnimals  N.fnl^i  ,1^  """""J  "'  ^"^  '^''"^'^'  "^  P'^^'s  or  eyeless 
animals.  Naturally  there  can  be  no  mimicry  without  a  creature  to 
deceive  ;  the  very  conception  implies  an  external  nervouT  Zm 

:^KmTsrL;"e''±ut1oX^ere:«mairrni5^ 

fngiTirariri' leYf""'  r  °"°"'"- .  ^  -^  -iTc^^c^^! 

ingiy,  that  it  a  leaf-insect  is  green  with  faint  violet-brown  veina 
t  optlTrff'  «^^"y  "^'.''.""ain  leaf,  in  order  to  deccTv  sund" 
tropica    birds,  then  those  birds  are  capable  of/perceiving  the  fon2 

mimirr  "iranv""'"^  '°  *^"'  P,"""''"  ''^S^"  ^o  the^r«  nceTf 
^o?»r  ^  r^i,  ^  ^  "P  ""^  f""'^  •"  '°  "  ^°"?h  "<■='  of  the  perceptive 
powers  of  those  creatures  whom  the  mimicry  serves  to  deceive  Th» 
exact  imitation  of  sand  and  coloured  pebbles  in  the  flat-fish  is  a 
airly  safe  mdicat.on  that  the  predaceous  fish  by  whose  seJect^on 
they  have  been  developed  (through  the  weeding  out  of  ilbprotw ted 
variations)  can  prettv  accurately  distinguish  form  and  colour  The 
long  green    pipe  fisli    which   cling  ai^iund   green   sea-we^   have 

sharks  ^he'^wlA"';"  """"«  '""f  '°  ^"''''  ">'  "^^  "f  ^»»I1 
cte  vlikea  nS^f^'^il""'/  hippocampu6  which'  looks  p„. 
n  sw  1!  ?  , .?'  '^"^'P"*  ^""^  '"'"K  fucus  (see  figure,  vol  xi 
p.  862),  has  doubtless  in  the  same  way  taken  on  its  delu  ive  like: 
ness  to  the  alga)  among  which  it  lives.  So  the  cricket  which 
shr"ami'hu/°bv"de  ""'""r   ""^'   have  gained^uV'pretit 

gestTthe  probabi,fty':;'^;;h«,;x:r;':i  ?;i„"':[r°[,:  ■; -«; 

tne  wasps  Ihore  seems  every  reason  to  believe  that  in  manv 
instances  insects,  spiders,  and  even  lizards  have  develo  ,ed  miS 
or  other  deceptive  resemblances  in  order  10  delude  th'e  eyes  Tin? 
sects;  while  in  other  cases  the  disguise  hns  been  unconscious^ 
adopted  to  deceive  fish,  amphibians, 'reptile,,  birds,  and  mammal/ 
Moreover,  we  have  some  grounds  for 'believing  that  th»  s^i^  of 
colour  ,s  exceptionally  strong  in  birds  and  in  one  or  two  insec 
JZ?.  \  ^  .l,"  """""^  '"  "'""'  ""•"'*  ">  have  proceeded  to  the 
Sacks  of  Ti*'?'"''^'  animnls  which  are  most%xposed  to  the 
aUacks  of  the.sc  claases.  or  which  would  find  it  advantageous  to 
deceive  them.     It  may  be  added  that  these  same  ch^es   m«  4e„ 

Sr  Dl^:'inTbv  ''r.'^">''"«  "'"  •'"?•"  ^""  of  "--"  snd  fruits  oS 
Mr  Uarwin  a  hypothesis,  or  are  at  least  in  any  case  most  intimatelv 

ariisp^^rT^'or^''  r»°^''°  ^'^"^'""^  --f  "tiLr  orb;::;^m^ 

^,To..T»r  ^"'-     Mimicry  is  thus  to  some  extent  a  rough 

gauge  of  the  pcfceptive  faculties  of  the  species  deceived  by  it 


MI  M  — M  I  N 


345 


,  'TirfTocal  mimicry  which  occurs  among  certain  birds,  such  as 
tho  mocking- iHrd^  stai  liug,  parrot,  auJ  bullfinch,  must  of  course  be 
placed  in  a  w[,olly  diircn-nt  category  from  these  bioKgi-ja!  cases.  It 
is  a  direct  rolitionat  result,  and  it  is  mimicry  in  a  literal  not  in  a 
figtirativo  sense.  Tho  faculty  seems  to  be  due  to  the  play-instinct 
alone,  and  not  to. subserve  any  directly  useful  function.       (G.  A.) 

MIMNERMUS,  a  Greek  elegiac  poet,  born  at  Smyrna, 
lived  about  GOO  B.C.  His  life  fell  in  the  troubled  time 
when  the  old  Greek  city  of  Smyrna  was  struggling  to 
maintain  itself  against  the  rising  power  of  the  Lydian 
kings.  One  of  the  extant  fragments  of  his  poems  refers 
to  the  struggle  and  contrasts  the  jiresent  effeminacy  of  his 
countrymen  with  the  bravery  of  those  who  had  once 
defeated  the  Lydian  king  Gyges.  The  poet  mentions  in 
another  fragment  that  he  belonged  to  the  stock  of  the 
Colophonians  who  had  seized  the  jEolic  Smyrna.  But  his 
most  important  poems  were  a  set  of  elegies  addressed  to  a 
flute-player  named  Nanno;  they  were  collected  in  twobooks 
called  after  her  name.  Hermesianax  mentions  his  love  for 
Nanno,  and  implies  that  it  was  unfortunate.  Only  a  few 
fragments  of  these  ix)em3  have ,  been  preserved ;  and  their 
soft  melancholy  tone  and  delicate  language  give  some  idea 
of  the  poet's  character.  His  ideal  is  the  sweet  soft 
luxmious  Ionian  life,  and  he  would,  enjoy  it  free  from 
sorrow  and  die  as  soon  as  he  could  no  longer  enjoy  it. 
Yet  there  is  apparent  some  of  the  old  stronger  strain  of 
character  which  in  early  time  raised  the  Ionian  cities  to 
greatness,  pride  in  the  glories  of  his  race  and  scorn  for 
those  that  are  unworthy  of  their  fathers'  renown.  His 
experience  of  life  was  evidently  sad;  he  felt  that  his 
country  was  gradually  yielding  to  the  enemy  it  had  once 
defeated,  and  he  knew  that  his  own  hopes  were  disap- 
pointed. The  sun  himself  has  endless  toils  from  rising  to 
setting  and  again  from  setting  to  rising.  The  life  of  man 
is  as  transitory  as  the  leaves  of  spring,  he  says,  referring  to 
a  passage  in  the  popijar,  epic  poetry  of  Ionia  (Iliad,  vi. 
146).  He  Avishes  to  die  in  his  sixtieth  year,  a  wish  to 
which  Solon  rejilied  bidding  him  reconsider  and  rather 
long  to  die  when  he  was  eighty  years  old.  Mimnermus 
was  the  first  to  make  the  elegiac  verse,  which  had  pre- 
viously had  more  of  the  epic  character,  the  vehicle  for  lore- 
(Kietry,  and  to  impart  to  it  the  colour' of  his  own  mind. 
He  found  the  elegy  devoted  to  objective  themes ;  he  made 
it  subjective.  He  set  his  own  poems  to  the  music  of  the 
flute,  and  the  poet  Hipponax  says  that  he  used  the  melan- 
choly yofLo^  K/joSia?.  He  bears  the  epithet  Aiyvaa-TaSi]^, 
by  which  Solon  addresses  him.  It  is  doubtful  whether 
this  epithet  is  pcculiai'  to  himself  or  whether  it  marks  him 
as  belonging  to  a  musical  and  poetic  family  or  school ;  it 
is  evidently  akin  to  the  epithet  Aiyeiai  MoC<roi. 

JIIilOSA.  The  Mimosex  (so  named  from  their  mimicry 
6i  animal  movements)  form  one  of  the  three  suborders  of 
'Lf^umiitiisce,  and  are  characterized  by  their  (usually  small) 
regular  flowers  and  valvate  corolla.  Their  28  genera  and 
HOC  species  are  aiTanged  by  Baillon  in  four  series,  of 
which  the  ncjfcias  (see  Acacia)  and  the  true  mimosas  are 
the  mo.-it  imixjrtant.  They  arc  distributed  throughout 
almost  all  tropical  and  subtropical  regions,  the  acacias 
prepoiKlerating  in  Austi-alia  and  the  true  mimosas  in 
America.  The  former  are  of  considerable  imi)ortance  as 
sources  of  timber,  gum,  and  tannin,  but  tho  latter  are  off 
much  less  economic  value,  though  a  few,  like  the  talli  (.V. 
ferni^iiini)  of  Ajabia  and  Central  Africa,  are  important 
treps.  Most  are  herbs  or  undershrubs,  but  some  South. 
American  species  are  tall  woody  climbers.  Tliey  are  ofteS* 
[ttickly.  The  roots  of  some  Brazilian  species  are  poisonou,?; 
and  that  of  Jf.  pvdica,  L.,  has  irritating  properties.  J)/. 
settsitiva  has  been  used  in  America  in  the  tr.£/itment  of 
fistiUa,  (fcc,  probably  as  aa  astringent.  The  mimosas, 
however,  owe  their  interest  and  their  extensive  culti- 
y»tipn,  partly  to   the   beauty  of  their  usually  bipinnate 

*16— 14» 


foliage,  but  still  more  to  the  remarkable  development 
in  some  species  of  the  sleep  movements  manifested  to 
some  extent  by  most  of  the  pinnate,  Zf^rMminos*,  as  well 
as  many  other  (especially  seedling)  plants.  In  the  so-called' 
"  sensitive  plants "  these  movements  not  only  take  place 
under  the  influence  of  light  and  darkness,  but  can  be  easily, 
excited  by  mechanical  and  other  stimuli.  When  stimu-' 
lated,  say  at  the  axis  of  one  of  the '  secondary  petioles,  the 
leaflets  move  upwards  on  each  side  until  they  meet,  the 
movement  being  propagated  centripetally.,  •  It  may  then 
be  communicated  to  the  leaflets  of  the  other  sepondary 
petioles,  which  close  (the  petioles,  too,  converging),  and 
thence  to  the  main  petiole,  which  sinks  rapidly  downwards 
towards  the  stem,  the  bending  taking  place  at  the  pulvinus, 
or  swollen  base  of  the  leafstalk.  See  Botany,  vol.  iv. 
p.  113,  fig.  117.  When  shaken  in  any  way,  the  leaves 
close  and  droop  simultaneously,  but  if  the  agitation  be 
continued,  they  reopen  as  if  they  had.  become  accus- 
tomed to  the  shocks.  •  The  common  sensitive  plant  of 
hot-houses  is  ^f.  pudka,  L.,  a  native  of  tropical  America 
but  now  naturalized  in  corresponding  latitudes  of  Asia  and 
Africa ;  but  the  hardly  distinguishable  M.  sensiliva  and 
others  are  also  ■  cultivated.  The  common  wild  sensitive 
plants  of  the  United  States  are  two  species  _o£  the  closely 
allied  genus  Schrankin. 

MINDANAO,  MINDOBO.  See  Philippine  IslandSV 
MINDEN,  the  chief  town  of  a  district  of  the  same  name 
in  Prussia,  province  of  Westphalia,  is  situated  about  22' 
miles  to  the  west-south-west  of  Hanover,  on  the  left  banlo 
of  the  Weser,  which  is  spanned  there  by  two  bridges.  The' 
older  parts  of  the  town  retain  an  old-fashioned  appearance,' 
with  narrow  and  crooked  streets ;  the  modern  suburbs 
occupy  the  site  of  the  former  fortifications,  t  Tbe  most 
interesting  building  is  the  Roman  Catholic  cathedral,  the 
tower  of  which,  dating  from  the  11th  century,  illustrates 
the  first  step  in  the  growth' of  the  Gothic  spire  in  Germany.' 
The  nave  was  erected  at  the  end  of^  the  13th  century,  and 
the  choir  in  1377-79.  Among  the  other  chief  edifices  ar^ 
the  old  church  of  St  Martin ;  the  town-house,  with  (4 
Gothic  fa9ade  ;  the  extensive  courthouse  ;  and  the  Govern-) 
ment  offices,  constructed,  like  many  of  the  other  buildings,' 
of  a  iKJCuliar  veined  brown  sandstone  found  in  the  district] 
Slinden  contains  a  gymnasium  and  several  hospitals,  besides 
other  charitable  institutions.  Its  industries  include  linen 
and  cotton  weaving,  dyeing,"  calico  printing,  and  the 
manufacture  of  tobacco,  leather,  lamps,  chicory,  and  chemi-j 
cals.  There  is  also  some  activity  in  the  building  of  small! 
craft..  In  1881  107  vessels  of  an  aggregate  burden  oi 
1 2,569  tons  ■  entered  and  'cleared  the  river-harbour  o^ 
Minden.     The  population  in  1880  was  17,869. 

llinden  (Mindun,  Mindo),  apparently  a  trading  place  of  some 
importance  in  the  timeof  Cliailemngne,  was  made  the  seat  of  abishoji' 
by  that  monarch,,  and  subsequently  became  a  flourishing  member 
of  the  Hanseatic  League.  In  the  isth  century  it  was  surrounded 
with  u  wall.  Punished  by  iniiitary  occupation  and  a  fine  for  its 
reception  of  the  Iteforniatioa  in  1547,  ^linden  underwent  similar 
trials  in  the  Thirty  Years'  War  aud  the  wars  of  the  French  occupa- 
tion. In  16-18  the  bishopric  was  converted  iutoa  secular  principality 
under  the  elector  of  Brandenburg.  From  1807  to  1814  Minden 
•was  included  in  the  kingdom  of  Westphalia,  and  in  the  latter  year 
it  passed  to  Prussia.  In  1816  tAe  fortifications,  which  had  been 
ra/ed  by  Frederick  the  Grcat  after  the  Seven  Years'  AVar,  were 
restorcil  and  6tii-ngtliei>€d,  and  as  a  fortress  of  the  second  rank  it 
remained  tho  chief  military  place  of  Westphalia  down  to  1872,' 
when>  the  works  wert-  finally  deniolished.  At  Tedtenli.iuscn,  3 
miles  to  tho  north  of  Minden,  tho  allied  Englisli  and  G(g-nian  troops 
\inder  the  duke  'of  Brunsn-ick  gained  a  decisive  vicf«y  over  the' 
French  in  1759.'*  About  3  miles  to" the  soutj^of  Minden  is  the 
so-called  "Porta  Westfalica,"  a  n.-nrow  and  picturesque  defile  bjj 
which  tho  Wesfr  quits  the  mountains  and  reaches  the  jilain.         . 

Mindenls  not  to  be  confoundeil  with  tlie  Hanoverian  lliiudenj 
also  sometimes  written  Minden  ()iopulation  6355),  at  the  confluence 
(Miindv.i\rj)  of  the  Werra  and  Fulda. 

MINE.     See  Mininc 


346 


MINEK ALOGY 


iPefiniri- 
'miBeral. 


Amor- 
phoas 
bodies. 


OlJstalE 


NATURAL  objects  which  are  homogeneous  in  their 
mass,  and  in  which  no  parts  formed  for  special  pur- 
poses can  be  distinguished,  are  termed  "  minerals  " ;  and 
the  branch  of  natural  science  which  treats  of  these  is 
termed  mineralogy.  Minerals  difier  from  the  structures 
treated  of  in  botany  and  zoology  in  the  three  following  par- 
ticulars. (1)  They  differ  in  the  mode  of  their  formation; 
this  has  been  accomplished,  not  by  assimilation  of  matter, 
producing  growth  from  within,  bat  by  augmentation  of  bulk 
through  accretion  of  particles  from  without.  (2)  Minerals 
are  not  heterogeneous.  ^Vhile  the  objects  treated  of  in 
ihe  other  departments  of  natural  history  consist  of  beings 
possessed  of  life,  and  having  parts  which,  being  mutually 
dependent,  cannot  be  separated  from  one  another  without 
a  more  or  less  complete  destruction  of  the  individual,  the 
objects  treated  of  under  the  department  of  mineralogy 
have  so  uniformly  consistent  an  individuality  that  they  are 
not  destroyed  by  any  separation  of  parts, — each  portion 
or  fragment  possessing  the  same  properties  and  the  same 
composition  as  the  whole.  And  (3),  while  those  beings 
which  are  possessed  of  Ufe  have  their  component  elements 
grouped  into  complexes,  for  the  most  part  capable  of  more 
or  less  freedom  of  motion  and  susceptible  of  change, 
minerals  have  a  constitution  resulting  from  chemical  attrac- 
tions alone  and  an  arrangement  of  their  parts,  under 
physical  influences,  which  has  resulted  in  rigidity  and  an 
absence  of  all  tendency  to  change. 

Form  of  Minerals — Crystallography. 

The  most  precise  definition  of  a  mineral  would  be — an 
'  fnorganic  body  possessed  of  a  definite  chemical  composition, 
jind  usually  of  a  regular  geometric  form.  Of  these,  the 
second  is  in  one  respect  the  direct  outcome  of  the  first ; 
■while  many  of  the  most  important  physical  properties  pos- 
sessed by  minerals  are  outcomes  of  the  second. 

Both  the  geometric  form  and  the  composition  of 
minerals  are  produced  and  modified  under  the  influence  of 
general  laws. 

Mineral  bodies  occur  in  the  three  physical  conditions  of 
solid,  liquid,  and  gas.  Those  now  found  in  the  last  two 
states  are  few  in  number,  and  are  of  altogether  inferior 
interest  to  those  which  occur  as  solids ;  but  there  is  reason 
to  believe  that  the  minerals  we  know  as  solids  once 
existed  in  the  liquid  or  gaseous  state,  and  that  their  pre- 
sent structure  was  determined  in  the  process  of  solidifica- 
tion. All  bodies  thus  formed  may  be  divided  into  two 
great  classes: — - 

1.  Amorphous  bodies,  or  such  as  do  not  posses.?  a  de- 
finite and  characteristic  geometrical  form.  These  (when 
transparent)  refract  light  singly  in  every  direction  (except 
when  under  stress)  :  they  are  equally  ea.sy  or  equally  diffi- 
cult to  break  in  all  directions;  when  broken  they  exhibit 
a  conchoidal  or  an  earthy  fracture ;  they  are  equally  hard 
throughout  all  their  parts ;  they  are  equally  elastic  in  all 
directions ;  they  conduct  heat  with  equal  rapidity  and  in 
equal  amount  in  all  directions. 

2.  Crystalline  bodies,  or  such  as  occur  in  definite  geo- 
metrical forms  bounded  by  flat  surfaces.  These  present 
^'.Teater  facilities  of  separation  cf  their  particles,  or  "  cleav- 
age," in  certain  directions  lying  in  determinate  planes  than 
they  do  in  others ;  most  of  them  are  neither  equally  hard 
nor  equally  elastic  in  all  directions,  conduct  heat  more 
rapidly  in  certain  directions  than  they  do  in  others,  and, 
when  transparent,  refract  light  doubly  except  in  certain 
directions. 


Fig.  1. 


Mineral  bodies  are  fotmd  in  both  of  the  above  classes ; 
and  the  same  mineral  body  may  occur  in  both  the 
amorphous  and  the  crystalline  condition.  This  is  seen  in 
the  piece  of  gold  shown  in 
fig.  1,  where  the  upper  portion 
has  a  sharply  angular  and  a 
well-defixied  shape,  while  the 
lower  presents  curvilinear  and 
rugged  outlines,  similar  to  one 
another  in  no  part.  Under 
favouring  circumstances,  it  is 
possible  that  every  substance 
whose  composition  is  capable 
of  being  represented  by  a 
definite  chemical  formula — 
i.e.,  which  has  an  unvarying 
composition — may  be  capable 
of  as.suming  a  definite  crys- 
taUine  form. 

Six  and  Form  of  Crystals. — They  are  of  every  size  from  Size  of 
over  a  yard  in  diameter  to.  mere  specks  requiring  a  high  crysUta 
power  of  the  microscope  to  reveal  their  existence.  Beryls 
have  beeu  obtained  in  America  more  than  4  feet  in  length 
by  2i  in  thickness,  weighing  1\  tons.  Equally  large 
crystals  of  apatite  have  been  found  in  Canada.  Thers  is  a 
rook  crystal  at  Milan  3J  feet  long  by  b\  in  circumierence, 
weighing  870  lb.  The  highest  perfection  of  form,  and  hence 
of  other  properties,  is  only  found,  however,  in  crystals  of 
moderate  or  of  small  size. 

Variety  of  Form,  and  Constancy  of  Form, — The  same  Variety 
mineral  may  be  found  in  different  localities,  or  sometimes  of  fon» 
in  the  same  locality,  exhibiting  an  almost  endless  variety 
of  forms.     Calc-spar  occurs  at  a  Scottish  locaUty  in  acicu- 
lar  pyramidal  crystals  of  which  the  length  may 
be  ten  or  more  times  as  great  as  the  width  (fig, 
2) ;  in  tlat  plates  as  thin  as  paper,  in  which  the 
length  is  not  the  hundredth  part  of  the  width  ; 
also    in   prisms,   pyramids,    and   rhombohedra, 
which  at  first   sight   (as  in  figs.    3,    4)   seem 


Fig  3 


Fig.  4. 

destitute  of  any  relationship  to  each  other.    This 

substance  has  elsewhere  been  noted  in  several 

hundred  forms.     The  minerals  fluorite,  pjTite, 

and  baryto  have  each  been  observed  in  over  a 

hundred  diverse  forms.     Nevertheless,  however 

great  the  number,  all  the  forms,  in  the  case  of 

each  mineral,  may  bo  reduced  or  referred  to  a  sing 

by  the  simple  process  of  examining  its  internal  structure  topareo 

or  the  mode  of  arrangement  ef   its  moleculsa.  ^Thia  ui^omk 


Fig.  i. 

<  typsi  Roiitid 


M  I  N?EiR  A  L  O  G  Y 


347 


accomplished  in  two  •n-ays^(l)by  finding  the  ■weak  joints 
in  that  arrangement,  through  splitting  the  crystal,  and 
(2)  by  measuring  the  angxilar  inclination  of  the  outside 
surfaces  which  bound  the  form  and,  from  these  measure- 
'ments,  by  simple  mathematical  laws,  arriving  at  what  has 
been  termed  its  "  primitive  "  or  simplest  form. 
•oTina-tR  As  regards  the  mere  recognition  of  a  substance,  such 
bility  of  measurement  in  itself  suffices, — the  angular  inclination,  if 
*'"'''•  tho  same  surfaces  be  measured,  being  unvarying  in  each 
species.  It  can,  moreover,  be  shown  that  the  possible 
range  of  external  variety  of  form  is  governed  by  fixed 
mathematical  laws,  which  determine  precisely  what  crys- 
talline forms  are  or  may  be  produced  for  each  species. 
Comparatively  few  of  these  actually  occur  in  nature ;  but 
erystallographic  laws  can  point  out  the  range  of  those 
which  can  possibly  occur,  can  delineate  them  even  before 
they  are  found,  and  can  in  all  cases  show  the  relationship 
■which  subsists  between  them  and  the  simple  or  fundamental 
form  from  which  or  out  of  which  they  all  originate.  It 
must  be  observed  that  in  crystalline  bodies  the  internal 
structure — that  is,  the  arrangement  of  the  molecules — 
is  as  regular  in  an  outwardly  shapeless  mass  as  in  the 
modelled  crystal  which  presents  itself  as  a  perfect  whole, 
rroper-  Definitions  of  Crystals,  and  their  Members  or  Parts. — A 
tJM  anil  crystal  is  a  symmetrical  sobd,  either  opaque  or  transparent, 
Jmt«ls  contained  within  surfaces  which  theoretically  are  flat,  and 
of  a  perfect  polish,  but  which  are  actually  frequently 
curved,  striated,  or  pitted.  These  surfaces  are  called 
"planes,"  or  "faces."  The  external  planes  of  a  crystal  are 
called  its  "  natural  planes  " ;  the  flat  surfaces  obtained  by 
splitting  a  crystal  are  called  its  "  cleavage  planes."  The 
intersections  of  the  bounding  planes  are  called  "edges," 
and  planes  are  said  to  be  similar  ■when  their  corresponding 
edges  are  proportional  and  their  corresponding  angles 
equal  Crystals  bounded  by  equal  and  similar  faces  are 
termed  "  simple  forms."  The  cube,  bounded  by  six  equal 
squares,  the  octahedron,  bounded  by  eight  equilateral 
triangles,  and  the  rhombohedron,  bounded  by  six  equal 
rhombs,  are  thus  simple  forms.  Crystals  of  which  the 
faces  are  not  all  equal  and  similar  are  termed  compound 
forms,  or  "  combinations,"  being  regarded  as  produced 
by  the  union  or  combination  of  two  or  more  simple  forms. 
Edges  are  terjned  rectangular,  obtuse,  or  acute,  according 
as  the  angle  at  which  the  faces  which  form  the  edge  meet 
is  equal  to,  or  greater  or  less  than,  a  right  angle.  Edges  are 
similar  when  the  planes  by  the  intersection  of  which  they 
ere  formed  are  respectively  equal  and  equally  incUned  to 
one  another ;  otherwise  they  are  unlike  or  dissimilar, 
interfer-  When  a  figure  is  bounded  by  only  one  set  of  planes,  it  is 
tnces.  gaid  to  be  "  developed."  When  an  edge  is  cut  oS  by  a 
new  plane,  it  is  said  to  be  "  replaced  " ;  when  cut  off  by  a 
plane  which  f  cirms  an  equal  angle  ■with  each  of  the  original 
faces  which  formed  the  edge,  it  is  said  to  be  "  truncated." 
When  an  edge  is  cut  off  by  two  new  faces  equally  inclined 
to  the  two  original  faces  respectively,  it  is  said  to  be 
"  bevelled."  When  a  solid  angle  is  cut  off  by  a  new  face 
which  forms  equal  angles  ■with  all  the  faces  which  went  to 
form  the  solid  angle,  it  is  said  to  be  truncated. 
Ilea,  In  classifying  crystals  and  studying  their  properties,  it 

"s  found  convenient  to  introduce  certain  imaginary  lines 
•Ailed  "axes."  Axes  are  imaginary  lines  connecting 
points  in  the  crystal  which  are  diametrically  opposite, — 
such  as  the  centres  of  opposite  faces,  the  apices  of  opposite 
solid  angles,  the  centres  of  opposite  edges.  Different  sets 
^  of  axes  may  thus  be  drawn  through  the  same  crystal;  but 
there  is  always  one  set,  usually  of  three,  but  in  one  special 
class  of  crystals  of  four,  axes,  by  referente  to  which  the 
geometrical  and  physical  properties  of  a  crystal  can  be 
most  simply  explained.  These  axes  intersect  one  another, 
either  at  rieht  angles,  producing  "  orthometric  "  formajw 


at  oblique  angles,  producing  "  clinometric "  forms,    .'fhe 
axes  may  be  all  equal,  or  only  two  equal,  or  all  unequal 

There  is  a  definite  conventional  position  in  which  for  "Pn,, 
purposes  of  description  a  crystal  is  always  supposed  to  be  tioning 
held.     With  reference  to  this  position  one  of  the  axes, —  of  cry* 
that  which  is  erect  or  most  erect, — is  termed  the  "verti-'*'* 
cal,"  and  the  others  the  "lateral"     The  planes  in  which 
any   two    of    the   axes   lie    are   called    the    "axial"    or 
"diametral   planes," — sometimes    "sections."     By    these 
the  space  around  the  centre  is   divided  into  "sectants." 
If  there  are,  as  is  generally  the  case,  only  two  lateral  axes, 
the  space  is  divided  into  eight  sectants,  or  octants ;  but,  if 
there   are   three   lateral  axes,    it  is   divided  into   twelval 
sectants. 

Primitive  Forms  of  Crystals. — If  we  attempt  to  arrive,  p,i_ja 
through  a  study  of  the  internal  structure  of  crystals,  as  tiye 
evidenced  by  directions  of  weakness  of  cohesion,  at  the  form* 
total  number  of  primitive  or  parent  forms  which  can  exist, 
we  find  that  there  are  thirteen  such  forms  and  no  more. 

Nine  of  these  may  be  regarded  as  prisms  standing  upon  a  base, 
three  as  octahedra  standing  upon  a  solid  angle  ;  and  there  is  one 
twelve-sided  figure,  or  dodecahedron. 

Prisms. — Of  the  prisms  eight  have  a  four-sidea  case.  Priinnfl. 

If  the  base  is  square  and  the  prism  stands  erect — that  is,  if  its 
sides  or  lateral  planes,  as  they  are  called,  are  perpendicular  to  the 
base — the  form  is  termed  a  "  right  square  prism "  (fig.  6).  In 
this  the  four  lateral  planes  are  rectangular  and  equal;  they  may  be 
either  oblong  or  square  ;  in  the  latter  case  the  form  is  the  "  cube  " 
(fig.  5).  "When  the  base  is  a^  rectangle  instead  of  a  square,  the 
form  is  a  "right   rectangular  prism'    (fig.  7).      In  each  of  the 


i     T"'' 

r'i 


jyj 


^        d, 

^ 

^ 

¥ 

,--•-     ■•- 

^ 

Fig.  5.  Fig.  6.  Fig.  7. 

above  three  forms  the  edges  are  twelve  in  number.  In  the  cubi 
all  the  edges  are  equal.  In  the  square  prism  the  lateral  edges 
are  all  equal,  but  are  different  from  the  four  equal  edges  of  the 
base.  In  the  rectangular  prism,  two  at  each  base  differ  in  lengtl^ 
from  the  other  two,  while  both  differ  from  the  lateral ;  hence 
there  are  here  three  sets  of  edges,  four  in  each.  In  each  of  thef 
three  forms,  however,  the  solid  angles  are  eight  in  number,  all 
equal,  and  each  enclosed  by  three  right  angles. 

"When  the  base  is  a  rhombus,  and  the  prism  stands  erect,  the  form 
isa  *'right  rhombic  prism"  (fig.  8).  Two  of  the  angles  in  the  base 
being  here  acute  and  two 
obtuse,  two  of  the  solid 
angles  corresponding  each 
with  each  must  differ  from 
the  others.  So  also  must 
two  of  the  lateral  angles 
be  acute  and  two  obtuse. 
The  four  lateral  faces  are 
equal. 

When  the  base  is  a 
rhomboid,  and  the  prism  stands  erect,  it  is  only  the  opposite 
lateral  faces  that  can  be  equal.  The  form  is  called  a  **  right 
rhomboidal  prism "  (fig.  9).  ■  -f"  J        \ 

When  the  base  is  a  rhombus;  but  the  prfsm  stands  obliquely  on 
its  base,  the  form  is  called  an  "oblique  rhombic  prism  "  (tig.  10).^ 
Here  the  basal  edges'  of  the  lateral  planes  are  all  equal  in  length,; 
but  on  account  of  the  inclination  of  the  prism  the  angles  which 
these  edges  form  with  the  lateral  edges  gf  the  lateral  planes  are 
two  acute  and  two  obtuse. 


*'Ti 


A  f. 

7 

-n 

7 

Fig.  8. 


Fig.  9. 


Fig.  10.'^  Fig.  11.  jFig.  12. 

If  all  the  edges  of  an  oblique  rhombic  pHsin~are  equal  in  length 

to  the  breadth  of  the  base,  and  if  the  lateral  planes  ar«  rhombi 

equal  iu  all  respects  to  the  basal,  the   form  is  ca'led  a"rhomboJ 

hedron  "  (fig.  11).     This.ia  included  within  six  eqaal  pUnes^lika 


1348 


MINE  R  A  L  0  G  T 


Orw 


the  cube,  bnt  these  pUuc3  have  obliqne  angles.  'I'ho  rhombo- 
hedron  thus  bears  the  same  relation  to  the  oblique  rhombic  prism 
which  the  cube  does  to  the  right  square  prism-  Of  the  eight  solid 
angles  of  a  rhombohedron  only  two  are  contained  by  three  equal 
plane  anglea,  and  these  two  ''apices,"  as  they  may  bo  called,  are 
opposite  one  another.  According  as  the  apices  are  acute  or  obtuse, 
we  have  an  acute  or  obtuse  rhombohedron. 

When  the  base  of  an  oblique  prism  is  a  rhomboid,  the  prism 
becomes  an  "  oblique  rhomboidal  prism  "  (fig.  12).  In  this  form, 
only  diagonally  opposite  edges  are  similar,  as  regards  equality 
of  length  and  the  value  of  the  included  angle.  Only  opposite  solid 
angles  are  equal,  as  are  also  the  opposite  and  parallel  faces. 

A  right  prism  may  have  an  equilateral  six -sided  base ;  it  is  then 
called  an  hexagonal  ]>rism."  This  form  may  be  developed  in  two 
positions  relatively  to  each  other, — one  in  which  the  transverse  axes 
pass  from  the  centres  of  opposite  faces 
they  pass  from  the  centres  ,■  of 


13),  the  other  in  which 


pposite  edges  of  the  planes 
(fig.  14).  The  faces  of  the  one 
Bet  mutually  truncAte  the  edges 
of  the  other.  If  a  rhombo- 
hedron be  positioned  so  as  to 
rest  upon  one  of  its  apices,  the 
faces  of  one  hexagonal  prism 

would      truncate     the    lateral  i?..     i  o  v      1 1 

edges    of    the    rhombohedron,  "S-  IS.  I^ig-  14. 

while  the  faces  of  the  other  hexagonal  prism  would  truncate  its 
lateral  solid  angles.  Hexagonal  prisms  may  be  longer  or  shorter 
than  the  width  of  their  bases.  'The  interfacial  lateral  angles  are 
120".  The  angle  between  the  lateral  and  terminal  faces  is  90*. 
Oetahedra,— The  planes  of  these  eight-faced  solids  are  triangular, 
|hed?a.  and  they  may  be  regarded  as  made  up  of  two  four-sided  pj^ramids 
applied  to  each  other,  base  to  base.  They  are  always  positioned  so 
that  they  stand  upon  a  solid  angle  with  the  "basal  plane" — that 
is,  the  plane  which  is  the  common  base  of  the  two  pyramids — hori- 
zontaL  In  the  primitive  forms  now  under  consideration  the  ver- 
tices of  the  two  pyramids  will  in  this  position  be  vertically  above 
and  below  the  centre  of  the  base.  The  upper  and  lower  solid  angles 
are  then  termed  the  "vertical  solid  angles,"  and  the  four  lateral 
BoHd  angles  are  called  the  basal  solid  angles. 

There  are  three  octahedrons.  In  the  "regular"  octahedron  (fig. 
IB)  the  base  is  a  square,  and  the  eight  faces  are.  equilateral  triangles 
of  equal  size.  There  are  twelve  edges,  which  are  all  equah  The 
faces  incline  to  each  other  at  an  angle  of  109°  28'  16",  and  have  the 
plane  angles  all  60°.  There  are  six  equal  solid  angles.  When  the 
base  of  the  octahedron  is  square,  but  the  other  edges,  although 


Fig.  18. 


Fig,  16.  Fig,  16.  Fig.  17. 

equal  to  one  another,  are  either  longer  or  shorter  than  the  edges 
of  the  base,  the  form  is  a  "  right  square  octahedron  "  (fig,  16). 
la  this  the  faces  are  isosceles  triangles,  the  equal  angles  being 
at  the  basal  edge  of  the  planes.  These  basal  edges  are  equal  ana 
similar,  but  differ  i*  length  and  in  angles  from 
the  eight  equal  pyramidal  edges.  When  the 
base  of  an  octahedron  is  a  rhombus,  it  is  called 
a  "right  rhombic  octahedron"  (fig.  17). 
Bodeca-  ■  Dodecahedron. — This  (fig,  18)  has  each  of  its 
hedioQ.  twelve  faces  a  rhombus.  It  is,  like  the  cube 
and  the  octahedron,  a  solid  which  is  symmetricaL 
The  interfacial  angles  are  all  120°,  the  plane 
angles  are  109°  28'  16"  and  70°  81' 44".  The  edges 
aze.twenty-four,  and  similar.  There  are  fourteen 
Bolid  angles,  of  which  six  are  formed  each  by  the  meeting  of  four 
acute  piano  angles,  and  eight  by  the  meeting  of  threo  obtuse  ]>lane 
angles. 

Deter-  It  has  been  said  that  the  above  simple  forms  were  arrived 
mination  at  through  a  study  of  the  internal  structure  of  crystals, 
of  parent  gjjjggy  ^  disclosed  by  cleavage.  Inasmuch,  however,  as 
there  are  some  minerals  which  cleave  in  only  one  direction, 
and  many  which  cannot  be  fleaved  in  any  direction,  this 
method  of  investigation  fails.  Its  employment,  moreover, 
frequently  led  to  conflicting  or  embarrassing  results.  A 
.conflicting  result  is  when  a  substance  has  more  than  one 
'  S6t  of  cleavages, — that  is,  splits  up  in  directions  which 
'.wotild  result  in  the  production  of  more  thaa  one  of  the 


above  primary  or  simple  forms.  Thus  the  mineral  fluoritd 
occurs  with  much  the  greatest  frequency  in  the  form  of 
the  cube,  and  it  might  very  consistently  be  held  that  ita 
frequent  occurrence  in  this  form  was  a  clear  natural 
indication  that  the  cube  was  the  primary  or  simplest  form 
of  fluorite ;  but  it  splits  up  into  an  octahedron.  Galena 
crystaUizes  frequently  in  the  form  of  the  octahedron ;  yet 
to  cleavage  galena  yields  a  cubic  primary  form.  It  might 
be  conceived  that  there  had  been,  in  each  case,  some 
special  tendency  to  assume  the  cubic  form  and  the  octa- 
hedral form ;  but  one  and  the  same  piece  of  rock  may 
bear  on  its  surface  cubic  crystals  of  fluor  and  octa-hedral 
crystals  of  galena,  —  each  of  the  minerals  having  here 
assumed  the  primitive  cleavage  form  of  the  other  in  pre- 
ference to  its  own.  The  mineral  blende  crystallizes  not 
unfrequently  in  octahedra,  which  yield  the  dodecahedroa 
on  cleavage.  Fluor  crystallizes  in  dodecahedra,  yet  yields 
the  octahedron  to  cleavage.  Argyrite  crystallizes  in  cubes 
and  in  octahedra,  but  yields  the  dodecahedron  on  cleavage. 
Pyrite  crystallizes  in  cubes,  octahedra,  and  dodecahedra, 
and  yields  both  the  cube  and  the  octahedron  on  cleavage. 

These  are  most  embarrassing  results,  but  they  clearly 
indicate  so  intimate  a  relationship  to  subsist  between  throe 
of  the  above  simple  forms  that  it  is  obvious  that  one  alone 
would  serve  as  a  type  form  for  representing  the  others. 
The  selection  of  that  one  should  be  based  upon  grounds  of 
most  eminent  simplicity,  and  this  again  is  to  be  arrived 
at  by  a  consideration  of  the  smallness  of  number  of  parts, 
i.e.,  of  faces,  edges,  and  solid  angles.  In  such  a  considera- 
tion we  find  that  the  dodecahedron,  with  its  higher  number 
of  each  of  these,  at  once  gives  place.  The  cube  has  six 
faces,  the  octahedron  eight ;  simplicity  here  is  in  favour  of 
the  cube.  The  cube  has  twelve  edges,  the  octahedron  has 
twelve ;  in  this  respect  they  are  equaL  The  cube  has 
eight  solid  angles,  the  octahedron  six ;  here  the  greater 
simplicity  is  on  the  side  of  the  octahedron.  So  that  this 
method  of  adjudicating  by  simplicity  fails,  and  we  are 
thrown  back  upon  the  relationships  which  may  be  unfolded 
through  a  consideration  of  the  other  elements  of  crystals, — 
{heir  axes. 

Systems  of  Crysiala  and  Laws  of  Crystallization. 

This  consideration  led,  first,  to  the  remarkable  discovery  ReUtiot 
that  several  of  the  above  primary  forms  are  mere  modifica-  of  faces 
tions  of  each  other,  and  ultimately  showed  that  all  crystals  '"  "°'- 
found  in  nature  may  be  referred  to  six  systems,  based  on 
certain  relations  of  their  axes,  and  that  every  face  which 
could  occur  upon  a  crystal  bears   a  definite  and  simple 
relation,  in  position  and  in  angular  incUnation,  to  these 
axes. 

As  regards  mere  geometric  measurement,  there  are  several  direc-  Axes  di- 
tions  in  which  axes  may  with  nearly  equal  advantage  be  projected,  rectioni 
For  example,  in  the  cube 
(fig.  19)  tliey  may  bo  drawn 
from  the  centres  of  opposite 
faces,  as  lettered  O;  or 
from  opposite  solid  Angles, 
as  lettered  C ;  or  from  the 
centres  of  opposite  edges, 
as  lettered  D.  There  is 
abundance  of  evidence  that 
each  of  those  directions 
must  be  regarded  as  lines 
of  dominant  accretion  of 
molecules. 

But  the  accretion  may  be 
not  only,  dominant  but 
ovon\'helniingly  so  in  one 
only  of  these  directions  in 

certain  ciscs,  or  existent  p,o  J9_pp5iii„oof  three  sets  of  axes, 
along  one  set  of  axes  alone  ; 

in  certain  others.  In  a  specimen  of  native  silver  from  Alva  in 
Scotland  (fig.  20),  along  0  this  is  so  much  the  case  that  the  con- 
creting molecules  have  done  little  more  than  delineate  the  form' 
of  an  octahedron,  and  this  they  have  only  boeu  able  to  do  by 


MINERALOGY 


a4y 


segregating  tlemselves  in  lines  of  minnte  crystals  of  the  very 
Btape  of  which  they  were  projecting  the  skeleton  form.  More- 
oTor,  a  polar  aggregation  at  the  terminal  ends  of  these  octahedral 
dies  is  nere  Jiown  by  the  amount  of  concreting  and  crystallizing 


Fig.  20. 
material  being  larger  at  the  terminations  of  these  axes  than  else- 
where.    In  the  hollow-faced  cube  again  (fig.  21),  an  aggregation 
of  molecnles  in  the  direction  of  the  lines  D  and  C  has  tilled  the 
edges  and  solid  angles  while  none  have  been  deposited  along  0. 


Pig.  21.  Pig.  2J. 

This  ocean  in  crystals  tt  nit.  In  t]l6  Iiollow-faced  octahedron, 
l^^ain  (fig.  22),  there  has  been  no  deposition  of  matter  along  the 
line  C.  Cuprite  often  shows  this  form;  and  it  as  fi^«ently  occurs 
in  hoUow-fai-ed  dodecahedra,  wherein  tbe  Tacuity  is  in  the  direc- 
tion of  D. 

>  In  the  specimen  of  pyrite  from  Elba  (fig.  23),  a  deposition  along 
B  and  C  would  ultimately  have  erected  the  scaffolding  of  a  hollow 
cube,  in  twelve  lines  of  minute 
mmbinations  of  the  cube  and 
Dctahedron.  Such  directional 
arrangements  may,  moreover, 
not  only  be  iutermittent  but 
often  alternate.  The  pyrite 
from  Traversella  (fig.  24)  is  an 
illustration  of  the  first.  A  large 
pentagonal  dodecahedron  hav- 
ing been  completed,  a  new  ac- 
cession of  material  has  been 
attached,  iiot  uniformly  spread 
over  the  pre-existent  crystal, 
to  .enlarge  it,  but  locally  ar- 
ranged, in  equal  amount,  at 
the  poles  of  6.     But  here  the  "°-  ^• 

special  method  of  the  arrangement  has  determined  the  formatien 
of  a  number  of  small  crystals  of  the  same  form  as  that  originally 
projected- 

An  altematioif,  as  it  were,  in  plan  is  shown  in  such  a  crystal  of 
caldte  as  that  in  fig.  25.  Here  a  scalenohedron  is  seen  in  the 
centre  of  the  figure  ;  then  a  rhombohedron  has  been  perched  »pon 
its  summit,  tod  iMtly  both  have  been  sheathed  in  a  six-sided  pnsm 
witJa^hedtaLsununlti.  .Different  as  tbw*  'bit*  '•ims  ao^jt  is 


found  that  they  all  here  stand  in  a  definite  position  one  to  the 
other;  that  definite  position  is  the  relation  which  they  bear  to  one 
of  tbe  sets  of  axes,  and  this  set  may  be  assigned,  not  only  to  all 
the  three  crystals  here  combined,  but  also  to  all  the  crjstals  be- 
longing to  the  same  mineral,  wherever  occurring.  This  general 
applicability  constitutes  one  of  the  respects  in  which  one  special 
set  of  axes  is,  in  each  of  the  systems,  preferred  to  the  othere. 


I    ' — ; 

%] 

1     /    ; 

u 

Kg.  24.  Fig.  25. 

Another  respect  is  the  intensity  with  which  the  molecules  cohere  Coher- 
in  the  different  parts  of  the  crystal,  as  refeiTed  to  these  axes,  and  ence  of 
the  resultant  different  hardness  of  certain  parts  of  crystals.     It  particles 
will   be  afterwards  found   that  this  obtains  in  a  very  limited  notequal 
manner  in  the  crystals  which  belong  to  the  first  of  the  follow-  j„  all  di- 
ing  systems,  on  account  of  its  regularity  and  sameness  as  a  whole,  recfions. 
It  may  be  laid  down  as  a  general  rule  that  the  edges  of  crystals  are 
harder  than  the  centres  of  their  faces,  and  the  solid  angles  harder 
than  the  edges.     This  is  markedly  the  case  in  the  diamond.     But, 
apart  from  this,  there  is  no  distinctive  hardness  in  any  one  part,  side, 
or  end  of  the  crystals  of  the  first  system.     It  is  otherwise  with  the 
crystals  which  fall  to  be   considered   in   all  the   other  systems. 
So  different  is  the  hardness  of  the  various  portions  of  these,  so 
diverse  the  appearance  of  their  parts  in  lustre,  colour,  polish,  ic. 
so  varying  the  amount  of  the  recoil  of  these  when  struck,  so  unequal 
their  power  of  conducting  heat,  so  dissimilar  their  power  of  re- 
sisting the  agencies  of  decay,  and  so  irreconcilable  their  action  upon 
transmitted  light,  that  we  cannot  but  conclude  that  the  molecules 
which  build  them  up  are  packed  with  greater  force,  if  not  in  greater 
number,  in  certain  directions  in  preference  to  others.     There  thus 
remains  no  question  that  these  nature-indicated  sets  of  axes  are 
those  along  which  there  has  been  a  speciallv  selective  or  "  polar" 
arrangement. 

The  six  systema  are  foonded  Upon  the  relationships  of  Systems  of 
the  axes  in  nomber,  in  length,  and  in  angular  inclination,  crystaji. 
All  crystals  may  be  divided  into  "  orthometric "  or  erect 
forms  and  "  clinometric  "  or  inclined  forms ;  and  in  similar 
manner  may  the  systems  be,  through  a  consideration  of 
the  relative  lengths  of  their  axes,  divided  into  three  classes. 
In  the  first,  or  most  regular,  of  these  the  axes  are  all  equal, 
that  is,  they  are  of  one  length  ;  in  the  second  there  is  one 
axis  which  differs  in  length  from  the  others,  and  therefore 
they  are  of  two  lengths;  while  in  the  third  the  axes  are 
all  oneqaal,  aad  therefore  they  are  of  three  lengths.  Of 
the  six  systems  one  belongs  to  the  first  class,  two  to  the 
second,  and  three  to  the  third.  Hence  they  are  thus 
classed : — 


ilonomeiric 
Cubic. 


Dimetric. 
Tetragonal. 
HexagonaL 


Triinetric. 
Rieht  Prisjnatic. , 
Oblique  Prismatic 
Anorthic. 


Though  the  grouping  of  the  systems  into  three  classes 
in  virtue  of  axial  diimensions  is  markedly  bome  out  by 
optical  and  other  properties,  yet  it  is  altogether  insufiScient 
for  determining  the  relationships  of  the  myriad  forms  in 
which  bodies  crystallize.  Such  knowledge  is  only  attained 
by  combining  the  consideration  of  axial  length,  with  axial 
inclination  ;  and  it  is  through  a  due  regard  of  both  oi  these' 
that  the  six  systems  are  instituted. 

The  above  table  may  be  read  in  two  different"wayB,— 

either  across  or  consecutively  up  and   down  the   pagft 

J  The  six  av«tema  ma."^ be  tieated. of  in  either  of  these  wain- 


350 


MINERALOGY 


and  there  are  certain  advantages  in  considering  them  at 
least  first  by  the  former  method. 

We  consider  first,  as  the  more  essential,  the  relative 
lengths  of  the  axes,  and.  secondly,  the  angular  inclination 
of  these. 

1.  In  the  cubic  system  the  axes  are  all  equal,  and  all 
intersect  at  right  angles.  Here  is  the  most  perfect  sim- 
plicity, and  the  most  perfect  regularity. 

2.  In  the  tetragonal  system  two  only  of  the  axes  are 
equal ;  but  all  still  intersect  at  right  angles.  Here  ia  a 
departure  from  simplicity  as  regards  the  length  of  one  axis, 
but  DO  departure  as  regards  the  angular  inclination. 

3.  In  the  right  prismatic  system  none  of  the  axes  are 
equal,  but  all  still  intersect  at  right  angles.  Here  is  total 
loss  of  regularity  in  the  first  particular,  but  still  none  in 
the  second. 

4.  In  the  oblique  prismatic  system  none  of  the  axes  are 
equal,  and  only  two  intersect  at  right  angles.  Here  there 
is  again  a  total  loss  of  simpUcity  in  the  first  particular,  and 
a  certain  amount  of  departure  from  it  in  the  second. 

5.  In  the  anorthic  system  none  of  the  axes  are  equal, 
and  none  of  them  intersect  at  right  angles, — so  that  here, 

as  expressed  by  the  name,  there  is 
a  total  departure  from  regularity  in 
both  particulars. 

6.  The  hexagonal  system  is 
anomalous  in  relation  to  this  mode 
of  consideration.  It  is  regarded  as 
having  four  axes,  three  of  which  lie 
in  one  plane,  parallel  to  the  base,  and 
intersect  each  other  at  equal  angles 


Vnique 


Fig.  27. 
(necessarily  angles  of  60°). 
The  fourth  axis  intersects 
these  at  right  angles,  and  may 
be  longer,  shorter,  or  equal 
to  them.  This  system  is 
generally  considered  after  the 
tetragonal  system,  as  having 
one  axis  which  differs  in 
'length  from  the  others,  and 
only  one  which  cuts  the 
others  at  right  angles.  By 
some  a  rhombohedron  is  con- 
sidered as  the  primary  of  this 
system ;  it  then  comes  to 
have  three  axes,  all  equal, 
but  none  intersecting  at  right 
angles. 

In  considering  these  sys- 
tems, or  in  describing  the 
form  of  a  crystal,  the  vertical 
or  erect  axis  ia  named  the 
principal  axis  of  the  figure, 
and  that  axis  is  chosen  as 
the  vertical  which  is  the  only 
one  of  its  kind.  In  the  cubic 
system  there  ia  no  such  axis, 
so  that  any  one  may  be  chosen  as  the  vertical. 

It  will  be  convenient,  before  proceeding  to  the  considera- 
Stion  of  the  laws  of  crystallograpliy  and  the  combinations 


Fig.  30. 


of  form.s, — especially  in  view  of  the  terminology  that  must 
be  employed  in  illustrating  those  general  aspects  of  the 
subject, — to  give  an  outline  of  one  of  the  six  systems  here. 
For  this  preliminary  description  the  cubic  system,  as  the 
simplest  and  most  regular,  naturally  suggests  itself  as  the 
most  suitable. 

I.  The  Cubic  Sysian. — Here  the  axes  are  all  equal,  and  Cubic 
all  intersect  at  right  angles.  The  "cube"  (fig.  26),  "octa- syt^'"' 
hedron"  (fig.  30),  and  "rhombic  dodecahedron"  (fig. 
33),  which  are  here  included,  are  ahke  in  their  perfect 
symmetry;  the  height,  length,  and  breadth  are  equal; 
and  their  axes  are  equal,  and  are  rectangular  in  their 
intersections. 

In  the  cube  (fig.  5)  these  axes  connect  the  centres  of 
opposite  faces;  in  the  octahedron  (fig.  15)  the  apices  of 
opposite  soUd  angles;  in  the  dodecahedron  (fig.  18)  the 
apices  of  opposite  acute  solid  angles.  The  relation  of  these  ReUtiou 
forms  to  each  other,  and  the  correspondence  in  their  axes,  °'  simple 
wiU  be  made  manifest  through  a  consideration  of  the  transi-  "''""^ 
tion  between  the  forms.  If  a  cube  be  projected  with  the 
axes  in  the  above  position,  or  if  a  model  of  it  in  any 
sectile  material  be  employed,  and  if  the  eight  angles  are 
sliced  off  evenly,  keeping  the  planes  thus  formed  equally 
inclined  to  the  original  faces,  we  first  obtain  the  form  in 
fig.  27,  then  that  in  fig.  28  and  fig.  29,  and  finally  a 
regular  octahedron  (fig.  30) ;  and  the  last  disappearing 
point  of  each  face  of  the  cube  is  the  apex  of  each  solid 
angle  of  the  octahedron.  Hence  the  axes  of  the  former, 
being  in  no  way  displaced,  necessarily  connect  the  apices 
of  the  solid  angles  of  the 
latter.  By  cutting  o£E  as 
evenly  the  twelve  edges  of 
another  cube,  the  knife  being 
equally  inclined  to  the  faces, 
we  have  the  form  in  fig.  31, 
then  fig.  32,  and  finally  the 
rhombic  dodecahedron  (fig. 
33),  with  the  exes  of  the  cube 
connecting  the  acute  angles  of 
the  new  form.  These  forms 
are  thus  mutually  derivable. 
Moreover,  they  are  often  pre- 
sented by  the  same  mineral 
species,  as  is  exemplified  in 
galena,  pyrites,  and  the  dia- 
mond. 

The  process  may  be  re- 
versed, and  the  cube  made 
from  the  octahedron,  as  will 
be  readily  understood  from  a 
comparison,  in  reverse  order, 
of  figs.  26  to  30.  Or  the  cube 
may  be  similarly  derived  from 
the  dodecahedron,  as  seen  by 
inspecting  figs.  33,  32,  31,  26. 

The  octahedron  also  is 
changed  to  a  rhombic  dodeca- 
hedron by  removing  its  twelve 
edges  (figs.  3-4,  35),  and  con- 
tinuing the  removal  till  the 
original  faces  are  obliterated, 
thus  producing  the  dodeca- 
hedron. 

It  will  bo  observed  that  throughout  aU  these  change* 
the  position  of  the  axes,  as  determinant*  of  dimensions, 
need  not  be  altered, — that,  in  fact,  one  set  of  axes  has 
served  for  all  the  forms. 

The  relationships  of  the  principal  fonns  of  this  system 
being  thus  disclosed,  the  forms  themselves  have  next  to  be 
considered. 


^^ 


Fig.  31. 


MINERALOGY 


Parts  or      .  The  cube  (fig.  26)  is  bounded  by  six  equal  squares,  has 

tbaoube.  twelve  edges  formed  by  faces  meeting  at  90°,  and  eight 

solid  trigonal  angles.     The  axes  are  taken  as  joining  the 

centres  of  each  two  opposite  faces.  .  Examples  are  hallite, 

galena,  and  fluor. 


Fig.  34. 


Fig.  35. 


.Dodeca- 
hedron. 


TetrakiS' 

bexa- 

hedrftQ. 


MX/ 

0 

^Sq^ 

\ 

jj2\, 

0 

Fig.  36. 


Tritkis- 
crtv 

hedroD. 


The  octahedron  (fig.  30),  bounded  by  eight  equilateral 
triangles,  has  twelve  equal  edges  with  planes  meeting  at 
109°  28'  16",  and  six  tetragonal  angles.  The  principal 
axes  join  the  opposite  solid  angles.  Examples :  magnetite, 
gold,  cuprite. 

The  rhombic  dodecahedron,  (fig.  33)  is  bounded  by  twelve 
equal  and  similar  rhombi,  has  twenty-four  equal  edges  of 
120°,  and  has  six  tetragonal  and  eight  trigonal  angles. 
Each  of  the  principal  axes  joins  two  opposite  tetragonal 
angles.     Examples:  garnet,  cuprite,  blende. 

The  tetrakishexahedrons  (figs.  36,  37,  38,  varieties  of 
icositetrahedron)  are  bounded  by  twenty-four  isosceles 
triangles,  placed  so  as  to  form  four-sided  pyramids  on  the 
faces  of  the  cube,  arranged  in 
six  groups  of  four  each.  They 
have  twelve  longer  edges,  which 
correspond  to  those  of  the  pri- 
mitive or  inscribed  cube,  and 
twenty-fo'ir  shorter  edges  placed 
over  each  of  its  faces.  The 
angles  are  eight  hexagonal  and 
six  tetragonal,  the  latter  joined 
two  and  two  by  the  principal 
axes.  Examples:  fiuorite, gold. 
This  form  varies  much  in  general 
aspect.  The  four-sided  pyra- 
mid which  rests  on  the  edges 
of  each  face  of  the  cube  may  be 
so  low  as  almost  to  fall  into  it 
(fig.  36) ;  or  it  may  rise  so  high 
that  each  side  forms  a  level 
surface  with  that  which  is  ad- 
jacent to  it  upon  the  nearest 
cubic  face  (fig.  38).  In  the 
latter  case  the  form  has  become 
the  rhombic  dodecahedron ;  so 
that  the  more  or  less  acute 
varieties  of  the  form  are  but 
stages  of  a  passage  of  the  cube 
into  the  latter  figure,  through 
an  increasing  accretion  of  matter 
in  the  lines  of  the  axes  of  the 
cube.  This  is  termed  a  "  tran- 
sition by  increment." 

The  triakisoctahedrons,  fig.  39 
(variety  of  icositetrahedron, 
fig.  40),  are  bounded  by  twenty- 
four  isosceles  triangles,  in  eight 
groups  of  three,  ananged  as  pyramids  on  the  edges  of 
the  faces  of  the  octahedron.  Like  the  previons  form 
thsy  vary  in  geneiml  tspect,  the  variation  here  being  from 


Fig.  38. 


351 

the  octahedron  on  one  side  to  the  rhombic  dodecahedron 
on  the  other  ;  while  the  increased  accretion  here  is  in  the 
direction  of  lines  joining  the  centres  of  the  faces  of  tha 
octahedron  or  the  solid  angles  of  the  cube.  The  passage 
of  the  forms  is  similar  to  that  illustrated  in  the  last-coa- 


Fig.  39. 


Fig.  40. 


•sidered  form.  The  edges  are  twelve  longer,  corresponding 
with  those  of  the  inscribed  octahedron,  and  twenty-four 
shorter,  three  and  three  over  each  of  the  faces.  The  angles 
are  eight  trigonal  and  six  ditetragonal  (formed  by  eight 
faces),  the  latter  angles  joined  two  and  two  by  the  principal 
axes.     Examples :  galena,  diamond. 

The  icositetrahedrons  (fig.  40)  are  bounded  by  twenty-  ic  id- 
four  deltoids.     This  form  varies  from  the  octahedron  to  tetn- 
the  cube,  sometimes  approaching  the  former  and  sometimes  h^l""- 
the  latter  in  general>aspect.     A  four-sided  pyramid  rests 
on  the  angles  of  the  faces  of  the  cube.     When  increased 
accretion  takes  place  along  the  cubic  axes,  an  octahedron. 
results.     When  it  is  along  lines  joining  the  solid  angles- 
of  the  cube,  that  form  itself  results.     The  edges  are  twenty- 
four  longer  and  twenty-four  shorter.     The  solid  angles  are 
six  tetragonal  joined  by  the  principal  axes,  eight  trigonal, 
and   twelve   rhombic  or  tetragonal  with  unequal  angles. 
Examples :  analcime,  garnet. 

The  hexakisoctahedrons  (fig.  41),  bounded  by  forty-eight  Heztl^ 
scalene  triangles,  vary  much  in  general  aspect,  approaching  oet»-  ^ 
more  or  less  to  all  the  preceding  forms,  into  all  of  which  "»o™* 
they  may  pass ;  but  most  frequently  they  have  the  faces 
arranged  either  in  six  groups 
of   eight  on  the  faces  of  the 
cube,-  or  eight  of  six  on  the 
faces   of    the    octahedron,    or 
twelve  of  four  on  the  faces  of 
the  dodecahedron.     There  are 
twenty-four  long  edges,  often 
corresponding  to  those  of  the 
rhombic   dodecahedron   or  bi- 
secting  the    long  diagonal  of 
the  trapezohedron,  twenty-four 
intermediate    edges    lying    in 
pairs   over   each  edge  of   the 
inscribed  octahedron,  and  twenty-four  short  edges  in  pairs 
over  the  edges  of  the  inscribed  cube.     There  are  six  dite- 
tragonal angles  joined  by  the  principal  axes,  eight  hexa- 
gonal, and  twelve  rhombic  angles.     Examoles :  diamond, 
fluorite. 

General  Laws  of  Crystallography. — The  ^even  forma  of  Laws  oi 
crystals  noiv  described  are  related  to  each  other  in  the^^^J"*" 
most  intimate  manner.  This  wiH  appear  more  distinctly 
from  the  account  which  is  to  follow  of  the  mode  of  derivar- 
tion  of  the  forms,  with  which  is  conjoined  an  explana- 
tion of  the  crystallographic  signs  or  symbols  by  which 
they  are  designated.  These  symbols  were  introduced  by 
Naumann,  in  the  belief  that  they  not  only  mark  the  forms 
in  a  greatly  abbreviated  manner,  but  also  exhibit  th» 
relations  of  the  forms  and  combinations  in  a  way  which 
words  could  hardly  accomplish.     In  order  to  follow  out  this 


r.g.  4L 


T\IINERALOGY 


Srinine- 
Uy. 


Parallel 
iam  of 
faces. 


Ratioii- 
ility  of 

tlie  iinv.1 
metei"3. 


60'^ 

derivation  of  forms,  it  is  necessary  to  state  briefly  the 
follo\.  iig  laws,  whicli  have  been  established  in  crystallo- 
graphy. It  is  to  be  remembered  that  these  laws  apply, 
not  merely  to  the  cubic  system  just  described,  but  to  all 
the  systems. 

1.  Tlie  Law  of  tlie  InrariahilUy  of  tlie  Angles  of  Crystah, 
'  which  was  established  by    Romi    de  I'lsle,  may  be  thus 

stated  : — the  angles  of  inclination  of  the  faces  of  a  crystal 
.Tre  constant,  however  unequally  the  faces  may  be  developed. 
The  corresponding  angles  of  different  crystalline  specimens 
of  the  same  body  do  not,  however,  always  absolutely  agree. 
Differences  have  been  found,  amounting  sometimes  even 
to  10'. 

2.  The  Law  of  Symmetry,  discovered  oy  Haiiy,  may 
bo  thus  expressed: — (1)  similar  parts  of  crystals — faces, 
edges,  angles,  and  consequently  axes — are  all  modified  in 
the  same  manner,  and  dissimilar  parts  are  modified 
sejiarately  or  differently;  (2)  the  modifications  produce  the 
same  effect  on  the  faces  or  edges  which  form  the  modified 
jwrt,  when  they  are  equal ;  when  they  are  not  equal,  they 
produce  a  different  effect.  That  is,  if  an  edge  be  truncated 
or  bevelled,  eveiy  simUar  edge  will  be  similarly  truncated 
or  bevelled  ;  if  an  angle  be  truncated  or  acuminated,  every 
similar  angle  will  be  similarly  truncated  or  acuminated ; 
and  consequently  every  similar  axis  will  be  equally  affected 
by  the  modifications.  Thus  the  cube  has  eight  similar 
angles  and  twelve  similar  edges.  In  the  physical  produc- 
tion of  the  cube,  if  one  of  the  angles  or  edges  be  modified, 
all  will  be  sunilarly  modified.  This,  which  is  the  most 
imjjortant  law  of  crj'stallography,  is,  however,  subject  to 
an  exception  which  was  fully  foi;m\dated  by  Weiss.  The 
Jaw  was — all  the  similar  parts  of  crysfals,  faces,  edges, 
angles,  and  consequently  axes,  are  modified  at  the  same 
time  and  in  the  same  manner;  the  forms  resulting  from 
this  law  ai-s  termed  "  holohedral."  The  exception  is  that 
half  of  them  or  one-fourth  of  them  only  may  be  similarly 
modified.  ^\'Tieu  only  half  of  the  similar  parts  are  modi- 
lied,  we  get  the  "liemihedral"  forms;  when  one-fourth 
only  are  modified,  which  occurs  only  rarely,  we  get 
■'  tefartohedral "  forms. 

3.  The  Law  of  the  ParaUelism  of  the  Facts  of  a  Ciystal, 
discovered  by  Romd  de  I'lsle,  may  be  expressed  as 
follows  : — every  face  of  a  crystal  has  a  similar  face  parallel 
to  it  :  OP  every,  figiu-e  is  bounded  by  pairs  of  parallel  faces 
(with  the  exception  of  certain  hemihedral  forms). 

4.  I'lie  Law  of  Zones,  first  established  by  Weiss,  may  be 
thus  enunciated  : — the  lines  in  which  several  faces  of  a 
crystal  intersect  each  other  (or  would  do  so  if  they  were 
produced  until  they  met)  frequently  form  a  system  of 
]iarallcls.  Such  a  series  of  faces  is  termed  a  "zone." 
.sometimes  the  zones  are  parallel  to  one  of  the  syi.  metrical 
axes.  Thus,  in  every  prism,  the  faces  of  the  prism  coii- 
.stitute  a  zone  which  encircles  the  axis  of  the  prism.  Faces 
may  be  in  a  zone  although  they  do  not  actually  intersect 
on  the  form. 

.").  The  Laic  of  the  Pittionality  of  the  Parameters  of  the 
faces  of  crystalline  series,  first  indicated  by  Malus,  is  that 
the  position  of  planes  may  bo  assigned  by  numbers  bearing 
some  simple  ratio  to  the  relative  lengths  of  the  axes  of  the 
crystal.  This  law  was  the  outcome  of  investigations  into 
the  relationship  of  forms  glanced  at  in  commencing  the 
consideration  of  the  cubic  system,  and  was  arrived  at 
thrqiigh  the  study  of  the  mode  of  derivation  of  forms. 

Tlic  dcriviitiou  of  forms  is  tlint  process  I'y  wliicli,  from  ono  form 
clioscn  for  tlio  piunosi',  .anvl  consijtrcd  os  tlio  type,— tlio  fuoda. 
,nii'ntiil  or  primaiy  lorni,— all  the  other  forms  of  a  system  may  be 
'|irojnceJ,  acconliiig  to  fixed  principles  or  general  laws.  In  order 
'o  umlcratind  this  process  or  method  of  derivation,  it  must  be  noted 
,hnt  the  position  of  any  plane  is  fixed  when  the  position  of  any 
liree  points  in  it,  not  all  ni  one  straight  line,  is  known.  To  deter- 
-110  the  position,  therefore,  of  the  lace  of  a  crystal,  it  is  only 


necessary  to  know  the  distance  of  tlir^e  points  in  it  from  the  centre^ 
of  the  crystal,  which  is  the  point  in  which  tlie  a.tes  intersect  each 
otluT.  As  the  planes  of  all  crystils  are  referred  to  their  axes,  the 
points  in  ^vllich  the  face  (or  its  supposed  extension)  meets  the  three 
axes  of  the  crystal  are  chosen,  ana  the  portions  of  the  axes  twtween 
these  points  and  the  centre  are  named  parameters  of  tho  face  ;  and  Pan- 
tile position  of  the  faco  is  sulHciently  known  when  tlie  relative  meten., 
lengtn  or  proportion  of  these  paiantetcrs  is  ascertained.  When  the 
jiosition  01  one. face  of  a  sinijtle  furni  is  thus  fixed  or  described,  all 
the  other  faces  of  tlie  form  are  in  like  manner  fixed  in  accordance 
with  law  2,  since  tliey  arc  all  equal  and  similar,  and  have  equal 
parameters — that  is,  intei-sect  the  axis  in  tlie  sauio  proportions. 
Hence  the  expression  which  marks  or  describes  one  faco  marks 
and  describes  the  whole  figure,  with  all  its  faces. 

The  oetiiliedron  is  adopted  as  the  primary  or  fundamental  form 
of  the  cubic  system,  and  distinguished  by  the  first  letter  of  the 
name,  0.  Its  faces  cut  the  halr-.ixes  at  cpial  distances  from  the 
centre  ;  so  that  these  semiaxcs,  the  p.uanictcr3  of  tlie  faces,  have  to 
each  other  tlio  proportion  1:1:1.  In  ordt-r  to  derive  the  other 
forms  from  tlie  octahedron,  the  following  coiistiuction  is  employed. 

Suppose  a  piano  to  be  laid  down  jierpentlicular  to  one  axis,  and  Propor 
consequently  [larallel  to  the  two  other  axes  (or  to  cut  thcra  at  an  in-  tion  of 
finite  distance,  expressel  by  oo ,    the  sign  of  infinity);   then  the  para- 
hexahedron  or  cube  is  produced,  designated  hy  the  crystallogiaphic  meters 
sign    ooOoo, — expressing  tlie  proportion  of  the  p.iranielcrs  ol  its  express* 
faces,  or  oo:  1  :oo.     If  a  plane  is  supposed  placed  on  each  edge,  by 
parallel  to  one  axis,  and  cutting  tlie  two  other  axes  at  equal  dis-  symbols. 
tances,  tho  resulliiig  figure  is  t^ic  rliombic  dodecahedron,  designated  Notatiou 
by  the  sign  o=0,  tho  proportion  of  the  jiaranioters  of  its  laces  being  of  Nau- 
a>:  1:  I.     The  tliakisoctaliedrou  arises  when,  on  e.icli  edge  of  the  maiin. 
"octahedron,  planes  are  placed  cutting  the  axis  not  belonging  to  that 
edge  at  a  distance  frjm  the  centre  vi,  which  is  a  rational  number 
greater  than   1.    Tne  proportion  of  its  paramctei*s   is  therefoiv 
)ii  ;1  :  1,  and  its  sign  mO  ;  tlie  most  common  varieties  are  50,  20, 
and  30,  seen  in  diamond  and  flnorite.     When,  oji  the  other  hand, 
from  a  similar  distance  vi  in  each  two  semiaxes  prolonged  a  plane 
is  drawn  to  the  other  seniiaxis,  or  to  each  angle,  an  icositetrahedrou 
is  formed  ;  the  parame.ers  of  its  faces  have  consequently  the  pro- 
portion m  :  111 :  1,  ami  its  sign  is  uiOi/i  ;  the  most  common  varieties 
are  202  and  303, — tho  former  Tciy  frcqn?nt  iu  leucite,  analcinic, 
and  garnet,  the  latter  in  gold  and  amalgam.     When,  again,  planes 
are  drawn  from  each  angle,  «■  the  end  of  Mie  seniiaxis  of  tlie  octa- 
hedron, parallel  to  a  second  axis,  and  cutting  tho  third  at  a  distance 
11,  greater  than  1,  then  the  tetraUislicxahedron  is  formed  ;  the  para- 
meter of  its  faces  is  oo  :  ii :  1  ;  its  sign  is  caOn ;  and  the  most  com- 
mon varieties  i»  nature  arc  ooO|,  od02,  and  oo03.      Finally,  if  in 
each  seiniaxis  of  tho  ocUhedron  two  distances  w  and  ii  bo  taken, 
each  greater  than  1,  and  m  also  greater  than  ii,  and  plniies  bo  dlawn 
from  each  angle  to  these  points,  so  that  the  two  idan.a  lying  over 
each  edge  cut  the  second  soiuiaxis  belonging  to  that  edge  at  tho 
smaller  distance  n,  and  tho  third  axis  al  tho  greater  distance  »i, 
tlien   tho   hexakisoctahedrou   is    piodueid;    tho    parameters    are 
HI :  11  :  1,  its  sign  viOn,  and  the  most  common  v.irielics  3&},  402, 
and  60J,  seen  iu  diamond  and  Ihioritc. 

It  mnst  bo  observed  that  thc'nunibers  in  the  above  signs  refer  to 
the  par.imetcr^  of  the  fac«,— not  to  tlio  axes  of  the  crystal,  which 
are  always  equal.  One  parameter  also  h.as  always  been,  in  theabov*, 
nssuiued  -1,  and  Uicn,  either  one  only  of  ihe  two  other  ]iara- 
nuters,  marked  by  tho  number  before  O,  or  boili  of  thc«i,  niarkoj 
by  the  nuinbera  before  and  after  O,  liavo  been  chan^'ed. 

In  the  above  eousideratiou  of  the  nioilo  of  dirivation  of  these 
forms  actually  found  in  uatuie,  which  belong  to  the  cubic  nystcni, 
it  will  be  observed  (though  tho  iHu«tiation3  w.re  liniittd)  that  the 
value  of  III  and  «  in  thesu  indicated,  by  the  preei^iuii  ol'  the  inojior- 
tioiis  i!,  2,  or  3,  a  definite  nnnurieal  rc-hitionsbip.  This  at  once  kj 
up  to  the  extended  observations  whieli  established  Iho  law  above 
stated  of  proportionality  in  tho  modification  of  crystals,  or  tlie 
ratimiality  of  the  parameters,  which  gives  n  matlienialieal  bajis  to 
the  science,  adding  to  symnieliy  of  airaugeu'int  a  niiiiuiical  rela- 
tion iu  tho  position  of  the  planes. 

To  illustrate  tliis  in  n  general  form  (ami  not  merely  with  special 
reference  to  the  mode  of  notation  or  expressi.ui  of  N.aiinianii,  which 
is  that  adopted  in  the  subscpient  descriptions),  let  AO.\',  IJOU', 
COC  (Iig.  4-.!)  be  the  three  axes  of  a  crystal,  dniwii  in  pcre|nvtive, 
and  cnlting  one  another  in  the  centre  0.  Tlies.miaxis  OA,  OH,  00 
are  three  p.-uaincter3.  Now  in  the  lino  O.V  take  O.'.-IOA,  niul 
On.-JOA,— making  as  many  j.oints  as  may  be  ll.■ce<i^ary  be- 
tween OA,  rathnnlfmdioiisoi  OA.  Sul.dii  ide  OH  and  OV  in  a 
similar  manner.  Fiu-ther  produce  0.\,  01'.,  Of  to  Ao,  D.>,  Cu,  in 
each  direction  to  an  infinite  distance,  or  to  a  sup|.us>-d  inliuito 
distance,  as  expressed  by  the  arrow-head  ;  and  suiqwe  tlirse  ex- 
tended axes  to  bo  divided  iu  a  manner  similar  to  the  suKlivisioils 
of  tho  parameters,  bv  rational  multiples  of  OA,  01!,  and  OC.  jlll 
the  plaws  of  a  crystal  will  be  parallel  to  om  vr  ollirr  of  tU plana 
whichycjss  through  thru  of  the  points  thus  dttrrmiiud. 

First,  in  order  to  apjirehend  the  relationship  of  faces  to  these  axes, 
or  to  tho  half  axes,— the  parameters  of  the  faces,— let  us  bupposo  ono 


MINERALOGY 


353 


a 

o» 

3^» 

0 

^^bvJtJ^ 

■^ 

0 

o3^ 

-'tl^  > 

e     > 

*' 

4-^ 

■" 

plane  of  a  crystal  to  bo  so  situated  as  to  cut  the  three  parameters 
■OA,  OB,  OC  at  their  extremities  A,  B,  C,  which  it  must  De  reraem- 
Jxired  are  points  equi- 
distant from  the  centre ; 
or  let  it  be  supposed 
that  a  glass  plate  rests 
u[ion  three  intersect- 
ing wires  at  such 
jioints.  It  is  evident 
that  such'  a  plane  or 
plate  will  have  a  de- 
Bnite  y  inclination  or  /  ^, 
shpe.!  '  Suppose  fur-  "-rj- 
ther  "a  second  plane 
or  plate  to  exist, 
which  cuts  the  three 
semiaxes  in  tke  points 
Oj,-  Jj,  Cj,  which  have 
boen  measured  off 
{along  with  a„  \,  Cj) 

as  equidistant  from  O.  -; 

It  will  bo  evident  that  •* 

such  a  plane,   though  pj      ^j. 

smaller,  will  be  parallel' 

to  tho  first,  seeing  that,  like  it,  it  cnts  the  three  parameters  at 
equal  distances  from  0. 

A  little  consideration  will  show  that,  whatever  the  absolute  dis- 
tances from  the  centre  may  be,  so  long  as  the  supporting  subdivi- 
sions are  equal,  no  uew  slope  of  the  glass  plates  or  planes  is 
possible  ;  planes  so  situated  must  be  parallel  and  similar.  Any  sign 
•which  may  be  adopted  to  express  the  slope  of  one  of  such  planes 
must  be  applicable  to  all.  A  plane,  however,  cutting  the  points 
Oj,  6i,  C3  will  have  quite  a  different  slope. 

Let  us  now  suppose  a  plane  to  cut  a  different  set  of  the  semiaxes, 
namely,  OA',  OB',  OC,  in  the  points  -Oj,  -61,  -c,.  Such  a  piano 
■would  be  parallel  to  one  cutting  the  points  -  Oj,  —  ftj,  -  Cj,  and  also  tp 
the  set  of  planes  first  described,  but  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  centre 
of  the  crystal.  If  again,  however,  we  had  a  plane  cutting  the  semi- 
axes  OA'  and  OB'  in  -  o^,  -  ftj,  but  the  semiaxis  OC  iu  the  point 
-C2,  it  is  clear  that  the  slope  of  this  plane  would  be  quite  different 
from  thai  of  the  planes  Just  described,  but  it  would  bo  parallel  to 
the  plane  cutting  the  points  Oj,  dj,  c^.  This  slope,  like  the  other, 
evidently  depends,  not  on  the  absolute  lengths  of  the  portions  of 
OA',  OB',  OC  cut  off,  bat  upon  their  proportions  or  ratios;  and 
such  is  the  case. with  all  the  planes  which  are  referred  to  the  same 
axes. 

■   As  there  are  three  axes,  and  each  or  all  of  them  may  be  cut  at  any 

points  and  at  any  ratios,  it  is  evident  that  the  number  of  planes 

which  is  possible  is  infinite  ;  and  it  must  be  also  evident  that  tho 

inclinations  of  all  are  fixed  or  determinate  if  we  know  the  ratios. 

AVhile,  however,  the  possible  number  of  planes  is  infinite,  the  actual 

number  occui-riug  among  minerals  is  either  small  or  moderate,  in 

virtue  of  the  fact  that  the  ratios  of  subdivision  of  the  axes  are  always 

simple,  and  not  numerous. 

Other  Naumann's  symbols  for  the  notation  or  individualizing  of  planes 

nodea  of  have  been  glanced  at.     A  simpler  method  is  that  of  employing  as 

notatiui.  indices  the  denominators  (if  simple  fractions)  of  the  fractional  parts 

of  the  axis  cut.     Thus  ill  is  used  for  any  plane  parallel  to  that 

cutting  the  axes  in  o,,  \,  Cj ;  122  for  those  parallel  to  Oj,  i^,  Cj  ;  313 

for  a«,  &i,  C3  ;  and  so  on. 

When  any  of  the  points  referred  to  have  negative  signs,  the  cor- 
resi>onding  indices  have  negative  signs  placed  over_them.  Thus 
122  is  the  index  for  a  plane  parallel  to  c^-^^  103  is  the  index 
of  the  plane  a',,  Joo ,  d..  00  nere  indicates  infinity ;  that  is,  the 
jdano  never  would  cut  the  axis  B  however  far  it  were  extended  ;  in 
other  words,  it  is  parallel  to  it.  The  necessity  for  elongating  the 
axes  is  broixght  about  by  the  occurrence  of  highly  acuminating 
pianos,  which  in  many  oases  would  not  meet  the  axes  at  all  unless 
these  were  prolonged. 

If  the  axes  are  unequal,  as  in  the  trimetric  forms,  then  the  ratio 
is  of  the  same  character,  except  that  the  relative  lengths  of  the  axes 
come  into  consideration ;  but  here,  as  in  the  regular  system,  irrational 
values  cannot  occur,  and  iu  even  the  roost  complex  crystals  they 
seldom  exceed  seven,  either  as  aliquot  parts  or  multiples. 

It  will  thus  be  seen  that  in  crystals  there  is  no  hapnazard  scatter- 
ing of  faces,  but  a  complete  subserviency  to  law,  a  law  which  may 
be  said  to  be  the  linear  equivalent  to  the  law  of  multiple  propor- 
tions by  weight,  and  Gay  Lustac's  law  of  multiple  proportions  in 
combination  by  volume. 

In  abbreviation  of  all  the  systematic  modes  of  notation,  letters  of 

the  Latin  and  Greek  alphabets  are  frequently  employed  in  a  more  or 

less  arbitrary  manner,  and  with  advantage  in  toe  case  of  highly 

complex  forms. 

2!'^''       6.   The   Law  of  Symmetry  of  CrysUMine   Combination 

combiun.  i^  ^^^  consequence  of  the  law  of  symmetry  and  the  law  of 

tiou.       the  rationality  of  the  parameters,  and  has  been  partially 


stated  in  enunciating  these  laws.  It  is  thus  expressed  ; — 
(1)  a  substance  can  only  crystalline  in  forms,  whethei- 
simple  or  compound,  which  have  the  same  relative 
syihmetry,  that  is,  belong  to  the  same '  crystalline  system, 
and  the  parameters  of  the  faces  of  which  bear  a  simple 
relation  to  each  other,  that  is,  belong  to  the  same  axis ;  (2) 
a  form  cannot  be  modified  by  "faces  belonging  to  a  different 
system,  or  a  different  series. 
.  Certain  exceptions  to  the  first  part  of  this  law  occur.  Appai-ert 
The  element  carbon  occurs  as  the  diamond,  which  is  cubic,  excep- 
and  as  graphite,  which  is  hexagonal.  Sulphur  occurs  near  '"""• 
volcanoes  in  needle  crystals  belonging  to  the  oblique 
prismatic  system,  and  also  in  caves  (deposited  apparently 
from  solution)  in  crystals  belonging  to  the  right  prismatic 
system.  -  Titanic  acid  is  tetragonal  in  rutile,  and  right 
prismatic  in  brookite.  Carbonate  of  lime  is  hexagonal  in 
calcite,  and  prismatic  in  aragonite.  These  are  probably 
only  apparent  exceptions.  The  elementary  substances 
which  go  to  form  them  occur  in  different  allotropic  states, 
with  different  amounts  of  specific  heat;  and  it  is  probable 
that  in  these  different  states  they  go  to  form  the  above 
modifications,  which  are  therefore,  iu  every  respect,  except 
in  their  chemical  composition,  different  mineral  bodies. 
The  physical  differences  between  diamond  and  graphite 
may  suffice  as  an  illustration.  The  diamond  is  trans- 
parent, colourless,  brittle,  and  extremely  hard ;  graphite 
is  opaque,  black,  tough,  and  so  soft  as  to  be  utilized  as 
a  lubricant. 

Spheres  of  Projection. — The  foregoing  scheme  for  the 
development  of  the  relation  which  subsists  bet>yeeu  faces 
of  crystals  and  their  axes  affords  but  slight  aid  in  display- 
ing the  position  of  the  faces,  or  their  mutual  relationships. 
The  deliiieation  even  of  a  considerable  series  of  crystal 
forms  does  not  indeed  go  far  in  effecting  this, — on  account, 
first,  of  very  unequal  development  in  the  size  of  the  faces 
of  crystals,  and,  secondly,  on  account  of  the  habit  of 
development  of  these  faces  not  only  differing  largely,  but 
being  special  to  certain  localities,- — as  in  the  entire  absenee 
of  some  faces,  and  in  the  preponderance  of  others. 

Maps  of  the  whole  domain  occupied  by  the  forms  of  each  Sphere* 
mineral  have  been  happily  projected  for  such  display.  ?^P"'" 
The  projection  is  laid  down  as  on  3  globe,  in  accordance  J'  °^ 
with  stereographic  projection,  and  admitting  of  calculation 
according  to  the  laws  of  spherical  trigonometry.  These 
globe  maps  are  called  "  spheres  of  projection."  "The  centre 
O  is  the  common  centre  of  the  crystal  and  of  the  sphere  in 
which  the  axes  intersect.  The  three  axes  will  of  course 
meet  the  circumference  of  the  sphere  in  six  points,  called 
the  "poles  of  the  axes."  From  the  centre  radii  are 
supposed  to  be  drawn,  meeting  each  plane  perpendicularly. 
It  is  evident  that  such  radii  will  have  fixed  inclinations  to 
each  other.  They  are  called  "  normals  "  to  the  planes,  and 
the  points  in  which  when  produced  they  meet  the  circum- 
ference of  the  sphere  of  projection  are  called  the  "  poles  " 
of  the  corresponding  faces.  A  face  and  its  pole  thus  call 
for  only  one  symbol  The  angle  included  by  any  two 
normals  is  the  supplement  of  that  included  by  the  two 
corresponding  faces. 

It  is  thus  easy  to  determine  the  angles  of  any  two 
normals  when  that  of  the  corresponding  faces  is  known,  or 
vice  versa.  Thus,  if  the  angle  between  two  faces  is  125*, 
that  of  the  normals  will  be  5,5°.  The  spheres  of  projection 
are  specially  adapted  to  enable  us  to  avail  ourselves  of  the 
aid  to  calculation  afforded  by  the  forenoted  fact  that  sets 
of  faces  lie  parallel  to  each  other,  forming  zones  ;  for,  when  Zones, 
projected  on  such  a  sphere,  the  normals  of  the  parcel 
faces  will  all  lie  in  one  plane  ;  and  the  poles,  all  cutting 
its  surface  in  the  direction  of  one  line,  may  be  connected, 
and  so  form  a  great  circle  on  the  sphere.  This  is  called 
the  "  zone  circle. 'i_  A  line  drawn  throueh  the  centre  pf  tti» 
XYI.  --  45 


354 


MINERALOGY 


zone  plane,  cutting  it  at  right  angles,  Is  the  "  zone  a:ris  " ;  it 
IS  parallel  to  all  the  faces,  and  intersections  of  the  faces  (if 
they  are  extended  enough  to  intersect),  of  the  zone.  A  face 
may  be  common  to  two  or  more  zones;  its  normals  will  then 
coincide  with  the  intersections  of  the  several  zone  planes, 

In  the  absence  of  actual  spheres  upon  which  to  detail  the 
facts  which  go  to  form  the  "sphere  of  projection"  o£  cacH 
substance,  the  hemisphere  is  represented  on  a  plane  surface. 
This  has  of  necessity  the  disadvantage,  except  as  regards 
the  circumferential  zone,  of  introducing  spherical  distance- 
distortion — foreshortening  of  all  parts  lying  near  the  cir- 
cumference ;  but  the  eye  soon  gets  accustomed  to  this.  Fig. 
43  presents  the  principal  zones  of  the  cubic  system,  and 


Fib'.  43. 
shows  the  position  of  the  poles'*  of  the  faces  of  the  cube, 
the  octahedron,  and  the  rhombic  dodecahedron,  o^,  Oj,  Or. 
<kc.,  are  the  poles  of  the  octahedral  faces ;  a^,  Gj,  a^,  <fec.,  those 
of  the  faces  of  the  cube ;  and  d^^  d^  c?3,  &c.,  those  of  Tue' 
Vhombic  dodecahedron.  It  will  be  observed  that  the  faces 
of  the  cube  fall  into  the  zone  circles  of  the  octahedron  and 
dodecahedron,  while  those  of  the  octahedron  fall  into  those 


Frb.  44.— Principal  Poles  ot  Cubic  System  in  Octant  of  Sphere, 
of  the  rhombic  dodecahedron.  Considering  this  as  a 
delineation  of  a  globe,  these  zone  circles  come  to  re[)resent 
latitude  and  longitude ;  and,  as  almost  all  the  faces  in  this 
system  fall  into  some  zone  circle,  it  is  clear  that  the 
latitude  and  longitude  of  all  normals  may  be  readily  laid 
dou*n,  and  their  relations  at  .once  determined  by  spherical 
trigonometry.  Fig.  44  shows  the  arrangement  of  tho  poles 
of   all  the  forms  belonging  to  the  cubic  system   noticed 


above,  or  referred  *o  in  the  present  article, — delineated  on 
an  octant  of  the  sphere  of  projection.  It  displays  the 
perfect  regularity  of  the  system. 

Hcmikedral  and   Tetartohcdral  Forms.— The    exception  to  the  HemW 
second  law  (that  of  symmetry),  which  was  formulated  by  AVeits,  hednJ 
w;i3  to  the  effect  that  one-hall  or  even  one-fourth  only  of  the   fnces  forms. 
which  go  to  lormc.  holohedrai  crystal  may  be  present.    When    but 
one-half  of  the  faces  present  thejnselves,  the  form  is  termed  hemi* 
hcJral;  when  ouly  one-fourth,  it'is  tetartohcdral.     These  restrained 
developments  have  now  to  be  considered.      In  hcmihedral  forms 
the  development   is   restrained,    but  symmetry  is  not  deranged; 
half  the  similar  parts  are  still  alike,  though  ruliku  the  otlior  half. 

There  oie  two  classes  of  hemihedral  fonns  : 

I.  Those  furms  in  whic>  halt  the  similar  angles  or  edges  are 
modified  independently  of  the  other  half  (*'hemi-holohedral"), 
producing — 

1.  In  the  monoraetric  and  diraetric  systems  '  tetrahedral "  and 
"spheuoidal"  forms,  by  the  independeut  replacement  of  the  alter- 
nate  angles;  tlieir  opposite  faces  are  not  parallel,  and  they  aro 
hence  called  "inclined  "  hemihedrons;  qs  inchalcopyrite,  boracite.* 
The  replacement  in  the  dinietric  system  of  two  opposite  basal  edges 
at  one  base  and  the  other  two  at  the  opposite  base  is  of  the  san*. 
kind;  as  in  ejingtonite. 

2.  In  the  trimetrin  system  *' monoclinic"  forms,  by  the  replace- 
ment of  half  the  similar  parts  of  one  base  and  the  diagonally 
opposite  of  the  other,  unlike  the  oth^r  half;  as  in  datholit<',  humtte. 

3.  In  the  trimctric  and  hexagonal  systems  "hemimorphic  "lorms, 
by  independent  replacements  at  the  opposite  extremities  of  the 
crystal ;  as  in  topaz,  calamine,  tourmaline. 

4.  In  the  rhomboh^dral  system,  by  the  replacements  of  the 
alternate  basal  edges  or  angles  of  the  rhombohedron,  forms  usually 
called  **tet'  ;x)hedral"  or  quarter  forms,  on  the  ground  that 
mathematically  tho  rhombohedron  is  a  hemihedral  form  derived 
from  the  hexagonal  prism,  which  is  the  type  of  the  hexngonul  system. 
Uock  crystal  is  usually  developed  according  to  this  Jaw. 

II.  Those  forms  in  which  all  the  siii,;lar  angles  or  edges  are 
modified,  but  by  half  the  full  or  normal  number  of  planes  {''holo- 
hemihedral"),  producing— 

1.  In  the  monometric  system  *'pyritohedral'*  forms,  by  a  replace, 
nicnt  of  the  edges  or  angles  ;  as  in  pyrites.  Sucli  forms  have 
opposite  faces  pai-allel,  and  are  often  called  parallel  hemihedrous. 

2.  In  the  dimetric  system  "pyramidar'aud  "scalenoidal"  forms, 
by  a  replacement  of  the  eight  solid  angles  of  the  primary  prism, 
according  to  two  raetthods. 

3.  In  the  hexagonal  system  "  pyramoidal ''  and  "gTiToidal" 
forms,  by  a  replacement  of  the  solid  angles  of  the  hexagonal 
prism,  or  of  the  sis  lateral  angles  of  the  rhombohedron,  according  to 
two  methods;  as  in  quartz  and  apatite. 

The  above  illustrations  show  that  hemihedriem  is  not  only 
divided  into  two  classes,  but  is  of  various  kinds,  and  these  have 
been  systematized  as  follows: — "  holomorphic,"  in  which  tho 
occurring  planes  pertain  equally  to  the  upper  and  lower  (or  opposite) 
ranges  of  stct^ints,  as  in  ordinary  heraihedrons  ;  and  (2)  "lienii- 
morphic,**  in  which  each  Get  of  planes  pertains  to  cither  the  upi^or 
or  the  lower  range,  but  not  to  both.  As  to  the  relative  position  of 
the  sectants  which  contain  the  planes,  the  foims  may  be  ^-cj'Iicallj 
direct,  as  in  baryte  ;  vertically  alternate,  as  ia  the  tetrahedron,  the 
rhombohedron,  and  the  plagilu-dral  faces  ot  quartz  ;  and  vtrtically 
oblique,  as  in  many  forms  of  chonaroditc. 

In  hemimorphic  forma  symmetiy  is  deranged ;  the  crystals  ai-e  Demi- 
bounded  at  t'le  opposite  ends  of  th:ii  main  axes  by  faces  bdonging  morphU 
to  distinct  formi.  or  modifications. — always, 
however,  of  the  same  system  ;  hence  only  tJie 
upper  or  tlie  \iuder  half  of  each  ciystal  can  be 
regarded  as  complete,  as  i-egards  tlitform  there 
seen  ;  and  so  for  each  end  it  is  half  formed. 

Fig.  45  i-cprescnts  a  crystal  of  tourmaline, 
which  is  bounded 
on  the  upper  end 
by  the  planes  of 
the  rhombohedrons 
Ji{P)  and  -2R{o), 
and  on  the  lower 
end  by  the  basal 
pinncoid  (f)-  In 
tig.  46  of  smith- 
sooito  tho  u}iper 
oxtromity  shows  the 
banc  k,  two  brachydomes  o  oiul  ;),  and  two  macrodomes 

'  As  the  parts  of  either  half  arc  .iltcniatc,  there  still  results  a  fynime- 
tiicil  solid.  At>  either  one  or  other  half  may  be  the  one  thus  modified, 
there  may  result  two  such  symmetric  solid%  which  stand  in  an  invrrid 
]TOsition  to  one  another.  When  the  moditlcatioas  affect  the  upper  right- 
hand  solid  nnj;lc,  the  resulting  torra  is  calle'*  +  ;  when  the  upper  Iffl- 
haud  angle  it  is-. 


\  ftnd  /; 


MINERALOGY 


355 


whilst  on  the  lower  end  it  is  bounde  J  by  the  faces  P  of  the  primary 
tlone. 

It  has  been  found  that  all  hemimorphic  crystals  become  electri- 
cally polar  when  heated,  that  is,  exhibit  opposite  kinds  of  electricity 
at  opposite  ends  of  the  crystal.  The  subject  will  he  more  fully  con- 
sidered under  the  electricity  of  minerals. 
The  hemihedral  forms  of  the  cubic  system  are  the  following  : — 
1.  The  tetrahedron  (fig.  47),  hemihedral  of  the  octahedron,  is 
bounded  by  four  equilateral  triangles.  It  has  six  equal  edges  with 
faces  meeting  at  70°  32',  and  four  trigonal  angles.  The  principal 
axes  join  the  middle  points  of  each  two  opposite  edges.  Examples : 
^ahlore,  boracite  and  helrine. 


Fig.  iS. 

2.  The  trigonal  dodecahedrons  (fig.  48),  hemihedral  of  the  icosi- 
tetrahedron,  are  bounded  by  twelve  isosceles  triangles,  and  vary  in 
general  form  from  the  tetrahedron  to  the  cube.  There  are  six  longer 
edges  corresponding  to  those  of  the  inscribed  tetrahedron,  and 
twelve  shorter,  placed  three  and  three  over  each  of  its  faces,  and 
fonr  hexagonal  and  four  trigonal  angles.     Example  :  tetrahedrite. 

3.  The  deltoid  dodecahedrons  (fig.  49),  hemihedral  of  the  triakis- 
octahedron,  are  bounded  by  twelve  deltoids,  and  vary  in  general 
form  from  the  tetrahedron  on  the  one  hand  to  tlie  rhombic 
dodecahedron  on  the  other.  They  have  twelve  longer  edges  lying 
in  pairs  over  the  edges  of  the  inscribed  tetrahedron,  and  twelve 
shorter  edges,  three  and  three  over  each  of  its  faces.  There 
are  six  tetragonal  (rhombic),  four  acute  trigonal,  and  four  obtuse 
trigonal  angles.  The  principal  axes  join,  two  and  two,  opposite 
thombic  angles.     Example  :  tetrahedrite. 


.Fig.  49.  Fig.  50. 

4.  Tlio  hexakistetrahedrons  (fig.  60),  hemihedral  of  the  hexakfs- 
octahedron,  are  bounded  by  twenty-four  scaler.e  triangles,  and  most 
commonly  have  their  faces  grouped  in  four  systems  of  six  c-xch. 
'i'he  edges  are  twelve  shorter  and  twelve  longer,  lying  in  groups  of 
three  over  each  face  of  the  inscribed  tetrahedron,  and  twelve  in- 
termediate in  pairs  over  its  edges.  The  angles  are  six  rhombic, 
joined  in  pairs  by  the  principal  axes,  and  four  acuter  and  four 
obtuser  hexagonal  angles.     Exanple  :  diamonu. 

In  these  forms,  often  named  "  tetr .  jedral,"  the  faces  are  oblique 
to  each  other.  TTieir  derivation  and  signs  are  as  follows.  The  tetra- 
hedron arises  when  four  alternate  faces  of  the  octahedron,  two 
opposite  above  and  two  intermediate  below,  are  enlarged  so  as  to 

obliterate  the  other  fcnr ;  and  its  sign  is  hence  — .    Bu';,  as  either 

four  faces  may  be  thus  enlarged  or  obliterated,  two  tetrahedrons  can 
be  formed,  sirafiar  in  all  respects  except  in  position,  and  together 
making  up  the  octahedron.  These  are  distinguished  by  the  signs  + 
and  - ,  added  to  the  above  symbol,  but  only  the  latter  in  general 


expressed,  thus  • 


,  In  all  hemihedric  systems  two  forms  simi- 


ttrly  related  occur,  which  may  thus  bo  named  complementary 
forms.  The  trigonal  dodecahedron  is  derived  from  the  icositetra- 
bedron  by  the  expansion  of  the  alternate  trigonal  groups  of  faces. 
,.      .       .    mOm     .,  ,^  ■  .    I  •        202  /      __ 

Its-  sign  IS  —I     ,  the  most  common  vanety  berng  —^  .      dne 

deltoid  dodecahedron  is  in  like  manner  the  residt  of  the  incresise  of 
the  alternate  trigonal  groups  of  faces  of  the  triakisoctahedron,  and 


tts  sign  is 


mO 


Lastly,  the  hexalcistetrahedron  arises  in  the 


development  of  alternate  hexagonal  groups  of  faces  in  the  heza^ 
kiaoctahedroD,  and  its  sign  is  — -— 


Two  semitesseral  forms  with  parallel  faces  occur.  (1)  The 
pentagonal  dodecahedrons  (fig.  61),  bounded  by  twelve  symmetrical 
pentagons,  vary  in  general  aspect  between  the  cube  and  the  rhombic 
dodecahedron.  They  have  six  regular. (and  in  general  longer) 
edges,  lying  over  the  faces  of  the  inscvibsd  cube,  and  twenty- 


Fig.  51. 


Fig.  52. 


four,  generally  shorter  \seldom  longer),  edges,  usually  lying  in 
pairs  over  its  edges.  The  solid  angles  are  eight  of  three  equal 
interfacial  angles,  and  twelve  of  three  interfacial  angles,  of  \?iiich 
only  two  are  equal.  Each  principal  axis  unites  two  opposite  regular 
edges.  This  form  is  derived  from  the  tetrakishexahedron,  and  its 
sign  is  — - —  .     It  is  found  frequently  in  iron  pyrites  and  cohaltine. 

(2)  The  dyakisdodecahedron  (fig.  52),  bounded  by  twenty-four 
trapezoids  with  two  sides  equal,  has  twelve  short,  twelve  long,  and 
twenty-four  intermediate  edges.  The  angles  are  six  equiangular 
rhombic,  united  in  pairs  by  the  principal  axes,  eight  trigonal,  and 
twenty-four  irregular  tetragonal  angles.     It  is  derived  from  the 

hexakisoctahedron,  and  its  sign  is   I  1  ,  the  brackets  being 

used  to  distinguish  it  from  the  hexakistetrahedron,  also  derived 
from  the  same  primary  form.  It  occurs  in  iron  pyrites  and 
cobaltinc.      The  two   other  semitesseral    forms,    the   pentagonal 


Fig.  63.  Fig.  54 

dodecahedron  (fig.  63),  and  the  pentagonal  icositetrahedron  (fijj 
54),  both  bounded  by  irregular  pentagons,  have  not  yet  ,been 
observed  in  nature. 

CombiruUions. — The  above-mentioned  forms  of  the  tes-  Comhin* 
serai  system  (and  this  is  true  also  of  the  five  other  systems  tions.  -^ 
of  crystallization)  not  only  occur  singly,  but  often    two, 
three,  or  more  occur  united  in  the  same  crystal,  forming 
■what  are  named  combinations. 

In  this  case  it  is  evident  that  no  one  of  the  individual 
forms  can  be  complete,  because  the  faces  of  one  form  mu.st 
interfere  -with,  by  diminishing,  the  faces  of  other  forms. 
A  combination  therefore  implies  that  the  faces  of  one  form 
shall  appear  symmetrically  disposed  between  the  faces  of 
other  forms,  and  consequently  take  the  place  of  certain 
of  their  edges  and  angles.  These  edges  and  angles  are 
thus,  as  it  were,  cut  off,  and  a  greater  number  of  new 
ones  produced  in  their  place,  which  properly  belong  neither 
to  the  one  form  nor  the  other,  but  are  angles  of  combina- 
tion. These  new  faces  are  hence  termed  modifications, 
and  the  original  or  primary  or  simple  form  is  said  to  be 
modified.  Usually  one  form  predominates  more  than  the 
ethers,  or  has  more  influence  on  the  general  aspect  of  the 
crystal,  and  hence  is  distinguished  as  the  predominant 
form,  the  others  being  considered  subordinate. 

The  sign  of  the  combinstion  consists  of  those  of  its  constitnenl 
forms,  written  in  the  order  of  their  influence  or  importance  in  the 
combination,  with  a  point  between  each  pair. 

ItwiU  be  readily  seen  that  such  combinations  may  be  exceedingly 
nnmerouB,  ar  rather  infinite ;  and  only  n.  *>w  of  the  more  common 


356 


MINERALOGY 


can  be  noticed.  Many  others  raoro  complicated  will  occur  in  the 
descriptive  pnrt  of  tliia  article.  Among  bolohodral  combinations, 
tlie  cube,  octnhoilron,  and  rhombic  dodecahedron  are  the  predomin- 
ant forms.  In  fig.  27  the  cube  has  its  angles  replaced  by  the  faeoa 
of  the  octahedron,  which  truncate  the  angles,  and  the  sign  of  this 
combination  is  coOoo ,  0.  In  fig.  28  this  process  may  be  regarded  as 
having  proceeded  still  farther,  so  that  the  faces  of  the  octahedron 
nearly  equal  those  of  the  cube,  while  in  fig.  29  they  now  predom- 
inate ;  tne  sign,  still  of  the  same  two  elements,  but  in  reverse 
order,  is  0,  ooOoo  .  It  will  thus  be  seen  that,  through  an  increase  in 
the  amount  of  the  abstraction  of  the  faces  of  the  cube,  the  figure 
gradually  passes  over  into  that  of  the  octahedron.  This  may  occur 
in  all  cases,  and  is  termed  the  passage  of  the  cube  into  the  octa- 
hedron (or  vice  versa),  or  a  "  transition  by  decrement." 

In  fig.  31  the  cube  has  its  edges  replaced  by  the  faces  of  the 
rhombic  dodecahedron,  which  truncate  the  eJges,  the  sign  being 
ooO=o,ooO;  while  m  fig.  32  there  is  the  same  combination,  but  with 
the  faces  of  the  cube  subordinate,  and  hence  the  sign  is  ooO,  ooOoo. 
The  former  figure,  it  will  be  seen,  has  more  the  general  aspect  of  the 
cube,  the  latter  of  the  dodecahedron.  Here  the  solid  angles  of  the 
latter  are  truncated  by  the  faces  of  the  cube,  and  we  have  the 
passage  of  the  cube  into  the  dodecaliedron  by  decrement.  The 
same  transition,  through  truncation  or  decrement,  could  be  shown 
in  all  cases  of  combinations,  and  in  both  directions,  the  last  stage 
of  the  passage  into  one  or  other  form  always  consisting  of  the 
replacement  of  its  solid  or  interfacial  angles  by  facee  of  the  de- 
parting figure,  more  or  less  minute.  A  few  illustrations  of  this 
may  be  given,  in  the  three  most  important  forms. 

The  relationship  of  the  tetrakishexahcdron  to  the  cube  has 
above  been  stated  to  be,  that  its  faces  form  si.x  low  quadrilateral 
pyramids,  which  rest  upon  or  spring  from  the  edges  of  the  cube. 
(From  this  the  form  derives  its  trivial  name  of  four-faced  cube.) 
Hence  these  faces  bevel  the  edges  of  the  cube.  The  first  stage  of 
such  bevelling  (or  the  last  stage  of  the  truncation  of  the  tetmkis- 
hoxahedrou  by  the  faces  of  the  cube — whichever  way  it  may  be 
regarded)  is  seen  in  fig.  65.  As  the  cubic  face  is  here  dominant, 
the  sign  is  ooOco ,  oo03.     Fig.  56  shows  a  somewhat  similar  stage 


^<f \^J^ 

y-'i  ■■  1 

y 

spH 

;  i 
1  i 
..•1. 1  ,-•' 

s 

z 

i 
I 

Fig.  55. 


Fig.  66. 


in  the  modification  produced  through  the  combination  of  the  icosi- 
tetrahedron  with  the  cube.  The  trilateral  pyramid  which  this 
form  places  upon  the  faces  of  the  cube  rests  upon  its  solid  angles, 
instead  of,  as  in  the  last  case,  upon  its  edges  ;  hence  it  is  these 
solid  angles  which,  in  the  process  of  decreuient,  it  replaces  by  faces 
which  form  a  low  three-sided  pyramid.     The   triakisoctahedron, 


Fig.  67. 


Fig.  58. 


again,  modifies  the  solid  angles  of  the  cube,  as  shown  in  fig.  57,  by 
&  low  three-sided  pyramid,  positioned  at  right  angles  to  that 
considered  in  the  last  combination.  As 
the  hexakisoctahedron  is  merely  the 
two-faced  form  of  that  last  considered, 
the  pyramid  which  modifies  the  solid 
anglos  is,  in  its  combination  with  the 
cube,  six-sided,  as  in  fig.  58. 

As  the  faces  of  the  rhombic  dodeca- 
hedron truncate  the  edges  of  the  octa- 
hedron, fig.  34  represents  the  first  stngo 
of  such  truncation  or  combination;  while 
fig.  35  may  be  taken  as  representing  the 
last,  the  faces  of  the  octahedron  being 
there  nearly  totally  removed. 

Fig.   69  shows  the  first   stage  of  the 
passage  of  the  octahedron  into  the  icosi tetrahedron,  in  the  trunca- 
"  tioa  of  the  solid  angles  of  the  fornjer  form  by  a  foui"-sided  pyra- 


Fig.  69. 


mid  formed  by  the  (6  x  4)  faces  of  the  latter.  The  facc8  of  the 
octahedron  truncate  the  three-faced  solid  angles  of  the  rhombic 
dodecahedron.  Fig.  35  shows  the  first  stage  of  thia  truDcation, 
while  fig.  34  shows  an  advanced  amount.     The  faces  of  the  icosi- 


Fig.  60.  Fig.  61. 

tetrahedron  truncate  the  edges  of  the  rhombic  dodecahedron,  as  in 
fig.  60  ;  while  those  of  the  latter  truncate  the  unequal- angled  tetra- 
gonal (or  rhombic)  angles  of  the  former  (fig.  61).  The  faces  of  the 
hexakisoctahedron  bevel  the  edges  of  the  rhombic  dodecahedron. 

While  such  transitions  may  appear  indefinite,  yet  certain 
minerals  have  either  in  themselves  a  habit,  or  have  at  certain 
localities  a  habit,  of  crystallizing  so  markedly  in  a  certain  stage 
of  these  transitions  as  to  be  absolutely  capable  of  recognition 
thereby. 

Combinations  of  hemihedral  or,  as  they  have  been  called,  bcmi-  Combina- 
tesseral   forms  are  of  three  classes: — those  with  holohedral  forms,  tions  of 
those  in  which  the  faces  fall  obliquely  on  one  another,  and  those  hemi- 
with  parallel  faces.    Fig.  62  shows  the  combination  of  a  right-  bedral 

forms. 


Fig.  62.'  Fig.  63. 

hanoed  tetrahedron  with  the  cube,  which  truncates  its  edges,  the 
tetrahedron  here  being  dominant.  Fig.  63,  again,  shows  a  0(Jm- 
bination  of  the  cubo-dodecahedron  with  a  right-handed  tetrahedron, 
the  first  or  holohedral  form  being  in  this  case  markedly  dominant. 
Fig.  64  is  an  illustration  of  the  second  class,  combinations  of 


Fig.  64.  Fig.  65. 

obliauc-faced  semitcsseral  forms  with  each  other.     In  it  s  right- 
hauaed  tetrahedron  has  its  solid  angles  truncated  by  the  facr«  of 

one  which  is  left-handed  ;  and  so  its  sign  is  —  , .      Fig.  66 

shows  a  combination  of  a  right-handed   tetrahedron  with  a  left- 


Fig.  66.  Fig.  67. 

handed  three-faced  tetrahedron.  Fip.  66  shows  a  combinotibn  of 
a  right-han<lod  hemihcdron  of  the  icositetrabc<Iron  with  a  right- 
handed  tetrahedron. 

Parallel-faced  homihedrons  generally  form  combinations  with 
hololiodral  forms  ;  and  the  amount  of  relati^•c  dorunanco  is  of  oil 
degrees.     Fig.  67  shove  a  combination,  in  equal  amount,  of  the  cubff 


MINERALOGY 


357 


■JRtli  »  Tflrtic&^.facea  pentagonal  dodecahedron;  while  fig.  68  shows 
an  increase  in  the  amoont  of  trancation  effected  bj  the  latter.  Fig. 
§9  shows  the  combination  of  the  cube  with  the  djakidodecohedron. 


Fig.  68. 


Fig.  69. 


the  former  being  dominant.    In  fig.  70  an  octahedron,  in  dominance, 
is  combined  with  the  vertical-faced  pentagonal  dodecahedron;  in 


Fig.  70.  Fig.  71. 

fig.  71  the  faces  of  these  forms  are  of  nearly  equal  size,  while  in 
fig.  72  the  octahedral  faces  are  nearly  remoTed.     The  solid  angles  of 


Fig.  72.  Fig.  73. 

tbe  octahedron  are  modified  in  Sg.  73  by  the  foces  of  the  dyalds- 
dodecahedron.    In  fig.  68  a  vertical'iaced   pentagonal   dodeca* 


Fig-_74.  Fig.  75. 

hedron  is  the  prevailing  form  in  combination  with  the  cabe;  while 
in  fig.  74  the  faces  of  the  octahedron  are  superadded.  In  fig.  75  its 
octahedral  angles  are  modified  by  the  faces  of  the  icositetrahedron, 


Fig.  76.  Fig.  77. 

and  in  fig.  76  by  those  of  the  Oo^hedron  in  addition.     In  fig. 
77  they  are  modified  by  the  faces  of  the  dyakisdodecaliedron. 

In  etkch  of  the  five  systems  which  follow  there  is  this 
difference  from  the  cubic  system  that  one  axis  is  always 
tmequal  to  (longer  or  shorter  than)  the  others.     This  is 


placed  erect,  and  named  the  chief  axis ;  its  ends  are  poles,  Dimetrie 
and  the  edges  connected  with  them  polar  edges.      The  ""d 
other  axes  are  named  subordinate  or  lateral  axes,  and  the  '"metric 
plane  that  passes  through  them  is   the  base.     A  plane  "'""'' 
through  the  chief   and  a  lateral  axis  is  a  normal  chief 
sectioru     In  these  systems  also  occur  the  three  forms  of 
"pyramids,"  "prisms,"  and  "pinacoids."     (1)  The  pyra- 
mids have  their   faces  triangles.     Pyramids  in  crystallo- 
graphy are   each   composed   of   two  geometric   pyramids 
placed  base  to  base,  and  named  "closed  forma,"  as  the 
crystab  are  shut  in  by  definite  faces  on  every  side.     (2) 
The  prisms  are  bounded  by  plane  faces  parallel  to  one  axis. 
They  are  thus  of  unlimited  extent  in  the  direction  of  that 
axis,  and  therefore  named  "open  forms," but  in  solid  crystals 
are. shut  in  by  feces  of  other  forms.     (3)  The  pinacoids,  or 
tables,  have  two  faces  intersecting  one  axis  and  parallel 
to  the  others,  and  thus  are  also  open  forms,  or  unlimited  iu 
the  direction  of  these  axes.     Forms  (2)  and  (3),  when  con- 
joined, mutually  shut  in  each  other,  or  produce  closed  forms. 

IL  Pyramidal  or  Tetragonal  System. — This  system  has  Pyra- 
three  axes  at  right  angles,  two  of  them  equal,  and  the  chief  """^^l 
axis  longer  or  shorter.     The  name  tetragonal  is  derived  ^^''^"^ 
from  the  form  of  the  base,  which  is  usually  quadrangular. 

There  are  eight  tetragonal  forms,  of  which  five  are  closed.  (1) 
Tetragonal  pyramids  (figs.  ?8,  79)  are  enclosed  by  eight  isosceles 
triangles,  with  four  middle  edges  all 
in  one  plane,  and  eight  polar  edges. 
There  are    three    kinds   of  this  form, 


Fig.  79. 


Fig.  78. 

distinguished  by  the  position  of  the 
lateral  axes.  In  the  first  these  axes 
unite  the  opposite  angles  ;  in  the  second 
they  intersect  the  middle  edges  eaaally ;  and  in  the  third  they 
lie  in  an  intermediate  position,  or  divide  these  edges  unequally, — 
the  la*t  being  hemihcoral  forms.  These  pyramidsjare  also  dis- 
tinguished as  obtuse  (fig.  78)  or  acute  (fig.  79),  according  as  the 
vortical  angle  is  greater  or  less  than  in  t^e 
regular  octahedron.  (2)  Ditetragonal  pyra- 
Tnids  (fig.  80)  are  bounded  by  sixteen  scalene 
triangles,  whose   base-lines   are  all  In  one 


Fig.  80,  Fig.  81. 

plane.  This  form  rarely  occnrs  except  in  combinations.  (3)  Tetra- 
gonal sphenoids  (fig.  81),  bounded  by  four  isosceles  triangles,  are 
the  h^mihedral  forms  of  the  first  variety  of  tetragonal  pyramids. 
H)  The  tetragonal  scalenohedron  (fig.  82),  bounded  by  eight  scalene 
triangles,  whose  bases  rise  and  fall  in  a  ziraig  line,  is  tlie  hemi- 
hedral  form  of  the  ditetragonal  pyramid.  Nos.  (3)  and  (4)  are  rare. 
(5)  The  tetragonal  trapezohedron  is  not  found  in  minerals  as  a  simple 
form.  The  three  open  forms  are — (1)  tetragonal  prisms,  bounded 
by  four  planes  parallel  to  the  principal  axis,  which  may  be  either 
longer  (fig.  83)  or  shorter  (fig.  84)  than  the  lateral  axes;  (2)  dite- 
tragonal prisms,  bounded  by  eight  similar  planes;  and (3)  the  basal 
pinacoid,  consisting  merelv  of  two  parallel  faceslMuuding  the  pnsms 
at  the  ends,  above  and  below.  •  .    >  » 

Tli«  various  series  of  tetragonal  crystals  are  distinguished  from 
each  other  only  by  their  rthitive  dimensions.     To  determiae  these. 


3r)8 


MINERALOGY 


Prinii-      one  of  the  series  most  be  chosen  as  the  primary  fonn,  and  for  this 

live  purpose  a  tetragonal  pyramid  of  the  first  variety,  designated  by  P 

pyramid,  as  its  sign,  is  selected.     The  angle  of  one  of  its  edges,  especially 

the  middle  edge,  found   by  measurement,  determines  its  angular 

dimensions,  whilst  the  proportion  of  the  princiual  axis  a  to  the 


Deii 


Fig.  82,  Fig.  84. 

lateral  axes,  supposed  equal  to  1,  giTes  its  linear  dimensions.  The 
parameters,  therefore,  of  each  face  of  the  fundamental  form  are 
1  :  1  :  a. 

Now  if  m  be  any  (rational)  number,  either  less  or  greater  than 
unity,  and  if  from  any  distance  ma  in  the  principal  axis  planes  be 
drawn  to  the  middle  edge  of  P,  then  new  tetragonal  pyramids  of 
the  first  order,  but  more  or  less  acute  br  obtuse  than  P,  are  formed. 
u\  The  general  sign  of  these  pyramids  is  mP,  and  the  most  common 
varieties  JP,  2P,  and 


-with  the  chief 
axis  half,  twice,  or 
thrice  that  of  P.  If 
m  becomes  infinite, 
then      the     pyramid 

Prism.  passes  into  a  prism, 
indefinitely  extended 
along  the  principal 
axis,  and  with  the 
sign  ooP.  If  7n«0, 
which  is  the  case 
when  the  lateral  axea 
are  supposed  iufinite, 
then    it    becomes     a 

Pinacuid.  pinacoid,     consisting 

f)roperly  of  two  basal 
aces  open  towards 
the  lateral  axes,  and 
designated  by  the 
sign  OP.  The  ditetra- 
gonal  pyramids  are 
produced  by  taking 
in  each  lateral  axis 
distances  n  greater 
than  1,  and  drawing 
Vvo  pianos  to  these 
points  from  each 
of    the    intermediate 


Fig.  86. 


Fig.  87.- 


polar  edges.  The  parameters  of  these  planes  are  therefore  m  :  1  :  n, 
and  the  general  sign  of  the  form  mPti,  the  most  common  values 
of  71  being  ^,  2,  3,  and  oo.  When  7i  — co,  a  tetragonal  pyramid  of 
the  second  order  arises,  designated  generally  by  jnPoo,  the  most 
common  in  the  mineril  kingdom  being  Poo  and  2Poo .  The  relation 
of  these  to  pyramids  of  the  first  order  is  sliown  in  fig.  85,  where 
ABBBC  is  the  first  and  ACCCX  the  second  order  of  pyramid.  In 
like  manner,  from  the  prism   oop,  the  ditetragonal  prisms  ooPn 


Fig.  88.  Fig.  89. 

aw  derived,  and,  finally,  when  n-oo  the  tetragonal  prism  of  the 
•econd  order,  whose  sign  ia  ooPoo. 
The  couibiuatiottfl  ofthc  tetragonal  sysUm  are  either  holohcdral 


or  liemihedral ;  but  the  latter  are  rare.  Prisms  and  pinacoida 
must  always  be  terminated  on  the  open  sides  by  other  forms.  Thus 
in  fig.  86  a  square  prism  of  the  first  order  is  terminated  by  the 
primary  pyramid,  and  has  its  lateral  angles  again  replaced  by 
another  more  acute  pyramid  of  the  second  order,  bo  that  its  sigQ 
is  wP,  P,  2Pc 

In  fig.  87  a  prism  of  the  second  order  ia  first  bounded  by  the 
fundamental  pyramid,  and  then  has  its  'edges  of  combination 
replaced  by  a  ditetragonal  pyramid  ;  its  sign  is  odPoo,  P,  3P3.  In 
fig.  88  the  polar  edges  ol  the  pyramid  are  replaced  bv  another 
pyramid,  its  sign  being  P,  Pco .  In  fig.  89  a  hemihedric  form,  very 
characteristic  of  chalcopyrite,  is  represented, — P  and  F"  being  the 
two  sphenoids,  a  the  basal  pinacoid,  and  b,  c  two  ditetragonal 
pyramids. 

m.  Tlie  Hexagonal  System. — The  esserftial  character  of  B«h& 
this  system  is  that  it  has  four  axes, — three  eqnal  lateral  8<»^ 
axes  intersecting  each  other  in  one  plane  at  60",  and  one  ''***™' 
principal  axis  at  right  angles  to  these.     The  plane  through 
the  lateral  axes,  or  the  base,  from  its  hexagonal  form,  gives 
the  name  to  the  system.     As  in  the  last  system,  its  forms 
are  either  closed  or  open.    They  are  divided  into  holohedral, 
hemihedral,  and  tetartohedral, — the  last,  which  are  rare, 
having  only  a  fourth  part  of  the  faces  developed.     Only  a 
few  of  the  more  common  forms  require  to  be  here  described. 

The  hexagonal  pyramids  (figs.  90,  91)  are  bounded  by  twelve  P>il»- 
isosceles  triangles,  and  are  of  three  kinds,  according  as  the  lateral  nud» 
axes  fall  in  the  angles,  in  the  middle 
of  the  lateral  edges,  or  in  another 
point  of  these  edges,  the  last  being 
hemihedral  forms.  They  are  also 
classed  as  acute  or  obtuse,  but  with- 
out any  precise  limits.  The  trigonal 
pyramid  is  bounded  by  six  triangles, 
and  may  be  viewed  as  the  hemihedral 
form  of  the  hexagonal.  The  dihexa- 
gonal  pyramid  is  oounded  bv  twenty- 
four  scalene  triangles,  but  has  never 
been  observed  alone,  and  rarely  even 
in  combinations.  The  more  common 
prisms  are  the  hexagonal  of  six  sides  ; 
in  these  the  vertical  axis  may  be 
either  longer  than  the  lateral,  as  in 
fig.  92,  or  shorter,  as  in  fig.  93. 
There  are  also  dihexagonal,  of  twelve 
sides, 

A-particular  pyramid  P  is  chosen 
as  the  fundamental  form  of  this 
system,  and  its  dimensions  deter- 
mined either  from  the  proportion  of 
the  lateral  lo  the  principal  axis  (1  :  a)  , 
or  from  the  measurement  of  its  angles. 
From  this  form  (mP)  others  are  de- 
rived exactly  as  in  the  tetragonal 
system.  Thus  dihexagonal  pyramids 
are  produced  with  the  general  sign 
mPri,  the  chief  peculiarity  being  that,  ^^^-  ^*- 

whereas  in  the  tetragonal  system  n  might  have  any  rational  value 
from  i  to  05,  in  the  hexagonal  system  it  can  only  vary  from  1  to 
2,  in  consequence  of  the  geometric  character  "of  the  figure.  When 
n-2,  the  dihexagonal  changes  into  an  hexagonal  pyramid  of  the 
second  order,  whose  sign  is  MiP2.  When  in  — oo.  various  prisma 
arise       from      similar 


the 


changes  ir 

of  71  ;  and  wheniJi-O 

the    basal   pinacoid  is 

formed. 

Few  hexagonal  min- 
eral sncriea  form  per- 
fect    holohcdral    com- 
binations. Though 
quartz  and  apatite  ap- 
pear as  such,  yet  pro- 
perly the    former  is  a 
tetartohc<lral,  the  lat- 
ter ft  hemihedral  spe- 
cies.       In    holohedral 
species    the    predomi- 
nant fAces  are  usually 
those  of  tho  hexiigonal  Fig.  93.  Fig.  94. 
prisms  ooP  (fig.  92)  and  ooP2,  or  of  the  pinacoid  OP  (fig.  93);  whilrt  iTifcOii, 
the  pyramids  t*  and  2P2  aro  tho  moat  common  subordinate  forms. 
Fig.  94  represents  tho  prism,  bounded  on  the  extremities  by  two 
p)ramidS|— ouC|  P,  forming  ihp  apex,  the  other,  2P2,  the  rhombic 


MINEEALOaY 


359 


face*  on  tBe  angles,  or  «x>P,  P,  2P2.  Fig.  95  ia  a  sinrilar  form,  the 
upper  part  of  the  pyramid  being  replaced  by  the  pinacoid.  In 
some  crystals  the  lateral  edges  of  the  prism  are  replaced  by  the 


KxV 


Fig.  95.  Fig.  96.  Fig.  97. 

second  prism  osP2  (fig.  96),  producing  an  ejuiangnlar  twelve-sided 
prism,  which  always  represents  the  combination  ooP,  odP2,  and 
«aimot  occur  as  a  simple  form.    Figs.  97,  98  are  combinationa  iu  this 


Fig.  88.  Fig.  99. 

system  seen  in  beryl.  An  example  of  a  more  complicated  combina- 
tion is  seen  in  fig.  99,  of  a  crystal  of  apatite,  whose  sign  with  the 
corresponding  l-?tterais  o<,P(J/),  cxP2(«),  OP(i'),  }P(r),  P(x),  2PCz), 
P2(a),  2P2(s),  4P2(d). 

Hexagonal  minerals  frequently  crystallize  in  those  series  of  hemi- 
hedral  forms  that  are  named  "  rhoinbohedral,"  from  the  prevalence 
in  them  of  rhombohedrona.     These  (figs.  100.  101)  are  bounded  by 


Fig.  100.  Fig.  101. 

six  rhombi,  whose  lateral  edges  do  not  lie  In  one  plane,  bnt  rise  and 
fall  iu  a  zigzag  mauner.  The  principal  axis  unites  the  two  trigonal 
angles,  formed  by  three  e<jnal  plane  anglea ;  and  in  the  most 
variety    the   secondary   axes    join    the  y^- 

middle  points  of  two  opposite  edgea. 
"When  the  polar  edges  form  an  angle  of 
tnore  than  90°,  the  rhombohedrons  are 
oamed  obtuse  ;  when  of  less  than  90°, 
acute  ;  fig.  102  represents  the  first,  fig. 
103  the  second.  Hexagonal  scaleno- 
bedrona  (fig.  104)  are  bounded  by 
twelve  scalene  triangles,  whose  lateral 


Fig.  102.  Fig.  103. 

edges  do  not  lie  in  oco  plane.  The  principal  axis  joins  the  two 
hexagonal  angles,  and  the  secondary  axis  the  middle  [winta  of  two 
opposite  lateral  edges. 

The  rhombohedron  is  derived  from  the  first  order  of  hexagonal 
pyramid  by  the  hemih6di*al  development  of  its  alternate  faces.     Its 

general  sign  should  therefore  be  . — . ;  but  on  several  grounds  it  ia 

jbuud  better  to  designate  it  by  R  or  tnP,  and  its  complementary 
figure  by-mR.  Wlien  the  prism  or  pinacoid  arises  as  its  limiting 
form,  they  arc  designated  by  ooR  and  OR,  though  in  no  respect 
changed  from  the  limiting  forms  fsP  and  OP  o{  the  pyramid.    The 


scalenohedron  is  properly  the  hemibedral  form  of  the  dihexagonal 
pyramid,  bnt  ia  more  easUy  understood  as  derived  from  the  inscribed 
rhombohedron  mR.  If  the  halves  of  the  principal  axis  of  tUgj 
be  multiplied  by  a-  definite  number 
n,  and  then  planes  be  drawn  from 
the  extremities  of  this  enlarged  axis 
to  the  lateral  edges  of  the  rnombo- 
licdron,  as  in  fig.  105,  the  scaleno- 
hedron is  constnicted.  It  is  now 
designated  by  mRji  (the  n  on  the 
right  here  referring  to  the  chief  axis), 
and  the  dihexagonal  prism  in  this 
series  by  oo  Rn  (for- 
merly   TnR"    and 

coR"). 

The  combina- 
tions of  rhombo- 
hedral  forms  are 
very  numerous, 
several  hundreds 
having  been  de- 
scribed in  calc-spap 
alone.  Among  tha 
most  common  ia 
the  prism  in  com- 
bination with  a 
rhombohedron,  aa 
seen  in  the  twin 
crystal  of  calc- 
spar  (fig.  106), 
with     the 

ooR,  -  JR,  the  lower  half  being  the  same  form  with  the  upper,  but 
turned  round  180°.     In  fig.  107  the  rhombohedron  mRbaa  its  polar 


Fig.  1051 


Fig.  106.  Fig.  107. 

edgea  replaced  by  another  rhombohedron  -  JmR,  and  in  fig.  108 
its  lateral  edges  bevelled  by  the  scalencihearon  mRn.  A  mora 
complex  combination  of  five  forms 
is  represented  in  the  ciystal  of  calc- 
spar  fig.  109,  its  sign,  with  the 
letters  on  the  faces,  Deing  R''(i/), 


Fig.  108.  Fig.  109. 

R'()-\  R(P),  4R(.m),  ooR(c,.     Tetartohcdral  combinationa  are  aeea 
moat  distinctly  in  rock-crystal. 

rV.  Right  Prismatic  or  Rhombic  System. — This  syetem  Rigiit 
13  characterized  by  three  unequal  axes,  all  at  right  angles  prismaUe 
to  each  other.     Any  one  of  these  may  be  assumed  aa  the  system, 
chief  axis,  when  the  others  are  named  subordinate.     Tho 
plane  passing  through  the  secondary  axes,  or  the  base,  forms 
a  rhombus,  and  from  this  one  of  its  names  is  derived.     Aa 
priftmatic  forms   are   most  frequent  (the  prism  standing 
vertically  on  the  rhombic  base),  it  is  best  defined  as  tha 
right  prismatic.     This  .system  comprises  only  a  few  varie- 
ties of  forms  that  are  essentially  distinct,  and  its  relations 
are  consequently  very  simple, 


360 


Ml^'ERALOG'i: 


pyra-  There  tire  two  closed  forms.     (1)  The  rhombic  pyfamldsCfigs.  110, 

mills.        Ill),  bounded  by  eight  scalene  triangles,  whose  lateral  ijclges  lie  inone 


Fig.  112. 


Fig.  lU. 


Fig.  110. 
plane,  and  form  a  rhom- 
ous.  They  have  eight 
polar  edges  (four  acute 
and  four  more  obtuse' 
nnd  four  lateral  edges. 
The  angles  are  six  rhom- 
bic, the  m63t  acute  at 
the  extremities  of  the 
longest    axis.       (2)    The 

rhombic  sphenoids  (figs.  112,  113)  are  bounded  by  four  scalene 
triangles,  with  their  lateral  edges  not  in  one  plane,  and  are  hemi- 
hedrai  forms  of  the  rhombic  pyramid. 
They  are  of  very  infrequent  occurrence. 
The  open  forms,  agai  n,  are  rhombic  prisms 
bounded  by  four  planes  parallel  to  one 
of  the  axes,  which  is  indefinitely  ex- 
tended, and  may  be  longer  than  the 
lateral,  as  in  fig.  114,  or  shorter  as  in 
fig.  115,  Thoy  are  divided  into  uj^right 
(as  in  the  above  figs.)  and  horizontal 
prisms,  according  as  either  the  principal 
or  one  or  other  of  the  lateral  axes  is 
supposed  to  become  infinite.  For  the 
latter  form  the  name  doma  or  dome  has 
been  used ;  and  two  kinds,  the  macro- 
dome  (fig.  116)  and  the  brachydome  (fig. 
117),  have  been  distinguished. 
Pinacoida.  Rhombic  pinacoids  also  arise  when 
one  axis  becomes  =Oand  the  two  others 


Kphen- 


Pvisms, 


Fig.  113. 


!   I 


Domes. 


Fig.  115. 


indefinitely  extended ;  and  so  we 
have  macropinacoids  (fig.  118)  and 
brachy pinacoids  (fig.  119), — the  qualifying  term  thus  designat- 
ing tno  axis 'to  wliich  the  faces  of  the  dome  or  pinacoid  are 
parallel. 

In  deriving  these  forms  from  a  primary,  a  particular  rVombic  pyra- 
mid P  is  chosen,  and  its  dimensions  determined  either  from  the 


bracl^y- 
djagunal. 


•"•6  —"■"'_- 

rodiagonal  is 


Fig.  116.  Fig.  117. 

angular  measurement  of  two  of  its   edges,  or  by  the  linear  pro- 
portion of  its  axes  a:  b:  c,  the  greater  lateral  axis  b  being  assumed 
Oiiuai  to  1.     To  the  greater  lateral  axis  the  name 
givfu,     to    tlie    shorter    that    of 
Lrochydiagonal  ;     and     the     two 
princii>al     sections     are     in    like 
joanuor  named  macrodiagonal  and 
hr-K-hyliogonnl,   according  to  the 
axis    they    intersect.     The    some 
terniM  are  applied   throughoiU  all 
the  derived    torina.      They  conse- 
quontly  mark  only  the  position  of 
tno  faces  in    rt-sjwct    to  the  axes  fjg_  np 

of  the   fundamental   crystal   ""'' 


Pig.  119. 


of  tho   fundamental   crystal   and  '       ,        ,     .  ... 

frenuontly  of  necessity  l^-iC^ott  reference  to  tho  relative  magnitude 
of  tno  derived  axes.  A  ■       i  u 

By  multiplying  tho  principal  axis  by  any  rational  nnmbrr  m, 


greater  or  ioss  than  1,  a  scries  of  pyramids  arise,  whose  general  sign  Deri 
Ls  mP,  and  their  limits  are  the  prism  and  pinacoid  ;  the  whole  senes  fonffr 
befng  contained  in   this  formula,  OP  ...  .  7nP  .  .  .  .  P  .  .  . 
mP  ....  ooP, — which  is  the  fundamental  series,  tho  lateral  axes 
always  remaining  unchanged. 

From  each  member  a  new  series  may,  however,  be  developed  in 
two  directions,  by  increasing  one  or  other  of  the  latend  axes,  when 
the  macrodiagonal  is 
thus  multiplied  by  any 
number  n  greater  than 
1 ,  and  planes  drawn 
from  the  distance  n  to 
the  polar  edges,  a  new 
pyramid  is  produced, 
named  a  macropyramid, 
with  the  sign  m^n,  the 
mark  over  the  P  point- 
ing out  the  axis  en- 
larged. When  jt  — CO, 
a  macrodome  results, 
with  the  sign  wiPoo. 
If  the  shorter  axis  is 
muVtiplied,  then  brachy- 
pyramids  and  brachy- 
domes     are     produced^ 

with  the  signs  mr7i  and 
TJif  oo .  So  also  from  the 
prism  coP,  on  the  one 
side,  originate  numerous 
macroprisms  oopjt,  yitb 
the  limiting  macro- 
piiiacoid  ocpoo  ;  on  the 
other,  numerous  brachy 
prisms   ooPn,  with   the 

limit  form  oofco,  or  the  brachypinacoid.      In  figs.  120,  121  the 
two  domes  are  shown  in  their  relation  to  the  primitive  pyramid 


Fig.  121. 


Fig.  123. 


Fi«.  124. 


The  pyramids  seldom  occur  independent,  or  even  as  the  pre- 
dominant forma  in  a  combination;  sulphur,  however,  ia  an  ezcop* 
tion.  Prisms  or  pinacoids 
usuallygive  the  general  char- 
actor  to  tho  crystal,  which 
thou  appears  cither  in  a 
columnar  or  tabular  or  even 
rectangular  pyramidal  form. 
Tho  '  determination  of  the 
position  of  these  crystals,  as 
vertical  or  horizontal,  de- 
pends on  tho  choice  of  the 
chief  axis  of  the  fundamental 
form.  In  the  toj^az  crystal 
(6g.  12*2)  tho  brachypribm 
and  tho  pyramid  are  tlic 
predoroinnnt  elements,  asso- 
ciated with  the  prism,  it-*, 
sign      and      letters      being 

(xl»2(0.  P(o).  «P(irt.  Fig. 
123  of  Blilbito  is  another 
example,  the  macropin'acoid 
00  poo  or  J/  being  combinM 
.ith  th.  pyramid  r,r),  ,ho  ^.^  ^^ 

brncbvpinBcoid      a:Poo(71,  ■     c      .oj    f 

on.l  tho  boMl  rinncoid  or(;').      Another   inatance  is  fig.  124  of 
a  licrrito  crystal,  whoro  tho  brachyi.risin  «nd  pyranuJ  combine 


MINERALOG?^ 


aei 


fffththemacrodome,  of  odI'2,  P.tPw.  -  The  above  figures  are  rery 
common  forms  of  bar}'(ts,— figs.  125  and  126  being  both  composed 
of  the  pinacoid  OP,  a  brachydome,  and  a  macrodome,  with  sign 
)P(c),  ?ao  (/),  iPco  (d).  The  variation  in  aspect  arises  from  the  pre- 
dominance of  different  faces  ;  and  fig.  127  consists  of  the  macrodome 
vPflo,.  the  prism.  «>P(j),  and  the  pinacoid  OP. 

Dblique  V.'The  Oblique  Prismatic  System. — This  system  is  char- 
prismatic  acterUed  by.  thr^e  unequal  axes,  two  of  which  intersect 
system,  -j^ch  other  at  an  oblique  angle,  and  are  cut  by  the  third  at 
right  angles.ftOne  of  the  oblique  axes  is  chosen  as  the 
chief  axis,  and  the  other  axes  are  then  distinguished  as  the 
orthodiagonal  (right-angled)  and  <:linodragonal  (oblique- 
angled).  \^The  same  terms  are  applied  to  the  chief  sections, 
and  the  name  of  the  system  refers  to  the  fact  that  these 
two  planes  form  with  the  base  two  right  angles  and  one 
oblique  angle  C. 

^  The  fortPLof  this  system  approach  very  near'to  those  of  the  right 
prismatic  series,  but  the  inclination  of  the  axis,  even  when  almost 
h  Bridal        &  right  angle,  gives  them  a  peculiar  character,  by  which  they  are 
■  character,  ahrays  readily  distinguished.  :  Each   pyramid  thus  separates  into 

tw-  altogether  independent  forms  or  hemipyramida. 
I  Prisms,         Three  varieties  cf  prism  also  occur — vertical,  inclined,  andnori- 
zontal — with  faces  parr.Uel  to  the  chief  axis,  the  clinodiac;onal,  or  the 
orthodiagonal.      The  horiiontaV 
prisms,  like  the  pyramids,  sepa- 
rate into  two  independent  partial 
forms'namedhemiprisnisorhemi- 
domes.      The    inclined    prisms 
are  often  designated  clinodomee, 
the  tcrm_  prism  being  restricted 
to  the  vertical   forms.      Ortho- 
pinacoids     and     clinopinacoids 
are    also     distinguished,     from 
their    position    in     relation    to 
the  aXea.  ,  The  monoclinic  pyra- 
mids (fig.  128)   are  bounded  by 
eight  scalene   triangles   of  two 
kinds,  four  and  four  only  being 
similar.*  Their  lateral  edges  lie 
all  in  one  plane,  and  the  similar 
triangles  are  placed  in  pairs  on 
the  clinodiagonal  polar  cti^es.  -^ 
•f  snd-         The  two  pairs  in  the  acute  angle' between  the  orthodiagosal  and 
pyramids,  basal  section9''are  designated  the  positive  hemipyramid,  whilst  the 
two  pairs  in  the  obtuse  angles  of  the  same  sections  form  together. 
the  negative hcmip}Tamid.     But,  astheaehemipyramids  are  'wholly 
independent  of  each   otlier,  they  are   rarely .  observed   combined, 
llofe  frequentlj'  each  occurs   alone,  and  then  forms  a  prism-like 
'figure,  with  faces  parallel  to  the  polar  edges,  and  open  at  theextrenii-^  ; 
ties,*-  Hence,  like  all  prisms,  they  can  only  appi 


CJ. ^c4 


Fig.  128. 


with  other  foriQt.^  The  vertical  iirisma  are  bounded  by  four  equal 
faces  parallel  to  the  principal  axis,  and  the  cross  section  is  a  rhombus ; 
the  cUnodomes  have  a  similar* form  «nd  section;  whilst  the  hori- 
zontal prisms  or.  domes  have  unequal -faces,  and  their  section  is  a 
rhomboid.    ^ 

I' The  mode~of  derivation  of  these  forms  closely  resembles  that  of 
the  rh<;imbic  series.  A  complete  double  pyramid  is  assumed  as  tie" 
fundamental  fbnn,  and  designated  ±P,  in  order  to  express  the  two 
-portions  ol  which  it  consists.  Its  dimensions  are  given  when  the 
proportion  of  its  zxes  a:b:c  and  the  angular  inclination  of  the 
oblique  axes  C,  wliibh  is  also  the  inclination  of  the  orthodiagonal 
section  to  the  base,  are  known. 

•_The  fundamental  series  of  forms  is  OP  ....  ±mP  .  .  .  .  iP 
'.  .  .*.±jnP.  ...  00  P,  from  each  of  whoso  members,  by  changing 
the  dimensicxns  of  the  other  axes,  now  forms  may  be  again  derived. 
Thus  from  ±jnP,  by  niuUiplying^tho  orthodiagonal  by  any  number 
ti,  a  series  of  orthtfpyramids  ±mP°ii  is  prpductd,  with  the  ortho. 
domes  mP'oo  as  limiting  forms.  The  clinodiagonal  produces  a 
similar  series  of  clinopyramids  dbmP'H,  with  the  limiting  clinodome 
WiP'oo  always  completely  formed,  and  therefore  without  the  signs 
k:  attacjied.  From  ooP  arise  orthoprisms  ocP'n  and  the  ortho- 
pioacoid  t»P'«o.  and  clinoprisms  ocP'ii  and  the  clinopinaeoid 
>  or  e  attached  to  the  P  indicates  til 


Fig.  m  represents  a  very  common  form  of  gypsum  crystals, 
OOP  <o,  (Py,  ooP(/),  P(J).  Tie  „,„3t  common  form  of  augiteis  repi^- 
sented  m  fig.  130,  with  the  sign  ooP(i/),  ooP'oo(r),  ooP'»(;),P(,). 


Fig-  131.  ug.  132. 

Fig.  131  is  a  crystal  of  common  felspar  or  orthocbse,  composeaoftht 
clinopinacoid  <x>Va>{M),  the  priajii;ooP(r),  the  basal  pinacoid 
0?{P),  and  the  h«nidoines  2P*oo'(y);to  which,  in  fig.  132 -of  tin 
same  mineral,  the  hemipyramid  P(o)  and  the  clinodome  2P.'oo  (ii)  are 


VI.  Anorthic  iOrr  Triclinic  System. — Tlii3'is-<  the  "least  Anorthin 
regular  system,  and  departs  the  most  widely,  indeed  almost  system, 
absolutely,  from  symmetry  of .  form. «^  The  axes  are  all 
unequal,  and  inclined  at  anglfcs  none  of  which  are  right 
angles, — so  that,  to  determine  any  ci^stal,  or  series  of  forms, 
the  proportion  of  the  axes  a  :  b  :  c,  afid  also  their  angles, 
or  those  of  the  inclinatioa  of  the  chief  sections,  must,  be 
known.  As  in  the  previous  systems,  one  axis  is  choseii  as 
the  principal  axis,  and  the  two  others  distinguished  as  the 

.. macrodiagonal  and  btacbydiagonal  axes.     In  consequence 

in  combination  "*  of  the  oblique  position  of  the  primcipal  sections,  thi?  system 
consists  entirely  of  partial  forms  wholly  independent  of 
each  other,  and  each  composed  only  of  two  parallel  faces. 
The  complete  pyramid'is  thus 'broken  up  into  four  distinct 
quarter-pyramids,  and  the  prism  into  two  hemiprisms. 
Each  of  these  partial  forms  is.  thus  nothing  more  than  a, 
pair  of  parallel  planes,  and  the  various  forms  consequently 
mere,  individual  faces.  This-  circumstande  rendei-s  many 
triclinic  crystals  very  unsymmetrical  in  appearance. 

Triclinic  pyramids  tfig.  133)  are  bounded  by  eight  triangles  trbosf 
lateral  edges. lie  in  one  plane.  They 
are  equal  and  parallel  two  and  two 
to  each  other,  each  pair'  forming,  aa 
just  stated,  a  tetartopyramid  or  open 
form,  only  limited  by  combination 
with  other  fonus,  or,  as  'we  may  sup- 
pose, by  the  chief  sections.  The  prisms 
are  again  either  vertical  or  inclined ; 
the  latter  are  named  domes,  and  their 
section  is  always  rhomboidal.  In  deriv- 
ing the  forms,  the  fundamental  jiyramid 
is  placed  upright  with  its  brachydiagonal 
to   the  spectator,  and  the  partial 


Fis.133. 


P*ooT*'In  these  signs  the  _  _      __,  _   , 

the  orthodiagon.ll  (o)  or  clinodiagonal  (c)  axis  has  been  multiplied., j  forms  designafed,  the'two  upper'  by  'P 
Formerly  the  latter  forms  were  enclosed  in  brackets,  thus  (mPoo)j  and  P'.  the  two  lowel-  by  ,P  and.P,,  as 
»=mPflo.„.^,  .,,  1  in  the  figure-.     The  further  derivation 

•»  Tlic  combinations  of  this  system  may  be  easily  understood  from  now  follows  as  in  the  right  prismatic ^sysjetn;  vflth  thejn<rd!£ca 
their  rcsemhlanco  to  those  of  the  right  iirismatic.  the  chief  difficulty  .    tions  already  mentioned.  _^ 

being  in  ^he  occurrence  oi  parlial  forms,,  which,  however,  closely  :  Some  combinations  of  this'sj'stem,"  as  the  series^'exhibited'ljy 
resemble,  the  hcmilicdral  forms  of  the  previous  systems.fA  f«w^)  most  of  the  felspars,  approach  very  near  to  the  oblique  prismatic 
examples  only  need  therefoi-c  be  given..*^  ^ystem ;  whilst  other*,  as  cyauose  and  axinite,  show  great  income 


862 


MINERALOGY 


pleteness  and  want  of  symmetry.  In  the  latter  case  the  determina- 
tion of  the  forms  is  often  difficult.  In  the  albite  crystal  (figs. 
134,  185)  P  is  the  basal  pinacoid  OP  ;  M  the  brachydiagonal 
pinacoid  ooPoo  ;  s  the  upper  right  pyramid  P';  I  the  right  hemi- 
priBm  ooP' ;  T  the  left  hemiprism  oo'P ;  and  x  the  hemidome  'P'qo  . 
Figa.  136  and  137  are  crystals  of  axinite,  the  former  from  Dauphin^, 


Fig.  136. 


Fig.  136 


Fig.  137. 


Oonio* 

hieters. 


the  latter  from  Cornwall,  of  whose  laces  the  following  ia  the  de- 
velopment : — r  the  macropinacoid  ooPoo  ;  P  the  left  hemiprism 
t  ooT;  «the  left  upper  quarter-pyramid  T;  I  the  left  upper  quarter- 
pyramid  2'P;  « the  Jeft  upper  partial  form  of  the  macropyramid 
3'P3 ;  and  x  the  hemidome  2'P'oo . 

The  Measurement  of  the  Angles  of  Crystals. 
^  The  permanence  of  the  angular  dimensions  of  crystals 
shows  the  importance  of  some  accurate  method  of  measur- 
ing their  angles, — that  is,  the  inclination  of  two  faces  to 
each  other.  Instruments  for  this  purpose  are  called  gonio- 
meters. 


Two  have  been  specially  usea  for  this  purpose — the  common  or 
contact  goniometer,  invented  by  Caringeau,  and  the  reflecting 
goniometer  of  Wollaston.  The  fortner  is  simply  two  brass  rulers 
turning  on  a  common  centre,  between  which  the  crystal  is  so  placed 
that  its  faces  coincide  with  the  edges  o^  the  iiilers,  and  the  angle 
ia  then  measured  on  a  graduated  arc.  This  instrument  is  suffici- 
ently accurate  for  many  purposes  and  for  large  crystals,  but  for 
precise  determination  is  far  inferior  to  the  reflecting  goniometer. 
This  requires  smooth  and  even  faces,  but  these  may  be  very  small, 
even  the  hundredth  of  an  inch  ;  and,  as  small  crystals  are  generally 
the  most  perfect,  far  greater  accuracy  can  be  attained. 

The  reflecting  goniometer  is  represented  in  fig.  138.  It  con- 
sists essentially  of  a  graduated  circle  mvi,  divided  on  its  edge 
into  twice  180%  or  more  frequently  into  half-degrees,  the  minutes 
I  being  read  off  by  the  vernier  hk.  This  circle  turns  on  an  axis 
connected  with  tt^  so  that  by  turning  this  the  circle  is  moved 
round,  but  it  is  stopped  at  180",  when  moving  in  one  direction,  by 
a  spring  at  k.  The  other  part  of  the  instrument  is  intended  to  attach 
and  adjust  the  crystal  to  be  measured.  The  first  axis  of  vnn  is 
hollow,  and  a  second  axis,  aa,  passes  through  it  from  S5,  so  that 
this  and  all  the  connected  parts  from  b  to  /  can  bo  turned  without 
moving  the  circle  inm.  The  axis  d  passes  through  a  hole  in  be,  so 
that  it  can  turn  the  arm  de  into  any  required  position ;  /  is  a 
similar  axis  turning  the  arm  og,  and  jtq  a.  fourth  axis,  in  like 
manner  movable  in  g,  and  with  a  small  knob  at  g,  to  which  the 
crystal  to  be  measured  is  attached. 

When  about  to  be  used,  the  instrument  should  be  placed  on  a  tabic, 
with  its  base  horizontal  (which  is  readily  done  by  the  screws  in  it), 
and  opposite  to  a  window  at  about  12  or  15  feet  distance,  so  that 
its  axis  shall  be  parallel  to  the  horizontal  bars  of  the  window. 
One  of  the  upper  bars  of  the  window,  and  also  the  lower  bar,  or, 
instead  of  the  latter,  a  white  line  on  the  floor  or  table  parallel  to 
the  window,  should  then  be  chosen,  in  order  to  adjust  the  crystal. 
The  observer  places  himself  behind  the  instrument  with  the  side  a 
at  bis  right  hand.  The  crystal  is  then  attached  to  y  by  a  piece 
Af  wax,  with  the   two  faces   to   bu   measured   upwards,  and  the 


edge  of  union  of  the  faces,  including  the  angle  to  uo  measured,  ac 
neariy  as  possible  in  the  lino  of  aa.  The  eye  being  brought  near 
to  the  first  face  of  the  crystal,  the  axes  aa  and  p  are  turned  till  the 
image  of  the  window  ia  seen  reflected  in  the  face  with  the  horizon- 
tal  and  vertical  bars  in  their  position.  The  axis  d  ia  then  turned 
through  a  considerable  angle 
(say  60°),  and  the  image  of 
the  window  again  sought  and 
brought  iuto  its  proper  place 
by  turning  the  axis/,  without 
moving;?.  When  this  is  dom 
that  face  is  brought  into  ita 
true  position,  normal  to  d,  so 
that  no  motion  of  d  can  dis- 
arrange it.  Hence  the  image 
of  the  window  may  now  be 
souglit  in  the  second  face,  and 
brought  into  its  true  position, 
with  the  horizontal  bars  seen 
horizontal,  by  moving  the 
axes  d  and  a.  When  this  is 
done  the  crystal  is  properly  -^ 
"adjusted."  The  angle  is 
measured  in  the  following 
manner.  First  bring  the  zero 
of  the  circle  and  vernier  to 
coincide,  and  then  turn  the 
inner  axis  a  or  ss,  and  move 
the  eye  till  the  imago  of  the 
upper  bar  of  the  window  re- 
flected from  the  more  distant 
face  of  the  crystal  coincides 
with  the  lower  bsr  or  hori- 
zqntal  line  seen  directly. 
Keeping  the  eye  in  its  place, 
turn  the  other  axis  U  till  the 
reflected  image  of  the  upper 

bar  in  the  other  face  in  like  „.     ,„„ 

manner    coincides    with    the  ^^' 

lower  line ;  the  angle  of  the  two  faces  is  then  read  off  on  the 
divided  circle.  As  the  angle  measured  is  not  directly  that  of  the 
faces  but  of  the  rays  of  light  reflected  from  them,  or  the  differ- 
ence Iwtween  the  angle  wanted  and  180",  the  circle  has  the  degrees 
numbered  iu  the  reverse  direction,  so  as  to  give  the  angle  without 
the  trouble  of  subtracting  the  one  from  the  other. 

The  apparatus  figured  is  for  adjusting  the  crystal,  and  is  an  im- 
provement suggested  by  Nauraann.  In  the  original  instrument  the 
axis  fo  was  made  to  push  in  or  out  in  a  sheath,  and  had  a  small 
brass  plate,  bent  at  right  angles,  inserted  in  a  cleft  at  o,  to  which 
the  crystal  was  attached.  The  crj-sUl  was  adjusted  as  formerly  by 
moving  the  plate,  or  the  axis  fo,  and  by  slight  motion  of  the  arm 
de,  which  should  be  at  right  angles  nearly  to  be  when  used.  A  verr 
marked  improvement  is  to  have  a  small  mirror  fix'ed  on  the  stand 
below  the  crystal,  with  its  face  parallel  to  the  axis  oa,  and  inclined 
at  45°  to  the  window,  when  the  lower  line  can  be  dispensed  with, 
and  the  instrument  used  for  various  other  purposes  of  angular 
measurement.  Many  more  perfect  instruments  have  been  intro- 
duced for  the  purpose  of  insuring  greater  accuracy  ;  but  the  simple 
instrument  is  sufficient  for  all  purposes  of  determinative  mineralog>', 
and  the  error  from  the  instrument  will,  in  most  casc§,  be  less  than 
the  actual  variations  in  the  angles  of  the  crj-stals. 

Departure  from  Geomdric  Simplicity  and  Loss  of 
Regularity  in  Crystals. 

Such  departures  may  be  regulated  by  law,  or  may  result 
from  an  undue  operation  of  the  force  of  accretion  in  certain 
directions. 

1 .  Regular  Departures  from  Simplioiiy. — There  are  three 
varieties  of  this  : — parallel  groupings,  tmn  forms,  hemitrope 
forms. 

Parallel  Grojiptngs. — A  plurality  of  individuals  are  here  Cr3fKtal 
arranged  either  so  that  a  line  which  joins   their  centres  poupt. 
becomes  a  prolongation  of  one  or  other  of  their  cry:tallo- 
graphic  axes,  or  bo  that  their  axes  are  parallel. 

Fig.  20  shows  the  first,  where  cohesion  sufficient  for  stability 
requires  that  the  minute  octahedra  must  mutunlly  penetrate  some- 
what into  each  other.  Fig.  139  shows  the  same  in  boryte.  If  wa 
suppose  octahedra  united,  the  upper  loft-hand  face  of  the  one 
with  the  lower  right-hand  face  of  the  other,  there  would  be 
parallelism  of  their  axes.  Kc-entering  angles  would,  in  such 
cases,  prove  a  plurality  of  individuals,  but  if  a  number  of  cubes 
were  superimposed  in  nimilor  position,  no  such  angles  would  occur, 
an  elongated  square  prism  resulting;  and  such  arrange Jicnta,  if 


MIEEEAIOG   Y 


363 


repeated,  are  linear,  or,  with  diminishing  size  in  the  individaal, 
acicular. 


Fig.  139.  Fig.  140. 

Dipfez  ^loins  and  Hemitropes. — Though  closely  related,  formed 
•rystals.  tmder  the  operation  of  very  similar  laws,  and  to  a  certain 
extent  passing  into  one  another,  these  are  not  the  same. 
In  the  first  case  a  plurality  of  individuals  must  be  present ; 
in  the  second  this  is  not  necessary.  In  fig.  140  two 
indi\-iduals  evidently  intersect  one  another;  in  figs.  141, 
142  one  individual  may  be  supposed  to  have  been  bisected 
in  ~a  certain  direction,  and  the  two  halves  reattached,  but 
!in  a  position  differing  in  some  definite  manner  from  their 
(jelative  position  before  the  separation. 


Fig.  141.  Fig.  142. 

TarieCieB  »  There  are  four  varieties  of  true  twins:  those  of  apposition,  of 
3f  (^ini.  intersection,  of  partial  or  completed  interpcnetration,  and  of  in- 
corporation. 

The  first  is  exemplified  by  spinel,  as  in  fig.  143  ;  the  second  by 


If, 

1 

» 

/•••  \ 

M 

1              ^ 

K                     '     '  ' 

\  •     / 

'  N.       ■-  HI 

[J 

\  - /- 

i\    , 

-\-> 

j 

Fig.  144.- 


Fig.  145.  Fit;.  UG. 

■tnoTolite,  as  in  ft;;.  144;  tb«  third  by  catcitc,  ns  lu  fig.  146,  and 
\)j  bleudc,  a»  iu  fig.  145,  where  tho  two  inJividuah  of  tig.  143  may 


be  supposed  to  have  been  forced  vertically  into  one  another ;  and^ 
the  last  by  quartz,  as  in  fig.  147. 

The  foUowing  are  the  laws  of  unfon  of  twins.     1.  Tlie  face  of  Laws  ot 
union  of  twins,  termed  the  "face  of  composition,"  must  be  either  twinning.' 
a  plane  which  does  occur  in  the  mineral  twinned,  or  which  can 
occur  in  accordance  with  the  fifth  law  of  symmetry.     A  face  of 


Fig.  147.  Fig.  148. 

union  in  twins  is  also  a  face  of  union  in  hemitropes  of  the  same- 
minerah  2.  From  the  above  it  results  that  the  axes  of  the  united 
crystals  are  either  parallel  {fig.  148)  or  inclined  (fig.  149).  .The 
former  generally  occur  among 
hemihedric  forms ;  and  the  two 
crystals  are  combined  in  the  exact 
position  in  which  they  would  be 
derived  from  or  would  reproduce 
the  primary  holohedral  form.  The 
class  with  oblique  axes  occur  both 
in  holohedric  and  in  hemihedric 
forms;  and  the  two  individuals  are 
then  placed  in  perfect  symmetry,  in  ^ 
accordance  with  law  1. 

Twins  are  generally  recognized 
by  having  r«-entcring  angles  (figa. 
150,  151);  but  sometimes  tho 
crossed  faces  coincide  in  one  plane, 
when  the  combination  appears  as  a 
single  individual  {figs.  152,  153). 
The  line  of  union  may  then  be  im- 
perceptible, or  it  may  be  disclosed  by  the  intersection  of  two  sets  aj 
striie  (figs.  154, 155),  or  by  some  physical  diversity  in  the  char; 
acters  of  the  two  faces. 

The  formation  of  twin  crystals  may  be  again,  or  many  times; 
repeated, — forming  groups  of  three,  fonr,  twenty-four,  or  more. 
"Wlien  the  faces  of  union  are  parallel  to  each  other,  the  crystals  fonr 


Fig.  149. 


Fig.  150.  ^  Fig.  151. 

rows  of  mueterminate  extent..  "When  they  are  not  parallel,  they 
may  return  into  each  other  in  circles,  as  in  rutile;  or  form  bouquet 
or  rosette  groups,  as  in  chrysoberyl  (fig.  1561  ;  or  stellate  croups,  as 
in  calcite  (fig.  157)  and  in  cerussite  (figs.  158,  159). 


Fig.  152.  x-ig.  153. 

When  the  crystals  .iveof  different  size,  greater  complexity  results; 
but  a  number  of  minute  crystals  are  frequently  arranged  upon  a 
larger  at  those  points  where  the  angles  of  a  single  large  crystal 
would  protrude.  Occasionally  a  aimple  foxm  ia  twinned  with  a 
more  complex  one,  as  in  chabaaite  [fig.  160).' 


364 


MINERALOGY 


tropes. 


Hemitrope  crjrstals  we  may  imagine  as  haviag  been  formed  from 
fl  aiDRle  crystal,  which  has  been  cat  into  two  halves  in  a  particular 
direction,  and  ono  half  turned  round  180°,  or  90*,  or  60°.  The 
line  about  which  the  revolution  is  supposed  to  take  place  is  called 
the  "axis  of  revolution."  From  the  amount  of  turn  usually  being 
180*,  Haiiy  gave  the  name  hemitrope.    The  position  of  the  two 


Fig.  157.  Fig.  156. 

halves  in  this  case  resembles  that  of  an  object  and  its  ima^  in  a 
mirror,  whose  surface  then  would  represent  the  plane  of  reunion, 
tawi  J   ,   The  following  are  the  laws  of  hemitropes.     The  axis  of  revolution, 
leml-        ^  always  a  possible  crystalloOTaphic  line,— either  an  axis,  a  line 
tropism.   parallel  to  an  axis,  or  a  normal  to  a  possible  crystalline  plane.  The 
plane  normal  to  the  axis  of  revolution  is  called  the 
twin  plane  ;  it  is  either  an  occurring  or  a  possible 
plane,  and  usually  one  of  the  more  frequently  re- 
curring planes.     Both  the  axis  and  the  twin  plane 


Fig'  158.  Fig.  169. 

bear  the  same  relation  to  both  halves  of  the  crystal  in  their  re- 
versed positiqus :   consequently  the  parts  of  hemitrope  crystals  are 

eymmetrical  witn  reference  to  the  twin  plane  (except  in  triclinic 

forms  and  some  hemihodral  crystals).  '  The  face  of  composition 

veiy      frequently     coincides 

with  the  twin  plane  ;  when 

not    minciding,     the     twin 

plane  and  the  face  of  cora- 

posilion  are  generally  at  right 

angles  to   each  other,  so  that 

the      compubition      face      ia 

paiMllnl   to   the  axis   of  re- 
volution.    But    in    twins  of 

incoj'poration  the  surfaces  of 

composition    have    exercised 

a  disturbing  influence  on  one 

another,  so  that  the  surface 

of  uuion  is  exceedingly  ir- 

reguhir.     Still  in  these  cases 

the  axis  and  the  plane  of 

twinning    retain    a    definite  Fig.  160. 

positioD ;  but  the  face  of  composition,  being  no  longer  defined,  ia 

useless  as  a  determinant. 
Modes  of     There  are  three  modes  in  which  the  compo.  ition  may  take  place 
»mion.       in  hemitropes.     These  may  be  explained  ly  dividing  a  crystal  into 

halves,  witn  the  plane  of  division  vertical,  LJid  then  turning  one  of 

the  halves  round. 


Fig.  161. 


Fig.  162. 


1.  One  of  the  halves  may  be  inverted,  as  if  by  revolution  through 
180°  on  a  horizontal  axis  al  right  angles  to  the  platte  of  section,  and 

'the  two  faces  again  united  "by  the  surfaces  which  were  separated. 
Here  the  surfaces  of  union  are  the  original  ones  but  the  base  of 
one  of  the  halves   has -taken  the 
place  of  its  summit.     Examples  : 
selenite  (fig.  161)  and  orthoclase. 

2.  One  of  the  halves  may  be 
turned  round  through  ISO',  as  if 
by  revolution  on  a  horizoTUal  axis', 
paralUl  to  the  plane  of  section,  and 
the  face  opposite  and  parallel  to 
that  of  the  plane  of  section — an 
originally  external  face— may  then 
be  applied  to  the  other  half.  Here, 
not  only  has  the  base  of  one-half 
become  a  summit,  but  a  lateral 
and  external  face  of  the  original 
crystal  has  been  thrust  to  its 
centre  so  as  to  become  a  face  of 
internal  union.    Example:  labradorite  (fig.  162). 

3.  One  of  the  halves  may  be  turned  round  through  180*,  as  if  by 
revolution  on  a  vertical  axis,  parallel  to  the  plane  of  section,  the 
external  face  opposite  and  parallel  to  the  plane  of  section  becomin^:r 
a  face  of  union.  Here,  however,  both  the  original  summits  retain 
their  position  "as  summits.     Example:  orthoclase. 

The  first  'of  these  modes  of  composition  may  occur  in  each  of  the 
systems,  but  it  is  not  always  apparent  until  disclosed  by  optical 
properties.     The  second  is  rare,  and  the  third  still  more  so. 

In  hemitropo  crystals  (less  frequently  in  true  twins)  "the 
halves  of  the  crystal  are  frequently  reduced  in  thickness  in  the 
direction  of  the  ordinary  twin  axis  ;  and  when  there  is  a  parallel 
repetifibn  of  hemitropes,  which  frequently  occurs,  they  are  often 
reduced  to  very  thin  plates,  not  the  thiclmess  of  paper,  giving  to 
the  surface  of  the  aggregate  a  striated  structure  ana  appearance. 

In  the  cubic  system  the  faces  of  composition,  both  of  twinning  Twits  oi 
and  of  hemitropic  revolution,  are  those  of  the  cube,  the  dodeil^hed-  cubic 
ron,  and  the  octahedron.  systein. 

In  the  first  case  we  have  the  axes  of  the  two  crystals  necessarily 
in  some  cases  parallel,  or,  more  correctly,  falling  into  one  ;  but,  as 
in  this  system  all  the  axes  are  alike,  or  all  the  cubic  faces  similar, 
composition  may  occur  along  or  parallel  to  all  alike,  and  double  or- 
triple  twins  occur.  We  have  examples  in  twins  of  the  pentagonal 
dodecahedron  (fig.  163)  made  up  by  the  interpenetraticm  ofa  right 


Fi^.  lea  Fig.  164. 

and  a  left  ( +  and  - ),  and  of  the  tetrahedron,  as  seen  in  pyrite 
and  fahlerz  respectively.  In  virtue  of  the  position  required  by  law  2,- 
it  will  be  seen  that  the  position  of  the  solid  which  is  common  to 
both  intersecting  crystals  is"  in  the  twin  of  pyrite  the  four-faced 
cube,  which  is  the  holohedral  form  of  the  pentagonal  dodecahedron, 
while  in  the  case  of  the  fahlerz  twin  (fig.  164),  the  common  por- 
tion is  an  octahedron,  the  holohedral  form  of  the  tetrahedron.  "^ 


Fig.  165.  Fig.  166. 

Twinning  on  an  twtahedral  face  is  seen  in  the" apposition  twin  of 
spinel  (fig.  143),  the  tetrahedral  twin  of  blende  (fig.  165),  the  inter- 
penetrative octahedral  twin  of  blende  seen  in  fig.  166,  and  the  inter- 
secting cubes  of  lluor  (fig.  167). 

This  Ib  qIbo  the  usual  twin  face  for  hemitropes  of  the  cubio  systeip. 


MINERALOGY 


365 


It  ifiieit  in  fig.  168  of  blende,  where  the  two  parts  of  the  rhombic 
dodecahedron  are  united  by  it    Magnetite,  apinel,  and  diamond 


Tetra- 
gonal 

twills. 


Fig.  167.  ^'S-  1^8- 

frequently  occur  in  octahedral  hemitropes  o!  tho  same  composition 

This  is  also  the  face  of  composition  for  tetartohedral  hemitropes. 
Fig.  170  is  that  of  the  diamond.    Here  six  o£  the  faces  of  the  six- 


Pig.  169.  Fig.  170. 

faced  octahedron,  with  six  faces  diagonally  opposite,  form  a  low 
double  six-sided  pyramid  (a  portion  of  an  octahedral  face  truncating 
each)  through  an  180°  revolution  of  one  set  of  these.  Garnet  some- 
times shows  both  twins  and  hemitropes  of  the  dodecahedron,  of 
dodecahedral  composition. 

In  the  Utragcmal  sysiem^  twin  crystals  are  very  uncommon,  but 
hemitropes  frequent.  With  parallel  axes  they  very  seldom  occur, 
but  are  seen  in  chalcopyrite.  "When  the  axes  are  inclined,  the 
plane  of  union  is  usually  one  of  the  faces  of  the  primary  pyramid ; 
and,  as  these  faces  are  all  similar,  composition  may  take  place 
dmnltaneously  parallel  to  all.  Very  complicated  forms  hence  result, 
as  seen  in  chalcopyrite  and  in  cassiterite  Cfig.  nil- 


twins  are  generally  formed  by  the  interpenetration  of  two  rhombo- 
hedrons,  a  +  and  a  - ,  thB  vertical  axis  being  the  axis  of  composi. 
Idon;  as  in  chabaaite  (fig.  176),  cinnabar,  levyne,  calcitc,  &c.  Some 
times  six  or  more  crystals,  united  parallel  to  the  prismatic  olanes. 


Fig.  171  Fig-  172- 

In  cassiterite  the  plane  of  union  is  frequently  one  of  the  faces  o{ 

the  pyramid  Poo ,  sometimes  one  of  those  faces  that  replace  the 

polar  edges  of  P  (figs.  172  1^).    From  the  bend  the  latter  form 

is  termed  genicolated. 


Bexa- 

(oul 
twins. 


Fig.  17S.  Fig.  174. 

Hausmannite  occurs  in  hemitropea  of  the  primary  P ;  and  on  tho 
|)olar  edges  of  this  other  twins  are  symmetrically  repeated,  a  central 
individual  appearing  like  a  support  to  the  others  (figs.  174,  175). 

In  the  hexagonal  system  twins  are  very  common  among  the 
rhombohedral  (the  hemihedral)  and  the  tetartohedral  forms;  while 
hemitTDpes  prevail  among  the  hexagonal  or  holobedral  forms.    The 


Fig,  175.  Fig.  176. 

form  rosettes;  as  in  cbabasite  from  Giant's  Causeway.  The  almost 
endless  stellate  forms  of  crystals  of  snow  are  built  up  in  this  manner. 
Many  of  the  most  beautiful  combinations  to  be  seen  among  crystals 
result  from  thb  mode  of  arrangement. 

Parallel  groupings  of  hexagonal  prisms  also  occur,  as  in  apatite 

Rock  crystal,  in  consequence  of  the  tetartohedral  character  of  its 
crystallization,  exhibits  twins  in  which  the  double  hexagonal 
pyramid  P  may  be  said  to  be  separated 
into  two  rhombohedrons  P  and  r;  these, 
though  geometrically  similar,  are  physi- 


Fig.  177.  Fig.  178. 

cally  distinct.  In  fig.  178  the  two  individuals  have  not  entirely  in- 
terpenetrated, and  might  be  regarded  as  simply  grown  together 
witn  parallel  axes;  but  in  fig.  147  there  is  so  complete  an  inter- 
penetration that  the  composite  character  of  the  crystal  is  only  evi- 
denced through  a  difference  in  the  character  of  the  surfaces  of  the 
two  halves,  which  are  most  irregularly  disposed. 

The  hemitropes  of  this  system  often  form  regular  crystals,  wien 
the  two  halves  have  been  united  by  a  plane  parallel  to  the  base,  so 
as  to  appear  like  a  simple  crystal, 
as  in  fig.  179.  Here  each  end 
shows  the  forms  ooP,  -  JR,  but 
the  terminal  faces  appear  in 
parallel  instead  of  alternate  posi- 
tion. Something  of  the  same  is 
seen  in  fig.  180,  a  hemitrope 
scalenohedron  from  Derbyshire. 
Hemitropes  with  the  face  d  the 
primitive  rhombohedron  a;  the 
lace  of  composition  are  also  '-ora- 
mon ;  and  they  are  somriimes 
joined  by  a  face  of  -  JR,  tb  ■  two 
axes  forming  an  angle  of  12/  34'. 
Occasionally  a  third  individual 
is  interposed  in  a  lamellar  f>irra, 
as  in  fig.  181,  where  the  faces 
of  the  two  outer  portions  become 
parallel.  This  is  found  in  some 
pieces  of  Iceland  spar.  VvTien 
the  crystals  unite  in  a  faoe  of 
the  primary  rhombohedron,  they 
form  an  angle  of  89°  8';  hemiti-jpes 
on  this  law  are  easily  recognised 
by  their  differing  so  little  from  a 
right  angle  in  the  re-entering 
bend  (figs.  182,  183). 

The  faces  which  in  this  species 
act  as  faces  of   composition  are 


Fig.  181. 


exceedingly  numerous  ;.  other  examples  are  figs.  142, 146,  148,  and 
149. 

In  the  right  prismatic  system  twin  crystals  with  parallel  axes  are  lOgtt 
rare,  but  with  oblique  axes  common,  the  faces  of  union  being  one  of  [-/ismatic 
the  faces  of  the  prism  ooP.    Twins  of  this  kind  occur  freauently  m  twins. 


868 


M.I  N  E  R  A  L  0  G  Y 


Of  Deta- 
iled ron. 


or  do- 
deca- 
hedron. 


rry»^Hl  *^r  ;ieedle,  da  happens  in  red  copper  and/'pyritea.     Cry&Uls 
of  acicular  pyrites  occur  at  the  Newton-Stewart  lead-mine. 

An  octahedron  flattened  parallel  to  two  of  its  faces  is  reduced  to 
ft  tabular  crystal  (fig.  210).  If  lengthened  iu  the  same  direction, 
it  takes  the  form 
in  fig.  211 ;  or  if 
it  is  still  further 
lengthened,  to  the 
obliteration  of 
two  opposite  octa- 
hediJil  faces,  it 
becomes  an  acute 
rhombohedron 
(same  figure). 

Whea  an  octa- 
hedron is  extend- 
ed iu  the  direction 
of  a  line  between 
two  opposite 

edges,  it  has  the 
general  fovm  of 
a  rectangular 
octahedron  ;  and 
still  further  ex- 
tended, as  in  fig. 
212,  it  is  changed 
to  a  rlionibio 
prism  with  dihe- 
dral summits. 
The  figure  ropre- 
sents  this  prism  lying  on  its  acute  edge  (spinel,  nuor,  magnetite). 

Tlie  dodecahedron  wlien  lengthened  in  the  direction  of  the  up- 
right axis  becomes  a  S'luarc  prism  with  pyramidal  summits  (fig. 
213);  and  when  shortened  along  the  same  axis  it  is  reduced  to  a 
square  octahedron  with  truncated  basal  angles  (fig.  214).      Both 


Fig.  213.  Fig.  214.  Fig.  215. 

these  forms  are  modifications  of  ^lic  square  prism;  the  first  mode 
of  tlibtorti'ia  is  common  in  garnrt,  i-emlering  it  liable  to  be  con- 
sidered zircon  ;  the  second  is  seen  in  aplome,  wlun  it  might  be  taken 


FiR.  216.  Fig.  217. 

for  stannite.  When  the  first  of  these  forms  is  flattened,  as  in  fig.  215 

it  rcycmbles  a  form  of  stilbite. 

"Wlicn   a  dodecahedron   again  is  lengthened  along  a  diagonal 

between  the  obtuse  solitl  abgles,  it  becomes 

a  six-sided  pnaijn  witih  trihedral  summits, 

as  in  fig.  216;  aud  when  shortened  in  the 

same  direction,  it  becomes  a  rhombohedron 

which  has  its  eix   acute  'angles  truncated 

(fig,  217).     In   the   first 

case,  a  crystal  of  green 

garnet       or      uwarowite 

would  resemble  diopt 

in  the  latter,   coloui 

^rnct    would    resemble, 

tiilcile. 
Trapezo-      The    trapezohedron   is 
hcdron.    exceedingly    subject     to 

dfstortions,     which     fre- 
quently disguise  it  much. 

When   elongated    in   the 

direction  of  the  upright 


Fig.  219, 


Fig.  218. 

it  becomes  a   double   eight-sided   pyramid  with   four-sided 

iummHa  (fig.  218) ;  a  further  elongatioa  along  the  same  axis  would 


result  in  the  obliteration  of  these  summit  faces,  and  in  the  produc- 
tion of  a  perfect  double  octagoiial  pyramid  (fig.  219),  The  first 
of  these  distortions  is  exceedingly  common  in  analcime  and  not 


Fig.  220. 


Fig.  221. 


nncommon  in  garnet;  the  latter  rarely  occurs  in  analcime.  Length- 
ened along  an  octahedral  a^s  it  becomes  fig.  220 ;  shortened  along^ 
the  same  it  becomes  fig.  221,     Both  are  seen  in  analcime. 


Fig.  223. 


Fig.  222. 


When  the  tetrakishcxahedron  is  len^hened  along  a  single  octa-  Of  tetf** 
hedral  axis  it  assumes  the  form  of  fig.  222  ;  still  further  elongated,  kisheza* 
with  obliteration  of  one  half  of.  its  planes,  it  becomes  a  scalene  do-  hedron. 
decahedron,  resembling  the  "dog  tooth"  form 
of  calcite  (fig.  223).  Fig.  224  is  a  hemihedron  of 
tliis  form,  produced  by  shortening  along  an 
octahedral  axis,  with  obliter.ition  of  all  the 
planes  which  do  not  touch  the  poles  of  that  axis. 

In  the  case  of  modi- 
fied crystals  of  this 
system  the  distortions 
are  more  complex. 
Fig.  225  represents  a 
crystal  of  cinnamon- 
stone  from  Aberdeen- 
shire; it  is  a  con^bina-' 
tiou  of  the  dodecahe- 
dron and  the  traj^ezo- 
hedron.  Only  four 
dodecahedrnl  faces  re- 
main   {d),    and    those 


Fig.  224. 


Fig.  225. 
trapezohedron  (")  are  of  unequnl  size.     It  may  be  best 
understood  by  regarding  it  as  fig.  21S  with  the  four  vertical  faces 
of  fig.  213  ;  so  that  it  combines  the  distortions  of  both  of  these 
figures. 

Crystals  of  dinmond  are  very  frequently  distorted,  though  gene- 
rally through  curvatures  of  their  faces. 

Imperfections  in  the  Surfaces  of  Crystals, 

Of  these  the   most  important  are  strife,  caverns,  and 
curvatures. 

1.  Strutted  SirrfaccB. — Tho  jmrallel  furrows  on  the  surfaces  oflmperf^ 
crystals  are  called  istrin?,  ondKuch  aurfocea  arc  said  to  be  btnated.     tion  of 

Each  ridgo  on  a  striatod  surface  is  cncloaod  by  two  narrow  planes.  surfaceiL 
Those  planes  often  correspond  in  position  to  i  secondary  or  to  the 
primary  plnnos  of  the  crystol,  and  ■we  may  eunposo  these  ridges  to 
havo  been  formed  by  ropontod  opc-ill/ition  in  toe  operation  of  those 
causes  which  give  rise,  when  acting  uninterruptedly,  to  larger 
planes.  By  this  moans  tho  surfaces  of  a  crystal  are  markod'^in 
parallel  lines  with  a  sucoea^iou  of  narrow  plaucg,  meeting  at  angles 
allernately  re-ontoring  and  salient,  and  conytituting  tho  ridges 
relerred  to.  Tl>is  combination  of  dilTercnt  pl;tno3  in  tne  formation 
of  a  surface  has  been  termed  an  oscillation  of  ficos. 

Cubes  of  pyrites  are  gonorally  striated  in  buch  a  way  that  the  Striatloo. 
striffl  on  adjorent  faces  are  at  right  angles  to  one  another.     These 
lines  are  parallel  to  the  intcntectiona  of  the  primary  faces  with  the 
planes  of  the  pentagonal  dodecahedron,  whicn  is  the  most  common 
torm  of  pyrites  ;  and  they  have  evidently  resulted  from  an  oscilla-^ 
tion  between  the  primary  and  this  secondary  form. 

The  rhombic  doaecahedron  1&  often  striated  parallel  either  with  the 


MINERAJLOay 


36& 


edsea.  or  with  the  longer  or  the  shorter  diagonal  of  its  faces.  In  the 
irScase,  seen  in  ganiet  (flg.  226),  there  w  a  Mfisage  into  the  »ii- 
faoed  octahedron ;  the  second  results  from  an  oscUlatory  combination 
'of  the  dodecahedron  with  the  regular  octahedron,  as  in  magnetite ; 
and  the  last  with  the  cube,  as  in  eplome. 

Rhombohedrons  of  chabaaite  are  often  rtnated  parallel  to  the 


Fig.  226. 


y>e.  227. 


in  the  left-handed  and  right-handed  crystals,  the  twist  i/t  to  the 
right  or  left  according  as  the  crystal  is  right-  or  left-handed. 

The  surfaces  of  crystals  are  frequently  far  from  flat,  on  accoont  of 
fracture,  with  dislocation  of  the  several  fragments,  occasioned  by 
motion  in  the  enclosing  rock,  the  material  of  which  is  forced,  or  it 
may  be  transfused,  into  the  rents.  The  tourmalines  and  beryls  (fig.  Dislo* 
234)  which  occur  in  granitic  dykes  are  very  subject  to  this,  the  frag-  cated  > 
menu  being  often  bent  as  well  as  displaced,  A  more  or  less  siDiul-  crystida 
tancous  eflbrt  in  the  crystallization  of  two  substances  may  produce 
a  structure  with  the  external  form  of  one,  the  interior  of  which 
exhibita  imbedded  crystals  of  the  other,  more  or  less  perfect  in 
their  development.  In  pegmatite  or  graphic  granite,  rude  crystals 
of  felspar  contain  skeleton  forms  of  quartz,  of  which  generally  only, 
one  side  of  the  prism  and  two  of  the  pyramid  occur,  forming  a  radi» 
lettering.  Similar  hollow  quartz  forms  occur  imbedded  in  gameV 
radiating  from  its  ceutre  (fig.  235),  and  roughening  its  surface  from 
protrusion,  without  distorting  ita  form.  Totally  imbedded  micro- 
scopic crj'stals,  "microliths,"  are,  as  in  the  latter  cases,  chemi'! 


terminal  edges  (fig.  227),  indicating  an  oflcillstory  combination  be- 
tween the  primary  facea  and  a  secondary  plane  which,  bevels  these 
edges.  _ 

Striation  effaces  is  more  frequent  in  the  rhombohedrsd  system 
than  in  any  of  the  others.  Horizontal  stris  are  of  almost  invariable 
occurrence  is  the  prismatic 
faces  of  quartz,  whatever  be  the 
form  of  the  crystal.  The  oscil- 
lation hero  has  taken  place 
(between  the  pyramidal  and  the 
'prismatic  faces  (figs.  228,  229, 
230).  During  its  growth  there 
seems  to  have  been  a  con- 
tinued efibrt  to  complete  the 
'crystal  by  the  assumption  of 
the    terminal    planes, — which 

effort  was  intermittently  over-  F'g-  228.  Kg.  229.  Fig.  230. 
come  by  a  preponderating  one  to  continue  the  deposition  of  matter 
along  ita  main  axis.  Quartz  crystals,  from  these  alternate  efforta, 
<^n  taper  to  a  point,  without  having  auy  regular  pyramidal  face. 
The  lateral  planes  of  prisms  of  tourmaline  are  very  frequently 
•onvex,  owing  to  oscillation  between  several  lateral  faces.  In  all 
such  cases  the  interfacial  angles  cannot  be  determined,  as  they  ar« 
lost  in  the  rounding. 

The  striatiooa  on  the  lateral  faces  of  fbliated  minerals  are  merely 
the  edges  of  laminse.     Examples :  mica  and  gypsum. 
QiTsrft^         2.  Cavernous  Crystals. — Ci7stals  not  unfrequently  occur  with  a 
•nafacas.  deep  pyramidal  depression  occupying  the  place  of  each  plane,  as  is 
often  observed  in  common  salt,  galena  (fig.  21),  and  sulphur.     In 
the  solution  of  crystals  through  atmospheric  exposure,  an  approach 
to  the  same  form  is  sometimes  obtained,  owing  to  the  fact  that  the 
centres  of  the  faces  yield  sooner  than  the  edges  and  angles.    Crystals. 
of  redmthite  are  often  thus  cavemoos.     Sometimes  octahedrons 
occur  with  a  triangular  cavity,  in  place  of  each  face  (fig.  22).     The 
same  is  met  with  in  other  forms. 
Oarred        3.  Curved  Surfaces.  —Curved  surfaces  sometimes  result  from  the 
nrfacesT'oscillatory  combination  already  noticed.      Otners   result  from  a 
curvature  in  the  lamin.-e  constituting  the  crystaL      Crystals  of  i 
diamond  have  convex  faces,  and  are  sometimes  almost  spheres.  I 
Tliis  modo  of  curvature,  in  which  all  the  feces  are  equally  convex,  I 
is  less  common  than  that  in  which  a  convex  surface  is  opposite  and  I 
parallel  to  a  corresponding  concave  surface.     Rhombohedrons  of 
spathic  iron  and  pearl  spar  are  nsuallv  thus  curved,  as  is  shown 
iu  fig.  231.     The  saddle-shaped  crystals  of  the  same  mineral  (fig. 


Fig.  234.  Fig.  236. 

cally  non-assimilable.  These  are  frequently  arranged  in  lavers  in 
the  including  crystal,  as  in  augite-anJ  leucite.  'When  tnere  is 
a  certain  amount  of  chemical  resemblance  there  may  _  occur  a 
definiteness  in  the  arrangeHient ;  and  if  the  enclosed  substance 
crj'stallizes  in  a  system  differing  from  that  of  the  mineral  which 
includes  it,  the  angles  of  the  latter  are  more  or  less  distorted.  This 
is  the  case  in  "  microcline,"  where  the  intrusion  of  a  plagioclastio 
felspar  causes  some  departure  from  the  rectengularity  of  orthoclase. 
Foreign  amorphous  matter  caught  up  or  attaching  itaelf  to  the 
surface;  of  a  crystal,  duringthe  process  ofits  growth,  causes  lines  of 
feeble  cohesion, — as  in  the  case  of  capped  crystals  of  quartz.  Here 
an  occasional  selectiveness  in  the  seta  of  faces  to  which  the  foreiga 
matter  adheres  seems  to  indicate  that  it  has  been  to  some  extent 
under  the  influence  of  a  polarity  in  its  adhesion.  Something  of  the 
saine  kind  seems  to  have  influenced  the  srrangement  of  the  quartz 
grains  caught  up  during  the  formation  of  the  crystal  of  garnet 
shown  in  fig.  236.  The  perfect  modelling  of  rock  crystals  is, 
however,  but  little  interfered  with  by  the  almost  numberless 
substances  which  they  contain. 

^ggrerjaiion  of  Cryttalt. 
Crystalline  aggregates  which  pass  into  amorphous  masses 
may,  in  their  more  marked  or  perfect  form,  be  assigned  to  an 
imperfect  twinning. 
Fig.  231.  FiK  232.  I       Crystals  are  often  grouped  in  linear  series,  as  in  iiative  Regular 

«,o>  .,.„„'.,',..  .  ,  ,  .     ,     '  copper  and  silver,  and  thus  constitute  long  threads  or  re-  aggre- 

232)  are  remarkable  instances  of  several  reversed  curvatures  in  the     f,•„,,Io^;/^„o      t„  »i„  *  .  j    _.  .  i   ^i.  i-   ■   •  i,    ,.1.      i?atiM 

».me  face.     A  sinmlar  curvature  is  shown  in  fig  233,  of  cilcite:     ^^""^^^"^^^  ^  clustered  crystals  those  adjoining  each  other  S'^'"- 
The  conical  erj'stals  of  brown  zinc  blende,  aud  the  lenticular  and     "^  generally  parallel   in  position,  and  are   muted    by  a 
conical    crystals    of  gypsum,   are  other  examples.      Crj-stals  of     plane  parallel  to  one  of  the  principal  sections,  or  to  planes  of 
a.uartzare  sometimes  curved  and  twisted.    When  this  takes  j.hico     common  occurrence.    Senarmont  mentions  a  union  in  galena, 


868 


M.  I  N  E  R  A  L  0  G"Y 


Of  octa- 
hedron. 


Of  do. 
deca- 
hedron. 


crystr'l  or  ."leeJlc,  aa  happens  in  red  copper  and/  pyrites.     Cry&L^lo 
of  acicular  pyrites  occur  at  the  Newton-Stewart  lead-mine. 

An  octahe-iron  flattened  parallel  to  two  of  its  faces  is  reduced  to 
a  tabular  crystal  (fig.  210).  If  lengthened  iu  the  same  direction, 
it  takes  the  form* 
in  fig.  211;  or  if 
it  is  still  further 
len;(thened,tothe 
obliteration  of 
two  opposite  octa- 
hf^dral  faces,  it 
becomes  an  acute 
rhombohedron 
(same  figure). 

A-Vhea  an  octa- 
hedron is  extend- 
ed iu  the  direction 
of  a  line  between 
two  opposite 

edges,  it  h;is  the 
general  form  of 
a  rectangul.ir 
octahedron  ;  and 
still  further  ex- 
tended, as  in  fig. 
212,  it  is  changed 
to  a  rhombic 
prism  with  dihc- //J- 

dral        summits.  ^.     212. 

The  figure  ropre-  °  ° 

sents  this  prism  lying  on  its  acute  edge  (spinel,  fluor,  magnetite)^ 

The  dodecahedron  when  lengthened  in  the  direction  of  the  up- 
right axis  becomes  a  square  prism  with  pyramidal  summits  (fig. 
213);  and  when  shortened  along  the  same  axis  it  is  reduced  to  a 
square  octahedron  with  truncated  basal  angles  (fig.  214).      Both 


Fig.  213.  Fig.  214.  Fig.  215. 

these  forms  are  modifications  of  'he  square  pri.sm;  the  first  mode 
of  distortion  is  common  in  garnft,  i-eudering  it  liable  to  be  con- 
sidered zircon  ;  the  second  is  seen  iu  aplome,  wlu-n  it  might  be  taken 


Fi(r.  216.  Fig.  217. 

forstanuiti'.  When  the  first  of  these  forms  is  flattened,  as  in  fig.  215 

it  resembles  a  form  of  stilbite. 

When   ft  dodecaliedrou   again  is  lengthened  along  a  diagonal 

between  the  obtuse  solid  angles,  it  becomes 

a  six-sided  prisyi  witti  trihedral  summits, 

as  in  fig.  216;  and  when  shortened  in  the 

same  direction,  it  becomes  a  rhombohedron 

which   has  its  six    acute 

(fig.  217).     In   the    first 

case,  a  crystal  of  green 

garuct       or      uwarowite 

would  resemble  dioptase ; 

in  the  latter,   colourless 

f^rnct    would    resemble^ 

^ilcile. 
Tr»pezo-      The    trapezohedron   is 
hedron.    exceedingly    subject     to 

dfetortions.    which     fre- 
quently disguise  it  much. 

When   elongated    in  the 

direction  of  the  upright 


Fig.  219. 


Fig.  213. 
axia   it  becomes  a  double   eight-sided   pyramid   with    four-sided 
flummita  (fig.  218)  -,  a  further  elongation  along  the  samo  axia  would 


result  in  the  oblitention  of  these  summit  faces,  and  in  the  produc- 
tion of  a  perfect  double  octagonal  pyramid  (fig.  219),  The  tirst 
of  these  distortions  is  exceedingly  common  in  analcime  and  not 


Fig.  220. 


Fig.  221. 


uncommon  in  garnet;  the  latter  rarely  occurs  in  analcime.  Length- 
ened along  an  octahedral  axis  it  becomes  fig.  220;  shortened  along 
the  same  it  becomes  fig.  221.     Both  are  seen  in  analcime. 


Fig.  223.  Fig.  222. 

"WTien  the  tetrakishcxahedron  is  lengthened  along  a  single  octa-  Of  tetft* 
hedral  axis  it  assumes  the  form  of  fig.  222  ;  still  further  elongated,  kisheia- 
with  obliteration  of  one  half  of  its  planes,  it  becomes  a  scalene  do-  hedron. 
decahedron,  resembling  the  *'dog  tooth"  form 
of  calcite  (fig.  223).  Fig.  224  is  a  hemihedron  of 
this  form,  produced  by  shortening  along  an 
octahedral  axis,  with  obliteration  of  all  the 
planes  which  do  not  touch  the  poles  of  that  axis. 

In  the  case  of  modi- 
fied crystals  of  this 
system  the  distortions 
are  more  complex. 
Fig.  225  represents  a 
crystal  of  cinnamon- 
stone  from  Aberdeen- 
shire ;  it  is  a  conkbina-' 
tiou  of  tho  dodecahe- 
drou  end  the  trajwzo- 
hedron.  Only  four 
dodccahedrnl  faces  to- 
maili  (rf),  and  those 
of    the   trapezohedron   (h) 

understood  by  regnnling  it  ns  fig.  218  with  th6  four  vertical  ftrces 
of  fig.  213  ;  so  that  it  combines  the  distortions  of  both  of  these 
figures. 

Ciystals  of  diamond  are  very  frequently  dislortedj  though  gene- 
rally through  curvatures  of  their  facra. 

Imperfectioyis  in  the  Surfaces  of  Crystals. 

Of  these  the   most  important  are  striee,  caverns,  and 
curvatures. 

1.  Striated  S^trfaccB, — Tho  jarallcl  furrows  on  the  eurfflrea  of  luperfto. 
crybtala  ore  called  atria?,  andcuch  BurfaccB  arc  said  to  be  strinted.     tion  of 

Each  ridgo  on  a  etriatod  suKace  is  oncloaed  by  two  narrow  planes.  eurface& 
Those  planes  often  correspond  in  position  to  t  aecoudary  or  to  the 
primnry  plnncs  of  the  crystol,  onu  wo  may  euniwse  those  ridges  to 
navo  been  formed  by  ropentod  o»«.'illntion  in  tne  operation  of  thow 
cousoa  which  give  rise,  when  acting  uninterruptedly,  to  larger 
planes.  By  this  moans  tho  eurfocea  of  a  crystal  ore  markoa  in 
parallel  lines  with  a  Bucoo».-.iou  of  narrow  planes,  meeting  at  angles 
allernately  re-ontoring  and  salient,  and  conbtituting  tho  riagea 
relerred  to.  Tl>ia  combination  of  dilTercnt  phinesin  tne  formation 
of  a  surface  has  been  termed  an  oscillation  of  firos. 

Cubes  of  pyrites  are  generally  etriatod  in  nuch  a  way  thnt  the  StrUtta^ 
Btrifle  on  adjacent  faces  are  at  right  angles  to  cue  another.     These 
lines  aro  parallel  to  tho  intcrsectionfl  of  tho  primarj*  faces  with  the 
planes  of  the  peutagnnal  dodocnhedron,  whicn  is  the  most  common 
form  of  pyrites  ;  and  they  have  uvidently  resulted  fi-om  an  oscilla-^ 
tion  between  the  primary  and  this  secondary  form. 

The  rhombic  dodecahedron  lb  often  striated  parallel  either  with  the 


MINERAJUOU-y 


369 


edees  or  with  the  longer  or  the  shorter  diagonal  of  its  faces.  lii  the 
firet  cose,  seen  in  garnet  (fig.  226),  there  u  a  passage  into  the  «ix- 
faoed  octahedron ;  the  seconil  results  from  an  oscillatory  combination 
'of  the  dodecahedron  with  the  regular  octahedron,  as  in  magnetite ; 
•nd  the  last  with  the  cube,  as  in  aplome. 

Rhombohedrona  of  chabaaite  are  often  etnated  parallel  to  the 


^^%^  dk 


Fig.  226.  Fig.  227. 

terminal  edges  (fig.  227),  indicating  an  oscillatorjr  combination  be- 
tween the  primary  faces  and  a  secondary  plane  which,  berels  these 
edges.  _ 

Striation  of  faces  is  more  frequent  in  the  rhombohedral  system 
than  in  any  of  the  others.  Horizontal  striae  are  of  almost  invariable 
occurrence  in  the  prismatio 
faces  of  quartz,  whatever  be  the 
form  of  the  crystal.  The  oscil- 
lation hero  has  taken  place 
(between  the  pyramidal  and  the 
'prismatic  faces  (figs.  228,  229, 
230).  During  its  growth  there 
seems  to  hare  been  a  con- 
tinued effort  to  complete  the 
'crystal  by  the  assumption  of 
the  terminal  planes, — which 
effort  was  intermittently  over-  F'g-  228.  Fig.  229.  Fig.  230. 
come  by  a  preponderating  one  to  continue  the  deposition  of  matter 
along  its  main  axis.  Quartz  crystals,  from  these  alternate  efforts, 
<^n  taper  to  a  point,  without  having  auy  regular  pyramidal  face. 
Tho  lateral  planes  of  prisms  of  tourmaline  are  very  frequently 
convex,  owing  to  oscillation  between  several  lateral  faces.  In  all 
snch  cases  the  interfacial  angles  cannot  be  determined,  as  they  are 
lost  in  the  rouuding. 

The  striations  on  the  lateral  faces  of  fbliated  minerals  ax«  merely 

the  edges  of  laminse.     Examples :  mica  and  g3rpsum. 

CVerei        2.  Cavemmis  Crystals. — Crystals  not  nnfrequently  occur  with  a 

n»  ttiote.  "leep  pyramidal  depression  occupying  the  place  of  each  plane,  as  is 

often  observed  in  common  salt,  galena  (fig.  21),  .ind  sulphur.     In 

the  solution  of  crystals  through  atmospheric  exposure,  an  approach 

to  the  same  form  is  sometimes  obtained,  owing  to  the  fact  that  the 

centres  of  tho  faces  yield  sooner  than  the  edges  and  angles.    Crystals. 

of  redrnthite  are  often  thus  cavernous.     Sometimes  octahedrons 

occur  with  a  triangular  cavity,  in  place  of  each  face  (fig.  22).    The 

same  is  met  with  in  other  forms. 

OMrred        3-  Curved  Surfaces. — Curved  surfaces  soraetiraes  result  from  the 

Ivfacesr'osciUatory  combination  already  noticed.      Otners   result  from  a 

curvature  in  the   lamiure  constituting  tho  crystal.      Crystals  of 

diamond  have  convex  faces,  and  are  sometimes  almost  spheres. 

This  mode  of  curvature,  in  which  all  the  ff>ces  are  equally  convex, 

is  less  common  than  that  in  which  a  convex  surface  is  opposite  and 

parallel  to  a  corresponding  concave  surface.     Rhombohodrons  of 

spathic  iron  and  pearl  spar  are  usually  thus  curved,  as  is  sliown 

in  fig.  231.    The  saddle-shaped  crystals  of  the  same  mineral  (fig. 


in  the  left-handed  and  right-handed  crystals,  the  twist  la  to  the 
right  or  left  according  as  the  crystal  is  right-  or  left-handed. 

The  surfaces  of  crystals  are  frequently  far  from  flat,  on  account  of 
fracture,  with  dislocation  of  the  several  fragments,  occasioned  by 
motion  in  the  enclosing  rock,  the  material  ol  which  is  forced,  or  it 
may  be  transfused,  into  the  rents.  The  tourmalines  and  beryls  (fig.  Dislo* 
234)  which  occur  in  granitic  dykes  are  very  subject  to  this,  the  frag-  cated  I 
meuts  being  often  bent  as  well  as  displaced.  A  more  or  less  Bimul-  crj-stsla 
tancous  effort  in  the  crystallization  of  two  substances  may  produce 
a  structure  with  the  external  form  of  one,  the  interior  of  which 
exhibits  imbedded  crystals  of  the  other,  more  or  less  perfect  in 
their  development.  In  pegmatite  or  graphic  granite,  ruae  crystals 
of  felspar  contain  skeleton  forms  of  quartz,  of  which  generally  only, 
one  side  of  the  prism  and  two  of  the  pyramid  occur,  forming  a  rud& 
lettering.  Similar  hollow  quartz  forms  occur  imbedded  in  garnet,' 
radiating  from  its  centre  (fig.  235),  and  roughening  its  surface  fron» 
protrusion,  without  distorting  its  form.  1  otally  imbedded  micro-! 
Boopic  crystals,  "microlithB,"  are,  as  in  the  latter  cases,  chemi'^ 


Fig.  234.  Fig.  236. 

cally  non-a<isimilable.     These  are  frequently  arranged  in  layers  in 

the  including  crystal,  as  in  augitcand  leucite.      When  wen  is 

a  certain   amount  of  chemical   resemblance  there   may  _  occur  a 

definiteness  in  the  arrangeflient ;  and  if  the  enclosed  substance 

crj'stallizes  in  a  system  differing  from  that  of  the  mineral  which 

includes  it,  the  angles  of  the  latter  are  more  or  less  distorted.     This 

is  the  case  in  "  microcline,"  where  the  intrusion  of  a  plagioclastio 

I  felspar  causes  some  departure  from  the  rectangularity  of  orthoclase. 

Foreign  amorphous  matter  caught  up  or  attaching  itself  to  the 

j  surfacer  of  o  crystal,  during  the  process  of  its  growth,  causes  lines  of 

I  feeble  cohesion, — as  in  the  case  of  capped  crystals  of  quartz.     Hera 

an  occasional  selectiveness  in  the  sets  of  faces  to  which  the  foreign 

matter  adheres  seems  to  indicate  that  it  has  been  to  some  extent 

!  under  the  inilueuce  of  a  polarity  in  its  adhesion.     Something  of  the 

,  same  kind  seems  to  have  influenced  the  arrangement  of  the  quartz 

I  grains  caught  up  during  the  formation  of  the  crystal  of  garnet 

shown  in  fig.  236.      The  perfect  modelling  of  rock  crystSs  is, 

I  however,   but  little  interfered   with    by   the   almost   numberless 

substances  which  they  contoin. 

Aggregation  of  Cry^ali. 
Crystalline  aggregates  which  pass  into  amorphotis  masses 
may,  in  their  more  marked  or  perfect  form,  be  assigned  to  an 
I  imperfect  twinning. 
Fig  231.  yj-  232  Crystals  are  often  grouped  in  linear  series,  as  in  native  Regular 

9.«v  .„,..„',,  V,   ■    I  ,  ,  ,  '      .     ,     '  copper  and  silver,  and  thus  constitute  long  threads  or  re-  »ggre- 

ai)  are  remarkable  instances  of  several  reversed  curvatures  in  the     f;n„i„«;„„„      t_    i     *  ..  j         i  i   xi.  j-  •   •  i.    ii.      ntpi 

•    aam,  face.     A  singular  curvature  is  X)wn  infig  233   of  calcite!     ''"^^lations.     In  clustered  crystals  those  adjoining  each  other  S^'"- 
The  conical  crystals  of  brown  zinc  blende,  aud  the  lenticular  and     ^^^  generally  parallel   in   position,  and  are   umted   by  a 
conical    crystals   of  gypsum,   are  other  examples.      Ci-j-stals  of     plane  parallel  to  one  of  the  principal  sections,  or  to  planes  of 
ftuartz  are  sometimes  curved  and  twisted.     When  this  takes  place     common  occurrence.    Senarmont  mentions  a  union  in  galena, 


870 


MIN.EKALOGY 


crystal 

^owth. 


■<lTegul! 

aggi'6- 

^tes. 


<  struc 
fUre  ill 


liarallel  i'o  the  octahedral  faces,  ns  coucinon ;  and  he  also 
^escribes  an  instance  where  -the  union  was  parallel  to  the 
^lane  3f . 

The  positions  of  crystals  on  tLc  suijporting'rock  seem  at  firet 
(to  be  without  auy  regularity.  But  by  closer  inspection  we  detect 
even  here  the  same  law  of  harmony  that  governs  the  formation  of 
the  simple  and  compound  crystal  The  various  positions  assumed 
correspond  generally  with  tho  more  common  kinds  of  composition 
in  twin  crystals.  This  regularity  is  not  always  manifest  on  account 
of  the  unevcnness  of  the  surface  on  which  they  rest.  In  general, 
however,  on  glancing  over  a  surface  covered  with  crystals,  a 
Teflexion  from  one  face  will  be  accompanied  mth  reflexions  from 
|the  corresponding  face  in  each  of  the  other  crystals,  showing  that 
the  crystals  are  similarly  positioned  throughout. 

This  tendency  to  parallelism  in  tho  "positions  of  associated 
crystals  is  apparent  even  in  crystalline  aggregates.  In  granite 
for  example,  which  is  composed  of  felspar,  quartz,  and  -mica,  the 
felspar  ciystallizations  have  usually  a  common  position ;  that  is 
,the  corresponding  extremities  lie  in  the  same  direction,  or  nearly 
eo.  On  this  account  granite  is  cleavable  in  one  direction  more 
easily  than  in  others,  and  this  direction  is  that  of  the  perfect 
cleavage  plane  of  the  felspar;  the  second  less  perfect  cleavage  of 
the  felspar  permits  of  fracture  of  the  rock  nearly  at  right  angles  to 
the  first ;  but,  as  there  is  no  such  third  cleavage  in  the  felspar,  the 
workman,  in  fashioning  the  blocks  of  granite  for  paving  stones,  is 

impelled  to  chip  or  dress  them  off  in  the  third  direction. 
;-  The  dominant  action  of  polarity  may,  moreover,  give  a  parallel 
Position  to  the  main  axes  of  different  minerals  belonging  to  the 
.•,ame  system,  when  crystallizing  in  association,  and  even  to  those 
which  belong  to  different  systems. 
Fig.  237  is  an  illustration  of  the  first 
of  such  cases,  whore  a  crystal  of  zircon 
is  implanted  into  a  crystal  of  xenotime, 
and  has  its  main  axis  identically  in 
the  same  line.  As  illustrations  of  the 
latter — a  parallel  position  of  the  axes 
of  crystals  of  different  systems— there 
are  records  of  such  association  in 
Crystals  of  cyanite  and  staurolite,  of 
tnuscovite  and  haughtonite,  of  albite 
and  orthoclase.  The  same  has  been 
observed  between  crystals  of  rutile 
and  specular  iron, — the  crystals  of 
I'utile  in  this  case  having  the  vertical 
juds  in  the  direction  of  a  lateral  axis 
ft  the  specular  iron.  Haidinger  has  observed  pyroxene  and  hom- 
Hende  crystals  associated  in  parallel  positions. 

A  prism  of  caloite  terminating  in  the  planes  g  (fig.  106)  has  been 
(Observed,  in  which  each  plane  was  covered  with  small  crystals  of 
fl  uarU  all  lying  symmetrically,  with  their  pyramids  pointing  towards 
^he  summit  of  the  calcite  crystal.  When  one  mineral  is  chani^ed 
into  another,  a  polarity  of  accretion  is  still  often  seen  to  have  domi- 
bated  m  the  arrangement.  In  a  crystal  of  calcite  which  had  been 
Bhangcd  into  a  number  of  minute  crystals  of  aragonite,  the  main 
ftxes  of  the  latter  all  lay  in  the  direction  of  the  main  axis  of  the 
tiiiginal  crystal  of  calcite. 

r  Irregular  Aggregation  of  Crystals.— Besiaes  the  regular 
"jmons  now  describe'd,  crystals  are  often  aggregated  in 
p.iculiar  ways,  to  which  no  fixed  Jaws  can  be  assigned.    ■  • 

Thus  some  crystals,  apparently  simple,  are  composed  of  concen- 
|tr!c  crusts  or  shells,  which  may  be  removed  one  after  the  other 
always  leaving  a  smaller  crystal  like  a  kernel,  with  smooth  distinct 
pees.  Some  specimens  of  quartz  from  Beeralston  in  Devonshire 
teonsist  apparently  of  hollow  hexagonal  pyramids  placed  one  within 
Another.  Other  minerals,  as  fluor-spar,  apatite,  idocraso,  heavy 
fepar,  and  calcrspar,  disclose  a  similar  structure  by  bands  of  dif- 
ferent colours,  A  growth  rendered  intermittent  throufli  tho 
ideposition  of  a  thin  layer  of  foreign  matter  is  thus  developed. 

Many  large  crystals,  again,  appear  like  an  aggregate  of  numerous 
small  crystals,  partly  of  the  same  partly  of  dill'erent  forms  Thus 
some  octahedrons  of  fluor-spar  from  Schlaggenwald  are  made  up  of 
pmall  dark  violot-blue  cubes,  whose  projecting  angles  give  a  drusy 
character  to  the  faces  of  the  larger  form.  Such  polysjmthctic 
fcrystals,  as  they  may  bo  called,  arc  very  common  in  calc-spar. 
:  :I'orms  of  Crystalline  Aggregates. — Crystals  have  often 
been  produced  under  conditions  i)rcventing  the  free  de- 
velopment of  their  forms ;  and,  according  to  tho  direction 
of  the  axis  in  which  the  dovelopmeut  has  been  checked, 
'|they  may  be  divided  into  " columnar .'.'- and  "lamellar" 
arrangements. 

Tlie  columnar  struelure  is  made  up  of  a  mor«  or  less  fibrous 
arran-eraent;  and  this  may  be  supposed  to  have  accrued  from  the 
«mult«iieou«  growth  of  a  multitude  of  cryatals  from  u  .single  or 


Fig.  237. 


from  closely  adjacent  centres  of  support,  eo  that,  while  the  crystal,' 
were  free  to  elongate  themselves  in  the  direction  of  their  main  axis, 
their  increase  was  restrained  laterally,  by  their  impact  upon  one 
another.  When  the  surfaces  of  support  are  level,  or  consist  of 
the  opposing  sides  of  a  vein,  the  columns  or  fibres,  frequently 
exceedingly  delicate,  are  parallel,  and  not  unfrequently  they  then 
have  a  silky  lustre.  In  the  latter *f  the  above  circumstances  the 
fibres  are  disposed  transversely  to  the  vein.  Examples:  gypsum, 
chrysotile,  satin-spar.  When  the  surface  of  support  is  rough,  or  haa 
angular  projections,  the  fibres  radiate  from  certain  of  the=c  in  all 
directions,  producing,  in  a  thin  vein,  a  starlike  form,  whence  tho 
aiTangement  is  called  "stellular."  Example :  wavellite.  AVhenthis 
takes  place  in  an  open  cavity,  producingbnish-like  forms,  they  are 
termed  "radiant."  Examples  ;  antimonite,  necdlestone.  When  the 
points  of  divergent  growth  are  so  positioned  that  the  radiating 
groups  interlace  with  one  another,  the  structure  is  said  to  be 
"reticulated,"  from  its  resemblance  to  a  net.  Example  :  tremolite. 
"When  individual  members  of  such  fibrous  structure  project  above 
the  general  surface  with  acuminated  extremities,  they  are  said  to  be 
'' acicul.ar";  when  the  protruding  columns  are  of  uniform  thickness 
they  are  termed  "  bacillary,"  or  rod-Like.  Such  terms  as  straight, 
carved,  twisted-columnar,  diverging,  or  confused-fibrous  explain 
themselves.  Such  fibrous  arrangements  as  the  above  may  occur 
imbedded  centrally  in  a  rock  mass,  which  had  been  the  magma 
out  of  which  they  were  formed;  or  they  may  line  the  inner  surface 
of  cavities,  filled  originally  either  with  water  or  aqueous  vapour. 
These  modes  of  occurreece  have  been  distinguished  by  Hobs  as 
crystal  groups  and  druses.  The  former  includes  all  unions  of  im- 
bedded crystals  round  a  central  nucleus;  the  latter  those  of  crystals 
of  simultaneous  or  regularly  successive  growth  on  a  common 
support.  In  the  first  case,  there  may  be  spheroidal,  ellipsoidal,  cocks- 
comb, or  other  forms,  frequently  seen  in  marcasite,  pyrite,  and 
gypsum.  In  the  second,  spheroidal  forms  are  less  rare,  but  ar» 
seen  in  the  case  of  several  of  the  fibrous  zeolites.  In  such  cases 
surfaces  more  or  less  rough  are  coated,  and  diminished  in  angularity, 
through  the  hemispherical  forms  produced  by  the  radiation  of  L 
multitude  of  fibres.  Certain  imitative  outlines  thus  result  from  the 
successive  deposition  of  layers  of  these  crysUls.  These  forms  or 
uniting  masses  are  termed  "globular"  when  nearly  spherical,  "botry- 
oidal "  when  like  bunches  of  grapes,  "  reniform  "  or  kidney-shaped 
when  the  spheres  are  larger,  more  confluent,  and  less  distinct,  and 
"mammillated"  when  the  masses  are  nearertohemispheres.  Mesolite 
occurs  in  globular  forms;  piehnite  in  hotryoidal;  hamatite  and 
chalcedony  in  reniform;  and  siderite  and  calamine  in  mammillated. 
In  all  the  above  cases  the  transverse  fracture  of  such  structures  dis- 
closes tlie  fib,-ou3  arrangement  of  the  parts  ;  but,  if  the  giowth  has 
been  intermittent,  lines  of  deposit,  concentric  with  the  central 
nucleus  of  each  sphere,  are  evidenced  by  layers  of  distinct  colours. 
1'  racture  or  separation  frequently  takes  place,  also,  along  such  lines. 
In  such  drusy  cavities— termed  "geodes  "  when  they  are  circular- 
after  a  certain  number  of  such  lines  of  deposit,  grouped  arrange- 
ments which  have  somewhat  more  of  free  crystalline  development 
may  assume  other  imitative  forms  in  which  there  is  a  certain 
dependence  on  the  crystallographic  character  of  the  mineral  con- 
cerned. There  are  thus  produced  coralloidal  or  coral-like  groups, 
tmticose  or  cauliflower-like  groups,  capillary  or  hair-like,  and  fili- 
form or  thiead-like  or  wire-like  forms.  Often  these  groups  expand 
in  several  directions,  and  produce  arborescent,  dendritic  plumose 
mossy,  dentiform,  or  other  forms.  Such  are  common  among  the 
native  metals;  as  gold,  silver,  and  copper.  Mesolite  is  very 
frequently  plumose.  A  "drusy  crust"  is  the  term  applied  to  a 
thm  rough  layer  of  crystals,  which  invests  either  a  large  crystal 
or  the  surface  of  some  other  body  lodged  in  the  interior  of 
cavities. 

In  tho  lamellar  structure  a  development  along  the  main  axis 
would  apjjear  to  have  been  checked,  and  tho  crystallographic  force 
to  have  expended  itself  laterally;  though  this  is  not  the  invariable 
habit  of  a  species  under  all  circumstances,  as  exemplified  by  baryte. 
This  structure  consists  of  flat  crystils,  plates,  or  leaves.  It  is 
termed  "tabular"  when  tho  plates  are  of  uniform  thickness, 
"lenticular"  when  they  are  thinner  on  the  edges,  "wedge-shaped" 
when  sharp  on  one  edge,  "scaly"  when  the  plates  are  thin  and 
small,  "  foliaceous"  when  larger  and  easily  separable;  "  micaceows" 
IS  also  used  to  describe  this  kind  of  structure.  It  may  also  be  curved 
lamellar  and  straight  lamellar.  Wollastonite,  when  flat  lamellar, 
13  called  tabular  spar ;  gypsum  is  frequently  lenticular,  Ulc  scaly. 
Lamellar  minerals  when  radiating  from  a  centre  6rten  form  fan- 
shaped,  wheel-like,  almond-shaped,  comb-like,  and  other  groups. 

In  tho  granular  structure,  the  force  of  crystallization  has  been 
exerting  itself  along  all  the  axes  ;  but,  from  the  multiplicity  of 
crystallizing  centres,  there  has  been  such  mutual  interference  that 
no  single  individuals  liavo  been  able  to  assume  perfect  or  even 
characteristic  forms.  The  particles  in  a  granular  structure  differ 
much  in  size.  When  coarse,  the  mineral  is  described  as  coareely 
granular  ;  when  fine,  finely  granular  ;  if  not  distinguishable  by 
the  naked  eye,  tho  structure  is  termed  impalpable.  Examples  of 
the  first  may  be  observed  is.  granular  carlionato  of  lime,  of  tli» 


MINERALOGY 


371 


■econd  In  some  varieties  of  specnkr  iron,  of  the  last  in  chalcedony, 
opal,  and  other  species. 

The  above  tjrms  are  indefinite,  bnt  of  necessity,  as  there  is 
ev'jry  degree  of  fioeneas  of  structure  in  the  mineral  species,  from 
perfectly  iinpalpable,  through  all  possible  shades,  to  the  coarsest 
granular.  Trie  term  phanero-crystallino  has  been  used  for  varieties 
in  which  the  grains  are  distinct,  and  crypto-crystaUine  for  those 
in  which  they  are  not  discernible  without  the  aid  of  a  lens. 
Granular  minerals,  when  easily  crumbled  in  the  fingers,  are  said  to 
he  friable. 

The  minute  or  crypto-crystalline  minerals  form  aggregates  some- 
what similar  to  the  above.  When  globular  or  oolitic,  the  minute 
crystals  often  appear  to  radiate  from  a  centre,  or  form  concentric 
crusts.  These  are  often  globular  or  nodular;  as  in  dolomite.  Some- 
what similar  are  the  stalactites  and  stalagmite^  in  which  the 
mineral  (especially  rock-salt,  calc-spar,  malachite,  haematite, 
limonite)  has  been  deposited  from  a  fluid  dropping  slowly  from 
some  overhanging  body,  or  some  rent  in  the  roof  of  a  cave.  In 
this  case  there  is  generally  found  a  long  pendent  cylinder  or  cone, 
the  principal  axis  of  which,  generally  hollow,  is  vertical,  whilst 
the  marginal  parts  are  arranged  at  right  angles  to  it,  except  where 
they  curve  round  the  termination  of  the  tube,  when  they  become 
hemispherical. 

By  far  the  largest  masses  of  the  mineral  kingdom  have,  however, 
been  produced  under  conditions  in  which  a  free  development  of  their 
forms  was  excluded,  and  are  termed  amorphous.  This  has  been  the 
case  with  the  greater  portion  of  the  minerals  composing  rocks  or 
filling  veins  and  dykes.  The  structure  of  these  masses  on  the  large 
scale  belongs  to  geology,  but  some  varieties  of  the  textures,  visible 
in  hand  specimens,  may  be  noticed.  The  individual  grains  or 
masses  have  seldom  any  regular  form,  but  appear  round,  long,  or 
flat,  according  to  circumstances,  and  as  each  has  been  more  or  less 
checked  in  the  process  of  formation.  Even  then,  however,  a  certain 
regularity  in  the  position  of  the  parts  is  often  observable,  as  in 
graphic  granite,  where  the  axes  of  the  skeleton  crystals  of  qnartz 
»re  parallel.  The  rock  is  termed  massive  when  the  grains  which 
form  it  are  small,  or  granular  when  they  are  longer  and  more  dis- 
tinct. Sometimes  the  rock  becomes  slaty,  dividing  into  thin 
plates  ;  or  concretionary,  forming  roundish  masses  ;  at  other  times 
the  interposition  of  some  foreign  substance  (gas  or  vapour)  has 
Tendered  it  porous,  cellular,  or  vesicular,  giving  rise  to  drusy 
cavities.  These  cavities  are  often  empty,  but  have  occasionally 
been  more  or  less  filled  by  products  of  change  in  the  rock.  It  is 
named  araygdaloidal  when  the  cavities  so  filled  have  the  form  of 
an  almond. 

Changes  of  Crystalline  Structure. 

i  "  Pseudomorphs "  are  minerals  which  appear  under  a 

fqpn   of   crystallization   which  does   not   belong   to    the 

species.     They  may  be  recognized  either  by  their  having 

no  cleavage,  which  is  most  usual,  or   by  their  cleavage 

being  altogether  di£ferent  in  direction  from  that  of  the 

mineral  imitated.     Generally  they  have  rounded  angles, 

rough  and  dull  surfaces,  and  when  broken  show  a  granular 

structure.     The  faces  of  the  crystal,  moreover,  are  often 

covered  with  minute  crystals  of  a  form  different  from  that 

of  the  mineral  imitated,  but  which  is  that  belonging  to  the 

substance  now  present.     Occasionally  the  resemblance  to 

real  crystals  is  so  perfect,  from  the  perfect  polish  of  the 

faces,  that  they  are  distinguished  with  difficulty.     They 

may  be  frequently  found  stiU  undergoing  change. 

Pwndo-       Pseudomorphs  have  been  classed  under  four  heads: — 

iuor]>hj        1.  Pseudomorfha  by  AUcration. — Formed  by  a  gradual  change  of 

classi-      compostion  in  a  species.     Of  these  there  are  two  varieties:  they 

Sfil.  may  be  pseudomorphous  by  loss  of  an  ingredient,  or  by  addition  of 

an  ingredient ;  change  of  angite  to  steatite  is  an  example  of  the 

fii-st,  and  of  galena  into  anglesite  is  one  of  the  second. 

2.  Pseiutoinorpha  by  Substitulion.  —Those  formed  by  the  replace- 
ment of  a  mineral  which  has  been  removed,  or  is  gradually  under- 
going ismoval;  e.g.,  galena  takes  the  form  of  pyromorphite. 

3.  Pseudomorphs  by  iTicnistatum.— Those  formed  through  the 
incrustation  of  a  crystal,  which  may  be  subsequently  dissolved  away. 
Often  the  cavity  is  afterwards  filled  by  infiltration;  e.g.,  change  of 
fiuor  to  quartz. 

i.  Pscudomorpha  by  Paramorphism. — Those  formed  when  a 
mineral  passes  from  one  dimoi-phous  state  to  another  ;  e.g.,  change 
of  aragonite  to  cilcite. 

'  These  different  kinds  of  change  arc  not  always  distinguishable. 
»  In  some  cases  a  change  may  take  place  through  alteration  of  the 
anrface,  and  then,  this  process  ceasing,  the  interior  may  be  dis- 
solved out,  leaving  a  pseudomorph  like  one  of  incrustation  ;  or  a 
Wendomorph  that  appears  to  be  a  result  of  mere  chemical  altera- 
tion may  be  wholly  due  to  sahstitutiou  simnly. 


Again,  changes  of  scapclite  to  a  felspar,  and  of  augite  to  nralite 
(hornblende),  have  been  considered  by  Scheerer  examples  of 
paramorphism, — scapolite  being  considered  dimorphous  with  some 
felspars,  and  augite  with  hornblende.  But,  while  such  paramorphic 
changes  undoubtedly  take  place  with  aragonite,  their  occurrence  in 
these  silicates — which  are  common  associates  in  the  same  rock,  and 
must  have  been  formed  under  like  circumstances — is  hardly  prob- 
able. 

Where  mineral  bodies  have  taken  the  form  of  organisms,  it  id 
more  a  case  of  molecular  replacement  than  of  true  pseudomorphism. 

Pseudomorphism  should  be  understood,  however,  to  consist,  not 
simply  in  alteration  of  crystals,  but  in  many  instajices  of  changes 
in  beds  of  rock.  Thus  all  serpentine,  whether  in  mountain  masses 
or  in  simple  crystals,  has  been  formed  through  a  process  of  pseudo- 
morphism— or,  iu  more  general  language,  of  metamorphism — of 
olivine  and  augite.  The  same  is  tnie  of  other  matrnesian  rocks,  aa 
steatitic,  talcose,  and  chlorite  slates.  The  crj'stalline  rocks  often 
offer  examples  of  a  change  similar  in  nature.  The  graphite  of  these 
rocks  is  probably  but  a  metamorph  of  some  vegetable  organism. 
Thus  the  subject  of  metamorphism,  as  it  bears  on  all  crjstalline 
rocks,  and  that  of  pseudomorphism,  are  but  branches  of  one  system 
of  phenomena ;  the  chemistry  of  both  is  the  same,  and  a  knowledge 
of  such  changes  is  indispensable  to  a  study  of  the  older  rock  strata 
of  the  earth. 

The  common  change  of  pyrites,  forming  the  laain  ingredient  of 
the  upper  part  of  metallic  lodes,  to  earthy  red  or  brown  iron  ore, 
thus  producing  the  "gossan"  of  miners,  is  one  of  many  examples 
of  these  processes  now  in  progress.     Often  the  gossan  contains  dis- 
seminated silver  or  gold,  derived  from  the  decomposed  ores.     This 
is  a  case  of  pseudomorphism,  as  truly  as  when  a  simple  crystal  of 
pjTites  becomes  limonite ;  the  mode  of  change  and  its  laws  are 
the  same.   Again,  phosphates, 
vanadiates,     and     arseniates 
of  lead,  &c.,  as  well  as  car- 
bonates   and    sulphates,    are 
among   the    surface    species, 
or    those    that    occupy    the 
npper  part  of  metallic  lodes  ; 
they  are  the  results  of  altera- 
tion within   those  depths  to 
which    atmospheric  agencies 
penetrate. 

Pseudomorphs  are  always 
records  of  past  existences,  in 
some  cases  they  may  be  the 
only  evidence  we  possess  of 
such  prior  existence.  Tigs. 
238,  239  are  pseudomorphs 
of  quartz  or  homstone  after 
datholite ;  the  measured 
angles  of  these  crystals  show 
that  the  imitated  crystal  was 
datholite  ;  but  that  mineral 
does  not  now  occur  in  crystals 
of  either  of  these  forms. 

Tho  process  of  petrification 
of  organic  bodies  is  in  realitj' 
a  species  of  pscudomorphic 
formation,  and  has  been  pro- 
duced in  all  the  above  modes. 
External  and  internal  caste  of  organic  bodies  are  not  uncom- 
mon. In  other  cases  the  original  substance  has  been  replaced 
by  some  mineral  which  has  preserved,  not  merely  the  external 
form,  but  even  the  minutest  detail  of  internal  structure,— so  that 
the  different  kinds  of  wood  have  been  distinguished  in  their  silici- 
fied  trunks.  The  most  common  petrifying  substances  are  silica 
and  carbonate  of  lime.  In  encrinites,  echinites,  balemnites,  and 
other  fossils,  the  crystals  of  calc-spar  often  occur  in  veiy  regular 
positions.  In  some  varieties  of  petrified  wood  both  the  ligneous 
structure  and  the  cleavage  of  the  calc-spar  are  observable. 

Different  from  the  above  are  mineralized  bodies,  in  which  the 
original  structure  is  still  retained,  but  their  chemical  nature 
partially  changed.  In  these  a  complete  series  may  be  often  traced, 
as  from  wood  or  peat,  through  the  varieties  of  brown  coal, 
common  coal,  anthracite,  and  graphite. 

Cav3es   of  Change.— The   causes   of    change    are   the  Origin  o« 
simplest  and  most  universal  operations  about  us  : — (1)  the  P^^™j^ 
process  of  gradual  alteration  to  which  some  substances  are      ^ 
liable  on  account  of  the  presence  of  oxygen  and  carbonic 
acid  in  the  atmosphere,  and  the  reaction  of  substances  thus 
formed   on   adjacent  ingredients,  aided  or   promoted  by 
electrical  currents  or  by  heat;  (2)  the  solvent  power  of 
ordinary  waters,  cold  or  hot,  or  of  steam ;  (3)  reactions, 
in  accordance  with  chemical  principles,  of  the  ingredients 


Fig.  239. 


372 


MINERALOGY 


dissolved  in  these  waters,  or  in  mineral  or  sea  waters,  Lejited 
or  at  the  ordinary  temperature ;  (4)  the  action  of  gases  ex- 
haling from  the  earth  ;  (5)  changes  referable  to  volcanic 
action. 

Ordinary  waters  hold  in  solution,  as  is  well  known,  more  or  less 
,of  mineral  matter.  AVlicn  water  containing  carbonic  acid  is  passed 
throagh  a  large  number  of  ordinarily  occurring  miuerals,  it  gives 
evidence  of  the  presence  of  au  alkali,  or  lime,  or  magnesia;  and 
some  of  these  minerals  give  tho  tests  even  with  the  first  drops. 
Pure  water  gives  with  many  of  them  a  similar  result,  but  more 
slowly.  Limestone  in  forty-eight  hours  yields  soluble  ingredients 
^to  the  extent  of  0*4  to  1  per  cent,  of  the  whole  mass.  The  lime, 
magnesia,  and  alkalies  appear  in  the  condition  of  carbonates  ;  and 
the  iron  passes  from  the  state  of  carbonate-  to  that  of  peroxide 
iduring  evaporation.  The  silicates  of  magnesia,  lime,  and  man- 
ganese are  especially  ready  in  yielding  to  this  action.  Silica, 
however,  is  more  soluble  in  ordinary  than  in  carbonated  water. 
)L  These  facta  illustrate  two  important  points; — (1)  that  ordinary 
, waters  lying  upon  ond  filtering  through  the  earth's  crust  are 
constantly  active  in  dissolving  and  decomposing  minerals  and 
rocks,  and  that  even  species  reputed  indestructible  are  thus  acted 
upon  ;  and  (2)  that  the  waters  are  thus  furnishing  themselves  with 
agents  capable  of  effecting  other  chemical  changes.  These  waters 
penetrate  all  rocks,  as  well  as  percolate  through  soils.  Hence  the 
action  is  a  universal  one,  everywhere  going  on  ;  and  the  results  are 
universaL  Bones,  shells,  corals,  and  animal  remains  generaDy 
are  also  sources  of  carbonate  of  lime,  phosphates,  and  nuorides  ; 
iind  plants  may  contribute  also  potash  and  soda,  and  sometimes 
eUica.       _ 

Carbonic  acid  is  a  constant  ingredient  of  the  atmosphere,  and  is 
dissolved  by  the  ri\ins  as  they  descend ;  hence  this  active  de- 
composing agent  is  present  in  ail  ordinary  waters;  but  it  is  also 
a  result  of  ditTerent  mineral  changes.  Sulphate  of  iron  ^long 
with  vegetable  matters  gives  oxygen  to  the  carbon  of  the  vegetable 
matter,  and  thus  produces  carbonic  acid  and  pyrites  or  sulphuret 
of  iron  ;  and  the  large  quantities  of  pyrites  in  coal-beds  show  on 
how  grand  a  scale  this  process  has  taken  place.  Sulphate  of  zinc 
in  a  .similar  manner  produces  carbonic  acid  and  blende  or  sulphuret 
of  zinc,  Bischof  observes  that  the  carbonic  acid  which  has  thus 
been  eliminated  must  have  been  sufficient  in  quantity  to  make  an 
atmosphere  of  carbonic  acid  equal  in  height  to  our  present  atmo- 
sphere. Again,  decomposition  of  sulphurets  produces  sulphuretted 
hydrogen  ;  this  by  the  oxidating  action  of  the  atmosphere  forms 
sulphuric  acid,  and  the  sdlphuric  acid  acting  on  Hmestoue  produdes 
gypsum,  and  liberates  carbonic  acid.  Sulphurous  acid  is  also 
generated  in  the  neighbourhood  of  volcanoes,  and  rapidly  becomes 
sulphuric  acid,  with  the  same  result.  Moreover,  silica  in  waters,  if 
aided  by  heat,  will  decompose  limestone  and  liberate  carbonic  acid. 
Hence  it  is  that  this  gas  is  exceedingly  common  in  exhalations  from 
mineral  springs  ;  indeed  it  occurs  more  or  less  iu  all  watera. 

The  dissolving  and  decomposing  action  of  carbonated  waters  is 
therefore  general.  The  sea  also  partakes  of  this  character,  and,  iu 
Tirtue  of  the  numerous  salts  whicn  it  holds  dissolved,  is  a  powerful 
agent  in  carrying  on  the  changes  to  p-hich  the  process  leads.  Such 
changes  -ajid  the  various  pseuaomorphs  to  which  they  give  rise  have 
to  be  regarded  as  types  and  evidences  of  vast  metamorphic  transfor- 
mations,— processes  either  of  decav  or  of  reformation  which  have 
modified  widespread  rock-masses,  and  which  are  at  the  present 
time  altering  the  structure  of  the  crust  of  the  earth.  It  is  tnrough 
a  study  of  pseudoraorphs,  and  of  the  processes  which  have  gone  to 
form  thera,  that  mineralogy  is  to  become  the  germ  from  which 
alono  the  petrological  department  of  geology  can  have  its  true 
development,  and  become  a  living  instead  of  a  merely  speculative 
science. 

Physical  Propeetie3  of  Minerals. 
Characffrs  Dfjyfndiny  on  Light, 
.  Theie  are  few  more  interesting  departments  of  science 
than  the  relations  of  mineral  bodies  to  light,  and  the  modi- 
fications which  it  undergoes  either  when  piassing  through 
them  or  when  reflected  from  their  surface.  In  this  place, 
however^  wo  only  noticG  these  phenomena  so  far  as  they 
l>oint  out  distinctions  in  the  internal  constitution  of  miuerals, 
or  furnish  characters  for  distinguishing  one  species  from 
another. 
Lusrw  of  Zw5?rf.— Though  tho  varieties  of  lustre  admit  of  no  precise 
mtQcrals.  gr  mathematical  determination,  they  are  of  considerable 
value  in  mineralogy.  One  highly  important  distrnction 
founded  on  them  is  that  h)etween  minerals  of  metallic  and 
non-metallic  aspect  or  character.  Transparency  and  opacity 
nearly  coincide  with  this  division, — the  metallic  minerals 


beinf:  almny.t  constantly  opaque,  the  non-metallic  more  or 
less  transparent.  Minerals  which  are  perfectly  opaque, 
and  show  the  peculiar  brilliancy  and  opacity  of  surface  of 
polished  metals,  are  named  metallic  ;  those  which  possess 
the.se  properties  in  an  inferior  degree  are  semi-metallic; 
and  those  "without  these  firoperties  arc  non-meta.Uic. 

Lustre  has  reference  to  cither  tho  I'ntensity  or  tfie  quauty  of  the 
reflected  light,  considered  as  distinct  from  colour.  Several  degrees 
in  intensity  have  been  named:— (1)  splendent,  when  a  miiiiTal 
reflects  light  so  perfectly  as  to  be  visible  at  a  great  distance,  ai)d 
lively  and  well-defined  images  are  fomied  in  its  faces,  as  galenn, 
specular  iron,  or  cassiterite  ;  (2)  shining,  when  the  reflected  light 
is  weak,  and  only  forms  indistinct  and  cloudy  images,  as  heavy 
spar  or  calcito  ;  (3)  glistening,  when  the  reflected  light  is  so  ftcblo 
as  not  to  be  observable  at  a  greater  distance  than  arm's  luicth,  ajid 
no  longer  forms  an  image,  as  talc;  (4)  glimmering,  wncji  the 
mineral  held  near  the  eye  in  full  clear  daylight  presents  only  a 
number  of  small  shining  points,  as  red  b.cmatite  und  granular 
limestone.  When,  as  iu  chalk  or  kaolin,  the  lustre  is  so  feeble  as  to 
be  indiscernible,  the  mineral  is  said  to  be  dull. 

In  regaid  to  the  kind  or  quality  -of  the  lustre,  the  following 
varieties  are  distinguished  :—{l)  the  metallic,  seen  in  much  per- 
fection in  native  metals  and  their  compounds  with  sulphur,  and 
imperfectly  iu  glance  coat;  (2)  adamantine,  found  in  beautiful  pei^ 
fection  iu  the  diamond,  aud  in  some  varieties  of  blende  anjl 
cerussite  ;  a  modification  is  metallic  adamantine,  a^9  seen  in  wolfr^n 
and  black  cerussite  ;  (S)  vitreOus  or  glassy,  seen  in  rock  crystal,  or 
common  glass,  or,  inclining  to  adamantine,  in  flint  glass  ;  sub- 
vitreous  is  seen  in  broken  caJcite  ;  (4)  resinous,  when  the  body 
appears  as  if  smeared  with  oil,  as  iu  pitchstone,  blende,  and 
garnet  ;  (5)  waxy,  like  beeswax,  as  seen  in  wax-opal  and  ozocerite ; 

(6)  pearly,  like  mother-of-pearl,  seen  in  gyrolite,  talc,  heulandite  ; 

(7)  silky,  the  glimmering  lustre  seen  on  fine  fibrous  aggregates  like 
amianthus,  tremolite,  chrysotile,  krokidolite. 

These  degrees  aud  kinds  of  lustre  are  generally  exhibited  differ- 
ently by  unlike  faces  of  the  same  crystal,  but  always  similariy  by 
like  faces.  The  lateral  faces  of  a  right  square  prism  may  thus 
difl"er  in  lustre  from  that  of  a  terminal  face.  Thus  the  lustre  of  tho 
lateral  faces  of  apophyllite  is  vitreous,  while  that-  of  the  terminal, 
at  right  angles  thereto,  is  pearly  ;  chrysotile  is  silky  when  split 
along  the  fibres,  dull  when  at  rig'ht  angles  to  them. 

The  surface  of  a  cleavage  plane,  in  foliated  minerals,  generiiiij 
differs  in  lustre  from  the  sides ;  and  here  again  in  some  cases  the 
latter  are  vitreous,  while  the  former  is  pearly,  as  in  heulandite. 

As  shown  by  Haidinger,  only  the  vitreotfs,  adamantine,  ind 
metallic  lustres  belong  to  faces  perfectly  smooth  and  pure.  In  the 
fii-st,  the  index  of  refraction  of  the  mineral  is  1'.3  to  I'S;  in  tho 
second,  1  9  to  25  ;  in  the  third,  above  2"5.  The  pearly  lustre  is  a 
result  of  reflexion  from  numberless  lamellce,  or  cleavage  planes, 
within  a  translucent  mineral;  and  in  hydrated  minerals,  as  in  thtf 
zeolites,  it  is  the  result  of  incipient  change, — namely,  a  loss  of  water 
which  ensuea  upon  exposure  to  the  ahnosphere. 

Colour. — This  \s  a  property  wfiicb  is  ot  very  inferior  Colow. 
value.  Minerals  are  so  seldom,  if  ever,  absolutely  pure 
that  very  minute  quantities  of  an  intensely  coloured 
impurity  may  imimrt  colour  to  a  substance  inherently 
colourless,  or  overpower  a  feebler  colour  which  may  be 
its  own. 

Some  few  minerals  have  colour  so  strong,  or  have  a  constitution 
so  little  susceptible  of  intermixture,  tdat  thoy  retain  almost  unim- 
paired the  colour  sjiccial  to  theni.  Such  a  substance  is  pyritc  ;  its 
brass-yellow  colour  may  be  heightened  to  cold-yellow  by  intermixture 
with  copper  sulphide,  or  it  may  be  slightly  Ij'ci^^hcd  by  ai-senic  ;  but 
the  nature  of  its  composition  tloos  not  adndt  of  the  intrusion  of  oidl- 
naiy  colouring  iiigicdients.  The  yellow  of  native  goM,  again,  maybe 
l>aled  by  impoverishment  ^ith  the  white  of  mIvut,  down  to  the  dull' 
tint  of  elcctrum  ;  but  no  fort-ign  colouring  matter  can  intrude  itself 
into  a  metallic  mass.  Such  bnl>stanccs  as  thcsr,— native  uu-tals/ 
sulphidca,  and  oxides, — have  coloui-s  essential  to  them,  dci)cndeiit 
on  thoir  constitution,  and  to  a  gicat  extent  cha>-actctistic  of  tho 
species. 

A  second  class  of  minerals  are  colourless  of  themselves,  and  thus 
very  subject  to  the  influence  of  minute  quantities  of  foreign  tiuc- ' 
torial  impuritj'.  These  aio  absolutcl}'  transparent  and  devoid  of 
colour  wncn  in  crystals,  but  white  and  opa<ino  when  reduced  tD 
powder  ;  as  ice  and  snow,  calcito  and  cliaik,  rock-crystal  and 
sand.  But  surh  substances  arc  geneially  coloured  ;  "  muddied  "  it 
would  bo  called  in  the  first  case,  though  it  in  equally  so  with  tho 
othci-s.  Such  false  colour  may  be  inniartcd  in  several  ways.  It 
may  be  (1)  fi'oni  their  liolding  dissolveJ  some  colouring  matter  ;  (U) 
from  mechanical  mixture  of  colouring  substances  such  as  metallic 
o.NJdes,  or  minute  crystals  ( " cndoraorphs ")  o/another  mineral;  or 


MINERALOGY 


573 


/S)  from  chemical  replacement, — the  substitution  of  a  smaller  or  j 
larger  quantity  of  a  coloured  isomorphous  ingrcdieut. 

As  illustration  of  the  first,  silica,  colourless  in  rock-crystal,  has 
heen  fo\uid  of  almost  every  tint,  due  frequently  to  volatile  hydrocar- 
bons which  are  dissipated  by  heat.     Fluorite  also,  found  of  almost  I 
every  shade  of  every  colour,  may  possibly  bo  to  a  certain  extent 

referred  here.  '  - 

Quartz,  felspar,  and  calcite  are  often  coloured  accidentally  by 
imbedded  layers  of  foreign  "inclusions,"  or  by  " spangling  endo- 
tnorphs."  These  arc  mechanically  mixed,  so  far  as  regards  their 
prcsenci)  in  a  structure  of  different  and  nonassimilable  chemical 
comiiosition,  but  crystallographically  arranged.  They  either  mark 
the  lines  of  interrupted  or  intermittent  giowth;  or,  in  the  case  of 
endomonihs,  the  axial  positions  of  the  minute  intniding  foreign 
rrystals  lie  in  one  plane,  or  in  the  same  sets  of  planes. 
1^  As  an  instance  of  colours  introduced  through  definite  chemical 
axidaccraent,  calcite  may  be  cited.  Carbonate  of  lime  is  colourless  ; 
if  a  portion  of  this  be  replaced  by  carbonate  of  magnesia  there  is  a 
^rtain  amount  of  pearly  opacity  ;  if  by  carbonate  of  manganese, 
of  a  pink  tinge  ;  if  by  carbonate  of  iron,  of  yellow,  which  may  be 
increased  through  oxygen  absori»tion  and  "  weathering  "  to  an  ochre 
tint,  and  ultimately  to  a  dark  brown. 

Sulphurct  of  zinc,  chemically  white,  and  mincralogically  trans- 
parent, may,  through  metallic  substitution,  be  found  of  almost  all 
tiuts  of  yellow,  orange,  brown,  and  black.  Again,  hornblende, 
ftugite,  and  garnet,— silicates,  wliich  in  their  purest  states  of  tremo- 
lite,  malacolite,  and  water  garnet  arc  colourless, — acquire  green, 
b^o^vn,  red,  and  black  tints  from  the  assimilation  of  other  metallic 
•ilicites. 

I  Hence  it  would  appear  that  a  very  advanced  practical  know- 
ledge of  the  subject  is  necessary  to  enable  us  to  avail  ourselves 
«f  the  information  which  is  to  be  derived  from  this  external 
feature. 

The  accidentally  coloured  minerals  sometimes  present  two  or 
more  colours  or  tints,  even  in  a  single  crystal, — very  remarkable 
examples  occurring  in  iluor-spar,  ajiatite,  sapphire,  amethyst,  tour- 
maline, and  cvauite.  This  is  stilt  more  common  in  compound 
Diinerals,  on  which  the  colours  are  variously  an*angcd  in  points, 
streaks,  clouds,  veins,  striiios,  bauds,  or  in  brecciated  and  ruin-liko 
forms.  Some  minerals  again  change  their  colour  from  cxjK>suro  to 
light,  the  air,  or  danj[>.  Then  either  the  surface  alone  is  affected 
or  "tarnished,"  and  appears  covered  as  with  a  thin  film,  producing 
in  some  minerals,  as  silver  and  arsenic,  Duly  one  colour ;  in 
others,  as  chalcoi>yritc,  hnsmatitc,  bismuth,  stibine,  and  anthracite, 
.vario\is  or  iridescent  hues,  wlicn  they  are  said  to  have  a 
•pavonine  lustre.  Or  occasionally  the  change  pervades  the  whole 
mineral,  the-  colour  either  becoming  paler,  or  disappearing,  as  in 
chrysopraso  and  rose-quartz,  or  becoming  darker,  as  in  brown 
Bpar,  siderite,  and  rho<louite.  In  a  few  minerals  a  complete  change 
pf  colour  takes  pl.TCe,  .is  in  heterosite,  and  in  the  chlorophtcito  of 
^ho  Western  Isles  of  Scotland,  whidi,  on  exposure  for  a  few  hours, 
Iklsscs  from  a  transparent  yellow-green  to  black.  Tliese  mutations 
«re  generally  connected  with  some  chemical  or  physical  change, 
trhe  tarnished  colours  sometimes  only  appear  on  certain  faces  of  a 
Irrystal  belonging  to  a  peculiar  form.  Thus  a  crystal  of  copper 
liyrites  (like  tig.  89)  has  olio  face  F  free  from  tarnisli  ;  the  faces  b 
bnd  c,  close  to  F,  dark  blue;  the  remainder  off,  first  violet,  and 
llien,  close  to  P,  gold-yellow. 

^  Some  crystalline  minerals  exhioii  in  certain  directions  a  very 
lively  play  or  change  of  colours  from  reflected  light.  It  is  well  seen 
in  many  various  hues  on  the  cleavage-planes  of  labradorite^  and 
sei-ms  produced  by  a  multitude  of  very  thin  quadrangular  pores, 
interposed  in  the  mineral,  like  minute  parallel  laminrc.  On  the 
cleavage-planes  of  hyiiersthcne  ^  it  appears  coiiper-rcd,  and  is 
occasioned  by  similar  iwres,  or  by  iiunicrous  small  brown  or  black 
laroiiix  of  some  foreign  substance  interiHxsed  in  a  itaiallel  ix>sition 
between  the  planes  of  the  hyiier^thene.  The  cliatoyant  or  changing 
colours  of  tliu  sun-stone  arise  from  scales  of  Ineniatite  similarly  intor- 
|ioscd,  and  that  of  av.nnturiiie  from  scales  of  mica.  The  play  of 
colour  in  the  noble  oi>al  scciiis  lo  be  producvd  very  neatly  in  the  same 
manner  as  that  in  the  labradoritc.  A  similar  oi<ilesccncc  is  seen 
ill  certain  minerals  when  cut  in  )>articular  forms.  In  the  saiqdiire, 
ctlt  hemispherically  over  the  chief  axis,  it  appears  like  a  star  with 
six  rays;  in  garnet  it  shows  four  rays;  in  certain  varieties  of  chryso- 
b«ryl  andofadnlaria  it  has  a  bluish  lint:  and  it  is  also  very  remark- 
able in  the  cal's-eyo  variety  of  quartz.  Iridescence  often  arises  from 
very  fine  fissures,  producing  semicircular  arches  of  prismatic  tint.s, 
which,  like  the  colours  of  thin  plates  in  general,  arc  i-cferred  to  the 
iulcrfercncc  of  light. 

Jtreak.  Streak. — Tbis  name  is  applied  to  the  ajijiearance  and 
the  colbur  of  the  line  or  furrow  produced  in  minerals  by 
drawing  the  edge  of  a  hard-tempered  knife  or  file  along 
their  surface,  or  to  the  stain  obtained  by  rubbing  a  soft 
mineral  on  such  a  substance  as  paper  or  )>orcelaln.  Taken 
along  \vith  the  hardnebs,  which  may  to  a  certain  extent  be 


determined  by  the  same  operation,  it  is  one  of  the  most 
valuable  tests  which  we  possess. 

The  furrow  may  be  lustrous  or  it  may  bo  dull. '•' Powder  of 
splinters  may  lie  along  its  course,  or  a  still  adherent  ridge  may  havo 
been  merely  rolled  over.  The  fuiTow  and  the  powder  may  each  bo 
possessed  of  colour,  though*  such  may  not  be  distinguishable  in  the 
mineral,  or  may  havo  a  colour  quite  diflercnt  from  that  of  the 
mineral.  Three  illustrations  of  tnc  usefulness  of  this  test  may 
suffice.  Argentiferous  gold,  chalcopyrite,  and  pyiitc,  diflering 
immensely  in  value,  may  readily  oe  mistaken  for  each  other. 
The  knife,  when  drawn  along  the  surface  of  the  first,  sticks  in  it, 
ruts  up  an  adhering  ridge,  and  leaves  a  shining  streak  of  the  same 
colour  as  the  specimen.  When  drawn  along  tlie  second  it  ruts  up 
a  trench  covered  with  a  dusty  powder,  which  when  rubbed  on  paper 
or  in  the  hand  is  greenish  yellow.  \Vlien  diawn  along  the  third 
it  has  no  effect,  as  pyrite  is  harder  than  the  knife.  I'silomclane, 
haematite,  and  limonite  all  occur  in  black,  glossy,  stalactitic  fomu^ 
and  have  all  been  termed  '*  black  hiematitc."  There  is  here  also 
great  difference  in  the  value.  The  knife  makes  little  impression  on 
psilomelane,  but  leaves  a  blue  lustrous  line  ;  it  makes  a  blood-rcd 
line  in  htematite,  and  a  rich  ochre-ycllow  in  limonite.  Gra|>liit« 
and  molybdenite  both  crystallize  in  hcxaOTUal  plates,  both  occur  in 
the  same  rocks,  both  have  a  grey-black  colour  and  a  brilliant 
metallic  lustre,  both  stain  the  hands  or  j-apcr  ;  the  streak  of  tho 
first — best  seen  on  paper — is  black,  tending  to  blue  ;  that  of  the  last 
is  greenish.  Rough  porcelain  is  the  best  material  for  deteiTOining 
the  streak  of  soft  minerals. 

Diaphaneity. — Jlinerab,  and  even  different  specimens  of  Tram- 
the   same   species,    vary   much   in    this   quality.      Some  nnssion, 
transmit  so  much  light  that  small  objects  can  be  clearly^"**''' 
seen,  or  letters  read,  when  placed  behind  them  ;  such  are 
named  transparent.     They  are  seniitransparent  wjien  the 
object  is  seen  only  dimly,  as  through  a  cloud,  and  translu-' 
cent  when  the  light  that  passes  through  is  so  broken  that 
the  form  of  the  object  can  be  no  longer  'discerned ;  some 
minerals  are  only  thus  translucent  on  the  thinnest  edges. 
Others  transmit  no  light,  and  are  named  opaque. 

Refraction. — It  has  already  been  mentioned  that  most  Boubia 
crystals — all,  in  fact,  except  those  of  the  cubical  system—  rcfrac, 
ejdiibit    the    phenomena   of    double   refraction.      For   a       • 
general   explanation    of   these   phenomena   the  reader  is 
referred  to  Light,  vol.  xv.  p.  609  sq. 

The  direction  in  which  there  is  no  double  refraction  is  named  Opti^ 
the  optic  axis  of  the  crystal, — sometimes,  less  happily,  the  axis  of  ax;s, 
double  refraction.     Now  in  certain  minerals  it  is  found  that  there'' 
is  only  one  (Urection  with  this  property,  whereas  in  othcnj  there 
are  two  such  directions  ;  and  they  have  in  ronsei|Uence  b^en  divided 
into   nninxnl  and  biuaxal.     To  the  former  belong  all  crystals  of 
the  tetragonal  and  hexagonal  systems,  to  the  latter  all  those  of  the 
other  thi«e  systems.     In  the  foimer  the  optic  axis  coincides  with 
or  is  parallel  to  the  crystallographic  diief  axis.     In  some  uniax.il 
crystals  the  index  of  refraction  for  the  extradnliiiary  ray  is  great-T 
than  for  the  ordinary  ray  ;  and  in  otheis  it  is  smaller.     Accordiug 
as  it  is  greater  or  less  they  are  said  to  have  iiositive  (atti^ctive)  or 
negative  (repulsive)  double  refraction.  f-  ■\  ) 

(Juartz  is  an  example  of  the  former,  the  index  of  refraction,  accbnl- 
ing  to  Malus,  being  for  0-1-5484,  for  E-  l-5!;82;  calc-spar  of  tlio 
latter,  the  index  of  O  being  -1-6543,  that  of  E  14833.  The 
index  of  E  is  in  both  cases  takeu  at  its  maximum.  -   , 

It  should  be  observed  that  the  optic  axes  arc  not  single  lines,  bnt 
directions  parallel  td  a  line,  passing  through  every  jvirt  of  tho 
crystal.  It  is  also  important  to  remark  that  this  proiicrtv  divides 
crystals  into  three  precise  groups  : — the  cubic,  with  singly  refrac- 
tion ;  the  tetragonal  and  hexagonal,  w-ith  double  refraction,  and 
uniaxal ;  those  of  the  other  three  systems,  also  double,  but  binaxal.*; 
These  jiroix-rties  are  therefore  of  the  (.Tcatest  use  in  detei-miniag' 
the  system  to  wliich  a  mineral  belong. 

Polarization. — Intimately  connected  with  this   i>ropcrty  Pol,tri'a' 
is  that  of  the  i>olarization  of  light,  which  affords  an  easier  •""- 
means  of  determining  mineralogical  characteristics  than 
the  direct  study  of  double  refraction.     For  the  elements 
of  this  subject  see  Light,  vol.  xv.  p.  611  e-j. 

AVhile  a  consideration  of  the  optic  axes  enabled  us 
merely  to  arrange  the  systems  of  crystallization  in  thred 
groups,  the  phenomena  of  jiolarization  not  only  bear  out 
a  furtlier  subdivision  of  the  whole  into  the  above  ail 
systems,  but  disclose,  in  many  cases,  phenomena  markedly 
special  to  individual  species.  The  optical  consideration 
of  these  ijhenomena  enables  us  to  fix  three  directions  Jit 


'374 


MINERALOGY 


Axfs  of  rignt  angles  to  one  another — called  tlie  axes  of  optical  j 
optical     elasticity — such    that    the    effect    of    the    crystal   on   the  ' 
*}^^'"      luminous  vibrations  of  the  elastic  ether  is  a  maxiraiun  in 
'        one  of   these   directions,  a  minimum   in  "a  second,  and  a 
maximum-minimum   iu   the  third.     The   length  of   these 
axes  is  chosen  in  terms  of  this  action.      In  certain  cases 
the  direction  of  the  axes  of  optical  elasticity  is  different 
for  light  of  diffe  'ent  colours. 

The  position  of  these  axes  in  relation  to  the  crystalloCTaphicaxes, 
and  tho  ratios  of  their  lengths,  enahlo  ua  to  class  all  crystals  aa 
follows: — 

1.  Crystals  of  the  cubic  system.  Here  the  three  axes  of 
elasticity  are  all  equal.     The  refraction  is  siiuplo. 

2.  Crystals  of  the  tetragonal  and  of  the  rhombohedral  systems. 
Two  of  the  axes  of  optical  elasticity  are  equal  iij  these  systems ;  the 
third  is  greater  or  less  according  as  the  crystals  are  negative  op 
positive.  Tho  t^o  equal  axes  lie  in  a  plane  perpeudicular  to  tho 
principal  crystallograuhic  axes ;  the  third  axis  ooincides  with  the 
principal  axis. 

3.  Crystals  of  tho  right  prismatic  system.  Tlio  direction  of  the 
three  axes  of  optical  elasticity  coincides  with  the  crystallogiaphic 
axes,  taken  parallel  to  the  diagonals  of  the  base  of  the  rhombo- 
hedron,  and  to  the  vertical  edge  of  the  prism  (the  primitive  parallel- 
epiped of  Levy). 

4.  Crystals  of  the  oblique  prismatic  system.  Only  one  of  tho 
axes  of  optical  elasticity  coincides  necessarily  with  the  crystallo- 
graphical  horizontal  axis,  or  the  diagonally  horizontal  axis  of  tliQ 
rhombic  base,  the  direction  of  the  j  two  others  not  having  any 
evident  relation,  a  pnori,  with  the  inclined  or  diagonally  inclined 
axis  of  the  base,  and  with  tho  vertical  axis  (or  verticsd  edge  of 
the  primitive  parallelepiped). 

5.  Crystals  of  the  anorthic  system.  The  three  axes  of  optical 
elasticity  have  no  relation  that  can  be  assigned  a  priori  to  the 
crystal! ographic  axes,  whatever  position  may  be  assigned  to  these 
in  relation  to  the  primitive  solid 

In  crystals  belonging  to  the  last  three  systems  the  three  axes  of 
elasticity  are  unequal. 

Tho  axes  of  elasticity  are  in  general  such  that  a  ray  passing 
through  tho  crystal  in  the  direction  of  any  one  of  them  is  divided 
into  two,  which  follow  that  direction  with  different  velocities 
depending  on  the  lengths  of  the  other  two  axes.  To  iny  other 
direction  there  will  in  general  also  correspond  two  difTorent 
velocities ;  but  their  ratio  will  now  depend  in  a  more  complex 
manner  on  all  three  axes.  In  two  directions  (and  only  in  two,  if 
the  axes  are  all  unequal)  the  ratio  becomes  unity,  or  the  ray  is  not 
divided.     These  directions  are  the  optic  axes. 

The  displacement  of  the  axes  of  elasticity  for  light  of  different 
colours,  already  mentioned,  takes  place  for  two  axes  in  crystals  of 
the  oblique  prismatic  system  and  for  all  tliree  axes  in  tho  anorthic 
{i.e.,  doubly  oblique)  system.  In  tho  other  systems  it  does  not 
occur. 
Colour  In  order  to  follow  the  distinctive  features  of  the  different  systems 
pheno-  farther,  it  is  necessary  to  consider  the  ci^our  phenomena  which 
jnena,  they  display,  when  examined  in  a  beam  of  polarized  light.  Vari- 
ous instruments  have  been  devised  for  this  pui'posc,  as,  e.g.,  the 
polarizing  apparatus  of 
Norreiiberg,  htted  with 
a  condensing  lens  below 
and  above  the  crystal 
slice,  or  with  a  low- 
.  power  (3-incli)  eye-piece. 
The  polarisGope  of  Hoft'- 
man  of  Paris  is  more 
efficient,  but  the  apja- 
fatus  of  Deacloizeaux 
(fi^.  240},  who  has  made 
this  modo  of  irivestiga- 
tion  a  special  study,  lias 
the  widest  scope  of  use- 
fulness. In  this  appa- 
ratus a  blackened  mirror 
is  employed  for  polariz- 
ing tho  light,  taking  tho 
place  of  a  tourmaline 
plate,  a  Nicol's  prism, 
or  a  bundle  of  thin  glass. 
The  mirror  is  inferior 
to  tho  other  two  in  completeness  of  polarizing  power,  and  in  not 
admitting  of  rotation  ;  while  it  shares  tliis  defect  with  tho  last. 
It  in,  however,  Huperior  to  all  in  extent  of  field, 
not,  liko  tho  tirat,  alTect  whili>  light.  A  Nicol's  pr 
examining  or  analysing  the  light  which  passes. 

The  descrintion  of  the  many  beautiful  phenomena  that  may  bo 
observed  witri  polarizing  apparatus  when  applied  to  sections  of 
crystals  belongs  to  the  subject  of  Optics  (Puysical),  to  which 


Via.  240. — Apparatus  of  Descloizeaux. 


ivhilo  it  d( 
J  used  for 


.^'"W^ 


heading    also  we    rjr.st    refer    for    the    phcuumOTa    of    circular 
polaiization. 

Double  Jiefraclion  and  Polarization  of  Composue  Crystals.— h.  •'t''-- 
all  tho  crystallized  bodies  whoso  action  upon  light  we  have  beei.  l^rope^ 
considering,  tlie  phenomena  are  identical  m  all  parallel  directions,  ''-ea  of 
the  smallest  fragment  having  the  same  property  as  the  largest,  compoiite 
from  whatever  part  of  tho  crystal  it  is  taken.     In  the  mineral  cryatala. 
world,  however  (and  among  tho  products  of  artificial  crj'stalliza- 
tion),  there  occur  crystals  which  are  composed  of  several  individual 
crystals  whose  axes  are  not  parallel.      These  crystals  sometimes 
occur  in  such  regular  symmetrical  forms  that  mineralogists  have 
long  regarded  them  as  simple  forms ;  and  it  is  probable  that  they 
would  have  still  been  so  viewed  if  they 
had  not  been  exposed  to  the  scrutiny  of 
polarized  light. 

A  composite  structure  has  been  on 
served  in  the  case  of  Brazilian  topa/, 
sulphate  of  potash,  and  apophyliitr 
Bipyramidal  sulphate  of  potash,  whi'  ' 
Count  Boui'non  supposed  to  be  a  siiiiil 
crystal,  was  found  to  be  a  tesselat^l 
crystal,  composed  of  three  pairs  of  crystal 
of  the  prismatic  sulphate  of  potash  coin 
bined  so  that  each  pair  had  their  principal 
axes  parallel.  When  exposed  to  polarized 
light,  each  pair  gave  the  system  of  biuaxal 
rings,  and  when  held  at  a  distance  from 

the    eye  had  the   tesselated  appearance  shown  in  fig.  241,  each 
opposite  pai'"  of  the  triangles  having  the  same  tint. 

The  most  remarkable  of  this  class  of  minerals  is  the  tesselated 
apophyllite.  The  examination  of  this  body  by  polarized  light  is 
duo  to  Brewster.  For  his  results  the  reader  is  referred  to  his  paper 
in  tho  Edinburgh  Transactions,  vol.  ix.  p.  323. 

Figs,  242,  243  are  representations  of  the  figure  produced  in- 
polarized  light  by  an  internal  slice  of  the  barrel  or  cylindrical 


Fig.  241. 


Fig.  242.  Fig.  243. 

apophyllite  from  Kudlisaet,  m  Diaco  Islana.  The  figiires  are  from 
different  specimens.  The  shaded  part  of  them  has  only  one  axis 
of  double  refraction,  while  the  foiu-  sectors  have  two  axes.  The 
mechanical  structure  of  the  cleav- 
age planes  resembles  the  optical 
figure  even  after  the  planes  are 
ground. 

Tho  minerals  stilbite,  heuian- 
tlite,  chabasito,  and  many  others, 
arc  similarly  complex  in  struc- 
ture. 

Crystals  with  Planes  of  Double 
Refraction. — Analcime,  a  mineral 
ranked  among  tho  cubical  crys- 
tals, was  found  by  Brewster  to  bo 
singular  in  its  action  upon  light, 
and  to  exliibit  tho  extraordinary 
ju-operty  of  many  planes  of  double 
refraction,  or  planes  to  which  the 
double-refracting  structure  was  related  in  the  same  manner  as  it  is 
to  one  or  two  axes  in  other  minerals.  It  crystallizes  most  com- 
monly in  tho  form  of  the  icositetrahedron.  If  wo  suppose  a  com- 
plete crystal  of  it  to  bo  exposed  to  polniizod  light,  it  wdl  give  the 
remarkable  figvire  shown  m  fig.  244,  where  the  dark  shaded  lines 

represent  planes  iu  wliich  there  is  neither  

double  refraction  nor  polarization, — the 
double  refraction  and  tho  tints  commcnoin^ 
at  thcso  planes,  and  reaching  their  maxitnutn 
in  tho  centre  of  the  smce  enclosed  by  three 
of  tiio  dark  lines.  Wlieu  light  is  trans- 
mitted through  any  pair  of  the  four  planes 
which  are  adjacent  to  any  of  the  three  axes 
of  the  solid,  it  is  doubly  refracted,  the  least 
refracted  image  being  tho  extraordinary  one, 
and  consequently  the  double  refraction  nega- 
tive in  relation  to  the  axes  to  which  the  doubly-refracted  ray  is 
perpendicular.     If  we  suppose  the  crystal  to  have  the  form  of  A 


Fig.  244. 


Fjg.  ::4i 


MINERALOGY 


375 


eotw,  :h-  p'uu  of  doabla   rafnctioa  will  be,  u  in  fig.  24S,  t 
pliin<  ;~--'-V  chroogfa  tl»  two  diagonals  of  aach  tact  of  the  cub*. 

The'tioti  Tary  a*  the  iqiiate  of  the  Hiit»nim  from  tli<  neanat  plana 
of  double  rafnictioD. 

rifiKKroim. — Closely  connected  with  double  refraction 
ia  that  property  of  transparent  minerals  named  pleochroism 
(of  many  colour!)),  in  consequence  of  which  they  exhibit  dis- 
tinct colours  when  viewed  by  transmitted  light  in  different 
directions.  Crystals  of  the  cubic  system  do  not  show 
this  property,  whilst  in  those  of  the  other  systems  it 
appears  in  more  or  less  perfection, — in  tetragonal  and 
hexagonal  minerals  as  dichroism  (two  colours),  in  the 
rhombic  and  clinic  systems  as  trichiroism  (three  colours). 
lo  most  cases  these  changes  of  colour  are  not  very  decided, 
and  appear  rather  as  different  tints  or  shades  than  as 
distinct  colours.  The  most  remarkable  of  dichromatic 
minerals  are  the  magnesian  mica  from  Vesuvius,  the  tour- 
maline, and  ripidolite ;  of  trichromatic,  iolite,  andalusite 
from  Brazil,  diaspora  from  Scbemnitz,  and  axinite. 

In  a  specimen  of  yellow  Iceland  rpor  the  extratTrdinary  image  ia 
of  an  orange. yoUow  colour,  while  the  ordinary  image  is  yellowish 
white.  AloDg  the  axis  of  double  refraction  the  colour  of  the  two 
pencils  is  exactly  the  same,  and  the  difference  of  colour  increases 
with  the  inclination  of  the  refracted  ray  to  the  axis.  This  is 
the  invariable  law  of  the  phenomena  in  nniaial  crystals.  Sir 
John  Hcrschol  found  several  (ourmalinea  to  have  a  blood-red 
colour  along  the  axis,  and  at  right  angles  to  it  to  be  yellow -green. 
Then  can  bo  little  doubC  that  this  property  will  bo  found  in  every 
crystal  of  sul&cient  retraction.  Even  if  the  crystal  is  colourless, 
•  slight  inequality  in  the  intensitv  of  the  two  images  may  be 
oSeervcd ;  and  when  it  is  distinctly  coloured  the  diSerence  of 
intoDiiity  is  very  easily  seen,  even  when  the  two  colours  are  not  of 
a  ditfcruat  kind. 

The  phenomena  of  dichroism  are  best  seen  in  crystals  with  two 
axes  of  double  refraction,  and  are  well  exemplified  in  iolite,  a 
mineral  which  crystallizes  in  six-  or  twelve-aided  prisms.  These 
prisms  are  of  a  deep  blue  colour  when  seen  along  the  axis,  and  of 
a  yellowish  brown  colour  when  viewed  in  a  direction  perpendicular 
to  it 

If  nbi^  (fig.  148)  is  a  section  of  the  prism  of  iolite  in  a  plane 
parallel  to  the  axis  of  the  urism,  the  ti-aosmitted  light  will  be  blue 
through  the  faces  ab  and  ac,  and  yellowish  brown 
through  ad,  6c,  and  in  every  direction  perpendicu- 
lar to  the  axi^  of  the  prism.  If  we  grind  down 
the  angles  a,  c,  A,  (i,  ao  as  to  replace  them  with 
faces  iMH,  ni'n'  and  op,  </p',  inclined  31'  41'  to  ad, 
or  to  the  axis  of  tlie  prism,  then,  if  the  plane 
»ied  passes  through  the  optic  axes,  ne  shall 
obaerve,  by  trausmittiug  polari2e<l  light  through     .i\  /'' 

the  crystal  in  the  directions  ac,  bd,  and  aubae-  »  «'^ 
^nentty  analyaiu^  it,  a  aystem  of  rings  round  ooch  *"'g-  24*. 
of  three  a-tes.  The  syitom  will  exhibit  the  individual  rings  very 
plainly  if  the  crystal  is  thin ;  but  if  it  Is  thick,  we  shall  observe, 
when  the  plane  ahai  is  perpendicular  to  the  plane  of  primitive 
polarization,  some  branches  of 
blue  and  white  light  diverging 
in  the  form  of  across  from  the 
cootiT  of  the  system  of  rings, 
or  the  potoi  of  no  [polarization, 
as  shotrn  at  /'  and  p  (fig.  247), 
whoro  the  shaded  branches 
irprrscnt  the  blue  ones.  The 
summits  of  the  bluo  masses 
an)  tipfii.Hl  with  purple,  and 
nn.'  ».  Ml  itod  by  n'hitish  light 
ill  ■{ccimons  and  vellow- 

i.'  Ill  othcre.     The  white 

li^li*.  1  ■:■  oinos  more  hlue  from 
^o  and  //  to  o,  where  it  is  quito 
blur,  and  more  yellow  from  p 
and  p'  lo  c  anil  >/,  where  it  is 
roni|.I.t>lyj-cllow.  Wicn  the 
phiii-  '('.-.( 13  in  the  plane  of  primitive  polarization,  the  poles  p,  ^ 
art  niiik«l  by  s]iots  of  whits  light,  but  everywhere  else  the  light 
is  a  -I'-cp  bluo. 

Ill  tlio  plane  atHb  (fig.  247)  the  mineral,  when  we  look  through 
dt  by  common  light,  exhibits  no  other  colour  but  yellow,  mixed 
with  a  small  iiiiaiitity  of  blue,  polarizeil  in  ai>opiwsitr  pisne.  The 
•nlinarv  image  at  cand  rf  is  yellowish  brown,  and  the  extraordinary 
image  faint  blue,  the  former  receiving  aorae  blue  ravs  and  the 
latter  some  yellow  ones  from  candifton  and  6,  whore  the  ditlorenco 
,«f  colour  is  still  wrll-markod.  The  yellow  image  becomes  fainter 
tnm  a  and  i  to  p  and/,  till  it  chaugea  into  blue,  and  the  faint  blue 


r 


im«g«  ia  itrcngthened  by  other  blue  nyn,  tiD  the  intensity  ofthe  two 
blue  inugn  ia  nearly  er|aal.  As  the  incident  rmy  adTUc«s  fVoro  o 
and<itopand/f',  the  faint  bine  image  becomea  more  intenae,  and  tho 
yellow  one.  receinng  an  acceaaion  of  blue  raya,  becomes  of  a  bloiah 
white  colour.  The  ordinary  imafra  ia  wbituh  from  p  and  j/  to  o^ 
and  the  oxtraordinary  ia  aeep  blue ;  but  the  whtteneaa  gTadually 
diminiahea  towarda  o,  when  they  are  both  almoat  equally  blue. 

The  principal  axis  of  double  refraction  in  iolif'c  ia  negative.  The 
moat  refracted  imaga  ia  ourpUah  blue,  and  the  Icaat  refracted  ono 
yellowish  brown. 

Brewster  found  that  the  dichroism  of  aereral  crystals  ia  changed 
by  heat,  and  that  in  some  coses  this  property  may  bo  commnni- 
catiMl  to  them.  Babinet  foand  that  all  negative  cryatals,  such  us 
calcorvoua  spar,  corundum  (including  ruby  and  sapphire),  tour- 
maline, and  emerald,  absorb  in  a  greater  degree  the  ordinary  ray, 
with  the  exception  of  beryl,  apatite,  and  some  apophyllites  ;  wbila 
poaitive  crystals,  such  aa  zircon,  smoky  quarti,  sulphate  of  limu, 
and  common  apophylUte,  absorb  in  a  greater  degree  the  cxtroonli- 
nary  ray-  Babinet  foujd  also  that  certain  crystals,  such  as  red 
tourmaline  and  ruby,  transmit  nya  of  their  peculiar  colour  without 
being  polarized, — in  which  caaea  the  black  croaa  of  their  system  of 
riof^  IS  coloured,  and  this  nnpolarixad  light  exists  both  in  th« 
ordinary  and  extraordinary  ray. 

Hiiiduigor  devised  an  instrument  for  showing  ana  for  testing  tha 
pleochroism  of  minerals.  In  fif.  248,  p  is  an  oblong  cleavage- 
rhombohedron  of  Iceland  spar  which  has  two  glass  priama  v,w  of 


Fia  24S.— Section  of  Dichroiscopa. 

18*  cemented  to  its  ends  with  Canada  balsam.  This  combination 
ia  placed  in  a  motallio  case,  which  has  a  convex  lens  /  at  ono  end 
and  a  square  hole  o  about  the  fifteenth  of  on  inch  in  width  at  tho 
other.  The  lens  is  of  a  focal  distance  which  shows  an  object  held 
about  half  an  inch  from  the  square  hole. 

On  looking  through  the  lens  and  priama  two  imagea  of  the  aqnars 
hols  are  seen  just  toucliing  each  other.  The  Tight  of  tho  one 
image  is  notarized  in  the  plane  which  intersects  the  short  diagonal 
ofthe  prism  ;  that  of  the  other  is  polarized  in  the  plane  of  tho 
longer  diagonal.  When  a  pleochroic  crystal  or  fragment  is  held  at 
focal  distance  and  examined  by  transmitted  light,  then,  on  tha' 
turning  of  the  instrument  bringing  the  polarization  of  its  planes  into 
coincidence  with  those  of  the  crystal,  the  two  iniagea  of  tho  aqoars 
opening  will  show  the  coloura  of  the  oppositely  polarizod  pencila  of 
which  tho  light  transmitted  by  tho  crystal  is  compoaed;  this 
conatitutea  its  pleochroism.  The  dichroism  is  then  seen  by  looking 
through  tho  crystal  in  one  direction  only,  and  the  contrast  of  tho 
two  coloun  ia  made  more  obvioua. 

Phosphortacfnct. — This  is  the  property  possessed  by  par-  Phospfaoi) 
ticular  nunerals  of  emitting  light  in  certain  circumstancer. 
without  combustion  or  ignition. 

Thus  some  minerals  appear  liuninoua  when  taken  into  tho  dark,'^ 
after  being  for  a  time  exposed  to  the  sun's  rays  or  even  to  the  ordi- 
nary daylight.  Many  diamonds,  and  also  calcined  barytas,  exhibit^ 
this  property  in  a  remarkable  degree  ;  less  so  aragotrito,  calcsrar,' 
and  chalk.  Many  minerals,  incmding  tho  giTator  part  cf  thoao 
thus  rendered  phosphorescent  by  the  influence  of  the  ttun,  also 
become  so  through  heat  Thua  some  topazes,  diamonds,  and  varie- 
ties  of  fluor-spar  become  luminous  by  tho  heat  of  tlie  hand  ;  other 
varietit's  of  tliior-spar,  and  jphosphoiito,  require  a  teraperatufo  near 
that  of  boiling  water  ;  whilst  calc-spar  and  mahy  silicates  arc  only 
ph4Wphorc!k-ent  at  from  400*  to  700*  Fahr. 

imectrictty  produces  phosphorescence  in  some  minerals,  **  i'* 
green  tluor-spar  and  calcined  DarytcK  In  othcra  it  ia  excited  whra 
thoy  aro  stiiick,  rubbed,  split,  or  broken  ;  as  in  many  varietioa  uf 
zinc-blende  and  dolomite  when  scratched  with  a  quill,  pieces  of 
quartz  when  rubbed  on  each  other,  and  plates  of  mica  or  needles  of 
peotoUto  when  suddenly  separated. 

The  light  emitted  by  phosphorescent  minerals  is  of  v^ous  tinto,! 
Tho  variety  of  fluor  called  chlorophano  emits,  as  its  name  oxpreeses; 
a  green  light  Tlio  aame  particle  mav  emit  varying  tint.s  as  in  tho 
fluor  from  Aberdeenahire,  which,  as  tlio  heat  falls,  or  the  onerpy  of 
tho  phosphorescence  wanes,  emits  tints  wliich  pass  from  nolot, 
through  oluo,  green,  and  yellow,  to  dull  purplish  red.  The  yellow 
blonde  from  the  same  place  ia  vividly  phosphorescent  when  heatsiT. 
Fluor  generally  phoapboroscea  with  a  tint  of  its  o^ni  colour. 

Too  nigh  a  beat  destroya  tho  pLoaphorcacence,  which  may,  hpW- 
.arsTf^bo  rsstond  by  either  exposure  to  aun'a  light  or  to  elsctridty- 


676 


MINERALOGY 


Fhior- 

esoence 


Electric 
proper- 
ties of 
mneral: 


«leetri- 
citj- 


Whe  mineral  pnosphorescea  viTidly  when  the  dischar^  passes 
feiroagh  it ;  it  generally  nhosphorescea  with,  a  different  colour  after 
It  has  been  thus  recharged. 

Fluorescence  is  the  property  whereby  rays  of  light  of  a 
refrangibility  higher  than  those  ordinarily  seen  by  the 
human  eye  are  rendered  visible.  The  substance  when 
placed  in  the  violet  end  of  the  speptnun,  and  carried  be- 
yond it  into  the  in\isible  rays,  becomes  luminous,  through 
"degrading"  the  rays  of  extreme  refrangibility.  This 
j)roperty  is  well  marked  in  those  varieties  of  fluorite  which 
are  pale  green  by  transmitted  light,  and  deep  purple  by 
reflected  light.  Ozocerite  and  some  petroleums  also  ex- 
hibit the  property. 

Electric^  Magnetic,  and  Thermic  Properties. 
Electricity. — Friction,  pressure,  and  heat  may  all  excite 
electricity  in  minerals.  To  observe  this  property  delicate 
electroscopes  are  required,  formed  of  a  light  needle  iermin- 
ating  at  both  ends  in  small  balls,  and  suspended  horizon- 
tally on  a  steel  pivot  by  an  agate  cup.  Such  an  instrument, 
can  be  electrified  negatively  by  touching  it  with  a  stick  of 
lealing-wax  excited  by  rubbing,  or  positively  by  merely 
bringing  the  wax  so  near  as  to  attract  the  needle.  When 
the  instrument  is  in  this  state,  the  mineral,  if  also  rendered 
electric  by  heat  or  friction,  will  attract  or  repel  the  needle 
according  as  it  has  acquired  electricity  of  an  opposite  or  of 
I  a  similar  kind;  but  if  the  mineral  is  not  electric  it  will 
attract  the  needle  in  both  conditions  alike. 

Most  precious  stones  become  electric  from  friction,  and  are  either 
positive  or  negative  according  as  their  surface  is  smooth  or  rough. 
Ail  gems  become  positive  when  polished  ;  the  diamond  even  when 
unpolished  is  positive.  Pi-essure  between  the  fingers  will  excite 
distinct  positive  electricity  in  piecesof  transparent  double-refracting 
calc-spar.  Topaz,  aragonite,  fluor'spar,  ^arljouate  of  lead,  quartz, 
and  other  minerals  show  this  property,  but  in  a  much  smaller 
degree.  Some  bodies  remain  excited  much  longer  than  others, 
topaz  for  a  very  long  time.  Heat  or  change  of  temperature  excites 
electricity  in  many  crystals  ;  as  iu  tourniahue,  calamine,  topaz,  calc- 
spar,  beryl,  barytes,  fluor-spar,  diamond,  garnet,  and  others  ;  these 
are  hence  said  to  be  thermo-  or  pyro-eleatric  Some  acquire  polar 
pyro-eloctricity,  or  tlie  two  electricities  appear  in  opposite  parts  of 
the  crystal,  which  are  named  its  electric  poles.  Each  pole  is  alter- 
nately positive  and  negative,  the  one  when  the  mineral  is  heating, 
the  other  when  it  is  cooling.  Hankel's  investigations  of  these 
phenomena  are  specially  noteworthy. 

As  already  noticed,  many  polar  electric  minerals  are  also  remark- 
able for  their  hemimorphic  crystal  forms.  Tourmaline,  calamine, 
and  boracite  are  among  the  species  thus  affected.  The  polarity 
continues  so  long  as  the  temperature  is  increasing,  and  becomes 
reversed  when  it  commences  to  decline  ;  and  wlien  the  heat  is 
stationary  it  disappears. 

Rose  and  Reiss  name  one  of  the  poles  the  analogue  electric  pole, 
and  the  other  the  antilogne  electric  pole.  Tlie  former  becomes 
positive  while  the  crystal  is  heating,  and  negative  while  cooling  ; 
the  latter  negative  while  heating,  and  positive  while  cooling. 
^ecquerel  found  that  in  tourmaline  at  30"  C.  electrical  polarity 
pas  sensible;  it  continued  undianged  to  150^  as  long  as  the 
Ijgmperature   continued    to    rise ;    if   the    temperature    remained 


■fil  249.  Fig.  250. 

stationary  an  instant,  the  polarity  disay.pearcd,  but  shortly  mani- 
foeted  itself  reversed,  when  the  temperature  commenced  to  decline. 
If  but  one  end  of  the  crystal  was  heatwl  tlio  crystal  was  nnpohirized, 
and  when  two  sides  were  unequally  heated  each  acquired  an  olcctii- 
cal  st.ite  independent  of  the  other.  In  tourmaline  the  extremities 
of  the  prism  arc  dissiniilavly  modified,  and  that  end  wliich  pn 
tlie  greater  number  of  planes  is   tlic   antiloguo  pole 


if  tht 


niunner  of  puaes  is  the  same,  tne  secondary  rtiomboneorona  ol  tha 
antiloguo  polo  have  (one  or  more  of  them)  loneer  vertical  axes  than 
those  of  the  analomie  pole.  P"ig.  249  (tourmaline)  ia  tho  antilogue 
pole  (negative  unaer  increasing  heat),  and  fig.  250  tho  analogue 
pole.  The  pyramid  of  the  analogue  end  ia  more  flattened  by  its 
facets  than  that  of  the  antilogue  end  ;  thus  e"  and  d^  of  the  anti- 
logue end  are  more  acumi- 
nating than  «'  and  tP  of  tht 
analogue  end-  The  same  i; 
the  case  with  the  other  twc 
crystals  (figs.  251,  252). 

Pyro-electricity  has  been  \ 
observed  in  the  following 
substances  :  —  tourmaline, 
topaz,  axinite,  boracite, 
Bcolezite,  prehnite,  electric 
calamine,  sphene,  rbodizite, 
heavy  spar,  rock-crystal. 

Pyro-electricity  ia  of  two 
kinds,— either  terminally 
polar  or  centrally  polar. 
In  the  former  the  extre- 
mities are  opposite  poles. 
In  the  latter  two  sides  of 
a  prism  are  of  the  same 
name,  and  the  opposite  pole 
to  each  is  intermediate  be- 
tween the  two. 

The  examples  of  the  first  kind  are  tourmaline,  calamine,  and 
scolezito,  which  are  uniaxal ;  axinite,  binaxal ;  boracite  and 
rbodizite,  with  four  axes.  Calapiine,  like  tourmaline,  has  th« 
sharper  extremity  the  antilogue 
end,  and  the  more  flattened  the 
analogue.  Compound  crystals 
from  Altenberg  have  both  ends 
analogue,  and  the  portion  which 
lies  between  the  twins  antilogue 
electric  ;  the  pyro-electric  axis 
corresix)nds  with  the  vertical  axis 
of  the  prism,  as  in  tounnaline. 
Boracite,  which  crystallizes  in 
cubic  forms,  with  the  opposite 
solid  angles  differently  modified, 
has  four  pyro-electric  axes,  corre- 
sponding to  the  four  octahedral 
axes.     In  fig.  253  of  this  species, 

j^j,  the  pUne  which  has  its  angles  modified  by 

V  is  the  antilogue  pole,  and  that  with  tho 


Fig.  252. 


Fig.  25a 


Fig.  254. 

unmodified  angles  the  analogue  pole  ;  and,  generally,  the  antilogue 
pole  has  either  more  numerous  or  larger  facets.  Rbodizite  re- 
sembles boracite  in  its  pjTo-electricity. 

The  species  in  which  pyro-electricity  of  the  second  kind  has  been 
observed  are  ]>rohnito  and  toixiz.  If  fig.  254  represent  a  tabular 
crystal  of  prehnite,  tho  poles  will  be  situated  as  marked,  the 
analogue  being  central,  and  the  antilogue  at  either  extremity  of 
the  shorter  diagonal  of  tho  rhombic  prism.  Topaz  has  in  a  similar 
manner  a  central  onaloguo  polo,  and  an  antilogue  at  either  ex- 
tremity of  tho  shorter  diagonal.  In  some  instances  there  is  a 
separate  set  of  similar  poles  near  one  or  the  other  angle,  as  in  fig. 
255  ;  this  must  bo  dne  to  tho  crystals  being  ol  a  composite  nature. 

Magndisni. — This  property  is  very  characteristic  of  the  Magiv*i 
few  minerals  in  which  it  occurs, — chiefly  ores  of  iron  or '*'"• 
nickel.  Some  magnetic  iron  ores  possess  polar  magnetism* 
or  are  natural  magnets  ;  while  the  conunon  varieties  of 
magnetite,  meteoric  iron,  magnetic  pyrites,  precious  garnet, 
and  other  minerals,  are  simply  magnetic.  Most  minerals 
are  only  attracted  by  the  magnet,  but  do  not  themselves 
attract  iron. 

Minerals,  as  other  sub.stances,  have  also  b«en  divided  into 
magnetic  and  diamagnctic.     See  Magnetism. 

Tho  ordinary  modo  of  testing  whrtlicr  a  mineral  is  magnetic  o* 
not  is  to  bring  it  near  a  pole  of  a  delicately  su.spended  m.if'netio 


MINERALOGY 


377 


stUe 
jwlarty. 


Hot 

«QBd'J< 

nvitj- 


Sum- 
aioDi's 


Beadle,  and  dbeerre  wbether  it  caiues  it  to  vibrate.  Another  mode 
if  to  apply  a  strong  magnet  to  the  mineral  in  powder.  These  are 
gofficient  for  the  minoralogist,  Delesse  has  experimented  exten- 
rively  npon  the  magnetic  force  of  minerala,  and  has  determined 
the  relative  amount  for  numerous  species.  Calling  this  force  for 
Styrian  steel  100,  the  following  are  some  of  his  results  : — 

Natlm  platlnnm _ _.. .—..--.....  2178  lo  3-047 

liwnetic  Iron  ore -..- ___....™..16'00  to  tSOO 

rtvnUJDlte.  from  the  United  SUtea. .. «.. 1-0S8 

CbromJc  Iron - « . 0'186  to  0-0C5 

Spinel  (pleonaste),  from  HonzODt  Tyrot - 0-078 

Tlumic  Iron  {rhombohedral),  often  magnellpolar. 6764 

Spocolar  Iron,  Bomettmea  mai^ietipolar. ,..,_ 0'14  to  3*35 

Graphite. 0015  to  0040 

Spathic  Iron  (spheroslderlte,  the  hlgheat),...^.- 0*092  to  0-287 

Iron  pyrites » «..  0-039  to  0-067 

VlvUnlte. _. _...^._ -..  0-027  to  0-076 

Colomblte  of  Bodeamala  and  aaddam... 0-.161 

Pyrochloro -.«.« 0-010 

Chrysoprue  (qnsrtz  ]»  dlamagnetlc,  bat  many  Tarle- 1   (..ma 

tlea  •ro  magnetic). _ f  x  <~« 

Felapar,  sometimes  feeMy  magnetic 

Labradorlte  of  an  antique  green  porphyry — 0-077 

Hornblende OOU  to  0067 

Cri/stallomaffnetic  Action. — The  magnetic  polarity  thus 
far  alluded  to  belongs  to  the  mass,  and  has  no  relation  to 
crystalline  form.  There  is  also  a  kind  of  polarity  directly 
related  to  the  crystalline  or  optic  axes  of  minerals.  A 
crystal  of  cyanite,  suspended  horizontally,  points  to  the 
north,  by  the  magnetic  power  of  the  earth  only,  and  is  a 
tme  conipass  needle,  from  which  even  the  declination  may 
be  obtained ;  and  the  line  of  direction  is  the  line  of  the 
optic  axes.  Other  crystals,  which  are  called  negative, 
take  a  transverse  or  equatorial  position.  The  latter  are 
diamagnetic  crystals. 

Conductivity  for  Seaz. — Senarmont  found  that  the  con- 
ducting power  of  colloids  and  of  crystals  of  the  cubic 
system  is  equal  in  all  directions,  but  that  it  varies  in 
different  directions  in  crystals  belonging  to  all  the  other 
systems,  exhibiting  characters  analogous  to  those  deduced 
from  their  double  refraction,  conformable  with  the  optic 
aies  of  the  crystal,  and  referable,  as  in  the  latter  case,  to 
axes  of  elasticity,  or  unequal  compression  of  the  molecules. 

The  fundamental  fact  is  easily  shown  by  taking  two  slices  of 
loclc-crysfal,  one  cut  transverse  to  the  axis  and  one  parallel  to  it 
Through  the  centre  of  each  plate  a  Bmall  hole 
is  drilled  for  the  reception  of  a  bent  wire, 
which  by  insertion  into  the  hole  sustains  the 
{date.  The  other  end  of  the  wire  is  to  be  heated, 
and  the  rate  of  the  conduction  of  the  heat  is 
rendered  visible  by  the  amount  of  a  thin  coating 
of  beeswax,  with  which  the  plate  has  been  pre- 
rioasly  coated,  which  is  melted  round  the  central 
hole.  It  will  be  seen  that  in  the  transverse  slice 
the  wax  is  melted  in  a  circular  form,  while  in  the 
longitudinal  slice  the  form  is  elliptical  (fig.  256). 
The  conduction  is  equal  in  all  directions,  as 
regards  the   transverse  axes  of  the  hexagonal 

f>nsm,  but  more  rapid  in  one  direction  in  the 
ongitudinal  slice,  and  that  direction  is  the  line 
of  ita  optic  axis.  In  the  case  of  quartz  the  two 
diameters  of  the  ellipse  are  as  1000  to  1312. 

If  the  regular  disposition  of  the  molecules  of 
amorphouslmdies  be  interfered  with  by  unequal 
tension  or  compression,  the  regularity  of  their 
power  of  conducting  heat  is  destroyed,  and  they 
also  show  elliptical  forms  of  melted  wax  ;  and 
the  ahorter  axis  of  the  ellipse  is  in  the  line  of 
pressure  or  undue  packing  of  the  molecules. 
The  heat  thus  does  not  travel  so  fast  in  this 
direction, — partly  because  it  is  spent  in  the 
heating  up  of  the  greater  number  of  molecules.  Hence  -we  might 
conclude  tnat  along  the  main  axis  of  quartz  a  smaller  number  of 
molecules  are  packed  in  an  equal  space  than  along  the  transverse. 
The  following  are  the  more  important  of  Scnarniont's  results. 

1.  Crystals  of  the  tetragonal  and  rhombohedral  systems  have  one 
axis  of  conductivity  which  is  either  greater  or  smaller  than  the 
others,  and  this  axis  coincides  with  the  main  crystallograpbic  axis. 
The  isothermal  surfaces  are  ellipses  which  lie  in  the  line  of  this 
axis,  and  these  ellipses  may  be  either  elongated  or  flatteued  in 
the  direction  of  this  line. 

2.  In  crystals  of  the  right  prismatic  system  the  isothermal 
surfaces  have  three  nneoual  .ixes,  which  coincide  with  crystallo- 
gniphic  ^es  drawn  parallel  to  the  edges  of  the  rectangular  prism. 

S.  In  crystala  of  the  oblique  rhombic  system  the  isothermal 


Fig.  256. 


surfaces  have  three  unequal  axes,  one  of  which  coinddea  with  the 
horizontal  diagonal  of  the  base,  while  th£  other  two  have  directions 
which  art:  not  referable  to  any  law. 

4.  In  crystals  of  the  anorthic  system  the  isothermal  surfaces 
have  three  unequal  axes,  all  with  indeterminable  positions. 

In  crystals  of  a  single  axis  there  appears  to  exist  Do  constant 
relation  between  the  axis  of  optic  elasticity,  whether  maTimnm  or 
minimum,  and  the  axis-  of  the  greatest  or  of  the  least  calorific 
conductibility.  Thus,  of  the  minerals  examined  by  Senarmont, 
quartz  ( + ),  calcito  ( - ),  cassiterite  ( + ),  rutile  ( + ),  and  calomel 
( + )  have  all  their  greatest  axis  of  conductibility  parallel  to  the 
principal  axis ;  idocrase,  beryl,  tourmaline,  and  corundum,  all 
optically  negative,  have  on  uie  contrary  their  smallest  axis  of 
conductibility  parallel  to  the  axis. 

In  crystals  belonging  to  the  obliq^ae  rhombic  system  there  is 
rarely  coincidence  between  the  thermic  axes  and  the  axes  of  optic 
elasticity.  In  gypsum  and  in  felspar  these  lie  apart  to  a  marke'* 
extent 

Dilatation  by  Heat. — In  crystals  of  those  systems  in  whicn  Ditota- 
the  molecules  are  arranged  unequally  as  regards  their  ares,  *'<*• 
the  amount  of  their  dilatation  when  heated  is  unequal  in 
the  direction  of  their  axes.    Our  knowledge  of  this  subject 
is  chiefly  due  to  MitscherUch. 

In  crystals  of  cubic  sjrmmetry  the  expansion  is  equal  in  all 
directions.  The  dimetric  systems — the  pyramidal  and  hexagonal — 
are  brought  together  as  regards  this  quality,  inasmuch  as  the  axes 
of  volumetric  change  are  in  these  the  same ;  for,  while  these  in 
the  pyramidal  correspond  with  the  crystallographic  axes,  in  the 
hexagonal  the  three  axes  are  the  vertical,  one  lateral  axis,  and  an 
axis  lying  intermediate  to  the  other  two  and  at  right  angles  to  the 
first  lateral  axis.  The  expansion  along  the  principal  axis  may  be 
either  greater  or  less  than  along  the  othere ;  and  in  some  minerals 
there  is  even  contraction  along  one  axis. 

In  the  right  prismatic  system  the  axes  of  dilatation  correspond  to 
those  of  form.  In  the  oblique  prismatic  one  axis  corresponds  with 
the  orthodiagonal,  but  the  others  make  angles  not  only  with  the 
other  crystaBographio  axes  but,  strange  to  say,  vrith  the  axes  both 
of  thermic  conductivity  and  of  optic  elasticity.  We  aro  as  yet 
ignorant  of  the  properties  of  anorthic  crystals  in  this  respect. 

As  a  consequence  of  this  unequal  expansion  along  different  axes, 
the  angles  of  crystals,  other  than  those  of  the  cubic  system,  are 
altered  under  the  influence  of  heat  The  alteration  is  extreme  in 
the  case  of  calcite,  where,  through  elongation  along  the  vertical 
axis,  with  some  concomitant  contraction  of  the  transverse,  the 
angle  of  the  rhombohedric  faces  is,  when  the  crystal  is  heated 
from  32°  to  212°  F.,  diminished  from  105°  5'  to  104°  66'  23",— 
the  form  thus  approaching  that  of  a  cube,  as  the  temperature  is 
raised.  ..    .  .  v      ,i  ,tn 

Dolomite,  in  the  same  range  of  temperature,  diminishes  *  lo- 
in some  rhombohedrons,  as  of  calc-spar,  the  vertical  axis  is  lengthened 
(and  the  lateral  shortened),  while  in  others,  like  quartz,  the  reverse 
is  true.  The  variation  is  such,  either  way,  that  the  double  refrac 
tion  is  diminished  with  the  increase  of  heat ;  for  calc.spar  possesses 
negative  double  refraction,  and  quartz  positive.  According  to 
Fresnel  the  same  is  true  of  gypeum.  The  dilatation  for  calc-spar, 
according  to  experiment,  is  0-001961. 

Kopp  has  shown  that  in  the  carbonates  of  lime,  magnesia,  iron, 
manganese,  and  zinc,  which  are  nearly  the  same  in  the  angle  of  their 
crystals,  the  vertical  axis  is  shorter  the  greater  the  atomic  volume 
And  since  heat  diminishes  the  density,  and  therefore  necessarily 
increases  the  volume,  the  axis  a  should  be  lengthened  by  an  increase 
of  temperature,  as  is  actually  the  case.  He  has  determined  by  cal- 
culation that  the  change  of  angle  from  32°  to  212°  -^— '->  '-'  '  •" 


■  should  be  7'  37" 


small  as  to  he  scarcely  measurable,  yet  they  may  be  sufficient  fi 
establishing  a  di*rence  between  substances  which  have  identical 
geometiic  form  while  belonging  to  dilfeicnt  systems  of  crystalliza^ 
tion.  The  angle  of  a  rhomboliedron  might  at  a  certain  temperature 
he  90°,  and  so  coincide  with  a  cube  ;  but  that  angle  would  in  Si 
rhombohedron  change  whenever  the  temperature  altered,  while  th» 
angle  of  a  true  monometric  cube  is  constant  at  all  temperaturw: 
The  increase  in  volume  and  diminution  in  density  which  gencraUy 
result  from  heating  are  always  accompanied  by  a  change  in  optical 
properties.  In  trimetiic  crystals,  where  the  principal  indices  altar 
nnequall)',  the  change  affects  the  amount  of  divergence  of  the  optio- 
axes.  The  amount  of  alteration  in  gypsum,  when  the  divergence 
is  diminished,  is  extreme.  At  the  ordinary  temperature  the  angW 
of  the  divergence  of  the  optic  axes  which  be  m  the  plane  M 
symmehy  U  about  90°  for  red  light;  when  heated  to  177  it  la 
diminished  to  0°,  and  for  the  moment  the  crystal  appears  to  Do 
nniaxaL  When  more  highly  heated,  the  axes  again  diverge  but 
in  a  plane  at  right  angles  to  the  original  one,  and  in  cooling  tnese 
changes  take  place  in  reverse  order.  In  barytea  and  celestine  again, 
the  alteration  in  the  angle  of  the  optic  axes  is  a  divergence  when, 
heated. 


16—15* 


378 


MINERALOGY 


TeuMity, 


Characters  depending  on  Cohesion. 
These  characters  are  of  five  kinds : — (1)  hardness,  (2) 
tenacity,  (3)  elasticity,  (4)  cleavage,  (5)  fracture.    All  may 
be  considered  as  related  to  the  power  of  resisting  attempts 
to  separate  one  part  from  another. 

1.  Hardness. — A  harder  body  is  distinguished  from  a 
softer,  either  by  attempting  to  scratch  the  one  with  the 
other,  or  by  trying  each  with  a  file.  Each  of  these  methods 
is  used  by  the  mineralogist  in  determining  the  hardness 
of  the  species,  though  the  latter  is  in  most  cases  to  be 
preferred.  Both  methods  should  be  employed  when 
practicable. 

Certain  varieties  of  some  minei'als  give  a  low  hardness  under  the 
file,  owing  eitlier  to  impurities  or  imperfect  aggregation  of  the 
particles,  while  they  scratch  another  mineral  upon  which  a  file  would 
have  no  effect,  showing  that  the  particles  of  the  first  are  hard,  though 
loosely  aggreo;ated,  Chiastolite,  spinel,  and  sapphire  are  common 
examples  of  this.  "When  the  mineral  is  too  hard  to  be  impressed  by 
a  file,  the  peculiarity  of  the  grating  sound  will  suffice  for  the  prac- 
tised ear. 

Mohs  introduced  a  scale  of  hardness,  consisting  of  ten  minerals, 
which  gradually  increase  in  hardness  from  1  to  10.  The  intervals 
between  2  and  3  and  5  and  6  are  larger  than  the  others.  Breithaupt 
has  therefore  introduced  another  degree  of  hardness  between  each 
of  the  above,  and  thus  his  scale  consists  of  twelve  minerals. 

The  scale  is  as  follows  : — 

1.  Talc,  common  laminated  light  green  variety. 

2.  Gypsum,  a  crystallized  variety 
2'6.  Mica  (muscovite). 

5.  Calcite,  transparent  variety. 
4.      Fluor-spar,  crystalline  variety. 

6.  Apatite,  transparent  variety. 
C*6.  Seapolite,  crystalline  variety, 

6.     Felspar  (orthoclase),  white  cleavable  variety. 
V.      Quartz,  transparent. 
6.     Topaz,  transparent. 
9.     Sapphire,  cleavable  varieties. 
10.      Diamond. 

If  the  file  abrades  the  mineral  unaer  trial  with  the  same  ease  as 
Ko.  4,  and  produces  an  equal  depth  of  abrasion  with  the  same  force, 
its  hardness  is  said  to  be  4 ;  if  with  more  facility  than  4  but  less 
than  5,  t'ne  hardness  may  be  i\  or  4^,  written  in  decimals  4"25,  4'5. 
Several  successive  trials  should  be  made  to  obtain  certain  results. 

The  use  of  the  file  is  acquired  with  very  little  experience  ;  usually 
a  single  trial  is  sufficient.  Care  must  be  taken  to  apply  the  file  to 
edges  of  equal  obtuseness.  That  part  also  of  the  specimen  should 
be  selected  which  has  not  been  altered  by  exposure,  and  has  the 
highest  degree  of  transparency  and  compactness  of  structure.  The 
pressure  for  determination  should  be  rather  heavy,  and  the  file 
should  be  passed  three  or  four  times  over  the  specimen. 

Where  tlie  scale  of  hardness  is  wanting,  or  a  first  rough  deter- 
mination is  sought,  the  following  experiments  may  serve  ; — 

Every  mineral  that  is  scratched  by  the  finger-nail  has  H.  =-2'5  or 
leas.  Minerals  that  scratch  copper  have  H.  —  3  or  more.  Polished 
white  iron  has  H. -4'5.  Window-glass  has  H.  =6  to  5-5.  Steel 
point  or  file  has  H.  =6  to  7  ;  hence  every  mineral  that  will  cut  or 
scratch  with  a  good  penknife  has  H.  less  than  6.  Flint  has  H. -7, 
and  only  about  a  dozen  minerals,  including  the  precious  stones  or 
gems,  are  harder. 

Many  specimens  present  different  degrees  of  hardness  on  dis- 
similar faces ;  as  an  example  of  which  we  mention  cyanite  and 
mica.  This  is  confined  to  the  inequilateral  primary  forms,  and  like 
the  similar  difference  of  colour,  lustre,  &c.,  finds  a  ready  explana- 
tion in  the  theory  of  their  formation;  unlike  faces  are  the  result  of 
the  action  of  a  polar  force  acting  along  unlike  axes. 

This  difference  in  faces  parallel  to  unlike  axes  may  be  perceived 
in  nearly  all  cases,  when  the  methods  of  trial  are  sufficiently 
delicate.  Huygens  obser\'cd  long  ago  that  the  cleavage  face  of  a 
crystal  of  calc-spar  differed  in  hardness  from  the  other  faces  ;  and 
even  in  a  monometric  crystal  it  has  been  found  that  the  faces  of 
■the  cube  and  octahedron  are  not  exactly  alike  in  this  respect. 

2.  Tenacity. — Solid  minerals  are  said  to  be  brittle, 
eectile,  malleable,  flexible,  or  elastic  : — 

1.  Brittle,  when  parts  of  a  mineral  separate  in  powder  or  grains 
on  attempting  to  cut  it ;  as  baryte,  calc-apar. 

2.  Scdik,  wlien  pieces  may  be  cut  off  with  a  knife  without  fall- 
ing to  jTOwder,  but  etiU  the  mineral  pulverizes  tinder  a  hammer; 
as  Drucite,  gypsum. 

8.  Malleable,  when  slices  may  be  cut  off,  and  these  alices 
flatten  out  under  a  hammer  ;  as  native  gold,  native  copper. 

4.  Flexible,  when  the  miueral  will  bend  and  remain  bent  after 
the  bending  force  is  removed  ;  as  gypsum,  graphite,  talc. 


[      6.  Elastic,  when  after  being  bent  it  will  spring  back  to  id, 
original  position ;  as  mica. 

A  liquid  is  said  to  be' viscous  when,  on  pouring  it,  the 
drops  lengthen  and  appear  ropy ;  as  petroleum. 

3.  Elasticity. — Investigations  on  this  property  have  n6t  Etj-itidty, 
to  any  extent  been  entered  upon.  The  unequal  elasticity 
of  unlike  faces  of  crystals  has  been  shown  by  Savart  in  his 
acoustic  investigations,  and  he  was  able  to  distinguish  the 
rhombohedral  from  the  other  faces  in  the  pyramid  of  quartz 
crystals ;  he  also  showed  that  the  figures  formed  upon 
vibrating  plates  of  crystals  were  directly  connected 
with  their  optic  axes.  Milne,  by  measuring  the  amount 
of  recoil  of  a  sphere  of  calcite  when  struck  at  different 
points  by  another  of  rock-crystal,  found  that  the  elasticity, 
as  thus  measured,  was  greatest  along  the  line  of  the  optio 
axis,  and  least  in  directions  at  right  angles  to  it.  .  He  also 
found  that  points  which  lay  intermediate  between  the  main 
and  the  transverse  axes  were  most  indented  by  the  blows. 
This  goes  to  show  that,  although  there  may  be  fewest 
molecules  arranged  along  the  lines  of  the  transversa  axes, 
yet  cohesion  operates  with  greater  intensity  along  these 
than  in  intermediate  directions. 

When  the  tenacity  of  a  mineral  is  overcome  by  an  over- 
whelming amount  of  traction,  or  its  elasticity  by  a  sudden 
shock,  its  parts  are  separated,  either  in  flat  and  continuous 
surfaces,  or  in  siu-faces  which  are  irregtilar  in  the  extreme. 
The  first  of  these  modes  is  termed  cleavage,  the  second 
fractm-e.  In  those  substances  in  which  cleavage  exists  it 
is  found  that  the  planes  or  directions  along  which  it  takes 
place  lie  in  certain  strictly  definite  positions  to  one  another 
and  to  the  axes  of  the  crystal.  They  show  not  the  smallest 
tendency  to  a  transition  or  gradual  passage  into  the  other 
directions  of  greater  coherence. 

4.  Cleavage. — The  number  of  these  parallel  c'.eavaga-  Cleir:'^ 
planes  is  altogether  indefinite,  so  that  the  only  limit  that 
can  be  assigned  to  the  divisibility  of  some  minerals,  as 
gj'psum  and  mica,  arises  from  the  coarseness  of  our  instru- 
ments. These  minima  of  coherence,  or  cleavage-planes,  are 
always  parallel  to  some  face  of  the  crystal ;  and  .-limilar 
equal  minima  occur  parallel  to  every  other  face  of  the  same 
form.  Hence  they  are  always  equal  in  number  to  the  faces 
of  the  form,  and  the  figures  produced  by  cleavage  agree 
in  every  point  with  true  crystals,  except  that  Uiey  are 
artificial.  They  are  thus  most  simply  and  conveniently 
described  by  the  same  terms  and  signs  as  the  faces  of 
crystals. 

Some  minerals  cleave  in  several  directions  parallel  to  the  faces  of 
different  forms,  but  the  cleavage  is  generally  more  easily  obtained 
and  more  perfect  in  one  direction  than  in  the  others.  This  com- 
plex cleavage  is  well  seen  in  calc-spar  and  fluor-spar,  and  very 
remarkably  in  zinc  blende,  where  it  takes  place  in  no  less  than  six 
directions.  As  in  ea(ih  of  these  the  division  may  bo  indefinitely 
continued,  it  is  clear  that  no  lamellar  structure  in  any  proper  sense 
can  be  assigned  to  the  mineral.  All  that  can  be  .itfirracd  is  that 
contiguous  atoms  have  less  coherence  along  a  direction  normal  to 
these  planes  than  in  other  directions.  When  cleavage  takes  place  in 
three  directions,  it  of  course  produces  a  perfect  crystal  form,  from 
which  the  system  of  crystallization  and  angular  dimensions  of  the 
species  may  be  determined  ;  it  '«  thus  often  of  very  great  im- 
portance. 

The  common  cleavage  in  the  different  systems  is  as  follows,  those  of 
most  frequent  occurrence  beingin  italics  :— (1)  In  the  cubic  system, 
Octahedral,  0,  along  the  faces  of  the  octahedron  ;  HexahedraZ, 
ocOoo ,  along  those  of  the  cube  ;  and  Dodecahedr:.!,  ccO.  (2)  In  the 
tetragonal  system,  Pyramidal,  P,  or  2Poo  ;  Prismalic,  ooP,  or  ooPoo  : 
OT  Basal,  OP.  (S)  In  the  hex.agonal  system  with  holohcdral  form-s 
Pyramidal,  P,  or  P2  ;  Prismatic,  ooP,  or  ooPoo  ;  or  Basal.OV;  with 
rhombohedral  forms,  Ithombclccdral,  R ;  Prismatic,  ooR ;  or  Basal, 
OR.  (4)  In  the  right  piismatic  system,  pyramidal,  P;  Prismatic, 
osP  ;  Maorodomatio  .or  Brachydcinatic,  Poo  or  Poo  ;  Basal,  OP ; 
Macrodiagonal,  a>Vx  ;  or  Brachydiaqoruxl,  ooPoo .  (5)  In  tho 
oblique  prismatic  system.Hemipyramidol.P,  or- P  ;  Prismatic,  coP; 
Clinodomatic,  P'eo  ;  Hemidomntic,  P^co  or-P°»';  Basal,  OP; 
Orthodiagonal,    ooP»oo  ;  or  Clincdiar.onal,    coP'oo.     <6)  In  th« 


MIIi£RALOGY 


379 


•aorthic  system,  Hemiprismatic,  ooP',  or  qoP  ;  Hemidomatic  either 
along  the  macrodome  or  the  brachydome:  Basal,  OP ;  MacrodiagoDal, 
nf  IS  ;  or  BTOchydiagtmal,  toPoo . 

2 In  some  minerals,  as  mica  and  gypsum,  the  cleavage  is 
idily  procured ;  these  may  be  held  in  the  hand  and 
divided  by  a  knife.  Others  only  cleave  with  more  or  less 
difficulty ;  these  must  be  placed  on  a  firm  support  resting 
on  lead,  folded  paper,  or  cloth,  and  a  sharp  blow  struck  on 
a  chisel  applied  in  a  proper  direction.  This  may  often  be 
ascertained  by  examining  the  specimen  in  a  strong  light. 
Sometimes  it  is  necessary  to  subject  them  to  extreme  com- 
pression in  a  vice.  Some  of  the  hardest  substances  have 
not  only  a  perfect  but  a  facile  cleavage, — as  euclase,  topaz, 
and  diamond ;  many  of  the  softest  species  have  none.  The 
planes  produced  also  vary  much  in  their  degree  of  perfection, 
being  highly  perfect  in  some,  as  mica  and  calc-spar,  and 
imperfect  in  others,  as  garnet  and  quartz.  In  a  very  few 
crystalline  minerals  cleavage-planes  can  hardly  be  said  to 
exist.  Cleavage  must  be  carefully  distinguished  from  the 
planes  of  union  in  twin  crystals,  and  the  division-planes  of 
laminar  minerals, 
re.  5.  Fracture. — This  is  the  irregular  manner  in  which 
substances  may  be  broken.  Even  minerals  possessed  of 
cleavage  may  be  fractured  in  other  directions ;  but  in 
amorphous  bodies  fracture  alone  occurs.  The  following 
varieties  of  fracture  occur,  and  are  highly  characteristic: — 

1.  Conchoidal,  almost  typical  of  amorphous  bodies,  but  occas- 
sionally  seen  in  crystals, — rounded  cavities,  more  or  less  deep.  The 
name  is  taken  from  the  resemblance  to  the  successive  lines  of 
interrupted  j^owth  in  a  bivalve  shell.  Seen  in  flint,  obsidian, 
asphalt.  In  calcite  the  direction  of  this  fracture  is  intermediate  to 
the  pianos  of  the  mineral's  cleavage. 

2.  Even,  when  the  surface  of  fracture  is  smooth  and  free  from 
*nequalitics. 

3.  Jiovgh,  when  the  surface  of  fracture  is  rugged,  with  numerous 
small  elevations  and  depressions. 

4.  SplinUry,  when  covered  with  small  wedge-shaped  spiinters. 

5.  Hackly,  when  the  elevations  are  sharp,  slightly  bent,  or 
jagged,  as  broken  iron. 

6.  Earthy,  when  it  shows  only  fine  dust 

TasU,  Odour,  Touch. 
Taste  belongs  only  to  soluble  minerals.     The  different 
kinds  adopted  for  reference  are  as  foOows : — 

1.  Astringatt,  the  taate  of  blue  vitrioL 

2.  Sweetish  astringerU,  taste  of  alum. 

5.  Saline,  taste  of  common  salt. 
4.  AlkaliTU,  taste  of  soda. 

6.  Cooling,  taste  of  saltpetre. 

6.  Bitter,  taste  of  epsora  salts. 

7.  Sour,  taste  of  sulphuric  acid. 

8.  Pungent,  taste  of  sal-ammoniac. 

9.  Metallic,  taste  of  zinc  sulphate. 

Odour. — Excepting  a  few  gaseous  and  soluble  species, 
minerals  in  the  dry  unchanged  state  do  not  give  off  odour. 
'  By  friction,  moistening  with  the  breath,  and  the  elimina- 
tion of  some  volatile  ingredient  by  heat  or  acids,  odours  are 
sometimes  obtained  which  are  thus  designated  : — 

1.  Alliaceous,  the  odour  of  garlic.  Friction  of  arsenical  iron 
elicits  this  odour ;  it  may  also  bo  obtained  from  any  of  the  arsenical 
ores  or  salts  by  means  of  heat. 

2.  Eorse-radish  odour,  the  odour  of  decaying  horse-radish.  This  . 
odour  is  strongly  perceived  when  the  ores  of  selenium  are  heated. 

3.  Sulphurous.  Friction  will  elicit  thia  odour  from  pyrites,  and 
heat  from  many  sulphurets. 

4.  Bituminous,  the  odour  of  bitumen. 

5.  Fetid,  the  odour  of  sulphuretted  hydrogen  or  rotten  eggs.  It 
is  elicited  by  friction  from  some  varieties  of  quartz  and  limestone. 

6.  Argillaceous,  the  odour  of  moistened  clay.  It  is  obtained 
from  serpentine  and  some  allied  minerals  after  moistening  them 
^with  the  breath  ;  others,  as  pyrargillite,  afford  it  when  heated. 

7.  Empyreumatic  or  ozonic.  Quartz,  when  two  portions  strike 
jpne  another. 

Touch. — Some  minerals  are  oistinguished  by  a  greasy 
.  Tfeeling,  as  talc ;  others  feel  smooth,  as  celedonite ;  others  ' 
meagre,  like  clay ;  others  cold.     This  last  character  distin- 
guishes true  gems  from  their  imitations  in  glass.    Some,  in 
>rtue  of  their  hygroscopic  nature,  adhere  ti">  th«  tongue. 


Chemical  Pkopeettes  of  Minerals. 
Influence   of    Chemical   Composition    on   the    External  Kelt'  on  • 
Characters  of  Minerals. — That  the  characters   of  a  com-  comi-«i 
pound   must  to  a  certaih   extent  depend  on  those  of  its*'""*^ 
component  elements  seems,  as   a  general  proposition,  to  prJ™'4i-s 
admit  of  no  doubt     Hence  it  might  be  supposed  possible  ' 

from  a  knowledge  of  the  composition  of  a  mineral  to  draw 
conclusions  in  reference  to  its  form  and  its  other  properties  ■ 
but  practically  this  has  not  yet  been  effected 

The  distinction  between  the  mineralizing  and  mineralizable  or 
the  forming  and  formed  elements  lies  at  the  foundation  of  all  such 
inquiries.  Certain  elements  in  a  compound  apparently  exert  more 
than  an  equal  share  of  influence  in  determining  its  physical  pro- 
perties. Thus  the  more  important  non-metallic  elements,  as  oxygen,  < 
sulphur,  chlorine,  fluorine,  are  remarkable  for  the  influence  tiiey 
exert  on  the  character  of  the  compound.  The  sulphurets,  for 
example,  have  more  similarity  among  themselves  than  the  various 
compounds  of  one  and  the  same  metal  with  the  non-metallic  bodies. 
Still  more  generally  it  would  appear  that  the  electro-negative 
clement  in  the  compound  is  the  most  influential,  or  exerts  the 
greatest  degree  of  active  forming  power.  After  the  non-metallic 
elements  the  brittle,  easily  fusible  metals  rank  next  in  power  ;  then 
the  ductile  ignoble  metals  ;  then  the  noble  metals  ;  then  the  brittle, 
■difficultly  fusible  ;  and,  last  of  all,  the  metals  of  the  earths  and 
alkalies. 

Generally  each  chemical  substance  crystallizes  only  in  one  form  or 
series  of  forms.  Some  substances,  however,  show  dimorphism,  or 
crystallize  in  two  forms,  and  thus  may  compose  two  or  more  minerals. 
Thus  sulphur,  which  in  nature  usually  crystallizes  in  the  right 
prismatic  system,  when  melted  forms  oblique  prismatic  crystals. 
Carbon  in  one  form  is  the  diamond,  in  another  graphite;  carbonate 
of  lime  appears  as  calc-spar  and  as  aragonite ;  the  bisulphuret  of  iron 
as  pyrite  and  as  marcasite.  An  example  of  trimorphism  occurs  in 
titanic  acid,  forming  the  three  distinct  species  anatase,  rutile,  and 
brookite.  It  is  remarkable  that  of  dimorphic  minerals  one  form  is 
almost  always  right  prismatic;  thus: — 

Rhombic  Form. 

Cyanlte,  anorthic.^ SUUmanltc,  Andalualte. 

Calc-spar,  hexagonal Araffonlte. 

Sasannlte,      do ^ LeadhiUite. 

AnSie  }pr"">iiaal Brookite. 

Pyrolnsite,  right  prismatic Folianite. 

Cupiitc,  cubic Chalcotrlchite  (?) 

SenarmoDtite,  cubic ..„ VaJentinite. 

Pyrite,  do .,.,.».„.„.„ Marcasite, 

Rammelsbergite.  do Chioanthite. 

Argcntite,  do „ Acanihile. 

Freiesiebenite,  oblique  prismatic Diaphorite. 

Sulphur,  do.  Sulphur. 

Even  the  temperature  at  which  a  substance  crystallizes  influences 
its  forms,  and  so  far  its  composition,  as  seen  in  aragonite,  Glauber 
salt,  natron,  and  borax. 

Isomorphism. — Still  more  important  is  the  Qocirine  of  laonnw 
isomorphism,  designating  the  fact  that  two  or  more  simple  or  phisjn. 
compound  substances  crystallize  in  one  and  the  same  form,  or 
often  in  forms  which,  though  not  identical,  yet  approximate 
very  closely.  This  similarity  of  form  is  generally  combined 
with  a  similarity  in  other  physical  and  in  chemical  properties. 
Among  minerals  that  crystallize  In  the  tesseral  system, 
isomorphism  is  of  course  common  and  perfect,  there  being 
no  diversity  in  the  dimensions  of  the  primary  form ;  but 
for  this  very  reason  it  is  generally  of  less  interest.  It  is  of 
more  importance  among  crystals  of  the  other  systems,  the 
various  series  of  which  are  separated  from  each  other  by 
differences  in  the  proportions  of  the  primary  form.  In! 
these  perfect  identity  is  seldom  observed,  but  only  very 
great  similarity. 

The  more  important  isomorphic  substances  are  either  simple  sub- 
stances, as  (1)  iluorine  and  chlorine;  (2)  sulphur  and  selenium;  (3) 
arsenic,  antimony  ;  (4)  cobalt,  iron,  nickel ;  (5)  copper,  silver, 
mercury,  gold  (?);  or  combinations  with  oxygen,  as  (6)  lime, 
magnesia,  and  the  protoxides  of  iron,  manganese,  zinc;  (7)  sesqui- 
oxides,  as  of  iron,  manganese,  chromium,  and  alumina ;  (8) 
phosphoric  acid,  vanadic  acid,  arsenic  acid;  (9)  sulphuric,  selenio, 
chromic  acids;  or  combinations  with  sulphur,  as  (10)  sulphuret  of 
iron  and  of  zinc;  (11)  sulphuret  of  antimony  and  of  arsenic;  (12)stil- 
phuret  of  lead,  of  copper,  and  of  silver.  These  substances  are  named 
vicarious  from  the  singular  property  that  in  chemical  compounds 
they  can  mutually  replace  each  other  in  definite  proportions,  and' 
very  often  without  producing  any  important  change  in  the  form  or 
other  physical  properties.  But  there  are  numerous  instances  among 
the  silicates   where   the   mutual  replacement  of  the  isomorphio 


380 


MINERALOGY 


1[»cldic9.  esprri  illy  when  the  oxides  of  the  heavy  metals  come  in  the 
room  of  thr  earths  and  alkolii's,  cxt-rts  a  most  essential  influenre  on 
the  external  aspect  of  the  species,  particularly  in  regard  to  colour, 
specific  gravity,  and  transparency.  The  varieties  of  hornblende, 
aiigito,  carnet,  epidote,  and  many  other  minerals  are  remarkable 
proofs  of  this  influence.  This  intermixture  of  isomorphic  elements 
confers  many  valuable  properties  on  minerals,  and  to  it  this  depart- 
ment of  naturp  owes  much  of  Its  variety  and  beauty.  Without  the 
occasional  presence  of  the  colouring  substances,  especially  the  oxides 
of  iron  and  manganese,  the  non-metallic  combinations  would  have 
exhibited  a  very  monotonous  aspect.  It  is  also  remarkable  that  in 
some  silicates  the  substitution  of  a  certain  portion  of  the  metallic 
oxides  for  the  earthy  bases  seems  to  bo  almost  a  regular  occurrence; 
whilst  in  others,  as  the  felspars  and  zeolites,  this  rarely  happens. 
This  fact  is  also  of  great  economic  interest,  as  drawing  attention  to 
important  elements  often  combined  with  others  of  less  value.  Thus 
iron  oxide  and  chrome  oxide,  sulphuret  of  copper  and  sulphuret  of 
(diver,  nickel  and  cobalt,  may  bo  looked  for  in  connexion.      The 


fmeral  chemical  formulae  for  such  compounds  is  formed  by  writing 
(  —  radical  or  basis)  for  the  whole  isomorphic  elements;  and  lu 
special  instances  their  signs  are  placed  one  below  the  other,  con- 
nected by  a  bracket,  or,  as  is  more  convenient,  are  enclosed  ii 
brackets  one  after  the  other  separated  by  a  comma.   Thus  tho  gene< 

ral  sign  for  the  garnet  is  K3Si2+  fiSi,  which,  when  fully  expressed, 
becomes  {Ca^  Fcg,  Mgg,  Mug)  Si2  +  ('A'l,  Fe,  er)Si;  and  this  mineral 
forms  many  varieties  as  the  one  or  other  element  preponderates. 

Of  the  forms  special  to  similar  groups  of  atoms  the  more  notable 
are — the  cubic  system,  special  to  metals  proper,  and  binary 
compounds  as  protoxides  and  haloid  salts;  the  tetragonal  to 
binoxides ;  the  rliombohedral  to  carbonates;  the  hexagonal  t» 
sesquioxides  and  phosphates  and  their  isomorph.s;  the  prismatic 
to  sulphates  and  tlieir  isomorphs. 

The  isomorphism  of  minerals  goes  as  a  whole  to  show  tliat  form 
depends  on  the  number  of  molecules  present,  and  is  comparatively 
little  influenced  by  th,e  nature  of  the  molecules  themselves 


DESCKIPTION  OF  MINERAL  SPECIES. 


Bi-valcnt 
elements. 


The  arrangement  adopted  in  the  following  description 
of  mineral  species  is  chemical.  Simple  substances  are 
considered  first,  in  the  order  of  their  quantivalence,  then 
binary  compounds,  and  la.stly  those  of  more  complex 
structure.  Our  limits  permit  of  the  briefest  notice  of 
the  less  important,  in  order  that  more  space  may  be  avail- 
able for  the  delineation  of  the  characteristic  and  transition 
forms  of  such  as  go  to  constitute  the  more  important  rock 
masses. 

The  following  abbreviations  are  used: — H.,  hardness ; 
G.,  specific  gi'avity  (distilled  water  at  60°  Fahr.  and 
barometer  30  inches  =1);  cl.,  cleavage;  sol.,  soluble; 
8.  \h.  or  n.]  acid,  sulphuric  [hydrochloric  or  nitric]  acid ; 
'  B.B.,  before  blowpipe ;  ox.,  oxidizing ;  red.,  reducing ;  c.c, 
chemical  composition  ;  com.,  combination. 

In  the  chemical  formulie,  barred  letters  express  two 
equivalents,  and  the  dots  over  the  symbols  indicate  the 
combination  with  them  of  as  many  equivalents  of  oxygen 
as  there  are  dots. 

In  the  symbolic  notation  the  several  faces  of  crystals 
are  separated  by  semicolons,  and  the  constituent  members 
of  combinations  by  commas.  The  lettering  on  the  faces  of 
the  figures  is  for  the  most  part  that  adopted  by  Miller. 
In  the  enumeration  of  crystal  forms,  that  which  is  typical 
of  the  mineral  is  placed  first. 

SIMPLE  SUBSTANCES. 
1.  SuLruuB,  S. 
(a)  Right  prismatic.     P  (p)  polar  sdges  106°  38',  84°  58',  middle 

edge  143°  17'  ;    ooP  101°  58';  OP  (c) ;  5P(s);  P«>  (")•      CrysUls 

pyramidal,    single  or    in   druses  ;  also  stalactitic,  disseminated, 

and  pulverulent.     Cl.  basal  and  coP,      H.  =  l'5to 

2-5;    G. -l-g    to    2-1.      Fracture    conchoidal   or 

splintery  ;  biittle,  sectilo.     Lustre  resinous,  streak 

aud  colour  sulnhur-yellow,  passing  into  red,  brown, 

or  gveeu,     Suoliraes  in  the  closed  tube.     Fuses  a 

little    above    the    temperature   of    boiling    water. 

Takes  fire  at  513°  F.,  and  burns  with  a  pale  blue 

flamo  with  odour  of  sulphurous  acid.     Co.:  pure 

sulphur,  occasionally  mixed  with  traces  of  selenium, 

and  when  amorphous  with  clay  or  bitumen.     Found        Y\rr  257 

chiefly  in  Tertmry  strata.     Localities:  Girgenti  in  °' 

Sicily,  with  celestine  ;  Conil  in  Spain  ;  Bex  in  Switzerland  ;  Cracow 

in  Poland  ;  deposited  from  hot  springs  in  Solfatara  near  Naples  ; 

from  hot  springs  in  Iceland  ;  from  sulphur  springs  in  New  York  ; 

and  in  cavities  of  decomposing  galena,   cinnabar,  and  pyrites  at 

several  localities. 

(6)  Oblique  prismatic.  The  crystals  of  volcanic  sulphur  are  of 
this  form  ;  they  occur  in  the  neighbourhood  both  of  extinct  and  of 
recent  volcanoes.  They  are  slender,  needle-shaped,  and  interlacing, 
and  have  generally  more  or  lt:ss  of  a  red-brown  tinge.  Oxhavecr 
and  Capo  Rcykjanes  in  Iceland,  Sicily,  and  the  volcanoes  of 
the  Pacific,  the  Chilian  Andes,  and  California  yield  this  variety. 
2.  Sklensulphur,  S.So. 

Like  sulphur,  but  rcddisli  brown  to  orange-yellow.  B.  B.  burns 
with  fumes  of  s^leniuus  acid  mixed  with  the  suljdiurons.  Found 
ill  tho  crater  of  Volcano  iu  the  Linari  Islands,  and  Kilauca  in 
Hav.-i' 


^S 


3.  Selenium,  Se. 

H.  =2;  G.  =4'3.  Broivnish  black  to  lead-grey;  thin  splinters 
translucent  and  red.     From  Culebras  in  Mexico. 

4>.  Tellurium,  Te. 

Rhombohedral ;  R  86*  50'.  In  minute  hexagonal  prisms,  with 
basal  edges  replaced  ;  usually  massive  and  granular.  Cl.  lateral 
perfect,  basal  imperfect.  H.=2to  2'5;  G.^-S'l  to  6'3.  Tin-white; 
sectile.  C.c:  tellurium  with  a  little  gold  and  iron.  Occurs  at 
Facsebaya  near  Zalatbna  (Transylvania)^  and  in  several  mines  iu 
Boulder  county,  Colorado  ;  masses  25  lb  in  weight  have  been  obtained 
there. 

5.  AnsENic,  As. 

Rhombohedral  ;    R   85"  36'   (fig.  258).      Usually   in   botryoidp.l  Trl-TiOort 
investing  masses  composed  of  numberless  layers.     The  structure  is  ekiiratfc. 
fine  granular,  rarely  columnar.    H.  ■=  3  '5  ;  G.  =  5  7  to  5  '93.   Cl.  basal 
Colour  black  and  dull,  but  when  fresh  broken  very 
splendent     and     silver-white  ;      fracture     uneven. 
AVhen    rubbed   or    heated   gives  out   a   l. 
odour.    B.  B.  volatile,  with  formation  of  white  fumes. 
C.c;  arsenic,  with  some  antimony,  and  traces  of       _..     ^^ 
iron,  silver,  and  gold.     Andreasberg  in  the  Marz,  *®' 

Annaberg,  Schneeberg,  Freiberg,  Joachimsthal,  Allemont  (Dan 
phin^),  Kongsberg  (Norway),  the  Altai,  Chili,  Pebble  mine  (Dum, 
friesshire),  Tyndrum  (Perthshire). 

6.  Antimony,  Sb. 
Rhombohedral  ;  R  87*  35' ;  but  rarely  crystallized,  generally  iu 

foliated  or  granular  masses.  Cl.  basal.  H.  =3  ;  G.  =6-6  to  6-8.  tin- 
white,  with  slight  yellow  tarnish.  Brittle  and  sectile.  B.B.  easily 
fusible;  volatilizes,  and  on  charcoal  leaves  a  white  deposit,  burning 
with  a  p£-le  flame.  Found  at  Andreasberg,  Przibram  (Bohemia), 
Sala  (Sweden),  Allemont,  Southham  in  East  Canada,  and  Borneo. 

7.  Allemontite,  SbAsg. 
Hexagonal,  spherical,  reniform,  and  investing.    H.  ™3*5  ;  G.  =  6"! 

to  6  "2.  Lustre,  when  fresh,  metallic.  Tin-white  to  lead-grey,  but 
with  a  blue  or  brown  tarnish.  B.B.  strong  odour  of  garlic,  with 
residuum  of  oxide  of  antimony.  C.c:  antimony  87 "85, 'arsenic 
62'15.  Almost  always  in  curved  foliated  Inminoe.  Occurs  at 
Allemont,  Przibram,  bchlaJmine  in  Styria,  Audreasbefg. 

8.  Bismuth,  Bi. 
Rhombohedral  ;  R  87°  40'.    Crystals,  R,OR,  generally  distorted  ; 

also  reticulated,  spear-head  twins,  or  arborescent ;  also  disseminated 
andgranular.  Cl.  basal,  perfect.  H. -2-5  ;  G. -9-6  to  9-8.  Brittle 
aud  sectile.  Reddish  white,  often  tarnished  grey,  brown,  or  blue. 
B.B.  easily  fusible,  even  in  candle  flame.  Volatilizes  on  charcoal, 
leaving  a  citron-yellow  crust.  Sol.  in  n.  acid  ;  solution  pre- 
cipitated when  tlirown  into  water.  Occuj-s  in  gneiss  and  clay 
slate  in  veins  and  disseminated,  along  with  ores  of  cobalt,  silver, 
load,  and  zinc.  Alva  in  Stirlingshire,  Cumberland,  Devonshire 
and  Cornwall,  Schneeberg,  Slarienberg,  Joachimsthal,  Biobcr, 
Modum  (Norway),  Falun  (Sweden),  Bolivia. 

9.  Telluric  Bismuth,  BiaTcj. 

Bismuth  52,  tellurium  48.  Virginia,  Dahloncga  in  Georgia,  Mon- 
tana. A  variety  witli  7  per  cent,  of  selenium  am*  H. -2  also 
occurs. 

10.  Tethadymite,  BijTojS. 
Rhombohedral ;  3R  68"  10'.    'Almost  always   twins  of  SR  aud 

OR,  with  tho  faces  of  OR  at  93".  Cl.  basal,  perfect.  Sectile,  and  thin 
laminiE  flexible.  H.-l  to  5  ;  O. -72  to  7-6.  Steel-grey.  B.B. 
fuses,  yielding  a  grain  of  metal  which  ultimately  volntilizes.  SoL 
iu  n.  acid.  C.c:  596  bisnuitii,  GTrO  tellurium,  aud  4  3  sulphur. 
I  Schemnitz. 


MINERALOGY 


381 


11.  WxHBUTi,  Bi(Te,S). 

HexacoiuL  CL  basal.  H.-l  to2;  G. 'S'4'i.  Highlastre.  Steel- 
jroy.  C.C.:  bismnth  61  "15,  teUariuni  2974,  sulphnr  233,  silver 
S'07.     Deutsch-Pilseu  in  Hungary. 

12.  JosEITE,  Bi,Te,(SSe), . 

Hexagonal.  CL"  basaL  Q.  —  T'SS.  Colour  grey-black  to  steel- 
grey.  Brittle.  C.c:  tellurium  lB-93,  sulphnr  316,  selenium  1-48, 
bismntli  79  15.  San  Josi  (Brazil).  A  Cumberland  variety 
yielded  tellnrium  673,  sulohnr  6-43,  bismuth  84 '33,  corresponding 
to  Bi/TeS,). 

18.  DlAUONS,  C. 

Tar.  1.  Crystallixed.  — Cubic ;  very  frequently  hemihedral. 
Crystals  most  generally  with  curved  facea.  Twins  common  on  the 
octahedral  face  ;  hemitropes  also  common  (see  figs.  170,  204,  205, 
207).  Crystals  vary  remarkably  in  appearance  (see  figs.  259  to  262). 
CL  octahedral.  H. -10iG.-8-6to3-6.  Transparent,  or  translucent 
when  of  dark  colour.  Befracts  light  strongly.  The  back  planes  of 
diamonds  reflect  all  the  light  which  strikes  them  at  an  angle  exceed- 
ing 24*  13',  and  thence  comes  their  peculiar  brilliancy.  High 
adamantine  lustre.  Colourless,  but  often  tinged  white,  grey,  and 
brown, — more  rarely  yellow,  pink,  blue,  green,  and  black,  those  last 
named  being  the  rarest  Disperses  light  highly,  and  hence  emits 
brilliant  flashes  of  all  the  colours  of  the  spectrum.  Becomes  posi- 
tively electric  by  friction.     B.  B.  infusible,  hut  biims  into  carbonic 


Fig.  259.  Fig.  260. 

icid  in  oxygen  gas.  When  air  is  eicloded  is  unchanged  at  the 
temperature  of  melting  cast  iron,  but  at  that  of  melting  malleable 
iron  is  changed  into  a  black  coke,  or,  it  is  said,  into  graphite. 
Insoluble  in  all  acids  and  alkalies.  C.c:  carbon,  with  traces  of 
fiilica  and  earths.  Geologic  formation  apparently  a  laminated 
flexible  quartz  rock  called  itacolumite,  whica  occurs  in  Brazil,  the 
Urals,  Georgia,  and  North  Carolina,  in  the  vicinity  of  places  where 
diamonds  have  been  found.  Minute  crystals  have  been  found  in 
zanthophyllite,  and  in  talc  slate  and  serpentine,  in  the  Schischim- 
skian  hills,  near  Zlatoust  (Russia).  They  have  also  been  obtained 
in  Brazil  imbedded  in  a  conglomerate  composed  of  much-worn 
pebbles  of  quartz,  chalcedony,  and  gold,  cemented  by  limonite  or 


Fig.  261.  Fig.  262. 

ferruginous  clay.  In  South  Africa  tiey  are  imbedded  ia  a  steatitic 
clay.  Biamonda  were  formerly  obtained  in  India,  at  Panua,  Raol- 
eonda,  and  Golconda.  So  few  are  now  obtained  here  that  the  mines 
are  let  for  £1  a  year.  From  these  mines  were  obtained  not  only 
the  Kohinoor,  which  was  possibly  the  same  as  the  great  diamond 
mentioned  by  Tavernier  as  having  been  seen  Uy  him  in  the  pos- 
session of  the  Great  Mogul,  which  weighed  280  carats,  but  the 
Regent,  of  136  carats  (which,  not  only  from  its  size,  hot  from  the 
perfection  of  its  form,  is  very  much  the  finest  diamond  known),  the 
Nizam,  an  uncut  diamond  of  340  carats,  and  the  Carlow,  rose- 
cut,  193  carats.  More  lately  diamonds  were  found  in  great  quantity 
in  the  neighbourhood  of  Rio  Janeiro  in  Brazil ;  they  occur  in  two 
different  deposits  :  the  one  called  "gurgulho"  consists  of  broken 
quartz  covered  by  a  bed  of  sand  ;  the  other,  *'cascalho,"  consists 
of  rolled  quartz  pebbles  united  by  ferruginous  clay  ;  both  rest  on 
talcose  clays,  which  are  the  debris  from  talcose  rocks.  The  first 
deposit  affords  the  finest  diamonds,  and  both  contain  gold,  plati- 
num, magnetite,  and  rutile.  A  dodecahedral  diamond  ol  257 
carat3  was  lately  found  at  Bogagem  in  this  district;   this  wv 


reduced  by  cuttmg  to  an  oblong  brilliant  of  125  carats,  and  ii 
the  second  most  valuable  dian-ond,— the  Kohinoor,  now  reduced 
to  an  imperfectly  ciicuUr  brilliant  of  102  carats,  occi^pvim;  the 
third  place.  Tho  two  c.iloared  diamondii  most  worl'-v  ,jf  noU 
are  a  green  diamcind  in  the  DTM>!cn  collection  weighing  »  carats, 
which  13  a  little  deeper  in  imt  than  a  beryl,  and  a  blue  diamond 
in  the  Hope  collection,  of  44  carats,  as  highly  coloured  la  a 
sapphire,  which  it  is  by  some  considered  to  be.  Diamonds  have 
lately  been  found  in  very  large  quantities,  and  some  of  great  size 
north  of  the  Capo  of  Good  Hope;  these  for  the  most  part  are  of 
yellow  colour  and  of  very  inferior  value.  Wliile  a  Brazilian  cut 
brilliant  of  one  carat  is  worth  from  £20  to  £25,  the  value  of 
the  finest  brilliants  from  tho  Cape  is  only  from  £3  to  £4,  and  that 
of  the  yellow  diamonds  is  from  £2  to  £2,  lOs.  Apart  from  its 
employment  as  an  ornamental  stone,  the  diamond  has  an  intrinsic 
value  from  its  being  utilized  for  cutting  glass  and  for  grinding  i^i 
polishing  other  gems.  Of  late  years  its  usefulness  has  had  a  new 
application,  it  being  employed  for  the  drilling  of  rocks  in  tunnelling 
operations  and  in  the  boring  of  artesian  wells.  A  singular  observa- 
tion has  resulted  from  these  last  methods  of  utilizing  it,  namely, 
that  the  hardness  of  the  African  diamonds,  as  tested  by  the  amount 
of  their  endurance,  is  markedly  inferior  to  that  of  the  Brazilian  and 
Indian.  So  much  is  this  recognized  that,  while  the  bort,  or 
minute  crystals,  of  the  latter  command  a  price  of  15s.  per  carat,  the 
■African  can  be  got  for  about  5s.  The  cleavage  of  certain  of  the 
African  diamonds  is  so  eminent  that  even  the  heat  of  the  hand  causes 
some  of  them  to  fall  in  pieces.  Such  diamonds,  generally  octahedra, 
may  be  recognized  by  a  peculiar  watery  lustre  ;  they  are  called  plate 
diamonds.  The  above  facts  give  some  ground  for  the  supposition 
that  there  may  be  a  alight  difference  in  their  composition,  possibly 
that  both  may  contain  small,  but  different,  quantities  of  hydrogen. 
The  circumstances  under  which  diamonds  have  been  formed  are 
altogether  unknown.  The  fact  of  their  being  changed  into  a  kind 
of  coke  at  a  very  high  temperature  is  an  argument  against  their 
having  been  produced  through  the  operation  of  heat,  and  it  has  long 
been  known  that  an  excess  of  carbon  dissolved  by  molten  cast  iron 
crystallizes  on  cooling  in  the  form  of  graphite  ;  yet  the  only  attempts 
to  form  diamonds  deserving  of  bemg  mentioned  as  having  been 
attended  with  any  measure  of  success  are  those  in  which  sugar 
charcoal  was  dissolved  in  molten  silver  at  the  temperature  only  of 
melting  steel.  There  were  thus  obtained  a  few  minute  black  and 
also  colourless  octahed/al  and  cubo-octahedral  crystals  with  curved 
faces,  mingled  with  a  mach  larger  amount  of  graphitoidal  carbon. 
Var.  2.  Massive.  — In  black  pebbles  or  masses  called  carbonado, 
sometimes  1000  carats  in  weight.  H. -10;  G. -3012  to  8-42. 
C.c:  carbon  except  27  to  2  07  per  cent  of  ash.  Found  in  the 
mines  of  Baranco,  &c,  in  Bahia. 

Var.  3.  AnOnvcUic  — Like  anthracite,  but  scratches  the  diamond 
In  mammillar  masses,  partly  in  concentric  layers,  and  globular. 
Brittle.  G.  — 1'66.  C.c:  carbon  97,  hydrogen  -6,  oxygen  IS, 
When  cat  and  polished,  refracts  and  disperses  light,  like  the  diamond. 
Supposed  from  Brazil 

.14.  Graphitb,  C. 

Hexagonal  in  flat    crystals ;  p:p  85*  29'.      tJsually  foliated, 
scaly,  or  compact     CL  basaL    H.  — 0"6  tol ;  G.  — 19  to  2'2.    Lnstre 
metallic.     Colour  and  streak  black  to  dark  steel-grey  ;  flexible  in 
thin  laminie;  very  eectile;  feels 
greasy  ;  leaves  a  mark  on  paper 
of  its  own  colour;  conducts  elec- 
tricity.    B.B.  bums  with  diffi- 
culty ;    heated  with  nitre,   de- 
flagrates.      C.c. :  carbon,     with 
small     quantities     of     volatile 
matter,  and  ash  from  6  to  40  per 
cent     Stratlifarrer  (Invemess-sh 

Borrowdale  in  Cumberland,  Ural  Mountains,  Ceylon,  Greenlan(L' 
Used  for  making  pencils. 

15.  Tin,  Sn . 

Tetragonal  in  greyish  white  metallic  grains.  Reported  as  occur- 
ring with  Siberian  gold;  with  bismuthite  from  Guanajuato  in 
Mexico. 

16.  Iron,  Fe. 

Cubic;  in  grains  and  plates  or  disseminated.  H.  —  4"6;  G.  —  Native 
7  to  7  8.  Steel -grey  or  iron-black.  Fracture  hackly,  very  metala. 
magnetic  B.B.  infusible.  SoL  in  h.  acid.  Two  varieties 
are  to  be  distinguished,  (a)  Telhtric  Iron,  in  grains  and  plates. 
Almost  pure  iron,  or  contains  graphite,  carbon,  lead,  or  copper,  but 
no  nickel.  At  Chotzen  in  Bohemia  in  limestone  ;  in  an  argillaceous 
sandstone  in  the  keuper  at  Miihlhauscn ;  in  Thuringia  along  with 
fossils  ;  in  an  ironstone  con;;lomerate  in  Brazil,  and  in  lava  in 
Auvergne  ;  in  the  mine  of  Hackenburg ;  at  Bexley,  in  Liberia, 
Africa,  along  with  quartz,  a  zeolite,  and  magnetite  ;  enclosed  in 
magnetite  in  Unst  (Shetland)  and  in  Sutherlandsliire  ;  in  basalt  ia 
Antrim,  Ireland;  in  the  gold  sands  of  Brazil,  tho  Urals,  and  Olah- 
oisn  (Transylvania).      (J)  ifetmric  iron,  steel-grey  to  silver-white. 


Fig.  263. 
shire).  Mull,  Cralgman  (AyrshiteV 


382 


MINERALOGY 


Almost  always  ctmtaina  nickel,  with  cobalt,  copper,  and  several 
minerals  which  are  non-terrestriiil.  When  polished  and  etched 
with  nitric  acid  the  surface  is  marked  by  lines  of  unaffected  inter- 
lacing crystals  called  Widmannstatten's  figures  ;  most  of  the  nickel 
is  contained  in  these.  Occurs  in  masses  which  vary  in  size  from 
the  smallest  microscopic  dust  as  dredged  from  the  depths  of  the 
ocean  to  upwards  of  32,000  lb.  Mauy  of  these  masses  have  been 
seen  to  fall.  Several  (suspected,  however,  to  be  terrestrial)  have 
been  found  imbedded  in  a  basaltic  rock  near  Disco  Bay  in  Green- 
land, one  of  which  is  44,000  lb  in  weight.  Several  contain 
hydrogen  in  their  pores,  condensed  to  the  extent  of  eight  times  the 
volume  of  the  mass;  and  the  pitted  depressions  frequently  observable 
upon  their  surface  give  couutenance  to  the  view  that,  if  not  dis- 
charged frbm  a  volcanic  throat,  they  were  set  at  liberty  by  some 
sudden  disrupting  gaseous  explosion. 

17.  Zixo,  Zn. 

Khombohedral.  Said  to  be  found  in  large  hexagonal  pyramids. 
Cl.  basal,  perfect.  H. --2;  G. -7.  Lustre  metallic.  Colour  and 
streak  bluish  white.  Found  in  a  geodo  in  basalt  near  Melbourne, 
Australia,  coated  with  smithsonite,  erythrine,  and  aragonite.  Also 
in  the  gold  sands  of  the  Mittamitta  river. 

18.  Copper,  Cu. 

Cubic  (figs.  28,  30,  26,  33,  37,  264).  Twins,  on  an  octahedral  face. 
Crystals  genernlly  distorted  Often  filiform  and  arborescent,  or  in 
plates  and  lamins.  H.  =2'6  to  3;  G.  =8-5  to  8'9.  Lustre  dull 
metallic.  Colour  and  streak  copper-red, 
with  yellow  or  brown  tarnish.  B.B.  easily 
fusible,  colouring  the  outer  flame  green. 
Sol.  iA  n.  acid.  Occurs  in  many  rock 
(generally  igneous),  and  frequently  asso- 
ciated mth  zeolites.  In  the  Faroes,  Uiist 
(Shetland),  Cornwall,  Chessy  near  Lyons, 
tlie  Banat  (Hungary),  Siberia,  China, 
Mexico,  Brazil,  Chili,  and  Australia. 
Masses  of  great  size  are  found,  much  the 
1  irgest  being  from  the  Ontauagon  river, 
on    the    south    of    Lake    Superior.      One  Fig.  264. 

mass  found  in  February  1857  was  45  feet 

in  lennlh,  22  feet  in  width,  and  8  feet  in  thickness;  its  weight  was 
420  tons.  Another  was  found  in  1869,  65  feet  in  length,  32  in 
width,  and  from  4  to  7  feet  in  thickness;  this  weighed  upwards  of 
1000  tons^  and  had  a  value  of  400,000  dollars. 

19.  Lead,  Pb. 

Cubic,  but  only  in  thin  plates,  capillary  or  filiform.  Cl.  none. 
H.-1-5;  G.=ir36  to  ir4.  Irtictile,  malleable,  and  sectUe. 
Bluish  grey,  but  with  a  blackish  tarnish.  Found  in  lava  in  Madeira, 
nnd  at  the  mines  near  Cartagena  in  Spain  ;  in  amygdaloid  near 
Weissig  ;  in  basaltic  tufa  at  Rautenberg  in  Moravia  ;  with  gold  near 
Mount  Alatau  in  the  Altai,  at  Velika  in  Slavonia,  and  at  Olahpian 
in  Transylvania  ;  near  Ekaterinburg  in  the  Urals;  lu  the  distnct 
of  Zomolahuacan  in  Vera  Cruz,  in  foliated  galena,  in  granular  lime- 
stone ;  in  the  iron  and  manganese  bed  of  Paisberg  in  Wermland 
(Sweden),  with  hseraatitc,  magnetite,  and  hausmannite  ;  in  white 
quartz,  north-west,  near  the  Dog  Lake  of  the  Kaministiquia,  an 
affluent  of  Lake  Superior  ;  imbedded  in  hornstone  in  plates  and 
grains,  in  the  mine  of  Bogoslovskoi  in  the  Kirghiz  steppes;  in  gi-een- 
stone  porphyry  at  Stutzerbach  in  Thuringia  ;  with  bffimatite  in  the 
islands  of  Nias  on  the  west  coast  of  Sumatra. 

20.  Mercury,  Hg. 

Cubic.  Occurs  in  small  liquid  globules  in  its  gangue,  but  may 
be  sol  idified  at  -  39°,  when  it  forms  octahedral  crystals.  G.  - 1 3  -696 
when  liquid,  15'612  when  solid.  Lustre  brilliant  metallic;  tin- 
white.  B.B.  volatile,  sometimes  leaving  a  little  silver.  Readily 
n.  acid.  Occurs  generally  in  clay  shales  or  schists  of  dif- 
:es.  The  globules  of  mercury  are  usually  found  in  rents 
bar,  or  accompanjing  calomel,  at  most  of  the  localities  for 
nerals.  Found  at  Idria  in  Carniolaand  Almadcn  in  Spain, 
it  is  obtained  by  washing  a  soft  clay  slate.  In  Transylvania 
-.nd  Galicia  springs  issuing  from  the  Carpathian  sandstone  bear 
along  globules  of  mercury.  At  the  Pioneer  mine  in  California  some 
of  the  quartz  geodes  contain  several  pounds  of  mercury.  At  Cividale 
in  Lombardy  it  is  found  in  an  Eocene  marl.  It  has  also  been 
observed  occasionally  in  drift,  and  has  even  been  stated  to  have 
been  found  in  a  peat  bog. 

21.  Silver,  Ag. 

Cubic  (figs.  26,  30,  83,  40,  37).  Crystals  generally  small,  also  and 
most  fre<iuently  filiform,  arborescent,  and  in  plates  or  crusts.  These 
either  project  into  cavities,  coat  their  surfaces,  or  ramify  in  a  reticu- 
lated manner  throughout  the  mass  of  the  rock.  Twins  of  octahedral 
and  trapozohedral  composition.  Noel.  If. —2-5  to  8;  G. -lO-l 
toll-1.  Lustre  metallic.  Colonrandstreaksilver-wbitc,  but  generally 
tarnished  yellow,  brown,  or  black.  Malleable,  ductile,  andsectilo, 
but  less  80  than  gold.  B.B.  easily  fusible.  Sol.  in  n.  acid; 
the  flolution  colours   the   skin   block.     C.c  ;  silver,  with  varying 


sol. 
ferent  i 


these 
At  Id 


proportions  of  gold,  platinum,  mercury,  copper,  antimony,  and 
bismuth.  The  auriferous  from  Norway  contains  silver  72,  gold  28  ; 
from  quartz  reefs  in  Sutherland,  silver  7r4,  gold  28'tf.  The 
cupriferous  from  Courcy  near  Caen  contains  10  per  cent,  of  copper. 
The  antimoniaj  from  Bohemia  contains  1  per  cent,  of  antimony. 
The  mercurial  from  Kongsberg  in  Norway  baa  '4  of  mercury,  found 
chiefly  in  veins  in  gneiss,  clay  slate,  and  limestone.  Localities  : 
Alva  and  elsewhere  in  Scotland,  Ballycorua  in  Ireland,  and  Cornwall 
in  England  ;  at  Freiberg,  Andreasberg,  and  Kongsberg ;  along 
with  narive  copper  at  Lake  Superior  ;  in  Mexico,  in  Peru,  and  in 
the  United  States.  The  finest  crystallized  silver  occurs  at  Lake 
Superior,  and  at  Kongsberg.  At  the  last  locality  the  crystals 
are  an  inch  in  diameter,  and  are  disposed  on  large  filiform 
brushes.  Silver  occurs  in  large  masses;  three  of  436,  560,  812  lb 
have  been  recorded  from  Kongsberg.  A  block  which  smelted 
44,000  lb  was  for  some  years  used  as  a  table  by  Duke  Albert  on 
his  annual  visits  of  inspection  to  the  Schneeberg  mine  in  Saxony. 
A  Mexican  specimen  was  found  of  400  lb;  the  mines  of  Huantaya 
in  Peru  have  yielded  masses  of  444  and  960  lb.  Britain  produces 
annually  about  760,000  cz.  of  silver,  chiefly,  however,  from  lead 
ores.  The  value  of  annual  produce  for  the  whole  world  from  all 
sources  is  from  8  to  10  millions  of  pounds  sterling. 

22.  ScHNEiDERiTE  {Gold  Amalgam),  AujHgg. 

Tetragonal  four-sided  prisms,  easily  crumbling,  yellowish  white 
to  white  ;  sometimes  in  grains  the  size  of  a  pea.  C.c. :  gold  41  '63, 
mercUry  68'37.  Found  at  Mariposa  in  California.  A  variety 
(An,  Ag)3  Hgfl  is  found  along  with  platinum  in  Columbia ;  thifl 
contains  gold  38 '39,  silver  5,  mercury  57 '40. 

23.  Arqiterite,  AggHg. 

Cubic.  In  octahedra,  also  In  grains  and  dendrites.  G.  — 10*8. 
Like  native  silver,  but  softer.  C.c. :  silver  86 "5,  mercury  13'5.  From 
Arqueros  in  Coquimbo,  Chili.  Kongshei-gite,  AgigHg,  occurs  at 
Kongsberg,  with  95*1  of  silver  and  4*9  of  mercury. 

24.  Amalgam,  Ag. Hgg,  andAgFgj. 

Cubic  (fig.  33,  in  combination  with  40,  SO,  41,  38).  Cl.  dodeca- 
hedral.  H.-3to3-5;  a=10-6tol4.  Colour  and  streak  silver- 
white.  Fracture  conchoidal,  brittle,  grates  when  cut.  In  closed 
tube  yields  mercury  and  leaves  silver.  Sol.  in  n.  acid.  The  first 
variety  (silver  34'8,  mercury  65'2)  occurs  at  Moschellandsberg 
in  the  Palatinate,  where  the  veins  of  mercury  and  silver  intersect 
one  another;  the  second  (silver  26 "25,  mercury  7375)  there, 
and  also  at  Allemont  in  Dauphine,  Almaden  in  Spain,  in 
Hungary,  and  in  Sweden.  From  Rosilla  in  Atacama  (Chili) 
Domeyko  reports  the  following  other  compounds;  AggHg^,  silver 
46*8,  mercury  53"2,  white  and  silvery  ;  AgHg,  silver  55 1,  mercury 
44'9,  granular  and  dull;  Ag^Hga,  silver  642,  mercury  35  8;  of  the 
last  there  is  a  mass  weighing  22  tt)  in  the  rausemn  of  Santiago. 

25.  Gold,  Au  . 

Cubic  (figs.  30,  26,  33,  40,  36)  and  more  complex  forms.  Crystals 
generally  small  and  indistinct  through  elongation,  assuming  capillary 
and  arborescent  shapes.  Also  in  thin  plates.  Twins  rare;  twin  face 
octahedral.  Frequently  in  rounded  and  apparently  colloidal  masses 
impacted  in  clay,  or  loose  in  small  grains  (pipettes)  rolling  in  the 
bed  of  streams.  Fig.  265  is  of  such  a  mass  found  in  Sutherland. 
No  ch  H.  -2-5  to  3  ;  G.  -17  to  19*4.  Lustre  metallic,  but  fre- 
quently dull  and  partly 
coated  with  a  brown  crust. 
Colour  and  streak  yellow- 
ish white  to  bright  gold- 
yellow.  Malleable,  ductile, 
and  sectile ;  the  purer 
varieties  the  more  so  and 
the  softer..  B.B.  easily 
fusible.  Sol.  in  aqua  regia, 
generally  with  precipitation 
of  chloride  of  silver.  Solu- 
tion yellow,  stains  skin 
purple-red,  with  corrosion. 

C.c. :  gold,  with  silver  from  72  to  20  per  cent ;  somotimes  iron  and 
copper  under  1  per  cent.  Found  in  beds  and  veins  generally  of 
quartz  in  metamorphic  rocks  of  a  schistose  nature,  rarely  in  diorite 
and  porphyry,  and  very  rarely  in  granite.  Its  general  associate 
is  limonite,  formed  from  decomposition  of  pyrite  ;  sometimes  also 
hfcmatite  ond  ningnetitc.  Occui-s  also  in  microscopic  grains  in 
quartz,  from  which  it  is  extracted  by  crushing  and  amalgamation. 
The  geologic  range  is  from  the  Azoic  to  the  Tertiary  and  Cretaceous, 
as  in  CuUfornift  ;  but  even  in  these  more  recent  rocks  the  original 
source  must  have  been  at  least  Palaeozoic.  Of  localities  which  yield 
goli  the  following  may  be  noticed  : — the  Leadhills  in  Scotland, 
Wicklow  in  Ireland,  Dolgelly  in  North  Wales,  Cornwall  in 
England  ;  Transylvania,  Hungary,  and  Piedmont;  the  Urals, 
Ekaterinburg,  and  India  ;  Kordofan,  the  coast  opposite  Madagas- 
car, and  the  Gold  Coast  (the  fame  of  which  has  been  recently  re- 
vived) ;    Minas   Geraes   in    Brazil,  Bolivia,    North    Carolina,  and 


MINERALOGY 


383 


Cslifornia ;.  and  more  recently  Kew  Sonth  Wales  and  Qaeenaknd 
in  Australia,  Tasmania,  and  New  Zealand. 

Some  of  the  largest  single  masses  ofgoldfonnd  in  recent'times  are 
the  following: — one  of  22  oz,  in  Transylvania,  of  28  lb  in  North 
Carolina,  of  20  lb  in  California,  one  of  96  lb  troy  near  Miask  in  the 
TJrals,  and  one  of  181  lb  8  oz.,  which. yielded  £8376,  lOs.  6d.,  at 
Ballarat,  Australia. 

The  annual  produce  of  gold  from  Australia  is  about  5  millions  of 
pounds  sterling,  of  the  United  States  about  IS  millions,  and  the 
whole  earth  about  23  millions.  • 

The  following  snb-species  may  be  noticed  : — 

1.  SUctrvm.  This  name  for  the  alloys  of  gold  and  sUver 
wa«  applied  by  Pliny,  whenever  the  proportion  of  the  latter 
metal  was  one-l^th.  An  alloy  of  2  gold  and  1  silver  contains  21  per 
cent,  of  silver ;  this  is  found  in  Sutherland.  One  of  I  to  1  contains 
86  per  cent,  of  silver,  this  last  being  the  most  usual  proportion. 
It  occurs  in  Transylvania,  in  the  Altai,  and  in  Colombia.  Its 
colour  is  brass-yellow  to  yellowish  white.     G.— 12"5  to  15'5. 

2.  Porpezite,  or  Palladium  Oold  (mro-poudri),  from  Porpez  in 
Brazil,  contains  985  per  cent,  of  palladium  and  4"17  of  silver. 

S.  Hlwdium  Geld,  from  Mexico(G. —15'6  to  16'8),  contains  from 
84  to  43  per  cent  of. rhodium. 

26.  Platiitvm,  Pt. 

Cubic ;  rarely  in  small  cubes  or  octahedrons,  usually  in  minute 
scaly  grains,  sometimes  cohering,  and  also  in  rounded  lumps.  No  cL 
H.  — i  to  4'6;  G.  — 17to  19.  Lustre  metallic.  Colour  and  streak  pale 
■teel-grey.  Malleable  and  ductile  with  difficulty,  haying  a  hackly 
fracture.  When  containing  much  iron,  magnetipolar.  B.B.  in- 
fusible. SoL  iu  aqua  regia,  but  only  when  heated  ;  solution  red ; 
corrodes  the  skin.  C.c:  platinum,  but  never  to  a  greater  extent 
than  86  "5  per  cent.  The  remainder  consists  of  iron,  iridium,  rhodium, 
palladium,  osmium,  gold,  copper,  and  a  mechanical  mixture  of  irid- 
osmine.  The  iron  exists  in  quantities  varying  from  4  '3  per  cent,  to 
double  that  amount.  Occurs  in  Brat^l  in  syenite  ;  near  Popayan 
(Colombia)  in  alluvium,  associated  with  chromite,  iridium,  palla- 
dium, gold,  and  copper ;  in  the  Urals  in  alluvium  derived  from 
crystalline  rocks;  and  at  Nijui-Tagilsk  in  serpentine  along  with 
chromite.  It  is  also  found  in  Borneo,  California,  and  Carolina,  and 
is  said  to  have  been  found  in  the  county  of  Wicklow  in  Ireland. 
The  sands  of  many  rivers  yield  it  in  small  amount.  Platinum  does 
not  occur  in  large  masses.  A  masa  in  the  Madrid  Museum  from 
Condoto  weighs  2^\  oz. ;  masses  have  been  found  in  the  Urals  from 
11  to  21  lb. 

Iron  Plalina  is  a  sub-species.  This,  which  ha.s  a  composition 
FoPt^,  and  contains  from  11  to  13  per  cent,  of  iron,  is  found  at 
Nijui-Tagilsk.  G.  — 14'6  to  16'8  ;  H.  — 6.  It  is  magnetipolar,  and 
attracts  iron  much  more  strongly  than  an  ordinary  magnet. 

27.  PLATINIBIDnrM. 

In  minute  silver- white  grains.  H.  -6  to  7  ;  0.  —16 '94  to  228. 
Contains  55'44  platinum,  27 '79  iridium,  686  rhodium,  414  iron, 
S'3  copper,  '49  palladium.     Is  found  in  Brazil 

28.  iBIDtlTH,  Ir. 

Cubic  (fig.  27).  H.  -6  to  7;  G.  -21 '57  to  23'46.  CI  cubic,  traces. 
Very  slightly  malleable.  Silver- white  to  steel-grey.  B.B.  nn- 
changcd.  Insoluble  in  all  acids.  C.c.  :  76 '8  iridium,  19 '64 
platinum,  0'89  palladium,  1'78  copper.  Found  at  Nijni-Tagilsk, 
generally  in  minute  grains.     Is  the  heaviest  known  substance. 

.4v(ii<<,  sub-speciej.  From  Ava  in  India.  C.c:  60  iridium, 
20  platinum  (according  to  Prinsep). 

29.  Palladium,  Pd. 

Cubic  ;  in  minute  octahedrons,  and  in  grains.  H.  —  4  '5  to  5 ;  G.  — 
ll'Stoll'S.  Malleable.  Light  steel-grey.  B.B.  infusible.  Slowly 
dissolves  in  n.  acid,  forming  a  brown-red  solution.  C.c:  palla- 
dium, with  a  little  platinum  and  iridium.  From  the  gold  sands 
of  Brazil,  often  in  small  plumose  crystalline  lumps.  Also  from  St 
Domingo,  and  the  Urals.     Does  r  '>t  tarnish  with  sulphurous  fumes. 

30.  Allopalladium,  Pd,. 

Hexagonal ;  in  small  flat  hexagons,  d.  basal,  perfect  Lustre 
piright  silvery.  Colour  pale  steel-grey.  From  Tilkerode  in  the 
Harz,  with  gold. 

31.  Nkwjanskite  (,Osmxndium),  IrOs  (iridium  4978,  osmium 
BO'22)  and  IrjOs. 

Hexagonal;  P  124°.  OP,  P,  ooP.  Generally  in  flat  scales. 
CI.  basal  perfect  H. -7;  G.- 18 '8  to  19 '47.  Lustre -metallic. 
Colour  tin-white.  B.  B.  unchanged.  Insoluble 
in  all  acids.  The  analyses  of  this  mineral  give 
quantities  of  iridium  varying  from  44  to  77  per 
cent ,  and  of  osmium  from  21  to  49.  Ruthenium, 
rhodium,  and  platinum  make  np  the  100  parts. 
The  largest  quantity  of  ruthenium  is  8 '49,  and 
one  variety  from  New  Granada  was  found  to  contain  no  ruthenium, 
tint  12'3  of  rhodium,  which  is  more  than  double  its  usual  amount 
OwQis  Tvith  platinum  in  Chooo  (Colombia) ;    at  Newjansk  and 


several  localities  in  the  Urals,  in  Anstralia,  in  northern  (Mifomis 
(somewhat  abundantly  in  gold  sands),  also  in  Oinada. 

82.  SISSERSKITE  (Iridosmium),  IrOs^  (iridium  19'9,  osmium  80^) 
and  IrOsj  (iridium  24'8,  osmium  75 '2). 

Rhombohcdral;  R  =  84''28'.  H. -7'5  i  G.  =  21'12.  Colourleail- 
grey  to  bluish.  B.B.  becomes  black,  with  strong  odour  of  osmic 
acid ;  in  flame  of  spirit-lamp  shines  strongly,  and  colours  flame 
yellowish  red.  Occurs  in  smUl  quantity  with  newjanskite  at  all 
its  localities,  and  in  proportionally  larger  quantity  at  Sissersk  in  the 
Urals.  It  is  used  for  pointing  gold  pens,  and  in  the  United  States 
sells  at  60  dollars  an  ounce. 

COMPOO'jftDS  OF  FLUORINE,  CHLORINE,  BROMINE, 
AND  IODINE  (HALOID  SALTS). 

33.  Fldobite  {Fluor-spar),  CaF . 

Cubic  (figs.  267  to  270,  also  figs.  31,  33,  36,  65,  66,  57,  68);  also 
divergent  crystalline,  granular,  and  compact.  Cl.  octahedral ; 
fracture  conchoidal ;  trittle.  H.  =  4 ;  G.  ■?■  3  1  to  3  '2.  Transparent 
to  pellucid.  Lustre  vitreous.  Colourless,  but  generally  colomed 
purple,  blue,  green,  yellow,  white,  black,  and  pink.  Sometime* 
two  or  three  colours  disposed  in  layers  in  one  crystaL     Frequently 


Fig.  256. 


Fig.  269.  Fig.  270. 

phosphoresces  with  difl'erent  tints  of  light,  when  heated.  B.  B .  de- 
crepitates and  fuses  to  an  opaque  bead.  Sol.  in  s.  acid  with  evolution 
of  hydrofluoric  add.  C.c  :  51 '3  calcium,  48'7  fluorine.  Common 
in  veins,  generally  associated  with  metallic  ores.  Shetland,  Suther- 
land, on  the  Avon,  and  Ballater  in  Scotland;  Cumberland, 
Northumberland,  Derbyshire,  and  Cornwall;  Saxony,  Bohemia, 
Freiberg.  Used  to  be  turned  into  vases  and  other  ornaments  ("blue 
John  ") ;  formerly  employed  as  a  flux,  now  for  etching  and  obscuring 
glass. 

34.  Yttrocerite. 

In  crystalline  crusts.  H.  =  4to  6  ;  G. -8'4  to3'5.  Translucent; 
vitreous.  Violet-blue  to  grey  or  white.  B.B.  infusible.  Evolves 
fluorine  when  heated  with  sulphuric  acid.  C.c:  fluorides  of  cerium, 
yttrium,  and  calcium.  Finbo  and  Broddbo  near  Falun  (Sweden), 
Massachusetts  and  New  York. 

35.  Fluoceeite,  CeF-HCcjF,. 

HeiagonaL  H. -4  to  5;  G. -4'7.  Opaque  or  translucent  on  the 
edges.  Pale  brick-red  or  yellowish  ;  streak  yellowish  white.  B.B. 
infusible.  In  closed  tube  gives  out  hydrofluoric  acid.  C.c:  82 '64 
peroxide  of  cerium,  1'12  vttria,  16'24  hydrofluoric  acid.  Finbo 
and  Broddbo. 

36.  Flupceeine,  CejF,-f(Ce,0,-fH,0). 

Massive  ;  fracture  conchoidaL  H.  =4' 6  to  6.  Opaque  ;  resinous. 
Bright  yellow  to  reddish  brown  ;  streak  brownish  yellow.  B.B. 
infusible,  darkens  with  the  heat ;  colour  restored  on  cooling.  C.c: 
ccrium  17'6,  fluorine  10'9,  sesquioxide  of  cerium  66'4,  water  6'1. 
From  Finbo. 

37.  Bastnaesite,  Ce,F,-f  Ce,Oa-h4HjO,  and 

38.  HAMAE'nTE,2(LaO,CeO)3CO,-hCeF^are similar.  Thefirstia 
from  Baatnaes  in  Sweden,  the  second  from  Pike's  Peak  in  Coloiada 


384 


MINERALOGY 


Fig.  271. 


Fig.  272  (species  42). 


S9.  Fldellite,  AL,F,. 

Right  prismatic.  In  acute  rhombic  octahedrons  with  troncated 
Spex.  Polaredges  109°6' and  SQ'IZ",  middle  144°.  H.-3.  Laatro 
ntroooB.    Colour  white;  transparent     Stenna-gwyn  in  Cornwall. 

40.  Cryolite,  SNaF  +  AljF,. 

Anorthic  ;  but  mostly  in  cleav- 
»ble  masses.  M:T  9V5T  ;  P:T 
90°  2*;  P:M  90°  40'.  CI.  P 
perfect,  U  and  T  imperfect ; 
brittle.  H.  -  2  -5 ;  G.  -  2  -9  to  3  03. 
Vitreoaa,  somewhat  pearly  on  P. 
Translucent ;  after  immersion  in 
water  transparent.  Colourless  and 
snow-white ;  but  when  deep-seated 
brown  to  black.  Melts  even  in 
flame  of  candle  to  a  white  enamel. 
In  open  tube  traces  of  hydrofluoric 
ocid.  Sol.  in  8.  acid.  C.c:  alumi- 
nium 13,  sodium  32-8,  fluorine  54-2. 
Arksutfiord,  Greenland  ;  Miask, 
Siberia.  Used  for  manufacture  of  a  white  glass,  and  extraction  of 
clnmioium. 

41.  AEKStrriTK,  (CaNa)jF-l-AL,F,.     Ca:Na=-l:3. 

Massive  granular.  H. -2-6;  G. -3-03  to  3-18.  CI.  one  distinct 
Vitreous;  whit«-{  translucent  C.c:  aluminium  18*6,  sodium  23*3, 
calcium  6-8,  fluorine  61 'S.     Arksutfiord. 

42.  Chiolite,  3NaF-l-2AljFs. 
Pyramidal,  and   twins   (fig.    272). 

Middle  edge  111°  14'.  Mostly  granu- 
lar. CL  imperfect.  H.-4;  0.-284 
to  2 '9,  Resinous  ;  white.  Fuses  more 
easily  thau  cryolite  ;  evolves  hydro- 
fluoric acid.  C.c. :  aluminium  186, 
sodium  23 '4,  fluorine  68.  Ilmen 
Uts.  near  Miask. 

48.  Chodneffite,  2NaF-fAIjF,. 

G.  -3.     Other  characters  like  chiolite,  and  from  same  locality. 

44.  PACHNOLfTE,    3(CaNa)F -h Al jF, -)- 2HjO .     Ca:Na-3:2. 
Oblique  prismatic.    ooP  98°  34';  always  twins.    Vitreous ;  white ; 

aemitransparent  C.c. :  aluminium  12'3,  calcium  16'1,  sodium  12'4, 
Suorine  61 '1,  water  8'1.  Evolves  water  with  crackling,  when 
heated  ;  other  characters  like  cryolite,  along  with  which  it  occurs  in 
Greenland. 

45.  TuoMSENOLiTE,   2(CaNa)F -H AljF,-H 2H,0 .     Ca:Na-7:8. 
Oblique  prismatic.     Prismatic  planes  striated;   ooP  89°  (fig.  273), 

CI.  basal,  perfect.  H. -2-5  to  4  ;  G. -274  to2'76.  Vitreous;  cleav- 
age face  pearly.  White  with  yellow  crust;  translu- 
cent C.c:  eluminium  15,  calcium  16"4,  sodium 
7  -6,  fluorine  52  '2,  water  9-8.  B.  B.  fuses  more  easily 
than  cryolite  to  clear  glass,  decrepitating  violently. 
Along  with  cryolite  in  Greenland. 

46.  GEARKStTTiTE,  CaJF-l-Al3F3■^4HaO. 
Earthy.    H.  =2.    White;   dull ;  opaque-    C.c: 

aluminium  15"6,  calcium  19*3,  sodium  2*5,  fluorine 
41  ".2^  water  20  '3.     Along  with  cryolite. 

47.  EviOTuKiTE,  2CaF5  +  Al,jFe  +  2H,0. 
Crystalline.     Soft ;  brittl  <;  like  kaolin.     O.c. : 

calcium   22-39,    aluminium    16'23,    sodium    '43, 

fluorine  65-24,  water  5-71.     Arksutfiord,   Green-  "i-  -"3  (sp.  46). 

bnd. 

48.  Pkosopite. 
Oblique  prismatic.     A   hydrated  silico-fluorido 

•f  aluminium  and  calcium.  H.  —  4;  G.  —  2-89. 
Colourless  imbedded  crystals.  From  the  tin- 
mines  of  Altcnberg. 

49.  Calomel,  HgjCl. 
Pyramidal ;  P  136°  60'  (fig.  274).     H.  -1  to  2  ; 

O.  — 6-4  to  6-5.  Translucent ;  adamantine.  Yel- 
lowish white  to  grey.  Sublimes  unchanged  in  closed 
tube ;  with  soda  yields  mercury.  InsoT.  in  n.  acid. 
C.C- :  mercury  85,  chlorine  16.  Moschellnndsberg, 
Jdria,  Almaden. 

50.  SvLViTp,  KCl: 
Cubio  (figs.  26,  30);   also  massive.     CI.   cubic. 

•H. -2;     G- 1-9    to    2.       White    or    colourless.  97,  ,„   ,r,. 

Vitreous;  soluble;  taste  like  common  salt  "»■  ■"»  W- '"'- 
C.c:  potassium  626,  chlorine  47-5.  li.B.  fuses,  and  colours 
flame  violet.     Crater  of  Vesuvius,  and  salt  lieds  of  SUssfurt 

61.  Halite  {Cmmium  Salt,  Rock-aalt),  NaCl. 

Cubic  ffig.21) ;  generally  granular,  sometimes  fibrous.    CI.  cubic. 


H.  — 2;  O.  — 2'1  to  22.  Transparent  to  translucent;  vitreous 
Colourless  or  white ;  but  often  coloured  red,  yellow,  or  blue. 
Taste  saline.  B.  B.  fuses  and  partly  evaporates ;  colours  flame 
yellow.  C.C.I  sodium  393,  chlorine  607.  In  great  bods  «l 
Wieliczka,  Salzburg,  Bex,  tc,  on  the  Continent;  Cheshire  ii 
England.  As  an  efflorescence  in  Brazil,  Abyssinia,  the  Caspian  and 
Aral  Seas.  As  a  sublimation  among  lavas  at  Vesuvius  and  othef 
volcanoes. 

52.  Salmi  AC,  NH^Cl. 

Cubic  (figs,  30,  40,  and  41  with  26,  S3,  40).  CI.  octahedral  ;  also 
atalactitic,  globular,  and  as  an  efflorescence.  H.  =  1  -5  to  2 ;  G.  —  1  '5 
to  1  -6.  Pellucid  ;  vitreous.  Colourless,  but  sometimes  stained. 
Taste  pungent.  B.B.  directly  volatile  ;  in  copper  colours  flame 
blue-green.  C.c.  :  32  ammonia,  66-4  chlorine.  A  sublimate  oi 
active  volcanoes.  Vesuvius,  island  of  Volcano,  Iceland,  Neai 
coal-seams  which  have  taken  fire,  in  Scotland  and  at  Newcastle, 

53.  Chloro-Calcite,    CaCl-H(KCl,  NaCl). 
Cubic.     Vesuvian  bombs. 

64.  Cerakqteite,  AgCl . 

Cubic  (fig.  26).  Twins  on  octahedral  face.  No  cL  ;  chiefly 
massive  in  crusts.  H.  —  1  to  1'5  ;  G.  -=5-5  to  5-6.  Fracture  con. 
choidal.  Malleable.  Translucent;  adamantine  to  resinous.  Grey, 
yellowish,  and  greenish.  B.B.  fuses  easily  to  a  dark  bead,  reduced 
m  inner  flame.  Soluble  in  ammonia.  C.c:  silver  76,  chlorine 
26.     Johann-Georgenstadt,  ilexico,  Pom. 

65.  Embolitf.,  2AgBr-f3AgCT. 

Cubic  (fig.  29);  also  massive  or  concretionary,  H.  —  ltol-6; 
G.  "5-8.  Adamantine  to  resinous.  Green  and  yellowish  green, 
C.c:  silver  67,  chlorine  13,  bromine  20.    Chili,  Mexico,  Honaoraa 

56.  Bromite,  AgBr. 

Cubic  (figs.  26,  SO).  H.  =  1  to  2;  G.  =  5  -8  to  6.  Splendent  Yellow 
to  olive-green  ;  streak  siskin-green.  B.B.  fusible  easily.  Co.: 
silver  57-5,  bromine  42-5.     San  Onofre  and  Plateros  (Mexico),. 

67.  Iodite,  Agl . 

'Hexagonal.  CI.  basal;  also  massive,  and  in  crystalline  plates 
some  inches  in  width  ;  these  are  flexible.  H.  —  1  to  1  '5  ;  G.  — 
6'6to  5-7.  Translucent ;  adamantine-  Citron  and  sulphur-yellow ; 
streak  yellow.  B.B.  fusible,  colours  the  flame  purple-red,  and 
leaves  button  of  silver.  C.c:  silver  46,  iodine  64.  Zacatecas  Ib 
Mexico,  Algodones  in  Chili  Arizona,  rarely  in  Spain. 

68.  COCCINITE,  Hglj. 

In  grains  of  an  adamantine  lustre,  from  Casas-Viejas  in  Mexico, 
Colour  red  to  yellow  ;  in  acute  rhombic  nrisms.  Also  from  Zimapas 
and  Culebras. 

69.  TocoRNACLrre,  AgI-(-Hg,I , 
Amorphous,  yellow,  soft.     Chafiarcillo  in  ChilL 

60.  COTtTNNlTE,  PbCl, 

Ri^ht  prismatic  H.  -  2 ;  0.-6  238.  Transparent ;  high  ada- 
mantine to  pearly.  White.  Co.:  lead  74,  chlorine  26.  Crater  of 
Vesuvius. 

61.  MoLTsrrr,  Fe,Cl,. 

Incrusting.  Brownish  red  and  yellow.  On  lavas  of  Vesuvius, 
C.c:  iron  34-5,  chlorine  66-5. 

62.  Carnallite,  KCl-^2MgCl-^]2HJO. 

Right  prismatic.  Noel.  Conchoidal  fracture,  H.  — 2  to  2'6; 
G.  — 1-6.  -Colourless,  generally  red  from  iron.  C.c:  84 '2  chloride 
of  magnesium,  26  9  chloride  of  potassium,  38-9  water.  Stassfurt, 
Galicia,  Persia. 

63.  Tachhydrite,  CaCl-H2MgCl-f  12HjO. 

Massive.  Yellow,  translucent,  very  deliquescent.  In  anhydrite. 
C.c:  calcium  7"46,  magnesium  9-61,  chlorine  40-34,  water  42"69. 
Stassfurt. 

64.  Kremersite,  KCUNH.Cl-f  Fe,Cl,-f3H,0. 

Cubic ;  in  octahedra.  Ruby-red.  Soluble.  Fnmaroles  of 
Vesuvius. 

65.  ERiTHROsiDEnn-E,  2KCl-fFe,Cl,-(-2H,0. 
Righ  t  prismatic .     Vcsm-ian  lava, 

66.  Matlockite,  PbCl-t-PbO. 

Pyramidal;  P  136°  17'.  Crystals  tabular.  CL  basal;  fracture 
conchoidal.  H. -2-5;  G. -7-21.  Translucent;  adamantine. 
Yellowish  white.  B.  B.  fuses  cosily  with  decrepitation  ;  coloura 
flame  blue.  C.c:  chloride  of  lead  SDS.  oxide  of  lead  44"6. 
Ciomford  in  Derbyshire. 

67.  MENDiriTE,  PbCl-H2PbO. 

Right  prismatic;  chiefly  massive  CI.  ooP  perfect  102°  86'.  H.-2-5 
to  3;  G. -7-to  7-1.  Fracture  conchoidal.  Translucent;  adaman- 
tine to  pearly.    Yellowish  or  greyish  white.    BB.  decrepitates,  fuses 


MINERALOGY 


385 


Fig.  276  (sp.  69). 


«*oly.  SoL  in  n.  acid.  C.c.  :  cUoride  of  lead  40,  protoxide  of 
lead  60.     Uendip  Hills,  and  Brilon  in  YTeatphalia, 

68.  SOHWASTrEMBBEQITE,  PbI+2PbO. 

Bbombohedial ;  in  thin  crusts.     H.  -2  to  2'5  ;  G.  -67  to  6'8. 
Adamantine.    Honey-yellow.     Desert  of  Ata- 
cama. 

69.  Ataoamitb,  CnCld-3CaO,HjO. 

Eight  prismatic  ;  ooP  (JO  112°  25',  ?«>  (P) 

105°  Iff,  oof  ao  (A)  (6g.  275);  also  reniform. 
CL    h    perfect.      Semitransparent ;     vitreous. 

Emerald  -  green  ;  streak  apple- 
green.  B.  B.  fuses,  leaving  cop- 
er. Easily  soluble  in  acids. 
!.c.  :    copper  protoxide   55  "85, 

copper    I486,    clilorine    16'61, 

water   12 '68.     Atacama,   Cliili ; 

Tarapaca,  Peru ;  Bolivia  ;  Burra- 

Borra,     Australia ;     Serra    de 

Bembe,  Ambriz,  Airica  ;  Vesu- 

Tius  and  (!)  Etna. 

70.  Tallinoitk,  Cua,  HjO-UCqO,  H,0. 
In  crusts.     H. -3;    G. -3-5.     Bright  blue  to 

greenish   blue.     Translucent :  brittle.      Botallack 
in  CornwalL 

71.  Pekctlite,  (PbCl  +  PbOj-KCua-t-CuO). 
Cubic  (com.  of  figs.    26,  30,   S3,  36).     H.-2. 

Vitreous.     Sky-blue.     Sonora  in  Mexico. 

72.  CoffKBLLITE. 

rig.  276  (sp.  72).  H^j^onaj  (gg  276).  b  :  r  U3' IV  ;  r  :  r  132° 
60*.  Crystals  acicular.  Vitreous ;  translucent.  Vitriol-blue.  A 
chloride  and  sulphide  of  copper.  Wheal  Unity  and  Wheal  Damsel 
(Oomwall). 

OXIDES  OF  METALS. 

I.   SlTBOXIDES  XKD  PBOTOZIDE.S. 

73.  CtJPEITK,  CujO 

Cubic  (fies.  22,  30,  33,  26,  with  39,  40).  Compact  and  granular, 
a.  octohedral ;  brittle.  H. -3-5  to  4  ;  G. -67  to  6.  Transparent 
and  opaque  ;  adamantine.  When  transparent,  crimson ;  when 
opaque,  cochineal  or  brick-red.  Often  tarnished  grey.  B.  B. 
becomes  black,  fuses,  and  is  reduced  on  charcoal.  Soluble  in  acids 
and  in  ammonia.  C.c.  :  88'9  copper,  ll'l  oxygen.  Cornwall, 
Siberia,  Benat,  Chessy  near  Lyons,  Linares  in  Spain,  Urals,  South 
Africa,  BurraBorra.  Valuable  copper  ore.  ChaUxtrichiU  consists 
of  cubes  elongated  so  as  to  become  fibrous.  Tile-ore  is  a  ferruginous 
variety.  Hepatic  copper,  liver  ore,  or  pitchy  copper  ore  seems  to 
be  a  product  of  the  decomposition  of  chalcopyrite.  DclafowiU, 
Ca,0  -t-  Fe,0, ,  from  Bohemia  and  Siberia. 

74.  Watbb,  H,0  . 

Hexagonal,  when  solid,  in  complex  twins  in  snow  crystals; 
rhombohedrio.  by  cleavage,  in  ice,  H.  —  1  '5;  O.  —  •918.  Hence  1000 
of  water— 1039  "5  of  ice,  or  water  expands  I'l-th  in  freering.  Trans- 
parent ;  vitreous.  Colourless,  but  in  bulk  pale  emerald-green.  B 
117°  23".  CL  basal  Water  when  pure  colourless,  in  mass  bluish 
green.  Occurs  in  centre  of  geodes  of  chalcedony  in  China  ;  of 
aruses  of  quartz  in  California  and  many  other  countries  ;  in 
laolitic  cavities  to  the  amount  of  several  gallons  in  the  Faroes,  also  in 
the  Hebrides,  &c  Water  of  the  ocean,  from  holding  saline  matters 
in  solution,  has  0.  —  1  027  to  1  0285.  Waters  of  saline  lakes  contain 
sometimes  26  per  cent,  of  salts,  and  have  G.  1'212.  Besides  its 
vast  bulk  in  the  ocean,  water  occurs  in  enormous  amount  in  the  solid 
form,  often  as  water  of  crystallization  in  rocks  and  minerals,  e.g.^ 
leolitea.  Igneous  rocks  in  some  districts  are  converted  largely 
into  saponite,  which  contains  25  per  cent  of  water.  Water  is  the 
standard  for  specific  gravities  of  solids  and  liquids ;  1  cubic  inch 
tX  60°  F.  and  SO  inches  of  the  Wometer  weighs  252'468  grains  :  1 
litre  weighs  1000  grammes. 

75.  PSBICLASB,  MgO. 

Cnbic ;  in  cubes  and  octahedrons.  CL  do.  H.  —  6 ;  G.  —  3  '6  to 
876.  Transparent ;  vitreous."  Grey  to  dark  greeiL  B.B.  infusible. 
SoL  in  acids.    C.c  :  magnesl*,  with  6  to  8  of  iron  oxide.    Somma. 

76.  BtnfSENiTE,  NiO . 

Cnbic ;  in  octahedrons.  H.  —  5'6:  Q.  —  6'4.  Vitreous.  Pistachio- 
'green.     Johann-Georgenstadt. 

77.  ZlKOITE,  ZuO.  _ 
Hexagonal  and  granular.     CI.  basaL     H.-4  to  4'6  ;  0. -6'4  to 

6*5.     Adamantine  ;  translucent     Blood-  or  hyacinth-red  ;  streak 
.orange-yellow.      B.B.    infusible,   but  phosphoresces.     C.c.  :  zinc 


80 '26,    oxygen     19 '74;    sometimes    with    nianeanesa    peroxide. 
Valuable  ore  of  zinc.     Franklin  and  Sterling  in  New  Jersey. 

78.  Massicot,  PbO. 

Massive ;  scaly  crystalline.  H.  —  2  ;  G.  —  7  '8  to  8.  Sulphur-  or 
lemon-yellow  ;  often  contains  iron.     Popocatepetl  in  Mexico. 

79.  Melaconite,  CuO  . 

Cubic;  compact  H. -3  to  4;  0.-6  to  6 '3.  Black.  RB. 
infusible  ;.solu Die  in  acids.  Cornwall,  Leadhills,  Lake  Superior, 
Burra- Surra. 

80.  Tenoeitk,  CuO. 

Oblique  prismatic  ;  occurs  in  thin  scales  of  metallic  lustre  on  lava 
of  Vesuvius.     Colour  black  and  dark-red. 

2.  SEsqinozioEs. 

81.  COKUNDDM,  AI5O,. 

Hexagonal ;  R  86°  4'.  Twins  common.  CL  rbombohedral,  and 
basaL  Excessively  tough,  and  difficultly  frangible.  H.  —  9 ;  G.  —  3  'S 
to  42.  Transparent  or  translucent ;  vitreous,  but  pearly  to  metallic 
on  basal  face.  B.  B.  unchanged.  As  Corundum,  white,  grey,  and 
greenish,  frequently  with  bronzy  lustre  on  basal  face.  C.c.:  alumina, 
with  a  little  peroxide  of  iron.  China,  Ceylon,  Bohemia,  Malabar, 
Macon  in  North  Carolina  (one  crystal  SOO  lb  weight).  Emery  ia 
compact,  crystalline,  granular  ;  grey,  to  indigo-blue.  Asia  Minor, 
Naxos,  Spain,  Greenland,  America.  Corundum  is  usf  d  when  crushed 
for  cutting  and  polishing  gems  in  China  and  India,  emery  in  powder 
for  grinding.  Alumina  oc- 
curs also  in  a  purer  state  in 
transparent  crystals  of  vari- 
ous tints  of  colour.  When 
red  and  of  the  colour  of 
pigeon's  blood  they  are 
termed  RvMta  ;  these  come 
from  Syriam  in  Pegu,  Ava, 
Ceylon,  Bohemia,  and  near 
Expailly.  When  5  carats  in 
weight  a  ruby  is  twice  the 
value  of  a  diamond  of  the 
same  size,  when  10  carats 
three  times  the  value. 
When  blue  the  crystal  is  the 
Sapphire,  found  chiefly  in 
Ceylon  and  Pegu ;  when 
green  it  is  the  Oriental 
Emerald,  when  yellow  the 
Oriental  Topaz,  wljen  purple  the  Oriental  Amethyst, — the  adjective 
here  distinguishing  them  from  the  true  or  occidental  stones  of  the 
same  name.  Other  tints  of  colour  also  occur,  but  with  the  excep- 
tion of  the  red  and  blue  they  are  seldom  pure  or  deep.  The  prism 
when  Out  with  a  hemispherical  dome  sometimes  displays  a  six- 
rayed  star,  either  of  a  bnght  gold  or  a  silvery  white  colour,  upon  a 
freyish  blue  ground.  These  receive  the  name  of  Asteria  Sapphire). 
he  same  crystal  frequently  shows  portions  of  even  three  diiferent 
tints.  When  perfectly  devoid  of  colour,  they  are  called  Wattr 
Sapphiret;  such  are  little  inferior  to  the  diamond  in  brilliancy, 
but  do  not  disperse  rays  of  light  to  the  same  extent 

82.    HSMATITE,  FCjOj. 

Hexagonal  and  rbombohedral ;  E  86°.     Crystals  rhombohedric, 

firismatic,  and  tabular.  Twins  with  axes  parallel.  CI.  E,  and  basal ; 
racture  conchoidal;  brittle.  H. -5'5  to  6 '6;  G.  —  5'1  to  6 '3. 
Opaque,  but  in  thin  laminee  transparent  and  blood-red.  Brilliant 
metallic  lustre,  iron-black  to  steel-grey,  often  brilliantly  tarnished  oS 
red,  yellow,  green,  and  blue  tints  ; 
streak  cherry-red.  B.  B.  in  the  inner 
flame  becomes  black  and  magnetic. 
Sol.  in  acids.  C.c:  iron  70,  oxygen 
30.  The  following  are  varieties  or 
subdivisions: — 

Elba  Iron  Ore,  highly  modified 
rhombohedtal  crystals,  often  bril- 
liantly tarnished.  Specular  Iron  Ore, 
in  thin  flat  crystals,  often  from 
volcanoes,  as  on  the  island  9f  Ascen- 
sion ;  this  variety  includes  Micaceous 
Iron,  thin,  lamellar,  and  curved,  and 
Red  Iron  Froth,  scaly.  Red  Heema- 
tite,  in  botryoidal  and  stalactitic 
forms,    which    are     internally   com-  p^     ggo. 

rosed  of  radiating  fibres,  and  often  t."  j    u 

ave  a  concentric  structure  ;  the  external  surface  has  a  dark 
red  to  a  brownish  red  hue.  Compact  and  Ochrcy  varieties  with 
more  or  less  aluminous  impurity,  pass  into  Reddle  or  red  chalk,  and 
when  still  mnre  earthy  into  jaspcry  and  columnar  ores.  This  ore  is 
very  commonly  distributed:— micaceous  iron  at  Pitficbie  in  Aberdeen 
and  Birnam  in  Perthshire ;  red  hxmatiu  at  LeadhiUs  and  at 
XVI.  —  49 


Fig.  277. 


Fig.  273. 


386 


MINERALOGY 


tJlverston  in  LancasUrs  ;  specular  iron  at  Taratock  in  Devonshire 
and  in  Cumberland.  Martite  seems  to  be  the  same  substance  in 
pseudomorpha  after  magnetite  ;  it  occurs  in  cctahedra  in  Bute, 
Framont  (Vosges),  New  York,  and  BraziL 

83.  Ilmenite,  (Fe,Ti).pj. 

Rhombohedral ;  R  86°.  Ciystala  rhombohedral  and  tabular,  also 
in  twins.  t'L  basal ;  fractuie  conchoidaL  H.  —  6  to  6 ;  G.  —  4  '66  to  6. 
Opaque,  semimetallic,  iron-black 
to  dark  brown ;  streak  bJack  or 
reddish  brown.  Sometimes  slightly 
magnetic.  B.B.  infusible,  but  with 
microcoimic  salt  forms  a  red  glass. 
Slowly  sol.  in  s.  acid  when  pow- 
dered. C.  c . :  peroxide  of  iron,  with 
from  8  to  £3  per  cent  oxide  of 
titanium.  Occurs  in  metamor- 
phic   rocks.     Common  in  chloritic  -^S-  281. 

gneiss  in  Scotland  ;  Menaccan  (Cornwall),  Ilmen  Mountains,  Salz- 
burg, Egersund  (Norway),  Arendal,  Dauphin^  (Crichloniie),  Massa- 
ohusetts  ( Washin^ioniU). 

84.  LSEEINE. 

Cubic ;  in  octahedra.  Strongly  magnetic ;  in  other  respects  similar 
to  ilmenite,  but  occurs  in  igneous  rocks.  Common  as  black  iron- 
sand  in  Scotland ;  Iserweise  in  Bohemia,  Auvergne,  Canada,  New 
Zealand. 

8.    COMPODTTDS  OF  SeSQUIOXIBES  WITH  PROTOXIDES  (SpHTELe). 

85.  MAONETrTE,  FeO,  Fe^Oj. 

Cubic  (figs.  35,  30,  33,  29,  34,  37,  with  40,  41,  36).  Hemi- 
tropes  common  on  octahedral  face  (fig.  169).  Twins  (fig.  261).  Faces 
of  ooO  striated  in  long  diagonal.  Often  compact  and  granular.  CI. 
octahedral;  fracture  conchoidal  or  uneven  ;  brittle.  H.  »5'5to6-5; 
G='4*9  to  5'2.  Opaque;  lustre  metallic.  Iron-black  to  brown; 
streak  black.  Highly  magnetic ;  often  polar,  forming  natural 
magnets.  B.  B.  beconies  brown  and  non-magnetic,  fusing  with 
difficulty.  Powder  sol.  in  h.  acid.  C.c.  :  31  protoxide  and  69  per- 
oxide of  iron;  or  72 •4_ iron,  27 '6  oxygen;  sometimes  with  titanic  acid. 
tn  crystals  in  Shetland  and  Sutherland ;  also  Cornwall  and  Antrim, 
Traversella  (Piedmont),  Tyrol,  Styria.  Massive  atDannemora  and 
Taberg  (Sweden),  Norway,  Urals,  Harz,  Saxony,  Elba.  This  is 
the  most  important  ore  in  Norway,  Sweden,  and  Russia,  and  affords 
the  finest  iron. 

86.  Maonesio-Fekkite,  MgO,  FcjO,. 

Cubic  (fig.  30).  H.  "6  to  6-5;  G.  =4-57  to  4-66.  Other 
;haracters  same  as  magnetite.  C.  c.  :  magnesia  20,  peroxide  of  iron 
S7.     Fumaroles  of  Vesuvius. 

87.  Jacobsite,  (MnO,  MgO),  (FcjOj,  Mn^Oj). 

Cubic ;  O.    Black  ;  vitreous  ;  streak  red.    Nordmark  in  Sweden. 

88.  FEANKLtxiTE,  (FoO,  ZnO ,  MnO),  (FejO,,  Mn^Oj). 

Cubic  (figs.  34,  64)  ;  also  granular.  CI.  octahedral ;  fracture 
conchoidal ;  brittle.  H.  =5-5  to  6-5  ;  G. -5-07.  Metallic  lustre. 
Iron-black  ;  streak  reddish  brown.  Opaque ;  slightly  magnetic. 
B.  B.  infusible,  but  shines  and  throws  out  sparks.  On  charcoal  with 
soda  a  deposit  of  oxide  of  zinc.  Sol.  in  h.  acid  with  evolution  of 
chlorine.  C.c.  :  about  67  iron  oxide,  17  manganese  peroxide,  16 
zinc  ox-ide.     Franklin  and  Sterling  (New  Jersey). 

89.  CnitOMiTE,  FeO,  CrjO, . 

Cubic  ;  in  octahedra,  generally  grannlar-massive.  H.  =  5  "5  ; 
G.  — 4  "4  to  4 '6.  Opaque  ;  semimetallic  to  resinous.  Iron-black  to 
dark  brown  ;  streak  reddish  brown.  Fracture  uneven  ;  sometimes 
magnetic.  B.  B.  unchanged  ;  in  red.  flame  becomes  magnetic;  with 
borax  forms  an  emerald-green  bead.  Not  soluble  in  acids.  C.c: 
19  to  37  protoxide  of  iron,  0  to  15  magnesia,  36  to  64  peroxide  of 
chromium,  9  to  21  alumina.  Unst  (Shetland),  Towanrieff  (Aber- 
deenshire), Silesia,  Bohemia,  Styria,  Urals,  Turkey,  Baltimore, 
Massachusetts,  and  Hoboken.  The  ore  of  chromium  ;  used  for 
dyes.     Irite  is  chromite  mixed  with  iridosmium. 

90.  UriANiNiTE  {Pitch  BUndt),  UO,  U5O3. 

Cubic  (fig.  30);  usually  massive  and  botryoidal.  H. -5  to  6; 
G-6-5to8.  Lustre  pitch-like  to  submetallic.  Colour  velvet-black, 
brownish  black,  and  grey.  B.B.  infusible.  Not  sol.  in  h.  acid, 
but  easily  in  hotn,  acid.  C.c.  :  oxides  of  uranium  80,  with  a  mixture 
•f  other  oxides.  Jobann-Gcorgenstadt,  Annaberg,  Przibram,  Red- 
roth  in  Cornwall.     The  chief  ore  of  uranium. 

91.  Gahnite,  ZnO,  k\0,. 

Cubic  (figs.  166,  30,  33,  and  with  39,  40).  Hemitropes  like 
magnetite.  CL  0;  brittle,  with  conchoidal  fracture.  H. -7'5to 
3  ;  G. —4 '3  to  4 '9.  Opaque;  vitreous  to  resinous.  Dark  leek-green 
to  blue;  streak  grey.  B.B.  unchanged.  Unafi"ectcd  by  a* ids  or 
alkalies.  _  C.c:  44  oxide  of  zinc,  66  alumina.  Falun,  Broddbo, 
Iladdam  in  Connecticut,  and  Franklin  in  Now  Jersey.  DysluiU: 
c^ntiins  42  per  cent,  sesquioxide  of  iron;  and  KrciUonite  contains 
24  .j.Tide  of  manganese. 


92.  Heeotnite,  FeO,  Al,Ot. 

Cubic;  generally  granular  massive.  H. "T'B  to  8;  G>— S'tto 
395.  B.B.  infusible.  C.c.  :  oxide  of  iron  41  1,  alumina  68"9. 
Ronsberg  in  the  Bohmerwald. 

93.  Spinel,  MgO,  AIJO,. 

Cubic  (figs.  30,  33,  40with26);  henutropeetmitedbyfaceof  0.  CL 
octahedral ;  fracture  conchoid.1l.  H.  —  8  ;  G.  —  3  "4  to  4  •!.  Trans- 
parent to  opaque ;  vitreous.  Black,  red,  blue,  green  ;  streak  white. 
B.B.  infusible  and  unchanged.  C.c:  28  magnesia,  72  alumina; 
some  with  a  little  iron,  and  the  red  varieties  some  chromium. 
Varieties  are — Spinel  Rvjby  when  Ecarlet,  £alas  Buhy  when  rose-red ; 
both  often  sold  as  the  true  ruby,  but  not  nearly  so  valuable  ;  whem 
of  4  carats  valued  at  half  the  price  of  a  diamond  the  same  size.    These 


Fig.  282. 


Fig.  283. 


come  from  Pegu  (native  name  Balachan).  The  violet-colonred_is  the 
Alabandinc  r«6y  from  Alabandin  in  Caria,  (Asia Minor).  The  orange 
red  is  the  RuliuUa.  The  above  also  occur  at  Ceylon,  Ava,  and  Slam. 
Sapphirine  is  pale  sapphire-blue  to  greenish  or 
reddisli  blue  ;  from  Akcr  in  Sweden,  Greenland, 
and  North  America.  Plamastc,  dark  gi'een  or 
blue  to  black;  from  Candy  in  Ceylon.  Chloro- 
spiiicl,  grass-green  with  a  yellowish  white 
streak  ;  from  Zlatoust.  TVaUr-spincl  colour- 
less ;  from  Ceylon.  Picoliie  is  a  dark  blue 
chromiferous  variety  from  serpentine. 

94.  Cheysoeektl,  GIO,  AljOj. 

Right  prismatic  (fig.  284).  Twins  common, 
united  by  a  face  of  Pco  (fig.  285,  also  156).  CI. 
brachydiagonal  imperfect,  macrodiagonal  more 
so ;  fracture  conchoidal.  H.  -  8  -5 ;  G.  -  3  68  to 
3  8.  Transparent  or  translucent ;  vitreous. 
Greenish  white,  leek-green,  and  dark  emerald-  ^'^-  284  (sp.  M). 
green.  B.B.  infusible.  Not  affected  by  acids. 
C.c:  glucina20,  alumina  80.  Brazil,  Ceylon, 
India,  the  Urals,  Haddam  in  Connecticut.  A 
very  valuable  gem.  It  sometimes  possesses  an 
opalescent  band,  which  when  the  stone  is  cut 
en  cahochon  appears  as  a  streak  of  floating 
light  ;  whence  it  derives  its  name  of  Cymo- 
phane.  It  is  then  also  called  the  chatoyant  or 
Oriental  chrysolite,  and  when  fine  is  of  extreme 
value.  The  emerald-green  variety,  or  Al<x- 
andrile,  is  columbine-red  by  transmitted  light. 


Fig.  286. 


4.  Dectoxides. 
6.  RTmi.E,  TiOj. 
Pyramidal ;  prisms  dominant.    P  84  40';  Poe 


65*  85'  (figs.  286, 

th  axes  of  halves  114°  26'.      CL 

H.  ~6  to  6-6;  G. -4-2  to  4-3.     Tr«ns- 


287).     Hemitropes 
00  P  and   00 Pco ,  perfect, 
parent       to       opaque  ; 
adamantine  lustre. 

Brown-red,  red,  pale 
yellow,  and  black  ; 
streak  yellowish  brown. 
B.  B.  unchanged  ;  with 
borax  in  the  ox.  flame 
forms  a  greenish,  in 
the  red.  flame  a  violet 
glass.  Not  affected  by 
acids.  C.c;  titanic 
acid,  with  some  per- 
oxide of  iron.  Craig- 
cailleach     and     Bon-y- 

Gloe    (Perthshire),    The  „     „.,  _.,  „™ 

Cobblcr  and  Ben-Bheula  ^-  288-  ^ig-  287. 

(Argyllshire),  Alps,  Limoges,  Norway,  Brazil.  Large  crystals  at 
Titanium  Mount  (Lincoln  county,  Georgia).  Used  in  porcelain 
painting,  and  for  tinting  artificial  teeth.  When  attenuated  cryntaU 
arc  imbedded  iu  tvck-crystai  they  are  called  Vcnua'  hair. 


MINERALOGY 


387 


96.  AnkTABT,  TiO,. 

Pyiamidal ;  pyramids  dominant     P  IM*  S6'  (fig.    288).     CL 
Wjal,     and  P,     both    perfect  j    brittle.  — — 

lL—&'6  to  6;  G. -Is -8  to  3-93.  Tnui8- 
uannt  to  opaque  ;  lostre  adamantine  to 
metalUo.  lidigo-blae,  yellow,  brown, 
rarely  colonrless  ;  streak  white.  B.  B. 
iofiisibla.  SoL  in  hot  b.  acid.  C.c. : 
titanic  acid,  with  a  little  iron  and  rarely 
tin.  Cornwall  and  Devonahire,  the  Alps, 
'Janphin^,  Valaia,  the  UnJa,  Minaa 
Ueraea  (Brazil). 

97.  Beookitb,  TiO,. 
Right  prismatic ;  with  polar  edges  136° 

37'  and  101°  8'  (fig.  289).     CI.  macrodia- 

gonaL     H.-5-6  to6;  0.-3-86to4-2. 

Transparent  to  opaque  ;  lustre  metaUic  "B-  288  (ep.  96). 

adamantine.  Yellowiah,  reddish,  and  hair-brown;  streak  yellowish 
white  to  white.  B.B.  infusible;  with 
microcosmic  salt,  a  brownish  yellow 
glass.  C.c. :  titanic  acid,  with  1  to  4  6 
per  cent,  peroxide  of  iron.  Snowdon 
and  Tremadoc  ("Wales),  Chamouni, 
Bourg  d'Oisans,  Miask.  Arka-nsiU  is 
iron.black,  and  submetallic,  in  thick 
crystals  from  Arkansas,  U.S. 
98.  Caksiteeitb,  SnO,. 
PyramidaL  P  87°  7';  P«>  67°  SO* 
(figs.  290  to  292).  Crystals  ooP,  P; 
or  ooP  (j),  P  (s),  o.Poo(0;  or  with  Poo 
(P),  (fig.  290);  and  also  ooP2  (r),  and 
SPJ  (z),  (fig.  291).  Hemitropes  very 
common,  combined  by  a  face  of  Poo  with 

thechief  axes  112°  10' (figs.  293, 171, 172,  173);  also  fibrous ( JTooi 

Tin),  or  in  rounded  fragments  and  grains  {Stream  Tin).  CL  pris- 

nstie  along   ooP,  andooPoo,   imperfect;  brittle.       H.  —  6  to  7; 


^  Kg.  289  (sp.  97). 


I  «[•        *  l!;*:rrj|s 

ill  '    )-^-— *.         I 


Fig.  29a 


Fig.  291. 


O.— 6'8  to  7.  Translucent  or  opaque;  adamantine  or  resinous. 
White,  but  usually  grey,  yellow,  red,  brown,  and  black ;  streak 
white    ''"ht  gie-    or  brown.     B.B.  in  the  forceps  infusible  ;  on 


Pig.  292. 


Fig.  293. 


charcoEkL,  in  the  inner  flame,  reduced  to  tin.  Not  afi°ecte£  by  acids. 
C.c:  78 '6  tin  and  21*4  oxygen,  but  often  mixed  With  peroxide  oi 
iron,  or  manganese,  or  tantalic  acid.  Cornwall,  Bobe^iia,  Saxony, 
also  Silesia,  Haute-Vicnne  in  France,  Greenland,  Russia,  North 
and  South  America,  Malacca,  Bancs,  and  Queensland.  Almost 
the  only  ore  of  tin. 

,      99.  Hacsmaknite,  2iln0,  llnO,. 

Pyramidal.  P  116°  59';  Poo  98°  32' (fig.  110).  Twins  common, 
and  rosettes  of  twins  (fig&..174, 175).  CI.  basal,  perfect,  less  so  P  and 
Pco ;  fracture oneveo.  H.  — 6'5  ;  Q.  —  4°7  to  4'8.  Opaque;  metallic 
butie.     Iron-black;  streak  brown.   B.B.  infusible,  but  becomes 


orcomjMt 


brown.  Sol.  in  h.  acid,  with  eTolution  of  chlorine.  Powder  coionra 
8.  acid  red.  C.c. :  31  protoxide  and  69  perozids  of  manganese. 
IhleTeld  and  Ilmenau  in  the  Earz,  and  Sweden. 

100.  Bravtnite,  MnO,  MnO,. 

Tetragonal,  P  108'^39'.  CL  P ; brittle.  H.-6  to6-6  ;  G.»47  to 
4'9.  Metallic  lustre.  Coloor  and  streak  dark  brownish  black. 
Co.:  70 manganese  and  30  oxygen,  generally  with  about  8  percent, 
of  silica.     Ihlefeld  and  St  MarceL    Uarceline  has  violet  tarnish. 

101.  Pteolusite,  MnO, . 
Right  prismatic;  oe>P93°40'; 

earthy.  CI.  o=P ;  friable.  ff.-2to2-6; 
G.  =-47  to  5.  Opaque;  lustre  silky  to 
send-motallic  Dark  steel-grey  to  black  ; 
streak  black.  Soils.  B.B.  infusible,  loses 
oxygen  and  becomes  brown.  SoL  in  h.  acid, 
with  evolution  of  chlorine.  C.c:  manga- 
nese 63,  oxygen  37.  Amdilly  (Banffshire), 
Cornwall  and  Devon,  Ilmenau,  Ihlefeld, 
France,  Hungary,  Brazil.  Used  for  n 
moving  the  green  iron  tint  from  glass  ;  hence 
its  name  and  that  of  Savon  de  verrUr.  Also 
for  obtaining  oxygen  and  chlorine.  Vdr- 
viciu  is  a  variety  with  6  per  cent,  of  water, 
from  Warwickshire. 


Fig.  294. 


102.  CREDNEBrrE,  3CuO,  2(MnO,MnO,). 

Oblique.  H. -4'6;  G-E.  Metallia  Black;  streak  brown. 
Thuringia. 

103.  PU.TTNEEITB,  PbO,. 

Hexagonal.  oc.P120°.  CL  indistinct ;  brittle.  G. -9'4.  Opaqnef 
metallic.  Iron-black ;  streak  brown.  C.c  :  lead  ii%  oxygen 
13-8.     Leadhills. 

104.  Mnmra,  2PbO,  PbO,. 

Pulverulent  H.  =  2  to  3 ;  G.  -  4  -6.  Dull.  Colour  bright  red ; 
streak  orange-yellow.  B.  B.  fuses  easily  and  reduced.  SoL  in  h. 
acid.  C.c  :  lead  907,  oxygen  93.  Leadhills,  Weardale  in  York- 
shire, Anglesea,  Badenweiler,  Siberia. 

S.  Hysbocs  Oxides. 

106.  Sassoline,  BjO,  ,  H,0 . 

Anorthic  OP  :  oo?oo  75°  SO'.  Scaly  six-sided  plates.  CS. 
basaL  Flexible  and  sectile.  H.  —  1;  G.  — 1'4  to  1'6.  'Translucent; 
pearly;  white;  taste  bitter;  greasy.  SoL  in  hot  water.  C.o.i 
Doracic  acid  56 '46,  water  43 '55.  Hot  springs  of  Sasso,  near 
Siena,  Tuscany;  and  with  snlphor  in  the  crater  of  Volcano, 
Lipari  Islands. 

106.  TtTBGiTE,  2Fe20,-HH,0. 

Massive  and  fibrous,  also  earthy.     H."-6to6;  G.  — 3'64  to  4'68. 
Lustre  satin-like,  also  dulL     Colour  reddish  black  to  bright  t«d. 
Botryoidal    surfaces  lustrous  like  limonite. 
Opaque.     C.c  :  iron  sesquioxide  947,  water        /^j_  '  /^Vv 
5  3.     B.B.   decrepitates  violenUy  and  yields      /^  ""^^^v 


water.      ■  Kerrera     (Hebrides), 

(Urals),  and  many  limonite  localities.     Fre- 

quentiy  taken  for  limonite. 

107.  DiABPOBE,  A1,0,,  H,0. 

Right  prismatic;  a>P129°47';  usually  thin 
foliated.  CL  brachydiagonal,  perfect ;  brittie. 
H.-6;G.-3-3  to  3-4.  Vitreous;  pearly  on 
cleavage-planes.  Colourless  to  yellowish, 
greenish,  or  violet.  B.B.  infusible,  decrepi- 
tates.     Insoluble.     C.c.  :  alumina  85,  water 


f  ^ 


Fig.  296  (sp.  1C7). 


Schemnitz,  Broddb'     Switzerland,  Nazos,  Chester,  Massa- 
chusettB.     Fig.  295. 

108.  OSTEITE,  Fe,0,,  HjO. 

Right  prismatic  ;  ooP  94°  63' ; 
also  columnar,  fibrous,  or  scaly. 
CL  brachydiagonal,  perfect ;  brit- 
tle. H.-5to6-5;  G.-.3-8  to4-4. 
Opaque  ;  or  fine  crystals  trans- 
parent, and  hyacinth-red  ;  lustre 
adamantine  or  silky.  Colour 
yellow,  red,  or  dark  brown  ;  streak 
brownish  yellow.  B.B.  becomes 
magnetic,  difficultly  fusible.  SoL 
in  n.  acid.  C.c.  :  peroxide  of 
iron  90,  water  10.  Hoy  (Orkney), 
Achavarasdale  (Caithness),  Salis-  -i^g.  296.  Fig.  297. 

bury   Crags    (Edinburgh),    Lost-  „    .v 

withiel,  CUfton,  BristoL  Praibram,  Siegen,  Saxony,  Urals,  NortH 
America. 


388" 


MINEKALOGY 


109.  Manoanitb,  MD.O3 ,  H,0 . 

Right  prismatic,  sometimes  liemihedrio ;  ooP  {M)  99  '40. 
prismatic  (figs.  293  to  300);  vertically  striated; 
also  columnar  or  6brou8.  Hemitropea  cora- 
mon.  CL  brachydiagonal,  perfect;  brittle. 
H.-S-5  to  4;  G.=4-3  to  44.  Opaque; 
metallic  lustre.  Steel-grey  to  iron-black; 
streak  brown.  B.  B.  infusible.  Sol.  in  warm 
h,  acid.  C.c.  :  peroxide  of  manganese  89*9, 
water  lO'l.  Grandholm  (Aberdeenshire), 
Cork,  Upton  Pyno  (Exeter),  Churchhill 
(Somerset),  Warwickshire,  Ihlefeld,  Thuringia, 
Norway,  Sweden,  Nova  Scotia. 


Fig.  299  (sp.  109). 

110.  LtMONiTE,  2Fe,Oj+3HjO. 
Fibrous,  bottyoidal,  and  stalactitio,  some.      i,.     ,,f,n-r     ,r,n> 

times  earthy.  H.-4-5  to  5 -5;  G.-3-4  to  ^'S'  -iOO  (^P- 109)- 
3*95.  Opaqne  ;  lustre  silky,  glimmering,  or  dull.  Brown,  yellow- 
ish and  blackish  brown,  often  black  on  surface;  streak  ochre- 
yellow.  In  closed  tuba  yields  water  and  becomes  i-ed.  B.B.  in 
inner  flame  becomes  magnetic,  fusing  to  a  glass.  C.c.  :  peroxide 
of  ii-on  85-6,  water  14-4.  Sandlodge  (Shetland),  Hoy  (Orkney), 
Clifton,  Bristol,  Cornwall,  Harz,  Thuringia,  Nassau,  Styria,  Carm- 
thia,  Siberia,  United  Stater 

111.  Xanthosideeite,  FejOj,  2HjO. 

Fibrous,  Btellate,  also  aa  an  ochre.  H. --2'5.  Siliy  or  greasy, 
pitch-like  or  earthy.  In  needles,  golden-yellow  or  brown-red;  as 
an  ochre,  yellow,  red,  or  brown;  streak  ochre-yellow.  B.B.  like 
limonito.  C.c:  peroxide  of  ironSl '6,  water  18-4.  Hoy(Orkney), 
Achavaxaadale,  Kilbride,  Wioklow,  Ilmenan,  Goslar,  andElbingerode 
in  the  Harz. 

112.  Beauxite,  (3AIj03,  Fifi^),  2HaO. 

Oolitic,  concretionary,  disseminated  ;  also  earthy  and  clay-like. 
G. -2'56.  JVlite,  grey,  ochre-yellow,  brown,  and  red.  C.c: 
alnmina  50 '4,  peroxide  of  iron  26-1,  water  23-5.  From  Beaux  (or 
Banx)  near  Aries,  and  elsewhere  in  France.  In  grains  in  compact 
limestone.    Pore  varieties  used  for  manufacture  of  aluminium. 

113.  KilAfliTE,  Us03-l-2H30. 

Amorphous  masses;  resin-like.  H.  — 3'5  to  4 '6.;  G.  —  4  to  5. 
Reddish  brown  to  black  ;  streak  wax -yellow  to  olive-green.  C.  c. ; 
68 '5  percent,  sesquioxide  of  uranium,  10  of  water,  with  impurities. 
Elias  mine  (near  Joachimsthal). 

114.  Bruoite,  MgO,H.O. 

Rhombohodral ;  R82°22';  also  foliated  and  botryoidal  columnar. 
CI.  basal,  perfect ;  sectile ;  laminte  flexible.  H.— 2;G.  — 2'3to2'4. 
Translucent,  pearly.  Colourless.  B.B.  infusible.  Easily  soluble  in 
acids.  C.c  :  69  magnesia,  31  water.  Nemalite  is  a  fibrous  variety 
with  silky  lustre.  Swinaness  and  Quin  Gio  in  Unst,  Beresovsk 
in  the  Urals,  Hoboken,  New  Jersey,  Texas,  Pennsylvania. 

115.  PrKOCHKOiTE,  MnO,  HjO. 

Foliated.  H.  -2-5.  Pearly,  white,  but  changing  through  bronze 
to  black.  Flesh-red  by  transmitted  light.  In  matrass  becomes 
virdigris-greon,  finally  black,  yielding  water.  SoL  in  h.  acid. 
C.c.  :  protoxide  of  manganese  79 '8,  water  20 -2.  In  veins  in  mag- 
netite at  Paisberg  in  Sweden. 

116.  GiBBSITE  (HydrargiltUe),  Al.Oa,  SIIjO. 

Hexagonal.  C.c:  65-5  .ilumina,  34-5  water.  The  crystals  are 
from  Zlatoust  in  the  Urals  ;  stalactites  from  Richmond  in  Massachu- 
setts and  Yilla  Rica  in  Brazil. 

117.  LiMNITE,  FojO,,  3II3O. 

Massive  in  stalactites,  also  as  a  yellow  ochre.  Like  limonite,  but 
pitchy  lustre.  C.c. :  peroxide  of  iron  74 '8,  water  25"2.  Lcadhills, 
Botallaok  (ComwaH),. Novgorod  (Russia). 

il8.   nrBROTXloiTe^mjUjt.ffifjO-f OMgO,  HjO-fSHjv, 
Hexagonal.'ACl;  basal;  foliated,  and  somewhat  fibrous.     H.  -  2  ; 

G.  —  2"04.     White,  pearly.     Greasy  to   the    touch.     Translucent. 

0.0.  :  alumina   16'8,  magnesia  S9'2,  water  44.  .  Zlatoust,    Urals; 

Snariun,  Notwo-'  •  New  York. 


il9.  PrsoAtmiTE,  re„03,  3HjO-f  6MgO,  'B.^O-i-^VlJi. 

Hexagonal  ;  tables  and  scaly  coatings.  Lustre  pearly*  to  aoW 
metallic  Colour  white  to  ^old-yellow.  Translucent.  B.B.  im- 
fusible,  yields  water.  SoL  in  h.  acid.  C.c.  :  peroxide  of  van 
23-9,  magnesia  35-8,  water  40-3.  Haaf  Gninay  in  Shetland,  lAng- 
ban  in  Wermland. 

120.  GCMMITE,  UjOj,  3H2O. 

In  rounded  lumps,  resembling  gum.  H.  —2*5  to  3  ;  G.  —  8*9  to 
4 '2.  Lustre  greasy.  Reddish  yellow  to  yellowish  brown.  Co.:  71 
per  cent,  sesquioxide  of  uranium  water  14*75,  with  imT)uritiea. 
Johann-Georgenstadt. 

121.  PsiLOMELANE,  (BaO,  MnO)  MnOj-fSHjO,  MnOj-f 3HjO. 
Massive  and  botryoidal ;  fracture  conchoidal.     H.  =  5  *6  to  6  ;  G,  — 

4-1  to  4 '3.  Bluish  black.  B.B.  infusible.  About  80  per  cent,  of 
oxide  of  manganese,  with  baryta,  potash,  and  water.  Hoy  (Orkney), 
Lcadhills,  Cornwall,  Devon,  Schneeberg,  Ilmenau,  Vermont  in 
France.  TVad  is  similar,  but  sometimes  soft  and  light.  Lcad- 
hills, CJomwall,  Harz,  France. 

122.  Chalcophanite,  MnOZnO-^-2Mn03-^2HJO. 
HexagonaL    R:R114''   30'.      G.  basal'      H. -2*6;  G. -3*91. 

Metallic  lustre.  Blue-black ;  streak  brown,  dull.  Opaque ;  flexible. 
C.c:  manganese  binoxido  5994,  protoxide  6*6.  zinc  oxide  21*7, 
water  11*6.     Sterling  Hill  (New  Jersey' 

OXIDES  OF  NON-METALS. 
1.  OirDES  OF  Absenio-Antimont  Family  (TBEoxrois).^ 

123.  Aksenolite,  AsOj. 

Cubic;  in  octahedra;  also  botryoidal,  stalactitic  '  H.  — 1*6;  O."-* 
3*7.  Lustre  vitreous.  White;  streak  pale  yellow.  Translucent' 
Sublimes  in  closed  tube,  condensing  in  brilUant  octahedra.  C.0.1 
arsenic  75*76,  oxygen  24*24.  Cornwall,  Andreasberg,  JoachimsthaJ. 
Kapnik  (Hungary),  Nevada,  California. 

124.  SENAKMONTrrE,  SbOj. 

Cubic ;  in  octahedrons.  CI.  octahedral,  also  massive  granulAr. 
H.-2to2*5;  G.  — 5*22  to5*3.  Transparent;  adamantine.  WhiteM* 
gi*ey.  B.  B.  in  inner  flame  fuses  and  colours  the  flame  greenish  bine. 
Sol.  in  h.  acid.  C.c:  antimony  83*56,  oxygen  16*44.  Endellioa  in 
Cornwall,  Constantine  in  Algeria,  Malaczka  in  Hungary. 

125.  Vaientineitb,  SbOj. 

Right  prismatic;  ooP  137'.  CI.  odP,  perfect  H. -2*6  to  3;  G. -6*5 
to  5 '6.  Translucent;  adamantine  to  pearly.  Yellowish  white,  brown- 
grey;  streak  white.  Other  properties  and  composition  like  senar- 
montite.  Glendinning  (Dumfriesshire),  Przibram,  Bramifidorf 
(Saxony),  Harz,  Hungary,  Allemont  (Dauphin^),  Siberia. 

126.  Bismite,  BiOj. 

Massive,  earthy.  G.  —  4*36.  Grey,  yellow,  green.  C.c:bismDtli 
89*66,  oxygen  10*35.     St  Agnes  (Cornwall),  Schneeberg,  Siberia. 

127.  MOLiBDITE,  MoOj. 

Right  prismatic;  (»P136"48'.  Incapillary  crystals,  also powfleiy. 
-H.  —  1  to  2;  G.  —  4*5.  Straw-yellow  to  yellowish  white.  Co.: 
molybdenum  65*71,  oxygen  34*29.  With  molybdenite  at  maajr 
of  its  localities. 

128.  TiruosTiTE,  WO3. 

Earthy.  Soft  yellow  or  yellowish  green.  Sol.  in  alkalies.  C.c ; 
tungsten  79*3,  oxygen  20*7.  Cumberland  and  Cornwall,-  Monroe 
in  Connecticut 

129.  Cervantite,  SbOj-fSbOj. 

Right  prismatic.  Acicular,  generallyearthy.  H. —  4  to  6;  G.  — 4*1. 
Isabel-yellow,  reddish  white.  B.B.  on  charcoal  reduced;  xm- 
alteredjiKr  sf.  Sol.  in  h.  acid.  Harehill,  Ayrshire;  Endellion,  &c, 
Cornwall ;  Cervantes,  Spain ;  Felsbbanya,  Hungary  ;  Mexico  ; 
Canada  ;  California. 

130.  STiBicoxrTE,  SbOj,  H3O. 

Massive,  powdery.  H. -4  to  5*6;  G. -5*28.  Pale  yellow.T  In 
closed  tube  yields  water.  C.c  :  antimony  74*9,  oxygen  19*6,  inter 
6*5.     Goldkronach  (Bavaria) 

131.  ToLGEBrrE,  SbO,,  5H3O. 

Massive  and  iwwdcry.  AVliite.  In  tube  yields  water,  below  red- 
ness. C.c:  antimony  53*9,  oxygen  19*3,  water 21*8.  Constantine 
in  Algeria. 

132.  ZuimEREEZ  {Tinder  Ore). 

In  soft,  flexible,  tinJer-like  masses.  Colour  dark  cherry-red  to 
blackish  red ;  lustre  glimmering.  Two  varieties : — one,  from  Klaus- 
thai,  contains  antimony  oxide  33,  iron  oxide  40,  lead  16,  sulphur  4; 
the  other,  from  Andreasberg  and  Ivlausthal,  seems  to  be  a  n)ixturB 
of  jaracsonito  (82*04  per  cent.),  mispickel  (13*46),  aud  pyiarg}*rit« 
(4*34) 

133.  Tellcriti. 

YiUowibh  or  whitish.  Radi.iled,  spherical  masses.  Gives  th« 
reactions  of  tellurous  acid.     Facscbiiva  and  Zalathna,  Colorado. 


MINERALOGY 


389' 


134.    TiJiTALIO  OCBRE. 

Powdery;  brown;  vitreous.     Pennikoji  in  Finland. 

2.  Oxides  of  Cabbok-Silicos  Familt  (Bihoxidss). 
186.  QDAIII2,  SiO,. 

Hexagonal ;   the  pnrest  varieties  tatariohedral.     The   primary 
prn:mi5  P  has  the  middle  edge -103°  34',  and  the  polar  edges - 


Fig.  307.         Fig.  308. 


Fig.  301.  Fig.  302.  Fig.  303.  Fig.  804.      Fig.  305. 

133°  44',  and  is  often  perfect.  Very  frequently  it  appears 
as  a  rhombohedron  B  (or  ^P),  with  polar  edges— 91  16'. 
Crystals  often  of  o>P,  P 
or  <x.P,  P,  4P,  the  forms 
ooP  and  4P  being  combined 
in  an  oscillatory  manner, 
producing  strise  on  the  face 
of  the  prism  (figs.  803,  304, 
805);  also  ooP,  P,  J(2P2), 
the  last  face  appearing  as  a 
rhomb  replacing  the  alter- 
nate angles  between  the  two 
other  forms  (figs.  307,  308). 
They  are  prismatic,  or  py-  Fig.  306. 
nunidal,  or  rhombohedral, 
when  P  is  divided  into  R  and  -E;  the  latter 
rery  often  wanting.  Many  faces  plagihedral,  as 
in  figs.  302,  306,  309. 

Twins  common,  with  parallel  ares,  and  either 
merely  in  juitaposition  (see  fig.  178)  or  interpene- 
trating. Crystals  often  distorted,  as  in  figs.  310 
to  313.  The  crystals  occur  either  single,  attached, 
or  imbedded,  or  in  groups  and  druses.  Most  frS: 
nuently  granidar,  massive,  fibrous,  or  columnar; 
aUo  in  pseudoraorphs,  petrifactious,  and  other 
forms.  CL  rhombohedral  along  R,  very  imper- 
feet;  prismatic  along  ooP,  still  more  imperfect; 
fracture  conchoidal,  uneven,  or  splintery.  H.  —  7 ; 
G.  —  2o  to  28;  2  65  in  the  pnrest  varieties. 
Colourless,  but  more  often  white,  grey,  yellow, 
brown,  red,  blue,  green,  or  even  black.  Lustre 
vitreous,  inclining  to  resinous;  transparent  or 
translucent ;  when  impure  almost  opaque.  B.  B. 
infusible  alone;  with  soda  effervesces,  and  melts 
into  a  clear  glass.  Insoluble  in  acids,  except  the  hydrofluoric 
when  pulverized,   slightly  soluble  in  solution  of  potash.      C.c. 


Fig.  309. 


Fig.  310.  Fig.  311.  Fig.  312.  Fig.  313. 

48*05  silicon  and  61 '95  oxygen;  but  frequently  a  small  amount  of 
tho  oxides  of  iron  or  titanium,  of  lune,  alumina,  and  other 
substances. 

The  following  are  varieties  : — 

llocicrystai :  highly  transparent  and  colourless ;  Dauphin^, 
Switzerland,  "ryrol,  Hungary,  Madagascar,  and  Ceylon. 

Amethyst :  violet-blue  (from  iron  peroxide  or  manganese),  and 
often  marked  by  zigzag  or  undulating  lines,  and  the  colour  dis- 
posed in  clouds ;  Siberia,  Persia,  India,  Ceylon,  Brazil  (white  or 
yellow,  named  false  topaz),  Hungary,  Ireland  (near  Cork),  and 
Aberdeenshire.  Wine-yellow  (Cilrin  and  Gold  Topaz) ;  the  brown 
or  Smoky  Quartz  (coloured  by  a  substance  -containing  carbon 
and  nitrogen);  and  the  black  or  iforion,  from  Siberia,  Bohemia, 
Pennsylvania,  and  other  places.  Cairngorm  Stone,  black,  brown,  or 
•yellow,  from  Aberdeenshire  mountains.  The  above  are  valued  as 
omunental  stones  ;  those  which  follow  are  less  so. 

Base  Quartz  :  red  inclining  to  violet-blue;  Clashnares  Hill  (Aber- 
deen), and  Rabenstein  in  Bavaria.  UUk  Quartz :  milk-white,  and 
tUj^tly  opalescent;  Greenland.    Prase:  leek  and  other  shades  of 


green;  Saxony  and  Cedar  Mountain  in  South  Africa.  Cafs-cye,. 
inclosing  asbestos:  greenish  white  or  grey,  olive-green,  red,  brown, 
or  yellow  ;  Ceylon  and  Malabar.  AvaniuriTiCf  enclosing  mica : 
yellow,  red,  green,  or  brown;  India,  Spain,  and  Scotland.  Sidtrite-^ 
indigo  or  Berlin  blue  ;  Golling  in  Salzburg. 

Common  Quartz,  crystallized  or  massive,  white  or  grey,  also  red, 
brown,  &c.,  is  a  frequent  constituent  in  mauy  rocks.  Some  impure 
varieties  are  properly  rocks,  as: — 

(1)  Ferruginous  Quartz,  or  Iron  Flint :  red,  yellow,  or  brown ;. 
often  associated  with  iron  ores. 

(2)  Jasper :  red,  yellow,  brown,  also  green,  grey,  white,  and 
black  ;  alone,  or  in  spots,  veins,  and  bands  {Ribbon  or  Egyptian 
Jasper) ;  UraLs, Tuscan  Apennines,  Harz,  and  many  parts  of  Scotland. 

(3)  Lydian  Stone,  or  Flinty  Slate  :  black,  grey,  or  white ;  has  a 
splintery  or  conchoidal  fracture,  breaks  into  irregular  fragments, 
and  passes  by  many  transitions  into  clay-slate,  of  which  it  is  often 
merely  an  altered  portion,  as  in  Scotland;  used  as  a  touchstone  for 
gold,  and  at  Elfdal  (Sweden)  manufactured  into  omattents. 

(4)  ffomstone  or  Chert :  compact,  conchoidal,  splintery  fracture ; 
translucent  on  the  edges;  dirty  grey,  red,  yellow,  green,  or  brown; 
passes  into  flinty  slate  or  common  quartz;  common  in  the  Mountain 
limestone.  Oolite,  and  Greensand  formations;  and  often  contains 
petrifactions,  as  shells,  corals,  and  wood. 

Other  siliceous  minerals  seem  intimate  mixtures  of  quartz  and 
opal,  as: — 

Flint :  greyish  white,  grey,  or  greyish  black,  also  yellow,  red, 
or  brown ;  sometimes  in  clonds,  spots,  or  stripes ;  semitrans- 
parent;  lustre  dull;  fracture  flat  conchoidal;  occurs  chiefly  in  the 
Chalk  formation,  as  in  England,  Ireland,  Aberdeenshire,  France, 
Germany,  and  other  countries;  sometimes  in  beds  or  vertical  veins, 
often  in  irregular  lumps  or  concretions,  inclosing  petrifactions,  as 
sponges,  echinoids,  shells,  or  siliceous  Infusoria.  'The  colour  is 
partly  derived  from  carbon,  or  organic  matter.  Used  formerly  for 
gun-flints,  and  still  for  the  maniuacture  of  glass  and  pottery;  and 
Cut  into  cameos  or  other  ornaments. 

Chalcedony :  semitransparent  or  translucent ;  white,  grey,  blue, 
green,  yellow,  or  brown;  stalactitic,  reniform,  or  botiyoidal,  and 
in  pseudomorphs  or  petrifactions  ;  Iceland,  Faroes,  Trevascus  in 
Cornwall,  Scotland,  Hungary,  Bohemia,  Oberstein.  Camelian: 
chiefly  blood-red,  but  also  yellow,  brown,  or  almost  black  ;  India, 
Arabia,  Surinam,  and  Siberia;  also  Bohemia,  Saxony,  and  Scotland 
(Fifeshire).  Plasvia:  leek-  or  grass-green,  and  waxy  lustre;  Olym- 
pus, Black  Forest,  India,  and  China. 

Chrysoprase:  apple-green;  Silesia,  and  Vermont  in  NorthAmerica. 
Moss-Agate  and  Bdiotrope  :  dark  green  and  dendritic  (called  Blood- 
stone when  sprinkled  with  deep  red  spots) ;  India,  Siberia,  Bohemia, 
Fass^  Valley,  island  of  Bum  and  other  parts  of  Scotland. 

136.  Tridymite,  SiO, . 

Hexagonal ;  P  middle  edge  124°  4',  polar  edges  127°  35'.  Single 
crystals,  very  minute  hexagonal  tables  of  OP,  ooP,  but  with  tno 
eiga  replaeed  by  P  and  ooP2.  are  rare  (fig.  814).     Mostly  twinned 


Fig.  314. 


Fig.  816.  Fig.  316. 

in  double  or  (oftener)  triple  combinations  (figs. 
315  to  317).  CI.  basal,  indistinct;  fracture  con- 
choidal. H.  -  7  ;  G.  -  2  -282  to  2  -326.  Colourless 
and  transparent;  vitreous,  pearly  on  the  base.  Fjg.  317, 
B.B.  like  quartz.  Co.;  90  silica,  with  some 
alumina,  magnesia,  and  iron  peroxide,  probably  from  the  matrix. 
Discovered  by  Von  Rath  in  the  trachyte  of  San  Cristobal,  near 
Pachnca,  in  Mexico ;  also  in  the  trachyte  of  Mout-Dore  (Puy-de- 
D&me),  the  Drachenfels,  and  Hungary.  Many  opals,  treated  with 
solution  of  potash,  leave  crystals,  as  those  from  Zimapsn,  Easchan, 
Silesia,  and  the  cacholong  from  Iceland.  Where  such  crystals 
are  abundant,  tho  opal  becomes  opaque  or  snow-white.  Jeozsch 
regards  these  as  still  another  variety  of  silica. 


890 


MINERALOGY 


187.  Opal,  »SiO„  HjO  to  SSiOj,  HjO  . 

Amorphous;  "fracture  conchoidal ;  very  brittle.  "H.  "5"5  to 
3*6;  G.  — 2  to  2'2.  Tiansparent  to  opaque;  vitreous,  inclining  to 
rtisinous.  Colourless,  but  often  white,  yellow,  red,  brown,  green, 
or  grey,  with  a  beaufeful  play  of  colours.  B.  B.  decrepitates  and 
becomes  opaque,  but  is  infusible;  in  the  closed  tube  yields  water; 
almost  wholly  soluble  in  solution  of  potash.  Co. :  silica,  with  5  to 
13  per  cent,  water.     Most  opals  are  mixtures  of  various  minerals. 

The  following  varieties  may  be  noticed: — (1)  Syalile,  Glassy  Opal, 
or  MUlUr's  Glass:  transparent,  colourless,  very  glassy;  small  botry- 
oidal,  or  incrusting;  Kaiserstuhl  in  the  Breisgan,  Schemnitz,  Silesia, 
Moravia,  Mexico,  and  other  places.  (2)  Fire  Opal  or  Girasol:  trans- 
parent ;  brilliant  vitreous  lustre ;  bright  hyacinth-red  or  yellow ; 
Zimapan  in  Mexico,  and  the  Faroes.  (3)  Noble  Opal,  semi-trans- 
parent or  translucent;  resinous,  inclining  to  vitreous;  bluish  or 
yellowish  white,  with  brilliant  prismatic  colours;  most  show  double 
refraction  and  are  binaial;  in  irregular  masses  or  veins  near  Eperies 
in  Hungary;Au3tralia,  (4)  Common OpaU  semitransparent,  vitreous; 
white,  yellow,  green,  red,  or  brown;  Hungary,  also  Faroes,  Iceland, 
the  Giant's  Causeway,  and  the  Western  Isles  of  Scotland.  (5) 
Semi-opal:  duller  and  less  pellucid;  Wood  Opal  or  Lithoxylon:  with 
the  form  and  texture  of  wood  distinctly  seen;  Hungary,  Bohemia, 
and  other  countries.  (6)  Menilite:  compact,  reniform;  opaque  and 
brown  or  bluish  grey;  Menilmontant,  near  Paris,  (7)  Opal  Jasper: 
blood-red,  brown,  or  yellow.  (8)  Cacholong:  opaque,  duU,  glimmer- 
ing, or  pearly,  and  yellowish  or  rarely  reddish  white;  in  veins  or 
reniform  and  incrusting ;  Faroes,  Iceland,  the  Giant's  Causeway.  One 
variety  is  named  Bydropkane,  from  imbibing 
■water,  and  becoming  translucent.  (9)  Siliceous 
SiTiter:  deposited  from  the  Geyser  and  other 
hot  springs;  and  Feari  Sinter:  incrusting 
volcanic  tufa  at  Santa  Fiora  in  Tuscany 
{Fiorite),  and  in  Auvergne. 

138.  Zir.coN,  ZrOa,  SiOj . 
Pyramidal ;    P  84°  20'.      Crystals,  ooP,   P ; 

often  with  3P3 ;  also  ooPoo,  P;  or  ooPoo  {s), 
ooP  (0,  P  (P),  8P3  {x),  P«  {t),  4P4  (3/),  6P5  {z), 
(fig.  318,  also  86,  87,  585).  Chiefly  prismatic 
or  pyramidal,  and  in  rounded  grains.  Trans- 
parent to  opaque ; 
vitreous,  often  ada- 
mantine. Rarely 
white,  generally  grey, 
yellow,  green,  or  fre-  (^ 
quently  red  and  ■^' 
brown.  B.B.  loses 
its  colour,  but  is  in> 
fiisible.  Not  affected 
by  any  acid  except 
concentrated  s.  -acid, 
after  long  digestion. 
C.c. :  66 '3  zirconia 
and  337  silica,  mth 
0  to  2  iron  peroxide  Fig.  318.  Fig.  319  (sp.  138). 
as  colouring  matter.  Miaslc,  Arendal,  Sweden,  Belgium  (at  Nil-St- 
Vincent),  Carinthia,  Tyrol,  Ceylon,  and  North  America;  in  Scot- 
land, Scalpay  in  Harris  (fig.  319),  Lewis  (Byacinth),  Sutherland, 
Ross.  The  colourless  varieties  are  sold  for  diamonds.  The  more 
brilliantly  coloured  are  named  hyacinths,  and  are  valuable  gems. 

SULPHIDES,  SELENIDES,  TELLURIDES,  &c. 

139.  Ptrite,  FeSa . 

Cubic  ;  scmitesseral  dominant  (figs.  320  to  323,  also  67  to  77,  and 
26  to  34).  Pentagonal-dodecahedron  in  excess;  or  strife,  produced 
by  oscillation  of  it  with  faces  of  the  cube,  visible.  Often  distorted, 
as  in  the  cubo-octahednil  twin  (fig,  323).  Sometimes  massive  and  in 
pseudomorphs.     CI.  cubic  or  octahedral,  difficult;  brittle.     H. -6 


Fig.  320. 


Fig.  821. 


Fig.  322. 

to  6*5;  G.  —  4*9  to  5 '2.  Brass-yellow,  often  somewhat  gold* 
Yellow;  streak  brownish  black,  when  broken  omits  smell  of 
filphur.  In  closed  tube  suJnliur  suhlimea.  B.B.  on  charcoal 
burns  with  blue  flame,  and  ouour  of  Bulphiirous  acid.  In  inner 
flame  fuses  to  magnetic  bead.  Sol.  in  n.  acid,  with  deposition  of 
sulphur.  Co.:  iron  46*7,  sulphur  C3'3;  often  contains  gold  in  visible 
grains,  when  broken,    Common  to  rocks  of  all  ages.    Tomnadashin, 


Fig.  324. 


Fig.  325. 


Fig.  326. 


Bimam,  Scotland;  Cornwall,  Englan,;;  Eib.iand  Traversella;  Peni; 

Rossie,   Middletown,  and  Schoharie  in  U.S.     ^urlUi-'-vs  pyrites, 

Berezoff  (Siberia),  Adelfors  (Sweden),  Mexico.     Used  to  be  cut  in 

facets  and  set  as  an  ornament, 

under   the   name    of  marca- 

sitcs;  also  for  striking  fire  in 

the  old  firelocks,  whence  tha 

name  of  firestone;  now  used 

for  manufacture  of  sulphuric 

acid. 

140.  Makcasite,  FeSj. 
Right   prismatic;    ccp(i/) 

106"  6'.    Crystals  tubular,  thin 
prismatic,      or      pyramidal.  ^'S-  323  (sp.  139). 

Twins  very  frequent,  also  cockscomb-like  groups,  or  spherical 
and  stalactitic.  CI  cop;  fracture  uneven;  brittle.  G.-4-65 
to  4  "9.  Greyish  bronze- 
yellow  to  greenish  grey, 
often  with  brown  crust ; 
streak  greenish  grey  or 
brownish  black,  B.B.,  &c., 
like  pyrite.  Very  prone  to 
decomposition,  being  changed 
into  green  vitriol,  which  may 
be  detected  by  the  tongue. 
Spear  Pyrites  are  twins  like 
fig.  325  ;  Littmitz,  Przibram.  Bepatic  Pyrites  or  Lelcrhics,  liver- 
brown,  generally  decomposing;  Harz,  Saxony,  Sweden.  Codcscomh 
Pyrites;  Derbyshire  and  the  Harz.     Kyrosite  contains  arsenic. 

141.  MispiCKEL,  FeSo  +  FeAs. 

Right  prismatic ;  ooP  {M)  111"  12'  (fig.  326). 
massive  or  columnar.  CI.  ooP;  fracture 
uneven;  brittle.  H.  =  5"5  to  6;  G.  «6 
to  6*2.  Silver- white  to  steel-gr*;y ; 
streak  black.  In  closed  tube  yields 
first  a  red  then  a  brown  Bublimate, 
lastly  metallic  arsenic.  B.B.  on  char- 
coal fuses  to  a  black  magnetic  globule. 
Sol.  in  n.  acid,  with  separation  of 
arseaious  acid  and  sulphur.  Co.:  34'3 
iron,  46'1  arsenic,  19*6  sulphur;  some- 
times silver  or  gold,  or  5  to  9  of  cobalt 
Cornwall,  Freiberg,  Ziunwald,  Sweden,  Franconia,  America. 

142.  Leucoptrite,  FeAs. 
Right  prismatic  ;   ooP  {d)  122° 26';  Poo  (o)  51^20'. 

fig.  327;  generally  massive  or  columnar.  CL  basal; 
fracture  uneven;  brittle.  H.  =  5  to  5'5  ;  G.  =-7  to 
7 '4.  Silver-white  with  darker  tarnish;  streak  greyish 
black,  B.  B.  emits  strong  smell  of  arsenic,  and  fuses 
to  a  black  magnetic  globule.  C.c,  i  iron  272, 
arsenic  72*8  ,  sometimes  iron  32'2  and  arsenic  66  S  ; 
always  some  sulphur,  and  often  nickel  and  cobalt. 
Fossum  in  Norway,  Andreasberg,  Stj'ria,  and  Silesia. 
Spathiopyrite,  from  Bicber  in  Hesse,  seems  a  variety. 

143.  CoBALTiTE,  CoSa-l-CoAs. 

Cubic  and  hemihedral ;  sometimes  massive  (figs.  67,  74).  CI. 
cubic,  perfect ;  brittle.  H.  =  5-5  ;  G.  -6  to  6 '3.  Brilliant  lustre. 
Pinkish  silver-white  ;  tarnishes  yellow  or  grey ;  streak  greyish 
black.  B.B.  with  borax  blue  glass;  evolves  smell  of  arsenic.  C.c: 
cobalt  35"9,  arsenic  44'9,  sulphur  19*2.  St  Just  in  Cornwall, 
Tunaberg  in  Sweden,  Skutterud  in  Norway,  Querbach  in  Silesia. 

144.  Glaucodote,  (Co,  Fe)Sa  +  (Co,  Fe)A8j, 

Right  prismatic;  ooP  112°  36'.  CI.  basal,  perfect  H.-£;G.- 
6.  Lustre  metallic.  Greyish  white  ;  streak  black.  C.c. :  cobalt 
247,  iron  11*9,  arsenic  43*2,  sulphur  20*2.     Huasco  in  ChilL 

145.  Smaltine,  (Co,  Fe,  Ki)As3. 

Cubic  ;  generally  like  fig.  27  ;  also  reticulated  and  granular  com- 
pact. CI.  octahednil  ;  fracture  uneven;  brittle.  H. -5'5;  G. — 
6*4  to  7 '3.  Tin-white  to  stccl-grey,  with  darker  iridescent  tarnish  ; 
streak  greyish  black.  Evolves  odour  of  arsenic,  when  broken  or 
heated.  C.c:  71  "4  arsenic,  28'6  cobalt;  sometimes  3  to  19  iron, 
and  1  to  12  nickel,  or  4  bismuth.  Dolcoath  ond  Redruth  in 
Cornwall,  Scbneeberg,  Annaberg,  Tunal>erg,  Aileuiont,  Chatham 
in  Connecticut. 

146.  CuLOANTiTK(fr/ii:te  JV^icJte/),  NiAs. 

Cubic  ;  generally  fine  granular  or  compact ;  fractnr«  uneven  ; 
brittle.  H.-6-6;  G.  "64  to  6  6,  Tin-white,  rapidly  tarnishing 
black.  In  the  closed  tubo  yields  a  sublimate  of  arsenic,  and 
becomes  copper-red.  Gives  odour  of  arsenic  when  brokeu.  B.B. 
fuses  with  much  smoko,  becomes  coated  with  crystals  of  arscuious 
acid,  nnd  leaves  a  brittle  grain  of  metal.  C.c:  28-2  nickel,  71  « 
arsenic,  but  often  with  cobalt  Schnoebei^,  Riechclsdorf,  AUe- 
mont,  Chath:;m  in  Connecticut 


Crystals  like 


Fig.  327. 


MINERALOGY 


391 


Ail,  0Bm>0BiTnx,  NiSi  +  KiAs,. 
_,/Oabic  (figa.  74,  30,  26).  CL  cubic,  generally  grannlar.  H.  -  6  -J ; 
0.-6 '67.  Lostio  meUllic.  Silver- white  to  steel-grcy,  decrepitates 
in  closed  tnbe.  B.  B.  fuses  to  a  blaclc  slag  ;  partially  soL  in  n.  acid. 
O.c;  S5'2  nickel,  45*4  arsenic,  and  19'4  sulphur;  sometimes 
with  cobalt.  Craignair,  n«ar  Loch  F^e,  with  23  nickel  and  6 
cobalt.     The  Harz,  Sweden,  Spain,  and  Brazil. 

148..  TJllmankite,  NiSb+NiS,. 

Cubic  (fi^  31,  29,  27) ;  often  tetrabedial,  and  in  twins  as  in 
Bgs.  323,  329.  CL  cubic,  perfect;  fracture  nneveiL  H.  -5  to  S'S ; 
ti. -8  2  to  6 '6.      Lead-grey  to  tin-white,  often  with  iridescent 


Fig.  328. 


Fig.  329. 


tarnish.  B.B.  fuses  with  dense  fumes.  SoL  inn.  acid.  C.c. :  27°4 
ftickel,  57*5  antimony,  and  15*1  sulphur.  Westerwald,  Siegen, 
Harzgerode,  Lolling  (Carinthia),  Lobenstein,  and  Bleiberg. 

149.  Raumelsbebqite,  NiAs. 

Right  prismatic ;  ooP  123°  to  124°.  Chiefly  massive,  or  in  radiating 
and  botryoidal  aggregates.  H. -6;  6. —7 '2.  Colour  tin- white. 
Schneeberg,  Reichelsdorf,  and  Wittichen  in  Baden. 

150.  Haueeite,  MnSj. 

Cubic  (figs.  30,  30-26,  30-33-37).    Crystals  single  or  in  spherical 

f  roups.  CT.  cubic,  perfect ;  H.  =  4  ;  G.  =  3  ■46.  Reddish  brown  to 
rownish  black  ;  streak  brownish  red.  In  closed  tube  yields  sul- 
phur, and  leaves  a  green  mass,  which  is  sol.  in  h.  acid.  C.c:  46 
manganese  and  54  sulphur.     Ealinka  in  Hungary. 

151.  PlTEEHOTiTE  (Mognetin  Pyrita),  Fe7Sj. 

Hexagonal;  P 126°  48'.  Crystals  rare,  sometimes  hemihedral  on  zj, 
commonly  massive  or  granular.  CL  <»P,  imperfect ;  brittle.  H.  — 
3 '6  to  4 '6  ;  G.  — 4 '5  to  4  "6.  Colour  bronze-yellow  with  pinchbeck- 
brown  tarmsh  ;  streak  greyish  black.    More  or  less  magnetic.     C.c: 


Fig.  330. 


Fig.  331. 


«S"65  iron  and  36  35  sulphur ;  sometimes  with  nickel.  Common  in 
primary  limestones  and  diorites  of  Scotland.  Crystallized  in  above 
forms  at  Aakaig,  on  Loch  Shin,  Sutherland ;  Carnarvon,  Cornwall, 
Fahlun,  Bodenmais,  Andreasberg.  Distinguished  by  its  colour 
and  its  solubility  in  h.  acid. 

152.  Lnra.siTE,  2(Co,  Cu)S  +  CoSj. 

Cubic  (fim.  29,  30) ;  often  twinned  ;  twin  face  0  ;  also  massive. 
CL  cubic  ;  brittle.  H.-5-5;  G.-.4-9  to  5.  Silver-white,  with  a 
yellow  tarnish  ;  streak  blackish  grey.  B.  B.  fuses  to  a  grey  mag- 
netic globule,  which  is  bronze-yellow  when  broken.  C.c:  cobalt 
432,  copper  14-4,  iron  3-5,  sulphur  33-5.     Bastnacs  (Sweden). 

153.  SlEOESiTE,  CoS-(-Ni5S,(!). 

Cubic  ;  generally  in  crystals  like  fig.  29  ;  also  massive.  Colour 
silver-white,  inclining  to  pink.  Other  features  like  linnaite.  C.c: 
cobalt  40-8,  nickel  146,  sulphur  431.  Miisen  near  Siegen,  Mary- 
land, and  Missouri.     The  American  mineral  has  30 '5  of  nickeL 

164.    POLTDTMITE,  Ni,S,. 

Cubic  ;  in  minute  octahedral  crystals  and  flattened  twins.  CL 
mbic.  H.  -4-5;  G.-4-81.  C.c:  39-45  nickeL  4055  sulphur,  but 
generally  with  4  of  iron.  Westphalia.  Saynitt  or  grunauUe  seems 
to  be  a  bismuthic  and  cobaltlo  raristy ;  it  ia  from  Gronan  in  Sara- 
>Utenkirchen. 


Tig.  332. 
Leadhills,  Peritland  Hills, 


155.  Bthiohkite,  3Ni3  +  2NiS,. 

H. -3  to  3-5;  G.-47.  C.c:  64-23  nickel,  2-79  Iron.  42-8« 
sulphur.     From  the  Westerwald. 

156.  HoBBACHiTE,  4FeJS,•^Ni3S,. 

Crystalline  masses.  H. -4 -5  ;  G. -4-43  to  4-7.  Colour  pinch- 
beck-brown ;  streak  black.  C.c. :  nickel  11  98,  iron  41  '96,  sulphur 
46-87.     Horbach  in  the  Black  Forest. 

157.  SKUTTEEUDiTB,  CoAs, . 

Cubic  (figs.  30,  26  with  ZZ,  40)  and  granular.  CL  cubic ;  frac- 
ture conchoidai ;  brittle.  H.  =.6  ;  G.  -6  74  to  6  84.  Tin-white  to 
lead-erey.  Lustre  brilliant.  In  closed  tube  gives  sublimate  of 
metallic  arsenic,  otherwise  like  smaltine.  C.c:  79  arsenic,  21 
cobalt     Skutterud,  near  Modnm  in  Norway. 

168.  Galena,  PbS. 

Cubic  ;  crystals  chiefly  cube,  octahedron,  and  rhombic  dodeca- 
hedron ;  rarely  20  and  202.  Also  massive  and  granular,  compact, 
or  laminar,  and  in  pseudomorphs  of  pyromorphito  and  othw 
minerals.  CL  cubic,  very  perfect; 
fracture  scarcely  observable ;  sectile. 
H.  =  2-5;  G.-7-2  to  76.  Lead- 
grey,  with  darker  or  rarely  iridescent 
tarnish ;  streak  greyish  black.  B.B. 
decrepitates,  fuses,  and  leaves  a 
globule  of  lead.  SoL  in  n.  acid. 
Co.:  86-7  lead,  and  13  3  sulphur; 
but  usually  contains  a  little  silver, 
ranging  from  1  to  3  or  6  parts  in 
10,000  ;  rarely  1  per  cent,  or  more. 
Some  contain  copper,  zinc,  or  anti- 
mony, others  selenium,  and  others 
(the  "supersulphuret")  probably  free 
sulphur  (2  to  8  per  cent.).  Most 
common  ore  of  lead  in  many  countries. 

Linlithgow,  Inverkeithing,  Monaltrie,  Tyndrum,  Strontian,  Islay, 
Orkney,  Cornwall,  Derbyshire  (Castletown),  Cumbcrhtnd  (Alston 
Moor),  Durham  (AUenhead),  Wales,  Isle  of  Man. 

159.  CtTPBOPLUMBITE,  2PbS -H  Cu^S  . 

Cubic     H.  =.2-6;  G.  =6-4.     Bluish  grey.     Chili. 

160.  Beeoebite,  ePbS-l-BijSj. 

Cubic.  G.  =  7-27.  CL  cubic.  Light  to  dark  grey.  Lustre  bi-illiant. 
C.c:  sulphur  15,  bismuth  20-6,  lead  64-2,  with  copper  1-7.  Grant 
(Park  county,  Colorado). 

161.-  Clatjsthalite,  PbSe. 

Cubic;  but  massive  granular.  H.  —  2  5  to  3;  0.  =  S'2  to  8-8. 
Lead-grey;  streak  grey.  B.B.  fuses,  smells  of  selenium,  colours 
the  flame  blue,  stains  the  support  red,  yellow,  and  white,  and 
volatilizes,  except  a  small  residue,  without  fusing.  C.c. :  72-7  lead, 
27-3  selenium  ;  but  sometimes  11-7  of  silver,  Zorge,  Lerbach,  and 
Clausthal  in  the  Harz.  Tilkerodite,  or  Sden^Cobalt-Blei,  containing 
3  per  cent,  of  cobalt,  fr jm  Tilkerode,  is  a  vaiiety. 

162.  ZOKGITE. 

Massive  granular  ;  like  clausthalite,  but  inclining  to  reddish,  and 
often  tarnished.  There  are  four  varieties,  (a)  Selen-Blei-Kuf/cr : 
G.  —  7  -4  to  7  -5  ;  5PbSe  -I-  CuSe  ;  with  4  copper,  65  lead,  30  selenium. 
(6)  The  same,  butwith  G.  -5-6  ;  4Pb,  4Cu,  7Se  ;  with  158  copper, 
48-4  lead,  and  35  selenium,  (c)  Sden-Eup/er-BUi:  with  G. -7; 
2PbSe  -I-  CuSe;  with  8  copper,  57  lead,  and  32  selenium,  (d)  2PbSa  +■ 
9CuSe  ;  with  46-64  copper,  16-58  lead,  and  36-59  selenium.  From 
Tilkerode  and  Zorge  in  the  Harz,  and  near  Gabcl  in  Thuringia. 

163.  Altaite,  PbTe. 

Cubic  and  granular;  fracture  uneven ;  sectile.  H.— 3  to  3-6;  G.— 
8-lto8-2.  Tin-white  to  yellow,  with  yellow  tarnish.  B.  B.  coloura 
the  flame  blue,  fusing  to  a  globule,  which  almost  wholly  volatilizea 
C.c.  :  61-9  lead  and  38-1  tellurium.  ZavcdinsH  in  the  Altai, 
California,  Colorado,  and  ChilL 

164.  REDEn-rHTTE  {Copper  Glance),  CujS. 

Right  prismatic  ooP  (o)  119°  35';  P  (P)  middle  edge  125°  22'; 
if  (o)  middle  edge  65°  40';  2P<o  {d)  middle  edge  125°  40';  J?oo  («) 
middle  edge  65°  48'.     Crystals  OP  («),  ooP  (o),  cb?oo  (p)  (figs.  838 


Fig.  333.  Fig.  334. 

834);  with  hexagonal  aspect;  also  twins;  and  massive.     CL  ooP, 
imperfect ;  fracture  conchoidai  or  uneven  ;  sectile.     H.  —  2  6  to  $  j 


392 


MINERALOGY 


G. -60  to  6-8.  Eathcr  dull;  brighter  on  tho  streak.  Blackish 
lead-grey,  with  a  blue  or  other  tarnish.  B.B.  colours  tho  flame 
blue  ;  on  charcoal  in  the  oxygen  flame  sputters,  and  fuses  easily  ;  in 
the  red.  flame  "becomes  solid.  With  soda  gives  a  grain  of  copper. 
Green  solution  in  n.  acid,  leaving  sulphur.  Cc:  79-8  copper,  20-2 
sulphur.  Fassnet  Burn  (HaddiDgtonshire),  Ayrshire,  Fair  island, 
near  Kedmth  and  Land's  End  in  Cornwall,  Saxony,  Silesia,  Nor- 
way, tho  Banat,  Siberia,  and  the  United  States.  Important  copper 
ore. 

165.  Stkometerite,  CujS  +  AgS. 

Right  prismatic ;  isomorphous  with  redruthite.  Crystals  rare  ; 
osually  massive  ;  fracture  flat,  very  sectile.  H. -2-5;  G. -6-2  to 
ii-3.  Bright.  Blackish  lead-grey.  Cc. :  53-1  sUvcr,  31-2  copper, 
and  157  sulphnr,  but  often  indeberminat*  proportions  of  silver  (3  to 
63)  and  copper  (30  to  76).  SchUngenbeac  in  Siberia,  Rudelstadt  in 
Silesia,  and  Catemo  in  Cliili. 

168.  Berzelinite,  CujSe. 

Crystalline,  in  thin  dendritic  crusts,  and  imbedded  in  calcite. 
Silver-white  with  a  black  tarnish  ;  streak  shining.  In  open  tube 
gives  a  red  sublimate  of  selenium,  with  white  crystals  of  selenious 
acid.  B.  B.  on  charcoal  fuses  to  a  grey,  slightly  malleable  bead, 
giving  odour  of  selenious  acid;  with  soda  a  grain  of  copper.  Cc. ; 
61  '5  copper  and  33  '5  selenium.  Skrikerum  in  Smiland,  Lerbach 
in  the  Harz. 

167.  CuooKESiTE,  (Cu'n)jSo. 

In  crystalline  grains  the  size  of  peaa,     H. -2-6  to  3;  G. -6-9.i 
Brittle.     Lead-grey.     Metallic.      B.B.  colours  the  flame  intens^'^ 
green.     Cc:    4576   copper,    371   silver,    17'25  thallium,    35''27 
selenium.     From  Ski-ikcrum. 

16S.  EcKAiRiTE,  CuoSe-f  AgSo. 

Massive  and  granular  crystalline.  Cuts  with  knife.  Lead-grey ; 
streak  .shining.  B.  B.  fuses  to  a  brittle  metallic  grain.  Cc.  :43'1 
silver,  25  3  copper,  and  31  '6  selenium.     Skrikerum,  Atacama,  Chili. 

169.  Argentite,  AgjS  . 

Cubic.  ooO=o  ;  O;  ooO;  and  202  (figs.  29,  56).  Crystals  generally 
misshapen,  with  uneven  or  curved  faces ;  in  druses,  or  linear 
groups ;  olso  arborescent,  capillary,  or  in  crusts.  CI.  indistinct ; 
fracturu  hackly  ;  malleable  and  flexible.  H.  =2  to  2*5;  G.  =  7  to 
7*4.  K.irely  brilliant,  more  so  on  tho  sti-eak.  Blackish  lead-grey, 
often  with  a  black,  brown,  or  rarely  iridescent  tarnish.  B.B.  on 
charcoal  fuses,  intumesces  greatly,  and  leaves  a  grain  of  silver. 
SoL  in  con.  n.  acid.  Cc. :  87  silver  and  13  sulphur.  Huel 
Duchy,  Dolcoath,  Herland,  and  near  Callington  in  Cornwall ; 
Alva  in  Stirlingshire:  Freiberg,  Marienberg,  Annaberg,  Schneeberg, 
Johann-Georgenstadt,  JoachimsthaJ,  Schemnitz  and  Kremnitz, 
Kongsberg.  Common  ore  at  Guanajuato  and  Zacatecas  in  Mexico, 
in  Peru,  and  at  Blagodat  in  Siberia. 

170.  ACANTHITE,  AgS . 

Right  prismatic.  H.  =2-5;  G.  =7-33.  Iron-black.  Cc.  Kke 
argentite,  thus  dimorphcus.  Freiberg  and  Clausthal,  on  argentite; 
also  at  Copiapo. 

171.  Jalpaite,  3AgS-fCn3S. 

Cubic;  form  0.  CI.  cubic;  malleable.  H. -2-6;  G. -6-88.  Dark- 
grey.  Metallic  lustre.  Cc:  silver  7178,  copper  14'04,  aulphar 
li'2.     Jalpa  in  Mexico. 

172.  Lautite  (CiLAg)  As.S. 
Granular.     Iron-black.     H. -3;  G. -4-96.     Cc:  copper  28 '3, 

silver  12,  arsenic  41-8,  sulphur  17 '86.     Lauta,  near  Marienberg. 

173.  Nadmannite,  AgSe. 
In  thiu  plates  and  granular.    CI.  hcxabedral,  perfect.    Malleable. 

H. -2-6;G. -8.     Iron-blaok.    Splendent.    Co.:  73  silver  and  27 
selenium,  with  4-91  lead.     Tilkerodo. 

174.  Hessite,  AgTe. 
Cubic  or  anorthic(?) ;  massive  and  granular.     Slightly  malleable. 

11.-2  5  to  3;  G. -8-1  to  8-4.5.  Blackish  lead-grey  to  steel 
grey.  B.B.  on  charcoal  fumes,  fuses 
spots,  and  leaves  a  brittle  grain  of 
silver.  Cc:  62-8  silver  and  37-2 
tellurium.  Zavodinski  (Altai),  Nag- 
yog,  Rctbunya,  California,  and  Chili. 

175.  Petzite,  2AgTe-f  AuTe. 
Like    hessite.      Two   varieties  : — 

(o)  with  G.  -8  72,  containing  18  per    q 
cent  of  gold,  from  Nagyag  ;  (6)  with 
G.  -9  to  9-4,  and  24  to  26  of  gold. 
Calaveras  and    Tuolumne    in    Cali- 
fornia, Colorado. 

176.  DisoBASITE.  AgnSb  ;  AgjSb  ; 
and  AgjSb. 

Right  prismatic;  P  with  polar 
cdgpa  132"  42'  and  92°;  ooP  120° 
aeaily  (figs.  335,  336).     Crysluls  ahort  iitlamalic,  or  thick  tiibul 


and  vertically  striated  (fi^.  335) ;  twins  nnited  by  a  foes  of  xP  ; 
often  in  stellar  groups  (hg.  336) ;  also  massive  or  gronalw.  (3. 
basal  and  Pco,  distinct;  o>P  imperfect ;  rathe 
brittle,  and  slightly  malleable.  H. -3-5 
G. -9-4  to  9-8.  Silver-white  to  tin-white,  witli 
a  yellow  or  blackish  tornish.  B.B.  fuses  easily, 
fumes  staining  the  charcoal  white,  and  leaves 
a  gMin  of  silver.  Sol.  in  n.  acid.  Cc. :  64 
to  84  silver,  and  36  to  16  antimony.  Andreas- 
berg,  Allemont  in  Dauphine,  Spain,  and  Ar- 
^neras  in  Coquimbo  (Chili), 
tains 


Fig.  336. 
valuable  ore  of  silver.     A  variety 
1  silver  and  5'8  antimony,  and  is  Ag,eSb. 


Fig.  837. 


to  a  black  grain  with  white 


from  Chili 

177.  Blende,  ZnS. 

Cubic  and  tetrahedral  (figs.  152,  153,  337).  Twins  remarkably 
common,  united  by  a  face  of  0,  and  several  times  repeated  ;  fre- 
quently massive  and  granular.  CI.  o=0,  perfect ;  very  brittle.  H.  - 
3"5to4;  G.  ■=  3 '9  to  4  "2.  Semitransparent  to  opaque  ;  adamantine 
and  resinous.  Brown  or  black,  also 
red,  yellow,  and  green,  rarely  colour- 
less or  white.  B.B.  decrepitates,  often 
violeutly,  but  only  fuses  on  very  thin 
edges.  Sol.  in  con.  n.  acid,  leaving 
sulphur.  Cc:  67  zinc  and  33  sulphur; 
but  generally  in  the  darker  varieties 
with  1  to  15  iron,  0  to  3  cadmium. 
Very  abundant.  Glen  Gaim  (bright 
yellow  and  highly  phosphorescent), 
Leadhills.  Tyndrum,  (Cornwall,  Derby- 
shire, Cumberland,  the  Harz,  Freiberg, 
Przibram,  Schemnitz,  Kapnik,  North 
America,  Peru.  Used  for  producing  zinc  vitriol  and  sulphur,  and 
as  an  ore  of  zinc.  Lithium,  indium,  thallium,  and  galliam  bar* 
all  been  found  in  blende. 

178.  Witrtzite,  6ZnS-(-FeS. 

Hexagonal ;  ot.P,  P,  with  well-marked  horizontal  striee.  CI. 
basal,  and  prismatic.  H.  =  3"5  to- 4  :  G.  — 3*9  to  4'1.  Brownish 
black  ;  streak  light  brown.  Cc.  :  like  blende,  which  is  thus  dimor- 
phous.   Oruro  in  Bolivia,  and  Przibram  (radiated  and  cadmiferous). 

179.  Greenockite,  CdS . 

Hexagonal,  and  generally  hemimoqihic  PS6''21';  2P  123°  64'. 
Crystals  2P,  OP,  00 P,  P;  orP,  2P,  ooP;  attached  singly.  CI.  »?, 
imperfect;  basal  perfect.  H. -3  to  3-5;  G. -4-S  to  4  9.  Trans- 
lucent; brilliant  resinous,  or  adaman- 
tine. Honey-  or  orange-yellow, 
rarely  brown  ;  streak  yellow.  B.B. 
decrepitates,  and  becomes  carmine- 
red,  but  again  yellow  when  cold ; 
fused  with  soda  forms  a  reddish 
brown  coating  on  charcoal.  Sol.  in 
h.  acid.      -        


Fig.  338. 
C.cT:  776  cadmium,  and  224  sulphur.     Bishopton  ia 


Fig.  335  («p.  176). 


Renfrewshire;  Przibram,  and  Friedensville  in  Pennsylvania. 

180.  Alabandine,  MuS. 
Cubic  ;  O  and  ccOoo  ;  usually  massive  and  granular.     CI.  hexs- 

bedral,  perfect;  fracture  uneven;  rather  brittle.  H.  — 3"5  to  4; 
G.  ■=3'9  to  4.  Opaque  ;  semi-metallic.  Ii-on-black  to  dark  steel- 
grey,  brownish  black  tumish  ;  streak  dark  green.  B.B.  fuses  on  thin 
edges  to  a  brown  slag.  Sol.  in  h.  acid.  C.c. :  63  manganese  and 
37  sulphur.  Nagyag,  Kapnik,  Alabanda  in  Caria,  Mexico,  and 
Brazil. 

181.  MiLLERITE,  NiS . 
Hexagonal  rhombohedral ;   R  144°  8';  in  fine  acicular  prisms 

of  aP2,  R.  Brittle.  H.-3-5:  G.-4-6(or6-26to6-65).  Ijrass- 
or  bronze-yellow,  with  a  grey  or  iridescent  tarnish.  B.B.  fuses 
easily  to  a  blackish  metallic  globule,  which  boils  and  sputters. 
In  nitro-hydrochloric  acid  forms  a  green  solution.  C.c:  64 '4  nickel 
and  35 -6  sulphur.  Morven  (Argyllshire),  Chn]>el  (Fife),  Ayrshire, 
near  St  Austell  in  Cornwall,  at  McrthjT-Tj-dvil,  Johann-Georgen- 
stadt, Joachimsthal,  Przibram,  Camsdorf,  Kiccbelsdorf,  Pennsyl- 
vania. 

182.  Pentlanbite  (£«<n>itci«?Kfe),  2FeS-fNiS. 
Cubic  ;  massive  ond  granular  ;  fracture  uneven  ;  brittle.     H.  — 

3'5  to  4  ;  G.  — 46.  Light  pinchbeck-brown,  with  darker  streak. 
Not  niagni'tic  B.B.  acts  in  general  like  pyrrhotito  ;  the  roosted 
powder  fonns  with  boiax  in  the  red.  flame  a  blnck  onaquc  glass. 
C.c:  36  sulphur,  42  iron,  and  22  nickel  ;  but  mixed  witJ»pyrrhotit€ 
and  cbalcopyrite.  Lillehamuier  in  southern  Norway.  InKrarils, 
5FeS  -H  NiS,  with  11  of  nickel,  from  near  Inveraray,  is  a  variety. 

183.  NlCKELiTE  (C(7>fKr  A'icM),  NiAs. 
Hexagonal ;  P  86°  50'.     Crystals   <»P,  OP  ;  rare.     Arborescent, 

ri  niform,  and  massive ;  fracture  coachoidal  ond  uneven  ;  britilo. 
11.  -5  5  ;  G.  -76  to  7  7.  Ligl  icrpperied,  with  a  blockish  tarnish. 
It  forms  no  sublimate  in  tb.e  closed  tube.     B.B.  fuses  with  stifcug 


MINERALO(:J¥ 


^93 


AUne^to  s  white,  brittle,  loetallic  globule.  C.c:  48 '6  nickel  and 
564  arsenic  Hilderston  in  Linlithgow,  Pibble  in  Kirkcadbright, 
LeadhilU,  Pengelly  and  Huel  Chance  in  Cornwall,  Freiberg,  Schnee- 
berg,  Joachimsthal,  Saugerhausen,  Andreasberg,  Chathani  in  Con- 
jiectieat.    Used  as  an  ore  of  nickel. 

^S4.  BailTHAjrPTiTE  {Jntirrumial  Nicitt),  NiSb. 

Hexagonal ;  P  86°  66'.  Crystals,  thin  striated  hexagonal  tables 
Bf  OP,  »P.  H.  -  5  ;  G.  -  7  -5  to  7  6.  Brilliant  Light  copper-red, 
generally  with  violet  tarnish.  B.B.  fames,  bat  foses  with  great 
rifficalty.     C.c:  32-2  nickel  and  67-8  antimony.     Andreasberg. 

185.  SriOTJiTK  {Tin  Pj/riUa),  2Ca9,  SnSj  +  2(FeS,  ZnS)  +  SnSj. 
Onbic  ;  in  cabea  very  rare,  generally  massive  and  granular.    CL 

liexaltedral,  imperfect ;  fracture  nneven ,  or  small  conchoidal ; 
brittle.  H. -4;  G. -4-3  to  4-5.  Steel-grey  ;  streak  black.  C.c: 
26  to  32  tin,  24  to  30  copper,  6  to  12  iron,  2  to  10  zinc,  and  30 
salphor.  Huel  Rock  near  St  Agnes,  St  Michael's  Mount,  and  Cam- 
"broa  in  Cornwall;  Zinnwald.     Bell-metal  ore. 

186.  Steknberoite,  (AgS -h  2FeS)FeS, . 

Right  prismatic;  P  middle. edge  118°.  Crystals  usually  thin 
tabular;  in  twins,  or  in  fan-like  and  spheroidal  groups.  CI.  basal, 
lurfect ;  sectile,  and  flexible  in  thin 
laminae.  a  =  l  to  IS;  G.-4-2  to 
4*25.  Dark  pinchbeck-brown,  often 
a  violet-blue  tarnish  ;  streak  black. 
O.C.:  34-2  silver,  86-4  iron,  and  304 
sulphur.  Joachimsthal,  Schneeberg, 
«nd  Johann-GeorgensUdt.     Flexible  '^Z-  ^■^^■ 

SulphuTct  of  Silver,  from  Hungary  and  Freiberg,  is  identical.  Frie- 
ttiU,  AgjFcjSj,  in  twins  (fig.  339),  is  a  variety. 

187.  RiTTIHOEEITE,  AgAs . 

Oblique  prismatic.  coP  126°  18' ;  ooPoo  and  OP.  CI.  basal ; 
fracture  conchoidal;  brittle.  H.— 2 '5  to  3;  G.  =  5  63.  C.c:  silver 
677,  the  remainder  being  arsenic,  with  someselenium.  Joachimsthal, 
Silesia,  Felsobanya  in  Hungary. 

188.  COTELLINE,  CuS. 

Hexagonal.  Crystals  ooP,  OP;  rare;  usually  reniform  and  granu- 
lar. CI.  basal;  sectile.  Thin  laminffi  flexible.  H. -16  to  2  ;  G. - 
3 •a  to  46.  Resinous.  Indigo-blue;  streak  black.  B.B.  burns 
■with  blue  flame.  Sol.  in  n.  acid.  C.c:  667  copper,  33'3  sulphur. 
Caimbeg  in  Cornwall,  Vesuvius,  Leogang  (Austria),  Chili,  Angola, 
New  Zealand,  and  Victoria.  ~ 

189.  Chalcoptbite  (Ciyper  i»jn-i<M),  CuS■^FeS. 
Pynmidal ;  and  sphenoidal  hemihedric  ;  JP  (P)  with  polar  ed^es 

71°  20' ;  oaPoo.  Crystals  generally  small  and  deformed;  twins 
very  common,  like  fig.  840.  Poo  (6)  69°  10',  2Pco(<:)  126°  11', 
<)P'(n),  P  (fig.  89).  Uost  commonly  compact  and  disseminated; 
also  botryoidal  and  reniform.  CL  pyramidal  2Po:>  ;  some- 
times rather  distinct;  fracture  conchoidal  or  nneven.  H.  —  3'5to 
4;  G.  —  4-1  to  4 '3.  Brass-yellow,  often  with  a  gold-yellow  or 
iridescent  tarnish  (peacock  copper  ore) ; 
streak  greenish  black.  B.B.  on  charcoal  be- 
comes darker  or  black,  and  on  cooling  red; 
fuses  easily  to  a  steel-grey  globule,  which  at 
length  becomes  magnetic,  brittle,  and  greyish 
red  on  the  fractured  surface  ;  with  borax  and 
aoda  yields  a  grain  of  copper;  moistened  with 
b.  acid,  colours  the  flame  blue.  C.c.  essenti- 
ally 1  atom  copper,  1  atom  iron,  and  2  atoms 
sulphur;  with  345  copper,  30-6  iron,  and  35  "S-  S*'- 

sulphur.  The  most  abundant  ore  of  copper.  In  Kirkcudbright- 
shire and  "Wigtownshire,  Tyqdrum  in  Perthshire,  Invemess-shire, 
Lairg  in  Sutherland,  Shetland,  Anglesea  (Park's  mine),  Derbyshire, 
Staffordshire,  Cumberland,  Ounnislake  (Devonshire),  St  Austell 
(Coi'nwall),  Wicklow,  Falun,  Rbraas,  Freiberg,  Mansfeld,  Goslar, 
Lauterberg,  Miisen,  Siberia,  ft  is  distinguished  from  pyrite  by 
yielding  readily  to  the  knife,  by  its  tarnish,  and  by  forming  a  green 
solution  in  n.  acid. 

190.  BOENITE  {Purple  Copper),  SCu^,  Fe^S^ . 

Cubic.  Crystals  ooQoo,  and  ooOoo,  O;  but  rare,  and  generally 
rough  or  uneven  ;  also  twins.  Mostly  massive.  CI.  octahedral  ; 
fracture  conchoidal ;  slightly  brittle  ;  sectile.  H.  =•  3  ;  G.  =  4  9  to 
5  1.  Colouf  between  copper-red  and  pinchbeck-brown,  with  tarnish 
at  first  rod  or  brown,  then  violet  or  sky-blue  ;  streak  greyish  black. 
B.  B.  acts  like  chalcopyrite.  Soluble  in  con.  h.  acid,  leaving  sulphur. 
C.c:  66-6  copper,  16-4  iron,  and  23  sulphur.  Crystals  near  Rcdnith 
and  St  Day  in  Cornwall ;  massive  at  Killarney  in  IreLand  ;  also 
N«rway,  Sweden,  Mansfeld,  Silesia,  Tuscaay,  and  ChilL  An  ore  of 
copper, 

191.  iCoBAN,  CuS,  FcjSj' 

Cubic  H.  -"i;  G.  -"4"1.  Bronze-yellow;  streak  bronze-yellow  and 
tilack.     Barracanao  in  Cuba,  Tunaberg  and  Esfveltorp  in  Sweden. 


11)2.    DOHEYKITE,  Cu„A9  . 

Botryoidal  or  massive  ;  fracture  uneven  ;  brittle,  n.  —  e  to  S-6 ; 
G.  —  7  to  7  "6.  Tin-  or  silver-white,  inclining  to  yellow,  with  an 
iridescent  tarnish.  Not  affected  by  h.  acid.  C.c:  71  "63  copper  and 
28 '37  arsenic  Calabnzo  in  Coquimbo,  and  Copiapo  in  Chili.  C(m- 
dwrri^  massive,  seems  an  impure  variety ;  from  Condurrow  mine  and 
near  Redruth  (Cornwall).  AlgodoniU  from  Lake  Superior,  W^i^ 
neyite  from  Mexico,  and  Darvnnite  (88  copper)  arev  aUo  identical 
or  similar. 

193.  Melonite,  NijTcj. 

Hexagonal ;  minute  tabular  crystals,  foliated  and  granular. 
Metallic  lustre.  Reddish  white;  streak  dark  grey.  C.c. :  nickel 21, 
silver  4'1,  tellurium  73°4;     Stanislaus  and  Calaveras  (California). 

1?4.  Syitakite,  AgTcj-HAuTe,. 

Oblique  prismatic,  C  65°  21'.  a.P  94°  26';  -  P»to  19°  21';  P"oo 
62°  43'.  Crystals  small,  short  acicular,  and  often  twinned  and  grouped 
in  rows  like  letters ;  sectile,  but  friable.      H.  —  1  '5  to  2 ;  G.  —  7  '99  t« 


Fig.  341.  Fig.  342. 

8 "33.  Steel-grey  to  silver-white,  and  pale  bronze-yellow.  C.c. :  59 "o 
tellurium,  with  0  6  to  8 '5  antimonv,  26 '5  gold  (in  some  30),  and 
13"9  silver,  with  0'2  to  15  lead.  Oftenbanya  {Graphic  Tellvri-um), 
Nagyag  ( Tellow  Tellurium),  and  California. 

195.  Naoyaqite,  Slack  Tellurium. 

Pyramidal.    P  137°  52';  Pco  122°  60';  and  OP  (fig.  S43).    Crystals 
tabular,  rare;  in  general  in  thin  plates  or  foli- 
ated.    Ch  basal,  perfect;   sectile  ;  thin  lamin% 
flexible.       H.-l    to   15;     G. -685   to   72. 
Splendent.      Blackish  lead-grey.     C.c:  51  to 

63  lead,  6  to  9  gold,  1  copper  and  silver,  13  to 
32  tellurium,  3  to  12  sulphur,  and  0  to  4  5 
antimony,  Nagyag  and  Offenbanya  in  Tran- 
sylvania. 

196.  Maldonite,  AUjBi. 
H.-1-6    to    2;     G.=8-2  to    97.      Colour 

silver-white,  with  black  tamisfi.     C.  c. :    gold     ^-  3^3  (sp.  195). 

64  °6,  bismuth  35 '6.    Occurs  in  granite  veins  at  Ualdon  in  Victoria. 

197.  Chile.xite,  AgjjBi. 

Minute  plates  of  metallic  lustre.  Silver-white,  but  tarnisuea  red 
or  yellow.  Silver  83  9,  bismuth  16  1.  From  the  mine  Sas 
Antonio  near  Copiapo  in  Chili. 

198.  CiNNABAE,   HgS. 

Hexagonal  and  rhombohedral;  R71°4S'.  R(n),0R(o),ooE  (nn,  {R 
(i)  (fig.  344).  Ciystals  rhombohedral;  also 
gi-anu^r,  compact,  and  earthy.  CI.  ooB, 
perfect ;  fracture  uneven  and  splintery ; 
sectile.  H.-2  to  25;  G.=8to8-2.  Traus- 
parent,  with  circular  polarization.  Adaman- 
tine. Cochineal-red  ;  streak  scarlet.  C.c: 
86  2  mercury, 13-8  sulphur.  Idria  in  Camiola, 
Almaden  iu  Spain,  Wolfstein  in  Bavaria, 
Saxony,    Hungary,    Tuscany,    China,    Call-  '"'?■  ***• 

fornia,  Mexico,  Peru.  Chief  ore  of  mercury.  Also  a  pigment. 
Bepaiic  Cinnabar  is  a  bituminous  mixture. 

199.  TiEMANNITE,  HgSe. 

Finegranular;  brittle.  H.  =2'6;  G.  =7'1  to  74.  Brilliant.  Dark 
lead-grey.     C.c. :  75  mercury,  26  selenium.     Clausthal  and  Zorge. 

200.  Lekbachite,  (PbHg)Se . 

Granular  and  massive  G, -7'8  to  7  88.  Colour  stc8l-gr«y  to 
iron-black.     Brittle.     Lerbach,  Tilkerode  in  the  Harz. 

201.  Ghanajtatite,  Bi^Se,. 

Massive;  granubr;  foliated  and  fibrous.  n.  =  2-5  toS;G.=e-25. 
Blue-grey;  streak  grey  and  shining.  Metallic;  soft  and  malleable. 
C.c:  selenium  34-3,  sulphur  7,  bismuth  65.  Santa  Rosa  (Qnanft- 
juato,  Mexico). 

XVI.  — SO 


394 


MINERALOGY 


Fig.  346  (ap.  206). 


202.  COLORADOITE,  HgTc  . 

Massive  and  gr.nnu'ar.  H.  -  ^J;  G. -8'63.  MctalUo.  Iron-black. 
ConchoiUal  fracture.     Co.:  01  mercury,  ?9  teUuiium.     Colorado. 

203.  MOLTBDENITE,   MoS  . 

Hexagonal  (!).  Crystals  OP,  kP;  and  OP,  »P,P.  Generally  scaly. 
CI.  basal,  perfect;  sectile  and  flexible.  Feels  greasy.  H.  —  ltol'6; 
O.  —  4'6  to  4 '9.  Lead-grey  with  red  tinge  ;  grey  streak  on  paper, 
greenish  on  porcelain.  B.B.  colours  flame  siskin-green  ;  on 
charcoal  yields  sulphurous  fumes, 
and  forms  a  white  coating ;  in  warm 
nitrochloric  acid  a  greenish,  and  in 
boiling  8.  acid  a  blue  solution, 
C.c. :  69  molybdenum,  41  sulphur. 
!n     granular     limestones,     ana    in  '"'  ^^''■ 

granites  in  Suthailand,  Ross,  Aberdeen,  Argyll,  and  Kirkcudbright; 
Shap  in  Westmoreland,  Caldbeckfell  in  Cumberland,  Arendal, 
Zinnwald,  Mont  Blanc,  Maine,  Connecticut,  Yea  in  Victoria.  Used 
for  preparing  blue  carmine,  for  colouring  porcelain. 

204.  IiAtraiTE,  {RuOs)jSj. 

Cubic.  Crystals  0,  ooOoo  ;  oo03,  ooOoo.  CI.  octahedral  H.  = 
7-5;G.-6-99.  Metallic,  bright  Dark  iron-black.  Powdergrey. 
Brittle.  C.c.  :  ruthenium  66-18,  osmium  3-03,  sulphur  3179. 
From  platinum  grains,  in  Borneo  and  Oregon. 

205.  Kealgar,  AsS. 

Oblique  prismatic.  ooPW74'26';  P«co(n)132°  2",  coP°2  (0113° 
16'.  Crystals  (fig.  346)  generally  prismatic; 
sometimes  massive.  CL  basal,  also  clino- 
diagonal ;  fracture  splintery ;  sectile. 
H. -1-5  to  2;  G. -3-4  to  3-6.  Trans- 
parent to  opaque;  resinous.  Aurora-red  ; 
streak  orange-yellow.  C.c:  arsenic  70, 
sulphur  30.  iTag 
Gotthard,  Vesuvius. 

206.  Oepiment,  AsjSj. 

Right  prismatic.  ooP  117"  49'.  Fre- 
quently foliated.  CI.  brachydiagonal ; 
striated  vertically ;  sectile  and  flexible. 
H.-1-5  to  2;  G.-3-4  to  3-6.  Semi- 
transparent;  resinous  to  pearly.  Citron- 
yellow  and  orange-yellow.  Co.:  arsenic  61,  sulphur  39.  Servia, 
Kapnik,  Andreasberg,  Solfatara,  Zi^lapan  in  Mexico. 

207.  DiMOErHiTE,  AsjSs. 

Eight  prismatic.  H.=  1-5;  G. -3-58.    Orange-yellow.    Solfatara. 

208.  Stibnite,  SbaSj. 

Eight  prismatic.  P  polar  edges  109°  26'  and  108°  21';  ooP  90°  64'. 
Crystals  (Sg.  347)  generally  prismatic.  CL 
brachydiagonal,  perfect;  sectile.  H. —2; 
G.  -4-6  to  4-7.  Brilliant  lead-grey,  often 
tarnished.  C.c:  antimony  71 '8,  sulphur 
28 '2.  Uaisley,  Banffshire;  Harehill, 
Ayrshire ;  Glendinning,  Dumfriesshire  ; 
Endellion  and  Padstow,  Cornwall ;  Wolfs- 
berg,  Harz ;  Przibram,  Schemnitz, 
Auvergae,  Spain«  America,  Melbourne. 
Chief  ore  "of  antimony. 

209.  BlSMUTHINE,  BL,33. 

Eight  prismatic    ooP  91°  30'.    Crystals 
prismatic,    striated ;     also    granular  and 
foliated.      CL     brachydiagonal ;     sectile.         p,     „,y  , 
H;-2to2-5;  G.-6-4to6-6.     Lead-grey.  »-     '  ^  ^' 

C.c:  81'2  bismuth,  18'8  sulphur.  Caldbeckfell  (Cumberland), 
Redruth  (Cornwall),  Riddarhyttan  and  Bastnaes  (Sweden),  Alten- 
berg,  Haddam  (Connecticut),  Ballarat  (Victoria),  Bolivia. 

210.  Fbenzelite,  BijSej,  or  2BijSe3-f  Bi^Sj. 

Eight  prismatic  ;  ooP  90°.  Needle  crystals,  and  massive.  CI. 
brachydiagonaL  H. -2-6  to  3;  G. -6-25.  Bluish  grey;  streak 
greyish  black,  shining.  Lustre  metallic.  Malleable.  Co.:  bismuth 
€7-38.  selenium  24'13,  sulphur  66.     Guanajuato  (Mexico). 

SULPHUR  SALTS. 

211.  Guejakite,  Cu2S-l-23bjS_,. 
Right  prismatic     oo'p  101°  9'.     CI.  brachydiagonaL    H 

C.  -5-03.  Steel-green,  with  blui.ih 
streak.  C.c:  copper  15'6,  anti- 
mony 58-5,  sulphur  25.  Gucjar  in 
Sierra  Nevada. 

212.  MiAEOYaiTE,  AgS-HSbSj. 
Oblique    prismatic,    C  81°    36', 

P  90°   63'; -P  69°   69'.      Crystals 

pyramidal,   or  tabular   (fig    3-18); 

massive  ;   sectile      H.  -2  to  2-6  ;  F>g-  S«  (sp-  212). 

G.  -6'2  to  6'3.    Metallic  adamantine.    Blackish  lead-grey  to  steel 


=  3-6; 


frey;  streak  cherry-red,     Qc  :  37  silver,  41  antimony,  22  sulphur. 
reiberg,  Przibram,  Potosi. 

213.  MoROCOCniTE  (Silber-Wismuth  Olaru),  AgS-vBiS,, 
Massive.    Colour  grey;  streak  light  green.    G. -6-92.    C.c:  silver 

28  3,  bismuth  547,  sulphur  17.     Morococha  in  Peru. 

214.  Sartorite,  PbS-hAsjS,. 

Eight  prismatic  Crystals  slender;  ooP  123°  20".  CI.  OP.  H,-S; 
G.-6-39.  C.c:  load  42-68,  arsenic  80'93,  sulphur  26'39.  Binnen- 
thal  in  Switzerland, 

216.   ZiNOKENITE,  PbS-fSbSs. 

Right  prUmatic     ooP   (d)   120°  39';  foo   (o)  150°  36'  (fig.  349). 
Crystals    acicular ;    vertically  striated,    and  twinned 
3    or  6.     Sectile.      H. -3  to  35;   G.-5-3  to  5-35. 
Steel-grey  to  lead-grey  ;  with  blue  tarnish.    C.c:  lead 
35-9,  antimony  42,  sulphur  22-1.     Wolfsberg. 

216.  Emflectite,  CaS-^BiJS3. 
Eight  prismatic.    Tin- white.     Saxony,  ■Wiirtcmberg, 

and  Copiapo. 

217.  WOLFSBEEGITE,  Cu^S-hSbjSj. 

Right  prismatic  ooP  135°  12';  oof  2  111°.  Crystals  tabular  ; 
also  line  granular.  CI.  brachydiagonal,  perfect ;  fracture  conchoidal 
or  uneven.  H.  —  3  '5;  G.  =  4  '748.  Lead-grey  to  iron-black,  sometimes 
iridescent;  streak  black,  dull.  C.c:  25'4  copper,  49  antimony, 
and  25-6  sulphur,     Wolfsberg. 

218.  Beethierite,  FeS,  SbSj. 

Massive;  columnar  or_ fibrous,  with  indistinct  cleavage.  H. — 
2-3;  G.— 4  to  4-3.  Dark  steel-grey,  reddish.  Tintagel  and  Padstow 
in  Cornwall,  Auvergne  and  Anglers  (Creuse)  in  France,  Braunsdorf  io 
Saxony.     In  France  used  as  an  ore  of  antimony. 

219.  Plagionite,  Pb^Sbj. 

Oblique  prismatic,  C  72°  28'.  P  134°  30'  and  142°  3';  -2P 
120°  49  .  Crystals  thick,  tabu_- 
lar  (fig.  350),  minute,  and  in 
druses.  CL -2P, perfect;  brittle. 
H.  =  2  -5  ;  G.  -  5  -4.  Blackish 
lead-grey.  C.c:  41  lead,  38 
antimony,  and  21  sulphur. 
Wolfsberg. 

220.  Klapeothite,      SCu^S 
•t-  2BL,S3 . 

Eight  prismatic;  long  striated 
crystals;  coP-107°.  Wittichen, 

Bulach.     SchiTmerUe,  from  Colorado,  3(AgjPb)S  +  2Bi2S»  with  O. 
•=6-74,  is  similar. 

221.  BiNNiTE,  3CuS-l-2As,S3. 

Cubic.  Typical  forms  ooO,  202 ;  0,  00600 ,  605 ;  404,  lOOlO 
303.     H. -4-5 ;  G.  =4"48.     Metallic.     Black.     Binnen. 

222.  JamesonUe,  3PbS  H- 2Sb2S3 . 

Eight  prismatic;  ooP  101°  20'.  Crystals  00 P,  ooPoo,  long- 
prismatic,  parallel  or  radiating.  CI.  basal  perfect,  ooP  and  brachy- 
diagonal imperfect;  sectile.  H.  -2  to  2-5  ;  G.  -6-5  to  5-7.  Steel- 
grey  to  dark  le^dgrey.  B.B  decrepitates,  fuses  easily,  and  wholly 
volatilizes  except  a  small  slag.  Sot  in  warm  n.  acid.  C.c:  44-6 
lead,  with  2  to  4  iron,  34-9  antimony,  and  20'6  sulphur.  Cornwall, 
Estremadura,  Hungary,  Siberia,  and  Brazil. 

223.  DCTFRENOrsITE,  2PbS-hASjS3. 

Right  prismatic.  coP  93°  89'.  Generally  in  thick  rectongnlar 
tables.   H. -3;  G. -5-66.  Lead-grey.  Brittle.  Binnen,  St  Gotthard. 

224.  Feieslebenite,  5(Pb,  Ag,)S -f  2SbjS3 . 
Oblique  prismatic,  C  87°  48'.    ooP  119°  12' ;  P° 

in  prisms  with  curved  reed-like  faces,  and 
strong  vertical  striae.  Twins  intersecting ; 
also  massive.  CI.  ooP,  perfect;  fracture  con- 
choidal or  uneven  ;  rather  brittle.  H.  ■=  2  to 
2-5  ;  G.  -  6-2  to  6-4.  Steel-grey  to  dark  lead- 
grey.  C.c:  22-5  silver,  32-4  lead,  26-8  anti- 
mony, and  18-3  sulphur.  Freiberg  (Saxony),  t 
Hiendclacncina  (Spain). 

225.  Pyeaegyrite,  3Ag,S-fSbjSj 
Hexagonal  rhombohedral ;  R  (/")  108°  42'; 

-JR137°68';   OR;    -2R(r);R3;   ooP2{s); 

and  03R  (;).      Crystals  prismatic  (fig.   352); 

twins  common,  of  various  kinds;  also  massive, 

dendritic,  or  investing.     CI.  R,  rather  perfect; 

fracture  conchoidal  to  uneven  and  splintery;      ''8-  3al  (sp.  A.4). 

sectile.     H.  -2  to  26.     Crimson-red  to  blackish  lead-pey  ;  streak 

cochineal   to   cherry-red.      Huel    Brothers  and   Hnef  Duchy    io 

Cornwall,  Andreasberg,  Freiberg,  Johaun-Geoi^nstadt,  Annaberg, 


Fig.  360  (sp.  219). 


31°  41' (fig.  351) 


MINERALOGY 


395 


Bchneeberg,    Marienbsrg,   Prnbram,    Scliemnitz    and    Enmnitz, 
Kongsberg,  Mexico,  Nevada,  &c;. 

226.  PEOUCTrrE,  8Ag^+Aa,S,. 

Bhombohcdra!,  like  pjTirgyrit!?,  except  R  107°  £0'  (flg.  858). 
0.-S'6  to  £-S.  tloni- 
tnuisptrtut  to  trans- 
laoect  oa  the  edges. 
Cochir.sal  to  crimson-red. 
C.c:  65-5  silver,  16"1 
arsenic,  and  19 '4  snlphnr. 
Streak  aurora-red.  B.B. 
araccisal.  odour,  and 
difiicultly  reduced  to 
metallic  eilver.  At  the 
same  localities  as  pyrar- 
gyrite;  both  are  valu- 
able ores  of  silver.  Red 
orpiment  has  a  lower 
specific  gravity,  and 
yeUow  streak;   cinnabar 

volatilizes     before     the    -,.     „,„ ,      „,.        „. 
blowpipe.  ^*-  ^^^  '^-  ^^*-       ^'8-  353  (sp.  226). 

227.  BOOLAKOEEITE,  8PbS-^SbS,. 

Fine  granular,  columnar,  radiating,  or  fibrous ;  slightly  seclile. 
H.  =3  ;  G.  — 6"8  to  6.  Silky,  metallic  Blackish  lead-groy,  with 
darker  streak.  B.  B.  like  jamesonite.  C.  c. :  59  lead,  22  8  antimony, 
a:id  18  ■  2  sulphur.  Moliires  in  France,  Oberlahr  (Rhenish 
Prussia),  Lapland,  and  Siberia.  Plumbostib  or  EmbrethiU,  fcora 
Kertchuisk,  is  only  a  variety. 

223.  KoBELLiTB,  3PbS,  BijSj-hSPbS,  Sb,S,. 

Radiated  columnar ;  soft  G.  -  6  "2  to  6  S.  C.  c. :  63  lead,  20  bis- 
muth, 10  antimony,  and  17  solphur.     Hvena  in  Nerike  (Sweden). 

229.  "WimcBisiTZ  {Cuprams  Sismuih),  SCuS  +  BijSj. 

Right  nrismatic ;  in  tabular  crystals  like  boumonite.  'Witticheo 
in  the  Black  Forest. 

230.  BoraNONiTE  (3CuS-hSbjSj)4-2(3PbS+Sb,S,). 

Bight  prismatic  ooP  (<i)  93°  40';  ?oo(b)  96°  13';  P«j(0  92°  34'; 
DP  (r);  oo?oo(j);  oofoo(i)  (6g.  354).  (3.  brachydiagonal,  im- 
perfoct ;  fracture  uneven  to  conchoidal; 
rather  brittle.  H. -25  to  3;  G.  =  67 
to  5 '9.  Lustre  brilliant  metallic.  Steel- 
grey.  C.c.  :  424  lead,  13  copper,  25 
antimony,  and  19*6  sulphur.  Redruth 
and  Beeralaton ;  Harz  (Neudorf),  Branns- 
dorf,  Eapnik,  Servoz;  Alais  and  Pontgi- 
bond  in  France. 

Wolchitt  from  Wolch  in  Carinthia  is 
only  a  variety. 

231.  AiKiNiTE     {Needle-ore),     2(3PbS 
J- BijS,) -H  3(CuS -^  BijSa). 

Right   prismatic ;    long  thin    crystals 
imbedded  in  quartz,  often  bent  or  broken;  * 

rather  brittle.     H.  -  2  '5  ;  G.  =  6  7  to  6  -8.         Fig-  S»4  (sp.  230). 
Blackish  lead-grey  or  steel-grey,  with  a  brownish  tarnish.    C.c. : 
36  lead,  11  copper,  36  bismuth,  and  17  sulphur.     Berezoff  (Siberia), 
Georgia. 

232.  Sttlotyt,  S(CuAgFe)S-HSbjS3. 

Right  prismatic  OP  92°  80'.  H.-=3;6.-4-8.  Black.  CoDiaTJO, 
Chili. 

233.  AmnviTE,  4CuS-l-(AsjS3,  SbjSj,  BijSJ. 

Massive,  similar  to  the  foregoing.  From  Anniver  in  Valais. 
SlvderiU  is  similar,  but  with  15"5  of  antimony. 

234.  JoLiANiTE,  3Cu2S-^AsJS,. 

Cubic  .  G.-6-12.  Metallic.  Reddish  grey.  Eudelstadt  in 
Silesia. 

235.  Mbneohinite,  4PbS  +  Sb,S3. 

Oblique  prismatic,  C  72°  8'.  ooP  140°  24';  P°oo  70°.  Crystals 
small,  acicular,  chiefly  of  ojP*  co  ,  ooP°oo ,  ooP ;  rare ;  mostly 
fibrous,  H.  -3:  G.  =6'4.  Bottino  in  Tuscany,  Schwarzenberg  in 
Saxony. 

238.  JOEDANITE,  4PbS-^AsA• 

Right  prismatic ;  ooP  123°  29'.  .  CI.  brachydiagonal,  perfect. 
Streak  black.  G.-6-88.  C.c:  lead  68-9,  arsenic  12-5,  sulphur 
I8'6.     Binuen  and  Kagyag. 

237.  Teteahedbite  (FoAferz),  4Cu,S -f  SbjS, . 


■^.»0, 


202 


Tesseral  and  tetrahedral.    In  crystals  - 

355  to  358,  also  65,  66,  206).     Twins  (iigs.  164,  207);  generally 
maf^ve.     CL  octahedral ;  fracture  conchoidal ;  brittle.    }£  ->3-44 ; 


G.-4-6  to  6-2.  St«5l-grey  to  iron-black;  streak  black  (dark  red 
when  containing  zinc).  B.  B.  on  charcoal  boils  slightly,  and  fuses 
to  a  steel-grey  slag,  usually  magnetic,  and  with  soda  gives  copper. 
C.a  aaBontially  Cn^  in  combination  witli  Sb^j.    AirUirey  near 


Fig.  358. 


Fig.  3S7. 

Stirling,  Sandlodge  in  Shetland,  Tomnadashin  on  Loch  Tay,  Kirk- 
cudbright; Crinnis  and  other  Cornish  mines  near  St  Austell;  Hai-z, 
Miisen,  Freiberg,  Camsdorf,  Alsace,  Kremnitz,  and  Kapnik.  Those 
with  17  to  31  silver  are  the  Silver  Fahlare  (Freiberg).  Ore  of 
copper  and  silver. 

238.  TENKANriTE,  (CuS,  FeS)  AsjSj. 

Cubic  (like  fig.  237).  CL  ooO.  Brittle.  H.  =  4;  G.  ~  4  -3  to  4  5. 
Iron-black ;  streak  dark  red,  grey.  C.c.  :  49  copper,  4  iron,  19 
arsenic,  and  28  sulphur.  Redruth  and  St  Day  (Cornwall),  and 
Skutterud.  Copper-blende,  with  brownish  red  streak;  G.  =  4  -3;  con- 
tains 8 '9  zinc  ;  Freiberg. 

239.  VoTSYTELUTE  (Weissgiltigen),  4RS-^SbJS3. 

Like  tetrahedrita.  H.-2-5;G.  =  5-4to57.  C.c:  silver  6  to  22, 
lead  38  to  52,  antimony  85  to  22,  sulphur  13  to  225.     Freiberg. 

240.  Stbphamite,  SAgjS-fSbjSj. 

Right  prismatic  ooP  (o)  115°  39';  P  (P)  middle  edge  104°  20"; 
2foo(i)  middle  edge  107°  48';  OP  (s);  a>i<B(jo)  (figs.  333,  334). 
a.  d  and  p,  both  imperfect ;  fracture  conchoidal  or  uneven  ;  sectile. 
H.  —  2  to  2-5  ;  G.  —  6'2  to  6-3.  Iron-black  to  blackish  lead-grey. 
C.c.  :  68'5  silver,  15'3  antimony,  and  16'2  sulphur.  Cornvrall, 
Freiberg,  Schneeberg,  Annabcrg,  Joachiinsthal,  Przibram,  Schem* 
nitz,  Mexico,  Peru,  and  Sijjeria.     Valuable  ore  of  silver. 

241.  Geocronite,  5PbS-l-(Sb,  As)5S3. 

Right  prismatic.  Fracture  conchoidal ;  sectUe.  H.=-2toS;G.  - 
6'45to6'54.  Pale  lead-grey.  C.  c  :  67  lead,  with  1  to  2  copper  and 
iron,  16  antimony,  with  47  arsenic,  and  17  sulphur.  Sala  in 
Sweden,  Meredo  (Oviedo)  in  Spain,  and  near  Pietrosanto  in  Tuscany. 

242.  KiLBRifczENiTE,  6PbS-^Sb~SJ. 

Massive  ;  granular  or  foliated.  C.  c  :  70  -01  lead,  1376  antimony, 
and  16'23  sulphur.     County  Clare  in  Ireland. 

243.  PoLTE.vsiTE,  9(Ag2,  Cn,)S-KSh,  As}iS3. 

Hexagonal ;  P  117°.  Crystals  OP,  coP  ;  and  OP,  P,  tabular. 
CI.  basal,  imperfect ;  sectile,  and  easily  fraacible.  H.  — 2  to  2'5; 
G. -6  to  6-25.  Iron-black,  in  very  "thin  lamellae,  translucent, 
red.  C.c  :  64  to  72  silver,  3  to  10  copper,  IC  to  17  sulphur,  02  to 
8  antimony,  and  1  to  6  arsenic.  Freiberg,-  Joachimstlial,  Schem- 
nitz,  Guanajuato,  Nevada,  and  Idaho.     Rich  oie  of  silver. 

244.  POLTARGTEITE,  12AgS -^  Sb.Sj . 

Cubic.  Typical  form  0,ooO«>,<»0,mOm.  Cl.cubic  H.=2-5; 
G.  =  6-97.  Metallic,  iron-black ;  streak  black.  Malleable.  C.c: 
782  silver,  7-4  antimony,  14-5  snlphur.     Wolfach  in  Baden. 

245.  Enahgite,  3CUjS-f  AsjSs. 

Right  prismatic.  CL  ooP  97°  53'  perfect,  brachvdiagonal  100°  68' 
and  jnacrodiagonal  less  so.  Typical  form  eoP,  OP,  C«Poo,  ooPto, 
Brittle.  H. -3;  G. -4-3  to  4-5.  Iron-black.  C.c  :  483  copper, 
19*1  arsenic,  aud  32-6  sulphnr,    Uorococha  in  Peru. 


.396 


MINERALOGY 


246.  Olabite,  3CuS  +  AaS. 

Obliijoo  prismatic.  CI.  clinodiajonnl.  Ordinary  form  oo  >, 
*eP'«>,  OP,  mP.  II.— 0!>;  C— 4'4d.  Uark  bliiiah  grey.  Kinzig- 
thal  in  Baden.     Luzor.ite  ia  Bimilar. 

,247.  Famatinite,  SCuS  +  SbS. 

Right  prismatic.  Typical  form  OP,  ooP,  <x.Poo,  »p3.  Massive  or 
reni/orm.  H. -3-5  ;  0. -4-67.  Copper-red  to  grey  ;  streak  black. 
Famatina  Mts.  in  the  Argentine  Republic,  and  Cerro  de  Pasco  in 
Pern. 

248.  CniTiATiTE,  aPbS  +  SBijS,. 

Foliated,  massive,  0.-6-9.  Metallic.  Lead-grey.  Chiviato  in 
fern. 

249.  Epioenitb,  eRS-hAsjSj. 

Right  prismatic.  ooP  110°  Btf.  Steel-grey.  H.-3-6.  Witti- 
Chen. 

260.  Epiboulanoerite,  SPbS-FSbjSj. 

Right  prismatic.  G.  -  6 '  3.  Metallic.  Blue-black,  Altenburg 
in  Silesia. 

251.  Xantbocon,  2(3AgS-HA8jS3)  +  (3AgS-(-As2S5). 

Hexagonal  rhombohedral.  R  :  OR  110°  30".  Crystals  thin  hex- 
agonal tables;  brittle,  easily  frangible.  H. -2  to  2-5;  G. -5  to 
5 '2.  Translucent;  adamantine.  Orange-yellow  or  brown;  streak 
darker.  In  the  closed  tube  fuses  easily,  becomes  lead-grey.  C.c. : 
63'*  silver,  14 '7  arsenic,  and  21 '9  sulphur.  Himmelsfiirst  mine  at 
Freiberg. 

252.  Ptbostilpnite  (Fire-blende). 

Oblique  prismatic  ;  crystals  like  stilbite.  OP  139°  12'.  Twins  on 
orthodiagonal.  H  =  2  ;  G.  =  4  -2.  Lustre  pearly,  and  adamantine. 
Colour  hyacinth-red  and  bright-yellow.  Sectilo.  C.c. :  62-3  silver, 
with  sulphur  and  antimony.     Freiberg,  Andrea^berg,  Fr%ibram. 

OXYSULPHURET& 

253.  Kekmesite,  Sb03  +  2SbS3. 

Oblique  prismatic  ;  crystals  ooPoo ,  OP,  acicular  and  diverging; 
sectile.  H.  -  1  to  1  -5  ;  G.  =  4  -5  to  4-6.  Translucent ;  adamantine. 
Cherry-red  ;  streak  similar.  Sol.  in  h.  acid.  In  potash  solution 
becomes  yellow,  and  dissolves.  C.c:  76'3  antimony,  19'8  sulphur, 
4-9  oxygen.  Braunsdorf,  Przibram,  Pernek  near  Bbsing  (Hungary), 
Allemont,  Southham  (Canada). 

254.  ToLTZiJffi,  ZnO-t-4ZnS. 

Incnisting.  H. -•4-5;  G.  =-3  7.  Yellow.  Pontgibaud  and 
Joachims  thai. 

255.  KAKELnoTE,  3BiO  +  BiS. 

H.  — 2;  G. —e'S.    Metallic.   Lead-grey.   Zavodinaki in  the  AltaL 
156.  BoLIviTE,  BijOj  +  BLjSj. 
Shombohedial.     From  Bolivia, 

SELENITES. 

357.  Chaloomenite,  CuSe  +  2flj[=CuO,  SeOj-f2HjO]. 

Oblique  prismatic,  C  lOS"  20'.  6.-3^6.  Bright  blue.  Trans- 
•parent  Co.:  selenious  acid  48-2,  copper  oxide  35'4,  water  15-3. 
Ccno  de  Cacheuta  (Mendoza,  Argentina  Republic). 

NITRATES  AND  BORATES. 

258.  NiTKATiNE,  SajKj-NajO,  NjOj]. 

Rhombohedral ;  R.  106°  30'.  Tarai^ca  in  Peru.  Used  in  the 
arts  as  a  substitute  tor  nitre ;  but  deliquesces  in  moist  air. 

259.  Nitre  (SaZijKtre),   KjKj:-K„0,  NAl- 

Right  prismatic.  'SjP  (^  118°  49';  2poo  (P)  70°  65';  P«o  309°  62'; 
ooPoo(A)  (fig.  276);  isomorphous  with  aragonite.  Acicular, 
capillary,  or  pulverulent.  CI.  indistinct;  fracture  conchoidal.  II.  - 
2  ;  G.  =  1  -9  to  2.  Semitranspireut ;  vitreous  or  silky.  Colour- 
less, white,  or  grey.  Taste  saline  and  cooling.  Deflagrates 
when  placed  on  hot  charcoal  ;  .and  B.B.  on  platiua  wire  melts  very 
easily,  colouring  the  flame  violet.  C.  c. :  46  -6  pot.vsh  and  63  i  nitric 
acid,  but  always  more  or  less  impure.  In  tlio  limestone  caves  of 
many  countries;  Hungary,  Spain,  India.  Used  for  producing  nitric 
acid,  in  glass  making,  medicine,  and  the  manufacture  of  gunpowder, 

260.  NiTROOALCITE,   CaiS'j-Hllj. 

Fil'rous  or  pulverulent.  ^V^lito  or  grey.  C.c:  30-8  lime,  69-3 
nitric  acid,  and  9-9  water.  Limestone  caves  of  Kentucky  ;  on  old 
walls  and  limestone  rocks. 

261.  NiTROMAONESITB,   Mg>I\-|-lI;. 

Taste  bitter.     luHic  same  places,  and  similar  to  iiitrocalcite. 


262.  BoEACiTE,  2MgjBj  +  MgCl. 

Tesseral  and  hemihedral  (figs.  63,  253,  359).    CL  octahedral,  im. 

Serfect ;  fracture  conchoidal  ;  brittle. 
[.-7;  G. -2-9  to  3.  Transparent  or 
translucent  ;  vitreous  or  adamantine. 
Colourless  or  while,  often  greyish,  yellow- 
ish, or  greenish.  Becomes  polar  electric  by 
heat.  B.B.  fuses  with  diiculty  to  a  clear 
yellowish  bead,  which  on  cooling  forms  a 
white  opaque  mass  of  needle-like  crystals  ; 
at  the  same  time  colours  the  flame  green. 
Sol.  in  h.  acid.  C.c.  :  62 '6  boracic  acid, 
269  magnesia,  7'9  chlorine,  and  27  mag- 
nesium. Liineberg,  Segeberg  in  Holstein,  Fig.  359. 
Stassfurt. 

263.  Stassfjtrtite. 

In  very  minute  prismatic  crystals.     "Wliite.     C.c.  same  as  bora- 
cite,  and  thus  perhaps  dimorphous.     Stassfurt. 

264.  Khodizite,  2(ia,'B,  (?). 

H.  —  8   and  G.  =3'3  to   3 '42;   agrees   in   most  characters  with 
boracite.     Pyro-electric.    Mursinsk  in  Siberia. 

255.   LUBWIGITE,  21rIg'fii-HFe!Fe2. 

Fibrous  masses.     From  limestone  at  Morawitza  in  the  Banat. 

266.  BoKAX(7'intaZ),  S'a„2B  +  10ft,. 

Oblique  prismatic,  C  73°  25'.  ooP  87° ;  P  122°  34'  (fig.  360). 
Almost  isomorphous  with  augite;  brittle.  H.  =2 
to2-5;G.-17tol-8.  Pellucid;  rerinous.  Colour- 
less, or  yellowish,  greenish,  and  greyish  white. 
Taste  feebly  alkaline  and  sweetish.  C.c:  16'4 
soda,  36 '5  boracic  acid,  and  47 '1  water  ;  but  often 
with  2  phosphoric  acid  or  other  impurities.  Shores 
of  salt  lakes  in  Tibet  and  Nepal,  in  California, 
and  near  Potosi. 

267.  Borocalcite,  (;a2B -H  6ft. , 
Similar  to  ulexite  (sp.  268) ;   and  from  same  ^ 

locality. 

268.  Ulexite,  l>fa52'B-(-2Ca2B  +  18Hj. 

Fibrous.   H.  =1 ;  G.  —  1  -e.   AVhite.   Tasteless.    Iquique  and  Nov;i 
Scotia. 

"^69.  SzAIBELTITE,  2Mg52'B  +  3H3. 

H.  -3-5  ;  G.  -27.     WerksthSl  in  Hungary. 

270.  Htdroboracite,  2(5a3B3-l-2]ifg3l53-Hl2llj. 

Radiating  and  foliated.     Caucasus.    A  similar  mineral,  with  soda 
ia  place  of  magnesia,  is  found  in  Peru. 

271.  Scssexite,   (Mn,  Mg).B  +  Hj. 

Fibrous,  silky.     White     H.  =  3;G.  =  3-4.      Franklin   (Sussex 
county.  New  Jersey). 

ANHYDROUS  CARBONATES. 

272.  Caloite  (Calc-spar,  Calcareoiis  Spar),  (5aC. 
Hexagonal  and  rhombohedral ;  R  105°  5'  (fig.  101).     The  forms 

and  combinations  exceed  those  of  any  other  mineral.  Among  them 
are  more  than  fifty  rhombohedrons,  especially  -  ^R  135°  ;  R  ;  -  2R 
79° ;  and  4R  66° ;  with  OR  and  ooK  as  limiting  forms.  There  aro 
one  hundred  and  fifty-five  distinct  scalenoliedrous,  as  R3  ;  R2  ; 
|K3  ;  and  the  second  hexagonal  prism  ooPS.  Hexagonal  pyramids 
are  among  the  rarer  forms.  Some  of  the  most  usual  combinations  are 
ooR, -iU(c,  ff,  fig.  179);  or  -JR,  aR,  very  frequout ;  also  ooR, 
OR  ;  likewise -2R,  R  if,  P,  fig.  107) ;  K3,  t»E,  -  2R  ;  R5  (y),  R3 
(r),  R  (P),  4R  (m),  ooR  (c)  (fig.  109);  R,  R3  (fig.  108).  Several 
'  undrcd  distinct  combinations  aro  known. 

Hemitropes    and    twins    aro    not     uncommon.      These    occnr 
with  the  axes  parallel  (figs.  106,  146,  148,  180,  366,  367).     Othen 


Fig.  360(sp.  266X 


Fig.  361.  Fig.  362.  Fig.  363.  Fig.  364. 

are  conjoined  bv  a  face  of  R,  the  axes  being  .ilmost  at  right  angles, 
89°  8'  (figs.  183,  369)  or  by  a  face  of  -  4R,  in  which  the  chief 
axes  form  an  angle  of  127^°;  and  usually  many  times  repeated, 
so  that  the  centre  crystals  appoar  in  lamclhc  not  thicker  than 
paper  (fig.  161) ;  at  an  obtuse  angle,  as  figs.  149,  363,  or  an  acute 


MINERALOGY 


397 


angle,  as  fi^  S64,  368.     Also  occurs  grairalar,  lamellar,  parallel 

or  radiated  fibrons,  compact  and  earthy.     CL  rhombohedral  along 

R,   Tery  pcrfoct    and   easily    obtained,    so    that    the  conchoidal 

fracture  Li  rarely  observable;  brittle.     H.  -3  ;  G.  -2-6  to  2'8  ;  pure 

truupaient  crystals  — 272.      Pelluoid    iu  all 

degrees.      Very    distinct     double    refraction. 

Lnstre  yitreous,  but  several  faces 'rerinous,  and 

OR  pearly.      Most    frequently    colourless   pr 

white,    but  often   grey,    blue,  green,  yellow, 

red,  brown,  or  black  ;    streak  greyish  white. 

B.  B.  infusible,  but  becomes  caustic  and  emits 

a  bright   light.'     Effervesces,  and  ia   entirely 

8cL  in  h.  or  n.  acid.     The  fine  powder,  ignited  ,j., 

on   platina-foil  over  the  spirit-lamp,  forma  a  ^*  ^^ 

somewhat  connected  mass,  and  even  adheres  to  the  platina,     Co. 

of  the  purest  varieties,  carbonate  of  lime,  with  41  carbonic  acid  and 

66  lime,  but  usually  contains  magnesia  and  protoxide  of  iron  or 

of  manganese.     Remarkable  specimens  of  the  crystallised  variety 

or  proper  calc-spar  are  found  at  Alston 

Uoor    in     Cumberland    (Sat     rhombic 

crystals)  and  iu  Derbyshire  (pale  yellow 


Kit-  36a  Fig.  367. 

transparent  pyramids),  at  Strontian,  Elie  in  Fife  (figs.  370,  871, 
372),  Andreasberg  and  other  parts  «f  the  Harz  (six-sided  prisms), 
and  at  Freiberg,  Tharand,  and  Haxen  iu  Saxony. 
Certain  vanetiea  are  distinguished.     Iceland  Spar,  remarkable 
lor  its  transparency  and  double  re- 
fraction, occurs  massive  and  in  huge 
crystals  in  a  trap  rock  in  Iceland. 
Slatt    Spar,    thin    lamellar,    often 
..with  a  shining  white  pearly  lustre 
and  greasy  feel;  Abergaim  and  Glen 


I  c  i<^  e     I 


Fig.  368.         "  ?ig.  369. 

Tilt  In  Scotland,  Wicklow  in  Ireland,  and  Norway.  AphrUe,  fine 
scaly ;  from  Hesse  and  Thuringia.  Marble  is  tne  massive  crys- 
talline variety  of  this  mineral,  produced  by  igneous  action  on  com- 
pact limestone.  Faros,  Naxos,  and 
Tenedos  furnished  the  chief  supply  to 
the  Grecian  artists ;  Carrara,  near  the 
Gulf  of  Genoa,  to  those  of  modem 
times.     Some  of  the  coloured  marbles 


Fig.  S7a  Fig.  371. 

«i  the  ancients  were  impure  Umestonu,  as  the  CipoUino,  zoned 
with  green  talc  or  chlorite  and  Verde  Arttique,  mixed  with  green 


Fig.  372. 


serpentine.  Ruin  Marble  shows  irregnlar  markings  like  rvina; 
Val  d'Amo  (Florentine  marble),  and  Bristol  (Qjtham  marble) 
LueulliU  from  Egypt,  and  ArUhraamite,  from  Campbelltown  and 
Kilkenny,  are  black  from  carbon.  L-umachdlo,  from  Bleibcrg  in 
Carinthia,  exhibits  beautiful  iridescent  colours  {rom  fossil  shells, 
sometimes  deep  red  or  orange  (Fire  Marble).  Bislopite,  £rom 
Poonah,  is  green,  from  celadonite. 

Limestone  occurs  in  all  formations  under  various  names,  as  OoltU, 
e^-stone,  or  roe-stone, — round  concretioiiawithaconccntricstructur* 
like  the  roe  of  a  fish  ;  Pisolite,  or  peastone, 
siicilar  structure ;  CTialk,  '  soft  earthy  ; 
Lithographic  Stone,  yellowish  and  compact, 
from  Solenhofen ;  and  Marl,  calcareous 
matter  more  or  less  mixed  with  clay. 
Calcareous  Tufa,  generally  a  recent  deposit 
from  calcareous  springs,  has  often  a  loose 
friable  texture,  but  at  other  times  is  hard 
and  compact;  and  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
Rome  forms  the  common  Duilding  stone 
Travertine.  The  sandstone  of  Fontaine- 
bleau  is  carbonate  of  lime  (i)  mixed  with 
quartz  sand  (|),  and  occasionally  crystal- 
lizing iu  thombohedrons. 

TUs  mineral  is  employed  in  many 
ways! — the  coarser  varieties,  when  burnt 
to  drive  off  the  carbonic  acid,  as  lime,  for 
mortar,  manure,  tanning ;  as  a  flux  in 
melting  iron  and  other  ores,  or  in  pre- 
paring glass,  and  for  similar  purposes ;  the 
finer,  as  marbles,  for  sculpture,  architec- 
ture, and  ornamental  stone-work ;  the  chalk  for  writing,  white- 
washing,  or  producing  carbonic  acid. 

Flumiocalcile. — CI.  104°  63'.  White  and  pearly  ;  softer  than 
calc-spar ;  but  G.  —  2'824.  Contains  2 '3  to  7  "8  carbonate  of  lead. 
Wanlockbead  and  Leadhills  (Scotland). 

273.  Dolomite  {Bitter-spar),  CaO-l-Mgd. 

Hexagonal  rhombohedral ;  R  106°  15'-20' ;  most  frequent  form 
R.  The  rhombohedrons  often  curved  and  saddle-shaped  ;  also 
granular  or  compact,  often  cellular  and  porous.  CL  rhombohedral. 
fl. -3-5  to  4'5;  G. -2-85  to  2  95.  Translucent;  vitreous,  but 
often  pearly.  Colourless  or  white,  but  frequently  pale  red,  yellow, 
or  green.  B.B.  infusible,  but  becomes  caustic,  and  often  showa 
traces  of  iron  and  manganese.  Fragments  effervesce  very  slightly 
or  not  at  all  in  hydrochloric  acid  ;  the  powder  is  partially  soluble, 
or  wholly  when  heated.  C.c:  64 '3  carbonate  of  lime  and  46  T 
carbonate  of  magnesia,  but  generally  carbonate  of  lime  with  more 
than  20  per  cent  carbonate  of  magnesia  and  less  than  20  per  cent, 
carbonate  of  iron. 

Varieties  are — Dolomite,  massive-granular,  easily  divisible,  white; 
Rhomi  or  Bitter-epar,  larger  grained,  or  distinctly  crystellized  and 
cleavable,  often  inclining  to  green  ;  and  Brovm-spar  and  Pearl-spar, 
in  simple  crystals  generally  curved  (fig.  231),  or  iu  imitetive  forms, 
of  colours  inclining  to  red  or  brown,  more  distinct  pearly  lustre,  and 
under  10  per  cent,  carbonate  of  iron.  Leadhills  and  Charlestown 
in  Scotland,  Alston  in  Cumberland,  in  Derbyshire,  Traversella  in 
Piedmont,  St  Qotthard,  Gap  in  France.  Greenish,  twinned  ;  Miemo 
in  Tuscany  (Miemiie),  and  Tharand  in  Saxony  (Tharandiie). 

The  massive  and  compact  varieties  are  very  common,  and  are 
valued  as  building  stones  (cathedral  of  Milan,  York  Minster,  and  the- 
Houses  of  Parliament  at  Westminster).  The  Parian  marble,  and 
also  the  Sutherland  and  lona  marbles,  belong  to  this  species. 

274.  AifKEEiTE,  CaC■^(S^gfe)0. 

R  106°  12".  Usually  massive  and  grannlar.  Q. -2-9to$'l. 
Otherwise  like  siderite.     Unst  (Shetland),  Styria. 

276.  Maonzsite,  Mg(3. 

Rhombohedral ;  107*  lO'-SC.  Reniform  or  massive,  H. -36;. 
G.  —  2'86  to  2 '95.  Subtranslncent  or  opaqne  ;  streak  shining. 
Snow-white,  greyish  or  yellowish  white,  and  pale  yellow.  Tyrol, 
Norway,  North  America. 

276.  BREOTTNEErrE  (ffwiertife),  Mg6-t-(lilnf'e)C. 
Hexagonal  rhombohedral;  R 107°  10'-30'.    Granular  or  columnar. 

CL  R,  very  perfect  H.-4to4'5;  G.  -2'9to3'l.  Transparent  or 
translucent  on  the  edges  ;  highly  vitreous.  Colourless,  but  often 
yellowish  brown  or  blackish  grey.  C.c.  essentially  carbonate  of 
magnesia,  with  51 '7  carbonic  acid  and  48 '3  magnesia,  but  often 
mixed  with  8  to  17  carbonate  of  iron  or  manganese.  Unat,  Tyrol  (in 
Fassa  Valley,  &c),  St  Gotthard,  Harz. 

277.  Siderite  (Sj>arry  Iron,  Chalybite),  FeC . 

Hexagonal  and  rhombohedral ;  R  107°.  Chiefly  R,  often  curved, 
saddle-shaped  (fig.  232),  or  lenticular.  CL  rhombohedral  along  R, 
perfect;  bnttle.  H.  -3'5  to  4'5  ;  G.  -3'7  to  3'9.  Tranalncent  in 
various  degrees,  becoming  opaque  when  weathered;  vitreous  »r  pearly. 
'R-arely  white,  generally  yellowish  grey  or  yellowish  brown,  changing, 


398 


MINEKALOGY 


to  red  or  blackish  brown  on  exposure.  B.B.  infusible,  bnt  becomes 
black  and  magnetic  ;  with  botai  and  salt  of  phosphoras  shows 
reaction  for  irou  ;  with  soda  often  for  manganese.  In  acids  soluble 
with  effervescence.  C.c.  carbonate  of  iron,  with  62  1  protoiide  of 
iron  and  37  5  carbonic  acid,  but  nsuaUy  0  5  to  30  or  even  25 
piotoiidi.  01  nwnganoso,  0-2  to  15  magnesia,  and  O'l  to  2  lima. 
Unst,  iantyre.  In  beds  or  masses  in  Boeralston  in  Devonshire, 
Alston  Moor  m  Cumberland,  and  in  many  of  the  tin-mines  in 
Cornwall  m  Styna,  Carinthia,  end  WestphaUa  ;  in  veins  in  Anhalt 
andtheHarz;  also  in  the  Pyrenees  and  the  Basque  provinces  of 
^8in,    as  near  Bilboa ;    in   crystals  at  Joachirastha;    Freiberg, 

t  F^^  Irmstpne,  grey,  blue,  brown,  or  black,— G.  -  2  -8  to  3  -5,  H.  - 
S'o  to  4 '5, — is  an  impure  variety. 

278.  DiALOGiTE  {Kcd  Manganese),  MnC. 

Hexagonal  rhombohedral ;  R  106°  56'.  Crystals  often  curved, 
lenticular,  or  saddle-shaped  ;  also  spherical,  reuiform,  and  columnar 
or  granular.  CI.  R,  perlcct.  H.  -  3  '5  to  4  -5 ;  G.  -  3  -3  to  3  -6.  Trans- 
lucent ;  vitreous  or  pearly.  Rose-red  to  flesh-red  ;  streak  white. 
C.c:  62  manganese  protoxide  and  38  carbonic  acid.  Freiberg, 
Schemnitz,  Kapnik,  Kagyag,  Elbingerode,  and  near  Sargans 

279.  COBALTSPATH,  CoCo . 

Rhombohedral  and  spheroidal.  H. -4  ;  G.  =4  to  4-13.  Peach- 
blossom-red  ;  but  dark  externally.     Schneeberg. 

280.  Smithsonite  {Calamine),  ZnC . 

Hexagonal  rhombohedral ;  R  107°  40'.  Usually  renifonn,  stal- 
aotitic,  and  laminar  or  granular.  CI,  R,  perfect,  but  curved;  fracture 
uneven,  conchoidal ;  brittle.  H.  -  6  ;  G.  =4-1  to  4-5.  Translucent 
or  opaque  ;  pearly  or  vitreous.  Colourless,  but  often  pale  greyish 
yellow,  brown,  or  green.  C.c:  64  8  zinc  oxide  and  35-2  carbonic 
acid.  Mendip  in  Somersetshire,  Matlock  in  Derbyshire,  compact  at 
Alston  Moor,  Chessy  near  Lyons,  Altenherg  near  Aix-la-Chapelle, 
Brilon  in  Westphalia,  Tamowitz  in  Silesia,  Hungary,  Siberia. 

281.  Akaoonite,  CaC. 

Eight  prismatic.  ooP116°10' ;  P<d  108°26'.  The  most  common 
combinations  are  a,f<a  (h),  oof  (J/),  Poj  (i,  P)  (fig.  275),  generally 
long  prismatic  (like  the  separate  crystals  in  fig.  184) 
OP,  generally  short  prismatic  ;  crystals  of  6P4,  coP,  f. 
(fig.  373)  acute  pyramidal.  But  simple  crystals  are 
rare,  from  the  great  tendency  to  form  twins,  con- 
joined by  a  face  of  ooP,  and  repeated  either  in 
linear  arrangement  (fig.  185)  or  in  rosette  group- 
ing (fig.  186).  Also  columnar,  fibrous,  and  in 
crusts,  stalactites,  and  other  forms.  CL  brachy- 
diagonal,  distinct ;  fracture  conchoidal  or  uneven. 
H.  =  3-5  to  4  ;  G. -2-9  to  3  (massive  27).  Trans- 
parent or  translucent ;  vitreous.  Colourless,  but 
yellowish  white  to  brick-red ;  also  light  green, 
violet-blue,  or  grey.  In  the  closed  tube,  before 
reaching  a  red  heat,  it  sweUs,  and  falls  down  iuto 
a  white  coarse  powder,  evolving  a  little  water. 
Unst  and  Lcadhills ;  Valencia,  Molina  and  else- 
where in  Aragon  ;  Leogang  in  Salzburg,  and  Anti- 
paros.  Flos-ferri,  coralloid,  in  the  iron-mines  of 
Styria.  Satin-spar,  fine  fibrous  silky,  at  Dufton 
(Westmoreland).  Stalactitic,  coast  of  Galloway, 
Leadhills,  Buckinghamshire,  and  Devonshire.  Also 
deposited  as  tufa  by  the  Carlsbad  and  other  hot 
pprings. 

282.    WiTHERITK,  fiaC. 

Eight  prismatic  ooP  (j)  118°  30';  2?oo(P)  112°.  Crystals 
not  common  like  fig.  275,  but  generally  with  quite  an  hexagonal 
aspect  from  being  twinned  like  aragonite 
(fig.  374).  Of  tenor  spherical  botryoidal,  or 
reniform,with  radiated-columnar  structure. 
CI.  00 P,  distinct ;  fracture  uneven.  H.  —  3 
to  8"5  ;  G.  —  4'2  to  4'3.  Seraitransparent 
or  translucent ;  vitreous,  or  resinous  on 
the  fracture.  Colourless,  but  generally 
yellowish  or  greyish.  B.B.  fuses  easily 
to  a  transparent  globule,  opaque  when 
cold  ;  on  ciiarcoal  boils,  becomes  caustic 
and  sinks  into  the  support ;  soluble  with 
cfiervescence  in  n.  or  h.  acid.  C.c:  22'3 
carbonic  acid  and  77'7  barj'ta.  Alston 
Moor  and  Hexham  in  Northumberland, 
also  in  Styria,  Salzburg,  Hungary,  Sicily 
Siberia,  and  Chili. 


Fig.  373. 


Fig.  374. 


283.  Alstonite,  feaC-l-dlaO. 

Right  prismatic     ooP  118°  60';  2f  oo  111°  60' ;  usual  combination 
',  2P<o,  ooP,  resembling  an  hexagonal  pyramid  (fig.  375).    CL  ooP 


4  to  4  ;  ■   0. -.^UB  1?  3-r«. 


Fig.  375  (sp.  28-3). 


and  00 Poo,  rather  distinct  H. — 
376.  Translucent ;  weak  resinous. 
Colourless  or  greyish-white.  C.c: 
66  carbonate  of  baryta  and  34 
carbonate  of  lime.  Fallowfield  near 
Hexham,  and  Alston  Moor. 

284.  Steontiakite,  SrC. 

Right  prismatic  o»P  117°  19'; 
?co  108°  12'.  Crystals  (fig.  376) 
and  twins  like  aragonits ;  :dso  broad 
columnar  and- fibrous.  CI.  pris- 
matic  along  ojP  (il).  H. -8-£; 
G. -3-6  to  3-8.  Translucent  or 
transparent ;  vitreous  or  resinons 
on  fracture.  Colourless,  but  often 
light  asparagus-  or  apple-green,  more 
rarely  greyish,  yellowish,  or  brown- 
ish. B;B.  fuses  in  a  strong  heat 
only  on  very  thin  edges,  intumesccs 
in    cauliflower-like    forms,    shines 

brightly,  and  colours  the  flame  red  :  easily  soluble  in  acids,  with 
eS^ervescence.  i:  30  carbonic  acid  and  70  strontia.  but  often 

contamsc--'  (of  lime  (6  to  8). 

Stron  ..   .tvrgyllshire,    Suther- 

land, 1  -ogang  in  Salzburg,  Brauns. 
dorf  in  Saxony,  Hamm  in  West- 
phalia, the  Harz;  at  Schoharie 
(N.Y.)  and  elsewhere  in  United 
States  (Emmonite).  It  is  nsed 
to  produce  red  fire  in  pyrotechnic 
exhibitions.  f  jg.  376. 

285.  Manganocaioite,  (Sin,  Oa,  te)  C . 

Right  prismatic  ;  in  prisms  like  aragonite,  and  bears  the  samo 
relation  to  dialogite  that  aragonite  does  to  calc-spar.  H.  —  4  to  6 ; 
G.  =  3'03.     Red  or  reddish  white.     Titreoua.     Schemnitz. 

286.  Ceeussite  (Lead  Spar),  PbC . 

Right  prismatic;  isomorphous  with  aragonite  and  nitre.  wP 
{M)  117°  14';  P«  108°  16';  2foo  (u)  C9°  20'; 
also  OP;  P  (t);  J-Poo  (s);  cc?oo  {I);  afs  (f) 
(fig  377).  Twins  common  (figs.  158,  169,  378, 
379).  Also  gianular  or  earthy.  CI.  ooP  and 
2Pa: ,  rather  distinct ;  fracture  conchoidal ; 
easily  frangible.  H. -3  to  3-5;  G. -6-4  to 
G'Q.  Transparent  or  translucent ;  adamantine 
or  resinous.  Colourless  and  often  white,  bnt 
also  grey,  yellow,  brown,  black,  rarely  green, 
blue,  or  red  ;  streak  white.  B.  B.  decrepitates 
violently,  but  easily  fused  and  reduced  ; 
soluble  with  effervescence  in  n.  acid.  C.c  . 
83 '5  protoxide  of  lead  and  16 '5  carbonic  acid. 
Very  common.  Leadhills,  Wanlockhead, 
Keswick,  Alston  Moor,  Beeralston  in  Devon- 
shire, St  Minver  in  Cornwall ;    Przibram.  Mies,  and   Bleistadt ; 


Fig.  377." 


Fig.  378.  Fig.  879. 

Tamowitz,  Johann-Georgenstadt,  Zellerfold,  Elaustbal,  and  m&oy 
other  places. 
287.  Babyto-Caloite,  fiaC-fCaO. 


Fig.  880.  Fig.  381. 

Oblique   prismatic,  C  69*  80'.      ,ooP  (m)  84*  62",  P  (»)  108*  64', 


MINERALOGY 


399 


Fig.  882  (sp.  289). 
22  Boda,  16  carbonic 


^ 


Fig.  383. 


F°oo  (1)61*  (figs.  880,  881);  also  colamnar  and  granular.  C^  P 
perfect,  P"")  leas  perfect.  H. -4;  G. -3-6  to  8-7.  Transparent 
or  translucent ;  vitreous,  inclimng  to  resiaoos.  Yellowish  white. 
Co. :  like  alstonite.     Alston  Moor. 

288.  BiSMUTO-SPBUSBITE,  BijO  . 

Small  fibrous  brown  concretions  from  Keustadtel,  near  Schnee- 
beig. 

HYDROUS  CARBONATES. 

289.  Tesbuonatbite,  ifci,G  +  ^. 

Eight  prismatic.  o.p2  (d)  107°  50';  f oo  (o)  83*  60";  with  a,fa> 
(F)  in  rectangular  tables  (fig.  382).  CI. 
brachydiagonal, perfect.  H.  =  1'5;G.  —  IS 
to  1*6.  Colourless.  D.  B.  like  natron, 
but  does  not  melt.  C.c. :  SO  °1  soda,  86 '4 
carbonic  acid,  and  11 'S  water.  Natron 
lakes  of  Lagunilla  in  Venezuelp,  of  Lower 
Egypt,  and  of  the  steppes  between  Urals 
and  Alt&i. 

290.  Natbon,  ifa^C  +  lOfl,. 
Oblique  prismatic,  C  57°  40'.      Crystals" 

artificial ;   with  ooP  79°  41' ;  P  76*  28'. 

CL  orthodiagonal,  distinct.     H.  »ltol'6; 

O.  —  1  4     to    1  '6.       Pellucid  ;     vitreous. 

Colourless  or  greyish  white.     B.B.  melts 

easily,  colouring  the  Same  yellow.     C.c 

acid,  and  63  water  ;  but  mized  with  chloride  of  sodium  and  oth^ 

salts.      Only  as  an  efflorescence  on  the  ground  or  rocks  (lava  of 

VesuTJus  and  Etna)  in  various  countries  (Hungary,  Egypt,  Tartary), 

and  in  mineral  springs  and  lakes.     Used  in  the  manufacture  of 

soap,  in  dyeing,  and  in  bleaching. 

291.  Teona,  Ubao,  NajCj+lSj. 

Oblique  prismatic.  Crystals  OP  (T),  ooP«oo  (if),  P  (n).  T:M 
103°  16'  (Bg.  383).  CI.  orthodiagonal,  perfect. 
H.-2-6  to  3;  G. -2-1  to  2  2.  'Transparent  to 
translucent.  Colourless.  Does  not  decompose  is 
the  air.  Taste  alkaline.  C.c. :  38  soda,  40  car- 
bonic acid,  and  22  water.  Fezzan  and  Barbary 
[Trona),  Lagunilla  (CTi-oo). 

292.  Gatlcssite,  iJajO  +  Ca(3  +  Sfi, . 
Oblique  prismatic,   0  78°  27'.     CL  <»P,   imperfect ;    fracture 

oonchoidaL  H.  —  2'6;  G.  — 1'9  to  1'95.  'Transparent;  vitreous. 
Colourless.  C.c. :  34 '6  carbonate  of  soda,  33 '6  carbonate  of  lime, 
30 -4  water,  with  1'6  clay.     Lagunilla. 

293.  HYDKOSIAQNEaiTE,  Mg^C,  +  4Sj  .. 

Oblique  prismatic.  ooP  88°  nearly.  Crystals  small,  rare  ;  also 
massive.  H. -IS  to  3;  G. -214  .to  218.  Vitreous  or  silky. 
VThite.  C.c.  :  36'2  carbonic  acid,  44  magnesia,  and  198  water. 
0nst  (Shetland),  Moravia,  Kumi  in  Negropont,  Hoboken  in  New 
Jersey,  and  Texas  in  Pennsylvania. 

294.  AzDEiTE  {Blue  Copper),  (5u,C,+  ll,. 

Oblique  prismatic,  C  87°  39'.  ooP  {M)  99°  32*;  - P  (if)  106°  14'. 
Crystals  OP,  o.P,  oopooo ,  -  R  (or  A,  M,  s,  ii,  in  fig.  384,  but  in 
another  position) ;  also  radiated  and  earthy.  CI.  clinodomatic  {P) 
69°  14',  rather  perfect ;  frac- 
ture conchoidal  or  splintery. 
H.-S-6to4-2;  0.-37  to  38. 
Translucent  or  opaque ;  vitre- 
ous. Azure-blue,  the  earthy 
varieties  (and  streak)  smalt- 
blue.  B.B.  on  charcoal  fuses 
and  yields  a  grain  of  copper  ; 
Boluble  with  effervesceuce  in 
acids,  and  also  in  ammonia. 
Co.:   69  1  protoxide  of  copper.  Fig.  384. 

25'7  carbonic  acid,  and  6-2  water.     Crestals  at  Redruth,  Alston 
Moor,  Chessy  near  Lyons,  in  Siberia,  Moldawa  in  the  Banat,  Burra- 
Barra  (Australia).     Valued  as  an  ore  of  coppen 
;    295.  Malachite,  Cu^C  +  Hj. 

\  Oblique  prismatic,  C  01°  60'.  ooP  104°  20'.  Crystals  ooP  {M), 
<»P°oo  (j),  OP  (P),  in  hemitropcs  (fig.  385).  In  general  acicular, 
scaly,  or  reniform,  stalaotitic,  end  radiated  fibrous. 
CL  basal  and  clinodiagonal,  very  perfect.  H.  -  3  '5 
to  4  ;  G.  —3 '6  to  4.  Transparent  or  translucent  on 
the  edges ;  adamantine,  vitreous,  silky,  or  dull. 
Emerald  and  other  shades  of  green  ;  streak  apple- 
wen.  B.B.  and  with  acids  like  azurite.  C.c.  : 
71 '8  copper  protoxide  (- 67  S  copper),  20  carbonic 
acid,  and  8  2  water.      Crystalline  at  Rheinbreiten-  — ~ 

bach  on  the  Rhine  and  Zellerfeld  in  the  Harz  ;  fibrous      Fig-  385. 
and  compact  at  Sandlodge  in  Shetland,  LeadhiUs,  Cornwall,  Wales, 
and  Iieland,  at  Cheasy  ia  Fiance,  Siberia,  the  Uisls,  Ssalfeld  m 


Thuringia,  Moldawa  in  the  Banat,  in  North  America,  Africa,  and 
Australia.  Frequently  pseudomorphous  after  copper  and  its  ores, 
also  after  calcite  and  cerussite.  Valuable  ore  of  copper  ;  the  finer 
varieties  are  prized  for  ornamental  pui-poses. 

296.  Htdeozinoite,  ZnC  +  2Znfi, . 

Massive.  Co. :  zinc  oxide  753,  carbonic  acid  18'6,  water  ll'L 
Spain,  Westphalia,  Bavaria,  Persia,  United  States,     Valuable  ore. 

297.  AtJBioHALorrE,  2CuO  +  SZnfl,. 

Acicular.  H.  =2.  Translucent,  pearly,  and  verdigris-gnen. 
C.c:  29  2  copper  protoxide,  447  zinc  oxide,  16'2  carbonio  add, 
and  9*9  water.    .LeadhiUs,  Matlock,  Loktevski  in  the  Altat 

298.  Emeeald-Niokel  [ZaratUe),  ^10  +  663. 

Amorphous,  reniform,  and  incrusting.  H. -^3;  G.— 2*6  to  27. 
Translucent;  vitreous.  Emerald-green.  C.c:  59 '3  nickel  pro- 
toxide, 117  carbonic  acid,  and  29  water.  On  chromite  at  Hsgdale 
in  Unst,  'Texas  in  Pennsylvania ;  also  Cape  Ortegal  in  Spain, 
Tyrol,  and  Ekaterinburg  in  the  Urals. 

299.  LiNDAKERITE,   U,C+ 2C;aO-h  lOflj. 

In  small  siskin-green  crystalline  aggregates,  H.— 2'6  to  8. 
From  Elias  mine  near  Joachimsthal,  implanted  on  pitcU-blende. 

300.  VooLiTE,  4Ufi-^7(5aC-^3(!;a(j  +  24Il,. 

RhomboidaL  Emerald-green  scales  with  pearly  lostre.  Eliai 
mine,  Joachimsthal. 

301.  LiEBiotTE,  tJ■JS-l-(5aC■^20fi,. 

Mammillary  concretions.  H.  =2  to  2 '6.  Apple-green.  Adrian- 
ople,  Joachimsthal,  and  Johann-Georgenstadt. 

302.  BiSMUTHITE,  Bi<C,-K411j. 

Disseminated,  investing  or  acicular;  fracture  conchoidal  or  nn- 
even  ;  very  brittle.  H.  =4  to  4-5  ;  G.  -68  to  691.  Opaque  ;  dull 
vitreous.  Grey,  yellow,  or  green.  C.c. :  90'1  bismuth  oxide,  6'4 
carbonio  acid,  and  3 '6  water.  Ullersreuth  (Reuss),  Schneeberg, 
Johann-Georgenstadt  ;  also  Chesterfield  in  South  Carolina. 

303.  Lanthanite,  LaC-hSflj. 

Right  prismatic.  oaP  92°  46'.  Small  tabular  crystals  ;  nsuallj 
granular  or  earthy.  CI.  basaL  H.  -  2  ;  G.  -  27.  Dull  or  pearly. 
vVhite  or  yellowish.  C.c.  :  21  carbonic  acid,  55  lanthanum  ozide^ 
and  24  water.     Bastnaes  in  Sweden,  Lehigh  in  Pennsylvania. 

CARBONATES  WITH  HALOID  SALTS,  ho. 

304.  Phosoenite,  PbCl-hPbii. 

PyramidaL     P  113°  56'.      Crystals  short-prismatio  or  sharp' 
pyramidal.     CI.   ooP,  rather  perfect ;   f.'octuro 
conchoidal.       H. -2-5    to    3;    G.-6    to   6  2. 
Transparent  or  translucent ;  resinous  adaman-  1 
tine.  White,  yellow,    green,    or  grey.       C. 
61  chloride  and  49  carbonate  of  lead.     Very  ] 

rare.        Stottfield  1 

n(^r      Elgin 

Scotland,  Matlock  [ 

and   Cromford  in 

Derbyshire,    Tar- 

nowitz.  Fig-  886. 

306.  PASurrs,  SCeC-fCaP. 
Hexagonal.  P  164°  68'.  CL  basal, 
perfect.  H. -4-5;  G. -4-35.  Vitre- 
ous ;  on  cleavage  -  plane  pearly. 
Brownish  yellow,  inclining  to  red. 
C.c. :  23 '6  carbonic  acid,  42 '5  prot- 
pjo-  ^S7  /■cTi  ^Cif.\  oxide    of ;  cerium,     8  "2     lanthanum 

rig.  Ml  ^6p.  ouoj.  ^^^^^  g.g  ^jy^„nj  o^4g^  2-8  Ume, 

lO'l  fluoride  of  calcium,  and  22  fluoride  of  cerium, 
mines  of  the  Muiio  Valley  in  Colombia,  Urals. 

306.  LEADHiixiTE(3/iza;f««),  PbijCi^jOiij-f-Sll,. 

Right  prismatic.    P  middle  edge  187°;  ooP  120°  20';  2t 


Emerald 


Fig.  388. 


Fig.  389. 


Mostly  tabular  ;  also  twins.     CL  basal,  perfect ;  slightly  brittle. 
H.  -2'6  ;  G.  -6-26  to  6 '44.     Transpaient  or  tnuulucent ;  reeinoui 


400 


MINERALOGY 


Fig.  391  (sp.  307). 


or  adain.inti:io,  pparly  on  OP.  Yellowish  white,  inclining  to  grey, 
green,  j-cllow,  or  brown.  C.c. :  81  98  oxide  of  lead,  803  car- 
bonic acid,  8'12  sulphuric 
acid,  1"8  water.  Lead- 
hills,  Taunton,  Neftchinsk, 
Granada.  Maxitt  from  Sar- 
dinia. 

307.    ScsAN.viTE,   8tbC 
-t-fbS. 

Rhombohedral ;  R  72° 
29'.  CL  basal,  perfect. 
H. -2-5;  G. -6-65.  White, 
j;reen,  yellow,  brownish. 
Resinoua  to  adamantine  ; 
pearly  on  the  cleavage 
faces.  Powder  white. 
C.c:  72 '6  carbonate  and 
27 '6  sulphate  of  lead. 
From  the  Susanna  mine  at  „.  „..  ,  „  „„, 
LeadhiUs,  but  Tory  rare ;  "^S- ^^^ ''?•  2<"' 
also  in  large  dark  crystals  from  the  Banat. 

ANHYDROUS  SULPHATES. 

803.  Aeoanite  (OlaseriU),  fejS . 

Right  prismatic  Acute  pyramids,  with  ooP  120°  24';  dimorphous 
and  also  rhombohedral,  with  R  88°  14'.  Mostly  in  crusts,  or  pul- 
Temlent.  OL  basal,  imperfect.  H. -2-5  to  3  ;  G,  =27.  Pellucid; 
vitreous  or  resinous.  Colourless  or  white.  C.c.  :  54  potash  and  40 
sulphuric  acid.     Lavas  of  Vesuvius  and  other  volcanoes, 

309.  .Masoaonine,  (Nli,)^'. 

Right  prismatic.  ooP  121°  8' ;  but  chiefly  in  crusts  and  stalac- 
tites. CI.  perfect;  sectile.  H.-2  to  2-6  ;  G.  =  17  to  1-8.  Pel- 
lucid ;  vitreous.  Colourless,  white,  or  yellowish.  Taste  pungent 
and  bitter.  C.c.  :  25'9  ammonia,  60"5  sulphuric  acid,  and  13'fl 
water.  Near  volcanoes,  as  Etna,  Vesuvius,  the  Solfatara,  the 
Lipan  Islands,  in  the  marshes  near  Siena,  and  in  ignitod  coal-beds, 
as  at  Bradley  in  Staffordshire. 

310.  Thenardite,  Naj's. 

Right  prismatic.  Acute  pyramids  P,  with  OP  and  ooP,  in  crusts 
and  druses.  CI.  basal,  perfect;  fracture  uneven.  H.  — 2"5;  G.  = 
2-6  to  2  7.  Pellucid;  vitreous.  White.  C.c.  :  43  82  soda  and 
66*18  ^Iphuric  acid.  In  salt  deposits  near  Aranjuez  (Spain)  and 
at  Tarapaca  (Peru). 

311.  Glauberitb  (^roTi^iortmi!),  Na^S+fca'S'. 

Oblique  prismatic,  C  68°  16'.  OP,  -  P,  or  with  ooP  (P,  /,  M, 
392).  CL  basal,  perfect;  along  c«P  traces.  H.-2-5 
to  3;  0.-275  to  285.  Translucent;  vitreous  to 
resinous.  Colourless.  C.c. :  51  sulphate  of  soda, 
and  49  sulphate  of  lime.  Villarnbia  in  Spain,  Vic, 
Berchtesgaden,  near  Brugg  in  Aargau,  Aussee  and 
Ischl  in  Austria  ;  Tarapaca  in  Peru,  with  I  to  5 
boracic  acid. 

312.  Anhydrite  (KarslmiU),  CnS. 
Right  prismatic.      ooP  90°  4'.     Chiefly  granular,  or  almost  com- 

jvact  or  columnar.  Twins  rare.  CI.  macrodiagonal  and  brachy- 
diagonal,  both  perfect;  basal  perfect.  H.— 3  to  3'6  ;  G.-2'8  to 
3.  Transparent  or  translucent ;  vitreons ;  on  odPoo  pearly. 
Colourless  or  white,  but  often  blue,  red,  or  grey  ;  streak  greyish 
white.     C.c.  :  58  75  sulphuric  acid  and  41 '25  lime. 

The  crystalline,  or  MiiriaciU,  occurs  in  the  salt-mines  of  Bex,  Hall 
in  Tyrol,  and  Aussee  in  Styria,  also  at  Sulz,  Stassfiirt,  and  Bleiberg. 
Compact  at  Isclil  in  Austria,  Berchtesgaden,  Eisleben,  and  the 
Harz.  Granular,  or  Vnlpinite,  near  Bergamo.  The  contorted,  or 
OtkrHsstein,  chiefly  at  Wieliczka  and  Bochuiu. 

313.  B.vryte  (iTcary  5p(ir),  fiaS'. 

Right  prismatic  P=o  (3)  78°  20";  Pco  (/)  105°  22';  <xf2  (d)  77° 
ii!  ;  also  ooPoo  (c)  (figs.  125,  126,  127,  but  in  a  different  position, 
d,*d  being  placed  vertical).  The  crystals  show  very  many  forms 
and  combioatiouB,  and  aro  tabular  or  columnar,  often  in  druses  or 
groups;  also  foliated,  fibrous,  granular,  or  compact.  Ci.  biacliy- 
diagonal  peifect,  along  fao  less  perfect;  basal,  traces.  II. -3 
to  35;  G.— 4  3  to  47.  Transparent  to  translucent;  vitreous 
or  resinous.  Colourless  and  white,  but  generally  reddish  wliite, 
or  flesh-red,  yellow,  grey,  bluish,  grcenisli,  or  brown.  B.  B. 
Jc<ropitat«3  violently,  ana  fuses  vciy  diUieuUly,  or  only  on  the 
vdgcs,  colouring  the  flame  yellowisli  green  ;  not  soluble  in  acids. 
C.c. :  343  sulphuric  acid  and  657  borjta,  but  occasionally 
>vilh  1  to  15  sulpliato  of  strontia.  Very  common,  chiefly  iu  veins, 
either  alone  or  accompanying  ores.  Crystals  at  Arran,  Strontian, 
Elie,  Sutherland ;  Dufton,  Bohemia,  Felsobanya  and  Kxemiit*  iu 


Fig  392 


Hungary,  Auvcrgne,  and  United  States.  Colnmnar  at  Freiberg.' 
The  radiatid  from  near  Bologna,  or  the  Bolognest  Stone,  phos- 
phoresces in  the  dark.  Massive,  or  Cawk,  from  Derbyshire  and 
Staffordshire,  Leadhills,  and  Arran.  ,-     *^,    .  * 

Lime  Baryta,  from  Derbyshire,  Strontian,  Freiberg,  seems  a 
mixture  with  sulphate  of  lime ;  crj-stals  tabular,  in  rosettes  and 
other  groups;  G. -4  to  4  3.  Hepatite,  dark  grey,  from  carbona- 
ceous matter ;  Kongsberg.  AllovwrvhiU,  scaly,  whito,  and 
pearly,  near  Rudolstadt,  agrees  essentially  with  barytea. 

314.  Baetto-Celebtine,  2SrS  +  BaS'. 

Radiated  and  foliated.  Bluish  white.  Brittle  and  friable.  H.  — 
2 -5  ;G. -3-92.  Difficultly  fusible  Lake  Erie,  Upper  Canada,  and 
Biunenthal. 

315.  Celestine,  SrS!. 

Right  prismatic  ;  forms  like  barytes  and  anglesite.  roo(o)  104* 
8' ;  P«  (if)  76°  58'.  Usual  combinations  fa>,Poo,  oo?oo;orthi» 
with  00P2  (d) ;  also  columnar  and  foliated ;  or  fibrous,  fine 
granular,  or  compact  CI.  macrodiagonal,  perfect ;  along  Poo  less 
perfect.  H.  —  3  to  3  '6  ;  G.  —  3  9  to  4.  Transparent  or  translucent ; 
vitreous  or  resinous.  Colourless,  but  usually 
bluish  white  to  indigo-blue,  and  rarely  reddish 
or  yellowish.  B.B.  decrepitates  and  fuses 
easily  to  a  milk-white  globule  ;  colours  the 
flame  carmine-red.  Distinguished  from  barytes 
by  a  splinter,  after  ignition  in  the  inner  flame,  pj„  ggg 

on  being  mtJistened  with  h.  acid,  and  held  in 
the  blue  border  of  the  flame  of  a  candle,  colouring  this  of  a  lively 
purple-red.  Scarcely  affected  by  acids.  C.c. :  43 '6  sulphuric  acid 
rind  56*4  strontia,  but  often  some  baryta  or  lime.  Tantallon 
Castle,  Calton  Hill,  Clachnaharry ;  near  Bristol  and  Knares- 
borough  ;  sulphur-mines  of  Girgenti  and  other  parts  of  Sicily, 
Herrengrund  in  Hungary,  Bex,  Salzburg,  Monte  Yiale  near  Verona, 
and  M'euJon  and  Montmartie  near  Paris.  Used  for  producing  a  red 
light  in  pyrotechnic  mixtures. 

316.  Anglesite,  PbS'. 

Right  prismatic  »f  103°  43';  Pco  75°  35'.  The  crj-stils,  ol 
many  forms  and  combinations,  are  short  prismatic,  pynunidal, 
or  tabular.  CI.  prismatic  along  o=P,  and 
basal ;  fracture  conchoidal ;  very  brittle. 
H.  =3;  G. -6-2  to  6-35.  Transparent  or 
translucent  ;  adamantine  or"  resinous. 
Colourless  and  white,  but  occasionally  yellow, 
:   ey,  brown,  or  blue  ; 

Lak  white.  De- 
1  opitates  in  candle  ; 
B.  B.  on  charcoal 
fuses  in  the  oxygen 
flame  to  a  milk-white 
bead  ;  very  difficultly 
soluble  in  acids, 
wliolly  in  solution  of 

tash.       C.c:    737 


Fig.  395. 


Fig.  394. 

ead  protoxide  and  26  3  sulphuric  acid.     Leadhills  (fig.  397),  St 

Ives  in  Cornwall,  Derbyshire," 

Parya     mine     in     Anglosea,' 

ZeUerfeld,  Klausthal,   Badon- 


Fig.  396.  Fig.  397. 

weiler,  Siegen,  Silesia,  Linares,  Phoeniiville  in  Pennsylvania. 

317.  Lanahkite,  rbS  +  Pb. 

Oblique  prismatic.     ooP  49°  50*.    CL  basal,  perfect;  sectilo;  thia 
lamina  flexible.    H.-2  to  25;   G. -6  3  to  6  7.    Transparent; 


Fig.  39a 
resinous  or  adamantine ;  on   OP  pearly.     Greenish  or  ycUowiaS 
white,  inclining  to  grey  ;  streak  white,     B.B.  on  charcoal  fusea  t« 
a  white  globule  containing  ^jetallic  lead;  partially  soluble  in  a. 


MINERALOGY 


401 


'acid  irith  effeireaMncB.    C.c:  sulphate  of  lead  67 '6,  oxide  of  lead     dyeing,  and  in  manufacturing  ink,  Prussian  blue,  and  anlphuric 
42-4.     Leadhills;  rare.  acid.  o  .  r 


HYDROUS  SI7LPHATES. 

818.  UlBXBnJTS{OlauberSaU),'Si^  +  loi{,. 

Oblijue  prismatic,  C  72"  15'.  CL  orthodiagonal ;  fracture 
CODchoidal.  H.  —  1  "6  to  2  ;  G.  —  1  '4  to  1  '6.  Pellucid  and  colour- 
less. C.c:  192  soda,  24  8  sulphuric  acid,  and  56  water.  As 
an  efflorescence  in  quarries,  on  old  walls,  or  on  the  ground  ;  in 
the  waters  of  lakes  aud  springs  in  Russia  aud  Egypt,  and  on 
VesuTias  du  lara. 

319.  Gtpsdm,  Ca3  +  2fi2. 

Oblique  prismatic,  C  80*  57'.  The  most  common  forms  are 
<»Plll°30'i  P138°40';  -P143°  30';  and  ooP'oo.  Two  common 
combinations  are  <»P(/),  ooFoo  (p),  -  P  (I)  {fig.  129),  and  this 
■with  P.  Lenticular  crystals  often  occur  ;  heniitropes  frequent  (figs. 
161,150;  151);  also  granular,  compact,  fibrous,  scaly,  orpulverulent. 
CI.  clinodiagonal  perfect,  along  P  much  less  perfect ;  sectile  ;  thin 
plates  flexible.  H. -1-5  to  2  (lowest  on  P) ;  G. -22  to  2-4. 
'Transparent  or  translucent ;  vitreous,  on  cleavage  pearly  or  silky. 
Colourless,  and  snow-white,  but  often  red,  grey,  yellow,  brown,  and 
more  rarely  greenish  or  bluish.  In  the  closed  tube  yields  water. 
U.  B.  becomes  opaque  and  white ;  soluble  in  400  to  500  parts  of 
water,  scarcely  more  so  in  acids.  C.c:  46'6  sulphuiic  acid,  326 
Jimo,  and  20 '9  water. 

Transparent  crystals,  or  Sdenite,  occur  in  the  salt-mines  of  Bex 
in  Switzerland,  of  the  iVrol,  Salzburg,  and  Bohemia,  in  the  sulphur- 
mines  of  Sicily,  at  Lockpm't  in  New  York,  in  porphyry  at  Gourock, 
in  the  clay  of  Shotover  Hill  near  Oxford,  at  Chatley  near  Bath,  and 
:many  other  localities.  Ftbrous  gypsum  at  Campsie,  Matlock  in 
Derbyshire,  and  at  Ilfeld  in  the  Harz.  Compact  gj'psum  in  whole 
■beds  in  many  parts  of  England,  Germany,  France,  and  Italy,  at 
Yolterra  in  Tuscany  (Alabaster)  often  wiih  rock-ilt.  The  finer 
-4ualities-(or  alabaster)  aoe  cut  into  various  oiiiamental  articles. 

820.  KlESEEITE,  ligS  +  fi,. 

Rhombic,  but  chiefly  massive.  G.  — 2"62.  Pellucid;  greyish 
•white.  C.c:  magnesia  29,  sulphuric  acid  58,  water  13.  In  beds  at 
Stassfurt. 

821.  'ETSo-axTE  {Epsom Salt),  iigS  +  lYi^. 

Eight  prismatic.  P  mostly  heraihedric  ;  ooP  90°  38'.  ooP  (J/), 
oofco  (o),  P  (0  (fig.  399).  Granular,  fibrous,  or  earthy.  CI. 
brachydiagonal,  perfect.  H. -2  to  2  5; 
G.  =  1 75.  Pellucid  ;  vitreous  ;  and  white. 
Taste  bitter.  C,c:  16-32  magnesia,  32-53 
sulphuric  acid,  and  5115  water.  EfSorescence 
on  various  rocks,  as  at  Hurlet  near  Paisley, 
Idria,  Montmartre,  and  Freiberg ;  on  the 
ground  in  Spain  and  the  Russian  steppes  ; 
in  mineral  waters,  as  at  Epsom  in  Surrey, 
Saidschitz  and  Seidlitz  in  Bohemia.  Used  in 
medicine. 

322.  GoSLAElTE    {White    Vitriol),    Zn'S 
-^7H3. 

Right  prismatic.      ooP  90°  42' ;  isomor- 
phous  with  epsomite.      ooP,  osPot,  P  (M,  o, 
I)  (fij.  399).      Mostly  granul.ir  or  stakctitic ;      Fig.  399  (sp.  321). 
leniform  a-.\d  incnistinp;.     CI.  brachydiagonal,  perfect.     H.  =2to 
■*'5;  C-.  =2  to  2-1.     Pellucid  ;  vitreous.     White,  inclining  to  grey, 
J«llow,  green,  or  red.     Taste  nauseous-astringent.     C.  c :  28  -2  zinc 
oiade,  27-9  sulpimric  acid,  and  43-9  water. 
Holywell   in   Flintshire,    Cornwall,  Ram- 
melsberg  near  Goslar  in  the  Harz,  Falun, 
Schomnitz.    Used  in  dyeing  and  medicine. 

323.  MoRExosiTE,  NiS  +  7H,. 
Acicular,  fibrous,  and  as  an  efflorescence. 

H. -2  to  2-25;   G. -2.      Lustre  vitreous. 
Apple-green;  streak  white.    Soluble.    Mor- 
vern  m  Argyllshire,  Cape  Ortegal  (Spain),    . 
Lake  Hurou,  Pennsylvania. 

824.  MELA-\TEniTE  {Oran  Vitriol,  Cop- 
ptras),  FeS'+7rij. 

Oblique  prismatic,  C  75°  45'.  o>P  (/) 
82*  22' ;  -  P  (P)  101°  34' ;  P««o  (o)  67°  30' 
(fig<400);  chiefly  jtalactitic,  rcniform,  or  in  ^'S-  ^O"  (sp.  324). 
crusts.  CI.  bx'ial,  perfect;  prismatic  less  so.  H.-2;  G.-1-8  tol-9. 
Translucent,  rarely  transparent;  vitreous.  Leek- ormountain-greon, 
often  with  a  yellowish  coating ;  streak  white.  C.c :  26  protoxide  of 
tion,  29  sulphuric  arid,  and  46  water.  Hurlot  near  Paisloy, 
•  ISodcBmais,   Kanunelaber;g,  Falun,  Schemnitz,   Bilin.     Used  in 

l(i— 16 


325.  Smikite,  Mn^  +  Hj . 

Stalactitic  aggregates.     Rose  to  white.     Felsobanya  (Hungary). 
826.  Mallasdite,  liiis'-l-7ftj. 

Crystalline  foliated  masses ;  apparently  oblique  prismatic.  Lucky 
Bay  mine  in  Utah. 

327.  Bieberite  {Cobalt  Vitriol),  OoSV7Hj. 

Oblique  prismatic  ;  usually  stalactitic,  or  an  efflorescence.  Pale 
rose-red.  C.c  :  20  cobalt  oxide,  4  magnesia,  29  sulphuric  acid,  and 
47  water.     Bieber  near  Hanau,  and  Leogang. 

328.  Alunooene  (Hair-Salt),  AljS  +  lSftj. 

Capillary  or  acicular,  in  crusts  or  reniform  masses.  H.  =  1-5  to 
2  ;  G.  —  1  -6  to  1  -7.  Silky.  White,  inclining  to  green  or  yellow. 
C.c;  86  sulphuric  acid,  16-4  alumina,  48  6  water.  Volcanoes  of 
South  America,  in  coal  and  lignite  in  Germany,  and  on  old  walls. 

329.  ALTjmmTE{JVebsteriU),  Ai^'+SU. 

Reniform,  and  very  fine  scaly,  or  fibrous.  Fracture  earthy  ; 
sectile  or  friable.  H.  —  1;G.  =  17.  Opaque  ;  dull  or  glimmering  ; 
snow-white  or  yellowish  white.  C.  c. :  29  8  alumina,  23  2  sulphuric 
acid,  and  47  water.  Newhaven  in  Sussex  ;  Epernay,  Auteuil,  and 
Lunel  Vicil  in  France ;  Halle  and  Mori  in  Prussia.  Felsobanyile, 
from  Hungary,  in  rhombic  tubes,  is  similar,  but  has  10  per 
cent,  of  water. 

330.  CoQUiMBI-TE,  i'ej3S-)-9fl3. 

Hexagonal.  P  58°.  Crystals  OP ;  with  ocP  and  P  ;  usually 
granular.  CI.  ooP,  imperfect.  H. -2  to  2-5;  G. -2  to  21. 
\Vhite,  also  brown,  yellow,red,  and  blue.  C.c. :  28-6  iron  peroxide, 
42  6  sulphuric  acid,  and  28-9  water.  Copiapo  in  Chili,  ana  Calama 
in  Bolivia. 

3."il.  COPIAPITE,  2Fe25S'-fI3Hj. 

Six-sided  tables,  but  system  uncertain  ;  also  granular.  CI.  per- 
fect. Translucent ;  pearly.  Yellow.  C.  c :  34  iron  peroxide,  42 
sulphuric  acid,  and  24  water.  Copiapo  in  Chili.  Also  radiated- 
fibrous  masses,  dirty  greenish  yellow,  incrusting  the  former, 
with  32  sulphuric  acid  and  37  water.     Both  probably  mixtures. 

Fibrofa-rite,  also  from  Chili,  and  Yellow  Iron  Ore,  from  the  brown 
coa^  at  Kolosoruk  in  Bohemia  and  Modum  in  Norway,  are  both 
reniform,  or  compact  and  earthy.  H.  =  2-5  to  3  ;  G.  -2-7  to  2-9. 
Colour  ochre-yellow.  Apatclile,  rcnifcrm-earthy,  yeUow,  from 
Auteuil  near  Paris,  is  similar;  also  Vitriol  Ochre  from  Falun. 
Misy,  from  Rammelsberg  in  the  Harz,  containing  sulphates  of  iron, 
copper,  zinc,  and  other  metals,  is  a  product  of  decomposiiaon. 

332.  PissoPHAKE,  (Al3F'e.)2S-H5H,. 

Stalactitic  ;  fracture  conchoidal ;  very  ctsily  frangible.  H.  =  2  ; 
G.  ■=l-9to  2.  Transparent  or  translucent ;  vitreous.  OUve-green 
to  liver-brown  ;  streak  greenish  white  to  pa'.e  yellow.  C.c :  7  to  35 
alumina,  10  to  40  iron  i>^roxide,  12  sulphuric  icid,  and  41  water. 
Saalfeld  and  Reichenbach  in  Saxony. 

Carpliosidcrite,  reniform,  opaque,  resinous,  and  srfraw-yellow,  with 
a  greasy  feel,  is  related.    H.  -  4  -5 :  G.  = 
2-5.     Consists  of  hydrous  sulphate  of     <j. 
iron.     Labrador. 

333.  Cealcakthite,  CuS  +  ofij. 
Anorthic      ocpw(,i):   <»P(x;{r) 


19'.    P'  (P): 
120°  50'.     P: 
o»'P  {M)  123'  10'  (fi 


P'  (T)  127° 
"  2;'. 


40'.    P: 


Fig.  401  (sp.  333). 

water. 
Tyrol, 


{T): 
401).  Generally 
incrusting.  CI. 
T  pnd  M,  ira- 
perfect.  II.  — 
2-5;  G.  =2-2. 
Blue.  C.c:  32 
protoxide       of 

copper,  32  sulphuric  acid,  36 
Cornwall,  Wicklow,  Hungary, 
Falun,  and  on  lava  of  YesuviiiA 

334.  Br.ocHANTiTE,  CiiS  +  sCuH,. 
Right  prismatic.       ooP   104°  32';    Poo 

152°  37';    and   a>Poo  ;  also  reniform.     CI. 
brachydiagonal,    perfect.      H.  —  3-5  to   4; 
6.-3-76  to  3  9.      Transparent  or  trans- 
lucent ;    vitreous.       Emerald  or    blackish 
green;    streak    bright    green,       C.c:    70 
Fig.  402  (sp.  334).       copper     protoxide,     18     sulphuric     aclj, 
and  12  wtter.  _  Sudlodgs  (Unst),   Roughton   Gill  in  Comber- 
XVI.  —    SI 


402 


MINEKALOGY 


oP  (m),  ooP'. 


knd,      Rszbanya,    Ekaterinburg  ;      &lso     KrUurig     in    Iceland 
(KrisuvigiU). 

335.  Lanoite,  CuS'+3(iuHj  +  2S3. 

Eight  prismatic.  ooP  123°  H'.  Crystals  long-tabular,  mostly 
in  twins.  Also  in  fibro-lamellar  and  concretionary  crusts,  witn 
earthy  surface.  CI.  basal  and  brachydiagonal.  H.  — 2'6;  G.  — 3'6. 
Vitreous.  Greenish  blue.  C.c. ;  66'1  copper  protojude,  16'4  sul- 
phuric acid,  and  18 '5  water.     Cornwall. 

WarringtomU  is  similar  ;  also  Konigine  from  Siberia. 

336.  JoHANNiTE  (Uran-vilriol). 

Oblique  prismatic,  C  86°  40'.  ooP  69°.  Crystals  similar  to 
trona  (No.  291,  fig.  383),  but  minute;  airanged  in  concretionary 
and  reuiform  masses.  H.  —  2  to2'5  ;  G.  —  319.  Semitransparent ; 
vitreous.  Soluble.  Taste  bitter.  Bright  grass-green.  C.c. :  oxides 
of  uranium  6772,  oxide  of  copper  5'99,  sulphuric  acid  20 '02,  water 
5*59.     Joachimsthal  (Bohemia),  Johann-Georgenstadt. 

337.  Blodite  {Astrakanite),  (MgNa3)S  +  2flj. 
Oblique  prismatic,  C  100°  43'.      ooP°2  112°  55 

(6),  <xP-2(»i),  <xP°=o  (a),  -P(p),P«,x> 
(d),  OP  (c)  (fig.  403).  In  prismatic 
crystals,  or  efflorescent.  H.  =3*5;G. 
=  2 '2.  Transparent.  White  or  red. 
C.c:  47-9  sulphuric  acid,  8-5feoda,  12 
magnesia,  and  21'5  water.  Salt  lakes 
on  the  Volga  near  Astrakhan,  Ischl, 
Stassfurt,  and  near  Mendoza  in  South 
America. 

EciissiTie  from  Seidlitz  is  similar,  but 
a  mixture. 

338.  LowEiTE,2(Na2S  +  MgS)  +  5H,. 
Pyramidal,  but  only  compact.     CI. 

basal,   distinct;   also  octahedral,  with 

angles  110°  44' and  105°  2'.     H. -2-5 

to  3  ;  G.  =2-376.     Vitreous.     Yellow-  Fig.  403  (sp.  337). 

ish  white  to  flesh-red.     Co.:  20  soda,  13  magnesia,  52  sulphui'ic 

acid,  and  16  water.     Ischl. 

339.  Sykoenite,  Ka'S  +  CaS  +  Hj. 
Oblique  prismatic,   C  76°.       cx>P  73°  65'. 

aP««.  (b),  OP  (c),  ooP  (p),   coP<'2  (/'), 

ooP°3  (p'"),  2P°2  (e'),  P  (0'),  2P  {o"), 
P'cc  (jj-P-M  (r),  P»«,  (/),  2P<'»  (r"), 

-IP""  (e).  CI.  ojP,  perfect;  fracture 
conchoidal,  H. -2-5;  G. -2'25.  Colour- 
less to  milk-white.  C.c;  lime  ]6'88, 
potash  28 '66,  sulphuric  acid  48-45, 
water  5-47.  Soluble  in  400  parts  of 
water.  In  cavities  in  halite  at  Kalusz 
(Galicia). 

340.  POLTHALITE,  SCa'S  +  lilgSVKjg 
-^2fi^. 

Right  prismatic  osP  116°.  Mostly 
fibrous.  H.-3-5i  G. -2-7  to  28. 
Translucent;  resinous.  Colourless,  gene- 
rally brick-red.  C.c;  sulphate  of  lime 
45,  of  r'"""""'"  ""■■=  "<■--■•-.•.  1"  '-— ^ 
Bercht 


Crystals 


Fig.  401  (sp. 
;nesia  20-6,  of  potash  29,  'water  5-6.     Ischl,  A 


339). 
ussee, 


md 


341.  Alum,  ftS  +  ^Aljf'caJS'.i-f  24ftj. 

Cubic.  0,  sometimes  with  ooOoo  and  Cm.  Generally  efflorescent 
in  fibrous  crusts.  CI,  octnhedrnl ;  fracture  conclioidal.  H. -2to 
2-6  ;  G.- 1-75  to  1-9.  Translucent.  White.  Taste  sweetish-astrin- 
gent. Soluble  B.B.  evolves  sulphurous  fumes,  (a)  Polanh  Alinn: 
KO-KjO;  33-7  sulphuric  acid,  10-9  alumina,  99  potash,  and  455 
water.  In  the  coal  formation  ot  Hurlet  and  Campsie  in  Scotland  • 
the  Tertiary  brown  coals  of  Hesse  and  the  Khine;  the  Lias  near 
Whitby;  Silurian  alum  slates  of  Scotland,  Norway,  and  Sweden; 
the  volcanic  formations  of  the  Lipari  Islands,  Sicily,  and  the  Azores.' 
(6)  Ammonia  Alum:  RO-(NH,0).j;  about  \  ])er  cent,  oxide  of 
ammonium  and  48  water.  In  closed  tube  forms  a  sublimata  of  sul- 
phate of  ammonia.  Tschermig  in  Bohemia.  (c)  Soda  Alum- 
RO-Na,0;  with  7  of  soda  and  48  water,  Mendoza  in  South 
America,  Solfatora  near  Naples,  and  Milo,  {d)  Magnesia  Alum  : 
KO-MgO.  Translucent  and  silky.  South  Africa,  Iquinuo  in  Peru 
[PickcringiU),  (c)  Iron  Alum(Pcatlu:r Alum)  :  RO-FeO.  Hurlet 
near  Paisley,  Mbnsfeld  in  Bavaria,  Krisuvig  in  Iceland.  (/)  Man- 
gancs^Alum:  ^.O-HuO.  From  Dolagoa  Bay  in  South  Africa.  An 
alum  with  3'7  oxido  of  zinc  occurs  at  Folsobanya,  and  has  been 
termed  Didrichitt. 

342.  ToLTAITE,  SCfo,  KJS  +  2{J'e3Alj)'S'+12Il3. 

Cubic.    0  ;   ooOm  ;  Oa> .    Black,  brown,  or  gioen.     H.  -  3;  G.  - 


Fig.  405  (sp.  343). 

Colour   ochre-yflilow- 


2-79,     Solfatara  near   Naples,    Goslar  in   the   Harz,   and  Kftm- 
nitz. 

343.  Aldsite,  6J3-^3-ij^S-^6H3. 

Rhombohedial ;  E  89°  10'.  Crystals  K  and  OR  (fig.  405) ;  also 
earthy.  CI.  basal  H.- 3 -6  to  4; 
G. -26  to  28.  Translucent ;  vitre- 
ous, pearly  on  0.  Colourless,  but 
often  stained.  Hungary,  'Tolfa 
(near  Civita  Vecchia),  Lipari 
Islands,  Auvergne,  and  Milo. 

344.  Jarosite,      KjS  +  F'ejSS-l-   - 
2(Fe.3fIj). 

Rhombohedral ;  R  88°  58'.     CI. 
basal ;  also  fibrous   in   nodules  or 
incrusting      H. -2-6  to  3-6;   G. -3-24. 
Spain,  Saxony,  and  Mexico. 

345.  Gelbeiseneez,  62S  +  4Fe2S  +  9ftj. 

Foliated  and  massive.  H. -25  to  3  ;  G, -2-7  to  2-0.  Bohemia 
Norway,  and  Tcheleken  Island  in  the  Caspian  Sea. 

346.  Ueusite,  'f'e'S-H2}faj3S-t-8H,. 
Tcheleken  Island  in  the  Caspian. 

347.  BOTRYOGENE  (iJerf  VUriol),  FejSj  •)- 3(F'ej2'S) -I- 3611, . 
Oblique  prismatic,  C  62°  26'.      ooP119°  56'.     Commonly  botry- 

oidal.     H. -2  to  2-5  ;  G, -2.     Translucent ;  vitreous.     Hyacinth- 
red  and  orange-yellow.     Falun  in  Sweden. 

348.  Herre-nqeundite. 

Oblique  prismatic,  C  88°  50'.  Dark  emerald-green  crystals. 
H.-2-5;  G.-3-13.  C.c:  57-22  oxide  of  copper,  2304  sulphuric 
oxide,  19 '44  water,  sometimes  with  lime.     HeiTengi-und  (Hungary). 

349.  Linarite,  (PbS  +  H3Pb)-KCuS  +  l}jCu). 

Oblique  prismatic,  C  77°  22'.  ooP  (itf)  61°  41' ;  2P»«.  («)  62°  31'. 
Crystals  c»P°oo  (a),  OP  (c),  and  the  above  forms  generally.  Hemi- 
tropes  united  by   ooP°oo  (o).      CI.  orthodiagonal,  perfect ;  fracture 


36°  10'. 


Fig.  403. 

conchoidal.  H.  *=  2  -5  to  3 ;  G.  =  6  -2  to  5  -45.  Translucent ;  adamant- 
ine. Azure- blue  to  dark  blue;  streak  pale  blue.  C.c:  oxide  of 
lead  56-69,  oxide  of  copper  19-83,  sulphuric  acid  19*98,  water  4-5. 
Leadhills,  Red  Gill  and  Roughton  Gul  (Cumberland),  Linares  in 
Spain,  and  Nertchinsk. 

350.  Caledo.s-ite,  5PbS-H2(H3f'b)-l-3(H30u)- 
Right  prismatic    ooP  (m)  95°;  Poo  (c)  70°  57';  2Pa 

Crystals  frequently  as  in  fig,  407,  but  gene- 
rally hemihedral,  CI.  brachydiagonal,  a  dis- 
tinct; m,  cimperfect,  H, -2-5  to  8  ;  G.  -  64. 
Transporent ;  resinous.  Verdigris-green  and 
mountain-green  ;  streak  greenish  white.  C,c: 
68-42  oxide  of  lead,  1017  oxide  of  copper, 
17-3  sulphuric  acid,  4-05  water.  Leadhills,  ; 
Red  Gill  in  Cumberland,  Rezbanya  in  Tran- 
sylvania. 

351.  LETTSO.MITE,        SCujS  ■^  2(Als3H3) -H 
1511^. 

Right  prismatic;   but  in  tufts  of  capillary 
crystals  with  velvet-like  appearance.     Colour    r.-     ja-j  /       ocrt\ 
smalt-blue   to  sky-blue,      dc:   49   oxide  of    ^.g,  407  (sp,  350). 
copper,  2-97  lime,  11-21  alumina,  141  oxide  of  iron,  121  sulphuric 
acid,    22  5    water.      ^loldaw-a    in   the   Banat.       lyoodwardiU    is, 
probably  an  aluminous  variety 
of  the  above.     Turquoise-blue 
to  greenish  blue.     Coinwal). 

352.  Kainite,    JJgS  +  KCl 
■fSrt.. 

Oblique  prismatic,  C  85°  5' 
(iig408).  G, -2-13.  CLortho- 
diogonal.      White  to  reddish. 
C.c  :  18-1  magne.-iia,  15-7  potash,  32-2  sulphuric  acid,  14'S  chlorine, 
21  -7  water.     SUssfui  t. 


Fig.  408  (sp.  352). 


MINERALOGY 


403 


Fig.  409  (sp.  355). 


TELLURATES  AOT)  CHROMATES. 
85S.  VotnAKiTB,  '6^'i'e  +  262 . 

locrutiDg,  euthy.     Lustre  waxy.     YeUovish.     Opaqne.     O.c. 
bismuth  66  S,  teUorium  26-8,  water  5 '9.     Highland  in  Montana. 

S64.  MiONOtiTE,  flgf  e . 

'White  acicular  crystals  from  Keystone  mine  in  Colorado. 

866.  Cbocoisite,  tbCir. 

Obliqne  prismatic,  C  77°  27'.  odP  93°  iH  (M),  -  P  119°  12'  «) 
eoP^m  SS"  10',  <»P«oo  {g\  (fig.  409). 
CI.  ooP,  distinct;  soctile.  H. -2-5  to 
t ;  G.  -  6  -9  to  6  1.  Translucent ;  ada- 
mantine. Hyacinth-  or  aurora-red  ; 
strvak  oniDge-yeUow.  G  c. :  31  chromic 
ncid,  and  69  lead  protoxide.  BerezofT, 
Mnrsinsk,  and  Nijni-Tagilsk  in  the 
Urals,  Congonhas  do  Campo  in  Brazil, 
Rezbanya,  Moldawa,  and  Tamowitz. 
Used  as  a  pigment,  but  not  permanent. 

356.  PH0BNico-CHEOlTi;,2f'bCr+l'b. 

Right  prismatic ;  dimensions  un- 
known. H. -3  to  3-6;  0.-575. 
Translucent  on  the  edges ;  resinous 
or  adamantine.  Cochineal-  to  hya- 
cinth-red; streak  brick-red.  Co.:  23  chromic  acid!  and  77  prot- 
oxide of  lead.     Berezoff. 

367.  Vacqueunite,  2(2f'b■er+f'b)-^(2CuiJ■r-K^l). 

Oblioue  prismatic,  C  67°  16'.     Crystals  OP,  -P,  -P<>oo  for  P 
f,  h),  always  twinned  (Bg.  410),  the  faces  of  OP 
forming  an  angle  of  134'  30';  also  botryoidal  or  <I 
reniform.     H.  =  2-5  to  3 ;  G.  -  5  5  to  5  8.     Semi-  '•'* 
translucent  or  opaque;    resinous.      Blackish   or      -j^     „„ 
ilark  oUre-green;  streak  siskin  green.      C.c:  61         ^'g- 410. 
lead  protoxide,  11  copper  protoxide,  28  chromic  acid.     Leadhills 
Berezoff,  Congonhas  do  Campo  (Brazil). 

MOLYBDATES  AND  TUNGSTATES. 
868.  ■WuLTByiTE,  fbilo . 

4i&):"'k^pfCta'e;''''«'"'*^^'^'^-"^('^'-«^2W(«8«- 

fiacture   uneven,    or  con- 

clioidal.     H. -3;   G.  =6'3 

to  6 '9.  Pellucid;  resinous 

to    adamantine.     Orange- 

yoUow,  honey-yellow    and 

colourless.   C.c:  protoxide 

of  lead  61  5,  molyodic  acid 

33 '6;    red   varieties    have 

some  chromic  acid.    Lack- 

entyre   in    Kirkcudbright 

(fig.  412),    Bleiberg,    Rez- 

biinya,  Pennsylvania,  Za- 

catecas.       ZPbOMoO,     + 

CaOUoO,,    with    6-88    of 

lime,  occurs  in  Chili. 


Fig.  414  (sp.  358). 


Fig.  413  (sp.  358). 

869.  EosiTE. 

Pyramidal.    OP  (c)  :p'H7'10' ;  p*  :p  125°40'(fig.  415).    H.-S 
to  4.    Colour  deep  aurora-red.    Streak  orange- 
ycUow.    Avanadio-molybdateoflead.    Lead- 
hills. 

360.  Meoabasite,  Mg^W, . 
Oblique  prismatic;  similar  to  wolframite. 

Ill  fine  needles.  H. -3-5  to  4  ;  G.-6-45  to 
6  97.  Vitreous  to  adamantine.  Yellowish 
brown  to  brownish  red,  translucent  hyacinth- 
red  j  streak  ochre-yellow.  C.c:  protoxide 
of  manganese  231,  protoxide  of  iron  6-4, 
tungstic  acid  71  5.  Schlaggenwald,  Sadis 
dorf,  Morococha  in  Peru. 

361.  SCHEELITE,  CaW. 

i,?/!^*'"^?,','  "i"'  ™"°y  "f  *''«  modifying  planes  hemihedric  P. 
n3'S2'.  CL  2P.0  (n)  130°  83',  perfect;  TPand  OP  less  so.  Frac- 
ture concho.dal.  H.  -4  to  4-5  ;  G.  -5-9  to  6-2.  Translucent ; 
resmona  to  adamantine.  Colourless,  and  grey,  yellow,  or  brown ; 
reak  white.    C.c:  19 -4  lime,  80-6  tungstic  acid.    Caldbeckfell  near 


Fig.  416  (sp.  359). 


Keswick,  Pengelly  in  Cornwall,  Zinuwild.  Schlaatenwald.  Salz- 
burg, Chili,  Si-  -  - 


Fig.  416  (sp.  361,. 

Pyramidal,  generally  hemihedric  P. 
131  25',  Crystals  sometimes  spindle- 
shaped.  CI.  P,  imperfect  H.  ■=3;G.- 
7■9to8•l.  Translucent ;  resinous.  Grey, 
yellow,  brown.  C.c:  48-4  protoxide  of 
lead,  61  '6  tungstic  acid.  Keswick,  Zinn- 
wald,  Coquimbo  (Brazil). 

363.  Reinite,  JeW .  Fig.  417  (sp.  351). 

Pyramidal.  P  103°  32f^  basal  angle  122°  8'.  CL  ooP.  H.=4; 
G.  —  6'64.  C.c:  protoxide  of  iron  234,  tungstic  acid  76-45.' 
Eimbosan  in  Japan. 

864.  Wolframite,  (S-e,  An)  Vt. 

Obliqne  prismatic,  C  89°  22'.      ooP  tU]  100°  37',  -  *P<>oo  (P'l 

:'     54'.      Pem       I,l\     OS"     a'        - '>  •    ■  ■ ■-•      "      -      ^     ' 


»P»2    (6), 


Kg.  418. 


61°  54',  P«co  («)'  98°  6',  a.P<o  (r), 
i2P«2(s).  Twins  common.  Also  lamjnar. 
CL  cUnodiagonal,  perfect;  fracture  un- 
even. H.-5  to  6-5;  G.-71  to  7-5. 
Opaque;  resinous,  metallic,  adamantine 
on  the  cleiva^.  Brownish  black ; 
streak  black  (varieties  with  most  iron)  to 
reddish  brown  (most  manganese).  C.  c. : 
76  tungstic  acid,  9-5  to  20  protoxide  of 
iron,  and  4  to  15  protoxide  of  manganese, 
in  some  with  I'l  niobic  acid.  East 
Pool,  Cambrae,  and  mines  near  Redruth; 
Godolphin's  Ball  in  Cumberland  ;  Alten- 
berg,  Gcyer,  Ehrenfriedersdorf,  Schlag- 
genwald, Zinnwald,  the  Harz ;  also 
Urals,  Ceylon,  and  North  America. 
FerbcrUe,  with  26  protoxide  of  iron 

and2^eW-fl?e(a-*to-4-6;  6.-67  to  6-8),  from  Spain,  may  ba 

different. 

365.  HiJBNERiTB,  MnW. 

Eight  prismatic  ooP  (if),  if:  if  105°.  01.  o.?oo ,  perfect  ■ 
usually  foliated  or  columnar.  H. -4-5;  G. -7-14.  Adamantineon 
cleavage  ;  elsewhere  greasy.  Brown-red  ;  streak  yellow-brown. 
C.c :  protoxide  of  manganese  23-4,  tungstic  acid  76  6.  Mammoth 
district  in  Nevada, 

ANHYDROUS  PHOSPHATES,  ARSBNIATES,  AND 
TANADIATES. 

366.  Xekotime,  "i^P. 

PyramidaL  P  82°  22'  middle  angle;  pokr  anele  124°  30' 
Crystals  P;  »? ;  ooPoo.  CL  loP. 
H. -=4-6;  G. -4-6  to  4-55.  Translucent 
in  thin  splinters ;  resinoos.  Yellowish 
and  flesh-red.  C.c:  62  yttria,  and  88 
phosphoric  acid  ;  but  some  with  8  to  H 
cerium  protoxide.  Lindesnaes  and  Hit- 
tero  in  Norway,  Ytterby  (Sweden), 
Georgia,  and  ( Wiseriiu)  St  Gotthaii 

367.  Crtptolitr,  Cej^'j. 
Acicular  crystals,  embedded  in  apatita 

G.  =  4-6.  Transparent.  Pale  wine-yellow.  Powder  soL  in  con- 
s.  acid.  Wbhler  found  7370  cerium  protoxide,  27-37  phosphoric 
acid,  and  1-51  iron  protoxide.  Occurs  in 
the  apatites  of  granite  in  Scotland,  biSt  not 
in  those  of  limestones.     Also  at  ArendaL 

368.  MoNAziTE,  (Ce,  La,  'fh),?,. 
Oblique   prismatic,    C  76°   14'.      ooP  93° 

23' ;  crystals  (fig.  420)  generally  thick  or 
tabular.  CI.  basal,  perfect;  translucent  on 
edges.  Flesh-red  and  reddish  brown.  C.c: 
28  phosphoric  acid,  87  to  46  cerium  prot- 
oxide, 24  to  27  lanthanum  oxide;  that  from 
Zlatoust  from  18  to  32-5  of  thoria.  Notero 
in  Norway,  Miask,  Norwich  in  Connecticut,  and  the  Rio  Chico  ia 
Colombia.  Tuneritc,  from  Dauphin^  in  complex  transparent 
honey-yellow  crystals,  ia  manazit«, 


Kg.  419  (sp.  366). 


Kg.  420  (sp.  368). 


404 


MINERALOGY 


369.  TRiPiiTLITE^(2I'c  +  Lij)P,. 

Kight  [irismatic.  ooP  133°;  chiefly  granular.  H.— 6;  O.— 3'6. 
Ko!<inous.  Greenish  grey  with  blue  spots.  Co.:  iron  protoxide  40, 
ni.iui^auese  protoxide  6*6,  littna7'5,  itliosphoric  acid  45.  Boden- 
iiiui»  in  Havuria.  Nom'ich  in  Massachusetts.  LilhiophiliU^  from 
Fairfield  (Connecticut),  is  a  mnngancsian  triphylite. 

370.  BFKZE1.I1TE  (fuAni'te),  (CaligjjAa, . 

MiLssivo.  H. -5  to  6;  G. -2-62.  Co.:  lime  23,  magnesia  15, 
arsenic  acid  60.     Sol.  in  n.  acid.     LAngban  (Sweden). 

371.  Arseniatf.  OF  Nickel,  KijAa,. 

Amorphous.  H. -4",  G.  —  4  98.  Sulphur-yellow.  C.c:  oxide  of 
nickel  48*2,  arsenic  acid  50'5.     Johann-Georgenstadt. 

372.  NiOKKLEIU!,  lfij'A's3  +  21^i. 

Crystalline  massive.  G.  — 484.  Dark  grass-green  ;  streak  lighter. 
Co.:  oxide  of  nickel  021,  arsenic  acid  36  6.    /ohann-Georgenstadt. 

373.  Dechenite,  (rb2;n)V,. 

Botryoidal  and  stahctitic.  H. -3  to  4;  G-5-8'2.  Lustre 
resinous  to  greasy.  Yellowish  red,  deep  red  ;  streak  orange  to  pale 
yellow.  C.C.:  677  oxide  of  lead,  15  8  oxide  of  zinc,  24  2  of  vanadic 
acid.     Wanlockhcad,  Freiburg  (in  Baden),  Lauter  Valley. 

374.  PsiTTACiNiTE,  3(l''b,V,)  +  <5ujVj -H eCnii, . 
Manimillated   and   incrusting.      Siskiu-   to   olive-green.      C.c: 

vanadic  acid  19'3,  le.id  oxide  53'2,  copper  oxide  18'95,  water  868. 
Silver  Star  (Montana). 

375.  Pucherite, 'Bi,V.. 

Right  prismatic  ooI'i23°55'.  H.  -  4;  G.-6-25.  01.  basal,  per- 
fect; vitreous.  Kod  or  reddish  brown;  streak  yellow.  Easily  soluble 
inacids.    C.c:  bismuth  oxide71'7,  vanadic  acid  2S'3.    Scbneeberg. 

376.  Atopite,  Ca..Sb , . 

Cubic  (figs.  30  witli  26  and  33).  H.  -5-5  to  6;  0.-6.  Lustre 
greasy;  yellow  to  resln-browo.  Translucent  C.c:  antiinonic  acid 
73  2,  lime  17'5,  iron  protoxide  2'7,  magnesia  15,  soda  4  3.  L&ng- 
ban  (Wermlaud). 

HYDROUS  PHOSPHATES,  io. 

377.  Brusiiite,  {SCa-nftj)3'P'.-Hft,. 

Oblique  prismatic,  C  62°  46'.  Needle  crystals.  H. -2  to  2-5; 
C.-2'21.  Vitreous.  Co.:  liroc  320,  phosphoricacid  41'3,  water 
tu'i,     Aves  Islands  and  Sombreio  (Antilles). 

378.  Newdertite,  MgjH.,  '\\  -f  6flj . 

Hightprismatic.  CI.  brachydiagonal.  C.c:  phosphoric  acid  41 '25, 
magnesia  23,  water  357.     From  guano,  Skipton  Caves,  Victoria, 

379.  Haidingerite.  Ca^As, -h  3H,  . 

Eight  prismatic  mP  100*.  CI.  perfect  j  sectile,  flexible. 
H.  -2  to  2  5  ;  G.  -2-8  to  29.  Otherwise  like  pharmacolite  (sp. 
BSl).    C.c. :  85-68arscniateoflimc,andl4'32  water.    JoachimsthaL 

3S0.  RosELrrE,  SjAsj-f  2Hj. 

Anorthic.  CL  macrodiagonal.  Rose-red  ;  streak  white.  H.  — 
35;  G.  -3-46.  C.c:  25  5  lime,  103  cobalt  oxide,  3'6  magnesia, 
62  i  arsenic  acid,  8'2  water.     Schncoberg. 

331.  Pharmacolite,  2CaA's.-f  cH.. 

Oblique  prismatic,  C  65°  4'  (fig.  421).  ooP  (/)  117°  24',  -  P  (J) 
139°  1?', -»P  (n)  141°  8',  tPOo)  (o) 
83°  14',  ooP-S  (?)  167°  6'.  Crystals 
generally  acicular  and  radiated.  CI. 
cUnodingcnal,  perfect ;  sectile  and 
flexible.  H.-2  to  2-6;  G.-2-6  to 
28.  'Translucent;  vitreous.  Pearly 
white.  Yields  water  in  the  closed 
tube.  C.c:  arsenic  acid  51,  lime  25, 
water  24.  Audreasberg.  Biebsr,  Mnr- 
kircben,  Wtticben.    Generally  mixed  with  orythrite 

382.  ■Wapflerite,  2daAs-f  Sfl,. 
Anorthic;  coP' (m),  ooT  (.1/),  o.P'2 

(«),  a.'P.2(i^,  .I'oo  (d),  'P,»  (D), 
3,f'a>  ((),  S'?,*  (T),  2r'2  (p),  3f'4  (y), 
3'1'}  (<7),  4?4  («),  2,^2  (-).  oof-*  (h) 
(fig.  422);  also  incrusting  and  globular. 
01.  clinodiagonnl.  H.  -  2  to  2-5 ;  O.  - 
2  48.  Colourleas.  Vitreous.  C.c: 
lime  15  6,  magnesia  7 '4,  arsenic  acid 
47  6,  waUr  89-5.     .loaohimsthal. 

383.  HoRKMiTB,  MgjAs-t-SH,.  Kig.  422  (sp.  3S2). 
Oblique  prismatic.      o.P  lO/*.      H. 

-5tol-    5  -2-47.     Vhito.     Trau«luc«nt ;   pearly.     C.c:   24-3 
magnesia'.  2914  water,  46  56  arsenic  acid.    ProUhlylromHungmrr. 


d'^fy' 

.V 

i 
ir 

\  ** 

T 

\ 

r 

l^y^ 


.  423. 


(T).rco  (J/)  J 


384.  Vn-IAh-iTE,  3Felf',-^8li,. 

Oblique  prismatic,  0  75°  34'.  JbP  (in)  108°  2' ;  P  (f)  120*  26*, 
P°oo(k!)  64°  40'.  CrysUls  prismatic  (figs.  423,  4241 ;  also  fibrons 
or  earthy.  CL  clino- 
diagonal,  perfect ;  thin 
laminaj  flexible.  H. -2; 
G. -2-6  to  '27.  Trans- 
lucent or  transparent  ; 
vitreous,  or  bright  pearly 
on  cleavage.  Indigo- 
blue  to  bl.ickish  green ; 
streak  bluish  white,  but 
soon  becomes  blue  on 
exposure.  C.c:  S3"l 
iron  protoxide,  12"2  iron 
peroxide,  29  phospho 
acid,  and  2" 
Transparent 

coloured  crystals  at  St 
Agnes  in  Cornwall,  and 
AUentown  and  Inileytown  in  New  Jersey  ;  earthy  in  Cornwall, 
Styria,  North  America,  Greenland,  and  New  Zealand  ;  and  in  peat 
mosses  in  northern  Germany,  Sweden,  Norway,  and  Shetland. 

3S5    Svmplesite,  te^Ks^  +  SU,. 

Oblique  prismatic ;  in  minute  acicular  crystals.  CL  ditto- 
diagonal.  H.— 2"5;  G.  —  2"96.  Vitreous.  Cleavage  face  pearly. 
Celadon-green  to  pale  indigo  ;  streak  bluish  white.  Lobenstciu 
in  Reuss,  and  Lolling  in  Carinthia. 

386.  Erythrite,  CojAsj-l-8Hj. 
Oblique  prismatic,  C  55°  9'.     ooP'^oo  (P),  ooP", 

also  ooP3  (t),  and  P  (/)  118°  23'  (fig.  425). 
CL  clinodiagonal  [P),  perfect ;  sectile ;  thin 
lominn:  flexible  H.  -  1  5  to  25;  0.-29 
to  3.  Translucent ;  vitreous,  pearly  on  the 
cleavage.  Crimson  or  peachblo-ssom-red.  C.c; 
38-2  arsenic  acid,  37-8  cobalt  protoxide,  2-1 
water,  but  often  with  nickel  9.  CornwnlL 
Alston  in  Cumbcrlond,  Alva  in  Stirlingshiie. 
Schneeberg,  Saalleld,  Allemont,  Rieclielsdorf, 
the  Pyrenees,  and  lloduni  in  Norway. 
KcMtUschlag  or  Earthy  Incrusting  Cobalt, 
rcniform,  is  a  mixture  of  er\-lhrine  with  arseni- 
ous  acid.  Lairtidulan,  thin  rcniform  lavender- 
blue  crusts,  translucent,  resinous,  or,  vitreous 
(H. -25  to  3;  0.-295  to  3  1),  consisting  of 
arsenic  acid,  protoxides  of  cobalt,  nickel,  and  copper, 
from  Annaberg. 

387.  KoTTioiTE,  {in,  Co,  l}i),A"sj-f8ll. 

Oblique  prismatic  ;  massive  or  in  crusts,  with  crystalline  surface 
and  fibrous  structure.  01.  clinodiagonal,  perfect  H.  — 2'5  to  3; 
G. -3  1.  Lustre  of  fracture  silky.  Colour  light  carmine  and  pcach- 
blossom-rod,  of  different  shades  ;  streak  reddish  white.  Translucent 
to  subtransluccnt  C.c:  30  52  tine  oxide,  6  91  cobalt  oxide,  3 
nickel  oxide,  with  arsenic  acid.     Schneeberg. 

388.  Annabergite  (.Vid«I  Ockre),  Sij.is -I- 8H, . 

Oblique  prismatic  ;  in  capillary  crystals,  also  earthy  ;  sectile 
H.  -2  to  2-5  ;  G  -3  to  31.  Dull  or  glistening.  Api>le-grecu  or 
greenish  white;  streak  greenish  white  and  shining.  C.c;  387 
arsenic  acid,  37  3  nickel  protoxide,  and  24  water,  but  with  a  littlo 
cobalt  or  iron.  LcadhiUs,  Pibble  in  Kirkcndbriglit,  Audreasberg, 
Saalfold,  Riechelsdorf. 

SS9.  LuDLAMiTE,  Pe72P,  +  9H,. 

Oblique  prismatic,  C  79°  27'. 
(fig.  426).  01.  OP,  perfect 
H. -3-5;  G. -312.  C.c: 
53  06  oxide  of  iron,  29  83 
phosphoric  acid,  17'0  water. 
ComwalL 

S90.    FiLLOWITE,     S(ft,^,)  +  H3 

Oblique  prismatic,  C  89°  51'; 
pscudo-rhombohedral.  P;-2P8;0P.  01.  basal.  H.-4-5;C. 
-343.  Resinous  to  greasy.  W.ix-veUow  to  red-brown,  oi 
colourless;  streak  white;  translucent  fc.c:  phosphoric  acid  40-2, 
iron  protoxide  6'S.  manganese  protoxide  40*2,  lime  5"2,  soda  58, 
water  17.     Branchville  (Connecticut). 

391.  HcREACiiTE,  5(Mn,  fe)2P,-l-5rt5. 

Oblique  prismatic,  0  S9°  27'.  ooP  61°.  Fracture  conchoidaL 
E.-3-5;  G. -5  2.  Translucent;  resinous.  Reddish  yellower 
brown.  B.  B.  fuses  easily  to  a  black  metallic  globule.  Soluble  in 
acids.  C.c  :  39  phosphoric  acid,  8  iron  protoxide,  12  manganese 
protoxide,  and  12  water.     Hurcaux  near  Limoges. 


oP  131°  23':  OP;   P  111°  29' 


Fig.  426  (sp.  SS9). 


MINERALOGY 


405 


BeUmiU.  H.  —  5;  G. -3'5.  Opaqoe  ;  Titreous  or  resinons. 
Dark  Tiolet  or  blae  to  greenish  erey  ;  streak  violet-blue  or  crim- 
son-red. Contains  more  iron  anil  less  manganese  than  the  above. 
Hnreanz. 

392.  DiCKi.vsONITE,  4(ft,Pi)-H3fir,.  . 

Obliqne  prismatie,  C  60°  30'.  Crystals  tabular.  CI.  basal,  per- 
fect H. -3'5  to  4;  G. -3  34.  Vitreous;  pearly  on  cleavage. 
Olive-  to  oil-green,  and  grass-green;  streak  white.  Transparent; 
brittle.  Co.:  phosphoric  acid  40,  iron  protoxide  12'7,  manganese 
protoxide  25,  Ume  11-8,  soda  6-6,  water  3 '8.  Branchville  (Con- 
necticnt). 

393.  TaiPLorDiiTE,  (Jln,  Fe)^P,+fij(Ai,  te),. 

Oblique  prismatic,  C  SI'  56'.  Generally  fibrous ;  transparent ; 
resinous  to  adamantine.  H.  —  4  6  to  5 ;  G.  —  3  7.  Yellowish-brown. 
C.C.:  4845  oxide  of  manganese,  1488  protoxide  of  iron,  321  phos- 
phoric acid,  4  1  water.     Fairfield  (Connecticut). 

S91.   FilaPtELDtTE,  kyV,+  2tl,. 

Anorthic;  usually  foliaceous.  H.-3'5;  G. -3-15.  WTiit*  to 
straw-yellow  ;  streak  white.  Pearly  to  brilliant-adamantine  on 
cleavage.  Transparent ;  brittle.  C.c:  phosphoric  acid  38  4,  iron 
protoxide  56,  manganese  protoxide  15 "6,  lime  30,  soda  7,  water 
:0.     Fairfield  (Connecticut). 

395.  Chondrabsen'ite,  MnjAJs^  +  lfij. 

In  small  grains.  H.  =S.  Yellow  to  reddish-yellow.  Trans- 
lucent ;  brittle ;  fracture  conchoidaL  Faisberg  mines  (Werm- 
land). 

H96.  Reddisoite,  &n^,,+SU,. 

Right  prismatic.  P  ;  P2  ;  o»?oo.  H. -3  to  35;  G.  =31. 
Vitreous;  rose-pink  to  yellowish  white.  Translucent;  fracture 
uneven;  brittle.  C.c. :  phosphoric  acid  S4'£,  iron  protoxide  5 •43, 
manganese  protoxide  46 '3,  lime  '8,  water  13  1.     Branchville. 

397.  SCOEODITE,  Fe,As.j  +  4Hj. 

Right  prismatic  P  with  polar  edges  102°  52"  and  114°  40*. 
Crystals  P  (p),  ooPoo  (o),  and  ooPoo  (6) ;  also  OP,  4P  (i),  ooP  («), 
2P2  (j),  ooP2  (<0  120°  10',  and  iVon  (m) 
132'  (fig.  4*27);  also  columnar  and  fibrous. 
CI.  imperfect;  brittJo.  H. -35  to  4; 
G.  =31to3'2.  Translucent:  vitreous. 
Leek -green  to  greenish  black,  also  indigo- 
blue,  red,  and  brown.  B.B.  fuses  easily, 
with  arsenical  odour,  to  a  grey  magnetic 
slag.  Sol.  in  h.  acid,  to  a  brown  solution. 
C.c. :  498  arsenic  acid,  34  6  iron  peroxide, 
and  15  6  water.  St  AustcU  in  Comw.ill, 
near  Limoges  in  France,  Schwarzenberg, 
Lolling  in  Carintliia,  Brazil,  and  Siberia. 

398.  Stresgite,  'Fe.P,-i-4H2. 
Right  prismatic.  P  with  polar  edges 
101°  38'  and 
115°  36',  mid- 
dle edge  111° 
30'.  ooP2  (rf) 
and  00  Poo  (r), 
P  (P),  OP  (A), 
2r'oo  (m)  48° 
(fig.  42$).  Cry- 
stals go  iiei-ally 
r,  P,d;  r  do- 
minant CL  r.  H.  -  3  to  4  ;  G.  -2-87. 
Cherry-red.  Translucent  C.c. :  prot- 
oxide of  iron  4318,  phosphoric  acid 
37-42,  water  19  4.  Rock  Bridge  (Vir- 
ginia). Fig.  428  (sp.  398). 

399.  DtrTREHiTE  (KrauriU),    2FejP,  +  3fl,. 

Right  prismatic  ooP  about  123'.  Spherical  or  reniform.  CL 
brachydiagonal ;  brittle.  H.  =3  to  3  5  ;  G.  =3-3  to  3-4.  Trans- 
lucent on  the  edges,  or  opaque ;  shining  or  dull.  Dirty  Icek-green 
or  blackish  green;  streak  siskin-green.  C.c  :  63  iron  peroxide, 
28  phosphoric  acid,  and  9  water.  WesterwalJ,  Hirschberg,  and 
Limoges 

400  ■Berjutvite,  5Fej3pj  +  14Hj. 

<«cur8  in  small  foliated  and  columnar  aggregates.  CI.  plane 
metallic  pearly.  H. -2  ;  G. -2878.  Colour  hyacinth-red  to 
reddish  brown  ;  streak  dirty-yellow.  C.c  :  54-5  peroxide  of  iron, 
■-'8 -65  phosphoric  acid,  and  16  55  water.  Bohemia,  Scheibenberg 
in  84xonj. 


Fig.  427  (sp.  397). 


401.  Eleonoeite,  3'Fe^■p,■^8fi,. 

Oblique  prismatic,  C  48°  33'.  Twin  face  the  orthopinacoid.' 
CT.  a.P°oo.  H. -3  to  4.  Dark  hyacinth-red  ;  streak  yellow. 
Vitreous  to  pearly.  C.c  :  5194  peroxide  of  iron,  31 '88  phosphoric 
acid,  16 '37  water.     Eleonore  mine  near  Bieber. 

402.  Cacoxeke,  2Fe,Pj-i-12H,. 

Radiated  tufts,  of  a  brownish-yellow  colour.  H.  —  3  to  4  ; 
G.  -  3  -38.  Sol.  in  h.  acid.  From  the  Hrbeck  mine  near  Zbirow  in 
Bohemia. 

403.  Phabmacosidebite  {Ouie  Ore),  4fej3AJ9,-H6lij. 

Cubic  and  tetrahedral ;  osnally  ooOoo ,  with  ^,  or  ooO.    Brittle. 

H.  ■=2-5;  G. -2-9  to  3.  CL  oiOoo.  Semitransparent  to  translu- 
cent ;  adamantine  or  reainona.  Olive-  to  emerald-green,  honey- 
yellow,  and  brown  ;  streak  straw-yellow.  Pyro-electric  C.c:  43 
arsenic  acid,  40  iron  peroxide,  and  17  water.  Carharrack  in  Corn- 
wall, Burdle  Gill  in  Cumberland,  Lobenstein  in  Reuss,  Schwarzen- 
berg in  Saxony,  North  America,  and  the  gold  quartz  of  Australia. 

404.  Calaite  {Turquoise),  2(mJP,  +  5H,. 

Massive,  reniform,  or  stalixctitic  ;  fracture  conchoidal.  H.  =  6  ; 
G.  —  2  6  to  2  8.  Opaque  or  translucent  on  the  edges  ;  duU  or  vzxy. 
Sky-blue,  greenish  blue,  rarely  green ;  streak  greenish  white. 
C.c  :  47  alumina,  32'5  phosphoric  acid,  and  20'5  water,  but  mixed 
with  phosphate  of  iron  and  copper.  Silesia,  Lu^atia,  and  ReusSL 
Oriental  turquoise,  in  veins,  at  Meshed,  near  Herat ;  in  pebbles  in 
Khoras.-in,  Bokhara,  and  Syrian  desert  Takes  a  fine  polish,  and 
is  valued  as  an  ornamental  stone,  but  is  destroyed  by  oil,  and 
deteriorated  by  soap. 

405.  VrATELUTE(iaitontfe),3Alj2i'3  +  12H,. 

Right  prismatic  ooP  126°  25  ;  Foo  106°  46'.  Crystals  ooP» 
(P),  ooP  (d),  Poo  (o)  (fig.  429) ;  but  generally  small,  acicnlar,  and 
in   radiated-hemispherical  and  stellate-fibrous  masses.     CL  alon;; 

ooP  and  Poo ,  perfect   H.  -  3  5  to  4  ;  G.  -  2  -3  to  2  5.    Translucent ; 

Titreous.     Colourless,  but  generally  yellowish  or  greyish,  . j. 

sometimes  green  or  blue.     C  c. :  38  alumina,  35 '3  phos-  Kj^qX 

phoric  acid,  and   267   water;    but  generally  traces  of  I  [.  I  I 

jluoric  acid  (2  per  cent).     Shiant  Islands  and  Glencoe  li      I  I 

in  Scotland,  Barnstaple,  St  Austell,  near  Clonroel  and  \_HJ 
Portrush,  Beraun  in  Bohemia,  Amberg  in  Bavaria  ;  also 

in  New  Hampshire  and  Tennessee.  C'<rrula>lactin,  from  ''8-  *~- 
Nassau,  has  two  equivalents  less  of  water. 

406.  Variscite, 'a1jPj-h4H,. 

Right  prismatic  ;  reniform  ;  conchoidal  fracture.  H.  =  4  to  5  ; 
G.  ="234  to  238.  Apple- and  emerald-greenj  streak  white.  C.c: 
32'4  alumina,  44*85  phosphoric  acid,  2274  water.  Messbach  in 
Reuss,  Montgomery  county  in  Arkansas. 

ZepharomchiU  from  Bohemia  contains  one  equivalent  more  water  j 
Era-iuiU  from  Hungary  two  equivalents  more. 

407.  FiSCHEElTE,  2'AljJ'j-H8lij.  , 

Right  prismatic  ooP  118*  32';  generally  in  crystalline  crusts. 
H.  =  5;  G.  —  2*46-  Grass- and  olive-green.  Vitreous  lustre.  C.c: 
alumina  42,  phosphoric  acid  29,  water  29.     Nijni-Tagilsk. 

408.  Peca-Vite,  2Ai,Pj-H6H2. 

Right  prismatic  ooP  127°.  In  thin  reniform  crusts,  of  fibrous 
structure.  H. -3to4;  G. -249  to  254.  Grass- and  emerald- 
green.  Vitreous  or  greasy  lustre.  C.c  :  alumina  45,  phosphoric 
acid  31  3,  water  23  7.     Striegis  in  Saxony. 

409.  HoPEITE,  Znji»  +  4Hj. 

Right  prismatic  oop2  82°  20';  P  with  polar  edges  106°  36'  and 
140°.  CL  macrodiagonal,  perfect  H.  =  25  to  3  ;  G.  =  276  to  285. 
Vitreous  or  pearly.  Greyish  white.  C.c:  oxide  of  zinc  35'21, 
phosphoric  acid  31*1,  water  15'8.     Altcnberg. 

410.  Adamite,  4ZnAs,-fHj. 

Right  prismatic      ooP  91°  52'.     CL  macrodomic      H.  =3-5; 
G.  =  4  *34.    Lustre  vitreous.    Colonr  honey- 
yellow  to'  violet ;    streak  white.      Trans- 
parent    C.c:  oxide  of  zinc  56 '6,  arsenic 
acid  40  2,   water  3  2.      Cape  Garonne 
France,  Chanarcillo  in  Chili 


411.    LlBEfHESITE  4CuPj-H6H3. 

Right  prismatic.  o.P  (u)  92°  20',  f « 
(o)  109°  52',  and  P  (fig.  430).  H.-4; 
G.- 3  6  to  3  8.  Translucent  on  the  edges; 
resinous.  Leek,  olive-,  or  blackish-green; 
streak  olive-green.  C.c.  :  66  copper  prot- 
oxide,  30  phosphoric  acid,  and  4  water.  ''i-  *'"  (»P-  *"'• 
GonnisUke  (Devon),  Libethen  (Hungary),  Nijni-Tagilsk. 


406 


M  I  N.E  B  A  L  0  a.Y 


412.  OLrvENiTE,  46a  (A'sj^'j  +  ll,. 

Right  prismatic.  »(P)  (r)  92°  SV,  f<o  (/)  110'  60',  oopoo  (n) 
(fig.  431);  also  spherical  and  reniform,  and 
columnar  or  fibroofl,  CL  (r)  and  (Z),  im- 
perfect. H. -3;  G. -4-1  to  4-6.  Pellncid 
ia  all  de^eea ;  vitreous,  resinous,  or  silky. 
Leek-,  olive-,  or  blackish-green,  also  yellow 
or  brown  ;  streak  olive-green  or  brown. 
B.B.  in  the  forceps  fuses  easily  to  a  dark 
brown  adamantine  bead,  covered  with 
radiating  crystals ;  on  charcoal  detonates, 
emits  arsenical  vapours,  and  is  reduced.  [         j 

Sol.  in  acids  and  ammonia.  C.c. :  56  "S 
copper  protoxide,  30 '6  crsenic  acid,  and  4 
water ;  but  alsp  1  to  6  phosphoric  acid. 
Carh^rack,  Tin  Croft,  Gwennap,  and  St 
Day  in  Cornwall ;  Alston  Moor,  Thuringia,  pj^  431 

Tyrol,  Siberia,  ChilL 

413.  Veszeltite,  SOu,  ei.n,  %,  A'sj  +  lSftj. 

Obliquo  prismatic,  C  103°  60'.  H.  -  3  -6  to  4 ;  G.  -  S-63.  Green- 
ish blue.  C.c. :  copper  37-34,  25-20  zinc  oxide,  10-41  arsenic  acid, 
9-01  phosphoric  aoi<t  17'05  water.     Moravicza  (Banat). 

414.  Desoloizite,  iPbY^+H,. 

Right  prismatic.  ooP  116°  26'.  H. -S'S  ;  G. -5-88  to  61. 
Olive-brown  to  blaok.  C.c.  :  56-48  oxide  of  lead,  16-6  oxide  of  zinc, 
1-16  oxide  of  manganese,  2274  vanadic  acid.  Sierra  de  Cordoba 
ia  the  Argentine  Republic. 

415.  VOLBOBTHITE,   4{(5u,  Ccl)  Vj  +  Hj. 

Hexagonal ;  small  tabular  crystals,  OP ,  <»P,  single  or  in  groups. 
Generally  massive.  H. -3;  G. -3-45  to  3 -89.  Olive-green; 
streak  almost  yellow.  B.B.  on  charcoal  fuses  easily  and  forms  a 
graphite-like  slag,  containing  grains  of  copper.  Sol.  in  n.  acid,  and 
with  water  gives  a  brick-red  precipitate.  C.c. :  37  to  38  vanadic 
acid,  39-4  to  46  copper  oxide,  18-5  to  13  lime,  3-6  to  5  water. 
Sissersk  (Urals),  Nyni-Tagilsk,  and  Friedrichroda  in  Thuringia. 

416.  Tagilite,  4Cufj  +  3H,. 

Oblique  prismatic ;  but  botryoidal  and  radiating-fibrous,  or 
earthy.  H."-3;G.  — 4.  Emerald-green.  C.c. :  618  copper  prot- 
oxide, 27  7  phosphoric  acid,  and  10-5  water.  ,  Nijni-TagUsk,  and 
near  Hirschberg. 

417.  EOOHROITE,   4Cu'A3J■^7fl,. 

Right  prismatic.  ooP  (M)  117°  20',  t«)()i)  80°  62',  with  ool>2 
(/)  and  OP  (P)  (fig.  432).  Brittle.  H.  =3-5 
to  4  ;  G.  =  3  -35  to  3  45.  Translucent ;  vitre- 
ous. Emerald-  or  leek -green  ;  streak  vor- 
digris-gi'een.  B.B.  in  forceps  fuses  to  a 
greenish  brown  crystallized  mass.  Easily 
sul.  in  n.  acid.  C.c.  :  47  copper  protoxide, 
34  arsenic  acid,  and  19  water.  Libetheo  in 
H  ungary. 

418.  Erinite,  5Cuia,  +  2ft3. 
Reniformandfoliated;  conchoidal  fracture.  .,_, 

H. -4-5  to   5;  G.=4t<;4-1.  Translucent  on      Fi«.  432  (sp.  417). 
the  edges;  dull  resinous.     Emerald-  or  grass-green  ;  streak  similar. 
C.c:   59-9  copper  protoxide,   34-7  arsenic  acid,   and  6-4  water. 
Cornwall.     ComvKtllitc  has  3  or  6  of  water. 

419.  DlHTRITE,  6(JuV'.,  +  2H,. 

G.  -  4-4.  Oxide  of  copper  69,  phosphoric  acid  24-7,  water  6 -25. 
Rheinbreitenbach  and  Nijni-Tagilsk. 

420.  MOTTEAMI-FB,  bifia,  tb)V'j  +  2Hj. 

Black  crystalline  crusts;  streak  yellow.  H. —  S;  0.  —  5-9. 
C.c,  :  oxide  of  copper  20  4,  oxide  of  lead  7-2,  vanadic  acid  18-7, 
.water  3-7.     llottram  in  Cheshire. 

421.  EHLiTE5(iu'Pj  +  3fij. 

Right  prismatic  ;  botryoidal,  radiating,  foliated.  H.  —  1  "6  to  2  ; 
G.  =  3  -8  to  4  -27.  Translucent  on  the  edges  ;  pearly  on  the  cleavage. 
A'erdigris-green  ;  streak  paler.  C.c.  :  67  copper  protoxide,  24 
phosphoric  acid,  and  9  water.  Ehl  on  the  Rhine,  Nijni-Tagilsk, 
Libethou. 

422.  Tybolite,  6Cu'A'8j  +  9Hj. 

Right  prismatic.  CI.  basal,  perfect ;  reniform.  Radiate-folia- 
ceous.  H. -1-5  to2;  G. -3.  Lustre  pearly  on  cleavage  face.  Colour 
ai»ple-green  and  verdigris-green  to  sky-blue  ;  streak  paler.  Sub- 
translucent.  C.c.  :  oxide  of  copper  60S,  arsenic  acid  292,  water 
20-5.     Tyrol,  Hesse,  Thuringia. 

423.  PnospnoROoaALCiTE  (i«nntfe),  eCuK"^ -f  Sfl, . 

Obllaui-.  prismaUc.    CrystaU  mP**  (/}  38°  6«',   P  [P)  117'  «', 


with  OP  (o)  and  ooP'oo  («)  (fig,  433) ;  usually  gmall  and  indistinct; 

more  common  in  spherical  or  renifoi-m  and 

radiated-fibrouB masses.    H.  —  6;  G.  =>4-l 

to  4-3.    Translucent  throughout  or  on  the 

edges;  adamantine  to  resinous.    Blackish-, 

emerald-,  or  verdigris-green.     C.c. :  70-8 

copper  protoxide,  21-2   phosphoric  acid, 

and  8  water.    Cornwall,  Rneinbreitenbacb, 

Nijni-Tagilsk. 

424.  Clinoclase,  6(iuXa3-)-3H,. 
Oblique  prismatic,  C  80°  30'.     OP  (F), 

ooP(m)  66°,  JPoco  (a)  99°  30',  (r)  123°  48' 
(figs.  434,  435)  ;  and  hemisphericaL      CI. 
basal,  perfect.    H. -2-5to3;  0.-42  to  4-4. 
ous  ;    pearly  on  cl.      Dark 
verdigris-green  to  sky-blue ; 
streak    blue.       C.c.  :    62-6 
copper    protoxide,   30-3   ar- 
senic tioid,  7'1  water.    Corn- 
wall, Tavistock,  Erzgebixge. 

425.  MrxiTE. 
Oblique  prismatic  or  an- 

orthic  (?).  Radiating,  cen- 
trally granular.  osP  125°. 
H.  =3  to4;G.  =  2-66.  Eme- 
rr-ld-green    to    blue-green  ; 

streak  paler.  C.c:  43-21,,.  .„, ,  ._..  „.  .-k  /  iat\ 
copper  oride,  13  1  bismuth  ^'8-  «*  (^-  ^<'-  ^-  ^^5  (sp-  42*)- 
oxide,  30-45  arsenic  acid,  11-1  water.     GeLstergang,  JoachimsthaL 

426.  Rhaoite,   5Bij2i'3j-l-8Hj. 

Grape-like  groups  of  minute  crystals.  Colour  yellowish  green  ; 
streak  white.  Lustre  wax-like  ;  brittle.  H.  =5  ;  G. -6-82.  C.c; 
bismuth  oxide  79-5,  arsenic  acid  15 '6,  water  4-9.  Neostadtel 
near  Schneeberg. 

427.  Tkooerite,  3iJlsj-fl2Hj. 

Obliqiie  prismatic,  C  80°.  Crystals  thin  tabular.  Cl.  clino- 
diagonal,  perfect.  Lustre  pearly.  G.  —  3  3.  Lemon-yellow.  C.c: 
65-95  oxide  of  uranium,  17-56  arsenic  acid,  16-49  water.  In  closed 
tube  gives  off  water,  and  becomes  golden  brown,  but  again  yellow 
on  cooling.     Neustadtel. 

428.  Stbuvite,  (NH„  2Mg)  i?,-f  I2H3. 

Right  prismatic.    Poo   (a)  63°  7',  Poo  (c)  96°,  4? 00  (J)  30°  32', 

ooPa.  (7.).  JPco  (m)  123°,  OP  (0)  (fig. 
436).  Cl.  brachydiagonal,  perfect. 
H.  - 1  -5  to  2  ;  G.  - 1  -66  to  1  75.  Trans- 
parent or  opaque  ;  vitreous.  Colourless, 
but  yellow  or  brown.  C.c:  29-9  phos- 
phoric acid,  16-3  magnesia,  10-6  am- 
monia, and  44  water.  Under  St  Nicholas  I 
church  at  Hamburg,  and  in  guano  from 
South  America. 

429.  Arseniosideeite,  sCaAsJ-^3feJA!3J-^6flJ. 

Spherical  and  fibrous  ;  friable.  H. -1-2  ;  G. -3-52  to  8-88. 
Opaque  ;  silky.  Golden  yellowish  brown;  streak  yellowish  brown. 
C.c:  peroxide  of  iron  39  4,  lime  IS'S,  arsenic  acid  87  9,  water  8  9. 
Romanfeche  near  Macon. 

430.  Chaloosiderite. 

Anorthic     Light  green   crystals.     G.  =3-11.     C.c:   42-8   per- 
oxide of  iron,  8-1  oxide  of 
copper,      4-45     alumina, 
30-64     phosphoric    acid, 
15  water.     Cornwall. 

431.  Lazflite,  AljPj 

-KMg,  fe)3iV2fi3. 

Oblique  prism.itic,  C 
88°  2'.  ooP  91°  30',  P  (<) 
99°  40',  -  P  (p)  100°  20'. 
Crystals  often  tabular 
through  distortion ;  twins 
on  OP,  and  <»P°oo ;  also 
massive  ;   fracture   splint- 

eTo. -bto^S-l.^fran's-  ^ig.  437  (.<p.  431).-\  /ig.  438  (sp.  431). 
lucent ;  vitreous.  Indigo-  and  smalt-Wue  to  greenish  ;  streak 
white.  In  closed  tube  yii-lJs  water,  and  loses  colour.  Soluble  in 
acids  after  ignition.  C.c:  3r7  alumina,  10  magnesia, -6  prot- 
oxide of  Iron,  44  phosphoric  acid,  and  8  water.  Salzburg,  Styria, 
Brazil,  (Jeorciu,  Lincoln  in  North  Carolina. 


rig.  436. 


MINERALOGY 


407 


Fig.  439. 


432.  CaiLDBEinTE,2(te,an),3f''+Al3(>'+16S.  f-T^S-'U^kc. 
Eight  priamatic.     Polar  edges  101°  43',  130°  10',  middle  98°  44'; 

nsual  form  P,  2f«o,  ooPoo  («,  o,  P,  fig.  439). 
H.-4-5  to  6;  G.-318  to  33.  Translacent ; 
vitreous.  Yellowiflh  white  to  wine-  or  ochre-yellow, 
brown,  or  almost  black.  Cct:  30,7  iron  protojcide, 
9  manganese  protoxide,  14*6  alumina,  29  phos- 
phoric acid,  and  17  water.  Tavistock,  Crinnia 
and  Callington  (Cornwall). 

433.  EosPHOBiTE  (f'e,  Jin)jil,  ^+4fi. 

Eight  prismatic.  P  (p)  133°  32*  and  118°  56';  ooP  (i)  104°  19'; 
ooPco  (a),  oopco  (*),  oof  2  (g),  4? J  (g),  2^2  (<)  (polar  edges  130°  26' 
and  98°  42')  (fig.  440).  CI.  macro- 
diagonal.  H.-6;  G. -313.  Pale 
red.  Vitreoua.  C.c. :  22  alumina, 
7  4  protoxide  of  iron,  23 '5  oxide  of 
manganese,  31*5  phosphoric  acid, 
16"8  water.     Fairfield  (Connecticut). 

434.  LiEOOONITE,     Cuji's+'^lia 
+  24fi.  J 

Oblique  prismatic,  C  88°  33'.  ooP 
{d)  61°  31',  P'oo  (0)74°  21'  (fig.  349). 
H. -2  to  2-5;  G. -2-8  to  3.  Trans- 
lucent ;  vitreous  or  resinoua.  Arure 
blue  to  verdigria-green;  streak  paler 
C.c:  366  protoxide  of  copper,  11-9 
alumina,  26 '6  arsenic  acid.  24 '9  water, 
in  Hungary. 

435.  Chalcophtllite,      Cn5'is  +  12fi. 

Hexagonal  rhombohedral ;  E  69°  48'  (fig.  441).  CI.  basal,  perfect ; 
sectile.  H. -2  ;  G. -24  to  26. 
Transparent ;  vitreous  to  adamantine. 
Pearly  on  OE  (</).  Emerald-  to  grasa- 
andverdigi'is-green;  streak  pale  green. 
Soluble  in  acids  and  ammonia.     C.c:  i  .5.  i^^. 

protoxide  of  copper  49'6,  arsenic  acid  18,   water  32'4.     Eedruth 
in  Cornwall,  Saida  in  Saxony,  Moldawa  in  the  Banat. 

436.  Ueanite,  (Ca,  e.)  ''^  +  &ii. 

Eight  prismatic.  ooP'gO"  43';  P  middle  edge  127°  32'.  OP :  P 
116-14;  OP  :2Pool09°  6';  OP  :  2p«)  109*19'  (figs.  442,  443).  Crys- 
tals flat.  CI.  basal,  perfect;  sectile.  H.  —  1 
to  2;  G.  =3  to  3-2.  Translucent;  pearly  on 
OP.  Sulphur- yellow  to  siskin-green;  streak 
yellow.  C.c :  15*5  phosphoric  acid,  62*6 
uranium  peroxide,  61  lime,  and  15'8  water. 


Fig.  440  (sp.  433). 
Eedruth,  Herrengrund 


Fig.  442.  Fig.  413. 

Cornwall,  Antun  ami  Limoges  in   France,   Johann-Geoigenstadt 
and  Elbenstock  in  Saxony,  Chesterfield  iu  Massachusetts. 

437.  Ubanospinite,  (Ca,  ej)&-H8S. 

Eight  prismatic;  quadrangular,  scale- like  crystals.  CI.  basal, 
perfect.  H.  ■=  2  3 ;  G.  -  3  45.  Siskin-green.  C.  c. :  lime  5  '47,  sesqui- 
«zide  of  uranium  69'18.  arsenic  acid  19-37,  water  16'29.  Neu- 
stidtel. 

438.  UnAKOCIECiTE,  (Ba,  Bjp  +  sd. 

Yellowish  green  crystals,  isomorphous  with  437.  CL  basal. 
G.  -  3  -53.  C.  c  :  sesquioxide  of  uranium  56  -86,  baryta  14-57,  phos- 
phoric acid  15-1,  water  14.    Falkensteiu  in  Voigtland. 

439.  Chalcolite,  (Cu,  B.)  PtSS. 

Pyramidal.  P  middle  edge  142°  8';  Poo  128°  14'.  Crystals 
OP,  P,  toPco ,  P« .  CL  basal,  perfect ;  pearly  lustre  ;  brittle. 
H. -2  to  2-5;  G.  — 3-5  to  3-fi.  Grass-  to  emerald-  or  verdigris- 
green;  streak  apple-green.  C.c:  15-2  phosphoric  acid,  61 
uranium  peroxide,  8-5  copper  protoxide,  and  15-3  water.  Eed- 
ruth and  St  Austell,  Johann-Georgenstadt,  Elbenstock,  Schneeberg 
Bodenmais,  Baltimore. 

440.  ZELTfEKITE,   (Cu,  ISjis-f  8fi. 

pyramidal.  P  middle  edge  142°  6'.  OP :  P  109°  57'.  Crystals 
tabular.  CI.  basal.  H. -2-5;  G. -3-53.  Grass-green.  Lustre 
pearly.  C.c. :  77  oxide  of  copper,  55 '95  sesquioxide  of  uranium,  14 
water.  Huel  Gorland  in  Cornwall,  Neustadtel,  Joachimsthal, 
Zinnwald,  Wittichen.  •>. 


441.  WALPtjRoiTE,  SBiis-hSSis-hlOfi.. 

Anor'Jiic;  in  scaly  crystals.  Wa.\-yellow  to  pomegranate-red. 
Adamantine  to  greasy.  H. -35;  G. -.5-76.  C.  c :  sesquioxide  of 
bismuth  60-4,  sesquioxide  of  uranium  20-4,  ai-senic  acid  13,  water 
4  -5.    Neustadtel. 

442.  Plombgomme,  Pb,!?  +  6ftUft,. 

Reniform  or  stalaclitic  ;  fracture  conchoidal  and  splintery.  H.  — 
4  to  4-5;  G.-6-3  to  6-4.  Translucent;  resinous.  Yellowish' or 
greenish  white  to  reddish  brown.  C.c:  38  protoxide  of  lead  36 
alumina,  8  nhosphoric  acid,  and  19  water,  but  with  2  chloride  of 
lead.     Poulianouen,  Nuissiere   near  Beanjeu),  Georgia. 

COMPODNDS  OF  PHOSPHATES,  VaXADIATES,  AN»  AbsENIATBS 

■WITH  Haloid  Salts. 

443.  Apatite,  3CaP'+Ca{a,  F). 

Hexagonal  and  pyramidal-hemihedric  P  80°  26'.  The  most 
common  forms  are  ooP  (M);  t»P2(iO;  0P(m);  P(a;);  the  base  OP 
seldom  wanting  (figs.  92,  95,  96,  97,  98).  The  ci7Stals  are  short- 
prismatic  or  thick-tabular ;  also  granular,  fibrous,  or  com- 
pact ;  fracture  conchoidal  or  splintery ;  brittle.  H.  =  6  • 
G. -3-1  to  3-25.  Transparent  to  opaque;  vitreous  to  resinous.' 
Colourless  and  white,  but  generally  light  green,  grey,  blue, 
violet,  or  red.  C.c:  phosphate  of  liroo  (89  to  92-3),  with 
chloride  (to  11)  or  fluoride  (to  7-7)  of  calcium,  or  both.  Dissemi- 
nated in  granite,  gneiss,  mica  and  hornblende  slates,  primajy 
limestones,  and  trap  rocks  ;  also  in  beds  and  veins.  Sutherland, 
Rois,  and  Aberdeen,  in  granite  and  limestone;  Cumberland] 
Devonshire,  and  Cornwall;  in  tin-mines  in  Saxony;  Bohemia' 
St  Gotthard,  Tyrol;  Kragero  in  Norway,  New  York,  Canada. 

441   Pybomoephite,  3Pb,-P'' +  PbCl . 

Hexagonal ;  P  80°  44'.    Crystals  00 P,  OP,  with'  00 P2,  or  P  (it,  P,  x, 
fig.  444),  occasionally  thicker  in  the  middle,  or  spindle-shaped; 
also  reuiform  or  botryoidal ;  fracture  conchoidal  or  un-        d 
even.    H.  -35  to  4;  G.  -6-9  to  7.    Translucent;  resin- 
.ous  or  vitreous.     Colourless,  but  generally  grass-,  pis- 
tachio-, olive-,  or  siskin-gieen,  and  clove-  or  hair-brown, 
and   scarlet    (Leadhills).      C.c:    89-7   phosphate  and 
10-3  chloride  of  lead,    but  with  0  to  9   arseniate   of 
lead,  0  to  11  phospliate  of  lime,  and  0  to  1  fluoride  of 
calcium.      Elgin,  Wanlockhead,  also  Cornwall,  Derby- 
shire,   Yorkshire,    Durham,    Cumberland,    Wicklow ;    ^'B-  ^-'l- 
Przibram,  Mies,  and  Blcistadt  in  Bohemia  ;  Berezo'fl',  Phoenixville 
in  Pennsylvania,  and  Mexico. 

445.  ViSADiNiTE,  SPbj^  +  PbCI. 

HexaRonal;  P  78°  46'.  Forms  c»P,  OP  (0),  P(j),  2P,  *P(M),  o>P2, 
00 Pi,  2P2  (fig.  445).  Transparent  to 
opaque;  resinous.  Honey-yellow  to 
greyish  brown;  streak  white.  H.  —  3; 
G. -6-8to7-2.  C.c:oxideoflead70-63, 
vanadic  acid  19-35,  lead  7-2,  chlorine 
2-62.  Wanlockhead,  Windischkappel 
in  Carinthia,  Haldenwirthshaus  in 
the  Black  Forest,  Bolet  in  West-Got- 
land, Berezovsk,  Zimapan  in  ilexico, 
Cordoba  iu  the  Argentine  Kenublic. 

446.  UiMETEsiTE,  SPbsis  +  PbCI. 
Hexagonal  ;    P  81°   48'.     Crystals 

ooP,  OP,  P  (figs.  91,  444),  or  P,  OP. 
CI.  P;  fracture  conchoidal  or  uneven. 
H. -3-5  to  4;  G. -719  to  725. 
Translucent.  Colourless,  but  usually 
honey-  or  wax-yellow,  yellowish  green 
rr  grey.  C.c:  90-7  arseniate  and 
9-3  chloride  of  lead;  but  part  of  the  arsenic  occasionally  replaced  by 
phosphoric  acid.  Leadhills,  Huel  Alfred  and  Huel  Unity  in  Corn- 
wall, Roughten  Gill  and  Dry  Gill  in  Cumberland,  Beeralston  in 
Devonshire,  Jolianu-Georgeustadt,  Zinnwald,  Badenweiler,  St 
Prix  iu  France,  Nertchiusk,  and  Zacatecas  in  Mexico. 

447.  Wacn-eeite,  Mgji'  +  MgF. 

Oblique  prismatic,  C  C3°  25'.  ooP  67°  35'.  '  Cl.  prismatic,  and 
orthodiagonal  imperfect;  fracture  conchoidal  or  spliutery.  H.  —  5 
to  5-5;  G. —3  to  3-2.  Translucent  or  transparent;  i-esinous.  Wine- 
yellow  and  white  C.c:  43-3  phosphoric  acid,  11  4  fluorin*,  37-6 
magnesia,  and  7-7  magnesium  ;  but  with  3  to  4-5  ii-on  protoade 
and  1  to  4  lime.     Wcrfen  iu  Salzburg. 

443.  Teiplite,  (Fe,  iLOjJi  +  RF.   -s^ 

Oblique  prismatic ;  only  granular.  Cl.  in  two  directions  at 
right  angles;  fracture  conchoidal.  H. -5  to  6-S;  G. -3-6  to  3-8. 
Translucent  or  opaque;  resinous.  Chestnut-  or  blackish-brown; 
streak  yellowish  grey.  C.c:  iron  and  manganese  protoxides,  with 
83  phosphoric  acid,  and  7  or  8  fluorine.     Limoges,  Schlaggenwald.| 


Fig.  445  (sp.  445). 


408 


MINERALOGY 


449.  ZviESELITE,  (ifte,  ^n)s¥'  +  FeF. 

Right  prismatic  ?  but  only  massive.  CI.  basal,  perfect  H.  —  4*6 
to  5;  G.  —  3'9B  {o  4.  Brown;  streak  yellow.  (Xc. :  like  triplite. 
Zwicsel  in  Bavaria. 

450.  Amblyoonite,  'id^P^  +  (t\,  iii)J^'f  +  &W,  +  (U,  Na)F. 
Anortliitr,  crystals  rare;  coarse  granular.    CI.  OP,  pearly,  meeting 

t-.vo  others  at  105°  and  87°  40'.  Fracture  uneven  and  splintery. 
H.  =»6;  G.  =-3to3"l.  Translucent;  vitreous.  Greyish  or  greenish 
white  to  pale  mountain-green.  C.c. :  47 '9  phosphoric  acid,  34 '5 
alumina,  69  lithia,  6  soda,  and  8-3  fluorine.  Penig,  Arendal, 
Montebras  (Creuse,  France),  also  Hebron  and  Paris  in  Maine. 
M'jniabrasiCe  has  no  soda. 

451.  DuEANGiTE,  (R,)is  +  2NaF. 

Obliqus  prismatic;  crystals  like  keilhauite  (.sp.  669).  ooP  110°  lO'j 
P112°10'.  CI. prismatic.  H. -6;  G. -3-95  to4.  Bright  orange-red; 
streak  cream-yellow.  Vitreous.  C.c:  alumina  17 '2,  iron  protoxide 
9 '2,  arsenic  acid  53,  sod#  13 '1,  fluorine  77.     Durango  (Mexico). 

452.  Hekderite. 

Eight  prismatic.  P  polar  edges  77°  20'  and  141°  16';  ooP  115° 
53'.  Fracture  conchoidal.  H.  =6;  G.  =2-9to  3.  Translucent; 
vitreous,  inclining  to  resinous.  Yellowish  or  greenish  white. 
Ehrenfriedersdorf  in  Saxony.  An  anhydrous  phosphate  of  alumina 
with  lime  and  fluorine. 

Phospiiates  with  Sulphates  and  Bokates. 

453.  svanbergite. 

Rhombohedral ;  R  90°  35'.  H. -=4'6;  G.  =2-67.  Vitreous  to 
adamantine.  Honey-yellow,  reddish  brown,  and  rose-red  ;  streak 
reddish.  Subtransparent.  C.c:  37 '8  alumina,  6  lime,  17'3  sul- 
phuri":  acid,  12'8  soda,  17'8  phosphoric  acid,  68  water.  Horr- 
sjbberg  in  Werraland. 

454.  DiADociiiTE,  F'e3i';-H2FeS2-l-32H. 

Reniform  and  stalactitic  ;  fracture  conchoidal.  H.  «=S;  G.  *=1"9 
to  2.  Resinous ;  vitreous.  Yellow  or  yellowish  brown;  streak 
white.  C.c:  36"7  iron  protoxide,  14"8  phosphoric  acid,  16'2 
sulphuric  acid,  'and  30 '3  water.     Gratenthal  and  Saalfeld. 

455.  PiTTiciTE,  FejS3-l-2FeAs  +  24H. 

Reniform  and  stalactitic  ;  brittle;  fracture  conchoidal,  H.  =2"3; 
G.  ■='2"3  to  2  "5.  Translucent  throughout,  or  on  the  edges  ;  resinous 
to  vitreous.  Yellowish,  reddish,  or  blackish  brown,  sometimes  in 
spots  or  stripesj  streak  light  yellow  or  "<vhite.  C.c. :  35  iron  per- 
oxide, 26  arsenic  acid,  14  sulphuric  acid,  and  24  water.  In  many 
old  mines,  as  Freiberg  and  Schneebcrg. 

456.  Beudantite. 

Rhombohedral ;  R  61"  18'.  H.  =3'6;G.  =4.  Vitreous.  Olive- 
green  ;  streak  greenish  yellow.  C.c. :  oxide  of  iron  40 "69,  oxide  of 
lead  24-05,  sulphuric  acid  1376,  phosphoric  acidS'97,  water  977. 
Dernbach  in  Nassau,  Cork  in  Ireland. 

■JS7.    LijNEBUROiTE  (2Mg,'H)  ?-t-MgB  +  7H . 

Concretions  of  fibrous  structure.  C.c:  25 '2  magnesia,  29 '83 
phosphoric  acid,  1474  boracic  acid,  30*23  water.     Liinehurg. 

ARSENITES. 

458.  EoDEMiTE,  Pb5'A3j-f'2PbClj. 

Pyramidal,  CI.  OP.  H.  =2-5  to  3;  G.  =7-14.  Pale  green. 
Vitreous  on  cleavage  ;  resinous  on  fracture.  C.c:  oxide  of  lead  69*67, 
iead  22  2,  arsonio'as acid  10 *59, chlorine 7*68.  Ltogban  in  Wermland, 

459,  Trippkeite,  Cuis, 

Pyramidal;  P  111°  56',   Blue-green,   Lustrous,   Copiapo  in  Chili. 

SILICATES. 
Andalusite  Group, 
400,  Andalusite,  AlSi, 
Right  prismatic    coP  (m)  90°  60',  Poo  (r)  109°  4',  Poo  (s)  109°  51', 


Fig,  416,  Fig.  447. 

Also  columnar.   CL  m ;  fracture  splintery,  H,  -  7  to  7  B ;  G,  -  3  1  to 
8*2,    Pellucid;  vitreous.    Orey,  green,  red,  or  blue,    B,B,  infusible. 


Not  affected  iy  acids,    Cc:  alumina  63*1,  silica  36*9.   Clashnareo 
(figs,  446  to  449)  and  Clova  in  Aberdeenshire,  Mamoch  and  Botriph- 


Fig,  448,  Fig,  449, 

nie  in  Banfi'shire,  Killiney  Bay  in  Wicklow,  Andalusia,  Tyro! 
Penig,  Massachusetts,  Litchfield  in  Connecticut, 

ChiastolUc.  H.  =5  to  5*5;  G,  =3,  Pale  grey,  yellow,  green,  anc 
red,  A  compound  structure,  formed  of  four  double 
wedge-shaped  crystals,  aiTanged  in  contact  with  the 
angles  of  a  square  conoidal  crystal  placed  in  their 
centre,  and  imbedded  in  a  paste  of  clay  slate.  The 
section  of  the  compound  structure  forms  a  tesselated 
cross,  the  appearance  of  which  varies  with  the  portion  ^ 

of  the  crystal  which  is  cut,  Portsoy  (fig.  450)  and  "S-  «"• 
Boharm  in  Banfi'shire,  AVicklow,  Keswick  and  Skidda-.v,  Brittany, 
Pyrenees,  Maine,  New  Hampshire,  Nova  Scotia,  Canada. 

461.  Ctanite  (Disthene),  AJS'i". 

Anorthic  ;  generally  broad-prismatic  lengthened  crystals,  formed 
by  two  faces  (»n,  t).  m:t  106°  15'; 
m:»U5°41';iJ:m93°15'(fig,  451), 
Hemitropes  common,  united  by  m. 
Also  radiated,  Cl,  m,  perfect;  brittle, 
H,  =  7,  on  cl.  planes  5;  6,  =  3 -5  to 
3*7,  Pellucid;  vitreous,  Cl,  pearly. 
Colourless,  and  red,  yellow,  green, 
grey,  and  blue,  B,  B,  infusible. 
Kot  affected  by  acids.  C.c.  same  as 
andalusite.  Hillswick  in  Shetland, 
Mount  Battock,  Tarfside  (fig.  451), 
Botriphnie  (Banffshire),  Tyrol,  St 
Gotthard,  Bohemia,  Ponti-.-y  in 
^^''°'^«*  Fig.  451, 

462.  SiLLIMANITE,   AlSi . 

Right  prismatic  ;  ooPlll°.  Crystals  fibrcap.  columnar,  and  radi- 
ating. CL  macrodiagonaL  H. -7;  G.  =  3*2  to  3*26.  Translucent; 
resinous  ;  on  cl.  vitreous.  Greyish,  gi*eenish,  clove,  or  hair-brown. 
C.c.  and  chemical  characters  like  cyanite.  Tvedestrand,  Norway; 
Chester  and  Norwich,  Connecticut.  Al203,Si02  is  thusti*imoi-phous. 

Jlonrohte,  Xenoliie,  Buchohite,  Fihrolitc^  aud  BamZiU  are  varieties. 

463.  Topaz,  6'ilSi -f  AIF3 -h  SiFj . 

Right  prismatic,  ooP  {U)  124°  17',  2?oo  (n)  92°  42',  ooP2  (I)  OS" 
14',  P  (0),  Crystals  always  prismatic  (fig,  l'*!2),  often  hemimorphic. 
Cl,  basal,  perfect ;  fracture  conchoidal,  H,  =  8 ;  G,  ■=  3  *4  to  3  'G. 
Transparent ;  vitreous.  Colourless,  honey-yellow,  amber,  pink, 
asparagus-green,  blue.  Becomes  electric  by  heat  or  friction,  and 
the  yellow  colours  become  pink,  B,  B,  infusible.  Not  affected  by 
h,  acid  ;  by  digestion  in  s,  acid  gives  traces  of  fluorine.  The 
formula  requires  33*2  silica,  56*7  alumina,  ]7*6  fluorine.  Part  of 
the  o.xygeu  must  be  replaced  by  fluorine,  as  the  total  of  the  above 
is  107*4.  Ben-a-bourd  and  Arran,  Scotland  ;  Mourne  Mountains, 
Ireland;  St  Michael's  Mount,  Cornwall;  Siberia,  Saxony,  Bohemia, 
Connecticut,  Australia,  Ceylon,  Brazil,  Peru.  The  finest  topazes 
are  the  blue  from  Scotland  and  Siberia,  the  pink,  the  yellow 
from  Brazil,  and  the  colourless  from  Peru.  The  last-named  when 
cut  may  be  distinguished  at  once  from  diamond  by  their  elec- 
tricity. PijrophysalUc  is  a  massive  opaque  cleavable  variety  from 
Falun.  Pi/cnite  is  a  columnar  straw-yellow  to  "eddish  white 
variety    from    Zinnwald    in   Saxony  /• 

and  Durango  in  ilcxico.  f~^~T\ 

464.  Staurolite,  ('A'l,^F■e)gl-^(Fe,   \^ 
J'lg)  Si . 

Eight  prismatic.  ooP(m)  128°  42', 
Poo  (r)  70°  46',  ooPoo  (0),  of  (^)  (fig. 
452).  Twins  common,  as  figs.  140, 
144,  187,  453.      Cl.    brachydiagonal, 

perfect ;  fracture  conchoidal  to  snlin-  _>  „        ,„ 

tory,  H.  -7;  G.  -3*6  to  8*8.  Trans-  F«-  «2.  (8p.  464.)  F.g.  463. 
parent  to  ojmque  ;  vitreous  to  resinous.  Reddish  brown :  streak 
white.    B.  B.  iulusible.    Kot  atlected  by  h.  acid,  partially  b/  s.  acid« 


MINERALOGY 


409 


C.c. :  silica  30,  alumina  485,  with  5'S  iron  peroxide,  I25  iron 
protoxide,  3*5  magnesia ;  often  impure.  Bixeter  Voe  and  Unst  in 
Shetland,  Boharm  and  Marnoch  in  Banffshire,  StCotthard,  Greiner 
in  Tyrol,  Finistire,  Urals,  and  Korth  America.  XanlholiU  is  a 
jeilow  variety  from  Urquhart  (Inverness). 

466.  SAPrHiEiTE,  4Mg,  6iil,  2Si. 

Oblique  prismatic  ;  granular.  H.  —  7  to  8  ;  G.  —  3  4  to  8  5. 
Titrcous;  pale  blue  or  green;  translucent;  dichroic.  C.c. :  alumina 
63  2,  magnesia  19 '3,  silica  14 '9.     Fiskenaes  in  Greenland. 

ToURMAilNK  GhODP. 
466.  TOUEMALINE,  &,Si+fiSi. 

Rhombohedral;  E  133  10'.  Crystals  of  OE  (i'), -JR;  usually 
long  prismatic,  and  striated  (fig.  45,  and  249  to  252).  Generally 
hemimorphic ;  also  radiating  and  fibrous ;  fracture  conchoidal  to 
uneven.  H.— 6  5  to  7  5;  G. —3  to  3'3.  Black  varieties  opaque, 
othera  transparent ;  vitreous.  Generally  black  ;  but  colourless, 
yellow,  brown,  blue,  green,  and  rose-red ;  streak  white.  Different 
colours  often  disposed  in  layers  parallel  to  the  axis ;  and 
iwrtiona  of  one  crystal  differing  also  in  colour  along  the 
axis.  By  friction  acquires  positive  electricity;  and  becomes  elec- 
trically polar  when  heated.  Powder  insol.  in  h.  acid ;  imperfectly 
in  s.  acid.  C.c.  complex,  but  all  with  water  and  fluorine,  some  with 
boracic  acid.  Coarse  -black  columnar  varieties,  called  Schorl,  very 
common  in  granite  and  gneiss.  Black  occur  at  Portsoy  in  Banff, 
Clova,  Cabrach,  and  Rubislaw  in  Aberdeenshire,  Bovey  in  Devon- 
shire, St  Just  in  Cornwall,  in  Greenland,  Arendal,  Tyrol,  and  North 
America  ;  blue  or  IndiccliU  at  Utd  in  Sweden  ;  green  at  Glen  Skiag 
in  Cromarty.  Crystals  ruby-red  within ,  surrounded  by  green  or  red 
at  one  extremity  and  green  at  the  other,  also  blue  and  pink,  at 
Albany,  Paris,  and  Hebron  in  Maine.  Currant-red  or  Huhdliic  in 
India  and  Ceylon,  also  in  Siberia  and  Brazil. 

467.  Datholite,  OaB  +  CaSij-t-S. 

Oblique  prismatic,  C  89°  51'.  ooP  (g)  US'  22',  ooP°2  (/)  76°  38', 
P  (/>)  120°,  -  P°oo  (a)  45°  8',  ooP»oo 
<s),  2P«oo  (o)  (fig.  454) ;  or  rhombic 
with  J:/ 90°,  b  :o  135°,  b:c  141°  9', 
and /:y  160°  39'.  Fracture  uneven, 
■OT  conchoidal.  H.  =5  to  5'5  ;  G. -= 
2^9  to  3.  Transparent  or  translucent ; 
vitreous,  Colourless  and  tinted  gi-een- 
ish,  yellowish,  or  pink.  In  closed 
tube  yields  water.  B.  B.  intumesces 
aud  melts  easily  to  a  clear  glass,  colouring  the  flame  green;  the 
powder  gelatinizes  in  h.  acid.  C.c:  38'1  ^ica,  21 'S  boracic  acid, 
Zi'l  lime,  and  5*6  water. 
Bishopton  in  Renfrew,  Glen 
Farg  in  Perthshire  (fig.  455), 
Salisbury  Crags  and  Corstor- 
phine  Hill  near  Edinburgh, 
Arendal,  Utb,  Andreasberg, 
Soisser  Alp,  Connecticut, 
and  Xew  Jersey.  Figs.  233, 
239  are  pseudomorphs  of 
quartz  after  datholite  termed 
Haytorite. 

468.  EucLASE,    2GlSi  -)- 
i'lH. 

Oblique  prismatic,  C  79" 
44'.     o.P«2(j)115°;3P''S(/) 
105° 49'.    Crystals  specially  of  00 P«2,  ojP'oo  (r),3P'3.    CI.  clino- 
diagoual,  perfect;  very  brittle  and  fragile;   fracture  conchoidal. 


Jb'lg.  454. 


Fig.  455  (sp.  467). 


Fig.  456. 
■7-6;   a -3  to  31. 


Fig.  457. 
Tianiparent ;   iplendent ;  ritreouj. 


Fig.  458  (sp.  471). 


Mountain-green,  passing  into  blue,  yellow,  or  colonrless.  B.B. 
intumesces,  becomes  white,  and  melts  in  thin  splinters  to  a  white 
enamel.  Not  affected  by  acids.  C.c:  42  silica,  36  alumina,  18 
glncina,  6  water.  Peru  and  Brazil,  and  Southern  Urals.  Cannot 
be  used  as  a  gem  on  account  of  its  brittleness  ;  whence  its  name. 

469.  HOMILITE. 

Oblique  prismatic,  C  89°  21'.  H.-SS;  G.-8-28.  Black  and 
brownish  black.  Vitreous.  C.c:  27-28  lime,  1625  protoxide  of 
iron,  31-87  sihca,  18  1  boracic  acid.     Stokij  aid  Brevig  (Norway). 

470.  BOTETOLITE. 

Fine  fibrous,  botryoidal,  «r  reniform.    Snow-white  to  hair-brown. 
Chemical  and  physical  characters  like 
datholite,  but  10  64  of  water,— being  2 
equivalents.     ArendaL 

471.  Gaiiolin:te,  (i,  Ce,  f'e)jSi. 
Oblique   prismatic,    C  89°  28'.      ooP 

116°;  P  120°  56'  (fig.  468).  Fracture 
conchoidal,  or  splintery.  H.  =6-5  to 
7 ;  G.  =»  4  to  4-4.  Translucent  on  the 
edges;  vitreous  to  resinous.  Black; 
streak  greenish  grey.  -B.B.  the  con- 
choidal (vitreous)  varieties  incandesce; 
gelatinizes  in  h.  acid.  C.c:  36  to  51 
yttria,  10  to  15  iron  protoxide,  5  to  17  protoxide  of  cerium  with 
lanthanum,  0  to  12  glucina,  and  25  to  29  silica.  Hittero  in  Norway, 
Ytterby,  Broddbo  and  Finbo  near  Falun. 

Epidote  Geocp. 

472.  Zoisite,  4C8,  3itl,  6Si■^fi. 

Right  prismatic  ooP  116°  26';  oop2  145°  24';  00P3  156*  40';  Poo 
122°  4';  2Poo  111  6'  (fig.  459).  CI.  brachydiag- 
onal,  perfect.  H.  -  6 ;  G.  -  3  '2  to  3  -4.  White, 
brownish  grey,  and  dark  green.  B.B.  intu- 
mesces, and  forms  a  white  or  yellow  porous 
mass ;  and  on  the  edges  fuses  to  a  clear  glass. 
C.c:  29-8  alumina,  24-35  lime,  2-8  oxide 
of  iron,  40-3  silica,  and  2-1  water.  Glen 
Urquhart,  Dalnain,  and  Allt  Gonolan,  In- 
verness; Sterzing  in  Tyrol,  the  Sau  Alp  in 
Carinthia,  the  Urals,  and  Connecticut 
Thulite,  peachblossom-red,  from  Souland  in 
Thelemai-k  (Norway),  is  similar. 

473.  Epidote,  4Ca,  3A1,  6Si-HH. 
Oblique  prismatic,  C  89°  27'.     a.F°oo  (it), 

ooP  2  (0)  63°  1',  P°oo (T)  64°  36',  -  P  (n)  70° 
25',  -  Poo  (r)  63°  42',  P  (z)  70°.  Crystals  complex,  with  many 
partial  forms.  Hemitropes  united  by  T  ;  also  columnar  and  granu- 
lar. CI.  if,  perfect;  also  T,  forming  115°  24';  fracture  conchoidal 
to  splintery.  H. -6  to  7  ;  G. -3-2  to  3-5.  Pellucid  ;  vitreous. 
Green  to  yellowish  grey. 
B.  B.  fuses  and  swells  to 
a  dark  brown  slag  ;  after 
fusion  soluble  with  gela- 
tinization  in  h.  acid. 
C.c:  27-4  alumina,  85 
iron  peroxide,  23-9  lime, 
38-3  silica,  19  water. 
Shetland, Glenelginlnver- 
ness,  Tilquilly  in  Aber- 
deen, in  gneiss;  in  amyg- 
daloid in  Mull  and  Skye  ;  in  granite  at  Cassencary  in  Kirkcud- 
bright; Arendal,  Dauphine,  Greenland,  the  Urals,  North  America. 
Wiihamite  from  Glencoe  is  a  red,  sti-ongly  dichroic  variety.  Pierf- 
mcflitiU  or  ifanr/anese  Epidote,  brownish  violet,  from  St  Marcel,  haa 
20  per  cent,  of  manganese  peroxide. 

474.  Allanite  {Orthite,  Cerine),  ftjSij+SSi. 


i   j  I 


Fig.  459  (sp.  472). 


Fig.  460. 


Fig.  461. 


Fig.  462. 
Oblique  prismatic,  0  65*. 


Fig.  463. 
oP  («)  70°  48',  P  (n)  71''  27',  -  P  (<0 
XYL  —  %2 


410 


MINERALOGY 


96°  iO',  OP  (if),  P«  (r),  ooPoo  (7).  31 :  T  115°,  T  :  n  111*  21', 
J*:  d  130°  18'.  Often  massive  or  granular;  fracture  conchoiJal.  H. 
-^  ;  O.  =»  3  '4  to  3  "8.  Translucent  on  edges  ;  vitreous  to  resinous. 
Black  to  brown  or  greenish ;  streak  brownish  grey.  B.  B.  froths 
and  melts  to  a  brown  glaas.  Gelatinous  with  h.  acid.  C.c.  :  12  to 
IS  alumina  with  peroxide  of  iron,  13  to  2(5  o.\ide  of  cerium  and 
lanthanum,  2  to  12  yttria,  4  to  20  protoxide  of  iron,  30  of  silica. 
Small  crystals  common  in  the  syenitic  granites  of  Scotland  ;  as  at 
Lairg,  Boat  of  Garten  (fig.  463),  Aboyne,  and  Criffel.  In  lime- 
stone at  Urquhart  (fig.  462),  Greenland,  Hitterb  and  Snarum, 
Thuringia,  Pennsylvania,  New  Jersey.  Orthile  (massive)  at  Ficbo, 
Kragerb,  and  Falun.  Cerine  (granular)  at  Eiddarhyttan.  fi/r- 
orthite  has  carbonaceoas  matter,     Bodenite  is  a  variety. 

475.  Idocrase,  3(Ca,  MgjjSi  +  2'A'lSi . 

Pyramidal ;  P  (c)  74°  27'  (figs.  464  to  466).     Crystals 


»P(d), 


Fig.  464. 


Fig.  465. 


P2  if).    Prismatic, 
'      6-5  J 


ooPoo  (if),  P  (c),  OP  {p).  Poo  (o)  56°  29'; 
striated  ;  also  granular  ;  fracture  uneven. 
G.  =  3  '36  to  4.  Pellucid  ;  vitreous  to  resinous.  Brown, 
green,  yellow;  Btreak  white.  B.B.  fuses  easily,  with 
intumescence,  to  a  green  or  brown  glass.  Partially 
sol.  in  h.  acid ;  after  ignition  totally,  gelatinizing. 
C.c. :  alumina  16,  peroxide  of  iron  7,  lime  34,  silica 
38.  Glen  Gnirn  and  Crathie,  Aberdeenshii-e,  in  lime- 
stone ;  Broadford,  Skye  j  Wicklow  and  Donegal,  Ire- 
land ;  Egg,  Norway  ;  Mussa,  Piedmont ;  Vesuvius  ;  F'g-  466. 
Wilui  river,  near  Lake  Baikal  (fig.  463).  Cypriiie  from  Thele- 
mark  is  azure-blue,  from  copper. 

Olivine  Gkocp 

476.  FORSTEBITE,  llgj.  Si. 

Right  prismatic.    Like  olivine  (sp.  478).    H.  =  6  to  7 ;  G.  =  3  -2  to 
3 '3.    Vitreous  ;  transparent.    White,  wa.x- 
yellow,    greenish  ;   streak    white.      C.c.  : 
magnesia    57'1,    silica   42-86.     Vesuvius. 
Soltonite,  red,  is  from  Massachusetts. 

477.  Fatalite,  Fe.Si. 
Eight  prismatic  ;  n:n'  49°  36'  (fig.  467). 

Massive.  CI.  reotanguLir.  Black,  green- 
ish, or  brownish.  Slctallic  to  resinous  ; 
fracture  conchoidal ;  magnetic.  H.  =  6"5; 
G.  =  4  to  4*1.  C.c.  :  protoxide  of  iron 
70»,  silica  29 '5.  Mourue  Mountains, 
Ireland ;  Fayal,  Azores. 

478.  Chrysolite    (Oliviiie,    Peridotc), 
(Fe   lilg)2Si . 

Right    prismatic.      P  {c)    85°  16'  and       ^8-  ^"  ''?■  ■''^• 
139°  54'  ;    middle  108°  30'.      odP  (n)  130°  2',  Poo  (<i)76°  54',  2poo 
(h)   80°  63',  ooPoo  (j)/)  (fig.  468).      Also    massive.      CI.  brachy- 
diagonal,    perfect ;     fractui'e    conchoidal. 
H.=0-6  to   7;  G.-3-3  to  SB.      Traus- 
parent ;    vitreous.      Olive-greon,    yellow, 
brown,   and  colourless.      B.B.    infusible. 
Soluble,  with  gelatiuijcing,  in  acids.    C.c. : 
47  magnesia,   12  protoxide    of   iron,    40 
silica.       Taliskcr    in    Skye,  Haalival    in 
Eum,  Elie  in  Fife,  Unkel  on  the  Rhine, 
Vesuvius,  Esnoh  in  EgTOt,  Brazil.     Bya- 
losidiriU,  brown  an<l  yellow,  with  metallic 
lustre  and  30  per  cent,  protoxida  of  iron, 
is  from  the  Kaiserstuhl  in  the  Broisgau. 

479.  Tephboite,  MnjSi.  Fig.  468  (sp.  478). 

Right  prismatic  ;  granular,  with  rectangular  cleavages.  Ash- 
grey,  rose-red-  Adamantine;  translucent.  H.  — 5 '5  to  6;  G.  —  4 
to  4-1.  C.c, :  protoxide  of  manganese  70  2,  silica  29 'S.  Franklin 
and  Sparta  in  New  Jetsey. 


480.  Kkebellite,  tc^i  •»■  fin^Si . 

Massive.  Grey,  brown,  green,  black.  Glistening  ;  brittle. 
H. -6-6;  G. -S-71.  C.c:  protoxide  of  iron  355,  protoxide  of 
manganese  35,  silica  29*5.     flmenau,  Dannemora  in  Sweden. 

481.  MoNTIOELLlTE,  Ca^i -h  MgjSi . 

Eight  prismatic.  P  (/)  110°  43'  and  97°  55',  aP  (s)  98°  7",  ocP2 
{n)  133°  6',  f  «>  (fc)  81°  57',  JPoo  (h)  120°  8',  P2  (e)  141°  47'  and  82°, 
CO  Poo  (6)  (fig.  469).  Vitreous.  Grey, 
yellowish  and  greenish,  and  white  ; 
streak  white.  Translucent.  H.  =5 
to  5-5;  G. -3  to  3-25.  C.c. :  lime  35, 
magnesia  21 '9,  protoxide  of  iron  5*6, 
silica  37 '5.  Sol  in  h.  acid,  gelatiniz- 
ing.    Somma  (Milan). 

482.  Chondeodite    (HumiU), 
ligjSij. 

Right  prismatic.  P  middle  edge 
156°  38',  polar  edges  131°  34'  and 
54°  28'  (figs,  470  to  472).  Crystals 
monoclinio  in  habit,  often  granular- 
massive.  H.=C-5;G.-315to3-25. 
Translucent ;  vitreous  to  resinous.  Yellow,  red,  brown,  green,  and 
black ;  streak  white.    B.  B.  infusible.    Decomposed  by  acids.    C.c: 


Fig.  469  (sp.  481). 


Fig.  470. 


Fig.  471. 


Fig.  472. 


silicate  of  magnesia,  with  2  to  3  of  fluorine.  From  limestone  on 
Loch  Ness  (?);  Pargas,  Finland;  Gallsjb  and  Aker,  Sweden  :  New 
York  ;  Sparta,  New  Jersey.     SumiU,  from  Somma. 

483.  LlEVRITE,  3(Fe,  CajjSi-l-FeSi-fff. 

Eight  prismatic.  P  (o)  polar  edges  139°  30'  and  117°  27' ;  ooP 
112°  38',  Poo  {d)  112°  49',  ooP2  (s)  106°  15'.  Crystals  (fig.  124)  are 
long-prismatic  and  vertically  striated  ;  also  rpidiated,  columnar,  or 
fibrous;  brittle.  H.  =5*5  to  6;  G.  «=  3 '9  to  4 '2.  Opaque  ;  resinous 
or  imperfect  metallic.  Brownish  or  greenish  black  ;  streak  black. 
B.B.  fuses  easily  to  a  black  magnetic  globule.  Sol,  in  h.  acid, 
forming  a  yellow  jelly.  C.c. :  29-3  silica,  196  iron  peroxide,  35-2 
iron  protoxide,  137  lime,  and  2*2  water.  Rio  iu  Elba,  Fossnm, 
Kupferberg,  Rhode  Island,  and  Greenland. 

484.  CEiiiTE(Ce,  ft),Si-HH. 

Hexagonal ;  OP;  ooP;  in  low  six-sided  prisms.  Generally  fine- 
granular ;  fracture  uneven,  splintery  ;  brittle.  H.  =5*5;  G.  =  4*9 
to  5.  Translucent  on  the  edges  ;  dull,  adamantine,  or  resinous. 
Clove-brown,  cherry-red,  or  pcarl-grcy.  Sol.  in  h.  acid,  leaving 
gelatinous  silica.  C.c:  20"5  silica,  73'5  proto?dde  of  cerium  (with 
didymium  and  lanthanum),  and  6  water.  Bastnacs  near  Eiddar- 
hyttan. 

485.  Galmei,  2nJSi■^S. 

Right  prismatic,  and  hemimorphic  ;  2? 2  (P)  with  polar  edges 
101°  35'  and  132°  26',  ooP  (rf)  103°  50',  Poo  (o)  117°  14',  Pco  (?) 
128°  55'  (fig.  40)  ;  common  form  ooPoo  (s),  ooP,  Poo.  Also 
columnar,  fibrous,  granular,  and  earthy.  CI.  prismatic  along  ooP, 
very  perfect;  along  Poo  perfect,     H.  =  5  ;  G,  —  3'3  to  3"5.     Trans- 

{iarent  to  translucent ;  vitreous  and  peaily.  Colourless  or  white, 
)ut  often  light  grey,  also  yellow,  green,  brown,  ajid  blue  ;  becomes 
electric  by  heat.  B.B.  decrepitates  slightly,  but  is  infusible  ;  with 
cobalt  solution  blue  and  partly  green  ;  rtadily  soluble  iu  acids,  and 
gch-itinizes.  C.c  :  25  silica,  67  5  zinc  oxide,  and  7  5  water,  Wnn- 
lockhcad,  Mcndip  Hills,  Matlock,  R.nibl  and  Bleibcrg  in  Carinthi^ 
Aix-la-Chapelle,  Iscrlohn,  Nertchinsk.  Pennsylvania,  Virginia. 
Used  as  an  ore  of  zinc. 

Willemite  Gkoup. 

486.  'Willemite,  t-a^i. 

Rhombohcdral  ;  R  116°  1'.  CI.  basal,  and  prismatic,  ooR ; 
orittlc.  H,  -  6  -5  ;  O,  -  S  9  to  4  '2,  White,  yellow,  brown,  and  red. 
Vitrojus  lustre.  C.c.  :  oxide  of  zinc  73,  silica  27.  Altenbei;^ 
Liege,  GnciUaud.  New  Jemy. 


MINERALOGY 


411 


^ST.'Tboostite,  2nSi  +  iiBSi. 
yRhombohedral ;  R  116'.    a.  prism&tic,  ooP2  ;  brittle.    H. -5-5; 
G.  —  4'1.      Asparagus-green,  grey,  and  reddish  brown.     Vitreous. 
C.c. :  oxide  of  zinc  53,  oxide  of  manganese  13,  silica  28.    New  Jersey. 

488.  Ckntbolite  (f  bMn)  Si . 

Eight  prismatic;  ooP.  115°  18'.  Form  ooP,  P,  oopoo.  H. -6; 
G. -6  2.  Eed-bxowD-  CI.  prismatio ;  splendent  on  P.  Southern 
Chili. 

489.  Phekaoite,  CiljSi. 

Hexagonal  and  tetartohcdral ;  E  (p)  116°  36' (fig.  478).  Crystala 
K,  a>P2,  JP2.  Twins  with 
parallel  axes,  and  intersecting. 
CI.  E,  and  ooP2  ;  fracture  con- 
choidal.  H.  =75  to  8;  G. -= 
2  ■97.  Transparent  or  trans- 
lucent ;  vitreous.  Colourless, 
and  wine-yellow  or  brown  when 
fresh,  but  colour  soon  lost  on 


Fig.  473  (sp.  489). 
=  3 '2  to  3 -3.     Transparent  or 


Fig.  47-4  (sp.  490). 


exposure.  B. B.  infusible;  not 
affected  by  acids.  C.c.  :glucina 
45 '8,  silica  64 '2.  Framont  in 
Alsace,  Takovaya  in  Urals, 
Miask,  Burango  in  Mexico. 

490.  DioPTASE,  CuSi  +  fi. 
Hexagonal    and    rhombohe- 
dral ;    R  125°  64',  t  2R  (r)  95° 
28',    a.P2,  -  2RJ  (»)  (fig.    474). 
CI.  R,  perfect ;  brittle.     H.  =  5;G. 
translucent;  vitreous.      Emerald-green,    rarely  verdigris-green  or 

blackish  green;   streak  green.      C.c.  ;  38  7 

silica,  50  copper  protoxide,  and  H'3  water. 

Altyn-Tubeh  in  the  Kirghiz  Steppe,  Murosh- 

naya,  Copiapo. 

491.  Chrtsocolla,  CuSW2S. 
Botryoidal  or   investing  ;  brittle  ;  fracture 

conchoidal.  H.  =  2  to  3 ;  G.  =  2  to  2  -3.  Trans- 
lucent ;  resinous.  Verdigi-is-  to  emerald-green 
or  azure-blue  ;  streak  greenish  whifo.  C.c: 
34*83  silica,  44'94  copper  protoxide,  and  20*23 
watei*.  Leadliills,  Lackentyre  in  Kirkcud- 
bright, Cornwall,  Saxony,  Hungary,  Spain, 
Urals,  Australia,  Chili. 

492.  EoGOSLOVSKiTE  (Sup/erilau). 
Massive;  fracture  conchoidal;  brittle.   H.  = 

4  to  5  ;  G.  =  2  -66.     Sky-  to  ultramarine-blue  ; 

streak  smalt-blue,  and  shining.  A  silicate  of 
copper,  with  46*5  per  cent,  copper  oxide.  Schapbach  Valley  in 
Baden,  Bogoslovsk  in  the  Urals.     Danidowitc  may  be  the  same. 

Gaknet  Group. 

493.  Garnet,  ft^Sij-t-S'Si. 

Cubic  ;  most  common  forms  cxiQ  and  202  (figs.  33,  40,  60,  475). 
Also  granular.  CI.  dodecahedrnl ;  fracture  conchoidal,  or  splintery 
H.-6*5to  7*5;G.-3*6  to  4*3.  Pellucid; 
vitreous  or  resinous.  Rarely  colourless  or 
white  ;  generally  red,  brown,  black,  green,  or 
yellow.  B.  B.  in  general  fuses  to  a  glass,  black 
or  grey  in  those  containing  much  iron,  green 
or  brown  in  the  others,  and  often  magnetic; 
imperfectly  soluble  in  h.  acid.  C.c.  ex- 
ceedingly variable,  but  generally  forming  two 
series,  according  as  'R.,0.^  is  chiefly  alnmina  or 
chiefly   iron  peroxide ";    and  these    are    again  Fig.  475. 

divided  according  as  RO,  is  more  especially  lime,  iron  pro- 
toxide, magnesia,  or  a  similar  base.  The  more  important  varieties 
are — 

(1)  Livie- Alumina  Qamel,  (JajSu -^  ilSi,  with  40  silica,  23 
alumina,  and  37  lime.     To  this  subdivision  belong — 

(a)  /ro/erffanirf.— Colourless  to  white.  Craig  Mohr,  Aberdeen ; 
Thelemark  in  Norway. 

(6)  Grossular.  —Olive-  to  gooseberry-green.  Craig  Mohr  :  Wilui 
river ;  America. 

(c)  Cinnamon  S(o»«. —Hyacinth-red  to  orange-yellow.  Glen 
Gaim  (Aberdeen),  Allt  Gonolan  and  Ord  Ban  (Inverness),  Ceylon, 
W*rmland.  Itommttowite,  from  Kimito  (Finland),  is  the  same. 
This  variety  when  polished  is  often  sold  as  Hyacinth. 

(d)  Common  Lime  Ganut.—HeTe  one  half  of  the  alumina  is 
replaced  by  iron  peroxide.  Colours  red.'brown,  yellow.  Piedmont 
Vesuvius,  the  Urals. 

-(2)  Magnesia-Alumina  Garnet :  RO  chiefly  magnesia.     Arendal. 


(Z)  Manganese- Alumina  Camel;  RO-MnO;  reddiah-brown. 
Spessart  (Bavaria),  Sweden. 

(4)  Magnesia-Iron-Zime-Alumina  Garnet,  Pyrope. — Colour  port- 
wine  to  purplish  red.      Elie  in  Fife,  Zdblitz  in  Saxony,  Bohemia. 

(5)  Iron-Alumina  Garnet,  Almandine,  Noble  Garnet. — Colum- 
bine-red, inclining  to  violet,  blood-red,  and  reddish  brown. 
Common  in  mica-slate,  gneiss,  and  granite.  Shetland,  Ross, 
Inverness,  Aberdeen,  Falun,  Arendal,  Tyrol,  the  Urals,  North 
America,  Pegu,  and  Ceylon. 

(6)  Lime-Clirome-Alumina  Qarrut,  CajSi,-f  ('6r,  •il)§i,  UwarO' 
wite.  Emerald-green ;  with  22  per  cent  chrome  oxide.  Bissersk 
and  Kyshtimsk  in  the  Urals,  India,  and  California. 

(7)  Lime  and  Iron  Garnet,  CajSij  +  Fe,  Si.     This  includes — 
(a)  Common  Iron-GariKt,  RothoJjiU,  Allochroile. — Subtranslucent 

or  opaque.  Green,  brown,  yellow,  or  black;  with  white,  grey,  or 
yellow  streak.     Sweden  and  Arendal. 

(6)  Melanite. — Black  ;  opaque  ;  in  thin  splinters  translucent  ; 
streak  grey  ;  slightly  magnetic.  Albano  near  Frascati,  Vesuvius, 
France,  Lappmark. 

(c)  Colophonile. — Yellowish-brown  to  pitch-black,  also  yellow  or 
red;  resinous;  streak  white.     G.  =  3*43.     ArendaL 

The  red  varieties,  when  cut  en  cahochon,  are  termed  Carbuncles^ 

494.  AxiNiTE,  (iA,  'li)  Si-l-2(Ca,  te)Si. 

Anorthic.  Crystals  unsymmetrical.  u  :  P  135°  31';  «:r  115° 
38',  P:r  134°  45'  (figs.  136,  137).  CI.  distinct  along  planes  tnin- 
catingthe  sharp  edges  between  P  ■and  «  andP  and  r.  H.  =6*5 
to7i  G.  =  3*2  to3*3.  Pellucid;  vitreous.  Clove-brown,  inclining  to 
smoke-grey  or  plum-blue;  but  often  cinnamon-brown  in  one  direc- 
tion, dark  violet-blue  in  a  second,  and  pale  olive-green  ra  a  third 
{trichroism).  B.B.  colours  flame  green;  intumesces,  and  fuses  easily 
to  a  dark  green  glass,  becoming  black  in  the  ox.  flame  ;  not  sol.  in  li. 
acid  till  after  ignition,  when  it  gelatinizes.  C.c:  45*9  silica,  5*9 
boracic  acid,  17*5  alumina,  9*3  iron  (with  manganese)  protoxide, 
and  21*4  lime.  Botallack  and  other  mines  in  Cornwall,  Bourg 
d'Oisans  in  Dauphine,  Kongsberg,  Aiendal,  Nordmark  in  Sweden, 
Pyrenees,  St  Gotthard,  Tyrol,  Thura  in  Saxony,  Urals,  and  North 
America. 

495.  Danbubite  (Oa,  B)  2Si . 

Right  prismatic.  ooP  {I)  122°  62',  oof  2  (e)  94°  52',  P«>  (d)  97* 
7',  4f  00    (w)  54°  58',  OP  (c),  P  (o),  2P2  (r),    oopoo    (a),  o>f  4  (n). 


f^^r^ 


Fig.  476. 


Fig.  477. 


Fig.  478. 


Fig.  479. 


Gl.  basal  ;  fracture  uneven  to  subconchoidal ;  vitreous  to  greasy 
lustre.  H. -7  to  7*5;  G.  =2*986  to  3021.  Pale  yellow  to  reddish 
brown.  Translucent ;  brittle.  C.c:  22*76  lime,  28*46  boiacic  acid, 
48*76  silica.     Danbury  in  Connecticut,  Russell  in  New  York. 

Helvine  Geoitp. 

496.  Helvine,  MnS-^3K2Si. 

Cubic  and  tetrahedraL  "o*  or  "o*  ~  T  '*'*'■  '^  ^""^  ''"'  ^^'"  ""■ 
bedded  or  attached.  CI.  octahedral.  H.  =  6  to  6*5;  G.  =  31  to 
3  "3.  Translucent  on  the  edges  ;  resinous.  Wax-yellow,  siskin- 
green,  or  yellowish  brown.  B.  B.  in  the  red.  flame  fuses  with  in- 
tumescence to  a  yellow  obscure  pearl ;  sol.  in  h.  acid,  evolving 
sulphuretted  hydrogen,  and  gelatinizes.  C.c. :  34  silica,  10  glucina, 
8  iron  protoxide,  43  manganese  protoxide,  and  6  sulphur.  Schwarz- 
enberg  in  Saxony,  and  near  Modum  in  Norway. 

497.  Dakalite,  SftjSi  +  ZnS. 

Cubic.  In  octahedra,  with  striated  dodecahedral  planes.  H.  =  6*6 
to  6  ;  G.  =3*43.  Vitreous  to  resinous.  Flesh-red  to  grey  ;  streak 
lighter.  Translucent ;  brittle.  C.c.  ;  protoxide  of  iron  29,  of 
manganese  6*5,  of  zinc  19,  silica  31*6,  sulphur  6*5.  Eockport 
in  Massachusetts. 

498.  Edlttine,  BijSia . 

Cubic  and  tetrahedral.  ?5?  and -?2?.     The   crystals    (fig.    66) 

small,  and  often  \vith  curved  faces  ;  fracture  conchoidal.  H.  =  4*6 
to  5;  G.  =5*9  to  6*1.  Transparent  and  translucent;  adamantine. 
Clove-brown,  yellow,  grey,  or  white;  streak  white  or  grey.  C.c: 
16*2  silica  and  83*8  bismuth  peroxide.  Schneeberg  and  Brauns- 
dorf  near  Freiberg. 


412 


MINERALOGY 


ScAPo:.iTE  Gnour. 

;59.  Sarcdlite,  SCa,  S'l^l,  Ni,  9Si, 

Pjiamidal.  P  102°  64';  ooPoo  ;  OP;  P,  and  other  faces  as  in  fig. 
480,  many  of  the  faces  being  alternately  hemiliedral.  H.  =5'5 
to  6  ;  G.  —  2'93.  Vitreous.  Grey  to  rose-red.  Translucent;  very 
brittle,  C.C.:  alumina  21 '5,  lime  32'4,  soda  .3-3,  silica  40'6. 
B. B.  f)i6Q3  to  a  whit^  enamel;  gelatinises  with  acids.     Somma. 


Kg.  480  (sp.  499). 


Fig,  481  (sp  500). 


600.  MziONiTE,  6(da,  Na),  4A1,  9Si . 

W;  "P  (»); 


P  (5)  (fig.  481) 


Pyramidal.  P  (o)  63°  42';  Pc 
CI.  macrodiagonal.  H.  =  5  £  to  6;G.  =  2-6 
to  2 '74.  Vitreous.  Colourless  or  white. 
Transparent.  Much  cracked.  Co.:  31 '9 
alumina,  26 '2  lime,  41 '9  silica.  Gelatinizes 
in  acids.     Somma. 

601.  MizzONiTE,  6(Ca,  fei),  4^,  15Si. 

Pyramidal;  P  64°  4'  (fig.  482).  Similar  to 
meionite.  C.  c. :  alumina  23  '8,  lime  8  *8, 
soda  9'8,  silica  547.  Insoluble  in  b.  acid. 
Somma. 

502.  SOAPOLITE,  3(Ca,  S a)6i +'Al28i, .  ''■&  ^^2  (sp.  601). 

Pyramidal  P  63°  42' ;  ooPoo  ;  P  ;  cbP  ;  also  massive.  CI. 
coPoo,  perfect;  and  ooP.  H.-5  to  6-5;  G.-2-6  to  2-8.  Trans- 
parent or  translucent ;  vitreous,  pearly,  or  resinous.  Colourless,  but 
also  pale  grey,  green,  yellow,  or  red.  B.  B.  melts  with  etfervescence 
to  a  vesicular  gla.ss;  in  the  closed  tube  may  show  traces  of  fluorine; 
with  solution  of  cobalt  becomes  blue.  SoL  in  h.  acid.  C.  c. :  49 
silica,  28  alumina  (with  iron  peroxide),  and  23  lime  (with  soda). 
Tiree  (Scotland),  Arondal,  Tunaberg,  Pargas,  Massachusetts,  and 
New  York.  Known  by  its  rectangular  cleavage,  resinous  lustre  on 
fractured  surfaces,  and  action  B.  B.      Dipyre,  P  64°  4',  is  a  variety. 

603.  Uelulit-b  (ffumloldtilik),  2((!;a,  Mg)Si-,-f('il,  Pe)Si 
Pyramidal.      P  65°  30';    OP;   ooPm.    CL  basal,  perfect.     H. -5 

to  6-6;  G.  =2 '91  to  2 '95.  Translucent  on  edges  ;  vitreous  to  resin- 
ous. Koney-yellow,  orange-brown,  and  yello^vish  white.  C.  c. : 
32  lime,  7  magnesia,  9  alumina,  7  iron  peroxide,  40  silica.  Capo 
di  Hove,  and  Vesuvius. 

604.  Gehlenite,  (Ca,  Fe)sSi -1- (Al, 'Fe)Si . 

Pyramidal.  P.  69°  ;  OP;  ooPco  ;  ooPS;  2P.  CL  basal.  H.  =6'5 
to  6  ;  G. -2'9  to  S'l.  Translucent  on  edges.  Dull  resinous. 
Mountain-,  leek-,  or  olive-green,  and  liver-brown.  C.  c. :  22 
alumina,  5  iron  peroxide,  35  lime,  4  magnesia,  31  '4  silica.  Mon- 
2oui  in  the  Fassa  Valley. 

NErHEUtTE  Group 
606.  Ledoite,  'AJ,  Sij  -(•  KS'i 

Pyramidal.  Combination  of  the  ditctragonal  pyramid  (0  with  the 
tetragonal pyramid'o),  and  2Poo  (B)with  ooP(m).  Hemitropes  united 


Fig.  483. 


Fig.  484. 


by  (u).  Fracture  conchoidal.  H. -6'5  to  6;  G. -2-4  to2-6.  Trans- 
parent to  translucent  on  the  edges;  vitreous,  inclining  to  resinous. 
Colourless,  but  greyish,  yellowish,  or  reddiah  white ;  atrcok  white. 
B.B.    infarible  ;  with  cobalt  solution  becomes  blue.     Sol.  in   h. 


Fig.  485. 


acid,  without  gelatinizing.  C.:.:  54  9  ;i!ica,  23-6  alumina,  and 
21 '6  potash.  Abundant  m  the  lavas  of  Vesuvius,  the  tufas  near 
Rome,  and  the  peperino  of  Albano  ;  d.ho  at  the  Kaiserstuhl,  and 
near  Lake  Laach.  Readily  distinguished  from  analcime  by  its  in- 
fusibility,  and  by  never  showing  faces  of  the  cube. 

506.  Nepheline  {Elesoliie),  AlSi  +  4(Na,  S)Si . 

Hexagonal.  P  88°  10'.  ooP,  OP,  P  common  ;  also  fig.  485. 
Crystals  imbedded,  or  in  dmses ;  also 
massive-granular;  fracture  conchoidal, 
oruneven.  H.-6'5to  6;  G.-2-58 
to  2 '64.  Transparent  or  translucent ; 
vitreous  and  resinous.  Colourless  or 
white  (nepheline)  ;  or  opaque,  dull 
resinous,  and  oreen,  red,  or  brown 
(cl.-eolite).  B^B.  melts  difficultly 
(nepheline),  or  easily  with  slight  effer- 
vescence (elseolite),  into  a  vesicular 
glass.  Sol.  and  gelatinizes  in  h.  acid. 
C.c. :  41-2  silica,  35-3  alumii 
soda,  6 '5  potash.  Nepheline  at  Monte  I 
Somma,  Capo  di  Bove,  Katzenbuckel 
in  the  Odenwald,  Aussig,  and  Lusatia. 
Elaiolite  in  the  zircon  syenite  at  Laur- 
vig,  Fredriksvarn,  Brevig,  and  iliask. 

havi-ne,  with  \V  51°  46',  seems  only  a  variety;  as  also  Cancri- 
nite,  bright  blue,  and  with  some  carbonate  of  lime. 

607.  MiCKOsoMMiTE,  RSi -l- AlSi  +  NaCl . 

Hexagonal.  ooP;OP;  c»P2;»P?.  CI.  ooP.  H.-6;G.-2-42 
to  2 ■53.  '  Colourless  to  yellow;  lustre  silky.     Somma  and  Vesovlna. 

508.  SoDALiTE,  3(ilSi-hJ!fa§i)-(-NaCl. 

Cubic  ;  ooO,  and  fig.  486  ;  generally  distorted  ;  also  massive  and 
granular.  CI.  ooQ  ;  fracture 
conchoidal  or  uneven.  H.  — 
6  -5 ;  G.  -  2  -13  to  2  -29.  Trans- 
lucent; vitreous.  Wliite,  grey, 
and  rarely  green  or  blue.  C.c: 
37  silica,  31-8  alumina,  19-2 
soda,  4 '7  sodium,  and  7 '3  chlo- 
rine. Greenland,  Vesuvius, 
Ilmen  Hills,  Fredriksvarn,  and 
Litchfield  in  Maine. 

509.  NosEAN,  3(AlSi  -I-  NaSi) 
■fNaS. 

Cubic  ;  and  granular.    H.  «= 
5-5;  G.  -2-28  to  2-40.     Trans-  ^^ 

lucent  ;    vitreous    to   resinous.  '=       "  ^  y  "««/• 

Ash  or  yellowish  grey,  sometimes  blue,  brown,  or  black.  C.c:  36 
silica,  31  alumina,  25  soda,  and  8  sulphuric  acid.  Lake  I^aacb, 
and  Rieden  near  Andernach.  on  the  Rlune.  Occurs  in  phonolites, 
in  minute  crystals. 

510.  IlATnr^^E,  2(A^lSi  +  ^aS*i)  +  CaS'. 

Cubic;  chiefly  odO  ;  also  fig.  487;  but  more  common  in  grains. 
Ch  coO.  H.  -5  to  5-5;  G.  ™2-4  to  2'5.  Semitransparent  or  trans- 
lucent; vitreous  or  resinous.  Azure-  or 
sky-blue;  streak  bluish  white.  C.c:  34'2 
silica,  28  5  alumina,  11*5  soda,  4'3  potash, 
10 '4  lime,  jud  11  '1  sulphuric  acid.  Vesu- 
vius, Mount  Vultur  near  Melfi,  the  Cam- 
pagna  of  Rome,  and  Niedermendig  near 
Andernach 

611.   Lapis-Lazi'LI. 

Cubic  ;  Ooo  ;  generally  massive,  granu- 
lar. H. -6-5;  G. -2-38  to  2-42.  Trans-  Fig.  487  (sp.  610). 
lucent  on  edges;  dull  resinous  or  vitreous.  Ultramarine,  or 
azure-blue;  streak  light  blue.  B.B.  fuses  readily  to  a  white 
porous  glass.  In  h.  acid  the  powder  is  dissolved  and  gelatinizes, 
evolving  sulphuretted  hydrogen.  C.c:  45-50  silica,  5-89  sul- 
phuric acid,  3176  alumina,  9  09  soda,  3-62  lime,  0  86  iron,  042 
chlorine,  095  sulphur,  0-12  water.  Near  Lake  Baikal,  China, 
Tibet,  Tartary,  Monte  Somma,  and  Chili.  It  is  used  for  ornamen- 
tal purposes,  and  in  the  preparation  of  ultramarine.  The  colour 
both  in  it  and  hauyne  seems  duo  to  some  compound  of  sulphur 
with  sodium  and  iron. 

Mica  Group. 

512.   BiOTlTE  (iV(ii7Ji«ia-ifiM), 'AVsia-t-iSlg,  K,  ^6)3813. 

Oblique  prismatic,  C  89*  69'.  OP  (c),  98°  41'  P  (m),  -  JP  (0), 
a>P^oo(6).^co(r),  -  jP«3{r).  CI.  basal,  perfect;  scctilo;  thin  plate* 
clastic.  H. -26  to  3;  G. -2-86  to  2 -9.  Transparont,  but  often  only 


MINEKALOGY 


413 


in  very  thin  plates.  Generally  uniaxal,  sometimes  with  diver- 
gence—66".  Metallic,  pearly.  Usually  dark  green,  brown,  or  black ; 
streak  CTcenish  grey  or  white.  B.  B.  difficultly  fusible  to  a  grey  or 
black  ^asB.    Completely  soL  in  concentrated  s.  acid,  leaving  white 


Fig.  488.  Fig.  489. 

pearly  plates  of  silica.  Co. :  39  silic.i,  17  alumina,  10  iron  protoxide, 
20  magnesia,  9  potash.  Hillswick,  Shetland,  in  gneiss;  Sutherland, 
lloss,  Inverness,  in  limestone;  Skye  and  Fife  in  trap;  Pargas,  Boden- 
mais,  Greenland,  New  York.    Ruidlan  is  a  decomposed  variety. 

613.  Hacghtonite,  ('Al,!Fe)  Si  +  (Fe,  8)281. 

Oblique  prismatic.  CI.  basal,  perfect.  H.  — 3;  G. —S'l.  Vitreous 
to  adamantine.  Chocolate-brown  to  black.  Weathers  pale  green 
end  ochry.  Difficultly  soluble  in  acids.  B.B.  fused  with  difficulty 
to  a  highly  magnetic  bead.  C.  c. :  silica  36,  alumina  18,  ferric  oxide 
4  5,  ferrous  oxide  18,  magnesia  9,  potash  8,  water  3.  Common  in 
the  granites  of  Scotland.     Black  Forest,  Harzburg,  Tyrberger. 

614.  Lepidomelane,  (Al,3p'e)  Si  +  (fe,  K)Si. 

Oblique  prismatic.  CI.  basal,  perfect ;  "brittle.  H.  =3;  G.  =2-97. 
Vitreous;  transparent  to  opaque.  Rich  brown  to  raven-black. 
B.B.  fuses  easily  to  a  blacK  feebly-magnetic  bead.  Sol.  in  h. 
acid,  leaving  pearly  scales  of  silica.  C.c. ;  37  silica,  37  alumina,  24 
ii-on  peroxide,  3  protoxide  of  iron,  8  potash,  10  magnesia,  4  water. 
Rarely  in  gneiss,  Scotland ;  common  in  granite,  Ireland;  and  Pers- 
berg,  Sweden. 

616.  Anomite,  12ilg,  3JU,  2S,  fi,  12Si. 

Oblique  prismatic,  c  :m  98°  42'.  Form  c,  m,  0,  6  (see  fig.  488); 
divergence  of  optic  axes  12°  to  16°.  Monroe  (New  York),  Lake  Baikal. 

616.  Phlooopite,  (IR3  ■^  jS)  Sij . 

Oblique  prismatic.  OP  (c),  P  (m),  -  JP  (0),  ooPoo  (J),  e  :  m  98°  30' 
to  99°.  CI.  basal,  perfect  H. -25  to  3;  G. -276  to  2-97.  Pearly 
to  submetallic.  Yellowish  brown  with  copper-like  reflexion;  also 
green,  white,  and  colourless.  Transparent.  Divergence  of  optic 
axes  3°  to  20°.  C.c:  14  alumina,  2  protoxide  of  iron,  28  mag- 
nesia, 8"6  potash,  2'57  fluorine,  41  silica.  B.B.  whitens,  andfuses 
30  edges.  Decomposed  by  s.  acid,  leaving  the  silica  in  scales. 
Pargas  (Finland),  Fassa  Valley,  New  York,  Canada,  Ceylon.  Char- 
acteristic of  serpentine  and  of  dolomitic  limestones. 

517.    ZiNNWALDITE. 

Oblique  prismatic.  Forms  as  in  figs.  490,  491 ;  also  2Poo  {H)  and 
SP'S  (x).  m  :  c  98°  to  99°.  Divergence  of  optic  axes  65°.  G.  - 
282  to  3'2.     C.c.  similar  to  muscovite  (sp.  619),  but  with  4  to 


Fig.  490.  Fig.  491. 

8  fluorine,  2  to  5  lithia,  and  traces  of  rubidium,  cxsiam,  and  thal- 
lium. Altenberg  and  Zinnwald,  St  Just  and  Trewavas  in  Cornwall. 
CnjophylliU  from  Cape  Ann  in  Massachusetts  is  similar. 

518.  Lepidolite. 

Oblique  prismatic.  Forms  like  muscovite.  Divergence  of  optic 
«es  50^  to  77°.  CI.  basal,  perfect.  H.  =2-6  to  4;  G.  -2-84  to  3. 
Often  massive;  scaly  granular,  coarse  or  fine.  Lustre  pearly.  Colour 
fose-red,  violet,  lilac,  yellow,  greyish  white.  Contains  5  to  6  per 
■;ent.  lithia,  with  rubidium,  csesium,  and  thallium,  also  fluorine. 
B.  B.  colours  flame  red.  Mourne  Mountains,  Rozena  (Moravia),  Uto 
(Sweden),  Ekaterinburg,  Maine. 

519.  UvscoviTE  (Muscovy-Olasa),  3i'lSi-(-KSi. 

Right  prismatic,  with  monoclinic  habit.  0P(c);  a-F  {^t)■,  ooP'co 
(i);  P  (m);  2P«oo  (j/).  ooP  nearly  120°.  Twin-face  e.  CI.  basal, 
perfect ;  elastic.  Angle  of  optic  di- 
vergence from  44°  to  77°.  Metallic, 
pearly.  Colourless,  and  tinged  of 
various  shades  to  black.  B.  B.  fuses  to 
an  opaque  enamel.  Not  affected  by 
acids.  C.c:  36-6  altlmina,  H-8  pot- 
ash, 46 '1  silica,  4*5  water,  with  traces 
of  fluoi-ine.  Shetland,  Loch  Glass  in  Sutherland,  Glen  Skiag 
(crystals  16  inches  in  length)  and  Struay  Bridge  in  Ross,  Aber- 


Fig.  492. 


deen,  Cornwall,  St  Gotthard,  Norway,  Sweden,  Siberia.  Crystals 
over  a  yard  in  diameter  in  China,  where  it  is  used  for  windows. 
Fuchitc,  bright  green,  has  6  per  cent,  of  chrome  oxide.  Mcirgaro- 
dite  contains  4  to  6  water.     Qilberlite,  Cornwall,  may  be  different. 

620.  Paragokite  (Soda-Mim),  sAl^Sij  -t-  (Jja,  fi)Si . 

Massive;  foliated.  Lustre  pearly.  H.  =2-5  to  3 ;  G.  -278  to2'9. 
Yellowish,  greyish,  and  greenish.  C.c:  40-1  alnmina,  6-1  soda, 
4775  silica,  4-6  water.     Monte  Campioue,  St  Gotthard. 

521.  Sandbeeoerite  {Baryta- Mica). 

White  minute  scaled  aggregates.  G. -2-894.  C.c  :  30 '2  alumina, 
4-9  mao;nesia,  6'9  baryta,  7-6  pot-ash,  42-6  silica,  4-43  water. 
Pfitsch  Valley  in  Tyrol,  aud  the  Swiss  Alps. 

522.  Maroarite  {Lime-Mica). 

Right  prismatic.  CI.  basal  perfect.  H.  =3  5  to  4-6;  G.  =2 '99  to 
3'1.  Lustre  of  cl.  pearly.  Lateral  planes,  vitreous.  Snow-white, 
reddish  white,  and  pearl-grey.  Lamina;  brittle.  Optic  axial 
angle  109°  to  129°.  C.c  :  61;2  alumina,  11-6  lime,  2-6  soda,  30-1 
silica,  and  4  5  water.  Greiner  in  Tyrol,  Naxos,  Asia  Minor,  Greece, 
Pennsylvania,  North  Carolina.     Diphanitc  is  similar. 

523.  Euphyllite  (Jftj  +  iti)^!,  +  jS . 

Like  muscovite,  but  lamince  not  easily  separable.  H.=3'5to4'5; 
G.  —  2'83  to  3.  Lustre  of  el.  pearly  to  adamantine.  White  to 
colourless.  Transparent  to  opaque.  Laminse  brittle.  Optic  axial 
angle  714°.  G.c. :  alumina  423,  lime  15,  potash  3'2,  soda  69, 
silica  41*6,  water  5*5.     Unionville  in  Pennsylvaniai 

524.  Clintonite,  (|ft3  +  j'Al)„gi  +  ja. 

Oblique  prismatic;  in  hexagonal  tables,  or  massive  foliated.  Cl. 
basal,  perfect.  H.  —  5to5'5;  G.  — 3'15.  Translucent ;  pearly  to 
metallic  on  the  cleavage.  Angle  of  the  optic  axes  3  to  13°. 
Reddish  brown  to  yellow.  C.c:  397  alumina,  21-1  magnesia,  13 '1 
lime,  19  "2  silica,  2  protoxide  of  iron,  4"9  water.  Amity  and  War- 
wick in  New  York.     Brandisitc  is  similar. 

525.  Xanthophyllite. 

Oblique  prismatic,  C  about  90°.  Crystalline  aggregates.  Radiate 
lamellar.  H.  — 4'6  to  6;  G.  —  S'l.  Lustre  pearly.  Colour  yellowish 
to  copper-red.  Angle  of  optic  axes  0°  to  20°.  C.c:  alumina  43 '6, 
lime  13,  magnesia  17'5,  silica  16"9,  water  S'"*      Zlatoust. 

626.  Chloritoid,  FeSi-^A'lfi. 

Right  prismatic ;  in  foliated  crystals ;  brittle.  Cl.  basal. 
Lustre  greasy  to  pearly.  H.  =5'5  to  6  ;  G.  =3*52  to  3 '56.  Dark 
green;  streak  greenish  white.  C.c:  40  alumina,  27  protoxide  ot 
iron,  25  silica,  7  water.  B.B.  infusible,  but  becomes  magnetic. 
Decomposed  by  3.  acid.  Hillswick  in  Shetland,  Pregratten  111 
Tyrol,  Ekaterinburg,  Canada. 

527.  Masonite. 

Broad  plates.  H.=6*6;  G.  =353.  Grey-green.  Streak  grey. 
Pearly  to  vitreous.     C.c:   26-4  alumina,  19  peroxide  of  iron,  16'7 

frotoxide  of  iron.  32 '68  silica.  4 '6  water.  Middletown  in  Rhode 
sland. 

528.  Ottreute,  AljSij  +  3(Fe,  Mn)Si-(-3fi. 

Thin  hexagonal  tables  Cl.  parallel  to  the  prismatic  faces.  H.  — 
5'5;  G.  — 4"4.  Translucent;  vitreous.  Greenish  or  blackish  grej. 
C.c:  24'3  alnmina,  16'8  protoxide  of  iron,  ll'l  protoxide  o£ 
manganese,  43'4  silica,  6'66  water.  Ottrez  in  the  Ardennes 
(Luxemburg),  Asto  in  the  Pyrenees,  Ebnat  in  Bavaria,  Newport 
(Rhode  Island),  Vardhos  (Greece). 

629.  Pyrosmalite,  7feSi  +  RCl2-l-5a. 

Hexagonal.  P 101°  34';  crystals  ooP,  OP;  tabular;  also  granular. 
CL  basal,  perfect ;  brittle.  H.  =  4  to  4-5  ;  G.  =3  to  3  2.  Trans- 
lucent to  opaque  ;  resinous,  or  metallic-pearly.  Liver-brown  to 
olive-green.  C.c:  35 "5  silica,  37 "5  iron  protoxide,  21 '6  manganese 
protoxide,  8  chloride  of  iron  or  manganese,  and  7  '5  water.  Nord- 
mark  in  Sweden. 

530.  ASTROPHYXLITE,  (fu,  ^)Si} . 

Right  prismatic,  with  oblique  habit  In  long  tabular  prisms, 
and  in  stellate  groups.  Cl.Das.al,  perfect.  H.  — 35;  G.  =3'33. 
Submetallic  to  pearly.  Tombac-;brown  to  gold-yellow.  Pellucid. 
Axial  divergence  118"  to  124°.  C.c. :  peroxide  of  iron  9  3,  protoxide 
23  6,  protoxide  of  manganese  10,  soda  3-9,  potash  6  9,  titanic  acid 
7  "90,  silica  39 '2.     Brevig,  El  Paso  in  Colorado. 

Chlorite  Group. 

531.  Chlorite,  2ESi -^  ft^^l  +  3S  . 

Hexagonal.     P  106°   50';   crystals  tabular  of  0?,  ooP  or  OP,  P 

(fig.  493) ;    often   in   comb-like    or  other   groups  ;         

generally  foliated  and  scaly.    H.  =  1  tol"5;  G.  =  278    ^S        i-^ 
to   2 -96.      Leek-green  to  blackish    green ;     streak    ^        1^ 
greenish  grey.       C.c:   21   alumina,    20   protoxide      j,.     ^gg 
of  iron,  magnesia  18,  silica  24,  water  11:       Tarf-         *' 
side,  Bute,  and  Jnra  in  Scotland.     Cornwall,  Cumberland,  Wales, 
Fassa  Valley,  Urals,  America. 


414 


MINERALOGY 


C32.  rENNiNE,  ^iiggi+fifgj'i^i+sa. 

Hexagonal,  rhoinbohedral ;  R  65°  28'.  Crystals  chiefly  very  acute 
rhombobedrons,  with  or  without  tho  base.  Lustre  resinous.  H.  — 
2  to  3;  G.  =2-6  to  277.  Streak  greenish  white.  B.B.  exfoliates, 
becomes  white,  and  fuses  on  the  edges  to  a  white  enamel.  Com- 
pletely sot.  in  warm  s.  acid.  C.c:  83-6  silica,  H'-I  alumina, 
?9 '4  magnesia,  and  12-6  water;  but  with  5  to  6  iron  protoxide  re- 
placing magnesia.  Scalpa  in  Harris,  Glen  Lochy  in  Perthshire, 
Zermatt  in  Valais,  Tyrol,  Ala  di  Stiira  in  Piedmont,  MauMou 
in  the  Pyrenees.  LmchttnbcrgiU  is  the  same.  KiimmeTtrUe,  with 
5  to  8  chromium  sesquioxide,  is  violet-blue  or  green  ;  Unst,  Siberia, 
Pennsylvania.     ShodochTome  and  TabergUe  are  also  varieties. 

633.  Clikocb-lore  (llipidoUtc),  8ftgSi  +  lilg,,iij  +  4a. 
Oblique  prismatic,  C.  76°  4'.      ooP   121°  28'.     OP  :  P  118°  66'; 

OP  :  ooP  192°  8'.    Crystals  -2P,  P,  4P»oo,  OP  {n,  m,  t,  P,  fig.  494). 

Twins  common  ;  lustre  vitreous  or  resinous.     H.  =2 

to  3;   G.  =2-6  to   28.      B.B.    becomes  white,   and 

fuses    on  thin  edges  to  a  jgrcyish  yellow  enamel. 

C.c:  30'3  silica,  17*8  alumina,   40'3  magnesia,  and 

12'1  water.     Edentian  and  Blair  Athole  in  Scotland, 

Traversella  in  Piedmont,  Akhmatovsk  in  Urals,  West 

Chester   in   Pennsylvania.      CorundophylliU,   Epi- 

chlorite,  and  KotschtiitcyUe  are  varieties. 

634.  PVROSCLEEITB,  (Jli,  ife'jjSij+Sfi.  Fig.  494. 
Eight  prismatic.     CI.  basal,  perfect ;  fracture  uneven  ;  brittle ; 

sectile.  H.-3;  G.=27to2-8.  Pearly ;  translucent.  Apple-, 
emerald-,  and  grey-green.  C.c. :  alumina  13-4,  chrome  oxide  1-4, 
protoxide  of  iron  3  S,  magnesia  31-6,  silica  37,  water  11.  Porto- 
Perraio  in  Elba,  China. 

533.  Choniokiti. 

Massive;  crystalline-grannlar  and  ^lobolar-radiated.  H. -2'6to 
3  ;  G.  ■=2'91.  Weak  silky.  White,  with  yellowish  spots  ;  greenish 
blue.  C.c:  17'1  alumina,  22-6  magnesia,  12-6  lime,  35 '7  silica,  9 
water.  B.B.  fuses  easily,  with  intumescence,  to  a  grey  glass.  De- 
composed by  h.  acid,  with  separation  of  silica.  Colmonell  (Ayrshire), 
Porto-Ferraio. 

536.  Ptcnotrop. 

Large  grained  aggregates.  CI.  along  two  rectangnlar  faces ;  frac- 
ture hackly,  splintery.  Greyish  white  to  bromi-red.  Vitreous  to 
greasy.  H,  =2  to  2-3  ;  G.  =2-6  to  27.  Co.:  alumina  29-3,  mag- 
nesia 12  6,  potash  4  4,  silica  46,  water  7'8.     Waldheim  in  Saxony. 

537.  Thcrinoitb.  (i&,  63  +  4(4],  fe))^^^*  4 rt. 

Massive  ;  scaly.  H.  =2  to  2'5  ;  G.  =  3-2.  Pearlv.  Olive-green  to 
pistachio-green  ;  streak  paler.  Very  tough.  Powiler  greasy.  C.c: 
alumina  16,  peroxide  of  iron  14,  protoxide  of  iron  33,  silica  23, 
water  11.  Schmiedefeld  in  Thuringia,  Harper's  Ferry  on  the 
Potomac,  Hot  Springs  in  Arkansas. 

638.  Delessite,  (If'eJ,  SlgljJij-ffilA,  ¥oA)gi-l-3fi  +  2lflga. 

Massive  ;  scaly.  H.  =2  to  2-5  ;  G.  =.2-6  to  1-89.  OlivS-greeu  to 
dark  green,  passing  to  dark  brick-red  ; 
streak  light  green.  C.c:  alumina  16 '3, 
protoxide  of  iron  12  "6,  magnesia  21,  silica 
31  "5,  water  15 '8.  Common  in  igneous 
roclts  of  Old  Red  Saadstone  and  Coal- 
measure  age  in  Scotland.  Oberstein, 
Zwickau,  Lagrfeve  near  Mielin. 

539.  CKONSTEDTrnt,  5FeSi -I- (te,  iig), 
Si-hSa. 

Rhombohedr.il;  radiated  columnar.    In  ,0    t.  nvi- 

tapering  hexagons,  and  hemihedral  (figs.  ^>SAv5.  (Sp.5d9.)  Fig.495. 
495,496).  CI.  basM,  perfect;  elastic.  H. -2-5  ;  G.  =  3'3  to  8-6. 
Vitreous.  Coal-black  and  brownish  black;  streak  dark  olive-green. 
C.c:  protoxide  of  iron  39,  peroxide  of  iron  29,  silica  22,  water  11. 
Huel  Maudlin  in  Cornwall,  Przibram,  Brazil  iSidcroschisoltte). 

Talc  and  Sebpektine  Gropf. 

640.  Talo,  J'lg:3i,  +  a. 

Right  prismatic  (?) ;  rarely  found  In  six-sided  or  rhombic  tables  ; 
generally  massive,  granular,  or  scaly.  Rarely  hbrous.  CL  basal, 
perfect ;  soft,  sectiie,  and  flexible  iuthiu  plates.  H.  -=1 ;  G.  «=2'6 
to  2'8.  Transparent  in  thin  plates,  and  optically  binaxal;  pearly 
or  resinous.  Color.rless,  but  generally  greenish  or  yellowish  white 
to  apple-  or  olive-green .  Feels  very  greasy.  B.  B.  emits  a  bright 
light,  exfoliates,  and  hardens  (H.  —6),  but  is  infusible  ;  with  cobalt 
solution  becomes  red.  Not  sol.  in  h.  or  s.  acid  before  or  after  igni- 
tion. C.c:  63'5  silica,  817  magnesia,  and  4'8  water.  Unst  in 
Shetland,  green  ;  Cairnic  in  Aberdeenshire,  brown  ;  Greiner  in 
Tyrol,  Sala  and  Falun,  the  Pyrenees.  Used  as  crayons,  also  for 
forming  crucibles  and  for  porcelain. 

SUatUe, — Massive.      Grey,   red,   yellow,   or  green.      Shetland, 


Sutherland,  Portsoy,  and   near  Kirkcaldy,  Scotland ;   the  lizard 
Point,  Cornwall  ;  Brian9on,  WunsiedeL     Savage  nations  cut  tho 
steatite  into  culinary  utensils. 
Fotetojie  is  a  mixture  of  talc,  chlorite,  and  other  minerals. 

641.  PiCROPHTLL,  3RSi-l-2a. 

Eight  prismatic.  H. -2'6  ;  G.-376.  Dark  green.  Foliated, 
shining.     C.c:  magnesia  30  1,  protoxide  of  iron  6 '9,  silica  49 '8, 

water  9 '8.     Sala  in  Sweden. 

642.  Picrosmike,  2lilgSi-hS. 

Eight  prismatic,  but  massive.  CI.  cx>f  no  perfect,  less  so  in  other 
directions  ;  sectile.  H.  =  2'5  to  3  ;  G.  =2'6  to  27;  Translucent  or 
opaque  ;  vitreous,  but  pearly  on  oapoo .  Greenish  white,  grey,  or 
blackish  green  ;  streak  colourless.  Yields  a  bitter  odour  when 
breathed  on  ;  hence  the  name.  C.c;  65 '8  silica,  36'1  magnesia,  and 
8*1  water.     Presnitz  in  Bohemia,  and  Greiner  iu  TyroL 

543.  MoNRADITE,  4(|!ylg,  JFe)Si  +  a. 

Massive,  foliated,  translucent,  and  jrellowish-grey,  H.  ■■6 ;  G.  » 
3'27.  C.c. :  silica  55 '2,  magnesia  31  "9,  protoxide  of  iron  8*8,  water 
4"1.     B.B.  infusible.     Bergen  in  Norway. 

644.  Meerschaum,  2S[g2Si8  +  4B. 

Fracture  earthy  ;.  sectile.  H.  =2  to  2-5  ;  G. -0'8  to  1  (when 
moist  nearly  2).  Opaque,  dull.  Yellowish  and  greyish  white;  streak 
slightly  shining.  Feels  rather  greasy,  and  adheres  strongly  to  the 
tongue.  C.c:  54*2  silica,  24 7  magnesia,  and  from  9  to  21 7  water. 
Negropont,  Anatolia,  near  Madrid  and  Toledo,  Moravia,  Werm- 
land, 

645.  Aphrodite,  4]iIgSi-Hll. 

Soft  and  earthy.  G. -2-21.  Milk-white;  opaque.  C.c:  62-9 
silica,  86'3  magnesia,  11'9  water.     L&ngban  'Sweden),  Elba. 

646.  Spadaite,  l(IgjSij-H4a. 

Massive;  fracture  splintery;  sectile.  H. ~2'5.  Translucent; 
resinous.  Red,  with  white  streak.  C.c:  67  silica,  81'6  magnesin, 
11  '4  water.     Capo  di  Bove  near  Rome. 

547.  Gymnite. 

Massive.  H. -2  to  S ;  G.  =  1'9  to  2-2.  Translucent ;  resinous. 
Dull  orange-yellow.  C.c:  41  silica,  37  magnesia,  22  water.  Tyrol, 
Passau,  Texas,  Barehills  near  Baltimore.  I\-ickcl  GymniU  has  29  of 
nickel  oxide,  replacing  the  water.    Unst,  Texas,  Pennsylvania, 

548.  Saponite,  (f'e(JaJ'lg)sSi5  +  (Al3Pe)Si-H3a. 

Massive ;  sectile,  and  very  soft.  H.  =  1  -5  ;  G.  =  2  '2  to  2  '3.  White, 
orange-yellow,  pale  green,  and  reddish  brown.  Feels  gi-easy ;  does  not 
adhere  to  the  tongue  ;  falls  to  pieces  in  water.  C.c:  silica  40*8, 
alumina  7'5,  ferric  oxide  39,  magnesia  20'6,  water  227.  Occur* 
in  all  the  above  colours  in  the  later  igneous  rocks  of  Scotland,  com- 
monly. Lizard  Point  and  St  Clear  in  Cornwall,  and  Dalecarlia  iu 
Sweden.     Pimclite  has  2  "8  oxide  of  nickel. 

649.  Serpentine,  2lig.Si  +  J'lgft, . 

Crystallization  uncertain  ;  pseudomorphic  after  oliviiie,  ■  &c. , 
generally  massive,  and  granular  or  fibrous ;  fracture  flat-con- 
choidal,  uneven,  or  splintery ;  sectile,  and  slightly  brittle. 
H.=3to3'5;  G.  — 2'5to27.  Translucent  to  opaque  ;  dull  resin- 
ous. Green,  grey,  yellow,  red,  or  brown;  often  in  spots,  stripes, 
or  veins  ;  streak  white,  shining.  Feels  greasy,  and  does  not  adhere 
to  the  tongue.  In  the  closed  tube  yields  water,  and  becomes  black. 
C.c:  43"5  silica,  43*5  magnesia,  and  13  water ;  but  with  1  to  8  iron 
protoxide,  and  also  carbonic  acid,  bitumen,  and  chrome  oxide. 

Varieties  are — (1)  Noble  Serpentine,  brighter  coloured,  16H;0, 
and  more  translucent;  (2)  Picrolite,  or  fibrous  (H.  "3'5  to  4*6); 
(3)  Common,  or  compact;  (4)  ChrysotiU  {Baltimonte,  Md-axiic),  in 
fine  asbestiform  fibres,  easily  separated,  with  a  metallic  or  silky 
lustre  (G.- 2 '21 9). 

Common  in  Shetland,  Urquliart,  Portsoy,  Ballantrae  ;  Lizard 
Point  in  Cornwall  ;  Norway,  Sweden,  North  America.  Chrysotile 
at  Colafirth  and  Fetlar,  Shetland,  Portsoy,  Towanreiff,  in  Scot- 
land ;  Reichenstein  in  Silesia,  the  Vosges  Mountains,  and  North 
America.  Serpentine  is  often  a  product  of  decomposition,  or  pseudo* 
morph  of  various  minerals,  as  augitc,  hornblende,  olivine,  spinel, 
enstatite,  garnet,  kc.  It  forms  wiolo  rocks  and  mountains,  and  is 
manufactured  into  various  oniamenlal  articles. 

550.  Marmolite,  31lgSi^-2Slga2- 

Oblique  prismatic;  often  foliated.  H.  — 2"5  to  8;  6.  —  2'41  to 
2"47.  Lustre  pearly.  Greenish  white,  bluish  white,  and  asitaragus* 
green.  C.c:  silica  42*1,  magnesia  38"6,  water  17"5.  In  veins 
in  serpentine  of  Urquhart  aud  Portsoy  (Scotland)  Cornwall,  Fin- 
land, Hobokeu. 

551.  Antioorite. 

Thin  flat  lamina!.  H.  -»2'5  ;  G.  -2'6.  Translucent.  Green  with 
brown  spots  ;  streak  white.  C.c:  silica  40'8,  magnesia  S6'3,  f  rot- 
oxide  of  iron  6'8,  water  124.     Antigorio  in  Piedmont. 


aii^EKALOGY 


415 


i52.  Hydeophite,  (Jig,  fe)j§i,+4li. 

Maasire  and  6brous.  H. —3  to  4  ;  G.  «2'65.  Moantain-green  to 
blue-black,;  streak  paler.  ■  C.c:  silica 36 '2,  magne8ia21'l,  protoxide 
of  iron  227,  water  16.     Taberg  in  Sweden,  New  York. 

653.  TiCLAESITE,  2ilg2S'  +  S. 

Right  prismatic  ;  crystals  P,  OP,  meeting  at  138*32',  often  twins 
in  tnple  combination;  also  granular.  H.  —  3  ;  G.  ■=*2'9  to  3.  Trans- 
lucent. Greenish  to  greyish  yellow.  C.c:  silica  39'6,  magnesia 
47  "4,  protoxide  of  iron  3-6,  water  6 '8.  Totaig,  Boss-shire  ;  Tiaver'- 
sella.  Piedmont ;  Forez,  France. 

S54.  Pykju-lolite. 

Oblique  prismatic,  C  72°  5S' ;  columnar  and  grannlar.  CI. 
basic  and  hemidomatic,  meeting  at  94°  36' ;  fracture  splintery ; 
brittle.  H.  —  3'5  to  4  ;  G.  —  2'fi.  Translucent  on  edges  ;  resinous. 
Greenish  to  yellow-grey.  Cc:  silicate  of  magnesia  and  water. 
Storgard  in  Finland. 

655.  Deematine,  (Sig,  fe)Si-f2fi. 

Reniform  ;  stalactitic;  fracture  conchoidal ;  brittle.  H.  =2*5; 
G. -=2'1.  Resinous.  Blackish  green ;  streak  yellow.  Does  not 
adhere  to  tongue.  C.c:  silica  38,  magnesia  22,  protoxide  of  iron 
12,  water  23.     Waldheim  in  Saxony. 

656.  Chlorophsite,  ftSWB,Si3-h4S. 

Massive,  rarely  reniform.  Coating  or  filling  up  geodes  in  amyg* 
daloidal  cavities.  H. -1-5  ;  G.- 2  02  to  2  3.  SectUe ;  fracture  con- 
choidal. On  firat  exposure  transparent  and  oUve-gr^en  to  orange- 
yollow,  but  soon  changes  to  black  and  opaque,  splitting  in  so 
joing.  Titreous  to  shining.  B.B.  melts  to  a  black  glass.  C.c: 
silica  36*2,  alumina  8 '9,  peroxide  of  iron  13 '8,  protoxide  of  iron 
2"4,  lime  3  "8,  magnesia  10,  water  24*8.  Rum  and  Canna  in  the 
Hebrides,  Giant's  Causeway.  The  original  mineral  from  Rum  has 
22*8  iron  peroxide  and  no  alumina. 

857.    FORCHHAIIMERITE,  f'eSi -H  6S . 

Granular  massive.  Subresinous  to  dull.  Dark  green.  H.  =2; 
G.  =  l*8.  C.c:  silica  32*8,  protoxide  of  iron  21*6,  magnesia  3*4, 
water  42*2.     Faroes. 

658.  KiRWASITE. 

Fills  druses  in  amygdaloids  with  divergent  sheaf-like  crystals. 
H.  =2;G.  —  2*9.  Opaque.  Olive-green  to  dark  green.  C.c:  silica 
405,  alumina  111,  protoxide  of  iron  23*9,  lime  19*8,  water  4*4. 
Locli  Baa  in  Mull ;  Moutne  Mountains  in  Ireland. 

659.  Gladcosite. 

Round  grains.  Dull  resinous.  Light  green.  C.c:  silicate  of 
protoxide  of  ii-on  and  potash.  Ashgrove  near  Elgin  ;  greensand 
of  England,  France,  Germany,  and  Ajonerica. 

660.  Celadonite,  3ftSiJ-^83Si2-^5rt. 

Massive,  forming  crusts,  as  of  agates.  Earthy,  sectile,  H.  =  1 
to  2;  G. -2*6  to  2*8.  Opaque,  shining.  Bright  gieen.  Feels 
(»reasy.  C.c:  silica  54,  alumina  3  8,  ferric  oxide  11*9,  ferrous  oxide 
5*4,  magnesia  6  8,  potash  7*9,  water  10.  Orkney,  Rum,  and 
Fircshinj  in  Scotland.  Giant's  Causeway,  Verona,  Faroes,  Iceland, 
Cyprus,  Bohemia. 

561.  Stilpxomelane,  2(Pe,  Jlg)Si -(■  MSi -f  23 . 

Jtassive  or  radiating-foliated.  One  cl.  perfect ;  brittle.  H.  =  3to 
4;G.— 3to3*4.  Opaque  ;  vitreous  topearly.  Greenish  black.  C.c: 
45 -3  silica,  6*9  alumina,  38*3  iron  protoxide  (with  2  to  3  magnesia), 
and  9*5  water.     Zuckmantel  in  Silesia  and  'VVeilburg  in  Nassau. 

662.  CUAMOISITE. 

Oolitic  and  massive.  H.  -  3  ;  G.  -  3  to  3*4.  Greenish  grey  to 
black;  streak  paler.  C.c:  silica  14*3,  alumina  7*8,  protoxide  of 
iron  60*5,  w.atcr  17*4.  Chamoison  (or  Chamoson)  in  Valais,  the 
Vosges.  Bcvthicriiu:  has  75  (irotoxide  of  iron  and  5  of  water ; 
Moselle. 

AtrorrE  and  Hokkblende  Group.' 
Hornblende  and  augite  rather  represent  groups  of  mineral  sub- 
stances than   single   species.     They  are  best   distinguished  when 
imperfectly  foimed,  by  the  cleavage  and  angles  of  the  prisms. 

663.  E.\*sTATrrE  (ChlndnUe),  SlgSi . 


,  lUffcr  too  wldclv  to  jiistify  their  anion,     Homblende  la  more  fusible, 

and  ranees  lower  In  Bpcclfic  gravity  (homblende  from  2-931  to  8-445,  aoKlto 
3-195  to  3-525).  lliough  boTh  posscsa  s  clearage  parallel  to  their  vertical 
prisms,  yet  these  differ  In  angular  dimensions :— hornblende  124*  12',  ougite  87* 
6*.  They  also  occur  indistinct  geognostic  positions; — hornblende  in  rocl^s  con- 
taining quartz  or  freo  silica,  and  mostly  Vfitll  minerals  that  arc  neuti-al  compoantJa 
of  silica,  as  orlhoclase  and  atblte ;  augite  in  rocks  that  do  not  contain  free  silica, 
and  mostly  with  minerals  that  are  not  neutral  silicates,  as  labradoilte,  olivine,  and 
leucite.  Hence  there  arc  two  distinct  series  of  massive  or  igneous  roclts  : — the 
hornblende  series,  including  grsnlte,  syenite,  dlorlte,  dioritc-porphyry.  and  red 
porphyry  ;  and  the  augite  series  or  hypcrsthese  rock,  gabbro,  dolerlte,  nepbellae 
roca,  au^ito-porpbyry,  and  Icucltc-potpbyry. 


Right  prismatic  ooP  92°  to  98°;  crystals  ooP<o  (o), 
ooP  (m),  JP.O  (i),  jI'M  (9), 
Jpco  (+),  iP  (t)  (fig.  497). 
Usually  imbedded,  or  indis- 
tinct granular  masses.  Cl. 
macrodiagonal   very  perfect, 

Srismatic  ooPdistinct,  brachy- 
iagonal  imperfect.  H.  =  5*5; 
G.  -31  to  3-3.  Translucent 
throughout,  or  only  on  the 
edges  ;  vitreous  or  pearly  on 
the  more  perfect  cleavage- 
planes.  Colourless,  greyish 
or  greenish  white,  yellowish, 
or  brown.  Not  affected  by 
acids.     B.B.  almost  infusible.  Fig.  497. 

C.c:  60  silica  and  40  magnesia,  but  with  6  to  8  iron  protoxide, 
1  to  2  alumina,  and  1  or  2  water.  In  olivine  and  serpentine 
ro^ks  in  Moravia,  the  Harz  (Baste),  and  the  Pyrenees. 

564.  Bronzite  {SchilUr  Spar,  Saslik),  (Mg,  te)Si. 

Bight  prismatic  ooP  94° ;  only  granular  and  foliated.  Cl. 
brachydiagonal  perfect,  prismatic  less  so  ;  fracture  uneven,  splin- 
tery. H. -4  to  5;  G. -3  to  3*5.  Translucent  on  thin  edges; 
metallic  pearly.  Green,  inclining  to  yellow  or  brown.  Imper- 
fectly soL  in  h.  acid,  wholly  in  s,  acid.  B.B.  becomes  magnetic, 
and  fuses  in  very  thin  splinters.  C.c:  43  silica,  26  magnesia,  2*7 
lime,  7*4  iron  protoxide,  3*3  iron  peroxide,  2*4  chrome  oxide,  1*7 
alumina,  and  12*4  water.  BaHitc  is  possibly  altered  enstatite. 
Belhelvio  and  Black  Dog  in  Aberdeenshire,  Baste,  Tyrol,  Baireuth, 
Styria. 

565.  PAtTLITE  {Hyperstheiw),  (Fe,  J'lg)Si. 

Right  prismatic  ooP  (m)  93°  30',  P2  (c),  2P2  (0,  iH  («)> 
oop2  (n),  iP«>  (A),  ooPoo  (a),  oofoo  (6),  Jpoo  (i),  2Poo  (rf). 
Granular  or  disseminated.  CL  brachydiagonal  very  perfect, 
prismatic  ooP  distinct,  macrodiagonal  very  imperfect.  H.  =  6  ; 
6.  —3*3  to  3*4.  Opaque  or  translucent  on  thin  edges  ;  vitreous  or 
resinous,  but  metallic  pearly  on  the  cleavage  planes,  of  which  one  is 
■^p^s^  copper-coloured  to  violet  or  silvery.  Pitch- 
black  and  greyish  black  ;  stieak  greenish  grey 
or  pinchbeck-'brown,  inclining  to  copper-reti 
Not  affected  by  aoids.     B.B.  melts  more  or 


Fig.  498.  Fig.  499. 

less  easily  to  a  greenish  black  glass.  Often  magnetic  C.c  :  gene- 
rally 46  to  58  silica,  0  to  4  alumina,  11  to  "JS  magnesia,  1  to  5 
lime,  13  to  34  iron  protoxide,  0  to  6  manganese  protoxide.  Portsoy 
and  Craig  Buroch  in  Banffshire,  Bana  Hill  in  Aberdeenshire,  Paul's 
Island,  Labrador,  and  Greenland.  Crystals  occur  in  eauadine 
bombs  at  Lake  Laach  {AmUysttgiU),  and  in  meteorites  of  Breiten- 
bach.  Hypeisthene  rock  in  Norway,  Elfdal  in  Sweden,  Cornwall 
(!),  the  Harz,  and  Canada.  Chemically  enstatite  and  paulite  pass 
into  one  another  ;  the  essential  difference  is  that  the  axial  dispersion 
is  uniformly  (><i/  in  the  former,  and  the  opposite  in  the  latter. 
566.  WOLLASTONiTE(TaJi<?ar  5^o)),  CaSi. 
Oblique   prismatic,   C  84°  30'.      ooP  87°  18',     OP  («  or   *'), 

ooP«  (c  01  p),  ooPJ  (2)  110°  7', 

ooP'2(xor<051°,  -Peo  (»)44° 

27',  ^Poo  (o)  69°  56'  (fig.  600). 

Rarely     crystallized,     mostly 

broad   prismatic    or    laminar. 

Frequently  fibrous.     Cl.  along 

OP    and    e»P°oo    perfect,    but 

planes  uneven  or  rough  ;  meet 

at  95°  23'.       H.  -  4  -5   to  5  ; 

G.  -  2  -8  to  2  9.     Translucent ; 

vitreous  or  pearly  on  cleavage. 

White,  iucliniiig  to  grey,  yellow,  red,  or  brown  ;  streak  vhite. 


Fig.  SCO. 


416 


MINERALOGY 


Phosphoresce  with  heat  or  friction ;  gelatinizes  in  h.  acid.  B.B. 
difficultly  fosibio  to  a  scniitninsparciit  glass.  C.c:  51-7  silica 
and  48 '3  lime,  but  with  0 
to  2  magnesia  and  0  to  2 
iron  protoxide.  Glen  Gaim, 
Crathie,  ice,  in  Aberdeen- 
shire, Urquhart  in  Inver- 
ness, Skye,  Banat,  Finland, 
Sweden,  Vesuvius  (fig.  501), 
North  America,  Ceylon,  Capo 
di  Bove. 

56/.    AuoiTK    (Pyroxene), 
KSi-(Ca,  %,  fe)Si. 

Obliqueprismatic,  C  74*11'. 
ooP87^6'^;  P(i:s)120°4S'; 

-P(t0131°30';    2P(o)95° 


Fig.  501  (sp.  566). 


4S';  OP;  3P ;  ocPoco.  In  fig.  130  o=P  (J/),  ooP^oj  (r),  o>P«a> 
(OfP(s):  also  various  twins  and  hemitropes  of  same  form  (figs. 
191,  502,  503).  Almost  alwaj-s  prismatic,  imbedded,  or  attached  ; 
ako  granular,  columnar,  and  scaly.     CL  prismatic  along  oaP  (with 


Fig-  502.  "*'    Fig.  503. 

angles  of  87°  6'  and  92°  54'X  generally  rather  imperfect ;  ortho- 
diagonal  and  clinodiagonal  imperfect.  H.  =  5  to  6  ;  G.  -  3  to  3  5. 
PeUncid  in  all  degrees;  vitreous;  in  some  pearly  on  06P°<o.  Colour- 
less, and  white,  but  usually  grey,  green,  or  black  B.  B.  generally 
fusible;  imperfectly  soluble  in  a'cids.     C.c.  generallyas  follows 


|smc».|Lime. 

Magnesia. 

Iron. 

ic 

25  M 

23-81 

16-24 
8-50 

14-97 
2S-e5 

(6)  Magnesia-iron 
(e)  IroQ  Bugite  — 

aufiite 

.../. 52-72 

Analysis  gives  47  to  56  silica,  20  to  25  lime,  5  to  16  magnesia, 
1  to  20  iron  protoxide,  with  0  to  3  manganese  protoxide  and  0  to  8 
alumina.  The  alumina,  chiefly  found  in  very  dark  green  or  black 
angites,  may  in  some  replace  either  silica  or  part  of  the  silicate. 

The  more  important  varieties  are-^ 

Piopsitk.—Gttyish  or  greenish  white,  to  pearl-grey  or  leek-green; 
streak  white.  Crystallized  or  broad  columnar,  or  concentric 
Iamell.ir.  Transparent  to  translucent  on  the  edges.  Xot  afi'ected 
by  acids.  B.B.  fuses  to  a  whitish  semitransparent  glass.  C.c: 
generiUy  lime  26  and  magnesia  185,  with  55-5  silica,  llussa  Alp 
(iliLssUe)  and  Ala  {Alalitc)  in  Piedmont,  Schwarzenstein  in  Tyrol, 
Scandinavia,  Finland,  Urals,  and  Xorth  America. 

MalacolUe,  Snhlite.—\\'\ale,  green,  rarely  yellow,  brown   or  red; 
streak  white.     Translucent,  or  only  on 
the  edges ;  vitreous,  inclining  to  pearly. 
Seldom  crystallized,  mostly  columnar 


Fis.  505. 


§f^- 


Fij.  504. 
or  lamellar.     B.B.    melu  to  a   dark- 
coloured  glass.     Malacolite  common  in 
primary  Uuiestoncs  in  Scotland,  as  at 
Shinuess,  Ledbe"  (fig.  505),  and  Glea 


Fig.  606. 


oninuess,  L«:aDe<!  (ng.  sua),  and  tilea  ng.  wo. 

Tilt     Fasia  Valley  i^FataaiU),  Kcdjaont.  .Vrcadal,  Philijutaut  in 


Sweden;  LaV.e  Baikal  (BaiJaiUU):  near  Lake  Ll>5r2  in  the  Pyrenees 
(.Lhtr^olilr.) ;  Sila  (or  Sahla)  in  Sweden  (Sahlitt) ;  Shinness  (figs. 
504,  500),  Gleaelg,  Tirce,  in  Scotland ;  Tyrol  ;  North  America. 
CoccoliU  is  a  granular  sahlite  or  angite. 

AugiU. — I^k-green.  greenish  olack,  or  velvet-black,  r»rsly 
brown  ;  streak  greenish  grey.  Vitreous  to  resinous  ;  translucent 
or  opaque.  Only  slightly  affected  by  acids.  B.  B.  fuses  to  a  black, 
often  magnetic  'glass.  An  essential  component  of  many  rocks, 
as  basalt,  dolerite,  clinkstone,  and  augite  porphyry  ;  Germany, 
Auvergne,  Vesuvius;  St  Hilda,  Bum,  Tiree,  Dalnain,  and Urqnh.irt 
in  Scotland.  Augite  crj'stals  in  basalt  often  contain  very  many  mi- 
croscopic crj'stals  and  glasses  ;   also  pores  with  fluid  carbonic  acid. 

SudsoniU. — Cleavable  lamellar,  and  jet-black,  with  green  streak 
and  bronzy  tarnish,  from  the  Hudson  river  ;  the  most  mghly  ferru- 
ginous variety. 

Amiaiilhus. — Some  osbestiform  minerals  are  augite,  but  the 
greater  number  hornblende. 

BreislackiU. — Fine  yellowish  or  brown  woolly  crystals.  Vesuvius, 
and  Capo  di  Bove  near  Bome. 

568.  DuxLAOE,  (Ca,  Mg,  fe)Si. 

Like  angite,  and  only  a  variety  with  very  perfect  cleavage  in 
the  clinodiagonal,  wliich  forms  with  a  second  cleavage  an  angle  of 
87°.  Lustre  metallic  pearly ;  colour  grey  or  pinchbeck-brown. 
H. -4;  G.  =3-23.  B.B.  melts  easily  to  a  grejish  or  greenish 
enamel.  C.c.:  50  to  53  silica,  1  to  5  alumina,  35  to  23  magnesirs 
11  to  20  lime,  and  5  to  20  manganese  protoxide.  Constituent  of 
the  augite  rock  of  the  Cuchullins  in  Skye  and  of  the  gabbro  of  L'nst 
and  Ayrshire.  Baste  in  -the  Harz,  Silesia,  the  Alps,  Apennin'^ 
and  Urals.  VanadiTU-BronziU,  containing  soda  and  vanadic  scij^ 
is  similar.    At  Craig  Buroch  (Banff"shire)  diallagc  passes  in  paulite. 

569.  Jeffeesoxite. 

Oblique  prismatic.  CI.  prismatic  ooP  87°  30',  and  orthodiagonaL 
H.  =  4*5;  G.™  3  "3  to  3  •5.  Dark  olive-green,  brown  to  black.  Lustre 
greasy.  A  manganese  and  zinc  angite,  ^\-ith  10-2  protoxide  of 
manganese,  and  10'15  oxide  of  zinc.     Sparta  in  New  Jersey. 

570.  AcMFTE,  2FeSi,-l-3RSi. 

Oblique  prismatic.  Crystals  long  often  acute-pointed  prisms. 
O.P  87°  15',  o=P<o  (r),  P(5),  6P  (t),  -  6P'3(c)  (figs.  507,  508).  CL 
like  augite.  H.  =6  to  6 '5; 
G.=3-4  to  3-6.  Nearly 
opaque;  vitreous.  Brownish 
or  greenish  black ;  streak 
greenish  grey.  Imperfectly 
soluble  in  acids.  B.B.  fuses 
easily  to  a  black  magnetic 
glass.  C.  c. :  52  silica,  30  iron 
peroxide,  5  iron  protoxide, 
and  13  soda,  but  with  1  to  3 
manganese  jieroxide,  and  also 
3  to  4  titanic  acid.  Eger  and 
Porsgrund  in  Norway. 

571.  .£c£KiXE,K^"i5-H'8Si 
-h2SfaSi. 

Oblique  prismatic;  striated  f"'S-  507-  (Sp.  570.)  Fig.  508. 
or  reed-like  prisms  of  66°  30'  to  87'  45'.  C\.  orthodiagonal  per- 
fect, less  distinct  clinodiagonal,  and  prismatic.  H.  —  6'5  to  6; 
G. -3-4  to  3-5  or  36.  Vitreous;  translucent  on  edges,  or  opaque.' 
Greenish  black.  B.B.  fuses  easily,  colouring  the  flame  yellow. 
Scarcely  affected  by  acids.  C.c:' 49  silica,  317  iron  peroxide, 
6-6  iron  (and  manganese)  protoxide,  and  127  soda,  with  a  little 
magnesia  and  rwtash.  Has  the  same  relation  to  angite  as  arfved- 
sonite  to  hornblende.     Near  Brevig  and  Barkevig  in  Norway. 

572.  Spoduuene,  4i'li'i,-(-3(ti,  Sr,n,  ]t)Si. 

Oblimie  prismatic,  C  69°  40'.  ooP  S7°  (fig.  509).  CI.  prismatic  0.P 
and  ortliodiogonal,  perfect;  chiefly  m.issive 
or  foliated.  H.  «.6o  to  7;  G. -31  to 
32.  Translucent ;  vitreous  or  i)early. 
Pale  greenish  grey  or  white  to  appl'e- 
green;  streak  white.  B.B.  intumesces 
slightly,  tinging  the  flame  momenurilv 
purphsh  red,  and  fuses  easily  to  a  colour- 
less glass.  Not  afl'cctcd  by  acids,  C.c: 
65  silica,  2S7  alumin.i,  and  6-3  lithia. 
Killincy  near  Dublin,  Uto  in  Sweden 
T>-rol.  KilUniu  (sp.  651),  from  Killiney, 
seems  to  be  decomposed  spodumcne. 

573.  Petaute  ICastor),  4'AlSi,'^S;t!, 
lJa)Si,. 

Oblionc  prismatic     Castor  has  C  67° 
34'  and   ooP  86°  20',    in   irregular  rect- 
angular prisms,  potalite    being   massive        Pig-  509  (sp.  572). 
and   coarse  granular.    CL  basal,  distinct;  in  a  second   directioa 


MINERALOGY 


417 


Fig.  511. 


(meeting  at  141i°)  less  so.  H. -6-5;  G. -2-4to  25.  Greenisn, 
greyish,  or  reddish  vthite  to  pale  red.  Translucent ;  vitreous  or 
pearly.  B.B.  melts  easily  into  a  porous  obscure  glass,  colouring 
the  flame  red.  Not  affected  by  acids.  C.c. :  78'3  silica,  17'4  alu- 
mina, 3  2  lithia,  and  11  soda.  TTto,  Bolton  in  Massachusetts, 
Yorls  in  Canada.  Castor  in  Elba,  itilarite,  valley  of  Hilar, 
Switzerland. 

574.  RnoDONiTE  (Manganc$e-Spar),  JlnSi . 

.Vnorthic.  ooP«>(a);  »P«o  (J);  OP (c):  »?'{«);  f'oo  (t-);  Poo(j); 
'poo  (o);m'P'«.  (():  a:  6  111" 9';  c:  o93°28';n:  o  106°  19';  but 
chiefly  massive  or  granular. 
CI.  (»Poo  and  OP,  meeting 
at  87°  38',  perfect ;  brittle. 
H.  =  5  to  5-5;  0.-35  to 
3*7.  Tmnslucent ;  vitreous 
or  partly  pearly.  Dark 
rose-red,  bluish  red,  or  red- 
dish brown.  Not  affected 
by  acids.  B.B.  fusible. 
C.c:  45-8  silica  and  54-2 
manganese   protoxide,  with  ^^* 

3  to  5  lime  and  0  to  6  iron  protoxide.  St  Marcel,  Likngbani 
Ekaterinburg,  the  Harz,  and  New  Jersey.  BustamiU,  pale 
greenish  or  reddish  groy,  with  14  lime,  Mexico ;  FcrwleriU^  New 
Jersey,  with  7  to  11  iron  protoxide;  and  PaisbergiU,  Sweden,  are 
varieties.  Hydropite,  Pkoticiief  AUaffite,  and  Horn-Manganese 
are  mere  mixtures. 

575.  B.4.BINGT0NITE,  9{Ca,  i'e,  I'injSi-l-FeSij. 

Anorthic.  Crystals  very  low  eight-sided  prisms,  small,  attached, 
ff  :  A  90°  24' ;  c  :  a  87°  27'  ;  o  :  (>  112° 
12' ;  b:d  81°  8' ;  c  :  d  150°  10'  (fig. 
611).  CI.  basal  (c),  very  perfect;  also 
along  b.  H.-5-5  to  6;  G.  =  3-3  to 
3*4.  Thin  laminre  translucent.  Splen- 
dent vitreous  ;  black.  Not  affected  by 
acids.  B.B.. fuses  easily  wiih  efferves- 
cence to  a  black  magnetic  bead.  ^.c. ; 
50"7  silica,  11  iron  peroxide,  10'3  iron 
protoxide,  77  manganese  protoxide, 
and  20-3  lime,  in  the  Arendal  speci- 
mens ;  one  from  Nassau  gave  about 
17  of  peroxide,  with  protoxides  only  11.  Tongue  (Sutherland), 
Portsoy  (Banffshire),  Arendal,  Nassau,  and  Gouverneur  (New 
York). 

676.  SzABorrE,  ll¥eSi3  +  2CaSi. 

Anorthic.  o<>P'(;);  oo'P  (m)  88°  40' ;  ooPw  (J);  oopoo  (o) ;  F(p); 
*P  (o);  2'F,<x>  (y) ;  2p'oo  (x)  (fig.  512).  H.  = 
6  "6  ;  G.  =  3  "5.  Brownish  red  to  reddish 
yellow.  Pleoehroic  C.c. :  silica  52 '4,  per- 
oxide of  iron  44  7,  lime  3  1.  Slightly  sol. 
in  8.  acid,  more  so  in  h.  acid.  Calvario  on 
Etna,  Mont  Dore. 

577.  AXTHOPHYLLITE,  3l'lgSi -I- FcSi .  "' 
Eight    prismatic.      ooP   124°  30'.      CI. 

macrodiagonal,    perfect.      Clove-brown    to 

fiurplish  brown  and  leek-green.  Trans- 
ucent;  radiating  and  folinted.  Pearly  on 
cl.  plane.  H.  =  5-5  ;  G.  =3-2.  C.c. :  silica 
55 '9,  protoxide  of  iron  167,  magnesia  27  8. 

fusible.  Hillswick,  Shetland  ;  Kongsberg  and  Modum,  Norway"; 
Greenland,  and  the  United  States. 

578.  HORXDLEXDE. 

Oblique  prismatic  (figs.  513  to  517;  seo  also  6g.  192).  Distinct 
cleavage  in  several  direc:ions.  H.  =  4  to  6,  but  generally  5  (will 
scratch  with  knife);  G. -2-5to  4  0,  but  mostly  high.  Mostly 
coloured.  Lustre  vitreous,  in  some  silky  or  metallic  pearly.  Sol., 
but  not  very  re.idily,  in  acids;  more  or  less  easily  fusible.  C.c: 
anhydrous  silicates  and  aluminates  of  lime,  magnesia,  iron  pro- 
toxide; moro  sparingly  of  soda,  yttria,  and  manganese  protoxide. 
Tho  chief  species  form  by  their  decomposition  highly  fertile 
soils. 

./4m;)/ii4o?(;.— Oblique  prismatic,  C  75°  10'.  ooP  124°  30',  P 
148°  30'.  The  crystals  short  and  thick,  or  loug  and  thin  prismatic  ; 
formed,  especially  by  ooP  (,„),  ooP««  (x),  and  bounded  on  the 
ends  chiefly  by  OP  (;,)  and  P  (,).  Twins  common,  with  the 
chief  axis  the  twin  axis.  Very  ofteu  radiated,  fibrous,  or  columnar, 
"LJ?-""  ■,  ^h  prismatic  along  ooP  124i°,  very  perfect; 
ortfcdlagoiial  and  clinoUiagonal  very  imperfea.  H.=5  to  6; 
lr.-.!9  to  3-4.  Pellucid  in  all  degrees ;  vitreous,  but  sometimes 
pearly  or  silky.  Colourless  or  white,  but  usually  some  shade  of  Krey, 
yellow,  green,  brown,  or  black.  B.B.  fuses,  generally  iutumescin- 
aad  boiling,  to  a  grey,  green,  or  black  glass.     Those  containing 


■f^ 


Fig.  512  (sp.  576). 
B.B.  very  difficultly 


most  iron  are  most  fusible,  and  are  also  partially  soL  in  n.  acid, 
which  scarcely  affects  the  others.  C.c  very  variable.;  the  silica 
is  partly  replaced  by  alumina,  specially  in  the  green  or  black 
varieties;  KO  is  chiefly  MgO,  CaO,  and  FeO.     Lime  is  the  most 


c  Ig.  513.  Fig.  514. 

constant  element,  in  most  from  10tol2;magnesia  and  iron  protoxide 
replace  each  other,  the  one  increasing  as  the  other  diminishes. 
With  4Si  and  ft  — 2Mg-HCa-Hfe,  the  average  composition  is  63 '6 
silica,  17'8  magnesia,  12'5  lime,    and   16'1   iron   protoxide;  bat 


Fig.  515.  Fig.  516.  Fig.  517. 

analyses  give  40  to  60  silica,  0  to  17  alumina,  0  to  30  magnesia, 
10  to  15  lime,  0  to  36  iron  protcxide  (or  peroxide),  and  0  to  4 
manganese  protoxide,  0  to  8  soda,  0  to  3  potash,  and  0  to  15 
fluorine  with  a  little  water. 

The  more  important  varieties  are — 

Amianlhzis,  Asbestos,  ini  BtjssoliU,  2ilgSi -H  CaSi .  Fine  fibrous. 
White,  grey,  or  green.  The  fibres  ,often  easily  separable,  elastic, 
and  flexible.     Unst,  Shinness,  Portsoy,  Savoy,  Tyrol,  Corsica, 

TrcmoHte,  Grammaiite,  SltgSi -^  CaSi,  with  68 '35  silica,  28  •Sg 
magnesia,  and  13  "26  lime.  Wiiite,  grey,  green  ;  in  long  prismatic 
crystals,  often  striated  longitudinally.  Pearly  or  silky ;  semi- 
transparent  or  translucent.  B.B.  fuses  readily  to  a  white  or  nearly 
colourless  glass.  Loch  Shin  (Sutherland),  Glen  Tilt,  Gleneig, 
Tiree,  Cornwall,  Cumberland,  Sweden,  the  Alps,  Pyrenees,  Silesia, 
Siberia,  North  America. 

Nephrite,  or  Jade,  is  a  tough,  compact,  fine-grained  tremolite,  with 
H.  — 6  to  6'5  ;  G  =29  to  31.  Fracture  close  splintery.  Very 
tenacious.  Translucent ;  dull  to  resinous.  Leek-green  to  blackish 
green.  Feels  slightly  greasy.  Formerly  made  into  ring-stones, 
amulets,  idols,  and  war  axes.  New  Zealand^  China,  Mexico,  Peru, 
BalU  (Shetland). 

ActinoUle,  Aclinote,  or  Slrahlstiin  (Ca,  Jig,  f  e)  Si .  Colour 
green,  inclining  to  black,  grey,  or  brown.  Translucent  througii- 
out,  or  only  on  the  edges.  Long  prismatic  crystals,  or  radiated- 
columnar. masses.  B.B.  melts  to  a  greenish  or  blackish  enamel. 
Fethaland  and  Colafirth  and  Hillswick  (Shetland),  Oronsay,  Ord 
Ban  (Inverness),  Sweden,  Tyrol,  North  America. 

EornbUnde. — eRSi-fSjSij.  Green  or  black,  seldomer  brown  or 
grey.  G. -31  to  3-3.  B.B.  fuses  rather  easily  to  a  yellow, 
greenish,  or  black  enamel.  Three  varieties  are  distinguished,  (a) 
The  noble  or  Pargasil^,  pale  celadon-  or  olive-green,  and  strojt;^ 
pearly  or  vitreous  lustre  ;  at  Pargas  in  Finland,  Tyrie  in  Scotland. 
(6)  Common  hornblende,  dark  leek-  or  blackish-green,  opaque  ; 
streak  greenish  grev.  A  constituent  of  many  rocks,  as  in  Norway, 
the  Alps,  and  Scottish  Highlands  (Ballater,  Ben  Arihaar,  Glen- 
bucket,  Colafirth).  (e)  Basaltic,  foliated,  with  bright  even  cleavag.-, 
opaque,  velvet-black ;  streak  grey  or  brown.  Generally  contains 
alumina  (9  to  15)  and  much  (5  to  11)  iron  peroxide.  In  basalt  and 
volcanic  rocks:    Etna,  Vesuvius,  Rhineland,  Bohemia. 

XVL  —  Si 


418 


MINERALOGY 


579.  ARrrEDsoNiTE,  KSi +$ebi5 . 

Obliquo  prismatic.  ocP;  ooP^m  ;  P;  2P°oo  120°  24';  OP.  CL  ooP 
124°  22',  perfect;  also  OP.  Maesive.  Black;  opaque.  Vitreous. 
H.  — 6;  G.  — 3'44.  C.c. :  silica  43,  alumina  45,  peroxide  of  irou 
3-8,  proto.tido  34,  limo  57,  soja  8'5.  Streak  dark  blue-grey. 
Fusible  in  fine  splinters  in  the  flame  of  a  caudle.  B.B.  intu- 
mesces  and  melts  easily  to  a  black  magnetic  globule.  Not  sol. 
in  acids.  Kangerdluarsuk  in  Greenland,  Frederiksvarn,  Arcndal, 
El  Paso  in  Colorado. 

680.  PiLOUTE,  4J"IgSi,+':^rSi;  +  15S. 

Felted  or  matted  fibres  moro  or  less  dense.  Cream  yellow  to 
buff.  Dull ;  extremely  tougb  ;  absorbs  water  like  a  sponge. 
H.  - 1  to  2-5  ;  G.  -  -68  to  1  -34.  Structure  varies  considerably,  aud 
has  given  rise  to  trivial  names,  as  mountain  paper,  mountain 
leather,  mountain  flesh,  rock  cork,  kc.  MomUavi  I'apcr  occurs  in 
thin  sheets  at  Boyna  Castle  near  Banff ;  Mountain  Ltather,  Burn 
of  the  Cairn  (Cabracli),  Tod  Head  (Kincardineshire),  Leadhills, 
Strontian  ;  Sock  Cork,  Portsoy  aud  Boyno  Castle,  Saxony,  and 
Sweden.  C.c. :  silica  51'6,  alumina  86,  ferrous  oxide  2S8, 
magnesia  10"2,  water  23 "3. 

581.  Krokidolite,  3FeSi  +  (Sa,  Mg)Si.  +  2fi . 

Delicate,  easily  separable,  but  tou"h  fibres  ;  elastic  H.  =  4  ; 
G.  =3'2  to  3 '3.  Translucent  ;  silky,  fndigo-blue  ;  streak  lavender. 
B.B.  fuses  easily  to  a  black  magnetic  glass.  C.c:  silica 50*3,  iron 
protoxide  35,  magnesia  2 '2,  soda  67,  water  5 '8.  Stavern  in 
Norway,  Gi-eenland.  A  iibrous  yellow  mineral  from  Orange  river. 
South  Africa,  has  been  referred  here  ;  its  fibres  are  not  separable, 
and  its  hardness  is  7.  AbriachaniU.  a  very  similar  mineral,  of  blue 
colour,  occurs  near  Inverness. 

582.  Glaucopha>.-e,  91tSi  +  2*1313 . 

Oblique  prismatic.  CI.  prismatic,  perfect ;  fracture  conchoidal. 
H.  — 6'S;  G.  — S'l.  Translucent;  vitreous  to  pearly.  Indigo- 
blue,  grey,  bluish  black.  B.B.  becomes  brown,  fusing  easily  to 
olive-green  glass.  Co.:  silica  56 '5,  alumina  12*2.  protoxide  of 
iron  10-9,  magnesia  8,  soda  9-3.     Island  of  Syra. 

583.  HcnM.^NN-iTE,  j'lnSi . 

Granular  aud  arborescent.  Rose-red.  G.  =  3-4.  C.  c. :  protoxide 
of  manganese  46  7,  silica  48  "9,  lime  2,  maguesia  2*4.  Cummiugton 
in  Massachusetts. 

5S4.  GiiusEKiTE,  FeSi. 

Asbestiform.  G.  —  37.  Brown ;  silky  lustre.  C.c. :  protoxide  of 
iron  51-55,  silica  45-45.     Mt.  dcs  Manres  (Var). 

535.  loLITE  {Cordicrite,  Z)ic/iroi(«),  A^Sij-H  2(Mg,  Fe)Si. 

Right  prismatic.  ooP  {P)  119"  10',  middle  edge  of  P  95°  36'. 
Form  ooP  (T),  oofoo  {I),  OP  (m)  ;  and  this  with  mPm  (i), 
ooP3  (rf),  P»  («)>  and  JP  (j),  (fig.  518);  short,  prismatic  CI. 
ooPoo  distinct,  traces  along  Pm  ;  fi-acture  conchoidal  or  uneven. 
H. -7  to  7-5;  G. -2-5  to  27.  Trans- 
parent or  translucent  ;  vitreous,  inclining 
to  resinous.  Colourless,  but  chiefly  dark 
hlue,  or  violet,  green,  brown,  yellow,  and 
grey.  Often  with  distinct  trichroism ;  on 
OP  blue,  on  o-Poo  grey,  and  on  oopto  yel- 
lowish. B.B.  fuses  difficultly  to  a  clear 
^lass  ;  slightly  affected  by  acids.  C.c. :  48 
to  51  silica,  29  to  33  alumioa,  8  to  13  mag- 
nesia, 1  to  12  iron  protoxide.  Cabo  do  Gata 
in  Spain,  Bodenmais  !,PcUom),  Orijerfvi  in 
Finland  ISIcnJuilitc),  Norway,  Sweden, 
Orcenland,  North  America,  aud  Siberia. 
Small  rolled  masses  of  an  intense  blue  colour 
and  transparent,  found  in  Ceylon,  are  the 
Sapphire  (CSnu  or  Luch$$apphir  of  the  jewellera. 

The  following  have  been  considered  cortlierite  altered,  or  with  2  to 
-6  atoms  water: — (rt)  BoJisdorJilc,  Hydrous  foiiU,  greenish  brown  or 
dark  olivo-green  ;  near  Abo.  (4)  JSsmnrkUe,  Clihrophyllile,  large 
prisms  or  foliated,  gi-con  or  brownish  ;  near  Cabrach  (Aberdeen), 
Brerig  in  Norway,  Unity  in  Blaine,  and  Hivldam  in  Connecticut 
\c)  F^UimiU^  TriclasiU,  com  pact,  greenish  bi-own  or  bhick,  foliated  ; 
H.-2-5  to  3;  0.-25  to  28;  Falun,  (d)  Huronilc,  granular; 
pearly,  yellowish-grcon  ;  H  — 3-3;  G.  —  2-86;  infusible  and  insol- 
uble ;  Lake  Huron,  (t)  JFcissiU,  kidney-shaped  and  ash-grey  or 
brown  ;  Falun  and  Lower  Canada.  (/)  PyrarjilliU,  indistinct 
imbedded  crystals,  black  passing  into  brown  or  red,  dull  resinous 
lustre;  H. -36;  G. -2  5;  Hclsingfors.  (?)  PiniU,  crysUUired, 
or  missive  and  laminar,  with  imperfect  cleavage;  H.  — 2  to  3; 
<3. -27  to  2-9,  scmitranslucont  or  op.aquo,  dull  or  resinous,  and 
dirty  grey,  green,  or  brown  ;  B.  B.  fuses  to  a  ghiss,  sometimes  clear, 
at  other  timas  dark-coloured ;  Auvei-gne,  Schneeberg,  Pcni^  in 
Saxony,  the  Harz,  Cornwall,  C&bracU  and  Xorry  (Aberdseouin), 


Fig.  518. 


the  United  States,  and  Greenland  (Oitxddte,  %f.  650).  OosiU  from 
GeroldsAU  in  Baden,  snow-white,  opaque,  fragile,  is  similar.  (A) 
QigantoliU  ;  H.  —  S'S  ;  G.  —  2  8  to  2  9;  opaque,  dull  resinous,  and 
greenish  grey  or  brown  ;  B.  B.  intumesces  slightly,  and  fuses  easily 
to  a  greenish  slag  ;  Tanimela  in  Finland.  (i)  PrascoliU  lamellar 
and  green;  Brevig  in  Norway. 

586.  Emerald  (Beryl),  'i^lSi,  -h  SGlSi . 

Hexagonal ;  P  69°  53'.  Crystals  of  c»P,  OP,  and  o»P,  ooP2,  OP,"  P 
(n,  p,  d,  s,  fig.  519)  are  prismatic, 
generally  with  vertical  atriie.  CI. 
basal,  rather  perfect;  ooP  im- 
perfect. H.- 7 -6  to  8;  0.-26 
to  2  8.  Transparent  or  trans- 
lucent ;  vitreous.  Colourless  or 
white,  but  generally  green,  some- 
times very  brilli.-.nt;  also  yellow 
and  smalt-blue.  B.B.  melts  with 
difl[iculty  on  the  edges  to  an  obscure 
vesicular  glass.  Not  affected  by 
acids.  C.c:  67  5  silica,  18-7 
alumina,  and  13-8  glucina,  with 
0  3  to  3  iron  peroxide,  and  0  3 
to  3-5  chrome  oxide  in  the  rich 
green  emerald.  Ejncrald,  bright 
green  ;  G.  -2710  to  2-769;  occurs 
in  Muso  Valley  near  Bogota,  also  *^K-  ^l^- 

in  Salzburg  and  the  Urals.  BerrjJ,  or  Aquarnari^u,  colourless,  or 
less  brilliant;  G.  -2677  to  2-725  ;  near  JIursinsk  and  Ncrtcllinsk 
in  Siberia,  Salzburg,  and  Brazil  ;  in  the  United  States,  where  at 
Grafton,  between  the  Connecticut  and  Merrimack,  crystals  4  to  6 
feet  louw,  and  weighing  2000  to  3000  lb,  occur  :  Mourne  Moun- 
tains in  Ireland ;  Mount  Battock  and  Cairngorm  in  Scotland  (fig. 
98).  Common  Beryl  at  Falun  in  Sweden,  Fossum  in  Norway, 
Limoges  in  France,  Rabenstein  in  Bavaria,  Nigg  Bay  and  Pitfodels 
and  Rubislaw  near  Aberdeen  {Daridsonite),  Struay  Bridge  (Ross), 
Emerald  and  beryl  are  much  valued  as  precious  stones.  Known 
from  quartz  by  face  p.    Forms  shown  in  figs.  92,  95,  96,  97,  98,  276. 

687.  Leucophane,  6CiiSi-f  3Giei  +  2NaF. 

Right  prismatif.  ooP  91°.  CI.  basal  perfect.  H. -3-5  to  4; 
G.  —  2-97.  Pellucid.  -Wine-yellow  to  olive-green.  Vitreous. 
B.B.  fuses  to  i>ale  violet-blue  bend.  C.c:  silica  47,  lime  23'4, 
glucinalO-7,  soda  113,  fluorine  6-6.     Lamo  in  Norway. 

588.  Melinophake,  7(k3Si;)-h6NaF. 

Pymmidal.  P  122°  23'.  'Mostly  lamellar.'  H."- 5 ;  G.=|. 
Honey -yellow  to  citron-yellow.     Brevig  and  Frederiksviirn.  • 

Felspae  GRorp. 

Crystallization  oblique  prismatic  or  anoi-thic ;  vei-y  similar  both 
in  aspect  and  in  angles.  CI.  very  distinct,  especially  the  basal  P; 
less  so  the  clino-  or  brachydiagonal  JI.  G.  =  2-4  to  32,  but  mostly 
2-5  to  2-8;  H. -6or  a  little  more.  Slightly  or  not  .at  all  soluble  in 
acids.  B.B.  fusible,  but  often  with  dirticulty.  Ti-anslucent;  pure 
varieties  transparent  Colourless,  white,  or  shades  of  red  ;  less 
commonly  of  green  or  yellow.  C.c:  anhydrous  silicates  of  alumina, 
and  of  an  alkali  or  alkaline  earth.  \ 

The  felspars  are  very  important  constituents  of  the  earth's  crust, 
occurring  in  nearly  all  the  igneous  rocks,  and  in  many  of  tho 
stratified  crystalline  schists.  In  true  strata  they  arc  found  chiefly 
as  fragments  or  decomposed,  and  in  tho  latter  state  form  a  large 
part  of  wet  soils  and  clays.  By  tho  older  mineralogists  and  iu 
popular  language  many  s|>ecies  are  conjoined  under  the  common 
name  of  felspar  which  are  now  considered  as  distinct,  each  of  tlieni 
having  not  only  its  peculiar  physical  and  chemical  characters,  but 
also  gcognostic  position  and  associated  groujis  of  minerals.  Thus 
orthoclase,  and  the  other  more  siliceous  felsi>ars  w-ith  potash,  abound 
iu  granite  and  the  plutonic  rocks  ;  the  less  siliceous,  with  soda  and 
lime,  characterize  the  volcanic  rocks, — e.7.,  labradorite  the  basaltic 
group,  glassy  felspar  the  trachytic  Orthoclase  is  associated  with 
quartz,  liornbleade,  and  mica;  glassy  felspar  either  with  lioniblcnde 
aud  a  black  mica  or  with  nugite  ;  labradorite  with  augite,  vcrj 
rarely  with  quartz  or  hornblende. 

The  felspars  ai^  best  knowu  from  similar  minerals  by  their  hard- 
ness (they  scarce  scratch  with  a  good  knife),  diflicult  fusibility,  and 
unequal  cleavages.  The  following  marks  may  aid  the  student  in 
distinguishing  the  moro  common  species.  In  orthoclase  the  basal 
cleavage  plane  forms  a  right  angle  with  the  clinodiagonal  cleavage 
planes  it  on  both  hands  ;  in  the  triclinic  or  pingioclaso  felspars 
tlie  angles  are  unequal.  Orthoclase,  albite,  andesine,  and  oligoolaso 
are  insoluble  in  acids  ;  labradorite  and  anorthite  are  more  or  Icsa 
soluble.  In  granite,  when  decomposing,  orthoclaso  often  become* 
reddish  or  dark-red  ;  oligoclase  dull  greeu,  and  at  length  white.  •  4 

Walterhausen  considers  that  the  felspars  are  mixtures  of  three  true 
species,  forming  a  scries  with  the  oxygen  of  tOie  silica,  alumina,  an* 
BO  in  the  pi-oportious  z  :  3  : 1,— j:  ranging  from  24  to  4.     Tcher- 


MINERALOGY 


419 


faak  and  most  mineralogists  now  tase  a  similar  riew,  regarding 
orthocUsa,  albite,  and  anorthito  alone  as  trae  species,  of  which  the 
others  are  mixtures.  Those  consisting  essentially  of  potash  and  soda 
only  are  mechanical  mixtures  of  ortlioclaae  and  albite,  the  distinct 
lamells  being  visible  by  the  toicroscope ;  those  again  that  contain 
aaMntially  limo  and  soda  together  are,  sometimes  at  least,  chemical, 
being  isombrphoos  compounds  of  albite  and  anorthita  in  varions 
proportions,  and  with  corresponding  transitions  in  crystallographic 
ana  physical  properties.  Notwithstanding  this,  these  intermediates 
most  be  regarded  as  independent  mineral  species,  inasmuch  as  they 
•n  seTeralfy  typical  of  certain  rocks,  and  have  characteristic  forms 
differing  from  each  other  in  angular  inclination. 

689.  Obthoclase, 'ilSij'+feSi,. 

Obliciue  prismatic, C- 63°  67':  ooP  (Tand  /)  llS"  47' ;  P°"  (i) 
K' iff  ;  JP'eo  (n)  90"  71';  2poco  (y)35°4B'.  The  commonest  and 
mmplest  forms  ai«  ooP,  OP,  Pooo ,  and  ooPoo  (Jf),  <»P,  OP  (P), 
2P»iio  (figs.  620  to  627).     WTien  ooP  predominates  the  crystals 


Ilg.  520. 


Fig.  523. 
are  short  rhombic  prisma  ; 
when  ooP*oo  predominates 
they  are  tabular;  when 
ooP  and  ooP*oo  predomi- 
nate they  are  short  hexa- 
gonal prismatic,  when  OP 
and  <»P"oo  they  are  rect- 
angular prismatic,  often 
mncfa  lengthened.  Twins 
are  very  frequent,  and 
occnr  according  primarily 
to      four      laws.        Firtt, 


Fig.  627. 


Fig.  626. 
through  revolution  of  one  half  or  of  a  whole  crystal,  then  forming 
interpenetrating  twins  round  a  vertical  axis  (fig.  195).  In  the  case 
of  thia  homitropic  revolution  one  of  the  external  faces  becomes  a 
face  of  union.  According  as  the  right  or  the  left  half  (or  whole 
crystal)  is  conceived  to  be  that  which  has  been  revolved  the  crystals 
are  termed  right  and  left,  as  in  figs.  168,  189.  Second,  by  revolution 
of  one  half  around  an  axis  normal  to  Jf ;  in  such  twins  the  com- 
position is  not  evidenced  externally  except  by  sutures.      Third, 


Fig.  528. 


Fig.  529. 


Fig.  63a 

through  revolution  round  an  axis  normal  to  P,  forming  orthorhombio 
prisms  which  show  a  herring-bone  lineation,  through  the  meeting  of 
stria  commonly  present  upon  the  face  .J/^  parallel  to  the  intersection 
of  its  edge  with  the  face  T  (fig.  628).  Fourth,  by  revolution  round 
an  axis  normal  to  2P'm  (n)  ;  this  also  forms  a  prism  the  section  of 
which  is  nearly  square  (fig.  529).  Compound  twins  on  thia  last 
type  are  formed  of  3  to  4  and  8  crystals  (Bg.  53o), 

Occurs  also  massive,  and  coarse  or  fine  granular.  CL  basal  (P), 
■nry  perfect;  clinodlagonal  {IT),  perfect  {P  :  ^{-»0^  ;  fracture 
conchoidal  or  splintery.  H. -6  ;  G. -2-53  to  2-58.  Transparent 
to  translucent  on  the  edges  ;  vitreous  but  pearly  on  cl. ;  and  also 
opalescent,  with  bluish  or  changing  colours.  Occasionally  colour- 
less bat  generally  red,  yellow,  grey,  or  green.     B,B.  fuses  with 


difBcnlty  to  an  opaque  vesicular  glass.  Kot  affected  by  acidsL  C.  & : 
64-8  silica,  186  alumina,  and  16-9  potash,  but  generally  10  to  14 
potash,  1  to  4  soda,  0  to  1-3  lime,  0  to  2  iron  peroxide.  Varietiea 
are — 

(1)  Adularia  and  lu-spar,  transparent  or  translucent,  splendent, 
and  almost  colourless.  Some  with  bluish  opalescence  are  named 
Moonstone  ;  St  Gotthard,  Mont  Blanc,  DaapKiniS,  Arendal,  Green- 
land, and  Ceylon. 

(2)  Common  Felspar,  generally  white  or  red,  especially  flesh-red, 
is  a  common  constituent  of  many  rocks.  Crystals  at  Baveno  on 
Lago  Maggiore,  Lomnitz  in  Silesia,  Mourne  Mountains  and  Wick- 
low  in  Ireland,  Aberdcnshire  (at  Rubislaw  6  or  8  inches  long)  in 
Scotland,  and  at  Carlsbad  and  Elnbogen  in  Bohemia.  Amason 
Stojie,  verdigris-green,  from  Sutherland,  Lake  Ilmen,  and  Colorado, 
and  MurchisoniU,  golden  or  greyish  yellow,  from  Arran  and  Dawliah, 
are  varieties. 

(3)  The  Glassy  Felspar  or  Eanidine  (C  64°  1',  ooP  119°  16'j  con- 
tains 3  to  12  potash  and  3  to  10  soda.  Crystals  imbedded ; 
vitreous,  translucent,  and  often  mnch  cracked  ;  Arran,  £igg,  and 
other  parte  of  Scotland,  Drachenfels,  Anvergne,  and  other  countries. 

Orthoclase  occurs  in  granite,  gneiss,  and  porphyry  in  many 
countries.  It  is  commonly  associated  with  quartz  ;  sometimes,  as 
in  the  Graphic  Granite  of  Sutherland,  Harris,  and  Portsoy,  in 
letter-like  combinations  of  the  latter.  It  is  very  liable  to  decom- 
position, when  it  is  converted  especially  into  kaolin,  used  for 
manufacturing  porcelain  and  stoneware.  The  adularia  or  moon- 
stone and  the  green  amazon  stone  are  cut  as  ornamental  stones. 
LecliU,  from  Biddean  nam  Bian  in  Argyllshire  and  Grvthyttan  in 
Sweden,  is  a  somewhat  siliceous  homy-lustred  flesh-coloured  com- 
pact variety.  Petunize  and  Eornstons  are  similar  but  more  impure. 
Microchns  is  a  variety  with  angle  distorted  by  interstitial  penijtra- 
tion,  by  oligoclase  (Sutherland),  and  by  albite  (Frederiksvani.  (cc).J 

590.  Albite,  AlSi,  +  SaSi,. 

Anorthic.  OP  (P) :  o>I>«>  (If)  86°  24';  ooP'  (0  :  o>'P  {T)  122°  IB'; 
bat  angles  variable.  Crystals,  generally  like  those  of  orthoclase, 
are  tabular  or  prismatic  (ng.  197).     Hemitropes  common,  especially 


united  by  a  face  of  oo^oo  (figs.  631,  632)  the  re-entering  angle  b^ 


Fig.  631. 


Fig.  58a 


tween  the  faces  of  OP  {P  and  P)  172°  48'  being  very  chsracteristie. 
Fig.  198  is  another  common  hemitrope.  Also  massive,  and  in  radiat- 
ing plates.  Cl.  basal  and  brachydiagonal,  almost  equally  perfect ; 
fracture  conchoidal  or  uneven.  H.  —  6  to  6*5;  G.  —  2"6  to  2'67. 
Rarely  transparent ;  vitreous,  pearly  on   the  cL     Colourless,  but 

fenerally  white,  grey,  ^en,  red.  or  yellow;  streak  white.  B. B. 
ifficultly  fusible, 
tinging  the  flame 
yellow,  to  a  white 
semiopaque  glass. 
Not  affected  by 
acids.  C.c. :  68  6 
silica, 19  '6aluroina 
with  O'l  to  1  iron 
peroxide,  and  11 '8  _ 

soda,  with  0  3  to  4  Fig.  633. 

lime,  0  to  2 '6  potash.  Hence  albite  and  orthoclase  both  contain 
soda  and  potash,  only  in  different  proportions.  Albite  is  most 
easily  recognized  by  its  frequent  re-entering  angles,  its  readier 
fusibility,  and  the  obliquity  (93°  36')  of  its  cl.  planes,  often  marked 
with  striis.  Pericline  is  a  variety  of  which  fig.  633  is  a  typical 
form. 

Albite  is  a  constituent  of  many  "  greenstones,"  as  at  Corstorphine 
(Edinburgh),  and  of  granite,  syenite,  gneiss,  porphyry,  and  trachyte. 
Crystallized  at  Murdoch's  Cairn,  Aberdeenshire,  being  the  colourless 
felspar  of  the  red  granites  of  Scotland.  Dauphine^  St  Gotthard, 
Tyrol,  Salzburg,  and  Arendal. 

Adinole  is  a  compact  variety  similar  in  appearance' to  Lceliic 

691.  Anobthite,  ilSi  +  CaSi . 

Anorthic.  OP  {P)  :  c»f  «o  (Jlf)  85°  60' ;  aP"  (1)  :  oo'P(T)  1»' 
30'.  Hemitropes  common  on  both  it  and  P.  Angle  between  P 
and  f  180°  24'.     CL  basal  and  bltchydiaganal,  perfect     H.-S  ; 


420 


MIJTERALOGY 


0.  — 27  to  278.  Transparent  ortransluoont J  vjtr.cu3.  Colourleeeor 
white.  B.  B.  fuses  to  a  clear  glass  ;  soluble  without  gelatinizing  in 
con.  b.  acid.     O.c. :  4S  silica,  36 '9  alumina,  20  1  lima  sometimes 


Fig.  635. 


Fig.  634. 

with  magnesia  and  soda.  Fetlar  in  Shetland  j  Lendalfoot  in  Ayr- 
shire, in  gabbro;  Monte  Somma,  Iceland,  Java.  Lepolite  and  Am- 
phodtliie  are  varieties.  In  Latrolitc  the  greater  part  of  the  lime  is 
replaced  by  potash.     Glen  Gairn  and  Labrador.     At  both  roso-red. 

592.  OuoociASE,  2AlSi3  +  (j5fa,  6a)jSij. 

Anorthic.  OP  :  oof  <o  86°  10';  mF  :  oo'P  120°  42'.  Hemitropes 
face  m,  ivith  p  :/ 173°  4';  l  -.1 120°  20';  i/:yl79°9';  x^:x  176°  69'. 
CI.  basal,  perfect;  brachydiagonal,  less  so.  H.  =6;  G.  «2'62  to  2 '84. 
Vitreous,  resinous  on  the  cl.  White,  with  a  tinge  of  green,  grey, 
or  red.  B.  B.  melts  easier  than  orthoclase  or  albite  to  a  clear  glass  ; 
not  affected  by  acids.  C.c. :  63  silica,  234  alumina,  8'4  soda,  and 
4-2  lime;  thus  nearly -3  albite  and  1  anorthite.  Distinguished 
from  orthociasa  by  the  n.arked  stris  on  the  faces  ;  less  readily  from 
albite,  but  more  fusible  and  G.  higher.  The  common  associate  of 
orthoclase  in  the  Scotch  grey  granites,  especially  in  vein  granite,  as 
at  Kispond  and  Ben  Loyal  (figs.  536,  5371  ="  "-"—'—'    -'  -' 


Sutherland,  and  at 


Fig.  536. 


Fig.  637. 


Rubialaw  ;  Scandinavia,  Urals,  Harz,  and  North  America.  The 
SunstonCf  from  Foinaven  in  Sutherland,  Norway,  Lake  Baikal,  and 
Ceylon,  with  a  play  of  colour  due  to  imbedded  crystals  of  rubin- 
glimmer  (gbthite),  belongs  to  this  species. 

693.  Labeadoeite,  Al'Si3  +  (Ca,  i{a)Si. 

Anorthic.  OP  :  <xf  «=  86°  40' ;  OP  :  ooT  111° ;  OP  :  »P  113° 
34';  ooP':  oo'P  121°  37'  ;  a>f>»  :  ocP'  120°  63';  cxPor.  :  oo'P  117° 
80'.  Hemitropes  of  three  types  : — (1)  according  to  the  first  law  of 
orthoclase  as  in  fig.  638  ;  that  is,  vertical  revolution  and  face  of 
union  ojfoo  ;  (2)revolutionof  one  half  with  reunion  on  the  face  ooPco, 


Eig.  638. 


Fig.  639. 


Fig.  640. 


as  in  fig.  539  ;  (3)  with  twin  face  P,  as  in  fig.  640.  Hemitropes  of 
the  last  form  also  occur  in  which  the  lower  naif  consists  of  a  hcmi- 
trope  formed  according  to  the  second  method.     Crvatals  imbedded 


in  rocks  consist  generally  of  repeated  twixa  affording  an  angle  o{ 
173°  20'.  Cl.  basal,  perfect;  brachydiaguual,  less  so  ;  both  asnally 
striated  on  account  of  the  above  twinning.  H.— 6;  G.  — 2'38to2  74. 
Translucent;  vitreous,  on  the  cl.  resinous.  Grey,  passing  into  white, 
green,  yellow,  or  red.  The  faces  of  oof  to  often  exhibit  very  beauti- 
ful changing  colours — blue,  green,  yellow,  red,  or  brown — some- 
times bands  intersecting  at  certain  angles.  B.B.  fuses  more  readily 
than  orthoclase  to  a  compact  colourless  glass.  Sol.  in  h.  acid.  C.c  : 
62-9  silica,  30-3  alumina,  123  lime,  and  4'5  soda.  It  is  thus-1 
albite  and  3  anorthite.  Common  constituent  of  dolerite,  gabbro, 
and  hypersthene  rocks.  In  Scotland,  Labrador,  Finland,  Harz, 
Tyrol ;  also  at  Etna  and  Vesuvius. 

594.  Andesine,  AlSi3+(SaCa)Si. 

Anorthic.  Crystals  similar  to  albite  and  anorthite.  Twin  face 
M.  Crystals  generally  formed  of  repeated  plates.  G.-2-67to27. 
Physical  properties  like  albite;  more  easily  fusible  to  a  porous  white 
glass  ;  h.  acid  sometimes  dissolves  out  alternate  laminte  of  crystals. 
C.  c. :  59  7  silica,  25  6  alumina,  7  7  soda,  and  7  lime,  and  thus  nearly 
1  of  albite  and  1  anorthite.  Typical  of  the  primary  limestones 
and  a  granitic  belt  therein  in  Scotland,  as  at  Shinness,  Urquhart, 
Dalnain,  &c.     In  the  Andes,  the  Vosges,  and  Iceland. 

'695.  Hyalophane,  'ilSij,  KS'ia  +  ilSi,  BaSi. 

Oblique  prismatic  ;  resembles  orthoclase  ;  crystals  and  angles 
nearly  the  same.  Cl.  OP,  perfect.  H. -6  to  6-5  ;  G. -2 '8  to  2-9. 
Transparent.  Lustre  vitreous.  Colourless,  white,  and  fiesh-red. 
C.c:  silica  527,  alumina  21,  baryta  15'1,  potash  7'8,  soda  21. 
B.  B.  difficultly  fusible  to  a  blobby  glass,  not  acted  upon  by  acids. 
Binnen  in  Valais,  Jacobsberg  in  Sweden. 

596.  Barsovite,  AlSi-hCaSi. 

Right  prismatic,  or  oblique  prismatic.  H.  =  5'6  to  6  ;  G.  =2 '58. 
Snow-white;  translucent.  Fracture  granular.  Pearly.  C.c. :  silica 
42 '2,  alumina  36-4,  lime  19-8.  Gelatinizes  in  h.  acid,  difficultly 
fusible.     A  dimorphic  form  of  anorthite.     Barsovskoi  in  the  Urals. 

597.  Sadsscrite. 

A  massive,  granular,  translucent,  white  or  pale  green  felspathic 
mineral  of  the  nature  of  anorthite  mixed  with  labradorite.  H.  =  6  to 
7;  G.  =  3'26  to  3"4.  Probably  a  mixture.  Occurs  in  loose  blocks  neat 
Geneva,,  and  in  Corsica.  In  China  and  in  India  is  carved  under  the 
name  of  Oriental  jade  (nephrite).  Seems  to  he  confounded  also 
with  zoizite,  and  perhaps  with  yii  (prehnite).     JadciU  is  similar. 

Zeolite  Geodp. 
These  crystallize  in  all  the  systems  except  the  anorthic,  and  them- 
selves present  great  variety  of  development.  Mostly  hyaline  and 
white  ;  rarely  red,  grey,  or  yellow.  Cl.  generally  distinct.  All 
yield  water  in  closed  tube  ;  all  fusible  B.B.  most  easily,  and  often 
intumescing  ;  all  sol.  in  acids,  and  mostly  gelatinize  or  deposit 
silica.  They  are  hydrated  S'licates  of  alkalies,  or  alkaline  earths, 
mostly  with  silicates  of  alumina,  but  rarely  contain  magnesia. 
Some  minetalogists  regard  the  water  as  basic,  in  union  with  silica, 
and  Kenngott  gives  the  formula  in  that  form,  thus  ; — 

Analcime,  (ifaAl)  2Si-H2(fi,  Si), 

Natrolite,  (SaAl)  2Si-f2(fi,  Si), 

Stilbite,  C^a,  ■Al+6{li,  Si), 
and  the  othei-s  similar.  They  are  generally  found  in  amygdaloidal 
cavities  or  fissures  of  trap  or  jilutonic  rocks,  apparently  as  deposits 
from  water  percolating  into  inem,  and  are  thus  probably  products 
of  decomposing  nepheline  or  felspars,  or  hydrated  felspars  them- 
selves. They  never  form  constituents  of  rocks.  Natrolite, 
scolezite,  thomsonite,  and  the  connected  varieties  are  marked  by 
their  needle-like  radiating  forms  ;  stilbite  and  heulandite  by  their 
broad,  foliated,  pearly  cleavage, 

698.   Pectolite,  4(iaSi  +  ?<aSi2-l-H. 

Oblique  prismatic,  C  84°  37'.      ooPoo  (c) ;  OP  («)  95'  23'.     Cl.  c 
and  u.    Twin-face  c  ;  chiefly  spher- 
oidal and  radiating  fibrous.  H.  — 5; 
G. -274    to    2-88.      Translucent; 
crystals  pearly  ;    fibres  silky.     Pale 
green  to  yellowish  white.    Sol.  in 
h.  acid,  leaving  silica.     C.c:  54*2 
silica,    33  7    lime,    9  4    soda,    and 
27  water.     Katho,  Corstorphine,  Castle  Rock, 
Edinburgh;  Kilsyth,  Stirling  ;  Knockdolit 
shire;  Skyo ;  Montebaldo  ;  Monzooi  Valley  in  Tyrol. 

569.  Walkertte,  4C'aSi  +  Xlg§i  +  Sa§i,  +  2H. 

Like  pectolite, but  columnar.  H.  — 4'5  ;  G.  =  27.  Flesh-coloure-l. 
Lustre  pearly  to  greasy.  C  c. :  silica  537,  lime  28*6,  magnesia 
6  1,  soda  7  9,  water  4 '6.    Corstorphine  Hill,  Bumtislandi ''' 

600.  Xosotlite,  4Ca§i-fS. 

Uossivc.    H. -6;  0.-2-6  to  27.    Pink,  white,  and  grey.    Tough; 


Fig.  541 

nd  Arthur's  Seat, 
nd  Lendalfoot,  Ayr- 


MIKEEALOGY 


421 


fiitare  conclioidal  and  splinferv.  C.c:  silica.  49  S,  liiue  43  5, 
cr^toiide  of  mangmese  2'3,  protoxide,  of  iron  2 '9,  water  8  7. 
JCiiinichec  and  Torosaj  (UiiU).  Xonotla  (Mexico), 

601.  ToBEBMOBrri,  3(0a^.  ft)Sij  +  2>.S. 

Massive,  fine  granular;  translucent;  fracture  hacklr.  H.  — F; 
G -2-4.  Pale  pink.  C.c. 'silica  4p-8,  lime  87-2,  water  12  9. 
Tobermory  (Hull},  Dnnvegan  (Skye) 

602.  OKzyiTE,  CafiSi,  +  S. 

Right  prismatic.  ocP  122'  19'.  Usually  fine  fibrous;  radiatine. 
H. -6;  G. -2-28  to  2  36  Pellucid;  slightly  pearly.  Yellowisli 
to  bluish  white.  In  powder  easily  sol  in  h.  acid>  leaving 
gelatinous  fiakes  after  ignition.  C.c.  :  66  8  silica,  28  4  lime,  and 
17  water ;  an  apopbyllite  without  the  fluorine.  Disco  Island, 
Faroes,  and  Iceland. 

603.  ApopHTLLrTE,  8(6aSi  +  2S)  +  KF . 

PyiamidaL  P  120°  56'.  P,  ooPoo  (m),  OP  (t>),  ocP2  (r). 
Rarely  lamellar.  CI.  o,  perfect  Brittle.  H.  —  4'6  to  6; 
G.  —  2'3to  3-4.  Transparent;  vitreous.  On  o  pearly  (/cA/^yo/:^- 
thalmiU).  Colourless,  rarely  pink,  green,  red,  brown,  and  yellow. 
B.B.  exfoliates,  intumesces,  and  melts  to  white  enameL  SoL  in 
b.  acid,  leaving  silica.     C.c:  silica  50 '3.  lime  247,  water  15 'P, 


Fig.  642. 


Fig.  643. 


Fig.  644. 


potassium  4'3,  fluorine  2'1.  Dunvegan  and  Storr,  Skye  (fig.  644); 
Chapel,  Fife  ;  Corstorphine  (fig.  542)  and  Ratbo,  near  Edinburgh  ; 
Kilsyth,  Bowling,  Kilpatrick  ;  Port  Rush,  Ireland.  In  the  form 
P  (fig.  79),  grass-green  at  Oxhaveer,  Iceland  {Oxhaveerile)  ;  Utb, 
Sweden ;  Audreasberg  and  Faroes  (pink) ;  Faroes,  and  Poonah  in 
India  (green).  Internal  structcre  tesselated,  being  built  up  of  wedge 
?.nd  lenticular  forms  with  varying  refractive  indices,  hence  exhibit- 
irig  a  beautiful  structure  with  poiarized  light. 

604.  Gteolite,  (jCa  +  jS)Si-f-H. 

Lamellar,  radiate,  spherical,  and  investing.  H.  =-  3  to  4.  Pearly. 
Bluish  white  to  cream-coloured.  Transparent,  rapidly  becoming 
cpaque.  C.c:  silica  533,  lime  329,  water  13'8.  Quiraing, 
Ljadale,  and  Storr,  Skye;  Loch  Screden  and  Carsaig,  Mull ;  Canna; 
Karartut,  Niakomak,  and  Disco  ;  Faroes ;  Nova  Scotia. 

605.  Analcime,  ilSi,  +  5^aSi  +  2fi . 

Cubic.  ooO<«;;202.  Fracture  uneven.  H.-5'5  ;  G. -2'1  to  2-28. 
Colourless,  white,  flesh-red,  scar- 
let. Vitreous;  transparent.  B.B. 
melts  without  frothing  to  a  clear 
vesicular  glass.  Decomposable 
with  gelatinization  in  h.  acid. 
C.c.  :  64-5  silica,  23-3  alumina, 
141  soda,  82  water.  Walls, 
Orkney;  Talisker,  Skye;  Sanda, 
and  Hebrides  generally.  Trans- 
parent at  Eigg,  and  Elie,  Fife 
scarlet  at  Bowdens,  Kincai*dine ; 
opaque  white  at  Glen  Farg, 
Salisbury  Crags,  and  Dumbarton; 
Giant's  Causeway,  Seisser  Alp  in  Fig.  545. 

Tyrol,   Cyclopean  Islands  (fig.   545),  Faroes.  Iceland,  and  Nova 
Scotia.     EudnophiU  is  a  variety.     Fecto- 
lite  (sp.  698)  occurs  pseudomorpbous  after 
analcirae,    in  large   crystals   of  a,   «,  at 
JRatho,  Edinburghshire. 

006.  PoLLtTX,  8("AlSi,  +  (6s},  Sa})Si)-f 

Cubic     ooOoo;  202  (fig.    646).      Also 
massive.     Gum. like  externally.     Brittle, 
^th  traces  of  cleavage.      Fracture  con- 
choidal.     H. -5o   to  6-6;   G.  -  286  to 
29.     Colourless.     Vitreous.     Sol.  in  n.        i.      ,.. ,      .„, 
acid.     C.c. :  silica  44,  alumina  16,  oxide       ''^-  °^®  ^'P'  ***'' 
of  cRsium  34,  soda  2'5,  water  2*1.    Elba.  ^The  only  mineral  which 
contains  c«sium  in  (juaatity. 


607.  FAFjABrre,  i&^i\t+{.ta^)^i,^XZli. 

Cubic  :  in  octahedrons  with  the  icositetrahedron  ^Of  Fracture 
uneven;  brittle  H. -7  ;  G. -1-92.  Transparent;  vitreous  to 
adamantine  White  to  brown.  Sol.  in  h.  acid.  C.c:  46-8  sUica, 
16  alumina.  4  4  lime,  4  8  soda,  28  water.  Kaiserstnhl  in  Baden, 
Annerod  near  Giessen,  Eisenach,  Marburg. 

608.  Chab.\site  {Lime-Clwbasite),  ftlSij  -I-  CaSi  -I-  6H . 
Rhombohedral :  K  94°  46.'    KR4  ;-lR  (r)  ;-2R  (e) ; 

Twin."  very  common  (generally  interaesting). 


Fig.  647.  Fig.  548. 

Poo .  Primary  rhombohedron  is  sometimes  twinned  with  a  crystal 
with  faces  r,  «,  j.  CI  r  perfect  H. -4  to  4-5;  G. -2  to  2  2. 
Transparent  or  translucent;  vitreous.     Colourless,  and  brownishl 


Fig.  649.  Fig.  650. 

yellowish,  brick-,  and  flesh-red.  SoL  in  h,  acid,  leaving  silica. 
C.c:  silica  47-8,  alumina  20'8,  lime  107,  water  21  3.  Lyndale 
(figs.  647,  648.    649),  Talisker  (figs.   176,  660,   sometimes  flesh 


Fig.  551.  Fi^.  552. 

colour),  and  Storr,  Skye  (figs.  647,  548);  Port  Glasgow  and  Kil- 
malcolm (pink  and  brown) ;  Giant's  Causeway  and  Magee  Island 
(red),  Faroes,  Iceland, 
Aussig,  Audreasberg 
(fig.  551).  Baydtnite  in 
twinned  rhonibohedra, 
with  p:p  95°  to  97°  and 
2>  :  d  170°  reentering  (fig. 
552),  from  Fassa  and 
Maryland,  is  similar. 
FkacoliU  is  chabasite  in 
twins  of  JP2,  o=P2,  R, 
-iR  at  the  Giant's 
Causeway  (fig.  154).  At 
Richmond    in     Victoria  _.     ,,„ 

thpv     rw-riir     Bs      in      fitr  ''6'  ^''"* 

653,  -  2R  (n),  -  JR  (r),'}P2  (i),  OP  (e) ;  polar  edge,'}P2  146'.  .  In 
this,  half  of  the  lune  is  replaced  by  soda. 

609.  GuKLKJITE(5oda-CTa6ari(<),  AiSi,-f}>aSi-(-6S. 

Hexagonal    R  112°  26' ;  P  78°  64'.     Combination  P,  ■OP'.'^P, 


422 


MINERALOGY 


(figa  554,  556).    Faces  of  P  striated  paiiJlel  to  the  polar  edse,  those 
of  the  prism  horkontally  {fig.  655).     CL  ooP  distinct.    Gelalinizes 


Fig.  557. 


Fig.  558  (sp.  611). 


86.     Aci- 


Fig.  656. 

with  h.  acid.     C.c. :  47'6  silica, 
197  alumina,  12  soda,  207  water. 
'-'  Certain  crystals  seem  to  indicate 

twinning-.      Talisfcer  in  Skye  (twins  of   iig.  665),   Glenaim  in 
Antrim  (Cg.  655),  Vicenza,  Pyrgo 
in  Cyprus,  Cape  Biomidon  in  Nova 
Scotia. 

610.  IiETTNE,     iilSij  +  CaSi  + 

as. 

Khombohedral ;  P,  (s)  79°  29' ; 
-JR  (r)  106=3';  OR  (o).  Forms 
intersecting  twins  as  in  fig.  557. 
H.  =  4;  G.-2-1  to  2-2.  Colourless 
and  white.  Co.:  silica  4S'8,  alumina  23"8,  lime  97,  water  21. 
Storr  in   Skye    (o,  s),    Ireland  (at  , 

Glenarm,  Island  Magee,  London- 
derry, &c.),  Iceland,  Dalsnypen, 
and  Naalsii  in  the  Faroes. 

611.  Hekschelite,      'itlSia  + 
(6aNa)Si  +  6H. 

Hesagonol  prisms  (e)  snnnounted 
by  two  trihedral  pyramids  of  a,  and 
one  of  ffiV(fig-  558).  a,  :  e  122°  8' ; 
a"  :  c  107°  26';  e  striated  hori- 
zontally. CI.  e ;  fracture  con- 
choidal ;  transparent ;  vitreous. 
White  or  colourless,  H.=5-5; 
G.  =  2-06.  C.c:  silica  47,  alu- 
mina 21"2,  lime  5'2,  soda  4'8,  potash  2,  water  17' 
Castello  and  Palagonia  in  Sicily,  Yarra  in  Australia. 

612.  Laumontite  (^Leonhardile),  iiciS'i3-HCaSi-K4H. 

Obliiiue  prismatic,  C  80°  42'.  ooP  (m)  86°  16'.  ooP:-  ooP  («) 
113°30';Poo  (x,):-  ooP  111°  14' ;  e  :  «125°41'; 
o:S  90°  ;  e  :  z  149°  15'.  Twin  face  a.  CI.  m, 
perfect;  very  brittle.  H.  =  3  to  3-5;  G.  =  2-2 
to  2'3.  Pellucid  when  fresh  ;  vitreous  ;  pearly 
on  cl.  White,  cream-coloured,  brick-red.  De- 
composes rapidly  through  loss  of  water.  B.B. 
intumcsces,  and  melts  first  to  a  white  enamel, 
ultimately  to  a  clear  glass.  Gelatinizes  in  h. 
acid.  C.c:  silica  60'9,  alumina  21 '8,  lime 
11 '9,  water  16  S.  Rapidly  loses  1  equivalent 
or  3 '86  per  cent,  of  water,  and  becomes  fri- 
able (Eypostilhite).  Kilfiniohen,  Mull  (fig. 
559)  ;    Storr    and    Quiraing,    Skye    (hypostil-  \      k.  -s  k 

bite);   Tod    Head,  Snizort,   Glcu    Farg  (red);    \^  I'V;^ 
Bowling,  Dumbarton   (twins  of  m,   e) ;  Hnel-       ^ — ^^^ 
goat    in    Brittany  ;    Prague,    Falun,    Iceland,  ^'E-  ^•"• 

Faroes,   Nova  Scotia.     Caporcianite  from  Tuscany    has    only    3 
water. 

613.  Epistileite       {Reiasite), 
JUSij-hCaSij-hSfi. 

Oblique    prismatic,  C   64°  63'. 
ooP  (m)    135°  10';    Pco    («)  109° 
46';  iP(s)147°40'(Cg.560).  Hemi- 
tropes  united  by  m,  with  twins  of 
the  same  united    by  the  brachy- 
diagonal  (a).    CL  brachydingonal, 
perioct.    II. -3-5  to  4;  G. -2-3  to 
2 '4.     Pellucid;   vitreous;  pearly 
on  cl.     Colourless.     Sol.  without 
gelatinizing,   C.c. ;  silica  59, alum- 
ina 17 '5,  Ume  9,  soda  1'5,  water  ^,     rfn 
14-5.     Talisker  in  Skye  (m,  «,  o);  rig.  uou. 
Hartlepool  (in  twins),  Iceland,  Faroes,  Silesia,  Tiesch  in  Vabis, 
^ova  Scotia,  and  New  Jersey. 


614.  Heulandite,  AlSi3  +  (5aSi3-!-533E. 

Oblique  prismatic,  C  63°  40'.    P'oo  (?)  SO"  20' ;  2P  (z)  ;  |P  («) ; 

2P«oo  (r) ;  3PCCO  (s) ;  aV<o  ;  ooF;  OP.  2  :  s  136°  i';u:u  146°  52'.. 
Crystals  elongated  along 
each  of  the  axes  pre- 
sent very  varj-ing  forms, 
but  generally  tabular 
Cl.  clinodiagonal,  per- 
fect ;  pearly  on  this, 
vitreous  on  others ; 
brittle.  H.  =3-5  to  4; 
G.  =2-lto2-2.  Trans- 
parent to  translucent ; 
colourless,  while,  brick- 
red,  rose,  green,  hair- 
brown.  B.B,  melts  with 
exfoliation  and  intu- 
mescence to  a  white 
enamel,  Sol,  in  h. 
acid,  leaving  silica. 
Storr  and  Taliskcr, 
Skye  (fig.  562) ;  Sanda; 
Kilmalcolm;  Catterline, 
Kincardine  (fig.  563) ; 
Kilpatrick  HiUs  (p,  m, 
n,  z,  u,  r,  s)  and  Kintyre 
(red) ;    Iceland,   Faroes, 


Fig.  565. 


Fig.  564. 
Fassai  Valley,   Nova   Scotia,    Baltimore   {BeaumonliU)   (fig.  665) 
(T?,  m,  n,  s,  t) ;  Vindhya  Mountains  in  India  (fig.  564), 

615.  Brewstekite,  'AJSi3-i-RSi3+5S,     K=(fSr-h0a-f-}<5a). 

Oblique  prismatic,  C  86°  56'.  ooP°oo  (a)  ;  «?=«;  (I) ;  "tlP  (o) ; 
kP'oo  (e);  ooP  (m);  coP»2  (c);  ooP'f  (<).  e:e 
173°  10'  (fig.  566).  Cl.  clinodiagonal,  perfect ; 
pearly  on  do,,  vitreous  on  others;  pellucid. 
H,  =6  to  5-5;  G.  =2-5  to  2-46.  Colourless, 
yellow,  or  brown.  Sol.  with  gelatiuization  in  h. 
acid.  C.c:  54*3  sUica,  15  alumina,  9  strontia, 
6 '6  baryta,  1'3  lime,  13 '5  water.  Strontian, 
Freiburg  in  the  Breisgau,  Pyrenees. 

610.  Phillipsite,  A!Si3  +  (Ca,  K)Si-)-5H, 

Oblique  prismatic,  C  55°  1',  ojP  (m) ; 
ooP'^oo  (i) ;  OP  (c).  Polar  edges  120°  42'  and 
119°  IS',  Faces  b  and  7/1  striated  parallel  to 
the  intersections.  Apparently  always  twinned ; 
generally  these  duplicated  by  intersection  on 
lace  b  or  face  c  (figs.  507,  668),  and  frequently  "S-  666  (sp.  615). 
arranged  so  that  three  of  the  above  double  tivins  intersect  at 
right   angles    to    one   another,   forming  the  cruciform  fig.  569. 


Fig.  669.  Fig.  670. 

When  the  prismatic  faces  of  these  are  short,  the  faces  m  of  the 


MINERALOGY 


423 


iot«tsacting  individoals  fall  nearly  into  one  plane,  presenting  the 
form  fig.  670  ;  when  long,  fig.  190.  Brittle  ;  fracture  uneven. 
H. -.4-5;  G. -215  to  2-2.  Gelatinizes  in  h.  acid.  C.c:  Bilici48-6, 
alumina  20-2,  lime  7'3,  potash  6-2,  water  177.  Giant's  Causeway, 
Giessen,  Marburg,  Cosset,  Capo  di  Bove,  VesuWus,  Iceland. 

617.  Habmotome,  AJSij  +  BaSij+Sfi. 

Oblique  prismatic,  C  55°  10'.  ooP  (j) ;  ooP  oo  (b) ;  OP  (a). 
Forms  like  phillipsite,  but  more  frequently  in  simple  twins. 
Physical  properties  like  phillipsite,  but  G.  —  2  3  to  25,  and  fuses 


Fig.  573.  Fig.  574. 

with  difficulty.  Difficultly  sol.  in  h.  acid.  C.c. :  46  5  silica,  15-9 
alumina,  23 '7  baryta,  and  13 '9  water.  Strontian,  transparent 
(Morvmile,  fig.  572)  and  opaqUB  (figs.  671,  573);  Glen  ArbucK  (fig. 
674)  and  Bowling  in  Bumliarton  ;  Corstorphine  near  Edinburgh  ; 
Audreasberg,  Kongsbcrg,  Obci-stein. 

«18.   Stilbite,  AlSij  +  CaSij  +  eS. 

Oblique  prismatic,  but  with  right  prismatic  habit;  C  B0°  49'- 
00^00  (a) ;  ooPoD  (i)  ;  P  (r) ;  c»P2  (m)  ;  OP  (p).  CI.  a,  perfect. 
H.  =  3  -5  to  4  ;  G.  -  2-1  to  2  2.  Transparent ;  vitre- 
ous. Pearly  on  a.  Colourless,  white,  yellow,  pale 
brown,  biick-red.  Decomposed  by  h.  acid,  leaving 
silica.  C.e.  :  silica  57o,  alumina  16'4,  lime  89 
water  17-2.  Storr  and  Talisker  in  Skye  (a,  t,  pi 
(Eg.  576),  and  in  Hebrides  (colourless) ;  Arrau  and 
KUmalcolm  (pale  brown) ;  Long  Craig  (Dumbarton) 
and  Kinneff  (Kincardine)  (brick-red) ;  Iceland, 
Faroes,  Andreasberg.Vindbyailountains,  Wellington 
Uountains  (Austr.'Jia),  Nova  Scotia. 

619.  PiTFFLEr.iTE,  Ais\  +  Ca./ij  +  sS. 
Fibrous  globular  concretions,  with  vitreous  surface. 

H.-.4;  G. -2-21.  Greyish  white.  Transparent. 
C.C.:  silica  52-8,  alumina  16-3,  lime  11%  water 
17-2.     Pufflatsch  iu  the  Scisser  Alp. 

620.  Edikoto.vite,  4AlSi;-H3riaSi  +  12a. 

Pyriftnidal ;  hcmihcdral  with  inclined  faces.  P  87°  19' :  JP  (re) 
129*  8'  ;    ooP  (a)  ;  polar    edges  _._ 

P  92°  51'  (fig.  57G).  CI.  a,  j 
feet  ;  fracture  'inevcn.  H. 
to  4-5;  G. -2-7  to  271.  Trans 
lucent ;  vitreous.  Colourless. 
C.c:  silica  37-3,  alumina  2375, 
baryta  26  -52,  water  12  46.  Kil 
Patrick  Hills  in  Dumbarton 
shire. 

621.  FoRESiTE,  i&aii, 

•■K^Ci,1Sh  +  6&  Fig.  576* (sp.  620). 

Kight  prismatic.  ooPoo  ;  ooPoo  ;  OP.  CI.  brachydiagonal, 
perfect ;  lustre  thereon  pearly.  G.  =.2'4.  White.  C.c:  silica 
60,  alumina  27  4,  lime  5j,  soda  1-4,  water  16  1.  San  Piero 
*iElba. 

622.  NATROinx,  AlSi,  +  SaSi-f2fi. 

Sight  prismatic.  ooP  (m)  91° ;  P  (o)  j  polar  edges  148°  20'  and 
.144°  40',  middle  edge  68°  20'  j  oof «  (i) ;   ocP«  (o).     Radiating 


aoicular  crs'Stals,  often  fibrous.  CL  ojP,  perfect  H. -5to  6-5  ; 
"j.  =217  to  226.  Pellucid:  vitreous.  Colourless,  ochre-yellow, 
reddish.  Is  not  pyroelectric.  B.B.  melts  quietly  to  a  clear  glass, 
colouring  flame  yellow.     SoL    in  oxalic  acid.     "  "       '"'"  "''"" 


Fig.  577.  Fig.  578. 

27  alumina,  16-3  soda,  9-4  water.  Glen  Farg  (fig.  577),  (colourless 
and  reddish),  Tantallon  Castle  (fig.  678),  Dumbarton,  Bowling 
(greetf),  Campsie,  Bishopton,  Glenarm  and  Port  Rush  (Ireland), 
Auvergne,  Hesse,  Hohentwiel  in  Swabia,  Norway.  CrocalUc  is  red, 
fibrous,  and  investing ;  Kintyre,  Forfarshire,  Wemyss  Bay.  and  the 
Urals. 

623.  SCOLECITE,  AlSij  -1-  CaSi  -I-  3H  . 

Oblique  prismatic,  C  89°  6'.  osP  (m)  91°  35' ;  P  (o)  144° 
20  ;  -  P.  Prismatic  and  acicular  crystals.  'Twins  common,  on  face 
00 P'oo,  one  face  with  feathered  strias.  CL  ooP,  perfect.  H.  —  5to 
6-6;  G.  =2-2  to  23.  Pellucid  ;  vitreous  ;  pyro-electric  Wliite 
to  reddish  white.  B.B.  twists  in  a  vermicular  manner;  melting 
readily  to  a  porous  glass.  Only  par- 
tially soL  in  oxalic  acid.  C.c. :  silica 
45-8,  alumina  26-2,  lime  14-3,  water 
137.  Staffa;  Loch  Screden,  MuU  ; 
Talisker,  Skye  ;  Berufiord,  Iceland 
(fig.  679);  Faroes;  Vindhyas,  India. 
Natrolite  and  scolecite  pass  into  one 
another.  There  are  two  definite  in- 
termediates— Fargite,  consisting  of 
two  equivalents  of  natrolite  and  one 
of  scolecite,  and  Mesolite,  consisting 
of  one  of  the  former  and  two  of  the 
latter.  The  first  of  these  occurs 
at  Glen  Farg  and  at  Bishopton 
{GalactiU) ;  the  second  is  the  ordi- 
nary radiated  zeolite  of  the  amygda-  Fig.  579. 
loids  of  the  Tertiary  igneous  rocks  of  the  Hebrides  and  the  Farces. 
It  there  occurs  in  matted  crystals  of  extreme  tenuity  {Cotton- 
sto:ie),  also  in  delicate  feathery  tufts  ;  in  Renfrewshire  in  spheres 
with  an  internally  radiated  stmcturo,  and  also  in  needle  form  and 
in  downy  tufts. 

624.  GisMONDiNE,  AlSi-hCaSi-f-4fi. 

Pyramidal.  P  (6)  92°  30' :  polar  angle  118°  34' ;  ooPa 
580).  CI.  P.  H. -5,  on  edge/ 
and  angles  5  to  6;  G. -2  26. 
Translucent ;  vitreous.  Bluish 
white  to  pale  red,  C.c:  silica 
36-9,  alumina  273,  lime  131, 
potash  2 '3,  water  21  1.  Island 
Mageoaiid  Larue,  Ireland;  Vesu- 
vius, Aci-Cadtello,  and  Capo  di 
Bove ;  SchiHenberg  near  Giessen ; 
Schlauroth  near  Gorlitz. 

625.  Zeaooniie,  AlSi  +  (CaSJ 
Si  +  4SE. 

Right  prismatic.  P  polar  angle  120°  37'  and  121°  44' ;  middle 
angle  89°  13'.  Crystals  like  fig.  il9.  H.  —6,  on  edges  and  angles 
7;  G.  =2-3.  Transparent ;  vitreous.  Colourless,  ^ 
white,  or  bluish.     C.c:  silica  44,  alumina  23*3,  "'"  '  "    ^'^ 

lime  5'3,  potash  11"1,  water  i5"3.    CapodiBove 

626.  Thomsoxite,  2AlSi-H2(CaNa)Si  +  5fi. 
Right  prismatic     o>P  (m)  90°  26' ;   osPoo  (a); 

cx.f=o  (6) ;  ipoo  (!,);  Pco  (r)  ;  ^Poo  (x).  X  :  X 
177°  34'  20".  CI.  macrodiagonal  and  brachy- 
diagonal, both  perfect.  H.  -5  to  55  ;  0.-235 
to  2 '38.  Translucent;  vitreous;  pearly  on  mac- 
rodia^onaL  Colourless.  B.B.  difficultly  fusible 
with  intumescence  to  a  white  enamel.  Sol.  with  j'j-^  ggj  /gp_  q2Q). 
gelatinization  in  h.  acid.  C.c  :  silica  387, 
alumina  30-8,  lime  13-4,  soda  4-4,  water  13-1.  Lochwinnoch, 
Renfrew  ;  Eilpatrick  (fig.  68"^  •  Quiraing  and  Talisker  {sometimes 


Fig.  680. 


424 


MINERALOGY 


massive-granulsr) ;  Rathlin  ani  Ma^^ee   Island,    Ireland; 
Vesuvius  (fig,  581),  Sicily,  Bohemia,  Tyrol, 
Nova  Scotia. 

FaroeliU  is  a  variety  with  42*5  of  silica. 
It  replaces  thomsonite  generally  in  Tertiary 
igneous  rocks,  occurring  at  Storr  and  else- 
where in  the  Hebrides,  Faroes,  Iceland, 
and  Nova  Scotia.  The  angle  of  the  vertical 
prism  is  within  8'  of  that  of  thomsonite.  It 
contain?  an  equiv<aleut  more  silica. 

627.   Prehnite,  AiSi  +  2CaSi  +  fl . 

Right  prismatic.     ooP  (?n)  99°  68' ;  OP 
(c);  3poo  (e)33°26';  JPoo  (v)90°32';  ooPoo         Fig.  682  (sp.  62 
(a);  oopco  (i);  P  (s).    Crystals  either  tabular  of  c,  or  prismatic 
both  the  vertical  and  the  brkchydiagonal  axes,  hence  varying 
in  form.     Also  in  fan-shaped  and  botryoidi^  aggregations, 
perfect;  pearly  thereon,  vitreous  else- 
where.    H.-6  to   7;   G.  =2-8   to   3. 
Transparent  to  translucent.     Colour- 


along 
much 
CI.  c. 


Fig.  683. 


Fig.  664. 


less,  but  generally  green  of  bright  but  pale  tints,  also  lemon-yellow. 
Becomes  electrically  polar  by  heat.  B.B.  intumesces  greatly, 
melting  to  a  porous  enamel.  Decomposed  by  h.  acid.  C.c. : 
silica  43 '6,  alumina  24  9,  lime  27'1,  water  4 '4.  Glen  Gairn,  Aber- 
deen (fig.  683)  ;  Skye  and  Mull  ;  Corstorphine  Hill  (green  and 
pink).  Castle  Rock  (white),  and  Salisbury  Crags  (yellow),  Edin- 
burgh; Frisky  Hall,  Dumbartonshire  (fig.  '^84);  Hartfield  Moss, 
Renfrew  (botryoidal);  Cornwall;  Dauphine ;  Tyrol:  Cape  of  Good 
Hope;  China  (Til). 

628.  Friedelite,  MniSi3  +  2H. 

Rhombohedral ;  R  123°  42'.  OR  ;  ooR.  Tabular  habit,  and  in 
granular  aggregates.  CI.  basal, perfect.  H.  =  4  to  6;  G. —31.  Rose- 
red,  with  paler  streak.  C.c. :  silica  36,  proto.xide  of  manganese  63, 
lime  2'96,  water  7'9.    Adervielle  on  the  Neste  de  Louron  (Pyrenees). 

HrDKOUs  Silicates  of  Alumina. 
These  are  probably  for  the  most  part  products  of  decomposition 
of  felspars  under  atmospheric  exposure. 

629.  Kaolin  {Porcelain  Earth), 'A1&L  + 2S. 

Massive  ;  in  beds  and  veins.  Fracture  uneven  ;  fine  earthy,  very 
soft,  seotile,  and  friable.  H.  =  1 ;  G.  -  2-2.  Onaque,  dull.  White  or 
grey,  inclining  to  blue,  green,  yellow,  or  red.  Feels  meagre,  not 
greasy  when  dry,  and  plastic  when  wet.  B.B.  infusible.  Not 
affected  by  h.  acid,  but  decomposed  by  warm  s.  acid,  leaving  silici. 
C.c.  very  variable,  but  approximates  to  46  silica,  40  alumina,  and 
14  water.  Chiefly  a  product  of  the  decomposition  of  orthoclase,  or 
of  granite,  porphyry,  and  other  rocks  containing  that  mineral. 
Cornwall  and  Devonshire  in  England  are  the  chief  European  locali- 
ties for  the  kaolin  used  in  manufacturing  porcelain. 

Clays  are  merely  varieties  of  kaolin,  mixed  with  quartz-sand,  car- 
bonate of  lime,  magnesia,  and  the  oxyhydrates  of  iron.  Often  40 
to  50  silica,  30  alumina,  13  to  20  water,  and  4  iron  peroxide, 
with  lime  and  potash.  In  the  fire  they  are  infusible,  burning 
hard.  Generally  tliey  are  compact  and  friable,  of  white,  yellow, 
red,  blue,  grey,  or  brown  colours.  Their  specific  gravity  varies 
from  1"8  to  2'7.  The  following  are  varieties.  Pipe-chn/,  greyish 
or  yellowi'^h  white,  with  a  greasy  feel,  adheres  strongly  to  the 
tongue,  when  wet  is  very  plastic  and  tenacious,  and  in  the  fire 
burns  white.  Al^nndant  in  DevonsliiiT,  and  in  the  Trough  of 
Poole  in  Doi-aetshire;  in  France,  Belgium,  and  Gei-many.  Used 
for  manufacturing  tob.acco-pii»e3  and  sinlilar  articles.  Poller  s 
Clatj,  red,  yellow,  green,  or  blue,  becoming  yellow  or  red  when 
burnt  ;  more  easily  fused  than  the  former,  and  often  effervesces 
with  acids.  That  used  in  the  potteries  in  England  comes  chiefly 
from  Devonshire.  Loam,  coarser  end  more  impure,  with  more 
sand,  and  consequently  less  plastic.  Sfmlc  or  sLiU  Clay,  greyish 
black,  and  much  mixed  with  bituminous  or  carbonaceous 
matter.  Bituminous  SJuili,  known  by  its  shining  resinous  streak. 
Black  Clialk,  with  more  carbon,  leaves  a  black  mark  on  paper.    Iron 


Clay  contains  much  peroxide  of  iron,  is  reddish-bro^n,  and  forms 
the  basis  of  many  amygdaloids  and  porphyries. 

630.  Nacrite,  itlSij-f2fi. 

Right  prismatic;  minute  six-sided  tables  in  fan-like  group  ;  and 
scaly.  H.  -  0  -6  to  1 ;  G.  -  2  35  to  2  -6.  GUmmeriog  to  pearly,  snow. 
whit«  or  yellowish  white.  C.c:  silica  46'3,  alumina  39  8,  water 
13 '9.  A  crystalline  form  of  kaolin.  Fins  in  Allier,  Mons,  Freiberg, 
Pennsylvania,  and  coal  formation  commonly. 

631.  LiTHOMARQE. 

Kaolinic  substances,  compact,  earthy,  and  psendomorphoua. 
H.-2-6to3;  G.-2-4to2-6.  White,  yellow,  or  red.  Greasy,  adheres 
to  tongue.  Klausthal,  Harz,  &c.  Similar  are  Caniat,  Myelin, 
Mclopsite. 

632.  Hallotsite,  !4'lSi-t-4S. 

Massive  and  reniform.  H. -1-6  to  2-5;  G. -1-9  to  2-1.  'Trans- 
lucent when  moist.  Bluish  white,"green,  or  yellow.  C.c. ;  41  "6  silica, 
34 "4  alumina,  24*1  water.  Hospital  Quarry  near  Elgin,  on  the 
Tweed,  Liege,  Tarnowitz,  Eifel  {tenziniu).  Fuller's  Earth  may  be 
an  impure  ferruginous  variety.  Maxton  in  Scotland,  Reigate  and 
Maidstone  in  England,  Saxony,  Bohemia,  &c. 

633.  Glagerite,  AljSij-f  6H. 

H.  —  1;  G.  —  2'35.  Bergnersreutn.  Mallhazile,  from  Steiniotte] 
near  Bautzen,  has  less  alumina. 

634.  Kolltrite, 'iljSi-ngfi. 

H.  —  1  to  2;  G.  —  2.  Also  similar.  Schemnitz,  Pyrenees,  and 
Saxony.     Scarbroite  from  Scarborough  has  lOHjO. 

635.  MiLoscHiN. 

Conchoidal  or  earthy.  H.=2;G.=2'1.  Indigo-blue  to  celadon- 
green  ;  has  2  to  4  chrome  o.xlde.     Rndnik  in  Servia. 

636.  MONTMORILLONITE,   AljSij-f  2H. 

Massive.  Rose-red.  Montmorillon  and  elsewhere  in  Fi-ance, 
Poduruoj  in  Transylvania. 

637.  RAzocmoffskin,  AlSij-l-SS. 

From  Carinthia.  Chrome  Ochre,  with  2  to  10  per  cent,  of  chrome 
oxide,  from  Waldenburgin  Silesia  and  Creusot  in  France,  is  similar. 

638.  CiMOLiTE,  AljSij-f  efi. 

Pseudomorphous  after  augite.  Ellin.  Limburg,  Kaiserstuhl, 
Argeutiera  and  Milo. 

639.  Allophane, 'AJSi-f5H. 

Botryoidal  and  reniform.  Fracture  conchoidal ;  brittle.  H.  =  3  ; 
G.  —  1  8  to  2.  Pellucid ;  vitreous.  Pale  blue,  white,  green,  or 
brown.  Colour  due  to  copper.  Charlton,  Woolwich,  Baden,  and 
Bonn. 

640.  Ptrophtllite,  A'lSij-fS. 

Right  prismatic,  but  radiated,  foliated.  CI.  perfect ;  flexible, 
sectile.  H.^l;  G.=2'8to2"9.  Translucent,  pearly.  Lightverdi- 
gris-green  to  yellowish  white.  B.  B.  swells  up  with  many  twistings 
to  a  white  infusible  mass.  C.c:  67  sUica,  28  alumina,  and  5 
water.  Urals,  Spa,  Morbihan,  Westana  in  Sweden,  Carolina,  and 
Brazil.  Talcosite,  from  Heathcote  in  Victoria,  has  silica  and 
alumina  about  equal. 

641.  Anauxite, 'i^lSij-f  3H. 

Granular.  H. -2  to  3  ;  G.  =2-2  to  2 '4.  Translucent,  pearly. 
Greenish  white.  C.c:  60'6  silica  26  alumina,  and  13-5  water.' 
Bilin  in  Bohemia. 

Hydrous  Silicate.?  of  Zirconia,  Thoria,  fco. 

642.  Malaco-ne,  SZrSi-ffi. 

Pyramidal.  P  83°  30'.  Typical  form  ooPoo,  P,  t» P.  H. -6; 
G,  — 3-9to4'l.  Conchoidal  fracture.  Lustre  vitreous.  C.c.  same 
as  zircon,  but  with  3  of  water  in  the  Hirteto  variety  and  over  9  in 
that  from  Finland.  Has  a  surface  opalescence,  and  may  be  altered 
zircon.  Hittcri),  Chanteloube  (near  Limoges),  ne 
dal,.Finland,  Miask. 

613,    EUCRASITE. 

Right  prismatic  (t).  H. -IS  to  5  ;  G. -43 
Blackish  brown  ;  streak  brown.  Translucent  on  edges.  Fracture 
uneven;  brittle,  C.c.  very  complex  :  silica  16,  thoria  36,  cerium 
protoxide  5-6,  peroxide  0,  lanthania  2  4,  yttria  4-8,  erbia  16, 
titanic  acid  IS,  ferric  oxide  4-25,  alumina  1'8.  water  9.  Barkevig 
near  Brevig. 

644.  Thorite,  ThSi-^ 28. 

Pyramidal.  ooP :  P  133°  30'.  Generally  massive.  H.-4-5 
to  6.  G.- 6  to  5  4.  Lustre  brilliant  vitreous;  when  weathered 
resinous.  Fructuro  conchoidal  when  fresh,  Bplintcry  when 
weathered.  Brownish  black  to  clove  brown.  C.c,  complex,  but 
•ascntially  18  silica,   73  thoria,  9  water.  _   In  syenite  at  Lochan 


r  Dresden,  Rosen- 


Lustre  greasy. 


MINERALOGY 


425 


Fig.  585  (sp.  644). 


Hacon,  asd  ib  a  boulder  on  Ben  Bhreck  in  Sutherland,  in  crystals 
(fig.  585);  Lowo  near  Brevig,  Nor- 
way. Vranothorite,  from  Arendal, 
has  SO  per  cent,  thoria  and  10  uianous 
oxide  ;  found  also  at  Uitteri^  and  at 
Champlain  (TJ.  S.) 

645.  Oeaugite,  8ThSi  +  2fi7 

Massive.  Oran^e-yeliow  to  cinna- 
mon-red. Other  characters  like  tho- 
rite, do. :  17  silica,  75  thoria,  7 
water.  Ben  Bhreck,  Langosund  near 
Brevig.  The  mineral  from  Ben  Bhreck 
passes  gradually  into  thorite,  which 
thus  would  appear  to  be  altered 
orangite. 

646.  Teitouite,  S2Sij  +  4fi. 
Cubic.     In  tetrahedra.     H.  =  5  '5 ; 

G.  =39  to  4 '66.     Lustre  vitreous. 

Dull  brown  ;  streak  yellowish  grey. 

Siibtranslucent.    C.c.  complex:  silica 

21,  aluciina  25,  ceria  40,  lanthania  15,  yttria  4'6,  lime  4,  water  8. 

Lu.ico  nsar  Brevig. 

Maonesian  Silicates. 

647.  AoALMATOLlTE  (/Vyarc  S((»m),  4'AlSio+ESi3  +  3i£. 
Massive  or  slaty.     Fracture  splintery,  rather  sectile.     H.  =2to 

3;  G.  =2'8  to  2'9.  Tracslucent;  glimmering.  Green,  giey,  red,  and 
ycUow.  Feels  somewhat  greasy,  but  does  not  adhere  to  the  tongue. 
Sol.  in  s.  acid.  C.c. :  55  silica,  33  alumina,  7'6  potash,  and  5  water; 
but  in  many  localities  magnesian.  Calligaig  in  Sutherland ;  China, 
where  it  is  cut  into  various  works  of  art;  also  Nagyag  in  Hungary, 
and  Saxony. 

648.  Oncosin,  2^'lSij  +  (g,Mg)Si2  +  2H. 

Fracture  uneven  or  splintery;  sectile.  H.  =  2;G.  =2'8.  Trans- 
lucent; slightly  resinous.  Apple-green  or  brown.  SoL  ins.  not  in 
h.  acid.     Salzburg. 

649.  Liebenerite. 

Hexagonal.  ooP  ;  OP.  01.  prismatic,  perfect ;  fracture  hackly. 
H.  =  3'5;  G.  =2'8.  Oil-green,  bluish  green,  and  greenish  grey. 
Greasy  lustre.  C.c:  silica  447,  alumina  36"5,  potash  9"9,  water 
6 '5.     Monte  Viesena  near  Forno,  Predazzo  in  TyroL 

650.  GlESEOKITE. 

Hexagonal.  ooP;  OP.  Fracture  splintery.  H.  =3to3-5;  G.  =2'7 
to  2  9.     Kangerdluarsuk  in  Greenland,  Biana  in  New  York. 

651.  KULINITE,  2AlSi2-fKSi2-l-3fi. 

Crystalline,  foliated.  CI.  along  a  prism  of  135°  44'.  G.  ■=2-65. 
Greenish  grey,  yellow,  or  brownish  green.  C.  c. :  48  silica,  31  alumina, 
2 '3  protoxide  of  iron,  6 '6  potash,  10  water.    Killiney  near  Dublin. 

652.  Hygbophilite. 

Scaly.  H."2to2-5;  G.  =2'7.  .  Greenish  grey.  Lustre  and  feel 
greasy.  C.c:  silica  48'4,  alumina  32-1,  protoxide  of  iron  3-3, 
potash  S  1,  water  9.     Sol  in  h.  acid.     Halle  on  the  Saale. 

653.  Bkavaisite,  R^Sij -f  2AlSi3 -I- 4fi . 

Aggregatesof  thin  plates.  H.  =  1  to2;  G.  =2'6.  C.c:  silica 51  "4, 
alumina  18-9,  peroxide  of  iron  4,  magnesia  3'3,  potash  6-5,  water 
13-3.     Noyant  in  Allier. 

654.  PlNITOID. 

Massive.  Leek- and  oil. green.  H.  =2'5;  G.  =  2'8.  Co. :  silica 
48 '5,  alumina  28,  protoxide  of  iron  8,  potash  6 '8,  water  4-5.  Frei- 
berg and  Chemnitz  in  Saxony. 

655.  Bole. 

Earthy,  in  nests  and  veins..  Conchoidal.  H.  =  1  to  2;  G.  =»  2  '2  to 
2*5.  Opat^ue  ;  dull  resinous;  streak  shining.  Brown,  yellow,  or 
red.  Feels  greasy;  some  adhere  strongly  to  the  tongue,  others  not 
stall.  In  water  crackles  and  falls  to  pieces.  C.c.  hydrous  silicates 
of  aluniiua  and  iron  peroxide,  in  various  proportions.  Scotland, 
Ireland,  Dransfeld,  Clennont  in  Auvergne.  Slolpcnite,  Rock  Soap, 
Plinthitc,  Yellow  Earth  or  Fclinite,  Fdbol,  and  Ochran  are  varieties. 

656.  Carpholite,  ilSi  +  ilnSi -f  2fi . 

.  Right  prismatic  Plll°27'.  Radiating  stellated.  H.  =  5  to  6-5; 
G.  =  2-9.  Translucent;  silky;  straw- to  wax-yellow.  B.B.  intuniesces 
and  fuses  to  an  opaque  brown  glass.  C.c. :  silica  38,  alumina  29-4, 
protoxide  of  iron  2;9,  peroxide  of  iron  4,  protoxide  of  manganese 
11-8,  water  10-8.  Schlaggeuwald,  Wippra  in  the  Harz,  Meuville 
b  the  Ardennes. 

657.  NONTEOKITE,  ¥^'eSi3-f  6H.^ 

Massive;  fracture  uneven.  H.-2  to  3;  6.-2  to  2'3.'  Opaque; 
dull  or  glimmering;  streak  resinous.  Straw-yellow  or  siskin-green. 
B.  B.  decrepitates,  becomes  black  and  magnetic,  but  without  fusing; 


sol.  and  gelatinizes  in  warm  acids.  C.c. :  43  silica,  36  iron  peroxide, 
and  21  water,  with  3 '5  alumina  and  2  magnesia.  Nontion  in 
France,  Harz,  and  Bavaria.  CMoropal  is  similar,'  E.B.  brown. 
Cnghvar  in  Hungary,  and  Passau. 

658.  PiNoniTE.  _ 

Massive;  fracture  splintery;  sectile.  H.  =  l;  G.  =  2'3.  Lightto 
dark  green.  Lustre  vitreous.  Feels  greasy.  C.c. :  Silica  36'9,  per- 
oxide of  iron  29'5,  protoxide  of  iron  61,  water  25'1.  \Volkenstein, 
SuhL  ~ 

659.  HisiNGERITE,  FejSi3-f2f'eSi-(-9fi.> 

Reniform,  and  in  crusts.  H.  —S'S  to  4  ;  G.  =2'3  to  S:w  Opaque, 
resinous.  Brownish  or  bluish  black;  streak  liver-brown  or  yellowish 
brown.  C.c:  various,  but  32'5  silica,  33*6  iron  peroxide,  15'1 
iron  protoxide,  and  19  water,  in  the  Thraulite  from  Bodenmais, 
Also  Gilling  and  Riddarhyttan  in  Sweden,  and  Breitenbrimn 
(Polyhydrile). 

660.  Eergholzi. 

Fine  fibrous;  glimmering  lustre.  Wood-brown  to  green.  G.=2'4. 
C.c:  silica  55 '5,  peroxide  of  iron  19'6,  magnesia  15,  water  lO'S. 
Sterzing  in  Tyrol.    Xylite,  probably  from  the  Urals,  is  similar. 

661.  UUBER. 

Massive;  fracture  conchoidal.  H.  =1'5;  G.  — 2'2.  Liver-brown; 
streak  shining.  Mixtures  of  peroxide  of  iron,  o^iidc  of  manganese, 
and  alumina  with  water.  Cyprus.  Hypoxanthite  and  Sidcrosili- 
cite  are  similar. 

162.  Klipsteinite,  (R3,  SaJjSia-f  R3H3. 

Compact.  H. —5  to  5'5;  G.  =  3"6.  Liver-brown  to  black ;  streak 
yellow-brown.  C.c:  silica  25,  peroxide  of  iron  4,  sesouioxide  of 
manganese  57,  water  9.  Klapperud  in  Dalecarlia.  Herbora  near 
Dillenburg. 

663.  Wglkonskoite. 

Araoi-phous.  Horny ;  bluish  green  to  grass-green.  '  Fracture  con- 
choidal; brittle.  C.c:  silica  36,  alumina  3,  sesquioxide  of  chromium 
19,  ferric  oxide  10,  water  21.    Okhansk  in  Siberia. 

664.  RiJTTISITE,  3NiSi-f4H. 

Amorphous  and  reniform.  Apple-green  to  emerald-green.  H.  =  2 
to  2-5;  G.  =  2-35  to 2-37.  C.c:  silica 437,  nickel  oxide  35-0,  water 
11  '2.     Rottis  near  Reichenbach  in  Saxony.     KoviarU  is  similar. 

665.  Ubanophane,  3CaSi-ftJ'5Si3-l-18H. 

Right  prismatic.  ooP  146°;  ooPoo  ;  Poo;  witb  polar  angle  60°. 
Crystals  honey-yellow ;  when  massive  leek-green.  H.  «»2'5;  G. « 
2 '6  to  2 '8.  C.c:  silica  17,  alumina  6'1,  oxide  of  nraniuia  53'3, 
lime  5"i,  water  15'1.     Kupferberg  in  Silesia. 

666.  Uranotile,  CaSi-Htfa'Sij-HgH. 

Right  prismatic.  coP  164.  In  stellate  groups.  Lembn.yellow. 
G.  =  3-96.  C.c:  silica  13-8,  oxide  of  uranium  6675,  liino  5-J7, 
water  12'67.  Wolsendcrf  in  Bavaria,  Joachimsthal,  Mitchel  counly 
in  North  Carolina. 

667.  BisMUTOFERBiTE,  Bi,  Sij, -f  2Fe,Si . 
Crypto-crystalliue  ;   oblique  prismatic      Siskin-  to  olive-grccn. 

H.  =3-5;  G.  =4-48.  C.c:  silica  24,  o-xide  of  bismuth  42'8,  pevo-:ide 
of  iron  33  "1.  Schneeberg  in  Saxony.  Hypochlorite  is  a  variety 
containing  13  of  bismuth.  In  a  tlurd  varietv.  from  Brannsdoif, 
antimony  replaces  bismuth. 

Silicates  witu  Titanates,  Niobates,  &c. 

668.  Sphene,  (JaSij-fCaTij. 

OHique  prismatic,  C  85°  22'.  ooP  (I)  133°2' ;  JF"*  {x)  55° 
21';P"'a)  (y)34°21';  ooP^oo  (y) :  0P(i'or(;)90°;  ooP«3  (i/)  76°  7' ; 
P=«  (r)  113°  30' ;  §P=2  (n)  136°  12' ;  4P=4  (s)  67°  57'.  Crystals 
vary  extremely  in  form,  being  generally  ajipar- 
ently  oblique-tabular,  from  predominance  of 
71,  which  are  hemidomes  in  alternate  position 
on  opposite  ends ;  also, 
but  more  rarely,  pris- 
matic, with  dominance 
of  I  and  M.  Twins  fre- 
quent. Twin  face  c, 
and  formed  by  revolution 
either  (a)  on  an  axis  nor- 
mal to  c  or  (6)  on  a  vertical 
axis ;  the  former  very 
common  and  usually  pro- 
ducing thin  tables  with 
a  re-entering  angle  alon(y" 
one  side,  and  sometimes 
elongated.  Occasionally 
in  double  twins.  Some- 
times granular  or  foliated.     ^ x-,,  —  .  .       .         , 

to  5-5  :  G.  =3-4  to  3-6.    Semitransparent ;  adnmantiueorresiuousj 
XVI.  —  54- 


Fig.  5S6.  ^Fig.  687 

CI.  iiTsomc  {I),  in  others  (r).      H. 


426 


MINERALOGY 


Yellow,  browB,  and  green.  B.  B.  fuses  with  micro-salt  in  the  red. 
flame,  gives  reaction  for  titanic  acid.  C.c. :  silica  SO  6,  titanic  acid 
40'8,  lime  23  •&.  In  Scotland,  typical  of  syenites  and  primary  lime- 
stones. In  minute  hair-brown  crystals  in  the  first;  as  at  Lairg 
.(Sutherland),    Achavarasdale   (Caithness),    and   Criffel   (Kirkcud- 


Fig.  688.  Fig.  589. 

bright)  (figs.  636  to  58S).  In  the  latter  often  in  highly  complex 
twins,  yellow  to  brown,  at  Shinness  (figs.  193,  589),  Urquhart, 
Dalnain,  Torbane,  &c.,  also  with  ilmenite  and  allanite  in  exfiltra- 
tion  veins  of  grey  granite.  Dauphin^,  Mont  Blanc,  St  Gotthard, 
Tyrol,  Arendal,  America.  Grcniovite,  flesh-red  from  Glen  Gairn 
in  Aberdeenshire  (like  194),  and  3t  Marcel  in  Piedmont;  contains 
manganese  at  the  latter  locality. 

669.  KEiiHAUiTE  ( YttTotitanite),  5(CaY)  (Sif  i)  -t-  (KWe)  (Sif  1)3 . 
Oblique  prismatic,  C  53°.     ooP  114.     CL-2P,  138°.     H.  =6to 

7  ;  G.  =3*6  to  37.  Blackish  brown  ;  streak  greyish  yellow.  B.B. 
■with  borax  fori^s  blood-red  glass  in  the  red.  flame ;  other  features 
like  sphene.  C.c:  297  silica,  287  titanic  acid,  21-1  lime,  lO'S 
yttria,  6*2  alumina,  and  6  "5  iron  peroxide.     Near  ArendaL 

670.  SoHORLOMiTE  (Fen-o^i'/aitiVe),  CajSi-FyejSij-J-CaTij. 
Cubic  ;    raO  and  202  ;  generally  massive  ;  fracture  conchoidal. 

H.  — 7  to  7'5  ;  G.  — 3'8.  tBlack  ;  streak  grey-black ;  vitreous.  C.c.; 
silica  26,  titanic  acid  23 '3,  peroxide  of  iron  20,  lime29'4.  Arkansas, 
ICaiserstuhl,  Ivaara  in  Finland.     Perhaos  a  titaniferous  garnet. 

671.  TsOHEWklNITE. 

Massive;  fracture  flat  conchoidal.  H.  =  5  to  5 "5;  G.  =  4"5. 
Opariue,  vitreous,  splendent.  Velvet-black  ;  streak  dark  brown. 
B.B.  iutumcsces  gieatly,  becomes  porous,  and 
often  incandesces  ;  iu  white  heat  fuses  to  black 
glass  ;  gelatinizes  with  h.  acid.  C.c:  21  silica, 
20  titanic  acid,  11  iron  protoxide,  45  peroxides 
of  cerium  metals  with  jicrhaps  thoria,  lime  4. 
Miask,  Coromandel. 

672.  MOSANDEITE. 

Oblique  prismatic,  C  71°  24J'.  mP  (<)  68° 
36';  c»P''2  («);  c»P»cD  (a);  -P  (c)  124°  1'; 
-P°oo  (j);  ooP=oo.  t:  a  134°  18';  n  :  a  162° 
62' ;  q  -.a  138°  2'.  Twin  face  the  orthopinacoid. 
Generally  massive.  Fracture  uneven.  H.  =4; 
G. -2'93to3.  Yellowish  or  reddish  brown; 
streak  pale  green.  Vitreous  to  resinous  lustre. 
C.c. :  silica  29  '9,  titanic  acid  9  ■9,  oxide  of  cerium 
metals  26-5,  lime  19,  water  8'9.  Brcvig  and 
Langcsundfiord. 

673.  Ei'DiALiTE  (JJiiWrte),  6RSi.-f  SZr. 

Khombohedj-al ;  K  73°  10'.  R  (])),  OR  (aj,  00 P2  (<l{),  JR  (a^) 
also  t»R,  JR,  -*Ii.  -2R.  -iK.  F-S,  tP2 
(fig.  691).  Generally  massive,  granular. 
CI.  «!  and  rtg ;  fracture  uneven.  H.  =  5 
to5'5;  G. -2-84  to  2 -95.  Peachblossom- 
rcd  to  brownish  red  ;  slreak  white.  Trans- 
lucent; vitreous.  B.B.  fuses  easily  to  a 
light-green  opaque  glass  ;  gelatinizes  iu 
h.  acid.  C.c:  silica  50,  zirconia  16-9, 
protoxide  of  iron  7,  lime  11,  soda  12. 
Kangerdluai'suk  in  Greenland,  Sedlova- 
toi  Island  iu  'Wniito  Sea,  Brcvig  {Eid-o- 
lite).  Magnet  Cove  in  Arkansas. 

674.  CATAPLEITE,2(i*a.0a)(SiZr)p-f  9ft. 
Hexagonal.     P  1U°  48'.    OP,  ooP,  P, 

also  with  2P,  and  JP.  In  lamellar  aggro- 
gates.  CI.  prismatic  and  P ;  fracture 
uneven.     H. -6;G. -2'8.    Yellowish  br 

yellow,  lustrous.  C.c:  silica  467,  zirconia  29'6,  soda  108.  water 
9.     Brcvig. 

675.  CErstedite. 

Pyramidal.  P  84°  25'.  P,  ooP,  »P«.  Like  zircon.  H.-5-5; 
G.  -303.  Lustre  adamantine  Reddish  brown.  C.c:  silica  197, 
titanate  of  zirconia  08  -96,  water  6  6.     Arondal. 


590  (sp.  672), 


591  (sp.  673). 
n  to  pale  green  ;  streak 


676.  WoHUBEiTE,  9iiSi-H3RZr-(-{iS?b. 

Oblique  prismatic,  C  70°  46'.  ooP  ! 
-P^to  43°  18'.  OP  :  coP'oo  109° 
15;  -P°«>  :  "P'oo  136°  42'  ; 
OP  :  ooP  103°  31'.  Crystals  tabu- 
lar and  prismatic  CI.  clinodia- 
gonal;  fracture  conchoidal.  H.  —  5 
to6;G. -3-4.  Light  yellow,  honey- 
yellow  to  brownish  grey ;  streak 
yellowish  white.  C.c:  silica  28, 
zirconia  19,  niobic  acid  13  "9,  lime 
27'8,  soda  8'3,  protoxide  of  iron 
3.  B.B.  fuses  to  yellowish  glass. 
Sol.  in   h.   acid.      Langesundfiord. 


677.  Aedennite. 

Right  prismatic.  mP  131°  2' ;  Poo  112°  24';  H;  »P| ;  "f  2  ; 
t>5p»  ;  mfto.  Crystals  like  ilvanite.  CI.  brachydiagonal,  and 
t»P.  H. -6  to7  ;  G.  ~3'62.  Yellow  to  yellow-brown.  Dichroic; 
brittle.  C.c. :  silica  27  '8,  alumina  24,  protoxide  of  manganese  267, 
lime  2'2,  magnesia  4'3,  vanadic  acid  3'2,  arsenic  acid  6'3.  water  5. 
Ottrez  in  the  Ardennes  (Luxemburg). 

678.  ROSCOELITE. 

Foliated  masses,  sometimes  stellated.  H.  =  1;  G.  =<2'3  to  2'9. 
Dark  green  to  greenish  bine.  Pearly  lustre.  C.c;  silica  477, 
vanadic  acid  22,  alumina  14'1,  magnesia  2  potash  7'6,  water  5. 
Eldorado  iu  California. 

TITANATES  'WITH  NIOBATES. 

679.  TiTAKOMOEPHITE,  CaTi,. 

Oblique  prismatic.  Like  sphene.  00 P,  OP,  5P°«J,  P°<», 
IV^2.     C.c:  titanic  aciri  74*3    lime  25*3.     Lampersdorf  in  Silesia, 

iVeistiitz. 

680.  Peeovskite,  CaTi . 

Right  prismatic.  In  complicated  twins,  often  distorted,  pseudo- 
cubic.  H.  — 5'5;  G.  =4to4'l.  Lustremetallic- 
adamantine.  Pale  yellow,  reddish  brown  to 
iron-black;  streak  grey.  C.c:  58*8  titanic 
acid,  41 '2  lime.  B.B.  with  micro-salt  in  outer 
flame  gives  a  bead  greenish  while  hot,  colour- 
less on  cooling;  in  inner  flame  grey-green 
when  hot,  violet-blue  when  cold.  Decomposed 
by  boiling  s.  acid.  Zlatoust,  Schelingen,  Zer- 
matt,  Malenco  Valley  near  Sondrio,  Plitsch 
in  Tyrol,  Magnet  Cove  in  Arkansas. 

681.  KoppiTE,  RjNb. . 
Cubic;  ooOrn.     G. -4'45  to  4-56.     Brown.    Transrarent.    C.c: 

niobic  acid    62'46,  oxide  of  cerium  6  7,  oxide  of  lanthanum  3. 
Schelingen  on  the  Kaiserstuhl  in  Baden. 

632.  AxSERoDiiE,  2RjJfb-h5S: 

r.ight  prismatic.  H  =  6.  G  6  7.  Mcte.llic  to  greasy.  Black. 
Streak  black,  brown,  greenish  grey.  Translucent  in  splinters; 
brittle.  C.c:  48 niobic  acid,  with  zirconia,  thoria,  ceria,  yttria, 
and  uranium  o.xide.     Annerbd  near  Moss  'Norway). 

683.  DysAnaltte,  eR'Ti-hRJib. 

Cubic;  mOoo.  CI.  cubic.  G. -4-13.  Black.  C.c:  titanic  acid 
41 '5,  niobic  acid  23  2,  cerium  oxide  57,  lime  19 '8;  protoxide  cl 
iron  5  "8,  soda  3*6.     Vogtsburg  on  the  Kaisenstuhl. 

634.  PruocHLOHE,  5RJfb-h4ii(Ti'ifh)5-l-4NaF. 

Cubic  (fig.  694).  Cl.  oclaliedral ;  brittle ;  fractnre  conchoidal. 
H. -5;  G. -4 -2  to  4-4.  Resinous, 
opaque.  Red-brown  to  black,  ruby- 
red  and  transparent  rarely;  streak 
pale  brown.  C.c:  niobic  acid 
53-2,  titanic  acid  10-5,  thoria  7'6, 
cerium  oxide  7,  lime  14 '2,  soda 
5,  fluorine  3  1.  Miask,  Kaiser- 
stuhl, Brovig,  and  Fjoderiksvarn. 
Microlitc,  from  Chesterfield  in 
Massachusetts,  has  tnntalic  acid 
C8'4,-  niobic  acid  776,  1 17  lime 
and  77  protoxide  of  manganese. 
I'linhitc  from  JIursinsk  in  the 
Urals,  San  Picro  in  Elba,  and  tho 
Azores  may  be  the  same  ;  at  tlie 
last  locality  it  is  in  orange-red 
oct.ahedra,  and  is  a  uiobatc  of  zirconia. 

GS5.  Elomstbasditb,  (Ca,Fe),  Ti-^^jrjfbJ-^^^. 
.Missive.     U.-6-5.     G. -417  to  4-25.    Vitreous,  block.     Etreait 


.594. 


MINERALOGY 


427 


^oiRi.  "Rjuulocent  in  iplinters."  C.c. :  niobic  ecid  49-8,  titanic 
Boid  107,  onnium  oxide  237,  protoxide  of  iron  3-3,  lime  8'6, 
water  7-D.    NoU  (Sweden);      ^f 

886.  POLTOEAaB,  4BTi  +  Mb. 

Bigbt  jnlsmatic  (fig.  695).  oof  is ,  ooP 
(140°),  P,  2P«J  (66°).  Fracture  coHchoidal. 
H.  -6  to  6  ;  0.-5-1.  Black  ;  atreak  grey- 
brown.  6.B.  decrepitates  violently,  incan* 
descing,  but  does  not  fuse.  Sol.  in  «.  acid. 
Co.:  titanic  acid  26  fi,  niobic  acid  20-4,  yttria 
23-3,  erbia  7'5,  oxide  of  uranium  77,  water 
4.  Hittero  (Norway).  Slettikra  in  Jonkop- 
ing  (Sweden). 

587.  EincENiTE,  2RiH+Mb  +  fi. 
Eight  prismatic  (6g.  696).  ooP  (m)  140°f 
oof  oo  (6) ;  2P00  (d)  62" ;  P  (p\  102°  68'. 
p  :  6  103°  6'.  Fracture  conchoidaL  Opaque  ; 
metallic  to  vitreous.  Black  and  brownish 
black;  streak  red-brown.  B.  B.  infusible.  Not 
acted  on  by  acids.  C.c. i  niobic  acid  32, 
titanic  acid  19 '2,  uranium  oxide  19 '5,  yttria 
18 '2,  cerium  oxide  2 '8,  but  variable. 
Jblster,  Tromo,  Alvo,  ic,  in  Norway  ;  also 
Hittero  and  Cape  lindesnaes. 

688.  .AsOHTKiTE.  Fig.  596. 
Bight  priamatic    ooP  (If)  128'  34';  2?oo  (y)  73°  16' ;  P  (0  :  0) 

137°  14';  ooP3  69*  23';  Poo  ;  OP.  Crystals  long  prismatic  (fig. 
697).      CL  traces ;   fracture   imperfect  conchoidal.  ^r^ 

H.-6to6-5;  G.-4-9  to  5-1.  Opaque  ;  submatallio  /v\\ 
or  resinous.  Iron-blick  or  brown  ;  streak  yellow-  /^4-"V'\ 
ish  brown.  B.B.  swells  and  becomes  yellow  or 
brown,  but  is  infusible.  Kot  sol.  in  h.  acid, 
partially  in  s.  acid.  C.c:  niobic  and  t°nCalic  acids 
28  -8,  titanic  acid  22  '6,  thorium  oxide  15'7,  cirtam 
protoxide  185,  lanthanum  oxide  and  didymiam 
oxide  6  '6.     Kiask,  Hittero. 

689.  PoLYMIONITB.  ■ 
Right  prismatic     P  (p)  polar  136'  28'  and  116° 

W  ;  ooP  109°  46' ;  ooPaj ; 
oof  00  (fig.  698).  Cn.  macro- 
and  brachydiagonal,  imper- 
fect ;  fracture  conchoidaL  H.  —  6  '5  ;  Q.  — 
4*7  to  4-8.  Opaque;  semixoetallic  Iron- 
black  ;  stt-eak  dark  brovsa.  B.B.  infusible. 
Sol.  inh.  acid.  C.c:  titanic  acid  46  3,  zir- 
conia  14-1,  yttria  ll-5,ltme  4-1,  iron  peroxide 
12-4,  cerium  ox- 
ide 6.  Frederiks- 
vUm. 

690.  Menqite, 
(^,  Zr)*!. 
Right  prisma- 
ti*."  :  P(«)  polar  angle  151°  27'  and  101° 

IC;  >»P186°20';  oofS;  ooPoo  (fig.  699X. 
Fracture  uneven,  H.  — 5  to  5-5;  O. — 
5-48.  Opaque  ;  semimetallic.  Iron- 
black  ;  dtreik  chestnut-brown.  B.  B. 
infusible,  but  becomes  maf^etio.  Sol. 
in  8.  acid.     Miask,  Groix  island  in  Uorbihan. 

891.  Tantalite,  ie  (¥a,  jSb). 

Right  prismatic.  P  (p)  with  polar  edges  126°  and  112°  30', 
middle  91°  4^.  .  aff  (r)  122°  63  •  oopoo  (s); 
oof 00  (();  f»  (m)  US'  48;  3f<»  (q)  54° 
IC;  if  00  (n)  167°  36';  fPj  (r) ;  2P2  (0). 
Fracture  coacholdal  or  uneven,  H.  —  6  to 
6-6;G. -ei  to  8.  Opaque;  semimetallic, 
adamantine,  or  resinous.  Iron-black  ;  streak 
cinnamon-  or  coffee-brown.  B.B.  infusible  ; 
scarcely  affected  by  acids.  Cc. :  76  to  50  tan- 
talic  acid,  7 '5  to  29  niobic  acid,  9  to  16  iron 
protoxide,  and  1  to  6  manganese  protoxide  ;  some  with  1  to  10  tin 
oxide  {Casaiterotantalite) ;  also  in  union  with  iron  (manganese) 
ytotoxide.  Kimito  and  Tammela  in  Finland,  Broddbo  and  Finbo 
near  Falun,  and  Chanteloube  near  Limoges ;  alwaja  in  granite. 

692.  Tapiolite,  4fe¥a  +  f'eKb. 

Pyramidal  P  middle  angle  84*  62',  summit  123°!'.    H.-6;-G.- 


Fig.  697 
(sp,  638). 


/Fig.  698  («p.  689), 


Fig.  eeO  (sp, 


Fig.  600. 


7-2  to  7-6.    Black.    Lustrous.    C.c:  tantalic  acid  78-9,  niobic  acid 
11-2,  protoxide  of  iron  16.     Tammela  in  Finland. 

693.  CoLxriCBITE,  mtejifb -mf^ia . 

Right  prismatic.  P  («)  polar  angles  104°  10"  and  161',  middle 
angle  83'  8';  OP  (c);  ooPoo  (J);  ooF<o  (a);  o=P  (j)  136'  40'; 
ooi-oo  (m)  101'  26';  2P  (») ;  3!'3  (0);  3fi  (w) ;  Jpco  (!)  lei'i; 
?«.  (t)  143° ;  2f  00  (A)  112°  26' ;  Poo  (f)  101'  12' ;  2Pa!  («)  62°  40'. 
Hemitropes,  face  e ;  vertical  axes  forming  an  angle  of  62°  40' ;  also 
on  faces  2P2  (n),  and  rarely  b.  Also  granular  and  foliated.'  CL 
brachydiagonal,  perfect,  also  macrodiagonal.  H.  —  6  ;  G.  —  6-4  to 
6  4.    Metallic,  adamantine.    Iron-black  to  brownish  ;  streak  blade 


ZSEZZv 


'isiiL-^ 


Fig.  603. 


Fig.  601.  Fig.  602. 

or  reddish  brown.  B.B.  infiwihle  ;  not  affected  by  acids.  CcH 
isomorphic  mixtures  of  niobic  and  tantalic  acids  with  protoxide  of 
iron  (or  manganese).  Pure  columbite  would  give  78-8  niobic  acid, 
pure  tantalite  86  tantalic  acid.  The  niobic  acid  generally  prevails, 
and  the  crystals  are  better  formed  the  more  this  is  the  case. 
Rabenstein,  Bodenmais,  Chanteloube,  Finland,  Ilmen  Hills, 
Evigtok  in  Greenland,  Haddam  and  Middletown  in  Connecticut, 
Acworth  in  New  Hampshirs,  Pike's  Peak  in  Colorado. 

694.  Ytthotantalite,  (Y,  Ca,  Fe,  tl)j(*a,  W,  Nb). 

In  two  varieties,     (n)  BlacH.     Eight  prismatic  ;  in  short  pris- 
matic or  tabular  crystals,      oofoo ;    ooP  (m)  121°  48'.     OP  :  2? 00 

103°  26' ;  p!o  :  OP  131°  26';  »  :  i  140' 
42'  (fig.  604) ;  also  in  grains  aud  lamellee. 
CL  brachydiagonal,  indistinct;  fracture 
conchoidal  or  uneven.  Opaque,  or  in  thin 
splinters  translucent.  Velvet-black,  semi* 
metallic  lustre,  and  greenish  grey  streak. 
H.-5-5;  G. -5-4  to  57,  (b)  Yelloio. 
Amorphous,  yellowish  brown,  or  yellow, 
often  striped  or  spotted  ;  resinous  or  vitre- 
ous ;  streak  white.  G. -5-46  to  6-88. 
Both  varieties  B.B.  infusible,  but  become  „.     g^. 

brown  or  yellow.      Not  affected  by  acids.  '8-  "    • 

C.c:  67  to  60  tantalic  acid,  1  to  8  tungstic  acid,  0  to  20  niobic 
acid,  29  to  aS  yttria,  0  5  to  6  lime,  0-6  to  6  uranium  peroxide, 
and  0-6  to  3-5  iron. peroxide.     Ytterby,  and  near  Falun. 

695.  Ferousonite,  (Y,  Er,  (5e)3(i!fb,  ¥a). 

Pyiemidal  and  hemihedric  ;  P  (5)  128°  28'.     Usual  form  (i)  3P| 

(j),  P,  J  00 Pi    (y).  OP  (c)  (fig,  605),     *:»  100'  

54',  f.c  115'  16',  s:  r  169^  17.  CI.  traces 
along  P;  fracture  imperfect  conchoidal;  brittle. 
H,-5-6  to  6;  G. -5-6  to  6-9.  Translucent 
in  thin  splinters  ;  semimetallic.  Brownish 
black;  streak  pale  brown.  B.B.  infusible.  , 
C.c:  chiefly  niobic  acid  and  yttria,  with  erbia,  1 
also  a  little  cerium  protoxide,  tin  oxide,  ura- 
nium oxide,  and  iron  protoxide.  Cape  Fare- 
well in  Greenland,  Ytterby,  Riesengebirge, 
Rockportin  Massachusetts.  Tyrilt,  from  Helle 
near  Arendal,  is  similar. 

696.  Hjblmite, 
Massive,  with  granular  fracture  and  traces 

of  erystala.  H, -6;  G, -6-82.  Velvet-black; 
black.  Lustre  metallic.  Cc, :  tantalic  acid  62-4,  tin  6  6,  uranium 
4-9,  protoxide  of  iron  8-1,  yttria  6-2,  B,B,  infusible.  In  closed 
tube  decrepitates  and  yields  water.     Kararfvet  near  Falun. 

697.  Samabskite  (UranotantaliU),  (fl3,R,R5),^*a)3. 
Right  prismatic      ooP  122°  46';   o=f  2  96°;  Poo   93°;  P;   oopoo ; 

ooPoo  ;  3pJ  ;  also  in  grains.  Fracture  conchoidal ;  brittle,  H.  - 
6-56;  G.  —  5-6  to  6-76.  Opaque;  strong  semimetallic.  Velvet- 
black  ;  streak  dark  reddish  brown.  B.B.  fuses  on  the  edges  to  a 
black  glass.  In  the  closed  tube  decrepitates,  yields  water,  incan- 
desces, and  becomes  browi,     Sol.  in  h.  acid  to  a  greenish  fluid. 


428 


MINERALOGY 


C.c. :  37'J  niobic  acid,  18'6  tantalic  acid,  12  iron  protoxide,  14  to 
20  uranium  oxide,  6  thorium  oxide,  4  zirconia,  and  16  yttria  with 
lime  and  magnesia,  filiask,  Mitchell  county  in  North  Carolina.^ 
The  YUroiLncnile  of  Hermann. 

C98.  NoHLiTE,  RjNb. 

Massive.  H-4-5to5;  G.  =5-04.  Black-brown.  Splintery.' 
Brittle.  Opaque;  vitreous.  Niobic  acid  50'4,  uranium oxido  14-4, 
2irconia  3,  ferrous  oxide  8,  yttria  14'4,  lime  47,  water  4-6.  Nohl 
near  Kongelf  (Sweden). 

699.  Hatchettolite. 

Cubic;  0,  ooOoo.  Yellowish  brown.  Resinous  lustre.  Frac- 
ture conchoidal.  H. -5;  G. -4-8  to  4-9.  C.c:  niobic  acid  34-3, 
tantalic  acid  29'8,  uranium  oxide  15-5,  lime  8-9,  water  4'6.  North 
Carolina. 

ANTIMONUTES. 

700.  RoMEiTE,  CajS'bSb . 

Pyramidal;  P 110°  50'.  Scratches  glass.  G.  =47. 'Honey-yellow 
or  hyacinth-red.  B.B.  fuses  to  a  blackish  slag.  Sol.  in  acids. 
C.c. :  41-3  antimonic  acid,  37-3  antimony  oxide,  and  21-4  lime,  but 
with  2  to  3  manganese  and  iron  proto.xide.     St  Marcel  in  Piedmont. 

Schnccbcrgite,  from  Tyrol,  may  be  an  impure  variety. 

701.  Blelniere,  fb^Sb,  8b)  +  H . 

Eeniform  and  massive.  H.  =  4  ;  G.  =  3  -9  to  4  '8.  Translucent ; 
resinous  to  earthy.  Colourless,  yellow,  brown,  and  grey.  B.B. 
reduced  on  charcoal.  C.c;  oxide  of  lead  41  to  62,  antimonious 
acid  32  to  47,. water  6  to  12.     Lostmthiel,  Horhausen,  Nertcliinsk. 

702.  Nadokite,  PbSb-HPbClj. 

Eight  prismatic  ;  ooP  132°  51'.  Crystals  tabular.  CL  macro- 
diagonal.  H.  —  3;  G.  =7.  Yellowish  or  greyish  brown.  Resinous 
to  ad.imantine  ;  translucent.  C.c:  lead  52*2,  antimony  30 '8, 
o-\'ygen  8,  chlorine  9.     Constantino  (Algeria). 

703.  ElVOTlTE. 

Massive.  Yellowish  to  gre}'ish  green.  Opaque  ;  fracture  un- 
even ;  brittle.  H. -3-5  to  4;  G. -3-6.  C.c:  oxide  of  copper 
39-6,  oxide  of  silver  1'2,  antimonic  acid  42,  carbonic  acid  21. 
Sierra  del  Cadi  in  the  province  of  Lerida.  Thrmnholiic  from  Rez- 
banya,  Hungary,  may  be  a  hydrated  variety. 

704.  Mellite,  Al(Ci20s)  +  18H. 
Pyramidal  ;  P  93°  5'.     OP;  Poo;  and   coPco 

conchoidal ;  brittle.  H.- 2  to  2-5;  G. -=l-5to 
1"6.  Transparent;  doubly  refractive;  vitre- 
ous. Honey-yellow  or  reddish  ;  streak  white. 
In  closed  tube  yields  water.  B.B.  chars  with- 
out odour.  Burns  white  and  acts  like  alumina. 
Sol.  in  n.  acid  or  potash.  C.c. :  alumina  14-4, 
mellic  acid   40-3,    water   45-3.      In  lignite  at  Fig.  606. 

Artern    in   Thuringia   and    Luschitz  in   Bohemia;    Walchow  in 
Moravia  (cretaceous);  in  coal  at  Malovka  iu  Tida. 

705.  Ox.ALiTE,  2Fee3  +  3a. 
Capillary  crystals,  also  botryoidal  or  compact ;  fracture  uneven  ; 

H.  — 2;G.=2-2.  Opaque;  resinous  to  dull.  Straw-yellow, 
to  yellow  solution  in  acids.  C.c: 
acid,  15 '8  water.  In  lignite  at 
and  Gross  Almei'ode  in  H  esse. 


CI.  P  ;  fracture 


sectLli 

B.B.  turns  black,  then  red 

42-1  iron  proto.xide,  42-1   oxal: 

Kolosoruk  near  Bilin,  Duisburg 
706.  Whewellite,  Ca'e  +  H 
Oblique  prismatic,  C  72°  41', 

brittle      H. -2-6   to  2-8;   G.^ 

vitreous.     Colourless. 

water.    Hungary. 


ojP  100°  36'.     CI.  basal,  perfect; 

■1*838.      Transparent  to   opaque; 

C.c:  49-31   oxalic  acid,  38-36  lime,  12-33 


THE  MINERAL  RESINS. 
Many  of  these  are  only  vegetable  resins  slightly  altered.  Naphtha 
is  fluid  ;  the  others  solid,  with  H.  -1  to  2  or  2-5.  Most  are  amor- 
phous, a  few  crystalline  and  monocliuic  G.  -0-6  to  1  -6.  Mostly 
resinous  ;  colourless,  or  coloured  brown,  yellow,  or  red,  with  paler 
streak.  Sol.  in  acids,  alcohol,  ether,  and  oUs.  Melt  readily,  and 
bum  with  fiamo  and  smoke. 

707.  NArHTHA,  Petholeum,  CH„. 

Liquid.  Colourless,  yellow,  or  brown.  Transparent  or  translu- 
cent. G. -0-7  to  0-9.  Volatilizes  in  the  atmosphere  with  an 
aromatic  bituminous  odour.  C.c:  84  to  88  carbon,  aud  12  to  16 
hydrogen.     Varieties  are — 

Knphtha. — Very  fluid,  transparent,  and  light  yellow.  Tegern 
Lake  iu  Bavaria,  Amiano  near  Parma,  Salics  in  the  Pyrenees, 
Rangoon,  Baku  on  the  Caspian  Sea,  China,  Persia,  and  North 
America.     Used  for  burning,  and  in  prej^aring  vnroislies. 

Petroleum. — Darker  yellow  or  blackish  brown  ;  less  fluid  or 
Tolatile. .  Ormskirk  in  Lancoshiro ;  Coalbrookdale,  PitcUfoid,  and 


Madeley  in  Shropshire  ;  St  Catherine's  "Well,  south  of  Edinburgh ; 
Mainland  of  Orkney  ;   and  many  other  parts  of  Europe. 

708.  Elaterite  {Elastic  Bitumen,  Mineral  Caoutchcuc)^ C^ . 
Compact  ;  reniforra  or  fungoid ;  elastic  and  flexible  like  caout- 

"chouc,  very  soft.  G.  =  0 -8  to  1 '23.  Resinous.  Blackish,  reddish, 
or  yellowish  brown.  Strong  bituminous  odour.  C.c:  84  to  86 
carbon,  12  to  14  hydrogen,  aud  a  little  oxygen.  Derbyshire, 
Montrelais  near  Nantes,  aud  Woodbury  in  Connecticut./ 

709.  Asphaltum,  Bitumen. 

Compact  and  disseminated  ;  fractui-e  conchoidal,''Bometimes 
vesicular;  sectile.  H.  —  2;  G. —  1-1  to  1-2.  Opaque,  resinous, 
and  pitch-black;  strong  bituminous  odour,  especially  when  rubbed. 
Takes  iire  easily,  and  burns  with  a  bright  flame  and  thick  smoke. 
Sol  in  ether,  except  a  small  remainder,  which  is  dissolved  in  oil 
of  turpentine.  C.c:  76  to  88  carbon,  2  to  10  oxygen,  6  to  10 
hydrogen,  and  1  to  3  nitrogen.  Limmer  near  Hanover,  Seyssel  on 
the  Rhone,  Val  Travers  in  Neufchatel,  Lobsann  in  Ahsace,  in  the 
Harz,  Dead  Sea,  Persia,  and  Trinidad  ;  Cornwall,  Haughmond  Hill 
(Shropshire),  East  and  West  Lothians,  Elie  and  Burntisland  (Fife). 

710.  Albe:.tite. 

Massive.  Velvet-black.  Adamantine  lustre;  brittleT^s'C.c.: 
carbon  86,  hydrogen  9,  nitrogen  2-9,  oxygen  2.  Hoy,  Orkney; 
Sti-athpefl'er,  Ross  ;  Hillsborough,  New  Brunswick. 

711.  PlACZITE. 

Massive;  imperfect  conchoidal,  sectile."  H.  =1-5;  C.  =  1'22. 
Dimly  translucent  on  very  thin  edges  ;  resinous.  Blackish  brown  ; 
streak  yellowish  brown.  Fuses  at  600°  Fahr.,  and  burns  with  an 
aromatic  odour,  lively  flame,  and  dense  smoke.  Sol.  in  ether  and 
caustic  potash.     Piauze  near  Rudolfswerth  in  Carniola. 

712.  IXOLYTE. 

M.assive  ;  conchoidal  fracture.  H.  —  7;  G.— 1-008.  Resinous. 
Hyacinth-red  ;  streak  ochre-yellow.  Rubbed  between  the  fingers 
it  emits  an  aromatic  odour  ;  becomes  soft  at  119°,  but  is  still 
viscid  at  212°.     Oberhart  near  Gloggnitz  in  Austria, 

713.  AiiBER  {Succinite),  CjoHjO. 

Round  irregular  lumps,  grains,  or  dpps.  Fracture  Twrfect  con- 
choidal;  slightly  brittle.  H.-2to2-5  ;  G.-l  tol-1.  Transparent 
to  translucent  or  almost  opaque;  resinous.  Honey-yellow,  hyacinth- 
red,  brown,  yellowish  white  ;  also  streaked  or  spotted.  When 
rubbed  emits  an  agreeable  odour,  and  becomes  negatively  electilc 
It  melts  at  550°,  emitting  water,  an  empyreumatic  oil,  and.  succinic 
acid  ;  it  burns  with  a  blight  flame  and  pleasant  odour,  leaviug  a 
carbonaceous  remainder  ;  only  a  small  part  is  soluble  iu  alcohoh 
C.c  :  79  c.Ti-bon,  10-5  hydrogen,  and  10*5  oxygen.  Derived  chiefly 
from  an  extinct  coniferous  tree  {Pittites  succini/cr),  and  found 
in  the  Terti.aiy  and  diluvial  formations  of  many  countries,  especially 
northern  Germany  and  shores  of  the  Baltic,  Sicily,  Spain,  and 
northei-n  Italy,  rarely  in  Britain  (on  the  shores  of  Fife,  Norfolk, 
Suffolk,  and  Essex,  and  at  Kensington,  near  London).  Used  for 
ornamental  purposes,  and  for  preparing  succinic  acitl  and  var- 
nishes.    Krantzitc,  from  Nienburg,  is  essentially  the  same. 

714.  Retinite  {Sctinasphalt). 

Roundish  or  irregular  lumps ;  fracture  uneven  or  conchoidal ; 
very  easily  frangible  H. -1-5  to  2  ;  G.-l -05  to  1-15.  Trans- 
lucent or  opaque;  resinous  or  glistening.  Yellow  or  brown.  Melts 
at  a  low  heat,  and  burns  with  an  aromatic  or  bituminous  odour. 
C.c:  in  geuei-al  carbon,  hjdrogcn,  and  oxygen,  in  very  un- 
certain amount.  Bovey,  Halle,  Cape  Sable,  aud  Osnabriick. 
Pyrorctinitc  from  Aussig  in  Bohemia  is  similar. 

715.  Walcuowite,  C^Mfi . 

Rounded  pieces,  with  a  conchoid.il  fracture.  H.  =  1-5  to  2; 
G.-l  035  to  1-009.  Tianslucent,  resinous.  Yellow  with  brown 
stripes,  and  a  yellowish  white  streak.  It  fuses  at  482^,  and  burns 
readily.  Soluble  partially  (7 -5  per  cent. )  in  ether  ;  in  s.  acid  forms 
a  dark-brown  solution.  C.c:  SO-4  carbon,  lO"?  hydi-ogcn,  and 
8-9  0X3-gen.     Walcliow  iu  Sloravia. 

716.  CoPALiXE  {Fcssil  Copal,  Eiohrjalc  Ecsiii),  Cj^HcjO. 
Inegularfragments.    H.  - 1  -5;  C.  - 1  -046.    Traiisliu-cnt,  resinous; 

burns  i\ith  light  yello\\'  flame  and  much  smoke;  alcohol  dissolves 
little  of  it;  becomes  black  iu  suljihuric  acid.  C.c:  85-54  carbon, 
11-63  hydrogen,  2-76  oxygen.  Highgate  near  London.  .V  similar 
resin  from  Settling-Stones  mine  iu  Nortluimberhmd,  found  iu  Hat 
drojis  or  crusts  on  calc-spar,  is  infusible  at  500°  Fahr. ;  G.  —  1  -16  to 
1-54;  it  contains  86-13  carbon,  1085  hydrogen,  aud  3-26  ashes. 

717.  Behexoelite,  CjjHjjOj. 

Amorphous;  conchoidal  fracture.  Dai-k  brown,  inclining  to 
green;  yellow  .■streak.  Resinous;  uupleasaut  odour,  ami  bitter 
tasto.  Fuses  below  212°.  ami  continues  soft  afterwaixls  i>t  oiilinary 
temperatures;  easily  soluble  in  alcoliol.  Co.;  72-40  carbon,  9-y8- 
hydrogen,  18-31  oxygeu.     Sail  Juan  do  Bercngela  in  Peru. 

718.  GrAYAQflLLITE,  C.oH„Oj. 

Amorphous ;  yielding  easily  to  thi:  knife,  and  very  friable.     G. 


M  I  H  E  R  A  L  0  G  Y 


429 


—  I'OOS.  Pale  yellow.  Slightly  resinous.  Fluid  at  21 2^  viscid 
when  cold;  slightly  soluble  in  water,  and  largely  in  alcohol,  forming 
a  yellow  fluid  with  a  bitter  taste.  C.c. :  77*01  carbon,  8*18  hydro- 
gen, and  14*80  oxygen.     Guayaquil  in  South  America. 

Soghutter,  from  the  Irish  peat  mosses,  is  similar  ;  it  melts  at 
124",  is  easily  soluble  in  alcohol,  and  contains  73'70  carbon,  1260 
hydrogen,  and  13*72  oxygen. 

719.  Hartine,  CsoHjd+H. 

Round  masses  or  thin  layers.  Brittle,  but  easily  cut  with  a 
knife.  G,  =  1  '6.  Resinous.  Reddish  brown  by  reflected  and  deep 
red  by  transmitted  light ;  streak  light  brown.  Becomes  black  on 
exposure.  C.c:  86'43  carbon,  8*01  hydrogen,  5'56  oxygen.  In 
the  main  coal  seam  at  Middleton  near  Leeds,  and  at  Newcastle. 

720.  Ozocerite  {Native  Paraffin),  CH . 

Amorphous,  sometimes  fibrous.  Very  soft,  pliable,  and  easily 
fashioned  with  the  fingers.  G.  =0'94  to  0"97.  Glimmering  or 
glistening;  semitransluceut  Yellowish  brown  or  hyacinth-red  by 
transmitted,  dark  leek-green  by  reflected  light.  Strong  paraffin 
or  aromatic  odour ;  fuses  easily  to  a  clear  oily  fluid ;  at  higher 
temperature  burns  with  a  clear  flame,  seldom  leaving  any  ashes  ; 
readily  soluble  in  oil  of  turpentine,  with  great  difficulty  in  alcohol 
or  ether.  C.c:  857  carbon,  and  14'3  hydrogen.  Binny  (Linlith- 
gow), and  Edinburgh  ;  Slanik  and  Zietriska  in  Moldavia,  near 
Gaming  in  Austria,  and  Baku  ;  also  at  Urpeth  coal-mine  near 
Newcastle-ou-Tyne.     PyropUsitc  may  be  a  variety. 

721.  Hatchettine  {Mineral  Tallow). 

Flaky,  like  spermaceti;  or  subgranular,  like  beeswax;  soft  and 
flexible  G.  =0-0.  Translucent;  weak  pearly.  Yellowish  white, 
wax-yellow,  or  greenish  ycllov;.  Greasy  inodorous;  readily  soluble 
in  ether.  C.  c. :  85  91  carbon,  14  "62  hydrogen,  or  similar  to  ozocerite. 
Loch  Fyne  (fusible  at  115°),  Merthyr-Tydvil,  Schaumburg, 

722.  FiCHTELITE,   C4H3. 

Crystalline  (oblir^ue  prismatic)  lamellje,  which  swim  in  water, 
but  sink  in  alcohol.  Wliite  and  pearly.  Fuse  at  114°,  but  again 
become  crystalline  on  cooling.  Very  easily  soluble  in  ether,  and  pre- 
cipitated by  alcohol.  C.c. :  88  '9  carbon  and  11 1  hydrogen.  In  pine 
wood  in  a  peat-moss  near  Redwitz  in  Bavaria. 

723.  Hartite,  CqHjj. 

Anorthic;  but  mostly  like  spermaceti  or  white  wax,  and  lamellar. 
Sectile,  but  not  flexible.  II.  =1;  G. -1-046.  Translucent;  dull 
resinous.  "White.  Melts  at  165",  and  burns  with  much  smoke. 
Very  soluble  in  ether,  much  less  so  in  alcohol.  C.c;  87'8  carbon, 
and  12-2  hydrogen.     Oberhart  in  Austria. 

724.  KoNLiTE,  C^H. 

Crystalline  folia  and  grains.  Soft.  G.  =  0-8S.  Translucent; 
resinous.  "White,  without  smell.  Fuses  at  120°  to  137°.  Sol.  in 
n.  acid;  precipitated  by  water  in  a  white  crystalline  mass.  C.c: 
92  3  carbon,  7*7  hydrogen.     Uznach  near  St  Gall,  Redwitz. 

725.  Scmi;ei:erite,  CHj, 

Oblique  prismatic  ;  tabular  or  acicular.  Soft  and  rather  brittle. 
G.  =  1  to  1"2.  Tran.<;lucent;  resinous  or  adamantine.  White,  in- 
clining to  yellow  or  gi-een.  Feels  greasy,  has  no  taste,  and  when 
cold  no  smell,  but  when  heated  a  weak  aromatic  odour.  Insoluble 
in  water;  readily  sol.  in  alcohol,  ether,  and  n.  and  s.  acids.  C.c: 
75  carbon,  25  hydrogen.  Uznach.  Branchite,  white,  translucent, 
fusing  at  167°,  is  similar;  Montevaso  in  Tuscany, 

726.  Idrialite,  C3H2. 

Massive;  fracture  uneven  0X  slaty;  sectile.  H.  =  1  to  I'S; 
G.  =  l-4  to  1'6  (17  to  3'2).  Opaque;  resinous.  Greyish  or 
brownish  black  ;  streak  blackish  brown,  inclining  to  red.  Feels 
greasy.  Burns  with  a  thick  smoky  flame,  giving  out  sulphurous 
acid,  ami  leaving  some  reddish  brov.n  ashes.  C.c:  77  idrialine 
(  =  94-7  carbon  and  53  hydrogen)  and  18  cinnabar,  with  a  little 
silica,  alumina,  pyrite,  and  lime.  The  idrialitic  may  be  extracted 
by  warm  olive  oil  or  oil  of  turpentine  as  a  pearly  shining  mass, 
difficultly  fusible.     Idria.  I 


727.  TORBANITE. 

Massive  ;  fracture  subconchoidaL  Yellow,  brown-grey,  and  light 
brown.  H.  =  15  to  2;  G.-1-28.  C.c  :  60  to  65  carbon,  9  hydrogen, 
4  to  5  oxygen,  10  to  20  silicate  of  alumina.  When  distilled  below 
redness  yields  a  burning  fluid  holding  paraffin  in  solution  ;  above 
redness  a  large  quantity  of  highly  Uluminating  gas.  Shown  by 
the  microscope  to  consist  of  granules  of  a  yellow  bituminoid  wax, 
vrith  interstitial  shaly  matter.  Torbanehill  iu  Scotland.  Pilsen 
in  Bohemia,  Eurakina  and  Murayevna  in  Russia. 

728.  DOPPLERITE. 

Jelly-like  elastic  masses.  Brownish  black ;  streak  browia.  Greasy 
lustre  H.  =0-5;  G.  =1-1.  After  drying  H.-2-5;  G.  =  1*5.  Insol- 
uble in  alcohol  and  ether.  An  acid  substance  related  to  humic 
acid.     From  peat  beds,  Auasee  (Styria)  and  Switzerland. 

THE  COALS. 

729.  Anthracite  {Glance  Coal). 
Massiveanddisseininated;  rarely  columnar.  Fracture  conchoidal; 

brittle.  H.=2to2-5;  G.  =  1 '4  to  1 7.  Opaque;  brilliant  metallic 
Iron-black;  streak  unaltered.  Perfect  conductor  of  electricity. 
Burns  difficultly  with  a  very  weak  or  no  flame,  and  dots  not  cake  ; 
in  the  closed  tube  yields  a  little  moisture,  but  no  crapyreumatic 
oil ;  detonates  with  nitre.  C.c:  carbon  above  90  per  cent.,  with 
1  to  3  oxygen,  1  to  4  hj'drogen,  and  0  to  3  nitrogen;  and  ashfts 
chiefly  of  silica,  alumina,  lime,  and  peroxide  of  iron.  Common  iu 
some  parts  of  all  coal-fields;  and  especially  in  the  United  States,  as 
in  Rhode  Island,  Massachusetts,  and  above  all  in  Pennsylvania. 
Used  chiefly  for  manufacturing  metals. 

730.  Common  Coal  {Black  Coal,  Stone  or  Mineral  Coal,  Bitu 
minous  Coal). 

Compact,  slaty,  or  confusedly  fibrous;  often  dividing  into  rlioin- 
boidal,  columnar,  or  cubical  fragments.  Fracture  conchoidal,  nii- 
even,  or  fibrous;  rather  brittle  or  sectile.  H.  -=  2  to  2  '5;  G.  =  1  '2  to 
1*5.  Vitreous,  resinous,  or  silky  in  the  fibrous  variety.  Blackish 
brown,  pitch-black,  or  velvet-black.  Burns  easily,  emitting  flamo 
and  smoke,  with  a  bituminous  odour  ;  heated  in  the  closed  tube 
yields  much  oil.  C.c  :  74  to  90  carbon,  with  0*6  to  8  or  15  oxygen, 
3  to  6  hydrogen,  0  to  1  to  2  nitrogen,  O'l  to  3  sulphur,  and  1  to  11 
earthy  matters  or  ash,  in  100  parts. 

Slate  Coal  QvSjilinthns  a.  thick  slaty  structure,  and  an  unevett 
fracture.  Clicrry  Coal  is  the  name  applied  to  the  brittle  highly  lus- 
trous variety  common  in  the  English  coal-fields.  Caking  Coal  is  a 
more  bituminous  variety  which  undergoes  semifusion  when  ignited, 
caking  or  agglutinating  during  combustion.  Cannel  Coal  has  a  resin- 
ous, glimmering  lustre,  and  a  flat-conchoidnl  fracture,  breaks  into 
irregular  cubical  fragments,  but  is  more  solid  and  takes  a  higher 
polish  than  other  varieties.  This  burns  with  a  bright  flame,  and 
yields  much  gas.  Abundant  in  many  lands,  as  in  England,  Scot- 
land, and  Ireland,  in  Belgium  and  France,  in  Germany  and 
southern  Russia.  British  America  and  the  United  States  possess 
ininieuse  fields,  especially  in  the  valley  of  the  Mississippi.  Also 
found  in  China,  Japan,  Hindustan,  Australia,  Borneo,  and  several  of 
the  Indian  islands. 

731.  Lignite  {Jety  Brovm  Coal).  ^ 

Distinctly  vegetable  in  origin, — the  external  form,  and  very  often 
the  internal  woody  structure,  being  preserved.  The  texture  is  com- 
pact, woody,  or  earthy.  Fracture  conchoidal,  woody,  or  uneven  ; 
soft  and  often  friable.  G.  =  0'5  to  1"5.  Lustre  sometimes  resin- 
ous, mostly  glimmering  or  dull.  Brown,  black,  or  rarely  grey. 
Burns  easily  with  an  unpleasant  odour;  colours  solution  of  potash 
deep  brown.  C.c:  47  to  73  carbon,  2-5  to  7-5  hydrogen,  8  to  33 
oxygen  (with  nitrogen),  and  1  to  15  ashes.  Jet  is  pitch-black,  with 
conchoidal  fracture  and  resinous  lustre.  Brown  coal  occurs  at 
Bovey-Tracy  in  Devonshire;  also  in  Germany,  Hungary,  France, 
Italy,  and  Greece.  Tho  Surturbrand  of  Iceland  seems  a  variety. 
Used  as  fuel,  but  much  inferior  to  common  coal.  The  Oolitic 
coals  of  Yorkshire,  Antrim,  Brora,  Mull,  and  Skyc  are  intermedi- 
ate varieties. 


Index  of  Mineral  Species. 


Abiiachnnltc,  £81. 
Acnnfhlte,  170. 
Acmltc,  570. 
Actinolitc.  578. 
Adamite,  410. 
Adlnole,  590. 
Adulnrlii.  5S9. 
vERcrinc,  671. 
>EscIiyiaie,.CS3. 

llllunite.  231. 
Alnbandlnc.  180. 
Alabnsttr,  Sll*. 
Alalitc.  6C7. 
AJbertltc  710. 


Albite.  000. 
Alexondi'ite,  94. 
AlKodon4ie,  192. 
Allanitc,  474. 
Allumontlte,  7. 
Alloclivuitc,  493. 
AUonioniliite,  313. 
AUopiilUdUini,  30. 
AUftiilumc,  Ca9.     ■ 
Almiindine,  493. 
Alstonlte,  283. 
AlUite,  IG3. 


Alu 


.  341. 


Alonogenc,  328. 
Amolgam,  24. 
Amazon  stone,  389. 
Amber.  713. 
Amblyconitc,  450. 
Ainbljstcgitc,  5G5. 
Amethyst,  81,  135. 
Amianthus,     567, 

578. 
Amphlbolc,  673. 
AmvhodcUtc,  591, 
.\na1chnc,  CO-j. 
Anutasc,  9C. 
Anatixito,  C41.  i 

Andulu3itc  4C0. 


Andcsinc,  594. 
AnglcsUc,  31C. 
Anhydi-Uc,  312. 
Aniccritc,  274. 
AnmiborKitc,  338. 
Annerudttc,C82. 
Anntdte,  233. 
Anomitc,  515. 
Anoi-thite.  691. 
Anthoiihyllite,  517. 
Anthracite,  729. 
Ant  Ill-aconite.  272. 
Antigoilte,  5-31. 
AntimonUI  nickel, 
184. 


Antimony,  6. 

Apatclite,  331. 

Apatite,  443. 

Aphi-ite.  272. 

Aphiodire,  545. 
j  Apophyllitc,  C03. 

Aqnam.iriiio.  C3G. 

Arngorita,  281. 

Arcuiiltc,  308. 

Ardcnnite,  C77. 

Arfvcdannite,  579. 

Arscniite.  Ifi9. 

Ark.inaite,  97. 

Aiksutite,  41. 
I  Aiquerite,  23. 


Arsenic,  G. 

ArseniosldcrUe,429. 

Arscnoiite,  123. 

Asbestos,  673. 

Asphaltum,  709. 

Astrukanitc,  337. 

AstrophyUire,  630. 
I  Atncamite,  C9. 

Atopite,  37G. 
1  Augitc,  507. 

Aiii-ichiilcite,  397. 
;  Avaltc.  28. 


:  Ava 


,  135. 


Dabingtonlte,  575* 
liaikalito.  5G7. 
Bni-sovlte,  596. 
Uaryta-mica,  521. 
Barytc,  313. 
Baiyto-calcito,  287. 
Barjto-celestlne, 
-    314. 
Brtstite,  564. 
Btlstiiacslte,  37. 
neaumontite,  614. 
Beauxltc,  112. 
Beegcrite.  iCO. 
Deraunitc.  400. 
Bcrenselite,  717. 


Bergholz,  cr.0. 
Beilhlciinc,  SG 
Berthierlte,  2H' 
Beryl,  5SC       ' 
Berzellnlte.  t6( 
Bcrzelite,  370. 
Beiidintite,  45':. 
Bicberlte,  327. 
Dlnnlte,  221.  ' 
Biotite,  512. 
Blsmltc.  126. 
Bismuth,  8.  ' 
Bismutliine.  209r 
Blsmuthlte,  302. 
I)i8inuto(enlta.C^ 


430 

Blsmnto-spbcrite, 
288. 

Bitt«r-spftr,  373. 

Bitnraen,  708.  709. 

Blelolere.  701. 

Blende,  177. 

Wbdlte,  •337. 

Blomstrandlte,  685. 

Bloodstone.  13&. 

Bodenite,  474. 

BoRbutter,  718. 

Bogo&lovsklte,  492. 

Bole,  655. 

BoUTite,  256. 

BoIo(nieso  stone, 
313. 

BoltoQite,  476. 

BoDsdorflte,  665. 

Boraclte,  262. 

Borax.  266. 

Bomite,  190. 

BorocalcUe,  267. 

Botiyogenc.  347. 

BotryoUte.  470. 

Boulangerite,  227. 

Bounionlte,  230. 

Branchite.  726. 

Brandisite.  524. 

Bi-aunite.  100. 

Bravalsite,  653. 

Breislackite,  567. 

Breithauptite,  184. 
Breiinnerite,  276. 

Brewsterite,  615. 
Brochantite,  334. 
Bromlte,  56. 
Brongniailine,  311. 
Bronzite,  564, 
Brooklte,  97. 
Brown'  coal,  731. 
Brucite,  114. 
Brusblte,  377. 
Bunsenlte,  76. 
Bustamite,  674. 
Byrichritc,  155. 
Byssollte,  678. 
Cncliolong,  137. 
Cacoseno,  402, 
Cainigorm,  135, 


MINERALOGY 


Chirlatite,  ?4S. 
ChUdnlte,  563. 
ChloanUte,  US. 
Chlorite,  631. 
Chi  on  told,  626. 
Chlorocalcite,  63. 
Chloropal,  667. 
ChlorophsElte,  656. 
Cblorophyllite,  585. 
Chlorosplncl,  93. 
Chodnefflte,  43. 
Chondrarseuite, 

395. 
Cbondrodite,  462. 
ChoQlcrite,  535. 
Chrome  ochre,  637. 
Chromite,  69. 
Chrysobeo'.  94. 
ChrysocoUa,  491. 
Chrysolite,  478. 
Chrysopraie,  136. 
Chrysotile,  649 
CimoHte,  638. 
Cinnabar.  193. 
Cinnamon  stOQ6, 


Calai 


,  404. 


272. 
Caledonlte,  850. 
Calomel,  49. 
Cancrinlte,  606. 
Capovcionite,  612. 
Ciubnncle,  493. 
CamaUlte,  62. 
Camat.  631. 
Cjii-nclian,  135. 
Cnrpholite,  65G. 
Carphos(derite,333. 
Cassiterite,  98- 
CasslterotantaUte, 

69  L 
Castor,  S73. 
Cataplelte,  674. 
Cat'a-eye,  135. 
Ciiwk,  313, 
Coladonlte.  660. 
Celestlne,  315. 
Centrolite,  488. 
Cer-ugyrite,  M. 
Cerlno,  474. 
Cerite,  484. 
Cei'usslte,  286. 
Currant  ite.  130. 
Chabastte,  608. 
Clialcaiithtte,  333. 
Chalcedony,  135. 
Chalcolite,  439. 
Chalcomenlte,  257. 
Chalcophanite,  1?2. 
Chalcophylllte,  4G5. 
Chalcopyrite,  189. 
Chalcoslderlto,  430. 
Cbalcotrichlte,  73. 
Chalk,  272. 
Chnlyblte,  277. 
CtiamolBito,  562. 
Chert.  135. 
Cblastolltc,  460. 
Chlldrenfte,  432, 
CliUonlte,  197. 
Chlolite,  42. 


493. 

CipoUlno,  272. 

Clarite,  246. 

ClauBtballte,  161. 

Clay  ironstone,  277. 

Glayfl.  629. 

Clinochlore,  633. 

Clfnoclase,  424: 

Clintonlte,  624. 

Coal3,  729-731. 

Cobaltite,  143. 

Cobaltspath,  279. 

Cobalt  yitilol,  327. 

Coccinlte,  68. 

Coccolite,  567. 

Ccei-nJeolactin,  405. 

Colopbonite,  493. 

Coloradoite,  202. 

Columbite,  693. 

Condunite,  192. 

Connellite,  72. 

Copaline,  716. 
Coplapite,  331. 
Copper,  18. 
Copperas,  324. 
Copper-blende,  238. 
Coqulmblto,  330. 
Cordierite.  686. 
Comwallite,  418. 
Conindophyllitc, 

533. 
Coruodum,  81. 
Cotton- stone,  623. 

lite,  60. 
Corelline,  188, 
Crcdnerite,  102. 
Crichtonite,  83. 
Crocflllte,  622. 
Crocolsite,  355. 
Cronstedtite,  689. 
Crook  eoite,  167. 
Cryolite,  40. 
Cryopbyllfte.  617. 
Cryptollte,  867 
Cuban,  191. 
Cube  ore,  403. 
Cuprite,  73. 
Cuproplumblte, 

159. 
Cyanlte,  461. 
Cymophane,  94. 
Cj-prine,  47i 
Danallte,  497. 
Danburite,  495. 
DarwinttP,  192. 
Datholite.  467. 
Davldsonite,  686. 
Davlnc,  .')06. 
Dechentto.  378. 
DclafoBslte,  73. 
Delessite,  538. 
Demidowlte,  492. 
Ucrmattne,  555. 
Desclolzlte,  414. 
Dladochlte,  454. 
Dialloge,  668. 
Dialogue,  278. 
Diamond,  13. 
Diasporo,  107. 
DIchroile,  685. 
Dlckinsonltc,  892. 


Dletrichite,  3ii. 
Dibyrlte,  419. 

Dimorphlte,  207. 
Dlopslde,  567., 
Dioptase,  490.' 
Dlphanlte,  622. 
Dlpyre,  602. 
Diacraalte,  178. 
Distbene,  461. 
Dolorolte,  273. 
Domeykite,  192. 
Dopplerlte,  728. 
Dufrenlte,  399. 
Dufrenoyiite,  223. 
Duraogite,  451. 
Dysanalyte,  683. 
Dysluite,  91. 
Eedemite,  458. 
Edingtonite,  620. 
Eblite,  421. 
Eiaennlckelkles, 

182. 
Elteolite,  606. 
Elaterite,  708. 
Electnim,  25. 
Eleonorite,  40L 

lite,  113. 
Embollte,  65. 
Embrethite.  227. 
Emerald,  81,  586. 
Emerald- nick  el 

298. 
Emery.  81. 
Emmonite,  284. 
Emplectite,  216. 
Enargite,  245. 
Enstatite,  563. 
EosUe,  359. 
Eosphorlte,  433, 
Eplboulangerlte, 


250. 

Epichlorite,  533. 

Epldote,  473. 

Epigenlte,  249. 

Epistilbite,  613. 

Epaomite,  321. 

Erinite.  418. 

Eritbrosiderite,  65. 

Eiythrite,  386. 

Esmarkite,  585 

Euchroito,  417. 

Euclase,  46S. 

Eucraslte,  643. 

Eodialite,  673. 

Endnophite,  606. 

Eukairite,  168. 

EukoUte,  673. 

Eulyline,  498. 

Euphylllte,  623. 

Euscnite,  687. 

Eransite,  406. 

ETlgtoklte,  47. 

Fahlerz,  237. 

Fahlunite,  535. 

Fairfleldite,  894. 

Famatinite,  247. 

Fargite,  623. 

Faroellte,  626. 

Faesalte,  667. 

Faujasite,  607 

Fayalite,  477. 

Fellnite,  656. 

FelBubanylte,  329. 

Felspars.  680-697. 

FCrberitc,  364. 

FerguBonlte,  695. 

Ferrotltanitc,  670. 

Felbol,  655. 

Flbroferrite,  331. 

Flchtellte.  722. 

FlUowltc,  390. 

Fiorite,  137. 

Flre-blendc,  252. 

FIseherlte,  407, 

Flint,  135, 

FlueHltc,  39. 

Flaocerine,  36. 

Fluocerite,  35. 
Fluorlte,  Ouorispar, 

33. 
Forchhammei'lte, 

C57, 
Forccltc,  621. 
Forsterite,  476. 
Fowlerite,  674. 
Fnnkllnltc,  6&       I 


Frenzelite,*210 
Friedelite,  628. 
Frleselte,  186. 
Frieslebenlte,  22t. 
Fuchtte,  619. 
Fuller's  earth,  632. 
OadoHnite,  471. 
Gahnlte.  91. 
Galactite,  623. 
Galena,  163. 
Galmei,  485. 
Garnet,  493.. 
Gaylussite.  392. 
Gearksutite,  46. 
Gehlenite,  504. 
Gelbeisenerz,  346. 

itc,  241. 
Geradorflate,  147. 
Glbbaite,  116. 
Gleseckite,  585, 

650, 
Gigantolite,  585. 
GUbertite,  619. 
Giobcrtlte,  276, 
Girasol,  187. 
Gismondlne,  624. 
Glagerite,  633. 
Glaserite.  308. 
Giauberite,  311. 
Glaucodote,  144. 
Glauconite,  659. 
Glaucophi 
Gmelinlte,  609. 
Gold,  25. 
Goslarite,  822. 
Gbthite,  108. 
Grammatite,  578. 
Graphic  granite, 


562 


589. 
Graphite,  14. 
Greenockite,  179. 
Green 07 it e,  668. 
Gmnauite,  154. 
Grunerlte,  634. 
Guanajuatlte,  201. 
Guayaquillite,  718. 
Guejarlte,  211. 
Gummite,  120, 
Gymnite,  647. 
Gj-psum,  319. 
GyroUte,  60J. 
Hsematite,  62. 
Hal dingc rite,  379. 
Ralr-salt,  328. 
Halite,  51. 
Halloysite,  632. 
Hamartite,  38. 
Harmotome,  617. 
Hartlne,  719. 
Hartite,  723. 
Hatchettlne,  721. 
Hfitchettollte,  699. 
Haaerite,  150. 
Haugbtonite,  G13. 
Hausmannite,  99. 
Hauyne,  610. 
Haydenlte,  608. 
Haytorite,  467. 
Heliotrope,  135. 
Helvlne.  496. 
Hepatite,  813 
Hereynlte,  92. 
Herderitc,  452. 
Hcrmannlte,  583. 
Herrengrundlte, 

848. 
Herachellte,  611. 
Hessite,  174. 
Heterozlte.  391. 
Hculandite,  614. 
Hisingeritc,  659. 
Ilislopite,  272. 
Iljelmite,  696. 
Ilomilite,  469. 
Hopclte,  409. 
Horbachltc,  156. 
Ilomblcnd 
Hymeaite.  383. 
Homstone,  135, 

569. 
HUbnerlte,  366. 
Iludsonite,  667. 
Humboldt  11  Itc,  5 
Hnmlte,  482. 
HurcftulHe,  391, 
Huronlte,  535. 


57S. 


Hyacinth,.  138. 
Hyalite.  137. 
Hyalophanc,  595. 
Hyalosiderite,  478. 
Hydrarglllite,  116. 
Hydroboraclte,  270. 
Hydroraagnesite, 

293. 
Hydrophane,  137. 
Hydrophite,  652. 
Hydrotaldtc,  118. 
Hydrozlncite.  296 
HygrophUite,  652. 
Hypersthene,  6C5. 
Hypochlorite,  667. 
HypostUbite,  612. 
Hypoxanthite,  661 
Ice,  74. 

Iceland  Bpar,  272. 
Ice-spar,  689. 
Ichthyophthalmlte, 

603. 
Idocraae,  47S. 
IdriaUte,  726. 
Ilmenfte,  83. 
IndicoUte,  iCG. 
Inverarite,  182. 
lodlte,  57. 
Jollte,  585. 
Iridium,  28. 
Irldosmluia,  82. 
I  rite,  89. 
Iron,  16. 
Iserine,64. 
Ixolyte,  71?. 
Jacobsite,  87. 
Jade,  678. 
JadeUe,  597. 
Jalpalte.  171. 
Jamesonlte,  222, 
Jaroslte,  844. 
Jasper,  135. 
JeO'ersonite,  569. 
Jet,  731. 
Johannlte,  336. 
Jordanltc,  236. 
Joselte,  12. 
Jullanite,  234. 
Kaiuite,  352. 
Kiimmererite,  632. 
Kaolin,  629. 
Karelinlte,  255. 
Karstenlte,  312. 
Keilhauite,  669. 
Kermesite,  253. 
Kicaerite.  320. 
Kllbrickenite,  242. 
Killinitc,  672,  651. 
Kirwanito,  558. 
Klaprothite,  220. 
Kllpsteintte,  662. 
KncbeUlte,  4S0. 
Eobaltbescbtag, 

366. 
KobeUlte,  228. 
KoUyritc,  634. 
Komarit,  664, 
Kong^bergite,  23. 
Konlgine,  335. 
KiinUte,  724. 
Koppite,  631. 
Kotschubeyite,  M3. 
Kottlgite,  387. 
Krantzite,  713. 
Kranrite,  399. 
Krelttonltc,  91. 
Kremerslte,  64. 
Krlsuvigtte,  334. 
KrokidoUte.  6S1. 
Euhnlfe,  370. 
Kupfcrblau,  492. 
Kyroslte,  140. 
Labradoiitc,  593. 
L&narkite,  317. 
Langlte,  835. 

ithanlte,  303. 
Lapls-lazull,  611. 
Laalonifo,  405. 
Latrobite,  591. 
Laumontltc,  618. 
Laurite,  204. 
Lautitc,  172. 
Lavcndulan,  386. 
Lazulitr,  431. 

Load'hUlite,  S06. 


Leadspar,  286. 

Lebcrkles,  140. 

Leellte,  689. 

Lenzinltc.  632. 

LeoobarUlte.  612. 

Lepldolite.  618. 

Lepldomelane,  514. 

Lepolite.  691. 

Lerbachite,  200. 

Lettsomlte,  iJ51. 

Leuchtenbergite, 
632. 

Leuclte,  505. 

Leucophane,  687. 

Leucopyrite,  142. 

Levyne,  610. 

Lherzollte,  667, 

Libethenlte,  411. 

Liebenerlto,  649. 

Liebigitc,  301. 

Llcvrite,  483. 

Lignite,  731. 

Lime-mica,  622. 

Limestone,  272. 

Limnlte,  117. 

Limonite,  110. 

Linarite,  349. 

Lindakerito,  299, 

Linnjeitc,  152. 

Liroconite,  43i 

Lithiophlllte,  369. 

Lithomarge,  631. 

Llthofylon,  137. 

Loam,  629. 

Loweite,  338. 
Luclissapphlr,  683. 
Lacuilite.  272. 
Lttdlamite,  389. 
Lndwiglte.  265. 
Lnmachello,  272. 
Liinoburgite,  467. 
Lunnite,  423. 
Luzonite,  246. 
Lydian  stone,  135. 
Magnesia-mica, 

612. 
Magncsio-ferrite, 

86. 
Magnesite,  275. 
Magnetite,  85. 
MagnoUtc,  354. 
Malachite,  295. 
Malacoiite,  567. 
Malacone,  642. 
Maldonite,  106. 
MalJardite,  326. 
Malthazlte,  633. 
Manganese,  red, 

278. 
Manganese -spar, 


Mica,  512, 

Microcline,  689. 
Microlito,  684. 
MlcroBommlte,  607. 
Miemlte,  273. 
Mllarite,  673. 

MiUerite,  181. 

Mlloacbln,  635. 

Mlmeteslte,  446. 

Minium.  104. 

MirabUlte,  318. 

Mlspickel,  141. 

Misy,  33  L 

Mlxite,  425. 

Mizzonite,  50L 

Molybdenite,  203 

Molybditc,  127. 

Molysite,  61. 

Monazite,  368. 

Monradite,  543. 

Montanlte.  353. 

Montebrasite,  450, 

Monticellite,  481, 

Montmoriilonite, 
636. 

Moonstone,  563, 

Morcnositc,  323. 

Morion,  135, 

Morocochite,  213. 

Morvenlts,  617. 

Mosandrite,  672. 

Moss-agate,  135. 

Uottramite,  420. 
Murchlsonite,  589, 
Muriaclte,  312. 
Muscovite,  519. 
MuEsite,  567. 
MyeUn,  681. 
Nacrite,  630. 
Nadorite.  762. 
Nagyaglte,  195. 
Naphtha,  707. 
Natrolite,  622.- 
Natron,  290. 
Naumannite,  173. 
Needle-ore,  231. 
Nemalite,  114. 
Ncpheline,  506. 
Nephrite,  578. 
Newberyite,  378. 
Newjanskite,  31. 
Nickel,  at  seulate  of, 

37L 
Nickelerz,  372. 
^'lckelite,  183. 
Nltratlne.  268. 
Nitre,  259. 
Nltrocalcite,  26a 
Nitromagnesite, 


285. 
Marble,  27J. 
Uarcasite,  140. 
Marcelinc,  100, 
Margarite,  622. 
Margarodlta,  619. 
Mari,  272. 
MarmoUte,  560. 
Martite,  82. 
Mascagnlne,  309. 
Masonite,  527. 
Massicot,  75, 
Matlocklte.  66. 
Maxite,  306. 
Mcorachauni,  644, 
Megabasite,  360. 
Melonltc,  600. 
Mclaconlte,  79. 
MclanitO,  493. 
Melantcritc,  33«. 
Meltnophanc,  668. 
Molllllte,  503. 
MeUite,  704. 
Melonlto,  193. 
Melopsite,  631. 
Mcndlpltc,  67, 
Moncgblnltc,  335- 
Mcngltc,  690. 
MenUlte,  137. 
Mercury,  20. 
Mcaolltc,  623, 
Meteoric  iron,  16. 
Mlargyrlte,  212. 


261. 
Nohllte.  698. 
Nontronite,  657. 
Kosean,  509. 
Ocbran,  665. 
<Erstedlt«,  675. 
Okenlte,  602. 
Ollgoclase,  592. 
OllTenile,  412, 
OliTiDC,  478. 
Oncosin,  648. 
Oolite,  272. 
Ooslte,  585. 
Opal,  136. 137. 
Orangite,  €45. 
Orpimcnt,  206. 
Orthite,  474. 
Orthoclase,  539. 
Osmirldium,81. 
Oltrclite,  528. 
OxaJitc.  TOO. 
Oihavecrite,  C03. 
Ozocerite,  720. 
Pachnollte,  44. 
Paisbergite.  574. 
ralladium,  29. 
Paraffin,  720. 
Puragonlte,  520. 
Pargasite,  576. 
Parlsito,  305. 
Paulitc,  665. 
Pcctolite,  698. 
Pcganite,  408. 
Pel  lorn,  685, 
Pennine,  532. 
Pcntlandite,  181 
PercyUte,  71. 


Periclase,  75, 
Pcricline,  69a 
Peridote.  47a  1 

PerovBklte,  6801 

Petal  Ite,  573. 

Petroleum,  707. 

Petuntze,  589.' 

Pctilte,  176. 

PhacoUte,  608. 

Pharmacolite,  361. 

Pharmacoalderite; 
403. 

Phenacite,  469. 

PhiUipsit*,  616. 

Phlogoplte,  616. 

Phoonico-chrOitei 
356. 

Phosgenite,  804. 

Phosph  orochalclte, 
423. 

Piauzlte,  711. 
Pickering! te,  34 L 
Picotlte,  93. 
Picrolite,  649. 
Picrophyll,  541. 
Picrosmlne,  £42. 
Plcdmontite,  473. 
PUoHte,  580. 
Pimelite,  548. 
Pinguite,  C58. 
Pinite,  685. 
Pinltoid,  654. 
PlsoUte,  2''2. 
Pissophanc,  332. 
Pitch  blende,  90. 
Pitticite,  455. 
Plagiooite,  219, 
Plasma,  1S5. 
Platinlridinui,  27. 
Platinum,  26. 
PlattnTrite,  103L 
Pleonaste,  93. 
Plinth!  tc,  655. 
Plombgomrae,  442. 
Plumbocalcite,  27i 
PlumboEtib,  £27. 
Pollux,  606. 
Polyargj-ritc,  244 
Polybasitc,  243. 
Polycrase,  686, 
Polydymlte,  154 
Polyhalile,-840. 
Polyhydrite,  659. 
Polyipignite.  689L 
Polytelite,  239. 
Porcelain    earth, 
629. 


Prase,  135. 
Praseolite,  685. 
Prchnite,  627, 
Prosoplte,  48. 
ProuaUte,  226: 
Psilomelane,  121» 
PBlllaclnite,  374. 
Pucheritc,  375. 
Puffierife,  619. 
Pycnlte,  463. 
Pycnotrop,  536L 
Pyrallolite,  554. 
PyrargillUc,  5S5. 
Pyrargyrlte,  225. 
P.\  rite,     139,     140, 

151,  186,  189. 
Pyroaurite,  119, 
Pyrochlore,  684. 
P)Tochrolto,  lis. 
Pyrolusitc,  101. 
Pyromorphltc-444. 
I'yrope,  493. 
PyrophylUte,  640. 
Pyrophysalite,  463. 
Pyropissite,  720. 
Pyrorclinlto,  714. 
Pyrorthltc,  474. 
Pyroscleritc,  534. 
PyrosmalKc,  629. 
PyroBtilpnlte,  252. 
Pyrc'xcno,  657. 
Pyrrhile,  684, 
Pyrrhotlto,  15L 
Quartz,  135. 
RammcUberglte, 

149. 
lUzoom  oITskln,  637 


M I N— M I N 


431 


Realgar,  20£. 
Reildlngite,  396. 
IMlle,  83. 
RMlnulUtc,  1C4. 
Reinite,  3S3. 
Rclnlts,  (13. 
R«ins,  707-138. 
Reunite,  714. 
Rensalne,  337. 
RlutlUe,  as. 
Rhodlzlle,  364. 
Rhodochrome,  633. 
Rhodonite,  S74. 
Rlpldolitc,  633. 
RLIUiigerite.  187. 
RiTotite,  703. 
Rock-crystal,  135. 
Bock-salt,  61. 
Rock  soap,  655. 
Romaozowite,  483. 
Romelte,  700. 
RoscocUtc  678. 
Rosellte,  380. 
Rothofflte,  493. 
Riittlslle,  6S4. 
Rubellan,  613: 
KubeUIte,  46& 
RuUcella,  93. 
Kuby,  81,  93. 
RntUe,  95. 
Sahllte,  6«7. 
Salmlac,  62. 
Salt,  SL 
Saltpetre,  259. 
Samarskite,  697. 
Sandliergente,  631. 


!saIlilUn^  589. 
Saponlte,  548. 
Sapphire,  81. 
Sapphire     d'eau, 

685. 
Sapphlrtne,  93. 
Sapphidte,  465. 
SarcoUtc,  490. 
SartoHte,  214. 
SassoUne,  105. 
Satin-spar,  28L 
Satissurite,  597. 
Savon  da  verrler, 

lOL 
Saynite,  154. 
ScapoUte,  502. 
Scarbroite,  634. 
Scheelite,  361. 
Scheererite,  735. 
Schiller  spar,  564. 
ScMrmerite,  330. 
Schneebergite,  700. 
Schnelderlte,  33: 
Schorl,  466. 
Schorlomite,  670. 
Schwartzember- 

gite,  68. 
Scoledto,  633. 
Scorodite,  397 
Selenite,  319. 
Selenium,  3. 
Selensulphnr,  3. 
Senarmontlte,  134. 
Serpentine,  549, 
Shale,  629. 
Siderite,  135,  277. 


SldenMchlsolite, 

539. 
Siderostlidte,  661. 
Siesenite,  16i. 
SiUimanlte,  462: 
SUvcr,  31. 
Sinter,  137. 
Slsserskite,  33. 
Skntte'rndite,  157. 
SUtc  cUy,  629. 
Slate  spar,  373. 
Smaltine;  145. 
Smlklte,  325. 
Smlthsonite,  380. 
Soda-chabasite, 

609. 
Sodalite,  608. 
Soda-mica,  530. 
Spadaite,  646. 
Spar,  heary.  313. 
Spathiopyrlt' 


165. 


143. 


Sphe 
Spinel,  93. 
Spodomene,  571 
Stanolte,  185. 
Stasstm-tite,  263. 
Staorolite,  464. 
Steatite,  540. 
Steinhellite,  585. 
'tephanlte,  240. 
Stemberglte,  186. 
Slibiconite,  ISO' 
Stibnite,  203. 
Stilbile,  618. 
Stilpnomelane,  661. 
jStolpenlte,  655. 


Stolzile,  362. 
Strahlstein,  578. 
Strengite,  398. 
Stromeyeritc, 
Strontianitt  384. 
StniYite,  423. 
Studerite,  333. 
Stylotyp,  332. 
Succinite,  713. 
Sulphur,  1. 
Sunstone,  593. 
Surturbrand,  731. 
Susannlte,  307. 
Sussexite,  271. 
Svanbergite,  463. 
SyWanlte,  194. 
SylTltB,  60. 
Sympleaite,  385. 
Syngenlte,  339. 
Szaboite,  576. 
Szaibelylte,  269. 
Tabergite,  632. 
Tabular  spar,  666. 
Tachhydrite,  63. 
Tagilile,  416. 
Talc,  540. 
Talcosite,  640. 
TalUngile,  70. 
Tantalic  ochre,  134. 
Tantalite,  691. 
Tapiohte,  692. 
Telluric  bismuth,  9. 
Telluric  Iron,  16. 
TeUnrlte,  133. 
Tellurium,  4;  blacli. 
I      195;  graphic,194. 


Tennantlte,  238L 
Tenorite,  80. 
Tephroite,  479, 
Tetradymite,  10. 
Tctrahedrite,  237. 
Tharandite,  273. 
Thenardite,  310. 
Thermonatrlte,  289. 
Thomsenolite,  45. 
Thorasonlte,  626. 
Thorite,  644. 
Thraulite,  659. 
Thrombolite,  703. 
Thulite,  472. 
Thuringtte.  537. 
Tiemannlte,  199. 
Tilkerodite,  161. 
Tin,   15;    ores    of, 

98. 
Tinder-ore,  129. 
Tinkal,  266. 
Titaoomorpbite, 

679. 
Tobennorite,  601. 
Tocomadite,  59. 
Topaz,  81.  463. 
Torbanite,  737. 
Tourmaline,  466. 
Travertlno.  272. 
TremoUte,  578. 
Tnclaslte,  585. 
Tridymite,  136. 
Triphylite,  369. 
Triplite,  448. 
Trlploidite,  393. 
Tripnkeite,  469. 


[Trltomite,  646. 
TrOgertte,  437. 
Trona.  291. 
Troostile,  487. 
Tschewkinile,  671. 
Tufa,  272. 
TnngsUte.  128. 
Turgite.  106. 
Tumerite,  308. 
Turquoise,  404 
Tyrile,  695. 
Tyrolite,  423. 
Ulexlte,  368. 
UUmannlle,  148. 
Umber,  661. 
Uranlnile,  90. 
Uranite,  436. 
Uranociicite,  433. 
Uranophane,  6G5. 
Uranospinite,  437. 
Uraootantalite,  697. 
Cranothorite,  644. 
Cranotile,  666. 
Uran-Titriol,  336. 
Urao,  291. 
tJrusitc,  346. 
Uwarowlte,  493. 
Valentinelte,  125. 
'anadine-bronzite, 
568. 
Vanadinfte,  445. 
Variscite,  406. 
Varriclte,  101. 
Vauquelinite,  357. 
Venus'  hair,  95. 
VeazelyUe,  413. 


VilUnUa,SM. 
Vitriol,  green,  324  ; 

red,  347;    white, 

333. 
Vitriol  ochre,  33L 
Virlaolt^  384. 
Voglite.  300. 
Volborthlte,  416. 
Volgerite,  131. 
Volulte,  342. 
Voltxine,  254. 
Vulplnite,  312. 
Wad,  121. 
Wagnerite,  447. 
Walchowite,  715. 
Walkerite,  599. 
Walpurgite,  441. 
Wapplerlte,  382. 
Warringtonite,  335. 
Washingtonltc,  83. 
Water.  74. 
Wavellite,  405. 
Websterite,  339. 
Wehrlite,  11. 
Weissgiltigerz,  339. 
Weisaite,  685. 
Whewelllte,  706. 
Whitneyite,  193. 
Willemlte,  486. 
Wiserlne,  366. 
Withamite,  473. 
Witherite,  382. 
Wittlchenile,  239. 
Wohlerite,  678. 
Wiilcblte,  230. 
WoUnmUe,  364. 


WoUiberglte,  217. 
Wolkontkoitc,  663. 
Wollastonitc,  566. 
Woodwardite,  351. . 
Wnlfanite,  358. 
Wurtzite,  178. 
Xanthocon,  251. 
Xanthoiite,  464. 
Xanthophyilite, 

525. 
Xanthosiderltc, 


IIL 

Xenotlme,  366. 

XunotlUe,  600. 

Xylite,  660. 

Yellow  earth,  665. 

Tttroccrite,  34. 

enite,  697.- 

Tttrotantalite,  694. 

I'ttrotitanite,  669. 

Yn.  C27. 

ZaraUte,  396. 

Zeagonite,  625. 

ZeoUtes,  598-626. 

Zepharovicbite,  406. . 

Zeunerite,  440. 

Zinc,  17. 

Zlndte,  77. 

Zinckenlte,  215. 
I  Zinnxraldite,  517 
I  Zircon,  138. 
1  Zoisite,  472. 

Zorgite,  162. 
'  Zundererz,  132; 
I  Ziriesellte,  449. 
I  (3t  F.  H.) 


MINERAL  WATERS.  No  absolute  line  of  demarca- 
tion can  be  drawn  between  ordinary  and  mineral  waters. 
There  is  usually  in  the  latter  an  excess  of  mineral  con- 
stituents or  of  temperature,  but  some  drinking  waters 
contain  more  mineral  constituents  than  others  that 
are  called  mineral  waters,  and  many  very  pure  waters, 
both  cold  and  warm,  have  been  regarded  for  ages  as 
mineral  springs. 

As  to  the  origin  of  mineral  waters,  there  is  much  in 
what  the  elder  Pliny  said,  that  waters  are  such  as  the  soil 
through  which  they  flow.  Thus  in  limestone  and  chalk 
districts  an  excess  of  lime  is  usually  present;  and  the 
waters  of  a  particular  district  have  much  resemblance  to 
each  other — as  in  the  Eifel,  in  Auvergne,  and  in  the 
Pyrenees.  But  this  is  only  a  partial  explanation,  for 
waters  are  by  no  means  necessarily  uniform  throughout  a 
particular  geological  formation.  We  do  not  know  with 
any  certainty  the  depth  from  which  various  mineral  waters 
proceed,  nor  the  various  distances  from  the  surface  at 
which  they  take  up  their  different  mineral  constituents. 

The  source  of  the  temperature  of  thermal  waters  remains 
a  subject  of  much  uncertainty.  Among  the  assigned  causes 
are  the  internal  heat  of  the  globe,  or  the  development  of 
heat  by  chemical  or  electrical  agencies  in  the  strata  through 
which  they  arise. 

Their  occasional  intermittence  is  doubtless  often  depend- 
ent on  the  periodical  generation  of  steam,  as  in  the  case 
of  the  Geysers.  A  few  geological  facts  are  certain,  which 
bear  on  the  origin  of  mineral  waters.  Such  springs  are 
most  abundant  in  volcanic  districts,  where  many  salts  of 
soda  and  much  carbonic  acid  are  present.  They  occur  most 
frequently  at  meetings  of  stratified  with  unstratified  rocks, 
in  saddles,  and  at  points  where  there  has  been  dislocation 
of  strata. 

The  diffusion  of  mineral  waters  is  very  extended.  Pliny 
was  quite  correct  in  observing  that  they  are  to  be  found 
on  alpine  hrights  and  arising  from  the  bottom  of  the 
ocean.  They  are  found  at  the  snow  in  the  Himalayas  and 
they  rise  from  the  sea  at  Baiae  and  Ischia.  They  are  to  be' 
found  in  all  quarters  of  the  globe,  but  more  particularly 
in  volcanic  regions,  as  in  the  Eifel  and  Auvergne,  in  the 
Bay  of  Naples,  and  parts   of   Greece,  in   Iceland,   New 


Zealand,  and  Japan.  But  there  are  few  countries  in  which- 
they  are  not  to  be  found,  except  in  very  flat  ones  and  in 
deltas  of  rivers, — for  instance,  in  the  north  of  France,  where 
they  are  very  few,  and  in  Holland,  from  which  they  are  ab- 
sent. France,  Germany,  Italy,  and  Spain,  as  well  as  Greece, 
Asia  ilinor,  and  the  Caucasus,  are  all  rich  in  mineral  waters.. 
The  British  Isles  have  a  fair  though  not  very  large  pro- 
portion of  them.  There  are  a  few  in  Sweden  and  Norway. 
They  are  abundant  in  the  United  States,  less  so  in  Canada. 
They  are  found  in  the  Azores  and  in  the  West  India. 
Islands.  Of  their  occurrence  in  the  interior  of  Africa  or 
of  Australia  we  know  little ;  and  the  same  is  true  of  South 
America.  But  they  are  met  with  in  Algiers,  in  Egypt,  and 
in  the  Holy  Land.  The  vast  Indian  peninsula  has  for  its 
size  a  comparatively  ^lall  supply. 

As  the  effects  of  mineral  waters  on  the  bodily  system, 
have  been  found  to  be  different  from  those  of  drinking 
waters,  an  explanation  of  this  has  been  naturally  sought 
for.  It  has  been  imagined  that  there  is  something  special, 
in  the  nature  of  mineral  waters,  that  their  heat  is  not 
ordinary  heat,  that  their  condition  is  a  peculiar  electric 
one.  Some  French  modern  writers  even  say  that  they  have 
a  certain  life  in  them,  that  their  constitution  is  analogous 
to  that  of  the  serum  of  the  blood.  But  we  must  pass  by 
these  speculations,  and  be  guided  as  far  as  possible  by  ascer- 
tained facts,  respecting  the  action  on  the  system  of  water, 
of  heat  and  cold,  and  of  the  mineral  constituents  present. 

Mineral  waters,  when  analysed,  are  found  to  contain  a 
great  many  substances,  although  some  of  them  occur  only 
in  very  minute  quantities :  —  soda,  magnesia,  calcium, 
potash,  alumina,  iron,  boron,  iodine,  bromine,  arsenic, 
lithium,  caesium,  rubidium,  fluorine,  barium,  copper,  zinc, 
manganese,  strontium,  silica,  phosphorus,  besides  extractive 
matters,  and  various  organic  deposits  known  under  the 
name  of  glairin  or  baregin.  Of  gases,  there  have  been 
found  carbonic  acid,  hydrosulphuric  acid,  nitrogen,  hydro- 
gen, oxygen,  and  ammonia.  Of  all  these  by  far  the  most 
important  4n  a  therapeutic  point  of  view  are  sodium, 
magnesia,  and  iron,  carbonic  acid,  sulphur,  and  perhaps 
hydrosulphuric  acid.  These  substances,  detected  separately 
by  chemists,  are  in  their  analyses  combined  by  them  into 
various  salts,  if  not  with  absolute  certainty,  undoubtedly 


432 


wi'.h  a  close  approximation  to  it.  Those  combinations  are 
vc;y  numerous,  and  some  waters  contain  ten  to  twenty  of 
til' in;  but  there  are  always  some  predominating  ones, 
wl'ich  mark  their  character,  while  many  of  them,  such  as 
c:  jium,  rubidium,  or  fluorine,  occur  in  mere  traces,  and 
c;i!i  not  be  assumed  to  be  of  any  real  importance.  Mineral 
waters  therefore  resolve  themselves  into  weaker  or  stronger 
solutions  of  salts  and  gases  in  water  of  higher  or  lower 
temperature.  For  medical  purposes  they  are  used  either 
externally  or  internally,  for  bathing  or  for  drinking.  As 
the  quantity  of  salts  present  commonly  bears  but  a  very 
small  proportion  to  that  of  the  fluid  containing  them, 
water  becomes  a  very  influential  agent  in  mineral-water 
treatment,  about  which  it  is  therefore  necessary  to  say 
something. 

Tor  the  action  of  hot  and  cold  baths  the  reader  is  referred 
to  ihe  article  Baths.  But  it  may  be  observed  here  that, 
according  to  the  most  generally  received  opinion,  the  cuta- 
nooiis  surface  does  not  absorb  any  portion  of  the  salts  in  a 
mineral-water  bath,  although  it  may  absorb  a  little  gas 
(an  alkaline  water,  for  instance,  at  most  acting  as  a  slight 
dftergent  on  the  skin),  and  that  neither  salts  nor  gases 
have  any  action  on  the  system,  except  as  stimulants  of  the 
E!cin,  with  partial  action  on  the  respiratory  organs. 

It  seems  to  be  ascertained  that  drinking  considerable 
amounts  of  cold  water  reduces  the  temperatiu'e  of  the  body, 
diminishes  the  frequency  of  the  pulse,  and  increases  the 
blood  pressure  temporarily.  Water  when  introduced 
inlo  the  stomach,  especially  if  it  be  empty,  is  quickly 
absorbed  ;  but,  although  much  of  the  water  passes  into  the 
veins,  there  is  no  proof  that  it  ever  produces  in  them,  as  is 
Bomclimes  supposed,  a  state  of  fluidity  or  wateriness. 
Therapeutically,  the  imbibition  of  large  quantities  of  water 
leads  to  a  sort  of  general  washing  out  of  the  organs.  This 
produces  a  temporary  increase  of  certain  excretions, 
augmented  diuresis,  and  a  quantitative  increase  of  urea, 
of  chloride  of  sodimn,  and  of  phosphoric  and  sulphuric 
acids  in  the  urine.  Both  the  sensible  and  the  insensible 
perspirations  are  augmented.  A  draught  of  cold  water 
undoubtedly  stimulates  the  peristaltic  action  of  the 
intestines.  On  the  whole  water  slightly  warm  is  best 
borne  by  the  stomach,  and  is  more  easily  absorbed  by  it 
than  cold  vrater ;  and  warm  waters  are  more  useful  than 
cold  ones  v/hen  there  is  much  gastric  irritability. 

In  addition  to  the  therapeutic  action  of  mineral  waters, 
there  are  certain  very  important  subsidiary  considerations 
which  must  not  bo  overlooked.  An  individual  who  goes 
from  home  to  drink  them  finds  himself  in  a  different 
climate,  with  possibly  a  considerable  change  in  altitude. 
His  diet  is  necessarily  altered,  and  his  usual  home  drinks  are 
given  up.  There  is  change  in  the  hours  of  going  to  bed  and 
of  rising.  He  is  relieved  from  the  routine  of  usual  duties, 
and  thrown  into  new  and  probably  cheerful  society.  Ho 
takes  more  exercise  than  when  at  home,  and  is  more  in  the 
open  air,  and  this  probably  at  the  best  season  of  the  year. 
So  important  has  this  matter  of  season  and  climate  been 
found  that  it  is  an  established  axiom  that  waters  can  be 
used  to  the  greatest  advantage  during  the  summer  months 
and  in  fine  weather,  and  during  the  periods  most  convenient 
for  relaxation  from  bu.siness.  Summer  is  therefore  the  bath 
season,  but  of  late  years  provision  has  been  made  in  many 
places,  with  the  aid  of  specially  constructed  rooms  and 
passages,  for  carrying  out  cures  satisfactorily  during  the 
winter  season,  e.</.,  at  Aix-la-Chapelle,  Wiesbaden,  Baden 
Baden,  Baden  in  Switzerland,  Dax,  Vichy,  and  Bath.  The 
ordinary  bath  season  extends  from  the  15th  of  May  to  the 
20th  or  30th  September.  The  season  for  baths  situated 
at  considerable  elevations  commences  a  month  later  and 
terminates  some  ten  days  earlier.  Mineral  waters  may  be 
Sjnployed  at  home,  but  patients  seldom  bo  use  them ;  and 


MINE  E  A  L      VV';  A  T  E  E  S 


this  necessarily  limits  the  time  of  their  useT'  It  is  commoa 
to  declare  that  the  treatment  should  last  for  such  or  such 
a  period.  But  the  length  of  time  for  which  any  remedy  is 
to  be  used  must  depend  on  its  effect,  and  on  the  nature  of 
the  particular  case.  It  is  found,  however,  that  the  con- 
tinued use  of  mineral  waters  leads  to  certain  disturbances 
of  the  system,  which  have  been  called  crises,  such  as  sleep- 
lessness, colics,  and  diarrhcea,  and  to  skin  eruptions  known 
as  la  poussee. '  This  cause,  and  also  certain  peculiarities  of 
the  female  constitution,  have  led  to  the  period  of  three 
weeks  to  a  month  being  considered  the  usual  period  for 
treatment.  A  certain  after-treatment  is  often  prescribed 
— such  as  persistence  in  a  particular  diet,  visiting  springs 
or  climates  of  a  different  and  usually  of  a  tonic  character, 
or  continuing  for  a  certain  time  to  drink  the  waters  at 
home.  It  may  be  added  that  the  advantage  of  having 
recourse  to  mineral  waters  is  often  felt  more  after  than 
during  treatment. 

Since  improved  methods  of  bottling  have  been  discovered, 
and  the  advantage  of  an  additional  supply  of  carbonic  acid 
has  been  appreciated,  the  export  of  waters  from  their  sources 
has  increased  enormously,  and  most  of  the  principal  waters 
can  now  be  advantageously  used  at  home.  It  may  be 
added  that  many  of  the  artificial  imitations  of  them  are 
excellent. 

The  history  of  the  use  of  mineral  waters  can  only  jusl 
be  alluded  to.  They  have  been  employed  from  the  earliest 
periods,  and  traces  of  Koman  work, have  been  found  al 
most  of  the  European  baths  which  are  now  in  favour, — at 
almost  all  the  thermal  ones.  Occasionally  new  springs 
are  discovered  in  old  coimtries,  but  the  great  majority  ol 
them  have  been  .long  known.  They  have  varied  in 
popularity,  and  the  modes  of  applying  them  have  alsd 
varied,  but  less  so  than  has  been  the  case  with  most  of  the 
ordinary  medicines.  Warm  waters,  and  those  containing 
small  quantities  of  mineral  constituents,  appear  to  have 
remained  more  steadily  in  favour  than  any  other  clasi 
within  the  appropriate  sphere  of  mineral  waters,  which  L' 
limited  to  the  treatment  of  chronic  disease. 

The  attempt  has  been  made  to  range  mineral  watcn 
according  to  their  therapeutic  action,  according  to  theii 
internal  or  external  use,  but  most  generally  according  t( 
their  chemical  constituents  so  far  as  they  have  been  fron 
time  to  time  imderstood;  and  a  judicious  classificatioi 
undoubtedly  is  a  help  towards  their  rational  employment 
But  their  constituents  are  so  varied,  and  the  gradationi 
between  different  waters  are  so  finely  shaded  off,  that  i 
has  been  found  impossible  to  propose  any  one .  definiti 
scientific  classification  that  is  not  open  to  numberles 
objections.  Thus  a  great  many  of  the  sulphur  waters  ar 
practically  earthy  or  saline  ones.  Yet  because  they  con 
tain  very  minute  amounts  cf  such  a  gas  as  hydrosulphuri 
acid,  an  ingredient  so  palpable  as  always  to'  attrac 
attention,  it  is  considered  necessary  to  class  them  unde 
the  head  of  sulphur.  The  general  rule  is  to  attempt  t 
class  a  water  imder  the  head  of  its  predominant  element 
but  if  the  amount  of  that  be  extremely  small,  this  leads  t 
such  waters  as  those  of  Mont  Dore  being  classified  a 
alkaline  or  arseniated,  because  they  contain  a  very  littl 
soda  and  arsenic.  The  classification  in  the  following  table 
which  is  that  usually  adopted  in  Germany,  has  the  meri 
of  comparative  simplicity,  and  of  freedom  from  theoretica 
considerations  which  in  this  matter  influence  the  Frenc; 
much  more  than  the  German  writers.  The  more  imi)ortau 
constituents  only  are  given.  The  amount  of  solid  constitv 
ents  is  the  number  of  parts  to  one  thou.sand  parts  of  th 
water ;  the  tomi>eratiiro  of  thermal  s])ring3  is  added.  Th 
waters  are  cla.ssified  as  indifferent,  earthy,  salt,  sulphurettec 
iron,  alkaline,  alkaline  saline — with  subvarieties  of  tabl 
waters  and  purging  waters. 


MINERAL     WATERS 

Table  1.— Typical  Mineral  Waters. 


433 


Solids. 

Bicarbonate  of  soda.  

,,  potash... 

t,  magnesia. 

,,  calcium... 

Sulphate  of  soda 

,,  potash 

,,  magnesia 

,,  calcium 

Sulphide  of  sodium 

Chloride  of  sodium 

,,  potash 

,,  magnesia 

Carbonate  of  iron 

Silicic  acid 

Gases, 

Carbonic  acid 

Hydvosulphmic  acid 


•0017 
•0195 
•0208 
•0135 


•0005 
■0496 


•013 
•012 
•050 
•038 


Sail. 
Eiasingen. 


•389 
552 


:Satl. 
Sea-Water. 


2^38 

296 
•25 

25  21 

3-39 


Sulphui 
Alx-la-Chapelle, 


•6449 
•0506 


•0136 
2-616 


Scbwalbach. 


•0206 

■2122 
■2213 

•0079 
•0037 


•0837 
•0320 


Alkaline. 
Vichy, 


4  883 
•352 
•303 
•434 
•292 


Alkaltnt. 

Saline. 
CarUhad, 


•16 

1^03 
•003 


159 
16^0 


In  addition  to  their  solid  constituents,  gas  is  present  in 
many  waters  in  considerable  qnantity.  There  is  a  little 
oxygen  and  a  good  deal  of  nitrogen  in  some  of  them. ;  the 
quantity  of  hydrosulphuric  acid,  even  in  strong  sulphuric 
waters,  is  wonderfully  small ;  but  the  volume  of  carbonic 
acid  present  is  oft^n  very  large, — for  instance,  in  the  case  of 
Kissingen,  Schwalbach,  and  Selters.  Carbonic  acid  is  so 
generaUy  diffused  that  it  is  practically  a  very  important 
agent  in  the  therapeutics  of  mineral  waters.  Springs  that 
contain  it  are  far  the  most  agreeable  to  the  taste,  and 
consequently  most  popular  with  patients.  The  immediate 
effect  of  the  carbonic  acid  which  they  contain  is  that  of 
pleasant  stimulation  to  the  stomach  and  system,  although 
it  can  scarcely  be  said  to  approach,  as  some  have  thought, 
the  slighter  forms  of  stimulation  from  alcoholic  drinks. 
Extremely  little  appears  to  be  known  of  its  actual  operation 
on  the  systom :  a  part  of  what  is  swallowed  is  returned  by 
eructation,  and  a  part  passes  on  to  the  intestines ;  whether 
any  appreciable  quantity  reaches  the  blood  is  doubtful. 
There  is  no  question  that  carbonic  acid  increases  diuresis. 
Practically  it  is  found  to  aid  digestion,  helping  the  functions 
of  the  stomach,  and  in  a  slight  degree  the  peristaltic  action 
of  the  intestines.  The  increased  flow  of  urine  may  be 
caused  by  its  favouring  the  absorption  of  water  by  the 
stomach.  In  some  baths  carbonic  acid  is  so  abundant  that 
precautions  have  to  be  taken  to  prevent  its  tendency  to 
iccumulate  on  account  of  its  heavy  specific  gravity.  Car- 
bonic acid  gas,  used  as  a  bath,  proves  stimulating  to  the 
skin  and  to  the  general  system ;  but  its  employment  has 
not  answered  the  expectations  formed  of  it. 

Indifercixi  Waters  scarcely  vary  iji  chemical  qualities  from  ordi- 
nai-y  drinking  water  ;  but  they  are  usually  of  higher  temlioraturo. 
Their  therapeutic  action,  which  is  mainly  exercised  through  baths, 
has  been  explained  on  the  theory  of  peculiarities  of  their  electric  or 
thermal  condition,  about  which  we  know  nothing  definite,  and  on 
tlie  presence  in  some  of  them  of  a  large  quantity  of  nitrogen.  It 
has  also  been  ascribed  to  the  various  organic  substances  in  some  of 
them,  such  as  glairiu,  which  when  collected  is  sometimes  useful  as 
a  cataplasm.  These  waters  are  not  often  much  drunk,  but  any 
efficiency  they  may  have  in  dyspepsia  and  perhaps  in  neuralgic 
diarrhoeas  must  be  attributed  to  tlie  favourable  action  of  hot  water 
on  the  digestion.  The  waters  of  this  class,  especially  the  hotter 
ones  iu  the  form  of  baths,  are  extremely  useful  in  resolving  the 
effects  of  inflammation,  in  thickenings  of  the  joints,  <ind  in  chronic 
rheumatism  and  gout.  Tliey  also  are  often  eH'ectivc,  especially  the 
cooler  ones,  in  neuralgia  and  in  some  hysterical  affections.  Tliey 
are  somet'mcs  prescribed  in  urinary  aftcctions,  in  which  case  they 
probably  assist  o^-  dilution.  The  effects  of  many  of  these  waters  are 
,  aided  by  the  baths  often  being  situated  at  considerable  elevations 
and  in  out-of-the-way  spots,  whence  the  Germans'  called  them 
Wildbader.  They  are  very  widely  diffused,  being  found  iji  all 
quarters  of  the  globe,  especially  in  volcanic  districts.  There  arc 
many  in  New  Zealand ;  iu  America  the  hottest  are  iu  the  West  and 
in  California. 

1&— ir 


Table  U.'^—Indiferent  W.ilers. 


Evian,  Lake  of  Gene? 
Badenweiler,  Baden . 

Buxton,  England 

Sclilangenbad,  Na^sai 
Sacedon,  Spain , 


Wililbad,  Wlirtcmberg. 
PfelTeifl,  Switzerland... 
Ragatz,  do. 

Panticosa,  S.  Pyrenees. 

Teplitz,  Bohemia 

Gastcin,  Austria 


101-120 
35-118 


For  what  prescribed. 


I  Nei-vous  cases,   dyspepsia,   urinary 
[     affections. 

I  For  mild  rheumatic  treatment :   a 
[     health  resort. 

Gout   and    rbeumatism    fnitrocen 
,     present). 

Nervous  cases,  female  disordei-s. skin. 

Rheumatism,  gout,  cutaneous  aflec- 

Gout    and   rheumatism,  neuralgia, 
thickenings. 


Do.  (nitrogen  present);  special  action 

in  phthisis. 
Gout,  rheumatism,  old  injuries,  jolnia 

Do.        do.;  soothes  nervous  system. 


Earthy  Waters.— These  differ  chiefly  from  the  indifferent  waters 
m  containing  an  appreciable  quantity  of  salts,  among  which  sulphate 
or  carbonate  of  lime  or  of  magnesia  predominates.  The  great 
majority  of  them  are  of  high  temperature.  They  produce  the  same 
effects  as  the  indifferent  waters,  but  are  perhaps  less  efficacious 
in  neuralgic  affections,  while  they  are  more  employed  in  some  of 
the  chronic  scaly  eruptions.  There  was  formerly  a  tendency  to 
c«nsider  these  waters  useful  in  urinary  affections  ;  but  at  the 
present  day  it  is  only  the  colder  ones  that  have  come  into  repute 
for  tlie  expulsion  of  gravel  and  biliary  calculi  and  in  the  treat- 
ment of  affections  of  the  bladder  generally.  Some  of  them  have 
also  of  late  years  been  considered  to  exercise  a  favourable  influence 
on  scrofula,  and  to  be  useful  in  the  early  stages  of  pulmonary 
phthisis.  This  has  been  attributed  to  the  salts  of  lime  present  in 
them,  although  it  is  known  that  most  of  its  salts  pass  throuo-h  the 
system  unaltered,  llany  of  tliese  baths,  sncli  as  Leuk  and  Bormio, 
enjoy  the  advantages  of  great  elevation,  but  Bath,  othenvise  one  of 
the  best  of  them,  lies  low. 

Table  IU.— Earthy  Waters. 


Locality. 


Contrexerille,  Vosgcs 

Lippe  Springe,  N.  Germany 
Wildungen,              do. 
Wclssenbcrg,  Switzerland... 
Pougues,  France 


Baden,  Switzerland 1,1S0 

Leuk.  do 4,400 

Bormio.  Xorth  Italy 4,400 

Lucca,  Italy  ' 

Batli,  England 1      ... 

Dus.  toiitli  of  France 1,400 

B.  do  Bigoires,  Pyrenees l.SOO 


Temp. 


03-123 
66-104 
lOS-122 
lOS-122 


I  calculous 


\      affections. 

(  Supposed  to  be    useful  in 

^      phthisis. 

Special  use  in  urinary  com* 
,  plaints;  contains  iron, 
f  Resorted  to  for  pulmonary 
(  affections. 
Dyspepsia,  diabetes,  hepatic 
and  urinary  concretions, 
f  Rheumatism,  gout,  paraly. 
^       is.  scaly  crupiions. 

some  female  comiilainfs. 
do.      ;  old  sprains.  1 


G4-123  I  Do.;  chlorosis. neuralgia. 


'  In  this  and  the  following  tables  a  selection  is  given  of  some  of  the  best-known 
mineral  waters  in  various  European  coaiitrics  that  possess  establislimcnts.  Their 
chief  pcculiurities  of  elevation,  of  temperature,  and  constituenis  are  briefly  noted 
The  curative  effects,  necessarily  alluded  to  very  generallv.  are  those  usually 
ottribnted  to  them..  ^"ou. 


434 


M  I  N  E  R"A  L     W  A  T  E  R  S 


Salt,  ffaiers  are  so  called  from  containine  a  predominant  amount 
of  chloride  of  sodium.  T"'-iy  also  generally  contain  chlorides  of 
magnesia  and  of  limo,  and  occasionally  small  amounta  of  lithium, 
bromine,  and  iodine.  They  further  often  contain  a  little  iron,  which 
is  au  important  addition.  The  great  majority  of  the  drinlcing  wells 
have  a  large  supply  of  carbonic  acid.  There  are  cold  and  hot  salt 
springs.  Sometimes  they  are  used  for  drinking,  sometimes  for 
bathing ;  -and  the  double  use  of  them  is  often  resorted  to. 

The  normal^  quantity  of*conimon  salt  consumed  daily  by  man  is 
usually  set  down  at  about  300  grains.  The  maximum  quantity 
likely  to  be  taken  at  any  well  maybe  225  grains,  but  commonly  not 
more  than  half  of  that  amount  is  taken.  The  increase  to  the  usual 
daily  amount  is  therefore  probably  not  much  more  than  one-third. 
Still  it  may  be  presumed  that  the  action  of  a  solution  of  salt  on  an 
empty  stomach  is  different  from  that  of  the  same  amount  of  salt 
taken  with  food.  Salt  introduced  into  the  stomach  excites  the 
secretion  of  gastric  juice,  and  favours  the  peristaltic  actions,  and 
when  takeu  in  considerable  quantity  is  distinctly  aperient.  We 
thus  see  how  it  is  useful  in  dyspepsia,  in  atony  of  tho  stomach  and 
intestines,  and  sometimes  in  chronic  intestinal  catarrh.  Salt  when 
absorbed  by  the  stomach  appears  a^in  in  the  urine,  of  which  it  in- 
creases the  amount  both  of  fluid  and  of  solid  constituents,  especially 
of  the  urea.  It  seems  therefore  to  be  pretty  certain  that  considerable 
quantities  of  salt  taken  into  the  circulation  increase  the  excretion 
of  nitrogenous  products  through  the  urine,  and  on  the  whole 
accelerate  the  transformation  of  tissue.  Salt  is  thus  useful  in 
Scrofula  by  stimulating  the  system,  and  also  in  anaemia,  especially 
when  iron  is  also  pi-esent.  In  some  German  stations,  as  at  Soden, 
carbonated  salt  waters  are  considered  to  be  useful  in  chronic 
laryngitis  or  granular  pharyngitis. 

•  Baths  of  salt  water,  as  usually  given,  rarely  contain  more  than  3 
per  cent,  of  chloride  of  sodium,  some  of  the  strongest  perhaps  from 
8  to  10  per  cent.  Their  primary  action  is  as  a  stimulant  to  the 
skin,  in  which  action  it  is  probable  that  the  other  chlorides, 
especially  that  of  calcium,  and  still  more  the  carbonic  acid  often 
present,  co-operate.  In  this  way,  and  when  aided  by  various  pro- 
cesses of  what  may  bo  termed  water  poultices  and  packing,  they 
are  often  useful  in  removing  exudations,  in  chronic  metvitis  and 
in  some  tumours  of  the  uterus,  and  generally  in  scrofula  and  rachitis, 
and  occasionally  iu  some  chronic  skin  affections. 

Tho  French  accord  Ivigh  praise  to  some  of  their  thermal  salt 
waters  in  paralysis,  and  some  German  ones  are  used  in  a  similar 
way  in  spinal  affections.  The  salt  waters  are  sometimes  so  strong 
that  they  must  be  diluted  for  bathing.  In  other  cases  concen- 
trated solutions  of  salt  are  added  to  make  them  sufficiently  strong. 
These  waters  are  v»ridely  diffused,  but  on  the  Vi-hole  Germany  is 
richest  in  them,  especially  in  such  as  are  highly  charged  with 
salt.  The  Kissingen  springs  m.ay  be  considered  as  tj'pical  of  ihe 
drinking  wells,  and  sea-water  of  bathing  waters.  The  air  of  salt- 
works and  pulverization  of  the  water  are  employed  in  German 
baths  as  remedial  agents. 

Salt  springs  are  found  in  many  quarters  of  the  world,  but  the 
chief  can)onated  groups  for  drinlcing  purposes  occur  in  Germany, 
and  at  Saratoga  in  America,  where  very  remarkable  wells  indeed 
are  to  be  found.  France  and  England  have  no  springs  of  this 
class.  The  stronger  wells,  used  chiefly  for  bathing,  occur  where 
Table  1Y. —Salt  ,S;;rni.7s. 

i 


Locality. 


Hombiug,         do 

KlssinReii,  Bavaria 

Pynnont,  Noitii  Germany.. 


114-149 
116-6 


Kreuznach,  near  Bingcn. 

"Wiesbaden,  Noss-iu 

Baden-Baden  

Bourbonne,  Haute-Marni 
Balanic,  South  France... 
Sallns,  Moutlcrs.  Savoy  (USO  ft.) 

Biidca,  Savoy  (1700  ft.) 95 

Acoul,  Korth  Italy 169 

Abano,        do 18S 

Coldna    da    Mombuy,    near  1  1 155.158 

Barcelona )  . 

Costona,  Guipuzcoo,  Spain 83-94 


Therapeutic  Action. 


Dyspepsia,  aniemla,  sci'ofula, 
special  for  tliroat  and  phthisis. 
Dyspepsia,      slighter      hepatic 

affections,  chlorosis,  goul. 
In  all  essentials  the  same. 
Better  known  for  its  Iron;  has 

a  good  salt  drinking  spring. 
Aealt  wellwlth'mt  carbonic  acid 

used  in  acrofula  and  nnxraia; 

bathing  more  Important. 
Used  In  dyspepsia  ond  gout;  the 

bathing  is  most  Important. 
Stillmllderwater;  uses  similar ; 

gout. 
nheumatUm,  neuralgia,  eEFects 

of  malaria. 
Do. ;  special  for  treatment  of 

paralysis. 
Scrofula,  untemla,  loss  of  power, 

sexual  disordcra. 
Act  on  liver  and  digestive  Canal ; 

used  for  obesity. 
Rlicumntism;  special  treatment 

with  tho  bull!  deposit. 
Chiefly  09  balhs;  mud  of  bath 

uied  for  poultice, 
nheumntlsm,  stlatica,  old  in- 
juries. 
Uluumatlsm,  Indigestion,  bron- 
chitis. 


Almost  all  the  abovo  fltaliona  have  several  sprlnc^  of  vailourt  strengilis  :  tho  cold 
may  bo  said  to  vary  from  H  to  5  8  per  cent,  of  clilorldo  of  6odlum  ;  Iho  warm  aie 
generally  'leaker,  perhaps  varj-lng  from  6-8  to  l"6. 


there  are  salt-bearing  strata,  as  in  Germany,  Galicia,  Italy,  Switzer-' 
land,  France,  and  England.  Very  powerful  waters  of  this  class  are 
those  of  St  Catherines  in  Canada. 

The  presence  of  minute  portions  of  iodine  or  bromine  in  salt 
waters  is  by  no  means  infrequent,  and  they  appear  in  considerable 
quantity  in  some  few.  It  is,  however,  e.^tremely  doubtful  whether 
any  known  spring  contains  a  sufficient  quantity  of  iodine,  still  more 
of  bromine,  to  act  specially  on  the  system,  even  if  that  action  were 
not  necessarily  superseded  by  the  presence  of  the  large  quantity  of 
other  salts  with  which  they  are  associated.  Some  of  the  best  known 
springs  of  the  kind  are  : — Challes,  "Wildcg^,  Castrocaro,  Hall,  Adel- 
htid's  Quelle,  Krankenheil,  Kreuznach,  Woodhall  Spa.  ■ .-.   ■  4 

IrOn  or  Chalybeate  iVatcrs. — Iron  usually  exists  in  waters  in  the 
state  of  protoxide  or  its  carbonate,  less  frequently  as  sulphate  or 
crenate,  and  very  rarely  if  at  all  as  chloride.  The  quantity  jiresent 
is  usually  extremely  small.  It  may  be  said  to  vary  from  '12  to  "03 
in  tho  1000  parts  of  water.  Some  wells  considered  distinct  chaly- 
baates  contain  less  than  '03.  ilany  wells,  especially  in  Germany,*" 
have  a  rich  supply  of  carbonic  acid,  which  is  unfortunately  wanting 
in  French  and  Knglish  ones.  -      ' '■ 

It  has  long  been  the  prevalent  idea  that  want  of  iron  in  the  blood 
is  the  main  cause  of  chlorosis  and  of  other  anremic  conditions,  and 
that  these  conditions  are  best  relieved  by  a  supply  of  that  metaL 
Since  the  (detection  of  it  in  htenioglobuline  tliis  view  has  been  still 
more  popular.  It  is  pretty  certain  that  the  blood  contains  37  to 
47  grains  and  the  whole  system  70  to  74  grains  of  iron  ;  and  it 
has  been  calculated  that  in  normal  conditions  of  the  system  some- 
what more  than  one  grain  of  iron  is  taken  daily  in  articles  of  food, 
and  that  the  same  amount  is  passed  in  the  faces;  for  although  the 
stomach  takes  tlie  iron  up  it  is  excreted  by  the  alimentary  canal 
mainly,  it  being  doubtful  whether  any  is  excreted  in  the  urine.  It 
is  possible  by  drinking  several  glasses  to  take  in  more  than  a  grain 
of  carbonate  of  iron  in  the  day,  equivalent  to  half  that  amount  of 
metallic  iion.  It  has  further  been  ingeniously  reckonedfrom  practice 
that  10  to  15  grains  of  metallic  iron  suffice  to  supply  the  deficiency 
in  the  system  in  a  case  of  chlorosis.  It  is  thought  probable  that 
a  portion  of  the  iron  taken  up  in  water  is  in  certain  pathological 
states  not  excreted,  but  retained  in  the  system,  and  goes  towards 
making  up  the  want  of  that  metal.  But,  \vhether  this  or  any  other 
explanation  be  satisfactory,  there  is  no  question  as  to  the  excellent 
eflects  often  produced  by  drinking  chalybeate  waters  (especially 
when  they  are  carbonated),  and  by  bathing  in  those  which  are  rich  in 
carbonic  acid  after  they  have  been  artificially  heated.  As  regards 
the  drinking  cure  we  must  not,  bowever,  forget  that  carbonate  and 
chloride  of  sodium,  and  also  the  sulphate,  are  often  present  and  must 
be  ascribed  a  share  iu  the  cure.    Thus  chloride  of  sodium  is  a  power-J 

T.\BLE  Y.— Stronger  Salt  }Vatcrs. 


Chloride  of 
Sodium  m 
1000  parts 
of  Water. 

Thcpapeutic  Appllcatloo.  -     ' 

Rhcinfeld,  Aargau,  Switzerland 

311 

256 
256 
235 
224 
156 
36 
235-6 

,      30-4 

24-85 
29 

f  Scrofula,  effe.tsof  Inrtairma- 

tion.  chronic  cxudoliens. 

some    chronic     cxantlic- 

maa,  rheuraotlsm,  uterine 

\     Infiltrations. 

Do.                        da 

Do.                        do. 

Do.                       do. 

Do.                      do. 

Do.                      de. 

Do.                        do 

Do.                      do. 

(Do.;    special  use  in  locomo- 
\    tor  aUxla. 

Do.                        do. 

Reiehenhall,  near  Salzburg  (ISOO  ft.) 

Castrocaro,  Tuscany 

Droitwich,  ne<ir  'Worcester 

Xfluhelm.  AVetterau  (80'-i03'  F.)  .... 

TAr 

LEVI. 

—Iron 

Waters. 

Locality 

Height 
in  Feet. 

Carb. 
o(  Iitjn. 

Thcrapc^jtic  Use. 

Rlppoldsau,  BiBck  Korcst 

Homburs,  near  Frankfort... 

Elster.  Saxony 

Licbenstcin,  North  Gcrmony 

1,886 

1,«5 

911 

900 

600 

1,614 

1,293 

1,000 
1,U3 
5,404 

1,463 

■12 
■10 
■03 
■08 
•08 
■OS 
■07 
■07 
■07 
•06 
■04 
■03 
■06 
■OS 
■01 

■It 

For  Bnieraic  corditiona;  laxative. 
Po.              do.            do. 
Do.              do.            do. 

Do.;  mach  of  a  ladles^  bath. 

Do. 

Do.;  laxative;  a  ladles'  balh. 

Do.        do.               do. 

Do. 

Do. 

Do.;  laxative. 

Do.;  sought  for  its  air. 

Do. 

Do. 

Do. 

Do.:dc5cientincarbonicacid 

Bocklet,  near  KIsslngcn 

Grlesbach,  Black  Forest 

Franzcnsbad.  Bohemia 

s  "^""bcIcIutti 

Pctcrsthal,  Black  Forest 

St      Moiltz.      Encadlne,  ) 

Switecrljnd > 

Forgcs-les-Eaux,  France 

La      Malou,        Hcrault,  ) 

Franco  (temp.  SS*) f 

Rccoaro,  North  Italy 

Tunbridgo  Wells,  England... 
Ilu-pralt  SjiilnK,  Harro-\ 

pat«  (chloride) ) 

MINERAL     WATERS 


435 


fhl&djarant  in  tha  strong  StaKl  Quelle  of  Homburg  and  in  the 
Putnam  Well  at  Saratoga.  A  wliole  category  of  female  complaints  is 
treated  successfully  witn  these  waters.  Indeed  anaemia  Irom  any 
fiource,  as  after  fever  or  throut^h  loss  of  blood,  and  enlargements  of 
the  spleen,  are  benefited  by  tnem.  The  stimulating  action  of  the 
copious  supply  of  carbonic  acid  in  steel  baths  is  a  very  important 
adjuvant;  no  one  now  believes  in  direct  absorpttion  of  iron  from  the 
bath.  Iron  waters  are  scarcely  ever  thermal.  They  are  extremely 
common  in  all  countries, — frequently  along  with  sulphuretted 
hytirogen  in  bogs,  and  near  coal -measures.  But  such  springs  and 
non-carbonated  wells  generally  are  weak,  and  not  now  held  in  much 
esteem. 

It  may  be  added  that  some  of  the  strongest  known  iron  wells  are 
tulphaied  or  aluminaied.  They  arG  styptic  and  astringent,  and  can 
only  be  used  diluted.  They  are  sometimes  useful  as  an  application 
to  mcers  and  sores.  Such  springs  have  often  been  brought  into  notice, 
but  never  retain  their  popularity.  They  are  known  m  the  Isle  of 
Wight,  in  Wales,  in  Scotland,  as  well  as  in  Elba,  &c. ;  and  of  late 
years  the  Bedford  Alum  and  Oak  Orchard  Springs,  U.S.,  Ijave  been 
brought  into  notice,  the  latter  containing  10  grains  of  froo  sulphuric 
acid  in  the  pint.  All  such  springs  have  been  considered  useful  in 
scrofula,  anaemiaj  and  chronic  diarrhoeas. 

Sulphur  Springs. — Waters  having  the  odour  of  hydrosulphuric 
aiid,  however  slightly,  are  usually  called  sulphur  ones.  They  owe 
their  smell  sometiines  to  the  presence  of  the  free  acid,  sometimes 
to  sulphides  of  sodium,  calcium,  or  magnesia,  and  sometimes  to 
both.  Hydrosulphuric  acid  is  absorbed  more  freely  by  cold  than  by 
hot  water,  and  is  therefore  most  abundant  in  cold  springs.  The 
sulphides  decompose  and  give  off  the  gas.  Most  of  these  springs 
occur  near  coal  or  shale  measures,  or  strata  containing  fossils,  or  in 
moors  and  in  places  generally  where  organic  matter  is  present  in 
the  soil  or  strata.  Many  of  them  contain  so  little  mineral  impreg- 
nation that  they  might  as  well  be  classed  among  the  indifferent 
or  earthy  waters.  One  group  contains  a  considerable  amount  of 
chloride  of  sodium,  another  ot  sulphate  of  lime,  while  a  third  has 
littlo  mineral  impregnation,  but  contains  sulphides. 

Hydi'osulphuric  acid  is  a  strong  poison,  and  its  action  on  the 
system  has  been  pretty  well  ascertained.  It  has  been  assumed  that 
the  gas  in  mineral  waters  acts  similarly,  though  in  a  modified 
degree ;  but  there  is  next  to  nothing  absolutely  kno^vn  of  the 
action  of  the  small  quantities  of  the  gas  that  arc  present  in  mineral 
waters,  and  which  certainly  have  no  toxic  effect.  It  has  been 
assumed  that  this  gas  has  some  special  action  on  the  portal  system 
and  so  on  the  liver.  On  the  connexion  of  metallic  poisoning 
with  the  liver  has  been  founded  the  idea  that  sulphur  waters  are 
useful  in  metallic  intoxication.  Drinking  large  quantities  of  these 
waters,  especially  of  such  as  contain  sulphates  or  chlorides  of 
sodium  or  magnesia,  combined  with  hot  baths  and  exercLso,  may 
help  to  break  up  albuminates,  but  there  is  no  proof  of  the  action 
of  the  sulphur. 

For  similar  reasons,  and  primarily  to  counteract  mercurial  poison, 
sulphur  waters  have  been  considered  useful  in  syphilis.  But  it 
may  be  well  to  remember  that  at  most  baths  mercury  is  used  along 
with  them.  No  doubt  they  are  frequently,  like  other  warm'  waters, 
useful  in  bringing  out  old  eruptions,  acting  in  this  way  as  a  test 
for  syphilitic  poison,  and  in  indicating  the  treatment  that  may  be 

Table  VII. — Cold  Sulphur  Spring 


pKSd  '»^f,''^ 


Water. 


Eilaan.  Schaumburg-Llppe '         42-3 

Molnberg,  Llppe-Dctmold .,         23-1 

Gumigel,  Switzerland  (3G00  ft.) I  15'1 

Lcuk,  do.         (3593  It.). „ .i         44-5 

Challes,  Savoy  (000  ft.) 

Enghieii.  near  Paris 

Uriago.  Isfero,  France  (1500  ft.) 7-3i 

Uan'ogatc,  England 

SlrathpctTer.  Scotland 

lilsdunvarna,  CJare,  Ireland 


Table  VIII.  —  Warm  Sulphur  Springs. 


locollly. 

Height 
In  Feet. 

Temp. 
•  Fabr. 

Sulphide 
of  Sodium. 

Jlydrosul- 

ptiuric  Acid 

absorbed  iu 

Water. 

s:4 

1,060 

1,350 

500 

705 

2,000 

4,100 

810 

3,254 

2,400 

131-140 

D5-115 

80-02 

92-113 

110 

108  5 

135-5 

113 

87-147 

71-134 

00-5 

126 

•01 
•052 

;;; 

'■07 
•04' 
•01 
•02 
•02 

■3 
2-5 
37-3 
3^5 
42-6 
27-2 

"Bardgcs.         dq,      

C&uteret^     *  "''        do 

Eaux  Bonnea               do 

Aicheim,  Marcla.  Spain 

TMulred.  Sulphur  watera^both  hot  and  cold,  are  used  in  gout  and 
rheumatism,  m  dyape|isia,  in  hepatic  and  cutaneous  affections ;  and 
of  late  years  inhalation  of  them  has  been  popular  in  phthisis  and 
in  laryngeal  affections.  They  have  long  been  popular  remedies  in 
cutaneous  affections.  Wlule  so  much  doubt  has  been  cast  on  the 
action  of  the  sulphur  of  these  waters,  it  may  be  admitted  that  the 
sulphides  are  probably  decomposed  in  the  stomach  and  hydrosul- 
phuric acid  generated.  That  gas  is  probably  a  slight  stimulant 
to  the  intestine.  What  hydrosulphuric  acid  reaches  the  blood  ia 
ehmmated  by  the  lungs.  There  seems  to  be  no  doubt  that  the  gas 
is  absorbed  in  small  quantities  by  the  skin. 

It  is  in  sulphur  -Boaters  chiefly  that  glairin  and  baregin  occur. 
This  peculiar  organic  substance  has  been  found  both  in  American  and 
in  European  springs.  Cold  sulphur  springs  are  very  widely  diffused 
throughout  the  world.  Thermal  ones  are  not  so  common.  Per- 
haps the  largest  though  not  the  strongest  group  of  the  latter  is  to 
be  found  in  the  Pyrenees.  We  may  remark  again  how  very  little 
hydrosulphuric  acid  there  is  in  many  of  the  most  favourite  sulphur 
springs,  including  the  very  popular  White  Sulphur  ones  of  Virginia. 
There  seems  to  be  something  peculiarly  unsatisfactory  in  the 
analysis  of  sulphur  waters,  and  there  has  been  difficulty  in  construct- 
ing the  following  imperfect  tables. 

Some  of  the  most  powerful  cold  wells  are  those  of  Challes  (with  its 
very  peculiar  water),  Leuk,  and  Harrogate.  Uriage  has  a  very.largo 
amount  of  chloride  of  sodium  in  its  springs.  Coki  sulphur  waters 
are  on  the  whole  more  used  in  liver  and  indigestion  than  warm 
ones.  The  general  effects  of  warm  sulphur  waters  differ  so  littlo 
at  the  various  baths  as  to  make  it  difficult  to  mention  anything 
special  to  particular  localities.  Schinznach  has  a  reputation  in 
skin  complaints,  Cauterets,  Eaux  Bonnes,  and  Challes  in  laryngeal 
affections,  the  two  Aixes,  Luclion,  and  Archena  in  syphilis. 

Alkaline  Waters  are  such  as  contain  carbonate  (chiefly  bicarbon- 
ate) of  soda,  along  with  an  excess  of  carbonic  acid.  Of  the  action  of 
those  carbonates  it  is  known  that  when  taken  into  the  stomach 
they  are  neutralized  by  the  gastric  juice,  and  converted  into  chloride 
of  sodium.  On  their  introduction  into  the  stomach  they  produce 
an  increased  flow  of  gastric  juice.  If  given  during  or  immediately 
after  meals  in  any  quantity,  they  impede  digestion.  They  slightly 
increase  peristaltic  action,  but  only  feebly,  unless  assisted  by  other 
salts.  They  act  slightly  as  diuretics.  Of  the  connexion  between 
the  biliary  system  and  alkalies,  which  undoubtedly  exists,  not  much 
is  known  with  certainty.  The  alkalization  of  the  blood  by  them  is 
assumed  by  many,  but  not  proved.  It  is  very  doubtful  whether 
they  reduce  the  quantity  of  fibrinc  in  the  blood,  and  thus  induce  a 
Table  IX. — Alkaline  Waters. 


Class  l.Simpfe  Alkalit 


Vala,  South  France 

Bllin,  Bohemia 

Vichy,  France  (105"  F.) , 

Neucnahr,  Hhlneland  (92*-97*  F.), 

La  Malou,  France  (37*  F.) 

VIdago,  Portugal 


Therapeutic  Uses. 


(,    diabetes. 
Do. 
Do. 


Mucous  catarrh;  diabetes  specially, 
f  Do. ;  sedative  effect  on  nervous 
I    system. 

j  Do.,  gout,  urinary  affections — "TJie 
(    Portdgueso  Vicliy." 


i  If. —  With  Chloride  of  Sodium  vartiin^ /ront  4^3  to  I  in  amount. 


Locality. 


Luhatschowltz,  Moravia.. 
Tcinnistcin,  Rhine  Valley. 

Fms,  Nassau 

Ischia,  Italy 

Royat,  Auvergne 

Mont  Dore,  do 

Bourboule,  do 


Height 
in  Feet 

Temp. 
•  Fahr. 

Cavb. 
Soda. 

1,000 

84 
2-5 

85-116 

2^0 

npt(yl70 

2  0 

1,400 

80-35 

■  •3 

3,300 

100-114 

2,800 

107-125 

Therapeutic  Uses. 


J  Springs  rich  both  in  carb. 


SpL'cially  rheiimatlBm 
and  ftmale  complaintB. 
I  Do.  and  some  skin 
I  affections. 
?  Asthma;  chronic  larj'"' 
\    gitis. 

J  Scrofula,  rachitis,  cuta- 
1     ncoua  affcciiona. 


Tamap,  Lower  Engadin*; 

Ciilsbad,  Bohemia  (lil'-lGl'  1 


Do.;  spccifll 
Do.;  spL'ciaDy  a  ladies'  bath. 
i  rowLTfcl    action    on    aidomEnal 


436 


MINERAL     WATERS 


lowered  stato  of  the  sjstcm,  or  whether  they  have  auy  direct  tend- 
ency to  combine  with  fat  and  carry  off  a  portion  of  superfluous 
adipose  tissue.  Their  excess  of  carbonic  acid,  through  its  action  on 
the  stomach,  favours  the  operation  of  alkaline  waters.  They  have 
been  classed  as  follows: — (I.)  siniitle  alkaliues,  where  carbonate  of 
soda  is  the  main  agent  ;  (II.)  waters  containing  in  addition  some 
chloride  of  sodium  ;  (ill. )  waters  containing  sulphates  of  soda  or  of 
magnesia.  All  these  classes  may  be  said  to  be  used  in  gout,  lithi- 
asis,  affections  of  the  liver,  catarrh,  and  obstructions  of  the  gall 
ducts,  in  dyspepsia,  chronic  catarrh  of  the  stomach,  and  diarrhcea, 
in  obesity,  and  in  diabetes.  Some  of  the  waters  of  the  second  class 
are  supposed  to  influence  bronchial  catarrhs  and  incipient  phthisis, 
wliile  tlie  more  powerful  sulphated  waters  of  the  third  class  are 
especially  useful  in  catarrh  of  the  stomach,  and  in  aflections  of  the 
biliary  organs ;  of  thoee  only  one  of  importance  (Carlsbad)  is  ther- 
mal. The  rival  cold  waters  of  Tarasp  contain  twice  as  much  car- 
bonate of  soda.  The  cold  ones  are  chiefly  used  internally,  the 
thermal  ones  both  internally  and  externally.  The  latter,  besides 
acting  as  warm  water,  slightly  stimulate  the  skin  when  the  car- 
bouic  acid  is  abundant,  and  the  carbonate  of  soda  has  some  slight 
detergent  effect  on  the  cutaneous  surface  like  soap.  These  waters 
are  unknown  in  England.  They  are  most  abundant  in  countries  of 
extinct  volcanoes. 

Classes  I.  and  II.  of  alkaline  waters  may  be  said  to  have  a  sub- 
variety  in  acidulated  springs  or  carbonated  waters,  in  which  the 
quantity  of  salts  is  very  small,  that  of  carbonic  acid  large.  These 
table  waters  are  readily  drunk  at  meals.  They  have  of  late  years 
been  so  widely  exported  as  to  bo  within  the  reach  almost  of  every 
one.  Their  practical  importance  in  aiding  digestion  is  in  reality 
much  greater  than  one  could  expect  from  their  scanty  mineraliza- 
tion. They  are  drunk  by  the  country  people,  and  also  largely  ex- 
ported and  imitated.  "^'I'^y  ?ve  very  abundant  on  the  Continent, 
and,  although  some  of  tl'o  best-known  ones  enumerated  below  are 
German  an  I  French,  tluy  f-ie  common  in  Italy  and  elsewhere:— 
Heppingeii,  Roisdorf,  Landskro,  Apollinaris,  Selters,  Brlickenau, 
Gicsliiibel,  all  German  ;  St  Galmier,  Pougues,  Chateldon,  French. 

Associated  with  Class  III.  is  that  of  the  stToHQly  snlpliatcd  waters 
known  in  Germany  as  bitter  or  purging  waters,  which  liave  of  late 
deservedly  come  into  use  as  purgative  agents.  They  aro  almost 
wanting  in  France  and  in  America,  and  there  are  no  very  good  ones 
in  England.  The  chief  supply  is  from  Bohemia  and  Hungary.  The 
numerous  waters  of  Ofen  are  the  best-known,  and  some  of  them  are 
stronger  than  the  Kunyadi,  of  which  an  analysis  has  been  given  in 
Table  I.  They  are  eafsily  imitated.  Some  of  the  best-known  are 
Ofen,  Ptillna,  "Saidschiitz,  Friedrichshall,  BirmerstolF,  Kissingen. 

Two  otlier  classes  of  waters  demand  a  few  words  of  notice.  The 
French  have  much  faith  in  the  presence  of  minute  quantities  of 
areeuic  in  some  of  their  springs,  and  ti-ace  arsenical  effects  in  those 
who  drink  them,  and  some  French  authors  have  established  a  class 
of  arsenical  waters.  Bourboule  in  Auvergne  is  the  strongest  of 
them,  and  is  sai<l  to  contain  i^jth  of  a  grain  of  arseniato  of  soda 
in  7  ounces  of  water.  Baden-Baden,  according  to  Bunsen's  latest 
analysis,  has  a  right  to  be  considered  an  arsenical  watei-.  It  is, 
however,  extremely  doubtful  whether  the  small  amounts  of  ar- 
seniate  of  soda  which  have  been  detected,  accompanied  as  they  are 
by  preponderating  amounts  of  other  salts,  have  any  actual  opera- 
tion on  the  system.  The  following  aro  among  the  most  noted 
springs  : — Bourboule,  Mont  Dore,  Uoyat,  Salies  (Bigorres),  Plom- 
bi^res,  Baden-Baden. 

Of  late  years  lithium  has  been  discovered  in  the  waters  of  Baden- 
Baden  ;  and  various  other  places  boast  of  the  amount  of  that  sub- 
stance in  their  springs.  Indeed  a  new  bath  has  been  established  at 
Assmannshausen  on  the  Khino  in  consequence  of  the  discovery  of 
a  weak  alkaline  spring  containing  some  lithium.  Not  very  much 
is  kno\\'n  of  the  action  of  lithium  in  ordinary  medicine,  and  it  un- 
doubtedly docs  not  exist  in  medicinal  doses  even  in  the  strongest 
springs.  Among  these  springs  aro  those  of  Baden-Baden,  Assmanns- 
hausen, Elster,  Royat,  Ballston  Spa,  and  Saratoga  (U.S.). 

American  Mineral  Waters. — Tho  number  of  springs  in  the 
United  States  and  Canada  to  which  public  attention  has  been 
called  on  account  of  their  supposed  tncrapeuttc  virtues  is  very 
large,  amounting  in  all  to  more  than  three  hundred.  Of  tliis  number 
comparatively  few  arc  in  Canada,  and  of  these  not  m'^re  than  six  (St 
Catharines,  Caledonia,  Plantagcnet,  Caxton,  Charlottesville,  and 
Sandwich)  have  attained  general  celebrity.  The  first  thrtfe  belong 
to  the  saline  class,  the  Caxton  is  alkaline-saline,  and  the  last  two  aro 
sulphur  waters.  Tho  St  Catherines  is  remarkable  for  the  very  large 
amounts  of  sodium,  calcium,  and  magnesium  cliloridcs  which  it 
contains,  its  total  salts  (450  grains  in  the  pint)  being  more  than 
throe  times  the  quantity  contained  in  tho  brine-baths  of  Kreuz- 
nach  in  Prussia.  The  Cliarlottesvillo  and  Sandwicli  si)rings  likewise 
surpass  tho  noted  sulphur-waters  of  Europe  in  their  excessive  per- 
centages of  sulphuretted  ]iydro"cn,  the  former  con  tainingmorotlian 
3  and  the  latter  472  cubic  inches  of  this  gas  in  the  pint. 

TIte  mineral  springs  in  tho  United  States  ore  very  unequally  dis- 
tribiitcd,  by  far  the  larger  number  of  those  which  aro  in  high 
medical  repute  occurring  along  the  Aj>palachiau  chain  of  mountains, 


and  more  especially  on  or  near  this  chain  where  it  passes  through  the 
States  of  Virginia,  "West  Virginia,  and  New  York.  The  Devonian 
and  Silurian  formations  which  overlie  the  Eozoic  rocks  along  tlie 
course  of  the  Appalaghian  chain  have  been  greatly  fissured — the 
faulting  of  the  strata  being  in  some  places  of  enormous  magnitude 
— by  the  series  of  upheavals  which  gave  rise  to  the  many  parallel 
mountain  ridges  of  the  Appalachians.  In  many  places  the  springs 
occur  directly  along  the  lines  of  faidt.  The  various  classes  of 
mineral  waters  are  likewise  very  unequally  represented,  the  alkaline 
springs,  and  those  containing  Glauber  and  Epsom  salts,  being  much 
inferior  to  their  European  representatives.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
very  numeroils  and  abundant  springs  of  Saratoga  compare  very 
favourably  with  the  Selters  and  similar  saline  waters,  and  amon^ 
the  many  American  clialybeate  springs  the  subclass  represented 
by  tho  Rockbridge  Alum  is  unequalled  in  regard  to  the  very  large 
percentages  of  alumina  and  sulphuric  acid  which  it  contains. 
Besides  its  greater  amount  Of  mineral  constituents  (135  grains  per 
pint),  the  Ballston  spring  surpasses  the  similar  saline  waters  of 
Homburg,  Kissingen,  Wiesbaden,  and  Selters  in  its  percentage  of 
carbonic  acid  (53  cubic  inches).  It  is  also  remarkable  for  the  very 
largo  proportion  of  carbonate  of  lichia,  amounting  to  0701  grains. 
Thermal  spring  are  specially  numerous  in  the  territories  west  of 
tho  Mississippi  and  in  California.  Those  in  the  east  mostly  occur 
in  Virginia  along  the  southern  portion  of  the  Appalachian  chain ; 
in  the  middle  and  New  England  States  Lebanon  is  the  only  im- 
portant thermal  spring.  Subjoined  is  a  list  of  thirty  American 
springs,  the  design  being  to  represent  as  many  of  the  more  noted 
sjias  as  possible,  while  at  the  same  time  enumerating  the  best  repre- 
sentatives of  the  classes  and  subclasses  into  wliicli  mineral  waters 
are  divided  according  to  the  German  method  of  classification. 


Designation  ai'd  Locality. 


'Lebanon,  CoIumWa  Co.,  N.Y.  (TS°  F.). 
IleaUng,  Bath  Co.,  Va.  (SS°  F.) 


Worm,  Bath  Co.,  Va.  (98"  F.).. 


Hot,  Bath  Co.,  Va.  (110'  F.) ., 


Hot,  Garliinil  Co.,  Ark.  (ft3'-150"  F.)..., 


Gettysburg,  Adams  Co.,  Pcnn 

Sweet,  5Ionroc  Co.,  W.  Vn.  {74"  F.)... 


ELtliesdn,  "Waukcslia  Co.,  Wis... 


WhUc  Snlphur,  Grccnbiuir  Co..  Va. .. 

Salt  Sulphur,  Monroe  Co.,  W.  Va 

>  Bedford,  Bedford  Co.,  Pcnn 

fSt  Catherines,  Ontario,  Canada 
Caledonia,  Ontario,  Canada. 
Hathome,  Saratoga,  X.Y 
Ballston,  Suratoga  Co..  N.V 


Oak-Orchard  Acid,  Gl'i 


:Co.,N.Y.. 


Rawley,  Rockinglmm  Co.,  Va.. 


Cooper's  Well,  Hinds  Co.,  Miss... 


life 


/Sladon,  Choctaw  Co.,  AIn.  (carbon-  > 

nted  nlkalliic) f 

I  Congress,    S;inta    Clurti   Co.,    Cul.  [ 

\      (snlinc  alkn'iiiO J 

St  Louis.  Gratiot  Co.,  Mtch.  (>Implc  ( 
V    allialinc) f 


Therapeutic  Application 


C  Scrofulous  ulcers  and  ophthal- 
J  niia,oza.'na,cliionic  dianh 
1  and  dyscntciy,  secondary 
(  and  tertiaiy  syphilis. 
^Chronic  and  subacute  rlicnina- 
■<  tism,  gout,  neuralgia,  neph' 
(    rltic  and  calculous  disca&'cs. 

{Chronic  rheumatism,  gout, 
diseases  of  liver,  neuralgia, 
contractions  of  joints. 


(Dartrous  diseases  of  skin, 
1  fuuct  ional  di&casesof  uterus, 
j  clironic  mercurial  and  lc;id 
(     poisoning. 

]  Calcuhis,  frniTcl,  catarrh  of 
J  stomach  or  bladder.dysiicpsls, 
J  Gravel,  dyspepsia  (diuietJc, 
\    diaphorciic). 

Nturalcia  (rcstomtivc). 

Purgative,  diuretic. 
(  Diabetes  mcllltus,  gravel,  in- 
■i  flamniaiton  uf  bladdor.dropsy, 
(  nJbuinlnuria  (diuivtic). 
"  and  altcrativo. 


Do. 


do. 


iDai-lrous    skin  diseases,    dis- 
eases of  the  bladdur,  jaun- 
dice, dy^pipfla. 
Do.;  scrofula  and  syphil: 

{Anaimio,     pavel      calculus 
(strongly  diuretic). 
1  Rheumatism,  gout,  scrofula. 


■alpin. 


Ilhcuniitiism.  gout. 
(Dyspepsia,  jaundice,  nbdoml- 
1    nai  plethora. 

Do.  do.  do. 

(Ulcci*5,  diseases  of  tho  skin 

)    passive  h.-cmoiThngi-s,  ulonii 

)    diairlicra(liaslOgr.ilnsoffm 

Hlpluiiic  ncid  Jn  Uic  pint). 


Scrofula,  chronic  dlnnhc 
(Anrenila,  chloi-osls,  ch 
{    dlairhoia,  djopsy. 


Jiibliographtj.—l.  i'ivrma.n :  E.  Osnnii.  PurstfUmig  da'  /Irilqiieflm  Eiiropas, 
8  vols.,  Berlin,  19.10-43 ;  J.  Soecen.  Ilaudbuchder  //,  ilquellcnte/uY,  Vienna.  lbG2; 
B.  .M.  Lcrscli,  J/pdrochemie,  1S70,  and  many  other  works;  Hclfft,  Handbuch  d. 
Bahitothcrapie,  8lh  cd.,  Berlin.  IST4  ;  VHleiitliier,  llandbuch  d.  ffalNfcthera/u'e, 
Berlin,  1S76;  L.  Lchmann.  Odder  v.  Prunnen  Lcht,  Bonn,  IR'T ;  J.  Uraun, 
Sffiftm.  Lfhrbuth  d.  Balneotherapie,  4th  cd.,  by  Fromm,  BerMn,  ISSO;  O.  Lclch- 
tcnsicrn.  Balneotherapir,  Leiitsle.  ISSO.  2.  French:  Dtrtionnairc  Jtt  E.tux 
minn-alts.  Ac.  by  MM.  Durond- Fardel.  .Vc.  2  vols.,  Paris.  18C0;  ,L  Lcfnrt,  Traits dt 
Cheinte  Jtydrolologigue^  2d  cd.,  Paris,  lbV3  ;  C  James.  Gnidt  Pi-afiQae  aiix  Z'anx 


M  I  N  —  M  I  N 


437 


mtnerare$,  Paris  (many  editions) ;  Mactf,  Guide  aux  ViVts  ^Eatix,  Aft.  Paris, 
18^1;  Jounne and  L«  Pileur,£«j  Sdifif  (f furore,  raris.  3.  Swiss;  Meyer  Ahrens, 
IIttl<juetten  dtr  Ikhireitt^  ZUrich,  1&G7  ;  GscU  Fcis,  Die  Bader  urtd  Kurorle  der 
Schacilt,  ZUrlcll,  1S80.  4.  Italian ;  G.  Jcrvis,  GttiJa  alle  Acgue  Minerati 
d'ltalia.  Tuiin,  1870,  Jcc;  E.  F.  Horltss,  Die  ffei/quetten  und  Kurluder  Jlalieru, 
Berlin,  1848.  5.  Spanish :  Rubio,  Tralado  de  lai  Fuenteg  Minaalei  de  Etpana, 
Uadrid,  1853;  Don  J.  de  Antelo  y  Sanchez  has  recently  published  a  work  on  Sp<>nish 
waters,  ti.  English  :  T.  Short,  Uittory  o/  the  Miiitrat  Waters,  London,  1734;  J. 
Rutty,  ifethodicai  Synopsis  of  Mineral  Waters,  London,  1757;  Granville,  Spas  of 
England,  1S41;  E.  Lee,  itiiieral  Springs  of  England,  London,  1841;  J.  Macpher- 
son.  Our  Baths  and  Wells,  1871 ;  Id^  Baths  and  Wells  of  Europe,  1873;  and  H. 
AVeber's  EnRlish  edition  o[  Braun,  London,  1875.  A  great  portion  of  the  literature 
Is  to  be  found  in  monographs  on  paitlcular  plaees.  7.  American  :  J.  Bell,  The 
ilineral  and  Thermal  Springs  of  the  United  Slates  and  Canada,  1855;  Moorman, 
The  Mineral  Waters  of  the  United  Stales  and  Canada,  18C7;  Chandler,  Leelnre 
on  Water,  1871 ;  Walton,  TAs  Mineral  Springs  of  the  United  "  ales  and  Canada. 
1875.  (J.  M.— A.  K.  L.) 

MINERVA  (i.e,,  menes^a,  endowed  irith  mind)  was  the 
Roman  goddess  who  presided  over  all  handicrafts,  inven- 
tions, arts,  and  sciences.  She  %.as  probably  an  Etruscan 
deity,  but  her  character  was  modified  on  Roman  soil  through 
lier  identification  with  the  Greek  Pallas  Athena  (see 
Athena).  No  legend  of  her  birth  is  recorded  ;  the  Roman 
deities  .were  abstractions,  not  distinct  persons  with  an 
indiWdual  history.  Her  chief  worship  in  Rome  was  in  the 
temple  built  by  Tarquin  on  the  Capitol,  where  she  was 
worshipped  side  by  side  with  Jupiter  and  Juno.  This 
foundation  may  be  assigned  to  Etruscan  influence.  She 
had  also  an  old  temple  on  the  Aventine,  which  was  a  regular 
meeting-place  for  dramatic  poets  and  actors.  The  dedi- 
cation day  of  the  temple  and  birthday  of  the  goddess 
Avas  March  19,  and  this  day  was  the  great  festival  of 
Minerva,  called  quinquaints  because  it  fell  on  the  fifth 
day  after  the  Ides.  The  number  five  was  sacred  to  the 
goddess.  All  the  schools  had  holidays  at  this  time,  and 
the  pupils  on  reassembling  brought  a  fee  (minerval)  to  the 
teachers.  In  every  house  also  the  quinquatrus  was  a 
holiday,  for  Minerva  was  patron  of  the  women's  weaving 
and  spinning  and  the  workmen's  craft.  At  a  later  time 
the  festival  was  extended  over  five  day.s,  and  games  were 
celebrated.  This  feature  is  evidently  due  to  the  Grsecizing 
conception  of  Minerva  as  the  goddess  of  war.  To  this  same 
Groecizing  tendency  we  must  attribute  the  lectistemium 
to  Minerva  and  Neptune  conjointly  after  the  battle  of  the 
Trasimene  Lake.  The  23d  had  always  been  the  day  of 
the  tubitusirinm,  or  purification  of  the  trumpets,  so  that  the 
ceremony  came  to  be  on  the  last  day  of  Jlinerva's  festival. 
Trumpets  were  used  in  many  religious  ceremonies ;  and 
it  is  very  doubtful  whether  the  iuhihtstrium  was  really  con- 
nected with  Jlinerva.  There  was  another  temple  of  Minerva 
on  the  Cotlian  HiU,  and  a  festival  called  the  lesser  nmnr 
^uatrus  was  celebrated  there  on  June  13-15,  chiefly  bv  the 
flute-players. 

Minerv.t  of  the  Cxlian  temple  was  callod  Capta;  June  19  was 
the  foniulatiou  day  ol'  tins  temple  and  tlio  birtliday  of  the  goddess. 
Tltc  iialladium,  au  archaic  image  of  Pallas,  was  broujlit  fiom  Troy 
to  Laviiiiuni,  auU  tUeuco  to  Rome  by  the  family  of  the  Kaiitii ;  it 
w.as  preserved  iu  the  tcmpio  of  Vesta  as  a  pledge  of  tlie  safety  of 
tlic  city.  Tliere  are  some  traces  of  an  identilication  of  Minerva  with 
tlic  Italian  goddess  ICerio,  wife  of  JIarsj  it  is  probable  Ihat  March 
ID  was  originally  a  feast  of  Jlars. 

Decide:"  Prcllcr,  /lUm.  Mutli.,  and  irartnnc,  lielig  J.  ltSiner,&c.,  sec  Jorda 
Epltem,  Epigraph.,  i.  233;  Moinmscn,  C.  /.  i.,  I.  S38:  I'acacr,  Jihefti.  J/us.,  xsx. 

MINGRELIA,  a  former  principality  of  Transcaucasia, 
which  became  subject  to  Russia  in  1804,  and  since  li?67 
has  constituted  three  circles  of  the  government  of  Kutais — 
Lotchgum,  Seuakh,  and  Zugdidi.  The  country  corresjionds 
to  tlie  ancient  Colchis;  and  Izgaur  or  Iskuriah  on  the  Black 
Sea  coast,  which  was  the  capital  during  the  period  of 
Jlingreliaii  independence  under  the  Dadian  dynasty,  is  to 
be  identified  with  the  ancient  DIoscurias,  a  colony  of 
Miletu.-*.  The  Mingrelians  (still  ahnost  exclusively  confined 
to  the  Mingreliau  territory,  and  numbering  197,000)  are 

^osely  akin  to  the  Georgians See  Caucasus,  vol.  v.  p. 

257,  and  (>'EonnT.i. 

MIXLiTURE  is  u  term  \vliich  by  common  usage  has 
come  to  be  applied  to  two  different  branches  of  painting. 


Derived  from  the  Latin  word  minium,  the  red  pigment 
used  in  the  primitive  decoration  of  MSS.,  in  the  first  place 
it  ia  the  technical  word  employed  to  describe  a  painting  in 
a  MS. ;  and,  from  the  fact  of  such  pictures  being  executed 
on  a  reduced  scale,  it  has  its  secondary  and  modem  signifi- 
cation of  a  small,  or  miniature,  portrait.  In  the  latter  sense 
it  belongs  to  the  general  subject  of  painting.  Here  it  is 
proposed  to  trace  the  development  of  the  miniature  in  MSSl 
of  the  different  schoob  of  Europe. 

The  rise  of  the  art  of  Illumination,  in  which  the 
miniature  plays  so  important  a  part,  has  been  described 
under  that  heading ;  and  something  has  been  said  in  that 
place  about  the  earliest  extant  specimens  of  miniature 
painting.  Unfortunately  we  cannot  with  any  certainty 
reach  farther  back  than  the  4th  century  for  the  most 
ancient  of  them ;  and  all  remaining  examples  between  that 
period  and  the  7th  century  iu  Greek  and  Latin  MSS. 
can  be  counted  on  the  fingers.  The  two  famous  codices  of 
Virgil  in  the  Vatican  Library  stand  pre-eminent  as  the 
most  ancient  Latin  MSS.  decorated  with  paintings.  The 
miniatures  in  the  first  of  them,  the  Codejc  Smnaniti-, 
are  large  and  roughly  yet  boldly  executed  paintings,  which 
have  no  pretension  to  beauty,  and  are  simply  illustra- 
tions ;  but  they  are  as  old  as  the  4th  century,  and  are 
of  the  highest  value  in  enabling  us  to  appreciate  the 
debased  style  to  which  classical  art  had  descended,  and 
which  no  doubt  was  more  largely  employed  than  we  might 
think.  The  second  MS.,  the  Sckedx  Vatkanix,  which  may 
also  be  assigned  to  the  4th  century,  is  far  more  artistic 
and  retains  a  good  deal  of  the  grace  of  classic  art.  Of 
the  same  kind,  but  of  rather  later  date,  are  the  fragments 
of  the  Iliad  in  the  Ambrosian  Library  at  Milan,  the 
miniatures  of  which  are  generally  of  exceUeat  design. 
Next  comes  the  Dioscorides  of  the  Imperial  Library  at 
Vienna,  with  its  semiclassical  portrait-miniatures  executed 
at  the  beginning  of  the  6th  century.  Of  a  rather  later 
period  are  the  paintings  which  illustrate  the  Greek  MS. 
of  Genesis  in  the  same  library.  A  far  finer  and  older  MS. 
of  the  same  book  of  the  Pentateuch  once  esusted  in  the 
Cottonian  Library,  but  was  almost  totally  destroyed  by 
fire.  The  few  fragments  of  the  miniatures  which  once 
filled  this  volume,  and  which  were  of  the  5th  century,  are 
sufficient  to  show  what  excellent  work  could  be  done  in  the 
capital  o(  the  eastern  empire,  from  whence  the  MSS.  most 
probably  came.  The  late  interesting  discovery  of  an  illus- 
trated SIS.  of  the  Gospels  in  Greek,  of  the  latter  part  of 
the  6th  century,  at  Rossano  in  southern  Italy,  adds  another 
number  to  our  scanty  list  of  early  volumes  of  this  class, 
which  is  closed  by  the  Latin  Pentateuch  in  the  library  of 
the  earl  of  Ashburnham.  This  last  JIS.,  however,  is  not 
older  than  the  7th  century.  It  was  executed  in  Italy, 
and  is  adorned  with  many  large  miniature.",  not  of  high 
artistic  merit,  but  of  great  interest  foi  the  history  of 
painting  and  of  costume. 

Coeval  with  the  MSS.  which  have  just  been  enumerated 
are  the  beautiful  mosaics  and  wall-paintings  which  are 
seen  at  Rome,  Ravenna,  and  in  other  parts  of  Italy,  serving 
as  standards  of  comparison  and  carrying  on  the  history  of 
art  where  MSS.  fail  us.  The  strong  and  ever-increasing 
P.yzantiue  element  which  appears  in  these  works  prepares 
us  to  find  the  predominance  of  the  same  influence  when  we 
again  pick  up  the  broken  thread  of  the  history  of  miniature 
painting.  We  may  then,  at  this  point,  turn  for  a  moment 
to  the  east  of  Europe  and  state  briefly  what  remains  of 
Greek  art  in  MSS.  Of  Greek  miniaUires  there  are  still 
many  fine  examples  extant,  but,  excepting  those  which 
have  been  noticed  above,  there  are  few  which  are  earlier 
than  the  11th  century.  At  this  period  the  miniatiue 
appears  in  the  set  form  which  it  retained  for  the  next  two 
or  three  hundred  years;  and  the  connexion  between  its 


438 


M  J  ii)  I  A  T   U  H  E 


style  and  that  of -the  mosaiSs  is  too  evident  for  us  to  be  at 
i  loss  to  explain  the  course  of  development.  The  figure 
Ira  wing  is  delicate,  but  rather  exaggerated  in  length;  the 
jolours  are  brilliant;  and  the  whole  effect  is  heightened  by 
flittering  backgrounds  of  gold.  In  some  few  instances, 
aowever,  the  Greek  artist  breaks  away  from  conventionalism, 
and,  especially  when  potirtraying  the  divine  features  of  the 
Saviour  or  some  subject  which  deeply  stirs  his  feelings,  he 
surprises  us  with  the  noble  dignity  with  which  he  invests 
his  figures.  Minuteness  also  caught  the  fancy  of  these 
Byzantine  miniaturists ;  and  there  still  remain  MSS.,  such 
as  Psalters  and  saints'  lives,  adorned  throughout  with 
delicate  little  dravrings  of  great  symmetry  and  beauty. 
rhe  ornamentation  which  was  employed  in  Greek  MSS. 
in  the  period  of  which  we  are  speaking,  either  as  frames 
tor  miniatures  or  as  borders  or  head-pieces,  is  designed 
Bvidently  after  Eastern  types,  and  has  'more  than  an 
ascidental  likeness  to  the  patterns  which  are  seen  in  the 
tapestries  tmd  prayer-carpels  of  Persia.  After  the  13th 
century  decadence  sets  in,  and  we  need  not  foUow  the 
course  of  Byzantine  art  in  MSS.  farther  than  to  notice  that 
immediately  from  it  sprang  such  national  styles  as  those 
of  .Russia,  Bulgaria,  and  modern  Greece. 

Meanwhile,  in  the  West,  under  the  fostering  care  of 
Charlemagne,  arose  a  great  school  of  deccfation  in  MSS., 
which  at  the  close  of  the  8th  and  beginning  of  the  9th 
century  were  multiplied  and  enriched  vfith  all  the  splendour 
that  colours  and  gilding  could  give  to  them.  But  the 
books  thus  ornamented  were  almost  always  copies  of  the 
Gospels,  or  Bibles,  or  chui-ch  service  books,  which  afforded 
little  scope  for  invention.  Hence  among  the  miniatures  of 
this  period  we  have  an  endless  repetition  of  portraits  of 
the  evangelists,  drawn,  for  the  most  part,  in  a  lifeless  way 
aft*  Byzantine  traditions,  and  degenerating,  as  time  passes, 
into  positive  ugliness.  The  few  miniatures  of  other  descrip- 
tions, such  as  Biblical  illustrations,  show  no  "great  merit, 
and  a  half-barbaric  splendour  was  generally  prefeiTed  to 
artistic  effect.  But  an  exception  must  be  made  in  regard 
to  the  style  of  drawing  found  in  the  MS.  Jcnown,  on 
account  of  its  present  resting-place,  as  the  Utrecht  Psalter. 
This  volume  is  filled  from  beginning  to  end  with  delicately 
drawn  pen  iUustratious,  designed  and  execufsd  with  a 
facility  which,  compared  with  the  mechanical  and  clumsy 
drawing  of  other  Continental  MSS.  of  the  period,  is  astonish- 
ing. And  these  drawings  are  of  particular  interest  for  us,' 
as  they  are  of  the  style  which  was  adopted  in  England  and 
which  gives  to  Anglo-Saxon  art  its  distinctive  aspect. 
Executed  about  the  year  800  or  early  in  the  9th  century, 
and  probably  in  the  north  of  France,  the  vohimo  was  soon 
brought  to  England,  where,  however,  MSS.  of  the  same 
kind,  it  may  be  a.ssumed,  had  long"  before  been  intro- 
duced. The  light  "  fluttering  "  outlines  of  the  drapery  and 
other  details  of  the  tlrawings  seem  to  suggest  that  the 
original  models  were  derived  directly  from  Roman  life,  and 
perhaps  partly  copied  from  sculpture;  but  those  models 
must  have  gone  through  many  modifications  before  passing 
into  the  style  of  the  drawings  of  the  Psalter.  That  the 
MS.  was  copied  from  an  older  one  there  can  be  scarcely  a 
doubt ;  and  it  is  not  impossible  that  the  original  archetype 
may  date  back  some  centuries  earlier.  May  not  MSS. 
which  St  Augustine  and  his  successors  brought  from  Rome 
have  contained  drawings  of  the  same  kind ')  This  style  of 
drawing  was,  at  all  events,  adopted  and  became  nationalized 
in  England  ;  but  it  had  there  a  rival  in  the  Irish  school  of 
ornamentation,  introduced  from  the  north  of  the  island. 
The  early  civilization  of  Ireland  placed  her  in  the  van  of  art 
development  in  these  islands.  The  wonderfully  intricate 
interlaced  designs  which  render  Irish  MSS.  of  the  7th 
and  8th  centuries  such  marvels  of  exact  worlcnianship 
derive  their  origin,  in  all  proljability,  from  the  metal- work 


of  earlier  ages.  .  Bat,  apart  from  ornamentation,  the  Irish 
miniatures  of  saints  and  evangelists  are  extraordinary  and 
grotesque  instances  of  purely  mechanical  drawing,  which 
cause  us  to  wonder  how  the  same  eyes  and  hands  which 
assisted  in  the  creation  of  such  beautiful  specimens  of  pure 
ornament  could  tolerate  such  caricatures  of  the  human 
shape.  The  explanation  is  perhaps  to  be  foimd  in  super- 
stitious regard  for  tradition.  '  This  style  of  art  was  carried 
by  the  monks  to  lona  and  thence  to  Lindisfame,  where  was 
founded  the  school  which  produced,  in  the  8th  and  9th 
centuries,  the  richly  ornamented  codices  of  Durham.  WhUe, 
then,  Byzantine  models  were  copied  on  the  Continent,  the 
free  drawing  introduced  from  the  south  and  the  intricate 
ornamentation  brought  in  from  the  north  were  practised  in 
England ;  bift  the  free  drawing,  with  its  accompanying 
decoration  copied  from  foliage,  and  gradually  developing 
into  beautiful  borders  harmoniously  coloured,  gained  the 
day,  and  lasted  dawn  to  the  time  of  the  Norman  Conquest. 
The  one  great  fault  of  this  latter  style  of  drawing  strikes 
the  ej'e  at  the  first  glance.  This  is  the  inordinate  length 
of  limb  with  which  the  human  figures  are  endowed.  But 
this  blemish  is  forgotten  when  one  comes  to  appreciate  the 
many  points  of  merit  in  the  designs. 

In  Italj',  after  a  long  period  of  inactivity,  two  very- 
different  styles'  of  decoration  of  MSS.  sprang  into  existence. 
The  first  of  these  was' that  of  the  Eombardic  school,  which 
is  distinguished  by  intricate  patterns  and  bright  colourisg. 
The  large  initial  letters  which  are  found  in  the  MSS.  of 
the  11th  and  12th  centuries,  the  best  period  of  this 
style,  are  often  a  perfect  maze  of  interlaced  bands  and  animal 
forms,  and  are  extremely  handsome  and  effective.  Figure 
drawing,  however,  seems  to  have  been  but  little  practised 
by  the  Lombardic  artists,  but  such  as  there  is  appears  on 
a  broad  scale  and  well  executed.  In  the  collections  of 
Monte  Cassino  are  some  of  the  best  examples  of  this 
school.  In  the  second  style  which  developed  in  Italy  tlie 
Byzantine  influence  is  at  first  most  marked.  Indeed, 
among  its  early  specimens  of  the  13th  century  are 
some  which  might  pass  for  the  work  of  Greek  artists.  '  But 
the  genius  of  the  Italians  soon  assimilated  the  foreign 
element,  and  produced  a  national  school  which  spread 
throughout  the  peninsula  and  afterwards  extended  its 
influence  to  southern  France  and  Spain.  It  is,  however, 
remarkable  that  in  a  country  which  produced  such  fine 
pictures  and  wall-paintings  at  an  early  date  there  is  com- 
paratively little  miniature  painting  in  cou'cemporary  !MS3. 
A  curious  and  earlj'  instance  of  this  kind  of  art  occurs 
in.  a  MS.  in  the  British  Museum,  written  and  orna- 
mented with  a  series  of  miniatures  at  Winchester,  in  the 
12th  century,  in  which  are  two  paintings  T\'hich  are 
purptxrlj^lian  and  of  more  than  ordinary  excellence. 

In'the  majority  of  the  extant  Italian  miniatures  of  the 
14th  century  the  influence  of  the  great  artists  of  the 
Florentine  school  is  manifest.  The  peculiar  treatment  oi 
flesh  tints,  painted  in  body  colour  over  a  foundation  of 
olive-green,  and  the  peculiar  vermilion  and  other  colours 
which  need  be  but  once  seen  to  be  ever  afterwards  recog- 
nized as  belonging  to  this  school,  a're  constantly  present. 
The  figures  are  generally  rather  shortened  and  the  drapery 
carried  in  straiglit  folds,  vei-y  different  characteristics  from 
the  swaying  figures  and  flowing  drapery  of  the  English  and 
French  artists  of  the  same  period.  .The  ornamentation 
which  accompanied  this  stylo  of  miniature  generally 
consi.sts  of  hoaNy  scrolls  and  foliated  or  feather-like 
pendants  from  the  initial  letters,  with  spots  of  gold  set 
here  and  there  in  the  border.  There  are  also  extant  soma 
examples  of  a  most  beautiful  kind  of  ornamentation  which 
appears  to  have  originated  in  central  Italy,  and  which 
seems  to  partake  of  the  qualities  of  both  the  styles  of 
Italian  art  of  which  we  have  been  erionkinir,  combining 


Jil  1  N   1  A   J    L'   li  E 


439 


ine  draivjau;  of  the  J^'lorentiue  school  with  a  lighter  coloui- 
•a^whicfi'inay  have  been  suggested  by  the  Lombardic. 

^Of  native  Spanish  miniature  art  little  can  be  said.  In 
the  Visigothic  MSS.  of  the  early  Middle  Ages  there  is  no 
ornament  beyond  roughly  coloured  initial  letters  and  some 
barbaric  figure  drawing.  A  little  later,  however,  we  get 
some  indication  of  national  peculiarities  in  the  MSS.  of 
the  10th,  11th,  and  12th  centuries.  Here  there  appear 
miniatures,  stiff  and  rude  in  their  drawing,  but  exhibiting 
the  unmistakable  Spanish  predilection  for  sombre  colours, 
' — dusky  reds  and  yellows  and  even  black  entering  largely 
into  the  compositions. 

iThe  materials  at  our  disposal  of  the  10th,  11th,  ana 
12th  centuries  show  the  gradual  development  in  France 
and  western  Germany  of  a  fine  free-hand  drawing  which 
was '  encouraged  by  the  proportionately  increasing  size 
of  books.  Both  in  outline  and  colour  the  fully  de- 
veloped miniatures  of  the  12th  century  are  on  a  grand 
scale ;  and  initial  letters  formed  of  scrolls  and  interlacings 
assume  the  same  proportions.  The  figure  drawing  of  this 
time  is  frequently  of  great  excellence,  the  limbs  being  well- 
proportioned  ;  care  is  also  bestowed  upon  the  arrangement 
of  the  drapery,  which  is  made  to  follow  the  shape  and.  as 
it  were,  to  cling  to  the  body. 

But  the  great  revulsion  from  the  broad  effects  and  bold 
grandeur  of  the  1 2th  century  to  the  exact  details  and  careful 
finish  of  the  13th  century  is  nowhere  more  striking  than 
in  miniature  painting  in  MSS.  With  the  opening  of  the 
new  period  we  enter  on  a  new  world  of  ideas.  Large 
books  generally  disappear  to  give  place  to  smaller  ones.; 
minute  writing  supersedes  the  large  hand ;  and  miniatures 
appear  in  circumscribed  spaces  in  the  interior  of  initial 
letters.  The  combination  of  the  miniature  mth  the  initial 
brings  it  into  close  connexion  with  the  ornamental  border, 
which  develops  pm-i  passu  with  the  growth  of  the  minia- 
ture and  by  degrees  assumes  the  same  national  and 
distinctive  characteristics.  Burnished  gold  was  now  also 
freely  used,  tending  to  give  the  miniature  a  more  decorative 
character  than  formerly.  In  England,  northern  France, 
and  the  Netherlands  the  style  of  miniature  jjainting  of 
this  period  was  much  the  same  in  character ;  and  it  is 
often  difficult  to  decide  from  which  of  these  countries  a 
MS.  is  derived.  English  work,  however,  may  be  often 
distinguished  by  its  lighter  colouring,  while  deeper  and 
more  brilliant  hues  and  a  peculiar  reddish  or  copper  tinge 
in  the  gold  marks  French  origin.  The  drawing  of  the 
Flemish  artists  was  scarcely  so  good,  the  outlines  being 
frequently  heavy  and  the  colours  rather  dull.  Of  the 
Rhenish  or  Cologne  school  examples  are  more  scarce ;  but 
they  generally  show  greater  contrasts  in  the  colours, 
which,  tlioi\gh  brilliant,  are  not  so  pleasing.  As  the 
century  advanced,  and  particidavly  at  its  close,  national 
distinctions  became  more  defined.  English  artists  paid 
more  attention  to  gracefid  drawing  and  depended  less 
upon  colour.  In  some  of  their-  best  productio^is  they  are 
satisfied  with  slightly  tinting  the  figures,  finding  room  in 
the  backgrounds  for  display  of  bi iUiant  colours  and  gilding. 
In  France  the  drawing,  though  exact,  is  hardly  so  graceful, 
and  colour  plays  a  more  important  part.  ■  From  the  13th 
to  the  middle  of  the  loth  century  great  decorative  effect 
is  obtained  by  the  introduction  of  diapered  or  other  highljre 
ornamented  backgrounds.  '  Of  landscape,  properly  so  called, 
there  is  but  little,  a  conventional  hill  or  tree  being  often 
taken  as  sufficient  indication.  Borders  begin  in  the  13th 
"cntury  in  ;lic  form  of  simple  pendants  from  the  initial 
•fetters,  terminating  in  simple  buds  or  cusps. '=  But  once 
arrived  f.iiiiy  in  tlie  Uth  century,  a  rapid  development  in 
all  parts  of  the  decoration  of  ilSS.  takes  place.     There  is 

"icatcr^freedom  in  the  drawing;  the  borders  begin  to  throw 
onrmanches  and  the  bud  expands  into  leaf,  t  This  is  the  best 


peri'jd  of  English  miniature  painting,  many  of  the  fine  MSS. 
of  this  century  which  are  preserved  in  the  public  libraries 
bearing  witness  to  the  skill  and  delicate  touch  of  native 
artists.  In  France  the  decoration  of  JISS.  received  a  great 
impetus  from  the  patronage  of  King  John  and  Charles  V., 
of  whose  famous  libraries  many  handsome  volumes  are  still 
to  be  seen;  and  later  in  the  century  the  duke  of  Bern 
carried  on  the  same  good  work. 

With  regard  to  miniature  art  in  Germany  there  are  so 
few  examples  to  guide  us  that  little  can  be  said.  Most  of 
them  are  rough  in  both  drawing  and  colouring ;  and  in 
the  few  remaining  specimens  of  really  good  work  foreign 
influence  is  distinctly  seen.  In  the  west  the  art  of  France 
and  Flanders,  and  in  the  south  that  of  Italy,  are  pre- 
dominant. Perhaps  the  finest  JIS.  of  this  southern  style 
to  be  seen  in  England  is  a  Fsalter  belonging  to 
Lord  Ashburnham,  which  was  probably  executed  in  the 
Hth  century  at  Prague,  and  is  full  of  miniatures  which 
in  drawing  and  colouring  follow  the  Italian  school. 

When  ve  enter  the  15th  century  we  find  great  changes 
in  both  the  great  English  and  French  schools.  In 
England  the  graceful  drawing  of  the  previous  century  has 
disappeared.  At  first,  however,  some  beautiful  examples  of 
purely  native  work  were  produced,  and  still  remain  to  excite 
our  admiration.  Probably  the  most  perfect  of  these  JISS. 
are  the  Sherborne  Missal  belonging  to  the  duke  of  Nortli- 
umberland,  and  a  very  beautiful  volume,  a  Book  of  Hour.s, 
in  the  library  of  Lord  Ashburnham.  The  care  bestowed 
upon  the  modelling  of  the  features  is  particularly.noticeable 
in  English  work  of  this  period.  In  decoration  the  border 
of  the  l-tth  century  had  by  this  time  grown  to  a  solid  frame 
surrounding  the  page ;  but  now  another  form  of  most  effec- 
tive ornament  was  also  used,  consisting  of  twisted  feather- 
like scrolls  brightly  coloured  and  gilt.  As  the  century 
advanced  native  English  work  died  out,  and  French  and 
then  Flemish  influence  stepped  in. 

In  France  immense  activity  was  shown  all  through  the 
loth  century  in  the  illumination  and  illustration  of  books 
of  all  kinds,  sacred  and  profane ;  and  it  is  in  the  MSS. 
of  that  country,  and,  a  httle  later,  in  those  of  the  Low 
Countries,  that  we  can  most  exactly  watch  the  transition 
from  mediaeval  to  modern  painting.  Early  in  the  century 
there  were  executed  in  France  some  of  the  most  famous 
MSS.  which  have  descended  to  us.  In  these  the  co/ourtng 
is  most  brilliant,  the  figure  drawing  fairly  exact;  and  the 
landscape  begins  to  develop.  The  border  has  grown  from 
the  branching  pendant  to  a  framevork  of  golden  sprays  or 
of  conventional  and  realistic  leafage  and  flowers.  Towards 
the  middle  of  the  century  the  diaper  disappears  for  ever, 
and  the  landscape  is  a  recognized  part  of  the  miniature ; 
but  perspective  is  still  at  fault,  and  the  mystery  of  the 
horizon  is  not  solved  until  the  centivy  is  well  advanced. 
And  now  Flemish  art,  whi^ji  had  long  lain  dormant,  sprang 
into  rivalry  with  its  French  sister,  under  the  stimulus  given 
to  it  by  the  Van  Eycks,  and  the  struggle  was  carried  on, 
but  unequally,  through  the  rest  of  the  century.  Fi'ench 
art  gradually  deteriorates ;  the  miniatures  become  flat  and 
hard ;  nor  are  these  defects  compensated  for  by  the 
meretricious  practice  of  heightening  the  colours  by  pro- 
fusely touching  them  with  gold.  The  Flemish  artists,  on 
the  other  hand,  went  on  improving  in  depth  and  softness 
of  colouring,  and  brought  miniature  painting  to  rare  perfec- 
tion. The  borders  also  which  they  introduced  gave  scope 
for  the  study  of  natural  objects.  Flowers,  insects,  birds, 
and  jewels  were  painted  in  detached  groups  on'  a  solid 
framework  of  colour  surrounding  the  page. 

But  if,  as  t!ie  1 5th  century  drew  to  its  close,  the  Flemings 
had  outstripped  their  French  rivals,  they  had  now  more 
powerful  antagonists  to  contend  with._..^The  ItaUans  had 
been.advancing  jivith  rapid  strides  towards  .the  glories  o£ 


440 


M  I  N— M  I  N 


the  Renaissance.  Early  in  the  century  there  arose  a  taste 
tor  older  models.  As,  for  their  writing  and  a"fterwards 
for  their  printing,  they  went  back  to  the  11th  and  12tli 
centuries  for  their  standards,  so  they  adopted  again  the 
interlacing  designs  of  the  Lorabardic  school  for  their  omar 
ment,  and  produced  beautiful  borders  of  twining  patterns 
relieved  by  colour ;  or  they  took  natural  objects  for  their 
models,  and  painted  borders  of  delicate  flowers  made  still 
more  brilliant  with  clustering  stars  of  gold.  Later,  they 
drew  from  the  ancient  classical  designs  inspiration  for  the 
wonderful  borders  of  arabesques,  medallions,  grifiins,  human 
forms,  antique  objects,  <fec.,  which  they  brought  to  such 
perfection  early  in  the  next  century.  Their  miniatures 
rose  to  the  rank  of  exquisitely  finished  pictures,  and  were 
executed  by  some  of  the  best  artists  working  under  the 
patronage  of  such  great  houses  as  those  of  Sforza  and 
Medici. 

Here  then,  having  advanced  to  the  threshold  of  the 
domain  of  modem  painting,  we  leave  these  two  great 
schools  of  miniaturists  in  possession  of  the  west  of  Europe. 
The  Flemings  had  the  wider  field  j  they  were  wanderers 


from  home ;  and  their  works  are  scattered  through  mtvij 
lands,  from  England  in  the  north  to  Spain  in  the  south. 
But  Italian  art  had  greater  inherent  strength,  and  will 
always  hold  the  first  rank.  To  instance  a  few  of  the  more 
famous  MSS.  of  this  closing  period  of  miniatvire  painting : 
the  Breviary  of  Isabella  the  Catholic,  in  the  British 
Museum,  is  a  masterpiece,  of  Flemish  art  produced  In 
Spain ;  the  Grimani  Breviary  at  Venice  is  another  fine 
example  of  the  same  school.  Some  beautiful  Italian 
miniatures  (executed  for  Leo  X.  and  others)  were  in  the 
collection  lately  sold  by  the  duke  of  Hamilton.  The  earl 
of  Ashburnham  possesses  a  most  delicately  illuminated 
Book  of  Hours  written  for  Lorenzo  dei  Medici'  by  the 
famous  scribe  Sinibaldo  in  1485,  as  well  as  a  MS.  to  which. 
Perugino  and  his  contemporaries  contributed  paintings. 
And  in  one  MS.,  a  Book  of  Hours  belonging  to  Mr  Malcolm 
of  Poltalloch,  are  gathered  some  of  the  best  miniatures 
of  both  schools,  viz.,  a  series  of  exquisite  paintings  by 
Milanese  artists  supplemented  by  later  ones  of  the  finest 
Flemish  type.  (e.  m.  t.) 

MINIMS.      See  Trahcis  (St)  of  Paola,  toL  ix.  p.  605. 


MINING 


THE  art  of  mining  consists  of  those  processes  by  which 
ixsefiJ  minerals  are  obtained  from  the  earth's  crust. 
This  definition  is  ■nider  than  what  is  popularly  known  as 
mining,  for  it  includes  not  only  underground  excavations 
but  also  open  workings ;  at  the  same  time  it  excludes  under- 
ground workings  which  are  simpfy  used  for  passages,  such 
as  railway  tunnels  and  sewers,  and  galleries  for  military 
purposes.  We  must  remark  also  that  the  word  "  mine,"  or 
its  equivalent  in  other  languages,  varies  in  signification  in 
different  countries  on  account  of '  legal  enactments  or 
decisions  which  define  it.  Thus,  in  France  and  Belgium, 
the  workings  for  mineral  are  classified  by  the  law  of  1810, 
according  to  the  nature  of  the  substance  wrought,  into 
mines,  ininieres,  et  carrieres.  In  the  United  Kingdom,  on 
the  contrary,  it  is  the  nature  of  the  excavation  which 
decides  the  question  for  certain  legislative  purposes,  and 
the  term  mine  is  restricted  to  worldngs  which  are  carried 
on  underground  by  artificial  light.  The  consequence  is 
that  what  is  merely  an  underground  st£)ne  quarry  in 
France  becomes  a  true  mine  in  England,  whilst  the  open 
workings  for  iron  ore,  such  as  exist  in  Northampton- 
shire, would  be  true  mines  uniler  the  French  law.  It  is 
necessary,  therefore,  in  an  article  on  mining,  to  go  beyond 
the  English  legal  definition  of  a  mine,,  and  include  the 
methods  of  working  minerals  in  excavations  open  to  day- 
light as  well  as  in  those  which  are  purely  subterracsan.. 
Furthermore,  as  it  is  customary  for  the  miner  to  cleanse 
his  ore  to  a  greater  or  less  extent  before  selling  it  to  the 
smelter,  we  shall  treat,  under  the  head  of  mining,  those 
processes  which  are  conunonly  known  as  the  dressing  or 
mechanical  preparation  of  ores ;  and,  finally,  a  few  remarks 
will  be  made  concerning  legislation  affecting  mines  in  the 
United  Kingdom,  accidents  in  mines,  and  the  production 
of  the  useful  minerals  in  various  parts  of  the  globe. 
The  subject  therefore  will  be  dealt  with  as  follows : — 

1.  Manner  in  which  the  useful  minerals  occur  in  the 
earth's  crust,  viz.,  tabular  deposits  and  masses ;  faults  or 
dislocations. 

2.  Prospecting,  or  search  for  mineral. 

3.  Boring  with  rods  an^l  ropes ;  diarnond  drill. 

4.  Breaking  ground ;  tools  employed ;  blasting  by  vari- 
ous methods ;  machine  drills ;  driving  leveb'  and  sinking 
shafts." 

5.  Principles  of  employment  of  mining  labour. 

6.  Means  of  securing  excavations  by  timber  or  masonry. 


7.  Exploitation,  or  the  working  away  of  strata  or  veins, 

8.  Carriage  or  transport  of  minerals  through  under- 
ground roads. 

9.  Winding,  or  raising- in  the  shafts,  with  the  machinery 
and  apparatus  required. 

10.  Drainage  of  mines,  adit-levels,  pumps,  pumping^ 
engines.  "^ 

it.  Ventilation  and  lighting  of  mines. 
12;  Means   of    descending    into    and  ascending  from 
mines. 

13.  IJressing  or  mechanical  preparation  of  minerals. 

14.  Recent  legislation  affecting  mines  in  the  United 
Kingdom. 

15.  Accidents  in  mines. 

16.  Useful  minerals  produced  in  various  parts  of  the 
globe. 

1.  Manner  in  which  the  Useful  Minerals  Occur. — The 
repositories  of  the  useful  minera!s  may  be  classified  accord- 
ing to  their  shape  as  (A)  tabular  deposits,  and  (B)  masses. 

A.  Tabular  Deposits. — These  are  deposits  which  have  8 
more  or  less  flattened  or  sheet-like  form.  They  may  be 
divided,  according  to  their  origin,  into  (\)  beds  or  strata, 
and  (2)  mineral  veins  or  lodes. 

(1)  Beds. — Geology  teaches  us  that  a  large  proportion  stnrtia* 
of  the  rocks  met  with  at  the  surface  of  the  earth  consist  deposit!. 
of  .substances  arranged  in  distinct  layers,  owing  to  the  fact 
that  these  rocks  have  been  formed  at  the  bottom  of  seas, 
lakes,  or  rivers  by  the  gradual  deposition  of  sediment,  by 
precipitation  from  solutions,  and  by  the  growth  or  accumu- 
lation of  animal  and  vegetable  organisms.  If  any  one  of 
these  layers  consists  of  a  useful  mineral,  or  contains  enough 
to  make  it  valuable,  we  say  that  we  have  a  deposit  in  the 
form  of  a  bed,  stratum,  or  seam.  Of  course  the  most 
important  of  all  bedded  or  stratified  deposits  is  coal,  but, 
in  addition,  wo  have  beds  of  anthracite,  lignite,  iron  ore, 
especially  iu  the  Oolitic  rocks,  cupriferous  shale,  lead- 
bearing  sandstone,  silver-bearing  sandstone,  diamond-, 
gold-,  and  tin-bearing  gravels,  to  say  nothing  of  sulphur, 
rock-salt,  clays,  various  kinds  of  stone,  such  as  limestone 
and  gypsum,  oil-shale,  alum-shalo,  and  slate. 

The  characteristic  feature  of  a  bed  is  that  it  is  a  member 
of  a  series  of  stratified  rocks ;  the  layer  above  it  is  called 
the  roof  oi  the  deposit,  and  the  one  below  it  is  the  ^/ooa 
Its  thickness  is  the  distance  from  the  roof  to  the  floor  at 
right  angles  to  the  plunes  of  stratification ;  its  dip  is  tho 


I  N  I  N  G 


441 


inclination!  downwards  measured  from  tie  horizontal;  its 
strike  is  the  direction  of  a  horizontal  line  drawn  in  the 
middle  plane. 

The  thickness  of  beds  that  are  worked  varies  within 
very  wide  limits.  •  Whilst  the  thickness  of  certain  workable 
beds  of  coal  is  only  1  foot,  and  that  of  the  Mansfeld 
cupriferous  shale  only  10  to  20  inches,  we  find  on  the 
other  hand  one  of  the  beds  of  lead-bearing  sandstone  at 
Mechernich  no  less  than  86  feet  thick,  and  beds  of  slate 
far  exceeding  that  thickness.  It-  must  not  be  supposed, 
however,  that  the  thickness  of  a  bed  necessarOy  remains 
uniform.  Occasionally  this  is  the  case  over  a  very  large 
area ;  but  frequently  the  thickness  varies,  and  the  bed  may 
dwindle  away  gradually,  or  in-  ^ 
crease  in  size,  or  become  divided 
into  two  owing  to  the  appearance 
of  a  parting  of  valueless  rock. 
Fig.  1  shows  beds  of  shale,  lime- 
stone, iron  ore,  and  sandstone. 
Any  one  of  these  beds  may  be 
valuable  enough  to  be  worked.  Fig.  1. 

I  (2)  Mineral  Veins  or  Lodes. — Veins  or  lodes  are  tabular 
or  sheet- like  deposits  of  mineral  which  have  been  formed 
since  the  rocks  by  which  they  are  surrounded ;  they  differ, 
therefore,  by  their  subsequent  origin  from  beds,  which,  as 
jugt  stated,  are  of  contemporaneous  origin  with  the  enclos- 
ing rocks  (although  of  course  cases  occur  in  which  the 
deposit  is  lying  uuconformably  upon  very  much  older 
strata,  or  is  covered  uuconformably  by  very  much  younger 
strata).  It  is  necessary  to  explain  that  the  term  ".vein" 
in  this  definition  ii  used  in  a  more  restricted  sense  than  is 
sometimes  customary  among  miners,  who  speak  of  veins 
of  coal,  clay-ironstone,  and  slate,  which  geologically  are 
true  beds.  They  see  a  band  of  valuable  mineral  or  rock, 
and,  careless  of  its  origin,  call  it  metaphorically  a  vein  or 
seam.  On  the  other  hand,  the  definition  is  broader  than 
that  which  prevails  among  some  geologists,  who  would 
confine  the  term  vein  to  deposits  occupying  spaces  formed 
by  fissures. 

The  term  "  lode  "  was  defined  itf  1877  by  Mr  Justice  Field  in  the 
celebrated  Eureka  ti.  Richmond  cx'ie  as  follows; — "We  are  ,of  opinion, 
therefore,  that  the  term,  as  used  in  the  Acts  of  Congress,  is  applic- 
able to  any  zone  or  belt  of  mineralized  rock  lying  within  bound- 
aries clearly  separating  it  from  the  neighbouring  rocks."  This, 
interpretation  seems  suitable  for  the  peculiar  mining  tenure  of  the 
TTnited  States,  where  the  discoverer  of  a  vein  or  lode  can  obtain 
a  mining  claim  of  600  yards  in  length  along  the  lode.  It  protects 
the  prospector,  whose  object  is  to  obtain  a  secure  title,  the  mode  of 
origin  of  the  deposit  being  a  matter  of  small  importance  to  him  so  long 
as  it  is  worth  working.  In  many  cases  also  it  would  be  impossible 
to  decide  upon  the  mode  of  origin  until  workings  had  progressed 
considerably,  and  even  then  there  would  be  room  for  disputes. 

No  doubt  a  very  large  number  of  mineral  veins  are 
simply  the  contents  of  fissures ;  others  are  bands  of  rock 
impregnated  with  ore  adjacent  to  fissures  or  planes  of 
separation ;  others,  again,  have  been  formed  by  the  more 
or  less  complete  replacement  of  the  constituents  of  the 
original  rock  by  particles  of  ore. 

Veins  may  occur  in  igneous  or  in  sedimentary  rocks, 
and  in  the  latter  they  frequently  cut  across  the  planes  of 
stratification. 

Like  a  bed,  a  vein  has  its  dip  and  strike ;  but,  as  the  dip  of  veins 
is  generally  great,  the  inclination  is  usually  measured  from  the 
vertical,  and  is  then  spoken  of  as  the  underlie  or  hade.  The 
bounding  planes  of  a  vein  are  called  the  walls  or  cheeks,  and  they 
ere  frequently  smooth  and  striated,  sho\ring  that  one  side  must  have 
•lid  against  the  other.  The  upper  wall  is  known  as  the  Hanging 
vail,  the  lower  one  as  the  fool  wall.  The  width  of  a  vein  is 
measured  at  right  angles  to  the  walls. 

*  A  typical  example  of  a  fissure-vein  is  shown  in  fig.  2,  repre- 
senting a  lead  lode  in  slate  at  Wheal  Mary  Ann  mine'  in  Cornwall. 

'  0.  Le  Neve  Foster,  ' '  RemorlvS  on  the  Lode  at  Wheal  Mary  Ann, 
Menheniot,"  Tra-ns.  Roy.  Geol.  Soc.  Cornwall,  vol.  is.  p.  153. 


It  is  evident  that  a  fisature  in  ths  aniTounding  sUte  has  here  been 
aued  np  by  the  successive  deposition  of  banda  of  mineral  on  both 
Slues. 

A  large  proportion  of  the  contents  of  a  lode  may  consist  of 
fragments  of  the  vi;alU  that  have  faUen  into  the  original  fissure,  and 
these  are  often  tightly  cemented  ■ 
together  by  minerals  that  have  I 
been  introduced  subsequently.  TSe  I 
horizontal  section  of  part  of  the  i 
Comstock  lode-  (Plate  IV.)  shows  j 
much  "country"  rock  enclosed; 
within  the  walls. 

Where  a  lode  consists  of  rock  '• 
impregnated  with  ore,  the  mineral- 
iiiea  part  may  fade  away  gradually 
into  the  surrounding  rock(aiu7i(ry) 
without  there  being  any  distinct  „  _ 

wall,  as  shown  in  tig.  3,  which  is  an  illustration"  taken  from  the 
(jreat  i  iat  Lode-'  near  Redruth  in  Cornwall. 
_   The  celebrated  Ruby  Hill  deposit  in  the  Eureka  district,  Nevada 
13  a  mineralized  zone  of  dolo-  ' 

mitic  limestone  varying  in 
width  from  a  few  inches  to  ..  -'■.)i,--b>;™j 
4S0  feet,  and  having  a  mean  "iV j)#^'«*«x 
width  of  250  feet.     It  con-  <,.J>;''' 
tains  numerous  irregular  ore-  ^ »-  "*  \ 
bodies,  which  consist  mainly  •>-*<  >-,*   '■y-v*-(i 
of   highly    ferruginous    car-  ciiANtTr. 

bonate  of  lead,  rich  in  s,ilver 
and  gold.     This  mineralized 

limestone  band,  long  called  Fig.  3. 

a  lode  by  miners,  has  been  determined  by  the  decision  just  men- 
tioned to  be  a  lode  in  the  eyes  of  the  law. 

Yeins  often  continue  for  a  great  distance  along  their  strike.  The 
Van  lode  in  Montgomeryshii-e  is  known  for  a:  length  of  9  miles, 
whilst  the  Great  Quartz  Vein  in  California  has  been  traced  for  a 
distance  of  no  less  than  80  miles.  Veins  are  of  less  uniform  pro- 
ductiveness than  beds,  and  are  rarely  worth  working  througliput. 
Rich  portions  alternate  with  poor  or  worthless  portions.  The  rich 
parts  have  received  various  names  according  to  the  foi-ms  they 
assume  :  fi^.  4  represents  a 
longitudinal  section  along  the  ■ 
strike  {coitrse)  of  a  lode,  and  ,  ^-"'^  ''''^"'.y^.;----?^'^^^ 
the  stippled  parts  are  ore-     ^  *   "" 


bodies;  B, B,B are {wncAss;  A  '"  .'Sfr 
is  a  large  bimch  or  course  of 
ore ;  when  an  ore-body  forms 
a  sort  of  continuous  column 
we  have  a  sJioot,  and  ore- 
bodies  which  on  being  ex- 
cavated   leave    chimney-like 


Fig.  4. 


openings  are  called  pipes  (fitj.  4,  C).  In  the  United  States  the' 
Spanish  word  toianza,  literally  meaning  "fair  weather"  or  "pro- 
sperity," is  frequently  used  for  a  rich  body  of  ore. 

The  richness  of  veins  is  dependent  in  many  cases  upon  the  nature 
of  the  adjacent  rock  (conntry),  upon  the  underlie,  and  upon  the 
strike,  variations  in  any  one  of  these  three  elements  being  often 
sufficient  to  cause  a  decided  change  of  productiveness. 

Various  theories  have  been  forraecf  concerning  the  origin  of 
mineral  veins.  Some  geologists  suppose  that  the  minerula  now 
constituting  the  veins  have  been  dissolved  out  of  the  adjacent  rocks 
and  re-deposited  in  the  vein  cavity ;  others,  on  the  contrary,  believe 
that  the  ores  have  been  brought  up  from  great  depths  by  mineral 
springs.  In  all  probability  both  theories  are  correct,  some  lodes 
having  been  formed  by  the  former  process  and  some  by  the  latter ; 
and,  furthermore,  other  lodes  appear  to  owe  their  origin  to  a  gradual 
substitution  of  valuable  minerals  in  the  place  of  some  of  the  con- 
stituents of  a  worthless  rock.  One  of  the  most  important  con- 
tributions to  the  science  of  ore-deposits  of  late  years  has  been 
the  discovery  by  Professor  F.  Sandberger  of  small  quantities  of 
silver,  lead,  copper,  nickel,  cobalt,  bismuth,  arsenic,  antimony, 
and  tin'in  silicates,  such  as  olivine,  angite,  hornblende,  and  mica, 
which  are  constituents  of  igneous  rocks.  He  therefore  regards 
these  rocks  as  the  sources  from  which  lodes  have  derived  their 
riches. 

B.  Masses. — These   are  deposits  of   mineral,    often   of  Mosses, 
irregular  shapes,  which  cannot  be  distinctly  recognized  as 
beds  or  veins.     Such,  for  instance,  are  the  red  hematite 


'  James  D.  Hague,  in  United  Slates  Geological  Exploration  of  the 
Fortieth  Parallel,  vol.  iii.,  "Minliig  Industry,"  Washington,  1870, 
Atlas,  plate  11. 

3  C.  Le  Neve  Foster,  "On  the  Great  Flat  Lode  south  of  Red> 
ruth  and  Camborne,  and  on  some  other  Tin  Deposits  formed  by 
the  Alteration  of  Granite,"  Quart.  Jour.  Oeol.  Soc,  vol.  ixiiv.  p. 
644. 


]i;— 17^ 


442 


MINING 


[PKOSPBOTINO,- 


deposits  of  (.he  TJlveraton  district  (fig.  5')  and  the  brown 
hsematite  deposits  {chums),  of  the  Forest  of  Dean,  which 


f\Q.  6.--Vertical  Section,  Roauhead  Mid«     A,  Moontain  Limestone ; 

B,  red  hematite  ,  C,  sand  and  clay,  D,  gravel      Seals  ^^i^. 
occupy  irregular  cavities  in  the  Mountain  Limestone.   These 
may  have  been  formed  by  the  percolation  of  water  bring- 
ing dovm  iron  in  solution .  from  overlying  Triassic  rocks. 
Other    examples    of    masses 
are  the  calamine  deposits  of 
Altenberg^  (fig.  6),  Sardinia, 

and  Lombardy,  the  iron  ore  </af^.\ll|)|||l''f=^---\l;  lig;:!^^ 
deposits  in  Missouri,  such  ^^^fl  |  Wii=5J|j§^^^^ 
as  Iron  Mountain  and  Pilot  ^^iJ^^!ll||'j|)^^^|l||^^^^ 
Knob      the      huge     upright  j,„    e.-VertlcJi^tionl  Allen- 

necks      or  "  pipes     of  dia-     bei-g.     B,  elate  ;   d,  dolomite ; 
mantiferous   rock    in    South     C,  calamine  ;  L,  clay. 
Africa,  and   the  granite  decomposed  in  situ  worked  for 
china  clay  in  CoruwaU. 

Under  this  head  also  are  included  by  most  authors  the 
so-called  "  stockworks "  or  "  reticulated  masses,"  names 
applied  to  masses  of  sedimentary  or  igneous  rock  which 
are  penetrated  by  so  many  little  mineral  veins  as  to  make 
the  whole  worth  excavating. 

It  must  be  understood  that  we  ca'lmet  e3r.«ct  nature  to  make 
distinct  lines  of  demarcation  between  the  different  kinds  of 
deposits.  Though  we  may  be  able  to  see  clearly  that  a  seam  ot 
coal  is  contemporaneous  with  the  enclosing  rocks,  and  that  a  vein 
intersecting  beds  of  shale  and  sandstone  was  formed  subsequently, 
cases  frequently  occur  where  the  origin  of  the  mineral  is  uncertain. 
For  example,  we  have  the  lead-bearing  sandstone  ofMechernidiand 
the  silver-bearing  sandstone  of  Utah.  The  grains  of  sand  are  of 
sedimentary  origin  ;  but  opinions  differ  as  to  whether  the  lead  and " 
silver  respectively  were  deposited  with  the  sand  or  were  introduced 
subsequently  by  solutions  percolating  through  the  beds.  In  the 
case  of  the  well-known  bed  of  Cleveland  ironstone,  Dr  Sorby 
considers  that  the  iron  was  "derived  partly  from  mechanical 
deposition  and  partly  from  subsequent  chemical  replacement  of 
the  originally  deposited  carbonate  of  lime."  ^  Furthermore,  a  bed 
may  be  so  folded  and.contracted  as  to  lose  itj  original  sheet-like 
form  in  places  and  assume  the  shape  of  au  irregular  mass.  This 
may  happen  even  with  a  coal  seam.^ 

AU  kinds  of  deposits  are  subject  not  only  to  irregularities  of 
origin  dependent  upon  their  mode  of  formation  but  also  to  dislo- 
cations or  shiftings  known  as  faults,  heaves,  or  throws. 

We  iviU  take  the  case  of  a  bed  (fig.  7).  AB  is  a  seam  which  ends 
off  suddenly  at  B,  whilst  the  continuation  is  found  at  a  lower  level 
St  CD.  The  bed  was  evidently  once  continuous  ;  but  a  fracture  took 
place  along  the  line  XY  foUowetl  by  a  displacement.     As  a  rule 


Fig.  7.  Fig.  8. 

the  portion  of  rock  on  the  hanging-wall  side  of  a  fault  appears  to 
have  slid  downwards,  but  occasionally  this  is  not  so,  and  wo  have  a 
reversed  fault  (fig.  8).  It  is  very  evident,  in  some  cases,  that  the 
motion  took  place,  not  along  the  line  of  greatest  dip,  but  in  a  dia- 


*  Ft^  Moritz  WolfT,  "  Beschreibung  der  Rotheisenerzlagerstattoa 
von  West  Cumberland  und  North  Lancashire,"  Slahl  und  £isen,  2 
•Tahrgang,  No.  12,  plate  vL 

^  *  M.  Braun,  Zcitscfi/r.  d.  d.  geol.  Oesdhch.y  1857,  vol.  ix. ;  and  A. 
7on  Groddeck,  Dit  Lehre  von  den  LagersUUten  der  Erie,  Leipsic, 
1879,  p.  232. 

'  Qitart,  Jour.  Oeol.  JSoc,  vol.  xxzv,  (1879),  p.  85,  Anniversary 
Address  of  the  President. 

'  J.  Callon,  Lectures  on  Mining,  vol.  i.  p.  03,  and  Atlas,  plate 
viii.  fig.  44. 


gonal  direction,  causing  a  displacement  sideways  as  well  as  down- 
wards. Nevertheless,  where  beds  or  veins  are  not  horizontal,  a  men 
shift  along  the  line  of  dip  is  sufficient  to  cause  an  apparent  heave 


Let  AB  and  CD 


sideways.  This  will  be  understood  from 
represent  two  portions  of  a  lode  dislo- 
cated by  the  fault  EF.  The  point  B' 
corresponded  originally  with  B,  and 
the  dislocation  was  caused  by  a  simple 
eliding  of  B'  along  the  line  of  dip  BB'. 
An  instance  of  the  complication  caused 
by  a  succession  of  faults  is  shown  in 
fig.  10. » 

2.   Prospecting^    or   Search  for 
Mineral.-rThe  object  cf  the  pro 
spector  is  to  discover  valuable  rteposits  of  mineral.     This 
search  is  beset  with  many  difficulties :  the  outcrops  of 


ProsptA 


Fia.  10.— Vertical  Section,  PenhaUa  Mine,  Cornwall.    G,  G,  G,  small 
veins  called  gossans  in  the  St  Agnes  district. 

mineral  deposits  are  frequently  hidden  by  soil;  the  nature 
of  the  deposit  itself  is  generally  entirely  changed  near  ibt 
surface;  and,  in  addition  to  this,  the  explore.'  may  have 
to  pursue  his  work  in  trackless  forests  far  away  from  any 
settlements. 

The  prospector  seeks  for  natural  sections  of  the  rocks, 
such .  as  occur  in  cliffs  or  in  river  valleys  and  their  tributary 
gullies  and  gorges  ;  he  examines  the  materials  constituting 
the  river-beds,  often  digging  up  and  washing  portions  in  a 
pan,  in  order  to  ascertain  whether  they  contain  traces  of 
the  heavy  ores  or  metals.  If,  while  prospecting  in  a  valley, 
ho  discovers  stones  that  have  the  appearance  of  having  onca 
belonged  to  veins,  he  endeavours  to  trace  them  to  their 
source,  and  is  perhaps  rewarded  by  finding  similar  frag- 
ments, but  less  water-worn,  as  he  goes  up  the  stream ; 
further  on  he  may  come  upon  large  blocks  of  veinstufE 
lying  about,  and  -finally  find  the  vein  itself  laid  bare  in  a 
gorge,  or  at  the  bottom  of  a  brook,  or  possibly  projecting 
above  the  sod  in  the  form  of  huge  crags  of  quartz.  Thus 
at  the  Great  Western  quicksilver  mine  in  California  the 
outcrop  of  the  vein  appears  as  a  dike  over  100  feet  wide, 
and  having  precipitous  sides  in  places'75  feet'high.^  Loose 
pieces  of  veinstuff  found  lying  about  are  known  in 
Cornwall  as  shoad-stonos,  and  shoading  is  the  term  given 
to  the  process  of  tracking  them  to  the  parent  lode. 

The  upper  portion  of  a  deposit  is  frequently  much  altered  by 
atmospheric  agencies,  and  bears  little  resemblance  to  tho  undecom- 
posed  bed  or  vein  which  will  eventually  be  mot  with  at  a  greater 
or  lessor  depth.  The  principal  difference  consists  in  tho  change  of 
sulphides  into  ojddes  or  oxidised  compounds.  Thus  iron  pyrites, 
which  is  such  a  common  constituent  of  mineral  veins,  is  converted 
into  hydratcd  oxide  of  iron,  and  a  vein  originally  consisting  largely 
of  iron  pyrites  and  quartz  now  becomes  a  cindcry  mixture  of  cjuartat 
and  ocliro,  known  in  Cornwall  as  gossan.  This  gossan,  of  iro» 
hat,  may  often  furnish  important  indications  concerning  the  natura 
of  tho  lode  itself,  because  such  minerals  as  pyromorphito  or  ccrus- 
site  point  to  the  existence  of  galena,  whilst  melaconite,  cuprite, 
malachite,  and  azurita  are  th«  forerunners  of  chalcopj-rite  or  copper 
glance.  The  gossan  itself  may  contain  a  suflicient  quantity  of  valu- 
able ores  to  be  worth  working. 

The  seams  containing  native  sulphur  in  Sicily  often  show  no  trace 
of  that  clement  immediately  at  the  surface,  as  the  8ujphur-be.ar- 
ing  liincstono  weathers  into  a  soft  white  granular  or  pulverulent 


'  J.  W.  Pike,  "  On  some  remarkable  hea\fs  or  UrouK  in  PenhaUs 
Mine,"  Quart.  Jour.  Qcot.  Soc. ,  vol.  xxii.  p.  537. 

'  Luther  Wagoner,  "  Tho  Geology  of  tho  Quicksilver  Jlinos  of  Cali- 
fornia," Engineering  and  Jfiiiit.j  Journal,  vol.  ucxiv.  p.  334. 


BOUXNO.] 


MINING 


443 


Saring. 


Boring 

Trith 

rods. 


variety  of  gypsum,  called  hriscaU  by  the  miners,  and  considered 
by  tbem  as  aifording  important  indications  concerning  the  bed 
itsell^ 

I  Other  signs  of  mineral  deposits  are  given  by  springs  and  by 
certain  plants  dependent  upon  the  depofiit  or  its  associated  minerals 
for  part  of  their  nourishment.  The  appearance  of  the  so-caUed 
lode-lights  may  be  explained  by  the  production  of  phosphoretted 
hydrogen  from  the  action  of  organic  matter  and  water  upon  phos- 
phates, which  are  so  common  in  the  upper  parts  of  mineral  veins; 
and  one  hears  also  of  differences  in  the  appearance  of  the  vegetation 
along  the  line  of  the  deposit,  of  places  where  snow  will  not  lie  in 
winter,  and  of  vapours  hanging  over  the  ground.  Though  some 
writers  refuse  to  put  any  value  upon  these  indications,  they  should 
not  be  entirely  overlooked,  because  the  outcrop  of  a  lode,  of  different 
nature  and  texture  to  the  surrounding  rock.%  and  which  is  generally 
a  channel  for  water,  may  readily  cause  the  phenomena  just  men- 
tioned. Where  the  surface  is  cultivated  and  the  natural  springs 
are  tapped  by  adit-levels  or  other  mine-workings,  these  appearances 
cannot  be  looked  for  to  any  great  extent.  "With  one  special 
mineral,  magnetic  iron,  the  position  of  the  deposit  may  be  traced 
out  with  some  degree  of  accuracy  with  a  dipping  needle ;  this  is 
used  in  Sweden. 

After  having  acquired  an  idea  of  the  position  of  a  vein 
or  seam  by  some  of  the  surface  indications  just  mentioned, 
it  is  necessary,  before  attacking  it  by  shafts  or  levels,  to 
obtain  more  certain  data  concerning  it.  In  the  case  of 
mineral  veins,  trenches  are  dug  at  right  angles  to  the 
supposed  strike;  and,  when  the  upper  part  of  the  deposit 
has  been  cut  in  several  places,  its  general  course  and  dip 
can  be  determined  sufficiently  for  the  purpose  of  arranging 
the  future  workings.  These  trenches  are  called  "  costean 
pits";  in  some  eases,  instead  of  a  trench,  a  pit  is  sunk  a 
short  distance  and  a  little  tunnel  driven  out. 

Where  the  mineral  to  be  wrought  occurs  as  a  bed  or 
mass,  the  process  of  boring  is  resorted  to,  and  indeed  this 
method  is  also  applied  in  the  case  of  veins,  especially  in 
the  United  States.  Boring  is  a  work  of  such  importance 
'.hat  it  deserves  to  be  treated  under  a  separate  heading. 

3.  Boring  with  Rods  and  Ropes — Diamond  Drills. — The 
object  of  boring  is  to  reach  a  deposit  by  a  small  hole  and 
a.scertain  its  nature,  its  depth  from  the  surface,  thickness, 
dip,  and  strike.  Bore-holes  are  also  used  for  obtaining 
water,  brine,  and  petroleum,  which  either  rise  to  the 
surface  or  have  to  be  pumped  up  from  a  certain  depth,  and 
finally  for  tapping  water  in  old  workings  or  for  effecting 
ventilation.  The  methods  of  boring  may  be  classified  as 
follows: — (1)  boring  with  the  rod;  (2)  boring  with  the 
rope ;  (3)  boring  with  the  diamond  drilL 

In  the  first  method  tools  for  cutting  and  removing  the 
rock  are  fixed  to  rods,  which  are  lengthened  as  the  hole 
increases  in  depth,  and  which  are  worked  by  hand  or  by 
machinery  at  the  surface.  Where  the  ground  is  soft,  such 
as  sand  or  clay,  tools  like  augers  can  be  employed ;  but  in 
harder  ground  it  becomes  necessary  to  have  recourse  to 
percussion ;  various  forms  of  chisel  are  used,  the  simplest 
being  made  of  the  shape  shov.-n  in  fig.  11.^  The  rods 
generally  consist  of  bars  of  square 
iron,  from  1  inch  to  2  inches  on  the 
side.  The  length  of  each  rod  de- 
pends upon  the  height  of  the  tower, 
derrick,  or  shears  erected  above  the 
bore-hole,  which  should  be  an  exact 
multiple  of  the  individual  parts. 
These  are  made  in  lengths  of  15  to 
30  or  rarely  40  feet,  and  with  a 
suitable  tower  it  is  possible  to  de-  ^"^  "-ChiseU.  Fig.  12. 
tach  or  attach  two  or  three  lengths  at  a  time,  instead  of 
having  to  make  or  unmake  every  joint.  The  mode  of  con- 
nexion usually  preferred  is  by  a  screw  joint  as  shown  in 
fig.  12  ;  care  is  taken  to  have  all  the  joints  exactly  alike, 
so  that  any  two  bars  can  be  screwed  together.    In  order  to 


& 


■  '  torcnzo   Parodi,  Suit  EUrtaifiru  dello   Sol/o  in  Sicilia,  1873, 
yp.  7  and  24. 

•  Serlo,  Lcitfadc.i  zur  Scrgtautunde,  Berlm,  1876,  p.  o9. 


diminish  the  weight  of  the  rods,  which  becomes  consider 
able  in  deep  holes,  wood  has  sometimes  been  employed. 
The  rods  are  connected  by  male  and  female  screws  attached 
to  the  rods  by  sockets  of  sheet  iron,  or  by  a  fork-like 
arrangement.  At  the  surface  a  head  is  screwed  to  the 
uppermost  rod  by  which  the  rods  can  be  lifted,  and  they 
are  turned  by  means  of  cross-bars  called  tillers. 

When  the  depth  is  small  the  rods  are  lifted  by  hand  and  then 
allowed  to  drop,  being  turned  slightly  at  each  lift  so  that  the 
cutting  chisel  may  strike  a  new  place  each  time.  For  greater 
depths  a  lever  has  to  be  employed,  the  rods  being  suspended  at  one 
end,  whilst  the  other  end  can  be  pressed  down  by  men  using  their 
hands  or  feet.  The  spring  pole  is  another  arrangement,  in  which 
the  elasticity  of  a  long  pole  is  made  use  of  for  lifting  the  rod  at  each 
stroke.  The  length  of  the  stroke  can  be  maintained  the  same  while 
the  bore-hole  is  deepened  by  means  of  a  screw  in  a  swivel-head  at 
the  top  of  the  rod. 

With  deep  holes,  and  especially  those  of  large  diameter,  steam 
machinery  has  to  be  employed  for  working  the  rod ;  the  engine 
may  be  direct-acting  and  stand  immediately  above  the  bore-hole, 
but  a  commoner  arrangement  is  to  employ  a  single-acting  cylinder 
working  a  beam.  Occasionally  also  the  beam  is  actuated  by  a 
connecting-rod  worked  by  a  crank. 

The  actual  boring  machinery  has  now  been  described,  and  the 
mere  boring  appears  to  be  a  very  simple  matter,  consisting  only  in 
lifting  the  roa  a  little  and  allowing  it  to  drop,  the  rod  being  turned 
slightly  before  each  stroke.     Nevertheless  the  process  of  putting 
down  a  bore-hole  is  not  so  simple  as  it  seems,  for  there  are  numer- 
ous indispensable  accessory  operations  which  take  up  much  time« 
In  the  first  place  the  debris  have  to  be  removed,  and  in  order  to 
effect  this  the  rods  must  be  drawn  up,  the  swivel-head  is  discon- 
nected and  a  cap  screwed  on.  ,  A  length  of  rods  is  now  drawn  up  by 
a  hand  or  steam  windlass  and  disconnected.     It  is  well  to  have  as 
many  caps  as  there  are  lengths  to  be  drawn  up,  and  then  each  length 
can  be  suspended  in  the  house.    Sometimes  a  grip  which  catches  the 
rod  at  the  bulging  joint  is  used  instead  of  a  cap.    The  next  operation 
consists  in  lowering  by  means  of  a  rope  the  shell-pump  or 
sludger,  which  is  a  hollow  cylinder  with  a  clack  or  a  ball- 
valve  (fig.  13).     It  is  worked  up  and  down  a  little  till  it  is 
filled,  and  it  is  then  drawn  up  and  emptied  at  the  surface. 
The  operation  ii  repeated,  if  necessary,  and  the  boring  is 
resumed  with  the  rod. 

Occasionally  a  bore-hole  has  to  be  widened  slightly  with 
a  tool  called  a  reamer.     Soft  beds  may  have  to  be  bored 
through  with  a  unmble ;  and,  unless  the  rocks  are  hard  and 
firm,  the  hole  has  to  be  lined  with  a  tube,  generally  of  sheet- 
iron.     Accidents  may  occur,  causing  an  immense  amount  '^K*  y'' 
of  trouble,  such  as  the  breaking  of  rods  or  chisel,  and  many  in- 
genious implements  have  been  devised  for  seizing  the  broken  rod 
or  the  fragments,  of  tools  which  prevent  further  progress 
with  the  work. 

In  boring  at  considerable  depths,  the  weight  of  the 
rod  becomes  so  great  that  much  vibration  ensues  when 
the  mass  is  suddenly  arrested  by  the  chisel  striking 
against  the  bottom  of  the  hole.  VarioBS  devices  have 
been  conti-ived  for  overcoming  this  difficulty  and  pro- 
ducing a  tool  which  will  act  independently  of  the  rod. 
One  of  the  best-known  arrangements  is  the  free-falling 
tool  invented  by  Kind  (fig,  14).'  The  head  of  the  actual 
boring-rod  is  held  by  a  click  or  grapple ;  when  the  main 
rod  descends,  the  resistance  of  the  water  in  the  hole 
slightly  stoi>3  the  sliding  disk  D,  the  jaws  J,  J  open,  the 
head  is  disengaged,  and  the  boring  part  falls  and  strikes 
the  bottom  without  any  injurious  vibrations  being  com- 
municated to  the  main  rod.  When  this  descends  farther 
the  head  is  caught  again  by  the  click.  Special  tools  also 
are  used  for  cutting  an  annular  groove  at  the  bottom  of 
a  borehole  and  breaking  off  the  core,  which  is  then 
brought  up,  with  certain  precautions,  so  as  to  show  the 
nature  and  dip  of  the  strata  traversed. 

In  order  to  obviate  the  great  loss  of  time  which       Q       %f^ 
ensues  from  connecting  and  disconnecting  long 
lengths  of  rods,  recourse  may  be  had  to  boring 
with  the  rope.     In  this  method,  known  as  the 
Chinese  method,  the  chisel  is  worked  by  a  rope  in     *«•     • 
the  same  manner  as  the  sludger  already  described.     Messrs 
Mather  and  Piatt  of  Manchester  have  long  used  with  suc- 
cess, in  many  parts  of  England  and  various  other  countnes, 
a  system  of  boring  by  means  of  a  flat  hempen  rope. 

The  most  important  modification  of  late  year?  m  tb<» 


»  J.  Gallon,  Lectures  m  Mining,  voL  L,  Atlas,  plat^j  ix.  fig.  £2. 


444 


MINING 


[BfiEAKiNO  OnOUKD. 


ili 


iiTi-^" 


Fio.  16.— Diamond 
DrUl, 


tWnni'n'l  procoHs  of  makinf;  horo  )\oloB  ifl  the  inti'oduction  of  llio 
*•''"•  diamond  drill.  Tlio  working  part  of  tUo  drill  eoniiiiita  of 
Iho  BO-<:allod  crown,  which  is  a  Hhort  pioco  of  tuLo  nmdo  of 
cast  ijtool,  at  ono  end  of  which  o,  number  of  black  diamonds 
are  foBtuncd  into  small  cavitioa  (lig.  15). 
Tho  crown  in  Horowed  on  to  wrought- 
iron  pipoB,  which  constituto  tho  boring 
rod.  Machinery  at  the  surface  camiiv) 
tho  rod  to  rotate,  and  tho  result  is  tho 
cutting  of  an  annular  groove  at  the 
bottom  of  tho  hole,  leaving  a  core, 
which,  brcmking  off  from  time  to  time, 
is  caught  by  a  little  shoulder,  and 
brought  up  to  tho  surface  with  tho  rod.  '  \ 
In  places  where  it  is  not  necessary  to  V 
make  any  verification  of  tho  rocks  tra- 
versed, the  crown  is  arranged  with 
diamonds  in  tho  centre  also.  The 
diSbris,  in  either  ca.se,  are  washed  away  by  a  stream  of 
■water,  which  is  forced  down  the  tube  and  flows  up  tho  sides 
of  tho  hole.  With  this  system  a  bore-hole  can  bo  deepened 
continuously  at  a  speed  altogether  unattainable  by  tho 
other  methods,  which  require  stoppages  for  cleaning  out. 
It  has  the  further  advantage  of  making  it  possible  to  drill 
holes  in  any  direction  ;  and  prospecting  diamond  drills  are 
constantly  used  with  much  success  inside  many  metal  mines, 
especially  in  tho  United  States. 

Fig.  10^  shows  the  Littlo  Cham])ion  Rock-Drill, which  is  largely  em- 
ployed in  tlio  Lake  Superior  district  for  prospecting.  It  can  bo  used 
above  or  bolo'w  gi-ound.  Two  inclined  cylinders  arivo  a  horizontal 
crank  shaft,  which  works  bevel  gear,  causing  the  drill  to  revolve.  At 
the  same  time  a  countershaft  is  likewise  set  in  motion,  and  this  effects 
tho  advance  of  tho  drill  by  gearing  driving  the  feed-screw;  as  there 
are  throe  kinds  of  gearing,  the  si>eed  can  be  varied  at  pleasure.  Tho 
feed -screw  and  its  connexions  are  cai'ried  by  a  swivel-head,  and  this 
can  be  turned  so  as  to  drill  holes  at  an  angle.  The  drum  shown 
above  the  cylinders  is  used  for  hoisting  out  trie  drill-rods  by  a  rope. 
Tho  rods  aro  lap- welded  iron  tubes  1  {  mchcs  in  diameter,  fitted  with 
a  bayonet  joint. 

Another  light  portable  prospecting  drill  for  underground  work  is 


Fio.  16.— Littlo  ClKimpi 


tk-Drill.  Fig.  17. 

represented  in  fig.  17.'  It  is  intended  for  drilling  holes  1}  inches 
in  diameter  to  a  depth  of  150  feet.  The  cores  which  it  yields  are 
5  inch  in  diameter.  It  has  double  oscillating  cylinders  35  inches  in 
diameter  with  34  inches  stroke,  which  are  run  up  to  a  speed  of  800 
revolutions.  The  drill  can  bo  sot  to  bore  in  any  direction  by 
turning  the  swivel-head  on  which  it  is  carried. 

The  larger  rock-drill  used  by  tho  American  Diamond  Rock 
Boring  Company  for  putting  down  holes  to  a  depth  of  2000  foot 
consists  of  a  20  hoi-sc-powor  boiler  with  two  oscillating  6-iuch 
cylinders  and  tho   necessary  gearing   for  working  the   drill,    all 


*  Enginecnng  and  Mining  Jqut.^  vol.  xxiiii.  p.  110. 
'  Ibid.,  vol  xixin.  D.  273. 


mounted  upon  a  carriage,  iic  tJiat  tho  whole  raachiuo  is  readily 
moved  from  place  to  place.  The  feed  iu  cfTected  by  gearing  or  by 
hydraulic  pieesuroj  a  28-inch  crown  is  employed,  leaving  a  2-iuch 
core.  Each  soparato  drill'rod  is  10  feet  long.  The  total  weight  of 
the  machine  is  about  4  tons. 

4.  JireaHiuj  Ground — Tools  Employed — Blasting  by 
Various  Melliodji — Alrrrhine  Drills — Driving  Levds  and 
Sinking  Shaft). — ITie  kind  of  ground  in  which  mjning  ex- 
cavations have  to  be  carried  on  varies  within  tho  widest 
limits,  from  loose  quick.sands  to  rocks  which  are  eo  hard 
that  tho  best  steel  tools  will  scarcely  touch  them. 

Loose  ground  can  bo  removed  with  tho  Ehovel ;  but  in  TooU 
the  special  case  of  peat  sharp  spudos  are  employed,  which 
"i  l-ho  fibres  and  furnit^h  lumps  or  sods  of  con- 
.■■;  for  drying  and  subsequent  use  as  fuel.  What 
/.(!>,  soft,  or  easy  ground,  such  as  clay,  shale, 
(lecouipoocd  clay-slate, 
and  chalk,  requires 
tho  use  of  the  pick 
and  the  shovel.  The 
pick  is  a  tool  of  very 
variable  form,  accord- 
ing to  the  material 
operated  on.  Thus 
there  aro  the  navvy's 
pii-'i,  tho  single-point- 
ed jiick  with  a  striking 
head  at  the  other  end  called  the  poll- 
pick  (fig.  18),  and  numerous  varieties 
of  the  double-pointed  pick  (fig.  19),  tho 
special  tool  of  the  collier,  but  aico 
largely  used  in  metal  mining.  When 
the  ground,  though  harder,  is  neverthe- 
less "jointy,"  or  traversed  by  many 
natural  fissures,  the  wedge  comes  into  no.  1!>.— Donble- 
play.  The  Cornish  tool  known  as  a  gad  pointed  Pick. 
is  a  pointed  wedge  (fig.  20).  The  so-called  "pick  and 
gad  "  work  consists  in  breaking  away  the  easy  ground  with 
tho  point  of  tho  pick,  wedging  off  pieces  with  tho  gad  driven 
iu  by  a  sledge  or  tho  poll  of  tho  pick,  or  prizing  them 
off  with  the  pick  after  they  have  been  loosened  by 
the  gad.  The  Saxon  gad  is  held  on  a  little  handle,  i 
and  is  struck  with  a  hammer.  It  is  used  for  wodg 
ing  off  pieces  of  jointy  ground,  and  in  former  days  \ 
even  hard  rocks  were  e.xcavatod  by  its  aid.  The 
process  consisted  in  chipping  out  a  scries  of  parallel  ^q,"?' 
grooves  and  then  chipping  away  tho  ridges  left 
between  the  grooves.  As  a  method  of  v.  orking  this  process 
is  obsolete;  but'  it  is  useful  on  a  small  scale  for  cutting 
recesses  (hitches)  for  timber,  for  dressing  tho  sides  of  levels 
or  shafts  before  putting  in  dams,  and  for  doing  work 
in  places  whore  blasting  might  injure  pumps  or 
other  machinery. 

We  now  come  to  hard  ground  ;  and  in  this  class 
we  have  a  large  proportion  of  the  rocks  met  with 
by  the  miner,  such  as  slate  of  various  kinds,  hard 
grits  aud  sandstone,  limestone,  the  metamorphic 
schists,  granite,  and  the  contents  of  many  mineral 
veins.  Kocks  of  this  kind  are  attacked  by  boring 
and  blasting.  The  tools  employed  are  the  jumper, 
the  borer  or  drill,  the  hammer,  the  sledge  (mallet, 
Cornwall),  tho  scraper  and  charger,  tho  tamping  bar 
or  stommer,  in  .some  places  the  pricker  or  noodle, 
'he  claying  bar,  the  crowlmr,  and  finally  the  shovel 
i^r  clearing  away  the  broken  rock. 

The  jumper  (fig.  21)  is  merely  a  long  bar  of  iron 
terminating  in  two  chisel-like  edges  made  of  steel;  Fig.  21. 
generally  there  is  a  swelling  in  the  middle,  and 
sometimes  the  jumper  tapers  all  the  way  from  the  middle 
to  the  edge  or  bit.     The  jumper  is  most  commonly  used 
when  it  is  necessary  to  bore  holes  downwards,  and  is 


tAPLOSIVES.] 


MINING 


445 


Eipio 
sires. 


largely  employed  iq  quarries;  occasionally  it  is  used  m 
boring  holes  horizontally,  as  for  instance  in  the  salt  mines  of 
Cheshire.  The  jumper  is  held  in  the  desired  direc- 
tion, lifted  up,  and  thrust  down;  it  is  tuned  a 
little  after  each  stroke. 

However,  the  miner's  tool  is  generally  the  borer 
proper,  or  drill  (fig.  22),  which  is  a  bar  of  round  or 
octagonal  steel,  usually  from  |  inch  to  1 J  inches  in 
diameter,  with  one  end  forged  i^to  a  chisel-shaped 
edge,  the  exact  shape   and   degree   of  sharpness 
varying   according   to  the  hardness  of  the  rock. 
The  hole   is   bored  by  striking  the  drill  with  a 
hammer  or  sledge  and  turning  it  after  each  blow. 
Boring  is  said  to  bo  single-handed  if  the  miner 
holds  the  dtill  iu  one  hand  and  strikes  with  the  hammer 
in  the  other,  whilst  it  is  called  double-handed  -.vhen  one 
man   turns  and    an- 
other   strikes.      The 
hammers  for  single- 
handed   boring   usu- 
ally vary  in   weight  © 
from  2  to  6  or  7  ft.                F'o.  23.— Sledgo-Hammer. 
The  double-handed  boring  hammer,  or  sledge  (fig.  23), 
weighs  from  6  to  10  lb  or  more.     If  a  hole  is  directed 
downwards,  the  miner  pours  in  a  little  water  and  bores  the 
hole  wet.     From  time  to  time  he  draws  out  the  sludge  with 
the  scraper,  a  little  disk  at  the  end  of  a  metal  rod,  and  he 
takes  a  fresh  borer  when  the  tool  he  is  using  has  become 
blunt.    The  depth  bored  varies  with  the  rock  and  the  nature 
of  the  excavation ;  but  in  driving  levels  in  the  ordinary 
way  the  depth  is  commonly  from  18  inches  to  3  feet. 
'    Holes  for   blasting  are  sometimes  bored  by  tools  like 
carpenters'  augers.     One  of  the  simplest,  which  is  used  in 
some  French  slate-mines,  is  very  like  a  brace  and  bit,  and 
the  tool  is  kept  pressed  against  the  rock  by  means  of  a 
screw  fixsd  in  a  frame  resting  on  the  ground. 

The  pricker,  or  needle,  is  a  slender  tapering  rod  of  copper 
or  bronze,  with  a  ring  at  the  large  end.  It  is  used  lor 
maintaining  a  hole  in  the  tamping  through  which  the 
charge  can  be  fired.  The  use  of  needles  made  of  iron  is 
prohibited  in  many  countries,  on  account  of  the  danger  of 
their  striking  sparks  which  might  fire  the  charge.  The 
tamping  bar,  or  stemmer,  is  a  rod  of  iron,  copper,  or  bronze, 
or  iron  shod  with  copper,  and  it  is  used  for  ramming  in 
dried  clay,  slate  pounded  up,  or  other  fine  material,  upon 
the  powder,  and  so  creating  a  resistance  sufficient  to  make 
the  gases  generated  by  the  explosion  of  the  charge  rend 
the  rock  in  the  manner  required.  The  claying  bar  is  used 
for  lining  wet  holes  with  clay,  and  so  rendering  them 
temporarily  watertight. 

Shovels  vary  much  in  different  districts.  In  the  south- 
west of  England  the  long-handled  shovel  is  preferred  to  the 
common  one  with  a  short  handle ;  in  Germany  the  ore  or 
rubbish  is  frequently  scraped  into  a  tray  with  a  sort  of  hoe. 

In  addition  to  those  tools  the  miner  requires  an  ex- 
plosive, and  a  means  of  firing  the  charge  at  the  bottom 
of  the  hole  which  will  give  him  time  to  escape.  Twenty 
years  ago  gunpowder  was  the  only  explosive  in  common  use 
in  mines,  but  at  the  present  day  its  place  has  been  taken  to 
a  very  large  extent  by  mixtures  containing  nitroglycerin  or 
gun-cotton.  The  powder  used  for  blasting  in  mines  usually 
contains  less  saltpetre  than  that  which  is  employed  for 
sporting  or  military  purposes.  The  following  is  an  analysis 
of  mining  powder  by  Captain  Noble  and  Sir  F.  Abel:'- 


Saltpetre  

..61  66 
..    012 
..    014 
..  16-06 
..  17 '93 
..    0-66 

2'23 

Potassium  sulphate... 

0-59 

,,        chloriJo... 

Water 

1-61 

Carbon  

Hydrogen 

"  "On  Fired  Gunpowder,"  Phil.  Trant.,  1880,  p.  225. 


Gunpowder  compressed  into  cylinders  of  diameters 
suitable  for  bore-holes,  and  provided  with  a  central  hole 
for  the  insertion  of  the  fuse,  has  lately  beeii  brought 
forward  with  some  success. 

Nitro-glycerin  or  glyceryl  nitrate  is  a  light-yellow  oily 
liquid  which  is  very  sensitive  to  shocks ;  under  the  action 
of  a  fulminating  cap  it  explodes  with  great  violence. 
Its  chemical  composition  is  expressed  by  the  formula 
C3Hi(N02)303  or  (CjHJSNO,;  its  specific  gravity  ia 
V6.  It  has  been  found  so  dangerous  that  its  use  by 
itself  has  been  given  up ;  but  on  the  other  hand  the  mix- 
ture of  nitro-glycerin  and  infusorial  earth  (Zsese^^uA?-) called 
dynamite  or  giant  powder  is  now  one  of  the  commonest 
explosives  met  with.  It  has  the  advantage  over  powder 
that  it  is  far  more  powerful,  that  it  may  be  used  in  wet 
holes  or  under  water,  that  it  is  very  effective  even  in 
ground  full  of  "  vughs"  or  cavities,  and  that  it  requires  no 
hard  tamping,  which  is  always  a  source  of  danger.  Its 
plasticity  too  enables  it  to  fill  the  space  at  the  bottom  of  a 
bore-holo,  which  is  rarely  a  true  cylinder,  more  completely 
than  any  solid  cartridge  can  do.  One  disadvantage  is 
that  it  has  to  be  thawed  in  cold  weather,  and  there  is  also 
the  fact  that  occasionally  the  whole  of  a  charge  of  dyna- 
mite fails  to  go  off,  and  unnoticed  remnants  have  exploded 
and  caused  serious  and  even  fatal  accidents  when  struck 
with  the  pick  or  borer.  The  danger  is  enhanced  when  tha 
remnants  have  been  left  in  contact  with  water,  which  causes 
a  separation  of  the  sensitive  nitro-glycerin,  so  that  even' a 
blow  upon  the  adjacent  rock  may  lead  to  an  accident  if 
any  of  the  explosive  oil  has  leaked  into  cracks.  The 
strongest  dynamite  coitains  about  75  per  cent,  of  nitro- 
glycerin, the  rest  being  kieselguhr.  A  newer  explosive  is 
blasting  gelatin;  it  is  made  by  mixing  nitro-cotton  with 
nitro-glycerin,  until  enough  nitro-cotton  has  been  dissolved 
to  convert  the  nitro-glycerin  into  a  jelly-like  mass.  The 
blasting  gelatin  in  ordinary  use  contains  no  less  than  93 
per  cent,  of  nitro-glycerin,  with  7  per  cent,  of  nitro-cotton, 
and  its  strength  is  very  great. 

Gun-cotton  per  se  is  not  much  in  favour  in  ordinary 
mining;  but  mixed  with  some  nitrate  or  mixture  of 
nitrates,  such  as  the  nitrates  of  barium  and  potassium,  and 
known  as  cotton  powder,  tonite,  and  potentite,  it  is 
employed  extensively.  Though  not  quite  so  powerful  as 
dynamite,  nitrated  gun-cotton  possesses  the  important 
advantage  of  not  requiring  to  be  thawed  in  cold  weather. 
As  in  the  case  of  dynamite,  accidents  have  been  caused  by 
remnants  of  charges  ;  and  with  both  explosives  it  is  neces- 
sary to  examine  carefully  the  bottoms  of  all  holes  after 
blasting,  and  to  destroy  any  possible  remnants  by  firing  off 
a  detonator  in  any  bottom  or  "  socket"  which  cannot  with 
certainty  be  pronounced  free  from  danger. 

The  commonest  method  of  firing  a  charge  is  by  means  SafotjH 
of  the  safety-fuse,  a  cord  containing  a  core  of  gunpowder  '"""• 
introduced  during  the  process  of  manufacture  ;  it  may  be 
rendered  waterproof  by  tar  or  gutta-percha. 

In  blasting  in  the  ordinary  way  the  charge  of  gunpowder  is  put 
in  either  loose  or  enclosed  in  a  paper  bag,  and  it  is  pressed  down  to 
the  bottom  of  the  hole  with  a  wooden  stick,  whilst  a  piece  of  fuse 
also  is  inserted  extending  from  the  charge  well  beyond  the  hole. 
If  the  powder  is  loose  the  miner  carefully  wipes  down  the  sides  of 
tlio  hole  with  a. wet  swab  stick  (a  wooden  rod  witli  the  fibres  frayed 
at  one  end),  or  with  a  wisp  of  hay  twisted  round  the  scraper,  in 
order  to  remove  any  loose  grains  adhering  to  the  fuse  or  the  sidea 
of  the  hole,  and  then  presses  in  a  wad  of  hay  or  paper.  A  littlo 
fine  tamping,  often  the  dust  from  borinff  a  dry  hole,  is  now  thrown 
in  ^nd  rammed  down  with  the  wooden  charging  stick,  and  the  same 
process  ia  repeated,  and  when  harder  tamping  is  required  the  metal 
bar  ia  brought  into  operation,  until  the  hole  is  completely  filled. 

As  the  safety  fuse  burns  slowly,  at  the  rate  of  about  2  or  3  feet 
a  minute,  the  miner  can  secure  ample  time  tUt  retreat  by  taking  a, 
sufficient  length.  It  is  usual  to  iguito  the  fuse  by  a  candle-end 
fixed  under  it  by  a  piece  of  clay,  and  it  takes  a  little  time  for  tha 
candlo  to  buj-n  through  the  fuse, 

Tha  old  plan  of  firine  a  charge,  which  is  still  in  use  in  many 


446 


MINING 


[blastdjo. 


places,  consists  in  inserting  the  needle  into  the  charge  and  then 
tamping  up  the  hole.  Care  is  taken  to  draw  out  the  needle  a  little 
as  the  tamping  proceeds,  so'as  to  prevent  too  much  force  being  re- 
quired for  its  final  withdrawal.  The  small  hole  left  in  this  way 
serves  for  the  insertion  of  a  straw,  rush,  or  series  of  small  quills,  filled 
with  fine  powder,  which  like  the  fuse  reaches  from  the  charge  to 
the  outside.  A  short  squib  which  shoots  a  stream  of  sparks  down 
the  needle  hole  is  al-.o  used  occasionally.  Tlie  straw  or  squib  is 
lighted  by  some  kind  of  slow  match,  made  either  by  dipping  a 
cotton  strand  in  melted  sulphur  or  soaking  a  piece  of  paper  or  a 
lucifer  in  the  tallow  of  a  candle ;  touch-paper  also  is  used. 

Dynamite,  blasting  gelatin,  gun-cotton,  and  cotton-powder  are 
fired  by  the  detonation  of  a  fulminating  cap.  A  long  copper  cap 
containing  fulminate  of  mercury  is  fastened  into  the  safety-fuse  by 
Bqueezing  with  a  pair  of  nippers,  and  is  then  inserted  into  a  small 
cartridge  of  the  explosive  (primer),  and  placed  above  the  rest  of  the 
charge.  Fig.  24  shows  a  hole  charger" 
vith  two  dynamite  cartridges,  a  primei 
with  cap,  and  filled  up  with  water  as 
tamping.  Sometimes  gun-cotton  is  fired 
by  a  small  charge  of  powder  above  it. 
Several  substitutes  for  explosives 
liave  been  tried  mth  the  object  of 
cetting  rid  of  the  flame,  which  is 
dangerous  in  collieries  giving  off  fire- 
damp. Among  these  may  be  men-  //  ^^^  \ 
tioned  plugs  of  dry  wood  which  swell  /-  /'  "N^  > 

■when    wetted,    wedges    worked    by/--  

liydraulic   pressure,    cartridges    con-  Fig.  24 

taining  compressed  air  at  e.'ctreraely 

high  pressures,  and  lastly  cartridges  of  compressed  lime  which  ex- 
ftauds  when  water  is  brought  into  it. 

For  tlie  purpose  of  firing  several  holes  simultaneously, 
Messrs  Bickford,  Smith,  &  Co.,  the  original  inventors  and 
makers  of  the.  safety-fuse,  have  brought  out  a  new  fuse 
(fig.  25),  the  action  of  which 
will  be  easily  understood 
from  the  figure.  An  ordi- 
nary fuse  is  fi.xed  into  a 
metal  case  called  the  igniter, 
from  which  a  number  of 
instantaneous  fuses  convey  fiie  to  as  many  separate  holes. 
It  is  found  in  practice  that  this  fuse  answers  very  well.  • 
Blactmg  Charges  may  be  readily  fired  singly  or  simultaneously 
by  eiw  with  the  aid  of  electricity,  cithei  of  high  tension  obtained 
tr.city.  fj.(,jjj  a  frictional,  magneto-electric,  or  dynamo-electric 
machiiie,  or  of  low  tension  from  a  galvanic  battery.  The 
former  is  preferred. 

Fig.  26  shows  a  section  of  one  of  Braiu  s  high-tetfsion  fiises. 
A  i'i  .1  nylinMninl  wonj.t,   .  ;isc  containing  a  papei    cArtridge  13, 


Fig.  2S. 


■with  an  eiectric  igiiiting  composition  C  at  the  bottom.  Two 
copper  wir6s  D,  D  enclosed  in  gutta  percha  E,  E  reach  down  to 
the  composition,  where  they  are  about  -^  inch  apart.  A  copper 
cap  or  detonator  G  is  fixed  on  to  the  small  end  of  the  wooden  case. 
The  insulated  wires  D,  D  are  long  enough  to  reach  beyond  the  bore*. 
hole.  The  ends  of  the  wires  are  scraped  bare,  and  one  wire  of  the 
first  hole  is  twisted  together  with  a  wire  of  the  next  hole,  and  so 
on,  and  finally  the  two  odd  wires  of  the  first  and  last  hole  are 
connected  to  the  two  wires  of  a  single  cable,  or  to  two  separate 
cables,  extending  to  some  place  of  safety  to  which  the  men  can 
retreat.  Here  the  two  cablo  wires  arc  connected  by  binding  screws 
to  a  frictional  electrical  machine  or  dynamo  exploder.  A  few  turns 
of  the  handle  charge  a  condenser,  and  by  pressing  a  knob  or  by 
some  other  device  the  circuit  is  completed  and  tho  discharge 
effected.  Tlic  clectncity  passes  through  tho  fuse  wires  making  a 
spark  at  each  break,  and  so  firing  tho  electric  igniting  composition. 
The  flame  flashes  through  the  hole  H,  and  ignites  the  fulminating 
mercury  I,  the  detonation  of  which  causes  the  cxplo.^ion  of  tho 
dynamite,  blasting  gelatin,  or  tonite  surrounding  the  cap. 

Otie  great  advantage  of  electric  firing  is  that  tho  miner 
can  retire  to  a  perfectly  safe  place  before  attefnpting  to 
explode  the  charge.  This  is  important  in  sinking  shafts, 
where  the  means  of  escape  are  less  easy  than  in  levels. 
A  second  advantage  is  that  there  is  no  danger  of  a  "  hang 


fire,"  an  occasional  source  of  acciaents  with  the  ordinary 

safety-fuse. 

One  of  the  greatest  improvements  in  the  art  of  mining  srechia- 
during  the  last  few  years  has  been  the  introduction  of  thills, 
machinery  for  boring  holes  for  blasting ;  most  of  the 
machines  imitate  percu.s.sive  boring  by  hand,  but  a  few 
rotary  machines  are  also  in  use.  A  percussive  drill  oi 
perforator  consists  of  a  cylinder  with  a  piston  to  which 
the  drill  is  fastened.  Compressed  air  is  made  to  act 
alternately  on  each  side  of  the  piston,  and  in  this  manner 
the  drill  receives  its  reciprocating  motion.  Various 
arrangements  have  been  adopted  for  securing  the  automatic 
rotation  of  the  drill.  In  some  cases  also  the  advance 
forward  of  the  machine,  as  the  hole  is  deepened,  is  also 
effected  automatically ;  but  in  many  of  the  best  drills  this 
work  is  left  to  the  man  in  charge.  It  is  impossible  within 
the  lim^^  "4  this  article  to  describe  the  various  drills  now 
in  use,  ci  even  to  make  a  complete  enumeration  of  them. 

The  following,  iii  alphabetical  order,  are  the  names  of  some  of 
the  best-known  drills  t — Barrow,  Beaumont,  Burleigh,  Champion, 
Cornish,  Cranston,  Darlington,  Desideratum,  Dccring,  Duboia 
and  Fi-anjois, Dynamic,  Eclipse,  Excelsior,  Ferroux,  Frohlich,  Inger- 
Eoll,  Laxey,  Mackean,  Osterkampf,  Kand,  Roanhead,  Sandycroft, 
Schram.  An  account  of  two  of  the  simplest,  the  Barrow  and  the 
Darlington  drills,  will  be  sufliclent  to  give  a  general  idea  of  the 
construction  of  these  machines. 

"  TThe  Barrow  drill  (fig.  27)  consists  essentially  of  a  gun-metal  Barrow 

o*  drill. 


14JJ         

Fig.  27. 
cylinder  C  about  2  feet  in  length  and  i  inches  in  diameter,  to 
which  works  a  cast-steel  piston-rod  D,  fitted  with  two  pistons  G, 
about  12  inches  apart,  mid-way  between  which  is  the  tappet,  or 
boss,  G'.  In  a  valve-box  on  the  top  of  the  cylinder  is  placed  the 
oscillating  slide-valve  H  (sho^vn  separately),  hinged  at  M,  which 
is  worked  by  the  reciprocation  of  the  tappet  G  coming  in  con- 
tact with  its  lower  edges,  which  for  this  purpose  are  formed  with 
two  slopes  at  each  end,  as  shown.  It  has  ports  corresponding 
with  openings  in  the  slide-valve  face  for  admitting  the  fresn 
steam  or  compressed  air  from  tho  inlet  pipe  I  (fig.  28)  to  the 


ports  j  at  each  end  of  tho  cylinder,  and  for  letting  tiio  spent  o> 
exhaust  air  or  steam  escape  by  the  exhaust  pipe  J.  This  simple 
arran"cnient  constitutes  the  wliolo  valve  gear  of  the  machine. 

"tIio  borer  is  inserted  into  a  hole  formed  in  tho  fore  cml  of  the 
piston  rod,  and  is  fixed  therein  by  means  of  a  screw.  Its  rotation 
13  efi'ccted  by  band,  by  means  of  the  handle  D",  turning  a  spindlo 
D',  which  is  so  fitted  by  means  of  the  cotter  d,  made  fast  in  tho 
piston  DG,  and  fitting  in  a  slot  in  tho  spindle  D',  that  tho  latti* 
can  slide  in  tho  piston  DO,  but  when  turned  by  the  handle  causes 
the  piston  to  turn  with  it.  The  spimllo  D'  has  a  pinion  E  gearing 
into  tho  pinion  F,  on  tho  adjusting  and  feeding;  screw  C,  so  that 
wlien  the  piston  D  is  turned  by  means  of  tlie  handlo  D"  the 
cylinder  C  is  simulUncously  pushed  along  tho  bcd-plato  A.  1^"^ 
pinions  can  bo  easily  disconnected  by  loosening  the  nut/,  and  thus 
the  piston  and  the  adjusting  screw  can  be  turned  independently  of 
one  another  when  required.  . 

"  Tho  borers  used  are  respectively  1  i  inches,  IJ  inches,  and  1  incti 
in  diameter,  tho  length  of  the  stroke  4  inches,  and  the  roaiimnm 
number  of  blows  about  three  hundred   per  minute      Tlio  air  is 


IIAOHCTB  DRILLS.] 


M  I  K  I  N  (r 


447 


liooght  down  about  400  fethotos  from  erufico,  at  a  preastue  of  £0  to 
£6  lb  to  the  sqnare  mch,  in  wrought- iron  pipoe  2  inehea  in  diameter  in 
the  shaft,  and  lA  fechea  in  the  lerel,  and  aomitted  through  a  flexible 
tube  into  the  inlet  I  on  the  left-hand  side  of  the  cylinder.  The  cost 
of  the  pipes  is  rather  npder  Ti.  a  foot,  or  about  Ss.  3d.  per  &thom. 
The  air  is  compressed* at  the  surface  by  a  14- inch  compressor,  worked 
by  a  12-inch  horizontal  engine,  capable,  however,  of  working  two 


E^^ 


machine  drills.     The  gross  weight  of  the  machine,  including  tea 
bed-plate  and  gudgeon,  is  about  116  lb." 

Tne  method  of  nxing  the  machine  forworK  13  as  foiiows  : — '*  The 
bed-plate  A  of  the  machine  is  formed  with  a  gudgeon  A'  which  fits 
into,  and  can  be  adjusted  to  any  position  in,  a  socket  formed  in  or 
on  a  clamp  B',.  which  can  be  &xea  on  any  part  of  the  wrought- iron 
bar  or  column  B,  thus  forming  a  universal  joint.    This  bar  or  column 


Scale,  figs.  29,  30. 


lochn  U  9  6  3  0  1  'i  Feet. 

Fio.  29.— Side  Elevation  of  Darlington's  Rock-DriU.— Scale  I'jjV- 
can  be  placed  in  position  either  horizontally  or  vertically,  as  may  I  adjusting  screw  M,  and  claws  N  and  N'.      If  necessary,  wooaen 
be  most  convenient,  but  is  generally  placed  across  the  level,  against  I  wedges  0,  0'  are  diiven  in  between  the  claws  and  the  vjall  to  make 
the  sides  of  which  it  is  secured  by  means  of  the  clamp  L,  and  I  it  still  firmer.    The  weight  of  the  bar  is  about  120  ft."' 


<x> 


Fio.  30.— Horizontal  Section  of  Darlington's  Rock-Drill.— Scale  ■^. 


Air-compressing  plant  of  greater  size  has  now  been  erected  at 
Dolcoath  mine,  to  which  the  above  description  refers.  At  Snail- 
beach  mine  in  Shropshire  they  have  two  air-compressors  of  18  inches 


Pig.  81. 
diameter  and  5  feet  stroke  ;  the  air-main  is  at  first  9  inches  iu  dia- 
meter, then  6  inches,  whilst  2-mch  ^-pipe  is  used  in  the  levels. 
A  rock-driU  which  has  done,  and  is  doing,  excellent  work  is  that 


of  llr  John  Darlington.  Its  constraction  will  be  xmderstood  bv  l^arUng- 
reforring  to  figs.  29,  30,  and  31  ;  a  is  the  cylinder,  h  the  piston  rod,  ton  drili 
c  the  borer;  rf,  d  are  two  openings  for  bringing  in  compressed  air, 
either  of  which  may  be  used  according  to  the  position  of  the  drill , 
e  is  the  inlet  hose  with  a  stopcock,  /drill-holder,  g  stretcher  bar, 
h  piston,  j  rifled  bar  for  turning  piston  and  drill,  k  ratchet  wheel 
attached  to  rilled  bar,  I  rifled  nut  fixed  in  the  piston  head,  m  wood 
for  lessening  weight  of  piston  rod  and  blocking  space,  n  portway  for 
allowing  the  compressed  air  to  pass  to  the  top  of  the  piston  and  give 
the  blow,  0  exhaust  portway.  The  action  oi  the  drill  is  as  follows. 
The  compressed  air  is  always  acting  on  the  underside  of  the  piston, 
and  when  the  upper  side  of  the  piston  communicates  with  the  outer 
atmosphere  the  piston  moves  rapidly  backwards  and  uncovers  the 
portway  n.  The  compressed  air  rushes  through  and  presses  against 
the  upper  side  of  the  piston,  which  has  a  greater  area  than  the  lower 
sido,  the  difference  being  eijual  to  the  area  of  the  piston  rod.  The 
piston  is  driven  rapidly  downwards  and  the  drill  stiikes  its  blow. 
At  the  same  time  it  uncovers  the  exhaust  port  o  and  then  the  con- 
stant pressure  on  the  annular  area  on  the  underside  of  the  piston 
produces  the  return  stroke.  The  number  of  blows  per  minute  is 
from  six  hundred  to  eight  hundred.  The  rotation  of  the  drill  is 
effected  by  the  rifled  bar.  On  the  down-stroke  of  the  piston  the 
bar  with  fts  ratchet  wheel  is  free  to  turn  under  a  couple  of  pawls, ' 
and  consequently  the  piston  moves  straight  whilst  the  bar  and 
ratchet  wheel  turn.  A^ixen  the  up-stroke  is  being  made  the  ratchet 
wheel  is  held  by  the  pawls  and  the  piston  is  forced  to  make  part  of 
a  revolution.  As  the  hole  is  deepened  the  cylinder  is  advanced 
forwards  by  turning  the  handle  p  ;  this  works  an  endless  screw  q 


^  Troc.  Mining  Institute  o/ Cornwall,  vol.  i.,  1877,  p.  12. 


448 


MINING 


TFOaMATION   OP   EkoiVATIOHB. 


passing  through  a  nut  attached  to  the  cylindar;  r  13  the  cradle 
carrying  the  feed-screw  and  supporting  the  cylinder.  It  is  centred 
on  the  clamp  5.  As  this  clamp  can  bo  fixed  in  any  position  on  the 
bir.  ind  as  t'-"'  cradle  can  be  turned  on  the  clamp,  it  is  evident 
I  ..  nred  in  any  direction. 

In  driring  a  level  with  the  Darlington  driU  it  is  usual  to  fix  the 
stretcher  bar  horizontally  across  the  level  so  as  to  command  the 
upper  part  of  the  face  ;  holes  can  then  bo  bored  with  the  cradle 
above  the  bar  or  below  it.  The  bar  is  then  shifted  low  enough  to 
bore  the  bottom  holes.  It  is  found  that  all  the  necessary  holes  can 
bo  bored  from  two  positions  of  the  bar.  The  bar  therefore  has 
simply  to  be  fixed  twice ;  the  alteratior.s  in  position  for  boring  holes 
in  various  directions  are  managed  by  shifting  the  clamp  on  the  bar 
and  turning  the  cradle  on  the  clamp.  Fig.  31  shows  the  stretcher 
bar  fixed  in  a  vertical  position,  which  is  sometimes  convenient. 

In  order  to  clear  out  the  sludge  from  holes  that  are  "looking 
downwards, "  a  jet  of  water,  supplied  frora  a  hose  attached  to  a  half- 
inch  gas-pipe  leading  from  a  cistern  at  a  higher-  level,  is  made  to 
play  into  the  holes  during  the  process  of  boring. 

For  sinking  shafts  Jlr  Darlington  has  the  drul  fixed  in  a  cylin- 
drical case  with  a  large  external  thread  which  works  in  a  nut  on  the 
clamp.  The  drill  is  fed  forwards  by  turning  a  hand-wheel  attached 
to  the  case. 

Eotatiag  Eotating  machine  driUs  are  aiso  used  in  mines  as  well 
drills,  as  those  with  percussive  action.  Stapff  pointed  out  some 
years  ago  that,  if  a  rock  may  be  chipped  off  by  power  com- 
municated by  a  blow,  it  may  also  be  chipped  off  by  a  similar 
amount  of  power  communicated  by  pressure.  Brandt's 
rotatory  boring-machine  consists  of  a  hollow  borer  which 
has  a  steel  cro\vn  with  cutting  edges  screwed  on.  The 
tool  is  kept  tight  against  the  rock  by  the  pressure  of  a 
column  of  water,  and  is  at  the  same  time  made  to  rotate 
by  two  little  water-pressure  engines,  whilst  a  stream  of 
water  passing  down  through  the  borer  washes  away  the 
ddbris  and  keeps  the  cutting  edges  cool.  In  principle, 
therefore,  this  drill  resembles  the  original  diamond  boring 
machine  of  De  la  Roche-Tolay  and  Ferret,  save  that  the 
crown  is  made  of  steel  and  not  of  diamonds.  During  the 
last  few  years  it  has  been  tried  with  success  in  railway 
tunnels  and  in  mines.  Jarolimek's  driU'  acts  also  by 
rotation,  but  the  borer  is  fed  forwards  and  pressed  against 
the  rock  by  a  differential  screw  arrangement.  The  machine 
can  be  worked  by  hand,  or  by  a  little  water-pressure  or 
compressed-air  engine  or  an  electro-motor.  In  working 
certain  minerals  occurring  in  seams  the  undercutting  may 
be  performed  by  machines  similar  to  those  used  in  coal 
mines  (see  vol.  vi.  p.  68). 

We  now  come  to  the  application  of  the  tools  and  machine 
drills  to  the  purpose  of  breaking  ground  for  driving  levels 
and  sinking  shafts. 
Driving  A  level  or  drift  is  a  more  or  less  horizontal  passage  or 
levels,  tunnel,  whilst  a  shaft  is  a  pit  either  vertical  or  inclined. 
In  driving  a  level  by  hand  labour  in  hard  ground,  the  first 
thing  the  miner  has  to  do  is  to  take  out  a  cut,  i.e.,  blast 
out  a  preliminary  opening  in  the  "end"  or  "  forebreast." 
The  position  of  this  cut  is  determined  by  the  joints,  which 
the  miner  studies  carefully  so  as  to  obtain  the  greatest 
advantage  from  these  natural  planes  of  division.  Thus 
fig.  32  shows  a  case  in  which,  owing  to  joints,  it  was 


Fig.  32.  Fig.  33. 

advisable  to  begin  with  a  hole  No.  1,  and  then  hore  and 
blast  2,  3,  and  4  one  after  the  other.  The  miner  as  a  rule 
does  not  plan  the  position  of  any  hole  until  the  previous 

'  Oeilcrreiehische  Zeiischri/l /iir  Berg-  wid  UMUnieetcn,  1881. 


one  has  done  its  work;  in  fact  he  regulates  the  position 
and  depth  of  each  hole  by  the  particular  circumstances  of 
the  case.  Though  a  vein  and  its  walls  may  be  hard,  there 
is  ocasionally  a  soft  layer  of  clay  (DD,  DD,  fif;.  33)  along 
one  ...^  (diy,  Cornwall;  gouge,  United  States).  The 
miner  then  works  this  away  with  the  pick,  and,  having 
excavated  a  groove  as  deep  as  possible,  he  can  now  blast 
down  the  lode  by  side  holes  and  so  push  the  levo.l  forward. 

In  sinking  a  shaft  a  similar  method  of  proceeding  is  Sinking 
observed.     A  little  pit  {sink)  is  blasted  out  in  the  most  sh»ft». 
convenient  part,  and  the  e-'icavation  is  widened  to  the  full 
size  by  a  succession  of  blasts,  each   hole  being  planned 
according  to  circumstances.     This  series  of  operations  is 
repeated,  and  the  shaft  is  thus  gradually  deepened. 

Where  boring  machinery  is  employed,  less  attention, 
ancl^ometimes  no  attention,  is  paid  to  natural  joints, 
bec^^  when  once  the  drill  is  in  its  place  it  is  very  little 
trouble  to  bore  a  few  more  holes,  and  the  work  can  then 
be  carried  on  according  to  a  system  which  is  certain  of 
effecting  the  desired  result. 

A  common  method  of  procedure  for  hard  ground  is  Driving 
shown  in  figs.  34  and  35.  Four  centre  holes  are  bored  '«*;?'» 
about  a  foot  apart 
at  first,  but  con- 
verging till  at  a 
depth  of  3  feet 
they  are  within 
6  inches,  or  less, 
of  each  other. 
Other  holes  are 
then  bored  around 
them    untU     the  ^^  =^^  ^'S- ^S- 


Fig.  34 

end  is  pierced  by  twenty  or  thirty  holes  in  all.  The  four 
centre  holes  are  then  charged  and  fired  simultaneously, 
either  by  electricity  or  by  Bickford's  instantaneous  fuse, 
and  the  result  is  the  removal  of  a  large  core  of  rock. 
The  holes  round  the  opening  are  then  charged  and  fired, 
generally  in  volleys  of  several  holes  at  a  time,  and  the  level 
is  thus  carried  forward  for  a  distance  of  3  feet^  If  the 
ground  is  more  favourable  fewer  holes  are  required,  and 
they  may  be  bored  deeper, — in  fact  as  much  as  6  feet  in 
some  instances.  Occasionally  the  four  centre  holes  are 
directed  so  that  they  meet  at  the  apex  of  an  acute  pyramid, 
and  then,  after  all  have  been  charged  with  blasting  gelatin, 
only  one  of  them  receives  a  primer  and  cap  ;  the  shock  of 
the  explosion  of  one  charge  fires  the  other  three  adjacent 
charges  simultaneously.  The  preliminary  opening  is  not 
necessarily  made  in  the  centue  of  a  level,  and  sometimes  it 
is  blasted  out  in  the  bottom  or  one  side. 


In  sinking  shafts  by  boring  machinery  operations  arc  conducted  Sinking 
much  in  the  same  way  as  in  levels,  save  of  course  that  the  holes  shafts 
are  directed  downwards.     Figs.  36  and  3/  are  a  section  and  plan  of  with 
a  shaft  which    is  ,  ^ 
now  being  sunk  at  ^ 
the  Foxdale  mines 
in  the  Isle  of  Man. 
About      forty-five 
holes  are  bored  iu 
the  bottom  of  tlic 
shaft    before    the 
drills  are  removed  : 
two  of    the   holes 
A,  B,  and  occasion- 
ally four,  are  bored 
only  i  feet  deep, 

and  arc  blasted  with  ordinary  fuse.  They  servo  simply  to  smash 
up  ar.d  weaken  the  core ;  then  the  si.T  holes  nearest  the  centr*, 
which  are  8  feet  deep,  are  blasted  nil  together  with  Bickford's 
instantaneous  fuse,  and  the  result  is  tlie  removal  of  a  largo  coro 
leaving  a  deep  sink.  The  remaining  holes  are  fired  in  voUevs  of 
four  at  a  time  in  the  ordinary  way.  In  this  manner  the  sliaft, 
which  is  in  hard  granite,  is  being  deepened  at  the  rate  of  3J  or  4 
fathoms  a  month.     Tonite  is  the  explosive  used. 

Sundry  machines  have  been  in^-xjiitcd  and  used  for  driving  levels 
without  blastiug.     Some  cut  up  the  face  into  small  chips  which  can 


Fig  86. 


F'g.  37. 


PAYMBirr  OP  MINEES.] 


MINING 


449 


feasfly  be  removed,  but  they  have  not  made  tlieir  way  at  present 
into  ordinwy  mining.  The  Bosseyense  of  MM.  Dubois  and  rran9oi9 
acts  on  a  dMerent  principle.  It  is  a  strong  machine  worked  by 
compressed  air.  It  first  of  all  drills  holes  i  inches  in  diameter  by 
percussion  ;  a  striking  head  is  then  substituted  for  the  drill,  and 
wedges,  on  the  principle  of  the  plug  and  feathers,  are  inserted  into 
the  holfcs ;  and  powerful  blows  with  the  striking  head  wodge  off  the 
rock  in  lumps.  '  This  machine  is  being  used  with  success  in  Belgium 
for  driving  levels  and  crosscuts  in  fiery  mines. 

Some  comparative  experiments  benreen  hand-labour,  a  percussive 
drill,  and  a  rotatory  dxill  have -lately  been  made  in  one  of  the 
Fieibarg^mines,'  and  the  results  are  of  much  interest  and  import- 
eince.  The  actual  figures  are  as  follows,  the  cost  including,  in  the 
case  of  the  machines,  interest,  depreciation,  and  cost  of  repairs,  and 
cost  of  steam-power,  supposing  water-power  not  available :— 


Hand- 
boring. 

Schram's 
DHil. 

Brandt-6 
Drill. 

ni  »          <lr1     n  Tier  week  tin  metres) 

0-9.5 
12010 
120-5 
1-S5  to 
2-05 

4-5 
77-4  to 
86-25 
3-48  to 

s-ee 

8-0 
74-34 
3-76 

UMjpe                                          • 

Wiges  reallze4  bj  the  miners,  in  marks,  per  8  1 
hours  shift — ■  i 

The  advantages  of  machine  work  are  very  marked  indeed  both 
&3  regards  rate  and  cost  of  driving,  and  wages  earned  by  the  men. 
Brandt's  rotatory  drill  did  its  work  cheaper  and  &ster  than  Schram's 
machine;  but  nothing  is  said  in  the  original  notice  of  the  advantage 
of  a  machine  driven  oy  compressed  aii-  for  ventilating  workings  such 
OS  advanced  headings  in  which  these  drills  are  employed. 

Brandt's  machine  was  worked  with  water  at  a  pressure  of  83^ 
atmospheres,  of  which  56  '6  atmospheres  were  obtained  by  pressure 
pumps  provided  with  an  accu-jiulator,  and  26-9  atmospheres  by 
natural  fall,  owing  to  the  working  level  being  277  metres  below 
the  pumps.  The  water  was  conveyed  to  the  machine  in  iron  pipes 
of  14  inches  diameter  inside.  Tiie  diainfiter  of  ^Y"^  hoin<i  ^-.n^ff  v.-^,^ 
SJ  inches,  and  they  could  be  bored  in  gneiss  at  the  rate  of  IJ  inches 
■per  minute.  The  stretcher  bar  on  which  the  machine  is  carried 
13  hollow,  and  has  a  piston  which  can  bo  forced  out  by  hydraulic 
pressure  so  as  to  fix  the  bar  firmly.  A  similar  bar  is  sometimes 
used  with  percussive  drills.^ 

As  a  method  of  breaking  ground  the  ancient  process  of  fire-setting 
requires  to  be  mentioned.  Before  blasting  was  kno-(vn  it  was  lai^ely 
employed,  but  its  use  is  now  confined  to  a  few  places  on  thj  Con- 
tinent where  the  rocks  are  exceedingly  hard  and  where  wood  is 
abundant  and  cheap.  Piles  of  wood  are  heaped  up  against  the  face 
of  the  workings  and  set  on  firs.  On  retumiug  to  the  working  place 
two  or  three  days  afterwards,  when  the  rocks  h.ive  cooled  a  little,  it 
is  found  that  the  ground  has  jplit  and  flaked  off,  arid''-..-t  -"ic>.  hrj 
been  loosened  which  can  be  removed  by  the  pick  and  wedge. 

"VTe  finally  come  to  water  as  an  agent  for  removing  rocks. 
Streams  of  water  were  formerly  used  in  South  Wales  for  working 
beds  of  clay  ironstone  at  the  outcrop.  The  water  washed  away  the 
clay  and  shale  and  left  the  clean  nodules  of  ironstone.  Tiie  china 
clay  of  Cornwall  is  also  worked  by  water :  a  stream  of  water  is 
turned  on  to  the  soft  mass,  and  the  workman  loosens  the  ground 
with  a  pick;  the  water  carries  off  the  particles  of  decoicposed 
rock  in  -suspension  to  regular  settling  pits.  Water  under  pressure 
has  rendered  vast  services  to  the  miner  in  working  auriferous 
alluvia.  The  system  is  described  and  figured  at  p.  746  of  -vol.  x., 
80  it  is  unnecessary  here  to  enter  into  details.  In  the  special  case 
of  sal^mines  recourse  may  be  had  to  the  solvent  action  of  water, 
directed  by  suitable  jets,  for  making  excavarions. 
Vodesof  5.  Principles  of  Employment  of  Mining  Labour. — As  a 
P^ymg  large  proportion  of  the  expenditure  in  mining  is  for  actual 
miners,  mj^jj^^j  labour,  it  is  very  important  that  means  should  be 
taken  to  prevent  any  -waste  in  this  department.  Three 
principles  are  in  vogue — payment  by  time,  by  work  done 
either  measured  or  weighed,  and  by  the  value  of  the  ore 
extracted. 

The  overseers,  called  captains  in  many  metal  mines,  are 
naturally  paid  by  the  month,  and  where  strict  supervision 
can  be  exercised,  such  as  is  possible  at  the  surface,  on  the 
dressing-floors  for  instance,  the  same  principle  may  be 
adopted ;  but  when  men  are  working  underground,  and 
often  in  small  gangs  of  only  two  or  three  persons  at  some 
distance  apart,  piecework  of  some  kind  is  more  economical 
and  satisfactory  in  evei-y  way. 

In  driving  ievols  and  sinking  shafts  it  is  usual  for  the 


*  Jahrbitch  fur  das  Berg-  und  IlUUenwesen  im  K^iigreiche  Sachsen 
Wif  das  Jahr  1882,  p.  18,  and  abstract  in  Proc.  Irtsl.  Civ.  £ng., 
vol.  box.,  1881-82,  part  UL  p.  61. 

'  Annaks  des  Mines,  ser,  8,  ii.,  pL  1,  fig.  8,  1882. 


men  to  work  at  a  certain  price  per  running  yard  or  fathom. 
The  agents  have  to  see  that  the  excavation,  whether  shaft 
or  level,  is  maintained  of  the  full  dimensions  agreed  upon, 
and  preserved  in  the  proper  direction.  At  the  end  of  a 
certain  time,  generally  a  month,  the  work  is  measured  by 
the  agent.  From  the  groM  amount  obtained  by  multiply- 
ing the  price  by  the  number  of  fathoms  driven  or  sunk  it 
is  necessary  to  deduct  the  cost  of  the  materials  supplied  to 
the  men  by  the  mining  company,  such  as  explosives,  steel, 
candle.?,  &c.,  and  the  remainder  is  divided  among  the 
persons  who  took  the  contract.  When  the  useful  mineral 
is  being  obtained  the  men  may  be  paid  at  so  much  per 
cubic  yard  or  fathom  excavated,  or  at  so  much  per  ton  of 
mineral  extracted ;  the  overseer  of  course  has  to  see,  in 
this  latter  case,  that  worthless  rock  is  not  sent  to  the 
surface.  Payment  by  the  number  of  inches  bored  is  a 
method  in  use  in  some  countries,  where  the  men  are  not 
experienced  or  enterprising  enough  to  undertake  the  work 
in  any  other  way.  A  foreman  points  out  to  the  men  the 
position  and  direction  in  which  the  holes  must  be  bored, 
measures  them  when  completed,  and  subsequently  charges 
and  fires  them. 

The  third  method  is  that  which  is  known  as  the  tribute 
system.  The  miner  working  on  tribute  is  aUowed  to 
speculate  upon  the  value  of  the  ore  in  a  certain  working 
area  assigned  to  him  and  called  his  pitch.  He  give.?  the 
mining  company  all  the  ore  he  extracts  at  a  certain  pro- 
portion of  its  value,  after  he  has  paid  all  the  cost  of  break- 
ing ii,  liciitiug  it  to  the  surface,  and  dressing  it.  Thus, 
supposing  he  takes  a  pitch  at  5s.  in  the  £,  and  produces 
marketable  copper  ore  of  the  value  of  £50,  his  share  -will 
be  50  X  5s.  =£12,  10s.,  less  the  cost  of  the  materials  he 
has  been  supplied  with,  and  aU  expenses  for  -winding, 
dressing,  sampling,  <tc. 

6.  Means  of  Securing  Excavations  hy  Timber,  Iron,  and  Timber- 
Masonry. — The  following  kinds  of  timber  are  those  most  ""B- 
frequently  employed  for  secoring  excavations  underground : 
oak,  larch,  pitch  pine,  spruce  fir,  and  acacia.  In  many 
::r::;?s  the  timber  is  attacked  by  dry  rot,  -rthich  gradually 
renders  it  useless,  and  when  the  timber  has  often  to  be 
renewed  the  expense  may  be  very  considerable.  Various 
methods  of  pi^venting  dry  rot  have  been  tried  -with  more 
or  less  success,  such  as  letting  water  trickle  over  the  timber 
in  the  mine  or  treating  it  -with  preservative  solutibns 
beforehand.  Brine,  creosote,  and  solutions  of  chloride  of 
zinc,  sulphate  of  zinc,  sulphate  of  copper,  and  sulphate  of 
iron  increase  the  d  oration  of  timber.  It  was  found  by 
experiments  carried  on  at  Commentry  during  a  long  series 
of  years  that  one  of  the  best  plans  was  to  soak  the  tiiilber 
for  twenty-four  hours  in  a  strong  solution  of  sulphate  of 
iron.  The  total  cost  was  only  Jd.  per  yard  of  prop,  -u-hilst 
the  timber  lasted  eleven  times  as  long  as  when  this  simple 
treatment  was  omitted. 

Timber  is  used  in  various  lorms — either  whole  and  merely 
s.iwn  into  lengths,  or  squared  up,  or  sawn  in  half,  or  sawn 
into  planks  of  various  thicknesses. 

Where  the  roof  of  a  bed  is  weak  it  may  be  kept  up  by  simple 
props  ;  but  in  some  coal- 
mines and  clay-minesabetter 
support  is  obtained  by  logs 
{chocks)  laid  two  by  two 
crosswise  (fig.  38). 

Though  a  level  is  an  ex- 
cavation of  a  vei-y  simple 
nature,  the  methods  of  tim- 
bering it  vary  considerably, 

because  the  parts  requiring  ^  .^.  ,,. 

support  may  either  be  the  ^    -j  j 

roof  alone,  or  the  roof  and  one  or  two  sides,  or  the  roof,  sides,  and 
bottom.  ■  /.    ,  J    v  i_ 

If  the  roof  only  is  weak,  as  is  the  case  with  a  soft  lode  be^eei 
two  hard  walls,  a  cap  with  a  few  boards  resting  on  it  (£g.  89)  is 
sufficient  to  prevent  fails.     If  one  side  is  weak  the  cap  must  to 
^  XVL  —  57 


Fig.  3S. 


450 


MINING 


CURING   EXCAVATIONS. 


supported  by  a  side  prop  or  Ug   (fig.  40),   ana  very  often  by  two 
legs.     The  forms  of  joint  between  the  cap  and  leg  are  numerous 


Fig.  3?.  Fig.  40. 

(fig.  41),  depencUug  to  a  great  extent  upon  the  nature  of  the  pres- 
sure, whether  coming  upon  the  top  or  sides.  With  round  timber 
the  top  of  the  leg  is 
«ometimes  hollowed 
t3  shown  in  fig.  42 
A,  but  occasionally 
the  joint  is  flat  and  ,  . 
a  thick  nail,  or  nog,   -^  ^ 

is  put  in  (fig.  42  B)  ^  Fig.  41.  Fig.  42. 

to  prevent  the  effects  ci  side  pressure,  or,  better,  a  piece  of  thick 
plank  is  nailed  under  the  cap  (fig.  43).  Where  the  floor  of  a  level 
is  soft  and  weak,  a 
sole-piece  or  sill  be- 
comes necessary,  and, 
if  the  sides  or  roof  are 
likely  to  fall  in,  a 
lining  of  poles  or 
planks  is  used  (iig.  43). 
In  some  very  heavy 
ground  in  the  Cora- 
stock  lode   a    special 

Xpted(fi^«r"    ^**^-    .    ^'^■''- 

If  the  ground  is  loose,  so  that  the  roof  or  sides,  or  both,  will  run 

in  unless  immediately  supported,  the  method  of  working  called 

filling  or  poliitg  is  pursued.     It  consists  in  supporting  the  weak 

parts  by  boards  or  poles  kept  in  advance  of  the  last  frame  set  up. 

The  poles  or  boards 

{laths)     are     driven 

forward     by     blows 

from    a  sledge,   and 

the  ground  is  then 

ivorked    away    with 

the  pick;  as  soon  as 

a,  sufficient  advance 

has  been  made  a  new 

frame  is  set  up   to 

support  the  ends  of 

the  poles  or  boards 

and  the  process  is  re- 
peated (figs.  45  and 

46).     In  running  grouna  it  is  necessary  to  have  the  laths  fitting 

closely  together,  and  the  working  face  also  must  be  supported  by 

breast-hoards  kept  iu  place  by  little  struts  resting  against  the  frame. 

These  are  removed  and  advanced  one  by  one  after  the  laths  in  the 

roof  and  side  have  been  driven  beyond  them. 
Iron  On  account  of  the  high  price  of  timber,  iron  is  sometimes  em- 

supports,  ployed  in  its  place.    One  method 

in  use  in  the  Harz  consists  in 

bending  a  rail    into  the  form 

shown  in  fig.  47  and  making  it 

support  other   rails  laid  longi- 
tudinally, against  which  flattish 

stones   ara   placed;   the  vacant 

spaces    are     then    filled    with 

rubbish. 
Jlasoniy.      Masonry  has  long  been  used  for 

supporting  the  sides  of  mining 

excavations.        The     materials 

necessary    aro    stone,    ordinary 

bricks,  or  slag-bricks,  and  they 

may   bo    built   up   alone    (dry 

V}aili7ig)    or    with    the    aid   of 


Figs.  48  and  49  show  me&ods  of  securing  a  diift  by  arches  when  a 

lode  has  been  removed. 

The  timbering  required  for  shafts  varies  according  to  the  nature  Timbd 

ingfor 
shafts. 


Fig.  45.  J-  ]g.  4y. 

of  the  ground  and  the  size  of  the  excavation.  A  mere  lining 
of  planks  set  on  their  edges  (fig.  50)  suffices  for  small  shafts, 
corner  pieces  being  nailed  to  keep  the  successive 
frames  together.  In  some  of  the  salt-mines  of 
Cheshire  the  shafts  are  lined  with  4-ineh  planks 
united  by  mortice  and  tenon  j'oints. 

The  usual  method  of  securing  shafts  is  by 
sels  OT  frames.     Each  set  consists  of  four  pieces,  Fig.  50. 

two  longer  ones  called  wall-plates  and  tvvo  shorter  ones  called  erxd- 
pieces.     They  are  joined  by  simply  halving  the  timber  as  shown  in 


Fig.  45. 


><-^^- 


Fig.  47. 


mortar  or  hydraulic  cement.  The  bottom  of  a  level  is  occasionally 
lined  with  concrete  to  cany  a  largo  stream  of  water,  which  other- 
wise might  run  into  lower  workings  tlirough  cracks  and  crevices. 
Dry  walling  is  not  uncommon,  and  it  may  be  combined  with  the 
use  of  timber  (or  iron)  as  shown  iu  fig.  69,  in  which  a  level  is 
maintained  between  two  walla  keeping  back  a  mass  of  rubbish. 


Fig.  51.  Fig.  52. 

fig.  51,  A  more  complicatea  joint  (fig.  52)  is  often  prefen-ed.  The 
separate  frames  are  kept  apart  by  corner  pieces  {studdles,  Cornwall  J 
jogs,  Flintshire),  and  loose  ground  is  prevented  from  falling  in  by. 
boards  or  poles  outside  the  frames. 

As  shafts  are  frequently  used  for  the  several  purposes  of  pumping, 
hoisting,  and  affording  means  of  ingress  and  egress  by  ladders,  it 
becomes  necessary  in  such  cases  to  divide  them  into  compartments. 
Pieces  of  timber  parallel  to  the  end-pieces  {huntoTis  or  dividings) 
aro  fixed  across  the  shaft,  and  serve  to  stay  the  wall-plates  and 
carry  the  guides  as  well  as  to  support  planks  (casing  boards)  which' 
are  nailed  to  them  so  as  to  form  a  continuous  partition  or. 
brattice.  The  magnificent  timbering  of  some  of  the  shafts  on  thq 
Comstock  lode  is  described  by  Mr  James  D.  Hague  as  follows  :  *— ^ 
*'The  timbering  consists  of  framed  sets  or  cribs  of  square  timber, 
placed  horizontally,  4  feet  apart,  and  separated  by  uprights  or  posts 
introduced  between  tliem.  Cross-timbers  for  the  partitions  between 
the  compartments  form  a  part  of  every  set.      The  whole  is  covered 


Fig.  Ii4.  Fig.  55. 

on  the  outside  by  a  lagging  of  3-inch  plank  piaeed  vertically. "  Figs. 
53,  54,  and  55,  copied  from  Mr  Hague  s  plates,  illustrate  this  method 
0/  the   fortieth   I'arallcl,  voL  lU^ 


iZZPLOITATIOK.] 


MINING 


451 


of  timbering.  Fig.  53  is  a  dUb  of  the  shaft:  "  3,  S  are  the  longi- 
tndioalorSl-timbers,  T,  T  flie  transversa  end-timbeis,  P  portition- 
timbeis,  r  gaide-rods  between  which  the  cage  mores,  g  eaina  cat 
in  the  sill-timbera,  to  leceive  the  ends  of  the  poets.  The  sheathing 
or  lagging  is  seen  enclosing  the  whole  fiame. '  Fig.  54  is  a  tians- 
Teiso  section  through  the  partition  P  of  fig.  53,   "between'the 

})nmping  compartnient  and  the  adjoining  hoisting  compartment, 
ooking  towards  the  latter.  In  this  figure,  G,  G  are  the  posts,  S 
the  rifl-timber^  P  the  partition-timbers,  the  ends  of  which  are 
framed  with  short  tenons  that  are  received  in  gains  cut  in  the  sill- 
timbers  and  the  ends  of  the  posts,  r  guide-rod,  I  lagging  or 
sheathing."  Fig.  55  is  an  end  view  of  the  frame  shown  in  fig. 
63.  "The  single  piece  T  forms  the  end,  while  the  doable  pieces  P 
forming  the  partitions  are  seen  beyond."  **The  outer  timbers  of 
each  set,  that  is,  the  two  sides  and  ends  of  the  main  frame,  are 
14  inches  square ;  the  posts,  ten  in  number,  four  at  the  comers 
and  two  at  each  end  of  the  tiiree  partitions,  are  of  the  same  size. 
The  dividing  timbers,  forming  thepartitions,  are  12  inches  square." 
"When  ground  is  loose  or  running,  recourse  must  be  had  to  a 
tpilling  process  like  that  described  for  levels.  Strong  balks  of 
timber  are  fixed  at  the  surface  or  in  solid  ground,  and  then  the  first 
£rame  is  hung  from  these  bearers,  and  each  successive  &ame  from 
the  one  above  it.  Iron  bars  with  cotters  may  be  used  for  suspend- 
ing the  sets ;  but  on  the  Comstock  lode  each  bolt  is  made,  in  two 
parts  with  a  tightening  screw  in  the  middle,  and  the  sets  can  thus 
be  kept  very  firmly  together.  The  laths  are  driven  in  advance,  in 
the  manner  explained  in  the  case  of  levels,  and  a  new  frame  is  put  in 
as  soon  as  the  excavation  has  been  sufficiently  deepened  within  the 
protecting  sheath  of  boards.  In  vary  unstable  ground  it  may  bo 
necessary  to  put  iti  the  frames  touching  each  other,  so  that  the 
shaft  becomes  encased  in  a  solid  box  of  timber,  occasionally  H  inches 
thick. 

Like  levels,  shafts  may  be  lined  with  masonry  or  brickwork,  and 
^^■7  these  have  the  advantage  of  being  far  more  permanent  than  timber, 
*^  and  of  requiring  fewer   repairs.      This  kind  of   shaft-lining  is 

especially  desirable  in  the  loose  ground  near  the  surface;  because,  if 
the  working  is  discontinued  temporarily,  the  shaft  still  remains 
secure  and  available  for  use  at  any  future  time,  whereas  if  timber  is 
put  in  it  often  decays,  the  top  of  the  shaft  collapses,  and  much  ex- 
pense is  incurred  in  the  process  of  reopening  it.  The  section  of  the 
shafts  that  are  walled  is  generaUy  circular  as  afibrding  the  best 
resistance  to  pressure;  but  elliptical  walling  is  also  met  with. 
Another  shape  is  like  a  rectangle,  save  that  the  sides,  instead  of 
being  straight,  form  curves  of  large  radios.  The  waling  may  be 
dry  or  with  mortar,  according  to  circumstances. 

The  masonry  is  put  in  either  in  one  length  or  in  successive  por- 
'tions  in  descending  order,  and  this  is  the  usual  plan.  The  shaft 
is  sunk  a  certain  depth,  with  temporary  timbering  if  necessary, 
and  when  firm  ground  has  been  reached  a  bed  is  cut  out  round 
the  shaft,  and  on  this  is  placed  a  crib  or  curb  AB  (fig.  66'^  con- 
sisting of  segments  of  timber  which  form 
a  ring.  This  serves  for  a  foundation  for 
the  brickwork,  which  is  built  up  to  the 
surface;  the  temporary  timbering  is  re- 
moved, and  the  spacefilled  up  with  earth 
or  concrete.  Sinking  is  then  resumed 
below  the  curb,  and  for  a  certain  distance 
of  a  smaller  diameter,  so  as  to  leave  a 
bracket,  or  ledge,  to  support  the  first  curb. 
On  arriving,  after  a  cer&in  depth  of  sink- 
ing at  another  firm  bed,  a  second  cnrb 
CD  is  put  in  and  a  portion  of  brickwork 
built  up.  ^Vhen  the  ledge  of  rock  is 
reached^  it  is  carefully  removed  in  small 
sections  and  the  brickwork  brought  up 
to  the  first  curb.  This  process  is  repeated 
till  the  shaft  is  completed,  or  reaches  rock 
in  which  no  masonry  is  requisite.  If, 
owing  to  the  nature  of  the  ground,  it 
is  impossible  at  first  to  find  a  firm  seat 
for  the  curbs,  it  becomes  necessary  to  hang  Fig.  6S. 

them  by  iron  bolts  from  a  strong  bearing  frame  at  the'Soiiaea. 

VThen  shafts  pass  through  very  watery  strata,  it  is  most  desirable 
to  stop  all  influx  into  the  mine  for  the  purpose  of  saving  the 
heavy  expense  of  pumping.  The  manner  in  which  this  is  effected 
by  a  watertight  lining.  Known  as  tubbing,  is  described  in  the  article 
Coal,  voL  vi  p.  62,  where  will  also  be  toondan  account  of  Trigcr's 
plan  of  sinking  shafts  with  compressed  air,  and  the  very  successful 
method  of  boring  shafts  through  water-bcsjing  ground  invented  by 
Messrs  Elind  &  Chaudron. 

oi-        7.  Exploitation,  or  WorJcing  Away  of  Veim,  Beds,  and 
^     Masses. — We  have  described  how  shafts  are  sunk  and  levels 

driven,  and  we  now  come  to  the  processes  employed  in 

removing  the  mineral. 

^  J.  Gallon,  Lectures  on  Mining,  toL  L,  Atlas,  plate  xxviii. 


The  deposit  most  first  of  all  be  reached  by  a  shaft,  or, 
where  the  coatour  of  the  country  permits  it,  by  a  leveL 
In  the  case  of  a  vein  an  exploratory  shaft  is  often  sunk  oa 
the  course  of  tLe  lode  for  20  or  30  fathoms,  and,  if  the 
indications  found  in  a  level  driven  out  from  this  shaft 
warrant  further  prosecution  of  the  mine,  a  first  working 
shaft  is  sunk  to  intersect  the  lode  at  a  depth  of  lOO 
fathoms  or  more  from  soo™. 
the  surface.  Crosscuts 
are  then  driven  out  at 
intervals  of  10, 15,  or  20 
fathoms  to  reach  the  lode, 
as  shown  in  fig.  57,  which 
represents  a  section  at 
right  angles  to  the  line 
of  strika  Sometimes  the 
main  shafts  are  carried 
down  all  the  way  along 
the  dip  of  the  deposit, 
though  perpendicular 
shafts  have  the  advan- 
tages of  quicker  and 
cheaper  winding  and 
cheaper  pumping,  to  say  ^-  ^7. 

nothing  of  the  possibility  of  utilizing  the  cages  for  the  rapid 
descent  and  ascent  of  the  miners.  If  an  inclined  shaft 
appears  to  be  advisable,  great  care  should  be  taken  to  sinli 
it  in  a  straight  line.  In  either  case  levels  are  driven  ont^ 
along  the  strike  of  the  lode  as  shown  in  the  longitudinal 
section  fig.  58,  in  the  hopes  of  meeting  with  valuable  oid- 


7~     '       '     ^^"~ 


Fig.  68. 
bodies  such  as  are  represented  by  the  stippled  portions  of 
the  figure.  For  the  purpose  of  affording  ventilation,  and 
still  further  exploring  the  ground  and  working  it,  inter- 
mediate shafts,  called  vritues  (Cornwall)  or  sumps  (North. 
Wales),  are  sunk  in  the  lode. 

The  actual  mode  of  removing  the  lede  itself  d^ends  a  good 
deal  upon  circumstances,  viz.,  its  width,  the  nature  oi  its  contents, 
and  the  walls  that  enclose  it ;  but  the  methods  of  working  may 
generally  be  brought  under  one  of  two  heads,  viz.,  underhand 
■toping  or  overhand  stoping.  The  word  slope  is  equivalent  to 
step,  and  the  term  stoping  means  working  away  any  deposit  in  a 
series  of  steps.  Underhand  or  hcUorn  slopes  are  workings  arranged 
like  the  steps  of  a  staircase  seen  from  above,  whilst  ovfhcmd  or 
back  slopes  are  like  similar  steps  seen  from  underneath.  Both 
methods  have  their  advantages  and  n-rTTj}, 
disadvantages,  and  both  ai«  largely  ///f/f/t 
used. 

Wo  will  first  take  underhand  stop- 
ing, as  this  is  the  older  metlic - 
In  the  old  days  the  miner  began 
the  floor  of  the  level  (fig.  59),  r.;  . 
sank  down  a  few  feat,  removing  the 
part  1 ;  he  followed  with  2,  3,  4,  tc,  --o— • 

until  the  excavation  finally  presented  the  appearance  shown  m 
fig.  60.  Any  valueless  rock  or  mineral  was  deposited  upon  nlat- 
forma  of  timber  (siujb),  and  the  ore  was  drawn  up  into  the Jevsl 


452 


MINING 


[bstloitation. 


by  a  windlass.  One  great  disadrantaga  of  ttu  mctliod  is  that  tlia 
ore  and  water  have  to  bo  dra  \n  up  lu  li  it  '  ujl  labour; 
much  timber  is  required  ^  ^ 

for  the  stulls  if  there  />  ^  /A//^f// 

is  a  largo  quantity  of  -'■ ^ — ' — " 

y/orthless  stuff  in  tha 
vein,  or  if  the  sides  aro 
weak.  The  advantages 
are  that  ore  can  ba 
■worked  away  as  eoon  as 
"the  level  is  driven,  that 
the  men  are  always  bor- 
ing downwards,  and, 
lastly,  that  the  ore  can  Fig.  CO. 

be  carefully  picked  after  it  is  broken,  without  fear  of  any  valuable 
particles  being  lost. 

A  more  economical  method  of  working  by  underhand  stopes,  and 
«ne  largely  employed  in  Cornwall  at  the  present  day,  consists  in 
reserving    any  attack  upon  t    i   i  i  /    ■  /  i  1 1  i  >  i  i , 

the  era-ground  untU  a  lower     //  //  ////////7///// 

level  ms  been  driven.     An  ■' — ^ — ' — ' — -t-i— t-fc-t 

intermediate    shaft    {wintt) 

between   the   two    levels   is 

then  made,  either  by  sinking 

from  the  upper  level  or  rising      , 

from   the  lower  one.      The  / 

"work    of    sloping    is    com-    "f^'"^''.'fnp~^;i3^S5*E:'^'^"~'^"'^  ^"^ 

menced  at   the    two  upper    /  / /  //  77/77 /////// 

ends  of  the  winze,  and  the         /  /  ///////  //  /  ///> 

lode  is  removed  in  a  sv.c-  Fig,  61. 

<;ession  of  steps,  the  workings  assuming  the  appearance  exhibited  in 

fig.  61.     The  stops  are  generally  made  Steep,  so  that  the  ore  may 

leadily  roll  into  the  winze,  and  so  that  the  boro-holes  may  do  better 

esecution;  but  these  steep  stopes  are  daugerous  if  a  man  happens  to 

slip  and  fall.    The  huge  open  chasms  left  by  the  removal  of  a  large 

loda  in  this  way  are  also  a  sourco  of  danger ;  for  there  is  always  a  risk 

of  falls  of  rock,  and  from  places  which  cannot  easily  be  examined. 

Figs.  62  and  63,  kindiy  supplied  by  Captain  Josiah  Thomis,* 
explain  the  general  arrangement  of  the  workings  of  the  largest 
tin  mine  in  Cornwall.  The  lode  after  producing  copper  ores  to 
a  considerable  depth  changed  its  character  and  became  rich  in  tin. 
The  workings  for  tin  ore  are  confined  almost  entirely  to   the 


granite.    The  section  fig.  62  shows  that  the  main  shaft  of  the  mina 
13  at  first  vertical  and  then  carried  down  on  the  dip  of  the  lode. 

SOUTH 


V 


Fathoms  100  su  0  100  Fs'.!iom, 

Fig.  62. — Transverse  Section,  Dolcoath  Mine,  Cornw.ilL 
The  process  of  overhand  stoping  is  precisely  the  reverse  of  that 


Otot- 
iiatid 
dtopb!;. 


I   I    I    !    I    I    I    I    I    I    I  I  Scale. 

Fatboms 

Fio.  ^Z. — Longitudinal  Section,  Main  Lode,  Dolcoath  Mine,  CorawalL 
•which  has  been  just  described ;  the  work  is  commenced  from  a  rise  I  (fig.  64  A),  or  better  from  the  two  bottom  cuds  of  a 

As  soon  as  the  men  have  excavated  a  sufficient  )ici 
I  the  level,  they  pnt  in  strong  pieces  of  timber  from 


4*0  'Tathoma. 


winze  ifig.  64  B). 
;;lit  of  the  roof  of 
wall  to  wall,  and 


EXPLOITATIOX.] 


MINING 


453 


cover  these  cross-pieces  {sicmpeh,  slull-piccei)  with  boards  or  poles, 
and  throw  down  the  rubbish  upon  the  platform  (stull,  hunning) 
thus  formed.  In  the  midst  of  the  rubbish  chimney-like  openings 
{mUU,  paaets)  are  reserved,  lined  with  boards  or  dry-walling,  and 


W77ZyZ^777/777P7T7 


Fig.  66. 


Fig.  64. 

closed  at  the  bottom  with  shoots  provided  with  doors.  The  ore 
id  thrown  into  these  passes,  which  are  tapped  when  necessary;  the 
ore  falls  into  the  tram-waggon  placed  ready  to  receive  it. 

Fig.  65  gives  a  transverse  section  showing  the  rubbish  resting  on 
the  stall.  This  is  what  may  be  called  the  typical  method  of  stop- 
ing,  when  the  lode  affords  rubbish  enough  for  the  men  to  stand  on 
and  to  keep  them  close  to  the  rock  they  are  attacking.  Very  often 
such  is  not  the  case,  and  the  whole  of  the  lode  has  to  be  sent  to  the 
eurface  for  treatment.  If  the  v/alls  are  firm,  the  lode  is  sometimes 
stoped  away,  a  stull  put  in,  and  a  sufficient  heap  of  broken  ore  is 
left  upon  the  stull  to  give  the  men  good  standing  ground  ;  the  excess 
is  thrown  over  the  ends  of  the  stull,  or  the  great  heap  is  tapped  by 

st^Uove*ring/and  ^al-  \  n\\\  ^  ^  \\\\\\\\\\\\\ 
lowing   a   quantity    to 
run  down  into  the  level. 

Another  method  con- 
sists in  putting  in 
temporary  stages  upon  v  ■ 
which  the  men  stand  to  \-^ 
do  their  work,  whilst 
the  excavation  is  left  as 
an  open  space  (fig,  66). 

This  mode  of  working  is  incompatible  with  weak  walls.  If  a  lode 
does  not  afford  rubbish  enough  for  coi^plctely  filling  up  the 
vated  space,  or  if  it  is  too  narrow 
for  men  to  do  their  work  comfort- 
ably, one  of  the  walls  may  be  cut 
into  and  blasted  down  (fig.  67),  so 
that  the  men  always  stand  upon  a 
fimi  bed  of  rubbish  while  at  work, 
and  there  is  no  fear  of  a  collapse 
of  the  mine.  In  certain  special 
cases  rubbish  is  sent  down  from  the 
surface  to  fill  up  the  excavations. 

The  advantages  of  overhand 
stoping  are  —  that  the  miner  is 
assisted  by  gravity  in  his  work, 
that  no  ore  or  rock  has  to  be  drawn 
up  by  hand  labour,  and  that  less 
timber  is  required.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  miner  is  always  menaced  _. 

by  falls,  but  as  he  is  close  by  he  *'^S-  ^7. 

can  constantly  test  the  solidity  of  the  roof  and  sides  by  sounding 
them  with  his  sled  je ;  there  is  the  further  disadvantage  tljat  particles 
of  ore  may  be  lost  in  the  _ 
riibbish,  but   this  loss 


often  prevented  by  laying  ^;^ 

down  boards  or  sheets  of  ^:^ 

iron  while  the  lode  is  being    "^ 

broken  down. 
Working      "When  very  mdo  lodes 
wide         come  to  be  worked,  recourse 
lodes        is    often   had    to    special 

methods.     The  great  lode 
V.^a         at  the  famous  Van  mine,  in 
mine.       Montgomeryshire,  is  some- 
times 40  feet  in  width,  and 

the  hanging  wall  is  weak. 

The  lode  is  stoped  away 

overhand,  and  the  cavities 

packed  with  rubbish,  part 

of  which  is  derived  from 

the  lode  itself,  whilst  the 

greater  portion  is  supplied  from  a  special  quarry  at  the  surface. 

Fig.  68  ^  explains  the  details  of  the  case.     A  is  the  original  cross- 

i  tbe  Van  Mine,"  TroM,  Rq».  Oeol.  Soc.  Con> 


Fig.  6& 


cut  (not  in  the  line  of  section)  by  which  the  lode  was  reached, 
B  is  thejluean,  C  the  bastard  lode,  generally  worthless,  E  the  main- 
lode,  Hperraar^iitlevels,  and  K  ore-j3(W5  reserved  amidst  the  rubbish 
(deads)  D,  I  pass  du-;-ra  which  rubbish  is  shot,  N  crosscut  connect- 
ing the  level  H  with  P  the  permanent  level  in  the  coxcnlry. 

If  the  lode  is  not  firm  enough  to  allow  of  the  stopes  being  carried 
for  its  full  width,  the  crosscut  method  is  adopted ;  the  workings 
in  this  case,  instead  of  proceeding  along  the  strike,  are  carried  across 
the  deposit  from  one  wall  to  another. 

The  lode  is  removed  in  successive  horizontal  slices  ABODE- 
and  for  each  slice  a  level  (L,  fig.  69)  is  driven,  either  in'  the'lod^ 


1  >o  >■  ^  Fig.  70. 

01  partly  or  entirely  in  the  country;  from  this  level  crosscuts  arc- 
put  out  6  or  8  feet  wide,  as  shown  in  the  plan  (ng.  70).  These  are- 
regularly  timbered  accoiding  to  the  necessities  of  the  case,  and, 
when  No.  1  is  completed,  No.  2  is  begun,  and  the  rubbish  from 
No.  2  thrown  ii.to  the  empty  space  of  No.  1  crosscut.  If  the 
quantity  is  insufficient,  deads  are  brought  in  fk>m  the  surface  or 
from  exploratory  workings  in  worthless  rock  in  the  neighbourhood. 
Sometimes  the  crosscuts  are  not  driven  side  by  side,  but  1  and  5 
would  be  di-iven  first,  leaving  2,  3,  and  4  as  a  solid  pillar ;  then  3 
would  be  worked  away,  and  finally  2  and  4  between  the  timber  and 
rubbish  on  each  side.  The  greater  part  of  the  timber  can  be  re- 
covered when  the  next  slice  above  is  taken  ofi",  as  the  props  are  put 
in  with  the  small  ends  downwards,  and- can  bo  drawn  up  with 
levers.  M  (fig-  69)  is  a  level  reserved  in  the  deads  for  traffic  and 
ventilation.  This  method  of  working  is  applicable  not  only  to 
lodes  but  also  to  iiTegular  masses. 

In  working  away  the  soft  '*  bonanzas  "  or  ore-bodies  of  the  great  Comrt*^ 
Comst«ck  lode,  which  are  from  10  to  30  or  even  40  or  50  feet  wide,  lodt. 
and  which  are  enclosed  in  very  un- 
stable ground,  a  special  method  of 
timbering  is  employed  (figs.  71  and 
72).-  "  It  consists  in  fiiaming  timbers 
together  in  rectangular  sets,  each  set 
being  composed  of  a  square  base 
placed  horizontally,  formed  of  four 
timbers,  sills,  and  cross-pieces,  4  to 
6  feet  long,  framed  together,  sur- 
mounted by  four  posts  6  to  7  feet 
high,  at  each  corner,  and  capped  by 
a  frame-work,  similar  to  that  of  the 
base.  These  cap-pieces,  forming  the 
top  of  any  set,  are  at  the  same  time 
the  sills  or  base  of  the  next  set  above, 
the  postsj  as  the  sets  rise  one  above 
the  other  in  the  stope,  being  gene- 
rally placed  in  position  directly  over 
those  below."  "The  timbers  are 
usually  of  12-inch  stuff  square-hewn 
or  sawn."  Each  post  has  a  tenon  9 
inches  long  at  the  upper  end,  and  a 
tenon  of  2  inches  at  the  lower  end, 
which  fit  into  mortices  in  the  cap 


Fig.  72. 


id  sill  respectively;  and  "the 
sills  and  caps  have  short  tenons  on  each  end  and  shoulders  cut  to 
receive  the  ends  of  the  post  and  the  horizontal  cross  pieces."    The 
walls  of  the  excavation  are  sus-  , 
tained  by  a  lagging  of  3-inch 
or  4-inch  plcnk.      The  whole 
width  of  the  ore-body  is  stoped 
away  at  once,   and  its  place 
supplied    by    timbering,    and 
finally  the  vacant  space  is  filled 
with  waste  rock  derived  froi^ 
dead  work  in  the  mine  or  fr:' 
special    excavations,  —  undi;  r 
ground  quarries  in  fact, — in  L^..^i^  j^>\.u..vl.     T..^  ^.-^  ..._,:-.------ 

on  overhand,  starting  from  an  interDiediate  shaft  or  v.iu/e,  and  fig. 
73  will  exnkun  how  the  different  frames  are  built  up  one  above  the- 
other. 
Another  metfiod  of  working  a  wide  lode  is  to  attack  it  in  slices 


Iffl 

ipHPHI 

y 

T  ^ 

in. 

ms         :^- 

United  S(a(e%    Geological    Exploraticn  o/   the    PortUth 
;»ins  Industry,"  p.  U2. 


454 


MINING 


[exploitatioh. 


parallel  to  tho  dip,  working  away  each  slice  separately  as  if  it  were 

a  lode  of  ordinary  dimensions,  and  filling 

up  with  rubbish  (6g.  74). 
jWorking      We  now  come  to  Deds  or  seams.     The   - 
•jf  beds,    mode  of  working  the  most  important  beds 

that  occur  in  the  earth's  crust,  viz.,  coal 

seams,  has  already  been  described  in  the 

article    Coal    (vol.  vi.  p.   64  sq.),  and 

details  have  been  given  concerning  the  ^ 

removal  of  the  mineral  by  pUlar  working  ^v' 

and    long-wall    working.       Both    these  ^^ 

methods  are  applicable  in  tha  case  of  ^^ 

seams    of    other    minerals.      Such    for  ^*^ 

instance  are    the  beds  of  fireclay  and 

•clay-ironstone   which   are    wrought    by  ^'8  '* 

both  the  processes  just  mentioned,  and  often  in  connexion  mth  coal 
Next  in  importance  to  coal  is  ironstone,  and  a  brief  account  of 

the  workings  in  the  Cleveland  district  will  explain  the  manner  in 

which  more  than  one-third  of  the  iron  ore  raised  in  the  British  Isles 

is  obtained  by  mining.     It  resembles  the  ' '  bord  and  pUlar  "  system 

used  for  working  coal  in  Durham. 
ia«T6-  The  Cleveland  ore  occurs  in  the  fonn  of  a  bed  from  6  to  18  feet 

land         thick  in  tho  Middle  Lias,  lying  pretty  level.     A  mainway  (fig.  75) 
ironstone  is  driven  about  1 2  feet 
work-       ■wide  for  a  considerable 


■■ilga.         distance,    and    at  right 

angles   to    it    bords   are 

driven  5  yards  wide  for  a 

length  of  30  yards,  and 

then  at  right  angles  a 

wall  7  or  8  feet  wide  and 

20  yards  long.     By  driv- 

ages  of  this  kind  the  bed I 

is  cut  up  into  pillars  or  "H  T 

Wocks  30  3'ards  lopg  by 

20    yards    wide,       The 

pillars  are  subsequently 

removed  in  the  following 

■way.     A  place,  or  drift, 

ab,  6  feet  wide,  is  driven  Fig.  75. 

across' the  pillar  10  yards  from  the  comer,  and.  portions  (lifts)  about 

6  yards  wide  are  worked  away  in  tho  order  1,  2,  3.    After  No.  1  lift 

lias  been  removed,  the  timber  put  in  to  support  the  roof  temporarily 

'^  y'^T    '?'^'  ,^°''  *^  ^°°^  '=>  allowed  to  fall ;  No.  2  is  then  taken, 

and  No.  3  in  the  same  way.    While  these  Ufts  are  being  taken  out 

another  place  erf  is  being  driven  across  the  pillar  10  yards  from  the 

""',•  an''  the  pillar  removed  entirely  by  a  series  of  fresh  Ufts. 
^'''°™  Al^'  '°/''V^<'^eati  m  section  and  plan  the  chambera  and  pillars 
^oames.  ot  the  underground  gypsum  quarries 
which  sipply  the  well-known  plaster 
of  Paris  to  all  the  world.'  The 
principal  bed  is  from  60  to  60  feet  in 
thickness ;  pillars  are  left  10  feet 
square  at  the  base,  and  the  stalls 
between  them  are  1 6  feet  wide.  The 
■workings  are  slightly  arched,  and  are 
not  carried  up  to  tho  roof,  for  the 
purpose  of  better  maintaining  the 
security  of  the  chambers,  because 
heavy  damages  would  have  to  be 
paid  if  they  "caved  in"  and  ren- 
dered tlie  surface  useless.  A  simi- 
lar layer  left  for  the  floor  prevents 
creep  (see  Coal,  vol.  vi.  p.  64),  and  ^'8-  "6- 

enables  the  underground  roads  to  be  kept  in  good  repair. 

Underground   slate  quarries  afford    examples  of  very  various 

I.  methods  of  removing  thick  beds  of  mineral  of  comparatively  little 

intrinsic  value,     At  Angers  in  France,  where  the  beds  dip  at  a  high 

angle,  the  Uiidorground  workings  are  carried  on  like  an  openquaiTy 


Festiniog  district  in  North  Tyales  the  principal  bed,  or  vein  as  it  ia 
called,  is  more  than  100  feet  thick  in  places,  and  the  method  of 
working  consists  in  making  alternate  pillars  and  chambers  each  30 
feet  to  50  feet  wide  along  tne  strike  (cross-iection  and  plan,  figs.  77 
and  78).  Tho  pillars  follow  lines  of  natural  cross-rending  PP',  which 
commonly  make  an  angle  of  25°  to  35°  with  the  direction  of  the  dip. 
The  excavations  are  arranged  in  regular  lines,  and  form  continuous 
chambers  extending  very  often  from  the  surface  to  tlie  very  lowest 
workings.  A,B,C,D  are  theoriginal  working  levels.  Theslateofthe 
supporting  pillars  is  entirely  lost,  as  these  cannot  be  Venioved  with 
safety.  This  method  of  working  requires  a  strong  roof.  In  the 
Ardennes,  on  the  contrary,  the  pillars  are  carried  along  indefmitelv 
along  the  strike  (fig.  79,  cross-section).  The  slate  in  each  iongi- 
tudinal  chamber  is  removed  in  slices  parallel  to  the  bedding,  and 
the  men  stand  upon  tho  rubbish,  which  finally  fills  up  the  chamben 
completely. 

Rock-salt  constitutes  another  important  mineral  which  occurs  in  „ 
tho  form  of  stratified  deposits.    The  principal  source  of  the  Cheshire  ^' ' 
salt  13  a  bed  84  feet  thick  lying  horizontallv;  but  only  the  bottom 
part,  15  feet  to  18  feet  thick,  is  mined.    Pillars  10  yErditquare  arc 
left  promiscuously  about  25  yards  apart,  as  shown  iu  lig.  80,  whici 
represents  part  of  Maiston  Hall  rock-salt  mine.^    The  working 


□     Q 


a 


SUte 
guarries. 


Fig.  77. 


Fig.  78. 


Fio.  79. —A, A, 
pillars  of  slate ; 
B,  B,  rubbish  ; 
■C,C,slatecham- 
bcrs-Scaley^jj. 


under  a   trong  roof  of  slate  ;  the  floor  is  continually  being  worked 
away  in  steps,  and  an  immense  open  chamber  is  left.     In  the 

1  CalloD,  Lecturet  on  Hining,  vol.  U.  plate  xU, 


Fig.  SI. 
are  advanced  by  making  in  the  upper  part  an  excavation  5  feet  C 
inches  high,  called  the  roofing  [a,  fig.  81);  and  then  the  lowci 
two-thirds  of  the  part  worked  are  removed  by  blasting  slanting 
holes.  Many  of  tho  old  salt  mines  have  collapsed  from  weakness  o; 
the  roof  or  insufficiency  of  the  pillars,  and  have  become  inundated 
the  brine  is  then  extracted  by  pumping  and  evaporated  for  salt 

In  some  countries,  especially  when  the  beds  of  salt  are  impure  oi 
much  mixed  with  clay  or  shale,  the  formation  of  brine  is  conducted 
regularly  by  making  a  network  of  drivages  within  a  rectangular, 
elliptical,  or  circular  area  in  thick  beds  of  saliferous  marl,  and  then 
introducing  fresh  water  by  pipes,  so  as  to  form  underground  pondi 
which  gradually  dissolve  the  roof  and  sides.  The  brine  is  drawr 
off  and  either  pumped  up  or  conveyed  by  adits  to  the  surface. 

A  few  words  remain  to  be  saiS  about  open  workings.  Somt 
minerals  are  always  obtained  in  this  way ;  others  are  worked  oper  '^^  "^ 
before  regular  underground  mining  begins;  and,  thirdly,  it  olteu  "-floWP 
happens  that  underground  and  surface  work  are  both  carried  on 
simidtaneously  on  the  same  deposit.  Among  deposits  worked  open- 
cast are  peat,  numerous  kinds  of  stone,  iron  ore,  cupreous  pyrites, 
lead  ore,  gold-  and  tin-bearing  alluvia,  and  diamontiferous  rock. 

Owing  to  its  soft,  spongy,  and  fibrous  texture,  and  tho  fact  of  ita 
often  lying  below  the  water-level,  peat  has  to  be  worked  in  a 
special  manner.  Trenches  are  dug  about  a  foot  deep  with*  sharp 
spade,  which  cuts  out  sods  of  convenient  size  for  drj-jng  and  burning. 
When  one  layer  has  been  removed  in  this  way,  another  is  taken  oil*, 
and  so  on.  If  \vater  is  reached  the  working  can  still  iie  pursued  by 
using  the  long  spade  (grand  louchet,  France)  with  a  hsndle  of  16  or 
20  feet     It  cuts  out  a  so^  3  or  4  feet  long  at  each  thrjst. 

■When  a  deposit  is  more  or  less  solid  the  workingj  are  frequently 
arranged  in  steps,  the  height  and  breadth  of  each  depending  upon 
the  firmness  of  the  rock. 

In  many  cases  the  first  work  consists  in  removing  worthless  rock 
at  the  surface  (overburden),  and  where  the  underlying  deposit  is 
thick  or  very  valuable  it  will  pay  to  remove  a  veiy  great  thickness 
of  overburden,  on  account  of  tho  advantages  of  working  a  deposit 
open.  These  advantages  are — entire  removal  of  the  deposit  witnouf 
loss  in  pillars,  no  expense  for  timbering  or  for  packing  with  rubbish 
or  for  ventilating  or  lighting  che  workings,  better 
ventilation,  easier  supervision,  longer  working  hours, 
less  danger. 

As  an  example  of  a  largo  open  wcking  may  be 
mentioned  the  groat  Fenrhyn  slate  quarry  near  f 
gor,  employing  about  3000  hands,  jind  worked  by  a 
succession  of  terraces  on  an  average  CO  feet  high  by 
30fcetwide(fi2.  82).    Reference  has  ali-csdy  been  made  | 
to  tho  thick  lead-bearing  sandstoue  of  >Jechornich, 
which  is  in  part  worked  as  an  open  quarry.    Mokta-cl- 
Hadid,  near  Bona  in  Algeria,  and  the  Kio  Tinto  mines 
in  Spain,  afford  instances  of  extensive  combined  open  and  under- 
ground workings  for  iron  ore  and  cupriferous  pj-ritcs  respectively. 
Local  laws  regulating  tho  size  of  the  working  areas,  or  claim's. 


Fig.  82. 


CARKIAOB.] 


MINING 


455 


Diamond 


Evils  at- 

tcn<ling 

hy. 

draul:c 

minmg. 


Under- 
ground 
trans- 
port. 

Carriage 
by 


Slci,?'-!. 


"Vheel 
carriages. 


owned  by  Mparate  indiTiduak  or  companies,  considerably  affect  the 
methods  of  working-  This  is  especially  the  case  with  the  diamond 
deposits  of  South  Africa.  The  diamantiferous  rock  at  the  celebrated 
Kimberley  mine  (formerly  called  Colesbcrg  Kopje)  occurs  in  the 
shape  of  an  elliptical  upright  mass,  the  greatest  length  being  about 
330  yards  and  the  greatest  breadth  about  200  yards.  The  super- 
ficial area  is  about  9  acres;  the  mass  extendsdown wards  within  almost 
perpendicular  walls  of  shale,  and  is  worked  in  places  to  a  depth  of 
about  400  feet.  The  claims  are  only  31  feet  sfjuare,  and  are  more 
than  four  hundred  in  number,  and  these  have  in  some  instances  been 
subdivided  iuto  portions  as  small  as  the  sixteenth  of  a  claim;  but, 
as  at  the  present  time  one  company  may  own  very  many  claims,  the 
number  of  individual  holdings  is  less  numerous  than  formerly  when 
the  limit  was  tw»  claims.  The  working  is  carried  on  vertically 
downwards,  and,  as  the  claims  are  not  all  worked  at  the  same  rate, 
those  that  progress  most  rapidly  are  surrounded  by  perpendicular 
walls  of  neighbouring  claims.  The  shale,  or  rztf^  enclosing  the 
deposit  is  constantly  falling  into  the  huge  open  pit,  and  has  to  be 
cut  away  to  a  slope,  the  expense  of  this  work  being  charged  to  the 
claim-holders  generally  by  the  mining  board.  The  diamanti- 
ferous  rock  is  extracted  by  innumerable  \vire-rope  inclines. 

We  have  already  referred  to  the  method  of  workin"  gold-bearing 
alluvia  by  the  hydraulic  process,  which  has  rendered  such  services 
in  the  United  States  (Gold,  vol-  i.  p.  746).  At  the  same  time  one 
must  not  be  blind  to  the  evils  of  this  method  of  working,  which  have 
at  last  necessitated  legislative  interference.  Some  idea  of  the  extent 
of  the  mischievous  results  of  hydraulic  mining  will  be  gathered  from 
the  statement  that  one  working  alone,  the  Gold  Run  Ditch  and 
Mining  Company,  for  the  last  eight  years  has  been  discharging  4000 
to  5000  cubic  yards  of  sand,  gravel,  and  boulders  daily,  for  a  period 
of  five  months  each  year,  into  a  tributary  of  the  Sacramento.  As  a 
natural  consequence  deposits  are  formed  lower  down  the  river,  ob- 
structing the  navigable  channels,  rendering  overflows  more  frequent 
and  destructive,  and  causing  valuable  land  to  be  destroyed  by  de- 
posits of  sand.  The  superior  court  of  Sacramento  county,  California, 
Las  recently  decided  that  the  hydraulic  minin<^  companies  must 
build  dams  to  impound  the  coarse  and  heavy  debris,  or  take  other 
cCKcacious  means  to  prevent  their  being  washed  down  the  rivers. 

8.  Carriage  or  Transport  of  Minerals  along  the  Under- 
ground  Roads. — After  tte  mineral  lias  been  broken  down 
ia  a  deposit  it  is  necessary  to  pick  out  any  barren  rock  and 
then  convey  to  the  surface  all  that  is  of  value. 

The  simplest  and  oldest  method  of  transport  along 
underground  roads  is  carriage  on  the  back,  and  this  method 
may  still  be  seen  at  the  present  day  even  in  countries 
where  the  art  of  mining  is  generally  highly  advanced. 
Thus,  for  instance,  in  the  little  slate  mines  near  Cochem 
on  the  iloselle  men  and  lads  carry  up  all  the  blocks  of 
slate  upon  their  backs,  walking  upon  steps  cut  in  the  rock ; 
they  come  up  with  their  hands  upon  the  ground  bent 
almost  double  under  the  weight  of  the  block,  which  rests 
upon  a  thick  pad.  Again,  the  blocks  of  slate  are  stUI 
carried  on  the  back  from  the  actual  working  place  to  the 
nearest  tram-road,  in  the  slate  mines  of  the  Ai'dennes.  In 
the  Sicilian  sulphur  mines  the  same  method  is  common, 
and  it  is  found  also  in  parts  of  Spain  and  China,  where 
baskets  are  used,  whilst  bags  are  employed  in  Mexico  and 
also  in  Japan.  Even  in  England  the  system  still  survives 
in  the  Forest  of  Dean,  where  boys  carry  iron  ore  in  wooden 
trays  from  the  very  irregular  ore-producing  cavities  either 
to  the  surface  or  to  the  nearest  shaft. 

Sledges,  or  sleds,  enable  greater  loads  to  be  transported ; 
but  they  are  not  available  unless  the  conveyance  is  along 
roads  sloping  downwards.  They  have  been  largely 
employed  in  coal  mines,  and  are  still  resorted  to  in  some 
collieries  for  conveying  the  coal  from  the  working  place  to 
the  nearest  tram-road. 

We  next  come  to  wheeled  carriages.  The  simplest  is  the 
wheelbarrow.  The  barrow  used  in  Cornwall  at  the  present 
;lay  is  not  unlike  that  figured  more  than  three  centuries 
ago  by  Agricola.  The  navvy's  barrow  is  more  advan- 
tageous, but  it  requires  a  wider  and  higher  level.  The 
barrow  runs  upon  the  natural  floor  of  the  level,  upon 
boards,  or  upon  thin  strips  of  iron.  Carts  dravm  by  horses 
may  be  used  in  large  underground  quarries.  Excepting  in 
special  cases  it  is  advisable  to  replace  barrows  by  waggons 
running  upon  rails.     The  oldest  form  is  the  German  Hund. 


It  consists  of  a  rectangular  wopden  body,  with  four  wheels, 
resting  upon  two  boards  as  rails,  and  it  is  kept  on  tha 
track  by  a  pin  which  runs  between  the  boards. 

Cast-iron  tram-plates  were  introduced  in  the  last  century, 
and  were  finally  succeeded  by  iron  rails,  which  are  now  ia 
general  use,  though  steel  threatens  to  displace  iron  in  this 
as  in  other  departments  of  mining.  Various  forms  of  rail 
are  employed.  The  simplest  is  a  bar  of  iron  set  on  its 
edge  in  transverse  sleepers,  or  flat  iron  nailed  to  longitudinal 
sleepers.  Small  T-headed  and  bridge  rails  are  not 
uncommon.  In  the  Harz  the  rails  sometimes  lie  on  stone 
sleepers ;  a  hole  is  bored  in  the  stone,  plugged  with  wood, 
and  the  rail  is  nailed  on.  The  gauge  varies  from  14  inches 
to  3  feet  or  more ;  20  inches  to  22  inches  is  a  common  gauge 
in  metal  mines.  Arrangements  of  course  have  to  be  made 
for  passing  from  one  line  to  another  by  points ;  but  the 
transference  is  frequently  best  effected  by  putting  down  flat 
plates  of  cast  iron,  upon  the  smooth  surface  of  which  the 
waggons  can  be  handled  with  ease  and  turned  in  any  direc- 
tion ;  raised  ledges  guide  the  wheels  into  any  particular  track. 

The  form  and  size  of  the  waggons  running  upon  the  rails 
necessarily  vary  according  to  the  size  of  the  underground 
roads  and  the  manner  in  which  the  mineral  is  raised  in  the 
shaft.  In  some  mines  the  practice  exists  of  loading  the 
mineral  in  the  level  into  an  iron  bucket  (k-ibble)  standing 
upon  a  trolley,  which  is  merely  a  small  platform  upon 
wheels.  This  trolley  is  pushed  (trammed)  to  the  shaft ; 
the  full  kibble  is  hooked  on  to  the  winding-rope  and  drawn 
up,  whilst  an  empty  kibble  is  placed  upon  the  trolley  and 
trammed  back  along  the  level,  where  it  is  again  loaded 
from  a  shoot  (mill,  pass)  or  by  the  shovel.  The  usual  plan, 
however,  is  to  have  a  waggon,  which  is  tipped  on  coming 
to  an  enlargement  of  the  shaft  (plat,  lodge)  where  the  level 
joins  it.  These  waggons  may  be  made  of  wood  or  sheet- 
iron,  and  of  late  years  sheet-steel  for  the  body  and  cast- 
steel  for  the  wheels  have  been  coming  into  favour. 

The  most  modem  system  in  metal  mines  is  to  imitate 
collieries,  and  use  waggons  which  are  drawn  up  in  cages. 
Fig.  83  represents  the  plain  but  strong  waggon  of  the  Van 
mines,  consisting  of  a  rectangular 
body  of  sheet-iron  resting  on  an 
oak  frame,  and  provided  with 
cast-steel  wheels.  The  wheels  are 
loose  upon  the  axles,  which  them-  C 
selves  run  loose  in  the  pedestals. 
The  waggon  is  emptied  by  being 
run  on  to  a  "  tippler,"  which  enables  it  to  be  completely  over- 
turned with  great  ease.  A  commoner  plan  is  to  construct 
the  waggon  with  a  hinged  door  at  one  end,  and  the  contents 
are  discharged  by  opening  this  door  and  raising  the  body. 

The  motive  power  for  tramming  waggons  along  the  levels  of 
metal  mines  is  generally  supplied  by  men  or  boys,  though,  where 
large  quantities  have  to  be  extracted,  and  where  the  roads  are 
favourable,  recourse  may  be  had  to  ponies  and  horses  and  the  various 
kinds  of  mechanical  haulage  described  in  Coal,  vol.  vi.  p.  69.  ' 

Trains  of  cars  are  sometimes  drawn  along  imdergrouna  railways 
by  locomotives ;  they  have  the  great  disadvantage  of  polluting  the 
air  with  the  products  of  combustion,  and  consequently  they  are  not 
available  unless  the  ventilation  is  very  good.  A  small  locomotive  of 
2  horse-power  nominal  is  tised  on  an  IS^-inch  track  in  the  adit-level 
of  the  Great  Laxey  mine  (Isle  of  Man),  now  approaching  a  mile  in 
length,  and  full-sized  locomotives  ply  along  the  adit  of  the  Rio 
Tinto  mines.  Locomotives  worked  by  compressed  air  improve  the 
ventilation  instead  of  injuring  it,  and  are  not  a  source  of  danger  in 
cases  where  fire-damp  may  be  present ;  but,  except  in  special  cases, 
they  cannot  be  worked  so  cheaply  as  engines  fired  with  coal.  Con- 
veyance by  electric  railroads  underground  has  hardly  gone  bej'ond 
the  experimental  stage,  but  the  results  obtained  at  the  Zaukerodt 
colliery  in  Saxony'  show  that  electricity  can  be  applied  with  profit 
in  this  department  of  mining.  '  i>    •«. 

A  few  instances  of  transport  by  boats  may  still  be  met  with.  BoMt 
The  boats  used  in  the  underground  canal  at  Klausthal  are  31  feat 


'  Jahrlmch  fir  das  Bn-g-  und  Biittemcesen  I 
avf  das  Jf"' isn't   r-  50 


%  Kmigreicfie  SacMCK 


456 


MINING 


[v/INDIKO. 


Wmduig. 


long  by  4  fett  6  inches  wide,  and  2  feet  11  inches  deep,     liach  boat 
cames  6  or  6  tons. 

Where  roads  have  a  strone  gradient,  inclmea  pianes  are 
employed,  either  self-acting  if  tne  mineral  has  to  be  lowered,  or 
worked  by  stationary  engines  if  the  mineral  has  to  be  raised 
(see  Coal,  vol.  vi.  p.  69). 

9.  Winding/,  or  Raising  in  the  Shafts,  with  the  Machinery 
and  Apparatus  required. — In  speaking  of  the  transport  by 
underground  roads,  we  mentioned  that  the  mineral  is  occa- 
sionally brought  to  the  surface  on  the  backs  of  men  or  boys. 
In  other  cases  daylight  is  reached  by  adit-levels  provided 
with  railroads  ;  but  in  by  far  the  greater  number  of  mines  it 
is  necessary  to  hoist  the  mineral,  and  often  much  rubbish, 
up  vertical  or  inclined  pits  generally  known  as  shafts. 

In  beginning  to  sink  a  shaft  from  the  surface,  or  in 
sinking  a  winze,  hand-power  applied  by  a  windlass  is 
sufficient.  The  broken  rock  at  the  bottom  of  the  shaft  is 
shovelled  into  a  wooden  or  iron  bucket  (kibble),  which  is 
drawn  up  by  a  rope  passing  round  the  barrel  of  the  wind- 
lass. When  a  depth  of  20  or  30  yards  has  been  reached 
it  is  more  advantageous  to  introduce  horse-power,  and  the 
usual  machine  by  which  this  power  is  applied,  called  a  gin 
or  horse-whim,  is  a  common  sight  in  many  metalliferous 
districts.  It  consists  of  a  vertical  axis  carrying  a  barrel 
or  drum  8  to  12  feet  in  diameter,  round  which  is  coiled 
the  rope,  which  after  passing  over  a  pulley  hangs  down  the 
shaft.  The  axis  carries  an  iron  pin  at  each  end,  the  lower 
one  working  in  a  stone  and  the  upper  one  in  a  socket  m 
the  span-beam  or  cross-bar  of  the  supporting  frame. 
Under  the  barrel  is  a  long  driving  beam  to  which  a  bovss 
is  harnessed,  and,  as  will  be  readily  understood,  the  kibble 
is  drawn  up  or  lowered  down  as  the  horse  walks  round. 
rt  is  most  economical  to  have  two  kibbles,  for  then  they 
balance  each  other. 

■Where  steam  and  water-power  are  not  available,  a  large 
number  of  horses  or  mules  are  sometimes  harnessed  to 
whims,  and  ore  raised  from  depths  of  200  fathoms.  _  These, 
however,  are  exceptional  cases;  and,  especially  since  the 
introduction  of  portable  engines,  the  use  of  steam-power 
even  for  comparatively  small  depths,  such  as  100  yards,  is 
daily  increasing.  In  hilly  districts  water-power  is  generally 
at  hand,  and  huge  reservoirs  are  frequently  constructed  for 
storing  the  rainfall,  and  so  affording  an  adequate  and  conr 
slant  supply.  It  may  be  utilized  by  water-wheels,  turbines, 
and  water-pressure  engines. 

There  are  three  systems  of  winding  by  steam  or  water- 
power  which  are  in  regular  use  :— (1)  by  buckets  (kibbles), 
baskets,  or  bags  swinging  loose  in  the  shafts ;  (2)  by  boxes 
•working  between  guides  (skips,  Cornwall);  (3)  by  cages 
carrying  one  or  more  waggons. 

Tlie  buckets  are  made  of  wood,  sheet-iron,  or  sheet-steel.  Their 
'  shape  varies  ;  it  may  be  round  or  elliptical,  straight  m  the  side 
or  bulging  in  the  middle.  Fig.  84  represents  a 
kibble  made  of  sheet-iron.  When  the  shaft  is 
inclined,  the  side  upon  which  the  kibble  slides 
is  carefully  lined  witti  boards  (Icd-planks)  resting 
■upon  cross  sleepers.  Planks  of  hard  ivood  like 
beech  last  longer  and  require  fewer  repairs  than 
deal  boards,  in  the  Harz,  poles  fixed  lengthwise 
take  the  place  of  boards,  which  are  customary  in 
Great  Britain.  Even  where  shafts  are  perpen- 
dicular a  lining  of  planks  is  often  put  in  round 
the  winding  compartment,  unless  the  space  is 
considerable,  and  the  kibble  then  glides  up 
smoothly,  and  there  is  less  risk  of  accidents.  A 
more  modern  system  is  to  use  wive-ropo  guides 
for  the  kibble,  which  is  thus  kept  from  swinging 
about.     Another  ndvantiigo  of  this  plan  is  that  ,  f  ,  ,u„ 

a  licht  catre  can  easilv  be  substituted  for  the  kibble  and  used  for  the 
ascentaml  descent  of  the  men.  Mr  Galloway  has  patented  a  method 
of  Binkinc  shafts  with  wire-rope  guides,  the  upper  ends  of  which  are 
coiled  upon  drums  at  the  surface.  By  adopting' this  oxiK-dient  tlio 
Buides  can  be  lengthened  as  the  shaft  is  deepened. 

A  word  must  be  e.aid  about  the  actual  loading  and  emptying  of 
the  kibble.  Sometimes,  as  already  mentioned,  the  kibble  is  ill.-d 
at  the  working  place  or  from  a  shoot  (/ja-a,  Cornwall)  carried  down 


into  the  level,  and  then  conveyed  on  a  troUey  to  the  shaft,  where 
it  is  hooked  on  to  the  rope  and  drawn  up.  More  frequently  the 
filler  standing  in  the  plui  loads  the  kibble  with  a  shovel ;  and  in 
order  to  save  time  two  kibbles  are  often  provided,  one  being  iilled 
while  the  other  is  making  the  journey  to  and  from  the  surface.  ^" 
this  case  it  is  necessary  to  have  some  kind  of  clevis,  which  will 
enable  the  kibble  to  be  readily  detached  from  the  winding-rope,  and 
quickly  and  securely  fastened  on  again.  On  its  arriving  at  the  surfaco 
the  lander  seizes  an  eye  or  ring  at  the  bottom  of  the  kibble  by  a 
pair  of  tongs  suspended  by  a  chain,  and  the  rope  is  now  lowered.  The 
kibble  is  thus  turned  over  and  the  contents  fall  into  a  tram -waggon. 
The  inconveniences  of  this  method  of  winding  are  considerable, 
especially  in  inclined  shafts  where  the  direction  and  amount  oii 
the  inclination  are  not  constant.  There  is  great" wear  and  tear  of 
the  bed-plank  and  casing-boards  ;  and,  unless  constant  attention 
is  paid  to  repairs,  places  are  worn  out  where  the  kibble  catches, 
cahsing  the  rope  to  break.  The  fall  of  a  kibble  and  its  contents 
not  only  does  much  damage  to  the  shaft,  but  also  is  a  source  of 
danger  to  the  men.  The  introduction  of  boxes  {skips)  working  Skipi. 
between  guides  or  conductors  was  therefore  a  decided  step  in 
advance,  for  the  system  allows  the  winding  to  be  carried  on  with 
less  friction  and  with  greater  rapidity  and  safety.  The  guides  are 
often  made  of  pieces  of  timber  (like  r,  fig.  53)  bolted  to  the  end- 
pieces  and  Jividings.  It  is  only  in  perpendicular  shafts  that  guides 
made  of  wire-rope  or  iron  rods  can  be  applied.  The  skip  is  a  box 
of  rectangular  section  made  of  sheet-iron  or  sheet-steel,  with  a 
sloping  bottom,  and  provided  with  a  hinged  door  closed  by  a  bolt  for 
discharging  its  contents.     Fig.  86 '  shows  how  the  skip  rune  upon 


Fig.  84. 


the  guides  by  means  of  four  cast-iron  or  (better)  cast -steel  wheels. 
In  an  inclined  shaft  the  guides  sometiuies  have  iron  rails  laid  on 
them  so  as  to  diminish  the  wear.  Some  of  the  skips  in  Cornwall 
are  made  to  hold  as  much  as  a  ton  and  a  half  of  tiu-bearing  rock. 
The  skip  is  filled  with  a  shovel  by  a  man  standing  in  the  plat,  but 
a  better  plan  is  to  arrange  shoots  leading  from  largo  hoppers,  so 
that  the  ore  can  be  made  to  run  in  without  any  shoveUing.  The 
skip  is  sometimes  tilted  completely  over  instead  of  being  emptied 
bv  a  hinged  door ;  this  arrongement  is  in  use  m  some  of  the  German 
mines,  where  the  skip  is  made  of  wood,  and  is  guided  on  each  side 
bv  two  pins  or  rollers  running  between  two  conductors.  W  hen 
the  «kip  has  reached  the  surfaco  t»o  catches  arc  mude  to  support 
the  low'er  rollers,  whilst  the  upper  ones  pass  through  openings  in 
the  front  guides,  and  the  skip,  turning  upon  the  lower  ones,  18 
tipped  over  and  so  emptied.  ,.       .     v  .,,„.•    r.,. 

The  most  satisfactory  system  of  winding  is  by  cages  ;  there  is  (..ato. 
less  handling  of  the  mineral,  and  the  hoisting  jirocceds  at  far  greater 
speed      This  system,  which  is  almost  universal   lu  collieries,  is 
employed  also  lor  working  deposits  of  other  minerals,  and,  tuough 

~M^i^iet,  Annates  dcs  Mines,  m:  0,  vol.  ii.,  1862,  plate  vU. 


DRAINAGE.] 


MINING 


457 


i  n  Tein-mimog  the  skip  and  kibble  still  prerail  in  England,  the 
manAgers  are  beginning  to  recognize  the  advantages  of tbe  cage  and 
equip  ^eir  mines  with  more  modern  appliances  than  hare  hitherto 
been  cnstomarr.  The  cagea  used  in  the  mines  on  the  Comstock 
lode  are  very  light  and  simple  in  construction,  as  will  be  seen  from 
fig.  86.     Thn  cage  in  fact  is  a  mere  timber  platform,  5  feet  by  4, 


Fio.  88. — Cage  used  in  Comstock  Lode. 
resting  on  iron  bars  p,  and  supported  by  iron  rods  on  each  side. 
It  is  provided  with  a  sheet-iron  bonnet  to  protect  the  men  if  they  are 
inside,  and  also  with  safety  catches  (,  t,  wnich  come  into  play  if  the 
rope  breaks.  The  hand  levers  k,  k  at  the  ends  of  the  cage  rarse  up 
clocks  which  keep  the  car  in  iti  place  during  the  ascent  or  descent  j 
g,  g  are  guides  for  the  end  oL  the  crossbar  b  ;  c,  bar  working  teeth 
tft  by  levers;  /,  "ear"  or  "shoe"  embracing  the  guide-rod  in 
shaft ;  r,  lifting  bar  ;  5,  strong  spring. 

The  most  important  details  concerning  the  use  of  cages,  ropes, 
and  other  hoisting  appliances  such  as  pulleys,  pulley-frames, 
detacliing  hooks,  and  winding  engines,  have  already  been  set  forth 
in  the  article  Coal,  vol.  vi.  p.  74;  and  it  is  therefore  needless 
to  repeat  these  particulars,  especially  as  the  art  of  winding  mineral 
cheaply,  speedily,  and  safely  has  been  carried  to  a  far  greater  pitch 
of  perfection  in  collieries  than  in  the  majority  of  metal  mines.  It 
is  often  convenient  to  fix  winding  engines  underground  for  the 
purpose  of  sinking  shafts  and  winzes,  and  drive  them  by  com- 
pressed air  brought  down  in  pipes  from  the  surface. 
Koepc  The  Koepe  system  of  winding,  which  appears  to  be  viewed  with 
system,  favotir  on  the  Continent,  consists  in  having  what  is  practically  an 
endless  rope  with  one  large  sheave  over  the  shaft,  in  the  place  of 
the  two  drums.  There  are  two  cages,  and  the  rope  below  them 
acts  as  a  coimterbalance,  so  that  the  load  is  uniform  throughout. 
Blsn-  fhe  most  novel  hoisting  apparatus  is  that  of  Jl.  Blanchet  (Coal,  ' 

chefs  Tol.  vi.  p.  76),  which  has  now  been  regularly  at  work  in  the  Hot- 
method,  tinguer  -shaft  at  ^pinac  in  Franco  for  the  last  six  years.  M. 
Blanchet's  method  consists  in  fixing  in  the  shaft  a  large  pipe  in 
which  is  arranged  a  piston  ;  from  this  is  suspended  a  cage'  carr^nng 
waggons.  By  exhausting  the  air  above  the  piston  the  load  is 
gradually  forced  up  by  the  atmospheric  pressure  below  it.  The 
Hottinguer  shaft  is  660  yards  deep,  and  the  pipe  is  B  feet  3  inches 
in  diameter,  made  up  of  a  succession  of  cylindei-s  of  sheet-iron 
about  -fz  inch  thick  and  4  feet  4  inches  high,  joined  by  flanges  and 
holts.  Tlie  485  rings  composing  the  long  pipe  weigh  altogether 
418  statute  tons.  The  cage  has  nine  decks,  and  arrangements  are 
made  for  unloading  throe  at  a  time ;  each  waggon  holds  half  a  ton, 
so  that  the  total  useful  load  is  4.^  tons.  The  speed  of  hoisting  is 
20  feet  per  second.  If  two  hoisting  pipss  are  connected  the  dead 
weights  may  be  made  to  balance  each  ether,  and  the  power 
required  is  simply  that  which  is  necessary  to  overcome  the  weight 
of  the  useful  load.  All  the  men  prefer  the  pnanmatic  hoist  to  the 
ordinary  cage  for  descending  and  ascending  the  mine,  and  are 
regularly  lowered  and  raised  by  it  The  advantages  claimed  by  M. 
Blanchet  for  this  system  are— (1)  the  possibility  of  hoisting  from 
depths  at  which  rope-winding  would  no  longer  be  practicable  ;  (2) 
getting  rid  of  the  costly  ropes  and  dangers  connected  with  rope- 
winding ;  (3)  better  utilization  of  the  engiije  power;  (4)  improve- 
ment of  the  ventilation  and  diminution  of  the  amount  of  firedamp. 
10.  Drainage. ^~T\iQ  mineral  having  been  raised  to  the 
urface,  the  task  of  the  miner  might  appear  to  be  at  an 


end ;  but  this  is  not  the  case,  for  it  is  further  necessary 
that  he  should  keep  his  mine  free  from  water  and  foul 
air.  These  two  indispensable  operations  of  draining  and 
ventilating  frequently  require  special  appliances  which  add 
considerably  to  the  g^ieral  cost  of  mining. 

In  all  cases  where  it  is  possible,  endeavours  should  be  Dralnao*. 
made  to  keep  the  water  out  of  a  mine,  so  as  to  save  the 
expense  of  pumping  it ;  and  the  method  of  putting  in  a 
Watertight  lining  {tubbing)  in  a  shaft  has  been  already 
described  (Coal,  vol  vi  p.  62).  When  large  streams  of 
water  happen  Uj  be  intersected  by  underground  work- 
ings, and  threaten  to  overpower  the  available  pumping 
machinery,  or  when  it  is  advisable  to  save  the  expense 
of  draining  abandoned  workings,  the  entry  of  this  water 
into  the  mine  may  often  be  prevented  by  stoppings, 
called  damsj  constructed  of  timber  or  brickwork. 

In  spite  of  all  precautions,  the  miner  generally  has  to 
contend  with  water  which  percolates  into  the  workings. 
Four  methods  of  getting  rid  of  this  water  are  available, 
viz.,  adits,  siphons,  winding  machinery,  and  pumps. 

An  adit,  day-level,  or  sough  is  a  nearly  horizontal  tunnel  Adits, 
with  one  end  opening  at  the  surface,  allowing  the  water  to 
drain  away  naturally.  In  hilly  countries  mines  are  often 
worked  entirely  by  adits,  and  even  when  a  mine  is  deepened 
below  the  drainage  level  the  utility  of  the  adit  is  still 
threefold ; — it  lessens  the  quantity  of  water  which  tends 
to  percolate  into  the  lower  workings ;  it  lessens  the  depths 
to  which  the  water  has  to  be  pumped ;  and,  by  f umishiDg 
a  certain  amount  of  fall,  it  enables  water  to  be  applied  as 
power.  On  account  of  these  important  advantages  some 
very  long  and  costly  adits  have  been  driven  for  the  purpose 
of  aiding  the  miners  in  certain  metalliferous  districts. 

Thus  in  the  Harz  the  Ernest  Augustus  adit  ("Ernst  August 
StoUn")  has  been  driven  a  distance  of  nearly  6§  miles  into  the  Klaus- 
thai  district.  The  total  length  of  the  adit,  including  the  branches, 
is  no  loss  than  14  miles.  It  intersects  many  of  the  lodes  at  a  depth 
of  upwards  of  400  yards  fi-cm  the  surface.  The  total  cost  of  thia 
adit  is  estimated  at  £85,500. 

Another  long  adit  is  the  celebrated  "Rothschouberger  Stolln," 
which  unwatcrs  some  of  the  most  important  mines  at  Freiberg  in 
Saxony.  The  length  of  the  main  or  trunk  adit  is  more  than  8^  miles ; 
the  gradient  of  the  greater  part  of  it  is  only  1  "18  inch  in  100  yards. 
The  branches  of  this  adit  among  the  mines  arc  more  than  16  miles 
in  length,  so  that  the  total  length  of  the  main  adit  with  its 
branches  amounts  to  nearly  25  miles.  Slany  of  the  mines  are  now 
drained  naturally  to  a  depth  of  250  to  300  yards.  The  cost  of  the 
main  tunnel  was  £359, 334,  or  nearly  £24  per  yard,  but  this  includes 
the  cost  ofei"ht  shafts,  heavy-  exi>enses  for  pumping  from  these 
shafts,  the  wallin^of  the  adit  for  %  mile,  and  all  general  expenses. 
The  length  of  time  occupied  in  driving  this  adit  was  thirty-three 
years.  The  "Kaiser  Josef  11.  Erbstolln  "_  in  Hungary  is  another 
remarkable  mining  tunnel,  which  was  commenced  in  1782,  and  com- 
pleted in  1378  at  a  total  cost  of  4,599,000  florins.  It  is  10^  miles 
in  length,  extending  from  the  valley  of  the  river  Gran  to  "the 
town  of  Scheninitz,  where  it  intersects  the  lodes  at«depths  varying 
from  300  to  600  yards  according  to  the  contour  of  the  surface. 

In  Cornwall  the  Great  County  adit  was  driven  for  the  purpose 
of  relieving  the  Gwennap  mines  of  their  water,  and  it  was  pushed  on 
nearly  to  Redruth.  This  adit  differs  frpm  the  great  works  under- 
taken in  Germany  by  the  fact  that  it  commences  in  the  mining 
district,  and,  though  the  length  of  all  the  drivages  amounts  to  more 
than  30  miles,  the  water  from  the  most  distant  mine  does  not  run 
more  than  about  6  miles  before  reaching  daylight.  The  average 
depth  is  only  70  or  SO  yards  from  the  surface.  In  fact  this  great 
adit,  though  a  work  of  great  utility  when  the  Gwennap  distiict 
was  in  a  flourishing  condition,  is  merely  a  network  of  comparatively 
shallow  drivages,  often  along  the  lodes  themselves,  among  the 
mines,  and  therefore  for  boldness  of  execution  cannot  for  one 
moment  be  compared  to  the  great  Schemnitz,  Fi'eiberg,  and 
Klausthal  drainage  tunnels  which  have  just  been  mentioned.  The 
Blackett  iJevcl  in  Northumberland  is  an  adit  which  has  been 
driven  a  distance  of  about  4f  miles,  and  it  will  have  to  be  extended 
about  2  miles  further  before  reaching  Allcnheads.  Its  depth  from 
the  surface  at  this  place  will  be  about  200  yards. 

The  main  part  of  the  Halkyn  tunnel  in  Flintshire  is  2  milea 
1256  yards  in  length,  and  the  branch  driven  out  to  Rhosesmor 
mine  intersected  the  vein  at  a  distance  of  809  yards,  making 
a  total  of  about  3^  miles,  TLs  greatest  denth  fVom  the  sui'faca 
is  230  yaiUs,  and  the  avei-ago  denth  in  Halkyn  Mountain  about 
XYI.  —  58 


458 


MINING 


[deainage. 


215  yards.  The  length  and  depth  of  this  adit  arc  not  remarkable; 
but  the  great  quantity  of  water  discharged  is  a  point  of  considerable 
interest  and  importance.  It  is  estimated  that  this  adit  is  now 
discharging  15  million  gallons  or  66,000  tons  of  water  in  twenty- 
four  hours,  although  the  outflow  is  purely  natural,  for  no  mines 
are  pumping  water  into  it.  It  is  now  easy  to  understand  that 
the  Rhosesmor  mine,  though  provided  with  powerful  pumping 
machinery,  was  unablo  to  cope  with  the  springs  it  encountered. 

In  the  United  States  the  famous  Sutro  timnel  is  an  adit  of  which 
the  main  branch,  4  miles  in  length,  reaches  the  great  Comstock  lode 
in  Nevada  at  a  depth  of  1700  feet.  The  total  cost  of  this  tunnel, 
which  was  completed  in  nine  years,  is  estimated  to  have  been 
$7,000,000.  The  quantity  of  water  running  out  daily  in  1S79  was 
12,000  tons,  at  a  temperature  of  123°  Fahr.  at  the  mouth  of  the 
tunnel.  All  this  water  must  otherwise  have  been  pumped  to  the 
surface  at  a  cost  estimated  at  S3000  a  day.  The  obstacles  to 
,  progress  were  very  great :  not  only  was  the  heat  extreme,  but 
swelling  ground  was  encountered  which  snapped  the  strongest 
timber.  Thanks,  however,  to  the  untiring  energy  of  Mr  Adolph 
Suti-o,  the  difficulties  were  at  last  successfully  overcome,  and  this 
great  work  will  long  remain  as  a  monument  to  his  foresight,  skill, 
and  patient  pertinacity. 

The  Atlantic-Pacific  tunnel,'  which  was  commenced  in  1880,  mil 
pierce   the  heart  of  the   Rocky  MounUins  under  Grey's   Peak, 
Colorado.    It  is  being  driven  from  both  sides  of  the  watershed,  and 
will  have  a  total  length  of  4J  miles  from  end  to  end. 
Siphcrs.      Siphons   have  been  used  for  unwatering  workings   in 
special  cases ;  but  of  course  they  will  not  act  unless  the 
barrier  over  which  the  water  is  raised  is  very  decidedly  less 
than  33  feet. 
Winding      When  workings  cannot  be  drained  by  tunnels  or  siphons 
machm-  it  is  necessary  to  raise  the  water  mechanically,  either  to 
the  surface  or  at  all  events  to  an  adit  through  which  it 
can  flowaway  naturally.     If  the  amount  of  water  is  not 
too  considerable,  it  is  often  convenient  to  use  the  winding 
machinery  and  draw  up  the  water  in  special  buckets  {loater- 
barrels)  or  tanks.     The  bucket  May  be  tilted  over  on  reach- 
ing the  surface,  or  it  may  be  emptied  by  a  valve  at  the 
bottom.     This  means   of  raising  water  is  often  adopted 
while  sinking  shafts,  when  it  may  be  desirable  to  wait  till 
the  whole  or  a  portion  of  the  shaft  is  completed  before 
putting  in  the  final  pumping  machinery. 
Puiiips.       The  varieties  of  pumps  used  in  mines  are  numerous.     In 
small  sinkings  hand-pumps,  either  direct-acting  or  rotary, 
may  be  applied ;  steam-jet  pumps  on  the  principle  of  the 
_     Giffard  injectors  are  also  used ;  and  pulsometers,  though 
requiring  a  large  expenditure  of  steam,  have  the  advantages 
of  being  quickly  fixed,  of  occupying  little  space,  and  of 
working^  with  sandy  or  muddy  water.     They  are  capable, 
therefore,    of   rendering   great   services   in  special   cases. 
When  wc  come   to   the  definitive  machinery   erected  in 
large  mines  of  considerable  depth,  we  find  that  the  pre- 
vailing types  of  pumps  are  few.     They  may  be  classified 
as  follows  :— (A)  lifting-  and  force  pumps  worked  by  rods 
m  the  .shaft  actuated  by  wind,  water,  or  steam  power  ;  (B) 
force-pumps  at  the  bottom  of  the  shaft  worked  by  steam, 
compressed  air,  or  hydraulic  pressure. 

_  A.  In  describing  tlie  first  method  we  have  to  consider  the  motive 
power,  the  rods,  and  the  actual  pumps  themselves. 

W  indnjiUs  have  the  disadvantage,  wdiich  is  often  fatal,  that  the 
po\yer  is  not  constant.  By  erecting  an  auxiliary  steam-engine, 
which  can  be  set  to  work  if  wind  fads,  this  evil  is  overcome  ;  and 
at  the  Mona  mines  in  Anglcsea  a  windmill  pumps  up  water  from  a 
oeptli  of  80  fathoms  at  the  rate  of  upwards  of  90  gallons  per 
minute  As  the  site  of  tlie  mine  is  breezy,  there  is  wind  enough  to 
work  the  null  about  one-half  of  the  time. 

_  Water-power  was  for  a  long  period  the  principal  agent  employed 
in  diainmg  mines,  and  it  is  still  of  the  greatest  utility  in  many 
districts,  reservoirs  being  constructed  to  collect  and  store  the 
rainfall.  Some  idea  of  the  scale  upon  which  these  works  are 
conducted  will  bo  gathered  from  the  following  figures  relating  to 
the  Harz  mines.  In  1868  there  were  " 6i.\tyseven  reservoirs 
S?IT,,'!?„^"  ^^%^  "'■  ^"^  ^"'^^-  ""'•  liiving  a  storage  capacity  of 
336,000,000  cubie  feet."=    The  total  length  of  the  various  Icats, 


Mininrj  and  Scientific  Press,  San  Francisco,  1882,  vol.  xlv.  p.  241. 
'Notes  on  tiio  new  Deep  Adit  in  the  Upper  Harz  Mines,"  by  H. 
BiMnam   Hcport  of  the  Miners'  Association  of  Cornwall  and  Beam- 
thtrc,  1868,  p.  21. 


races,  and  other  water-courses,  including  the  six  principal  adits,  is 
about  170  statute  miles.  The  net  power  extracted  is  reckoned  at  1870 
horae-power,  but  less  than  one-fourth  of  this  is  used  for  pumping. 

Water-power  is  applied  to  pumping  machinery  by  water-wheels, 
turbines,  and  rotary  or  non-rotary  water-pressure  engines.  Except- 
ing the  case  of  the  latter,  the  rotary  motion  has  to  be  converted  into  a 
reciprocating  motion  by  a  crank ;  and  furthermore  with  turbines  the 
speed  must  be  reduced  very  considerably  by  intermediate  gearing. 

Overshot  wheels  are  the  commonest  prime  movers  when  pumps 
are  worked  by  water-power;  water-wheels  are  frequently  constructed 
40  or  60  feet  in  diameter,  aud  at  the  Great  Laxey  mine,  in  the  Isle 
ot  Man,  one  of  the  wheels  is  no  less  than  72  feet  6  inches  in  diameter 
and  6  feet  in  the  breast.  The  power  is  conveyed  from  the  water- 
wheel  by  a  connecting  rod  to  a  bell-crank  {bob)  placed  over  the  shaft ; 
and  when,  owing  to  the  contour  of  the  ground,  the  wheel  has  to  bo 
placed  at  a  distance,  it  is  connected  to  the  bob  by  the  so-called /a< 
ro(h,  made  of  wood,  bars  of  iron,  or  wire-rope,  travelling  backwards 
and  forwards,  and  supported  by  pulleys  or  oscillating  upright  beams. 

\A  ater-pressure  engines  have  the  advantage  of  beii^  able  at  once 
to  utilize  any  amount  of  fall,  and  those  which  are  direct-actin"  can 
be  applied  immediately  to  the  main  rod  of  the  pumps.  ° 

Steam,  however,  is  the  power  used  j>ar  excellence  in  draining 
mines ;  indeed  the  first  applications  of  steam-power  were  made  for 
this  purpose,  and  Watt's  great  inventions  owed  their  birth  to  the 
necessities  of  mines  which  could  no  longer  be  drained  by  the  water- 
power  at  their  command. 

■The  principal  iypo  of  engine  is  that  known  as  the  Cornish  engine,  ComisH 
which   is  a  single-acting  condensing  beam  engine  working  ex-  ennna 
pansively.  ^  Its  mode  of  action  may  be  briefly  described  as  foBows.    ' 
The  steam  is  let  in  at  the  top  of  the  cylinder  and  presses  doi-n  the 
piston,  which  is  connected  with  one  end  of  a  large  beam,  whilst 
the  main  rod  of  the  pumps  is  attached  to  the  other.     When  the 
piston  has  completed^  its  course  the  equilibrium  valve  is  opened 
by  a  cataract,  and,  the  pressure  on  both  sides  of  the  piston  being 
now  equal,  the  weight  of  the  pump  rods,  or  rather  the  excess  of 
their  weight  over  that  of  the  counterbalances,  causes  them  to  drop 
and  force  up  the  water  fiom  the  mine  by  means  of  the  plungers, 
which   will    be    described    immediately.      Double-acting    rotary- 
engines  working  the  pumps  by  cranks  may  also  be  met  witli. 

The  rod  in  the  shaft,  known  as  the  main  rod  or  spear  rod,  is 
usually  made  of  strong  balks  of  timber  butted  together  and  con- 
nected by  strapping  plates  fastened  by  bolts.  It  serves  to  work 
either  lifting-pumps  or  force-pumps,  or  both. 


1  ig  bi  Fig.  SS. 

The  lifting  pump,  or  iJramng  lift  (fig.  87),'  consists  of  the  w 
bore,  the  clack-piece,  the  clack-seat   piece,   the  working  bi 


ind- 
barrel 


'  Wicheli  and  Letcher  on  "Cornish  Mine  Drainage," /'OT'/y-rAircf 
Anxuttl  JReport  of  the  Roijal  Cornicall  Polytechnic  Socielj/,  p.  311, 


TENTItATIOS.] 


MINING 


46» 


Above  tho  H-p.eco  ">"«  t„^^^,,f  y'^^'  Zol  but  occasionally  of 

a  S'th?S  arc';t I'-t  Uh  of  more  tban  .ere 
box  can  oe  euoi.v      r  Tiluneer  compared  with  a 


expansion  and  condensation.  The  plunger  or  ram  iB  eeneiaUy 
fixed  directly  on  to  the  piston,  and  works  in  the  same  line,  con- 
seauenflT  the  power  is  transmitted  to  the  plunger  with  the  least 
possible  loss.  The  water  is  fbrced  up  the  shaft  in  one  long  column. 
L<Tnes  and  pumps  of  this  kind  are  easily  kept  in  order;  all  thff 
parts  are  readfiy  accessible.  The  miner  is  able  to  dispense  wiA  the 
LavT  beam,  the  massive  engine-house,  the  long  main  rod  and  its 
connexions  and  bobs,  the  various  cisterns  and  plungers,  and  instead 
he  has  a  compact  and  easUy  supervised  machine  and  a  simple  Ime 
of-  pipes  taking  up  but  little  space  in  the  shaft;  the  p^p  can 
therefore  be  erected  and  set  to  work  very  quickly,  and  this  is  a 
matter  of  the  utmost  importance  in  emergencies.  It  is  true  that 
these  direct-acting  steam-pumps,  ^en  when  worked  by  a  compound 
encdne  cause  a  greater  consumption  of  coal  than  the  Cornish  engme; 
but  ai  a  set  off,  there  is  the  economy  m  first  cost,  erection,  and 
repairs  which  has  led  to  their  adopHon  more  especially  m  colhenea. 
The  steam  is  generated  by  boilers  underground,  or  is  conveyed  from 
the  surface  in  well-jacketed  pipes.  .  i  •  _ 

If  natural  water-power  is  available  water-pressure  enrines  working 
the  plunger  directly  are  often  employed,  anf  indeed  such  water-power 
may  be  Seated  artificiaUy  for  use  in  workings  where  steam-power  .3 
lectionable  on  account  of  the  heat.  There  «>-?_°*f^f  f^^™»  ♦"? 
for  employing  water  for  transmitting  power  ;  where  the  length  o. 
the  rols  iTvfry  great,  and  they  have  to  be  worked  quickly,  there  is 
aVreatiabili^  to  breakages;  in  order  to  overcome  these  difficulties 
at^he  mines  on  the  Comstock  lode  Mr  Joseph  Moore'uscs  a  steam- 
en<nne  at  the  surface  to  work  an  hydraulic  accumulator  and  then 
bv  pipes  conveys  the  water  under  pressure  to  hydrau  ic  engines 
wording  plungers.     These  are  fixed  at  2400  feet  from  the  surface 


box  can  be  eS^'sc^Twel  up  VT *;  packing  wears;   this  is  one     -^^fj'^^^^,,  t^trco^^^mSelt  high,  to  the  level  of 
^-reat 'eaaon  of  L  superiority  of  the  plunger  compared  with  a     and  for^^  JJ^^Jr^Tte  exhaust  water  is  returned  to  the  surface  m 


K!cy*s 
engine* 


»'"^^:  rSSns  orthi.  system-relate  more  to  the  engines  em 

•X  ?y?rndrortr^o?i;xe?rL'^:;meti^^^^^ 

£rk^?.^^K^^r^£"asXern"en^pfL*Co^^^ 
l^^n  disne^es  Wh  thf  ponderous  beam,  but  it  has  the  great 
dUadvantegTof  orstructing^he  mouth  of  the  shaft.  The  use  oF  t>vo 
cvlindeS  combined,  as  invented  by  Woolf.  causes  less  strain  upon 
the  maS  rod  and  pimps  (pit-work)  and  machinery  generally,  as  the 
initial  velocitv  of  the  piston  is  smaller  and  the  engine  starts  with 
less'erk      The  cylinders  are  placed  side  by  side  or  one  above  the 

"' KUv  of  Bonn,  has  constructed  engines  on  the  Woolf  system  with 
Steai  acHng  on  both  sides  of  the  pistons.     He  makes  the  excess  of 
the  weSt  of  the  rod  over  that  of  the  counterbalances  sufficient  to 
Vaise  only  half  the  weight  of  the  water  and  to  overcome  the  fnction ; 
and  then  ill  the  descending  stroke  the  steam  acts  on  the  top  of  the 
pKton  and  so  makes  up  for^the  insufficiency  in  force  of  the  rods     As 
the  steam  acts  on  both  sides  of  the  piston  the  same  amount  is  con- 
sumed it  is  true,  but  a  smaller  cylinder  will  do  the  work,  and  tho 
or^nal    it  of  the  engine  is  lessened.     The  same  engineer  of  late 
vears  has  put  up  several  pumping  engines  in  Belpum,  Germany,  and 
fiance  of  30  to  560  horse'-power,  with  a  fly-wheel  which  serves  su.nply 
to  reflate  the  stroke  of  the  piston,  so  that  the  crank  a  ways  stops 
beforfor  after  the  dead  point  tiU  the  cataract  starts  another  stroke^ 
The  engines  are  double-acting,  ^vith  two  cylinders  and  beam     The 
advantlge  of  working  with  the  fly-wheel  is  that  the  mam  rod  and 
pumps  are  set  in  motion  without  the  injunous  jerk  unavoidable 
with  a  Cornish  engine  worked  at  a  high  rate  of  expansion. 
.»-•    ..  ■       M    Guinotte    the  well-known   Belgian  engineer,  also  adopts  a 
*"?"'"'  '  flv  whee"  and  the  engines  he  has  erected  at  Mariemont  and  else- 
"«'"'        where  are  single-acting  rotary  engines  with   one  cyUnder.     The 
pecXrity  of  tie  fly-wheel  is  that  he  can  weight  it  in  any  way  he 
?S"?nd  he  so  overcomes  the  difficulty,  which  occurs  in  other 
FotTry  machines,  of  its  being  impossible  to  work  them  below  a  certam 
speed.    His  object  has  been  to  make  the  speed  slow  at  the  heginnuig 
and  end  of  a  stroke,  so  as  to  avoid  the  injunous  shocks  to  the  valves 
and  machinery  generally  from  sudden  starts  and  stoppages.     In 
order  to  make  the  main  rod  act  by  traction  only  and  not  compression, 
which  may  be  advisable  mth  iron  rods,  the  plungers  are  sometunea 
reversed  ;  whilst  Kraft  of  Seraing  has  introduced   the   Rittingcr 
pump,  which  consists  of  a  hollow  moving  plunger  yth  a  valve  mside, 
and  a  plunger  case  above  it  working  over  a  hollow  fixed  plunger. 
Bv  this  arrangement  both  the  up  and   the  down  stroke  of  the 
engine  cause  water  to  be  forced  up;  and  this  pump  is  used  with 
a  double-acting  rotary  engine.  ,   ,        ,  •.    <■„„„ 

B  We  must  now  speak  of  the  second  class  of  pumps,  viz.,  lorce- 
pumps  worked  by  steam,  water-power,  or  compressed  air  at  the 
bottom  of  the  shaft.  «  u  ^  *i,«« 

The  steam  pumps  are  of  very  various  descriptions,'  but  they 
mostly  consist  of  one  or  two  plungers,  or  rams,  set  m  motion  by  a 
■     rotary  or  a  non-rotary  engine,  which  may  or  may  not  work  with 

~  1  Michel!  and  Letcher  on  "  Cornish  Mine  Drainage,"  Forty-Third 
nrnuil  Report  of  the  Royal  Cornwall  Polytechnic  Socxety,  p.  211. 
»  Stephen  Michell,  Mine  DTainaye,  London,  1881. 


the  Sutoo  tunneh"  The  exhaust  water  is  returned  to  the  surface  ia 
pipesand  used  over  again.     The  pumps  are  now  raismg  1600  to 

^Th?r^™L7re-d':ii-  is  being  -PpHed  to  a  min^for  drUUng 

-tr^f  KS  ^U'p^^iucrr^^^^^^^ 

Seam  for  the  drainagf  oLm^U  temporary  sinkings  ;  and  occas.on- 
ally Targe  pumps  raising  considerable  quantities  of  water  are  worked 
"    this  way 


11  rendlation  and  Lighting.— The  composition  of  the 
air  of  the  atmosphere  is  about  one-fifth  by  volume  of 
oxygen  and  four-fifths  of  nitrogen,  with  a  httle  carbonic 
acid  gas ;  more  exactly,  the  standard  amount  of  oxygen 
may  be  taken  at  20-9  per  cent.,  and  that  of  the  carbonic 
acid  gas  at  003  per  cent.  The  atmosphere  of  mines  is 
subject  to  various  deteriorating  influences :  not  only  do 
nonous  gases  escape  from  the  rocks  into  the  underground 
excavations,  but  also  the  very  agents  employed  in  the 
execution  of  the  work  itself  pollute  the  air  considerably. 

The  dangerous  emanations  of  fire-damirtn  collieries  have  l'elet«.. 
been  already  described  (Coal,  vol.  vi.  p.  72) ;  and  ^ith  <»  ■  >-  • 
reference  to  this  gas  it  is  simply  necessary  to  say  that  its 
presence  is  not  entirely  confined  to  coal  mines.  Large 
quantities  have  been  observed  in  Silver  Islet  mine,«  Lake 
Superior,  where  several  explosions  have  occurred,  whilst 
smaU  quantities  are  met  with  in  the  stratified  ironstone  of 
Cleveland,  and  also  in  the  Cheshire  salt  mmes ;  jets  of  the 
eas  may  be  seen  constantly  burning  in  the  salt  mine  at 
Bex  in  Switzerland;  a  Httle  has  been  noticed  also  m  lead 
mines  in  Wales  and  Derbyshire.  In  the  Sicilian  mines  the 
amount  given  ofi  by  the  black  carbonaceous  shales  mter- 
stratified  with  the  sulphur  beds  is  sufficient  to  cause 
dangerous  explosions.  It  has  been  pointed  out  (vol.  vi.  p. 
72)  that  carbonic  acid  gas  exudes  from  coalj^  it  escapes 
also  from  some  mineral  veins.  At  the  lead  mines  of 
Pontgibaud  in  central  France  it  is  so  abundant  that  special 
fans  have  to  be  provided  for  getting  rid  of  it ;  very  distinct 
issues  of  this  gas  may  be  observed  at  the  Foxdale  mines  m 
the  Isle  of  Man,  and  in  the  Alston  Moor  district  it  is  not 

»  Trans.  Inst.  Engineers  and  Shipbuilders  in  Scotland,  188? 
•  Engineering  and  Mining  Journal,  voh  xmv.  p.  "?f 
»  A.Schondorff,  "  Untersuchung  der  ausz.ehenden  Wetterstrome  in 
den  Steinkohlenbergwerken  des  Saarbeckens,"  if'f'f/XxWvli'- 
Millie.  unnSalinen-Wesenim  Pmissischm  Staate,  vol.  XJtii.  p.  '»► 
Sid  a  WtoklTr  ''Die  chemische  Untersuchung  derbei  verscbiedenea 
SeiSiUe^gnib  n  Sachsens  ausziehendeu  Wettersticme  und  ^ 
Erg^aisse,"  Jahrbuch  fur  das  Berg-  und  mttqixoescn  m  KmgTa^ 
Sacluen  au/das  Jahr  1882,  p.  65. 


460 


M  i  ^  i  ^  G 


uncommon.     This  gas  is  likewise  given  off  in  the  Sicilian  I 
sulphm-  mines,  where  also  the  highly  poisonous  sulphuretted 
hydrogen  is  of  frequent  occurrence,  the  water  in  the  work- 
ings being  often  saturated  with  it.     )SmaU  quantities  of  | 
mercurial  vapour  occur  iu  quicksilver  mines. 
;^tw!ni,ts      Such  then  are  the  principal  gases  which  naturally  pollute  I 
ofrespi-  {.jie  atmosphere  of  mines,   and  have  to  be  swept  out  by  j 
'f'''^'     ventilation.     In  addition  to  these  we  have  the  products 
^    ^'  of  the  respiration  of  the  men  and  animals  in  the  pit,  and 
those  due  to  the  combustion  of  candles  or  lamps,  and  the 
explosion  of  gunpowder,  dynamite,  (to. 

Dr  Angus  Smith'  reckous  that  two  men  wonting  eight  hoars, 
and  using  4  tb  of  candles  and  1  i  oz.  of  gunpowder,  produce  25-392 
cubic  feet  of  carbonic  acid  (anhydride)  at  70"  F.,  —  viz.,  10'32  by 
breathing,  12-276  by  candles,  and  a-796  by  gunpowder. 

The  products  of  the  o.^plosion  of  gunpowder  have  been  carefully 
fitudied  by  Captain  Noble  and  Sir  Frederick  Abel,  and  the  follow- 
ing figures,  snowing  proportions  by  weight,  are  copied  from  the 
-raluable  paper'  containing  the  results  of  some  of  their  researches: — 


Total  solid  products 

Total  gaseous  products.. 
Water 


The  solid  residue  of  the  mining  powder  consisted  mainly  of 
potassium  carbonate,  potassium  monosulphido,  and  sulphur.  The 
percentage -composition  by  volume  of  the  gas  produced  was  : — 


Cai-bonlc  anhydride 

Cart)ODlc  oxide. 

Nitrogen 

Sulphuretted  hydrogen.. 

Harsh  gas 

Hydrogen 


7  a 
at -46 

2-03 


The  volume  (calculated  for  a  temperatm-c  of  0°  C.  and  barometer 
560  mm.  of  mercury)  of  permanent  gases  generated  by  the  explosion 
of  1  gramme  of  dry  pow-der  is — 

Ciiitls  Jb  Harvey,  No.  6 241-0  cutic  centimetres. 

Mining 300-3      „ 

ilM.  Sarrau  and  Vieille  have  communicated  to  the  Academy  of 
Sciences'  the  results  of  their  researches  concerning  the  decomposi- 
tion of  certain  explosives,  and  more  particularly  gun-cotton  and 
nitrated  gun-cotton.  The  follon-ing  table  shows,  in  litres,  the 
volume  (at  0°  C.  and  760  mm.  of  mercury)  of  each  of  the  gases  per 
liilogramme  of  the  substance  exploded  in  a  closed  vessel: — 


Kind  of  Explosive 

co.|co,.|  n. 

N.    0. 

C.H,. 

HS.|       Total.      1 

Pnve  gun-cotton 

Gun-cotton  and  nlu-ate  of) 
potash  (50  per  cent,  of  |- 

Gun-cotton   (40  per  ccnt.U 

234 

... 

"c'i 

234 
171 

181 

295 
150 

lC(i 
"4 

107 
109 

2U 

147 

65 

45 

6 
25 

4 

17 

T41 
325 

401 

467 
304 

Nitroglycerin 

Ordinary  tjlasting  powder 

If,  however,  the  explosive  is  decomposed  ^t  a  pressure  approach- 
ing that  of  the  atinospliei-e,  the  volumes  (again  at  0°  C.  and  760  mm. 
of  mercury)  are  very  different,  as  sliown  below: — 


Kind  o(  Enplosivc. 


Pure  gun-cotton 

Gun-cotton  and  nitrate  of  > 
potaati  (50  per  cent,  of  each)  ( 

Oun-coiton  (40  per  cent. land) 
nitrate  of  ammonia  (CO  per  V 
ccnt.) j 

Nltro-giyccrin 


[VE-NTILATIOM. 

oxide  and  carbonic  oxide,  and  the  analyses  of  MM.  Sarrau  and 
Vieille  confirm  the  practical  experience  of  miners,  who  complain 
gi-eatlyof  noxious  fumes  when,  owing  perhaps  to  a  bad  detonator,  a 
charge  of  dynamite  or  tonite  fails  to  explode  properly. 

The  air  of  mines  is  finally  deteriorated  by  organic  matter  con- 
tained in  the  exhalations  of  the  men  and  animals  employed  and 
in  the  products  of  decaying  timber,  by  dust,  and  by  the  solid  par- 
ticles constituting  the  smnke  of  explosives.  It  must  be  recollected 
also  that  the  injury  to  the  air  is  not  confined  to  the  addition  of  the 
gases  and  substances  just  mentioned  ;  but  the  proportion  of  oxygen 
is  diminished  by  the  combustion  of  candles,  by  respiration,  tha 
decay  of  timber,  and  decomposition  of  some  minerals  such  as  iron 
pyrites.  Dr  Angus  Smith*  sums  up  the  rasults  of  his  analyses  of 
the  air  of  British  metal-mines  as  follows  : — 

Percentage  hy  TOltim?. 

Oxygen,  average  of  339  specimens 20-20 

„        of  ends 20-18 

,,        other  parts 20-33 


VVTien  explosives  are  decomposed  in  this  way  they  liberate  nitric 


'  Report  of  the  Commissimiers  Appointed  to  Inquire  into  tfie  Condi- 
lion  of  all  Mines  in  Grtai  Britain  to  u-hich  the  Provisions  of  the  Act 
23  <fc  24  Vict.  c.  151  do  not  apply.  Appendix  B.,  p.  221. 

-  "On  Fired  Gunpotvder,"  Captain  Noble  aud  Mr  F.  A.  Abel, 
Phil.  Trans.,  1880,  p.  278. 

3  "  Rechcrchcs  cxpinmentales  fiur  la  di^coniposition  do  quelques 
cxplosifs  en  vase  clos  ;  composition  dea  gaz  formes,"  Comptcs  JieJittus, 
1880,  pp.lOES  and  1112. 


Carbonic  acid _ 0-785 

Ho  considers  airwith  20 '9  per  cent,  oxygen  as  normal,  and  air  with 
proportions  between  that  and  20-6  as  impure,  and  where  the  per- 
centage of  oxygen  descends  below  20-6  he  calls  the  air  exceedingly 
bad.  According  to  these  standards,  only  10-67  per  cent,  of  tb« 
samples  showed  the  air  to  be  normal  or  nearly  so  ;  24  69  per  cent, 
were  decidedly  impure;  whilst  64-63  per  cent,  or  nearly  two-thirds 
of  the  samples  were  exceedingly  bad.  The  amount  of  oxygen  in 
one  specimen  was  as  low  as  18-52  per  cent  ,  whilst  the  carbonic 
acid  often  exceeded  1  per  cent,  aiid.iu  several  instances  2  per  cent. 
It  is  evident  that  tneuty  years  ago  the  vci^tilaticn  of  British 
metal  mines  wa.s  anything  but  satisfactory,  aud  even  now  there  is 
room  for  improvement. 

Having  explained  the  reasons  why  the  air  of  mines  must 
be  constantly  renewed,  wi  must  now  point  out  how  this 
desirable  end  is  effected. 

Two  systems   are  employed, — natural  ventilation  and  Systemi 
artificial    ventilation ;  but,   as   both   systems    have   been "'  veiiti- 
described  (Coal,  vol.  vi.  p.  70),  little  remains  to  be  said  '*'"'°- 
here,  especially  as  the  ventilating  machines  in  metalliferous 
mines  generally  cannot  for  one  moment  be  compared  with 
the  powerful  appliances  employed  in  collieries.     In  vein- 
mining   there   are   generally  many  more  shafts   than  in 
collieries,  and  natural  currents  are  set  up  which  are  often 
considered  sufficient   for  ventilating  the   mines ;    never- 
theless, the  advanced  workings,  .such  as  the  eniJs,  rises, 
and  winzes, — in  fact  all  workings  in  the  form  of  a  cul-de- 
sac, — are  likely  to  require  special  means  ot    ventilation 
as  soon  as  they  proceed  a  little  distance  from  the  main 
air-current. 

The  means  of  ventilating  a  drift  or  heading  are  various. 
If  a  natural  or  artificial  draught 
exists  at  the  mouth  of  the  drift, 
it  may  be  diverted  by  an  up-     , 
right  partition  {brattice),  or  an  .  i 
air-way    may    be    constructed  |.^ 
along  the  roof  or  floor   by  a 
horizontal  partition  of  planks 

(air-sollar)  (fig.  89).     In   this  way  a  suflicient  supply  ia 
secured  at  the  end  or  fore-breast. 

The  water -blast  is  another  simple  appliance  ;  it  is  pre- 
cisely the  same  as  the 

well-known  tromiJ,  and        i      .  -« 

it  blows  a  current  of  air 
through   square    pipes 

made    of     boards,    or 

better  through  cylindri-  1. 

cal  pipes  of  sheet  zinc. 

The  fall  of  water  may  bo  apiji%a  ly  \\  .;;„„d„o  ....Lti-j^t, 

shown  in  fig.  90.     The  jet  of  water  acts  like  an  injector, 

and  creates  a  powerful  current. 

Small  fans  driven  by  boy.s,  or  better  by  small  -water- 
wheels  or  other  machinery,  arc  frequently  applied,  and  the 


Fig.  89. 


k 


Op.  cit.,  p.  222. 


UGHTINO.] 


MINING 


161 


Fig.  91. 


LightiBg. 


Harz  blower  (dvxk  machine,  Cornwall)  (fig.  01)  is  not 
uncommoo.  This  is  merely  an  air-pump  of  very  simple 
construction  -which  is  worked  by  the 
main  rod  of  the  pumps,  and  can  be 
arranged  so  as  to  exhaiist  the  foul 
air  or  force  in  fresh  air 

In  working  in  blasting  ground, 
boring-machines  driven  by  com- 
pressed air  are  becoming  more  and 
more  largely  used  every  day,  and 
the  exhaust  air  escaping  from  the 
machines  is  invaluable  for  ventilation. 
At  the  same  time,  on  account  of 
volley  firing,  the  quantities  of  dele- 
terious gases  generated  in  a  short 
space  of  time  are  very  considerable ; 
and,  in  order  to  get  rid  of  them 
speedily,  the  compressed  air  may  be 
ipirators/  utilized  for  working  a  Korting  aspirator  or  the  somewhat 
similar  ventilator  of  Mr  Teague,  a  jet  of  compressed  air 
turned  into  a  ventilating  pipe,  which  creates  an  exhaust 
(tig.  92').  Naturally  this    . 

ventilator      is      merely    i 

brought  into  play  at  the 
time   of    blasting,    and 
while    the    boring    ma-  =^^=^ 
chinery   is   out  of  use.   t 
When  compressed  air  is  F-i 

being  supplied  on  a  large  scale  to  a  mine  for  boiing  and 
winding  machinery,  it  is  often  convenient  to  convey  it  by 
a  small  gas-pipe  to  working  places  in  which  the  ventilation 
is  inadequate.  Of  course,  in  one  sense,  it  is  very  unecono- 
mical to  compress  air  to  a  pressure  of  60  or  70  tt)  to  the 
square  inch  for  ventilating  purposes  only ;  but,  where  com- 
pressing machinery  is  always  at  work  on  the  mine,  it  may 
be  better  to  be  a  little  wasteful  of  cheap  power  at  the  sur- 
face than  to  go  to  the  greater  expense  of  having  a  man  or 
boy  to  work  a  fan  underground. 

Mines  are  lighted  by  lamps,  torctes,  candles,  and 
electricity.  The  subject  of  safety  lamps  for  fiery  mines 
has  already  been  discussed  (see  Coal,  vol.  vi.  p.  72),  and 
consequently  the  question  of  illuminating  mines  may  be 
treated  in  a  very  summary  manner. 

Lamps  vary  very  much  in  shape  and  si^e.  Tlie  Sicilian  miner  has 
B  mere  sL  allow  cup  of  unglazed  pottery  ;  the  Saxon  a  small  tin  or 
brass  lamp  in  a  wooden  box  lined  v.'ith  tinplate 
and  open  in  front.  In  the  Harz  the  miner  prefers 
a  heavy  flat  iron  lamp  with  a  hook  by  which  it  is 
stuck  into  the  timber  or  any  crack  in  the  rocks  ; 
in  France,  northern  Italy,  and  parts  of  Spain,  the 
iron  lamp  is  lenticular  in  shape  and  also  suspended 
by  a  hook.  In  Scotland,  and  parts  of  Germany 
and  the  United  States,  a  small  tin  lamp  of  the 
Shape  shown  in  fig.  93  is  very  common  ;  tlie  hook 
enables  it  to  be  carried  on  the  hat  while  climbing  *^'S-  *■'• 

ladders,  and  to  be  fixed  up  underground.  Olive  oil  and  rape  oil  are 
burnt  in  these  lamps  ;  petroleum  lamps  are  employed  occasionally. 

The  miners  of  England  and  Wales  still  cling  to  the  tallow  candle; 
and  when  surrounded  by  a  lump  of  clay  it  can  easily  and  quickly  be 
fixed  in  the  working  place  or  carried  upon  the  hat  when  climbing. 
Gas  brought  down  from  the  surface  answers  for  illuminating  large 
excavations,  such  as  on-setting  places  and  engine-rooms. 

Up  to  the  present  time  the  electric  light  has  been  but  little  used 
■underground  on  account  of  its  want  of  portability,  and  the  small- 
ijcss  of  the  spaces  requiring  illumination.  Very  often  a  few  men 
only  are  employed  in  each  working  place,  and  consequently  the 
expense  incurred  in  fixing  and  shifting  the  lamps  and  maintaining 
them  aUght  would  be  out  of  proportion  to  the  value  of  the  work 
executed.  However,  an  incandescent  electric  lamp  has  been  invented 
weighing  only  10  lb,  which  gives  the  light  of  three  candles  for  six 
hours,  and  it  may  be  reasonably  expected  that  improvements  will 
be  made  which  will  render  ^he  electric  light  more  available  for 
underground  purposes  than  it  is  at  present.  When  the  area  reqmr- 
ing  illumination  is  large,  an  arc-lamp  may  be  used  with  advantage. 


'  Tram.  Roy.  Oeol.  Soe.  Cornwall,  vol.  x.  n.  142. 


.among  the  first  successful  applications  of  electric  lighting  to 
underground  excavations  may  be  mentioned  that  of  II.  Blavier  at 
the  Angers  slate  quarries.^  In  the  year  1879  he  fixed  two  Serrin 
lamps  in  one  of  the  large  underground  chambers  with  an  area  or 
2400  square  yards,  and  he  found  that  they  gave  light  enough  for  aU 
the  men  at  work.  The  total  cost,  reckoning  everything,  viz.,  coal, 
carbons,  repairs,  labour,  depreciation  of  plant,  and  interest  on  capital^ 
is  50  francs  per  day  ;  the  gas  formerly  in  use  cost  54  francs  a  day 
and  gave  much  less  light.  It  is  evident,  however,  that  the  arc  lights 
can  only  be  applied  with  advantage  in  special  cases  where  a  large 
number  of  men  are  concentrated  in  one  working  area  which  can  Be 
illuminated  from  one  or  two  points. 

The  large  chambers  in  the  salt  mine  of  Maros-Ujvar  in  Hungary 
have  been  regularly  Ughted  up  by  electricity  since  1880.  The  cost 
is  somewhat  greater  than  that  of  the  tallow,  oil,  or  petroleum 
formerly  in  use  ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  the  illumination  is  better, 
the  men  can  do  more  work  and  are  more  easily  superviseJ,  whilst 
the  air  of  the  mine  is  not  deteriorated  by  the  products  of  combustioD 
of  the  lamps.^ 

12.  Means  of  Descending  inio  and  Ascending  /rojn  Hbib»  ur 
Mines. — Where  mines  are  worked  by  adit-lewLs  the  men  ac««- 
naturaUy  walk  in  along  the  ordinary  roadjvays;  such 
miues,  however,  are  exceptional,  and  the  men  generally 
have  to  climb  down  and  up  by  ladders,  or  are  raised  and 
lowered  by  machinery.  The  means  of  access  to  and  from 
workings  may  be  clas.sified  as  follows: — (1)  steps  and 
slides ;  (2)  ladders ;  (3)  cages ;  (4)  man-engines. 

If  a  lode  or  seam  is  iucUned  at  an  angle  or  40°  or  50°  from  the  Stepe^ 
horizon,  steps  may  be  cut  in  the  floors  of  the  deposit  if  it  is  firm 
enough,  or  wooden  stairs  may  be  put  in  with  a  hand-rail.     Even 
vdth  higher  dips  steps  may  be  arranged  by  directing  them  in  a  Una 
intermediate  between  the  dip  and  the  strike.     In  speaking  of  con- 
veyance underground,  reference  has  already  been  made  to  the  practice 
of  carrying  sulphur  ore  in  Sicily  and  slate  in  Germany  up  to  the   ■ 
surface  by  steps  ;  and  steps  may  be  found  in  other  foreign  mines 
and  occasionally  in  Great  Britain.     They  are  much  less  fatiguing 
than  ladders  placed  so  flat  that  part  of  the  weight  of  the  body  rests 
upon  the  arms.      In  some  of  the  Austrian  salt  mines   the  men  SU<5e»t 
descend  by  wooden  slides  inchned  at  angles  vaiying  from  30°  to  50°, 
flattening  at  the  bottom  to  destroy  the  velocity  gradually ;   the 
ascent  is  elTected  by  steps. 

Ladders  are  -eery  largeiy  usea  in  metal  mines  all  over  Ladders-. 
the  world,  but  they  vary  a  good  deal  in  different  countries. 
The  ladder  con.'iists  of  two  sides  and  a  series  of  rungs 
{staves,  Cornwall).  The  sides  are  usually  made  of  wood, 
and  the  rungs  of  wood  or  iron.  The  distance  between  the 
rungs  is  important ;  10  inches  from  centre  to  centre  is 
sufficient,  for  climbing  upon  ladders  with  the  rungs  12 
inches  apart  is  decidedly  more  fatiguing.  On  the  Continent 
wooden  rungs  are  commoner  than  iron  ones,  and  oak  is 
preferred.  Sometimes  the  wooden  staves,  instead  of  being 
round,  are  flat,  so  as  to  stand  more  wear,  and  iron  sides 
may  be  seen  in  places  where  dry  rot  is  very  bad.  Platforms 
should  be  fixed  at  short  intervals,  not  exceeding  3  or  4 
fathoms  in  perpendicular  shafts,  so 
as  to  prevent  falls  from  having  fatal 
consequences. 

In  many  cases  sufficient  attention 
is  not  paid  to  the  angle  of  inclination 
of  the  ladders.  A  ladder  is  climbed 
with  the  least  fatigue  when  the  person 
uses  his  arms  simply  to  steady  him- 
self, and  is  not  compelled  to  pull 
himself  up  by  them,  as  on  a  vertical 
ladder,  or  to  support  much  of  the 
weight  of  his  body  by  them,  as 
happens  with  a  very  flat  one.  The 
best  angle  is  about  20°  from  the  ' 
vertical,  and  in  Belgium  the  autho-  ^'S-  ^*- 

ritiea  have  very  wisely  decreed  that  no  ladder  shall  be 
inclined  at  an  angle  of  less  that  10°  from  the  verticaL 
Furthermore,  of  the  two  arrangements  shown  in  fig.  94 


T  '  M.  Blavier,   "L'Eclairage  ilectrique  aux  Ardois'e'^'s  d' Angers," 
Annales  des  Mines,  ser.  7,  vol.  ivii.,  1880,  p.  5. 

'  OaUmichischt  Zdlschrifl  fur  Berg-  und  FiMeivjxst^,  1882,  No. 
25,  p.  296. 


462 


M  I  IS  I  K  a 


[mkans  op  access. 


A  is  better  than  B,  because  it  not  only  affords  a  greater 
inclination  for  the  ladders,  but  also  renders  it  less  likely 
that  a  man  will  drop  through  the  opening  (manhole)  in 
the  platform  (soUar)  li  he  loses  his  hold  and  falls.  These 
may  seem  trifling  matters ;  but,  leaving  aside  the  question 
of  safety,  the  economy  derived  from  fixing  the  ladders 
at  the  best  inclination  Is  by  no  means  small.  To  make 
this  apparent  we  must  recollect  the  depths  to  and  from 
which  men  have  to  climb,  viz.,  300,  400,  and  even  500 
yards.  It  is  important,  therefore,  to  save  every  unnecessary 
expenditure  of  energy,  which,  though  trifling  for  one  ladder, 
becomes  considerable  when  repeated  a  great  number  of 
times.  'When  a  mine  has  reached  a  depth  of  200  yards, 
and  a  fortiori  when  it  exceeds  it,  mechanical  appliances 
should  be  introduced  for  raising  and  lowering  the  men, 
because  time  and  strength  are  wasted  by  climbing. 
Medical  men  also  are  agreed  that  excessive  ladder-climbing 
is  injurious  to  the  health  of  the  miner.  Therefore,  both 
upon  hygienic  and  financial  grounds,  one  of  the  first 
thoughts  in  working  a  mine  should  be  the  conveyance  of 
the  men  up  and  down  the  shafts  by  machinery  with  the 
'east  possible  fatigue. 
tSiEes.  In  collieries  and  other  mines  worked  by  perpendicular 

shafts,  it  has  long  been  customary  to  raise  and  lower  the 
men  by  the  ordinary  winding  machinery  already  described. 
In  the  United  Kingdom  it  is  necessary  that  guides  should 
be  used  if  the  shaft  exceeds  50  yards  in  depth ;  safety- 
catches  and  disengaging  hooks  (Coal,  vol.  vi.  p.  75)  are 
.frequently  applied  for  the  purpose  of  preventing  accidents. 
The  simplicity  of  this  method  of  ingress  and  egress 
uaturally  renders  it  popular,  and  statistics  prove  that, 
where  proper  precautions  are  used,  it  is  exceedingly  safe. 
Mar-  The  first  man-engine  was  put  up  in  the  Harz  in  1833,  and 

Tfng'.w-.  nine  years  later  a  similar  machine  was  fixed  in  Tresaveau 
mine  in  Cornwall.  Since  that  time  this  very  useful  means 
of  conveying  workmen  up  and  down  shafts  has  been  resorted 
to  in  other  mining  districts,  and  especially  in  Belgium  and 
Westphalia. 

Two  kinds  of  man-engine  are  in  use,  the  double-rod  machine  and 
the  single-rod  machine.  The  double-rod  or  original  man-engine 
•consists  of  two  reciprocating  rods  like  the  main  rods  of  pumps,  carry- 
ing small  platforms  upon  which  the  men  stand.  The  stroke  is  from 
4  to  16  feet,  and  the  little  platforms  are  so  arranged  that  the}'  are 
always  opposite  each  otlier  at  the  beginning  and  end'of  each  stroke. 

Figs.  95  and  96  represent  the  rods  in  the  two  final  positions.  A 
man  who  wishes  to  descend  steps  upon  platform  b  (fig.  95) ;  the  rod 
B  goes  down,  and  A  goes  up,  so  that  b  (fig.  96)  is  brought  opposite 
c.  The  man  steps  across  from  b  to  c,  and  then  the  rod  A  makes  a 
down-stroke,  B  an  up-stroke.  Platform  c  is  now  oppo- 
site d  (fig.  S5),  and  the  man  again  steps  across  ;  and 
thus,  by  constantly  stepping  from  the  rod  as  it  com- 
pletes its  do\\'n-stroke,  the  man  is  A 
gi-adually  convoyed  to  the  bottom  of  H 
the  shaft.  By  reversing  the  process,  *  b 
■or,  in  other  words,  by  stepping  olf  ^^l^Jl^j 
on  to  the  opposite  platform  as  soon 
as  the  rod  has  completed  its  up- 
stroke, the  man  is  raised  to  the  sur- 
face, without  any  fatigue  beyond  that 
■of  the  very  slight  ellbrt  of  stepping 
.sideways.  If  each  rod  makes  four 
up  and  down  strokes  of  10  feet  each 
per  minute,  the  rate  of  ascent  or 
■descent  will  be  80  feet  per  minute. 

Tiie  single-rod  man-engine  has  one 
rod  carrying  steps,  whilst  fixed  plat- 
forms are  arranged  in  the  shaft  so  as     «.-.. :, 
to    correspond    exactly   with   them      0  L 
<lig.   97).      If  a  man  wants  to   go 
down,  he  steps  on  to  A  when  the 
np  stroke  is  completed;  the  rod  goes  pj_  jg 
down  and  A  is  brought  down  oppo- 


/I 


if^)"- 


iito  to  the  fixed  platform  6,  on  to  which  he  stem  ofT. 
1  h  until  the  rod  has  finished  its  up-stioke.     B 


fig.  97. 

He  then 
vaits  on  h  until  the  rod  has  finished  its  up-stioke.  U  is  hroaght 
opposite  h  ;  ho  step3  on  to  B,  the  rod  goes  down  and  lie  is  brought 
opposite  c,  wlierc  ne  steps  off  again  and  waits.  By  reversing  the 
oj)eration  bo  is  gradually  lifted  to  tho  top  of  the  shaft.  Tliesini^le- 
rod  engine  may  be  used  by  men  f;oing  ud  whilo  others  are  going 


down,  provided  that  there  is  sufficient  room  upon  the  fixed  plat- 
forms {soUars).  The  best  plan  is  to  have  sollars  right  and  left,  as 
shown  in  the  figure,  and  then  the  ascending  men  step  off  to  the  left, 
for  instance,  while  tlic  descending  men  take  the  right-hand  eollars. 
The  ascending  man  steps  on  to  the  man-engine  as  soon  as  the 
descending  man  steps  off,  and  so  the  rod  may  be  always  carrpng 
men  up  or  down.  The  usual  stroke  in  Cornwall  is  12  feet,  ana 
there  arc  from  three  to  livo  or  six  strokes  a  minute.  With  five 
strokes  tho  men  d'iscend  10  fathoms  a  minute,  or  in  other  words  a 
descent  or  ascent  of  300  fathoms  occupies  half  an  hour.  Tho 
reciprocating  motion  is  best  obtained  from  a  crank,  because  in  this 
case  tlio  speed  is  diminished  gradually  at  the  dead  points,  and 
the  danger  of  an  accident  in  stepping  off  and  on  is  thereby  dimin- 
ished; mau-enginc'S,  however,  are  sometimes  driven  by  direct-acting 
engines. 

Wan-engine  rods  are  constructed  of  wood  or  iron  ;  and  at  An- 
dreasberg  in  the  Harz  each  rod  is  replaced  by  two  wire  ropes.  Like 
a  pump  rod  the  man-engine  rod  requires  proper  balance  bobs  and 
catches,  and  for  the  safety  of  the  men  a  handle  is  provided  at  a 
convenient  height  above  each  step. 

The  man-engine  has  one  great  advantage  over  the  cage,  which 
consists  in  the  fact  that  it  can  be  safely  applied  in  inclined  and  even  ' 
crooked  shafts  ;  and  it  is  for  this  reason  that  man-engines  have  been 
adopted  in  many  metal  mines  unprovided  with  vertical  shafts. 

Careful  comparisons  as  regards  safety  of  travelling  have  been  made 
in  Prussia  between  ladders,  man -engines,  and  cages.  The  average 
accidental  death-rate  is  3ho^vn  by  the  accompanying  table,  which 
gives  averages  for  a  period  of  ten  years,  1871  to  1880: — 


Ladders.      Stan-engines.  1  Caeca. 

Average  antuml  number  of  men  travelling. 

73,912 

75 

0-101 

7,191              M,071 
•    41                     74 
0-570               OllS 

Average  annual  death  rate  oer  1000 

B                                 V 

Tho  table  shows  that  the  cage  is  nearly  as  safe  as  ladders.  la 
reality,  if  the  actual  distance  travelled  were  taken  into  account,  tho 
cage  would  appear  to  be  safer,  because  we  may  fairly  assume  that 
the  mines  in  which  men  are  hoisted  by  cages  are  on  the  whole  very 
much  deeper  than  those  in  which  men  ascend  and  descend  by  ladders. 
The  man-engine  appears  to  be  decidedly  more  dangerous  than 
either  the  cage  or  laddere.  Here  again  a  distinction  requires  to  bo 
made  between  the  single  rod  and  the  double-rod  machines,  and  tho 
Prussian  statistics  include  many  of  the  latter.  It  will  be  readily 
undei-stood  that  a  fall  in  a  naked  shaft  ■with  few  fixed  platforms  is 
much  more  likely  to  be  fatal  than  a  fall  in  the  shaft  of  a  single-rod 
man-engine  which  is  closed  with  the  exception  of  the  manhole  at 
intervals  of  12  feet.  The  Belgian  warocquircs  are  rendered  safer 
than  the  Harz  or  Saxon  man-engines  by  having  a  railing  round  the 
back  of  each  platform  on  the  rod.  Some  of  the  double-rod  machines 
are  made  with  large  platforms  so  that  two  persons  can  stand  ou 
them,  one  going  up  and  the  other  going  down,  or  both  travelling 
in  the  same  direction.  The  use  of  double-rod  man-engines  has  been 
entirely  abandoned  in  the  United  Kingdom.  The  death-rate  from 
accidents  on  man-engines  in  Cornwall  and  Devon  during  tho 
nine  years  1873  to  1881  was  C'lT  per  1000  persons  using  them, 
whilst  the  annual  death-rate  per  1000  persons  using  ladders 
was  slightly  higher,  viz.,  0*19.  If  the  actual  distance  travelled 
were  taken  into  account,  the  scale  would  turn  more  decidedly  in 
favour  of  the  man-engine. 

The  cost  of  raising  and  lowering  men  by  the  man-engine  is  not 
great.  At  Dolcoatli,  a  tin  mine  in  Cornwall  approaching  400 
lathoms  in  depth  (see  figs.  6.2,  63),  it  is  reckoned  that  Ud.  per  man 
per  day  covers  all  expenses,  including  interest  upon  tho  capital 
expended  and  depreciation  of  plant. 

■"  13.  Dressing  or  Mechanical  Preparation  of  Ores, — In  a  Dresang 
largo  number  of  cases  the  mineral,  as  it  is  raised  from  the  °^  o*"^ 
jiune,  is  not  ready  for  sale.  It  usually  requires  to  be  sub- 
jtried  to  mechanical  processes  whereby  the  good  ore  is 
'■iiLirely  or  partly  freed  from  valueless  veinstone.  These 
jTonesses,  which  in  a  few  special  instances  are  aided  by 
calcination  in  furnaces,  are  known  as  the  dressing  or 
ineclianical  preparation  of  the  ores.  As  a  rule  the  valuable 
ore  is  specifically  heavier  than  the  veinstone,  and  most  of 
tlie  separating  processes  are  based  upon  the  fact  that  the 
hoavy  i)article3  of  ore  will  fall  in  water  more  quickly  than 
tho  light  particles  of  veinstone. 

The  processes  of  mechanical  preparation  may  be  classified 
as  follows  :—(!)  washing  and  hand-sorting ;  (2)  disintegra- 
tion, or  reduction  in  size ;  (3)  classification  bv  size  or  by 
equivalence ;  (4)  concentration. 

(1)  Sometimes  the  ore  coming  from  the  mine  requires  Washinjj 
simply  to  be  freed  from  adliering  particles  of  clay  in  order 


DBESSUIO.] 


MINING 


463 


Disin* 
tegra- 
tion. 


Stone- 
'breakc 


to  be  rendered  fit  for  sale,  at  other  times  the  washing  ia 
necessary  as  a  preliminary  process  previous  to  sorting  by 
hand.  The  operation  is  performed  either  by  raking  the 
ore  backwards  and  forwards  upon  a  grating  under  a  stream 
of  water,  or  in  a  box  containing  water,  or,  thirdly,  by 
means  of  an  inclined  revolving  iron  drum  worked  by  hand 
or  any  other  motive  power. "  The  machines  used  for  this 
purpose,  known  as  washing  trommels,  are  revolving 
cylinders  or  truncated  cones  of  sheet-iron  provided  with 
teeth  inside.  The  ore  is  fed  in  at  one  end,  is  subjected  to 
the  action  of  a  stream  of  water,  and  is  diiicharged  at  the 
other  end. 

The  stuff,  i.e.,  the  mixed  ore,  veinstone,  and  country 
rock,  having  been  cleansed,  it  is  now  possible  to  make  a 
separation  by  hand.  Women  and  children  are  generally 
employed  for  this  work,  as  their  labour  is  cheaper  and 
their  sight  sharper  than  that  of  men.  The  stufi  is  spread 
out  on  a  table,  and  various  classes  are  picked  out  according 
to  the  nature  of  the  products  furnished  by  the  mine. 
Thus  in  a  lead  mine  we  may  have — (a)  clean  galena,  (6) 
mixed  ore,  i.e.,  pieces  consisting  partly  of  galena  and 
partly  of  barren  veinstone,  (c)  barren  veinstone  and  country 
rock.  This  is  a  most  simple  case;  very  frequently  we 
have  to  deal  with  a  vein  producing  ores  of  two  metals, 
especially  in  the  case  of  lead  and.  zinc,  and  then  the 
classification  into  various  qualities  becomes  more  com- 
plicated. 

(2)  Reduction  in  size  is  necessary  for  two  reasons.  Even 
when  an  ore  is  sufficiently  clean  for  the  smelter,  the  large 
lumps  are  often  crushed  by  the  miner  for  the  sake  of 
obtaining  a  fair  sample  of  the  whole,  or  supplying  a 
product  which  is  at  once  fit  for  the  furnace.  The  chief 
reason,  however,  for  disintegration  lies  in  the  fact  that  the 
particiss  of  ore  are  generally  found  enclosed  in  or  adhering 
to  particles  of  barren  veinstone. 

The  disintegration  is  effected  by  hand  or  by  machinery. 
Large  blocks  of  ore  and  veinstone  are  broken  by  men  with 
large  sledge  hammers,  and  the  reduction  in  size  is  continued 
very  often  by  women  with  smaller  hammers.  Sometimes 
the  blow  of  the  hammer  is  directed  so  as  to  separate  the 
good  from  the  poorer  parts,  and  hand-picking  accompanies 
this  process,  csJled  cobhiru;.  Ore  may  be  crushed  fine  by 
a  flat-headed  hammer  (bucking  iron)  on  an  iron  plate. 

The  machines  used  for  reducing  ores  to  smaller  sizes  are 
very  numerous ;  here  it  is  impossible  to  do  more  than 
briefly  call  attention  to  those  most  commonly  used.  These 
are  stone-breakers,  stamps,  rolls,  mills,  and  centrifugal 
pulverizers. 

The  stone-breaker,  or  rock-breaker,  is  a  machine  with 
two  jaws,  one  of  which  is  made  to  approach  the  other,  and 


l-'lo.  98. — Blake's  Stonebreaker,  improved  by  ilarsdea. 
60  crack  any  stone  which  lies  between  them.     The  best- 
known  stone-breaker  is  the  machine  invented  by  Blake, 
\Thich  has  rendered  inestimable  services  to  the  miner  for 


the  last  twenty  years,  and  the  introduction  of  which  con- 
stituted a  most  important  step  in  advance  in  the  art  of 
ore-dressing.  Its  mode  of  action  ia  very  simple.  When 
the  shaft  A  (fig.  98)  revolves,  an  excentric  raises  the 
"  pitman  "  B,  and  this,  by  means  of  the  toggle-plates  C,  O, 
causes  the  movable  jaw  D  to  approach  the  fixed  jaw  E 
by  about  |  inch  at  the  bottoln.  When  the  pitman  descends 
the  jaw  is  drawn  back  by  an  india-rubber  spring.  The 
jaws  are  usually  fluted,  the  ridges  of  one  jaw  being 
opposite  the  grooves  of  the  other,  and  they  are  so  con- 
structed that  the  wearing  parts  are  ouickly  and  easily 
replaced. 

Mr  Marsden  of  Leeds  has  lately  introduced  a  pulverizer, 
constructed  on  the  principle  of  the  stone-breaker,  which 
will  reduce  large  stones  to  the  finest  powder  in  one  operas 
tion.  The  moving  jaw  has  an  up-and-down  as  well  as  the 
old  backwards-and-forwards  motion,  and  the  stones  are 
first  cracked  and  then  ground  by  the  double  action. 

Stamps  are  pestles  and  mortars  worked  by  machinery,  stamps. 
The  construction  of  the  modem  California  stamp  mill  with 
revolving  heads  is  explained  in  Gold,  vol.  x.  p.  747,  and 
the  description  need  not  be  repeatei     In  Cornwall  the 
older  form  with  rectangular  heads  still  prevails. 

It  is  impossible  to  give  any  correct  average  figures 
representing  the  work  done  by  a  stamping  mill,  because 
this  varies  with  the  hardness  of  the  stuff  treated  and  the 
fineness  to  which  it  must  be  reduced.  However,  it  is  usual 
in  Cornwall  to  reckon  1  ton  of  tinstufi  and  in  California  1 
to  1;^  ton  of  gold  ouartz  stamped  per  horse-power  in 
twenty-four  hours. 

Stamps  are  principauy  usea  in  dressing  the  ores  of  gold, 
silver,  and  tin,  but  are  occasionally  employed  for  those  of 
copper  and  lead.  The  stamps  described  at  vol.  x.  p.  747 
act  simply  by  gravity.  Another  form,  which  has  met 
with  favour  in  the  Lake  Superior  district,  is  the  direct- 
acting  or  Ball  stamp,  which  works  like  a  steam  hammer, 
the  blow  of  the  iead  being  assisted  by  the  pressure  of 
steam.  At  the  Calumet  and  Hecla  Mill,  Lake  Superior, 
each  Ball  stamp  is  capable  of  crushing  130  tons  in  twenty- 
four  hours.  In  a  third  kind  of  stamps,  the  heads  are  lifted 
by  a  crank  and  the  power  of  the  up-stroke  compresses  a 
cushion  of  air  (pneumatic  stamps)  or  a  spring,  storing  up 
power  which  m?.kes  the  dovra-stroke  strike  a  heavier  blow. 

Revolving  rolls  were  introduced  in  the  west  of  England  Rolls. 
'  in  the  early  part  of  the  present  century  to  replace  bvchinf/ 
by  hand.  The  machine,  now  often  known  as  the  Cornish 
crusher,  consists  of  two  cask-iron  or  steel  cylinders  which 
revolve  towards  each  other,  whilst  at  the  same  time  they 
are  kept  pressed  together  by  levers  or  springs.  The 
cylinders  or  rolls  are  generally  from  18  inches  to  2  feet  or 
2  feet  8  inches  in  diameter  and  12  to  22  inches  wide. 

Stone  mills  construsted  like  flour  mills  are  employed  in  Uills^ 
some  countries  for  reducing  ores  to  powder;  and  the 
arrastra,  which  consists  of  heavy  stones  dragged  round 
upon  a  stone  bed,  has  rendered  good  service  in  grinding 
and  amalgamating  gold  and  silver  ores,  in  spite  of  its  being 
slow  and  cumbersome.  Edge-runners  (Chilian  miUs)  also 
deserve  menfion. 

Iron  mills,  known  as  jxtns,  with  grinding  surfaces  made 
of  chilled  cast-iron  and  arranged  so  that  they  can  be 
quickly  and  easily  replaced  when  worn  out,  are  greatly  in 
vogue  in  the  United  States  for  the  treatment  of  ores  of 
gold  and  silver ;  the  ore  delivered  to  them  is  already  finely 
divided,  ^nd  they  are  intended,  not  only  still  further  to 
reduce  the  size  of  the  particles,  but  also  and  more  especially 
to  effect  the  amalgamation  of  the  precious  metals  with 
quicksilver.  The  pulverizers  used  in  Cornwall  for  grinding 
grains  of  tin  ore  with  a  little  waste  still  adhering  to  them 
are  also  iron  mills 

The  centrifugal  pulverizers  are  machines  by  which  the 


464 


MINING 


rsBEseui'o. 


Oentri-    pieces  of  ore  are  thrown  with  great  velocity  against  bars  or 
•"sal       arms,  or  against  each  other,  and  so  reduced  to  powder ;  in 
pitlrer-    Qj-jjgj.  machines  iron  balls  or  iron  rollers  are  whirled  by 
centrifugal  force   against  an  iron  casing   and  grind  any 
mineral  contained  inside  it.     These  pulverizers  are  much 
less  used  than  stone-breakers,  stamps,  and  rolls  for  the  dis- 
integration of  metallic  ores. 
Classifi-       (S)  Classification  of  a  crushed  ore  into  sizes  is  absolutely 
cation  of  necessary  in  some  cases  and  ad\'isable  in  others,  because 
""'•       the  subsequent  concentration  is  dependent  upon  the  fall 
of  the  particles  in  water,  as  will  be  presently  explained. 
Classification  by  size  is  effected  by  sieves.     Hand  sieves 
and  flat  sieves  placed  one  above  the  other  have  been  super- 
seded at  most  dressing  establishments  by  cylindrical   or 
conical   revolving   screens   known   as   trommels.      These 
screens  are  made  of  wire  web  or  of  perforated  sheets  of 
metal,  and  they  are  often  arranged  so  as  to  discharge  one 
into  the  other,  so  that  the  ore  from  a  crusher  can  quickly 
be  separated  into  classes  of  various  sizes. 

With  sizes  of  less  than  1  millimetre  (Jj  inch)  trommels 
are  no  longer  employed,  and  recourse  is  had  to  the  .so-called 
separators  or  classifiers.  These  are  boxes  in  the  shape  of 
inverted  cones  or  pyramids  into  which  the  finely  crushed 
ore  is  brought  by  means  of  a  current  of  water ;  a  jet  of 
clean  water  is  often  made  to  rise  up  in  the  bottom ;  the 
larger  and  the  specifically  heavier  particles  fall  and  are 
discharged  vrlth  a  stream  of  water  at  or  near  the  bottom, 
whilst  the  smaller  and  specifically  lighter  particles  flow 
away  at  the  top.  The  separators  do  not  effect  a  true  classi- 
fication by  size  ;  they  merely  caiise  a  division  by  equivalence, 
a  term  which  wiU  be  explained  immediately. 
Concen-  (4)  We  now  have  to  deal  v/ith  the  enriching  of  the  ore, 
tiaUon.  or  the  concentration  of  the  valuable  particles  into  as  small 
a  bulk  as  is  economically  advantageous.  The  concentration 
is  generally  brought  about  by  the  fall  of  the  particles  in 
water.  Occasionally  the  fall  in  air  is  utilized;  mercury  is 
employed  as  a  collecting  agent  in  the  case  of  gold  and 
silver,  and  in  a  few  instances  magnetism  can  be  applied. 

The  concentration  in  water  depends  upon  the  difference 
in  specific  gravity  of  the  valuable  ore  and  the  waste  vein- 
stone or  rock.  A  piece  of  galena  with  a  specific  gravity  of 
7  "5  sinks  to  the  bottom  more  quickly  than  a  similar  piece 
of  quartz,  the  density  of  which  is  only  2 '6.  Nevertheless 
a  large  piece  of  quartz  may  fall  to  the  bottom  as  quickly 
as  a  small  piece  of  galena.  Particles  which  have  equal 
velocities  of  fall,  though  differing  in  size  and  specific 
gravity,  are  said  to  be  equal-faUing,  or  equivalent.  P.  von 
Eittinger  shows  that  a  sphere  of  quartz  of  \  inch  in 
diameter  would  sink  in  water  exactly  as  quickly  as  a  sphere 
of  galena  of  -Jj  inch  in  diameter,  and  these  two  particles 
are  therefore  equal-falling.  Consequently,  before  wa  can 
separate  properly  by  water  it  is  neoessary  to  classify  the 
particles  by  size,  so  that  equivalence  shall  not  prevent  a 
separation  or  lessen  its  sharpness.  It  is  nevertheless  true 
that  in  the  early  part  of  the  fall  of  equivalent  grains  the 
influence  of  the  specific  gravity  preponderates,  and  the 
denser  particles  take  the  lead ;  therefore,  by  a  frequent 
repetition  of  very  small  falls,  particles  which  have  not  been 
closely  sized  may  still  be  separated. 
JigEsra.  Thu  principal  machine  for  concentrating  particles  of  sizes 
ranging  between  1  inch  and  -^j;  inch  is  the  jig  or  jigger. 
The  hand  jigger  is  merely  a  round  sieve  which  is  charged 
with  the  crushed  ore  and  then  moved  up  and  dowu  in  a 
tub  full  of  water.  The  particles  gradually  arrange  them- 
selves in  layers,  the  heaviest  on  the  bottom  and  the  lightest 
at  the  top.  On  lifting  out  the  sieve  the  light  waste  can 
be  skimmed  off  with  a  scraper,  leaving  the  concentrated  pro- 
duct below  ready  for  the  smelter  or  for  further  treatment. 
Similar  sieves  worked  by  machinery  were  for  a  long  time 
employed  in  dressing  establishments,  but  the  introduction 


of  the  improved  continuous  jiggers  has  led  tcr  the£ 
abandonment  in  all  works  of  any  importance.  The  cod 
tinuous  jigger  is  one  of  the 
most  useful  dressing  ma- 
chines of  the  present  day. 
It  consists  of  a  box  or  hutch 
divided  by  a  partial  partition 
into  two  compartments ;  in 
one  is  fixed  a  flat  sieve  s  (fig. 
99),  which  carries  the  ore, 
and  in  the  other  a  piston  p 
is  made  to  work  up  and 
down  by  moans  of  an-  ex- 
centric.  The  hutch  being 
full  of  water,  the  movement 
of  the  piston  causes  the  water 
to  rise  up  and  fall  down 
through  the  ore,  lifting  it 
and  letting  it  fall  repeatedly. 
The  effect  of  these  frequent 
lifts  and  falls  is  tocause  a  sepa- 
ration of  the  previously  sized 


Fig.  99. 


ore  into  layers  of  rich  mineral  at  the  bottom,  light  waste  at 
the  top,  and  particles  of  ore  mixed  with  waste  in  the  middle. 

Tho  great  value  of  these  jiggers  is  the  continuous  discharge  of 
the  products  without  stoppages  for  their  removah  Several  methods 
are  in  vogue,  viz.,  the  end  discharge,  the  central  discharge,  and 
the  discharge  through  the  meshes  of  the  sieve.  With  the  first,  the 
enriched  product  lying  at  the  bottom  of  the  sieve  passes  out  through 
openings  at  the  end  of  the  jigger,  and  the  amount  escaping  is 
governed  by  an  adjustable  cap  or  shutter,  by  which  the  size  of  the 
openings  can  be  increased  or  diminished  at  pleasure  ;  the  middle 
product  can  be  discharged  by  openings  placed  a  httle  higher  up, 
whilst  the  waste  is  washed  over  the  top  of  the  end  of  the  jigger  at 
each  pulsation.  Very  often  a  fh'st  sieve  simply  separates  a  conceu- 
trated  product  and  discharges  the  poorer  product  into  a  second  sieve, 
where  a  similar  separation  is  effected.  With  the  central  discharge, 
a  pipe  is  brought  up  through  the  bottom  of  the  sieve,  and  the  size 
of  the  opening  for  the  escape  of  the  concentrated  ore  is  regulated 
by  a  cyUndrical  cap 
which  can  be  raised  or 
lowered  by  a  screw.  Tho 
discharge  through  tho 
sieve  is  especially  adapted 
for  the  finer  products 
from  the  crusher,  though 
it  is  also  used  in  some 
cases  for  grains  up  to  i 
inch  in  diameter.  The 
mesh  of  the  sieve  is 
chosen  so  that  the  par- 
ticles imder  treatment 
will  just  pass  through, 
but  above  the  sieve  a 
layer  of  clean  ore  is 
placed  which  prevents 
anything  but  the  heavier 
particles  from  being  dis- 
charged. The  pulsations 
of  tlie  water,  as  before, 
cause  a  separation  inlo 
layers,    and    the    heavy 

rich  particles  lind  their  ^.     ,.^ 

waytl.roughtbobednnd  V^S■^^0. 

drop  into  tho  hutch,  whence  they  can  be  drawn  oft'  through  a  hole 
at  pleasure.  The  poorer  part  passes  over  a  siniple  sill  at  the  end  of 
the  sieve,  or  to  a  second  sieve  if  necessary.  Three  or  four  sieves 
are  occasionally  arranged  in  a  row  in  one  machine. 

Fig.  100  is  a  section  through  the  two  sieves  of  a  Harz  §and  jig. 
The  pistons  act  in  the  manner  explained  by  fig.  99. 

The  smaller  sizes  are  concentrated  by  a  variety  of 
machines.  The  action  of  many  of  them  is  based  upon  the 
behaviour  of  particles  carried  down  an  inclined  plane  by  a 
thin  stream  of  water.  If  the  gradient  of  the  plane  and 
tho  strength  of  the  thin  current  are  properly  arranged,  the 
denser  particles  will  bo  deposited  and  the  specifically  lighter 
ones  washed  away,  although  they  may  be  equal-falling  if 
allowed  to  settle  in  deep  water. 


xs^"^ 


■BESSIKC] 


MINING 


465 


The  principal  machines  for  concentrating  fine  sands  and 
sEmes  are  the  frame,  rotating  frame,  percussion  frame, 
side-blow  percussion  frame,  revolving  belt  and  True 
vanner,  the  hand  huddle,  the  round  buddle,  and  the  keeve. 

The  frame  is  simply  an  inclined  wooden  table  upon  which  a  thin 
deposit  is  formed  by  thp  sLeet  of  ore-and-waste-bearing  water  whi'h 
is  made  to  flow  over  it  gently.     The  stream  is  then  stopped  and  i 
deposit  washed  off  by  hand  or  automatically,  and  collected  in  i- 
for  subsequent  retreatment  by  similar  appliances  if  necessary. 

The  rotating  frame  is  a  round  table  with  a  very  flat  convex 
eonical  surface ;  the  ore  for  suspension  flows  on  at  one  part  of  the 
centre  and  forms  a  thin  deposit  which  is  richest  at  the  top  and 
poorest  at  the  bottom,  and  tnis  deposit  is  washed  ofl"  so  as  to  form 
I  two  classes  by  means  of  jets  of  water,  under  which  the  table  passes 
as  it  turns  round.  Concave  rotating  tables,  fed  at  the  circumfer- 
ence, are  also  employed. 

The  percussion  frame,  the  Stossheerd  of  the  Germans,  is  a  table 
enspenaed  by  four  chains  which  receives  a  succession  of  blows 
from  a  cam  in  the  direction  of  the  stream  flowing  over  it ;  after  each 
blow  it  bumps  against  a  piece  of  timber  before  receiving  the  next 
blow.  These  bumps  cause  the  ore  to  settle,  and  after  a  thick 
deposit  is  formed  it  is  dug  off  with  the  shovel,  the  upper  end 
being  richer  than  the  middle  or  the  tail. 

Rittinger's  side-blow  percussion  frame  is  a  suspended  rectangular 
table  ABCD  (fig.  101),  receiving  blows  and  bumps  on  the  side  and 
not  on  the  end.    A  stream  of  orey  s     „ 

water  S  is  fed  on  at  the  corner  A; 
clean  water  W  is  sup}>iied  by  the 
other  head-boards  H,  H,  H  ;  and 
the  table  is  pushed  out  by  cams  in 
the  direction  of  the  arrow,  and  is 
driven  back  by  a  spring  so  that 
the  cross-piece  E  strikes  against  a 
!  bnmping-block  K.  The  light  par- 
ticles travel  down  the  table  much 
faster  than  the  heavy  ones,  and 
take  a  comparatively  sti^aight 
course ;  whereas  the  heavy  and 
richer  particles  remain  on  the 
table,  eubiect  to  the  influence  of 
the  side-blows,  for  a  much  longer 
time,  and  travelling  alongacurved 
path  reach  the  bottom  at  F.  The 
uiiddle_  class  is  discharged  at  G 
and  the  poor  waste  at  K.  The 
exact  degree  of  richness  of  the 
products  can  be  regulated  by  alter- 
ing the  pointei-s,  strips  of  wood 
which  can  be  turned  so  as  to  divide  the  stream  of  ore  and  waste 
where  thought  most  desirable.  The  great  advantage  of  this 
machine  over  tut-  old  percussion  frame  is  its  continuous  action. 

The  Frue  vaiiiicr  (fig.  102)  may  be  looked  upon  as  an  improved  form 
of  Brunton's  simple  revolving  belt.  It  is  an  endless  band  of  india- 
rubber  cloth,  tianged  on  each 
side,  which  i-cvolves  slowly  in  ^^-< 
tlie  dii'cction  of  the  arrows,  ^^ — 
whilst  at  the  same  time  it  is 
shakcu  sideways  by  a  crank 
motion.  The  orey  water  is  fed 
on  at  A,  clean  water  at  B.  The 
natural  path  of  the  particles  is 
dowu  the  inclined  belt,  but  the  specifically  heavier  ones  settle  upon 
it  and  are  carried  upwards.  Those  that  can  resist  the  action  of  the 
stream  of  clean  water  at  B  go  over  the  end  and  are  washed  off  as 
the  belt  passes  through  the  tank.  The  poor  stufi'  falls  into  the 
waste  launder.  The  degree  of  concentration  can  be  regulated  by  the 
slope  and  speed  of  the  belt  and  the  strength  of  the  streams  of  ore 
and  water.  The  Frue  vanner  has  the  disadvantage  that  it  makes 
'  ^nly  two  classes,  rich  and  poor,  without  any  intermediate  product. 

The  hand  buddle  is  a  reetangiilar  wooden  box  with  a  sloping 
bottom.  A  stream  of  fine  ore  and  waste  suspended  in  water  is  fed 
in  at  the  upper  end  and  giadually  forms  a  deposit  on  the  bed  of  the 
buildle.  A  boy  with  a  broom  keeps  the  to]>  of  the  sediment  smooth, 
so  as  to  ensure  regularity  of  action.  After  a  thick  deposit  has 
accumulated,  it  is  dug  out  in  sections  which  decrease  iu  richness 
from  the  upper  end  {head)  to  the  lower  end  (tail). 

Kourid  buddies,  like  rotating  frames,  are  of  two  kinds,  convex  and 
concave.  Tlie  convex  round  buddle  (figs.  103 '  and  104)  is  a  circular 
pit  wi  til  a  truncated  cone,  or  head,  of  varying  size  in  the  centre,  and 
a  bottom  sloping  towards  the  circumference.  The  orey  stream  A 
fallih"  over  this  head  runs  do«-n  gently,  depositing  the  heaviest 
particles  near  the  top,  the  lighter  ones  further  down,  whilst  the 


Fig.  101. 


Fig.  102. 


lightest  of  all  Bow  away  at  C.    The  surface  of  the  sediment  is  kept 
even  by  revolving  brushes  D.  _  This  machine  may  he  compared  to 


Fig.  103. 


a  number  of  hand  buddies  arranged  radially  round  a  centre.    The 
deposit  that  is  formed  is  dug  out  in  rings  of  varying  richness. 


>  '  Henry  T.  Ferguson,  "  On  the  Mechanical  Appliances  Used  for 
Dressing  Tin  and  Coi>per  Oks  in  Cornwall,",  Proc.  Inst.  Meeh.  £na.. 
1873   pL  41. 


Fig.  104. 
The  concave  buddle  ia  a  circular  pit  with  the  bottom  slopuig  to- 
wards the  centre.    The  stream  of  ore  is  fed  all  round  the  circum-! 
ferenco,  and  runs  inwards  to  the  middle,  where  the  lightest  particles 
escape.     The  rich  head  is  of  course  near  the  circumference. 

The  keeve  is  a  large  tub  in  which  the  fine  stuff  is  stirred  with  Kea»B 
water  and  then  is  allowed  to  settle  from  a  state  of  siispension 
while  blows  are  being  struck  on  the  side  of  the  tub.     The  deposit 
is  afterwards  scraped  out  in  layers  which  increase  in  richness  as 
they  approach  the  bottom. 

The  series  of  processes  employed  in  dressing  an  ore  varies,  Drestim 
not  only  according  to  the  nature  of  the  particular  mineral  different 
to  be  concentrated,  but  also  according  to  the  size  of  its  o™'- 
particles  and  the  nature  of  the  other  minerals  with  which 
it  is  associated. 

With  gold  the  reduction  in  size  ia  usually  effected  by  ooldj 
stone-breakers  and  stamps,  and  much  of  the  metal  is  then 
caught  by  mercury  j  what  escapes  is  concentrated  with  its 
accompanying  pyrites  by  inclined  tables  covered  with 
blankets,  or  by  buddies,  and  the  concentrate  is  treated  by 
amalgamation  or  chlorination.     See  Gold,  vol,  x.  p.  746. 

In  the  case  of  silver  the  ore  is  frequently  pulverized  by  SiHei 
stamps,  and  the  resulting  pulp  amalgamated  in  pans  or 
barrels.  The  ore  may  also  be  concentrated  by  any  of  tho 
various  machines  described,  and  delivered  to  the  smelter. 
Many  of  the  ores  of  silver  are  sent  to  the  smelting  works 
without  any  concentration  by  water,  as  this  would  cause  a 
serious  loss. 

Lead  ore  is  generally  crushed  by  rolls,  often  after  a  pre-  Lead. 
liminary  reduction  in  size  by  the  stone-breaker.  The' 
crushed  ore  is  classified  by  revolving  screens  down  to  the 
size  of  1  mm.,  and  the  resulting  grains  concentrated  by, 
jigging;  dredge,  or  grains  of  ore  and  matrix,  must  be 
recrushed,  sized,  and  jigged.  The  finer  sizes  are  classified 
by  pyramidal  boxes  and  concentrated  by  frames,  rotating, 
tables,  and  buddies. 

Zinc  ore  is  dres.sed  in  the  same  way  as  lead  ore ;  andj^as 
galena  and  zinc-blende  are  frequently  intimately  associated 
together,  it  is  necessary  to  separate  them  by  the  use  of  ths 
jig,  buddle,  and  frame. 


16—18 


466 


MINING 


[LEaiSLATIOir. 


Jla»  Tin-bearing  rock  is  crushed  by  the  stone-breaker  and 

then  stamped  fine.  The  resulting  sand  and  slime  may  be 
concentrated  by  the  repeated  use  of  the  round  buddle,  with 
the  keeve  for  a  final  cleaning ;  but  often  the  sand  only  is 
enriched  by  the  buddle,  whilst  the  very  finest  particles, 
constituting  an  almost  impalpable  mud  (slime)  when  mixed 
with  water,  are  treated  by  frames.  "When  much  pyrites 
is  present  it  is  necessary  to  make  a  preliminary  concentra- 
tion and  roast  the  enriched  product  (tvitts)  in  a  furnace. 
The  calcination  converts  the  heavy  iron  and  arsenical 
pjTites  into  a  light  oxide  which  can  be  got  rid  of  with  the 
jrest  of  the  waste  by  huddling  and  framing.  The  final 
product  from  the  keeve  is  clean  enough  to  approach  pui-e 
cassiterito  in  the  percentage  of  metal.  Alluvial  tin  ore  is 
concentrated  in  sluice-boxes,  and  sometimes  by  jiggers,  after 
a  preliminary  treatment  in  a  puddling-'machine  (Gold, 
vol.  X.  p.  7-15)  if  there  are  balls  of  clay  which  have  to  be 
broken  up.  When  the  alluvial  ore  occurs  as  a  hard  con- 
glomerate [cement),  it  has  to  be  stamped. 
Copp;..'''  Copper  ores  arc  treated  by  crushing  by  rolls  and  some- 
times stamps,  sizing  by  trommels,  and  then  jigging  and 
huddling ;  but,  as  .some  of  the  ores  are  very  friable  and 
easily  carried  av.-ay  by  water,  hand-picking  is  employed 
to  a  greater  extent  than  with  lead  and  tin  ore,  and  the 
enrichment  by  water  is  not  carried  so  far  on  account 
of  the  inevitable  loss  that  would  ensue.  The  amount 
of  concentration  depends  upon  the  distance  from  the 
smelting  works,  and  the  mine-owner  has  to  calculate 
whether  it  is  best  to  get  a  low  price  for  a  largo  quantity 
of  ore,  after  paying  the  carriage,  or  a  higher  price  for 
a  smaller  lot  [parcel)  when  due  allowance  has  been 
made  for  the  cost  of  dressing  and  loss  sustained  in  that 
process.  Thus,  for  instance,  in  Cornwall,  the  ore  containing 
copper  pyrites  is  dressed  so  as  to  contain  only  from  5  to  8 
or  9  per  cent,  of  metal,  because  it  can  easily  be  conveyed 
to  Swansea  by  sea,  and  because  further  reduction  in  bulk 
would  cause  greater  loss  in  value  than  the  saving  of  freight. 
1,033  in  The  loss  in  dressing  is  very  considerable.  P.  von 
VlressiD,--.  Rittinger  estimates  it  at  from  80  to  SO  per  cent.,  and 
stubborn  facts  bear  out  his  conclusions.  Heaps  of  refuse 
from  dressing  floors  are  frequently  worked  over  again  with 
profit;  and  in  the  year  18S1  no  less  than  909  tons  of 
"  black  tin  "  (i.e.,  concentrated  tin  ore  fit  for  the  smelter), 
worth  il35,283,  were  extracted  from  the  muddy  water 
allowed  to  flow  away  from  the  dressing  floors  of  some  bf 
the  principal  Cornish  tin  mines. 

The  fall  in  air  lias  been  employed  instead  of  the  fall  in  water  for 

concentrating  purposes,  and  several  ingenious  air-jigs  have  been 

constructed  and  Tvorked  upon  tliis  principle. 

Separa-        In  exceptional  cases  magnetic  attraction  may  be  utilized.     Mag- 

tioE  by    netic  iron  can  be  separated  in  this  way,  and  tlio  magnetic  process  is 

maniet-   applied  for  treating  mixed  blende  and  chalybite,  the  specific  gravities 

isnf         of  which  are  too  close  to  render  concentration  by  water  practicable. 

The  mixed  ore  is  calcined,  and  the  chalybite  is  thus  converted  into 

magnetic  iron,  which  can  be  extracted  by  a  magnetic  separator, 

leaving  saleable  blende. 

Recent  Before  concluding  this  part  of  the  subject  we  \vill  briefly 
improve-  enumerate  the  principal  improvements  that  have  been 
'"*"'^-  '  made  in  metal-mining  during  the  last  quarter  of  a  century 
They  are  as  follows : — diamond-drill  for  prospecting ; 
machine  drills  for  driving,  sinking,  and  stoping;  use  of 
compressed  air  for  winding  underground ;  stronger  explo- 
•sives,  especially  the  nitro-glycerin  compounds  dynamite 
and  blasting  gelatin;  increased  use  of  steel  for  various 
purposes;  Blake's  stone-breaker  and  continuous  jiggers; 
•.  xtended  application  of  hydraulic  raining  ;  larger  employ- 
ment of  electricity  both  for  blasting  purposes  and  for 
signalling  by  telegraph  and  telephone.  It  may  be  reason- 
ably hoped  that  ere  long  electricity  will  render  increased 
.services  to  the  miner  for  lighting  the  workings  and  for  the 
transmission  of  power. 


14.  Recent  Lcjidalion  afecllng  Mine::  in  the  UrUled King-  Rw.-nt 
dom.^ — In  England  the  person  owning  the  surface  of  a  free-  Br.tist 
hold  is  prima  facie  entitled  to  all  the  minerals  underneath,  l^^"* 
excepting  in  the  case  of  mines  of  gold  and  silver,  which  be-     * 
long  to  the  crown.     The  €ro\vn,  however,  does  not  claim 
gold  and  silver  extracted  from  the  ores  of  the  baser  metals. 

The  omiership  of  the  minerals  can  be,  and  often  is,  severed 
from  tliat  of  the  surface,  the  i3.tter  being  sold  whilst  the 
mineral  rights  ai'e  reserved  by  the  original  owner.  Local 
customs,  now  regulated  by  Acts  of  Parliament,  are  still  in 
force  in  Derbyshire  (High  Peak  Mining  Customs  and 
Mineral  Courts  Act,  1851,  \i  &,  15  Vict.  c.  94,  and  the 
Derbyshire  Mining  Customs  and  Mineral  Courts  Act,  18.")  2, 
15  <&  16  Vict.  c.  43)  and  in  the  Forest  of  Dean  (1  i;  2 
Vict.  c.  43,  and  24  &  25  Vict.  c.  40).  The  Stannaries 
Act  (32  &  33  Vict.  c.  19)  regulates  the  commercial  dealings 
of  mining  companies  in  Cornwall  and  Devon,  and  provides 
for  their  liquidation. 

The  working  of  mines  in  tno  United  Kingdom  is  con- 
trolled by  five  Acts  of  Parliament,  viz.,  "  The  Coal  Mines 
Regulation  Act,  1872"  (35  &  36  Vict.  c.  76),  "Tha 
Metalliferous  Mines  Regulation  Acts,  1872  and  1877"  (35 
&  36  Vict.  c.  77,  and  38  &  39  Vict  c.  39),  "The  Stratified 
Ironstone  Mines  (Gunpowder)  Act,  1881  "  (44  &  45  Victj 
c.  26),  and  "The  Slate  Mines  (Gunpowder)  Act,  1883"^ 
(45  Victi  c.  3).  The  last  three  Acts  simply  refer  to  tha 
annual  returns,  and  exemptions  from  certain  restrictions 
concerning  the  use  of  gunpowder. 

The  Coal  Mines  Regulation  Act  applies  to  mines  of  coal,.  stratiSeS 
ironstone^  shale,  and  tii-e-clay.  The  iMetalliferous  Mines  liegulation 
Act  applies  to  all  mines  not  included  under  the  Coal  Slines  Act, 
and  therefore  controls  not  only  workings  for  lead,  tin,  copper,  and 
iron,  commonly  known  as  mines,  but  also  the  salt-mines,  and  under- 
ground quarries  worked  for  stone,  slate,  or  otlier  earthy  minerals. 
The  principal  provisions  of  the  Coal  Mines  Rcralatiou  Act  have 
beeu  set  forth  at  vol.  vi.  p.  78  ;  those  of  the  lletalliferous  Mines 
Regulation  Act  arc  similar,  but  less  strict  owing  to  the  almost 
complete  absence  of  iire-damp.  One  important  difference  is  that 
the  manager  of  a  mine  under  the  Metalliferous  Act  need  not  hold 
E.ny  certificate  of  competency  or  service. 

Other  Acts  of  Parliament  are  the  "Explosives  Act,  1875"  (33 
Vict.  c.  17),  regulating  the  manner  in  which  explosives  are  stored  ; 
the  "Elementary  Education  Acts,  1876  and  1S80"  (38  &  39  Vict, 
c.  79,  and  43  &  44  Vict.  c.  23),  regulating  the  emploj-ment  of 
children  ;  tho  "  Factory  and  ^Vorkshop  Act,  1878"  (41  Vict.  c.  16), 
which  applies  to  the  diessins  floors  of  mines  under  the  Metalliferous 
Mines  Regulation  Act. 

The  statute  of  Elizabeth  (43  Eliz.  c.  2)  which  was  passed  for 
raising  money  for  tho  relief  of  tho  poor  mentions  coal  mines, 
but  omits  other  mines;  these  have  been  made  subject  to  poor- 
rates  by  "The  Rating  Act,  1874"  (37  &  33  Vict.  c.  54).  Tho 
"Employers'  Liability  Act,. 1880"  (43  &  44  Vict.  c.  42),  extends 
and  regulates  the  liability  of  employers  to  make  compensation  for 
personal  injuries  suifercd  by  workmen  in  their  service.  Fii.aUy, 
if,  as  sometimes  happens,  works  are  put  up  at  a  mine  for  roasting 
copper  ores  with  common  salt  in  order  to  extract  tlio  metal  by  tha 
wet  way,  the  provisions  of  tho  "Alkali,  kc.  Works  Reguktiou 
Act,  1881"  (44  &  45  Vict.  c.  37),  must  be  attended  to. 

It  is  thus  very  eviJeut  that  tho  laws  aflecting  mines  have  received 
most  important  additions  during  tlie  last  few  years. 

15.  AccidenU  in  Mines. — Mining  is  one  of  the  occupa-  Accldartm 
tions  that  -may  decidedly  be  called  hazardous.     This  fact 

has  been  thoroughly  impressed  upon  the  public  mind  by 
explosions  of  fire-damp  in  collieries  ;  but,  though  accidents 
of  this  kind  are  appalling,  owing  to  the  number  of  victims 
who  perish  at  one  time,  fire-damp  is  by  no  means  the  worst 
enemy  with  which  tho  miner  has  to  contend.  Falls  of 
roof  and  sides  both  in  collieries  and  metal  mines  are  far 
more  fatal  in  their  results.  With  the  risks  attending 
the  colUer's  calling  we  need  not  deal,  as  statistics  upon 


'  For  information  concerning  tho  laws  relating  to  mines  in  the  United 
Kingdom,  see  "W.  Bainbridge,  A  Treatise  m  the  Law  of  Mints  and 
Minerals,  1878,  and  .\rimael  Rogers,  Tlit  Law  relating  to  Miita, 
Minerals,  and  Qtiarries  in  Orcat  Britain  and  Ireland,  with  a  Sun- 
mary  (/  tlie  Lava  qf  Foreign  Statta,  1876. 


ACCIDENTS.] 


MINING 


467 


this  subject  have  been  ab-eady  given  (see  Coal,  vol.  vL  I  mines  prove  that  the  occupation  of  the  metal  mmer  is 
p.   79) ;   but  the  figures  below  relating  to  metalliferous  |  very  little  leas  dangerous. 

Hints  classed  under  the  Metalli/crous  ifina  Regulation,  Act  in  Oreai  Britain  and  Ireland. 


1 

Nnmber  of  DeoUu  from  Accidents. 

Death  .rate  from  .Occidents  per 
1000  persons  employed. 

Onder  Groond. 

Above 
Ground. 

General 
Total. 

Under  Gnmnd. 

Above  GnniAd. 

TotaU 

Falls  of 
Ground. 

In 
Shafts. 

Mlscel- 
laneocs. 

Total. 

Under 
Groaod. 

Above 
Gronnd. 

Under  Groond 

and 
Above  Groond. 

1874 
1875 
1878 
1877 
1873 
1879 
1880 
1881 
1883 

34,03« 
34,905 
34,109 
34.095 
80,624 
38,S65 
82,045 
33,291 
83,814 

22,325 
23,168 
23,388 
23,300 
20,834 
18,796 
20,863 
21,651 
21,692 

56,361 
68,073 
67,497 
57,395 
51.458 
47,060 
52,903 
64,942 
55,606 

40 
32 
25 
41 
27 
24 
81 
3S 
30 

34 
35 
16 
21 
19 
18 
21 
22 
27 

16 
33 
23 
24 
23 
16 
19 
32 
17 

89 
lOO 
64 
86 
69 
56 
71 
90 
74 

14 
19 

6 
11 

8 

8 
13 

9 
18 

103 
119 
70 
97 
77 
64 
84 
99 
93 

2-61 
2-86 
1-87 
3-52 
2-25 
1-98 
2-21 
2-70 
2  18 

0-62 
0S2 
0-26 
0-47 
0-38 
0-42 
062 
0-41 
083 

1-82 
205 
1  21 
1-69 
1-49 
1-36 
1-59 
ISO 
1-64 

Total  and  arenfres ) 
for  tho  nine  years  ) 

595,184 

196,016 

491,200 

286 

211 

203 

699 

108 

SOS 

2-87 

0-54 

1«3 

This  table '  shows  that  tho  average  accidental  mortality  of  the 
persons  employed  underground  in  metalliferous  mines  is  2*37  per 
1000.  During  the  ten  years  1873-1882  the  corresponding  mor- 
tality at  mines  under  the  Coal  illines  Act  was  2'57,  showing  a 
diiference  of  only  0"20  per  1000  in  favour  of  the  metal  miner  ;  and 
when  we  take  the  well-known  metalliferous  tlistrict  of  Cornwall 
and  Devon  we  find  a  death-rate  for  the  ten  years  mentioned  of 
2'63  per  1000,  which  therefore  exceeds  that  of  coal  mines. 

Reference  to  the  table  shows  that  more  than  one-third  of  the 
deaths  were  caused  by  falls  of  ground.  The  accual  percentages  of 
the  deaths  are  as  follows: — falls  of  gronnd  35  5,  in  shafts  26  2, 
miscellaneous  25"1,  on  surface  13*1.  The  accidents  in  shafts  are 
due  to  falls  from  ladders,  cages,  and  man-engines,  ropes  and  chains 
breaking,  overwinding,  and  other  causes,  whilst  the  miscellaneous 
accidents  include  numerous  fatalities  in  connexion  with  blasting 
operation!).  The  surface  accidents  aiB  mostly  caused  by  persons 
becoming  entangled  in  machinery,  and  there  have  been  several  fatal 
boiler  explosions. 

f  In  spite,  however,  of  all  the  dangers  to  which  miners  are  exposed, 
they  are  less  likely  to  be  the  victims  of  accident  than  railway  ser- 
vants, among  whom  the  rate  of  fatal  accidents  varies  from  2  "5  per 
1000  on  pjissenger  traffic  lines  to  3'5  per  1000  on  lines  possessuig 
a  heavy  ^oods  traffic' 

Statistics  concerning  accidents  in  mines  are  published  by  many 
foreign  countries;  the  most  minute  are  those  prepared  by  the 
Government  mining  engineers  in  Prussia.  The  average  annual 
death-rates  per  1000  persons  empljyed  below  ground  and  above 
ground  from  accidents  iii  mines  in  Prussia  during  the  fifteen  years 
1867  to  1881  have  been: — coal  mines  2952,  lignite  mines  2474, 
metal  mines  1-446,  other  mines  1-693,  all  the  mines  together2-476. 
In  making  any  comparison  betw-een  these  figures  and  those  we  have 
given  for  Great  Britain,  it  is  necessary  to  recollect  that  the  mines 
under  the  Coal  Slines  Act  include  some  workings  which  in  Pnissia 
would  be  classed  as  metalliferous,  and  that  British  mines  under 
the  Metalliferous  Act  include  underground  stone-quarries. 

Before  concluding  the  subject  of  accidents,  it  is  necessary  to 
point  out  that  successful  efforts  have  been  made  of  late  years  to 
mitigate  their  results.  In  the  first  place,  persons  equipped  with 
the  Fleuss  breathing  apparatus  can  now  enter  mines  after  explosions, 
in  SDite  of  the  noxious  and  irrespirable  gases,  and  save  lives  which 
wo'oid  otherwise  be  sacrificed.^  Secondly,  by  means  of  the  instruc- 
tion afforded  by  classes  established  by  the  St  John  Ambulance 
Association,  miners  are  learning  how  best  to  render  firat  aid  to  the 
injured  before  the  arrival  of  a  medical  man,  and  there  is  no  doubt 
that  many  valuable  lives  have  been  lost  in  times  past  for  want  of 
this  knowledge.  Thirdly,  a  vast  amount  of  good  has  been  done 
by  the  establishment  of  Miners'  Permanent  Relief  Societies  in 
iifferent  districts,  which  afford  aid  to  persons  disabled  by  accidents 
and  to  the  dependent  relatives  of  those  who  have  unfortunately 
lost  their  lives  by  any  mining  fatalitj-. 

16.    Useful  Minerals  produced  in  Various  Parts  of  the  Globe. 
Great  Britain  and  Ireland.— The  mineral  produce  of  the  United 
Kingdom  for  the  year  1881  is  summed  by  Mr  Robert  Hunt*  as 
follows : — 


'  From  Reports  of  n.M.  Inspectors  qf  Mines  for  the  year  1882, 
p.  xxxvi. 

'  The  Rate  of  Fatal  and  Non-Fatal  Accidents  in  and  about  Mines 
and  on  Railmiys,  loilh  the  Cost  of  Insurance  against  such  Accidents, 
by  Francis  G.  P.  Nei.ion,  London,  1880. 

'  Reports  of  H.  M.  Inspectors  of  Mines  for  the  year  1881 ,  Mr 
Bell's  Report,  p.  463. 

*  Mineral  Statistics  of  the  United  Kingdom  for  1881,  p.  Ix. , 


Coal. 


Zinc  ore 

Iron  pyrites 

Gold  ore 

surer  ore 

Cobalt  and  nickel  o 

Manganese 

Wolfram- 

Ochre  nnd  amber... 

Arsenic 

Fluor  spar,  Ac 


Clays... 
Salt.. 


Bar>-tes 

Sundry  minerals,  including ) 
coprolltes,  gypsmn,  calcspar,  > 
aholes,  &c. ) 


Quantities. 


Tons     cwts. 

154,184,300    0 

17,446,065    6 

12,898    3 

62,556    1 

64,703    6 

85,627    7 

43,616  14 

IJ 

6  19 

63  14 

3,884    0 


6,166    8 

872  14 

3,401,421    0 

3,398,220    0 


65,528,327  10  0 

6,201,068    6  6 

697,444    5  3 

■   190.057    8  7 


6,441  6  0 

544  1  B 

12,286  7  0 

46,070  7  S 

2.53  10  0 

1,200.210  0  0 

1,149.110  0  0 

23,894  3  10 

349,500  0  0 


The  totalvalue  of  minerals  produced  in  1881  was  £76,201,695,  Zs., 
exclusive  of  slate,  building-stone,  limestone,  and  other  stones  worked 
by  mines  and  quarries. 

The  quantity  of  coal  raised  in  1882  was  156,499,977  tons. 

The  metals  obtained  from  the  ores  produced  in  the  United 
Kingdom  in  1881  were — 


Gold 

Sliver,  from  ore 

Sliver,  from  lead..,, 
Pighon 


Zinc..'..'.'.'.."'.'.".'.".'.".'.'.'.'.'.'."'..'.'.' 
Other  metals,  estimated... 


Total  value  of  metals  produced  in  1881.. 


Quantities. 


8,875 
48,567 
14,947 


The  total  value  of  minerals  and  metals  obtained  from  the  mines 
and  other  mineral  workings  of  the  United  Kingdom  in  1881  was 


Minerals,  not  reduced— salt,  days,  Ac 2.817,652 


£90,860,487 
From  these  tables  it  is  evident  that  coal  and  iron  are  by  far  the 
most  important  mineral  productions  of  the  United  Kingdom,  as  94 
per  cent,  of  the  total  value  is  due  to  these  two  substances. 

France.  — The  mineral  productions  of  France'  for  the  year  1880  are 
set  forth  in  the  following  table: — 


Quantities. 

Values. 

Mineral  fuel 

Metric  Tons. 
19,362.000 
248,000 
144,000 
2,871,000 
133,000 
63.000 
S33.000 
367.000) 

Francs. 
21S.CS7.000 
2v-.5.S,0C0 
1.023.000 
H.9I».000 
2.114.000 

4.:m.ooo 

U.SH.OOO 
6,719.000 

Bay-salt _ 

23.514.000 

290,711,000 

*  Statistique  de  V Industrie  Mmirale  et  d^s  Appareils  d  Vapemr  < 
Prance  et  en  AlgSrie,  Annie  1380,  Paris,  1882,  p.  45. 


468 


M  3  N  T  N  G-. 


[mineral  riioD0CE  or 


Tho  quantities  of  metal  produced  in  France  from  native  and 
ionign  ores  in  1S80*  were — 

pffftron^ 1,725,000  metric  tons. '  I    "NickeL SO  metric  tons. 

Lead.             ....        6t500      „        ^           Gold 31  kilogruiumes 

Copper.L 3,400      „        „            Silver 40,400           „ 

jOncL 10,200      „         „       1    Alumiiiiura 1,150          „ 

Germany. — The  mining  industry  of  the  German  empire  is  of 


high  importance.  The  output  of  the  mines  in  1881  is  shown  hy 
the  following  table, — taken  from  the  Stat.  Jahrb.  fur  das  Deutsche 
Reich,  Berlin,  1883,  p.  27.  The  proiiuction  of  common  salt, 
potassium  chloride,  and  other  salts  from  brine  is  also  considerable. 
The  total  quantity  for  the  German  empire  in  1881  was  693,000 
metric  tone,  worth  33,507,000  marks,  including  113,200  tons  of 
potassium  chloride  valued  at  14,090,000  marks. 


Coal. 

Lignite. 

Rock- 
salt. 

Potash 

Salts. 

Iron  Ore. 

Zinc 
Ore. 

I-cad 
Ore. 

Copper 
Ore. 

Sil-.-cr 
and 
Gold 
Ore. 

Iron  PyrilC! 
and  otli.-i 
Vitriol  and 
Alum  Ores. 

Otticr 
Mining 
Products. 

Toral  Value 
ol  all  the 
Mining 
Products. 

Unit 
1000 
Sletl-ic 
Tons. 

Unit 
1000 
Jletric 
Tons. 

Unit 
1000 
lletric 
Tons. 

Unit 
1000 
Metric 
Tons. 

Unit 
1000 
Metric 
Tons. 

Unit 
1000 
Metric 
Tuns. 

Unit 
1000 
Metric 
Tons. 

Unit 
1000 
Metric 
Tons. 

Unit 
1000 
Metric 

Unit 
1000 
Jlclric 
Tons. 

Unit 
1000 
Mclric 
Tons. 

Unit 
1000 
.Marks. 

Prussia' 

43760-5 
619-8 
3707-3 

"9-4 

■"0-9 

108-9 
560-9 

10412-2 
13-1 
600-7 

'30-7 
12-3 
735-3 
273-7 
766-1 

"3-2 

207-8 
0-9 

84'2 
19-0 

645-4 
360-5 

3906-3 
75-6 
23-8 
193 

133-3 

28-4 
964 

32-3 
1096-0 

669-2 
'03 

169-7 
0-8 
1-! 

'0-9 
1-4 

'0-3 

623-6 

o-o> 

01 

0-1 
26-7 

1-12-0 
11 
0-1 
0-1 

'04 

2-4 

33-2 
15 
12 

b'-'o  » 
0-6 

1-4 

18-0 
2-1 

(i'o» 

9-7 

S2C,42-J 

5,124 

33,057 

752 

110 

1,115 

*S 

1,626 

1,678 

6,344 

""5 

170 

6,690 

Bavju-in 

Saxonv* 

Budcn 

Hesse 

Tlmriniria 

Brunswick 

Alaacc-Lorrftinc 

48C88-2 

12852-3 

311-9 

905-9 

6411-9 
2161-9 

C59-5 

1C4-3 

523-7 

26-S 

146-1        1      67-7 

384,000 
4,994 

Liuemburg -... 

Together 

48688-2 

12862-3 

311-9 

905-9 

7673-8 

659-5 

104-S 

623-7 

26-S 

HC-1 

67-7 

5S8,9W 

Austria-Hungary. — Among  the  famous  mines  of  the  Austria- 
feungarian  empire  may  he  mentioned  those  of  Hungary  and 
Transylvania  for  gold  and  silver  ;  Stj-i-ia  produces  much  of  the  iron ; 
qnicksUver  is  yielded  by  the  mines  of  Idria  in  Carniola,  lead  and 
silver  by  those  of  Przibi-am  in  Bohemia  ;  salt  is  obtained  in  the 
Austrian  Alps  and  in  Galicia,  which  also  produces  petroleum  and 
ozokerite. 

The  production  of  minerals  and  metals  in  Austria''  during  the 
year  1881  was  as  follows  : — 


Ooldc 
SlWcr  ore 
Xiuicksilvi 
Copper  01 


764  metric  tons— Metallic  gold 18-6 kilogrammes. 

2,383      „        „    —      „       silver 31,359  „ 

8,204     „       „    —     „      mercui-y„        398  metric  tons. 
—      „      copper 481      „        „ 


4,119 


618.903 

Lead  ore 13,542 

Zinc  ore 27.339 

Margancso  ore 9.109 

Oraphite ia379     „       „ 

'Petroleum 1,249     „       „ 

Lignite. 8.961,493     „       „ 

CoaI_ 6,343,315      „ 

Exclusive  of  salt,  the  value  of  the  produce  of  the  Austi-ian  mines 
fai  1881  was  44,693,692  florins.  The  total  output  of  salt  in  1881 
,was  267,279  metric  tons,  valued  according  to  tho  monopoly  prices 
at  23,000,493  florins. 

Hungary  in  1879'  produced 


Iron 118.321  metric  tons. 

Coal 674.003      .,        „ 

Lignite... 932.475      „ 

Iron  pyrites 66,292      „ 


Gold 1.593  kilogr.lr 

Silver 1S,C60  „ 

Copper 1.035  metric  tons. 

Lead 1,967      „  ,, 

Mcrcui-y 22      „         „ 

TJcJjiiim.— Belgium  is  rich  in  coal,  the  output  in  1881  being  no 
less  than  16,873,961  metric  tons,  valued  at  163,704,242  francs. 
Though  it  produces  iron  ores,  it  is  largely  dependent  upon  other 
countries,  and  especially  the  grand-duchy  of  Luxemburg,  for  supplies 
for  its  blast  furnaces.  The  principal  lead  mine  is  that  of  Bleiberg, 
p,ni  tho  calamine  deposits  iu  the  neutral  territory  of  Moresnct  have 
Jong  been  worked  with  success  by  the  celebrated  Vieille  Montagne 
Company,  which  also  ow-ns  zinc  mines  in  Belgium,  Germany, 
Sweden,  Sardinia,  and  Algeria. 

Russia. — In  a  vast  empire  like  Russia  it  is  not  surprising  that 
there  should  be  valuable  deposits  of  a  great  variety  of  minerals. 
lAinoug  tlie  most  important  are  the  auriferous  alluvia  of  the  Ural 
inoimUins  aud  Siberia,  which  in  1880  yielded  115,940  troy  lb  of 
gold,  worth  more  than  5  millions  sterling.  Platinum  is  found  associ- 
ated with  the  gold-bearing  sands  of  the  Urals  ;  the  outiiut  in  18S0 
»vas  7895  troy  lb.     Zinc  ore  is  largely  worked  in  Poland.     Iniport- 


n  France  et  en 

'"bcUUcd'statlstlcs  concerning' tlie  mineral  priidncc  of  Prussia  ape  given  ever>- 
.ycnr  In  the  Zetlscltri/I /Hr  ial  Bern-,  Uutten-.  unit  Salinm-  IITioi  im  J'rauiia.lieil 
Staalc  (Devlin). 

a  Quantity  less  than  60  tons. 

*  Detailed  Btittlslics  of  tho  mineral  produce  of  Saxony  are  given  ycanv  In  the 
Uoftrft/if/i  fiir  dtit  Berg-  und  tliiltenveun^im  RUttlireiehc  5rtf/r*(-M(Frclbcrg). 

6  SMI.  .lahrb.  da  t.  i.  Aderbau- JtiniiUrlumi  /ur  1681,  licit  111.,  Lle(.  1, 
'Vienna.  1RS2. 

8  "  Dcr  Bergwcrksbctrieb  Ungams  Im  Jahrc  1879,"  Oesterreiehitetie  ZcitKhri/t 
JUr  Bern-  und  Uiidemiam,  1881,  p.  J71. 


ant  su]tplies  of  chi-omic  ij-on  ore  are  derived  from  the  Urals,  amount- 
ing iu  1880  to  more  than  8000  tons.  The  metallic  copper  produced 
in  1880  was  .about  3100  tons,  and  the  oil  wells  of  Baku  yielded  iu 
that  year  346,000  tons  of  petroleum.  Kussia  also  possesses  mines 
of  ii'on  ore,  mariganese,  lead,  silver,  coal,  and  lignite.  A  little  tin 
ore  is  furnished  by  Finland.  ; 

Italy. — The  most  important  mineral  iu  Italy^  is  sulphur,  359,540 
tons  (metric),  worth  36,448,453  lu-e,  having  been  obtained  in  1880, 
and  mainly  from  seams  containing  the  native  element  in  the 
Miocene  rocks  of  Sicily  and  Romagiia.  ^ 

The  celebrated  iron  mines  of  the  island  of  Elba  have  been  worked 
from  very  early  times,  and  furnish  a  valuable  ore  ;  and  the  deposits 
of  calamine,  lead  ore,  and  silver  ore  in  Sardinia  form  no  small  pro- 
portion of  the  mineral  wealth  of  the  Italian  kingdom.  The  g.i' J 
mines  in  and  near  the  Val  An7asca  (Piedmout)  aie  producing  nioiij 
than  7000  ounces  of  metal  yearly.  -     ' 

Spain.— S^MU  is  justly  celebrated  for  its  miner,il  wealth.  It- 
produces  more  cupieous  pyrites  than  any  other  country  in  the  world, 
and  very  large  amounts  of  lead  ore  and  quicksilver;  and  its  iron  ores' 
are  abundant  and  of  excellent  quality.  The  principal  lead  mines 
are  in  the  provinces  of  Jaen  (Andalusia)  and  Slurcia,  and  tho  total! 
amount  of  metallic  lead  produced  in  Spain  or  from  Spanish  ores  i» 
estimated  to  be  120,000  tons  yearly. 

Cinnabar,  the  heavy  red  ore  of  mercury,  naturally  attracted  atten- 
tion at  a  very  early  date,  and  the  w-orld-renow-ned  Almaden  mine 
has  been  w-orked  from  time  immemorial.  The  output  in  1880  w,as. 
13S7i  tons  (metric)  of  quicksilver.' 

Tlie  cupreous  pyrites,  often  known  as  sulphur  ore,  is  obtained 
from  the  province  of  Huelva,  where  vast  deposits  occur  over  a  belt  of 
country  nearly  100  miles  long  by  20  miles  wide.  The  Rio  Tinto 
mines  are  the  largest  in  the  district,  and  are  worked  on  a  gigantic 
scale.  Tho  company  employs  upwards  of  10,000  hands,  or  raoix- 
persons  than  are  engaged  in  oil  the  Cleveland  iron  mines,  and  the 
output  is  upwards  of  a  million  tons  per  annum.  About  one-quarter 
of  this,  containing  3}  per  cent,  of  copper,  is  exported,  mainly  for  the 
manufacture  of  sulphuric  acid  and  subsequent  treatment  for  copper 
aud  silver,  whilst  the  remaining  thi-cc-quartei^,w-ith  2  J  to  2i  per  cent, 
of  copper,  are  treated  on  the  spot.  The  oiv  contains  i-athcr  less  than 
1  oz.  of  silver  to  the  ton,  aud  a  few-  gi-.-iins  of  gold.  These  arc  profitably 
cxti-nctcd  from  the  bunit  01-c  by  Claiulet's  process,  and  some  idea  of 
tlie  iinpoi-tance  of  the  copper  and  silver  will  be  pained  by  reference 
to  the  following  figures."  During  the  year  IS.Sl  tlicre  were  obtained 
from  cupreous  pjTitcs  imported  into  the  United  Kingdom  in  1681, 
mainly  from  Spain  and  Portugal,  14,000  tons  of  copper,  258,463  oz. 
of  silver,  and  1490  02.  of  gohl.  The  total  value  of  tho  silver  and 
gold  was  £64,195.  •       .  -  --• 

The  total  outputof  iron  ore  in  1880  was  3, .565,338  metric  tons," 
more  than  two-thirds,  viz..  2.683,027  tons,  being  obtained  fi-om  the 
celebrated  mines  near  Bilbao  in  the  province  of  Biscay.  Enghm  Ij 
France,  Belgium,  aud  Germany  are  all  glad  to  draw  supplies  of 

7  Koliilr  ilalltllelie  inlla  rnduilrta  Jtinernria  in  Jlalia  dot  ISOO  0/  ISSO.  I:oni». 
19S;,  p.  400. 

s  Ettadiiltea  ilinera  d*  Etpa^a,  corrtspondtaitt  at  ana  dt  1860,  iTatlrid,  li9X 
p.  37. 

»  Hnnt.  Ulnernl  Slalllltei,  Ac,  p.  15. 
1'  Sttadiitica  i/fncra,  &c.,  til  itipra,  p.  15. 


HVyKnEST   COUNTniES.j 

excellent  red  and  brown  hematite  from  the  Bilbao  mines.  JIurcia 
com<;s  next  in  importance  to  Biscay,  vith  a  production  of  539, 32S 
tons, 

Portugal. — The  great  mineral  belt  of  Huelva  extends  into  Portngal, 
and  deposits  of  cupreous  pyrites  almost  identical  witli  that  of 
Fio  Tinto  have  been  wrought  from  very  early  ages.  The  principal 
mine,  Sau  Domingos,  is  close  to  the  Spanish  frontier.  It  is  estimated 
Chat  the  worldngs  liad  yielded  up  to  the  year  1877  no  less  than 
3,678,7'i5  English  tons  of  cupreous  pyrites,  by  far  the  greater  part 
of  this  bavin*;  been  extracted  in  recent  times.  The  quantity  of  ore 
raised  from  tnc  mine  in  1882  was  405,029  tons. 

Portugal  possesses  notable  mar.ganese  mines,  but  produces  com- 
paratively su;all  quantities  of  iron,  lead,  and  copper. 

Koricay. — The  mines  at  Kongsberg  are  famous  for  the  large 
quantities  of  native  silver  they  produce,  and  enormous  masses  are 
Bometimes  mot  with.  The  annual  output  is  from  10,000  to  12,000 
troy  ounces.  Copper  ore  and  cupreous  pyrites  are  also  mined  in 
Norway,  and  there  are  important  workings  for  nickel  and  cobalt 
md  for  apatite.  Alluvial  graveb  have  been  washed  for  gold  in 
Norwegian  Finland. 

Sweden. — The  most  important  mineral  obtained  in  Sweden  is 
iron  ore,  much  being  in  the  form  of  magnetite  ;  red  hffimatite  also 
is  mined,  and  brown  haematite  is  dredged  up  from  some  of  the  lakes. 
The  principal  iron-producing  districts  are  those  of  Norberg,  Danne- 
mora,  Nora,  and  Ferseberg.     The  output  of  the  Swedish  mines  in 

1880  was—  i" 

Iron  ore 775,50.5  tons.  I    Zinc  ore 43,452  tons. 

Lead  ore 12,988    .,      I    Copper  ore 29,380    „ 

Grecee. — One  of  the  most  interesting  undertakings  of  modem 
times  has  been  the  re-working  of  the  Laurium  mines,  which  are 
situated  in  the  southern  extremity  of  Attica ;  and  an  account  of  them 
written  by  Cordelia  furnishes  many  curious  details  concerning  the 
metbodsof  mining,  washing,  and  smelting  employed  by  the  ancients. 
The  workings  for  lead  and  silver  appear  to  have  been  carried  on 
with  the  greatest  vigour  between  600  B.C.  and  the  Pcloponnesian 
War,  and  were  finally  abandoned  in  the  1st  century  of  fhe  Christian 
era.  Huge  piles  of  slag  which  had  accumulated  from  the  old 
smeltiag  works  were  found  to  be  well  worth  b''ng  re-worked  for 
silver  and  lead,  and  operations  were  commenced  in  1864.  Five 
yeare  later  the  old  heaps  of  mine  refuse  began  to  be  treated,  and  at 
last  in  1375  a  French  company  resumed  working  the  mine.  A 
Greek  company  employing  some  3000  persons  is  now  producing 
annually  from  the  old  mine  heaps  no  less  than  8000  to  9000  tons 
of  pig  lead,  yielding  45  oz.  of  silver  to  the  ton,  whilst  the  mines  of 
the  Cvimpagixic  fra-iuiaise  des  imnts  du  Laitrinm  made  an  output  in 

1881  of  ?C,664  tons  (metric)  of  roasted  calamine,  with  40  to  60  per 
cent,  of  zinc,  in  addition  to  lead  ore  and  mixed  ores.  Cordelia  cal- 
culates that  during  the  three  hundred  years  the  Laurium  mines  were 
worked  by  the  ancients  the  total  amount  of  lead  produced  was 
2,100,000  tons,  with  22i  million  troy  lb  of  silver.  Besides  this  the 
ancients  left  behind  two  million  tons  of  lead  slags  containing  on  an 
average  1067  per  cent,  of  lead,  109  million  tons  of  mine  refuse 
mth  1 J  to  18  per  cent,  of  lead,  and  excavations  to  the  extent  of  51 
million  cubic  yards  with  lead  ore  still  in  sight  They  did  not 
touch  the  calamine  deposits.*  Next  in  importance  to  lead,  silver, 
and  zinc  conies  bay-^lt,  and  after  that  emery.  The  island  of 
Naxos  furnished  3300  metric  tons  of  emery  in  1877,  valued  at 
f28,000. 

i  Africa, — Algeria  is  rich  in  Iron,  and  three-fourths  of  the  value 
of  its  total  mineral  output  are  due  to  ores  of  this  metal.  In 
1880  the  iron  mines  produced  614,000  metric  tons  of  ore,  Mokta- 
el-badid  mine,  near  Bona,  alone  yielding  about  300,000  tons. 
Algeria  also  possesses  mines  of  copper,  lead,  zinc,  and  antimony. 

The  name  "  Gold  Coast  "  applied  to  part  of  the  shores  of  Africa, 
denotes  its  productiveness  of  the  precious  metal,  and  it  is  prohnble 
that  very  important  supplies  of  gold  will  one  day  be  derived  from 
various  districts  of  the  Dark  Continent. 

Cape  Colony  possesses  rich  copper  mines  in  the  Naraaqualand 
division,  which  in  1882  produced  ore  and  metal  worth  £331,546; 
however,  the  most  valuable  and  remarkable  mineral  deposits  of 
Africa  at  the  present  time  are  the  diamond  mines.  The  first 
diamonds  were  obt.incd  from  recent  gravel  in  the  bed  of  the  Vaal 
river,  and  it  was  afterwards  discovered  that  the  precious  stones 
could  be  obtained  from  the  so-called  dry  diggings.  The  most  im- 
portant of  these,  the  Colesberg  Kopje,  now  known  as  the  Kimberley 
mine,  prod-iced  in  1881  diamonds  weighing  900,000  carats,  worth 
£1,575,000.  Three  other  neighbouring  mines  are  Old  De  Beer's, 
which  yielded  300,000  carats  in  1881,  worth  £600,000,  Du  Toit's 
Pan,  and  Bulfontein.  The  value  of  the  diamonds  raised  in  South 
Africa  since  1870  amounts  to  forty  millions  sterling  ;-  indeed  the 
Kimberley  mine  alone  was  estimated  in  1877  to  have  already  pro- 
duced ten  million  pounds  worth  of  diamonds,  extracted  from  4 
million  tons  of  diamantiferous  rock. 


MINING 


4e£i 


1  A,  Cordelia.  "  MincraloEisch-eaolociBChe  Reiscskizzeo  aus   Griechcnland," 
htrg-  und  hOltenma'tiii'f^e  Ztttung,  vol.  xli!.,  1883,  p.  21. 
'  A.  J.  Mac'laiial'l.  "The  Value  of  the  Cape  as  a  Dependency  of  Great  Britain." 


.<4^.— For  many  centuries  India  was  regarded  aa  poflsesaiog 
fabulous  mineral  wealth,  and  a  strong  basis  for  this  idea  may  be 
found  in  the  existence  of  traces  of  mining  on  a  very  extensive  scal^ 
No  doubt  in  early  days  India  did  supply  what  then  appeared  to  b* 
very  large  quantities  of  metals,  and  a  country  that  produces  gold 
and  precious  stones  is  apt  to  be  endowed  by  the  popular  mind  with 
boundless  riches.  The  actual  amounts  of  mineral  raised  in  India 
at  the  present  day  are  comparatively  small.  Cold  exists  over  con- 
siderable areas,  but  it  remains  to  be  proved  that  the  gold  minee  of 
the  Wynaad  and  Mysore  can  be  proijtably  worked  by  British  com- 
panies. Diamonds  occur  and  are  worked  in  alluvial  diggings 
and  in  a  conglomerate  belonging  to  the  Vindhyan  formation. 
Sapphires  and  rubies  are  obtained  from  Upper  Burmah.  Ceylon* 
produced  in  18S0  no  less  than  10,286  tons  of  graphite  or  plumbago, 
valued  at  £192,879.  Petroleum  is  abundant  in  Upper  Burmah,  and 
oil  from  wells  has  been  utilized  for  upwards  of  twenty  centuries. 
The  total  output  in  1873  was  estimated  to  be  about  10,000  tons 
yearly.  Tin  ore  occurs  and  is  worked  in  Tenasserira.  Passing  into 
Siam  and  the  Malay  Peninsula  we  find  deposits  of  alluvial  tin  ore, 
producing  what  is  known  in  commeree  as  Straits  tin.  A  littla  to 
the  east  are  the  islands  of  Banca  and  Billitou,  which  for  many  years 
have  been  a  source  of  wealth  to  the  Dutch  Government.  The  sales 
of  Banca  tin  in  1881  amounted  to  4339  tons,  and  those  of  Billiton  tin 
to  4735  tons,  whilst  11,475  tons  of  Straits  tin  were  exported  from 
Penang  and  Singapore.^  Stanniferous  alluvia  are  also  worked  iu 
Karimon,  Singkep,  and  Sumatra,  whilst  the  latter  island  possesses 
also  valuable  seams  of  coal. 

Borneo  furnishes  coal,  antimony  ore,  and  soma  cinnabar;  aai 
river-graveb  are  washed  for  diamonds,  gold,  and  platinum. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  the  mineral  wealth  of  China  is  enormoua. 
In  addition  to  important  coal-fields  it  possesses  numerous  metallio 
mines.  The  province  of  Yunnan  in  the  south  of  the  empire  seems 
to  be  specially  favoured  with  regard  to  metalliferous  wealth,  f« 
mines  of  gold,  silver,  copper,  lead,  tin,  and  iron  are  worked  there, 
whilst  jade  and  precious  stones  are  found  in  the  beds  of  rivers. 

Japan  produces  more  than  3000  tons  of  copper  yearly,  or  about  aa 
much  as  the  British  Isles.  The  output  of  lead  and  tin  is  insignifi- 
cant, but  the  quantity  of  silver,  exceeding  300,000  oz.  yearly,  is 
worthy  of  notice.  Gold,  iron,  and  petroleum  are  other  products  of 
Japan.  >y' 

The  gold  of  Siberia  has  been  mentioned  in  speaking  of  Russia.    * 

Canada. — The  Dominion  of  Canada  is  rich  in  minerals.  Gold- 
bearing  quartz  veins  are  worked  in  Nova  Scotia,  whilst  in  British 
Columbia  alluvial  deposits  are  the  main  source  of  the  supply. 
Silver  occurs  on  Lake  Superior,  the  most  important  mine  being  that 
of  Silver  Islet,  which  from  1869  to  the  spring  of  1877  yielded  2i 
million  ounces  of  silver,  and  gave  a  profit  of  £200,000. 

Rocks  resembling  the  copper-bearing  strata  of  the  United  States 
territory  are  mined  in  Slichipoten  island  in  Lake  Superior.  Iron 
ores,  in  the  form  of  magnetite,  red  hematite,  limouite,  and  ilmeaite, 
arc  worked  in  various  parts  of  Canada. 

Petroleum  is  derived  from  oil  wells  iu  Western  Ontario,  and  th# 
quantity  refined  in  1875  was  about  210,000  bairels,  each  of  40 
gallons.  It  is  in  Ontario  also  that  the  veins  of  apatite  exist  from 
which  a  large  amount  of  that  useful  mineral  has  been  raised. 

UniUd  Stales.— The  mineral  wealth  of  the  United  States  is 
admirably  summed  up  by  Mr  Kichan'  P.  Rothwell  in  his  addres* 
to  the  Americau  Institute  of  Mining  Engineers.' 

"Production  of  Coal,  Metal,  and  Petroleum  in  1881.* 

Anthmcite 30.261,940  tons  (of  2240  ll>). 

Bituminous  coal 42.417,764    „    (of  2000  lb). 

Pig  iron 4,144.000    „    (of  2240  a,). 

Lead 105,000    „ 

Copper 1 81.000    ..  „ 

Quicksilver 59,000  flasks  (of  761  !!>■  a^o^ 

Gold 831.870.000  (=I,541,7'I  oi.). 

Silver. 845.078.000  (=34.865.900  oz.). 

Petroleum 27,204.000  barrels  (of  42  gullonfi). 

"  Tlie  statistics  of  other  nsefnl  minerals  and  mclals  show  an  equally  marTeJteas 
advance  during  the  past  thirty  years.  The  production  of  pic  iron,  which  in  ISSt 
was  541,000  net  tons,  in  1361  was  653,000  tons,  and  In  1S71  was  1,70S.OOO  tcjis. 
Ten  years  later,  in  1881,  we  produced  no  less  than  4,141.000  tons,  on  increajo  la 
thirty  yeara  of  nearly  800  per  cent. 

"  Lead,  which  appears  at  14.400  tons  in  1852,  varied  but  little  from  that  fignpe 
until  the  construction  of  railroads  into  the  arcentifcrous  lead-mining  districts  of 
the  west  about  1870.  Eurel<a,  Nevada,  Utah,  and  moi-c  recently  Colorado,  witjl 
its  Leadvillo  bonanzas,  rapidly  raised  the  production  from  18,000  tons  in  1871 1* 
47,000  tons  inl8;3,  75,000  tons  in  1877,  and  los.ooe  tons  In  1881. 

••Our  production  of  copper  steadily  increased  rom  1000  'ons  in  1852  to  31,000 
tons  in  1881,— the  enormous  output  of  that  unr  .-ailed  mine  Calumet  and  HecU 
steadying  the  production  and  neutralizing  the  6:  tu.-itions  of  the  lesser  mines. 

"  Quicksilver  has  shown  wide  fluctuations,  du  - 
to  the  condition  of  the  i 


3  Slalisllcal  AbUracl/or  Ihe  Several  Colmia!  and  other  Poueitiim  of  lie  UnlUd 
Kingdom  in  each  pear  from  1860  to  18S0,  London,  1SS2,  p.  59. 
*  Hunt.  Uirt.  Slat,  for  1881.  p.  9. 

5  Engineering  and  Mininy  journal,  vol.  xxxlv.  p.  174. 

6  The  total  produrtioa  of  coal  in  tiie  United  Slates  in  1SS2  araovmed  M 
86,562.614  tons  of  2240  lb  iCoUiery  Guardian  for  16S3.  p.  7S1).  The  ijuantiUea  of 
metals  produced  in  1882  are  estimated  to  be— pig  iron  4,623,323  crost  Uv*^ 
2240  tb  each,  lead  123,000  gross  tons,  copper  40.000  gross  tons  (r/« /ran,  JM«,«»* 
Alhti  Trada  in  1882,  p.  IS3 ;  £«■}.  and  Mm.  Jour.,  vol.  xsxv.  p.  HX 


470 


MINING 


[3XINBKAL  PBODUCB  Gl 


|»Ute  IV. 


bnt  it  went  C9  low  ar  10.000  flaplcft  In  IPSO,  and  roso  to  6S.0W  flfwks  five  ycaro 
Iftter;  from  tlili  It  decUned  to  16,000  fiutu  1q  187A.  thoQgh  in  the  foUo^^log  >ciir 
U  grew  to  76.000  flaaks.    Last  year  we  produced  69,000  flasks. 

•'  Gold  l3  the  only  metal  tn  which  cor  production  Ijas  been  dccllninR.  In  1S52 
It  amounted  la  gtiO.OOO.OOO ;  bat,  vrltli  some  flactuatloas,  it  liaa  now  declined  to 
leas  than  532.000,000  unnually. 

*'Tho  production  oi  silver,  on  tbe  contrary,  liua  lorccly  incrwwed.  Commenc- 
ing in  1859  with  8100.000,  it  ha3  now  attained  S-15,000,000.  In  1S77  only  were 
these  flgiires  esceeded,  and  then  only  by  about  $1,000,000. 

"Tho  production  of  petroleumf  that  creat  American  Industry,  has  grown  wKb 
wonderful  rapidity.  In  1859  it  commenced  with  only  3U00  bairels,  and,  a/ter  an 
almost  uniform  Increase,  it  attained  last  year  the  cnonnous  figures  of  '27,000,000 


exhaustion." 

Some  valuable  statistics  concerning  the  production  of  tbe  pi 
metals  in  the  United  States  are  contained  in  a  report  issued  by  the 
Census  Bureau.*  The  output  for  the  year  ended  31st  May  1880  is 
£ummed  np  qs  follows  :- 


Gold. 

SUvcr. 

Total. 

Oance8. 

Value. 

Ounces. 

Value. 

Value. 

Deep  mines.... 

1,033.974 
580,767 

$21,374,152 
12,005,511 

31,717,297 
80,177 

841,007,296 
103,661 

£62.331,446 
12,109,172 

AH  mlDC& 

1.614,7-11 

33.379,663 

31,797,4W 

41.110,957 

74,490,620 

The  State  producing  the  gi-eatest  value  is  Colorado,  viz., 
$19,249,172,  or  gold  130,607  02.  and  silver  12,800,119  oz.  ;  Cali- 
fornia comes  next,  having  produced  $18,301,828  of  bullion,  and  then 
Nevada,  with  $17,318,909  of  bullion. 

The  greatest  gold  jiroducer  among  the  States  and  Territories  is 
California,  with  829,676  oz.  of  gold,  half  from  deep  mines  and  half 
from  placers.  Next  follows  Nevada,  with  236,468  oz.  of  gold,  of 
iWliich  only  about  1  per  cent,  came  from  placer  mines  ;  then  Dakota, 
159,920  oz.  of  gold,  nearly  entirely  produced  by  deep  mines  ;  and  in 
the  fourth  rank  Colorado,  130,607  oz.,  with  a  olacer  production  of 
Jess  than  5000  oz. 

The  greatest  silver  producer  is  Colorado,  with  12,800,119  oz. ; 
*hen  Nevada,  9,614,561  oz.;  then  Utah,  3,668,365  oz.;  Montana, 
2,246,933  oz.  ;  and  fifthly  Arizona,  1,798,920  oz. 

It  is  useless  within  the  limits  of  this  article  to  attempt  to  convey 
an  adequate  idea  of  the  enormous  mineral  resources  of  the  United 
States.  We  can  merely  very  briefly  allud-o  to  some  of  the  principal 
deposits,  which  are  of  coniniercial  value  on  account  of  their  magni- 
tude, of  scientific  interest  owing  to  their  mode  of  occurrence,  and  of 
itechnical  importance  as  having  led  to  the  introduction  of  consider- 
able improvements  in  the  arts  of  mining,  milling,  and  dressing. 

Among  these  may  be  mentioned  the  coal  and  anthracite  mines 
and  oil  wells  of  Pennsylvania,  the  gold  and  quicksilver  mines  of 
California,  the  silver  mines  of  Nevada,  the  lead  and  silver  mines 
of  Colorado,  and  the  copper  mines  of  Lake  Superior.  The  articles 
Coal  (vol.  vi.  p.  60)  and  Gold  (v.ol.  x.  p.  743)  may  be  referred  to 
for  information  concerning  the  occurrence  of  these  minerals  and 
the  method  of  extracting  gold  by  hydraulic  mining  and  improved 
stamping  machinery. 

Quicksilver  in  the  form  of  native  mercury  and  cinnabar  occurs  in 
considerable  abundance  in  CaliEomia,  and  much  of  it  is  found  in 
coniexion  with  serpentine,  either  in  the  serpentine  itself  or  in  sand- 
stone near  its  junction  with  serpentine.  The  most  important  mines 
ere  those  of  New  Almaden  in  the  southern  part  of  the  State  near 
San  Jose.  The  deposit  at  Sulphur  Bank  in  Lake  County  is  of  much 
geological  interest.  It  consists  of  native  sulphur,  gypsimi,  and 
cinnabar  In  a  decomposed  andesitic  lava  close  to  an  extinct  geyser 
from  which  boiling  water  still  issues.  Tlie  top  of  the  bank  was 
worked  open-cast  for  sulphur,  and"  then  for  sulphur  and  cinnabar, 
and  now  underground  mining  is  carried  on  in  stratified  sandstone 
and  shale  impregnated  with  cinnabar  and  underlying  the  lava. 

Some  of  the  most  marvellous  silver  mines  in  the  world  are  those 
upon  the  Comstock  lode  in  Nevada.  A  horizontal  section  of  pai-t 
of  this  great  vein  is  shown  on  Plate  IV.,  copied  from  the  excellent 
and  wetl-known  report  of  Jlr  J.  D.  Hague,*  The  strike  is  nearly 
north  and  south,  and  the  dip  about  43°  to  the  east.  "The  vein 
matter  of  the  Conisto-ik  consists  of  cmshed  and  decomposed 
country  rock,  clay,  and  quartz."  "Up  to  January  1,  1880,  the 
Comstock  had  yielded  in  twenty  years  about  §325,000,000  worth 
of  bullion.  The  total  length  of  shafts  and  galleries  is  about 
250  miles.  The  number  of  men  employed  in  the  mines  in  January 
!l880  was  2800,  earning  average  wages  of  $4  a  day.  At  the  .same 
Idate  340  men  were  at  work  in  the  amalgamating  mills." ^  The 
'heat  of  the  Comstock  lode  is  remarkable.  On  the  2700  feet  level 
of  the  Yellow  Jacket  mine  Mr  Becker  found  the  temperature  of  the 
iwater  to  be  153",  that  of  the  air  126" ;  whilst  the  water  in  the  Yellow 
Jacket  shaft  at  adi-pth  of  3065  feet  has  a  temperature  of  170"  Fahr.* 


'  aarcnco  King,  Bpecial  agent  of  the  Ccnfius,  Slatisties  0/ the  Production  0/ the 
JYecious  Mctalt  in  the  Vnittd  Slatei,  WaslilnRton.  18S1,  p.  69. 
,    «  United  States  Geological  Exploration  0/ the  Fortieth  ParalM,  vol.  UL,  Mining 
Induatiy,  Atlns.  plate  11. 

8  Clarenco  King,  Firit  Annual  Report  ofth*  U.S.  Qceicgiial  Survty,  v.  3J. 

^(^CU^  pp.  44,  45. 


During  the  last  few  years  the  Comstock  lode  ha?  been  falling  off 
in  productivencES.  Ln  1876  tlie  total  yield  of  the  Comstock  lode 
was  §38,572,984  (gold,  $18,002,906;  silver,  520,570,076).  During 
the  census  year  ending  May  31,  1380,  the  product  of  the  whole 
Comstock  district,  including  outlying  veins,  was  $6,922,330  (gold, 
§3,109,156;  silver,  $3,813,174),  showing  a  decline  of  $31,650,654, 
or  82-06  per  cent.,  since  1876.^ 

Though  the  extraction  of  silver  from  its  ores  may  bo  regarded 
as  Iho  business  of  the  metallurgist  rather  than  of  the  miner,  we 
must  not  forget  to  mention  that  it  is  to  the  necessities  of  the  treat- 
ment of  the  Nevada  ores  that  we  owe  the  system  of  pan  amalgama- 
tion first  developed  in  that  State  and  practised  since  in  Colorado. 

Another  district  in  Nevada  which  cannot  be  passed  over  in 
silence  is  that  which  contains  the  Eureka  and  Richmond  mines,  which 
are  celebrated,  not  only  for  the  silver  they  have  produced,  but  also 
for  the  important  trial  in  which  the  issue  hinged  upon  the  defini- 
tion of  the  term  vein  or  lode  (p.  441).  The  bullion  produced  in  the 
Eureka  district  from  ore  raised  and  treated  during  the  census  year 
ended  May  31,  1880,  was— gold,  62,893  oz.;  and  silver,  2,037.666 
oz. ;  worth  altogether  $3,934,621.^ 

The  history  of  Leadville  in  Colorado  seems  like  a  romance  when 
we  read  of  the  rapid  development  of  the  mines,  the  creation  of  a 
large  and  important  town,  the  erection  of  smelting  works  and  the 
building  of  railways,  under  very  adverse  conditions,  in  the  heart  of 
the  Rocky  Mountains,  all  within  the  space  of  four  or  five  years.  It 
affords  additional  proof  that  the  miner  is  the  true  pioneer  ol 
civilization.  The  main  facts  concerning  the  Leadville  deposits  ai-o 
admirably  summed  up  by  Mr  S.  F.  Emmons,  from  whose  report" 
we  borrow,  not  only  the  following  facts,  but  also  the  geological 
section  across  the  district  (Plate  IV.). 

The  principal  deposits  of  the  region  are  found  at  or  near  the 
junction  of  the  porphyry  with  the  Blue  limestone,  which  is  the 
lowest  member  of  the  Carboniferous  fonnation.  This  bed  is  about 
150  or  200  feet  thick,  and  consists  of  dark  blue  dolomitic  limestone. 
At  the  top  there  are  concretions  of  black  chert.  The  porphyry 
occurs  in  mtrusive  sheets  which  generally  follow  the  bedding,  and 
almost  invariably  a  white  porphyry  is  found  overlying  the  Blue 
limestone.  This  porphyry  is  of  Secondary  age  ;  it  is  a  white  homo- 
geneous-looking rock,  composed  of  quarlz  and  felspar  of  even 
granular  texture,  in  which  the  porphyritic  ingredients,  which  are 
accidental  rather  than  essential,  are  small  rectangular  crystals  of 
white  felspar,  occasional  double  pyramids  of  quartz,  and  fresh  hexa- 
gonal plates  of  biotite  or  black  mica.  Along  the  plane  of  contnct 
with  the  porphyry  the  limestone  has  been  transformed,  by  a  process 
of  gradual  replacement,  into  a  vein  consisting  of  argentiferous 
galena,  cerussite,  and  cerargyrite  mixed  with  the  hydrons  oxides  of 
iron  and  manganese,  chert,  granular  cavernous  quartz,  clay,  heavy 
spar,  and  "Chinese  talc,"  a  silicate  and  sulphate  of  alumina.  Tbe 
vein  seems  to  have  been  formed  by  aqueous  solutions,  which  took 
up  their  contents  from  the  neighbouring  eruptive  rocks  and  brought 
about  tlie  alteration  of  the  limestone  as  they  percolated  downwards 
through  it.  In  Carbonate  Hill,  a  gradual  passage  may  be  observed 
from  dolomite  into  earthy  oxides  of  iron  and  manganese.  The  inasscs 
of  workable  ore  are  extremely  iiTegular  in  shape,  size,  and  distribu- 
tion. They  are  often  30  to  40  feet  thick  vertically,  and  occ^isionally 
80  feet,  but  only  over  a  small  area.  The  ricli  ore  bodies  are  common- 
est in  the  upper  part  of  the  ore-bearin»  stratum.  At  Fryer  Hill 
the  Blue  limestone  is  almost  entirely  replaced  by  vein  material. 

In  the  census  year  ended  May  31,  1880,  Lake  County,  Colorado, 
which  includes  the  Leadville  district,  produced  28,226 gross  tons  of 
lead,  with  3830  oz.  of  gold  and  8,853,946  oz,  of  silver,  of  a  total 
value  of  $13,032,464.8 

The  most  important  copper  mines  of  the  United  States  are  those 
on  Lake  Superior,  where  the  native  metal  occurs  "in  veins,  in  large 
masses,  or  scattered  more  or  less  uniformly  in  certain  beds  which 
are  either  amygdaloid  or  conglomerates.""  The  principal  copper- 
producing  districts  are  in  Michigan,  where  the  Portage  Lake  dis- 
trict, in  Houghton  county,  contams  the  famous  Calumet  and  Hecla 
mine,  whicli  alone  protluced  15,837  tons  of  copper  in  1880,  or  about 
Italf  the  entire  output  of  the  United  States.  The  deposit  from 
whence  this  vast  amount  of  copper  was  obtained  is  a  bed  of  con- 
glomerate, generally  called  a  vein,  dipping  about  38*^  north-west 
It  has  been  worked  for  a  depth  of  2250  fe*t  on  the  incline.  lu 
]S75  the  stuff  stamped  yielded  4^  i>er  cent,  nf  copper. 

In  conclusion,  we  will  point  out  that  the  value  of  the  mining 
inlustry  in  the  United  States  exceeds  that  of  any  other  country  in 
the  world,  Mr  Porter  estimating  it  for  1879-1880  at  360  million 
dollars,  and  that  of  Great  Britain  at  325  millions.'**    Germany  holds 


»  Clarence  Kinr,  Statistics  of  the  Produttion  of  the  Precious  Melali  in  tht 

United  States,  Washington,  18S1,  p.  19. 

»  Ahifraet  of  a  Report  vpon  the  OeoJcgy  and  Mining  Indvttry  0/  Liadttil}, 
Colorado,  Washlncton.  18S2. 

8  Clorcnco  King,  op.  eit..  p.  47.  - 

9  Charles  E.  Wilght,  commissioner,  Annual  Report  Of  the.   Commissioner  ^ 
if tnerat  Stalisties  forihe  State  of  Michigan  for  \SSO,  Lenslng.  Michlgau,  I8»l, 

"  Robcit  V.  Porter,  The  Wat  from  the  Census  of  1880.  Chicago  and  Loodoo, 
1882,  p.  19. 


©ITFEEENT  COCmTRlES.]  M    i    ^     i    JN  AT 

tho  third  rank,  followed  by  France  and  RnssiaT  Tffc  United  States 
iiroduce  33  iier  cent.'  of  the  gold  yield  of  the  whole  world,  60  per 
cent,  of  tho  silver,  22  per  cent,  of  the  pig  iron,'  29  per  cent,  of  the 
s*ccl,  ar.d  about  25  per  cent,  of  the  leaxL 

Afarico  has  been  renowned  for  its  gold  and  silver  mines  ever  since 
iha  Spaniards  first  took  possession  cf  it,  and  its  production  is  still 
very  consi  derable.  Indeed,  after  tho  United  States,  it  still  produces 
far  more  silver  than  any  other  country  in  the  world.  The  average 
annual  output  of  silver  daring  the  twenty-five  years  1851  to  18/5 
is  estimated  by  Dr  Adolf  Soetbeer  at  601,520  kilogrammes,  or 
16  124  235  oz. ;'  whilst  tho  average  annual  output  of  gold  during 
the  same  period  was  1785  kilogrammes,  or  57,389  oz.  Tm  ore 
occurs  in  considerable  quantities  in  Mexico,  and  is  Ukely  to  be 
worked  on  a  large  scale  as  soon  as  the  tin  district  is  opened  up  by 
a  r.iihvay.  . 

Central  Ama-ica  possesses  numerous  gold  mines. 
South  /tmerwa.— Venezuela  produces  gold,  copper,  and  a  little 
lead  The  copper  is  found  at  Aroa  near  the  north  coast,  and  the 
cold  in  the  province  of  Guiana,  which  is  now  producing  upwards  of 
100  000  oz.  annually.  It  is  highly  probable  that  the  existence  of 
this  gold  was  known  to  the  Indians,  who  reported  it  to  Sir  Walter 
Ralefoh,  and  so  led  him  to  undertake  his  unfortunate  c^qDedition  in 
search  of  *'  El  Dorado. "  French  Guiana  contains  workable  deposits 
of  Kol<l,  and  yielded  72,168  oz.  in  1880. 

The  chain  of  the  .iVndEs  forms  a  long  belt  of  mineral-producing 
country.  Beginning  with  the  United  States  of  Colombia  we  have 
a  country  rich  in  gold,— the  State  of  Antiquoia  being  especially 
favoured  in  this  resnect.  The  annual  yield  of  all  the  states  is  about 
205,000  oz.  Colom'hia  has  mines  of  rock  salt,  yielding  19,000  tons 
a  year,  and  tho  emerald  mine  at  iluzo  has  long  been  famous.  Peru 
is  renowned  for  its  silver  mines ;  tho  br>st-known  are  those  of  Cerro 
,ie  Pa2C0,  situated  at  an  elevation  of  14,000  feet  above  the  sea-level. 
Passing  into  Bolivia,  we  must  notice  the  silver  mines  of  Potosi, 
the  wcilth  of  which  is  proverbial.  Chili  is  best  known  as  tho 
principal  copper-producing  country  of  South  America  ;  but  its  silver 
mines  are  not  unimportant,  and  beds  of  nitrate  of  soda  are  largely 
wrought 

The  most  remarkable  gold  mines  of  Brazil  lie  in  the  province  r  i 
Minas  Geraes,  whilst  diamonds  aro  obtained  in  that  of  Matt 
Grbsso.  In  the  Argentine  Kepubiic  gold,  silver,  and  copper  miiici 
are  worked,  especially  in  tlie  provinces  on  tie  eastern  Hanks  of  the 
Andes.  ,  .    „ 

i  The  total  annual  output  of  the  precious  metal  in  South  America 
is  estimated  to  be  upwards  of  300,000  oz.  of  gold,  and  2,000,000  oz. 
of  silver.  In  1877  Chili  exported  35,128  metric  tons  of  metallic 
copper,  in  addition  to  ore  ana  regulus. 

A  uMralia.  — Australia  is  remarkably  rich  in  minerals,  especially 
gold  (see  Gold,  vol.  x.  p.  744),  tin,  and  copper,  and  its  coal  deposits 
are  likely  to  be  largely  utilized  in  the  future. 

Queensland,  though  a  young  colony,  has  already  made  itself 
famous  for  gold  and  tin,  and  it  also  possesses  vast  resources  of  coal 
and  copper,  in  addition  to  the  ores  of  other  metals.  The  quantity 
of  gold  sent  by  escort  from  the  difTerent  gold  fields  was  204,388  oz. 
in  1880,  in  addition  to  what  was  carried  by  private  hands.  Tin  ore 
was  first  vforked  in  1872  near  the  border  of  tho  colony  with  New 
Couth  Wales,  and  large  quantities  of  stream  tin  have  been  obtained 
from  very  shallow  alluvial  diggings  near  Stanthorpe.     Like  gold, 


47J 


the  tin  ore  is  not  confined  to  one  district ;  it  occurs  and  ia  worked 
at  the  North  Talmer  diggings;  a  little  to  the  south  ia  Great 
Western,  rich  in  tin  ora,  and  so  is  Herberton  to  the  north-cast  on 
the  other  side  of  the  Dividing  range. 

In  1831  New  South  Wales*  proujced  minrttds  and  metals  worth 
£2,373,191,  viz.,  149,627  oz.  of  gold,  1,775,224  tons  of  coal,  8200 
tons  of  tin,  5493  tons  of  copper,  6560  tons  of  iron,  besides  silver, 
oil-shale,  and  antimony.  In  addition  to  the  facts  concerning  the 
occurrence  of  gold  already  mentioned  (loc,  eit.),  it  is  interesting  to 
note  that  auriferous  conglomerates  containing  the  precious  metal  in 
payable  quantities  have  been  discovered  and  worked  in  this  colony 
in  rocks  of  the  age  of  the  Coal  Measures.'  The  most  importanttin 
district  is  that  of  Vegetable  Creek  in  New  England,  which  from 
1872  tp  1880  produced  20,988  tons  of  tin  ore.  The  accompanying 
map  (fig.  105*)  shows  the  recent  alluvium  which  has  hitherto  been 


Fio  105. -Sketch  Map  of  Part  of  Vegetable  Creek,  New  South  Wales, 
show-ing  recent  and  ancient  tin  deposits.     The  stippled  part  re- 
presenU  tin-bearing    alluvium.      The  shaded  part  AB    denotes 
basalt  which  has  covered  the  lower  portions  of  the  i^ient  tin- 
bearing  alluvia  (deep  leads),  ss  explained  in  fig.  106.    The  rest  is 
granite, 
the  main  source  of  the  supply,  and  the  deep  leads  which,  as  far  as 
xplored  at  present,  promise  still  greater  riches.     The  section  (hg. 
06 «)  shows  that  these  deep  leads,  Uke  those  of  the  gold  fields 


106  «) 

Deep  Lead, 

ftbout  1^0  ft.  Oeep, 


Fio.  lOS.— l^arged  Section  (on  AB  of  fig.  105)  across  Deep  Leads  in  Vegetable  Creek,  New  South  Wales. 

(QOU),  T6L  x.p.  743),  are  old  alluvia  preserved  under  a  capping  of  I  mines  now  at  work  are  on  Yorke's  Peninsula.  In  1881'  South 
basaltic  lava.  There  are  also  numerous  tin  lodes  which  are  begin-  Australia  produced  3S24  tons  of  copper,  worth  £263,370,  and  21,638 
nii:g  to  be  worked.  !  tons  of  copper  ore,  worth  £154,926. 

Victoria  heads  tho  list  of  gold-producing  British  colonies,  having  I       In  1881  Western  Australia  exported  1400  tons  of  lead  ore,  valued 
viplded  in  13S2''  as  much  as  864,610  oz.,  of  which  352,078  oz.  were  I  at  £11,204. 

derived  from  Ulavial  deposits,  and  512,532  oz.  from  quartz  mines.  I  Tasmania,  like  some  parts  of  Australia,  is  rich  in  tin  ore,  which 
1077  tons  of  tin  ore  were  raised  and  375  tons  of  antimony  ore.  I  is  now  obtained  principally  from   an  alluvial   deposit  at  Mount 

.  South  Ansti-alia  is  the  great  copper-producing  province,  though  j  BischofL  The  ore  is  now^almost  entirely  smelted  ^°_^*f  ^f'^°J°°y;^^J 
the  yield  is  not  so  great  as  it  was  ten  years  ago.     Tho  principal     '  ''  '  ""'"'  ^         c  — -*-    »«        /,«o/i  ^rp   wn 


'  Clarence  King,  op.  cit.,  p.  93. 

>  James  M.  Swank,  Siaiuucs  ff  tht  Inn  caul  Sltd  Pradnctimi  <iftht  Vnttcd 
StaUi,  Washini^on,  18S1,  p.  179. 

•  Dr  AdoU  Soeibeer,  BJilmtlaU-Pniuttioit,  Ootlia,  1879,  p.  SO. 

«  Artntutl  Rtport  of  the  Department  ttf  Mine*,  Neie  South  Walet.for  the  year 
1881.  Melboume,  1882,  p.  6. 

»  Annual  Report  of  the  Department  ofjfines,  2few  South  Wetter  for  the  tear 
]S;6,  Syilney,  1877,  p.  i;3. 

•  Furnished  by  Mr  W.  H-  Wesley. 

7  Hiner'-  StatUtiei  of  Tleloriafoi-  the  ieor  ISSt,  MellKranie,  1883,  p.  7. 


in  1880  the  exports  were  3951  tons  of  metal  and  3  tons  of  ore,  worth 
altogether  £341,736. 

tleta  .^coZaiui  furnishes  a  considerable  amount  of  gold  from  quartz 
reefs  and  alluvial  diggings.  The  annual  exports  during  the  ten 
years  1862  to  1872  were  often  600,000  and  even  700,000  oz.  Of  late 
years  the  yield  has  gradually  diminished,  and  in  1880  only  303,215 
oz. ,  valued  at  £1,220,263,  were  exported.     Silver  is  exported  to  the 


'  acXUticaX  BrgUter  of  the  Protirue  of  South  Australia  for  the  tear  188J, 
Adelaide,  1882. 


472 


M  I  N  — M  I  N 


extent  of  20,000  to  30,000  oz.  aunually  ;  it  is  mainly  derived  from 
the  gold  obtuincd  iu  the  Thames  district,  which  contains  about  80 
per  cent,  of  the  less  valuable  metal.  Coal  is  worked  in  several 
places,  but  the  total  output  is  at  present  comparatively  small. 

New  Caledonia.  — The  discovery  of  nickel  ore  in  this  island  by 
M.  Gamier  in  1867  was  one  of  great  mineralogical  interest,  and  it 
has  since  borne  fruits  of  considerable  commercial  importance.  The 
New  Caledonia  ores  are  hydrous  silicates  of  nickel  and  magnesium, 
which  occur  iu  veins  in  serpentine,  and  contain  from  7  to  18  per 
cent,  of  metal.  The  mineral  is  found  on  the  Mont  d'Or  not  far 
from  Noumea.     Most  of  the  ore  is  sent  to  France  to  be  treated. 


To  the  list  of  worfcs  on  tnlaloi:  meotloned  in  tho  article  Coal  (rol.  vt  p.  80' 
the  following  may  bo  added  :— Cullon,  Court  ctriploilalion  del  ilina,  furiv 
1874,  and  English  translation  by  C.  Le  Neve  foster  and  W.  Galloway;  Serl*. 
Leil/ttden  zur  Berglatikmitt,  BCTJIn.  1876;  Zoppcltl,  Arlt  mincraria,  Milan, 
18S2 ;  A.  von  Groddecl(,  Die  Lehre  von  den  Lagentdtten  der  Erze,  Lelpaic,  1879 ; 
P.  von  Kittinger,  Lehi-tmch  der  Aufbertitungsktinde,  Berlin,  1867 ;  Jahrimch  fOr 
das  Berg-  und  Hiiltenwesen  im  Kiinigrtiche  Saehsen,  Freiberg,  annually;  AnnucU 
Reports  of  JIM.  Jmpectora  of  Mines;  PreJiminary  Report  of  Her  Afniesly't 
Commissiomrs  Appointed  to  Inquire  into  Aeeidents  in  Mines,  London,  1861; 
Annates  des  Mines,  Paris,  6  parts  published  yearly  ;  The  Engineerin.j  and  Mining 
Journal,  New  York,  pablished  weeitly  ;  Trattsaetions  of  Ifie  Ameriean  Institute  of 
Mining  Engineers,  Philadelphia ;  IHe  berg-  und  huttenntdnnische Zeitung,  Leipslc, 
weelily;  Oeslerrcielii;ehe  Zcitsehiifl  fUr  Berg-  und  Uiittenwesm,  Vienna, 
weekly.  (C.  L.  N.  F.)  . 


,  MEKISTEY.  Ever  since  the  introduction  of  monarchical 
institutions  into  England  the  sovereign  has  always  been 
surrounded  by  a  select  body  of  confidential  advisers  to 
assist  the  crown  in  the  government  of  the  country.  At 
no  period  could  a  king  of  England  act,  according  to  law, 
without  advice  in  the  public  concerns  of  the  kingdom ; 
tho  institution  of  the  crown  of  England  and  the  insti- 
tution of  the  privy  council  are  coeval.  At  the  era  of 
the  Norman  Conquest  the  king's  council,  ot  as  it  is  now 
called  the  privy  council,  was  composed  of  certain  select 
members  of  the  aristocracy  and  great  officers  of  state, 
specially  summoned  by  the  crown,  with  whom  the  sove- 
reign usually  advised  in  matters  of  state  and  government. 
In  the  earlier  stages  of  English  constitutional  history 
the  king's  councillors,  as  confidential  servants  of  the 
monarch,  were  present  at  every  meeting  of  parUament  in 
order  to  advise  upon  matters  judicial  in  the  House  of 
Lords;  but  in  the  reign  of  Richard  II.  the  privy  coun- 
cil dissolved  its  judicial  connexion  with  the  peers  and 
assumed  an  independent  jurisdiction  of  its  own.  It  was 
in  the  reign  of  Henry  VI.  that  the  king's  council  first 
a.ssumed  the  name  of  privy  council,  and  it  was  also  during 
the  minority  of  this  sovereign  that  a  select  council  was 
gradually  emerging  from  out  of  the  larger  body  of  the 
privy  council,  which  ultimately  resulted  in  the  institution 
of  the  modern  cabinet.  Since  the  Revolution  of  168S,  and 
the  development  of  the  system  of  parliamentary  govern- 
ment, the  privy  council  has  dwindled  into  comparative 
insignificance  when  contrasted  with  its  original  authorita- 
tive position.  The  power  once  swayed  by  the  privj'  council 
is  now  exercised  by  that  unrecognized  select  committee  of 
tho  council  which  we  call  the  cabinet.  The  practice  of 
consulting  a  few  confidential  advisers  instead  of  the  whole 
privy  council  had  been  resorted  to  by  English  monarchs 
from  a  very  early  period  ;  but  the  first  mention  of  the  term 
cabinet  council  iu  contradistinction  to  privy  council  occurs 
in  the  reign  of  Charles  I.,  when  the  burden  of  state  affairs 
iwas  intrusted  to  the  committee  of  state  which  Clarendon 
pays  .was  en^-iously  called  the  "  cabinet  council."  At  first 
government  by  cabinet  was  as  unpopular  as  it  was  irregular. 
Until  the  formation  of  the  first  parliamentary  ministry  by 
William  III.  the  ministers  of  the  king  occupied  no 
recognized  position  in  the  House  of  Commons;  it  was 
indeed  a  moot  point  whether  they  were  entitled  to  sit  at 
all  in  the  lower  chamber,  and  they  were  seldom  of  one 
mind  in  tho  administration  of  matters  of  importance. 
Before  the  Revolution  of  16S8  there  were  ministers,  but 
no  ministry  in  the  modem  sense  of  the  Word ;  colleagne 
Bchemed  against  colleague  in  the  council  chamber,  and  it 
w'as  no  uncommon  thing  to  see  ministers  opposing  one 
another  in  parliament  upon  measures  that  ought  to  have 
Ibecn  supported  by  a  united  cabinet.  As  the  exchange 
from  government  by  prerogative  to  government  by  parlia- 
ment, consequent  upon  the  Revolution  of  1688,  developed, 
and  the  Hou.se  of  Commons  became  more  and  more  the 
-.'entre  and  force  of  the  state,  the  advantage  of  having 
ministers  in  the  legislature  to  explain  and  defend  the 
measures  and  policy  of  the  executive  Government  becMin 


gradually  to  be  appreciated/  The  public  authonty  of  thei 
crown  being  only  cxercLsed  in  acts  of  administration,  or,  in 
other  words,  through  the  medium  of  ministers,  it  became 
absolutely  necessary  that  the  advisers  of  the  sovereign, 
who  were  responsible  for  every  public  act  of  the  crown  as 
well  as  for  the  general  policy  they  had  been  caUed  upon  to 
administer,  should  have  seats  in  both  Houses  of  Parliament. 
The  presence  of  ministers  in  the  legislature  was  the  natural 
consequence  of  the  substitution  of  government  by  parli# 
ment  for  the  order  of  things  that  had  existed  before  1688.' 
StiU  nearly  a  century  had  to  elapse  before  political 
unanimity  in  the  cabinet  was  recognized  as  a  pohtical 
maxim.  From  the  first  parliamentary  ministry  of  WiUiam 
III.  imtU  the  rise  of  the  second  Pitt  divisions  in  the  cabinet 
were  constantly  occurring,  and  a  prime  minister  had  more 
to  fear  from  the  intrigues  of  his  own  colleagues  than  from 
the  tactics  of  the  opposition.  In  1812  an  attempt  was 
made  to  form  a  ministry  consisting  of  men  of  opposite 
political  principles,  who  were  invited  to  accept  office,  not 
avowedly  as  a  coalition  Government,  but  with  an  offer  to 
the  Whig  leaders  that  their  friends  should  be  allowed  a 
majority  of  one  in  the  cabinet.  This  offer  was  declined 
on  the  plea  that  to  construct  a  o  binet  on  "a  system  of 
counteraction  was  inconsistent  with  the  prosecution  of  any 
uniform  and  beneficial  course  of  policy."  From  that  date 
it  has  been  an  established  principle  that  all  cabinets  are  to 
be  formed  on  some  basis  of  political  union  agreed  upon  by, 
the  members  composing  the  same  when  they  accept  office 
together.  It  is  now  also  distinctly  understood  that  the 
members  of  a  cabinet  are  jointly  and  severally  responsible 
for  each  other's  acts,  and  that  any  attempt  to  separate 
between  a  particular  minister  and  his  colleagues  in  such 
matters  is  unfair  and  unconstitutional. 

The  leading  members  of  an  administration  constitute  the 
Cabinet  (q.v.).  The  members  of  an  administration  who* 
are  sworn  of  the  council,  but  who  are  not  cabinet  minis- 
ters, are  the  lord-lieuteuant  of  Ireland,  the  vice-president 
of  the  council  for  education,  the  judge  advocate  general, 
and  the  chief  officers  of  the  royal  hou.sehoid.  The  sub- 
ordinate members  of  an  administration  who  are  never  in 
the  cabinet,  and  who  are  seldom  raised  to  the  distinction  of 
privy  councillors,  are  the  junior  lords  of  the  treasury,  the 
joint-secretaries  to  tho  treasury,  Iho  paymaster-general,  the 
junior  lords  of  the  admiralty,  the  parliamentary  under-.' 
secretaries  of  state,  and  the  law  officers  of  tho  crown. 

During  the  present  century  the  power  of  ministers  has 
been  greatly  extended,  and  their  duties  more  distinctly 
marked  out.  Owing  to  the  development  of  tho  system  of 
parliamentary  government,  much  of  the  authority  which 
formerly  belonged  to  English  sovereigns  has  been  delegated 
to  the  hands  of  responsible  ministers.  As  now  interpreted, 
the  leading  principles  of  the  British  constitution  are  the 
l)ersonal  irresponsibility  of  the  sovereign,  the  responsibility 
of  ministers,  and  the  iniiuisitorial  jiower  of  jiarliament.  At 
the  head  of  affairs  is  the  prime  minister,  and  tho  difference 
between  theory  and  practice  is  curiously  exemplified  by 
tho  post  he  fills.  Tho  office  is  full  of  anomalies.  &  Like  the 
cabinet  council  the  prime  minister  is  unknown  _to.tho.laW 


VOL .  XVI. 


M 


HORIZONTAL  SECTION  OF  PART  OF  THE  COMSTOCK  I 


Sfaj^iuetic  Xortli 


EAST  AND  WEST  SECTION   ACROSS    F 

ilonzoDlaJ  .^  Vpi-ijo^ 


Carbon. uc  flill 


fla<e  U/u.  y-OOO  ttteh/ibovr  ten   Ict-ti, 

■  Fiuilt  '7fiif 
pUATEMMAKY 


CARHOKUthOrS 


fc.al  Glarial   Jril> 


Gla.-iiilLniccb,ds 


mo 


PL  A 'IK  [\: 


[,331  FEET  BELOW  THE  OUTCROP  AT  COULD  t  CURRY  MINE 


fK*-!  Xii  I  incli. 


Explanatiar 


.cz 


?^  ' 


D 


r   OF   THE  LEADVILLE     MINING    DISTRICT 

Ip    ss:t!»  3050  fret  =  1  mch 


■RIAU 


CAJtRRLVN  ARCHAEAN 

Gramle  S?  Gneiss 


IGNEOUS 


White  PoiyhTTT  Otlierroiplrvriesl 

[HI]"  [ITj 


MINISTRY 


473 


and  the  constitutiou,  for  legally  and  according  to  the 
fictions  of  the  constitution  no  one  privy  counciUcr  has  as 
such  any  superiority  over  another,  yet  practically  the 
premier  is  the  pivot  on  which  the  whole  administration 
turns.  He  is  the  racdium  of  intercourse  between  the 
cabinet  and  the  sovereign ;  he  has  to  be  cognizant  of 
all  matters  of  real  importance  that  take  place  in  the 
different  departments  so  as  to  exercise  a  controlling 
influence  in  the  cabinet;  he  is  virtually  responsible  for 
the  disposal  of  the  entire  patronage  of  the  crown ;  he 
selects  his  colleagues,  and  by  his  resignation  of  office 
dissolves  the  ministry.  Yet,  though  entrusted  with  this 
power,  and  wielding  an  almost  absolute  authority,  he 
is  in  theory  but  the  equal  of  the  colleagues  he  appoints 
and  whose  opposition  he  can  sUence  by  the  threat  of  dissolu- 
tion. The  prime  minister  is  nominated  by  the  sovereign. 
"  I  offered,"  said  Sir  Robert  Peel  on  his  resignation  of 
office,  "  no  opinion  as  to  the  choice  of  a  successor.  That 
is  almost  the  only  act  which  is  the  personal  act  of  the 
sovereign ;  it  is  for  the  sovereign  to  determine  in  whom 
her  confidence  shall  be  placed."  Yet  this  selection  by  the 
crown  is  practically  limited.  No  prime  minister  could 
o.M-ry  on  the  government  of  the  country  for  any  length  of 
time  who  did  not  possess  the  confidence  of  the  House  of 
Commons;  and  royal  favour,  if  it  were  ever  invidiously 
exercised,  would  ultimately  have  to  yield  to  a  regard  for 
the  public  interests.  As  a  general  rule  the  prime  minister 
holds  the  office  of  first  lord  of  the  treasury,  either  alone  or 
in  connexion  with  that  of  chancellor  of  the  exchequer. 
Before  1806  the  premiership  was  occasionally  held  in 
connexion  with  different  other  offices, — a  secretaryship  of 
Etate,  the  privy  seal,  and  the  like, — but  it  is  now  almost 
invariably  associated  \vith  the  post  of  first  lord  of  the 
treasury. ""  With  the  exception  of  the  premier,  whose  duties 
fise  more  general  than  departmental,  the  work  of  the  other 
members  of  the  administration  is  exemplified  by  the  title 
of  the  offices  to  which  they  are  called.  The  lord  chancellor, 
in  addition  to  the  jurisdiction  which  he  exercises  in  his 
judicial  capacity,  is  prolocutor  of  the  House  of  Lords  by 
prescription,  the  keeper  of  the  sovereign's  conscience,  the 
general  guardian  of  aU  infants,  idiots,  and  lunatics,  and  to 
him  belongs  the  appointment  of  all  the  justices  of  the 
'peace  throughout  the  kingdom.  In  former  times  the  lord 
chancellor  was  frequently  prime  minister ;  the  earl  of 
;Clarendon  in  the  reign  of  Charles  II.,  however,  was  the 
last  who  occupied  that  position.  The  lord  president  of 
the  council,  who  is  always  a  member  of  the  Upper  House, 
presides  over  the  department  of  the  privy  council,  exercises 
a  general  superintendence  over  the  education  department, 
and  has  to  frame  minutes  of  council  upon  subjects  which 
do  not  belong  to  any  other  department  of  state.  Sub- 
erdinate  to  his  department  are  separate  establishments  in 
relation  to  public  health,  the  cattle  plague,  and  quarantine. 
The  post  of  lord  privy  seal  is  one  of  great  trust,  though 
its  duties  are  not  very  onerous,  since  they  simply  consist 
in  applying  the  privy  seal  once  or  twice  a  week  to  a 
number  of  patents.  Ever  since  the  days  of  Henry  VIII. 
the  privy  seal  has  been  the  warrant  of  the  legality  of 
grants  from  the  crown  and  the  authority  of  the  lord 
chancellor  for  affixing  the  great  seal.  The  lord  privy  seal 
is  always  a  member  of  the  cabinet.  As  his  official  duties 
are  light  he  is  at  liberty  to  afford  assistance  to  the 
administration  in  other  ways,  and  he  has  often  to  attend 
to  matters  which  require  the  investigation  of  a  member 
of  the  Government. 

The  secretaries  of  state  are  among  tlie  most  important  members 
of  the  ministry,  and  within  the  present  century  their  number  has 
keen  increased  and  their  duties  more  specially  consolidated.  The 
smcient  English  monarolis  were  alwaj's  attended  by  a  learned  ecclesi- 
astic, known  at  first  as  their  clerk,  and  afterwards  as  secretary, 
who  conducted  the  royal  correspondence :  but  it  was  not  until  the 

16— 18» 


end  of  the  reign  of  Queen  EUz.ihc  th  th.it  these  functionaries  were 
called  secretaries  of  state.  Upon  tho  direction  cf  public  aflairs 
passing  from  the  privy  council  to  the  cabinet  after  1688,  the  secre- 
taries of  state  began  to  assume  those  high  duties  which  now  render 
their  office  one  of  the  most  influential  ol'  au  adminLsfration.     Until 

,the  reign  of  Henry  VIII.  there  was  generally  only  one  secretary  of 
state,  but  at  the  end  of  his  reign  a  second  principal  secretary  was 
appointed.  Owing  to  the  increase  of  business  consequent  upon  the 
union  of  Scotland,  a  third  secretary,  in  1708,  was  created,  but  a' 
vacancy  occuning  in  this  office  in  1746  the  third  secretaryship  was] 
dispensed  with  until  1763,  when  it  was  again  instituted  to  take 
charge  of  the  increasing  colonial  business.  However,  in  1782  the' 
office  was  again  abolished,  and  the  charge  of  the  colonies  trans-! 
fon-ed  to  the  home  secretary ;  but  owing  to  the  war  with  France  in' 
1794  a  third  secretary  was  once  more  appointed  to  superintend  the' 
business  of  the  war  department,  and  seven  years  later  the  colonial 
business  was  attached  to  his  department.  In  1854  a  fourth  secre- 
tary of  state  for  the  exclusive  charge  of  the  war  derartment  and  in 
1858  a  fifth  secretaryship  for  India  were  created.  There  are  there- 
fore now  five  principal  secretaries  of  state,  four  of  whom,  with  their 
political  imder-secretaries,  occupy  seats  in  the  House  of  Commons. 
One  of  these  secretaries  of  state  is  always  a  member  of  the  House  of 
Lords.  The  secretaries  of  state  are  the  only  authorized  eliannels 
through  which  the  royal  pleasure  is  signified  to  any  part  of  the 
body  politic,  and  the  counter-signature  of  one  of  them  is  necessary 
to  give  validity  to  the  sign  manual ;  thus,  while  the  personal 
immunity  of  tho  sovereign  is  secured,  a  responsible  adviser  for  every 
act  is  provided  who  has  to  answer  for  whatever  c^^urse  the  cro^Yn 
has  pursued.  The  secretaries  of  state  constitute  but  one  office,  and 
are  coordinate  in  rank  and  equal  in  authority.  Each  is  competent 
in  general  to  execute  any  part  of  the  duties  of  the  secretary  of  state, 
the  division  of  duties  being  a  mere  matter  of  arrangement.  The-ie 
duties  are  of  the  deepest  importance  to  the  welfare  of  tho  nation.^ 
The  home  secretary  conti-ols  all  matters  relating  to  the  internal 
affairs  of  the  country  :  ho  is  responsible  for  the  preservation  of  the 
public  peace  and  for  the  security  of  life  and  property  throughout 
the  kingdom  ;  he  exercises  extensive  powers  over  the  civil  and 
military  authorities  of  the  country,  and  has  a  direct  controlling 
power  over  the  administration  of  justice  and  police  iu  the  municipal 
boroughs,  over  the  police  in  and  around  London,  and  over  the 
county  constabulary  ;  and  he  is  especially  responsible  for  the  exer- 
cise of  the  royal  prerogative  iu  the  reprieve  or  pardon  of  convicted 
ofi'enders  or  the  commutation  of  their  sentences.  The  foreign  secre- 
tary, as  his  name  implies,  is  the  official  organ  of  the  crown  in  all 
communications  between  Great  Britain  and  foreign  powers :  he 
negotiates  all  treaties  or  alliances  with  foreign  states,  protects 
British  subjects  residing  abroad,  and  demands  satisfaction  for  ary 
injuries  they  may  sustain  at  the  hands  of  foreigners.  The  secretary 
of  state  for  the  colonies  has  to  superintend  the  government  of  the 
various  colonial_  possessions  of  the  British  crown  :  he  appoints  the 
governors  over  the  different  dependencies  of  the  crown,  and  sane-, 
tions  or  disallows  the  enactments  of  the  colonial  legislatures.  This 
latter  power  has  of  late  years  been  much  cui'tailed  owing  to  the 
establishment  of  responsible  government  in  most  of  the  colonie;  ;' 
still  it  is  the  diity  of  the  secretary  of  the  colonies  to  correspond  with' 
the  colonial  governors  and  to  otfer  such  suggestions  as  may  te^ 
expedient  to  assist  the  deliberations  of  the  colonial  councils  and  to) 
promote  the  welfare  of  colonial  subjects.  Until  the  year  1854  thej 
direction  of  militaiy  affairs  was  practically  divided  bet^veen  the' 
commander-in-chief  at  the  horse  guards,  the  board  of  ordnance,  the 
secretary  at  war,  and  the  secretaiy  of  state  for  war  and  the  colonies.! 
Upon  the  declaration  of  hostilities,  however,  against  Russia  in  1854, 
the  duties  of  war  minister  were  separated  from  those  of  colonial! 
secretary,  and  a  secretary  of  state  for  war  appointed,  in  whose  hands' 
the  supreme  and  responsible  authority  over  the  whole  roilitaryj 
business  of  the  country  formerly  transacted  by  tho  various  depart- 
ments was  placed.  The  actions  of  the  commander-in-chief  are  sub- 
ject to  the  approval  of  the  secretary  of  state  for  war.  The  duties  of 
the  commander-in-chief  embrace  the  discipline  and  patronage  of  the 
army  and  the  direct  superintendence  of  the  perr^^mel  of  the  army ; 
with  the  exception  of  those  duties,  everything  connected  with  the 
management  of  the  army  in  peace  or  war  (its  maUricl  and  civil| 
administration,  &c, )  remains  in  the  hands  of  the  war  minister.  Tliel 
subordinate  position  of  the  commander-in-chief  is  the  result  of  the' 
British  system  of  parliamentary  government.  The  secretary  of  state 
for  war  is  the  minister  of  the  crown  and  not  of  parliament ;  although' 
he  is  responsible  to  parliament  for  the  advice  he  may  give  to  tho 
sovereign,  yet  it  is  in  the  execution  of  the  royal  autliority  and 
prerogative  that  he  is  superior  to  the  officer  commanding  in  chief.! 
The  principle  of  the  constitutional  army  is  that  command,  prefer- 
ment, and  honour  come  to  it  from  the  crown  ;  but  the  general  prin- 
ciple is  equally  undisputed  that  for  all  pecuniary  remunerarion  it 
is  made  to  depend  on  parliament.  By  the  constitution  the  crown 
exercises  its  authority  only  through  responsible  advisers,  and  Irenes 
it  follows  that  tho  secretary  of  state  for  war  is  supremo  over  any 
authority  in  the  army,  including  the  officer  commanding  in  chief. 

-  From  1781  to  1858  the  territories  belonging  to  the  British  crowniul 


474 


M I N— M I N 


tlic  East  Indies  were  governed  by  a  department  of  state  called  the 
board  of  control  in  conjunction  with  the  court  of  dircctora  of  the 
East  India  Company.  In  1858  this  double  government  was 
abolished,  and.  the  entire  administration  of  the  British  empire  in 
India  was  assumed  by  the  crown,  and  all  the  powers  formerly  exer- 
cised by  tile  East  India  Company  and  the  board  of  control  were 
transferred  to  a  fifth  principal  secretary  of  state.  The  secretary  for 
India  is  responsible  for  everything  connected  with  the  Indian 
Government  at  home  and  abroad  ;  the  whole  of  the  Indian  revenues 
are  at  his  disposal,  and  the  governor-general  of  India  is  subject  to 
his  control.  To  assist  him  iu  his  labours,  and  to  act  as  a  check  upon 
the  exercise  of  liis  otherwise  arbitrary  administrative  powers,  this 
secretary  has  the  aid  of  a  council  of  state  for  India,  consisting  of 
fifteen  persons,  of  which,  however,  he  is  the  president.  The  members 
6t  the  council  for  luilia  cannot  sit  iu  the  House  of  Commons. 

The  duties  of  the  other  members  of  the  ministry  can  be  briefly 
dismissed.  The  chancellor  of  the  exchequer  at  present  exercises  all 
the  poweis  which  formerly  devolved  upon  the  ti^easury  board ;  he 
has  the  entire  control  of  all  matters  relating  to  the  receipt  and 
expenditure  of  public  money ;  be  frames  the  annual  estimates  of  the 
sums  required  to  defray  the  expeuditure  of  government  in  every 
branch  of  the  public  service  ;  and  it  is  his  duty  to  lay  before  tho 
country  the  annual  statement  of  the  estimated  expenses  of  govern- 
ment and  of  the  ways  and  means  by  which  it  is  proposed  to  defray 
those  charges,  including  the  imposition  or  remission  of  taxes.  The 
lu-st  lord  of  the  admiralty  {since  the  abolition  of  the  office  of  lord 
high  admiral),  with  the  aid  of  the  junior  lords  who  are  called  the 
lords  of  the  admiralty,  conducts  the  administration  of  the  entire 
naval  force  of  the  empire  both  at  home  and  abroad,  and  is  respon- 
sible to  parliament  for  all  his  political  proceedings  ;  as  the  admiralty 
is  but  an  executive  board,  it  is,  however,  subject  on  certain  matters 
— the  number  of  men  required  for  the  naval  service,  the  distribution 
of  the  fleet,  the  strength  of  foreign  squadrons,  &c.  — to  the  control 
of  the  cabinet.  The  president  of  the  board  of  trade  takes  cognizance 
of  all  matters  relating  to  trade  and  commerce,  and  has  to  protect 
the  mercantile  interests  of  the  United  Kingdom  ;  until  1864  it  was 
not  necessary  for  the  president  to  have  a  seat  in  the  cabinet,  but 
since  that  date  he  has  always  been  a  cabinet  minister  in  order  to 
insure  for  his  advice  on  commercial  matters  a  duo  consideration  ;  in 
3SC7  the  office  of  vice-president  of  the  board  was  abolished.  The 
chancellor  of  the  duchy  of  Lancaster  exercises  jurisdiction  over  all 
matters  of  equity  relating  to  lands  held  of  the  crown  in  right  of  the 
duchy  of  Lancaster  ;  the  office  is,  however,  practically  a  sinecure, 
and  is  usually  filled  by  a  leading  statesman  whose  time  is  at  the 
service  of  the  Government  for  the  consideration  of  such  important 
rjuestions  as  do  not  come  within  the  province  of  other  departments. 
In  1832  the  public  works  and  buildings  of  Great  Britain  were  for 
the  first  time  placed  under  the  control  of  a  responsible  minister  of 
the  crown,  and  were  assigned  to  the  charge  of  the  commissioners  of 
woods  and  forests  ;  but  iu  1851  the  department  of  public  works  was 
separated  from  the  woods  and  forests  and  erected  into  a  board  under 
t)ic  name  of  the  office  of  her  majesty's  works  and  public  buildings. 
Tiie  fiist  commissioner  of  works  is  the  head  of  the  board,  and  in  his 
liquids  is  placed  the  custody  of  the  royal  jialaces  and  parks  and  of  all 
public  buildings  not  specially  assigned  to  the  care  of  other  depart- 
ments. Since  the  establisliinent.of  his  office  the  first  commissioner 
has  frequently  had  a  seat  in  tlie  cabinet.  The  duties  of  the  post- 
master-general, of  the  president  of  the  local  govei-nmcut  board,  and 
of  the  minor  members  of  the  administration  are  so  obvious  from  the 
titles  of  tho  offices  they  hold  as  not  to  call  for  any  special  mention. 

The  prime  minister  is  responsible  for  the  distribution  of  the  chief 
offices  of  government  bstween  tlio  two  Houses  of  Parliament. 
Owing  to  the  development  of  the  House  of  Commons  within  the 
present  century  it  is  now  considered  advisable  that  a  larger  propor- 
tion of  cabinet  ministers  should  have  scats  in  that  chamber  than 
was  formerly  the  c.ise.'  In  the  first  cabinet  of  George  III.  only  one 
of  its  membeis  was  in  the  House  of  Commons  and  thirteen  in  the 
House  of  Lords.  In  1783  Mr  Pitt  was  the  sole  cabinet  minister  in 
the  Commons.  In  1801  four  cabinet  ministei-s  were  in  the  Commons 
and  five  in  the  Lords.  In  1804  Mr  Pitt  and  Lord  Castlereagh  were, 
out  of  a  cabinet  of  twelve,  the  only  ministers  in  tho  Commons.  In 
tho  Grenville  ministry  ("All  the  Talents"),  of  a  cabinet  of  eleven, 
seven  were  in  the  Lords  and  four  in  the  Commons.  In  1809,  of 
Mr  Perceval's  cabinet,  six  were  peers  and  four  commcr.ers.  Inl8]2, 
of  Lord  Liverpool's  cabinet,  ten  were  peers  and  only  two  commoners. 
In  1818,  out  of  a  cabinet  of  fourteen,  six  were  commoners  ;  and  in 
1822,  out  of  a  cabinet  of  fifteen,  nine  were  peers.  Since  the' Reform 
Act  of  1832,  however,  the  leading  members  of  Government  have 
been  more  equally  apportioned  between  the  two  Houses. 

Scoilny.  Cotitlilulional  llhlory  of  Englntid;  C<1X,  hiflllulloa,  (>/ llm  Snyllih 
Oovet'nment  \  Alpliciu  Todd,  Ofl  ParliaitutUaiy  Oovtnimtnt ;  Cooke,  //istortj  of 
''"•■'y-  (A.  C.  L.) 

MINK.  Tlie  genus  Pntorius,  belonging  to  the  family 
MusUliilx  or  Weasel-like  animals  (see  Mammalia,  vol. 
-\v.  p.  440),  contains  a  few  species  called  Minks,  distin- 
guished from  the  rest  by  slight  structural  modifications,  and 


especially  by  semiaquatic  habits.  They  form  me  suDgenus 
Lutreola  of  Wagner,  the  genus  Vison  of  Gray.  Ab  in  other 
members  of  the  genus,  the  dental  formula  is  t  |,  c  ^,  ^  ;;, 
m  J  ;  total  34.  They  are  distinguished  from  the  Polecats, 
Stoats,  and  Weasels,  which  constitute  the  remainder  of  thu 
group,  by  the  facial  part  of  the  skull  being  narrower  and 
more  approaching  in  form  that  of  the  Martens,  by  the  pre- 
molar teeth  (especially  the  first  of  the  upper  jaw)  bein^; 
larger,  by  the  toes  being  partially  webbed,  and  by  tho 
absence  of  hair  in  the  intervals  between  the  naked  pads  of 
the  soles  of  the  feet.  The  two  best-known  species,  so  much 
alike  in  size,  form,  colour,  and  habits  that  although  they  arc 
widely  separated  geographically  some  zoologists,  question 
their  specific  distinction,  are  P.  lutrcoUi,  the  l\iir2  or  Sumj)f- 
otter  (Marsh-Otter)  of  eastern  Europe,  and  P.  vison,  this 
Mink  of  North  America.  The  former  inhabits  Finland, 
Poland,  and  tho  greater  part  of  Ru.ssia,  though  not  found 
east  of  the  Ural  mountains.  Formciiy  it  extended  west- 
ward into  central  Germany,  but  it  is  now  very  rare,  if  not 
extinct,  in  that  country.  The  latter  is  found  in  placea 
which  suit  its  habits  throughout  the  whole  of  North 
America.  Another  form,  P.  sihiricus,  from  eastern  Asia, 
of  which  much  less  is  known,  appears  to  connect  the  true 
Minks  with  the  Polecats. 

The  name  may  have  originated  in  the  Swedish  maenh  applied 
to  the  European  animal.  Captain  John  Smith,  in  his  Hisiory  of 
Virjjinia  (1626),  at  p.  27,  speaks  of  "  Martins,  Powlecats,  Weesels, 
and^llinkes,"  showing  that  the  animal  must  at  that  time  have  been 
distinguished  by  a  vernacular  appellation  from  its  congeners.  By 
later  authors,  as  Lawson  (1709)  and  Pennant  (1784),  it  is  often 
written  "Minx."  For  the  following  description,  chiefly  taken  from 
the  American  form  (though  almost  equally  applicable  to  that  of 
Europe)  wo  are  mainly  indebted  to  Elliott  Coues's  Fur-lcaring 
Animods  of  North  America,  1877.  I 

In  size  it  much  resembles  the  English  Polecat,  —the  length  of  the 
head  and  body  being  usually  from  15  to  IS  inches,  that  of  the  tail 
to  the  end  of  the  hair  about  9  inches.  The  female  is  considerably 
smaller  than  the  male.  The  tail  is  bushy,  but  tapering  at  the  end. 
The  ears  are  small,  low,  rounded,  and  scarcely  project  beyond  the 
adjacent  fur.  The  pelage  consists  of  a  dense,  soft,  matted  under  fur, 
mixed  with  long,  stiff,  lustrous  hairs  on  all  parts  of  the  body  and 
tail.  Tho  gloss  is  greatest  on  the  upper  parts  ;  on  the  tail  the 
bristly  hairs  predominate.  Northern  specimens  have  the  finest  and 
most  glistening  pelage  ;  in  those  from  southern  regions  there  is  less 
diflerence  between  the  under  and  over  fur,  and  the  whole  pelage  ia 
coarser  and  harsher.  In  colour,  dilfcnmt  specimens  present  a  con- 
siderable lange  of  variation,  but  the  animal  is  ordinarily  of  a  rich 
dark  brown,  scarcely  or  not  paler  below  than  on  the  general  upper 
parts  ;  but  the  back  is  usually  the  darkest,  and  the  tail  is  nearly 
black.  The  under  jaw,  from  the  chin  about  as  far  back  as  the 
angle  of  the  mouth,  is  generally  white.  In  the  European  Mink  the 
upper  lip  is  also  white,  but,  as  this  occasionally  occurs  in  American 
specimens,  it  fails  as  an  absolutely  distinguishing  character.  Besides 
the  white  on  the  chin,  there  are  often  other  irregular  white  patches 
on  the  under  parts  of  the  body.  In  very  rare  instances  the  tail  is 
tipped  with  white.  The  fur,  like  that  of  iiiost  of  the  animals  of  tho 
group  to  which  it  belongs,  is  an  inipoi-tant  article  of  commerce. 

The  piiucipal  characteristic  of  the  Mink  iu  comp.nrison  with  its 
congeners  is  its  amphibious  mode  of  life.  It  is  to  the  water  what 
the  other  Weasels  are  to  the  land,  or  M.irtens  to  the  trees,  being  as 
essentially  aquatic  in  its  habits  as  the  Otter,  Beavci-,  or  Musk-rat, 
and  speniing  perhaps  more  of  its  time  in  the  water  than  it  does  on 
land.  It  swims  with  most  of  the  body  submerged,  and  dives,  with 
perfect  case,  remaining  long  without  coming  to  the  surface  to 
breathe.  It  makes  its  nest  in  burrows  in  the  bunks  of  streams, 
breeding  once  a  year  about  the  n-.onth  of  Ajnil,  and  producing  five 
or  six  youn"  at  a  birth.  Its  food  consists  of  frogs,  fish,  freshwater 
molluscs  and  crustaceans,  as  well  as  mice,  rats,  musk-rats,  rabbits, 
and  small  birds.  In  common  with  the  other  animals  of  the  genus, 
it  has  a  very  peculiar  and  disagieeablc  clfluvium,  which,  according 
to  Cones,  is  more  powerful,  penetrating,  and  lasting  than  that  of 
any  animal  of  tho  country  except  tlie  Skunk.  It  also  possesses  the 
courage,  ferocity,  and  tenacity  of  life  of  its  allies.  When  token 
young,  however,  it  can  be  readily  tamed,  and  lately  Minks  have 
been  cxtcnsiv.ly  bred  in  cijitivily  in  America  both  for  the  sak.-  ..f 
tlieir  fur  and  fin-  the  purpose  of  using  them  in  like  manner  as  Fen  irts 
in  England,  to  char  buildings  of  rats.  (W.  H.  F.) 

MINNEAPOLIS,  the  county  seat  of  Hennepin  county, 
Minnesota,  United  States,  and  in  1880  the  first  city  of 
the  State  as  regards  population,  lies  on  both  banks  of  the 


t 


y 


M  I  N  —  M  I  N 


47a 


Mississippi,  at  tlie  falls  of  St  Anthony,  14  miles  by  river 
abovn  St  Paul.  The  east  side  v/as  first  settled,  under  the 
name  of  St  Anthony,  which  was  incorporated  as  a  city  in 
1860.  The  west  side  settlement,  named  Minneapolis,  was 
incorporated  as  a  city  in  1867,  and  soon  surpassed  St 
Anthony  in  population.  In  1872  the  two  cities  were 
united  under  the  name  of  Minneapolis.  The  chief  in- 
dustries are  the  manufacture  of  flour  and  of  lumber,  for 
•  |Which  the  faUs  supply  abundant  water-power.  The  Missis- 
sippi here  flows  over  a  limestone  bed  resting  upon  a  friable 
jwhite  sandstone;  hence  erosion  is  rapid,  and  the  river 
banks  show  that  the  falls  have  receded  from  a  position  at 
ithe  mouth  of  the  Minnesota  river.  In  1851  90  feet  of  the 
limestone  gave  way  at  once;  and,  as  the  rock  bed  extends 
ibut  1200  feet  above  the  present  site  of  the  faUs,  the 
destruction  of  the  water-power  was  threatened.  This  has 
been  averted  by  the  construction  of  an  apron,  or  inclined 
plane,  of  timber,  with  heavy  cribwork  at  the  bottom,  and 
the  building  of  a  concrete  wall  in  the  bed  of  sandstone 
behind  the  falls  and  underneath  the  channel  of  the  river. 
For  this  work  the  United  States  Government  appropriated 
$550,000  and  the  citizens  of  Minneapolis  contributed 
$334,500.  The  city  has  twenty-seven  flour-mills,  which 
can  produce  29,272  barrels  a  day.  The  total  product  for 
the  year  ended  September  1,  1882,  was  2,301,667  barrels. 
The  shipments  of  lumber  for  1880  were  164,620,000  feet. 
^he  population  in  1870  was  18,079;  and  in  1880,  46,887. 

MIXNESANGER.     See  Germany,  vol.  x.  p.  525. 
to'©  MINNESOTA,  one  of  the  north-western  States  of  the 

American  Union,  extending  from  43°  30'  N.  lat.  to  the 
British  Possessions  (about  49°  N.  lat.),  and  from  Wisconsin 
and  Lake  Superior  on  the  east  to  Dakota  on  the  west, 
between  the  meridians  of  89°  39'  and  97°  5'  W.  long.  Its 
area,  including  half  of  the  lakes,  straits,  and  rivers  along 
its  boundaries,  except  Kainy  Lake  and  Lake  of  the  Woods, 
amounts  to  83,365  square  miles. 

The  sui-face  of  Minnesota  is  diversified  by  few  elevations 
of  any  great  height.  In  general  it  is  an  undulating  plain, 
breaking  in  some  sections  into  rolling  prairie,  and  traversed 
by  belts  of  timber.  It  has  an  average  elevation  above 
sea-level  of  about  1000  feet.  The  watershed  of  the  north 
(which  determines  the  course  of  the  three  great  continental 
river  systems)  and  that  of  the  west  are  not  ridges  or  hills, 
but  elevations  whoso  inclination  is  almost  insensible.  The' 
southern  and  central  portions  of  the  State  are  chiefly 
rolling  prairie,  the  upper  part  of  which  is  crossed  from 
N.W.  to  S.E.  by  the  forest  belt  known  as  the  Big  Woods, — 
a  stretch  of  deciduous  forest  trees  with  an  area  of  about 
5000  square  miles.  North  of  the  47th  parallel,  the  great 
Minnesota  pine  belt  reaches  from  Lake  Superior  to  the 
comines  of  the  Red  River  valley,  including  the  region  of 
the  headwaters  of  the  Mississippi  and  its  upper  tributaries, 
as  well  as  those  of  the  Superior  streams.  North  of  the 
pine  region  there  is  but  a  stunjed  gro'ivth  of  tamarack  and 
dwarf  pine.  In  the  north-east  are  found  the  rugged  ele- 
vations of  the  granite  uplift  of  the  shores  of  Lake  Superior, 
rising  to  a  considerable  height ;  while  in  the  north-west 
|the  surface  slopes  away  to  the  level  prairie  reaches  of  the 
Red  River  valley.  The  surface  elevation  of  the  State 
jvaries  from  800  to  2000  feet  above  sea-level.  A  short  line 
of  hills  in  the  north-east  reaches  the  latter  altitude,  while 
•only  the  volleys  of  the  Red  River,  the  Mississippi,  and  the 
iMinnesota  fall  below  the  former. 

Geotogy  and  Soil. — The  geology  has  not  yet  been 
nnapped  out  with  the  precision  attained  in  other  States. 
jTh«  great  central  zone,  from  Lake  Superior  to  the  south- 
Iwestcrn  extremity  of  the  State,  is  occupied  by  granitic  and 
metamorphic  rocks,  succeeded,  in  the  south-east,  by  nar- 
/rower  bands  of  later  formation.  Within  the  great  Azoic  area 
Mies  the  central  watijshed  of  the  continent,  from  which  the 


St  Lawrence  system  sends  its  waten  towards  the  Atlantic,- 
the  Mississippi  towards  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  and  the  Red 
River  of  the  North  to  Hudson's  Bay.  These  primordial 
rocks  carry  back  the  geologic  history  of  Minnesota  to  pre- 
Silurian  times.  U'hey  form  in  the  north-east,  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  Lake  Superior,  an  extremely  rough  and 
hilly  country,  but  as  they  reach  the  central  and  south- 
western portions  of  the  State  they  for  the  most  part 
disappear  beneath  the  surface  drift.  This  central  belt  is 
succeeded,  on  the  south  and  east,  by  a  stretch  of  sandstone, 
partially  the  true  red  Potsdam  and  partially  a  similar  but 
lighter-coloured  stratum,  which  some  have  proposed  to 
designate  the  St  Croix  Sandstone.  Isolated  beds  of  sand- 
stone are  found  in  various  parts  of  the  State.  The  north- 
western corner,  stretching  east  from  the  Red  River  valley, 
is  believed  to  be  Cretaceous;  but  the  great  depth  of 
drift  and  alluvium,  disturbed  by  no  large  rivers,  prevents 
a  positive  conclusion.  The  Lower  Magnesian  limestone 
underlies  the  extreme  south-eastern  portion  of  the  State, 
and  extends  along  the  west  side  of  the  Mississippi  to  a 
point  a  little  below  St  Paul ;  thence  it  takes  a  course 
almost  semicircular,  and  finally  passes  out  of  the  State  at 
the  south-western  boundary.  The  Trenton  limestone 
occupies  a  large  field  in  the  south  and  south-east;  it 
comes  to  the  surface  in  long  irregular  bands,  and  an  island 
of  it  underlies  the  cities  of  Minneapolis  and  St  Paul 
^vith  the  adjacent  districts.  The  Galena  limestone,  the 
Masquoketa  shales,  the  Niagara  limestone,  and  the  rocks 
of  the  Devonian  age  in  turn  prevail  in  the  other  counties 
of  the  south  and  east ;  while  the  existence  of  the  St  Peter 
sandstone  would  scarcely  be  known  but  for  its  outcropping 
along  the  bluffs  of  the  Mississippi,  and  at  the  famous 
waterfall  of  Minnehaha.  From  these  various  formation? 
numerous  kinds  of  stone  valuable  for  building  jiurposes  aro 
obtained.  The  grey  granite  of  St  Cloud  is  extremely  hard 
and  enduring.  The  Lower  Magnesian  furnishes  two 
especially  handsome  building  stones, — the  pink  limestone 
known  as  Kasota  stone,  and  the  cream-coloured  stone  of 
Red  Wing,  both  easily  worked,  and  hardening  by  exposure 
to  atmospheric  changes.  Naturally,  from  its  ^location 
underneath  the  principal  cities  of  the  State,  the  Trenton 
limestone  is  the  most  widely  used.  Sand  suitable  for 
glass-making,  and  argillaceous  deposits  abound.  The 
clays  which  make  up  so  large  a  portion  of  the  sur- 
face drift  of  the  State  are  almost  wholly  of  glacial 
origin.  Overlying  the  deposits  of  sand,  gravel,  boulders, 
and  clay  is,  in  most  portions  of  the  State,  a  sandy 
loam,  very  finely  divided,  rich  in  organic  matter,  deep 
bro^^^l  or  black  in  colour,  and  of  the  greatest  fertility. 
It  is  this  soil  which  has  given  to  the  State  its  reputation 
for  productiveness.  Its  depth  varies  from  2  to  5  feet  in 
various  parts  of  the  State,  and  it  has  been  described  by 
Dr  Owen  as  "  excellent  in  quality,  rich  as  well  in  organic 
matter  as  in  those  mineral  salts  which  give  rapidity  to  the 
growth  of  plants,  while  it  has  that  durability  which  enables 
it  to  sustain  a  long  succession  of  crops." 

Rivers  and  Lakes, — The  State  holds  a  unique  place  with  reference 
to  the  great  water  systems  of  the  continent.  The  Mississippi  takes 
its  rise  in  Lake  Itasca,  north  of  the  centre  of  the  State.  Before 
it  leaves  the  State  limits  it  becomes  a  great  river,  half  a  mile  wide, 
and  from  5  to  20  feet  deep.  It  drains  with  its  tributaries  all 
the  southern  and  central  portions  and  a  large  area  of  the  northern 
part  of  the  State.  It  is  navigable  as  far  as  St  Paul,  and  at 
Minneapolis  the  falls  of  St  Anthony  afford  unrivalled  facilities 
for  manufacturing.  Of  the  many  affluents  of  the  Mis- 
sissippi the  most  important  is  the  Minnesota,  which  after  a 
course  of  about  440  miles  flows  into  the  maiii  stream  at  Fort 
Snclling,  3  miles  above  St  Paul.  The  source  of  the  Minnesota  i" 
but  1  mile  from  Lake  Traverse,  the  origin  of  the  Picd  Kiver  of  the 
North,  and  it  is  navigable  during  the  high-water  season  for  about 
238  irules.  Its  principal  tributaries  are  the  Blue  Earth,  Cliippewa, 
Redwood,  Lac  qui  Parle,  and  Pommo  de  Terre.  Tlie  Kcd  Rivei 
system  drains  the  north-western  part  of  the  State,  and  its  vatsy 


476 


M  I  N  N  E  S  0  T  'A 


finally  pass  into  Hudson's  Bay,  as  also  do  those  from  the 
country  drained  by  streams  flowing  to  th,e  llainy  Lake  river  and 
the  lakes  along  the  northern  boundary  line.  East  of  tliis  lies  the 
region  tributary  to  Lake  Superior  and  tlte  St  Lawrence  system. 
Tliis  comprises  an  area  within  the  State  estimated  at  9000  bquare 
miles.  Its  principal  river  is  the  St  Louis.  There  mo  altogether 
about  2796  miles  of  navigable  water  in  Minnesota. 

The  number  of  lakesisestimated  at  seven  thousand.  They  are  of  all 
sszes,  and  are  found  chiefly  in  the  northern  tv/o-tliirds  of  the  State. 
They  have  been  classified  geologically  into  glacial  or  drift  lakes, 
fluviatile  or  river  lakes,  occupying  basins  on  river  courses,  and  lakes 
having  rock  basins  either  scooped  out  by  the  action  of  glaciers  or 
formed  by  the  rclative-position  of  different  geological  formations.  By 
f«r  the  greater  number  give  evidence  of  glacial  action  in  thair  origin. 
They  abound  over  the  region  most  deeply  covered  by  the  surface 
drift,  and  are  especially  prevalent  in  morainic  districts,  forming 
the  southern  fringe  of  the  lacustrine  area  of  North  America.  With 
the  melting  of  the  ics-sheet  which  once  overspread  Minnesota  its 
innumerable  lakes  came  into  existence  ;  and  the  gentle  acclivity 
of  its  slopes,  precluding  rapid  erosive  action,  has  terided  to  give 
permanence  to  the  depressions  constituting  their  basins.  The 
census  returns  give  4160  square  miles  of  water  surface  within  the 
State,  Most  of  the  lakes  are  exceedingly  picturesque  in  their  sur- 
roundings. Forests  skirt  their  shores,  which  are  seldom  marshy  ; 
and  their  waters,  abounding  in  various  kinds  of  fish,  are  clear  and 
cooL  Besides  the  sanitary  advantages  afforded  by  the  lakes,  as 
supplying  places  for  recreation  and  delightful  summer  resorts,  they 
afl^ct  the  climate  to  some  extent,  tempering  the  extremes  com- 
monly experienced  in  northern  latitudes.  The  fact  that  many  of 
the  lakes  are  gradually  drying  up  must  be  explained  by  agricul- 
tural operations.  The  largest  lakes,  exclusive  of  Superior,  lying 
wholly  or  in  part  in  Minnesota  are  as  follows  : — Lake  of  the 
Woods,  612  square  miles  ;  Ked,  342;  Mille  Lacs,  198;  Leech,  I9i; 
Rainy,  146;  Winuibigoshish,  7S;  and  Vermilion,  63. 

Flora  and  Fauna. — The  flora  and  fauna  present  no  marked 
fUfFei'ences  from  those  of  other  States  in  the  same  latitude.  In  a 
partial  list  of  the  birds  of  ilinnesota,  two  hundred  and  eighty-one 
species  are  enumerated.  Of  winter  birds  fifty-two  species  have  been 
jelassiQed,  twenty-three  oi  them  being  permanent  residents. 

Climate. — The  State  lies  so  far  north  as  to  have  a  low  mean 
fennual  temperature,  and  so  far  inland  as  to  have  the  characteristic 
'oontiueutal  climate.  Its  elevation  above  sea-level  gives  an  agree- 
able rarefaction  to  the  atmosphere,  and  makes  tlie  prevalence  of 
fogs  and  damp  weather  unknown.  Between  Juno  and  January 
there  is  au  annual  variation  from  the  summer  heat  of  southern 
Ohio  to  the  winter  cold  of  Montreal.  The  winter,  usually  com- 
mencing in  November,  and  continuing  till  near  the  end  of  ilarch, 
78  not  a  period  of  intense  continued  cold,  but  is  subject  to  consider- 
able variations.  As  a  rule,  the  comparative  dr3'uess  of  the  atmo- 
sphere neutralizes  the  severest  effect  of  excessive  cold.  The  snowfall 
is  extremely  light  during  most  of  the  winter,  but  as  spring 
approaches  precipitation  becomes  greater,  and  there  are  frequently 
heavy  snowfalls  in  February  and  March.  The  change  from  winter 
to  summer  is  rapid,  vegetation  sometimes  seeming  to  leap  into  full 
and  active  growth  within  the  space  of  a  few  weeks.  The  summer 
months  bring  days  of  intense  heat,  but,  with  comparatively  rare 
exceptions,  the  nights  are  delicinusly  cooL  Hot  days  and  cool 
Bights  make  the  ideal  weather  for  a  good  wheat  crop  ;  and  the 
forcing  heats  of  summer  produce  in  luxuriant  growth  the  vegetable 
life  which  belongs  to  the  middle  States.  Tlie  Smithsonian  chart 
assigns  to  Minnesota  an  average  temperature  for  the  hottest  week 
in  summer  of  from  85°  to  90",  and  for  the  coldest  .vcek  in  winter 
from  10°  to  20''  below  zero.  The  moan  annual  average,  for  all 
below  47°  of  latitude,  it  gives  as  40^  Observations  at  St  Paul, 
extending  over  a  period  of  more  than  thirty-five  years,  show  the 
following  mean  temperatures: — spring,  45''"6  ;  summer,  70°"6  ; 
autumn,  40'-9  ;  winter,  16"-1 ;  average,  44*-6.  The  average  annual 
rainfall  is  about  25 '5  iuches.  While  this  is  not  large,  it  is  so 
distributed  as  best  to  subserve  the  purposes  o?  vegetable  growth. 
No  moisture  is  lost  in  superfluous  spring  and  autumn  rains,  or  in 
the  cold  and  non-producing  part  of  the  year,  tJie  precipitation,  whicli 
in  winter  is  less  than  2  inches,  increasing  to  about  12  for  the  sum- 
mer. To  the  season  of  vegetable  growth  belong  70  per  cent,  of  the 
yearly  measures  of  heat,  76  percent,  of  the  rainfidl,  and  76  percent, 
of  the  atmospheric  humidity.  The  prevailing  winds  are  from  the 
wntli  or  south-east.  In  1880  rain  or  snow  fell  on  150  days,  and  in 
1881  on  167.  It  is  evident  that  the  causes  which  mitigate  the  actual 
severity  of  the  climate  as  felt,  which  produce  so  large  a  number  of 
clear  dap,  and  which  forbid  the  continued  presence  of  a  large  amount 
of  mois'turo  in  the  atmosphere,  aro  those  which  ren<ler  a  climate 
hoaltiiful  in  the  highest  degree,  Minnesota  has  been  for  many 
years  a  favourite  resort  for  invalids.  The  curative  properties  of  its 
cUmste  are  especially  marked  in  the  case  of  pulmonary  complaints. 

AgricuHure. — The  leading  industry  of  the  State  is  agriculture. 
The  character  of  the  surface  soil  varies  in  diflerent  parts  of  the 
State  with  the  character  of  the  underlying  strata.  The  fertile  lond 
•qanprises  about  tliree-foui'tha  of  the  eutiro  area  of  the  State.     The 


drift  soil  proper  of  the  south  and  centre,  including  the  MinncaQfir 
valley  and  the  greater  part  of  that  of  the  Mississippi,  contains  silic* 
and  calcareous  matter,  and  is  interspersed  with  alluvial  rivti 
bottora.s.  The  liuicotone  soil,  in  which  there  is  a  large  calcareou* 
element,  lies  chiefly  on  the  western  slope  of  the  Mississippi.  Th« 
Ked  River  valley  consists  of  an  argillaceous  mould,  rich  in  organic 
deposits.  Around  Lake  Superior,  wherever  arable  land  is  to  hi 
found,  it  is  marked  by  a  rich  trap  soil.  North  of  the  central  fertih 
area,  and  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  sources  of  the  Mississippi,  ij 
much  swampy  land,  susceptible  of  ea^y  drainage,  with  a  largo  trad 
of  sand  and  other  drift  detritus,  unfavourable  to  production.  Mair"- 
and  potatoes  flourish,  and  the  uplands,  which  support  hardwood 
ridges,  are  suited  to  general  agriculture.  To  the  extreme  ncrtli 
the  surface,  while  indicating  mineral  wealth,  is  utterly  un6t,  e:;ctpi 
in  occasional  isolated  areas^  for  purposes  of  tillage. 

Wheat  has  hitherto  been  the  staple  product  of  the  State.  Soil 
and  climate  are  such  as  to  ensure  a  large  average  yield,  while  the 
superior  quality  of  the  grain  has  given  it  a  wide  reputation.  Tlie 
otb.er  cereals  are  also  cultivated  wit!i  success.  The  tendency  to 
diversify  agriculture,  especially  in  the  southern  part  of  the  Slate, 
has  been  stimulated  by  several  partial  failures  of  the  wheat  crop, 
the  locust  invasions,  and  the  competition  of  the  farther  north-west. 

The  area  of  the  State  includes  39,791,265  acres  surveyed, 
10,968,575  acres  not  sun'eyed,  and  2,700,000  acres  of  lake  surface. 
Thetotalsalesof  public  and  railroad  lands  in  1879  and  1880  were  not 
far  from  4,000,000  acres.  It  is  estimated  that  the  aggregate  oi 
lands  yet  undisposed  of,  three-fourths  of  which  may  be  prof]^ably 
cultivated,  is  nearly  20,000,000  acres,  exclusive  of  the  lands  belong- 
ing to  the  State.  White  Earth  Indian  reservation  has  thirty-six 
townships  of  prairie  and  timber  land  ;  and  Red  Lake  reservation 
contains  3,200,000  acres. 

Forestry. — A  special  census  bulletin  estimates  the  amount  ol 
merchantable  white  pine  standing.  May  31,  1880,  as  amounting  in 
all  to  6,100,000,000  feet.  The  entire  cut  for  the  census  year  1880 
was  540,997,000  feet.  Of  hardwood  forest  3,840,000  acres  remain, 
capable  of  yielding  57,600,000  cords  of  wood. 

Every  encouragement  is  afforded,  both  by  the  railway  coi-pora- 
tions  and  the  State,  to  tree-idanting  on  the  prairies.  A  quarter 
section  is  given  to  any  one  who  will  plant  and  keep  in  good  condi* 
tion  40  acres  of  timber  for  eight  years.  In  ISSO  there  were  planted 
25,331  acres  of  trees,  exclusive  of  those  bordering  highways  and 
the  windbreaks  along  the  railroad  lines. 

Manufactures. — The  manufactures  of  Slinnesota  are  yet  in  their 
infancy.  The  abundant  water-power  of  the  State,  its  proximity  to 
the  coal-fields  of  Iowa,  its  superior  transportation  facilities,  and  the 
large  demand  for  manufactured  commodities  are,  however,  rapidly 
developing  this  branch  of  industry.  The  most  important  industries 
are  the  manufacture  of  flour  and  t^iat  of  lumber.  The  former  natu- 
rally established  itself  in  aState  of  immense  wheat  yield  and  abundant 
water-power.  It  received  its  greatest  stimulus  from  the  invention 
and  adoption  of  the  middlings  purifying  process,  which  produces 
the  highest  grade  of  flour,  and  to  which  the  hard  spring  wheat  of 
Minnesota  is  especially  adapted.  Among  other  manufacturing 
industries  actively  prosecuted  are  the  makin^  of  brick,  pottcrj", 
stoneware,  and  agricultural  implements,  and  also  meat-packiug. 

Commerce. — The  geographical  position  of  Jlinncsota  gives  it  ex- 
tensive commercial  interests.  Two  continental  waterways  tcrmiuutc 
within  the  State.  The  Mississippi  affords  continuous  navigation 
to  European  jwrts  during  eight  months  of  the  ye.-.r.  From  Duluth 
numerous  lines  of  vessels  traverse  the  chain  of  great  lakes,  nud, 
transport  the  products  of  the  west  to  the  eastern  seaboard.  Tlirce 
great  transcontinental  railway  lines  are  connected  more  or  less 
directly  with  the  railroad  system  of  the  State.  Twelve  lines  of  rail- 
way from  every  part  of  Minnesota  converge  at  the  contiguous  cities 
of  St  Paul  and  Minneapolis,  and  three  great  trunk  lines  from  thes« 
centres  to  Chicago  secure  the  advantages  of  a  lively  competition. 

Education. — The  common  school  system  is  supported  by  land 
grants,  a  local  tax,  and  a  State  tKX.  The  superintendent  of  in- 
struction is  appointed  by  the  governor.  County  superintendents 
aro  chosen  by  popular  vote.  Common  school  districts  have  boards 
of  three  trustees  each.  Six  directors  are  ajipointed  for  indeiiendeut 
districts.  The  permanent  fund  in  1881  was  §4,850,000,  am\  the 
current  fund  $260,835.  The  State  university,  located  at  Minnea- 
polis, is  governed  by  a  board  of  regents,  consisting  of  the  governor 
of  the  State,  the  superintendent  of  public  instruction,  the  president 
of  tlie  university,  and  six  others  ;  both  sexes  aro  admitted,  and 
tuition  is  free.  The  State  supports  three  normal  schools.  Forty- 
two  academies  and  six  colleges  are  sustained  by  denominational  or 
private  enterprise. 

Administration. — The  departments  of  Government  are,  as  in  all 
the  States,  tlie  legislative,  tlie  executive,  and  the  judicial.  The 
State  contains  seventy-eight  counties,  of  which  some  are  still 
subject  to  change  of  boundary.  From  these  nre  elected  by  district* 
forty-seven  senators  and  one  hundred  and  three  members  of  the 
House  of  Representatives.  The  State  officers  arc  a  governor, 
lieutenant-governor.  Recretary  of  state,  treasurer,  and  nttorney- 
gencral,  all  elected  by  the  t)Oople.     The  term  of  oflfice  is  two  yeara. 


M  I  N  —  M  I  N 


477 


ThP  governor  has  power  to  veto  separate  items  of  a  money  bill  The 
judiciary  is  elective,  and  the  term  of  ofDce  seven  years.  The  State 
i-cquirements  for  citizenship  are  residence  in  the  United  States 
one  year,  in  the  State  four  months,  and  in  the  election  district 
tci)  days  preceding  an  election.  Women  are  allowed  to  vote  for 
school  omcers  and  upon  questions  relating  to  the  management  of 
sciiools,  and  are  also  eligible  to  such  offices.  No  county  can  con- 
tain more  than  400  square  miles.  The  legislature  meets  biennially. 
Extra  sessions  may  be  called,  but  uo  session  can  exceed  sixty  days 
in  length.  Under  the  last  apportionment  the  State  is  entitled  to 
live  representatives  in  the  national  Congress. 

The  annual  valuation  of  property  for  18S2,  as  equalized  by  the 
State  board,  gives  the  personal  property  as  $79,219,445,  the  real 
estate  $242,938,170.  This  represents  a  total  actual  value  of  not  far 
from  S75O,O0O,O_00. 

While  Minnesota  \,-aa  still  a  Territory,  but  after  it  had  adopted 
a  State  constitution,  an  amendment  was  added  to  the  constitution 
authorizing  the  issue  of  a  large  amount  of  bonds  in  aid  of  railway 
construction.  Shortly  afterwards,  the  companies  having  failed  to 
fulfil  their  contracts  and  defaulted  payment,  tl\e  State  foreclosed 
its  mortgage  oa  tlio  lands,  f i"auchises,  kc ,  of  the  roads,  and  turned 
them  over  to  other  companies.  By  another  amendment  to  the 
constitution,  the  payment  of  the  bonds  was  made  contingent  ujpon 
the  rfesult  of  a  popular  vote.  Several  proposals  having  failed  to 
receive  this  sanction,  the  necessity  for  it  was  removed  in  1881  by  a 
decision  of  the  supreme  court,  declaring  the  amendment  uncon- 
stitutional. The  legislature  immediately  met,  accepted  a  plan  of 
settlement  proposed  by  the  bondholders  themselves,  and  over 
94,000,000  worth  of  new  bonds  were  issued  in  exchange  for  the  old. 
For  the  payment  of  the  principal  and  interest  of  these  the  people 
have  voted  (November  1882)  to  set  aside  as  a  sinking  fund  the 
proceeds  of  500,000  acres  of  land  belonging  to  the  State  internal 
improvement  fund,  the  deficit  to  be  paid  out  of  the  tax  on  railroad 
e,iniiugs.  The.se  bonds  include  all  the  State  debt  except  about 
3200,000.  A  tax  of  3  per  cent,  imposed  on  the  gross  earnings  of 
all  railroads  within  the  State  will  soon  meet  all  expenses  except 
provision  for  educational,  penal,  and  charitable  iiistitutions. 

Populalioii.  —  T\\i  poimlation  of  the  State  was  6077  at  the  census 
ofl850,  172,023  in  1860,  439,706  in  1870,  and  780,773(419,149 
males  and  361,624  females)  in  1880.  According  to  the  last  census 
299,800  whites  had  been  bovn  in  the  State;  and  of  the  267,676 
foreign-born  iuhabitauts  of  the  State  107,770  came  from  Scandina- 
vian countries  and  68, 277  from  the  United  Kingdom  and  the  British 
colonies,  while  77,505  acknowledge  the  German  as  their  native 
tongue.  The  increase  of  population  in  the  State  for  the  last  decade 
of  yeai-s  alone  was  75  per  cent.  The  most  important  cities  are  St 
Paul,  the  capital,  and  Minneapolis,  with  41,473  and  46,887  inhabit- 
ants respectively  in  1880;  Winona  had  10,208  and  Stillwater  9055. 

History. — Missionary  efforts  and  the  trading  spirit  fii-st  induced 
white  men  to  venture  as  far  into  the  unexplored  north-west  as  the 
boundaries  of  what  is  now  the  State  of  Minnesota.  The  earliest 
accounts  of  its  natural  features  and  native  tribes  appear  in  the 
Jesuit  writings.  The  "Relations"  of  1670-71  allude  to  the  Sioux 
ovDakotas.  In  1678  a  company  was  formed  for  trading  with  this 
tribe.  Du  Luth  was  leader  of  this  expedition,  and  later  on  went 
fi-om  Lake  Snpeiior  to  the  Mississippi  by  canoe.  But  the  first  pub- 
lished account  is  that  of  Louis  Heunepiu,  a  Recollect  monk,  who, 
in  1680,  visited  the  falls  of  St  Anthony,  and  gave  them  their  name, 
from  that  of  his  patron  saint.  For  a  century  the  only  visitants 
of  the  wild  region  were  a  few  missionaries,  and  a  number  of  fur 
ti-aders  who  found  the  profit  of  the  journey  to  more  than  counter- 
balance its  perils  and  hardships.  To  the  latter  class  belong  PeiTOt, 
who  reached  the  Mississippi  by  way  of  the  Fox  and  Wisconsin  in 
1684,  and  founded  at  Lake  Pepin  the  first  trading  post  in  the  State, 
and  Le  Sueur,  a  Canadian,  who  ascended  the  gi'eat  river  from  its 
mouth,  and  established  another  post  above  Lake  Pepin.  Captain 
John  Carver,  the  explorer  of  the  country  of  the  upper  Mississippi, 
visited  the  falls  of  St  Anthony  in  1766,  being  the  hrst  British  tra- 
veller who  reached  the  spot.  On  March  20,  1804,  Upper  Louisiana 
was  organized,  consisting  of  Arkansas,  Missouri,  Iowa,  and  a  large 
portion  of  Minnesota.  From  this  time  onwards  the  progress  of  explo- 
ration was  rapid,  and  settlement  followed  in  its  tr,ain.  The  first 
really  extensive  exploration  of  any  large  part  of  what  is  now 
Minnesota  was  made  between  1817  and  1823,  by  Major  S.  H.  Long, 
of  the  United  States  engineer  corps,  in  command  of  a  Government 
expedition.  About  the  same  time  the  Red  River  received  its  fii-st 
visitant  Thomas  Douglas,  earl  of  Selkirk,  an  Englishman  of 
eccentric  character,  went,  in  1817,  to  what  is  now  Winnipeg,  by 
w.iy  of  York  river.  Having  been  struck  with  the  agricultural 
possibilities  of  the  region  about  the  Red  River  of  the  North,  he 
,  induced  a  colony  of  Swiss  farmers  to  settle  there.  Thee  were  dis- 
appointed in  the  country,  and  unused  to  the  severity  of  the  climate, 
so  that  they  finally  removed  to  the  vicinity  of  St  Paul  and  con- 
tributed to  the  earliest  development  of  the  agricultural  in- 
dustry of  the  State.  In  1821  Colonel  Snelling  built,  at  the 
junction  of  the  ifinnesota  and  MLiisissippi  rivers,  a  stronghold 
which  he  nonied  Fort  St  Anthony.     The  name  was  changed  to  Fort  , 


SncUing  in  his  honour,  in  1824,  and  the  fort  is  still  an  important 
post  as  a  b.ise  of  si-pplies  for  the  newer  north-west  The  fin* 
steamboat  made  its  appearance  at  the  head  of  navigation  in  1823. 
The  settlement  of  St  Paul,  one  of  the  oldest  towns  as  well  as  th« 
capital,  is  commonly  dated  from  1 846,  at  which  time  there  were  a  few 
shanties  on  its  site.  Population  now  began  to  a:Tive  in  constantly 
increasing  numbers,  and  on  March  3,  1849,  a  bill  passed  Congress  foe 
organizing  the  Territory.  It  was  proposed  at  one  time  to  name  it 
Itasca,  but  the  name  Minnesota,  meaning,  "sky-tinted  water," 
and  originally  applied  to  the  river  bearing  that  title,  was  fmtily 
retained.  The  western  boundary  of  the  territory  was  fixed  at  th« 
Missouri  river.  The  population  was  but  4057,  the  largest  town 
had  but  a  few  hundred  inhabitants,  and  a  large  part  of  the  soil  of 
the  State  still  belonged  to  the  Indians.  But  progress  now  began  in 
earnest.  A  constitution  was  adopted  in  1857,  and  on  May  11,  1858, 
Minnesota  was  admitted  as  a  State,  with  a  population,  according 
to  the  last  Territorial  census,  of  150,037. 

One  of  the  first  acts  of  the  new  State  was  the  issue  of  the  rail- 
road bonds  noticed  above.  Soon  after  came  the  civil  war.  Within 
two  months  of  Lincoln's  first  call  for  troops  the  first  Minnesota 
regiment,  over  one  thousand  strong,  was  mustei-ed  into  service.  By 
August  of  1862  ten  regiments  had  been  called  for  and  furnished.  la 
all,  the  State  supplied  to  the  armies  of  tlieUnion  25,052  men,  or  about 
one-seventh  of  its  entire  population  at  the  outbreak  of  the  war. 

In  the  meantime  there  occurred,  in  1862,  the  horrible  outbreak 
known  as  the  Sioux  massacre.  Settlements  were  cut  off,  isolated 
settlers  murdered,  and  even  a  strong  post  like  Fort  Ridgely  was 
attacked.  The  outbreak  spread  over  a  large  portion  of  the  State; 
several  severe  engagements  were  fought ;  and  it  was  not  until  the 
State  had  a  thoroughly  equipped  military  force  ready  for  the  cam- 
paign that  the  Indians  begun  to  flee  or  to  give  themselves  up.  By 
this  time  over  700  persons  had  been  murdered,  200,  chiefly  women, 
taken  captive  ;  eighteen  counties  were  ravaged,  and  30,000  people 
were  homeless.     Ihe  property  loss  was  not  less  than  $3,000,000. 

During  these  local  and  national  disturbances  the  matei"ial  pro- 
sperity ot  the  State  was  unabated.  Notwithstanding  the  heavy  cost 
of  the  civil  war  and  the  Sioux  massacre,  the  census  of  1865  showed 
a  population  of  250,099.  Railroad  construction  began  to  be  ener- 
getically carried  forward ;  in  1870  329  miles  were  made  and  lOttf 
miles  were  in  operation  ;  a  road  to  Lake  Superior  was  completed, 
and  the  Northern  Pacific  was  fairly  under  way.  In  1873-76,  and 
to  some  extent  in  1877,  successive  visitations  of  locusts  destroyed 
the  crops  of  the  south-western  counties.  The  sufferers  wens 
relieved  by  the  Stat,e,  and  no  repetition  of  the  scourge  has  since  been 
experienced.  (J.  G.  P.) 

MINNOW  (Leuciscu3  plioximn  or  Phoxinus  Ixvis)  is  the 
smallest  British  Cyprinoid,  readily  distinguished  by  its 
very  small  scales.  It  is  abundant  in  rivers,  brooks,  and 
lakes,  always  swimming  in  schools,  and  shifting  its  ground 
in  search  of  food,  which  consists  of  every  kind  of  vegetable 
and  animal  substance.  It  ranges  from  southern  Euroiie 
to  Scandinavia,  and  from  Ireland  into  north-eastern  Asia ; 
in  the  Aljis  it  attains  to  a  higher  altitude  than  any  other 
Cyprinoid,  viz.,  to  ffearly  8000  feet.  Its  usual  size  varies 
between  2  and  3  inches ;  but  in  suitable  localities,  especially 
in  Germany,  it  is  known  to  reach  a  length  of  from  4  to  5 
inches.  The  colours  varj-  with  age  and  season ;  a  series  of 
dark  spots  or  cross-bands  along  the  sides  is  always  present, 
but  the  males  assume  in  summer  a  nuptial  dress  of  scarlet 
or  pvirple  on  the  lower  parts  of  the  head  and  body. 
The  minnow  is  used  as  bait ;  it  can  also  be  introduced 
with  facility  and  with  great  advantage  into  ponds  in  which 
there  is  otherwise  a  scarcity  of  food  for  more  valuable 
fishes,  such  as  trout,  perch,  and  pike. 

MINO  DI  GIOVANNI  (1431-1486),  caUed  da  Fiesole, 
was  bom  at  Poppi  in  the  Casentino  in  1431.  He  had 
property  at  Fiesole,  whence  his  usual  name.  Vasari'a 
account  of  him  is  very  inaccurate  and  full  of  contradictions. 
Mino  was  a  friend  and  fellow-worker  both  with  D.  da 
Settignano  and  Matteo  Civitale,  all  three  being  about  the 
same  age.  There  is  considerable  similarity  in  their  works, 
showing  mutual  influence.  Mino's  sculpture  is  remarkable 
for  its  gem-like  finish  and  extreme  delicacy  of  detail,  as 
■well  as  for  its  spirituality  and  strong  devotional  feeling. 
No  other  sculptor  portrayed  the  virginal  purity  of  the 
Madonna  or  the  soft  infant  beauty  of  the  Divine  Child  with 
greater  tenderness  and  refinement.  Of  Mino's  earlier 
ivorks.  the  finest  are  in  the  duomo  of  Fiesole,  the  altarpiece 


478 


M  I  N  —  ]\i  1  :n. 


and  tomb  of  Bishop  Salutati,  executed  abotit  1464.  In 
the  Badia  of  Florence  are  some  of  Mino's  most  important 
sculptures — an  altarpiece,  and  the  tombs  of  Bernardo 
Giugni,  1466,  and  the  Margrave  Hugo,  1481 — all  sculp- 
tured in  white  marble,  with  beaiitiful  life-sized  recumbent 
eflSgies  and  attendant  angels.  The  pulpit  in  Prato 
cathedral,  finished  in  1473,  is  very  delicately  scidptured, 
,with  bas-reliefs  of  great  minuteness,  but  somewhat  weakly 
designed.     Soon  after  the  completion  of  this  work  Mino 

Eid  a  visit  of  some  years  to  Rome,  where  he  executed 
feral  fine  pieces  of  sculpture,  such  as  the  tomb  of  Pope 
,ul  IL  (now  in  the  crj^Jt  of  St  Peter's),  the  tomb  of 
I"rancesco  Tornabuoni  in  S.  Maria  Sopra  jlinerva,  and  a 
jbeautiful  little  marble  tabernacle  for  the  holy  oils  in 
6.  Maria  in  Trastevere.  There  can  be  little  doubt  that  he 
was  also  the  sculptor  of  several  of  the  very  lovely  monu- 
ments in  S.  Maria  del  Popolo,  especially  those  in  the 
sacristy  of  Bishop  Gomiel  and  Archbishop  Kocca,  1482, 
and  the  marble  reredos,  also  in  the  sacristy,  given  by  Pope 
Alexander  VL  Some  of  Mino's  portrait  busts  and  delicate 
profile  bas-reliefs  are  preserved  in  the  Bargello  at  Florence  ; 
they  are  full  of  life  and  expression,  though  without  the 
ejrtreme  realism  of  Verrocchio  and  other  sculptors  of  his 
time.     He  died  in  1486. 

See  Tasari,  Milanesi's  ed.,  1878-82;  Peikino,  Italian  Smtpiors; 
WiQckelmaun  and  D'Agincourt,  Storia  delta  ScuUura,  1813. 

MINOR.     See  Infant. 

MINORCA.     See  Baleaeic  Islands. 

MINORITES.     See  Feakmscajjb. 

MINOS,  a  legendary  king  of  Crete,  in  whom  both 
historical  and  religious  elements  are  united.  The  historical 
element  lies  in  the  fact  that  an  early  civilization  and  mari- 
time power  had  its  seat  in  Crete.  The  Phojnician  inter- 
com-se  played  a  great  part  in  developing  this  island  state, 
and  Minos  is  sometimes  called  a  Phoenician.  The  name  Minoa 
is  often  found  where  Phojnician  influence  was  strongest, 
e.ff.,  at  Megara.  The  laws  and  constitution  which  existed 
from  a  very  early  time  in  Crete  were  attributed  to  Minos, 
to  whom  they  were  revealed  by  Zeus.  After  his  death  he 
became  the  judge  of  the  dead ;  he  is  one  of  the  forms 
assumed  by  the  old  conception  of  the  first  man,  who  is 
after  death  king  and  god  among  the  dead.  It  is  therefore 
highly  probable  that  the  name  Minos  is  the  Greek  form  of 
the  original  Manva,  i.e.,  "  endowed  with  thinking,"  which 
is  seen  in  the  Hindu  Manu  and  the  Germanic  Mann.  As 
in  all  other  heroized  forms  of  the  god  of  the  dead,  there 
is  both  a  terrible  and  a  wise  and  beneficent  side  in  the 
character  of  Minos.  Cretan  legends  described  him  as  the 
Avild  huntsman  of  the  fore.sts  and  mountains,  the  lover  of 
the  nymphs,  though  his  love  means  death  to  them.  His 
death  is  localized  in  the  far  west,  in  the  land  of  sunset ; 
his  grave  was  shown  at  Camicus  near  Agrigentum,  attached 
to  a  temple  of  Aphrodite.  He  pursued  Diedalus  thither, 
and  the  daughters  of  Cocalus,  the  king  of  Agrigentum, 
killed  him  by  pouring  boiling  water  over  him  in  the  bath, 
au  obvious  mj-th  of  the  sun  dying  in  the  sea.  Jlinos,  the 
god  of  the  dead,  is,  according  to  the  usual  nU»,  the  sun-god, 
who  goes  to  illumine  the  dead  when  he  dies  on  the  earth. 
His  wife  is  Pasiphae,  the  moon-goddess,  who  had  an  oracle 
by  dreams  at  Thalamre  in  Laconia.  The  union  of  the  sun 
and  the  moon,  the  buU  and  the  cow,  gave  rise  to  many 
quaint  and  ugly  legend.^  :  Pasiphae  loved  the  buU  of  Minos, 
was  aided  by  the  stratagem  of  Daedalus,  and  gave  birth  to 
the  Minotaur,  half  bull  and  half  man.  The  Minotaur  is 
one  of  those  monstrous  forms  which  were  suggested  to  the 
•Gfreek  fancy  by  the  quaint  animals  .common  in  Oriental 
t)rt.  It  was  shut  up  in  the  L.vbvrittii  (7.I.),  which  was 
•■onstructed  by  the  skilled  artist  Dicdalus.  Now  a  son  of 
Min^s  named  Androgens  had  been  killed  by  the  Athenians, 
*nd.Minos  as  a  punishment  required  that  seven  Athenian 


youths  and  seven  maidens  should  be  sent  every  ninth  year 
and  given  up  to  the  Minotaur  to  be  devoured.  When  this 
sacrifice  took  place  for  the  third  time  Theseus  came  as  one 
of  the  hostages,  and  slew  the  Minotaur  with  the  help  of 
Ariadne.  Throughout  these  legends  we  see  the  close 
relation  of  Minos  to  the  Phanician  sun-god  Melkarthj  and 
perceive  the  way  in  which  different  places  where  Phoenician 
influence  can  be  traced,  Athens,  Sicily,  ic,  are  brought 
together  in  religious  m}'ths. 

MINOTAUR.     See  Minos. 

MINSK,  a  western  government  of  Russia,  is  bounded 
by  Vilna,  Vitebsk,  and  MoghilefE  on  the  N.  and  E.,  and 
by  Tchernigoff,  Kicff,  Volhynia,  and  Grodno  on  the  S. 
and  W.,  and  has  an  area  of  35,175  square  miles.  The 
surface  is  undulatmg  and  hilly  in  the  north-west,  where  a 
naiTov/  plateau  and  a  range  of  hills  of  the  Tertiary  forma- 
tion runs  to  the  north-east,  separating  the  ba.sin  of  the 
Niemen,  which  flows  into  the  Baltic,  from  that  of  the 
Dnieper,  which  sends  its  waters  into  the  Black  Sea.  The 
range,  which  averages  from  800  to  1000  feet,  culminates  in 
Lysaya  Gora  (1129  feet).  The  remainder  of  the  province 
is  flat,  450  to  650  feet  above  the  sea-level,  covered  with 
sands  and  clays  of  the  glacial  and  post-glacial  periods.  Two 
broad  shallow  depressions,  drained  by  the  Berezina  and  the 
Pripet,  cross  the  province  froui  north  to  south  and  from 
west  to  east;  and  these,  as  well  as  the  triangular  space 
between  them,  are  covered  with  immense  marshes  (oi'teti 
occupying  200  to  600  square  miles),  numberless  ponds  ar.d 
small  lakes,  peat-bogs,  downs,  and  moving  sands,  as  well 
as  with  dense  forests.  This  country,  and  especially  its 
south-western  part,  is  usually  known  under  the  name  of 
Polyesie  ("  The  Woods ").  Altogether,  marshes  take  up 
15  per  cent,  and  marshy  forests  no  less  than  55  per  cent, 
of  the  entire  area  of  the  province  (60  to  71  per  cent,  in 
several  districts).  The  forests,  however,  consist  cf  full- 
grown  trees  in  the  higher  districts  of  the  north- v\  st 
only,  those  which  occupy  the  marshy  ground  consisting  'A 
small  and  stunted  pine,  birch,  and  aspen.  The  climate  of 
the  Polyesie  is  harsh  and  extremely  unhealthy ;  malarias 
and  an  endemic  disease  of  the  bulbs  of  the  hair  {koltir.i, 
plica  Polonica)  are  the  plagues  of  these  tracts,  the  evil 
being  intensified  by  the  dreadful  poverty  of  the  popula- 
tion. Communication  is  very  difficult.  The  railway  from 
Poland  to  Moscow  has,  so  far  asJMinsk  is  concerned,  taken 
advantage  of  the  plateau  above  mentioned  ;  but  still  it  has 
to  cross  the  broad  marshy  depression  of  the  Berezina.  A 
successful  attempt  was  recently  made  to  drain  the  mar.-hes 
of  the  Polyesie  by  a  system  of  canals,  and  more  than 
4,500,000  acres  have  thus  been  rendered  suitable  for  patture 
and  agi'icidture.  Txvo  great  tributaries  of  the  Dnieper,  the 
Berezina  and  the  Pripet,  both  navigable,  with  numberless 
subtributaries,  many  of  which  are  also  navigable,  are  the 
natural  outlets  for  the  marshes  of  the  province.  The 
Dnieper  flows  along  its  south-eastern  border  for  160  miles, 
and  the  Niemen  on  the  north-western  for  130  miles.  The 
affluents  of  the  Baltic,  the  Duna  (Dwina),  and  the  Vistula  arc 
connected  by  three  canals  with  tributaries  of  the  Dnieper. 
The  population  of  the  province  (1.183,200  in  1873)  may 
be  estimated  at  about  1,350,060,  mostly  A\Tiite  Russians 
(67  per  cent.);  there  are  also  Poles  (about  11  per  cent.), 
especially  in  the  western  districts,  Jews  (more  than  10 
per  cent.),  Little  Russians  (5  per  cent.),  and  Russians  (2  jicr 
cent.).  About  70,000  are  considered  to  bo  Lithuanians  ; 
there  are  also  4000  Tartars,  whose  presence  can  be  ti.iojd 
to  the  raids  of  their  ancestors  on  Litnuania  in  the  liUli 
century,  and  about  2000  German  agriculturists  who  settled 
in  last  century 

The  chief  occupation  of  the  inhabitants  is  agriculture,  which  is, 
however,  verv  unjiroihictive  in  tlic  lowlands ;  in  tho  Polyesie  the 
peasants  rarely  ha\'o  pure  licad  to  cat.     Only  23 '8  i>cr  cent,  of  tli'. 


M  I  N  — M  I  N 


479 


»rea  is  tmJrt  wops,  the  arerago  yield  being  1,600,000  qnartcrs  of 
com  and  1,170,000  quarters  ot  potatoes.  Cattlebrecdiug  is  very 
imperfectly  developed,  the  meadows  being  marehy  throughout  the 
lowlands.  Hunting  and  bee-keeping  are  sources  of  income  iu  the 
Polyesie,  and  fialiing  gives  occui)atioii  to  about  twenty  thousand 
persons.  The  chief  source^f  Income  for  the  inhabitants  of  tho  low- 
lands is  the  timber  trade.  Timber  is  floated  down  the  rivers,  and 
tar,  pitch,  various  products  of  bark,  potash,  charcoal,  and  numerous 
eorts  of  timber- ware  (wooden  dishes,  tc. )  are  manufactured  in  villages 
to  a  gieat  extent ;  and  shipbuilding  is  carried  on  along  tho  Dnieper, 
Pripet,  and  Niomen.  Shipping  is  also  an  important  source  of 
income,  owing  to  the  traffic  on  the  canals  and  rivers  of  the  province. 
In  1877  5G0  boats  and  1120  rafts  with  170,000  m-ts.  of  cargo  left 
the  banlis  of  the  Berezina  and  Pripet ;  and  the  traffic  on  the  Dnieper 
and  Niemen  was  nearly  as  gi-eat.  The  industrial  arts  are  almost 
entirely  undeveloped.  There  are,  however,  several  distilleries  and 
tanneries  ;  and  woollen-stuffs,  candles,  tobacco,  and  sugar  are  manu- 
factured to  a  limited  extent.  Com  is  exported  from  the  western 
districts,  but  imported  to  the  same  amount  into  the  southern  parts  ; 
the  chief  export  trade  is  in  produce  of  forest  industries.  The  pro- 
vince is  crossed  by  two  important  railways,  one  of  which  connects 
Poland  with  Moscow,  an(f  the  other  Libau  and  Vilna  with  the 
provinces  of  i,ittle  Russia;  the  great  highway  from  Warsaw  to 
Moscow  crosses  the  province  ill  the  south,  and  its  passage  through 
tho  Berezina  is  protected  by  the  fiist-class  fortress  of  Bobruisk. 
Minsk  is  divided  into  nine  districts,  of  which  the  capitals  are — 
Minsk(43,S0O  inhabitants),  Bobruisk  (26,850),  Borisoff(5650),  close 
by  the  place  where  Napoleon  I.  crossed  the  Berezina  on  his  retreat 
from  Moscow,  Igumcn  (2200),  JilozjT  (42001,  Novogrodek  (9000), 
Pinsk  (18,000),  Ryechitea  (4300),  and  Slutsk  (17,200).  Tho  pro- 
vince is  well  provided  with  secondary  schools,  but  primary  edu- 
tation,  especially  in  the  Polyesie,  is  in  a  very  backward  state. 

Tho  country  now  occupied  by  the  province  of  Ihliijsk  was,  as  far 
as  historical  records  extend,  an  abode  of  Slavonians.  That  portion 
of  it  which  was  occupied  by  the  Krivichi  became  part  of  the  Polotsk 
principality  and  so  of  "  White  Russia"  ;  the  other  portion,  occu- 
pied by  the  Dregoviclu  and  Drevlans,  became  part  of  the  *' Black 
Russia "  ;  whilst  the  south-western  portion  of  it  was  occupied  by 
Yatvyags  or  Litliuanians.  Duiiiig  the  12th,  13th,  and  14tli  cen- 
turies it  was  divi<lcd  among  several  pvineip.alities,  which  were  in- 
corporated with  the  great  principality  of  Lithuania,  and  later  were 
annexed  to  Poland.  Russia  took  possession  of  this  country  iu 
1793.     Ill  1812  it  was  invaded  by  the  army  of  Napoleon  I. 

Minsk,  the  capital  of  the  above  province,  is  situated 
0-1  the  Svislocb,  a  tributary  of  the  Berezina,  at  the 
junction  of  tlie  JIoscow  and  AVarsaw  and  the  Libau 
and  KharkofE  railways,  465  miles  by  rail  west  from 
Moscow.  It  has  43,500  inhabitants,  of  whom  one-third 
are  Jews  of  the  poorest  class;  the  others  are  AVhite 
Russians,  Polos,  and  Tartars  (about  700).  The  manufac- 
tures are  few  and  insignificant.  Since  the  introduction  of 
railways  the  commercial  importance  of  the  place,  which 
formerly  was  slight,  has  begun  to  increase. 

Minsk  is  mentioned  in  Russian  annals  in  the  11th  century  under 
the  name  of  Jlycn'sk  or  Jlenesk.  In  1066  and  109C  it  was  dovas- 
(ated,  first  by  Izyaslav  and  afterwards  by  Vladimir.  It  changed 
mlcra  many  times  until  the  13th  century,  when  it  became  a  Litliu- 
aiiiaii  fief.  In  the  15th  century  it  became  part  of  Poland,  but  as  late 
as  1505  it  was  ravaged  by  Tartars,  and  in  1508  by  Russians.  In  the 
1 8th  century  it  was  taken  several  times  by  Swedes  and  Russians. 
Russia  annexed  it  in  1793.     Napoleon  I.  took  it  in  1812. 

MINSTREL.     The    "minstrels,"  according  to    Bishop 
Percy,  "  were  an  order  of  men  in  the  Middle  Ages  who 
united  the  arts  of  poetry  and  music,  and  sang  verses  to  the 
harp  of  their  own  composing,  who  appear  to  have  accom- 
panied their  songs  with  mimicry  and  action,  and  to  have 
practised  such  various  means  of  diverting  as  were  much 
admired  in  those  rude  times,  and  supplied  the  want  of  more 
refined  entertainments."    This  conception  of  the  "minstrel  "  . 
has  been  generally  accepted  in  England  ever  since  Percy 
published  his  Seli'iues  of  Aiirient  Foelry,  which  he  gave  to 
the  world  as  the  products  of  the  genius  of  these  anonymous  ' 
popular  poets  and  harpers.     The  name  has  been  fixed  in 
the  language  by  the  usage  of  romantic  poets  and  novelists  ;  j 
•  Scott's  "last  minstrel"  and  Moore's  "minstrel  boy"  were 
minstrels  in  Percy's  sense  of  the  word.     The  imagination  I 
was  fascinated  by  this  romantic  figure,  and  the  laborious 
and  soured  antiquary  Eitson  argued  in  vain  that  nobody 
b«fore  Bishop  Percy  had  ever  applied  the  word  minstrel  to  I 
euch  an  order  of  men,  that  no  such  order  of  men  e\er  did  ' 


exist  in  medieeval  England,  and  that  the  historical  English 
"  minstrels,"  so-called,  were  a  much  less  gifted  and  respect- 
able class,  being  really  instrumental  musicians,  either 
retainers  or  strollers. 

The  dispute  between  Ritson  and  Percy  was  partly  a  dis- 
pute about  a  word,  and  partly  a  dispute  about  historical 
facts;  and  there  can  be  little  doubt  that  Ritson  was  substan- 
tially right  in  both  respects.  The  romantic  bishop  trans- 
ferred to  the  mediaeval  English  minstrel  the  social  status 
and  brilliant  gifts  of  the  Anglo;Saxon  gleoman  or  scop,  and 
the  French  troubadour  in  the  flourishing  period  of  Proven9al 
poetry.  Thatthegleemen  sang  tDthe  harpversesof  their  own 
composing,  that  some  of  them  travelled  from  court  to  court 
as  honoured  guests,  while  others  were  important  attached 
court  officials,  and  all  received  costly  presents,  is  a  well 
attested  historical  fact.  The  household  bard  at  Heorot  in 
the  poem  of  Beowulf,  a  man  who  bore  many  things  in  mind 
and  found  skilfully  linked  words  to  express  them,  was  one 
of  King  Hrothgar's  thanes  ;  the  gleeman  of  the  Traveller't 
Song  had  visited  all  the  tribal  chiefs  of  Europe,  and  received 
many  precious  gifts,  rings  and  bracelets  of  gold.  The 
incidents  in  these  poems  may  not  be  historic,  but  they 
furnish  indubitable  testimony  to  the  social  position  of  the 
gleeman  in  those  days ;  a  successful  gleeman  was  as  much 
honoured  as  a  modern  poet-laureate,  and  as  richly  rewarded 
as  a  fashionable  prima  donna.  Further,  the  strolling  glee- 
man of  a  humbler  class  seems  to  have  been  respected  as  a 
non-combatant;  this  much  we  may  infer  from  the  stories 
about  Alfred  and  AnlaS  having  penetrated  an  enemy's 
camp  in  the  disguise  of  gleemen,  whether  these  stories  are 
true  or  not,  for  otherwise  they  would  not  have  beea 
invented.  The  position  of  poets  and  singers  in  Provenco 
from  the  11th  to  the  13th  century  i.s  still  clearer.  The 
classification  of  them  by  King  Alphonso  of  Castile  in  1273, 
by  which  time  honourable  designations  were  getting  mixed, 
may  help  to  determine  the  exact  position  of  the  English 
"minstrel."  There  was  first  the  lowest  class,  the  Oufos, 
who  strolled  among  the  common  people,  singing  ribald 
songs,  playing  on  instruments,  showing  feats  of  skill  and 
strength,  e.xhibiting  learned  dogs  and  goats,  and  so  forth ; 
then  the  joc/lars  or  jocufatores,  who  played,  sang,  recited, 
conjured,  men  of  versatile  powers  of  entertainment,  who 
performed  at  the  houses  of  the  nobility,  and  were  liberally 
remunerated ;  then  the  irohadors,  or  inventores,  whose  dis- 
tinction it  was  to  compose  verses,  whether  or  not  they  had 
sufficient  executive  facidty  to  sing  or  recite  them. 

If  we  compare  these  distinctions  with  Percy's  definition 
of  the  minstrel,  we  see  that  his  minstrel  would  have  corre- 
sponded with  the  jor/lar,  who  also  wrote  his  own  songs  and 
recitations.  Now  in  the  palmy  days  of  Provencal  scng 
there  were  many  professional  joglars,  such  as  Arnaut 
Daniel  or  Perdigo,  who  stood  high  among  the  most  brilliant 
troubadours,  and  visited  on  terms  of  social  equality  with 
nobles  and  princes.  But  long  before  Englisli  became  the 
court  language  the  fashion  had  disappeared,  and  a  new 
division  of  functions  had  been  developed.  In  Chaucer's 
time  the  poet  of  society  no  longer  sang  his  verses  to  harp 
or  fiddle,  or  amused  his  patrons  witli  feats  of  legerdemain  ; 
the  king's  r/eslour  (teller  of  tfes/rs)  discharged  tlie  profes- 
sional duty  of  amusing  with  witty  stories  ;  and  the  social 
position  of  the  Joylar  had  very  much  sunk.  Ritson  \vas 
perfectly  right  in  saying  that  no  English  poet  of  any  social 
position  was  a  professional  reciter  to  the  harp  of  verses  of 
his  own  composing.  The  Provenij-al  joglar,  travelling  from 
court  to  court,  combined  our  modern  functions  of  poet, 
society  journalist,  entertainer,  and  musician.  But  about 
the  time  when  the  word  "  minstrel "  came  to  be  applied  to 
him  the  English  joglar  was  rapidly  sinking  or  had  already 
sunk  to  the  social  position  of  the  modern  strolling  mounte- 
bank, travelling  showman,  or  music-liall  singer.  •  Aad  the 


480 


M I N— M I N 


word  minstrel  had  had  a  sepamte  history  before  it  became 
synonymous  (as  in  the  Calholicon  Atifflimm  of  1483)  with 
ge^icviator,  kistrio,  joculator,  and  other  names  for  strolling 
entertainers.  Derived  from  the  Low  Latin  ministralis,  it 
was  originally  applied  to  those  retainers  whose  business  it 
was  to  play  upon  musical  instruments  for  the  entertainment 
of  their  lords.  Li  Chaucer's  Squire's  Tale,  the  "  minstralles  " 
play  before  King  Cambuscan  as  he  dines  in  state  "  biforn 
him  at  the  bord  deliciously,"  and  the  "  loude  minstralcye  " 
precedes  him  when  he  rises  and  withdraws  to  the  orna- 
mented chamber, 

TUer  03  they  somicu  diuerse  instrumentz, 

That  it  is  lyk  nu  heuen  for  to  hen 

Bat  even  in  Chaucer's  time  there  were  less  respectable 
musicians  than  those  of  the  king's  household — strolling 
nuisicians,  players  on  trumpets,  clarions,  taborets,  lutes, 
rebecks,  fiddles,  and  other  instniments.  These  also  were 
known  by  the  generic  name  of  minstrels,  whether  because 
many  of  them  had  learnt  their  art  in  noble  households 
before  they  took  to  a  vagabond  lite,  or  because  the  more 
respectable  of  them  affected  to  be  in  the  service  or  under 
the  patronage  of  powerful  nobles,  as  later  on  companies  of 
strolling  players  figured  as  the  "  servants  "  of  distinguished 
patrons.  All  the  allusions  to  minstrels  in  literature  from 
Langland's  time  to  Spenser's  point  to  them  as  strolling 
musicians.  Some  of  them  may  have  sung  to  the  harp 
verses  of  their  own  composing,  and  some  of  them  may  have 
composed  some  of  the  ballads  that  now  charm  us  with  their 
fresh  and  simple  art ;  but  the  profession  of  the  "minstrel," 
properly  so-called,  was  much  less  romantic  than  Bishop 
Percy  painted  it.  It  was  not  merely  "  the  bigots  of  the 
iron  time  "  that  "  called  their  harmless  art  a  crime  ";  in  a 
repressive  Act  passed  by  Henry  IV.  they  appear  with 
"  westom's,  rymours,  et  autres  vacabondes "  among  the 
turbulent  elements  of  the  community. 

In  a  passage  in  Malory's  Morte  Darlhur,  the  word 
inirLstrel  is  applied  to  a  personage  who  comes  much  nearer 
the  ideal  of  the  PrOT'en9al  joglar.  When  Sir  Dinadau 
wished  to  infuriate  King  Mark,  he  composed  a  satirical 
song,  and  gave  it  to  Elyot  a  harper  to  sing  through  the 
country,  Tristram  guaranteeing  him  against  the  conse- 
quences. ^Yhen  King  Mark  took  him  to  task  for  this,  the 
harper's  answer  was,  "  Wit  you  wtU  I  am  a  minstrel,  and 
I  nmst  do  as  I  am  commanded  of  these  lords  that  I  bear 
the  arms  of."  And  because  he  was  a  minstrel  King  Mark 
allowed  him  to  go  imharmed.  The  service  done  by  Elyot 
the  harper  in  the  old  romance  is  a  good  illustration  of  the 
[Kjlitical  function  of  the  itinerant  vieAixvaXjoculator;  but 
even  he  did  not  sing  verses  of  his  ovra  composing,  and  he 
was  not  a  "  minstrel "  in  the  sense  in  which  the  word  was 
used  by  romantic  poets  after  the  publication  of  Percy's 
Religues.  (w.  m.) 

MINT.  The  mint  is  the  place  where  the  coinage  of  a 
country  is  manufactured,  and  whence  it  is  issued  by  sovereign 
nuthority,  under  special  conditions  and  regulations.  The 
j)rlvilege  of  coining  has  in  all  ages  and  countries  belonged 
to  the  sovereign,  and  has,  in  England  at  least,  been  rarely 
delegated  to  any  subject,  and  in  any  case  in  a  restricted 
form,  the  crown  always  reserving  the  right  of  determining 
the  standard,  denomination,  and  design  of  the  coins. 

At  a  very  early  stage  of  civilization  it  was  found 
necessary  to  have  some  definite  medium  of  exchange,  in 
crder  to  avoid  the  great  inconvenience  arising  from  the 
bystem  of  payment  in  kind,  which  was  the  primitive  and 
•n.tural  method.  It  was  not  long  before  metal  came  to  be 
:  36d  as  such  a  medium,  probably  from  its  duiability  and 
,  ortability,  and  in  the  case  of  gold  and  silver  on  account  of 
tiieir  intrinsic  value.  The  less  liable  the  value  of  a  metal 
: .  to  change  the  better  is  it  suited  for  a  standard  of  value. 

Though  historians  assure  us  that  metals  were  found  in 


Britain  at  a  very  e^ily  period,  there  does  not  appear  to  be 
any  evidence  that  the  mines  were  worked  imtil  consider- 
ably later  than  the  time  at  which  the  use  of  metal  as  a 
medium  of  exchange  v.as  introduced.  It  is  probable  there- 
fore that  the  metals  for  exchange  were  imported  into 
Britain  long  before  the  native  mines  were  developed. 

The  metals  chiefly  used  were  silver  and  brass,  which 
were  at  first  simply  exchanged  by  weight  for  commodities 
of  all  kinds.  As  commercial  transactions  became  mora 
numerous  and  more  complicated,  this  system  of  payment 
grew  troublesome,  and  it  was  found  convenient  to  divide 
the  mass  of  metal  into  small  parts,  which  soon  took  the 
form  of  rough  coins.  But  the  principle  of  payment  by 
weight  was  retained  through  many  centuries,  and  is  per- 
petuated, though  in  name  only,  in  the  word  "  pound." 

Records  of  attempts  to  organize  the  coinage  of  England 
are  found  as  far  back  as  the  Anglo-Saxon  period,  and  it  is 
known  that  on  the  dissolution  of  the  Heptarchy  the  mints 
were  regulated  by  laws  framed  in  the  witenagemot.  The 
first  monarch  who  appears  to  have  dealt  successfully  with 
the  organization  of  the  coinage  was  Athelstan,  who  framed 
laws  for  the  regulation  of  the  mints,  and  appointed  officers 
whose  titles  and  duties  are  then  first  recorded.  The  only 
officers  connected  with  the  coinage  of  whom  mention  is 
found  before  this  time  are  the  "  moneyers,"  who  appear  to 
have  been  alone  responsible  for  the  manufacture  of  the  coin ; 
but  it  is  probable  that  even  then  there  existed  some  ofiicer 
who  had  authority  over  them.  In  early  Saxon  and  Norman 
times  the  number  of  moneyers  V'as  considerable,  mints 
being  established  in  almost  every  important  town,  as  might 
be  expected  at  a  period  when  communication  between 
distant  places  was  extremely  difficult.  They  appear  to  have 
been  the  officers  who  actually  performed  the  work  of 
making  the  coin,  the  mint  master  in  later  times  contracting 
with  them,  at  a  high  rate,  for  the  work.  They  were  respon- 
sible for  the  piu'ity  and  perfection  of  the  coins  produced, 
as  appears  from  the  fact  that  it  was  they  who  were 
punished  (as  traitors)  in  the  case  of  any  deficiency  in  weight 
or  fineness.  They  had  prescrijitive  rights  in  the  coinage, 
and  in  modem  times  (even  so  late  as  1850)  claimed  to  have 
corporate  privileges ;  but  it  is  clear,  on  the  authority 
of  Ending,  that  they  never  were  a  "  corporation  "  separate 
from  other  officers  of  the  mint.'  The  number  of  mints 
was  greatly  reduced  after  the  Norman  Conquest,  but 
continued  to  be  considerable  until  the  reign  of  Kichard  L, 
when  the  work  of  coining  for  the  whole  kingdom  was  con- 
centrated in  the  mint  in  the  Tower  of  London.  Only  one 
provincial  mint  (Winchester)  remained  till  a  later  date. 

An  important  reorganization  of  the  coinage  took  place 
in  1325  under  Edward  II.,  the  regulations  then  framed  for 
the  manufactitfe  and  issue  of  the  coins  forming  the  basis 
of  those  still  in  force.  The  principal  officers  under  these 
regulations  were — master,  warden,  comptroller,  king's  assay 
master,  king's  clerks,  and  cuneator.  The  ofiice  of  cuneator 
was  one  of  gi-oat  importance  at  a  time  when  there  existed 
a  multipUcity  of  mints,  since  he  had  the  sole  charge  of  all 
the  dies  used  not  only  at  the  mint  in  the  Tower  of  London 
but  also  in  the  provinces.  He  chose  the  engravers  and 
presented  them  to  the  barons  of  the  exchequer  in  order 
that  they  might  take  the  oath  of  fidelity ;  he  superintended 
their  work,  and  was  generally  answerable  for  the  perfection 
of  the  dies  before  they  were  issued  for  use  in  the  various 
mints  of  the  country.  The  office,  which  was  hereditar)', 
ceased  to  exist  when  the  provincial  mints  were  suppressed. 
In  its  place  was  instituted  the  office  of  clerk  of  the  iron,-, 


*  Among  tho  Kpeciftl  privilege  which  thoy  undoubtedly  enjoyed  w;i 
oxoniption  from  local  taxation,  as  nppojira  in  a  "writ  of  Henry  111., 
which  commands  the  mayor  of  London  not  to  disturb  them  ' '  h\ 
exacting  tallages  contrary  to  their  privileges."  Sometimes  also  house: 
were  allowed  to  them  rent  frcfi. 


MINT 


481 


-whose  f  anctiona  were  more  limited,  and  %/ere  not  hereditary. 
This  ofSce  was  only  recently  abolished. 

In  the  Middle  Ages  an  important  duty  devolving  on  the 
officers  o£  the  mint  was  the  collection  of  the  seigniorage 
which  was  levied  on  the  coining  of  money,  not  only  for  the 
purpose  of  covering  the  ejcpenses  of  minting,  but  also  as  a 
source  of  revenue  to  the  crown  which  the  sovereign  claiined 
by  virtue  of  his  prerogative.  In  former  times  the  collection 
of  the  seigniorage  was  entrusted  to  the  warden,  who  also 
superintended  the  manufacture  of  the  coins,  so  far  as  to 
ensure  the  proper  relations  between  the  moneyers  on  the  one 
hand  and  the  state  on  the  other.  He  does  not  appear, 
however,  to  have  had  any  responsibility  with  regard  to  the 
fineness  and  weight  of  the  coins. 

The  king's  sissay  master  was  specially  charged  with  all 
matters  relating  to  the  accuracy  of  the  standard.  The  officer 
next  in  rank  to  ti'm  was  the  comptroller,  who  presented 
annually  to  the  barons  of  the' exchequer  a  report  of  all  the 
gold  and  silver  money  struck  in  the  kingdom  during  the 
year.  These  reports,  which  were  always  written  upon 
parchment,  constitute  the  chief  mint  records.  The  king's 
clerk  exercised  a  general  superintendence  and  kept  an 
account  of  all  the  mint  transactions.  As  the  work  of  the 
mint  became  more  extensive  and  more  complicated,  other 
officers  were  added  such  as  the  surveyor  of  the  meltings, 
sorveyer  of  the  money  presses,  and  many  others. 

The  present  arrangements  with  regard  to  the  officers  of 
the  mint  were  made  in  1870,  when  several  important  changes 
took  place  in  the  mint  establishment.  Up  to  that  time 
there  had  been  two  controlling  officers, — the  master,  who 
in  some  instances  was  selected  on  account  of  distinguished 
scientific  attainments  (as  in  the  cases  of  Sir  John  Herschel 
and  Professor  Graham),  and  the  deputy  master  and  comp- 
troller. A  careful  inqiiiry,  however,  having  led  to  the 
conclusion  that  the  control  of  the  mint  might  with  advantage 
be  concentrated  in  the  hands  of  a  single  officer  of  experience 
in  the  conduct  of  public  business,  it  was  decided,  on  the 
death  of  Professor  Graham,  to  entrust  the  actual  adniinistra- 
tiou  of  the  department  to  the  deputy  master, — the  office 
and  title  of  master  of  the  mint  being  held  by  the 
chancellor  of  the  exchequer  for  the  time  being,  without 
salary.  At  the  same  time  the  services  of  a  scientific  officer 
were  secured,  by  the  appointment  of  a  chemist  of  the  mint. 
The  coining  and  die  department  and  the  melting  depart- 
ment were  united  under  the  name  of  the  operative  depart- 
ment, and  placed  under  a  single  superintendent.  The 
first  deputy  master  appointed  under  the  new  regulations 
was  the  Hon.'  C.  W.  Fremantle,  C.B.,  to  whom  the  public  are 
indebted  for  a  series  of  Annual  HeporU  which  have  given  a 
new  and  increased  interest  to  the  subject  of  the  coinage,  and 
may  be  said  to  constitute  in  themselves  a  mint  literature. 

"The  actual  operations  of  coining  in  early  times  were  few 
in  number  and  simple  in  character.  The  metals  forming 
the  alloy  were  melted  together  in  the  proportion  necessary 
to  bring  them  to  the  required  standard,  and  the  alloy  thus 
obtained  was  cast  into  bars,  which  were  reduced  by 
hammering  to  the  requisite  thickness.  They  were  then 
cut  with  shears  into  piepes  more  or  less  regular  in  size  and 
form,  roughly  annealed,  and  finally  impressed  with  the 
prescribed  device  by  a  blow  with  a  hammer. 

The  last-named  appears  to  have  been  the  only  part  of 
the  process  which  was  performed  with  any  great  amount  of 
care.  The  blank  piece  was  placed  by  the  hand  upon  a  die 
fixed  into  a  block  of  wood  having  a  large  heavy  base  to 
resist  the  oscillation  caused  by  the  blow ;  the  die  on  which 
was  engraved  the  device  for  the  reverse  of  the  coin  was 
then  placed  upon  the  upper  side  of  the  blank  and  held  by 
means  of  a  holder,  round  which  -was  placed  a  roll  of  lead  to 
protect  the  hand  of  the  operator  while  heavy  blows  were 
strack  with  a  hammer  by  an  assistant  workman.  «.One  of  the 


earliest  improvements  in  coining  was  the  introduction  of  a 
tool  in  shape  resembling  a  pair  of  tongs,  the  two  dies  being 
placed  one  at  the  extremity  of  each  leg.  This  avoided  the 
necessity  of  readjusting  the  dies  between  successive  strokes 
of  the  hammer,  and  ensured  greater  accuracy  in  the  impres- 
sion. It  was  long  before  the  system  of  coining  by  hand  was 
superseded  by  the  coining  press,  or  mill,  which,  even  after  its 
first  introduction,  was  only  very  slowly  adopted.  Several 
attempts  were  made  to  introduce  machinery  for  coining 
before  it  was  brought  into  active  use,  the  objection  to  it 
being  its  great  expense.  The  mill  and  screw  were  finally 
introduced  into  the  mint  under  Charles  II.,  when  many 
improvements  were  also  made  in  the  preliminary  operations. 
Steam-power  -was  first  applied  in  1810,  when  the  vacuum 
screw-press  -was  introduced.  In  1839  Uhlhom  invented  the 
lever-press,  which  still  remains  in  use. 

The  subject  of  the  design  on  coins,  besides  being  inter- 
esting both  from  an  artistic  and  an  historical  point  of  view, 
becomes  very  important  when  it  is  remembered  that  it  is 
the  impression  of  the  coin  with  the  authorized  device 
which  makes  it  legally  current.  The  artistic  merits  of  the 
design  of  the  early  Greek  coins  are  well  known,  and  prove 
that  the  dies  from  which  the  coins  were  struck  must  have 
been  engraved  with  much  skUl  and  care.  The  form  of  the 
coins  before  being  stamped  was  at  first  merely  that  of 
natural  rounded  nuggets  of  gold,  or  of  the  silver-gold  alloy 
known  as  electrmn.  Such  coined  nuggets  of  gold  ai-e  still 
to  be  found  among  the  hill  tribes  of  India.  Simple 
nuggets  were  aftem-ards  replaced  by  roughly-fashioned 
masses  like  half  bullets,  a  form  which  rendered  it  easy  to 
impart  high  relief  to  the  obverse  and  comparatively  low 
relief  to  the  reverse  of  the  coins.  The  early  British  coins  * 
had  for  their  prototype  the  gold  "stater"  of  Philip  of 
Macedon,  but  the  design  of  this  beautifully  finished  coin 
was  so  roughly  imitated  by  a  succession  of  British  copyists 
that  ultimately  the  •wreath  round  the  head  of  the  monarch 
alone  survived,  and  that  in  a  scarcely  recognizable  form. 
It  is  not  only  in  the  early  British  coins  that  the  influence 
of  classical  art  may  be  seen,  for  it  is  very  evident  in  some 
of  the  present  day,  the  most  notable  instances  being  the 
reverse  of  the  bronze  coinage,  and  the  beautiful  design  of 
St  George  and  the  dragon  by  Pistrucci,  which  is  still  used 
as  an  alternative  design  for  the  sovereign.  It  has  been 
ascertained  that  the  impressions  on  the  reverse  of  very 
early  Greek  coins  were  produced  by  the  rough  surface 
of  the  anvil  or  the  nail  head  on  which  they  were  placed, 
while  the  obverse  was  struck  with  the  die.  A  little  later 
the  device  on  the  reverse  of  the  coins  was  obtained  by 
placing  the  blank  piece  on  small  points  of  metal  arranged 
in  geometrical  forms  which  caused  corresponding  indenta- 
tions on  the  coins  when  struck  with  the  hammer.  The 
beauty  and  accuracy  of  design  on  coins  gradually  increased 
as  art  and  manual  skill  developed,  and  probably  culminated 
at  the  period  of  the  Renaissance. 

Although  it  has  been  the  custom  since  the  time  of  the 
Saxons  to  stamp  coins  -with  the  head  of  the  reigning 
monarch,  it  does  not  appear  that  any  attempt  at  actual  por- 
traiture was  made  in  England  until  the  reign  of  Henry  Vll., 
who,  "  about  the  eighteenth  or  nineteenth  year  of  his  reign, 
did  make  a  great  alteration  in  the  form  of  his  coin,  upon 
which  his  head  was  now  represented  in  profile,  and  with 
a  good  resemblance  of  his  other  pictures."-  Since  then 
much  care  seems  to  have  been  taken  to  stamp  the  coins 
with  a  true  likeness  of  the  monarch.  In  most  cases  the 
heads  bear  a  striking  resemblance  to  the  portraits  dra^wn 
by  the  great  artists  of  the  respective  periods,  and  were, 
indeed,  generally  designed  by  artists  of  eminence.  Some 
of  the  Milan  coinage  of  Louis  XIL  is  said  to  have  been 


'  See  Evans,  Coins  of  the  Ancient  Britons. 
"  See  Martin  Folkcs.  JoSJm  of  English  Silver  and  QoUC  Coiat 
iYL  — 6 I 


482 


MINT 


designed  by  Leonardo  da  Vinci,  and  similar  work  is  attri- 
buted to  Benvenuto  Cellini. 

In  very  early  times  the  silver  coins  were  equal  in  weight 
and  in  tale,  each  penny  weighing  24  grains  or  1  penny- 
weight. Tlie  amount  now  denominated  a  pound  was  a 
pound  weight  of  standard  or  sterling  silver.  This  principle 
was  in  fact,  however,  not  strictly  adhered  to,  the  coins 
frequently  falling  below  the  standard  of  weight.  This 
deviation  may  possibly  have  arisen  from  the  imperfection 
of  the  methods  of  manufacture,  but  Ending  {Annals  of  the 
Coinage)  considers  it  to  have  occurred  from  design,  as  the 
deficiency  in  weight  was  sometimes  made  a  source  of  profit. 
The  deviation  from  the  standard  weight  permitted  by  law, 
now  called  the  "  remedy,"  and  anciently  called  the  "  shere," 
was  taken  advantage  of  to  a  large  extent,  so  that  the  coins 
suffered  considerable  diminution,  particularly  when,  as 
frequently  happened,  they  were  also  "  clipped  "  as  soon  as 
they  were  issued.  'WTien  these  coins  were  called  in  they 
were  taken  by  weight  and  not  by  tale,  so  that  the  posses- 
.sors  suffered  considerable  loss.  In  later  times  the  great 
improvements  in  the  method  of  manufacture  made  it  easy 
to  attain  far  greater  accuracy  both  of  weight  and  fineness ; 
consequently  the  remedy  permitted  by  law  has  been  con- 
siderably reduced,  and  the  possibility  of  making  a  large 
amount  of  profit  by  this  means  proportionally  diminished.' 

The  seigniorage  levied  on  the  coining  of  money  was  not 
a  fixed  rate,  but  varied  considerably  at  different  times,  and 
accrued  from  a  deduction  made  from  the  bullion  coined. 
It  was  abolished  by  an  Act  of  Charles  IL,  which  provided 
that  whoever  brought  sterling  silver  or  standard  gold  to 
the  mint  should  receive  in  exchange  an  equal  weight  of 
current  coin,  the  expenses  of  coining  being  defrayed  by 
means  of  duties  levied  upon  certain  commodities  of  common 
use.  The  seigniorage  on  silver  was  revived  in  the  reign 
of  Georgo  III.,  when  that  part  of  the  Act  of  Charles  II. 
which  related  to  the  coining  of  silver  without  charge  was 
repealed,  and  another  Act  was  passed,  requiring  every 
pound  of  silver  to  be  coined  into  sixty-six  shillings  instead 
of  sixty-two, — the  four  shillings  realized  on  each  pound  of 
silver  by  this  depreciation  of  its  value  being  handed  over 
to  the  master  of  the  mint  to  defray  the  expenses  of  assay- 
ing, loss,  and  manufacture.  An  Act  of  William  IV. 
required  the  seigniorage  on  the  silver  coinage  to  be  paid 
to  the  credit  of  the  Consolidated  Fund,  and  the  charges  of 
the  mint  to  be  brought  annually  before  parliament.  Against 
the  profit  derived  by  the  state  from  this  source  must  be 
placed  the  expense  of  maintaining  the  silver  coinage  in  a 
condition  fit  for  circulation  by  frequently  withdrawing, 
recoining,  and  reissuing  the  silver  coins.  A  vote  of 
£15,000  is  annually  taken  in  the  mint  estimates  for  the 
loss  on  the  rccoinago  of  silver. 

In  former  times  the  work  of  the  mint  was  performed  by 
contract,  the  mint  master  undertaking  the  manufacture  of 
the  coinage  at  a  stated  price,  and  paying  the  moneyers 
and  other  officers  and  workmen  under  him  at  a  fixed  tariff. 
The  agreement  made  between  the  crown  and  the  mint 
master,  called  the  "master's  indenture,"  was  sometimes 
purposely  kept  secret.  This  system  appears  to  have  pre- 
vailed from  the  reign  of  Edward  I.,  when  an  agreement 
was  entered  into  between  the  king  and  the  first  master  of 
the  mint  (appointed  about  1279).     Under  this  agreement 


•  Two  noUiblo  instances  are  rccorilod  of  tlio  use  tliat  has  liccn  made 
at  various  times  of  tiio  shero,  or  remedy,  as  h  means  of  profit,  one 
being  in  the  reign  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  when  Lonison,  then  master  of 
the  mint,  finding  tho  allowance  made  him  under  his  contract  was  in- 
nufRcient  to  cover  tho  expenses  of  coining,  availed  himself  of  tho 
remedy  on  tho  silver  coinage,  amounting  to  6jd.  in  tho  pound  troy. 
The  olhor  ocoiirrtd  at  the  time  of  the  gieat  lecoinngo  of  silver  in  tho 
reign  of  WiUirvm  III.,  when  tho  profit  of  tho  shere  amountod  to  3d. 
per  pound  wgight,  or  rather  mora  than  8s.  in  ovary  hundred  pounds 
of  xnonef  • 


an  allowance  was  secured  to  the  master  to  cover  all  the  ex- 
penses of  coinage.  Although  the  master  of  the  mint  ceased 
to  be  a  contractor,  the  arrangement  with  the  managers  con- 
tinued in  force  up  to  1851. 

The  work  of  coinage  was  transferred  in  1810  from  the 
Tower  of  London,  where  it  had  been  carried  on  for  many 
centuries,  to  the  present  Mint  on  Tower  Hill,  not  far  from 
the  Bank  of  England.  The  head  of  the  department,  as  has 
already  been  stated,  is  the  chancellor  of  the  exchequer  for 
tho  time  being,  who  is  ex  pfficio  master  of  the  mint, — the 
practical  direction  of  the  work  being  placed  in  the  hands 
of  a  permanent  officer,  the  depu  ty  master,  who  is  responsible 
for  its  due  performance.  From  the  English  mint  is  supplied 
the  coinage  for  the  whole  of  the  British  empire,  including 
the  colonies,  with  the  exception  of  Australia ;  the  latter 
and  the  East  Indies  are  supplied  from  branch  mints  estab- 
lished at  Sydney  and  Melbourne,  and  the  mints  of  Calcutta 
and  Bombay.  In  addition  to  the  gold,  silver,  and  bronze 
coins  current  in  the  United  Kingdom,  the  English  mint 
strikes  gold  coins  of  the  value  of  two  dollars  for  New- 
foundland ;  silver  coins  of  the  value  of  fifty,  twenty-five, 
twenty,  ten,  and  five  cents  respectively  for  Newfoundland 
and  Canada ;  bronze  pence  and  halfpence  of  special  design 
for  Jersey,  and  nickel  pence,  halfpence,  and  farthings  for 
tho  West  Indies.  The  number  of  coins  of  each  separate 
denomination  issued  varies  considerably  in  different  years, 
the  demand  for  special  denominations  of  coin  naturally 
determining  the  supply. 

The  following  table  (from  official  sources)  sljows  the  value  of  the 
gold  and  silver  coins  issued  during  the  ten  years  1871-81.  The 
total  value  of  the  bronze  coin  issued  in  the  same  peiiod  is  £112,890. 


Dale. 

Gold  Coinage.' 

Silver  Ci'lnnge.         | 

Sovereigns. 

Half-Sovereigns. 

Total  Value. 

Half-crowns. 

Florins. 

£ 

£ 

JE 

£ 

£ 

1872 

13,043.885 

1,617,550 

15.201,441 

092,010 

1873 

2,382,835 

1,001.733 

3,384,608 

5!i0,574 

1874 

519,029 

941,930 

1,461,505 

273.240 

180,774 

1875 

. 

243,204 

243,204 

138.990 

114,246 

1876 

3,294,705 

1,401,943 

4,096.648 

79,200 

00.78S 

1877 

981,403 

981,408 

1878 

1,106.289 

1,158,730 

2,205,069 

183,150 

178,590 

1879 

17,625 

17,525 

36,050 

112,002 

13.-..432 

18S0  , 

8,640.853 

504,199 

4,150,062 

108,102 

232.254 

1881   ' 

256,800 

24,610,721 

7,868,408 

32,479,129 

1.29l,3-.0       ,  2,610.184     1 

Date. 

Silver  Coinage 

J 

Shillings. 

Six- 
pences. 

Four- 
pcnrca. 

Thrcc- 
pcncos. 

TVo- 
penccs. 

Pence. 

Totals. 

£ 

£ 

£     «. 

£          s. 

£     1. 

£ 

£ 

1872 

443.322 

94,446 

69    6 

13,916     2 

39  12 

33 

1.243.836 

1873 

324,324 

109,890 

69    0 

50,744    2 

.19  12 

275.022 

10.-.,732 

69     6 

66.694    2 

1876 

217.800 

81,378 

69    0 

41,433    3 

39  12 

1876 

38.412 

20,988 

69    0 

22,826    2 

39  12 

1877 

103,3.50 

101,772 

69    C 

31,142    2 

166,222 

05,638 

69    C 

30,360    2 

180.676 

83,160 

69     6 

37,082    2 

39  12 

649.054 

96,426 

09    0 

22.430    2 

1881 

262,648 

166.816 

09    6 

40,640    2 

2,303,730 

916,146 

693    0 

346,209    0 

390     0 

330 

7,376,104 

The  British  sovereign  or  twenty-shilling  pirco  wag  fii-st  issued 
by  proclamation  dated  1st  July  1817,  supcrsodiiig  the  guinea  or 
twenty-one-shiUing  piece.  Crown  pieces  of  the  nominal  value  of 
five  shillings  were  first  struck  in  the  reign  of  Henry  VIII.,  si.\- 
iiences  and  threepenny-pieces  are  first  mentioned  in  the  reign  ol 
Edward  YI.,  while  the  groat  or  fourpenny-pitcc  was  coined  as  early 
as  the  reign  of  Edward  I.  ;  tho  florin  or  two-shilling-pieco  was 
introduced" in  1849.  Copper  money  was  fiist  coined  by  Charles  I. 
ill  1606,  but  docs  not  appear  to  have  been  issued  until  1672.  Copper 
was  replaced  by  bronze  in  1860. 

Tho  weight  and  finene.ss  of  the  various  denominations  of  coin 
struck  at  tJio  Royal  Mint  is  shown  in  tlie  first  sclicilule  of  the  Coin- 
ago  Act  (33  Vict,  c.  10),  1870  :— 

5  In  these  gold  returns  fractions  of  pounds  sterling  are  omiited. 

'  The  numbers  and  weights  of  Uie  fourpences,  twopenccs,  and  pence, 
being  Maundy  coins,  are  the  same  for  each  of  the  years  : — 4618  four» 
peaces,  475- twopences,  and  7920  pence. 


MINT 


483 


Denomination  of  Co 


Stanibinl  Weight. 


Imperial 

Wclglit. 
Grjlns. 


Least  Current  Weight. 


ImperiM 
Weifiht. 
Grains. 


Slclrlc 
Weight. 
Grammes. 


Remedy  Allowance. 
Weight  per  Piece. 


Gold— 

Five  pound , 

Two  pound. 

Soveriign 

Half-sovereign 

SUver — 

Half-crown.. 

shuiing'."!'.!'.!!!!!!'.!!! 

Sixpence , 

Groat  or  fonrpence... 

Threepence 

Twopence 


«l(;-37239 
2M  M895 
lS-3-27447 
6103723 

436'383SD 
31618181 
VUhVAb 
87-2T27J 
43'63<J36 
2909O9O 
2181818 

7-27273 

14S'83333 
87-50000 
43'71>0OO 


3»040!8 
1S07C11 

7-0S800 
8-99402 

28-27590 
1413795 
11-31030 
505.^18 
282759 
1-8850S 
14I379 
0-94253 
0-47128 

9-449S4 

swaoo 

2-83495 


612-50000 
24300000 
122-50000 
61-12500 


39-68933 
15-87574 
7-93787 


{)  fine  gold,  A 

alloy;  or  milled 

fiimal  fineness 

91661;. 


millesimal 
fineness 


and  i. 


1-00000 
040000 
0"J»000 
0-lOUOO 

1-8181S 
0-90909 
0-72727 
0-36363 
018131 
0-12121 
009090 
0-06060 
0  03080 

2916e6 
1-75000 
0-87500 


0-06479 
0-02.'.92 
0-01296 
0-00643 

0-11781 
0  05890 
004712 
0-02356 
0-01178 
00078S 
000589 
0-00392 
0-00196 

0-1,1899 
011339 
005669 


The  weight  and  fineness  of  the  eoins  specified  in  this  schedule 
ire  according  to  what  is  provided  by  the  Act  56  Geo.  III.  c.  68, 
that  the  gold  coin  of  the  United  Kingdom  of  Great  Britain  and 
Ireland  should  hold  such  weight  and  fineness  as  were  prescribed  in 
the  then  existing  mint  indenture,  that  is  to  say,  that  there  should 
be  nine  hundred  and  thirty-four  sovereigns  and  one  ten-shilling 
piece  contained  in  20  lb  weight  troy  of  standard  gold,  of  the  fine- 
ness, at  the  trial  of  the  same,  of  22  carats  fine  gold  and  2  carats  of 
alloy  in  the  pound  weight  troy,  and  further,  as  regards  silver  coin, 
that  tliere  sliould  be  sixty-sLx  shillings  in  every  pound  troy  of 
standard  silver  of  the  fineness  of  11  ounces  2  pennyweights  of  fine 
silver  and  18  jicmiy  weights  of  alloy  in  evei-y  pound  weight  troy. 

The  jTcscnt  standard  of  fineness  for  gold,  22  parts  line  or  pure 
gold  aud  2  parts  of  alloyed  metal,  was  finally  adopted  in  the  reign 
of  Charles  II.,  and  has  remained  unchanged  up  to  the  present 
time.  Before  the  passing  of  the  Act  determining  this  standard 
considerable  changes  had  been  made  from  time  to  time,  the  highest 
degree  of  fineness  having  been  reached  in  the  reign  of  Henry  111., 
when  the  first  gold  coins  were  struck  of  the  standard  of  24  carats 
pur«  gold.  The  standard  of  fineness  for  gold  at  some  different 
periods  may  be  seen  from  the  following  table,  which  shows  the 
composition  of  some  of  the  ancient  gold  trial  plates,  of  which 
portions  are  preserved  in  the  Mint : — 


Date. 

Standard  prueribed 
by  Law. 

Standard 
foimd  by 
.\8say 

Remedy  or 

In  Carats 
and  Gruins. 

Decimal 
Ennlvalent. 

In  Carats  and  In 
Thousandths. 

1349 

\  carat,  or  13  9 

1477 

23    31 

994-8 

Gold  993-5 

..      ..    '•» 

1527 

22    0 

91C-6 

,.     913-5 

..      »    C-9 

1643(1) 

23    0 

958-4 

„     O-VI^ 

.,      ,.    69 

1553 

23    31 

994-8 

„     990-3 

..      ,.    6-9 

1560 

22    0 

916-6 

„     913-7 

»      1.    «9 

1560 

23    i\ 

994-8 

,      994-3 

..      ,.    «•» 

1593 

22    0 

916-6 

„     915-9 

„      „    6-9 

IC05 

23    31 

994-8 

„     990-3 

..      ..    «•» 

1049 

22    0 

9ii;'6 

,      9130 

..      ,.    69 

1660 

23    3} 

994-8 

„      990-9 

„      „    6  9 

1660 

916-6 

.,     012-9 

..      ..    «■" 

ie«3 

22    0 

916-6 

„     914-6 

>.      .■    "9 

1707 

22    0 

916-6 

„     9171 

M       ,•     69 

1728 

22    0 

9160 

,     916-1 

..      ..    6-9 

IfiO 

22     0 

916-6 

„     915-3 

U    ..      ..    26 

1873 

22    0 

916-6 

.,     916-61 

20 

1873 

Eupplementaiy  plate. 

Pure  ROlJ. 

... 

The  earliest  trial  plate  of  which  there  is  any  record  was  made  in 
the  seventeenth  year  of  Edward  IV.  Before  that  time  it  would  seem 
that  the  coins  were  comfiared  with  otliers  known  to  be  of  standard 
fineness,  since  among  the  Cotton  MSS.  is  preserved  the  account  of 
the  trial  of  the  pyx  of  gold  nobles  in  1349,  when  the  coins  were 
compared  with  an  ounce  of  florins  of  Florence  kept  in  the  Treasury 
as  standards.  The  first  gold  coins  were  24  carats  fine  or  pure  gold. 
Edward  III.  caused  coins  to  be  struck  of  23  carats  3^  grains  fine 
in  1346,  but  no  trial  plate  of  this  standard  was  made  until  1477. 
Henry  VIII.  lowered  the  standard  to  22  carats,  but  caused  coins 
to  be  struck  both  of  that  and  the  former  standards.  The  greatest 
debasement  of  the  standard  ever  reached  in  England  was  in 
1546,  when  it  sunk  as  low  as  20  carats.  It  reached  a  low 
r  point  in  the  early  part  of  Edivard  VI. 's  reign,  but  was  raised 
towards  the  end  of  it  to  22  carats  ;  and  it  was  still  further  raised 
to  23  carats  Z\  grains  by  Elizabeth,  who,  however,  caused  gold 
coins  of  22  carats  also  to  be  struck.  Charles  II.  on  his  accession 
rejected  the  trial  plates  of  the  standard  of  22  carats  which  had 
been  made  under  the  Commonwealth,  and  caused  others  to  be 
made  of  the  standard  of  23  carats  3^  grains.  No  coins,  however, 
appear  to  have  been  struck  of  this  standard.    The  same  monarch 


afterwards  fixed  the  standard  at  22  carats ;  and  no  variation  in  ths 
legal  standard  has  occurred  since  that  time.  The  last  new  trial 
plates,  made  in  1873,  were  alloyed  with  copper  only,  in  order  that 
they  might  correspond  with  the  composition  of  the  British  gold 
coins,  former  plates  having  been  alloyed  with  silver  and  copper. 
At  the  same  time  supplementary  jdates  of  pure  gold  and  silver 
were  prepared  in  order  that  the  greatest  possible  accuracy  might 
be  secured. 

The  present  standard  of  fineness  of  silver  for  coinage  was  fixed 
at  a  very  early  period,  but  has  been  subject  to  considerable  varia- 
tion since  the  reign  of  Edward  I.,  the  first  English  monarch  who 
debased  the  silver  coinage.  In  the  reign  of  Henry  VIII.  it  was 
once  reduced  as  low  as  4  ounces  of  silver  to  8  of  alloying  metal, 
and  Edward  VI.  reduced  it  oven  lower.  It  was  restored  by 
Elizabeth  to  the  original  standard. 

The  following  table  shows  the  composition  of  some  of  the  ancient 
silver  trial  plates  of  which  portions  have  been  iireserved  in  the 
Mint :— 


Dato. 

Standard  prescribed 
by  Law. 

SUndaM 
found  by 
Assay. 

Remedy  or 

Permitted  Variation 

In  Dwts.  and  in 

Thousandths. 

In  023. 

and  dwts. 

Decimal 
Etjnivaient. 

Ko  date. 

Silier  767-4 

1477 

11    2 

925-0 

„     923  5 

3  dwts. 

1527  (?) 

„     8855 

1542 

9    6 

775-0 

„     763-6 

3  dwts.  (?),  or  12-i 

1553 

11    2 

9250 

„     827-0 

Sdwta^      or  e-4 

1560 

11    2 

925-0 

„     930-2 

2     >.           »    8-4 

160O 

8    0 

250-0 

„     252-0 

3      „            „  12-5 

1601 

11    3 

925-0 

„     925-1 

2      IP            ..     8-4 

1604 

11    2 

9250 

„     922-7 

2  dwia. 

1049 

11    2 

9250 

„     923T 

2      .. 

1660 

11    2 

925  0 

„     924-2 

3  dwts.,  or   8  4 

16SS 

11     2 

925-0 

,.     922-0 

2      i,       ..     8-4 

1707 

11     2 

9250 

„     0220 

2      „       „    84 

1728 

11    2 

9250 

.      9-JS-9 

2dn1s. 

1829 

11    2 

925-0 

„     925-0 

1  dwt..  or  4-2 

1873 

11     2 

9250 

„     92496 

4-0 

1873 

Supiilementary  pinte. 

Pure  silver. 

The  alloy  used  for  the  bronze  coinage  is  composed  of  95  per  cent, 
of  copper,  4  of  tin,  and  1  of  zinc.  The  bronze  coinage  superseded 
the  old  copper  coinage  in  1860,  the  latte;-  having  been  in  use  since 
the  reign  of  Charles  II.  The  vicissitudes  of  the  copper  cQinage 
were  even  greater  than  those  of  the  superior  coinages,  coins  for 
Ireland  having  been  issued  at  one  time  of  pewter  and  of  other 
alloys  in  which  scarcely  any  copper  was  contained. 

The  annual  testing  of  the  standard  of  gold  and  silver 
coins,  called  the  trial  of  the  pyx,  from  the  "  pyx  "  or  chest  in 
which  the  coins  to  be  examined  are  kept,  is  a  ceremony  of 
very  ancient  institution.  It  arose  from  the  circumstance 
that  the  mint  master  was  originally  a  contractor,  under  the 
crown,  for  the  manufacture  of  the  coinage,  and  it  was 
therefore  necessary  that  periodical  examinations  of  the 
coins  should  be  held  in  order  to  ascertain  that  the  terms  of 
his  contract  had  been  complied  mth.  At  the  present  day, 
when  the  mint  master  is  no  longer  a  contractor,  but  an 
officer  of  the  crown,  the  trial  of  the  pyx  has  a  somewhat 
different  object;  but  it  would  appear  from  the  description 
of  these  periodical  examinations  in  some  of  the  earliest  mint, 
records  that  but  little  change  has  taken  place  in  the  manner 
of  conducting  them.  The  finished  coins  are  delivered 
to  the  mint  master  in  weights  called  "journey  weights," 


484 


MINT 


suj^osed  to  be  the  weight  of  coin  vrhich  could  be  manu- 
factured in  a  day  when  the  operations  of  coining  were 
performed  by  the  hand.  The  journey  weight  of  gold  is 
15  lb  troy,  coined  into  701  sovereigns  or  1-102  half- 
sovereigns.  The  journey  weight  of  silver  is  60  lb 
troy.  From  each  journey  weight  a  coin  is  taken  and 
deposited  in  the  "  pyx  "  or  chest  for  the  annual  trial.  This 
is  made  by  the  freemen  of  the  goldsmiths'  company  under 
the  direction  of  the  crown  in  the  presence  of  the  queen's 
remembrancer,  who  administers  the  oath  to  the  jury  and 
presides  over  the  proceedings.  The  coins  selected  for  trial 
are  compared  with  pieces  cut  from  trial  plates  of  standard 
fineness,  which  are  in  the  keeping  of  the  warden  of  the 
standards,  these  pieces  being  assayed  against  the  coins 
under  examination.  K  the  coins  are  found  to  be  of  the 
standard  fineness  and  weight,  within  certain  limits,  a  verdict 
to  that  effect  is  drawn  up  by  the  jurors  and  presented  to 
the  Treasury. 

In  consequence  of  the  impossibility  of  ensuring  an  abso- 
lutely exact  admixture  of  metals  in  coining,  it  has  been 
Boand  necessary  at  all  times  to  allow  to  the  mint  master 
a  certain  margin,  or  "remedy,"  within  which  coins  may 
savy  in  weight  and  fineness  from  the  fixed  standard  and 
still  be  considered  of  the  current  standard.  The  remedy 
of  fineness  for  English  gold  coin  is  now  fixed  at  2  parts 
per  1000.  The  great  importance  of  maintaining  the 
standard  of  fineness  for  gold  will  be  evident  when  it  is 
stated  that  the  variation  of  y'^j  of  a  millifeme  (or  thou.sandth 
part)  above  or  below  the  standard  causes  a  gain  or  loss 
of  ilOO  in  every  miUion  sterling.  Gold  coins  would 
be  within  the  remedy  of  fineness  permitted  by  law  if 
the  amount  of  precious  metal  contained  in  them  varied 
from  914-6  to  918-6  parts  in  1000;  and,  although  this 
remedy  caimot  be  considered  to  be  more  than  would 
meet  occasional  and  unavoidable  deviation  from  the  exact 
standard,  still,  in  the  case  of  gold,  but  a  very  small  part  of 
the  remedy  of  fineness  is  actually  used,  the  coins  seldom 
falling  below  916-3  parts  of  gold  in  1000,  or  rising  above 
917-0,  while  the  mean  composition  of  many  millions  of 
coins  issued  from  the  mint  is  often  of  the  precise  legal 
standard,  916-65.  The  remedy  of  fineness  for  silver  coin, 
which  appears  to  have  been  always  greater  than  that  for 
gold  coin,  is  4  parts  per  1000.  The  remedy  of  weight 
for  2;old  is  1--6  per  1000  parts,  that  for  silver  4-17,  and 
that  for  bronze  20.  Extreme  care  is  taken  to  prevent  the 
issue  from  the  mint  of  any  coins  that  exceed  these  permitted 
variations  in  weight  and  standard,  each  coin  being  weighed 
separately,  and  all  those  found  to  be  above  or  belo-w  the 
standard  being  returned  to  the  melting-house. 

Since  the  real  value  of  the  gold  coinage  is  the  same  as 
its  nominal  value,  it  is  of  the  first  importance  that  gold 
coins  which  are  below  the  standard  weight  should  not  be 
allowed  to  circulate,  otherwise  holders  of  large  quantities 
of  gold  coin  are  liable  to  considerable  loss.  After  a  certain 
amount  of  wear  a  gold  coin  in  passing  from  hand  to  hand 
loses  weight  and  becomes  legally  uncurrent.  By  the  Coinage 
Act  it  is  made  compulsory  for  every  person  to  "  cut,  break, 
or  deface  "  any  coin  tendered  to  him  in  payment  which  is 
below  the  current  weight,  the  person  tendering  it  bearing 
the  loss ;  but,  as  no  penalty  is  imposed  for  disregard  of  this 
obligation,  the  law  is  practically  without  effect.  The 
withdrawal  of  light  coin  from  circulation  was  formerly 
accomplished  solely  by  the  Bank  of  England,  the  mint 
regulations  making  provision  for  the  receipt  cf  gold  tendered 
for  coinage  only  in  the  form  of  bars.  The  bank  undertook 
to  purchase  the  light  gold  from  the  public  at  the  rate  of 
£o,  173.  6Jd.  an  ounce,  a  price  which,  as  compared  with 
the  mint  value  of  £3,  17s.  lOtd.,  entailed  a  loss  of  no  less 
than  4d.  an  ounce  on  the  seller.  This  loss  was  occasioned 
chiefly  by  the  circumstauce  that  the  baak,  being  obliged 


before  sending  the  light  gold  to  the  mint  for  recoinage  to 
melt,  assay,  and  cast  it  into  bars,  found  it  necessary  to 
deduct  the  sum  of  2id.  an  ounce  from  the  rate  of  £3,  17s. 
9d.  an  ounce  at  which  it  was  allowed  by  statute  to  purchase 
gold  for  coinage,  in  order  to  cover  the  expense  of  these 
operations  and  the  loss  incident  to  them.  The  heaN-y  lois 
in  price,  added  to  that  from  deficient  weight,  occasioned 
constant  disregard  of  the  law  requiring  all  light  coin'  to  be 
cut  or  defaced,  and  consequently  a  large  amount  of  light 
gold  continued  to  be  circulated.  After  the  passing  of  the 
Coinage  Act  in  1870,  accordingly,  fresh  regulations  were 
made,  by  which  the  mint  authorities  undertook  to  receive 
light  gold  coin  for  recoinage,  returning  to  the  importer  the 
full  mint  value  of  £3,  17s.  lOJ-d.  an  ounce,  thus  reducing  the 
loss  to  that  arising  from  deficiency  of  weight  only.  As  the 
Bank  of  England  was  enabled  by  these  regulations  to  raise 
its  price  for  light  gold  to  the  rate  of  ,£3,  t7s.  9d.,  the  same 
rate  at  which  it  is  bound  to  purchase  ingots  of  standard 
gold,  greater  inducements  were  offered  to  the  public  to  seud 
in  light  gold  for  recoinage,  and  its  withdrawal  from 
circulation  was  in  consequence  greatly  facilitated.  It  is 
evident,  however,  that,  as  the  deficiency  in  weight  must 
entail  some  loss  on  the  holders  of  light  gold  coin,  they  will 
be  disposed  to  keep  it  in  circulation  as  long  as  possible  ; 
consequently  only  a  small  proportion  of  the  light  gold 
received  by  bankers  finds  its  way  to  the  Bank  of  England 
and  thence  to  the  mint  for  recoinage.  The  result  of  some 
careful  experiments  made  by  the  late  Jlr  Stanley  Jevons, 
and  published  by  him  in  the  Journal  of  the  Statistical  Society 
(vol  yxxi.  p.  426),  showed  that  a  sovereign  becomes  so 
light  as  to  be  legally  uncurrent  at  the  end  of  eighteen  years. 
The  last  state  measure  taken  for  the  vvithdi-awal  of  light 
gold  coin  from  circulation  was  the  issue  of  a  royal  jiro- 
clamation  in  1842  calling  attention  to  the  laws  and 
regulations  relating  to  light  gold  coin,  and  instructing 
those  persons  whose  duty  it  was  to  enforce  them  to  see 
that  they  were  carried  out.  From  the  beginning  of  July 
1842  to  the  end  of  March  1S15  £14,000,000  in  light 
gold  coin  was  withdrawn  from  circulation  and  recoined. 
This  amount  was  estimated  to  represent  95  per  cent,  of  the 
whole  of  the  light  gold  then  in  circulation.  In  order  to 
facilitate  this  withdrawal  the  Treasm-y  had  in  .June  1842 
entered  into  arrangements  with  the  Bank  of  England  by 
which  the  bank  was  enabled  to  purchase  light  gold  on 
behalf  of  the  Government,  at  the  full  mint  value  of  £3,  17s. 
lOid.  an  ounce.  Light  coin,  however,  continued  to  be 
sent  into  the  bank  for  some  time  after  it  had  reverted  to 
its  original  rate  of  payment  for  light  gold,  i.e.,  £3,  1 7s.  6^d. 
an  ounce.  The  expense  to  the  state  of  this  withdrawal, 
including  the  expenses  of  recoinage,  was  £67,816.  As  no 
important  withdrawal  of  worn  gold  coin  has  occurred  since 
that  time,  it  is  evident  that  a  large  amount  of  light  gold 
must  bo  at  the  present  time  in  circulation,  and  that  the 
loss  in  weight  must  be  considerably  greater  than  that  of 
the  coins  withdrawn  in  1842,  the  oldest  of  which  were  not 
more  than  twenty-five  years  old,  the  first  issue  having  taken 
place  in  1817.  It  has  been  proved  by  experiment  that  the 
average  loss  of  weight  in  worn  sovereigns  and  half-sovereigns 
now  in  circulation  is  about  3d.  in  each  sovereign,  and  that 
the  deficiency  in  fineness  of  a  large  proportion  of  the  coin 
amounts  to  about  £400  per  million.  This  deficiency  arises 
from  the  trial  plate  of  1829,  which  determined  the  standard 
of  a  portion  of  the  coins  still  in  circulation,  being  itself 
below  the  legal  standard.  Taking  the  gold  circulation  at 
£100,000,000,  of  which  about  50  per  cent,  is  light,  it  is 
estimated  that  the  amount  to  bo  recoined  cannot  be  less 
than  £50,000,000,  on  which  the  loss  from  deficiency  of 
gold,  both  in  weight  and  fineness,  must  be  reckoned  at  about 
£660,000,  independent  of  the  expen.ses  of  recoinage. 
In  the  case  of  the  silver  coioage,  the  loss  consequent  on  the 


MINT 


^5 


Uithdi-awal  and  recoinage  of  silver  money  is  now  covered 
•by  the  seigniorage  arising  from  the  difference  between  the 
real  and  the  nominal  value  of  the  coins.  Before. the  adop- 
tion of  gold  as  the  sole  standard  of  value,  the  conditions 
attending  the  withdrawal  and  recoinage  of  silver  were  much 
the  same  as  those  for  gold.  In  the  period  between  the  reign 
of  Charles  n.  and  the  accession  of  William  III.  the 
condition  of  the  silver  coinage  became  so  unsatisfactory  as 
to  demand  the  attention  of  parliament.  A  recommendation 
made  at  the  suggestion  of  Sir  Isaac  Newton  for  a  recoinage 
of  silver  was  at  first  strenuously  opposed,  but  was  finally 
adopted.  In  the.  course  of  the  discussion  the  question  of 
raising  the  standard  of  weight  and  fineness  arose,  and  this 
important  change  would  probably  have  been  made  but  for 
the  representations  of  Locke,  jvho  warmly  took  up  the 
question  and  convinced  the  Government  of  the  desirability 
of  preserving  the  established  standard.  In  the  great 
recoinage  of  silver,  the  loss  arising  from  clipped  and  defaced 
coin  was  borne  by  the  public,  the  money  being  raised  by 
means  of  a  special  tax  on  glass  windows.  The  silver 
reissued  at  this  time  amounted  to  £7,000,000,  and  the 
tax  raised  to  cover  loss  and  the  expenses  of  coinage  to 
£1,200,000.  The  work  of  this  recoinage  was  so  great  that 
the  resources  of  the  mint  in  London  were  found  to  be 
unequal  to  the  pressure  put  upon  them,  and  therefore 
mints  were  either  revived  or  established  for  the  first  tin.e 
in  a  few  of  the  large  provincial  towns.  In  addition  to 
this  ten  furnaces  were  erected  behind  the  Treasury  at 
Whitehall  to  melt  down  the  old  pieces.  By  these  means 
the  renovation  of  the  silver  coinage  was  completed  within 
the  year.  The  new  silver  coins  then  issued  were  the  first 
which  had  milled  edges,  the  milling  having  been  introduced 
in  order  to  prevent  clipping. 

The  mode  in  which  the  silver  currency  is  distributed  throughout 
the  kingdom  is  explained  by  the  late  Mr  George  Forbes,  cashier  of 
the  Bank  of  England,  as  foUows  : — 

Every  banker  in  the  kingdom  has  a  banker  who  is  his  agent  in 
London.  Every  London  banker  has  an  account  with  the  Bank  of 
England.  In  the  Bank  of  England  there  is  a  department  devoted 
to  the  issue  and  receipt  of  silver  coin.  If  in  a  district  there  is  a 
deficiency  of  silver  currency,  the  bankers  of  the  district  arc  tho  first 
to  find  it  out  Tliey  at  once  writo  to  their  London  agents,  who 
draw  on  their  account  with  the  Bank  of  England,  and  obtain  what 
■silver  is  required,  wliicli  they  send  to  tlie  country  banker.  On  tho 
other  hand,  if  there  is  a  surplus  of  silver  in  a  district  it  accumulates 
in  tire  coffers  of  the  local  bankers,  who  send  it  up  to  their  London 
agents,  and  they  send  it  into  the  Bank  of  England.  If  there  is  a 
^enei'al  demand  for  silver  cuiTency,  the  stock  which  tho  Bank  of 
Eirgland  endeavours  to  keep  on  hand  becomes  unduly  diminished, 
and  immediate  notice  of  tlic  fact  is  conveyed  to  the  mint  authorities, 
who  proceed  with  all  convenient  speed  to  coin  a  supply  of  florins, 
Bhillings,  sixpences,  or  of  all  of  these  coins,  as  the  nature  of  the 
(Rmand  may  require. 

Gold  bullion  for  coinage  is  supplied  to  the  mint  almost 
entirely  by  the  Bank  of  England,  the  bank  being  bound 
by  law  to  purchase  at  the  rate  of  £3,  .17s.  9d.  an  ounce 
any  gold  bullion  of  the  legal  standard  which  the  public 
may  bring  for  sale.  Private  individuals  are  permitted  to 
bring  bullion  to  the  mint,  and  to  receive  back  the  full 
amount  (at  £3,  17s.  lOid.  an  ounce)  converted  into  coin, 
free  of  any  charge  for  loss  or  manufacture  ;  but,  as  they  are 
subject  to  considerable  delay,  all  "  importations  "  of  bullion 
being  converted  into  coin  in  the  order  in  which  they  are 
brought  to  the  mint,  the  public  practically  prefer  to  sell 
their  bullion  to  the  bank,  and  receive  its  value  without 
delay.  In  order  to  be  accepted  by  the  bank,  the  bullion 
must  be  cast  into  ingots  and  assayed,  a  guarantee  being 
^vcn  by  certain  recognized  assayers  that  the  gold  is  of  a 
certain  standard  fineness.  This  is  known  as  the  "  trade 
assay."  When  the  bank  requires  gold  to  be  struck,  due 
notice  is  sent  to  the  deputy  master,  and  on  a  fixed  day 
the  bullion  is  conveyed  to  the  mint  and  delivered  into  hb 
custody.     It  arriv<)si  in  the  form  of  ingots,  each  weighing 


about  200  ounces,  the  aggregate  value  of  each  importa- 
tion being  about  £144,000.  When  the  ingots  arrivq  at 
the  mint  a  small  sample  is  taken  from  each  and  assayed,^ 
tho  result  being  sent  to  the  authorities  of  the  bank  in 
order  that  it  may  be  compared  with  that  of  the  trade 
assay.  If  the  bank  authorities  find  that  the  two  assays 
agree,  within  certain  limits,  as  to  weight  and  fineness,  the 
ingots  are  immediately  sent  to  the  operative  department  of 
the  mint  to  be  converted  into  coin.  The  mint  assay  affords 
the  basis  for  calculating  the  amount  of  copper,  the  alloying 
metal,  that  must  be  melted  with  the  gold  in  order  to  produce 
the  standard  prescribed  by  law.  The  case  of  silver  is 
somewhat  different,  the  bullion  being  purchased  by  the 
department  at  its  market  value,  which  varies  from  year  to 
year.  During  the  teruyears  ending  1881  the  average  price 
of  silver  bullion  sank  gradually  from  60j^d.  to  Sly^. 
The  silver  bullion  arrives  at  the  mint  in  the  form  of  ingots, 
each  of  which  weighs  about  1000  ounces,  the  value  of  each 
set  of  ingots  varying  considerably.  The  ingots,  both  of 
gold  and  silver,  are  weighed  on  a  balance  capable  of  turn- 
ing with  1  grain  when  loaded  with  1200  ounces. 

The  operations  of  coining  have  undergone  some  sUght 
changes  with  the  introduction  of  new  machinery  and  the 
increased  extent  of  the  Koyal  Mint,  since  the  reconstruc- 
tion of  the  operative  department  in  1881.^  The.  plan 
(fig.  1)  shows  the  present  arrangement  of  the  operative 
department. 

The  operations  employed  in  the  manufacture  of  gold  ajid 
silver  coin  are  as  follows  (incidental  operations  teing 
printed  in  smaller  type) : — 

I.  Assaying  the  bullion. 

II.  Melting  the  metal. 

(o)  Addition  of  the  amount  of  copper  necessary  to  f-jrni 
the  prescribed  alloy ;  (b)  poirring  the  metal  into  mo'.ilds 
so  -aa  to  form  bars ;  (c)  dressing  these  bars  to  remove 
rough  edges  and  hollow  ends  ;  (rf)  recovery  of  procioua 
metals  from  crucibles  and  "sweep." 

III.  Assaying  portions  of  metal  cut  from  certain  bars, 
to  ascertain  whether  sufficient  accuracy  has  been  attained 
in  the  standard  fineness. 

IV.  Kolling  the  bars  into  strips  or  "  fillets." 

Annealing  the  fillets  (in  some  cases). 
v.  Adjusting  the  fillets  by  a  final  rolling,  and  in  aouie 
cases  by  the  use  of  the  drawbench. 

Testing  the  fillets  to  ascertain  whether  they  are  of  fiwTi^ 
cicut  accuj;acy  as  regards  thickness. 
VX  Cutting  out  disks  or  blanks  from  the  fillets. 

Adjusting  the  blanks  in  weight  (in  some  mints). 
Vn.  Edge-rolling  the  blanks  to  produce  a  raised  rim. 
Annealing  the  blanks  and  (in  some  cases)  "blancfeiirg - 
or  "  pickling"  them  in  dilute  acid. 
Vni.  Coining,  or  stamping  the  device  on  the  blank^  by, 
means  of  engraved  steel  dies. 

Milling  the  edges  of  the  blanks  or  (in  some  cases)  im^ 
pressing  a  device,  inscription,  or  ornament  upon  tbera. 

IX.  Weighing  each  coin,  usually  by  the  aid  of  automatic 
machinery. 

X.  Assaying  and  weighing  pieces  taken  fronrsthe 
finished  coin  before  it  is  issued  to  the  public. 

The  foregoing  list  will  make  it  clear  that  the  operatic«s 
of  minting  consist,  not  .simply  in  the  mechanical  production 
of  accurately  adjusted  disks  of  metal  the  purity  alone  of 


'  The  assays  are  conducted  in  the  manner  already  described  in  the 
articles  AssATDfo  and  Gold; 

'  In  order  to  provide  a  stock  of  silver  coin  during  the  temporary 
suspension  of  the  work  of  the  mint,  a  large  coinage  of  silver  was  ifsued, 
and  50  tons  of  brorrze  coins  were  manufactured  by  contract  ia  the 
autumn  of  1881.  The  governor  of  the  Bank  of  England  had  ptevkrusiy; 
reported  that  the  stock  of  gold  coin  held  by  the  bank  was  abnonnalljj 
large,  and  that  no  inconvenience  would  arise  "if  the  mintwci«toeeasa 
coining  sovereigns  and  haif-sovereigns  for  a  period  of  sirmonths  or-» 
year  or  even  more," 


486 


MINT 


iwhich  has  to  be  guaranteed,  but  in  the  formation  of  an 
alloy  composed  of  j)rcciou3  and  base  metals  in  definite  pro- 
portions. The  accuracy  of  the  "standard  fineness"  of  the 
alloy  after  melting  must  be  absolutely  ascertained;  the 
alloy  must  be  protected  duiing  manufacture  against  a 
change  of  standard,  and  finally  its  correctness  must  be 
verified  after  it  has  been  converted  into  coin. 

The  precious  metals  are  weighed  on  entering  the  mint, 
OB  well  as  during  various  stages  in  the  manufacture  of 
coin.  The  finished  coins  are  also  weighed  in  bulk  before 
they  are  issued  to  the  public. 

The  operations  incidental  to  the  coinage  of  bronze  and 
silver  differ  from  those  described  in  relation  to  gold  in  some 
unimportant  details  only;  and  the  weight  and  composition 
of  the  bronze  coins  are  not  so  carefully  guarded  as  ig  the 
case  with  gold  and  silver. 


Subjoined  are  the  details  of  the  operations  involved  in' 
the  conversion  of  bullion  into  coin  at  the  British  mint. 

After  beingassa3'ed  and  weighed  in  the  manner  already  described  Mettiii^ 
the  bullion  is  taken  to  the  nieUing-housc,  where  the  details  of  treat-  the 
nicnt  for  silver  and  gold  respectively  dilfer  somewliat,  (The  sub-  metaL 
sequent  operations  are  nearly  identical  for  both  metals. )  The 
silver  melting-house  (see  fig.  1)  contains  eight  furnaces,  of  the 
kind  shown  at  A  fig.  2,  the  ^Kirt  of  the  furnace  containing  the 
crucibles  being  below  tlie  lids  B,  B.  Crucibles  of  cast  iron  were 
formerly  employed,  but  these  were  replaced  in  1853  by  wrought 
iron  pots,  which  have  since  1870  been  m  turn  abandoned  in  favour 
of  crucibles  made  of  a  mixture  of  clay  and  graphite,  cacli  crucible 
being  capable  of  containing  about  3000  oz.  Such  crucibles  are 
very  generally  adoj)ted  throughout  the  Indian  and  Continental 
mints,  but  the  form  and  dimensions  given  to  them  vary.  The 
fuel  employed  in  England  is  coke,  about  75  lb  of  which  arc  re- 
quired to  melt  3000  oz.  of  standard  silver.  Sufficient  draught  is 
afforded  by  the  flue  C  and  by  a  chimney  about  35  feet  high  wliicli 
communicates  with  it.     The  silver  and  copper  are  melted  togct!"r; 


MAIN    BUILDINQ        v 
(OFFICES   iP)  \  / 

MINT 
OFFICE 


iMi 


Fto.  1. — Royal  Jlint,  Tower  Hill,  London.     Plan  showing  the  Operative  Depar'ment  as  rearranged  in  13S1-S2. 


and  before  the  metal  is  poured  into  moulds  it  is  stirred  with  an 
ii'on  rod  having  a  flattened  end.  The  i  jrface  of  the  molten  metal  is 
covered  with  a  layer  of  charcoal  to  prevent  oxidation  of  (lie  copper. 
The  crucible  with  its  contents  is  then  removed  from  the  furnace 
by  the  aid  of  a  crane  and  tongs  W,  and  is  placed  in  a  cradle  M, 
T^iicli  can  be  tilted  by  means  of  a  lianillo  D.  By  the  interven- 
tion of  toothed  wheels  E,  F,  G,  H,  and  K  acting  on  a  rack  the 
handle  tnrns  the  crucible  on  the  fulcrum  formed  by  a  spindle, 
80  that  the  contents  of  the  crucible  may  be  poured  into  the  moulds 
K  mounted  on  a  carriage  OP,  i-unuing  on  rails  Q,  Q.  The  moulds 
now  in  use  in  London  are  of  such  dimensions  as  to  enable  bars  to 
be  cast  12  inches  Ion"  and  *  inch  thick.  The  width  of  the  bars 
varies,  according  to  Ine  coin  to  be  jtroduced,  from  IJ  to  2£  inches. 
When  the  metal  has  solidified  in  the  moulds  it  is  removed,  and 
the  bare  are  trimmed  by  the  aid  of  a  revolving  circular  file,  their 
ends  being  cut  off  and  returned  to  the  melting  pot.  Portions  of 
metal  are  then  cut  from  certain  of  the  bai-s,  and  sent  to  the  assay 
ilcpartmcnt.  The  bars  are  weighed  before  they  pass  to  the  subse- 
quent operations  of  coinage,  in  order  that  the  amount  of  metal  re- 
tained by  the  crucibles  or  cairicd  into  the  flues  may  be  ascertained. 
Gold  biiUion  is  melted  in  a  similar  way,  but  the  crucibles  are 


smaller,  and  contain  only  1200  oz.  Their  contents  are  pouicd  by 
hand  into  moulds,  one  end  of  the  tongs  by  which  the  crucible  is 
grasped  being  supported  by  a  chain  and  suspended  from  the  roof.* 
In  many  Continental  mints  it  is  very  gemrally  the  ]iractico  to 
leave  the  crucible  containing  the  precious  metals  in  ilie  furnace, 
and  to  pour  the  contents  into  the  moulds  by  the  aid  of  small  ladles 
of  wrought  iron  lined  with  clay.  I 

It  has  been  pointed  out  in  Gold  (vol.  x.  p.  751)  that  minute; 
quantities  of  certain  metals  render  standard  gold  cxtiemely  brittl»| 
and  unfit  for  coinage.  If  cither  the  gold  bullion  or  the  copper 
used  as  an  alloying  metal  should  be  impure,  brittle  bars  will  b»' 
the   result.      Should  this  prove  to  be  the  case,  the  bats  are  re«| 


'  A  new  form  of  furnace  devised  by  M.  A.  Piat  of  Paris  has  recently, 
been  introduced.  In  these  furnaces  the  portion  which  contains  tbo] 
cruriblo  may  be  detached  from  the  flue,  so  as  to  admit  of  the  nioUeili 
metal  being  poured  into  moulds  without  removiug  the  crucible  from 
the  incandescent  fuel.  Four  of  such  furnaces  have  been  fitted  up  ld; 
the  gold  melting-house,  but  have  not  as  yet  been  used  for  gold  melt- 
ing ;  in  the  melting  of  silver  and  bronze,  however,,  they  arc  known  t«' 
effect  considerable  economy  in  labour,  fuel,  and  crucibles. 


MINT 


487 


UnlHtig 


melted  and  chlorine  gas  is  passed  through  the  molten  mass  in  the 
manner  described  in  Gold,  vol .  i,  p.  750. 

The  engine-room  (shown  in  fig.  1)  contains  three  60-horse- 
power  verrical  condensing  engines,  which  are  provided  with  Corlis 
valves,  and  are  specially  devised  for  meeting  the  constantly  vary- 
ing strain  to  which  they  are  subjected  by  the  machinery,  the 
whole  of  which  they  aro  capable  of  driving.  The  central  engine 
acts  directly  on  either  or  both  of  the  rolling  rooms  placed  on  each 
side  of  the  engine-house.  There  is,  however,  an  additional  20-horse- 
power  compound  beam  engine  usually  employed,  in  connexion  with 
the  pumps  of  a  deep  artesian  well. 

Into  one  or  other  of  these  rooms  the  bars  which  have  been  cast 


in  the  melting-house  are  brought,  and  are  rolled  into  strips  the 
thickness  of  which  depends  on  the  kind  of  coins  to  be  produced. 
Gold  is  rolled  in  one  room  and  silver  or  bronze  in  the  other.  The 
details  of  manipulation  involved  in  the  conversion  of  gold,  silver, 
or  bronze  bara  into  coin,  however,  do,  not  differ  mateiially,  and  tho 
coinage  of  sovereigns  will  therefore  be  taken  as  typical 

Each  room  contains  six  pairs  of  rolls,  the  diameter  of  the  rolls 
varying  from  10  to  14  inches.  Smaller  diameters  are  employed  in 
most  European  mints,  but  on  the  other  hand  the  use  of  very  narrow 
rolls  of  far  larger  diameter  has  often  been  suggested,  and  there 
appears  to  be  good  ground  for  the  belief  that  the  rigidity  of  such 
rolls  would  enable  strips  or  fillets  of  more  uniform  thickness  to  be 


>'I0.  2. — Furnace  Apparatus. 


produced  than  is  the  case  at  present.  The  iron  frame  CO  (fig.  3)  is 
firmly  bolted  to  the  stone  D,  which  rests  on  a  solid  foundation  EE. 
This  frame  supports  the  two  rolls  A,  6,  the  lower  of  which  B 
revolves,  bat  is  not,  like  the  upper,  capable  of  adjustment  in  a  ver- 


Fia.  S.— Rolls. 

tical  plane.  The  upper  roll  is  centred  in  bearings,  and  may  be  raised 
or  lowered  by  means  of  screws  connected  with  toothed  wheels  F,  F, 
which  are  turned  by  a  handle  G,  both  wheels  being  moved  simulta- 
neously by  worms  on  the  rod  H.  The  bearings  of  the  upper  roll  ai-e 
connected  by  vertical  rods  with  weights  below  the  level  of  the  floor ; 


and,  as  it  rises  with  the  screws,  it  can  thus  be  readily  ac^nsted  in  a 
line  e.tactly  parallel  with  the  lower  roll,  at  a  sufficient  distance 
from  it  to  admit  the  bar  which  is  to  be  reduced  to  a  strip  or  fillet, 
Tho  rolls  are  turned  by  the  shaft  XN,  the  main  wheel  JI,  and 
the  gearing  K,  L,  0,  P.  The  sockets  r  by  which  the  upper  roll  is 
connected  with  the  gearing  by  the  shaft  I  arc  not  rigid,  as  is 
the  case  with  the  shaft  Q  of  the  lower  roll,  but  admit  of  the  adjust- 
ment of  the  roll.  The  portion  of  the  roll  used  is  determined  by  a 
fuide  a  little  wider  than  the  bar.'  Tho  rolls  throughout  this 
epartment  are  driven  at  the  rate  of  about  32  revolutions  in  a 
minute.  The  iron  frame  CC  is  braced  by  rods  a,  s;  and  blocks 
bearing  the  driving  shafts  are  shown  at  k,  jt,  p,  p. 

The  initial  thickness  of  a  sovereign  bar  is  |ths  of  an  inch.  The  ban 
are  weighed  out  to  the  workmen  in  batches  of  about  sixty  bars, 
an  entire  batch  being  passed  through  the  rolls  under  precisely  ths 
same  conditions  of  adjustment.  The  bars  are  only  slightly  reduced! 
in  width  by  repeated  passages  through  the  rolls,  but  are  successively; 
reduced  in  thickness  in  tlie  fii-st  stages  of  the  rolling  by  iVth  of  ai^ 


e"eH 
elntha 


>  In  the  second  rolling  room,  shown  in  tho  plan  on  llie  rii:ht  of  the  i 
honse,  the  frames  and  gearing  of  the  i-olls  are  of  newer  pattern  than  those  i 
6rst  room.  Id  some  of  the  six  pairs  the  bottom  rolls  revolve  and  drive  the  ttppeij 
ones.  In  the  pair  of  "  breaking-down  "  rolls  in  this  room,— tliat  is,  tho  roll  br 
which  the  lillets  arc  first  treated, — tho  upper  roll  is  stationary,  the  lower  roll 
alone  revolving.  The  necessary  ''bite"  1^  given  to  the  l^llet,  vrhtm  Its  end  IS 
Introdoced.  by  illgbUy  turning  the  upper  nil  by  oieaus  of  a  ratchct-whevl  and 
lever. 


488 


MINT 


inch,  while  in  the  Iai£r  stages  the  reduction  in  thicknessat each 
passage  through  the  rolls  is  less  than  -rJ^th  "'  ""  >°<=h,  and  finally 
one  or  two  "spring  pinches"  arc  given  to  the  bars  by  simply  pass- 
ing them  through  the  rolls  without  alteiing  the  adjustment.  The 
testing  of  the  lillets,  to  ascertain  whether  they  are  of  the  accurate 
thiclCDess,  is  effected 
by  the  aid  of  the  gauge 
plate  (fig.  4),  which 
consists  of  two  steel 
bars  set  at  a  low  angle 
in    relation    to    each 

other   and    graduated  „       .      „         -n,  ^ 

to  xT^th  of  an  inch.  Fio.  4.-Gauge  Plate. 

It  mil  be  evident  that  the  weight  of  the  finished  coin  depends  upon 
the  thickness  of  the  fillets  ;  and  to  show  how  accurately  the  rolling 
must  be  performed  it  may  be  pointed  out  that,  in  the  case  of  the 
half-sovereign,  a  variation  of  ^^Imtth  of  an  inch  above  or  belovf  the 
accurate  thickness  (or  a  range  of  roinjtli  °^  ^"  ii"!h)  throws  the 
coin  out  of  "remedy." 


The  repeated  passage  through  the  rolls  is  attended  by  a  consider, 
able  increase  of  hardness  in  the  metal,  and  it  is  therefore  in  some 
cases  necessary  to  anneal  the  fillets  repeatedly  during  the  rolling. 
In  the  case  of  fillets  for  sovereigns  the  annealing  may  he  entirely 
dispensed  with  if  the  initial  thickness  of  the  bars  does  not  exceed 
fths  of  an  inch.  Fillets  for  half-sovereigns  have  only  to  be  annealed 
one:;.  In  some  European  mints  the  fillets  are  annealed  frcfiuently  ; 
in  one  mint  the  operation  is  performed  after  each  passage  through 
the  rolls.  The  furnace  used  for  the  purpose  is  generally  so  arranged 
as  to  permit  the  flame  to  play  over  the  fillets,  which  are  sometimes 
freely  exposed  to  its  action,  but  are  more  often  enclosed  in  cases  or 
tubes.  Muffle  furnaces  are  frequently  used.  The  furnace  used  in 
the  Royal  Mint  is  a  simple  form  of  reverberatory  furnace.  The 
final  rolling  is  giveu  by  a  pair  of  finishing  rolls  capable  of  more 
accurate  adjustment  than  the  "breaking-down"  rolls. 

The  fillets  of  gold  or  silver  are  in  some  cases,  though  not  alw.iys,  Drag 
submitted  to  an  appliance  known  as  the  drag  bench,  shown  in  bench 
figs.  5,  6,  7.  Its  object  is  to  equalize  the  tiiickness  of  the  fillets  by 
drawing  them  between  steel  cylinder.-     '^^"  „,„i„  «f  ti,»  r,ii„t»  „..., 


The  ends  of  the  fillets  are 


Figs.  B,  6,  7. — ^Drag  Bench. 


first  flattened  in  a  little  appliance,  which  need  not  be  described. 
The  essential  feature  of  the 
Biachine  now  used  in  the 
mint  consists  of  two  small 
steel  cylinders  A,  A,  which 
do  not  revolve,  and  are 
held  in  position  in  the 
plates  D,  D  by  clamp  pieces 
F,  F  screwed  against  them. 
The  portions  of  metal  may 
be  adjusted  by  the  aid  of 
a  wheel  and  screw  H  (figs. 
C,  7),  and  by  small  ad- 
justing screivs  /,  /.  The 
part  of  the  machiuo  con- 
taining the  steel  cylinders 
>3  fixed  at  the  end  of  a 
long  bench,  and  ^caring  at 
the  other  end  of  tliis  bench 
drives  an  endless  chain  BB 
(fig.  6),  one  link  or  other  of  i 
which  catches  the  carriage, 
shown  in  plan  in  fig.  &,  and 
drags  it  along  as  soon  as 
its  end  /  is  depressed  by 
the  handle  r.  The  carriage 
runs  on  the  wheels  d,  d. 
The  drawing  of  the  fillet 
C  is  conducted  as  follows. 
Its  flattened  end  is  intro- 
duced between  the  steel 
cylinders,  and  is  giasped 
l^  the  jaws  a.  The  jaws 
t«m  on  the  pin  c,  and  while 
tho  fillet  is  being  dragged 
UirouKh  tho  cylinders  the 
axle  of  the  wheels  d,  d  tends 
to  increase  the  grip  of  the 
jaws  by  acting  on  their  inclined  ends.     Directly  tho  str^  on  tho 


FlO.  8. — Cutting  Machii 


fillet  is  released,  the  pins  i,  i  and  the  weight  h  loosen  the  jaws  and 
at  the  same  time  raise  the  end  of  the  carriage  so  as  to  ancst  its 
further  progress  along  the  bench.  The .  carriage  is  then  moved 
forward  by  the  handle  s  untU  the  jaws  enter  the  hollowed  portion 
N  and  grasp  another  fillet. 

Foi-merly — when  fillets  were  rolled  from  thick  bars — this  appliance 
played  a  more  important  part  in  coining  operations  than  at  present 
It  is  now  only  used  for  fillets  from  which  sovereigns  and  half- 
sovereigns  are  to  be  produced.  Before  fillets  are  passed  on  to  the  nex  t 
operation — that  of  cutting  from  them  the  disl;s  or  blanks  destined 
to  form  the  coin — they  are  carefully  tested  by  a  skilful  workman 
called  the  "  tryer,"  who  cuts  one  or  two  blanks  from  tho  sides  of  TiTi^g 
each  fillet  by  the  aid  of  a  cutter  worked  by  hand.  The.'iC  blanks 
are  weighed  on  a  delicate  balance  against  a  standard  weight,  and 
tho  experience  of  the  operator  enables  him  to  determine  whether  tho 
variation  from  the  exact  weight  will  justify  his  sending  the  fillets  for- 
ward to  the  cutting  room.  In  any  case  he  divides  the  fillets  into 
two  or  more  classes  for  a  reason  that  will  bo  explained  presently.  _ , 

The  cutters  employed  in  the  mint  until  quite  recently  were  of  Cottill 
complicated  construction,  but  these  have  been  replaced  by  a  simple  blaals. 
machine  (fig.  8)  which,  by  the  revolution  of  an  excentric  A,  causes 
two  short  steel  cylindei'S,  mounted  on  a  block  of  iron  11  suitably 
guided,  to  enter  two  holes  firmly  fixed  in  a  plate  on  the  bed  of  the 
machine.     Wlien  the  fillet  FF  is  i 


machine.     When  tiic  fillet  fi'  is  ^- r~\r\r-^r\r\r^i^\ 

interposed  between  the  short  cylin-  >           Lli^PiJiUiULJ}^ 
dcrsand  the  holes,  the  former  force  £ Q  C ./  O  OOP 


disks  of  metal  through  (ho  holes,  _.      . 

tlic  fillet  being  advanced  at  each  »•    • 

stioko  of  the  machine  by  small  gripping  rolls  C,  C,  C"  actuated  by  a 
ratchet-wheel  E,  driven  from  the  shaft  which  bcare  the  excentric  A. 
Tlio  disks  pass  down  the  tube  G  to  a  receptacle  placed  on  the  floor. 
In  tho  case  of  very  largo  silver  coins,  only  one  disk  is  cut  iji  the 
width  of  the  fillet,  and  in  some  few  mints"  disks  for  gold  coin  are 
also  cut  in  this  way,  but  it  is  far  more  usual  to  cut  two  disks  in 
tho  width  of  tho  fillet,  the  position  of  the  cuttere  being  so  arranged 
as  to  remove  blanks  in  the  manner  shown  in  fig.  9.  In  cutting 
di.^Ics  for  bronze  coin  extreme  precision  is  not  necessary,  and  it  hns 
thercroro  been  found  possible  to  obtain  five  at  each  stroke  of  the 
machine. 


M  i  ^   T 


489 


gbnks. 


It  will  be  evident  that  the  rough  classification  of  the  fillets 
according  to  their  thickness,  to  which  reference  has  already  been 
made,  renders  it  easy  to  compensate  for  slight  irregularities  in  thick- 
ness caused  by  rolling,  by  employin"  cutters  of  a  slightly  larger 
diameter  than  the  standard  size  for  fillets  which  are  too  thin. 

The  fillets  after  the  removal  of  the  disks  present  the  perforated 
appearance  shown  in  fig.  9.  The  residual  metal,  called  "scissel," 
which  amounts  to  from  25  to  30  percent,  of  the  metal  operated  upon, 
is  returned  to  the  melting-house  in  bundles  weighing  180  oz.  It 
may  be  mentioned  hero  that  all  attempts  to  cut  disks  or  blanks  for 
coinage  from  the  ends  of  rods  or  cylinders,  and  thus  to  avoid  the 
pi«duction  of  scissel,  have  hitherto  failed. 

The  next  operation  to  which  the  blanks  are  submitted  varies  in 
different  mints.  In  some,  each  blank  is  weighed  by  hand  or  by 
automatic  machinery,  and  each  blank  that  is  too  heavy  is  adjusted 
either  to  an  exact  weight  or  to  within  the  remedy  prescribed  by 
law.  On  the  Continent  it  is  very  generally  the  practice  to  adjust 
blanks  by  the  aid  of  a  file,  or  by  a  machine  that  removes  a  fine 
shaving  of  metal  from  the  surface  of  the  blank.  In  mints  where 
mechanical  adjustment  isadopted  there  is  a  tendency  to  produce 
' '  too  heavy  "  blanks  in  the  rolling  and  cutting  departments,  as  it  is 
impossible  to  adjust  blanks  which  are  too  light' 


In  the  London  mint  finished  coin  alooe  is  weighed,  so  that  ^ 
blanks  after  leaving  the  cutting  room  pass  directly  to  an  edge-roUinit 
machine,  which  thickens  the  edge  of  each  blank  so  as  to  form  arm 
intended  to  protect  the  impression  on  the  finished  coin  Tlie 
operation  of  edge-rolling  is  called  "marking,"  and  the  method  of 
conducting  it  varies  considerably  in  difierent  mints. 

In  the  Royal  Mint  the  blanks  are  made  to  pass  in  quick  succes- 
sion, at  thp  rate  of  six  hundred  a  minute,  between  a  circular  groove 
in  the  face  of  a  revolving  steel  disk  and  a  groove  in  a  fixed  block 
placed  parallel  to  the  face  of  the  revolving  disk.  The  groove  ia 
the  block  exactly  corresponds  to  that  on  the  disk ;  and  aa  tho 
distance  between  the  block  and  the  disk  is  slightly  less  than 
the  diameter  of  the  blank  submitted  to*  the  operation,  tho  result  ia 
that  before  the  blank  escapes  from  the  machine  its  edge  has  been 
thickened.  The  operation  may  be  varied  by  admitting  the  blanks 
between  a  groove  in  the  periphery  of  a  revolving  wheel  and  a  groora 
in  a  segmented  block,  placed  at  a  distance  from  the  wheel  rather 
less  than  tho  diameter  of  the  blank.  The  wheel  and  block  may  be 
either  vertical  or  horizontal. 

In  some  cases  the  edges  of  the  blanks,  at  the  same  time  that  they 
are  thickened,  receive  the  impression  of  a  legend,  or  inscription,  or 
an  ornamental  device.     Wlien  this  is  tho  case  the  blank  is  rolled 


Fig.  10. 

between  t-*o  planes,  one  of  which  is  fixed  and  bears  tho  device, 
while  the  other  has  a  reciprocating  motion  imparted  to  it,  or  the 
edge  of  the  blank  receives  the  impression,  which  may  be  either  raised 


t  A  description  of  a  machine  lued  for  the  adjoatment  of  hianks  wiU  he  found 
In  rmgler'i  Polirtf^Misehet  Journal  (1882,  ccxl7.  61,  pi.  C) ;  and  eome  years  ago 
Mr  J.  M.  Napier  devised  for  the  Indian  mints  a  heantiful  machine  which  first 
ascertains  hov  much  it  is  necessary  to  cut  from  each  blanlc  lu  order  to  reduce  it 
to  the  standard  weight,  and  then  removes  tho  necessary  amount  of  metai  and 
no  more.  The  initial  cost  of  such  machinery,  however,  is  considerable.  In  1849 
M.  Diereck,  director  of  tho  mint  In  Paris,  endeavoured  to  substitute  a  chemical 
for  a  n'.echanlcal  treatment  by  submitting  the  hea^-y  gold  blanlfs  to  aqua  regia, 
which  it  was  anticipated  would  liring  them  within  the  prescribed  limits  of 
accuracy.  Tho  results  were  not  satisfactory,  and  the  attempt  was  abandoned. 
In  1870  the  present  chemist  of  the  mint,  Professor  W.  Chandler  Roberls,  showed 
thiit  gold  alloyed  with  copper  might  be  removed  from  heavy  blanks  with  singular 
regjlarity  by  means  of  a  suitable  solvent  aided  by  a  battery.  The  blanks  are 
arranged  In  a  frame  of  wood  and  submitted  to  the  action  of  a  solution  of  cyanide 
of  potassium,  the  heavy  blanl^s  forming  the  dissolving  pole  of  the  battery.  Tho 
process  was  not  used  in  the  London  mint,  as  It  became  evident  that  it  could  not 
Brolitably  replace  the  present  system,  under  which  finished  coins  alone  are 
•Svciffhed  and  the  manufacture  of  good  coin  only  is  paid  for.  It  was,  how(»er, 
Introduced  into  tho  Bombay  mint  in  1670  by  the  late  Mr  L.  G.  Hines,  who 
extended  Its  usefulness  by  transfeiTiog  the  metal  di3£r>lved  from  the  heavy 
blanks  to  blanks  which  arc  too  liglit.  tlic  latter  being  by  this  means  raised  to  the 
prescribed  weight.  The  process  has  now  fairly  talcen  its  place  as  an  ordinary 
operation  of  coining,  and  its  importance  to  the  mints  where  it  is  used  may  be 
gathered  from  the  fact  that  In  the  Indian  mints  no  less  than  1300  tons  of  silver 
were  converted  Into  coin  in  one  year  (1879),  so  that  the  a^ving  effected  by  Its 
Introduction  most  be  consideiable. 


Fig.  n. 

or  sunK,  from  a  collar  surrounding  the  blank  in  the  coining  press,  as 
will  be  afterwards  explained. 

Before  passing  to  the  coining  press  the  blanks  either  of  gold  or  innaait 
silver  are  annealed.  In  many  mints  the  object  of  the  heating  is  ing  tha 
not  only  to  soften  the  blanks  before  they  receive  the  impression,  but  o'.nnka. 
also  to  produce  a  film  of  oxide  of  copper  on  their  surface.  This  is 
attained  in  various  ways.  In  England  gold  blanks  are  placed  in 
cylindrical  crucibles  of  plumbago  and  covered  with  a  layer  of  ohai- 
coal,  heated  in  a  reverberatory  furnace,  and  when  the  blanks  reach 
cherry-redness  they  are  cooled  by  plunging  them  in  water.  Tho 
thin  film  of  oxide  of  copper  thus  formed  on  the  surface  of  the  gold 
or  silver  blanks  is  readily  soluble  in  dilute  sulphuric  acid,  and  the 
removal  of  a  small  portion  of  the  alloying  metal  in  this  way  con- 
stitutes "blanching"  or  "pickling"  the  coin.  The  method  ol 
conducting  the  operation  varies  somewhat  in  different  mint^ 
mainly,  however,  in  the  strength  of  the  acid  used,  which  varies  from 
3°  to  5°  of  the  hydrometer  of  Baume.  The  solution  is  sometime 
heated  to  96°  to  98°  C,  while  in  other  cases  tho  blanks  are  intro- 
duced into  the  solution  while  at  a  red  heat.  The  latter  method  is,' 
however,  objectionable,  as  a  dense  layer  of  pure  metal  is  found  at  tha 
surface  of  the  blank  which  is  apt  to  protect  the  underiying  onde  ol 
copper  from  the  action  of  the  acid.  The  blanks  are  aJtenrards 
washed  in  pure  vratcr  and  dried  either  in  sawdust  or  in  copp« 
Tossela  heated  by  steam  jackets.  Tho  object  of  the  process  is  to? 
XVI.  —  62 


490 


HINT 


improTc  the  appearance  of  the  finished  coin  by  removing  all  traces 
of  impurity  from  the  surface  of  the  blank.  It  has,  however,  been 
abandoned  in  the  British  mint  except  in  the  casa  of  some  of  the 
smaller  silver  coins,  mainly  because  the  soft  sxiperficial  layer  of 
metal  wears  away  with  undue  rapidity.  Certain  precautions 
suggested  in  1869  by  Mr  Hill,  the  superintendent  of  the  operative 
department,  for  avoiding  oxidation  or  tarnishing  of  the  metal 
during  coinage  rendered  the  abolition  of  the  process  possible. 
Ooinii^'  -The  blanks  receive  tlie  impression  which  constitutes  thorn  coins 
pre68.  from  engraved  dies.  Each  is  placed  in  the  lower  of  two  dies,  and 
the  upper  die  is  brought  forcibly  down  upon  it.  The  lateral  escape 
of  the  raetal  is  prevented  by  a  collar  which  surrounds  the  blank 
while  it  is  being  strack.  This  collar  may  be  either  plain  or 
engraved,  and  if  tlic  latter  is  the  case  any  device  or  ornament  it 
may  bear  will  be  imparted  to  the  edge  of  the  blank. 

The  coining  presses  used  in  various  mints  may  be  divided  into 
three  types  : — (1)  the  screw  press  worked  by  atmospheric  prcs'-.ure, 
(2)  the  excentric  press,  and  (3)  the  lever  press.  The  fii'st  of  these 
(see  Ency.  Brit.^  8th  ed.,  vol.  vii.  p.  92)  has  now  been  abandoned. 
In  the  excentric  press  the  power  is  applied  to  a  shaft  bearing  an 
excentric  which  acts  by  means  of  a  connecting  rod  upon  a  verti- 
cal slide  holding  the  die  which  is  brought  down  on  the  blank.  This 
form  of  press  is  used  in  the  mint  at  Constantinople,  where  the  atmo- 
spheric screw  press  is  also  still  retained.  Of  the  third  tj^po,  the 
lever  press,  there  are  two  modifications,  devised  respectively  by 
Thonnelier  and  by  Uhlhorn,  The  details  of  the  Uhlhorn  press  have 
been  improved  by  Messrs  R.  Heaton  &  Sons  of  Birmingham  ;  and, 
their  Euperiority  to  the  old  vacuum  screw  press  bavins;  been  demon- 
strated by  careful  experiments,  they  have  been  finally  adopted  in 
the  newly  arranged  mint,  which  contains  fourteen  of  them.  This 
press  is  shown  in  figs.  10  and  11.  It  is  driven  from  below  the 
floor  of  the  press-room  by  bands  which  pass  over  fast  and  loose 
pulleys  on  the  same  shaft  that  bears  the  fiy-wheel.  The  loose 
pulley,  however,  ia  only  used  when  it  is  necessary  to  stop  the 
machine  entirely,  as  the  fly-wheel  is  permitted  to  revolve  without 
imparting  motion  to  the  shaft  so  long  as  a  lever  M,  worked  from 
the  front  of  the  machine,  does  not  cause  the  fly-wheel  to  be  con- 
nected with  the  driving  wheel  by  means  of  two  pins.  The  dies  are 
placed  in  the  front  part  of  the  machine  (fig.  10).  The  lower  one  is 
nrmly  fixed  to  the  bed,  while  the  upper  is  held  at  A  by  the  upper  of 
two  Jaws  F  and  A',  or  levers,  the  fulcra  of  which  are  so  close  together 
as  almost  to  coincide,  the  lower  jaw  A'  bearing  the  collar  which 
encircles  the  blank  while  it  is  being  converted  into  a  coin  ;  the 
upper  Jaw  F,  A,  governed  by  the  weighted  lever  H  shown  below  the 
bed  of  the  machine,  has  a  tendency  to  rise  a  sufiicieut  distance 
to  admit  the  blank  between  the  upper  and  lower  die.  A  crank  B 
on  the  shaft  bearing  the  fly-wheel  is  connected  by  a  rod  C  with 
the  bent  lever  D,  and  this  bent  lever,  acting  through  the  toggle 
joint  and  a  piece  of  metal  E  connected  with  the  jaw  that  bears  the 


Fig.  12. 
upper  die,  forces  it  down,  and  thus  squeezes  the  blank  between  the 
upper  and  lower  dies.  A  cam  on  the  crank  shaft  acting  on  the 
lower  of  the  two  lovers  G  shown  below  the  bed  of  the  machine  causes 
the  loxver  jaw  A'  beai'ing  the  collar  which  surrounded  the  blank 
to  bo  depressed  sufiiciently  to  leave  the  finished  coin  freely  resting 
on  the  lower  die,  from  wh'^nce  it  is  driven  down  the  shoot  N  by  the 
next  blank  in  succession.  Coins  are  produced  at  rates  varying  from 
CO  to  120  a  minute,  90  a  minute  giving  the  best  results.  Tho 
blanks  to  bo  convrted  into  coins  are  placed  on  the  slide  J,  and  tho 
advance  of  each  blank  iu  succession  ia  regulated  by  tho  rod  called 
the  "  layer  on  "  K,  tho  backv.ard  and  forward  movemetit  of  which  is 
also  regulated  by  an  excentric  on  the  crank  shaft.  The  details  of 
thirt  part  of  the  machino  are  shown  in  plan,  fig.  12. 
^ut■.>-  Tiio  last  oi»eration  before  tho  finished  coin  is  returned  to  tho  mint 

£»t^*'       office  for  issue  to  the  public  is  the  weighing  each  gold  or  silver  piece 
■*'*"**^'  separately.    This  is  eliected  in  the  Americt»n  and  in  most  Continental 


'mints  by  hand,  but  in  England  automatic  balances  of  beaatifut 
construction  arc  employed.  They  were  originally  devised  for 
separating  worn  pieces  from  those  of  current  weight,  but  they  are  now 
employed  to  distinguish  between  "light,"  *'heavy,"and  **good" 
pieces,  the  latter  alone  being  permitted  to  pass  into  circulation.  In 
the  newly  arranged  department  thirty  sucn  machines  are  provided. 
Each  is  driven  from  overhead  shafting  by  means  of  gut  lines.  Tlie 
dri\'ing  pulleys  derive  their  motion  from  a  small  atmospheric 
engine,  which  is  found  to  givj  more  satisfactory  results  than  would 
bo  the  case  if  the  steam-engine  were  employed  directly.  Each 
balance  is  worked  by  a  cone  pulley  A  (fig.  13)  by  a'  gut  lino 
passing  round  it  from  the  loose  pulleys  B,  the  necessary  ten- 
sion being  imparted  to  the  line  by  means  of  a  spring  C.  The 
tension  of  the  line  is,  however,  but  slight,  for  if  tho  action  of 
the  balance  is  arrested  by  accident,  the  cord  slides  over  the  cone 
pulley  A  without  turning  it.  It  will  be  obvious  that  the  use  of 
the  cone  pulley  enables  the  machino  to  be  driven  with  varying 
degrees  of  speed.  The  toothed  wheel  D  is  mounted  on  the  spindle 
which  bears  tho  driving  pulley  A,  but  it  acts  only  througli  the 
intervention  of  a  friction  cneek,  which  is  eo  lightly  screwed  against 
the  driving  wheel  that  it  would  cease  to  act  ii  the  machine  should 
be  accidentally  deranged.  The  wheel  D  sets  in  motion  the  wheels 
E,  E',  E".  The  cam  F,  acting  on  the  curved  cxiremity  of  the  rocking 
frame  G,  causes  the  slide  H  to  bring  fom-ard  one  of  a  scries  of  coins 
(arranged  iu  th«  hopper  I)  until  it  rests  on  the  plate  J  of  the  balance 
beam,  qf  which  beam  a  portion  is  shown  in  an  enlarged  drawing 
above  the  balance,  while  the  plate  that  receives  the  coiji  is  also  shown 
in  a  separate  drawing  to  tho  left  of  tho  machine.  Another  cam  K 
then  comes  into  play,  and  enables  tho  forceps,  sho'wn  at  L,  torelea&o 
the  rod  M  to  which  tho  balance  plate  J  is  attached.  Tlie  forceps  L 
serves  to  keep  the  rod  steady  while  tho  coin  is  being  placed  on  tlie 
plate  J.  A  rod  shown  at  N  is  then  raised  by  the  cam  0,  the  lowtr 
extremity  of  the  rod  being  kept  steady  by  a  pin  diding  in  a  hole  in 
the  bottom  plate  of  the  balance,  and  its  upper  end  by  a  pin  which 
works  into  tne  central  support  of  the  balance  beam.  At  tlio  base 
of  this  rod  N",  and  at  right  angles  to  it,  there  is  a  metallic  bar  CiSi, 
the  ends  of  which  pass  through  stiiTuns  in  the  pendants  M  and  V 
from  the  opposite  ends  of  the  beam.  The  elevation  of  this  horizon- 
tal rod  by  the  cam  0  simultaneously  releases  both  ends  of  the  beam, 
and  the  coin  placed  on  the  beam  plate  has  then,  for  the  first  time, 
a  direct  influiiuce  on  the  beam..  If  the  coin  is  "too  light"  the 
counterpoise  R  iu  the  cage  at  the  end  of  the  rod  P  will  raise  the 
coin,  and  the  revolution  of  the  machine  then  causes  part  of  the  cam 
K  to  permit  a  spring  to  close"  the  forceps  L  and  to  hold  the  pendant 
M  firm.  An  indicating  finger  T  then  falls,  and  by  means  of  a 
horizontal  lever  UU',  which  fits  into  one  of  three  inverted  steps  on 
the  bottom  of  the  shoot  V,  determines  over  which  of  three  orifices 
W,  W,W"  in  the  bottom  plate  of  the  balance  this  shoot  shall  stand. 
In  the  meantime  the  advance  of  the  slide  H  brings  tho  next  piece 
forward,  and  displaces  the  coin  which  has  hitherto  occupied  the 
beam  plate  J,  forcing  the  coin  down  the  shoot  V,  and  thence  through 
the  orifice  W  into  a  receptacle,  external  to  the  balance,  destined  for 
the  reception  of  "  light  coin."  If  this  nest  piece  should  be  '*too 
heavy  "  it  will  not  only  raise  the  counterpoise  ii  but  will  also  elevate 
a  little  wire  S,  which  would  otherwise  remain  undisturbed  on  a 
support.  This  little  wire  represents  tho  "working  remedy"  for 
the  particular  denomination  of  coin  in  question,  which,  for  safet}, 
is  Irss  by  -y^th  of  a  grain  tlian  the  remedy  permitted  by  law.  Tht 
undue  weight  of  the  *'  heavy  coin  "  will  depress  the  right  end  of  tlu 
t.^lanco  beam  and  its  pendant  M  to  tho  lowest  possible  point,  an«l 
the  indicating  finger  T  will,  in  this  case,  determine  that  the  rou 
UU'  s'tall  occupy  the  lowest  step  of  the  shoot  V,  which  ^n^l  conse- 
quently stand  over  the  orifice  W  in  the  bottom  plate  of  the  balance 
which  communicates  with  the  receptacle  for  the  "heavy"  coins, 
and  the  heavy  coin  on  tho  beam  plate  will  be  driven  do-mi  the 
slioot  by  the  next  coin  in  succession.  If  the  coin  which  is  nex^ 
brought  fon\'aa'd  by  the  slide  II  should  bo  a  "good"  oue,  that  is, 
if  it  13  within  the  working  "rcmcdy,"it3  action  will  lie  as  follows. 
It  maybe  slightly  heavier  than  tho  counterpoise,  but  not  sufiiciently 
heavy  to  lift  both  the  counterpoise  and  the  remedy  wire.  The 
balance  beam  consequently  remains  approximately  horizontal,  and 
tho  indicating  finger  T  will  cause  the  rod  UU'  to  strike  the  centre 
step  of  tho  shoot  V,  which  will  then  stand  over  tho  central  orifice  AV 
in  tho  bed  plate  which  communicates  with  a  rtoeptacle  for  "goorl" 
coins,  into  which  the  coin  will  find  its  way,  as  soon  as  it  ia  ai*ivci: 
from  tho  beam  plate  by  tho  next  coin  of  tho  series.  It  will  be 
evident  that  this  excellent  appliance  both  weighs  and  classifies  th<; 
coins.  About  twenty-three  coins  are  passed  through  it  in  a  minuta 
In  order  to  show  the  importance  of  extreme  accuracy  in  weighing, 
it  maybe  pointed  out  that,  althongh  by  tlie  Coinage  Act  of  1870  th- 
"iTmedy  or  allowed  variation  abovt  or  below  the  standard  weight 
of  a  sovereign  is  only  \\,\\  of  a  grain,  yet  in  a  million  stcriing  o' 
sovereigns  the  ditfcrcnco  between  tho  least  and  the  greatest  weighs 
the  law  allows  would  be  no  less  than  £3244. 

Tlie  manufacture  of  coin  13  not  the  only  work  whioh  is 
performed  in  the  Koytil  Mint.     AU  medals  i^ued  to  the 


MINT 


491 


araiy  and  navy,  us  well  as  those  given  by  the  Eoyal 
Society  and  the  university  of  London  and  some  others, 
are  struck  in  the  mint,  and  their  preparation  forms  a 
considerable  part  of  the  work  of  the  die  department. 
Since  1874  the  clasps  and  bars  for  the  medals  have  also 
been  manufactured  in  the  mint,  whence  they  have  been 
issued  completely  mounted.  Another  operation,  not  con- 
nected with  the  coinage,  which  is  performed  in  the  mint 


is  the  assiy  of  the  "  diet "  or  metal  scraped  from  the  gold 
and  silver  plate  manufactured  at  Sheffield  and  Birmingham 
under  the  direction  of  the  warden  of  the  standard  of 
wrought  plate  for  those  towns.  By  Act  of  Parliament  it 
is  directed  that  this  shall  be  brought  once  in  each  year  to 
the  mint  to  be  assayed  by  the  "  king's  assay  master " 
under  the  supervision  of  an  officer  appointed  by  the  lords 
of  the  Treasury. 


Fic.  13. — Aotomatic  Balance. 


The  gold  coin  in  circulation  in  Great  Britain  is  esti- 
mated at  £100,000,000.  It  may  be  well  to  add  the 
follo\ving  table,  which  gives  the  value  of  the  gold  and 
silver  coinages  of  four  of  the  most  important  foreign 
countries,  in  two  recent  years  : — 


1880. 

IfSl. 

Gold.         I       Silver. 

Gold.         1       SilTcr. 

UniUd  States 

Germany 

Austria 

£12,461,655:£5,4Sl,94l!£19,370,178'£5,5S7,84d 
1,332,430         ...                  326,8371 
493,605     1,674,712          485,9991    1,805,734 
83,646J       259,910| 

£14,287,690  £7,150,653  £20,266, 66o| £7,653, 484! 

The  value  of  the  gold  coinage  of  the  American  mints 
during  the  fiscal  year  ending  June  1882  amounted  to 
$89,413,447-50, — being  greater  than  that  of  any  previous 
year  in  their  history.  (w.  c.  E. — R.  A.  H.) 

MINT,  botanically  Mentha,  a  genus  of  labiate  plants, 
oopprising  about  twenty  species  of  perennial  herb.s,  widely 
cbstributed  throughout  the  temperate  and  sub-tropical 
portions  of  the  globe.  All  the  species  are  furnished  with 
square  stems,  opposite,  aromatic  leaves,  and  creeping  roots. 
The  flowers  are  arranged  in  axillary  cymes,  which  either 
form  separate  whorls  or  are  crowded  together  into  a  terminal 
spike.    The  corolla  is  usually  small,  and  of  a  pale  purple  or 


pinkish  colour ;  it  has  four  nearly  equal  lobes,  and  encloses 
two  long  and  two  short  stamens.  Great  difficulty  is 
experienced  by  botanists  in  discriminating  the  species  of 
this  genus  by  reason  of  the  occurrence  of  a  large  number 
of  intermediate  forms,  nearly  three  hundred  of  which  have 
been  named  and  described.  Many  of  these  varieties  are 
permanent  in  consequence  of  being  propagated  by  stolons. 
In  Britain  nine  of  the  recognized  species  are  indigen- 
ous. Mentha  viridis,  L.,  or  Spearmint,  grows  in  marshy 
meadows,  and  is  the  species  commonly  used  for  culinary 
purposes ;  it  is  distinguished  by  its  smooth,  sessile  leaves 
and  lax  tapering  flower-spikes.  Mentha  sylveslris,  1.,  or 
Horsemint,  chiefly  differs  from  the  above  in  its  coarser 
iabit  and  hairy  leaves,  which  are  silky  beneath,  and  in  its 
denser  flower-spikes.  This  plant  is  supposed  to  be  the  mint 
of  Scrfpture,  as  it  is  extensively  cultivated  in  the  East,  and 
is  much  used  in  cookery;  it  was  one  of  the  bitter  herbs 
with  which  the  paschal  lamb  was  eaten.  M.  rotundifoli-a 
resembles  the  last  in  size  and  habit,  but  is  readily  distin- 
guished by  its  rounded  wrinkled  leaves,  which  are  shaggy 
beneath,  and  by  its  lanceolate  bracts.  The  last  two  species 
usually  grow  on  damp  waste  ground  near  roadsides.  M. 
aquatica,  or  Capitate  Mint,  grows  in  ditches  and  by  the 
side  of  streams,  and  is  easily  recognized  by  its  rounded 
flower-spikes  and  stalked  hairy  leaves.  M.  Piperita,  or 
Peppermint,  has  stalked  smooth  leaves  and  an  oblong 
obtuse  terminal  spike  of  flowers ;  it  is  extensively  culti- 


492 


M  I  N  —  M  I  R 


■sated  for  its  volatile  oiL  M.  pratensis  belongs  to  a  group 
of  m'"t3  which,  unlike  the  foregoing,  have  the  flowers 
arranged  in  axillaiy  whorls  and  never  in  terminal  spikes ; 
it  othersvise  bears  some  resemblance  in  foliage  and  halit 
to  M.  viridis.  if.  saiiva,  the  Whorled  Hairy  Mint,  growsi 
by  damp  roadsides,  and  M.  arvensis  in  cornfields ;  they 
are  distinguished  from  M.  pralaisis  by  their  hairy  stalked 
leaves,  which  in  M.  arvensis  are  all  equally  large,  but  in 
M.  saliva  are  much  smaller  towards  the  apex  of  the  stem. 
M.  Pulcgium,  commonly  kno\vn  as  Pennyroyal,  more  rarely 
as  Flearmint,  has  small  oval  obtuse  leaves  and  'flowers  in 
axillary'  whorls,  and  is  remarkable  for  its  creeping  habit 
and  peculiar  odour.  It  differs  from  all  the  mints  above 
described  in.  the  throat  of  the  calyx  being  closed  with  hairs. 
It  is  met  with  in  damp  places  on  grassy  common*,  and  forms 
a  well-known  domestic  remedy  for  female  disorders. 

All  the  plants  of  the  genus  Mentha  abound  in  a  volatile 
oil,  which  is  contained  in  small  receptacles  having  the 
appearance  of  resinous  dots  in  the  leaves  and  stems.  The 
odour  of  the  oil  is  similar  in  several  species,  but  is  not  dis- 
tinctive, the  same  odour  occurring  in  varieties  of  distinct 
species,  while  plants  which  cannot  be  distinguished  by  any 
botanical  character  possess  the  same  odour.  Thus 'the 
peppermint  flavour  is  found  in  31.  Piperita,  in  M.  incana, 
and  in  Chinese  and  Japanese  varieties  of  M.  arvensis.  Other 
forms  of  the  last-named  species  growing  in  Ceylon  and  Java 
have  the  flavour  of  the  common  garden  mint,  M.  viridis, 
and  the  same  odour  is  found  to  a  greater  or  less  degree 
in  if.  Sj/ivestris,  if,  rotundifolia,  and  if.  canadensis.  A 
bergamot  scent  is  met  with  in  a  variety  of  if.  aquatica  and 
in  forms  of  other  species.  Most  of  the  mints  may  be  found 
in  blossom  in  August. 

The  name  mint  is  also  applied  to  plants  of  other,  genera, 
Jfonarda  punctata  being  called  Horsemint,  Pycnanthemum 
linifolium,  Mountain  Mint,  and  Nepeta  Caiaria,  Catmint. 

MINTO,  SiE  Gilbert  Elliot,  Fiest  Eakl  of  (1751- 
1814),  was  descended  from  an  old  border  family,  the 
EUiots  of  Minto,  and  was  bom  at  Edinburgh,  April  23, 
1751.  His  father.  Sir  Gilbert  Elliot,  was  a  member  of  the 
administration  of  Pitt  and  Grenville,  and  is  spoken  of  by 
Horace  Walpoleas  "one  of  the  ablest  men  in  the  House  of 
Commons."  Young  Elliot  was  educated  by  a  private  tutor, 
with  whom  at  the  age  of  twelve  he  went  to  Paris,  where 
David  Hume,  who  was  then  secretary  of  the  embassy, 
undertook,  from  friendship  to  his  father,  the  special  charge 
of  superintending  his  studies.  After  spending  the  winters 
of  1766  and  1767  at  Edinburgh  University,  Elliot  entered 
Oxford.  On  quitting  the  university  he  became  a  member 
of  Lincoln's  Inn,  and  was  in  1774  called  to  the  bar.  He 
entered  parliament  in  1776,  the  year  of  his  father's  death. 
Although  he  gave  a  general  support  to  Lord  North's 
administration,  he  from  the  beginning  occupied  an  inde- 
pendent position,  and  in  1782  supported  the  address  of  the 
Commons  against  an  offensive  war  with  America.  From 
this  time  he  became  a  declared  follower  of  Fox  and 
Burke,  with  the  latter  of  whom  he  gradually  came  to  be 
on  terms  of  great  intimacy.  He  was  created  Baron  Minto 
in  1797,  and  after  filling  several  diplomatic  posts  with  great 
success  became  in  1807  governor-general  of  India.  The 
character  and  events  of  his  rule  in  India  are  described 
in  vol.  xii.  p.  805.  He  was  created  Earl  of  Minto  and 
Viscount  Melgund  in  1813.  He  returned  to  England  in 
1814,  and  died  on  Juno  21st  of  that  year. 

Soe  Life  and  Letters  of  Sir  Oilbert  Elliot,  first  Earl  of  Mint), 
from  1751  to  1806, 1874  ;  and  Life  and  Letters,  1807-14, 1880.    Sco 

.llso  MiRABEAU. 

MINUCIUS  FELIX,  Marcts,  one  of  the  earliest,  if  not 
the  earliest,  of  the  Latin  apologists  for  Christianity.  Of 
his  personal  history  nothing  is  known,  and  even  the  date 
»t  which  he  wrote  can  be  oi".ly  approximately  ascertained. 


Jerome  {De  Vir.  III.,  58)  speaks  of  him  as  "Roma 
insignis  cauisidicus,"  but  in  this  he  is  probably  only 
imj^roviug  on  the  e::prC5sion  of  Lactanttus  (/»is<.  Div.,  v.  1) 
who  f;o'i.lis  of  him  as  " non  ignobilis  inter  causidicos  loci." 
He  is  now  exclusively  known  by  his  Octavius,  a  dialogue 
on  Christianity  between  the  pagan  Cscilius  NataUs'  and 
the  Christian  Octavius  Januarios,  a  provincial  solicitor, 
the  friend  and  fellow-student  of  the  author.  .  The  scene  is 
pleasantly  and  graphically  laid  on  the  beach  at  Ostia  on  a 
holiday  afternoon,  and  the  discussion  is  represented  as 
arising  out  of  the  homage  paid  by  Cscilius,  in  passing,  to 
the  image  of  Serapis.  His  arguments  for  paganism,  which 
proceed  partly  upon  agnostic  grounds,  partly  upon  the 
inexpediency  of  disturbing  long-established  religious  beliefs, 
partly  upon  the  known  want  of  culture  in  Christians,  the 
alleged  indecency  of  their  worship,  and  the  itihercnt 
absurdity  of  their  doctrines,  are  taken  up  seriatim  !.y 
Octavius,  with  the  result  that  the  assailant  is  convinced, 
postponing,  however,  the  discussion  of  some  things  neces- 
sary for  perfect  instruction  to  a  future  occasion.  The  form 
of  the  dialogue,  modelled  on  the  De  Natura  Deorum  and 
De  JDivinatione  of  Cicero,  shows  much  care  and  ability,  and 
its  style  is  on  the  -whole  both  vigorous  and  elegant  if  at 
times  not  exempt  from  something  of  the  affectations  of  the 
age.  If  the  doctrines  of  the  Divine  unity,  the  resuiTection, 
and  future  rewards  and  punishments  be  left  out  of  account, 
the  work  has  less  the  character  of  an  exposition  of 
Christianity  than  of  a  philosophical  and  ethical  polemic 
against  the  absurdities  of  crass  polytheism.  Christolcgy 
and  the  other  metaphysics  of  distinctively  Christian 
theology  are  entirely  passed  over,  and  the  canonical 
Scriptures  are  not  quoted,  hardly  even  alluded  to. 

The  Octavius  is  admittedly  earlier  than  Cyprian's  De  Idolomm 
Vanitate,  which  borrows  frmm  it ;  how  much  earlier  can  be  deter- 
mined only  by  settling  the  relation  iu  which  it  stands  to  Tertnlliau'a 
Apologclicum.  "The  argument  for  the  priority  of  Minuciua  liaa 
been  most  exhaustively  set  forth  by  Ebert  ( "  TertuUians  Verhalt- 
nis3  zu  Minucius  Felix,"  in  vol.  v.  of  the  philolos;ico-hisiorical 
series  in  Ahhandl.  d.  KSnig.  Sdchs.  Gesdlsch.  dcr  Wissenxhaflfn, 
1S68),  who  has  been  followed  by  Teuffel  {Mom.  Lit.,  sec.  308),  Eein- 
(Celsus'  Wahres  Wort,  1873),  Kuhn,  and  other  scholars.  The 
opposite  view  is  ably  maintained  by  Professor  Salmon  ("Minncins 
Felix"  in  Smith's  Diet.  Christ.  Bicgr.,  1882).  '  The  Octavius  was 
fii-st-printed  (Rome,  1643)  as  the  eighth  book  of  Aruobius  Adv. 
Gerties  ;  Balduinus  (Heidelberg,  1500)  first  assigned  it  to  its  proper 
author.  There  have  been  numerous  subsequent  editions,  the  best 
being  that  of  Halm  in  the  Corp.  Scriptor.  Eccl.  Lat.  (Vienna,  1867). 
Sec  Kuhu's  monograph,  Dcr  Octavius  dcs  Minucius  Felix  (1882). 

MINUET  (Fr.  ilenuet,  from  [pas]  mentis),  a  very  grace- 
ful kind  of  dance,  consisting  of  acoupee,  a  high  step,  and 
a  balance.  Its  invention  is  universally  ascribed  to  the 
inhabitants  of  Poitou.  The  melody  begins  with  the  down 
beat,  and  contains  three  crotchets  in  a  bar.  The  music  is 
made  up  of  two  strains,  which,  from  being  repeated,  are 
called  repj'ises,  each  consisting  of  eight  or  more  bars,  but 
very  rarely  of  an  odd  number.  Walther  speaks  of  a  minuet 
in  LuUy's  opera  of  Roland,  each  strain  of  which  contains 
ten  bars,  the  sectional  number  being  five, — a  circumstance 
which  renders  it  very  difficult  to  be  danced ;  but  Luily's 
system  of  phrasing  was  remarkably  irrtgidar.  ■  Modern 
instrumental  composers  have  introduced  into  their  sym- 
phonies and  quartetts,  <fcc.,  minuets  of  rapid  movement 
and  fanciful  character,  followed  by  supplementary  strains 
(called  trios)  in  a  different  style.  Some  of  these  composi- 
tions bear  but  very  slight  resemblance  to  the  older  forms ; 
and  many  of  them  begin  \vith  the  third  beat  in  the  bar. 
The  finest  minuets  we  possess  are  those  in  Handel's  Samson 
and  Mozart's  Don  Giovanni. 

MIRABEAU,  HoNORi  Gabriel  Riqueti,  Comtb  dk, 
(1749-1791),  one  of  the  greatest  statesmen  and  orators 


'  This  nnmo  occurs  in  six  inscriptions  of  the  years  211-217  found  at 
Const.intino  (Cirta),  North  Africa  (C.  /.  L.,  vol.  viii.). 


MIKABEAU 


49.2- 


France  has  ever  produced,  was  bom  at  Bigaon,  near 
Nemours,  on  March  S,  1749.  M.  de  Lom^nie  has  shown 
that  the  family  of  Eiquet  or  Riqueti  came  originally  from  the 
little  town  of  Digue,  that  they  won  wealth  and  municipal 
honours  as  merchants  at  Marseilles,  and  that  in  1570  Jean 
Riqueti  bought  the  chateau  and  estate  of  Mirabeau,  which 
had  up  to  that  time  belonged  to  the  great  Provenjal  family 
of  Barras,  and  took  the  title  of  esquire  a  few  years  later. 
In  1685  Honors  Eiqueti  obtained  the  title  of  Marquis  de 
Mirabeau,  and  his  son  Jean  Antoine  brought  honour  to  it. 
He  served  with  distinction  through  all  the  later  campaigns 
of  the  reign  of  Louis  XIV.,  and  especially  distinguished 
himself  in  1705  at  the  battle  of  Cassano,  where  he  was  so 
severely  wounded  in  the  neck  that  he  had  ever  after  to  wear 
a  silver  stock ;  yet  he  never  rose  above  the  rank  of  colonel, 
owing  to  his  eccentric  habit  of  speaking  unpleasant  truths 
to  his  superiors.  On  retiring  from  the  service  he  married 
Fran^oise  de  Castellane,  a  remarkable  woman,  who  long 
survived  him,  and  he  left  at  his  death,  in  1737,  three  sons 
— Victor,  Marquis  de  Mirabeau  (see  next  article),  Jean 
Antoine,  Bailli  de  Mirabeau,  and  Comte  Louis  Alexandre  de 
Mirabeau.  The  great  Mirabeau  was  the  elder  surviving 
son  of  the  marquis.  When  but  three  years  old  he  had 
a  virulent  attack  of  confluent  small-pox  which  left  his 
face  for  ever  disfigured,  and  contributed  not  a  little  to 
nourish  his  father's  dislike  to  him.  His  early  education 
was  conducted  by  Lachabeaussi6re,  father  of  the  better 
known  man  of  letters,  after  which,  being  like  his  father 
and  grandfather  destined  for  the  anny,  then  the  only 
profession  open  to  young  men  of  family,  he  was  entered 
at  a  pension  militaire  at  Paris,  kept  by  an  AbbiS  Choquart. 
Of  this  school,  which  had  Lagrange  for  its  professor  of 
mathematics,  we  have  an  amusing  account  in  the  life  of 
Gilbert  Elliot,  first  earl  of  Minto,  who  with  his  brother 
Hugh,  afterwards  British  minister  at  Berlin,  there  made 
the  acquaintance  of  Mirabeau,  an  aoquaintance  which 
soon  ripened  into  friendship,  and  to  which  Mirabeau  in 
later  life  owed  his  introduction  into  good  English  society. 
On  leaving  this  school  in  1767  he  received  a  commission 
in  the  cavalry  regiment  of  the  Marquis  de  Lambert,  which 
his  grandfather  had  commanded  years  before.'  He  at  once 
began  love  making,  and  in  spite  of  his  ugliness  succeeded 
in  winning  the  heart  of  the  lady  to  whom  his  colonel  was 
attached,  which  led  to  such  scandal  that  his  father  obtained 
a  lettre  de  cachet,  and  the  young  scapegrace  was  imprisoiied 
in  the  isle  of  Rh6.  The  love  affairs  of  Mirabeau  form 
quite  a  history  by  themselves,  and  a  well-known  history, 
owing  to  the  celebrity  of  the  letters  to  Sophie ;  and  the 
behaviour  of  the  marquis  in  perpetually  imprisoning  his 
son  is  equally  well  known,  and  as  ividely  blamed.  Yet  it 
may  be  asserted  that  until  the  more  durable  and  more 
reputable  connexion  with  Madame  de  Nehra  these  love 
episodes  were  the  most  disgraceful  blemishes  in  a  life 
ather\*'i3e  of  a  far  higher  moral  character  than  has  been 
commonly  supposed.  As  to  the  marquis,  his  use  of  lettres 
de  cachet  is  perfectly  defensible  on  the  theory  of  the  exist- 
ence of  lettres  de  cachet  at  all  They  were  meant  to  be 
used  (see  Lettres  de  Cachet)  by  heads  of  families  for 
the  correction  of  their  families,  and  Mirabeau,  if  any  son, 
surely  deserved  such  correction.  Further,  they  did  have 
the  effect  of  sobering  the  culprit,  and  the  more  creditable 
part  of  his  life  did  not  begin  till  he  left  Vincennes. 
Anrabeau,  it  may  be  remarked  at  once,  was  not  a  states- 
man of  the  Alcibiades  type,  and  he  did  not  develop  his 
great  qualities  of  mind  and  character  until  his  youthful 
"excesses  were  over.  These  will  be  passed  over  as  rapidly 
as  possible,  for  it  was  not  till  1781  that  the  qualities  which 
made  him  great  began  to  appear. 

On  being  released  from  his  first  imprisonment,  the  young 
count,  who  had  always  intended  to  continue  his  military 


career,  obtained  leave  to  accompany  as  a  volunteer  thff 
French  expedition  which  was  to  effect  the  reduction  of 
Corsica.  The  conquest  was  one  of  sheer  numerical 
strength,  for  the  whole  population  was  on  the  side  of 
Paoli,  and  Mirabeau,  perceiving  the  value  of  public  opinion, 
is  said  to  have  written  a  treatise  on  the  oppression  tlia 
Genoese  had  formerly  exercised  over  the  island,  which  the 
Govenmient  was  ready  to  publi.sh  had  not  the  Marquis  de 
Mirabeau  thought  fit  to  destroy  it  because  of  its  divergence 
from  his  own  philosophical  and  economical  views.  For  his 
services  in  Corsica  Mirabeau  was  made  a  captain  of 
dragoons,  though  not  in  any  particular  regiment,  and  on  his 
return  his  father  endeavoured  to  make  use  of  the  literary 
ability  he  had  shown  for  the  advancement  of  his  own 
economical  theories.  He  tried  to  keep  on  good  terms  with 
his  father,  though  he  could  not  advocate  all  his  ideas,  and 
even  went  so  far  in  1772  as  to  marry  a  rich  heiress,  a 
daughter  of  the  Marquis  de  Marignane,  whose  alliance  his 
father  had  procured  for  him.  He  did  not  live  happily 
with  her,  and  in  1774  was  ordered  into  semi-exile  in  the 
country,  at  his  father's  request,  where  he  wrote  his  earliest 
extant  work,  the  JEssai  eur  le  JDespoiisme.  His  violent  dis- 
position now  led  him  to  quarrel  with  a  country  gentleman 
who  had  insulted  his  sister,  and  his  serai-exile  was  changed 
by  lettre  de  cachet  into  imprisonment  in  the  Chateau  d'If. 
In  1775  he  was  removed  to  the  castle  of  Joux,  to  which, 
however,  he  was  not  very  closely  confined,  having  full 
leave  to  visit  in  the  town  of  Pontarlier.  Here  he  met 
Marie  Therfese  de  Monnier,  his  Sopliie  as  he  called  her,  a 
married  woman,  for  whom  he  conceived  a  violent  passion. 
Of  his  behaviour  nothing  too  strong  can  be  said :  ho  was 
introduced  into  the  house  as  a  friend,  and  betrayed  his 
trust  by  inducing  Madame  de  Monnier  to  fall  in  love  with 
him,  and  all  his  excuses  about  overwhelming  passion  only 
make  his  conduct  more  despicable.  The  affair  ended  by  his 
escaping  to  Swtzerland,  where  Sophie  joined  hkn ;  they 
then  went  to  Holland,  where  he  lived  by  hack-work  for  the 
booksellers ;  meanwhile  Mirabeau  had  been  condemned  to 
death  at  Pontarlier  for  rapt  el  vol,  of  which  he  was  certainly 
not  guilty,  as  Sophie  had  followed  him  of  her  own  accord, 
and  in  May  1777  ho  was  seized  by  the  French  police,  and 
imprisoned  by  a  lettre  de  cachet  in  the  castle  of  Vincennes. 
There  he  remained  three  years  and  a  half,  and  witli  his 
release  ends  the  first  and  most  disgraceful  period  of  his  life. 
During  his  imprisonment  he  seems  to  have  learnt  to  control 
his  passions  from  their  very  e.xhaustion,  for  the  early  part 
of  his  confinement  is  marked  by  the  indecent  letters  to 
Sophie  (first  published  in  1793),  and  the  obscene  Erotica 
Biblioii  and  Ma  Conversion,  while  to  the  later  months 
belongs  his  first  political  work  of  any  value,  the  Lettres 
de  Cachet.  The  Essai  sur  le  Despotisme  was  an  ordinary 
but  at  times  eloquent  declamation,  showing  in  its  illustra^ 
tions  a  wide  miscellaneous  knowledge  of  history,  but  the 
Lettres  de  Cachet  exhibits  a  more  accurate  knowledge  of 
French  constitutional  history  skilfully  applied  to  an 
attempt  to  show  that  an  existing  actual  grievance  was  not 
only  philosophically  unjust  but  constitutionally  illegal  It 
shows,  though  still  in  rather  a  diffuse  and  declamatory 
form,  that  application  of  wide  historical  knowledge,  keen 
philosophical  perception,  and  genuine  eloquence  to  a 
practical  purpose  which  was  the  great  characteristic  of 
Mirabeau,  both  as  a  political  thinker  and  as  a  statesman. 

With  his  release  from  Vincennes  begins  the  second  period 
of  Mirabeau's  life.  He  found  that  his  Sophie  was  an  ideal- 
ized version  of  a  rather  common  and  ill-educated  woman, 
and  she  speedily  consoled  herself  with  the  affection  of  a 
young  officer,  after  whose  death  she  committed  suicide. 
Mirabeau  first  set  to  work  to  get  the  sentence  of  death  still 
hanging  over  him  reversed,  and  by  his  eloquence  not  only 
succeeded  but  got  M.  de  Monnier  condemned  in  the  costs  of 


494 


MIKAHEAU 


the  wliole  law  proceeJiugs.  From  Pontarlier  he  went  to 
Aix,  where  he  ckimed  the  court's  order  that  his  wife  should 
return  to  him.  She  naturally  objected,  but  his  eloquence 
would  have  won  his  case,  even  agaiust  Portalis,  the  leader 
of  the  Ai'y  bar,  had  he  not  in  his  excitement  accused  his 
wife  of  infidelity,  on  which  the  court  pronounced  a  decree 
of  separation.  He  then  with  his  usual  impetuosity  inter- 
vened in  the  suit  pending  between, his  father  and  mother 
before  the  parlement  of  Paris,  and  so  violently  attacked 
the  ruling  powers  that  he  had  to  leave  France  and  again  go 
to  Holland,  and  try  to  live  by  literary  work.  About  this 
time  began  his  connexion  with  Madame  de  Nehra,  which 
sweetened  the  ensuing  years  of  toil  and  brought  o^t  the 
better  points  of  his  character.  She  was  the  daughter  of. 
Zwier  van  Haren,  a  Dutch  statesman  and  political  writer, 
and  was  a  woman  of  a  far  higher  type  than  Sophie,  more 
educated,  more  refined,  and  more  capable  of  appreciating 
Mirabeau's  good  points  and  helping  him  to  control  his 
passions.  With  her  the  lion  became  a  lamb,  and  his  life 
was  strengthened  by  the  love  of  his  jyetite  horde,  Madame 
de  Nehra,  her  baby  son,  afterwards  Lucas  de  Jlontigny, 
and  his  little  dog  Chico.  After  a  period  of  work  in 
Holland  he  betook  himself  to  England,  where  his  treatise  on 
Leltres  de  Cachet  had  been  much  admired,  and  where  he 
was  soon  admitted  into  the  best  Whig  literary  and  political 
society  of  London,  through  his  old  schoolfellow  Gilbert  Elliot, 
who  had  now  inherited  his  father's  baronetcy  and  estates, 
and  become  a  leading  Whig  member  of  parliament.  Sir 
Gilbert  introduced  him  freely,  but  of  all  his  English  friends 
none  seem  to  have  been  so  intimate  with  him  as  Lord  Lans- 
downe,  and  Mr  (afterwards  Sir  Samuel)  Romilly.  The 
latter  became  particularly  attached  to  him,  and  really 
understood  his  character  ;  and  it  is  strange  that  his  remarks 
upon  Mirabeau  in  the  fragment  of  autobiography  which 
he  left,  and  Mirabeau's  letters  to  him,  should  have  been 
neglected  by  French  writers.  Romilly  was  introduced  to 
Jlirabeau  by  D'lvernois,  and  readily  undertook  to  translate 
the  Consideration  on  ike  Order  of  Cincinnaius.  Konully 
writes  thus  of  him  in  his  autobiography  : — 

"  The  count  was  difficult  enough  to  please  ;  he  was  sufficiently 
impressed  with  tlie  beauties  of  the  original.  He  went  over  every 
part  of  the  translation  with  nic,  observed  on  every  passage  in  which 
jusfite  was  not  done  to  the  thought  or  the  force  of  the  expression 
lost,  and  made  many  useful  criticisms.  During  this  occupation 
we  had  occasion  to  see  one  another  often,  and  became  very  inti- 
mate ;  and,  as  he  had  read  nnich,  had  seen  a  great  deal  of  the  world, 
was  acquainted  with  all  the  most  distinguished  persons  who  at  that 
time  adorned  either  the  royal  court  or  the  republic  of  letters  in 
Fr.Tjice,  had  a  great  knowledge  of  French  and  Italian  literature,  and 
possessed  very  good  taste,  his  conversation  was  e.^trei\iely  interest- 
ing and  not  a  little  instructive.  I  had  such  frequent  opportunities 
of  seeing  him  at  this  time,  and  afterwards  at  a  much  more  import- 
ant period  of  his  life,  that  I  think  his  character  was  well  known 
to  me.  I  doubt  whether  it  has  been  so  well  known  to  the  world, 
and  I  am  convinced  tliat  great  injustice  has  been  done  him.  This, 
indeed,  is  not  surprising,  wiien  one  considcis  that,  from  the  first 
moment  of  his  entering  upon  the  career  of  au  author,  he  had  been 
altogether  indifferent  how  numerous  or  how  powerful  might  be  the 
enemies  ho  should  provoke.  His  vanity  was  certainly  excessive  ; 
but  I  have  no  doubt  that,  in  his  public  conduct  as  well  as  in  his 
writings,  he  was  desirous  of  doing  good,  that  his  ambition  was  of 
the  noblest  kind,  and  that  he  proposed  to  himself  the  noblest  ends. 
}fe  was,  however,  like  ma\iy  of  his  countrymen,  who  weve  active  in 
the  calamitous'KcvoIution  which  afterwards  took  place,  not  suffi- 
ciently scrupulous  about  the  means  by  which  those  ends  were  to  be 
accomplished.  He  indeed  to  some  degree  professed  this ;  and  more 
than  once  I  have  heard  him  say  that  there  were  occasions  upon 
which  Ma  petite  morale  (itait  cnncniie  do  la  grande.'  It  is  not  sur- 
)irising  that  with  such  maxims  as  these  in  his  mouth,  unguimled 
ill  his  expressions,  and  careless  of  his  reputation,  he  sliould  have 
afforded  room  for  the  circulation  of  many  stories  to  his  disaJvan- 
tigo.  Violent,  impetuous,  conscious  of  the  superiority  of  his 
talents,  and  the  dcckred  enemy  and  denouncer  of  every  species  of 
tyianny  and  oppression,  ho  could  nnt  fail  to  shock  tlio  prejudices, 
to  opposie  the  interests,  to  excite  the  jealousy,  and  to  wound  tho 
piido  of  many  descriptions  of  poraons.  A  mode  of  refuting  his 
works,  open  to  the  basest  and  vilest  of  mankind,  was  to  represent 


him  as  a  monster  of  vice  and  profligacy.  A  scandal  once  set  on 
foot  is  strengthened  and  propagated  by  many,  who  have  no  nialica 
against  tho  object  of  it.  They  delight  to  talk  of  what  is  extraordi- 
nary ;  and  what  more  extraordinary  than  a  person  ao  admirable  for 
his  talents  and  so  contemptible  for  his  conduct,  professing  in  faJB 
writings  principles  so  excellent  and  in  all  the  offices  of  public  and 
private  life  putting  in  practice  those  which  are  so  detestable  ?  J 
indeed  possessed  demonstrative  evidence  of  the  falsehood  of  some  of 
the  anecdotes  which  by  men  of  high  character  were  related  to  hia 
prejudice." — Life  of  Sir  S.  Jiomilli/,  vol.  i.  p.  58. 

This  luminous  judgment,  the  best  that  is  extant  on  the 
character  of  Mirabeau,  deserved  to  be  quoted  at  length ;  it 
must  be  noted  that  it  was  wxitten  by  a  man  of  acknow- 
ledged purity  of  life,  who  admired  Mirabeau  in  early  life, 
not  when  he  was  a  statesman,  but  when  he  was  only  a 
struggling  literary  man.  This  close  association  with 
Romilly,  and  his  friends  Baynes,  Trail,  and  AVilson,  does 
credit  to  Mirabeau,  and  must  have  helped  that  moral 
revolution  against  his  passions  which  was  passing  within 
him.  He  was  a  warm  friend,  and  first  made  Romilly 
acquainted  with  Lord  Lansdowne,  and  tried  to  get  him  a 
seat  in  parliament.  Lord  Lansdowne  was  himself  an 
extraordinary  man,  and  the  first  of  the  new  AVhigs  might 
well  feel 'sympathy  with  the  statesman  of  the  French 
Revolution.  The  CoTisiderations  &ur  I'ordre  de  Cincinnatus 
which  Romilly  translated  was  the  only  important  work 
Mirabeau  wrote  in  the  year  1785,  arid  it  is  a  good  speci- 
men of  his  method.  He  had  read  a  pamphlet  published  in 
America  attacking  the  proposed  order,  which  was  to  form 
a  bond  of  association  between  the  officers  who  had  fought 
in  the  American  War  of  Independence  against  England ; 
the  arguments  struck  him  as  true  and  valuable,  so  he 
rearranged  them  in  his  o^vn  fashion,  and  rewrote  them  in 
his  own  oratorical  style.  He  soon  foiuid  such  work  not 
sufficiently  remunerative  to  keep  his  "petite  horde"  in 
comfort,  and  then  turned  his  thoughts  to  employment  from 
the  French  foreign  office  either  in  wTiting  or  in  diplomacy. 
He  first  sent  Madame  de  Nehra  to  Paris  to  make  his  peace 
with  the  authorities,  in  which  she  was  completely  successful, 
and  then  returned  himself,  hoping  to  get  employment 
through  an  old  literary  coUaborateur  of  his,  Durival,  who 
was  at  this  time  director  of  the  finances  of  the  department 
of  foreign  affairs.  One  of  the  functions  of  this  official  was 
to  subsidize  political  pamphleteers,  and  Mirabeau  had 
hoped  to  be  so  employed,  but  he  ruined  his  chances  by  a 
series  of  financial  works.  On  his  return  to  Paris  he  had 
become  acquainted  with  Clavieres,  a  Genevese  exile,  who 
was  minister  of  finance  during  the  Revolution,  and  lyho 
now  introduced  him  to  a  banker  named  Panchaud.  From 
them  he  heard  plenty  of  abuse  of  stock-jobbing,  and  seizing 
their  ideas  he  began  to  regard  stock-jobbing,  or  agiotage,  as 
the  source  of  all  evil,  and  to  attack  in  his  usual  vehement 
style  the  Banque  de  St  Charles  and  the  Compagnie  dcs 
Eaux.  This  was  at  least  disinterested  on  his  part,  for. 
while  his  supporters  were  poor,  tho  bankers  he  attacket! 
were  rich,  and  would  gladly  have  bought  his  silence  ;  but 
Mirabeau,  though  ever  ready  to  take  money  for  what  he 
wrote,  never  sold  his  opinions,  or  wrote  what  ho  did  not 
really  believe.  The  very  eloquence  of  his  style  rests  upon 
the  enthusiastic  conviction  that  he  himself  was  right,  and 
those  who  differed  from  him  were  stupidly  and  wilfully 
wrong.  This  last  pamphlet  brought  him  into  a  contro- 
versy with  Beaumarchais,  who  certainly  did  not  get  the 
best  of  it,  but  it  lost  him  any  chance  of  literary  employ- 
ment from  Government.  However,  his  ability  was  too 
great  to  be  neglected  by  a  great  minister  such  as  M.  de 
Vcrgennes  undoubtedly  was,  and  after  a  preliminary  tour 
in  the  early  spring  of  178G  he  was  despatched  in  Jimo 
1786  on  a  secret  mission  to  the  court  of  Prussia,  from 
which  he  returned  in  January  1787,  and  of  which  Le  gave 
a  full  account  in  his  Hiaioire  Secrete  de  la  Cour  de  Berlin. 


MIRABEAU 


496 


The  months  he  spent  al  Berlin  were  important  or.ea  in  the 
history  of  Prnssia,  for  in  them  Frederick  the  Great  died. 
The  letters  just  mentioned  show  clearly  what  Mirabeau  did 
and  what  he  saw,  and  equally  clearly  how  unfit  he  was  to 
be  a  diplomatist ;  for,  with  all  his  knowledge  of  men  and 
his  influence  over  them,  he  thought  (and  showed  he 
thought)  too  much  of  himself  ever  to  be  able  to  surprise 
their  secret  thoughtj  and  intentions.  He  certainly  failed 
to  conciliate  the  new  king  Frederick  William ;  and  thus 
ended  Mirabeau'a  one  attempt  at  diplomacy.  During  his 
journey  he  had  made  the  acquaintance  of  a  Major  Mauvillon, 
whom  he  found  possessed  of  a  great  number  of  facts  and 
statistics  \nth  regard  to  Prus-sia ;  these  he  made  use  of  in 
a  great  work  on  Prussia  published  in  1788,  as  Romilly 
says,  to  show  that  he  could  write  more  than  a  fugitive 
pamphlet.  Uut,  though  his  Monarchie  Prumenne  gave 
him  a  general  reputation  for  historical  learning,  he  had  in 
this  same  year  lost  a  chance  of  political  employment.  He 
had  offered  himself  as  a  candidate  for  the  office  of  secretary 
to  the  Assembly  of  Notables  which  the  king  had  just  con- 
vened, and  to  bring  his  namo  before  the  public  published 
another  financial  work,  the  Denonciaiion  de  ["Agiotage, 
dedicated  to  the  king  and  notables,  which  abounded  in 
such  violent  diatribes  that  he  not  only  lost  his  election,  but 
was  obliged  to  retire  to  Tongres ;  and  he  further  injured  his 
prospects  by  publishing  the  reports  he  had  sent  in  during 
his  secret  mission  at  Berlin.  But  17S9  was  at  hand;  the 
states-general  was  summoned ;  Mirabeau's  period  of  pro- 
bation was  over,  and  he  was  at  last  to  have  that  oppor- 
tunity of  showing  his  great  qualities  both  as  statesman- 
and  orator  on  a  worthy  arena. 

On  hearing  of  the  king's  determination  to  summon 
the  states-general,  Mirabeau  started  for  Provence,  and 
offered  to  assist  at  the  preliminary  conference  of  the 
noblesse  of  his  district.  They  rejected  him ;  he  appealed 
to  the  tiers  etai,  and  was  returned  both  for  Aix  and  for 
Marseilles.  He  elected  to  sit  for  the  former  city,  and  was 
present  at  the  opening  of  the  states-general  on  May  i, 
1789.  From  this  time  the  record  of  Mirabeau's  life  forms 
the  best  history  of  the  first  two  years  of  the  Constituent 
Assembly,  for  at  every  important  crisis  his  voice  is  to  bo 
heard,  though  his  advice  was  not  always  followed.  It  is 
impossible  here  to  detail  minutely  the  history  of  these  two 
eventful  years ;  it  mil  be  rather  advisable  to  try  and 
analyse  the  manner  in  which  Mirabeau  regarded  passing 
events,  and  then  shoiv  how  his  policy  justifies  our  analysis. 

Mirabeau  pos-ses-sed  at  the  same  time  great  logical 
acuteness  and  most  passion  ite  enthusiasm ;  he  was  there- 
fore both  a  statesman  and  an  orator,  and  the  interest  of 
the  last  two  years  of  his  life  lies  mainly  in  the  gradual  but 
decided  victory  of  the  statesmanlike  and  practical  over  the 
impulsive  and  oratorical  qualities.  From  the  beginning 
Mirabeau  recognized  that  government  exists  in  order  that 
the  bulk  of  the  population  may  pursue  their  daily  work  in 
peace  and  quiet,  and  that  for  a  Government  to  be  successful 
it  must  bo  strong.  In  this  practical  view  of  the  need  of  a 
strong  executive  lies  one  of  Mirabeau's  greatest  titles  to  the 
name  of  statesman.  At  the  same  time  he  thoroughly  com- 
prehended that  for  a  Government  to  be  strong  it  must  be 
in  harmony  with  the  wishes  of  the  majority  of  the  people, 
and  that  the  political  system  of  Louis  XIV.  was  now  fall- 
ing for  lack  of  this.  He  had  carefully  studied  the  English 
constitution  in  England  under  the  guidance  of  such  men 
as  Lord  Lansdowne,  Sir  Gilbert  Elliot,  and  Romilly,  and 
■appreciated  it  with  the  wise  approval  of  its  powers  of  ex- 
j^nsion  which  characterized  the  new  Whigs,  and  not  with 
the  blind  admiration  of  Burke.  He  understood  the  key- 
notes of  the  practical  success  of  the  English  constitution 
to  be  the  irresponsibility  of  the  king,  the  solidarity  of  the 
ministers,  and  the  selection  of  the  executive  from  among 


the  majority  of  the  representatives  of  tho  country ;  and  he 
hoped  to  establish  in  France  a  system  similar  in  principle, 
but  without  any  slavish  imitation  of  the  details  of  the 
English  constitution. 

In  the  first  stage  of  the  history  of  the  states-general 
Mirabeau's  part  was  very  great.  He  was  soon  recognized 
as  a  leader,  to  the  chagrin  of  Mounier,  because  he  always 
knew  his  own  mind,  and  v,as  prompt  at  emergencies.  To 
him  is  to  be  attributed  the  successfid  consolidation  of  the 
National  Assembly,  its  continuance  in  spite  of  De  Brez4  and 
the  carpenters,  and  the  address  to  the  king  for  the  with- 
drawal of  the  troops  assembled  by  De  Broglie.  When  the 
taking  of  the  Bastille  had  assured  the  success  of  the 
Revolution,  he  was  the  one  man  who  warned  the  ^Vssembly 
of  the  futility  of  passing  fine-sounding  decrees  and  the 
necessity  for  acting.  He  declared  that  the  famous  night 
of  August  4  was  but  an  orgy,  giving  the  people  an 
immense  theoretical  liberty  while  not  assisting  them  to 
practical  freedom,  and  overthrowing  the  old  regime  before 
a  new  one  could  be  constituted.  Still  more  did  he  show 
his  foresight  when  he  attacked  the  dilatory  behaviour  of 
the  Assembly,  which  led  to  the  catastrophes  of  the  5th  and 
6th  October.  He  implored  the  Assembly  to  strike  while 
the  iron  was  hot,  and  at  once  solve  in  a  practical  maimer 
the  difficult  problems  presented  by  the  abolition  of 
feudalism.  But  the  Assembly  consisted  of  men  inexperi- 
enced in  practical  politics,  who  dreamed  of  dravring  up  an 
ideal  constitution  preluded  by  a  declaration  of  rights  in 
imitation  of  the  Americans;  and  for  two  months  the 
Assembly  discussed  in  what  words  the  declaration  should 
be  expressed,  while  the  country  vras  in  a  state  of  anarchy, 
declaring  old  laws  and  customs  abolished  and  having  no 
new  ones  to  obey  or  follow,  disowning  the  old  adminis- 
trative system  and  having  no  new  one  yet  instituted,  while 
Paris  was  starving  and  turbulent,  and  the  queen  and  her 
friends  planning  a  coimter-revolution.  The  result  of  these 
two  months'  theorizing  was  the  march  of  the  women  to 
Versailles,  and  the  transfer  of  the  king  to  Paris.  Mirabeau 
now  saw  clearly  that  his  eloquence  would  not  enable  him 
to  guide  the  Assembly  by  himself,  and  that  he  must  there- 
fore try  to  get  some  support.  He  ■wished  to  establish  a 
strong  ministry,  wliich  shoidd  be  responsible  like  an 
English  ministry,  but  to  an  assembly  chosen  to  represent 
the  people  of  France  better  than  the  English  House  of 
Commons  then  represented  England.  He  first  thought  of 
becoming  a  minister  at  a  very  early  date,  if  we  may  believe 
a  story  contained  in  the  Mhnoires  of  the  Duchesse 
d'Abrantes,  to  the  effect  that  in  May  1789  the  queen  tried 
to  bribe  him,  but  that  he  refused  to  be  bribed  to  silence, 
and  expressed  his  wish  to  be  a  minister.  The  indignation 
^^'ith  which  the  queen  repelled  the  idea  may  have  been 
the  cause  of  his  thinking  of  the  Due  d'Orleans  as  a  possible 
constitutional  king,  because  his  title  would  of  necessity  bo 
parliamentary.  But  the  weakness  of  Orleans  was  too 
palpable,  and  in  a  famous  remark  Mirabeau  expressed  his 
utter  contempt  for  him.  He  also  attempted  to  form  an 
alliance  with  Lafayette,  but  the  general  was  as  vain  and 
as  obstinate  as  Mirabeau  himself,  and  had  his  own  theories 
about  a  new  French  constitution.  Slirabeau  tried  for  a 
time,  too,  to  act  with  Necker,  and  obtained  tlTe  sanction  of 
the  Assembly  to  Keeker's  financial  scheme,  not  because  it 
was  good,  but  because,  as  he  said,  "no  other  plan  was 
before  them,  and  something  nmst  be  done." 

Hitherto  weight  has  been  laid  on  the  practical  side  of 
Mirabeau's  political  genius ;  his  ideas  with  regard  to  tlia 
Revolution  after  the  5th  and  6th  October  must  now  be 
examined,  and  this  can  be  done  at  length,  thanks  to  the 
publication  of  Mirabeau's  correspondence  with  La  Marck,  a 
study  of  which  is  indispensable  for  any  correct  knowledge 
of  tho  history  of  the  Revolution  between  1789  and  1701. 


496 


M  I  R'A  BEAU 


The  Comte  dc  la  Marck  was  a  Flemish  lord  of  the  house  of 
Aromberg,  who  had  been  proprietary  colonel  of  a  regiment 
in  the  service  of  France;  he  was  a  close  frien^  of  the 
gneen,  and  had  been  elected  a  member  of  the  states- 
general.  His  acquaintance  with  Mirabeau,  commenced  in 
1788,  ripened  during  the  following  year  into  a  friendship, 
which  La  Marck  hoped  to  turn  to  the  advantage  of  the 
court.  After  the  events  of  the  5th  and  Gth  of  October  he 
L-onsiilted  Mirabeau  as  to  what  measures  the  king  ought  to 
take,  and  Mirabeau,  delighted  at  the  opportunity,  di-ow  up 
an  admirable  state-paper,  which  was  presented  to  the  king 
by  Monsieur,  afterwards  Louis  XVIII.  The  whole  of  this 
Memoire  should  be  read  to  get  an  adequate  idea  of  Mira- 
beau's  genius  for  uolitics ;  here  it  must  be  merely  sum- 
marized. 

Tlie  main  position  is  tliat  the  king  is  not  free  in  Paris  ;  ho  must 
ilierefore  leave  Paris  and  appeal  to  France.  "  Paris  n'eu  veut  que 
Targcnt;  les  provinces  deraandent  des  lois."  But  where  must  the 
king  go?  "Se  retirer  i  Jletz  on  siu- toute  autre  froutih-e  serait 
declarer  la  guerre  h.  la  nation  et  abdiquer  le  trone.  Un  roi  qui  est  la 
seule  sauvegarde  de  son  peupio  ne  I'uit  point  devant  son  peuplo  ; 
il  le  prend  pour  juge  de  sa  couduite  et  de  scs  principes."  He  must 
tJien  go  towards  the  interior  of  France  to  a  provincial  capital,  best 
of  all  to  Rouen,  and  there  he  must  appeal  to  the  people  and  summon 
a  great  convention.  It  would  be  ruin  to  appeal  to  the  noblesse,  as 
the  queen  advised  :  **  un  corps  de  noblesse  n'est  point  une  armee, 
qui  puisse  combattre,"  When  this  great  convention  met,  the 
king  must  show  himself  ready  to  recognize  that  great  changes  have 
f.iken  place,  that  feudalism  and  absolutism  have  for  ever  disappeared, 
and  that  a  new  relation  between  king  and  people  has  arisen,  which 
must  be  loyally  observed  on  both  sides  for  the  future.  "  II  est 
certain,  d'aillcurs,  qu'il  faut  une  grando  revolution  pour  sauver  le 
royaume,  que  la  nation  a  des  droits,  qu'elle  est  en  chemiu  de  les 
reconvrer  tons,  et  qu'il  faut  non  seuleraent  les  retablir,  raais  les  con- 
BoUder."  To  establish  this  new  constitutional  position  between 
king  and  poojde  would  not  be  difficult,  because  " I'indivisibilite  du 
nionaraue  ct  du  peuple  est  dans  le  occur  de  tous  les  Franjais  ;  11 
faut  qiTelle  e.^ste  dans  Taction  et  le  pouvoir." 

Such  was  Mirabeau's  programme,  which  he  never 
diverged  from,  but  which  was  far  too  statesmardike  to  be 
utKlerstood  by  the  poor  king,  and  far  too  positive  as  to  the 
altered  condition  of  the  monarchy  to  be  palatable  to  the 
queen.  Mirabeau  followed  up  his  Memoire  by  a  scheme 
of  a  great  ministry  to  cont9,in  all  men  of  mark, — Necker 
as  prime  minister,  "to  render  him  as  powerless  as  he  is 
mcapable,  and  yet  preserve  his  popularity  for  the  king," 
the  archbishop  of  Bordeaux,  the  Due  de  Liancourt,  the  Due 
de  la  Rochefoucauld,  La  Marck,  Talleyrand  bishop  of 
Autun  at  the  finances,  Mirabeau  without  portfolio,  Target 
mayor  of  Paris,  Lafayette  generalissimo  to  reform  the 
army,  Segur  (foreign  affairs),  Mounier,  and  Chapelier.  This 
scheme  got  noised  abroad,  and  was  ruined  by  a  decree  of 
the  Assembly  of  November  7,  1789,  that  no  member  of  the 
Assembly  could  become  a  minister ;  this  decree  destroyed 
any  chance  of  that  necessary  harmony  between  the  ministry 
and  the  majority  of  the  representatives  of  the  nation  exist- 
ing in  England,  and  so  at  once  overthrew  Mirabeau's  present 
hopes  and  any  chance  of  the  permanence  of  the  constitution 
then  being  devised.  The  queen  utterly  refused  to  take 
Mirabeau's  counsel,  and  La  Marck  left  Paris.  However, 
in  April  1790  he  was  suddenly  recalled  by  the  Comte  de 
Mercy- Argenteau,  the  Au.=itrian  ambassador  at  Paris,  and 
the  queen's  most  trusted  political  adviser,  and  from  this 
time  to  Mirabeau's  death  he  became  the  medium  of  almost 
daily  communications  between  the  latter  and  the  queen. 
.Mirabeau  at  first  attempted  again  to  make  an  alliance  with 
I,afayetto  by  a  letter  in  which  he  says,  "  Les  Barnave,  les 
Duix)rt,  les  Lameth  ne  vous  fatiguent  plas  de  leur  active 
inaction ;  on  singe  longtemps  I'adresso,  non  pas  la  force." 
But  it  was  useless  to  appeal  to  Lafayette ;  he  was  not  a 
strong  man  himself,  and  did  not  appreciate  "  la  force  "  in 
others.  From  the  month  of  May  1790  to  his  death  in 
April  1791  Mirabeau  remained  in  close  and  suspected  but 
Dot  actually  proved  connexion  with  the  court,  and  drew 


up  many  admirable  ttate-papers  for  it.  In  return  the  court 
paid  his  debts;  but  it  ought'  never  to  be  said  that  he  was 
bribed,  for  the  gold  of  the  court  never  made  him  swerve 
from  his  political  principles — never,  for  instance,  made  him 
a  royalist.  He  regarded  himself  as  a  minister,  though  an 
unavowed  one,  and  believed  himself  worthy  of  his  hire. 
Undoubtedly  his  character  vrould  have  been  more  admirable 
if  he  had  acted  without  court  assistance,  but  it  must  be 
remembered  that  his  services  deserved  some  reward,  and 
that  by  remaining  at  Paris  as  a  politician  he  had  been 
unable  to  realize  his  paternal  inheritance.  Before  his  in- 
fluence on  foreign  policy  is  discussed,  his  behaviour  on 
several  important  points  must  be  noticed.  On  the  great 
question  of  the  veto  he  took  a  practical  view,  and  seeing 
that  the  royal  power  was  already  sufficiently  weakened, 
declared  for  the  king's  absolute  veto,  and  against  the 
compromise  of  the  suspensive  veto.  He  knew  from  hb 
English  experiences  that  such  a  veto  would  be  hardly  ever 
used  unless  the  king  felt  the  people  were  on  his  side,  in 
which  case  it  would  be  a  useful  check  on  the  representatives 
of  the  people,  and  also  that  if  it  was  used  unjustifiably 
the  power  of  the  purse  possessed  by  the  representatives 
and  the  very  constitutional  organization  of  the  people 
would,  as  in  England  in  1688,  bring  about  a  bloodless 
revolution,  and  a  change  in  the  person  entrusted  with  the 
royal  dignity.  He  saw  also  that  much  of  the  inefficiency 
of  the  Assembly  arose  from  the  inexperience  of  the  member.', 
and  their  incurable  verbosity  ;  so,  to  establish  some  systeia 
of  rules,  he  got  his  friend  Romilly  to  draw  up  a  detailed 
account  of  the  rules  and  customs  of  the  English  House  of 
Commons,  which  he  translated  into  French,  but  which  the 
Assembly,  puffed  up  by  a  belief  in  its  own  merits,  refused 
to  use.  On  the  great  subject  of  peace  and  war  he  supported 
the  king's  authority,  and  with  some  success.  \Yhat  was 
the  good  of  an  executive  which  had  no  power  %  Let  it  be 
responsible  to  the  representatives  of  the  nation  by  all 
means ;  but  if  the  representatives  absorbed  all  executive 
power  by  perpetual  interference,  there  would  be  six  hundred 
kings  of  France  instead  of  one,  which  would  hardly  be  a 
change  for  the  better.  Again  ilirabeau  almost  alone  of  the 
Assembly  understood  the  position  of  the  army  under  a 
limited  monarchy.  Contrary  to  the  theorists,  he  held  that 
the  soldier  ceased  to  be  a  citizen  when  he  became  a  soldier  ; 
he  must  submit  to  be  deprived  of  his  liberty  to  think  and 
act,  and  must  recognize  that  a  soldier's  fust  duty  is 
obedience.  With  such  sentiments,  it  is  no  wonder  that 
he  approved  of  Bouill(''s  vigorous  conduct  at  Nancy,  which 
was  the  more  to  his  credit  as  BouiUe  was  the  one  hope  of 
the  court  influences  opposed  to  him.  Lastly,  in  matters  of 
finance  he  showed  his  wisdom :  he  attacked  NeckerV 
"  caisse  d'escompte,"  which  was  to  have  the  whole  control 
of  the  taxes,  as  absorbing  the  Assembly's  power  of  the 
purse  ;  and  he  heartily  approved  of  the  system  of  assignats, 
but  with  the  important  reservation  that  they  should  not 
be  issued  to  the  extent  of  more  than  one-half  the  value  of 
the  lands  to  be  sold.  This  restriction  was  not  observed, 
and  it  was  solely  the  enormous  over-issue  of  assignats  that 
caused  their  great  depreciation  in  value. 

Of  Mirabeau's  attitude  with  regard  to  foreign  affairs  it 
is  necessary  to  speak  in  more  detail.  He  held  it  to  be  just 
that  the  French  people  should  conduct  their  Revolution  as 
they  would,  and  that  no  foreign  nation  had  any  right  to 
interfere  with  them,  so  long  as  they  kept  themselves  strictly 
to  their  o\vn  affairs.  But  he  knew  also  that  neighbouring 
nations  looked  ^vith  imquict  eyes  on  the  progi'css  of  affaira 
in  France,  that  they  feared  the  influence  of  the  Revolution 
on  their  owa  peoples,  and  that  foreign  monarchs  were 
being  prayed  by  the  French  emigres  to  interfere  on  behalf 
of  the  French  monarchy.  To  prevent  this  interference,  or 
rather  to  give  no  pretext  for  it,  was  his  guiding  thought  as 


MlKAiJJbJAU 


497 


to  foreign  policv.  He  Ii^fl  teen  elected  a  member  of  the 
comity  diplomatique  of  the  Assembly  in  July  1790,  and 
became  its  reporter  at  once,  and  in  tbis  capacity  he  was 
able  to  prevent  the  Assembly  from  doing  much  harm  in 
regard  to  foreign  affairs.  He  had  long  known  Montmorin, 
the  foreign  secretary,  and,  as  matters  became  more  strained 
from  the  complications  with  ther  princes  and  counts  of  the 
emnire,  he  entered  into  daily  communication  with  the 
minister,  advised  him  on  every  point,  and,  while  dictating 
his  policy,  defended  it  iu  the  Assembly.  Thus  in  this  parti- 
colar  instance  of  the  foreign  office,  for  the  few  months 
before  Mirabeau's  death,  a  harmony  was  established 
between  the  minister  and  the  Assembly  through  Mirabeau, 
which  checked  for  a  time  the  threatened  approach  of  foreign 
intervention,  and  maintained  the  honour  of  France  abroad. 
Mirabeau's  exertions  in  this  respect  are  not  his  smallest 
title  to  the  name  of  statesman;  and  how  great  a  work  he 
did  is  best  proved  by  the  confusion  which  ensued  in  this 
department  of  affairs  upon  his  death. 

For  indeed  in  the  beginning  of  1791  his  death  was  very 
near ;  and  he  knew  it  to  be  so.  The  wild  excesses  of  his 
youth  and  their  terrible  punishment  had  weakened  his 
strong  constitution,  and  Ms  parliamentary  labours  com- 
pleted the  work.  So  surely  did  he  feel  its  approach  that 
some  time  before  the  end  he  sent  all  his  papers  over  to  his 
old  English  friend  and  schoolfellow  Sir  Gilbert  Elliot,  who 
kept  them  under  seal  until  claimed  by  Mirabeau's  executors. 
la  March  his  illness  was  evidently  gaining  on  him,  to  his 
great  grief,  becau.se  he  knew  how  much  depended  on  his 
life,  and  felt  that  he  alone  could  yet  save  France  from  the 
distrust  of  her  monarch  and  the  present  reforms,  and 
from  the  foreign  interference,  which  would  assuredly  bring 
about  catastrophes  unparalleled  in  the  history  of  the  world. 
On  his  life  hung  the  future  course  of  the  Revolution. 
Every  care  that  science  could  afford  was  given  by  his 
friend  and  physician,  the  famous  chemist  Cabanis,  to  whose 
brochure  on  his  last  illness  and  death  the  reader  may  refer. 
The  people,  whose  faith  iji  him  revived  in  spite  of  all 
.suspicions,  when  they  heard  that  he  was  on  his  death-bed, 
kept  the  street  in  which  he  lay  quiet;  but  medical  care, 
the  loving  solicitude  of  friends,  and  the  respect  of  all  the 
people  could  not  save  his  life.  His  vanity  appears  in  its 
most  gigantic  proportions  in  his  last  utterances  during  his 
illness;  but  many  of  them  have  something  grand  in  their 
sound,  as  his  last  reported  expression,  when  he  looked  upon 
the  sun — "  If  he  is  not  God,  he  is  at  least  His  cousin- 
german."  When  he  could  speak  no  more  he  wrote  with 
a  feeble  hand  the  one  word  "  dormir,"  and  on  April  2, 
1791,  he  died. 

With  MirabcKu  died,  it  has  been  said,  the  last  hope  of  the  mon- 
archy; bnt.nirh  MarieAutoinette  supremeatcourt,  canit  be  said  that 
there  could  ever  have  been  any  real  hope  for  the  monarchy  ?  Had  she 
been  but  less  like  her  imperious  mother,  Louis  would  have  made  a 
constitutional  monarch,  but  her  will  was  as  strong  as  Mirabeau's 
own,  and  the  Bourbon  monarchy  had  to  meet  its  fate.  The  subse- 
quent events  of  the  Revolution  justified  Mirabeau's  prognostications 
in  his  first  memoiie  of  October  15,  1789.  The  royal  family  fled 
towards  the  German  frontier,  and  from  that  moment  there  sunk  deep 
into  the  heartsof  the  people  not  only  of  Paris,  but  of  the  provinces, 
a  conviction'  that  the  king  and  queen  were  traitors  to  France,  which 
led  inevitably  to  their  execution.  The  noblesse  and  the  foreign  aid 
on  which  the  queen  relied  proved  but  a  source  of  weakness.  The 
noblesse,  Mirabeau  had  said,  was  no  army  which  could  fight;  and 
truly  the  army  of  the  emigres  coiJd  do  nothing  against  revolutionary 
France  iu  anus.  The  inteiTention  of  foreign  aid  only  sealed  the 
king's  fate,  and  forwarded  the  progress  of  the  Revolution,  not  is  a 
course  of  natural  development,  but  to  the  terrible  resource  of  the 
R«ign  of  Terror.  With  regard  to  the  Assembly  too,  and  its  consti- 
tution, Mirabeau  had  shown  his  foresight.  The  constitution  of 
1781,  excellent  as  it  was  on  paper,  and  well  adapted  to  an  ideal 
state,  did  not  deal  adequately  with  the  great  problems  of  the  time 
in  France,  and  by  its  ridiculous  weakening  of  the  executive  was 
unsirited  to  a  modern  state.  Surely  if  events  ever  proved  a  man's 
vwlitical  sagncitv.,  tb".  history  of  the  Ftsnch  Sevolutioa  proved 
.Mirabeau's. 


A  few  words  must  tc  added  on  Mirabeau's  manner  of  work  and 
his  character. 

No  man  ever  so  thoroughly  used  other  men's  work,  and  yet 
made  it  all  seern  his  own.  "  je  prends  mon  bien  oil  je  le  trouve  " 
is  as  true  of  him  as  of  Moliisrc.  His  fir-st  literary  work,  except 
the  bombaatic  but  eloquent  £ssai  sur  Ic  Despotisnic,  was  a  transla- 
tion of  Watson's  Philip  II.,  accomplished  in  Holland  with  the 
help  of  Durival  ;  his  Coi\sidirationa  sur  Vordre  dc  Cincinnatus  was 
based  on  an  American  pamphlet,  and  the  notes  to  it  were  con- 
tributed by  Target ;  while  his  financial  writings  were  all  suggested 
by  the  Geuevese  exile  Clavieres.  During  the  Revolutiou  he  received 
yet  more  help ;  men  were  proud  to  labour  for  him,  and  did  not 
murmur  becairse  he  absorbed  all  the  credit  and,  fame.  Dumont, 
Clavieres,  Duroveray,  Pellenc,  Lamourette,  and  Reybaz  were  but  a 
few  of  the  most  distinguished  of  his  collaborator's.  Dumont  was  a 
Genevese  exile,  and  an  old  friend  of  Romilly's,who  willingly  prepared 
for  him  those  famous  addresses  which  Mirabeau  used  to  make  the 
Assembly  pass  by  sudden  brrrstsof  eloquent  declamation  ;  Clavi^es 
and  Duroveray  helped  him  in  finance,  and  not  only  worked  out  his 
figirres,  but  even  WTote  his  financial  discourses.  Pellenc  was  his 
secretary,  and  wrote  the  speeches  on  the  goods  of  the  clergy  and  the 
right  of  making  peace,  and  even  the  Abbe  Lamourette  wrote  the 
speeches  on  the  civil  constitution  of  the  clergy.  Reybaz,  whose  per- 
sonaUty  has  only  been  revealed  within  these  last  ten  years,  not  only 
wrote  for  hira  his  famous  speeches  on  the  assignats,  the  organization 
of  the  national  guard,  &c. ,  which  Mirabeau  read  word  for  word  at  the 
tribune,  but  even  the  posthirmous  speech  on  succession  to  estates 
of  intestates,  which  Tallej-rand  read  in  the  Assembly  as  the  last 
work  of  his  dead  friend.  Yet  neither  the  gold  of  the  court  nor 
another  man's  conviction  woirld  make  Mirabeau  say  what  he  did  not 
himself  believe,  or  do  what  he  did  not  himself  think  right.  He 
took  other  men's  labour  as  his  due,  and  impressed  their  words,  of 
which  he  had  suggested  the  underlying  ideas,  with  the  stamp  of 
his  olvn  individuality;  his  collaborators  themselves  did  not  com- 
plain,— they  were  but  too  glad  to  be  of  help  in  the  great  work  of 
controlling  and  for^va^ding  the  French  Revolution  through  its 
greatest  thirrker  and  orator.  True  is  that  remark  of  Goethe's 
to  Ecker-mann,  after  reading  Tlumont's  Souvenirs  :  "At  last  the 
wonderful  Mirabeau  becomes  natural  to  us,  while  at  the  same  time 
the  hero  loses  nothing  of  his  greatness.     Some  French  journalists 

think  differently The  French  look  irpon  Mu-abeau  as  their 

Hercules,  and  they  are  perfectly  right.  But  they  forget,  that  even 
the  Colossus  consists  of  individual  parts,  and  that  the  Hercules  of 
antiqrrity  is  a  collective  being^a  gigantic  personification  of  deeds 
done  by  himself  and  by  others." 

There  was  something  gigantic  about  all  Mirabeau's  thoughts  and 
deeds.  The  excesses  of  his  youth  were  beyond  all  boimds,  and 
severely  were  they  punished  ;  his  vanity  was  immense,  but  never 
spoilt  his  judgment ;  his  talents  were  enor-mous,  but  could  yet 
make  use  of  those  of  others.  As  a  statesman  his  w  isdom  is  indubit- 
able, but  by  no  means  universally  recognized  in  his  own  country. 
Lovcr-8  of  the  ancicn  rigime  abrrse  its  most  forinidable  and  logical 
ipponent ;  believers  in  the  Constitrrent  Assembly  cannot  be  expected 
to  care  for  the  most  redoubtable  adver-sary  of  their  favonrito  theorists, 
while  admirers  of  the  republic  of  every  description  agr-ee  in  calling 
him  from  his  connexion  with  the  court  the  traitor  Mirabeau. 
As  an  orator  more  jrrstice  has  been  done  him :  his  eloquence  has 
been  likened  to  that  of  both  Bossuet  and  Vergniaud,  but  it  had 
neither  the  polish  of  the  old  17th-centrrry  bishop  nor  the  flashes  of 
genius  of  the  yourrg  Girondin.  It  was  rather  parliamentary  oratory 
in  which  he  excelled,  and  his  tr'ue  compeers  are  rather  Burkb  anil 
Fox  than  any  French  speakers.  Per-sonaUy  he  had  that  which 
is  the  truest  mark  of  nobiUty  of  mind,  a  power  of  attracting  love, 
and  winniirg  faithful  friends.  "I  always  loved  him,"  ivrites  Sir 
Gilbert  Elliot  to  his  brother  Hugh  ;  and  Romilly,  wiro  was  not 
given  to  lavish  praise,  says,  "  I  have  no  doubt  that  in  his  public 
conduct,  as  in  his  writings,  he  was  desirous  of  doing  good,  that  his 
ambition  was  of  the  noblest  kind,  and  tlrat  he  proposed  to  himself 
the  noblest  ends."  "What  more  favourable  judgment  could  be 
passed  on  an  ambitiorrs  man  .'  What  finer  epitaph  corrld  a  states- 
man desire  ! 

the  best  edition  of  lITraleaii'snOTks  is  tlint  published  by  Bbncliord  in  1S22, 
In  10  vols.,  of  TTliicli  twiS  contain  his  CZtirres  Oratoira;  from  this  collection,  liow- 
ever,  tnany  of  his  less  import.int  works,  and  the  ilonarthie  Pruniennt,  in  4  vols., 
17S3,  are  omitted.  For  his  life  consult  Mirabeau :  Memoiret  sur  ta  vie  lilleraire 
elprie'.;,  4  vols.,  1824,  and,  what  is  of  most  iinporrnnre,  Sleimirti  iiosrapliijutt, 
lilUraires,  ft  potiliques  de  Mirabeau  ecritspar  liii-infme.  par  ton  pere,  son  oncle,  rt 
scnfils  adoplif,  which  was  issnod  by  M.  Lucas  de  MonliKiiy  in  8vol.<.,  Paris,  1834. 
See  also  Dumont.  Souvenirs  sur  Mirabeau,  1832 ;  Drival.  Soucrttirs  tur  Mtrabeau, 
1832 ;  victor  Hugo,  Elude  sur  Mirabeau,  1834 ;  Mirabeau's  Jmiendleben.  Biolau. 
1832  :  Schneldcwin,  Mirabeau  und  seine  Zeil,  Lcipsic,  1831;  Mirabeau,  a  Oje  Uis- 
tory.  London,  1848.  The  publication  of  the  Correspoudame  eiiire  Mirabeau  el  !e 
Comie  de  la  Maret,  by  Ad.  Bacoml,  2  vols..  ISOl,  marks  iin  cpcich  In  onr  csact 
knowlcdee  of  .Mirabeau  and  his  career.  The  most  nseful  modem  books  arc  Louis 
de  Lomcnic,  Les  .Vlrnbeau.  1878,  which,  however,  chiefly  treats  of  lii.  father  and 
uncle:  Ph.  Plan,  Tn  Cillaboraleur  de  Mirabeau.  1S74,  trculinB  of  nc.vbai.  and 
throwing  infinite  light  on  Jlirobean's  mode  of  work  ;  nini,  Instl.v,  11.  Rcj-ilalJ, 
J/i.vi6f<7ii  el  la  Consliluanle,  1873.  On  his  eloquence  and  the  share  his  collabora- 
tors had  in  his  speeches,  seo  Atilord,  i: MsembUe  Couililuanle,  1882  For  his 
death  see  the  curious  brochure  of  his  phjsician  Cabanis,  Journal  iela  ^'aladu 
:•  de  la  mort  de  Mirtkeau.  Paris,  1791.  ("•  ''■  '■) 


iy8 


M I R— M I R 


MIBABEAU,  VirroE  Riqtteti,  Maeqois  de  (1715- 
1789),  himself  a  distinguished  author  and  political  econo- 
mist, but  more  famous  as  the  father  of  the  great  Mirabeau, 
was  born  at  Pertuis  near  the  old  chateau  de  Mirabeau  on 
October  4,  1715.     He  was  brought  up  very  sternly  by  his 
father,  and  in  1729  joined  the  army.  He  took  keenly  to  cam- 
paigning, but  never  rose  above  the  rank  of  captain,  owing 
to  his  being  unable  to  get  leave  at  court  to  buy  a  regiment. 
In  1737  he  came  into  the  family  property  on  his  father's 
death,  and  spent  some  pleasant  years  till  1743  in  literary 
companionship  with   his  dear  friends  Vauvenargues   and 
Lefrauc  de  Pompignan,  which  might  have  continued  had 
he  not  suddenly  determined  to  marry — not  for  money,  but 
for  landed  estates.    The  lady  whose  property  he  fancied  was 
Marie  Genevieve,  daughter  of  a  M.  de  Vassan,  a  brigadier  in 
the  army,  and  widow  of  the  Marquis  de  Saulveboeuf,  whom 
he  married  without  previously  seeing  her  on  April  21, 1743. 
[While  in  garrison  at  Bordeaux,  Mirabeau  had  made  the 
acquaintance  of  Montesquieu,  which  ufey  have  made  him 
turn  his  thoughts  to  political  speculations ;  anyhow  it  was 
while  at  leisure  after  retiring  from  the  army  that  he  wrote 
his   first   work,  his    Testament    Politique    (1747),    which 
demanded   for  the  prosperity  of  France  a  return  of   the 
French  noblesse  to  their  old  position  in  the  Middle  Ages. 
This  work,  written  under  the  influence  of  the  feudal  ideas 
impressed  upon  him  by  his  father,  was  followed  in  1750 
by  a  book  on   the   Utilite  des  i!tats  Provenciaux,  full  of 
really  wise  considerations  for  local  self-government,  which 
was  published  anonymously,  and  had  the  honour  of  being 
attributed  to  Montesquieu  himself.     In    1756   Mirabeau 
made  his   iirst   appearance  as   a   political   economist   by 
the   publication  of   his   Ami   des   Hommes   ou    traite   de 
la  population.     This   work  has  been  often  attributed  to 
the  influence,  and  in  part  even  to  the  pen,  of  Quesnay,  the 
founder  of  the    economical  school  of  the  physiocrats,  but 
was   really    written   before   the   marquis   had    made   the 
acquaintance  of  tiie  physician  of  Madame  de   Pompadour. 
In  1760  he  published  his  TMorie  de  I'lmjjot,  in  which  he 
attacked  with  all  the  vehemence  of  his  son  the  farmers- 
general  of  the  taxes,  who  got  him  imprisoned  for  eight 
days  at  Vincennes,  and  ttcn  exiled  to  his  country  estate  at 
Bignon.     At  Biguon   the  school  of   the  physiocrats   was 
really   established,  and   the  marquis   surrounded  himself 
with  devotees,  and  eventually  in  1765  bought  the  Journal 
de  Vagriculture,  dv,  commerce,  et  des  finances,  which  became 
the   organ    of    the   school.      He    was    distinctly    recog- 
nized as  a  leader  of  political  thinkers  by  Prince  Leopold 
of   Tuscany,  afterwards  emperor,  and   by  Gustavus   HI. 
of  Sweden,    who   in   1772    sent   him  the  grand  cross   of 
the  order  of  Vasa.     But  the  period  of  his  happy  literary 
life  was   over ;   and   his   name  was  to  be   mixed  up   in 
a   long     scandalous    lawsuit.      Naturally    his     marriage 
had  not  been   happy ;   he   had  separated  from  his   wife 
by   mutual    consent    in     1762,    and    had,    h&    believed, 
secui'ed  her  safely  in  the  provinces  by  a  lettro  de  cachet, 
when  in  1772  she  suddenly  appeared  in  Paris,  and  soon 
after  commenced  proceedings  for  a  -separation.     The  poor 
marquis  did  not  know  what  to  do ;  his  sons  were  a  great 
trouble  to  him,  and  it  was  one  of  his  own  daughters  who 
had  encouraged  his  wife  to  take  this  step.     Yet  he  was 
determined  to  keep  the  case  quiet  if  possible  for  the  sake  of 
Madame  de  Pailly,  a  Swiss  lady  whom  he  had  loved  since 
1756.     But' his  wife  would  not  let  him  rest ;  her  plea  was 
rejected  in  1777,  but  slie  renewed  her  suit,  and,  though 
the  great  Mirabeau  had  pleaded  his  father's  case,  was  suc- 
cessful in   1781,  when  a  decree   of   separation  was  pro- 
nounced.    This  trial  had  quite  broken  the  health  of  the 
marquis,  as  .well   as   his   fortune ;  he   sold  hia  estate  at 
Bignon,   and  hired  a  house  at  Argenteuil,  where  he  lived 
auietly  till  his  death  on  July  11,  1789. 


For  the  whole  family  of  Mirabeau,  the  one  book  to  refer  to  i* 
Louis  dc  Lomenie's  Les  Mirabeau,  2  vols.,  1878,  and  it  is  greadyto 
be  regretted  that  the  talented  author  did  not  live  to  treat  the  live* 
of  the  great  Mirabeau  and  hia  brother.  See  also  Lucas  de  Mon- 
tigny's  Miriwires  dc  Mirabeau,  and,  for  the  marquis's  economical 
views,  Ds  Ja  Vergne's  Ecoiiomistcs frati^is  dv.  18**  siicU. 

MIKAGE.     See  Light,  vol.  xiv.  p.  600. 

JUEAMON,  Miguel,  a  Mexican  soldier  of  French 
extraction,  was  born  in  the  city  of  Mexico,  September  29, 
1832,  and  shot  along  with  the  emperor  Maximilian  ac 
Queretaro,  June  19,  1867.  While  still  a  student  he  helped 
to  defend  the  miUtary  academy  at  Chapultepec  against  the 
forces  of  the  United  States;  and,  entering  the  army  in  1852, 
he  rapidly  came  to  the  front  during  the  civil  wars  that  dis- 
turbed the  country.  It  was  largely  due  to  Miramoa's  support 
of  the  ecclesiastical  party  against  Alvarez  and  Comoiifort 
that  Zuloagawas  raised  to  the  presidency;  and  in  1859  he 
was  called  to  succeed  him  in  that  office.  Decisively  beaten, 
however,  by  the  Liberals,  he  fled  the  country  in  1860,  and 
spent  soma  time  in  Em-ope  earnestly  advocating  foreign 
intervention  in  Mexican  affairs ;  and  when  he  returned  it 
was  as  a  partisan  of  Maximilian.  His  ability  as  a  soldier 
was  best  shown  by  his  double  defence  of  Puebla  in  1856. 

MIRANDA,  Francesco  (1754-1816),  was  born  at 
Santa  F6  in  New  Granada  in  1754.  He  entered  the  army, 
and  served  against  the  English  in  the  American  War  of 
Independence.  The  success  of  that  war  inspired  him 
with  a  hope  of  being  the  Washington  of  his  own  countiy, 
and  a  belief  that  the  independence  of  Spanish  America 
would  increase  its  material  prosperity.  With  these  views 
he  began  to  scheme  a  revolution,  but  his  schemes  were  dis- 
covered and  he  had  only  just  time  to  escape  to  the  United 
States.  Thence  he  went  to  England,  where  he  was  intro- 
duced to  Pitt,  but  chiefly  lived  with  the  leading  members 
of  the  opposition — Fox,  Sheridan,  and  Romilly.  Finding 
no  help  in  his  revolutionary  schemes,  he  travelled  over  the 
greater  part  of  Europe,  notably  through  Aiistria  and 
Turkey,  till  he  arrived  at  the  court  of  Russia,  where 
he  was  warmly  received,  but  from  which  he  was  dismissed, 
though  with  rich  presents,  at  the  demand  of  the  Spanish 
ambassador,  backed  up  by  the  envoy  of  France.  The  news 
of  the  dispute  between  England  and  Spain  about  Nootka 
Sound  in  1790  recalled  him  to  England,  where  he  saw 
a  good  deal  of  Pitt,  who  had  determined  to  make  use 
of  him  to  "  insurge  "  the  Spanish  colonies,  but  the  peaceful 
arrangement  of  the  dispute  again  destroyed  his  hopes.  In 
April  1792  he  went  to  Paris,  with  introductions  to  Potion 
and  the  leading  Girondists,  hoping  that  men  who  were  work- 
ing so  hard  for  their  own  freedom  might  help  his  countrj-- 
men  in  South  America.  France  had  too  much  to  do  in 
fighting  for  its  own  freedom  to  help  others ;  but  Miranda's 
friends  sent  him  to  the  front  ^vith  the  rank  of  general 
of  brigade.  He  distinguished  himself  under  Dumourioz, 
was  intrusted  in  February  1793  with  the  conduct  of  the 
siege  of  Maestricht,  and  commanded  the  left  Tving  of  the 
French  army  at  the  disastrous  battle  of  Neerwinden. 
Although  he  had  given  notice  of  Dumouriez's  projected 
treachery,  he  was  jjut  on  his  trial  for  treason  ou  May  12. 
He  -was  unanimously  acquitted,  but  was  soon  again  thrown 
into  prison,  and  not  released  till  after  the  9th  Thermidor. 
Ho  again  mingled  in  politics,  and  was  sentenced  to  be 
deported  after  the  struggle  of  Vendiimiaire.  Yet  he  escaped, 
and  continued  in  Paris  til)  the  coup  d'etat  of  Fructidoi 
caused  him  finally  to  take  refuge  in  England.  He  now 
found  Pitt  and  Dundas  once  more  ready  to  listen  to  him, 
and  the  latter  sent  a  special  minute  to  Colonel  Picton, 
the  governor  of  Trinidad,  to  assist  General  Miranda's 
schemes  in  every  possible  way :  but,  as  neither  of  fhcni 
would  or  could  give  him  substantial  help,  he  went  to  the 
United  States,  where  President  Adams  gave  him  fair  words 
but  notliing  more.     O^ice  more  he  returned  to  England, 


\ 


M  1  K  — M  I  K 


499 


where  Addington  might  have  done  aomething  for  him  but 
for  the  signature  of  the  peace  of  Amiens  in  18D2.  At  the 
peace,  though  in  no  way  amnestied,  he  returned  to  Paris, 
but  was  promptly  expelled  by  the  First  Consul,  Who  was 
then  eager  to  be  on  good  terms  with  the  court  of  Spain. 
Disappointed  in  further  efforts  to  get  assistance  from 
England  and  the  United  States,  he  decided  to  make  an 
attempt  on  his  own  responsibility  and  at  his  own  expense. 
Aided  by  two  American  citizens.  Colonel  Smith  and  Mr 
Ogden,  he  equipped  a  small  ship,  the  "Leander,"  in  1806, 
and  with  the  help  of  the  English  admiral  Sir  A.  Cochrane 
made  a  landing  near  Cardcas,  and  proclaimed  the  Colombian 
republic.  He  had  some  success,  and  would  have  had  more 
haid  not  a  false  report  of  peace  between  France  and 
England  caused  the  English  admiral  to  withdraw  his 
support.  At  last  in  1810  came  his  opportunity;  the 
events  in  Spain  which  brought  about  the  Peninsular 
War  had  divided  the  authorities  in  Spanish  America,  some 
of  whom  declared  for  Joseph  Bonaparte,  others  for 
Ferdinand  ML,  while  others  again  held  to  Charles  IV. 
At  this  moment  Miranda  again  landed,  and  had  no  difficulty 
in  getting  a  large  party  together  who  declared  a  republic 
both  in  Venezuela  and  New  Granada  or  Colombia.  But 
Miranda's  desire  that  all  the  South  American  colonies  should 
rise,  and  a  federal  republic  be  formed,  awoke  the  selfish- 
ness and  pride  of  individual  provincial  administrations, 
and  thus  weakened  the  cause,  which  further  was  believed  to 
be  hateful  to  heaven  owing  to  a  great  earthquake  on 
March  26,  1812.  The  count  of  Monte  Verde,  the  Bourbon 
governor,  had  little  difficulty  in  defeating  the  dispirited 
forces  of  Miranda,  and  on  July  26  the  general  capitulated 
on  condition  that  he  should  be  deported  to  the  United 
States.  The  condition  was  not  observed;  Miranda  was 
moved  from  dungeon  to  dungeon,  and  died  in  1816  at  Cadiz. 
There  are  allusions  to  Miranda's  early  life  in  nearly  all  memoirs  of 
the  time,  but  they  arc  not  generally  very  accvirate.  For  his  trial  see 
Buchez  et  Roui,  His'.oire  ParUmentairc,  xivii.  26-70.  For  his 
later  life  see  Biggs,  History  of  Miranda's  Attempt  in  South  America, 
London,  IS09  ;  and  Yeggasi,  JUvolueion  de  la  Columbia. 

MIRANDOLA.     See  Pico. 

MIRKHOND  (1433-U98).  Mohammed  bin  Khiwand- 
sh&h  bin  Slahmiid,  commonly  called  Mlrkhwind  or  ^Ilrk- 
hAwand,  more  familiar  to  Europeans  under  the  name  of 
Mirkhond,  was  born  in  1433,  the  son  of  a  very  pious  and 
learned  man  who,  although  belonging  to  an  old  Bokhara 
family  of  Sayyids  or  direct  descendants  of  the  Prophet, 
lived  and  died  in  Balkh.  From  his  early  youth  he  applied 
himself  to  historical  studies  and  literature  in  general.  In 
Herit,  where  he  spent  the  greater  part  of  his  life,  he  gained 
the  favour  of  that  famous  patron  of  letters,  Mlr'Allshlr 
(born  1440),  who  served  his  old  school-fellow  the  reigning 
sultan  Husain  (who  as  the  last  of  the  Tlmiirides  in  Persia 
ascended  the  throne  of  HerAt  in  1468),  first  as  keeper 
of  the  seal,  afterwards  as  governor  of  Jvujin.  At  the 
request  cf  this  distinguished  statesman  and  writer' 
Mirkhond  began  about  1474,  in  the  quiet  convent  of 
KhilAsIyah,  which  his  patron  had  founded  in  Her4t  as  a 
house  of  retreat  for  literary  men  of  merit,  his  great  work  on 
universal  history,  the  largest  ever  written  in  Persian,  and 
to  the  present  day  an  inexhaustible  mine  of  information 
both  to  Eastern  and  Western  scholars.  It  is  named 
Rauzat-ussafd  fi  sirat-vlanbid  walmuluk  waWmlafd  or 
Garden  of  Purity  on  the  Biography  of  Prophets,  Kings,  and 
Caliphs.  That  the  author  has  made  no  attempt  at  a  critical 
examination  of  historical  traditions  can  scarcely  be  called  a 
^>eculiar  fault  of  his,  since  .almost  all  Oriental  writers  are 
equally  deficient  in  sound  criticism  ;  more  censurable  is  his 


'  Mir  'Alishir  not  only  excelled  as  poet  both  in  Cbaghatai,  in 
which  bis  epopees  gained  him  the  foremost  rank  among  the  classic 
■.vritere  in  that  language,  and  in  Persian,  but  composed  an  excellent 
tadhkirah  or  biography  of  contemnorary  Persian  poets. 


flowery  and  often  bombastic  style,  but  in  spite  of  this  draw- 
back, and  although,  in  our  own  age,  the  discovery  of  older 
works  on  Asiatic  history  has  diminished  to  some  extent 
the  value  of  Mirkhond's  Rauzat,  it  stQl  maintains  its  high 
position  as  one  of  the  most  marvellous  achievements  in 
literature  from  the  pen  of  one  man,  and  often  elucidates,  by 
valuable  text-corrections,  various  readings,  and  important 
additions,  those  sources  which  have  lately  come  to  light. 
It  comprises  seven  large  volumes  and  a  geographical  ap- 
pendix ;  but  internal  evidence  proves  beyond  doubt  that  the 
seventh  volume,  the  history  of  the  sultan  Husain  (1438- 
1505),  together  vrith  a  short  account  of  some  later  events 
down  to  1523,  cannot  have  been  written  by  Mirkhond 
himself,  who  died  in  1498.  He  may  have  compiled  the 
preface,  but  the  main  portion  of  this  volume  is  probably 
the  work  of  his  grandson,  the  equally  renowned  historian 
KliwAndamlr  (1475-1534),  to  whom  also  a  part  of  the 
appendix  must  be  ascribed. 

The  following  is  a  summary  of  the  contents  of  the  other  six 
volumes.  Vol.  i.  :  Preface  on  the  usefulness  of  historical  stndies, 
history  of  the  creation,  the  patriarchs,  prophets,  ar.i  rulers  of  Israel 
down  to  Christ,  and  the  Persian  kings  from  the'mythical  times  of 
the  Pesbdadians  to  the  Arab  conquest  and  the  death  of  the  last 
SisanianYazdajirdlll.inSO  A.H.  (651  A.D.).  Vol.  ii.:  Mohammed, 
Abiibekr,  'Omar,  'Othman,  and  *Ali.  Vol.  iii. :  The  twelve  imams 
and  the  Omayj'ad  and ' Abbasid  caliphs  down  to  656  a.h.  (1258  A.D.). 
VoL  iv. :  The  minor  dynasties  contemporary  with  and  subsequent  to 
tiie  'Abbasids,  down  td  778  a.h.  (1376  a.d.),  the, date  of  the  over- 
tlirow  of  the  Kurds  by  Timur.  Vol.  v. :  The  MoglnJs  down  to  Timiir's 
time.  VoL  vi. :  Timur  and  his  successors  down  to  Sultan  Hnsain's 
accession  in  873  A.H.  (1468  A.D.).  The  best  accounts  of  Mirkhond's 
life  are  De  Sacy's  "Notice  sur  Mirkhond"  in  his  Mimoires  sur 
diverses  antiquity  de  la  Perse,  Paris,  1793  ;  Jourdain's  "Notice  de 
I'histoixe  universelle  de  Mirkhond"  in  the  ^iotices  et  Extraits,  vol. 
ix.,  Paris,  1812  (togetherwith  a  translation  of  the  preface,  the  history 
of  the  Ismailiaus,  the  conclusion  of  the  sixth  volume,  and  a  portion 
of  the  appendix) ;  Elliot,  History  of  India,  vol.  iv.  p.  127  sq. ; 
Morley,  Descriptive  Catalogue,  London,  1854,  p.  30  sq.  ;  Rieu,  Cat. 
of  Persian  MSS.  of  the  Brit.  Mus.,  vol.  i.,  London,  1879,  p.  87  sq. 
Mirkhond's  patron,  Mir 'Alishir,  to  whom  the  Rau^t  is  dedicated, 
died  three  years  after  him  (1501)^ 

Besides  the  lithographed  editions  of  the  wholewoik  in  folio,  Bombay,  1S53,  and 
■Teheran,^  1852-56,  and  a  Turkish  Tersion,  Constantinople,  1S42,  tlie  following 
portions  of  Mirkhond's  histoo"  have  been  poblished  by  European  Orientalists : 
Early  Kings  of  Pcrtia,  by  D.  Shea,  London,  1832  (Oriental  Translation  Fund); 
L'Siitoire  de  ta  djffiaslie  des  Satsanidcs,  by  S.  de  Sacy  (in  tJie  above-mentioned 
Memoirei) ;  Bittoirt  dcs  Sattanides  {ttxte  Penan),  by  Jaubert,  Paris,  1843 ;  Hit. 
toriapriorum  regvm  Persarum,  Pers.  and  Lat.,  by  Jenisii,  Vienna,  1762;  Mirehondi 
ItisCoria  Taheridat-um.  Pevs.  and  Lat.,  by  Mitscherlik,  Giittingen,  1814,  2d  ed., 
Berlin,  1819 ;  Eistcria  Samanidarum,  Pers.  and  Lat.,  by  Wilken,  Gottlngen. 
180S ;  NisCoire  dee  Samanides,  translated  by  Defr^mery,  Paris,  1845;  Bistorta 
OAarneriAw'um,  Pers.'and  Lat.,  by  Wilken,  Berlin,  1832;  Getchiehteder  Syltaneaua 
dem  OescfiieeJtte  Bi^eh,  Pers.  and  German,  by  Wiiken,  Berlin,  1835;  followed  by 
Ertlmann's  Erldutervng  vttd  Ergdntvng,  Kazan,  1836 ;  Bistoria  Seldichuekidarwn, 
ed.  Vullers,  Giessen,  1837,  and  a  Gc.man  translation  by  the  same:  Biitoire  des 
Sultans  du  Eharesny  in  Persian,  by  Defr^mery,  Paris,  1842;  Bislonf  of  iJle 
Alabeks  of  Syria  and  Persia,  in  Persian,  by  W,  Morley,  London,  1848;  Bistori/s 
OAuridarum,  Pers.  and  Lat.,  by  Mitseherlik,  Frankfort,  181S;  Sistoiredes SuUans 
Chuvides,  translated  into  French  by  Defr^mery,  P-trSs,  1844;  Vie  de  Djenghii-Khan, 
in  Persian,  by  Jaubert,  Paris,  1S41  (see  also  extracts  from  the  same  fith  volume 
in  French  tj-anslation  by  Langlfes  in  vol.  vi.  of  Notices  et  Extraits,  Paris,  1799, 
p.  192  sq.,  and  by  Hammer  in  Sur  les  origin^  Pusses,  St  Petersburg,  1825,  p. 
52  s;.};  "Tfmilr's  Expedition  against  Tuktamish  Khdn,"  Persian  and  French, 
by  Charmoy,  in  il^moires  de  I'Acad.  lmp&.  de  St  Petersbourg,  1836,  pp.  270-321 
and  441-471.  (H.  E.^ 

MIEOPOLIE,  a  town  of  Russia,  situated  in  the  govern- 
ment of  Kursk,  district  of  Suja,  83  miles  south-west  of 
Kursk  and  25  miles  from  the  Sumy  railway  station.  It 
is  supposed  to  have  been  founded  in  the  17th  century, 
when  it  was  fortified  against  the  raids  of  Tartars.  The 
fertility  of  the  soil  led  to  the  settlement  of  large  villages 
close  by  the  fort,  and  the  10,800  inhabitants  of  this  town 
are  still  engaged  mostly  in  agriculture.  There  is  also  an 
extensive  manufacture  of  boots. 

MIRROR.  It  is  only  since  the  early  part  of  the  1 6th 
century  that  mirrors  have  become  articles  of  household 
furniture  and  decoration.  Previous  to  that  time — from  the 
12th  to  the  end  of  the  15th  century — pocket  mirrors  or 
small  hand  mirrors  carried  at  the  girdle  were  indispensable 
adjuncts  to  ladies'  toilets.  The  pocket  mirrors  consisted 
of  small  circular  plaques  of  polished  metal  fixed  in  a  shallow 
circulir  box,  covered  with  a  lid.  Mirror  cases  were  chiefly 
madft  CrJ  ivory,  carved  with  relief  representations  of  lov.~ 


500 


MIRROR 


or  domestic  scenes,  hunting,  and  gs^es,  and  sometiniei- 
illustrations  of  popular  poetry  or  romarice.  Gold  and 
silver,  enamels,  ebony,  and  other  costly  materials  were 
likewise  used  for  mirror  cases,  on  which  were  lavished  the 
highest  decorative  efforts  o£  art  workmanship  and  costly 
jewelling.  The  mirrors  worn  at  the  girdle  had  no  cover, 
but  were  furnished  with  a  short  handle.  In  625  Pope 
Boniface  IV.  sent  Queen  Ethelberga  of  Northumbria  a 
present  of  a  silver  mirror;  and  there  is  ample  evidence 
that  in  early  Anglo-Saxon  times  mirrors  were  welLknown 
in  England.  It  is  a  remarkable  fact  that  on  many  of  the 
sculptured  stones  of  Scotland,  belonging  probably  to  the 
7th,  8th,  or  9th  century,  representations  of  mirrors,  mirror 
eases,  and  combs  occur. 

The  method  of  backing  glass  with  thin  sheets  of  metal 
for  mirrors  was  well  known  in  the  Middle  Ages  at  a  time 
when  steel  and  silver  mirrors  were  almost  exclusively 
employed.  Vincent  de  Beauvais,  writing  about  1250,  says 
that  the  mirror  of  glass  and  lead  is  the  best  of  all  "  quia 
vitrum  propter  transparentiam  melius  recipit  radios."  It 
is  known  that  small  convex  mirrors  were  commonly  made 
in  southern  Germany  before  the  beginning  of  the  16th 
century,  and  these  continued  to  be  in  demand  under  the 
name  of  bull's-eyes  (OclisenrAugen)  till  comparatively 
modern  times.  They  were  made  by  blowing  small  globes 
of  glass  into  which  while  stiU  hot  was  passed  through 
the  pipe  a  mixture  of  tin,  antimony,  and  resin  or  tar. 
When  the  globe  was  entirely  coated  with  the  metallic  com- 
pound and  cooled  it  was  cut  into  convex  lenses,  which  of 
course  formed  small  but  well-defined  images.  It  appears 
that  attention  was  drawn  to  this  method  of  making  mirrors 
in  Venice  as  early  as  1317,  in  which  year  a  "Magister  de 
Alemania,"  who  knew  how  to  work  glass  for  mirrors,  broke 
an  agreement  he  had  made  to  instruct  three  Venetians, 
leaving  in  their  hands  a  large  quantity  of  mixed  alum  and 
soot  for  which  they  could  find  no  use. 

It  was,  however,  in  Venice  that  the  making  of  glass 
mirrors  on  a  commercial  scale  was  first  developed;  and 
that  enterprising  republic  enjoyed  a  rich  and  much-prized 
monopoly  of  the  manufacture  for  about  a  century  and  a 
half.  In  1507  two  inhabitants  of  Murano,  representing 
that  they  possessed  the  secret  of  making  perfect  mirrors 
of  glass,  a  knowledge  hitherto  confined  to  one  German  glass- 
house, obtained  an  exclusive  privilege  of  manufacturing 
mirrors  for  a  period  of  twenty  years.  In  1564  the  mirror- 
makers  of  Venice,  who  enjoyed  peculiar  privileges,  formed 
themselves  into  a  corporation.  The  products  of  the 
Murano  glass-houses  quickly  supplanted  the  mirrors  of 
polished  metal,  and  a  large  and  lucrative  trade  in  Venetian 
glass  mirrors  sprang  up.  They  were  made  from  blown 
cylinders  of  glass  which  were  sUt,  flattened  on  a  stone, 
carefully  polished,  the  edges  frequently  bevelled,  and  the 
backs  "silvered"  by  an  amalgam.  The  glass  was  remarkably 
pure  and  uniform,  the  "  silvering "  bright,  and  the  sheets 
sometimes  of  considerable  dimensions.  Li  the  inventoi-y 
of  his  effects  made  on  the  death  of  the  great  French 
viiinister  Colbert  is  enumerated  a  Venetian  mirror  46  by 
25  inches,  in  a  silver  frame,  valued  at  8016  Uvres,  while 
a.  oicture  by  Raphael  is  put  down  at  3000  livres. 

The  manufacture  of  glass  mirrors,  with  the  aid  of  Italian 
workmen,  was  practised  in  England  by  Sir  Robert  Mansel 
early  in  the  17th  century,  and  about  1670  the  duke  of 
Buckingham  was  concerned  in  a  glass-work  at  Lambeth 
where  flint  glass  was  made  for  looking-glasses.  These  old 
EngUsh  mirrors,  with  bevelled  edges  in  the  Venetian 
fashion,  are  still  well  known. 

The  Venetians  guarded  with  the  utmost  jealousy  the 
secrets  of  their  varied  manufactures,  and  gave  most  excep- 
tional privileges  to  those  engaged  in  such  industries.  By 
their   statutes   any   glassmaker   carrying   his   art   into  a 


foreign  state  was  ordered  to  return  on  the  pain  of 
imprisonment  .of  his  nearest  rela;tives,  and  should  he 
disobey  the  command  emissaries  were  delegated  to  slay 
the  contumacious  subject.  In  face  of  such  a  statute 
Colbert  attempted  in  1664,  through  the  French  ambassador 
in  Venice,  to  get  Venetian  artists  transported  to  France  to 
develop  the  two  great  industries  of  mirror-making  and 
point-lace  working.  The  ambassador,  the  bishop  of 
Biziers,  pointed  out  that  to  attempt  to  send  the  required 
artists  was  to  court  the  risk  of  being  thrown  into  the 
Adriatic,  and  he  further  showed  that  Venice  was  selling  to 
France  mirrors  to  the  value  of  100,000  crowns  and  lace  to 
three  or  four  times  that  value.  Notwithstanding  these 
circumstances,  however,  twenty  Venetian  glass-mirror 
makers  were  sent  to  France  in  1655,  and  the  manufacture 
wav'begun  under  the  fostering  care  of  Colbert  in  the 
Faubourg  St  Antoine,  Paris.  But  previous  to  this  the  art 
of  blowing  glass  for  mirrors  had  been  actually  practised  at 
Tour-la- ViUe,  near  Cherbourg,  by  Richard  Lucas,  Sieur  de 
Nehou,  in  1653;  and  by  the  subsequent  combination  of 
skill  of  both  establishments  French  mirrors  soon  excelled 
in  quality  those  of  Venice.  The  art  received  a  new  impulse 
in  France  on  the  introduction  of  the  making  of  plate  glass, 
which  was  discovered  in  1691.  The  St  Gobain  Glass 
Company  at[i  Ibute  the  discovery  to  Louis  Lucas  of  Nehou, 
and  over  th  ioor  of  the  chapel  of  St  Gobain  they  have 
placed  an  inscription  in  memory  of  "  Louis  Lucas  qui  in- 
venta  in  1691  le  methode  de  couler  les  glaces  et  installa  la 
manufactm'e  en  1695  dans  le  chateau  de  Saint  Grobain." 

Manufacture. — The  term  "silvering,"  as  applied  to  the  forma- 
tion of  a  metallic  coating  on  glass  for  giving  it  the  properties  of  & 
mirror,  was  till  quite  recentlj  a  misnomer,  seeing  that  till  ahout 
1840  no  silver  was  used  in  the  process.  Now,  however,  a  large 
proportion  of  mirrors  are  made  by  depositing  on  the  glass  a  coating 
of  pure  silver,  and  the  old  amalgamation  process  is  comparatively 
little  used. 

The  process  of  amalgamation  consists  in  appljTng  a  thin  amalgam 
of  tin  and  mercury  to  the  surface  of  glass,  which  is  done  on  a 
perfectly  flat  and  horizontal  slab  of  stone  bedded  in  a  heavy,  iron- 
bound  wooden  frame,  with  a  gutter  running  round  the  outer  edge. 
On  the  surface  of  this  table,  which  must  be  perfectly  smooth  and 
level,  is  spread  a  sheet  of  thin  tin-foil,  somewhat  larger  than  the  glass 
to  be  operated  on,  and  after  all  folds  and  creases  have  been  conj- 
pletely  removed,  by  means  of  stroking  and  beating  with  a  covered 
wooden  rubber,  the  process  of  "  quickening  '*  the  foil  is  commenced. 
A  small  quantity  of  mercury  is  rubbed  lightly  and  quickly  over  the 
whole  surface,  and  the  scum  of  dust,  impure  tin,  and  mercury  is 
taken  oiF.  Mercury  is  then  poured  upon  the  quickened  foil,  until 
there  is  a  body  of  it  sufficient  to  float  the  glass  to  be  silvered  (about 
\  inch  deep),  and,  the  edge  at  one  of  the  sides  having  been  cleared 
of  the  scum  peculiar  to  mercury,  tho  glass  (scrupulously  cleaned 
simultaneously  with  the  above  operations)  is  slid  from  that  side  over 
the  surface  of  tho  mercury.  Weights  are  placed  over  the  surfaeo 
until  the  greater  part  of  the  amalgamated  mercury  is  pressed  out, 
the  table  is  then  tilted  diagonally,  by  means  of  dumb-screws,  and 
all  superfluous  mercury  finds  its  way  to  the  gutter.  The  glass 
is  loft  twenty-fom'  hours  under  weights;  it  is  then  turned  over 
silvered  side  up,  and  removed  to  a  drainer  with  inclining  shelves, 
whore  by  slow  degrees,  as  it  dries  and  hardens,  it  is  brought  to  a 
vertical  position,  which  in  tho  case  of  largo  sheets  may  not  be 
arrived  at  in  less  than  a  month.  This  process  yields  excellent 
results,  producing  a  brilliant  silver-white  metallic  lustre  which  is 
only  subject  to  alteration  by  exposure  to  high  temperatures,  or  by 
contact  with  damp  surfaces ;  hut  the  mercurial  vapours  to  which 
the  workmen  are  exposed  give  rise  to  the  most  distressing  and  fatal 
aflbctions. 

In  1835  Baron  Liebig  observed  that,  on  heating  aldehyde  with 
an  ammoniacal  solution  of  nitrate  of  silver,  in  a  glass  vessel,  a 
brilliant  deposit  of  metallic  silver  was  formed  on  the  surface  of  the 
glass.  To  this  observation  is  due  the  modern  process  of  silvering 
glass.  In  practice  tho  process  was  introduced  about  1840 ;  and  it 
IS  noT  carried  on,  with  several  modifications,  in  two  distinct  ways, 
called  the  hot  and  the  cold  process  respectively.  In  tho  former 
method  there  is  employed  a  horizontal  double-bottomed  metallic 
table,  which  is  heated  with  steam  to  from  35°  ia  40°  C._  The  glaM 
to  bo  silvered  is  cleaned  thoroughly  with  wet  whiting,  then  washed 
with  distilled  water,  and  prepared  for  the  silver  with  a  sensitizing 
solution  of  tin,  wliich  is  well  rinsed  off  immediately  before  its 
romov.al  to  the  silvering  table.  The  table  being  raised  to  the 
proper  temperature,  the  glass  is  laid,  and  the  silvering  solution  a* 


I  K  R  O  R 


^^^r.??.    f  f^" >  '"'?'?  ""^  '"=*'  ^f  ">«  t^W^  has  time  to  dry 
any  part  of  the  snrfajje  of  the  glass,     the  solution  used  is  prepared 

nitrate  of  Sliver  are  dissolved;  to  thU  there  U  added  of  liquid 
^^nT/'?-!^-  <'S80)?2mmmea;  the  mixture  is  mtered,  and 
^^!i"P  ,  ^j^'^t^  "■'"'  <^*'^«'i  ™ter,  and  r  5  grammes  of  tartaric 
About?"?  Tf^  ""  ^°  ^"^"^  "^  ^*'^'  "»  mixel^ith  the  solntio™ 
to  be  s^vi  d  ^'l^r'^A  "•""  ^h'-  «'f^  f"  "''<=''  ^"P"ficial  metre 
to  be  sJver^d  The  metal  immediately  begins  to  deposit  on  the 
glass,  which  IS  maintained  at  about  40°  0(104°  F. ),  and  i^  little 
rf«n/°  Y^  r  '■°"/  -continuous  coating  of  silver  iT  formed 
The  silvered  surface  is  then  cleaned  by  very  ^utionsly  wipineTith 
a  very  so  t  chamois  rubber,  and  tr^ted^a  second  ^tZ^tl  a 
acid,     ibis  solution  is  applied  m  two  portions,  and  thereafter  the 

l^H°/™  """^  '^'"^^^^  '^'^""^  of  ^  nna'ttached  sUvS  and 
refose  and  removed  to  a  side  room  for  backing  up 

in  sUvenng  by  the  cold  process  advantage  is  taken  of  the  nower 
of  mverted  sugar  to  reduce  the  nitrate  of  silver.  This  proceS^hS 
^otobtv^f^fT""  '!'^»"«ri^g?f■^irrors  for  astrononil^'teles»i^t^ 
notably  for  Leverner's  great  telescope  in  the  Paris  Observatory    for 

oA„* '•  *".  °«'^'''-  ,Two  solutions  are  prepared,  the  first  of  which 
tte^W ''t  k""'.^''  ^-"^  ^'  »^~°'*  t^=^"g»^  prepStion.  For 
of  n' teto  of1°mf^-  ^"^T-  °^'^*y*"  "^  '^^"  »'"i  1200  gimmes 
1 1^^?  of  ammonium  are  dissolved  in  10  litres  of  water,  and  13 
SrKniP'?7-^"?''°i.?^?  ^  '"  "t^  "f '^^t^f.  "ad  of  each  of  these 
Bolntions  1  litre  is  added  to  8  litres  of  water,  which  is  aUowed  t^ 

SmiVf """"  ''?^°"  ^"'l  '''™  decanted      The  seconTsolS^ 

o?£3S-F"^ -^^^^^^ 

•  Lf  i  operated  on  15  cubic  centimetres  of  the  silver  solution 
above  d^cribed  ar«  measured  out,  and  from  7  to  10  per  cent  o^' 
tt^lT^T  "^  "T'-'^.d  ™gar  is  added,  both  being  nuickl?sti^edto 
^if^i^'^iP'T'''  '^P''"y  ^°d  evenly  over  the  gll^.  The  rXction 
"iok&Wart-^l'-  -'"«™^^ibits  lints  pa^i^gThrough 
toSspSand  tbf^  '^.  ""/tout  seven  minutes  it  again  becomes 
^  exTemelv  thin  nnS°"i  "'  ""l?'  '^  <">'^V^^^-  Thi?  first  deposit 
Th7^T^!\  A  ;  ■  *"•""  *<>  transmission  of  bluish  ravs 
^n.lf^T^'^  '?'""°"  '^"^  ""^"IS  aid  unattached  dust-lfk; 
SSh  ii^tin/n  '»  "  'T^'^^y  '^P^d  <"^  ">«  ^"^-■■ed  surface  washed 
e^tentXlf  Aer°  t'l^'"  V^^'.f  ^^''  *^  "'^■^^d  ^olutions^to  the 
^rf„.=  !  •  '"/quantity  used  in  the  first  application.  The  finished 
fS^l  .VP*'^  """^  ^'^^^''^d  in  the  most  tLrough  manner  -for 
fi,rtw    *^°"  "'  '^"^^''=  ''"'*  '^ft  would  destioy  the  Sw     The 

«bS^nnH?r  »^  -'n"""  °"  ?'^'  '=  °°t  5°  adherent  and  unalter- 
?h  tinmercS^  'Ir^'  of  sunlight  and  sulphurous  fiimes  as 
Xl,,i    '^Z^  amalgam,  and  moreover  real  silvered  glass  has  a 

wluch  instantaneously  forming  a  kind  of  amalgam  render  th?deno?it 
nrot^c?  Z  fv'"'"  fl,'^  "^r  fi"nlyadhe^nt  than  before  To 
S^mL  .  \-  ■"  "^tallio  film  from  mechanical  injury  and  the 
tZ^^  *°"°°v.  "^  eases  and  vapours,   it  is  coated^A  sheUac 

to  Jfnire^tfr;^:;-!",^-^  IIZI  whSyTtC If  f  '^ 
adherent  deposit  of  platinum  is  formed  "on  the  Sai      rsoInHon  7f 

Srin,Tors  ntd  '^''P'^T''  'T'  «™amentailetters,  i-c. 
In  Oriental  c^nw;?^"'"",?'  "=**'  ^''^  ^""  '"  common  use 
tinue  to  b„Tf        ■  ?°d  especially  in  Japan  and  China  they  con- 

thamSst  remS^  period  men?L  „f  ^^'"k''?'''^  ^"?  ""'"^  f'™ 
literature  of  the  K^S^^'Ve  'eoutedTI  'f»''^^  Chinese 
minor  nreserved  at  Ui  iJ^'  Z-  ("^eputed)  first  made  Japanese 
Japan  and  a^ancieni  1,^  °  "''■'''='  "^""^  ^'S^"'*  veneration  in 
*  the'effect  that  i  wL^'  \TJ'"''='*  "'*  "^'^^  is  a  tradition 
■f  tte  emptre  L  a  SS"  ^^-  '^  ^u-VSoddess  at  the  foundation 
mimL  or^L^  Pnnapal  article  of  the  Japanese  regalia.  The 
."  tTtMks  fr  ^3  ri""'  r-.''"'Tn  general  they  con! 
metal  ^ritt  haS/rst' n^ne  p^t"  nc'riif'  °''^^^fT 
.».n.r  is  slightly  convex  in  forai,''rtiiat':':eS     ?d"J^^  °'set 


501 


proportionately  reduced  in  size;  the  back  of  the  disk  is  occnnied 
Zm,'^r:iT^lT''r  "^^^^tation  andt^scripS^I^ 
h^lLen  at^ted^  tb.  °  -'''^  ^  *^  ^"^^^  M"<=h  attention 
u^oeen  attracted  to  these  mirrors  by  a  singular  nhvsical  necnli 

attracted 'atSnhT''^"^  "Y"'^  ^J  *^  JapanesTb^ut  S^  ClLl? 
aciractea  attention   as  earlv  as    thp    n+Ti    ro«+,,L.   ^      ^^u-xna  »t, 

possessed  of  this  property^S  among*  the  ?Sse  at  "STo" 
even  twenty  bmes  tie  price  sought  for  the  ordi^  non-semWve 
examp  es  The  true  explanation  of  the  mr^iu?™  ^  w 
fefl'^-''^  the  Frencfi  physicist  Persou,Tho  Xrv^  SI 
the  reflecting  surface  of  the  mirrors  was  not  mufo™j7conye" 
the  portions  opposite  reUef  surfaces  being  pla^^  Se' 
A^lr^  ^','^^-''  "J^'  "^y'  '■^fl^'c'^  fr""  tfe  convex  poSon 
rtlf  ^"^  ^Z^  •""  *  ^^^^y  iUuminated  imageT  whSe  on 
the  contrary,  the  rays  reflected  from  the  planTrSrtioL  of*  the 
mirror  preserve  their  paraUelism,  and  appear  on  l,e  screen  L  an 
S^^t^ofT^S-t  *C«=nt^ast  with  t^^e  feeblerlmSati^n  o° 

sSrfl^  aie  is'^n  l-?\*  r^  ^""''''  °f  Pl«°^  "^  the  mi?ro 
tS  -t^  an  accidental  circumstance  due  to  the  manner  in 
Pe^  L  ir'""^'  V'f''.,  '==Tiained  by  Professors  Ayrton  an^ 
rtrry,  by  whom  ample  details  of  the  history,  process  of  maS. 
facture,  and  composifion  of  Oriental  mirrors  ?ave  beeTpubSd. 
fhf  ct?'dfs7  °f  ^"°°i?  P°!i=l"-ng  the  surface  consistsTsr^ 
no^Ho^,  l^t  y  -"^  direction  with  a  sharp  tool.  The  thicS 
of  the  tooUhan t"  ."v '« 'f '  "^f'  ""1  '■^^'^^u'c^  '0  tie  pressure 
at  fi„t  =  the  thm  flat  portions,  which  tend  to  yield  aiidfonn 

rL=  ff  ^^^T"  ^Yl^"''  ''"'  ">'^  ^y  the  reaction  of  its  elaaS 
nVW  ItT"''^!-^'"*  ^"""^  *  ^"^'•"y  """''^  surface  while  ?S?more 
[a?  if  Portwns  are  comparatively  Uttle  affected.  This  irregu- 
^v^  of  ^ffac?  -^  inconspicuous  in  ordinary  light,  and  do^  f^t 
visibly  distort  images  ;  but  when  the  mirror  reflate  a  bright  liZ 
on  a  screen  the  unequal  radiation  renders  the  minute  dSen<^  of 
surface  obvious.     The  ingenious  theory  of  Person  hasTen^b- 

rf  ^riW^i^i^^'sfiTfi?''  "r  "'"''*'"'  ,''y  "•  «»"  to  t''^  acXi, 

Rprthf^n^  nt^'  ^^  ■"?"  '"^""y  ^y  investigations  of  MM 

ser    vof  x.?^  ^^-    ®''  ^'"^'"  *  ^^^  ''  ^Phy^u^  (5th 

'  ^^'-  (J.  PA.) 

Ancient  Mirrors. 


atMn  <^  f  I  «la=sieal  antiquity  („iT.TT,o,,  apeculum)  was 
osUaUv^rL-lS"°tt  'Y"?,  """"^  ™  ""^  »'de  and  poUshed, 
Tf^Irf.  t  'r'*  ,*  'i?°'"''  ^o-netimes  momited  on  a  stand 
in  the  form  of  a  female  figure  (see  Costuihe,  vol.  vi  p.  463 
fig.  1),  sometimes  fixed  inside  a  circular  bronze  case.  The 
common  si^e  is  that  of  an  ordinary  hand  mirror.  Examples 
large  enough  to  take  in  the  whole  figure  appear  to  have  C! 
w;  b„i  fT  f.i^^^  '=■"■'  ■u^utioned,  and  tfiSngh  none  of  them 
sin.^1,0^^'"^  f'\'  '^'^''"'="  ""'^  "■"  1^  questioned  altogether, 
smce  the  process  of  silvering  occasionaUy  employed  on  bronze  Siirrori 

B,f  th^v  "r  """'"Sr  P^-^^^^  -"^y  ''''''=  been  applieTto^C 
show,  thlt  ^  '°'  """lu"  °^ '°,''™"  =""  ^^^'"S  from  antiS 
shows  that  bronze  was  the  regular  material  employed.  The  lllov 
known  as  speculum,  producing  a  very  hard  metal  with  great  reflecting 
fZJ^  K  "'"'Pa-f  "vely  seldom  met  with.  SUver  mirrors  are  m^- 
tioned,  but  none  have  as  yet  been  found. 

yZ^f^J™"}?^^  J^^^^^.ol.  ^Y-'^nt  mirrors.  especiaUy  those  of 
vm.  p  648).  While  twelve  incised  specimens  are  all  that  are 
h/n2r""  fr'  ^r""-.'^'  °"""^'  ''"""d  in  Etriii^a  m^l 
t,V.w,^  a  thousand.  As  a  nilo  the  subjects  incised  are 
S^o JT   ^"^i^A  ^yf-^'ogy    and    legend,    the    names  of  th^ 

^T^alt^T^'V""'^  '"^''''"]^  ^^''^''  '°  l^'™'<^n  letters 
and  orthography.  In  most  cases  the  stj'le  of  drawing,  the  types 
?i  ''i^/?u'^-'.  an.a  lie  manner  of  composing  the  groups  are  to^e 
tJ^A  /'"aractenstics  of  Greek  art.  Some  may  havJ  been  Z! 
morel  r^f^-f,!^,;  l^V' the  greater  number  appear  to  have  been 
more  or  less  faithfully  imitated  from  such  designs  as  occurred  on 
llt^^l"'°T"^°^^  r"^'^  ^'-^^l'  vases  wfich  the  Etr^ns 
,°n^  f  ^  J""  ^v""-  .  ^T""  ''here  distinctly  Etruscan  figures  are 
mtioduced  such  as  the  heroes  ^lius  and  CceUus  Vibenna  on  a 
niirror  in  the  British  Museum.  Greek  models  are  followed.  The 
characteristics  of  Greek  art  here  referred  to  date  fi-om  a  little  before 
400  B.O.,  and  last  for  some  time  after.  In  this  period  would  fall 
the  majority  of  the  Etruscan  mirrors,  and  to  this  period  also  belone 
tbe  Ureek  incised  mirrors,  among  which  may  be  mentioned  for  the5 
Beauty  one  representing  Leucas  and  Corinthus,  inscribed  with  their 
names  (engraved,  Monununis  Grecs,  1873,  pi.  3,  published  by  the 
Association  pour  1  encouragement  des  Etudes  Grecques),  and  another 
m  the  British  Museum  (Oazitle  Arch.,  ii  pi.  27),  on  the  back  of 
which  IS  a  figure  of  Eros  which  has  been  silvered  over.  With  this 
last-mentioned  mirror  was  found  the  bronze  case  used  to  contain  it, 


502 


M I R— M I S 


on  tho  back  of  which  is  a  group  of  AphrocHto  and  Eros  in  rcpoussie. 
It  was  found  in  Crete.  But  most  of^the  Greek  mirrors  and  mirror- 
cases  having  artistic  designs  are  from  Corinth.  One  I'sars  the  name 
of  tho  artist,  'AttowSs  inolei  (engrarcd.  Arch.  Zciiung,  1862,  pi. 
166,  fig.  1). 

Archaic  art  (about  500  B.O.)  is  represented  by  a  mirror  in  the 
British  Museum  from  Sunium  in  Attica.  The  mirror  itself  is  quite 
plain,  but  the  stand  is  composed  of  a  draped  female  figure,  above 
whose  head  float  two  cupids.  From  Etruria  there  is  a  comparatively 
small  number  :vith  archaic  incised  designs.  It  maybe  concluded  that 
the  luxury  of  mirrors  enriched  with  incised  designs  was  not  freely  in- 
dulged^ before  400  B.C.  iu  Etruria  and  never  to  any  extent  in  Greece. 
A  special  centre  of  incised  mirrors  was  the  Latian  town  of  Prsneste 
^Palestrina),  and  it  is  of  interest  in  regard  to  some  of  the  mirrors 
found  there  that'they  have  inscriptions  in  early  Latin.  Artistically 
they  have  a  purely  Greek  character.  Plain  mirrors  are  found 
wherever  Greek  and  Roman  civilization  spread,  and  it  may  be  seen 
from  a  specimen  found  in  Cornwall,  now  in  the  British  Museum, 
that  the  Celtic  population  of  England  had  adopted  the  form  and 
substance  of  the  mirror  from  their  conquerors.  This  specimen  is 
enriched  with  a  Celtic  pattern  incised.  The  shape  of  the  handle 
testiiies  to  native  originality.  Mirrors  were  used  in  Greece,  perhaps 
rarely,  for  divination,  as  appears,  for  example,  from  Pausanias  (vii. 
21,  5),  the  method  being  to  let  tho  mirror  down  into  a  well  by 
means  of  a  strin"  till  it  reached  close  to  the  surface  of  the  water. 
\V'hen  it  was  puUed  up  after  a  little  it  was  expected  to  show  the 
face  of  the  sick  person  on  whose  behalf  the  ceremony  was  performed. 
This  was  at  Patras. . 

Tho  principal  publicotions  on  ancient  mirrors  ovo  Gcrhnrd,  EtruskUche  SpifgeL 
Bdlin,  184S-C7, 4  vois.,  containing  430  plates;  for  the  Gicek  minors,  Mylonaa, 
'EAATjvtKci  icaTOJiTpa,  Athens,  1876,  and  Dumont,  Bullet,  de  Corresp.  Selle'it.,  1877, 
p.  108 ;  see  also  Friederichs,  Kleinere  Kmst  und  Indusl>-ie  tin  Atterthumy  Diissel- 
uorf,  1871,  p.  18  sq.;  and  Marquardt  and  Mommsen,  Handbuch  del-  romisrhcn 
AlltrlhuiTM;  rii.pt.  2,  p.  C70.  (A.  S.  M.) 

MfEZAPUR,  a  district  in  the  North- Western  Provinces 
of  India,  lying  between  23°  51'  30"  and  25°  31'  N.  lat., 
and  between  82°  9'  15"  and  83°  0'  36"  E.  long.,  is  bounded 
on  tbe  N.  by  Jaunpur  and  Benares,  on  the  E.  by  Shah4bdd 
and  LohirdagA,  on  the  S.  by  SargiljA  state,  and  on  the  W. 
by  AUahibAd  and  Rewah  state,  and  has  an  area  of  5217 
square  miles.  It  is  crossed  from  east  to  west  by  the 
Vindhya  and  Kilimur  ranges.  A  central  jungly  plateau 
connects  these,  and  separates  the  valley  of  the  Ganges 
from  that  of  the  Son. 

The  population  in  1S72  was  1,015,203  (males,  520,496;  females, 
494,707),  of  whom  049,644  were  Hindus,  64,809  Mohammedans, 
and  750  Christians.  The  non-Asiatic  population  numbered  623. 
Only  three  towns  had  a  population  exceeding  6000  : — Mirzapur, 
67,274;  Chanar,  10,154;  and  Ahraura,  9091.  Out  of  a  Govern- 
ment-a.s3essed  area  of  3048  square  miles,  1313  are  cultivated,  497 
cultivable  waste,  and  1233  uncultivabie.  The  part  of  Mirzapur 
which  lies  north  of  the  Vindhyas  is  very  highly  cultivated  and 
thickly  peopled,  but  the  rest  of  the  district  consists  largely  of 
ravines  and  forests,  with  a  very  sparse  population.  Local  manu- 
factures  comprise  carpets  of  a  superior  desciiption,  brass  ware,  and 
shellac.  The  East  Indian  Railway  traverses  the  district,  along  the 
right  bank  of  the  Gauges,  tor  a  distance  of  32  miles.  "Tlie  climate 
is  slightly  warmer  and  damiier  than  that  of  districts  farther  north 
and  east.     The  mean  annual  rainfall  is  42'7  inches. 

MirzApur,  chief  town  and  administrative  headquarters 
of  the  above  district,  is  situated  on  the  south  bank 
nf  the  Ganges,  5G  miles  below  AllahdbAd  (25°  9'  43"  N. 
lat.,  82°  38'  10"  E.  long.).  The  population  in  1872  was 
67,274,  of  whom  55,917  were  Hindus  and  11,053  Mo- 
hammedans. Up  to  quite  recent  years  MirzA])ur  was 
the  largest  mart  in  upper  India  for  grain  and  cotton ;  but 
of  late  its  commercial  importance  has  rapidly  decreased, 
owing  to  the  establishment  of  through  railway  communica- 
tion with  Bombay  via  Jabalpur,  and  the  rise  of  Cawnpore 
to  the  position  of  a  mercantile  centre.  Tho  river  front, 
lined  mth  stone  fjhdts  or  flights  of  stairs,  and  exhibiting 
numerous  mosques,  Hindu  temples,  and  dweUing-houseis  of 
the  wealthier  merchants,  with  highly  decorated  facjad^s  and 
lichly  carved  balconies  and  door-frames,  is  handsome ;  but 
the  interior  of  the  town  is  mainly  composed  of  mud  lint?. 
rhe  manufacture  of  shellac  gives  cmiiloyment  to  about  four 
thousand  persons ;  brass  ware  and  carpct-s  are  also  made. 
rhe  imjJorts  consist  of  grain,  sugar,  cloth,  metals,  fruit, 
apices,  tobacco,  lac,  salt,  and  cotton  ;  tin;  same  articles, 
ivitli  manufactured  lac-dve.  shellac,  and  qhi,  are  escorted. 


MISDEMEA3T0UK.  "  The  word  misdemeanour,"  says 
Russell  {Oil  Crimes,  voL  i.  chap,  iv.),  "  is  applied  to  all  those 
crimes  and  offences  for  which  the  law  has  not  provided  a 
particular  name."  Stephen,  in  his  Digest  of  ike  Criminal 
Law,  adopts  the  following  mode  of  distinguishing  between 
misdemeanour  and  other  crimes.  "  Every  crime  is  either 
treason,  felony,  or  misdemeauoui'.  Every  crime  which 
amounts  to  trea.son  or  felony  is  so  denominated  in  the  defini- 
tions of  crimes  hereinafter  contained.  All  crimes  not  so 
denominated  are  misdemeanours."  _It  is  customary  to  speak 
of  misdemeanour  as  implying  a  less  degree  of  crime  than 
felony  (see  Felony).  "  ilisdemeanours,"  observes  Russell 
in  the  passage  already  cited,  "  have  been  sometimes  termed 
misprisions ;  indeed  the  word  misprision,  in  its  larger  sense, 
is  used  to  signify  every  considerable  misdemeanour  which 
has'not  a  certain  name  given  to  it  iu  the  law,  and  it  is  said 
that  a  misprision  is  contained  in  every  felony  whatsoever, 
so  that  the  offender  may  be  prosecuted  for  misprision  at  the 
option  of  the  crown."  Misprision,  in  a  more  restricted  sense 
(or  negative  misprision),  is  the  concealment  of  an  offence. 
Positive  misprisions  are  contempts  or  misdemeanours  of  a 
public  character,  e.g.,  mal-administration  of  high  officials, 
contempt  of  the  sovereign  or  magistrates,  A'C.  The  rule 
as  to  punishment,  when  no  express  provision  has  been  made 
bylaw,  is  that  "every person  convicted  of  a  misdemeanour 
is  liable  to  fine  and  imprisonment  without  hard  labour 
(both  or  either),  and  to  be  put  under  recognizances  to  keep 
the  peace  and  be  of  good  beha-\-iour  at  the  discretion  of 
the  court"  (Stephen's  Digest,  art.  22).  By  28  &  29  Vict, 
c.  67  prisoners  convicted  of  misdemeanour  and  sentenced 
to  hard  labour  shall  be  divided  into  two  di\'isions,  one  of 
which  shall  be  called  the  first  division,  and  when  a  person 
convicted  of  misdemeanour  is  sentenced  to  imprisonment 
without  hard  labour  the  court  may  order  him  to  be  treated 
as  a  first-class  misdemeanant,  who  shall  not  ba  deemed 
a  "criminal  prisoner"  within  the  meaning  of  that  Act. 
The  Prison  Act,  1877  (§§  40,  41),  requires  prisoners  con- 
victed of  sedition  or  seditious  libel,  or  attached  for  contempt 
of  court,  to  be  treated  as  misdemeanants  of  the  first  class. 

In  New  York  and  some  other  States  of  the  American 
Union  the  legislature  has  defined  felony  as  any  crime 
which  is  or  may  be  punishable  with  death  or  imprisonment 
in  a  State  prison,  all  other  crimes  being  misdemeanours. 

MISHNAH.  The  Mishnah,  in  the  most  familiar  appli- 
cation of  the  name,  is  the  great  collection  of  legal  decisions 
by  the  ancient  rabbis  which  forms  in  each  Tabiud  the  text 
on  which  the  Gemara  rests,  and  so  is  the  fundamental 
document  of__the  oral  law  of  the  Jews.  The  question 
What  is  Mishnah?  was  asked,  however,  as  early  as  the 
latter  part  of  the  1st  or  the  early  part  of  the  2d  century, 
though  in  a  somewhat  different  sense  and  for  a  somewhat 
different  purpose.^  It  will  be  answered  in  the  course  of 
this  article  in  all  its  bearings. 

1.  Name. — Rabbinic  tradition  has  fixed  the  pointing 
Mishnah  (HJP'D)  by  giving  its  status-  eon^ruclus  as 
Mishnath.  Although  the  word  Mishnah  is  not  found  in 
the  Bible,  it  is  no  doubt  a  classical  Hebrew  term,  signi- 
fying something  closely  akin  to  Mishneh  (which  term 
occurs  more  than  once  there),  as  may  be  seen  on  comparing 
Mikvah  with  Mikvch,  Miknqh  with  Mihieh,  Ma'alak  with 
Ma'aleh,  and  Mar'ah  with  Mar'eh,  each  two  of  which  are, 
however  they  may  vary  in  practical  application,  un- 
questionably synonymous  terms.  Tho  practical  signifi- 
cations of  Mishnah  are  seven  in  number : — (1)  repeti- 
tion, i.e.,  tradition  :-  as  such  it  is  the  equivalent  of  the 


'  See  T.  B.,  A'irfrfi«Ain,.49(i. 

'  The  root  Shanok  (Hiw'),  from  which  ilishnah  is  immediately  de- 
rived, is  not  merely,  as  is  often  thought,  to  Uam,  to  Uach,  byt  to 
royeat :  and  it  is  in  reaUty  this  last  nieaaicg  which  naderhes  tho  twu 
lors.n. 


I  S  H  N  A  H 


503 


ZcvTcpaxTW  of  Epiphanius,^  the  tradkiones  et  trurepuKrai 
of  Jerome,'  the  hemipac-vi  of  Justiaian,'  and  the  n*3iJ' 
mirft  ("  ^^^  second  to  the  law ")  of  the  Aru/ch* ;  (2)  re- 
citation from  memory,  in  contradistinction  to  reading  from 
a  book  ;5  (3)  study :  as  such  it  Li  the  equivalent  of 
Midrash,  in  the  former  part  of  its  third  signification ;  (4) 
instruction  :  as  such  it  is  the  equivalent  of  Midraah  in 
the  latter  part  of  its  third  signification ;°  (5)  system, 
style,  view,  line  of  study  and  instruction :  as  such  it  is 
identical  with  .the  Talmudical  ShittaA;''  (6)  a  paragraph 
of  the  Mishiah:  it  is  invariably  employed  in  this  sense  in 
the  Babylonian  Talmud,  and  is  identical  with  the  word 
Salakha/i,  used  for  the  same  purpose,  in  the  Palestinian 
Talmud;  and  (7)  the  collection  of  the  decisions  of  the 
whole  "  oral  law,"  i.e.,  the  Mishnah  in  the  concrete  sense. 
The  word-  Mishnah  has  three  difierent  plurals  : — (1)  the 
traditional  Muhnayotk  for  signification  (7),  formed  on 
the  analogy  of  Mikvaoih  (not,  as  some  think,  on  that  of 
Mikraotk  or  Midrathoth) ;  (2)  the  correct,  though  ques- 
tioned, Minhniyyoth  for  signification  (6),  formed  on  the 
analogy  of  Panhiyyoth  from  Paro^hak  (or  Parshah),  not 
to  speak  of  that  of  Maadyyoih  from  Ma'oie/i ;  (3),  the 
somewhat  irielegant,  but  correct,  -MisknotJi,*  which  also 
serves  for  signification  (6).  Significations  (1),  (2),  (3), 
(4),  and  (5)  have,  however  inconsistent  it  may  appear 
when  one  takes  into  consideration  their  respective  equi- 
valents, no  plural  whatever.  So  much  for  the  Hebrew 
Mishnah.  The  Aramaic  Slathnitho  will  be  spoken  of 
later. 

2.  Contents  and  Nature. — The  Muhnah  consists  chiefly 
of  Halakhah;^  there  is,  comparatively  speaking,  little 
Agadah  i"  to  be  found  in  it.  It  is  not,  however,  as  many 
think,  either  a  commentary  on  the  Halakhic  portions  of  the 
Pentateuch,  or  on  the  ordinances  of  the  Sopherim,  or  on 
both  together.  It  rather  presupposes  the  knowledge  of, 
and  respect  for,  both  the  Mosaic  and  the  Sopheric  laws, 
and  it  only  discusses,  and  finaUy  decides  on,  the  best  mode 
and  manner  of  executing  these.  The  discussions  and 
eventual  decisions  to  be  found  in  the  ifishnah  owe  their 
existence  principally  to  deep  meditation  on  these  two 
kinds  of  laws,  notably  on  the  former,  by  the  rabbis  of 
various  ages,  but  chiefly  by  those  who  lived  fifty  years 
before  and  one  hundred  and  fifty  years  after  the  rise  of 
Christianity,  the  names  of  whom  it  faithfully  gives,  along 
with  their  respective  discussions  and  decisions.  There  are 
but  few  cases  to  be  found  in  the  Mishnah  which  would 
critically  come  under  the  denomination  of  an  Halakhah  U- 
Mosheli  mis-Sinai,  i.e.,  an  explanation  (of  a  law)  as  directly 

*  Userts.,  XV.  («oTck  ypafifiareuv),  in  fine.  Epiphanios  was  a  native 
of  Palestine,  even  if  he  was  not,  as  some  think,  of  Jewish  parentage. 
A3  a  Palestiniaa  writer  on  Jewish  and  senrii.Jewish  matters  he  must 
have  had  a  more  than  superficial  knowledge  of  the  Jewish  traditions 
(the  Mishnah,  &c. ).  And  indeed,  to  judge  from  the  account  he  gives 
of  the  various  Jemsh  traditions  (although  the  text  of  this  account  is 
extremely  corrupt  in  every  way),  he  was  pretty  well  informed.  For 
he  tells  us  tliat  the  Jews  have  four  kiuds  of  traditions  : — such  as  are 
ascribed  to  Moses  (by  which  he  no  doubt  means  the  Halakhah  le- 
Mosheh  mis-Sinai)  \  such  as  are  ascribed  to  the  sons  of  Asmcna^us 
(by  which  he  means  the  Telfanoth,  &c.,  of  the  Beth  Dim  shel  Hash- 
riionai;  see  T.  'B.,'Abodah  Zarah,  366);  such  as  are  ascribed 'to  E. 
'Akibah  (the  great  teacher  and  martjT) ;  and  such  as  are  ascribed  to 
R.  Andan,  &c.  (Rabbi  Ychudah  Hannasi). 

-  In  Jsaiam,  cap.  viii.  11-15. 

'  A'ov.  cxlvi.  (nsfpl  'EBpaluv)  Ki*.  i,  tn  medio. 

*  Article  nJCD  (first  defiuil-oa). 

'  Contrast  Shanoh  (DJE')  with  Kan  (KljJ). 
^  •  See  article  JIidrash,  p.  285. 

'See  Schlller-S'inessy,  Catalogue  of  Hebrew  ilSS.  in  the  ..amoridge 
University  Library,  ii.  p.  94. 

a  See  MS.  Add.  ■404  (Univereity  Library,  Cambridge),  leaf  283J. 

"  This  word,  derived  from  the  root  Halokh  (i?n),  to  go,  is  synony- 
mous with  Minhag  (custom,  practice)  and  Mishjiai  (rule),  &c 

^'^  For  the  meaning  of  this  term  and  the  Agadic  parts  which  are  to 
be  found  in  the  Mishnah.  se^  Mttjeass. 


given  by  God  to  Moses,  and  in  uninterrupted  sucoesblon 
received  from  him  by  the  rabbis.  Several  cases  given 
under  this  name  in  the  Mishnah  are  not  bona  fide  cases ;" 
for  the  test  of  such  an  Halakhah  is  that  it  must  never 
have  been  contested  by  any  one.>^ 

3.  Method. — ^A  Mishnah,  if  genuine,  never  begins  wth 
a  passage  of  the  Pentateuch,  and  even  comparatively 
seldom  brings  direct  proof  from  or  gives  reference  to  it. 
When  there  is  any  exception  to  this  rule  it  will  be  found, 
on  close  examination,  either  that  such  a  paragraph  belongs 
to  a  very  early  age  (that  of  the  Sophenm),  or  that  it  is  to 
be  found  in  another  work  of  the  "  oral  law,"  and  is  simply 
copied  in  the  Mishnah,  or,  what  is  more  likely,  that  if 
independent,  it  belongs  to  a  very  late  age,  or,  finally,  that 
the  proof  or  the  reference  thus  given  is  only  a  later  addi- 
tion. One  example  of  the  true  method  of  the  Mishnah  will,' 
perhaps,  better  illustrate  the  foregoing  statement  than  a 
sheet  full  of  theorizing  on  the  subject;  and  this  one  ex»:mple 
will  the  more  surely  suffice  because  of  its  mixed  (Mosaic 
and  Sopheric)  character.  It  is  the  very  first  paragraph  of 
the  whole  Mishnah,  and  runs  thus  :  "From  what  time  (of 
the  day)  does  (may,  should)  one  read  the  Shema'  ('the 
taking  upon  oneself  the  yoke  of  the  heavenly  kingdom ') 
in  the  evening  1 "  The  Mishnah  does  not  begin  :  One  is 
in  duty  bound  to  read  the  Shemd  in  the  evening,  because 
it  is  written  (Deut.  vi.  7),  "  And  when  thou  liest  down." 
For,  in  the  first  place,  the  law  to  read  the  Shemd  evening 
and  morning  is  not  unquestionably  Mosaic,  as  the  words, 
"And  thou  shalt  talk  of  them,  &c.,"  do  not  refer  to 
this  passage  of  the  law  particularly,  but  rather  to  the 
words  of  the  Pentateuch  in  general;"  and,  secondly,  it  is 
needless  to  say  that  one  is  in  duty  bound  to  recite  the 
Shemd  twice  a  day,  since  every  Jew  readily  acknowledges 
this  duty  and  executes  it,  although  it  is  not  Mosaic.  This 
duty  of  reading  the  Shemd,  the  grounds  on  which  this 
duty  rests,  and  how  it  is  best  fulfilled,  are  fully  and 
ably  discussed,  developed,  and  finally  settled  in  that 
part  of  the  Talmud  called  Gemara,'^* — the  business  of 
which  it  is  to  discuss  the  words  of  the  Mishnah  and  to 
show  the  sources  of  the  tradition,  and  eventually  the  pas 
sage  in  the  Pentateuch  (if  on  such  the  case  rest)  from 
which  the  respective  disputants  had  derived  their  views,  etc. 

4.  Pwryjosf.— Although  it  is  a  book  containing  Halakhic 
decisions,  the  Mishnah  was  never  intended,  as  many  think, 
to  enable  the  reader  thereof  to  decide  from  it  immediately. 
This  mistake  is  old  '^  and  widely  spread, — but  a  mistake 
nevertheless.  The  purpose  of  the  Mishnah  was  and  h 
simply  to  exhibit  the  development  of  the  "oral  law" 
and  the  view  taken  of  this  development  by  the  rabbis  of 
various  times.  For  this  reason  one  finds  side  by  side 
with  the  opinions  of  the  majority  those  also  of  the 
minority,  which  latter  are  very  carefully  given.  But 
why,  since  these  opinions  of  the  minority  can  have  no 
decisional  effect  ?     The  Mishnah  itself  ('Eduyyoth,^^  i.  5) 


"■  See  R.  Asher  b.  Yeliiel  (Harosh),  Hitekhoth  Mikvaoih  (coming 
close  after  tins  R.abbi's  commentary  on  Niddah,  in  the  printed  editions 
of  the  Bab.  Talmud),  i.  1. 

"  There  are,  however,  at  least  sixteen  such  bona  fide  Cases  to  be  found 
in  the  works  of  the  "oral  law." 

"  See  T.  B.,  Berakhcth,  on  Deut.  xi.  19. 

"  Oetnara,  or  Gernoro,  siguifies  concretely  discussion  on  and  final 
settlement  of  the  contents  of  the  Mishnah,  from  ge'.:mr  (ICIi),  to  study 
deeply,  to  come  to  a  final  result ;  which  last  signification  is,  to  some 
extent,  to  be  found  also  in  the  Hebrew  root  gamor  (103).  Compare 
T.  B,,  Boho  Metsi'o,  33a,  and  Kashi,  in  loco. 

" Sc3  T.  B.,  Sota!i,  22a. 

"  The  word  niny  is  variously  pointed:— '^dayott,  'Ediyoth,  and,  as 
in  the  text,  'Edvyyoth,  whicli  last,  if  the  name  come  from  {WIS, 
because  of  the  testimony  of  the  witnesses  on  which  this  Massekhelk 
chiefly  rests,  would  be  the  only  correct  one.  But  it  ought  to  be 
remarked  that  the  Babylonian  teachers  must  have  spelled  it  'Idi'rjoth 
(best  things),  since  its  eqniv.-ilent  is  given  by  them  as  Lihirij  (or 
Behirotho).     See  T.  B.,  Berakhoth,  27a  and  elsewhere. 


504 


M  i  h  M  jN   A  il 


answers  this  question  :  it  is  that  the  teacher  or  the  judge 
of  later  ages  may  he  thus  enabled,  if  he  have  good  grounds 
for  taking  a  view  different  from  that  of  the  majority  as 
given  hundreds  of  years  before,  to  reverse  the  old  decision, 
liy  forming,  on  the  strength  of  the  example  before  him, 
with  others  who  agree  with  him  (or  without  them,  if 
only  one  vote  was  wanted  to  reverse  the  majority)  a  fresh 
majority.  Thus  the  Jewish  "  oral  law  "  can  never  become 
ossified  like  the  laws  of  the  Medes  and  Persians. 

5.  Language. — The  Mishnah  is,  on  the  vhole,  written 
in  almost  pure  Hebrew ;  and  even  the  originally  non- 
Hebrew  words  (Aramaic,  Greek,  Latin,  itc.)  are  so  skil- 
fully Hebraized  that  they  are  a  most  creditable  testimony 
to  the  linguistic  powers  both  of  many  of  the  disputants 
mentioned  in  it,  whose  very  words  are  in  most  cases  given, 
and  of  the  editor '  or  editors  who  revised  them. 

6.  Age  and  Authorship. — R.  Yehudah  Hannasi  (the 
Prince),  the  reputed  author  (in  reality  only  the  principal 
and  best  among  the  editors)  of  the  Mishnah,  was  born 
before  the  year  140  of  the  Christian  era.  His  name  was 
in  full  Yehudah  b.  Shime'on  b.  Gamliel  b.  Shime'on  b. 
Gamliel-  b.  Shime'on  b.  Hillel.  On  account  of  his  holy 
living  he  was  surnamed  Eabbenu  Hakkadosh,  and  on 
account  of  his  great  learning  and  authority  he  was  called 
simply  "Rabbi"  ("My  Teacher"  ^xire^cfWfiice).  Rabbi  and 
his  lime,  however,  are  no  tenninus  a  quo  for  the  composi- 
tion of  the  Mishnah.  For,  not'  to  speak  of  many  isolated 
Mishniyyoth  which  can  be  brought  home  to  R.  Meir,  to  R. 
'Akibah,  to  Hillel,'  to  Yose  b.  Yo'ezer,*  and  to  others,  even 
to  the  earliei-  Sopherimf  we  find  that  R.  Yose  b.  Halaphta 
of  the  1st  century  already  quotes  the  beginning  and  end- 
ing of  a  whole  Mishnic  treatise  (Kelim''),  and  that  in  the 
same  century  (or  very  early  in  the  2d)  another  treatise 
consisting  of  early  testimonies  ('Eduyyoih '')  was  put  into 
order.  Moreover,  although  the  phrases  Mishnath  Ji. 
Eliezer  h.  Ya'akob^  and  Mishnath  E.  'AMbah^  do  simply 
signify  the  systems,  styles,  and  views  of  these  two 
eminent  teachers,  there  can  be  little  doubt  that  they  and 
others  besides  them,  presided  over  colleges  in  which  the 
whole  Halakhic  matter  was  systematically  treated  and 
regularly  gone  through.  Nor  are  Rabbi  and  his  time  for 
the  composition  of  the  Mishnah  a  terminus  ad  quevi,  for  the 
Mishnah  was  not  brought  to  a  close  till  a  very  long  time 
afterwards.  Not  only  did  R.  Hiyya  Rabbali,  R.  Hosha'yah 
Rabbah,  and  Shime'on  bar  Kappara  redact  Mishnayoth,^" 
but  in  the  Mishnah  before  us  notices  are  actually  found 
Avhich  reach  to  the  end  of  the  3d  century,  if  not  even  later. 
The  statement  that  Rabbi  was  the  first  to  ViTite  down  the 


^  The  Hebrew  si)oken  in  the  house  of  the  principal  editor  of  the 
X^ishnah  was  so  coirect  that  rabbis  actually  learnt  the  meaning  of 
uncommon  words  of  the  Bible  from  the  handmaidens  of  this  house. 
See  T.  B.,  Hash  Hasshanah,  266.  As  for  Kabbi  himself,  he  was  not 
merely  a  fine  Hebrew  scholar,  but  a  fine  Greek  scholar  also.  He  was 
nlso  a  purist ;  for  in  T.  B. ,  Sotah,  494,  he  is  reported  to  have  exclaimed, 
"  Why  should  any  one  speak  in  Palestine  '  Sursi' !  Let  him  speak 
cither  Hebrew  or  Greek  !  "  In  using  the  word  "  Sursi "  for  "  Surith  " 
(Syi-iac),  he  no  doubt  makes  a  punning  allusion  to  the  mixed  (cut-up) 
iharacter  of  the  language,  corrupted  from  Hebrew,  Chaldee,  Persian, 
Greek,  and  Latin. 

-  This  was  the  teacher  of  St  Paul.  ■ 

*  In  atldition  to  such  well-known  Agadic.^/'iVAntyyoM  as  those  whicn 
;Te  distinctly  ascribed  in  Aboth  to  Hillel,  see  Mishnah  Kiddushin,  iv. 
I ;  and  contrast  it  with  the  language  and  stylo  of  the  Mishnah  in 
general,  and  that  of  Massckhto  Kiddushin  in  particular. 

*  Mishnah' EdiLyiioUt,  viii.  4. 

*  See  Mishnah  Ma'astr  Shcni,  v.  7;  Sotah,  v.  1,  2;  l^ega'im,  xii. 
5,  6,  7,  &c. ;  though  it  cannot  bo  said  that  these  passages  preserve 
tlic  teaching  of  the  So2)ho-im  in  their  original  purity. 

''  SQe'Mishnah  Kdim,  in  fine. 

'  SceT.  'B.,Bcrakhoth,  2Sn  :  "  It  is  handed  down  orally  (Njn)  that 
J!d:iyyDlh  w.ts  on  that  day  (when  R.  El'azar  b.  'Aiao'ah  was  installed 
AS  presi'lcnt)  gone  through,"  i.e.,  redacted. 

«T.  13.,  I'ebamolh,  49b. 

*  Mishnnh  Sjfnhcdrin,  iii.  4. 

"  See  ^(ihckik  Ralluh  on  ii.  8  in  medio. 


Mishnah  is  untrue,  because  the  thing  is  impossible.  '  For 
the  two  Talmuds,  of  which  that  of  Babylonia  was  not 
finished  before  the  6th  century  (if  then),  know,  certainly, 
nothing  of  the  writing  down  of  the  Mishnah.  On  the 
contrary,  their  language  throughout  presupposes  ihe  Mish- 
nah in  their  time  to  have  been  what  its  name  indicates,  a 
repetition,  i.e.,  a  thing  acquired  by  continual  recitation, 
because,  like  the  other  works  of  the  "  oral  law "  {Torah 
shclbe'al  peh),  it  was  to  be,  and  Vfas,  handed  down  orally.'^ 
As  for  the  difficulty  of  keeping  in  memory  such  a  stu- 
pendous and  vast  work  as  the  Mishnah,  it  is  sometimes 
forgotten  in  this  controversy  that  memory  was  aided  by 
a  great  variety  of  mnemotechnic  means,  such  as  numbers 
and  names  of  teachers,  and  by  the  existence  of  other  works 
of  the  "  oral  law,"  which,  although  they  also  were  not 
written  down,  could  be  easily  kept  in  memory  because 
they  rested  on  letters,  words,  and  verses  of  the  written 
Pentateuch.  Anyhow,  there  is  ample  evidence,  both  nega- 
tive and  positive,  that  the  Mishnah  as  we  now  have  it 
was  not  committed  to  writing  in  the  times  of  Rabbi  or 
for  long  afterwards.  But  it  certainly  does  not  follov 
that  no  merit  is  due  to  Rabbi  in  connexion  with  the 
Mishnah.  His  merit  in  connexion  with  it  is  great  in 
every  way.  For  (1)  Rabbi  was  himself  a  link  in  the 
chain  of  tradition,  since  he  had  "  received "  from  his 
own  father  and  so  on  up  to  his  ancestor  Hillel  and  even 
higher ;  (2)  he  gave  in  the  Mishnah  his  own  decisions, 
in  most  cases  in  accordance  with  those  of  the  famous  E. 
Mcir,  which  are  thus  in  a  great  part  secured  to  us ;  (3) 
in  giving  his  own  decisions  he  preserved  to  us  also  a 
good  many  decisions  of  the  teachers  of  the  2d  century  ; 
(4)  in  collecting  all  these  decisions  he  anxiously  ascertained 
the  genuine  formulas  of  the  older  Mishniyyoth ;'-  (5)  he 
did  not  merely  reproduce  the  formulas  which  he  esteemed 
the  best,  but  discussed  them  anew  in  his  own  .college, 
which  was  composed  of  men  of  the  highest  eminence,  as 
is  well  known;  (6)  although  he  gave  on  the  whole  the 
very  language  of  the  teachers  who  preceded  him,  he 
gauged  it,  guarding  it  against  the  barbarisms  which  are 
so  plentiful  in  the  other  works  of  the  "  oral  law  "  ;  and  (7) 
he  scattered  the  Mishnah  broadcast  (though  only  by  word 
of  mouth)  over  all  Palestine  and  Babylonia  by  means  of 
the  disciples  who  flocked  to  him  from  all  parts  of  those 
countries.  K  the  Mishnah,  as  it  now  exists,  is  not  entirely 
his,  it  certainly  belongs  to  him  in  a  great  measure  and  in 
more  than  one  sense. 

7.  Value  and  Appreciation. — Whatever  can  be  said  in 
favour  of  the  Agadah  applies  with  equal  if  not  greater 
force  to  the  Mishnah,  as  the  litter  is  a  canonical  and 
therefore  more  reliable  work  of  the  "oral  law."  The 
Mishnah  is  one  of  the  richest  mines  of  archaeology  which 
the  world  possesses.  But  it  waits  yet  for  the  master 
touch  to  break  the  spell  which  holds  it  bound.  Great, 
however,  as  the  value  of  the  Mishnah  is,  its  popu- 
larity has  never  been  steady,  but  has  been  continually 
fluctuating,  and  that  for  various  reasons.  Even  Rabbi 
in  his  time  had  to  ai>peal  for  due  attention  to  it.  Whilst 
it  was  neglected  in  troublous  times  by  the  masses,  who 
ran  after  the  Agada/i,^^  which,  besides  being  consoling, 
needed  no  particular  study,  it  was,  in  prosperous  times, 
neglected  by  the  rabbis  themselves  through  the  study  of 
the  Bible  and  the  Talmud."     And  much  more  was  this 

"  See  particiJarly  T.  B.,  JSobo  SIclsCo,  33a  and,  ft;  and  compare 
also  Rashi,  in  hco.  ,    ■ , 

'-  See  T.  y.,  Ma'aser  SItcni,  v.  1;  and  compare  the' preceding  note. 

"  See  MiDRASH,  p.  285,  note  14. 

"  R.  Yohanan  said,  This  Mishnah  {Doraitho),  that  no  study  can  cx^ 
eel  that  of  Gemara,  was  taught  in  the  time  of  (and  by)  Rabbi  himself. 
Thou  the  people  went  after  Gemara  and  neglected  the  study  of  the  Mish- 
nah. Whereupon  ho  ajnin  bade  them  ever  nin  more  after  Mishnah 
than  iifttr  Criiinjv.     T.  B.,  B'Jio  Mctsi'o,  ZZb,  and  Rashi,  in.  loco. 


M  I  S  H  N  A  H 


505 


thi   case  when  the  Talmud  had  developed,  from  a  mere 
gtndious  activity  to  two  concrete  works  of  large  size. 

8.  The  Ultimate  Writing  Doim  of  the  Mishnah. — The 
troubles  of  the  unhappy  Jews  had  multiplied  everywhere. 
The  masses,  as  already  stated,  preferred,  in  consequence  of 
these  troubles,  the  Agadah.  But  the  number  of  the 
learned  also  diminished  through  these  troubles  day  by  day ; 
and  the  comparatively  few  that  remained  preferred  more 
and  more  the  Talmud  (in  Palestine  the  Palestinian  and  in 
Babylonia  the  Babylonian),  which  was  a  better  field  for 
the  exercise  of  their  ingenuity.  The  fate  of  the  Mishnah 
would'  have  been  sealed  had  it  not  been  ultimately 
written  down.  But  the  writing  down  of  Halakhah  en 
masse  had  been  prohibited  in  early  times.  Two  considera- 
tions, however,  ultimately  removed  all  scruples.  (1)  It 
was  a  time  to  do  something  for  God,  even  if  by  such  doings 
BQs  law  was  apparently  destroyed.'  Le^ne  (and  a  minor) 
law  be  disregarded,  so  that  many  (and  higher)  laws  be 
preserved.  The  Halahhoth  of  the  Mishnah  were  numerous 
and  the  studeiits  few ;  the  power  of  tyranny  increased  and 
that  of  the  memory  decreased  by  reason  of  the  persecution. 
(2)  The  language  of  the  Mishnah,  although  pure,  and  in- 
deed purer  than  the  language  of  several  books  of  the  Bible, 
was  so  concise  and  terse  that  it  could  not  be  understood 
without  a  commentary;  and,  therefore,  even  after  being 
written  down,  it  would  virtually  retain  its  oral  character. 

9.  Recensio7is. — The  Mishnah  has  three  principal  recen- 
sions : — (1)  the  Mishnah  as  presented  in  the  work  standing 
by  itself ;  (2)  that  on  which  the  Palestinian  Talmud  rests  ; 
and  (3)  that  of  the  Babylonian  Talmud.  The  first-named 
and  the  kst-named  Mishnayoth  have  always  been  known 
as  complete ;  the  second,  however,  was  supposed  for 
several  hundred  years  to  be  imperfect,  lacking  four 
Pei-akim  in  Shahhath,  two  entire  Massehhioth  in  the  Seder 
Nenkin,  the  whole  of  the  Seder  Kodoshim,  and  by  far  the 
greater  part  of  the  Seder  Tohoroih.-  But  since  1869  this 
recension  also  has  been  kno^\'n  to  have  been  always  com- 
plete ;  and  it  is  to  be  found  in  its  entirety  in  a  MS.  pui^ 
chased  in  that  year  for  the  University  Library  of  Cam- 
bridge (Add.  470.  1).  Besides  these  three  there  are  many 
minor  recensions,  touching,  however,  only  isolated  read- 
ings. These  last  are  to  be  attributed  chiefly  to  copyists. 
The  origin  of  the  difference  between  the  principal  recen- 
sions is  to  be  sought  in  the  following  two  facts : — (1) 
Rabbi  had  himself  gone  twice  through  the  Mishnah  and 
had  himself  considerably  altered  the  wording  of  the  text;' 
and  (2)  his  successors  in  early  and  late  times  had  wilfully 
altered  and  corrected  the  original  text. 

10.  Dimsions  and  Detailed  Contents  of  tlie  Uishnah. — Tbe  ilish- 
nnh  in  all  recensions  is  divided  into  six  Scdarim  (ordere),  each  of 
which  contains  a  number  of  Massck-htoth*  (treatises),  which  stand 
in  connexion  with  one  another.  These  are  subdivided  into  Pera^im 
(chapters),  and  these  again  into  Halnhhoth  or  Miskniyyoth  (para- 
graphs called  Mishnoth).'  The  number  of  the  Scdarim  is  six, 
that  of  the  MassclcMoth  sixty,'  and  that  of  the  Pcrakim  523,  or, 

*  This  is  a  somewhat  inexact  application  of  Ps.  cxix.  126,  but  it  has 
licen  more  than  once  acted  upon  both  in  ancient  and  modem  times  by 
the  Jews.  Compare  the  explanation  given  in  T.  B.,  BcraUtoth^  63a, 
and  Menahoth,  99a. 

*  Xiddalt  is  the  only  ifasselheth  of  this  Setter  of  which  three  entire 
Perakim  are  to  bo  fonnd  in  the  printed  editions.  Compare  Schiller- 
Szinessy,  Occasional  Kotlces,  kc,  i.  (Cambridge,  1878,  8vo)  p.  8. 

'  See  T.  B.,  Bobo  JitctsCo,  Ua,  and  elsewhere. 

*  Whether  the  word  ilassekheth  comes  from  Masokh  CnDD,  to  pour 
into,  to  mix,  &c.),  or  from  Nasokh  (^bO,  to  pour,  to  mix,  to  weave, 
tc),  it  signifies  in  cither  case  here  a  mould,  a  form,  a  frame.  Mas- 
tekhelh  has  three  several  plurals  :— (1)  the  common  MasseklUoth  (not 

*Uassikhloth) ;  (2)  the  less  common  Massekhoih  (see  MS.  Add.  470.  1, 
belonging  to  the  University  Library  of  Cambridge,  leaf  69a  and  else- 
where) ;  and  (3)  Massekhtiyyoih  (nVnaDD),  see  Midrash  Rahbah  on 
Canticles  \i.  8,  9.  The  Aramaic  MasseklUo  (not  ilassikhto)  has  in  the 
plur.ll  ilassekhotho,  the  use  of  which  is.  however,  very  uucommou. 
'  Compare  above,  p.  503. 

*  Compare  Midrash  Rahbah  on  CanticlM  \\.  8,  9. 

10—10* 


with  a  fourth  Pereji:  to  BUckurim,  624.'    The  following  Is  z  schema 
of  the  whole  Zfishnah.^ 

I.  Zera'im  (on  Agriculture,  preceded  by  the  Treatise  on  Thanks- 
givings').  (1)  Bcrakhoth  lyAessiags),  in  nine  chapters  ;  (2)  Pcah 
(Lev.  six.  9,  &c.),  in  eight  chapters;  (3)  Demai  (fruit,  grain, 
&c.,  doubtful  if  tithed),  in  seven  chapters  ;  (4)  Kil'ayim  (mixtures 
of  plants,  animals,  and  garments  respectively),  in  nine  chapters  ; 
(5)  SheWUhi^eux  of  release),  in  ten  chapters  ;  (6)  Tcriimoth  (gifts 
to  the  priests),  in  eleven  chapters  ;  (7)  ila'aser  Sheni"  (Deut.  xiv. 
22-27),  in  five  chapters  ;  (8)  Ma'aser  Rishon,  otherwise  Ma'ascroth 
(I^evitical  tithes),  in  five  chapters  ;  (9)  HallaJi  (Num.  xv.  19-21), 
in  four  chapters;  (10)  'Orlah  (Lev.  xix.  23),  in  three  chapters; 
and  (11)  Bikknrim  (Deut.  xxvi.  1-10),  ia  thiee  (commonly  four) 
chapters. 

II.  Mo'ed  (on  Festival  Times).  (1)  Sliablalh  (Sabbsth),  in 
twenty -four  chapters;  (2)  'Enibin  (mixtures,  i.e.,  ideal  union  of 
divided  spaces),  in  ten  chapters ;  (3)  Pesah  (commonly  Pcsahim, 
i.e.,  Passover),  in  ten  chapters  ;  (4)  Kippurim  (commonly  Ymna, 
i.e.,  "  the  day  "  [of  atonement]),  in  eight  chapters ;  (5)  Shckalim 
(Exod.  XXX.  12-15),  in  eight  chaptei-s  ;  (6)  Sukkah  (Lev.  xxiii. 
34-43),  in  five  chapters  ;  (7)  Bdsah  ("an  egg,"  so  called  from  the 
beginning  of  the  treatise;  also  Yom  Tob,  i.e.,  on  work  prohibited, 
or  permitted,  on  festivals),  in  five  chapters  ;  (8)  Rash  Ilasshanah 
(on  the  various  kinds  of  new  year,  as  religious  or  civil,  the  king's 
accession  and  coronation,  &c.),  in  four  chapters  ;  (9)  Tdaniyyoth 
(fast-days),  in  four  chapters  ;  (10)  Mcgitlah  (reading  of  the  book  of 
Esther,  other  readings,  &c. ),  in  four  chapters;  (11)  Hagigah 
(festival-offerings),  in  three  chapters;  (12)  ilashkin  (so  called  from 
the  be^nning  of  the  treatise,  but  commonly  Mocd  Katan,  on  work 
prohibited,  or  permitted,  on  the  middle  holidays  of  Passover  and 
Tabernacles),  in  three  chapters. 

III.  Nashim  (Women).  (1)  Nashim  (so  called  from  the  first 
distinctive  word  of  the  treatise,  but  commonly  Yebamoth,  on 
sisters-in-law,  the  le\'irate,  kc),  in  sixteen  chapters;  (2)  EctMiloth 
(marriage-pacts,  settlements,  kc),  in  thii-teen  chapters;  (3)  Ncdari^n 
(vows),  in  eleven  chapters;  (4)  Nazir  (Num.  vi,  2-21),  in  nine 
chapters  ;  (5)  Qittin  (bills  of  divorcement  and  other  bills),  in  nine 
chapters;  (6)  Kiddushin  (beti'othal  and  marriage),  in  four  chapters; 
(7)  Sola  (mostly  Sotah,  Num.  v.  12-31),  in  nine  chapters. 

IV.  Nezikim,  commonly  J\'<;ji7.-iK  (Damages,  &c.;  see  E.xod.  xxi. , 
xxii.,  kQ.).  (1)  'Kczikin  (commonly  Bobo  Kammo,  the  Former 
Gate,  in  ten  chaptere ;  Bobo  Mctsi'o,  the  Sliddle  Gate,  in  ten 
chapters;  and  Bobo  Baihro,  the  Last  Gate,  in  ten  chaptere"),  in 
thirty  chapters;  (2)  Syixhedrin  (courts  of  justice,  &c.),  in  eleven 
chapters;  (3)  iCakkoth  ("forty  stripes  save  one,"  &c.),  in  threo 
chapters  ;  (4)  Shcbuoth  (oaths,  &c. ),  in  eight  chapters ;  (5)  'Eduyyoth 
(testimonies)  or  'Idiyyoth  (chiefest  or  best  things '-),  in  eight  chap- 
ters ;  (6)  'Ahodtth  Zarah  (idolatry),  in  five  chapters;  (7)  yiboth' 
(see  MiDRAsn,  p.  286),  in  five  chanters ;  (8)  Uorayoth.  (judicial] 
errors,  teachings,  and  decisions),  in  three  chapters. 

V.  KoDOsniM  (Holy  Things).  (1)  Zebahim^'  (sacrifices),  in.'' 
fourteen  chapters ;  (2)  MenaJtoth  (meat-oflerings),  in  thirteen! 
chapters  ;  (3)  ShehiUith  Hidlin  (slaying  animals  for  common  food; 
commonly  ITullin,  or  common  food),  in  twelve  chapters  ;  (4)  Bc'i 
khoroth  (the  first-boi-n  of  beast  and  man),  in  nine  chapters  ;  (6)j 
'Arakhim,  commonly  Urachin  (on  valuations  ;  seo  Lev.  xxvii.j 
2-33),  in  nine  chapters  ;  (6)  Tcmwah  (Lev.  ix.  10,  33),  in  seven' 
chapters ;  (7)  KaretMh,  not Kerithoth  (sins  the  punishment  of  whicK| 
is  excision),  in  six  chapters;  (8)  Mc'ilah  (Num.  v.  6,  7),  in  six  chap- 
ters; (9)  Uiddolh  (description  of  the  temple  and  its  measurements  ; 
see  Midrash,  p.  286),  in  five  chapters ;  (10)  Tamid  (perpetual  or 
daily  sacrifice),  in  sLx  (commonly  arranged  in  seven)  chapters  ;  (11) 
Kinnim  (sacrifices  of  birds),  in  three  chapters. 

VI.  ToHOROTH  (Purifications).  (1 )  A'f/i'm  (impurities  of  vessels), 
in  thirty  chapters  ;  (2)  Oholoth  (Num.  xix.  14-16,  &c.),  in  eighteen 
chapters ;    (3)  Ncya  im   (plague   of  leprosy  in   man,    house,   and 

j  garment),  in  fourteen  chaptere;  (4)  Parah  (Num.  xix.  1-19),  in 
twelve  chapters  ;  (5)  Tohoroth  (euphemism  for  impurities),  in  ten' 
chapters ;  (6)  Mikvaoth  (religious  baths),  in  ten  chaptere ;  (7) 
Niddah  (Lev.  xv.  19-33),  in  ten  chapters  ;  (8)  Maklishirim  (liquids 

'  Othere  include,  instead  of  a  fourtli  Perek  of  Bikkmnm,  the  Perek 
Rabbi  Meir,  i.e.,  the  treatise  "  On  the  Acquisition  of  the  Law."  The 
original  Mishnah,  however,  had  neither  of  these  two  Perakim. 

'  In  this  scheme  the  Cambridge  JIS.  of  the  Mishnah  is  taken  as 
the  groundwork,  while  the  variations  in  title,  &c.,  are  given  from  the 
common  texts. 

'  Corap.ire  St  Paul's  words,  Eph.  v.  20,  tSxapiiTToiJiTej  irdj'TOTr 
inrep  trivTiav. 

'"  Oa  the  apparent  anomaly  of  Ma'aser  Sheni  preceding  Ma'astr 
Rishon,  see  Schiller-Szinessy's  Catalogue  of  Hebrew  MSS.  m  tiu: 
Cambridge  University  Library,  vol,  ii.  p.  1,  note  4. 

»  In  the  Cambridge  JIS.  Add.  470.  1,  Massekhto  Setikln  is  given 
correctly  .is  one,  containing  thirty  chapters.  Compare  T.  B. ,  B<Ao 
Kammo,  leaf  102a,  'Abodah  Zarah,  7a,  and  Midrash  Shemuel,  v. 

n  See  p.  503,  note  16. 

u  Also  known  under  Shehitath  J^odoshim. 


506 


piedi^iposing  for  the  contraction  of  imparities,  Lev.  -i   34)  in  sii 

U.  EdUio,is.-TU  editions  of  tho  Jfishnah,  wlietlier  as  a  book 
by  Itself  or  as  contained  in  the  Babylonian  Talmud  are  too 
numerous  to  be  mentioned  here.  The  JLp^.^cm  li  the 
m^Zv^  Tt  V.T'^'"  \''?h  ^"'"-^'^'^  (withMai^nonM  s's  com 

P  50l)  afdTt^t  ''^"^'"'?.  °"'"™"y  '^  i-'complet'e  tZSe 
Psee  Iri;,-!  W  «  •  ■  "'°^T'"'  ™f"'^'"'l  by  the  scribe  of  1288-89 
(see  Schiller-Szinessy,  Occasiomt  Polices,  &c.,  i.  pp.  8    11)      The 

7^iTl  °/w-  ^'"r'-'="J-  P!-'^^=  of  Cambridge  have  tVere  o^c  aid  the 
leaine.1  public  nnder  considerable  obligations  by  publishing  for  the 
first  time  the  complete  original  i)/M»aA  on  which  the  Pa?esan  an 
U^^r'''  ''"^  "^-^  ""'1-  MS.  preserved  in  th^  Um'Sy 
^  12.   Translations —There  exist  translations  of  the  Mishnah  in 

the  ln'oHferA''b'"f  ^°flf'^  .("  T'^'re  is  a  Latin  Lnstt  ^n  b^ 
the  In  others  Abendana  (R.  Ya'akob  and  R.  Yitshak)      Th/f„rm„ 

'almottSTuT^^ufartT.eVti""'™'-^"   °"   *^   ^^"''""^  "- 
^1^  enumerated  here      tL^  '     ?'  f"  ?^r°',*"^f°'-'=  ^e  sped- 

%f-&,i.-^„^^th£^t     - 

jviz.,  tnatonro/ioroM)  has  appeared  in  the  collection 


MISHNAH 


,..  ,      .^'"^  ^\-.'?-  Lowe's  able   edition   of  this   erand   wml-  in.. 
MMomokuh  the  Palestinian  Tahnud  r\2.  Sri.ll'SiJ': 

lers""^™   p'sirR' vft^lT'^r  "{^^'Olo-Jcoish  nutary,  London, 

n»:^TSL^ni^iy"£?ii'^^r|:^td 

WagensoU    (SoteA),     Cocceius   (;l/""foW)    Fairs  ?^;Lif  t"'"','^ 

Talmud  will  one  day  come  to  light  somowhcreTn  he  E^t  see  Sch  ler 
fcniessy  in  the  Acadany,  February  23,  1878     /^.-cwi   ,7-        ,' 


^olc^  Udasi  Yedc  Ocmim,  kc.  (Berlin,  1856,  8vo).     (3)  The  com 
mentary  on  vanoua  treatises  of  the  B.  Talmud  and  iridltflfi 

ra!sr(?;^.zrri.r^r«^^ret^^^ 
H=«s°^?s-ngi^i-iSS  r 

centuries.  His  commentary  ou  tlio  tI  Sud  and  th!l  in^^  ".  '' 
on  the  Mishnah.  h  now  beinc-  published  S.  the  vl,^-"^"'^ 
Babylonian  Talmud.'  (5)  Th°e  cCmentary  of  ElhiTAsit '  U 
those  parts  of  the  B.  Talmud  on  which  that  "  nriJ,™  '.f  ^  ' 
tators-  wrote.  Here  ought  to  ba  meitioned^^o  the  Tpa";:?: 
editwprinccps  of  tliis  commentary  as  far  as  the^i<,*«!s  ?f 
cerned,  which  appeared  at  Leghorn  in  ?653-54  8vo  m  Th: 
supplements  and  ad.litions  to  life  commentary  of  Eashibv  hi  It 
m-kw  Rabbenu  Ychudah  b.  Nathan  (c.^.Tt.  B  l^alLft^  fof 
Ras'hbr^'^  ^^  ^t  S"""^^""^  I^''^™"  Shemuel 'b    1  eM^ 

^m&t^t>^1.,r»U^^^~£3 
and  opponent  of  Maimonides)  on  the  orde?.  J'zcrfinv  (w^h  sS^ 
ments  taken  from  the  works  of  the  somewhat  older  KYitSb 
S^  l"^''^',??'^  r^/«™«A.=  (10)  The  commentary  by  K.  Met  o' 
.mler  fl3^\  W  ''mf^f  ""?""  of  Rudolph  of  ^Ha^sburg),  see 
maer  (13)  below.  (11)  The  commentary  by  R  Asher  b  YeW 
(a  disciple  of  the  foregoing,  who  died  at  Toledo  in  1 4n  n„ ' tJ  ■» 
one  treatises  of  the  orders  i  and  vi      hAtk!      ^32/)  on  twenty- 

n  ,L  H  ii°",'f "'"/ ™  *''*  "h"!'^  ^/mAmA,  by  R.  Yomt?b  L?^' 
mann  Heller  (flourished  in  16th  and  l/th  centuries?  TbirforT^r 
(Pi^'u-  -fi'-.^omeof  the  greatest  cong"Sns  IfV^lZ 

meSyofR'"ZroTRo«rr''  ^^^Poralel  much  of  Ihe  com- 
14     L°;,f;  o  ,    o   Kothenburg  ;  compare  under  (10). 

ostensibly  the  Aramaic  equivalnt  of  tlffneW;.    if!fnWu,hxyM,^ 
\t^''}T'-"-   *i  -=-^- tdMpriset  n  r  STev'er^' 

I'll' W^^A^x^sirt  t/x;  ,^:l^€  F^ 

law,  and  many  literary  notices  of  Mklm.V  7ni  Xf  •  t  '""^  °™' 
teachers   from    time    immemorial,    notably   R.    'Akibah  Ind   R 

poiaS in  t  svjf  "'r^K^"  °f  ^bis  additio'nal  matt!  nSor"^ 
E^hII  ,  T'^"^  ""^  ""^  '^■'"lonical  i/wA.mA.  is  called  Toscvhah 

n  lamaV'VW"  <""■  ^^^^'f"  ^'  '"""^  '"^^  correctly  ,^iiO 
already  ?i  the  Talt^^T""  f^^f'  T^  't  "'''^"'  P'"™'  "ecu 
?>,„  j7  ;  1  /."  "'.""fs  and  Mtdrashnn,"  Tosephlo  shans  with 
the  A^,s;„„A,  which  it  enlarges  and  explains,  the  number  of  order^ 
and  treatises,  but  not  that  of  chapter^,  of  vVhich  it  °  as  only  45^ 
Tie  odest  collection  of  Tosepht ic  matter  even  a^  fll  M^^:; 
collection  of  Mishuic  matter,  is' du%  to  R.  •Akiteh.     But,  wlfilsl 

,  «  In  the  synod  called  together  by  Rabbenu  Gershora,  amon-  several 

onetir"'  °  °""'  "'*'  "''  ^'^  ''  '^'°^"''  to  "'"■n-  more  tS! 

J  ^il'T'^ff"^  !"'-^^.'^""'  ''I'P«»«<»  »t  Paris  in  1868,  and  that 
ou  MakMth  at  Leipsic  in  1876,  both  in  Svo 

Rabbe''uTYvl"l  ^'"^tl'"''  ""\R»bbeuu  Meir  another  son-in-law  and 
Rabbenu  Yaakob  another  grandson  of  Rashi)  are  tho  Hrst  of  the  ac- 

the  urn  ::si::^.'  ^""^^  ""^-"^  ^-""-"  "o™ ''  ^h'  ea^;  "rcr 

tol^w'"'-''.';.  » \T,f  ?'?''>'  "^  ^'""'<'  Printed  under  his  name. 
172o,  4to),  is  really  his  is  still  matter  of  dispute 

?™fw  \^'y^""''  ^««A  O"  Ecclesiastcs  v.  8,  &c.    There  can  he  Uttlo 


M  I  S  H  N  A  H 


507 


tiic  Mishnah,  as  a  work,  waa  first  sifted  by  his  disciple  K.  Meir, 
Tostplito,  as  a  work,  was  first  sifted  by  another  disciple  E.  Ncheray  ah  ; 
and  just  as  E.  Meir's  Mishnah  was  sifted  again  by  Sabii  and  others 
after  him,  and  was  not  writtcu  down  before  the  6th  century,  so 
Tosephto  was  sifted  again  by  K.  Hiyya,  K.  Hosha'yah,  and  others, 
and  was  not  written  down  in  its'  entirety  before  the  6th  century. 
It  is  no  wonder,  then,  that  it  now  contains  matter  of  a  considerably 
later  age.  Tosephto  is  not  merely  of  great  help  for  understanding 
the  Mishnah,  which  is,  in  a  certain  sense,  incomplete  without  it, 
but  for  the  precise  and  e:5act  knowledge  of  Jewish  archaeology  and 
other  sciences,  and  in  its  Agadic  parts,  of  which  there  are  many,  for 
the  Creek  Scriptures  also.  Here  ought  "also  to  be  mentioned  Ahoth 
dt-Rabbi  Nathan,  which  is,  no  doubt,  Tosephto  to  the  Mishnah  of 
.Aboth.  Tosephto  used  to  bo  printed  till  within  the  last  forty  years  ' 
ias  an  appendix 'to  the  Miph,  i.e.,  the  Bilekhoth  Bab  Alphes  (a 
'tor.ipendium  of  the  Talmud  by  E.  Yitshak  b.  Ya'okob  Al-Phesi, 
or  jVl-Phasi,  i.e.,  of  Fez,  ob.  1103),  which  appeared  first  with  this 
apj.  :ndix  at  Venice,  1521-22,  folio.  Here,  however,  it  was  not 
cil.'.cd  critically  or  printed  with  even  ordinary  care.  But  in  the 
Vienna  edition  of  the  Babylonian  Talmud  (1860-72)  it  came  out, 
for  the  first  time,  worthily  after  a  iJS.  till  then  uncollated  which 
is  preserved  in  the  Court  Library.     Dr  Zuckermandel  has  since 

Eablished  it  from  the  Erfurt  and  Vienna  MSS.,  with  collations. °  A 
atin  translation  of  Tosephto  (with  the  Hebrew  te.xt)  is  to  be  found, 
under  the  name  of  To.mphia,  in  Blasins  Ugolinus's  Thesaurus 
Antiquilalum  Satrarum  (xvii.-xx.).  It  comprises,  however,  only 
the  orders  Zera'im,  Mo'cd,  and  Kodoshim,  and  came  out  at  Venice 
in  the  years  1755-57,  folio. 

The  second  of  these  pieces  of  literature  is  MekhiUo.  This  word 
is  tlie  Aramaic  equivalent  of  the  Hebrew  Middah  (measure),  and 
lience  signifies  mould,  foi-m,  i.e.,  of  Scriptural  exegesis,  notably  of 
part  or  parts  of  the  Pentateuch.  As  such  it  might,  of  course, 
stand  for  any  kind  of  commentary  on  any  book  of  the  Pentateuch, 
and  have  been  composed  by  any  one.  And  we  find,  indeed,  that 
MekhiUo  signified  at  one  time  a  commentary  on  the  hooks  Exodus, 
Leviticus,  Numbers,  and  Deuteronomy,  either  by  E.  Yishma'el  or  by 
R.  'Akibah,*  at  another  time  a  commentary  on  Exodus,  by  E. 
fShimc'on  b.  Yohai,*  and  at  another  time  again  a  commentary  on  the 
Last  four  books'  of  Moses,  by  (Shime'on)  Ben  'Azzai.'  MekhiUo 
now,  however,  means  a  commentary  on  the  greater  part  of  Exodus, 
ascribed  to  E.  Yishma'el  (flourished  in  the  1st  century) ;  although, 
in  reality,  this  teacher  cannot  have  been  the  author  of  the  book, 
seeing  that  his  name  is  more  than  seventy  times  mentioned  in  it. 
The  reason  why  the  ancients  called  the  book  by  his  name  is,  no 
doubt,  because  the  first  words  of  the  real  work  are  Amar  Rabbi 
yishma'el.  Like  the  other  works  of  the  "  oraWavr,"  MekhiUo  vfas 
not  written  down  before  the  6th  century,  a  fact  which  accounts 
also,  in  part  at  least,  for  the  loss  of  several  portions  of  this  com- 
mentary, which,  at  present,  only  extendsfrom  xii.  1  to  xxv.  3, 
with  several  gaps  between.  That  MekhiUo  was  once  fuller  than  it 
is  now  we  know,  not  only  from  a  statement  made  by  Maimonides 
and  others,  but  from  a  MS.  (Add.  394.  1,  in  the  University  Library 
of  Cambridge,  leaf  406),  where  an  extract  is  given  by  a  Franco- 
German  author  of  the  12th  or  13th  century.  The  Talmud  knows 
tho  namo  MekhiUo,  and  actually  quotes  Boraithoth  (non-canonical 
Mishniyyoth)  which  are  to  be  found  in  our  book  ;  and  yet  the 
existing  MekhiUo  can  scarcely  have  been  known  to  the  teachers  of 
tho  Talmud.  MekhiUo  is  by  some  called  Midrash  and  by  others 
Mishnah;  both  names  arc  in  a  certain  sense  correct.  It  is  Mid- 
rash  in  substance,  inasmuch  as  it  contains  exegesis,  and  in  form, 
inasmuch  as  it  is  subdivided  into  Parshiyyoth  and  follows  the  order 
of  tho  Scriptural  verses.  But  it  is  Mishnah  in  substance,  inas- 
much as  it  not  only  deals  with  the  groundwork  of  tho  Mishnah, 
but  consists  of  Boraiihoth  (non-canonical  Mishniyyoth),  and  in 
form,  inasmuch  as  it  is,  like  the  canonical  Mishnah,  divided  into 
Massekhloth.  These  latter  are  nine  in  number,  and  are  called  re- 
spectively (1)  Dephisha  (with  18  Parshiyyoth  and  1  Pcthihto  or 
introduction),  (2)  SeshaUah  (with  6  Parshiyyoth  and  1  Peihihto), 
(3)  Dcihirttha  (with  10  Parshiyyoth),  (4)  Vayyassa'  (with  6  Par- 
shiyyoth), {b)'Amakk  (with  2  Parshiyyoth),  (S)  Yithro  (with  2 
parshiyyoth),  (7)  Bahodesh  (with  11  Parshiyyoth),  (8)  NeziJcin  and 
Kaspo  (with  20  Parshiyyoth),  and  (9)  Shabbetho  (with  2  Par- 
s'tiyyoth — 1  in  the  pericope  A't  thissa  and  1  in  that  of  Vayyakhel). 
jVelchiUo  was  published  first  at  Constantinople  in  1516,  under 
the  name  of  Sephcr  HammclMilio,  and  in  1545  at  Venice  as  Mid- 
rash  HaminekhiUo.  In  1712  it  appeared  at  Amsterdam  with  a 
commentary.  In  1744  it  appeared  again  at  Venice  with  a  Latin 
translation  by  Blasius  Ugolinus  ( J'Acs.  Antiq.  <Sacr.,  xiv.).  In  1801 
it  appeared  at  Leghorn  with  a  difi'erent  commentary.     In  1844  it 

*  '  That  on  the  order  Zerdim  came  out  at  Vilna  in  1799,  4to ;  but 
tin  i^.s  entirety  it  came  only  out  between  1837,  1841,  and  1871,  folio. 

■  Issued  :.i  Pasewalk  and  Troves  from  1877  to  1882,  8vo. 

^  See  Maimonides's  preface  to  the  Mishneh  Torah. 

~  See  Nahmanides's  commentary  on  the  Pentateuch  (on  Gen.  xlix.  31). 

*  Sec  Tuhasin  Hasshatem  (ed.  FUipowski,  London  and  Edinburgh, 
•1857,  8vo),'p.  30,  col.  2. 


came  out  at  Vilna  with  a  new  commentary.  All  these  are  in  foliol 
The  best  and  cheapest  editions  with  commentaries  are  those  tj 
Weiss  (1865)  and  Friedmann  (1870),  both  printed  at  A'ienna,  and 
in  8vo.  .  I 

The  third  of  these  pieces  of  literature  is  Siphro.  Both  LeviticoA  Siparo.» 
itself,  because  it  is  the  most  difficult  of  all  Mosaic  books,  and 
the  oldest  Eabbinic  commentary  on  it,  because  it  is  the  most 
diOicuIt  of  all  commentaries  on  the  Scriptures,  have  been  from  tinie 
immemorial  known  under  tho  name  of  Siphro  {i.e.,  (Ae- Book).' 
This  book  and  this  comraentary  are  also  called  Torath  Kohanim, 
and  the  former  is  spoken  of  in  the  Talmud  already  as  Siphro 
dele  Jiab.^  This  latter  expression  has  led  many  great  men  (among 
others  Maimonides)^  to  ascribe  the  authorship  of  this  commentary 
to"Kab  (Abba  Arikho,  a  nephew  and  disciple  of  E.  Hiyya).  But 
such  a  view  is  erroneous  in  the  extreme,  as  the  booli  is,  so  far  as 
form  and  substance  go,  both  older  and  later  than  Rab,  paradoxical 
as  this  statement  may  appear.  It  is  older  in  its  origin  and  in 
its  matter,  for  not  merely  do  all  the  anon}'mous  Boraithoth  which 
are  to  be  found  in-  it  belong  to  E.  Yehudah  b.  Il'ai,  a  teacher 
of  the  1st  century,  but  one  of  the  sons  of  Rabbi  (of  the  2d 
century)  had  actually  taught  another  rabbi  two-thirds  of  a  third, 
i.e.,  two-ninths,  of  this  work.*  It  is  later  than  Eab,  for  in  it  are 
found  one  ^'authority"  and  several  "results"  of  much  later  date 
than  that  of  this  great  Babylonian  teacher.^'*  The  fact  is,. the  word 
Bab  in  the  phrase  Siphro  dcbe  Bab  is  not  a  proper  name  at  all, 
but  simply  stands  for  "teacher,"  and  debe  Bab  thus  signifies  "of 
a  school,"  a  term  used  for  any  teacher  and  any  school  of  any  time. 
Although  most  of  the  Boraithoth  which  it  contains  are  as  old.  ts 
the  1st  century,  this  book  as -such  cannot  have  been  written  down 
earlier  than  the  6th,  in  accordance  with  the  treatment,  in  this 
respect,  of  all  the  other  Halakhic  works  of  the  "  oral  law."  Siphro, 
although  it  bears  on  the  pericopes  and  verses  of  Leviticus,  and  is 
on  account  of  this  fact  by  many  called  a  Midrash,  is  in  reality 
Mishnah," — a  name  borne  out  hy  the  nature  of  its  contents,  which 
are  mostly  Mishnic,  and  sometimes  represent  actual  canonical 
Mishniyyoth.  Siphro  exhibits  a  curious  conglomeration  of  matter. 
It  opens  with  the  "Rules  of  the  Interpretation  of  Scripture," 
ascribed  to  E.  Yishma'el, — a  Boraitho  which,  although  important 
in  itself,  is  not  more  important  for  this  than  for  any  other  com- 
mentary on  the  Pentateuch.  And  this  conglomerate  nature  shows 
itself  even  more  strikingly  in  form ;  for  Siphro  contains  as  forms 
of  division  Dibburim,  MekhiUo,  Parshiyyoth  (some  of  which  mean 
pericopes,  whilst  others  mean  chapters),  Pcrakim,  and  Fiskoth. 
All  this  points,  of  course,  to  various  divisions  of  the  book  made  at 
various  times.  Whilst  none  of  these  divisions  can  be  later  than 
the  12th  century,"  the  earliest  is  at  least  as  old  as  the  2d,  and.belonga 
perhaps  to  the  1st."  Siphro  is  chiefly  of  importance  for  the  under- 
standing of  the  Mishimh  of  the  orders  Kodoshimmi  Tohoroth  (whidi 
were,  no  doubt,  the  earliest  Mishniyyoth  put  into  "order") ;  bnt, 
whilst  it  is  a  sure  help  for  the  Mishnah,  theMishnah  is  no  snre  help 
for  it :  Siphro  is  a  genuine  specimen  of  the  "oral  law,"  inasmuch 
as  it  cannot  be  mastered  without  a  teacher.  Owing  to  the  difficulty 
of  understanding  it,  Siphiro  has  not  been  often  studied,  and  conse- 
quently not  often  printed.  The  cditio  princeps  is  of  1545  ;  the 
second  edition  with  the  commentary  Korban  Aharon  is  of  1609-11, 
both  at  Venice.  The  third  edition  with  the  just-named  commen- 
tary is  of  1702,  and  came  out  at  Dessau.  The  fourth  edition,  with 
a  Latin  translation,  is  to  be  lound  in  Blasius  Ugolinus's  Thesaurus 
Antiquitatum  Sacrarum,  kc,  Venice,  1744  (vol.  xiv.). '  All  these 
are  in  folio.  The  fifth  edition,  with  the  commentary  'Azarath 
Kohanim  (vol.  i.),  appeared  at  Vilna,  1845,  4to.  The  sixth  edition, 
with  the  commentary  'Asirith  Bacphah,  appeared  at  Lemberg, 
1848,  folio.  The  seventh  edition,  with  the  commentary  Ealtorah 
Veham-Mitsvah,  appeared  at  Bucharest,  1860,  4to.  The  eighth 
edition,  with  the  commentary  of  E.  Abraham  b.  David  of  Pos- 
quieres,  4;c.,  appeared  at  Vienna,  1862  ;  and  the  ninth  edition, 
with  the  commentary  by  E.  Shimshon  of  Sens,  .appeared  at  War- 
saw, 1866,  both  in  folio.  .  .■  ,  '     - 

The  fourth  of  these  pieces  of  literature  is  Siphcre.     Siphere,  or  S.;)here.. 
Siphere  debe  Bab,  which  in   earlier  times  certainly  included  the 
oldest   Rabbinic  commentaries  on  Exodus,    Numbers,  and  Deu- 
teronomy (and  perhaps  also  that  on  Leviticus),  means  now  the 
oldest  Rabbinic  commentary  on  the  last  two  books  of  Moses  only. 


•  See  T.  B.,  Berakhoth,  ISb,  and  Eashi,  in  loeo.  The  Siphro  said 
here  to  have  been  studied  by  Benai.ah  tho  son  of  Jehoiada  may  well 
have  been  our  Leviticus,  though  of  course  it  canuot  have  been  the 
Siphro  with  which  we  are  here  concerned. 

'  Ibid. 

^  Preface  to  Mishneh  Torah. 

=  See  T.  B.,  Kiddushin,  33a. 

^^  See  the  pericope  Kedoshim,  vi. 

"  Its  original  founder  (R.  Yehudah  b.  Il'ai)  identifies  Mishnah  ;nd 
Midrash,  T.  B.,  Kiddushin,  49a. 

'=  They  were  known  to  R.  Ati.iham  b.  David  (Rabni^). 

"T.  B.,  Kiddushin,  3U. 


\ 


508 


M  I  S  -  M  I  S 


Both  books  are  divided  into  PtslMih  (paragraph';),  of  which  Siphere 
on  Numbers  has  161,  whilst  that  on  Deutoronoiny  has  a07.  The 
ancient  division  into  Boraithoth  cannot  now  be  accurately 
traced.  The  worl'.  commences  now  at  Numbers  v.  1,  aud  goes  to 
the  end  of  Deuteronomy.  The  passages  anonymously  given  in 
Siph-cre  are  ascribed  by  the  Babylonian  Talmud '  to  R.  Shime'on  b. 
Yohai,  the  favourite  disciple  of  R.  'Akibah,  and  the  reputed  author 
of  the  Zohar.  But  although  he  is  no  doubt  the  virtual  author  of 
Siphere,  seeing  that  most  Bomithoth  which  are  to  be  found  therein 
are  his,  he  cannot  be,  technically  speaking,  its  author.  For,  in  the 
first  place,  he  is  not  only  repeatedly  named  in  the  book,  but  several 
times  actually  contradicted  by  others  ;  and,  secondly,  there  are 
several  passages,  anonymously  given,  in  the  book,  which  can  only 
be  the  result  of  "Talmudic  "  study,  and  must  be  consequently  pos- 
terior to  the  composition  of  the  Talmud.  The  tact  is  that  Siphcrc, 
like  the  other  works  of  the  "oral  law,"  was  not  written  down 
before  the  6th  century.  It  ought  to  be  mentioned  here  that  the 
rabbis  of  the  11th,  12th,  and  13th  centuries,  and  even  somewhat 
later,  speak  also  of  another  Siphcrc  which  they  variously  designate 
as  Siphere  Panim  Sheni,  Siphere  shel  Paiiim  Shad,  Siphere  Bemid- 
bar  Sinai,  Siphere  ZtUta,  and  Siphere  simply.  To  judge  from  tire 
extracts  which  have  come  down  to  us,  that  work  must  not  only 
have  been  of  much  later  date,  but  also  of  far  less  value  than  the  work 
in  our  hands.  Siphere  appearM  for  the  first  time  in  1545,  and  with 
a'  Latin  translation  by  Blasius  Ugolinus,  in  his  TJiesaurus,  &c. 
(vol.  XV.),  in  1744,— both  at  Venice,  and  in  folio.  The  third 
edition  appeared  at  Hamburg  in  1789,  and  the  fourth  at  Sulzbach 
in  1802,  Doth  in  4to.  The  fifth  edition,  with  the  commentary  Zcra 
Abraham,  appeared  in  two  volumes,  of  which  the  first  was  printed  at 
Dyhernfurt  in  1811  and  the  second  at  RadaweU  in  1320,  both  in 
folio.  The  sixth  and  best  edition  is  that  of  Friedmann  (Vienna, 
1S64),  and  the  seventh  is  that  of  Lemherg,  1866,  both  in  8vo._ 
Bwaitho.  There  is  also  a  fifth  piece  of  Jlishnic  literature  known  specially 
Dy  the  name  Boraiiho.  Besides  the  Boraitholh  constituting 
Tosephto,  ^  Mekhilto,  Siphro,  aud  Siphere,  there  are  hundreds  of 
other  Boraitholh  to  be  found  scattered  about  in  both  Talmuds. 
These  are,  however,  mere  fragments  of  the  vast  Mishnayoth  (entire 
Mishnic  works")  composed  by  Bar  Kappara,  Rabbi  Hiyya,  and 
hundreds  of  other  teachers,  which  in  course  of  time  must  have 
perished.  There  is,  however,  enough  left  of  the  Mishnah,  canonical 
and  non-canonical,  to  prove  the  correctness  of  the  cabbalistic 
remark  that  MishncJi  is  the  equivalent  of  Neska-mah  (soul).  This 
is  no  mere  trifling  based  on  the  fact  that  the  two  words  (n3t;'0, 
nOB'3)  accidentally  consist  of  the  same  letters  ;  it  is  rather  an 
enunciation  of  an  intrinsic  truth  :  what  the  soul  {Neshamah)  is  to 
the  body,  the  Mishimh  is  to  lIos.aism.  Tha  soul  gives  life  to  the 
body,  and  the  Jlishnah  gives  life  to  the  Pentateuch.  For  the  letter 
kUleth,  but  the  spirit  giveth  life  !  (S.  M.  S.-S.) 

MISKOLCZ,  capital  of  the  Cis-Tisian  county  of  Borsoo, 
Hungary  (4S°  6'  N.  lat.,  20°  49'  E.  long.),  is  picturesquely 
situated  in  a  valley  watered  by  tlie  Szinva,  90  miles  north- 
east from  Budapest,  with  which,  as  also  with  Debreczen 
and  Kassa  (Kaschau),  it  is  directly  connected  by  railway. 
Miskolcz  is  one  of  the  most  thriving  provincial  towns  in 
the  kingdom,  and  has  many  fine  buildings,  including  Roman 
Catholic,  Greek  Catholic,  Lutheran,  and  Calvinist  churches 
and  schools,  a  Minorite  convent,  synagogue,  Hungarian 
theatre,  hospital,  royal  and  circuit  courts  of  law,  salt  and 
tax  office.?,  and  the  administrative  bureaus  for  the  county. 
There  are  manufactories  of  snuff,  porcelain,  boots  and  shoes, 
and  prepared  leather,  and  both  steam  aud  water  mills.  The 
trade  is  chiefly  in  grain,  wheaten  flour,  wine,  fruit,  cattle, 
hides,  honey,  wax,  and  the  agricultural  products  of  the 
neighbourhood.  The  great  fairs,  held  five  times  a  year, 
are  much  resorted  to  by  strangers  from  a  distance.  Not 
far  from  the  town  are  stone  quarries  and  iron  mines.  At 
the  end  of  1880  the  (civil)  population  amounted  to  24,343, 
of  whom  the  majority  were  Magj'ars  by  nationality. 

During  the  16th  and  17th  centuries  Jliskolcz  suffered  much  from 
the  desolating  hordes  of  Ottomans  who  then  ravaged  the  country, 
as  also  from  the  troops  of  various  Transylvanian  princes  and  leaders, 
especially  those  of  George  Rikdezy  and  Emcric  Tiikolyi.  In  1781, 
1843,  and  1847  it  was  devastated  by  fire,  and  on  the  30th  August 
1878  a  great  portion  of  the  town  was  laid  in  ruins  by  a  terrific  storm. 
Sec  HuNOARY,  vol  xii.  p.  374.) 

jnSREPRESENTATION.     See  Fraud. 


>  Sifnhedrin,  86a. 

'  Aocoitling  to  T.  B.,  Bagigah,  14a,  there  existed  at  on«  time  no 
loss  than  Bix  or  seven  hundred  MishnaJi  orders. 


illSSAL,^  the  book  containing  the  liturgj',  or  office  of 
the  mass,  of  the  Latin  Church.  This  name  (e.g.,  Missale 
Gothicum,  Francorum,  Gallicanum  Vetus)  began  to  super- 
sede the  older  word  Sacramentart/  (Sacramentarium,  Liber 
Sacramentorum)  from  about  the  middle  of  the  8th  century.' 
At  that  period  the  books  so  designated  contained  merely 
the  fixed  canon  of  the  mass  or  consecration  prayer 
(actionem,  precem  canonicam,  canonem  actionis),  and  the 
variable  collects,  secretae  cr  orationes  super  oblata,  prefaces, 
and  post-communions  for  each  fast,  vigil,  festival,  or  feria, 
of  the  ecclesiastical  year ;  for  a  due  celebration  of  the 
Eucharist  they  required  accordingly  to  be  supplemented  by 
other  books,  such  as  the  Antipkonarium,  afterwards  called 
the  Graduale,  containing  the  proper  antiphons  (iiltroits), 
responsories  (graduals),.  tracts,  sequences,  offertories,  com- 
munions, and  other  portions  of  the  communion  service 
designed  to  be  sung  by  the  schola  or  choir,  and  the  Lectioiv, 
arutm  {ox Epistolarium  3,XiA.Evangelisiarium)'with.  the  proper 
lessons.  Afterwards  missals  began  to  be  prepared  contain- 
ing more  or  less  fully  the  antiphons  and  lessons  as  well  as 
the  prayers  proper  to  the  various  days,  and  these  were  called 
missalia  plenaria.  All  modern  missals  are  of  this  last  de- 
scription. The  Missale  Eomanuni  ex  decreto  SS.  Concilii 
Tridenttni  restiiulum,  now  in  almost  exclusive  use  through- 
out all  the  churches  of  the  Latin  obedience,  owes  its  present 
form  to  the  council  of  Trent,  which  among  its  other  tasks 
undertook  the  preparation  of  a  correct  and  uniform  liturgy, 
and  entrusted  the  work  to  a  committee  of  its  members.  This 
committee  had  not  completed  its  labours  when  the  council 
rose,  but  the  pope  was  instructed  to  receive  its  report 
when  ready  and  to  act  upon  it.  The  "  reformed  missal ' 
accordingly  was  promulgated  by  Pius  V.  on  July  14,  1570, 
audits  universal  use  enjoined  on  all  branches  of  the  Catholic 
Church,  the  otJy  exceptions  allowed  being  in  the  case  of 
churches  having  local  and  independent  liturgies  which 
had  been  kept  in  unbroken  use  for  at  least  two  centuries.* 
It  has  subsequently  undergone  slight  revisions  under 
Clement  Vm.  (1604)  and  Urban  Vin.  (1634);  and  various 
new  masses,  both  obligatory  and  permissive,  universal  and 
local,  have  been  added  by  the  competent  authority. 
Although  the  Roman  is  very  much  larger  in  bulk  than  any 
other  liturg)',  it  need  hardly  be  explained  that  the  com- 
munion office  to  which  it  relates  is  not  in  itself  inordinately 
long.  By  much  the  greater  part  of  it  is  contained  in  the 
"ordinary"  and  "canon"  of  the  mass,  usually  placed 
about  the  middle  of  the  missal,  and  occupies,  though  in 
large  type,  only  a  few  pages  in  any  printed  copy.  The 
work  owes  its  bulk  and  complexity  to  two  circumstances. 
On  the  one  hand,  in- the  celebration  of  the  sacrifice  of  the 
mass  practically  nothing  is  left  to  the  impulse  or  discretion 
of  the  officiating  priest ;  everything — what  he  is  to  say, 
the  tone  and  gestures  with  which  he  is  to  say  it,  the  cut 
and  colour  of  the  robe  he  is  to  wear— is  carefully  prescribed 
either  in  the  general  rubrics  prefixed  to  the  text,  or  in  the 
running  rubrics  which  accompany  it.'  On  the  other  hand, 
the  Roman,  Uko  all  the  Western  liturgies,  is  distinguished 

,  '  Missalis  (sc,  liher),  MissaU,  from  Missa  ;  see  vol.  viii.  p.  652. 

•  The  English  missal  consequently  contiinicd  to  be  used  by  English 
Catholics  until  towards  the  end  of  the  17th  century,  when  it  was 
superseded  by  the  Roman  through  Jesuit  influence.  The  Galilean 
liturgy  held  its  gi-ound  until  much  more  recently,  but  has  now  suc- 
cumbed under  the  Ultramontanism  of  the  bishops. 

'  In  ftU  the  older  liturgies  the  comparative  absence  of  rubrics  is 
conspicuotis  oud  sometimes  perplexing.  It  is  very  noticeable  in  the 
Roman  Sacmmcntaries,  but  the  want  is  to  some  extent  supplied  by 
the  verj'  detailed  directions  for  a  high  pontifical  mass  in  the  v.arious 
texts  of  the  Ordo  Romanus  mentioned  below.  That  there  was  no 
absolutely  fixed  set  of  rubrics  in  use  in  France  during  the  8lh  century 
is  shown  by  the  fact  that  each  priest  was  required  to  \.Tite  out  an 
■iccount  of  his  own  practice  ("libcllum  onlinis")  and  present  it  fcr 
approbation  to  the  bishop  in  Lent  (see  Baluzc,  Cap.  Reg.  Franc.,  l. 
824.  quoted  in  Smith's  iiic(.  of  Chr.  Anliq.,  ii.  1521). 


MISSAL 


509 


from  those  oi  tlie  iiastern  Church  by  its  flezibility. 
Partly  by  conscious  effort,  no  doubt,  but  partly  also  by 
happy  accident,  a  -weU-marked  distinctive  character  has 
been  given  in  one  or  all  of  the  above-mentioned  respects 
to  the  office  for  each  ecclesiastical  season,  for  each  fast  or 
festival  of  the  year,  almost  for  each  day  of  the  week ;  and 
provision  has  also  been  made  of  a  suitable  communion  ser- 
vice for  many  of  the  special  and  extraordinary  occasions  both 
of  public  and  of  private  life.  This  richness  of  variety  is  seen 
not  only  in  the  collects  but  also  in  the  lessons  and  antiphonal 
parts  of  the  service,  passages  of  Scripture  in  the  selection  and 
collocation  of  which  an  exquisite  delicacy  of  religious  and 
aesthetic  instinct  has  been  for  the  most  part  strikingly  shown. 

The  different  parts  of  the  Roman  communion  office  are 
not  all  of  the  same  antiquity.  Its  essential  and  character- 
istic features  are  most  easily  caught,  and  their  rationale 
best  understood,  by  reference  to  the  earliest  Sacramentaries 
(particularly  the  Gregorian,  which  was  avowedly  the  basis 
of ,  the  labours  of  the  Tridentine  committee),  to  the 
Gregorian  Antiphonary,  and  to  the  oldest  redaction  of  the 
Ordo  Romarvus.^  The  account  of  the  mass  (qualiter  Missa 
Eomana  celebratur)  as  given  by  the  Sacramentarivm 
Gregorianum  is  to  th6  eflfect  that  there  is  in  the  first  place 
"  the  Introit  according  to  the  time,  whether  for  a  festival 
or  for  a  common  day ;  thereafter  Kyrie  Eleison.  (In 
addition  to  this  Gloria  in  Excehis  Deo  is  said  if  a  bishop 
jbe  [the  celebrant],  though  only  on  Sundays  and  festivals ; 
but  a  priest  is  by  no  means  to  say  it,  except  only  at 
tEastertide.  When  there  is  a  litany  (quando  letania  agitur) 
neither  Gloria  in  Excelsis  nor  Alleluia  is  sung.)  After- 
wards the  Orotic  is  said,  whereupon  follows  the  Apostol'iu, 
also  the  Gradual  and  Alleluia.  Afterwards  the  Gospel  is 
read.  Then  comes  the  Offertorium,^  and  the  Oralio  super 
•oblata  is  said."  Then  follow  the  Sursum  Corda,  the  Pre- 
face, Canon,  Lord's  Prayer  and  "embolism"  (efiPoKuTim 
or  insertion,  Libera  nos,  Domine),  given  at  full  length 
precisely  as  they  still  occur  in  the  Eoman  missal. 

In  every  liturgy  of  all  the  five  groups  a  passage  similar 
to  this  occurs,  beginning  with  Sursum  Corda,  followed 
by  a  Preface  and  the  recitation  of  the  Sanctus  or 
Angelic  Hymn.  The  "  canon "  or  consecration  prayer, 
which  in  all  of  them  comes  immediately  after,  invariably 
contains  our  Lord's  words  of  institution,  and  (except  in  the 
Nestorian  liturgy)  concludes  with  the  Lord's  Prayer  and 
"  embolism."  But  within  this  framework  there  are  certain 
differences  of  arrangement,  furnishing  marks  by  which  the 
various  groups  of  liturgies  can  be  classified  (see  vol.  xiv. 
p.  709  sq.).  Thus  it  is  distinctive  of  the  liturgy  of 
Jerusalem  that  the  "  great  intercession  "  for  the  quick  and 
the  dead  follows  the  words  of  institution  and  an  Epiklesis 
(citikXi^o'is  tov  TTvevfiaro^  dytov)  or  petition  for  the  descent 
of  the  Holy  Spirit  upon  the  gifts  ;  in  the  Alexandrian  the 
"  great  intercession  "  has  its  place  in  the  Preface ;  in  the 
East  Syrian  it  comes  between  the  words  of  restitution  and 
the  Epiklesis  ;  in  the  Ephesine  it  comes  before  the  Preface ; 
while  in  the  Roman  it  is  divided  into  two,  the  commemora- 
tion of  the  living  being  before,  and  that  of  the  dead  after, 
the  words  of  institution.  Other  distinctive  features  of  the 
Roman  liturgy  are  (1)  the  position  of  the  "  Pax  "  after  the 
consecration,  and  not  as  in  all  the,  other  liturgies  at  a  very 
early  stage  of  the  service,  before  the  Preface  even ;  and 
(2)  the  absence  of  the  Epiklesis  common  to  all  the  others.' 

*  For  the  genealogical  relationabipa  of  the  Roman  with  other 
liturgies,  the  reader  is  referred  to  the  article  Littjbot  (vol.  liv.  706 
sq. ),  where  some  account  is  also  given  of  the  three  Sacratiientaries. 
Tor  the  doctrines  involved  in  the  "sacrifice  of  the  mass,"  see 
Eucharist,  vol.  viii.  p.  650  sq. 
\  *  Some  editions  do  not  mention  the  Offertory  here. 
'  •  This  was  one  of  the  points  discussed  at  the  council  of  Florence, 
asid  Cardinal  Bessarlon  for  a  time  succeeded  in  peisuading  the  Greeks 
to  give  up  the  Epiklesis. 


The  words  of  its  "canonical  prayer"  are  of  unknown 
antiquity ;  they  are  found  in  the  extant  manuscripts  of  the 
Sacramcntarium  Gelasianum,  and  were  already  old  and  of 
forgotten  authorship  in  the  time  of  Gregory  the  Great,  who, 
in  a  letter  to  John,  bishop  of  Syracuse  {Pegislr.  Epist.,  vii. 
64),  speaks  of  it  as  "  the  prayer  composed  by  a  'scholastic' " 
(precem  quam  scholasticus  composuerat).  The  same 
letter  is  interesting  as  containing  Gregory's  defence,  on  the 
ground  of  ancient  use,  of  certain  parts  of  the  Roman  ritual 
to  which  the  bishop  of  Syracuse  had  taken  exception  as 
merely  borrowed  from  Constantinople.  Thus  we  learn 
that,  while  at  Constantinople  the  Kyrie  Eleison  was  said  by 
all  simultaneously,  it  was  the  Roman  custom  for  the  clergy 
to  repeat  the  words  first  and  for  the  people  to  respond, 
Christe  Eleison  being  also  repeated  an  equal  nuihber  of 
times.  .  Again,  the  Lord's  Prayer  was  said  immediately 
after  the  consecration  aloud  by  all  the  people  among  the 
Greeks,  but  at  Rome  by  the  priest  alone. 

The  somewhat  meagre  and  imperfect  liturgical  details 
furnished  by  the  Sacranientanum  Gregorianum  are  supple- 
mented in  a  very  full  and  interesting  manner  by  the  succes- 
sive texts  of  the  Ordo  Romanus,  the  first  of  which  dates 
from  about  the  year  730.  The  ritual  they  enjoin  is  that 
for  a  pontifical  high  mass  in  Rome  itself ;  but  the  differences 
to  be  observed  by  a  priest  "quando  in  statione  facit  missas" 
are  comparatively  slight.  Subjoined  is  a  precis  of  Ordo 
Romanus  I. 

It  is  first  of  all  explained  that  Rome  has  seven  ecclesiastical 
regions,  each  with  -its  proper  deacons,  subdeacons,  and  acolytes. 
Each  region  has  its  own  day  of  the  week  for  high  ecclesiastical 
functions,  which  are  celebrated  by  each  in  rotation.  [This  accoimts 
for  the  Statio  ad  S.  Maviam  Majorem,  ad  S.  Crucem  in  Jerusalem, 
ad  S.  Petrum,  &c.,  prefixed  to  most  of  the  masses  in  the  Oregorian 
Sacranuntary,  and  still  retained  in  the  "  Proprium  de  Tempore"  of 
the  Roman  missal.]-  The  regulations  for  the  assembmig  and 
marshalling  of  the  procession  by  which  the  pontiff  is  met  and  then 
escorted  to  the  appointed  station  are  minutely  given,  as  well  as  for 
the  adjustment  of  his  vestments  "  ut  bene  sedeant,''  when  the 
sacristy  has  been  reached.  He  does  not  leave  the  sacristy  until  the 
Introit  has  been  begun  by  the  choir  in  the  church.  Before  the 
Gloria  he  takes  his  stand  at  the  altar,  and  after  the  Kiji^  Eleison 
haa  been  sung  (the  number  of  times  is  left  to  his  discretion)  he 
begins  the  Gloria  in  Excelsis,  which  is  taken  up  by  the  choir.  Dur- 
ing the  singing  he  faces  eastward;  at  its  close  ne  turns  round  for  a 
moment  to  say  "  Pax  vobis,"  and  forthwith  proceeds  to  the  Oratio.* 
This  finished,  all  seat  themselves  in  order  while  the  subdeacon 
ascends  the  ambo  and  reads  [the  Epistle].  After  he  has  done,  the 
cantor  with  his  book  (cantatorio)  ascends  and  gives  out  the  response 
(Eesponsum)  with  the  Alleluia  and  Tractus  in  addition  if  the  season 
calls  for  either.  The  deacon  then  silently  kisses  the  feet  of  the 
pontiff  and  receives  his  blessing  in  the  words  "  Bominus  sit  in  corde 
tuo  et  in  labiis  tois."  Preceded  by  acolytes  with  lighted  candles 
and  subdeacons  burning  incense,  ho  ascends  the  ambo,  where  he  reads 
the  Gospel.  At  the  close,  with  tho  words  "Pax  tibi"  and 
' '  Domintis  vobiscum,"  the  pontiff,"  after  another  Oratio),  descends 
to  the  "  senatorium  "  accompanied  by  certain  of  the  inferior  clergy, 
and  receives  in  order  the  oblations  of  the  rulers  (oblationes  princi- 
pum),  the  archdeacon  who  follows  taking  their  "amulas."  of  wine 
and  pouring  them  into  a  larger  vessel ;  similar  offerings  are  received 
from  the  other  ranks  and  classes  present,  including  the  women. 
This  concluded,  the  pontiff  and  archdeacon  wash  their  bands,  the 
offerings  being  meanwhile  arranged  by  tho  subdeacons  on  the  altar, 
and  water,  supplied  by  the  leader  of  the  choir  (arehiparaphonista), 
being  mingled  with  the  wine.  During  this  ceremony  the  echola 
have  been  engaged  in  singing  the  Offertorium;  when  all  is  ready  the 
pontiff  signs  to  them  to  atop,  and  enters  upon  the  Preface,  the  sub- 
deacons giving  the  responses.  At  the  Angelic  Hymn  {Samtv.s)  all 
kneel  and  continue  kneeling,  except  the  pontiff,  .who  rises  alone 
and  begins  the  Ca^xm.  At  the  words  *'  per  quern  base  omnia  "  the 
archdeacon  lifts  the  cup  with  the  oblates,  and  at  ' '  Pax  Domini  sit 
semper  vobiscum  "  he  gives  the  peace  to  the  clergy  in  their  order, 
and  to  the  laity.  The  pontiff  then  breaks  off  a  particle  from  the 
censecrat^d  bread  and  lays  it  upon  the  altar;  the  rest  he  places  on 
the  paten  held  by  the  deacon.  It  is  then  distributed  while  Agntu 
Dei  is  sung.  The  pontiff  in  communicating  puts  the  particle  into 
the  cup,  saying.  "Fiat  commixtio  et  consecratio  corporis  et  sanguinis 
Domini  nostri  Jesu  Christi  accipientibus  nobis  in  vitam  setemam." 
Those  present  communicate  in  their  order  under  this  species  also. 


'  Quam  collectam  dicunt,  Ord.  Rom.  II. 
After  sia!»il:g  "Cvcilo  in  u-u-a  Dsum," 


Item,  11^ 


510 


As  the  pontilT  descends  into  the  senatoriura  to  give  the 
tlie  schola  begins  the  communion  Anlijihon,  and  contini'.js  singing 
the  Psalm  until,  all  the  people  having  coramnnicatcd,  they  receive 
the  sign  to  begin  the  Oloria,  after  which,  the  verse  ha\ing  been 
iigain  repeated,  tlicy  stop.  The  celebrant,  then,  lacing  eastward, 
otTei's  the  Oratio  ad  Cojnplcndum,  which  being  finished  the  arch- 
deacon says  to  the  people,  "  Ite,  missa  est,"  they  responding  with 
"  Deo  gi'atias." 

To  complete  our  idea  of  the  Roman  communion  office  as  it 
was  prior  to  the  end  of  the  8th  century  we  must  now  turn  to 
the  Gregorian  Antiphonarius  sive  Gradualis  Liber  ordinatus 
per  circulum  anni,  which  as  its  name  implies  contains  those 
variable  portions  of  the  mass  which  were  intended  to  be 
sung  by  the  schola  or  choir.  It  gives  for  each  day  for 
which  a  proper  mass  is  provided — (1)  the  Anfiphona  (Anti- 
phona  ad  Introitum)  and  Psalmus ;  (2)  the  Rtsponsorium 
and  Versus,  with  its  Alleluia  and  Versus ;  (3)  the 
Offertoriuni  and  Versus ;  (4)  the  Communio  and  Psalmus. 
Some  explanation  of  each  of  these  terms  is  necessary.  (1) 
The  word  Aniip/i^m  {avTL<l>o>vov,  Old  English  Antefn, 
English  Anthem)  in  its  ecclesiastical  use  has  reference 
to  the  very  ancient  practice  of  relieWng  the  voices  of  the 
singers  by  dividing  the  work  between  alternate  choirs.  In 
one  of  its  most  usual  meanings  it  has  the  special  significa- 
tion of  a  sentence  (usually  scriptural)  constantly  sung  by 
one  choir  between  the  verses  of  a  psalm  or  hymn  sung  by 
another.  According  to  the  Roman  liturgiologists  it  was 
Pope  Celestine  who  enjoined  that  the  Psalms  of  David 
should  be  sung  (in  rotation,  one  presumes)  antiphonally 
before  mass ;  in  process  of  time  the  antiphon  came  to  be 
sung  at  the  beginning  and  end  only,  and  the  psalm  itself 
was  reduced  to  a  single  verse.  In  the  days  of  Gregory 
the  Great  the  introit  appears  to  have  been  sung  precisely 
as  at  present, — that  is  to  say,  after  the  antiphon  (proper 
and  par  excellence),  the  Psalmus  with  its  Gloria,  then  the 
antiphon  again.  (2)  The  Responsorium,  like  the  Greek 
antiphon,  derives  its  name  from  the  responsive  manner  of 
singing.  As  introduced  between  the  epistle  and  gospel  it 
was  probably  at  first  a  comparatively  long  passage,  usually 
an  entire  psalm  or  canticle,  originally  given  out  by  the 
cantor  from  the  steps  from  which  the  epistle  had  been 
read  (hence  the  later  name  Graduale),  the  response  being 
taken  up  by  the  whole  choir.  (3)  The  Offertorium  and 
Communio  correspond  to  the  "hymn  from  the  book  of 
P.salms  "  mentioned  by  early  authorities  (see,  for  example, 
Augustine,  Eetr.,  ii.  11;  Ap.  Const.,  viii.  13)  as  sung 
ijefore  the  oblation  and  also  while  that  which  had  been 
offered  was  being  distributed  to  the  people.  A  very 
intimate  connexion  between  these  four  parts  of  the  choral 
service  can  generally  be  observed ;  thus,  taking  the  first 
Sunday  in  the  ecclesiastical  year,  we  find  both  in  the 
Antiphonary  and  in  the  modern  Missal  that  the  antiphon 
is  Ps.  XXV.  1-3,  the  psalmus  Ps.  xxv.  4,  the  responsorium 
(graduale)  and  versus  Ps.  xxv.  3  and  xxv.  4,  the  offertorium 
and  versus  Ps.  xxv.  1-3  and  Ps.  xxv.  5.  The  communio 
IS  Ps.  Ixxxv.  12,  one  of  the  verses  of  the  responsorium 
being  Ps.  Ixxxv.  7.  In  the  selection  of  the  introits  there 
are  also  traces  of  a  certain  rotation  of  the  psalms  in  the 
Psalter  having  been  observed. 

The  first  pages  of  the  modern  Roman  missal  are  occupied 
with  the  Calendar  and  a  variety  of  explanations  relating 
to  the  year  and  its  parts,  and  the  manner  of  determin- 
ing the  movable  feasts.  The  general  rubrics  {Rubricie 
Getierales  ^fissalis)  follow,  explaining  what  are  the  various 
kinds  of  mass  which  may  be  celebrated,  prescribing  the 
hours  of  celebration,  the  kind  and  colour  of  vestments  to 
be  used,  and  the  ritual  to  be  followed  (ritus  celebrandi 
missaui),  and  giving  directions  as  to  what  is  to  be  done  in 
case  of  various  defects  or  imperfections  which  may  arise. 
The  I'ra-paralio  ad  ilismm,  which  comes  next,  is  a  .short 

uanual  of  devotion  containing  ps&Ims,  hymns,  and  prayers 


MISSAL 


to  be  used  as  opportunity  may  occur  before  and  after 
celebration.  Next  comes  the  proper  of  the  season 
(Proprium  Miesarum  de  Tempore),  occupying  more  than 
half  of  the  entire  volume.  It  contains  the  proper  introit, 
collect  (one  or  more),  epistle,  gradual  (tract  or  sequence), 
go.=pel,  offertory,  secreta  (one  or  more),  communion,  and 
post-communion  for  every  Sunday  of  the  year,  and  also 
for  the  festivals  and  ferias  connected  with  the  ecclesiastical 
seasons,  as  well  as  the  offices  peculiar  to  the  ember  days, 
Holy  Week,  Easter,  and  Whitsuntide.  Between  the  office 
for  Holy  Saturday  and  that  for  Easter  Sunday  the  ordinarj- 
of  the  mass  (Ordo  Misss),  with  the  solemn  and  proper  pre- 
faces for  the  year,  and  the  canon  of  the  mass  are  inserted. 
The  proper  of  the  season  is  followed  by  the  proper  of  the 
saints  {Proprium  Sanctorum),  containing  what  is  special 
to  each  saint's  day  in  the  order  of  the  calendar,  and  by  the 
Commune  Sanctorum,  containing  such  offices  as  the  com- 
mon of  one  martyr  and  bishop,  the  common  of  one  martyr 
not  a  bishop,  the  common  of  many  martyrs  in  paschal  time, 
the  common  of  many  martyrs  out  of  paschal  time,  and  the 
like.  A  variety  of  masses  to  be  used  at  the  feast  of  the 
dedication  of  a  church,  of  masses  for  the  dead,  and  of  votive 
masses  (as  for  thesick, forpersons journeying,  for  bridegroom 
and  bride)  follow,  and  also  certain  benedictions.  Most 
missals  have  an  appendix  also  containing  certain  local 
masses  of  saints  to  be  celebrated  "-ex  indulto  apostolico." 

Masses  fall  into  two  great  subdivisions  : — (1)  ordinary  or 
regular  (secundum  ordinem  officii),  celebrated  according 
to  the  regular  rotation  of  fast  and  feast,  vigil  and  feria,  in 
the  calendar  ;  (2)  extraordinary  or  occasional  (extra  ordinem 
officii),  being  either  "  votive  "  or  "  for  the  dead,"  and  from 
the  nature  of  the  case  having  no  definite  time  prescribed 
for  them.  Festival  masses  are  either  double,  half-double, 
or  simple,  an  ordinary  Sunday  mass  being  a  half-double. 
The  difference  depends  on  the  number  of  collects  and 
secretie  ;  on  a  double  only  one  of  each  is  offered,  on  a  half  ■ 
double  there  are  two  or  three,  and  on  a  simple  there  may 
be  as  many  as  five,  or  even  seven,  of  each.  Any  mass 
may  be  eitlier  high  (missa  solennis)  or  low  (missa  privata). 
The  distinction  depends  upon  the  number  of  officiating 
clergy,  certain  differences  of  practice  as  to  what  is  pro- 
nounced aloud  and  what  inaudibly,  the  use  or  absence  of 
incense,  certain  gestures,  and  the  like.  Solitary  masses 
are  forbidden ;  there  must  be  at  least  an  acolyte  to  give 
the  responses.  The  vestments  prescribed  for  the  priest  are 
the  amice,  alb,  cingulum  or  girdle,  maniplg,  stole,  and 
chasuble  (planeta) ;  see  Costume,  vol.  vi.  p.  462.  There 
are  certain  distinctions  of  course  for  a  bishop  or  abbot.  The 
colour  of  the  vestments  and  of  the  drapery  of  the  altar  varies 
according  to  the  day,  being  either  white,  red,  green,  violet, 
or  black.  This  last  custom  does  not  go  much  further  back 
than  Innocent  III.,  who  explains  the  symbolism  intended. 

Subjoined  is  an  account  of  the  manner  of  celebrating 
high  mass  according  to  the  rite  at  present  in  force. 

1.  The  priest  who  is  to  celebrate,  having  previously  confessed  (if 
necessary)  and  having  finished  matins  and  lauds,  is  to  seek  leisure 
for  private  prayer  (fasting)  and  to  use  as  he  has  opportunity  the 
"  pr.ayers  before  mass"  already  referred  to.  How  the  robing  in  the 
sacristy  is  next  to  be  gone  about  is  roiinitely  prescribed,  and  prayers 
are  given  to  bo  used  as  each  article  is  put  on.  The  sacramental 
clcmentshavine  previously  been  placed  on  the  altar  or  on  a  credence 
table,  the  celebrant  enters  the  cnurch  and  takes  his  stand  before 
the  lowest  step  of  the  altar,  having  the  deacon  on  his  right  and  the 
sulidcacon  on  his  left.  After  invoking  the  Trinity  (In  nomine 
I'atris,  ic. )  he  repeats  alternately  with  those  who  are  withliim  the 
psalm  "  Judica  me,  Deus,"  which  is  preceded  in  the  usual  way  by  an 
antiphon  (Introibo  ad  altarc  Dei),  and  followed  also  by  the  Gloria 
and   Antiphon.'     The  vcrsicle    "Adjutorium  nostrum,"  with  its 


•  This  antiphon  is  not  to  bo  confounded  with  the  Antip^ona  ad 
Introitum  further  on.  Tliis  use  of  the  <3d  Psalm  goes  as  far  back  at 
least  as  the  end  of  the  llth  centurj-.  being  mentioned  by  Micrologus 
(lOSO).    'It  is  omitted  in  masses  for  the  dead  and  during  Holy  Week. 


M  1  S  —  M  I  S 


511 


response  "Qui  feoit,"  is  followed  by  the  "Confitcor,"'  said  alter- 
natoly  by  the  priest  and  by  the  attendants,  who  in  turn  respond  with 
the  prayer  for  divine  forgiveness,  "Misereatur."  The  priest  then 
gives  the  absolution  ("  Indulgentiam  "),  and  after  the  versicles  and 
responses  beginning  "•Deus,  tu  conversus"  he  audibly  says, 
"Oremus,"  and  ascending  to  the  altar  silently  offers  two  short 
prayers,  one  asking  for  forgiveness' and  liberty  of  access  through 
Christ,  and  another  indulgence  for  himself  "  through  the  merits  of 
thy  saints  whoso  relics  are  here."  Receiving  the  thurible  from  the 
deacon  ho  incenses  the  altar,  and  is  thereafter  himself  incensed  by 
the  deacon.  He  then  reads  the  lutroit,  which  is  also  sung  by  the 
choir;  the  "  Kyrie  Eleison"  is  then  said,  after  which  the  words 
"  Gloria  in  Excelsis  "  ^  are  sung  by  the  celebrant  and  the  rest  of  the 
hymn  completed  by  the  choir. 

2.  Kissing  the  nltir,  and  turning  to  the  people  with  the  formula 
"  Dominus  vobiscum,"  the  celebrant  proceeds  with  the  collect  or  col- 
lects proper  to  the  season  or  day,  which  are  read  secretly.  The 
epistle  for  the  day  is  then  read  by  the  subdeacon,  and  is  followed 
by  the  gradual,  tract,  alleluia,  or  sequence,  according  to  the  time.* 
This  finished,  the  deacon  places  the  book  of  the  gospels  on  the 
altar,  and  the  celebrant  blesses  the  incense.  The  deacon  kneels 
before  the  altar  and  offers  the  prayer  "Munda  cor  meum,*'  after- 
wards takes  the  book  from  the  altar,  and  kneeling  before  the 
celebrant  asks  his  blessing,  which  he  receives  with  the  words 
"  Dominus  sit  in  corde  tuo."  Having  kissed.the  hand  of  the  priest, 
he  goes  accompanied  by  acolytes  with  incense  and  lighted  candles 
to  tne  pulpit,  and  with  a  "  Dominus  vobiscum  "  and  minutely  pre- 


gehca  dicta  deleautur  nostra  delicta. "     The  celebrant  then  standing 
at  the  middle  of  the  altar  sings  the  words  "  Credo  in  unum  Deum, 
and  the  rest  of  the  Nicene  creed  is  sung  by  the  choir.  * 

3.  With  "Dominus  vobiscum"  and  "Oremus"  the  celebrant 
proceeds  to  read  the  Ofifertory,  whicli  is  also  sung  by  the  choir. 
This  finished  he  receives  the  paten  with  the  host  from  the  deacon, 
and  after  offering  the  host  mth  the  prayer  beginning  "  Suscipe,' 
Sancte  Pater"  places  it  upon  the  corporal.  The  deacon  then 
ministers  wine  and  the  s\ibdeacon  water,  and  before  the  celebrant 
mixes  the  water  with  the  wine  he  blesses  it  in  the  prayer  "  Deus 
qui  humanai."  He  then  takes  the  chalice,  and  having  offered  it 
("  Offerimus  tibi.  Domino  ")  places  it  upon  the  corporal  and  covers 
It  with  the  pall.  Slightly  bowing  over  the  altar,  he  then  offers  the 
prayer  "lu  spiritu  humilitatis,"  and,  lifting  up  his  eyes  and 
stretching  out  his  hands,  proceeds  with  "  Veni  sanctiBcator." 
After  blessing  the  mcenso  ("Per  intercessionem  bcati  Michaelis 
rirchangeh  )  lie  takes  the  thurible  from  the  deacon  and  incenses  the 
bread  and  wine  and  altar,  and  is  afterwards  himself  incensed  as  well 
as  the  others  lu  their  order.  Next  going  to  the  epistle  side  of  the 
altar  he  washes  his  fingers  as  he  recites  the  verses  of  the  26th  Psalm 
beginning  "  Lavabo."  Returning  and  bowing  before  the  middle  of 
the  altar,  with  joined  hands  he  says,  "Suscipe,  sancta  Trinitas,"  then 
turning  himself  towards  the  people  he  raises  his  voice  a  little  and 
says,  "Orate  fratres"  ("that  my  sacrifice  and  yours  may  be 
acceptable  to  God  the  Father  Almighty"),  the  response  to  which 
13  buscipiat  Dominus  sacrificiuin  de  manibus  tiiis,"  to 
He  then  recites  the  secret  prayer  or  prayers,  and  at  the  end 
.says  with  an  audible  voice,  "  Per  omnia  ssecula  swculorum " 
{£.  "Amen  ). 

i.  Again  saluting  with  a  "  Dominus  vobiscum,"  he  lifts  up  his 
hands  and  goes  on  to  the  "  Sui-sum  Corda  "  and  the  rest  of  the  Pre- 
face     A  different  intonation  is  given  for  each  of  the  prefaces. »    At  I 
the  Sauctus  the  handbell  is  rung.     If  there  is  a  choir  the  Sanctus  j 
13  snug  while  the  celebrant  goes  on  with  the  Canon."    After  the  , 
words  of  consecration  of  the  wafer,  which  are  said  "secretly   dis-  i 
tinctly,  and  attentively,"   the   celebrant   kneels  and  adores   the 
host,  using  elevates  it,  and  replacing  it  on   the  corporal   again  ' 

'  •*■  form  very  similar  to  the  present  is  given  by  Jlicrolomis,  and  it  ' 
IS  foreshadowed  even  in  liturgical  hterature  of  the  8th  century.  ■ 

-  During  Lent  ,iud  Advent,  and  in  masses  for  the  de,id    this  is  I 
omitted.     lu  low  masses  it  is  of  course  said,  not  sung  (if  it  'is  to  be 
said).     It  may  bo  added  that  this  early  position   of  the  Gloria  in  I 
Ktcelm  18  one  of  the  features  distinguishing  Roman  from  Ephesine  ' 
use.  *^  [ 

'  The  tract  is  peculiar  to  certain  occasions,  especially  of  a  raouniful 
nature,  and  is  sung  by  a  single  voice.  By  a  sequence  is  understood  a 
more  or  less  metrical  composition,  not  in  the  words  of  Scripture,  havin" 
a  specal  bearing  on  the  festival  of  the  day.  See,  for  example,  thl 
sequence,      L.iuda  Sion  Salvatorem,"  on  Corpus  Christi  day. 

•*  Ou  certain  days  the  Credo  is  omitted. 
•»  Now  eleven  ;  they  were  at  one  time  much  more  numerous. 

The  approved  usagu  appears  to  be  in  that  case  that  it  is  sun"  as 
far  as  Hosanna  m  Excelsis  "  before  the  elevat.on,  and  "  Benedictus 
qui  venit  18  reserved  till  afterwards.  In  France  it  was  a  very  com- 
mon cuatom,  made  general  for  a  time  at  the  request  of  Louis  XII.,  to 
"iiw  •■  o  salutans  hostia     at  the  elevation. 


adores  it  (th«  bell  meanwhile  being  rung).'  The  same  rite  is 
observed  when  the  chalice  is  consecrated.  Immediately  before  the 
Lord  a  Prayer,  at  the  words  "  per  ipsum  ct  cum  ipso  et  in  ipso," 
the  sign  of  the  cross  is  made  threo  times  over  the  chalice  with  the 
host,  and  towards  the  close  of  the  "  embolism  "  the  fraction  of  the 
host  takes  place.  After  the  words  ■  ■  Pax  Donijni  sit  semper  vobis- 
cum the  emission  of  the  particle  into  the  cup  takes  place  with 
the  words  Hieo  commixtio  et  consccratio, "  ic.  The  celebrant 
then  says  the  Agnus  Dei  three  times. 

5  While  tho  choir  sings  the  Agnus  Dei  and  the  Communion,  the 
celebrant  proceeds,  still  "secrete,^'  with  the  remainder  of  the  office 
which  though  printed  as  part  of  the  canon  is  more  conveniently 
caUed  the  Communion  and  Post-cdmiaunion.  After  the  praver  for 
the  peace  and  unity  of  the  church  ("Domine  Jesu  Christc  qui 
dixisti  I )  he  salutes  the  deacon  with  the  kiss  of  peace,  saying,  "  Pax 
tecum  "  ;  the  subdeacon  is  saluted  in  like  manner,  and  then°conveys 
the  "  pax  "  to  the  rest  of  the  clergy  who  may  be  assisting.  The  cele- 
brant then  communicates  under  both  species  with  suitable  prayers 
and  actions,  and  afterwards  administers  the  sacrament  to  the  other 
communicants  if  there  be  any.  Then  while  the  wine  is  poured  into 
the  cup  for  tho  first  ablution  he  says,  "Quod  ore  sumpsimus"; 
having  taken  it  he  says,  ' '  Corpus  tunm,  Domine. "  After  the  second 
ablutionhcgoesto  the  book  and  reads  the  Communion.  Then  turn- 
ing to  the  people  with  "  Dominus  vobiscum"  he  reads  the  Post- 
communion  (one  or  more);  turnin^once  more  to  the  congregation  he 
uses  the  old  dismissal  formula  "Dominus  vobiscum  "  {Ji.  Et  cum 
spiritu  tuo),  and  "Ite,  uiissa  est"  [or  "Benedicamus  Domino,"  in 
those  masses  from  which  "Gloria  in  Excelsis"  has  been  omitted] 
(R.  Deo  Gratias).  Bowing  down  before  the  altar  he  offers  the  prayer 
''Placeat  tibi,  sancta  Trinitas,"  then  turning  round  he  makes  the 
sign  of  the  cross  over  the  congregation  with  the  words  of  the 
benediction  ("  Benedicat ").'  He  then  reads  the  passage  from  the 
gospel  of  John  beginning  with  "  In  principio  erat  Vcrbum,"  or 
else  the  proper  gospel  of  the  day."  (j.  s.  BL  ) 

MISSIONS.  The  history  of  Christian  missions  may, 
for  practical  purposes,  be  best  divided  into  three  chief 
periods— (1)  the  primitive,  (2)  the  mediiEval,  and  (3) 
the  modern.  None  of  these  periods  can  be  neglected,  for 
they  have  an  intimate  connexion  with  each  other,  and 
illustrate  the  activity  respectively  of  individuals,  of  the 
church  in  her  corporate  capacity,  and  of  societies. 

1.  T/ie  Primitive  Period. 

Christian  missions  had  their  origin  in  the  example  and 
the  command  of  our  Lord  Himself  (ilatt.  xxviii.  1 9) ;  and 
the  unparalleled  boldness  on  the  part  of  the  Founder  of 
Christianity,  which  dared  to  anticipate  for  the  Christian 
faith  a  succession  of  efforts  which  should  never  cease  to 
cause  its  propagation  to  be  undertaken  as  "a  distinct 
and  direct  work,"  has  been  justified  by  the  voice  of  history. i^' 
'Whereas  other  religions  have  spread  from  country  to 
country  as  component  parts  of  popular  opinion,  have 
travelled  with  migration  or  conquest,  have  passed  in  the 
train  of  things  and  by  the  usual  channels  of  communica- 
tion, the  first  foundations  of  the  church  had  hardly  been 
laid  before  individual  missionary  activity  marked  the  life 
of  each  one  of  the  circle  of  the  apostles. 

Of  the  actual  details  of  their  labours  we  have  been  per- 
mitted to  know  but  little.  Three  only  of  the  immediate 
followers  of  the  Saviour  have  any  conspicuous  place  in  the 
apostolic  records,  and  the  most  illustrious  in  the  whole 
domain  of  missionary  activity,  St  Paul,  did  not  belong 
to  the  original  twelve.  His  activity  took  the  form  of 
journeys  and  voyages,  chiefly  to  large  towns,  where  his 
message  found  a  point  of  contact  either  with  the  Jewish 
synagogue  or  the  aspirations  of  the  Gentile  world.  The 
result   of    his   labours   and    of   those   of    his   successors 

'  The  history  of  the  practice  of  elevating  the  host  is  somewhat 
obscure.  It  seems  to  have  arisen  out  of  the  custom  of  holding  up  the 
oblations,  as  mentioned  in  the  Onlo  Romanus  (see  above).  The 
elevation  of  the  host,  as  at  present  practised,  was  first  enjoined  by 
Pope  Honorius  III.  The  use  of  the  handbell  at  the  elevation  is  still 
later,  and  was  first  made  geueral  by  Gregory  XI. 

'  The  benediction  is  omitted  in  masses  for  the  dead. 

^  The  reading  of  the  passage  from  John  on  days  which  had  not  ft 
proper  gospel  was  first  enjoined  by  Pius  V. 

"  Davison,  On  Profhay,  p.  278. 


512 


M  I  S  S  I  O  N  ;S 


was  that  towards  the  middle  of  the  2d  century  the 
church  had  gradually  extended  its  conquests  through  Asia 
Minor,  Greece,  Italy,  southern  Gaul,  and  northern  Africa.^ 
Ecclesiastical  history  can  tell  but  little  of  the  church's 
earliest  teachers,  and  the  infancy  of  many  of  the  primitive 
congregations  is  -nTapped  in  hopeless  darkness.  Whatever 
v/as  effected  was  due  to  the  evangelizing  labours  of 
individual  bishops  and  clergy,  who  occupied  themselves  "in 
season  and  out  of  season,"  and  toiled  zealously  and 
effectively  in  the  spread  of  the  church,  though  leaving  no 
record  of  their  devotion.  Amongst  the  most  distinguished 
representatives  of  this  individual  activity  in  the  4th  and 
5th  centuries  may  be  mentioned  Ulfila,  the  "  apostle  of 
the  Goths,"  about  325;  Frumentius,  a  bishop  of  Abyssinia, 
about  327  ;  Chrysostom,  who  founded  at  Constantinople 
in  iOi  A.D.  an  institution  in  which  Goths  might  be  trained 
to  preach  the  gospel  to  their  own  people ;-  Valentinus,  the 
"apostle  of  Noricum,"  about  4i0;  and  Honoratus,  who  from 
his  monastic  home  in  the  islet  of  Lerins,  about  410,  sent 
forth  numerous  labourers  to  southern  and  western  Gaul, 
to  become  the  leading  missionaries  of  their  day  among 
the  masses  of  heathendom  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Aries, 
Lyons,  Troyes,  Metz,  and  Nice. 

2.  The  Medixval  Period. 

With  the  5th  -century  the  church  found  a  very  different 
element  proposed  to  her  missionary  energies  and  zeal. 
Her  outposts  of  civilization  had  scarcely  been  planted  when 
she  was  confronted  with  numberless  hordes  which  had  long 
been  gathering  afar  off  in  their  native  wilds,  and  which 
were  now  precipitated  over  the  entire  face  of  Europe. 
Having  for  some  time  ceased  to  plead  for  toleration,  and 
learnt  to  be  aggressive,  she  not  only  stood  the  shock  of 
change  but  girded  herself  for  the  difficult  work  of  calming 
the  agitated  elements  of  society,  of  teaching  the  nations  a 
higher  faith  thr.n  a  savage  form  of  nature  worship,  of 
purifying  and  rri'ining  their  recklessness,  independence, 
and  uncontrollable  love  of  liberty,  and  fitting  them  to 
become  members  of  an  enlightened  Christendom. 

(a)  The  Celtic  Missionaries. — The  fii'st  pioneers  who  went 
forth  to  engage  in  this  diificult  enterprise  came  from  the 
secluded  Celtic  churches  of  Ireland  and  the  Scottish 
Highlands,  which,  though  almost  forgotten  amidst  the 
desolating  contest  which  was  breaking  up  the  Roman  world, 
.were  no  sooner  founded  than,  they  sent  forth  "armies  of 
Scots "  to  pour  back  upon  the  Continent  the  gifts  of 
civilization  and  the  gospel.  Of  many  who  deserve 
mention  in  connexion  with  this  period,  the  most  prominent 
were — Columba,  the  founder  of  the  famous  monastery  of 
lona,  and  the  evangelizer  of  the  Albanian  Scots  and 
northern  Picts ;  Aidan,-  the  apostle  of  Northumbria ; 
Columbanus,  the  apostle  of  the  Burgundians  of  the  Vosges  ; 
Callich  or  Gallus,  the  evangelizer  of  north-eastern  Switzer- 
land and  Alcmannia ;  Kilian,  the  apostle  of  Thuringia ; 
and  Trudpert,  the  martyr  of  the  Black  Forest.  The 
zeal  of  these  singular  men  at  the  head  of  ardent  disciples 
seemed  to  take  the  world  by  storm.  Travelling  generally 
in  companies,  and  carrying  a  simple  outfit,  these  Celtic 
pioneers  flung  themselves  on  the  Continent  of  Europe,  and, 
not  content  with  rejiroducing  at  Annegray  or  Luxeuil  the 
willow  or  brushwood  huts,  the  chapel  and  the  round  tower, 
which  they  had  left  behind  in  Derry  or  in  the  island  of  Hy, 
they  braved  the  dangers  of  the  northern  seas,  and  pene- 
trated as  far  as  the  Faroes  and  even  far  distant- Iceland.' 

(6)  The  English  Missionaries. — Thus  they  laid  the 
foundations,  awing  the  heathen  tribes  by  their  indomitable 
spirit  of  self-.sacrifice  and  the  sternnes.s  of  their  rule  of  life. 

•Justin,  Dint.  c.  117;  TertuU.,  Apot.,  37;  Id.,  Adv.  Jtid.,  7. 

=> Theodoret,  /I.E.,  v.  30. 

'  Seo  A.  \V.  lladJ.iii,  "  Scota  on  the  CouUuont,"  Remaint,  p.  256. 


But,  marvellous  as  it  was,  their  work  lacked  the  element 
of  permanence ;  and  it  became  clear  that  if  Europe  wa5.-6) 
be  carried  through  the  dissolution  of  the  old  society,  and 
missionary  operations  consolidated,  a  more  practical  system 
must  be  devised  and  carried  out.  The  men  for  this  work 
were  now  ready.  Restored  to  the  commonwealth  of  nations 
by  the  labours  of  the  followers  of  Augustine  of  Canterbury 
and  the  Celtic  missionaries  from  lona,  the  sons  of  the 
newly  evangelized  English  churches  were  ready  to  go  forth 
to  the  help  of  their  Teutonic  brothers  in  the  German 
forests.  The  energy  which  warriors  were  accustomed  to 
put  forth  in  their  efforts  to  conquer  was  now  "  exhibited  in 
the  enterprise  of  conversion  and  teaching  "  *  by  Wilfrid  on 
the  coast  of  Friesland,^  by  Willibrord  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  Utrecht,''  by  the  maitjT-brothers  Ewald  or  Hewald 
amongst  the  "  old  "  or  continental  Saxons,^  by  Swidbert 
the  apostle  of  the  tribes  between  the  Ems  and  the  Yssel,i 
by  Adelbert,  a  prince  of  the  royal  house  of  Northumbria, 
in  the  regions  north  of  Holland,  by  Wursing,  a  native  of 
Friesland,  and  one  of  the  disciples  of  Willibrord,  in  the 
same  region,  .and  last,  not  least,  by  the  famous  Wir'jfrid 
or  Boniface, -the  "apostle  of  Germany,"  who  went  forth 
first  to  assist  WiUibrord  at  Utrecht,  then  to  labour  iR 
Thuringia  and  Upper  Hessia,  then,  with  the  aid  of  his 
kinsmen  Wunibald  and  Willibald,  their  sister  Walpurga, 
and  her  thirty  companions,  to  consolidate  the  -work  of 
earKer  missionaries,  and  finally  to  die  a  martyr  on  the 
shore  of  the  Zuyder  Zee. 

(c)  Scandinavian  2IissioHS. — Devoted,  however,  as  ware 
the  labours  of  Boniface  and  his  disciples,  the  battle  was 
not  yet  nearly  won.  .All  that  he  and  they  and  the  emperor, 
Charlemagne  after  them  achieved  for  the  fierce  untutored 
world  of  the  8th  century  seemed  to  have  been  done  in  vain 
when,  in  the  9th,  "on  the  north  and  north-west  the 
pagan  Scandinavians  were  hanging  about  every  coast,  and 
pouring  in  at  every  inlet;  when  on  the  east  the  pagan 
Hungarians  were  swarming  like  locusts  and  devastating 
Europe  from  the  Baltic  to  the  Alps ;  when  on  the  south 
and  south-east  the  Saracens  were  pressing  on  and  on  \vith 
their  victorious  hosts.  It  seemed  then  as  if  every  pore  of 
life  were  choked,  and  Christendom  must  be  stifled  and 
smothered  in  the  fatal  embrace."*  But  it  was  even  now 
that  one  of  the  most  intrepid  of  missionary  enterprises 
was  undertaken,  and  the  devoted  Anskar  went  forth  and 
proved  himself  a  true  apostle  of  Denmark  and  Sweden,' 
sought  out  the  Scandinavian  viking  in  his  native  home  and 
icy  fiords,  and,  after  persevering  in  the  face  of  apparently 
insurmountable  difficulties  and  hardships,  handed  on  the 
torch  of  self-denying  zeal  to  others,  who  "casting  their 
bread  on  the  waters  "  saw,  after  the  lapse  of  many  years,' 
the  close  of  the  monotonous  tale  of  burning  churches  and 
pillaged  monasteries,  and  taught  the  fierce  Northman  to 
lay  aside  his  old  habits  of  piracy,  and  gi-adually  learn 
respect  for  civilized  institutions. 

(d)  Slavonic  Missions. — Thuo  the  "  gospel  of  the 
kingdom  "  was  successively  proclaimed  to  the  Roman,  tlie 
Celtic,  the  Teutonic,  and  the  Scandinavian  world.  A 
contest  .still  more  stubborn  remained  with  the  Slavonic 
tribes,  wth  their  triple  and  many-headed  divinities,  their 
.powers  of  good  and  powers  of  evil,  who  could  be  approached 
only  with  fear  and  horror,  and  propitiated  only  with 
human  sacrifices.  Mission  work  commenced  in  Bulgarin' 
during  the  latter  part  of  the  9th  century ;  thence  it 
extended  to  Moravia,  where  two  Greek  missionaries — Cyril 
and  Methodius — provided  for  the  people  a  Slavonic  Bible 


*  Church,  Oi/la  of  Civilizol'v,  p.  330.' 
»  Bede,  U.K.,  v.  19. 

•  "  Aonal.  Xantenses,"  Peril,  Mon.  Gertn.y  it- 
'  Bedc,  II. E.,  V.  10. 

'  See  Lightfoot,  A  ncient  and  Modem  .Viaioiu, 


miBSIONS 


613 


tuxi  a,  Slayonic  Litm-gy ;  thence  to  Bohemia,  and  so 
onwards  tj  iiio  Scythian  wilds  and  level  steppes,  where 
arose  the  Russian  kingdom  of  Ruric  the  Northman,  and 
where  about  the  close  of  the  10th  centiuy  the.  Eastern 
Church  "  silently  and  almost  unconsciously  bore  into  the 
world  her  mightiest  offspring." '  But,  though  the  baptism 
of  Vladimir  and  the  flinging  of  the  triple  and  many-headed 
idols  into  the  waters  of  the  Dnieper  was  a  heavy  blow  to 
Slavonic  idolatry,  mission  work  was  carried  on  with  but 
partial  success ;  and  it  taxed  all  the  energies  of  Albrecht, 
bishop  of  Bremen,  of  Viciliit,  bishop  of  Oldenburg,  of 
Bishop  Otto  of  Bamberg  the  apostle  of  the  Pomeranians, 
of  Adalbert  the  martyr-apostle  of  Prussia,  to  spread  the 
word  in  that  country,  in  Lithuania,  and  in  the  territory  of 
the  Wends.  It  was  not  till  1168  that  the  gigantic  foiir- 
headed  image  of  Swantevit  was  destroyed  at  Arcona, 
the  capital  of  the  island  of  Rugen,  and  this  Mona  of 
Slavonic  superstition  was  included  in  the  advancing 
circle  of  Christian  civilization.  As  late  as  1230  human 
sacrifices  were  still  being  ofEered  up  in  Prussia  and 
Lithuania,  and,  in  spite  of  all  the  efforts  of  the  Teutonic 
Knights  to  expel  by  force  the  last  remains  of  heathenism 
from  the  face  of  Europe,  idolatrous  practices  still  lingered 
amongst  the  people,  while  in  the  districts  inhabited 
by  the  Lapps,  though  successful  missions  had  been 
inaugurated  as  early  as  1335,  Christianity  cannot  be  said 
to  have  become  the  dominant  religion  till  at  least  two 
centuries  later. 

(e)  Moslem  MissioTis. — The  mention  of  tne  order  of  the 
Teutonic  Knights  reminds  us  how  the  crusading  spirit  had 
affected  Christendom,  and  exchanged  the  patience  of  a 
Boniface  or  an  Anskar  for  the  fiery  zeal  of  the  warrior  of 
the  cross.  '  Still  it  is  refreshing  to  notice  how  even  now 
there  was  found  the  famous  Raymond  Lully  to  protest 
against  propagandism  by  the  sword,  to  ilrge  on  pope  after 
pope  the  necessity  of  missions  amongst  the  Moslems,  and 
to  seal  his  testimony  with  his  blood  outside  the  gates 
of  Bugiah  in  northern  Africa  (June  30,  1315).  Out 
of  the  crusades,  however,  arose  other  efforts  to  bear  the 
banner  of  the  cross  into  the  lands  of  the  East,  and  to 
develop  the  work  which  Nestorian  missionaries  from 
Baghdad,  Edessa,  and  Nisibis  had  already  inaugurated 
along  the  Malabar  coast,  in  the  island  of  Ceylon,  and 
in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  Caspian  Sea.  Li  1245 
the  Roman  pontiff  sent  two  embassies,  one  to  charge 
the  Mongol  warriors  to  desist  from  their  desolating  inroads 
into  Europe,  the  other  to  attempt  to  win  them  over  to 
the  Christian  faith.  The  first,  a  party  of  four  Dominicans, 
sought  the  commander-in-chief  of  the  Mongol  forces  in 
Persia ;  the  second,  consisting  of  Franciscans,  made  their 
way  into.Tartary,  and  sought  to  convert  the  successor 
of  Oktai-Khan.  Their  exertions  were  seconded  in  1253 
by  the  labours  of  another  Franciscan  whom  Louis  IX.  of 
France  sent  forth  from  Cyprus,-  while  in  1274  the 
celebrated  traveller  Marco  Polo,  accompanied  by  two 
learned  Dominicans,  visited  the  court  of  Kublai-Khan, 
and  at  the  commencement  of  the  14th  century  two 
Franciscans  penetrated  as  far  as  Peking,  and  kept  alive  a 
dickering  spark  of  Christianity  in  the  Tartar  kingdom, 
even  translating  the  New  Testament  and  the  Psalter  into 
the  Tartar  language,  and  training  youths  for  a  native 
Diinistry.' 

(/)  Mission*  to  India  and  the  New  World. — These  ten- 
tative missions  in  the  East  were  now  to  be  supplemented  by 
others  on  a  larger  scale.  In  1486  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope 
was  rounded  by  Dias,  and  in  1508  the  foxmdations  of  the 

•  Stanley,  Eastern  Church,  p.  294. 
'Neander,  vil  69;  Haklayt,  171;  Hue,  L  207. 

•  Neaudei,  TiL  79;  Gieseler,  iv.  259,  260;  Haidwick,  Middle  Ages, 
236-33^ 


Portuguese  Indian  empire  were  laid  by  Albuquerque. 
Columbus  also  in  1492  had  landed  on  San  Salvador,  and 
the  voyages  of  the  Venetian  Cabot  along  the  coast  of  North 
America  opened  up  a  new  world  to  missionary  enterprise. 
These  bold  discoverers  had  secured  the  countenance  of  the 
pope  on  the  condition  that  wherever  they  might  plant  a 
flag  they  should  be  also  zealous  in  promoting  the  extension 
of  the  Christian  iaith.  Thus  a  grand  opportunity  was 
given  toi  the  chmches  of  Portugal  and  Spain.  But  the 
zeal  of  the  Portuguese,  even  when  not  choked  by  the  rising 
lust  of  wealth  and  territorial  power,  took  too  often  a 
one-sided  direction,  repressing  the  Syrian  Christians  on 
the  Malabar  coast,  and  interfering  \vith  the  Abyssinian 
Church,^  while  the  fanatic  temper  of  the  Spaniard, 
maddened  by  his  prolonged  conflict  with  the  iafidcl  at  home, 
betrayed  him  into  methods  of  propagating  his  faith  which 
we  cannot  contemplate  without  a  shudder,  consigning,  in 
Mexico  and  Peru,  multitudes  who  '  would  not  renounce 
their  heathen  errors  to  indiscriminate  massacre  or  abject 
slavery.^  Their  only  defender  for  many  years  was  the 
famous  Las  Casas,  who,  ha\'ing  sojourned  amongst  them 
till  1516,  has  drawn  a  terrible  picture  of  the  oppression 
he  strove  in  vain  to  prevent.*  Some  steps  indeed  were 
taken  for  disseminating  Christian  principles,  and  the  pope 
in  granting  territory  to  the  crowns  of  Spain  and  Portugal 
had  specially  urged  this  duty,  and  had  been  instrumental 
in  inducing  a  band  of  missionaries,  chiefly  of  the  mendicant 
orders,  to  go  forth  to  this  new  mission  field.'  But  the 
results  were  scanty.  Only  five  bishoprics  had  been 
established  by  1520,  and  the  number  of  genuine  con- 
verts was  small.  In  settling,  however,  his  realm  the 
conqueror  of  Mexico  evinced  no  little  solicitude  for  the 
spiritual  welfare  of  his  charge;  and  the  labours  of  the 
devoted  men  whom  he  begged  the  emperor  to  send  out 
were  successful  in  banishing  every  vestige  of  the  Aztec 
worship  from  the  Spanish  settlements.' 

(g)  The  Jesuit  Missions. — It  was  during  the  period  at 
which  we  have  now  arrived  that  the  great  organization  of 
the  Jesuits  came  into  existence,  and  one  of  the  first 
of  Loyola's  associates,  Francis  Xavier,  was  also  one  of  the 
greatest  and  most  zealous  missionaries  of  his  or  any  other 
era.  Encouraged  by  the  joint  co-operation  of  the  pope 
and  of  John  HI.  of  Portugal,  and  strongly  tinged  like 
Loyola  with  ideas  of  chivalry  and  self-devotion,  he  disem- 
barked at  Goa  on  the  6th  of  May  1542,  and  before  his 
death  on  the  Isle  of  St  John  (Hiang-Shang),  December  2, 
1552,  he  had  roused  the  European  Christians  of  Goa  to  a 
new  life,  laboured  with  singiilar  success  amongst  the  Para- 
vars,  a  fisher  caste  near  Cape  Comorin,  gathered  many 
converts  in  the  kingdom  of  Travancore,  visited  the  island 
of  Malacca,  made  his  way  to  and  founded  a  mission  in 
Japan,  thence  revisited  Goa,  and  impelled  by  the  quenchless 
desire  to  unfurl  the  baimer  of  the  cross  in  China,  had  set 
out  thither  to  fall  a  victim  to  malignant  fever  at  the 
early  age  of  forty -six,  within  sight  of  that  vast  empire  whose 
conversion  had  been  the  object  of  his  holy  ambition. 

The  immediate  successor  of  Xavier,  Antonio  Criminalis, 
was  regarded  by  the  Jesuits  as  the  first  martyr  of  their 
society  (1562).  Mattheo  Ricci,  an  Italian  by  birth,  was 
also  an  indefatigable  missionary  in  China  for  twenty-seven 
years,  while  the  peculiar  methods  of  unholy  compromise 
with  Brahmanism  in  India  followed  by  Robert  de'  Nobili 
drew  down  the  condemnatory  briefs  of  pope  after  pdpe,  and 
were  fatal  to  the  vitality  of  his  own  and  other  missions. 


«  Gtddes,  History  of  the  Chwrch  of  Malabar,  p.  4 ;  Neale,  Batiem 
Church,  ii.  343. 

•  Prescott,  Conquest  of  Mexico,  i.  318,  iii.  211, 

•  Rclacion  de  la  Deitruycion  de  las  Indias 
'  Prescott,  Mexico,  Ui  218  n. 

•  Prescott,  iii.  219  

XVL  —  6r 


514 


MISSIONS 


Otlier  representatives  of  the  same  order  worked  with 
success  ill  evangelizing  the  Spanish  settlement  of  Paraguay 
in  1582,  while  their  defeated  foes  the  Huguenots  sent 
forth  under  a  French  knight  of  Malta  a  body  of  devoted 
men  to  attempt  the  formation  of  a  Christian  colony  at  Rio 
Janeiro.  By  the  close  of  the  16th  century  the  unflag- 
ging zeal  of  the  Jesuits  led  to  a  more  complete  development 
and  organization  of  the  missionary  system  of  the  Eoman 
Church.  To  give  unity  and  solidity  to  the  work  of  i^issions, 
a  committee  of  cardinals  was  appointed  under  the  name 
of  the  "  Congregatio  de  propaganda  fide,"  and  to  it  was 
entrusted  the  entire  management  of  the  mission,  conducted 
under  the  superintendence  of  the  pope.  The  scheme  origin- 
ated with  Gregory  XECI.,  but  was  not  fully  organized  till 
forty  years  afterwards,  when  Gregory  XV.  gave  it  plenary 
authority  by  a  bull  dated  June  2,  1622.  Gregory's  suc- 
cessor, Urban  YIII.,  supplemented  the  establishment  of  the 
congregation  by  founding  in  connexion  with  it  a  great 
missionaiy  college,  where  Europeans  might  be  trained  for 
foreign  labours,  and  natives  might  bo  educated  to  undertake 
mission  work  wherever  new  colonies  were  settled.  At 
this  college  is  the  missionary  printing-press  of  the  Komau 
Church,  and  its  library  contains  an  unrivalled  collection  of 
literary  treasures  bearing  on  the  particular  work.  From  its 
walls  have  gone  forth  numbers  of  devoted  men,  who  have 
proved  themselves  able  to  promote  in  a  singular  degree  the 
enlargement  of  the  boundaries  of  the  church  by  means  of 
material  as  well  as  spiritual  forces. 

3.  The  Modern  Period. 

This  last  period  of  missionai-y  activity  is  distinguished 
in  a  special  degree  by  the  exertions  of  societies  for  the 
derelopment  of  mission  work. 

As  contrasted  with  the  colossal  display  of  power  on  the 
part  of  the  Chui'ch  of  Rome,  it  must  be  allowed  that  the 
chui-ches  which  in  the  16th  century  broke  off  from  their 
allegiance  to  the  Latin  centre  at  first  presented  a  great 
tack  of  anxiety  for  the  extension  of  the  gospel  and  the 
salvation  of  the  heathen.  The  causes  of  this,  however,  are 
not  far  to  seek.  The  isolation  of  the  Teutonic  churches 
from  the  vast  system  with  which  they  had  been  bound  up, 
the  conflicts  and  troubles  among  themselves,  the  necessity 
of  fixing  their  own  principles  and  defining  their  own  rights, 
concentrated  their  attention  upon  themselves  and  their  own 
home  work,  to  the  neglect  of  work  abroad. 

Still  the  development  of  the  maritime  power  of  England, 
which  the  Portuguese  and  Spanish  monarchies  noted  with 
fear  and  jealousy,  was  distinguished  by  a  singular  anxiety 
fsr  the  spread  of  the  Christian  faith.  Edward  VI.  in  his 
instructions  to  the  navigators  in  Willoughby's  fleet,  Cabot 
in  those  for  the  direction  of  the  intended  voyage  to  Cathay, 
good  old  Hakluyt,  who  promoted  many  voyages  of  dis- 
coTciy  in  addition  to  writing  then-  history,  agree  ^vith 
Sir  Humphrey  Gilbert's  chronicler  that  "  the  sowing  of 
Christianity  nnist  be  the  chief  intent  of  such  as  shall  make 
ii.y  attempt  at  foreign  discover)-,  or  else  whatever  is  builded 
upon  other  foundation  shall  never  obtain  happy  success 
nr  continuance."  'NATien  on  the  last  day  of  the  year  1600 
Queen  Elizabeth  granted  a  cliarter  to  George,  earl  of 
Cumberland,  and  other  "  adventiu-ers,"  to  bo  a  body- 
corporate  by  the  name  of  "The  Governor  and  Company  of 
Merchants  of  London  trading  with  the  East  Indies,"  the 
e.xprcoscd  recognition  of  hi^dier  duties  than  those  of  com- 
merce may  by  some  bo  deemed  a  mere  matter  of  form, 
and,  to  use  the  words  of  Bacon,  "  what  was  first  in  God's 
providence  was  but  second  in  man's  appetite  and  intention." 
Yet  a  keen  sense  of  missionary  duty  marks  many  of  the 
chronicles  of  English  mariners.  Notably  was  this  the  case 
with  the  estabUshmeut  of  the  first  English  colony  in 
America,  that  of  Virginia,  by  Sir  Walter  Raleigh.     Tlie 


philosopher  Heriot,  one  of  his  colleagues,  laboured  for  the 
conversion  of  the  natives,  amongst  whom  the  first  baptism 
is  recorded  to  have  taken  place  on  August  13,  1587.' 
Raleigh  himself  presented  as  a  parting  gift  to  the  Virgini''.n 
Company  the  sum  of  £100  "for  the  propagation  of  the 
Christian  religion  "  in  that  settlement.^  When  James  I. 
granted  letters  patent  for  the  occupation  of  Virginia  it 
was  directed  that  the  "word  and  service  of  God  be 
preached,  planted,  and  used  as  well  in  the  said  colonies 
as  also  as  much  as  might  be  among  the  savages  bordering 
among  them";  and  the  honoured  names  of  Nicolas  Ferrar 
John  Ferrar,  Dr  Donne,  and  Sir  John  Sandys,  a  pupU  of 
Hooker,  are  all  found  on  the  council  by  wluch  the  home 
management  of  the  colony  was  conducted. 

In  the  year  1618  was  published  The  True  Honour  of 
Navigation  and  Navigators,  by  John  Wood,  D.D.,  dedicated 
to  Sir  Thomas  Smith,  governor  to  the  East  India  Company, 
and  much  about  the  same  time  appeared  the  well-known 
treatise  of  the  famous  Grotius,  De  Veritate  Beligionis 
Clirisiians,  ■nTitten  for  the  express  use  of  settlers  in  distant 
lands.  The  wants,  moreover,  of  the  North  American 
colonies  did  not  escape  the  attention  of  Archbishop  Laud 
during  his  official  connexion  with  them  as  bishop  of 
London,  and  he  was  developing  a  plan  for  promoting  a 
local  episcopate  there  when  his  troubles  began  and  hia 
scheme  was  interrupted.  During  the  Protectorate,  in 
1649,  an  ordinance  was  passed  for  "the  promoting  and 
propagating  of  the  gospel  of  Jesus  Christ  in  New  England  " 
by  the  erection  of  a  corporation,  to  be  called  by  the  name 
of  the  President  and  Society  for  the  Propagation  of  the 
Gospel  in  New  England,  to  receive  and  dispose  of  moneys 
for  the  purpose,  and  a  general  collection  was  ordered  to  be 
mads  in  all  the  parishes  of  England  and  Wales;  and 
CromweU  himself  desired  a  scheme  for  setting  up  a  council 
for  the  Protestant  .religion,  which  should  rival  the  Roman 
Propaganda,  and  consist  of  seven  councillors  and  four 
secretaries  for  different  provinces.^  On  the  restoration  of 
the  monarchy,  thi'ough  the  influence  of  Richard  Baxter 
with  Lord  Chancellor  Hyde,  the  charter  already  granted 
by  Cromwell  was  renewed,  and  its  powers  were  enlarged. 
For  now  the  corporation  was  styled  "  The  Propagation  oi 
the  Gospel  in  New  England  and  the  parts  adjacent -in 
America,"  and  its  object  was  defined  to  be  "  not  only  te 
seek  the  outward  welfare  and  prosperity  of  those  colonies, 
but  more  especially  to  endeavoui'  the  good  and  salvation  of 
their  immortal  souls,  and  the  publishing  the  most  glorious 
gospel  of  Christ  among  them."  On  the  list  of  the 
corporation  the  first  name  is  the  earl  of  Clarendon,  while 
the  Hon.  Robert  Boyle  was  appointed  president.  Amongst 
the  most  eminent  of  its  missionaries  was  the  celebrated 
John  Elict,  who,  encouraged  by  Boyle,  and  assisted  by  him 
with  considerable  sums  of  money,  brought  out  the  Bible  in 
the  Indian  language  in  1661-64,  having  revealed  at  the  end 
of  the  Indian  grammar  which  he  had  composed  the  secret  of 
his  success :  "prayer  and  pains,  through  faith  in  Jesus  Christ, 
will  do  anything."  Boyle  displayed  in  other  ways  his  zeal 
for  the  cause  of  missions.  He  contributed  to  the  expense 
of  printing  and  publishing  at  Oxford  the  four  Gospels  and 
the  Acts  of  the  Apostles  in  the  Malay  language,  and  at  his 
death  left  £5400  for  the  propagation  of  the  gospel  lo 
heathen  lands. 

The  needs  of  the  colonial  church  soon  excited  the  attention 
of  others  also,  and  great  efforts  were  made  by  Bishop 
Beveridgo,  Archbishop  Wake,  Archbishop  Sharpe,  Bishop 
Gibson,  and  afterwards  by  the  philosoi>hic  Bishop  Berkeley, 
and  Bishop  Butler,  the  famous  author  of  the  Analog;/,  to 


*  Halvluvt,  Voyaiics,  iii.  Si5. 
=  Oldy,  'Lift  0/ MalfMih,  p.  ns. 

'  Ncale,  Hidorij  of  Xcw  EmjUml,  i.  p.  2«0  ;  Eumct,  Hilton/  of 
■.is  own  Times,  i.  p.  132. 


MISSIO>TS 


515 


develop  the  colonial  church  and  provide  for  the  wants  of  the 
indian  tribes.  In  1696  Dr  Braj-,  at  the  request  of  the  gover- 
ror  and  assembly  of  Maryland,  was  selected  by  the  bishop  of 
London  as  ecclesiastical  commiesaiy ;  and,  having  sold  his 
effects,  and  raised  money  on  credit,  he  sailed  for  Maryland 
in  1699,  where  ho  promoted,  in  various  ways,  the  interests 
of  the  church.  Returning  to  England  in  1700-1,  and 
supported  by  all  the  weight  of  Archbishop  Tenison  and 
Bishop  Compton,  ho  was  graciously  received  by  William  TTT, 
and  received  letters  patent  under  the  great  seal  of 
England  for  creating  a  corporation  by  the  name  of  the 
"Society  for  the  Propagation  of  the  Gospel  in  Foreign 
Parts  "  on  the  16th  of  June  1701. 

With  the  establishment  of  this  corporation  the  era  of 
the  activity  of  societies  for  carrying  out  mission  worik  may 
be  said  to  commence,  though  the  opening  of  the  18th 
century  saw  other  movements  set  on  foot  for  the  same 
object. '  Thus  in  1705  Frederick  IV.  of  Denmark  founded 
a  mission  on  the  Coromandel  coast,  and  inaugurated  the 
labours  of  Ziegenbalg,  Schultze,  and  Schwartz,  whose 
devotion  and  success  told  with  such  remarkable  reflex 
influence  on  the  church  at  home.  Again  in  1731  the 
Moravians  illustrated  in  a  signal  degree  the  growing 
consciousness  of  obligation  towards  the  heathen.  Driven 
by  persecution  from  Moravia,  hunted  into  inountain-caves 
and  forests,  they  had  scarcely  secured  a  place  of  refuge  in 
Saxony  before,  "  though  a  mere  handful  in  numbers,  yet 
with  the  spirit  of  men  banded  for  daring  and  righteous 
deeds,  they  formed  the  heroic  design,  and  vowed  the 
execution  of  it  before  God,  of  bearing  the  gospel  to  the 
savage  and  perishing  tribes  of  Greenland  and  the  West 
Indies,  of  whose  condition  report  had  brought  a  mournful 
rumour  to  their  ears."  And  so,  literally  with  "neither 
bread  nor  scrip,"  they  went  forth  on  their  pilgrimage,  and, 
incredible  as  it  sounds,  within  ten  years  they  had  established 
missions  in  the  islands  of  the  West  Indies,  in  South 
America,  Surinam,  Greenland,  among  the  North  American 
tribes,  in  Lapland,  Tartary,  Algiers,  Guinea,  the  Cape  of 
Good  Hope,  and  Ceylon.^ 

Such  were  the  preparations  for  the  more  general  move- 
ments during  the  last  hundred  years,  and  the  manifesta- 
tion of  missionary  zeal  on  a  scale  to  which  it  would  be  diffi- 
cult to  find  a  parallel  in  Western  Christianity. ' 

The  progress  that  has  been  made  may  be  best  judged  of 
from  consideration  of  the  following  details  : — 

(o)  At  the  close  of  the  last  century  there  were  only  seven 
missionary  societies  in  existence,  properly  so  called.  Of  these 
three  only,  the  Society  for  the  Propagation  of  the  Gospel  in 
Foreign  Parts,  the  Halle-Danish  Society,  and  the  Moravians,  had 
hecn  at  work  for  the  greater  part  of  the  century,  whilst  four,  the 
Church  Missionary  Society,  the  Baptist  Missionary  Society,  the 
Ijondon  Missionary  Society,  and  the  Dutch  Society  at  Rotterdam, 
began  their  work  only  in  its  tenth  decade.  To-day  these  seven 
have,  in  Europe  and  America  alone,  increased  to  upwards  of 
seventy,  and  to  these  must  be  added,  not  only  several  inaependent 
societies  in  the  colonies,  but  nomerons  missionary  associations  on  a 
smaller  scale,  the  offspring  of  English  and  American  societies. 

(6)  The  following  chronological  lists  illustrate  the  growth  of 
missionary  societies  in  Britain  and  the  United  States  : — 

Great  Britain  and  Ireland. 
1631.  ChrtsMui  F>lth  Society  tor  the  West  Indies. 
i'JJS.  Society  for  Promoting  Christian  Knowldge. 
1701.  Society  for  the  PropaEation  of  the  Gospel  In  Foreign  Psrts. 
1732.  Moravian  (Episcopal)  Missions  of  the  United  Brethren. 
1792.  Baptist  Missionary  Society. 

1795.  London  Wssionary  Society. 

1796.  Scottish  Missionary  Society. 
1799.  Church  Missionary  Society. 
1799,  Rellgloas  Tract  Society. 

180«.  British  and  Foreign  Bible  Society. 

1808.  London  Society  for  Promoting  Christianity  amosg  the  Jens 
1S13.  Wesleyan  Missionary  Society. 
1817.  General  Baptist  Missionary  Society. 
1823.  Colonial  and  Continental  Church  Sodety. 
1829.  Chtirch  of  Scotland  UiailoQ  Boards. 
Katlonal  Bible  Society  of  Scotland. 


•  Holmes,  Els'..  Sketches  of  the  Uiaiont  of  the  United  Brel'iTtn, 
p.  3;  Grant,  Bamptm,  Lecturet,  p.  190. 


.  Trinitarian  Bihle  Society. 

.  Wesleyan  Ladies'  Auiiliar^'  for  F^malo  Ednwtjon  in  Foreign  Cotatrtei. 

.  society  for  Promoting  Female  Education  in  the  East. 

■  S"?"?  .Sf^selon  (now  United  Presbyteriani  Foreign  Ulaslonl. 

.  Colonial  Missionary  Society. 

,  Foreign  Aid  Society. 

Coral  Missionary  Fund, 
,  Welsh  Cttlnnistic  Methodist  Missionary  Society 
.  (^lonisl  Bishoprics  Fond. 
.  Edinburgh  Uedlcal  Missionary  Society. 

Waldensian  Missions  Aid  Fund- 
.  British  Society  lor  the  Propagation  of  the  Goepel  among  the  Jew. 
.  Free  Church  of  Scotland  Missions. 
.  Primitive  Methodist  African  and  Colonial  Missions. 

Methodist  New  Connexion  in  England  Foreign  Missions. 
.  South  American  Missionary  Society. 
,  Evangelical  Continental  Society. 
,  Indliin  Female  Kormal  School  Society. 
.  Lebanon  Schools. 
.  Presbyterian  Chtirch  in  Enghu 
.  Turkish  Missions  Aid  Society. 
.  United  Methodist  Free  Churches  Foreign  Missions. 
.  Christian  Vernacular  Education  Society  for  India. 
,  Central  African  Mission  of  the  English  Universitiea. 
,  British  S)Tian  Schools. 

Melanesian  Mission. 

Ladles'  Association  for  Promoting  Fenale  EdQcatlon  amoDj  t'ao  Heathco.. 
,  China  Inland  Mission. 

Delhi  Female  Medical  Mission. 
,  "Friends"  Foreign  Mission  Association. 
.  Cape  Town  Aid  Association. 

"  Friends"  Mission  in  Syria  and  Palestine. 

Irish  Presbyterian  Missions. 

1876.  Spanish  and  Portuguese  Church  Aid  Society. 
Columbia  Mission. 

Original  Secession  (Church  Indian  Mission. 

1877.  Cambridge  Mission  to  Delhi. 

leso.  Clharch  of  England  Zenana  Missionary  Society. 

Vnite-i  States  of  America. 
17S3.  Ccrporation  for  the  Propagation  of  the  Gospel  hi  Kr~  "nglaod. 
1787.  Society  for  Propagattog  the  Gospel  among  the  Indi::^^  tt  Bostflo. 
180(».  New  York  Missionary  Society. 

Connecticut  Missionary  Society  for  Indians. 
1803.  United  States  Mission  to  the  Cherokees. 
1806.  Western  Missionary  Society  for  Indians. 
1810.  Board  of  Commissioners  lor  Foreign  Missions. 
1814.  Baptist  Mlssionaiy  Union. 
1819.  Methodist  Episcopal  Church  Missionary  Society'. 
1S33.  Free-wiU  Baptist  Foreign  Jlissionary  Society  in  India. 
1835.  Foreign  Missions  of  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church. 
1837.  Board  of  Foreign  Missions  of  the  Presbyterian  Church 
1837.  Evangelical  Lutheran  Foreign  Missionary  Society. 

1842.  Seventh  Day  Baptist  Missionary  Society 
Strict  Baptist  Missionary  Society. 

1843.  Baptist  Free  Missionary  Society. 

1345.  Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  South. 
1845.  Southern  Baptist  Convention. 

1346.  American  Mlssionaiy  Association. 

1867.  Board  of  Foreign  Missions  of  (Dutch)  Reformed  Ohnreh. 
1S59.  Board  of  Foreign  Missions  of  United  PresbyterLin  Choitb. 

American  United  Brethren,  Moravian. 

United  States  (German  Evangelical  Missionary  Society. 

American  Mexican  Association. 

Indian  Home  Missionary  Association 

Indian  Missionary  Association. 

Local  Baptist  Missionary  Society. 

Women's  Union  Zenana  Missionary  Society. 

(c)  At  the  beginning  of  the  present  century  the  total  sum  con- 
tributed for  Protestant  missions  can  hardly  be  said  to  have 
amounted  to  £60,000;  in  1882  the  amount  raised  by  British  con- 
tributions alone  to  foreign  missions  amounted  to  upwards  ol 
£1,090,000,'  thus  divided  :— 

(anrch  of  England  Missions £460,935 

Joint  Societies  of  Churchmen  and  Nonconformists. 168,320 

Nonconformist  Societies,  English  and  Welsh 313,177 

Scottish  and  Irish  Societies 165,767 

Roman  Catholic  Societies. 10,910 

(d)  At  the  same  date  it  is  calculated  that  there  were  about  5000 
heathen  converts  tmder  instruction,  not  counting  those  belonging 
to  ttie  Roman  Catholic  missions.  At  the  present  day  the  converts 
from  heathenism  may  be  estimated  certainly  at  no  less  than 
1,800,000,  a  single  year  (1878)  showing  an  increase  of  about  60,000. 

'(«)  When  the  Society  for  the  Propagation  of  the  Gospel  was 
founded  in  1701,  there  were  probably  not  twenty  clergymen  of  the 
Church  of  England  in  foreign  parts.  The  spiritual  condition  of 
the  settlers  in  America  and  elsewhere  was  terrible  in  the  extreme, 
and  no  effort  was  then  made  by  the  church  to  win  over  the  heathen 
to  Christ.  But  now  the  position  which  the  church  holds  in  the 
British  colonies  and  dependencies  and  many  parts  of  heathendom 
is  recognized  by  all  In  those  regions  where  the  society  labours, 
and  which  before  it  commenced  its  work  were  spiritnally  the 
"waste  places"  of  the  earth,  there  are,  including  the  American 
Church  (the  first  fruits  of  the  society's  efforts),  138  bishops,  more 
than  6000  clergy,  and  upwards  of  2,000,000  members  of  the 
communion. 

The  above  tables  sufficiently  indicate  how  varied  are  the 
missionary  agencies  now  at  work,  covering  the  heathen 


»  See  Scott  Robertson,  Analysii  of  British  Contributions  to  Foreum 
Miesivm,  1883. 


516 


[,i  i  S  S  I  O  N  S 


world  with  a  network  of  miosiou  outposts,  -which  within 
the  last  century  have  won  nearly  two  millions  of  converts 
to  the  Christian  faith. 

The  continuity  of  missionary  enthusiasm  maintainea 
through  the  primitive,  the  mediaeval,  and  the  modern  periods 
of  the  church's  history,  operating  at  every  critical  epoch, 
and  survi\ing  after  periods  of  stagnation  and  depression, 
is  a  very  significant  fact.  It  is  true  that  other  religions 
have  been  called  missionary  religions,  and  that  one  of  them 
occupies  the  first  place  in  the  religious  census  of  mankind.' 
But  the  missionary  activity  of  Buddhism  is  a  thing  of  the 
past,  and  no  characteristic  rite  distinguishing  it  has  found  its 
way  into  a  second  continent ;  while,  as  for  Mohammedanism, 
the  character  of  its  teaching  is  too  exact  a  reflexion  of  the 
race,  time,  place,  and  climate  in  which  it  arose  to  admit 
of  its  becoming  universal.-  These  and  other  religions  of 
the  far  East  may  still  maintain  their  hold  over  millions,  but 
it  must  be  admitted  that  their  prospect  of  endurance  iji 
the  presence  of  advancing  Christianity  is  very  small  and 
it  is  difficult  to  trace  the  slightest  probability  of  their 
harmonizing  with  the  intellectual,  social,  and  moral  progress 
of  the  modern  world.  With  all  its  deficiencies,  the  Christian 
church  has  gained  the  "  nations  of  the  future,"  and  whereas 
in  the  3d  century  the  proportion  of  Christians  to  the 
whole  human  race  was  only  that  of  one  in  a  hundred  and 
fifty,  this  has  now  been  exchanged  for  one  in  five,^  and  it 
is  indisputable  that  the  progress  of  the  htunan  race  at  this 
moment  is  entirely  identified  with  the  spread  of  the 
influence  of  the  nations  of  Christendom. 

Side  by  side  with  this  continuity  of  missionary  zeal, 
a  noticeable  feature  is  the  immense  influence  of  individual 
energy  and  the  subduing  force  of  personal  character. 
Around  individuals  penetrated  with  Christian  zeal  and  self- 
denial  has  centred  not  merely  the  life,  but  the  very 
existence,  of  primitive,  mediajval,  and  modern  missions. 
What  Ulfila  was  to  the  Gothic  tribes,  what  Columba 
and  his  disciples  were  to  the  early  Celtic  missions,  what 
Augustine  or  Aidan  was  to  the  British  Isles,  what  Boni- 
face was  to  the  churches  of  Germany  and  Anskar  to 
those  of  Denmark  and  Sweden,  that,  on  the  discovery  of  a 
new  world  of  missionary  enterprise,  was  Xavier  to  India, 
Hans  Egede  to  Greenland,  Eliot  to  the  Ked  Indians, 
Martyn  to  the  church  of  Cawnpore,  Marsden  to  the  Maoris, 
Carey  and  Marshman  to  Burmah,  Heber,  Wilson,  Milman, 
and  Dufi  to  India,  Gray,  Livingstone,  Mackenzie,  Steere, 
Callaway  to  Africa,  Broughton  to  Australia,  Patteson  to 
Melanesia,  Jlountain  and  Feild  to  Newfoundlaud,  Crowther 
to  the  Xiger  Territory,  Brett  to  Guiana.  At  the  most 
critical  epochs  such  men  have  ever  been  raised  up,  and  the 
reflex  influence  of  their  lives  and  self-denial  has  told  upon 
the  church  at  home,  while  apart  from  their  influence  the 
entire  history  of  important  portions  of  the  world's  surface 
would  have  been  altered. 

If  from  the  agents  themselves  we  turn  to  the  work  that 
has  been  accomplished  it  will  not  be  disputed  that  the 
success  of  missions  has  been  marked  amongst  rude  and 
aboriginal  tribes.  'What  was  true  in  the  early  missions 
has  been  found  true  in  these  latter  times.  The  rude  and 
barbarous  northern  peoples  seemed  to  fall  like  "  full  ripe 
fruit  before  the  first  breath  of  the  gospel."  The  Goths 
and  the  Vandals  who  poured  down  upon  the  Roman  empire 
were  evangelized  so  silently  and  rapidly  that  only  a  fact 
here  and  there  relating  to  their  conversion  has  been 
l>reserved.  Now  this  is  exactly  analogous  to  modern 
experience  in  the  South  Seas,  America,  and  Africa. 
We  must  here  content  ourselves  with  a  cursory  survey 


»  Mni  Mullcr,  Chi}>s,  iv.  p.  265. 

^  Nowraau,  Orammar  of  Assent,  p.  424. 

'  Lightfpot,  Coinvarative  X^rogrcss  of  Ancient  and  Modtrn  Miisionj, 

p.  8        - 


of  what  missionary  enterprise  has  accomplished  in  those 
regions  and  among  the  more  civilized  nations  of  Eastern 
Asia. 

Tkfi  South  Seas. — Thatmissious  have  done  mucn  in  these  regions 
in  suppressing  cannibalism,  human  sacrifices,  and  infanticide, 
humanizing  the  laws  of  war,  and  elevating  the  social  condition  of 
women,  is  a  fact  confirmed  by  the  rescarcnes  of  Meinicke,  WaiU, 
Gotland,  Oberlander,  and  even  of  Darwin.* 

In  Australia  work  among  the  ahorigines,  wherever  it  has  been 
zealously  conducted,  has  boen  blessed  with  signal  success.  Amongst 
the  Papuans  the  Moravian  stations  of  Ebenezer  in  the  district  of 
■Wiramera,  and  Ramahyuck  in  that  of  Gippsland,  can  point  ;;o 
their  little  villages  of  125  native  Christian  inhabitants,  their 
cleanly  houses^  and  their  well-ordered  churches.  In  the  district  of 
South  Adelaide,  nt  Point  Macleay,  the  Scottish  Presbyterian  MiE3i^?n 
has  been  similarly  successful,  while  in  New  Zealand  the  native 
population  was  converted  almost  within  a  single  generation.  In  tlie 
islands  north  and  north-west  of  Australia  the  Dutch  missionai'tos 
have  been  especially  successful  in  the  lilinahassa  (see  Celebes), 
of  whose  114,000  inhabitants  more  than  80,000  have  been  won 
over  to  the  Christian  faith,  forming  195  communities  with  12:1 
schools;  and  in  southern  Borneo,  the  Rhenish  Mission  in  the  south 
and  the  Society  for  the  Propagation  of  the  Gospel  in  the  north  have 
been  enabled  to  establish  themselves  firmly,  while  the  former 
society  has  also  done  a  great  work  among  the  Battaks  in  Sumatra. 
'Amongst  the  dark-coloured  races  of  Polynesia  missionary  work  baa 
made  gieat  advances  through  the  labours  of  the  London  Missionary 
Society,  the  "VVesIeyans,  and  the  American  Board.  Making  Tahiti 
its  basis  of  operations,  the  first-named  society  has  carried  on 
missionaiy  operations  in  the  islands  of  Australasia,  Hervey,  Samoa, 
Tokelau,  and  Kllice,  while  the  -American  Board  has  witnessed 
equally  favourable  results  in  the  Sandwich  Islands,  and  in  Micronesia 
(Caroline,  Marshall,  and  Gilbert  Islands)  the  agents  of  the  Hawaiian 
Association  are  actively  at  work  under  the  direction  of  American 
missionaries.  In  Melanesia  the  Society  for  the  Propagation  of  the 
Gospel,  the  Wesleyans,  the  London  Missionary  Society,  and  the 
Presbyterians  are  all  actively  engaged.  The  Fiji  group  stands  out 
as  one  of  the  most  promising  centres  of  Christian  civilization,  and 
the  governor.  Sir  A.  Gordon,  was  enabled  to  report  in  1S79  that,  out  of 
a  population  of  about  120,000,  102,000  are  now  regular  worshippers 
in  the  churches,  which  number  600,  Vhile  over  42,000  children  are 
in  attendance  in  1534  Christian  day  schools.  The  Loyalty  Islands 
have  been  occupied  partly  by  Roman  Catholic  missions  and  partly 
by  tlie  London  Blissionnry  Society,  while  lu  the  New  Hebrides  the 
missionaries  of  the  Free  Church  of  Scotland  and  of  the  Presby- 
terian churches  of  Canada,  New  Zealand,  and  Australia,  in  spite 
of  many  obstacles,  the  unhealthiuess  of  the  climate,  and  the  variety 
of  the  dialects  spokeu,  have  upwards  of  3000  natives  receiving 
Christian  teaching,  800  communicants,  and  100  native  teachers. 
On  the  islands  of  Banks,  Santa  Cruz,  and  Solomon,  the  English 
Episcopal  Church  is  achieving  no  1  i  ttle  success,  sending  native  youths 
for  months  at  a  time  to  Norfolk  Island  to  receive  instruction,  whence 
they  retuni  again  in  order  to  spread  the  knowledge  of  truth  at  home. 
These  islands  will  ever  be  famous  in  connexion  with  the  martyr 
death  of  the  noble  Bishop  Patteson. 

The  l/jt civilized  Peoples  of  America. — The  quiet  humble  labours 
of  the  Sloravians  have  accomjilished  much  in  Greenland  and 
Labrador,  whilst  among  the  Indians  of  Canada  and  tlie  people  of 
Hudson's  Bay  the  Society  for  the  Propagation  of  the  Gosi)el  has 
not  laboured  in  vain,  nor  the  Church  Jlissionary  Society  in  the 
dioceses  of  Rupcrtslaud,  Red  River,  Saskatchewan,  and  Moosonet. 
At  Columbia,  on  the  coast  of  the  Pacific,  a  practical  missionary  genius 
named  William  Duncan  has  succeeded  in  ci%'ilizin"  a  body  of  Indiana 
degraded  by  cannibalism,  and  at  his  Metlakahtla  mission  stands 
at  the  head  of  a  community  of  some  thousand  persons,  which  has  a 
larger  church  than  is  to  be  found  between  there  and  San  Fraucisco. 
Testimony  to  the  value  of  the  results  achieved  was  borne  in  1878 
by  Lord  Dufforin,  then  governor-general  of  Canada,  who  declareil 
tliat  he  could  hanily  find  words  to  express  his  astonishment  at  what 
he  witnessed.  Amongst  the  Indian  tribes  of  the  United  StatM 
work  is  carried  on  by  the  Moravians,  tho  American  Board  of  Missions, 
the  Prcsbvterians  of  the  North  and  South,  the  Baptists,  the  Eyia- 
copal  Metliodists,  and  the  American  Missionary  Society  ;  and  the 
result  is  that  27,000  Indians,  divided  amongst  tho  171  communitief 
of  different  denominations  (including  the  Roman  Catholic)  are  in  full 
membership  witli  tho  church,  and  have  219  places  of  worship, 
besides  366  schools  attended  by  about  12,222  Indian  children.  The 
Chorokccs,  the  Choctaws,  the  Creeks,  the  Chickasaws,  have  their 
own  churches,  schools,  and  academies,  and  may  compare  favourably 
both  intellectually  and  morally  with  their  white  neighbours  in 
]\lissouri,  Arkansas,  and  Texas.*  Amongst  the  negroes  in  the  United 
States  more  tlian  1000  places  of  worship  have  been  built  since  the 
last  war,  while  tho  American  Missionaiy  Association  alone  has 
erected  26  academics  with  about  6000  stutleuts,  for  the  purpose  o( 


■  Sec  Christliobi  Poreiyn  MiuionSf  p. 


'/Wd.,pp.  08, 


MISSION^S 


517 


preparing  freed  sltivei  to  be  teachers  and  missionaries.  Amongst 
the  Indians  oa  the  fissequibo  and  Berbice  in  British  Guiana,  the 
missions  of  the  Society  for  the  Propagation  of  the  Gospel  have  been 
rapidly  extended,  and  now  upwards  of  halt  the  Indian  population 
are  members  of  Christian  churches.  In  the  British  West  Indies, 
through  the  united  labours  of  various  missionary  societies,  out  of 
1,000,000  inhabitants  upwards  of  248,000  are  returned  as  regular 
membei-s  of  the  churches,  85,000  as  communicants,  while  78,600 
children  receive  instruction  in  1123  day  schools,  ofAvhich  number 
about  45,000  belong  to  Jamaica. 

Passing  to  the  southern  promontory  of  South  America,  we  find 
that  the  self-denying  labours  of  Allen  Gardiner  are  beginning  to 
justify  the  devotion  that  prompted  them.  The  London  South 
American  Missionary  Society  not  only  carries  on  its  operations  in 
the  Falkland  Islands,  where  youths  from  Tierra  del  Fuego  receive 
instruction,  but  has  founded  stations  in  Tierra  del  Fuego  itself,  has 
roused  the  natives  of  Patagonia  from  their  spiritual  deadness,  and 
has  extended  its  labours  even  to  the  Indians  in  Brazil. 

Africa.  — Here  there  are  three  great  regions  of  missionary  activity, 
— on  the  west  coast,  in  the  south,  and  in  some  parts  of  the  east. 

The  largest  and  most  fruitful  mission  field  in  "West  Africa  is 
that  of  SieiTa  Leone,  where  at  least  seven-eighths  of  the  people 
are  now  Christians,  though  the  first  mission  does  not  date  further 
back  than  the  present  century;'  and  important  results  have  also 
been  obtained  iu  Senegambia  (on  the  Pon^as),  in  Old  Calabar,  and 
in  the  republic  of  Liberia.  On  the  Gold  and  Slave  Coasts  the 
labours  of  English  Wosleyan  missionaries  and  of  the  North  German 
missionary  societies  have  been  crowned  with  no  small  success,  while 
the  Basel  Society,  which  celebrated  its  jubilee  in  1878,  has  extended 
its  sphere  of  activity  to  Ashaatee,  translating  the  Scriptures  into 
the  native  languages,  and  changing  primeval  marshes  into  bright- 
looking  Christian  villages.  In  the  Yoruba  lands  the  Church 
Missionary  Society  has  11  stations,  5994  Christians,  and  1657 
scholare,  while  on  the  Niger  we  are  confronted  with  the  interesting 
spectacle  of  negro  preachers  and  teachei-s  labouring  under  the 
coloured  Bishop  Crowther,  carrying  on  a  work  which  within  the 
last  few  years  was  consecrated  by  the  blood  of  martyrs. 

South  Africa  lias  for  some  time  been  a  centre  of  missionary 
activity.  Here  thirteen  British  aud  Continental  associations  have 
proved  that  all  the  South  African  races,  Hotteutots  and  Kaffres, 
Fingoes  and  Bechuanas,  Basutos  and  Zulus,  are  capable  of  attaining 
a  considerable  degree  of^  Christian  civilization,  and  can  not  only  be 
instructed  in  handicraft  and  agriculture,  but  trained  as  ministers 
and  teachers.  A  single  instance  of  this  is  afforded  in  British 
EafTraria  by  the  Lovcdale  Institute  of  the  Free  Church  of  Scotknd, 
where  youths  from  all  the  above-mentioned  tribes  are  taught  along 
with  Europeans,  and  every  Sunday  sixty  students  proclaim  the 
gospel  in  the  neighbouring  villages.  In  the  cause  of  mission  work 
here  few  ever  laboured  more  zealously  than  the  late  Bishop  Gray, 
whose  diocese,  when  first  constituted,  included  the  whole  colony 
of  the  Cape,  but  whose  successor  has  now  for  his  suffragans  the 
bishops  of  Grahamstown,  Itaritzburg,  St  Helena,  Bloemfontein, 
Zululand,  St  John's,  and  Pretoria. 

East  and  East  Central  Africa,  so  long  neglected,  is  now  being 
rapidly  occupied  by  missionary  enterprise.  Here  the  island  of 
Madagascar  has  been  in  gi-eat  part  evangelized,  while  on  the  island 
of  Mauritius  the  Anglican  Mission  has  developed  pre-eminent 
results.  On  the  mainland,  the  coast  of  Zanzibar  calls  for  special 
notice.  Here  the  little  island  of  the  same  name  has  long  been  the 
seat  of  the  Universities  Mission  to  Central  Africa,  and  the  heroic 
Bishop  Steere  has  not  only  erected  a  cathedral  on  the  site  of  the 
former  slave-mai'ket,  but  translated  the  New  Testament  into 
Sawahili,  a  language  which  can  be  understood  by  the  tribes  around 
the  lakes,  and  even  in  Uganda. 

Cliina. — "0  mighty  fortress!  when  shall  these  impenetrable 
brazen  gates  of  thine  be  broken  through?"  was  the  mournful 
exclamation  of  Valignani,  the  successor  of  Xavier,  as  he  gazed  in 
sadness  at  the  mountains  of  China.  The  words  well  express  the 
incredible  difficulties  which  this  largest  and  most  thickly  peopled 
heathen  land  in  the  world,  with  its  petrified  constitution  and 
culture  of  three  thousand  years,  presents  in  the  way  of  missionary 
effort.  The  country  itself,  the  people,  their  speech,  their  manners, 
their  religion,  their  policy,  seemed  to  unite  in  opposing  an  insuper- 
able barrier,  but  history  has  to  record  how  efforts  have  been  made 
by  many  bodies,  and  at  many  times,  to  break  it  down.  An  early 
Nestorian  Church  established  itself  in  the  empire,  but  was  either 
uprooted,  or  died  out  in  course  of  time.  In  the  16th  century  the 
Jesuits  undertook  the  task,  and  in  spite  of  the  persecutions  which 
they  have  undergone  the  missions  of  the  Koman  Church,  with  their 
numerous  foreign  clergy  and  their  hosts  of  natives  of  different 
,  ecclesiastical  degrees,  have  attained  no  small  measure  of  success. 
Before  the  country  was  really  opened  to  foreigners  by  the  treaty 
of  Tientsin,  pioneers  proceeded  thither  from  America,  and  from 
&e  London  Missionary  Society.  The  labours  of  Dr  Legge 
in  translating  and   reducing  to  system  the  Chinese  classics  are 


>  See  Lljhtfoot,  ir>:int  and  Modern  MUiicni,  p.  10. 


well  known.  At  the  present  day  it  is  estimated  that  there  are 
upwards  of  29  societies  at  work  in  the  country,  with  about  250 
ordained  missionaries  and  63  female  teachers,  aud  the  number  is 
constantly  increasing.  These  societies,  of  which  the  largest  pro- 
portion belong  to  England,  aud  the  next  largest  to  America,  support, 
it  is  estimated,  20  theological  schools,  30  higher  boarding  schools 
for  boys  with  611  scholars,  38  for  giris  with  777  scholars,  177  day 
schools  for  boys  with  4000  to  5000  pupils  in  attendance,  82  for  girls 
with  1307,  whUe  16  missionary  hospitals  and  24  dispensaries  are 
under  the  direction  of  medical  missionaries,  whose  work  in  China  haa 
been  recognized  almost  from  the  first  as  the  source  of  the  greatest 
blessing.  The  mission  centres  stud  the  east  coast  from  Hong  Kong 
and  Canton  to  the  frontiers  of  Manchuria  in  the  north  ;  thence 
they  advance  little  by  little  every  year  into  the  interior,  while  as 
yet  the  western  provinces  are  scarcely  touched  by  missionary  efforl 
The  literary  labours  of  the  various  societies  have  been  carried  on 
with  the  utmost  perseverance ;  and  on  the  foundations  laid  by  a 
Morrison  and  a  Milne  later  toilers  have  been  enabled  to  raise  a 
superstructure  of  translations  of  various  portions  of  the  Bible,  as 
well  as  various  Christian  books  and  religious  and  general  periodicals 
which  constitute  a  means  of  vast  importance  towards  gradually 
gaining  over  this  land  of  culture.  At  Peking  a  Russian  mission 
has  been  labouring  for  more  than  one  hundred  and  fifty  years. 
The  Society  for  the  Propagation  of  the  Gospel  and  the  Chorch 
Missionary  Society  have  lately  opened  up  new  centres  in  this 
almost  limitless  country.'  -; 

Japan. — Of  the  missions  in  Japan  it  is  as  yet  too  early  to  fore- 
cast the  futiure.  The  signing  of  the  commercial  treaties  of  1854 
and  1858  with  America  and  England  was  followed  in  1859  by 
efforts  on  the  part  of  the  American  churches  to  extend  a  knowledge 
of  Christianity,  and  in  these  Bishop  Williams,  an  accomplished 
Japanese  scholar,  proved  himself  a  valuable  leader  and  guide. 
Soon  afterwards  other  societies  found  their  way  into  the  countiy, 
and  in  March  1872  the  first  Japanese  congiegation,  of  11  converts, 
was  constituted  in  Yokohama.  Within  tne  last  eight  years  these 
11  have  increased  to  1200,  while  the  American  missions  have  been 
supplemented  by  those  of  the  Church  Missionary  Society  and  the 
Society  for  the  Propagation  of  the  Gospel.  Nearly  every  mission 
has  what  may  be  called  a  high  school  for  girls,  and  these  institu- 
tions are  very  popular.  Thousands  of  copies  also  of  the  Gospels 
have  been  circulated  in  Japanese,  aud  representatives  of  nearly  all 
the  missions  are  engaged  in  translating  the  entire  New  Testament, 
while  a  Russo-Greek  mission  has  established  itself  in  the  north,  and 
is  advancing  steadily,  having  already  made  about  3000  converts.* 
Thus,  when  it  is  considered  that  in  the  beginning  of  the  17th 
century  the  Japanese  Government  drove  out  the  Portuguese  and 
massacred  the  native  Catholic  converts,  and  prohibited  all  Christians 
under  pain  of  death  from  ever  setting  foot  in  the  country,  and  when 
it  is  borne  in  mind  that  many  of  these  old  laws  against  Chiistianity 
have  not  yet  beeu  repealed  aud  that  the  old  distrust  of  strangers  is 
still  plainly  disccruible  among  the  governing  classes,  it  is  clear  that, 
while  there  is  much  ground  for  hope,  effectual  results  can  only  be 
the  work  of  time. 

I-ndia. — What  is  tnie  of  China  and  Japan  applies  with  tenfold 
force  to  India.  Here  the  results  achifved  resemble  those  wliich  were 
attained  in  the  conflict  between  Christianity  and  the  religion  of  old 
pagan  Rome,  with  its  mass  of  time-honoured  customs  interwoven 
with  the  literature,  institutions,  and  history,  of  the  empire. 
Against  the  influence  of  presrige  and  settled  prejudice  the  wave  of 
the  gospel  beat  for  centuiies  iu  vain.  Slowly  and  gi-adually  it  was 
undermining  the  fabric,  but  no  striking  results  were  immediately 
visible.  So  also  in  India  with  the  Hiudu  jiroper  Christianity  has 
hitherto  made  inappreciable  progj-css,  while  among  the  mile 
aboriginal  or  non-Aryan  tribes  its  success  has  been  remarkable. 
IndeiJendeutly  of  Koman  Catholic  missions  upwards  of  twenty-eight 
societies  are  earnestly  engaged  in  the  English  mission  field,  and  the 
following  figm*es  will  give  some  idea  of  the  progi'ess  that  has  been 
made  during  tlie  last  twenty  or  thirty  yeare.  In  British  India, 
including  Bunnah  and  Ceylon,  it  is  estimated  that  in  1852  there 
were  22,400  communicants  and  128,000  native  Christians  young 
and  old;  in  1862  these  had  increased  to  49,681  communicants  and 
213,182  native  ChrisriaHs;  in  1872  there  had  been  a  further  in- 
crease to  78,494  communicants  and  318,363  narive  Christians,  while 
in  1878  the  latter  figures  rose  to  460,000.  When  we  look  at  the 
share  that  each  of  the  societies  has  had  iu  this  increase,  we  find 
that  the  Societ)-  for  the  Propagation  of  the  Gospel  and  the  Church 
Missionary  Society  together  have  since  1850  increased  in  member- 
ship from  61,442  to  upwards  of  164,000;  the  London  Missionary 
Society  from  20,000  to  upwards  of  48,000  ;  the  Presbyterian 
missions  of  Scotland,  England,  Ireland,  and  America  from  800  to 
10,000  ;  the  Basel  mission  in  India  from  1000  to  6805  ;  the  Baptist 
missionary  societies  (including  the  American  as  well  as  the  English) 
from  30,000  to  90,000  ;  the  five  Lutheran  societies  from  3316  to 
about  42,000.     In  some  places  the  jirogress  made  has  been  excen-' 

=  Tlie  Roman  Catholic  Mission  hail  404,530  convertj  to  China  In  1676.  ^im 
jcarly  increase  of  about  2000. 
'  ChrUtlleb,  Foreign  Mistioiu.  p.  222. 


518 


M  I  S  —  M  I  S 


(lonr'tlj  rapid.  In  Cuddapuh,  e.g.,  in  the  Telugu  tcrntory,  ths 
J^ciety  for  the  Propa^tion  of  tlio  Gospel  and  the  London  Mission- 
ary Society  laboured  side  by  side  for  upwards  of  thirty  years  without 
winning  over  more  than  200  converts.  Then  on  a  eudden  there 
sprang  up  a  revival  among  the  non-caste  population,  and  the  200 
became  nearly  11,000.  Among  the  Kols,  after  five  years'  waiting, 
the  Gossner  missionaries  baptised  their  first  convei-ts  in  1850;  now 
in  the  German  and  English  stations  together  these  amount  to  about 
40,000.  Since  the  famine,  however,  in  1873-79,  the  increase  of  new 
converts  has  been  still  more  rapid,  and  the  practical  experience  of 
the  superiority  of  Christian  pity  to  heathen  selfishness  and  of  the 
helplessness  of  their  heathen  deities,  united  mth  the  effect  produced 
by  persistent  missionaiy  labour  in  past  ye^rs,  brought  thousanda 
into  the  fold  of  the  chmxh.  Thus  in  the  Tinnevelly  district,  where 
the  Church  Missionary  Society  carries  on  its  operations,  upwards  of 
11,000  heathens  applied  In  1878  to  Bishop  Sargent  and  his  nr.tive 
clergy  for  instruction  preparatory  to  baptism.^  In  the  same  district, 
in  connexion  with  the  Society  for  the  Propagation  of  the  Gospel, 
between  July  1877  and  the  end  of  June  1878  upwards  of  23,564 
persons  betook  themselves  to  Bishop  Caldwell  and  his  fellow- 
labourors  for  Christian  teaching.  Thus  the  English  Church  mis- 
sions in  Tinnevelly  and  Eamnad  received  in  little  more  than  a  year 
and  a  holf  an  increase  of  35,000  souls, ^  and  the  Propagation  Society 
is  no\v  proclaiming  the  gospel  in  nearly  sis  hundred  and  fifty 
villages  in  the  Tinnevelly  district,  amcngst  not  merely  food-seeking 
"rice  Christians"  but  those  who  have  had  the  courage  to  face  severe 
persecution  for  joining  the  Christian  church.  Encouraging  progress 
has  also  been  made  among  the  Santals  and  the  Karens  in  Burmah 
and  Pegu.  Speaking  generally,  it  may  be  said  that  the  largest 
proportion  of  native  converts  is  in  the  south,  in  the  presidency  of 
Madras ;  next  to  southern  India  the  most  fruitful  field  is  Burmah, 
where  the  American  Baptist  missions  are  carrying  on  a  successful 
work  among  the  Karens,  while  the  Propagation  Society  has  founded 
many  schools  on  the  Irawadi,  and  penetrated  up  to  Rangoon,  and 
beyond  British  territory  to  Mandalay;  next  in  point  of  numbers  stand 
Bengal  and  the  North- West  Provinces.  Here  the  largest  contingent 
is  supplied  by  the  missions  in  Chutia  Nagpur,  among  the  aboriginal 
tribes  of  the  Kols,  while  the  Santal  mission  also  presents  many 
promising  features.  For  the  Punjab  district  and  that  of  Sind, 
the  Church  Missionary  Society  has  planted  in  Lahore  a  flourishing 
theological  seminary  for  Christian  Hindus,  Sikhs,  and  Mohammed- 
ans, and  Christianity  has  advanced  thence  by  way  of  Peshawar 
into  Afghanistan  and  Kashmir.  It  thus  appears  that  by  far  the 
greatest  measure  of  success  has  been  obtained  amongst  the  aboriginal 
races  and  those  who  are  either  of  low  caste  or  of  no  caste  at  all, 
while  the  real  strongholds  of  the  Hindu  religion  and  civilization 
still  stand  out  like  strong  fortresses  and  defy  the  attempts  of  the 
besiegers.  Still  the  disintegrating  agency  of  contact  with  Christi- 
anity is  working  out  its  slow  but  sure  results.  "  Statistical  facts," 
writes  Sir  Bartle  Frere,  "  can  in  no  way  convey  any  adequate  idea 
of  the  work  done  in  any  part  of  ludia.  The  effect  is  often  enormous 
where  there  has  not  been  a  single  avowed  conversion.  The  teaching 
of  Christianity  amongst  160  millions  of  civilized  industrious  Hindus 
and  Mohammedans  in  India  is  effecting  changes,  moral,  social,  and 
political,  which  for  este»nt  and  rapidity  in  effect  are  far  more  extra- 
ordinary than  any  that  have  been  witnessed  in  modem  Europe." 
"The  number  of  actual  converts  to  Christianity  in  India,"  says 
Lord  Lawrence,  "does  not  by  any  means  give  an  adequate  result 
of  missionary  labours.  There  are  thousands  of  persons  scattered 
over  India  who  from  the  knowledge  they  have  acquired  either 
directly  or  indirectly  through  dissemination  of  Christian  truth 
and  Christian  principles  have  lost  all  belief  in  Hinduism  and 
Mohammedanism,  and  are  in  their  conduct  influenced  by  higher 
motives,  who  yet  fear  to  make  an  open  profession  of  the  change 
in  them  lest  they  should  bo  looked  upon  as  outcasts  and  lepers 
by  their  own  people."  To  some  such  a  negative  result  may  at 
first  sight  appear  discouraging ;  but,  read  by  the  light  of  history, 
it  laarks  p  natural,  almost  a  necessary,  stage  of  transition  from 
an  ancient  historical  religion  to  Christianity.  The  Brahma  Somaj 
is  not  the  first  instance  where  a  system  too  vague  and  shadowy 
and  too  deficient  in  the  elements  of  a  permanent  religion  has 
filled  the  interval  between  the  abandonment  of  the  old  and  the 
acceptance  of  a  new  faith.  The  cultured  classes  amongst  the 
GreeKS  and  Romans  experienced  in  their  day,  after  the  popular 
mythology  had  ceased  to  satisfy,  a  period  of  semi-scepticism  before 
Christianity  had  secured  its  hold.  Meantime  in  India  the  indirect 
a'-enciea  which  are  at  work — the  results  of  war  and  conquest,  of 
E^uropean  science  and  European  literature,  of  the  telegraph  and 
tho  railway,  the  l)ook  and  the  newspaper,  the  college  and  the  school, 
the  change  of  laws  hallowed  by  immemorial  usage,  the  disregard  of 
time-honoured  prejudices,  tho  very  presence  of  Europeans  in  all 
parts  of  the  country— all  these  vanous  influences  are  gradually 
bringing  about  results  analogous  to  that  to  which  Sir  James  Mack- 
intosh referred  in  a  conversation  with  Henry  Martyn,  when  tho 


'  Abstract  of  Church  Missionary  r^ocidy's  Rqycrt  for  1879,  p.  13. 
*  Paport  of  the  Propagation  Socict]/ for  1879,  p.  31  cq. 


Oriental  world  waa  made  Greek  by  the  Buccessors  of  Alexander  Sn 
order  to  make  way  for  the  religion  of  Christ.  But  when  to  these 
indirect  influences  we  add  the  effects  of  direct  missionary  instmo- 
tion,  of  training  schools  like  those  of  the  Free  Church  of  Scotland 
in  Madras,  of  Bishop  Sargent  in  Tinnevelly,  of  Bishop  Cotton  in 
the  North- West  Provinces,  of  Zenana  missions  now  earned  on  on  aii 
extensive  scale  amongst  the  female  population,  of  the  numerons 
missionary  presses  at  work  circulating  thousands  of  copies  of  the 
Holy  Scriptures  and  of  Christian  books,  it  is  obvious  that,  small 
and  insignificant  as  these  agencies  may  seem  compared  with  tho 
magnitude  of  the  work  required  to  be  done,  there  has  been  a 
great  advance  made  during  recent  years.  The  present  century 
of  missions  may  favourably  compare  with  the  primitive  and 
mediceval  ages  of  the  church,  and  the  continuity  of  the  missionary 
spirit  operating,  as  we  have  seen,  after  long  periods  of  stagnation 
and  depression  is  the  best  guarantee  of  its  udtimate  and  more  com- 
plete success  at  the  close  ofthe  present  epoch,  during  which,  to  use 
£arl  Ritter's  expression,  "almost  all  the  rivers  of  the  earth  have 
begun  to  run  in  double  currents,  and  nearly  all  the  seas  and  rivers 
have  become  the  seas  and  rivers  of  civilization."  (G.  F;  M.)    i 

MISSISSIPPI  The  territory  drained  by  the  Missis- 
sippi river  and  its  tributaries  includes  the  greater  part 
of  the  United  States  of  America  lying  between  the  Alle- 
ghany Mountains  on  the  east  and  the  Kocky  Mountains 
on  the  west,  and  has  an  area  (1,244,000  square  miles)  con- 
siderably larger  than  all  central  Europe.  The  central  artery 
through  which  the  drainage  of  this  region  passes  is  called 
the  Mississippi  river  for  about  1300  miles  above  its  mouth. 
The  name  is  then  usurped  by  a  tributary,  while  the  main 


The  Mississippi  &nd  its  Tiibutaries. 
stream  becomes  known  aa  the  Missouri.  From  its  remote 
sources  in  tho  Rocky  Mountains  to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico 
the  total  length  of  the  river  is  about  4200  miles.  The 
other  principal  tributaries  are  the  Ohio,  the  Arkansas,  and 
the  Red  River,  but  the  Yazoo  and  the  St  Francis  oftea 
make  dangerous  contributions  in  seasons  of  flood. 

The  tables  given  below  exhibit  the  hydraulic  features 
of  the  Mississippi  and  its  principal  tributaries. 

Below  the  influx  of  the  Ohio  the  Mississippi  traverses 
alluvial  bottom  lands  liable  to  overflow  in  flood  seasons. 
The  soil  is  of  inexhaustible  fertility,  producing  large  crops 
of  com  in  the  northern  portion,  cotton  in  the  middle  dis- 
trict, and  sugar,  rice,  and  orange  groves  near  tho  mouth. 
ITiese  bottom  lands,  averaging  about  40  miles  in  width, 
extend  from  north  to  south  for  a  distance  of  500  miles, 
having  a  general  southern  slope  of  8  inches  to  the  mile. 
The  river  winds  through  them  in  a  devious  course  for  1100 
miles,  occasionally  on  tho  east  side  washing  blufis  from  100 
to  300  feet  in  height,  but  usually  confined  by  baiikB  of  its 
own  creation,  wluch,  as  ^vith  til!  so.dimont-beaaing  rivers 
of  like  character,  are  highest  near  tho  stream  itselt  The 
general  lateral  slope  towards  the  foot  hills  Ls  about  6  inches 


ISSISSIPPI 


519 


in  6000  feet,  but  the  normal  fall  in  the  first  mile  is  about 
V  feet.  Thus  apparently  following  a  low  ridge  through  the 
bottom  lands,  the  tawny  sea  sweeps  onward  with  great 
velocity,  eroding  its  banks  in  the  bends  and  rebuilding 
them  on  the  points,  now  forming  islands  by  its  deposits, 
and  now  removing  them  as  the  direction  of  the  flow  is 
modified  by  the  never-ending  changes  in  progress.  Chief 
among  such  changes  is  the  formation  of  cut-offs.  Two 
eroding  bends  gradually  approach  each  other  until  the  water 
forces  a  passage  across  the  narrow  neck.  As  the  channel 
distance  between  these  bends  may  be  many  miles,  a  cascade 
perhaps  5  or  6  feet  in  height  is  formed,  and  the  torrent 
rushes  through  with  a  roar  audible  for  miles.  The  banks 
dissolve  like  sugar.  In  a  single  day  the  course  of  the  river 
is  changed,  and  steamboats  pass  where  a  few  hours  before 
the  plough  had  been  at  work.  The  checking  of  the  current 
at  the  upper  and  lower  mouths  of  the  abandoned  channel 
soon  obstructs  them  by  deposit,  and  forms  in  a  few  years 
one  of  the  characteristic  crescent  lakes  which  are  so  marked 
a  feature  on  the  maps. 


The  total  area  of  the  bottom  lands  is  about  32,000 
square  miles,  of  which  only  a  narrow  strip  along  the 
immediate  banks  of  the  main  river  and  of  its  principal 
bayous  and  tributaries  has  even  yet  been  brought  under 
cultivation.  A  proper  system  of  protection  against  overflow 
would  throw'  open  2,500,000  acres  of  rich  sugar  land, 
7,000,000  acres  of  the  best  cotton  land  in  the  world,  and 
1,000,000  acres  of  corn  land  of  unsurpassed  fertility. 

The  work  of  embankment  began  in  1717,  when  the 
engineer  De  la  Tour  erected  a  dyke  or  levee  1  mile  long  to 
protect  the  infant  city  of  New  Orleans  from  overflow. 
Progress  at  first  was  slow.  In  1770  the  settlements 
extended  only  30  miles  above  and  20  miles  below  New 
Orleans ;  but  by  1828  the  levees,  although  quite  insufficient 
in  dimensions,  had  become  continuous  nearly  to  the  mouth 
of  Red  River.  In  1850  a  great  impulse  was  given  to 
systematic  embankment  by  the  U.S.  Government,  which 
gave  over  to  the  several  States  all  unsold  swamp  and  over- 
flowed lands  within  their  limits  to  provide  a  fund  for  re- 
claiming the  districts   liable  to  inundation.     The  action 


Trii:Uarks  of  the  Loiccr  Missiaaippi. 


Mouth. 

Eleration 
atoya  Sea. 

Width 
between 
Banks. 

MUes. 

2,908 

2,824 

2,644 

1,894 

842 

484 

0 

1,330 

998 

668 

310 

0 

1,265 

975 

615 

0 

1,514 

1,289 

992 

622 

250 

0 

1,200 

820 

330 

0 

Feet. 
8,800? 
4,319 
2,845 
2,188 
1,065 
766 
881 

1,680 

1,290 

670 

60S 

881 

1,649 
699 
432 
275 

10,000 

8,672 

1,658 

418 

.252 

162 

2,450 
641 
180 

64 

Feet. 

1,500 
1,500 
2,600 
3,000 
3,000 

120 
1,200 
5,000 
5,000 

i,'2bo 
3,66o 

150 
6,000 
6,000 
1,500 
1,500 
1,600 

2,000 

2,000 

800 

800 

Missouri — 

Source 

Three  Forks 

Fort  Benton 

Fort  Union 

Sioux  City. 

St  Joseph 

Mouth 

Upper  Mississippi- 

Source  

Swan  River 

St  Pnu] 

Rock  Island 

Mouth 

Ohio— 

Coudersport 

Pittsburg 

Cincinnati 

Mouth 

Arkansas — 

Source 

Cent's  Fort 

Great  Bend 

Fort  Smith 

Little  Rock 

Month 

};cd  River— 

Ne.ir  source 

Preston 

Shreveport 

Mouth 


75,000 
75,000 


100,000 
100,000 
100,000 


60,000 

isoiboo 


70,000 
70,000 
70,000 


40,000 
40,000 


Area  of  basin,  618,000  square  miles;  rainfall,  20'9 
inches;  annual  discharge,  S^^jpj  billions  [t.c, 
3,780,000,000,000]  cubic  feet  ;  ratio  between 
drainage  and  rainfall,  -f^;  mean  discharge  per 
second,  120,000  cubic  feet. 


Area  of  basin,  169,000  square  miles;  rainfall,  35'2 
inches ;  annual  discharge,  3A  billions  cubic 
feet ;  ratio  between  drainage  and  rainfall,  ^  ; 
mean  discharge  per  second,  105,000  cubic  feet. 

Area  of  basin,  214,000  square  miles;  rainfall,  ^'6 
inches  ;  annual  discharge,  6  billions  cubic  fret ; 
ratio  between  drainage  and  rainfall,  -f^;  mean 
discharge  per  second,  158,000  cubic  feet. 


Area  of  basin,  189,000  square  miles;  rainfall,  293 
inches ;  annual  discharge,  2  billions  cubic  feet ; 
ratio  between  drainage  and  rainfall,  -f^;  mean 
discharge  per  second,  63,000  cubic  feet 


Area  of  basin,  97,000  square  miles;  rainfall,  39 
inches ;  annual  discharge,  l-f,  billions  cubic  feet ; 
ratio  between  drainage  and  rainfall,  -p^-^ ;  mean 
discbarge  per  second,  67,000  c\ibic  feet. 


The  LoKa-  lfississi]>pi. 


Water         Fall  per 
Elevation  MUc. 

above  Sea. 


Least  Low 
Tntci-  Bcptli 
upon  the 


Area  of  Cross 

Section  at 
High  Water. 


Mouth  of  Missouri . 

St  Louis 

Cairo 

Columbus 

ilcmphis 

Gaines  landing 

Xntchez. 

Red  River  landing. . 

Baton  Rouge 

Donalilsouville 

CarroUton 

Fort  St  Philip 

Head  of  Passes 

Gulf 


Miles. 

1,286 

1,270 

1,097 

1,076 

872 

647 

378 

316 

245 

193 

121 

37 

17 


Feet. 

416-0 

408-0 

322-0 

310-0 

221-0 

149-0 

65-0 

49-5 

33-9 

25-8 

15-2 

6-2 

2-9 


Feet 

0-500 
0-497 
0-571 
0  436 
0-320 
0-309 
0-266 
0-220 
0-156 
0-147 
0-119 
0115 
0171 


4,470 


2,470 


6-0 
6  0 


37-0 
51-0 
47-0 
40-0 

51-0 
44-3 
31  1 


191,000 

199,000 
200,000 
199,000 


Drainage  area, 
1,244,000  •  square 
mile^  rainfall,  30-4 
inches;aiiuualdis- 
charge  (including 
three  outlet  bay- 
ous), 21r3'''l''ons 
of  cubic  feet :  ratio 
between  drainage 
and  rainfall,  ^i^; 
mcandischarge  per 
second,  675,000 
cubic  feet. 


.520 


ISSISSIPPI 


resulting  from  this  caused  alarm  in  Louisiana,  for  the  great 
bottom  lands  above  were  believed  to  act  as  reservoirs  to 
receive  the  highest  flood  wave  j  and  it  was  imagined  that 
if  they  were  closed  by  levees  the  lower  country  would 
be  overwhelmed  whenever  the  river  in  flood  rose  above 
its  natural  banks.  The  aid  of  the  Government  was  in- 
voked, and  Congress  immediately  ordered  the  necessary 
investigations  and  surveys.  This  work  was  placed  in 
charge  of  Captain  (now  General)  Humphreys,  and  an 
elaborate  report  covering  the  results  of  ten  years  of  investi- 
gation was  published  just  after  the  outbreak  of  the  civil 
war  in  1861.  The  second  of  the  tables  given  above,  and 
indeed  most  of  the  physical  facts  respecting  the  river,  are 
quoted  from  this  standard  authority. 

To  understand  the  figures  of  the  table  it  should  be  noted 
that  at  the  mouth  of  Red  River,  316  miles  above  the  passes, 
the  water  surface  at  the  lowest  stage  is  only  5-^  feet  above 
the  level  of  the  Gulf,  where  the  mean  tidal  oscillation  is 
about  1-j^  feet.  The  river  channel  in  this  section  is  there- 
fore a  freshwater  lake,  nearly  without  islands,  2600  feet 
wide  and  100  feet  deep  along  the  deepest  line.  At  the 
flood  stage  the  surface  rises  50  feet  at  the  mouth  of  Red 
River,  but  of  course  retains  its  level  at  the  Gulf,  thus  giving 
the  head  necessary  to  force  forward  the  increased  volume 
of  discharge.  Above  the  mouth  of  Red  River  the  case 
i.4  essentially  different.  The  width  increases  and  the  depth 
decreases ;  islands  become  numerous ;  the  oscUlation  be- 
tween high  and  low  water  varies  but  little  from  50  feet 
until  the  mouth  of  the  Ohio  is  reached — a  distance  of 
about  800  miles.  Hence  the  general  slope  in  long  distances 
is  here  nearly  the  same  at  all  stages,  and  the  discharge 
is  regulated  by  the  varying  resistances  of  cross  section,  and 
by  local  changes  in  slope  due  to  the  passage  of  flood  waves 
contributed  by  the  different  tributaries.  The  effect  of 
these  different  physical  conditions  appears  in  the  compara- 
tive volumes  which  pass  through  the  channel.  At  New 
Orleans  the  maximum  discharge  hardly  reaches  1,200,000 
cubic  feet  per  second,  and  a  rising  river  at  high  stages 
carries  only  about  100,000  cubic  feet  per  second  more  than 
when  falling  at  the  same  absolute  level ;  while  just  below 
the  mouth  of  the  Ohio  the  maximum  flood  volume  reaches 
1,400,000  cubic  feet  per  second,  and  at  some  stages  a 
rising  river  may  carry  one-third  more  water  than  when 
falling  at  the  same  absolute  level. 

/The  percentage  of  sedimentary  matter  carried  in  suspen- 
sion by  the  water  varies  greatly  at  different  times,  but  is 
certairdy  not  dependent  upon  the  stage  above  low  water. 
It  is  chiefly  determined  by  the  tributary  whence  the  water 
proceeds,  but  is  also  influenced  by  the  caving  of  the  banks, 
which  is  always  excessive  when  the  river  is  rapidly  falling 
after  the  spring  flood.  In  long  periods  the  sedimentary 
matter  is  to  the  water  by  weight  nearly  as  1  to  1500,  and 
by  bulk  as  1  to  2900.  The  amount  held  in  suspension 
and  annually  contributed  to  the  Gulf  constitutes  a  prism 
1  mile  square  and  2G3  feet  high.  In  addition  to  this 
amount  a  large  volume,  estimated  at  1  mile  square  and 
27  feet  high  annually,  is  pushed  by  the  current  along  the 
bottom  and  thus  transported  to  the  Gulf. 

The  mean  annual  succession  of  stages  for  long  periods 
is  quite  uniform,  but  so  many  exceptions  are  noted  that 
no  definite  prediction  can  safely  be  made  for  any  particular 
epoch.  The  river  is  usually  lowest  in  October.  It  rises 
rapidly  until  checked  by  the  freezing  of  the  northern 
tributaries.  It  begins  to  rise  again  in  February,  and  attains 
its  highest  point  about  the  1st  of  April.  After  falling  a  few 
fec-t  it  again  rises  until,  early  in  June,  it  attains  nearly  the 
same  level  as  before.  After  this  it  rapidly  recedes  to  low- 
water  mark.  As  a  rule  the  river  is  above  mid-stage  from 
January  to  August  inclusive,  and  below  that  level  for  the 
remainder  of  the  year. 


It  has  been  established  by  measurement  and  observatiotf 
that  the  great  bottom  lands  above  Red  River  before  the  con- 
struction of  their  levees  did  not  serve  as  reservoirs  to 
diminish  the  maximum  wave  which  passed  througk' 
Louisiana  in  great  flood  seasons.  They  had  already  become' 
filled  by  local  rains  and  by  water  escaping  into  them  from 
the  Mississippi  through  numerous  bayous,  so  that  at  the 
date  of  highest  water  the  discharge  into  the  river  near  their 
southern  borders  was  fully  equal  to  the  volume  which  the 
wave  had  lost  in  passing  along  their  fronts. 

In  fine,  the  investigations  between  1850  and  1860  estab- 
lished that  no  diversion  of  tributaries  was  possible  ;  that  no 
reservoirs  artificially  constructed  could  keep  back  the  spring 
freshets  which  caused  the  floods ;  that  the  makipg  of  cut- 
offs, which  had  sometimes  been  advocated  as  a  r/ieasure  of 
relief,  so  far  from  being  beneficial,  was  in  the  highest  degree 
injurious ;  that,  while  outlets  within  proper  limits  were 
theoretically  advantageous,  they  were  impracticable  from 
the  lack  of  suitable  sites ;  and,  finally,  that  levees  properly 
constructed  and  judiciously  placed  would  afford  protectioa 
to  the  entire  alluvial  region. 

Dm-iiig  the  civil  war  (1861-65)  the  artificial  embanjiments 
were  neglected  ;  but  after  its  close  large  sums  were  expended  by  the 
States  directly  interested  in  repairing  them.  The  work  was  done 
mthout  concert  upon  defective  plans,  and  a  great  flood  early  in 
1874  inundated  the  country,  causing  terrible  suffering  and  loss. 
Congress,  then  in  session,  passed  an  Act  creating  a  commisflion  of 
five  engineers  to  determine  and  report  on  the  best  system  for  the 
permanent  reclamation  of  the  entire  alluvial  region.  Their  report, 
rendered  in  1875,  endorsed  the  conclusions  of  that  of  1361,  and 
advocated  a  general  levee  system  en  each  bank.  This  system 
comprised — (1)  a  main  embankment  raised  to  specified  heights 
sufficient  to  restrain  the  floods;  and  (2),  where  reasonable  security 
against  caving  required  considerable  areas  near  the  river  to  be 
thrown  out,  exterior  levees  of  such  a  height  as  to  exclude  ordinary 
high  waters  but  to  allow  free  passage  to  great  floods,  which  as  a 
rule  only  occur  at  intervals  of  five  or  six  years.  The  back  country 
would  thus  be  securely  protected,  and  a  safe  refuge  would  be  pro- 
vided for  the  Inhabitants  and  domestic  animals  living  upon  the 
portion  subject  to  occasional  overflow.  An  engineering  organiza- 
tion was  proposed  for  constructing  and  maintaining  these  levees, 
and  a  detailed  topographical  survey  was  recommended  to  determine 
their  precise  location.  Congress  promptly  approved  and  ordered 
the  survey  ;  but  strong  opposition  on  constitutional  grounds  was 
raised  to  the  construction  of  the  levees  by  the  Government. 

In  the  meantime  complaints  began  to  be  heard  respecting  the 
low-water  navigation  of  the  river  below  the  mouth  of  the  Ohio. 
Forty-three  places  above  the  mouth  of  Red  River  aftorded  depths 
of  less  than  10  feet,  and  thirteen  places  depths  less  than  5  feet,  the 
aggregate  length  of  such  places  being  about  150  miles.  A  board 
of  five  army  engineers,  appointed  in  1878  to  consider  a  plan  of 
relief,  reported  that  10  feet  could  probably  be  secured  by  narrow- 
ing the  wide  places  to  about  3500  feet  with  hurdle  work,  brush 
ropes,  or  brush  dykes  designed  to  cause  a  deposit  of  sediment, 
and  by  protecting  caving  banks,  when  necessary,  by  such  light  and 
cheap  mattresses  as  experience  should  show  to  be  best  spited  to  the 
work.  Experiments  in  these  methods  were  soon  begun  upon  the 
river  above  Cairo,  and  have  since  proved  of  decided  benefit. 

In  June  1879  Congress  created  a  commission  of  seven  members 
to  mature  plans  to  correct,  permanently  determine,  and  deepen  the 
channel,  to  protect  the  banks  of  the  river,  to  improve  and  give 
safety  to  navigation,  to  prevent  destructive  floods,  and  to  promote 
and  facilitate  commerce,  tip  to  1882  appropriations  amounting 
to  £1,285,000  were  made  to  execute  the  plans  of  this  commission, 
but  with  provisos  that  none  of  the  funds  were  to  be  expended 
in  repairing  or  building  levees  for  the  protection  of  land  against 
overflow,  although  such  levees  might  be  constructed  if  necessary 
to  deepen  the  channel  and  improve  navigation.  Acting  under  this 
authority,  the  commission  have  allotted  considerable  sums  to  repair 
existing  breaks  in  the  levees;  but  their  chief  dependence- is  upon 
conti-acting  the  channel  at  low  water  by  promoting  lateral  deposits, 
and  upon  protecting  the  high-water  banks  against  caving  by  mats  of 
brush,  wire,  &c.,  ballasted  where  necessary  with  stoue, — substan- 
tially the  plans  proposed  by  the  army  board  of  1873. 

The  bars  at  the  efflux  of  the  passes  at  the  mouth  of  the  Mississippi 
have  long  been  recognized  as  serious  impediments  to  commerce. 
The  river  naturally  discharges  through  three  principal  branches,  the 
south-west  pass,  the  south  pass,  and  the  north-east  JJass,  the  latter 
through  two  channels,  the  most  northern  of  which  is  called  Pass  h 
rOutrc.  The  ruling  depth  on  the  several  bars  varies  with  the 
discharge  over  them,  which  in  turn  is  controlled  by  the  successive- 
advances  of  the  passes.     In  the  natural  condition  the  greateat 


MISSISSIPPI 


521 


depth  docs  not  u.tceed  19  or  13  feet.  Tho  first  appropriation  by 
Congress  to  secure  increased  deptli  was  made  in  1837,  and  was  ex- 
ponded  ia  an  elaborate  survey  and  in  a  system  of  dredging  by 
buckets,  bat  the  plan  of  a  ship  canal  was  also  discussed.  At  the 
next  appropriation,  made  in  1852,  a  board  of  officers,  appointed 
by  the  war  department,  recommended  trying  in  succession — (1) 
stirring  up  the  bottom  by  suitable  machinery,  (2)  dredging  by 
buckets,  (3)  constructing  parallel  jetties  5  liules  -long  at  the 
south-west  pass,  to  be  extended  as  found  necessary,  (4)  closing 
lateral  outlets,  and  (5)  constructing  a  ship  canaL  A  depth  of  18 
feet  was  secured  by  the  fii«t  plan,  and  was  maintained  until  the 
available  funds  were  exhausted.  Under  the  next  appropriation 
(1856)  an  abortive  attempt  was  made  to  apply  tho  plan  of  jetties 
to  the  south-west  pass.  This  failed  from  defects  in  execution  by 
the  contractors,  but  a  depth  of  18  feet  was  finally  secured  by  dredg- 
ing and  scraping.  The  report  of  1861  discussed  the  subject  of  bar 
formation  at  length.  Although  it  approved  the  plan  of  jetties  and 
closure  of  outlets  as  correct  in  theory,  the  stirring  up  of  the  bottom 
by  scrapers  during  the  flood  stages  of  the  river  (six  months  annually) 
was  recommended  by  it  as  the  most  economical  and  least  objection- 
able. After  the  war  this  recommendation  was  carried  into  effect 
for  several  years  with  improved  machinery,  giving  at  a  moderate 
aimual  cost  a  depth  at  times  reaching  20  feet  at  extreme  low  water, 
but  experience  indicated  that  not  much  mor»  than  18  feet  could  be 
steadily  maintained.  This  depth,  entirely  satisfactory  at  first,  soon 
became  insufficient  to  meet  the  growing  demands  of  commerce,  and 
in  1873  Major  Howell,  the  engineer  in  charge,  revived  the  pro- 
ject of  a  ship  canal.  The  subject  was  discussed  carefully  by  a  board 
of  army  engineers,  the  majority  approving  a  ship  canal.  In  1874 
Congress  constituted  a  special  board  which,  after  visiting  Europe 
and  examining  similar  works  of  improvement  there,  reported 
in  favour  of  constructing  jetties  at  the  south  pass,. substantially 
upon  the  plan  used  by  ilr  Caland  at  the  mouth  of  the  Meuse  ; 
and  in  March  1875  Captain  J.  B.  Eads  and  associates  were  authorized 
by  Congress  to  open  by  contoact  a  broad  and  deep  channel  through 
the  south  pass  upon  the  general  plan  proposed  by  this  board.  This 
contract  called  for  ' '  the  maintenance  of  a  channel  of  30  feet  in  depth 
and  350  feet  in  width  for  tv.-enty  yeai-s  "  by  "  the  construction  of 
thoroughly  substantial  and  permanent  works  by  which  said  channel 
may  be  maintained  for  all  time  after  their  completion."  The  jetties 
were  to  be  notless  than  700  feet  apart.  The  sum  of  £1,080,000  was 
to  be  paid  for  obtaining  this  channel,  and  £412,000  for  maintaining 
it  for  twenty  years.  In  addition,  tho  contractors  were  authorized  to 
use  any  materials  on  the  public  lands  suitable  for  and  needed  in  tho 
work.  The  south  pass  was  12^  miles  long.  It  had  an  average  width 
of  730  feet  and  a  minimum  interior  channel  depth  of  29  feet.  The 
distance  ii'om  the  30-foot  curve  inside  the  pass  across  the  bar  to 
the  30-foot  curve  outside  was  11,900  feet.  The  minimum  depth  at 
average  flood  tide  on  the  bar  was  about  3  feet.  The  discharge  at 
the  mouth  was  about  57,000  cubic  feet  of  water  per  second,  trans- 
porting annually  about  22  million  cubic  yards  of  sediment  in  sus- 
pension to  the  Gulf.  A  small  island  and  shoal  existed  at  the  head 
of  the  pass,  the  channel  there  having  a  minimum  depth  of  17  feet. 
The  work  was  begun  on  June  2,  1875,  and  has  been  so  far  success- 
ful that  during  the  year  ending  June  30, 1882,  a  channel  was  main- 
tained having  a  least  depth  of  30  feet  between  the  jetties  and  extend- 
ing through  the  bar.  Its  least  width  was  20  feet,  the  average 
being  105  feet  The  26-foofchannel  had  a  least  width  of  200  feet, 
except  for  a  few  days.  In  the  pass  itself  the  26-foot  channel  had 
a  least  width  of  50  feet.  A  very  powerful  dredge-boat  was  at  work 
between  and  beyond  the  jetties  87  days,  of  which  51  were  devoted 
to  tho  channel  in  the  Gulf.  A  deepening  of  6  feet  has  occurred 
in  Pass  k  I'Outre  near  its  head  since  1875.  Up  to  the  present 
time  the  work  has  proved  of  great  benefit  to  the  commerce  of  New 
Orleans. 
For  further  details,  see  Eiver  Engineering  (H.  L.  A. ) 

Hatev:.  mSSISSIPPI,  one  of  the  Southern  States  of  the 
American  Union,  derives  its  name  from  the  river  which 
for  more  than  500  miles  forms  its  western  boundary 
between  the  35th  and  31st  parallels  of  north  latitude, 
separating  it  from  Arkansas  and  Louisiana.  The  boundary 
with  the  latter  State  is  continued  along  the  31st  parallel, 
for  110  miles,  to  the  Pearl  river,  and  then  down  the  Pearl 
to  its  mouth.  The  Gulf  of  Mexico,  eastward  from  the 
mouth  of  Pearl  river,  completes  the  southern  boundary. 
On  the  north  the  35th  parallel,  from  the  Jlississippi  river 
to  the  Tennessee,  separates  the  State  from  Tennjssee,  and 
the  boundary  then  follows  the  latter  river  to  the  mouth 
of  Bear  Creek,  in  34°  53'  N.  lat.  and  88°  15'  W.  long. 
The  eastern  boundary  of  the  State,  separating  it  from 
Alabama,  follows  a  line  drawn  from  the  mouth  of  Bear 
Creek  about  seven  degrees  west  of   south   to  what  was 


"  the  north-western  comer  of  Washington  county  on  the 
Tombigbee,"  and  thence  due  south  to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico. 
Ship,  Horn,  Cat,  and  Petit  Bois  Islands,  and  those  nearer 
the  shore,  form  a  part  of  Mississippi.  The  extreme  length 
of  the  State,  north  and  south,  is  330  miles,  and  its 
maximum  breadth  is  188  miles.  Under  the  United  States 
surveys,  begun  in  1803,  the  State  has  been  divided  into 
townships  and  sections,  except  such  parts  as  were  at  the 
first  owned  by  individuals.  The  area  of  the  State  is  given 
in  the  census  reports  for  1880  as  46,340  square  miles. 

Topography. — There  are  no  mountains  in  Mississippi, 
but  a  considerable  difference  of  level  exists  between  the 
continuously  low,  flat,  alluvial  region  lying  along  and 
between  the  Mississippi  and  Yazoo  rivers,  called  "the 
Bottom,"  and  nearly  all  the  remainder  of  the  State,  which 
is  classed  as  upland.  The  latter  part,  comprising  five- 
sixths  of  the  whole,  is  an  undulating  plateau  whose  general 
elevation  above  the  water  of  the  Gulf  of  Mexico  increases 
to  150  feet  within  a  few  miles  of  the  coast,  and  varies 
elsewhere  from  150  to  500  or  600  feet.  Some  exceptional 
ridges  are  probably  800  feet  high.  The  streams  of  thi.n 
region  flow  in  valleys  varying  in  width  from  a  few  hundred 
yards  to  several  miles.  The  fall  of  each  river  is  not  great, 
and  is  quite  uniform.  Usually  a  considerable  part  of  the 
valley  of  each  larger  stream  is  several  feet  above  its  present 
high  water  mark,  and  forms  the  "  hommock,"  or  "  second 
bottom  "  lands.  On  some  of  the  rivers  the  lowest  part  of 
the  valley,  subject  to  overflow,  is  several  miles  in  width, 
and  bears  a  resemblance  to  the  Mississippi  Bottom 

Ridges  or  plateaus  everywhere  in  the  upland  region 
divide  the  contiguous  basins  of  creeks  and  rivers,  descending 
more  or  less  abruptly  to  their  valleys.  In  the  north-eastern 
part  of  the  State,  almost  level  prairies  cover  large  areas 
overlying  a  Cretaceous  formation  called  Rotten  Limestone. 

A  line  of  abrupt  bluffs,  extending  southward  from  the 
north-west  corner  of  the  State,  divides  the  upland  region 
from  the  Bottom,  where  the  general  surface  lies  below 
the  high-water  level  of  the  Mississippi  river.  A  few  low 
ridges,  running  north  and  south,  and  embracing  about 
200,000  acres,  are  barely  above  high  water.  The  culti- 
vated lauds  in  the  Bottom  lie  on  these,  and  on  the  borders 
of  the  rivers  and  the  numerous  lakes  and  bayous,  where 
the  surface  is  slightly  elevated.  Low  swamps  or  marshes, 
in  which  flourish  large  cypress  trees  (Taxodmm  distichum), 
lie  between  the  streams,  and  frequently  receive  the  surface 
drainage  from  their  banks.  Large  forest  trees  and  dense 
cane-brakes  (Arundinaria  gigantea)  occupy  the  drier 
ground.  The  Mississippi  river  is  prevented  from  flooding 
the  Bottom  during  high  water  by  a  system  of  levees  or 
embankments  built  by  a  fund  derived  partly  from  taxation 
on  the  land  and  partly  from  the  proceeds  of  tlie  sale  of 
public  lands  in  the  State  classsd  as  "  swamp  lands,"  which 
were  given  over  for  this  purpose  by  Congress.  The  only  com- 
pensation for  the  injury  done  when  breaks  in  the  levees 
("  crevasses  ")  occur  is  the  deposit  of  alluvial  matter  left  by 
the  overflow,  which  adds  to  the  productiveness  of  the 
already  wonderfully  fertile  soil.  The  present  levee  system 
usually  protects  about  one-fourth  of  the  4,000,000  acres 
in  the  Bottom.  Many  crescent-shaped  lakes  ("  cut-ofis  ") 
occur  in  the  Bottom.  Similar  phenomena  present  them- 
selves in  the  channels  of  the  other  rivers  having  wide 
bottoms. 

The  volume  of  water  in  the  streams  varies  greatly  during 
the  year,  and  is  usually  largest  between  the  months  of 
January  and  April.  During  high  water  all  the  larger 
streams  are  navigable  by  steamboats.  These  ply  upon  the 
Mississippi,  Tennessee,  and  Yazoo  rivers  throughout  the 
whole  year.  The  rivers  flowing  into  the  Gulf  are  macb 
obstructed  by  sand-bars,  and  are  chiefly  used  for  floating 
logs  to  the  saw-mills  on  the  coast. 

XVI.  —  66 


522 


ISSISSIPPI 


"Hie  best  and  only  deep  harbour  on  the  coast  is  the  well- 
protected  roadstead  inside  of  Ship  Island.  It  has  a  depth 
of  27  feet,  a  firm  clay  bottom,  and  is  readily  accessible  to 
lighters  from  the  shallower  harbours  along  the  coast. 

Climate. — Near  the  waters  of  the  Gulf  of  Mexico  the  clima*o  u 
mQch  milder  than  in  the  northern  jparta  of  the  State.  Oa  the 
aonthern  borders  the  temperature  rarely  falls  to  32"  Fahr. ,  or  exceeds 
96°,  the  annual  mean  being  about  68°.  The  orange,  lemon, 
almond,  baiiana,  and  olive  can  be  gi-own  without  protection.  In 
the  latitude  of  Vicksburg  the  temperature  ranges  from  98°  to  20°, 
Tery  rarely  lower  j  the  annual  mean  is  65°.  The  range  in  the 
northern  pai-t  of  the  State  is  from  98°  to  15°,  or  rarely  10  ,  and  the 
annual  mean  la  61°.  The  fiist  and  last  hoar-frosts  ocom-,  in  the 
central  parts'  of  the  State,  usually  in  the  latter  parts  of  October  and 
March.  The  ground  is  seldom  fro2en  to  the  depth  of  3  inches,  and 
only  for  a  few  days  at  a  time.  The  rainfall  on  the  coast  is  60  to  65 
inches  per  annum,  and  at  the  northern  boimdary  50  inches.  "While 
about  two-thirds  of  this  precipitation  occm-s  in  winter  and  spring, 
a  month  seldom  passes  without  several  inches  of  rainfall. 

Land  and  sea  breezes  in  the  south,  ;!ud  variable  winds  elsewhere, 
make  the  heat  of  summer  tolerable.  In  healthfulness  Mississippi 
compares  favourably  with  other  States.  The  average  death-rate  of 
thirteen  States,  variously  situated,  as  given  in  the  census  of  1880, 
is  1  '38  per  cent.  ;  that  of  Mississippi  is  1  -19  per  cent.  Where  the 
surface  is  flat  and  poorly  drained  malarial  fevei-s  are  prevalent  daring 
the  warm  season.  Yellow  fever  has  become  epidemic  after  importa- 
tion, but  strict  (^uarautine  has  been  successful  in  preventing  it. 

Geology.  — In  accordance  with  an  Act  of  the  legislature  passed  in 
1850,  an  agricultural  and  geological  survey  of  the  State  was  begun, 
which  contiiiued,  with  interruptions,  until  1871.  Two  reports  have 
been  published,  one  in  1854  and  another  in  1860. 

The  geological  structure  of  the  State  is  comparatively  simple, 
and  closely  related  to  that  of  the  adjacent  States.  The  older 
formations  are  nearly  all  overlaid  by  deposits  of  the  Quatei-nary 
period,  which  wUl  be  described  last.  In  the  extreme  north- 
eastern portion  are  found  the  oldest  rocks  in  the  State, — an  ex- 
tension of  the  Subcarboniferons  formation  which  underlies  the 
'Warrior  coal-fields  of  Alabama.  The  strata  here  show  some  traces 
of  the\  upheaval  which  formed  the  Appalachian  mountain  chain, 
whose  south-west  termination  is  found  in  Alabama.  "When  this 
chain  formed  the  Atlantic  mountain-border  of  the  continent,  except- 
ing this  north-east  comer,  Mississippi  had  not  emerged  from  the 
•waters  of  the  ancient  Gulf  of  Mexico.  As  the  shore-line  of  the 
Gulf  slowly  receded  southward  and  westward,  the  sediment  at  its 
bottom  gradually  came  to  the  surface,  and  constituted  the  Cretaceous 
and  Tertiary  formations  of  this  and  adjacent  States.  "Wherever 
stratification  is  observed  in  these  formations  in  Mississippi,  it 
shows  a  dip  west  and  south  of  20  or  30  feet  to  the  mile.  The 
Cretaceous  region  includes,  with  the  exception  of  the  Subcarboni- 
ferons, all  that  part  of  the  State  eastward  of  a  line  cutting  the 
Tennessee  boundary  in  89°  3'  "W.  long.,  and  drawn  southward 
and  eastward  through  the  towns  of  Kipley,  Pontotoc,  and  Stark- 
ville,  crossing  into  Alabama  in  latitude  32°  45'.  Four  groups  of 
Cretaceous  strata  have  been  determined  in  Mississippi,  defined  by 
lines  having  the  same  general  direction  as  the  one  just  described. 
The  oldest,  bordering  the  Subcarboniferous,  is  the  Eutaw  Oj: 
Cofiee  group,  characterized  by  bluish-black  or  reddish  laminated 
clays,  and  yellow  or  grey  sands,  containing  lignite  and  fossil  resin. 
"Westward  and  southward  to  the  city  of  Columbus  ia  the 
Tombigbee  sand  group,  consisting  chiefly  of  fine-grained  micaceous 
sands  of  a  greenish  tint,  with  many  marine  fossils.  Next  in 
order,  westward  and  southward,  is  the  Rotten  Limestone  group, 
made,  up  of  a  material  of  great  uniformity, — a  soft  chalky  rock, 
white  or  pale  blue,  composed  chiefly  of  tenacious  clay,  and  white 
carbonate  of  lime  in  minute  crystals.  Borings  show  the  total 
thickness  of  this  group  to  be  about  1000  feet.  Fossils  are  abundant, 
but  species  are  few.  The  latest  Cretaceous  is  the  Ripley  group, 
lying  west  of  the  northern  part  of  the  last-named  fTOup,  and 
characterized  by  hard  crystalline  white  limestones,  and  dark- 
coloured,  micaceous,  glauconitic  marls,  whose  marine  fossils  are 
admirably  preserved.  One  hundred  and  eighty  species  have  been 
described.  The  total  thickness  of  the  Cretaceous  is  abont  2000 
feet.  Deposits  of  the  Tertiary  period  form  the  basis  of  more  than 
half  the  State,  extending  from  the  border  of  the  Cretaceous  west- 
ward nearly  or  quite  to  the  Yazoo  and  Mississippi  Bottom,  and 
southward  to  within  a  few  miles  of  the  Gulf  coast.  Seven  groups 
of  the  Tertiary  strata  have  been  distinguished.  Beginning  nearest 
the  Cretaceous,  the  Flatwoods  group  is  characterized  by  grey  or 
white  clays,  and  a  soil  which  responds  poorly  to  tillage.  The 
Lagrange  group,  lying  to  vho  west  of  the  last,  is  marked  by  grey 
clays  and  sands,  fossil  plants,  and  beds  of  lignite  or  brown  coal, 
sometimes  8  feet  in  thiclcness.  Tlie  Buhrstono  group,  lying  soutb- 
westw.ird  from  the  last,  is  characterized  by  beds  of  white  siliceous 
clays,  and  of  silicified  shells,  and  sandy  strata  containing  glauconite 
in  valuable  quantities.  The  Claiborne  group  lies  south  of  the 
last,  and  is  slightly  developed  in  Mississippi,  but  well-marked  in 


Alabama.  The  Jackson  group,  sonth-west  of  tlia  last  two,  is 
made  up  chiefly  of  soft  yellowish  limestones  or  mark,  containing 
much  clay,  and  sandy  strata  with  glauconite.  Zenglodon  bones 
and  other  marine  fossils  are  abundant  The  Vicksburg  group  Uea 
next  in  order  south-westward,  and  is  characterized  by  crystalline 
ii'nestones  and  blue  and  whito  marls.  Marino  fossils  ai-c  very 
abundant.  More  than  one  hundred  and  thirty  species  have  been 
determined.  The  Grand  Gnlf  group,  showing  a  few  fossil  plants 
and  no  marine  fossils,  extends  southward  from  the  last  to  within 
a  few  miles  of  the  coast. 

The  oldest  formation  of  the  Quo  ternary  period  is  the  "orange 
sand"  or  "stratified  drift,"  which  immediately  overlies  aU  the 
CretaceoQs  groups  except  the  prairies  of  the  Rotten  Limestone, 
and  all  the  Tertiary  except  the  Flatwoods  and  Vicksburg  groups 
and  parts  of  the  Jackson.  Its  depth  varies  from  a  few  feet  to  over 
200  feet,  and  it  forms  the  body  of  most  of  the  hills  in  the  State. 
Its  materials  are  pebbles,  clays,  and  sands  of  various  colours  from 
white  to  deep  red,  tinged  with  peroxide  of  iron,  which  sometimes 
cements  the  pebbles  and  sands  into  compact  rocks.     The  shapes  of 


'P'      T  j:  sr  N  E    s   s  eve_ 
^[■■-r r?"(s^yjV"\^ 


Geological  Map  of  Mississippi  State, 
these  ferruginous  sandstones  are  very  fantastic, — tubes,  hollow 
spheres,  plates,  &c.,  being  common.  The  name  stratified  drift  is 
used  by  the  geologist  of  Alabama  to  indicate  its  connexion  with 
the  northern  drift.  The  fossils  are  few,  and  in  some  cases  probably 
derived  from  the  underlying  formarions.  "Well-worn  pebbles  A 
amorphous  ijuartz,  agate,  chalcedony,  jasper,  &c.,  arc  found  in  the 
str.^tified  drift  along  the  western  side  of  the  Tertiary  region  of 
the  State,  and  from  Columbus  northward.  ""While  this  forma- 
tion is  not  well  understood,  it  seems  tolerably  well  established 
that  the  melHng  of  the  great  glaciers  of  the  north  furnished  the 
water  which  brou^t  with  it  fragments  of  the  rocks  over  which 
it  passed,  and  flowed  into  the  Gulf  with  a  current  which  was 
most  rapid  where  the  pebbles  were  dropped,  but  overspread  tiie 
remainder  of  the  State  with  a  gentler  flow,  leaving  sands  and 
clays  "  {E.  A.  Smith).  The  second  Quaternary  formation  ia  the 
Port  Hudson,  occurring  within  20  miler  of  the  Gulf  coast,  and  prob- 
ably outcropping  occasionally  in  the  Mississippi  Bottom.  Clay!?, 
gravel,  and  sands,  containing  cypress  stumps,  drift-wood,  anl 
mastodon  bones,  are  characteristic.  Tho  loess  or  bluff  fomiatica 
lies  along  the  bluffs  bordering  the  Bottom,  nearly  continuously 
through  tho  Stato.  Its  fine-grained,  unstratified  silt  contains  the 
remains  cf  many  torrostrial  animals,  including  fifteen  niaiomals. 


MISSISSIPPI 


523 


The  sorfaco  and  subsoil  of  nearly  all  the  upland  region  of 
Ui^isaippi,  the  southern  part  being  the  eicej)tion,  is  composed  of 
yellow  foam  or  brick-clay  containing  no  fossils,  and  showing  no 
stratification.  The  soil  of  the  Rotten  Limestone  region  is  similar  in 
ka  general  make  up,  but  is  black,  and  contains  more  lime  and 
clay.  Both  are  regarded  as  an  independent  aqueous  deposit,  pos- 
terior to  the  stratified  drift  and  bluff  formations,  and  anterior 
to  the  alluvium  of  the  present  epoch.  The  *'  second  bottoms," 
probably,  are  later  than  the  yellow  loam,  and  belong  to  the  "  terrace 
epoch."  The  latest  fonaation,  alluvium,  is  stronyly  inarked,  and 
oorero  a  large  area  iu  the  Yazoo  and  Mississippi  Bottom,  and  along 
other  streams. 

The  following  are  the  eqtuvalents  of  the  Mississippi  groups  in 
Dana's  Geology : — 


Qoatenury. 


Cnitaceons. 


F  20c  Xx>ainan4  loess Loam  aad  loess. 

"1  20&  Port  Hodson «. Port  Uadson. 

(.20a  DrifC. .r. SR-atillea  dilit, 

1- Doner  (  Grond  Gait 

Jackson. 
Claiborne. 
Lower  i  Euhrstone,  Lagrange. 

"^f- I  Rotten  Limestone 

Lo«r lll^^l^"''- 


•  I  Coffee. 
SiibcarbODifeFOOs Keokuk. 

Minerals. — Metallic  ores  are  not  found  in  Mississippi  in  paying 
quantities.  The  only  valuable  minerals  are  sandstones  and  lime- 
stones, marls,  sands,  lignite  or  brown  coal,  and  fire-clays.  None  of 
these  have  been  extensively  brought  into  market.  Potable  water  is 
found  almost  everywhere.  Artesian  wells  furnish  it  in  the  Rotten 
Limestone  region,  when  bored  into  the  underlying  Coffee  strata. 

J^aunn. — Mississippi  affords  perhaps  no  species  which  are  not 
found  in  the  neighbouring  States.  There  are  thirty  or  forty  species 
of  MamiTialia,  the  most  remarkable  being  the  American  opossum, 
sriU  quite  abundant.  The  deer((?ermw  virginianus),  black  bear 
ll7rsiis  americantis),  wolves  (Canis  lupus  &ui.  iMpus  amerkanus), 
ratsmount  {Felis  concolor),  and  wild-cat  {Lyncus  rw/us)  have  much 
;Iocreased  in  number,  and  may,  like  the  buffalo  and  elk,  shortly 
K-ecomo  extinct.  About  one  hundred  and  fifty  species  of  birds 
ire  found  during  at  least  part  of  the  year.  Many  are  seen  only 
in  transHUj  and  about  twenty  species  from  the  north  spend  the 
vTinter  here.  The  mocking  bird  {Mitnus  poli/gloitus),  the  most 
remarkable  songster,  is  very  abundant.  The  wild  turkey  {Ifeleagris 
■jallipavo)  survives  by  virtue  of  its  wary  and  watchful  character. 
Over  fifty  species  of  SepHlia  have  been  found,  prominent  among 
wliich  is  the  alligator  (A.  mississippimsis),  which  attains  a  length 
o(  12  or  15  feet,  and  is  common  in  the  southern  river  bottoms. 
The  rattlesnake,  moccasin^  and  copperhead,  venomous  serpents,  are 
occasionally  found.  About  half  of  the  sixty-three  species  of  fish 
abounding  in  the  fresh  and  salt  waters  of  the  State  are  valuable 
ibr  food.  The  edible  oysters  and  crustaceans  of  the  coast  are 
lemarkably  fine. 

Flora. — Originally  nearly  the  entire  State  was  covered  with  a 
growth  of  forest  trees  of  large  size,  mostly  deciduous.  The  under- 
yrowth  was  kept  down  by  annual  burnings  by  the  natives,  and 
me  ground  became  carpeted  with  grasses  and  herbs.  Over  120 
species  of  forest  trees  are  found  ;  many  valuable  ones  are  abundant, 
and  their  timber  constitutes  a  large  item  in  the  resources  of  the 
State.  Of  the  15  species  of  oak  the  most  valuable  are  the  live-oak 
(C.  virens),  found  near  the  coast,  and  the  white-oak  {Q.  alba), 
widely  distributed.  The  cypress  {Taawdium  distichum)  is  very 
abundant  in  the  bottoms.  Various  species  of  hickory,  the  chest- 
nut, black  walnut,  sweet  gum,  cucumber  tree,  Cottonwood  {Populus 
deltoides),  red  cedar,  elms,  holly,  magnolias,  maples,  ash,  persim- 
mon, sycamore,  tupelo,  and  many  others  valuable  for  their  timber, 
are  abundant  and  of  large  size.  The  long-leaved  pine  {P.  australis) 
forms  the  principal  forest  growth  south  of  lat.  32°  15'.  It.  attains 
a  diameter  of  2  or  3  feet,  has  a  tall  and  shapely  trunk,  and  its 
'.  imber  is  unsurpassed  in  the  variety  of  its  uses.  The  census  reports 
estimate  the  merehantable  timber  of  this  species  now  standing  in 
the  State  at  18,200,000,000  feet,  board  measure.  The  amount  cut 
ia  1880  was  108,000,000  feet.  The  short-leaved  pine  (P.  miti&j, 
almost  as  valuable,  is  found  in  various  parts,  the  quantity  now 
standing  being  estimated  at  6,775,000,000  feet.  The  total  value 
of  the  pine  timber  of  the  State  is  about  $250,000,000. 

Agriculture  is  the  leading  industry  in  Mississippi.  Over 
300,000  of  the  population  are  directly  engaged  in  the  cultivation  of 
4,895,000  acres  of  land.  The  character  of  the  soil  ia  varied,  and 
nil  is  productive,  except  that  in  the  Flatwoods  region  and  in  the 
district  covered  with  long-leaved  pine,  where  only  the  valleys  are 
fertile.  At  least  half  the  State  is  exceptionally  fertile.  Not  more 
than  one-fourth  of  the  arable  land  has  been  brought  into  culti- 
vation, and  two  millions  of  acres  of  the  best  lands  in  the  State, 
lying  in  the  Bottom,  might  be  made  arable  by  proper  drainage. 

Cotton  is  the  chief  agricultural  product ;  m  1880  Mississippi 
Bnked  first  among  the  States  in  the  amonct  raised.     The  crop  of 


1879-80  amounted  to  955,808  bales,  worth  $43,000,000.  There 
wer^  produced  also  of  cotton  seed  28,000,000  bushels,  worth 
$3,000,000;  of  Indian  com,  21,340,800  bushels;  of  oats,  1,959,620 
bushels ;  of  wheat,  218,890  bushels  ;  of  rice,  1,718,950  lb.  Small 
quantities  of  rye,  barley,  molasses,  and  tobacco,  and  abundant  crops 
of  potatoes,  yams,  pease,  and  all  garden  vegetables,  are  annually 
produced. 

Fruits  of  various  hinds  flourish  iu  many  parts  of  the  Stale,  and, 
with  early  vegetables,  are  largely  shipped  to  the  northern  markets 
in  spring  and  early  summer.  The  value  of  the  cotton  crop  is 
about  three  times  as  great  as  that  of  all  the  other  products  of 
the  soil,  which  are  sometimes  insufficient  for  home  consumption. 
Economically  this  specialization  of  agriculture  is  to  be  regretted ; 
but  successful  efforts  are  being  made  to  diversify  it  by  growing 
other  crops  to  which  the  soil  and  climate  are  equally  well  suitei 

Manvfactiires. — The  principal  articles  manufactured  are  lumber, 
cotton  and  woollen  goods,  cotton  seed  oil,  and  agricultural  imple- 
ments. 

Population.  — The  number  of  inhabitants  according  to  the  different 
census  returns  from  1850  is  given  in  the  following  table : — 


Census. 

Totcl. 

While 

Colooretl. 

Density  per 
Sq.  MUc. 

1650 
ISCO 
1870 
1880 

C0S,626 

829,609 
1,131,692 

295,718 
353,910 
384.649 
479,371 

310,808 
437,404 
445,060 
652,221 

13  09 
17-07 
1/-9 
■2ii2 

Of  the  coloured  population,  mostly  freedmen  and  their  descend- 
ants, 1738  were  Indians  or  half-breeds  in  1880,  and  abont  60,000 
mulattqes.  The  whites  own  nearly  all  the  farms  and  other  real 
property.  The  total  property  valuation  in  the  State  decreased 
from  $607,324,911  in  1860  to  $209,197,345  in  1870,  on  account  of 
the  losses  in  war  and  the  liberation  of  the  slaves.  There  has  been, 
however,  a  rapid  increase  in  the  last  decade.  The  towns  in  the 
State  have  small  populations  :  in  1880  Vicksburg  had  11,814  in- 
habitants, Natchez  7058,  and  Jackson,  the  State  capital,  5204. 

Administration., — The  three  departments,  legislative,  executive, 
and  judiciary,  are  similar  to  those  of  other  States.  The  governor 
and  other  executive  officers  are  elected  for  four  years. '  The  legis- 
lature, which  meets  biennially,  is  composed  of  forty  senators, 
serving  four  years,  and  one  hundred  and  "twenty  representatives, 
serving  two  years.  These  are  apportion.ed  to  the  seventy-four 
counties  according  to  population,  and  elected  by  the  people.  The 
judiciary  officers,  consisting  of  three  justices  of  the  supreme  court, 
twelve  circuit  judges,  and  twelve  chancellors,  are  appointed  by  the 
governor  with  the  consent  of  the  senate.  One  attorney-general 
and  twelve  district  attorneys  are  elected  by  the  people.  The  State 
maintains  a  public  school  system,  with  separate  schools  for  the  t^*0 
races,  costing  in  18S0  $830,704,  besides  a  State  university  and 
other  schools  of  high  grade  for  each  of  the  races. 

History. — Mississippi  was  first  visited  by  Europeans  in  1540, 
when  the  adventurous  expedition  of  De  Soto  reached  its  northern 
parts.  After  the  disastrous  termination  of  this  expedition  no 
other  Europeans  visited  this  region  nntU  1673,  when  Joliet  and 
Pfere  Marquette  descended  the  Mississippi  to  lat.  33°.  In  1682  La 
Salle  and  Tonty  descended  to  the  mouth  of  the  river,  and 
claimed  the  whole  region  drained  by  it  for  the  king  of  France, 
giving  it  the  name  Louisiana.  In  1699  the  first  colonists  reached 
the  coast  of  Mississippi,  sent  from  France  under  Iberville. 
Settlements  were  made  on  Ship  Island  and  Cat  Island,  and  upon 
the  mainland  on  the  eastern  side  of  Biloxi  Bay,  at  Bay  St  Louis, 
and  at  Mobile.  The  colony  did  not  prosper,  and  in  1712  Anthony 
Crozat  obtained  by  charter  from  the  king  all  the  commercial 
privileges  of  the  lower  Mississippi  valley,  tfuder  his  management 
the  colony  languished,  and  in  1717  the  king  accepted, the  surrender 
of  his  charter,  and  granted  another  with  more  extended  privileges 
to  the  "Western  Company,"  or  "  Mississippi  Scheme,"  with  John 
Law  as  director-general,  and  Bienville  as  governor  of  the  colony. 
Under  this  management  the  rich  alluvial  lands  on  the  Mississippi 
river  began  to  be  occupied ;  tobacco,  rice,  and  indigo  were  culti- 
vated, and  African  slaves  were  introduced.  Settlements  were  made 
near  the  present  city  of  Natchez  in  1720.  Two  years  later.  Law's 
company  becoming  bankrupt,  much  embarrassment  in  the  colony 
followed,  and  troubles  also  began  with  the  natives.  On  November 
28,  1729,  the  Natchez  Indians  surprised  and  murdered  about  200 
of  the  white  male  residents,  and  made  captives  of  about  BOO 
women  and  children  and  negroes.  A  war  followed,  resulting  in  the 
destruction  of  the  Natchez  tribe.  The  representatives  of  ^the 
"  Western  Company  "  returned  their  franchises  to  the  king  in  1732, 
the  number  of  colonists  and  slaves  being  then  about  7000.  After 
two  unsuccessful  campaigns  against  the  Chickasaw  Indians  in  the 
northern  part  of  what  is  now  Mississippi,  Bienville  was  superseded 
by  the  Marqnis  de  Taudreuil  in  1740. 

By  the  treaty  of  Paris,  in  1763,  Franco  ceded  all  her  possessions 
east  of  tlie  lUssissippi  river  to  England,  excepting  the  island  of 
New  Orleans,   c^ded  to  Sp,rn,     The  British  province  of  Weet 


524 


M  I  S  —  M  I  !S 


Florida  nt  hrst  I'xiended  eastward  from  th«  HissUsippi  river  slong 
the  Gulf  coasts,  with  its  noi'thern  limit  at  the  Slot  pavillul  of  norlii 
iatit.ude.  Soon  afterwards  the  northern  boundary  was  fized  at  a 
line  drawn  eastward  from  the  point  where  the  Yazoo  river  unites 
^7ilh  the  Mississippi 

Under  British  rule  the  Natchez  country,  whicn  had  been  deserted 
since  the  massacre  of  1729,  and  the  southern  part  of  the  present 
State  of  Mississippi,  rapidly  filled  with  settlers,  many  of  them 
emigrants  from  the  Atlantic  colonies.  Cotton,  u-jTigo,  and  sugar 
■were  cultivated,  and  negro  slaves  continued  to  be  freely  introduced. 
During  the  revolutionary  war  of  the  Atlantic  colonies,  "West 
Florida,  being  far  removed,  remained  undisturbed  until  1779.  Spain 
and  England  being  then  at  war,  Galvez,  the  governor  of  New 
Orleans,  aided  b}''  sympathizers  with  the  revolutionary  colonists, 
took  possession  of  tbe  whole  of  West  Florida  for  the  king  of  Spain. 
At  the  peace  of  1783  England  acknowledged  the  3l3t  parallel  as 
the  southern  bovmdary  of  the  United  States,  and  ceded  West 
Florida  to  Spain.  The  district  between  the  31st  parallel  and  the 
parallel  through  the  mouth  of  the  Yazoo  was  therefor^  claimed  by 
the  United  States  and  by  Spain,  the  latter  being  in  possession. 
After  tedious  negotiations  the  latter  power  relinquished  the  district 
in  March  17S3,  and  Congress  at  once  formed  it  into  "  the  Mississippi 
Territory,"  which  extended  from  the  Mississippi  river  eastward 
■between  the  two  above-mentioned  narallels  of  latitude  to  the 
Chattcihoochee  riyer. 

The  State  of  Georgia  claimed  as  a  part  of  its  domain  all  of  the 
district  east  of  the  Mississippi  river,  and  between  the  31st  and  S5th 
parallels.  In  1802  it  ceded  its  claims  to  the  Federal  Government 
for  certain  considerations,  and  in  1804  Congress  extended  the 
limits  of  the  Mississippi  Territory  northward  to  the  35th  parallel. 
^J" early  all  of  the  Territory  was  then  owned  by  the  native  Indians. 
The  Choctaws  occupied  the  southern  part,  and  the  Chickasaws  the 
northern  part  of  what  is  now  the  State  of  Mississippi.  In  1812 
the  United  States  troops  occupied  Spanish  West  Florida,  and  the 
district  east  of  Pearl  river  and  south  of  lat.  31°  was  added  to  the 
Mississippi  Territory.  The  Territoi-y  was  divided  by  the  present 
line  between  Alabama  and  Mississippi,  and  the  State  of  Mississippi 
admitted  into  the  Union  in  1817.  In  1830-32  the  native  tribes 
exchanged  their  lands  for  others  west  of  the  Mississippi  river  and 
were  nearly  all  removed,  and  a  rapid  influx  of  settlers  followed. 
In  January  1^61  the  State  seceded  from  the  Federal  Union,  and, 
ioining  the  Southern  Confederacy,  furnished  a  large  number  of 
troops  during  the  civil  war.  It  was  the  field  of  many  important 
campaigns,  and  sulfered  great  losses.  Exhausted  by  the  conflict, 
and  harassed  by  procesies  of  political  reconstruction,  the  State  was 
in  a  deplorable  condition  for  several  years.  But  within  the  lost 
decade  an  era  of  prosperity  commenced,  marked  by  a  large  increase 
in  population  and  great  activity  in  agricultural  and  other  pursuits. 
Literature. — Gayarrtf,  History  o/  Louisiana ;  Monette,  History  of  the  Valley  oj 
the  Mississippi.  New  York,  lfi46 ;  Claibomo,  Mississippi  as  a  Province,  Territoi-y, 
and  State,  Jackson,  1830;  Wailes,  Agriculture  and  Oeoloffy  of  Mississippi,  J&ckaoa, 
1854;  Hilgard,  Agriculture  and  Geolcgy  of  Mississippi,  Jacksoii,  1860;  Smith, 
Outline  of  the  Geology  of  Alabama,  Montgomery,  1880;  Wall,  Handbook  of  Mis- 
'issippi,  Jackson,  1882.  (R.  E.  F.) 

MISSOLONGHI,  or  Mesolonghi  (Meo-oXoyyioi'),  a  city 
of  Greece,  the  chief  town  of  the  nomarchy  of  Acarnania 
and  jEtolia,  situated  on  the  north  side  of  the  Gulf  of 
Patras,  about  7  miles  from  the  coast,  in  the  midst  of  a 
shallow  lagoon,  with  a  population  of  6324  in  1879,  is 
notable  for  the  siege  of  two  months  which  Mavrocordatos 
■with  a  handful  of  men  sustained  in  1821  against  a  Turkish 
army  11,000  strong,  and  for  the  more  famous  defence  of 
1825-26  (see  vol.  xi.  p.  125;.  Byron  died  there  in  1824, 
and  is  commemorated  by  a  cenotaph. 
•jVli.  MISSOURI,  a  Central  State  of  the  American  Union, 
lying  almost  midway  between  the  Atlantic  and  the  Rocky 
Mountains,  British  America  and  the  Gulf  of  Mexico.  Its 
eastern  boundary  is  the  Mississippi,  separating  it  from 
Illinois,  Kentucky,  and  Tennessee.  North  and  south  its 
boundaries  ■with  Iowa  and  Arkansas  respectively  are 
mainly  coincident  with  the  parallels  of  40°  30'  and  36°  30' 
N.  lat.;  but  a  small  peninsula  bet-ween  the  Mississippi 
and  St  Fran5ois  rivers  stretches  34  miles  farther  south 
between  Arkansas  and  Tennessee.  The  western  border, 
■with  Nebraska,  Kansas,  and  the  Indian  Territory,  is 
nearly  coincident  ■with  the  course  of  the  Missouri  to  the 
junction  of  that  stream  with  the  Kansas,  and  then  follows 
the  meridian  of  17°  40'  W.  of  Washington  (94°  43'  W. 
of  Greenwich).  The  area  of  the  State  is  65,350  square 
miles,  the  extreme  length  from  north  to  south  232  miles, 
the  extreme  vndth  348  miles.     Missouri  is  di^vided  into 


a  northern  and  sourjc-m  portion  by  the  Missouri  river, 
flowing  400  miles  in  a  generally  easterly  direction  from 
its  junction  with  the  Kansas  to  the  point  12  miles  above 
St  Louis  where  it  unites  ■with  the  MississippL  Northern 
Missouri  has  a  surface  broken  and  hilly,  but  not  moun- 
taiuouB.  It  is  mainly  prairie  land,  well  watered  by  streams, 
and  fit  for  agriculture ;  but  there  is  a  good  deal  of  tiinber 
in  the  ea.stera  parts,  especially  along  the  bold  blufls  of  the 
two  great  rivers.  Southern  Missouri  is  almost  equally 
divided  betT^een  timber  land  in  the  east  and  prairie  in 
the  west.  In  its  south-western  portion  rises  the  table-land 
of  the  Ozark  hills  (highest  point  1600  feet  above  the  sea). 
The  Osige,  the  Gasconade,  and  other  streams  flov?  north- 
ward and  eastward  into  the  Missouri.  The  south-eastern 
lowlands  form  an  undulating  country,  readily  drained  after 
rain,  ■with  fertile  ridges  generally  running  north  and  south, 
occasional  abrupt  isolated  hills,  forests  of  oak,  hickory, 
elm,  maple,  ash,  locust,  willow,  persimmon,  pecan,  chestnut, 
and  cherry  trees,  and  in  the  lowest  parts  swamps  and 
morasses.  High  rocky  bluffs  extend  along  the  banks  of 
the  Mississippi  from  the  mouth  of  the  Meramec  river  to 
Ste  Gsne^vieve,  rising  sometimes  precipitously  tO'  the 
height  of  350  feet  above  the  water,  and  low  bottom  lands 
■with  many  lakes  and  lagoons  extend  from  Ste  Gene^vievo 
to  the  AJkansas  border.  The  south-east  comer  of  the 
State-is  275  feet  above  the  sea,  the  north-east  comer  445 
feet,  and  the  north-west  comer  1000  feet. 

Climate. — The  climate  of  Missouri,  lying  as  it  does  far 
from  the  ocean  ar.d  unprotected  by  mountain  ranges,  ia 
one  of  extremes  in  heat  and  cold,  moisture  and  drought. 
The  Ozark  range  is  high  enough  to  influence  the  climate 
locally,  but  not  to  affect  that  of  the  whole  State.  The 
mean  summer  temperature  for  the  ten  years  1870-80 
ranged  from  75°  in  the  north-west  of  the  State  to  78''"5  in 
the  south-east ;  but  the  thermometer  has  been  kno^wn  to  rise 
to  104°.  The  winter-  temperature  averaged  33°'87  for 
the  whole  State,  varying  from  28°'5  ia  the  north-west  to 
39°'5  in  the  south-east.  In  some  winters  the  temperature 
hardly  falls  to  zero ;  in  others  20°  below  zero  have  been 
registered.  The  Mississippi  at  St  Louis  freezes  over  once 
in  four  or  five  years ;  but  this  is  partly  caused  by  the 
accumulations  of  floating  ice  coming  down  from  the  north. 
The  river  has  closed  as  early  as  the  first  week  in  December, 
and,  again,  has  remained  open  until  the  last  week  ia 
Febraary.  It  is  in  cold  seasons  sometimes  passable  for 
the  hea^viest  teams.  The  Missouri  river  is  often  closed 
during  the  whole  winter.  The  mean  annual  temperature 
of  the  State  varies  from  53°  to  58°.  The  climate  is,  on 
the  whole,  dry ;  for,  in  spite  of  the  abundant  rains,  especi- 
ally in  the  spring,  evaporation  is  so  rapid  that  the  atmo- 
sphere is  rarely  overloaded  with  moisture.  April  is  the 
driest  month.  The  greatest  amount  of  rain  falls  in  the 
south-eastern  part  of  the  State.  An  tmusual  amount  of 
fair  weather,  prevailing  clearness  of  sky,  general  salubrity 
of  soil  and  climate,  are  chief  among  the  natural  advantages 
of  this  great  State. 

Geology. — The  stratified  rocks  of  Missouri  belong  to  the 
foUo^wing  divisions  : — Quatemaiy,  Tertiary,  Carboniferous, 
Devonian,  Silurian,  and  Arch^ai.  The  Quaternary  system 
comprises  the  drift,  155  feet  thick ;  the  bluff,  200  feet  above 
the  drift ;  then  the  bottom  prairie,  3-3  feet  thick ;  and  on 
the  surface  the  alluvium,  3C  feet  in  thickness.  Claya  ■with 
strata  of  sands,  marls,  and  humus  form  the  alluvial  bottomr; 
of  the  two  great  rivers  of  the  State,  and  make  up  a  soil  deep, 
light,  and  incomparably  rich.  Beneath  the  alluvium  is  founci 
the  bottom  prairie,  made  up  also  of  sands,  clays,  and  vege- 
table moulds.  This  formation  is  found  only  in  the  bottom 
lands  of  the  Missouri  and  Mississippi  rivers,  and  motr- 
abundantly  in  those  of  the  former.  Numerous  and  weP- 
presorvcd  organic  remains  are  foimd  in  the  bottom  prabie, 


o  Omaha 
Ilttniiion^;^ 


MISSOURI 


525 


(ncludiog  the  shells  found  in  great  quantities  in  tne  bluff 
md  remains  of  the  mastodon  and  many  trees  and  plants. 
Bolow  this  formation,  resting  .upon  the  drift,  is  the  bluff, 
'fhis  rests  upon  the  ridges  and  river  blufis,  and  thus  is 
vopographicaJly  higher,  although  geologically  lower,  than 
the  bottom  prairie.  It  is  composed  chiefly  of  a  grey 
siliceous  marl,  coloured  sometimes  to  a  deep  brown  or  red 
by  the  stains  of  oxide  of  iron.  This  formation  extends 
along  the  blufis  of  the  Missouri  from  Fort  Union  to  its 
mouth,  and  is  found  capping  those  of  the  Mississippi  from 
Dubuque  to  the  mouth  of  &&  Ohio.  It  is  sometimes  200 
feettluck;  at  St  Joseph  it  is  140,  at  Booneville  100,  at 
St  Louis  50,  in  Marion  county  only  30  feet.  This  forma- 
tion has  interesting  fossils  (Elephas  primigeniusi  &c.).  The 
drift,  the  lowest  of  the  Quatemajy  system,  appears  in  the 
altered  drift,  the  boulder  formation,  made  up  largely  of  the 
igneous  and  metamorphic  rocks,  with  rocks  from  the  Palaeozoic 
strata  upon  which  the  others  rest.  Large  boulders,  five  or 
six  feet  in  diameter,  are  found,  usually  of  granite  or  metar 
morphic  sandstone ;  no  fossils  except  a  few  logs  in  the  altered 
drift  have  been  found  in  this  formation.  The  Tertiary 
formation  in  Missouri  is  composed  of  clays,  shales,  iron 
<>res,  sandstone,  and  sand,  and  extends  along  the  bluffs  and 
i>ottoins  of  the  south-east  part  of  the  State.  Iron  ore  is 
found  in  this  formation  in  great  abundance ;  sand  of  the 
best  quality  for  glass-making  and  clays  for  pottery  and 
stoneware  also  abound.  Below  the  Tertiary  bed  are  found 
rocks  which  strongly  resemble  Cretaceous  beds  found  in 
other  places  in  the  United  States.  These  strata  are  in  such 
a  state  of  irregularity  and  disturbance  as  to  indicate  the 
occurrence  of  some  great  movements  after  their  deposition 
and  before  the  formation  of  the  Tertiary  strata.  The  Upper 
Carboniferous  system,  or  coal  measures,  made  up  of  sand- 
stone, limestone,  marl,  coal,  and  iron  ores,  covers  an  area 
of  more  than  23,000  square  miles  in  Missouri,  occupying 
the  western  and  northern  portions  of  the  State.  The  supply 
of  bituminous  and  cannel  coals  found  here  would  seem  to 
be  well-nigh  inexhaustible.  In  the  Lower  Carboniferous 
rock  are  found  many  varieties  of  limestone  and  sandstone. 
Among  these  are  the  Upper  Archimedes  Limestone,  200 
feet;  Ferruginous  Sandstone,  3  95  feet ;  Middle  Archimedes 
Limestone,  50  feet ;  St  Louis  Limestone,  250  feet.  The 
Devonian  system  \s  represented  by  limestone  in  Marion, 
Balls,  Pike,  Callaway,  Saline,  and  Ste  Genevieve  counties, 
among  which  occtir  the  Chouteau '  Limestone,  85  feet  ; 
Lithographic  Limestone,  125  feet;  Onondaga  Limestone, 
100  feet.  Of  the  Upper  Silurian  series  are  the  following  , 
formations: — Lower  Helderberg,  350  feet;  Niagara  Group, 
200  feet;  Cape  Girardeau  Limestone,  60  feet.  Prominent 
among  the  Lower  Silurian  formations  are  the  Trenton 
Limestone,  360  feet ;  the  Black  River  and  Bird's  Eye 
Limestone ;  and  the  Magnesian  series.  The  last-named 
series  is  valuable  both  in  a  scientific  and  an  economic  sense. 
It  covers  much  of  the  southern  and  south-eastern  portions 
of  the  State,  and  in  it  are  found  vast  deposits  of  lead, 
zinc,  copper,  cobalt,  iron  ores,  and  marble.  The  Archaean 
rocks  occur  below  the  Silurian  deposits,  and  contain  siliceous 
and  other  slates  in  which  no  fossils  are  found.  The  porphyry 
rocks  of  this  formation  also  contain  iron  ores. 

QxU. — The  exposed  coal  in  Missouri  includes  upper,  middle,  and 
lower  measures.  In  the  first  are  about  i  feet  of  coal,  and  the  area 
of  exposure  is  about  8400  squara  miles.  The  middle  coal  measures 
contain  about  7  feet  ol  coal,  and  cover  an  exposed  area  of  about 
2000^  square  miles.*  Hie  lower  measures  have  fivs  workable  seams, 
varying  from  18  inches  in  thickness  to  4j  fe«t,  and  also  some  thin 
seams- of  only  a  few  inches.  In  1880  666,304  bushels  of  bitu- 
minous coal  were  raised  in  thirty-five  counties  of  Missouri,  the 
value  at  the  pit  mouth  being  $1,060,225.  $642,772  were  paid  in 
wages  to  2599  persons.     The  Missouri  coal  mines  are  easHy  worked. 

/nm. — The  iron  ores  are  red  haanutite,  red  oxide,  specular  iron, 
brown  hematite  or  limonite,  and  clay  ironstone.  Manganiferous  and 
sSicaoua  specular  ores  occur  in  the  porphyries  of  the  Aichaan  rocks, 


and  in  trie  gniuites.  The  greatest  exposure  of  specular  iron  yet  dis- 
covered is  Iron  Mountain,  the  purest  mass  or  body  of  irpn  ore  Known. 
Analysis  shows  it  to  contain  from  66  to  69  per  cent,  of  metallic  iron. 
The  ore  of  Shepherd  Mountain  is  not  so  rich  as  that  of  Iron  Moun- 
tain, but  is  uniform  in  character,  free  from  sulphur  and  phosphoric 
acid  and  on  the  whole  superior  to  any  other  yet  developed  in  Missouri. 
Pilot  Knob  ore  gives  53  to  60  per  cent,  metallic  iron,  and  has  few 
deleterious  substances.  It  is  fine-grained,  light  bluish  grey  in 
colour.  The  ore  of  the  Scotia  iron  banks  and  Iron  Ridge  are  much 
alike  in  appearance  and  character,  being  specular  boulders  imbedded 
in  soft  red  luematite.  In  some  of  these  boulders  are  cavities  in 
which  the  ore  has  taken  botryoidal  form,  and  upon  these  peroxide  of 
iron  crystallizations  are  so  formed  that  a  gorgeous  show  of  prismatic 
colours  is  presented.  The  above  are  the  chief  deposits  of  iron  ores, 
but  limonites  are  found  mostly  in  the  southern  parts  of  the  State. 
The  counties  of  Ste  Geneviere,  Madison,  St  Frani;ois,  Cape  Girar- 
deau, Bollinger,  Wayne,  Stoddard,  ■Washington,  Reynolds,  Shan- 
non, Carter,  and  Kipley  have  the  greatest  exposures  of  these  ores, 
although  they  are  found  in  many  others.  The  supply  of  iron  ores 
is,  indeed,  practically  inexhaustible. 

Lead. — Second  only  to  iron  among  the  metals  of  Missouri  is  the 
vast  deposit  of  lead  found  in  the  southern  parts  of  the  State.  The 
great  disseminated  lead  region  occupies  about  one-half  of  the  noi'ch- 
em  portion  of  Madison,  and  about  as  much  of-  St  Fran9oi3  coxmty. 
It  is  in  the  magnesian  limestone  that  the  largest  (quantities  have 
been  found.  In  Franklin  county  galena  is  found  in  abundance  in 
ferruginous  clay  and  coarse  graveL  In  the  great  mammoth  mine 
in  'Washington  county  is  a  succession  of  caves  in  which  nullions  oi 
pounds  of  lead  were  found  adhering  to  the  sides  and  roofs.  The 
central  lead  district  of  the  State  comprises  the  counties  of  Cole, 
Cooper,  Moniteau,  Morgan,  Miller,  Benton,  Maries,  Camden,  and 
Osage  ;  the  southern  lead  region  the  counties  of  Pulaski,  Laclede, 
Texas,  "Wright,  Webster,  Douglass,  Ozark,  and  Christian.  The 
"western  lead  district  includes  the  counties  of  Hickory,  Dallas,  Polk, 
St  Clair,  Cedar,  and  Dade ;  the  south-western  the  counties  ol 
Jasper,  Newton,.  Lawrence,  Stone,  Barry,  and  M 'Donald.  The 
two  counties  Jasper  and  Newton  produce  fully  one-half  of  the  pig 
lead  of  Missouri.  The  lead  mines  of  Granby  are  -  among  the  best- 
known"  in  the  State,  and  millions  of  pounds  of  lead  have  been  taken 
from  these  lands. 

Copper  deposits  have  been  found  in  several  counties,  ohiefiy  ia 
the  south-western  part  of  the  State.  Zinc  is  found,  in  the  shape  ol 
sulphuret  and  also  silicate  of  zinc,  in  nearly  all  the  lead  mines  in 
south-western  Missouri.  It  has  often  occurred  in  such  masses  'a£ 
seriously  to  hinder  mining  operations,  and  until  very  recent  years, 
when  railroad  facilities  have  given  this  ore  a  market,  it  was  thrown 
aside  as  worthless.  It  is  now  an  important  and  profitable  adjunct 
of  the  lead  mines  of  Missouri.  Cobalt  and  nickel  are  found  at  Mine 
La  Motte  and  in  a  few  other  places.  .  Silver  is  found  in  small  quan- 
tities in  lead  mines  in  Madison  county,  combined  with  the  lead. 

Clays  for  the  manufacture  of  ordinary  brick  for  building  purposes 
and  for  fire-brick  exist  in  quantities  'beyond  computation,  and 
kaolin  has  been  found  in  a  few  places.  Marble  of  various  shades 
and  qualities  abounds  in  Missouri,  and  is  an  important  item  in  its 
mineral  wealth.  Limesfimes  and  sandstones  suitable  for  building 
purposes  are  found  in  many  parts  of  the  State. 

Agriculture. — Indian  com,  wheat,  oats,  and  tobacco  are  the  staple 
products  ;  but  cotton,  hemp,  and  flax  are  also  raised  to  some  extent 
in  the  southern  counties.  The  average  yield  of  wheat  to  the  acre 
is  30  bushels,  and  that  return  is  often  far  exceeded.  No  flour  is 
of  a  higher  quality  or  more  in  demand  in  foreign  as  well  as  home 
markets  than  that  made  from  Missouri  wheat.  Indian  com  is 
especially  used  in  fattening  live  stock.  Blue  grass,  timothy,  red-top, 
and  red  and  white  clover  grow  luxuriantly,  and  favour  stock-raising. 
In  some  parts  of  the  State  pasturage  can  be  had  all  the  year  round, 
and  the  cheapness  of  com  makes  the  raising  of  pork,  in  particular, 
a  very  profitable  business.  All  varieties  of  fruit  can  be  very  suc- 
cessfidly  cultivated.  ,  The  more  tender  fruits,  such  as  apricots,  nec' 
tarines,  figs,  and  many  choice  kinds  of  grapes,  grow  here  as  well  as 
the  more  northern  fruits — the  apple,  the  pear,  the  plum,  and  the 
cherry.  Apples  and  peaches  do  well  in  all  parts  of  the  State.  Sii 
native  varieties  of  grapes  are  found  in  luxuriant  growth,  and  many 
cultivated  varieties  have  ■  been  successfully  introduced.  No  State, 
not  even  California,  can  hope  ultimately  to  rival  Missouri  in  the 
production  of  both  red  and  white  wines.  Sheep-raising  has  proved 
remunerative  in  flie  southern  counties  chiefly,  where  the  mild  cli- 
mate, the  fine  grasses,  and  the  abundance  of  good  water  are  especially 
favourable  to  this  branch  of  agricultural  mdustry.  There  are  in 
Missouri,  in  round  numbers,  10,000,000  acres  of  improved  and 
13,000,000  of  unimproved  land,  including  9,000,000  acres  of  wood- 
land. The  cash  value  of  the  farms  is  estimated  at  $90,000,000. 
In  1880  there  were  on  the  farms  in  the  State  667,776  horses, 
192,027  mules  and  asses,  9020  oxen,  661,405  cows,  1,410,507  other 
cattle,  1,411,293  sheep,  and  4,653,123  swine.  Missouri  is  the  fourth 
maize-produciug  State  of  the  Union ;  it  supplies  more  wine  than 
any  State  except  California,  and  is  a  rival  of  Kentucky,  "Virginia, 
Tennessee,  and  Maryland  in  the  culture  of  tobacco,  which  is  a 


526 


MISSOUEI 


staple  in  the  rich  counties  in  the  northern  central  part  of  the 
State,  bordering  upon  the  Missouri  river.  No  State  raises  so 
many  mules,  asses,  and  hogs.  The  production  of  cereals  in  1880 
was— corn,  202,485,723  bushels  ;  wheat,  24,966,627  bushels  ;  rye, 
535,426  bushels  ;  oats,  20,o70,958  bushels ;  barley,  123,031  bushels ; 
buckwheat,  67,64;0  bushels.  The  production  of  tobacco  for  the  same 
year  was  12,015,657  lb  from  15,521  acres,  valued  at  3600,256. 
Three -fouiths  of  this  amount  was  raised  in  Chariton,  Marion, 
Randolph,  Howai-d,  Callaway,  and  Saline  counties. 

fFild  Animals. — Red-deer  are  found  in  every  part  of  the  State, 
espficially  in  the  thinly -settled  and  mountainous  districts.  Venison, 
indeed,  in  its  season,  is  as  cheap  as  good  beef  in  the  markets  of  St 
Louis.  Wild  turkeys  are  numerous  in  the  swampy  and  mountainous 
districts,  and  are  found  in  all  parts  of  the  State.  Prairie  chickens, 
or  puinated  grouse,  are  found  in  the  prairie  portion  of  Missouri,  and 
are  shipped  in  great  numbers  to  Eastern  markets.  In  all  parts  of 
ilissouii  are  found  the  quail  or  Virginia  partridge,  thousands  of 
ban-els  of  v/hich  are  shipped  from  the  State  each  season.  The 
rabbit,  a  species  of  hare,  is  so  common  as  to  be  considered  a  pest. 
The  grey  squirrel  and  the  red  fox-squirrel  are  also  found  in  lar^e 
numbers  all  over  the  State.  Black  bass,  perch,  catfish,  buffalo 
fish,  suckers,  and  pike  are  the  leading  varieties  of  native  fish.. 

Manufactures. ~lu  1880  Missouri  had  about  20,000  manufactur- 
ing establishments,  in  which  a  capital  of  about  $125,000,000  was 
employed.  The  products  of  these  establishments  were  valued  at 
upwards  of  $300,000,000.  The  leading  manufacturing  counties 
cutside  of  the  city  of  St  Louis  are  Jackson,  Buchanan,  St  Charles, 
ilarion,  Franklin,  Greene,  Cape  Girardeau,  Platte,  Boone,  and 
Lafayette  ;  but  more  than  three-fourths  of  the  manufactures  are 
produced  at  St  Louis,  which  is  the  fourth  manufacturing  city  of 
the  Union.  The  chief  manufacture  is  that  of  flour,  wMcli  employs 
about  900  mills,  and  is  rapidly  increasing.  Twenty-four  mills  made 
ia  St  Louis,  in  1880,  2,142,949  barrels  of  flour,  having  a  daily  out- 
put of  more  than  11,000  barrels.  St  Louis  millers  and  dealers 
sent  in  1880  to  Europe  and  South  America  619,103  barrels  of  flour  ; 
and  at  the  world's  fairs  at  Paris,  Vienna,  and  Philadelphia,  Missouri 
flour  received  the  first  award.  The  iron  industry,  which  stands  second 
in  importance,  is  yet  only  in  its  infancy,  and  St  Louis  seems  destined 
to  be  one  of  the  great  centres  of  iron  and  steel  manufacture.  The 
amount  of  iron  made  in  Missouri  in  1880,  in  twenty-two  establish- 
ments employing  3139  hands,  was  125,758  tons.  St  Louis  made  the 
.^a;no  year  1 02, 664  tons  of  pig-iron,  steel,  and  rolled  iron  and  blooms. 
Th2  yearly  values  of  a  number  of  other  industries  are  estimated  as 
Toilows  :— meat  packing,  $20,000,000  ;  lumber,  $10,000,000  ;  bags 
and  bagging,  $7,000,000;  saddlery,  $7,000,000;  oil,  $6,000,000; 
printing  and  publishing,  $5,500,000;  furniture,  $5,000,000;  car- 
riages and  waggons,  $4,500,000;  marble  and  stone,  $4,000,000  ; 
tin,  copper,  and  sheet-iron,  $4,000,000;  agricultural  implements, 
$2,000,000.  The  manufacture  of  glass  and  glass-ware  is  carried  on 
to  a  considerable  extent,  especially  in  St  Louis.  At  Crystal  City, 
on  the  Mississippi,  30  miles  below  St  Louis,  is  a  very  large 
deposit  0?  sand-  suitable  for  the  manufacture  of  plate-glass,  and  a 
company  has  been  organized  and  is  now  in  successful  operation, 
with  a  capital  of  $1,000,000. 

Commerce. — The  extensive  commerce  of  Missouri  centres  at  St 
Louis,  bebveen  which  city  and  the  ports  on  the  Mississippi  and 
Missouri  rivers  steambo^its  are  constantly  plying.  Railroaa  trans- 
portation has,  in  recent  years,  furnished  superior  and  cheaper 
tacilities  for  much  of  the  ti'ade  which  fonnerly  depended  upon  the 
rivers.  The  trade  in  cotton  especially  has  been  greatly  increased 
in  Missouri  since  1870  by  the  use  of  railroad  transportation,  which 
has  made  St  Louis  one  of  the  great  cotton  centres  of  the  United 
States.  Extensile  cotton  presses  were  built  in  St  Louis  in  that 
year,  and  the  receipts  of  cotton  from  the  more  southern  States  has 
increased  rapidly — from  12,264  bales  in  1869-70  to  457,563  bales  in 
1879-80.  Railroad  connexions  have  made  the  interior  portions 
of  Arkansas  and  Texas  more  accessible  to  St  Louis  than  to  the 
southern  ports  of  shipment,  and  the  trade  ■n*ith  the  south-west, 
with  the  Indians,  and  with  llexJco  is  constantly  increasing.  In  1870 
St  Louis  was  made  by  Act  of  Congress  a  port  of  entry  to  which 
foreign  merchandise  could  be  brought  in  bond.  The  value  of  the 
direct  imports  for  the  year  ending  30th  June  1882  was  $1,934,342. 

Population.  — Missouri  is  divided  into  114  counties.  The  following 
table  gives  the  number  of  inhabitants  since  1850  : — 


Tear. 

lUles. 

Females. 

Total. 

Density  per 
square  mile. 

1850 
1860 
1870 
1880 

357,832 

622,201 

896,847 

1,127,187 

321,212 

559,811 

824,948 

1,041,193 

682,044 
1,182,012 
1,721,295 
2,108,380 

14-37 
18  03 
26-34 
31-55 

In  1880  the  foreigu-'born  residents  numbered  211,678,  or  9-7  per 
cent,  of  whom  109,974  wero  Germans  and  Scandinavians;  tlioro 
wore  also  145,046  of  African  descent.     The  early  settlers  of  the  State 


■were  French,  and  their  descendants  are  still  found  in  St  Loub  and 
Sto  Genevieve  and  a  few  other  smaller  to^vns.  Many  Germans  have 
recently  settled  in  all  parts  of  the  State,  while  English,  Irish,  Scotch, 
and  Swedes  have  also  made  Missouri  their  home  in  considerable 
numbers.  The  native  American  population  is  mostly  descended 
from  immigrants  from  the  States  of  Kentucky,  Tennessee,  North 
Carolina,  and  Virginia.  During  recent  years  there  has  been  a  large 
accession  to  the  population  from  the  eastern  and  north-western 
States. 

St  Louis,  the  chief  city  of  the  Mississippi  valley,  situated 
upon  the  Mississippi  river  about  12  miles  below  the  month  of  the 
Missouri,  has  a  population  of  350,618  ;  Kansas  City,  a  thri-.-ing 
town  on  the  western  border,  situated  on  the  banks  of  the  Missouri, 
has  56,785  ;  St  Joseph,  in  ths  north-west,  has  32,431  ;  Hannibal, 
in  the  north-east,  has  11,074  ;  and  Jefferson  City  (the  State  capital), 
in  the  centre,  has  6271. 

Education. — Missouri  has  a  public  school  system  of  education 
first  adopted  in  1839.  There  are  district  schools,  elementary  and 
ungraded ;  city  schools,  graded,  with  high  school  courses ;  four 
normal  schools,  and  a  State  university.  Free  public  schools  for 
white  and  coloured  children  between  the  ages  of  six  and  twenty 
years  are  required  by  law  for  every  district  in  the  State.  Besides 
these  public  institutions  supported  by  the  State  there  are  many 
private  schools  and  colleges  for  both  sexes.  Chief  among  these  are 
the  St  Louis  University,  an  institution  managed  by  the  Jesuits ; 
the  College  of  Christian  Brothers,  also  under  the  control  of  the 
Roman  Catholics  ;  and  Washington  University,  a  non-sectarian  en- 
dowed school,  which  has  property  estimated  at  §1,000,000,  and 
more  than  1300  students.  The  Baptists  have  a  college  at  Liberty 
called  William  Jewell  College  ;  the  Congregationalists  one  at  Spring- 
field called  Drury  College  ;  and  flie  Methodists  and  Presbyteriaiu 
several  colleges  and  seminaries. 

Eeligion. — The  early  settlers  of  Missouri  were  Roman  Catholics, 
and  in  the  river  towns  may  be  found  to-day  a  large  number  of  that 
faith.  The  Baptists  have  88,999  members,  with  1385  churches  ; 
the  Methodists,  95,270  members  and  918  churches  ;  the  Protestant 
Episcopal  Church,  25,000  members  and  65  church  buildings  ;  the 
Presbyterians,  with  their  various  branches,  34,628  members  and  706 
chui'ches. 

Administration. — The  lerislativo  power  is  vested  in  a  body  con- 
sisting of  a  senate  and  a  house  of  representatives,  which  meets 
once  in  every  two  years,  on  the  "Wednesday  after  the  first  day  of 
January  next  after  the  election  of  the  members  thereof  Members 
of  the  legislature  .are  paid  a  sum  not  to  exceed  S5  a  day  for  th» 
first  seventy  days  of  the  session,  and  after  that  not  to  exceed  $1  a 
day  for  the  remainder  of  the  session.  They  are  also  allowed  mile- 
age. The  executive  department  consists  of  a  governor,  a  lien- 
tenant-governor,  a  secretary  of  state,  a  State  auditor.  State 
treasurer,  an  attorney-general,  and  a  superintendent  of  public 
instruction ;  these  are  all  elected  by  the  people.  The  supreme 
executive  power  is  vested  in  the  governor,  who  is  chosen  for  four 
years,  as  also  aro  the  other  members  of  this  department.  The 
governor  has  a  qualified  veto  upon  the  acts  of  the  legislature,  and 
such  other  powers  as  are  common  to  that  officer  in  the  several 
States.  The  judicial  power  of  the  State  is  lodged  in  a  supremo 
court,  the  St  Louis  court  of  appeals,  circuit  courts,  criminal 
courts,  probate  courts,  and  municipal  courts.  All  judicial  officers 
are  elected  by  the  people.  Judges  of  the  supreme  court  are  elcct«l 
for  ten  years,  those  of  the  St  Louis  court  of  appeals  for  twelvs 
years,  those  of  the  circuit  courts  for  six  years.  Executive  and 
judicial  officers  are  liable  to  impeachment  by  the  house  of  repre- 
sentatives.    All  impeachment  cases  are  tried  by  the  senate. 

Every  male  citizen  of  the  United  States,  and  every  male  pcrso« 
of  foreign  birth  who  may  have  declared  his  intention  to  become  a 
citizen  of  the  United  States,  according  to  law,  not  less  than  one 
year  nor  more  than  five  years  before  he  offers  to  vote,  who  is  over 
the  ago  of  twentj'-one  years,  is  entitled  to  voto  at  all  elections  by 
the  people,  if  ho  has  resided  in  the  State  one  year  immediately 
preceding  the  election  at  which  ho  offers  to  vote,  and  has  resided 
iu  the  county,  city,  or  town  where  ho  shall  offer  to  voto  at  least 
sixty  davs  immediately  preceding  the  election. 

History— 0-:i  the  9th  April  1682,  the  French  voyager  and  dis- 
coverer La  Salle  took  possession  of  the  country  of  Louisiana  in  the 
name  of  tho  king  of  Franco.  Its  limits  wore  quite  indefinite,  and  in- 
cluded the  present  territory  of  Missouri  (see  Louisiana).  The  first 
settlements  of  Missouri  wore  made  in  Sto  Genevieve  and  at  Kew 
Bourbon,  but  uncertainty  exists  as  to  the  exact  date.  By  soma 
the  year  is  fixed  at  1763  ;  by  others,  and  by  many  traditions,  as 
c.arly  as  1735.  St  Louis  was  settled  by  Pierre  Laclede  Liguest,  a 
native  of  France.  Tho  site  w.as  chosen  in  1763,  and  in  February 
17C4  Augusto  Chouteau  went  at  tho  order  of  Liguest  to  the  spot 
previously  selected,  and  built  a  small  village.  For  a  long  tini« 
the  settlements  wero  confined  to  the  neighbourhood  of  the  river. 
On  the  Slst  of  October  1803  tho  Congress  of  the  United  States 
passed,  ah  Act  by  which  the  president  vi-as  authorized  to  taJM 
pos-icssicn  of  the  tenitory  according  to  the  treaty  of  Pajis,  and  tho 
formal  transfer  of  Lower  Louisiana  was  made  on  20th  Decembcc 


M  I  S  — M  I  T 


627 


loC3.  In  1801  Co'igrcsi  diTidcd  the  territory  into  two  portions. 
The  northern  part,  conunonly  called  Uppar  Louisiana,  was  taken 
possession  of  in  March  1804.  In  June  1812  Missouri  waa  organ- 
ued  as  a  Territory,  with  a  governor  and  general  assembly.  The 
first  governor  (1813-1820)  was  'Williain  Clarke.  hi  1818 
Mlssonri  applied  for  admission  to  the  Union  as  a  State.  Two 
years  of  bitter  controversy  followed,  which  convulsed  the  country 
and  threatened  the  dissolution  of  the  Union.  This  controversy 
followed  a  resolution  introduced  into  Congress  which  had  in  view 
an  anti-slavery  restriction  upon  the  admission  of  Missouri  to  the 
Union.  This  was  at  last  settled  by  the  adoption  of  the  "  Missouri 
compromise,"  which  forbade  slavery  in  all  that  portion  of  the  Louisi- 
ana purchase  lying  north  of  36°  30"  except  in  Missouri,  and  on 
19th  July  1820  ilissouri  was  admitted  to  the  Union.  A  conven- 
tion to  frame  a  constitution  had  ali'eady  been  called,  and  the 
constitution  then  adopted  remained  without  material  change  until 
1865.  The  first  general  assembly  under  the  constitution  met  in 
St  Louis  in  September  1820,  and  Alexander  M'Nair  was  chosen 
governor  in  August.  The  seat  of  government  was  fixed  at  St 
Charles  in  1820,  and  removed  to  Jeferson  City,  the  present  State 
capital,  in  1826.  The  first  census  of  the  State  was  taken  in  1821, 
when  the  number  of  inhabitants  was  found  to  be  70,647,  of  whom 
11,254  were  slaves.  In  the  Black  Hawk  war  in  18S2,  the  Florida 
war  in  1837,  and  the  Mexican  war  in  1846  Missouri,  volunteer 
troops  did  their  share  of  the  work.  In  the  troubles  in  Kansas,  and 
the  bitter  discussion  upon  the  question  of  slavery,  Missouri  was 
deeply  involved,  A  strong  feeling  in  favour  of  secession  showed 
itself  in  many  parts  of  the  State.  Governor  Jackson,  in  Ms 
inaugural  address  on  the  4th  of  January  1861,  said  that  Missouri 
must  stand  by  the  slaveholding  States,  whatever  might  be  their 
course.  The  election  of  a  majority  of  Union  men,  however,  as 
delegates  to  a  convention  called  to  consider  the  affairs  of  the 
nation,,  showed  that  public  sentiment  was  hostile  to  secession,  and 
the  convention  adjourned  \rithout  committing  the  State  to  the 
secession  party.  United  States  troops  were  soon  gathered  at  St 
Louis,  and  forces  were  also  sent  to  Jefferson  City,  and  to  Rolla. 
Governor  Jackson  fled  from  the  capital,  and  summoned  aU  the 
State  troops  to  meet  him  at  Booneville.  General  Lyon  defeated 
these  troops,  17th  June  1861,  and  soon  most  of  the  State  was 
under  the  control  of  the  United  States  forces.  The  State  conven- 
tion was  reassembled.  This  body  declared  vacant  the  offices  of 
governor,  lieutenant-governor,  and  secretary  of  state,  and  filled 
mem  by  appointment.  The  seats  of  the  members  of  the  legislature 
wore  also  declared  vacant.  Governor  Jackson  soon  issued  a  pro- 
clamation declaring  the  State  'out  of  the  Union,  and  Confederate 
forces  wefb  assembled  in  large  numbers  in  the  south-western  part 
of  the  State.  General  Lyon  was  killed  at  the  battle  of  Wilson's 
Creek  near  Springfield,  and  General  Fremont,  commanding  tho 
department  of  the  west,  decreed  martial  law  throughout  the  State. 
For  a  year  matters  were  favourable  to  the  Confederates,  and  at  the 
opening  of  1862  their  troops  held  nearly  half  the  State ;  but  in 
February  a  Federal  force  under  General  Curtis  drove  General  Price 
into  Arkansas.  He  returned  in  1864,  and  overran  a  largo  part  of 
the  State,  but  was  finally  forced  to  reticat,  and  but  little  further 
trouble  arose  in  Missouri  during  the  war.  Missouri  furnished  to 
the  United  States  army  during  the  war  108,773  troops.  In  1865 
a  new  constitution  was  adopted  by  the  people.  In  1869  the  XT. 
Amendment  to  the  United  States  constitution  was  adopted  by  a  large 
majority.  In  1875  still  another  State  constitution  was  drawn  up 
by  a  convention  called  for  that  purpose,  and  ratified  by  the  people, 
and  is  now  the  fundamental  law  of  he  State.  (M.  S.  S.) 

MISTLETOE '  (Viscum  album,  L.),  a  species  of  Viscum, 
of  the  family  Loranthacese.  The  whole  genus  ia  parasitical, 
and  seventy-six  species  have  been  described ;  but  only  the 
mistletoe  proper  is  a  native  of  Europe.  It  forios  an  ever- 
green bush,  about  4  feet  in  length,  thickly  crowded  with 
(falsely)  dichotomous  branches  and  opposite  leaves.  The 
leaves  are  about  2  inches  long,  obovate-lanceolate,  yellowish 
gi-een ;  the  dioecious  flowers,  which  are  small  and  nearly 
of  the  same  colour  but  yellower,  appear  in  February  and 
March ;  the  fruit,  which  when  ripe  is  filled  with  a  viscous 
semltransparent  pulp  (whence  birdlime  ia  derived),  is 
almost  always  white,  but  there  is  said  to  be  a  variety  with 
red  fruit.  The  mistletoe  is  parasitic  both  on  deciduous  and 
evergreen  trees  and  shrubs,  and  "  it  would  be  difficult  to 

'  Greek  l^ia  or  i{(Jr,  hence  Latin  viscum,  Italian  vischio  or  msco, 
r.nd  French  gui.  The  English  word  is  tho  Anglo-Saxon  misteltan, 
Icelandic  mistelteinn,  in  which  tan  or  teinn  means  a  twig,  and  mhtd 
may  be  associated  either  with  mist  in  the  sense  of  fog,  gloom,  because 
of  the  prominence  of  mistletoe  in  the  dark  season  of  the  year,  or  with 
the  same  root  in  tho  sense  of  dung  (from  the  character  of  the  berries 
or  the  supposed  mode  of  propagation). 


say  on  what  dicofcyledonoui!  trees  it  does  not  grow" 
(Loudon).  In  England  it  is  most  abundant  on  the  apple 
tree,  but  rarely  found  on  the  oak.  The  fruit  is  eaten  by 
most  frugivorou.^  birds,  and  through  their  agency,  particu- 
larly that  of  the  thrush  (hence,  missel-thrush  or  mistle- 
thrush),  the  plant  is  propagated^  (The  Latin  proverb  has 
it  that  "Turdua  malum  sibi  cac3.t";  but  the  sowing  ia 
really  efiected  by  the  bird  wiping  its  beak,  to  which  the 
seeds  adhere,  against  the  bark  of  tho  tree  on  which  it  has 
alighted.)  The  growth  of  the  plant  is  slow,  and  its  dura- 
bility proportionately  great,  its  death  being  determined 
generally  by  that  of  the  treo  on  which  it  has  established 
itself.  See  Loudon,  Arboretum,  et  Fruiiceium  Brkannicum, 
vol  iL  p.  1021  (1838).  The  mistletoe  so  extensively  used 
in  England  at  Christmas  tide  is  largely  derived  from  the 
apple  orchards  of  Normandy. 

Pliny  (H.  N.,  xvi.  92-95;  xxiv.  6)  has  a  good  deal  to  tell  about 
the  viscum,  a  deadly  parasite,  though  slower  in  its  action  than  ivy. 
He  distinguishes  three  ''genera.''  **0n  the  fir  and  larch  grows 
what  is  called  stclis  in  Euboea  and  hyphcar  in  Arcadia. "  Viscumj 
called  dryos  hyphcar^  is  most  plentiful  on  the  esculent  oak 
(quercus),  but  occurs  also  on  the  robur,  Prunus  sylvestris,  and 
terebinth.  Hyphear  is  useful  for  fattening  cattle  if  they  are  hardy 
enough  to  withstand  the  purgative  effect  it  produces  at  first ; 
viscum  is  medicinally  of  valne  as  an  emollient,  and  in  cases  of 
tumour,  ulcers,  and  the  like;  and  ho  also  notes  it  "coneeptum 
fcemiuarum  adjuvare  si  omnino  secum  habeant.'*  Pliny  is  also  our 
authority  for  the  i:everence  in  which  the  mistletoe  when  found 
growing  on  the  robur  was  held  by  the  Druids.  The  robur,  he  says, 
13  their  sacred  tree,  and  whatever  is  found  growing  upon  it  they 
regard  as  sent  from  heaven  and  as  the  mark  of  a  tree  chosen  by 
Gwi  Such  cases  of  parasitism  are  rare,  and  when  they  occur 
attract  much  attention  (est  autem  id  tarum  admodum  inventu  et 
repertum  magna  religione  petitur),  particularly  on  the  sixth  (day 
of  the)  moon,  with  which  tneir  months  and  years  and,  after  the 
lapse  of  thirty  years,  their  "agec  "  begin.  Calling  it  in  their  own 
language  "all  heal"  (omnia  sanantem),  after  their  sacrifices  and 
banquets  have  been  duly  prepared  under  the  tree,  they  bi-ing  near 
two  white  bulls  whose  horns  are  then  for  the  first  time  bound. 
The  priest  clothed  with  a  white  robe  ascends  the  ti'ee,  cuts  [the 
mistletoe]  with  a  golden  hook;  it  is  caught  in  a  white  mantle. 
They  then  slay  the  victims,  praying  God  to  prosper  His  gift  to  them 
unto  whom  He  has  given  it.  Prepared  as  a  draught,  it  is  used  as  a 
cure  for  sterility  ana  a  remedy  for  poisons.  The  mistletoe  figures 
also  in  Scandinavian  legend  as  having  furnished  the  material  of 
the  arrow  with  which  Baldur  (the  sun-god)  was  slain  by  the  blind 
god  Hiider.  Most  probably  this  story  had  its  origin  in  a  particular 
theory  as  to  the  meaning  of  the  word  mistletoe. 

MITAU  (the  Lettish  Jelgava),  a  town  of  Eussia,  capital 
of  the  government  of  Courland.  It  is  situated  27  miles 
by  rai).  to  the  south-west  of  Riga,  on  the  right  bank  of  tho 
river  Aa,  in  a  fertUe  plain  which  rises  only  12  feet  above 
sea-levsl,  and  which  probably  has  given  its  name  to  the  tow;i 
(Mitts  in  der  Aue).  At  high  water  the  plain  and  sometimes 
also  the  town  are  inundated.  Mitau  is  surrounded  by  a 
canal  occupying  the  place  of  former  fortifications.  Another 
canal  waa  dug  through  the  town  to  provide  it  vrith  water; 
but  this  now  receives  the  sewage,  and  water  is  brought  in 
cars  from  a  distance  of  S  miles.  Though  so  near  Riga, 
Mitau  has  quite  a  difEerenc  character.  It  has  regular 
broad  streets,  bordered  with  the  lovr  pretty  mansions  of 
the  German  nobility  who  reside  at  the  capital  of  Courland 
either  to  enjoy  the  social  amusements  for  which  Mitau  is 
renowned  or  to  provide  education  to  their  children.  Mitau 
is  well  provided  with  educational  institutions.  A  gym- 
nasium occupies  a  former  palace  of  the  dukes  of  Courland, 
and  has  a  rich  library;  and  there  are  about  forty  other 
schools.  The  town  is  also  the  seat  of  a  society  of  art  and 
literature,  of  a  natural  history  society,  which  has  a  good 
local  museum,  and  of  tho  Lettish  Literary  Society.  The  old 
castle  of  the  dukes  of  Courland,  which  has  witnessed  so 
many  conflicts,  was  destroyed  by  the  Duke  Bu-on,  who 
erected  in  its  place  a  spacious  palace,  now  occupied  by  the 
governor  and  the  courts.  Mitau  has  22,200  inhabitants, 
mainly  Gfermans,  but  including  also  Jews  (about  COCO), 
Letts  (5000),  and  Russians.     Manufactures  are  few,  those 


528 


I  T 


of  wrouglit-iron  ware  and  of  white-lead  being  the  most  im- 
portant. •  The  river  Aa  brings  Mitau  in  connexion  with  the 
trade  of  Riga,  small  vessels  carrying  goods  to  the  amount 
of  about  £150,000  a  year. 

Mitau  is  supposed  to  have  been  founded  in  1266  by  the  grand- 
master Conrad  Slandern.  It  has  often  changed  its  rulers.'  In 
1345,  when  it  was  plundered  by  Lithuanians,  it  was  aheady  an 
important  town.  In  1561  it  became  the  residence  of  the  dukes  of 
Oourland.  During  the  17th  century  it  was  thrice  taken  by  the 
Swedes.  Russia  annexed  it  with  Courland  in  1795.  At  the  be- 
^ning  of  this  century  it  was  the  residence  of  the  count  of 
Provence  (afterwards  Louis  XVIII.).  In  1812  it  was  taken  by 
Napoleon  I. 

MITCHEL,  Ormsby  M'Knight  (1810-1862),  American 
general  and  writer  on  astronomy,  was  born  in  Union  county, 
Kentucky,  August  23,  1810.  He  began  life  aa  a  clerk, 
but,  obtaining  an  appointment  to  a  cadetship  at  West  Point 
in  1825,  he  graduated  there  in  1829,  and  became  assistant 
professor  of  mathematics  in  1831.  Subsequently  he  was 
called  to  the  bar,  but  forsook  law  to  become  professor  of 
mathematics  and  natural  philosophy  at  Cincinnati  college. 
There  he  established  an  observatory,  of  which  he  became 
director.  From  1859  to  1861  he  was  director  of  the 
Dudley  observatory  at  Albany.  He  took  part  in  the  war 
as  brigadier-general  of  volunteers,  and  for  his  skill  and 
rapidity  in  seizing  certain  important  strategic  points  was 
on  April  11,.1862,  made  major-general.  He  died  of  yellow 
fever  at  Beaufort,  South  Carolina,  October  30,  1862. 
Besides  making  important  improvements  on  several  astrono- 
mical instruments,  Mitchel  was  the  author  of  several  works 
on  astronomy,  the  principal  of  which  are  The  Planetary 
and  Stellar  Worlds  (1848)  and  The  Orbs  of  Heaven  (1851). 
See  Memoir  by  Headley  (1865). 

MITCHELL,  Sir  Thomas  Livingstone  (1792-1855), 
Australian  explorer,  was  a  son  of  Mitchell  of  Craigend, 
Stirlingshire,  where  he  was  born,  June  16,  1792.  From 
1808  to  the  end  of  the  Peninsular  War  he  served  in 
Wellington's  army,  and  for  his  services  received  the  medal 
and  five  clasps,  and  was  raised  to  the  rank  of  m.ajor.  He 
was  appointed  to  sui-vey  the  battlefields  of  the  Peninsula, 
and  his  map  of  the  Lower  Pyrenees  is  still  admired.  In 
1827  he  was  appointed  deputy  surveyor-general,  and  after- 
wards surveyor-general,  of  New  South  Wales.  He  devoted 
himself  to  the  exploration  of  Australia,  making  four 
expeditions  for  that  purpose  between  1831  and  1846. 
During  these  expeditions  he  discovered  the  Peel,  the 
Namoi,.  the  Gwyder,  and  other  rivers,  traced  the  course 
of  the  Darling  and  Glenelg,  and  was  the  first  to  pene- 
trate into  that  portion  of  the  country  which  he  named 
Australia  Felix.  His  last  expedition  was  mainly  devoted 
to  the  discovery  of  a'  route  between  Sydney  and  the  Gulf 
of  Carpentaria,  and  during  the  journey  he  explored  the 
Fitzroy  Downs,  and  discovered  the  Balonne,  Victoria, 
Warrego,  and  other  streams.  In  1838,  while  in  England, 
Mitchell  published  the  narrative  of  his  first  three  journeys, 
Three  Expeditions  into  the  Interior  of  East  Australia  (2 
vols.).  In  1839  he  was  knighted  and  made  a  D.O.L.  of 
Oxford.  During  this  visit  he  took  with  him  some  of  the 
first  specimens  of  gold  and  the  first  diamond  found  in  the 
country.  In  1848  the  narrative  of  his  second  expedition 
was  pubKshed  in  London,  Journal  of  an  Expedition  into 
the  Interior  of  Tropical  Australia.  In  1851  he  was  sent 
to  report  on  the  Bathurst  gold-fields,  and  in  1853  he  again 
visited  England  and  patented  his  boomerang  propeller  ior 
steamers.  He  died  at  his  residence  at  Darling  Point, 
Sydney,  October  5,  1855. 

Besides  the  above  works,  Mitchell  wrote  a  book  on  Geographical 
end  Militanj  Surveying  (1827),  an  Australian  Ocography^  Slid  a 
translation  of  tlio  Lusiad  of  Camoens. 

MITE.  Mites  (Acarina)  are  minute  creatures  which 
form  a  large  division  of  the  Arachnida,  distinguished  by 


-MIT 

the  absence  of  any  constriction  between  the  cophalothcrax 
and  abdomen.  Linucciis  included  all  in  the  single  geni;s 
Acarus.  They  are  now  divided  into  several  families  (mostly 
containing  numerous  genera), 
viz.,  Trombidiids!  (harvest  , 
mites),  usually  scarlet  specks  ' 
seen  running  on  stones,  grass, 
ic,  in  hot  weather ;  Teira- 
nychi,  which,  although  not 
bright  red,  are  the  red  spider 
of  our  green-houses,  and  are 
distinguished  by  feet  with 
knobbed  hairs ;  Bddlida:, 
long-snouted  mites  with  an- 
tenniform  palpi ;  Ckeyletidm 
(fig.  1),  the  so-called  book 
mites, — ferocious,  predatory 
little  beings,  quite  uncon- 
nected with  books ;  Hydrachnidx,  freshwater  mites  with 
swimming  legs,  mostly  beautiful  creatures  of  brilliant 
colours;  Limnocaridse,  crawling  freshwater  or  mud  mites; 
Halicarid^,  chiefly  marine  ;  Gamasidm,  hard-skinned  brown 
mites  often  parasitic  on  insects,  and  best  known  by  .the 
females,  and  young  of  both  sexes,  found  on  the  common 
dung  beetle  (Oeotrupes  stercorarius) ;  Ixodidm,  the  tmo 
ticks,  not  to  be  confounded  with  the  sheep-tick,  &c.,  whick 


-CheyUius  flabdli/er. 


Fio.  2. — Leiosoma  palmicinctum  ;  nympb. 
are  wingless  flies ;  Oribatidse,  beetle  mites,  so  called  from 
their  resemblance  to  minute  beetles  (these  are  never 
parasitic;  they  undergo  transformations  almost  as  strange 
as  those  of  insects,  many  of  the  immature  forms  being 
quaint  and  beautiful,  see  fig.  2);  Myobiadie,  bizarre  para- 
sites of  the  mouse,  &c.,  with  peculiar  holding  claws ; 
Tyroglypkidx,  the  cheese  mites ;  Analgids,  found  on  the 
feathers  of  birds  ;  Sarcoptid-m,  the  itch  mites  ;  Arctisconidic, 
the  water  bears ;  Demodicidee,  found  in  the  sebaceous 
follicles  of  the  human  nose,  &c. ;  and  Phytoptidx,  the  gali 
mites,  which  attack  the  leaves  of  plants,  making  tiny  gall- 
Uke  excrescences. 

The  sexes  are  distinct  individuals;  the  reproduction  is 
oviparous;  the  larva  is  almost  always  hexapod,  though  the 
later  stages  have  eight  legs ;  that  answering  to  the  pupa  of 
insects  is  active,  and  is  called  the  nymph.  The  breathing 
in  the  first-named  eleven  families  is  tracheal,  the  position  of 
the  stigmata  varjdng  greatlj' ;  in  the  last-named  six  families 
it  is  by  the  general  body  surface.  No  heart  or  circulation  of 
the  blood  is  known  to  exist ;  the  alimentary  canal  is  usually 
somewhat  on  the  insect  type,  but  with  cKcal  prolongations 
to  the  stomach,  the  reproductive  organs  often  more  on  the 
crustacean  type.  There  is  generally  a  single  very  large 
nerve-ganglion  above  the  oesophagus,  sending  nerve-branches 
to   the   various   parts.     The  legs  hr.ve  ordinarily  five  to 


I T— M I T 


529 


seven  joints,  rarely  three;  the  feet  are  usnally  terminated 
by  claws  or  suckers,  or  both,  sometimes  by  bristles.  Tue 
mandibles  are  generally  large,  oftenest  chelate  (like  a 
lobsters  claw),  sometimes  style-like  piercing  organs,  and 
of  other  forms.  The  maxilla:  vary  much:  they  may  be 
piercing  or  crushing  organs,  or  may  coalesce  to  form  a 
maxillary  lip;  there  is  ustiaUy  one  pair  of  maxillary  palpi, 
no  others.  Sometimes  there  is  a  lingua,  and  iu  the 
Gamasidx  a  galea.     Antennae  are  not  found. 

Mites  are  distributed  all  over  the  known  world.  They 
have  been  found  in  Franz-Josef's  Land  and  Spitzbergen 
and  in  the  hottest  tropical  regions,  as  well  as  the  temperate 
zones.  Often  very  similar  .species  come  from  all  parts. 
They  are  numerous  in  amber  of  the  Tertiary  epoch. 

The  best-known  species  are  probably  those  which  injure 
man  or  his  works,  viz.,  the  itch  mite,  the  cheese  mite,  the 
scM»Ued  harvest-bug,  and  the  red  iipider.  The  dog-tick 
is  also  well  known. 

The  itch  mite  (Sarcoptet  scabiei,  fig.  3)  is  a  minute,  almost 
circular,  flattened,  colourless  creature,  with  skin  covered 
with  wavy  wrinkles,  and  a  number  of  triangular  points 
arising  from  that  of  the  back ;  legs  short,  the  two  front 
pairs  and  the  fourth  pair  in  the  male  terminated  by  suckers 
on  long  stalks,  the  two  hind 
pairs  in  the  female  and  third 
pair  in  the  male  having  long 
bristles  instead.  It  is  parasitic 
on  human  beings:  the  males 
and  young  remain  chiefly  on 
the  surface  of  the  skin,  but 
are  difficult  to  find;  the  female 
burrows  under  the  scarf-skin, 
causing  the  intense  itching 
of  scabies  by  the  action  of 
her  chelate  mandibles  as  she 
eats  her ,  way.  A  small 
watery  pustule  is  raised  near 
where  the  acarus  has  entered 
the  skin,  and  others  arise ; 
the  creature  is  not  found  in  F'«;.3;-Th'Ite''Mi'f  (*«''i'.<" 
»!.  ^  1     u   X     X  iL    f     .1.      'cabiei) ;  reniale.    After  Meguin. 

the  pustule,  but  at  the  further 

end  of  a  short  tunnel  which  may  be  half  an  inch  long.  The 
eggs  are  laid,  in  the  tunnel  after  the  acarus  has  passed; 
they  hatch  and  multiply  rapidly.  The  disease  can  be 
certainly  cured  ;  the  usual  mode  is  to  rub  the  whole  body 
with  sulphur  ointment,  which  is  best  done  after  a  warm 
bath,  allow  it  to  remain  on  all  night,  and  wash  off  in  the 
morning.  This  treatment  should  be  repeated  once  or  twice 
at  intervals  of  a  day  or  two.  Other  applications  of  sulphur, 
as  sulphijrons  acid,  sulphur  vapour  baths,  <te.,  are  efficacious. 
All  clothes  which  have  touched  the  skin  must  be  disinfected 
by  heat.  The  disease  is  highly  contagious.  Most  mammals 
have  their  peculiar  varieties  of  itch  mite. 

The  cheese  mite  (Tyroglyph-as  siro)  is  an  elliptical,  fat- 
bodied,  colourless  acarus  with  smooth  skin  and  very  long 
hairs.  It  breeds  iu  thousands  in  old  cheese,  flour,  grain,  (fee, 
and  does  much  damage.  There  are  numerous  allied  species ; 
some  belonging  to  the  genus  Glyciphagiis  are  elegantly 
ornamented  with  plumes  or  leaf-like  hairs. 

The  red-spider  {Tetranyclms  tdarius)  attacks  the  leaves 
of  plants  or  trees,  and  is  a  great  pest  in  green-houses.  It 
spins  a  slight  web  on  the  surface  of  the  leaves,  and  lives  in 
companies  on  the  web ;  it  is  of  a  rusty  red  or  brown. 

The  harvest  bugs,  thought  by  some  ivritcrs  to  be  a 
species,  and  by  them  called  Leptus  antumiKiHf,  are  simply  the 
larvae  of  several  species  of  Trombidium.  They  are  prcdatorj-, 
but  will  attach  theni.-.elves  temporarily  to  the  human  skin, 
and  produce  the  violent  itching  felt  on  the  lower  parts  of 
the  legs  after  walldng  through  dry  grass  in  autumn.  On 
inspection   with   a  gl;..'!s  the  creature   may  be  seen  as  a 

■    li;— 20 


minute  scarlet  point.  A  drop  of  beniiiie  will  prubably  get 
rid  of  the  intruder. 

The  dog  tick,  like  the  harvest-Dug,  is  not  rcaily  parasitic 
on  mammals,  though  it  attaches  itself  tempoiariiy;  its 
ordiriury  food  may  ;)robably  be  vegetable.  (a.  d.  m.) 

MITFOED,  Maev  Russell  (1786-1 855),  born  at  Aires- 
ford,  Hampshire,  on  the  IGth  of  December  1786,  retains 
an  honourable  place  in  English  literature  as  the  authore-s 
of  Our  Tillage,  a  series  of  sketches  of  village  scenes  ani! 
characters  unsurpassed  in  their  kind,  and  after  half  a 
ceutu-TT  of  in'.itations  as  fre^h  as  if  they  had  been  writtci 
yesterday.  AVashington  Irving  was  iliss  Mitford's  literary 
model,  but  her  work  is  thoroughly  original  and  spontaneous, 
the  free  outflow  of  a  singularly  charming  character.  The 
shortest  account  of  her  life  would  be  incomplete  without  a 
reference  to  the  scapegrace  father  who  was  the  centre  of 
her  affections,  and  the  "  only  begetter  "  of  all  that  is  most 
delightful  and  characteristic  in  her  writing.  Dr  Slitford 
first  spent  his  wife's  fortune  in  a  few  years;  then  he  spent 
also  in  a  few  years  the  greater  part  of  £20,000  which  his 
daughter  drew  (in  1797,  at  the  age  of  ten)  as  a  prize  in  a 
lottery;  then  he  lived,  for  most  years  of  his  life,  on  a 
small  remnant  of  his  fortune  and  the  proceeds  of  his 
daughter's  literary  industry.  In  the  little  village  of  Thi-ee 
MOe  Cross,  near  Reading,  in  a  small  cottage  which  Jliss 
Mitford  says  was  "a  fine  lesson  in  condensation,"  ihi 
doctor  was  the  stay,  support,  and  admiration  of  all  the 
loafers  in  the  neighbourhood,  while  his  daughter,  who  had 
called  herself  his  mamma,  and  treated  him  as  her  little  coy 
from  the  time  when  she  was  herself  a  little  girl,  found  ai( 
unfailing  charm  in  his  "friskings,"  and  was  the  loving 
slave  of  all  his  good-humoured  exactions.  The  father  kept 
fresh  in  his  daughter  the  keen  delight  iu  incongruities, 
the  lively  sympathy  with  self-willed  vigorous  individuality, 
and  the  womanly  tolerance  of  its  excess  which  inspire  sc 
many  of  her  sketches  of  character.  The  woman  who  lived 
in  close  attendance  on  such  an  "  awful  dad,"  refused  all 
holiday  invitations  because  he  could  not  live  without  her; 
and  worked  incessantly  for  him,  except  when  she  broke  oS 
her  work  to  read  him  the  sporting  newspapers,  evidently 
wrote  from  the  heart  in  her  bright  portraits  of  such 
characters  as  the  Talking  Lady,  the  Talking  Gentleman, 
Joel  Brent,  Jack  Rppley,  Tom  Cordery,  Lizzy,  Lucy,  and 
Harriet.  Her  writing  has  all  the  charm  of  perfectly 
unaffected  spontaneous  humour,  combined  with  quick  wit 
and  exquisite  literary  skill.     She  died  January  10,  1855. 

Miss  Mitford's  youthful  ambition  was  to  bo  "  the  gicatest  English 
poetess,"  and  her  first  publications  were  jwems  in  the  manner  of 
Coleridge  and  Scott  {Miscellaneous  Verses,  1810,  of  sufficient  mark 
to  be  reviewed  by  Scott  iu  the  QimrUrly  ;  Christine,  a  metrical  tale, 
1811  ;  Blanche,  1813).  Later  on  she  essayed  writing  [iliys  {Julian, 
1823  ;  The  Foscari,  1826  ;  Dramatic  Scenes,  1827  ;  Ritnti,  182S  : 
Charles  the  First,  1828).  But  the  prose  to  which  she  was  driven  by 
domestic  necessities  lias  rarer  qnalitie.s  than  her  verso.  The  firet 
series  of  Our  Village  sketches  appeared  in  1824,  a  second  in  1826, 
a  third  in  1828,  a  fourth  in  1830,  a  fifth  in  1832,  ami  Belford  Regis, 
a  novel  in  which  the  neighbourhood  and  society  of  Reading  were 
idealized,  in  1835.  Her  Recollections  of  a  Literary  Life  (1853)  i» 
a  series  oicauscrics  about  her  favourite  books.  Five  volumes  of  her 
Life  and  Letters  were  published  in  1870  and  1872,  sliowiug  her  to 
have  been  a  delightful  letter-miter  ;  two  volumes  of  lettci-s  to  her 
appeared  in  1882. 

MITHRADATES,  oj,  as  it  is  often  wrongly  spelt, 
MiTHRiDATES  (i.e.,  "  given  by  the  god  Mithras "),  was  a 
favourite  name  of  the  Pontic  kings  in  the  third  and  second 
centuries  B.C.,  and  was  also  common  in  Persia  and  the 
neighbouring  countries.  The  dynasty  of  Pontus  was  a 
Persian  family,  claiming  descent  from  the  Achsmenid*, 
and  the  earliest  of  them  known  in  history  was  satrap 
under  the  Persian  empire.  When  that  empire  was  destroyed 
Mithradates  11.  made  himself  king  of  Pontus;  and  ho  and 
his  successors  gradually  spread  their  power  over  a  great 


530 


M  I  T  —  M  I  T 


part  of  Cappadocia  and  Paphlagonia.  Several  of  them 
intermarried  with  the  Seleucidic  and  other  Greek  royal 
families,  and  something  of  the  Hellenic  civilization  was 
engrafted  on  the  native  non-Hellenic  character  of  the 
kingdom.  The  names  Mithradates,  Pharnaces,  and  Ariobar- 
zanes,  all  non-Hellenic,  alternate  in  the  family.  The  pro- 
vince of  Phrygia  was  sold  in  the  most  scandalous  way  by 
the  Roman  consul  Aquillius  to  Mithradates  V.,  who  died 
probably  in  J  20  B.C.  He  was  succeeded  by  his  son 
Jlithradates  Eiipator,  sixth  of  the  name,  one  of  those 
remarkable  conquerors  that  arise  from  time  to  time  in  the 
East.  He  was  a  boy  when  his  father  died,  and  for  seven 
years  lived  the  wandering  life  of  a  hunter  pursued  by 
assassins.  His  courage,  his  wonderful  bodily  strength  and 
size,  his  skill  in  the  use  of  weapons,  in  riding,  and  in  the 
chase,  his  speed  of  foot,  his  capacity  for  eating  and  drink- 
ing, and  at  the  same  time  his  quick  and  penetrating 
intellect,  his  wonderful  mastery  of  twenty-two  languages, — 
all  these  quaUties  are  celebrated  by  the  ancients  to  a  degree 
which  is  almost  incredible.  With  a  surface  gloss  of  Greek 
education,  he  united  the  subtlety,  the  superstition,  and  the 
obstinate  endurance  of  an  Oriental.  He  was  a  virtuoso, 
and  collected  curiosities  and  works  of  art;  he  assembled 
Greek  men  of  letters  round  him;  he  gave  prizes  to  the 
greatest  poets  and  the  best  eaters.  He  spent  much  of  his 
time  in  practising  magic  arts,  the  interpretation  of  dreams, 
and  other  superstitious  ceremonies ;  and  it  was  believed 
that  he  had  so  saturated  his  body  with  poisons  that  none 
could  injure  him.  He  trusted  no  one;  he  murdered  his 
nearest  relations,  his  mother,  his  sons,  the  sister  whom  he 
had  married ;  to  prevent  his  harem  from  falling  a  trophy 
to  his  enemies  he  murdered  all  his  concubines,  and  his 
most  faithful  followers  were  never  safe.  He  once  dis- 
appeared from  his  palace,  no  one  knew  whither,  and 
returned  aftet'some  months,  havLng  wandered  over  all  Asia 
Minor  in  disguise.  "^  Except  in  tl"  ^  pages  of  romance  or  the 
tales  of  the  Thoumiul  and  One  Nights  it  would  be  difficult 
to  find  anything  to  rival  the  account  given  of  Mithradates 
by  the  gravest  of  historians.  These  qualities/fitted  him  to 
be  the  opponent  of  Roman  arms  in  Asia  Mi^or,  to  be  the 
cha-mpion  of  the  East  in  its  struggle  against  the  destroying 
and  yet  civilizing  power  of  the  West.  He  resisted  the 
Romans  for  eighteen  years,  yet  we  can  hardly  credit  him 
with  much  real  generalship  or  organizing  power.  He 
■could  collect  masses  of  men  and  hurl  them  against  the 
Roman  legions ;  everything  that  boundless  energy  and 
loundIe.-is  hatred  could  do  he  did ;  but  the  strength  of  his 
opposition  to  the  Romans  lay  in  the  fact  that  all  the  dislike 
inspired  by  Rome  in  the  worst  and  most  cruel  time  of  her 
rule  was  arrayed  on  his  side. 

No  direct  collision  took  place  between  the  Romans  and 
Mithradates  for  thirty-two  years,  though  the  republic  took 
■away  Phrygia  from  him  in  120  B.C.,  and  several  times 
th'.varted  his  designs  in  Paphlagonia  and  Cappadocia. 
Th>3  rupture  came  about  the  time  of  the  Social  War. 
Mithradates,  prompted,  it  is  said,  by  envoys  from  the  Italian 
allies,  Uiok  advantage  of  the  intestine  struggles  in  Italy. 
War  broke  out  in  88,  on  the  ostensible  cause  of  disputes 
about  the  kingdom  of  Bithynia;  Mithradates  rapidly 
overran  Galatia,  Phrygia,  and  Asia,  defeated  the  Roman 
armies,  and  made  a  general  mas-sacre  of  the  Romans 
resident  in  Asia.  He^lso  sent  large  armies  into  Europer^ 
Greece,  and  his  generals  occupied  Athen.s.  But  Sulla  in 
Greece  and  Fimbria  in  Asia  defeated  his  armies  in  several 
battles  ;  the  Greek  cities  were  disgusted  by  his  severity, 
and  in  84  B.C.  he  concluded  peace,  abandoning  all  his  con- 
quests, surrendering  seventy  shijis,  and  paying  a  fine  of 
2000  talents.  Iil'orena  in/aded  Pontus  without  any  good 
reason  in  83,  but  was  defeated  in  82.  Difficulties  con- 
^lallll^  aroso  betwe^^n  the  two  adversaries,  and  in  74  a 


general  war  broke  out.  Mithradates  defeated  Cotta,  one 
of  the  Roman  consuls,  at  Chalcedon  ;  but  Lucullus  worsted 
him  in  several  engagements,  and  drove  him  finally  in  72 
B.C.  to  take  refuge  in  Armenia  with  his  son-in-law  Tigranes. 
After  two  great  victories  in  69  and  68,  Lucullus  was  dis- 
concerted by  mutiny  among  his  troops  and  the  defeat  of 
his  lieutenant  Fabius  (see  vol.  xv.  p.  56).  In  66  he  was 
superseded  by  Pompey,  v/ho  completely  defeated  both 
Jilithradates  and  Tigranes.  The  former  established  him- 
self in  64  at  Panticapsum,  and  was  planning  new 
campaigns  against  the  Romans  when  his  own  troops 
revolted,  and,  after  vainly  trying  to  poison  himself,  he 
ordered  a  Gallic  mercenary  to  kill  him.  So  perished  the 
greatest  enemy  that  the  Romans  had  to  encounter  in  Asia, 
Minor.  His  body  was  sent  to  Pompey,  who  buried  it  in 
the  royal  sepulchre  at  Sinope. 

MITHRAS  was  a  Persian  god  whose  worship  spread 
over  the  Roman  world  during  the  2d  and  ,3d  centuries 
after  Christ.  His  name  is  found  in  the  oldest  records  of 
the  East  Aryan  races.  In  the  Rig-Veda,  Mitra,  i.e.,  the 
friend,  and  Varuna,  i.e.,  Oi!pa!/o9,  are  a  pair  of  gods  regularly 
associated  :  they  denote  the  heaven  of  day  and  the  heaven 
of  night.  Mithras  is  therefore  by  origin  the  god  of  the 
bright  heaven  and  of  day,  closely  related  in  conception  to, 
and  yet  expressly  distinguished  from,  the  sun.  In  the 
developed  Old  Persian  religion  of  Zoroaster  Mithras  retained 
a  place ;  he  was  not  one  of  the  greatest  gods,  but  was 
first  of  a  triad  whicli,  while  less  pure  embodiments  of  the 
divine  nature,  were  more  easy  for  men  to  comprehend  and 
to  worship.  The  seventh  month,  which  bears  his  name,  and 
the  sixteenth  day  of  every  month  were  sacred  to  Mithras; 
prayers  were  offered  to  him  at  sunrise,  at  mid-day,  and 
at  sunset.  When  the  Persians  conquered  Assyria  and 
Babylonia  their  religion  was  much  affected  by  the  worship 
of  these  more  educated  races.  The  worship  of  foreign 
deities  was  introduced,  that  of  Persian  deities  was  changed 
in  character ;  and  the  gods  were  represented  by  images. 
The  cultus  of  Mithras  now  became  far  more  prominent,  ha 
was  identified  with  the  sun,  and  an  elaborate  ritual  with 
the  non- Aryan  accompaniment  of  mysteries  was  established. 
This  revolution  had  begun  before  Herodotus  (i.  131)  could 
identify  Mithras  with  the  Assyrian  goddess  Mylitta,  and 
it  became  more  thorough  during  the  4th  century  B.C. 

It  is  in  this  most  developed  form  that  we  know  the 
cultus  of  Mithras.  The  god  of  light  becomes  by  a  ready 
transition,  which  is  made  in  the  very  oldest  Aryan  records, 
the  god  of  purity,  of  moral  goodness,  of  knowledge.  There 
goes  on  in  the  world  as  a  whole,  and  in  the  life  of  each 
man,  a  continual  struggle  between  the  power  of  good  and 
the  power  of  evil ;  Mithras  is  always  engaged  in  this  con- 
test, and  his  religion  teaches  all,  men  and  women  alike,  to 
aid  in  the  battle.  Victory  in  this  battle  can  be  gained 
only  by  sacrifice  and  probation,  and  Mithras  is  conceived 
as  always  performing  the  mystic  sacrifice  through  which 
the  good  will  triumph.  The  human  soul,  which  has  been 
separated  from  the  divine  nature  and  has  descended  to 
earth,  can  reascend  and  attain  unipn  with  God  through  a 
process  of  fasting  and  penance  which  is  taught  in  the 
mysteries ;  the  sacrifice  which  is  being  always  offered  by 
Mithras  makes  this  ascent  and  union  possible.  Those 
who  were  initiated  in  the  mysteries  of  Mithras  had  to  pass 
through  a  long  probation,  with  scourging,  fasting,  and 
ordeal  by  water,  and  were  then  admitted  as  soldiers  fighting 
on  behalf  of  Mithras.  This  was  the  lowest  terrestrial 
grade,  but  there  were  still  two  others  to  attain,  the  Bull 
and  the  Lion,  each  involving  further  probation,  before  the 
soul  could  rise  above  the  earth.  It  then  ascended  by  the 
grades  of  Vulture,  Ostrich,  and  Crow  through  the  region 
of  aether ;  and  then  it  strove  to  become  pure  fire  through 
the  grades  of  Gryphon,  of  Perse.s,  and  of  the  Sun.     Finallj 


M  I  T  — M  I  T 


531 


the  soul  attained  complete  union  with  the  divine  nature 
through  the  grades  of  Father  Eagle,  of  Father  Faicon,  and 
of  Father  of  Fathers.  A  holy  cave  on  a  hill  was  the 
central  point  in  the  worship;  and  the  mystic  rites  involved 
watching  and  fasting  all  night  till  sunrise  brought  the 
triumph  of  light. 

The  worship  of  Slithras  became  known  to  the  Romans 
through  the  Cilician  pirates  captured  by  Pompey  about  70 
B.C.  It  gained  a  footing  in  Eome  under  Domitian,  was 
regularly  established  by  Trajan  about  100  A.D.,  and  by 
Comnodus  about  190.  Finally  the  mysteries  were  pro- 
hibited and  the  holy  cave  destroyed  in  378.  Dedicatory 
inscriptions  to  Dto  Soli  Invicto  ilithrse,  and  votive  reliefs 
erf  Boman  work,  are  very  common.  The  usual  representa- 
tion shows  Mithras  in  the  mystic  cave  performing  the 
mystic  sacrifice;  a  young  man  in  Oriental  costume  kneels 
with  one  knee  on  a  prostrate  buU,  grasping  the  head  and 
palling  it  back  with  the  left  hand,  while  with  the  right  he 
plunges  his  sword  into  its  neck.  A  dog,  a  snake,  and  a 
scorpion  drink  the  blood  that  flows  from  the  bull ;  a  crow 
sits  on  the  rock  behind  Mithras ;  the  figures  of  the  sun 
and  of  the  moon  occupy  the  two  sides  of  the  relief. 

See  Lajarde,  Rwhercha  sur  U  CulU  dc  UUhraa. 

MITRE.  See  Costume,  vol.  vi.  p.  463  ;  and  Heealdey, 
vol.  xi.  p.  711. 

MITSCHERLICH,  En.HAnPT  (1794-1863),  was  born 
January  7,  1794,  at  Neuende  near  Jever,  in  the  grand- 
duchy  of  Oldenburg,  where  his  father  was  pastor.  He 
was  educated  at  the  gymnasium  of  Jever  under  the  historian 
Schlossei.  In  1811  he  went  to  Heidelberg,  where  he 
devoted  himself  to  philology,  giving  special  attention  to 
the  Persian  language.  In  1813  he  went  to  Paris,  partly 
for  study,  partly  with  the  view  of  obtaining  permission  to 
join  a  French  embassy  to  Persia.  The  political  events  of 
1814  put  an  end  to  this  scheme,  and  Mitscherlich  returned 
to  Germany.  He  then  set  to  work  on  a  history  of  the 
Ghurides  and  Kara-Chitayens,  manuscript  materials  for 
which  he  found  in  the  university  library  of  Gottingen,  and 
a  portion  of  which  he  published  in  1815.  Still  anxious 
to  visit  Persia,  he  resolved  to  study  medicine  in  order  that 
he  might  enjoy  that  freedom  of  travel  usually  allowed  in 
the  East  to  physicians.  He  began  at  Gottingen  vrith  the 
study  of  chemistry,  and  this  so  completely  arrested  his 
attention  that  he  gave  up  the  idea  of  the  journey  to  Persia 
and  the  medical  profession.  In  1818  he  went  to  Berlin, 
where  he  worked  in  the  laboratory  of  Professor  Link.  He 
made  analyses  of  phosphates  and  phosphites,  arseniates  and 
arsenites,  confirming  the  observations  of  Berzelius  as  to 
their  composition.  In  the  course  of  these  investigations 
he  observed  that  corresponding  phosphates  and  arseniates 
crystallized  in  the  same  form. 

This  was  the  germ  from  which  grew  the  theory  of 
isomorphism.  In  order  to  follow  out  his  discovery 
Jlitscherlich  set  to  work  to  learn  crystallography.  His 
teacher  was  a  fellow  student,  Gustav  Rose,  to  whose 
penetrating  mind  and  profound  knowledge  of  mineralogy 
have  been  due  some  of  the  most  interesting  developments 
and  illustrations  of  the  theory  of  isomorphism.  Having 
measured  the  inclinations  of  the  faces  of  a  vast  number  of 
natural  and  artificial  crystals,  he  established  the  principles 
of  isomorphism  very  much  as  we  now  hold  them. 

It  is  right  that  we  should  remember  that  Mitscherlich 
was  not  the  first  to  notice  the  fact  that  two  different  sub- 
stances might  have  the  same  crystalline  form,  or  that  one 
element  could  partially  replace  another  without  great 
change  of  form.  Rom^  de  I'lsle  in  1772  mentions  mixed 
vitriols  containing  variable  proportions  of  iron  and  copper, 
and  Leblanc  in  1802  showed  that  the  crystalline  form 
remains  the  same  although  the  pjoportions  vary  both  in 
tha  case  of  these  mixed  vitriols  and  in  that  of  mixed 


alums.  Vauquelit  haa  already,  in  1797,  proved  that 
alum  might  contain  variable  quantities  of  ammonia  without 
any  corresponding  variation  of  crystalline  form. 

The  authority  of  Haiiy,  who  laid  down  as  one  of  his 
principles  that  each  compound  has  its  own  crystalline  form, 
for  a  time  kept  these  observations  in  the  background. 
Further  cases  were,  however,  observed.  WoUaston  (1812) 
accurately  measured  the  angles  of  the  rhombohedral 
carbonates,  and  proved  that  the  forms  of  these  minerab, 
although  nearly  the  same,  are  not  absolutely  identical. 
He  showed  that  a  similar  close  approximation  to  identity 
exists  in  the  case  of  the  vitriols.  Fuchs  in  1815  brought 
forward  his  theory  of  "vicarious  constituents."  Gay-' 
Lussac  proved  that  a  crj'stal  of  common  alum  continues  to 
grow  when  placed  in  a  solution  of  ammonia  alam,  and 
cases  of  crystallized  mixtures  were  pointed  out  by  the 
French  mineralogist  Beudant.  But  notwithstanding  these 
foreshadowings,  of  which  we  know,  on  the  evidence  of 
Gustav  Rose,  that  Mitscherlich  was  wholly  ignorant,  the«e 
was  at  the  time  of  which  we  are  now  speaking  no  trace  of 
a  theory,  but  merely  isolated  observations.  The  theory  of 
isomorphism  is  the  work  of  Mitscherlich.  It  was  com- 
municated to  the  Berlin  Academy  on  December  9,  1819. 

In  that  year  Berzelius  paid  a  visit  to  Berlin,  and  was  so 
struck  with  Mitscherlich's  ability  that  he  suggested  him  to 
the  minister  Altenstein  as  the  most  fitting  successor  to 
Klaproth  in  the  chair  of  chemistry  in  that  university.  It 
is  not  surprising  that  this  idea  was  not  carried  out.  It 
was  only  four  years  since  Itfitscherlich  had  begun  to  study 
chemistry ;  he  had  never  lectured,  nor  had  he  published 
anything  on  the  subject. ' 

Although  Altenstein  did  not  at  that  time  carry  out  the 
proposal  of  Berzelius,  he  was  so  far  impressed  by  it  that 
he  obtained  for  Mitccherlich  a  Government  grant  to  enable 
him  to  continue  his  studies  under  Berzelius. 

In  1820  he  went  to  Stockholm,  where  he  worked  for  a 
year  in  Berzelius's  laboratory.  In  1822  he  was  appointed 
extraordinary  and  in  1825  ordinary  professor  in  Berlin, 
In  the  course  of  an  investigation  into  the  slight  differences 
discovered  by  WoUaston  in  the  angles  of  the  rhombohedra 
of  the  carbonates  isomorphous  with  calc-spar,  Mitscherlich 
observed  that  the  angle  in  the  case  of  calc-spar  varied  with 
the  temperature.  On  extending  his  inquiry  to  other  non« 
isotropic  crystals  he  observed  a  similar  variation,  and  was 
thus  led,  in  1825,  to  the  discovery  that  non-isotropic 
crystals,  when  heated,  expand  unequally  in  the  direction  of 
dissimilar  axes.  In  the  following  year  he  discovered  the 
change,  produced  by  change  of  temperature,  in  the  direction 
of  the  optic  axes  of  selenite.  The  discovery  (also  in  1826) 
that  sulphur  can  be  obtained  in  two  absolutely  distinct 
crystalline  forms  threw  much  light  on  the  fact  that  the  two 
minerals  calc-spar  and  aragonite  have  the  same  composition 
but  perfectly  difierent  forms.  Other  cases  of  this  property, 
to  which  Mitscherlich  gave  the  name  of  dimorphism,  were 
arrived  at  not  long  after. 

In  1833  he  made  a  series  of  careful  determinations  of 
the  vapour  densities  of  a  large  number  of  volatile  substances, 
and  proved  that  Gay-Lussac's  law  as  to  the  proportions 
by  volume  in  which  oxygen,  nitrogen,  hydrogen,  and 
chlorine  unite  with  one  another  holds  generally  for  volatile 
elements,  and  that  the  simplicity  of  the  relation  of  the 
volume  of  the  compound  to  that  of  the  component  gases  is 
also  general. 

In  pure  chemistry  Mitscherlich's  discoveries  were  mainly 
connected  with  isomorphism.  Thus  he  obtained  selenic 
acid  in  1827,  and  showed  the  isomorphism  of  its  salts  with 
the  sulphates,  and  examined  with  great  care  the  manganates 
and  permanganates,  showing  their  isomorphism  with  the 
sulphiates  and  with  the  perchlorates  respectively.  But  he 
did  much  important  work  unconnected  with  this  special 


M  I  T  —  ii  N  E 


iiubject.  We  may  in  particular  refer  to  his  discovtry  of 
the  relation  of  benzene  to  benzoic  acid,  of  nitro-benzene, 
and  of  a  considerable  munber  of  the  derivatives  of  benzene. 

In  1833  he  published  his  Lchrbuch  dcr  Chunie,,  a 
student's  text-book  of  chomistrj'  of  the  most  thoroughly 
practical  and  yet  rigidly  scientific  kind,  from  the  study  of 
which  teachers  of  chemistiy  may  still  derive  many  a 
Taiuable  hint.  His  interest  in  mineralogy  led  him  to  the 
jr.tudy  of  the  geo'ogy  of  volcanic  regions,  and  he  made 
frequent  -^Tsits  to  the  Eifel  ■\vith  a  view  to  the  discovery  of 
t,  theory  of  volcanic  action.  He  did  not,  however,  publish 
any  papers  on  the  subject,  but  suice  his  death  his  notes 
have  been  arranged  and  published  by  Dr  Roth  in  the 
^Memoirs  of  the  Berlin  Academy  (1S66).  In  December 
-SGI  symptoms  of  heart  disease  made  their  appearance, 
1  ut  he  was  able  to  carry  on  his  academical  work  till 
}Jecember  1862.  He  died  at  Schoneberg  near  Berlin  on 
;  bth  August  1863. 

ilitscheriich's  publislied  paperB  are  chiefly  to  be  found  in  tlie 
Abliandlu'iiQCH'  of  the  Berlin  Academ}',  in  PoggendoTjTs  Annalcn, 
tnd  in  the  Anrialcs  dc  Chimic  et  dc  Plnjsiquc,  The  fourth  edition 
c f  the  Lehrbuch  der  Chetnic  was  published  in  1844 ;  a  fifth  was 
1  egun  in  1S55,  but  was  not  completed.  (A.  C.  B.) 

MITYLENE,  or  Mytilene.     See  Lesbos. 

MIZPAH  (nBVD)  and  IhzpzS  ("Eyp)  are  Hebrew  words 
for  a  "place  of  prospect,"  or  high  commanding  poini. 
The  cities  of  Palestine  generality  occupied  such  positions ; 
and  so  in  the  Old  Testament  we  find  several  places  bearing 
the  name  of  "  The  Mizpah ''  (Mizpeh).  Sometimes  a 
determining  genitive  is  added ;  "  The  Mizpeh  of  Gilead  " 
(Judg.  xi.  29),  "The  Mizpeh  of  Moab"  (1  Sam.  xxii.  3). 

(1)  The  most  famous  of  these  places  is  that  in  Gilead,  a  noted 
eanctuary  (Judg,  xL  11 ;  Hosea  v.  1),  claiming  consecration  from 
the  sacrifice  of  Jacob  (Genu  xxxi.  54)  and  the  vias^ebci  or  sacred 
etone  erected  by  him  (ver.  46).  The  narrative  of  Gen.  xxxi.  45  sq. 
is  -Eomewbat  obscure,  and  not  all  from  one  hand.  We  gather, 
however,  from  it  that  another  name  of  '*The  Mizpah"  was  Galeed, 
i.e.,  Gilead.  Thus  Mizpah,  Mizpeh  Gilead,  GUead  (Hos,  vi,  8), 
Ramath  Mizpeh  {i.e.,  the  height  of  Slizpeh,  Josh,  xiiL  26),  and 
Ramoth  Gilead  (the  heights  of  Gilead),  or  simply  The  Raraah  (2 
Kino;9  viii,  28,  29),  are  almost  universally  taken  to  be  one  place, 
,With  this  it  agrees  that  Ramoth  Gilead  was  a  city  of  refuge,  which 
points  to  an  early  sanotit)'.  The  place  is  prominent  thi-oughont  the 
hJBtory,  It  was  the  seat  of  Jephthah  (Judg,  xi,),  the  mourning  for 
whose  daughter  probably  gives  us  a  glimpse  into  the  ancient  rites 
of  a  provincial  sanctuary,  the  residence  of  one  of  Solomon's  officers 
(1  Kaogs  iv,  13),  and  a  hotly  disputed  frontier  city  in  the  wars 
between  Syria  and  the  house  of  Omri,  before  which  Allah  fell  (1 
Eijigs  .X.-S  ii, ),  and  in  which  the  military  revolt  of  Jehu  was  organized 
(2  Kings  ix.),  Maspha  was  still  a  strong  place  in  the  Greek  period, 
and  was  taken  by  Judas  Maccabeeus  (1  Mac.  v,  ZU),  Euscbius  knows 
Ramoth  as  a  place  15  miles  west  of  Philadelphia  or  Kabbah  of 
Animon,  It  is  therefore  commonly  identified  ivith  El-Salt,  the 
modem  capital  of  the  Belkil;  but  this  cannot  be  said  to  be  made 
out,  (2)  The  BoDJamite  Mizpah  or  Mizpeh,  also  a  sanctuary,  is 
often  named  in  the  history  of  Samuel.  It  was  a  border  fortress  of 
King  Asa  (1  Kii;;^3  xv,  22),  and  the  residence  of  Gedaliah  as  governor 
of  Judffla  after  the  fall  of  Jerusalem  (Jer,  xl,).  Its  old  sanctity  was 
still  remembered  in  the  Maccabee  times,  and  from  1  Mac,  iii,  id  we 
conclude  that  it  commanded  a  view  of  Jerusalem.  The  most  prob- 
able identification  is  with  the  prominent  hill-top  of  Neby  Samwil, 
There  was  (3)  another  Mizpeh  in  the  low  country  of  Judah  (Jo.'^h, 
XV,  38),  and  (4)  a  laud  or  ^aUey  of  Mizpeh  (Josh,  xi  3,  8)  under 
Jlount  Hermon, 

MNEMONICS,  or  artificial  helps  to  the  memory,  have 
been  employed  in  a  more  or  less  systematic  form  from  a 
(very  early  period.  Mnemonics  (ro  fivrjiioviKov,  sc.  Tixv-qf-a- 
or  TupayyiXjxa)  were  much  cultivated  by  Greek  sophists 
and  philosophers,  and  are  repeatedly  referred  to  by  Plato 
and  Aristotle,  In  later  times  the  invention  was  ascribed 
to  the  poet  Simonides,'  perhaps  for  no  other  reason  than 
that  the  strength  of  his  memory  was  famous,  Cicero,  whp 
attaches  considerable  importance  to  the  art,  but  more  to 
the  principle  of  order  as  the  best  help  to  memory,  speaks 


'  PlSny,  n.  JV,,  rii,  24,     Cicero,  De  Or.,  il.  86,  mentions  lliis  tslicf 
vithout  committing  himself  to  it 


of  Carncados  (or  perhaps  Charmadei)  of  Athens  and  Metro- 
dorus  of  Scepsis  as  djstiriguished  examples  of  the  use  of 
wsU-ordered  images  to  aid  the  memory.  The  latter  is 
f;aid  by  Pliny  to  have  carried  the  art  so  far  ut  nihil  noji 
iisdem  verbis  redderet  auditum.  The  Romans  valued  such 
helps  as  giving  facility  in  public  speaking.  The  method 
u.sed  is  described  by  the  author  of  Ehet.  ad  ITeren.,  iii.  li> 
24;  see  also  Quintilian  (iTist.  Or.,  x.  1,  2),  whose  account  is,' 
however,  somewhat  incomplete  and  obscure.  In  bis  time 
the  art  had  almost  ceased  to  be  practised,  "The  Greek  and 
Roman  system  of  mnemonics  was  founded  on  the  use  cf 
mental  places  and  signs  or  pictures.  The  thing  to  be  re- 
membered was  localized  in  the  imagination,  and  associated 
with  a  symbol  which  concretely  represented  what  it  was 
desired  to  retain  in  the  memory,  special  care  being  taken 
that  the  symbols  should  be  as  vivid,  pleasing,  and  impres- 
sive as  possible.  The  most  usual  method  was  to  choose 
a  large  house,  of  which  the  apartments,  walls,  windoivs, 
statues,  furniture,  &c.,  were  severally  associated  with  cer- 
tain names,  phrases,  events,  or  ideas,  by  means  of  symbolic 
pictures ;  and  to  recall  these  it  was  only  necessary  to  seajch 
over  the  apartments  of  the  house,  till  the  particular  place 
was  discovered  where  they  had  been  deposited  by  the  ima^ 
gination.  As  the  things  td  be  remembered  increased,  new 
houses  could  ba  built,  each  Eet  apart  to  a  certain  class  of 
ideas  or  events,  and  these  houses  were  again  constructed 
into  a  mnemonic  town.  In  accordance  with  this  system, 
if  it  were  desired  to  fix  an  historic  date  in  the  memory,  it 
was  localized  in  an  imaginary  to'mi  divided  into  a  certain 
number  of  districts,  each  with  ten  houses,  each  house  with 
ten  rooms,  and  each  room  with  a  hundred  quadrates  or 
memory-places,  partly  on  the  floor,  partly  on  the  four  wall-Sj 
partly  on  the  roof.  Thus,  if  it  were  desired  to  fix  in  thd 
memory  the  date  of  the  invention  of  printing  (1436),  an 
imaginary  book,  or  some  other  symbol  of  printing,  would 
be  placed  in  the  thirty-sLxth  quadrate  or  memory-place 
of  the  fourth  room  of  the  first  house  of  the  historic  district 
of  the  town.  The  success  of  the  method  depended  largely 
on  the  power  of  the  imagination  to  give  the  diS"erent  houses, 
rooms,  &c.,  characteristic  varieties  of  aspect,  and  we  may 
suppose  that  it  was  the  effort  to  frame  suitable  images  and 
places,  giving  an  adventitious  interest  to  dry  details,  that 
constituted  the  real  advantage  of  the  system.  Except  that 
the  rules  of  mnemonics  are  referred  to  by  Martianus 
Capella,  nothing  fm-ther  is  known  regarding  the  practice 
of  the  art  until  the  13th  centmy,  when  the  system  of  the 
Romans  was  revived  and  a  good  many  treatises '  were 
published  on  the  subject.  Among  the  voluminous  writ- 
ings of  Roger  Bacon  is  a  tractate  De  Arte  Memorativa, 
which  exists  in  JIS,  at  Oxford,  Raymond  Lully  devoted 
special  attention  to  mnemonics  in  conneidon  with  his  an 
fjfcneralis.  .  The  first  important  modification  of  the  method 
of  the  Romans  was  that  invented  by  Conrad  Ccltes,  al 
German  poet,  who,  in  his  Epitoma  in  utramque  Ciceronis 
rhetoricam  cum  arte  memorativa  nova  (1492),  instead  of 
places  made  use  of  the  letters  of  the  alphabet.  About 
the  end  of  the  1 5th  century  Petrus  de  Ravenna  awakened 
such  astonishment  in  Italy  by  his  mnemonic  feats  that  he 
was  believed  by  many  to  be  a  necromancer.  His  Phoenix 
Artis  MeKwriw,  pubUshed  at  Venice  in  1 491  in  four  volumesj 
went  through  as  many  as  nine  editions,  the  seventh  appear- 
ing at  Cologne  in  1608,  An  impression  equally  great  was 
produced  about  the  end  of  tho  16th  century  by  Lambert 
Schenkel,  who  taught  mnemonics  in  France,  Italy,  and 
Germany,  and,  although  he  was  denounced  as  a  sorcerer  by 
the  university  of  Louvain,  pubb'shed  in  1593  his  tractate 
De  Mcmoria  at  Douai  %vith  the  sanction  of  that  celebrated 
theological  faculty,  Tho  most  complete  account  of  his  sy,s- 
tcm  Ls  given  in  two  works  by  his  pupil  Martin  Sommcr,  pub- 
lished at  Venice  in  1G19.     Giordano  Bruno,  in  connexion 


M  O  A  — M  O  A 


533 


■with  his  exposition  of  the  ars  tfeneroKs  of  Lully,  inoiudcd 
a  memona  (cchnica  in  his  treatise  De  Umbrii  Idearum. 

About  the  middle  of  the  17th  century  Winckelmann  made 
known  what  he  called  the  "  most  fertile  secret "  in  mne- 
monics, namely  the  use  of  Isttars  with  figures  so  as  to  express 
numbers  by  words ;  and  the  philosopher  Leibnitz  adopted 
an  alphabet  very  similar  to  that  of  Winckelmann  in  con- 
nexion with  his  scheme  for  a  form  of  "JTritiag  common  to  all 
languages.  Winckelmann's  method  vras  modified  and  sup- 
plemented in  regard  to  many  details  by  Richard  Grey,  who 
published  a  Memoria  Technica  in  1730.  The  principal 
part  of  Grey's  method  is  briefly  this  :  "  To  remember  any- 
thing in  history,  chronology,  geography,  <fec.,  a  word  is 
formed,  the  beginning  whereof  being  the  first  syllable  or 
syllables  of  the  thing  sought,  does,  by  frequent  repetition, 
of  course  draw  after  it  the  latter  part,  which  is  so  contrived 
as  to  give  the-  answer.  Thus,  in  history,  the  Deluge 
happened  in  the  year  before  Christ  two  thousand  three 
hundred  forty-eight ;  this  is  signified  by  the  word  Delrfoi, 
Del  standing  for  Deluge  and  etoh  for  2348."  To  assist  in 
retaining  the  mnemonical  words  in  the  memory  they  were 
formed  into  memorial  lines.  The  vowel  or  consonant 
which  Grey  connected  with  a  particular  figure  wzs  chosen 
arbitrarily ;  but  in  1806  Feinaigle,  a  monk  from  Salem 
near  Constance,  began  in  Paris  to  expound  a  system 
of  mnemonics,  one  feature  of  ■which  was  to  represent  the 
numerical  figures  by  letters,  chosen  on  account  of  some 
similarity  to  the  figure  to  be  represented  or  some  accidental 
connexion  with  it.  This  alphabet  was  supplemented  by 
a  complicated  system  of  localities  and  signs,  with  the  aim 
of  expressing,  by  a  more  vivid  and  impressive  symbol,  ideas 
which  for  want  of  this  are  apt  to  pass  from  the  memory, 
and  of  establishing  between  ideas  of  the  same  group  an 
intimate  relation,  so  that  the  mention  of  the  one  would  sug- 
gest the  other.  Feinaigle,  who  published  a  Notice  sur  la 
mnimonique  at  Paris  in  1805,  came  to  England  in  1811, 
and  in  the  fallowing  year  published  The  New  Art  of 
Memory.  A  simplified  form  of  Feinaigle's  method  was 
published  in  1823  by  Aim6  Paris,'  and  the  use  of  symbolic 
pictures  ■was  revived  in  connexion  with  the  latter  by  a 
Pole,  Jazwinsky,  of  whose  system  an  account  was  pub- 
lished by  J.  Bem,  under  the  title  Expose  General  de  la 
Metkode  Mnemonique  Polonaise,  perfectionnee  A  Paris,  Paris, 
1839.  Various  other  modifications  of  the  systems  of 
Feinaigle  and  AimA  Paris  were  advocated  by  subsequent 
mnemonists,  among  them  being  the  Phrenotyping  or 
Brain-Printing  method  of  Beniowsky,  the  Phreno-Mnemo- 
techny  of  Gouraud,  and  the  Mnemotechuik  of  Carl  Otto, 
a  Dane.  The  more  complicated  mnemonic  systems  have 
fallen  almost  into  complete  disuse ;  but  methods  founded 
chiefly  on  the  laws  of  association  have  been  taught  with 
some  success  in  Germany  by,  among  others,  Kothe,  who  is 
the  author  of  Lehrhtich  da-  Mnemonik,  and  Katechismus 
der  Geditchtnisskmist,  both  of  which  have  gone  through 
several  editions ;  and  in  England  by  Dr.  Ed^ward  Pick, 
whose  Memory  and  the  Rational  Means  of  Improving  it 
has  also  obtained  a  wide  circulation.  In  certain  cases 
mnemonical  devices  may  be  found  of  considerable  service ; 
but  all  systems  which  have  aimed  at  completeness  have 
been  found  rather  to  puzzle  than  aid  the  memory.  The 
fullest  history  of  mnemonics,  is  that  given  by  J.  C.  F.  von 
Aretin  in  his  SystematUche  Aideitung  zvr  Theorie  U7id 
Praxis  der  Mnemonik,  1810. 

MOA.     See  Dinornis. 

MOAB.  Moab  and  Ammon  (children  of  Lot)  consti- 
cute  along  with  Edom  and  Israel  (children  of  Isaac)  that 
group  of  four  Hebrew  peoples  which  in  early  antiquity  had 
issued  from  the  Syro-Arabian  ■wilderness,  and  settled  on 
the  border  of  the  cultivated  country  eastward  of  the  great 
depression  which  extends  from  the  Gulf  of  Elath  to  tha 


Dead  Sea,  and  up  the  valloy  of  the  Ji-)rdin.  .\cr?:-J'Dg  to 
the  book  of  Genesis,  they  had  3omo  out  of  Mesopotamia, 
and- 30  were  precursors  of  ths  larger  -wave  wliich  followed 
from  the  same  quarter,  forming  the  most  southern  outpost 
of  the  AramaM.n  immigration  into  the  lands  of  Canaan 
and  Heth.  Whether  the  Hebrews  were  originally  .Ara- 
maeans is  questionable,  but  it  is  certain  that,  like  the 
Aramaeans,  they  were  distinct  from  the  Canaanites,  whose 
conquerors  they  were.  Such  was  the  relation  of  the  old 
and  new  inhabitants,  not  only  in  Western  Palestine  after 
the  Israelite  occupation,  but  also,  and  from  a  muoh  earlier 
period,  in  Eastern  Palestine,  where  the  aborigines  were 
-Amorites — that  is,  Canaanites — and  vrhere  the  Bne  Ammon 
and  Moab  and  the  Bne  Isaac  successively  settled  in  their 
lands.  The  old  population  did  not  disappear  before  the 
conquerors,  but  continued  to  subsist  among  them.  In 
a  considerable  district — namely,  in  Gilead — the  Amorite-s 
even  remained  unsubdued,  and  thus  formed  a  gap,  only 
imperfectly  filled  up  by  the  Bne  Ammon,  between  the 
Hebrew  line  of  immigration  on  the  south  and  the  Ara- 
maean line  more  to  the  north, — a  gap  which  did  not  begin 
to  close  until  the  historical  period.  From  this  district 
they  even  endeavoured,  and  with  some  success,  as  ■wiU  be 
afterwards  seen,  to  recover  the  territory  which  had  been 
taken  from  them  in  the  south.  But  where  they  were  the 
subjects  of  the  Hebrews  they  constituted  the  basis  of  the 
population,  the  mainstock  of  the  working  and  trading 
classes.  The  extent  of  their  influence  over  the  conquerors 
may  be  judged  from  the  fact  that  it  was  their  speech 
which  gained  the  upper  hand.  The  Moabites,  and  doubt- 
less also  the  Ammonites  and  Edomites,  spoke  the  language 
of  Canaan  as  well  as  the  Israelites.  They  must  have 
learned  it  from  the  Canaanites  in  the  land  eastward  of 
Jordan,  prior  to  the  period  at  which  Jacob  immigrated  to 
and  returned  from  Egypt.  Our  knowledge  is  extremely 
imperfect  as  regards  other  departments  of  the  Canaanite 
influence ;  but  in  religion  it  has  left  a  noticeable  trace  in 
the  cultus  of  Baal-Peor,  which  was  carried  on  in  Moabita 
territory,  but  was  certainly  of  Canaanite  origin. 

The  assumption  that  the  change  of  language  was  first  hrougtt 
about  by  the  Israelite^  in  the  land  which  is  called  by  preference 
that  of  Cauaan,  is  rendered  untenable  by  the  fact  that  the  Moabittts 
also  spoke  Canaanitish.  It  is  vain  to  urge  against  the  identity  of 
Hebrew  and  Canaanitish  th^  distinction  between  Phcenician  and 
Hebrew ;  for  doubtless  similar  distinctions  existed  between  the 
dialect  of  the  Phoenician  coast  towns  and  that  of  the  Hivites, 
-Amorites,  and  Cauaanitcs  generally,  whose  language  the  Hebrews 
borrowed.  That  the  Aramaeans  of  Damascus,  who  also  were  com- 
pelled to  mingle  \vith  the  Hethites  in  the  country  of  which  they 
had  taken  possession,  nevertheless  retained  their  original  tongue  is 
to  be  explained  by  the  circumstance  that  they  continued  to  maintaic 
direct  relations  with  the  mother-eountry  of  Mesopotamia,  and  mora- 
over  had  greater  internal  cohesion.  The  designation  Amorites, 
usually  given  in  the  Old  Testament  to  the  original  inhabitants 
of  Eastern  Palestine,  is  substantially  synonymous  with  that  of 
Canaanites,  although  not  quite  so  comprehensive.  The  Palestine 
of  the  Pre-Israelitio  period,  which  in  the  Pentateuch  is  called  the 
Land  of  Canaan,  figures  in  -Amos  as  the  Land  of  the  Amorites. 
While,  however,  the  former  name  is  bestowed  chiefly  upon  that 
portion  of  the  earlier  population  which  had  remained  unconquered, 
the  latter  is  given  to  the  portion  against  which  the  Israelites  first 
directed  their  attack  and  in  wboeo  territory  they  settled.  This  took 
place  in  the  mountain  district,  first  to  the  east  .%nd  afterwards  to  the 
west  of  Jordan.  For  this  reason  the  Amorites,  as  contrasted  with 
the  Canaanites  of  the  cities  of  the  level  country,  are  a  highland 
race,  like  the  Hebrews  themselves,  but  belong  exclusively  to  the 
past.  In  the  time  of  the  Biblical  narrators,  the  Canaanites  are  stOl 
living  here  and  there  in  the  land,  but  the  Amorites  have  once  lived 
where  the  Israelites  now  are.  This  explains  the  fact  that,  while  in 
ordinary  peaceful  circumstances  the  Canaanites  are  named  as  the 
old  inhabitants,  the  .Amorites  are  immediately  substituted  for  them 
wherever  war  and  conquest  are  spoken  of.  Sihon  and  Og,  with 
whom  Moses  does  battle,  are  kings  of  the  Amorites  ;  in  like  manner 
it  is  with  the  twelve  kings  of  the  Amorites  that  Joshua  has  to  deal 
westward  of  the  Jordan.  The  Amorites  as  an  extinct  race  of  cotirso 
-•xssume  a  half-mythical  character,  and  are  represented  as  giants,  tuU 
as  cedars  and  strong  as  oaks. 


■)34 


M  O  A  B 


Just  as  Israel  was  the  people  of  Jehovah,  and  Ammon 
the  people  of  Milcom,  Moab  was  the  people  of  Chemosh 
(V)03,  Num.  ijd.  29).  The  kingship  of  Chemosh  was 
regarded  as  thoroughly  national  and  political  in  its  char- 
acter, but  did  not  on  that  account  exclude  the  institution 
of  a  human  king,  which  existed  in  Moab  much  earlier  than 
in  Israel ;  in  the  time  of  Moses  the  Moabites  had  a  king, 
and  the  institution  was  even  then  an  old  one.  The  capitals 
of  the  kingdom  were  Ar-Moab  and  Kir-Moab,  south  from 
the  Amon  ;  these  were  not,  however,  the  constant  residences 
of  the  kings,  who  continued  to  live  in  their  native  places, 
sls,  for  example,  Mesha  in  Dibon.  Doubtless  there  were 
changes  of  dynasty,  and  traces  exist  of  a  powerful  aristocracy 
(Ariele  Moab ;  2  Sam.  xxiii.  20). 

The  land  of  the  Moabites,  the  Balkd,  is  bounded  north- 
ward and  southward  by  Mount  Gilead  and  Wadi  'l-AhsA, 
westward  and  eastward  by  the  Dead  Sea  and  the  Wilder- 
ness ;  it  is  divided  into  two  portions  by  the  deep  bed  of 
the  Amon,  that  to  the  north  being  the  more  level  (Mishor), 
and  that  to  the  south  being  more  broken  up,  and  consti- 
tuting the  proper  stronghold  of  the  nation.  The  soil  is 
peculiarly  adapted  for  sheep-farming  (2  Kings  iii)  and  the 
culture  of  the  vine  (Isa.  xvi.).^ 

The  historical  importance  of  the  Moabites  lies  wholly  in 
their  contact  with  Israel,  and  we  have  no  knowledge  of 
them  apart  from  this.  After  the  Israelites  had  quitted 
Egypt  and  passed  a  nomadic  life  for  about  a  generation  in 
the  neighbourhood  of  Kadesh,  they  migrated  thence,  still 
under  the  leadership  of  Moses,  into  northern  Moab,  dis- 
possessing the  Amorites,  who  had  made  themselves  masters 
of  that  district.  The  interval  from  Kadesh  to  the  Amon 
could  be  passed  only  by  a  good  understanding  with  Edom, 
Moab,  and  Ammon, — a  proof  that  the  ethnical  relationships, 
which  at  a  later  period  were  expressed  only  in  legend,  were 
at  that  time  stiU  living  and  practical.  In  all  probability 
the  Moabites  called  the  Israelites  to  their  aid ;  they  were 
not  as  yet  aware  that  this  little  pastoral  people  was  des- 
tined one  day  to  become  to  them  a  greater  danger  than 
the  Canaanites  by  whom ,  they  were  threatened  at  the 
moment.^ 

As  the  story  of  Balaam  indicates,  the  Moabites  would 
willingly  have  been  rid  of  their  cousins  after  their  service 
had  been  rendered,  but  were  unable  to  prevent  them  from 
settling  in  the  land  of  Sihon.  The  migration  of  the  tribes 
of  Israel  into  Western  Palestine,  however,  and  the  dissolu- 
tion of  their  warlike  confederation  soon  afterwards  made  a 
restoration  of  the  old  frontiers  possible.  If  King  Eglon 
took  tribute  of  Benjamin  at  Jericho,  the  territory  between 
Amon  and  Jordan  must  also  have  been  subject  to  him,  and 


^  Tliere  does  not  seem  to  have  been  any  difference  in  this  respect 
between  tlie  northern  and  Eoiitheni  portions ;  jnstead  of  Heshbon, 
Sibmah,  and  Jaezer(Isa.  xvi.),  the  poet  Hatim  of  Tayyi,  a  tittle  before 
Mohammed,  names  Maab  and  Zoar  as  the  chief  wine  centres  (Yakut, 
i».  377,  19). 

'  The  facts  as  a  whole  are  indubitable ;  it  cannot  be  an  invention 
that  the  Israelites  settled  first  ia  Kadesh,  then  in  northern  Moab,  and 
thence  passed  into  Palestine  proper.  The  only  doubtful  point  is 
whether  the  song  in  Num.  xx\.  27  sqij.  is  contemporary  evidence 
of  these  events.-  It  is  cert-ainly  not  a  forgery,  but  it  is  a  ques- 
tion whether  it  really  refers  to  the  destruction  of  the  kingdom  of  the 
Amorites  at  Ueshbon.  This  reference  rests  entirely  upon  the  words 
IID'D  *"IDN  TIPdS,  which  niijht  very  well  bo  omitted  as  a  mere  gloss, 
ill  which  cnse  the  song  would  naturally  bo  understood  as  directed  against 
the  Moabites  themselves  ;  it  is  in  this  last  sense  that  it  is  taken  by  the 
author  of  Jcr.  xlviii.  (Comp.  E.  Meyer  In  Stade's  Zcitschr.  f.  A  Tliclie 
Wisscnsch.,  1881,  p.  129  S57.)  As  Israel  got  the  better  of  the  Amorites 
on  the  plain  of  Moab,  so  did  Hadad  king  of  tho  Edomites  vanquish  the 
Midianites  on  tho  "field"  of  Moab  (Gen.  xixvL  35)  ;  this  took  place 
in  Gideon's  time,  as  is  bor.ic  out  by  tho  fact  that  between  Hadad  and 
the  downfall  of  iho  mcwvX  Edoniile  monarchy,  i.e.  to  the  period  of 
David,  there  weio  four  reigning  princes.  Conlusod  recollections  of  a 
fnriiier  settlement  of  the  Midianites  in  northern  Uoab  are  seen  in 
Nnm.  xxii.  •),  7;  -::v.  IS 


Reuben  must  even  then  have  lost  his  land,  or  at  least  his 
liberty.  It  would  appear  that  the  Moabites  next  extended 
their  attacks  to  Mount  Gilead,  giving  their  support  to  the 
Ammonites,  who,  during  the  period  of  the  judges,  were  its 
leading  assailant.s.  So  close  was  the  connexion  between 
Moab  and  Ammon  that  the  boundary  between  them  vanishes 
for  the  narrators  (Judges  xi.). 

Gilead  was  delivered  from  the  Ammonites  by  Saul,  who 
at  the  same  tim«  waged  a  successful  war  against  Moab ;  the 
fact  is  lightly  touched  upon  in  1  Sam.  xiv.  47,  as  if  this 
were  a  matter  of  course.  The  establishment  of  the  mon- 
archy necessarily  involved  Israel  in  feuds  with  its  neighbours 
and  kin.  The  Moabites  being  the  enemies  of  the  Israelite 
kingdom,  David  naturally  sent  his  people  for  shelter  thither 
when  he  had  broken  wdth  Saul ;  the  incident  is  precisely 
analogous  to  what  happened  when  he  himself  at  a  later 
period  took  refuge  from  Saul's  persecution  in  Philistine 
territory,  and  needs  no  explanation  from  the  book  of  Buth. 
As  soon  as  he  ceased  to  be  the  king's  enemy  by  himself 
becoming  king,  his  relations  with  Moab  became  precisely 
those  of  his  predecessor.  The  war  in  which  apparently 
casual  circumstances  involved  him  with  Hanim  ben  Nahash 
of  Ammon  really  arose  out  of  larger  causes,  and  thus  spread 
to  Moab  and  Edom  as  weU.  The  end  of  it  was  that  all 
the  three  Hebrew  nationalities  were  incorporated  with  the 
kingdom  of  Israel ;  the  youngest  brother  eclipsed  and  sub- 
dued his  seniors,  as  Balaam  had  foreseen.  Through  the 
work  of  Saul  and  David  the  political  system  of  Palestine 
was  altogether  changed :  the  smaller  peoples  were  no  longer 
a  match  for  Israel,  which  established  a  decisive  prejKinder- 
ance,  and  transformed  what  had  hitherto  been  jealousy  on 
the  part  of  Moab  and  Ammon  as  well  as  of  Edom  into 
bitter  hatred  ;  this  hatred  did  not  cease  even  after  nothing 
but  a  religious  shadow  remained  of  what  had  once  been  the 
political  supremacy  of  the  people  of  Jehovah. 

The  struggle  with  Ammon  which  David  began  ultimately 
assumed  larger  dimensions,  and  brought  the  Aramaeans 
also  into  the  field  against  him.  He  was  successful,  indeed, 
against  them  also,  and  destroyed  their  most  powerful 
kingdom ;  but  after  his  death  they  recovered  themselves, 
and  pressed  steadily  on  from  the  borders  of  the  wilderness 
towards  the  sea ;  at  their  head  were  those  kings  of  Damascus 
who  had  established  themselves  on  the  ruins  of  Zoba.  In 
presence  of  these  enemies  the  already  fading  distinction 
between  the  ruling  and  the  subject  nationality  within  the 
kingdom  of  Israel  now  completely  disappeared ;  and  even 
towaids  the  Canaanites  outside  the  relations  of  the  kings 
became  friendly.  It  is  in  one  instance  expressly  stated 
that  the  common  danger  threatening  from  the  East  had 
to  do  with  this  (2  Sam.  viii.  9  sqq.).  But,  conversely,  it 
was  natural  that  Ammon  and  Moab  should  make  common 
cause  with  the  Arama-ans ;  such  an  attitude  was  suggested 
by  geographical  jiosition  and  old  connexions,  but  above 
ail  by  their  helpless  fury  against  Israel.  Both  nationalities 
must  have  succeeded  in  emancipating  themselves  very  soon 
after  David's  death,  and  only  now  and  then  was  some  strong 
king  of  Israel  able  again  to  impose  the  yoke  for  a  time,  not 
upon  the  Ammonites  indeed,  but  upon  Moab.  The  first  to  do 
so  was  Omri,  who  garrisoned  a  number  of  their  towns  and 
compelled  the  king  to  acknowledge  Israel's  suzerainty  by 
a  yearly  tribute  of  sheep, — a  state  of  matters  which  con- 
tinued until  the  death  of  Ahab  ben  Omri.  But  when  that 
brave  king  fell  in  battle  with  the  Aramaeans  at  Kamoth 
Gilead  (about  850  B.C.),  Mesha  of  Dibon,  then  tho  ruler 
of  Moab,  seized  the  favourable  opportunity  to  make  him- 
self and  his  people  independent.  In  his  famous  inscription 
he  tells  how,  throu;.'h  tlie  v.rath  of  Chemosh,  the  land  had 
fallen  into  the  enemy's  power  and  endured  forty  years  of 
slavery,  and  how  by  the  grace  of  Chemosh  the  yoke  is  now 
broken  and  the  Israelites  ignominiously  driven  off.     In. 


M  O  A  B 


535 


the  Bible  we  find  only  the  curt  statement  that  Moab 
rebelled  against  Israel  after  the  death  of  Ahab  (2  Kings  i.); 
on  the  other  hand,  there  is  a  fvdl  narrative  of  a  later  attempt 
on  the  part  of  Joram  ben  Ahab  to  bring  Mesha  again 
into  subjection — an  attempt  which  promised  very  well  at 
first,  but  ultimately  failed  completely.  Joram's  invasion 
took  place  not  from  the  north-  but  (probably  very  unex- 
pectedly to  the  enemy)  from  the  frontier  of  Edom  over 
the  Wadi  '1-Ahs4;  he  marched  through  Judah  and  Edom, 
and  the  kings  of  those  countries  served  as  auxiliaries. 
He  defeated  a  Moabite  army  on  the  frontier,  penetrated 
into  the  country  and  laid  it  wast« ;  he  laid  siege  to  the 
fortress  of  Kir-Moab  so  closely  as  to  reduce  it  to  great 
straits,  tut  these  straits  seem  to  have  filled  the  besieged 
^vith  a  desperate  courage,  for  the  fortunes  of  war  suddenly 
changed.  The  Israelites  were  compelled  to  retir«  home- 
ward, a  great  wrath  (of  Jehovah)  having  come  upon  them, 
that  is,  a  severe  disaster  having  befallen  them,  which  is 
not  described,  but,  from  the  nature  of  the  case,  must  have 
been  a  sudden  surprise  and  defeat  by  the  enemy.' 

As  the  Moabites  owed  their  liberation  from  Israelite 
supremacy  to  the  battle  of  Bamah — that  is,  to  the 
Aramseans — we  accordingly  find  them  (as  well  as  the 
Ammonites)  afterwards  always  seconding  the  Aramaaans  in 
continual  border  warfare  against  Gilead,  in  which  they 
took  cruel  revenge  on  the  Israelites.  With  what  bitterness 
the  latter  in  consequence  were  wont  to  speak  of  their 
hostile  kinsfolk  can  be  gathered  from  Gen.  xix.  30  sqq. — 
the  one  trace -of  open  malice  in  the  story  of  the  patriarchs, 
and  all  the  more  striking  as  it  occurs  in  a  narrative  of 
which  Lot  is  the  hero  and  saint,  which  therefore  in  its 
present  form  is  of  Moabite  origin,  although  perhaps  it  has 
a,  still  older  Canaanite  nucleus.  Of  these  border  wars 
we  learn  but  little,  although  from  casual  notices  it  can  be 
seen  (2  Kings  yiii.  20 ;  Amos  L  13  ;  comp.  2  Kings  v. 
2)  that  they  were  long  kept  up,  although  not  quite 
uninterruptedly.  But  when  at  length  the  danger  from 
the  Aramaeans  was  removed  for  Israel  by  tie  inter- 
vention of  the  Assyrians,  the  hour  of  Moab's  subjection 
also  came ;  Jeroboam  IL  extended  his  frontier  over  the 
eastern  territory,  as  far  as  to  the  brook  of  the  willows 
^Wadi  '1-Ahs4).  (Perhaps  the  song  of  Num.  xxL  27  sqq. 
Jias  reference  to  these  events.)  A  vivid  picture  of  the 
confusion  and  anguish  then  prevalent  in  Moab  has  been 
preserved  to  us  in  the  ancient  prophecy  of  Isa.  rv.,  xvi., 
ivhich  indeed  would  have  greater  historical  value  if  we 
were  able  to  tell  precisely  what  in  it  depicts  the  present. 
And  what  is  prediction  of  the  future.^ 

This  utterance  of  an  older  prophet  was  repeated  some 


*  The  narrative  of  Mesha  in  his  inscription  h.TS,  etrange  to  say,  not 
onfrequently  been  regarded  as  parallel  with  2  Kings  iii.,  andthe  con- 
dasiOQ  been  drawn  that  the  Biblical  narrative  completely  inverts  the 
true  state  of  the  case, — it  is  diiBciilt  to  see  for  what  motives,  for  there 
M  no  braggadocio  in  2  Kings  iii.  But  it  is  perfectly  clear  that  the 
Jlarrative  of  2  Kings  iii.  presupposes  the  revolt  of  Mesha  as  an  old 
affair ;  while,  en  the  other  h.and,  Mesha's  story  on  the  stele  in  the 
lonvre  is  a  narrative  of  this  very  revolt  and  its  immediate  consequences ; 
jl  is  accordingly  to  be  regarded  as  paitillel  with  2  Kings  L  1.  Elisha's 
miracle  in  Wadi  'l-Ahsa  (2  Kings  iii  16)  is  explained  by  the  locality  ; 
Ahsa  means  a  sandy  ground  with  moist  subsoil,  where,  by  digging 
♦reaches,  water  is  always  obtainable.  The  (probably  compulsory)  par- 
ticipation of  the  king  of  Edom  in  Joram's  expedition  against  Moab 
jnay  perhaps  be  brought  into  connexion  with  the  fact  that- the  Moabites 
burned  to  lime  the  bones  of  a  king  of  Edom  (Amos  ii.  1). 

*  In  Isa."xv.  xvi.  it  is  presupposed  that  the  attack  upon  Moab  has 
V-en  made  from  the  north,  at  a  time  when  Judah  is  a  comparatively 

*  jjowerful  kingdom,  exerci-sing  sovereignty  over  Edom  also,  and  in  a 
P'.sition  to  afford  shelter  to  the  fugitive  Moabites,  thus  not  being 
itself  at  war  with  them.  These  marks  taken  together  can  only  apply 
to  the  period  of  Jeroboam  II.  and  Uzzialu  Hitzig  will  have  it  that 
Jonah  ben  Amittai  wrote  Isa.  xv.  xvi. ;  but  accoixiing  to  2  Kings  xiv. 
U5  that  proi'hct  preached  prosperity  to  Jeroboam,  and  not  di^^aster 
4P  *^  MnabitAs. 


decennia  later  by  the  prophet  Isaiah,  with  the  addition  of 
a  clause  adapting  it  to  his  time,  to  the  effect  that  the 
Assyrians  would  carry  out  in  all  it.s  fulness  the  hitherto 
imperfectly-executed  threat.  The  Assyrians  actually  sub- 
•jugated  the  Moabites,  as  well  as  the  other  small  peoples  of 
that  region ;  but  the  blow  was  apparently  not  so  grave  as 
Isaiah  had  predicted.  They  lay  more  out  of  the  way  than 
their  western  neighbours,  and  perhaps  their  resistance  to 
the  scoiu'ge  of  God  was  not  so  obstinate  as  to  demand  the 
sharpest  measures.  What  made  it  all  the  easier  for  them 
to  reconcile  themselves  to  the  new  situation  was  the  fact 
that  the  Israelites  stiifered  much  more  severely  than  they. 
From  these  their  deadly  enemies  thej'  were  henceforth  for 
ever  free.  They  did  not  on  that  account,  however,  give  up 
their  old  hatred,  but  merely  transferred  it  from  Israel  to 
Judah.  The  political  annihilation  of  the  nation  only  inten- 
sified in  Jerusalem  the  belief  in  its  religious  prerogative,  and 
against  this  belief  the  hostility  of  neighbours  was  aroused 
more  keenly  than  ever.  The  deepest  offence  at  the  reli- 
gious exclusiveness  of  the  people  of  Judsea,  which  then 
first  began  to  manifest  itself,  was,  as  is  easily  understood, 
taken  by  their  nearest  relatives,  Edom  and  Moab.  They 
gave  terrible  expression  to  their  feelings  when  the  Chal- 
daeans  urged  them  on  like  uncaged  beasts  of  prey  against 
the  rebellious  Jews  ;  and  they  joined  loudly  in  the  general 
chorus  of  malignant  joy  which  was  raised  over  the  burning 
of  the  temple  and  the  ruin  of  the  holy  city.' 

"  Because  Moab  saith :  Behold  the  house  of  Judah  is 
like  all  the  other  nations,  therefore  do  I  open  his  land  to 
the  Bne  Kedem,"  says  the.  prophet  Ezekiel  (xxv.  8  sqq.). 
His  threat  against  the  Moabites  as  well  as  against  the 
Edomites  and  Ammonites  is  that  they  shall  fall  before  the 
approach  of  the  desert  tribes.  Probably  in  his  day  the 
tide  of  Arabian  invasion  was  already  slowly  rising,  and 
of  course  it  had  first  to  overtake  the  lands  situated  on  the 
desert  border.  At  all  events  the  Arab  immigration  into 
this  qtiaxter  began  at  an  earlier  date  than  is  usually 
supposed ;  it  continued  for  centuries,  and  was  so  gradual 
that  the  previously  -  introduced  Aramseizing  process 
could  quietly  go  on  alongside  of  it.  The  Edomites  gave 
way  before  the  pressure  of  the  land-hungry  nomads,  and 
settled  in  the  desolate  country  of  Judah ;  the  children  of 
ix)t,  on  the  other  hand,  appear  to  have  amalgamated  with 
them, — ^the  Ammonites  maintaining  their  individuality 
longer  than  the  Moabites,  who  soon  entirely  disappeared. 

Israel  and  Moab  had  a  common  origin,  and  their  early 
history  was  similar.  The  people  of  Jehovah  on  the  one 
hand,  the  people  of  Chemosh  on  the  other,  had  the  same 
idea  of  the  Godhead  as  head  of  the  nation,  and  a  like 
patriotism  derived  from  religious  belief, — a  patriotism 
capable  of  extraordinary  eflforts,  and  which  has  had  no 
parallel  in  the  West  cither  in  ancient  or  in  modern  times. 
The  mechanism  of  the  theocracy  also  had  much  that  was 
common  to  both  nations ;  in  both  the  king  figui-es  as  the 
deity's  repi'esentative,  priests  and  prophets  as  the  organs 
through  whom  he  makes  his  commvmications.  But,  with 
all  this  similarity,  how  different  were  the  ultimate  fates 
of  the  two !  The  history  of  the  one  loses  itself  obscurely 
and  fruitlessly  in  the  sarid ;  that  of  the  other  issues  in 
eternity.  One  reason  for  the  difference  (which,  strangely 
enough,  seems  to  have  been  felt  not  by  the  Israelites  alone 
but  by  the  Moabites  also)  is  obvious.  Israel  received  no 
gentle  treatment  at  the  hands  of  the  world ;  it  had  to  carry 
on  a  continual  conflict  with  foreign  influences  and  hostile 


'  Zeph.  it  8  sq. ;  2  Kings  xxiv.  2,  and  Jer.  xii.  9  sgq. ;  Ezek.  xxv. 
8  aqq.  It  need  hardly  be  said  that  the  Mo-lbites  shared  the  fate  of  all 
the  Palestinian  peoples  when  supremacy  passed  from  the  Assyrians 
to  the  Chaldeans,  and  that,  notwithstanding  their  hatred  of  the  Jews, 
they  had  no  difficulty  in  seeking  allianccs'with  them,  when  occasion* 
arose  on  which  they  could  be  made  useful  (Jcr.  ixvii.  3). 


536 


M  O  A  L  L  A  K  A  T 


powers ;  and  this  perpetual  struggle  with  gods  and  men 
was  not  profit!es3,  although  the  e:£temal  catastrophe  was 
inevitable.  Moab  meantime  remained  settled  on  his  lees, 
and  was  not  emptied  from  vessel  to  vessel  (Jer.  xlviii.  11), 
and  corruption  and  decay  were  tha  result.  This  explana- 
tion, however,  does  not  carry  us  far,  for  other  peoples  with 
fortunes  as  rude  as  those  of  Israel  have  yet  tailed  to 
attain  historical  importance,  but  have  simply  disappeared. 
The  service  the  prophets  rendered  at  a  critical  time,  by 
raising  the  faith  of  Israel  from  the  teuijioral  to  the  eternal 
sphere,  has  already  been  spoken  of  in  the  article  Issakl. 

Sources.— Tho  Old  Testament  (RutU  and  Chronicles,  however, 
Ixing  of  no  historical  worth  in  this  coimc.tion),  and  the  inscription 
of  Mcsha,  on  tlio  stone  of  Dlbon,  discovered  in  1868,  and  now  in 
tlio  Louvre.  The  Berlin  MoaUtica  are  valueless, — Schlottmann 
himself,  the  unshaken  champion  of  their  genuineness,  conceding 
that  they  are  mere  scribbling,  and  do  not  even  form  words,  much 
lias  sentences.  The  literatnre  of  the  subject  is  to  be  found  in  the 
commentaries  on  the  Old  Testament  books,  and  in  those  on  tho 
inscription  of  Meslia.  (J.  WE.) 

MO'ALLAKAT.  Al-Mo'allaMt  is  the  title  of  a  group 
of  seven  longish  Arabic  poems,  which  have  come  down  to 
us  from  the  time  before  Islam.  The  name  signifies  "  the 
suspended"  (pi.),  the  traditional  explanation  being  that 
these  poems  were  hung  up  by  the  Arabs  on  or  in  the 
Ka'ba  at  Mecca.  The  oldest  passage  known  to  the  writer 
where  this  is  stated  occurs  in  the  'IM  of  the  Spanish  Arab, 
Ibn  "Abd-Rabbih  (a.d.  861-940),  BilUk;  ed.  vol.  iiL  p.  116 
sq.  We  read  there  :  "  The  Arabs  had  such  an  interest  in 
jKietry,  and  valued  it  so  highly,  that  they  took  seven  long 
pieces  selected  from  the  ancient  poetry,  wrote  them  in  gold 
on  rolls  (!)  of  Coptic  cloth,  and  hung  them  up  ('alia/cat) 
on  the  curtains  which  covered  the  Ka'ba.  Hence  we  speak 
of  '  the  golden  poem  of  Amraalkais,'  '  the  golden  poem  of 
Zohair.'  The  number  of  the  golden  poems  is  seven  ;  they 
are  also  called  ' the  suspended'  (al-Mo'allakdt)."  Similar 
statements  are  frequent  in  later  Arabic  works.  But  agaiust 
this  we  have  the  testimony  of  a  contemporaiy  of  Ibn  ".\bd- 
Rabbih,  the  grammarian  NahhAs  (oft.  a.d.'  949),  who  sajra 
in  his  commentary  on  the  Mo'alla^At :  "As  for  the  a8sertic>n 
thnt.  they  were  hung  up  in  [«ii]  the  Ka'ba,  it  is  not  known 
to  any  of  those  who  have  handed  down  ancient  poems."  ' 
This  cautious  scholar  is  unquestionably  right  in  rejecting 
a  story  so  utterly  unauthenticated.  The  customs  pf  the 
Arabs  before  Mohammed  are  pretty  accurately  known  to 
us ;  we  have  also  a  mass  of  information  about  the  affairs 
of  Mecca  at  the  time  when  the  Prophet  arose ;  but  no  trace 
of  ..this  or  anything  like  it  is  found  in  really  good  and 
ancient  authorities.  We  hear,  indeed,  of  a  Meccan  hanging 
up  a  spoil  of  battle  on  the  Ka'ba  (Ibn  HishAm,  ed.  Wiis- 
tenfeld,  p.  431).  Less  credible  is  the  story  of  an  important 
document  being  deposited  in  that  sanctuary,  for  this  looks 
like  an  instance  of  later  usages  being  transferred  to  pre- 
Liiamic  times.  But  at  all  events  this  is  quite  a  different 
thing  from  the  hanging  up  of  poetical  manuscripts.  To 
account  for  tho  disajipearance  of  the  Mo'allakAt  from  the 
Ka'ba  wo  are  told,  in  a  passage  of  late  origin  (De  Sacy, 
Chrestom.,  ii.  480),  that  tiey  were  taken  down  at  the  cap- 
ture of  Mecca  by  the  Prophet.  But  in  that  ca.se  we  should 
expect  some  hint  of  the  occurrence  in  the  circumstantial 
biographies  of  the  Prophet,  and  iu  tho  works  on  the  history 
o£  Mecca ;  and  we  find  no  such  thing.  That  long  poems 
were  written  at  all  at  that  remote  period  is  improbable  in' 
the  extreme.  All  that  wo  know  of  the  diffusion  of  Arabic 
poetry,  even  up  to  a  time  when  the  art  of  writing  had 
become  far  mora  general  than  it  was  before  the  spread  of 
Islam,  points  exclusively  to  oral  tradition.  Moreover,  it 
is  quite  inconceivable  that  there  shoilld  have  been  either  a 
guild  or  a  private  individual  of  such  acknowledged  taste. 


'  Br'st  Frunkel,  An-KatOuis'  Commailit/- si<r  Mu'allaiia  rf."s  Iw-iil- 
Quis  (HaLc  'S'B).  n.  viii." 


or  of  SUCH  influence,  as  to  bring  about  a  consensus  of 
opinion  in  favour  of  certain  poems.  Think  cf  the  mortal 
offence  which  the  canonization  of  one  poet  mast  hare  given 
to  his  rivals  and  their  tribes !  It  was  quite  another  thing 
for  an  individual  to  give  his  own  private  estimate  of  the 
respective  merits  of  two  poets  who  had  appealed  to  him  o.s 
umpire  ;  or  for  a  number  of  poets  to  appear  at  large  gather- 
ings, such  as  the  fair  of  'Okiz,  as  candidates  for  the  placid 
of  honour  in  the  estimation  of  the  throng  which  listened 
to  their  recitations.  In  short,  this  legend,  so  often  retailed 
by  later  Arabs,  and  still  more  frequently  by  Europeans, 
must  be  entirely  rejected.*  The  story  is  a  pure  fabrication 
based  on  the  name  "  suspended."  The  word  was  taken  in 
its  literal  sense ;  and  as  these  poems  were  undoubtedly 
prized  above  all  others  in  after  times,  the  same  opinion 
was  attributed  to  "  the  [ancient]  Arabs,"  who  were  sup- 
posed to  have  given  effect  to  tneir  verdict  in  the  way 
already  described.  A  somewhat  simpler  version,  also 
given  by  NaldiAs  in  the  passage  akeady  cited,  is  as  follows  : 
"  Most  of  flie-Arabs-werij  accustomed  to  meet  at  'OkAz  and 
recite  verses  ;  then  if  the  king  was  pleased  with  any  poem, 
he  said,  'Hang  it  up,  and  preserve  it  amongluj  liea-rares.' " 
But,  not  to  mention  ofher  difficulties,  there  was  no  king  of 
all  the  .(Vrabs ;  and  it  is  hardly  probable  that  any  Arabian 
king  attended  the  fair  at  'Okiz.  The  story  that  ohe  poems 
were  written  in  gold  has  evidently  originated  in  the  name 
"the  golden  poems"  (literally  "the  gilded"),  a  figurative  ex- 
pression for  excellence.  We  must  interpret  the  designation 
"  suspended  "  on  the  same  principle.  In  all  probability  it 
means  those  (poems)  which  have  been  raised,  on  account  of 
tJieir  value,  to  a  specially  honourable  position.  Another 
derivative  of  the  same  root  is  'ilk,  "  precious  thing." 

The  selection  of  these  seven  poems  can  scarcely  have 
been  the  work  of  the  ancient  Arabs  at  all.  It  is  much 
more  likely  that  we  owe  it  to  some  connoisseur  of  a  later 
date.  Now  Nalihis  says  expressly  in  the  same  passage  : 
"  The  true  view  of  the  matter  is  this :  when  HammAd 
arrAwiya  (Hammid  the  Rhapsodist)  saw  how  little  men 
cared  for  poetry,  he   collected  these  seven  pieces,  urged 

f.eople  to  -study  them,  and  said  to  them  :  '  These  are  the 
poems]  of  renown.' "  And  this  agrees  with  all  oiu'  other 
information.  HammAd  (who  lived  in  the  first  three  quar- 
ters of  the  8th  century  a.d.)  was  perhaps  of  all  men  the 
one  who  knew  most  AJabic  poetry  by  heart.  The  recita- 
tion of  poems  was  his  profession.  To  such  a  rhapsodist 
the  task  of  selection  is  in  every  way  appropriate  ;  and  it 
may  be  assumed  that  he  is  responsible  also  for  the  some- 
what fantastic  title  of  "the  suspended." 

The  collection  of  HammAd  appears  to  have  consisted  of 
the  same  seven  poems  which  are  found  in  our  modern 
editions,  composed  respectively  by  AmraaUfai.s,  Tarafa, 
Zohair,  Labid,  'Antara,  'Amr  ibn  Kolthilm,  and  HArith 
ibn  Hilliza.  These  are  enumerated  both  by  Ibn  "Abd- 
Rabbih,  and,  on  the  authority  of  the  older  philologists,  by 
NahhAs ;  and  all  subsequent  commentators  seem  to  follow 
them.  We  have,  however,  eWdence  of  the  existence,  at 
a  very  early  period,  of  a  slightly  different  arrangement. 
Two  of  the  foremost  authorities  in  Arabic  poetry  are  Abii 
'Obaida  and  Mofaddal, — men  who  for  care  and  accuracy 
in  preserving  the  genuine  text  were  far  ahead  of  their  much 
older  contemporary  HammAd.  Both  of  these  inserted  a 
poem  by  NAbigha  and  one  by  A'shA  in  place  of  those  of 
'Antara  and  HArith  ; '  and,  if  our  infonnant  has  expressed 


'  Doubts  had  alrcnily  been  exprcsatd  by  various  scholars,  -vybfu 
Heiigstenbcrg— riRid  conseivativo  as  lie  was  in  theology  —  openly 
cbnllengwi  it  ;  and  since  then  it  has  been  controverted  at  length  ia 
Noldeke's  Bsilrayt  air  Kenntniss  iler  Pon-Ie  dir  alien  Aruber  (Han- 
over, 1864),  p.  xvii.  sqq.  Our  highest  authority  on  Arabic  poelry, 
Professor  Ablwonlt,  concurs  in  (Ids  conclusion  ;  see  his  BeiitcrkuiirieH 
iliicr  did  .U-c!ilheil  fill-  itllni  •imbischen  OaliclUc  (1S72),  p.  25  .tj. 

*  The  possugo  is  cited  by  Noldeke,  SeitrUyt:,  p.  xx.  jq. 


M  O'A  L  L  A  K  A  T 


537 


liimself  coiTDctly,  they  also  called  this  modified  collection 
Mo'allalcdt.  Mofaddal  employs,  besides,  the  names  "the 
seven  long  [poems]  "  and  "  the  necklaces."  ITiis  last  be- 
came afterwards  a  common  title  for  the  seven  poems. 
The  comparison  of  songs  to  strings  of  pearls  is  a  very  apt 
one,  from  the  nature  of  the  Arabic  poem,  composed  as  it 
is  of  separate  loosely-comiected  parts.  Hence  it  became 
ao  popular  that  even  in  ordinary  prose  to  speak  in  rhyth- 
ini<al  form  is  called  simply  nazTn,  "to  string  pearls." 
Mofaddal  expressly  opposes  the  view  of  those  who  did  not 
acknowledge  the  pre-eminence  of  the  seven  poets  selected 
by  him.  This  appears  to  be  an  attack  on  Hammid  for 
including  in  his  collection  the  works  of  two  men  who  for 
poetic  fame  could  certainly  never  enter  the  lists  with 
Nibigha  and  A'shiL  It  is  prima  facie  rndre  likely  that  a 
later  writer  should  have  replaced  the  less-  famous  poets  by 
those  who  were  universally  placed  in  the  first  rank,  than 
vice  versa.  Perhaps  another  fact  is  of  some  importance 
here,  Hammid,  a  Persian  by  descent,  was  a  client  of  the 
Arab  tribe,  Bakr  ibn  WiiL  In  the  heathen  period  this 
tribe  was  much  at  war  with  the  closely -related  tribe 
Taghlib.  Now  of  all  Arabic  poems  none  was  more  famous 
thaa  that  in  which  'Atnr  ibn  Eolthiim  celebrates  in 
glowing  terms  the  praises  of  his  tribe  Taghlib.  If, 
therefore,  Hammid's  collection  embraced  this  poem,  it  was 
very  natural  for  bim  to  gratify  his  patrons  the  Bakrites 
by  placing  alongside  of  it  that  of  Hirith — a  Bakrite  and 
contemporary  of  "Amr — ^where  he  extols  his  own  tribe  and 
assails  the  Taghlibites  with  bitter  scorn.  Such  considera- 
tions did  not  affect  Abi!i  'Obaida  and  MofaddaL 

The  authority  of  these  men  has  so  for  prevailed  that 
the  poems  of  their  favourites  Kdbigha  and  A'shi  often 
appear  in  the  manuscripts,  not  indeed  instead  of  those  of 
'Antara  and  H&rith,  but  after  the  other  seven.  Thus  we 
sometimes  read  of  nine  Mo'allakit.  The  first  author  in 
whom  the  writer  has  observed  this  is  the  great  philosophic 
historian  Ibn  Khaldi^  (a.d.  1332-1406) ;  he  mentions 
instead  of  Hirith  the  far  more  celebrated  'Alkama; 
whether  relying  on  ancient  authority,  or  by  an  oversight, 
we  cannot  telL  In  an  excellent  collection  of  forty-nine 
long  poems  by  Abii  Zaid  al-Korashi  (date  unknown) 
Mofaddal's  seven  poets  appear  in  the  first  class,  "the 
necklaces; "  but  Ndbigha  and  A'shi  are  each  represented 
by  a  different  piece  from  that  usually  reckoned  among  the 
Mo'allakit.  By  this  editor  the  name  "golden  poems," 
which,  as  we  have  seen,  sometimes  occurs  as  a  synonym  of 
"  Mo'allakit,"  is  applied  to  seven  quite  distinct  songs.^ 
This  imcertainty  as  to  the  selection  and  the  titles  may 
serve  as  an  additional  proof  that  the  "  suspension,"  on  the 
Ealia  or  anywhere  else,  is  a  fable. 

The  lives  of  these  seven  (or  nine)  poets  were  spread 
over  a  period  of  more  than  a  himdred  years.  The  earliest 
of  them,  according  to  the  common  and  probably  correct 
opinion,  was  Amp.aalkais  (pronounced  also  Imroolkais, 
liuraalkais,  &c.),  regarded  by  many  as  the  most  illustrious 
of  Arabian  poets.  His  exact  date  cannot  be  determined ; 
but  probably  the  best  part  of  his  career  fell  within  the 
first  half  of  the  6th  century.  He  was  a  scion  of  the  royal 
house  of  the  tribe  Kinda,  which  lost  all  its  power  at  the 
death  of  King  HArith  ibn  'Amr  in  the  year  529.^  The 
poet's  royal  father,  Hojr,  by  some  accounts  a  son  of  this 
Hiirith,  was  killed  by  Bedouins.  The  son  led  an  adven- 
turous life  as  a  refugee,  now  with  one  tribe,  now  with 
another,  and  appears  to  have  died  young.  The  anecdotes 
related  of  him — which,  however,  are  very  untrustworthy 
in  detail — as  well  as  his  poems,  imply  that  the  glorious 


'  See  Noldel^e,  Bdtriige,  p.  xxi.,  asd  the  catalogue  of  the  Arabic 
codd.  in  the  British  Museum,  p.  480  sqq. 

"  See  Tnhari's  Geschichti  dtr  Ptrier  and  Araiivr  ^ y  t,Ji>eT»etst  von 
n.  mideke  (Lejden,  1879),  p.  171. 


memory  of  his  house  and  the  hatred  it  inspired  were  still 
comparatively  fresh,  and  therefore  recent. 

The  Mo'ailaka  of  'Amr  hurls  defiance  against  the  king 
of  Hlra,  'Amr  son  of  Mundhir,  who  reigned  from  the 
summer  of  554  till  568  or  569,  and  was  afterwards  slain 
by  our  poet.'  This  prince  is  also  addressed  by  HiEiTH  in 
bis  Mo'allaka.  Of  Tabafa,  who  is  said  to  have  attained 
no  great  age,  a  few  satirical  verses  have  been  preserved, 
directed  against  this  same  king.  This  agrees  with  the 
fact  that  a  grandson  of  the  Kais  ibn  EMlid,  mentioned  as 
a  rich  and  influential  man  in  T^rafa's  Mo'allaka  (v.  80  or 
81),  figured  at  the  time  of  the  battle  of  Dhii  Kir,  in  which 
the  tribe  Bakr  routed  a  Persian  army.  This  battle  falls 
between  a.d.  604  and  610  (Noldeke's  Tabari,  p.  311). 

The  Mo'allaka  of  'Antara  and  that  of  Zohaib  contain 
allusions  to  the  feuds  of  the  kindred  tiibes  'Abs  and 
Dhobyin.  Famous  as  these  contests  were,  their  time  cannot 
be  ascertained.  But  the  date  of  the  two  poets  can  be  appmxi- 
mately  determined  from  other  data.  Ka'b,  son  of  ZoLair, 
composed  first  a  satire,  and  then,  in  the  year  630,  a  eulogyi 
on  the  Prophet ;  another  son,  Bojair,  had  begun,  some- 
what sooner,  to  celebrate .  Mohammed.  'Antara  killed  the 
grandfather  of  the  Aljnaf  ibn  Kais  who  died  at  an  advanced 
age  in  A.D.  686  or  637 ;  he  outlived  'Abdallih  ibn  Simma, 
whose  brother  Doraid  was  a  very  old  man  when  he  fell  in 
battle  against  the  Prophet  (early  in  a.d.  630) ;  and  he  had 
communications  with  AVard,  whose  son,  the  poet  'Orwa,  may 
perhaps  have  survived  the  flight  of  Mohammed  to  Medina.' 
From  all  these  indications  we  may  place  the  productive 
period  of  both  poets  in  the  end  of  the  6th  century.*  The 
historical  background  of  'Antara's  Mo'allaka  seems  to  lie 
somewhat  earlier  than  that  of  Zohair's. 

To  the  same  period  appears  to  belong  the  poem  of 
'Alkama,  which,  as  we  have  seen,  Ibn  Khaldiin  reckons 
amongst  the  Mo'allalfit.  This  too  is  certainly  the  date 
of  NAbigha,  who  was  one  of  the  most  distinguished  of 
Arabic  poets.  For  in  the  poem  often  reckoned  as  a 
Mo'allaka,  as  in  many  others,  he  addresses  himself  to  the 
above-named  No'min,  king  of  Hira,  who  reigned  in  the 
two  last  decades  of  the  6th  century.  The  same  king  is 
mentioned  as  a  contemporary  in  one  of  'Alkama's  poems. 

The  poem  of  A'sai,  which  Mofaddal  placed  among  the 
Mo'aUakit,  contains  an  allusion  to  the  battle  of  Dhii  Kar 
(under  the  name  "Battle  of  Hinw,"  v.  62).  This  poet, 
not  less  famous  than  Nibigha,  lived  to  compose  a  poem 
in  honour  of  Mohammed,  and  died  not  long  before  a.d. 
630. 

LabId  is  the  only  one  of  these  poets  who  embraced  Islam. 
His  Mo'allal?a,  however,  like  almost  all  his  other  poetical 
works,  belongs  to  the  pagan  period.  He  is  said  to  have 
lived  till  661  or  even  later ;  certainly  it  is  true  of  fiini, 
what  is  asserted  with  less  likelihood  of  several  others  of 
these  poets,  that  he  lived  to  a  ripe  old  age. 

We  have  already  mentioned  that  the  old  Arabic  poetry 
was  transmitted  not  by  manuscripts  but  simply  through 
oral  tradition.  Many  pieces,  especially  the  shorter  ones, 
may  have  owed  their  preservation  to  their  hold  on  the 
popular  memory.  But,  fortunately,  there  was  a  class  of 
men  who  made  it  their  special  business  to  learn  by  rote, 
and  repeat,  the  works  either  of  a  single  poet  or  of  several. 
The  poets  themselves  used  the  services  of  such  rhapso- 
dists  {rdwU).  The  last  representative  of  this  class  is 
Hammid,  the  man  who  formed  the  collection  of  Mo'alla- 
kit ;  but  he,  at  the  same  time,  marks  the  transition  from 


»  See  Noldeke's  Talari,  pp.  170,  172. 

*  This  evidence  might  bo  supplemented  from  a  poem  in  Zohair's 
name,  whose  author  describes  himself  as  a  man  of  ninety  yeara,  and 
in  which  the  downfall  of  King  No'mdn  of  Hira  (a.d.  601,  eee  fahxrl, 
p.  347)  is  spoken  of  as  a  not  very  recent  event.  Bnt  the  geruiuenesj 
of  this  poem  is  moio  than  doubtful  (see  Alihvordt,  op.  ciU  pi  64i  and  C. 
J.  liyaU  in  the  Academy,  March  13,  18S0,  p.  192). 


:o~;-u* 


538 


M  0  A  L  L  A  K  A  T 


the  rhapsodist  to  the  critic  and  scholar.  Now,  when  we 
consider  that  more  thaii  a  century — in  some  cases  two 
centuries — elapsed  before  the  poems  were  fixed  by  literary 
men,  we  must  be  prepared  to  find  that  they  have  not 
retained  their  original  form  unaltered.  The  most  favour- 
able opinion  of  the  rhapsodista  would  require  us  to  make 
allowance  for  occasional  mistakes ;  expressions  would  be 
interchanged,  the  order  of  verses  disarranged,  passages 
omitted,  and  probably  portions  of  different  poems  pieced 
together.  The  loose  structure  of  the  ancient  poeras  ren- 
dered them  peculiarly  liable  to  corruptions  of  this  kind. 
But  the  fact  is  that  Hamm4d  in  particular  dealt  in  the_ 
most  arbitrary  fashion  with  the  enormous  quantity  of 
poetry  which  he  professed  to  know  thoroughly.  He  is 
even  charged  with  falsifications  of  all  sorts  in  this  depart- 
ment. Of  others,  again — and  notably  of  the  great  philolo- 
gist Ivhalaf,  "  the  Eed  " — it  is  credibly  reported  that  they 
used  their  intimate  knowledge  of  the  style  and  langiiage 
of  the  ancients  to^pass  off  whole  poems  of  their  own 
making  as  the  productions  of  earlier  authors.  The  worst 
anticipations  are  ordy  too  completely  confirmed  by  an 
examination  of  such  pieces  as  are  still  preserved,  as  is 
shown  mbst  conclusively  in  AhJ  wardt's  Bemerhungen,  already 
cited.  The  seven  Mo'allakAt  are  indeed  free  from  the  sus- 
picion of  forgery,  but  even  in  them  verses  are  frequently 
transposed  ;  ir.  all  there  are  lacunae ;  and  probably  all 
contain  verses  which  do  not  belong  to  them.  Some  of 
them  have  more  than  one  introduction.  This  is  the  case 
even  with  the  poem  of  'Amr,  although,  as  the  finest  pane- 
gj-ric  of  his  very  powerful  tribe,  it  must  have  had  a  wide 
circulation.  The  true  introduction  begins  at  v.  9  ;  before 
that  we  find  another  which  certainly  does  not  belong  to 
this  poem,  and  can  hardly  be  the  work  of  the  same  poet. 
"Amr  lived  in  the  desert' regions  near  the  lower  Euphrates, 
under  the  Persian  dominion ;  whereas  the  author  of  v.  8 
boasts  of  his  carousals  in  several  parts  of  Boman  Syria, 
and  in  v.  1  he  speaks  of  drinking  wine  from  a  place  in 
Northern  Syria.  It  is  evident  that  all  attempts  to  restore 
the  original  order,  to  fill  up  blanks,  or  to  remove  interpola- 
tions, can  only  be  carried  to  a  certain  degree  of  probability 
at  the  best ;  there  must  always  be  a  large  subjective  ele- 
ment in  judgments  on  points  of  the  kind.  Still  less  can 
we  hope  to  discover  and  rectify  the  minor  changes,  in  single 
t.\[>ressions  or  grammatical  forms,  which  the  text  may  have 
undergone  before  it  was  fixed  in  writing.  It  may  be  re- 
marked in  this  connexion  that  where  any  ancient  song  has 
been  transmitted  through  two  different  grammatical  schools 
it  generally  ai:^ear3  in  two  considerably  divergent  forms, 
each  having  been  taken  down  from  the  lips  of  a  separate 
rAwt  Of  secondary  importance  are  the  errors  due  to 
later  copyists.  Considerable  as  these  often  are,  we  are,  at 
least  in  many  cases,  better  able  to  correct  them. 

Even  the  masters  of  old  Arabian  poetry  do  not  exhibit 
Kuch  characteristic  differences  in  their  general  manner  and 
B'jyle  as  to  leave  in  the  mind  a  clear  idea  of  their  indivi- 
duality. A  few  distinct  poetic  types  emerge,  but  the  great 
'majority  of  these  poets  present  a  somewhat  monotonous 
aspect  to  the  Western  scholar,  who  indeed  can  at  best  have 
but  a  very  imperfect  feeling  for  nuances  of  style  in  this  field. 
But  if  we  are  thus  unable  to  isolate  the  various  constituent 
parts  of  this  ])oetical  literature,  and  pass  a  critical  opinion 
on  each,  we  do  get  from  this  literature,  as  a  whole,  what 
is  of  far  greater  importance  than  an  iesthetic  estimate  of 
this  or  that  particular  poet,  viz.  a  poetic  picture  of  the 
whole  life  and  activity  of  that  remarkable  people  which, 
amid  the  endless  agitation  and  endless  sameness  of  its 
existence,  and  in  an  extremely  inhospitable  region,  was 
'rej)aring  one  of  the  mightiest  revolutions  in  the  history 
pi  the  world.  This  collective  impression  is  hardly  impaired 
by  the  iuvoluiitarv  alterations  made  by  the  rdwis ;  nor  is 


it  greatly  distorted  by  the  forgers  of  the  2d  century  of 
Islam,  who  were  thoroughly  familiar  with  the  spirit  and 
style  of  antiquity,  and  seldom  did  violence  to  them. 

The  critics  of  the  2d  and  3d  centuries  a.h.  tinani- 
mously  ranked  the  poets  of  the  heathen  period  abova 
those  of  Islam  ;  and  in  that  verdict  we  must  concur.  The 
older  Moslem  poets  were  for  the  most  part  mere  Epigoni, 
content,  for  better  or  worse,  to  borrow  the  style  of  their 
pagan  predecessors.  It  is  only  natural,  therefore,  that  tha 
seven  best  poems  should  have  been  selected  from  the  pro 
ductions  of  heathenism.  But  how  these  particiilar  seven 
came  to  be  fixed  upon,  it  is  difficult  to  decide.  It  is 
remarkable  that  people  who  knew  thousands  of  such  poems 
should  have  agreed  as  to  the  superiority  of  five,  and  only| 
differed  about  two.  No  doubt  the  selection  was  greatly 
influenced  by  the  widely-established  reputation  of  certain 
poets,  like  AmraaUjais,  Zohair,  and  Tarafa ;  while  in  other 
cases  single  poems,  such  as  that  of  'Ami-,  stood  in  high 
repute  for  special  reasons.  Still,  even  we,  with  a  much 
narrower  range  of  selection,  should  hardl}'  pick  out  these 
seven  as  the  finest.  In  all  probability  our  choice  would 
not  light  on  a  single  one  of  them.  The  truth  is,  our 
esthetic  ideal  is  essentially  different  from  that  of  those 
old  litterateurs.  And,  while  we  may  certainly  consider  our 
own  taste,  formed  on  the  model  of  the  Greeks  and  the  best 
of  the  modems,  to  be  on  the  whole  purer  than  theirs,  we' 
must  not  forget  that  they  had  the  advantage  of  perfect 
knowledge  of  the  language  and  the  subject-matter,  and 
could  thus  perceive  a  multitude  of  beautiful  and  delicato 
touches,  which  we  either  miss  entirely  or  realize  with  labo- 
rious effort.  The  world  of  the  old  Arabian  poet  lay  at  an 
infinite  remove  from  ours.  His  mental  horizon  was  narrow ; 
but  within  that  horizon  every  minute  detail  was  seized 
and  designated  with  precision.  Among  the  nomads,  for 
example,  the  smallest  point  of  the  horse  or  camel  that 
the  eye  can  see  has  its  importance  ;  the  language  has  pre- 
cise and  generally  understood  words  for  them  all,  where 
ours  has  only  technical  terms.  It  is  the  same  with  all  the 
physical  properties  of  the  animal — its  paces,  etc.  Thu.s, 
when  a  poet  faithfully  described  the  exterior  and  the 
deportment  of  his  camel,  that  was  to  his  hearers — and  tha 
same  is  true  of  later  critics — a  genuine  pleasure,  because 
the  description  conveyed  to  them  a  definite  pictorial  im- 
pression. But  we  do  not  understand  the  details  of  the 
picture ;  or,  when  at  best  with  all  the  resources  of  tradition 
and  natural  history  we  have  gained  some  tolerable  compre- 
hension of  them,  the  whole  still  leaves  us  indifferent.  A 
camel  to  us  is  simply  not  a  poetical  object ;  and  even  a 
horse  ceases  to  be  SEsthetically  interesting— except  perhaps 
to  a  sportsman — when  one  is  asked  to  go  over  his  points 
in  detail.  For  this  reason  we  are  apt  to  find  a  great  part 
of  Tarafa's  Mo'allalja,  and  many  parts  of  the  poems  of 
Amraalljais,  viewed  as  poetry,  distasteful  rather  than 
interesting.  More  attractive  are  the  descriptions  of  tha 
life  and  habits  of  wild  animab  in  the  desert,  such  as  tha 
wild  ass  and  some  species  of  antelope,  which  the  poets  are 
fond  of  introducing  (see,  e.g.,  the  Mo'aUaVa  of  Labld). 
Theie  are  also  many  vivid  sketches  from  nature  to  be  mot 
with, — nature,  of  course,  as  seen  in  the  very  monotonous 
Arabian  landscape.  Monotony,  indeed,  is  a  predominant 
characteristic  of  this  poetry,  ^yhen  one  first  reads  poems 
where  the  bard  begins  by  shedding  tears  over  the  scarcely 
perceptible  traces  of  the  dwelling  of  his  beloved  in  years 
gone  by,  one's  sympathy  is  aroused.  But  when  poem  after 
poem  is  found  to  commence  with  the  same  scene,  and  pos- 
sibly with  almost  the  same  words,  the  emotion  is  somewhat 
damped.  No  doubt  such  occurrences  must  really  have 
been  very  common  in  the  nomad  life ;  nevertheless  the 
suspicion  becomes  at  last  irresistible  that  for  the  moet 
part  all  this  is  piure  fiction.     Nor  can  we  be  surn  thai  tl>« 


M  OB  — M  O  B 


539 


poets  are  always  to  be  taken  au  terieux  when  they  describe 
those  carousals,  and  other  adventures  in  peace  and  war,  of 
which  they  Ioto  to  boast.  They  are  probably  more  serious 
in  the  narratives  of  their  love  experiences :  these  are  often 
very  highly  coloured,  and  yet  are  always  pervaded  by  a 
certain  natural  refinement,  which  is  too  often  wanting  in  the 
later  erotic  poetry  of  the  Moslems.  But  there,  too,  our  enjoy- 
ment is  frequently  marred  by  minute  and  even  prosy  de- 
scriptions of  the  physical  charms  of  the  object  of  affection. 

The  lyrical  and  even  the  more  rhetorical  passages  of  the 
poems  make  in  general  a  deeper  impression  upon  us  than 
the  descriptive  portions,  to  which  they  owe  their  distinctive 
character,  and  which  are  often  intimately  blended  with  the 
former.  When  those  old  Arabs  are  really  moved  by  love, 
or  rage,  or  grief,  when  personal  or  tribal  vanity  vents  itself 
in  immoderate  boasting,  invective,  or  banter,  then  they 
strike  chorda  that  thnll  our  breasts.  In  those  passages 
where  genuine  human  feeling  is  stirred,  they  also  display 
far  greater  individuality  than  in  the  more  conventional 
descriptions.  Especially  affecting  are  the  numerous  pass- 
ages or  complete  poems  which  mourn  over  the  beloved 
and  venerated  dead.  Their  sober  practical  philosophy  too, 
as  it  is  presented  in  the  Mo'allaka  of  Zohair  and  in  many 
of  Labfd's  poems,  is  really  impressive. 

The  Mo'allak^t  are  highly  characteristic  specimens  of  this 
poetry.  They  exhibit  nearly  all  its  merits  as  well  as  most 
of  its  defects.  Amongst  its  merits  we  ought,  perhaps,  to 
include  the  unfailing  regularity  of  the  verse.  That  a  people 
living  under  such  extremely  simple  conditions  should  have 
cultivated  a  purely  quantitative  metre,  so  euphonious  and 
so  rigorously  adhered  to,  is  a  fact  worthy  of  our  highest 
admiration:  It  is  one  evidence  of  that  sense  of  measure 
and  fixed  form  which  is,  in  other  directions  also,  a  marked 
feature  in  the  life  and  speech  of  the  Arabs.  The  mere  fact 
that  in  their  verses  they  give  so  much  attention  to  elegance 
of  expression  deserves  commendation.  Amongst  the  defects 
of  this  poetry  we  must  emphasize  the  loose  connexion 
between  the  separate  parts.  We  require  a  poem,  like  any 
other  work  of  art,  to  be  a  compact  unity ;  the  Arabs  and 
many  other  Orientals  lay  all  the  stress  on  the  detaOs.  In 
the  Mo'allaka  of  Tarafa,  for  instance,  after  the  poet  has 
spoken  long  enough  about  his  beloved,  he  starts  off  in  this 
fashion  :  "  But  I  banish  care  when  it  comes  near  with  a  " — 
she-camel  of  such  and  such  qualities,  and  then  proceeds 
to  give  a  description  of  his  riding-cameL  Equally  abrupt 
transitions  occur  in  almost  all  these  poems,  gener^y  more 
than  once  in  the  same  poem.  In  many  cases  a  sort  of  unity 
is  preserved  by  making  the  different  sections  represent  so 
many  scenes  from  the  life  of  the  poet  or  from  the  common 
life  of  the  Bedouins;  but  even  then  there  is  something 
unsatisfactory  in  the  want  of  real  connexion.  It  does  not 
mend  matters  much  when  the  poet  keeps  up  a  merely 
mechanical  transition ;  as,  for  example,  when  he  speaks 
first  of  his  camel,  then  with  the  words  "it  is  as  swift  as  a 
wild  ass  which,"  <fcc.,  passes  to  a  description  of  that  unimnl^ 
and  again  proceeds,  "  or  as  swift  as  an  ostrich  which,"  (tc^ 
in  order  to  introduce  the  ostrich. 

This  loose  structiwe  of  the  poems  explains  the  fact  that 
from  a  very  early  period  particular  pieces  were  culled  from 
larger  works  and  recited  by  themselves.  For  the  town- 
Arabs  of  later  times  this  procedure  was  especially  convenient. 
For  them  the  wild  ass  or  oryx-antelope  had  little  attraction ; 
and  on  the  camel  they  bestowed  about  as  much  notice  as 
'  we  do  on  our  dray-horses  and  waggons.  But  the  love  and 
hate,  the  pride  and  scorn,  the  fierce  lust  of  revenge  and  the 
wailing  grief,  the  bravery  and  the  gaiety,  which  breathed 
through  the  old  Bedouin  songs,  had  an  inten.se  fascination 
for  them.  We  see  that  their  attitude  towards  that  poetry 
had  in  some  degree  approximated  to  our  own.  Hence  it  is 
that  some  ant.holoeies  from  the  old  poetry.-  made  by  men 


of  learning  and  ability,  with  an  eye  to  contemporary  tastes, 
are  on  the  whole  much  more  pleasing  to  us  than  the  com- 
plete poems  themselves.  This  is  eminently  true  of  the 
excellent  collection  edited  by  Abfi  Tammim,  himself  a  con- 
siderable poet  (first  half  of  the  9th  century),  under  the 
title  "  Hamisa  "  (Valour).  This  collection,  which,  however, 
embraces  many  pieces  of  the  Moslem  period,  is  certainly 
fitted  to  give  a  European  a  rather  too  favourable  idea  of 
ancient  Arabic  poetry.  Whoever  wishes  really  to  know 
that  poetry — and  without  this  knowledge  it  is  impossible 
to  understand  the  Arabs  themselves  or  their  language- 
must  betake  himself  to  those  which,  like  the  Mo'aUakAt  and 
others,  have  been  preserved  more  or  less  in  their  integrity. 
The  Mo'allakat  have  been  repeatedly  printed,  separately  and 
coUectivcly,  both  in  the  West  and  the  East,  generally  with  ao 
Arabic  commentary.  A  good  commentary  by  a  competent  European 
is  a  real  desideratum.  A  work  of  this  kind  would  do  more  for  ths 
understanding  of  the  poems  than  any  poetical  translation,  which 
must  always  fail  in  rendering  these  definite  concrete  expressions  of 
the  Arabs  for  which  we  possess  neither  the  idea  nor  the  image.  A 
translation  must  either  De  a  mere  paraphrase  or  else  substitute  some- 
thing utterly  vagiie.  (TH.  N.) 

MOBILE,  a  city  and  port  of  entry  of  the  United  States, 
the  capital  of  Mobile  county,  and,  though  not  the  capital, 
the  largest  city  of  Alabama,  lies  140  miles  east  of  New 
Orleans,  on  a  sandy  plain  on  the  west  bank  of  Mobile 
river,  one  of  the  arms  of  the  Alabama.  The  municipal 
boundary  includes  an  area  about  6  miles  long  by  2 
or  3  in  breadth ;  but,  excluding  the  suburban  villas 
scattered  about  the  nearer  hills,  the  portion  occupied  by 
the  buildings  of  the  city  proper  is  not  more  than  a  mile 
square.  In  the  matter  of  paving  and  shade  the  streets 
are  generally  good,  and  Government  Street  especially, 
with  its  fine  oak  trees  and  gardens,  forms  an  attractive 
promenade.  Besides  the  spacious  granite  building  erected 
in  1859  to  accommodate  the  Custom-House,  the  Post  Office, 
and  the"  United  States  courts,  the  principal  edifices  are  the 
Roman  Catholic  cathedral  of  the  Immaculate  Conception 
(1833),  Christ  Church  (Episcopal)  (1837),  the  City  Hos- 
pital (1830),  the  United  States  Marine  Hospital  (1836), 
the  Providence  Infirmary,  the  conjoint  market-house  and 
municipal  buildings.  Barton  Academy  (occupied  by  the 
high  schools),  and  the  Alabama  Medical  CoUege  (founded 
in  1859).  About  6  miles  out,  at  Spring  Hill,  is  the 
Jesuit  College  of  St  Joseph,  established  by  Bishop  Portier 
in  1832.  As  a  commercial  centre  Mobile  is  in  some  re- 
spects very  favourably  situated.  It  is  the  only  port  of 
Alabama ;  the  estuary  on  which  it  stands  is  the  outlet  for 
several  navigable  rivers ;  and  it  is  the  seaward  terminus 
of  the  MobUe  and  Ohio  railroad,  the  Mobile  and  Mont- 
gomery, and  the  Grand  Tnmk.  But,  on  the  other  hand, 
it  lies  25  miles  from  the  coast ;  the  lagoon-like  bay  cut 
off  from  the  Gulf  of  Mexico  by  the  narrow  isthmus  of 
Mobile  Point  is  extremely  shallow;  and  in  1879  no  vessel 
drawing  more  than  13  feet  could  load  and  unload  in 
the  harbour  with  safety.  Since  1827,  it  is  true,  various 
works  have  been  undertaken  to  improve  the  approaches  : 
the  Choctaw  Pass  and  the  Dog  River  Bar,  which  had 
formerly  a  depth  of  little  more  than  5  and  8  feet 
respectively,  were  deepened  to  17  feet  by  1882 ;  but 
Mobile  will  not  take  rank  as  a  satisfactory  ocean  port  tiQ 
the  scheme  (now  in  operation)  for  constructing  a  wido 
channel  more  than  20  feet  deep  right  through  the  bay  has 
been  fully  carried  out.  The  cost  6f  the  necessary  works 
being  beyond  the  power  both  of  the  city  and  State,  Con- 
gress has  granted  §270,000  for  the  purpose  of  widening 
the  channel  to  200  feet,  and  deepening  it  to  23  feet.  ^  A 
private  company,  established  in  1876,  has  built  a  break- 
water in  the  bay,  and  greatly  increased  the  safety  of  the 
harbour.  For  the  years  between  1855  and  1859  the 
average  value  of  exports   and  imports  was  respectivejy 


540 


M  O  E- 


.■523,419,266  and  6711,420 ;  the  following  figures  for  recent 
vears  show  a  considerable  decline  on  the  total ; — - 


Years  ending  in 

Exports. 

Imports. 

1877 
1878 
1879 
1880 
ISSl 
1882 

$12,784,171 
9,493,306 
6,219,818 
7,188,740 
6,S95,140 
3,258,605 

$648,404 
1,148,442 
644,628 
425,519 
671,252 
396,573 

In  cotton,  ■which  forms  the  staple  export,  the  falling  off  is  par- 
ticularly noticeable,  632,308  bales  being  the  average  for  1855  to 
1859,  and  365,945,  392,319,  and  205,040  bales  the  qu-intities  for 
1879,  1880,  and  1831.  A  great  deal  of  what  comes  to  the  Mobile 
market  is  sent  to  New  Orleans  for  shipment,  partly  that  it  may 
ohtain  a  higher  piico  as  "  Orleans "  cotton.  Lumber  shingles, 
turpentine  and  rosin,  fish  and  oysters,  and  coal,  are  also  important 
items,  but  do  not  mate  in  the  aggi'egato  so  much  as  half  the  value 
nf  the  cotton.  Among  the  local  industrial  establishments  are 
pcrcral  spinning-mills,  breweries,  cooperages,  shipbuilding  yards, 
Ibuudries,  and  sash  and  door  works.  The  market  gardeners  of  the 
outsldrts  produce  a  large  quantity  of  cabbages,  potatoes,  water- 
jiielons,  tomatoes,  &c.,  to  supply  the  cities  of  the  western  and 
northern  States  (value  in  1879,  §112,620;  1880,  $174,483;  ISSl, 
S159.706;  1382,  $367,194;  1883,  estimated  $700,000).  Though 
iu  1820  it  had  no  more  tlian  2672  inhabitants.  Mobile  had  31,255 
in  1880  ;  the  figmes  for  the  intermediate  decades  being  3194  (1630), 
12,672  (1840),  20,515  (1850),  29,258  (1860),  and  32,034  (1370). 

Founded  as  a  foi-t  by  Lemoyne  d'Ibervillo  (de  Bienville)  in  1702, 
^Mobile  continued  to  be  the  capital  of  the  colony  of  Louisiana  till 
1723,  when  this  rank  was  ti'ansfeiTed  to  New  Orleans.  The  site 
selected-  by  Lemoyne  was  probably  about  20  miles  above  the  pre- 
sent position,  which  was  iii-st  occupied  after  the  'floods  of  1711. 
By  the  Treaty  of  Paris,  1763,  Mobile  and  part  of  Louisiana  were 
ceded  to  Britain  ;  but  in  1780  the  fort  (uow  Fort  Charlotte)  was 
captured  by  the  Spanish  general  Galvez,  and  in  1783  it  was  recog- 
nized as  Spanish  along  Avith  other  British  possessions  on  the  Gulf 
of  Mexico.  General  Wilkinson,  ex-governor  of  Louisiana,  recovered 
the  tou-n  for  Louisiana  in  1813,  and  in  1819,  though  its  population 
did  not  exceed  2500,  it  was  incoriwrated  as  a  city,  m  1864-65 
Mobile  and  the  ueighboui-hood  was  the  scene  of  important  military 
and  naval  engagements.  The  Confederates  had  suiTounded  the  city 
by  three  lines  of  defensive  works,  but  the  defeat  of  their  fleet  by 
.•\drairal  Farragut,  and  the  capture  of  Fort  ilorgan,  Spanish  Fort, 
iind  Fort  Blakelly,  led  to  its  immediate  evacuation.  As  a  municipal 
corporation,  ilobile  had  got  into  such  financial  difficulties  by  1879 
Ihat  its  cil^  charter  was  rejKjaled,  and  a  board  of  commissioners 
.  stahlished  for  the  liquidation  of  its  debt  of  $2,497,856. 

MOBIUS,  August  Ferdinand  (1790-1868),  astronomer 
and  mathematician,  was  born  at  Schulpforta,  November 
17,  1790.  At  Leipsic,  Gottingen,  and  Halle  he  studied 
for  four  years,  ultimately  devoting  him.self  to  mathematics 
and  astronomy.  In  1815  he  settled  at  Leipsic  as  privat- 
docent,  and  the  next  year  became  e.-ctraordinary  professor 
of  astronomy  in  connexion  with  the  university.  Later 
ho  was  chosen  director  of  the  university  observatory, 
which  wa3  erected  (1818-21)  under  his  superintendence. 
In  1844  he  was  elected  ordinary  professor  of  higher 
mechanics  and  astronomy,  a  position  wliich  he  held  till 
his  death,  September  26,  1868.  His  doctor's  dissertation, 
De  compuiandis  occuHationibus  fixafum  ;;£7'  planetas 
(Leipsic,  1815),  established  his  reputation  as  a  theoretical 
astronomer.  Die  Hauptsiitze  der  Astronoinie  (1S36),  Die. 
Elemente  der  ilechanik  des  llimmds  (1843),  may  be  noted 
amongst  his  other  purely  astronomical  publications.  Of 
more  general  interest,  however,  are  his  labours  in  pure 
mathematics,  which  appear  for  the  most  part  in  Crelle's 
Journal  from  1828  to  1858.  These  papers  are  chiefly 
geometrical,  many  of  them,  being  developments  and  appli- 
cations of  the  methods  laid  down  in  his  great  work,  Dcr 
£arycentnsche  Calcul  (Leipsic,  1827),  which,  as  the  name 
implies,  is  based  upon  the  properties  of  the  mean  point  or 
centre  of  mass.  Any  point  in  a  plane  (or  in  space)  can  be 
represented  as  the  mean  point  of  threo  (or  four)  fixed 
points  by  giving  to  these  proper  weights  or  coefficients, — 
an  obvious  principle  which  leads  in  the  hands  of  Miibius 
to  what  no  doubt  is  the  chief  novel  feature  of  the  work,  a 


■■:.i  o  G 

system  of  homogeneous  coordinates.  Besides  this,  how- 
ever, the  work  abounds  in  suggestions  and  foreshado'n'ings 
of  some  of  the  most  striking  discoveries  in  more  recent 
times — such,  for  example,  as  are  contained  in  Grassmann's 
Ausdehnungslehre  and  Hamilton's  Quaternions.  He  must 
be  regarded  as  one  of  the  leaders  in  the  introduction  of 
the  powerful  methods  of  modem  geometry  that  have  been 
developed  so  extensively  of  late  by  Von  Standt.  Cremona, ' 
and  others. 

MOCHA,  a  town  of  Yemen  on  the  coast  of  the  Red  Sea, 
in  E.  long.  43°  20',  N.  kt.  13°  19'.  The  point  of  the  coast 
where  MochA  lies  appears  to  have  owed  early  import- 
ance to  its  good  anchorage,  for  the  Muza  of  the  Petiplvs 
{Geoj.  Gr.  Min.,  i.  273  sqq.),  a  great  seat  of  the  Red  Sea 
trade  in  antiquity,  seems  to  be  identical  with  the  modem' 
Miiza"  (Yiki'it,  iv.  680;  Niebuhr,  Desc.  de  VArahie,  p.  195), 
a  few  miles  inland  from  Moch.i.  Mochi  itself  is  a  modem 
to%vn,  which  rose  with  the  coffee  trade  into  short-lived  pros- 
perity. The  French  expedition  of  1709  found  it  a  place  of 
some  10,000  inhabitants,  and  its  importance  had  increa.sed 
half  a  century  later,  when  Niebuhr  visited  it.  The  chief 
trade  was  then  with  British  India.  Lord  Valencia  in  1 806 
still  found  the  town  to  present  an  imposing  aspect,  with  its 
two  castles,  minarets,  and  lofty  buildings ;  but  the  popula- 
tion had  sunk  to  5000.  '  The  internal  disorders  of  Arabia 
and  the  effoi-ts  of  Mohammed  Ali  to  make  the  coffee  trade 
again  pas.s  through  India  accelerated  its  fall,  and  the  place 
is  now  a  mere  village.  Mochi  never  produced  cofTee,  and 
lies  indeed  in  a  quite  sterile  plain ;  the  European  name  of 
Jlochi  coffee  is  derived  from  the  shipment  of  coffee  there. 
The  patron  saint.  Sheikh  Shadali,  was,  according  to  legend, 
the  founder  of  the  city  and  father  of  the  coffee  trade. 

MOCKING-BIRD,  or  Mock-Bikd  (as  Charleton,  Ray, 
and  Catesby  wrote  its  name),  the  Mimus  polyglottvs  of 
modern  ornithologists,  and  the  well-known  representative 
of  an  American  group  of  birds  usually  placed  among  the 
Thrushes  (?.».),  Turdids,  though  often  regarded  as 
forming  a  distinct  section  of  that  Family,  differing  by 
having  the  tarsus  scutellate  in  front,  while  the  tj'pical 
Thrushes  have  it  covered  by  a  single  horny  plate.  The 
Mocking-bird  inhabits  the  gi'eater  part  of  the  United 
States,  being  In  the  north  only  a  summer-visitant ;  but, 
though  breeding  yearly  in  New  England,  is  not  common 
there,  and  migrates  to  the  south  iii  A\-intcr,  passing  that 
season  in  the  Gulf  States  and  Mexico.  It  appears  to  be  less 
nimierous  on  the  western  side  of  the  Alleghanies,  though 
found  in  suitable  localities  across  the  continent  to  the 
Pacific  coast,  but  not  farther  northward  than  Wisconsin, 
and  it  is  said  to  be  common  in  Kan.sas.  Audubon  states 
that  the  Mocking-birds  wliich  are  resident  all  the  year  round 
in  Louisiana  attack  their  travelled  brethren  on  the  return 
of  the  latter  from  the  north  in  autumn.  The  nafncs  of 
the  species,  both  English  and  scientific,  have  been  bestowed 
from  its  capacity  of  successfully  imitating  the  cry  of  many 
other  birds,  to  say  nothing  of  other  sounds,  in  addition  to 
uttering  notes  of  its  OAvn  whi.h  possess  a  varied  range  and 
liquid  fulness  of  tone  that  are  unequalled,  according,  to  its 
adinircrs,  even  by  those  of  the  NicnTiNG.^LE  (y.t'.).  This 
opinion  may  perhaps  be  correct ;  but,  from  the  nature 
of  the  case,  a  satisfactory  judgment  can  scarcely  be  pro 
nounced,  since  a  comparison  of  the  voice  of  the  U\- 
songsters  can  only  be  made  from  memory,  and  that  is  (li 
course  affected  by  associations  of  ideas  which  would  i)rc- 
clude  a  fair  estimate.  To  hear  either  bird  at  its  best  it 
must  bo  at  liberty ;  and  the  bringing  together  of  cajitive 
examples,  unless  it  could  be  done  with  so  many  of  each 
species  as  to  ensure  an  honest  trial,  would  be  of  little  avail. 
Plain  in  plumage,  being  greyish-brown  above  and  dull 
white  below,  while  its  quills  arc  dingy  Id.ick,  vaiicgated 
with  white,  there  is  little  about  the  Mocking-birds  appear-, 


MD^D  — M  O  D 


541 


anco  beyond  its  graceful  form  to  recommend  it ;  but  the 
lively  gesticulations  it  exhibits  are  very  attractive,  and 
therein  its  European  rival  in  melody  is  far  surpassed,  for 
the  cock-bird  mounts  aloft  in  rapid  circling  flight,  and, 
alighting  on  a  conspicuous  perch,  pours  forth  his  ever- 
changing  song  to  the  delight  of  all  listeners ;  while  his 
actions  in  attendance  on  his  mate  are  playfully  demonstra^ 
tive  and  equaUy  interest  the  observer.  The  Mocking-bird 
is  moreover  of  familiar  habits,  haunting  the  neighbourhood 
of  houses,  and  is  therefore  a  general  favourite.  The  nest 
is  placed  with  little  regard  to  concealment,  and  is  not  dis- 
tinguished by  much  care  in  its  construction.  The  eggs, 
from  three  to  six  in  number,  are  of  a  pale  bluish-green, 
blotched  and  spotted  with  light  yellowish-brown.  They, 
as  well  as  the  young,  are  much  sought  after  by  snakes,  but 
the  parents  are  often  successfvd  in  repelling  these  deadly 
enemies,  and  are  always  ready  to  wage  war  against  any 
intruder  on  their  precincts,  be  it  man,  cat,  or  hawk.  Their 
food  is  various,  consisting  of  berries,  seeds,  and  insects. 

Some  twelve  or  fourteen  other  species  of  ilimus  have  been  recog- 
nized, mostly  from  South  America  ;  but  M.  orpheua  seems  to  be 
common  to  some  of  the  Greater  Antilles,  and  if.  hilli  is  peculiar  to 
Jamaica,  while  the  Bahamas  have  a  local  race  in  M.  haJuniunsis. 
The  so-called  Mountain  Mocking-bird  (Orcoscoptcs  vwntanus)  is  a 
form  not  very  distant  from  Mimiis;  bat,  according  to  Mr.  Eidgway, 
it  inhabits  exclusively  the  plains  overgrown  with  ArUmisia  of  the 
interior  tableland  of  North  America,  and  is  not  at  all  imitative  in 
its  notes,  so  that  it  is  an  instance  of  a  misnomer.  Of  the  various 
other  genera  allied  to  Mimiis,  those  known  in  the  United  States  as 
Threshers,  and  belonging  to  the  genus  Harporhynchua — of  which 
sir  or  eight  species  are  found  in  North  America,  and  are  very 
Thrush-Uke  in  their  habits — must  be  mentioned  ;  but  there  is  only 
room  here  to  dwell  on  the  Cat-bird  {Oaleoscoptea  caroUnensis)^  which 
is  nearly  as  accomplished  an  imitator  of  sounds  as  its  more  ccle- 
htated  relative,  with  at  the  same  time  peculiar  notes  of  its  orni, 
from  one  of  which  it  has  gained  its  popular  name.  The  sooty -gi'ey 
colour  tha»,  deepening  mto  blackisn-brown  on  the  crown  and 
quills,  pervades  the  whole  of  its  plumage — the  lower  tail-coverts, 
which  are  of  a  deep  chestnut,  excepted — renders  it  a  conspicuous 
object ;  and  though,  for  some  reason  or  other,  far  from  being  a 
favourite,  it  is  always  willing  when  undisturbed  to  become  Ultimate 
with  men's  abodes.  It  has  a  much  wider  range  on  the  American 
coutuient  than  the  Mocking-bird,  and  is  one  of  the  few  sjiccies  that 
are  resident  in  Bermuda,  while  on  more  than  one  occasion  it  is 
s-tid  to  have  aitpeared  iu  Eui'ope. 

■  The  name  liocking-bud,  or  more  frequently  Mock-Nightingale, 
is  iu  Eugland  occasionally  given  to  some  of  the  Wattle ns  (q.v.), 
especially  the  Blackcap  (Sylvia  airicapiUa),  and  the  Sedge-binl 
{Acrocijihalxts  schanobxnuft).  In  India  and  Australia  the  same 
uame  is  sometimes  applied  to  other  species.  (A.  N. ) 

1I0DEN.\,  one  of  the  principal  cities  of  Northern  Italy, 
formerly  the  capital  of  a  duchy,  and  still  the  chief  town 
of  a  province  and  the  seat  of  an  archbishop,  is  situated  in 
the  open  country  in  the  south  side  of  the  valley  of  the  Po, 
lietween  the  Secchia  to  the  west  and  the  Panaro  to  the  east. 
By  rail  it  is  31  miles  E.S.E.  of  Parma,  24  W.N.W.  of 
I'.ologna,  and  37  S.  of  Mantua.  The  observatory  stands 
135  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea,  in  44°  38'  52"  N.  lat. 
and  10°  55'  42'  E.  long.  Dismantled  since  1816,  and  now 
hirgely  converted  into  promenades,  the  fortifications  still 
;,'ive  the  city  an  irregular  pentagonal  contour,  modified  at 
the  north-west  corner  by  the  addition  of  a  citadel  also  penta- 
gonal Within  this  circuit  there  are  various  open  areas — 
the  spacious  Piazza  d'Armi  in  front  of  the  citadel,  the 
public  gardens  in  the  north-east  of  the  city,  the  Piazza 
Grande  in  front  of  the  cathedral,  arid  the  Piazza  Reale  to 
the  south  of  the  jjalace.  The  .Smilian  Way  crosses  obliquely 
right  through  the  heart  of  the  city,  from  the  Bologna  Gate  in 
the  east  to  that  of  Sant'  Agostino  in  the  west.  Commenced 
'by  the  countess  Matilda  in  1099,  after  the  designs  of 
Lanfranc,  and  consecrated  in  1184,  the  cathedral  (St 
Geminian's)  is  a  low  but  handsome  building,  with  a  lofty 
crypt,  three  eastern  apses,  and  a  fajade  still  preserving  some 
rtlrioua  sculptures  of  the  12th  and  15th  centuries.  The 
bell-tower,  named  La  Ghirlandina  from  the  bronze  garland 
surrounding  the  weathercock,  is  lined  with  white  marble. 


and  is  315  feet  high;  in  the  basement  may  be  seen  the 
wooden  bucket  captured  by  the  Modenese  from  the  Bo- 
lognese  in  the  afeay  at  Zappolino  (1325),  and  rendered 
famous  by  Tassoni's  Secchia  Sapita.  Of  the  other  churches 
in  Modena,  San  Pietro  has  terra^cottas  by  the  local  artist 
BegareUi,  and  S.  Agostino  (now  S.  Michele)  contains  the 
tomb  of  Sigonius  and  the  tombstone  of  Mmatori.  The  old 
ducal  palace,  begun  by  Duke  Francis  I.  in  1635  from  the 
designs  of  Avanzini,  and  finished  by  Francis  Ferdinand  V., 
is  an  extensive  marble  building,  and  now  contains  the 
library  {Bib.  Pcdatina,  see  vol  xiv.  p.  530),  picture-gallery, 
and  museum.  Many  of  the  best  pictures  in  the  ducal 
collection  were  sold  in  the  18th  century,  and  found  their 
way  to  Dresden.  The  valuable  Mmeo  Lapidario  in  a 
buUding  near  Porta  Sant'  Agostino  is  well  known  to  the 


1.  Moseo  Lapldarla         I 

2.  8.  Agostino.  1 

3.  Aoademy  of  Fin*  Arts.  | 


Plan  of  Modeuo. 
ft  Doineuieo.  I  7.  CftthedraL 

Royal  PaUee.  8.  Campanile  GhirlADdiBa. 

.  AichbiBhop's  Palace.  |  0.  Uuivenity. 
la  8.  Hetro. 


classical  antiquary  through  Cavedoni's  Dichiaraiione  dtgli 
antichi  marmi  Moderuti  (1828),  and  the  supplements  in  the 
Memairt  of  the  Academy,  vol  it,  &c  The  university  of 
Modena,  originally  founded  in  1683  by  Fiancis  11.,  is 
mainly  a  medical  and  legal  school,  but  has  also  a  faculty 
of  physical  and  mathematical  science.  It  has  about 
twenty-five  professors,  and  from  200  to  250  students ;  a 
library  of  20,000  volumes,  an  observatory,  botanical  gar- 
dens, an  ethnographical  museum,  ic.  The  old  academy 
of  the  Dissonanti,  dating  from  1684,  was  restored  by 
Francis  in  1814,  and  now  forms  the  flourishing  Eoyal 
Academy  of  Science  and  Art  {Memoin  since  1833) ;  and 
there  are  besides  in  the  city  an  Italian  Society  of  Science 
founded  by  Anton  Mario  Lorgna,  an  academy  of  fine 
arts,  a  military  college  (1859),  an  important  agricultural 
college,  and  a  lyceum  and  gymnasium,  both  named  after 
Miu^tori.  In  industrial  enterprise  the  Modenese  show  but 
little  activity,  silk  and  linen  goods  and  iron-wares  being 
almost  the  only  products  of  any  note.  Commerce  i.-< 
stimulated  by  a  good  position  in  the  railway  system,  and 
by  a  canal  which  opens  a  water-way  by  the  Panaro  and 
the  Po  to  the  Adriatic.  The  population  of  the  city  was 
32,248  in  1861,  and  30,854  in  1871  ;  that  of  the  com- 
mune 55,512  in  1861,  and  58,058  in  1881. 

The  Duchy  of  Modena,  an  independent  sovereign  stata 


542 


M  O  D  — M  0  F 


(1452  to  1859),  ultimately  extended  from  the  Po  tc  the 
Mediterranean,  and  was  bounded  N.  by  Locibardy  and  the 
Papal  States,  E.  by  the  Papal  States  and  Tuscany,  S.  by 
Tuscany,  Sardinia,  and  the  Mediterranean,  and  W.  by 
Sardinia  and  the  duchy  of  Parma,  Its  greatest  length, 
from  Porto -Vecchio,  on  its  northern  frontier  towards  Man- 
tua, to  the  outlet  of  the  Pannigncla  torrent,  on  the  Sardinian 
frTjntier,  was  Sii  miles ;  and  its  greatest  width,  from  the 
pass  of  Calama,  on  the  Papal  and  Tuscan  frontier,  to  the 
right  bank  o£  the  Enza,  on  the  frontier  of  Parma,  was  37 
miles.  The  area  fas  2371  square  miles,  of  which  three- 
fifths  were  mountainous.  In  ISoo  the  population  was 
606^159.  The  duchy  had  six  provinces — Modena,  Reggio, 
GuastaUa,  Frignano,  Garfagnana,  Massa-Carrara. 

Kodena  is  the  ancient  Mutina,  which  was  annexetl  by  the  Romans 
tloag  with  the  rest  of  the  territory  of  the  Boii.  In  1  S3  b.  c.  Mntina 
became  the  seat  of  a  Roman  colony.  During  the  civil  wa:-s  Marcus 
Brutns  held  oat  within  its  walls  against  Pompei'ds  in  78  B.C.,  and 
in  H  B.O.  the  place  was  defended  by  D.  Bmtns  against  M.  Antony. 
The  4th  centiuy  fonnd  Matina  in  a  state  of  dec^y  ;  the  ravages  of 
Attila  and  the  tronbles  of  the  Lombard  period  left  it  a  min£d  city 
in  a  wasted  land.  In  the  8th  century  its  exiles  founded,  at  a  dis- 
tance of  4  miles  to  the  north-west,  a  new  city,  Citti  Geminiana  (still 
represented  by  the  village  of  Cittanova) ;  bat  about  the  close  of 
the  9th  century  Modena  was  restored  and  refort^ed  by  its  bishop, 
Laedoinus.  When  it  began  to  build  its  cathedral  (1099  A.D.)  the 
dty  was  part  of  the  possessions  of  the  countess  Matilda  of  Tuscany : 
bat  when,  in  1184,  the  edifice  was  consecrated  by  Lucius  III.,  it 
was  a  fiee  community.  In  the  wars  between  Frederick  IL  and 
Gregory  IX  it  sided  with  the  emperor,  though  ultimately  the  papal 
party  was  strong  enough  to  introduce  confusion  into  its  poUcy.  .  In 
1288  Obizzo  d'Este  was  recognized  as  lord  of  the  city ;  after  tbe 
death  of  his  successor,  Azzo  VIII.  (1308),  it  resumed  its  communal 
independence  ;  but  by  1336  the  Este  femily  was  again  in  power. 
Constituted  a  duchy  in  1452  in  favour  of  Borso  d'Este,  and  emargcd 
and  strengthened  by  Hei-cules  II.,  it  became  the  ducal  residence  on 
the  incorporation  of  Ferrara  with  the  States  of  the  Church  (1593). 
Francis  L  (1629-1658)  erected  the  citadel  and  commenced  the  palace, 
which  was  largely  embellished  by  Francis  II.  Rinaldo  (ob.  1737) 
was  twice  driven  from  his  city  by  French  invasion.  To  Francis  III. 
{1698-1780}  the  city  was  indebted  for  many  of  its  pubUc  buildings. 
Hercules  III.  (1727-1803)  saw  his  states  transformed  by  the  French 
into  the  Cispadine  RepubUc,  and,  having  refused  the  principaUty 
of  Breisgau  and  Ortenau,  offered  him  in  oompensation  by  the  treaty 
of  Campo  Formio,  died  an  exile  at  Treviso.  H  is  only  daughter,  Maria 
Beatrice,  married  Ferdinand  of  Austria  (son  of  Maria  Theresa),  and 
in  1814  their  eldest  son,  Ferdinand,  received  back  the  Slati  Estoisi. 
TTiq  rule  was  subservient  to  Austria,  reactionary,  and  despotic.  On 
the  outbreak  of  the  French  Revolution  of  1830,Francis  IV.seemed  for 
a  time  disposed  to  encourage  the  corresponding  moveLient  in  Modena; 
but  no  sooner  had  the  Austrian  army  put  an  end  to  the  insurrection 
in  Central  Italy  than  he  returned  to  his  prerious  poHcy.  Francis 
Ferdinand  V.,  who  succeeded  in  1846,  followed  m  the  main  his 
bther's  example.  Obhged  to  leave  the  city  in  1S48.  h3  was  restored 
by  the  Austrians  in  1349  ;  ten  years  later,  on  20th  August  1853, 
the  representatives  of  the  Modenese,  under  the  direction  of  Carlo 
Farini,  declared  their  territory  part  of  the  kingdom  of  Italy,  and 
their  decision  was  confirmed  by  the  plebiscite  of  1S60. 

Natives  of  Modena  are  Fallopius  the  anatomist,  Tarquinia 
Uolza,  Sadoletius,  Sigonius,  Tassoni,  and  Cavedoni  the  archreologist ; 
the  names  of  Zatcana,  Tiraboschi,  and  Mnratori  are  associated  with 
its  library.  Tiraboschi's  Bibliothica  Jtfodtncnsis,  6  vols.,  contains 
an  account  of  all  the  literary  personages  of  the  duchy. 

Sco  Vedriani,  Storia  d(  Modcr.rnj  1666 ;  "nraboschi,  Mem.  tiorichi  mcden<£{, 
1793 ;  Scharfcnberg,  GtacK.  dts  Hercog^.,  Modena,  1S59 ;  Oreste  Bacgi,  Modena 
OatTiUa,  1860;  Busldi,  Storia  di  Modena;  ValdTighi,  Dii.  Slorieo,  is.,  delU 
eo-alrade  di  Modena,  187^80 ;  Crcsr<llaDi,  Ouida  di  Modena,  1S79 ;  Galvani,  Men. 
-A/T.  intomo  la  riii  di  Franvjco  IV.,  4  vols. 

MODICA,  a  city  of  Italy,  in  tne  province  of  Syracuse 
in  Sicily,  8  miles  from  the  south  coast,  on  the  line  of  rail- 
way decreed  in  1879  between  Syracuse  and  Licata.  It 
has  increased  its  communal  population  from  30,547  in  1861 
to  41,231  in  1881,  and  is  a  well-built  and  flourishing  place. 
Of  note  among  the  public  buildings  are  the  old  castle  on 
the  rock,  the  mcdixeval  convent  of  the  Franciscans,  and  the 
churches  of  S.  Maria  del  Carmine  (11. 50)  and  S.  Maria  di 
Betlem — this  last  containing  ruin<!  of  the  ancient  temjile 
destroyed  by  the  earthquake  of  1693.  Modica  is  the  point 
from  which  the  remarkable  prehistoric  tomb  and  dwelling- 
c^es  of  Val  d'Ispica  are  usually  visited.  An  early  de- 
pendency of  Syracuse,  Hotyca  or  ilutycu  v-.is  in  Cicero's 


days  a  fairly  important  municipium.  Ir.  modem  times  it 
was  held  as  a  couutship  by  the  dukes  of  Alba.  Placido 
Caraffa  has  written  a  prolix  histor)'  of  the  city,  which  may 
be  found  in  Grsevius,  Thes.  Ant.  et  Hist.  Ital.,  vol  xii 

MOE,  JoEGEX  ExGEBEETSEN  (1813-1882),  Norwegian 
poet  and  comparative  mythologiit,  was  born  at  Hole  in 
Sigdal,  Ringerike,  Norway,  on  22d  April  1813,  and  entered 
the  university  of  Christiania  as  a  theological  student  at  the 
age  of  seventeen.  After  leaving  the  university  La  1839  he 
acted  as  tutor  in  various  schools  and  families,  and  in  1845 
was  appointed  professor  of  theology  in  the  5Iilitary  School 
of  Norway,  which  post  he  held  until  1853,  when  he  became 
resident  chaplain  in  his  native  parish  of  Sigdal.  In  1863  he 
received  the  living  of  Bragemsss,  Drammen ;  in  1870  that 
of  Vest  Aker,  near  Christiania;  and  in  1875  the  bishopric 
of  Christiansand,  where  he  died  on  27th  March  1882. 

Moe's  first  pubhcarion  was  a  volume  of  2s^orse  "songs,  ballads, 
and  staves,"  which  appeared  in  1S4D  ;  it  was  followed  in  1841  by 
the  Si'orsls  FoJkc-evenlyr  (Norwegiin  Popular  Tales),  which  he  had 
collected  along  with  his  schoolfellow  Asbjomsen.  The  work  excited 
such  interest  as  a  contribution  to  the  study  of  comparative  mythology 
that  in  1847  he  was  sent  by  the  Government  through  Thelemark 
and  Sietersdal  to  increase  his  collection  of  stories.  The  second 
(enlarged)  edition,  with  a  preface  by  Moe.  appeared  in  1852.  In 
1851  his  I  BTom'.cn  07  »  Tjemet  (In  the  Well  and  in  the  Tarn),  a 
delightful  collection  of  prose  stories  for  children,  appeared,  and  it 
was  followed  in  1S59  by  a,  volume  of  poems  entitled  Er.,  lulcn  JuJcgave 
(A  Little  Christmas  Present).  In  1877  he  prepared  a  collected 
edition  of  his  works  in  two  volumes,  the  stories  he  had  published 
along  with  Asbjomsen  being  excluded.  Many  of  the  Folke^evcntyr 
(Popular  Talcs  from  the  It'</rsc)  were  translated  by  Sir  George 
Dasent  in  1S59. 

MCESLA  (in  Greek  Mysia,  or,  to  distinguish  it  from  the 
country  of  the  same  name  in  Asia,  Mysia  in  Europe),  in 
ancient  geography  the  territory  immediately  to  the  south  ot 
the  Danube  corresponding  in  the  main  to  Servia  and  Bul- 
garia. It  became  a  Roman  province  between  27  B.C.  and 
6  A.D.,  probably  about  16  B.c.^  In  the  time  of  Tiberius 
and  Caius  the  province  was  under  the  same  governor  with 
Macedonia  and  Achaia.  It  was  divided  by  Domitian  into 
two  provinces,  Mcesia  Superior  (Servia)  and  Moesia  Inferior 
(Bulgaria) ;  and  the  same  emperor  completed  the  great 
military  road  along  the  line  of  the  Danube,  increased  the 
strength  of  the  Roman  forces  in  the  country,  and,  by  the 
conquest  of  Dacia,  saved  it  from  the  inroads  by  which  it 
had  been  harassed  from  the  time  of  Tiberius.  The  Goths 
invaded  Jlossia  in  250  A.D.,  and  at  last,  in  395,  a  number 
of  them,  afterwards  known  as  Moesogoths,  obtained  per- 
mission to  settle  in  the  province.  The  Slavonians  and 
Bulgarians  appear  in  the  7th  century. 

The  boundary  between  Upper  and  Lower  Mcesia  was  not  marked, 
as  Ptolemy  (iii  9,  10)  states,  by  the  river  Cebrus  or  Ciabrus 
(Cibritzacr  Zibru),  but,  as  may  be  inferred  from  an  inscription  (6125, 
C.  iTiAzr.  Lat.j  vol.  iii.  2,  additamenla),  lay  between  Almus  (Lorn) 
and  Ratiaria  (Artcher).  Upper  Mcesia,  or,  as  it  was  often  called, 
Mcesia  Prima,  contained  —  Singidnnum  (Belgrade),  headquarters 
of  Lcgio  IV.  Flavia,  and  in  the  3d  century  a  colonia  ;  Viniinacium 
(Kostolatz),  headquarters  of  Leg.  VII.  Claud.,  and  designated  some- 
times municipium  .ffilium,  but  more  usually  colonia  (a  rank  bestowed 
on  it  by  Gordianus) ;  Bononia  (Widin) ;  Ratiaria,  which,  on  the  loss 
of  Dacia,  became  the  headquarters  of  Leg.  XIII.  gemina,  and 
remained  a  large  town  till  it  was  destroyed  by  Attila  ;  Remesiana 
(Mustapha  Pasha  Palanka),  which  has  furnished  inscriptions  belong- 
ing to  the  unidentified  Ulpiana  ;  and  Naissus  (Nissa  or  Nish),  tho 
birthplace  cf  Constantine  the  Great.  Lower  Mcesia  (Mcesia  Sccunda) 
contained— Ocscus  (Colonia  Ulpia,  mod.  Gigcn),  headquarters,  after 
loss  of  Dacia,  of  Leg.  V.  Maced.  ;  Nova  (Sistova),  at  a  late  date  a 
camp  of  Leg.  I.  ItaL,  and  afterwards  chief  seat  of  Thecdoric  king 
of  the  Goths  ;  Nicopolis  ad  Istrum  (Nikup),  really  on  the  latrus  or 
Yantra,  a  memorial  of  Trajan's  victory  over  the  Dacians  ;  Pristra 
(Rustchuk),  Asamus  (NicopoU  on  the  Osma),  Darostorum  (Silistria), 
Odcssns  (Varna),  Tomi  (Kustendje),  Troesmis  (Iglit^a). 

See  Boe-JCT,  flciMiifjcM  Slarfitn,  JSTl;  Pfllmcr,  Gesth.  der  B5n.  Kaiaer- 
leaitmtJi,  ISSi,  pp.  162161 ;  Halm,  in  DJacltr.  K.  Ak.  ier  Wiu.,  rh.  E.  CX, 
Viennm  1861.  p.  228. 

MOFFAT,  a  health  resort  of  some  note  in  Scotland,  is 
situated  in  Upper  Annandale,  Dumfriesshire,  occupying  Ml 


'  See  A.  W.  Zmnpt,  C'cmraci/af.  Spiyrajrh.,  ii.  253  «jj. 


M  O  F  — M  O  G 


543 


agreeable  position  at  the  base  of  the  Oatlow  Hill,  C3  miles 
from  Edinburgh,  and  42  miles  from  Carlisle  by  railway. 
The  Spa,  which  is  H  mijea  above  the  town  (525  feet 
above  sea-level),  is  sulphureous  with  some  saUne  ingre- 
dients, and  is  used  in  gout,  rheumatism,  and  dyspepsia. 
Population  (1881)  2161  ;  in  the  season  about  4000. 

MOFFAT,  RoiiEKT',  D.D.  (1795-1883),  African  mission- 
ary, was  born  at  Ormiston,  Haddingtonshire,  Scotland,  on 
21st  December  1795,  of  humble  parentage.  Moffat  learned 
the  craft  of  gardening,  but  in  1814  offered  liimscii  to  the 
London  Missionary  Society,  who,  in  1816,  sent  him  out  to 
South  Africa.  After  spending  a  year  in  Namaqua  Land, 
with  the  powerful  and  dreaded  chief  Africaner,  whom  he 
converted,  Moffat  returned  to  Cape  Town  in  1819,  and 
married  Miss  Mary  Smith,  a  remarkable  woman  and  most 
helpful  wife.  In  1820  Moffat  and  his  wife  left  the  Cape 
and  proceeded  to  Griqua  Town,  and  ultimately  settled  at 
Kuruman,  among  the  Bechuana  tribes  lying  to  the  west  of 
the  Vaal  river.  Here  he  worked  as  a  missionary  till  1870, 
when  he  reluctantly  returned  finally  to  his  native  land.  He 
made  frequent  journeys  into  the  neighbouring  regions,  as 
.'or  north  as  the  Matabele  country,  to  the  south  of  tho 
Zambesi.  Tho  results  of  these  journeys  he  communicated 
to  the  Eoyal  Geographical  Society  (Jour.  R.  G.  S.,  xxv. 
xxviii.,  and  Proc.  ii.),  and  when  in  England  in  1842  he 
published  his  well-known  Missionary  Labours  and  Scenes 
in  South  Africa.  Single-handed  he  translated  the  whole 
of  the  Bible  into  Bechuana.  While  solicitous  to  turn  the 
people  to  Christian  belief  and  practice,  Moffat  was  perhaps 
the  first  to  take  a  broad  view  of  the  missionary  function, 
and  to  realize  tho  importance  of  inducing  the  savage  to 
adopt  tho  arts  of  civilization.  He  himself  was  builder, 
carpenter,  smith,  gardener,  farmer,  all  in  one,  and  by  pre- 
cept and  example  he  succeeded  in  turning  a  horde  of 
bloodthirsty  savages  into  a  "people  appreciating  and 
cultivating  the  arts  and  habits  of  civilized  life,  with  a 
written  language  of  their  own."  Now  wo  find  more  or  less 
Christianized  communities  extending  from  Kuruman  to 
near  the  Zambesi.  Moffat  met  with  incredible  discourage- 
ment and  dangers  at  first,  which  he  overcame  by  his  strong 
faith,  determination,  and  genial  humour.  It  wa^  largely 
due  to  him  that  the  work  of  Livingstone,  his  son-in-law, 
took  the  direction  which  it  did.  On  his  return  to  England, 
Moffat  received  a  testimonial  of  about  £6000.  He  died 
at  Leigh,  near  Tunbridge  Wells,  9th  Aug.  1883. 

See  Scenes  aiid  Services  in  South  Africa,  the  Story  of  Moffat's 
?fis3ioivirif  Labours,  London,  1876  ;  and  publications  of  the  London 
Missionary  and  tho  B.  and  F.  Bible  Societies. 

MOGADOR,  or  Suerah  (Berber  TasuH),  the  most 
Eouthem  seaport  town  on  the  Atlantic  coast  of  Morocco, 
and  the  capital  of  the  province  of  Haha,  stands  from  10 
to  20  feet  above  high  water  on  a  projecting  ridge  of  cal- 
careous sandstone  in  31°  30'  N.  lat.  and  10°  44'  W.  long. 
In  certain  states  of  wind  and  sea  it  is  turned  almost  into 
an  island,  and  a  sea-wall  protects  the  road  to  Saffi.  The 
streets  are  regular  and,  for  a  Moorish  town,  broad  and  clean. 
Witliin  tho  walls  there  are  three  distinct  divisions :  the 
citadels  old  and  new  with  the  government  buildings;  to 
the  north-west  the  outer  town  with  its  spacious  markets 
in  the  centre ;  and  at  the  north-west  comer  the  Mellah, 
or  Jews'  quarter.  In  the  citadels  the  houses  are  fairly 
good,  and  considerable  attention  is  paid  to  sanitary  matters. 
^Vate^  is  brought  from  the  Kseb,  about  IJ  miles  to  tho 
south,  by  an  aqueduct.  The  prosperity  of  Mogador  is  due 
to  its  commerce ;  only  a  few  gardens  break  the  barren- 
ness of  the  immediate  vicinity.  The  harbour  or  roadstead, 
though  apparently  protected  by  the  island  and  quarantine 
Ktation  of  Mogador,  is  extremely  dangerous  during  west 
and  south-west  winds.  Trade  is  carried  on  mainly  with 
Marae'lles.  London,  Gibraltar,  and  the  Canaries  — the  prin- 


cipal exports  being  almonds,  goat-skins,  gums,  Olive  oil, 
and  ostrich  feathers,  and  the  principal  imports  cotton  goods 
(half  of  the  total)  and  tea.  The  average  v&lue  -oi  tha  ex- 
ports for  the  five  years  1877-1881  was  about  £210,000,  the 
imports  rather  less.  Attention  has  been  frequently  directed 
to  the  value  of  Mogador  as  a  health  resort,  especially  for 
consumptive  patients.  The  climate  is  remarkably  steady  : 
mean  temperature  of  the  hottest  month  71  06,  of  coldest 
month  58-69.  The  annual  rainfall  is  only  10  or  12  inches, 
and  the  rainy  days  of  winter  and  spring  about  28.  The 
sirocco  is  but  rarely  felt.  The  population  is  about  15,000 
(7000  Jews,  about  150  foreigners).  Jews,  Protestants, 
and  Roman  Catholics  have  religious  edifices  in  tho  town. 

A  place  called  Moj^ador  is  marked  in  tho  1  Siil  Povtiilan  of  the  Lau- 
rentian  Library,  and  tho  map  iu  Hondiiis's  Atlas  Minor  shows  the 
island  of  ]\logador  /.  Do7nc(jador  ;  but  the  oripn  of  tlio  present  town 
is  much  more  recent.  Mogador  was  founded  by  Sultan  Jlohamniod, 
and  completed  i]i  1770.  The  town  received  from  tho  Moors  the 
name  of  Suerah  (little  picture),  while  the  Portuguese  called  it  after 
the  shrine  of  Sidi  Mogadul,  which  lies  towai-ds  tho  south  half-way 
to  tho  village  of  Diabat,  and  forms  a  striking  landmark  for  seamen. 
In  1844  tho  citailtl  was  bombarded  by  the  French. 

MOGHILEFF,  a  north-western  government  or  pro-s-ince 
of  the  Russian  empire,  situated  on  the  upper  Dnieiier, 
between  the  provinces  of  Vitebsk  and  Smolensk  on  the 
north  and  ea.4,  Tchernigoft'  and  ]*[insk  on  the  south  and 
west.  In  the  north  it  is  occupied  by  the  watershed  which 
separates  the  basir*  of  tho  Dwina  and  tho  Dnieper,  an 
undulating  tract  from  650  to  900  feet  above  the  sea-level, 
and  covered  nearly  everywhere  with  forests.  This  water- 
shed slopes  gently  to  the  south,  that  is,  to  the  valley  of 
the  Dnieper,  which  enters  the  province  from  the  north- 
east and  flows  west  and  afterwards  due  south.  The 
southern  part  of  tho  province  is  flat  and  has  tnuch  in  com- 
mon with  the  Polyesie  of  the  province  of  Minsk ;  it  is, 
however,  more  habitable,  the  marshes  being  less  extensive. 

The  province  is  covered  by  the  Tertiary  formation  ;  Devonian 
sandstone  appears  in  the  north,  and  Carboniferous  limestones  in  the 
cast.  The  soil  is  mostly  sand,  clay  (brick-clay  and  iiotter's-clay  arc 
not  uncommon),  and  jKat-bogs,  with  a  few  patclies  of  "black- 
earth."  The  climate  is  rude  and  wet,  the  average  yearly  tempera- 
ture at  the  Gorki  moteorological  observatory  being  40°  *4  Fsitir, 
(14°*2  in  January,  and  63°*8  in  July) ;  cold  nights  m  summer  are 
often  the  cause  of  bad  crops.  The  province  has  about  1,140,000 
inhabitants  (9-17,625  in  1870),  mostly  White -Russians  (78  pel 
?:ent.),  bi^longing  to  the  Greek  Church  ;  Jews  are  numerous  (16  per 
C'-int.)  ;  Poles,  belonging  mostly  to  the  nobility,  mako  only  3  per 
cent,  of  the  population.  Agriculture  is  the  chief  occupation ; 
nearly  one  half  (46  per  cent.)  of  the  surface  of  the  pronnce  is  under 
crop  ;  but,  except  after  unusually  good  harvests,  corn  is  imported, 
chiefly  by  the  navigable  channels  of  the  Dnieper  and  SozIl  There 
are  many  distilleries  on  tho  estates  of  landowners,  and  wine-spiril 
is  exported.  The  hemp  culture  is  import-ant ;  hemp  and  hemp- 
seed  oil  are  exported  to  Riga.  Tho  province  has  one  large  paper- 
mill,  a  few  iron  and  copper  works,  and  minor  manufactures. 

Tho  province  of  MogliilefT  is  divided  into  eleven  districts,  with 
the  chief  towns  :  Jloghileff  (40,500  inhabitants),  Ohausy  (4200), 
Tcherikoir  (3900),  Gomel  (13,030),  Gorki,  formerly  the  seat  of  an 
agricultural  institute  (5050),  Klimovichi  (4000),  Jlstislavl  (6700), 
Orsha  (5350),  Rogachetf  (7750),  Staryi  Bykholf  (5200),  and  Syenno 
(2550).  Of  about  80  other  municipal  towns,  we  name  Shkloff 
(13,000  inhabitants),  Dubrovka  (7000),  Kricheff  (4000). 

■This  province  was  inhabited  in  the  10th  century  by  the  Krivichi 
and  RadimichL  In  the  14th  century  it  became  part  of  Lithuania 
and  afterwards  of  Poland.     Russia  annexed  it  in  1772. 

MoGHiLEFP  ON  THE  DNIEPER,  a  town  of  Russia,  capital 
of  the  province  of  same  name.  It  is  situated  on  both 
banks  of  the  Dnieper,  40  miles  south  of  the  Orsha  station 
of  the  railway  between  Moscow  and  Warsaw.  A  railway 
along  the  Dnieper  will  soon  bring  Moghileff  iuto  railway 
communication  with  these  capitals. 

MoghiUir  is  mentioned  for  the  first  time  in  the  14th  century 
as  a  dependency  of  the  Vitebsk,  or  of  the  Mstislavl  principality. 
At  the  beginning  of  the  15th  century  it  became  the  personal 
property  of  the  Polisli  kings.  But  it  was  continually  plundered 
— either  by  Russians,  who  attacked  it  six  times  during  tho 
16th  century,  or  by  Cossacks,  wlio  plundered  it  three  times.  Id 
tho  1 7th  century  its  inhabitants  who  belonged  to  the  Greek  Church 
-"flercd  muoJ.''  from  th»  persecutions  of  tho  Union.      lof  lfi£4 


544 


M  0  G-^M  O  H 


it  surrendered  to 'i;iissia,"  but"  in  1661  the  Russian  garrison  vas 
massacred  by  the  inhabitants.  In  the  18th  century  it  was  taken 
several  times  by  Russians  and  by  Swedes,  and  in  170S  Fetor  I. 
ordered  it  to  be  destroyed  by  fire.  It  was  annexed  to  Russia  in 
1772.  Of  40,500  inhabitants  two-thirds  arc  Jews  and  the  remainder 
AVhite-Russians,  with  a  few  Poles  (2500).  Its  m.inufactures  are 
without  importance  ;  but  one  branch  of  trade,  namely,  tlie  prepa- 
ration of  skins,  has  maintained  itself  for  many  centuries.  The 
commerce  is  mostly  in  the  hands  of  Jews  :  com,  salt,  sugar,  and 
fish  are  broURht  from  the  south,  whilst  skins  and  manufactured 
ware  imported  from  Germany  (partly  by  smugglersl  are  sent  to  the 
southern  provinces. 

MOGHILEFFoNTHEDNTESTER(J/oA;;oij),adtstricttown 
of  Russia,  situated  in  the  province  of  Podolia,  on  the  left 
bank  of  the  Dniester,  87  miles  east-south-east  of  Kamenets- 
Podolsk,  and  43  miles  from  the  Zhmerinka  railway  junc- 
tion. It  has  18,200  inhabitants,  nearly  one-half  of  whom 
are  Jews  ;  the  remainder  are  Little  Russians,  Poles  (1500), 
and  a  few  Armenians.  The  Little-Russian  inhabitants  of 
Moghileff  carry  on  agriculture,  gardening,  wine,  and  mul- 
berry culture.  The  Jews  and  Armenians  are  engaged  in 
a  brisk  trade  with  Odessa,  to  which  they  send  corn,  wine, 
spirits,  and  timber,  floated  down  from  Galicia,  as  well  as 
wth  the  interior,  to  which  they  send  manufactured  wares 
imported  from  Austria. 

Jloghileff,  named  in  honour  of  the  Moldavian  hospodar  Mohila, 
was  founded  by  Count  Potocki  about  the  end  of  the  16th  century. 
Owing  to  its  situation  on  the  highway  from  Moldavia  to  the  Ukraine, 
at  the  passage  across  the  Dnieper,  it  developed  rapidly.  For  more 
than  150  years  it  was  disputed  by  the  Cossacks,  the  Poles,  and  the 
Turks.  It  remained  in-the  hands  of  the  Poles,  and  was  annexed 
to  Russia  in  1795.  The  Crown  purchased  it  from  Count  Potocki 
in  1806. 

SIOGLLAS,  Peteus  (c.  1600-1647),  metropolitan  of 
•Kieff  from  1632,  belongfed  to  a  noble  Wallachian  family, 
and  was  bom  about  the  year  1600.  He  studied  for  some 
time  at  the  university  of  Paris,  and  first  became  a  monk 
in  1625.  He  was  the  author  of  a  Catechism  (KieflF,  1645) 
and  other  minor  works,  but  is  principally  celebrated  for 
tlie  Orthodox  Cim/ession;-^Ta.vm  up  at  his  instance  by  the 
ijibbot  Kosslowski  of  EaeflT,  approved  at  a  provincial  synod 
^n  1640,  and  accepted  by  the  patriarchs  of  Coastantinople, 
'Jerusalem,  Alexandria  and  Antioch  in  1642-3,  and  by 
the  fsynod  of  Jerusalem  in  1672.  See  Greek  Chdtich, 
vol.  xi.  p.  158. 

Tlicre  are  nnmerons  editions  of  the  Confession  in  Russian  ;  it  has 
been  edited  in  Greek  and  Latin  by  Panagiotcs  (Amsterdam,  1662), 
hy  Hofmann  (Leipsic,  1695),  and  by  Kimmel  (Jena,  1843).  and 
tiierc  is  a  Gcnnan  translation  by  Frisch  (Frankfort,  1727). 

JIOGUL,  or  Mughal,  Ji.,  the  Arabic  and  Persian 
form  of  the  word  ^longol,  usually  applied  to  the  Mongol 
empirerfin  India.     See  India,  vol.  xii.  p.  793  sqq. 

MOH  ACS,  a  market  town  in  the  Trans-Danubian  county 
of  Baranya,  Hungary,  stands  on  the  right  bank  of  the  west 
arm  of  the  Danube,  25  miles  east-south-east  of  P6c3  (Fiinf- 
kirchen),  with  which  it  is  connected  by  railway,  45°  58'  N. 
lat.,  18°  37'  E.  long.  At  MohAcs  there  are  several  churches 
and  schools  belonging  both  to  the  Roman  Catholics  and 
the  Calvinists,  also  the  summer  palace  of  the  bishop  ot 
P&3,  a  monastery,  an  old  castle,  and  a -station  for  steamers 
plying  on  the  Danube,  by  which  means  a  considerable 
commerce  in  wine  and  the  agricultural  produce  of  the 
neiglibourhood  is  carried  on  with  Budapest  and  Vienna. 
Not  far  from  MohAcs  are  coal  mines,  and  the  town  is  an 
important  coal  depot  of  the  Danubian  Steam  Navigation 
Company.  Tho  popidation  in  1880  was  12,047  (Magyars, 
Serbs,  and  Germans). 

Two  great  battles  fought  in  tho  vicinity  of  tho  town  mark  tho 
commem^ernent  and  close  of  tho  Turkish  dominion  in  Hungary. 
In  tho  first,  29th  August  1526,  tho  Hungarian  army  under  Louis 
II.  was  annihilated  by  the  Ottoman  forces  led  by  Soliman  tho 
Ma^ificent  (see  voL  xii.  p.  369).  In  the  second,  12th  Au^ist 
1687,  tho  Austiians  under  Charles  of  Lorraine  gained  a  great  and 
decisive  victoiy  over  the  Turks,  whono  power  was  afterwards  still 
further  broken  by  Prince  Kugcno  of  Savoy. 


MOHAIR  is  the  woolly  hair  of  a  variety  of  the  common 
or  domestic  goat  inhabiting  the  regions  of  Asiatic  Turkey,- 
of  which  Angora  is  the  centre,  .whence  the  animal  is  known 
as  the  Angora  Goat  (see .  Goat,  vol.  i.  p.  708).  Goat's 
hair  has  been  knovra  and  used  as  a  textile  material  in  the 
East  from  the  most  remote  periods ;  but  neither  the  Angora 
goat  nor  its  wool  was  known  in  Western  Europe  till,  in 
1655,  the  animal  was  described  by  the  naturalist  Tourne- 
fort.  That  textures  of  mohair  were  in  use  in  England 
early  in  the  18th  century  is  obvious  from  Pope's  allusion  ;— 
* '  And,  when  she  sees  her  friend  in  deep  despair. 
Observes  how  much  a  chintz  exceeds  mohair." 
Owing,  however,  to  the  jealous  restrictions  of  the  Turkish 
power,  it  was  not  till  1820  that  mohair  became  a  regular 
article  of  import  into  the  United  Kingdom.  In  that  year 
a  few  bales  came  into  the  market ;  but  so  little  was  the 
material  appreciated  that  it  only  realized  lOd.  per  ft.  In 
1870  average  mohair  fleece  was  selling  at  five  times  that 
price.  ,  From  the  small  beginning  of  1820  the  imports 
gradually  waxed,  and  the  trade  received  a  very  consider- 
able impetus  through  the  introduction  in  1836,  by  Titus 
Salt,  of  the  analogous  fibre  alpaca.  The  increasing  demand 
for  and  value  of  mohair  early  stimulated  endeavours  to 
acclimatize  the  Angora  goat  in  other  regions ;  but  all 
European  attempts  have  failed,  owing  to  humid  and  un- 
genial  climates.  In  1849  a  flock  was  taken  by  Dr  J.  P. 
Davis  to  the  United  States  of  America,  and  since  that 
time  many  fresh  drafts  have  been  obtained  and  distributed 
to  Virginia  and  various  Southern  States,  and  to  California 
and  Oregon  in  the  west.  In  these  high  and  dry  regions 
the  goats  thrive ;  and  the  flocks  in  the  Western  States 
now  number  many  thousands.  The  Angora  goat  has  also 
been  introduced  into  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope  with  much 
success.  The  first  importation  of  mohair  from  the  Cape, 
made  in  1862,  amounted  to  1036  ft  ;  and  now  about  one- 
tenth  of  the  total  British  supply  is  received  from  that 
source.  Mohair  has  also  been  received  in  England  from 
goats  reared  successfully  in  Fiji,  where  they  were  first  in- 
troduced in  1874,  and  there  are  also  thriving  flocks  in 
Australia. 

The  trade  in  mohair  between  Asia  Mijior  and  western  Europe  U 
controlled  in  Constantinople.  There  upwards  of  twenty  varieties 
of  fleeces  are  distinguished  according  to  the  localities  of  their  pro- 
duction, the  richest  and  most  lustrous  qualities  being  produced  In 
hilly  and  forest  regions,  while  the  fleeces  from  the  open  plains  arc 
comparatively  kempy,  coarse,  and  cottony.  From  the  Lake  Van 
district  on  the  eastern  borders  of  Asiatic  Turkey  a  distinct  and 
inferior  variety  of  wool  is  obtained.  It  is  known  in  commerce  ag 
Van  mohair,  and  consists,  to  theextent  of  about  70  jwr  cent.,  of  white 
wool  slightly  streaked  with  black,  with  30  per  cent,  of  coloured  red 
and  black  wool.  At  Konieh  in  the  south,  also,  an  inferior  mohair 
known  as  Polotons  is  produced,  80  per  cent,  of  which  ia  black  and 
red,  and  the  remainder  white.  The  average  weight  of  an  Angora 
goat  fleece  is  from  5  to  6  lb.  The  finest  quality  of  wool  is  obtained 
from  the  first  clip,  which  is  made  in  the  second  year  of  the  animal. 
She-goats  yield  the  best  wool,  after  which  coino  wethers,  while 
the  rams  give  the  coarsest  fleeces.  Angora  mohair  is  a  brilliant 
white  lustrous  fibre,  elastic  and  wiry  in  character,  and  devoid  of 
felting  properties.  It  attains  the  length  of  four  or  five  inches,  but 
the  long  fibre  is  mixed  ^vith  an  undergrowth  of  shorter  wool,  which 
in  tho  spinning  process  is  combetl  out  as  "  noils  "  for  separa*,o  use. 
It  is  a  material  of  enormous  durability,  and,  owin^;  to  its  remarkable 
elasticity,  it  is  especially  fitted  for  working  into  long  piled  fabrics, 
such  as  plush  and  imitation  furs,  or  for  use  in  braids  and  bindings, 
and  in  boot  and  other  laces.  It  is  largely  used  for  making  Utrecht 
velvet  or  furniture  plush  for  the  upholstering  of  railway  carriages, 
iic,  a  trade  centred  at  Amiens.  In  the  making  of  imitation  seal- 
skins, and  imitation  beaver,  otter,  chinchilla,  and  other  fui-s,  and 
for  carriage  rugs  generally,  mohair  is  extensively  employed.  Many 
dress  fabrics  of  mixed  mohair  and  alpaca,  cotton,  or  silk  are  also 
manufactured  ;  but  with  changes  in  fashion  such  materials  are  con- 
stantly changing  in  style,  composition,  and  name.  Mohair  is  also 
used  for  making  certiin  qualities  of  lace,  and  an  imitation  of  ostrich 
fcatliers  for  use  as  trimming  has  been  made  from  the  fibre.  The 
imports  of  mohair  into  the  United  Kingdom  during  1882  amounted 
to  16,859,771  n>,  valued  at  £1,433,531,  a  quantity  Idrgoly  in  excess 
of  the  imports  of  any  pro\ioiis  year. 


VOL.X\'l 


ITISM 


PLATEYm. 


545 


MOHAMMEDANISM 


■Undee  this  head  is  given  the  history  of  Mohammed  and 
his  successors  to  the  fall  of  the  Eastern  Caliphate,  ■nith  a 
sketch  of  the  institutions  and  civilization  of  the  Moslem 
empire  and  an  account  of  the  Koran.     The  later  history 


must  be  sought  unaer  the  names  of  individual  countries  and 
dynasties.  What  falls  to  be  said  of  the  social  and  religious 
aspects  of  Lslam  in  modern  times  will  be  given  under  the 
two  great  divisions  of  Susxites  and  Sni'iTES. 


PART  L— MOHAMMED  AND  THE  FIEST  FOUR   CALIPHS. 


.rabia.Tl 
16  biril 


MOHAMMED!  or  MAHOMET,  the  founder  of  Islam, 
first  appears  in  the  full  light  of  history  with  his 
Flight  to  Medina  (The  Hijra),  a.d.'  622 ;  and  this  date, 
not  that  of  his  birth,  bus  been  fittingly  chosen  as  the 
epoch  of  the  Moslem  Era.  The  best-attested-  tradition- 
places  his  first  appearance  as  a  prophet  in  Mecca  some 
twelve  years  earlier  {circa  610).  He  was  then  forty  years 
old  :  the  forty  must  be  taken  as  a  round  number,  but  as 
such  is  doubtless  trustworthy.  Thus  the  birth  of  Moham- 
med falls  about  570  a.d.  :  it  is  said  to  have  fallen  in  the 
year  when  AbrahA,  the  Abyssinian  viceroy  of  Yemen,  made 
the  expedition  against  Mecca,  mentioned  in  the  Koran, 
when  the  Arabs  first  saw  the  elephant  and  first  suffered 
from  smallpox.' 

;  At  the  time  of  Mohammed's  birth  and  youth  nothing 
'  seemed  less  likely  than  that  the  Arabs  should  presently 
make  their  triimiphal  entrance  into  the  history  of  the 
world  as  victors  over  the  Greeks  and  Persians.  Nowhere 
in  the  Peninsula  was  there  an  independent  state  of  any 
considerable  power  and  importance.  At  the  beginning  of 
the  6th  century  indeed  the  princes  of  Kinda  had  attempted 
to  form  a  national  kingdom,  uniting  in  particular  the 
tribes  of  central  Arabia ;  but  this  kingdom  was  nothing 
more  than  an  epic  prelude  to  the  true  history  of  the  Arabs, 
which  begins  with  Islam.  After  the  fall  of  the  Kindite 
dynasty,  the  old  anarchy  reigned  again  among  the  nomada 
of  the  Nejd  and  the  HijAz ;  in  all  other  quarters  Greek  or 
Persian  influence  predominated,  extending  from  the  frontier 
deep  into  the  interior  by  the  aid  of  two  vassal  states — the 
kingdom  of  the  Ghassanids  in  the  Haurin  under  Greek 
suzerainty,  and  that  of  the  Lakhmids  iu  Hira  and  Anbdr 
under  the  Persian  empire.  The  antagonism  between  By- 
zantium and  Ctesiphon  was  reflected  in  the  feuds  of  these 
Arab  lordships ;  but  indeed  the  rivalry  of  Greek  and  Persian 
exercised  its  influence  even  on  the  distant  South  of  the 
Peninsula.  Urged  on  by  the  Greeks,  the  Abyssinians  had 
overthrown  the  Christian-hating  realm  of  the  Himyarites, 
the  sunken  remnant  of  the  ancient  might  of  the  Sabaeans 
(a.d.  526),  the  Persians  had  helped  a  native  prince  again 
to  expel  the  Christians  (circa  570),  and  since  then  the 
Persians  had  retained  a  footing  in  the  land.  Toward  the 
close  of  the  6th  century,  their  direct  and  indirect  influence 


^  The  name  Mohammad  means  in  Arabic  "the  praised,"  and  it  has 
been  supposed  that  this  epithet  was  conferred  on  the  Prophet  after  his 
mission  to  mark  him  out  as  the  promised  Paraclete.  Tliis,  however, 
is  incorrect  (Noldeka,  Gesch.  d.  Qoram  [Gdtt.  1S60],  p.  6,  note  2; 
Sprenger,  Leben  und  Lekre  des  AT,  i.  155  sq.)  The  name  is  found, 
although  it  was  not  common,  among  the  lieatfaen  Arabs.  Renau  has 
fihown  it  to  occur  on  a  Greek  inscription  of  the  early  part  of  the  2d 
centurj-  of  the  Christian  era  (Boeckh,  C.  I.  C,  4300),  and  Mohammed 
ibn  Maslama  of  Medina,  a  contemporary  of  the  Prophet,  bore  it  as  his 
original  name,  as  appears  from  the  fact  that  his  brother  was  called 
Mahmud,  it  being  a  favoarite  practice  to  give  to  brothers  variations  of 
the  same  name,  as  jinas  and  Minis,  Sahl  and  Sohail,  Monabbih  and 
Wobaih  (Sprenger,  i.  158,  note  2).  That  Mohammed  calls  himself 
Ahmad,  in  sur.  IxL  6,  in  order  to  adapt  bis  name  to  a  supposed  pro- 
phecy, proves  nothing  ;  on  the  other  hand,  the  men  of  Mecca,  on  occa- 
sion of  a  tieaty  with  the  Moslems,  demanded  that  the  Prophet  shoild 
not  call  himself  messenger  of  God,  but  Mohammed  ibn  'Abdallih, 
using  his  old  familiar  name;  see  J.  Wellhauseu,  VaJndi'a  Kifub  al- 
Maghaziin  verk&rzter  deiUsdier  ^yiedergahe  {^i\.  18S2),.p.  257. 

^  Niildeke,  ut  supra,  p.  54  sq. 

'  Noldeko,  Getch.  d.  Perser  und  Araicr  ntr  Zeil  der  Siuanidcn 
«iu  .  .  .   Tabari  ibersetst  (Leyden,  1879),  pp.  205,  218. 


in  Arabia  greatly  surpassed  that  of  the  Greeks  ;  and  since 
the  Kindites  had  fallen  before  the  kings  of  Hiia,  it  extended 
right  through  the  Nejd  into  Yemen. ^ 

In  the  Hijaz  and  western  Nejd,  the  district  from  which 
Islam  and  the  Arab  empire  took  their  beginning,  Greeks 
and  Persians,  Ghassanids  and  Lakhmids,  had  not  much 
influence ;  the  nomad  tribes,  and  the  lew  urban  common- 
wealths that  existed  there,  lived  free  from  foreifjn  interfer- 
ence, after  the  mannfr  of  their  fathers.  Jlohammed's  city 
was  Mecca,  where  the  Banii  Kindna  had  formed  a  settle-  Mc 
ment  roimd  the  Ka'ba,  the  sanctuary  of  a  number  of  con- 
federate tribes  (AhAblsh)  belonifing  to  that  district.  The 
feast  annually  observed  in  the  days  before  the  full  moon  of 
the  month  Dhii  '1-Hijja  at  Mecca  and  at  'Arafa  and  Kozah  in 
the  vicinity,  presented  strong  attractions  for  all  inhabitants 
of  the  Hijdz,  and  grew  into  a  great  fair,  at  which  the 
Meccans  sold  to  the  Bedouins  the  goods  they  imported 
from  Syria.  Feast  and  fair  gave  the  city  the  prosperity 
which  it  shared  with  other  cities  which,  like  Mecca,  had 
the  advantage  of  lying  near  the  meeting-place  of  the  two 
great  natural  roads  to  Yemen — that  from  the  north-west 
along  the  Red  Sea  coast,  and  that  from  the  north-east  fol- 
lowing the  hue  of  the  mountains  that  traverse  the  Nejd.' 

By  their  trading  journeys  the  Koraish"  had  acquired  a 
knowledge  of  the  world,  especially  of  the  G.»seco-Syrian 
world  :  the  relative  superiority  of  their  culture  raised  them 
not  only  above  the  Bedouins,  but  above  the  agricultural 
population  of  such  a  city  as  Medina ;  the  art  of  reading 
and  writing  was  pretty  widely  diffused  among  them.  The 
Koraish  within  the  city  were  the  Banii  KaTj  ibn  Loay, 
those  in  the  surrounding  country  Banii  'Amir  ibn  Loay ; 
the  townsmen  proper  were  again  subdivided  into  Jlotayya- 
biin  and  AhUf — the  latter  were  the  new  citizens,  who  wera 
distinguished  from  the  old  settlers  by  the  same  name  in 
other  Arabian  towns,  as  in  Taif  and  Hira.  The  community 
was  a  mere  confederation  of  neighbouring  septs,  each 
occupying  its  own  quarter ;  there  was  no  magistracy,  the 
town  as  such  had  no  authority.  All  political  action  centred 
in  the  several  septs  and  their  heads ;  if  they  held  together 
against  outsiders,  this  was  due  to  interest  and  a  sense  of 
honour,  a  voluntary  union  strengthened  by  the  presence 
of  public  opinion.  In  the  time  of  Mohammed,  the  most 
numerous  and  wealthy  sept  was  that  of  the  Banii  Makhziim  ; 
but  that  of  the  Banii  'Abdsha^is  was  the  most  distinguished. 
The  Banii  Omayya  were  the  most  powerfid  house  of  "Abd- 
shams ;  their  head,  Abii  Sofyin  ibn  Harb,  exercised  a  de- 
cisive  influence  in  the  concerns  of  the  whole  community. 
Mohammed  himself  was  of  the  Banii  Hiishim;  it  is  afiirmed 
that  these  had  formerly  enjoyed  and  claimed  of  right  the 
position  actually  enjoyed  by  the  Banii  Omayya,  but  thia 
assertion  seems  to  have  had  its  origin  in  the  claims  to 
the  Caliphate  which  the  Hashimites  (the  house  of  'Ali  and 
the  'Abbdsids)  subsequently  set  up  against  the  Omajyads.^ 


*  On  the  state  of  Arabia  before  Islam  see  Caussiu  de  Perceval,  Essai 
Siir  Vhistoirt  des  Arabes,  vol,  ii, ;  Mtiir,  Li/e  of  Mah.,  vol  i. 

*  Marr  al-Zahran,  near  Mecca,  is  accordingly  said  to  have  been  the 
point  at  which  the  great  emigration  of  tribes  from  Yemen  p.arted  into 
two  streams,  moving  north-west  and  north-east  respectively. 

*  The  Koraish  were  the  branch  of  Kinana  settled  in  and  abont 
Mecca.  They  are  called  also  Ghdlib  and  Fihr,  but  the  last  name  i« 
particularly  applied  to  tliose  of  the  Koi-aish  who  did  not  live  withia 
the  town.  '  Sprenger,  vol.  iil  p.  cix.  *j. 

XVI.  —  6q 


546 


MOHAMMEDANISM 


[hohakmed. 


Tooth  of  Mohammed's  father,  'Abdalldh  b.  'Abdalmottalib,  did 
the  Pro-  not  live  to  see  the  son's  birth,  and  his  mother  Amina 
pl'ft-  died  wliile  he  was  still  a  child.  Mohammed  was  then 
cared  for  first  by  his  grandfather,  "Abdalmottalib,  and 
after  liis  death  by  his  oldest  paternal  ilncle,  Abii  Tdlib 
b.  "Abdalmottalib.  He.  was  kindly  treated,  but  shared 
the  hardships  of  a  numerous  and  very  poor  family ;  he 
herded  sheep  and  gathered  wild  berries  in  the  desert. 
This  is  all  that  we  know  of  his  youth  (sur.  xciii.  6),  all 
else  is  legend,  containing  at  roost  an  occasional  fragment 
of  truth.i 

It  was,  we  are  told,  in  his  twenty-fifth  year  that 
Mohammed,  on  the  recommendation  of  his  uncle,  entered 
the  house  and  business  of  a  wealthy  widow  named  Khadija. 
For  her  he  made  commercial  journeys,  thus  learning  to 
know  part  of  Palestine  and  Syria,  and  perhaps  receiving 
impressions  which  fructified  in  his  soul.-  By  and  by  he 
married  the  widow,  who  was  much  his  senior ;  he  was  a 
shrewd  man,  with  prepossessing  countenance,  fair  of  skin, 
and  black-haired.  The  marriage  was  happy,  and  blessed 
with  several  children.  The  two  sons,  however,  died  young; 
from  the  elder  the  father  received  the  surname  Abil  '1- 
KAsim.  The  most  famous  of  the  daughters  was  Fitima, 
who  married  her  father's  cousin,  'Ali  b.  Abl  T^lib. 
Arabian  During  his  married  life  with  Khadija,  Mohammed  came  in 
K'.igioD.  contact  with  a  religious  movement  which  had  laid  Hold  on 
some  thoughtful  minds  in  Medina,  Mecca,  and  T^if-  In 
Mecca,  as  elsewhere,  Arabian  heathenism  was  a  traditional 
form  of  worship,  chiefly  concentrated  in  great  feasts  at  the 
holy  places ;  it  was  clung  to  because  it  had  come  down 
from  the  fathers.  The  gods  were  many  ;  their  importance 
was  not  due  to  the  attributes  ascribed  to  them,  but  to 
their  connection  with  special  circles  in  which  they  were 
worshipped.  They  were  the  patrons  of  septs '  and  tribes, 
and  symbolized,  so  to  speak,  the  holy  unity  which  united 
the  present  and  past  members  of  these.  Above  them  all 
stood  Allah,  the  highest  and  universal  God.*  By  him  the 
holiest  oaths  were  svvorn ;  in  his  name  {Bismika  Alldhummd) 
treaties  and  covenants  were  sealed ;  the  lower  gods  were 
not  fit  to  be  invoked  in  such  cases,  as  they  belonged  to  one 
party  instead  of  standing  over  both.  The  enemy  was  re- 
minded of  Allah  to  deter  him  from  inhuman  outrage ; 
enemy  of  AUAh  ("aduw  AUAh,  ^coo-TuyTJs)  was  the  name  of 
opprobrium  for  a  villain.     But,  since  Allih  ruled  over  all 


'  *  The  tradition  relates  that  as  an  infant  Mohammed  was  entrusted 
/to  a  Bedouin  foster-mother,  Halima,  who  brought  him  up  among  her 
ipeople,  the  Banu  Sa'd  b.  Laith.  Sprenger  (I  162  sq.)  will  have  it  that 
■this  precise  statement  is  also  a  fiction  ;  but  he  is  probably  wrong.  It 
'can  hardly  be  disputed  that  Bedouin  women  were  accustomed  to  suckle 
'the  children  of  townsfolk  for  wages,  and  Mohammed's  "milk-kinship  " 
with  the  Banu  Sa'd  b.  Laith  is  confirmed  by  what  happened  at  and 
after  the  battle  of  Honain.  A  nephew  of  Mohammed  was  .also 
brought  up  among  the  Sa'd.  Comp.  Vakidiy  ul  supra,  pp.  '364,  377  sq,, 
431,  note  1. 

'  =  He  saw  the  mute  witnesses  of  divine  judgment,  the  rock-dwellings 
of  Hijr  and  the  Dead  Sea  ;  perhaps,  too,  he  was  impressed  by  the 
figure  of  some  venerable  monk  (Bahira  legends).  Comp.  Ibn  Hishdm, 
p.  115  sq.;  Sprenger,  i.  p.  178  sqq, 

|.  »  Vakidi,  p.  350  :  IdoU  were  found  in  every  house,  and  homage 
Wai  paid  to  them  when  men  wont  out  or  in  to  gain  their  blessing.  Abii 
Eajrat  made  and  sold  them  ;  there  was  a  lively  trade  in  idols  with  the 
Bedouins. 

y  *  The  particular  gods  are  said  to  have  been  regarded  as  children  of 
AUih  (D^n^K  '33)-  From  sur.  liiL  21,  xxxvii.  149,  it  appears  that 
the  Mcccans  called  their  goddesses  daughters  of  Alldh  ;  perhaps 
it  was  their  disputes  with  Mohammed  that  forced  them  to  this  view. 
At  first,  certainly,  al-L4t  and  nl-'07.z.4  were  names  of  the  wife  of  the 
supreme  god  ;  sexual  dualism  dominated  in  the  oldest  Arab  idea  of 
tho  godhead.  It  was  Mohammed  who  first  reduced  the  gods  to 
Jlnns — i.e.  to  subordinate  demons  and  kobolds — as  be  did  not  deny 
).heir  eiktence,  but  only  stripped  off  their  divinity.  To  say  that  the 
oldest  Arabs  worshipped  Jinns  is  .is  unre.isonable  is  to  say  that  they 
Worshipped  the  devil ;  for  Islam  degiaded  the  gods  to  Shnitins  as  well 
03  to  Jinns.  Superstition  certainly  played  its  port  among  the  Arabs, 
l>nt.6uperBtitiOQ  is  not  rvUgiqn, 


and  imposed  duties  on  all;  it  was  not  thought  that  one 
could  enter  into  special  relations  with  Jiim.  In  worfldp 
he  had  the  last  place,  those  gods  being  preferred  who 
represented  the  interests  of  a  specific  circle,  and  fulfilled 
the  private  desires  of  their  worshippers.'  Neither  the  fear 
of  AJldh,  however,  nor  reverence  for  the  gods  had  much 
Influence.  The  chief  practical  consequence  of  the  great 
feasts  was  the  observance  of  a  truce  in  the  holy  months, 
and  this  in  course  of  time  had  become  mainly  an  affair  of 
pure  practical  convenience.  In  general,  the  disposition  of 
the  heathen  Arabs,  if  it  is  at  all  truly  reflected  in  their 
poetry,  was  profane  in  an  imusual  degree.  Wine,  the 
chase,  gaming,  and  love  on  the  one  side  ;  vengeance,  feuds, 
robbery,  and  glory  on  the  other,  occupy  all  the  thoughts  of 
the  old  poets.  Their  motives  to  noble  deeds  are  honour 
and  family  feeling ;  they  hardly  name  the  gods,  much 
less  feel  any  need  of  them.  The  man  sets  all  his  trust  on 
himself  :  he  rides  alone  through  the  desert,  his  sv^-ord  helps 
him  in  danger,  no  God  stands  by  him,  he  commends  his 
soul  to  no  saint.  His  reckless  egoism  may  expand  to  noble 
self-sacrific  for  the  family  and  the  tribe ;  but  in  this 
heroism  religious  impulses  have  no  part,  there  is  nothing 
mystical  in  these  hard,  clear,  and  yet  so  passionate  natures. 
The  only  vein  of  what  can  in  any  sense  be  called  religious 
feeling  appears  when  the  volcano  has  burned  itself  out  and 
the  storm  of  life  is  over ;  then,  it  may  be,  a  wail  is  heard 
over  the  vanity  of  all  the  restless  activity  that  is  now 
spent.^  It  is  very  possible  that  religion  meant  more  to  tho 
sedentary  Arabs  than  to  the  nomads,  to  whom  almost  all 
the  ancient  poetry  belongs ;  but  the  diilerence  cannot  have 
been  great.  The  ancient  inhabitants  of  Jlecca  practised 
piety  essentially  as  a  trade,  just  as  they  do  now ;  their 
trade  depended  on  the  feast,  and  its  fair  on  the  inviolability 
of  the  Haram  and  on  tho  truce  of  the  holy  months.' 

The  religion  of  the  Arabs  before  Moliammed  was  de- 1 
crepit  and  effete.'  Many  anecdotes  and  verses  prove  that  ' 
indifl'erence  and  scoffing  neglect  of  the  gods  was  nothing- 
uncommon.  The  need  for  a  substitute  for  the  lost  religitin 
was  not  very  widely  felt.  But  there  were  individuals  who 
were  not  content  with  a  negation,  and  sought  a  better  re- 
ligion. Such  were  Omayya  b.  Abl  '1-Salt  in  Tiif,  Zaid  b. 
"Amr  in  Mecca,  Abii  Kais  b.  Abi  Anas,  and  Abii  'Amir  in 
Medina.'      They  were  called   Hanlfs,   probably  meaning 


»  Vakidi,  pp.  3CS,  note  1,  370,  note  1  ;  Sprenger,  iii.  457  sq.,  512. 
'Whether  the  feast  at  Mecca  was  celebrated  in  honour  of  AllAh  before 
Mohammed,  is  very  doubtful.  It  would  seem  that  Hobal  w-as  wor- 
shipped in  the  Ka'ba  {Ibn  Hisham,  p.  97  sq.),  and  Kozah  in  Mozdalifa 
{Vakidi,  p.  428);  it  is  possible,  however,  that  Allah  stood  to  Hobal 
among  the  Arabs  as  El  to  Jnhw^  among  the  Hebrews.  Ritual  sacri- 
fices were  generally  presented  to  a  god  who  had  a  proper  name  ;  but 
the  trace  of  a  religious  rite  which  still  survived  in  the  ordinary  killing 
of  beasts  for  food,  possibly  rnn:.;stcd  even  before  Mohammed  in  the 
invocation  of  the  name  of  All.-ih  (Spi-enger,  ii.  478,  note  1;  but  comp, 
Vakidi,  p.  160,  note  1,  p.  168). 

*  '*We  hasten  towards  an  unknown  goal,  and  forget  it  in  eating  and 
drinking.  We  are  sparrows  and  flies  and  worms,  but  more  daring 
than  famishing  wolves.  .  .  .  My  roots  reach  down  to  the  depths  of  tho 
earth  ;  but  this  Death  spoils  me  of  my  youth,  and  of  my  sotj  he  spoils 
me  and  of  my  body,  and  right  soon  lie  lays  me  in  the  dust.  I  have 
urged  my  camel  through  every  desert,  wide-stretching  and  shimmering 
wlh  mir,Tgo  ;  and  I  have  ridden  in  the  devouring  host,  reaching  after 
the  honours  of  greedy  perils,  and  I  joined  in  the  fray  under  every  sky 
till  I  longed  for  the  home-coming  instead  of  booty.  But  can  1, 
after  Harith's  death,  and  after  the  death  of  Hojr,  the  noblo  host — can 
I  hop'e  for  a  softer  lot  from  the  change  of  time,  which  does  not  forget 
the  liard  mountains?  I  know  that  I  must  soon  be  transfixed  by  hij 
talon  and  tooth  as  befell  my  father  and  my  grandsii-e,  not  to  forget  him 
that  was  slain  at  Koldh." — Amraalkais,  cd.  Slane,  No.  10,  p.  33; 
cd.  Ahlwardt,  No.  5.  -  ~    -     ~    -j 

^  Sec,  on  Arabian  heathenism,  Tococke,  Specimen  hist  Arabumj 
Krehl,  Religion  dcr  vorislamisdien  Arabcr  (Leip.  1863);  Sprenger,' 
i.  241  sq.  •  Vakidi,  p.  293,  noU  1.      ^    ^   ^  ■> 

•  See,  for  Omayya,  Kitib  al-Aglidnl  (Bilik  ed.>,  iii.  _186  tq.  /  foi 
Zaid,  Ibn  Hishim,  p.  143  sq.  ;  for  Abii  Kais,  id.  348  sq.,  39  sq.  ;  «nij 
for  Ab(i  'Amir,  Vakidi,  pp.  103, 161,  190,  410. 


)COHAXU£D.] 


M.O  HAMMED  AN  ISM 


547 


"penitents",  men  vrio  BtriveTolree  themselves  from  sin.^ 
They  did  not  constitute  a  regular  sect,  and  had  in  fact  no 
fixed  and  organized  views.  They  had,  no  doubt,  inter- 
course with  one  another,  but  were  not  a  close  society;  they 
thought  more  of  their  own  souls  than  of  propaganda ;  only 
in  Medina  they  seem  to  have  been  more  niunerous.  They 
rejected  polytheism  and  acknowledged  Allih,  but  not  so 
much  on  intellectual  grounds  as  on  grounds  of  conscience. 
Faith  in  the  one  God  was  with  them  identical  with  pious 
resignation  (Isldm)  to  his  will ;  their  monotheism  was  most 
closely  aUied  to  the  sense  of  responsibility  and  of  a  coming 
judgment ;  it  stood  opposed  to  the  worldly  ideas  of  the 
idolaters,  and  was  an  impulse  to  upright  and  sin-avoiding 
walk.  They  were  not  theorists,  but  ascetics.  It  was  the 
[Primitive  ideas  of  Law  and  Gospel  ("  the  religion  of  Abra- 
3iam'")  that  Uved  again  in  them.  They  felt  on  the  whole 
less  attracted  towards  the  developed  forms  of  the  religion  of 
fiBvelation;  they  rather  sought  after  some  new  form ;  few  of 
them  attached  themselves  to  existing  religious  communities. 
'  Mohammed,  it  would  appear,  came  into  connexion  with 
these  Hanifs  through  a  cousin  of  his  wife,  Waraka  b. 
Naufal,  who  was  one  of  them.  Their  doctrines  found  a 
frjiitful  soil  in  his  heart ;  he  was  seized  with  a  profound 
isense  .of  dependence  on  the  omnipresent  and  omnipotent 
Lord,  and  of  responsibility  towards  him.  Following  the 
example  of  old  Zaid  b.  'Amr,  he  no'se  frequently  withdrew 
lor  "considerable  periods  to  the  solitude  of  the  bare  and 
desolate  Mount  Hiri,  and  meditated  there  with  prayer 
and  ascetic  exercises.  For  years,  perhaps,  hfO  went  on  in 
thpse  purely  individual  exercises,  without  anything  to  dis- 
tinguish hm  essentially  from  the  others  who  helcL  similar 
views.  But  in  him  the  Hanifite  ideas  lodged  themselves 
in  a  natural  temperament  which  had  a  sickly  tendency  to 
excitement  and  vision,  and  so  produced  a  fermentation  that 
ended  in  an  explosion.^  ■  Thus  he  became  a  prophet ;  he 
felt  himself  constrained  to  leave  the  silent  circle  of  ascetics 
and  make  a  propaganda  for  the  truth.  In  this  resolve  he 
was  unquestionably  influenced  by  what  he  knew  of  the 
example  of  the  BibUcal  prophets,  perhaps  also  by  the  cir- 
cumstance that  a  longing  after  a  new  founder  of  religion 
was  diffused  among  the  Hanifs,  and  found  support  in  some 
dim  acquaintance  with  the  Messianic  hopes  of  the  Jews, 
JeaiA  That  Mohammed  did  not  independently  produce  his  own 
«J>d  ideas  is  indisputable ;  nor  is  it  to  be  doubted  that  he  de- 
^l"f '"^  rived  them  from  the  Hanifs.  But  what  was  the  ultimate 
source  of  these  first  motions  towards  Islam !  In  general 
they  are  ascribed  to  a  Jewish  source.  Jews  were  very 
numerous  in  Hij4z  and  Yemen,  and  had  perfectly  free 
intercourse  with  the  Arabs,  to  whom  they  undoubtedly 
imparted  a  quantity  of  Biblical  and  religious  material 
Mohammed  in  particular  was  mdebted  to  the  Jews  for 
almost  all  the  stories  and  a  great  part  of  the  laws  of  the 
Koran  (laws  of  marriage,  purity,  etc.),  and  the  theological 
language  of  Islam  is  full  of  Jewish  words.  But  the  ori- 
ginal and  productive  forces  of  Islam  did  not  spring  from 
Judaism,  least  of  all  the  ideas  of  the  Judgment  and  of  the 
inexorable  demands  set  before  the  creature  by  his  Creator, 


^  Sprcnger  (p.  38  sq.)  connects  Hanif  with  13PI,  and  expounds  it 
per  antiphrasin  as  htciis  a  mm  lucendo,  on  the  ingenious  fashion  of 
A.  Geiger.  As  tahannuth  =  iahannuf  is  the  technical  name  of  such 
solitary  ascetic  practices  as  llohammed  himself  engaged  in  before  his 
call,  Hanif  may  be  taken  to  mean  a  muiaJtannifby  profession.  The 
connexion  between  Tuini/ and  tahannvfi^  certain,  and  it  seems  equally 
certain  that  taJmnnuf  as  an  equivalent  of  tahannuth  comes  not  from 
fuinif  but  from  hirUh  (for  hinf),  and  means  not  to  play  the  Hanif  but  to 
concern  oneself  with  one's  sin,  to  purge  oneself  of  it. 

^  It  is  disputed  v/hether  Mohammed  was  epileptic,  cataleptic,  hys- 
teric, or  what  not ;  Sprenger  seems  to  think  that  the  answer  to  this 
medical  question  is  tlie  key  to  the  whole  problem  of  Islam.  It  is 
certain  that  he  had  a  tendency  to  see  visions,  and  suffered  from  fits 
which  threw  him  for  a  time  into  a  swoon,  without  loss  of  inner  con- 
•fiousuess. 


which  are  so  dominant  in  the  older  siiras,  A  distinction 
must  be  drawn  between  the  primitive  impulses  and  the 
material  added  later ;  Mohammed  did  not  get  his  leaVen 
from  the  Jews,  they  only  supplied  him  afterwards  with 
meal  Neither  in  truth  can  Christianity  be  viewed  as  the 
proper  source  of  Islam — Christianity,  that  is,  in  any  of 
■its  great  historical  developments.  The  Arabs  knew  Greek, 
Syrian,  and  Ab3rssinian-Himyaritic  churches ;  manifold  in- 
fluences from  these  doubtless  reache.l  Islam,  but  in  none 
of  them  did  the  idea  of  Judgment  still  stand  as  the  central 
point  of  religion  ;  the  living  sense  of  divine  reality  ruling 
over  the  life  was  half  extinguished  by  the  developments  of 
theology.  But  in  the  Syro- Babylonian  desert,  off  the  line 
of  the  church's  main  advance,  primitive  forms  of  Chris- 
tianity, perhaps  also  of  Essenism,  still  survived,  which  the 
course  of  chiirch  history  had  left  untouched.  To  these  belong 
on  the  one  hand  the  Sabians  ("  Baptists,"  from  J)3i'),  on  the 
other  the  numerous  anchorets  of  these  regions.  The  con- 
nection of  Islam  with  the  Sabians  appears  from  the  fact 
that  in  Mecca  and  T^if  its  adherents  were  simply  known 
as  Sabians.'  From  them,  however,  were  derived,  it  would 
seem,  for  the  most  part  only  externals,  though  the  import- 
ance of  these  must  on  no  account  be  undervalued.  The 
deepest  influence  exercised  on  the  Hanifs,  and  through 
them  on  the  Prophet,  appears  to  have  come  from  the  an- 
chorite ascetics.  How  popular  they  were  with  the  Arabs, 
appears  from  the  Bedouin  poetry ;  what  power  they  exer- 
cised over  the  minds  even  of  the  heathen,  is  proved  by 
various  episodes  in  the  history  of  GhassAn  and  Hlra ;  how 
well  the  Arabs  knew  this  difference  between  them  and  the 
shaven  clergy,  is  seen  in  the  instructions  of  Abilbekr  to  the 
commanders  in  the  Syrian  campaigns.  It  was  not  their 
doctrine  that  proved  impressive,  but  the  genuine  earnest- 
ness of  their  consecrated  Ufe,  spent  in  preparation  for  the 
Ufe  to  come,  for  the  day  of  judgment,  and  forming  the  sharp- 
est contrast  to  the  profanity  of  heathenism.  Ascesis  and 
meditation  were  the  chief  points  with  the  Hanifs  also,  and 
they  are  sometimes  called  by  the  same  name  with  tha 
Christian  monks.*  It  can  hardly  be  wrong  to  conclude'^ 
that  these  nameless  witnesses  of  the  Gospel,  unmentionedi 
in  church  history,  scattered  the  seed  from  which  sprang 
the  germ  of  Islam. 

The  tradition  gives  a  telling  story  of  the  way  in  wmcn  Mohai 
Mohammed  at  length  came  to  proclaim  openly  what  had  raed'e 
long  been  Uving  and  working  within  him  ;  in  other  words,    •  .' 
how  he  became  a  prophet.     Once,  in  the  month  of  Rama- 
dan, while  he  repeated  his  pious  exercises  and  meditations 
on  Mount  Hiri,  the  angel  Gabriel  came  to  Jiim  by  night 
as  he  slept,  held  a  silken  scroll  before  him  and  compelled 
him,  though  he  could  notread,  to  recite  what  stood  written 
on  it.*     This  was  the  first  descent  of  a  passage  of  the 
heavenly  book,  the  source  of  revelation  from  which  Moses 
and  Jesus  and  all  prophets  had  drawu;  and  so  Mohammed 
was  called  to  be  a  prophet.     The  worfls  with  which  Gabriel 
had  summoned  him  to  read,  remained  graven  on  his  heart. 
They  were  the  beginning  of  sur.  xcvi. — 


'  Ibn  Hishim  (p.  835)  relates  that  the  Bauii  Jadhima  announced 
their  conversion  to  Islam  to  Khilid  in  the  words,  "  We  are  become 
Sabians."  Kenan, .Siudes d'Aisfoire  «I.  (1863),  p.  257,  misunderstands 
this  utterance. 

*  Abii  'Amir  is  as  often  called  Rihlb  as  Han(f.  All  the  accounts 
indicate  that  the  Hanifs  stood  nearer  to  Christianity  than  to  Judaism, 
not  only  in  Taif  but  elsewhere.  Interesting  in  the  highest  degree  is  a 
verse  ascribed  to  Sakhr  al-Ghay  in  the  HodhaUian  Poems,  ed.  Kose- 
garten  18,  11.  A  thundercloud  is  there  described,  the  centre  of  which 
is  an  impenetrable  mass  ;  only  on  the  outer  fringe  a  restless  motion  is 
discernible.  "Its  fringes  on  the  mountain-ridge  (al-MalA)  are  like 
Christians  celebrating  a  banquet  when  they  have  found  a  Hanif,  (and 
so  mn  to  and  fro  in  the  restlessness  of  glad  excitement)." 
■•  °  Of  course  any  one  cnn  read  in  a  vision.  Tlco  question  discussed 
even  by  Moslems,  as  to  whether  the  Prophet  could  read  or  not,  has  at 
least  DO  place  in  this  connexion. 


548 


MOHAMMEDANISM 


[MOnAifMKD. 


"  Read  I  in  the  namo  of  tliy  Lord,  who  created,  created  man  from 
a  drop.  Read  I  for  thy  Lord  is  the  Most  High  wlio  hath  taught 
hy  the  pen,  hath  taught  to  man  what  lie  knew  not.  Nay  truly 
man  walkcth  in  delusion,  when  ho  deems  that  he  suffices  for  him- 
self;  to  thy  Lord  they  must  all  return." 

^yllat  is  Lere  recorded  is  the  commencement,  not  of 
Mohammed's  knowledge,  but  of  his  prophesying.  That 
the  latter  was  due  to  a  vision  experienced  by  him  on  a 
night  of  the  month  Ramadan  (sur.  xcvii.  1,  ii.  181:)  is 
certain,  and  it  is  at  least  very  possible  that  the  form  of 
the  vision  was  governed  by  the  traditional  conception  of 
revelation  and  prophecy  which  Mohammed  had  learned  to 
accept.^  It  is,  of  course,  uncertain  whether  the  words  in 
which  the  angel  called  the  Prophet  are  really  contained  in 
sur.  xcvi.  Certainly  this  siira  is  very  early,  and  its  con- 
tents are,  indeed,  the  best  expression  of  the  original  ideas 
of  Islam.  Man  lives  on  content  with  himself,  but  he  must 
one  day  return  to  his  Creator  and  Lord,  and  give  account 
to  him.  This  is  in  a  sense  the  material  principle  of  the 
oldest  faith  of  Lslam  ;  the  formal  principle  is  the  very  pro- 
minent doctrine  of  revelation  in  writing  copied  from  the 
leavenly  book. 

When  the  angel  left  him — so  the  tradition  runs  on-^— 
Jtohammed  came  to  Khadija  and  recounted  the  occurrence 
to  her  in  much  distress ;  he  thought  that  he  was  possessed. 
She  however  comforted  him,  and  confirmed  him  in  the  belief 
that  he  had  received  a  revelation  and  was  called  as  a  mes- 
senger of  God.  .  Yet  his  doubts  returned,  when  there  ensued 
a  break  in  the  revelation,  and  they  reached  a  distressing 
height.  He  was  often  on  the  point  of  seeking  death  by 
casting  himself  down-  from  Mount  HirA.  It  is  usuaDy 
assumed  that  this  state  of  anguish  lasted  fron.  two  to  three 
years.  Then  the  angel  is  said  to  have  suddenly  appeared 
a  second  time ;  he  came  to  Khadija  in  great  excitement 
and  said  :  "Wrap  me  up  !  wrap  me  up  !"  This,  it  must 
be  explained,  was  done  when  he  fell  into  one  of  his  swoons  ; 
and  on  this  occasion,  as  often  thereafter,  the  revelation 
came  during  an  attack.  Then  was  sent  do^vn  siira  Ixxiv. 
beginning  with  the  address — "O  thou  enveloped  one!" 
Henceforth  there  was  no  interruption  and  no  doubt ;  the 
revelations  followed  without  break,  and  the  Prophet  was 
assured  of  his  vocation. 

That  Mohammed  did  pass  through  many  doubts  and 
much  distress  before  he  reached  this  assurance,,  may  well 
be  believed  (siu*.  xciii.  '3) ;  but  the  systematic  development 
Tlio  of  the  doctrine  of  the  fatra,  or  interval  of  from  two  to 
fati-a.  three  years  between  the  first  and  second  revelation,  belongs 
to  a  later  stage  of  tradition.  It  appears  that  it  was .  de- 
vised to  dispose  of  the  controversy  whether  Mohammed 
lived  as  a  proj)het  in  Mecca  for  ten  or  for  twelve  years ; 
perhaps,  too,  it  was  desired  to  solve  another  difficulty — 
viz.,  whether  sur.  xcvi.  or  sur.  Ixxiv.  was  the  beginning 
of  the  revelation — in  a  sense  that  should  do  some  justice  to 
the  rival  claims  of  each.-  The  tradition  may  also  have 
been  influenced  by  the  circumstance  that  Mohammed,  in 
the  first  three  years  of  his  mission,'  did  not  appear  as  a 
public  preacher,^  but  only  sought  recruits  for  his  owii  cause 
and  the  cause  of  All.'di  in  private  circles.  First,  he  gained 
the  inmates  of  Iris  own  house, — his  wife  Khadija,  his  xreed- 

>  11.  Dodwell,  "  De  Tabulis  colli,"  in  Fabricius,  Corf,  psetid.  V.  T., 
2d  cd.,  ii.  651  sq.  Compare,  in  the  Koran,  especi.illy  sur.  IxJtxvii.  6, 
"We  will  cause  thee  so  to  read  that  tliou  inaycst  forget  nothing  save 
•what  God  mil."  The  following  progress  is  noteworthy  : — Isaiah's  lips 
arc  touched  to  purge  them  of  sin  (Isa.  vi.  7);  Jeicmiah's  are  touched 
hy  the  Lord  to  put  His  word  in  his  mouth  (Jer.  i.  9)  ;  Ezckiel  receives 
the  revelation  as  a  roll  of  a  hook  which  he  lias  to  swallow  ( Ezck.  iii.  2). 

=  See  Sprcnger  in  Z.D.M.O.,  1859,  p.  173  sq.;  Noldeko,  op.  cIL, 
67  sq.  Ewald  thinks  that  the  vocatives  at  the  beginning  of  sur.  lixiv. 
and  Ixxili.  mean  simply — 0  long  sleeper !  Tliis  view  is  worthy  of 
consideration.  Tlie  Moslem  cxcgetes  thoroughly  understand  the  art 
of  giving  to  general  expressions  of  the  Koran  B])ecilic  reference  to 
historical  events  wluch  they  have  themselves  invented  to  facilitate 
'6XC£C3is.  *  Ihu  Hishani,  p.  160. 


man  TaxH  b.  Haritba,  his  cousin  'Ali  (of  who.se  nurture  he  First 
had  relieved  Abii  Tdlib,  a  poor  man  with  many  children),  <-onvert»- 
and   finally  his   dearest  friend  Abiibekr   b.  Abi  KohAfa.  ' 
The  last  named  won   for  him   several  other  adherents : 
'OthmAn  b.  'AffAn,  Zobair  b.  al-'Aww4m,  'Abd  al-Puilmian 
b.  "Auf,  Sa'd  b.  Abi  WakfeAs,  Talha  b.  "Obaid  AUAh,  aU 
names  of  note  in  the  subsequent  history  of  Islam.     Soon 
there  was  a  little  community  formed,  whose  members  united 
in  common  exercises  of  prayer. 

To  the  Hanff.s,  especially  to  the  family  of  Zaid  b.  'Amr, ' 
their  relation  was  friendly ;  they  had  the  name  of  iloslem 
in  common,  and  there  was  hardly  any  difference  of  prin- 
ciple to  separate  them.  The  personality  of  the  prophet 
had  given  an  altogether  new  impulse  to  a  movement  already 
in  existence  ;  that  was  aU.  To  found  a  new  religion  was 
in  no  sense  Mohammed's  intention ;  what  he  sought  was 
to  secure  among  his  people  the  recognition  of  the  old  and 
the  true.  He  preached  it  to  the  Arabs  as  Moses  had  before 
him  preached  to  the  Je^s,  and  Jesus  to  Christians;  itwaa 
all  one  and  the  same  religion  as  written  in  the  heavenly 
book.  The  differences  between  the  several  religions  of  the 
book  were  not  perceived  by  him  till  a  much  later  period. 

It  is  not  difficult  to  understand  why  Mohammed  should 
in  the  first  instance  have  turned-  to  those  who  were  most 
readily  accessible  to  him ;  but  the  nature  of  his  mission  did 
not  stiffer  him  to  rest  content  with  this ;  it  compelled  him 
to  make  public  proclamation  of  the  truth.  One  of  hi:J 
dependents,  Arkam  b.  Abi  Arkam,  offered  for  this  purpose 
his  house,  which  stood  close  by  the  sanctuary,  and  thus  the 
Moslems  obtained  a  convenient  meeting-place  within  the 
town,  instead  of,  as  hitherto,  being  compelled  to  resort  to 
ravines  and  solitary  places.^  Here  Mohammed  preached, 
and  here  too  it  was  that  he  received  some  converts  to 
Islam.  But  he  did  not'bbtain  any  great  results  among  the 
Meccans.  'WTiat  he  had  to  say  was  already  in  substance 
familiar  to  them ;  all  that  was  new  was  the  enthusiasm 
with  which  he  proclaimed  old  truth.  But  this  enthusiasm 
failed  to  make  any  impression  on  them  ;  they  set  him  aside 
as  a  visionary,  or  as  a  poet,  or  simply  as  one  possessed. 
In  their  eyes  it  was  a  fatal  flaw  that  his  supporters  were 
drawn  from  the  slave-class  and  the  lower  orders,  and  the 
ranks  of  the  young ;  it  would  have  been  quite  another 
matter  if  one  of  the  rulers  or  elders  had  beUeved  in  him. 
This  circumstance  was  a  source  of  annoyance  to  the  pro- 
phet himself ;  in  sur.  Ixxx.  we  find  him  rebuked  by  God 
for  having  repulsed  in  an  imkind  way  a  blind  beggar  who 
had  interrupted  him  as  he  was  endeavouring  to  win  over  a, 
man  of  influence — an  endeavour  which  proved  of  no  avail. 

This  indifference  of  the  Meccans  embittered  the  mes- 
senger of  God,  and  led  him  to  give  to  his  preaching  a 
polemical  character  which  it  had  not  hithcno  possessed. 
In  the  oldest  suras  we  have  monotheism  in  its  positive  and 
practical  form.'  God  is  the  all-powerful  Lord  and  all-know- 
ing Judge  of  man  ;  ho  demands  loyal  self-surrender  and 
unconditional  obedience ;  the  service  he  requires  is  a  serious 
life,  characterized  in  particular  by  prayer,  almsgiving,  and 
temperance.  That  the  worship  of  other  gods  beside  AUAh 
is  excluded  by  these  views,  goes  without  saying ;  still  it  i« 


*  It  does  not  apjwar  that  Arkam 's  house  was  of  the  nature  of  an 
asylum  to  which  Mohammed  betook  himself  for  refuge  from  the  ill* 
treatment  to  which  ho  was  subjected  in  his  own  home,  nor  is  tlierfl 
any  evidence  that  ho  ever  lived  m  it.  It  w,is  simply  the  meeting- 
house of  the  oldest  Islam.  Prayer  continued  to  bo  olTered  within  it 
until  the  conversion  of  'Omar,  who  was  hold  enough  to  choose  thq 
Ka'ba  itself,  the  centre  of  heathenism,  as  the  Moslem  place  of  prayer, 
Comp.  Muir,  ii.  p.  117  ;  Sprcnger,  i.  p.  434. 

'  V.nmt  is  meant  by  practical  monotheism  is  most  easily  understood 
by  reference  to  Matt  vi.  24  sqq.^  x.  28  sqq.,  and  to  Luther's  exposi- 
tion of  the  first  commandment  in  the  catechisms  ;  it  is  the  essence  of 
religion.  We  do  not,  of  course,  mean  that  this  practical  monotheism 
is  expressed  in  the  Koran  with  as  mucli  purity  and  depth  as  in  tli« 
GospcL 


■ilOHAJXilED.] 


MOHAMMEDANISM 


549 


noteworthy  that  the  chp.i-p  Bc^ations  of  monotheism  ac- 
quired prominence  only  by  degrees.  It  was  in  his  indig- 
nation against  the  cold  mockery  with  which  he  was  met 
that  Mohammed  first  assumed  an  attitude  of  hostility 
towards  the  worship  of  polytheism,  while  at  the  same  time 
he  gave  much  greater  prominence  to  his  own  mission,  just 
because  it  was  not  acknowledged.  He  now  began  to 
threaten  the  infidels  with  the  judgment  of  God  for  their 
contempt  of  His  message  and  His  messenger ;  he  related 
to  them  the  terrible  punishments  that  in  other  cases  had 
fallen  on  those  who  refused  to  hear  the  voice  of  their  pro- 
phet, applying  the  old  legends  to  the  circumstances  of  the 
present  with  suth  directness  that  it  was  superfluous  ex- 
Hostilitj-  pressly  to  add  the  morals.  This  could  not  fail  to  irritate 
of  the  tlie  Meccans,  especially  as  after  all  the  new  religion  gained 
Meccans.  gro\iud.  What  Mohammed  attacked  as  ungodly  and  abom- 
inable were  their  holy  things ;  they  were  jealous  for  their 
gods  and  their  fathers.  Their  attachment  to  the  tradi- 
tional worship  was  the  greater  that  the  prosperity  of  their 
town  rested  upon  it ;  for  they  had  not  yet  learned  that  the 
Ka'ba  was  no  institution  of  heathenism.  They  found,  how- 
ever, no  other  way  to  remo'i'e  the  public  scandal  than  to 
approach  Abii  T41ib,  the  Prophet's  uncle  and  the  head  of 
his  family,  asking  him  to  impose  silence  on  the  offender, 
or  else  to  withdraw  from  him  his  protection.  Ab\i  T^lib 
was  not  personally  convinced  of  Mohammed's  mission,  but 
he  did  not  choose  to  impose  conditions  on  the  enjoyment 
of  his  protection.  -Ait  length,  however,  when  the  Meccans 
adopted  a  threatening  tone  and  said  that  he  must  either 
restrain  his  nephew  from  his  injurious  attacks,  or  openly 
take  side  for  Mohammed  and  against  them,  he  sent  for  his 
nephew,  told  him  how  things  stood,  and  urged  him  not 
to  involve  them  both  in  ruin.  Mohammed  was  deeply 
moved  ;  he  thought  his  uncle  wished  to  get  rid  of  him ;  yet 
he  could  not  and  would  not  withdraw  from  the  divinely- 
imposed  necessity  which  impelled  him  to  preach  his  con- 
victions. "Though  they  gave  me  the  sun  in  my  right 
hand,"  he  said,  "  and  the  moon  in  my  left,  to  bring  me 
back  from  my  undertaking,  yet  will  I  not  pause  till  the 
Lord  carry  my  cause  to  victoi-y,  or  till  I  die  for  it."  AVith 
this  he  burst  into  tears,  and  turned  to  go  away.  But 
Ab\i  TAlib  called  him  back  and  said  :  "  Go  in  peace,  son  of 
my  brother,  and  say  what  thou  wilt,  for,  by  God.  I  will  on 
no  condition  abandon  thee.". 

The  protection  of  his  uncle  did  not  relievo  Mohani'ctied 
from  all 'manner  of  petty  insults  which  he  had  to  endure 
from  his  enemies  from  day  to  day;  but  no  one  ventured  to 
do  him  serious  harm,  for  the  family  feud  which  this  would 
necessarily  have  produced  was  not  to  be  lightly  incurred. 
Less  fortunate  than  the  Prophet,  however,  were  such  of 
his  followers  as  occupied  dependent  positions,  and  had  no 
family  support ;  especially  the  converted  bondmen  and 
bondwomen,  who  found  no  consideration,  and  were  often 
treated  with  actual  cruelty.  For  some  of  these  Abi'ibekr 
purchased  freedom.  There  seem  to  have  been  no  martyrs, 
but  the  situation  of  many  Moslems  became  so  intolerable 
that  they  fled  to  Abyssinia.  The  Abyssinian  Christians 
were  quite  looked  upon  as  their  religious  kinsmen. 
The  torn-  A  breach  \vith  one's  people  is  for  the  Arab  a  breach  with 
por.iry  Gtod  and  the  ■world  ;  he  feels  it  like  a  living  death.  Mo- 
conipro-  iiajnmed,  who  remained  in  Mecca,  naturally  made  every 
efi'ort  to  heal  the  breach  with  his  to^vnsmen,  and,  as  natur- 
ally, the  latter  met  him  half-way.  He  even  went  so  far 
as  to  take  the  edge  from  his  monotheism.  Once,  when 
the  heads  of  the  Koraish  were  assembled  at  the  Ka'ba, 
Mohammed,  we  are  told,  came  to  them  and  began  to  recite 
before  them  sur.  liii.'      When  he  came  to  the  passage, 


^  Tlie  authorities  for  tliis  are  Ibu  Sa'd,  tlie  secretary  of  WakiUi,  to 
■whom  we  owe  the  preservation  of  Wakiili's  materials  for  the  .^reccan 
period,  and  especially  Tahari;  comp.  Muir,  ii.  150  sqq.     Tiie  comninn 


"What  think  ye  of  al-LAt  and  al-'Ozz.d,  and  of  Manit  the 
third  with  them?"  the  devil  put  words  in  his  mouth  which 
he  had  long  wished  to  have  by  revelation  from  God — viz. 
"  These  are  the  sublime  Cranes,^  whose  intercession  may 
be  hoped  for."  The  auditors  were  surprised  and  delighted 
by  this  recognition  of  their  goddesses,  and  when  Mohammed 
closed  the  stira  with  the  words,  "  So  prostrate  yourselves 
before  AlUh  and  do  service  to  him,"  they  all  with  one 
accord  complied.  They  then  professed  their  satisfaction 
with  his  admissions,  and  declared  themselves  ready  to 
recognize  him.  But  the  messenger  of  God  went  home  dis- 
quieted. Li  the  evening  Gabriel  came  to  him,  and  Mo- 
hammed repeated  to  him  the  stira ;  whereupon  the  angei 
said:  "What  hast  thou  done?  thou  hast  spoken  in  the  ears 
of  the  people  words  that  I  never  gave  to  thee."  Mohammed 
now  feU  into  deep  distress,  fearing  to  be  cast  out  from  the 
sight  of  God.  But  the  Lord  took  him  back  to  His  grace 
and  raised  him  up  again.  He  erased  the  diabolical  verse 
and  revealed  the  true  reading,  so  that  the  words  now  ran — 
"  What  think  ye  of  al-LAt  and  al-'Ozzi,  and  of  Man.-it  the 
third  with  them?  The  male  [offspring]  for  you  and  the 
female  for  Gfod  ?  '  That  were  an  unjust  division  ! "  Wheii 
the  new  version  reached  the  ears  of  the  Meccans  they 
compared  it  with  the  old,  and  saw  that  the  Prophet  had 
broken  the  peace  again.  So  their  enmity  broke  out  again 
with  fresh  violence. 

It  is  generally  and  justly  suspected  that  this  compromise 
did  not  rest  on  a  momentary  inspiration  of  Satan,  but  was 
the  result  of  negotiations  and  protracted  consideration. 
Nor  was  the  breach  so  instantaneous  as  is  represented ; 
the  peace  lasted  more  than  one  day.  There  is  no  doubt 
as  to  the  fact  itself.  Every  religion  must  make  compro- 
mises to  gain  the  masses.  But  for  Mohammed  the  moment 
for  this  had  not  yet  arrived  ;  later  on  he  tised  the  method 
of  compromise  with  great  effect. 

The  news  of  the  peace  between  Mohammed  and  the 
Meccans  had  recalled  the  fugitive  Moslems  from  Abyssinia  ;•' 
on  their  return  the  actual  state  of  affairs  proved  very 
different  indeed  from  what  they  had  been  led  to  expert, 
and  it  was  not  long  before  a  second  emigration  took  plai  ■•. 
By  degrees  as  many  as  a  hundred  and  one  Moslems,  mostly 
of  the  younger  men,  in  little  groups,  had  again  migrated 
to  Abyssinia,  where  they  once  more  met  with  a  friendly 
reception.  Among  them  were  Ja'far,  the  brother  of  'Alt, 
and  the  Prophet's  daughter  Rokaj'ya,  along  with  her  hus- 
band 'Othmin  b.  'Affan.* 

Mohammed's  position  was  very  considerably  altered  for 
the  worse,  both  subjectively  and  in  other  respects,  by  his 
precipitate  withdrawal  from  the  compromise  almost  as  soon 
as  it  had  been  made.  He  himself  indeed,  although  long 
and  salutarily  humbled  by  the  remembrance  of  his  fall 
(sur.  xvii.  75  sqq.),  never  abandoned  faith  in  his  vocation  ; 
his  followers  also  did  not  permit  themselves  to  be  led 


tradition  ignores  the  fact  itself,  Init  knows  it5  i-esult,  the  retnru  of  the 
Abyssinian  fngitives. 

=  " Al-gharHnlk  al-'M"  fino-soundiiig  but  perliap.i  meaningless 
words—  „  jjcrrlicli,  et^-as  donkel  zwor. 

DocU  es  kliiigt  reclit  wunderbar." 
Comp.  Ndldcke,  op.  cit.,  p.  80.     Hobal,  thoiiK'i  the  chief  god  of  the 
Meccans,  is  not  mentioned  in  the   Koran  cither  Iierc  or  elsewhere. 
Perhaps  as  God  of  the  Ka'ba  he  w.is  already  identified  with  Allah  by 
the  Meccans,  or  was  so  identified  by  Mohammed. 

'  The  date  assigned  is  the  month  Rajab  of  the  fifth  year  of  the  Call, 
corresponding  to  the  eighth  ye.ar  before  the  Flight  (a.d.  814-615). 
The  compromise  must  have  been  made  in  the  interv.al.  The  chronology 
of  this  period  is  of  course  in  the  highest  degree  uncertain,  and  the 
order  of  the  events  hard  to  ascertain.  Thus  it  can  srarcely  be  deter- 
mined whether  the  above-mentioned  scene  with  Abu  "Talib  ought  to  be 
placed  before  or  after  the  compromise. 

*  'Othmiln  and  Eokayya,  hwcvcr,  members  of  the  noble  house  of 
Omayya,  soon  returned,  along  with  many  othi  rs.  TIic  rest  remained 
in  exile  until  the  seventh  year  of  the  Flight. 


650 


MOHAMMEDANISM 


[moha^oikd. 


away.  But  thb  M^ccans,  from  the  way  in'which  he  .had 
at  first  given  out  a  verse  as  God's  word  and  afterwards 
withdrawn  it  as  a  suggestioH  of  Satan,  did  not  hesitate  to 
draw  the  inference  that  the  whcile  of  his  boasted  revelation 
was  nothing  but  a  manifest  imposture.  To  their  cold  and 
unfeeling  logic  the  Prophet  had  nothing  to  oppose  save 
passionate  assurances. 
VTaniM  Fortunately  for  the  Moslems,  precisely  at  this  juncture, 
aud  when  matters  were  assuming  so  gloomy  an  aspect  for  their 
Oinor.  little  company,  two  conversions  took  place,  which  were  well 
fitted  to  revive  their  coiurage.  ISIohammed's  uncle,  Hamza 
b.  'Abdalmottalib,  felt  his  family  pride  wounded  by  the 
injurious  treatment  which  the  former  had  received  from 
Abu  Jahl,  head  of  the  great  and  wealthy  family  of  the 
Banii  Makhziim,  and  in  order  to  become  publicly  his 
champion,  he  adopted  Islam.  Of  touch  more  importance 
still  was  the  conversion  in  the  same  year  (the  sixth  of  the 
Call)  of  "Omar  b.  al-KhatUb.  'Omar  was  then  only  twenty- 
six  j'cars  of  age,  and  neither  rich  nor  noble ;  but  his  im- 
posing figure  and  his  unbending  strength  of  will  gave  him 
a  personal  influence,  which  immediately  made  itself  felt  in 
a  very  marked  manner  in  favour  of  Islam.  Until  now  its 
religious  gatherings  had  taken  place  privately,  especially 
in  the  house  of  Arkam  ;  but  'Omar  offered  his  prayers  at 
the  Ka'ba  as  publicly  as  possible,  and  his  example  was 
followed  by  the  other  Moslems.  Their  religious  exercises 
were  no  longer  gone  about  in  secret,  but  ostentatiously 
and  before  the  eyes  of  all. 

So  far  as  can  be  gathered,  it  was  at  this  time  that  the 
opposition  between  Mohammed  and  his  townsmen  r6ached 
its  highest  pitch.  The  feeling  that  he  had  somewhat 
committed  himself  embittered  him ;  he  was  determined  to 
atone  for  his  previous  concessions  to  polytheism  by  un- 
compromising polemic  against  it.  A  personal  element, 
which  had  lurked  from  the  first  in  the  war  of  principles, 
became  by  degrees  increasingly  dominant.  The  idols  were 
less  displeasing  to  Allih  than  the  idolaters ;  his  own  wor- 
ship was  a  matter  of  less  concern  to  him  than  the  recogni- 
tion of  his  messenger.  With  ever-increasing  distinctness 
the  prophetic  utterances  came  to  be  mere  words  of  threaten- 
ing and  rebuke  against  the  Meccans;  it  was  impossible 
not  to  recognize  in  Noah  and  Moses  or  Abraham  the  pro- 
phet himself.  The  coming  judgment  upon  Mecca,  and  the 
hour  of  it,  were  either  in  plain  words  or  veiled  allusion 
the  continual  theme  of  the  "  admonisher ; "  but  the  oftener 
and  the  more  urgently  it  was  repeated,  the  less  vras  the 
impression  it  produced.  The  Meccans  did  not,  on  the 
whole,  suffer  themselves  to  be  much  disturbed  by  the  pro- 
spect of  the  terrible  overthrow  which  was  portrayed  before 
them  in  vivid  colours.  They  were  even  profane  enough 
to  express  a  desire  to  see  the  long-threatened  catastrophe 
arrive  at  last,  and  their  audacity  went  so  far  as  to  complain 
of  the  revelations  with  which  Mohammed  sought  to  stir 
their  feelings  as  being  tedious.^  They  did  not  in  the  least 
believe  that  the  Biblical  narratives,  which  he  related  with 
special  pride,  were  known  to  him  by  revelation ;  on  the 
contrary,  they  pretended  to  know  perfectly  well  the  human 
source  from  which  he  had  derived  them  (sur.  xvi.  105  ; 
XXV.  5;  xliv.  1.3).  It  is  very  interesting  to  find  Mohammed 
in  presence  of  their  unbelief  referring  to  the  recognition 
and  approval  mth  which  he  met  among  the  children  of 
Israel  (sur.  vi.  114;  x.  94;  xiii.  36  sqq.;  xvii.  108;  xxviii. 
52  sq.;  xxxiv.  6),  and  particularly  to  find  him  appealing 
to  the  testimony  of  a  certain  Jew,  whom  he  does  not  name 
(sur.  xlvi.  9  sqq.)  Manifestly  he  had  relations  with  .Jews 
at  this  period,  and  was  under  their  influence ;  and  from 
them,  of  course,  it  was  that  the  material  of  his  Old  Testa- 
ment and  Haggadistic  narratives  was  derived.      At  the 


'  Ibn  Hisbira,  pp.  191,  235  54. 


same  time  it  is  clear  that  he  himself  must  have  believni 
these  to  have  come  directly  to  him  in  a  second  revelatiua 
from  above,  otherwise  he  v/ould  hardly  have  taken  his' 
stand  in  the  presence  of  his  opponents  upon  the  testimony 
of  the  Jews.  Such  a  self-deception  seems  indeed  hardly 
credible  to  us,  but  it  is  impossible  to  impute  to  the  Arab 
prjphet  too  complete  an  absence  of  the  critical  faculty. 

The  KoraLsh  at  last  lost  all  patience.  Their  heads  The  In- 
entered  into  a  solemn  compact  to  break  off  all  intercoiu-.'-.e  tcdict. 
with  the  Hashimids,  as  they  declined  to  separate  them- 
selves from  Mohammed.  The  Hashimids  submitted  to 
the  interdict  for  the  sake  of  their  relative,  although  for 
the  most  part  they  were  not  believers  on  him.  Along 
with  the  Banii  '1-Mottalib  they  withdrew  into  the  separate 
quarter  of  their  chief,  into  the  so-caUed  Shi'b  Abi  Tilib ; 
one  only  of  their  number,  Abti  Lahab,  separated  himself 
from  them,  and  made  common  cause  with  the  Meccans. 
All  buying  and  seUing  with  the  excommunicated  persons 
being  forbidden,  these  found  themselves  reduced  occasion- 
aDy  to  outward  distress,  as  well  as  excluded  frcsa  all 
fellowship.  This  treatment,  although  apparently  jiever 
carried  out  with  absolute  strictness,  did  not  fail  of  its 
effect.  The  Prophet's  more  remotely  attached  adherents 
fell  away  from  him,  and  his  efforts  for  the  spread  of  Islam 
were  crippled.  All  he  could  do  was  to.  encourage  those 
who  remained  faithful,  and  to  set  himself  to  seek  the  con- 
version of  his  relations. 

This  state  of  matters,  after  continuing  for  from  two  to 
three  years,  at  last  became  intolerable  to  the  Meccans 
themselves,  who  had  a  variety  of  relations  with  the  ex- 
communicated family.  In  the  tenth  year  of  the  Call  (a.d. 
619-620)  five  of  the  leading  citizens  paid  a  visit  to  the 
Shi'b  Abl  X^lib  and  induced  the  Banil  HAshim  and  al- 
Mottalib  to  come  out  of  their  retirement  and  again  appear 
among  their  fellow-citizens.  The  rest  of  the  Koraish  were 
taken  by  surprise,  and  did  not  ventiu-e,  by  setting  them- 
selves against  the  fait  accompli,  to  run  the  risk  of  what 
might  have  become  a  dangerous  breach.  The  story  goes 
that  a  lucky  accident  released  them  from  the  solemn  oath 
under  which  they  had  laid  themselves  with  reference  to  the 
Banii  HAshim — the  mice  had  destroyed  the  document, 
hung  up  in  the  Ka'ba,  on  which  it  was  recorded. 

Mohammed  was  now  free  once  more  ;  but  he  no  longer  IT:*  Pro; 
thought  of  carrj'ing  on  his  polemic  against  the  Meccans  orP*"'' 
of  seeking  to  influence  them  at  all.  In  his  relations  to  ^J[ 
them  three  stadia  can  be  distinguished,  although  it  is  easier 
to  determine  their  character  than  their  chronology.  In 
the  first  instance,  his  endeavour  was  to  propitiate  them 
and  win  them  over  to  his  side  ;  when  other  methods  failed, 
he  even  went  so  far  as  to  make  complimentary  mention  o€ 
their  goddesses  in  one  of  his  revelations,  and  thus  to  set 
up  a  compromise  with  heathenism.  When  this  compromise 
failed,  he  forthwith  commenced  an  embittered  assault  upon 
the  idolaters,  which  ended  in  the  outlawry  of  himself  and 
of  his  family.  And  now,  the  ban  having  been  removed, 
he  gave  the  Meccans  up,  abandoning  them  to  their  hard- 
ness of  heart.  It  had  become  clear  to  him  that  in  his 
native  town  Islam  was  to  make  no  progress,  and  that  his 
position  was  untenable.  His  feeling  of  separation  was  in- 
creased all  the  more  ivith  the  death  of  his  faithful  Khadija 
about  this  time,  followed  soon  afterwards  by  that  of  Abti 
Talib,  his  noble  protector.  He  accordingly  came  to  the 
determination  to  take  his  chance  in  the  neighbouring  T^if,  Visit 
and  set  out  thither  alone.  On  his  arrival  he  asked  theT»'^ 
heads  of  the  town  whether  they  would  be  willing  to  receive 
him  and  protect  the  free  proclamation  of  his  doctrines. 
He  was  answered  in  the  negative ;  the  mob  drove  him  out 
of  the  town,  a^d  pursued  him  until  he  found  refuge  in  a 
vineyard,  the  property  of  two  noble  Meccans.  In  the 
deepest  despondency  ho  again  took  the  homeward  road. 


'MOBAMMEO.'I 


MOHAMMEDANISM 


551 


Tradition  has  it  that  he  found  comfort  in  the  fact  that  at 
I'^ast  the  Jinns  listened  to  him  as  by  the  way  he  chanted 
the  Koran  in  the  sacred  grove  of  Nakhla.'  In  the  present 
circuiastances  it  was  now  impossible  for  him  to  return  into 
the  town,  after  having  openly  announced  his  intention  of 
breaking  with  it  and  joining  another  community.  He  did 
not  venture  to  do  so  until,  after  lengthened  negotiations, 
he  had  assured  himself  of  the  protection  of  a  leading  citizen, 
Mot'im  b.  "Adt  Notwithstanding  all  that  had  happened, 
he  resolved,  two  months  after  the  death  of  Khadfja,  to  enter 
upon  a  second  marriage  with  Sauda  bint  Zam'a,  the  widow 
of  an  Abyssinian  emigrant. 

Chance  scon  afterwards  brought  to  pass  what  fore- 
thought (on  his  journey  to  T^if)  had  failed  to  accomplish. 
After  having  given  up  the  Meccans,  Mohammed  was  wont 
to  seek  interviews  with  the  Arabs  who  came  to  Mecca, 
Majanna,  Dh\i  '1-MajAz,  and  'Ok4z,  for  the  purpose  of  taking 
part  in  the  feasts  and  fairs,  and  to  preach  to  them.'  On 
one  such  occasion,  in  the  third  year  before  the  Flight 
The  men  (a.d.  619-620),  he  fell  in  with  a  small  company  of  citizens 
of  Me-  of  Medina,  who  to  his  delight  did  not  ridicule  him,  as  was 
^*-  usually  the  case,  but  showed  both  aptness  to  understand 
and  willingness  to  receive  his  doctrines.  For  this  they 
had  been  previously  prepared,  alike  by  their  daily  inter- 
coiirse  with  the  numerous  Jews  who  lived  in  confederation 
with  them  in  their  town  and  neighbourhood,  and  by  the 
connections  which  they  had  with  the  Nabatseans  and 
Christian  Arabs  of  the  north.  Hanifitism  was  remarkably 
■widely  diffused  among  them,  and  at  the  same  time  there 
•were  movements  of  expectation  of  a  new  religion,  perhaps 
even  of  an  Arabian  Messiah,  who  should  found  it.  Medina 
was  the  proper  soil  for  Mohammed's  activity.  It  is  singular 
that  he  owed  such  a  discovery  to  accident.  He  entered 
into  closer  relations  with  the  pilgrims  who  had  come  from 
thepce,  and  asked  them  to  try  to  find  out  whether  there 
was  any  likelihood  of  his  being  received  in  their  town. 
They  promised  to  do  so,  and  to  let  him  hear  from  them  in 
the  following  year. 

At  the  pilgrim  feast  of  next  year,  accordingly,  twelve 
citizens  of  Medina  had  a  meeting  with  Mohammed,'  and 
gave  him  their  pledge  to  have  no  god  but  AH&h,  to  with- 
hold their  hands  from  what  was  not  their  own,  to  flee  for- 
nication, not  to  kill  new-bom  infants,  to  shun  slander,  afd 
to  obey  God's  messenger  as  far  as  was  fairly  to  be  asked,* 
Fi«t       This  is  the  so-called  First  Homage  on  the  'Akaba.*     The 
Homnge  twelve  men  now  returned,  as  propagandists  of  Islam,  to 
"\kaba.    '^^''^  homes  with  the  injunction  to  let  their  master  hear 
of  the  success  of  their  efforts  at  the  same  place  on  the 
following  year.     One  of  the  Meccan  Moslems,  Mos'ab  b. 
'Omair,  was  sent  along  with  or  after  them,  in  order  to  teach 
the  people  of  Medina  to  read  the  Koran,  and  instruct  them 
in  the  doctrines  and  practices  of  Islam. 

Islam  spread  very  quickly  on  the  new  soil.  It  is  easy 
to  understand  how  his  joy  strengthened  the  Prophet's 
spirit  to  try  a  higher  flight.  As  a  symptom  of  his  exalted 
frame  we  might  well  regard  his  famous  night-journey  to 
Jerusalem  (sur.  xvii.  1  ;  vi.  2),  if  we  could  be  sure  that  it 


■  Sur.  idvi.  28  ;  liidL  1.  On  tUe  impossibility  of  historically  fining 
the  date  of  this  occurrence  see  Noldeke,  op.  cit.,  p.  101. 

'  Muir  (ii.  181  s;.)  assumes,  with  good  reason,  that  he  had  already 
done  so  during  the  time  when  he  was  living  in  the  Shi'b  Abi  Tdlib, 
and  assigns  to  this  period  the  story  that  Abii  Lahab  followed  liim  in 
this  in, order  to  counteract  his  preaching,  and  sow  tares  among  the 
wheat. 

*  Sprenger  (ii.  526)  identifies  this  meeting  with  the  first,  which  tra- 
dition  distinguishes  from  it  and  places  a  year  earlier.     He  is  probably 

'right 

*  Afterwards  this  was  called  the  women's  oath.  It  is  a  noteworthy 
summary  of  the  features  by  which  Islam  is  distinguished  from 
heathenism. 

*  On  the  'Akaba  compare  Vakidi,  pp.  417,  427,  429.  It  ww  s 
tatioa  between  'Arafa  and  Mind. 


belonged  to  thi.i  period.'  The  prophecy  also  of  the  final 
triumph  of  the  Romans  over  the  Persians  (contained  iu 
sur.  XXX.  1  sqt].)  might  very  well  pass  for  an  expression  of 
his  own  assurance  of  victory,  as  at  that  time  he  still  had  a 
feeling  of  solidarity  with  the  Christians.  But  the  prophecy 
(the  only  one  contained  in  the  Koran)  belongs,  it  would 
appear,  to  a  much  earlier  date.'' 

At  the  Meccan  festival  of  the  last  year  before  the  Flight 
(in  March  622)  there  presented  themselves  among  the  pil- 
grims from  Medina  seventy-three  men  and  two  women  who 
had  been  converted  to  Islam.  In  the  night  after  the  day  of 
the  sacrifice  (hey  again  had  an  interview  with  the  Projiliet 
on  the  "Akaba  ;  AJ-' Abbas,  his  uncle,  who  after  Abi\  fdlib's 
death  had  become  head  of  the  Banii  HAshim,  wa-s  also  Second 
present.  This  is  the  so-called  Second  Homage  on  the  Homagt 
"Akaba,  at  which  Mohammed's  emigration  to  Medina  was 
definitely  settled.  Al-'Abbis  solemnly  transfentd  his 
nephew  from  under  his  own  protection  to  that  of  the  mtn 
froin  Medina,  after  these  had  promised  a  faithful  dischargo 
of  the  duties  this  involved.  'They  swore  to  the  Prophet  to 
guard  him  against  all  that  they  guarded  their  wi\  cs  and 
children  from.  He,  on  the  other  hand,  promised  thence 
forward  to  consider  himself  wholly  as  one  of  themselves, 
and  to  adhere  to  their  society.  According  to  the  tradition 
this  remarkable  scene  was  brought  to  a  close  by  a  sudden 
noise. 

The  Meccans  soon  got  wind  of  the  affair,  notwithstand- 
ing the  secrecy  with  which  it  had  been  gone  about,  but 
Ibn  Obay,  the  leader  of  the  Medina  pilgrim  caravan,  whom 
they  questioned  next  morning,  was  able  wth  good  con- 
science to  declare  that  he  knew  nothing  at  all  about  it,  as, 
being  still  a  heathen,  he  had  not  been  taken  into  the  con- 
fidence of  his  Moslem  comrades,  and  he  had  not  ob.«erved 
their  absence  over  night.  The  Meccans  did  not  gain 
certainty  as  to  what  had  occurred,  until  the  men  of  Medina 
had  left.  They  set  out  after  them,  but  by  this  they  gained 
nothing.  They  next  tried,  it  Ls  said,  violently  to  jirevent 
their  own  Moslems  from  migrating.  After  a  con.-'idei-able 
pause,  they  renewed  the  persecution  of  the  adherents  of 
the  Prophet,  compelling  some  to  apostasy,  and  shutting  up 
others  in  prison.  But  the  measures  they  adopted  were  in 
no  case  effective,  and  at  best  served  only  to  precipitate  the 
crisis.  A  few  days  after  the  homage  on  the  'Akaba, 
Mohammed  issued  to  his  followers  the  formal  command  to 
emigrate.  In  the  first  month  of  the  first  year  of  the  The  emi- 
Flight  (April  622)  the  emigration  began ;  within  two  eration. 
months  some  150  persons  had  reached  Medina.  Apart 
from  slaves,  only  a  few  were  kept  behind  in  Mecca.* 

Mohammed  himself  remained  to  the  last  in  Mecca,  in  the 
company  of  Abiibekr  and  'All.  His  reason  for  doing  so  is 
as  obscure  as  the  cause  of  his  sudden  flight.  The  explana- 
tion offered  of  the  latter  is  a  plan  laid  by  the  Meccans  for 
his  assassination,  in  consequence  of  which  he  secretly 
withdrew  along  with  Abtlbekr.  For  two  or  three  days  the 
two  friends  hid  themselves  in  a  cave  of  Mount  "Thanr, 
south  from  Mecca,  till  the  pursuit  should  have  passed 
over  (sur.  ix.  40).  They  then  took  the  northward  road 
and  arrived  safely  in  Medina  on  the  12th  of  Eabf  of  the 
first  year  of  the  Flight.'     Meanwhile,  'AH  remained  three 


■  See  Muir,  ii.  219  sqq.  ;  Sprenger,  ii.  527  sqq- ;  and  on  the  other 
side,  Noldeke,  Koran,  p.  102.  The  masrH  was  afterwards  called 
mir&j  (ascension),  and,  originally  represented  as  a  \ision,  came  to  bo 
regarded  as  an  objective  though  instantaneous  occurrence. 

'  See  on  the  one  hand  Muir  (ii.  223  sqq.)  and  Sprenger  (ii.  527  SJ7.), 
and  on  the  other  Noldeke  (Qoran,  p,  102;  Taburi,  p.  298).  The 
manner  in  which  Sprenger  seeks  to  make  the  prophecy  a  vaticlnium  ex 
evcntu  is  unfair, 

^  Ibn  Bisham,  pp.  315  sq.,  319  sq. 

'  The  12th  of  Rabi'  is,  according  to  tradition,  the  Prophet's  birth- 
day, the  day  of  his  arrival  in  Sledina,  and  the  day  of  his  death.  It 
is  certain  that  he  died  at  mid-day  on  Monday  tlia  12th  of  Babf,  but 


552 


days  longer  in  Mecca,  for  the  purpose,  it  is  alleged,  of 
restoring  to  its  owners  all  the  property  which  had  been 
entrusted  for  safe  keeping  to  the  Prophet.  The  Koraish 
left  him  entirely  unmolested,  and  threw  no  obstacle  in  the 
way  when  at  last  he  also  took  his  departure. 
.  With  the  Flight  to  Sledina  a  new  period  in  the  life  of 
the  Prophet  begins ;  seldom  does  so  great  a  revolution 
occur  in  the  cii-cmnstances  of  any  man.  Had  he  remained 
in  Mecca  he  would  in  the  best,  event  have  died  for  his 
doctrine,  and  its  triumph  would  not  have  come  until  after 
his  death.  The  Flight  brought  it  about  that  he,  the 
founder  of  a  new  religion,  lived  also  to  see  its  complete 
victory, — that  in  his  case  was  united  all  that  in  Christen- 
dom is  separated  by  the  enormous  interval  between  Christ 
and  Constantine.  Ho  knew  how  to  utilize  Islam  as  the 
means  of  founding  the  Arabian  commonwealth  ;  hence  the 
rapidity  of  its  success.  That  this  was  of  no  advantage  for 
the  religion  is  easily  understood.  It  soon  lost  the  ideality 
of  its  beginnings,  for  almost  from  the  first  it  became 
mixed  up  with  the  dross  of  practical  considerations.  In 
reaching  its  goal  so  soon  its  capability  of  development  was 
checked  for  all  time  to  come ;  in  every  essential  feature  it 
received  from  Mohammed  the  shape  which  it  has  ever 
since  retained.  It  onght  not,  however,  to  be  overlooked 
that  the  want  of  ideality  and  spiritual  fmitfulness  was 
partly  due  to  its  Arabian  origin. 

Mohammtd  in  the  first  instance  took  up  his  quarters  in 
the  outlying  village  of  KobA,  where  several  of  his  most 
zealous  adherents  had  their  homes,  and  had  already  built 
a  mosque.  It  was  not  until  after  some  days  had  passed, 
and  he  had  made  himself  sure  of  the  best  reception,  that 
he  removed  to  the  city  itself,  which  at  that  time  bore  the 
name  of  Yathrib.  All  were  anxious  to  have  him ;  in  order 
that  none  might  feel  themselves  slighted,  he  left  the  de- 
cision to  the  camel  (al-Kaswa)  on  which  he  rode.  It 
knelt  down  in  an  open  space  in  the  quarter  of  the  Bauii 
NajjAr,  which  he  accordingly  selected  as  the  site  of  the 
mosque  and  of  his  own  house.  At  first  he  took  quarters 
for  seven  months  in  the  house  of  Abii  Ayyi5b ;  within  this 
interval  the  juosque  was  finished,  which  was  to  serve  at 
once  as  the  place  of  religious  gatherings  and  as  the  com- 
mon hall.  Close  to  it  was  the  Prophet's  pi'ivate  dwelling, 
consisting  of  the  huts  of  his  wives,  in  one  or  other  of 
which  he  lived.  At  that  time  he  had  only  one  wife,  the 
Sauda  already  mentioned ;  but  soon  he  married,  in  addi- 
tion, the  youthful  'Aisha,  the  daughter  of  his  friend 
Abubekr,  who  acquired  great  influence  over  him.  Some 
of  the  leading  emigrants  built  houses  in  the  same  neigh- 
bourhood, while  the  test  continued  to  be  quartered  with 
the  jicople  of  Medina. 

]\Iedina  is  situated  on  a  westward  spur  of  the  Arabian 
tableland,  on  the  Wadi  KanAt.  It  is  an  oasis  amongst 
barren  rocks,  mostly  of  volcanic  origin.  The  inhabitants 
su]iported  themselves  by  their  date  palms  and  by  the  field 
and  garden  fruits  tliat  grew  under  their  shadow  ;  they  had 
thtlr  homes  partly  in  the  town  itself  and  partly  in  the 
suburbs  and  outlying  villages.  At  one  time  the  oasis  had 
belonged  to  the  Jews,  as  the  similar  oases  to  the  north 
still  did— Wadi  'l-Kori,  Khaibar,  Fadak,  Taimi.  But 
some  centuries  befoic  Mohammed's  time,  Arabs  of  Yemen, 
the  Banii  Kaila,  had  immigrated  and  partially  driven  the 
Jews  away.  Many  Jews,  however,  still  continued  to  live 
there,  partly  scattered  among  the  Arab  tribes  and  under 
their  protection,  partly  also  in  independent  communities 
such  as  the  KainokA,  the  Nadir,  and  the  Koraiza.  For 
them  it  was  a  great  advantage  that  the  Arabs  were  not 
agreed  among  themselves.     The  Banil  Kaila  were  divided 


MOHAMMEDANISM 


[MOHAJtirXD. 


'  the  olliftr  xtttfrneiils  Are  all  tlio  mope  suspicions  because  tliey  also 
•peal!  of  Monday  aud  mid-day.     Comp.  Niildclic,  Qoran,  p.  69  tj. 


into  two  branches,  the  Aus  and  the  Khazraj,  who  were  Acs  md 
constantly  at  daggers  drawn.  The  mutual  hate  which  Khunj. 
burned  within  them,  from  time  to  time  manifested  itself  in 
murder  and  assassination,  if  by  any  ahance  one  of  the  Au3 
had  wandered  into  a  Kliazrajite  quarter,  or  wee  versd. 
Shortly  before  the  arrival  of  Mohammed,  the  battle  of 
Bo'Ath  had  taken  place  within  the  liberties  of  Medina,  in 
which  theAusJ  with  the  help  of  their  Jewish  allies,  had 
vanquished  the  IChazraj  and  broken  their  preponderance. 
The  Khazraj  were  the  more  numerous  and  powerful,  and 
seem  to  have  been  on  the  point  of  making  their  leading 
man,  Ibn  Obay,  the  king  of  Medina;  by  the  battle  of 
Bo'dth  the  balance  of  parties — and  anarchy — was  pro- 
served  in  the  interests  of  a  third,  who  came  in  at  the  right 
moment  to  settle  these  <'»rible  and  exhausting  feuds  and 
restore  order. 

The  circumstances  were  singularly  fitted  to  change  the  5io»«ni- 
religious  influence  which  Mohammed  brought  along  with  '"«<''»  1» 
him  into  another  of  a  political  character,  and  from  being  a  •.\"'™."** 
prophet  to  make  him  the  founder  of  a  commonwealth.  The  '  '  """ 
Arabs  had  hitherto  been  accustomed  to  lay  before  their 
Kihins,  or  priestly  seers,  at  the  sanctuaries,  for  decision  in 
God's  name,  all  sorts  of  disputes  and  hard  questions  which 
ordinary  means  were  inadequate  to  decide.  The  religious 
prestige  which  Mohammed  enjoyed  led  directly  to  his 
being  frequently  called  in  as  ad-viser  and  judge.  In 
Medina  quarrels  and  complications  were  abundant,  and  an 
authority  to  stand  over  both  parties  was  much  needed. 
Mohammed  met  this  need  in  the  manner  which  was  most 
acceptable  to  the  Arabs ;  the  authority  he  exercised  did 
not  rest  upon  force,  but  upon  such  a  vohuitary  recognition 
of  the  judgment  of  God  as  no  one  had  any  need  to  be 
ashamed  of.'  In  principle,  it  was  the  same  kind  of  judicial 
and  public  influence  as  had  been  possessed  by  the  old 
KAhins,  but  its  strength  was  much  greater.  This  arose 
not  only  from  the  peculiarly  favourable  circumstances,  but 
above  aU  from  Mohammed's  own  personality.  It  is  im- 
possible to  understand  the  history  until  one  has  mastered 
the  fact  of  his  immense  spiritual  ascendency  over  the 
Arabs.  The  expedient  of  giving  oneself  out  for  the  mes- 
senger of  God,  and  one's  speech  as  the  speech  of  God,  is 
of  no  avail  to  one  who  finds  no  credence ;  and  credence 
such  as  Mohammed  received  is  not  given  for  any  length  of 
time  either  to  an  impostor  or  a  dupe.  Even  the  respect 
in  which  he  was  held  as  a  prophet  would  have  helped  him 
little  if  his  decisions  had  been  foolish  and  perverse.  But 
they  were  in  accordance  with  truth  and  sound  understand- 
ing; he  saw  into  things  and  was  able  to  solve  their  riddle  ; 
he  was  no  mere  enthusiast,  but  a  thoroughly  practical 
nature  as  well. 

It  was  not  long  before  he  was  able  to  demand  as  of  right 
ihat  which,  in  the  first  instance,  had  been  a  voluntary  tri- 
bute. "  Every  dispute  which  ye  have  one  with  another 
ye  shall  bring  before  God  and  Mohammed  ; "  so  runs  the 
text  in  the  original  constitution  for  Medina,  set  up  in  the 
first  years  after  the  Flight-;  and  in  the  Koran  a  rebuke  is 
given  to  those  who  continue  to  seek  the  administration  of 
justice  at  the  hands  of  the  false  gods,  i.e.  of  their  priests 
and  seers.'  With  incredible  rapidity  the  Prophet  as  a 
veritable  "liAkim  biamr  Alhih"  had  come  to  be  the  most 
powerful  man  in  all  Medina. 


*^  Very  significant  if*  it  that  the  Moslems  were  ready  to  submit  even 
to  puni;^imunt  with  stripes,  if  aw.arded  by  God. 

2  Ibn  HLOiam,  342,  17. 

'  Ibn  Hishira,  360,  8  sqq.  Jolis  b.  Sowiiid  and  other  hypocrites 
were  summoned  before  Mohammed  by  their  believing  relatives  on  Re- 
count of  some  dispute  ;  but  they  in  their  turn  summoned  the  plainlitl's 
before  the  Kiiliius,  who  in  the  days  of  heathenism  had  bsen  tltcir 
judges.  It  was  with  reference  to  this  that  sur.  iv.'  63  was  revealed — 
"  Hast  thou  not  tAkcn  note  of  those  who  profess  to  be  believer.^,  yet 
wish  to  carry  on  their  suit  before  the  false  gods  1" 


•lOHAMSIlO).] 


M  O  H  A  M  M  E  D  A  N  I  S  31 


553 


Moliammed  thxxa  laid  the  foundations  of  his  position  in 
a  manner  precisely  similar  to  that  which  Moses  (Exod. 
xviii.)  is  sjiid  to  have  followed ;  and  jast  as  the  Torah  grew 
oat  of  the  decisions  of  Moses,  so  did  the  Sunna  out  of  thoss 
of  Mohammed.  It  was  perhajis  in  judicial  and  regulative 
activity,  which  he  continued  quietly  to  carry  on  to  the 
very  end  of  his  life,  that  his  vocation  chiefly  lay.  At  all 
events  his  work  in  this  direction  was  extremely  beneficial, 
if  only  because  he  was  the  creator  of  law  and  justice  where 
previously  there  had  been  nothing  but  violence,  self-help, 
or  at  best  voluntasy  arrangement.  But  the  contents  of 
his  legislation  also  (if  it  can  be  called  by  such  a  name) 
marked  a  distinct  advance  upon  what  had  been  the  previ- 
ous use  and  wont  in  Arabia.  In  particular,  he  made  it 
|iis  special  care  to  set  a  fence  round  the  rights  of  property, 
and  to  protect  and  raise  the  place  of  woman  in  marriage. 
Blood  revenge  he  retained  indeed,  but  completely  altered 
its  character  by  reserving  to  himself  the  right  of  permitting 
it ;  in  other  words,  the  right  of  capital  sentence.  It  need 
not  be  said  that  in  many  ways  he  availed  himself  of  th;.: 
■vvliich  already  existed,  whether  in  the  form  of  Arab  uso;' 
or  of  Jewish  law ;  he  followed  the  latter,  in  particular,  it 
his  laws  relatijig  to  marriage. 
1.  The  new  situation  of  afiFairs  inevitably  brought  it  abo'a' 
that  religion  was  made  a  mere  servant  in  the  work  of 
forming  a  commonwealth.  Xever  ha-s  this  service  been 
better  performed ;  never  has  it  been  utilized  with  greater 
adroitness  as  a  means  towards  this  end.  In  Mecca,  Islam 
had  originally  been  nothing  more  than  the  individual  con- 
viction of  Mohammed ;  it  was  oidy  after  severe  struggles 
that  he  went  so  far  as  to  preach  it,  and  even  his  preaching 
lad  no  other  aim  than  to  create  individual  conviction  in 
others.  What  he  said  was  of  the  simplest  description — 
that  people  ought  to  believe  in  God  and  in  judgment  to 
come,  that  men  ought  to  live  their  lives  seriously  and  not 
Avastc  them  in  f  allies,  tliat  one  ought  not  to  be  high-minded 
or  covetou-s,  and  so  on.  A  community  arose,  it  is  true, 
c\en  in  Mecca,  and  was  confirmed  by  the  persecutions. 
There  also  religious  meetings  were  held  and  social  prayers. 
l!ut  everything  was  still  in  a  very  fluid  and  rudimentary 
stage ;  religion  retained  its  inward  character.  It  was  not 
■until  the  first  two  years  after  the  Flight  that  it  gradually 
lost  this,  and  became,  if  not  exclusively,  yet  to  a  very  large 
extent,  a  mere  drill  system  for  the  community.*  No  god 
but  the  one  God  (lA  ilih  ilia  'Uah)  was  the  entire  sum  of 
tlieir  dogmatic,  and  less  importance  was  attached  to  belief 
in  it  than  to  profession  of  it.  It  was  the  watchword  and 
battle-cry.  The  prayers  *  took  the  form  of  military  exer- 
cises ;  ihey  were  imitated  with  the  greatest  precision  by 
the  congregation,  after  the  example  of  the  Im&m.  The 
mosque  was,  in  fact,  the  great  exercising  ground  of  Islam  ; 
it  was  there  that  the  Moslems  acquired  the  esprit  de  cor»s 
jjnd  rigid  discipline  which  distinguished  their  armies. 

Next  to  the  monotheistic  confession  (tauhiJ)  and  to 
"prayer  (salit)  came  almsgiving  (zakAt,  sadaka)  as  a  third 
important  means  by  which  Mohammed  awakened  and 
brought  into  action  among  his  followers  the  feeling  of  fellow- 
ship.    The  alms  by  and  by  grew  to  be  a  sort  of  tithe,  which 


1  Tliia  ia  to  be  understood  as  appl\-ing  to  the  system  as  a  wliole. 
Of  course,  there  are  always  individuaU  who  break  through  systeai ; 
tut  the  historical  power  of  Islam  rests  upon  the  system.  To  the 
■system  also  belongs  the  spiritual  jargon  which  Mohammed  introduced. 
It  was  no  longer  permissible  to  say  "  Qood  morning  J '  ('im  sabiilian), 
the  phraie  now  ran,  "  Peace  be  with  thee  ! "  and  on  every  occasion 
pious  fonns  of  speecli  were  demanded.  Characteristic  of  the  puritan- 
ism  of  the  system  is  tlie  prohibition  of  wine  and  of  gnming,  first  issued 
im  the  yean  immediately  following  the  Fligiit,  and  the  contempt  for 
poetry. 

-  They  were  five  in  number — at  sunrise,  noon,  afternoon,  sunset,  and 
late  evening.  E.icli  pi-ayer  consisted  originally  of  two,  afterwards  of 
"four,  prostr-itions.  The  chief  weekly  public  service  (jom'a),  with  ser- 
mon, was  held  on  Friday  at  mid-Jay. 


afterwards  became  the  basis  of  the  Jloslem  fiscal  system, 
and  so  at  the  same  time  the  material  foundation  of  the 
Moslem  state.  Religion  received  so  practical  a  develoi>- 
roent  that  of  alms  nothing  but  the  name  remained,  and 
the  convenient  fiction  that  the  taxes  had  to  be  paid  to  God. 

Just  in  proportion  to  the  closeness  of  the  union  into 
which  Islam  brought  its  followers  did  its  exclusivene.ss 
towards  them  that  were  without  increase.  If  in  Mecca 
Mohammed  in  his  relations  to  the  other  monotheistic  reli- 
gions had  observed  the  principle,  "  ho  that  is  not  against 
me  is  for  me,"  in  Medina  his  rule  was  "  he  that  is  not  for 
me  is  against  me."  As  circumstances  were,  he  had  to  ad 
just  matters  chiefly  with  the  Jews.  Without  any  inteiition 
on  their  pait,  they  had  helped  to  prepare  the  ground  for 
him  in  Medina ;  he  had  great  hopes  from  them,  and  at  Srst 
treated  them  on  no  different  footing  from  that  of  the  Arab 
families  which  recognized  him.  But  as  his  relations  with 
the  Aus  and  Khazraj  consolidated,  those  which  he  had 
with  the  Jews  became  less  close.  The  conjunction  of  reli- 
gious with  political  authority,  the  development  of  civil 
polity  out  of  religion,  of  the  kingship  from  the  prophetic 
function,  was  precisely  what  they  objected  to.^  On  tho 
other  hand,  while  the  old  polity  of  Medina,  broken  up  and 
disorganized  as  it  was,  had  no  difficulty  in  tolerating 
foreign  elements  within  its  limits,  the  new  political  system 
created  by  Islam  changed  the  situation,  and  rendered  it 
necessary  that  these  should  be  either  assimilated  or  ex- 
pelled. 

Mohammed's  hostility  to  the  Jews  found  expression,  in 
the  first  instance,  theoretically  more  than  practically,*  and 
especially  in  the  care  with  which  he  now  differentiated 
certain  important  religious  usages  which  he  had  taken  over 
from  Judaism,  so  that  they  became  distinguishing  marks 
between  Islam  and  Mosai.sm.  Thus,  for  example,  he  altered 
the  direction  of  prayer  (Kibla),  which  formerly  used  to  ba 
towards  Jerusalem,  so  that  it  now  was  towards  Mecca ; 
and  for  the  fast  on  the  10th  of  Tisri  ('Ashiird)  he  sub^ 
stituted  that  of  the  month  of  Ramadan.*  In  apijointing 
Friday  as  the  principal  day  of  public  worship,  he  may  also 
possibly  have  had  some  polemical  reference  to  the  Jewish 
Sabbath.  Of  these  alterations  the  greatest  in  positive 
importance  is  the  transference  of  the  Kibla  to  Mecca.  It 
symbolizes  the  completion  of  the  Arabizing  process  which 
went  on  step  by  step  with  the  change  Islam  underwent 
from  being  an  individual  to  being  a  political  religion.  In 
substituting  the  Meccan  Ka'ba  for  the  sanctuary  at  Jeru- 
salem, Mohammed  did  not  merely  bid  farewell  to  Judaism 
and  assert  his  independence  of  it ;  w;hat  he  chiefly  did  was 
to  make  a  concession  to  heathenism,  and  bring  about  a 
nationalization  of  Islam,  for  the  purpose  of  welding  togethei" 
the  Arab  tribes  (Kabiil)  into  one  community.  Of  similar 
.significance  was  the  institution  of  the  feast  of  sacrifice  ('id 
al-doh.A)  on  the  day  of  the  Meccan  festival.  The  Moslems 
were  to  observe  the  latter  as  much  as  possible,  even  if  they 
could  not  be  actually  present  on  the  spot. 

Thus  we  have  the  five  chief  precepts  of  Islam — (1)  Con- 
fession of  the  unity  of  God  ;  (2)  stated  prayer ;  (3)  alms- 
giving; (4)  the  fast  of  Ramadan;  (5)  observance  of  the 
festival  of  Mecca.     Capable  of  having  deeper  meanings 


crefls'd 
ckIu 


Tli« 
Jews. 


Precepts 
of  Isk.31 


»  While  Islam  had  the  effect  of  uniting  the  Arabs  politically,  uni- 
formity of  religion  ui  the  case  of  the  Jews  had  no  such  effect ;  on  tho 
(-•ontrary,  the  mutual  feuds  and  hatreds  in  wl'iich  they  indulged  con- 
duced greatly  to  the  advantage  of  the  Moslems.  The  Jews,  of  course, 
recognised  Mohammed's  supremacy  as  a  fact,  but  they  denied  .any  legal 
title  thereto  as  arising  from  his  prophetic  office 

*  Comparo  the  well-known  second  siVra,  in  which  a  long  attack  is 
made  on  Judaism.  . 

•  A  connection  with  the  Christian  fasU  U  usually  alleged.  It  is 
possible  that  Christian  innacnc&may  have  to  do  with  the  loug  duratiou 
of  the  fasts,  but  it  cannot  have  anything  to  do  with  the  selection  of  I 
Ramad.in  ;  for  in  the  first  years  alter  the  Flight,  KamnAm  fill  not  ia ) 

*  Spring  but  in  December. 

XVI.  —  -  o 


654 


MOHAMMEDANISM 


'  [iiOHAlEfED. 


attached  to  them,  but  meritorious  also,  even  in  a  merely 
external  observance,  they  were  an  excellent  instrumentality 
for  producing  that  esprit  de  corps,  that  obedience  to  Allih 
and  his  messenger,  which  constituted  the  strength  of  the 
Mosfem  system.  Up  till  that  time  blood-relationship  had 
been  the  foundation  of  all  political  and  social  relations  in 
Arabia ;  upon  such  a  foundation  it  was  impossible  to  raise 
any  enduring  edifice,  for  blood  dissociates  as  much  as  it 
unites.  But  now,  religion  entered  upon  the  scene  as  a 
much  more  energetic  agent  in  building  the  social  structure; 
it  ruthlessly  broke  up  the  old  associations,  in  order  to 
cement  the  thus  disintegrated  elements  into  a,  new  and 
much  more  stable  system.  The  very  hearts  of  men  were 
changed  ;  the  sanctity  of  the  old  relationships  faded  away 
in  the  presence  of  AllAh  ;  brother  would  have  slain  brother, 
had  Mohammed  willed  it.  .The  best  Moslem  was  he  who 
was  the  most  remorseless  in  separating  from  the  old  and 
attaching  himself  to  the  new  ;  Mohammed  gave  preference 
to  active  natures,  even  if  they  occasionally  kicked  over  the 
traces ;  contemplative  piety  received  from  him  only  the 
praise  of  words.  Over  the  anarchical  rule  of  a  multi- 
tude of  families  the  sole  sovereignty  of  God  came  forth 
triumphant ;  its  subjects  were  united  by  the  firmest  of  all 
bonds.  Every  Moslem  was  every  Moslem's  brother,  and, 
SIS  matter  of  course,  took  his  part  as  against  every  non- 
Moslem.  Outside  of  Islam  there  was  neither  law  nor 
safety;  AllAh  alone  was  powerful,  and  he  protected  those 
only  who  acknowledged  his  sole  sovereignty. 
Emi-  'rhe  Emigrants  (Moh4jira),  who  along  with  the  Prophet 

pants  liad  fled  from  Mecca,  were  the  kernel  and  the  cement  of 
and  De.  jjjg  community.  It  was  made  all  the  easier  for  them  to 
give  effect  to  the  fundamental  principle,  that  citizenship 
in  Medina  depended  not  on  family  but  on  faith,  because  the 
natives  themselves  (AnsAr,  "the  Defenders"),  consisting  of 
Aus  and  Khazraj,  neutralized  one  another  by  their  mutual 
enmity.  Mohammed  seems  at  first  to  have  cherished  the 
design  not  only  of  entirely  disowning  relationship  with 
non-Moslems,  but  also  of  obliterating  as  much  as  possible, 
within  Islam,  the  distinctions  of  blood,  by  means  of  the 
common  faith.  He  established  between  emigrants  and 
individual  citizens  of  Medina  relationships  of  brotherhood, 
which  also  involved  heirship.  But  he  soon  abandoned  this 
Une,  and  expressly  recognized  the  validity  and  sacredness, 
within  Islam,  of  the  old  rights  of  family  and  inheritance 
(sur.  viii.  76).  Thus  he  refrained  from  carrying  out  to 
its  full  logical  consequence  the  theoretical  principle  of 
equalization,  but  on  practical  grounds  permitted  the  old 
order  of  society  to  continue.  At  a  subsequent  period,  he 
even  conceded  to  relationship  and  the  ties  of  blood  far 
larger  rights  than  were  compatible  with  Islam,  and  thus 
himself  laid  the  foundations  of  the  violent  quarrel  which 
rent  the  community,  more  particularly  in  the  time  of  the 
Omayyads.  Similarly  it  might  be  said  that  communism 
was  originally  involved  in  the  principles  of  Islam ;  but  it 
is  characteristic  that  from  the  first  the  alms  were  less  em- 
ployed for  the  equalization  of  society,  than  for  strengthening 
the  hands  of  the  ruling  power.  It  frequently  happens  that 
a  religious  revolution  finds  expression  also  in  the  region  of 
social  polity ;  but  it  is  remarkable  to  o!)sorvo  how  Islam 
utilized  the  religious  leaven  from  the  first  for  a  positive  re- 
organization of  society,  and  neutrali/.ed  the  destructive 
tendency  which  that  leaven  is  wont  to  show  in  political 
affairs.  It  did  not  indeed  succeed  in  totally  destroying  the 
radical  tendency,  as.  the  history  of  the  caliphate  shows. 
But,  on  the  whole,  the  equality  before  God  which  Islam 
teaches  interfered  hardly  at  all  with  the  subordination  of 
men  to  their  human  leaders ;  both  were  demanded  by 
religion,  both  were  taken  sincerely,  and  each  was  found, 
in  practice,  rcconcilablo  with  the  other. 

That  this  new  .'<nd  drastic  principle,  thrown  into  the 


chaos  of  existing  relations,  must  have  exercised  a  mighty 
power  both  of  attraction  and  repulsion  is  obvious.  Mora 
than  one  naive  cxjiression  bears  w-itncss  to  the  astonish- 
ment with  which  the  Arabs  regarded  the  strange  spirit 
which  animated  the  community  of  the  Moslems — the  firm- 
ness with  which  they  held  together,  the  absolute  and  veil- 
ing obedience  which  they  gave  to  their  leaders,  the  reck- 
lessness with  which  they  disregarded  everything  that  before 
Islam,  or  outside  of  it,  was  looked  upon  as  holy.  Some 
natures  felt  themselves  attracted  by  these  peculiarities, 
especially  if  on  other  grounds  they  felt  little  difficulty  in 
severing  themselves  from  their  old  connexions ;  but,  on  tija 
whole,  feelings  of  antipathy  prevailed.  Even  in  Medina  The 
itself  this  antipathy  was  widespread.  The  so-called  hj-po-  hypo- 
crites (monAfikun)  were  either  only  half-attached  to  the"""*" 
Prophet  or  in  their  inmost  hearts  unfavourably  disposed ; 
they  were  kept  from  overt  action  partly  by  the  absence  of 
a  decided  opinion,  partly  by  the  terrorism  which  the  con- 
vinced Moslems  exercised.  The  reproach  of  hypocrisy 
brought  against  them  means  chiefly  that  they  did  not 
manifest  a  full  acceptance  of  th»  new  political  relations. 
They  could  not  reconcile  themselves  to  the  position  of 
having  never  a  word  to  say  in  their  own  town,  and  of 
being  compelled  to  obey  the  Prophet  from  Mecca  and  those 
who  had  come  with  him.  For  a  time  the  danger  was 
imminent  that  all  Medina  (the  Emigrants  of  course  ex- 
cepted) might  be  infected  with  hypocrisy,  if  one  may  call 
it  hypocrisy  when  for  a  moment  nature  and  blood  asserted 
themselves  against  religious  discipline  and  burst  its  bonds. 
The  younger  portion  of  the  community,  however,  was  on 
the  whole  enthusiastic  for  Mohammed ;  the  hypocrites 
were  for  the  most  part  older  men,  especially  heads  of 
families,  who  found  it  difficult  to  put  up  with  the  loss  of 
political  influence  which  they  were  suffering.  As  chief  of 
their  number  Ibn  Obay  is  always  named,  the  foremost 
man  of  Medina,  whom  the  Khazraj  had  thought  of  crown- 
ing as  king,  before  matters  were  so  fundamentally  changed 
by  Islam.  Mohammed's  attitude  towards  him  and  the 
hypocrites  in  general  was  that  of  connivance, — thoroughly 
appropriate  here,  where  political  rather  than  religious  afi'airs 
were  involved,  and  the  question  was  one  less  of  principle 
than  of  power. 

The  founding  of  the  state  upon  the  feeling  of  fellowship 
generated  by  religion,  was  without  question  the  Prophet's 
greatest  achievement :  the  community  of  Medina  was  the 
tool,  its  heroic  faith  the  force,  by  means  of  which  Islim 
attained  the  results  which  figure  so  largely  in  the  history 
of  the  world.^  Jloslem  tradition,  however,  does  not  stop  to 
inquire  what  it  was  that  constituted  the  inward  strength  of 
Islam,  but  goes  on  at  once  to  relate  what  were  its  outward 
manifestations.  Its  information  on  the  subject  of  the  period 
of  Mohammed's  sojourn  in  Medina  is  given  under  the  title  of 
"the  campaigns  (maghizi)  of  the  apostle  of  God."  With 
a  few  of  the  smaller  tribes  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Medina 
(Johaina,  Mozaina,  Ghifir,  Aslam),  and  with  the  Khoz;i'a, 
Mohammed  maintained  relations  of  peace  and  amity ; 
benevolent  neutrality  gradually  grew  into  alliance,  and 
finally  union  with  the  commonwealth  of  Medina.  But 
towards  all  the  rest  of  Arabia  his  very  principles  placed 
him  in  an  attitude  of  war.  Ever  since  Islam  from  being 
a  religion  had  become  a  kingdom,  l-.e  was  compelled  to 
vindicate,  by  means  of  war  against  unbelievers,  its  claims 
to  supremacy;  the  conflict  of  principles  had  to  be  settled 
by  the  sword,  the  sole  sovereignty  of  Allih  dcmonstnited 


he 


'  The  credit  of  bi-ing  the  founder  of  the  Moslem  st-ntc 
tr.-insferred  to  'Om.ir,  hut  must  be  left  with  Mohammed.  It  wfl'.  not 
'Omar  who  created  that  feeling  of  oneness  which  enabled  him,  for  ex- 
ample, suddenly  to  recall  a  general  like  Khillid  from  his  career  of  victory 
without  eliciting  a  murmur.  Tlie  miracle  is  the  "primitive  cell  "  of 
Medin.i,  not  the  fact  that  in  course  of  time  success  gave  it  the  fi  V'-e  of 


XOBAVMED.] 


MOHAMMEDANISM 


555 


by  force  to  the  rebels  who  showed  unwillingness  to  accept 
it.  More  literally  than  Christ  could  Mohammed  say  of 
himself  that  he  was  come  not  to  bring  peace  but  a  sword. 
Islam  was  a  standing  declaration  of  war  against  idolaters. 
Th«  holy  The  nearest  object  against  which  to  direct  the  holy  war 
w«r.  (jihid)  was  presented  by  the  Meccans.  Against  them  first 
did  Mohammed  bring  into  operation  tb-n  new  principle,  that 
it  is  fcuth  and  not  blood  that  separates  and  imites.  Ac- 
cording to  Arab  notions  it  was  a  kind  of  high  treason  on 
his  part  to  leave  his  native  town  in  order  to  join  a  foreign 
society ;  on  the  part  of  the  people  of  Medina  it  was  an 
act  of  hostility  to  Mecca  to  receive  him  among  them. 
The  Meccans  would  have  been  fully  justified  on  their  side 
in  taking  arms  against  the  Moslems,  but  they  refrained, 
being  too  much  at  their  ease,  and  shrinking  besides  from 
fratricidal  war.  It  was  the  Moslems  who  took  the  initia- 
tive ;  aggressiveness  was  in  their  blood.  Mohammed 
began  with  utilizing  the  favourable  position  of  Medina,  on 
a  mountain  spur  near  the  great  highway  from  Yemen  to 
Syria,  to  intercept  the  Meccan  caravans.  Originally  he 
sent  forth  only  the  Emigrants  to  take  part  in  the  expedi- 
tions, as  the  people  of  Medina  had  pledged  themselves  to 
defend  him  only  in  the  event  of  his  being  attacked ;  soon, 
however,  they  also  joined  him.  What  first  induced  them 
to  do  so  was  the  prospect  of  booty;  afterwards  it  was  im- 
possible to  separate  themselves,  so  great  was  the  fusion  of 
elements  which  had  been  quietly  going  on  within  the 
crucible  of  Isl^m. 

The  first  plunder  was  taken  in  the  month  Eajab,  A.H.  2 
(Autumn  623),  in  which  circumstance  was  at  once  seen  the 
advantage  arising  from  the  change  of  conscience  brought 
about  by  the  new  religion;  for  in  Rajab  feuds  and  plun- 
dering raids  were  held  to  be  unlawful.  Relying  upon  the 
sacredness  of  this  month  a  caravan  of  Koraish  was  return- 
ing from  tiii  laden  with  leather,  wine,  and  raisins.  But 
this  did  not  prevent  Mohammed  from  sending  out  a  band 
of  Emigrants  to  surprise  the  caravan  at  Nakhla,  between 
TAif  and  Mecca ;  his  orders  to  this  effect  were  given  in  a 
document  which  was  not  to  be  unsealed  untU  two  days 
after  the  departure  of  the  expedition.  The  plan  was  carried 
out,  and  the  surprise  was  all  the  more  successful,  because 
the  robbers  gave  themselves  the  outward  semblance  of 
pilgrims ;  one  Meccan  was  killed  in  the  struggle.  But 
the  perfidy  -n-ith  which  in  this  instance  Mohammed's  ad- 
vanced religious  views  enabled  him  to  utilize  for  his  own 
advantage  the  pious  custom  of  the  heathen  roused  in 
Medina  itself  such  a  storm  of  disapproval,  that  he  found 
himself  compelled  to  disavow  his  own  tools.  In  Moham- 
medan tradition,  the  contents  of  the  unambiguous  document 
in  which  he  ordered  the  surprise  are  usually  falsified. 
Battle  of  The  Koraish  still  remained  quiet ;  another  outrage  had 
Bedr.  yet  to  come.  In  Ramadan  A.H.  2  (December  623),  the 
return  of  their  great  Syrian  caravan  was  expected,  and 
Mohammed  resolved  to  Ue  in  wait  for  it  at  Bedr,  a  favour- 
ite watering-place  and  camping -ground,  northward  from 
Medina.  For  this  purpose  he  set  out  thither  in  person 
along  wifh  308  men ;  but  the  leader  of  the  caravan,  the 
Omayyad  Abii  Sofyin,  got  word  of  the  plan  and  sent  a 
messenger  to  Mecca  with  a  request  for  speedy  help.  Con- 
cern about  their  money  and  goods  at  last  drove  the  Koraish 
to  arms ;  a  very  short  interval  found  them,  900  strong,  on 
the  road  to  Bedr.  By  the  way  they  received  intelligence 
that  the  caravan  had  made  a  circuit  to  the  west  of  Bedr, 
and  was  already  in  safety.  Nevertheless  they  resolved,  at 
the  instance  of  the  Makhzumit  Abii  Jahl,  for  the  sake  of 
their  honour,  to  continue  their  march.  When  the  Moslems 
first  got  touch  of  them  at  Bedr,  they  took  them  for  the 
caravan ;  their  surprise  on  discovering  the  truth  may  be 
imagined.  But,  kept  firm  by  the  courage  of  their  leader, 
they  resolved  to  face  the  superior  numbers  of  the  enemy. 


On  the  morning  of  Friday,  the  17th  of  Ramadan,  the 
encounter  took  place.  A  number  of  duels  were  fought  in 
the  front,  which  were  mostly  decided  in  favour  of  the 
Moslems.  The  Meccans  at  last  gave  up  the  fight,  strictly 
speaking  for  no  other  cause  than  that  they  did  not  see  any 
reason  for  carrying  it  on.  They  were  reluctant  to  shed 
the  blood  of  their  kinsmen ;  they  were  awestruck  in  pre- 
sence of  the  gloomy  determination  of  their'  adversaries, 
who  did  know  what  they  were  fighting  for,  and  were 
absolutely  reckless  of  consequences.  After  a  number  of 
the  noblest  and  oldest  of  the  Koraish,  including  at  last 
Abii  Jahl,  had  fallen,  those  who  remained  took  to  flight. 
The  number  of  the  dead  is  said  to  have  been  as  great  as 
that  of  the  prisoners.  Two  of  the  latter,  whom  he  per- 
sonally hated,  Mohammed  caused  to  be  put  to  death 

X)kba  b.  Abl  Mo'ait  and  al-Nadr  b.  al-H4rith.  A\"hen 
the  last  named  had  perceived,  from  the  Prophet's  malignant 
glance,  the  danger  in  which  he  stood,  he  implored  an  old 
friend  of  his  among  the  Moslems  for  his  intercession.  This 
request  being  refused,  al-Nadr  said :  "  Had  the  Koraish 
taken  thee  prisoner,  thou  hadst  not  been  put  to  death  as 
long  as  I  had  lived  ;"  to  which  the  apologetic  reply  was  : 
"  I  do  not  doubt  it,  but  I  am  differently  placed  from  thee, 
for  Islam  has  made  an  end  of  the  old  relations."  To  the 
remaining  prisoners  life  was  spared  on  payment  by  their 
kinsmen  of  a  heavy  ransom ;  but  Mohammed  is  said  to 
have  afterwards  reproached  himself  for  having  allowed 
considerations  of  earthly  gain  to  keep  him  back  frcm  send 
ing  them  all  to  hell  as  they  deserved. 

The  battle  of  Bedr  is  not  only  the  most  celebrated  of  Effect 
battles  in  the  memory  of  Moslems;  it  was  really  also  ofoff" 
great  historical  importance.  It  helped  immensely  to ''*"''■ 
strengthen  Mohammed's  position.  Thenceforward  opei: 
opposition  to  him  in  Medina  was  impossible ;  families 
which  had  hitherto  withdrawn  themselves  from  his  influ- 
ence were  so  thoroughly  cowed  by  some  atrocious  murders 
carried  out  in  obedience  to  his  orders,  that  they  went  over 
to  Islam.  He  was  now  in  a  position  to  proceed  to  brcilc 
up  the  autonomy  of  the  Jews.  In  the  first  instance  he 
addressed  himself  to  the  weak  Banii  Kainoki,  demanding' 
their  acceptance  of  Islam;  on  their  refusal,  he  took  the 
earliest  opportunity  that  offered  itself  to  declare  war  against 
them.  After  a  short  siege  they  were  compelled  to  surren- 
der; and  they  might  congratulate  themselves  that  their  old 
ally,  Ibn  Obay,  was  able  to  concuss  the  Prophet  into  sparing 
their  lives,  and  contenting  himself  with  their  banishment 
frpm  Medina.  Soon  afterwards  other  blow?  were  struck, 
in  the  shape  of  assassinations,  by  means  of  which  Moham- 
med put  out  of  the  way  several  of  the  Jews  whom  he  hatedl 
most,  such  as  KaT)  b.  al-Ashraf  and  Ibn  Sonaina.'  The^ 
state  of  fear  to  which  the  rest  were  reduced  may  readily 
be  imagined ;  Hiey  came  to  the  Prophet  and  begged  him 
to  be  propitioxis.  If  in  other  days  their  dislike  had  found 
somewhat  public  expression  in  all  sorts  of  witticisms  and 
scornful  sayings,  they  were  now  at  least  modest  and  quiet, 
and  kept  their  hatred  to  themselves. 

The  Meccans  also  were  very  deeply  impressed  by  the 
defeat  inflicted  on  them  by  the  Moslems.  They  saw  clearly 
that  the  blow  must  be  avenged,  and  they  took  comprehen- 
sive measures  for  their  campaign.  After  a  year's  delay,- 
their  preparations  being  now  complete,  and  their  allies 


*  The  murderer  of  Ibn  Sonaina  was  Mohayyisa  b.  Mas'ud,  of  whose] 
elder  brother,  Howaisa,  he  had  been  a  sworn  ally.  Howaisa  struck  the' 
murderer  in  consequence,  and  reproached  him  with  his  treacherous 
ingratitude,  saying  that  much  of  the  fat  in  his  body  had  come  fromi 
the  estate  of  the  Jew.  Mohayyisa's  reply  was  :  "  If  he  who  bade  mo 
kill  him  were  also  to  bid  me  kill  thee,  I  should  obey."  The  brother, 
amazed,  asked  him  if  he  was  serious,  and  when  the  other  assured  him 
that  he  was,  Howaisa  exclaimed  :  "  By  God,  a  religion  which  brings  it 
to  this  is  a  stupendous  one, "  and  fortliwith  became  a  "opvprt.  The 
storj*  (  f'ttkidi,  p.  981  is  too  characteristic  to  be  j>.'issed  OTtl. 


656 


MOHAMMEDANISM 


[SIOnAMMED' 


(AiabisL)  assembled,  they  set  out  under  the  command  of 
Abii  Sofyin,  and  without  any  check  reached  Medina,  where 
they  pitched  their  camp  to  the  north-east  of  the  city,  in 
the  green  corn-fielda  by  Mount  Ohod.  In  Medina  the 
ciders  were  for  awaiting  the  attack  on  tie  town  and  de- 
fending themselves  within  it,  but  the  young  men  hurried 
the  Prophet  into  the  determination  to  meet  the  enemy 
without  the  gates ;  this  resolution  once  come  to  he  per- 
,  severed  in,  even  after  those  who  had  urged  him  to  it  had 
"JBit-I^  of  changed  their  minds.  On  the  morning  of  Saturday,  the 
■Oho'l.  7th  of  Shawwal,  a.h.  3  (Jan.  Feb.  625),  the  armies  met. 
At  first  the  battle  seemed  to  be  going  once  more  in  favour 
of  the  Moslems ;  one  after  another  the  standard-bearers 
and  champions  of  the  enemy  fell,  the  whole  host  \vavered, 
and  even  the  camp  was  gained.  But  here  their  lust  for 
plunder  did  them  au  evil  turn.  Mohammed  had  covered 
his  left  flank  against  the  Meccan  horsemen  by  a  number 
of  bowmen,  whom  he  liad  ordered  on  no  account  to  leave 
their  post.  But  as  soon  as  they  saw  that  the  enemy's 
camp  was  taken,  they  threw  off  aU  discipline,,  and 
determined  to  have  their  share  of  what  was  going.  *t 
thus  became  possible  for  the  Meccan  cavalry  to  fall  upon 
the  iloslem  rear,  and  snatch  back  the  victory  that  had 
already  been  won.  In  the  confusion  which  now  ensued 
Mohammed  himself  was  wounded  in  the  face,  and  for  some 
time  lay  for  dead  on  the  ground.  Among  the  slain  was 
found  his  uncle,  Hamza  b.  "Abdalmottalib,  "the  Hon  of 
God ;  "  his  liver  was  cut  out  and  carried  to  Abd  SofyAn's 
wife.  Hind  bint  "Otba,  whose  father  had  been  killed  by 
Hamza  at  Bedr.  But  the  Meocans  did  not  know  how  to 
follow  up  theii'  triumph.  Instead  of  at  once  attacking 
Medina — where,  to  be  sure,  a  second  struggle  with  Ibn 
Obay,  who  with  his  following  had  not  taken  part  in  the 
battle  at  Ohod,  would  have  been  necessary — they  con- 
tented themselves  with  the  honour  of  their  victory,  and 
took  the  road  home,  after  havidg  summoned  the  Moslems 
to  a  repetition  in  the  following  year  of  the  duel  at  Bodr. 
Mohammed  even  pursued  them  for  a  short  distance  on  the 
following  day  (as  far  as  to  Hamri  al-Asad),  of  course  only 
for  the  sake  of  appearances,  that  the  Arabs  might  not 
suppose  him  to  have  been  daunted  by  his  defeat. 
■Ban*  Nothing  came  of  the  proposed  meeting  at  Bedr,  the 

*"'  11  J  ^^^'^'^^°^  failing  to  put  in  an  appearance.  The  principal 
■V"  ^  ■  event  of  a.h.  4  was  the  expul.sion  of  the  Banii  Nadir, 
the  most  distinguished  and  powerful  Jewish  family  in 
^Medina  (Summer  625).  Mohammed,  under  some  pretext, 
suddenly  broke  with  them  and  ordered  their  departure 
wi'Mn  ten  days,  on  pain  of  death.  Kelying  upon  the 
support  of  Ibn  Obay,  they  resolved  to  resist,  and  sus- 
tained a  siege  within  their  walls ;  but  the  ally  they  had 
counted  on  proved  a  broken  reed,'  and  they  were  soon 
compelled  to  surrender.  They  were  permitted  to  with- 
draw, taking  along  with  them  all  their  movable  property 
except  their  arms.  With  music  and  roll  of  drum,  the 
women  in  gala  dress,  they  marched  through  the  streets  of 
Medina,  on  their  way  to  Khaibar,  where  thoy  had  pro- 
perty. Their  land  the  Prophet  appropriated  to  himself 
(sur.  lix.  7) ;  the  income  derived  from  it  could  bo  e:n- 
|)!oyed  to  meet  the  numerous  claims  that  were  made  upon 
him.  He  seems  also  to  have  handed  over  some  of  it  to 
the  Emigrants,  who  until  then  had  acquired  no  property 
in  land  in  Medina. 

Meanwhile,  the  Banu  Nadir  were  not  idle  in  Khaibar, 
but  left  no  stone  unturned  to  annihilate  their  mortal 
f  nemy.  Thoy  succeeded  in  bringing  about  au  alliance  of 
the  Koraish  and  the  great  Bedouin  tribes  of  Solaim  and 
Ghatafdn,  for  the  suppression  of  lilam.      In  the  month 


'  Tlie  sympathy  ahown  by  many  scholars  for  Ibn  0'<ay,  whose  we.ik. 
ness  degenerated  into  failUlessnesa,  is  tinj>:stif'.cd. 


Dhii  'l-ka'da,  a.h.  5  (March  627),  the  three  armies  aft- 
out,  10,000  stirong,  under  the  command  of  Abii  Sofyiin. 
Mohammed  received  word  of  this  through  the  Khozi'a, 
who  secrptly  played  into  his  hands,  and  on  this  occasioa 
he  resolved,  not  as  formerly  to  offer  battle  on  the  open 
field,  but  to  make  preparation  for  a  siege.  For  the  most 
part  the  houses  of  the  town  were  built  so  close  to  one 
another  as  to  make  a  continuous  wall ;  at  the  north-west 
corner  only  was  there  a  wide  open  space,  through  which  an 
enemy  coiild  easily  effect  an  entrance.  Here  Mohammed, 
■with  the  advice  and  direction  of  the  Persian  freedman 
Salman,  drew  a  ditch,  behind  which  he  entrenched  him- 
self with  the  Moslems,  the  lull  of  Sal'-  protecting  their 
rear.  This  fosse,  which  has  become  famous,  and  has  even 
given  its  name  to  the  entire  campaign  (the  War  of  the  ^ar  rf 
Fosse),  fully  served  its  purpose.  The  enemy  with  their '-"' 
cavaliy  perseveringly  directed  their  attack  on  this  spot,  '"^^ 
but  were  constantly  repelled  by  the  vigilant  and  courageous 
defence  of  the  fosse.  They  at  last  gave  up  all  hope  of 
reaching  their  end  in  this  way,  unless  a  simultaneous 
attack  were  to  su^'ceed  in  another  quarter.  To  assist 
them  in  this,  they  endeavoured  to  stir  up  the  Koraiza,  the 
last  autonomous  family  of  Jews  still  remaining  in  Medina, 
having  their  settlements  in  the  south-east  of  the  town. 
The  Nadirite  Hoyay  b.  Aklitab,  the  most  zealous  promoter 
of  the  alliance  against  Mohammed,  undertook  charge  of 
the  negotiations,  and  succeeded  at  last  in  persuading  their 
prince,  Ka'b  b.  Asad,  to  break  his  pact  of  neuti>.lity  with 
the  Moslems.  But  nothing  came  of  it.  The  Jews  doubted 
the  perseverance  of  the  Koi-aish  and  their  allies — they  had 
their  fears  lest,  if  the  struggle  proved  a  protracted  one,  the 
besiegers  might  withdraw  and  leave  them  to  their  fate. 
They  accordingly  demanded  hostages  in  security  against 
such  an  event,  being  otherwise  determined  not  to  break 
up  all  hope  of  reconciliation  with  Mohammed  by  entering 
the  contest.  This  attitude,  in  turn,  aroused  suspicion  on 
the  part  of  the  besiegers,  whom  it  was  not  difficult  to  con- 
vince that  the  Jews  were  demanding  hostages  of  them  for 
the  purpose  of  handing  them  over  to  Moharumed,  and  so 
making  their  peace  with  him.  All  this  crippled  their  actlvi- 
ties  still  more  than  did  the  failure  of  their  o-n-n  attacks  upon 
the  fosse.  The  season  also  was  against  them  ;  the  weather 
was  windy,  the  nights  extremely  cold,  and,  worst  of  all,  the 
fields  yielded  nothing.  From  this  cause  the  chief  sufferers 
were  the  Bedouins,  who  had  brought  no  forage  for  their 
camels  and  horses.  Mohammed,  who  appears  to  have  been 
kept  well  informed  of  their  mood,  judged  it  expedient  to 
open  negotiations  with  them.  These  were  soon  broken  off 
indeed,  but  the  mere  fact  that  the  Ghatafdn  had  ever 
entered  upon  them  was  enough  to  create  mutual  suspicion 
amongst  the  allies.  One  stormy  night  the  Meccana 
suddenly  raised  the  siege,  after  it  had  lasted  fourteen 
days,  and  returned  home ;  they  were  followed  by  the 
Ghataf.^n  and  Solaim.  It  was  with  no  small  joy  that  the 
Moslems  on  the  following  morning  discovered  the  de- 
parture of  the  enemy ;  it  would  have  been  impossible  for 
them  to  have  held  out  much  longer,  exliausted  as  they 
were,  not  less  by  cold  and  hunger,  than  by  the  fatigues  of 
constantly  mounting  guard.  As  soon  as  Mohammed  had 
given  them  permission  to  leave  the  camp  beside  the  hill 
of  Sal',  they  dispersed  with  the  greatest  alacrity  to  their 
homes. 

Mohammed,  however,  did  not  allow  them  much  time  to  i^-:it 
recruit.     Hardly  had  they  reached  their  abodes,  when  ho  »?  "" 
again  called  them  to  arms  against  the  treacherous  Koraiza.  ':'^'""J»' 
The  unlucky  Jews  had  been  given  over  to  the  sword  by 
the  withdrawal  of  the  allies ;   a  siege  of  fourteen  days 
compelled  them  to  surrender  unconditionally.     The  men 


'  Now  the  citadel,  it  would  seem. 


JfOHAMJU:!).] 


H  0  H  A:  M  M  E  D  A  N  I  S  M 


55? 


■nere^driven  in  cbains  to  the  house  of  Osima  b.  Zaid, 
whence  on  the  follnwing  morning  Mohammed  caused  them 
to  be  brought  one  by  one  to  the  market-place  of  Medina, 
Olid  there  executed.  This  continued  till  late  in  the  even- 
ing. They  were  six  or  seven  hundred  in  number,  and 
among  them  was  the  Nadirite  Hoyay  b.  Akhtab,  the 
author  of  the  War  of  the  Fosse,  Trho  had  left  the  Meccans 
to  join  his  fortimes  with  those  of  the  Korai7a.  By 
accepting  Islam  these  men  could  have  saved  their  Uvea, 
^ut  they  preferred  deatL    No  more  magnificent  martyrdom 

.lis  known  to  history.  The  women  end  children  were  sold 
(into  slavery ;  one  young  woman  only,  EanAna,  suffered  the 

I  j)enalty  of  death  for  having  broken  the  head  of  a  Moslem 
hvith  a  millstone  during  the  siege.     With  joyous  heart  and 

.'smiling  face  she  went  to  meet  her  death,  never  forgotten 

I,  by  'Aisha,  with  whom  she  was  when  her  name  was  called. 
The  Prophet  selected  for  himself  the  fair  Raihdna,  and 
married  her,  aftor  having  caused  her  to  become  a  convert 
to  Islam. 

The  War  of  the  Fosse  was  the  last  attack  made  by  the 
Koraish  upon  Medina ;  Mohammed  now  began  to  take  the 
offensive  towards  Mecca.  This  he  at  first  set  about  with 
extreme  diplomacy,  utilizing  the  festival,  and  the  truce  of 
God  subsistins;  at  the  time  of  the  festival,  for  the  purpose 
of  paying  a  visit  to  his  native  town.  Although  unsuccess- 
ful in  winning  to  his  side  the  neighbouring  tribes  of 
Bedouins,  it  was  nevertheless  with  a  considerable  following 
(1500  men)  that  in  Dhii  '1-lca'da  A-H.  6  (March  628),i  he  set 
out  on  his  journey.  In  a  dream  he  had  had  the  key  of 
the  Ka'ba  delivered  to  him ;  on  the  strength  of  this  his 
followers  believed  fiiinly  in  the  success  of  the  expedition. 
But  the  Koraish  were  determined  that  the  pretext  of  pil- 
grimage should  not  avail  their  adversary ;  they  summoned 
their  allies  and  formed  a  camp  to  the  north  of  their  tovt-n 
for  the  purpose  of  preventing  the  entrance  of  the  Moslems. 
Mohammed  was  forced  to  halt  at  Hodaibiya  on  the  borders 
of  the  sacred  territory,  and  it  was  in  vain  that  by  fair 
speeches  he  sought  to  obtain  permission  to  make  the 
circuit  of  the  Ka'ba.  He  felt  himself  too  weak  to  force 
his  way,  and  accordingly  preferred  '  >  treat.  While  the 
envoys  were  passing  to  and  fro,  there  suddenly  arose  an 
alarm  in  the  Moslem-  camp ;  they  apprehended  a  sudden 
act  of  treachery  on  the  part  of  the  Meccans.  It  was  on 
this  occasion  that  the  famous  Homage  under  the  Tree  took 
place,  when  Mohammed  pledged  his  followers  by  striking 
hands  that  they  would  stand  by  him  and  go  to  death  for 
his  sake.  Some  of  the  Koraish  agents  witnessed  the  scene, 
and  were  immensely  impressed  by  it ;  such  an  enthusiastic 
obedience  as  Mohammed  received,  such-  an  ascendency  over 
the  minds  of  men  as  he  exercised,  they  had  never  before 
conceived  to  be  possible,  and  on  their  return  they  urged 
their  people  in  the  strongest  way  not  to  permit  matters  to 
come  to  extremities.  The  Koraish  accordingly  judged  it 
best  to  offer  a  bargain  with  Mohammed,  the  terms  being 
that  for  this  year  he  was  to  withdraw,  so  that  the  Arabs 
might  not  say  that  he  had  forced  an  entrance,  but  that  on 
the  following  year  he  yras  to  return  and  be  permitted  to 
remain'  three  days  -n-ithin  the  sacred  territory  for  the 
purpose  of  sacrifice.  After  some  discussion  Mohammed 
accepted  this  proposal,  although  zealous  Moslems  detected 
a  discreditable  shortcoming  in  matters  of  faith,  in  so  far  as 
it  involved  turning  back  within  sight  of  the  Ka'ba  without 
being  allowed  to  accomplish  the  sacred  circuit.  W  hen  the 
agreement  was  to  be  committed  to  writing,  Mohammed 
dictated  the  words  :  "  In  the  name  of  Allih,  the  mercii'ul 
E«hraAn";^  but  the  Meccan  plenipotentiary,  Sohail  b. 
'Amr,  declared  that  be  knew  nothing  about  Rahmdn,  and 


'  Noldeke,  Tabari,  p.  803,  note  1  ;  rahidi,  p.  18. 
^  Kalituuii  is  a  name  of  God  which  Mohamin&d  had  token  fromihe 
Ji,"ffs  and  Bscd  with  fpecia!  preference. 


insisted  upon  the  custowaiy  formula — "  In  thy  nan/e,'95B4- 
hormna!"  The  Moslems  murmured,  but  Mohammed 
yielded.  He  then  went  on  to  dictate  :  "  This  is  the  treaty 
of  peace  between  the  apostle  of  God."  .  .  .  Sohail  anew- 
protested  ;  to  acknowledge  Mohammed  as  the  apostle  of 
God,  would  be  to  declare  himself  his  follower ;  the^dcr 
signation  ought  to  be  simply  Mohammed  b.  'Abdallih.  The 
Moslems  murmured  louder  than  before,  and  refused  to 
consent  to  the  change.  The  heads  of  the  two  tribes  of 
Medina,  Osaid  b.  Hodair  and  Sa'd  b.  'Obida,  held  the 
hand  of  the  scribe  and  declared  that  "Mohammed  tho 
apostle  of  God  "  must  be  written,  or  the  sword  must  de- 
cide. The  Meccan  representatives  whispered  to  one 
another  words  of  amazement  at  tho  spirit  displayed  by 
these  men.  But  Mohammed  made  a  sign  to  the  zealots 
to  hold  their  peace,  and  again  gave  way  (sur.  xviL  110). 
The  writing  which  now  took  shape  ran  as  follows : — 

"  In  thy  name,  0  God  I  This  is  the  treaty  of  peace  concludei',  The 
by  Mohammed  b.  'Abdallih  and  Sohail  b.  'Amr.  They  have  agreed  treaty, 
to  allow  their  arms  to  rest  for  ten  years.  During  this  time  eacli 
party  shall  be  secure,  aiid  neither  shall  injure  the  other ;  no  secret 
damage  shall  be  inflicted,  but  uprightness  and  honour  prevail  be- 
twkt  us.  Whosoever  wishes  to  enter  into  treaty  and  covenant  with 
Mohammed  can  do  so,  and  whosoever  wishes  to  enter  into  treaty 
and  covenant  with  the  Koraish  can  do  so.  But  if  a  Koraishite 
comes  without  permission  of  his  guardian  (Wall)  to  Mohainmed,  he 
shall  be  delivered  up ;  but  if,  on  the  other  hand,  one  of  Mohammed's 
people  comes  to  the  Koraish  he  shall  not  be  delivered  up.  This 
year  Mohaiamcd  with  his  companions  must  withdraw  from  us,^  but 
next  year  he  may  come  amongst  us  and  remain  for  three  days, 
yet  without  other  weapons  than  those  of  a  traveller,  the  swords 
remaining  in  their  sheaths." 

The  first  result  of  the  treaty  was  that  the  Khozi'a  de- 
clared for  alliance  with  Mohanuned ;  while,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  Bekr  b.  KlinAna  joined  themselves  to  the 
Koraish. 

To  compensate  his  followers  for  the  apparent  resultless- WarwHU 
ness  of  this  expedition,  Mohammed  immediately  after  K''^'""'- 
their  retiun  led  them  out  against  the  rich  Jews  of  Khaibar 
(northwards  from  Medina),  whither  the  Banti  Nadir  had 
migrated,  and  from  which  place  they  hi^l  unceasingly 
stin-ed  up  opposition  against  the  Prophet.  Hitherto  ho 
had  contented  himself  with  putting  out  of  tte  way,  by 
means  of  assassination,  some  of  their  leading  men  who 
seemed  to  him  to  be  particularly  dangerous,  such  as  Abii 
Rifi'  and  Yosair  b.  Rizim,*  but  now  he  resorted  to  whole- 
sale measiu'es.  In  Moharram,  a.h.  7  (May  628),  he  mado 
his  appearance  before  Khaibar  with  a  powerful  army ;  in 
the  plunder  only  those  who  had  taken  part  in  the.  expedi- 
tion of  Hodaibiya  were  to  share,  but  many  others  besides 
accompanied  them.  The  Jews,  although  aware  of  the 
hostility  of  Mohammed's  intentions,  were  nevertheless 
taken  completely  by  surprise  when  oneinoming  they  saw 
him  and  his  troops  encamp  before  their  strongholds.  One 
of  their  leaders  had  given  them  the  excellent  advice  not 
to  shut  themselves  up  by  families  in  their  quarters,  but  to 
construct  a  common  camp  in  the  fields,  otherwise  they 
were  likely  to  share  the  fate  of  their  coreligionists  in 
Medina.  But  they  replied  that  their  strongholds  were  of 
a  different  sort,  perched  on  impregnable  summits,  and 
they  remained  shut  up  within  'hem.  They  had  neither 
discipline  nor  order,  courage  nor  devotion.  As  they  were 
wanting  in  community  of  feeling,  so  also  were  they  lacking 
in  leaders.  Their  best  man,  Salim  b.  Mishkdm,  lay  on  a 
sick-bed ;  his  place  was  by  no  means  supplied  bj'  Kinina 
b.  b.  Abl  'l-Holfa<t  When  they  suddenly  became  aware 
that  they  hsid  been  completely  abandoned  by  their  Arab 
allies,  the  Ghataf An,  their  heart  utterly  failed  them.  When 
besieged  in  any  of  their  citadels,  they  hardly  ever  waited 

5  The  "  us "  is  remarkable,  and  sounds  as  if  the  treaty  hail  Wen 
dictated  by  the  Meccans. 
KJakiilu  pp.  .170,  239. 


'658 


MOHAMMEDANISM 


[MOHAilMED. 


to  be  stormed,  but  after  one  or  two  sorties  evacuated  it 
and  withdrew  to  anotlier,  where  the  same  story  was  re- 
peated. Thus  citadel  after  citadel  fell  into  the  hands  of 
Ruin  of  the  Moslems ;  treachery,  which  had  something  to  do  with 
thB  Jews,  the  surrender,  was  well-nigh  superfluous.  From  Al-NatAt 
the  Jews  were  driven  to  Al-Shikk,  and  at  last  nothing  was 
k  :t  to  them  but  Al-Katlba  (with  Al-WatOj  and  SolAlim).! 
There  they  remained  shut  up  and  filled  with  fear,  without 
even  risking,  as  formerly,  single  combats  and  skirmishes 
before  their  citadels.  After  some  time  they  asked  for 
peace,  and  obtained  it  on  the  footing  that  they  retained 
their  lives,  wives  and  children,  and  one  garment  each,  but 
gave  up  all  their  property,  the  penalty  of  concealing  any- 
thing being  death.  KinAna  b.  b.  Abl  '1-Hokaik  was  cruelly 
tortured,  and  at  last  put  to  death  because  he  had  buried 
the  renowned  jewels  of  his  family  ;  thus  at  the  same-time 
his  handsome  wife  Safiya  bint  Hoyay  was  left  free  for 
Mohammed. 

His  marriage  with  "the  daughter  of  the  king"  wound 
np  the  prosperous  campaign.  gaffya  felt  no  repulsion 
towards  the  man  who  had  caused  the  death  of  her  father 
Hoyay,  and  of  her  husband  Kindna ;  she  gi-acef ully  accom- 
modated herself  to  the  situation.  More  worthy  was  the 
demeanour  of  another  Jewess,  Zainab,  who  made  the 
attempt  to  poison  the  executioner  of  her  people,  and 
atoned  for  this  offence  by  her  deatL  The  attempt  was 
unsuccessful,  but  Mohammed  believed  that  even  in  his 
last  illness  he  could  trace  the  effects  of  the  poisoru  ^ 

Simultaneously  with  Khaibar,  Fadak  also  fell  into  his 
hands,  and  shortly  afterwards  Wadi  '1-KorA,  where  also 
there  were  settlements  of  Jews.  The  plunder  was  very 
considerable.  So  far  as  it  consisted  of  movables,  it  was 
gathered  together  into  a  heap,  and  put  up  to  auction ;  the 
proceeds  were  then  divided.  Mohammed  insisted  very 
strictly  that  no  one  should  be  permitted  to  plunder  for 
his  own  hand.  The  property  in  land,  palm  plantations, 
vegetable  gardens,  were  allowed  for  the  time  being  to 
remain  at  a  rent  in  the  hands  of  the  Jews ;  half  of  the 
produce  had  to  be  paid  to  the  new  owners.  The  lion's 
share  of  the  spoil  fell  to  the  lot  of  God,  i.e.  of  the  Prophet 
— a  fifth  of  the  movables,  of  the  real  estate  a  larger  pro- 
portion. He  con.sequently  had  at  his  command  consider- 
able material  resources,  and  he  well  knew  how  to  employ 
them,  not  only  for  the  enriclunent  of  his  family,  but  also 
for  gaining  over  to  his  side  such  individuals  as  were 
more  accessible  to  payment  than  to  principles. 

The  peace  of  Hodaibiya,  with  the  subsequent  conquest 
of  Khaibar,  closes  the  first  period  of  Mohammed's  life  at 
Medina ;  strictly  speaking,  indeed,  it  merely  confirmed  the 
status  which  in  point  of  fact  the  War  of  the  Fosse  had 
already  given  him.  If  at  first  it  seemed  as  if  Mohammed 
had  shamefully  given  way,  it  soon  became  apparent,  never- 
theless, that  the  advantage  lay  with  him.  "No  victory  of 
Islam,"  Abiibekr  was  wont  to  say,  "  has  more  importance 
than  the  treaty  of  Hodaibiya ;  men  are  always  for  hurry- 
ing things  on,  but  God  lets  them  ripen."  "Previously 
thfere  had  subsisted  a  wall  of  partition  between  the 
Moslems  and  the  rest  of  men ;  they  never  spoke  to  each 
other ;  wherever  they  met,  they  began  to  fight.  Sub- 
sequently hostility  died  down ;  security  and  mutual  con- 
Rapid  fidence  took  its  place.  Every  man  of  even  moderate  intcl- 
spread  of  li-Tence  who  heard  of  Islam  joined  it ;  in  the  twenty-two 
months  during  which  the  truce  subsisted,  the  number  of 
conversions  was  gieatcr  than  throughout  the  whole  of  the 
previous  period  ;  the  faith  diffused  itself  in  all  directions 
among  the  Arabs." 

As  a  religion  Islam  did  not  attract  the  Arabs ;  they  had 


'  Such  were  the  names  of  the  three  separate  quarters  of  Khaibar, 
CAch  ODQ  made  up  of  a  complex  of  hou^s  oud  citadels. 


no  inclination  to  pray,  reaa  the  Koran,  and  cive  alms. 
Of  this  they  had  given  sufficient  evidence  by  their  per- 
ennial feuds  with  Mohammed,  and  by  the  murder  of 
divers  of  his  missionaries  who  were  sent  to  teach  them 
the  faith.2  We  can  hardly  believe  that  a  new  spirit  now 
suddenly  possessed  them.  Their  change  of  attitude  was 
merely  due  to  the  imposing  cfi"ect  of  the  rising  might  of 
Islam.  They  began  to  respecjt  the  Moslems,  who,  in  spite 
of  their  small  numbers,  could  defy  a  whole  world,  because 
they  were  of  one  mind,  and  did  not  ask  what  the  world 
thought.  They  saw  that,  in  the  great  conflict  between 
Mecca  and  Medina,  in  which  as  actors  or  as  spectators 
they  had  all  participated,  the  victory  inclined  more  and 
more  to  the  side  of  Medina,  that  force  could  accomplish 
nothing  against  faith.  The  prestige  of  Mecca  was  shaken 
by  the  War  of  the  Fosse,  and  was  not  restored  by  the  treaty 
of  Hodaibiya,  in  which  the  Koraish  waved  Mohammed  off 
with  the  open  hand,  and  at  the  same  time  permitted  him 
to  return  next  year.  Islam  had  "  stretched  out  its  neck  " 
— had  consolidated  itself  into  indestructible  existence — 
it  now  fought  for  victory.  There  was,  moreover,  another 
argument  in  favour  of  the  new  religion,  to  which  the  Arabs 
were  very  sensible — the  rich  booty,  to  wit,  which  the 
Moslems  acquired  by  their  continusJ  forays.  There  is  no 
question  that  the  material  success  of  Islam  was  the  chief 
force  that  attracted  new  adherents. 

The  treaty  of  Hodaibiya  gave  a  breathing  space  to  the  Results 
two  combatants,  and  of  this  the  prophet  reaped  the  whole  "f  the 
advantage  The  truce,  which  lasted  for  almost  two  years,  '"i" 
brought  to  the  Meccans  an  almost  unbroken  series  of  jfjcca. 
humiliations  and  losses.  Contrary  to  all  expectation,  the 
provision  made  in  their  favour,  by  which  Mohammed 
bound  himself  to  send  back  such  of  their  sons  as  deserted 
to  him  before  their  majority,  turned  to  their  hurt,  so  that 
they  had  to  ask  Mohammed  to  have  it  changed.'  Still 
more  serious  for  them  was  the  desertion  of  three  eminent 
men,  KhAlid  b.  al-WaUd,  'Amr  b.  al-'As,  and  'Othmdn  b. 
Talha,  whom  the  Prophet  received  with  open  arms.  Next 
year  they  looked  on  with  shame  and  concealed  indignation 
when  the  Prophet,  availing  himself  of  his  stipulated  right, 
entered  the  city  with  2000  men,  and  performed  the  sacred 
ceremonies  ("Omrat  al-KadA,  March  629).  Still  they  were 
afraid  to  break  with  him  again,  and  did  not  even  venture  to 
rid  themselves  of  his  spies,  the  KhozA'a,  who  lived  in  their 
midst.  "  When  they  put  one  foot  forward  they  draw  the 
other  back ;  they  are  convinced  that  Mohammed  will 
win" — such  was  the  impression  the  Koraish  made  on  the 
Bedouins,  who  have  a  very  keen  instinct  in  matters  of 
this  sort.  They  had  lost  confidence  in  themselves ;  they 
knew  that  the  fight  was  not  fought  out,  but  they  dared 
not  seek  to  bring  it  to  a  decision. 

Against  their  vnU.  the  decision  came.  The  Bani'i  Bekr 
fell  upon  Mohammed's  friends,  the  KhozA'a,  and  were 
supported  by  some  of  their  Koraishite  allies.     The  KhozA- 


1 


'  See  Vakidi,  pp.  153-157  (Bir  Ma'iina  and  al-Raji'),  and  the  general 
view  of  these  feuds,  ibid.  p.  29  sqq. 

*  Abii  Basir  had  fled  to  Mohammed  to  Medina ;  the  Meccans  de- 
manded his  surrender.  He  was  given  u;i,  in  spite  of  his  passionate 
j*emonstrances,  to  the  two  messengcre  sent  to  fetch  him.  But  on  the 
road  he  fell  on  one  of  them  and  slew  him  with  his  own  sword ;  the 
other  hastened  bnclt  to  Medina  in  horror.  AbA  Basir  foUovcd, 
thinking  Mohammed  had  now  done  enough  to  satisfy  the  Meccans. 
Only,  however,  when  the  messenger  refused  the  charge  of  so  dangerons 
a  prisoner,  did  Mohammed  permit  the  latter  to  go  off  where  he  pleased, 
refusing  to  allow  him  to  stay  with  the  Moslems.  Accordingly  Abd 
Basir  made  for  the  coast-road  of  the  Syrian  caravans,  and  became  the 
leader  of  other  Moslem  fogitives  from  Mecca,  who  quickly  gathered 
round  him.  They  intercepted  all  caravans,  divided  the  prey,  and 
slew  the  men.  Abii  Basir's  robberies  at  length  induced  the  Meccans 
to  ask  Mohammed  by  letter  to  allow  him  to  join  his  community,  and 
so  put  an  end  to  the  miichici. —  Kakidi,  p.  261 ;  7,bn  lliihim,  p 
757  sqq. 


MOHAMMED.] 


M  O.  H  A  M  M  E  D  A  N  I  S.M 


559 


ilea  complained  to  the  Jfrophet,  who  eagerly  seized  the 
pretext  for  war.  In  vain  did  the  Mecoans  send  Abii 
Sofydn  to  Medina  to  renew  the  truce;  they  could  not 
move  the  Prophet  from  his  purpose.  In  Ramadan,  a.h.  8 
Tb»  (January  630),  he. moved  against  Mecca  with  an  army  of 
*"  "  10,000  men.  '  With  the  Emigrants  and  the  Defenders  were 
'^'^'"^  ■  mustered  the  Aslam,  GhSir,  Mozaina,  Johaina,  and 
Ashja' ;  the  Solaim  and  the  Khozi'a  joined  them  on  the 
way.  The  Bedouins  were  drawn  by  the  hope  of  booty ; 
the  Fazirite  'Oyaina  was  sorely  vexed  that  he  had  left  his 
Ghatafin  at  home,  not  knowing  what  v/aa  in  view,  for 
Mohammed  at  first  kept  the  aim  of  his  expedition  a  secret. 
Some  of  the  Meccan  nobles  must,  however,  have  known 
it ;  Makhrama  b.  Naufal,  for  example,  and  the  Prophet's 
uncle,  'Abbds,  did  not  await  the  capture  of  their  city,  but 
deserted  to  the  enemy  while  he  was  still  distant.  Abi 
Sofydn,  in  particular,  must  have  been  in  the  secret;  it 
appears  that  at  Medina  he  received  the  promise  that  the 
holy  city  should  be  spared  if  it  yielded  pacifically,  and 
that  he  pledged  himself  to  do  his  best  to  play  into  the 
hands  of  the  Prophet.*  But  before  the  populace  it  was 
necessary  to  keep  up  the  appearance  of  a  sudden  surprise, 
an  inevitable  submission  to  an  unforeseen  display  of  force. 
The  same  comedy  was  repeated  afterwards  at  fiii ;  the 
headmen  treated  with  the  Prophet  without  consulting  the 
Thakafites,  and  then  contrived  that  the  result  of  their 
policy  should  appear  to  be  forced  by  the  course  of  events. 
The  Moslems  were  on  the  border  of  the  holy  land  before 
the  Meccans  suspected  their  approach ;  then  suddenly  one 
night  10,000  fires  were  seen  rising  to  heaven  to  the  north- 
west of  the  holy  city.  In  well-feigned  surprise  Abil  SofyAn 
Conquest  hastened  to  the  hostile  camp ;  he  returned  with  the  news 
or  Mecca,  jij^j  Q^^  Moslems  were  at  the  gates,  that  an  improvised 
resistance  could  effect  nothing  against  their  force ;  the  only 
wise  course  was  a  surrender — Mohammed  had  promised 
security  to  those  who  remained  in  their  houses  or  threw 
away  their  weapons.  The  terrified  Meccans  had  hardly 
any  other  course  open  to  them  than  to  follow  this  advice. 
And  now  the  Moslems  entered  the  city  from  several  sides 
at  once,  meeting  only  at  one  point  with  an  easily  quelled 
resistance.  Mohammed  insisted  that  there  should  be  no 
violence ;  he  pledged  the  captains  to  avoid  all  bloodshed. 
Ten  persons  only  were  put  to  tho  ban,  and  of  these  onfl 
half  were  subsequently  pardoned.  He  took  all  pains  tO' 
preserve  the  sanctity  of  Mecca  unimpaired,  confirriied  the 
rights  and  privileges  therewith  connected,  and  made  it 
plain  that  the  old  cultus  should  not  be  less  flourishing 
under  Islam.  The  ceremonies  were  retained,  save  only 
that  he  abolished  all  idols,  both  the  domestic  gods  found 
in  every  house'and  the  images  in  and  round  the  Ka'ba. 
But  every  sanctuary  outside  of  Mecca  was  destroyed, 
except  siich  as  had  a  part  in  the  celebration  of  the  Feast, 
and  so  stood  in  connexion  with  the  Ka'ba  itself.  Thus 
the  Meccan  worship  gained  a  new  and  unique  importance. 
Mohammed's  reform  did  for  Mecca  what  Josiadi's  did  for 
J«rusalem.2 

The  last  step  towards  that  identification  of  the  Ka'ba 
with  Islam,  which  made  it  the  religious  centre  of  the 
Moslem  world,  was  not  taken  tUl  the  following  year,  when 
the  famous  Renunciation  (Bar4'a)  of  sur.  ix.  forbade  the 
heathen  to  share  in  the  Feast,  which  was  henceforth  to  be 
a  strictly  Moslem  ordinance,  and  at  the  same  time  abro- 
gated the  peace  of  the  holy  months.  A  year  later  (Dhii  1- 
Hijja,  A.H.  10,  March  632)  he  himself  celebrated  the  Feast 
for  the  first  time  in  the  orthodox  fashion,  introducing 
'   certain    modifications   on    the    traditional    practice   and 


*  The  tradition  indeed  is  silent,  but  Muir  (iv.  120)  is  jostif 
drawing  thij  inference  from  the  course  of  events. 

*  Ssouck-Hni^onje,  Het  Mekkaansche  Feat,  Leyden,  1880. 


reducing  certain  varieties  of  use  to  uniform  rule.  In  all 
this  he  professed  to  re-establish  the  true  ancient  use, 
purged  of  heretical  deviations  from  the  example  of- 
Abraham.  At  the  same  time  he  remodelled  the  Calendar,' 
forbidding  the  occasional  interpolation  of  a  month  as  an 
arbitrary  and  human  invention,  and  establishing  the  true 
lunar  year  of  twelve  lunations. 

We  return  to  the  capture  of  Mecca.  The  submission  of  War 
the  Koraish  was  followed  by  that  of  their  nomad  brethren  ™'"' 
and  allies.  But  the  neighbouring  Hawilzin,  to  whom  *^,"  .^"* 
belonged  also  the  Thaljafite  inhabitants  of  TAif,  assembled  ^'^"'' 
lor  battle  with  the  Moslems.  They  camped  in  Autis 
between  Taif  and  Mecca.  Mohammed  advanced  against 
them,  and  battle  was  joined  in  the  vaUey  of  Honain.  The 
Moslems  were  broken  by  the  first  charge  of  the  foe;  for  a 
moment  the  Prophet  himself  was  in  danger,  till  the  Khazraj 
rallied  round  him,  checked  the  onset  of  the  Hawixin,  and 
at  length  turned  them  to  flight.  A  vast  booty  rewarded 
the  victors ;  for  the  Hawazin  had  brought  all  their  herds 
and  non-combatants  with  them  and  placed  them  in  the 
rear,  that  they  might  feel  what  they  were  fighting  for.' 
Mohammed  caused  the  prey  to  be  conveyed  to  thb  glen  of 
Ji'rdna,  outside  the  north-west  border  of  the  Haram,  a  little 
way  off  the  great  valley  that  descends  from  T^if ;  he  him- 
self pressed  on  to  T^if  itself.  Here,  however,  he  failed  in 
his  object ;  in  a  dream  he  saw  a  cock  peck  a  hole  in  a 
bowl  of  cream  that  was  set  before  him,  so  that  the  con- 
tents ran  out.  After  fourteen  days  he  gave  up  the  siege 
and  marched  to  Ji'rAna  to  deal  with  the  booty.  He  had 
deferred  this  task  in  the  hope  that  the  HawAzin  would  be 
tempted  to  embrace  Islam  in  order  to  recover  their 
families  and  cattle.  But  as  they  still  sent  no  ambassadors, 
he  had-  to  yield  to  the  pressure  of  the  Bedouins  and  divide 
the  spoil.  When  it  was 'too  late,  the  messengers  of  the 
Hawdzin  appeared  to  announce  their  conversion ;  they 
had  now  to  give  up  their  herds,  and  content  themselves 
that  their  wives  and  children  were  restored  to  them, 
through  the  mediation  of  the  Prophet  with  their  new 
masters.  The  Bedouins  received  compensation  for  what 
they  gave  up  ;  the  Emigrants  and  Defenders  gave  up  their 
captives  freely.  Altogether  the  men  of  Medina  fared 
worst  in  the  distribution  of  booty,  though  they  had  borne 
the  brunt  of  the  conflict ;  those  who  fared  best  were  the 
nobles  of  Mecca,  who  had  no  share  in  the  fight,  but  whom 
Mohammed  desired  to  conciliate  by  gifts  (sur.  ix.  60). 

The  fall  of  Mecca  reacted  powerfully  on  the  future  Aggmn- 
development  of  Islam.  Again  the  saying  came  true :  direnieut 
victa  victoret  cep«< /^  the  victory  of  the  Moslems  over  the  ?f  "'?  . 
Koraish  shaped  itself  into  a  domination  of  the  Koraish  ' 
over  the  Moslems.  For  this  the  Prophet  himself  was.  to 
blame.  In  making  Mecca  the  Jerusalem  of  Islam,  he  was 
ostensibly  moved,  by  religious  motives ;  but  in  reality 
Mohammed's  religion  had  nothing  to  do  vrith  the 
heathenish  usages  at  the  Ka'ba  and  the  Great  Feast.  To 
represent  Abraham  as  the  founder  of  the  ritual  was  merely 
a  pious  fraud.  What  Mohammed  actually  sought,  was  to 
recommend  Islam  to  Arabic  prejudices  by  incorporating 
this  fragment  of  heathenism,  and  at  the  same  time  he  was 
influenced  by  his  local  patriotism.  Henceforth  these 
local  feelings  became  quite  the  mainspring  of  his  conduct ; 
his  attitude  to  the  Koraish  was  determined  entirely  by 
the  spirit  of  clannishness.  Hence  the  extraordinary  value 
he  set  on  the  conciUation  of  their  chiefs ;  one  gains  the 
impression  that  he  cared  more  for  this  than  for  the  con- 
version of  all  the  rest  of  the  world.  He  left  to  them  all 
that  they  already  had ;  he  gave  them  in  addition  whatever 
they  asked,  if  only  they  would  be  his  good  friends.  Abii 
Sofydn  was  a  great  man  already,  but  Mohammed  hastened 


*  Among  them  were  relatives  of  the  Prophet's  foster-mother,  Haliffla. 


jGO 


M  O  II  A  :\I  :»I  E  D  A.  K  ISM 


[mohammedJ 


to  raise  his  power  by  giTin;;;  I. Pin  rule  over  a  t/roaJ  tract 
southward  from  Mecca.  He  used  every  means  to  make 
th':ir  conversion  easy  to  the  Koraish,  and  to  convince  them 
that  they  were  losing  little  and  gaining  much.  They  liad 
the  sense  to  understand  this'  and  act  accordingly ;  they 
were  soon  the  best  of  Moslems,  and  that  for  the  best 
practical  reasons. 

The  men  of  Medina,  as  wa-s  natural,  felt  thetnselves 
slighted  in  a  special  degree  by  this  petting  of  the  Koraish. 
They  had  done  all  and  sacrificed  all  for  the  Prophet;  were 
others  now  to  reap  the  fruit  of  their  labours  1  Had  thoy 
by  years  of  struggle  made  Moliammed  Lord  '«f  Mecca, 
only  that  they  might  surrender  in  favour  of  Mecca  the 
place  they  had  hitherto  held  t  Did  he  indeed  esteem  kin- 
ship so  much  more  than  tried  service  to  the  Faith  I  The 
Defenders  had  good  ground  for  discontent,  but  Mohammed 
appeased  them  easily  enough.  He  rcmiuded  them  of 
their  fellowship  together  in  the  great  days  of  the  past,  of 
all  that  he  had  done  for  them,  and  they  for  him ;  he 
Ijromised  that  their  town  should  still  be  his  residence, 
and  so  the  political  capital  of  Islam  (Madinat  al-IslAm). 
Then  all  the  men  wept  till  their  beards  were  wet,  and 
said  :  "  O  apostle  of  God,  we  are  content  with  our  share 
and  lot ! " 
Yna  The  Defenders  murmured  at  the  preference  shown  to 

Khdri-  the  Koraish,  because  they  desired  preference  for  them- 
jit'js.  selves.  But  already  there  were  movements  of  an  opposi- 
tion from  principle  which  deemed  it  a  falling  away  from 
Islam  to  give  ;iny  heed  to  kinship  instead  of  to  faith.  It 
is  related  that  the  beginnings  of  the  Khilrijites  (Dis.senters) 
go  back  to  the  distribution  of  booty  in  W.  Ji'rAna.' 
Certain  it  is  that  a  worldly  bias,  which  had  indeed  been 
introduced  into  I.slam  long  before,  then  first  became 
visible  to  every  eye.  Certain  it  is  that  Mohammed  then 
sowed  the  seeds  of  the  deep  dissensions  that  rent  his 
following  after  his  death — of  the  struggle  between  religious 
democracy,  such  as  Islam  demanded,  and  the  national 
aristocracy,  which  alone  was  really  fit  to  hold  rule  in 
Arabia.  It  was  Mohammed  who  placed  the  helm  in  the 
hands  of  the  Koraish  and  opened  the  way  to  sovereignty 
for  Abu  Sofy'in  and  his  house,  the  Omayyads.  If  the 
KhArijite  Dhu  '1-khowaisira  spoke  out  against  the  Prophet 
himself  at  JiVana,  the  feeling  that  moved  him  was  cjuite 
sound. 

The  last  years  of  the  Prophet  were  like  the  ingathering 
of  a  harvest  laboriously  reaped.  The  conquest  of  Mecca, 
so  great  was  the  impression  it  produced,  w"as  called  "  fJie 
Conquest,"  as  if  it  contained  in  itself  all  otherii.  From 
Conver-  every  side,  in  the  next  two  year.%  the  sheikhs  streamed  to 
eiui  of  Medina  to  open  negotiations  for  the  acceptance  of  Islam 
A'-aWfk  jjy  tjjgij.  tribes ;  if  they  did  not  come  spontaneously, 
Mohammed  sent  to  them.  A  change  of  heart  on  the  part 
of  the  Arabs  had  no  more  share  in  these  than  in  former 
conversions.  It  cost  them  no  struggle  to  cast  away  their 
idols ;  the  images  and  the  .sanctuaries  i'ell  quietly  enough. 
Heathenism  was  a  dead  thing ;  superstitions  could  be 
transplanted  into  Islam.  The  unique  sovereignty  of 
AU.'lh  Avas  clearly  evidenced  in  the  fact  that  no  might 
could  withstand  his.  It  is  safe  to  afiirra  that  the  acces- 
sions to  Islam  were  due  to  political  more  than  religious 
impulses,  and  meant  adherence  to  the  stale  of  Medina 
rather  than  to  monotheism.  The  power  to  which  that 
city  had  grown,  acted  as  a  force  of  attraction  upon  the 
Arabs ;  and  their  subjection  was  not  the  mere  efi'ect  of 
fear,  but  expressed  also  that  sense  of  the  necessity  for 
peace  and  order,  which  had  led  to  the  foimding  of  states 
in  the  two  previous  centuries.  Thus  it  becomes  intelligible 
that  from  every  side,  by  a  sort  of  natural  necessity,  the 


'   Vuhidi,  p.  377.     Ibn  Hisl,ani,  p.  884. 


masses  of  Arabian  society  were  drawn  towards  the  centre 
of  attraction  at  >Iedina,  and  that  the  Prophet  received 
the  homage  of  distant  tribes  which  he  could  not  have 
influenced  directly.  The  Christian  tribes  were  not  behind 
the  rest,  they  were  Arabs  first  and  Christiai/S  after. 
Oidy  the  Christians  of  Najran  remained  true  to  their 
ftdth ;  so  did  the  Jews  in  all  parts,  and  the  Magians  in 
the  province  of  Baljrain."  The  last  named,  as  idolaters, 
ought  not  in  strictness  to  have  been  tolerated  in  the 
^Moslem  state ;  but  practical  considerations  broke  through 
theory,  and  the  men  of  system  had  to  accept  the  incon- 
sistency with  the  best  grace  they  could. 

The  signs  of  submission  were — (1)  the  performance  of 
the  five  daily  prayers,  or  at  le^st  the  proclamation  of  the 
times' of  prayer  by  the  Muedhdhin ;  (2)  the  payment  of 
the  alms-tax ;  ^  (3)  the  acceptance  of  the  Moslem  Law, 
which  was  introduced  by  qualified  delegates  from  Medina. 
Otherwise  things  remained  ss  they  were ;  Mohammed  was 
careful  not  to  meddle  with  tribal  afiairs,  and  strengthened 
the  existing  aristocracies  wherever  he  could  do  so.  The 
change  of  faith  was  eftected  by  treaty ;  the  populace  was 
not  consulted,  and  the  whole  negotiations  were  directed 
by  the  Elders  and  Chiefs.  For,  in  fact,  purely  political 
interests  were  involved. 

A  single  case,  about  which  our  information  is  exception-  Tail 
ally  full,  will  suffice  in  illustration.  The  HawAzin  had 
joined  Mohammed  after  the  battle  of  Hcmain,  and  now 
preached  the  dutj'  of  holy  warfare  agoinst  their  kinsmen, 
the  Thakafites  of  Taif,  who  were  still  heathens.  Tliey 
made  raids  on  tlif'  cattle  pastured  without  the  cit_T,  and 
made  captives  of  those  who  ventm-ed  abroad.  The  Thal>a- 
fites  were  exposed,  alone  and  helpless,  to  the  advances  of 
Islam  ;  they  dared  not  stir  a  foot  beyond  their  walls.  The 
heads  of  the  city  found  the  situation  untenable,  and 
resolved  to  do  homage  to  the  Prophet  for  the  sake  of 
peace.  Ten  ambas,sadors  proceeded  to  Medina,  and  nego- 
tiations began  as  to  the  conditions  of  the  conversion  of  the 
ThaVif.  The  envoys  desired  that  fornication,  usury,  and 
wine-drinking  should  be  permitted  to  them  ;  this  Moham- 
med refused  (sur.  xvii.  234  ;  ii.  278 ;  v.  92) ;  and  they 
consented  to  yield  the  point  when  it  was  explained  that, 
indispensable  as  these  three  practices  might  seem,  the 
other  Moslems  had  learned  to  give  them  up.  There  was 
more  difficulty  about  the  Rabba  or  Goddess  of  T'lif  (al- 
Lit).  The  ambassadors  begged  that,  as  a  concessiou  ,to 
the  foolish  multitude,  they  might  retain  her  for  three  years. 
Wliou  they  found  Mohammed  resolute,  they  came  down 
successively  to  two  years,  one  year,  and  a  month.  Even 
this  T.MS  refused ;  Mohammed's  sole  concession  was  tliat 
they  should  not  be  obliged  to  destroy  their  goddess  witli 
their  own  hands.  The  deputation  retm'ned,  and  had  nearly 
reached  TAif,  when  'Abdyalil  counselled  the  othera  to  make 
as  if  they  had  broken  off  the  negotiation,  and  not  to  con- 
fess the  conclusion  of  the  pact  till  the  Thalfif  showed  no 
stomach  for  battle  with  Mohamm.cd.  With  faces  covered, 
like  men  who  have  no  good  news,  they  rode  into  the  tovra, 
and  first  paid  the  customary  visit  to  the  temple  of  the 
Rabba.  Then  they  told  their  tribesmen  the  conditions  of 
treaty,  declared  them  intolerable,  and  reviled  Jlohanimcd 
as  a  hard  and  arrogant  man.  "And  so,"  they  concluded, 
"  pre)mro  for  war,  lay  in  provisions  for  two  years ; 
Mohammed  will  surely  not  maintain  the  siege  longer ; 
dig  a  fosse  to  protect  your  stronghold,  and  lose  no  time." 
Tiie  Thal.cafitc3  at  first  agieed  to  this  ;  but  in  a  few  days 
they  lost  courage,  and  bade  the  negotiators  return  and 
accept  the  conditions.     These  then  confessed  the  truth, 


=*  Non-Mof.lcra  subjects  were  m.tde  to  p.iy  nu  nrbitrary  cajiitntion  or 
incciiic  tax. 

'  Tlie  cxponiliture  of  this  tax  was  regulated  in  tbe  case  of  som« 
tribes  by  ?i«*einl  treaty. 


^OHAKKKD.] 


MOHAMMEDANISM 


561 


'•ad  added  that  Mohammed's  emissaries  would  presently 
appear  to  destroy  the  Rabba.  The  destruction  took  place 
accordingly,  to  the  terror  of  the  women  and  children,  but 
without  a  single  man  raising,  his  hand. 

The  pilgrimage  undertaken  by  Mohammed  in  the. year 
It)  (March  632)  was  like  a  very  triumph.  All  Arabia, 
apart  from  the  vassals  of  Persia  and  Greece,  lay  at  his  feet, 
^e  greatest  success  of  his  life  had  been  effected  by  sheer 
moral  force  without  a  stroke  of  the  sword.  But  Arabia 
no  longer  sufficed  him ;  he  had  wider  aims.     In  his  last 

War        years  he  began  to  extend  th^  holy  war  against  the  Greeks. 

<rtth  the  Even  on  his  return  from  Hodaibiya,  he  began  to  direct 
envoys  to  several  foreign  potentates,  with  letters  demand- 
ing their  adhesion  to  Islam.  One  of  these  envoys  was 
seized  and  beheaded  in  the  Belk&  (the  ancient  Moab). 
Hence  sprang  the  first  campaign  against  the  Greeks,  i.e. 
the  Arabs  who  were  subject  to  the  Greek  empire.  The 
array  directed  against  them  was,  however,  entirely  defeated 
at  Mu'ta  (Autumn  629);  Khilid  succeeded  with  difficulty 
in  rallying  and  leading  back  the  broken  remnant  of  the 
host.  Next  summer  the  Nabatseans  who  visited  the  mar- 
ket of  Medina  spread  a  rumour  that  the  Emperor  Heraclius 
■was  collecting  a  vast  force  to  attack  the  Moslems;  and 
Mohammed  set  forth  to  meet  him  at  the  head  of  30,000 
men,  but  got  no  farther  than  Tabiik,  on  the  southern 
borders  of  ancient  Edom,  when  the  rumour  was  found  to 
be  false.  The  expedition,  however,  was  not  altogether 
fruitless,  as  it  led  to  the  submission  of  several  small  Jewish 
and  (Christian  communities  in  the  north  of  the  Peninsula. 
Mohammed  equipped  a  new  expedition  against  the  Greeks 
on  his  return  from  his  "farewell  pilgrimage,"  and  it  was 

Death     just  ready  to  start  when  he  died,  on  Monday,  8th  June 

of  Mo-    632. 

natomed.  jjj  forming  an  estimate  of  one  who  has  exercised  so 
unexampled  an  influence  on  the  history  of  the  world,  we 
shall  do  well  to  bear  in  mind  the  hint  of  Gibbon,  that 
"  some  reverence  is  surely  due  to  the  fame  of  heroes  and 
the  religion  of  nations."  The  grounds  on  which  Mohammed 
may  be  condemned  are  partly  found  in  his  private  life. 
Although  on  the  whole,  even  after  he  had  become  ruler  of 
all  Arabia,  he  maintained  the  original  poverty  and  simplicity 
of  his  establishment,  never  set  store  by  money  and  estate, 
eating  and  drinking  and  soft  clothing,  strictly  continued 
to  fast  and  watch  and  pray  after  his  first  fashi'^n,  and  that, 
too,  plainly  out  of  a  heartfelt  need  and  without  any  osten- 
tation, he  nevertheless  in  one  point  at  least  used  his  supreme 
authority  as  prophet  to  make  provision  for  the  flesh.  He 
claimed  to  be  personally  exempt  from  those  restrictions  in 
regard  to  the  female  sex  which  lay  upon  all  other  Moslems, 
and,  as  is  well  known,  he  made  very  extensive  application 
of  this  fundamental  principle.  This  fact  is  quite  rightly 
urged  against  him  as  a  reproach ;  even  pious  Moslems  have 
been  scandalised  by  it.  At  the  same  time,  it  is  unnecessary 
to  judge  him  on  this  account  more  harshly  than  we  do 
Charlemagne,  the  most  Christian  king  of  the  Franks ;  in 
any  case  we  must  not  apply  the  standards  of  the  present 
day  to  the  circumstances  of  old  Arabia.  Of  much  weightier 
and  indeed  of  crushing  character  is  the  accusation,  that  he 
did  not  really  believe  himself  to  be  a  prophet,  but  merely 
of  set  purpose  played  the  part  of  one.  For  the  first  years 
of  lus  activity  indeed  this  charge  is  not  now  any  longer 
maintained  ;  it  is  universally  granted  that  at  that  period 
his  enthusiasm  was  genuine  and  real  But  in  Medina,  we 
are  told,  he  used  his  prophetic  character  simply  as  a  pretext 
,  for  the  establishment  of  his  power.  It  seems  to  the  present 
writer  that  into  this  opinion  there  enter  modem  notions  as 
to  the  separation  between  religion  and  the  civil  magistracy, 
which  ought  to  be  carefully  kept  out  of  sight.  By  any 
other  instrumentality  than  that  of  a  prophet  it  would 
hardly  have  been  possible  to  found  the  slate  of  Medina ; 

Its— 21 


religion  was  the  soul  of  the  community.  The  founding  of 
a  religion  and  the  forming  of  a  state  were  not  connected 
in  80  merely  external  a  way  as  is  usually  supposed  ;  on  the 
contrary,  the  one  was  the  natural  and  necessary  consequence  . 
of  the  other.  This  must  certainly  be  conceded,^hat,  if  Wft 
are  to  make  anj  distinctions  at  all,  Islam  was  far  less  rich 
in  religious  meaning  than  in  social  forces.  The  Koran  i» 
Mohammed's  weakest  performance ;  the  weight  of  his 
historical  importance  lies  in  his  work  at  Medina  and  not 
in  that  at  Mecca.  And  it  is  a  fact  that  the  politician  ia 
him  outgrew  the  prophet  more  and  more,  and  that  in  inany 
cases  where  he  assigned  spiritual  motives  he  merely  did  so- 
to  give  a  fair  appearance  to  acts  that  emanated  fronusecular 
regards.  In  this  respect  it  appears  to  us  particularly 
objectionable  that  he  gave  out  as  revelations  of  God  and 
placed  in  the  Koran  aU  sorts  of  regulations  and  orders  of 
the  day,  which  proceeded  simply  from  his  own. deliberations' 
or  even  in  part  were  suggested  to  Iii'tti  by  advisers  from' 
outside.  At  the  same  time  the  element  of  self -.deception 
is  not  excluded  even  here;  he  took  for  a  message  sent 
down  from  heaven  everything  which  in  his  cataleptic  fits 
passed  through  his  mind,  however  close  might  be  its  agree- 
ment with  his  own  previously  cherished  thoughts.  It  was 
pardonable  that  he  went  on  with  the  idea  after  he  had 
once  grasped  it,  that  he  blew  upon  the  coals  when  the  flame 
threatened  to  die  out.  It  ia  less  easy  to  free  him  from  the 
reproach  of  perfidy  and  cruel  vindictiveness.  The  surprise 
of  Nakhla  in  the  month  Bajab  (ordered  by  him,  though  he 
afterwards  repudiated  it),  the  numerous  assassinations 
which  he  instigated,  the  execution  of  the  600  Jews  at  the 
close  of  the  War  of  the  Fosse,  burden  the  Prophet  heavily, 
and  sufficiently  explain  the  widespread  antipathy  in  which 
he  is  held.  Yet  even  in  this  respect  it  is  well  not  to  forget 
the  instance,  already  cited,  of  Charlemagne.  It  is  precisely 
the  man  of  vast  aims  who  finds  it  most  difficult  to  keep  the 
beaten  path. 

After  the  death  of  Mohammed  arose  the  question  who  was 
to  be  his  "representative"  (Khalifa,  Caliph).  The  choice  lay 
with  the  community  of  Medina ;  so  much  was  understood  ; 
but  whom  were  they  to  choose  t  The  natives  of  Medina 
believed  themselves  to  be  now  once  more  masters  in  their 
own  house,  and  wished  to  promote  one  of  themselves. 
But  the  Emigrants  asserted  their  opposing  claims,  and 
with  success,  having  brought  into  the  town  a  considerable 
number  of  outside  Moslems,'  so  as  to  terrorize  the  men  of 
Medina,  who  besides  were  still  divided  into  two  parties.' 
The  Emigrants'  leading  spirit  was  'Omar ;  he  did  not, 
however,  cause  homage  to  be  paid  to  himself  but  to  AbAlick 
Ab\ibekr,  the  friend  and  father-in-law  of  the  Prophet.  Colipk. 

The  affair  would  not  have  gone  on  so  smoothly,  had  no'  Eevolt 
the  opportune  defection  of  the  Arabians  put  a  stop  to  the  "'  *^»« 
inward  schism  which  threatened.     Islam  suddenly  found  '^""'• 
itself  once  more  limited  to  the  community  of  Medina; 
only  Mecca  and  T^if  remained  true.     The  Bedouins  were 
willing  enough  to  pray,  indeed,  but  less  willing  to  pay  taxes ; 
their  defection,  as  might  have  been  expected,  was  a  political) 
movement.'     None  the  less  was  it  a  revolt  from  Islam,  for 
here  the  political  society  and  the  religious  are  identicaL 
A  peculiar  compliment  to  Mohammed  was  involved  in  tha 
fact  that  the  leaders  of  the  rebellion  in  the  various  districts 
did  not  pose  as  princes  and  kings,  but  as  prophets ;  in  this 
the  secret  of  Islam's  success  appeared  to  Lie. 

Abilbekr  proved  himself  quite  equal  to  the  perilous 
situation.  In  the  first  place,  he  allowed  the  expedition 
against  the  Greeks,  already  arranged  by  Mohammed,  quietly 
to  set  out,  limiting  himself  for  the  time  to  the  defence  of 
Medina.     On  the  return  of   the  army  he  proceeded  to 


•  Compare  Muir,  iv.  253. 

'  See  Noldeke,  Beitr/tge  mr  Kenntniss  dcr  Pocsie  der  aiten  Areiber 
(1S64),  p.  89  tq. 


562 


MOHAMMEDANISM 


[ths  first 


attack  the  rebels.  The  holy  spirit  of  Islam  kept  the  men 
of  Medina  together,  and  inflamed  them  to  a  death-defying 
zeal  for  the  faith  ;  while,  on  the  other  side,  the  Arabs  as  a 
whole  had  no  other  bond  of  union  and  no  better  source  of 
Defi  »!  inspiration  than  universal  egoism.  As  was  to  be  expected, 
rebela  ^''^^  ""^^^  worsted;  eleven  small  flying  columns  of  the 
Moslems,  sent  out  in  various  directions,  sufficed  to  quell 
the  revolt.  Those  who  submitted  were  forthwith  received 
back  into  favour ;  those  who  persevered  in  rebellion  were 
punished  with  death.  The  majority  accordingly  converted, 
the  obstinate  were  extirpated.  In  YamAma  only  was 
there  a  severe  struggle ;  the  Banil  Hanifa  under  their 
prophet  Mosailima  fought  bravely,  but  here  also  Islam 
triumphed. 

The  internal  consolidation  of  Islam  in  Arabia  was, 
ifetrange  to  say,  brought  about  by  its  diffusion  abroad. 
■The  holy  war  against  the  border  countries  which  Mohammed 
lad  already  inaugurated,  was  the  best  means  for  making 
the  new  religion  popular  among  the  Arabs ;  for,  in  spread- 
ing by  means  of  the  sword  the  worship  of  Allih,  oppor- 
tunity was  at  the  same  time  afforded  for  gaining  rich 
booty.  This  vast  movement  was  organized  by  Islam,  but 
the  masses  were  induced  to  join  it  by  quite  other  than 
religious  motives.  Nor  was  this  by  any  means  the  first 
occasion  on  which  the  Arabian  caldron  had  overflowed ; 
once  and  again  in  former  times  emigrant  swarms  of 
Bedouins  had  settled  on  the  borders  of  the  wilderness. 
This  had  last  happened  in  consequence  of  the  events 
which  destroyed  the  prosperity  of  the  old  Sabiean  king- 
dom. At  that  time  the  small  Arabian  kingdoms  of 
Ghassin  and  Hira  had  arisen  in  the  western  and  eastern 
borderlands  of  cultivation  ;  these  ntm  presented  to  Moslem 
conquest  its  nearest  and  natural  goal.  But  inasmuch  as 
Hira  was  subject  to  the  Persians,  and  Eastern  Palestine  to 
the  Greeks,  the  annexation  of  the  Arabians  involved  the 
extension  of  the  war  beyond  the  limits  of  Arabia  to  & 
struggle  with  the  two  great  powers. 
KhAlid  ia  After  the  subjugation  of  Middle  and  North-Eastem 
oynu.  Arabia,  KhAlid  b.  al-Walld  proceeded  by  order  of  the 
Caliph  to  the  conquest  of  the  districts  on  the  lower 
Euphrates.  Thence  he  was  summoned  to  Syria,  where 
hostilities  had  also  broken  out.  Damascus  fell  late  in  the 
summer  of  635,  and  on  20th  August  636  the  great  decisive 
battle  on  the  Hieromax  (Yarmilk)  was  fought,  which  caused 
the  Emperor  Heraclius  finally  to  abandon  Syria.'  Left  to 
themselves,  the  Christians  henceforward  defended  them- 
selves only  in  Lsolated  cases  in  the  fortified  cities  ;  for  the 
most  part  they  witnessed  the  disappearance  of  the  Byzan- 
tine power  without  regret.  Meanwhile  the  war  was  also 
carried  on  against  the  Persians  in  'Ir.^k,  unsuccessfully  at 
BSitia  first,  until  the  tide  turned  at  the  battle  of  KAdislya  (end 
i>f  KA  of  637).  In  consequence  of  the  defeat  which  they  here 
""J"*-  sustained,  the  Persians  were  forced  to  abandon  the  western 
portion  of  their  empire  and  limit  themselves  to  Eran 
proper.  The  Moslems  made  themselves  masters  of  Ctesi- 
phon  (Maddin),  the  residence  of  the  Sasanides  on  the 
Tigris,  and  conquered  in  the  immediately  following  years 
Ithe  country  of  the  two  rivers.  In  639  the  armies  of 
Syria  and  "Irik  were  face  to  face  in  Mesopotamia.  In  a 
short  time  they  had  taken  from  the  Aryans  all  the  prin- 
cipal old  Semitic  lands,— Palestine,  Syria,  Mesopotamia, 
Arar  m  Assyria,  and  Babylonia.  To  these  was  soon  added  Egypt, 
Egypt,  which  'Amt  b.  al-'As,  aided  by  the  national  and  confessional 
antipathies  of -the  Copts  towards  the  Greeks,  overran  with 
litUo  trouble  in  641.^  This  completed  the  circle  of  the 
lands   bordering   on   the   wilderness   of   Arabia ;    within 


'  Do  Oocjf,  ilinwiTes  d'Hisl.  el  de  Oiog:  Orient.,  No.  3.     Lcy'J*". 
1864  :  NUUieka,  D.  M.  Z.,  187C,  p.  78  aqq.:  Beladhori,  137. 
•     •  See  H.  Zo'puberg  in  Journ.  at.,  18/ »  (xiU.  2»l-386).^  The  date 
*•  oerhf--"  som."  to<-»  too  ktOh 


these  limits  annexation  was  practicable  and  natural,  a 
repetition  indeed  of  what  had  often  previously  occurred. 
The  kingdoms  of  Ghassdn  and  Hira,  advanced  posts 
hitherto,  now  became  the  headquarters  of  the  Arabs ;  the 
new  empire  had  its  centres  on  the  one  hand  at  Damascuaj' 
on  the  other  hand  at  Cufa  and  Basra,  the  two  newly 
founded  cities  in  the  region  of  old  Babylonia.  The 
capital  of  Islam  continued  indeed  for  a  while  to  be  Medina, 
but  soon  the  Hijdz  and  the  whole  of  Arabia  proper  lay 
quite  on  the  outskirt  of  affairs. 

It  is  striking  to  notice  how  easily  the  native  populations 
of  the  conquered  districts,  exclusively  or  prevailingly 
Christian,  adapted  themselves  to  the  new  rule.  Their 
nationality  had  been  broken  long  ago,  but  intrinsically 
it  W£is  more  closely  allied  to  the  Arabian  than  to  the 
Greek  or  Persian.  Their  religious  sympathy  with  the 
West  was  seriously  impaired  by  dogmatic  controversies; 
from  Islam  they  might  at  any  rate  hope  for  toleration, 
even  though  their  views  were  not  in  accordance  with  the 
theology  of  the  Emperor  of  the  day.  The  lapse  of  the 
masses  from  Christendom  to  Islam,  however,  which  tooB 
place  during  the  first  century  after  the  conquest,  is  only  to 
be  accounted  for  by  the  fact  that  in  reality  they  had  no 
inward  relation  to  the  gospel  at  all.  They  changed  theii" 
creed  in  order  to  acquire  the  rights  and  privileges  o6 
Moslem  citizens.  In  no  case  were  they  compelled  to  do 
so ;  on  the  contrary,  the  Omayyad  CaUphs  saw  with  dis' 
pleasure  the  diminishing  proceeds  of  the  poll-tax  derived 
from  their  Christian  subjects. 

It  would  have  been  a  great  aavantage  for  the  solidity 
of  the  Arabian  empire  if  it  had  confined  itself  within  the 
limits  of  those  old  Semitic  lands,  with  perhaps  the  addition 
of  Egypt.  But  the  Persians  were  not  so  ready  as  the  Conqu'** 
Greeks  to  give  up  the  contest ;  they  did  not  rest  until  the  "'  ^f"- 
Moslems  had  subjugated  the  whole  of  the  Sasanid  empire. 
The  most  important  event  in  the  protracted  war  which  led 
'to  the  conquest  of  Eran,  was  the  battle  of  NehAwend  in 
641 ;'  the  most  obstinate  resistance  was  offered  by  Persia 
proper,  and  especially  by  the  capital,  Istakhr  (Persepolis). 
In  the  end,  all  the  numerous  and  somewhat  autonomous 
provinces  of  the  Sasanid  empire  fell,  one  after  the  other, 
into  the  hands  of  the  Moslems,  and  the  young  Shahanshah, 
Yezdegerd,  was  compelled  to  retire  to  the  farthest  corner  of 
his  realm,  where  he  came  to  a  miserable  pnd.*  But  in  mora 
than  one  case  the  work  of  conquest  had  to  bo  done  over 
again  :  it  was  long  before  the  Eranians  learned  to  accept  the 
situation.  Unlike  the  Christians  of  Western  Asia,  they 
had  a  vigorous  feeling  of  national  pride,  based  upon 
glorious  memories  Qud  fispecially  upon  a  church  having  a 
connexion  of  the  closest  kind  with  the  state.  Internal 
disturbances  of  a  religious  and  political  character  and 
external  disasters  had  long  ago  shattered  the  empire  of 
the  Sasanids  indeed,  but  the  Eranians  had  not  yet  lost 
their  patriotism.  They  were  fighting,  in  fact,  against  the 
desjiised  and  hated  Arabs,  in  defence  of  their  holiest  pos- 
sessions, their  nationality,  and  their  faith.  They  were 
subjugated,  but  their  subjection  was  only  outward.  The 
commonwealth  of  Islam  never  succeeded  in  assimilating 
them  as  the  Syrian  Christians  were  assimilated.  Even 
when  in  process  of  time  they  did  accept  the  religion  of 
the  Prophet,  they  leavened  it  thoroughly  with  their  own 
peculiar  leaven,  and,  especially,  deprived  it  of  the  practical 
political  and  national  character  which  it  had  assumed  after 
the  Flight  to  Jlcdina.  To  the  Arabian  state  they  were 
always  a  thorn  in  the  flesh,  it  was  they  who  helped  rnosi 
largely  to  break  up  its  internal  order,  and  it  was  fronJ 
them  also  that  it  at  last  received  its  outward  deathblow, 


i! 


'  The  occoiints  diffor  ;  see  Bel.idhori,  305.     Tie  chronolog;)-  of  thi 
conquests,  ft3  is  wcti  known,  is  in  ni-iny  points  uncertaiji. 
*  Beladh.,  315  tq.  ;  TaUnri,  L  1068. . 


MOHAMMEDANISM 


i>G3 


The  fall  ot  the  Oma/yads  >ra3  their  \roik,  iixd  with  the 
Omayyads  fall  the  Arabian  empire.  The  course  of  Islam's 
political  history  during  its  first  centuries  is  denoted  by  the 
removal  of  th  -,  capital  from,  Damasctis  to  Cafa,  and  from 
(Ma  to  Baghdid,  the  latter  occupying,  approximately,  the 
site  of  the  ancient  Ctesiphon. 

But  we  must  return  to  the  period  of  Al-  'tiejir.  Jde  oied 
after  a  short  reign,  on  22d  August  634,  dua  ^■i  matter  of 
course  was  succeeded  by  'Omar.  To  'Omar's  ten  years' 
Caliphate  belong  for  the  most  part  the  great  conquests. 
He  himself  did  cot  take  the  field,  but  remained  in  Medina ; 
he  never,  hoT?ever,  suffered  the  reins  to  slip  from  his  grasp, 
ao  powerful  WiS  tJie  influence  of  his  personality  and  the 
Moslem  commimity  of  feeling.  His  political  insight  ia 
shown  by  the  circumstance  that  he  endeavouied  to  limit 
the  indefinite  extension  of  Moslem  conque-it,  and  to  main- 
tain and  strengthen  the  national  Arabian  cii^.racter  of  the 
commonwealt;!  of  Islam ;  *  also  by  his  making  it  his  fore- 
most task  to  promote  law  and  order  in  its  internal  affairs. 
The  saying  with  which  he  began  his  reign  will  never  grow 
antiquated :  '■  By  God,  Ije  that  is  weakest  among  you  shall 
bo  in  my  sight  the  strongest,  until  I  have  vindicated  for 
him  his  rights ;  but  him  that  is  strongest  will  I  treat  as 
the  weakest,  until  he  complies  with  the  la^vs."  It  would 
be  impossible  to  give  a  better  general  definition  of  the 
function  of  the  State.  ^  After  the  adminLstration  of  justice 
he  directed  his  organizing  activity,  as  -the  circumstances 
demanded,  chiefly  towards  financial  questions — the  incidence 
of  taxation  in  the  conquered  territories,^  and  the  applica^ 
tion.  of  the  vast  resources  which  poured  into  tbe  treasury 
at  Medina.  It  must  not  be  brought  against  him  as  a 
personal  reproach,  that  in  dealing  with  these  he  acted  on 
the  principle  that  the  Moslems  were  the  chartered  plun- 
derers of  all  the  rest  of  the  world.  But  he  had  to  atone 
by  his'  death  for  the  fault  of  his  system ;  a  workman  at 
Cufa,  driven  to  desperation  by  absurd  fiscal  oppressions, 
.stabbed  him  in  thp  mosque  at  Medina.  He  died  in  the 
beginning  of  November  6ii. 

IMore  his.death  'Omar  had  nominated  six  of  the  leading 
Emigrants  who  should  choose  the  Caliph  from  among  them- 
scives— 'Othmin,  'All,  Zobair,  Talba,  Sa'd  b.  Abl  Walfki?, 
and  'Abd  al-RahmAn  b.  'Auf .  The  last  named  declined  to  be 
candidate,  and  decided  the  election  in  favour  of  'Othm4n  b. 
'Affan.  Under  this  weak  sovereign  the  government  of  Islam 
fell  entirely  into  the  hands  of  the  Koraish  nobility.  We 
havci  already  seen  that  Mohammed  himself  prepared  the  way 
for  this  transference;  Abiibekr  and  'Omar  likewise- helped 
it ;  the  Emigrants  -yeise  unanimous  among  themselves  in 
tluaking  that  the  precedence  and  leadership  belonged  to 
thorn  as  of  right.  Thanks  to  the  energy  of  Omar,  they 
■we;-o  successful  in  appropriating  to  themselves  the  succes- 
siOi!  to  the  Prophet.  They  indeed  rested  the  claims  they 
puo  forward  in  the  undeniable  priority  of  their  services  to 
tie  faith,  but  they  also  appealed  to  their  blood  relationship 
witli  the  Prophet,  as  a  legitimation  of  their  right  to  the 
inheritance;  and  the  ties  of  blood  connected  them  with 
the  Koraish  in  general  In  point  of  fact  they  felt  a 
greater  solidarity  with  these  than,  for  example,  -with  the 
natives  of  Medina ;  nature  had  not  been  expelled  by 
faith.'  The  supremacy  of  the  Emigrants  naturally  fur- 
liished  the  means  of  transition  to  the  supremacy  of  the 


'  He  songht  to  make  the  whole  nition  a  greot  host  of  God ;  the 
Aiobs  were  to  bo  soldiers  and  nothing  else.  They  were  forbidden  to 
ecqi'.ire  landed  eatates  in  the  conqnered  countries ;  all  land  was  either 
mode  state  property  or  was  restored  to  the  old  owners  subject  to  a 
perpetual  tribute  which  provided  pay  on  a  splendid  scale  for  the  army. 

•  Noldeko,  Tabari,  2i6.  To  'Omar  also  is  due  the  estaWishnient  of 
thoEraof  the  Flight. 

'  Even  in  the  list  of  the  plain  at  the  battle  of  Honain  the  Emigrants 
lire  enumerated  alo"^  with  tha  Mtccans  and  Koraish,  and  disitngui^hed 
from  tlw  men  of  ?decUn.<i, 


Meccan  ariatocracy.  AJthmaii  did  a!!  in  his  po-w*r to 
press  forward  this  development  of  affairs.  He  belonged 
to  the  foremost  family  of  Mecca,  the  Omayyads,  and  thaJ 
he  should  favour  his  relations  and  the  Koraish  as' a  whola 
in  every  possible  vray,  seemed  to  him  a  matter  of  course. 
Every  position  of  iciiuence  and  emolument  was  assigned 
to  them ;  they  themselves  boastingly  called  the  import^! 
province  of  'Irrik  th4  garden  t)f  Koraish.  In  truth,  the 
entire  empire  had  become  that  gardei!  Nor  was  it 
unreasonable  that  from  the  secularization  ~of  Islam  the 
chief  advantage  should  be  reaped  by  those  -who  best  knew 
the  world.  Such  were  beyond  all  doubt  the  patricians  of 
Mecca,  and  after  them  those  of  T^if)  people  like  Khilid  b. 
al-WaUd,  'Amr  b..  al-'As,  'AbdaUAh  b.  AbX  Sarh,  Moghira 
b.  Sho'ba,  and,  above  all,  old  Abii  Sofydn  With  his  spn 
Mo'a-iviya,  the  governor  .of  Syria. 

Against  the  rising  tide  of  worldliness  an  opposition, 
however,  now  began  to  appear.  It  ivas  led  by  what  may 
be  called  the  spiritual  noblesse  of  Islam,  wMch,  as  dis- 
tinguished from  the  hereditary  nobility  of  Mecca,  might 
also. be  designated  as  the  nobility  of  merit,  consisting  of 
the  "  Defenders,"  and  especially  of  the  Emigrants  who  had 
lent  themselves  to  the  elevation  of  the  Koraish,  but  by  no 
means  with  the  intention  of  r'lowing  themselves  to  be 
thereby  erficed.  The  opposition  -B-as  headed  by  'it]i, 
Zobair;  Talha,  both  as  leadijag  men  among  the  Emigrants 
and  as  disappointed  candidates  for  the  Caliphate,  who 
therefore  were  jealous  of  "Othmdn.  Their  motives  were 
purely  selfish;  not  God's  cause  but  their  own,  not 
religion  but  power  and  preferment,  were  what  they  sought.* 
Their  party  was  a  mixed  one.  To  it  belonged  the  men  of 
real  piety,  who  saw  -with  displeasure  the  promotion  to  the 
first  places  in  the  commonwealth  of  the  great  lords  who 
had  actually  done  nothing  for  Islam,  and  had  joined 
themselves  to  it  only  at  the  twelfth  hour,  -n-hila  those  who 
had  borne  the  burden  and  heat  of  the  day  were  passed  by. 
But  the  majority  were  merely  a  band  of  men  -without 
vievrs,  whose  aim  was  not  a  change  of  system  but  of 
persons,  that  they  themselves  might  fatten  in  the  vacant 
places.  Everywhere  in  the  provinces  there  was  agitation 
against  the  Caliph  and  his  governors,  except  in  Syria,  where 
'Othmin's  cousin,  Mo'4-wiya  b,  Abl  SofyAn,  carried  on  a 
wise  and  strong  administration,  ^e  movement  was  most 
energetic  in  'Irik  and  in  Egypt.  .  Its  ultimate  aim  was 
the  deposition  of  'OthmAn  in  favour  of  'All,  whose  o-wn 
services  as  well  as  his  close  relationship  tb  the  Prophet 
seemed  to  give  him  the  best  claim  to  the  Caliphate.  Even 
then  there  were  enthusiasts  who  held  him  to  be  a  sort  ol 
Messiah. 

The  malcontents  sought  to  gain  their  end  by  force.  Ir 
bands  they  came  from  the  provinces  to  iledii*  to  concuss 
'Othmdn  into  concession  of  their  demands.  From  the 
Indus  and  Oxus  to  the  Atlantic  the  world  was  trembling 
before  the  armies  of  the  Caliph,  but  in  Medina  he  had 
no  troops  at  hand.  He  propitiated  the  mutineers  by 
concessions,  but  as  soon  as  they  had  gone,  he  let  matters 
resume  their  old  course.  Thus  things  went  on  from 
worse  to  worse.  In  the  following  year  (656)  the  leaders 
of  the  rebeb  came  once  more  from  Egypt  and  'IrAk  to 
Medina  with  a  more  numerous  following  ;  and  the  Calipt' 
again  tried  his  former  plan  of  making  promises  which  he 
did  not  intend  to  keep.  But  the  rebels  caught  him  in  ^ 
flagrant  breach  of  his  word,  and  now  demanded  his  abdi; 
cation,  besieging  him  in  his  own  house,  where  he  was 


mcitt 

a-^iinii 
'C'.hJtuW 


*  It  was  the  same  opposition  of  the  spiritual  to  the  secular  nobilltj 
that  afterwards  showed  itself  in  the  revolt  of  the  sacred  cities  against 
the  Omayyads.  The  movement  triumphed  with  the  elevation  of  the 
'Abbasids  to  the  tlirone.  But,  that  the  spiritual  nobility  was  Sgbting 
not  for  principle  but  for  personal  advantage  was  as  apparent  in  'All's 
hostilities  against  Zobair  and  Tilha  as  in  that  of  the  'Abbdsids  agaisst 
the  follov-:^r;  ^^f  'A3:. 


564 


MOHAMMEDANISM 


[teb  kastkbm 


defended  by  a  few  faithful  subjects.  As  he  would  not 
yield,  they  at  last  took  the  building  by  storm  and  put 
him  to  death,  an  old  man  of  eighty.  His  death  in  the 
act  of  maintaining  his  rights  was  of  the  greatest  service  to 
liis  house  and  of  corresponding  disadvantage  to  the  enemy. 

Controversy  now  arose  among  the  leaders  of  the  oppo- 
sition as  to  the  inheritance.  The  mass  of  the  mutineers 
summoned  'AH  to  the  Caliphate,  and  compelled  even  Talha 
and  Zobair  to  do  him  homage.  But  soon  these  two,  along 
with  'Aiaha,  the  mother  of  the  faithful,  who  had  an  old 
grudge  against  'AH,  succeeded  in  making  their  escape  to 
'Irik,  where  at  Basra  they  raised  the  standard  of  rebellion. 
'All  in  point  qf  fact  had  no  real  right  to  the  succession, 
and  moreover  was  actuated  not  by  piety  but  by  ambition 
and  the  desire  bf  power,  so  that  men  of  penetration,  even 
although  they  condemned  'OthmAn's  method  of  govern- 
ment, yet  refused  to  recognize  his  successor.  The  new 
Caliph,  however,  found  means  of  disposing  of  their  opposi- 
tion, and  at  the  battle  of  the  Camel,  fought  at  Basra  in 
November  650,  Talha  and  Zobair  were  slain,  and  'Aisha 
was  taken  prisoner. 

But  even  so  'All  had  not  secured  peace.  With  tho 
miirdcr  of  'Othmdn  the  dynastic  principle  gained  the 
twofold  advantage  of  a  legitimate  cry — that  of  vengeance 
for  the  blood  of  the  gray-haired  Caliph,  and  of  a  distin- 
guished champion,  the  Syrian  governor  Mo'iwiya-  Mo'Awiya 
was  not  inclined  to  recognize  'All,  and  .  the  latter  did  not 
venture  to  depose  him.  To  have  done  so  would  have  be-en 
useless,  for  Mo'iwiya's  position  in  Syria  was  impregnable. 
The  kernel  of  his  subjects  consisted  of  genuine  Arabs, 
not  only  recent  immigrants  along  with  Islam,  but  also 
old  settlers  who,  through  contact  with  the  Eoman  empire 
and  the  Christian  church,  had  taken  on  a  measure 
of  civilization.  Through  the  Ghass&nids  these  latter 
had  become  habituated  to  monarchical  government  and 
loyal  obedience,  and  for  a  long  time  much  bett«r  order 
bad  prevailed  amongst  tham  than  elsewhere  in  Arabia. 
Syria  was  the  proper  soil  for  the  rise  of  an  Arabian 
kingdom,  and  Mo'Awiya  was  just  the  man  to  make  use  of 
the  situation.  He  exhibited  'Othmin's  blood-stained 
garment  in  the  mosque  at  Damascus,  and  incited  his 
Syrians  to  vengeance. 

'Ah's  position  in  Cufa  was  much  less  advantageous. 
The  population  of  Irik  was  already  mixed  up  with 
Persian  elements ;  it  fluctuated  greatly,  and  was  largely 
composed  of  fresh  immigrants.  Islam  had  its  head- 
quarters hero ;  Cufa  and  Basra  were  the  home  of  the 
pious  and  of  the  adventurer,  the  centres  of  religious  and 
political  movement.  This  movement  it  was  that  had 
raised  'All  to  ^he  Caliphate,  but  yet  it  did  not  really  take 
any  personal  interest  in  him.  Religion  proved  for  him  a 
much  less  trustworthy  and  more  dangerous  support  than 
did  the  conservative  and  secular  feeling  of  Syria  for  the 
Omayyada.  Mo'iwiya  could  either  act  or  refrain  from 
acting  as  he  chose,  secure  in  either  case  of  the  obedience 
of  his  subjects.  'AH,  on  the  other  hand,  was  unable  to 
convert  enthusiasm  for  the  principle  inscribed  on  his 
banner  into  enthusiasm  for  his  person.  It  was  necessary 
that  he  should  accommodate  himself  to  the  wishes  of  his 
supporters,  and  at  the  same  time  it  was  impossible,  for 
these  wishes  were  inconsistent.  They  compelled  him 
suddenly  to  break  oil  the  battle  of  SJiffln,  which  he  was  on 
the  point  of  gaining  over  Mo'dwiya,  because  the  Syrians 
fastened  copies  of  tho  Koran  to  their  lances  to  denote 
that  not  tho  sword  but  the  word  of  God  should  decide 
the  contest  (end  of  July  657).  But  in  yielding  to  the 
will  of  the  majority  he  excited  tlio  displeasure  of  the 
minority,  tho  genuine  zealots,  who  in  Mo'iimj'a  were 
exposing  the  enemy  of  Islam,  and  who  regarded  'All's 
entering  into  negotiations  with  him  as  a  denial  of  the 


faith.  When  the  negotiations  failed  and  war  was 
resumed,  the  Khirijites  refused  to  follow  'All's  army, 
and  he  had  to  turn  his  arms  in  the  first  instance  against 
them.  He  succeeded  in  disi)Osing  of  them  without  diffi- 
culty, but  in  his  success  he  lost  the  soul  of  his  following. 
For  they  were  the  true  champions  of  the  theocratic 
principle ;  through  their  elimination  it  became  clear  that 
the  struggle  had  in  no  sense  anything  to  do  ■with  the 
cause  of  God.  'AJfs  defeat  was  a  foregone  conclusion, 
once  religious  enthusiasm  had  failed  him ;  the  secular 
resources  at  the  disposal  of  his  adversaries  were  far 
superior.  Fortunately  for  him  he  was  murdered  (end 
of  January  661),  thereby  posthumously  attaining  an 
importance  in  the  eyes  of  a  large  part  of  the  Mohammedan 
world  (ShI'a)  which  he  had  never  possessed  during  his 
life.     His  son  Hasan  made  peace  with  Mo'ivriya. 

The  Khirijites  are  the  moEt  interesting  feature  of  the'iio 
then  phase  of  Islam.  In  the  name  of  religion  they  raised  Kl^ir!- 
their  protest  against  allowing  tho  whole  great  spiritual  ■'''**• 
movement  to  issue  in  a  secular  and  political  result,  iq  the 
establisliment  within  the  conquered  territories  of  an 
Arabian  kingdom,  a  kingdom  which  diametrically  contra- 
dicted the  theocratic  ideal.  Islam  was  then  on  the  point 
of  making  its  peace  with  the  world,  not  -n-iihout  a  certain 
apostasy  from  its  original  principles,  for  which  Mohammed 
himself  had  paved  the  way.  Life  was  no  more  dominated 
by  religion,  but  came  to  tenns  with  it  aud  parted  com- 
pany. This  development  was  favoxu-ed  by  the  govern- 
ment, which  desired  before  all  things  to  have  peace. 
Orthodoxy  arose,  and  thereby  religion  was  tamed  and 
divested  of  every  dangerous  element ;  strictly  speaking,  it 
became  a  compromise,  according  to  which  the  letter  of  the 
precept  was  correctly  followed,  in  order  that,  in  everj-thing 
besides,  a  man  might  obey  his  ovnx  inclinations.  Tlie  con- 
ditions under  which  any  one  might  make  sure  of  heaven 
were — on  the  one  hand,  the  performance  of  "  good  works," 
i.e.  of  such  opera  operanda  as  had  a  special  churcldy 
merit  assigned  to  them ;  on  the  other  hand,  faith  in  tie 
absolute  soverfeignty  of  God  even  over  the  wills  of  men. 
About  morak  G!od  showed  little  concern — the  usual  view 
of  orthodox  shamanism.  This  was  by  no  means  the 
original  standpoint  of  Islam,  although  the  transition  to 
it  was  made  at  an  early  stage,  and  by  the  Prophet  himself. 
Originally  Islam — i.e.  religious  resignation — was  only  the 
complement  of  pious  eJfort ;  a  man  set  himself  about 
even  the  hardest  and  apparently  purposeless  tafks,  because 
ho  believed  the  issue  to  lie  entirely  in  tho  hand  of  God. 
But  now  all  this  was  reversed  ;  a  man  acted  according  to 
his  humour,  because  his  destiny  had  nothing  to  do  \rith 
his  inherent  qualities,  but  was  dependent  entirely  on 
Allih's  caprice.  The  Khirijites  protested  not  merely 
against  the  dynastic  principle  and  the  rule  of  the  Omay- 
yads,  but  also  against  orthodoxy ;  they  disputed  the  doc- 
trine of  predestination  and  the  proposition  that  a  great 
sinner  could  yet  bo  a  good  Moslem,  because  they  did  not 
understand  how  to  divorce  religjon  from  practice.  To 
some  degree  they  call  to  mind  the  ~lSontanists,  but  their 
opposition  was  much  more  energetic  in  its  expression.' 

Sources.— Yot  the  history  of  Mohammed  these  are— (1)  the  Son: est 
Koran  ;  (2)  the  theologico-nistorical  tradition  or  Hadith.  Tlio 
latter  is  chronologically  arranged  in  the  biographies,  of  which 
those  of  Ibn  Isliak  and  of  AVakidi  are  the  oldest  aud  most  import- 
ant. Ibn  Ishak's  work  in  ita  complete  form  i^  now  to  be  found 
only  in  Ibn  Hisham's  revision  (cd.  Wilstcnfeld),  but  laigo  and 
numerous  fra/^ments  of  the  original  are  f,'ivcn  by  Tabari  (ed.  De 
.long).  Of  W.ikidI  the  Kildb  al-Maghiizi,  i.e.  the  history  of 
Mohammed  in  Medina,  is  still  extant  (abridged  German  translation 
by  Wellhauscn,  1SS2) ;  his  coUcctiona  for  tho  earlier  period  are 
known  to  us  through  the  work  of  Ibn  Sa'd  lus  secretary  {TaiaiM, 


-  On  the  further  development  of  Islam  compart  Hontama,  De  Siri^ 
evtr  ktt  Zh/ma,  Leyden,  187$. 


•IXIP&iTE.] 


MOHAMMEDANISM 


565 


ancdit«d).  The  Hidith  is  s«t  forth  more  svstetnaticany,  according 
to  subjecU.  in  the  great  collections  of  tradition  by  M^ik  b.  Anas, 
Bokhari,  Moelim,  etc  (Bulak  editions).  A  subsidiary  authority 
i}  the  humanistic  tradition  of  the  Odaba,  with  which  the  poetry 
luay  be  reckoned.  The  principal  collections  of  thia  class  are  the 
KiUb  al-Aghini  (Bnlak  edition)  and  the  Kdmil  (ed.  Wright).  For 
the  period  after  Mohammed  the  most  important  work  is  the 
Chronicle  of  Tabari  (Leyden  edition) ;  the  history  of  the  conquest 
is  treated  briefly  after  the  best  authorities  by  Belidhorl  (ed.  Do 
Goeje,  1866). 

ZUerature. — The  genuine  tradition  of  the  Arabs  with  reference 
to  their  prophet  was  first  introduced  into  Europe  by  the  French, 
beginning  with  Oagnier  and  ending  with  the  valuable  work  of 
CMWiin  de  PorceraL  AVeil  and,  after  mm,  Noldeka  especially,  bare 


the  merit  of  haring  shown  how  to  om  the  Koran  In  coijunction  with 
the  Arab  tradition  as  a  main  source.  Of  modem  biographiet  the 
most  important  are  those  of  Jluir  and  Sprenger  ;  iwearch  has  not 
yet  got  beyond  them,  although  there  is  room  foi  this.  For  the 
history  of  the  Cahphs,  the  eUndard  book  is  stiU  the  weD-known 
work  of  Weil,  although  amce  it  waa  published  considerable  addi- 
tions  have  been  made  to  our  knowledge  of  tha  sources,  thank* 
snecially  to  the  Ubouia  of  Dozy,  De  Goeje,  and  other  Dutchmen. 
Hitherto  the  mam  object  has  been  to  bring  together  the  materiali 
m  this  department  of  research,  and  a  comprehensive  treatment  of 
the  entire  subject  has  not  as  yet  been  accomplished  ;  still  r«fereno« 
may  be  made  in  this  connection  to  Dozy  {Hutoir,  dt  VIslnmime\ 
and  A.  von  Kremer  (Oesch.  cUr  herrxhmden  Idem  d.  Itlam,  and 
KuUmrgachichU  d.  OrurnU  xmter  dm  KhcUifen).  (J  wa) 


PART  IL— THE  EASTERN  CALIPHATE. 


Sect.  L — The  Omayyads. 
1.  In  commencing  the  history  of  the  Omayyad  dynasty 
we  mnst  first  recur  to  the  causes  which  brought  about  the 
triumph  of  this  family,  and  which  led  its  chief  to  substitute 
£>amascu.s  for  Medina  as  the  seat  of  the  Caliphate ;  an 
event  which  led  to  profound  changes  in  the  Moslem  empire, 
and  exercised  a  considerable  influence  on  its  development. 
In  the  Game  way,  at  a  later  date,  the  transfer  of  the  Cali- 
phate from  Damascus  to  BaghdAd  marked  the  accession  of 
a  new  family  to  the  supreme  power,  and  gave  Islam  a  new 
direction. 

In  the  lime  of  Mohammed,  the  Arabs  were  divided  into 
an  infinite  number  of  tribes,  some  settled,  others  nomadic, 
■which  were  conitantly  at  war  with  each  other.  The 
Prophet  united  them  into  one  body,  but  he  could  not 
entirel}'  eradicate  the  hatred  v.hich  had  existed  for  ages 
between  tribe  and  tribe.  Thus  the  people  of  Mecca  and 
those  of  Medina  hated  each  other,  because  the  former  were 
£  branch  of  the  race  of  Ma'add,  the  great  ancestor  of  the 
tribes  of  the  North ;  ^  while  the  latter  belonged  to  the 
Yemenite  race,  or  that  of  the  South.  The  conquest  of 
Jlecca  by  Mohammed  and  his  allies  of  Medina  only  exas- 
perated this  hatred,  and  the  nobles  of  the  Koraish  swore 
to  take  revenge  on  the  Yemenites,  as  soon  as  they  should  be 
able  to  do  so.  One  of  the  most  violent  opponents  of  the 
Prophet  had  been,  as  we  have  seen,  the  father  of  that  very 
Wo'Awiya  who  founded  the  Omayyad  dynasty,  Abii  Sofyin, 
grandson  of  Omayya,  the  leader  of  the  Meccans  in  the  battle 
St  Ohod  ;  and  it  is  related  that  his  wife  Hind,  having  found 
Hamza,  Mohammed's  uncle,  among  the  dead,  cut  open  his 
body,  and  tore  out  and  devoured  his  liver.  We  have  also 
i.j9ecn  how  Ab\i  SofyAn  ultimately  made  his  submission  and 
embraced  Islam,  but  only  under  compulsion.  Wia  eon 
ilo'Awiya  became,  it  is  true,  one  of  Mohammed's  secretaries  ; 
but  we  know  that  his  faith  was  never  very  strong,  and  that 
he  always  made  his  religion  subordinate  to  the  interests  of 
his  family.  Even  in  his  youth,  he  had  conceived  the  project 
of  recovering  the  supreme  power  for  his  own  race,  and  it 
lias  been  related  above  how  the  inner  conflicts  of  Islam 
tinder  the  Caliphates  of  'Othmin  and  "All  carried  him 
forwards  towards  this  goal 

Mo'Awiya  might,  no  doubt,  have  marched  to  the  help 
of  'OthmAn  with  an  army  of  SjTians ;  but  the  preserva- 
tion of  the  Caliph,  his  relative,  would  not  have  served  the 
purposes  of  his  burning  ambition,  and  we  may  say  with- 
out hesitation  that  it  was  %vith  secret  joy  that  the  prefect 
of  Damascus  heard  of  the  fatal  result  of  the  plot  against 
'Othmin.  The  Syrians  were  entirely  devoted  to  Mo- 
'iiwiya.  Polite,  amiable,  and  generous,  he  had  gain*  the 
goodwill  of  all  the  Arabs  of  Syria,  for  whom  Islam  had 
remained  a  dead  letter,  and  who,  continuing  Bedouins  at 
heart,  shared  the  feelings  of  their  chief  against  the  new 


'  The  Ma'addites  are  aUo  often  called  Mo4arites  and  KalwitA?,  after 
their  asceston  Mo^ar  and  K:iis. 


aristocracy  of  Medina.  Consequently,  when  'All,  'Oth- 
mAn's  successor,  summoned  Mo'Awiyi  for  tha  last  time  to 
acknowledge  him,  and  when  Mo'A'^ya,  assembling  his 
partisans  in  the  mosque  of  Damascu.-!,  asked  their  advice, 
they  replied  that  it  was  his  part  to  command,  and  theirs 
to  obey  and  to  act.  The  enthusiasm  of  the  Syrians  waa 
great ;  and  Mo'Awiya  having  ordertd  a  levy  en  massf, 
within  three  days  every  able-bodied  man  had  joined  his 
standard.  Syria  alone  supplied  Mo'Awiya  with  more 
troops  than  all  the  rest  of  the  pronnces  put  together 
furnished  to  'AH,  who  is  said  to  have  a  Idressed  his  soldiers 
with  these  bitter  words  :  "  I  would  gbdly  eschange  ten  of 
you  for  one  of  Mo'Awiya's  soldiers."  Then  he  added — in 
allusion  to  the  savage  action  of  Hind,  Mo'Awiya's  mother, 
on  the  field  of  battle  at  Ohod — "  By  God !  he  will  gain 
the  victory,  this  son  of  the  liver-eater  1 " 

'All's  gloomy  anticipations  were  fulfilled  ;  but  it  was  by 
stratagem  that  Mo'Awiya  gained  his  victory.  The  battle 
of  Siffin,  the  abortive  negotiations  that  followed,  and  the 
withdrawal  of  the  KiArijites,  have  been  already  spoken  of. 
The  negotiations  ended  in  the  conference  of  Dfimat  al- 
Jandal,  a  small  place  situated  between  Syria  and  'IrAJf, 
about  seven  days'  journey  from  Damascus  and  thirteen 
from  Medina.  Here  in  Ilamadan,  A.H.  37  (a.d.  657-658), 
Abii  MisA  and  'Amr  b.  al-'As  (the  famous  conqueror  of 
Egypt)  appeared  as  arbitrators  for  'AH  and  Mo'Awiya 
respectively,  and  the  cunning  of  the  latter  induced  Abu 
MiisA  to  pronounce  both  pretendants  deprived  of  whatever 
rights  either  might  have  to  the  Caliphat-e,  and  to  say  that 
it  now  rested  with  the  Moslems  to  make  a  new  choice. 
'Amr,  who  waa  only  waiting  for  this  declaration,  rose  in  his 
turn,  and  said  to  the  Arabs  who  were  crowding  round  the 
platform  :  "  O  people,  ye  hear  what  Al^ii  MiisA  says.  He 
himself  renotmces  the  claims  of  his  master.  I  also  agree  tj 
the  deprivation  of  "All,  but  I  proclaim  my  master  Mo'Awira  Mo'i- 
Caliph."  Abii  MiisA  cried  out  against  this  treachery,  but  *^y*  '• 
no  one  would  listen  to  him,  and  he  fled  for  refuge  to 
Mecca,  where  he  ultimately  recognised  the  claims  of 
Ho'Awiya,  even  in  'All's  lifetime.  This  event  marks  the 
commencement  of  the  Omayyad  dynasty.  'Amr  weat  in 
triumph  to  Damascus,  where  the  Syrians  took  tha  wth  of 
fidelity  to  Mo'Awiya. 

In  'IrAk,  on  the  other  hand,  with  the  exception  of  the 
Khirijites,  all  thr  people  remained  fsithful  to  the  cause 
of  'All,  who,  mounting  the  pulpit  at  (Jufa,  summoned  his 
army  to  the  field,  and  fixed  their  rencezvous  at  Nokhaila, 
a  sinall  place  not  far  from  the  city.  The  Kharijites  had 
taken  refuge  at  NahrowAn,  and  'Aii  found  it  necessary  to 
attack  them  there,  before  marching  against  the  Syiiana. 
At  his  arrival  most  of  the  rebels  d'spersed,  except  from 
fifteen  to  eighteen  hundred  fanatics,  who  remained  at 
their  post  and  allowed  themselves  to  be  slaughtered  to 
the  last  TTiftTi  Thus  rid  of  tha  Kh.irijites,  'Ali  meant  to 
direct  his  march  towards  Syria,  but  his  soldiers  refused 
to  moTO,  and  declared  their  intenticn  of  first  taking  soine 


066 


MOHAMMEDaNIS 


[oilATTADft 


rest  at  Cufa,  Compelled  to  inaction,  'Alf  returned  to 
Cufa,  while  Mo'iwiya  gave  his  attention  to  securing  the 
possession  of  tho  iiroviuces.  At  tlio  beginning  of  a.h.  38 
(a.d.  658-059),  Egypt  was  lost  to  'Alt  'Anir  b.  oJ-'As 
was  sent  thither  by  Mo'Awiya,  and  marched  vrithout 
delay,  at  the  Load  of  five  thousand  men,  against  "All's 
vicegerent,  Mohammed,  son  of  the  late  Caliph,  Abiibekr. 
The  brave  general  Ashtar,  whom  'Ali  sent  to  the  help  of 
Mohammed,  was  poisoned  at  Kolzom  by  the  prefect  of 
that  place,  acting  under  secret  orders  from  Mo'dwiya,  and 
'Ali's  troops  retraced  their  steps.  Meanwhile,  in  Egypt 
itself,  a  partisan  of  the  Omayyads,  Mo'Awiya  b.  Hodaij, 
who  was  at  the  head  of  six  thousand  fighting  men,  had 
declared  against  Mohammed,  and  driven  him  from  Fostit. 
On  his  arrival  in  Egypt,  "Amr  effected  a  junction  with 
Mo'dwiya  b.  Hodaij,  and  the  unfortunate  Mohammed, 
beaten  by  his  adversaries,  fell  into  the  hands  of  Ibn 
Hodaij,  who  put  him  to  death. 

While  Egypt  was  thus  being  lost  to  'All,  commotions 
were  excited  at  Basra  itself  by  a  partisan  of  the  Omayyads. 
These  were,  however,  put  down  by  the  governor  of  that 
city,  Ziyid.  This  man  was  Mo'iwiya's  own  brother,  but 
illegitimate,  and  not  having  been  acknowledged  by  his 
father,  Abil  SofyAn,  he  had  revenged  himself  by  embracing 
the  party  of  'Alt  Ziyild  was  renowned  among  the  Arabs 
fcT  his  eloquence,  his  resolution,  and  his  courage.  At  a 
later  period,  Mo'iwiya  gained  him  over  to  his  cause  by 
publicly  acknowledging  him  as  his  brother.  At  the  time 
we  speak  of,  he  was  a  faithful  servant  of  'AH,  and  as  soon 
as  the  revolt  of  Basra  was  put  down^  he  marched  into 
Firsistan,  where  he  maintained  peace  and  kept  the 
inhabitants  in  their  allegiance.  Meanwhile,  however,  the 
other  proWnces  were  falling  one  after  the  other  under  the 
power  of  Mo'Awiya,  His  generals  penetrated  into  the 
heart  of  Chaldasa ;  and  even  in  Arabia,  where  'All's 
generals  had  at  first  gained  some  advantages,  Bosr '  b. 
'Artah  obtained  possession  of  Medina  a.h.  40  (a.d.  660-C61), 
and  compelled  its  inhabitants  to  acknowledge  Mo'Awiya. 
After  this  he  marched  upon  Mecca^  expelled  Kotham, 
'AU's  governor,  and  there  also  exacted  an  oath  of  obedience 
to  his  master.  Following  up  his  successes,  Bosr  did  not 
hesitate  to  press  southward,  and  soon  gained  possession 
of  Yemen.  'All  was  nov,'  no  longer  master  of  anything 
but  'Irak  and  a  part  of  Persia,  and  even  of  these  provinces 
the  former  vfas  menaced  by  the  Syrians,  as  we  have  seen. 
Taking  advantage  of  some  partial  successes  gained  by  his 
forces  in  Arabia  and  in  Syria,  'All  made  overtures  for 
peace,  but  they  were  rejected.  Mo'4wiya  believed  himself 
too  sure  of  ultimate  success  to  be  willing  to  share  the 
(empire. 

It  was  then  that  three  men  of  the  Khirijites  conceived 
the  project  of  delivering  Islam  from  those  who  were 
desolating  it  with  fire  and  blood.  'Abd  al-Rahm4n  b. 
Moljam,  Boraik  b.  'Abdallah,  and  'Amr  b.  Bekr  agreed 
that  on  the  very  same  day  the  first  should  kill  'All  at  Cufa, 
tlie  second  Mo'ilwiya  at  Damascus,  and  the  third  'Amr  b. 
al-'As  at  FosUt.  They  fixed  on  Friday  the  15thof  Ramad.-tn, 
A.H.  40,- when  they  were  sure  of  finding  their  victims  at 
K^Msi-  the  mosque.  The  plot  was  put  in  execution,  but  'All 
wiion  of  along  fell.  On  the  appointed  day,  Boraik  made  his  way 
'■  into  the  mosque  of  Damascus,  and  stabbed  Mo'Awiya  in 
the  back  with  his  sword.  Before  he  could  repeat  the 
blow  he  was  seized,  and  Mo'Awiya  recovered  from  his 
wound.  As  for  'Amr,  he  had  been  kept  at  home  by 
Illness ;  his  place  at  the  mosquo  was  fakeu  by  KhArija, 
the  chief  of  his  guards ;  and  it  was  he  who  fell  beneath 
the  blows  of  'Amr  b.  Bekr.     'Abd  al-Rahmin  was  more 


'  Not  liishr,  a»  sc 
brtrua  aear  li.wa» 


:^  liistorians  call  him.     Bosr  pave  his  name 
.     Bt-ladhori  calls  bim  Bour  k.  Abi  Arlih. 


EucceasfuL  As  'All  was  entering  the  mosque,  he  dealt  bim 
a  blow  on  the  head  with  his  sword,  and  stretched  him  on 
the  ground  mortaUy  wounded.  Two  days  later  "Alf  died, 
and  the  assassin  was  put  to  death  with  horrible  torments. 

'All  left  two  sons,  Hasan  and  Hosain.  The  people  ol 
Iri^  chose  Hasan  Caliph.  But  he,  not  having  his  father's 
energy,  recoiled  before  the  prospect  of  a  war  with 
Mo'iwiya.  Though  he  had  an  army  of  forty  thousand  * 
men  at  his  disposal,  he  preferred  to  renounce  the  Caliphate. 
Besides,  one  of  his  generals,  Kais  b.  Sa'd,  who  had  urged 
him  to  continue  the  struggle,  and  had  himself  tried  tha 
chance  of  arms,  had  just  been  beaten  by  the  Syrians.  In 
consequence  of  this  defeat,  a  mutiny  had  broken  out  in 
Hasan's  army.  He  abdicated,  and  only  demanded,  in 
exchange  for  the  power  which  he  resigned,  pardon  for  his 
relatives  and  a  yearly  pension  of  five  millions  of  dirhems,^ 
together  with  the  revenues  of  the  Persian  city  of  Ddrib, 
gird.  A  treaty  to  this  effect  was  concluded  between 
Mo'dwiya  and  Hasan,  in  spite  of  the  opposition  of  Kosaln, 
who  exhorted  his  brother  to  continue  the  straggle ;  and 
Mo'iwiya  entered  Cufa  at  the  head  of  his  army,  accord- 
ing to  some  authorities  towards  the  end  of  the  month  of 
Rabf  I.,  A.H.  41  (July,  a.d.  €61),  according  to  others  a 
month  or  two  later.  Hasan  retired  to  Medina,  where  he 
died  eight  or  nine  years  afterwards,  poisoned,  it  is  said, 
by  order  of  the  Caliph. 

Mo'Awiya,  who  now  remained  sole  master  of  the  Jtcslem  ilo'i- 
empire,  was,  however,  not  yet  univertaU}'  acknowledged.  >''y» 
Five  thousand  Khirijites  made  head  against  him  in  the  ^°'^  .. 
province  of  AhwAz,  the  ancient  Susiana,  and  a  revolt  broke 
out  at  Basra.  Ziydd  himself,  Mo'dvriya's  brother,  refused 
to  take  the  oath  to  him,  and  fortified  himself  at  Istakhr, 
the  ancient  Persepolis.  The  revolt  it  Basra  was  put  down 
by  Bosr  b.  ArUh,  and  Moghfra  b.  Sho'ba,  whom  Mo'iwiya 
had  named  prefect  of  Cufa,  accepted  the  task  of  bringing 
about  a  reconciliation  with  ZiyAd.  Ziy.ld  refused  to  taka 
the  oath  of  allegiance  only  because  he  feared  being  called 
to  account  for  certain  sums  of  money  which  were  missing 
from  the  public  treasury  of  Persia.  Mo'iwiya  promised  to 
shut  his  eyes  to  these  irregularities ;  and  ZiyAd  came  to 
Damascus  and  was  very  well  received  by  the  Caliph,  who 
hastened  to  adopt  the  liastard  as  his  brother,  to  the  great 
scandal  of  all  pious  Moslems.^  After  acknowledging  ZiyAd, 
who  thus  became  ZiyAd  son  of  Abii  SofyAn,  Mo'Awiya 
entrusted  him  with  tho  government  of  Basra  and  of  Persia, 
and  afterwards  with  that  of  Cufa,  when  !Moghfra  b.  Sho'ba 
died.  ZiyAd  governed  'IrA'if  with  the  greatest  vigour,  to 
tho  full  satisfaction  of  Mo'Awiya,  who  further  placed  the 
whole  of  Arabia  under  his  authority ;  but  in  that  same 
year,  a.h.  53  (a.d.  672-673),  ZiyAd  died.  It  seems  that 
Mo'Awiya  had  thought  of  him  as  his  successor  in  the 
Caliphate.  After  ZiyAd's  death,  the  Caliph  wished  tc 
secure  tho  throne  for  his  o^vn  son  Yazid.  This  was  a  new 
violation  of  tho  customary  rights  of  Islam  ;  for  Mohammed, 
whoso  actions  served  as  a  rule,  had  not  in  his  lifetime 
appointed  any  one  as  his  successor.  Mo'Awiya,  who  was  a 
statesman  .iboye  everything,  and  who  held  religion  very 
cheap  when  it  interfered  with  his  objects,  did  not  hesitate 
to  create  a  precedent..  He  met,  however,  at  first  with 
vigorous  opposition,  and  it  was  not  till  some  ye.irs  later 
that  ho  ventured  to  liave  his  intentions  publiily  announced 
from  the  pulpit.  In  Syria  the  people  took  the  oath  o) 
allegiance  to  Yazid ;  in  Arabia  and  'IrAV  ]iuMic  opinion 
declared  itself  against  the  step  which  Mo'Awij-a  had  taken. 


^  Tho  dirbera  is  a  silver  coin  \vorth  about  o  franc. 

'  At  a  later  period,  th«  Abbasid  Caliph  Mahili  thoiiglit  it  riBht  tc 
havo  the  names  of  Ziyad  and  bis  descendants  struck  off  the  rolls  of  the 
Koraisb  :  but,  after  bis  death,  the  persons  concerned  gained  over  the 
chief  of  the  rolU. office,  .ind  gx)t  their  names  replaced  oa  the  li^ts.  fcct 
Tabari,  iii.  479. 


OMATVADS.] 


MOHAMMEDANISM 


567 


The  Cnliph  Tas  not  moved ;  threats  prevailed  over  the 
obstinacy  of  the  people  of  "Irilj,  and  Mo'dwiya  repaired  to 
Arabia  in  person,  at  the  head  of  an  army,  to  intimidate  the 
inhabitants  of  Mecca  and  Medina.  As  may  bo  supposed, 
the  principal  fo'mentera  of  tho  resistance  in  Arabia  were 
the  sons  of  the  first  Caliphs,- "Abd  al-Ealimin  the  son  of 
Abiibekr,  'Abdalliih  the  son  of  'Omar,  and  Hosain  the 
son  of  'Ali  ;  for,  by  submitting,  they  would  have  renounced 
all  hope  of  being  themselves  chosen  by  the  people.  Another 
"Abdallih,  son  of  that  Zobair  who  had  been  among  the 
six  candidates  nominated  at  the  death  of  'Omar  for  tho 
choice  of  the  Moslems,  was  also  one  of  the  wannest 
opponents  of  the  pretensions  of  Mo'iwiya.  AH  the  efforts 
of  the  Caliph  to  win  over  these  personages  to  his  side 
lianng  proved  vain,  he  ordered  them  to  be  brought  into 
the  mosque  at  Mecca,  each  between  two  soldiers ;  then, 
having  mounted  the  pulpit,  he  called  on  tho  bystanders  to 
take  the  oath  of  allegiance  to  his  son  ;  adding  that  'Abd 
al-Ralun4n,  Hosain,  and  the  two  'AbdallAhs  would  raise  no 
objection.  They,  in  their  terror,  did  not  utter  a  word,  and 
the  assembly  took  the  oath.  Then  Mo'Awiya,  without  con- 
cerning himself  further  about  the  malcontents,  returned  to 
Damascus. 

Wliile  thus  occupied  at  home,  Mo'iwiya  did  not  neglect 
foreign  affairs.  'Amr  b.  al-'As,  governor  of  Egypt,  died 
x.n.  43  (A.D.  663-664),  and  was  followed  by  several  prefects 
in  succession,  under  one  of  whom  the  general  Mo'dwiya  b. 
Hodaij  undertook  several  expeditions  into  the  province 
of  Africa.  In  the  year  50  (a.d.  670)  he  advanced  as 
far  as  Camunia,  now  Siisa,  near  which  city  he  laid  the 
foundations  of  the  celebrated  Kairawin,  and  even  went 
on  to  Sabaratha,  a  town  situated  near  the  seashore,  and 
opposite  to  the  island  of  C'rina.  The  emperor,  Constiintino 
IV.,  had  sent  thither  thirty  thoxisand  Greeks,  who  were 
beaten  and  compelled  to  re-embark  in  haste.  Mo'awiya  b. 
Hodaij  returned  to  Egypt  after  his  victory,  and  the  Caliph 
now  considered  the  jiosition  of  the  Moslems  in  Africa  so 
strong,  that  he  separated  that  province  from  Egypt,  and 
appointed  as  governor  of  Africa  'Okba  b.  Nifi',  who  per- 
manently established  Kairaw4n,  in  a  plain  situated  at  a 
little  distance  from  the  first  encampment  of  Mo'Awiya  b. 
Hodaij.  -According  to  some  historians,  the  new  city  .was 
completed  A.H.  55  (a.d.  674-675). 

In  the  East  the  successes  of  the  Moslems  were  still  more 
brilliant.  Ziy.W,  brother  of  Mo'Attiya,  as  soon  as  he  was 
aiipointed  governor  of  'IrAlf  and  Persia,  sent  an  army  into 
IChorisAn.  It  advanced  as  far  as  the  Oxus,  crossed  that 
river,  and  retiirned  loaded  with  booty  taken  from  the 
wandering  Turkish  tribes  of  Transoxiana.  BokhirA  was 
occupied  by  a  son  of  Ziydd,  and  Sa'd,  son  of  the  Caliph 
'Ofhinin,  whom  Mo'Awiya  had  made  governor  of  IChorasAn, 
marched  against  Samarkand,  A.H.  56  (a.d.  675-676). 
Other  generals  penetrated  as  far  as  the  Indus,  and  over- 
ran and  conquered  MiiltAn,  K4b>ilistdn,  Mokrin,  and 
Sijistiin. 

In  the  North  the  Moslems  were  not  less  fortunate  in 
their  attacks  on  the  Byzantine  empire.  Mo'Awiya,  while 
still  only  governor  of  Syria,  had  gained  possession  of 
Armenia,  and  had  sent  a  fleet  against  Cyprus,  which,  in 
conjunction  vrith  that  of  the  governor  of  Egypt,  had 
effected  the  conquest  of  that  island.  Encouraged  by  the 
result  of  this  expedition,  he  gave  the  order  for  new  incur- 
sions in  the  Mediterranean.  His  fleet  of  twelve  hundred 
vessels  invested  the  islands  of  Cos,  Crete,  and  Rhodes. 
The  famous  Colossus  of  Rhodes  was  broken  to  pieces,  and 
it  is  said  that  the  bronze  of  which  it  was  made  was  bought 
by  a  Jew  of  Emesa,  and  formed  a  load  for  nine  hundrpd 
and  eighty  camels.  The  Arabs  even  dared  to  threaten 
Constantinople,  which  owed  its  safety  only  to  the  Greek 
fire.     Tazld.  the  son  of   Mo'iwiya,  took   part  in  these 


expeditions,  but  with  no  great  ardour,  and  in  the  year  58 
(a.d.  677-678)  Mo'iwiya  concluded  a  thirty  years'  peac« 
with  Constantine  IV.  Two  years  later,  he  died  at  Damas* 
cus,  after  a  reign  of  nearly  twenty  years.  He  had  been 
governorof  Syria  for  the  same  length  of  time.  Before  hia 
death,  he  sent  for  his  son  Yazld,  and  having  pointed  out 
how  he  had  smoothed  down  all  difficulties  for  him,  he 
advised  him  to  spare  no  effort  to  preserve  the  attadiment 
of  the  Syrians.  He  urged  him  also  to  keep  a  close  watch 
on  the  actions  of  Hosain  b.  'AU,  and  of  the  other  pre- 
tenders who  had  refused  to  take  the  oath  of  allegiance  to 
him ;  but  he  added  that,  should  they  rebel,  Yazid  ought 
to  treat  them  with  clemency,  and  not  to  forget  their  illus- 
trious origin.  By  failing  to  act  upon  this  wise  advice, 
Yazld  rendered  irreconcilable  that  formidable  schism  which, 
even  at  the  present  day,  still  divides  the  Moslem  world,: 
and  which,  at  all  neriods,  has  been  a  source  of  calamity  to 
Islam. 

2.  Yazfd  had  not  his  father's  jrenius.  Passionately  Yadd  I. 
fond  of  pleasure,  and  careless  about  religion,  he  bestowed 
more  care  on  turning  a  pretty  couplet  than  on  consoli- 
dating the  strength  of  his  empire.  During  his  short  reign 
he  committed  three  actions  for  which  Moslems  never 
pardoned  his  memory :  the  murder  of  Hosain,  son  of  'AM 
and  grandson  of  the  Prophet ;  the  pillage  of  Medina  ;  and 
the  taking  of  the  Ka'ba,  the  venerated  temple  of  Mecca ; 
crimes  which  were  not  redeemed  in  the  eyes  of  the  people 
by  a  few  fortunate  expeditions  on  the  part  of  his  generals.' 

Immediately  on  ascending  the  throne,  in  the  month 
Rajab  a.h.  60  (April,  a.d.  680),  Yazld  sent  a  circular  to  all 
his  prefects,  with  an  ofiicial  announcement  of  his  father's 
death,  and  an  order  to  administer  the  oath  of  allegiance  to 
their  respective  subjects.  In  particular,  he  charged  the 
now  prefect  whom  he  appointed  to  ifedina,  his  own  cousin 
Walid  b.  'Otba,  to  strike  off  the  heads  of  Hosain  son  of  | 
'All,  'Abd  al-Rahmin  son  of  Abiibekr,  'AbdalUh  son  of 
'Omar,  and  'AbdallAh  son  of  Zobair,  if  they  again  refused 
to  acknowledge  him.  Terrified  at  such  a  commission, 
Walld  did  not  dare  to  act  with  rigour  against  Hosain  and 
'AbdalUh  b.  Zobair,  both  of  whom  refused  to  take  the 
oath,  but  allowed  them  to  escape  to  Mecca.  Yazldj 
immediately  deprived  him  of  his  office,  and  appointed  inl 
his  place  'Amr  b.  Sa'ld,  already  governor  of  Mecca.  Oncet 
in  the  Holy  City,  "AbdalUh  b.  Zobair  thought  himself  inu 
such  perfect  safety  that  he  began  to  intrigue  with  tha 
Meccans  to  have  himself  proclaimed  Caliph  in  ArabiaJ 
At  Cufa  the  news  of  the  flight  of  Hosain  produced  greafl 
agitation  among  tho  partisans  of  the  famUy  of  'All,  who* 
were  numerous  there,  and  they  sent  several  addresses  tdf 
the  grandson  of  tho  Prophet,  inviting  him  to  take  refuge! 
with  them,  and  promising  to  have  him  proclaimed  Calipht 
in  'Irdk.  Hosaiu,  who  knew  the  fickleness  of  the  people' 
of  'Irdk,  hesitated  to  yield  to  their  entreaties ;  but  Ibn. 
Zobair,  who  was  desirous  to  get  rid  at  all  costs  of  so 
formidable  a  rival,  persuaded  him  that  he  ought  to  go 
and  put  himself  at  the  head  of  the  people  of  'Irdk,  and' 
enter  on  an  open  struggle  with  Yazld.  Hosain  began  by 
sending  his  cousin  Moslim  b.  'AkH  to  Cufa,  and  from  himj 
he  learned  that  many  of  the  inhabitants  of  that  city: 
appeared  really  decided  to  support  him.  The  prefect  ofi 
Cufa,  No'mAn  b.  Bashlr,-  though  apprised  of  these  pro-! 
ceedings,  did  not  choose  to  make  them  known  to  Yazld,] 
as  he  was  reluctant  to  act  with  severity  against  a  descend-] 
ant  of  the  Prophet.  Information,  however,  reached  the 
Caliph,  who  deprived  No'min  of  his  office,  and  ordered^ 


'  Salam  b.  ZiyiA  invaded  Sogdiana,  and  brought  back  immense* 
booty  to  Merv.  In  Africa  'Okba  b.  Ndfi'  invaded  the  whole  coast  ofj 
the  Mcditsn-anean  as  far  as  Morocco.  On  his  return,  however,  hej 
fell  into  an  ambuscade  laid  by  the  Berbere,  who  killed  him  and  tooM 
Ksiraviii. 


568 


MOHAMMEDANISM 


[oMATTASat 


febaid  All4h,  son  of  the  famous  Ziydd,  and  then  governor 
pt  Basra,  to  give  up  hia  post  there  to  his  brother  'Othmdn, 
and  to  repair  in  person  to  Cufa,  in  order  to  watch  the 
■partisans  of  "All  in  that  city.  'Obaid  Allih  obeyed, 
entered  Cufa,  and,  ascending  the  pulpit  the  very  day  after 
his  arrival,  publicly  announced  his  firm  intention  of  putting 
to  death  any  one  who  should  rebel  Moslim  b.  "AljO  was 
given  up  by  a  traitor  and  executed.  Meanwhile  Hosain, 
on  receiving  his  cousin's  despatches,  had  already  set  out 
from  Mecca  with  all  his  family,  and  had  reached  KAdisiya 
(a  place  situated  only  fifteen  parasangs '  from  Cufa,  and 
noted  for  the  defeat  sustained  there  by  the  Persians 
daring  the  Caliphate  of  'Omar),  when  he  received  the 
tews  of  these  vexatious  occurrences.  He  wished  to 
retrace  his  steps  immediately,  but  the  friends  of  Moslim 
dissuaded  him  from  doing  so,  crying  out  for  revenge, 
and  representing  to  liim  that  doubtless  he  had  only  to 
show  himself  under  the  walls  of  Cufa  to  be  received  with, 
enthusiasm  by  its  inhabitants.  Hosain  accordingly  pur- 
sued his  journey  towards  Cufa.  But  "Obaid  Allih,  who 
was  watching  all  his  movements,  sent  four  thousand 
liorsemen,  devoted  to  the  Omayyad  cause,  to  meet  him, 
»with  orders  to  bring  Hosain  before  him  either  alive  or 
dead.  The  commander  of.  these  horsemen  was 'Omar  b. 
Sa'd,^  to  whom  'Obaid  Allih  had  promised  the  govern- 
ment of  Media  as  a  reward,  if  his  expedition  should 
succeed.  The  Omayyads  met  Hosain  iu  the  plain  of 
febSi.  Kerbeli,  opposite  to  Cufa,  before  he  had  reached  the 
4)upirates,  and  surrounded  him.  'Omar  b.  Sa'd  himself 
sought  out  Hosain  and  summoned  him  to  surrender. 
Sosain  declared  himself  ready  to  renounce  his  pretensions, 
provided  he  were  allowed  to  return  to  Mecca  with  his 
followers,  or  were  even  sent  to  Damascus.  When  'Obaid 
Allih  was  informed  of  this  proposal,  he  simply  repeated 
iis  former  order  to  bring  Hosain  to  Cufa,  dead  or  alive ; 
and,  fearing  the  defection  of  'Omar  b.  Sa'd,  he  sent  out 
another  troop  of  horsemen  under  the  orders  of  a  certain 
•Shimr.  On  the  9th  of  Moharram  in  the  year  61  (9th 
October  a.d.  6S0),  Shimr  reached  Kerbeli,  and  summoned 
Hosain  afresh  to  surrender  at  discretion.  Hosain  pre- 
ferred to  die  sword  in  hand,  and  on  the  following  day, 
after  a  desperate  struggle,  he  was  cut  down  with  all  his 
followers.  His  head  was  cut  off  and  carried  to  Cufa,  and 
then  sent  to  Damascus.  His  body  was  not  buried  till 
the  following  day.  Only  the  women  of  his  family  were 
spared,  and  one  of  his  sons ;  these  were  taken  by  Yazld's 
order  to  Medina,  where  the  sight  of  their  mourning  and 
the  tale  of  their  sufferings  caused  a  profound  sensation. 
The  horror  and  grief  of  the  partisans  of  'All's  family  were 
great.  Hence  tiie  nanies  of  Yazld,  'Obaid  Allah,  and 
'Shimr,  have  been  held  accursed  ever  since  by  the  Shi'ites..' 
fehey  observe  the  10th  of  Moharram  as  a  day  of  public 
Irnouming.  Among  the  Persians,  stages  are  erected  in 
public  places  on  that  day,  and  plays  are  acted,  represent- 
ing the  misfortunes  of  the  family  of  'Alt*  The  Omayyads 
themselves  were  loud  in  their  reprobation  of  this  impious 
massacre,  and  all  Moslems,  without  distinction  of  party, 
considered  it  a  monstrous  act. 

,At  Mecca  the  news  was  received  with  a  degree  of 
indignation  of  which  'Alxlallih  b.  Zobair  took  advantage  to 
assume  the  title  of  Caliph.  As  early  as  A.H.  60,  the  new 
prefect  of  Medina  had  tried  to  secure  his  person.  He  had 
sent  against  him  a  force  of  two  thousand  men,  at  whose 


*  The  parasang  is  nearly  equivalent  to  an  English  milo, 

'  Son  of  tho  famous  Sa'd  b.  AW  WakkiU,  conqueror  of  Persia 
undei  'Omar,  and  founder  of  Cufa. 

,•  Shi'ites  comes  from  Shi'a,  a  word  which  In  Arabic  signifies  "seo- 
tary."  It  is  the  name  given  to  the  partisans  of  tho  family  of  'AH, 
,who  acknowledge  no  legitimate  Caliphate*^  outside  of  that  family. 
'Shi'ism  is  the  religion  of  Persia. 

*  reeChodzko,  r/Kfdtrejwsan.     Paris,  1878. 


head  w^a3  placed  a  brother  of  the  pseudo-Caliph  himself, 
called  'Amr,  who,  having  been  accused  by  'Abdallih  of 
maintaining  a  guilty  intercourse  with  one  of  his  wives, 
had  become  his  bitter  enemy.  'Abdallih  collected  ao 
army,  and  placed  it  under  the  orders  of  'Abdallih  b. 
Safwin,  who  completely  defeated  the  Omayyad  troops. 
The  brother  of  the  pseudo-Caliph  was  taken  apd  put  to 
death.  At  the  news  of  this  defeat,  Yazld  swore  that 
Ibn  Zobair  should  never  appear  before  him  but  as  a 
prisonc.  in  chains.  He  dismissed  the  new  prefect  of 
Medina,  and  reinstated  Walld  b.  'Otba,  who,  in  the  year 
61,  went  to  Mecca  to  try  to  seize  'Abdallih  b.  Zolteir. 
The  latter,  in  derision,  wrote  to  Yazld  :  "  WaUd  is  a  mad- 
man, who  will  ruin  everything  by  his  folly ;  send  in  his 
place  another  governor  to  repaiir  the  wifongs  he  has  done." 
Yazld  thought  that  "Abdaliih  meant  these  words  as  a  step 
towards  reconciliation  ;  hastened  to  deprive  Walld'  of  his 
office ;  appointed  'Othmin  b.  Mohammed  in  his  place ; 
and  even  sent  envoys  to  Ibn  Zobair.  He,  however,  would 
not  listen  to  them ;  he  thought  he  could  reckon  upon  the 
devotion  of  the  people  of  Mecca,  8jid  further  hoped  that 
Medina  itself  would  declare  against  Y'azld.  This,  in  fact, 
took  place  in  the  year  63  (a.d.  6S2-683).  The  people  of 
Medina,  stirred  up  by  a  certain  'Abdallih  b.  Hanzala, 
who  had  had  a  near  view  of  Yazld  at  the  court  of  Damas- 
cus, and  had  been  scandalized  by  the  profligacy  of  his  life, 
revolted,  drove  the  governor  and  all  the  Omayyads  out  of 
Medina,  and  proclaimed  the  dethronement  of  Yazid.  The 
Caliphate  was  even  offered  by  some  to  'All,  that  one  of  the 
sons  of  Hosain  who  had  escaped  the  massacre  of  Kerbeli  ; 
but  'All  wisely  refused  it.  At  the  news  of  this  revolt^ 
Yazfd  first  sent  an  ambassador  to  Medina.  This  step 
proving  fruitless,  he  next  collected  an  army  of  from  ten 
to  twelve  thousi^d  Syrians,  and  entrusted  their  command 
to  Moslim  b.  "Olfba,  who  passed,  and  with  good  reason, 
for  a  man  who  would  recoil  from  nothing.  This  general, 
though  weighed  down  by  age  and  sickness,  marchfd 
against  Medina,  took  it,  after  a, battle  known  as  the  day  of 
Harra  '  (26th  Dhi  '1-Hijja  63,  26th  August  683),  and  gave 
up  the  city  for  three  days  "to  massacre  and  pUlage.  Tor- 
rents of  blood  flowed,  and  hence  Moslim  b.  'Ofcba  received 
the  surname  of  Mosrif  (the  Prodigal).  On  the  fourth 
day,  Moslim  repaired  to  the  mosque,  and  received  the 
oath  of  allegiance  from  all  those  of  the  citizens  of  Medina 
who  had  not  been  able  to  make  their  escape.  The  news 
reached  Mecca  a  few  days  later,  a»J  fell  like  a  thunder- 
stroke on  Ibn  Zobair  aud  his  adhetents,  who  prepared  for 
war,  expecting  from  day  to  day  to  see  Moslim  appear 
before  the  waUs  of  their  city.  He  had,  in  fact,  started 
for  Mecca  immediately  after  the  conquest  of  Medina ;  but 
he  died  on  the  road,  and  the  command  was  taken  by 
.Hosain  b.  Nomair.  The  Omayyad  army  arrived  before 
Mecca  a  month  after  the  capture  of  Medina,  and  fotmd 
ribn  Zobair  ready  to  defend  it.  A  number  of  the  citizws 
of  Medina  had  come  to  the  aid  of  the  Holy  City,  as  well 
as  many  Khirijites  and  Shi'ites,  at  the  head  of  whom  was 
a  certain  Mokhtir  b.  Abi  'Olxiid,  who  subsequently 
played  a  very  important  part  in  'Irili:.  In  spite  of  the 
sorties  of  the  Meccans,  tho  Syrian  army  invested  the  city. 
Hosain  b.  Nomair  had  caused  balistas  to  be  placed  on 
the  neighbouring"  heights ;  and  these,  under  the  manage- 
ment of  an  Abyssinian  soldier,  hurled  against  the  Ealia 
enormous  stones  and  vc.<«els  full  of  blazing  bitumen,  with 
such  effect  that  the  temple  took  fire  and  was  consumed. 
After  a  siege  of  two  months,  Ibn  Zobair  was  beginning 
to  despair,  when  he  received,  through  an  Arab  of  the 
desert,  news  of  the  death  of  Yazld.  The  Caliph  had  in 
fact  died  on  the  IBth  of  Rabf  I.  (11th  November  683). 


Csp-.u.-o 
.-:.d  pil- 


Slrge  or 
Mecca. 


*  Ilarra  is  the  volcanic  district  outside  of  Slodiaa.     One  of  tho 
gates  of  the  city  is  called  tho  Cote  of  Harra. 


OUATYASe.] 


MOHAMMEDANISM 


569 


Hosain  b.  Nomair  inunediately  offered  the  Caliphatpe  to 
Ibn  Zobair,  on  condition  that  he  should  grant  a  complete 
amnesty  to  all  those  who  had  taken  part  in  the  battle  of 
Harra  and  in  the  siege  of  Mecca.  'AbdallAh  had  the  folly 
to  refuse,  and  Hosain  then  returned  to  Damascus. 
ibn  Zo-  Thus  rid  of  his  enemy,  'AbdalUh  caused  the  title  of 
hair  pro-  Prince  of  the  True  Believers  (Amir  al-mo'minin)  to  be 
"''''i"^  conferred  on  him — a  title  which  'Omar  had  already 
^"^;^,  received,  and  which  was  afterwards  adopted  by  all  the 
Uev«rs„  Caliphs.  He  sent  one  of  his  brothers,  "Obaid  Allih,  to 
Medina,  and  chose  as.  governor  of  Egypt  'Abd  al-RahmAn 
b.  Jahdam,  who  repaired  to  that  province,  and  caused  the 
authority  of  Ibn  Zobair  to  be  acknowledged  there.  At 
Basra  and  at  Cufa,  many  of  the  inhabitants  did  not 
hesitate  to  acknowledge  him,  and  received  a  Zobairite 
governor,  while  the  Kh4rijites  and  the  Shi'ites  rose  in 
revolt — the  former  at  Basra  under  the  leadership  of  Nifi" 
b.  Azrat,  the  latter  at  Cufa  under  that  of  SolaimAn  b. 
gorad — and  expelled  the  Omayyad  governor,  'Obaid 
All.ih  b.  Ziyid,  who  took  refuge  at  Damascus.  Mesopo- 
tamia soon  followed  the  example  of  'Irdfe.  Even  in  Syria, 
the  population  seemed  disposed  to  forsake  the  cause  of  the 
Omayyads.  The  Klulrijites  and  Mokhtir  b.  Abl  'Obaid, 
who  had  supported  Ibn  Zobair,  now  repented  of  having 
laboured  for  the  elevation  of  this  pretender,  and  quitted 
Mecca.  The  son  of  Zobair,  remaining  thenceforth  sole 
master  of  Mecca,  occupied  himself  tranquilly  in  rebuilding 
the  Kalia,  which  he  restored  on  its  ancient  foundations. 
Uo'iwl-  3.  It  was  in  the  midst  of  this  bre^-up  of  his  party 
y«  U.  that,  immediately  after  the  death  of  Yazid,  his  eldest  son, 
Mo'dTviya  IL,  was  elected  Caliph  at  Damascus  at  the  age  of 
only  seventeen  or  twenty.  He. was  a  young  man  of  weak 
character,  and  imbued,  it  is  said,  with  Shl"ite  opinions. 
He  felt  himself  incapable  of  ruling,  and  was  contemplating 
abdication,  when  he  died,  after  a  reign  of  but  forty  days, 
by  poison,  as  some  say ;  of  the  plague,  as  others  assert. 
The  Caliphate  was  immediately  offered  to  'Othmdn  b. 
"Otba  b.  Abi  Sofyin,  cousin  of  Mo'iwiya  IL  ;  for  KhiUid, 
the  second  son  of  Yazld,  was  only  sixteen  years  old. 
'Othmin  b.  "Otba,  however,  having  made  it  a  condition  of 
his  election  that  he  should  not  be  compelled  to  enter  on 
any  war,  or  to  condemn  any  one  to  death,  the  choice  fell 
at  Damascus  on  Merwin  b.  al-Hakam,  a  descendaiit  of 
Omayya  through  his  grandfather  Abtl  l-'As,  but  on  con- 
dition that  he  should  marry  Maisiin,  the  widow  of  Yazld, 
and  should  appoint  Khilid,  her  son,  as  his  successor. 
MorwCn  4.  MerwAn  b.  al-Hakam  had  been  secretary  to  the 
L  Caliph  "Othmin,  and  governor  of  Medina  under  Mo'Awiya 

L  Yarld,  on  his  accession  to  power,  had  dismissed  him 
and  put  Walld  b.  "Otba  in  his  place ;  but  MerwAn  had 
continued  to  live  at  Medina,  and  had  been  driven  from  it 
duiihg  the  revolt  of  the  year  63,  and  again  in  the  following 
year,  when  "Obaid  AllAh  b.  Zobair  had  taken  possession 
of  that  city  in  the  name  of  his  brother.  It  might  have 
been  thought  that  Merwin  would  cherish  a  deep  hatred 
of  "Abdallih  Ibn  Zobair ;  but  he  was  an  old  man  of  sixty- 
two  at  the  time  of  his  election,  and,  dreading  an  unequal 
struggle,  he  was  on  the  point  of  making  his  submission  to 
the  Meccan  Caliph.  The  drooping  courage  of  Merwin  was 
revived  by  his  son  'Abd  al-Melik  and  by  "Obaid  Allih  b. 
Ziydd,  and  he  resolved  to  try  the  chances  of  war. 

Dahbik  b.  ICais,  governor  of  Damascus,  had  declared 
himself  on  the  side  of  Ibn  Zobair,  and  had  raised  an  army, 
principally  from  among  the  tribe  of  Kais.  This  tribe  had 
taken  offence  because  Mo'imya  I.  and  Yazld  had  chosen 
their  wives  from  the  Yemenite  tribe  of  Kalb,  and,  con- 
tinuing to  resent  their  conduct,  now  refused  to  acknowledge 
Khilid  as  the  heir-presumptive  of  Merwin.  It  was  there- 
fore on  the  Yemenites  that  Merwin  had  to  depend  for  the 
suppression  of  Dahhik's  rebellion.     The  latter  had  an 

le— 21*» 


'army  of  nearly  sixty  thousand  horsemen,  while  Merwin 
could  bring  together  only  thirteen  thousand  infantry. 
The  two  armies  met  at  Marj  Rihit,  a  few  miles  from 
Damascus,  and,  after  a  series  of  combats  which  lasted  for 
twenty  days,  Merwin's  troops  gained  a  complete  victory, 
and  Dahhik  was  among  the  killed.  The  Syrian  provinces 
hastened  to  acknowledge  the  conqueror,  and  Merwin  was 
able  to  turn  his  attention  to  Egypt,  which,  as  will  be 
remembered,  had  submitted  to  the  Meccan.  'Abd  al- 
'Azlz,  a  son  of  Merwin,  had  already  marched  to  Aila  on 
the  Bed  Sea,  and  was  preparing  to  enter  Egypt ;  Merwin 
joined  him,  and  the  Zobairite  governor  of  Egypt,  beaten 
by  their  united  forces,  was  obliged  to  seek  safety  in  flight 
Merwin  made  'Abd  al-'Azlz  governor  of  the  province.  At 
the  beginning  of  the  year  65  (a.d.  684-685)  Merwin 
returned  in  haste  to  Sjrria;  for,  during  his  absence,  a 
brother  of  Ibn  Zobair,  named  Mos'ab,  had  invaded  that 
province.  Merwin  triumphed  over  Mos'ab ;  but  an  army 
of  four  thousand  men,  which  he  had  sent  to  the  Hijiz, 
and  in  which  was  Hajjij  b.  YTisuf — then  quite  a  young 
man,  but  who  afterwards  played  so  important  a  part  xmder 
"Abd  al  -  MeUk  —  was  cut  to  pieces.  This  defeat  was 
redeemed  by  a  victory  gained  by  his  generals,  "Obaid 
Allih  b.  Ziyid  and  Hosain  b.  Nomair,  at  "Ain  al-Warda 
over  a  small  army  of  Shi'ites  led  by  Solaimin  b.  Sorad. 
But  whOe  the  battle  was  being  fought  in  Ramadan  65 
(April-May  685),  Merwin  died ;  suffocated,  it  is  said,  by 
his  wife  Maisiin,  because  he  had  insulted  her  son  Khilid, 
and  had  broken  his  word  by  nominating  his  own  son 
'Abd  al-MeUk  as  his  successor.  The  accession  of  'Abd  al- 
MeUk  was  attended  with  no  difficulty,  as  he  was  acknow- 
ledged by  the  whole  of  Syria  and  Egypt.  The  Kaisites 
naturally  rallied  round  him,  because  he  had  not  a  drop  of 
Yemenite  blood  in  his  veins. 

6.  When  'Abd  al-Melik  ascended  the  throne,  there  still" AM i* 
remained  much  to  be  done  before  the  unity  of  the  empire  "^'^l*- 
could  be  re-established.  Ibn  Zobair  was  still  master  of 
Arabia  and  of  "Irik,  though  in  the  latter  province  hia 
authority  was  very  much  shaken  by  the  permanent  rebel- 
lion of  the  Shi'ites  at  Cufa,  and  of  the  Khirijites  at  Basra. 
The  Zobairite  general  Mohallab  had,  it  is  true,  succeeded 
in  forcing  back  the  Khirijites  into  Susiana  and  Persia; 
but  at  Cufa  the  Shi'ites,  at  the  instigation  of  Mokhtir, 
continued  their  agitation.  Mokhtir,  as  we  have  seen,  had 
vrithdrawn  from  Mecca  after  the  raising  of  the  siege  by 
Hasain  b.  Nomair.  He  returned  to  Cufa,  and  there 
fomented  serious  disturbances.  Many  of  the  inhabitants 
of  that  city  repented  bitterly  of  having  allowed  Hosain, 
the  grandson  of  the  Prophet,  to  be  massacred.  Amid  the 
general  disorder  of  the  Moslem  empire,  Mokhtir  hoped 
to  make  his  own  authority  acknowledged  in  'Irik  and 
Mesopotamia.  Se  put  himself  forward  as  the  avenger  of 
the  family  of  'All,  and  pretended  to  have  been  commissioned 
by  a  son  of  "All,  Mohammed  b.  Hanaflya,^  who  was  living 
at  Medina,  to  give  effect  to  his  rights  to  the  Caliphate. 
Many  Shlftes  believed  him,  and,  detesting  their  chief 
Solaimin  b.  Sorad,  joined  Mokhtir.  On  learning  these 
intrigues,  the  Zobairite  governor  threw  him  into  prison. 
Soon  after  the  defeat  of  Solaimin  at  "Ain  al-Warda,  at  the 
request  of  Mokhtir's  brother-in-law,  who  was  no  other 
than  "AbdaUih  the  son  of  "Omar,  the  governor  consented 
to  set  him  at  liberty,  on  his  swearing  to  make  no  further 
attempts  against  hiim.     As  Solaimin  had  fallen  on  the 


'  That  is  to  say,  the  son  of  the  Hanafite  woman.  Tlio  mother  of 
Mohammed  was  of  the  tribe  of  Hanifa.  Even  before  Mokhtar,  Mo-^ 
hammed  had  partisans  who  looked  on  bim  as  destined  to  be  Caliph. 
These  sectaiies  received  the  name  of  Kaisinites,  from  a  freeduinn  of. 
'AM,  called  Kaisin,  who  was  the  most  ardent  advocate  of  Moliammed'»J 
pretensions.  After  Mokhtir  bad  declared  in  favour  of  Mohamme4,^ 
his  supporters  received  the  name  of  Mokhtirite.s. 


570 


MOHAMMEDANISM 


[OMAYYIDS.' 


field  of  battle  at  '^Un  al-\Varda,  all  the  Shi'ites  now' 
acknowledged  Mokhtir  as  their  >  chief.  He,  however,  con- 
sidering himself  bound  by  his  oath,  remained  inactive 
until  the  governor  who  had  imposed  it  was  replaced  by 
'Abdallih  b.  Moti".  The  new  Zobairite  governor,  suspect- 
ing with  reason  that  Mokhtir  was  about  to  recommence 
his  intrigues,  thought  it  advisable  to  invite  him  to  his 
house,  with  the  intention  of  having  him  arrested.  Mokh- 
tilr  called  his  partisans  together,  and  plotted  with  them  to 
take  Ibn  Moti'  by  surprise.  As,  however,  Sa'd,  one  of  the 
Shl'ite  chiefs,  asked  for  a  delay  of  a  week,  for  the  purpose 
of  collecting  troops,  Mokhtdr  was  obliged  to  feign  illness 
in  order  to  evade  the  governor's  invitation,  and  took  care 
to  surround  himself  with  a  numerous  body  of  guards. 
Meanwhile  Sa'd,  who  had  only  demanded  this  delay  iu 
order  to  ascertain  the  real  wishes  of  Mohammed  b.  Hana- 
fiya,  sent  off  four  confidential  messengers  to  Medina,  to  ask 
Mohammed  whether  he  had  really  confided  the  care  of  his 
interests  to  MokhtAr.  Mohammed  contented  himself  with 
replying  vaguely  that  it  was  the  bounden  duty  of  every 
good  Jloslem  to  take  part  with  the  family  of  the  Prophet. 
These  words  were  interpreted  in  favour  of  Mokhtir,  and 
thenceforward  all  the  Shi'ites  followed  him  blindly  as 
their  chief.  Mokhtir  fixed  the  middle  of  the  month 
Eabi'  I.,  A.H.  66,  for  the  commencement  of  hostilities. 
During  the  night  of  the  13th  to  the  14th,  the  conspira- 
tors intended  to  gain  possession  of  the  city  by  a  coup 
de   main/   but    the    governor   was    on   his    guard,   and 

Revolt  of  Mokhtir  and  his  Shi'ites  took  the  course  of  leaving  Cufa. 

Mokhtir  They  numbered  sixteen  thousand  resolute  men.  All  the 
armies  which  "AbdaUih  b.  MotC  sent  against  them  were 
successively  beaten,  and  Mokhtir  soon  re-entered  Cufa  in 
triumph,  compelling  the  Zobairite  governor  to  flee  to  Basra. 
Once  master  of  Cufa,  Mokhtir  thought  himself  already  in 
possession  of  the  empire.  He  sent  emissaries  to  Medina, 
to  Mosul,  to  Madain,  and  even  into  Azerbaijin,  with 
orders  to  induce  the  people  to  take  the  oath  of  allegiance 
to  him.  He  then  sent  his  generals,  Yazid  b.  Anas  and 
Zofar,  against  the  Omaj'j'ad  army,  which  had  entered 
Mesopotamia  after  the  battle  of  'Aan  al-Warda,  and  these 
prevented  the  advance  of  the  Syrians  into  'Irilf.  Another 
of  Mokhtir's  generals,  Ibrihira  b.  MiUk,  inflicted  a  serious 
defeat  on  the  Syrians  near  Mosul,  and  'Obaid  Allih  b. 
Ziyid,  who  commanded  them,  fell  in  the  battle.  n)rihlm 
■was  rewarded  by  Mokhtir  with  the  government  of  Mosul. 
Mokhtir  himself  next  took  the  title  of  "  lieutenant  of  the 
Mahdl " '  and  inserted  in  the  Kholha,  on  Friday's  preaching, 
a  prayer  on  behalf  of  Mohammed  b.  Hanaflya  ;  which  was 
equivalent  to  declaring  him  Caliph.  After  this,  urged  on 
by  his  adherents,  he  caused  all  those  who  had  taken  part 
in  the  mas.sacre  of  Hosain,  the  grandson  of  the  Prophet, 
like  'Omar.b.  Sa'd  and  Shimr,  to  be  sought  out  and  put  to 
death. 

While  these  events  were  occurring,  the  Caliph  at 
Damascus,  "Abd  al-Melik,  sent  an  army  of  observation  to 
the  frontiers  of  Arabia.  Mokhtir,  having  been  informed 
of  this,  feigned  an  intention  to  help  Ibn  Zobair,  and  de- 
spatched a  body  of  three  thousand  men  from  Cufa,  under 
the  command  of  a  certain  ShariUl.  His  real  object  was 
to  concentrate  forces  at  Medina,  with  a  view  to  attacking 
Ibn  Zobair.  But  the  latter  penetrated  his  design,  and  two 
thousand  Meccans  marched  by  his  orders  to  meet  Sharihll, 
who  was  defeated. 

In  the  same  year  (a.h.  66)  Mohammed  b.  Hanafiya  had 
gone  to  Mecca  to  perform  the  ceremonies  of  the  pilgrimage. 


^  Mahdi,  or  "  the  wcll-giiided,"  is  the  name  given  by  the  ShCites  to 
that  member  of  the  family  of  'Ali  wlio,  according  to  their  belief,  is  oac 
day  to  gain  possession  of  the  whole  world,  and  set  up  the  reign  of 
righteousness  in  it.  In  Mokhtilr'n  tine,  Mobiunmcd  b.  Hauafiya  was 
looked  upon  as  the  Mahdi. 


Ibn  Zobair  took  advantage  of  tliis  to  seize  his  person,  and 
confined  him  in  a  small  house  adjoining  the  well  of  Zamzam, 
within  the  precincts  of  the  Ka'ba.  Mohammed  succeeded 
in  conveying  intelligence  of  his  detention  to  Mokhtir ;  and 
he,  delighted  to  find  his  aid  implored  by  the  very  man 
whose  follower  he  called  himself,  swore  to  effect  his  rescue. 
He  despatched  a  thousand  chosen  horsemen,  who  managed 
to  conceal  their  march  so  well,  that  they  were  under  the 
walls  of  Mecca  before  the  son  of  Zobair  had  been  able  to 
make  the  slightest  preparations  for  defence.  They  made 
their  way  into  the  Holy  City;  but,  being  iin-ivilling  to 
draw  the  sword  on  that  .sacred  ground,  they  armed  them-: 
selves  with  sticks,  broke  in  the  doors  of  the  house  in  which 
Mohammed  b.  Hanaflya  was  imprisoned,  rescued  him,  and 
escorted  him  out  of  the  city.  A  son  of  Mohammed,  called 
'.iVlf,  who  had  also  been  thrown  into  prison,  likewise  suc- 
ceeded in  escaping,  and  rejoined  ids  father  at  some  distance 
from  Mecca. 

In  the  following  year,  Ibn  Zobair,  who  was  detennined 
to  get  rid,  at  all-  costs,  of  so  dangerous  an  adversary  as 
Mokhtir,  ordered  his  brother  Mos'ab  to  elTcct  a  junction 
with  MohaUab,  the  conqueror  of  the  Khirijites,  and  to 
march  against  Cufa.  ilos'ab  and  Mohallab  invested  that 
city,  and  Mokhtir,  making  a  sortie  against  them,  was 
beaten,  taken  prisoner,  and  beheaded.  'Irik  thus,  for  Peath  of 
the  second  time,  fell  under  the  rule  of  Ibn  Zobair.  Jlokhtir. 
Ibri'iirn  b.  Milik,  who  held  Mosul  in  the  name  of 
Mokhtir,  submitted  to  the  conquerors,  on  condition  of 
retaining  his  government ;  but  Mos'ab  deprived  Lini  of 
lus  office,  and  put  Mohallab  in  his  place.  He  himself 
was  appointed  governor  of  'Irik;  by  his  brother,  and, 
having  installed  himself  at  Basra,  placed  Cnfa  under  the 
orders  of  bis  lieutenant  Hirith.  The  year  after,  the 
Khirijites  of  Susiana  raised  a  frash  insurrection,  xind 
invaded  'Irit  Mohallab  had  to  be  recalled  from  Mosid, 
and  during  his  absence  it  was  Ibr:ihlm  b.  Milik  whom 
Mos'ab  chosa  to  supply  his  place.  The  period  of  the 
pilgrimage  caused  a  momentary  tnice  to  all  these  struggles, 
and  in  that  year  was  seen  the  curious  spectacle  of  four 
different  standards  planted  near  Mecca,  belonging  respe<t 
tively  to  four  party  chiefs,  each  of  whom  was  a  pretender 
to  the  empire :  the  standard  of  "AbdoUah  b.  Zobair, 
Caliph  of  Mecca ;  that  of  the  Caliph  of  Damascus,  'Abd 
al-Melik  ;  that  of  the  son  of  'All,  Mohammed  b.  Hanafiya ; 
and  that  of  the  Khirijites,  who  were  at  thai,  time  under 
the  command  of  Najda  b.  'Amir.  Such,  however,  was 
the  respect  inspired  by  the  holy  places,  that  no  disorders 
resulted  from  the  presence  of  so  many  inveterate  rivals. 

The  Omaj-j'ad  Caliph,  whose  troops  had  been  beaten 
in  Mesopotamia,  and  who  had  been  hitherto  content  to 
watch  the  frontiers  of  Arabia,  was  again  prevented  from 
pushing  on  military  operations  more  actively  by  tho 
breaking  out  of  troubles  in  Syria.  At  the  beginning 
of  A.H.  69  (a.d.  688-689),  'Abd  al-Melik  having  left 
Damascus  at  the  head  of  a  numerous  army,  with  the 
purpose  of  marching  against  'Irik,  the  Oniayyad  'Amr  b.  'Amr  k 
Sa'id,  whom  he  had  appointed  governor  of  Damascus,  took  Said, 
advantage  of  his  absence  to  lay  claim  to  the  supreme  power, 
and  to  have  himself  proclaimed  Caliph  by  his  partisans. 
'Abd  al-Melik  was  obliged  to  retrace  his  steps,  and  to  lay 
siege  to  his  own  capital.  The  garrison  of  Damascus  took 
fright,  and  deserted  their  posts ;  so  t'lat  'Amr  b.  Sa'id, 
abandoned  by  his  followers,  was  compelled  to  surrender  at 
discretion.  'Abd  al-Melik  at  first  meant  to  spare  him,  but 
he  afterwards  changed  his  mind,  and  strack  off  his  head 
with  his  own  hand.  Scarcely  had  he  suppressed  this  revolt, 
when  the  Emperor  of  Con.stantinople,  Justinian  II.,  in  viola- 
tion of  the  thirty  years'  truce  formerly  concluded  between 
Mo'Awiya  I.  and  Consl;antine  PV.,  sent  a  Greek  army  to 
invade.  Syria.     'Abd  al-Molik  was  obliged  to  buy  peace 


KOMAYV.VDS.] 


MOHAMMEDANISM 


571 


jDcond 
fdege  of 

Ueco3. 


/or  the  time,  for  he  required  all  his  forces  to  dispute  the 
empiro  with  the  son  of  Zobair.  He  consented,  it  is 
tisserted,  to  pay  the  Greeks  an  indemnity  of  one  thousand 
pieces  of  gold  weekly.  He  then  gave  his  attention  to  the 
renewal  of  the  projected  expedition  against  'IrAfc  Mos'ab 
the  2k)bairite  had  rendered  himself  odious  to  the  inhabit- 
ants of  Basra  and  Cufa  by  his  exactions,  and  a  party 
favouriible  to  'Abd  al-MeUk  was  already  forming  in  those 
cities.  The  Omayyad  Caliph  marched  forth  at  the  head 
of  an  army  composed  of  Syrians  and  Egyptians,  and 
encamped  three  parasangs  from  the  plain  of  Dair  al- 
Jithalik,  not  far  from  the  site  of  Baghdid,  where  Mos'ab 
had  established  his  army.  Before  joining  battle,  'Abd  al- 
Melik  had  written  secretly  to  all  the  chiefs  of  Mos'ab's 
army,  making  them  the  most  seductive  promises  if  they 
would  agree  .to  desert  the  cause  of  Mos'ab.  This  step  was 
crowned  with  success,  and  on  the  eve  of  the  battle,  which 
took  place  on  the  13th  Jom4df  II.,  a.h.  71  (23d  Nov- 
ember 6D0),  several  of  these  generals  passed  into  the 
amp  of  'Abd  al-Melik  with  arms  and  baggage.  Mos'ab 
nevertheless  attacked  his  enemy,  but  during  the  battle  he 
found  himself  deserted  by  his  troops,  and,  not  choosing 
to  survive  his  defeat,  he  caused  himself  to  be  ,ilain.  This 
victory  opened  the  gates  of  Cufa  to  'Abd  al-Melik,  and  all 
'Irdlj:  X'oceived  him  with  acclamations.  He  remained  forty 
days  at  Cufa,  and  then,  having  given  the  government  to 
his  brother  Bishr,  while  Khdlid  b.  'Abdallih  received  that 
of  Basra,  ho  returned  in  triumph  to  Damascus.  Soon 
after,  the  Omayyad  arms  having  sustained  a  check  from 
the  Kh.irijites  in  Fdrsistin,  the  Caliph  gave  Khilid  orders 
to  march  against  those  sectaries  ^vith  the  support  of 
Mohallab,  who  was  their  terror,  and  of  the  governor  of 
Eey.  Khilid  succeeded  completely  in  this  expedition, 
and  drove  the  Khirijites  out  of  AhwAz,  Firsistiin,  and 
Kirmiiu.  On  his  side,  the  Omayyad  Caliph  stirred  up  a 
revolt  in  Khorisdn,  a  province  which  still  remained  faithful 
to  the  Zobairite  cause.  Its  governor  was  treacherously 
assassinated  by  his  lieutenant  Bokair,  who  received,  as  the 
price  of  this  service,  the  governorship  of  the  province. 

Only  Arabia  now  remained  to  Ibn  Zobair.  In  a.h.  72 
'Abd  al-Melik  made  preparations  for  depriving  him  of  it. 
Accordingly  he  raised  an  army;  but  when  his  generals 
found  that  another  siege  of  Mecca  was  in  contemplation, 
not  one  of  them  was  willing  to  accept  such  a  mission.  An 
obscure  officer,  Hajjdj  b.  Yi'isuf,  boldly  offered  to  lead  the 
expedition.  'Abd  al-Melik  had  little  confidence  in  him, 
and  therefore  at  first  placed  only  two  or  three  thousand 
horsemen  under  his  command.  Hajjdj  set  out,  traversed 
the  Hijiz  without  resistance,  and  pitched  his  camp  at  T^, 
not  far  from  Mecca.  Ibn  Zobair  tried  to  dislodge  him ; 
but  in  the  frequent  encounters  between  his  troops  and 
those  of  HajjAj,  the  latter  always  had  the  advantage. 
'Abd  al-Melik  then  decided  on  sending  him  a  reinforcement 
of  five  thousand  men,  on  receiving  which  Hajjij  invested 
Mecca.  The  blockade  lasted  several  months,  during  which 
the  citj'  was  a  prey  to  all  the  horrors  of  siege  and  famine. 
Hajjaj  had  set  up  balistas  on  the  neighbouring  heights, 
and  poured  a  hail  of  stones  on  the  city  and  the  Ka'ba. 
Famine  at  length  triumphed  over  the  last  adherents  of  the 
son  of  Zobair.  Ten  thousand  fighting  men,  and  even 
several  of  the  sons  of  the  pretender,  left  the  city  and 
surrendered.  Mecca  being  thus  left  without  defenders, 
HajjAj  took  possession  of  it  and  invested  the  Ka'ba.  Then 
the  son  of  Zobair,  seeing  that  ruin  was  inevitable,  went  to 
Ids  mother  AsmA,  who  had  reached  the  age  of  a  hundred, 
and  asked  her  counsel.  She  answered  that  he  must  die 
sword  in  hand ;  and  when,  in  embracing  him  for  the  last 
time,  she  felt  the  cuirass  which  he  wore,  she  exclaimed 
that  such  a  precaution  was  luiworthy  of  a  man  resolved  to 
jierish.    'AbdallAh  tool:  oif  his  cuirass,  and  taking  refuge  in 


the  Ka'ba,  passed  the  night  there  in  prayer.  At  daybrr:ik  of 
the  14th  of  Jomidl  L  in  the  year  73  (Ist  October  692), 
the  Omayyad  troops  made  their  way  into  the  mosque. 
'Abdallih  attacked  them  furiously,  notwithstanding  his 
advanced  age,  but  at  last  fell,  overwhelmed  by  numbers. 
His  head  was  cut  off,  carried  to  HajjAj,  and  sent  by  the 
victorious  general  to  Damascus.^ 

With  Ibn  Zobair  perished  the  influence  which  the  early 
companions  of  Mohammec'  had  hitherto  exercised  over  Islam. 
Medina  and  Mecca,  though  they  continued  to  be  the  Holy 
Cities,  had  no  longer  the  political  importance  which  had 
enabled  them  to  maintain  a  struggle  with  Damascus. 
Temporal  interests,  represented  by  Damascus,  will  hence- 
forth have  precedence  over  those  of  religion ;  policy  will 
outweigh  fanaticism ;  ^  and  the  centre  of  Islam,  now  per- 
manently removed  beyond  the  limits  of  Arabia,  will  be 
mora  easily  affected  by  foreign  influences,  and  assimilate 
more  readily  their  civilizing  elements.  Damascus,  Cufa, 
and  Basra  will  attract  the  flower  of  all  the  Moslem 
provinces ;  and  thus  that  great  intellectual,  literary,  and 
scientific  movement  which  is  to  reach  its  apogee  under  the 
'Abb.feid  Caliphs  at  Baghdid,  will  become  daily  mora 
marked. 

By  the  death  of  the  son  of  Zobair,  'Abd  al-Melik 
remained  sole  Caliph;  for  Mohammed  b.  Hanafiya 
reckoned  for  nothing  since  the  death  of  Mokhtir,  whose 
creature  he  had  been.  The  only  remaining  danger  was 
from  the  Kidrijites,  who,  though  incessantly  repulsed,  as 
incessantly  returned  to  the  charge.  HajjAj  had  remained 
after  his  victory  at  Mecca,  wlere  he  was  occupied  in 
rebuilding  the  Ka'ba,  ruined  for  the  second  time  by  his 
engines  of  war.  In  the  year  75,  'Abd  al-Melik,  alarmed 
at  the  news  which  reached  him  from  Persia  and  IrAk, 
named  HajjAj  governor  of  that  province,  and  gave  him  the 
most  extensive  powers  for  the  re-establishment  of  order. 
The  troops  of  "Ir4k,  'who  accompanied  Mohallab  in  an 
expedition  against  the  Khdrijites,  had  abandoned  their 
general  and  dispersed  to  their  homes,  and  nothing  could 
induce  them  to  return  to  their  duty.  Hajjaj,  arriving 
ilnexpectedly  at  Cufa,  ascended  the  pulpit  at  the  moment 
when  the  people  were  assembled  for  morning  prayers,  and 
delivered  au  energetic  address  to  them,  which  depicts  his 
character  so  well,  that  some  passages  from  it  may  be 
cited : — 

■"Men  of  Cufa,  I  see  tofore  me  heads  ripe  for  the  harvest,  and 
the  reaper — I  am  he  I  I  seem  to  myseff  already  to  see  blood 
between  turbans  and  shoulders.  I  am  not  one  of  those  who  can 
be  frightened  by  an  inflated  bag  of  sHn,  nor  need  any  one  think 
to  squeeze  me  like  dried  figs.  I  have  been  chosen  on  good 
grounds  ;  and  it  is  because  I  have  been  seen  at  work  that  I  have 
been  picked  out  from  among  others.  The  Prince  of  the  Believers 
has  spread  before  him  the  arrows  of  his  quiver,  and  has  tried  every 
one  of  them  by  biting  its  wood.  It  is  my  wood  that  he  has  found 
the  hardest  and  the  bittorest,  .^nd  I  am  the  arrow  which  ho  shoots 
against  you." 

Thereupon  Hajjij  ordered  that  every  man  capable  of 
bearing  arms  should  immediately  join  Mohallab  in  Susiana, 
and  swore  that  all  who  made  any  delay  should  have  their 
heads  struck  oS.  This  threat  produced  its  effect,  and 
HajjAj  proceeded  to  Basra,  where  his  presence  was  followed 
by  the  same  restdt.  Mohallab,  reinforced  by  the  army  of 
'IrAk,  at  last  succeeded,  after  a  struggle  of  eighteen 
months,  in  subjugating  the  Khirijites,  and  was  able,  at 
the  beginning  of  A.H.  78,  to  return  to  HajjAj  at  Basra. 
The   latter  loaded    bim   with    honours  and  made    him 


'AW  al- 
Melik 


Caliph. 


Hajjill  ib 
'irik. 


^  On  these  events,  see  Quatremfere,  Memoirs  hi^torique  sur  la  fj> 
(TAba-AUah  b.  Zobair.     raris,  1832. 

'  It  is  said  that  the  Caliph  "Abd  al-Melik  aOTected  great  piety  before 
his  elevation.  At  the  moment  when  he  was  fir.^t  saluted  with  the  title 
of  Caliph,  ho  closed  a  copy  of  the  Sorun  which  was  in  his  hands,  say* 
ing  :  *'  We  must  now  part." 


672 


MOHAMMEDANISM 


[OMAYYADS. 


governor  of  Kliorisin,^  whence  he  directed  several  expedi- 
tions against  Transoxiana. 

■WTiilo  Mohallab  was  fightbg  against  the  Khirijites  in 
Persia,  Hajjdj  himself  had  had  to  struggle  against  rebel- 
lion. Three  Kliirijites,  Silili,  Shablb,  and  Motarrif,  had 
succeeded  in  creating  a  party  in  Mesopotamia  and  'InSt 
The  second  had  even  pushed  his  audacity  so  far  as  to 
march  upon  Cufa,  and  for  a  moment  had  occupied  that 
city.  Hajjij  overcame  the  rebels ;  and  through  his 
vigilance,  Katarl  b.  al-Foj.i'a,  another  KhArijite  chief,  after 
being  pursued  as  far  as  Xabaristan,  on  the  Ca!.-pian  Sea, 
■was  taken  and  killed  by  two  Omayyod  generals. 

When  he  gave  the  government  of  Khorisin  to  Mohallab, 
HajjAj  had  committed  that  of  Sijistdn  to  'Obaid  AllAh  b. 
Abi  Bakra.  At  the  beginning  of  a.h.  79,  'Obaid  Allih's 
troops  were  beaten  by  the  king  of  Kibill.  Hajj^  th'ought 
it  advisable  to  remove  'Obaid  Allih  and  to  replace  him 
by  the  captain  of  his  guards,  'Abd  al-Ralimin  b.  al-Ash'ath, 
rbn  ol-  This  was  a  bad  choice,  for  Ibn  al-Ash'ath  had  often  given 
Atli'at!'..  proofs  of  an  insubordinate  temper,  and  Hajj^  soon  had 
occasion  to  repent  of  it.  In  fact,  soon  after  his  arrival 
in  Sijistin,  'Abd  al-Rahmin,  whose  army  was  composed 
of  contingents  from  Cufa  and  Ba-sra,  always  ready  for 
revolt,  conceived  the  design  of  an  insurrection  against  the 
authority  of  Hajjaj.  Popular  movements  often  go  beyond 
iho  object  first  proposed;  and  not  only  did  the  troops 
welcome  joyfully  the  idea  of  marching  against  the  hated 
governor  of  'Iri^  but  they  even  proclaimed  the  dethrone- 
ment of  'Abd  ai-MeUk,  and  saluted  Ibn  al-Ash'ath  as 
Caliph.  The  new  pretender  entered  Firsistin  and  AhwAz, 
and  it  was  in  this  last  province,  near  Shuster,  that 
Hajjdj  came  up  with  him,  after  receiving  from  Syiia  the 
reinforcements  which  he  had  demanded  in  all  haste  from 
the  Caliph.  Hajjdj  was  beaten  and  obliged  to  retreat. 
Ibn  al-Ash'ath  pursued  him  as  far  as  Basra,  which  opened 
its  gates  to  bim ;  but  fortune  soon  changed,  and  he 
■was  again  driven  out  by  his  adversary.  Ibn  al-Ash'ath 
tl'.en  turned  his  arms  against  Cufa,  and  ■with  aid  from 
■nithin,  obtained  possession  of  it;  thus  cutting  the  com- 
munications of  Hajjdj  ■with  Syria.  The  latter,  thus  com- 
pelled to  leave  Basra,  took  the  field,  and  pitched  his 
camp  at  Dair  al-Jamdjim,  two  days'  journey  from  Basra. 
Ibn  al-Ash'ath  marched  against  him  at  the  head  of  his 
army.  The  condition  of  'Irdlf  caused  the  greatest  uneasi- 
ness at  Damascus,  and  'Abd  al-MeUk  hoped  to  stifle  the 
revolt  by  proposing  to  the  insurgents  the  dismissal  of 
Hajjdj  from  his  post  The  insurgents  rejected  this  offer, 
and  hostilities  recommenced.  At  the  end  of  three  months, 
in  Jomidf  IL,  A.n.  83  (July  702),  a  decisive  action 
took  place.  Victory  declared  for  Hajjdj.  Ibn  al-Ash'ath 
fled  to  Basra,  where  ha  managed  to  collect  frefh  troops ; 
but,  having  been  again  l>eaten,  he  took  refuge  in  Susiana, 
from  which  ho  was  driven  by  a  son  of  Hajjdj.  The  rebel 
then  retired  into  Sijistin,  and  afterwards  sought  an  asj^jn 
■with,  the  king  of  KdbiiL  As  soon  as  Ms  partisans  had 
rejoined  him,  he  penetrated  into  Khordsdn,  in  order  to 
raise  an  insurrection  there.  The  governor  of  tiiis  province 
was  at  that  time  Yazld,  son  of  the  celebrated  Mohallab, 
who  had  died  in  the  year  82.  Yadd  marched  against 
Ibn  al-Ash'ath,  and  cut  his  ormy  to  pieces.  From  that 
time  the  pretender  disappeared ;  and  it  is  thought  that, 
having  again  taken  refuge  ■with  the  king  of  Kdbiil,  he 
was  betrayed  by  him  and  put  to  death.'     It  was  duiing 


'  In  A.H.  78,  'Abd  al-Melik  had  made  KhorisdnandSijistan depend- 
ent on  the  governor  of  'Iriik,  so  that  Hajjdj  had  the  right  of  directly 
Don.inating  the  go'/emora  of  those  provinces 

'  Thia  king  of  KAbdl  is  called  RatbCl  or  Rotbil  by  some  historians, 
»nd  Zenbfl  by  others.  See  'Weil,  OeschuJilt  dfr  Chali/en,  i.  HO; 
Tabari,  trinsl.  by  Zotenberg,  iv.  127  ;  and  Mas'iidi,  transl.  by  Barbier 
de  Meynard,  index,  t.  v.  KotbU.     According  to  Abulfeda's  Oeography, 


this  long  struggle  tnat,  in  the  year  83,  Hajjaj«-!ai.l  the 
foundations  of  the  city  of  "VV'dsit  (the  Intermediate) ;  bo 
called  because  it  is  situated  midway  between  Cufa  and 
Basra.  Some  time  after  the  suppression  of  this  revolt,  in 
the  year  84,  Hajjdj  deprived  Yadd  b.  Mohallab  of  the 
government  of  Khordsdn,  accusing  him  of  partiality 
towards  the  rebels,  and  appointed  in  his  stead  first  his 
brother  Mofaddal  b.  Mohallab,  and  nine  months  after 
Kotaiba  b.  Moslim,  who  was  destined  at  a  later  period  to 
e.xtend  the  sway  of  the  Moslems  in  the  East  as  far  as 
China. 

VSTiile  these  events  were  taking  place,  'Abd  al-MeUk  Progwta 
■was  engaged  in  the  West  in  a  struggle  against  the  Greeks,  of  *^ 
We  have  seen  that  in  the  year  69  the  Caliph,  compeUed  ^^'" 
as  he  then  was  to  direct  all  his  eflbrts  towards  'L-alf  and 
Arabia,  had  concluded  a  disgraceful  peace  with  Justinian 
IL      It  ■was  not  till   A.n.  73  (a.d.    692-693)   that  he 
resumed  hostilities  in  Armenia,  Asia  Mmor,  and  Africa. 
The   operations   in   Asia    Minor   and   in   Armenia   were 
entrusted  to  Mohammed  b.  Merwdn,  brother  of  the  Caliph, 
and  to  'Othmdn  b.  Walld.      They  beat  the  Greeks  at 
first ;    but,   in   consequence   of   subsequent  reverse^   the 
Moslems   were   compelled    to   accept    peace,    which   iv&s 
broken  anew  by  the  Greeks  about  the  year  .75  or  76,  the 
Caliph  in  one  of  his  letters  to  Justinian  IL  having  used 
expressions  which  displeased  the  Christian  monarch.     In 
retaliation,  Justinian  threatened  to  have  legends  offensive 
to  Islam  struck  on  his  coins.     As,  up  to  that  tune,  the 
Moslems  had  no  special  coinage  of  their  own,  and  princi-  Tirst 
pally  used  Byzantine  and  Persian  money,  this  menace  led  Ar^W* 


'Abd  al-MeUk  to  institute  a  purely  Arabic .  coinage.  It 
was  a  Jew  of  Taimd,  named  Somair,  who  commenced  its 
fabrication.  Justinian  IL  refused  to  receive  these  coins 
in  payment  of  the  tribute,  and  declared  the  treaty  at  an 
end.  The  incensed  Moslems  fought  valiantly,  and  'suc- 
ceeded in  extending  their  frontiers  to  Mar'ash,  on  the 
side  of  Asia  Minor,  and  to  Amid,  on  the  side  of  Armenia. 
From  this  time  forth  the  Moslems  made  yearly  expedi- 
tions against  the  Greeks  ;  but  they  were  only  razzias,  for 
which  the  Greeks  often  avenged  themselves  by  incursions 
into  the  territory  of  Lslam. 

In  Africa  we  have  seen  that  'Olfba  b.  Ndfi'  had  been 
slain  hy  the  Berbers,  who  had  taken  Kairawdn.  In  tlie 
year  73  'Abd  al-Melik  sent  Kassdn  b.  No'min  into 
Africa,  at  the  head  of  a  numerous  army.  He  retook 
Kaira^n-dn,  swept  the  coast  as  far  as  Carthage,  expelling 
the  Greek  garrisons  from  all  the  fortified  places,  and 
then,  turning  his  arms  against  the  Berbers,  beat  them  so 
completely  that  they  submitted  for  a  long  time  to  the 
tribute  and  the  conscription.  But  when  Hassdn  left  Africa, 
the  Greeks,  under  the  successor  of  Justinian,  retook  the 
ccast-line.  Hassdn  prepared  to  return  to  Africa,  but  he 
previously  demanded  from  the  governor  of  Egypt,  'Abd 
al-'Azij,  the  recall  of  a  freedman,  whom  he  had  appointed 
governor  of  a  part  of  the  province  of  Africa.  'Abd  al- 
'A^ij.  refused,  and  Ha.ssdn  went  to  Damascus  to  complaifl 
to  the  Caiiph.  Soon  after  his  arrival  at  the  capital  he 
died,  and  the  governor  of  Egypt  placed  MilsA  b.  Nosair 
at  the  head  of  the  expedition.  This  general  reconquered 
the  seaboard  as  far  as  Carthage,  rjjd  drove  the  Greeks 
permanently  from  it.  The  daring  Miisd  continued  his 
triumphant  march,  and  took  possession  of  the  whole  of 
the  coast  to  Tlcmcen.  One  of  his  lieutenants,  in  tha 
year  82,  carried  a  reconnaissance  by  sea  as  far  as  Sicily. 
The  Moslem  fleet  having  been  destroyed  by  a  storm, 
Musd  equipped  another,  and  entrusted  its  command  to  his 
brother  'AbdaUdh,  who  returned  to  Sicily  and  effected  a 


coinag*! 


p.  343,  rbn  al-Asli'ath  was  killed  in  the  province  of  Arrokhaj  (Ai7&< 
chosin),  and  bia  bead  waa  sent  to  Damafciu  and  E^pt 


jSUAYYADS.] 


MOHAMMEDANISM 


573 


Tfizzia  there.  MerwAn,  the  father  of  'Ahd  al-ilelik,  had 
dcsigiiated  as  successor  to  the  latter  his  other  son,  'Abd 
fcl-'Azfz,  governor  of  Egypt.  'Abd  al-'Aziz  having  died 
in  the  year  84,  'Abd  al-Melik; chose  aa  heirs  of  the  empire, 
(first  his  son  Walid,  and  after  him  hia  second  son  Solaiin4n.' 
He  himself  survived  "Abd  a"l-'^.2iz  only  two  years,  and 
(died  14th  Shawwil  86  (8th  October  705),  at  the  age 
of  about  sixty.  His  reign  was  one  of  the  most  unquiet 
in  the  annals  of  Islam,  but  also  one  of  the  most 
glorious.  "Abd  al-Melik  not  only  brought  triumph  to  the 
cause  of  the  Omayyads,  but  extended  ani  strengthened 
the  Moslem  power  externally. '  Amid  so  many  grave 
anxieties,  he  yet  found  time  for  his  pleasures.  He  was 
pa'5sionately  fond  of  poetry,  and  his  court  was  crowded 
■with  pijcts,  whom  he  loaded  vrith  favours,  even  if  they 
■were  Christians,  like  AkhtaL  In  his  reign  flourished 
also  the  two  celebrated  rivals  of  Akhtal,  Jarir  and 
Farazdalj:.' 
Wslfd  I.'  6.  Immediately  on  his  accession  Walid  confirmed 
Hajjilj  in  the  government  of  "IrAfe,  and  appointed  as 
governor  of  Medina  his  cousin  'Omar  b.  'Abd  al-'Azlz,  ■who 
■was  received  there  wiUi  joy,  his  piety  and  gentle  character 
being  well  known.  Under  his  government  important 
■works  ■were  undertaken  at  Mediaa  and  Mecca  by  order  of 
■WaUd,  who,  having  no  rivals  to  struggle  against,  was 
able  to  give  his  attention  to  pacific  occupations.  The 
mosque  of  Medina  was  enlarged,  wells  ■were  sunk,  the 
streets  widened,  and  .  hospital!  established.  At  Mecca 
many  improvements  were  introduced.  The  reputation  of 
'Omar  attracted  to  the  two  Holy  Cities  a  great  number  of 
the  inhabitants  of  'Irik,  who  were  groaning  under  the  iron 
hand  of  HajjAj.  The  latter,  ■who  was  not  a  man  to  let  his 
prey  escape  from  his  grasp,  was  so  urgent  ■with  WaUd 
that  he  obtained  the  dismissal  of  'Omar  b.  'Abd  al-'Aziz  in 
the  year  93,  and  the  appoiatment  of  'OthmAn  b.  Hayydn 
at  Medina,  and  of  Khilid  b.  'Abdallih  at  Mecca,  These 
two  prefects  compelled  the  refugees  at  Mecca  and  Medina 
to  return  to  'Irilf,  •where  many  of  them  were  cruelly  treated 
and  even  put  to  death  by  HajjAj.  It  ■was  probably  his 
craelty  which  drove  so  many  men  of  'IrAlf  to  enlist  in  the 
armies  of  the  East  and  the  South ;  and  this  may  in  some 
degree  account  for  the  unheard-of  successes  of  Kotaiba  b. 
Moslim  in  Transoxiana,  and  of  Mohammed  b.  KAsim  in 
India.  They  may  also  be  explained  by  the  ambition  of 
Hajjiij,  who,  it  is  said,  cherished  the  project  of  creating 
a  vast  empire  for  himself  to  the  east  and  south  of  the 
Moslem  realm,  and  had  secretly  promised  the  government 
of  China  to  the  first  of  his  generals  who  should  reach  that 
'  country.  Be  this  as  it  may,  in  the  coiirse  of  a  very  few 
years  Kotaiba  conquered  the  whole  of  Bokharia,  KhArizm, 
and  Triinsoxiana  or  MA  ■warA-annahr,  as  far  as  the  frontiers 
of  China.  Meanwhile  Mohammed  b.  KAsim  invaded 
MokrAn,  Sind,  and  Miiltdn,  carried  o£f  an  immense  booty, 
and  reduced  the  women  and  children  to  slavery.  In 
Armenia  and  Asia  Minor,  Maslama,  brother  of  the  Caliph 
WaUd,  and  his  lieutenants,  also  obtained  numerous  suc- 
cesses against  the  Greeks.  In  Armenia,  Maslama  even 
advanced  as  far  as  the  Caucasus. 
On-  The  most  important  achievement,  however,  of  Walld's 

W»«t  reign  ■was  the  conquest  of  Spain.  The  narrative  of  this 
rfSpain.  conquest  belongs  specially  to  the  history  of  Spain  ;  and  we 
shall  therefore  only  touch  briefly  on  it  here.  We  have  seen 
that,  even  in  the  Caliphate  of  'Abd  al-Melik,  MiisA  b. 
Nosair  had  penetrated  as  far  as  Tlemcen  in  Africa.  Under 
"Walid,  MiisA,  who  had  been  appointed  governor  of  Africa, 
entered   Morocco,  occupied   Fez  and   Tangier,  and   then 


*  'Abd  al'McIik  had  several  other  sons,  tv.-o  of  whom,  Yaad  und 
Bi3ham,  also  reigned. 

'  Sea  Caniaio  de  Perceval,  Journal  asiaiitiM,  2*  eerie,  vols.  xiii. 
and  zir. 


returned  to  KairawAn,  having  made  his  lieutenant  TAriV 
governor  of  Tangier  and  of  all  the  West  of  Africa.  The 
town  of  Ceuta  still  held  out  under  its  governor  Julian, 
who  held  it  in  the  name  of  Witiza,  ICing  of  Spain.  Witiza 
having  been  dethroned  by  Roderic,  Julian  thought  he 
might  find  the  Arabs  usefxU  allies  in  the  struggle  ■which 
he  proposed  to  carry  on  against  the  usurper '  and  entered 
into  negotiations  vrith  Tirik.  The  latter,  foreseeing  the 
possibility  of  conquering  for  the  advantage  of  the  Arabs  a 
country  which  had  been  represented  to  him  as  a  paradise, 
requested  instructions  from  MiisA,  who  referred  the  matter 
to  the  Caliph.  WaUd  gave  MiisA  carte  blanche,  and  TArik 
hastened  to  malce  aUiance  ■with  Julian.  He  first,  however, 
sent  four  ships,  ■vrith  five  hundred  men  under  the  command, 
of  Tarlf,  to  reconnoitre  the  coimtry.  This  expedition  was 
successful,  and  TArik,  now.  certain  of  meeting  no  serious 
opposition  to  his  landing,  passed  into  Spain  himseU,  at  the 
head  of  twelve  thousand  men,  in  the  year  92  (a.d.  710-711), 
and  landed  at  the  spot  which  thence  received  the  name  of 
Jabal-TArik,  or  "  Mountain  of  TArik,"  a  name  which  ■was 
afterwards  corrupted  by  the  Westerns  into  Gibraltar.  At 
the  nevra  of  this  invasion,  Roderic  led  a  numerous  army 
against  the  Arabs,  but  was  completely  routed  near  Cadiz, 
and  perished  in  the  conflict.  MisA,  jealous  of  the 
success  of  his  lieutenant,  hastened  to  Spain  ■with  eighteen 
thousand  men,  and  his  first  step  on  arriving  ■was  to  send 
TArik  orders  to  suspend  his  march.  But  T^rik,  far  from 
obeying,  divided  his  Uttle  army  into  three  corps,  and 
obtained  possession  successively  of  Ec\ja,  Malaga,  Elvira, 
Cordova,  and  Toledo.  MusA,  hopeless  of  arresting  the 
victorious  march  of  T^rik,  determined  to  play  the  part  of 
a  conqueror  himself,  and  took  Seville,  Carmona,  and 
Merida,  On  rejoining  TArik  at  Toledo,  the  first  step  .he 
took  ■was  to  throw  him  into  prison.  The  CaUph,  how- 
ever, gave  orders  that  he  should  be  set  at  liberty  and 
restored  to  his  command.  The  two  conquerors  then 
shared  the  country  between  them,  and,  in  less  than 
three  years,  all  Spain'  was  subdued,  to  the  very  foot  of 
the  Pyrenees.  Mean^while  WaUd,  fearing  to  see  MiisA 
declare  his  independence,  recalled  him  to  Damascus.  He 
obeyed  after  appointing  his  son  'Abd  al-'Azlz  governor  of 
Spain,  and  assigning  Se^viUe  as  his  residence.  MiisA  left 
Spain  in  the  month  of  Safar,  a.h.  95  (October-November 
713),  in  company  ■with  T^rik,  bringing  an  immense  booty  to 
Damascus,  and  leading  in  his  train  a  great  number  of 
prisonei-s.  His  journey  from  Ceuta  to  Damascus  was 
one  long  triumpk  He  reached  Egypt  in  the  month  of 
Rabl'  L  in  the  following  year  (Nov.-Dec.  714),  and  then 
moved  on  by  short  marches  to^wards  Damascus,  where  he  did 
not  arrive  till  two  months  and  a  half  later,  at  the  very 
moment  when  WaUd  had  just  breathed  his  last,  and  his 
brother  SolaimAn  had  been  saluted  as  Caliph.  The 
renowned  HajjAj  had  preceded  his  sovereign,  and  had 
expired  five  days  before  the  end  of  Ramadan,  a.e.  95. 
MisA  did  not  receive  the  reward  due  to  his  distinguished 
services.  Accused  of  peculation  by  the  new  CaUph,  ho 
was  beaten  ■with  rods,  and  condemned  to  a  fine  of  100,000 
pieces  of  gold ;  and  aU  his  goods  were  confiscated. 
SolaimAn  did  not  stop  here  :  he  caused  'Abd  al-'Aziz,  the 
son  of  MiisA,  to  be  put  to  death  in  Spain,  and  carried  his 
cruelty  so  far  as  to  show  his  severed  head  to  MiisA,  asking 
him  whether  he  recognised  it.  He  repUed  that  it  ■was  the 
head  of  a  man  a  thousand  times  superior  to  him  who  had 
ordered  his  death.  MiisA  died  soon  after.  As  for  Tirik, 
there  is  no  further  mention  of  him  after  the  beginning  of 
the  reign  of  SolaimAn,  and  we  must  therefore  suppose 
that  he  retired  into  private  life. 


'  Aecordisg  ii>  Fistera  cjronicle.",  Julisa'a  hati«d  of  Eoderic  uof 
fro'ji  the  Iftttf  r  (t  batiji^  dishonotu-wi  hir.  daTiyhVr. 


574 


MOHAMMEDANISM 


[oUAYTADr. 


BoiaimSu.  7.  Sokimiii  had  neatly  missed  the  throne.  Walid,  in 
the  very  year  of  his  death,  wished  to  have  hia  son  'Abd 
aX-'Aziz  b.  Walid  chosen  as  his  successor,  and  had  offered 
Solaimin  a  great  sum  of  money  to  induce  him  to  surrender 
his  rights  to  the  Caliphate;  but  Solaimin  obstinately 
refused  to  do  so.  Walid  went  still  further,  and.  sent 
letters  to  the  governors  of  all  the  provinces,  calling  on 
them  to  make  the  people  take  the  oath  of  allegiance  to 
his  sc4i.  None  except  Hajjij  and  Kotaiba  b.  Moslim 
consented  thus  to  set  at  nought  the  order  of  succession 
established  by  "Abd  al-Melik ;  and  Solaimiln  succeeded 
without  difficulty  at  the  death  of  his  brother.  We  can 
easily  conceive  the  hatred  felt  by  Solaimin  for  HajjAj, 
and  for  aU  that  belonged  to  him,  far  cr  near.  Hajj.lj 
himself  escaped  ■  by  death ;  but  Solaimin  poured  out  his 
wrath  on  his  family,  and  strove  to  undo  all  .that  he  had 
done.  First  of  all,  Mohammed  b.  Kfcim,  the  conqueror 
of  India,  who  was  coasin  to  HajjAj,  was  dismissed  from 
his  post  and  outlawed.  HajjAj  had  deprived  Yazfd  b. 
Mohallab  of  the  government  of  KliordsAn ;  Solaimin 
conferred  on  him  that  of  'IrAk.  Kotiiba  b.  Moslim,  on 
learning  the  accession  of  Solaim&n,  knew  that  his  own 
ruin  was  certain,  and  therefore  anticipated  tlie  Caliph  by 
a  revolt.  But  Solaimiln  induced  Kotaiba's  troops  to 
desert  by  authorising  them  to  return  to  their  homes;  and 
when  the  illustrious  general  sought  to  carry  his  army  with 
him,  a  conspiracy  was  formed  against  him  which  ended  in 
his  murder.  Yazld  b.  Mohallab,  who  preferred  KhorAsAn 
to  'IrAlf,  obtained  permission  to  exchange.  Immediately 
on  his  return  to  KhorisAn  he  r- et  on  foot  a  series  of  new 
expeditions  against  JorjAn  and  Tati^stAn,  But  the 
inhabitants  of  KhorAsin,  which  he  governed  oppressively, 
made  complaints  against  him  to  the  Caliph,  accusing  him 
of  practising  extortions  in  order  to  obtain  such  a  sum  of 
money  as  would  enable  him  to  rebel  against  his  sovereign. 
From  that  day  SolaimAn  determined  to  get  rid  of  Yazld. 
As,  however,  he  was  then  dreaming  of  the  conquest  of 
Constantinople,  he  thought  it  prudent  to  dissemble  his 
dissatisfaction  for  some  time. 

The  Byzantine  empire  was  disturbed  by  internal 
troubles  during  the  years  A.D.  715-717.  SolaimAn 
resolved  to  take  advantage  of  these  in  order  to  rid  himself 
for  ever  of  the  hereditary  enemy,  of  Islam,  and  prepared  a 
formidable  expedition.  A  fleet  of  eighteen  hundrfed 
vessels,  equipped  at  Alexandria,  sailed  to  the  coasts  of 
Asia  Minor,  took  on  board  the  Moslem  army,  commanded 
by  Maslama,  and  transported  it  to  Europe.  This  army 
appeared  under  the  walls  of  Constantinople,  15th  August 
717,  five  months  after  Leo  III.,  the  Isaurian,  had  ascended 
the  throne.  Once  more  the  Greek  fire  prevailed  against 
the  Moslems.  Tlieir  fleet  was  destroyed  by  this  terrible 
engine  of  war  ;  the  anny  could  obtain  no  fre-sh  supply  of 
provisions,  and  suffered  all  the  horrors  of  famine.  Mean- 
while the  Caliph,  who  desired  to  be  present  in  person  at 
the  taking  of  Constantinople,  had  set  out  to  join  the 
army.  He  fell  ill  at  DAbik,  not  far  from  Aleppo,  and  died 
there  on  the  22d  of  September  in  the  same  year,  after 
having  nominated  as  his  own  successor  his  cousin,  'Omar 
b.  "Abd  al-'Az(z,  and  as  successor  to  the  latter,  Yazfd  b. 
,'Abd  al-Melik,  his  own  brother.  In  vain  did  the  new 
Caliph  despatch  from  Egypt  a  fleet  of  four  hundred  ships 
to  carry  arms  and  provisions  to  the  army  before  Constanti- 
nople ;  thia  fleet  also  was  destroyed  by  the  Greeks,  and 
the  Moslem  army  was  decimated  by  famine,  and  soon  by 
the  plague  as  well.  A  hundred  tliou.sand  men  perished 
miserably  under  the  walls  of  Constantinople,  and  Maslama 
brought  back  to  Asia  Minor  a  mere  handful  of  soldiers, 
and  that  vath  great  difficulty. 
Cn.kr  II.  8.  'Omar  b.  'Abd  al-'Azlz,  incensed  at  this  disaster, 
took.  Vijs  revenge  on  the  Christians  of  his  own  states  by 


excluding  them  from  all  public  employments,  in  spite  o§ 
the  great  services  they  rendered  there, .  and  by  loading 
them  with  imposts  to  such  an  extent  that  one  public 
functionary  wrote  thus  to  the  Caliph  :  "  If  things  continue 
to  go  on  in  Egypt  as  at  present,  all  the  Christians  will 
become  Moslems  to  escape  taxation,  and  the  State  will 
lose  its  revenue."  To  this  the  pious  "Omar  replied  :  "  I 
should  look  on  the  conversion  of  all  the  Christians  as  a 
great  piece  of  good-fortune ;  for  God  sent  his  prophet  to 
act  the  part  of  an  apostle,  and  not  of  a  fax-gatherer."^  By 
his  religious  intolerance,  by  the  simplicity  of  his  life,  and 
by  his  vigour  in  observing  the  precepts  of  his  religion  and 
enforcing  their  observance,  'Omar  has  acquired  in  Moslea^ 
history  the  reputation  of  a  saint.  But  the  sanctity  of  a 
prince  does  not  ensure  the  greatness  of  a  State ;  and  the 
reign  of  'Omar,  as  we  shall  see,  was  injurious  rather  than 
advantageous  to  Islam.  He  alienated  the  provincial 
governors  by  his  severity ;  and  the  family  of  'AbbAs  took 
advantage  of  the  general  discontent  to  stir  up  the  people 
secretly,  and  thus  -to  prepare  the  way  for  the  fall  of  the 
dynasty. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  SolaimAn  died  before  caiTj- 
ing  out  his  purpose  of  deposing  Yazid  b.  Mohallab,  the 
governor  of  KhorAsAn.  'Omar  II.  took  it  on  himself  to 
fulfil  this  design.  He  summoned  Yazid  to  his  presence, 
and  on  his  arrival  at  Damascus,  threw  him  into  prison, 
and  demanded  the  restitution  of  the  money  which  he 
believed  him  to  have  misappropriated.  As  Yazld  alleged 
that  he  could  render  no  accoimt  of  it,  the  Caliph  banii.htd 
him  to  Dahlak,  a  small  island  in  the  Eed  Sea,  but  soci 
brought  him  back,  and  placed  him  in  close  ccnfinf.uient. 
It  was  not  till  a.h.  101,  when  'Omar  II.  was  d3'ing,  that 
Yazfd  succeeded  in  escaping  and  took  refuge  in  "IrAk. 
Mokhallad,  the  son  of  Yazld,  whom  his  father,  on  quit- 
ting KiorAsAn,  had  left  there  as  his  lieutenant,  was  also 
summoned  to  Damascus,  and  the  Caliph  at  first  appointed 
JarrAh  b.  'AbdallAh  governor  of  that  province,  but  soon 
after,  on  receiving  complaints  against  him,  replaced  hiin 
by  "Abd  al-EahmAn  al-Koshairl,  whom  he  desired  to  u.-^o 
every  effort  for  the  conversion  of  the  unbeliever.'-',  rather 
than  to  think  of  extending  the  jMoslem  power  by  force 
of  arms.  With  so  pacific  a  disposition,  it  is  easy  to 
understand  that  the  Caliph  did  not  signalize  his  reign  by 
any  conquest ;  except  a  revolt  of  the  KhArijites  in  "Iriti 
which  was  suppressed  by 'Maslama,  his  caliphate  was  not 
distinguished  by  any  warlike  event.  Its  most  noticeable 
occurrence,  as  we  have  said  above,  was  the  commencemcnl 
of  the  "AbbAsid  movement. 

The  "AbbAsid  family  derived  its  name  from  'AbbAs,  wh>  'Abliig^. 
was  Mohammed's  uncle  on  the  father's  side,  and  who,  """!>• 
during  the  Prophet's  life,  had  enjoyed  universal  coiisidert  ''"°" 
tion  among  the  Moslem.s.  It  was  he  who,  at  the  death  ci 
the  Prophet,  had  the  charge  of  washing  the  corpse.  The 
first  Caliphs,  Abiibekr,  "Omar,  "OthmAn,  and  "Ali,  showed 
the  utmost  deference  to  'AbbAs;  and  his  eldest  son 
"AbdallAh  had  been  united  in  the  closest  friendship  with 
Hosain,  the  unfortunate  son  of  "AH.  After  the  assassina- 
tion of  'Ali,  and  the  slaughter  of  Hos.iin,  "AbdallAh  had 
retired  to  Mecca,  and  there  brought  up  his  numerous 
family  in  hatred  of  the  Omaj-yads.  It  was  from  his 
youngest  son  "AH,  born  a.h.  40,  that  the  "Abb.Asid  dynasty 
spnmg.  Under  the  Caliph  "Abd  al-Mclik,  this  'All  was 
living  at  Damascus ;  but,  on  his  marrying  Labbaba,  the 
divorced  wife  of  'Abd  al-Melik,  the  Caliph  conceived  a 
great  aversion  for  'AH.  WaUd,  the  son  and  successor  of 
'Abd  al-Melik,  inherited  his  father's  prejudice.'!,  subjected 
'AH  to  every  kind  of  insult,  and  drove  liim  from  his  court. 
WaHd's  successor,  SolaimAn,  gave  him  leave  to  return  to 
Damascus,  but  "AH,  instead  of  availing  himself  of  this 
permission,  preferred  to  retire  to  Homaima,  a  town  situ. 


CltAYTASS.] 


M  O  H  A  .^t  M  E  D  A  N  I  S  M 


575 


ated  in  the  south  ot  Syria,  on  the  confines  of  Arabia.  It 
was  in  this  retireinent  that  his  son  Mohammed  conceived 
the  design  of  supplanting  the  Omajyad  dynasty.  We  have 
said  that  the  first  "Abbasids  were  closely  united  with  the 
family  of  'All  Mohammed  b.  'All,  the  'Abbisid,  saw 
clearly  that  it  was  only  among  the  followers  of  "All  that  he 
was  Ukely  to  be  able  to  form  a  party.  To  attain  this 
object,  he  formed  the  plan  of  making  it  believed  that  a 
descendant  of  the  Prophet's  son-in-law  had  transmitted  to 
him  his  rights  to  the  Caliphate.  It  will  be  remembejed 
that  Mohammed  b.  Hanaflya  had  come  forward  as  a  pre- 
tender to  the  throno  at  the  troublous  period  when  Ibn 
Zobair  and  'Abd  al-Melik  were  disputing  the  Caliphate. 
According  to  the  story  of  the  'Abbisids,  Abii  H4shim 
'Abdalliih,  the  son  ot  Ibn  Hanafiya,  had  gone  to  Homaima, 
to  the  house  of  Mohammed  b.  "AJi,  and  had  made  on  his 
deathbed  a  legal  transfer  of  his  rights  to  Mohammed,  by 
appointing  him  his  heir.  Whatever  may  be  the  truth 
respecting  this  transfer,^  Mohammed  tha  'Abbisid  spread 
abroad  the  report  of  it,  and  chose  especially  for  its  pro- 
pagation the  provinces  in  which  the  family  of  'AH  had 
the  greatest  number  of  adherents,  'Iralf  and  Khordsdn. 
Emissaries  sent  by  him  into  these  two  provinces,  under 
the  caliphate  of  'Omar  II.,  began  to  stir  up  the  people 
in  secret  agsinst  the  reiguing  house.  'Omar  was  probably 
acquainted  with  these  intrigues,  but  he  had  not  time  to 
repress  them,  for  ho  died  on  the  20th  or  25th  of  Bajab, 
A.H.  101  (5th  or  10th  February  720),  after  a  reign  of 
a1x)ut  two  years  and  a  half. 
Yaadn.  9.  Y&zid,  the  sou  of  'Abd  al-Melik,  ascended  the 
throne  without  resistance.  His  first  care  was  to  piirsue 
Yazld  b.  Mohallal),  who  had  escaped  from  his  prison  and 
taken  refuge  in  'Irdlf.  Besides  reasons  of  state,  Yazld  IL 
had  personal  reasons  for  ill-will  to  Yazid  b.  Mohallab, 
One  of  the  wives  of  the  new  Caliph,  the  same  who  gave 
birth  to  that  son  of  Yazld  11.  who  afterwards  reigned 
under  the  name  of  Walld  11.,  was  niece  to  the  celebrated 
Hajjij,  who,  as  it  will  be  remembered,  had  hated  and  per- 
secuted Yazld  b.  Mohallab.  Aware  of  the  alliance  of  the 
new  Caliph  with  the  family  of  Hajjij,  the  son  of  Mohallab 
had  made  every  effort  to  escape  as  soon  as  he  was  informed 
of  the  illness  of  'Omar  IL .;  for  he  well  knew  that  Yazld 
IL  would  spare  neither  him  nor  his  family.  In  fact,, the 
Caliph  sent  ezpress  orders  to  the  prefect  of  "IrAlf  to  arrest 
all  the  brothers  and  other  members  of  the  family  of 
Mohallab  who  were  to  be  found  ait  Basra ;  and  this  order 
was  immediately  carried  out.  But  Yazld  b.  Mohallab  had 
many  partisans  in  'Ir4k-  He  collected  a  small  army,  and 
fought  with  such  valour  that  in  a  short  time  he  succeeded 
in  making  himself  master  of  Basra,  where  he  had  himself 
proclaimed  Caliph.  The  public  treasury  fell  into  his 
hands,  and  he  employed  it  in  paying  his  troops  and  in 
raising  fresh  ones,  whom  he  sent  on  expeditions  into 
Khi\zistin  or  Ahwiz,  Firsistin,  Mokrin,  and  Sind.  As 
this  revolt  threatened  to  spread  far  and  wide,  Yazld  IL 
was  obliged  to  have  recourse  for  its  suppression  to  the 
celebrated  Maslama.  Early  in  a.h.  102,  this  illustrious 
general  took  the  field,  and  completely  defeated  Ibn 
Mohallab  near  Basra,  Y'azld  fell  in  the  battle,  and  his 
brothers  fled  beyond  the  Indus,  but  were  pursued  and 
slain  by  the  lieutenants  of  Maslama. 

This  revolt  suppressed,  Yazld  IL  was  able  to  give  his 
thoughts  to  the  extension  of  the  empire,  an  object  which 
had  been  so  much  neglected  by  his  predecessor.  Several 
expeditions  were  directed  against  Farghina  in  Transoxiana, 
against  the  Khazars  in  Armenia,  and  against  the  Greeks 
in  Asia  Minor,  but  without  any  very  decided  results.     In 


'  The  'Abbisid  Caliph  Ma'mun  certainly  did  not  believe  in  it,  for  be 
thought  it  bis  duty  to  restore  the  Caliphate  to  the  family  of  'All,  by 
apiwinting  as  hU  successor  'Mi  Ridi,  a  descendapt  of  the  Caliph  "Ali 


Africa,  serious  troubles  had  been  caused  by  tne  appoint-' 
ment  as  governor  of  a  certain  Yazld  b.  Abl  Moslim,  who 
had  been  secretary  to  Hajj&j,  and  who  followed  the 
example  of  his  master's  implacable  harshness.  The  Ber- 
bers rose  in  insurrection,  slaughtered  the  unfortunate 
governor,  and  chose  in  his  place  Mohammed  b.  Aus.  The 
CaUph  at  first  ratified  this  choice,  but  soon  after  dismissed 
Mohammed  from  his  post,  and  replaced  him  by  Bisbr  b. 
Safwin,  who  sent  out  an  expedition  against  Sicily. 

In  Europe,  the  Arabs  obtained  at  first  some  degree  of 
success.  Under  the  orders  of  Samah,  then  governor  of 
Spain,  they  crossed  the  Pyrenees,  and  took  possession  of 
Narbonne ;  but,  having  been  beaten  at  Toulouse,  they  had 
to  retrace  their  steps.  It  was  the  celebrated  Abderams 
('Abd  al-Rahm4n)  who  effected  their  retreat. 

Yazld  n.  died  three  years  later  of  a  lingering  illness, 
caused,  it  is  said,  by  his  grief  for  the  death  of  a  favourite 
slave-girL  At  his  accession,  Yazld  had  designated  as  his 
successors,  in  the  first  place  his  son  Hishim,  and  in  the 
second  his  son  Walld.  HishAm  ascended  the  throne 
without  opposition. 

10.  Hishim  was  a  pious  prince  and  an  enemy  of  Uisbuu. 
luxury ;  as  rigid  in  his  religion  as  'Omar  II.  To  this 
severity  may  in  part  be  attributed  the  disturbances  which 
broke  out  in  the  provinces  during  his  reign.  The 
governors  were  accustomed  to  remain  loyal  to  the  Caliphs 
only  when  the  latter  did  not  exact  from  them  too  rigorous 
an  account.  Hishim  was,  besides,  very  avaricious,  a 
fault  highly  calculated  to  make  him  odious  to  those  about 
him.  Lastly,  he  favoured  the  Yemenites,  and  this 
alienated  from  him  the  powerful  party  of  the  Kaisites. 
All  these  circumstances  emboldened  the  "Abbisids  to  carry 
on  actively  their  propaganda  in  'Irik  and  KhorAsAn,  and  it' 
succeeded  beyond  their  hopes.  The  Kaisite  tribes,  offended 
at  seeing  the  Caliph  bestow  the  best  posts  on  Yemenites, 
were  ready  to  espouse  with  enthusiasm  the  cause  of  any 
one  whose  aim  was  the  overthrow  of  the  Omayyads. 
Eebellion  had  been  smouldering  in  the  provinces  for 
thirteen  years ;  it  broke  out  at  last  at  Cufa  and  in  the 
whole  of  'IrAk,  under  chiefs  called  Moghlra  and  Bahliil ; 
and  when  these  insurgents  had  been  chastised,  others 
sprung  up  in  their  place,  'Amr  al-Yashkorl,  Al-'Anazf, 
and  Al-Sakhtayinl  The  prefect  of  'IrAk,  KhAlid  b. 
'AbdallAh,  was  accused  of  favouring  this  revolt,  was 
degraded,  and  replaced  by  Yilsuf  b.  'Omar,  who  threw 
him  into  prison,  where  he  remained  for  eighteen  months. 
This  measure  increased  the  discontent  of  the  people  of 
'Irak,  and  a  member  of  the  family  of  "All,  Zaid  b.  'All, 
collected  round  him  a  small  body  of  partisans,  and  had 
himself  proclaimed  CaUph,  a.h.  122  (a.d.  739-740). 
Unfortunately  for  Zaid,  he  had  to  do  with  the  same  Cufans  Zajc"  b> 
whose  fickleness  had  already  been  fatal  to  his  family.  In  *'■• 
the  moment  of  danger  he  was  deserted  by  his  troops, 
slain  in  an  tmequal  conflict,  and  his  head  sent  to  Damascus. 
In  KhordsAn  also  there  were  very  serious  disturbances. 
In  the  year  106  (a.d.  724-725)  there  had  already  been 
a  revolt  at  Balkh,  excited  by  the  emissaries  of  the 
"Abbisida.  The  following  years  brought  with  them  fresh 
troubles,  which  led  to  the  dismissal  of  the  governor  of 
EhorisAn,  Asad,  the  brother  of  KhAlid  b.  "AbdaUAh,  who 
had  been  prefect  of  "Irik-  Under  the  successors  of  Asad, 
who  were  successively  Ashras  b.  'AbdallAh,  Jonaid  b. 
'Abd  al-Rahmin,  and  '.i^im  b.  'AbdallAh,  seditions  broke 
out  in  Transoxiana,  which  were  repressed  with  great 
difficulty ;  and  it  was  not  until  the  year  1 20  that,  by  the 
appointment  of  the  brave  and  prudent  Nasr  b.  Sayy4r 
as  governor  of  KhorisAn,  peace  was  for  a  time  restored' 
to  -that  region.  The  'Abbisid  emissaries,  nevertheless,, 
secretly  continued  their  propaganda. 

In  India,  several  provinces  which  had  been  converted 


576 


MOHAMMEDANISM 


[OMAYYADS. 


to  Islam  under  the  Caliphate  of  "Omar  II.  declared  them- 
selves independent ;  and  this  led  to  the  founding  of 
several  strong  cities  for  the  purpose  of  controlling  those 
proviuces.  Itjwas  thus  that  the  cities  of  Mahfiiza  and 
Mansiira  had  their  origin. 

In  the  north  and  north-west  of  the  empire  there  were 
no  internal  disorders,  but  the  Moslems  had  much  to  do  to 
maintain  themselves  there  against  the  Alans,  the  Turko- 
mans, and  the  Khazars.  The  illustrious  Maslama  lost  his 
life  in  battle,  and  Merwin  b.  Mohammed,  afterwards 
Caliph,  took  his  place  as  prefect  of  Armenia  and  Azer- 
baijAn.  He  succeeded  in  imposing  peace  on  the  petty 
princes  of  the  Eastern  Caucasus,  and  in  consolidating  the 
Arab  power  in  that  quarter.  The  war  against  the  Byzan- 
tines lasted  during  the  whole  of  HishAm's,  reign.  In  Asia 
Minor,  the  Moslems  reoccupied  Ccesarea,  and  laid  siege  to 
Nicsa.  Arab  writers  even  declare  that  ConStantine,  after- 
wards Emperor  of  Constantinople,  was  made  prisoner  in 
the  year  lU  (a.d.  732-733),  but  the  Byzantine  authori- 
ties make  no  mention  of  this  fact.  On  the  other  hand, 
they  notice  an  important  defeat  of  the  Moslem  arms  in 
A.D.  739.  This  defeat,  which  is  acknowledged  by  the 
Arab  writers,  -cost  the  life  of  their  general,  'AbdallAh, 
sumamed  al-BatUl — "the  hero" — whose  prowess  still 
lives  in  the  memory  of  the  people  of  Asia  Minor. 

In  Africa,  several  successive  prefects  were  fully  occupied 
in  repressing  the  constant  insurrections  of  the  Berbers. 
In  Spain,  the  attention  of  the  Moslems  was  principally 
turned  to  avenging  their  defeats  beyond  the  Pyrenees. 
As  early  as  the  second  year  of  the  reign  of  Hishdm, 
'Anbasa,  governor  of  Spain,  crossed  the  Pyrenees,  and 
pushed  on  military  operations  vigorously.  Carcassonne 
and  Nimes  were  taken.  The  death  of  'Anbasa,  in  a.h. 
107  (a.d.  725-726),  put  a  stop  to  hostilities;  but  they 
recommenced  still  more  vigorously  six  years  later.  'Abd 
al-Rahmin  (Abderame),  the  same  who,  under  Yadd  11., 
had  led  back  to  Spain  the  remnants  of  the  Moslem  army, 
crossed  the  mountains  anew,  and  penetrated  into  Gascony 
by  the  passage  of  Roncevaux.  The  Moslems  beat  the 
Duke  Eudes,  gained  possession  of  Bordeaux,  and  overran 
the  whole  of  Southern  Gaul  as  far  as  the  Loire.  But  in 
A.H.  114  (a.d.  732)  Charles  Martel,  whose  aid  the  Duke 
of  Aquitaine  had  implored,  succeeded  in  inflicting  on  "Abd 
al-RalimAn  so  severe  a  defeat,  near  Poitiers,  that  the 
Moslems  were  obliged  to  effect  a  hasty  retreat,  and  to 
return  to  Spain.  Two  years  later  the  new  governor  of 
Spain,  "Olfba  b.  al-Hajj4j,  re-entered  Gaul,  and  pushed 
forward  expeditions  as  far  as  Burgundy  and  Dauphin^. 
Charles  Martel,  with  the  help  of  the  Lombards,  again 
drove  back  the  Arabs  as  far  as  Narbonne.  Thenceforth 
the  continual  revolts  of  the  Berbers  in  Africa  on  the  one 
side,  and  on  the  other  the  internal  troubles  which  disturbed 
Spain,  and  which  led  at  a  later  period  to  its  independence, 
offered  insurmountable  obstacles  to  the  ambition  of  the 
Moslems,  and  prevented  their  resuming  the  offensivei. 

Such  was  the  state  of  the  empire  when  Hishim  died 
on  the  6th  of  Rabf  11.  a.h.  125  (6th  Feb.  a.d. 
743),  after  a  reign  of  twenty  years.  He  had  not  been 
wanting  in  energy  and  ability.  Yet  under  his  reign  the 
'Moslem  power  declined  rather  than  advanced,  and  signs 
of  the  decay  of  the  Omayyad  dynasty  began  to  show 
themselves.  The  history  of  his  four  successors,  Walfd  II., 
Yazld  III.,  Ibrihim,  and  ilerwin  II.,  is  but  the  history  of 
the  fall  of  the  Omayyads. 

11.  Walid  II.,  the  son  of  Yazid  II.,  ascended  the  throne 
without  opposition  at  the  death  of  HishAm  ;  but  he  soon 
made  himself  so  much  hated  and  despised  by  his  debauch- 
cries  and  his  irreligion  that  eysn  the  sons  of  HishAm  and 
of  Walid  I.  plotted  with  the  enemies  of  the  Omayyads. 
Yazld,  one  of  the-  sons  of  Walid  I.,  went  so  far  as  to  take 


openly  the  title  of  Caliph,  and  to  march  against  Damascus, 
which  Walid  II.  had  quitted  for  fear  of  a  pestilence  which 
was  then  raging  there.  This  step  was  fatal  to  the  Caliph. 
The  inhabitants  of  Damascus  opened  their  gates  to  Yarld, 
who  took  possession  of  the  arsenals,  and  used  the  arms 
they  contained  to  equip  new  troops.  Walid  11,  on  his 
side,  collected  his  adherents  and  marched  against  his  rival. 
The  two  armies  met  at  a  place  called  BakhrA,  on  the 
confines  of  Syria  and  Arabia.  Yazid  had  no  difficulty  in 
overcoming  his  opponent,  who  was  abandoned  by  his  own 
soldiers.  Walid  IL  died  fighting,  having  reigned  little 
more  than  a  year,  and  his  head  was  taken  to  Damascus, 
and  carried  about  the  city  at  the  end  of  a  .spear.  (JomAdI 
n.,  A.H.  126,  March-April  744.) 

12.  The  death  of  Walid  EI.,  far  from  appeasing  theYaod 
troubles  of  the  State,  put  its  unity  in  greater  jeopardy  than  HI. 
ever.     The  distant  provinces  escaped  from  the  power  of 

the  new  Caliph.  In  Africa,  'Abd  al-RahmAn  b.  Hablb 
declared  himself  independent.  In  Spain,  every  emir 
aspired  to  free  himself  from  a  suzerainty  which  appeared 
to  him  only  nominal  In  KhorisAu  the  'AbbAsid  emissaries 
were  more  and  more  busy,  acting  in  the  name  of  IbrAhim 
b.  Mohammed,  who  had  become  the  head  of  the  family  by 
the  death  of  his  father,  Mohammed  b.  'All,  Even  in  Syria 
Yazld  m.  saw  his  authority  disputed.  Himself  belong- 
ing to  the  sect  of  Mo'tazilites,  who  rejected  the  doctrine 
of  predestination — a  sect  to  which  we  shall  have  occasion 
to  recur  in  treating  of  the  religious  history  of  Islam — 
he  aroused  all  the  orthodox  against  him.  Besides  this, 
many  of  the  Syrians,  from  a  sudden  change  of  feeling, 
now  desired  to  avenge  the  death  of  Walid  IL  The 
inhabitants  of  Emesa  revolted,  and  marched  against 
Damascus.  They  were  beaten  at  a  place  called  Thanlyat 
al-'OkAb,  or  The  Eagle's  Pass,  twelve  miles  from  the 
capital  Palestine  rose  in  its  turn,  and  chose  as  its  Caliph 
anothef  Yazid,  cousin  of  the  reigning  prince.  This  revolt 
also  was  suppressed.  But  a  greater  danger  menaced 
Yazld  III.  The  Omayyad  MerwAn  b.  Mohammed,  who 
was,  as  we  have  said,  governor  of  Armenia  and  of  Azer- 
baijAn,  also  prepared  to  dispute  the  supreme  power  with 
the  Caliph  of  Damascus,  and  invaded  Mesopotamia.  Yazld 
m,  in  his  alarm,  offered  him  the  government  of  this  last 
province  as  the  price  of  peace.  MerwAn  accepted  these 
conditions,  but  he  would  probably  not  have  left  his  rival 
long  at  rest,  had  not  the  latter  dfed  after  a  reign  of  only 
six  months. 

13.  Yazid  nX  left  his  brother  IbrAhim  as  his  successor.  Ibrihlii. 
At  the  news  of  Yazld's  death,  MerwAn  collected  a  power- 
ful army  and  entered  Syria.  Having  beaten  IbrAhim 's 
generals  one  after  the  other  and  taken  Emesa,  he  advanced 
rapidly  towards  Damascus.  SolaimAn  b.  HishAm  tried  to 
oppose  his  march,  but  he  was  defeated  at  "Ain  al-Jarr, 
between  Baalbec  and  Damascus,  and  the  Caliph  IbrAhim 

took  flight ;  while  SolaimAn,  the  son  of  HishAm,  laid  hands 
on  the  public  treasure,  and  then  fled  in  turn.  MerwAn 
entered  Damascus,  and  caused  himself  to  bo  proclaimed 
Caliph.  The  reign  of  IbrAhim  had  lasted  only  two  months. 
IbrAhim  himself  soon  acknowledged  the  new  Caliph,  and 
submitted  to  his  authority. 

14.  MerwAn  IL  was  a  man  of  energy,  and  might  have  Merwiii. 
revived  the  strength  of  his  dynasty,  if  the  ferment  in  the  ''■ 
east  of  the  empire  had  been  less  strong.     Unfortunately 

for  him,  the  "AbbAsid  movement  had  never  ceased  to  gain 
ground  in  KhorAsAn,  and  the  chief  adherent  of  the  family 
of  "AbbAs,  Abu  Moslim,  was  in  no  degree  inferior  to  the 
Caliph  in  energy  and  ability.  This  Abii  Moslim,  whose 
origin  is  obscure  and  disputed,  had  been  distinguished  by 
the  "AbbAsid  Mohammed  b.  'Ali,  the  same  who  alleged  that 
he  had  been  appointed  heir  to  the  claims  of  the  family  of 
"AH  to  the  supreme  power.     If  wo  may  believe  the  legend,' 


OKATTABS.] 


MOHAMMEDANISM 


577 


Mohanuned  had  even  foretold  that  die  accession  of  his 
family  wonld  take  place  t»  the  year  of  the  a«,'  through 
the  efforts  of  Abti  Moslim,  and  that  one  of  his  three  sons 
would  ascend  the  throne.  These  three  sons  were :  Ibra- 
him, "Abdallih,  called  Ab(i  'l-'Abb4s,  and  'AbdallAh,  called 
Abii  Ja'far.  Whatever  we  may  think  of  this  prediction, 
it  is  certain  that  under  Iferwin  EL  Abii  Moslim  was  the 
principal  emissary  of  the  'Abbisid  Ibrihlm,  and  had  been 
able  to  form  a  vast  conspiracy  in  KhorisAn,  which  broke 
out  in  A.H.  128,  at  the  very  moment  when  it  had  been  dis- 
covered by  Nasr  b.  SayyAr,  the  Omayyad  governor  of  the 
province.  Even  before  this,  Merwin  II.  had  had  to  repress 
disorders  which  had  broken  out  in  Syria,  Palestine,  and 
Triik ;  and  the  Caliph  could  new  rely  so  little  on  Syria 
that  he  had  thought  it  necessary  to  quit  Damascus,  and  to 
fix  his  abode  at  Harrin,  in  Mesopotamia.  On  learning 
the  revolt  of  Abii  Moslim,  Merwin  IL  wrote  to  Kasr  b. 
Sayyir,  directing  h'""  to  act  with  vigour  against  the 
fomenters  of  sedition.  It  was  easier  to  give  such  an  order 
than  to  execute  it,  for  Abii  Moslim  was  at  the  head  of  a 
numerous  army,  absolutely  devoted  to '  the  'Abbisids. 
Merwdn  IL  thought  it  necessary  at  the  same  time  to 
secure  the  perso»  of  the  'AbbSsid  pretender  Ibrdhim,  who 
was  still  living  at  Eomaima.  Ibrihim  was  therefore 
arrested,  conveyed  to  Harrin,  and  thrown  into  prison. 
He  found  means,  however,  of  communicating  with  his 
lieutenant  Abii  Moslim,  and  the  latter,  who  had  received 
the  most  extensive  powers  from  his  chief,  marched  direct 
upon  Merv,  the  capital  of  Khor4s4n,  and  drove  out  the 
governor  Nasr.  At  the  news  of  this  the  Caliph,  no  longer 
able  to  restrain  his  anger,  had  his  captive  Ibrahim  put 
to  death ;  an  execution  which,  at  a  later  period,  brought 
upon  the  Omayyads  the  most  terrible  reprisals.  The 
brother  of  IbrAhlm,  Abii  'l-'Abbis,  surnamed  SaffAh, 
"The  Sanguinary,"  on  account  of  his  cruelties,  having 
by  Ibrihim'a  death  become  chief  of  the  'Abbisids, 
immediately  quitted  Homaima  with  all  the  members  of 
his  family,  and  took  refuge  in  Ehorisdn,  that  his  pre- 
sence there  might  sanction  and  encourage  the  insurrection. 
Abii  Moslim,  now  master  of  Khor4s4n  by  the  capture  of 
Merv,  had  meanwhile  sent  an  army  against  'Irik,  under 
the  orders  of  Kahtaba  b.  Shabib,  who  had  beaten  the 
Omayyad  army,  commanded  by  Yazfd  b.  Hobaira, 
governor  of  that  province.  In  a.h.  132  Abii  'l-'AbbAs 
arrived  at  Merv.  After  remaining  there  some  time, 
wailing  for  a  favourable  moment,  he  decided  on  openly 
JU-SaffAli  as.suini:ig  the  title  of  Caliph.  He  installed  himself 
jBjnmM  ju  {jjQ  governor's  palace,  and  thence  went  in  state  to 
oiCsIipU. '^^  mosque,  where  he  mounted  the  pulpit,  and  officiated 

GZNEALOQICAL  TABLE  OF  THE   OUAVTADS. 

Omayj-a. 


in  the  capacity  of  successor  of  the  Prophet.  All  those 
present  took  the  oath  of  allegiance  to  him,  and  Abii 
VAbbis  returned  to  the  palace,  over  which  the  black 
flag  was  flying,  black  being  the  distinctive  colour  of  the 
"Abbisids.^  But  he  did  not  remain  long  at  Merv. 
Committing  the  government  of  that  city  to  his  uncla 
Diwiid,  he  went  to  review  his  army,  and  divided  it 
into  several  corps,  which  he  directed  against  different 
points.  After  this  he  went  to  Chaldjea,  and  there  estab- 
lished himself  in  a  spot  not  far  from  Cufa,  to  which  he 
gave  the  name  of  Hishimlya,  or  the  city  of  Hishim,  the 
ancestor  of  his  own  family  and  of  that  of  the  Prophet. 
Another  of  his  uncles,  'AbdallAh  b.  'All,  whom  he  had  sent 
on  an  expedition  against  the  city  of  Shahrozur,  took  pos- 
session of  that  place,  and  leaving  Abii  'Aun  'Abd  al-Melik  b. 
Yazld  there  as  governor,  rejoined  his  nephew  and  sovereign 
at  HAshimfya.  Meanwhile  the  Omayyad  Caliph  had 
marched  against  Shahroziir.  Abil  'Aun  went  out  to  meet 
him,  and  was  joined  by  a  strong  reinforcement  of  cavalry 
under  'Abdall4h  b.  'ALL  The  'Abbisids  only  numbered 
forty-five  thousand  soldiers,  but  these  were  experienced 
and  resolute  warriors.  The  Omayyad  army,  though  much 
more  numerous,  was  ill  commanded  and  devoid  of  spirit. 
A  battle  ensued,  and  fortune  fr.'oured  the  rebels.  In 
vain  did  MerwAn  show  himself  everywhere ;  his  soldiers 
gave  way  and  repassed  the  Zdb  in  disorder,  hurrying  away 
in  their  flight  the  unfortunate  Merwin.  (Jomidl  EI.  11,  A.B.  Trinn. 
132,  25th  January  750.)  This  victory  cost  the  Omayyads  f  '|"- 
their  empire.  MerwAn  attempted  at  first  to  take  refuge  ^^* 
at  Mosul ;  but  the  inhabitants  of  that  city  having  declared 
for  the  enemy,  the  prince  went  to  his  capital  Harr&n, 
whence  he  was  soon  driven  by  the  army  of  'Abdallah  b. 
'All.  From  Harrin  Merwin  fled  successively  to  Emesa, 
to  Damascus,  to  Palestine,  and  finally  to  Egypt.  He  was 
pursued  without  intermission  by  Silih,  brother  of  'Abd- 
allih  b.  'All,  who  at  last  came  up  with  him  at  Biislr, 
on  the  frontiers  of  the  Delta.  Merwan  took  refuge  in  a 
Coptic  church  ;  but  the  'Abbisids  pursued  him  into  the 
building,  and  slew  him  at  the  foot  of  the  altar.  His  head 
was  cut  off  and  sent  to  Cufa,  where  the  new  Caliph  then 
was. 

Thus  perished  in  the  East  the  dynasty  of  the  house  of 
Oxa&yysL,  which,  having  been  founded  by  usur])ation,  had 
only  maintained  itself  by  shedding  torrents  of  blood,  and 
was  destined  to  perish  in  blood.  We  now  enter  upon 
the  history  of  the  new  dynasty,  whose  origin  we  have 
described,  and  tinder  which  the  jKiwer  and  glory  of  L-lam 
reached  their  highest  point. 

Here  we  give  the 


Abii  'l-'is. 

I 

Hakam. 

4..  Mebwan  I. 
I 


Mohajnmed. 
14.  Mehwan  n. 


S.  'Abd  al-Melie. 


•Abd  al-'Aziz. 

I 
8.  'OtUB  IL 


I 
Harb. 

Abii  Sofyia._ 

1.  Mo'awiya  L 

I 
2.  Yazid  L 

3.  Mo'^wiTA  IL 


12.  Yazid  IIL        13.  IbbXrIu. 


9.  YazId  II. 
11.  Wali'd  II. 


'  To  landerstand  this  allnsion  wo  must  know  that  Merwdn  II.  had 
T«cAlved  the  Dickname  of  Bi:n&r,  "the  ass,"  on  accout  ortlia  tempor- 
Mnm  and  the  strength  of  his  constitution. 

^  Historians  are  divided  as  to  the  date  at  which  black  became  the 


Abbisid  colour. '  According  to  some,  the  first  'Abbisids  wore  a  tob«  |  'tida.    Paris,  1837, 


of  black  silk  as  early  as  at  the  battle  cilled  that  of  the  Camel. 
According  to  others,  it  was  only  after  the  murder  of  Ibiihini  by  Mer- 
win  that  tho  'Abbisids  adopted  black  as  a  sign  of 'mourning.  Se« 
Quatremere,  iftmoirea  hisioriquca  sur  la  dynastic  da  khali/ta  Abbas- 


XVL 


-73 


378 


MOHAMMEDANISM 


['AEBiaOS. 


Sect.  II. — The  'AbbXsids. 


AW  1-  From   Uie  death  of  Menvin  may  be  reclfoned  the 

VAlibfsreal  accession  of  the  'AbbAsid  dynasty  to  the  Calijfhate, 
•l-S.ilTuL  yvlih.'U  thus  returned  to  tlie  hands  of  the  grand-nejihews 
of  the  Prophet.  Abii  'l-"AbbAs,  whose  proper  name  was 
'Abdalhlh,  and  who  afterwards  received  the  surname  of 
KafTcih,  was,  as  has  been  said  above,  a  man  of  energetic 
will,  who  hc?itatcd  at  nothing  to  ensure  the  triumjih  of 
his  dynasty.  When  he  caused  himself  to  bo  proclaimed 
Caliph  at  Cufa,  one  of  his  partisans,  Abil  Salama,  who  had 
till  then  believed  that  Abii  'l-'AbbAs  was  working  to  restore 
the  posterity  of  "Ali  to  tljo  throne,  and  not  to  gain  posses- 
sion of  the  empire  for  himself,  hesitated  to  take  the  oath 
of  obedience  to  the  new  Caliph.  Abii  'l-'Abbds  immedi- 
ately resolved  on  his. destruction,  but  fearing  that  Abu 
Salama  might  have  a  secret  understanding  witli  the  con- 
queror of  KhorAsdn,  he  began  by  sending  his  own  brother 
Abu  Ja'far  into  that  province  to  sound  Abil  Moslira.  The 
latter  loudly  disclaimed  any  alliance  with  Abii  Salama, 
and,  that  no  suspicion  might  rest  upon  him,  he  sent  a 
confidential  agent  to  Cufa,  and  had  Abii  Salama  assas- 
sinated. Still  further  to  prove  his  zeal  for  the  house  of 
'Abb.ls,  Abu  Moslim  also  got  rid  of  SolainiAn  b.  Kathir, 
another  ".^bbtisid  emissary,  whom  he  suspected  of  partiality 
towards  the  family  of  'All.  On  his  side,  Abil  l-'Abb.is 
caused  '^\bdallah  b.  JIoMwiya,  an  adherent  of  'All's  family, 
to  be  treueherously  slaiu,  though  he  had  distinguished 
himself  iu  the  wars  against  Slerwdn.  As  for  the  Omayyads, 
they  were  systematically  followed  up  and  put  to  death. 
The  new  Caliph  desired  to  exterminate  that  family,  not 
only  for  the  sajte  of  revenge,  but  also  that  he  might  deprive 
the  Syrians  of  any  prete.xt  for  fresh  insurrections.  In 
fact,  hardly  had  Abii  'l-'Abb,is  been  proclaimed  Caliph  at 
C"fe)  when  the  Omayyad  governor  of  Kirmesrin,  Abil 
'i-i?iird  b.  Kauthar,  notwithstanding  that  he  had  taken 
the  oath  to  the  new  sovereign,  gave  the  signal  for  revolt 
in  the  name  of  the  Omayyads.  Abii  '1-' Abbas  immediately 
ordered  his  uncle  'Abdallah  b.  'Ali,  who  had  been  made 
governor  of  Palestine,  to  act  with  the  utmost  rigour 
against  all  members  of  the  Omayyad  family  on  whom  he 
could  lay  hid  hands.  That  he  might  let  none  of  them 
escape,  'AbdalUh  pretended  to  grant  an  amnesty  to 
all  Omayyads  who  should  come  in  and  acknowledge  the 
new  Caliph,  and  even  promised  them  the  restitution  of 
all  their  property.  Ninety  members  of  that  unfortunate 
family  allowed  themselves  to  be  entrapped  by  these 
Epecious  pron^ises,  and  'AbdallAh,  on  pretence  of  sealing 
the  reconeiliation  of  the  two  parties,  invited  them  to 
a  banquet.  But  when  they  were  all  collected,  a  body 
of  executioners  rushed  into  the  hall,  and  slew  the 
Omayj-ads  with  blows  from  whips  and  rods.  A  grandson 
of  HishAm,  "Abd  al-Rah.mAn  b.  Mo'iwiya,  who  had  taken 
refuge  in  Africa,  alone  escaped  this  massacre.  It  was  he 
who,  at  a  later  date,  founded  in  Spain  the  Omaj-j'ad 
dynasty  of  Cordova.  The  cruelty  of  the  "AbbAsids  excited 
Ik  feeling  of  horror  in  the  whole  of  Syria,  and  the  revolt 
.soon  became  general.  Abii  '1-Ward  b.  Kauthar  found 
liimself  at  the  head  of  forty  thousand  men,  and  pitched 
his  camp  at  Marj  al-Akhram,  a  plain  near  Kinnesrin. 
'J'ho  revolt  spread  even  to  Mesoijotaniia  and  'Ir.Al;.  One 
of  JlerwAn's  former  generals,  IsliAlf  b.  Moslim,  laid  siege 
to  llarrin,  while  Yazid  b.  Ilobaira,  formerly  governor  of 
'IrAlj,  raised  an  insurrection  at  WAsit.  In  KhorAsAn  also, 
as  many  as  thirty  thousand  malcontents  took  up  arms 
against  Abil  Moslim.  Notwithstanumg  this  formidable 
display  of  force,  the  'AbbAsids  remained  conquerors.  In 
Syria,  'AbdallAh  b.  'All  beat  Abii  'l-Ward  at  Marj  al- 
Akhram.  Abii  Ja'far,  brother  of  the  CaliiJi,  compelled 
laliAk  b.  Moslim  and  Yazid  b.  Ilobaira  in  Euccession  to 


submit.  Lastly,  Abii  Moslim  quieted  the  riaing  La 
KhorAiAn.  Mosul  a!so  attempted  an  insurrection,  but 
YahyA,  a  brother  of  the  Caliph,  quenched  the  revolt  ia 
streams  of  blood.  All  the  jirovinces  being  thus  reduced 
to  peace,  the  new  Caliph  distributed  them  among  the 
principal  members  of  his  family  and  his  best  generals. 
To  his  brother  Abii  Ja'far  he  gave  a  jiart  of  Mesoix)tamia, 
jViicrbaijAn,  and  Armenia ;  to  his  uncle  "AbdallAh  b.  'Ali, 
Syria  ;  to  his  uncle  DA-\nid,  Arabia,  KijAz,  YamAma, 
and  Yemen ;  to  his  cousin  'IsA  b.  Miisi,  the  province  of 
Cufa.  Abii  iloslim  continued  in  posses.sion  of  the  govern- 
ment of  KhorAsAn,  Transoxiana,  and  a  part  of  FAr-iistAn, 
Eg)pt  was  entrusted  to  Abii  'Aun.  Another  uncle  of  the 
Caliph,  SolaimAn  b.  "AH,  received  the  government  of 
Ba.sra,  with  Bahrain  and  'Oman.  I.astly,  the  province  of 
"  Mosul  was  taken  from  the  cnrel  Yahya,  and  granted  to 
one  of  the  rmcles  of  Abii  'l-'AbbAs,  IsmA'll  b.  'ALf,  who 
received  besides  .the  government  of  AhwAz.  In  Sind,  the 
Omayyad  governor  had  succeeded  in  maintaining  himself, 
but  was  defeated  by  an  army  sent  again.st  hiiii  under 
MiisA  b.  Ka'b,  and  the  black  standard  of  the  'AbbAsids 
was  raised  over  the  city  of  Man.silra.  If  wo  omit  Africa 
and  Spain  in  describing  this  division  of  the  provinces  of 
the  empire,  it  is  because  the  'AbbAsids  never  gained  any 
real  footing  in  Sjjain,  while  Africa  remained  in  only 
nominal  subjection  to  the  new  dynasty. 

Abil  'l-'Abbas,  after  having  definitively  established  his 
power,  left  the  iovra  of  HAshimiya  and  fixed  his  residence 
at  AnbAr,  where  he  died  on  the  13th  of  Dhii  '1-Hijja,  A.H, 
136  (9th  June  754). 

_  2.  Abii  'l-"Abb.As  had  designated  as  his  successors,  first  Atii  J» 
Abii  Ja'far,  and  after  him  bus  cousin  'IsA  b.  Miisi.  At  "f"  »\- 
the  moment  of  the  death  of  Abii  'l-'Abb;ts,  Abii  Ja'far,  ^'^S"'- 
who  then  assumed  tlie  title  of  Al-Mansiir,  "the  Victo- 
riou.s,"  was  not  in  'Irak.  He  had  undertaken  the  leader- 
ship of  the  jjilgrims  who  had  started  on  the  journey  to 
Jlecca,  and  among  whom  figured  the  celebrated  Abii 
Moslim.  'AbdallAh  b.  'Ali,  uncle  of  Abil  'l-'AbbA-s,  dis- 
satisfied at  having  been  excluded  from  the  succession, 
took  advantage  of  this  absence  to  revolt.  Having  raised 
an  army  and  proclaimed  himself  Cahph,  he  marched 
against  HarrAn  and  laid  siege  to  it.  On  receiving  thii 
news,  Abii  Ja'far  hastened  to  return  to  AnbAr  in  company 
with  Abii  Moslim,  whom  he  placed  at  the  head  of  h'-i 
troops,  and  sent  against  the  rebel  At  the  approach 
of  Abii  Jloslini,  'AbdallAh,  who  had  among  his  troojis  a 
body  of  seventeen  thousand  men  of  KhorAsAn,  fearing 
that  they  might  declare  for  Abii  Moslira,  had  them  all 
slaughtered,  as  the  historians  assert,  by  his  Syrians,  and 
then  hastened  to  meet  his  enemy.  The  two  armies  met 
at  Nisibis,  and,  after  a  number  of  skirmishes,  a  decisive 
engagement  took  place  on  the  7th  of  JomAdi  II.,  a.h.  137 
(28th  November  754).  'AbdallAh  was  defeated  and  com- 
pelled to  submit  to  Al-Man.silr,  who  spared  his  life.  Tlie 
new  and  brilliant  service  thus  rendered  by  Abil  Jloslim  to 
his  sovereign  ought  to  have  placed  him  even  higher  in  the 
favour  of  Mansiir  than  he  already  stood.  On  the  contrary, 
it  was  the  cause  of  his  ruin.  The  Caliph  wished  to  com- 
mit the  task  of  maintaining  order  in  Syria  to  Ab«  Moslim ; 
but  the  latter  refused  to  give  up  his  government  of 
KhorAsAn,  where  he  enjoyed  an  extraordinary  reputation, 
and  possessed  numerous  adherents,  and,  instead  of  obeying 
the  order  of  the  Caliph,  directed  his  march  towards  the 
East.  Thenceforth  Mansiir  loi.l.cJ  on  him  only  as  a 
dangerous  rebel,  and  sought  f.T  means  of  getting  rid  of 
him.  On  pretence  of  conferring  with  'I'l,!  on  business  of 
state,  he  induced  him  to  come  to  Mail,  in  (the  ancient 
Ctesiphon),  caused  him  to  be  jiut  to  death  bv  his  i^ni.irds, 
ard  ordered  his  body  to  be  tl.nnvn  into  the  'i  !.;ris.  Thus 
miserably   perished   the    real    '..under  of    ti;c   'AbbAsiJ 


-ABBisnNS.] 


MOHAMMEDANISM 


679 


dynasty,  after  having  accomplished  his  work,  which,  as 
the  historians  assert,  cost  the  lives  of  more  than  600,000 
men.  Notwithstanding  the  defeat  of  'Abdallih  b.  'AH 
and  the  murder  of  Abii  Moslim,  the  spirit  of  rebellion  was 
not  yet  broken.  Eisings  took  place  in  Mesopotamia  and 
to  a  still  greater  extent  in  Khorisin ;  and  the  Caliph's 
troops  were  repeatedly  beaten  by  the  rebels ;  but  order 
was  at  last  re-established  by  Mansiir's  generals,  by  Khdzim 
b.  Khozaima  in  Mesopotamia,  and  by  Mohammed  b.  al- 
Ash'ath  in  Khorisdn. 

About  the  same  time  Africa  and  Spain  escaped  from 
the  dominion  of  the  Eastern  Calii)hate ;  the  former  for  a 
season,  the  latter  permanently.  The  cause  of  the  revolt 
of  Africa  was  as  follows :  As  soon  as  Mansur  ascended  the 
throne,  he  wrote  to  'Abd  al-Rahmin,  announcing  the 
death  of  Abii  'l-"Abb4s,  and  requiring  him  to  take  the 
oath  of  allegiance.  'Abd  al-Rahm4n  sent  in  his  adhesion 
to  the  new  Caliph,  and  added  a  few  presents  of  little  value. 
The  Caliph  was  so  much  dissatisfied  that  he  replied  by  a 
threatening  letter  which  excited  the  anger  of  'Abd  al- 
Ralimdn.  Ho  called  the  people  together  at  the  hour  of 
prayer,  mounted  the  pulpit,  publicly  cursed  Mansiir,  and 
then  declared  his  deposition  from  the  CaKphate.  He  next 
caused  a  circular  letter  to  be  -WTitten,  commanding  all 
Maghrebins  to  refuse  obedience  to  the  Caliph ;  and  this 
letter  was  circulated  and  read  from  the  pulpit  throughout 
the  whole  extent  of  the  Maghrib  (the  West).  A  brother  of 
'Abd  al-Rahm4n,  llyds,  saw  in  this  revolt  an  opportunity  of 
obtaining  the  government  of  Africa  for  himself.  Seconded 
by  many  of  the  inhabitants  of  Kairawin,  who  had 
remained  faithful  to  the  cause  of  the  'Abb4sids,  he  attacked 
his  brother,  slew  him,  and  proclaimed  himself  govenior  in 
his  stead.  This  revolution  in  favour  of  the  'AbbAsids  was, 
however,  of  no  long  duration.  Habib,  the  eldest  son  of 
'Abd  al-Rahmdn,  had  fled  on  the  night  of  his  father's 
murder,  and  Ilyds  caused  him  to  be  pursued,  with  the 
object  of  transporting  him  to  Andalusia.  Habib  was 
captured,  but  the  vessel  which  was  to  convey  him  to  Spain 
having  been  detained  in  port  by  stress  of  weather,  the 
partisans  of  independence  took  arms,  rescued  Habfb,  and 
prepared  to  resist  Ilyis,  who  was  marching  against  (hem 
at  the  head  of  an  army.  Under  these  circximstances  a 
fortunate  idea  occurred  to  Habfb.  He  challenged  his 
uncle  Ilyis  to  single  combat.  Ilyis  hesitated,  but  his 
own  soldiers  compelled  him  to  accept  the  challenge.  He 
measured  arms  with  Habib,  and  was  laid  prostrate  by 
him  with  a  thrust  of  his  lance.  The  party  of  independ- 
ence thus  triumphed,  and  several  years  elapsed  before  the 
The  Agh- 'Abbisid  general,  Al-Aghlab,  was  able  to  enter  KairawAn, 
labites  in  and  regain  possession  of  Africa  in  the  name  of  the  Eastern 
^^'^*-  Caliph.  From  this  time  forward,  it  must  bo  added,  Africa 
only  nominally  belonged  to  the  'Abbdsids ;  for,  under  the 
Caliphate  of  Hdriin  al-Rashfd,  Ibrdhim,  the  son  of  Al- 
Aghlab,  who  was  invested  with  the  government  of  Africa, 
founded  in  that  province  a  distinct  dynasty,  that  of  the 
Aghlabites. 
Spaiji.<.h  Coincidently  with  the  revolt  in  Africa,  the  inacpendent 
Caliph-  Caliphate  of  the  Western  Omayyads  was  founded  in  Spain. 
*'*''  The  long  dissensions  which  had  preceded  the  fall  of  that 
dynasty  in  the  East,  had  already  prepared  the  way  for  the 
independence  of  a  province  so  distant  from  the  centre 
of  the  empire.  Every  petty  emir  there  tried  to  seize 
sovereign  power  for  himself,  and  the  people  groaned  under 
the  consequent  anarchy.  ■  Weary  of  these  commotions,  the 
Arabs  of  Spain  at  last  came  to  an  understanding  among 
themselves  for  the  election  of  a  Caliph,  and  their  choice  fell 
nppn  the  last  survivor  of  the  Omayyads,  'Abd  al-Rahmdn 
b.  Mo'dwiya,  •  grandson  of  the  Caliph  Hishdm.  This 
prince  was  wandering  in  the  deserts  of  Africa,  pursued 
by  his'  implacable  enemies,  but  eserjofihere  protected  and. 


concealed  by  the  desert  tribes,  who  pitied  his  misfortunes 
and  respected  his  illustrious  origin.  A  deputation  from 
Andalusia  sought  hiih'out  in  Africa,  and  offered  him  the 
Caliphate  of  Spain,  which  he  accepted  with  Joy.  On  25tb 
September,  A.D.  755,  "Abd  al-Bahmdn  landed  in  the  Iberian 
Peninsula,  where  he  was  universally  welcomed,  and 
speedily  founded  at  Cordova  the  Western  Omayyad  Caliph- 
ate, with  which  this  history  has  no  further  concern. 

While  Manstir  was  thus  losing  ^rica  and  Spain,  he  was 
trying  to  take  from  the  Greeks  the  city  of  Malatiya, 
which,  from  the  importance  of  its  situation,  was  looked 
on  as  the  key  of  Asia  Minor.  In  A.n.  139-140  (a.d.  V56- 
757),  a  Moslem  army  of  70,000  men  invested  the  place, 
and,  after  a  vigorous  siege,  Malatiya  was  taken  by 
assault.  After  this  success  the  Moslems  marched  through 
Cilicia,  entered  Patiphylia,  and  cut  to  pieces  a  Greek 
am\y  on  the  banks  of  the  Melas.  The  Greeks  asked  and 
obtained  a  seven  years'  truce,  which  Manstir  was  the  more 
disposed  to  grant  because  new  and  very  serious  troubles 
had  been  stirred  up  in  his  empire  by  certain  sectaries 
of  KhordsAn,  called  Rdwandfs.  These  Edwandis,  like 
many  other  Persian  sectaries,  admitted  a  number  of 
dogmas  completely  foreign  to  Islam,  such  as  the  trans- 
migration of  souls  and  the  incarnation  of  the  Deity  as  a 
man.  They  believed,  for  instance,  as  historians  assure 
us,  that  divine  honours  ought  to  be  paid  to  the  Caliph 
JIansur.  They  had  their  name  from  Rdwand,  a  city 
near  Isfahdn,  where  the  sect  originated.  A  great  number 
of  these  sectaries  had  repaired  to  Hdshimfya,  the  residence 
of  the  Caliph,  and  there  persisted  in  marching  in  pro- 
cession round  his  palace,  as  if  it  had  been  the  Ka'ba. 
Mansiir,  refusing  to  receive  this  impious  homage,  caused 
the  principal  chiefs  of  the  sect  to  be  seized  and  throwa 
into  prison.  The  Edwandis  immediately  rose  in  revolt, 
broke  open  the  prson  doors,  rescued  their  chiefs,  and 
pushed  their  audai;ity  so  far  as  to  besiege  the  Caliph 
in  his  own  palace.  Very  fortunately  for  Mansiir,  tlie 
populace  declared  against  the  Rdwandfs  and  massacred 
them  ;  but  from  that  time  forward  he  took  a  dislike  to 
tho  city  of  Hdshimfya,  and  resolved  to  choose  another 
residence.  He  had  at  first  thought  of  fixing  his  place  of 
abode  at  Cufa ;  but  he  remembciycd  the  fickle  character  of 
the  inhabitants,  and  decided  on  founding  an  entirely  new 
city  on  the  banks  of  the  Tigris.  His  choice  fell  upon 
a  spot  near  tho  ancient  Ctesiphon,  the  capital  of  the  I'ouiia:.- 
Sassanids,  called  Baghddd.  There  he  himself  laid  thet'""."' 
first  stone  of  the  city  which  was  to  be  the  centre  of  thu  ^S" 
civilised  world  as  long  as  the  Caliphate  lasted.  A  revolt, 
however,  of  some  importance  soon  called  Mansiir's  atten- 
tion from  the  building  of  Baghddd.  The  descendants  of 
"All,  who  had  had  reason  to  think  that  the  "Abbdsids 
were  laboiu-ing  for  their  advancement,  were  now  cruelly  un- 
deceived. In  A.H.  145  (A.D.  762-763),  Mohammed  Mahdi, 
great-grandson  of  Hosain,  and  surnamed  Al-Nafs  al-Zakiya 
("  the  pure  soul "),  collected  a  large  number  of  adherents 
at  Medina,  and  had  himself  proclaimed  Caliph.  The 
governor- of  Cufa,  'tsd  b.  Miisd,  received  orders  to  march 
against  him,  and  entered  Arabia.  The  partisans  of  'All 
were  defeated,  and  Mohammed  Mahdi  fell  in  battle.  But 
meanv/hile  his  brother  Ibrdhfm  had  gone  to  Basra,  and 
had  there  succeeded  in  exciting  a  revolt,  in  presence  of 
which  the  'Abbdsid  governor  had  been  obliged  to  capitu- 

.  late.  The  adherents  of  'AU,  emboldened  by  this  success, 
spread  themselves  over  "Irdlf,  and  obtained  possession  of 
several  places,  among  which  was  the  city  of  Wdsit. 
Ibrdhim  was  already  advancing  towards  Cufa,  at  the 
head  of  a  strong  army,  when  "tsd  b.  Miisd,  who  had  been 
hastily  recalled  from  Arabia,  threw  himself  in  his  way. 
A   terrible   conflict   took   place.  ,,  At   last   Ibrdhfm  fell, 

4)icrced.-by  an  arrow,  andt  in  spite  pi  the  desperate. efforli 


580 


MOHAMMEDANISM 


['ABBASIDa. 


of  Ilia  followeis,  hia  body  remained  in  tho  hands  ot  the 
Enemy.  The  partisans  of  'AH  then  dispersed,  and  never 
eigain  ventured  to  have  recourse  to  arms. 

The  Caliph  was  highly  delighted  when  he  heard  of  the 
decisive  victory  gained  by  'Is4,  bat,  far  from  rewarding 
his  valiant  cousin,  he  tried  to  compel  him  to  renounce  his 
right  of  succession  to  the  Caliphate,  with  the  view  of 
EuV«tituting  as  heir-presumptive  his  own  son  Mohammed. 
IsA  at  first  energetically  refused  to  abandon  his  rights  - 
but  Mansiir  did  not  hesitate  at  a  shameless  deception,  and 
produced  false  witnesses,  who  swore  that  'IsA  had  waived 
hia  claim  in  favour  of  Mohammed  b.  Manstir.  However 
unwillingly,  'IsA  was  obliged  to  yield  his  priority  to 
iMohammed,  but  it  was  understood  that,  in  case  of  the 
death  of  the  latter,  the  succession  should  return  to  'Isi, 
One  of  the  false  witnesses  was,  it  is  asserted,  Khilid  b. 
Barmak,  the  lieAd  of  that  celebrated  Persian  family  the 
Barmecides,  which  played  so  important  a  part  in  the  reign 
of  Hardn  al-Rashld.  To  this  IChilid,  Manstir  had 
entrusted  the  elevated  post  of  minister  of  finance. 

In  A.H.  158  (A.D.  774-775),  Mansilr,  feeling  the  decline 
of  his  powers,  resolved  to  undertake  for  the  last  time  the 
pilgrimage  to  Mecca.  At  the  last  station  on  the  route  he 
had  a  fall  from  his  horse,  and  died  at  the  gate  of  the  Holy 
City.  He  was  nearly  seventy  years  of  age,  and  had 
leigncd  for  twenty-two  years.     He  was  buried  at  Mecca. 

3.  Mohammed  b.  Mansilr  was  at  Baghdid  when  ho 
received  the  news  of  his  father's  death,  and  hastenea  to 
have  himself  proclaimed  Cahph.  He  then  took  the  title 
t>{  Mahdl  ("  the  well-directed  ").  To  make  his  accession 
Tvelcome  to  his  subjects,  he  began  by  granting  an  amnesty 
to  a  great  number  of  persons  who  had  incurred  the  anger 
of  Mansiir,  and  had  been  thrown  into  prison.  Among 
these  was  a  certain  Diwiid  b.  Yalfiib,  whom  Mahdf  after- 
wards made  his  prime  miuistei'.  But,  on  the  other  hand, 
Mahdl  did  not  choose  to  confirm  in  their  posts  the  pro- 
vincial governors  in  whom  his  father  had  placed  confidence  ; 
he  supplied  their  places  by  creatures  of  his  own.  These 
ijhanges  displeased  the  people  of  Khorisin,  who  revolted 
under  the  leadership  of  a  certain  Yilsuf  b.  Ibrihlm,  sut- 
nanied  Al-Barm.  Mahdl  Sent  against  him  hia  general 
Ynzld  b.  Mazyad,  who,  after  a  desperate  struggle,  defeated 
Tiisuf,  took  him  prisoner,  and  brought  him  in  triumph  to 
Bagtidid,  where  he  was  put  to  the  torture  and  crucified. 
Mahdl  had  been  scarcely  a  year  on  the  throne,  when  he 
jrcaolved  to  accomplish  the  pilgrimage  to  Mecca,  and  at  the 
£a;ne  time  to  visit  the  tomb  of  his  father.  Leaving  his 
eldest  son  Musi  as  governor  of  Baghdid,  he  set  off, 
accompanied  by  his  second  son  Hiriin  and  a  numerous 
suite.  The  chroniclers  relate  that  the  Caliph  had  ordered 
.*  great  number  of  camels  to  beladen  with  snow,  and  that 
he  reached  Mecca  without  having  exhausted  this  store. 
(Immediately  on  his  arrival  in  the  Holy  City,  he  applied 
'liimself,  at  the  request  of  the  inhabitants,  to  the  renewal 
of  the  veils  which  covered  the  exterior  walls  of  the  Ka'ba. 
Pur  a  very  long  time  these  veils  had  been  placed  one  over 
another,  no  care  having  been  taken  to  remove  the  old 
covering  when  a  new  one  was  put  on  ;  bo  that  the'accumu- 
lated  weight  caused  uneasiness  respecting  the  stability  of 
the  walls.  Mahdi  caused  the  temple  to  be  entirely  stripped, 
and  covered  the  walls  again  with  a  single  veil  of  great 
richness.  On  this  occasion  Cp  distributed  considerable 
largesses  among  the  Meicans.  From  Mecca,  Alahdl  wont 
to  .Medina,  vvnere  he  caused  iho  mosque  la  be  enlarged. 
0  luring  his  stay  in  that  city  Se  formed  himself  a  guard 
of  honour,  composed  of  five  hundred  descendants  of  the 
Ana.ir,'  to  wnom  he  assigned  lands  in  Irik  to  be  held  in 


^  The  first  citlzenj  of  Medina  irho  embraced  U\uti  were  callod  Anit&r ; 
tee  above,  p.  664. 


fief.  Struck  by  the  difficulties  of  every  kind  which  had 
to  be  encountered  by  poor  pilgrims  who  desired  to  repair 
to  Mecca  from  Baghdid  and  its  neighbourhood,  ho  resolved 
to  come  to  their  help.  His  first  care  was  to  have  the  road 
from  Baghdad  to  Mecca  laid  out,  and  its  divisions  marked 
by  milestones.  He  next  ordered  the  construction  at  every 
stage  of  a  kind  of  inn,  where  the  poorer  travellers  might 
find  shelter  and  food.  He  also  saw  to  having  new  wella 
dug  and  cisterns  built  along  the  whole  route 

Whilst  he  was  devoting  himself  to  these  pions'iaooura^ 
he  was  menaced  by  a  dangerous  revolt  in  KhorAsin.  Ita 
leader  was  a  sectary  called  Hakim,  surnamed  Al-Mo^anna; 
or  the  Veiled  One,  because  he  never  appeared  in  public 
without  having  his  face  eovered  with  a  mask.  Al- 
Mokanna'  hoped  to  gather  a  great  number  of  adherents 
around  him,  and  to  govern  the  province  as  absolutely  as 
Abii  Moslim  had  formerly  done.  His  religious  teaching 
consisted  in  the  assertion  that  God  had  several  times 
become  incarnate  among  men,  and  that  his  last  incarna- 
tion was  Molfanna'  himself.  Many  Persians  were  seduced 
by  his  words,  and  still  more  by  the  hope  of  phmdering 
the  property  of  the  Moslems,  which  Mokanna'  promised 
to  give  up  to  them.  The  governor  of  Khorisin  and 
several  oth:r  generals  who  marched  against  these  sectaries 
were  defeated ;  but  at  last  the  Caliph  charged  a  skilful 
captain,  Sa'id  al-Harashl,  with  the  direction  of  operations, 
and  Sa'id,  having  compelled  the  impostor  to  throw  him- 
self into  the  city  of  Kash,  soon  reduced  him  to  a  choice 
between  surrender  and  death.  Molfanna'  preferred  the 
latter  alternative,  and  took  poison. 

IhesB  disturbances  did  not  suffice  to  turn  Mahdfs 
tfioughta  from  the  hereditary  enemy  of  the  Caliphate. 
Every  summer  be  sent  expeditions  into  Asia  Jlinor 
against  the  Greeks ;  but  these  were  not  successful,  and 
the  Caliph  decided  on  leading  hia  army  in  persoa  Having 
levied  in  Khorisin  a  large  number  of  those  mountaineers 
who  had  always  distinguished  themselves  by  their  valour, 
he  assembled  his  army  in  the  plains  of  BaradAn,  on  the 
banks  of  the  Tigris,  and  commenced  his  march  A.H.  163, 
taking  with  him  his  second  son  Hiriin,  and  leaving  his 
eldest  son  MilsA  as  governor  of  Baghdid.  The  latter  waa 
also  designated  as  his  successor  in  the  Caliphate,  'tsi  b. 
Miisi  having  definitively  renounced  the  throne.  Mahdl 
traversed  Mesopotamia  and  Syria,  entered  Cilicia,  and 
established  himself  on  the  banks  of  the  Jaihdn  (Pyramusi. 
Thence  he  despatched  an  expeditionary  force,  at  the  head 
of  which  hia  son  HAriin  waa  nominally  placed.  In  reality, 
that  prince  being  too  young  to  direct  military  operations, 
the  chief  command  was  exercised  by  hia  tutor,  the 
Barmecide  Yahyi  b.  Kh.^lid.  Hariin  took  the  fortresa  oi 
Samilii  after  a  siege  of  thirty-eight  days.  In  consequence 
of  this  feat  of  arms,  Mahdl  made  Hiriin  governor  oi 
Azcrbaijin  and  Ajmenia.  Two  years  later  war  broke 
out  afresh  between  the  Moslems  and  the  Greeks.  jLco 
IV.,  Emperor  of  Constantinople,  had  recently  died,  leaving 
the  crown  to  Constantino  Porphyrogenitas.  This  prince 
was  then  only  ten  years  old,  and  would  have  been  incap- 
able of  governing.  His  mother  Irene  took  the  regency  oi) 
herself.  By  her  orders  an  army  of  90,000  men,  nndei 
the  cogimand  of  Michael  Lachonodracon,  entered  Asii 
Minor.  The  Moslems,  on  their  side,  invaded  Cilicia 
under  the  orders  of  'Abd  al-Kabir,  but  were  defeatecl  by 
the  Greeks.  Mahdl  then  recalled  hia  son  Hinin,  and 
enjoined  on  him  to  avenge  the  failure  of  the  arms  ot 
Islam.  Hinin  as-sembled  an  army  of  nearly  100,000 
men,  \nd  conceived  the  project  of  carrying  the  w^r  to  the 
very  gates  of  Constantinople.  Tho  patrician  Nicetaa, 
who  sought  to  oppose  nis  marcb,  was  defeated  by  Hiriin'a 
general,  Yazld  b.  Mazyad,  and  forced  to  take  refuge  at 
Nicomedia.      Hiriin  marched  through  Asia  Minor,  tnd. 


'abbAsids.] 


MOHAMMEDANISM 


581 


pitched  his  camp  en  the  shores  of  the  Bosphorus.  Irene 
took  alarm,  sued  for  peace,  and  obtained  it,  but  on 
homiliating  conditions.  This  brilliant  success  increased 
Mahdi's  affection  for  Hin^  to  suoh  an  extent  that  he 
resolved,  a  few  years  later,  to  declare  him  bis  successor 
(instead  of  M\i3^  It  was  necessary  first  to  obtain  from 
iiiiii.  &  renunciation  of  his  rights ;  and  for  this  purpose 
his  father  recalled  him  from  JorjAn,  where  he  was  then 
engaged  on  an  expedition  against  the  rebels  of  TabaristAh. 
Misd,  who  had  had  information  of  his  father's  intentions, 
refused  to  obey  this  order.  Mahdl  determined  to  march 
in  person  against  his  rebellious  son  (a.h.  169),  and  set 
out,  accompanied  by  HAriln.  But,  after  his  arrival  at 
MisabadhAn,  a  place  in  Persian  IrA^  or  Jabal,  the  Caliph 
died  suddenly,  at  the  age  of  only  forty-three.  There  are  two 
versions  of  the  cause  of  his  death :  some  attribute  it  to 
an  accident  met  with  in  hunting ;  others  believe  him  to 
have  been  poisoned.  If  this  was  really  the  case,  although 
we  have  no  proofs  against  Miisi,  we  may  reasonably  sus- 
'  pect  him  of  having  been  privy  tj  the  sudden  death  o^  his 
father. 

i.  Mahdi  having  died  before  he  could  carry  out  his 
plan  for  assuring  the  throne  to  HAniii,  the  succession  natur- 
ally fell  to  MiisA,  and  he  was  proclaimed  CMiph  at  Baghdid 
in  the  year  of  his  father's  death.  He  took  the  title  of 
H4df  (He  who  directs).  HArtlin  made  no  opposition  to  the, 
accession  of  his  brother,  and  the  army  which  had  accom- 
panied Mahdi  returned  peacefully  from  Jabal  to  Baghddd. 

The  accession  of  a  new  Caliph  doubtless  appeared  to  the 
partisans  of  the  house  of  'All  a  favourable  opportunity  for 
a  rising.  Hosain  b.  'All,  a  descendant  of  that  Hasan  who 
had  formerly  renounced  his  pretensions  to  th«  Caliphate 
through  fear  of  Mo'dwiya  L,  raised  an  insurrection  at 
Medina  with  the  support  of  numerous  adherents,  and  had 
himself  proclaimed  Caliph.'  But  having  pifortunately 
conceived  the  idea  of  going  on  pilgrimage  to  Mecca,  ho 
was  attacked  at  Fakh  by  a  party  of  'Abbisids,  and 
perished  in  the  combat.  His  cousin  Idrls  b.  'AbdaUAh 
Buccceded  in  escaping  and  fled  to  Egypt,  whence  he  passed 
into  Morocco ;  and  there,  at  a  later  period,  hie  son 
founded  the  Idrisite  dynasty. 

HAdl,  as  may  1)6  supposed,  "had  never  been  able  to  forget 
that  he  had  narrowly  escaped  being  supplanted  by  his 
brother.  He  formed  a  plan  for  excluding  HAnin  from  the 
Caliphate,  and  transmitting  the  succession  to  his  own  son 
Ja'far.  He  neglected  no  possible  means  of  attaining  this 
object,  and  obtained  the  assent  of  his  ministers,  and  of  the 
principal  chiefs  of  his  army,  who  took  the  oath  of  allegiance 
to  Ja'far.  Only  Yahyi  b.  KhAlid  the  Barmecide,  HAnin's 
former  tutor,  absolutely  refused  to  betray  the  interests  of 
Lis  pupiL.  In  a  discussion  which  took  place  between  him 
and  the  Caliph  on  this  subject,  YahyA  showed  such  firm- 
ness and  boldness  that  HAdl  resolved  on  his  death,  and 
Hai-thama  b.  A^an,  one  of  the  bravest  generals  of  the 
empire,  had  already  received  the  order  to  go  and  take  his 
head,  when  the  Caliph  died  suddenly.  One  of  those 
terrible  domestic  dramas  had  been  acted  of  which  so  many 
were  afterwards  seen  in  the  palace  of  the  Caliphs.  .  The 
mother  of  HAdl  and  HAnin'was  KhaizorAn,  a  haughty  and 
intriguing  woman,  whose  aim  it  was  to  get  the  direction 
of  afiairs  into  her  own  hands,  leaving  HAdl  only  the  shadow 
of  power.  Her  influence  over  all  matters  of  government 
was  BO  well  understood  that  her  door  was  beset  all  day 
by  a  crowd  of  petitioners,  who  neglected  the  Caliph  and 
preferred  to  address  their  requests  to  her.  HAdl  soon 
became  indignant  at  the  subordinate  part  which  .his 
mother  \\'ished  him  to  play,  and  after  a  dispute  on  the 
matter,  ho  attempted  to  poison  her.  KhaizorAn,  hoping 
to  find  a  more  submissive  instrument  of  her  will  in  her 
second  son.  and  wishinc  to  protect  herself  against  fresh  I 


attempts  at  murder,  caused  HAdl  to  be  taken  unawares 
and  smothered  with  cushions  by  two  young  slave.s  whom 
she  had  presented  to  him.  (Babl'  L,  a.ii.  170,  Sept. 
A.D.  786.)  '^ 

5.  We  have  now  reached  &o  most  celebrated  namendtr.ii 
among  the  Arabian  Caliphs,  celebrated  not  only  in  the-'i^a' 
East,  but  in  the  West  as  well,  where  the  stories  of  the  '*'''''• 
Thousand  and  One  Nights  have  made  us  familiar  with 
that   world  which   the  narrators  have  been  pleased   to 
represent  to  us  in  such  brilliant  colours. 

On  the  unexpected  death  of  HAdl,  the  generals  and 
ministers  who  had  declared  against  HAriin,  perceiving  that 
popular  favour  did  not  incline  to  the  son  of  the  lata 
Caliph,  hastened  to  rally  round  the  son  of  KhaizorAn ; 
and  HAriin,  suruamed  Al-Rashid  (The  Upright),  ascended 
the  throne  without  opposition.  His  first  act  was  to  choose 
as  prime  minister  his  former  tutor,  the  faithful  YahyA  b. 
KhAUd,  and  to  confide  important  posts  to  the  two  sons  of 
YahyA,  Fadl  and  Ja'far,  the  former  of  whom  was  also  his 
own  foster-brother.  The  Barmecide  family  were  endued 
in  the  highest  degree  with  those  qualities  of  generosity 
and  liberality  which  the  Arabs  prized  so  highly.  Thus 
the  chroniclers  are  never  wearied  in  their  praises  of  the 
Barmecides.  Loaded  with  all  the  hardens  of  government, 
YahyA  brought  the  most  distinguished  abUitios  to  the 
exercise  of  his  ofiice.  Ho  put  the  frontiers  in  a  state  of 
defence,  and  supplied  all  that  was  wanting  for  their 
security.  He  filled  the  public  treasiu-y,  and  carried  tho 
splendour  of  the  throne  to  the  highest  point.  The 
foUovring  anecdote  will  show  what  an  amount  of  earnest 
afltection  the  Barmecide  family  succeeded  in  winning : — 

After  HaxAn,  as  we  shall  relato  farther  on,  had  ruined  tho 
Barmecides  of  whose  influence  he  was  jealous,  lie  forbade  the  poets* 
to  compose  elegies  on  tho  disgrace  of  the  family,  and  commanded 
that  all  who  disobeyed  this  order  should  be  puniahed.  One  day, 
as  one  of  the  soldiers  of  the  Caliph's  guard  was  passing  near  a 
mined  building,  he  perceived  a  man  holding  a  paper  in  his  hand, 
and  reciting  aloud,  and  with  many  te.ira,  a  lament  over  tho  ruin  of 
tho  palace  of  the  Barmecides,  'fhe  soldier  arrested  the  man  and 
led  nim  to  the  pakce  of  the  Caliph,  who  ordered  the- culprit  to  be 
brought  before  him,  and  asked  him  why  he  had  infringed  his 
orders.  "Prince,"  replied  the  man,  *'lct  mo  relate  my  history  to 
thee  ;  when  thou  hast  heard  it,  do  with  me  as  thou  wilt.  I  was  aa 
inferior  clerk  tmder  YahyA  b.  Khulid.  He  said  to  me  one  day  : 
*  Thou  must  invite  me  to  thy  house.'  '  My  lord,*  I  replied,  *  1  am 
quite  unworthy  of  snch  an  honour,  and  my  house  i«  not  fit  tO' 
receive  thee."  '  No, '  sdd  Yahyd,  "  thou  must  absolutely  do  what  I 
require  of  thee.'  '  In  that  case,'  answered  I,  *  grant  me  some  littl& 
delay  that  1  may  moke  suitable  arrangements.'  Yahya  granted  me 
some  months.  As  soon  as  1  informed  him  that  1  was  ready,  he 
repaired  to  my  abode,  accompanied  by  his  two  sons,  Fadl  and 
Ja'far,  and  by  some  of  his  most  int'jiale  friends.  Scarcely  had  he 
dismounted  from  his  horse  when  *e  begged  mo  to  give  him  some- 
thiag  to  eat.  I  offered  him  com  roasted  chickeNS.  'ft'hen  he  had 
eaten  his  fill,  he  went  over  the  ^Mlolo  of  my  house,  and  having  seen 
it  all,  he  asked  me  to  show  him  the  buildings  attached  to  it  '  My 
lord,'  said  I,  'thou  hast  seen  evijiything. '  'No,'  said  he,  'thou 
hast  another  house.'  In  vain  I  assured  him  that  1  had  but  one  ; 
he  persisted  in  his  a.*;sertion,  and,  sending  for  a  mason,  ordered 
him  to  make  an  ofiening  in  tho  walL  '  My  lord,'  said  I,  '  may  I 
venture  thus  to  mako  my  way  into  my  neighbour's  house  ? '  *  It 
matters  not,'  replied  he.  'When  a  doorway  had  been  opened,  he 
passed  through  it,  followed  by  his  two  sons,  ajid  I  went  after  him. 
V^o  entered  a  delightful  garden,  well  planted  and  watered  by 
fountains.  In  this  garden  stood  a  beautiful  house  n-ith  pavilion* 
adorned  with  furniture  and  carpets,  and  filled  with  slaves  of  both. 
BCS03,  all  of  perfect  beauty.  'Ail  thLs  is  thine,' said  Yahya  to  me. 
I  kissed  his  hands  and  poured  out  my  thanks  to  him  ;  and  then  I 
learned  that  on  the  very  day  when  he  had  spoken  to  me  of  iiivitinff 
him  he  had  bought  tho  land  adjoining  to  my  house,  and  had  had 
it  laid  out  for  mo  without  my  ever  suspecting  it.  I  had  certainly 
noticed  that  building  was  going  on,  but  I  was  far  from  ima^ning 
that  all  this  was  intended  for  mo.  Yahya  next  addressed  himself 
to  Ja'far  and  said  :  '  Here  are  certainly  ^  house  and  servants,  but 
who  will  provide  for  their  support?'  'I,'  replied  Ja'far,  'will 
give  him  a  farm  and  its  de]>endcncie8,  and  will  send  him  the  deed 
of  gift.'  'Very  well,'  continued  YaliyA ;  'but  how  in  he  to  livd 
until  he  shall  receive  the  revenue  of  his  property  V  'I  owe  bim  ft 
thousand  pieces  of  gold,'  eoid  Fadl,  '  and  I  will  send  them  to  hi* 


582 


M  O  H  A  M  M  P]  D  A  N  I  S  M 


['aBBA3U)5. 


honac'  Tl:ark3  to  ttcso  magnilicont  gifts,  I  afterwarda  raiacd 
ffreiit  wea'th, — wealth  which  I  still  enjoy.  SIdco  that  day,  I  have 
nerer  lost  any  oppoitinity  of  singing  the  praises  of  t!mt  noblo 
fanjily.  And  now.  Prince,  slay  me  if  thou  wilt ;  I  am  ready  to 
die."  Hariin,  affected  by  this,  tale,  let  tho  man  depart,  and  in 
future  forbade  no  man  to  weep  for  the  tragical  end  of  the  sons  cf 
Barmak.     {El-l''ac!iri,  ed.  Ahlwardt,  p.  237.) 

Although  (he  administration  of  H.'iriin's  states  ■wa.n  com- 
mitted to  skilful  hands,  yet  the  first  years  of  liis  long 
reign  were  not  free  from  troubles.  Towards  tho  jear  176 
(a.d.  792-793),  a  member  of  the  house  of  "All,  named 
Yahyi  b.  'Abdallih,  -n'ho  had  taken  refuge  at  Dailam  on 
the  Bhores  of  the  Caspian  Sea,  succeeded  in  forming  a 
powerful  party,  and  publicly  announced  his  pretensions 
to  tho  Caliphate.  Hariiu  immediately  sent  an  army 
of  50,000  men  against  the  rebel,  under  the  command  of 
Fadl.  Pieluctant,  however,  to  fight  against  a  descendant 
of  the  Prophet,  Fadl  first  attempted  to  induce  him  to  sub- 
icit,  by  promising  him  safety  for  his  life  and  a  brilliant 
position  at  the  court  of  Baghdid.  YahyA  accepted  these 
conditions,  but  he  required  that  tho  Caliph  should  send 
him  letters  of  pardon  countersigned  by  tho  highest  legal 
a-utcorities  and  the  principal  personages  of  the  empire. 
E4nin  consented  to  do  so,  and  Yahyi,  furnished  with  the 
Caliph's  safe-conduct,  repaired  to  BaghdAd,  where  he  met 
wi<i  a  s;ilendid  reception.  At  "ihe  <ind  of  some  months, 
iswever,  he  was  calummousfy  accused  of  conspiracy,  and 
the  Caliph,  seizing  this  opportunity  of  ridding  himself  of 
•,  rival  who  might  prove  dangerous,  threw  him  into  prison, 
where  ho  was  soon  after  put  to  death.  Dreading  fresh 
insurrections,  Hirun  thought  it  well  to  oecure  the  person 
«f  another  descendant  of  'All,  Musi  b.  Ja'far,  who  was 
resident  at  Medina,  where  he  enjoyed  the  highest  consider- 
ation. The  unfortunate  man  was  seat  to  Baghdid,  and 
there  died  by  poison. 

Meanwhile  Hiriin  did  not  forget  tho  hereditary  enemy 
against  whom  he  had  already  fought.  Under  his  reign 
all  the  ftrong  places  of  Syria  were  formed  into  a  special 
province,  which  received  the  name  of  "Awdsim.  The 
charge  of  fortifying  the  city  of  Tarsus  v/as  committed  to 
Faraj,  tho  chief  of  the  Turkish  soldiers,  whom  the  Caliphs 
were  beginning  to  employ,  and  who  were  at  a  later  period 
to  become  their  masters.  The  ancient  Anazarbrj  was 
rebuilt,  and  garrisoned  with  -a  mUitary  colony  from 
IChorisAn.  Thanks  to  these  measures,  tho  Moslem  armies 
were  able  to  advance  boldly  into  Asia  Minor.  Ishi^:  b. 
Solaimdn  c'-.ered  Phrygia  and  defeated  the  Greek  gover- 
nor of  t'.at  province.  A  Moslem  fleet  destroyed  that  of 
the  Greeks  in  tho  Gulf  of  SataUa.  HArun  in  person 
invaded  Asia  Minor  in  the  year  181  (a.d.  797-793),  and 
■during  the  following  years  his  generals  gained  continual 
victories  over  the  Eyiantines,  so  that  Irene  was  compellod 
to  sue  for  peace.  An  attack  by  the  Khazars  called  tho 
Caliph's  attention  from  his  successes  in  Asia  INIinor.  That 
peoplo  had  made  an  irruption  into  Armenia,  and  their 
attack  had  been  so  sudden  that  the  I.Ioslcnis  wore  unable 
to  defend  themselves,  and  a  hundred  thousand  of  them 
had  been  reduced  to  captivity.  Two  valiant  generals, 
Khozaima  b.  Kh.'izim  and  Yazid  b.  Mazyad,  marched 
against  the  Khazars  and  drove  them  out  of  Armenia. 

"  In  tho  midst  of  the  cares  of  war,  HArun  did  not  forget 
his  religious  duties,  and  few  years  passed  without  his 
making  the  pilgrimage.  In  one  of  these  pilgrimages,  a.h. 
18G  (a.d.  802),  he  was  accompanied  by  his  t%vo  eldest 
son;:,  Mohammed  and  'AbdallAh,  and  having  determined 
to  fix  the  order  of  succession  in  so  formal  a  manner  as  to 
take  away  all  pretext  for  future  contentions,  he  executed 
a  deed  by  v/hich  he  appointed  Mohammed  his  immediate 
heir  ;  after  him  'AbdallAh,  and  'after  'AbdallAh  a  third  of 
his  sons,  named  KAsim.  Mohammed  received  the  suraamo 
of  Al-Amin  (The  Stu-e),  'AbdallAh  that  of  Al-Ma'miin  (Ha 


in  whom  men  trust),  and  KAsim  that  of  Mo'tamin  billAh 
(He  who  trusts  La  God).  HAriln  further  stipulated  that 
Ma'mdn  should  have  as  his  share,  during  the  lifetime  of 
his  brother,  the  government  of  the  eastern  part  of  the 
empire.  Each  of  the  parties  concerned  swore  to  observo 
faithfijiUy  every  part  of  this  deed,  which  the  Caliph  caused 
to  be  hung  up  in  the  Ka'ba,  imagining  that  it  would  bo 
thus  guaranteed  against  all  violation  on  the  part  of  men. 
These  precautious  were  to  be  rendered  vain  by  the  perfidy 
of  Amfn.  We  shall  see  hereafter  how  he  kept  his  oath, 
and  how  he  expiated  his  treachery  by  death. 

It  was  in  the  following  year,  at  the  very  moment  when 
the  Barmecides  thought  their  position  most  secure,  that 
HArdn  brought  sudden  ruin  upon  them.  The  causes  of 
their  disgrace  have  been  differently  stated  by  the  annaUsts. 
Some  relate  that  the  Caliph,  preferring  to  all  other  society 
ti::t  of  his  sister  "AbbAsa  and  of  Ja'far  b.  YahyA,  resolved 
to  unite  them  in  marriage,  in  order  to  be  able  to  bring 
ti.em  together  in  his  presence  without  a  breach  of  etiquette. 
Ilo'  meant,  however,  that  Ja'far  should  continue  to  bo 
only  the  nominal  husband  of  hia,  sister.  Ja'far  acceptei 
this  condition,  but  it  was  not  long  before  he  forgot  it, 
and  the  Caliph  learned  that  his  sister  had  given  birth  to  a 
son.  This,  it  is  said,  was  the  cause  of  Ja'far's  disgrace, 
which  involved  his  father  !!.nd  his  brother.  This  story 
may  bo  trae ;  but  the  principal  cause  of ,  the  fall  of  the 
Barmecides  appears  to  ■  have  consisted  in  the  abuses  of 
power  of  which  they  had  been  guilty,  and- in  the  sovereign 
influence  which  they  exercised  on  those  around  them. 
The  Barmecides  lived  in  a  magnificent  palace  opposite  to 
that  of  the  Caliph.  Seeing  one  day  an  extraordinary  crow  d 
around  tho  dwelling  of  liis  first  minister,  HArun  was  movw'd 
to  say :  "  Verily  YahyA  has  taken  all  business  into  his 
own  hands  ;  he  it  is  who  really  exercises  supreme  power  ; 
as  for  me,  I  am  Caliph  only  in  name."  This  secret  dis- 
satisfaction was  increased  by  a  new  act  of  disobedience 
on  the  part  of  Ja'far.  HAriin  had  ordered  him  to  put  to 
death  secretly  a  member  of  the  house  of  'All,  whose 
intrigijes  he  dreaded.  Ja'far  allowed  the  victim  to  escape, 
and  afterwards  swore  to  the  Caliph  that  his  orders  had 
been  executed.  Soon  after,  however,  information  against 
him  was  given  to  HArun,  who,  after  compelling  Ja'far  to 
acknov/ledge  the  truth,  had  his  head  struck  off  and  brought 
to  him  by  Masrur,  the  chief  of  his  eunuchs.  On  the  very 
next  day  \'ahyA,  his  son  Fadl,  and  all  the  other  Barme- 
cides, were  arrested  and  imprisoned ;  all  their  property 
was  confiscated  ;  and  HAriin  chose  as  his  prime  minister 
Fadl  b.  Eabi",  who  had  been  his  chamberlain. 

in  the  same  year,  a  revolution  broke  out  at  Constan- 
tinople, which  overthrew  the  Empress  Irene,  and  raised 
Nicophonis  to  power.  Tlie  new  emperor  had  scarcely 
ascended  tho  throne,  when  he  thought  himself  strong 
euouqh  to  refuse  the  payment  of  tribute,  and  wrote  an 
insulting  letter  to  HArun,  who  contented  himself  with 
replying:  "Thou  shalt  not  hear,  but  see,  my  answer." 
He  then  assembled  an  army,  entered  Asia  Minor,  and 
took  Heraclea,  phmdering  and  burning  along  his  whole 
line  of  march,  till  Nicephorus,  in  his  alarm,  sued  for 
peace.  Scarcely  had  the  Caliph  returned  into  winter 
quartei-s,  when  Nicephorus  broke  the  treaty.  Notwith- 
standing tho  rigour  of  the  season,  HArun  retraced  hia 
steps,  and  this  time  Nicephorus  was  compelled  to  observe 
his  engagements.  The  year  after,  A.n.  189  (a.d.  804- 
805),  disturbances  arose  in  KhorAsAn.  They  were  caused 
by  the  malversations  of  tho  governor  of  that  province, 
'AH  b.  'IsA,  and  tho. Caliph  went  in  person  to  Mcrv  to 
judgo  of  tho  reality  of  the  complaints  which  had  reached 
him.  'All  b.  'IsA  hastened  to  meet  the  Caliph  on  his 
arrival  at  Ray.  He  brought  with  him  a  great  quantity 
of  presents,  which   he   distributed  with  such   profusioo 


ABaitWO.] 


MOHAMMEDANISM 


583 


among  the  courtien  that  every  one  found  a  thoxisand 
reasons  for  excusing  hia  conduct,  llinin  confirmed  him 
in  hia  p<3at  and  returned  to  Baghd&d,  through  which,  how- 
ever, he  only  passed,  and  went  on  to  Ra^^  on  the 
Euphrates,  a  city  which  became  his  habitual  residence. 
He  did  not  long  enjoy  the  repose  which  he  went  there  to 
seek,  for  Nicephorus  again  broke  the  treaty  of  peace,  and 
the  CaGph  was  obliged  to  take  the  field  anew.  Once 
more  Nicephorus  was  beaten,  and  so  completely  that  he 
was  obliged  to  submit  to  the  very  harsh  conditions  which 
th^  victor  imposed  on  him. 

Two  years  later,  new  disturbances  broke  out  in  Khori- 
sin,  where  a  certain  Eifi'  b.  Laith  had  revolted.  Hiriln 
set  out  again  for  that  province,  accompanied  by  bis  son 
Ma'miin.  It  was  to  be  his  last  journey.  He  was  attacked 
by  a  tumour  in  the  abdomen,  and  struggled  in  vain  against 
this  malady,  which  carried  him  off  a  year  after  his  depart- 
ure, A.H.  193  (a.d.  808-809),  just  on  his  arrival  at  the  city 
of  Tus,  the  birthplace  of  the  great  epic  poet  of  Persia, 
Firdaust     Hinin  was  only  forty-seven  years  of  age. 

6.  On  the  death  of  HAnin,  his  minister  Fadl  b.  Rabf 
.hastened  to  call  together  all  the  troops  of  the  late  Caliph, 
and  to  lead  them  back  to  Baghddd,  in  order  to  place  them 
in  the  hands  of  the  new  sovereign,  Amln.  He  even  led 
back  the  corps  which  V7as  intended  to  occupy  KhorisAn, 
and  which  ought  to  have  fallen  to  the  share  of  Ma'miin, 
according  to  the  testament  of  Hinln.  Fadl  b.  Eabf  thus 
committed  a  serious  violation  of  the  rights  of  Ma'miin  ;  but 
be  cared  little  for  this,  being  chiefly  desirous  of  vrinning 
the  confidence  of  the  new  Caliph.  He  was  quite  aware, 
however,  that  in  thus  acting  he  was  making  Ma'miin  his 
irreconcilable  enemy ;  and  he  therefore  purposed  to  use 
every  endeavour  to  arouse  against  biTn  the  enmity  of  his 
brother  Amin.  He  advised  him  to  exclude  Ma'miin  from 
the  succession,  and  the  Caliph  was  weak  enough  to  listen 
to  him.  Receiving  the  order  to  resign  his  government  of 
Khoris.ir.  and  to  repair  to  Baghdid,  Ma'miin  was  greatly 
perplexed ;  but  his  tutor  and  vizier,  Fadl  b.  Sahl,  reani- 
mated his  courage,  and  pointed  out  to  him  that,  if  he 
obeyed  the  orders  of  the  Caliph,  certain  death  awaited  him 
at  BaghdAd.  Ma'miin  resolved  to  hold  out  against  Amln, 
and  found  pretexts  for  eluding  the  orders  of  his  brother 
and  remaining  in  Khorisdn.  Amln,  ih  his  anger,  caused 
the  testament  of  his  father,  which,  as  we  have  seen,  was 
preserved  in  the  Ka'ba,  to  be  destroyed,  declared,  on  his 
own  authority,  the  rights  of  Ma'miin  to  the  Caliphate  to 
be  forfeited,  and  caused  the  army  to  swear  allegiance  to 
Ms  own  son  MiisA,  a  child  five  years  of  age,  on  whom  he 
bestowed  the  title  of  Nitik  bil-Hakk,  "He  who  speaks 
according  to  truth  "  (a.h.  194,  a.d.  809-810).  On  hearing 
the  news,  Ma'miin,  strong  in  the  rightfulness  of  his  claim, 
retaliated  by  suppressing  the  Caliph's  name  in  all  public 
acts.  Amln  immediately  despatched  to  Khorisin  an  army 
of  fifty  thousand  men,  under  the  command  of  'All  b.  'tsi. 
Ma'miin,  on  hia  side,  raised  troops  among  his  faithful 
people  of  KhorisAn,  and  entrusted  their  command  to  TAhir 
b.  Hosain,  who  displayed  remarkable  abilities  in  the  war 
that  ensued.  In  the  following  year,  the  two  armies  met 
under  the  walls  of  Ray,  and  victory  declared  for  TAhir. 
Ma'miin  now  no  longer  hesitated  to  take  the  title  of  Caliph. 
The  year  after,  Amln  placed  in  the  field  two  new  armies, 
commanded  respectively  by  Ahmed  b.  Mazyad  and  "Abd- 
allAh  b.  Homaid  b.  Kahtaba.  The  skilful  TAhir  b.  Hosain 
succeeded  in  creating  divisions  among  the  troops  of  his 
adversaries,  and  obtained  possession,  without  striking  a 
blow,  of  the  city  of  HolwAn,  an  advantage  wbich  placed 
him  at  the  very  gates  of  BaghdAd.  Ma'miin  immediately 
sent  Tahir  reinforcements  under  the  orders  of  Harthama 
b.  AVan,  which  enabled  him  to  maintain  a  firm  hold  on 
All  the  conquered  territory,  and  to  continue  his  victorious 


march  to  the  capit&L  Reverses  naturally  lead  to  fresh 
reverses.  One  aJEter  the  other  the  provinces  fell  away 
from  Amln,  and  he  soon  found  himself  in  possession  of 
BaghdAd  alone,  which  was  speedily  invested  by  the  troops 
of  TAhir  and  Harthama.  That  unfortunate  capital,  though' 
blockaded  on  every  side,  made  a  desperate  defence  for  two 
years.  Ultimately  the  eastern  part  of  the  city  fell  into 
the  hands  of  tiiiii,  and  Amln,  deserted  by  his  followers, 
was  compelled  to  surrender.  He  resolved  to  treat  with 
Harthama,  as  he  hated  TAhir;  but  this  step  caused  his 
ruin.  TAhir  learned  by  his  spies  that  Harthama  was  to 
receive  the  Caliph  in  person,  and  gave  orders  to  a  body  of 
horsemen  to  arrest  Amtn  as  he  issued  from  BaghdAd  under 
cover  of  the  night.  On  the  banks  of  the  Tigris,  Harthama 
awaited  Amln  with  a  boat,  but  scarcely  had  the  Caliph  set 
foot  in  it,  when  the  agetits  of  TAliir  poured  on  it  a  storm 
of  arrows  and  stones.  The  boat  sank,  and  the  Caliph  had 
to  make  his  escape  by  swimming.  But  he  was  clocely 
followed  up,  and  had  scarcely  left  the  river  when  he  fell 
into  the  hands  of  his  enemies,  who  shut  him  up  in  a  hut 
and  went  to  inform  TAhir  of  the  capture.  The  victorious 
general  immediately  ordered  him  to  be  put  to  death,  and 
the  order  was  carried  out.  The  head  of  the  unfortunate 
Amln  was  cut  off  and  sent  to  Ma'miin,  a.h.  1 98.  It  was 
presented  to  him  by  his  vizier,  Fadl  b.  Sahl,  surnamed 
Dhii  '1-RiyAsatain,  or  "the  man  with  two  governments," 
because  Jus  master  had  committed  to  him  both  the  ministry 
of  war  and  the  general  administration.  Ma'miin,  on  see- 
ing the  head,  hid  his  joy  beneath  a  feigned  display  of 
sorrow. 

7.  On  tne  day  following  that  on  which  Amln  had  JU'mun, 
perished  so  miserably,  TAhir  caused  Ma'miin  to  be  pro- 
claimed at  BaghdAd.  The  accession  of  this  prince  appeared 
likely  to  put  an  end  to  the  evils  of  civil  war,  and  to 
restore  to  the  empire  the  order  necessary  for  its  prosperity. 
It  was  not  so,  however.  The  reign  of  Ma'miin — that 
reign  on  which  art,  science,  and  letters,  under  the  patron- 
age of  the  Caliph,  threw  so  brilliant  a  lustre — had  a  verj- 
stormy  beginning.  Ma'miin  was  in  no  haste  to  remove 
to  BaghdAd,  but  continued  to  make  Jlerv  his  temporarj' 
residence.  In  his  gratitude  to  the  two  men  to  whom  he 
owed  his  throne,  he  conferred  on  TAhir  the  government 
of  Mesopotamia  and  Syria,  and  chose  as  prime  minister  of 
the  empire  Fadl  b.  Sahl,  who  had  been  already  his  vizier 
in  the  government  of  KhorAsAn.  The  adherents  of  "AH 
seized  on  the  elevation  of  Ma'miin  to  power  as  a  pretext 
for  fresh  revolts  at  Mecca,  at  Medina,  and  in  'IrAk.  At 
Cufa  a  certain  Ibn  TabAtabA  also  broke  out  into  open 
rebellion,  and  placed  an  army  in  the  field  under  one  of 
his  .partisans,  Abii  '1-SarAyA.  Hasan  b.  Sahl,  brother  of 
Ma'miin's  prime  minister,  who  had  been  made  governor 
of  all  the  provinces  conquered  by  TAhir,  immediately  sent 
troops  against  Cufa.  "They  were  defeated,  and  Abii  'I- 
SarAyA,  encouraged  by  this  first  success,  and  no  longer 
finding  a  secondary  part  sufficient  for  his  ambition, 
poisoned  his  chief  Ibn  TabAtabA,  and  put  in  his  place 
another  of  the  family  of  'All,  Mohammed  b.  Mohammed, 
whom,  on  account  of  his  extreme  youth,  he  hoped  to 
govern  at  his  will.  Fresh  troops  sent  against  Abii  '1- 
SarAyA  fared  no  better  than  the  first,  and  several  cities  of 
'IrAk,  as  Basra,  WAsit,  and  MadAin,  fell  into  the  hands  of 
the  rebels.  Abii  '1-SarAyA  was  already  marching  'against 
BaghdAd,  when  Hasan  b.  Sahl,  in  great  alarm,  hastily 
recalled  Harthama  b.  A'yan,  one  of  the  heroes  of  the  civil 
war,  who  was  already  on  his  way  back  to  Merv.  As  soon 
as  this  general  had  returned  from  KhorAsAn,  the  face  of 
affairs  changed.  The  adherents  of  'All  were  everywhere 
driven  back,  and  the  whole  of  'IrAk  fell  again  into  the 
hands  of  the  "AbbAsid?.  Cufa  was  taken  by  assault,  and 
both  Abii  'l-SarAyA  and  Mohammed  b.  Mohammed  were 


584 


M  O  H  A  M  M  E  D  A  N  1  S  M 


[  ABBA2IDS. 


made  prisoners.  Thu  loimer  had  his  head  struck  off;  the 
latter  was  sent  to  Khorisin.  The  revolt  in  Arabia  was 
also  quickly  stifled,  and  it  might  have  been  supposed  that 
peace  was  about  to  be  re-established.  This,  however,  was 
by  no  means  the  case.  The  civil  war  had  caused  a  swarjn 
of  vagabonds  to  spring,  Ps  -it  were,  from  underground  at 
Baghdad.  They  proceedtii  to  treat  the  capital  as  a  con- 
quered city ;  and  such  was  their  audacity  that  they 
plundered  houses  and  cairied  off  women  and  children  at 
mid-day.  It  became  necessary  for  all  good  citizens  to 
organize  themselves  into  a  regwlar  nulitia,  in  order  to 
master  these  luffians.  Meanwhile,  at  Merv,  Ma'miin  was 
adopting  a  decision  which  fell  Uke  a  thunderbolt  on  the 
'Abbisids.  In  A.H.  201  (a.d.  816-817),  under  pretence  of 
jiutting  an  end  to  the  continual  revolts  of  the  partisans  of 
'AH,  and  acting  on  the  advice  of  his  prime  minister,  Fadl, 
bo  publicly  designated  as  his  successor  in  the  Caliphate 
"All  b.  Milsi,  a  direct  descendant  of  Hosain  the  son  of 
'AH,  and  proscribed  black,  the  colour  of  the  'Abbisids,  in 
favour  of  that  of  the  house  of  'AH,  green.  This  step  was 
well  calculated  to  delight  the  followers  of  'AH,  but  it 
natmally  could  not  fail  to  exasperate  the  "Abbisida  and 
their  partisans.  The  people  of  Baghdid  refused  to  take 
the  oath  to  'All  b.  Miisi  as  heir-presumptive,  declared 
Ibrdhiui  Ma'miin  deposed,  and  elected  his  uncle  Ibrihlm,  son  of 
'i  hi(  ^^''■'"i'l  to  the  Caliphate.'-  The  news  reached  the  Caliph 
iiecteJiit°"'y  iudii-ectly,  for  his  minister  Fadl,  desiring  to  leave 
IlcighiUA  Ma'mi'in  only  the  shadow  of  power,  kept  all  important 
events  carefully  from  his  knowledge.  The  eyes  of  the 
Caliph  were  opened,  and  he  now  perceived  that  Fadl  had 
been  treating  him  as  a  puppet.  His  anger  knew  no 
bounds.  Fadl  was  one  day  found  murdered,  and  'All  b. 
Mi^si  died  suddenly.  The  historians  bring  no  open  accu- 
sation against  ila'miin  of  having  got  rid  of  these  two 
personages  ;  but  it  seems  clear  that  it  was  not  chance  that 
did  him  such  a  seasonable  service.  .  Ma'miln  of  course 
affected  the  profoundest  grief,  and,  in  order  to  disarm 
susjncion,  appointed  as  his  prime  minister  the  brother  of 
Fadl,  Hasan  b.  Sahl,  whose  daughter  BirAn  he  also  after- 
wards married.  But  on  the  other  hand,  in  order  to  quiet 
the  people  of  Baghdad,  he  wrote  to  them  :  "The  cause  of 
V'Ur  dis.'atisfaction  in  the  business  of  'AU  b.  MiisA  no 
longer  exists ;  since  ho  who  was  the  fibject  of  your  resent- 
ment li.is  just  died."  From  that  moment  the  pseudo- 
calipli  Ilir.Ahlm  found  himself  deserted,  and  was  obliged 
to  seek  safety  in  concealment.  His  precaiious  reign  had, 
however,  lasted  nearly  two  years.  Ma'mi\n  now  decided 
on  tiiaking  a  iniblic  entry  into  Baghdad,  but  to  show  that 
lie  came  as  a  master,  he  still  displayed  for  several  days 
the  green  flag  of  the  house  of  'AH,  though  at  last,  at  the 
rntrcaty  of  his  coiuticrs,  he  consented  to  resume  the  black. 
From  this  time  the  real  reign  of  Ma'nnin  began,  freed  as 
lie  now  was  from  the  guardianship  of  Fadl.  His  general 
TAliir  alone  ro\itiiuuHl  to  excite  his  su.'picions.  Under 
the  pretence  that  he  could  no  longer  endure  the  sight  of 
the  murderer  of  liis  brother,  he  removed  T.ihir  to  a  dis- 
tance by  apiKiinting  him  governor  of  Khor.'lfAn.  Like  most 
of  the  grcit  Moslem  generals,  T'^hir,  it  is  said,  conceived 
the  project  of  creating  an  independent  kingdom  for  himself. 
His  death,  A.n.  207,  prevented  its  realization ;  but  as  his 
descendants  succrcdeil  liim  one  after  the  other  in  the  post 
of  governor,  ho  may  be  said  to  have  really  founded  a 
dynasty  in  Khor;W;in.  When,  two  years  later,  the  imiiostor 
B.-ibak  set  up  a  communi.stic  sect  in  Armenia  and  Azcr- 
baijAn,  it  was  a  son  of  X'lhir,  'Abdalhlh,  who  was  commis- 
nioneil  by  Jla'muM  to  put  him  down.  Notwithstanding  his 
ibility,  'AlxlalhUi  could  not  accomplish  the  task,  and  it 


'«  (I  TcnKirVal'le  cssnv  by  Bnitncr  Uo  Aleyuarvl,  iu 
.  for  March  Ai.lil.  IMS). 


was  only  under  Ma'mun's  successor  that  B.'ibak  vfas  taken 
and  put  to  death. 

Ever  since  Ma'miin's  entry  into  Baghdid,  the  pseudo- 
caliph  Ibrihlm  had  led  a  wandering  life.  He  wn» 
arrested  one  night  in  Baghdid,  under  the  disguise  of  a 
woman,  and  brought  before  Ma'miin.  The  latter  gener- 
ously pardoned  him,  and  also  granted  an  amnesty  to  the 
former  minister  of  Amfn,  Fadl  b.  Rabf,  although  he  had 
been  the  chief  promoter  of  the  terrible  civil  war  which  had 
so  lately  shaken  the  empire.  After  that  time,  Ibrihlm 
the  son  of  Mahdi  lived  peacefully  at  the  court,  cultivating 
the  arts  of  singing  and  music,  in  which  he  excelled. 

Tranquillity  being  now  everywhere  re-established,  ila'- 
miin  gave  himself  up,  without  hindrance,  to  his  scientific 
and  literary  tastes.  He  caused  worka  on  mathematics, 
astronomy,  medicine,  and  philosophy,  to  be  translated 
from  tie  Greek.  It  was  also  by  his  orders  that  two 
learned  mathematicians  undiertook  the  measurement  of  a 
degree  of  the  earth's  circumference.  Ma'miin  interested 
himself,  too,  in  questions  of  religious  dogma.  Shocked 
at  the  opinion  which  had  spread  among  the  Moslem 
doctors,  that  the  Koran  was  the  uncreated  word  of  God, 
he  published  au  edict' commanding  them  to  renounce  this 
error.  Several  distinguished  doctors,  and,  among  others, 
the  celebrated  Ibn  Hanbal,  founder  of  one  of  the  four 
orthodox  Moslem  sects,  were  obliged  to  appear  before  an 
inquisitorial  tribunal ;  and  as  they  persisted  in  their 
belief  respecting  the  Koran,  they  were  thrown  into  prison. 
Meanwhile,  war  having  broken  out  between  the  Greeks 
and  the  Moslems,  Ma'miin  set  out  for  Asia  Minor,  to  put 
himself  at  the  head  of  his  army.  On  his  arrival  at  Tarsus, 
he  received  from  the  governor  of  Baghdid  the  lepoit  of 
the  tribunal  of  inquisition,  and  ordered  that  the  culprits 
should  be  sent  off  to  him.  Happily  for  these  unfortunate 
doctors,  they  had  scarcely  started  on  the  road  to  the 
frontiers,  when  news  of  the  Caliph's  death  reached 
Baghdid.  Ma'miin  having  bathed  in  the  Podendon,  a 
burning  fever  was  the  result,  which  brought  him  to  tha 
grave  in  A.H.  218  (a.d.  833).  Before  his  death,  ho 
designated  as  his  successor  his  brother  Mo'tasim  bilhUi, 
(He  who  seeks  defence  in  God),  whom  he  had  for  a  long 
time  preferred  to  Mo'tamin. 

8.  The  accession  of  the  new  Caliph  Motasim  met  at  Motatia 
first  with  active  opix)sition  in  the  army,  .where  a  powerful  biUii. 
party  had  been  formed  in  favour  of  "Abbds,  the  son  of 
Ma'miin.  Thanks,  however,  to  the  disinterested  conduct 
of  that  prince,  civil  war  was  averted.  'Abb:i3  publicly 
renounced  all  pretension  to  the  Caliphate,  and  took  the 
oath  of  allegiance  to  his  uncle.  Mo'tamin,  the  son  of 
H.'lriin,  imitated  the  conduct  of  'Abbis,  and  the  whole 
army  accepted  Jlo'tasim,  who  made  his  public  euti7  into 
Baghdid  in  the  month  of  Ramadan  218. 

The  new  Caliph,  far  from  putting  a  stop  to  the  persecu- 
tion which  had  been  directed  against  the  orthodox  doctors, 
took  up  and  carried  out  the  views  of  Jila'mun.  The 
doctor  Ibn  Hanbal  was  beaten  with  roils  and  tlnon-n  into 
jirison,  together  with  several  of  his  companions,  and  waa 
not  restored  to  liberty  till  the  Calijihato  of  Motawakkil. 
This  persecution  h.id  already  prejudiced  the  jieople  against 
Mo'tasim,  and  their  discontent  became  more  marked  wlicii 
the  Caliph  created  a  new  body  of  troops,  specially  intended 
to  watch  over  his  jiei-son.  This  new  guard  was  composed 
of  Turks,  an  unbridled  and  undisciplined  liody  of  soUliciy, 
who,  moreover,  held  in  open  contempt  the  religious  pre- 
cepts of  Islam.  Tired  of  the  excesses  of  every  kind  com- 
mitted by  the  Turk.i,  the  people  of  BaglnhUl  rose  in 
insurrection,  and  Mo't.iKi?n,  net  daring  to  act  with  severity 
cither  against  his  guard  or  the  citizen.-^  took  the  rourso  cM 
quitting  tlio  city.  I.eavini;  tlie  governiiieiit  of  the  rnpitol 
in  the  hands  of  his  son  AV.'ithil;  billih  (He  who  trusts  iu 


y.i»«fRma  J 


MOHAMMEDANISM 


585 


God),  he  cslaUisiicd  hisrself  n-ith  lu3  guard  at  S&macra,  a 
small  placo  situated  a  few  leagues  above  Baglid&d,  and 
changed  its  name  to  Sona-man-ra'a  (He  rejoices  who 
sees  it).  This  resolution  of  Mo'taaim  was  destined  to 
prove  fatal  to  his  dynasty ;  for  it  placed  the  Caliphs  at  the 
mercy  of  their  'Praetorians.  In  fact,  from  the  time  of 
Mo'tasim,  the  Caliphate  became  the  plaything  of  the 
Turkish  guard,  and  its  decline  was  continuous.  Some 
glorious  feats  of  arms,  however,  were  still  performed 
under  MoHasim.  The  sectary  Bdbak  was  at  last  taken  by 
Afshin,  a  Turkish  general  of  the  Caliph,  in  the  year  223 
(a.d.  837-838).  B4bak  was  carried  to  Baghdid,  led 
through  the  city  on  the  back  of  an  elephant,  and  then 
delivered  to  the  executioners,  who  cut  off  his  arms  and 
his  legs.  Afshin,  however,  was  -very  ill  revrarded  for  hie 
aervices,  for  shortly  afterwards  the  Caliph  had  him  put  to 
death  on  a  charge  of  heresy. 

The  death  of  Ma'miin  had  lor  the  moment  suspended' 
hostilities  with  Constantinople ;  under  Mo'tasim  the  war 
was  rekindled.  A  "valiant  Greek  general,  Manuel,  who 
had  incurred  the  displeasure  of  the  Emperor  Theophilus, 
took  refuge  with  the  CaUph,  who  eagerly  welcomed  him 
and  gave  him  a  command.  Manuel  began  by  reducing 
Khor&sin,  which  had  risen  in  revolt,  and  Mo'tasim  was  so 
well  satisfied  with  him  that  he  thought  of  employing  him 
against  his  own  countrymen.  This  was  precisely  what 
Theophilus  dreaded,  and  he  took  measures  accordingly  to 
bring  back  the  banished  general  to  his  side.  He  sent  an 
ambassador  to  Motasim,  under  pretence  of  ransoming 
some  Greek  prisoners ;  but  the  real  object  of  his  mission, 
which  he  contrived  to  communicate  to  Manuel,  was  the 
recall  of  that  general.  Manuel,  feigning  great  animosity 
against  his  country,  himself  asked  to  be  allowed  to  lead  a 
Moslem  army  into  Cappadocia.  The  Caliph  granted  his 
request,  and  sent  with  him  his  own  son  Withi^  biUih. 
But,  as  soon  as  they  reached  the  frontiers  of  Cappadocia, 
Manuel  confessed  to  the  young  prince  that  his  intention 
was  to  return  to  Constantinople,  and  quitted  the  army. 
Theophilus,  taking  advantage  of  the  confusion  into  which 
the  departure  of  Manuel  had  thrown  the  Moslems,  made 
an  incursion  into  Syria,  laid  waste  that  province  as  far  as 
Zabatra,  and  returned  loaded,  with  booty.  At  the  news  of 
this  disaster,  MoHasim  assembled  a  formidable  army, 
estimated  at  more  than  two  hundred  thousand  men, 
penetrated  into  Asia  Minor,  beat  the  Greeks,  and  took 
the  city  of  Amorium,  which,  he  ordered  to  be  razed  to  the 
ground.  A  revolt  which  broke  out  at  Baghd&d  in  favour 
of  his  nephew  'Abbis,  "the  son  of  Ma'miin,  compelled  the 
Caliph  to  turn  bact  Mo'tasim  had  the  unfortunate 
'Abbis  arrested,  and  he  was  soon  after  found  dead  in  his 
prison.  Af  o'tasim  survived  him  oiJy  four  years.  He  died 
at  Sgrra-man-ra'a,  in  A.H.  227  (a.d.  841-842). 

9.  His'son  Withi]^  who  succeeded  him,  showed  himself 
no  less  intolerant  on  the  doctrinal  question  of  the  un- 
created Koran.  He  carried  his  zeal  to  such  a  point  that, 
on  the  occasion  of  an  exchange  of  Greek  against  Moslem 
prisoners,  in  the  year  231  (a.d.  845-846),  he  ordered, that 
all  the  Moslem  captives  who  would  not  declare  their 
belief  that  the  Koran  was  a  human  work,  should  be  left 
in  the  hands  of  the  enemy.  The  reign  of  Withi^  bill4h 
was  not  otherwi-w  marked  by  any  very  striking  events. 
He  died  in  232  (a.d.  84G-847),  after  a  reign  of  five  years. 
Ab  he  had  appointed  no  successor  before  his  death,  the 
principal  personages  of  the  state  at  first  cast  their  eyes  on 
his  son  Slohammed ;  but  they  had  scarcely  saluted  him 
with  the  title  of  Caliph,  when  they  changed  their  purpose, 
and  offered  the  supreme  power  to  Motawakkil  'ala  '114h 
(He  who  trusts  to  God),  brother  of  Wdthilf.  This  prince 
wa.<>  therefore  elected  in  the  some  year  in  which  Withi^ 
died. 


10.  The   first  act   of   Motawakkil   waa   an   atrocious  Uot«- 
cruelty.      He   seized   Mohammed   b.  *Abd  al-Melik,   his*'':*^ 
brother's  vizier,  who  .had  always  been  his  enemy,   and 
ordered  him  to  be  placed  in  a  furnace  bristling  within 
with  iron  points,  which  was  then  raised  to  a  red  heat. 

The  Caliph  looked  on  at  the  agonies  of  his  victim, 
incessantly  repeating :  "  Pity  is  a  weakness."  This  had 
been  the  favourite  maxim  of  the  unfortunate  vizier.  An 
impostor  named  Mohammed  b.  Faraj  had  set  himself,  up 
as  a  prophet,  giring  out  that  he  was  Moses  risen  from  the 
dead.  By  means  of  this  gross  fabrication,  he  had  con- 
trived to  attract  twenty-seven  followers:  The  Caliph  had 
him  seized,  and  condemned  him  to  perpetual  imprison- 
ment ;  but  first  he  compelled  each  of  the  followers  of 
Mohammed  to  give  the  pretended  prophet  ten  blows  on 
the  head  with  his  fist ;  and  the  poor  wretch  expired  under 
the  hands  of  his  own  disciples,  (a.b.  235,  A.D.  849-850.) 
In  the  year  of  hia  elevation  to  the  Odiphate,  Mota- 
wakkil had  regtilated  the  succession  to  the  empire'  in  his 
own  family,  by  designating  as  future  Caliphs  his  three 
sons,  Montasir  billAh  (He  who  seeks  help  in  God),  Mo'tazi 
billih  (Strong  through  God),  and  Mowayyad  bilUh 
(Assisted  by  God).  In  acting  thns,  his  object  was  to 
protest  against  the  tendency  of  his  predecessors  to  favour 
the  house  of  'All,  and  to  guard  against  the  attainment  of 
the  Caliphate  by  any  member  of  that  house.  Motawakkil 
displayed  the  most  extreme  hatred  for  the  descendants  of 
the  prophet.  He  even  went  so  far  as  to  destroy  the 
chapeT  erected  over  the  tomb  of  Hosain  at  Kerbelij  and 
forbade  the  ShTites  to  visit  the  spot.  Not  content  with 
attacking  the  liberty  and  the  property  of  the  descendants  of 
'All,  he  insulted  their  belief,  by  taking  huffoons  into  his 
pay,  whose  bvisiness  it  was  to  turn  the  person  of  'All  into 
mockery.  He  also  persecuted  the  Oiristians  and  the 
Jews ;  excluding  them  from  all  public  employments,  and 
obliging  them  to  send  their  children  to  Moslem  schools. 
In  the  year  237,  a  revolt  brolce  out  in  Armenia.  The 
Caliph  sent  the  Turk  Bugha  against  the  rebels ;  but  they 
met  him  with  a  vigorous  resistance,  and  it  was  four  years 
befora  peace  was  restored  to  the  province.  During  that 
time  the  Greeks  effected  a  descent  on  Egypt,  and  Damietta 
was  taken  and  burned.  Motawakkil  caused  Damietta  to 
be  fortified,  and  transferred  liis  own  residence  to  Damascus, 
doubtless  that  he  might  be  able  to  keep  a  clo-ser  watch  on 
the  proceedings  of  the  Byzantines.  He  soon  thought 
himself  strong  enough  to  take  the  offensive,  and  poured 
his  Turkish  soldiery  into  Asia  Minor,  where  they 
encountered  the  i>ame  Manuel  who  had  been  formerly 
received  at  the  court  of  Mo'tasim.  After  an  alternation 
of  sluccessea  and  reverses,  both  Moslems  and  Greeks 
retired  from  the  conflict.  Motawakkil  then  returned  to 
his  residence  at  Sorra-man-ra'a,  and  there  caused  a  magni- 
ficent quarter  to  be  built,  which  he  called  Ja'fariyya,* 
There  he  gave  himself  up  to  debaucheries ;  till  at  last, 
during  one  of  his  orgies,  he  was  murdered  by  a  Turkish 
soldier  named  Wasif,  who  had  been  bribed  to  the  deed 
by  his  own  son  Montasir  billih  (a.h.  247,' a.d.  861-8G2). 

11.  On   the  very  night   of   his   father's   assassination  Itorv 
Montasir  had  himself  proclaimed  CaUph.     The  conspirators  *"■'"• 
among  the  Turkish  soldiery  compelled  him  to  deprive  his 
two  brothers,  Motazz  and  Mowayyad,  who  ■srere  not  agree- 
able to  thsm,  of  their  rights  of  succession.     Montasir  did 

not  long  enjoy  the  fruits  of  his   crime.     He  died  five 
months  after,  by  poison,  it  is  said. 

12.  The  'Turki^  soldiery,  which  now  arrogated  to  itself  Kotti'itv 
the  mastery  over  the  CaUphate,  chose  in  suqpession  to 
Montasir  his  cousin  Ahmed,  who  took  the  iitle  of  Mostafn 


'  That  i\  "  City  of  Ja'fkr."    Ja'far  was  Motavakka'a  own  proper 
taa. 

XVL  — 74 


686 


MOHAMMEDANISM 


['abbasids. 


•oillih  (He  who  looks  for  help  to  God).  Under  the  reign 
of  this  feeble  prince,  the  Greeks  inflicted  Berioua  losses  on 
the  Moslems  in  Asia  Minor.  The  Turkish  soldiery,  instead 
of  attempting  to  repair  these  losses,  revolted  against  the 
Caliph  whom  they  had  themselves  chosen,  and  plundered 
the  city  of  Sorra-man-ra'a.  Taldng  advantage  of  these 
disorders,  a  descendant  of  'AK,  named  Hasan,  gained  pos- 
session of  Tabaristin  and  JorjAn,  and  permanently  deprived 
the  Eastern  Caliphate  of  those  provinces.  At  the  same 
time,  insurrections  sprang  up  in  every  part  of  tlie  empire. 
Next,  the  chiefs  of  the  Turkish  soldiery,  in  their  mutual 
jealousies,  began  to  tear  each  other  to  pieces.  The  infatu- 
ated Caliph  fled  from  Sorra-man-ra'a,  and  took  refuge  at 
Baghdad.  The  Turks  now  resolved  on  his  destruction, 
and  forgetting  that  they  themselves  had  deprived  Mo'tazz 
bilUh,  brother  of  Montasir,  of  his  legitimate  rights,  chose 
him  as  their  Caliph.  They  next  placed  at  their  head  a 
brother  of  Mo'tazz,  named  Mowaffalf  billAh,  and  besieged 
Mosta'in  at  Baghdid.  At  the  end  of  one  month  (a.h. 
252,  A.D.  866),  Mosta'in  surrendered,  and  was  put  to 
death.- 

Mo'tazz.  13.  Mo'tazz  billAh,  thus  called  to  the  throne  by  the  very 
men  who  had  previously  sought  to  exclude  him  from  it, 
resolved  to  free  himself  from  the  yoke  of  the  formidable 
Turkish  soldiery  which  thus  made  and  unmade  Caliphs. 
But  to  maintain  a  struggle  against  such  terrible  adversaries, 
the  new  sovereign  would  have  needed  an  ability  and  energy 
which  he  did  not  possess.  He  made,  indeed,  a  very 
impolitic  beginning  in  getting  rid  of  his  brothers  Moway- 
yad  ^nd  Mowaffalf,  of  whom  he  put  the  former  to  death, 
and  drove  the  latter  into  exile.  Some  time  after,  it  is 
true,  he  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  Wasif,  one  of  the 
chiefs  of  the  Turkish  soldiery,  lose  his  life  in  a  mutiny  of 
■his  own  troops ;  and,  that  of  defeating  in  person  another 
chief,  Bugha,  whom  he  afterwards  caused  to  be  beheaded. 
But  in  the  following  year  (a.h.  254),  the  Turks  chose  as 
Itheir  leaders  the  sons  of  Waslf  and  Bugha,  Silih  and 
Mohammed,  who  avenged  their  fathers  by  plundering  the 
palace  of  the  prime  minister  and  besieging  that  of  the 
Caliph,  whom  they  seized  and  threw  into  close  confine- 
ment, where  he  died  of  hunger  and  thirst,  A.H.  205. 

Moht.i.'.i.  14.  Immediately  after  the  fall  of  Mo'tazz,  the  Turks 
bi'ought  from  Baghdild  one  of  the  sons  of  Withik  billAh, 
and  proclaimed  him  Caliph,  with  the  title  of  Mohtadi  billAh 
(Guided  by  God).  Mohtadi,  a  man  of  noble  and  generous 
spirit,  exerted  himself,  but  in  vain,  to  release  his  prede- 
;essor  from  prison.  Having  failed  in  this,  he  kept  the 
precarious  measure  of  power  which  his  masters  left 
him,  and  applied  it  to  the  regeneration  of  Moslem 
society,  the  decay  of  wliich  appeared  to  him  imminent. 
He  forbade  wine  and  games  of  chance ;  he  devoted 
himself  to  the  administration  of  justice ;  he  examined  in 
person  every  sentenco  passed  by  the  judges,  and  gave 
public  audience  to  the  people  twice  a,  week  for  the  redress 
jOf  their  grievances.  The  farmers  of  the  revenue  were 
isubjected  to  strict  control,  and  the  taxes  were  considerably 
lighterjcd.  It  seeuicd  as  if  these  reforms  were  likely  to 
rc-eslablish  order  and  prosperity  in  the  empire.  But 
Mohtadi  came  too  .ate,  and  the  Turks  did  not  leavp  him 
time  to  finish  his  work.  ?i!ih,  one  of  the  chiefs  of  the 
Turlcish  soldiery,  having  been  assassinated  by  a  rival, 
!Mohtadi  punished  the  guilty  person  'with  rigour.  Tho 
Turks,  in  their  rage,  beset  tho  palsce  and  slaughtered  the 
unfortunate  Caliph  (a.ii.  256,  a.d.  870). 

Ht-\^-  15.  Whether  from  weariness,  or  from  repentance,  the 

"''''•  Turkish  soldiery  discontinued  for  a  time  their  hatefiJ 
excesses.  A  son  of  Motawakki!  \vo,ii  brought  out  of  prison 
to  succeed  his  cousin,  and  reigned  'or  twenty-two  years 
under  the  name  of  Mo'lamid  'ala  'llMi  (He  whose  support 
is  God).     During  hi?  reij-n  two  great  events  took  place, 


tokens  ana  precursors  of  the  dissolution  of  the  Caliphatej 
Eastern  Persia  and  Egypt  separated  themselves  by  force 
from  the  empire,  and  two  uew  dynasties  established 
themselves  in  these  countries,  those  respectively  of  the 
Safl'irids  and  the  Tuliinids.  The  founder  of  the  former,' 
Ya'lfiib  b.  Laith,  was  the  son  of  a  coppersmith  (§a!i;Vr). 
At  the  head  of  a  band  of  resolutem'en,  he  invaded  succes.s- 
ively  Khorisin,  Kirmdn,  and  Sijistin,  and  at  last  the  Caliph 
Mo'tamid,  powerless  to  arrest  his  progress,  was  obliged  to 
give  an  official  recognition  to  accomplished  facts.  But 
Ya'kiib  was  not  satisfied  vrith  this ;  he  soon  possessed 
himself  of  Tabaristin,  FdrsistAn,  and  Ahwiz,  and  thence 
marched  against  BaghdAd.  Fortiine,  however,  deserted 
him ;  he  was  beaten  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Wisit  (a.h. 
262),  and  compelled  to  return  to  Persia  in  order  to  levi-  a 
new  army  there.  In  2G5  he  resumed  his  march  against 
Baghdid,  but  was  obliged  by  sickness  to  halt  at  Jondis- 
dbiir,  where  he  died ;  not,  however,  till  he  had  obtaij^ed 
from  the  Caliph  a  formal  investiture  of  all  the  provinces 
he  had  conquered.  He  was  succeeded  by  his  brother 
"Amr.  On  the  other  side,  a  certain  Ahmed  b.  Tnliin,  the 
son  of  a  freedraan,  who  had  obtained  from  the  Caliph  the 
post  of  governor  of  Egypt,  planned  the  creation  for  himself 
of  an  independent  kingdom.  Under  Mo'tamid  he  even 
invaded  SjTia,  and  perhaps  would  have  pushed  his  con- 
quests still  farther,  had  not  death  overtaken  him  in  A.H. 
270  (a.d.  883-884).  His  son  Khomarilya  succeeded  him 
in  Egypt,  and  though,  at  a  later  period,  he  submitted  to 
pay  tribute  to  Mo'tadid,  nevertheless  a  dynasty  had  been 
founded  in  that  country  which  lasted  for  twenty-one  years 
longer.    Mo'tamid  died  eight  years  after  Ahmed  b.  Tiiluu. 

16.  The  reign  of  Mo'tadid  bilUh  (He  who  seeks  his  Mots- 
support  in  God),  who  succeeded  his  uncle  Mo'tamid.  is'?i^ 
principally  remarkable  for  the  rise  of  the  celebrated  feet 

of  the  Carmathians  (KarAmita),  who  for  two  centuries  kid 
waste  the  Moslem  empire,  and  for  the  extinction  of  the 
SafTArid  dynasty  in  Persia,  where  it  was  replaced  by  that 
of  the  SAmAnids.  Some  details  respecting  the  origin  and 
the  creed  of  tho  Carmathians  will  be  found  in  the  third 
section  of  this  article.  We  shall  content  ourselves  here  with 
stating  the  fact  that  these  sectaries,  who  were  numerous 
in  'IrAk,  Syria,  and  Eastern  Arabia,  kept  in  check  all  the 
annies  which  were  sent  against  them.  Under  the  reign  of 
Jlo'tadid  they  invaded  Mecca  and  committed  great  ravages 
there.  In  A.n.  281,  Mo'tadid  repaired  the  disasters  which 
they  had  caused  there,  and  raised  important  works  about 
tho  Ka'ha.  Mo'tadid  died  in  289  (a.d.  902),  leaving 
the  throne  to  his  son  Moktafi  billAh. 

17.  Moktafi  billAh  (He  who  sufficeth  himself  in  God)  Kcltifi 
reigned  for  six  years,  during  which  he  had  constantly  to 
struggle  against  the  Carmathians.      One  of  his  generals, 
indeed,  gained  a  signal  victory  over  these  sectaries  ;  but,  to 
avenge  their  defeat,  they  lay  in  wait  for  a  caravan  which 

was  on  its  return  from  Jlecca,  and  massacred,  twenty 
thousand  pilgrims.  This  horrible  crime  raised  the  whole 
of  Arabia  against  them.  The  Carmathians  were  beaten 
again,  and  Dhikri'iya,  one  of  their  ablest  generals,  was 
tal.  -n  and  put  to  death.  The  sectaries  remained  quiet  for 
sc  .le  time,  and  tho  Caliph  took  advantage  of  this  respite 
to  take  Egj'pt  from  tho  house  of  "TMliin,  and  to  confer  its 
government  on  tho  Ikhshldites.  Moktafi  died  A,a.  295 
(a.d.  907-908).  His  activity  and  energy  revived  for  a 
moment  the  prestige  of  the  Caliphate;  but  this  fleeting 
renev/al  of  its  greatness  was  soon  to  disappear,  and  decay 
resumed  its  course. 

18.  The  new  Caliph,  Moktadir  billAh  (Powerful  through  Holtt»- 
God),  was  only  thirleen  years  of  ago  when  he  ascended  ^■^^ 
the  throne.     His  extreme  youth  prejudiced  tho  people  of 
BaghdAd  against  him  :  they  rebelled,  r.nd  r.v;ore  ailcgiance 

to  'AbdallAh,  son  of  the  forme;'  Colinh  Uo'iaiz ;  but  the 


"ABBA'SICS.J 


MOHAMMEDANISM 


587 


"ITie  7k 


Toe  hs 

Bids. 
Efflrr, 


party  of  Molftadir  prevailed,  and  bia  rival  was  put  to 
death.  Molftadir,  however,  was  too  young  to  exercise 
any  real  power ;  he  was  governed  by  his  eunuchs.  He  was, 
besides,  a  man  of  feeble  character,  and  looked  on  help- 
lessly at  the  death-struggle  of  the  empire,  upon  which 
calamities  of  every  kind  now  poured  in.  The  Greeks 
invaded  Mesopotamia.  A  truce  was  concluded  with  them; 
but  the  Carmathians  then  recommenced  their  disorders  in 
Syria.  The  indolence  of  the  Caliph,  and  lus  inaction  in 
the  face  of  this  danger,  alienated  all  hearts  from  him ;  and 
the  eunuch  Miinis,  the  principal  chief  of  his  party,  took 
the  lead  in  deposing  him  and  proclaiming  in  his  stead  his 
brother  KAhir  biMh  (Victorious  through  God),  in  the 
year  317  (a.d.  929-930).  ?ihir,  however,  having  refused 
to  distribute  a  donative  to  the  army  on  the  occasion  of  his 
accession,  a  counter-revolution  took  place,  and  Moktadir, 
who  had  been  imprisoned,  was  taken  from  his  dungeon 
and  replaced  on  the  throne,  only  three  days  after  his  de- 
position. Favoured  by  these  distvu-bances,  the  governor  of 
Mosul,  Nisir  al-DaulS,  declared  himself  independent,  and 
founded  definitively  the  djmasty  of  the  Hamdinites ;  thus 
causing  an  additional  dismemberment  of  the  empire.  The 
Carmathians,in  their  turn,  under  the  guidance  of  a  new  chief, 
Abii  T^hir,  obtained  possession  of  Mecca,  and  carried  off 
the  celebrated  black  stone  of  the  Ka'ba,  which  they  did  not 
restore  till  very  long  afterwards.  Meanwhile  the  eunuch 
Miinis  had  been  disgraced.  He  withdrew  at  first  to  Mosul, 
to  the  court  of  Niisir  al-Daula ;  but  it  was  to  raise  an 
army  and  march  upon  Baghdid,  where  the  Caliph  had 
again  fixed  his  abode.  The  object  of  Miiuis  was  not  to 
attack  the  Caliph,  but  only  to  take  vengeance  on  his 
personal  enemies.  Molftadir  was  induced  by  evil  coun- 
sellors to  make  a  sally  against  Mi5.ms.  His  troops  were 
put  to  the  rout,  and  he  himself  fell  on  the  field  of  battle, 
'n  the  year  320  (a.d.  932). 

With  the  reign  of  Molftadir  is  connected  one  of  the 
greatest  events  in  the  history  of  the  Caliphate,  the  founda- 
tion of  the  F4timite  dynasty,  which  reigned,  first  in  the 
Maghrib  and  then  in  Egypt,  for  nearly  three  centuries. 
The  first  of  this  family  who  put  forward  any  pretensions 
to  the  Caliphate  was  'Obaid  Allih,  aumamed  the  Mahdl,  or 
Messiah  of  the  followers  of  'AU,  who  gave  himself  Out  as 
a  direct  descendant  of  'All,  through  his  wife  Fitima,  the 
daughter  of  Mohammed,  vfhence  the  name  of  Fitinfdte.  It 
seems  to  be  proved  that  'Obaid  AHAh  was  really  descended 
from  a  certain  'Abdallih  b.  Maimun  el-Kaddih,  the 
founder  of  the  Ismailiar.  sect,  of  which  the  Carmathians 
were  only  a  branch.  This  "Obaid  AllAh  had  himself 
become  pontiff  of  the  Ismailians.  As  early  as  the  Caliphate 
of  Moktaff,  one  of  'Obaid  Allih's  missionaries,  named 
Ab\i  'Abdallih,  had  succeeded  in  gaining  numerous  parti- 
sans in  the  province  of  Africa,  then  subject  to  the 
Aghlabites,  and  the  victories  of  this  missionary  had 
wrested  Eastern  Africa  from  the  family  of  AgUab  when 
Moktadir  ascended  the  throne.  'Obaid  AllAh  then 
repaired  to  his  new  realm  (a.H.  303),  and  founded  the 
city  of  Mahdfya,  which  he  made  his  capital.  He  tried 
also,  but  without  success,  to  seize  Egypt ;  the  conquest  of 
that  country  was  reserved  for  one  of  his  successors,  Mo'izz 
U-dinillih.  "Obaid  All&h  died  two  years  after  Moktadir, 
leaving  to  his  son  K&im  an  empire  already  sufficiently 
powerful  to  cause  uneasiness  to  the  "Abbisids,  to  the 
Omayyads  of  Spain,  and  to  all  the  Christian  princes 
whose  states  bordered  on  the  Mediten-anean. 

19.  KAhir  bUlih,  on  being  raised  anew  to  the  throne 
after  the  death  of  his  brother  Molftadir,  still  bore  ill-wiU 
to  his  patrons,  and  tried  to  free  himself  from  their 
guardianship.  The  emirs  of  his  court  dethroned  him  a 
second  time  and  put  out  his  eyes.  One  of  hie  nephews 
was  then  proclaimed  Caliph  \inder  the  name  of  RAdJ 


bill4h  (Content  through  God).  This  prince,  who  was 
entirely  governed  by  those  about  his  person,  created, 
in  favour  of  a  certain  Abiibekr  Mohammed  b.  RAik,  the 
office  of  Amir  al-0mar4,  or  F.mir  of  the  Emirs,  which 
nearly  corresponds  to  that  of  Mayor  of  the  Palace  among 
the  Franks.!  fhe  Amir  al-Omard  was  charged  with  the 
administration  of  civil  and  military  affairs.  He  also  acted 
as  the  Caliph's  deputy  in  sacerdotal  functions,  and  was 
named  next  after  him  in  the  public  prayers.  Thenceforth 
the  Caliphate  was  no  longer  at.ything  but  an  empty 
shadow.  During  the  reigns  of  KAhir  and-EAdI,  the  Car- 
mathians became  more  audacious  than  ever.  The  Am(r 
al-0mar4  was  obliged  to  purchase  from  them  the  freedom  of 
pilgrimage  to  Mecca  at  the  price  of  a  disgraceful  treaty. 
Thus  the  Caliphate  found  itself  almost  reduced  to  the  pro- 
vince of  BaghdAd.  KhorisAn,  Transoxiana,  Kirmi^n,  and 
Persia  were  in  the  hands  of  independent  sovereigns,  the  &i^ 
minids,  the  Biiyids,  and  a  prince  named  Washimgir.  The 
Hamdinites possessed  Mesopotamia;  the SAjites,  Armenia; 
Egypt  was  under  the  rule  of  the  Ikhshidites  ;  Arabia  was 
held  by  the  Carmathians ;  Africa,  as  we  have  seen,  had 
become  the  prey  of  the  FAtimites.  The  single  transient 
success  obtained  by  ^&di  was  the  capture  of  Mosul  in  a.h. 
328  (a.d.  939-40) ;  and  even  this  success  he  owed  to  the 
Turk  Bejkem,  who  had  succeeded  Mohammed  b.  B&ik  as 
Amir  al-OmarA. 

Ridl  died  in  fte  following  year,  and  was  succeeded  by  Mottakl 
Motta^:!  lillih  (He  who  fears  God).  From  his  very 
accession,  this  prince  saw  himself  exposed  to  the  attacks 
of  a  certain  Al-Baridl,  who  had  carved  out  for  himself  a 
principality  in  Chaldsea,  and  who  now  laid  siege  to  Baghdid. 
Nisir  al-Daula,  prince  of  Mosul,  who  had  been  reinstated  in 
his  government,  offered  an  asylimi  to  Mottakl;  put  his 
troops  at  his  disposal,  and  succeeded  in  repelling  Al- 
Baridl.  In  return  he  obtained  the  office  of  Amir  al-OmarA. 
But  there  were  other  competitors  for  that  post.  Tur;in, 
a  former  lieutenant  of  Bejkem,  protested  sword  in  hand 
against  the  choice  of  the  Caliph,  and  threatened  Bagh- 
dAd. Ikhshid,  sovereign  of  Egypt,  offered  Mottakl  a 
refuge  in  his  states ;  but  Turun,  fearing  to  see  the  Caliph 
obtain  such  powerful  support,  found  means  to  entice 
him  to  his  tent,  and  had  his  eyes  put  out,  a.h.  333 
(a.d.  944-945). 

As  successor  to  Mottakl,  Turuij  chose  Mostakfl  billih  (He  llotX'Mfi. 
who  places  his  whole  trust  in  God).  This  prince,  like  his 
predecessors,  was  a  mere  puppet  in  the  hands  of  his  min- 
isters. A  new  Amir  al-OmarA,  Zlrak  b.  Shirzdd,  made 
himself  so  hateful  to  the  people  of  Baghddd  by  his  deeds 
of  violence  and  rapacity  that  they  besought  the  help  of 
the  Biiyids.  Ahmed,  the  third  prince  of  that  dynasty, 
entered  BaghdAd,  overthrew  Zlrak,  and  took  his  place 
under  the  title  of  Mo'izz  al-Daula.  Mostakfl  soon  had 
enough  of  this  new  master,  and  ventured  to  conspire 
against  him.  The  plot  was  discovered,  and  Mo'izz  al-Daula 
had  the  eyes  of  the  Caliph  put  out.  There  were  now  at 
BaghdAd  three  Caliphs  who  had  been  dethroned  and 
blinded — KAhir,  Mottalpt,  and  Mostakfl.  Mo'izz  al-Daula 
thought  for  a  moment  of  restoring  the  illusory  title  of 
Caliph  to  the  descendants  of  'AU.  He  feared,  however, 
lest  this  should  lead  to  the  recovery  by  the  Caliphs  of 
their  former  supremacy,  and  his  choice  feU  on  a  son  oi. 
Moktadir  under  the  name  of  Motl'  UUAh  (He  who  obeys  Moti". 
God).  Reserving  to  himself  all  the  powers  and  revenues 
of  the  Caliph,  he  allowed  Motl'  merely  a  secretary  and  a 
moderate  pension.  The  prince  of  Mosul,  wlio  began  to 
think  his  possessions  threatened  by  the  neighbourhood  of 
Mo'izz,  entered  on  a  struggle  with  him  and  tried  to  wrest 
BaghdAd  from  him;  but  he  failed,  and  was  obliged  to 


>  See  Defrdmery,  Uimoire  aur  la  Emirt  al-Omlra      Pari3.-«18^ 


588 


MOHAMMEDAN.  ISM 


['abbIsiss., 


submit  to  tho  payment  of  tribute.  We  have  said  above 
that  Mo'izz  al-Daula  professed  a  great  veneration  for  the 
house  of  'All.  His  preference  showed  itself  in  public  acts. 
He  caused  tho  most  terrible  imprecations  against  the 
Omayyads  to  b'e  posted  up  at  the  doors  of  tho  mosques. 
This  step  irritated  men's  minds ;  and  a  general  insurrec- 
tion was  imminent  at  Baghddd,  when  Mo'izz  died  (a.u. 
3.')6),  leaving  his  power  to  his  son  'Izz  al-Daula. 

^Vhil6  the  'Abbdsid  family  was  thus  dying  out  in  -shamo 
and  degradation,  the  FAtimites,  in  the  person  of  Mo'izz 
H-dfn-iU.lh,  were  reaching  the  highest  degree  of  power 
and  glory  (see  Egypt,  vol.  viL  p.  750  sqq.)  Jauhar,  a 
general  of  Jlo'izz  li-dln-Uliih,  conquered  Egypt  for  his 
master,  and  Arabia  acknowledged  tho  sovereignty  of  tho 
Fdtimites.:  The  Cannathiaiis,  who  had  so  long  contended 
against  t!;e  'Abbdsids,  nov/  came  to  better  terms  with 
Mote,  and  their  general  made  tho  Caliph  the  offer  of 
driving  back  the  Fdtimites,  on  condition  of  his  granting 
him  the  government  of' Egypt.  Motf  preferred  to  stand 
neutral  in  tho  struggle ;  and  tho  Carmathian  general,  who 
with  the  support  of  Motf  might  perhaps  have  triumphed 
over  Mo'izz,  was  beaten  by  his  powerful  rival  Moti', 
Laving '  been  struck,  by  paralysis,  was  obliged  to  abdicate 
in  the  year  363  (a.d.  973-974),  and  loft  the  empty  title 
Tii'.  cf  Caliph  to  his  soa  T^i'  liramr-illih  (Obedient  to  the 
coiiunr.nd  of  God).  Tho  new  Caliph  lived  at  &-st  in 
peace,  for  It  was  now  the  office  of  Amfr  al-Omard  which 
provoked  01-will.  'Under  the  reign  of  'JCii'  the  Biiyid 
princes  contended  furiously  with  one  another  for  the  office 
of  Emir,  and  one  of  them,  'Adod  al-Dan!a,  having  con- 
quered 'Izz  al-Daula,  took  tho  title,  never  before  employed, 
of  Sh.^hinshAh,  or  king  of  Jdngs.  ^On  his  death  ho  trans- 
mitted his  office  to  his  threo  sons,  who  held  it  successively, 
under  the  names  of  Shams  al-Daula,  Sharaf  al-Daula,  and 
Bahd  al-Daula.  The  last,  "who  was  as  avaricious  aa  he 
was  ambitious,  took  oITence  at  tho  Caliph  T4i'  for  having 
dispo.>;ed  of  certain  sums  of  money,  of  which  he  wished 
to  reserve  tho  manaeement  to  himself,  compelled  him  to- 
abdicate  in  a.h.  381,  ana  replaced  him  by  a  grandson  of 
Molftadir,  who  took  tho  name  of  KAdir  billdh  (Powerful 
through  God),  and  reigned  forty  one  years  under  the 
tutelage  of  the  Biiyids.  '  Meanwhile  events  were  pre- 
paring the  fall  of  the  Biiyids.  In  Persia,  Mahmiid  of 
iGhazni  was  founding  the  powerful  empire  of  tho  Ghaz- 
'ncvidsj^  which  extended  to  the  Indus,  and  the  Seljilk 
Turks. were  already  invading  Khorisdn.  It  was  under 
tho  successor  of  KAdir  billih  that  that  sanguinary  revolu- 
tion took  place,  which  was  to  give  over  the  government 
of  Baghdad  to  tho  SeljulfS. 
Kiia.  lyiuir   billih  died   in   jtli.-.  422    (a.d.    1030-31),   and 

■was  succeeded  by  Kaim  bi-amr-Lllih  (He  who  is  charged 
with  tho  business  of  God).  Tho  new  Caliph,  groaning 
under  the  iron  hand  of  his'  Amir  al-Omard,  called  to 
his  aid  the  Seljiilj:  Toghril  Beg,  who  entered  Baghddd 
in  the  jnonth  of  Ramadan  in  the  year  447  (a.d.  1055- 
1056),  overthrew  tho  Biiyids,  and  took  their  place.  Some 
years  later,  Toghril  married  the  daughter  of  the  Caliph. 
At  bis  death,  Toghril  left  to  his  nephew  AJp  ArslAa 
tho  .title  of  Sultan,  a  flourishing  empire,  and  unco' 
trolled  pd'wer.  As  for  Kiim,  he  enjoyed  the  Caliphato 
in  peace  under  the  tutelage  of  Alp  ArsUn  and  of  Ids 
succcisor  Malifc  SbAli,  till  his  death  in  a.h.  467.  His 
•^■'iktucL'.  grandson,  Mpktadl  bi-anir-illAh  (He  who  obeys  the  orders 
of  God),  who  succeeded  him,  owed  to  the  power  of  Llalik 
Sh.'ih  the  honour  of  recovering  his  supremacy  in  Arabia. 
At  Medina  and  Mecca  his  name  was  substituted  in  the 
public  prayers  for  those  of  the  Fdtiniito  Caiiphs.  This 
was,  after  all,  a  mere  gratification  to  his  vanity,  for  Malilc 
ShAh  was  the  real  sovereign,  and  the  Caliph  thought 
himself  highly  honoured  in  marrying  , the  daughter  of  his 


powerful  patron.  This  union,  however,  far  from  drawing 
claser  the  bonds  of  friendship  between  Malik  Shih  and 
Molftadl,  became  on  the  contrary  a  cause  of  strife.  The. 
Caliph  having  put  away  his  wife,  who  had  wearied  him 
by  her  peevish  humours,  was  compelled  by  Malik,  Shih  to 
appoint  the  child  whom  he  had  had  by  her  as  his  successor, 
to  tho  prejudice  of  his  eldest  son.  MaUk  Shdh  also  exiled 
his  son-in-la,w.  to  Basra.'  Just,  however,  as  this  order  was 
about  to  be  carried  out,  Malik  ,  ShAh  died.  MoUtadl 
survived  him  only  a  few  months.  It  was  during  tie 
•  reign  of  his  successor  Mostazhir  billih'  (a.h.  487-512)  that  Most'^ 
the  first  crusade  took  place.  We  need  not  here  enter  ^  '''•'* 
into  tho  details  of  those  wars.  It  is  sufficient  to  say  thatS"!'"' 
from  the  date  of  the  first  crusade  Baghdad  ceases,  so  to 
speak,  to  have  any  special  hjstoiy.  The  successors  of 
Mostazhir  billih  (Ha  who  seeks  to  triumph  througli  God) 
were — Mostarshid  billih  (He  who  asks  guidance  from  God), 
A.H.  512-529  ;  KAshid  billih  (Just  through  God),  a.h.  529- 
530;  Mo^tafl  h-amr-illih  (He  who  follows  the. orders  of 
God),  A.H.  530-555 ;  Mostanjid  billih  (Ho  who  invokes 
help  from  God),  A.H.  555-566 ;  and  Mostadl'  bi-amr-UlAh 
(He  who  seeks  enlightenment  in  the  orders  cf  God),  a-H. 
566-575.  .  Under  this  last,  the  Fitimite  dynasty  v.-as  at 
length  destroyed,  and  Egypt  fell  again  under  the  spiritual 
authority  of  the  CaUpha  of  Baghdid.  It  was  one  of  the 
generals  of  the  Emir  Nilr  al-din,  the  celebrated  galdh  al- 
dln  (Saladin),  who  made  this  important  conquest  in  A.n. 
567  (a-D.  1171-1172).  Ho  maintaip-ed  himself  in  Egypt 
as  Sultan,  founded  a  new  dynasty,  that  of  the  AyyubiteSj' 
and  in  some  sort  compelled  Nisir  li-dln-ilUh  (Ho  who 
helps  the  religion  of  God),  the  successor  of  Mosl»ii'  (a.h. 
575-622),,  to  acknowledge  his  title  and  to  ratify  his 
usurpation; 

A  still  more  formidable  danper  was  now  threatening  T!i« 
Baghdid.  The  tenible  Jinghlz  Khin  was  issuing  from  Mongols 
the  depths  of  Asia  at  the  head  of  his  Mongols,  and  was 
beginning  to  invade  I'ransoxiana.  Under  Ndsir  li-dln- 
illih's  successors,  Zdhir  billdh  (Victorious  through  God), 
A.n.  622-623,  and  Mostansir  billdh  (He  who  asks  help 
from  God),  a.h.  623-640,  tho  Mongol  invasion  advanced 
with  immense  strides ;  and  when,  after  them,  Mosta'sim 
billdh  (Ho  who  seeks  his  defence  in  God)  was  named 
Caliph  in  tho  year  640  (a.d.  1242-1243),  the  last  days  of 
tho  Caliphato  bad  arrived.  Huligu;  Vv'ho  was  then  sove- 
reign of  the  Mongols,  determined  to  make  himself  master 
of  the  whole  of  Western  Asia.  .  He  placed  himself  at  tha 
head  of  his  immense  hordes,  swept  everything  ucfore  hira 
on  his  march,  and  arrived  under  the  walls  of  Baglid.dd. 
In  vain  didi- Mo.sta'sim  sue  for  peace.  The  siege  was 
actively  piusued,  and  on  the  29th  of  Moharram  6S(»  (0th 
February  1258),  tho  Mongols  forced  their  way  into 
Baghd/id  and  planted  the  standard  of  HuIiVgu  on  tlio 
highest  of  its  towers.  Tho  city  was  given  up  to  fire  and 
slaughter ;  Mosla'.sim  was  thrown  into  prison,  and  died 
there  a  few  days  after ;  and  with  him  expired  the  Eastern 
Caliphate,  wh;.ch  had  .lo-sted  C26  years,  from  the  deaUi  of 
Mohammed. 

In  vain,  three  years  later,  did  a  scion  of  the  race  of  tha 
Abbasids,  who  had  taken  refuge  in  Egj-jjt,  make  an  effort 
to  V  ■'■ore  ti,  dynasty  which  ■was  now  for  ever  extinct.  At 
the  h'ead  of  a  few  followers,  be  marched  against  Baghdid, 
but  was  repulsed  by  tho  governor  of  that  city,  and  died 
fighting.  At  a  later  period,  another  descendant  of  the 
'Abbdsids  also  sought  an  asylum  in  Egypt.  Tho  Sultan 
Baibai's,  after  a  judicial  investigation  of  his  origin,  pro- 
claimed him  Caliph  under  the  name  of  Hikim  bi-amr-illihv 
His  sons  inherited  this  empty  title,  but,  like  their  father, 
remained  iu  Egypt,  ■without  power  or  influence.  This 
shadow  of  sovereignty  continued  to  exist  till  the  conquest 
of  Jigypt  by  the  Turka 


ursnruTioKi!.  ] 


MOHAMMEDANISM 


589 


GiMZ&LooicxL  Tabu  of  tbb  'AsbXsid  Califbi  vovm  to  tbb 

Fau,  or  Baobsas. 

'AbUU. 

■AbdalUh.' 


•Ak 


Ibiiugi.        L  Abd  'l-'Abb^        2.  Uanair. 

•     8.  HthiU. 
_J 


4.  H4di. 


B.  HanSn  al-Rashid. 


6.  Amin.        7.  Ua'miis.  8.  Mo  tasiin. 

Mohammect        9.  WatUk.        10.  MotawakkiL 

I  I        °  I 

12.  Mosta'in.      U.  Mohtadi. 


UowafUc.        11.  Montasir.        15.  Mo'tamid.        13.  Motazz. 


6.  M< 


.o'tsdid. 


18;  Moktadir. 

r 


17.  MoktaC 

I 
■22.  Mostakfi. 


Ishdk.       2S.  Hotf.        21.  MottaJd. 


25.  Kadir. 

26.  Kiim. 


M.  Tii'. 


rw 


Moluunxned  Dhakliirat  ol.Din*  ^ 

27.  MoktadL 

r 

28.  Mostafhir. 


«L  Uoktafi.  2«.  Mostanhid.! 

ii.  Moetasjid.      30.  Ziahii. 

33.  Mostadi'. 

31.  IT&sir. 

36.  Z&hir. 
I 

36.  Uoataiuir. 

37.  UoiU'nm. 


SicT.  TTT, — Sketch  op  the  iMSTiTUiioRa  akd  CmuzA- 

TION    OF   THS   EaSTEKN   CaLIPHATE. 

Mohammed  had  begnn  to  bestowpolitical  unity  on  Arabia; 
bat  he  had  done  still  more  :  he  had  given  her  the  Koran, 
as  the  starting-point  and  base  of  the  futnre  civilization  ef 
Islam.  It  was  for  the  preservation  and  the  better  under- 
standing of  the  sacred  text  that  the  first  believers  were 
led  to  create  grammar  and  lexicography,  and  to  make  col- 
lections of  the  poems  of  their  own  and  former  times,  those 
"  witnesses  of  the  meaning  of  words,"  as  the  Arabs  call 
them.  To  elucidate  questions  of  dogma  they  created 
theology.  Jurisprudence,  in  like  manner,  issued  from  the 
Koran,  and  the  historical  sciences  at  first  gathered  around 
it.;  is  early  as  the  first  century  of  the  Flight,  schools 
w«e  founded  in  Tri^:,  at  Basra  and  at  Cufa,  in  which  all 
the  "questions  to  which  the  study  of  the  Koran  gave  rise 
v^re  stated,  and  answered  in  different  ways.  Natural 
scknco  and  mathematics  were  less  directly  concerned  with 
the  sacred  book,  and  were  consequently  neglected  during 
the  whole  period  of  the  Omayyad  dynasty.  They  only 
l>egan  to  be  cultivated  when,  under  the  .'Abbfisids,  the 


study  of  philosophy  led  to  the  nse  of  translaticns  from  the. 
Greek.  The  institutions  of  Islam  were  developed,  no 
doubt,  ea  new  wants  made  themselves  felt,  in  proportion 
to  the  extension  of  the  empire  ;  but  they  were  nevertheless 
founded  on  the  Urst  arrangements  made  by  the  Prophet, 
and  handed  down  by  him  in  the  Koran. 

Under  the  first  four  Caliphs  these  institutions  continued  Political 
in  a  rudimentary  state.  The  Caliph  {Khcdifcu,  substitute.^* 
or  successor)  was  elected  by  the  Moslem  community ;  i^jjiio. 
and,  after  receiving  from  all  its  members  the  oath  of  tions. 
fidelity  {BaCa)  which  they  were  bound  to  take,  united  the 
temporal  and  spiritual  powers  in  his  own  hands.  He  T.as 
at  the  same  time  high  priest,  ruler,  .and  judge.  He  was 
compelled,  however,  by  the  very  extent  of  tie  empire  to  . 
delegate  his  powers  to  those  agents  (^Amil,  plural  'Ommdl) 
whom  he  commissioned  to  represent  him  in  the  provinces. 
The  State  revenues,  which  entered  the  public  treasury 
{JBaii  al-mdi),  were  composed — (1)  of  the  tithe,  or  tax  for 
the  poor  {Zakdt),  which  every  Moslem  was  bound  to  pay ; 
(2)  of  the  fifth,  raised  on  all  booty  taken  in  war,  the  rest 
being  divided  among  the  warriors  ;  (3)  of  the  poll-tax 
{Jizya)  and  the  land-tax  {Khardj),  which  only  affected  non- 
Moslem  subjects.  The  Caliph  administered  the  revenues 
of  the  State  at  his  own  pleasure,  applying  them  to  the  neces- 
sities of  war,  to  public  works,  to  the  payment  of  officials, 
to  the  support  of  the  poor,  and  to  the  distribution  of  the 
annual  pensions,  in  which  every  Moslem  had  originally 
a  right  to  share.  The  State  could  possess  landed  property. 
Under  "Omar  I.  we  find  that  the  pasture  land  belonging 
to  the  State  supported  not  less  than  forty  thousand  camels 
and  horses.  To  'Omar  L  was  due  the  regulation  of  the, 
poU-tai  by  a  fixed  scale.  The  rich,  whether  Christians  or 
Jews,  paid  four  dindrs  (about  thirty-two  shillings)  yearly ; 
people  of  the  middle  class,  two  dinirs ;  the  poor,  one 
dlnir.  Besides  this  payment  in  money,  the  subject-racea 
had  to  make  contributions  in  kind,  intended  for  the 
support  of  the  troops.  The  land-tax  consisted  of  a  general 
rent  in  proportion  to  the  extent,  character,  and  fertility  of 
the  lands  possessed  by  the  conquered. 

As  the  simis  produced  by  these  different  imposts  were  Tt  -. 
often  very  considerable,  it  became  necessary,  as  early  as  Cfv.io,' 
the  Caliphate  of  'Omar  L,  to  create  a  special  office, 
charged  with  the  accounts  of  their  expfcnditure.  Its 
organization  was  borrowed  by  'Omar  from  the  Persians, 
and  it  retained  its  Persian  name  of  Diw&n,  a  term  after- 
wards applied  to  all  government  offices.  The  Arabs  at 
that  time  being  torf  illiterate  for  such  employment,  the 
task  of  keeping  the  registers  of  the  Dlw4n  was  entrusted 
to  Greeks,  Copts,  and  Persians.  'Omar  also  gave  his 
attention  to  the  apportionment  of  the  individual  pensions 
of  the  Faithful  Every  one  received  a  larger  or  smaller 
sum  according  to  the  greater  or  less  nearness  of  his  con- 
nexion with  the  family,  or  the  tribe,  of  the  Prophet. 
Thus  'Aisha,  who  had  been  the  favourite  wife  of 
Mohammed,  received  a  yearly  pension  of  twelve  thousand 
dirhems ; '  the  other  widows  of  the  Prophet  only  received 
ten  thousand.  The  Hdshimites  and  Mottalibites,  that  is, 
the  members  of  the  Prophet's  family,  also  received  ten 
thousand  dirhems.  The  Emigrants  and  the  Defenders,  or 
those  citizens  of  Mecca  and  Medina  who  had  been  the 
first  to  embrace  Islam,  had  fi^e  thousand  dirhems;  and 
that  was  the  sum  which  "Omar  L  allotted  to  himself.' 
For  every  other  Moslem  of  fvdl  age,  the  pension  varied 
from  4000  to  300  dirhems.  We  can  easily  understand 
what  an  influence  the  hope  of  this  pension  must  have 
exerted  on  the  conquered  races,  and  how  much  it  m\ist 


'  Tlie  dirbem  was  equivalent  to  one  franc. 

'  His  moderation  was  not  imitated  ty  bis  soocessor  O^min,  wBB 
made  it  bis  principid  object  to  enrich  _^1  the  iiiember^or.hu  Ojta 
family  at  tbe  expense  of  tno  rest  p(,tbA.lIosleiii*, 


590 


M  0  H  A  M  M  E  D  A  P^W  S  M 


[ixsTiinnoKS 


JlUitary 
itistitu- 

tiOQ!' 


■Ccromc- 


Hercdi 
tory  ^u 


have  contributed  to  their  conversion.  On  accepting  Islam 
they  acquired  a  right  to  tho  pension,  besides  ceasing  to  pay 
the  land-til  s  and  the  poll-ta 

Even  in  the  earliest  days  of  Islam  the  Arabs  were  not 
entirely  devoid  of  military  skill.  Many  of  their  tribes 
had  been  brought  into  relations  with  the  Greeks  and 
Persians,  and  had  acquired  from  them  some  ideas  of  tho 
art  of  war.  ThuSj  in  the  time  of  Mohammad,  the  division 
of  an  army  into  a  centre,  right  and  left  wings,  vanguard 
and  rearguard,  was  understood,  and  the  art  of  defend- 
ing a  camp  or  a  city  by  entrenchments  was  also  known. 
The  Arabs  fought  on  foot,  on  horseback,  and  moimted 
on  camoh.  The  arms  of  the-  infantry  con.=isted  of  a 
spear,  a  sword,  and  a  shield,  and  sometimes  also  of 
a  bow  and  arrows.  The  horsemen  fought  chiefly  with 
tho  lance.  For  ■  defensive  arms,  besides  the  shield,  the 
Arabs  were  acquainted  with  the  'helmet,  the  coat  of  mail, 
and  the  cuirass  of  leather  covered  with  plates  of  iron. 
It  was  not  till  the  period  of  the  Omayyads  that  they 
began  to  employ  military  engines,  such  as  the  balista. 
The  array  was  divided  by  tribes;  and  each  tribe  had  its 
flag,  wiiich  consisted  of  a  piece  of  cloth  fastened  to  a 
lance.  As  regards  the  recruitment  of  their  armies,  every 
man  able  to  carry  arms  was  originally  bound  to  render 
military  service.  'Omar  I.,  to  whom  Islam  owes  so 
many  of  its  institutions,  was  the  first  to  divide  his 
armies  into  distinct  corps,  and  to  assign  to  each  corps  a 
fi.?ed  station.  Thcce  stations  were  the  province  of  Cufa, 
that  of  Basra,  and  afterwards  the  provinces  of  Emesa,  of 
the  Jordan,  and  of  Palestine.  These  provinces  afterwards 
became  military  colonies,  all  the  inhabitants  of  which  were 
bound  to  render  military  service,  as  distinguished  from 
tho  other  provinces,  where  service  was  optional,  or  at  all 
events  regulated  by  the  necessities  of  the  moment. 

With  the  accession  of  Mo'iwiya  I.  to  the  supremo  power, 
the  mechanism  of  the  State  was  modified  and  became  more 
eoaplipated.  SIo'Awiya  endeavoured  to  copy  the  cere- 
monial of  foreign  courts.  He  built  himself  a  palace  at 
Damascus,  and  set  up  a  throne  in  the  audience-chamber, 
the  door  of  which  was  kept  by  a  chamberlain  {H^(jib). 
V/hen  he  attended  tho  service  at  the  mosque,  he  occupied 
a  close  pew  with  a  grating  in  front  {Makmra).  When 
ho  left  his  palace,  he  was  surrounded  by  a  bodyguard 
(Shorta),  commanded  by  a  provost  {Sdhib  al-Shortu).  Lastly, 
iTi  his  0".ni  lifetime,  he  caused  his  son  Yazld  to  be  acknow- 
ledged as  his  heir-presumptive,  and  thus  estabUshcd  tho 
principle  of  hereditary  succession,  which  was  opposed  to 
the  spirit  of  Islam,  and  was  the  soiirce  of  every  kind  of 
calamity.  As  regards  the  administration  of  the  State, 
Mo'i'iwiya  acted  at  his  own  will  and  pleasure.  Thus,  in 
order  to  secure  tho  services  of  'Amr  b.  al-'As,  the  conqueror 
of  Egypt,  ha  gave  up  to  him  the  revenues  of  that  province, 
a  part  of  which  ought  to  have  gone  to  the  State.  He  alio 
to'ik  an  important  step  with  regard  to  the  annual  pensions 
of  the  Faithful,  which  he  reduced  by  about  two  and  a  half 
per  cent.  The  administration  of  the  public  funds  in  the 
diiTerent  provinces  v.'as  left  to  their  Prefects,  who  were 
c.tpected  to  pay  into  the  public  treasury  only  the  surplus 
of  their  respective  revenues.  The  empire  had  been  at  first 
divided  into  ten  provinces — 1.  Syria  (subdivided  into  four 
Joyid,  or  military  districts) ;  2.  Cufa,  ivith  Arabian  'IrAlj 
and  Persian  'Irilj;  3.  Easra,  with  Persia,  Sijistin,  Khorisin, 
Bahrain,  and  'Omin  ;  4.  Armenia  ;  5.  Mecca ;  C.  Medina  ; 
7.  The  Indian  Marches  ;  8.  Africa  ;  9.  Egypt ;  10.  Yemen. 
Mo'dwiya,  however,  subsequently  thought  proper  to  make 
IChorisAn  a  separata  province.  Under  his  successors,  and 
according  to  the  necessities  of  the  moment,  it  was  some- 
times reunited  to  the  government  of  'Irdk.  In  'Irdlf  itself, 
Mo'.^wiya  joined  Basra  and  its  dopend^encies  to  Cufa. 

Under  Mo'Aw;ya  the  Prefects  had  the  most  extensive 


civil  and  military  powers.  They  had  even  the  right  of  tht 
direct  appointment  of  their  Bub-Prefects.  Mo'awiya,  nob 
vnthstanding,  thought  it  advisable  to  disconnect  fron 
their  pnivers  tho  offices  of  Judge  (Kddi)  and  of  P.eligioa 
Oificial  {Im&ni),  which  were  entrusted  to  special  function- 
aries named  directly  by  the  Caliph.  The  Caliph  waa, 
however,  always  at  liberty  to  modify  these  arrangements  at 
his  own  pleasure.  Under  the  successors  of  Mo'dwiya,  wo 
find  certain  Prefects  invested  at  the  same  time  "With  the 
dignities  of  Cadi  and  Imdm. 

It  -n-as  also  to  Mo'dwiya  that  tlie  State  owed  the  creation  Caan 
of  a  Chancery  (Dlyvin  al-akhtdm,  or  Seals-ofiice),  in  which  cc.7. 
all  decrees  proceeding  from  the  Caliph  were  registered  ;  so 
that,  when  once  issued,  these  decrees  could  not  be  falsified 
Mo'dwiya  also  exerted  himself  to  ensure  rapidity  of  com-  Tosti. 
munication   throughout   the   empire,    by   instituting   the 
courier-post   (Sarid),    in   imitation    of   the   post   of    the 
Persians  and  Byzantines. 

After  Mo'dwiya  we  must  come  down  to  the  time  of 
'Abd  al-Melik  to  meet  with  any  important  innovations  in 
Moslem  institutions.  Before  the  reign  cf  that  Caliph 
the  books  of  the  public  offices  were  kept  by  Ciiistians 
and  Persians,  and  drawn  up  in  Greek  and  Persian.  'Abd 
al-Melik  ordered  the  exclusive  employment  cf  the  Arabic 
language,  and  substituted  Moslems  for  aU.  the  Christian 
and  Persian  clerks  in  the  government  offices.  It  was  this 
same  Caliph  who  founded  the  monetary  system  of  Islam,  Jloney 
and  who  was  the  first  to  strike  dindrs  (pieces  of  gold 
worth  about  ten  francs),  and  dirhcms  (pieces  of  silver 
worth  about  a  franc),  with  legends  in  Arabic.  The 
postal  .system  was  also  very  much  improved  and  developed 
under  this  prince.  'Abd  al-Melik  v.  as  powerfully  seconded 
by  the  famous  Ilajjdj,  who  was  able  to  re-establish  in 
'Irdk  the  disputed  principle  of  obligatory  military  service, 
and  who  also  succeeded,  by  skilful  management,  in  raising 
tho  condition  of  agriculture  in  that  province.  Walld,  the 
successor  of  'Abd  al-Melik,,  especiallj'  distinguished  himself 
by  the  foundation  of  religious  institutions.  In  his  reign  RcHgioa 
the  mosque  of  Damascus,  half  of  which  had  hitherto  f^'--»- 
remained  in  the  hands  of  the  Christians,  was  appropriated  '■"'''^ 
exclusively  to  the  Moslems,  and  considerably  embellished. 
Hospitals  were  also  established  for  lepers,  the  poor,  the 
blind,  and  the  sick.  The  pious  'Omar  H.  devoted  all  his 
efforts  to  the  embellishment  of  the  mosque  of  Damascus. 
An  edict  of  'Omar  I.  had  forbidden  Moslems  to  acquire 
landed  pro])erty,  agriculture  being  considered  an  occupa- 
tion unworthy  of  a  free  man.  This  law  had  fallen  into 
disuse ;  but  "Omar  H.  put  it  in  force  again,  and  declared 
null  and  void  every  purchase  of  land  made  ty  a  Moslem 
subsequently  to  a.h.  100.  The  effects  of  this  law  might 
havo  been  fatal  to  the  empire ;  but .  it  again  became 
obsolete  imder  tho  Caliphate  of  Hishdm. 

At  the  accession  of  the  'Abbdsids  the  centre  of  tho 'nstt'.-. 
empire  was  displaced.     Damascus  fell  from  the  ranlc  of|^°°'    , 
its  capital  to  that  of  a  provincial  town ;  while  Baghddd,  '^j,";""' 
a  spall  and  unknown  village,  became  the  mistress  of  tho  r,is. 
world.     Under  the  first  'Abbdsid  the  empire — not  includ- 
ing the  province  of  Baghddd — was  divided  as  follows  : — 
1.  The  province  of  Cufa  ;  2.  The  province  of  Basra,  with  the 
district  of  tho  Tigris,  Bahrain  and  'Omdn ;  3.  Hijdz  and 
Yamaraa;  4.  Yemen;  5.  Ahv.dz;  C.  F.drsistdn;  7.  IChordsdn; 
8.  Tho  province  of  Mosul ;  9.  Mesopotamia,  with  Armenia 
and  AzerbaijAn ;   10.  Syria;   11.  Egypt  and  tha  province 
of  Africa  (Spain  being  a  dependency  of  Africa) ;  1 2.  Bind. 
Al-Safi"d:.i  afterwards  made  Palestine  a  distinct  province, 
and  separated  Armenia  and  AzerbaijAn  from  Mesopotamia. 
Still  later,  Hdriin  al-Kashid  created  a  new  province  to  tho 
north  of  Syria,  which  received  the  name  of  'Awdsim.    Each 
newly-conquered  province  was  always  united  to  that  ono 
of  tho  older  provinces  to  which  it  was  nearest. 


SNSTITUTlOIfS.] 


MOHAMMEDANISM 


591 


Piime 

Minister, 


_A(Jmini3- 

trftti'e 

■aoTTtcej. 


drgani- 
Eation  of 
theStete. 


SUiph. 


Minis 
'ton. 


Simultaneously  with  the  accession  of  the  'Abbisids, 
Persian  iBfluence  began  to  preponderate.  The  Persian, 
Eh^lid  b.  Barmak,  was  entrusted  with  the  administration 
of  the  finances  (Diwdn  al-E/tardf)  by  As-Saffiih,  who  was 
.also  the  first  Caliph  who  transferred  the  burden  of  public 
affairs  from  himself  to  a  Prime  Minister  ( WaAr,  whence, 
in  European  languages,  the  term  Viiier).  The  title  of 
•Wazlr  was  unknown  to  the  Omayyads.  The  office  of 
Prime  Minister  was  of  Persian  origin.  It  existed  till  the 
time  of  the  Caliph  Kidl,  when  that  of  Amir  al-0mar4 
•was  substituted  for  it.  When  the  Caliphs  had  fallen 
under  the  tutelage  of  the  Biiyids,  it  was  the  latter  who 
chose  Viziers,  leaving  to  the  Caliphs  only  Secretaries 
{Rajfis  al-Ruwasd).  Under  the  Seljillj:  Sultans  the  Caliphs 
■were  again  permitted  to  choose  their  own  Viziers. 

The  institution  of  the  office  of  Vizier  was  not  the  feast 
among  the  causes  of  the  decadence  of  the  Eastern  Caliphate. 
The  'Abbisids  gradually  became  unaccustomed  to  the 
exercise  of  power  and  the  management  of  affairs,  and  thus 
lost  all  direct  influence  over-their  subjects.  Besides  the 
Minister  of  Finance  and  the  Vizier,  the  'Abbisids  created 
another  important  office,  that  of  Postmaster-General  {Sdh,ib 
alrBarii),  whose  duty  it  was  to  collect  at  a  central  office 
all  the  information  which  arrived,  from  the  provinces,  and 
to  transmit  it  to  the  Prime  Minister.  Thus  the  adminis- 
trative services  were  greatly  lartended  under  the  'AbbAsids. 
They  were  subdivided  as  follows: — 1.  Diwdn  dl-Khardj,  or 
Ministry  of  Finance;  2.  Diwdn  al-DiyS,  or  Bureau  of 
State  property;  3.  Diwdn  al-Zimdm,  Registry  Office  or 
Exchequer  Office  ;  4.  Diwdn  al-Jond,  or  Ministry  of  War ; 
5.  Nazar  al-Mazdlim,  or  Court  of  Appeal ;  6.  Diwdn  cU- 
Mawdli  wal-GhUmdn,  or  Bureau  of  the  freedmen  and  slaves 
of  the  Caliphs ;  7.  Diwdn  Zimdm  al-Nafakdt,  or  Office  of 
Expenditure ;  8.  Diwdn  aUBarid,  or  Office  of  the  Posts ; 
9.  Dividn  cd-RasdU,  or  Office  of  Correspondence;  10. 
Diwdn  al^Taukt,  or  Office  of  the  Imperial  Seal,  and  of  the 
registration  of  official  documents.  There  were  also  offices 
for  the  despatch  and  reception  of  official  dociunents,  and 
for  the  inspection  of  weights  and  measures. 

We  cannot  better  conclude  this  brief  stimmary  of  the 
institutions  of  the  Caliphate  than  by  giving  a  sketch  of 
the  organization  of  the  State,  according  to  the  Moslem 
authors  themselves. 

The  supreme  chief  received  the  title  of  Caliph,  or  of 
Commander  of  the  Faithful  (Amir  al-Mo'minin).  He 
united  in  his  own  person  all  the  powers  of  the  State  ;  his 
Ministers  and  all  public  functionaries  acted  only  by  virtue 
of  a  commission  from  him.  They,  like  all  other  Moslems, 
were  at  the  mercy  of  the  Caliph,  who  had  power  of  life 
and  death  over  them.  As  spiritual  chief,  the  Caliph  was 
also  the  supreme  judge  in  questions  of  dogma.  In  theoi-y 
he  held  his  powers  by  the  free  choice  of  the  majority  of 
SToslcms;  but,  when  he  had  once  received  their  oath  of 
allegiance,  he  became  their  absolute  master.  The  first 
condition  of  eligibility  to  the  Caliphate  was  to  belong  to 
the  tribe  of  Koraish.  In  Moslem  belief,  the  subjects  of 
the  Caliph  owed  him  obedience  and  aid  so  long  as  he 
should  fulfil  his  duties  with  exactness.  These  consisted 
in  maintaining  the  principles  of  religion,  in  administering 
justice  scrupulously,  in  defending  the  territory  and  assur- 
ing its  safety,  in  carrying  on  war  for  the  subjugation 
of  the  infidels,  and  in  spending  the  public  revenue  in 
conformity  to  the  law.  If  the  Caliph  failed  in  the 
performance  of  his  duty,  rebeUion  against  him  became 
lawful. 

The  ilinisters  might  be  absolute  or  dependent.  '  If 
dependent,  they  simply  executed  the  orders  of  their 
sovereign.  If  absolute,  they  took  his  place,  and  exercised 
all  the  powers  of  a  Caliph  except  that  they  could  not,  at 
least  in  tbeotj,  designate  any  suoceasor  to  the  reigning 


Galipn.     It  was  only  to  the  Caliph  himself  that  they  were 
responsible  for  their  actions. 

The  Prefects,  when  once   appointed,  whether   by  thePi«feeB 
Caliph  or  the  Vizier,  became  so  many  petty  sovereign.i, 
and,  legally,  owed  an  account  of  their  actions  .only  to  the 
Caliph,  or  to  his  Prime  Minister,  when  the  latter  was 
absolute. 

The  Generals  were  appointed  either  by  the  Caliph  or  by  Oena 
the  Vizier,  or  lastly  by  the  Prefect,  when  only  a  local  war  ^'^ 
was  iu  question.  They  were  sometimes  invested  with 
very  extensive  powers,  such  as  those  of  concluding  treaties 
of  peace,  of  administering  justice,  and  of  dividing  the 
booty.  The  General,  in  his-  turn,  appointed  the  officers 
{Kakihs)  and  under-officers  I^Arifs).  It  was  a  general 
order  that  infidels,  before  hostilities  against  them  were 
opened,  should  be  summoned  to  embrace  the  faith,  or  to 
submit  by  capitulation.  The  conversion  of  infidels  was 
valid,  even  when  effected  sword  in  hand,  on  the  field  of 
battle,  and  the  new  convert  became  inviolable  in  person 
and  property.  On  the  other  hand,  every  infidel  taken 
prisoner  was  sold  a^  a  slave,  with  his  wife  and  children. 
He  might  even  be  put  to  death.  Apostates  were  never  to 
be  spared ;  they  were  put  to  death,  and  their  property 
confiscated. 

Justice  was  administered  by  Cadis,  appointed  eitner  by  Cidis. 
the  Caliph,  by  the  Vizier,  or  by  the  Prefect.  To  be  eligible 
as  a  Caxli  (Kddi),  it  was  requisite  that  a  man  should 
be — 1.  A  male  and  of  respectable  age ;  2.  In  full  pos- 
session of  his  mental  and  physical  faculties ;  3.  A  free 
man ;  4.  A  Moslem ;  5.  Of  good  moral  character ; 
6.  Acquainted  with  the  principles  of  the  law  and  their 
application.  The  duties  of  the  Cadi  were  to  examine  into 
the  disputes  and  lawsuits  brought  before  him ;  to  enforce 
the  execution  of  his  judgments;  to  name  judicial  councils 
for  the  administration  of  the  goods  of  minors,  madmen, 
etc.;  to  administer  the  mortmain  property  of  mosques  and 
schools  (wakf,  plural  woku/) ;  to  watch  over  the  execution 
of  wills ;  to  inflict  due  legal  penalties  on  those  guilty  of 
crimes  or  misdemeanours ; '  and  to  inspect  the  highways 
and  public  buildings.  When  any  locality  possessed  no 
Imim,  or  public  officiator  at  the  mosque,  it  was  the  Cadi 
who  performed  this  duty.  The  assistants  of  the  Cadi 
were  Notaries  (Shohud),  Secretaries  (Omand),  and  Deputies 
(Ndyibin).  If  the  Cadi  died,  his  subordinates  lost  their 
offices  ipso  facto.  On  the  other  hand,  the  death  of  a 
Caliph  did  not  nullify  the  powers  of  the  Cadi ;  but  it  was 
necessary  that  he  should  be  confirmed  by  the  new  sove- 
reign. 

The  Court  of  Appeal  (Ifazar  al-Mazdlim)  was  instituted  Cr.iH  of 
to  take  cognizance  of  those  causes  in  which  the  parties  ■'■  IT"'- 
concerned  appealed  from  the  judgment  of  the  Cadi.  The 
sittings  of  this  court  were  presided  over  by  the  Caliph  in 
person.  It  was  established  by  the  Omayjad  'Abd  al-Melik. 
The  last  Caliph  who  sat  in  public  to  examine  appeal  cases 
was  Mohtadi.  After  him  a  special  judge  v/as  appointed  to 
the  function  of  presideiit  of  the  Court  of  Appeal. 

Besides  the  Judges  there  were  Inspectors  (Mohtasib),  I.-^pw 
charged  with  the  police  of  the  markets  and  the  care  of  '^-"^ 
morals.  The  Mohtasib's  duty  was  to  take  care  that 
weights  and  measures  were  not  falsified,  and  that  buyers 
were  not  deceived  as  to  the  quality  of  the  goods  sold.  He 
had  the  power  of  inflicting  summaiy  punishment  on  delin- 
quents, but  only  in  the  case  of  flagrant  offences.  If  the 
person  charged  denied  the  facts,  he  was  to  be  brought 
before  the  Cadi  As  regards  morals,  the  Mohtasib  took 
care  that  widows  and  divorced  women  should  not  remarry 
befbre  the  expiration  of  the  legal  period  prescribed  by.  the 


'  The  principal  offences  werev-apostasy,  neglect  of  religions  duties, 
refusal  to  pay  tazea,  theft,  adultery,  outrages,  and  murder.  The 
penaltiu  were  impriaoBment,  fiaea,  corporal  puimhmest,  and  death. 


592 


MOHAMMEDANISM 


[thxoloot? 


Marsha 
of  the 


Koran.  Slares  and  beast's  of  burden  were  placed  under 
his  guardianship,  and  he  protected  them  from  ill-treatment 
on  the  part  of  their  masters.  The  Mohtasib  was  also 
commissioned  to  prevent  public  8candal.%  such  as  the  sale 
of  wine ;  to  forbid  Christians  and  Jews  from  building 
houses  higher  than  those  of  the  Faithful ;  and  to  enforce 
their  wearing  on  their  dress  a  distinctive  mark  (Ghiydr). 

Besides  the  offices  already  described,  there  existed  three 
others  which  require  mention — those  of  the  Marshals  of 
the  Nobility  {NiJcdbat  al-Ashrdf),  of  the  ImAms,  and  of  the 
Emirs  of  the  Pilgrimage. 

The  Marshals  of  the  Nobility  were  appointed  in  the 
different  provinces  either  by  the  Caliph,  by  his  represent- 

Nobility.  ^(^j^gj^  or  by  the  Grand  Marshal.  Their  functions  were 
to  superintend  the  descendants  of  the  family  of  the 
Prophet,  who  formed  the  nolsility  of  Islam,  and  to  keep  a 
register  of  all  the  births  cfnd  deaths  which  occurred  in  the 
families  of  the  members  of  this  nobility.  In  every  pro- 
vince there  were  two  Marshals,  one  for  the  family  of  'AU, 
the  other  for  the  'Abbisids. 

I'Diw.  The  duty  of  the  Imim  was  to  recite  the  publio  prayers 
in  the  mosque.  He  was  appointed  by  the  Caliph  or  his 
representatives,  and  chose  in  his  turn  his  Mo'edhdMna, 
who  called  the  Faithful  to  prayer  from  the  tops  of  the 
minarets.  In  the  Friday  prayers  it  was  the  duty  of  the 
ImAm  to  invoke  p\iblicly  the  blessings  of  Heaven  on  the 
reigning  Caliph. 

Leader  r.f     The  leadership  of  the  yearly  pilgrimage  to  the  temple 

ihe  H\ij.  of  Mecca  was  considered  a  great  honour.  It  was  almost 
always  the  Caliph  himself  or  one  of  his  near  relatives  who 
assumed  the  function  of  Amir  al-Hajj.  The  duties  of  this 
teader  of  the  pilgrimage  were — 1.  To  escort  the  pilgrims  in 
safety  on  their  journeys  to  Mecca  and  back  ;  2.  To  direct 
the  religious  ceremonies  during  the  6ojoui-n  of  the  pilgrims 
at  the  Holy  City. 

Such,  briefly  stated,  was  the  organization  of  the  Moslem 
State.     Let  us  now  say  a  few  words  on  its  religion. 

Kelierion.  We  need  not  now  recur  to  the  subject  of  the  doctrines 
of  Mohammed,  which  are  treated  of  in  their  own  place ; 
but  it  is  imixirtant  to  show  what  they  became  after  the 
time  of  the  Prophet,  and  what  movements  they  aroused 
in  Islam.  The  diversity  of  the  conquered  races  was  of 
itself  sufficient  to  introduce,  in  the  course  of  ages,  serious 
modifications  of  the  earlier  religion. 

But,  from  the  very  first,  the  Koran  contained  wathin 
itself  the  germs  of  discord.  As  long  as  men  were  content 
to  adopt  its  teachings  without  discussion,  orth  jdoiy  might 
boast  of  maintaining  Itself  unbroken.  But  a/  soon  as  they 
Bought  to  examine  deeply  into  its  meani  ig,  dilficultiej 
arose,  which  necessarily  led  the  strongi.st  mind'  into 
doubt  and  uncertainty.  In  jjarticular,  the  conception  of 
God,  predestination,  and  free-will,  as  preseiited  by  the 
Koran,  could  not  bear  examination.  As  early  as  the  fii-st 
century  of  the  Flight  a  theological  school  was  founded  nt 
Basra,   the  most  renowned  master  of  which,   Hasan  al- 

<»:;i,l   Basri,  introduced  the  critical  study  of  dogmas.     His  dis- 

Mu.;/  .if  ciplesj  who  were  for  the  most  part  Persians,  could  not  fail 
soon  to  discover  that  the  Koran  often  contradicted  itself, 
and  especially  that  it  left  many  dogmatic  difficulties  unre- 
solved. One  of  the  disciples  of  Masan,  WA-sil  b.  'Ati,  set 
forth  his  scruples  publicly,  departing  on  three  points  from 
the  orthodox  doctrine.  The  Koran  affirms  the  attributes 
of  God  ;  W.lsil  b.  'At4  denied  them  ;  because^  he  says,  if 
the  attributes  of  God  arc  eternal,  they  constitute  in  some 
sort  so  many  deities.  Wo  ought  not  therefore  to  affirm 
the  existence  of  an  attribute — that  of  justice,  for  example 
— but  simply  to  affirm  that  God  is  essentially  just.  The 
Koran  admits  the  doctrine  of  predestination ;  Wisil 
rejected  it,  as  incompatible  with  the  theory  of  rewards 
and  punJ.shmont3  in  another  life,  which  presumes  absolute 


free-will  m  man.  The  Koran  epeaka  only  of  paraaise  &Bck 
hell ;  Wisil  admitted  a  purgatory.  The  sect  founded  by' 
Wisil  received  the  name  of  Mo'tazilita  (dissident),  or  Mo'tait" 
Kadarite,  that  is  to  say,  which  recognires  in  mau  a  power  ''!'"■ 
(A'acAar)  over  his  own  actions.  Another  sect,  that  of  the 
Jabarites  (Partisans  of  constraint)  agreed  with  the  Mo'taii-  JtW 
lites  on  the  question  of  the  attributes,  but  were  diametri-  "l**- 
cally  opposed  to  them  on  that  of  free-will;  The  Jabarites 
denied  to  man  the  slightest  share  in  his  own  actions,  and 
believed  the  very  smallest  actions  of  men  to  be  the  effect 
of  predestination.  The  Koran,  not  concerning  itself  with 
the  contradiction  involved,  admits  at  the  same  time  the 
responsibility  of  man  and  the  absolute  predestination  of 
his  actions.  The  Jabarites  rejected  all  responsibility,  and 
believed  that  man  is  predestined  from  all  eternity  to  para- 
dise or  to  hell,  for  no  other  reason  than  that  God  has  so  _ 
willed  it.  A  third  sect,  that  of  the  §ifatites  (Partisans  of  a£»tfte« 
the  Attributes),  contended  energetically  against  the  two 
former.  Keeping  to  the  t«xt  of  tho  sacred  book,  they 
alleged,  for  example,  that  when  it  is  said  in  the  Koran, 
that  God  is  seated  on  his  throne,  the  expression  must  bo 
taken  literally.  They  thus  fell  into  the  grossest  anthropo- 
morphism, a  doctrinfe  which  was  very  far  from  the  ideas  of 
Mohammed.  In  the  face  of  these  heterodox  sects,  tie 
orthodox  made  but  a  poor  figure.  Eejecting,  in  their 
commentaries  on  the  Koran,  the  explanations  alike  of  the 
Mo'tazilites,  of  the  Jabarites, ■"  and  of  the  Sifatitea,  but 
acknowledging  their  •  inability  to  refute  them  systemati- 
cally, they  merely  opposed  to  them  a  declaration  that  tha 
Koran  was  neither  to  be  explained  aUegoricallj'nor  always 
taken  literally ;  and  they  concluded  that,  where  two  con- 
tradictory expressions  could  not  be  reconciled,  a  mystery 
must  be  admitted  to  exist,  which  it  would  be  vain  to 
attempt  to  fathom.  But  they  did  not  always  keep  within 
thja  limits  of  discussion.  Under  the  reign  of  'Abd  al- 
Melik  they  succeeded  in  bringing  about  a  persecution  of 
the  sectaries. 

The  Jlo'tazilites,  the  Jabarites,  and  the  gifatites  were 
dangerous  only  to  tho  Church.  Other  sects  arose,  which 
put  the  State  itself  in  peril  It  will  be  remembered  that, 
at  the  time  of  the  dispute  between  "AU  and  Mo'Awiya, 
twelve  thousand  of  the  partisans  of  the  former  deserted 
him.  These  revolters,  or  Khirijites,  originated  one  of  the  Khir- 
most  formidable  sects  which  ever  existed  in  Islam.  TheJ''"- 
KhArijites  rejected  in  principle  the  Caliphate  and  the 
Imimate.  At  all  events,  they  did  not  acknowledge  the 
exclusive  right  of  the  Koraish  to  the  Caliphate,  but 
declared  that,  if  it  was  absolutely  necessary  to  elect  a 
Caliph,  his  origin  was  of  little  consequence,  provided  he 
fulfilled  his  duties  conscientiously  and  exactly.  We  have 
seen  for  what  a  length  of  time  they  kept  the  Omayyads 
in  check.  AVben  they  had  been  put  down  in  Asia,  they 
passed  into  Africa,  and  there  made  numerous  proselytes 
among  the  Berbers,  disposed  as  these  were,  by  their 
independent  character,  to  adopt  with  enthusiasm  the 
principle  of  anordiy.  The  most  terrible,  however,  of  the 
militant  sects  which  were  formed  in  the  bosom  of  Islam 
was  that  of  the  Shl'itcs.  Originally  the  ShTites  wereShi'ittc 
simply  the  partisans  of  'All  and  of  his  descendants.  In 
the  course  of  time,  when  the  whole  of  Persia  had  adopted 
the  cause  of  the  family  of  "Ali,  Shl'ism  became  the  recep- 
tacle of  all  the  religious  ideas  of  tho  Persians,  and  Dualism, 
Gnosticism,  and  Slapicheisin,  were  to  be  seen  reflected  in 
it.  Even  in  the  lifetime  of  'AH,  a  converted  Jew,  named 
"Abdallih  b.  SabA,  had  striwn  to  introduce  foreign 
elements  into  Islam.  Thus,  ho  alleged  t)ir.t  'All  was  to  be 
adored  as  an  incarnation  of  the  Deity.  These  ideas, 
though  rejected  witli  horror  by  'AU  himsJ/,  and  by  the 
greater  part  of  the  first  Shi'itt.s,  gr.idually  ma.'  ■  way  ;  and 
aU  the  direct  descendants  of  'Mi  became  veritavic  deities  in 


OEcrs.] 


MOHAMMEDANISM 


593 


Ths 
ortho- 
dox 
•ect3. 


the  eyes  of  their  respective  partisans.  " K  further  distinc- 
tion between  the  SWites  and  other  sects  is,  that  they 
introdaced  the  practice  of  giving  the  Koran  an  allegorical 
interpretation.  Tiiis  system  permitted  them  to  see  in  the 
Bacred  book  whatever  meaning  they  chose,  and  was  carried 
out  at  a  later  date,  as  we  shall  see,  by  the  founder  of  the 
Ismailian  sect. 

Under  the  "Abbisids  it  seemed  for  a  moment  that  the 
Shi'ite  doctrines  were  about  to  triiunph.  We  know,  in 
fact,  that  the  foftnder  of  that  dynasty  gave  himself  out  as 
the  heir  of  the  house  of  'Alt.  But  reasons  of  State 
prevailed,  and  the  'Abbisids,  false  to  their  first  professions, 
on  the  whole  supported  orthodoxy.  Under  their  reign 
were  established  the  four  orthodox  sects  —  MAIikite, 
Hanafite,  Shdfi'ite,  and  Hanbalite,  which  even  at  this  day 
divide  between  them  the  whole  Moslem  world.  They  are 
named  after  their  f oiinders — MAlik,  Abu  Hanlfa,  Shdfi'i,  and 
Ibn  Hanbal.  These  sects  only  difi'er  from  each  other  on  a 
few  points  of  civil  and  religious  jurisprudence.  They  agree 
on  questions  Of  dogma.  It  was  not,  however,  without 
difficulty  that  orthodoxy  succeeded  in  obtaining  the 
victory.  Under  Ma'miin  and  other  Caliphs  several  doctors, 
as  we  have  seen,  were  persecuted  for  believing  that  the 
Koran  was  the  uncreated  word  of  God.  From  the  time 
of  Motawakkil,  however,  -orthodoxy  regained  the  upper 
hand.  Still,  this  reaction  would  not  have  lasted  long,  in 
face  of  the  advance  in  science  which  marked  the  accession 
of  ila'mun  to  power,  if  the  orthodox  had  had  no  other 
defensive  weapons  than  material  force  and  the  assent  of 
the  majority.  As  philosophy  made  its  way  La  Islam, 
thanks  to  the  translations  from  Greek  authors,  which 
were  made  principally  during  the  Caliphate  of  Ma'mto,  it 
called  forth  in  men's  minds  a  movement  of  scientific  curiosity 
which  might  have  been  fatal  to  orthodoxy.  In  the  tenth 
century  of  our  era  a  society  of  encyclopedists  was  formed  at 
Ba- ra,  who,  under  the  name  of  Ikhwdn  al-Saf A,  or  Brothers  of 
Purity,  put  forth  a  number  of  very  ciirioua  treatises,  in 
which  all  sorts  of  physical  and  metaphysical  questions  were 
discussed  and  resolved  in  a  scientific  manner.*  There  is  no 
doubt  that  these  lucid  and  attractive  writings  would  have 
led  to  a  great  religious  revolution,  if  the  orthodox  had  not 
understood  the  danger  of  their  position,  and  applied 
themselves  also  to  the  study  of  philosophy,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  employing  it  in  the  service  of  the  faith.  It  was 
thus  that,  towards  the  middle  of  the  tenth  century,  a 
certain  Abii  '1- Hasan  al-Ash"arl,  a  descendant  of  that  Abii 
Jjii'al.  MiisA  al-Ash'arl  who  had  formerly  acted  the  part  of 
arbitrator  in  the  dispute  between  Mo'dwiya  and  'AU, 
struck  out  a  S3'stem  in  which  religion  appesued  to  be 
reconciled  with  philosophy;  a  system  which  was  natur- 
ally sure  to  attract  all  commonplace  minds — that  is  to  say, 
the  greater  number.  Ash'arism,  or  philosophic  theology 
(KalAm),  was  adopted  with  enthusiasm  by  the  triumphant 
orthodox  doctors,  and  thenceforth  pure  philosophy  and  the 
heterodox  sects  ceased  to  extend  their  influence." 

The  creation,  however,  of  this  philosophical  theology 
had  not  done  away  with  aU  dangers  for  orthodoxy.  We 
have  seen  above  that  the  Shfa/  were  divided  into  several 
sects,  each  holding  for  one  of  the  direct  descendants  of 
'Mi,  and  paying  him  the  reverence  due  to  a  deity.  One  of 
these  sects,  called  the  Ismailian,  because  it  acknowledged 
Ism.-i'll,  the  seventh  Imiim  or  Pontiff  of  the  jjostcrity  of 
'jUf,  as  its  chief,  was  the  source  of  the  greatest  disorders 
in  the  Moslem  empire,  and  was  not  far  from  being 
triumphant  in  Asia,  as  it  was  for  a  long  time  in  Egypt. 
The  Ismailians,  like  all  the  other  Shl'ites,  believed  in  the 


Tsmai  li- 
ana. 


'  The  most  important  have  been  translated  into  German  by  Prof. 
Dieterici, 

^  See  Houtsma,  Ds  Strijd  over  hei  dogm/i  in  den  Isldm  tot  op  el- 
Aah'ari;  and  Spitto,  Zkt  QescMchte  Aia'l-^asan ai-Aiari'a. 


coming  of  a  Messiah,  whom  they  called  the  Mahdl,-  and 
who,  according  to  them,  was  one  day  to  appear  on  earth, 
in  order  to  establish  the  reign  of  justice  and  equity,  and 
to  take  vengeance  on  the  oppressors  of  the  family  of  'All. 
They  also  believed  in  a  God  of  far  more  elevated  character 
than  the  God  of  the  Koran,  one  who  was  unapproachable 
by  human  reason,  and  who  had  created  the  universe,  not 
directly,  but  by  the  intermediate  action  of  a  sublime 
being,  the  .Universal  Reason,  produced  by  an  act  of  God's 
will.  The  Universal  Reason,  in  its  turn,  had  produced 
the  Universal  Soul,  which,  on  its  part,  had  given  birth  to 
primitive  Matter,  to  Space,  and  to  Time.  These  five 
principles  were  the  causes  of  the  imiverss.  Man,  emanating 
from  them,  ha.d  a  tendency  to  reascend  towards  his  source. 
The  chief  end  of  his  being  was  to  attain  to  perfect  union 
with  the  Universal  Reason.^  But,  left  to  himself,  man 
would  have  been  powerless  to  attain  this  end.  The 
Universal  Reason  and  the  Universal  Soul  therefore  became 
incarnate  among  men,  in  order  to  guide  them  towards 
the  Ught.  These  incarnations  were  no  other  than  the 
prophets  in  all  ages,  and,  in  the  last  period,  the  Imilms  of 
the  posterity  of  'All.  In  the  second  half  of  the  ninth 
century,  a  Persian,  bom  in  Susiana  and  named  'AbdallAh 
b.  Maimun  al-KaddAh,  nourished  the  dream  of  destroying 
Islam,  and  thought  these  doctrines,  suitably  modiied, 
likely  to  be  highly  usefid  in  carrying  out  his  purpose. 
He  devised  a  system  at  once  religious,  philosophical, 
political,  and  social,  in  which,  as  he  thought,  all  beliefs 
were  to  meet  and  mingle,  but^and  in  this  consisted  its 
originahty^-a  system  so  graduated  to  suit  different 
degrees  of  intelligence,  that  the-  whole  world  should 
become  one  vast  Masonic  association.  The  chief  of  the 
Ismailians,  the  ImAm  lomu'll,  having  died,  'AbdallAh 
asserted  that  his  son  Mohammed  b.  IsmS'il  was  to  succeed 
him  as  the  founder  of  this  new  religion,  which  it  was 
'Abdalldh's  mission  to  announce  to  the  world.  Since  the 
creation  of  the  world,  as  'AbdaUdh  assorted,  there  had 
been  six  religious  periods,  each  marked  by  an  incarnation 
of  the  .  Universal  Reason  in  the  person  of  a  prophet. 
Adam,  Noah,  Abraham,  Jfoses,  Jesus,  and  Mohanix.ed 
had  been  the  prophets  of  these  periods.  Their  mission  had 
been  to  invite  men  to  accept  more  and  more  perfect  forms 
of  religion.  The  seventh  and  last  religion,  and  the  most 
perfect  of  all,  was  that  of  .Mohammed  b.  Ism&'il,  the  true 
Messiah.  The  IsmaiUans,  as  may  be  imagined,  readily 
embraced  the  theories  of  'AbdallAh.  In  addressing  other 
sects  and  religions,  'Abdall.'lh  used  special  arguments 
with  each.  With  the  philosophers  he  dwelt  on  the 
philosophical  principles  of  his  doctrine.  The  conversion 
of  Christians,  Moslems,  or  Jews,  was  a  more  difficult 
task.  'AbdaUAh  had  established  several  degrees  of  initia- 
tion, and  it  was  only  by  slow  degrees,  and  with  the  most 
minute  precautions,  that  he  gained  a  mastery  over  the 
mind  of  the  future  proselyte.  His  curiosity  was  first 
aroused  by  allegorical  interpretations  of  the  Old  Testament, 
the  Gospels,  and  the  Koran,  ajd  by  proposing  to  him  reli- 
gious problems  which  could  not  be  solved  by  any  of  the 
existing  religions.  The  solution  of  these  problems  was  not 
to  be  given  to  him  till  he  should  have  signed  a  compact, 
and  sworn  Aever  to  reveal  the  mysteries  with  which  ha 
was  made  acquainted.  If  he  took  this  pledge,  he  thence- 
forward belonged,  iDody  and  soul,  to  the  sect ;  and  woe  to 
him  if  he  made  any  attempt  to  -svithdraw  himself  from  the 
authority  of  his  chiefs  !  The  compact  signed,  the  newly- 
initiated  disciple  had  to  make  a  certain  payment,  which 
went  to  swell  the  treasury  of  the  sect.     The  secret  society 


*  It  need  hardJy  be  said  that  all  these  doctrines  were  borrowed 
fiom  Gnosticism  and  from  Xeo-Platonism.  See  on  the  Ismailian  sect 
Guyard,  Fragments  rdalifs  d  la  doctrin"  dcs  Tsma^liens,  and  Cn^prand" 
mallre  dcs  Assassins  au  temps  de  Saladin,  "^ 


594 


MOHAMMEDANISM 


[law." 


four.Jed  by  'Abdalldh  soon  had  a  great  number  of  mem- 
bers, and  its  missionaries  spread  themselves  over  the 
Jloslera  world.  Towards  887  a.d.  an  Ismailian,  Kamddn, 
surnaraed  Karmat,  founded  the  branch  sect  of  the  Carma- 
thians,  whose  exploits  have  been  recorded  above.  The 
Ismailian  preachers  also  made  numerous  proselytes  in 
Africa  and  in  Egypt;  and  in  a.d.  909,  'Obaid  AllAh,  a 
descendant  of  the  founder  of  the  sect,  but  who  passed  as  a 
member  of  the  family  of  'All,  founded  the  FAtimite  dynasty. 
Fit."  Under  the  Fitimite  Caliph  Hikim,  a  new  religion  sprang 
pites.  out  of  Ismailism,  that  of  the  Druses,  so  called  from  its 
inventor,  a  certain  Darazi  or  Dorzl.  This  religion  differs 
little  from  Ismailism,  except  that  it  introduces  the  dogma  of 
the  incarnation  of  God  himself  on  earth,  under  the  form  of 
the  Caliph  H4kim.  This  heresy  did  not  survive  (he  reign  of 
lIAkim  in  Egypt.  When  the  FAtimite  Caliph  Mostansir 
ascended  the  throne,  he  re-established  the  Ismailian  belief ; 
and  the  Druses,  driven  from  Egypt,  took  refuge  in  the 
Lebanon,  where  they  stiU  exist.  As  for  the  Egyptian 
Ismailians,  they  disappeared  at  the  time  of  the  conqiiest 
of  that  province  by  the  pious  and  orthodox  Ayyiibite 
Saladin.  This,  however,  was  not  a  final  deliverance  of 
Islam  from  that  formidable  heresy.  A  hundred  years 
Iiefore  the  return  of  Egypt  to  orthodoxy,  a  Persian  named 
Hasan  SabbAh,  who  had  been  initiated  into  Ismailism 
at  Cairo,  in  the  household  of  the  Caliph  Mostansir,  had 
founded  at  Alamut,  on  the  southern  shores  of  the  Caspian 
Sea,  that  Persian  branch  of  the  Ismailians  known  to  all 
Airis-  the  world  under  the  name  of  the  Assassins,^  who  held  in 
siii*  check  the  most  powerful  princes  of  Islam,  till  they  were 
destroyed  by  the  Mongol  invasion.  From  Persia,  Hasan 
SabbAh  succeeded  in  filling  Syria  with  his  Assassins,  and 
every  one  knows  the  part  they  played  during  the  Crusades. 
The  Assassins  of  Syria  have  never  entirely  disappeared. 
Even  at  this  day  some  are  to  be  found  in  the  Lebanon. 
There  are  also  some  representatives  of  the  sect  in  Persia, 
in  India,  and  even  in  Zanzibar  ;  but  since  the  1 3th  century 
they  have  become  completely  inoffensive. 

To  conclude  this  sketch  of  the  development  of  religious 
beliefs,  it  remains  to  say  a  few  words  on  one  of  the  most 
remarkable  manifestations  of  Islam — its  mysticism,  or 
Siifism.  S^lfisni.  In  principle,  mysticism  is  rather  a  mode  of 
j  iractising  religion  than  a  distinct  religion ;  it  depends  on 
the  character  of  the  believer's  mind,  and  adapts  itself  to 
all  dogmas.^  It  is  the  especial  tendency  of  tender  and 
dreamy  spirits.  Thus  among  the  Moslems  it  is  a  woman 
v.'ho  is  considered  to  have  founded  mysticism.  This  woman, 
named  Rabl'a,  lived  in  the  first  century  of  the  Hijra,  and 
was  buried  at  Jerusalem.  Her  doctrine  was  simply  the 
theory  of  Divine  love.  She  taught  that  God  must  be 
loved  above  all  things,  because  he  alono  is  worthy  of  !c  ve ; 
and  that  everything  hero  below  must  bo  sacrificed  in  the 
hope  of  one  day  attaining  to  union  with  God.  These 
views  were  too  similar  to  the  Neo-Platonic  ideas  respecting 
the  union  of  the  human  intellect  with  the  Universal  Reason 
not  to  have  an  attraction  for  the  Gnostics,  who  abounded 
in  the  Shl'ito  sects.  Mysticism  therefore  made  great  pro- 
jrrcss  in  Persia,  and  assumed  the  character  of  a  sect  towards 
the  year  200  of  the  Flight.  A  certain  Abd  Sa'id  b.  Abi  '1- 
]\liair  was  the  first  who  advised  his  disciples  to  forsake 
tlio  world  and  embrace  a  monastic  life,  in  order  to  devote 
themselves  exclusively  to  meditation  and  contemplation  ; 
a  practice  which  may  very  jirobably  have  boon  borrowed 
from  India.  The  disciples  of  Abii  Sa'ld  wore  a  garment 
of  wool  (■?(?/),  whence  they  received  the  name  of  fjufis. 
J:!i'ifism  spread  more  and  more  in  Persia,  and  was  enthusi- 


astically embraced  by  tho.se  who  wished  to  give  themselves 
up  undisturbed  to  philosophical  speculation.  Thus,  under 
the  colour  of  Sufism,  opinions  entirely  subversive  of  tho 
faith  of  Islam  were  professed.  In  its  first  form  §ufism 
was  quite  compatible  with  Moslem  dogma.  It  was  satis- 
fied to  profess  a  contempt  for  life,  and  an  exclusive  love  of 
God,  and  to  extol  ascetic  practices,  as  the  fittest  means  of 
procuring  those  states  of  ecstasy  during  which  the  sokJ  was 
supposed  to  contemplate  the  Supreme  Being  face  to  face. 
But  by  degrees,  thanks  to  the  adepts  whom  it  drew  front 
tho  ranks  of  heterodoxy,  ^lifism  departed  from  its  original 
purpose,  and  entered  on  discussions  respecting  the  Divine' 
nature,  which  in  some  cases  finally  led  to  Pantheism. 
The  principal  argument  of  these  Pantheistic  Siifis  was  that 
God  being  one,  the  creation  must  make  a  part  of  his 
being ;  since  otherwise  it  would  exist  externally  to  him, 
and  would  form  a  principle  distinct  from  him ;  which 
would  be  equivalent  to  looking  on  the  universe  as  a  deity 
opposed  to  God.  In  the  reign  of  Moktadir,  a  Persian  Siifi 
named  HallAj,  who  taught  pubUcly  that  eveiy  man  ij  God, 
was  tortured  and  put  to  death.  After  this  the  Sufis  showed 
more  caution,  and  veiled  their  teachings  under  oratorical 
phrases.  Moreover,  it  was  not  all  the  Sufis  who  pushed 
logical  results  so  far  as  to  assert  that  man  is  God.  They 
maintained  that  God  is  all,  but  not  that  all  is  God.  Siifism 
exists  in  Persia  even  in  our  own  day. 

It  has  been  explained  that,  imder  the  'Abbisids,  foui'  i-<i») 
orthodox  sects  were  established,  aiid  that  these  secta 
difl'ered  among  themselves  principally  with  regard  to  juris- 
prudence. The  law  of  Islam  is  one  of  its  most  original 
creations,  and  can  Only  be  compared  in  history  with  the 
development  of  Roman  law.  The  laws  laid  down  by 
Mohammed  in  the  Koran  might  suffice  for  the  Arabs  as 
long  as  they  were  confined  within  the  bounds  of  their 
peninsula.  When  their  empire  was  extended  beyond  theso 
limits,  it  was  inevitable  that  this  first  code  should  becomo 
insufficient  for  their  wants.  As  early  as  the  time  of  tho 
first  four  Caliphs  it  was  necessai-y,  in  giving  judgment 
on  the  new  cases  which  presented  themselves,  to  have  re- 
course to  analogy,  and  to  draw  inspiration  from  decision>i 
given  by  Mohammed,  but  not  recorded  in  the  Koran.  Tho 
.first  fountains,  therefore,  of  law  were,  besides  the  sacred 
book,  the  traditions  of  Mohammed,  or  Hadith,  the  collective  '''"'"'^^ 
body  of  which  constitutes  the  Sunna,  or  custom.  Theso  •  *•""• 
traditions  were  for  a  long  time  preserved  only  in  tho 
memory  of  the  companions  of  Mohammed,  and  of  those  to 
whom  they  had  been  orally  communicated.  But  at  tho 
beginning  of  the  second  century  of  the  Flight  tho  need 
was  felt  of  fixing  tradition  in  writing;  and  it  was  at 
Medina  that  tho  first  collection  of  them  was  made.  It 
was  due  to  tho  jurisconsult  JIAlik  b.  Anas.  He  rejected  M.ilik 
from  his  collection  with  the  greatest  care  all  traditions  "'^^' . 
which  appeared  doubtful,  and  only  preserved  about  seven-  ji^u,^ 
teen  hundred,  which  he  arranged  in  the  order  of  their 
subjects.  To  this  collection  he  gave  the  name  of  ifouaUa, 
or  Beaten  Path.^  After  him  came  tho  celebrated  Bokhiri, 
tho  compiler  of  the  Sahih,*  in  which  he  brought  together 
about  seven  thousand  tradition.?,  carefidly  chosen.  Tho 
(fah'ih  has  continued  to  bo  tho  standard  work  on  the  subject 
of  tradition, 

Tho  traditions  did  not  always   supply  the  means   of 
deciding   difficult   causes.     Tho   first   four   Caliphs   were 
often  obliged  to  have  recourse  to  their  own  judgment  in 
the  admirustration  of  justice.     Their   decisions  {'Al/idr)J^" 
were  also  collected  at  Medina,  and  helped  to  swell  the  Auiir. 
store  of  juridical  matter. 


^  From  Ila^hish'in,  or  caters  of  llashiah — that  is,  Cannabis  Imlica, 
'  See  Gu'ytini,  "  'Abd  ar-Kazzik  ot  son  traiti  do  la  priSdestination  et 

du  libre  arbitrt,"  Jmm.  askit.,  Feb.-Mar.  1873 ;  Dozy,  Hct  hlamimrj, 

.2a  cd.  13S0. 


»  Publislied  at  Tunis,  in  India,  and  at  Cairo,  i.H.  1280,  Mritli  tlio 
commentary  of  Zarlxdnt. 

*  Krehl's  edition'  (Lcydon)  is  slill  unfini^llc,1.  Aa  edition,  fully 
vocalised,  iu  8  vols.,  appeared  at  T3ulak,  A.U.  1296. 


UTERATIIBB.] 


MOHAMMEDANISM 


595 


flchoclof  In  1r4?  another  school  of  law  was  formed,  which  is 
liik.  distinguished  from  that  of  Medina  by  a  greater  dfegree  of 
independence.  While  the  lawyers  of  Medina  held  strictly 
to  the  Koran,  the  traditions  of  the  Prophet,  and  the 
'Athir,  those  of  'Irife  admitted,  in  addition  to  these,  the 
deductive  or  analogical  method  (Kiyds),  according  to 
irhich  it  was  lawful  to  create  precedents,  provided  there 
was  no  departiire  from  the  spirit  of  the  sacred  book,  from 
the  traditions  of  the  Prophet,  or  from  the  corresponding 
decisions  of  the  first  four  Caliphs.  Ibn  Abi  Laila,  who 
filled  the  oflBce  of  judge  in  'Ird^  vmder  the  caliphate 
of  Mansiir,  was  one  of  the  first  to  apply  this  system. 
His  renown,  however,  was  eclipsed  by  that  of  his  con- 
temporary Abii  Hanifa,  who  worked  out  a  complete  system 
of  jurisprudence,  with  which  his  name  has  continued  to 
be  connected  (Hanifite  law).  Fifty  years  after  the  death 
of  Abii  Hanifa,  Sh4fi%  a  pupil  of  MAlik,  appeared  at 
Baghdad,  and  founded  in  his  turn  an  intermediate  system, 
in  which  he  endeavoured  to  hold  an  equed  balance  be- 
tween the  purely  traditional  and  the  deductive  methods. 
The  fourth  system  reputed  orthodox  is  that  of.  Ibn  Hanbal, 
a  pupil  of  Shdfi'l.  Ibn  Hanbal  strove  above  all  things  to 
bring  back  religious  observances  to  their  primitive  purity. 
Hi",  doctrine  was  a  kind  of  puritanism.  As  may  be  sup- 
posed, each  of  these  systems  has  been  subsequently  deve- 
loped and  commented  on  in  a  multitude  of  works,  even 
the  names  of  which  it  is  impossible  to  enumerate.  In 
order,  however,  to  give  some  idea  .of  what  a  Moslem 
treatise  on  jurisprudence  is,  we  shall  point  out  the  principal 
subjects  contained  in  it.  It  treaU  successively — 1.  Of. 
Purification  (ablutions  commanded  by  the  law,  purification 
of  women,  circumcision,  etc.)  ;  2.  Of  Prayer  as  commanded 
by  the  law  ;  3.  Of  Funerals  ;  4.  Of  Tithe  and  Almsgiving  ; 
5.  Of  the  legal  Fast ;  6.  Of  the  Pilgrimage  to  Mecca  ;  7. 
Of  Commercial  and  other  transactions  ;  8,  Of  Inheritance ; 
9.  Of  Marriage  and  Divorce  ;  10;  Of  the  Faith  ;  11.  Of 
Crimes  arid  Misdemeanours  ;  12.  Of  Justice  ;  13.  Of  the 
Im.^mate  or  spiritual  power,  and  of  the  Caliphate  or  tem- 
poral power.  It  is  thus  a  complete  code,  religious,  civil, 
penal,  and  governmental,  that  Moslem  treatises  on  juris- 
prudence set  before  us  ;  a  code  which  embraces  and  foresees 
all  the  circumstances  both  of  public  and  private  life. 

The  development  of  science  and  literature  runs  parallel 
with  the  development  of  law.  Before  the  time  of 
Mohammed  the  Arabs  had  been  distinguished  oidy  by 
ft  rare  poetical  talent.  Islam  was  the  signal  for  the 
Bpringing  up  of  all  the  sciences  and  of  literature.  While 
the  study  of  the  dogmas  and  ordinances  of  the  Koran 
was  producing  theology  and  jurisprudence,  the  necessity 
of  preserving  the  exact  text  of  the  sacred  book,  and  of 
teaching  the  new  converts  the  language  of  the  Prophet, 
was  giving  birth  to  grammar  and  lexicography.  The  first 
school  of  grammar  was  established  at  Ba.sra.  The  first 
attempts  at  grammar  are  generally  attributed  to  a  certain 
Abii  '1-Aswad  al-Do'ali,  who  was  tutor  to  the  children  of 
Ziy.W,  the  brother  of  Mo'Awiya.  According,  however, 
to  some  authors,  the  honour  of  having  discovered  the 
first  elements  of  grammar  ought  to  be  attributed  to  a 
Persian,  named  'Abd  al-Rahm4n  b.  Hormilz.  Be  this  as 
it  may,  a  foreign  influence  must  be  recognized  at  the 
very  commencement  of  this  science.  The  vowel  marks, 
for  instance,  were  imitated  from  those  of  the  Syriac.  The 
division  of  the  parts  of  speech  into  noun.?,  verbs,  and 
particles  was  indirectly  borrowed  from  Greek  grammar. 
Yet  the  Moslems,  once  in  possession  of  the  principles  of 
grammar,  knew  how  to  develop  and  apply  them  in  an 
admirable  manner.  A  perfect  galaxy  of  grammarians 
arose  in  the  track  of  Abii  '1-Aswad ;  a  rival  school  to  that 
of  Basra  was  established  at  Cufa,  and  grammar  r.ttained 
its  highest  degree  of  perfection  imdsr  the  first  'AbDAsids  ; 


Scieno 

and 

letters. 


as  is  shown  by  the  voluminous  treatise  of  SfbSwaihi,  known 
under  the  name  of  Kitdb,^  or  the  Book  par  excellence. 

In  lexicography,  the  Arabs  were  at  first  content  to  ex-Lexko- 
plain  the  rarer  words  of  the  Koran,  of  the  traditions,  and g™p!>;- 
of  the  ancient  poems ;  and  to  collect  lists  of  terms  applying 
to  the  same  object,  as  the  camel,  the  horse,  the  sword,  etc. 
Thus  small  coUections  were  formed,  which  served  afterwaids 
for  the  composition  of  dictionaries.  The  first  dictionary 
properly  so  called,  composed  in  Arabic,  appears  to  have 
been  the  Kitdb  al-^Ain  of  Khahl  b.  Ahmed  al-Far4hidl,  a 
contemporary  of  H4r\in  al-Rashid.  After  him  came  Jauharl, 
■whosB.Sahdh  may  still  be  consulted  with  profit.  The  cele- 
brated Zamakhsharl  composed  a  dictionary  of  metaphors 
imder  the  title  of  Asds  al-Baldgka.  Lastly,  Tha'ilibl,  in 
the  11th  century  of  our  era,  drew  up  his  Fikh  al-Logha* 
a  work  specially  devoted  to  synonyms.  The  accessory 
branches  of  jihilology  gave  occasion  to  some  important 
worka.  The  ancient  poems  and  proverbs  were  collected 
and  commented  on.  Thus  Ab>i  TammAm  formed  his  Antho- 
logy, called  Hamas  A  (q.v.),  and  MaidAni  his  collection  of 
proverbs  {Kitdb  amthAl  al-'Arab).^  The  study  of  poetry.  Poetry 
with  special  regard  to  its  rhythm,  led  Khalll  b.  Ahmed,  ""^ -^  ■ 
already  mentioned  as  a  grammarian  and  lexicographer,  to  ""•"'-'^ 
the  conception  of  prosody.  He  wrote  the  first  treatise  on 
that  science,  which  served  as  a  model  to  all  subsequent 
writers  on  metre.*  Pure  literature  remained  confined  to 
poetry.  It  was  not  that  the  Arabs  were  without  any 
conception  of  the  romance,  the  tale,  or  the  novel.  The 
adventures  of  Antar,  the  romances  of  Dhii  '1-Himma  and 
of  Saif  al-Yazan,  the  Thousand  and  one  Nights,  and 
various  coUections.  of  stories  and  novels,  such  as  the  Faraj 
ba'da  'l-Shidda  and  the  compilation  of  Bi^AI,  well  known 
by  the  extracts  which  Kosegarten  has  given  in  his  Chres- 
tomathy ; — all  these  show  clearly  that  the  Arabs  were  not 
devoid  of  imagination,  at  least  if,  as  we  believe,  these  tales 
and  romances  were  not  pure  and  simple  imitations  from 
the  Persian.  It  must  be  acknowledged,  however,  that  these 
few  productions  do  not,  any  more  than  the  Makdmdt  of 
Hamadhdnl  and  of  Hariri,  constitute  a  very  important 
literature.  The  drama,  the  epic,  the  romance  of  character, 
were  absolutely  unknown  to  the  Arabs.  Poetry,  on  the 
other  hand,  an  endowment  of  the  ancient  Arabs,  continued 
to  live  and  flourish  as  long  as  the  Eastern  Caliphate  lasted. 
We  may  count  poets  by  the  hundred,  eminent  in  every 
department  of  that  art :  in  descriptive,  erotic,  martial,  and 
philosophic  poetry;  in  odes,  in  satires,  etc.  The  great 
collection  entitled  Kitdb  al-Aghdni,''  compiled  by  Isftiinl, 
contains  a  choice  of  the  finest  poems,  accompanied  by  very 
instructive  notices  of  the  poets,  and  of  the  circumstances 
under  which  they  composed  such  and  such  pieces.  Besides 
this,  many  DlwAns,  or  complete  editions  of  the  works  of 
poets,  have  come  down  to  us.  They  bear  the  celebrated 
names  of  Nibigha,  of  'Antara,  of  T^rafa,  of  Zohair,  of 
'Allfama,  of  Amraallfais,  of  Shanfara,  of  Labid,  in  the  pre- 
Islamic  period  (see  Mo'at.t.akat);  of  Jarir,  Akhtal,  and 
Farazdak,'  in  the  Omayyad  period ;  and  of  Abii  Nowis,^ 
Abii  'l-'Atdhiya,  Moslim,'  Motauabb:*  {q.v.),  and  Abi  "1- 
■A14,'  in  the  period  of  the  'AbbAsids.  And  this  list  con- 
tains only  the  most  illustrious  names.  


•  The  first  part  of  wliich  has  just  been  published  by  H.  Derenbourg 
(Paris,  1882).  '  Published  by  Koshaid  Dshdab. 

'  Tnmsluted  by  Freytag  (Bonn,  1838-43),  with  the  Arabic  text  of 
the  proverbs.  *  See  Freytag,  Arabische  VeTsk^nst. 

»  Published  at  Bilik,  A.H.  1285  (20  vols  )  See  also  Kosegarten,' 
Ali  Ispahnnauia  tiber  canlUmarum,  torn.  i.  Greifswald,  1840. 

•  See  Caussia  de  Perceval  in  the  Journal  asiatijue,  2d  scr.,  vol*, 
xiii.  liy. 

'  See  Ahlwardt,  Die  WeingediclUe  da  Abu  iVuuw*  (OreiDiwal^ 
1861 ),  and,  for  a  Cairo  edition,  Z.  D.  it.  O.,  ixi  c74. 

•  Eilited  by  De  Goeje." 

•  See  Rieu,  De  Abul.Alcr  viix  el  cannin(bu4,  and  Kremer  ii 
Z  D.  M.  a.,  Jisii.,  MI.,  i"L 


596 


M  O  H  A  M  M  E  D  A  N  I  S  IvI 


[science. 


With  the  accession  of  the  'AbbAsids  to  power,  Moslem 
culture  entered  on  a  path  fruitful  in  Bcieutilic  progress. 
The  second  Caliph  of  that  family,  Mansiir,  was  surrounded 
by  Syrian  Christians  of  great  learning,  and  equally  weU 
Transla-  acquainted  with  the  Greek,  Syriac,  and  Arabic  languages, 
tions  and  took  advantage  of  their  abilities  to  have  a  number  of 
^'^'^,'''°  foreign  books  translated  into  Arabic.  Thanks  to  him,  the 
■writings  of  Aristotle,  Ptolemy,  and  Euclid  spread  a  taste 
for  science  among  the  Moslems.  The  Caliph  Ma'mtin 
was  one  of  those  who  most  encouraged  translations  from 
the  Greek.  In  this  way  the  Moslems  became  acquainted 
with  the  most  important  productions  of -the  ancient  world. 
Plato,  the  works  of  the  Alexandrian  school,  those  of  Hip- 
pocrates, Dioscoridos,  and  Galen,  were  familiar  to  them. 
Through  the  Persians  many  Indian  writings  also  became 
accessible  to  them,  such  as  the  fables  of  Bidpai,'  and  certain 
treatises  on  astronomy  and  algebra.  The  study  of  philo- 
sophy in  all  its  branches  was  at  one  time  in  fashion,  and, 
to  appreciate  the  success  with  which  it  was  ciiltivated  in 
Islam',  we  need  only  recall  the  great  names  of  Al-Kindl, 
Al-FdrAbf,  Ibn  SlnA  (Avicenna),  Ibn  B^ji  (Avempace),  and 
Ibn  Eoshd  (AveAces),  whose  scientific  teaching  swayed 
the  Middle  Ages,  and  led  to  the  revival  of  learning  in  the 
West. 
History  In  history  and  geography,  the  Moslems  distinguished 
and  geo-  themselves.  The  taste  for  history  had  been  developed 
8"P'"'-  among  them  by  the  necessity  of  collecting  all  traditions 
relating  to  the  Prophet,  and  by  that  of  preserving  their  own 
genealogies.  The  study  of  geography  was  a  result  of  their 
conquests.  One  of  their  most  ancient  historical  productions 
was  the  biography  of  Mohammed,  composed  by  Mohammed 
b.  Ish4k  under  the  caliphate  of  Mansiir.  Wiliddf,  another 
author  of  the  8th  century  of  our  era,  compiled  a  history  of 
the  first  Jiloslem  conquests.  At  a  later  period,  Balddhorf 
wrote  on  the  same  subject  his  Kitdb  Fotuh  al-Bolddn.^ 
General  history  also  soon  became  a  subject  of  study,  and, 
vn  the  9th  century  after  Christ,  Ibn  Kotaiba  compiled 
kis  Kitdb  al-Mddrif^  a  treatise  on  universal  history.  In 
the  10th  century  two  great  historians  flourished,  Tabarl 
and  Mas'iidf,  by  the  first  of  whom  we  have  a  very  extensive 
chronicle,^  and  by  the  second  a  general  history,  entitled 
Moriij  al-Dhakah  (see  MAs'uDf).  After  them  came  a  perfect 
galaxy  of  well-known  historians  and  biographers,  such  as 
Eamza  of  Isfahdn,  Ibn  al-Tiktak;i,  Nowairi,  Makrlzi,  Abii 
'1-Fidd,  Abii  '1-Faraj,  Al-Makln.'lbn  al-AthIr,  Soyuti,  and  Ibn 
Kljaldiin,'  not  to  speak  of  many  others  who  compiled  local 
chronicles  and  histories,  such  as  those  of  Mecca,  Medina, 
Damascus,  and  Baghdad.  As  biographers,  Kawawf  and 
Ibn  Khallilf.An  "  are  celebrated.  The  history  of  physicians 
and  philosophers,  by  Ibn  Abl  Osaibiya,  deserves  to  be 
placed  in  the  first  rank,  side  by  side  with  the  history  of 
religions  and  sects  by  ShahrastAniJ 

The  Moslems  were  not  less  active  in  the  study  of  geo- 
graphy. In  the  9th  century,  Ya'lciibi  wrote  his  Kitdb 
al-Bolddn,  or  Book  of  Countries,  in  which  he  described 
the  principal  cities  of  the  Moslem  empire.^  After  Mm, 
Ibn    Khordidhbeh    comjiosed    his   Kitdb   al-Masdlik  wal- 


'  Translated  from  the  Arabic  by  KnatcbbuU. 

'  Edited  by  Da  Goejo  (LcyJcn,  1SG6). 

'  Edited  by  Wiistcufeld  (Gottingen,  1850). 

*  la  course  of  publication  at  Loydon,  edited  by  Da  Goejo,  %vitb  tliQ 
assistance  of  J.  Earth,  Th.  Noldeko,  P.  do  Jong,  E.  Prym,  II. 
Tliorbeckc,  S.  FrKultcl,  I.  Guidi,  D.  H.  Slliller,  M,  Th.  Houtsma, 
S.  <     yard,  and  V.  Rosen. 

*  -llost  of  these  have  been  published  by  Gottwaldt,  Ahlwardt, 
Keiske,  Pocock,  Erpenius,  Tombcrg. 

*  The  former  has  been  edited  by  Wiistonfeld  (Gottingen,  1842-47), 
the  latter  translated  into  English  by  Mac  Guokiu  de  Slaue  (Lond. 
1343-71). 

'  Published  by  Curoton  (Lond.  1842-46),  and  translated  into 
Carman  by  HaarbrdckiT  (Halle,  1850-51). 

«  Edited  by  A.  W.  Th.  JuynboU  aud  Do  Goejo  aeydcn,  3SG0-61). 


Mamdlik,  or  Book  of  Roads  and  Provinces,  in  which  Lis 
principal  object  is  to  point  out  the  different  routes,  and 
to  give  an  account  of  the  revenues  derived  from  every 
province.'  His  contemporary  Kod-Wa  soon  after  published 
his  treatise  on  the  work  ox  clerks,  in  which,  after  a  notice 
of.  the  various  government  offices,  he  gives  a  descriptiou 
of  the  provinces  of  the  empire  witih  an  account  of  the 
post-routes,  their  stages  and  distances,  and  of  the  revenues 
of  each  province.  AJimed  b.  Ab(  Ya'kilb  al-Ya'kiibl  wrdte 
a  description  of  Asia  Minor  and  Ifrll.dya.  Several  of 
the  writings  of  the  historian  Mas'iidl  also  afford  highly 
valuable  information  on  geography.  To  Yikut  we  owe  a 
great  geographical  dictionary  under  the  title  of  Mo'jam 
al-Bolddn}"  Lastly,  Istakhrl,  Ibn  Hauljal,  Mokaddasf, 
B^riini,  Bakrf,  Zamakhshari,  Edrisf,  and  Abii  'l-I'idi 
have  left  us  important  treatises,  narratives  of  travels,  and 
geographical  dictionaries.^'  Among  the  literatureof  voyages 
and  travels  we  must  also  mention  ihe  curious  Chain  of 
Histories  associated  with  the  name  of  the  merchant 
Solaimdn  and  the  narratives  of  Ndsui  Khosru,!^  of  Ibn 
Jobanr,"  and  of  Ibn  Bati)ta  (q.v.). 

The  sciences  connected  with  geography,  such  as  astro- 
nomy and  cosmography,  were  also  cultivated  by  the 
Moslems.  As  early  as  the  reign  of  Mansiir,  the  Sanscrit 
treatise  on  astronomy  entitled  Siddhanta  had  been  trans- 
lated into  Arabic,  Under  Ma'miin,  two  observatories  wcro 
founded,  one  at  BaghdAd,  the  other  at- Damascus,  and 
two  degrees  of  the  terrestrial  meridian  were  measured  by 
order  of  that  Caliph.  Al-Khirizml,  librarian  to  Ma'miin, 
composed  his  Basm  al-Ard,  or  configuration  of  the  earth, 
in  which  the  name  of  every  place  was  accompanied  by  it.9 
latitude  and  longitude.  Astronomical  tables  were  drawn  up 
by  Yahya,  Habash,  Abd  Ma'shar  (Abumazar),  and  Al-BattAnf 
(Albategni).  Treatises  on  astronomy  were  composed  by  Al- 
Fargh.4ni  and  Al-Kindl.  AJ-Battdni,  of  whom  we  have 
just  spoken,  was  the  author  of  important  works  on  ,tho 
obliquity  of  the  eclij^tio  and  on  the  precession  of  the  equi- 
noxes. We  may  m»ntion  in  the  last  place  the  curious 
writings  of  Dimashkf  and  Kazwinf  on  general  cosmography, 
embracing  several  physical  sciences.''' 

The  study  of  mathematics  was  carried  very  far.  The 
Moslems  not  only  received  arithmetic,  geometry,  trigo- 
nometry, and  algebra  from  the  Greeks  and  Hindus,  but 
themselves  gave  a  further  development  to  those  sciences. 
The  works  of  Al-KhArizmf  served  as  guides  to  those 
learned  men  in  Europe  who  first  turned  their  attention  to 
algebra  in  the  16th  century .- 

The  sciences  of  physics  and  chemistry,  on  the  other 
hand,  remained  in  their  infancy.  In  physical  science  we 
can  only  mention  a  few  works  on  Optics.  As  for  Music, 
its  study  was  limited  to  the  practical,  and  though  we  may 
name  the  important  treatise  of  AJ-Fiirdbl  on  the  theory  of 
Music — a  treatise  itself  drawn  entirely  from  Greek  souice.* 
— we  must  acknowledge  that  Acoustics,  properly  so  called, 
are  not  at  all  taken  into  consideration  by  him.  Chemistrj', 
considered  as  an  exact  science,  continued  unkno\vn  to  the 
Moslems ;  yet  they  cultivated  Alchemy  with  eagerness,  in 
their  search  after  the  transmutation  of  metals,  and 
Alchemy  is  the  mother  of  Chcmistiy.  Medicine,  in  the 
hands  of  the  Arabs,  remained  such  as  they  had  borrowed 
it  from  the  Greeks.  As  their  religion  forbade  dissection, 
the  Moslems  were  never  able  to  rise  above  a  rude  empiri- 
cism.    They  contented  themselves  with  adding  to  their 


;niphy. 


Matbt 

niatics. 


ri-.yslc* 

MieUM, 


'  Published  and  translated  by  Barbier  de  Meynard. 

'»  Edited  by  ■VVUstcnfeld  (Leipzig,  1806-70). 

"  PuUi.shed,  and  some  translated,  by  De  Goejo,  Sachan,  WUslonfcld, 
Do  Grare,  Jaubcrt,  Dozy,  Antari  and  Scliiaparelli,  lUinaud,  and  De 
Slane.    Tho  last  voluino  of  Abi  '1-FiJi'a  Gcograjihy  is  now  in  the  press. 

1=  Published  and  translated  by  Schcfer  (Paris,  1831). 

IS  Edited  hy  W.  Wright  (Leydcn,  1852). 

"  Published  and  translated  by  Mchrcn,  W'ustcnfcld,  and  Ethi 


fCOlOCEItCE.] 


I\I  0  H  A  M  M  E  D  A  N  I  S  M 


597 


own  prescriptionSi  whicli  they  pretended  to  have  received 
from  the  Prophet,  those  of  the  Greek  physicians.  The 
works  of  Avicenna  prove  this ;  and  Ibn  al-BaitAr's  treatise 
on  the  pharmacoposia  ako  shovrs  how  small  a  part  observa- 
tion played  in  Arabian  medicine.^  Zoology,  botany,  and 
mineralogy  made  no  greater  progress ;  but  they  were  at 
least  among  the  subjects  which  attracted  the  attention  of 
learned  Moslems.  The  great  treatise  by  Damirl,  entitled 
Hay  at  al-Haiwdn,  or  Life  of  Animals,  is  of  interest  mainly 
from  the  legends  it  contains ;  ^  and  the  treatise  on  miner- 
alogy by  Taifashi  interests  ns  principally  by  the  details  it 
gives  on  the  origin  of  precious  stones  and  the  art  of  cutting 
them.  It  yrouJd  be  unjust  to  conclude  this  sketch  without 
adding  that  the  Moslems  possess  also  a  great  number  of 
technical  treatises  on  the  art  of  war,  on  military  engines, 
and  the  Greek  fire,  on  falconry  and  hunting,  and  on 
certain  industries,  such  as  those  of  glass,  pottery,  and 
metals.  They  have  also  written  on  magic,  on  the  inter- 
pretation of  dreams,  and  on  sleight  of  hand.  These  works 
have  as  yet  been  very  little  investigated.  We  shall  no 
doubt  find  in  them  interesting  revelations  on  the  history 
of  the  industrial  arts,  and  on  the  history  of  superstitions. 
'■-.  With  an  empire  so  vast  as  that  of  the  Moslems,  we  may 
easily  conceive  how  extensive  their  commerce  and  industry 
must  have  been,  Commerce.had  at  all  times  been  held  in 
honour  by  the  Arabs.  Long  before  the  days  of  Mohammed, 
the  Koraish  annually  sent  caravans,  laden  with  all  the 
products  of  Yemen,  into  Syria.  Maritime  commerce  also 
was  already  flourishing  in  Chaldaja  in  the  5th  century  of 
our  era.  The  city  of  Hlra  was  frequented  by  ships  coming 
from  the  Red  Sea,  from  India,  and  even  from  China. 
Obolla  was  the  emporium  for  the  merchandise  of  India. 
It  was  principally  thither  that  teakwood  was  brought, 
which  served  for  the  construction  of  ships  and  houses. 
Thus  the  Arabs,  when  they  conquered  Chald^a,  found 
maritime  commerce  in  full  activity  there,  and  took  advan- 
tage of  it.  Under  the  'Abbdsids,  Basra  supplanted  Hlra 
and  OboUa,  and  became  the  principal  port.  The  history 
of  Sindibid  (Sinbad  the  Sailor)  shows  how  active  foreign 
commerce  was  under  the  'Abbdsids,  and  with  what  courage 
the  Arab  sailors  confronted  danger.  Moslem  colonies  were 
established  all  along  the  coasts  of  Persia  and  India,  and 
Moslem  voyagers  did  not  fear  to  venture  as  far  as  the 
China  Seas.  On  the  West,  the  cormncrcial  movement 
was  not  less  active.  Caravans  laden  with  the  products  of 
Spain  left  Tangier,  traversed  the  whole  of  Northern  Africa, 
and  reached  Syria,  Arabia,  and  Mesopotamia.  Others 
passed  through  Asia  Minor,  Armenia,  Persia,  Khorisin, 
and  TurkestAn,  as  far  as  the  frontiers  of  China,  while  the 
route  of  others  again  was  along  the  eastern  coast  of  Africa, 
whence  they  brought  back  ivory  and  bla6k  slaves.  Thus 
the  silks  of  China,  and  the  spices,  camphor,  steel,  and 


precious  woods  of  India,  were  poureu  into  the  empire , 
while  the  Moslems  exported  their  glass,  their  dates,  their 
cotton  stuffs,  their  refined  sugar,  and  their  wrought  tools, 
to  those  countries.  The  manufacture  of  glass  was  an  .'I, ■;.•■■( . 
industry  of  old  standing  among  them.  The  glass  of  Syria  '"'^ 
was  celebrated,  and  we  know  that  flint-glass  and  enamels 
were  ako  made  at  Baghdid.  Dates  were  cultivated  prin- 
cipally in  the  neighbourhood  of  Basra,  and  also  in  Persia 
and  Khdzistin.  Refined  sugar  also  came  from  the  coast 
of  Persia.  As  regards  steel,  the  manufacture  of  armour 
and  weapons  was  the  speciality  of  the  people  of  'L-dlf,  of 
Bahrain,  of  "Om.^n,  and  of  Yemen.  The  Syrians  had  ths 
credit  of  forging  excellent  sword-blades.  In  Syria  t;o 
were  made  mirrors  of  polished  steel.  The  weaving  oi 
various  stuffs  formed  an  important  branch  of  industry. 
The  striped  stuffs  of  Yemen,  and  the  tissues  of  Baghdad, 
Herit,  Tawwaj,  and  FasA,  enjoyed  a  high  repute.  Damas- 
cus was  renowned  for  the  silk  fabrics  which  have  taken 
their  name  from  that  city.  The  silks  of  Yemen,  of  Egypt, 
and  of  Cufa,  had  also  a  high  reputation.  Timis  produced 
gauze,  and  muslin  figured  with  gold.  Egypt  manufactured 
brocade,  Armenia  supplied  satin.  The  carpet  manufacture 
imder  the  Caliphs  had  already  reached  the  excellence 
which  it  has  maintained  to  our  own  days.  At  that  time 
the  carpets  most  valued  came  from  FArsistan  and  Tabaric- 
tAn.  Jewellery  and  trinkets  found  numerous  outlets,  as 
may  be  supposed.  This  traffic  was  principally  carried  on 
in  the  East  by  the  Jews. 

We  know  that  the  religion  of  the  Prophet  forbade  any  Art 
representation  of  the  human  figure.  This  prohibition  does 
not  appear  to  have  been  long  observed,  for  we  find  that 
the  walls  of  palaces  and  of  the  houses  of  the  rich  were 
covered  with  paintings.  There  was  a  school  of  painting 
at  Basra,  and  a  historian  gives  us  the  names  of  two  painters 
of  high  celebrity  in  their  art — Ibn  'Aziz  and  Kosair. 

The  manufacture  of  paper  was  carried  on  very  extensively,' 
a  fact  which  is  easily  explained  when  we  think  of  the  liter- 
ary activity  of  the  Moslems.  The  Arabs  originally  used 
parchment.  For  this,  after  the  conquest  of  Egypt,  they 
substituted  papyrus,  which  was  itself  supplanted  by  paper, 
when  the  Arabs  had  opened  communications  with  China. 
Paper  mills  were  established  in  several  of  the  provinces, 
and  at  Baghddd  itself.  Simultaneously  with  the  appear- 
ance of  this  precious  substance,  the  art  of  binding  became 
one  of  the  most  flourishing  industries,  as  did  also  the  trades 
of  the  shoemaker,  the  saddler,  and  the  dyer,  etc.  etc. 
Retail  commerce,  lastly,  undertook  the  distribution  of  the 
products  of  agriculture  and  industry.  In  almost  all  the 
cities  of  the  empire  markets  were  held,  where  the  fruiterer 
and  grocer  {Bakkdl),  the  butcher  (Jazsdr),  the  armourer 
{Saikal),  the  bookseller  (Warrdk),  and  the  druggist  and 
perfumer  ('Attdr),  offered  their  wares  for  sale.^    (st.  g.) 


PART  III.— THE   KORAN. 


The  Koran  (Ko'rAn)  is  the  foundation  of  Islam.  It  is  the 
sacred  book  of  more  than  a  hundred  millions  of  men,  some 
of  them  nations  of  immemorial  civilization,  by  all  w.hom  it  is 
regarded  as  the  immediate  word  of  God.  And  since  the 
use  of  the  Koran  in  public  worship,  in  schools  and  other- 
wise, is  much  more  extensive  than,  for  example,  the  reading 
of  the  Bible  in  most  Christian  countries,  it  has  been  truly 
described  as  the  most  widely-read  book  in  existence.  This 
circumstance  alone  is  sufficient  to  give  it  an  urgent  claim 
on  our  attention,  whether  it  suit  our  taste  and  fall  in  with 
our  religious  and  philosophical  views  or  not.  Besides,  it 
is  the  work  of  Mohammed,  and  as  such  is  fitted  to  afford 


The  treatise  has  been  translated  into  French  by  Dr.  Leclerc. 
Printed  at  Bdldk,  A.H.  1292. 


a  clue  to  the  spiritual  development  of  that  most  successful 
of  all  prophets  and  religious  personalities.  It  must  be 
owned  that  the  first  perusal  leaves  on  a  European  an  im- 
pression of  chaotic  confusion, — not  that  the  book  is  so  very 
extensive,  for  it  is  not  quite  so  large  as  the  New  Testament. 
This  impression  can  in  some  degree  be  modified  only  by  the 
application  of  a  critical  analysis  with  the  assistance  of 
Arabian  tradition. 

To  the  faith  of  the  Moslems,  as  has  been  said,  the  Koran 
is  the  word  of  God,  and  such  also  is  the  claim  which  the 
book  itself  advances.      For  except  in  sur.  i. — which  is 


'  For  further  information  on  Moslem  civilization,  see  Kremei'a 
important  work,  CuUurgeschichU  (Us  OriiiUi  unter  den  CAaltfen, 
Vienna,  1875-77. 


598 


MOHAMMEDANISM 


[ko&as. 


;a  j)rayer  for  men^and  some  few  passages  wnere  Moham- 
med (vi.  104,  Hi;  xxv'n.  93;  xlii.  8),  or  the  angels 
(xlx.  65  ;  xxxvii.  164  sqq.),  speak  in  the  first  person  without 
the  intervention  of  the  usual  imperative  "say"  (sing,  or 
pi.),  the  speaker  throughout  is  God,  either  in  the  first 
person  singular,  or  more  commonly  the  plural  of  majesty 
"  we."  The  same  mode  of  address  is  familiar  to  us  from 
the  prophets  of  the  Old  Testament ;  the  human  personality 
disappears,  in  the  moment  of  inspiration,  behind  the  God 
by  whom  it  is  filled.  But  all  the  greatest  of .  the  Hebrew 
prophets  fall  back  speedily  upon  the  unassuming  human 
"I";  while  in  the  Koran  the  divine  "  I "  is  the  stereotyped 
.v.on«m-  form  of  address.  Mohammed,  however,  really  felt  him- 
ii)ed's  self  to  be  the  instrument  of  God ;  this  consciousness  was 
view  of  jjQ  doubt  -brighter  at  his  first  appearance  than  it  afterwards 
lion.  '  b*c^™6,  but  it  never  entirely  forsook  him.  We  might 
therefore  readily  pardon  him  for  giving  out,  not  only  the 
results  of  imaginative  and  emotional  excitement,  but  ako 
many  expositions  or  decrees  which  were  the  outcome  of 
cool  calculation,  as  the  word  of  God,  if  he  had  only 
attained  the  pure  moral  altitude  which  in  an  Isaiah  or  a 
Jeremiah  fills  us  with  admiration  after  the  lapse  of  ages. 

The  rationale  of  revelation  is  explained  in  the  Koran  itself 
'as  follo^vs  : — In  heaven  is  the  original  text  ("  the  mother 
of  the  book,"  xliii.  3  ;  "a  concealed  book,"  Iv.  77  ;  "a  well- 
guarded  tablet,"  Ixxxv.  22).     By  a  process  of  "sending 
down  "  (laiizil),  one  piece  after  another  was  communicated 
to  the  Prophet.     The  mediator  was  an  angel,  who  is  called 
sometimss  the  "Spirit"  (xxvi.  193),  sometimes  the  "holy 
Spirit"  (xvi.  104),  and  at  a  later  time  "Gabriel"  (ii.  9l). 
This  angel   dictates  the  revelation  to  the  Prophet,  who 
repeats  it  after  him,  and  afterwards  proclaims  it  to  the 
world  (bcxxvii.  6,  etc.).    It  is  plain  that  we  have  here  a  some- 
what crude  attempt -of  the  Prophet  to  represent  to  himself 
the  more  or  less  unconscious  process  by  which  his  ideas 
arose  and  gradually  took  shape  in  his.  mind.     It  is  no 
wonder  if  in  such  confused  imagery  the  details  are  not 
always  self-consistent.     When,  for  example,  this  heaveidy 
archetype  is  said  to  be  in  the  hands  of  an  exalted  "  scribe  " 
(Ixxx.  13  sqq.),  this  seems  a  transition  to  a  quite  different 
BPt  of  ideas,  namely,  the  books  of  fate,  or  the  record  of  all 
human  actions — conceptions  which  are  actually  found  in 
the    Koran.     It    is    to   be  observed,   at   all   events,   that 
Mohammed's  transcendental  idea  of  God,  as  a  Being  exalted 
altogether  above  the  world,  excludes  the  thought  of  direct 
intercourse  between  the  Prophet  and  God. 
Compon-      It  is  an  explicit  statement  of  the  Koran  that  the  sacred 
tut  puis  book  was  revealed  ("sent  down")  by  God,  not  all  at  once, 
Ko«i.     ^"^  P^^'=®™'5al  and  gradually  (xxv.   34).     This  is  evident 
from  the  actual  composition  of  the  book,  and  is  confirmed 
by  Moslem  tradition.     That  is  to  say,  Mohammed  issued 
his  revelations  in  fly-leaves  of  greater  or  less  extent.     A 
single  piece  of  this  kind  was  called  either,  Uke  the  entire 
collection,    ko'rdn,    i.e.    "recitation"    or    "readinf;"   or 
Idtdb,    "writing;"    or   stira,    which    is    the    late-Hebrew 
eUdra,  and  means  literally  "series."     The  last  became,  in 
the  lifetime  of  Mohammed,  the  regular  designation  of  the 
individual  sections  as  distinguished  from  the  whole  col- 
lection ;  and  accordingly  it  is  the  name  given  to  the  sepa- 
rate chapters  of  the  existing  Koran.     These  chapters  are 
of  very  unequal  length.     Since  many  of  the  shorter  ones 
are  undoubtedly  complete  in  themselves,  it  is  natural  to 
assume  that  the  longer,  which  are  sometimes  very  compre- 
hensive, have  arisen  from   the  amalgamation  of   various 
originally  distinct  revelations.    This  supposition  is  favoured 
,by  the  numerous  traditions  which  give  us  the  circumstances 
nnder  v.-hich  this  or  that  short  piece,  now  incorporated  in 
a  larger  section,  was  revealed ;   and  also  by  the  fact  that 
the  connection  of  thought  in  the  present  siiras  often 


s\iras  have  to  be  severed  out  as  originally  independent ; 
even  in  the  short  ones  parts  are  often  found  which  cannot 
have  been  there  at  first.  At  the  same  time  we  must 
beware  of  carrying  this  sifting  operation  too  far, — as 
Noldeke  now  believes  himself  to  have  done  in  his  eailier 
works,  and  as  Sprenger  also  sometimes  seems  to  do. 
That  some  silras  were  of  considerable  length  from  the 
first  is  seen,  for  example,  from  xii.,  which  contains 
a  short  introduction,  then  the  history  of  Joseph,  and 
then  a  few  concluding  observations,  and  is  therefore  per- 
fectly homogeneous.  In  like  manner,  xx.,  which  is  mainly 
occupied  with  the  history  of  Moses,  forms  a  complete 
whole.  The  same  is  true  of  xviii.,  which  at  first  sight 
seems  to  fall  into  several  pieces ;  the  history  of  the  seven 
sleepers,  the  grotesque  narrative  about  Moses,  and  that 
about  Alexander  "  the  Horned,"  are  all  connected  together, 
and  the  same  rhyme  runs  through  the  whole  etlra.  Even 
in  the  separate  narrations  we  may  observe  how  readily  the 
Koran  passes  from  one  subject  to  another,  how  little  care 
is  taken  to  express  all  the  transitions  of  thought,  and  hov/ 
frequently  clauses  are  omitted,  which  are  almost  indispens- 
able. We  are  not  at  liberty,  therefore,  in  every  case  where 
the  connection  in  the  Koran  is  obscure,  to  say  that  it  is 
really  broken,  and  set  it  down  as  the  clumsy  patchwork  of 
a  later  hand.  Even  in  the  old  Arabic  poetry  such  abrupt 
transitions  are  of  very  frequent  occurrence.  It  is  not 
uncommon  for  the  Koran,  after  a  new  subject  has  been 
entered  on,  to  return  gradually  or  suddenly  to  the  former 
theme, — a  proof  that  there  at  least  separation  is  not  to  be 
thought  of.  In  short,  however  imperfectly  the  Koran  may 
have  been  redacted,  in  the  majority  of  cases  the  prei-ciit 
suras  are  identical  with  the  originals. 

How  these  revelations  actually  arose  in  Mohammed's 
mind  is  a  question  wliich  it  is  almost  as  idle  to  discU'T  as 
it  would  be  to  analyse  the  workings  of  the  mind  of  a  poet. 
In  his  early  career,  sometimes  perhaps  in  its  later  stages 
also,  many  revelations  must  have  burst  from  him  in  uncon- 
trollable excitement,  so  that  he  could  not  possibly  regard 
them  otherwise  than  as  divine  inspirations.  We  must 
bear  in  mind  that  he  was  no  cold  systematic  thinker,  but 
an  Oriental  visionary,  brought  up  in  crass  superstition, 
and  mthout  intellectual  discipline ;  a  man  whose  ner-i  ous 
temperament  had  been  powerfully  worked  on  by  ascetic 
austerities,  and  who  was  all  the  more  irritated  by  the 
opposition  he  encountered,  because  he  had  little  of  the 
heroic  in  his  nature.  Filled  with  his  religious  ideas  and 
visions,  he  might  weU  fancy  he  heard  the  angel  bidding 
him  recite  what  was  said  to  him.  There  may  have  been 
many  a  revelation  of  this  kind  which  'no  one  ever  heard 
but  himself,  as  he  repeated  it  to  himself  in  the  silence  of 
the  night  (Ixxiii.  4).  Indeed  the  Koran  itself  admits 
that  he  forgot  some  revelations  (Ixxxvii.  7).  But  by  far  tho 
greatest  part  of  the  book  is  undoubtedly  the  result  of  deli- 
beration, touched  more  or  less  with  emotion,  and  animated 
by  a  certain  rhetorical  rather  than  poetical  glow.  Many 
passages  are  based  upon  purely  intellectual  reflection.  It  ia 
said  that  Jlohammed  occasionally  uttered  such  a  passage  im- 
mediately after  one  of  those  epileptic  fits  which  not  only  his 
followers,  but  (for  a  time  at  least)  he  himself  also,  regarded 
as  tokens  of  intercourse  with  the  higher  powers.  If  that 
is  the  case,  it  is  impossible  to  say  whether  the  trick  was 
in  the  utterance  of  tho  revelation  or  in  the  fit  itself. 

How  the  various  pieces  of  the  Koran  took  literary  forr;  r' 
is  imcertain.     Mohammed  himself,  so  far  as  wo  can  dis-  K 
cover,  never  wrote  down  anything.     The  question  whethei-^" 
h(j  could  read  and  write  has  been  much  debated  amcn;^ 
ifoslcms,   unfortunately  more  with   dogmatic   argumcLll 
and  spiu-ious  traditions  than  authentic  proofs.     At  present. 


»ri,«  .  i      A  T    '"     r  I"-^^^"'^"'-^^  »"<="  socms     one  is  inclined  to  say  that  he  was  not  altogether  il-noran 

to  be  interrupted,   ^d  m  reaLtj  many  pieces  of  the  long  I  of  these  arts,  but  that  from  want  of  pracCho  fouud  k 


Abro. 
gated 
Headi 


K0KAN.1 

convenient  to  employ  8ome  one  else  whenever  he  had  any- 
thing to  write.  After  the  flight  to  Medina  (a.d.  622)  we 
are  told  that  short  pieces — cliiefly  legal  decisions — were 
taken  down  immediately  after  they  were  revealed,  by  an 
adherent  whom  he  summoned  for  the  purpose;  so  that 
■othing  stood  in  the  way  of  their  publication.  Hence  it 
is  probable  that  in  Mecca,  where  the  art  of  writing  was 
commoner  than  in  Medina,  he  had  already  begun  to  have 
his  oracles  committed  to  writing.  That  even  long  portions 
of  the  Koran  existed  in  written  form  from  an  early  date 
■lay  be  pretty  safely  inferred  from  various  indications ; 
especially  from  the  fact  that  in  Mecca  the  Prophet  had 
caused  insertions  to  be  made,  and  pieces  to  be  erased  in 
his  previous  revelations.  For  we  cannot  suppose  that  he 
knew  the  longer  s\iras  by  heart  so  perfectly  that  he  was 
able  after  a  time  to  lay  his  finger  upon  any  particular 
passage.  In  some  instances,  indeed,  he  may  have  relied 
too  much  on  his  memory.  For  example,  he  seems  to  have 
occasionally  dictated  the  same  silra  to  different  persons  in 
slightly  different  terms.  In  such  cases,  no  doubt,  he  may 
Jiave  partly  intended  to  introduce  improvements ;  and  so 
long  as  the  difference  was  merely  in  expression,  without 
affecting  the  sense,  it  could  occasion  no  perplexity  to  his 
followers.  None  of  them  had  literary  pedantry  enough 
to  question  the  consistency  of  the  divine  revelation  on 
that  ground.  In  particular  instances,  however,  the  differ- 
once  of  reading  was  too  important  to  be  overlooked. 
Thus  the  Koran  itself  confesses  that  the  unbelievers  cast 
it  up  as  a  reproach  to  the  Prophet  that  God  sometimes 
.substituted  one  verse  for  another  (xvi.  103).  On  one 
occasion,  when  a  dispute  arose  between  two  of  his  own 
followers  as  to  the  true  reading  of  a  passage  which  both 
Lad  received  from  the  Prophet  himself,  Mohanuned  is  said 
to  have  explained  that  the  Koran  was  revealed  in  seven 
forms.  In  this  apparently  genuine  dictum  seven  stands,  of 
course,  as  in  many  other  cases,  for  an  indefinite  but  limited 
number.  But  one  may  imagine  what  a  world  of  trouble 
it  has  cost  the  Moslem  theologians  to  explain  the  saying 
in  accordance  with  their  dogmatic  beliefs.  A  great  num- 
ber of  explanations  are  curieut,  some  of  which  claim  the 
authority  of  the  Prophet  himself;  as,  indeed,  fictitious 
utterances  of  Mohammed  play  tliroughout  a  conspicuous 
part  in  the  exegesis  of  the  Koran.  One  very  favourite, 
but  utterly  untenable  interpretation  is  that  the  "  seven 
forms  "  are  seven  different  Arabic  dialects. 

\Vhen  such  discrepancies  came  to  the  cognisance  of 
Mohammed  it  was  doubtless  his  desire  that  only  one  of 
'•*  the  conflicting  texts  should  be  considered  authentic;  only 
he  never  gave  himself  much  trouble  to  have  his  wish 
carried  into  effect.  Although  in  theory  he  was  an  up- 
holder of  verbal  inspiration,  he  did  no|t  push  the  doctrine 
to  its  extreme  consequences ;  his  practical  good  sense  did 
not  take  these  things  so  strictly  as  the  theologians  of 
later  centuries.  Sometimes,  however,  he  did  suppress 
whole  sections  or  verses,  enjoining  his  followers  to  efface 
or  forget  them,  and  declaring  them  to  be  "abrogated." 
A  very  remarkable  case  is  that  of  the  two  verses  in  liii., 
when  he  had  recognised  three  heathen  goddesses  as 
exalted  beings,  possessing  influence  with  God.  {Supra, 
p.  549.) 

So  mucli  for  abrogated  readings  ;  the  case  is  somewhat 
different  when  we  come  to  the  abrogation  of  laws  and 
directions  to  the  Moslems,  which  often  occurs  in  the 
Koran.  There  is  nothing  in  this  at  variance  with 
Mohammed's  idea  of  God.  God  is  to  him  an  absplute 
despot,  who  declares  a  thing  right  or  \vrong  from  no 
inherent  necessity  but  by  his  arbitrary  fiat.  This  God 
Taries  his  commands  at  pleasure,  prescribes  one  law  for 
the  Christians,  another  for  the  Jews,  and  a  third  for  the 
Moslems ;  nay,  he  even  changes  his  instructions  to  the 


MOHAMMEDANISM 


599 


Moslems  when  it  pleases  him.  Thfis,  for  example,  the 
Koran  contains  verj-  different  directions,  suited  to  varying 
circumstances,  as  to  the  treatment  which  idolaters  are  to 
receive  at  the  hands  of  believers.  .  But  Mohammed  showed 
no  anxiety  to  have  these  superseded  enactments  destroyed. 
Believers  could  be  in  no  uncertainty  as  to  which  of  two  con- 
tradictory passages  remained  in  force  ;  and  they  might  still 
find  edification  in  that  which  had  become  obsolete.  That 
later  generations  might  not  so  easily  distinguish  ■'the 
"  abrogated "  from  the  "  abrogating  "  did  -  not  occur  tu 
Mohammed,  whose  vision,  naturally  enough,  seldom  ex- 
tended to  the  future  of  his  religious  community. ,  Current 
events  were  invariably  kept  in  view  in  the  revelations. 
In  Medina  it  called  forth  the  admiration  of  the  Faithful 
to-  observe  how  often  God  gave  them  the  answer  to  a 
■question  whose  settlement  was  urgently  required  at  the 
moment.  The  same  naivete  appears  in  a  remark  of  the 
Caliph  'Othmin  about  a  doubtful  case :  'If  the  Apostle 
of  Gfod  were  stUl  alive,  methinks  there  had  been  a  Koran 
passage  revealed  on  this  point."  Not  unfrequently  the 
divine  word  was  found  to  coincide  with  the  advice  which 
Mohammed  had  received  from  his  most  intimate  disciples. 
"  Omar  was  many  a  time  of  a  certain  opinion,"  says  one 
tradition,  "and  the  Koran  was  then  revealed  accordingly." , 

The  contents  of  the  different  parts  of  the  Koran  areConten* 
extremely  varied.  Many  passages  consist  of  theological  orof  tJ"; 
moral  reflections.  We  are  reminded  of  the  greatness,  the^'^""^ 
goodness,  the  righteousness  of  God  as  manifested  in  Nature, 
in  history,  and  in  revelation  through  the  prophets,  especially 
through  Mohammed.  God  is  magnified  as  the  One,  the 
All-powerful  Idolatry  and  all  deification  of  created  beings, 
such  as  the  worship  of  Christ  as  the  Son  of  God,  are  un- 
sparingly condemned.  The  joys  of  heaven  and  the  pains 
of  hell  are  depicted  in  vivid  sensuous  imagery,  as  is  also 
the  terror  of  the  whole  creation  at  the  advent  of  the  last 
day  and  the  judgment  of  the  world.  Believers  receive 
general  moral  instruction,  as  well  as  directions  for  special 
circumstances.  The  lukewarm  are  rebuked,  the  enemies 
threatened  with  terrible  punishment,  both  temporal  and 
eternal.  To  the  sceptical  the  truth  of  Islam  is  held  forth ; 
and  a  certain,  not  very  cogent,  method  of  demonstration 
predominates.  In  many  passages  the  sacred  book  falls  into 
a  diffuse  preaching  style,  others  seem  more  like  proclama- 
tions or  general  orders.  A  great  number  contain  ceremonial 
or  civil  laws,  or  even  special  commands  to  individuals  down 
to  such  matters  as  the  regulation  of  Mohammed's  harem.' 
In  not  a  few,  definite  questions  are  answered  which  had 
actually  been  propounded  to  the  Prophet  by  believers  or 
infidels.  Mohammed  himself,  too,  repeatedly  receives  direct 
injunctions,  and  does  not  escape  an  occasional  rebuke.  Ona 
siira  (i.)  is  a  prayer,  two  (cxiii.,  cxiv.)  are  magical  formulas.* 
Mafiy  suras  treat  of  a  single  topic,  others  embrace  several.!^ 

From  the  mass  of  material  comprised  in  the  Koran — and  Kari»» 
the  account  we  have  given  is  far  from  exhaustive — we''i''ea. 
should  select  the  histories  of  the  ancient  prophets  i\.a^\ 
saints  as  possessing  a  peculiar  interest.  The  purpose  oi 
Mohammed  is  to  show  from  these  histories  how  God  in 
former  times  had  rewarded  the  righteous,  and  punished 
their  enemies.  For  the  most  part  the  old  prophets  only 
serve  to  introduce  a  little  variety  in  point  of  form,  for  they 
are  almost  in  every  case  facsimiles  of  Mohammed  himself. 
They  preach  exactly  like  him,  they  have  to  bring  the  very 
same  charges  against  their  opponents,  who  on  their  part 
behave  exactly  as  the  unbelieving  inhabitants  of  Mecca. 
The  Koran  even  goes  so  far  as  to  make  Noah  contend 
against  the  worship  of  certain  false  gods,  mentioned  by 
name,  who  were  worshipped  by  the  Arabs  of  Mohammed's 
time.  .  In  an  address  which  is  put  in  the  mouth  of  Abra 
ham  (xxvi.  75  sqq.)  the  reader  quite  forgets  that  it  i.; 
Abraham, 'and  not  Mohammed  (or  God  hunself)'who  ia 


600 


3^,  O  H  A  M  M  E  D  A  N  I  S  M. 


[kohan. 


s 


Eehtios 
to  the 

Old  U!;.\ 

Now  T<  '■■ 
twueni— 


speaking.  Other  narratives  are  intended  rather  for  amuse- 
ment, although  they  are  always  well  seasoned  with  edifying 
phrases.  It  is  no  wonder  that  the  godless  Koraishites 
thought  these  stories  of  the  Koran  not  nearly  so  entertain- 
ing as  those  of  Rostam  and  Ispandiar  related  by  Nadr  the 
son  of  Hiirith,  who  had  learned  on  the  Euphrates  the 
heroic  mythology  of  the  Persians.  But  the  Prophet  was 
so  exasperated  by  this  rivaliy  that  when  Nadr  fell  into  his 
power  after  the  battle  of  Badr,  he  caused  him  to  be  executed ; 
although  in  all  other  cases  he  readily  pardoned  his  fellow- 
countrj'men. 

These  histories  are  chiefly  about  Scriptm-e  characters, 
especially  those  of  the  Old  Testament.  But  the  deviations 
from  the  Biblical  narratives  are  very  marked.  Many  of 
the  alterations  are  found  in  the  legendary  anecdotes  of  the 
Jewish  Haggada  and  the  New  Testament  Apocrypha ;  but 
many  moVe  are  due  to  misconceptions  such  as  only  a  listener 
(not  the  reader  of  a  book)  coiild  fall  into.  The  most  igno- 
rant Jew  could  never  have  mistaken  Haman  (the  minister 
of  Ahasuerus) .  for  the  minister  of  Pharaoh,  or  identified 
Miriam  the  sister  of  Moses  with  Mary  ( =  Miriam)  the 
mother  of  Christ.  In  addition  to  such  misconceptions 
there  are  sundry  capricious  alterations,  some  of  them  very 
'grotesque,  due  to  Mohammed  himself.  For  instance,  in 
his  ignorance  of  everything  out  of  Arabia,  he  .makes  the 
fertility  of  Egypt — where  rain  is  almost  never  seen  and  never 
missed — depend  on  rain  instead  of  the  inundations  of  the 
Nile  (xii.  49).  It  was  through  the  Jews  also  that  he 
borrowed  his  accotint  of  Ale.xander  "  the  Horned " ;  an 
epithet  which  is  to  be  explained,  after  old  Hettinger,  from 
the  great  multitude  of  coins  where  Alexander  is  represented 
with  the  ram's-horn  of  Ammon.  Besides  Jewish  and 
Christian  histories  there  are  a  few  about  oldi  Ai-abian 
prophets.  In  these  he  seems  to  have  handled  his  materials 
even  more  freely  than  in  the  others. 

The  opinion  has  already  been  expressed  that  Mohammed 
idid  not  make  use  of  written  sources.  Coincidences  and 
[divergences  alike  can  always  be  accounted  for  by  oral  com- 
munications from  Jews  who  knew  a  little  and  Christians 
(who  knew  next  to  nothing.  Even  in  the  rare  passages 
Avhere  we  can  trace  direct  resemblances  to  the  text  of  the 
Old  Testament  (comp.  xxi.  105  with  Ps.  xxxvii.  29 ;  i.  5  with 
Ps.  xxvii.  11)  or  the  New  (comp.  vii.  48  'n'ith  Luke  xvi.  24  ; 
xlvi.  19  with  Luke  xvi.  25),  there  is  notliing  more  than 
might  readily  have  been  picked  up  in  conversation  with 
any  Jew  or  Christian.  In  Medina,  where  he  had  the 
opportunity  of  becoming  acquainted  with  Jews  of  some 
culture,  he  learned  some  things  out  of  the  Mishna,  e.tj. 
V.  35  corresponds  almost  word  for  word  v.ith  Mishna  Sank. 
iV.  5;  compare  also  ii.  183  with  Mishna  Ber.  i.  2.  That 
these  are  only  cases  of  oral  communication  wiU  be  admitted 
by  any  on?v  with  ttt  slightest  knowledge  of  the  circum- 
stances. Other^vi3e  !\  e  might  even  conclude  that  Moham- 
med had  studied  the  Talmud ;  e.g.  the  regulation  as  to 
ablution  by  rubbing  with  sand,  where  water  cannot  be 
obtained  (iv.  4C),  corresponds  to  a  talmudic  ordinance 
{^Ber.  15  a).  Of  Christianity  he  can  have  been  able  to  learn 
very  little  even  in  Medina  ;  as  may  be  seen  from  the  absiu'd 
travesty  of  the  institution  of  the  Eucharist  in  v.  112  sqq. 
For  the  rest,  it  is  highly  improbable  that  before  the  Koran 
any  real  literary  production — anything  that  could  be 
strictly  called  a  book — existed  in  the  Arabic  language. 

In  point  of  style  and  artistic  effect,  the  different  parts 
of  the  Koran  are  of  very  unequal  value.  An  unprejudiced 
and  critical  reader  will  certainly  find  very  few  passages 
where  his  a'sthetic  susceptibilities  are  thoroughly  satisfied. 
But  he  will  often  bo  struck,  especially  in  the  older  pieces, 
by  a  wild  force  of  passion,  and  a  vigorous,  if  not  rich, 
imagination.  Descriptions  of  heaven  and  hell,  and  allu- 
sions to  God's  working  in  Nature,  hot  unfrequently  show 


a  certain  amount  of  poetic  power.  In  other  places  also 
the  style  is  sometimes  Uvely  and  impressive ;  though  it  is 
rarely  indeed  that  we  come  across  such  strains  of  touching 
simplicity  as  in  the  middle  of  xciii.  The  greater  part  of  the 
Koran  is  decidedly  prosaic ;  much  of  it  indeed  is  stiff  in  style. 
Of  course,  with  such  a  variety  of  material,  we  cannot  expect 
every  part  to  be  equally  vivacious,  or  imaginative,  or 
poetic.  A  decree  about  the  right  of  inheritance,  or  a 
point  of  ritual,  must  necessarily  be  expressed  in  prose,  if 
it  is  to  be  inteUigible.  No  one  complains  of  the  civil  lav.s 
in  Exodus  or  the  sacrificial  ritual  in  Leviticus,  becai'se 
they  want  the  fire  of  Isaiah  or  the  tenderness  of  Deuter- 
onomy. But  Mohammed's  mistake  consists  in  persistent 
End  slavish  adherence  to  the  semi-poetic  form  which  he 
had  at  first  adopted  in  accordance  with  his  own  taste  and 
that  of  his  hearers.  For  instance,  he  employs  rhyme  i  i 
deahng  with  the  most  prosaic  subjects,  and  thus  produce* 
the  disagreeable  effect  of  incongruity  between  style  and 
matter.  It  has  to  be  considered,  however,  that  many  of 
those  sermonizing  pieces  which  are  so  tedious  to  us,  especi- 
ally when  we  read  two  or  three  in  succession  (perhaps  in 
a  very  inadequate  translation),  ■  must  have  had  a  quit o 
different  effect  when  recited  under  the  burning  sky  anl 
on  the  barren  soil  of  Mecca.  There,  thoughts  about 
God's  gi'eatness  and  man's  duty,  which  are  familiar  to  «> 
from  childhood,  were  all  new  to  the  hearers — it  is  hearei ; 
we  have  to  think  of  in  the  first  instance,  not  readers — to 
whom,  at  the  same  time,  every  allusion  had  a  meanin.;.' 
which  often  escapes  oiu-  notice.  When  Mohammed  spoko 
of  the  goodness  of  the  Lord  in  creating  the  clouds,  and 
bringing  them  across  the  cheerless  desert,  and  pouring 
them  out  on  the  earth  to  restore  its  rich  vegetation,  that 
must  have  been  a  picture  of  thrilling  interest  to  the  Arabs, 
who  are  accustomed  to  see  from  three  to  five  years  elapse 
before  a  copious  shower  comes  to  clothe  the  wilderness 
once  more  with  luxuriant  pastures.  It  requires  an  effort 
for  us,  under  our  clouded  skies,  to  realize  in  some  degree; 
the  intensity  of  that  impression. 

The  fact  that  scraps  of  poetical  phi-aseology  are  spe- ' 
cially  numerous  in  the  earlier  siiras,  enables  us  to  undc  ■- 
stand  why  the  prosaic  mercantile  community  of  Mecca  ■ 
regarded  their  eccentric  to'svnsman  as  a  "  poet,"  or  even  a 
"possessed  poet."  Jlohammed  himself  had  to  disclaim 
such  titles,  because  he  felt  himself  to  be  a  divinely-inspired 
prophet ;  but  we  too,  from  our  standpoint,  shall  full;.' 
acquit  him  of  poetic  genius.  Like  many  other  predom'- 
nantly  religious  characters,  he  had  no  appreciation  of  poet -J 
beauty ;  and  if  we  may  believe  one  anecdote  related  of 
him,  at  a  time  when  every  one  made  verses  he  affected 
ignorance  of  the  most  elementary  rules  of  prosody.  Hero 
the  style  of  the  Koran  is  not  poetical  but  rhetorical ;  and, 
the  powerful  effect  which  some  portions  produce  on  us  is 
gained  by  rhetorical  means.  Accordingly  the  sacred  bool: 
lias  not  even  the  artistic  fonn  of  poetry ;  which,  among 
the  Arabs,  includes  a  stringent  metre,  as  well  as  rliymc. 
The  Koran  is  never  metrical,  and  only  a  few  exceptionally 
eloquent.portions  fall  into  a  sort  of  spontaneous  rhythm.  0'\ 
theother  hand,  the  rhyme  is  regularly  maintained ;  although, 
especially  in  the  later  pieces,  after  a  very  slovenly  fashion. 
Hhymed  prose  was  a  favourite  form  of  composition  among 
tlie  Arabs  of  that  day,  and  Jlohammed  adopted  it ;  but 
if  it  imparts  a  certain  sprightliness  to  some  passages,  it 
proves  on  the  whole  a  burdensome  yoke.  The  Moslems 
themselves  have  observed  that  the  tyranny  of  the  rhyme 
often  makes  itself  apparent  in  derangement  of  the  ordi  r 
of  words,, and  in  the  choice  of  verbal  forms  which  wouli 
not  otheiWise  have  been  employed ;  e.g.  an  imperfect  instead 
of  a  perfect.  In  one  place,  to  save  the  rhyme,  ho  cal'.< 
Mount  Sinai  S;n',:i  (xcv.  2)  instead  of  SlnCt  (xxiii.  20^  ; 
in  another  Elijah  is  called  Ilt/dsm  (xxxvii.  130)  instead  oi 


\1  lone 


KOEAN.J 


MOHAMMEDANISM 


601 


jf  the 


Hyds  (vL  85;  xxrrii.  123).  The  substance  even  is  nicxii- 
fiol  to  suit  exigencies  of  rhyme.  Thus  the  Proj-iiet  -would 
scarcely  have  fixed  on  the  unusual  number  of  eight  angels 
round  the  throne  of  God  (Ixix.  17)  if  the  word  thamdniyah, 
"eight,"  had  not  happened  to  fall  in  so  well  with  the 
rhyme.  And  when  Iv.  speaks  of  two  heavenly  gardens, 
each  with  txao  fountains  and  ttoo  kinds  of  fruit,  and  again 
of  tun  similar  gardens,  all  this  is  simply  because  the  dual 
termination  (<(»)  corresponds  to  the  syllable  that  controls 
the  rhyme  in  that  whole  siira.  In  the  later  pieces, 
Mohammed  often  inserts  edifying  remarks,  entirely  out  of 
keeping  with  the  context,  merely  to  complete  his  rh3rme. 
In  Arabic  it  is  such  an  easy  thing  to  accumulate  masses 
of  words  with  the  same  termination,  that  the  gross  negli- 
gence of  the  rhyme  in  the  Koran  is  doubly  remarkable. 
One  may  say  that  this  is  another  mark  of  the  Prophet's 
want  of  mental  training,  and  incapacity  for  introspective 
criticism. 

On  the  whole,  while  many  parts  of  the  Koran  tm- 
doubtedly  have  considerable  rhetorical  power,  even  over 
an  unbelieving  reader,  the  book,  aesthetically  considered, 
is  by  no  means  a  first-rate  performance.  To  begin  with 
what  we  are  most  competent  to  criticize,  let  us  look  at 
some  of  the  more  extended  narratives.  It  has  already 
been  noticed  how  vehement  and  abrupt  they  are  where 
they  ought  to  be  characterized  by  epic  repose.  Indispens- 
able links,  both  in  expression  and  in  the  sequence  of 
events,  are  often  omitted,  so  that  to  understand  these 
histories  is  sometimes  far  easier  for  us  than  for  those  who 
heard  them  first,  because  we  know  most  of  them  from 
better  sources.  Along  with  this,  there  is  a  great  deal  of 
superfluous  verbiage ;  and  nowhere  do  we  find  a  steady 
advance  in  the  narration.  Contrast  in  these  respects  the 
history  of  Joseph  (xii.)  and  its  glaring  improprieties,  with 
the  admirably-conceived  and  admirably-executed  story  in 
Genesis.  Similar  faults  are  found  in  the  non-narrative 
portions  of  the  Koran.  The  connexion  of  ideas  is 
extremely  loose,  and  even  the  syntax  betrays  great  awk- 
■wardness.  Anacolutha  are  of  frequent  occurrence,  and 
cannot  be  explained  as  conscious  literary  devices.  Many 
sentences  begin  with  a  "  when  "  or  "  on  the  day  when  " 
wiiich  seems  to  hover  in  the  air,  so  that  the  commentators 
are  driven  to  supply  a  "  think  of  this "  or  some  such 
ellipsis.  Again,  there  is  no  great  literary  skill  evinced  in 
the  frequent  and  needless  harping  on  the  same  words  and 
phrases ;  in  xviii.,  for  example,  "  till  that  '  {hatid  idhd) 
occurs  no  fewer  than  eight  times.  Mohammed,  in  short, 
is  not  in  any  sense  a  master  of  style.  This  opinion  will 
be  endorsed  by  any  European  who  reads  through  the 
book  with  an  impartial  spirit  and  some  knowledge  of  the 
Unguage,  without  taking  into  accoimt  the  tiresome  effect 
sf  its  endless  iterations.  But  in  the  ears  of  every  pious 
Moslem  such  a  judgment  wiU  sound  almost  as  shocking  as 
lownright  atheism  or  polj-theism.  Among  the  Moslems, 
the  Koran  has  always  been  looked  on  os  the  most  perfect 
model  of  style  and  language.  This  feature  of  it  is  in 
their  dogmatic  the  greatest  of  all  miracles,  the  incontest- 
able proof  of  its  divine  origin.  Such  a  view  on  the  part 
of  men  who  knew  Arabic  infinitely  better  than  the  most 
accomplished  European  Arabist  will  ever  do,  may  well 
startle  us.  In  fact,  the  Koran  boldly  challenged  its 
opponents  to  produce  ten  suras,  or  even  a  single  one,  like 
those  of  the  sacred, book,  and  they  never  did  so.  That, 
to  be  sure,  on  calm  reflexion,  is  not  so  very  surprising. 
Revelations  of  the  kind  which  Mohammed  uttered,  no 
unbeliever  could  produce  without  making  himself  a  laugh- 
ing-stock. However  little  real  originality  there  is  in 
Mohammed's  doctrines,  as  against  his  own  countrymen 
he  was  thoroughly  original,  even  in  the  form  of  his  oracles. 
To  compoce  such  revelatioas  at  will  was  beyond  the  rjower 

IG— 22* 


of  the  most  expert  literary  artist;  it  would  have  required 
either  a  prophet,  or  a  shameless  impostor.  And  if  such  a 
character  appeared  after  Mohammed,  still  he  could  never 
be  anything  but  an  imitator,  like  the  false  prophets  who 
arose  about  the  time  of  his  death  and  aftenvards.  That 
the  adversaries  should  produce  any  sample  whatsoever  of 
poetry  or  rhetoric  equal  to  the  Koran  is  not  at  all  what 
the  Prophet  demands.  In  that  case  he  would  have  been 
put  to  shame,  even  in  the  eyes  of  many  of  his  own 
followers,  by  the  first  poem  that  came  to  hand.  Never- 
theless, it  is  on  a  false  interpretation  of  this  challenge  that 
the  dogma  of  the  incomparable  excellence  of  the  style  and 
diction  of  the  Koran  is  based.  The  rest  has  been  accom- 
plished by  dogmatic  prejudice,  which  is  quite  capable  of 
working  other  miracles  besides  turning  a  defective  literary 
production  into  an  imrivalled  masterpiece  in  the  eyes  of 
believers.  This  view  once  accepted,  the  next  step  was  to 
find  everywhere  evidence  of  the  perfection  of  the  style  and 
language.  And  if  here  and  there,  as  one  can  scarcely 
doubt,  there  was  among  the  old  Moslems  a  lover  of  poetry 
who  had  his  difficulties  about  this  dogma,  he  had  C> 
beware  of  uttering  an  opinion  which  might  have  cost  him 
his  head.  We  know  of  at  least  one  rationalistic  theologiaa 
who  defined  the  dogma  in  such  a  way  that  we  can  see. 
he  did  not  beheve  it  (Shahrastinl,  p.  39).  The  truth  is, 
it  would  have  been  a  miracle  indeed  if  the  style  of  the 
Koran  had  been  perfect.  For  although  there  was  at  that 
time  a  recognized  poetical  style,  already  degenerating  to 
mannerism,  a  prose  style  did  not  exist.  All  beginnings 
are  difficult ;  and  it  can  never  be  esteemed  a  serious 
charge  against  Mohammed  that  his  book,  the  first  prose 
work  of  a  high  order  in  the  language,  testifies  to  the  awk- 
wardness of  the  beginner.  And  further,  we  must  always 
remember  that  entertainment  and  sesthetic  effect  were  at 
most  subsidiary  objects.  The  great  aim  was  persuasion 
and  conversion  ;  and,  say  what  we  will,  that  aim  has  been 
realized  on  the  most  imposing  scale. 

Mohammed  repeatedly  calls  attention  to  the  fact  that  the  Fcreiga 
Koran  is  not  written,  like  other  sacred  books,  in  a  strange  wordi. 
language,  but  in  Arabic,  and  therefore  is  intelligible  to 
all.  At  that  time,  along  ■nith  foreign  ideas,  many  foreign 
words  had  crept  into  the  language ;  especially  Aj-amaic 
terms  for  religious  conceptions  of  Jewish  or  Christian 
origin.  Some  of  these  had  already  passed  into  general 
use,  while  others  were  confined  to  a  more  limited  circle. 
Mohammed,  who  could  not  fuUy  express  his  new  ideas  in 
the  common  language  of  his  countrjrmen,  but  had  frequently 
to  find  out  new  terms  for  himself,  made  free  use  of  sucli 
Jewish  and  Christian  words,  as  was  done,  though  perhaps  to 
a  smaller  extent,  by  certain  thinkers  and  poets  of  that  age 
who  had  more  or  less  risen  above  the  level  of  heathenism. 
In  Mohammed's  case  this  is  the  less  wonderful,  because  he 
was  indebted  to  the  instruction  of  Jews  and  Christians 
whose  Arabic — as  the  Koran  pretty  clearly  intimates  with 
regard  to  one  of  them — was  very  defective.  Nor  is  it 
very  surprising  to  find  that  his  use  of  these  words  is  some- 
times as  much  at  fault  as  his  comprehension  of  the 
histories  which  he  learned  from  the  same  people — that  he 
applies  Aramaic  expressions  as  incorrectly  as  many  unedu- 
cated persons  now  employ  words  derived  from  the  French. 
Thus,  foi-yan  means  really  "  redemption,"  but  Mohammed 
(misled  by  the  Arabic  meaning  of  the  root  j_^  "sever," 

"decide")  uses  it  for  "revelation."  Milla  is  properly 
"  Word,"  but  in  the  Koran  "  religion."  UliyiU  (Ixxxiii. 
IS,  19)  is  apparently  the  Hebrew  name  of  God,  E/yon, 
"  the  Most  High  "  ;  Mohammed  uses  it  of  a  heavenly  book 
(see  S.  Fraenkel,  J)e  vocahulis  in  antiguis  Arabum  carmin- 
ibus  et  in  Corano  peregrinis,  Leyden,  ISSO,  p.  23).  So 
again  the  word  mcUhdni  is,  as  Geiger  has  conjectm-ed,  tha 


602 


M  O  H  A  M  M  E  D  A  iS   1  S  M' 


I  KORAN." 


re'nilar  plural  of  tlie  Aramaic  TimthnUhd,  which  is  the 
same  as  the  Hebrew  Miskna,  and  denotes,  in  Jewish  usage, 
a  leal  decision  of  some  of  the  ancient  Rabbins.  But  in 
the  Koran  "the  seven  Math&ni"  (xv.  87)  are  probably 
the  seven  verses  of  siira  i.,  so  that  Mohammed  appeai-s  to 
have  understood  it  in  the  sense  of  "saying,"  or  "sen 
tence"  (comp.  xxxix.  24).  Words  of  Christian  origin  are 
Jess  frequent  in  the  Koran.  It  is  an  interesting  fact 
tliat  tf  thesf;  a  few  have  come  over  from  the  Abyssinian  ; 
such  as  haivdrii/un,  "  apostles,"  mdida,  "  table,"  and  two 
or  three  others ;  these  all  make  their  first  appearance  in 
siiras  of  the  Medina  period.  The  word  shaitdn,  "Satan," 
w  uich  was  likewise  borrowed,  at  least  in  the  first  instance, 
from  the  Abyssinian,  had  probably  been  already  intro- 
duced into  the  language.  Sprenger  has  rightly  observed 
that  Mohammed  makes  a  certain  parade  of  these  foreign 
terms,  as  of  other  peculiarly  constructed  expressions ;  in 
tliis  he  followed  a  favourite  practice  of  contemporary  poets. 
It  is  the  tendency  of  the  imperfectly  educated  to  delight 
in  out-of-the-way  expressions,  and  on  such  minds  they 
readily  produce  a  remarkably  solemn  and  mysterious 
impression.  This  was  exactly  the  kind  of  effect  that 
Jfohammed  desired,  and  to  secure  it  he  seems  even  to 
have  invented  a  few  odd  vocables,  as  ghislin  (Ixix.  36), 
tijjin  (Lxx.xiii.  7,  8),  tasnim  (l.xxxiii.  27),  and  salsahil  (Ixxvi. 
18).  But,  of  course,  the  necessity  of  enabling  his  hearers 
to  understand  ideas  which  they  must  have  found  suffi- 
ciently novel  in  themselves,  imposed  tolerably  naiTOw 
limits  on  such  eccentricities. 
Dale  of  The  constituents  of  our  present  Koran  belong  partly  to 
tlieseve-  the  Mecca  period  (before  622  A.D.),  partly  to  the  period 
rri  parts,  ^.ommencing  with  the  flight  to  Medina  (from  the  autumn 
of  622  to  8th  June  632).  Mohammed's  position  in  Medina 
was  entirely  different  from  that  which  he  had  occupied  in 
his  native  to^vn.  In  the  former  he  was  from  the  first  the 
loader  of  a  powerful  party,  and  gradually  became  the 
autocratic  ruler  of  Arabia ;  in  the  latter  he  was  only  the 
despised  preacher  of  a  small  congregation.  This  difference, 
ns  was  to  be  expected,  appears  in  the  Koran.  The  Medina 
j'ieces,  whether  entire  siiras  or  isolated  passages  interpo- 
lated in  Meccan  siiras,  are  accordingly  pretty  broadly  dis- 
tinct, as  to  their  contents,  from  those  issued  in  Mecca. 
In  the  great  majority  of  cases  there  can  be  no  doubt  what- 
ever whether  a  piece  first  saw  the  light  in  Mecca  or  in 
Jledina ;  and  for  the  most  part  the  internal  evidence  is 
borne  out  by  Moslem  tradition.  And  since  the  revelations 
given  in  Medina  frequently  take  notice  of  events  about 
which  we  have  pretty  accurate  information,  and  whose 
dates  are  at  least  approximately  kn'.wn.  We  are  often  in  a 
position  to  fix  their  date  with  at  any  rate  considerable 
certainty  ;  here  again  tradition  rendera  valuable  assistance. 
Even  with  regard  to  the  Medina  passages,  however,  a  great 
deal  remains  uncertain,  partly  because  the  allusions  to 
historical  events  and  circumstances  are  generally  rather 
obscure,  partly  because  traditions  about  the  occasion  of 
the  revelation  of  the  various  pieces  are  often  fluctuating, 
and  often  rest  on  misunderstanding  or  arbitrary  conjecture. 
JiUt  at  all  events  it  is  far  easier  to  arrange  in  some  sort  of 
chronological  order  the  Medina  siiras  than  those  composed 
in  Mecia.  There  is,  indeed,  one  tradition  which  professes 
to  furnish  a  chronological  list  of  all  the  siiras.  But  not  to 
mention  that  it  occurs  in  several  divergent  forms,  and  that 
it  takes  no  account  of  the  fact  that  our  present  siiras  are 
]'artly  composed  of  pieces  of  different  dates,  it  contains  so 
many  Bus|)iciou3  or  undoubtedly  false  statements,  that  it 
ii  impossible  to  attach  any  great  importance  to  it.  Besides, 
it  is  a  ptiori  unlikely  that  a  contemporary  of  Mohammed 
should  have  drawn  up  such  a  list ;  and  if  any  one  had 
made  the  attemjit,  ho  would  have  found  it  almost  impos- 
sible to  obtain  reliable  infurmation  as  to  tlio  order  of  the 


earlier  Meccan  siiras.  We  have  in  this  list  no  genuine 
tradition,  but  rather  the  lucubrations  of  .an  undoubtedly 
conscientious  Moslem  critic,  who  may  have  lived  about  a 
century  after  the  Flight. 

Among  the  revelations  put  forth  in  Mecca  there  is  6  The 
considerable  number  of  ^for  the  most  part)  short  siiras,  MeeoaL 
which  strike  every  attentive  reader  as  being  the  oldest.: ^™^' 
They  are  in  an  altogether  different  strain  from  many  others,' 
and  in  their  whole  composition  they  show  least  resemblance 
to  the  Medina  pieces.  It  is  no  doubt  conceivable — as 
Sprenger  supposes — that  Mohammed  might  have  returned 
at  uitervals  to  his  earlier  manner ;  but  since  this  group 
possesses  a  remarkable  similarity  of  style,  and  since  the 
gradual  formation  of  a  different  style  is  on  the  whole  an 
unmistakable  fact,  the  assumption  has  little  probability ; 
and  we  shall  therefore  abide  by  the  opinion  that  these 
form  a  distinct  group.  At  the  opposite  extreme  from 
them  stands  another  cluster,  showing  quite  obvious  affinities 
with  the  style  of  the  Medina  siiras,  which  must  therefore 
be  assigned  to  the  later  part  of  the  Prophet's  work  in 
Mecca.  Between  these  two  groups  stand  a  number  of 
other  Meccan  siii'as,  which  in  every  respect  mark  the 
transition  from  the  first  period  to  the  third.  It  need 
hardly  be  said  that  the  three  periods — which  .were  first 
distinguished  by  Professor  Weil — are  not  separated  by 
sharp  lines  of  division.  With  regard  to  some  siiras,  it  may 
be  doubtful  whether  they  ought  to  be  reckoned  amongst 
the  middle  group,  or  with  one  or  other  of  the  extremes. 
And  it  is  altogether  impossible,  within  these  groups,  to 
establish  even  a  probable  chronological  arrangement  of  the 
individual  revelations.  In  default  of  clear  allusions  to 
w'ell-knowu  events,  or  events  whose  date  can  be  deter- 
mined, we  might  indeed  endeavom'  to  trace  the  psycholo- 
gical development  of  the  Prophet  by  means  of  the  Koran, 
and  arrange  its  parts  accordingly.  But  in  such  an  under- 
taking one  is  always  apt  to  take  subjective  assumptions 
or  mere  fancies  for  established  data.  Good  traditions 
about  the  origin  of  the  Meccan  revelations  are  not  very 
numerous.  In  fact  the  whole  history  of  Mohammed 
previous  to  the  Flight  is  so  imperfectly  related  that  we 
are  not  even  sure  in  what  year  he  appeared  as  a  prophet. 
Probably  it  was  in  a.d.  610;  it  may  have  been  somewhat 
earlier,  liut  scarcely  later.  If,  as  one  tradition  says,  xxx. 
1  sq.  ("The  Romans  are  overcome  in  the  nearest  neigh- 
bouring land  ")  refers  to  the  defeat  of  the  Byzantines  by 
the  Persians,  not  far  from  Damascus,  about  the  spring  of 
614,  it  would  follow  that  the  third  group,  to  which  this 
passage  belongs,  covers  the  greater  part  of  the  Jleccan 
period.  And  it  is  not  in  itself  unlikely  that  the  passionate 
vehemence  which  characterizes  the  first  group  was  of  short 
duration.  Nor  is  the  assumption  contradicted  by  the 
tolerably  woU-attosted,  though  far  from  incontestable  state- 
ment, that  when  'Omar  was  converted  (a.b.  615  or  G16), 
XX.,  which  belongs  to  the  second  gioup,  already  existed 
in  writing.  But  the  reference  of  xxx.  1  sq.  to  this  particu- 
lar battle  is  by  no  means  so  certain  that  positive  conclu- 
sions can  be  drawn  from  it.  It  is  the  same  with  other 
allusions  in  the  Meccan  siiras  to  occurrences  whose  chrono- 
logy can  be  partially  ascertained.  It  is  better,  therefore,  to 
rest  satisfied  with  a  merely  relative  determination  of  the 
order  of  even  the  three  great  clusters  of  Meccan  revelations. 

In  the  pieces  of  the  first  period  the  convulsive  excite-  OUr^t 
mcnt  of  the  Prophet  often  expresses  itself  with  the  utmost  Meicin 
vehemence.     Ho  is  so  carried  away  by  his  emotion  that,*"*^' 
he  cannot  choose  his  words ;  they  seem  rather  to  burst 
from  him.     Many  of  those  pieces  remind  us  of  the  oracles 
of  the  old  heathen  soothsayers,  whose  style  is  known  to 
us  from  imitations,  although  we  have  perhaps  not  a  single 
genuine  specimen.      Like  those  other  oracles,  the  siiras  of 
this  period,  which  are  never  very  long,  are  composed  of 


■SOBOJ.J 


MOHAMMEDANISM 


603 


The 
fitihs, 


'short  sentences  withTblerabiy  pure  but  rapidly-changing 
rhymes.  The  oaths,  too,  with  which  many  of  them  begin, 
■were  largely  used  by  the  soothsayers.  Some  of  these 
oaths  are  very  uncouth  and  hard  to  understand,  some  of 
them  perhaps  were  not  meant  to  be  understood,  for  indeed 
all  sorts  of  strange  things  are  met  with  in  these  chapters. 
Here  and  there  Mohammed  speaks  of  visions,  and  appears 
even  to  see  angels  before  him  in  bodily  form.  There  are 
some  intensely  vivid  descriptions  of  the  resurrection  and 
the  last  day  which  must  have  exercised  a  demonic  power 
over  men  who  were  quite  unfamiliar  with  such  pictures. 
Other  pieces  paint  in  glowing  colours  the  joys  of  heaven 
and  the  pains  of  hell.  However,  the  siiras  of. this  period 
are  not  all  so  wild  as  these ;  ^d  those  which  are  conceived 
in  a  calmer  mood  appear  to  be  the  oldest.  Yet,  one  must 
repeat,  it  is  exceedingly  difficult  to  make  out  any  strict 
chronological  sequence.  For  instance,  it  is  by  no  means 
certain  whether  the  beginning  of  scvi.  is  really,  what  a 
widely-circulated  tradition  calls  it,  the  oldest  part  of  the 
whole  Koran.  That  tradition  goes  back  to  the  Prophet's 
favourite  wife  'Aisha ;  but  as  she  was  not  bom  at  the 
time  when  the  revelation  is  said  to  have  been  made,  it 
cau  only  contain  at  the  best  what  Mohammed  told  her 
years  afterwards,  from  his  oivn  not  very  clear  recollection, 
with  or  without  fictitious  additi9ns.  And,  moreover, 
there  are  other  pieces  mentioned  by  others  as  the  oldest. 
In  any  case  xcvi.  1  sqq.  is  certainly  very  early.  Accord- 
ing to  the  traditional  view,  which  appears  to  be  correct, 
it  treats  of  a  vision  in  which  the  Prophet  receives  an 
injunction  to  recite  a  revelation  conveyed  to  him  by  the 
angel.  It  is  interesting  to  observe  that  here  already  two 
things  are  brought  forward  as  proofs  of  the  omnipotence 
and  care  of  God :  one  is  the  creation  of  man  out  of  a 
seminal  drop — an  idea  to  which  Mohammed  often  recurs ; 
the  other  is  the  then  recestly  introduced  art  of  writing, 
which  the  Prophet  instinctively  seizes  on  as  a  means  of 
propagating  his  doctrines.  It  was  only  after  Mohammed 
encountered  obstinate  resistance  that  the  tone  of  the  reve- 
lations became  thoroughly  passionate.  In  such  cases  he 
was  not  slow  to  utter  terrible  threats  against  those  who 
ridiculed  the  preaching  of  the  unity  of  God,  of  the  resur- 
rection, and  of  the  judgment.  His  own  uncle  Abu  Lahab 
had  rudely  repelled  him,  and  in  a  brief  special  siira  (cxi.) 
he  and  his  wife  are  consigned  to  hell.  The  siiras  of  this 
period  form  almost  exclusively  the  concluding  portions  of 
the  present  text.  One  is  disposed  to  assume,  however, 
that  they  were  at  one  time  more  numerous,  and  that  many 
of  them  were  lost  at  an  early  period. 

Since  Mohammed's  strength  lay  in  his  enthusiastic  and 
fiery  imagination  rather  than  in  the  wealth  of  ideas  and 
clearness  of  abstract  thought  on  which  exact  reasoning 
depends,  it  follows  that  the  older  siira%  in  which  the 
former  qualities  have  free  scope,  must  be  more  attractive 
to  us  than  the  later.  In  the  silras  of  the  second  period 
the  imaginative  glow  perceptibly  diminishes ;  there  is  still 
fire  and  animation,  but  the  tone  becomes  gradually  more 
prosaic.  As  the  feverish  restlessness  subsides,  the  periods 
are  drawn  out,  and  the  revelations  as  a  whole  become 
longer.  The  truth  of  the  new  doctrine  is  proved  by  accu- 
mulated instances  of  God's  working  in  nature  and  in 
history ;  the  objections  of  opponents,  whether  advanced 
in  good  faith  or  in  jest,  are  controverted  by  argimients ; 
but  the  demonstration  is  often  confused  or  even  weak. 
_  The  histories  of  the  earlier  prophets,  which  had  occasion- 
ally been  briefly  touched  on  in  the  first  period,  are  now 
related,  sometimes  at  great  length.  On  the  whole,  the 
harm  of  the  style  is  passing  away. 

There  is  one  piece  of  the  Koran,  belonging  to  the  begin- 
ning of  this  period,  if  not  to  the  close  of  the  former,  which 
claims  particular  notice.     This  is  i.,  the  Lord's  Prayer  of 


the'Moslems,  and  beyond  dispute  the  gem  of  the  Koran. 
The  words  of  this  s>lra,  which  is  known  as  al-fdtiha  ("  the 
opening  one  ")  are  as  follows  : — 

(1)  In  the  name  of  God,  tlie  compassionate  compassioner.  (2> 
Praise  be  [literally  "is"]  to  God,  the  Lord  of  the  worlds,  (3)  tho 
comp,issionate  compassioner,  (4)  the  Sovereign  of  tho  day  of 
judgment.  (5)  Thee  do  wo  worship  and  of  Thee  do  wo  beg  assist- 
ance. (6)  Direct  us  in  the  right  way  ;  (7)  in  the  way  of  those  to 
whom  'Thou  hast  been  gracious,  on  whom  there  is  no  wrath,  and 
who  go  not  astray. 

The  thoughts  are  so  simple  as  to  need  no  explanation ; 
and  yet  the  prayer  is  full  of  meaning.  It  is  true  that 
tiiere  is  not  a  single  original  idea  of  Mohammed's  in  it. 
Several  words  and  turns  of  expression  are  borrowed  diiectly 
from  the  Jews,  in  particular  the  designation  of  God  as  the 
"  Coigpassioner,"  Rahmdn.  This  is  simply  the  Jewish  Rabmla 
Rahmdnd,  which  was  a  favourite  name  for  God  in  the 
Talmudic  period.  Mohammed  seems  for  a  while  to  have 
entertained  the  thought  of  adopting  al-Ro.hmdn  as  a  proper 
name  of  God,  in  place  of  AUdk,  which  was  already  used  by 
the  heathens.^  This  purpose  he  ultimately  relinquished, 
but  it  is  just  in  the  siiras  of  the  second  period  that  the  use 
of  Rahvidii  is  specially  frequent.  It  was  probably  in  tho 
first  siira  also  that  Mohammed  first  introduced  the  formula, 
"  In  the  name  of  God,"  etc.  It  is  to  be  regretted  that  this 
prayer  must  lose  its  effect  through  too  frequent  use,  for 
every  Moslem  who  says  his  five  prayers  regularl)' — as  the 
most  of  them  do — repeats  it  not  less  than  twenty  iimes 
a  day. 

The  siiras  of  the  third  Meccan  period,  which  form  aLatcai 
pretty  large  part  of  our  present  Koran,  are  almost  entirely  Meccai» 
prosaic.  Some  of  the  revelations  are  of  considerable""*'' 
extent,  and  the  single  verses  also  are  much  longer  than 
in  the  older  siiras.  Only  now  and  then  a  gleam  of  poetic 
power  flashes  out.  A  sermonizing  tone  predominates. 
The  siiras  are  very  edifying  for  one  who  is  already  recon- 
ciled to  their  import,  but  to  us  at  least  they  do  not  seen* 
very  well  fitted  to  carry  conviction  to  the  minds  of  unbe- 
lievers. That  impression,  however,  is  not  correct,  for  ■  in 
reality  the  demonstrations  of  these  longer  Jleccan  siiras 
appear  to  have  been  peculiarly  influential  for  the  propaga- 
tion of  Islam.  Mohammed's  mission  was  not  to  Europeans, 
but  to  a  people  who,  though  quick-witted  and  receptive,  were 
not  accustomed  to  logical  thinking,  while  they  had  out- 
grown their  ancient  religion. 

When  we  reach  the  Medina  period  it  becomes,  as  hasMedim 
been  indicated,  much  easier  to  understand  the  revelation^  siii"- 
in  their  historical  relations,  since  our  knowledge  of  the 
history  of  Mohammed  in  Medina  is  tolerably  complete.  ■ 
In  many  cases  the  historical  occasion  is  perfectly  clear. . 
in  others  we  can  at  least  recognize  the  general  situation, 
from  which  they  arose,  and  thus  approximately  fix  their 
time.     There  still  remains,  however,  a  remnant,  of  which 
we  can  only  say  that  it  belongs  to  Medina. 

The  style  of  this  period  bears  a  pretty  close  resemblance 
to  that  of  the  latest  Meccan  period.  It  is  for  the  most 
part  pure  prose,  enriched  by  occasional  rhetorical  embellish- 
ments. Yet  even  here  there  are  many  bright  and  impres- 
sive passages,  especially  in  those  sections  which  may  be 
regarded  as  proclamations  to  the  army  of  the  faithful.  For 
the  Moslems,  Mohammed  has  many  different  messages.  At 
one  time  it  is  a  summons  to  do  battle  for  the  faith ;  at 
another,  a  series  of  reflexions  on  recently  experienced  success 
or  misfortune,  or  a  rebuke  for  their  weak  faith  ;  or  an  ex- 
hortation to  virtue,  and  so  on.  He  often  addresses  himself 
to  the  "  doubters,"  some  of  whom  vacillate  between  faitl 
and  imbelief,  others  make  a  pretence  of  faith,  while  othen 


'  Since  in  Arabic  also  the  root  (.»j  signifies  "  to  have  pity."  tl« 
Arabs  must  have  at  once  perceived  the  force  of  the  new  name. 


604 


M  O  H  A  M   M  E  D  A  N  i  S  M 


[korax. 


scarcely  take  tlio  tiouble  even  to  do  that.  They  are  no 
consolidatsd  l)aity,  but  to  Mohammed  they  are  all  equally 
vexatious,  because,  as  boon  as  danger  has  to  be  encountered, 
or  a  contribution  is  levied,  they  all  alike  fall  away.  '  There 
are  frequent  outburst?,  ever  increasing  in  bitterness,  against 
the  .lews,  who  were  very  numerous  in  Medina  and  its 
neighbourhood  when  Mohammed  arrived.  Ho  has  much 
less  to  .'■ay  against  the  Christians,  with  whom  he  never 
came  closely  in  contact ;  and  as  for  the  idolaters,  there  was 
little  occasion  in  Medina  to  have  many  words  -n'ith  them. 
A  part  of  the  Medina  pieces  consists  of  formal  laws  belong- 
ing to  the  ceremonial,  civil,  and  criminal  codes  ;  or  directions 
about  certain  temporary  complications.  The  most  objec- 
tionable parts  of  the  whole  Koran  are  those  which  treat  of 
Mohammed's  relations  with  women.  The  laws  and  regula- 
tions were  generally  very  concise  revelations,  but  most  of 
them  have  been  amalgamated  with  other  pieces  of  similar 
or  dissimilar  import,  and  are  now  found  in  very  long  silras. 
Such  is  an  imperfect  sketch  of  the  composition  and  the 
internal  liistory  of  the  Koran,  but  it  is  probably  sufficient 
to  show  that  the  book  is  a  very  heterogeneous  collection. 
If  only  those  passages  had  been  preserved  which  had  a 
permanent  value  for  the  theology,  the  ethics,  or  the  juris- 
prudence of  the  Jloslems,  a  few  fragments  would  have  been 
amply  sufficient.  Fortunately  for  knowledge,  respect  for 
the  sacredness  of  the  letter  has  led  to  the  collection  of  all 
the  revelations  that  could  possibly  be  collected, — the  "  abro- 
gating" along  with  the  "abrogated,"  passages  referring  to 
passing  circumstances  as  well  as  those  of  lasting  importance. 
Every  one  who  takes  up  the  book  in  the  proper  religious 
frame  of  mind,  like  most  of  the  Moslems,  reads  pieces 
directed  against  long-obsolete  absurd  customs  of  Mecca 
just  as  devoutly  as  the  weightiest  moral  precepts, — perhaps 
even  more  devoutly,  because  he  does  not  understand  them 
so  well.  ._ 

At.  the  head  of  tweuty-niue  oi  tne  suras  staud  certain  mitial 
letters,  from  which  no  clear  sense  can  be  obtained  Thus,  before 
ii.  iii.  xxxl.  xx.^i.  we  find  JJ  {Alif  Ldm  Mlm),  before  xl.-xlvi. 

..j»  tna  Mlm).     Kbldeke  at  one  tiine  suggested  that  these  initials 

r     ■ 

did  not  belong  to  Mohammed's  text,  but  might  be  the  monograms 
of  iJOSsessoi"s  of  codices,  which,  through  negligence  on  the  part  of 
the  editors,  were  incorporated  in  the  final  form  of  the  Koran  ; 
lie  now  deems  it  move  probable  that  they  are  to  be  traced  to  the 
Prophet  himself,  as  Spren^er,  Loth,  and  others  suppose.  One  can- 
not indeed  admit  the  truth  of  Loth's  statement  that  in  the  proper 
opening  words  of  these  suras  we  may  generally  find  an  allusion  to 
the  accompanying  initials  ;  but  it  can  scarcely  be  accidental  that 
the  first  verse  of  the  great  majority  of  them  (in  iii.  it  is  the  second 
verse)  contains  the  word  **  book,"  *'  revelatioi^"  or  some  equivalent. 
They  usually  begin  with:  "This  is  the  look,"  or  "Revelation 
('down  sending')  of  the  book,"  or  something  similar.  Of  suras 
which  commence  in  this  way  only  a  few  (xviii.  xxiv.  xxv.  xxxix. ) 
want  the  Initials,  while  only  xxix.  and  xxx.  have  the  initials  ami 
begin  dilTerently.  These  few  exceptions  may  easUy  have  proceeded 
from  ancient  corruptious  ;  at  all  events  they  cannot  neutralize  the 
evidence  of  the  greater  number.  Mohammed  seems  to  have  meant 
these  letters  for  a  mystic  reference  to  the  archetypal  text  in  heaven. 
To  a  man  who  regarded  the  art  of  writing,  of  which  at  the  best  he  had 
but  a  slight  knowledge,  as  something  supernatural,  and  who  lived 
amongst  illiterate  people,  an  A  B  C  may  well  have  seemed  more  sig- 
nificant than  to  us  who  have  been  initiated  into  the  mysteiies  of  this 
art  from  our  childhood.  The  Prophet  himself  can  h.ardly  have 
attached  any  particular  meaning  to  these  symbols  :  they  served  their 
purpose  if  they  conveyed  an  impression  of  solemnity  and  enigmatical 
obscurity.  In  fact,  the  Koran  admits  that  it  contains  many  things 
which  neither  ca.i  ^'e,  nor  were  intended  to  be,  imderstood  (iii.  6). 
To  regard  these  letters  as  ciphers  is  a  precarious  hypothesis,  for  the 
simple  reason  that  crj-ptography  is  not  to  be  looked  for  in  the  very 
infancy  of  Arabic  writing.  If  they  are  actually  ciphers,  the  multipli- 
city of  possible  explanations  at  once  precludes  the  hope  of  a  plausible 
interpretation.  None  of  the  olTorta  in  this  direction,  whether  by 
Moslem  scholars  or  by  Europeans,  have  led  to  convincing  results. 
Tliis  remark  applies  even  to  the  ingenious  conjectm'e  of  Sprenger, 
that  the  letters  (_,aj!-4^=.  {KAf  Iii  Yt  'Aim.  Sid)  before  six.  (which 
treats  of  John  and  Jesus,  and,  according  to  tradition,  w.xi  sent 
to  tho  Christian  king  if  Ab-jsaiuia)  ctan>l  for  Juna  A'marm-M 


RfT  Juaecorum.  Sprenger  arrives  at  this  explanation  by  a  very 
artificial  method  ;  and  besides,  Mohammed  was  not  so  simple  as  the 
Moslem  traditionalists,  who  imagined  that  the  Abyssinians  could 
read  a  piece  of  the  Arabic  Koran.  It  need  hardly  be  said  that  the 
Moslems  have  from  of  old  applied  themselves  with  great  assiduity  to 
the  decipherment  of  these  initials,  and  have  sometimes  found  the 
deepest  mysteries  in  them.  Ge.neral]y,  however,  they  are  content 
with  the  prudent  conclusion,  that  God  alone  knows  the  meaning  of 
these  letters. 

AVhen  Mohammed  died,  the  separate  pieces  of  the  Koran,  Tram- 
notwithstanding  their  theoretical  sacredness,  existed  only  missior 
in  scattered  copies  ;  they  were  consequently  in  great  danger  °'  "■* 
of  being  partially  or  entirely  destroyed.  Many  Moslems  ^"'"• 
knew  large  portions  by  heart,  but  certainly  no  one  knew 
the  whole ;  and  a  merely  oral  propagation  would  have  left 
the  door  open  to  all  kinds  of  deliberate  and  inadvertent 
alterations.  Jlohammed  himself  had  never  thought  of  an 
authentic  collection  of  his  revelations;  he  was  usually 
concerned  only  ivith  the  object  of  the  moment,  and  the  idea 
that  the  revelations  would  be  destroyed  unless  he  made  pro- 
vision for  their  safe  preservation,  did  not  enter  his  mind. 
A  man  destitute  of  literary  culture  has  some  difficulty  in 
anticipating  the  fate  of  intellectual  products.  But  now, 
after  the  death  of  the  Prophet,  most  of  the  Arabs  revolted 
against  his  successor,  and  had  to  be  reduced  to  submission 
by  force.  Especially  sanguinary  was  the  contest  against 
the  prophet  !Maslama  (Mubarrad,  Kdmil  443,  5),  an  imi- 
tator of  Mohammed,  commonly  known  by  the  derisive 
diminutive  Mosailima.  At  that  time  (a.d.  633)  many 
of  the  most  devoted  Moslems  fell,  the  very  men  who  knew 
most  Koran  pieces  by  heart.  'Omar  then  began  to  fear 
that  the  Koran  might  be  entirely  forgotten,  and  he  induced 
the  CaUph  Abubekr  to  undertake  the  collection  of  all  it'? 
parts.  The  CaUph  laid  the  duty  on  Zaid,  the  son  oi  Zaid's 
Thibit,  a  native  of  Jledina,  then  about  twenty-two  years  of  ''.''^' 
age,  who  had  often  acted  as  amanuensis  to  the  Prophet,  "■'"'^°" 
in  whose  service  he  is  even  said  to  have  learned  the  Jewish 
letters.  The  account  of  this  collection  of  the  Koran  has 
reached  us  in  several  substantiaUy  identical  forms,  and 
goes  back  to  Zaid  himself.  According  to  it,  he  collected 
the  re^-elations  from  copies  wTJtten  on  flat  stones,  pieces  of 
leather,  ribs  of  palm-leaves  (not  palm-leaves  themselves), 
and  such-like  material,  but  chiefly  "from  the- breasts  of 
men,"  i.e.  from  their  memory.  From  these  he  wrote  a 
fair  copy,  which  he  gave  to  Abiibeki-,  from  whom  it  came 
to  his  successor  'Omar,  who  again  bequeathed  it  to  his 
daughter  Hafsa,  one  of  the  widows  of  the  Prophet.  This 
redaction,  commonly  called  al-sohof  ("the  leaves"),  had 
from  the  first  no  canonical  authority;  and  its  internal 
arrangement  can  only  be  conjectm'ed. 

The  Moslems  were  as  far  as  ever  from  possessing  a  uni- 
form text  of  the  Koran.  The  bravest  of  their  warriors 
sometimes  knew  deplorably  little  about  it;  distinction  on  thai 
field  they  cheerfully  accorded  to  pious  men  like  Ibn  Mas'ud. 
It  was  inevitable,  however,  that  discrepancies  should  emerge 
between  the  texts  of  professed  scholars,  and  as  these  men  in 
their  several  localities  were  authorities  on  the  reading  of 
the  Koran,  quarrels  began  to  break  out  between  tlie  levies 
from  diff'erent  districts  about  the  true  form  of  the  sacred 
book.  During  a  campaign  in  A.n.  30  (a.d.  650-1),  Ho- 
dhaifa,  the  victor  in  the  great  and  decisive  Imttle  of  Nebi- 
wand — which  was  to  the  empirj  of  the  SAsinids  ■what 
Gauganiela  was  to  that  of  the  Acli.-cmcnida; — perceived  that 
such  disputes  miglit  become  dangerous,  and  therefore  urged 
on  the  Caliph  'Othm.^n  the  necessity  for  a  imiversally  bind-  'O;!]. 
ing  text.  The  matter  was  entrusted  to  Zaid,  who  had  made  ::  't^'' 
tho  former  collection,  witli  three  leading  Koraisliites.  '^''*''-i 
These  brought  together  as  many  copies  as  they  could  lay 
their  hands  on,  and  prepared  an  edition  which  w.is  to  bo 
canonical  for  all  Moslems.  To  prevent  any  further  dis- 
putes, they  burned  all  'Jii\  other  ccdicis  «;xcp,;}t  that  of 


KORAN.] 


M  O  H  A  Jvl  M  E  D  A  N  I  S  M 


605 


The 
Kcraa 
not  com 
plete. 


Hafsa,  which,  however,  was  soon  afterwards  destroyed  by 
Merwin,  the  governor  of  Medina.  The  destruction  of  the 
earlier  codices  was  an  irreparable  loss  to  criticism  ;  but,  for 
the  essentially  political  object  of  putting  an  ead  to  con- 
troversies by  admitting  only  one  form  of  the  common  book 
of  religion  and  of  law,  this  measure  was  necessary. 

The  result  of  these  labours  is  in  our  hands ;  as  to  how 
they  were  conducted  we  have  no  trustworthy  information, 
tradition  being  here  too  much  under  the  influence  of  dog- 
matic presuppositions.  The  critical  methods  of  a  modern 
scientific  commission  will  not  be  expected  of  an  age  when 
the  highest  literary  education  for  an  Arab  consisted  in 
ability  to  read  and  write.  It  now  seems  to  me  highly 
probable  that  this  second  redaction  took  this  simple  form  : 
Zaid  read  off  from  the  codex  which  he  had  previously 
written,  and  his  associates,  simultaneously  or  successively, 
wrote  one  copy  each  to  his  dictation.  It  certainly  cannot 
have  been  by  chance  that,  according  to  sure  tradition,  they 
vrrote  exactly  four  copies.  Be  that  as  it  may,  it  is  impos- 
sible now  to  distinguish  in  the  present  form  of  the  book 
what  belongs  to  the  first  redaction  from  what  is  due  to 
the  second. 

In  the  arrangement  of  the  separate  sections,  a  classifica- 
tion according  to  contents  was  impracticable  because  of  the 
variety  of  subjects  often  dealt  with  in  one  siira.  A  chrono- 
logical arrangement  was  out  of  the  question,  because  the 
chronology  of  the  older  pieces  must  have  been  imperfectly 
known,  and  because  in  some  cases  passages  of  different 
^ates  had  been  joined  together.  Indeed,  systematic  prin- 
ciples of  this  kind  were  altogether  disregarded  at  that 
period.  The  ])iece3  were  accordingly  arranged  in  indiscri- 
minate order,  the  only  rule  observed  being  to  place  the 
long  silras  first  and  the  shorter  towards  the  end,  and  even 
that  was  far  from  strictly  adhered  to.  The  short  opening 
sura  is  so  placod  on  account  of  its  superiority  to  the  rest, 
and  two  magical  formulse  are  kejit  for  a  sort  of  protection 
at  the  end ;  these  are  the  only  special  traces  of  design. 
The  combination  of  pieces  of  different  origin  may  proceed 
partly  from  the  possessor^  of  the  codices  from  which  Zaid 
compiled  his  first  complete  copy,  partly  from  Zaid  himself. 
The  individual  siiras  are  separated  simply  by  the  super- 
scription— "  In  the  name  of  God,  the  compassionate  Com- 
jMssioner,"  which  is  wanting  only  in  the  ninth.  The 
additional  heading*  found  in  our  texts  (the  name  of  the 
aura,  the  number  of  verses,  etc.)  were  not  in  the  original 
codices,  and  form  no  integral  part  of  the  'Koran. 

It  is  said  that  'OthmdTi  directed  Zaid  and  his  associates, 
in  cases  of  disagreement,  to  follow  the  Koraish  dialect ; 
but,  though  well  attested,  this  account  can  scarcely  be 
correct.  The  extremely  primitive  writing  of  those  days 
was  quite  incapable  of  rendering  such  minute  differences 
as  can  have  existed  between  the  jironunciation  of  Mecca 
and  that  of  Medina. 

'OthmAn's  Koran  was  not  complete.  Some  jjassages  are 
evidently  fragmentary  ;  and  a  few  detached  pieces  are  still 
■  extant  which  were  originally  parts  of  the  Koran,  although 
they  have  been  omitted  by  Zaid.  Amongst  these  are  some 
which  there  is  no  reason  to  suppose  Mohammed  desired  to 
suppress.  Zaid  may  easily  have  overlooked  a  few  stray 
fragments,  but  that  he  purposely  omitted  anything  which 
he  believed  to  belong  to  the  Koran  is  veny  unlikely.  It 
has  been  conjectured  that  in  deference  to  his  superiors  he 
kept  out  of  the  book  the  names  of  Jlohanimed's  enemies, 
if  they  or  their  families  came  afterwards  to  be  respected. 
But  it  must  be  remembered  that  it  was  never  Mohammed's 
practice  to  refer  explicitly  to  contemporary  persons  and 
affairs  in  the  Koran.  Only  a  single  friend,  his  adopted 
son  Zaid  (xxxiii.  37),  and  a  single  enemy,  his  uncle  Abil 
Lahab  (cxi.) — and  these  for  very  special  reasons — are  men- 
tioned by  name  ;  and  the  name  of  the,  latter  has  been  left 


in  the  Koran  with  a  fearful  curse  annexed  to  it,  although 
his  son  had  embraced  Islam  before  the  death  of  Mohammed. 
So,  on  the  other  hand,  there  is  no  single  verse  or  clause 
which  can  be  plausibly  made  out  to  be  an  interpolation  by 
Zaid  at  the  instance  of  Abubekr,  'Omar,  or  "Othmdn.  Slight 
clerical  errors  there  may  have  been,  but  the  Koran  of 
"OthmAn  contains  none  but  genuine  elements, — though 
sometimes  in  very  strange  order. 

Of  the  four  exemplars  of  'Othmans  jvoran,  one  was  kept; 
in  Medina,  and  one  was  sent  to  each  of  the  three  metro-j 
politau  cities,  Cufa,  Basra,  and  Damascus.  It  can  still  bo 
pretty  clearly  shown  in  detail  that  these  four  codices 
deviated  from  one  another  in  points  of  orthography,  in  the 
insertion  or  omission  of  a  wa  ("  and "),  and  such-like 
ni'nutise ;  but  these  variations  nowhere  affect  the  sense. 
Ail  luter  manuscripts  are  derived  from  these  four  originals. 

At  the  szme  time,  the  other  forms  of  the  Koran  didOt'.;r 
not    at    once   become   extinct.     In    particular    we    have  ' 

some  information  about  the  codex  of  Obay.  If  the 
list  which  gives  the  order  of  its  siiras  is  correct,  it  must 
have  contained  substantially  the  same  materials  as  our  text ; 
in  that  case  Obay  must  have  used  the  original  collection 
of  Zaid.  The  same  is  true  of  the  codex  of  Ibn  Mas'iid, 
of  which  we  have  also  a  catalogue.  It  appears  that  the 
principle  of  putting  the  longer  suras"  before  the  shorter  wa3 
more  consistently  carried  out  by  him  than  by  Zaid.  He 
omits  i.  and  the  magical  formulae  of  cxiii.  cxiv.  Obay, 
on  the  other  hand,  had  embodied  two  additional  short 
prayers,  which  we  may  regard  as  Mohammed's.  One 
can  easily  understandthat  differences  of  opinion  may  have 
existed  as  to  whether  and  how  far  formularies  of  this  kind 
belonged  to  the  Koran.  Some  of  the  diverge"nt  readings 
of  both  these  texts  have  been  preserved,  as  well  as  a  con- 
siderable number  of  other  ancient  variants.  Most  of  them 
are  decidedly  inferior  to  the  received  readings,  but  some 
are  quite  as  good,  and  a  few  deserve  preference 

The  only  man  who  appears  to  have  seriously  opposed  Ibc 
the  general  introduction  of  'OthmAn's  text  is  Ibn  Mas'ijJ.  Miu'u'l. 
He  was  one  of  the  oldest  disciples  of  the  Prophet,  and  had 
often  rendered  him  personal  service ;  but  he  was  a  man  of 
contracted  views,  although  he  is  one  of  the  pillirs  of  Mos- 
lem theology.  His  opposition  had  no  effect.  Now  whicn 
we  consider  that  at  that  time  there  were  many  Moslems 
who  had  heard  the  Koran  from  the  mouth  of  the  Prophet, 
that  other  measures  of  the  imbecile  'Othmin  met  Tvith 
the  most  vehement  resistance  on  the  part  of  the  bigoted 
champions  of  the  faith,  that  these  were  still  further  incited 
against  him  by  some  of  his  ambitious  old  comrades  until 
at  last  they  murdered  him,  and  finally  that  in  the  civil 
wars  after  his  death  the  several  parties  were  glad  of  any 
pretext  for  branding  their  opponents  as  infidels ; — when 
we  consider  all  this,  we  must  regard  it  as  a  strong  testi- 
mony in  favour  of  "Othmin's  Koran  that  no  party,  not 
even  that  of  'Ali,  found  fault  with  his  conduct  in  this 
matter,  or  repudiated  the  text  formed  by  Zaid,  who  was 
one  of  the  most  devoted  adherents  of  "OthmAn  and  his 
family. 

But  this  redaction  is  not  the  dose  of  the  textual  history  of  the  La' er 
Koran.     The  ancient  Arabic  aljihabet  was  very  imperfect  ;  it  not bi. tor* 
only  wanted  marks  for  the  abort,  and  in  part  even  for  tlie  long  of  *.'js 
vowels,  but  it  often  expressed  several  consonants  by  tb>  same  sign.  te^t. 
Hence  there  were  many  words  whicb  could  be  read  in  very  di/Tcrent 
ways.     This  variety  of  possible  readings  was  at  first  very  fiieat,  and 
many  readers  seem  to  have  actually  made  it  tlieir  object  to  discovler 
pronunciations  whicb  were  new,  provided  they  were  at  all  appro- 
priate to  the  ambiguous  text.     There  was  also  a  dialectic  license  jn 
grammatical  forms,  which  bad  not  as  yet  been  greatly  restricted. 
An  effort  was  made  by  many  to  establish  a  more  refined  pionuncia.' 
tion  for  the  Koran  than  was  usual  in  common  life  or  in  semilsr 
literature.     The  various  schools  of  "readers"  differed  very  widely 
from  one  another  ;  although  for  the  most  part  there  was  no  im- 
portant divergence  as  to  the  sense  of  words.  ,  A  few  of  them  grailb- 


Manu- 
scripts 


ComirT* 


«lly  N>so  to  special  authority,  and  the  rest  disappeared.  Seven 
reaJc-s  are  generally  leclconed  chief  authorities,  but  for  practical 
purposes  this  number  was  continuaUy  reduced  in  process  of  time  ; 
so  that  at  present  only  two  "reading-styles"  are  in  actual  use,— 
the  common  style  of  Hafs,  and  that  of  Nafi',  which  prevails  in 
Afnca  to  the  west  of  Egypt.  There  is,  however,  a  veiy  comprehen- 
sive massoretic  hterature  in  which  a  number  pf  other  styles  are  indi- 
cated, Iho  invention  of  vowol-sigus,  of  diacritic  points  to  dis- 
tinguish similarly  formed  consonants,  and  of  other  orthographic 
signs,  soon  put  a  stop  to  arbitrary  conjectures  on  the  part  of  the 
readers.  Many  zealots  objected  to  the  introduction  of  these  inno- 
vations in  the  sacred  text,  but  tlieological  consistency  had  to  yield 
to  practical  necessity.  In  accurate  codices,  indeed,  all  such  addi- 
tions, as  well  as  the  titles  of  the  sura,  etc.,  are  written  in  coloured 
ink,  while  the  black  characters  profess  to  represent  exactly  the 
original  of  'Othmdn.  But  there  is  probably  no  copy  quite  faithful 
in  this  respect. 

In  European  libraries,  besides  innumerable  modem  manuscripts 
of  the  Koran,  there  are  also  codices,  or  fragments,  of  high  anti. 
gmty,  some  of  them  probably  dating  from  the  1st  century  of  the 
!•  light.  For  the  restoration  of  the  text,  however,  the  works  of 
ancient  scholars  on  its  readings  and  modes  of  writing  are  more 
impoitant^  than  the  manuscripts  ;  which,  however  elegantly  they 
may  be  -vvntten  and  ornamented,  proceed  from  irresponsible  copj-ists 
The  original,  written  by  'Othra.in  himself,  has  indeed  been  exhibited 
in  various  parts  of  the  Mohammedan  world.  The  library  of  the 
India  Office  contains  one  such  manuscript,  bearing  the  subscription  : 
Written  by  Othmdn  the  son  of  'AllViu."  These,  of  course  are 
barefaced  forgeries,  although  of  very  ancient  date  ;  so  are  those 
which  profess  to  be  from  the  baud  of 'Ali,  one  of  which  is  preserved 
Sn  the  same  library.  In  recent  times  the  Koran  has  been  often 
printed  and  lithographed,  both  in  the  East  and  the  West. 
•  Shortly  after  Mohammed's  death  certain  individuals  applied 
themselves  to  the  exposition  of  the  Koran.  Much  of  it  was  obscure 
from  the  beginning,  other  sections  were  unintelligible  apart  from 
a  knowledge  of  the  circumstances  of  their  origin.  Unfortunately, 
those  who  took  possession  of  this  field  were  not  Tery  honourable! 
Ibn  'Abbas,  a  cousin  of  Mohammed's,  and  the  chief  source  of  the 
traditional  exegesis  of  the  Koran,  has,  on  theological  and  otlier 
grounds,  given  currency  to  a  number  of  falsehoods  ;  and  at  least 
some  of  his  pupils  have  emulated  his  example.  These  earliest 
expositions  dealt  more  with  the  sense  and  connexion  of  wliole 
verses  than  with  the  separate  words.  Afterwards,  as  the  know- 
ledge of  the  old  language  declined,  and  the  study  of  philology 
arose,  more  attention  began  to  be  paid  to  the  explanation  of 
vocables.  A  good  many  fragments  of  this  older  theological  and 
philological  exegesis  have  survived  from  the  first  two  centuries  of 
the  Flight,  although  we  have  no  complete  commentaiy  of  this 
psnod.  Most  of  the  expository  material  will  perhaps  be  found  in 
the  very  largo  commentary  of  the  celebrated  Tabari  (a.d.  839-923) 
of  which  an  almost  complete  copy  is  in  the  Viceregal  library  at 
Cairo.  Another  very  famous  commentary  is  that  of°Zamakhshari 
(a.d.  1075-1144),  edited  by  Nassau-Lees,  Calcutta,  1859  ;  but  this 
Bcholar,  with  his  great  insight  and  still  gi-eater  subtlety,  is  too 


MOHAMMEDANISM 


[KOEA:r. 


apt  to  read  his  own  scho.astic  ideas  mlo  the  Koran.  The  favourite 
commentary  of  Baidawi  {ob.  a.d.  1286),  edited  by  Fleischer 
Leipsie,  1846-1318  is  little  more  than  an  abridgment  of  Zamakh 
shari  s.  1  housands  of  commentaries  on  the  Koran,  some  of  them  of 
prodigious  size,  have  been  written  by  Moslems  ;  and  even  the  num^>,T 
of  those  still  extant  in  manuscript  is  by  no  means  smalL  « Ithoi-"', 
these  works  a  1  contain  much  that  is  useless  or  false,  yet"  thev  ala 
invaluable  aids  to  our  understanding  of  the  sacred  book.     An  un- 

.I'ffr'l  ff  ""P'^"  J\'",'  ","  '^""l'''  ''"  ""^-y  "''"S^  ^'  a  glance  moro 
''ZJ-"'^V  g™<l  Jl°f?°>  ^  '0  i^  under  the  iuliuence  of  religio,^ 
prejudice  ;  hut  we  should  still  be  helpless  without  the  exe-retVal 
literature  of  the  Mohammedans.  Nevertheless,  a  great  deal  remains 
to  be  accomplished  by  European  scholarship  for  the  correct  inter! 
pretatioii  of  the  Koran.  We  want,  for  example,  an  cxhaustiva 
classification  and  discussion  of  all  the  Jewisfc  elements  in  tho 
Koran ;  a  prai.scworthy  beginning  has  already  been  made  ia 
Gcigers  youthful  essay  :  JFas  hat  Maho-nul  om  dm  Judcnlhu.,1 
avfgcnommcnt  (Bonn,  1833).  We  want  especially  a  thorouf-l. 
commentary,  executed  mth  the  methods  and  resources  of  modern 

of'l°'4;nJ'?-        °E-*u   l'"'S",^g^  "  ^-ouW  seem,  can  even  boast  Tr«u. 
of  a  transktion  which  completely  satisfies  modem  requirement...  -^ 
The   best  are   in   English  ;    where  we   have  the  extremely  pr.'a-     ^^' 
phra^tic,  but  for  its  time  admirable  translation  of  Sale  (repeatedly 
printed),  that  of  Eodwell  (1361).  which  seeks  to  give  tlie  pieces  in 
chronological  order,  and  that  of  Palmer  (1880),  wdio  .wisely  follow, 
the  traditional  arrangements.    The  introduction  which  accompani-  . 
P.almers  translation  is  not  in  all  respects  abreast  of  the  most  recei.; 
seholarslup.     Considerable  extracts  from  the  Koran  are  well  trans- 
lated m  E.  W.  Lane's  Selections  from  the  Kur-dn 

Besides  commentaries  on  the  whole  Koran,  or  on  special  parti 
and  topics  the  Moslems  possess  a  whole  literature  bearing  on  thi  i- 
sacred  book  There  are  works  on  the  spelling  and  right  pronun- 
ciation of  the  Koran,  works  on  the  beauty  of  its  language,  on  th- 
number  of  its  verses,  words  and  letters,  etc.  ;  nay,  there  are  cve:- 
works  which  would  nowadays  be  called  "historical  and  critical 
introductions.  Moreover,  the  origin  of  Arabic  philology  is  inti- 
mately connected  with  the  recitation  and  exegesis  of  tlfe  Koran 
^r  f 'tv,"  'm  ',"'P°'-l^"ee  <,f  the  sacred  book  for  the  whole  mental 
ife  of  the  Moslems  would  be  simply  to  wite  the  history  of  that 
lie  Itself;  for  there  is  no  department  in  which  its  all-pervadin<- 
but  unfortunately  not  always  salutary  infiucnce  has  not -been  felt, 
itJ.lL''  """.I,  reverence  of  the  Moslems  for  the  Koran  reaches  Ete«,{y 
Its  climax  m  the  dogma  that  this  book,  as  the  divine  word,  i  c.  .v  the 
inought,  13  immanent  in  God,  and  consequently  rfcrnaZ  and  i^,,- Uc'^n 
matexl  Ihat  dogma  has  been  accepted  bv  almost  all  Mohammed,-i-s 
since  the  beginning  of  the  3d  century.  Some  theologians  did 
indeed  protest  against  it  with  great  energy  ;  it  was  in  fact  too  pre- 
posterous  to  declare  that  a  book  composed  of  unstable  words  and 
letters,  and  full  of  variants,  was  absolutely  divine.  But  what  were 
the  distinctions  and  sophisms  of  the  theologians  for,  if  they  could  not 
remove  such  contradictions,  and  convict  their  opponents  of  heresy  ? 
The  followiiiK  works  may  be  specially  consulted :  Weil,  Binhiluna  in  dn 


*w.  11-.,  ^v*cii.,  J3IO,  III.  viUKiQKe,  uescnicJiucus  I 
tJie  Lives  of  Mohammed  by  Muii-  and  Sprenger. 


(Ta  K.) 


Abbas,  551,  574 ;   honsc 
of,  574  sq. 

AhhfLsid    aj-nasty,    57S- 

6Sf>, 
•Abd  al-Melik,  5C9. 
Abderamc,  575,  570  sq. 
Abiibekr,  548,  561  sq. 
Abu  eanlfa,  595. 
Abu  '1-' Abbas,  577  53. 
Abu  Lahab,  550. 
Abii  Mosliin,  576,  578. 
Abu  Talib,  546,  643,  549. 
Africa     conquered,    607, 


672: 


:volf: 


A"hlfibitcs,  579,  587. 
'Aif,  643,  5G3,  506 ;  houao 

of,  574,  579,  5S4. 
Amin,  583. 
Amir  al-OirtfirA,  687. 
•Amr  b.  aX-'Ati  (Amron), 

553,  565,  507. 
Arab  heathenism,  640. 
Ash'ari,  593. 
Assagiiins,  594. 
liagbdid  founded,  679. 
Banu  Kainoki,  565. 
Jianu  Nadfr,'650. 
Eannccid'es,  581. 
Ba.?ni.    562,  590;    BChool 

of.  "'" 


Bokhdri,  665. 

Buyid  dynasty,  5S7,  588. 

Cadi,  591. 

Caliph,  561,  589,  591. 

Canuatliians,  586,  504. 

Commerce,  597. 

Ctesiphon,  562. 

Cufa(Kula),  664,  670,  &c. 

Vahhak,  669. 

"  D'efendei-s  "  (An^dr),  554. 

Dlwan,  689.  591. 

Duiiiat  al-Jandal,  5C5. 

"Emigrants"(Mohd)Lriii), 

554,  563. 
Fill  ma,  546. 
Fiiiimitos,  68" 
Faira,  548, 


Intjex. 


,  504. 


Fosse'  Waroftho,  551J. 
Olixssan,  645,  bdZ. 
Grammarians,  595. 
Greeks,  wars  with,  567, 

570,  572,  574,  580,  6Si', 

584,  '58j. 
Hidi   581. 
HiOJM.  509,  sn  Sfjtj. 
IJamdinite  dynasty  ES7. 
pamza,  550,  556. 
Uanifs,  547. 
HArun  al-Rashid,  SSL 
pasan  b.  'AH,  500. 
Uiishimitcs,  645. 


Hcgira.    See  Hijra. 

H.eromax  (battle),  5C2. 

Rijra,  545,  651. 

llira,  645,  662. 

Hird,  Alt.,  547. 

Historians,  696. 

Hodaibiya  (treaty),  657. 

Hosain  b.  'All,  567. 

"Hypocrites,"  554. 

Ibn  al-AsIi'ath,  572. 

Ibn  panbal,  684,  595. 

Ibn  Mas'iid,  601. 

Ibn  Obay,  552,  554. 

Ibn  Zobair,  507,  608,  670 
sqq. 

Ibrahim  (Caliph),  576. 

Ikhshldites,  6S7. 

Imdms,  592 ;  of  house  of 

,;Ali,  593. 

'Isd  b.  Musd,  579*7 

Ishim,  647  ;  chief  pre- 
cepts, 553 


,  693. 


Jabarites, 

Ja'far,  581,  582. 

547,  550,  652,  653, 

Ji'ri'ina,  659. 
Kadaritca,  692, 
KAdisIya  (battle),  562. 


Kerbela  (battle),  563. 

Khadija,  646,  643,  55a 

Khaibar,  652,  557  sq. 

Khdlid,  658,  562. 

Khdrijit«s,  560,  504,  665, 
569,  571,  692. 

Koraish,  545,  559,  663. 

Koran,  697-606. 

Korai?a,  550. 

kotaiba  b.  Moslim,  5"3, 
674. 

Uw,  594. 

Mahdi  (Caliph),  580;  Mo- 
hammed tlie,  679. 

Malatiya,  579. 

Malik  b.  Anas,  505,  693, 
694. 

Ma'miin,  583. 

Mauaiir,  578  sq. 

Mai-tel,  Charles,  576^ 

Maslama,  574,  670. 

Mecca,  645  sqq.,  659,  669, 


Mo'd>viya  I.,  563,  506  sq.i 

M.  II.,  560. 
Mohallab,  569  gqq. 


Mokhtdr,  5CS  sqn. 
Money,  672,  51iO.* 
Monta?ir,  5Sj. 
Moslim  b.  'OK-ba,  668. 
Mosta'in.  5S5. 
Mo'tasim.  684. 
Mo'tamid,  6S6. 
Motawakkil,  5S5, 


,  692. 


Mo-t 

Mu ^. 

Xeh.'uvend  (battle),  562. 

Obaid  All.'ili,  608. 

Obay,  OOJ. 

Ohod  (battle),  556. 

"Oivba,  507. 

■Omar  I.,  650,  563:  *0.  11-, 

574. 
Oniaj-j'Rds,  645,  500.  563 
dynasty,     565-576 ;     in 
Srain,  579. 
Orthodox  sects,  593. 
'Othmdn,   548,    549,  663; 

Koran,  605. 
Poets,  695. 
l*rovinces,  593. 
Ramai.tan,  55:i. 
Pdwandi  sect.  579. 


689. 


Rcve..„v..,  .«... 
Saffdrid  (ij-na8t\',  586. 
Samarkand,  507. 


Science,  596. 
Siffin  (b.ittlc),  664. 
Shdfi'f,  695. 
Shi'ites,  504,  6CSL 
Solaimdn,  574. 
Sorra-man-ra'd,  5S5. 
Spain  conquered,  573 ;  Cl  ■ 

iiphate,  579. 
Siifism,  694. 
Sunna,  553,  594, 
Tabiik,  661. 

a'jiif,  545,  550,  559,  500. 
'I'drik.  673. 
Thco'logj',  592. 
Trn.liUon  (yadtth).    664. 

594. 
Tuh\nid  dj-nasty,  680. 


Wiikidi,  501,  596. 

^ahd    I.,    573;    W.    II., 

Wdthik.  5S5. 

Yahvft  b.  Al.dalliih,  6S2. 

Y.izid  I..  667  «.;  Y.  If,. 

575;  Y.  III.,  570;  Y.  b. 

Mohallab,  574,  675. 
Zaid  a  *Ali,  575. 
2iydd,  600,  507. 


Bedr  (battle),  655.  Udshimites,  645.  Snimwan;  667. ' 

Biodom  Greek  7  or  the  Northmnborland  burr.    In  a  fe>,  nam<»  tlie  coovcntiSiiTpe'Ss  bSioi'^a  Ke"  naL^*?.  ^SX'  llH!:  '■  folT^  =<'-of".s'uU 


M  O  H  — M  O  H 


607 


MOHL,  Jules  (1800-1876),  Orientalist,  was  born  at 
Stuttgart  25th  October  1 800,  and  educated  for  the  Lutheran 
Church  at  Tubingen  ;  but  his  inclinations  carried  him  from 
-.heology  through  Hebrew  to  Oriental  studies,  and  in  1823 
tie  betook  himself  to  Paris,  at  that  time  under  De  Sacy 
the  great  European  school  of  Eastern  letters.  He  soon  ac- 
quired reputation,  and  from  1826  to  1833  was  nominally 
professor  at  Tubingen,  with  permission  to  continue  his 
jtudies  in  France,  but  he  never  entered  on  the  duties  of 
this  ofSce,  Paris  having  become  his  second  home.  In 
1826  he  was  charged  by  the  French  Government  with  the 
preparation  of  an  edition  of  the  Sluih  Ji'dmeh,  the  first 
volume  of  which  appeared  in  1838,  while  the  seventh  and 
last  was  left  unfinished  at  his  death ;  in  1844  he  was 
nominated'  to  the  Institut,  and  in  1847  he  became  pro- 
fessor of  Persian  at  the  College  de  France.  But  his  know- 
ledge and  interest  extended  to  ail  departments  of  Oriental 
learning,  and  this  catholicity  of  taste,  united  to  a  singular 
impartiality  of  judgment  and  breadth  of  view,  gave  him  a 
quite  remarkable  personal  influence  on  the  course  of  East- 
em  learning  in  France.  The  chief  sphere  of  this  influence 
was  the  Society  Asiatique,  which  he  served  for  many  years 
as  secretary-adjunct,  as  secretary,  and  finally  as  president. 
His  annual  reports  on  Oriental  science,  presented  to  the 
society  from  1840  to  1867,  and  collected  after  his  death  (4th 
January  1876,  at  Paris)  under  the  title  Yingtsept  Ansdes 
£tudes  Orientates  (Paris,  1879),  are  an  admirable  history 
of  the  progress  of  Eastern  learning  during  these  years,  and 
justify  the  high  esteem  in  which  he  was  held  by  scholars. 
MOHLER,  JoHANN  A1..1M  (1796-1838),  Roman  CathoUc 
theologian;  was  born  at  the  village  of  Igersheim  in  Wiir- 
temberg  on  6th  May  1796,  and,  after  studying  philosophy 
and  theology  in  the  Lyceum  at  Etlwangen,  entered  the 
Wilhelmstift  iu  the  university  of  Tubingen  in  1817. 
Ordained  to  the  priesthood  in  1819,  he  was  appointed  to 
a  curacy  at  Riedlingen,  but  speedily  returned  as  "  repetent " 
to  Tiibingen,  where  he  became  privat-docent  in  1822,  ex- 
traordinary professor  of  theology  in  1826,  and  ordinary  in 
1828.  The  controversies  excited  by  his  Symbolik  (1832) 
proved  so  unpleasant  that  in  1835  he  accepted  a  call  to 
the  university  of  Munich.  In  1838  he  was  appointed  to 
the  deanery  of  Wiirzburg,  but  died  shortly  afterwards 
(12th  April  1838). 

MbUcr  wrote  bw  Einkeit  in  dtr  Kirche  (Tubingen,  1825) ; 
Athanasiut  der  Grosse  u.  d.  Kirche  seiner  ZcU  im  Kampfe  m.  d. 
Arianlsmus  (2  voh.,  Mainz,  1827) ;  Symbolilc,  oder  Darstellutig  dcr 
dorjmatischen  Gegcnsdlzc  der  KathoKken  u.  ProteslarUen  nach  ihren 
effmtlidicn  Bclceiintiiisssdiri/lcn  (Mainz,  1832  ;  8th  cd.,  1871-72  ; 
Eng.  transl.  by  J.  B.  Robertson,  1843) ;  and  Neue  Untersuchiingcn 
der  Lekrgegcvsilx  zwisckcn  den,  Katholikcn  u.  Protestantcn  (1834). 
His  Oesammelte  Schriflen  «.  AufMUe  were  edited  by  Dbllingor  iu 
1839  ;  his  Patrologic  by  Reithmayr,  also  in  1839  ;  and  a  Biogra.jihie 
by  Woiner  was  published  at  Ratisbon  in  1866.  It  is  with  the 
Symbolik  that  his  name  is  chiefly  associated  ;  the  interest  excited 
by  it  in  Protestant  cii-cles  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  within  two 
years  of  its  appearauce  it  had  elicited  three  replies  of  considerable 
miportancc,  those  namely  of  Caur,  Marheiueke,  and  Xitzsch.  But, 
although  characterized  by  abundant  learning  and  acuteness,  as  well 
as  by  considerable  breadth  of  spiritual  sympathy,  and  thus  astimula- 
tive  and  suggestive  work,  it  cannot  be  said  to  have  been  accepted 
by  Catholics  themselves  as  embodying  an  accurate  objective  view 
of  the  actual  doctrine  of  their  church.  The  liberal  school  of 
thought  of  which  Mohler  was  a  prominent  exponent  was  dis- 
couraged in  official  circles,  while  Protestants,  on  the  other  hand, 
compfain  th.it  the  author  ias  failed  to  grasp  the  vast  signihcance 
of  the  Reformation  as  a  great  movement  in  the  spiritual  history 
of  mankind,  while  expending  needless  pains  on  an  exposition  of 
the  doctrinal  shortcomings,  inconsistencies,  and  couti-auictions  of 
the  individuals  who  were  its  leaders. 

MOHR,  Kakl  Friedrich  (1806-1879),  a  philosopher 
whose  greatest  claims  to  scientific  distinction  are  as  yet, 
though  indubitable,  only  partially  admitted,  was  the  son 
of  a  well-toJo  druggist  in  Coblentz,  and  was  bom  4th- 
November  1 806.  Being  a  delicate  child,  he  received  much 
of.his  early  education  at  home,  in  great  part  iu  his  father's 


laboratorj'.  To  this  may  be  traced  much  of  the  skill  ho 
showed  in  devising  instruments  and  methods  of  analysis 
which  are  still  in  common  use  in  chemical  and  pharmaceu- 
tical laboratories.  At  the  age  of  21  he  studied  chemistry 
under  Gmelin,  and,  after  five  years  spent  in  Heidelberg, 
Berlin,  and  Bonn,  returned  with  the  degree  of  Ph.D.  to  join 
his  father's  establishment.  On  the  death  of  his  father  in 
1840  he  succeeded  to  the  business,  retiring  from  it  for  scien- 
tific leisOTe  in  1857.  Serious  pecuniary  losses  led  him  at 
the  age  of  57  to  become  a  privat-docent  in  Bonn,  where  he 
was  soon  after  appointed,  by  the  direct  influence  of  the 
emperor,  extraordinary  professor  of  pharmacy.  In  pri- 
vate and  domestic  life  he  was  a  man  of  singularly  winning 
manners,  intensely  fond  of  music  and  poetry,  for  the  latter 
of  which  he  showed  wonderful  memory.  But  his  uncom- 
promising spirit — perhaps  we  might  even  in  some  cases 
say  his  wrongheadedness — in  matters  of  scientific  and  theo- 
logical authority  had  raised  such  a  host  of  enemies  that 
even  royal  influence  could  not  secure  his  further  advance- 
ment. Although  he  stood  at  the  very  head  of  the  scien- 
tific pharmacists  of  Germany,  his  name  was  deliberately 
omitted  from  the  list  of  the  commission  entrusted  with 
the  preparation  of  the  Pharmacopoeia  (Jermanica.  Yet 
in  that  work  many  of  his  ideas  and  processes  w«re  incor- 
porated by  the  very  men  who  had  previously  deuouiiccd 
them.     He  died  iu  October  1879. 

Mohr's  best-known  work  is  his  Lchrbuch  der  chcmiseh-aimJijtisch-.i 
TUrirjndhodc  (1855),  which  has  already  run  through  many  editions, 
and  which  was  specially  commended  by  Liebie.  His  iniprovemenUi 
in  methods  of  chemical  analysis  occupy  a  long  series  of  papei-s 
extending  over  some  fifty  years.  He  also  published  a  nuiuher  of 
physical  papers  on  subjects  such  as  Hail,  St.  Elmo's  Fiie,  Grouud-icc, 
&c.,  and  a  curious  notice  of  the  earliest  mention  of  Ozone.  Ho 
shows  that  Homer,  ou  four  difi"erent  occasions,  mentions  the  sul- 

Ehurous  smell  produced  by  lightning,  and  employs  the  very  word 
•om  which  the  name  of  Ozone  was  long  aftersvards  coined.  In 
1866  appeared  his  Gcschichte  dcr  Erdc,  cine  Ocologie  an/  iieucr 
Grundlage,  which  has  obtained  a  wide  cii-culation. 

But  he  will  be  remembered  in  future  times  mainly  ou  account  of 
a  paper,  Ueber  die  Aalur  der  IKarme,  published  in  1837,  which 
unfortunately  has  not  yet  appeared  in  full  in  an  English  translation. 
The  history  of  this  paper  is  remarkable.  It  was  refused  admission 
into  Poggcndorff's  Aii7talcn,  and  was  then  sent  to  Baumgartner  of 
Vienna,  in  whoso  Zeitschrifl  fUr  Phtjsik,  &c. ,  it  was  at  once  published. 
-\s  no  proof-sheets  reached  Mohr,  he  concluded  that  his  paper  had 
been  lost  or  rejected,  and  contented  himself  with  publishing  a  short 
analysis  in  the  Annalcn  der  Phetrmaciey  of  which  he  was  an  editor. 
This  analysis,  it  is  only  fair  to  say,  though  probably  prepared  by  tho 
author  himself,  gives  a  veiy  inadequate  idea  of  the  scope  and  merit 
of  the  paper.  Iu  1864  Dr.  Akin  unearthed  the  paper  from  tho 
forgotten  pages  of  the  Zcitschrift,  and  the  author  was  enabled  to 
reprint  it,  with  notes,  while  the  recent  discussions  as  to  the  history 
of  Conser\'ation  of  Energy  were  still  being  carried  on.  Along  with 
it  he  issued  a  number  of  other  papcii*  of  gicatly  inferior  merit. 

Unless  Some  still  earlier  anthor  should  be  discovered,  there  can 
be  no  doubt  that  Mohr  is  to  be  recognized  as  tho  fii-st  to  enunriate 
in  its  generality  what  we  now  call  "conservation  of  energy."  Tho 
thesis  of  his  paper  must  be  stated  in  his  own  woi-ds, — "  Besides 
the  64  known  chemical  elements,  there  is  in  the  physical  world 
one  agent  only,  and  this  is. called  Kraft  (energy).'  ft  may  appear, 
according  to  circumstances,  as  motion,  chemical  affinity,  cohesion, 
electricity,  light,  and  magnetism  ;  and  from  any  one  of  theso 
forms  it  can  bo  transformed  into  any  of  the  others."  Even  now, 
after  nearly  half  a  century  of  rapid  advance  in  science,  it  would 
be  difficult  to  improve  this  statement  except  by  inserting,  as  regaids 
transformation  of  energy,  some  such  guarding  expression  as  "in 
whole  or  in  part."  But  if  Mohr  had  inserted  this,  he  might  have 
had  claims  to  the  "dissipation  of  energy ''also.  Mohr's  starting-point 
appears  to  have  been  the  discovery  (by  Forbes)  of  the  polarization 
of  radiant  heat.  He  ^oes  through  the  whole  o'  the  then  range  of 
physics,  pointing  out  the  explanation  of  each  experimental  result  as 
a  transformation  of  energy,  mentioning  even  tfie  electric  currents 
produced  by  electro-magnetic  induction  as  a  transformatioi  of  the 
energy  required  to  draw  the  coil  fi-om  the  magnet — one  of  the  earl'er 
methods  used  by  Joule  for  quantitative  determinations.  His  nu- 
merical results,  based  on  data  quoted  from  various  books,  arc,  it  is 


'  It  is  to  be  remembered  tQ.at  even  the  most  accurate  authorities  in 
Germany — as,  for  instance.  You  Helniholtz  in  his  Essay  of  1847 — used 
till  quite  recently  the  word  Kraft  in  the  sense  of  Energy. 


G03 


M  O  i  — M  O  L 


true,  very  inaocuvnto  ;  Hie  correct  cXKi-imcntal  cletorminations  we 
owe 'to  Joule.  But  it  mU3t  be  rememuered  that  these  speculations, 
^Jariii"  as  they  were  and  accurate  (on  the  whole)  as  they  I'.avo  been 
found" to  bo,  required  the  contirmation  which  they  received  from  the 
••xlierimental  work  of  Colding  and  Joule,  or  from  the  Sssatj  of  Von 
lli-lmholtz,  whoso  basis  also  id  wholly  experimental,  being  the  fact 
that  "  perpetual  motion  "  is  recognized  as  unattainable. 

MOIB,  David  Macbeth  (1798-18S1),  the  "Delta"  of 
BliirlvoocTs  Mazarine,  one  of  its  most  popular  contributors 
in  its  early  days,  was  "bom  at  Musselburgh  5th  January 
1798,  and  was  a  physician  in  active  practice  there  from  his 
manhood  to  his  death  (6th  JfJy  1851).  He  seems  to  have 
been  a  man  of  winning  manners  and  noble  integrity  of 
character,  and  the  intrinsic  value  of  his  poetry  has  been  in 
consequence  somewhat  over-estimated  by  critics  of  repute 
who  enjoyed  his  personal  acquaintance.  He  had  no  inde- 
pendent vein  as  a  writer  of  serious  verse,  and  his  technical 
■qualities  as  a  poet  do  not  bear  examination.  But  liis  verses 
were  luidoubtedly  popular  with  the  readers  of  the  magazine 
at  the  time.  A  collection  of  them  was  edited  by  Thomas 
Aird  in  1852.  As  a  kindly  humourist  "Delta"  had  a  more 
original  turn.  His  Antohioyraphy  o/  Mansie  Waucli,  pub- 
lished separately  in  1828,  is  a  Scotch  classic.  And  some 
of  his  satirical  squibs  on  passing  events  were  written  with 
great  freshness  and  spirit.  Has  Outlines  of  the  Ancient 
History  of  Medicine  (1831)  evidence  his  industry  and  ver- 
satility of  talent.  His  Sl^etch  of  the  poetical  literature  of 
the  past  Half  Century  (1851)  is  more  remarkable  for  the 
grace  of  its  rhetorical  ornaments  than  for  depth  or  fresh- 
ness of  insight._ 

MOIR,  Geoege  (1800-1870),  author  of  the  treatises  on 
"  Poetry  "  and  "  Romance  "  in  the  seventh  edition  of  the 
Ihicyclopmlia  Britannica,  and  born  at  Aberdeen  in  1800, 
•was  an  Edinburgh  lawyer  of  very  varied  accomplishments. 
He  was  appointed  professor  of  rhetoric  in  1835,  professor 
of  Scots  law  in  1864  ;  he  had  a  considerable  success  at  the 
Scottish  Bar,  was  successively  sheriff  of  Rosa  and  sheriff 
of  Stirling,  and  was  a  frequent  contributor  to  Blaclcwoo(ts 
Magazine.  Moir  honourably  maintained  the  literary  tradi- 
tions of  Edinburgh  law.  He  was  a  man  of  very  wide 
■reading,  catholic  sympathy,  and  fastidious  taste,  alive  to 
-very  various  degrees  and  kinds  of  excellence  in  literature, 
but  too  critical  and  hard  to  please  to  do  justice  to  his  own 
■wealth  of  ideas.     He  died  in  1870. 

MOISSAC,  chief  town  of  an  arrondissement  in  the 
department  of  Tarn-et-Garonne,  France,  is  situated  on  the 
right  bank  of  the  Tarn,  and  on  the  railway  line  from  Bor- 
deaux to  Cette,  1 7  miles  west-north-west  of  Montauban.  The 
church  of  St  Peter,  belonging  to  the  1  5th  centuj-y,  has  a 
doorway  of  the  12th  century,  remarkoble  for  its  elaborate 
and  beautiful  sculpture,  representing  Scriptural  scenes. 
Connected  with  the  choir  of  the  church  is  a  cloister  dating 
from  the  beginning  of  the  12th  century,  and  one  of  the 
finest  specimens  of  this  kind  of  building  in  France  ;  the 
pointed  arches  are  supported  by  small  columns  with 
sculptured  capitals.  The  town  has  a  large  trade  in  com 
and  flour,  and  the-mills  afford  employment  to  a  considerable 
number  of  persons.     The  population  in  1881  was  9202. 

Tlie  town  owes  its  origin  to  an  abbey  founded  between  630 
and  640  by  St  Amand,  the  friend  of  Dagobert.  After  being 
devastated  by  the  Saracens,  the  abbey  was  restored  by  I^ouis  of 
Aquitaine,  eon  of  Charlemagne.  Subsequently  it  was  made  de- 
pendent on  Cluny,  biit  in  1618  it  was  secularized  by  Pope  Paul 
v.,  and  replaced  by  a  house  of  Aiigustinian  monks,  wduch  was 
suppressed  at  the  Revolution.  The  town,  which  was  erected  into 
a  commune  in  the  13th  century,  was  taken  by  Richard  Coour  do 
Lion,  uud  by  Simon  de  Montfort 

MOKADDASl  Shams  al-D(n  Abu  AbdallAh  Molmm- 
med  ibn  Ahmad  al-Moljaddasf,  i.e.,  of  Jerusalem,  also  called 
al-Bash-'liarl,  was  the  author  of  a  famous  description  of  the 
lands  of  Islam,  which  much  surpasses  the  earlier  worlcs  of 
the  same  kind.  His  paternal  grandfather  was  an  architect 
of  eminence,  who  con.strnotccl  many  public  works  in  Pales- 


tine, and  his  mother's  family  was  opulent.  Ho  was  himself 
a  v/cll-educated  and  talented  man,  with  an  .exorbitant  idea 
of  his  ov.n  qualities,  and  some  curious  affectations,  such  as 
that  of  imitating  for  each  region  the  dialect  of  its  inhabit- 
ants. His  descriptions  rest  on  very  extensive  travels 
continued  through  a  long  series  of  years.  His  first  pilgrim- 
age was  made  at  the  age  of  twenty,  but  his  book  was  not 
published  till  a.h.  375  (985-6  a.d.),  when  he  was  forty 
years  old.  The  two  MSS.  (at  Berlin  and  Constantinople) 
represent  a  later  recension  (a.h.  378).  The  book  became 
known  in  Europe  through  the  copy  brought  from  India 
by  Sprenger,  and  was  edited  by  De  Goeje  in  1877  as  the 
third  part  of  his  Bihlioih.  Geographorum  Arahicorum. 

MOKANNA  l^Al-Mokanna^,  "the  veiled")  was,  as 
explained  above,  p.  580,  the  surname  given  to  Hakim,  or 
'Ati,  a  man  of  unknown  parentage,  originally  a  fuller  in 
Merv,  who  posed  as  ah  incamation  of  Deity,  and  headed 
a  revolt  in  Ivhorisin  against  the  caliph  Mahdi.  Much  is 
related  of  his  magical  arts,  especially  of  a  moonlike  light 
visible  for  ati  enormous  distance  which  he  made  to  rise  from 
a  pit  near  Kaklishab.  He  died  by  poison  in  a.h.  163 
(779-80  A.D.). 

JIOKSHAN,  a  town  of  Russia,  situated  in  the  govern- 
ment of  Penza,  27  miles  to  the  north-west  of  the  capital  of 
the  province,  and  1 8  miles  from  the  Ranzay  railway  station. 
It  has  HjSOO  inhabitants,  who  are  engaged  in  agriculture, 
or  work  in  flour-mills,  oil-works,  tanneries,  and  potash- 
works.  A  few  merchants  export  corn  and  flour.  Mokshan, 
which  was  built  in  1535  as  a  fort  to  protect  the  coimtry 
from  the  raids  of  the  Tatars  and  Kalmuks,  is  suppos-2d 
to  occupy  the  site  of  the  town  of  Mescheryaks,  Murundra, 
mentioned  as  early  as  the  9th  century.  It  has  begun 
rapidly  to  increase  since  the  railway  between  Moscow  aiid 
Penza  was  made. 

MOLA,  or  MoLA  di  Baei,  a  seaport  tc■^^•n  of  Italy,  in  the 
province  of  Bari,  13  miles  from  Bari  on  the  railway  to 
Brindisi.  It  is  an  old-fashioned  place  ■nith  irregular  streets, 
but  outside  of  the  walls  several  new  districts  have  groiMi 
up.  The  foreign,  and  to  some  extent  also  the  coasting, 
trade  has  considerably  declined  since  1863,  and  the  com- 
munal population  has  decreased  from  12,574  in  1861  to 
12,435  in  1881.  Little  is  known  about  the  early  history 
of  Mola  ;  it  was  sold  by  Alphonso  I.  to  Landolfo  Maramoldo 
in  1436,  and  ten  years  afterwards  to  Niocolo  Tovaldo. 

MOIASSES.     See  Sugar. 

MOLAY,  Jacques  de,  a  native  of  Biu'gundy,  becams 
grand-master  of  the  order  of  the  Temple  in  1298,  and 
was  the  last  who  held  that  dignity.  He  was  burned  at  the 
stake  in  1314.     See  Teitplars. 

MOLDAVIA.     See  Rouii.iJiiA 

MOLE  (contracted  form  of  mould-warp,  i.e.,  mould- 
caster),  a  term  restricted  in  England  to  the  common  mole 
{Talpa  europxa),  a  small,  soft-furred,  burrowing  mamma), 
%vith  minute  eyes,  and  broad  fossorial  fore  feet,  belonging 
to  the  order  Jnsectivora  and  family  TalpiJa;  but  generally 
applied  elsewhere  to  any  underground  burrowing  animal 
of  the  class  ilammalia.  Thus,  in  North  America  we  find, 
representing  the  same  family,  the  star-nosed  moles  {Con- 
dylura),  and  the  shrew  moles  {Scalops  and  Scapamis) ;  in 
Souti  Africa,  the  golden  moles  of  the  far-removed  family 
Chrysochlotidx ;  and  in  South-East  Europe,  Asia,  and 
South  Africa,  the  rhizophagous  rodent  moles  of  the  order 
Rodcntia  and  families  Spalacidx  and  Miiridx  (see  Mam- 
malia, vol.  XV.  pp.  405,  419,  figs.  64  and  96). 

Talpa  curopma,  the  Common  Mole,  type  oi  the  genus 
Talpa,^  is  about  six  inches  in  length,  of  which  the  tail 
measures  somewhat  more  than  an  inch ;  the  body  is  long 


*  Ei^ht  species  may  be  recognized,  and  i 
dentition,  as  follows  : — 


ngod,  according  to  tlieir 


MOLE 


609 


»nd  cylindrical,  and,  owing  to  tlie  very  anterior  position  of 
the  forelimbs,  the  head  appears  to  rest  between  the 
shoulders;  the  muzzle  is  long  and  obtusely  pointed,  ter- 
minated by  the  nostrils,  which  are  close  together  in  front ; 
the  minute  eye  is  almost  hidden  by  the  frir ;  the  ear  is 
without  a  conch,  opening  on  a  level  with  the  surrounding 
integument ;  the  forelimbs  are  rather  short  and  very  mus- 
cular, terminating  in  broad,  naked,  shovel-shaped  feet,  the 
palms  normally  directed  outwards,  each  with  five  subequal 
digits  armed  with  strong  flattened  claws  ;  the  hind-feet,  on 
jthe  contrary,  are  long  and  narrow,  and  the  toes  are  provided 
with'  slender  claws.  The  body  is  densely  covered  with 
soft,  erect,  velvety  fur,— the  hairs  uniform  in  length  and 
thictness,  except  on  the  muzzle  and  short  taU,  the  former 
having  some  straight  vibrissas  on  its  sides,  whilst  the 
latter  is  clothed  with  longer  and  coarser  hairs.  The  fur  is. 
generally  black,  with  a  more^or  less  greyish  tinge,  or 
brownish -black,  but  various  ipaler  „  shades  up  to  piu-e 
white  have  been  observed. 

The  food  of  the  mole  consists 'chiefly  of  the  common 
earth-worm,  in  pursuit  of  which  it  forms  its  weU-knpwn 
underground  excavations.  Its  habits,  so  difficult  to  observe, 
were  many  years  ago  most  patiently  studied  and  described 
by  M.  Henri  le  Court.  Like  many  other  mammals  the 
mole  has  a  lair  or  fortress  to  which  it  may  retire  for 
security.  This  is  constructed  with  much  ingenuity.  It 
consists  of  a  central  nest  formed  imder  a  hiUock  which  is 
placed  in  some  protected  situation,  as  under  a  bank,  or 
between  the  roots  of  trees.  The  nest,  which  is  lined  with 
dried  grass  or  leaves,  communicates  with  the  main-run  by 
four  passages,  one  of  which  only  joins  it  directly,  leading 
downwards  for  a  short  distance  and  then  ascending  again ; 
the  other  three  are  directed  upwards  and  communicate  at 
regular  intervals  with  a  circular  gaUeiy  constructed  in  the 
upper  part  of  the  hillock,  which  in  turn  communicates  by 
five  passages  leading  downwards  and  outwards  with  another 
much  larger  gallery  placed  lower  down  on  a  level  with  the 
central  nest,  from  which  passages  proceed  outwards  in 
diSerent  directions,  one  only  communicating  directly  with 
the  main-run,  while  the  others,  curving  rovmd,  soon  join, 
or  end  in  culs-de-sac.  The  main-run  is  somewhat  wider 
than  the  animal's  body,  its  walls  are  smooth,  and  formed 
of  closely  compressed  earth,  its  depth  varying  according 
to  the  nature  of  the  soil,  but  ordinarily  from  four  to  six 
inched  Along  this  tunnel  the  animal  passes  backwards  and 
forwards  several  times  daily,  and  here  traps  are  laid  by 
mole-catchers  for  its  capture.  From  the  main-run  numerous 
passages  are  formed  on  each  side,  along  which  the  animal 
hunts  its  prey,  throwing  out  the  soil  in  the  form  of  mole- 
hills. The  mole  is  the  most  voracious  of  mammals,  and, 
if  deprived  of  food,  is  said  to  succumb  in  from  ten  to 
twelve  hoxirs.  Almost  any  kind  of  flesh  is  eagerly  devom-ed 
by  captive  moles,  which  have  been  seen  by  various  observers, 
as  if  maddened  by  hunger,  to  attack  animals  nearly  as 
large  as  themselves,  such  as  birds,  lizards,  frogs,  and  even 
snakes ;  toads,  however,  they  will  not  touch,  and  no  form 
of  vegetable  food  attracts  their  notice.  If  two  moles  be 
confined  together  without  food,  the  weaker  is  invariably 
devoured  by  the  stronger.  They  take  readily  to  the  water — 
Sn  this  respect,  as  well  as  in  external  form,  resembling  their 


{X.)  i.  I,  c.  J,  pna.  i,  m.  | 
(B.)  i.  J,  c.  i,  pm.  I,  pi.  J 


2  (r.  Kogura). 

2  (r.  eitropsa,  CBBcat  longirostrU, 

(C.l  L  3,  c.  -J,  prm.  \,  m.-f  x  2  {T.  Icucnira,  Uptura).' 

(D.)  i.  I,  c.  \,  prm.  |,  m.  J  x  2  (T.  moschata). 
'E-^cept  in  T.  europseOy  the  eyes  are  covered  by  a  membrane."^- In 
T.  m-icmra  the  short  tail  is  concealed  by  the  fur.  T.  europsBa  ex- 
tends from  Eb^land  to  Japan.  T.  cseca  is  found  south  of  the  Alps,  the 
remaining  species  are  all  Asiatic,  and  of  them  two  only — T.  micrura 
and  T.  Uucrura — occur  south  of  the  Himalayas.  (See  Dobson,  Mono- 
graph ()flhe  Insedivora,  Part  ii.,  1883.) 


representatives  on  the  North  American  continent.  Bruce, 
writing  in  1793,  remarks  that  he  saw  a  mole  paddling 
towards  a  small  island  in  the  Loch  of  Clunie,  180  yards 
from  land,  on  which  he  noticed  molehills. 

The  sexes  come  together  about  the  second  week  in 
March,  and  the  young — generally  from  four  to  six  in 
number — which  are  brought  forth  in  about  six  weeks,' 
quickly  attain  their  full  size. 

Th«  mole  exhibits  in  its  whole  organization  the  most  perfect' 
adaptation  to  its  peculiar  mode  of  life.  In  the  structure  of  the 
skeleton  very  striking 
departui'es  fi-om  the 
typical  mammalian 
forms  are  noticeable. 
The  first  sternal  bone 
is  so  much  produced 
anteriorly  as  to  extend 
forward  as  far  as  a 
vertical  line  let  down 
from  the  second  cervi- 
cal  vertebra,  carrying 
with  it  the  very  short 
almost  quadrate  cla- 
■yicles,  wnich  are  arti- 
culated with  its  an- 
terior extremity  and 
distally  with  the  hu-" 
men,  being  also  con- 
nected ligamentously 
with  the  scapulae.  The 
forelimbs  are  thus 
brought  opposite  the 
sides  of  the  neck,  and 
from  this  position  a 
threefold  adVautage  is 
derived  : — in  the  first 
place,  as  this  is  the 
naiTowest  part  of  the 
body,  they  add  but 
little  to  the  general 
width,  which,  it  in- 
creased, would  lessen 
the  power  of  move- 
ment in  a  confined 
space  ;  secondly,  this 
posirioa  allows  of  a 
longer  forelimb  than 
would  othei-wise  be 
possible,  and  so  in- 
creases its  lever  power; 
and,  thirdly,  although 
the  entire  limb  is  rela- 
tively very  short,  its  ,,  ,  „  « 
anterior  position  en-  Skeleton  of  Mole  x  J  (lower  jaw  removed  td 
ables  the  animal,  when  «'"'■"  '>'^»  <>'  ^ku")- 
burrowilie  to  thrust  ^>  calcaneum  ;  eft.,  clavicular  artlcuiatioa  of  the 
*i  ,  °'  ft  humerus  :  cl.,  clavicle  ;  e.c,  external  condyle  of  hn- 
the  claws  so  lar  tor-  ^j^^, .  ^^  j^^^ .  yj^  ^.b^jj, .  ^^  biciform  bons 
ward  as  to  be  in  a  line  (radial  sesamoid);  ft,  humerus;  i.c,  latemal  condyle 
with  the  end  of  the  of  humerus ;  it,  left  iliac  bouc ;  i.p,  ramus  of  the 
Ttiu77li>  thpitiiTinrtance  ilium  and  pubis  ;  is.,  ischium  ;  l.d,  ridge  of  insertion 
muzzle, tneimportance  „(  i^tissimus  dorsi  muscle:  U,  lesser  trochanter; 
ot  which  13  e^aaent.^  j^,  manubrium  Btemi  ;  o,  fomtn  hypapophysial  80- 
Posteriorly,  W'e  find  the  samoid  ossicle  ;  oi,  olecranon  ;  p.,  pubic  bone  widely 
hind  limbs  similarly  separatedfrom  that  ofthe  opposite  aide;  pa.,  patella; 
,  i.  p  *v  p.m.,  ridge  for  insertion  of  pectoralis major  muscle; 
id    out    ot    the  ^,^  pectineal  eminence;  r,  radius  ;r6riirs.t  rib  ;  < 


icLuuYcu  uut  ux  fciii.  p(^  pectineal  eminence;  r,  radius;  rb,  nrst  no;  e, 
way  by  approximation  plantar  sesamoid  ossicle  corresponding  to  the  radial 
of  the  hip  -  ioints  to  sesamoid  (OS  falciform)  In  the  manna ;  »c.,  scapula ; 
the  centre  line  of  the  J;*-i^'"*''  "rtlculafaon  ot  the  humerus ;  (,  tibu ; 
body.   This  is  effected     ' 

by  inward  curvature  of  the  innominate  bones  at  the  acetabula 
to  such  an  extent  that  they  almost  meet  in  the  centre,  while  tha 
pubic  bones  are  widely  separated  behind. ^     The  shortness  of  the 


x„  ...  most  interesting  to  observe  how,  in  the  golden  moles 
{Cliryxochloridm)  of  South  Africa,  the  necessary  modifications  of.Uia 
corresponding  parts  of  the  body  and  limbs  fitting  them  for  fossorial 
action  and  underground  progression  have  been  brought  about  in  a 
totally  different  manner.  In  them  the  manubrium  sterai  is  l^ot 
anteriorly  elongated,  neither  are  the  clavicles  shortened  ;  but  this  is 
made  up  for  by  a  deep  hollowing  out  of  the  antero-lateral  walls  of  the 
thorai,  the  ribs  in  these  parts  and  the  sternum  being  convex  inw,iTds, 
the  long  clavicles  have  their  distal  extremities  pushed  forward,  and  the 
concavities  on  the  sides  and  inferior  surface  of  the  thorax  lodje  the 
thick  muscular  arms.  ,  . 

''  In  Jacobs's  Talpw  Europeie  Analome  (Jena,  1816)  thispart  of  tna 
pelvic  -wall  (marked ^<  in  the  fig.)  was  identified  with  the  symphysis 
XYL  —  77 


610 


M  O  L  — M  O  L 


forelimb  is  due  to  the  humerus,  ■which,  like  the  clavicle,  is  so 
much  reduced  in  length  as  to  present  the  appearance  of  a 
flattened  X-shaped  bone,  with  prominent  ridges  aud  deep  depres- 
sions for  the  aitachmeDts  and  origins  of  the  powerful  muscles 
connected  with  it.  Its  proximal  extremity  presents  two  rounded 
prominences :  the  smaller,  the  true  head  of  the  bone,  articulates  as 
usual  with  the  scapula  ;  the  larger,  which  is  really  the  external 
tuberosity  rounded  off,  forms  a  separate  synovial  joint  with  the  end 
of  the  clavicle.  This  double  articulation  gives  to  a  naturally  loose 
joint  the  rigidity  necessary  to  support  the  gieat  lateral  pressure 
sustained  by  the  forelimb  in  excavating.  The  forearm  bones  are 
normal,  but  those  of  the  forefeet  are  much  flattened  and  laterally 
expanded.  The  great  width  of  the  forefoot  is  also  partly  due  to 
the  presence  of  a  peculiar  falciform  bone,  lying  on  the  inner  side  of 
the  palm  and  articulating  by  its  proximal  extremity  with  the  wrist. 
Into  the  radial  side  and  under  surface  of  this  bone  is  inserted  a 
tendon  derived  from  that  of  the  palmaris  longus  muscle,  which, 
acting  upon  it  as  an  abductor,  separates  it  fiom  the  side  of  the 
palm,  and  so  increases  the  width  of  the  latter,  at  the  same  time 
rendering  the  palmar  integument  tense. 

The  muscles  acting  on  these  remarkably  modified  limbs  are  all 
homologous  with  those  of  the  cursorial  insectivora,  differing  only 
in  their  relative  development  The  tendon  of  the  biceps  traverses 
a  long  osseous  tunnel,  formed  by  the  great  expansion  of  the  margin 
of  the  bicipital  groove  for  the  insertion  of  the  large  pectoralis  major 
muscle  ;  the  anterior  division  of  the  latter  muscle  is  unconnected 
■with  the  sternum,  extending  across  as  a  muscular  band  between  the 
humeri,  and  co-ordinating  the  motions  of  the  forelimbs.  The  teres 
major  and  latissimus  dorsi  muscle«  are  of  immense  size,  probably 
relatively  larger  than  in.  any  other  mammal,  and  are  inserted  to- 
gether into  the  prominent  ridge  below  the  pectoral  attachment ; 
they  are  the  principal  agents  in  the  excavating  action  of  the  limb. 
The  cervical  muscles  connecting  the  slender  scapulae,  and  through 
them  the  forelimbs,  with  the  centre  line  of  the  neck  and  with  the 
occiput  Are  large,  and  the  Ugamentum  nuchae  between  them  is 
ossified  (a3  in  all  true  moles) ;   the  latter  condition  appears  to  bo 


due  to  the  jjrolopgation  forwards  of  the  sternum  {described  abovej, 
preventing  all  flexion  of  the  head  downwards ;  and,  accordingly,  tha 
normal  oflice  of  the  ligament  being  lost,  it  ossifies,  and  so  aSbrda  a 
more  fixed  point  for  the  origins  of  the  superficial  cervical  muscles. 

The  skull  is  long,  with  slender  zygomatic  arches  ;  the  nasal  bonr3 
are  strong  and  early  become  united,  and  in  front  of  them  the  no£triJ:i 
are  continued  fonvards  in  tubes  foimed  of  thick  cartilage,  the  ser- 
tum  between  which  becomes  partially  or  wholly  ossified  beneath. 
There  are  7  cervical,  13  dorsal,  6  limibar,  6  sacral,  and  10-12  caudal 
vertebrae  ;  of  the  dorsal  and  lumbar  there  may  be  one  vertebra 
more  or  less.  The  sacral  vertebrae  are  united  by  their  greatly  ex- 
panded and  laterally  compressed  spinous  processes,  and  all  the 
others,  with  the  exception  of  the  cervical,  are  very  closely  and  solidly 
articulated  together,  so  as  to  siipport  the  powerful  propulsive  zwi 
fossorial  actions  of  the  limbs.  Dentition  :  i.  |,  c.  ■},  prm.  ^,  m.  g, 
X  2  =  44  teeth.  The  upper  incisors  are  simple  chisel-edged  teeth  ; 
the  canine  is  long  and  two-rooted  ;  then  follow  three  subequal 
conical  premolars,  and  a  fourth,  much  larger,  and  like  a  canine; 
these  are  succeeded  by  three  molars  with  "W -shaped  cusps.  In  tha 
lower  jaw  the  three  incisors  on  each  side  are  slightly  smaller,  and 
slant  more  forwards  ;  close  behind  them  is  a  tooth  which,  though 
quite  like  them,  must,  from  its  position  in  fiontof  the  upper  canines 
when  the  jaws  are  closed,  be  considered  as  the  canine  ;  behind  it, 
but  separated  by  an  interval,  ia  a  large  double-rooted  conical  tooth, 
the  first  premolar  ;  the  three  following  premolars  are  like  the  corre- 
sponding teeth  above,  but  smaller,  and  are  succeeded,  as  above, 
by  three  molars. 

The  geographical  distribution  of  the  common  mole  may  be  said 
to  exceed  that  of  all  the  other  known  species  of  the  genus  to  whidi 
it  belongs  taken  together.  It  extends  from  England  to  Japan, 
and  from  the  Dovre-Fjeld  Mountains  in  Scandinavia  and  the  Middle 
Dwina  region  in  Russia  to  southcra  Europe  and  the  southern  slopes 
of  the  Himalayas,  where  it  occurs  at  an  -elevation  of  10,000  feet. 
In  Great  Britain  it  is  found  as  far  north  as  Caithness,  but  in  Ireland, 
and  in  the  Western  Isles  of  Scotland  (except  Mull)  it  is  altogether 
unknown.  (G.  E.  D.) 


MOLECULE 


IN  the  conception  of  the  atomic  as  opposed  to  the  con- 
tinuous and  infinitely  divisible  constitution  of  matter, 
it  is  supposed  that  portions  of  matter  called  atoms  exist, 
.■which  are  separated,  or  are  capable  of  being  separated,  from 
«ach  other  by  empty  space.  (See  Atom).  It  may  be  the 
case  th  t  each  atom  has  unchangeable  shape  and  volume 
as  well  as  unchangeable  mass,  but  such  a  conception  of 
an  atom  is  not  essential  to  the  hypothesis.  It  is  not  even 
necessary,  as  explained  in  the  article  Atom  (voL  iii.,  pp. 
37,  38),  to  maintain  that  no  part  of  space  can  be  in  two 
atoms  at  the  same  time.  But  one  attribute  of  the  atom 
npon  which  its  permanence,  or,  so  to  speak,  its  personal 
identity,  depends,  is  its  Constituent  mass,  and  this  remains 
the  same,  unchanged  and  unchangeable,  through  all  time. 
Boscovich,  indeed,  goes  so  far  as  to  regard  the  atom  as 
a  mere  centre  of  force,  the  result  of  whose  existence  is  that 
no  two  atoms  or  centres  can  approach  each  other  within  a 
certain  distance,  while  other  physicists  regard  the  atomic 
Tolume  as  a  distinct  portion  of  space  occupied  by  that 
atom  to  the  exclusion  of  every  other,  and  comprising 
within  it  matter  ideally  infinitely  divisible,  but  the  parts 
of  which  in  fact  never  have  been,  and  never  can  be, 
Steparated  from  each  other.  In  this  latter  mode  of  viewing 
the  subject,  all  the  conclusions  of  mechanics  which  are 
based  on  the  conception  of  the  continuity  and  infinite  divi- 
pibility  of  matter  may  be  applied  to  the  equiUbriimi  or 
motion  of  each  individual  atom,  the  atomic  theory  merely 
introducing  the  additional  hypothesis  that,  in  fact,  these  per- 
sistent entities  called  atoms  do  exist,  and  that  out  of  them 
all  substances  which  affect  our  senses  are  constructed. 
tlhe  theory  of  universal  gravitation  requires  us  to  believe 
in  the  existence  of  forces  or  actions  between  every  portion 


pubis,  whcreos  the  true  pubic  bones  are  widely  separated  (as  ehowu  at 
jp).  In  this  miatako  ho  has  been  followed  by  most  comparative  anato- 
mists ;  and  hence  the  mole  is  generally  believed  to  present  the  unique 
peculiarity  that  the  outlets  of  the  urinary,  gooetiltivo,  and  digestive 
organs  do  not  pass  through  the  arch  of  the  pelvis. 


of  matter  and  every  other  portion,  determinate  in  magni- 
tude and  direction,  and  such  that,  when  on  the  infinitely 
divisible  hypothesis  the  volumes  of  these  portions  are 
indefinitely  diminished,  these  mutual  forces  are  inversely 
proportional  to  the  square  of  the  distance  between  the  por- 
tions (the  distance  between  any  two  points,  one  in  the 
volume  of  each  portion,  being  in  this  case  taken  as  tha 
distance  between  the  portions),  and  directly  proportional 
to  the  products  of  the  masses,  or  quantities  of  the  two 
portions  of  matter, — such  forces  being  regarded  provision- 
ally as  ultimate  facts,  while  inviting  fiu'ther  analysis  and 
explanation.  Chemical  and  chemico-physical  investigations 
indicate  the  existence  of  other  actions  between  portions  of 
matter,  following  other  and  for  the  most  part  unknown 
laws,  and  rapidly  becoming  inappreciable  as  the  distance 
between  the  reacting  portions  is  increased.  All  theee 
hypotheses  are  to  be  retained  on  the  hypothesis  of  discrete 
atoms  as  above  enunciated,  the  mutual  actions  between 
atoms  being  the  resultant  of  the  actions  between  the  various 
portions  of  their  constituent  matter.  The  volumes  of  the 
atoms  are  so  small  that,  for  any  sensible  distances  apart, 
the  line  of  the  resultant  mutual  action  between  them  may 
be  taken  as  coincident  with  the  line  joining  any  point  in 
the  volume  of  one  to  any  point  in  the  volume  of  the  other, 
but,  for  distances  or  parts  comparable  with  the  linear 
dimensions  of  the  atoms,  the  size  and  shape  of  their  bound- 
ing surfaces  must  be  taken  into  consideration,  and  perhaps 
also  the  law  of  distribution  of  their  constituent  matter 
within  that  surface.  In  all  respects,  unless  we  accept  the 
Boscovichian  hypothesis,  we  simply  regard  the  atom  as 
made  up,  so  to  speak,  of  infinitely  divisible  matter,  while 
substances,  as  we  know  them,  are  built  up  of  indestrucliblo 
and  unchangeable  atoms. 

With  this  conception  of  an  atom,  as  thus  explained;  wa 
might  be  content  to  rest,  confessing  our  total  ignorance  ol 
the  mode  in  which  such  atoms  are  built  up  into  actual 
substances,  being  satisfied  to  regard  such  substances  as 


MOLECULE 


611 


composed  of  these  distinct  portions  of  matter  separated,  or 
capable  of  being  separated,  by  empty  space  fk-om  other 
portions.  But  the  iaolemdar  hypothesis  of  the  constitution 
of  different  kinds  of  substances  aims  at  analysing  this 
process  by  which  such  substances  are  built  up  out  of  their 
constituent  atoms.  The  molecule  of  any  substance  is,  by 
some  chemists,  defined  as  being  the  smallest  portion  of  that 
Bubstance  to,  which  can  be  attributed  all  the  chemical  pro- 
perties of  the  substance ;  by  others,  as  the  smallest  portion 
which,  so  loag  as  the  substance  is  chemically  unchanged, 
keeps  together  without  complete  separation  of  its  parts. 
In  the  langiuge  of  Clausius's  theorem,  if  the  parts  of  the 
molecule  have  internal  motion,  the  Hnetic  energy  of  such 
internal  motion  is  equal  to  the  virial  of  the  mutual  attrac- 
tive forces  of  the  parts.  Thus  the  formation  of  the  mole- 
cule of  each  particular  substance  is  viewed  as  an  essential 
step  in  the  process  of  buOding  up  that  substance  out  of 
its  constituent  atoms.  The  molecule  is  first  bmlt  up  out 
of  atoms  arranged  in  its  formation  according  to  a  definite 
type,  and  then  the  substance  itself  is  constituted  of  these 
molecules.  Of  course  molecules  may  be,  and  in  fact  in 
many  particular  substances  are,  supposed  to  be  mou- 
atomic ;  that  is  to  say,  the  intermediate  step  of  building 
np  the  molecule  out  of  the  atoms  has,  in  these  particular 
substances,  been  omitted,  the  atoms  and  molecules  becom- 
ing then  identical.  The  particular  arrangement  of  the 
formed  molecules  in  the  building  up  of  the  substance  de- 
termines the  physical  state  of  that  substance, — that  is, 
its  fluid,  solid,  gaseous,  crystalline,  or  amorphous  state; 
but  the  chemical  properties  of  the  substance  depend  upon 
the  constitution  of  the  molecule.  As  the  investigations 
and  theories  of  chemistry  appear  to  indicate  irresistibly 
the  existence  of  permanent  atoms,  so  do  they  also  lead 
almost  as  necessarily  to  the  conception  of  the  molecule 
as  an  entity  which  bears  the  same  relation  to  special 
substances  that  the  atoms  bear  to  matter  generally.  So 
long  as  the  molecule  endures,  the  substance  of  which  it 
is  the  molecule  retains  its  chemical  properties ;  with  the 
dissolution  of  the  molecule,  the  substance,  as  that  special 
substance,  perishes ;  the  atoms  alone  continue,  and  are  free 
to  enter  into  other  combinations.  The  permanence  of  the 
molecule  is  relative,  that  of  the  atom  absolute.  This  con- 
ception of  the  molecular  constitution  of  substances  sug- 
gests physical  questions  of  great  interest,  such  as  the  shape, 
volume,  and  mass  of  the  constituent  molecules,  and  the 
relative  motions  of  which  their  parts  are  susceptible ;  and 
the  answers  to  these  questions  cannot  fail  to  be  of  great 
value  in  chemical  and  chemico-physical  investigations,  as 
well  as  in  the  theories  of  light  and  electricity. 

Now,  whatever  differences  may  exist  between  the  proper- 
ties of  difierent  substances  in  the  solid  and  liquid  states, 
there  are  certain  properties  which,  in  the  gaseous  state, 
manifest  themselves  with  no  variation  whatever  in  all  sub- 
stances alike.  Hence  the  explanation  of  these  common 
properties — or  gaseous  laws,  as  they  are  called — ^has  long 
possessed  a  peculiar  fascination  for  physicists.  The  tend- 
ency to  expand  or  fill  all  accessible  space,  manifested  by 
all  gases,  proves  that  on  the  molecular  hypothesis  their 
compound  atoms  or  molecules  must  be  continually  tending 
to  fly  apart.  We  must  conceive  gases  as  constituted  of  mole- 
cules, not  Only  separable  but  actually  separated  by  space 
void  of  the  matter  of  which  these  gases  consist ;  and  it  may 
be  most  reasonably  expected,  therefore,  that  any  general 
lavrs  to  which  substances  in  this  state  conform  may  afford 
us  a  valuable  insight  into  the  constitution  of  these  separate 
molecules. 

Now  the  general  laws  to  which  all  gases  conform  are : 
(1)  BoyWt  law — that,  in  a  given  mass  of  any  gas  kept  at 
constant  temperature,  the  pressure  per  unit  of  area  upon 
the  cont^ining  surface  increases  in  the  same  proportion  as 


the  volume  occupied  by  the  gas  is  diminished,  or  at  least 
with  very  slight  deviation  from  exact  proportionality ;  (2) 
Charles's  law — that,  if  the  temperature  be  varied  while  the 
pressure  upon  the  gas  remains  the  same,  the  gas  increases 
hy  TTid  of  its  volume  at  zero  centigrade  for  every  degree 
of  centigrade  added  to  the  temperature,  or,  which  in  com- 
bination with  Boyle's  law  is  the  same  thing,  that  if  the 
density  be  constant,  the  pressure  is  directly  proportional  to 
the  temperature  measured  from  the  point  -  273°  centigrade, 
this  point  being  called  the  zero  of  absolute  temperature ; 
(3)  Avogadro's  law — which  asserts  that  aU  gases  at  the 
same  temperature  and  pressure  contain  the  same  number  of 
molecules  in  the  same  volume ;  and  (4)  Daltmi's  law — that 
in  a  mixture  of  different  gases,  when  there  is  equilibrium, 
each  gas  behaves  as  a  vacuum  to  all  the  rest. 

It  was  at  one  time  considered  that  these  phenomena 
might  be  explained  on  the  hypothesis  of  muttial  repulsive 
forces  between  the  parts  of  which  the  gas  is  composed, 
whether  they  were  regarded  as  constituted  of  molecules  or 
of  infinitely  divisible  continuous  matter,"-  but  it  has  been 
shown  in  the  article  Atom  (vol  iii.  p.  39  sq.)  that  there 
are  at  least  two  absolutely  conclusive  reasons  why  this  ex- 
planation cannot  be  accepted.  These  objections,  together 
with  the  experimental  fact  proved  by  Joule  that  gases,  or  at 
any  rate  atmospheric  air,  expand  into  vacuum  with  scarcely 
any  appreciable  change  of  temperature,  must  be  considered 
fatal  to  any  mutual-force  thtory  of  gaseous  action,  and, 
accordingly,  physicists  have  been  driven  to  seek  for  other 
methods  of  explaining  these  laws.  The  explanation  which 
has  been  more  developed  than  any  other  is  that  known  as 
the  kinetic  theory  of  gases,  which  regards  the  intrinsic 
energy  of  a  gaseous  mass  as  residing,  not  in  the  potential 
energy  of  intermolecular  forces,  but  mainly  in  the  kinetic 
energy  of  the  molecules  themselves,  which  are  assumed  to 
be  in  a  state  of  continual  relative  velocity,  admitting  at 
the  same  time  a  possible  small  intermolecular  potential 
energy,  and  it  may  be  also  an  interatomic  energy,  between 
the  atoms  of  the  individual  molecules.  That  some  such 
persistent  relative  motion  does  exist  in  every  gaseous  masa 
is  evident  from  the  rapidity  with  which  odours  penetrate 
the  stillest  air  where  no  breath  of  wind — that  is,  of  absolute 
motion  of  translation  of  the  mass  as  a  whole  or  any  portion 
of  finite  size — is  perceptible.  It  becomes  an  interesting 
question  whether  the  laws  of  mechanics  admit  of  a  masa 
thus  constituted  ever  arriving  at  a  state  of  permanence ; 
that  is  to  say,  whether,  consistently  with  the  hypothesis  of 
infinite  irregularities  in  the  directions  and  magnitudes  of: 
velocities  of  individual  molecules,  there  may  be  found  anyf 
properties  of  the  mass  in  the  aggregate  which  remain 


^  An  argument  in  favour  of  the  molecular  constitution  of  gases,  to 
which  attention  was  first  called  by  Professor  Osborne  Reynolds 
(Memoir  '*  On  some  Dimensional  Properties  of  Matter  in  the  Gaseous 
State,"  PhU.  Trans.^  1879),  is  derived  from  certain  phenomena 
observed  in  highly-rarefied  gases,  and  in  the  transpiration  of  gases 
through  porous  plates.  If,  according  to  this  argument,  we  hrvd  in  a 
gas  ta  do  with  a  continuous  plenum,  such  that  every  portion  must 
possess  the  same  properties,  then  these  properties  must  exist  inde- 
pendently of  the  amount  of  gas  contained  in  any  space,  although 
their  sensible  effects  might  be  increased  or  diminished  by  a  variation 
in  that  amount.  If,  then,  we  can  find  properties  of  a  gas  depending 
on  the  size  of  the  space  in  which  it  is  enclosed,  and  on  the  quantity 
of  gas  enclosed  in  this  space,  we  have  proof  that  gas  is  not  continuous 
— in  other  words,  possesses  dimensional  structure.  Such  properties 
we  do  find  in  highly-rarefied  gases,  as,  for  instance,  in  the  pheno- 
mena of  Crooke's  radiometer.  The  motion  of  the  vanes  when  one 
side  is  heated  by  incident  rays  appears  to  depend  on  the  distance 
between  the  vane  and  the  containing  walls  of  the  vessel  bearing  some 
not  very  high  ratio  to  the  distance  between  the  particles  or  molecules 
of  the  gas.  At  least  no  satisfactory  explanation  of  the  phenomena 
consistent  with  the  gas  being  continuous  has  yci  been  suggested. 

Again,  Professor  O.  Reynolds,  from  his  experiments  on  the  trans- 
piration of  gases  through  a  porous  plate,  finds  a  relation  between  th» 
gas  and  the  coarseness  or  fineness  of  the  plate,  which  would  not  exist 
were  the  gas  continuous. 


612 


MOLECULE 


constant,  and  in  agreement  with  the  accepted  laws  common 
to  all  gases.  Now  the  physical  theory  of  heat  compels  us 
to  regard  the  intrinsic  energy  of  any  gaseous  mass  as  de- 
pendent entirely  or  almost  entirely  upon  the  temperature. 
If,  therefore,  this  intrinsic  energy  is  to  be  sought  for  in 
the  kinetic  energy  of  the  moving  molecules,  it  follows 
that  the  average  value  of  the  kinetic  energy  of  the  mole- 
cules taken  throughout  the  mass  must  be  also  a  function 
of  the  temperature. 

We  will  proceed  to  investigate  the  condition  of  per- 
manence of  a  number  of  molecules  moving  about  irregu- 
larly in  any  bounded  space ;  and,  for  simplicity's  sake,  we 
shall  first  of  all  restrict  ourselves  to  the  case  of  monatomic 
molecules. 

We  know  nothing  of  the  size  or  shape  of  these  atoms, 
except  that  the  volume  of  each  one  must  be  incomparably 
smaller  than  that  of  the  containing  region.  In  shape  we 
shall,  as  the  simplest  hypothesis,  regard  them  as  spherical. 
We  shall  suppose  that  there  are  no  iutermolecular  forces 
between  any  two  such  atoms,  except  of  such  a  nature  as 
to  be  practically  insensible  when  the  atoms  are  not  geo- 
metrically in  contact,  and  similarly  as  regards  the  forces 
between  the  atoms  and  the  material  bounding  surface, 
such  forces  being  of  the  nature  called  "  conservative."  So 
that  in  point  of  fact  we  are  investigating  the  mechanical 
properties  of  an  infinitely  large  number  of  infinitely  small 
and  perfectly  elastic  spheres  moving  about  in  a  given 
region  and  subject  to  frequent  collisions. 

Problem.  — A  very  large  number  of  smooth  elastic  splieres,  equal  in 
every  respectf  are  in  motion  within  a  region  of  space  of  given  volume, 
and  tkerefo:  c  occasionally  impinge  upon  each  other  with  various 
degrees  of  relative  velocity  and  in  various  relative  directions;  re- 
qvired  to  find  the  law  of  distributimi  of  velocities  in  order  thai  such 
distribution  may  be  permanent. 

Let  N  be  the  total  number  of  spheres,  and  let 


X(«. 


'v)  du  dv  dw 


be  the  number  of  spheres  whose  component  velocities,  parallel  to 
the  axes,  are  intermediate  between  u  and  u  +  du,  v  and  v  +  dv, 
w  and  w  +  dw  respectively. 

If  c  be  the  resultant  velocity  of  any  of  these  last-mentioned 
spheres,  and  if  #  be  the  inclination  of  c  to  the  axis  of  s,  and  0  that 
of  the  plane  cz  to  the  plane  xz,  the  last-mentioned  e^cpression  will 
become,  by  changes  of  the  independent  variables  frofe  x,  y,  z  to 
0,  <p,  and  e, 

X  (",  V,  w)  c-  sin  e  de  dtp  de. 
Let  a  spherical  surface  of  radius  unity  be  described  about  any 
origin  as  centre,  and  let  rfcr  be  written  for  the  element  sin  e  dd  dtp 
on  this  surface,  then  the  last-written  expression  becomes 

X  [u,  V,  w)  c-  de  da. 
_  Since  for  the  same  magnikude  of  the  resultant  velocities  all  direc- 
tions of  motion  must  be  equally  probable,  it  follows  that  the  co- 
efficient  of  de  da  in  the  last-written  expression  must  be  a  function 
of  c  only,  and  therefore  the  number  of  spheres  having  component 
velocities  between  u  and  u  -f-  dii.,  t.  and  d  -h  dv,  w  and  w  -H  dw. 
niust  be 

^  {e)  du  dv  dw. 
It  is  required  to  find  the  form  of  yUn  order  that  the  value  of 
this  expression  may  be  unaffected  by  collisions.     The  solution  is, 
that  the  number  of  spheres  with  component  velocities  between  the 
limits  M  iniu  +  du,  v  and  v  +  dv,  w  and  w  +  dw  must  be 

Ae-'"^  dudvdw; 
<"•  Ae->''\^  dc  d<r, 

cmplojang  tlio  notation  already  used. 

Integrating  with  respect  to  d<i  from  0  to  ir,  wo  find  for  the 
mimber  of  spheres  with  velocities  between  cMiic  +  dc  the  expression 


4w  Ae 


'de. 


.^gain,  since  the  number  with  component  velocities  betfreen  u 
and  u  +  du,  tiand  v  +  dv,  w  and  w  +  dw  is 

Ae-''('^  +  o'  +  <"'^dudvdu>, 
or  (VA-e-'"''dU.)      (yZ«-»"»di,)      (VAe-'^<"'-dw). 

it  fol'owa  that  the  number  of  spheres  having  velocities  intermediate 
be'wocn  «  and  u  +  du  parallel  to  the  x  azia  is 


•^  duj     e  -  '"'-  dvj 


'  dw. 


du. 


where  A  is  to  be  determined  by  the  equations 
^A^ e-''-' du=N, 


^Tr=^: 


therefore 


A  = 


that  is  to  say,  the  number  of  sphered  having  velocities  between  c  an! 
c  +  dcia 

\/ir 
Multiplying  this  expression  by  c,  and  integrating  the  product  with 
regard  to  c  from  0  to  oo ,  and  dividing  by  N,  the  mean  velocity  for 
all  the  spheres  becomes 

2 

and  multiplying  by  c-  instead  of  by  c,  we  find  the  mean  square  of  all 
the  velocities  to  be 

Z_ 
2/t' 

In  the  preceding  investigation  no  account  has  been  taken  of 
collisions  between  the  spheres  and  the  enclosing  boundary  of  th^ 
region  in  which  they  are  contained,  because  in  every  such  collision 
the  magnitude  of  the  velocity  of  each  sphere  is  unaltered  and  its 
direction  is  changed  according  to  the  ordinary  law  of  reflexion, 
whence  it  is  evident  that  the  distribution  ia  unaffected  by  sulIi 
collisions.  Also,  the  investigation  has  been  confined  to  the  cases 
of  spTieres  colliding  in  paii-s,  but  since  there  need  be  no  limit  to 
the  smallness  of  the  interval  between  any  pair  of  collisions  th^ 
result  really  embraces  the  cases  of  simultaneous  collisions  betwe/'O 
three  or  more  spheres  ;  for  if  a  sphere  A  collides  with  another  JJ, 
and  immediately  afterwards  with  a  third  C,  the  resultant  velocity 
of  A  after  this  second  collision  must  be  the  same  as  if  it  had  col- 
lided with  B  and  C  simultaneously. 

The  foregoing  investigation  has  been  given  In  some  detail  because 
the  principles  upon  which  it  proceeds  are  essentially  the  same  as 
those  by  which  all  questions  of  the  distribution  of  energy  among  A 
great  number  of  mo\'ing  bodies  are  determined,  althougii  it  may  be 
found,  as  well  as  the  detailed  investigations  of  the  results  imme- 
diately following,  in  published  memoirs  and  systematic  treatises  oa 
the  kinetic  theory  of  gases. 

If  the  spheres  be  not  all  of  equal  mass,  but  if  there  be  within  the 
region  N  spheres  of  mass  m,  N^  of  mass  m',  and  so  on,  then  it  may 
be  proved,  by  reasoning  exactly  similar  to  the  foregoing,  that  when 
the  permanent  or  stable  state  of  motion  has  been  attained  the 
number  of  spheres  of  the  N  set  with  component  velocities  between 
u  and  u  +  du,  v  and  v  +  dv,  w  and  w-\-dio  vi 

Amc2 

Ac      2     dii,  dv  dw, 
and  the  number  of  the  N'  set  having  component  velocities  betR'cen 
u'  and  u'  +  du',  ^  and  i/  +  rfy',  w  and  vf  -^dvf,  is 


where  ^  —  xi^-vv^-Vv?,  c'^ 
for  both  sets,  and 


dxi  dif  du/, 
v'^  +  w'^,  7i  is  a  constant  the  tzv. 


^  ^r  V  2  ;  ' 


m 


and  so  on  if  there  be  any  other  sets. 
The  mean  veloftity  and  mean  square  velocity  of  each  sphere  of  tl." 

N set  are  

_?^      /  ^  and  — r  respectively, 

ard  the  moan  kinetic  energy  of  each  of  such  spheres  is 
3^ 
2A' 
the  last  result  being  common  to  all  the  set.^. 

If  the  spheres  in  the  given  region  be  acted  on  by  anf  given  forces 
tending  to  fixed  centres,  and  functions  of  the  distances  of  the  centivs 
of  the  spheres  from  the  centres  of  force,  we  may  not  in  such  r.iss 
a.ssume,  a  priori,  that  the  chances  of  velocities  in  all  directions  aic 
the  same  ;  but  wo  mav  assume  that  the  number  of  spheres  of  anv 
set  (N)  with  coordiiiatos  of  their  oontrcs  intonncdiate  betiT";'' 


MOLECULE 


613 


asandaj+rfx,  y  and  y+dy,  s  and  z  +  dz,  and  component  velocities 

intarmediate  between  u  and  u  +  du^  v  and  v  +  dv,  10  and  w+dzOf  is 

f  (x,  y,  z,  n,  V,  w)  dx  dy  dz  du  dv  dw. 

In  tlie  state  of  permanence  the  form  of  ^  mnst  be  independent 
of  the  time  (t),  so  long  as  the  sphere  is  moving  free  from  jeollisions 
with  any  other. 

From  the  last-mentioned  condition  it  must  follow  that,  if  ^i  =  «i, 
^,  =  a.^  &c.,  be  any  equations  among  the  variables  determining  the 
position  and  motion  of  anj'  sphere  obtained  by  the  elimination  of  t 
from  the  equations  of  motion  of  that  sphere,  then  ^f*  must  be  of  the 
form  ^  (01,  0-2,  &c.).  'VTith  the  assumption,  tlien,  that  the  number  of 
spheres  of  the  given  set  with  variables  bet^veea  the  above-mentioned 
limits  is 

we  find  for   the  form  of  \p,  by  reasoning  like  the  foregoing, 

Ae~  ^^■*'~2~/,  where  %  is  the  potential  energy  of  the  sphere  in 
tlie  position  x,  y,  z,  and  c^=w^-t-v^-J-w^,  and  A  is  a  constant,  the 
same  for  all  the  sets. 

If  we  integrate  the  expression  Ae~  ^  -  ^dx  dy  dz  du  dv  dw 
for  all  values  of  x,  y,  z  within  the  given  region,  we  find  for  the 
r.umber  of  spheres  of  any  set  with  component  velocities  between 
XL  and  tt+dw,  v  and  v-^dv,  w  and  w-^dw, 

Be'    2  du  dv  dw, 
r; hence  we  easily  see  that  the  chances  of  velc:ities  in  aU  directions 
are  the  same,  and  that  the  mean  velocity  and  mean  square  velocity 

of  any  sphere  of  this  set  are  — - —  and  — ^  respectively,  andthemean 

kinetic  energy  of  any  such  sphere  is  ^,  and  therefore  the  same  for 

i\l  the  se 
Furthermore,  if  we  integrate  the  expressio^i 

Ae~^  (X+  ~2'^dx  dy  dz  du  dv  dw  \ 
lor  all  values  of  «,  v,  and  w  from  -00  to  +  «  respectively,  we 
obtain  a  result  of  the  fonn  Ce  '  ^^  dx  dy  dz,  and  therefore  the  number 
of  spheres  of  the  set  in  question  with  centres  within  the  elementary 
volume  dx  dy  dz,  or,  what  is  the  same  thing  with  the  exception  of  a 
constant  factor,  the  chance  of  the  centre  of  any  sphere  of  that  set 
being  within  that  elementary  volume,  is  Ce~^^  dx  dy  dz,  so  that  the 
density  of  the  JVset  of  matter  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  point  x,  y, 
z  is  mCe'^K 

We  are  now  in  a  position  to  compare  the  physical  properties  of  a 
medium  composed  of  monatomic  molecules  in  motion,  and  free 
from  any  intermolecular  or  interatomic  forces  with  those  of  ordiaarv 
gasos,  so  long  at  least  as  the  atoms  are  spherical. 

Consider  two  contiguous  portions  of  such  a  medium  separated  by 
any  plane  parallel  to  that  of  yz,  and,  since  the  distribution  and 
motion  of  each  set  of  spheres  is  independent  of  all  the  other  sets, 
let  ua  confine  our  attention  to  the  spheres  of  the  N  set.  Suppose 
that  there  are  N  such  spheres  per  unit  volume  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  the  point  x,  y,  z,  whose  component  velocities  parallel  to 
the  axis  of  x  are  between  u  and  u  +  du.  The  number  of  these 
spheres  which  cross  the  elementary  area  dy  dz  in  time  dt  will  be 
the  same  as  the  number  of  the  dH  spheres  whose  centres  are 
situated  within  the  elementaiy  parallelepiped  dx  dy  dz,  in  which 
dz  is  equal  to  udt,  and  this  number  is 
Xu  dy  dz  dt. 

Each  of  these  spheres  carries  across  with  it  a  momentum  parallel 
to  X  equal  to  mu ;  the  total  momentum  parallel  to  x  transferred 
across  dy  dz  in  time  dt  is  therefore 

m2\^u^  dy  dz  dt. 
If  1*  be  positive,  this  is  positive  momentum  transferred  from  the 
negative  to  the  positive  side  of  the  plane  y  z  ;  and  if  u  be  negative, 
this  is  negative  momentum  similarly  transferred  from  the  positive 
to  the  negative  side  of  that  plane.  In  either  case  it  follows  that 
by  the  mere  motion  of  these  spheres  across  the  area  dy  dz  the 
positive  momentum  parallel  to  tne  axis  of  a;  is  diminished  by  the 
quantity  inA'u*  dy  de  dt  on  the  negative  side  of  the  plane  y  z, 
and  increased^  by  the  same  quantity  on  the  positive  side  of  that 
plane  in  the  time  dt ;  m  being,  as  before,  the  mass  of  each  sphere. 
Hence,  on  the  whole,  there  is  a  transference  of  positive  x  momentum 
in  the  time  dt  across  the  area  dydzeaualio  mdy  dz  dt  S  u-N ;  that 
is,  equal  to  "" 

dy  dz  dt  pu^, 

where  p  is  the  density  of  the  N  matter  at  the  point  .r,  y,  z,  and  IJ^ 
is  the  mean  square  of  the  x  velocities. 

Bat  either  by  int'^gration  or  general  reasoning  it  is  easily  seen 


that  u^=z — ,  where  v*  is  the  mean  sqnaro  of  the  resultant  velo- 
cities of  the  i\^  spheres,  and  is  equal,  aJs  we  have  proved,  to 


Therefore,  there  is  a  transference  of  positive  momon^im  fi-om  the 
negative  to  the  positive  side  of  the  plane  y  z  across  the  area  dydz  ia 
time  dt  equal  to 

p  dy  dz  dt 
mh 
Each  separate  sphere  whose  component  velocities  are  u,  v,  and  m 
carries  across  the  same  area  y  and  2  momenta  equal  to  mv  and  mw 
respectively,  so  that  in  the  time  dt  there  are  carried  across  the  area 
dy  dz  y  and  z  momenta  equal  to  Zmuv  dy  dz  dt  and  'Zmuw  dy  dz  dt, 
respectively.  By  symmetry  it  is  clear  that  T-muv  and  "Zmuw  are 
separately  zero.  Therefore,  the  resultant  mutual  actions  of  the  two 
portions  of  the  medium  under  consideration  in  the  time  dt  is  the 
transference  across  the  elementary  area  dy  dz  of  a  quantity  of  x 

momentum  equal  to  pdy  dz  dt -^  fr'om  the  negative  to  the  positive 

side  of  the  bounding  plane.  If  this  mutual  action,  or,  as  it  is  gener- 
ally called,  "pressure"  when  referred  to  unit  of-sudace,  be  danoted 
by  the  ^mbol  j?,  we  get  the  equation 

p  dy  dz  dt  =  p  dy  dz  dt  — , 

Since  the  momenta  parallel  to  y  and  s  remain  unaltered,  it 
follows  that  the  mutual  action  or  pressure  between  contiguous  por-; 
tions  of  the  medium  in  the  neighbourhood  of  any  point  is  normiil 
to  the  hounding  surface  at  that  point.     Since  also  the  expression 

for  p  or  -^  is  independent  of  the  direction  of  the  x  axis,  it  fol' 

lows  that  the  pressure  at  any  point  of  the  medium  is  the  same  in 
all  directions. 

If  the  contiguous  portions  of  the  medium  be  separated  by  a 
material  instead  of  an  ideal  plane,  it  wiU  be  necessary  for  the  main- 
tenance of  equilibrium  that  there  should  be  an  action  between  this 
plane  and  the  adjacent  medium,  equivaldct  to  the  transference  of 
momentum  estimated  above  ;  but  action  measured  by  the  rate  per 
unit  of  time  at  which  momentum  is  generated  constitutes  moving 
force  or  statical  pressure.  Hence  the  force  or  pressure  between  the 
plane  and  medium  is  normal  to  the  piano,  independent  of  the 
direction  of  the  plane  through  the  point,  and  equal  to  the  value  of 

-2j-  at  the  point. 

■When  several  sets  of  spheres  are  present  together  In  the  region 
under  consideration,  the  distribution  of  the  centres  and  of  the 
velocities  of  each  set  is,  as  we  have  seen,  independent  of  the  co- 
existence of  the  other  sets.  If  therefore  p,,  p»,  &c. ,  be  the  densities 
of  the  matter  of  the  different  sets  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  point 
X,  y,  2,  and  if  ft,  p,,  &c.,  be  the  pressures  at  that  point  defined  as 
above,  and  if  m-,,  7n„,  &c,  be  the  masses  of  the  spheres  of  each  of 
the  sets,  and  p  the  total  pressure,  we  get 

P=Pi  +  Pi  +  ^<!- 

Hence  we  arrive  at  the  following  conclusions : — (1)  there  is  one 
physical  quantity  having  the  same  value  for  every  set  of  spheres — 

namely,  the  mean  kinetic  energy  of  each  sphere,  or  -^ ;  let  this 
quantity  be  called  t  ;  (2)  the  distribution  of  the  positions  and 
'velocities  of  the  spheres  of  each  set  is  independent  of  the  coexist- 
ence of  the  remaining  sets,  and  is  in  all  respects  the  same  as  if  that 
particular  set  existed  alone  in  the  region  considered ;  (3)  the 
pressure  at  any  point  referred  to  unit  of  surface  at  any  point  of 
the  medium  arising  from  the  action  of  any  one  of  the  sets  is  ^^  p", 
where  p  is  the  density  of  that  particular  set  at  the  point  in  question, 
and  T  is  the  physical  quantity  above  referred  to  as  common  to  all 
the  sets.  .       _ 

This  third  inference  may  be  expanded  into  the  following  three 
laws :— (a)  if  t  be  kept  constant,  then  the  pressure  arising  from 
each  set  varies  as  the  density  of  that  set ;  (^)  if  p  bokept  constant, 
then  the  pressure  from  each  set  varies  as  r ;  (7)  if-  the  pressures 

for  all  the  sets  be  the  same,  then  —  is  also  the  same,  or  the  num- 
ber of  spheres  per  nnit  volume  is  the  same. 

Now  suppose  there  is  a  mixture  of  any  number  of  gases  in  any 
region  ;  when  there  is  equilibrium  there  is  one  phvsical  quantity, 
namely,  temperature,  which  is  the  same  for  all;  the  intrinsic 


614 


MOLECULE 


energy  of  this  mixture  depends,  as  we  know,  upcm  its  temperature, 
and  the  energy  of  these  moving  spheres  is  entirely  kinetic,  and  may 
ho  ci  nceived,  therefore,  to  he  a  function  of  the  mean  vis  viva.  Let 
us  tV.jn  assume  that  in  this  medium  of  moving  spheres  we  have  a 
representation  of  a  mass  of  gases,  and  that  what  is  called  the 
t3mf  3rature  of  the  gaseous  mass  is  nothing  else  than  the  t  or  mean 
Idnetic  energy  of  each  moving  sphere.  Then,  with  this  assumption, 
the  three  parts  (a,  /3,  7)  of  inference  (3)  above  correspond  to  the 
gaseous  laws  connected  vrith  the  names  of  Boyle,  Charles,  and 
Avogadro  I'espectively,  and  inference  (2)  corresponds  with  the  law 
of  Dalton  concerning  gaseous  mixtures. 

"We  may  also  deduce  the  ordinary  hydrostatical  equations  of 
equilibrium  from  the  formuke  which  we  have  obtained. 

For,  since  these  equauons  give  U3 


we  get 


and  similarly 


u  =  -^,  and  pzzruBe 

mh  '^ 


■hX 


pr/J^pZ, 


where  X,  JT,  and  ^  are  the  component  impressed  forces,  or  the 
negatives  of  the  space  variations  of  x  along  the  coordinate  axes. 

So  far,  therefore,  the  physical  properties  of  aperfect  gas  or  mixture 
of  such  gases  correspond,  in  all  respects,  with  tne  physical  properties 
of  a  medium  consisting  of  a  set  of  elastic  spheres,  or  of  a  mixture 
of  sets  of  such  spheres,  with  the  sole  assumption  that  the  physical 
property  termed  Temperature,  in  the  case  of  the  gas,  corresponds  to, 
or  is  represented  by,  the  mean  kinetic  energy  of  each  of  the  spheres, 
and  that  each  sphere  represents  the  chemical  atom. 

There  are,  however,  physical  properties  of  gases  which  this  theory 
fails  to  explain.  The  most  important  of  these  is  the  ratio  of  the 
specific  heats  at  constant  volume  and  constant  temperatui'e  respect- 
ively. The  specific  heat  of  gas  expanding  while  bemg  heated  under 
a  constant  pressure  is  greater  than  that  of  gas  heated  with  a  con- 
stant volume,  as  when  it  is  contained  in  a  rigid  vessel,  for  the 
obvious  physical  reason  that  in  the  former  case  a  portion  of  the 
heat  is  converted  into  mechanical  work,  namely,  that  performed  by 
the  expansion  under  the  constant  pressure.  This  ratio  of  the  specific 
heat  of  gas  under  constant  pressure  to  the  specific  heat  with  con- 
stant volume  has  been  determined  for  many  gases  with  great  ac- 
curacy, chiefly  from  observations  of  the  velocity  of  sound  in  such 
gases,  in  which  velocity  the  value  of  this  ratio  bears  a  very  im- 
portant part. 

Now,  ou  the  assumption  of  the  gas  being  constituted  of  a  number 
of  elastic  spheres  in  rapid  but  irregular  motion  among  each  other, 
and  the  physical  property  of  temperature  being  represented  or 
measured  by  the  mean  vis  viva  of  each  sphere,  the  ratio  of  these 
specific  heats  must  be  exactly  1^. 

For,  if  V  be  the  volume  occupied  by  a  unit  of  mass  of  this  moving 
sphere  medium,  and  r  the  number  of  spheres  to  the  unit  mass,  and 
it  /)  be  the  density,  it  follows  that 

rm  =  pv  =  l. 

Also  we  know  that^,  the  pressure  referred  to  \xait  surface,  is  given 
by  the  equation 

2 

■where  r  is  the  mean  vis  viva.  If  now  r  increase  from  t  to  r  +  5r, 
while  V  remains  constant,  the  increase  of  intrinsic  energy  mu.st  be, 
fiom  definition,  tSt.  Also  if  there  be  a  similar  change  in  t  without 
the  re:-;triction  of  v  being  constant,  but  supposing  p  to  bo  constant, 
there  is  external  mechanical  work  performed  equal  to  p5v,  where 
ho  is  the  increase  of  volume.     Also 

^  3         ' 

and  therefore  the  whole  energy  required  to  bo  supplied  from  without 
must  be  in  this  caae 


Or  thfi  ratio  of  the  energies  to  be  supplied  from  without,  in  order 
that  the  mean  vis  viva  of  the  moving  sphere  medium  should  be 
increased  by  the  same  amount  in  the  two  cases  respectively,  becomes 
2 

— L,  or  n. 

If  therefore  the  gaseous  mass  bo  adequately  represented  by  the 
moving'sphere  medium,  the  ratio  of  the  specific  boats  must  be  1|. 

MfTcury  vapour  is  the  only  gas  for  which  the  ratio  has  so  largo 
a  value  as  this.  Several  of  the  more  permanent  gases  have  the 
rati  J  rqual  to  1'408,  while  in  others  it  falls  as  low  as  1-26.  The 
vaiuc  for  mercury  vapour,  as  determined  by  Kundt  and  Warburg 


{Poggcndorff,  clviL  353),  is  between  1  '695  and  1  "631,  the  mean  of  .11 
the  observations  being  somewhat  under  1'6.  If  any  value  al  .vo 
1'6  be  insisted  on  it  will  be  impossible  to  retain  the  theon-  -.s. 
above  enunciated.  In  point  qf  fact  we  may  say,  in  anticipa  '  :■. 
of  what  has  yet  to  come,  that  there  is  no  modification  of  the  kir  _: 
theory  as  hitherto  treated  which  could  give  a  higher  value  for  '.  .;■ 
ratio  in  question  than  1^. 

It  follows  from  what  has  been  proved  that  either  all  known  g/:  i 
and  vapours,  except  the  vapour  of  mercury,  and  perhaps  cadmi  -.i, 
must  be  polyatomic,  or  else  that  the  attempts  to-  explain  the  coi  t;- 
tution  of  gases  by  the  kinetic  theory  must  be  aoandoned.  V'j 
must  therefore  proceed  further  to  investigate  the  physical  7  :n. 
perties  of  a  medium  consisting  of  compound  atoms  or  molecules 
built  up  of  atoms  in  any  definite  arrangement,  such  molecules  b(  jg 
in  a  condition  of  irregular  motion  among  themselves,  such  a£  ■.■,  e 
have  supposed  in  the  cases  of  the  spherical  atoms  hitherto  c -n- 
sidered. 

It  will  be  observed,  on  reference  to  the  cases  of  the  spheres  hithr  1  to 
investigated,  that,  whether  there  be  forces  to  fixed  centres  in  act  uu 
on  the  medium  or  not,  the  chance  of  any  sphere  having  the  cooili- 
natesofits  centre  and  its  component  velocities  between  xanda:-h.>, 
y  and  y  +  dy,  z  and  z  -f-  rfs,  u  and  u  +  du^  v  and  v  +  dv,  w  and  w  +  d  ic, 
is  proportional  to  e  ~  ^dxdydz  du  dv  rfw, where  E  is  the  total  enerfy, 
kinetic,  and  potential,  of  the  sphere  in  the  state  of  position  aji 
motion  defined  by  a;,  y,  z,  w,  i',  w. 

We  may  generalize  this  proposition,  and  prove  that  when  tae 
sphere  is  replaced  by  a  molecule  of  any  shape  and  constitution,  00 
as  to  be  defined  as  to  position  and  motion  by  r  genemjized  coonli- 
nates^i.-.g^with  their  corresponding  momenta  j^i...^^  the  chances  of 
the  molecule  having  its  defining  variables  between  the  limits  q-^  a':'l 
9i-^^Qi--Pr  and  jp^-f  rf/),,  or,  what  is  the  same  thing,  the  number  ui 
such  molecules  at  any  time  with  variables  thus  umited,  whether 
there  be  forces  to  fixed  centres  or  not,  and  whether  interatomic 
forces  or  intennolecular  forces  are  or  are  not  in  action  on  the  mole- 
cular aggregate,  is  proportional  to 

e'^^rdqy,,dp^ 

where  A  is  a  constant,  the  same  for  all  molecules,  and  E^  is  flie 
total  energy,  kinetic  and  potential,  of  the  molecule  in  the  free  eta's 
as  to  position  and  motion,  the  potential  energy  being  that  of  the 
fixed  centre  forces  on  the  molecule,  together  with  that  of  its  inter- 
atomic forces,  in  the  given  position. 

The  problem  before  us  may  be  stated  thus  : — 

A  number  of  similar  molecules  possessing  in  the  whole  n  degrees 
of  freedom,  where  n  is  very  large,  are  in  motion  in  a  region  of  spec  j 
bounded  by  a  material  envelope,  under  the  action  either  of  fora  s 
to  fixed  centres  (called  external  forces)  or  of  forces  between  different 
molecules  and  different  parts  of  the  same  molecule,  as  well  as  bv 
forces  between  the  fixed  boundary  and  the  contained  molecules,  all 
of  them  conservative,  so  that  the  total  energy,  kinetic  and  potential, 
of  the  aggregate  remains  always  the  same ;  it  is  required  to  find  th« 
chance  of  a  group  of  any  one  or  more  molecules  possessing  in  the 
whole  r  degrees  of  freedom,  defined  by  the  coordinates  ffj...^,,  and 
momenta  Pi-.-Prt  where  r  is  small  compared  with  n,  having  it» 
variables  between  the  limits  g^  and  gi+dq^...p^  andp^  +  dp^ 

We  might  start  with  the  assumption  made  above  in  the  caso  ot 
the  spheres  imder  central  forces,  that  this  chance  must  be  of  th« 
form 

yp  (ipi,  ip^  &c.)rfyi...rfp^ 

where  ^  =  Oi,  4>i  =  a^  &c.,  are  obtained  by  the  elimination  of 
t  between  the  equations  of  motion  of  the  r  group  under  the  fixed 
centre  and  boundary  forces  and  those  between  its  component  atoms, 
because  there  is  nothing  in  the  conception  of  a  molecule  beyond 
that  of  a  system  with  a  number  of  degrees  of  freedom,  and  under 
internal  forces  ;  and  in  this  case,  considering  the  generality  of  th« 
assumption  as  to  the  external  forces,  it  would  be  impossible  to  con- 
ceive the  existence  of  any  general  equation,  independent  of  the  time, 
between  the  variables,  except  that  of  the  conservation  of  energy,  m 
that  the  chance  in  question  becomes 

4,{E,)dq^...dp^ 

where  E^  is  above  defined,  and  it  remains  to  determine  the  form  of  f. 
If  we  considered  a  second  group  of  one  or  more  molecules  con- 
taining 5  degrees  of  freedom  (where  s  may  or  may  not  bo  eoual  to 
r,  but,  like  r,  is  much  smaller  than  n),  and  defined  by  the  coordinates 
and  momenta  ?H-i---?r+^  ;'^-fl■■■Pr^-^.  then  the  two  groups  togethec 
contain  r  +  s  degrees  of  freedom  aohnod  by  the  variables  gy..p^^ 
and  since  r  +  s  is  small  comjiared  with  n,  tlje  chance  of  this  group 
having  its  variables  between  g^  and  gi  +  dqi...p^,&udp^,  +  <ip^t 
must  bo 

^{E^,)dg,...dp^ 

But  this  chance  must  be  equal  to  the  chanco  of  the  r  group  beio^ 
fixed  in  the  state  q^,  gi  +  dg^.-p^  P^  +  ^^Prf  multiplied  by  the  chanoe 
of  the  remaining  s  group  being  in  the  state  3h-i>  Jr+i  +  c'jH-i— 
Prf«»  pT+t  +  ^Pr+v  where  tne  r  group  are  so  fixed. 


MOLECULE 


615 


Now  to  find  tliis  latter  cliaace  we  obserye  that  it  ia  the  chance  of 
the  s  group  being  in  their  required  limits  of  position  and  motion, 
when  the  internal  forces  between  the  r  and  »  group  become  forces 
between  the  »  group  and  fixed  centres. 

If  the  total  kinetic  energy  of  the  r  group  in  their  given  state  be 
T„  and  that  of  the  r+s  group  be  T^-w  '•>»  **'*1  kinetic  energy  of 
the  s  group  must  b«  T^,  -  T,. 

:  Also  if  the  total  potential  energy  of  the  r+s  group  under  the 
influence  of  all  forces  be  xh-d  t^"*  ^  made  up  of— 

(1)  Xn  tl'S  potential  energy  of  the  r  group  to  fixed  centres,  and  of 

its  internal  forces ; 

(2)  X*  similarly  taken  for  the  s  group ;  and 

(3)  ,x>  the  potential  energy  of  the  r  and  s  group  forces. 

'And  when  the  r  group  is  fixed  the  potential  energy  of  the  «  group 
is  reduced  to  (2)  and  (3),  or  is  XrH~Xr- 

\  Therefore  the  chance  of  the  »  group  having  its  variables  within 
the  required  limits  when  the  r  group  is  fixed  must  bo 

Therefore 

or  <!>  £,)  rP  (E^.  -E,)  =  ^  {E^. 

rhercfore  ^  (a;) = « '"'  =  c'^  suppose. 

And  the  chances  of  the  r  group  having  its  variables  between  the 
limits  y,  and  Ji  +  dJi.-J'r  and  p^  +  dp,  must,  in  the  state  of  per- 
manent or  stable  motion,  bo  proportional  to 

e-''^rdq^,,,dp„ 
whieh  was  to  be  proved. 

Supposing  now  that  the  aggregate  of  molecules  under  considera- 
tion consists  of  a  number  of  sets  of  similar  molecules,  the  number 
of  molecules  in  one  of  these  sets  being  N,  where  N  is  very  large, 
and  suppose  that  each  of  these  If  molecules  possesses  a  degrees  of 
freedom  defined  by  the  coordinates  q^.-.q^  with  the  momenta 
Pi...Pff  and  that  its  mass  is  m.  Three  of  these  coordinates  may 
be  taken  as  the  rectangular  coordinates  of  its  centre  of  mass,  in 
vhich  case  the  corresponding  momenta  will  be  mu,  mv,  mw,  where 
fi,  V,  and  w  are  the  componept  velocities  of  translation  of  that  centre 
cf  mass.  Then  in  this  case,  if  qi---qa,Pt-P<!  ^  ^^  remaining 
coordinates  and  momenta  of  the  molecule,  the  chance  of  the  mole- 
cule's variables  being  within  the  limits  x  and  x  +  dx...Pf  and 
J.-  +  4P{r  ^"^  ^  proportional  to 

-»(X+/)   ,     ,     ,     ,         .       -l^(a»+r«-Hi«) 
c  dz  dy  dz  dq,. . .api  e      s  du  dv  dvi...{l), 

-where  T,  the  kinetic  energy  of  the  molecule,  is  equal  to 

'vhere  /  is  a  quadratic  function  of  the  p's,  having  as  coefficients 
Ifnown  functions  of  the  q's. 

If  we  integrate  the  expression  (I)  for  all  possible  values  of  x,  y,  s, 
'^*---9ff  Pi--'Fff  ^®  obtain  an  expression  of  the -form 

Be      s      dudvda (II), 

■where  B  ia  independent  of  u,  v,  and  to,  and  ^=u*+i^+v^.  From 
the  form  of  (II)  it  follows,  exactly  as  in  the  cases  of  the  elastic  spheres, 
that  the  chances  of  all  directions  of  the  velocity  of  translation  of  a 
molecule  are  equal,  that  the  mean  velocity  and  mean  square  velocity 
of  translation  of  each  molecule  are 

VwA  ^ 

Tespectively,  and  that  the  mean  kinetic  energy  of  translation  is  — , 

And  the  same  for  a  molecule  of  any  set. 

Again,  if  T  be  the  mean  total  kinetic  energy  of  the  molecule,  then 


T= 


III- 


-l>(X-tT)  dx...d 


.(III); 


)&d  if  we  evaluate  this  expression,  paying  attention  to  the  form  of 
7  as  a  quadratic  function  of  the  ;'s  mentioned  above,  we  shall  find 

for  (III)  the  expression  ^. 

It  follows  from  this  result  that  each  additional  degree  of  freedom 
of  the  molecule  increases  the  mean  total  kinetic  energy  of  the  mole- 
cule by  the  quantity  — ,  which  is  the  mean  kinetic  energy  of  trans- 
lation parallel  to  any  one  of  the  axes,  and  that  the  total  kinetic 
anergy  is  proportional  to  the  number  of  such  degrees  of  freedom. 
/  If,  again,  we  integrate  the  expression  (I)  for  all  values  of  the 
monsenta,  we  obtain  an  expression  of  the  form 

Ce-^T-  dx  dy  dz  dqt...dq^ (IT), 

Inhere  x  is  the  potential  energy  of  the  molecule  due  to  fixed  centre 


and  to  interatomic  forces  in  the  position  defined  \>y  x,  y,z,  q^-.q^. 
The  dimensions  of  the  molecule  are  so  small  that  we  may  regard 
forces  from  each  fixed  centre  on  different  parts  of  the  molecule  as 
parallel  and  equal  and  functions  of  the  distance  of  the  centre  o^ 
mass  from  that  fi^ed  centre,  so  that,  if  the  part  of  x  arising  from 
these  fixed  centre  forces  be  called  Xi,  Xi  will  be  a  function  of  x,  y,  2, 
and  of  these  variables  only,  the  remaining  part  of  x  (arising  from 
interatomic  forces),  which  may  be  called  Xb  wiU  be  a  function  of 
the  <r  -  3  variables  q^. .  .q^^ 

If  in  (IT)  we  write  Xi  +  Xj  fof  Xi  ^^d  then  integrate  for  all  values 
of  qt...qg  we  obtain  an  expression  of  the  fbrm 

Dc-'^^  dx  dy  dz (T), 

where  P  is  independent  of  x,  y,  z,  and  therefore  p  the  density  of 
the  if  molecule  matter  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  point  x,  j/,  z,  is 

mDe-''Xi. 
From  these  results  all  the  propositions  proved  above  with  reference 
to  the  aggregate  of  elastic  spheres  or  monatomic  molecules,  as  to  the 
correspondence  of  the  physical  properties  of  such  an  aggregate  with 
those  of  gases  as  indicated  by  the  gaseous  laws,  may  be  deduced 
also  for  this  aggregate  of  polyatomic  molecules.  So  that  if  2"  bo 
equal  to  -j,  or  the  mean  kinetic  energy  of  agitation  of  any  one  of 

the  aggregate  of  moving  molecules,  if  r  be  the  volume  occupied  by 
unit  of  mass,  r  the  number  of  molecules  in  unit  of  volume,  and  ) 


the  mass  of  each  molecule,  we  have,  exactly  i 
1,  pv= 


t  the  case  referred 


and 


pv= 


rT. 


We  also  get  the  ordinary  hydroatatical  equations 

±=fX,     ^=pT,    ^=pZ 
dx    '^   '     dy    '    '     dz    '^ 

from  this  expression  for  j)  combined  with  the  equatioa 

p=mDe-''Xi, 

remembering  that 

^=-mX,     ^'=-7:ir.     ^=-m^,. 

dx  ay  dz 

Tivhence  tlie  coincidence  of  the  physical  properties  of  this  a^^regate  of 
polyatomic  moving  molecules  with  those  of  a  gas,  on  the  assump- 
tion that  the  temperature  represents  the  mean  kinetic  energy  of 
agitation,  is  at  once  apparent. 

It  can  be  shown  also  that  the  aggregate  of  moving  molecules, 
such  as  we  conceive  a  gas  to  he,  possesses  another  very  important 
physical  property  which,  by  its  analogy  to  the  second  law  of  thermo- 
dynamics, affords  additional  evidence  of  the  relation  between  the 
phenomena  of  heat  and  those  of  aggregates  in  some  kind  of  motion, — 
the  property  in  question  beiog  that,  if  in  any  aggregate  of  moving 
molecu^  the  mean  kinetic  energy  of  any  one  of  thfm  be  called 
r,  and  if  5Q  be  an  increment  of  energy  imparted  to  the  aggregate 

from  without,  then  -^  is  a  perfect  differential. 

If  to  this  aggregate  we  apply  a  certain  small  quantify  SQ  of  heat 
or  energy  from  without,  and  if  <Jr  be  the  increase  of  the  mean 
kinetic  energy  of  agitation  when  the  volume  is  unaltered,  then 
this  constancy  of  volume  prevents  any  of  the  energy  SQ  from  being 
absorbed  in  doing  external  work ;  but  it  is  conceivable  that  the 
increase  of  t  may  cause  such  a  change  in  the  average  state  of  the 
molecule  as  to  produce  a  variation  5x  in  the  mean  potential  energy 
of  the  molecule,  dx  being  proportional  to  5r. 

Therefore 


therefore 


2A     3       2A      3    ' 


If  the  volume  vary  by  Sv^  the  pressure  being  constant,  then  we  must 
add  external  work,  or  p5v,  to  the  energy  absorbed ,  so  that  if  the  whole 
external  energy  now  applied  be  S'Q,  and  the  increase  of  tempera- 
ture St  be  the  same  in  Doth  cases,  we  have 

r(^  +  ^)ST+pSv 
yO_     V  3     drj 

But  if  ^  be  constant,  then  as  before 

pjj,=2  ^  Jt, 


616 


and  therefore  tno  ratio  of  i'Q  to  5Q.  or  of  the  two  specific  heats 
constant  pressure  ana  cunstam  volume,  respectively,  becomes 

0   (   3  ^  f  2 


MOLECULE 


r  +  3 


dx 


- '  ^  is  UBknown  in  aU  respects  erccpt  that  it  must  be  positive  ;  also 
vo  know  that  <r  must  be  integral  and  not  less  than  3  ; .  if  we  denote 
■*  -^  by  c  we  have  for  the  ratio 

<r  +  2  +  « 


<r  +  e 
1  + 


'  +  e' 

which,  with  the  necessary  limitations  of  o-  and  «,  cannot  be  greater 
than  1 5  or  1  -6,  and  in  this  limiting  case  the  gas  must  be  mon- 
atomio. 

If,  therefore,  any  value  above  1  -6  of  the  ratio  for  mercui-y  vapour 
be  msisted  upon,  the  theory  must  be  abandoned  so  far  as  present 
investigations  are  concerned.  Il',  however,  the  difference  between 
1-6  and  any  higher  value  given  by  the  observations  be  regarded  as 
mtbm  reasonable  limits  of  experimental  error,  this  value  for  mercury 
vapour,  a  gas  which  on  chemical  grounds  is  regarded  as  monatonuc 
may  be  viewed  as  confirming  the  theory,  at  least  ;5to  lanto. 

If  two  sphencal  atoms  were  united  by  a  rigid  rod  to  form  a  mole- 
cule, such  a  molecule  would  have  five  degrees  of  freedom  and  the 
specific  heat  ratio  would  in  this  case  be  IJ,  for  e  would  then  "be 
""T'  ■,  ,^  .,^  ^''^  ^  plausible  approximation  to  the  observed 
value  1-408  of  the  ratio  in  a  great  number  of  two-atom  gases,  such 
as  hydrogen,  nitrogen,  o.xygen,  and  others,  but  all  observations 
agi-ee  so  completely  m  the  ratio  1-408,  or  from  1-405  to  1-408  that 
It  hardly  seems  reasonable  to  regard  the  difference  -008  as  within 
tlie  limits  of  experimental  error,  unless,  indeed,  wo  had  grounds 
tor  suspecting  a  tendency  to  excess  in  all  the  methods  employed  for 
the  determinatioa  of  the  ratio.  But  there  are  other  difficulties 
more  formidable  still,  arisiug  from  the  spectroscopic  properties  of 
heated  gases.  The  light  emitted  by  such  gases,  so  long  as  thev  are 
of  no  great  density,  never  presents  a  continuous  spectrum  but  a 
y.ectrum  consisting  of  bright  lines  mth  intervening  dark  spaces. 
thus  the  spectrum  of  hydrogen  gives  thirty-two  bright  lines  that 
ot  mercury  vapour  sLx  Unes,  that  of  nitrogen  eighteen,  and  so  on 
bo  long  as  light  IS  regarded  as  an  energy  intercommunicable  with 
heat,  and  light  of  dehnite  refrangibiUty  is  referred  to  vibrations  of 
given  penod,  -we  must  regard  these  discontinuous  spectra  as  con- 
nected  with,  asd  arismg  from,  vibrations  of  determinate  periods  in 
the  molecule  of  the  heated  gas.  And  if  a  gas  such  as  hydrogen  or 
nitrogen  be  constituted  as  we  are  supposing,  of  an  indefinite  repe- 
tition of  similar  molecules  it  must  follow  that  such  molecules  must 
be  capable,  at  any  rate  when  not  too  closely  packed  together  of  as 
many  independent  vibrations  as  there  are  bright  lines  in  the  spec- 
trum ;  that  IS  to  say,  m  addition  to  the  three  degrees  of  freedom 
arising  from  motion  of  tean^lation  in  solid  space,  each  molecule 
must  possess  as  many  additional  degrees  of  freedom  or  possible 

^^lij?  The  degrees  of  freedom  corresponding  to  motion  of 
Shraton?  ■"°"°.*  r"  ™°f-''»'te  anything  to  these  luminous 
.T,v1?r\  T"/-*".^,^''^  .'"''''?'"'  i"<=g"larity  and  independence  of 
f^Z  tZ  •  f  I  ""  otherwise  with  the  internal  or  relative  degrees  of 
J^n^V  "°  «™'''  '^'•'  ""^''^  *=  S^'  ^^  ^«T  d™se,  we  may 

^d  C  n.^r  V"*"'°,'  "»'«"?' °f  ^0  between  one  encounter 
?-„!        T  j^°y  molecule  with  another  for  very  many  vibra- 

ros^-i„r^f  hT'^.S  to  its  own  law,  to  take  place  hi  therektive 
positions  of  different  parts  of  the  molecule.  At  each  encounter  the 
ip".rlr'''"  ''^'°'^'*  be  roughly  shaken,  and  when  the  encounter 

h,  r^l  r'^f,"?  ""'  "'"■ftions  would  become  irregular  and 
d?fin?te  r^.3^"V-l'^°8™<"^'"  '"^  *  g^"*"-^'  diffused  lifht  of  no 
A-ul  tM,^  ^  .I'^^V-'?*  ^  ""='''  degenerates  into  mdinary  noise. 
A.id  this  is  exactly  what  occurs  in  the  spectra  of  dense  gases. 

To  bring  the  theory,  therefore,   into  agreement  with  observed 
T....nomena,  we  renuire  veiy  many  more  degrees  of  freedom  in  each 

u'.ecule  than  could  possibly  bo  assigned  to  it  in  accordance  wit 
t.:<-  observed  value  of  the  ratios  of  the  specific  heats, -mercury 
V .,  our,  for  example,  admitting  with  difficulty  the  minimum  number 
ol  three  such  degrees,  as  we  have  just  now  seen,  while  its  spectrum 
ju.  Id  require  at  least  nine.  And  thodifficulty  increases  as  we  pass 
to  iiydrogon  and  other  gases.  ' 

.t,^  j-?'°'!LP",'"'P\'"'"'^°'^'''  '^"'  '"^  ^"^  of  possibly  explaining 
th:  difficulty  that  there  were  in  all  gases  a  number  of  cTmposTtf 
iTf  Mules  fnth  many  degrees  of  freedom  mixed  up  with  the  other 
nr  icules  with  three  or  five  such  degrees,  but  in  so  email  a  propor- 
t.o  to  these  molecules  that  thwr  presence  produces  no  appreciable 
tu  t  upon  the  specific  heats  ;  or,  since  wo  have  no  experimental  dc- 
termnation  of  the  specific  heats  of  gases  at  light-giving  temperature 


we  might  at  leasj  untJ  such  expei-imental  determination  has  beeii 
arrived  at,  conceive  that  our  atoms  may  change  their  constitution 
under  increased  temperature,  and  become  themselves   capable  of 
vibration.    There  is  nothing  in  the  conception  of  an  atom  ai  wo  are 
considering  it  which  is  really  inconsistent  with  such  an  hypothesis 
Certam  obscn-ed  phenomena  accompanying  dissociation  andccin- 
bination  give  nse  to  other  difficillties  in  the  way  of  the  acceptan-- 
of  the  kinetic  theory,  in  addition  to  those  arising  from  the  err  1 1 
distnbution  of  mean  kinetic  energy  just  now  discussed.     For  .1  - 
mtrogen  and  hydrogen,  for  example,  are  mLxed  in  proportion  tofo-ii 
ammonia  it  is  observed  (1)  that  at  ordinary  temperatures  thev'io 
not  exhibit  the  slightest  tendency  to  combine  directlv  with  ea-h 
other,  whUe  on  the  other  hand,  (2)  ammonia  at  ordinarytJmperatu-  es 
does  not  exhibit  the  slightest  tendency  to  decompose  into  nitrog-ii 
or  fiydrogen.     But  ammonia  when  subjected  to  certain  ven-  hi<rh 
fcmperatures   becomes  partially  decomposed-that  is,  becomes"  a 
mixture  of  so  many  parts  of  ammonia  and  of  so  many  other  parts 
ot  nitrogen  and  hydrogen  in  the  proportions  to  fbrm  ammonia  -  and 
U  the  temperature  be  high  enough  the  decomposition  may  be 'com- 
plete,    but,  in  accordance  with  the  kinetic  theoiy,  the  conditions, 
whatever  they  may  be,  which  at  high  temperature  cause  the  ammonia 
to  decompose,  must   sometimes  occur  to  individual  molecules  at 
ordinary  temperature,  because  temperature,  as  we  understand  it 
merely  indicates  a  certain  quantity  ot  kinetic  energy,  and  therefore 
in  a  gas,  however  cold,  there  will  be  always  some  molecules  in  a 
state  for  dissociation  ;  and  tbas  dissociation  having  taken  place  can 
by  (1)  nevei:  be  compensated  by  recombination  ;  tTierefore  dissocia- 
tion should  be  gomg  on  in  ammonia  at  all  temperatures,  and  thi3 
result  IS  contrary  to  the  observed  phenomena  (2).    It  might  possiVi  v 
be  conceived,  as  a  way  of  meeting  this  last-mentioned  difficulty,  thJV 
the  dissociation  attendant  upon  high  temperature-that  is,  upon  an 
aver.^«  large  molecular  velocity  of  translation-requires  that  thee 
should  be  a  fairly  rapid  repetition  ot  encounters  among  molecules 
moving  with  dissociation  velocity  to  ensure  the  production  of  dis- 
sociation, and  that  in  the  case  of  a  gas  at  low  temperature,  or  small 
average  velocity,  the  chance  of  two  molecules  encountering  one 
another  at^  high  velocities  is  smaU,  and  the  chance  of  any  molecu'e 
iS^pl^fi""      ?*?  "T'^  succession  of  such  encountei-s  is  piacticallv 
insensible,  and  therefore  that  the  dissociation  spoken  of  reallv  nevi 
takes  place.  j  "o-^i 

As  above  stated,  we  conceive  that  in  any  gas  at  ordinary  pressure 
and  temperature  the  mtermolecular  forces  are  very  small  in  the 
aggre^te— that  is,  in  Clausius's  language,  have  a  veiy  small  virial  — 
.t-y  wmch  is  understood,  not  that  tlie  forces  themselves  wh'»r« 
acting,  are  small,  but  that,  considering  the  whole  acgre'<^te  "c^ 
molecules  at  any  instant,  there  are  very  few  pairs  near  enosgh  lo 
each  other  to  exert  any  appreciable  force  on  each  other.  Or  if  we 
could  watch  any  mdividual  molecule  for  any  time,  we  should  find 
that  dunng  by  far  the  greater  portion  of  the  time  it  was  sensiblv 
Jiee  from  any  action  by  surrounding  molecules.  The  distanc,- 
traversed  by  the  type  molecule  between  the  instant  when  it  passes 
out  of  the  sphere  of  action  of  one  molecule  and  the  instant  when 
It  passes  into  the  sphere  of  action  of  the  next— that  is,  from  ope 
encounter  to  another— is  called  its /ra^rt^A. 

We  may  find  the  chance  that  a  molecule  starting  from  any  point 
with  velocity  <j  in  a  uniform  gas  shall  have  free  path  between  x 
and  X  +  dx  from  that  point. 

^f  "^  be  the  chance  for  such  a  molecule  of  free  path  al  least  unity, 
then  a?  is  the  chance  of  a  free  path  at  least  2.  Hence  the  chance 
ot  tree  path  at  least  x  must  be  of  the  form  a'. 

Following  the  method  employed  by  0.  E.  Jlever,'  let  us  write 
this  in  the  form 


where  therefore  i 

log  a  * 
then  the  chance  of  free  path  .i; -Kir  is 

e       I     . 
The  chance  that  such  a- molecule  shall  have  its  first  encounter 
between  s  and  a+dx  is  the  difference  of  these  two  expressions- 
tliat  is,  X  "^  ' 

I' 

This  is  the  chance  of  a  free  path  beti\-een  a:  and  x+dx. 
The  mean  free  path  for  such  a  molecule  must  then  b«  ■ 


i    t'  l^dx-^(   c''Ldx=l. 
Jo  '         J  a  I 


This  is  the  meanmg  of  the  const.int  line  I .  But  if  we  denote 
by  3  the'  nutaber  of  encounters  which  a  molecule  moving  through 
space  with  velocity  u  exi>criences  on  the  average  per  unit  of  time,  i 

*  KijuliKht  Thnrit  der  CoK,  Bnalau,  ISTT. 


MOLECULE 


617 


B=^;  or  . 


Hence  the  chance  for  such  a  molecule  of  free  path  between  x 
s.ndx+dxia 

—  e      ^  ax, 

with  the  above  definition  of  B. 

The  chance  of  a  molecule  whose  velocity  is  u  havin»  free  path 
X  is  of  course  the  same  as  the  chance  of  its  free  path  having  the 

duration  — .     If  *  =  — ,  the  chance  of  duration  behveen  t  and  t-^-dt 

is  thnb  B  ». 

—  »-'"  udt ;  or  Se'^  dt. 
a  - 

Meyer  detmninSs  the  value  of  JB,  if  the  molecules  be  spheres,  in 
the  form 


B  =  AVs=n   i  1  +  ■ 


(-)"■ 


fir  2re  - 1  ■  2^^  +  1 


(^V:)' 


..}, 


where  JJ  =  — t=  ,  and  s  is  the  sum  of  the  radii  of  two  molecules 

it  will  be  observed  that  the  series  converges  very  rapidly  if  oi-A 
'j  less  than  unity,  the  successive  coefficients  being 


210  '       1512 


11880' 


,8sc. 


Having  found  B  for  the  number  of  encounters  experienced  per  unit 
of  time  by  a  molecule  having  velocity  u,  we  have  for  the  average 
number  of  encounters  experienced  by  any  molecule  per  unit  of  time, 
which  we  denote  by  C, 

°=:j7^^1  «-*"'"'£.?=.. 

From  which  Meyer  deduces 

h 

Hence  the  mean  value  of  the  free  path  foi  all  mc^eouleSj  irrespec- 
tive of  velocity,  is  X=  — -  = = — •„  . 

Thns  the  Icinetic  theory  of  gases  presents  to  us  the  conception  ef 
apparently  perfect  rest,  as  the  result  of  motion  irregular  in  detail 
but  permanent  and  stable  on  the  average.  Whatever  difficulty 
luay  be  felt  at  first  sight  in  the  acceptance  of  this  theory  in  the 
casj  of  a  medium  at  rest  is  greatly  enhanced  ■when  we  pass  to  the 
Cdiitemplation  of  a  disturbed  medium  like  a  mass  of  gas  through 
which  a  wave  of  sound  is  passing.  In  our. ordinary  iuvestigations 
of  cuch  a  disturbance  the  gas  is  treated  as  a  continuous  body,  sub- 
jected to  small  relative  motions  of  its  parts,  accompanied  by  corre- 
sponding variations  of  internal  pressure.  "WTien  a  disturbance  or  a 
local  condensation  or  rarefactiou  is  set  up  in  any  portion  of  this  gas 
■ft-e  calculate  the  resulting  effects  by  the  well-known  equations  of 
sound  motion.  But  on  this  kinetic  theory  the  medium  is  supposed 
to  consist  of  a  number  of  discrete  masses — elastic  spheres  or  the 
like — which  preserve  the  physical  properties  of  the  medium  merely 
by  the  recurrence  of  their  mutual  collisions,  such  collisions  obeying 
no  law  in  individual  cases,  but  preserving  a  certain  average  uni- 
formity in  the  motion  of  the  whole  aggregate  ;  and  we  need  some- 
further  investigation  to  assure  ourselves  of  the  applicability  of  the 
ordinary  ti-eatment  of  wave  motion  to  such  a  medium. 

Kow  we  observe  that  the  physical  properties  of  -our  medium,  so 
far  as  the  relation  between  pressure,  density,  and  temperature  is 
concerned,  merely  require  that  the  temperature  be  measured  by  the 
n:ean  total  kinetic  energy  of  ti-anslation,  and  that  the  mean  kinetic 
energy  of  ti-anslation  parallel  to  any  fixed  line  be  equal  to  oue-third 
of  the  mean  total  energy  of  ti-anslation.  If  the  molecules  constitut- 
ing any  portion  of  this  medium  were  animated  by  a  common  velocity 
or  acceleration,  the  physical  properties  of  this  portion  would  be 
similarly  determined  by  the  velocities  and  kinetic  energies  relative 
to  the  common  motion.  "When  the  distribution  of  such  relative  velo- 
cities is  stable  or  permanent,  the  average  relative  kinetic  energy  in 
any  fixed  direction  is  one-third  of  the  average  relative  total  kuietic 
•"eBCTgy,  such  property  constituting  normal  distribution. 

Suppose  that  in  any  portion  of  a  medium,  consisting  of  equal 
elastic  spheres,  this  distribution  has  been  disturbed — that  is, 
Xvivr,  277iv^,  and  'Zmv^  are  unequal.'  If  Fwere  the  relative  velo- 
'ci^of  any  paii-  of  spheres  after  such  di^tuibance  and  before  they 
cofiide,  and  Q  the  angle  between  V  and  the  common  normal  at  the 
^int  of  impact,  then  the  normal  and  tangential  relatiyejtelocitifis^ 


before  impact  are  Fcos  0  and  Tsin  0,  anoLafter  impact  they  become 
-  Kco3  e  and  Ksin  $  respectively.  Tlic  relative  velocity  after  im- 
pact, resolvefi  in  the  direction  of  relative  velocity  before  impact,  ia 
therefore  ^  - 

-  Tcos-fl+rsin^fr, 
or  -  F'cos2^  •  and  the  chance  of  0  being  between  9  and  0 -^016  la 
fiin  10  do, 
•Hierefore  the  average  square  relative  velocity  resolved  in  the 
original  direction  becomes  after  impact 


Vi 


Ir' 


28  sm  20 1:9.  01  ~. 


The  relative  velocity  after  impact  ia  the  plane  of  V,  and  the 
normal  perpendicular  to  the  direction  of  V  before  impact  is 

r  siad  cos  e+r  sine  cos  ff,  or  r  sin  29. 
And,  if  a  fixed  line  be  taken  in  the  plane  perpendicular  to  V,  the 
average  value  of  the  square  of  the  relative  velocity  after  impact, 
resolved  pai-allel  to  this  line,  is 


V 


■a 


1/3 

sin'  29  cos'^  d9  d<j>,  or  -j-  as  before. 


Hence  we  conclude  Jliat,  in  whatever  manner  the  distribution  ia 
disturbed  in  any  portion  of  the  medium  at  any  instant,  it  will,  for 
all  those  pairs  of  spheres  which  within  any  given  interval  encounter 
each  other,  have  assumed  the  normal  distribution  after  that  inter»-al. 

If  T  denote  the  average  time  between  two  collisions  for  any  given 
sphere,  the  chance  that  this  sphere  shall  continue  for  any  time  t 

_  t_ 
free  from  collisions  is,  as  wo  have  seen,  e    t  . 

If,  therefore,  D  be  the  number  of  spheres  within  any  region  whose 
total  relative  velocity  is  between  w  and  w  +  <iw,  but  so  distributed 
that  the  mean  square  of  their  relative  velocities  along  any  fixed 
line  is  not  — -,  then  after  a  time  t  considerably  greater  than  r,  say 

ten  times  t,  the  number  of  the  D  spheres  which  have  escaped  col- 
lision will  be  utterly  inconsiderable,  and  the  distribution  will  have 
become  normal  througliout  the  region. 

Suppose,  for  instance,  that  a  sound  wave  is  passing  along  a  tube 
filled  with  air. 


(E 


D 


the  air  in  the  tube  is,  -at  any  instant,  in  a  state  of  alternate  com- 
pression and  rarefaction,  as  at  C,  E,  C,  R  above. 

If  the  note  sounded  bo  (say)  500  ribrations  per  second,  the  length 
of  the  wave  CR  is  about  VjV  feet,  and  the  time  taken  by  the  wave 
in  traversing  that  distance  is  about  j^jth  of  a  second. 

The  air  in  any  section  of  the  tube  near  P  has  alternately  a  small 
positive  momentum  and  an  equal  smaU  negative  momentum,  the 
reversal  taldng  place  in  everj-  rrjth  of  a  second ;  also  the  same  cause 
which  produces  the  average  momentum  in  either  case  disturbs  the 
distribution  of  energy  among  the  x,  y,  and  2  directions,  i.e.,  it  is 
always  producing  an  excess  or  defect  in  mu-  above  or  below  that  of 
rmfi  and  mM.-^.  By  what  has  been  proved  above,  this  abnormal 
distribution  of  energy  becomes  inappreciable,  owing  to  molecular 
collisions  in  a  time  considerably  less  than  nj'inith  of  a  second — in 
fact,  in  about  TsirsinniTith  of  a  second,  when  the  value  of  T  for 
atmospheric  air  is  considered.  It  is  therefore  legitimate,  in  calcu- 
lating the  velocity  of  sound  in  air  (at  least  on  the  elastic  sphere 
hypothesis),  to  regard  the  distribution  as  always  normal  in  any 
section  of  the  tube,  the  air  in  that  section  or  in  any  elementary 
portion  of  it  possessing,  as  a  whole,  any  given  velocity  or  accelera- 
tion, estimated  as  if  we  were  dealing  with  a  continuous  mass. 

Diffusion  op  Gases. 
If  any  further  light  is  to  be  thrown  on  the  physical 
nature  of  a  molecule  from  investigations,  experimental  or 
analytical,  concerning  gases,  it  wUl  most  probably  be  b'y 
means  of  experiments  on  the  diffusion  of  gases,  or  else  on 
the  internal  friction  or  viscosity  of  gases,  and  the  com- 
parison of  these  results  ■with  those  obtained  analytically 
by  the  methods  of  the  kinetic  theory.  Such  investiga- 
tions have  been  undertaken  experimentally  by  Graham, 
Loschmidt,  Maxwell,  O.  E.  Meyer,  and  o.iiers.  An  ac- 
count of  them  will  be  found  in  O.  E.  Meyer's  work  above 
referred  to.  The  same  problems  have  also  been  discusses 
analytically  by  Maxwell,'  and  by  Stefan,  O.  E.  Meyer,  anc 
Boltzmann  in  the  treatises  referred  to  below.  We  pro- 
ceed to  give  a  short  account  of  ileyer's  results. 


^-JShiL.Mag.,  July  1860,  and  Feb.  and  M.ttcU  1863. 
XVI.  -^  73 


618 


MOLECULE 


;The  term  "  diffusion  "  has  sometimes  been  applied  to  the 
process  by  which  a  gas  passes  through  a  porous  diaphragm. 
This,  however,  is  now  generally  denominated  transpiration. 
It  has  also  been  applied  to  the  expansion  of  a  gas  into 
Tacuum,  as  on  the  removal  of  a  diaphragm  separating  the 
gas  from  an  exhausted  receiver.  This  is  now  generally 
denominated  free  e.xpansion.  We  shall  understand,  as  is 
now  usual,  by  the  term  diffusion  the  process  by  which, 
■when  two  or  more  gases  are  mixed  throughoui.  any  space 
in  different  proportions  at  different  points,  but  so  that  if 
all  molecules  were  of  the  same  gas  the  whole  would  be  in 
equilibrium,  the  different  gases  pass  through  each  other 
and  tend  to  equalize  the  proportions  at  all  points  in  the 
space. 

Suppose,  for  instance,  a  tube  containing  a  mixture  of  two  gases,  A 
r.nd  B^  at  constant  temperature  and  constant  pressure  of  the  com- 
bined gases  throughout  the  tube  and  subject  to  no  forces,  but  tho 
density  of  gas'^  increasing  and  that  of  B  diminishing  from  one 
end  of  the  tube  to  the  other.  Let  the  axis  of  the  tube  be  taken  for 
the  axis  of  x.  If  N^,  be  the  number  of  molecules  of  gas  A,  and  iVj 
the  number  of  molecules  of  gas  B  in  unit  volume,  we  have,  owing 
to  the  constant  pressure  and  temperature  at  all  points  of  the  tube, 
jS'^-\- Nf,=  Ny  a  constant.  But  at  a  given  instant  N^  andiV^  at  any 
point  are  severally  functions  of  x.  It  will  be  found  that  under 
tliese  circumstances  more  molecules  of  gas  A  pass  through  any  sec- 
tion of  the  tube,  which  may  be  in  the  plane  of  yz,  in  one  direction, 
i^?.y  from  left  to  right,  than  in  the  opposite  direction.  On  the 
rther  hand,  more  molecules  of  gas  B  pass  from  right  to  left  than 
from  left  to  right.  And  this  ■will  go  on  till  the  mixture  becomes 
uniform  throughout  the  tube. 

The  investigation  of  the  rate  at  which  the  unequal  distribution 
tends  to  equalise  itself  in  this  simple  case— that  is,  the  excess  of  the 
number  of  molecules  of  gas  A  which  cross  a  section  of  the  tube  from 
kft  to  right  over  the  number  crossing  in  the  same  time  from  riglit 
to  left — is  the  problem  of  diffusion.  We  give  the  results  obtained  by 
O.  E.  Meyer  as  follows: — if  the  molecules  of  the  two  gases  had  the 
same  mass  and  dimensions  (t»  put  an  ideal  case),  then  the  excess  of 
molecules  of  either  gas  passing  through  the  section  in  one  direction — 

that  is,  the  stream  velocity — would  be-g  -3-^  wi,  where  I  denotes 

tho  mean  free  path  for  a  molecule  having  velocity  w,  and  wl  is  tlie 
average  value  of  that  function  for  all  molecules  of  the  gas, 

'  When  we  come  to  deal  with  two  gases,  the  molecules  of  one  not 
being  of  the  same  size  and  dimensions  with  those  of  the  other,  we 
ehall  find  that,  in  the  absence  of  any  common  velocity  of  the  two 
biases  at  the  plane  of  yz,  more,  or  fever,  molecules  of  gas  A  would 
cross  the  plane  per  unit  of  time  from  left  to  right  than  of  gas  B 
from  right  to  left,  because,  assuming  constant  pressure  and  tem- 
jierature  of  the  mixture  at  every  point  in  the  tube,  the  number  of 

molecules  of  the  two  gases  combined  must  be  the  same  at  every 
|r>oin*'--*'bat  is,  iV  +iVj  =  JV,  where  A' is  constant.     Heuco 
dN'„         dN. 


dx 


dx 


^Now  the  excess  of  molecules  of  gas  A  coming  from  left  to  right 


per  unit  of  time  is 


1_  dN^ 
3     dx 


iilat   and  similarly  the  excess  of  mole- 


cules of  gas  B  crossing  from  right  to  left  per  unit  of  time  is 
-^  r-j— *  w/j,,  if  we  now  distinguish  by  suffixes  a  and  b  quantities 

relating  to  the  two  gases  respectively.  Here  7^  and  7^  are  mean 
free  paths  for  velocity  w  of  the  two  kinds  of  molecules  through  the 
mixed  gases,  and  w^^  ^  ^^^  generally  equal  to  uly  Hence  the 
total  number  of  molecules  crossing  the  plane  from  left  to  right  ex- 
ceeds the  number  coming  from  right  to  left  by  -g-  jZ  i^^a  ~  ^^h)- 
r  Meyer  here  assumes  that  the  combined  gases  have  a  common 
velocity '- -3- -^   (w^a  -  w^t),    and    that   such    common    velocity 

will  not  affect  the  relative  motion  of  tho  molecules.  On  that  hypo- 
thesis the  rate  0 1  diffusion  can  be  calculated  as  follows.  The  pro- 
portion of  the  Bt  earn  of  tho  combined  gases  which  consists  of  mole- 
cules of  gas  A  i» 

^,      1  dN,  ,_  '  _  .s 
..'W^N,  S   dx    Wo -"'»', • 
Hence  tho  total  surplus  number  of  molecules  of  gis  A  passing 
tlirough  unit  area  of  tUo  piano  per  unit  of  time  is/ 


The  expression 


B^f-1'V^^H-.V..-U 


3A^ 


[N-j,ul^  +  N^ulf} 


is  defined  to  be  the  "  coefficient  of  difiiision  "  of  gas  :a^inlo^(a$  B. 
It  is  evidently  the  same  as  that  of  gas  B  into  gas  A, 

2'he  Jiclation  of  the  Coefficient  of  Zfijiusion  to  Density. — 1:  can 
be  shown  that  l^^,  the  mean  free  path  for  a  molecule  having  v<:\o~ 
city  w,  is  for  any  single  gas  inversely  proportional  to  the  density^ 
and  for  any  mixture  of  gases  inversely  proportional  to  \  the  ag- 
gregate volume  occupied  by  matter  in  unit  space.    'HeUce^  in  thd 

expression  -^  wl  -j-,  cjI  is  inversely  proportional  to  fKe  density, 

or  to  X,  as  the  case  may  be. 

'   Now  the  lite  of  diffusion  on  this  theory  depends  updlT-       *   "^ 


3  dx 
per  unit  of 


Hence,  given  the  absolute  increase  of  density  of  a  | 
length,  that  is,  given  -j—,  the  rate  of  diffusion  ought  to  vary  in- 
versely as  the  density  of  the  combined  gases.  On  the  other  hand, 
given  the  proportional  increase  of  the  density,  or  -^  -3^-,  the  rati  of 


J^  dx* 

diSusion  ought  to  be  independent  of  the  density,  because  in  that  ■:aiie 
dN  —  ■  '     ■ 

J—  varies  directly,  and  ul  inversely,  as  N.     The  analytical  result, 

djy 

that  at  given  temperatures,  and  given  the  absolute  value  of  ^— ,    tha 

rate  of  diffusion  is  inversely  proportional  to  the  density  of  the  gases 
agrees  with  the  experimental  results  obtained  by  Loschmidt  for 
carbonic  acid  gas  and  air,  carbonic  acid  gas  and  hydrogen,  hj'drogea 

and  oxygen.^  .  ^ 

Jiclation  of  tTi^  toefficient  <if  Dijfusian  to  Tanpcratit're. —Tho^ 
coefficient  of  diffusion  varies  dii-ectly  as  the  square  root  of  the  al.  >o-^ 
lute  tcn'.perature,  for 


VA 


•^l=ir. 


'2;i(j--f-i  I 

'-Wir.1 


line' 


f=\;a 


or,  if  u\^=fj 


vX 


£      VTrJ^V 


where  ^  denotes  a  certain  function,  and 

(I)  -  '■^/>--^"7J 


This  analjiiical  result  also  agre 
ments  above  refeiTed  to. 


fairly  with  Loschmidt's  oxji-'a- 


Fkiction  ok  Viscositv  of  Gases. 
Suppose  two  layers  of  gas  separated  hy  an  imaginary 
plane,  similar  in  all  respects  except  that  the  molecules  of 
one  have  a  small  common  momentum  in  a  certain  direction 
parallel  to  the  plane.-  We  may  take  the  imaginary  plane 
for  that  of  y:,  and  the  average  direction  of  motion  of  the 
molecules  on  one  side  of  the  plane,  €.17.,  the  left-hand  side, 
for  tho  axis  of  y,  the  molecules  on  the  right-hand  side  ol 
the  jilane  having  no  average  momentum.  Then  tho  mole 
cules  crossing  from  the  left  to  the  right  side  carry  witl 
them  an  average  momentum  in  the  direction  y,  and  so  tenc 
to  impress  the  right-hand  .«tratnm  of  gas  with  that  mo 
mentum.'  On  the  other  hand,  the  molecules  of  the  right 
hand  stratum  crossing  tho  plane  into  the  left-hand  on< 
have,  relatively  to  the  molecules  in  the  latter,  an  average 
momentum  in  the  opposite  direction,  and  therefbre  lend  U 
diminish  the  average  momentum  of  the  left-hand  stratum 


1  SUiunaitierichtc,  18V0,  Dd.  1x1.  8.  880.    •    "•  See  Mcvcr'8  Kin.  Thcorit,  p.  ^.' 


MOLECULE 


619 


ISence,  if  we  attempt  to  cause  one  stratum  of  gas  to  pass 
over  another  in  parallel  planes,  we  experience  ■»  resistance 
due  to  the  intercliange  of  molecules  between  the  portions 
•f  gas  separated  by  the  plane.  This  is  in  some  respects 
analogous  to  sliding  friction  between  solid  bodies,  and  is 
called  by  German  writers  the  "  friction  "  {Reibung),  by  Max- 
well and  others  the  "  viscosity,"  of  the  gas.  Meyer  ^  investi- 
gates this  effect  of  friction  in  a  manner  somewhat  similar 
to  that  employed  in  case  of  di6Fusion,  and  obtains  for  the 
coefficient  of  viscosity  J  mNid. 

Relation  of  Ou  Coefficient  of  Vixosity  to  Density  and  Tempera- 
ture.— The  viscosity  of  a  gas  is  independent  of  the  density,  being, 

according  to  0.  E.  Meyer,  —^  ul.  Now,  for  any  one  gas,  l^  is,  as 
we  have  seen,  inversely  proportional  to  the  density,  and  therefore 
(di  is  inversely  pnjportional  to  the  density.  On  the  other  hand,  N 
is  directly  proportional  to  the  density.  Hence  the  viscosity  is  in- 
dependent of  the  density.  This  agrees  with  the  result  obtained 
by  Maxwell  from  the  kinetic  theory  in  1860,  and  with  the  results 
©f  experiments  by  Maxwell^  and  O.  E.  Mey>;r.*  Also,  experiments 
by  O.  E.  Meyer  and  Springmiihl  *  on  the  transpiration  of  gases  show 
that  the  times  in  which  two  dijferent  gases  under  similar  circum- 
stances flow  through  a  tube  maintain  the  same  constant  ratio  to 
one  another.  As  in  the  case  of  the  coefficient  of  diffusion,  wl  is 
inversely  proportional  to  the  square  root  of  the  absolute  temperature. 
As  both  the  coefficient  of  diffusion  and  that  of  viscosity  depend 
on  the  same  function  ul,  it  should  be  possible  from  experiments  on 
viscosity  to  determine  the  rate  of  diffusion.  E.xperiments  with  this 
•bject  have  been  conducted  by  Stefan*  with  very  satisfactory  "results, 
his  calculated  values  for  the  coefficient  of  diffusion  agreeiug  very 
closely  with  those  determined  by  Loschmidt's  direct  experiment.* 
■  We  have  given  the  above  results  for  the  coefficients  of  diffusion 
ind  viscosity  from  0.  E.  Meyer's  work,  because  his  method  has  met 
with  very  general  acceptance.  It  has  been  shown,  however,  by 
Boltzmann,'  that  the  method  is  incomplete.  Meyer's  results  can 
only  bo  obtained  on  the  assumption  that  the  molecules  of  a  gas 
undergoing  diffusion  or  internal  friction,  which  have  any  given  velo- 
city, as«j,  are  moving  with  that  velocity  in  all  directions  indifferently. 
We  may  calculate  the  number  of  molecules  having  velocity  to  that 
pass  through  a  given  plane  during  a  short  time  di,  starting  from 
encounters  at  any  given  distance  from  the  plane.  If  we  assume 
that  the  molecules,  issuing  from  such  encounters  with  velocity  tr, 
move  indifferently  in  all  directions,  we  obtain  Meyer's  result. 
This  assumption  is  true  only  of  a  gas  at  rest — that  is,  having  no 
velocity  of  translation — so  that  our  result  so  obtained  would  express, 
ia  case  of  diffusion,  the  rate  at  which  two  gases  be<Fin  to  diffuse,  if 
given  at  any  instant  both  at  rest — that  is,  with  no  stream  velocity 
— but  mix^  in  unequal  proportions  in  different  parts  of  space. 
In  any  actual  case  ol  diffusion,  either  of  the  two  diffusing  gases 
fir:  quires  a  small  velocity  of  translation.  If  we  take  this  velocity 
into  account  in  calculating  the  number  of  molecules  of  the  gas 
passing  through  a  plane,  according  to  Meyer's  method,  we  shall 
find  that  it  introduces  two  new  terms,  one  of  which,  when  the 
motion  becomes  steady,  is  equal  and  opposite  to  the  result  obtained 
by  Meyer.  This  is  proved  by  Boltzmann  in  thp  case  of  viscosity  in 
i.ie  treatisa  above  referred  to.  The  same  proof  is  easily  applied  in 
the  case  of  diffusion. 

Stefan's  Method.  — Stefan  *  regards  the  two  diffusing  gases  as 
Laving  small  velocities  of  translation,  or  stream  velocities,  itj  and 
lip  in  opposite  directions,  so  that  the  molecules  of  one  gas,  of 
mass  mi,  nave  an  average  momentum  wtjW,  in  direction  from  left 
to  right,  and  those  of  the  other  gas,  of  mass  m^  an  average  mo- 
mentum TTi^Mj  from  right  to  left  By  virtue  of  encounters  between 
t'ae  two  sets  of  molecules,  each  gas  is  always  imparting  to  the 
cJier  a  portion  of  its  own  average  momentum,  and  receiving 
fiom  the  other  a  corresponding  momentum  in  the  opposite  direc- 
fon.  The  momentum  so  transferred  or  interchanged  is  what 
S  tefan  calls  the  rcsistaiiee  which  one  gas  offers  to  the  other's  diffusion. 
In  this  investigation  Stefan  assumes  that  all  classes  of  molecules 
of  one  gas,  whatever  their  molecular  velocity  in  space,  have  the 
f  'jne  average  velocity  in  the  direction  of  diffusion — that  is,  the  same 
s  ream  velocity — so  that  the  motion  of  the  molecules  of  a  diffusing 
gas  would  be  exactly  represented  by  considering  the  molecules  of  a 
gia  at  rest — that  is,  with  only  its  molecular  velocity — at  the  same 


«  PoggenaorJ^f  AnnaUn,  1871,  cxliii.  14. 

•  Pogg.  Ann.,  1873,  cxlviii.  1  and  526. 

•  SiUttn^ii)fT.  d.  k..k.  Akad.,  1872,  Ixv.  323. 

•  For  a  foil  account  of  these  aDd  other  expenmesta  on  dtffbsion  and  vis- 
jlty,  sec  O.  E.  Meyer,  Sinctiaclu  TKeorie  d.  Coat,  mder  the  heads  "  Reihong  " 
d  "DiffQsion." 

?  "  Zor  Oas-BeibODg,"  in  the  Silinnfthtr.  d.  t.-t.  Akad.,  1881. 

;•  Hemoir  "  On  th"  Dj-camical  Theory  of  Diffusion"  (oitainjjier.  d.  *.-t  Aiad., 


temperature  and  pressure,  and  then  giving  to  each  molecule  the" 
additional  common  velocity  u  in  the  direction  of  diffusion.  Bolti-' 
niann,  however,  shows  that,  in  order  correctly  to  represent  the  motion' 
of  the  diBiismg  gas,  we  must  impart  to  molecules  having  different 
molecular  velocities  independent  of  direction  different  c-ramon 
velocities  in  the  direction  of  diffusion.  And  it  will  be  found  that 
the  resistance  of  the  gases  is  sensibly  modified  by  this  property.*    j 

The  complete  solution  of  the  problem,— that  is,  the  determina^ 
tion  of  u  as  a  function  of  to,  on  the  hypothesis  that  the  molecules 
are  elastic  spheres, — is  difficult. 

If  we  assume  molecules  to  bo  centres  of  force  varying  inversely  as 
the  nth  power  of  the  distance,  so  that  the  force  at  distance  r  is  --, 
where  ;i  is  constant,  we  obtain  the  following  result  We  assume 
the  molecules  of  gas  .4  whose  absolute  velocities  are  between 
v>  and  w  +  dwto  have  an  average  stream  velocity  «  in  direction  of 
the  tube,  where  u  is  a  function  of  w.  Then,  if  the  terminal  con- 
dition at  the  ends  of  the  tube  be  maintained  constant,  we  obtiin  an 
equation  of  the  form 

p  dX'^_in-8„       m,m,         rN^N^ 

N  dx      Zn-Z     '  Bij +  171,  unit  volume 

multiplied  by  the  average  value  for  all  molecules  of  gas  A  of 

u  F'''~',whereristherelativevelocity  of  two  molecules,  one  taken 

from  each  j,as,  and  C  is  a  constant,  and  ot„  m,  the  masses  of  the 

molecules  cf  gas  .<^  and  gas  B  respectively. 

By  making  n  infinite  we  obtain  the  result  for  elastic  spheres :  in 

»-5  '' 

that  case  r''-l  =  r,  and  the  problem  is  to  find  the  average  value 
of  uV. 

Since  p  varies  as  the  absolute  temperature,  and  the  average  valuo 
of  T  varies  as  the  square  root  of  the  absolute  temperature,  we  mav 
infer  that  the  average  value  of  u — that  is,  the  stream  velocity — will 
vary  approximately  as  the  square  root  of  the  temperature,  as  it 
appears  to  do  from  experimental  evidence.  If,  on  the  other  hand, 
n  =  5,  V  disappears,  and  _3  =  ^-  1°  this  case  the  analytical  de- 
termination of  u  presents  no  difficulty  ;  but  in  the  result  the  stream 
velocity  varies  as  the  absolute  temperature,  which  accords  less  satis- 
factorily with  experiments. 

On    MoLECtTLAR    DIMENSIONS. 

Many  attempts  have  been  made  in  recent  years  to  form 
an  estimate  or  conjecture,  more  or  less  accurate,  of  the 
numerical  value  of  the  dimensions  of  a  molecule  and  the 
absolute  force  between  molecules.'" 

In  accordance  with  the  view  of  the  subject  consiucred 
in  this  article,  we  are  here  concerned  with  such  specula- 
tions only  in  so  far  as  they  are  founded  upon  the  kbietic 
theory  of  gases,  or  supported  by  it.  The  phenomena  of 
diffusion  and  viscosity  especially  have  afforded  grounds  for 
estimates  of  molecular  dimensions. 

It  is  first  necessary  to  define  what  is  meant  by  the 
dimensions  of  a  molecule.  Regarded  as  an  clastic  sphere, 
it  has  dimensions  with  the  conception  of  which  we  are 
familiar.  It  is  not,  of  course,  seriously  contended  by  any 
physicists  that  the  molecules  of  a  gas  are  actually  hard 
elastic  spheres,  exerting  no  force  on  each  other  at  any  dis- 
tance greater  than  that  of  actual  contact,  and  then  an 
infinite  force.  It  is  necessary  to  conceive  the  forces  as. 
finite,  although  they  may  diminish  so  rapidly  with  the  dis- 
tance as  that  the  motions  of  molecules  in  the  aggregate 
differ  little  from  what  they  would  be  if  the  molecules  were 
ideal  elastic  spheres.  Nevertheless,  they  must  be  finite 
forces ;  and,  that  being  the  case,  it  is  diffiqult,  if  not  im- 
possible, to  frame  a  definition  of  the  boundary  of  a  mole- 
cule, except  as  a  certain  surface  at  which  the  forces  acting 
between  the  molecule  in  question  and  other  molecules 
attain  a  certain  value. 

If,  for  instance,  we  were  to  regard  a  molecuie  as  a  centre  of  force. 


*  For  Boltzmann's  own  treatment  of  the  subject  we  cannot,  within  the  limits 
of  this  article,  do  moro  than  refer  the  reader  to  the  memoir  above  mentioned, 
"  Zur  6as-Beibung."  and  another  as  yet  nndnlshed  memoir  "  On  Diffusion,"  in 
the  Sitsufi^sbtr.  d.  k..k,  Akad.,  18S2.  -  | 

w  An  account  of  these  wiU  be  found  in  O.  E.  Meyer's  Kin.  Tkeorit  d.  Case, 
in  Professor  Tail's  Recent  Advanced  in  Physical  Science,  lecL  xii.,  and  in  the 
foUowing  memoirs :— /"Ail.  Jfo?.,  July  1879,  "  On  the  Size  of  Molecules."  by  N. 
D.  C.  Hodges;  Phil.  Mag.,  March  1830,  "  On  the  Mean  Free  Path  of  Molecule^" 
by  the  same  author.  See  also,  lecture  delivered  by  Sir  \i.  Thomson  at  the. 
Royal  Institution,  2d  Feb.  ISS3. 


620 


MOLECULE 


iexcrting  an  attractive  force  -^  and  a  repulsive  forco  -rf,  we  iniglit 

define  the  molecclo  to  ba  a  sphere  of  radiua  a,  sucli  that  -4=— 7. 

In  like  manner,  regarding  a  molecule  as  a  centre  of  force,  repelling 
Rccordirg  to  the  law  of  the  inverse  fifth  power  of  the  distance,  we 
might  define  the  magnitude  of  a  molecule  aa  a  sphere  of  radins 
equal  to  the  least  diatence  to  which  two  molecules,  whose  relative 
velocity  is  equal  to  the  mean  velocity  of  the  centres  of  force, 
approach  each  other  In  a  direct  encounter. 

If  Oil  any  hypothes^  concerning  the  nature  of  a  molecule,  or  the 
law  of  force  which  acts  during  encounters,  we  caa  calculate  the  co- 
efficient of  viscosity  or  diffusion  anal}iicaUy,  a  compariBon  of  the 
auaiytical  result  with  results  obtained  by  eyjwrimeafc  may  afford 
the  means  of  determining  the  absolute  numerical  value  of  the  con- 
stants used  in  the  analysis.  For  example,  if  we  consider  the  mole- 
cules as  clastic  spheres,  and  if  we  consider  for  a  monlent  Meyer's 
results   as  correct,   or  approximately  correct,   the  coeflBcient  of 

viscosity  for  any  single  gas  can  be  put  in  the  form.  -5-  wZ^, 
v/here  N  is  the  number  of  molecules  in  unit  of  volume,  m  the  mass 
of  a  molecule.     Now,  for  every  value  of  w?(j,  the  mean  free  path 

of  a  molecule  with  that  velocity  is  equal  to  \/h  ^  -3,  where  s  is 
tivics  the  radius  of  a  molecule  multiplied  by  a  numerical  factor 
which  can  he  determined  to  any  required  degree  of  accuracy.  Also 
at  given  temperature  and  pressure  the  numerical  value  of  \//t  is 
known.  It  follows  that  we  can  calculate  the  numerical  value  of 
the  ceelScieat  of  viscosity  by  analytical  methods  in  terms  of  A^irs^ 

to  any  required  degree  of  accuracy.  Let  it  be  jy^  •  If  by  experi- 
ments on  viscosity  we  can  determine  the  numerical  value  of  the 
same  coeflScieut  in  the  form  C^,  when  C\  is  a  mere  numerical  quan- 
tity, we  have  immediately  the  equation  C^—  -^—i,  or  Nirs^  =  -^  , 
This  pives  in  absolute  numerical  measure  the  value  of  Ntr^,  or 
four  tunes  the  sum  of  the  great  cii'cle  areas  of  all  the  molecules  in 
unit  of  volume,  supposing  them  to  be  spherical.  If  we  attempt  to 
use  the  coefficient  of  diffusion  instead  of  viscosity  in  this  method,  we 
are  met  by  the  difficulty  that  the  azialytical  result  contains  now 
two  unknown  quantities  Instead  of  one — namely,  the  radii  of  the 
respective  molecules  of  the  two  gases  in  quesrion.  If  this  difficulty 
be  got  over  by  a  comparison  of  results  obtained  in  different  ex- 
periments, the  greater  ceitainty  attending  the  observations  on  dif- 
fusion might  perhaps  compensate  for  the  additional  mathematical 
difficnlty,  and  render  diffusion  at  least  equally  trustworthy  with 
viscosity  as  a  method  for  estimating  molecular  dimeneions.  Again, 
on  the  hypothesis  of  repulsion  between  molecules  according  to  the 
law  of  the  inverse  fifth  power  of  the  distance,  we  can  calculate 
analytically  the  rate  of  diffiision  betweeu  two  reservoirs  connected 
by  a  tube  as  above  described,  the  result  containing  only  one 
\inknown  constant,  viz.,  (i,  the  constant  of  absolute  force.     Com- 

Saring  the  analytical  result  with  the  results  of  experiments  on 
iffusicn  through  such  a  tube  as  above  described,  if  we  find  them 
capable  of  being  harmonized  by  attributing  any  numerical  value  to 
(i^  wo  should  have  good  reason  for  concluding  that  the  law  of  force 
assumed  is  to  a  certain  extent  at  least  the  true  law,  and  that  the 
particular  value  of  /i  is  that  which  harmonizes  the  analytical  with 
the  experimental  results.  And  the  determination  of /:*,  the  absolute 
force,  conesponds  to,  or  indeed  is,  the  dotenuination  of  the  size  of 
the  molecule. 

Until  all  the  mathematical  hypotheses  have  been  fully  developed, 
no  very  great  reliance  can  be  placed  on  the  results  of  such  com- 
parisons, even  assuming  that  the  experimentsd  results  themselves 
are  to  be  depended  upon..  However  valuable  the  experiments  may 
be  for  other  purposes,  they  are  not  valuable  for  the  purpose  of 
dctei-mimng  molecular  dimensions  until  our  mathematical  analysis 
is  sufficiency  advanced  to  enable  ua  to  interpret  the  experiment. 
At  present  it  is  perhaps  impossible  to  deduce  from  the  experiments 
any  other  result  bearing  on  this  quesrion  than  that  the  coefficients 
of  diffusion  and  viscosity  increase  with  increasing  temperature,  and 
probably  contain  an  important  term  proportional  to  the  square  root 
of  the  absolute  temperature.  If,  indeed,  it  can  be  ehown  that  that 
is  the  only  term,  and  tf  it  can  be  also  shown  that  the  density  of  one 
of  two  diffusing  gases  in  a  tube  through  which  steady  diffusion  is 
going  on  tends  to  vary  in  geometrical  progression,  then  the  analysis 
will  lead  us  to  the  conclusion  that  molecules  of  gases  behave  in 
their  physical  relations  to  each  other  as  if  they  were  elastic  spheres. 
The  following  method  has  also  been  suggested  for  estimating  the 
magnitude  of  molecules  of  mercury.  Mercury  is  regarded  by  most 
chemists  as  monatomic.  Let  us  assume  that  its  molecules  are  con- 
ducting spheres;  on  that  assumption  wo  may  calculate  the  specific 
inductive  capacity  of  mercury  vapour  on  Faraday's  hypothesis  to  be 

\_\t  whore  X  is  the  ratio  which  the  aggregate  volume  of  all  the 


spherical  molecules  in  unit  volume  bears  to  unit  volume.     If  now 
K,  the  specific  inductive  capacity  of  merciry  vapour,  can  be  deier- 

mined  experimentally,  the  equation  K=  -z — r    affords  a  ground 

for  estimating  the  value  of  X, — that  is,  the  aggregate  volume  of  the 
molecules. 

Another  method,  originally  proposed  by  Van  der  "Waals,  is  founded 
on  the  small  deviations  from  Boyle'a  law  observed  in  all  gases. 
Suppose  a  vessel  of  volume  V  containing  a.  number  N^  of  Mastic 
spheres,  each  of  mass  m,  moving  with  a  certain  average  kinetic 
energy.  Lot  77,  be  the  pressure.  Let  a  second  class  of  elastio 
spheres,  in  number  N^,  each  of  the  same  mass  m  as  the  former  class 
and  having  the  same  average  kineric  energy,  be  introduced  into  the 
vesseL  If  the  second  class  of  spheres  could  freely  penetrate  the 
first,  and  vice  versa,  so'  that  there  should  be  no  restTictions  on  a 
sphere  of  the  first  class  and  a  sphere  of  the  eecond  being  in  the 
same  place  at  the  same  time,  then  the  pressure  on  the  walls  of  the 


vessel  would  be  increased  in  the  exact  proportion 


A'l 


Boyle'a 


law  would  be  exactly  fulfilled.  But  if  the  spheres  cannot  pene- 
trate each  other,  the  volume  occupied  by  the  seci/nd  class  of  sphferes 

is  not  Vy  but  V-  ~^  A^jirr^,  if  r  be  the  radius  of  a  sphere  of  the 

first  class.  Consequently,  the  pressure  due  to  the  second  class  of 
spheres  is  rather  greater  than  it  should  be,  and  there  is  a  email 
deviation  from  Boyle's  law.  Yan  der  Waals  treats  the  pressure  aa 
proportional  to  the  number  of  encounters,  and  therefore  inversely 
proportioaal  to  the  mean  free  path,  which  is  evidently  diminish^ 
by  any  increase  in  the  magnitude  of  the  spheres,  and  diminished 
more  than  in  proportion  by  any  increase  iu  the  number. 

(H.  W.  W.— S.  H.  B.) 

Chemical  Aspect. 

Tlie  word  Molecule  is  used  by  chemists  to  express  the  unit 
of  a  pure  substance,  that  quantity  of  it  which  its  formula 
ought  to  represent.  What  this  quantity  is,  in  any  particular 
case,  must  be  ascertained  by  studying  the  chemical  actions 
by  which  the  substance  is  produced  and  the  chemical  changes 
which  it  undergoes.  We  may  give  one  or  two  illustrations 
to  show  how  this  can  be  done,  as  well  as  to  indicate  the 
limits  within  which  these  methods  can  be  appUed. 

The  formula  usually  assigned  to  acetic  acid  is  CoH^Oy 
This  agrees  with  almost  all  the  chemical  actions  in  which 
it  takes  part.  Thiis,  one  quarter  of  the  hydrogen  is 
replaceable  by  other  metals,  as  in  CgHgKOg,  &c. ;  and  one, 
two,  or  three  quarters  of  the  hydrogen  can  be  replaced  by 
chlorine.  There  must,  therefore,  be  foui-  (or  a  multiple  of 
four)  atoms  of  hydrogen  in  the  molecule.  Similarly,  half 
of  the  oxygen  can  bo  replaced  by  sulphur,  and  one-half  of 
the  ozygen  along  with  one-quarter  of  the  hydrogen  can 
be  replaced  by  chlorine.  There  must,  therefore,  be  two 
(or  a  multiple  of  two)  atoms  of  oxygen  in  the  molecule. 
Again,  the  formation  of  marsh  gas  and  carbonate  of  soda, 
when  acetate  of  soda  is  heated  with  caustic  soda,  and  tb^ 
formation  of  aceto-nitrile  from  cyanide  of  potassium  and 
iodide  of  methyl,  show  that  the  carbon  in  acetic  acid  is 
divisible  by  two,  or  that  the  molecule  contains  two  (or  a 
multiple  of  two)  atoms  of  carbon.  CMfio  is  the  simplest 
formula  which  fulfils  these  conditions,  but  the  existence  of 
an  acid  acetate  of  potash  and  an  acid  acetate  of  ammonia, 
the  fonnulse  of  which  ^e  usually  written  CgHgKOg, 
C0H4O2  and  CoH3(NH4)02,  C2H4O2,  as  if  these  were  com- 
pounds derived  from  two  mofecules  of  acetic  acid,  might 
lead  us  to  C4H3O4,  as  this  shows  that  the  hydrogen  is 
divisible  by  eight.  In  the  same  way,  we  can  easily  saUsfy^ 
ourselves  that  C^HioO^,  or  soin^  multiple  of  it,  is  the 
formula  of  starch ;  that  CgH^NO,  or  some  vudtiple  of  it,  ls 
the  formula  of  indigo  blue,  and  so  on.  But  it  is  not  easy 
to  determine  by  purely  chemical  methods  whether  thesf^ 
formulae  themselves,  or  multiples  of  them,  really  represent 
the  molecule.  A  simple  formida  may  suffice  for  a  great 
many  of  the  reactions  of  a  substance,  and  may  enable  m. 
to  represent  a  great  many  of  its  derivatives, .  and  yet 
reactions  and  derivatives  may  be  discovered  which  requira 
a  multiple  of  that  simplo  formula.  This  has  already  been 
indicated  in  reference  to  acetic  acid,  and  a.  very  striking 


MOLECULE 


621 


illustration  is  supplied  by  meUitic  acid.  For  a  long 
time  the  formula  C,H20j  Tvas  used  for  this  acid,  and  by 
means  of  it  all  the  then  known  derivatives  were  repre- 
sented. But  later  investigations  by  Baeyer  proved  that 
this  formula  must  ba  multiplied  by  three,  the  new  deriva- 
tives obtained  by  him  not  being  capable  of  representation 
with  any  formula  simpler  than  CijHgOj^.  Very  many  ex- 
amples of  the  same  kind  might  be  adduced,  but  those  given 
may  serve  to  show  the  nature  of  the  difficulty  of  settling 
the  formula  and  with  it  the  molecular  weight  of  a  sub- 
atanoe.  It  need  scarcely  be  said  that  the  multiple  formula 
represents  everything  which  the  simple  formula  represents 
and  something  more,  and  that  chemists  as  a  rule  take  the 
simplest  formula  which  will  answer  the  purpose.  These 
chemical  methods  of  determining  the  formula  and  mole- 
cular weight  apply  equally  to  all  pure  substances,  but  they 
do  not  give  us  absolute  values,  only  numbers  to  which 
tho  molecular  weights  are  proportionaL  And  for  purely 
chemical  purposes  these  are  all  that  we  require.  Thus, 
■when  a  chemist  speaks  of  acting  on  a  molecule  of  suc- 
cinic acid  vrith  two  molecules  of  pentachloride  of  phos- 
phorus, he  means  that  he  mixes  them  in  the  proportion 
of  118  parts  of  the  former  to  2  x  177'5  of  the  latter. 
For  the  sake  of  precision  we  sometimes  speak  of  a  mole- 
cule of  water  (or  other  substance)  in  grammes,  or  even  of 
AgrammeJtnolecvle,  AffraiTtr-molectile,  &c.  Thus,  in  the  case 
just  mentioned  a  gramme-molecule  of  succinic  acid  means 
118  grammes  of  succinic  acid,  &c. 

But,  while  for  practical  purposes  these  proportional 
niimbers  are  quite  sufScient,  we  cannot  leave  out  of  view 
their  relation  to  the  actual  constitution  of  matter.  There 
is  good  reason  to  believe  that  matter  consists  of  discrete 
particles,  and  that  every  pure  substance  is  made  up  of 
small  portions  of  matter,  all  alike,  so  that  one  of  them,  if 
we  could  examine  it,  would  give  us  a  complete  idea  of 
the  chemical  composition,  constitution,  and  character  of 
the  substance.  These  small  portions,  of  which  the  smallest 
quantity  of  the  substance  which  we  can  examine  contains 
many  millions,  we  may  call  molecules.  From  the  character 
which  we  have  supposed  this  molecule  to  possess — viz.,  that 
it  fully  represents  all  the  chemical  properties  of  the  sub- 
stance— it  will  be  seen  that  these  real,  ultimate  molecules 
must  be  proportional  to  the  molecular  weights  ascertained 
by  chemical  means ;  so  that,  while  for  practical  laboratory 
or  manufacturing  purposes  we  use  the  gramme,  the  pound, 
or  the  ton  as  our  unit,  and  speak  of  18  grammes,  pounds, 
or  tons,  as  the  case  may  be,  of  water,  as  a  molecule  (or 
gramme-molecule,  ton-molecule,  &c.),  in  dealing  with  the 
actual  constitution  of  matter  we  should  iise  as  our  unit 
the  mass  of  a  single  atom  of  hydrogen,  and  our  gramme- 
molscule  would  then  be  a  definite,  very  large,  but  not  yet 
Mcurately  ascertained,  number  of  real  molecules. 

It  has  been  already  shown  above  that,  on  the  kinetic 
theory  of  gas,  a  gas  consists  of  a  number  of  particles 
moving  about  in  straight  lines  in  all  directions,  and  that 
in  a  homogeneous  gas  which  follows  Boyle's  and  Charles's 
l&ws  these  particles  are  all  alike.  The  masses  of  the 
particles  of  different  gases  are  therefore  to  one  another  in 
the  same  proportion  as  the  densities  of  the  gases,  tempera^ 
ture  and  pressure  being  the  same.  Thus,  in  gases,  the  in- 
dependently moving  particles  of  the  kinetic  theory  are  the 
molecules  of  which  the  chemist  is  La  search,  and  it  becomes 
important  that  we  should  compare  our  chemically  found 
molecular  weights  with  the  densities.  Theoretically  accu- 
rate results  could  be  obtained  only  in  the  case  of  a  perfect 
gas ;  but  small  deviations  from  Boyle's  and  Charles's  laws 
do  not  interfere  with  the  application  of  this  method. 
Chemical  methods,  as  we  have  already  seen,  lead  us  to  a 
particular  number,  or  a  multiple  of  it,  so  that  our  choice  is 
aa  a  rule  limited  to  two  or  three  numbers  widely  differing 


from  one  another.  We  find  that  if  we  do  not  exceed  the 
limits  of  chemical  stability  a  gas  approaches  the  state  of  a 
perfect  gas  0,3  the  tercporature  increases,  or  as  the  pres- 
sure diminishes.  Now  if  one  of  the  ntimters  rendered 
probable  by  chemical  evidence  nearly  coincides  vrith  that 
given  by  comparison  of  gas  densities,  under  conditions 
where  the  substance  sensibly  deviates  from  Boyle's  and 
Charles's  laws,  we  find  that  by  diminishing  the  pressure  or 
increasing  tho  temperature  within  the  limits  of  chemical 
stability,  and  thus  bringing  the  substance  nearer  the  state 
of  a  perfect  gas,  the  correspondence  between  these  two 
numbers  becomes  closer.  This  has  already  been  pointed 
out  and  illustrated  in  the  article  Chemistey,  toL  v.  p.  469. 
We  can  now  compare  the  results,  in  the  case  of  gases, 
of  the  chemical  and  of  the  physical  determination  of 
molecular  weight,  by  giving  some  examples,  placing  side 
by  side  the  formula  and  molecular  weight  adopted  by 
chemists,  and  the  mass,  in  grammes,  of  the  gas  occupying 
the  volume  of  22-33  x  760/^?  x  (273  +  <)/273  Utres.  This 
volume  is  that  which  one  giamme  of  an  ideal  gas  having 
the  molecular  weight  1,  and  perfectly  following  Boyle's 
and  Charles's  laws,  would  occupy  at  pressure  p  millimetres 
of  mercury  and  temperature  t"  C.  If,  then,  w  be  the  mole- 
cular weight  of  any  gas,  w  grammes  of  it  should  occupy 
this  volume,  and  slight  deviation  from  this  would  indicate 
slight  deviation  from  Boyle's  and  Charles's  laws.  In  vha 
aimexed  table  w  is  the  molecular  weight  and  m  the  nuiss 
contained  in  2233  x760//>x  (273 +  i!)/273  litres.  ViTiere 
the  temperature  is  not  specially  stated,  the  determinations 
were  made  under  the  usual  atmospheric  conditions. 


Sulphuretted  hydrogea 

Nitrous  oxide   

Ammonia  „ 

Carbonic  acid   

Mavsh  gaa 

Olefiant.gas  


Hydrogen  ... 

Oxygen 

Chlorine  ... 
Phosphoms 
Arsenic  


Sulphur 

Bromide  of  altuniiiium 
Ferric  chloride 


oal-ammoniac  

Oil  of  vitriol., 

Pentachloride   of  phos- 
phorus     

Sulphide  of  ammonium  . 


H,S 
N,"0 

co/ 

CH4 
C,H. 


I 


Aljfer, 
Fe.C!, 


NH,a 
HjSOi 

PCI5 

(NH,)^ 


71 
124 
300 
102 


34  04 
44-08 
17  12 
44-14 
16-13 
28-44 


71-27 
125-9 
294-6 
194 

63-5 
537-5 
328-8 


29-6 
50-24 

/140 

1 105-4 
22-76 


at  100°  C. 
„  600"  C. 
„  860°  C. 
,,  600°  C. 
,,1000°  C. 
„  440°  0. 
,,  440°  C. 


at  350°  C. 
„  440°  C. 
,,  200°  C. 
„  300°  C. 
„     80°  C. 


A  comparison  of  the  values  of  w  and  m  leads  to  the 
follovring  conclusions : — 

(1)  In  the  case  of  a  very  great  number  of  substanceSj  of 
which  only  a  few  specimens  are  given  in  the  table,  the 
two  determinations  agree,  the  slight  difierences  often 
observed  being  evidently  due  to  deviation  of  the  sub- 
stance from  the  state  of  a  perfect  gas.  (2)  In  a  consider- 
able number  of  substances,  physical  evidence  leads  to  a 
multiple  of  the  simplest  number  satisfying  the  chemical 
conditions.  This  cannot  be  looked  upon  as  a  disagreement 
between  the  methods,  because,  if  a  particular  formula  satis- 
fies tho  chemical  conditions,  any  multiple  of  it  -will  neces- 
sarily do  so ;  and  indeed,  in  many  of  the  cases  we  are  now 
considering,  it  is  possible  from  chemical  considerations  to 
justify  the  higher  molecular  weight  after  it  has  been  sug- 
gested, although  such  chemical  considerations  might  not 
in  all  cases  have  warranted  its  adoption  without  external 
support.     Thus,  we  are  not  without  chemical  evidence  in 


€22 


[MOLECULE 


favour  of  the  formuloa  Ho,  CU,  Oj,  or  even  AloBr„  and  FooCl^, 
although  chemists  would  probably  have  cottteuted  them- 
selves mth  H,  CI,  O,  AlBrj,  and  FeClj,  had  it  not  been  for 
the  evidence  of  gas  and  vapour  density,  and  certainly  with- 
out the  latter  no  one  would  have  thought  of  P^  As^,  or  Sg.' 
(3)  There  are  a  number  of  substances  in  the  case  of 
which  there  is  an  apparent  disagreement  between  the 
results  of  the  two  ways  of  determining  molecular  weight. 
Such  substances  are  said  to  have  an  anomalous  gas  or 
vapour  density.  Tlie  expression  anomalous  vapour  density 
ia  sometimes  applied  to  the  case  of  such  substances  as 
phosphorus  and  arsenic,  but  not  very  accurately.  It 
would  be  better  to  say  that  these  substances  have  an 
unexpected  vapour  density,  because  their  complex  molecular 
formulte,  while  not  clearly  indicated  by  their  chemical 
character,  are  not  at  variance  \vith  any  established  law. 

We  shall  therefore  reserve  the  term  "  anomalous  vapour 
density "  for  those  substances  the  molecular  weight  of 
which  as  given  by  their  vapour  density  is  not  reconcilable 
with  any  formula  which  is  chemically  admissible.  In 
the  case  of  some  substances,  such  as  the  oxides  of  chlorine, 
it  has  been  shown  that  the  discrepancy  was  due  to  errors 
of  observation,  impure  specimens  having  been  used  in 
the  experiments ;  but  there  still  remain  many  substances 
having,  in  the  sense  above  indicated,  an  anomalous  vapour 
density.  These  substances  have  therefore  been  examined 
with  special  care,  with  the  result  of  completely  vindicating 
the  kinetic  theory,  and  of  disclosing  a  very  interesting 
and  theoretically  important  kind  of  chemical  change.  We 
.shall  take,  as  instances  of  such  .anomalous  vapour  densities, 
the  Eubstances  in  the  last  division  of  the  table,  and  show 
how  the  anomaly  has  in  these  ca-ses  been  explained. 

Sal-ammoniac  has  the  composition  represented  by  the 
formula  N"H^C1.  This  formula  agrees  vsith  all  the  chemical 
actions  of  the  substance  and  of  all  the  substances  in  any 
way  related  to  it,  but  it  does  not  agree  with  the  results  of 
vapour  density  determinations.  When  sal-ammoniac  is 
heated  it  is  converted  into  vapour  or  gas,  and  this  vapour 
or  gas  is  reconverted  into  solid  sal-ammoniac  when  it  is 
cooled.  This  looks  exactly  like  the  process  of  sublimation, 
and  it  was  universally  supposed  that  the  vapour  given 
off  when  sal-ammoniac  is  heated  was  really  sal-ammoniac 
vapovu".  But  its  vapour  density  corresponds,  not  to  the  for- 
mula NHjCl  and  the  molecular  weight  53'5,  but  to  the 
half  of  this.  Now  this  formula  does  not  admit  of  divi- 
sion, and  the  explanation  at  once  suggests  itself,  that 
the  vapour  examined  was  not  really  the  vapour  of  sal- 
ammoniac,  but  of  hydrochloric  acid  and  ammonia  gases, 
the  products  of  the  decomposition  of  sal-ammoniac. 

This  would  of  course  completely  explain  the  apparent 
anomaly ;  each  molecule  NHjC'l  dividing  into  two  mole- 
cules NHj  and  HCl,  the  gas  from  a  given  weight  of  sal- 
ammoniac  would  of  course  contain  twice  as  many  molecules 
and  occupy  twice  the  space  which  it  would  do  if  no  such 
decomposition  had  occurred.  On  this  supposition  the 
mixed  gases  would  remain  uncomblned  as  long  as  the 
temperature  was  above  the  decomposing  point  of  sal- 
ammoniac  ;  if  the  temperature  fell  below  this  point  they 


:  ^  It  ia  unportant  as  a  mattor  of  scientific  history  to  note  that  this 
.'i^^reoment  of  gas  density  and  chemical  molecular  woight  was  first 
indicated  byGay-Lussac,  who  showed  that  the  ratio  of  the  densities  of 
two  gases  stood  in  a  very  simple  arithmetical  relation  to  the  ratio  of 
their  chomicaj  egvivalents.  Avogadro  in  1811  brought  forward  his 
famous  hypothesis,  that  the  number  of  vwlcailcs  in  a  given  volume  of 
gas  ia  independent  of  the  nature  of  the  gas,  or  that  the  densities  of 
gases  (temperatdre  and  pressure  being  the  same)  are  to  one  another 
as  the  masses  of  their  molecules.  This  hypothesis  is  now  shown 
to  be  in  accordance  with  *.he  ?:inetic  theory  of  gas,  and  is  known  as 
,"  Avogiulro's  law."  See  Atcw,  Trl.  iii.  p.  40,  where  a  slight  con- 
^Tusion  haa  been  caused  by  using  the  word  "  equivalent "  Instead  of 
"molecule,"  and  by  not  sufBcientlydistlngi.Ishing  between  the  discovery 
cf  Oay-Lucsac  and  the  hypothesis  of  Avogadrt- 


would  miite  and  reproduce  sal-ammoniac.  It  was  neces- 
sary, however,  to  prove  that  this  decomposition  occirrs. 

As  has  been  shown  above  (p.  618),  the  rate  of  diffusion 
of  a  gas  depends  upon  its  density.  In  this  case  the  two 
gases  into  which  the  substance  may  be  supposed  to  break 
up  at  the  moment  of  volatilization  differ  con-siderably  in 
density  ;  we  ought,  therefore,  to  be  able  to  effect  partial 
separation  by  means  of  diffusion,  and  it  has  been  shown 
that  such  partial  separation  actually  does  occur.  Thus, 
if  we  have  hydrogen  gas  on  one  side  of  a  porous  dia- 
phragm and  volatilized  sal-ammoniac  on  the  other  side, 
we  find  after  a  time  that,  nrixed  with  the  hydrogen  on 
the  one  side,  we  have  what  we  may  for  shortness  call  sal- 
ammoniac  vapour — that  is,  a  vapour  which  when  cooled 
forms  solid  sal-ammoniac — with  an  excess  of  ammonia, 
which,  being  less  dense  than  hydrochloric  acid  gas,  has 
diffused  faster ;  while  on  the  other  side,  also  mixed  witk 
hydrogen  which  has  diffused  through  the  diaphragm,  we 
have  sal-ammoniac  vapour  with  excess  of  hydrochloric  acid, 
the  denser  and  more  slowly  diffusing  gas.  This  of  course 
proves  that>  the  decomposition  has  occurred,  but  it  does 
not  prove  that  the  vapour  of  sal-ammoniac  consists  entirely 
of  hydrochloric  acid  and  ammonia  mixed  vn\}i  one  another. 
That  this  in  fact  is  not  the  case  has  been  shown  by  an 
ingenious  experiment.  The  two  gases  were  separately 
raised  to  a  temperature  higher  than  that  at  which  sal-am- 
moniac volatilizes,  and  were  then  allowed  to  mix  in  a  vessel 
kept  at  the  same  temperature  as  the  two  gases.  In  this 
vessel  a  delicate  thermometer  was  placed,  and  it  was  found 
that  the  mixing  of  the  two  gases  was  accompanied  by  a 
small  but  very  decided  evolution  of  heat.  This  proves 
that  some  chemical  combination  takes  place,  and  that  the 
mixed  gases  must  contain  some  vapour  of  NH,C1.  More- 
over, careful  determinations  of  the  vapour  density  of  sal- 
ammoniac  prove  that  it  is  a  little  more  than  the  mean 
of  the  densities  of  ammonia  and  hydrochloric  acid  (a< 
compared  with  air  at  the  same  temperature  and  pres- 
sure, rOl  instead  of  0'9255  at  350°C.);  and  this  increase 
of  densitj'  on  nuxing  the  hot  gases  is  easily  explained  by 
supposing  that  a  small  proportion  is  in  the  condition  of 
NH^Cl,  while  the  most  of  the  gas  consists  of  separata 
NHj  and  HCl  molecules. 

In  a  similar  way  it  has  been  shown  that  the  vapour  of 
oil  of  vitriol  is  a  mixture  of  two  vapours, — that  of  water, 
H.,0,  and  that  of  sulphuric  anhydride,  SOj ;  and  that 
sulphide  of  ammonium  when  volatilized  breaks  up  into 
two  volumes  of  ammonia  and  one  of  sulphuretted  hy- 
drogen, (NH,)2S  =  2NH3  -I-  HjS.  We  find,  therefore,  that 
in  the  former  case,  as  in  that  of  sal-ammoniac,  t*  =  2m, 
and  in  the  latter,  w  =  Zm. 

This  pccnliar  kind  of  decomposition  is  now  known  by  the  nam» 
"dissociation."  (See  vol.  v.  pp.  476,  476.)  In  the  cases  we  have 
mentioned  the  substances  undergo  nearly  complete  dissociation  at 
the  temperature  at  which  they  volatilize,  and  recombination  takes 
place  when  they  are  cooled  and  again  assume  the  solid,  or,  as  ia 
the  case  of  oil  of  vitriol,  the  liquid  state.  These  substances  »r> 
therefore  not  suited  for  the  illustration  of  the  whole  course  of 
dissociation.  This  haa  been  carefully  studied  in  the  case  of  somj 
compounds,  in  which  the  dissociation  is  far  from  complete,  at  th  > 
boiling  point  of  the  substance,  with  the  result  that,  if  AH  bo  the 
compound  dissociating  into  the  separate  molecules  A  and  B,  wa 
may  represent  the  amount  of  dissociation  as  the  ratio  of  the  num- 
ber of  pairs  of  separate  A  and  B  molecules  to  the  total  number  of 
pairs  o(a  and  B,  both  separate  and  combined.  This  ratio  we  ma/ 
call  R,  so  that  when  dissociation  is  complete  R  =  \. 

(1)  R  increases  as  the  temperature  rises.  (2)  dRIdt  (where  t  b 
temperature)  is  a  maximum  when  R  =  \.  (3)  The  presence  of  exce?s 
of  cither  A  ot  B  diminishes  the  value  of  R.  For  instance,  PCI5  is 
nearly  completely  dissociated  into  PCI3  and  CI,  at  300°  C. ;  but  if  » 
iart'e  e.icess  of  PCI3  is  mixed  with  tho  vapour  it  is  found  to  contaia 
scarcely  any  CI,,  so  that  dissociation  is  greatly  diminished  by  tha 
presence  of  excess  of  PCI,.  These  experimental  results  are  capablo 
of  explanation  on  the  kinetic  theory  of  gas.  if  we  adopt  Pfaundler'? 
hypothesis.    This  is,  that  for  each  case  of  dissociation  there  is  a 


M  .O  L  — M  O  L 


i623 


limiting  value  for  the  internal  Idnetic  energy  •  of  a  molecule  of  AB. 
If  a  molecule  of  AB,  by  encounters  with  other  molecules  or  with 
the  wall  of  the  vessel  containing  the  gas,  acquires  a  greater  amount 
of  internal  kinetic  energy  than  this  Umit,  it  at  once  Dreaks  up  into 
A  and  B,  so  that  in  the  gaseous  mixtiu^  there  are  no  molecules  of 
AB  having  more  internal  kinetic  energy  than  the  limit.  Further, 
if  two  molecules,  one  of  A  and  one  of  B,  meet  one  another  with 
such  a  velocity  and  with  such  an  amount  of  intenial  kinetic  energy 
that  together  the  internal  kinetic  energy  is  less  than  the  limit,  they 
will  unite  to  form  a  molecule  of  AB.  Thus  the  molecules  with 
peat  internal  kinetic  energy  will  be  separate  molecules  of  A  and 
£ ;  those  with  small  internal  kinetic  energy  will  mostly  be  united  as 
AB.  This  hypothesis  has  been  to  a  considerable  extent  worked  out 
And  applied  by  Pfaundler  and  by  Naumann,  and  the  deductions 
from  it  agree  fairly  well  with  the  results  of  experiment ;  but  in  some 
points  the  theory  has  not  been  fully  developed,  and  in  some  it  does 
not  seem  altogether  to  accord  with  observed  facts.  Some  of  these 
difliculties  have  been  mentioned  above.  We  know  enough  of  the 
nature  of  dissociation  to  see  that  it  belongs  to  the  class  of  balana:d 
chemical  actions,  in  which  a  chemical  change  is  reversible,  and  equili- 
brium is  kept  up,  with  constant  external  conditions,  by  the  two 
opposite  chemical  changes  taking  place  to  an  equal  extent  in  a  given 
time.  We  can  see  that  all  such  cases  are  explicable  by  the  statistical 
Tiuthod,  but  we  cannot  apply  this  method  mathematically  until  we 
know  more  of  the  intimate  nature  of  the  molecules  and  of  the  way 
in  which  they  act  upon  one  another.  In  this  discussion  of  dissocia- 
tion we  have  looked  specially  at  the  cases  in  which  -4,  B,  and  AB 
are  all  gaseous,  because  it  was  the  question  of  anomalous  vapour 
densities  which  led  us  to  treat  of  the  subject.  Dissociation  also 
occurs  where  one  or  two  of  the  substances  are  solid  or  liquid. 

We  now  see  with  what  restrictions  the  method  of  vapour  density 
is  applicable  to  the  determination  of  molecular  weight,  and  we  can 
understand  more  fully  the  example  given  in  the  article  Chemistry, 
vol.  v.  p.  469.  It  is  there  shown  that  acetic  acid  vapour  does  not 
conform  to  the  laws  of  Boyle  and  Charles  until  the  temperature  is 
raised  to  about  250°,  at  the  ordinary  barometric  pressure.  At  and 
-above  that  temperature  the  vapour  density  corresponds  to  the  formula 
CjH^O^  At  lower  temperatures  the  density  corresponds  to  a  higher 
molecular  weight  Now  Playfair  and  Wanklyn  determined  the 
vapour  density  at  much  lower  temperatures  than  the  ordinary  boil- 
ing point  of  acetic  acid,  by  greatly  diminishing  the  pressure  of  the 


acetic  acid  vapour.  This  they  accomplished  by  miiing  it  with  a. 
large  quantity  of  hydrogen,  so  that  the  pressure  duo  to  acetic  acid 
vapour  formed  only  a  small  fraction  of  the  total  pressure.  The 
vapour  density  of  acetic  acid  at  the  low  temperatures  at  which  they 
worked  was  found  to  correspond  very  nearly  with  the  formula 
^4880^,.  and,  by  comparing  this  result  with  what  has  been  said 
(p.  620)  of  the  chemical  evidence  as  to  the  molecular  weight  of  acetic 
acid,  we  may  reasonably  conclude  that  the  molecule  of  acetic  acid 
at  low  temperatures  is  CjHjO,,  and  that  as  the  temperature  is  raised 
it  undergoes  dissociation,  each  molecule  dividing  into  two  of 
CjHiOj.  This  is  then  a  case  where  A  and  B  are  equal,  and  AA 
divides  ioto  A  +  A.  Another  instance  of  the  same  kind  is  probably 
to  be  found  in  peroxide  of  nitrogen  (Chemisthy,  p.  613),  where 
N3O4  divides  into  NO,  +  NOy  Similarly,  sulphur  vapour  has,  at 
temperatures  below  500°  C. ,  a  density  corresponding  to  the  formula 
Sg.  This  dissociates  as  the  temperature  rises  until,  about  1000°  C. , 
the  density  corresponds  to  the  formula  Sj  (Chemistry,  p.  498). 

We  have  now  seen  that  chemistry  receives  great  assistance  in  the 
determination  of  molecular  weight  from  physics,  but  this  assistance 
is  almost  entirely  confined  to  the  case  of  gases,  or  of  substances 
which  can  be  volatilized.  The  phenomena  of  the  diffusion  of  liquids 
show  us  that  there  also  there  are  independently  moving  particles  ; 
but  the  laws  of  liquid-diffusion  have  not  been  sufficiently  gener- 
alized to  give  us  much  help  in  the  determinarion  of  the  relative 
masses  of  these  particles.  In  liquids  it  is  probable  that  the  par- 
ticles are  very  near  each  other,  and  that  their  shape  and  theix 
mutual  action,  as  well  as  their  mass  and  the  temperature,  deter- 
mine their  rate  of  motion.  t 

In  solids  we  have  no  independently  travelling  particles,  and  it  is 
perhaps  scarcely  correct  to  speak  of  a  molecular  structure  of  solids 
at  all  Solids  are  no  doubt  composed  of  atoms,  and  those  atoms 
are  evidently  arranged  in  what  may  be  called  a  tactical  order. 
When  the  solid  is  fused  or  dissolved  or  volatilized,  it  breaks  into 
molecules,  each  repetition  of  the  pattern,  if  we  may  use  the  expres- 
sion, being  ready  to  become  an  independent  thing  under  favourable 
circumstances.  But,  while  these  potential  molecules  of  solids  can- 
not perhaps  be  properly  called  molecules  in  a  physical  sense,*  for 
chemical  purposes  we  may  call  them  so,  for  they  are  the  smallest 
portions  of  the  substance  which  fully  represent  it  chemically,  and, 
as  we  have  seen,  this  is  the  chemical  molecule,  the  quantity  which 
should  be  represented  by  the  formula.  (A.  C.  B. ) 


MOLESKIN  is  a  stout  heavy  cotton  fabric  of  leathery 
<onsistence  woven  as  a  satin  twill  on  a  strong  warp.  It 
is  finished  generally  either  as  a  bleached  white  or  as  a  slaty 
<lrab  colour,  but  occasionally  it  is  printed  in  imitation  of 
tweed  patterns.  Being  an  exceedingly  durable  and  econo- 
mical texture,  it  was  formerly  much  more  worn  by  working- 
men,  especially  outdoor  labourers,  than  is  now  the  case.  It 
is  also  used  for  gun-cases,  carriage-covers,  and  several  pur- 
]ioses  in  which  a  fabric  capable  of  resisting  rough  usage  is 
desirable. 

MOLESWORTH,  SraWnj^iAM  (1810-1855),  the  eighth 
bfironet,was  born  in  London,  2.3d  May  1810,  and  succeeded 
to  the  extensive  family  estates  in  Devon  and  Cornwall  in 
1823.  On  the  passing  of  the  Reform  Act  of  1832  he  was  re- 
"tumed  to  parliament,  though  only  twenty-two  years  old,  for 
the  eastern  division  of  the  county  of  Cornwall,  to  support  the 
ministry  of  Lord  Grey.  For  some  time  he  took  little  part 
in  the  debates  of  the  House  of  Commons;  but  in  April  1835 
he  founded,  in  conjunction  with  Mr.  Roebuck,  the  London 
lieview,  as  an  organ  of  the  politidians  known  to  the  world 
as  "  Philosophic  Radicals."  After  the  publication  of  two 
volumes  he  purchased  the  Westminster  Seeieio,  and  for  some 
time  the  united  magazines  were  edited  by  him  and  J.  S. 
Mill.  From  1837  to. 1841  Sir  "William  Molesworth  sat  for 
the  borough  of  Leeds,  and  during  those  years  acquired  con- 
siderable influence  in  the  House  of  Commons  by  his  spee«Les 
and  by  his  tact  in  presiding  over  the  select  committee  on 
Transportation.  From  1841  to  1845  he  remained  in  private 
life,  occupying  his  leisure  time  in  editing  the  works  in  Latin 
and  English  of  Thomas  Hobbes  of  Malmesbury,  a  recreation 
which  cost  him  no  less  than  JE6000.  ••  In  the  latter  year  he 


*  By  internal  kinetic  energy  is  meant  the  kinetic  energy  of  motion 
of  the  parts  of  the  molecule  relatively  to  one  another,  in  contradis- 
tinction to  the  kinetic  energy  of  motion  of  the  molecule  as  a  whole. 


was  returned  for  the  borough  of  Southwark,  and  retained 
that  seat  until  his  death.  On  his  return  to  parliament  he 
devoted  special  -  attention  to  the  condition  of  the  colonies, 
and  deUvered  many  speeches  in  favour  of  a  reduction  in 
colonial  expenditure  and  on  their  better  administration.' 
His  argtiments  on  these  questions  changed  the  opinions  of 
the  members  of  the  House  of  Commons ;  and  the  criticisms 
of  the  daily  pres.s,  aided  by  the  printing  of  his  speeches,  led 
to  the  gradual  acceptance  of  his  views  by  the  electors  at 
large.  It  was  not,  however,  imtil  many  years  afterwards  that 
he  was  allowed  full  opportunity  for  working  out  the  difficult 
problems  connected  with  the  government  of  Great  Britain. 
Office  was  conferred  upon  him  in  December  1852  by  Lord 
Aberdeen,  but  it  was  the  minor  post  of  directing  the  public 
improvements  and  crown  lands  of  his  own  country,  and  the 
chief  work  by  which  his  name  was  brought  into  prominence 
at  this  time  was  the  construction  of  the  new  Westminster 
Bridge.  At  last,  in  July  1855,  he  was  called  to  preside 
over  the  Colonial  Office,  but  unfortunately  its  duties  were 
no  sooner  entrusted  to  his  care  than  he  was  cut  off  by 
death  (22d  October  1855),  to  the  universal  regret  of  his 
countrymen,  for  he  had  lived  down  the  animosities  of  his 
youth,  and  had  attracted  to  himself  the  sympathies  of 
all  thoughtful  men.  The  influence  which  his  views  had 
acquired,  and  still  retain,  may  be  judged  from  the  fact  thav 
in  1878  the  delegates  of  the  Transvaal  Government  put 
forward,  as  the  chief  argument  for  the  withdrawal  of  the 
English  from  the  Transvaal,  the  substance  of  his  speech  on 
the  abandomnent  of  the  Orange  River  Territory  in  1854.' 
A  full  pedigree  of  the  lloliesworth  family  is  printed  in  Sir  John 
Maclean's  Trigg  Minor,  vol.  i. ;  the  titles  of  his  speeches  and  worka 


It  may  be  urged  that  the  cleavage  of  crystals  indicates  that  they 
possess  a  molecular  structure,  but  a  tactical  or  pattern-like  arrangement 
of  atoms  may  easily  be  supposed  to  present  planes  of  easier  separatioB, 
without  the  assumption  of  really  independent  molecules. 


624 


M  O  L  — M  O  L 


may  be  found  in  the  BiU.  Com'uhicnsis,  vols.  i.  and  iiL  .  The  name  of 
Sir  Willi'im  Molesworth  is  frequently  mentioned  in  the  biographies 
of  Mill,  Cobden,  Carlyie,  Grote,  and  PanizzL 

MOLFETTA,  a  city  and  seaport  of  Italy,  in  the  -province 
of  Bari,  16  miles  by  rail  nortli-nortli--west  of  Bari.  From 
the  sea  it  presents  a  fine  appearance  with  its  white  stone 
houses  and  the  remains  of  its  turreted  walla  ;  and  there  are 
several  buildings  of  considerable  pretensions.  The  castle 
was  in  the  14th  centm-y  the  prison  of  Otho,  duke  of 
Brunswick.  The  cathedral  is  dedicated  to  St  Conrad. 
Molfetta  has  weU-frequented  markets,  a  small  foreign  trade 
(6000  tons  in  1881),  and  such  industries  as  cotton  and  net 
weaving,  soap-boiling,  and  rope-spinning.  The  population 
was  26,516  in  1871. 

Molfetta  (Melficta  or  Malfitum)  was  given  by  Charles  T.  to  the 
duke  of  Termoli  in  1522,  and  during  his  lordship  it  was  grievously 
sacked  by  the  French  imder  Lautrec.  In  1631  Cesare  Gonzaga  took 
the  title  of  duke  of  Guastalla  and  prince  of  Molfetta ;  but  in  1640 
the  fief  was  sold  to  the  Spinola  family,  a'nd  in  1798  incorporated  with 
the  royal  domain.     The  bishopric  holds  directly  of  the  papal  see 

MOLIEE.E  (1622-1673),  to  give  Jean  Baptiste  PoqueUn 
the  stage  nanie  which  he  chose,  for  some  undiscovered  reason, 
to  assume,  w;-  born  in  Paris,  probably  in  January  1622. 
The  baptismal  certificate  which  is  usually,  and  almost  with 
absolute  certainty,  accepted  as  his  is  dated  15th  January 
1622,  but  it  is  not  possible  to  infer  that  he  was  born  jn 
the  day  of  his  christening.  The  exact  place  of  his  birth 
is  also  disputed,  but  it  seems  tolerably  certain  that  he  saw 
the  light  iri  a  house  of  the  Rue  St  Honors.  His  father 
was  Jean  PoqueUn,  an  upholsterer,  who,  in  1631,  succeeded 
his  ovTn  uncle  as  "valet  tapissier  de  chambre  du  roi."  The 
family  of  PoqueUn  came  from  Beauvais,  where  for  some 
centuries  they  had  been  prosperous  tradesmen.  The 
legend  of  their  Scotch  descent  seems  to  have  been  finaUy 
disproved  by  the  researches  of  M.  E.  R^v&end  du  Mesnil. 
The  mother  of  MoUere  was  Marie  Cress^ ;  and  on  his 
father's  side  he  was  connected  with  the  family  of  Mazuel, 
musicians  attached  to  the  court  of  France.  In  1632 
MoUfere  lost  his  mother ;  his  father  married  again  in  1633. 
The  father  possessed  certain  shops  in  the  covered  HaUe  de 
la  Foire,  Saint  Germain  des  Pr^s,  and  the  biographers  have 
imagined  that  Molicre  might  have  received  his  first  bent 
towards  the  stage  from  the  spectacles  offered  to  the  hoU- 
day  people  at  the  fair.  Of  his  early  education  Uttio  is 
known  ;  but  it  is  certain  that  his'  mother  possessed  a  Bible 
and  Plutarch's  Lioes,  books  whicli  an  inteUigent  child 
would  not  faU  to  study.  In  spite  of  a  persistent  tradition, 
there  is  no  reason  to  beUeve  that  the  later  education  of 
MoU6re  was  neglected.  "  II  fit  ses  humanitez  au  College 
de  Clermont,"  says  the  brief  life  of  the  comedian  pubUshed 
by  his  friend  and  fcUow-actor,  La  Grange,  in  the  edition 
of  his  works  printed  'in  1682.  La  Grange  adds  that 
MoUire  "  eut  I'advantage  de  suivr.e  M.  le  Prince  de  Conti 
dans  toutes  ses  classes."  As  Conti  was  seven  years 
younger  than  MoUire,  it  is  not  easy  to  understand  how 
MoUere  came  to  be  the  school  contemporary  of  the  prince. 
Among  more  serious  studies  the  Jesuit  fathers  encouraged 
their  pupils  to  take  part  in  ballets,  and  in  later  life 
MoU6re  was  a  distinguished  master  of  this  sort  of  enter- 
tainment. According  to  Grimarest,  the  first  writer  who 
published  a  Ufe  of  MoU6re  in  any  detail  (1705),  he  not 
only  acquired  "  his  humanities,"  but  finished  liis  "  philo- 
sophy "  in  five  years.  Ho  left  the  College  do  Clermont  in 
1641,  the  year  when  Gassendi,  a  great  ccjntomner  of  Aiis- 
totle,  arrived  in  Paris.  The  Logic  and  Hl/iics  of  Aristotle, 
with  Iiis  Physics  and  Metaphysics,  were  the  chief  philoso- 
phical toxt-books  at  the  CoU(ige  de  Clermont.  But  when 
he  became  the  pupil  of  Gassendi  (in  company  with  Cyrano 
de  Bcrgerac,  ChapeUo,  and  Hesnaut),  Moliire  was  taught 
to  appreciate  the  atomic  philosophy  as  taught  by  Lucretius. 
There  seems  no  doubt  that  MoUiro  began,  and  almost  or 


qmte  finished,  a  translation  of  the  De  Natura  Ecrum. 
According  to  a  manuscript  note  of  TraUage,  pubUshed  by 
M.  Paul  LacroLx,  the  manuscript  was  sold  by  MoU^re's 
widoY/  to  a  bookseller.  His  philosophic  studies  left  a  deep 
mark  on  the  genius  of  MoUfere.  In  the  Jugemait  de  Pluton 
sur  les  deux  Parties  des  A'ouveaux  Dialogues  dcs  Moris 
(1G84),  the  verdict  is  "que  MoUere  ne  parleroit  point  de 
Philosophie."  To  "  talk  philosophy"  was  a  favourite  exer- 
cise of  his  during  his  Ufe,  and  his  ideas  are  indicated  with 
sufiScient  clearness  in  several  of  his  plays.  There  seems 
no  connexion  between  them  and  the  opinions  of  "  Moliero 
lo  Critique  "  in  a  dialogue  of  that  name,  pubUshed  in  Hol- 
land in  1709.  From  his  study  of  philosophy,  too,  he 
gained  his  knowledge  of  the  ways  of  contemporary  pedants, 
— of  Pancrace  the  AristoteUan,  of  Marphorius  the  Carte- 
sian, of  Trissotin,  "qui  s'attache  pour  I'ordre  au  Peripa- 
t(5tisme ",  of  Philaminte,  who  loves  Platonism,  of  Belise, 
who  reUshes  "les  petits  corps,"  and  Armande,  who  loves 
"les  tombiUons."  Grimarest  has  an  amusing  anecdote 
of  a  controversy  in  which  Molifere,  defending  Descartes, 
chose  a  lay-brother  of  a  begging  order  for  umpire,  while 
Chapelle  appealed  to  the  same  expert  in  favour  of  Gassendi. 
His  college  education  over,  MoUere  studied  law,  and  there 
is  even  evidence — that  of  tradition  in  Grimarest,  and 
of  Le  Boulanger  de  Chalussay,  the  libellous  author  of  a 
play  caUed  Elomire  Hypochondre — to  prove  that  he  w?.s 
actuaUy  called  to  the  bar.  More  trustworthy  is  the  pass- 
ing remark  in  La  Grange's  short  biography  (1682),  "  w, 
soi-iir  des  ecoles  de  droit,  il  choisit  la  profession  de  come- 
dien."  Before  joining  a  troop  of  haU-amate'ir  comedian^-, 
however,  MoUere  had  some  experience  in  his  father's  busi- 
ness. In  1637  his  father  had. obtained  for  him  the  right 
to  succeed  to  his  own  ofiice  as  "valet  tapissier  de  chambre 
du  roi."  The  document  is  mentioned  in  the  inventory  of 
MoUfere's  effects,  taken  after  his  death.  When  the  king 
traveUed  the  valet  tapissier  accompanied  him  to  arrange 
the  furnitiu-e  of  the  royal  -quarters.  There  is  very  good 
reason  to  beUeve  (Loiseleur,  Points  Obscui-s,  p.  94)  that 
MoUfere  accompanied  Louis  XIII.  as  his  valet  tapissier  to 
Provence  iu  1642.  It  is  even  not  imjiossible  that  MoUere 
was  the  young  valet  de  chambre  who  concealed  Cinq  Mar.? 
just  before  his  arrest  at  Narbonne,  13th  June  1642.  But 
this  is  part  of  the  romance  rather  than  of  the  history  of 
MoUere.  Our  next  gUmpse  of  the  comedian  we  get  in  a 
document  of  6th  January  1643.  MoUfere  acknowledges 
the  receipt  of  money  due  to  him  from  his  deceased  mother's 
estate,  and  gives  up  his  claim  to  succeed  his  father  as  "  valet 
de  chambre  du  roi."  On  28th  December  of  the  same  year 
we  learn,  again  from  documentary  evidence,  that  Jean 
Baptiste  PoqueUn,  with  Joseph  Bejard,  Madeleine  Bejard, 
Genevieve  Bejard,  and  others,  have  hired  a  tennis-court, 
and  fitted  it  up  as  a  stage  for  dramatic  performances.  Tho 
company  caUed  themselves  L'lUustre  TlieStre,  illucire  being 
then  almost  a  slang  word,  very  freely  employed  by  the 
writers  of  the  period. 

We  now  reach  a  very  important  point  in  tho  private 
history  of  MoUire,  v/hich  it  is  necessary  to  discuss  at  some 
length  in  defence  of  the  much  maligned  character  of  a 
great  writer  and  a  good  man.  MoUere's  connection  with 
tlie  family  of  Bejard  brought  him  much  unhappiness. 
Tho  father  of  this  family,  Joseph  Bi^jard  (he  elder,  was  a 
needy  man  with  eleven  children  at  least.  His  wife's  name 
was  Marie  Herve.  The  most  noted  of  his  children,  com- 
panions of  Molicre,  were  Joseph,  Madeleine,  Genevieve,  and 
Armande.  Of  these,  Madeleine  was  a  woman  of  great 
talent  as  an  actress,  and  MoUirc's  friend,  or  perhaps  mis- 
tress, through  all  the  years  of  his  wanderings.  Now,  on 
14th  February  1662  (for  wo  must  here  leave  the  chrono- 
logical order  of  events),  MoUere  married  Armande  Claire 
Elisabeth  Gr&inde  Bejard.     His  enemies  at  that  time,' 


M  O  L  I  E  K  E 


625 


and  a  nvunber  of  his  biographers  in  our  own  day,  have 
attempted  to  prove  that  Armande  B6jard  was  not  the  sister, 
but  the  daughter  of  Madeleine,  and  even  that  Moliere's 
wife  may  have  been  his  own  daughter  by  Madeleine 
Bijard.  The  arguments  of  M.  Arsine  HoussayS  in  sup- 
port of  this  abominable  theory  are  based  on  reckless  and 
ignorant  confusions,  and  do  not  deserve  criticism.  But 
the  system  of  M.  Loisele'ir  is  more  serious,  and  he  goes 
no  further  than  the  idea  that  Madeleine  was  the  mother 
of  Armande.  This,  certainly,  was  the  opinion  of  tradition, 
an  opinion  based  on  the  slanders  of  Montfleury,  a  rival  of 
Moliere's,  on  the  authority  of  the  spiteful  and  anonymous 
author  of  La  Fameiite  Comedienne  (1688),  and  on  the 
no  less  libellous  play,  £lomiri  Sypochondre.  In  1821 
tradition  received  a  shock,  for  Beflfara  then  discovered 
Moliere's  "acte  do  mariage,"  in  which  Armande,  the  bride, 
is  spoken  of  as  the  sister  of  Madeleine  B^jard,  by  the  same 
father  and  mother.  The  old  scandal,  or  part  of  it,  was 
revived  by  M.  Foumier  and  M.  Bazin,  but  received  another 
blow  in  1863.  M.  Soulie  then  discovered  a  legal  document 
of  10th  March  1643,  in  which  the  widow  of  Joseph  B^jard 
renounced,  in  the  name  of  herself  and  her  children,  his 
inheritance,  chiefly  a  collection  of  unpaid  bills.  Now  in 
this  document  all  the  children  are  described  as  minors,  and 
among  them  is  "  une  petite  non  encore  baptisee."  This  little 
girl,  still  not  christened  in  March  1643,  is  universally 
recognized  as  the  Armande  B^jard  afterwards  married  by 
Molifere.  We  reach  this  point,  then,  that  when  Armande 
was  an  infant  she  was  acknowledged  as  the  sister,  not  as  the 
daughter,  of  Madeleine  B^jard.  M.  Loiseleur  refuses,  how- 
ever, to  accept  this  evidence.  Madeleine,  says  he,  had 
already  become  the  mother,  in  1638,  of  a  daughter  by 
Esprit  Raymond  de  Moirmoron,  comte  de  Modtoe,  and 
chamberlain  of  Gaston  due  d'Orl^ns,  brother  of  Louis 
XIIL  In  1642  Modine,  who  had  been  exiled  for  political 
reasons,  "was  certain  to  return,  for  EicheUeu  had  just 
died,  and  Louis  XIIL  was  likely  to  follow  him."  Now 
Madeleine  was  again — this  is  M.  Loiseleur's  hypothesis — 
about  to  become  a  mother,  and  }i  Modine  returned,  and 
learned  this  fact,  he  would  not  continue  the  liaison,  still 
less  would  he  marry  her, — which,  by  the  way,  he  could  not 
do,  as  his  wife  was  still  alive.  Madeleine,  therefore, 
induced  her  mother  to  acknowledge  the  little  girl  as  her 
own  child.  In  the  first  place,  all  this  is  pure  unsupported 
hypothesis.  In  the  second  place,  it  has  always  been  denied 
that  B^jard's  wife  could  have  been  a  mother  in  1643,  owing 
to  her  advanced  age,  probably  fifty-three.  But  M.  Loise- 
leur himself  says  that  Marie  Herve  was  young  enough  to 
make  the  story  "  suflBciently  probable."  If  it  was  probable, 
much  more  was  it  possible.  M.  Loiseleur  supports  his 
contention  by  pointing  out  that  two  of  the  other  childien, 
described  as  legally  minors,  were  over  twenty-five,  and  that 
their  age  was  understated  to  make  the  account  of  Armande's 
birth  more  probable.  Nothing  is  less  likely  than  that 
Mod^ne  would  have  consulted  this  document  to  ascertain 
the  truth  about  the  parentage  of  Armande,  yet  M.  Loise 
leur's  whole  theory  rests  on  that  extreme  improbability. 
It  must  also  be  observed  that  the  date  of  the  birth  of 
Joseph  B^jard  is  unknown,  and  he  may  have  been,  and 
according  to  M.  Jal  (Dictionnaire  Critique,  p.  178)  must 
have  been,  a  minor  when  he  was  so  described  in  the  do:u- 
taent  of  10th  March  1643,  while  Madeleine  had  only  parsed 
her  twenty-fifth  birthday,  her  legal  majority,  by  iwo  months; 
This  tiew  of  Joseph's  age  is  supported  by  Bouquet  (Jloliere 
A  Rouen,  p.  77).  M.  Loi3bieiU''3  only  other  proof  is  that 
Marie  Herv^  gave  Armande  a  respectable  dowry,  and  that, 
as  we  do  not  know  whence  the  money  came,  it  must  have 
come  from  Madeleine.  The  tradition  in  Grimarest,  which 
makes  Madeleine  behave  en  femme  furieiise,  when  she  heard 
of  the  marriage,  is  based  on  a  juster  appreciation  oi,  the 

1&— 23 


character  of  women.  It  will  be  admitted,  probably,  that 
the  reasons  for  supposing  that  Moliire  espoused  the  daughter 
of  a  woman  who  had  been  his  mistress  (if  she  had  been  his 
mistress)  are  flimsy  and  inadequate.  The  affair  of  the 
dowry  is  insisted  on  by  M.  Livet  {La  Fameuse  Comedienne, 
reprint  of  1877,  p.  143).  But  M.  Livet  explains  the  dowry 
by  the  hypothesis  that  Armande  was  the  daughter  of 
Madeleine  and  the  comte  de  Mod^ne,  which  exactly  con- 
tradicts the  theory  of  M.  Loiseleur,  and  is  itself  contra- 
dieted  by  dates,  at  least  as  imderstood  by  M.  Loiseleur. 
Such  are  the  conjectures  by  which  the  foul  calumnies  of 
Moliere's  enemies  are  supported  in  the  essays  of  modern 
French  critics. 

To  return  to  the  order  of  events,  Molifere  passed  the 
year  1643  in  playing  with,  and  helping  to  manage,  the 
Theatre  Illustre.  The  company  acted  in  various  tennis- 
courts,  with  very  litlje  success.  Moliire  was  actually 
arrested  by  the  tradesman  who  supplied  candles,  and  the 
company  had  to  borrow  money  from  one  Aubrey  to  release 
their  leader  from  the  Grand  Chatelet  (13th  August  1645). 
The  process  of  turning  a  tennis-court  into  a  theatre  was 
somewhat  expensive,  even  though  no  seats  were  provided 
in  the  pit.  The  troupe  was  for  a  short  time  under  the 
protection  of  the  due  d'Orl^ans,  but  his  favours  were  not 
lucrative.  The  due  de"  Guise,  according  to  some  verses 
printed  in  1646,  made  Molifere  a  present  of  his  cast-ofif 
wardrobe.  But  costume  was  not  enough  to  draw  the 
public  to  the  tennis-co\irt  theatre  of  the  Croix  Noire, 
and  empty  houses  at  last  obliged  the  Th^tre  Illustre  to 
leave  Paris  at  the  end  of -1646. 

"Nul  animal  vivant  n'entia  dans  notre  salle,"  says  the 
author  of  the  scurrilous  play  on  Molifeie,  Slomire  Uypo- 
chondre.  But  at  that  time  some  dozen  travelling  companies 
found  means  to  exist  in  the  provinces,  and  Moliire  deter- 
mined to  play  among  the  rural  towns.  The  career  of  a 
strolling  player  is  much  the  same  at  all  times  and  in  all 
countries.  The  Roman  Comique  of  Scarron  gives  a  vivid 
picture  of  the  adventures  and  misadventures,  the  difficulty 
of  transport,  the  queer  cavalcade  of  horses,  ruules,  and 
lumbering  carts  that  drag  the  wardrobe  and  properties, 
the  sudden  metamorphosis  of  the  tennis-court,  where  the 
balls  have  just  been  rattling,  into  a  stage,  the  quarrels  with 
local  squires,  the  disturbed  nights  in  crowded  country  inns, 
all  the  loves  and  wars  of  a  troupe  on  the  march.  Perrault 
tells  us.  what  the  arrangements  of  the  theatre  were  in 
Moliere's  early  time.  Tapestries  wsfe  hung  round  the 
stage,  and  entrances  and  exits  were  made  by  struggling 
through  the  heavy  curtains,  which  often  knocked  aS  the 
hat  of  the  comedian,  or  gave  a  strange  cock  to  the  helmet 
of  a  warrior  or  a  god.  The  lights  were  candles  stuck  in 
tin  sconces  at  the  back  and  sides,  but  luxury  sometimes 
went  so  far  that  a  chandelier  of  four  candles  was  suspended 
from  the  roof.  At  intervab  the  candles  were  let  do^m  by 
a  rope  and  pulley,  and  any  one  within  easy  reach  snuSed 
them  with  his  fingers.  A  flute  and  tambour,  or  two 
fiddlers,  supplied  the  music.  The  highest  prices  were  paid 
for  seats  in  the  dedans  (cost  of  admission  fivepence) ;  for 
the  privilege  of  standing  up  in  the  pit  twopence-halfpenny 
was  the  charge.  The  doors  were  opened  at  one  o'clock, 
the  curtain  rose  at  two. 

The  nominal  director  of  the  Th^dtre  Illustre  in  ths 
provinces  was  Du  Fresne ;  the  most  noted  actors  were 
Moliere,  the  Bejards,  and  Du  Pare,  called  Gros  Ren^.  I» 
is  extremely  difficult  to  follow  exactly  the  line  of  march  of 
the  company.  They  played  at  Bordeau.x,  for  example,  but 
the  date  of  this  performance,  when  Moliire  (according  to 
Montesquieu)  failed  in  tragedy  and  was  pelted,  is  variously- 
given  as  1644-45  (TraUage),  1647  (Loiseleur),  1648-58 
(Lacroii).  Perhaps  the  theatre  prospered  better  eUs- 
where  than  in  Paris,  where  the  streets  were  barricaded  in 


026 


M  O  L  I  E  R  E 


tncsc  early  days  ot  tlie  war  of  the  Fronde.  <Vo  find 
Moliere  at  Nantes  in  1C4S,  at  Fontenay-lc-Com;,>to,  and 
in  tlie  spring  of  1G49  at  Agen,  Toulouse,  and  probably  at 
Angouliinio  and  Limoges.  In  January  IGOO  they  played 
at  Narbonno,  and  between  1G50  and  1G53  Lyons  was  the 
headquarters  of  the  troupe.  In  January  1G53,  or  perhaps 
IGf).'),  Moliere  gave  L'Elourdi  at.  Lyons,  the  fir.it  of  his 
finished  pieces,  as  contrasted  with  the  slight  farces  with 
which  he  generally  diverted  a  country  audience.  It  would 
be  interesting  to  have  the  precise  date  of  this  piece,  but 
La  Grange  (1GS2)  says  that  "in  1G53  Molifere  went  to 
Lyons,  where  ho  gave  his  first  comedy,  L'litourdi,"  while 
in  his  Ueijistre  La  Grange  enters  the  year  as  1655.  At 
Lyons  De  Brio  and  his  wife,  the  famous  Mile,  de  Erie, 
entered  the  troupe,  and  Du  Pare  married  marquise  de  Gorla, 
better  known  as  Jllle.  du  Pare.  The  libellous  author  of 
La  Fameuse  Comedienne  reports  that  Sfolifere's  heart  was 
the  shuttlecock  of  the  beautiful  Du  Pare  and  De  Brie,  and 
the  tradition  has  a  persistent  life.  Moliure's  own  opinion 
t)f  the  ladies  and  men  of  his  company  may  be  read  be- 
tween the  lines  of  his  Impromptu  de  Versailles.  In  1653 
.Prince  de  Conti,  after  many  political  adventures,  was 
(residing  at  La  Grange,  near  Pezenas,  in  Languedoc,  and 
'chance  brought  him  into  relations  with  his  old  school- 
fellow Moliere.  Conti  had  for  first  gentleman  of  his  bed- 
cliamber  the  abbiS  Daniel  de  Cosnac,  whose  memoirs  now 
ithrow  light  for  a  moment  on  the  fortunes  of  the  wander- 
ing troupe.  Cosnac  engaged  the  company  "  of  Molifere  and 
'of  La  Bejart;"  but  another  company,  that  of  Cormier,  nearly 
intercepted  the  favour  of  the  prince.  Thanks  to  the  resolu- 
tion of  Cosnac,  Moliere  was  given  one  chance  of  appearing 
on  tiie  private  theatre  of  La  Grange.  The  e.xcellence  of 
Lis  acting,  the  splendour  of  the  costumes,  and  the  insist- 
ence of  Cosnac,  and  of  Sarrasin,  Conti's  secretary,  gained 
the  day  for  Moliere,  and  a  pension  was  assigned  to  his 
company  (Cosnac,  Memoires,  i.  128,  Paris,  1852).  As 
Cosnac  proposed  to  pay  Moliere  a  thousand  crowns  of  his 
|own  money  to  recompense  him  in  case  he 'was  supplanted 
Iby  Cormiei',  it  is  obvious  that  his  profession  had  become 
sufficiently  lucrative.  In  1654,  during  the  session  of  the 
estates  of  Languedoc,  Jloliire  and  his  company  played  at 
Iilontpellier.  Hero  Moliere  danced  in  a  ballet  (Le  Ballet 
<les  Incompatibles)  in  which  a  number  of  men  of  rank  took 
part,  according  to  the  fashion  of  the  time.  Moliere's  own 
7-6les  were  those  of  the  Poet  and  the  Fishwife.  The  sport 
ot  the  little  piece  is  to  introduce  opposite  characters, 
dancing  and  singing  together.  Silence  dances  with  six 
women.  Truth  wlJi  four  courtiers.  Money  witli  a  poet, 
and  so  forth.  Wliether  tlie  ballet,  or  any  parts  of  it,  are 
by  Moliere,  is  still  disputed  (La  Jennesse  de  Moliere,  suiiie 
till  Ballet  des  Incompatibles,  P.  L.  Jacob,  Paris,  1858).  In 
April  1G55  it  is  certain  that  the  troupe  was  at  Lyons, 
wliere  they  met  and  hospitably  entertained  a  profligate 
buffoon,  Cliarlcs  d'Assoucy,  who  informs  the  ages  that 
Moliere  kept  open  house,  and  "vne  table  lien  (/arnie." 
November  1655  found  Moliere  at  Pdzenas,  where  the 
estates  of  Languedoc  were  convened,  and  where  local 
tradition  points  out  the  barber's  chair  in  which  the  poet 
used  to  sit  and  stu<ly  character.  The  longest  of  j\Ioli6re's 
extant  E'ltographs  is  a  receipt,  dated  at  Pezenas,  4th  Feb- 
ruary 1G5G,  for  6000  livres,  granted  by  the  estates  of 
Languedoc.  Tlii."  year  was  notable  for  the  earliest  repre- 
fentation,  at  Eezieri,  oJ  >foliire's  second  finished  comedy, 
the  Dcpit  Amoureux.  Conti  riow  v.-:lhdre\ir  to  Paris,  and 
began  to  "make  his  soul,"  as  the  Insh  soy.  Almost  liis 
first  act  of  penitence  was  to  discard  i\Io!iire'i;  troupe  (1057), 
which  consequently  found  that  the  liberality  of  iko  estates 
of  Languedoc  was  dried  up  for  ever.  Conti's  relations 
with  Moliere  must  have  defin'lively  cbscd  long  before  IGCG, 
v/ben  the  now  pious  prince  jjot;  a  treatise  cjrainst  the 


stage,  and  Especially  cnarged  Lis  old  schoolfellow  iritJi 
keeping  a  new  school,  a  school  of  atheism  {Traite  de  la 
Comidie,  p.  24,  Paris,  1G66).  Moliere  was  now  (1657) 
independent  of  princes  r.nd  their  favour.  He  went  on  a 
new  circuit  to  Nismes,  Orange,  and  Avignon,  Avhere  he  met 
another  old  class-mate,  Chapelle,  and  also  encountered  tl!e 
friend  of  his  later  life,  the  painter  Mignard.  After  a  later 
stay  at  Lyons,  ending  with  a  piece  given  for  the  benefit 
of  the  poor  on  .27th  February  1658,  Moliere  passed  to 
Grenoble,  returned  to  Lyons,  and  is  next  found  in  Rouen, 
where,  we  should  have  said,  the  The.';tre  Illustre  had  played 
in  1643  (F.  Bouquet,  La  Tronpe  da  Moliere  ch  liouen, 
p.  90,  Paris,  1880).  At  Rouen  Moliere  must  have  made 
or  renewed  the  acquaintance  of  Pierre  and  Thomas  Cor- 
neille.  His  company  had  played  pieces  by  Corneille  at 
Lyons  and  elsewhere.  The  real  business  of  the  comedian 
in  Rouen  was  to  prepare  his  return  to  Paris.  "After 
several  secret  journeys  thither  he  was  fortunate  enough  to 
secure  the  patronage  of  Monsieur,  the  king's  only  brother, 
who  granted  him  his  protection,  and  permitted  the  company 
to  take  his  name,  presenting  them  as  Lis  servants  to  tlie 
king  and  the  queen-mother"  (Preface  to  La  Grange's 
edition  of  1682).  The  troupe  appeared  for  the  first  time 
before  Louis  XIV.  in  a  theatre  arranged  in  the  old  Louvre 
(24th  October  1658). 

Jlolifere  was  now  thirty-six  years  of  age.  He  had  gained 
all  the  experience  that  fifteen  years  of  practice  could  give. 
He  had  seen  men  and  cities,  and  noted  all  the  humours  ot 
rural  and  civic  France.  He  was  at  the  head  of  a  company 
which,  as  La  Grange,  his  friend  and  comrade,  says,  '"  sin- 
cerely loved  him."  He  had  the  unlucrative  patronage  of 
a  great  prince  to  back  him,  and  the  jealousy  ot  all  play- 
wrights, and  of  the  old  theatres  of  the  Hotel  de  Bourgogne 
and  tlie  Marais,  to  contend  against.  In  this  .struggle  we 
can  follow  him  by  aid  of  the  Rcgistre  of  La  Grange  (a 
brief  diary  of  receipts  and  payments),  and  by  the  help  of 
notices  in  the  rhymed  chronicles  of  Loret. 

The  first  appearance  of  Moliere  before  the  king  was  all 
but  a  failure.  Nicomede,  by  the  elder  Corneille,  was  the 
piece,  and  we  may  believe  that  the  actors  of  the  Hotel  da 
Bourgogne,  who  were  present,  found  much  to  criticize. 
^\Tien  the  play  was  over,  Moliere  came  forward  and  asked 
the  king's  jiermission  to  act  "one  of  the  little  pieces  with 
which  Le  Lad  been  used  to  regale  the  provinces."  The 
Dodeiir  Amourctix,  one  of  several  slight  comedies  admitting 
of  much  "gag,"  was  then  performed,  and  "diverted  as 
much  as  it  surprised  the  audience."  The  king  commanded 
that  the  troupe  shoiJd  establish  itself  in  Paris  (Preface,  ed. 
1682).  The  theatre  assigned  to  the  company  was  a  «a//« 
in  the  Petit  Bourbon,  in  a  line  with  the  jiresent  Rue  du 
Louvre.  Some  Italian  players  already  occupied  the  hou.so 
on  Tuesdays,  Fridays,  and  Sundays ;  the  comjiany  of 
^Moliere  jilayed  on  the  other  days.  The  first  piece  played 
in  the  new  house  (3d  Nov.  1658)  was  L'Ltourdi.  La 
Grange  says  the  comedy  had  a  great  success,  producing 
seventy  pistoles  for  each  actor.  The  success  is  admitted 
even  by  the  spiteful  author  of  £lomire  N^iocliondre  (Paris, 

'  "Jo  jouii  I'Etourdi,  qui  fiit  unc  mervcillo." 

The  success,  however,  is  attributed  to  tLe  farcical  element 
in  the  i>lay  and  the  acting — the  cuckoo  cry  of  Molifere's 
detractors.  The  original  of  L'Btovrdi  is  the  Itarian  comedy 
(1G29)  L'Inameriito,  by  Nicol6  Barbieri  detto  Bcltrame; 
Moliere  pushed  lather  far  his  right  to  "take  his  own 
wherever  Le  found  it."  Had  he  wri'ten  nothing  more 
original,  the  contemporary  critic  of  X  j'cs'in  de  Picm 
might  have  said,  not -untruly,  that  ho  J.nly  excelled  in 
steahng  pieces  from  the  Italians.  The  piece  is  conventional ; 
the  stock  characters  of  the  prodigal  son,  the  impudent 
valet,  the  old  father  occupy  the  stage.     But  the  dia'ogua. 


M  O  L  I  E  R  J: 


en 


las  amazing  rapidity,  and  the  vivacity  of  M.  Coquclin  in 
JMascarille  still  makes  L'£'tourdi  a  favomite  on  the  stage, 
(though  it  cannot  be  read  with  very  much  pleasure.  The 
next  piece,  new  in  Paris,  though  not  in  the  provinces,  was 
the  Dcpit  Amoureiix  (first  acted  at  Beziers,  1G5G).  The 
play  was  not  less  successful  than  L'Eicmrdi.  It  has  two 
parts,  one  an  Italian  imbroglio;  the  other,  which  alone 
keeps  the  stage,  is  the  original  work  of  Moliire,  though,  of 
course,  the  idea  of  amanilum  irss  is  as  old  as  literature. 
"Nothing  so  good,"  says  Mr.  Saintsbury,  "had  yet  been 
seen  on  the  French  stage,  as  the  quarrels  and  reconciliations 
of  the  quartette  of  master,  mistress,  valet,  and  soubrette." 
Even  the  hostUe  Le  Boulanger  de  Chalussay  {Elomire 
Hypochondre)  admits  that  the  audience  was  much  of  this 
opinion — 

"  Et  do  tons  les  c6tes  chacon  cria  tout  haut, 

'  C'est  la  faire  et  jouer  lea  pieces  comme  il  faut." "  \ 

The  same  praise  was  given,  perhaps  even  more  deservedly,  to 
Lea Prideuses Ridicules {X^t^i  November  1659).  Doubtshave 
been  raised  as  to  whether  this  famous  piece,  the  first  true 
comic  satire  of  contemporary  foibles  on  the  French  stage, 
was  a  new  play.  La  Grange  calls  it  piece  nouvelle  in  his 
Seffisire,  but,  as  he  enters  it  as  the  third  piece  nouvelle, 
he  may  only  mean  that,  like  L'JEtourdi,  it  was  new  to 
Paris.  The  short  life  of  1682,  produced  under  La  Grange's 
care,  and  probably  written  by  Marcel  the  actor,  says  the 
Precieuses  was  "  made  "  in  1659.  There  is  another  contro- 
versy as  to  whether  the  ladies  of  the  Hotel  Rambouillet, 
or  merely  their  bourgeoises  and  rastic  imitators,  were  laughed 
at.  Manage,  in  later  years  at  least,  professed  to  recognize  an 
attack  on  the  over-refinement  and  aifectation  of  the  original 
and,  in  most  ways,  honoxu-able  precieuses  of  the  Hotel  Ram- 
bouillet. But  Chapelle  and  Bachaumont  had  discovered 
provincial  precieuses,  hyper-a^sthetic  literary  ladies,  at  Mont- 
pellier  before  Moheru's  return  to  Paris  ;  and  Furctifcre, 
in  the  Soman  Bourgeois  (1666),  found  Paris  full  of  middle- 
class  precieuses,  who  had  survived,  or,  like  their  modem 
counterparts,  had  thriven  on  ridicule.  Another  question 
is — Did  Moliire  copy  from  the  earlier  Precieuses  of  the 
abb^  de  Pure  t  This  charge  of  plagiarism  is  brought  by 
Soniaize,  in  the  preface  to  his  Veriiables  Precieuses.  De 
Pure'o  work  was  a  novel  (1656),  from  which  the  Italian 
actors  had  put  together  an  acting  piece  in  their  manner, 
that  is,  a  thing  of  "gag,"  and  improvized  speeches.  The 
reproach  is  interesting  only  because  it  proves  how  early 
Moliiro  found  enemies  who,  like  Thomas  Corneille  in  1659, 
accused  him  of  being  skilled  only  in  farce,  or,  like  Somaize, 
charged  him  with  literary  larceny.  These  were  the  stock 
criticisms  of  Moliere's  opponents  as  long  as  he  lived.  The 
success  of  the  Precieuses  Pidicnles  was  immense ;  on  one 
famous  occasion  the  king  was  a  spectator,  leaning  against 
the  great  chair  of  the  dying  Cardinal  Mazarin.  The  play 
can  never  cease  to  please  while  literary  affectation  exists, 
and  it  has  a  comic  force  of  deathless  energy.  Yet  a  modern 
reader  may  spare  some  sympathy  for  the  poor  heroines, 
,who  do  not  wish,  in  courtship,  to  "begin  vrith  marriage," 
^but  prefer  first  to  have  some  less  formidable  acquaintance 
.with  tlieir  wooers.  Moliere's  next  piece  was  less  important, 
and  more  purely  farcical,  Sganarelle ;  ou  le  Cocu  Imagin- 
JniVe  (2Sth  May  1660).  The  public  taste  preferred  a  work 
of  this  light  nature,  and  Sganarelle  was  played  every  year 
as  long  as  Molitre  lived.  The  play  was  pirated  by  a  man 
who  pretended  to  have  retained  all  the  words  in  his  memory. 
The  counterfeit  copy  was  published  by  Ribou,  a  double 
injury  to  Molifere,  as,  once  printed,  any  company  might  act 
the  play.  With  his  habitual  good-nature,  Molifere  not  only 
allowed  Ribou  to  publish  later  works  of  his,  but  actually 
lent  money  to  that  knave  (Souli6,  Recherches,  p.  287). 

On  11th  October  1660  the  Theatre  du  Petit  Bourbon 
iiras  demolished  by  the  superintendent  of  works,  without 


notice  given  to  the  company.  The  king  gavo  Moliere  the 
Salle  du  Palais  Royal,  but  the  machinery  of  the  old  theatre 
was  mahciously  destroyed.  Meanwhile  the  older  companies 
of  the  Marais  and  the  Hotel  de  Bourgogne  attempted  to 
lure  away  MoUere's  troupe,  but,  as  La  Grange  declares 
(Pegisire,  p.  26),  "all  the  actors  loved  their  chief,  v/ho 
united  to  extraordinary  genius  an  honourable  character 
and  charming  manner,  which  compelled  them  all  to  protest 
that  they  would  never  leave  him,  but  always  share  his  for- 
tunes." AVhile  the  new  theatre  was  being  put  in  order, 
the  company  played  in  the  houses  of  the  great,  and  before 
the  king  at  the  Louvre.  In  their  new  house  (originally 
built  by  Richelieu)  Moliire  began  to  play  on  20tii  January 
1661.  Molifere  now  gratified  his  rivals  by  a  failure.  Don 
Garcie  de  Navarre,  a  heavy  tragi-comedy,  which  had  long 
lain  among  his  papers,  was  first  represented  on  4  th  February 
1661.  Either  Molifere  was  a  poor  actor  outside  comedy, 
or  his  manner  was  not  sufficiently  "stagy,"  and,  as  he 
says,  "  demoniac,"  for  the  taste  of  the  day.  His  opponents 
were  determined  that  he  could  not  act  in  tragi-comedy,  and 
he,  in  turn,  burlesqued  their  pretentious  and  exaggerated 
manner  in  a  later  piece.  In  the  Precieuses  (sc.  ix.)  Moliere 
had  already  rallied  "  les  gi'ands  comedicns  "  of  the  Hotel 
Bourgogne.  "  Les  autres,"  he  makes  ilascarille  say  about 
his  own  troupe,  "  sont  des  ignorants  qui  r^citent  comma 
Ton  parle,  ils  ne  savent  pas  faire  ronfler  les  vers."  All  this 
was  likely  to  irritate  the  grands  comediens,  and  their  friends, 
who  avenged  themselves  on  that  unfortunate  jealous  prince, 
Don  Garcie  de  Navarre.  The  subject  of  this  unsuccessful 
drama  is  one  of  many  examples  which  show  how  Moliere's 
mind  was  engaged  with  the  serious  or  comic  aspects  of 
jealousy,  a  passion  which  he  had  soon  cause  to  know  most 
intimately.  Meantime  the  everyday  life  of  the  stage  went 
on,  and  the  doorkeeper  of  the  Theatre  St.  Germain  was 
woimded  by  some  revellers  who  tried  to  force  their  way 
into  the  house  (I^a  Grange,  Eegistre).  A  year  later,  an 
Italian  actor  was  stabbed  in  front  of  Moliere's  house,  where  ■ 
be  had  sought  to  take  shelter  (Campardou,  Kouvelles  Pieces,^ 
p.  20).  To  these  dangers  actors  were  peculiarly  subject ; 
Moliere  himself  was  frequently  threatened  by  the  marquises 
and  others  whose  class  lie  ridiculed  on  the  stage,  and  there 
seems  even  reason  to  believe  that  there  is  some  truth  in 
the  story  of  the  angry  marquis  who  rubbed  the  poels  head' 
against  his  buttons,  thereby  cutting  his  face  severely.  The 
story  comes  late  (1725)  into  his  biography,  but  is  supported 
by  a  passage  in  the  contemporary  play,  Zeliinle  (Paris, 
1663,  scene  viii.).  Before  Easter,  Moliere  asked  for  two 
shares  in  the  profits  of  his  company,  one  for  himself,  and 
one  for  his  vnie,  if  he  married.  That  fatal  step  was  already 
contemplated  (La  Grange).  On  24th  June  he  brought 
out  for  the  first  time  L'Hcole  des  Maris.  The  general  idea 
of  the  piece  is  as  old  as  Menandcr,  and  Moliere  was 
promptly  accused  of  pilfering  from  the  Adclphi  of  Terence. 
One  of  th.%  ficelles  of  the  comedy  is  borrowed  from  a  story, 
as  old,  at  least,  as  Boccaccio,  and  still  amusing  in  a  novel 
by  Charles  de  Bernard.  It  is  significant  of  Moliere's  talent 
that  the  grotesque  and  bafllcd  paternal  wooer,  Sganarelle, 
like  several  other  butts  in  Moliere's  comedy,  does  to  a 
certain  extent  win  our  sympathy  and  ]>ity  as  well  as  our 
laughter.  The  next  new  piece  was  Les  Faschevjr,  a  comklie- 
ballet,  the  Comedy  of  Bores,  played  before  the  king  at 
Fouquet's  house  at  Vaux  le  Vicomte  (August  15-20,  1661). 
The  comedians,  without  knowing  it,  were  perhaps  the  real 
"  fascheux  "  on  this  occasion,  for  Fouquet  was  absorbed  in 
the  schemes  of  his  insatiable  ambition  {Quo  non  asceudam  ? 
says  his  motto),  and  the  king  was  organizing  the  arrest 
and  fall  of  Fouquet,  his  rival  in  the  affections  of  La 
Valliere.  The  author  of  the  prologue  to  Les  Fascheux, 
Pellisson,  a  friend  of  Fouquet's,  was  arrested  along  with 
the  superlatcndent  of  fmanc.e.    Fellisson's  prologue  an4 


628 


M  OL  I  E  R  E 


■name  were  retained  in  later  editions.  In  the  dedication 
to  the  king  Moliere  says  that  Louis  suggested  one  scene 
(that  of  tlie  Sportsman),  and  in  another  place  he  mentions 
that  the  piece  was  ^vl'itten,  rehearsed,  and.  played  in  a 
fortnight.  The  fundamental  idea  of  the  play,  the  inter- 
ruptions by  bores,  is  suggested  by  a  satire  of  Regnier's, 
and  that  by  a  satire  of  Horace.  Perhaps  it  may  have  been 
the  acknowledged  suggestions  of  the  king  which  made 
gossips  declare  that  iloliire  habitually  worked  up  hints 
and  mcniotVcs.  given  him  by  persons  of  quality  {Nouvelhs 
NouvcUes,  1663). 

In  February  1662  Moliere  married  Armande  B^jard. 
The  date  is  given  thus  in  the  Eegistre  of  La  Grange : 
"  JIardy  14,  Lea  Visignnaires,  L'liicol  des  M. 

Part.  Visite  chez  M°  d'Equeuilly." 
And  on  the  margin  he  has  painted  a  blue  circle,  Ms  way  of 
recording  a  happy  event,  with  the  words,  "  mariage  de  M. 
de  Moliere  au  sortir  de  la  Visite."  !M.  Loiseleur  gives  the 
date  in  one  passage  as  29th  February,  in  another  as  20th 
February.  But  La  Grange  elsewhere  mentions  the  date 
as  "Shrove  Tuesday,"  which  was,  it  seems,  l-tth  February. 
Elsewhere  M.  Loiseleur  makes  the  date  of  the  marriage  a 
vague  day  "  in  January."  The  truth  is  that  the  marriage 
contract  is  dated  23d  January  1662  (Soulie,  Doctiments,  p. 
203).  Where  it  is  so  difficult  to  establish  the  date  of  the 
marriage,  a  simple  fact,  it  must  be  infinitely  harder  to  dis- 
cover the  truth  as  to  the  conduct  of  Madame  Moliere.  The 
abominable  assertions  of  the  anonymous  libel,  Les  Intrigues 
de  Moliere  et  celles  de  sa  Femme;  ou  la  Fameuse  Comedienne 
( 1 6SS),  have  found  their  way  into  tradition,  and  are  accepted 
by  many  biographers.  But  M.  Livet  and  M.  Bazin  have 
proved  that  the  alleged  lovers  of  JMadame  Moliere  were 
actually  absent  from  France,  or  from  the  court,  at  the 
time  when  they  are  reported,  in  the  libel,  to  have  conquered 
her  heart.  A  conversation  between  Chapelle  and  Moliere, 
in  which  the  comedian  is  made  to  tell  the  story  of  his 
^  wrongs,  is  plainly  a  mere  fiction,  and  is  answered  in 
Grimarest  by  another  dialogue  between  Moliere  and  Eohault, 
in  which  Moliere  only  complains  of  a  jealousy  which  he 
knows  to  be  unfounded.  It  is  noticed,  too,  that  the  con- 
temporary assailants  of  Moliere  counted  him  among  jealous, 
but  not  among  deceived,  husbands.  The  hideous  accusation 
brought  by  the  actor  ilontfleury,  that  Moliere  had  married 
his  own  daughter,  Louis  XIV.  answered  by  becoming  the 
godfather  of  Moliere's  child.  The  king,  indeed,  was  a 
firm  friend  of  the  acto;-,  and,  when  Moliere  was  accused  of 
impiety  on  the  production  of  Don  Juan  (1665),  Louis  gave 
him  a  pension.  We  need  not  try  to  make  Madame  Moliere 
a  oertu,  as  French  ladies  of  the  th-  atre  say,  but  it  is  certain 
that  the  charges  against  her  a'-e  unsubstantiated.  It  is 
generally  thouglit  that  Molitro  drew  her  portrait  in  Le 
Boxirgeois  Gentilhomme,  acte  iii.  sc.  ix.,  "  elle  est  capri- 
cieuse,  mais  on  souflVe  tout  des  Belles." 

From  1662  onwards  Jloliire  suffered  the  increasing 
hatred  of  his  rival  actors.  La  Grange  mentions  the  visit 
of  Floridor  and  JMontfleury  to  the  queen-mother,  and 
their  attempt  to  obtain  equal  favour,  "  la  troupe  de  Jloliere 
leur  donnant  bcaucoup  do  jalouzie"  (12th  August  1662). 
On  26th  December  was  played  for  the  first  time  the 
admirable  £mle  des  Femmes,  which  provoked  a  literary 
war,  and  caused  a  shower  of  "  paper  bullets  of  tlie  brain." 
The  innocence  of  Agnes  was  called  indecency ;  the  sermon 
of  Arnolphe  was  a  deliberate  attack  on  Christian  mysteries. 
We  have  not  the  space  to  discuss  the  religious  ideas  of 
JIoli6re  ;  but  both  in  Vtlcole  des  Fcmmes  and  in  Don  Juan. 
ho  docs  display  a  bold  contempt  for  the  creed  of  "  boiling 
chaldrons"  and  of  a  physical  hell.  A  brief  list  of  tlie 
plays  and  pamplilets  provoked  by  L']J!cole  des  Feimnes  is  all 
we  can  offer  in  this  place. 
December  26,  1662.— .&o7<!  da  Fcmmcs. 


febriury  9,  1663. — ycuvcUa  KouvelL^  by  Dc  Vise.  MoliJre  ia 
accused  of  pilfering,  from  iStraparola. 

June  1,  1660. — Jloliere's  own  piece,  CrUiqiu  de  TEcole  des 
Femmcs.  In  this  play  Moliure  retorts  on  the  critics,  and  especially 
on  his  favourite  butt,  the  critical  marquis. 

August  16G3. — Zilinde,  a  play  by  J)e  Vise,  is  printed.  '  The  scene 
is  in  the  shop  of  a  seller  of  lace,  where  persons  of  quality  meet,  and 
attack  the  reputation  of  "ilomu-e,"  that  is,  MoUere.  He  steals 
from  tlie  Italian,  the  Spanish,  from  Furetiere's  Francion^  *'  il  Ut  tous 
lc-3  vieux  bouquius,"  lie  insults  the  nohlessc,  he  insults  Ciu'istianity, 
and  50  foi-th. 

November  17,  1G63. — Portrait  dii  Pcintrc  is  printed, — an  attack 
on  Uoliere  by  Boursault.  This  piece  is  a  detailed  criticism,  by 
several  persons,  of  L'£coh  des  Fcmmcs.  It  is  pronounced  duD, 
vulgar,  farcical,  obscene,  and  (what  chiefly  vexed  Moliere,  who  knew 
the  danger  of  the  accusation)  impious.  Perhaps  the  only  biogi-aph- 
ical  matter  we  gain  from  Boursault's  play  is  tho  hitercsting  fact 
that  Jloliere  was  a  tennis-plaj-er.  On  4th  November  1063  Moliere 
replied  with  L' Impromptu  dc  Versailles,  a  witty  and  merciless 
attack  on  his  critics,  in  which  Boursault  was  mentioned  by  name. 
The  actors  of  the  H6tel  de  Bourgogne  were  parodied  on  the  stage, 
and  their  art  was  ridicided. 

The  next  scones  in  this  comedy  of  comedians  were  : — 

NovembcrSO. — ThuPanlgyriquc  del' J&colc  des  Fcmmcs,  byKobinet. 

December  7. — Itepoiise  a  VImpromptu;  ou  la  Veiigcaiicc  des  Mar- 
quis,  by  De  Vise. 

January  19,  1664. — VImpromptu  de  VHdtel  de , Condi.  It  is  a 
reply  by  a  son  of  Montflcury.  ^ 

March  17,  1664. — La  Guerre  Comiquc;  oa  Defense  de  TEcole  des 
Fcmmcs. 

,    1664. — Letlre  sur  Ics  .Affaires  du  TlUitre,  published  in  Divcrsitd 
Galantes,  by  the  author  of  Zdlinde. 

In  all  those  quarrels  the  influence  of  Corneille  was 
opposed  to  Moliere,  while  his  cause  was  espoused  by 
Boileau,  a  useful  ally,  when  "  les  comediens  et  les  auteurs, 
depuis  le  cidre  [Corneille  ?]  jusqu'k  I'hysope,  sont  enable- 
ment animes  contre  lui"  {Impromptu  de  Versailles,  scene  v.). 

Jloliere's  next  piece  was  Le  Mariage  Force  (loth  Feb- 
ruary 166-1),  a  farce  wth  a  ballet.  The  comic  character 
of  the  reluctant  bridegroom  excites  contemptuous  pity, 
as  weU  as  laughter.  From  the  end  of  April  till  22d  May 
the  troupe  was  at  Versailles,  acting  among  the  picturesque 
pleasm'es  of  that  great  festival  of  the  king's.  The  Prineesse 
(Ci'lide  was  acted  for  the  first  time,  and  the  three  first 
acts  of  Tartu fe  were  given.  Moliere's  natural  hatred  of 
hypocrisy  had  not  been  diminished  by  the  charges  of  blas- 
phemy ^vhich  were  showered  on  him  after  the  Fcole  dea 
Femmes.  Tartuffe  made  enemies  everj-where.  Jansenists 
and  Jesuits,  like  the  two  marquises  in  L' Impromptu  de 
Versailles,  each  thought  the  others  were  armed  at.  Five 
years  passed  before  Jlolitre  got  permission  to  jjlay  the 
whole  piece  in  public.  In  the  interval  it  was  acted  before 
jMadame,  Condc,  tlie  legate,  and  was  frequently  read  by 
Moliere  in  private  houses.  The  Gazette  of  17th  May  1664 
(a  paper  hostile  to  Moliere)  says  that  the  king  thought  the 
piece  inimical  to  religion.  Louis  was  not  at  that  time 
on  good  terras  with  the  devols,  whom  his  amours  scandal- 
ized; but,  not  impossibly,  the  queen-mother  (then  suffering 
from  her  fatal  malady)  disliked  the  play.  A  most  violent 
attack  on  Moliere,  "  that  demon  clad  in  human  flesh,"  was 
■\viitten  by  one  Pierre  PiOuUe  (Le  lioi/  Glorieux  au  Monde, 
Paris,  1664).  This  fierce  pamphlet  was  suppressed,  but 
the  king's  own  co])y,  in  red  morocco  with  the  royal  arms, 
remains  to  testify  to  tho  bigotiy  of  the  author,  who  was 
cur6  of  Saint  PHarthiJIcmy.  According  to  Eoulld,  Moliere 
deserved  to  be  sent  through  earthly  to  eternal  fires.  Tho 
play  was  prohibited,  as  .we  have  seen,  but  in  August  1665 
the  king  adopted  Moliere's  troupe  as  his  servants,  and  gave 
them  tho  title  of  "troupe  du  roy."  This,  however,  did  not 
cause  Moliere  to  relax  his  efforts  to  obtain  permission  for 
Tartu  fe  (or  Tartv/e,  or  Tartvjie,  as  it  was  variously  spelled), 
and  his  perseverance  was  at  loiiglli  successfuL  That  his 
thoughts  were  busy  with  contcmjiorary  hyjiocrisy  is  proved 
by  certain  scenes  in  one  of  his  greatest  pieces,  tho  Fcsii.i 
dc  Pierre,  or  Don  Jtian  (15th  Febrnary  1665).  The  legei'.il 
of  Don  Juan  was  familiar  already  on  the  Spanish,  Italion, 


M  O  L  I  E  R  E 


629 


and  FfoiicTr stares,  McircrTT^iaac  rtanewthing:  terriWs 
and  roniantxr.  in  its  portrait  of  un  grand  seigneur  mauvais 
Jiomme,  modem  inils  s.-gsested  substitution  of  la  lutmanite 
for  religion,  comic,  even  among  his  comedies,  by  the  mirth- 
ful character  of  Sganarelle.  The  piece  filled  the  theatre, 
but  was  stopped,  probably-  by  authority,  after  Easter.  It 
was  not  printed  by  Jloliere,  and  even  in  16S2  the  publi- 
cation of  the  full  text  was  not  permitted.  Happily  the 
copy  of  De  la  Kegnie,  the  chief  of  -the  police,  escaped 
obliterations,  and  gave  us  the  fuU  scene  of  Don  Juan  and 
the  Beggar.  The  piece  provoked  a  virulent  criticism 
{Observations  sur  h  Fesiin  de  Pierre,  1665).  It  Is  allowed 
that  Mohere  has  some  farcical  talent,  and  is  not  unskilled 
as  a  plagiarist,  but  he  "attacks  the  interests  of  Heaven," 
"keeps  a  school  of  infidelity,"  "insults  the  king,"  "cor- 
rupts virtue,"  "oflFends  the  queen-mother,"  and  so  forth. 
Two  replies  were  published,  one  of  which  is  by  some  critics 
believed  to  show  traces  of  the  hand  of  Moli^re.  The  king's 
reply,  as  has  been  shown,  was  to  adopt  Moliere's  company 
as  his  servants,  and  to  pension  them.  L' Amour  Medecin, 
a  light  comedy,  appeared  22d  September  1665.  In  this 
piece  Moliire,  for  the  second  time,  attacked  physicians. 
'In  December  there  was  a  quarrel  with  Eacine  about  his 
play  of  Alexandre,  which  he  treacherously  transferred  to  the 
Hotel  de  Bourgogne.  June  4,  IGCG  saw  the  first  repre- 
eentation  of  that  famous  play,  Le  Misatithrope  {ou  L'Aira- 
hiliaire  Amoureux,  as  the  original  second  title  ran).  Tiis 
IJiece,  perhaps  the  masterpiece  of  Moliere,  was  more  suc- 
cessful with  the  critics,  with  the  court,  and  with  posterity 
than  >vith  the  pubUc.  The  rival  comedians  callod  it  "  a 
new  style  of  comedy,"  and  so  it  was.  The  eternal  passions 
and  sentiments  of  human  nature,  modified  by  the  influence 
of  the  utmost  refinement  of  civilization,  were  the  matter  of 
the  piece.  The  school  for  scandal  kept  by  Celimene,  with 
its  hasty  judgments  on  all  characters,  gave  the  artist  a 
,wide  canvas.  The  perpetual  strife  between  the  sensible 
optimism  of  a  kindly  man  of  the  world  (Philinte)  and  the 
soiva  indigndtio  of  a  noble  nature  soured  (Alceste)  sup- 
plies the  intellectual  action.  The  humours  of  the  joyously 
severe  CeLimijne  and  of  her  court,  especially  of  that  death- 
less minor  poet  Oronte,  supply  the  lighter  comedy.  Boileau, 
Lessing,  Goethe  have  combined  to  give  this  piece  the 
highest  rank  even  among  the  com.edies  of  Moliere.  As  to 
the  "  keys "  to  the  characters,  and  the  guesses  about  the 
original  from  whom  Alceste  was  dra\^ii,  they  are  as  value- 
less as  other  contemporary  tattle. 

A  briefer  summary  must  be  given  of  the  remaining  years 
of  the  life  of  Moliere.  The  attractions  of  Le  Misanthropic 
were  reinforced  (6th  August)  by  those  of  the  Medecin 
Malgre  Lui,  an  amusing  farce  founded  ou  an  old  fabliau. 
In  December  the  court  and  the  comedians  went  to  Saint 
Germain,  where,  among  other  diversions,  the  pieces  called 
MUicerte,  La  Pastorale  Comique  (of  which  Moliure  is  said 
to  have  destroyed  the  MS.),  and  the  charming  little  piece 
Le  Sicilien,  were  performed.  A  cold  and  fatigue  seem  to 
have  injiired  the  health  of  Jlolierc  nd  we  now  hear  of 
the  consumptive  tendency  which  was  cruelly  ridiculed  in 
jSlomire  Uypocliondre.  Moliere  was  doubtless  obliged  to 
see  too. much  of  the  distracted  or  pedantic  physicians  of  an 
age  when  medicine  was  the  battlefield  of  tradition,  super- 
stition, and  nascent  chemical  science.  On  17th  April 
1667  Eobinet,  the  rhyming  gazetteer,  says  that  the  life  of 
Moliere  was  thought  to  be  in  danger.  On  the  10th  of 
June,  however,  he  played  in  Le  Sicilien  before  the  town. 
In  the  earlier  months  of  1667  Louis  XFV.  was  \^'ith  the 
army  in  Flanders.  There  were  embascies  sent  from  the 
comedy  to  the  camp,  and  on  5th  August  it  was  apparent 
that  Moliere  had  overcome  the  royal  scruples.  Tartuffe 
was  played,  but  Lamoignon  stopped  it  after  the  first  night. 
Xa  Grange  and  La  ToviUicro  hastened  to  the  camp,  and 


got  tne  king's  promise  that  he  would' reconsider  the  matter 
on  his  return.  Moli6re's  nest  piece  (13th  January  1668) 
was  Amphitryon,  a  free — a  very  free — adaptation  from 
Plautus,  who  then  seems  to  have  engaged  his  attention, 
for  not  long  afterwards  he  again  borrowed  from  the  ancient 
writer  in  L'Avare.  There  is  a  controversy  as  to  whether 
Amphitryon  was  meant  to  ridicule  M.  de  Montespan,  the 
husband  of  the  new  mistress  of  Louis  XIV.  Michelet  has 
a  kind  of  romance  based  on  this  probably  groundless  hj-po- 
thesis.  The  king  still  saw  the  jjiece  occasionally,  after  he 
had  purged  himself  and  forsworn  sack  under  Madame  de 
Maintenon,  and  probably  neither  he  nor  that  devout  lady 
detected  any  personal  references  in  the  coarse  and  witty 
comedy.  As  usual,  Moliere  was  accused  of  plagiarizing,  this 
time  from  Eotrou,  who  had  also  imitated  Plautus.  The 
next  play  was  the  inmiortal  George  Dandin  (10th  July),  first 
played  at  a  festival  at  Versailles.  Probably  the  piece  was 
a  rapid  palimpsest  on  the  ground  of  one  of  his  old  farces, 
but  the  addition  of  these  typical  members  of  a  coimty 
family,  the  De  Sotenville,  raises  the  work  from  farce  to 
satiric  comedy.  The  story  is  borrowed  from  Boccaccio, 
but  is  of  unknown  age,  and  always  new, — Adolphus  Crosbie 
in  The  Small  House  at  Allington  being  a  kind  of  modern 
■George  Dandin.  Though  the  sad  fortunes  of  this  peasant 
with  social  ambition  do  not  fail  to  make  us  pity  him  some- 
what, it  is  being  too  refined  to  regard  George  Dandin  aa 
a  comedy  with  a  concealed  tragic  intention.  MoU6re 
must  have  been  at  work  on  L'Avare  before  George  Dandin. 
appeared,  for  the  new  comedy  after  Plautus  was  first  acted 
on  9th  September.  There  is  a  tradition  that  the  piece 
almost  failed ;  but,  if  unpopular  in  the  fii'st  year  of  its  pro-' 
duction,  it  certainly  gained  favoiu-  before  the  death  of  its 
author.  M.  de  Pourceavgnac  (17th  September  1669)  was 
first  acted  at  Chambord,  for  the  amusement  of  the  king.' 
It  is  a  rattling  farce.  The  physicians,  as  usual,  bore  the 
brunt  of  Molifere's  raillery,  some  of  which  is  still  applicable. 
Earlier  in  1669  (5th  February)  Tartuffe  was  played  at 
last,  with  extraordinary  success.  Les  Amants  Magnijiques, 
a  comedy-ballet,  was  acted  first  at  Saint  Germain  (10th 
February  1670).  The  king  might  have  been  expected  to 
dance  in  the  ballet,  but  from  Racine's  Pritannicus  (13th 
December  1669)  the  majestical  monarch  learned  that 
Nero  was  blamed  for  exhibitions  of  this  kind,  and  he  did 
not  wish  to  out^Nero  Nero.  Astrology  this  time  took  the 
place  of  medicine  as  a  butt,  but  the  satire  has  become 
obsolete,  except,  perhap'i,  in  Turkey,  where  astrology  is 
stiU  a  power.  The  Bourgeois  Geniilhomme,  too  familiar 
to  require  analysis,  was  first  played  on  23d  October  1770. 
The  lively  Fourberies  de  Scapin  "  saw  the  footlights  "  (if 
footlights  there  were)  on  24th  May  1671,  and  on  7th 
May  we  read  in  La  Grange,  "  les  Repetitions  de  Spsyche 
ont  commance."  La  Grange  says  the  theatre  was  newly 
decorated  and  fitted  with  machines.  A  "concert  of 
twelve  violins"  was  also  provided,  the  company  being 
resolute  to  have  everything  handsome  about  them.  New 
singers  were  introduced,  who  did  not  refuse  to  sing  un- 
masked on  the  stage.  Quinault  composed  the  words  for 
the  music,  which  was  by  LuUi ;  Moliere  and  Pierre  Corneille 
collaborated  in  the  dialogue  of  this  magnificent  opera, 
the  name  of  which  (Psyche)  La  Grange  eventually  learned 
how  to  spell.  The  Comtesse  d'Fscarbagnas  (2d  February 
1672)  was  anothei  piece  for  the  amusement  of  the  courtj. 
and  made  part  cf  an  entertainment  called  Le  Pallet  des 
Pallets.  In  this  play,  a  study  of  provincial  manners; 
Moliere  attacked  the  financiers  of  the  time  in  the  iJersoD 
of  M.  Harpin.  The  comedy  has  little  importance  compared 
with  Les  Fenunes  Savantes  (11th  February),  a  severer  Pre- 
cieuses,  in  which  are  satirized  the  vanity  and  affectation  of 
sciolists,  pedants,  and  the  women  who  admire  them.  The 
satire  is  never  out  of  date,  and  finds  its  modern  form  in; 


630 


M  O  L  — M  O  L 


Ze  Monde  oil  ton  s'eitnitie,  by  M.  Pailleron. '  On  the  17th 
February  Madeleine  Bejard  died,  and  was  buried  at  St 
Paul.  She  did  not  go  long  befqre  her  old  friend  or  lover, 
Jlolioro.  His  Manage  Force,  founded,  perhaps,  on  a 
famous  anecdote  of  De  Gramont,  was  played  on  8th 
July.  On  7th  August  La  Grange  notes  that  Moliere  was 
indisposed,  and  there  was  no  comedy.  Molifere's  son  died 
on  the  11th  October.  On  22d  November  the  preparations 
for  iha'  Malade  Imaginaire  were  begun.  On  10th  Feb- 
ruary 1073  the  piece  was  acted  for  the  first  time.  What 
occurred  on  17th  Februaiy  we  translate  from  the  Registre 
of  La  Grange  : — 

"This  same  day,  about  ten  o*clock  at  night,  after  the  comody, 
Itonsicur  de  ilolicre  died  in  his  house,  Rue.de  Richelieu.  He  had 
flayed  the  part  of  the  said  ilalade,  suflering  much  from  cold  and 
inflammation,  wliich  caused  a  violent  cough.  In  the  violence  of 
the  cough  ho  burst  a  vessel  in  his  body,  and  did  not  live  mora 
than  half  an  hour  or  three-quarters  after  the  bursting  of  the  vessel. 
His  body  is  buried  at  St  Joseph's,'  parish  of  St  Eustache.  There 
is  a  gravestone  raised  about  a  foot  above  the  ground." 

Mollere's  funeral  is  thus  described  in  a  letter,  paid 
to  be  by  an  eye-witness,  discovered  by  M.  Benjamin 
FiUon  :— 

"Tuesday,  21st  February,  about  nine  in  the  evening,  was  buried 
Jean  Raptiste  Poquelin  Moliirc,  tapissicr  valet  du  cJiambre,  and  a 
famous  actor.  There  was  no  procession,  except  three  ecclesiastics  ; 
four  priests  bore  the  body  in  a  v.-ooden  bier  covered  with  a  pall, 
six  children  in  blue  carried  candles  iu  silver  holders,  and  there 
were  lackeys  with  burning  torches  of  wax.  The  body  .  ,  .  was 
taken  to  St  .Joseph's  churchyard,  and  buried  at  the  foot  of  the 
crosa.  There  was  a  great  crowd,  and  some  twelve  hundred  livres 
were  distr-'buted  among  the  poor.  The  archbishop  had  given  orders 
that  Moliere  should  be  interred  without  any  ceremony,  and  had 
even  forbidden  the  clergy  of  the  diocese  to  do  any  service  for  him. 
Nevertheless  a  number  of  masses  were  commanded  to  bo  said  for 
the  deceased." 

When  an  attempt  was  made  to  exhume  the  body  of 
Moliere  in  1792,  the  wrong  tomb  appears  to  have  been 
opened.     Unknown  is  the  grave  of  Moliire. 

.  Moliere,  according  to  Mile.  Poisson,  who  had  seen  him 
in  her  extreme  youth,  was  "  neither  too  stout  nor  too  thin, 
tall  rather  than  short ;  he  had  a  noble  carriage,  a  good  leg, 
walked  slowly,  and  had  a  veiy  serious  expression.  His 
no.se  was  thick,  his  mouth  large  v/ith  thick  lips,-  his  com- 
plexion brown,  his  eyebrows  black  and  strongly  marked, 
and  it  was  his  way  of  moving  these  that  gave  him  his  comic 
expression  on  the  stage."  "  His  eyes  seemed  to  search  the 
deeps  of  men's  hearts,"  says  the  author  of  ZHmde.  The 
inventories  printed  by  M.  Soulie  provo  that  Moliere  was 
fond  of  rich  dress,  splendid  furniture,  and  old  books.  The 
charm  of  his  conversation  is  attested  by  the  names  of  his 
friends,  who  were  all  .the  wits  of  the  age,  and  the  greater 
their  genius  the  greitcr  their  love  of  Moliere.  As  an 
actor,  friends  and  enemies  agreed  in  recognizing  him  as 
most  successful  in  comedy.  His  ideas  of  tragic  declamation 
were  in  advance  of  his  time,  for  he  set  his  face  against  the 
prevalent  habit  of  ranting.  His  private  character  was 
remarkable  for  gentleness,  probity,  generosity,  and  delicacy, 
qualities  attested  not  only  by  anecdotes  but  by  the  evidence 
of  documents.  Ho  is  probably  (as  Mcnander  is  lost)  the 
greatest  of  all  comic  writei-s  within  tho  limits  of  social  and 
refined  as  distinguished  from  romantic  comedy,  like  that  of 
Shakespeare,  and  of  political  comedy,  like  that  of  Aristo- 
phanes. He  has  the  humour  which  is  but  a  sense  of  the 
true  value  of  life,  and  now  takes  the  form  of  the  most 
vivacious  wit  and  the  keenest  observation,  now  of  melan- 
choly, and  pity,  and  wonder  at  the  fortunes  of  mortal 
men.  In  the  literature  of  France  his  is  the  greatest  name, 
and  in  the  literature  of  tho  modern  drama  the  greatest 
after  that  of  Shake^ipeare.  Besides  his  contemplative  genius 
he  possessed  an  unerring  knowledge  of  the  theatre,  the 
knowledge  of  a  great  actor  and  a  great  manager,  and 
hence  his  plays  can  never  cease  to  hold  tho  stasc,  and  to 


charm,  if  possible,  even  more  in  the  pcrformaneertlian  ia 
the  reading. 

There  is  no  biography  of  Molicro  on  a  level  witli  the  latest,  re- 
searches into  his  lile.  The  best  is  probably  that  of  M.  Taschereau, 
prefixed  to  an  edition  of  his  works  (ffiiiwrcs  CompUics,  Paris,  1363). 
To  this  may  bo  added 'Jules  Loiseleur's'Zi:^  PoiiiiA  Obscurs  de  la 
Vie  de-MoW.rc,  Paris,  1S77.  .  Wo  have  seen  that  iL  Loiseleur  is 
not  always  accurate,  but  ho  is  laborious.  "For  other  books  it  is 
enough  to  recommend  the  excellent  Bibliographic  Moliercsqne  of  M. 
Paul  Lacroix  (1875),  which  is  an  all  but  faultless  guide.  The  best 
edition  of  Moli^re's  works  for  the  purposes  of  the  student  is  th.'it 
published  in  Lc3  Grands  Ecri-nir^  de  la  France  (Hachttte,  Parii, 
1874-1S82).  The  edition  is  still  incomplete.  It  contains  reprints 
of  many  contemporary  tracts,  and.  with  the  Ecgisire  of  La  Grange, 
and  the  Collection  iloliircsquc  of  II.  Lacroix,  is  the  chief  source  of 
the  facts  stated  in  this  notice,  in  cases  where  the  rarity  of  docu- 
ments has  prevented  the  writer  from  studying  them  in  the  original 
texts.  Another  valuable  autliority  is  the  JicchjrcJics  sur  MoliZrs 
ct  sur  sa  Famille  of  Ed.  Soulie  (1SS3).  Loiheisen's  Moliire,  seiTi 
Lebcn  und  sciric  Wcrlcc  (Frankfurt,  1830),  is  a  respectable  Ger- 
man compilation.  Lc  Moliiristc  (Tresse,  Paris,  edited  by  M.  Georges 
Monval)  is  a  monthly  serial,  containing  notes  on  Molifere  and  his 
plays,  by  a  number  of  contributors.  The  essay;,  biographies,  plays, 
and  poems  on  Moliere  are  extremely  numerous.  The  best  guide  to 
these  is  the  indispensable  Bibliogruphie  of  M.  LacroLx.  The  English 
biographies  are  few  and  as  a  rule  absolutely  untrustworthy.     (A.  L. ) 

MOLINA,  Lins  (1535-1600),  a  Spanish  Jesuit,  whom' 
Pascal's  Lellres  (Tun  Provincial  have  rendered  immortal, 
was  born  at  Cuenca  in  1535.  Having  at  the  age  of  eighteen 
become  a  member  of  the  Company  of  Jesus,  he  studied 
theology  at  Coimbra,  and  afterwards  became  professor  in 
the  university  of  Evora,  Portugal.  From  this  post  he 
was  called,  at  the  end  of  twenty  )'ear3,  to  the  chair  of 
moral  theology  in  Madrid,  where  he  died  on  12th  October 
1600.  Besides  other  works  he  wi-ote  Liberi  arhitrii  cum 
graiix  donis,  divina prxscientia,  providentia,  prasdesiitiatione 
et  7rprobatione,  concordia  (4to,  Lisbon,  15SS);  a  com- 
mentary on  tlu5  first  part  of  tho  Summa  of  Thomas  Aquinas 
(2  vols.,  fol.,  Cuenca,  1593);  and  a  treatise  De  Justitia  et 
Jure  (6  vols.,  1593-1609).  It  is  to  the  first  of  these  that 
his  fame  is  principally  due.  It  was  an  attempt  to  reconcile, 
in  words  at  least,  the  J^.ugustinian  doctrines  of  predestina- 
tion and  grace  with  the  Semipelagianism  which,  as  shown 
by  the  recent  condemnati6n  of  Bajus  (^r.w.),  had  become 
prevalent  in  the  Roman  Catholic  Church.  A.ssuming  that 
man  is  free  to  perform  or  not  to  perform  any  act  v.-hatever,' 
Molina  maintains  that  this  circumstance  renders  the  gi'aca 
of  God  neither  unnecessary  nor  impossible : — not  impossible,' 
for  God  never  fails  to  bestow  grace  upon  those  who  ask  it 
with  sincerity ;  and  nat  unnecessary,  for  grace,  although 
not  an  efficient,  is  stiU  a  sufficient  cause  of  .salvation.  Nor, 
in  Molina's  view,  does  his  doctrine  of  free-will  exclude 
predestination.  The  omniscient  God,  by  means  of  His 
"  scientia  media  "  (the  phrase  is  Molina's  invention,  though 
the  idea  is  also  to  be  found  in  his  older  contempoi-ary 
Fouseca),  or  power,  of  knowing  future  contingent  events, 
foresees  how  we  shall  employ  our  own  free-will  and  treat 
His  proffered  grace,  and  upon  this  foreknowledge  He  can 
found  His  predestinating  decrees.  These  doctrines,  although 
in  harmony  with  the  prevailing  feeling  of  tho  Roman 
Catholic  Church  of  the  period,  and  further  recommended 
by  their  marked  opposition  to  the  teachings  of  Luther  and 
Calvin,  excited  violent  controversy  in  some  quarters,' 
especially  on  the  part  of  the  Dominicans,  and  at  last 
rendered  it  necessary  for  the  pope  (Clement  VIII.)  to 
interfere.  At  first  (1594)  ho  simply  enjoined  silence  on 
both  parties  so  far  as  Spain  was  concerned  ;  but  ultimately,' 
in  159S,  ho  appointed  the  "Congregatiode  Auxiliis  Gratiae" 
for  the  settlement  of  the  dispute,  which  became  more  and 
more  a  party  one.  After  holding  very  numerous  sessions,, 
tho  "congregation"  was  able  to  decide  nothing,  and  in 
1607  its  meetings  were  suspended  by  Paul  V.,  win-- 
announced  his  intention  of  himself  pronouncing  judgmp"t. 
in  due  time.     He  contented  himself,  however,  in   IGll 


M  0  L  — M  0  L 


631 


yriih  prohibiting  all  further  discussion  of  the  question  "  de 
auxiliis,"  and  studious  efforts  were  made  to  control  the 
publication  even  of  commentaries  on  Aquinas.  The 
Molinist  subsequently  passed  into  the  Jansenist  controversy, 
and  it  is  as  a  champion  of  Jansenism  that  Pascal  in  the 
Provincial  Letters  attacks  Molina  and  the  scientia  media 
(see  Jansenism). 

MOLINE,  a  city  of  the  United  States,  in  Eock  Island 
county,  Illinois,  is  situated  in  a  picturesque  district  on  the 
left  bank  of  the  Mississippi,  opposite  the  upper  end  of  Rock 
Island.  First  settled  in  1832,  the  town  was  organized  as 
a  city  in  1872.  It  is  noted  for  its  water-power,  developed 
and  maintained  by  the  Government,  and  for  the  number  and 
importance  of  its  manufacturing  establishments.  By  means 
of  a  dam  nearly  a  mile  in  length,  from  the  Illinois  shore 
to  the  island,  an  almost  uniform  head  of  7  feet  of  water  is 
obtained,  which  is  used  in  driving  the  machinery  of  the 
Government  arsenal  on  the  island,  and  in  supplying  power 
to  several  factories.  Beds  of  bituminous  coal  are  mined  in 
the  neighbourhood,  and  three  lines  of  railway  pass  through 
the  city,  affording  with  the  river  ample  means  of  communi- 
cation. The  most  prominent  manufactures  are  agricultural 
implements  and  machinery  generally,  waggons,  organs, 
paper,  and  stoves.  Moline  has  nine  churches,  a  complete 
system  of  graded  free  schools,  including  a  high  school,  and 
a  free  library.  The  population  increased  from  40C6  in 
il870  to  7805  in  1880,  and  with  the  siiburbs  the  number 
is  now  estimated  at  12,000. 

MOLINOS,  Miguel  de  (1627 -c.  1696),  a  Spanish 
•priest  whose  name  is  intimately  associated  with  that  type 
of  religion  known  in  Italy  and  Spain  during  the  latter 
half  of  the  17th  century  as  Quietism,  was  born  of  good 
family  in  the  diocese  of  Saragossa,  on  21st  December  1627. 
Having  entered  the  priesthood,  he  settled  about  his  fortieth 
year  in  Rome,  where  he  speedily  rose  to  high  repute  as  a 
father  confessor,  and  gained  many  distinguished  friends, 
among  whom  were  several  cardinals,  including  Odescalchi 
(afterwards  Innocent  XI.,  1676).  In  1675  he  published  jft 
Rome  a  small  duodecimo  volume  entitled  Guida  spiriluale 
che  disinvolr/e.  I'anima  e  la  conduce  per  I'interior  camino  all' 
acquisto  delta  perfella  contemplazione  e  del  ricco  tcsoro  deila 
pace  interiore,  wliich  was  soon  afterwards  followed  by  the 
Breve  trattato  della  cottidiana  commtmione,  usually  bound 
up  with  it  in  later  editions.  The  work,  which  breathes  a 
spirit  of  simple  and  earnest  piety,  is  designed  to  show  how 
inward  peace  may  be  found  by  what  may  be  called  con- 
templative or  passive  prayer,  by  obedience,  by  frequent 
communion,  and  by  inward  mortification ;  it  was  widely 
circulated,  and  greatly  increased  the  popidarity  of  its 
author,  whom  Innocent  XI.  after  his  elevation  provided 
(•with  rooms  in  the  Vatican,  and  is  said  to  have  also  taken 
as  his  spiritual  director.  Its  doctrine  of  the  passivity  of 
the  highest  contemplation  and  purest  prayer  does  not 
appear  to  have  raised  the  slightest  discussion  until  after 
the  publication,  in  1681,  of  the  Concordia  ira  la  fatica  e 
la  tjmele  nelV  oratione,  by  the  Jesuit  preacher,  Paolo  Scgneri. 
■Although  scrupulously  refraining  from  any  mention  of 
the  name  of  Molinos,  and  indeed  displaying  considerable 
moderation  as  a  controversialist,  Segneri  by  this  tract  and 
by  another  with  which  he  followed  it  up  brought  upon 
himself  much  unpopularity;  and  so  great  did  the  excitement 
become  that  a  committee  was  at  last  appointed  by  the 
Inquisition  to  investigate  his  own  views  as  well  as  to 
examine  the  writings  of  Molinos'and  of  his  friend  Petrucci 
1  author  of  La  contemplazione  mistica  acquistata).  The 
.t:port  (1682)  was  entirely  favourable  to  the  doctrines  of  the 
\Juid<j  Spirit-uale,  the  writings  of  Segneri  being  censured 
»s  icandalous  and  heretical;  but  in  1685,  in  consequence 
ot  rfinresentations  made  to  the  pope  by  Louis  XIV.,  under 
«Sa  tfesmf  influence  of  Pcrc  La  Chaise,  botli  Petrucci  and 


Molinos  -were  laid  under  arrest,  and  the  2>apers  of  the  latter, 
including  a  voluminous  correspondence,  seized.  Pelnicci 
was  soon  afterwards  liberated,  and  relieved  from  further 
persecution  by  the  gift  of  a  cardinal's  hat ;  but,  after  Molinos 
had  languished  in  confinement  for  two  years,  suddenly  200 
persons,  many  of  them  of  high  rank,  were  also  apprehended 
by  order  of  the  Inquisition  for  what  were  then  for  the  first 
time  called  "  Quietist"  opinions.  In  1687  the  pope  signi- 
fied his  ajjproval  of  the  condemnation  pronounced  by  the 
Inquisition  on  sixty-eight  doctrines  imputed  to  Molinos. 
The  "heretic"  forthwith  "  abjured  "  these,  and  tlius  escaped 
the  flames  indeed,  but  did  not  regain  his  liberty.  Of  liis 
later  years  nothing  is  known  ;  according  to  the  most  prob- 
able accounts  he  languished  in  imprisonment  imtil  28th 
December  1696. 

The  evidence  on  which  certain  charges  of  immoralitj'  against 
Ilolinoa  were  based  is  unknown,  and  the  degree  of  his  responsibility 
for  certain  of  the  condemned  propositions  is  obscure;  but  a  penisalof 
the  Guida  Spiriluale  at  least  docs  not  disclose  to  the  candid  rea<icr 
any  reason  whcrelbre  Jloliiios  should  not  have  been  tolerat,-;d  within 
a  church  which  has  canonized  St  Theresa.  The  expknation  of  tho 
treatment  to  which  he  was  subjected  is  most  probably  to  be  souglit 
rather  in  the  negative  than  in  the  positive  .ispects  of  l>is  teaching, 
and  still  more  in  tho  passing  exigencies  of  party  politics.  As 
Tholuck  remarks,  it  was  liardly  to  be  expected  that  the  Society  of 
Jesus  should  regard  as  otherwise  than  highly  dangerous  a  man  who 
"declared  confession  and  outward  mortification  to  bo  work  only 
for  beginners,  who  himself  abstained  from  confessing  for  tu'clve' 
j'cars  on  end,  by  whose  advice  countless  monks  and  nuns  had' 
thrown  aside  chaplets,  images,  and  reliqnes,  that  they  might 
worship  God  in  the  spirit,  and  who,  moreover,  stood  well  with 
tho  fashionable  world  and  with  tho  pope  himself."  Tho  Guida 
Spiriluale  w.t3  published  in  Spanish  at  Madrid  in  1676,  and  fre- 
quently aftenvards  ;  it  was  also  translated  into  Latin  {Ma.midv.clio 
Hjiirilvalis,  Leipsic,  1687)  by  A.  H.  Francko,  tho  well-known 
German  pietist  and  philanthropist,  and  an  English  version  (The 
spiritual  guide,  which  discnlanylcs  the  sotil  and  brimjs  it  hy  the 
inward  way  to  tlic  getting  of  perfect  contemplation  and  the  rich 
treasure  of  eternal  peace ;  with  a  brief  treatise  concerning  daily 
enmmunion)  appeared  in  1688.  Tho  materials  for  a  history  of 
the  Quietist  controverey  are  very  fully  given  in  the  third  volumo 
of  Gottfried  Arnold's  KircJicn-und  Kctzcrhistorie.  See  also  Heppe, 
Ocschiehte  der  guictistischcn  Mi/stik  in  der .  Katholischcn  Kircha 
(Berlin,  1875) ;  Tholuck's  article  on  "  jMolinos "  in  Herzog's 
Jlealcncyklopadie ;  and  Bigelow,  Molinos  the  Quietist,  New  York, 
1882. 

ilOLISE,  now  Campobasso,  a  province  of  Italy,  stretch- 
ing twenty  miles  along  the  coast  of  the  Adriatic,  and 
bounded  by  the  Abruzzi  (Chieti  and  Aquila),  Terra  di 
Lavoro  (Caserta),  Benevento,  and  Capitanata  (Foggia). 
Most  of  it  lies  on  the  north-eastern  side  of  the  Apennines, 
and  is  watered  by  the  Biferno,  the  Forlone,  and  the  Trigno ; 
but  it  also  includes  the  country  on  tho  other  side  which 
contains  the  head  streams  of  the  Volturno.  About  five- 
sixths  of  the  surface  may  be  described  as  mountainous  or 
hilly,  the  loftiest  range  being  the  Matese  on  the  borders 
towards  Benevento,  with  its  highest  point  in  Jlonte 
Jliletto,  6750  feet.  Tho  population,  which  increased  from 
346,007  in  ISGl  to  365,434  in  ISSl,  is  mainly  dependent 
on  pastoral  and  agricultural  piu^suits,  neither  manufactures 
nor  trade  being  highly  developed.  According  to  the  census 
of  1871,  there  were  six  places  with  more  than  5000  inliabit- 
ants— Campobasso,  12,890;  Riccia,  8123;  Isernia,  7715; 
Agnone,7147;  Cascalende,6217;  and  Larino, 5357;  accord- 
ing to  the  census  of  1881,  21  of  the  133  communes  had  a 
population  exceeding  4000. 

The  Molise  territory  was  in  ancient  times  part  of  Iho  country  of 
the  Sabines  and  Pamnites.  Under  the  Lombards  it  was  included 
in  the  duchy  of  Benevento;  but  the  districts  of  Scpino,  Boiano* 
and  Iscmia  were  cut  off  to  form  a  domain  for  tlio  liulgaiians  who  had 
come  to  assist  King  Grimoald.  About  two  centuries  later  tliis  became 
the  countship  of  Boiano,  and  tho  name  was  soon  after  changed  to 
countshii)of  Molise,  probably  because  the  lordship  w.is  held  byUgono 
di  Molisio,  or  Molise.  Attached  under  Frederick  H.  to  tho  Terra  di 
Livoro,  and  at  a  later  date  ineoi-porated  with  Capitanata,  tho  district 
did  not  again  become  an  independent  province  till  1811.  In  1861 
it  sun'cndcred  fifteen  communes  to  Benevento,  and  received  thirteen 
from  Terra  di  Lavoro. ' 


632 


MOLLUSCA 


THE  Mollusca  form  one  of  the  great  "  phyla,"  or  sub- 
kingdoms  of  the  Animal  Pedigree  or  Ivingdom. 

Liteyary  Hidoi^  of  the  Group. — The  shell-bearing  forms 
belonging  to  this  group  which  were  known  to  Linnaeus  were 
placed  by  him  (in  1748)  in  the  third  order  of  his  class 
Vermes  under  the  name  "  Testacea,"  whih:t  tlia  Echino- 
derms,  Hydroids,_and  Annelids,  with  the  naked  Molluscs, 
formed  his  second  order,  termed  "  Zoophyta."  Ten  years 
later  he  replaced  the  name  "Zoophyta"  by  "Mollusca," 
which  was  thus  in  the  first  instance  applied,  not  to  the 
Mollusca  at  present  so  termed,  but  to  a  group  consisting 
chiefly  of  other  organisms.  Gradually,  however,  the  term 
Mollusca  became  used  to  include  those  Jlollusca  formerly 
placed  among  the  "Testacea,"  as  well  as  the  naked  iioUusca. 

It  is  important  to  observe  that  the  term  jiaXiKia,  of  which 
Mollusca  is  merely  a  Latinized  form,  was  used  by  Aristotle 
to  indicate  a  group  consisting  of  the  Cuttle-fishes  only. 

The  definite  erection  of  the  Mollusca  into  the  position 
of  one  of  the  great  primary  groups  of  the  animal  kingdom 
is  due  to  George  Cuvier  (1788-1800),  who  largely  occupied 
himself  with  the  dissection  of  representatives  of  this  type  (1).' 
An  independent  anatomical  investigation  of  the  MoUusca 
had  been  carried  on  by  the  remarkable  Neapolitan  natur- 
alist Poll  (1791),  whose  researches  (2)  were  not  published 
until  after  liis  death  (1817),  and  were  followed  by  the 
beautiful  works  of  another  Neapolitan  zoologist,  the  illus- 
trious Delle  Chiaje  (3). 

The  "  cmbranchement  "  or  sub-kingdom  Mollusca,  as  de- 
fined by  Cuvier,  included  the  following  classes  of  shell-fish  :— 
1 ,  the  cuttles  or  poulps,  under  the  name  Cephalopoda  ;  2, 
the  snails,  whelks,  and  slugs,  both  terrestrial  and  marine, 
under  the  name  Gastropoda  ;  3,  the  sea-butterflies  or 
winged-snails,  under  the  name  Ptekopoda  ;  4,  the  clams, 
mussels,  and  oysters,  under  the  name  Acephala  ;  5,  the 
lamp-shells,  under  the  name  Bp.achiopoda  ;  6,  the  sea- 
squirts  or  ascidians,  under  the  name  Nuba  ;  and  7,  the 
barnacles  and  sea-acorns,  under  the  name  Cikrhopoda. 

The  main  limitations  of  the  sub-kingdom  or  phylum 
Mollusca,  as  laid  do^vn  by  Cuvier,  and  the  chief  divisions 
thus  recognized  ivithin  its  limits  by  him,  hold  good  to  the 
present  day.  At  the  same  time,  throe  of  the  classes  con- 
sidered by  him  as  Mollusca  have  been  one  by  one  removed 
from  that  association  in  consequence  of  improved  know- 
ledge, and  one  additional  class,  incorporated  since  his  day 
with  the  Mollusca  ■with  general  approval,  has,  after  more 
than  forty  years,  been  again  detached  and  assigned  an 
independent  position  owing  to  newly-acquired  knowledge. 

The  first  of  Cuvier's  classes  to  be  removed  from  the  Iifol- 
lusca  was  that  of  the  Cirrhopoda.  Their  aflinities  with  the 
lower  Crastacea  were  recognized  by  Cuvier  and  his  contem- 
poraries, but  it  was  one  of  the  brilliant  discoveries  of  that 
remarkable  and  too-!ittle-honoured  naturalist,  J.  Vaughan 
Thompson  of  Cork,  which  decided  their  position  as  Crus- 
tacea. The  metamorphoses  of  the  Cirrhopoda  were  described 
and  figured  by  him  in  1830  in  a  very  complete  manner, 
and  the  legitimate  conclusion  as  to  their  affinities  was  for- 
mulated by  him  (4).  Thus  it  is  to  Thompson  (1630),  and 
not  to  Burmeister  (1831),  as  erroneously  stated  by  Kefer- 
stoin,  that  the  merit  of  this  discovery  belongs.  The  i.ext 
class  to  bo  removed  from  Cuvier's  Mollusca  was  that  of  the 
Nuda,  better  known  as  Tunicata.  In  1SG8  the  Russian 
embryologist  Kowalewsky  startled  the  zoological  world  with 
a  minute  account  of  the  developmental  changes  of  Ascidia, 
one  of  the  Tunicata  (5),  and  it  became  evident  that  the 


'  Theso  ngur&i  refer  to  the  biblic 
.  C9o. 


;r.)i'hy  ai  Iho  enil  of  tha  article. 


afiinities  of  that  class  were  with  tha  Yerlebrata, whilst  their 
structural  agreements  with  MoUusci  were  only  superficial. 
The  last  class  which  has  been  removed  from  the  Cuvierian 
Mollusca  is  that  of  the  Lamji-shells  or  Brachiopoda.  The 
history  of  its  dissociation  is  connected  with  that  of  tha 
class,  viz.,  the  Polyzoa  or  Bryozoa,  which  has  been  both 
added  to  and  again  removed  from  the  MoUusca  between 
Cuvier's  date  and  the  present  day.  The  name  of  J. 
Vaughan  Thompson  is  again  that  which  is  primarily  con- 
nected with  the  history  of  a  Molluscan  class.  In  1830 
he  pointed  out  that  among  the  numerous  kinds  of  "  polyps" 
at  that  time  associated  by  naturalists  with  the  Hydroids, 
there  were  many  which  had  a  pecuhar  and  more  elaborate 
type  of  organimtion,  and  for  these  he  proposed  the  name 
Polyzoa  (6).  Subsequently  (7)  they  were  termed  Bryozoa 
by  Khrenberg  (1831). 

Henri  Milne-Edwards  in  18-14  demonstrated  (8)  the  affi- 
nities of  the  Polyzoa  with  the  Molluscan  class  Brachiopoda, 
and  proposed  to  associate  the  three  classes  Brachiopoda, 
Polyzoa,  and  Tunicata  in  a  largo  group  "  MoUuscoidea,". 
coordinate  with  the  remaining  classes  of  Cuvier's  ilollusca, 
which  formed  a  group  retaining  the  name  Mollusca.  By, 
subsequent  -(vriters  the  Polyzoa  have  in  some  cases  been  kept 
opart  from  the  !Mollusca  and  classed  with  the  "  Vermes  ; " 
v/hilst  by  others  (including  the  present  writer)  they  have, 
together  with  the  Brachiopoda,  licen  regarded  as  time  Mol- 
lusca. The  recent  investigation  by  Mr.  Caldwell  (1882) 
of  the  developmental  history  of  Phoronis  (9),  together 
with  other  increase  of  knowled'.'e,  has  now,  however,  estab- 
lished the  conclusion  that  the  agreement  of  structure 
su)->posed  to'obtain  between  Polyzoa  and  true  Mollusca  is 
delusive;  and  accordingly  they,  together  with  the  Brachi- 
opoda, have  to  be  removed  from  the  Molluscan  iihyluni. 
Furtlier  details  in  regard  to  this,  the  last  revolution  in  Mol- 
luscan classification,  will  be  fouud  in  the  article  Polyzoa. 

As  thus  finally  purified  by  successive  advances  of  era- 
brj'ological  research,  the  JloUusca  are  reduced  to  tho 
Cuvierian  classes  of  Cephalopoda,  Pteropoda,  Gastropoda, 
and  Acephala.  Certain  modifications  in  the  disposition  of 
these  classes  are  naturally  enough  rendered  necessary  by, 
the  vast  accumulation  of  knowledge  as  to  the  anatomy  and 
embryology  of  the  forms  comprised  in  them  during  fifty 
years.  Foremost  amongst  those  who  have  within  that 
period  laboured  in  this  gi-oup  are  the  French  zoologists 
Henri  Milne-Edwards  (20)  and  Lacaze  Duthiers  (81),  to 
the  latter  of  whom  we  owe  the  most  accurate  dissections 
and  beautiful  illustrations  of  a  number  of  different  types. 
To  KoUiker  (23),  G  egenbaiu:  (23),  and  more  recently  Sjjengel 
(24),  amongst  German  anatomists,  wo  are  indebtod  for 
epoch-making  researches  of  the  same  kind.  In  England, 
Owen's  anatomy  of  the  Pearly  Nautilus  (10),  Hu.xley's  dis- 
cussion of  the  general  morphology  of  the  Mollusca  (11), 
and  Lanko.'^ter's  erabryological  investigations  (13),  Iiare 
aided  in  advancing  our  knowledge  of  the  gi'oup.  Two 
remarkable  works  of  a  systematic  character  dealing  with 
the  JloUusca  deserve  mention  here — the  Manual  of  ihe^ 
Mollusca  by  the  late  Dr.  S.  P.  Woodward,  a  model  of  clear, 
systematic  exposition,  and  the  cjdiaustive  treatise  on  tha 
Malacozoa  or  Wcichthiere  by  the  late  Professor  Kefcrstein, 
of  Giittingen,  publislied  as  part  of  Broun's  Classen  und 
Ordiimirten  des  Thicr-Jieic/is.  The  latter  work  is  the  most 
completely  illustrated  and  most  exhaustive  survey  of  exist- 
ing knowledge  of  a  large  division  of  the  animal  kirgdom 
whi(  h  has  ever  been  produced,  and,  whilst  forming  a  monu- 
ment to  its  lamented  author,  places  the  student  of  Mol-. 
lusciin  morpliology  in  a  peculiarly  favourable  prsition. 


M  O  L  L  U  S  G  A 


633 


Claigea  of  the  Mollusca. — The  classes  of  the  Jlollusoa 
which  we  recognue  are  as  folli-sre : — 
Phylum  MoLLtracA. 


Branch  A. — Glossophora. 


Beanoh  B.— Lipoccphala 
(  =  Acephala,  Cuvitr). 
Class  1. — Lamellibranchia 
(Syn.  Conchifera). 
£camjt>;o-— Oyster,   Mussel, 
Clam,  Cocl^le. 


Class  1. — Gastropoda. 
Br.  a. — Isoplcura. 
Examples  —  Chiton,    Neo- 
inenia. 
Br.  b. — AnisopUnra, 
Examples — Limpet,  'VVhelk, 
Snaii,  Slug. 

Class  2. — SCAIUOPODA. 

Examine— T:<MXlisae\!L 
Class  3. — Ckphalopooa. 
Br.  a. — PUropoila. 

Examples — Hyalaea,    Pnea- 
modermon. 
Br.  b. — Siphonopnda. 

Examples  —  Kautiluai  Cut- 
tles, Poulp. 
General  CItaracters  of  the  Mollusca. — The  forms  com- 
prised in  the  above  groups,  whilst  exhibiting  an  extreme 
range  of  variety  in  shape,  as  may  be  seen  on  comparing 
an  Oyster,  a  Cuttle-fish,  and  a  Sea-slug  such  as  Doris ; 
whilst  adapted,  some  to  life  on  dry  land,  others  to  the 
depths  of  the  sea,  others  to  rushing  streams  ;  whilst  capable, 
some  of  swimming,  others  of  burrowing,  crawling,  or  jump- 
ing, some,  on  the  other  hand,  fixed  and  immobile ;  some 
amongst  the  most  formidable  of  carnivores,  others  feed- 
ing on  vegetable  mud,  or  on  the  minutest  of  microscopic 
organisms — yet  all  agree  in  possessing  in  common  a  very 
considerable  number  of  structural  details  which  are  not 
possessed  in  common  by  any  other  animals. 

The  structural  features  which  the  Mollusca  do  possess 
in  common  with  other  animals  belonging  to  other  great 
phyla  of  the  animal  kingdom  are  those  characteristic  of 
the  Ccelomata,  one  of  the  two  great  grades  (the  other  and 
lower  being  that  of  tha  Ccelentera)  into  which  the  higher 
animals,  or  Enterozoa  as  distinguished  from  the  Protozoa, 
are  divided  (13).  The  Enterozoa  all  commence  their  indivi- 
dual existence  as  a  single  cell  or  plastid,  which  multiplies 
itself  by  transverse  division.  Unlike  the  cells  oi  the  Proto- 
zoa, these  embryonic  cells  of  the  Enterozoa  do  not  remain  each 
like  its  neighbour  and  capable  of  independent  life,  but  pro- 
ceed to  arrange  themselves  in  two  layers,  taking  the  form 
of  a  sac.  The  cavity  of  the  two-cell-layered  sac  or  Diblas- 
tula  thus  formed  is  the  primitive  gut  or  akch-enteron. 
In  the  Coelentera,  whatever  subsequent  changes  of  shape 
the  little  sac  may  undergo  as  it  grows  up  to  be  Polyp  or 
Jelly-fish,  the  original  arch-enteron  remains  as  the  one 
cavity  pervading  all  regions  of  the  body.  In  the  Ccelomata 
the  arch-enteron  becomes  in  the  course  of  development 
divided  into  two  totally  distinct  cavities  shut  off  from  one 
another — an  axial  cavity,  the  ilet-e-steeon,  which  retains 
the  fimction  of  a  digestive  gut ;  and  a  peri-axial  cavity, 
the  CCELOM  or  body-cavity,  which  is  essentially  the  blood- 
space,  and  receives  the  nutritive  products  of  digestion  and 
the  waste  products  of  tissue-change  by  osmosis.  The 
Mollusca  agree  in  being  Cffilomate  with  the  phyla  Verte- 
hrata,  Platyhelmia  (Flat-worms),  Echinoderraa,  Appendicu- 
lata  (Insects,  Ringed-worms,  ic),  and  others, — in  fact, 
with  all  the  Enterozoa  except  the  Sponges,  Corak,  Pol>-ps, 
and  Medusa. 

In  common  with  all  other  Ccelomata,  the  Mollusca 
are  at  one  period  of  life  possessed  of  a  pkostoxiium 
or  region  in  front  of  the  mouth,  which  is  the  essential 
portion  of  the  "head,"  and  is  connected  with  the  property 
of  forward  locomotion  in  a  definite  direction  and  the  steady 
carria<,e  of  the  body  (as  opposed  to  rotation  of  the  bouy 
on  its  long  axis).  As  a  result,  the  Ccelomata,  and  with 
them  the  MouiL<<-a  pres,6i,t  (in  the  first  instance)  the  general 

16—23* 


couditicji  of  body  known  ;is  BrL.'.Ti;r.AX.  esmmstky;  the 
dorsal  is  differentiated  from  the  ventral  surface,  whibt  a 
right  and  a  left  side  similar  to,  or  rather  the  comp'emenJ.s 
of,  one  another  are  permanently  established.  In  common 
with  aU  other  Ccelomata,  the  Mollusca  have  the  mouth  and 
first  part  of  the  aUinontory  canal  which  leads  into  the 
met-enteron  formed  by  a  special  invagination  of  the  outer 
leyer  of  the  primitive  body-wall,  not  to  be  confounded  with 
that  which  often,  but  not  always,  accompanies  the  ante- 
cedent formation  of  the  arch-enteron ;  this  invagination 
is  termed  the  ST0M0D.i:crsr.  Similarly,  an  anal  aperture  is 
formed  in  connexion  with  a  special  invagination  which 
meets  the  hinder  'part  of  the  met-enteron,  and  ia  termed 

the  PB0CT0D.EtTir. 

In  common  with  many  (if  not  all)  Coslomata,  the  Mol- 
lusca are  provided  with  at  least  one  pair  of  tube-like  organs, 
which  open  each  by  one  end  into  the  coelom  or  body  c.vity, 
and  by  the  other  end  to  the  exterior,  usually  in  t.'ie  neigh- 
bourhood of  the  anus.     These  are  the  nepheidu 

Like  all  other  Ccelomata,  the  Mollusca  are  also  p'lvided 
with  enocint  groups  of  cells  forming  usually  paired  or  mediart 
growths  upon  the  walls  of  the  ccelomic  cavity,  the  cells 
being  spe-  ially  pos.-,Li3ed  of  reproductive  power,  ind  dif- 
ferentiated as  egg-celis  and  sperm-cells.  These  are  the 
gonads.  As  in  other  Ccelomata,  the  cells  of  the  jjonads 
may  escape  to  the  exterior  in  one  of  two  ways — either 
through  the  nex'hridia,  or,  on  the  other  hand,  by  special 
apertures. 

As  in  all  other  Coelomat^^  the  cells,  which  build  np 
respectively  the  primary  outer  layer  of  the  body,  the 
lining  l«yer  of  the  met-enteron,  and  the  hning  layer  of  the 
coelom,  are  multiplied  and  differentiated  in  a  variety  ofi 
ways  in  the  course  of  growth  from  the  early  embryoiiio 
condition.  Tissues  are  formed  by  the  adhesion  of  a  num-< 
bet  of  similarly  modified  cells  in  definite  tracts.  As  in  all 
Ccelomata,  there  is  a  considerable  variety  of  tissues  char^ 
acterized  by,  and  differentiated  in  relation  to,  particular 
physiological  activities  of  the  organism.  Not  only  the 
Ccelomata  but  also  many  Ccelentera  show,  in  addition  to 
the  EPITHELIA  (the  name  given  to  tissue  which  bounds  a 
free  surface,  whether  it  be  that  of  the  outer  body-wall,  of 
the  gut,  or  of  a  blood-space),  also  deeper  lying  tissues, 
of  which  the  first  to  appear  is  iiusculab  tissue,  and  tha 
second  xervous  tissue. 

The  epithelia  aie  active  in  throwing  off  their  constituent 
cells  (blood-corpuscles  from  the  wail  of  the  coelom),  or  in 
producing  secretions  (glands  of  body-wall  and  of  gut),  or 
in  forming  horny  or  calcareous  plates,  spines,  and  pro- 
cesses, known  as  cnriccLAK  proditcts  (shells  and  bristlea 
of  the  body-wall,  teeth  of  the  tongue,  gizzard,  &c.). 

In  the  ilollusca,  as  in  all  other  Ccelomata,  in  correspond- 
ence with  the  primary  bilateral  symmetry  ana  lu  relation 
to  the  special  mechanical  conditions  of  the  prostomium, 
the  nervous  tissue  which  is  in  Coelentera,  and  even  in  Flat^ 
worms,  diffused  over  the  whole  body  in  networks,  tends 
to  concentrate  in  paired  lateral  tracts,  having  a  special 
eula.-gement  in  the  prostomium.  The  earlier  plexifomi 
arrangement  is  retained  in  the  nervous  tissue  of  the  walls 
of  the  alimentary  canal  of  many  Ccelomata,  whilst  a  con- 
centration to  form  large  nerve-masses  (oa>'GLIa),  to  which 
numerous  afferent  and  efferent  fibres  are  attached,  affects 
the  nervous  ti.ssue  of  the  body-wall. 

In  all  Ccelomata,  including  Mollusca,  muscular  tisme  is 
developed  in  two  chief  layers,  one  subjacent  to  the  dcric  or 
outer  epithelium  (somatic  MCscutATtJRE),  and  a  second  sur- 
rounding the  alimentary  canal  (spi,a>xhnic  MCscaLATtTRE). 
Thus,  primarily,  in  Ccelomata  the  body  has  the  character  of 
two  muicular  sacs  or  tubes,  placed  one  ■nifhin  the  other 
and  separated  from  one  another  by  the  ca-lomic  space. 
The  somatic  musctilature  is  the  more  cojiious  and  develops 


G34 


M  0  L  L  U  S  C  A 


[schematic  MOIXTJSa' 


very  generally  an  outer  circular  layer  (i.e.,  a  layer  in  which 
the  muscular  fibres  run  in  a  di'-'^ction  transverse  to  the 
lenj;  axis  of  the  body)  and  a  deeper  longitudinal  layer ; 
to  these  oblique  and  radiating  fibres  may  be  added.  The 
splanchnic  musculature,  though  more  delicate,  exhibits  a 
circular  layer  nearer  the  enteric  epithelium,  and  a  longi- 
tudinal layer  nearer  the  coslomic  surface. 

In  Coclomata  and  in  many  Coclentera  there  arc  found 
distributed  between  the  tracts  of  muscular  tissue,  bounding 
them  and  giving  strength  and  consistency  also  to  the  walls 
of  the  body,  of  the  alimentary  canal,  of  the  ccelom,  and  of 
the  various  organs  and  tissue-masses  (such  as  nerve-centres, 
gonads,  itc.)  concocted  with  these,  tracts  of  tissue  the 
function  of  which  is  skeletal.  The  skeletal  tjssite  of 
MoUusca,  in  common  with  that  of  other  Ccelomata,  exhibits 
a  wide  range  of  minute  structure,  and  is  of  differing  density 
in  various  parts ;  it  may  be  fibrous,  membranous,  or  carti- 
laginous. The  Hollusca,  in  common  v-ith  the  other  Ccelo- 
mata, exhibit  a  rcniarl;able  kind  of  association  between  the 
various  forms  of  skeletal  tissue  and  the  epithelium  which 
lines  the  coelom.ic  cavity.  Tlie  ccelomie  cavity  contains  a 
liquid  which  is  albuminous  in  chemical  composition  (blood- 
lymph  or  h.emolymph),  apd  into  this  liquid  cells  are  shed 
from  the  coelomic  epithelium.  They  float  therein  and  are 
known  as  blood  corpuscles  or  l\"MPH  corpuscles.  The 
coslomic  space  with  its  contained  hiemolymph  is  not  usually 
in  Ccelomata,  and  is  not  in  MoUusca,  a  simple  even-walled 
cavity,  but  is  broken  up  into  numerous  passages  and  re- 
cesses by  the  outgro'wths,  both  of  the  alimentary  canal  and 
of  its  own  walls.  By  the  adhesion  of  its  opposite  walls, 
and  by  an  irregularity  in  the  process  of  increase  of  its  area 
during  growth,  the  ccelom  becomes  to  a  very  large  extent  a 
spongy  system  of  intercommunicatiug  LACUN.B  or  irregular 
spaces,  filled  with  the  coelomic  fluid.  At  the  same  time,  the 
coelomic  space  has  a  tendency  to  push  its  way  in  tlic  form  of 
narrow canalsand  sinuses  between  the  layersof  skeletal  tisaue, 
and  thus  to  permeate  together  with  the  skeletal  tissue  in 
tlie  form  of  a  spongy,  or  it  may  be  a  tubular,  network  all 
the  apparently  solid  portions  of  the  animal  body.  This 
association  of  the  nutritive  and  skeletal  functions  is  accom- 
panied by  a  complete  identity  of  the  tissues  concerned  in 
these  functions.  Not  only  is  there  complete  gradation 
from  one  variety  of  skeletal  tissue  to  another  (e.g.,  from 
membranous  to  fibrous,  and  from  fibrous  to  cartilaginous) 
even  in  respect  of  the  form  of  the  cells  and  their  intercellular 
substance,  but  the  cffilomic  epithelium,  and  consequently 
the  haimolj'mph  with  its  floating  corpuscles  derived  from 
that  ei)ithelium,  is  brought  into  the  same  continuity.  The 
skeletal  and  blood-containing  and  -producing  tissues  in  fact 
form  one  widely-varying  but  continuous  whole,  which  may 
be  called  the  skeleto-trophio  system  of  tissues. 

In  many  Cffilomata  not  only  do  the  skeletal  tissues 
allow  the  coelomic  space  with  its  fluid  and  corpuscles  to 
penetrate  between  their  layers,  but  a  special  mode  of 
extension  of  that  space  is  found,  which  consists  in  the 
liollowng  out  of  the  solid  substance  of  elongated  cells 
liaving  tlie  form  of  fibres,  which  thus  become  tubular, 
and,  admitting  the  nutritive  fluid,  serve  as  channels  for 
its  distribution.  These  are  "  capillary  vessels,"  and  it  has 
yet  to  be  shown  that  such  are  formed  in  the  MoUusca. 
Larger  vessels,  however,  concerned  in  guiding  the  move- 
ment of  the  coelonuc  fluid  in  special  directions  are  very 
usually  developed  in  the  MoUusca,  as  in  other  CcEloma,ta, 
by  the  growth  of  skeletal  tissue  around  what  are  at  first 
ill-defined  extensions  of  the  ccelomie  space.  In  this  way 
a,  portion  of  the  coelomic  space  becomes  converted  into 
vessels,  whilst  a  large  part  remains  with  irregular  walls 
extending  in  every  direction  between  the  skeletal  tissues 
and  freely  communicating  with  the  system  of  vessels.  As 
•injnany  other  Ccelomata,  mascular  tissuo  grows  around 


ths  hrgest  vessel  formed  from  the  primitive  coelom,  which 
thus  becomes  a  contractile  organ  for  projjelling  the  blood- 
lymph  fluid.  This  "  he.\p.t  "  has  in  llollusca,  as  in  most 
other  Coolomata  in  which  it  is  developed,  a  dorsal  position. 
A  communication  of  the  blood-lymph  space  with  the 
exterior  by  means  of  a  pore  situated  in  the  foot  or  else- 
where has  been  very  generally  asserted  to  be  characteristic 
of  MoUusca.  It  has  Deen  maintained  that  water  is  intro- 
duced by  such  a  pore  into  the  blood,  or  admitted  into  a 
special  series  of  water-vessels.  It  has  also  been  asserted 
that  the  blood-fluid  is  expelled  by  the  JloUusca  from  these 
same  pores.  Recent  investigation  (14)  has,  however,  made 
it  probable  that  the  pores  are  the  pores  of  secreting  glands, 
and  do  not  lead  into  the  vascular  system.  There  is,  it  there- 
fore appears,  no  admission  or  expulsion  of  water  through 
such  pores  in  connexion  with  the  blood,  although  in  some 
other  Crelomata  it  is  established  that  water  is  taken  into 
the  ccelomie  space  through  a  pore  (Echinoderms),  whilst  in 
some  others  there  is  no  doubt  that  the  ccelornic  htemoljTnph 
is  occasionally  discharged  in  quantity  through  pores  of  defi- 
nite size  and  character  (Earthworm,  &c.). 

We  have  thus  seen  that  the  MoUusca  possess,  in  common 
with  the  other  Ccelomata — 1,  a  body  composed  o^a  vast 
number  of  ce/ls  or  plastids,  arranged  so  as  to  form  a  sac- 
like hody-wall,  and  within  that  a  second  sac,  the  met-enteron, 
the  wall  of  which  is  separated  from  the  first  by  a  coslom  or 
blood-lymph  space ;  2,  a  slomrA-mmi  and  a  proctodawm ; 
3,  a  prostomium,  together  with  a  differentiated  dorsal  and 
ventrcd  sarface,  and  consequently  right  and  left  sides,  i.e., 
bilateral  symmetry ;  4,  a  pair  of  nephridia  ;  5,  gonads 
developed  on  the  wall  of  the  coelom ;  6,  deric  epithelium 
(producing  horny  and  calcareous  deposits  on  its  surface), 
enteric  epithelium,  and  cielomic  epithelium ;  7,  laterally 
paired  masses  of  nerre-tissiie,  especially  large  in  the  pro- 
stomial  region  (nerve-centres  or  ganglia) ;  8,  muscular 
tissue,  forming  a  somatic  tunic  and  a  splanchiic  tunic  ;  0, 
skeleto-trophic  tissues,  consisting  of  membranous,  fibrous,  and 
cartilaginous  supporting  tissues,  and  of  blood-vessels  and  the 
walls  of  blood-spaces,  the  coelurnic  eplt/icliuin,  and  the  liquid 
tissue  known  as  hxmolympk  (commonly  blood). 

'Schematic  Mollusc. — Starting  from  this  basis  of  stractural 
features  common  to  them  and  the  rest  of  the  Cffilomata, 
we  may  now  point  out  A\hat  are  the  peculiar  developments 
of  structure  which  characterize  the  MoUusca  and  lead  to 
the  inference  tho^  they  are  members  of  one  peculiar  branch 
or  phylum  of  the  animal  pedigree.  In  attempting  thus  to 
set  forth  the  dominating  structural  attributes  of  a  great 
group  of  organisms  it  is  not  possible  to  make  use  of  arbi- 
trary definitions.  Of  JloUusca,  as  of  other  great  phyla,  it 
is  not  possible  categorically  to  enunciate  a  series  of  struc- 
tural peculiarities  which  will  be  found  to  be  true  in  refer- 
ence to  every  member  of  the  group.  We  have  to  remember 
that  the  process  of  adaptation  in  the  course  of  long  ages 
of  de\'elopment  has  removed  in  some  cases  one,  in  other 
cases  another,  of  the  original  features  characteristic  of  the 
ancestors  from  which  the  whole  group  may  be  supposed  to 
have  taken  origin,  and  that  it  is  possible  (and'  actually  is 
realized  in  fact)  that  some  organisms  may  have  lost  all  the 
primary  characteristics  of  MoUuscan  organization,  and  yet 
be  beyond  all  doubt  definitely  stamped  as  MoUusca  by 
the  retention  of  some  secondary  characteristic  which  is  so 
peculiar  as  to  prove  their  relationsliip  v.'itli  other  MoUusca. 
An  example  in  point  is  found  in  the  curious  fish-like  form 
Phyllirhoe  (fig.  5t>),  which  has  none  of  the  primaiy  char- 
acteristics of  a  Mollusc,  aiid  yet  is  indisputably  proved  to 
belong  to  the  MoUuscan  phylum  by  possesf  ing  the  peculiar 
and  elaborate  lingual  apjiaratus  present  in  one  branch  of 
the  phylum,  the  Glossophora. 

In  order  to  exhibit  concisely  the  jicculiarities  of  organi-' 
zation  which  characterize  the  MoUasc.a,  we  find  it  moa, 


SCHEilATlC  mollusc] 

convenient,  to  construct  a  schematic  Mollusc,  -which  shall 
possess  in  arj  unexaggerattd  form  the  various  structural 
arrangements  which  are  more  or  less  specialized,  exagger- 
ated, or  even  suppressed  in  particular  members  of  the  group. 
Such  a  schematic  Mollusc  is  not  to  be  regarded  aa  an  arche- 


M    0    L    L    U    ^    U    xi. 


635 


rio.  I.— Schemr.flc  Mollusc.  A.  Dorsal  aspect  B.  Ventral  aspect  C.  The 
beai-t,  pericardium,  gonads,  and  nepltridia  shown  in  positiob.  D.  The  nervous 
system ;  the  reader  is  requested  to  note  that  the  cord  passing  backwards 
from  y,ve  lies  beneath-  ani  does  not  in  any  way  unite  with  tlie  cord  which 
Jiasses  irom  g.ab  to  g.pt.  E.  Diaj^m  in  which  the  body-wall  is  represented 
Its  (;ut  ID  the  median  antero-posterior  plane,  so  as  to  show  oreads  in  position, 
— the  shell-sac  is  seen  in  section,  but  the  shell  is  omitted. 

Letters  In  all  the  figures  as  foIIOAvs  : — a,  cephalic  tentacle  ;  fc,  head  ;  c,  edge 
of  the  mantle-skirt  or  linibus  pallialis;  d,  dotted  line  indicating  the  line  or 
origin  of  the  free  mantle-skii-t  Iroin  the  sides  of  the  visceral  hump  ;  e,  outline 
of  tlie  foot  seen  through  tlie  mantle-skirt  in  A,  which  is  supposed  to  be  trans- 
prent,  allowing  the  position  of  this  and  of  the  various  parts  ;i,  (,  h,  ^  m,  to 
be  seen  through  its  substance  ;  /,  edge  of  the  shell-follicle  ;  p,  the  shell ;  A, 
the  osphradium,  paired  (.Spengel's  olfactory  organ) ;  f,  the  ctenidiuin,  paired 
<giU-pluine) ;  fc,  aperture  of  the  gonad,  paired  ;  t,  aperture  of  one  of  the  two 
Dephridia ;  m,  anus ;  n,  posterior  region  of  the  foot  reaching  farther  back 
than  the  mass  of  viscera  (dorsal  hump)  which  it  carries  ;  o,  mouth  ;  p,  plantar 
SQrface  of  the  foot ;  <j,  cut  edge  of  the  body-wall  of  the  dorsal  region ;  r, 
cceloniic  space  Cblood-lymph  space  or  body-cavity),  mostly  occupied  by  liver, 
but  to  some  extent  retained  as  blood-channels  aud  lacuniB;  «,  pericardial 
cavity ;  (,  gonad  (ovary  or  spermary),  paired  ;  «,  nephridium,  paired ;  r,  ven- 
tiiclo  of  the  he.irt  receiving  the  right  and  the  left  auricles  at  its  sides,  and 
sending  off  anteriorly  a  large  vessel,  posteriorly  a  small  one  ;  w,  the  cephalic 
eye,  paired  ;  z,  dotted  ring  to  show  the  position  occupied  by  the  esophagus 
In  relation  to  the  ner^■e  ganglia  and  cords :  y,  the  otocyst,  paired :  e.t,  the 
digestive  eland  (so-called  "  liver")  of  the  left  side  ;  s.i,  duct  of  the  digestive 
gland  of  the  riglit  side ;  g.e,  cerebral  ganglion  united  by  the  cerebnu  com- 
missure to  its  fellow :  j7.p/,  pleural  ganglion  united  by  the  cerebro-pleural 
connective  to  the  cerebral  ganglion,  and  by  the  pleuro.pedal  connective  to 
the  pedal  ganglion  ;  g.pe,  the  pedal  ganglion  united  to  its  fellow  by  the  pedal 
coniniissunj— the  two  sending  off  posteriorly  the  long  laddcr.like  pair  of  pedal 
nen-cs ;  ff.v,  the  visceral  ganglion  (of  the  left  side)  united  by  tlie  visceral 
loop  or  commissure  to  the  similar  ganglion,  on  the  right  side,  and  by  tlie 
visccro-pleural  connective  to  the  pleiu-al  ganglion  ;  g.ab,  abdominal  ganglion 
developed  on  the  course  of  the  visceral  loop  ;  g.olf,  olfactory  ganglion  placed 
near  the  osphradium  on  a  nerve  taking  its  origin  from  the  visceral  ganglion. 

type,  in  the  sense  which  has  been  attributed  to  that  word, 
nor  as  the  embodiment  of  an  idea  present  to  a  creating  mind, 
nor  even  as  an  epitome  of  developmental  laws.  Were  know- 
ledge sufficient,  wo  should  wish  to  make  this  schematic 


Mollusc  the  representation  of  the  actual  jrolluscan  ancestor 
from  which  the  various  living  forms  have  sprung.  To  defi- 
nitely claim  for  our  schematic  form  any  such  significance 
in  the  present  state  of  knowledge  would  be  premature, 
but  it  may  be  taken  as  more  or  l^-ss  coinciding  v.ith  what 
we  are  justiiied,  under  present  conditions,  in  picturing  to 
ourselves  as  the  original  Mollusc  or  archi-MoUusc  (more 
correctly  Archimalakion).  After  describing  this  schematic 
form,  we  shall  proceed  to  show  how  far  it  is  realized  or 
justified  in  each  class  and  order  of  MoUusca  successively.  ■ 

The  schematic  Mollusc  (fig.  1,  A  to  E)  is  oblong  in 
shape,  bilaterally  symmetrical,  with  strongly  differentiated 
dorsal  and  ventral  surface,  and  has  a  v/ell-marked  head,) 
consisting  of  the  prostomium  (6)  and  the  region  immeJ 
diately  behind  the  mouth.  Upon  the  head  we  place  a! 
pair  of  short  cephalic  tentacles  (a).  The  mouth  is 
placed  in  the  median  Uno  anteriorly,  and  is  overhung  by 
the  prostomium  (B,  o) ;  the  anus  is  placed  in  the  median 
lino  posteriorly,  well  raised  on  the  dorsal  surface  (A,  m)i 
The  apertures  of  a  pair  of  nepkridia  are  seen  in  tha 
neighbourhood  of  the  anus  right  and  left  (A,  I).  Neai 
the  nephridial  aperttues,  and  in  front  of  them,  right  an4 
left,  are  the  pair  of  apertures  (k)  appropriate  to  the  ductd 
of  the  GONADs^(generative  pores). 

The  most  permanent  and  distinctive  MoUuscan  organ 
is  the  FOOT  (Podium).  This  is  formed  by  an  excessive 
development  of  the  somatic  musculature  along  the  ventral 
surface,  distinctly  ceasing  at  the  region  of  the  head,  below 
which  it  suddenly  projects  as  a  powerful  muscular  piass 
(B,  p  ;  E,  p).  It  may  be  compared,  and  is  probably  genetic- 
ally identical,  wth  the  muscular  ventral  surface  of  the 
Planarians  and  with  the  suckers  of  Trematoda,  but  is  more 
extensively  developed  than  are  those  corresponding  struc- 
tures. The  muscular  tissue  of  the  foot,  and  of  all  other 
parts  of  the  body  of  all  Mollusca,  is  cellular  and  unstriated, 
as  distinguished  from  the  composite  muscular  fibre  (con- 
sisting of  cell-fusions  instead  of  separable  cells)  which 
occurs  in  Arthropoda  and  in  Vertebrata,  and  which  has 
the,  further  distinction  of  being  composed  of  alternating 
bands  of  substance  of  diflering  refractive  power  (hence 
"striated").  The  appearance  of  cross  striation  seen  in 
the  muscular  cells  of  some  Molluscs  (odontophore  of 
Haliotis,  Patella,  <tc.)  requires  further  investigation.  It 
is  by  no  means  altogether  the  same  thing  as  the  mark- 
ing characteristic  of  striated  muscular  fibre. 

Contiasting  with  the  ventral  foot  is  the  thin-walled 
dorsal  region  of  the  body,  which  may  be  termed  the  antr-| 
podial  region.  This  thin-walled  region  is  formed  by  softi 
viscera  covered  in  by  the  comparatively  delicate  and  non- 
muscular  body- wall  (fig.  1,  E).  As  the  ventral  foot  is.' 
clearly  separate  from  the  projecting  head,  so  is  this  dorsalj 
region,  and  it  is  conveniently  spoken  of  as  the  viscekalJ 
HtTMP  or  "  dome  "  (cupola).  Protecting  the  visceral  dome 
is  a  SHELL  (conchylium)  consisting  of  a  homy  basis  impreg-j 
nated  with  carbonate  of  lime,'  and  secreted  by  the  deric 
epithelium  of  this  region  of  the  body  (<?).  The  shell 
in  oui-  schematic  Mollusc  is  single,  cap-shaped,  and  sym- 
metrical. It  does  not  lie  entirely  naked  upon  the  surface 
of  the  visceral  dome,  but  is  embedded  all  round  its  margin,' 
to  a  large  extent  in  the  body-wall.  In  fact,  the  integu- 
ment of  the  visceral  dome  forms  an  open  flattened  sac 
in  which  the  shell  lies.  This  is  the  pehiaky  shell- 
sac,  or  follicle  (A  and  E,  /).  The  wall  of  the  body  pro-' 
jects  all  round  the  visceral  dome  in  the  form  of  a  flap  or, 
skirt,  so  as  to  overhang  and  conceal  to  some  extent  the' 
head  and  the  sides  of  the  foot.     This  skirt,  really  an  out-j 

'  As  to  the  minute  structure  of  the  sliell 
Carpenter's  article  "  Shell  "  in  the  Cyclop,  of  A 
limits  of  our  space  do  not  permit 
logical  topics. 


vaiious  classes,  seo 
(.  <tnd  PInisiol.    Th»' 
to  dcaJ  with  this  or  other  Lisioi 


63(i 


M  O  L  L  U  S  C  A 


[schematic  mollusc. 


growtn  of  the  dorsal  body-wall,  is  called  the  mantle-plap 

ilimbus  palUalis),  or  more  shortly  the  mantle  or  pallium; 
c).  The  space  between  the  overhanging  mantle-flap  and  the 
tides  and  neck  of  the  animal  which  it  overhangs  is  called 
the  stTC-PALLLU.  SPACE  Of  CHAMBEE.  Posteriorly  in  this 
space  are  placed  the  anus  and  the  pair  of  nephiidial  aper- 
tui'es  (see  Cg.  1,  E). 

The  development  of  the  mantle-skirt  and  Its  sub-pallial 
space  appears  to  have  a  causal  relation,  in  the  v.-ay  of  pro- 
tection, to  a  pab  of  processes  of  the  body-wall  vrhich 
spring,  one  on  the  right  and  one  on  the  left,  from  the  sides 
of  the  body,  nearer  the  anus  than  the  mouth,  and  jre 
concealed  by  the  mantle-flap  to  some  extent  (A,  B,  i). 
These  processes  have  an  axis  in  which  are  two  blood-vessels, 
and  are  beset  v.ith  two  rows  of  flattened  filaments,  like  the 
teeth  of  a  comb  in  double  series.  These  are  the  ctenidia 
or  gill-combs.  Usually,  as  v/L!l  be  seen  in  the  sequel,  they 
play  the  part  of  gills,  but  since  in  many  lIoUuscs  (Lamelli- 
branchs)  theu:  function  is  not  mainly  respiratory,  and  since 
also  other  completely-formed  gills  are  developed  as  special 
organs  in  some  Molluscs  to  the  exclusion  of  these  pro- 
cesses, it  is  well  not  to  speak  of  them  simply  as  "  gills  "  or 
"branchiie,"  but  to  give  them  a  non-physiological  name 
such  as  that  here  proposed.  Near  the  base  of  the  stem  of 
each  ctenidium  is  a  patch  of  the  epithelium  of  the  body- 
wall,  peculiarly  modified  and  supplied  with  a  special  nerve 
and  ganglion.  This  is  Spengel's  olfactory  organ,  which 
tests  the  respiratory  fluid,  and  is  persistent  in  its  position 
and  nerve -supply  throughout  the  group  MoUusca.  We 
propose  to  call  it  the  ospheadium. 

Passing  now  to  the  internal  organs,  our  schematic 
Mollusc  is  found  to  possess  an  alimentaky  cvnal,  which 
passes  from  mouth  to  anus  in  the  middle  line,  leaving 
between  it  and  the  muscular  body-wall  a  more  or  less 
spongy,  in  parts  a  spacious,  coslom.  The  stomodeeum  is 
large  and  muscular,  the  proctodicum  short ;  the  bulk  of 
the  alimentary  canal  is  therefore  developed  from  the  met- 
enteron  or  remnant  of  the  arch-enteron  after  the  coelom 
has  been  pinched  off  from  it.  A  paired  outgrowth  of  the 
met-enteron  forms  the  glandular  diverticulum  knovra  as 
the  digestive  gland  or  (co:nmcn!y)  liver  (E,  !ff,  :l). 

Dorsally  to  the  alimentary  tract  the  cixlom  is  spacious. 
The  space  (C,  E,  s)  is  termed  the  PEracARDimi,  since  it  is 
traversed  by  a  vessel  running  fore  and  aft  in  the  median 
line,  which  has  contractile  muscular  walls  and  serves  as  a 
heart  to  propel  the  ccelomic  blood-fliiid.  This  pericardial 
space,  although  apparently  derived  from  the  original  coalom, 
is  not  in  communication  with  the  other  spaces  and  blood- 
vessels derived  from  the  coelom ;  it  never  (or  perhaps  in  a 
very  few  instc  u  les)  contains  in  the  o.dult  the  MoUuscan  blood 
or  h^molymph,  and  is  always  in  free  communication  with 
the  exterior  through  the  tubes  called  vphridia  (renal 
organs).  The  eu:art  receives  symmetrically  on  each  side, 
right  and  left,  a  dilated  vessel  bringing  aerated  blood  from 
the  ctenidia.  Tliese  dilated- vessels  are  termed  the  auricUs 
of  the  heart,  whilst  the  median  portion  itself,  at  the  point 
where  these  vessels  join  it,  is  termed  the  ventricle  of  the 
licart  (C,  1').  The  vessel  passing  foro  and  aft  from  the 
ventricle  gives  off  a  few  trunks  which  open  into  spaces 
of  the  ccelom,  the  so-called  lacunae ;  these  are  excavated  in 
every  direction  between  the  viscera  and  the  various  bundles 
of  fibrous  and  muscular  tissue,  and  may  assume  more  or 
less  the  character  of  tube-liko  vessels  witli  definite  walls. 
Plight  and  left  opening  into  the  pericardial  ccelom  is  a 
coiled  tube,  the  farther  extremity  of  which  ojiens  to  the 
exterior  by  the  side  of  the  anus.  Tlicse  two  tubes  (C,  it) 
are  the  symmetrically  disposed  nephiudia  (renal  organs). 
The  coMADs  (ovaries  or  spermaries)  are  placed  in  the 
mid-dorsal  region  of  the  coelom  (C,  t),  and  have  their  own 
apertures  in  the  immcdiato  ueighboiuhood  of  those  of  Uie 


nephridia.  The  apertures  arc  paired  right  and  left,  and  so 
are  the  ducts  into  which  they  lead ;  but  at  present  wc  have 
no  ground  for  determining  whether  the  gonid  itself  was 
primarily  in  JIoUu-scs  a  paired  organ  or  a  median  organ, 
nor  have  we  any  well-founded  conception  as  to  the  nature 
of  the  ducts  when  present,  and  their  original  relationship 


i  Mollusca  (( 


.\.  or  CTiiton ;  /.(.,  flbroiM 
■eat  blood-vessel  ;  ,;./.,  later- 
C.  or  I- .^snrella  ;  letter* 


Fm.  2.— Ctenidia  of 
tissue  ;  a.h.v.t  afferent  blood-vessel , 
ally  paii-ed  lamellfe.    B.  Of  Sei'ia  ,  letters  ti 

as  iii  A.  D.  Of  Nucula;  d,  p&sitiou  of  axis  witli  bloo-i-vosscis ;  n,  inner; 
6  and  c,  outer  row  of  l.ninellx'.  E.  Of  P.i;udiua  ;  i,  Intestine  running  ranillol 
witli  tlic  axis  of  tlie  cteniJiuni  and  ending  in  the  anus  o  ;  br,  rows  of  clon^^ate 
processes  con-esjionding  to  tlm  two  series  of  iauiell.B  of  the  upper  liguies 

to  the  gonads.  The  genital  ducts  of  some  organisms  are 
modified  nephridia,  but  the  nature  of  those  of  Mollusca, 
of  Arthropoda,  of  Echinoderma,  of  Nematoidea,  and  of 
some  Vertebrata  lias  yet  to  be  elucidated. 

The  disposition  of  the  nerve-centres  is  highly  character- 
istic. There  are  four  long  cords  composed  of  both  nerve- 
fibres  and  nerve-cells  which  are  disposed  in  pairs,  two  right 
and  left  of  the  pedal  area  or  foot,  two  more  doi-sally  and 
tending  to  a  deqier  position  than  that  occupied  by  the 
pedal  cords,  so  as  to  lie  freely  within  the  culomic  space 
unattached  to  the  body-wall.  These  are  respectively  the 
PED.u,  NERVTs-conDs  and  the  ^^scERAL  nerve-cords.  The 
latter  meet  and  join  one  another  posteriorly.  A  right  and 
left  (D,  g-i),  and  a  median  abdominal  tjj.nb)  ganglion  are 
placed  on  these  cords,  and  from  them  are  given  off  the 
osphradial  nerves  which  have  special  ganglia  (;/.olf).  In  the 
region  of  the  iirostomium  the  pedal  nerve-cords  are  enlarged 
behind  the  moutli,  forming  the  pedal  ganglia  {ff./'e),  and 
are  united  by  nerve-fibres  to  one  another.  From  this  spot 
they  are  continued  forward  into  the  prostomium,  where 
they  enlarge  to  form  the  right  and  left  cerebral  ganplia  (f/.c), 
which  arc  united  to  one  another  by  nerve-fibres  in  front  of 


SCHE3IATIC  mollusc] 


MOLLUSCA 


637 


the  mouth,  just  as  the  pedal  ganglia  are  behind  it.  The 
right  and  left  pedal  ganglia  are  joined  by  transverse  cords 
to  the  right  and  left  visceral  cords  respectively,  the  point 
of  union  being  marked  on  either  side  by  a  swelling  (g.jil) 
known  as  the  pleural  ganglion.  The  visceral  nerve-cord 
can  also  be  traced  up  on  each  side  beyond  the  pleural 
ganglion  to  the  cerebral  ganglion.  Thus  we  have  a 
nearly  complete  double  nerve-ring  formed  around  the  ceso- 
phagiis  by  the  two  pairs  of  nerve-cords  which  are  in  this 
region  drawn,  as  it  were,  towards  each  other  and  away 
from  their  lateral  position  both  behind  and  before  the 
stomodzeal  invagination.  AVhilst  the  swollen  parts  of  the 
nerve-tracts  are  termed  ganglia,  the  connecting  cords 
are  conveniently  distinguished  either  as  conncdivis  or  as 
commissures.  Commissures  connect  two  ganglia  of  the 
same  pair  We  have  a  cerebral  commissure,  a  pedal  com- 
missure ard  a  visceral  commissure.  Connectives  connect 
ganglia  of  dissimilar  pairs,  and  we  speak  accordingly  of 
the  cerebro- pedal  connective,  the  cerebro- pleural  con- 
nective, the  pleuro-pedal  connective,  and  the  viscero- 
pleural  connective. 

An  ENTERIC  NERVOUS  SYSTEM  forming  a  plexus  on  tne 
walls  of  the  alimentary  canal  exists,  but  does  not  exhibit 
cords  and  ganglia  visible  to  the  naked  eye  except  in  the 
large  Dibranchiate  Cephalopods 

Our  schematic  Mollusc  is  prowded  with  certain  osOAlfS 
OF  SPECIAL  SENSE.  Tactile  organs  occur  on  the  head  in  the 
form  of  short  cephalic  tentacles,  (a).   Deeply  placed  are 


r  cliorion  :  ot\  oral  euil  of  the  blastopore ;  r,  aiul  end  of  the  blastopoi .. 
A.  Fonuatinu  of  the  Diblastula  by  the  fni'ngiuation  of  larger  cells  iQto  tlie 
area  of  Bitialler  cells  (op'-ical  section).  B.  View  of  the  same  siMjcimcn  fioin 
the  surface  of  invagination  ;  the  smaller  cells  are  seen  at  the  periphery  ;  by 
Olvlsion  they  will  inniliply  and  extend  themselves  over  the  four  lai-ger  cell! 


ci.les  with  tl: 

ond  i;toino<l.'euiu,  the  oiiii 

ofau  eujbr>-o  a  little  oldi 


of  the  foot ;  the  extremity,  or,  coincides  with  thi 

Jte  extremity,  r,  with  the  anns.    D.  Optical  section 
tbau  A.    E.  Surface  view  of  the  same  euibrj-o. 


a  pair  of  closed  vesicles  containing  each  a  calcareoiu  con-" 
cretion  and  acting  as  auditor)'  organs  ;  these  are  known  as 
ocTocYsTs  (D,  y).  They  are  situated  behind  the  mouth 
in  the  foremost  portion  of  the  foot.  At  the  base  of  each 
cephalic  tentacle  is  a  pigmented  eye-spot — the  cephalic 
eye  (D,  ic).  The  ospHRADiUM  (U),  or  peculiar  patch  of 
olfactory  epithelium  at  the  base  of  the  ctenidium,  has 
already  been  mentioned. 

To  the  scheme  thus  exhibited  of  the  possible  organization 
of  the  ancestral  Mollusc  we  shall  now  add  a  sketch  of 
the  mode  in  which  this  form  of  body  and  series  of  internal 
organs  are  developed  from  the  egg. 

The  cgg-ceU  of  MoUusca  is  either  free  from  food  material 
—a  simple  protoplasmic  corpuscle — or  charged  with  food 


material  to  a  greater  or  less  extent.     Tlioss  ciies  which 
appear  to  be  most  typical — that  is  to  say,  wliich  adhere  to  a 

A^  


Fia.  4.— Development  of  tlie  Pond-Snail,  Limntevt  stag nalis  {attar  Lankester, 
15).  r,  Hirective  coiTUscle;  bl,  blastopore;  tv,  eudoilenn  or  enteric  cell 
layer ;  ec,  ectodenn  or  dcric  cell-layer ;  r,  veluin  ;  m,  mouth ;  /,  foot ;  t,  ten- 
tacles ;  fp,  pore  in  the  foot  (belonging  to  the  pedal  gland?) ;  vi/,  the  uianllft- 
flap  or  limbus  palliaUs ;  sh,  the  shell ;  I,  the  snb-pallial  si>ace,  here  destined 
to  become  the  lung.  A.  First  four  cells  resulting  from  the  cleavage  of  the 
original  egg-cell.  B.  Side  view  of  the  same.  C.  Diblastula  stage  (see  Sg.  3X 
showing  tlie  two  cell-layera  and  the  blastopore.  D,  E.  F.  Trochosphere 
stage,  D  older  than  E  or  F.  G.  Three-quarter  view  of  a  Diblastula,  to  show 
the  orifice  of  invagination  of  the  endodenrt  or  blastopore,  bl.  H,  I.  VelJger 
stage  later  than  D.    (Compare  fig.  70  and  fig.  72*'*). 

procedure  which  was  probably  common  at  one  time  to  all 

then  existing  MoUusca,  and  which  has  been  departed  from 

A  B  ^...r:^:^       0 


Fio.  5.— Early  stages  of  dinsion  of  the  fertilized  egR-cell  in  Xcssa  wttcihau 
(from  ball.-ur.  *fier  Uubrctzky),  A.  The  egg-cell  has  divdcd  into  two 
spheres,  of  which  the  lower  contains  more  food -material,  whilst  the  upper  I» 
again  incompletely  divided  into  two  smaller  spheres.  Resting  ou  the  divIU- 
ing  upper  sphere  are  the  eight-shaped  "directive  corpusclis."  better  called 
"  pn*^eminal  outcast  cells  or  apoblasts,"  since  they  arc  ttc  result  of  a  cell- 

.  division  which  arlects  the  egg-ccU  before  it  is  impregnsted.  and  arc  mera 
refuse,  destined  to  disappear.  B.  One  of  the  two  smaller  spheres  is  reunited 
to  the  lai-gcr  sphere.  C.  Tlie  sinplo 'siuall  sphere  has  divided  into  two,  and 
the  reunited  mass  has  divi<led  into  two,  of  which  one  is  oblong  and  practi- 
cally double,  as  in  B,  D.  E-ich  of  the  four  seginent-cclla  gives  rise  by  divi- 
sion to  a  small  pellucid  cell.  E.  The  cap  of  small  cells  Ji as  increased  la 
n'-niilier  bv  rrpeate<l  fnnuation  of  i»ellucid  cells  in  the  name  way.  and  hy 
division  of  those  Hi-st  fonne-l.  The  cap  wUl  spread  over  and  tnclose  the  four 
negtutiit-ctilis,  as  in  (ig.  3,  A,  R 

only  in  later  and  special  lines  of  descent — show  approxi- 


C38 


MOLLUSCA 


fscriEMATic  Moiitrso: 


mately  the  following  history.  By  division  of  tne  egg-cell 
(fig.  3,  A,  B ;  Cg.  4,  A,  B ;  and  fig.  5)  a  mulberry-ma.s3  of 
embryonic-cc'Js  i.^;  formRf)  (Morula),  which  dilates,  forming 
a  one-cell-layered  sac  (Blastula).      By  invagination  one 


Fio.  0. — Developmcut  of  the  Oyster,  Ostrea  edulla  (modified  from  Horst,  16). 
A-  BlRstula  Btage  (onc-cell-laycreU  sac),  with  comineiicins  invasin.ition  of 
the  wall  of  the  sac  at  It,  the  blastopore.  B.  Optical  section  of  a  somewhat 
later  stage,  in  wliich  a  second  invagination  has  commenced— namely,  LiiaL 
of  the  fihell-gland  ofc;  bt,  blastopore ;  en,  invagiuated  endodemi  (wall  of  the 
future  arch-enteron) ;  cc,  ectoderm.  C.  Similar  optical  section  at  a  little 
later  stage.  The  invagination  connected  with  the  blastopore  is  now  more 
contracted,  d ;  and  c«Us,  nw,  forming  the  niesoblast  fiom  which  the  ccelom 
ar'l  muscular  and  skeieto-tropliic  tissues  develop,  are  separated.  D.  Similar 
section  of  a  later  stage.  The  blastopore,  W,  has  closed  ;  the  anus  will  sub- 
sequently perforate  the  coiTespoudin^  area.  A  new  ajiertui-e,  m,  the  mouth, 
has  eaten  its  way  into  the  invaginated  endodemial  sac,  and  the  cells  pushed 
in  with  it  constitute  the  stomodEeum.  The  shell-gland,  st,  ia  flattened  out, 
and  a  delicate  shell,  s,  appears  on  its  surface.  The  cili.ited  velar  ring  is  cut 
in  tho  scc*>n,  83  shown  by  the  two  projecting  cilia  on  the  upper  part  of  the 
figure.  Tlie  embryo  is  now  a  Trochospliero.  E.  Surface  view  of  an  embryo 
at  a  period  almost  Identical  witli  tliat  of  D.  F.  Later  embryo  seen  as  a 
transpareut  object,  m,  mouth  ;  ft,  foot ;  a,  anus  ;  e,  intestine  ;  st,  stomach  ; 
tp,  velar  area  of  the  prostomium.  Tlie  extent  of  the  shell  and  commencing 
npgrowtli  of  the  mantle-skirt  is  Indicated  by  a  line  forming  a  curve  from  a 
toF. 

K.B.— In  this  development,  as  In  that  of  Plsldium  (llgs.  150, 151),  no  part  of 
the  blastopore  persists  either  as  mouth  or  as  anus,  but  the  aperture  closes, — 
tlie  pedicle  of  invagination,  or  narrow  neck  of  the  invaginated  arch-entei-on. 
becoming  the  intestine.  The  mouth  and  tli  '  anus  are  formed  as  independent 
In-pushings,  the  mouth  with  stoinodfeuin  llrst,  and  tlie  short  anal  proctodaium 
touch  later.  This  Interpretation  of  the  appearances  is  contrary  to  that  of 
Horst  (16),  from  whom  our  drawings  of  the  oj-ster's  development  are  taken. 
The  account  given  by  the  American  naturalist  Brooks  (19)  differs  greatly  as 
to  matter  of  uct  from  that  of  Horst  and  appcurs  to  bo  erroneous  in  some 

portion  of  this  sphere  becomes  tucked  into  the  other — as 
in  the  .prej)aratiou  of  a  woven  night-cap  for  the  head  (fig. 
6,  B ;  fig.  7,  aJ.  The  orifice  of  invagination  (blastopore) 
narrows,  and  we  now  have  a  two-cell-layered  sac,— the 
Diblastula.  The  invaginated  layer  is  the  enteric  cell-layer 
or  eiidodenn  ,  the  outer  cell-layer  is  the  deric  cell-layer  or 
ectoderm.  The  cavity  communicaling  with  the  blastopore 
and  lined  by  the  cndodcnn  is  the  arch-enteron.  The  blas- 
topore, together  with  the  whole"  embryo,  now  elongates. 
,The  blastoiiore  then  closes  along  the  middle  portion  of  its 
extent,  which  corresponds  Avith  the  later  developed  foot. 
At  the  same  time  the  stomodasuta  or  oral  invagination 
forms  around  the  anterior  remnant  of  the  blastopore,  and 
the  proctodaniin  or  anal  invagination  forms  around  the 
posterior  lemcaiit  of  the  blastojjwe.     There  are,  Loweveri 


variations  in  regard  to  the  relation  of  the  blastopore  to  the 
mouth  and  to  the  anus  which  are  probably  modifications  of 
the  original  process  described  above.  AJi  examination  of 
figs.  3,  4,  5,  6,  7,  and  of  others  illustrative  of  the  embryo- 
logy of  particular  forms  which  occur  later  in  this  article, 
is  now  recommended  to  the  reader.  The  explanation  of 
the  figures  has  been  made  very  f;ill  so  as  to  avoid  the 


Fro.  7.— Development  of  the  River-Snail,  Paludtna  vivlpara  (after  Lankestevv 
17).  dc,  directive  corpuscle  (outcast  cell) ;  Of,  arch-enteron  or  cavity  line  t 
by  the  enteric  cell-layer  or  endoderm ;  bl,  blastopore ;  vr,  velum  or  circlet 
of  ciliated  cells ;  dv,  velar  area  or  cephalic  dome  :  sm,  site  of  the  as  yet  ua- 
formed  mouth  ;  /,  foot ;  ■m/'s,  rudiments  of  the  skeleto-trophic  tissues  :  pi, 
the  pedicle  of  iuvflglnatlnn,  the  futui-e  rectum  ;  shgl,  the  primitive  shell-sac 
or  shcU-gland  ;  m,  mouth  ;  an,  anus.  A.  Diblastula  phase  (optical  section). 
B.  The  Diblastula  has  become  a  Trochosphere  by  tlie  development  of  the 
ciliated  ring  vr  (optical  section).  C.  Side  view  of  the  Trochosphei-e  with 
commencing  formation  of  the  foot.  I).  Further  odv.anced  Trochosphere 
(optical  section).  E.  The  Trochosphere  passing  to  the  Veliger  stage,  doi-sal 
view  showing  the  formation  of  the  primitive  shell-sac.  F.  Side  view  of  the 
same,  showing  foot,  shell-sac  (shijl),  velum  (w),  mouth,  and  anus. 

^  A*.B — In  this  development  the  blasto)ioi-e  i»  uot  ciou„..U^t .  il  |>en.;sts  as 
the  anus.    The  mouth  and  st/'inodfp-im  form  independently  of  the  blastoporv. 

necessity  of  special  descriptions  in  the  text.  Internally,  by 
the  nipping  off  of  a  pair  of  lateral  outgrowths  (forming 
part  of  the  indefinable  "niesoblast")  from  the  enteric  cell- 
layer  the  foundations  of  the  ccelomic  cavity  are  laid.  In 
some  Ccelom.",*-i  these  outgrowths  are  hollow  and  of  large 
size.  In  JloUusca  they  ar^  nrt  hollow  and  large,  which  is 
probably  the  archaic  condition,  but  they  consist  at  first  of 
a  few  cells  only,  adhcmnt  to  one  another ;  these  cells  then 
diverge,  applying  themselves  to  the  body-wall  and  to  tho 
gut-wall  so  as  to  form  the  lining  layer  of  tho  calomic 
cavity.  Muscular  ti.^auc  develops  from  deep-lying  cells,  and 
the  rudiments  of  the  paired  nerve-tracts  from  thickenirjs 
of  the  deric-cell  layer  or  ectoderm. 

The  external  form  lueunwliile  p-sscs  through  highly  char- 
acteristic changes,  which  are  on  the  whole  fairly  constant 
throughout  the  Mollusca.  A  circlet  of  cilia  forhis  when  tha 
embrjo  is  still  ncarlj-  bpUericaJ  (fig.  4,  F  j  Cg.  6,  E ;  Cg.  7- 


(LASSKS  Am)  OBDESS.j 


MOLLUSCA 


639 


^),  in  an  equatorial  position.  As  growth  proceeds,  one 
hemisphere  remains  relatively  small,  the  other  elongates  and 
enlarges.  Both  mouth  and  anU4  are  placed  in  the  larger 
area ;  the  smaller  area  is  the  prostomium  simply ;  the  cili- 
ated band  is  therefore  in  front  of  the  mouth.  The  larval 
form  thus  produced  is  kno^vn  as  the  Trochosphere.  It 
exactly  agrees  with  the  larval  form  of  many  Chaetopod 
worms  and  other  Coelomata.  Most  remarkable  is  its 
agreement  ■with  the  adult  form  of  the  ^Yheel  animalcules 
or  Rotifera,  which  retain  the  prse-oral  ciliated  band  as  their 
chief  organ  of  locomotion  and  prehension  throughout  Ufe. 
So  far  the  young  Mollusc  has  not  reached  a  definitely 
Molluscan  stage  of  development,  being  only  in  a  condition 
common  to  it  and  other  Ccelomata.  It  now  passes  to  the 
veliger  phase,  a  definitely  Molluscan  form,  in  which  the 
disproportion  between  the  area  in  front  of  the  ciliated 
circlet  and  that  behind  it  is  very  greatly  increased,  so 
that  the  former  is  now  simply  an  emarginated  region  of 
the  head  fringed  with  cilia  (fig.  8 ;  fig.  6,  F ;  fig.  7,  F ; 
and  fig.  60,  A).  It  is  termed  the  "  velum,"  and  is  fre- 
quently drawn  out  into  lobes  and  processes.  As  in  the 
Botifera,  it  eerves  the  veliger  larva  as  an  organ  of  loco- 


Vn,  8.— "^cMger**  embryonic  form  of  jro!V,;^c.i  (from  Gflgenbanr).  r,  relnm ; 
-C  viscera,  dome  witll  dependent  mantle-skirt ;  p,  foot :  I,  cephalic  tentacles  ; 
ep,  operculum.  A.  Earlier,  and  B,  later,  Veliger  of  a  Gastropod.  C.  Veli- 
ger o;  a  Pteropod  showing  lobo-Uke  prorepses  A  the  velum  and  the  great 
paired  outgrowths  of  the  foot. 

motion.  In  a  very  few  Molluscs,  but  notably  in  the  Com- 
mon Pond-Snail,  the  emarginated  bilobed  velum  is  re- 
tained in  full  proportions  in  adult  life  (fig.  70),  havin? 
lost  its  marginal  fringe  of  specially  long  cilia  and  iu 
locomotor  function.  The  body  of  the  Veliger  is  char- 
acterized by  the  development  of  the  visceral  hump  on 
one  surface,  and  by  that  of  the  foot  on  the  other.  Gro\vth 
is  greater  in  the  vertical  dor.so-ventral  axis  than  in  the 
longitudinal  oro-anal  axis ;  consequently  the  foot  is  rela- 
tively small  and  projects  as  a  blunt  process  between  mouth 
and  anus,  which  are  not  widely  distant  from  one  another, 
whilst  the  antipedal  area  projects  in  the  form  of  a  great 
hump  or  dome.  In  the  centre  of  tliis  antinedal  area  there 
has  appealed  (often  at  a  very  early  period)  a  gland-like 
_,depre.ssion  or  follicle  of  the  integument  (fig.  6,  C,  si- ;  fig.  7, 
E,  F,  sV ;  fig-  60,  B  ;  fig.  68,  s/is ;  fig.  72***,  ss).  This  is 
the  primitive  shell-sac  discovered  by  Lankester  (18)  in  1 871, 
and  shown  by  him  to  precede  the  development  of  the  perma- 
nent shell  in  a  variety  of  Mol'uscan  tyjies.  Tho  cavity  of 
this  small  sac  becomes  filled  by  a  horny  substance,  and  then 
Itjvery  usually  disappears,  whilst  a  deUcate  shell,  commenc- 


ing from  this  spot  as  a  centre,  forms  and  spreads  upon  tl-c 
surface  of  the  vifceral  dome. 

The  embryonic  shell-sac  or  shell-gland  represent:  in  a 
transient  form,  in  the  individual  development  of  most 
MoUusca,  that  condition  of  the  shell-forming  area  v/hich 
we  have  sketched  above  in  the  schematic  Mollusc.  In 
very  few  instances  (in  Chiton,  and  probably  in  Lintas),  as 
we  shall  see  below,  the  -Jtmifnc  shell-sac  is  retained  and 
erdarged  as  the  permanent  shell-forming  area.  It  is  su'>- 
planted  in  other  Molluscs  by  a  secondary  shell-forming 
area,  namely,  that  afforded  by  the  free  siu-face  of  the 
visceral  hump,  the  shell-forming  activity  of  which  extends 
even  to  the  surface  of  the  depending  mantle-skirt.  Accord-' 
ingly,  in  most  MoUusca  the  primitive  slM  is  represented 
only  by  the  homy  plug  of  the  primitive  sheU-saC.  The 
permanent  shell  is  a  new  formation  on  a  new  area,  and* 
should  be  distinguished  as  a  secondary  shell. 

The  ctenidia,  it  ^vill  be  observed,  have  not  yet  been 
mentioned,  and  they  are  indeed  the  last  of  the  charac- 
teristic Molluscan  organs  to  make  their  appearance.  Their, 
posi;ible  relation  to  the  prae-oral  and  post-oral  ciliated  bands! 
of  embryos  similar  to  the  Trochosphere  will  be  discu.^sed' 
in  the  final  section  of  this  article  dealing  with  the  Polyzoa 
and  Brachiopoda.  The  Veliger,  as  soon  as  its  shell  begins 
to  assiune  definite  shape,  is  no  longer  of  a  form  common 
to  various  classes  of  MoUusca,  but  acquires  chaiactera 
peculiar  to  its  class.  At  this  point,  therefore,  we  shall 
for  the  present  leave  it. 

SrsTEiUTTC  Review  op  the  Classes  and  Okdees  ok, 

MOLLCSCA. 

We  are  now  in  a  position  to  pass  systematically  in 
review  the  various  groups  of  MoUusca,  showing  in  what 
way  they  conform  to  the  organization  of  our  schematic 
MoUusc,  and  in  what  special  ways  they  have  modified  or 
even  suppressed  parts  present  in  it,  or  phases  in  the  repre- 
sentative embryonic  history  which  has  just  been  sketched. 
It  ktU  be  found  that  the  foot,  the  sheU,  the  mantle-skirt, 
aad  the  ctenidia,  undergo  the  most  remarkable  changes  of 
form  and  proportionate  development  in  the  various  classes 
— changes  which  are  correlated  with  extreme  changes  and 
elaboration  in  the  respective  fimctions  of  those  parts. 

Li"ision  of  the  Phylum  into  tivo  Branches. — The  MoUusca 
are  sharply  divided  into  two  great  Unes  of  de?"ent  or 
branches,  according  as  the  prostomial  region  is  aifophied 
on  the  one  hand,  or  largely  developed  on  the  othei. 

The  probabilities  are  in  favour  of  any  ancestral  form — 
the  hj-pothetical  archi-Mollusc  which  connected  the  ixol- 
lusca  with  their  non-Molluscan  forefathers — having  pos- 
sessed, as  do  all  the  more  primitive  forms  of  Coelomata,  a 
weU-marked  jirostoinium,  and  consequently  a  head.  The 
one  series  of  MoUusca  descended  from  the  primitive  head- 
bearing  Molluscs  have  acquired  an  organization  in  which 
the  Molluscan  characteristics  have  become  modified  in 
definite  relation  to  a  sessile  inactive  life.  As  the  most 
prominent  result  of  the  adaptation  to  such  sessile  life  they 
exhibit  an  atrophy  of  the  cephalic  region.  They  form  the 
branch  LipocEPHiU.A — the  mussels,  oysters,  cockles,  and 
clams.  The  other  sei'ies  have  retained  an  active,  in  many 
cases  a  highly  aggressive,  mode  of  life ;  they  have,  corre- 
spondingly, not  only  retained  a  well-developed  head,  but 
have  developed  a  suecial  aggressive  organ  in  connexion 
with  the  mouth,  which,  on  account  of  its  remarkable  nature 
and  the  pecuUarities  of  the  details  of  its  mechanism,  serves 
to  indicate  a  very  close  generic  connexion  between  fiU  such 
animals  as  possess  it.  This  remarkable  organ  is  the  odon- 
tophore,  consisting  of  a  lingual  ribbon,  rasp,  or  radula, 
with  its  cushion  and  muscles.  On  account  of  the  pos- 
session of  tills  organ  this  great  branch  of  the  McUuscan 
phylum  may  be  best  designated  OLOSSOFHoaA.     Any  tena 


640 


MOLLUSCA 


[classes  and  oedeks. 


which  merely  points  to  the  possession  of  a  head  is  objec- 
tionable, since  this  is  common  to  them  and  the  hypotheti- 
cal archi-Mollusca  fi'om  wliich  they  descend.  The  term 
Odontophora,  wliich  has  been  applied  to  them,  is  also  un- 
suitable, since  the  organ  which  characterizes  them  is  not  a 
tooth,  but  a  tongue. 

1     \         "       V 

e  J-      »i;-j^ — 1_^   'f  /• 


/ 


^0.  9 Odontophom  of  Glossophoroua  MoUusca.  k  .*    . 

A.  Diagram  showing  mouth,  resophagus,  and  lingual  apparatus  of  ftCnsfro- 

pod  in  section,  aa,  upper  lip ;  al,  lower  lip  ;  h,  calcarco-corneous  jaw  of 
left  side ;  c,  outer  surface  of  the  snout ;  d,  (esophaguG ;  e,  fold  in  the 
vail  of  the  ttsophagus  behind  the  radular  sac  (a) ;  /,  anterior  termina- 
tion of  the  radnla  and  its  bed,  the  point  at  which  it  weai-s  away ;  j, 
liase  of  the  radular  sac  or  recess  of  the  pharjTix  :  ft,  cartilagmoua  piece 
developed  in  the  floor  of  the  pharynx  beneath  the  radula,  and  serving 
for  the  attachment  of  numerous  muscles,  and  for  the  support  of  the 
t&dula ;  i,  anterior  muscles ;  it,  posterior  muscles  attached  to  the  carti- 
lage ;  /,  muscle  acting  as  a  retractor  of  the  buccal  mass ;  to,  muscle 
attached  to  the  lower  lip ;  n,  posterior  extremity  of  the  radular  sac ; 
0,  the  bed  of  the  nvdula  or  layer  of  cells  by  which  its  lower  surface  is 
formed ;  p,  the  horny  radiUa  or  lingual  i-ibbon  ;  q,  opening  of  the  radular 
sac  into  the  pharynx  or  buccal  cavity ;  r,  cells  at  the  extreme  end  of 
tho  inner  surface  of  the  radular  sac  which  produce  as  a  "cuticidar 
>  iwrru'.ion  '■  liio  rows  of  teeth  of  tho  upper  surface  of  tho  rodula. 

B.  Badula  or  lingual  ribbon  of  Pafudiaa  vivipani,  stripped  from  Ita  bed,— a 

homy,  cutlcular  product. 

C.  A  single  row  of  teeth  fiom  tho  radula  of  Trochul  civcrarlvs.    lihlpldo- 

glossate;  formula.  X.S.I.5.X. 

D.  Asinglo  row  of  teeth  from  tho  radula  of  TauUimafragUh.    Ptenoglosaate ; 

formula,  x.O.x. 

E.  A  Binglo  row  of  teeth  from  tho  raduhl  of  CMlim  ciiiems.    Tooelaborato 

for  formulation. 

F.  A  single  row  of  teeth  fi-om  tho  radnla  of  Patella  v:tlanla.   Formula,  S.l. 4.1.3. 
O.  A  alr-slo  row  of  teeth  from  Uio  radula  of  Cui'riva  hcli'ola.    TaDnioglossato ; 

fonnula,  3.1. s.  „    .  .  , 

H.  A  single  row  of  teeth  finm  tho  radula  of  Nassa  anmhin.    Bacbiglossat^ : 
formulii,  l.I.l.    Tho  Cummon  Whelk  is  similar  to  this. 

Tho  general  stnictm-e  of  the  odontopliore  (  =  too*b- 
bearcr,  in  allusion  to  tho  rasp-like  ribbon)  of  tho  plosso- 
phorous  MoUusca  may  bo  conveniently  described  n-t  once. 
Essentially  it  is  a  tube-like  outgrowth — tho  radular  sac  (fig. 
It,  A,  y,  n)—\n  tho  median  line  of  the  ventral  floor  of  tho 
utomodicum,  upon  the  inner  siu-face  of  which  is  formed  a 
chitmous  band  (tho  radula)  beset  with  niiuuta  teeth  like  a 


rasp  (/)).  Anteriorly  the  ventral  wall  of  the  diverticulum 
is  converted  into  cartilage  {h),  to  which  protractor  and  re- 
tractor muscles  are  attached  (/-,  t),  so  that  by  the  action  of 
the  former  the  cartilage,  with  the  anterior  end  of  the  ribbon 
resting  firmly  upon  it,  may  be  brought  forwa;d  into  the 
spaco  between  tho  lips  of  the  .oral  aperture  'att,  at),  and 
made  to  exert  there  a  backward  and  forward  rasping  action 
by  the  alternate  contraction  of  retractor  and  protractor 
mascles  attached  to  the  cartilage.  But  in  many  Glosso- 
phora  {e.g.,  the  Whelk)  the  apparatus  is  complicated  by  the 
fact  that  the  diverticulum  itself,  with  its  contained  radula, 
rests  but  loosely  on  the  cartilage,  and  has  special  muscles 
attached  to  each  end  of  it,  arising  from  the  body  wall ; 
these  muscles  pull  tho  whole  diverticulum  or  radular  sac 
alternately  backwards  and  forwards  over  the  siu-face  of  the 
cartilage.  This  action,  which  is  quite  distinct  from  tho 
movement  of  the  cartilage  itself,  may  be  witnessed  in  a 
Whelk  if  the  pharynx  be  opened  whilst  it  is  alive.  It  has 
also  been  seen  in  living  transparent  Gastropods.  The  chi- 
tinous  ribbon  is  coutinuously  growing  forward  from  the 
tube-like  diverticulum  as  a  finger-nail  does  on  its  bed,  and 
thus  the  wearing  away  of  the  part  whicli  rests  on  the  car- 
tilage and  is  brought  into  active  ijse,  is  made  up  for  by 
the  advance  of  the  ribbon  in  the  same  way  as  the  wearing 
down  of  the  finger-nail  is  counterbalanced  by  its  own  for- 
ward growth.  And,  just  as  the  new  substance  of  the 
finger-nail  is  formed  in  the  concealed  part,  sunk  posteriorly 
below  a  fold  of  skin,  and  j-et  is  continually  carried  forward 
with  the  forward  movement  of  the  bed  on  which  it  rests, 
and  which  forms  its  undermost  layers,  so  is  the  new  sub- 
stance of  the  radula  formed  in  the  compressed  extremity 
of  the  radular  sac  {n),  and  carried  forward  by  the  forward 
movement  of  the  bed  (o)  on  which  it  rests,  and  by  which 
is  formed  its  undermost  layer.  Tliis  forward-moving  bed 
is  not  merel}'  the  ventral  wall  of  the  radidar  diverticulum, 
but  includes  also  that  portion  of  the  floor  of  the  oral  cavity 
to  which  the  radula  adheres  (as  far  forward  as  the  point  / 
in  fig.  9,  A).  At  the  spot  where  the  radula  ceases,  the  for- 
ward growth-movement  of  the  floor  also  ceases,  just  as  in 
the  case  of  the  finger-nail  the  similar  growth-movemeut 
ceases  at  the  line  where  the  nail  becomes  free. 

The  radula  or  cuticular  product  of  the  slowly-moving 
bed  can  be  stripped  off,  and  is  then  found  to  consist  of  a 
ribbon-like  area,  upon  which  are  set  numerous  tooth-like 
processes  of  various  form  in  transverse  rovs,  which  follow 
one  another  closely,  and  exactly  resemble  one  another  in  the 
form  of  their  teeth  (fig.  9,  B).  The  tooth-like  processes  in  a 
single  transver-'^o  row  are  of  very  difl'erent  shape  and  num- 
ber in  different  members  of  the  Glossophora,  and  it  is  pos- 
sible to  use  a  formula  for  their  description.  Thus,  when 
in  each  row  there  is  a  single  median  tooth  with  three  teeth 
on  each  side  of  it  more  or  less  closely  resembUng  one 
another,  as  in  fig.  9,  G,  we  write  the  formula  3.1.3.  When 
there  are  additional  lateral  pieces  of  a  different  shape  to 
those  immediately  adjoining  the  central  tooth,  we  indi- 
cate them  by  tho  figure  0,  repeated  to  rejjresent  their 
number,  thus  0000.1.1.1.0000  is  tho  formula  for  tho 
lingual  teeth  of  Chiton  Stdleri.  ■  A  single  median  tooth, 
an  admedian  scries,  and  a  lateral  series  may  be  thus  dis- 
tinguished. In  some  Glossophora  only  median  teeth  are 
present,  or  large  median  teeth  with  a  single  sm.dl  ad- 
median tooth  on  each  side  of  it  (fig.  9,  H) ;  these  aro 
termed  Rachiglossa  (formula,  — .1. —  or  1.1.1).  'In  a  large 
number  of  Glossophora  wo  have  three  admedian  on  each 
side  and  one  median,  no  lateral  jiieces  (fig.  9,  G) ;  these 
are  termed  Ttenioglossa  (formula,  3. 1.3).  Those  with  nume- 
rous lateral  pieces,  four  to  six  or  more  admedian  pieces, 
and  a  median  piece  or  tooth  (fig.  9,  C)  are  termed  Ehipi 
doglossa  (formula,  x.6. 1.6.x,  where  x  stands  for  an  inde- 
finite number  of  lateral  pieces).     Tho  .  Toxoglossa   have 


IBOFLEnBOUS  aASTBOPODS.] 


M  0  L  L  U  S  0  A 


641 


1.0.1,  the  central  tooth  being  absent  and  the  lateral  teeth 
peculiarly  long  and  connected  with  muscles.  The  term 
Ptenoglossa  (fig.  9,  D)  is  applied  to  those  Glossophora 
in  which  the  radula  presents  no  median  tooth,  but  an 
indefinite  and  large  number  of  admedian  teeth,  giving 
the  formula  x.O.x.  When  the  admedian  teeth  are  inde- 
finite (forty  to  fifty),  and  a  median  tooth  is  present,  the 
term  Myriaglossa  is  applied  (formula,  x.l.x).  It  must  be 
understood  that  the  pieces  or  teeth  thus  formulated  may 
themselves  vary  much  in  form,  being  either  flat  plates,  or 
denticulated,  hooked,  or  spine-lilie  bodies.  We  shall  revert 
to  the  terms  thus  explained  in  the  eystematio  descriotions 
of  the  groups  of  Glossophora. 

The  muscular  development  in  connexion  with  the  whole 
buccal  mass,  and  with  each  part  of  the  radular  apparatus, 
is  exceedingly  complicated, — as  many  as  twenty  distinct 
muscles  having  been  enumerated  in  connexion  with  this 
organ.  In  addition  to  the  radula,  and  correlated  with  its 
development,  we  find  almost  universally  present  in  the 
Glossophora  a  pair  of  horny  jaws  (usually  calcified)  de- 
veloped as  cuticular  productions  upon  the  epidermis  of  the 
lips  (fig.  9,  A,  b).  The  radula  and  the  shelly  jaws  of  tlie 
Glossophora  enable  their  possessors  not  only  to  voraciously 
attack  vegetable  food,  but  the  radula  is  used  in  some  in- 
stances for  boring  the  shells  of  other  MoUusca,  and  the 
jaws  for  crushing  the  shells  of  Crustacea,  and  for  wound- 
ing even  Vertebrata. 

'Pim.xni  MOLLUSCA. 

Branch  k.— GLOSSOPHORA. 

Cliaracters. — MoUusca  with  head-region  more  or   less 

prominently  developed ;  always  provided  with  a  peculiar 

rasping-tongue — the  odontophore — rising  from  the  floor  of 

the  buccal  cavity. 

The  Glossophora  comprise  three  classes,  chiefly  distin- 
guished from  one  another  by  the  modifications  of  the  foot. 

Class  I.— OASTKOPODA. 

Characters. — Gl&ssophora  in  which  (with  special  excep- 
tion of  swimming  forms)  the  foot  is  simple,  median  in 
position,  and  flattened  so  as  to  form  a  broad  sole-like  sur- 
face, by  the  contractions  of  which  the  animal  crawls,  often 
divided  into  three  successive  regions — the  pro-,  meso^,  and 
meta-podinm — by  lateral  constrictions. 

The  Gastropoda  exhibit  two  divergent  lines  of  descent 
hidicated  by  the  term  sub-class  (see  p.  649). 

Sub-class  1.— GASTROPODA  ISOPLEUKA. 
Characters. — Gastropoda  in  which  not  only  the  head 
and  ioot  but  also  the  visceral  dome  with  its  contents  and 
the  mantle  retain  the  primitive  bilaterai,  symmetry  of 
the  archi-Mollusc.  The  anus  retains  its  position  in  the 
median  line  at  the  posterior  end  of  the  body.  The  whole 
visceral  mass  together  with  the  foot  is  elongated,  so  that 
the  axis  joining  mouth  and  aniis  is  relatively  long,  whilst 
the  dorso-pedal  axis  at  right  angles  to  it  is  rhort.     The 

CTENIDIA,  the   NEPHRIDIA,    GENITAL   DUCTS,    and   CIECtTLA- 

TORY  ORGANS  are  paired  and  bilaterally  symmetrical.  The 
pedal  and  visceral  nerVe-cords  are  straight,  parallel  with 
one  another,  and  all  extend  the  whole  length  of  the  body ; 
the  ganglionic  enlargements  are  feebly  or  not  at  all  deve- 
loped.    The  Isopleura  comprise  three  orders. 

Order  1. — Polyplacophora  (the  Chitons).' 
Characters. — Gastropoda  Isopleura  with  a  metameric  re- 
petition of  the  shell  to  the  number  of  eight.  The  shells  of 
the  primitive  type  are  partially  or  wholly  concealed  in  shell- 
sacs  comparable  to  the  fsingle  embryonic  shell-sac  of  other 
Mollusca.     On  the  surface  of  the  mantle-flap  numerous 


calcified  spines  and  knobs  are  frequently  developed.  The 
ctenidia  are  of  the  typical  form,  small  in  size  and  meta- 
mencally  repeated  along  the  sides  of  the  body  to  the 


^'?;A°-~P"?  ^f;!"  of  ^Chiton.  A.  Dorsal  view  of  Chttm  WosnessmkHi. 
Midd.,  showing  the  eight  sheUs.  (After  Middendorf.)  B.  View  from  tbi 
pedal  surface  of  u  species  of  Chiton  from  the  Indian  Ocean  »  foot  •  o 
mouth  (at  the  other  end  of  the  foot  is  seen  the  anus  raised  on  a  papilla)  •  V 
oral  fringe  ;  6r,  the  numerous  ctenidia  (branchial  plumes) ;  spreading  beyond 
these,  and  all  round  the  animal,  13  the  mantle-skirt  (After  Cuvier  )  C  Th» 
same  species  of  Chiton,  with  the  shells  removed  and  the  dorsal  litegtiuent 
reflected.  0,  buccal  mass ;  m,  retractor  muscles  of  the  buccal  mi^s  •  ov 
ovary;  od,  oviduct;  i,  coils  of  intestines:  ac.  aorta;  c",  left  auricle'-  e! 
ventricle,  *  ^ 

number  of  sixteen  or  more;  an  ospnradium  or  area  of 
"  olfactory  epithelium  "  (Spengel)  is  found  at  the  base  of 
each  ctenidium.  The  other  organs  are  not  subject  to 
metameric  repetition.  The  odontophore  is  highly  devel- 
oped; the  teeth  of  the  lingual  ribbon  are  varied  in  form, 

several  in  each  transverse  row  (fig.  9,  E).  Paired  genital 
ducts  distinct  from  the  paired  nephridia  are  present. 

The  order  Polyplacophora  contains  but  one  family,  the 
Chitonidx,  with  the  genera:  Chiton,  Lin.  (figs.  10,  15,  &c.); 
CryptochUon,  Midd.,  1847;  and  Cryptoplax  (  =  ChitonellusS' 
Blainv.,  1818.  ' 

Order  2. — Keomenis. 

Characters. — Gastropoda  Isopleura  devoid  of  a  shell, 
which  is  replaced  by  innumerable  microscopic  calcified 
plates  or  spicules  set  in  the  dorsal  epidermis ;  mantle-flap 
not  lateral,  but  reduced  to  a  small  collar  surrounding  the 


FlO.  \\.—Nfmie: 
Ventral  view.    C.  Dorsal 
men.    a,  anterior;  6,  postei 
foot  is  concealed. 


B  C 

nata,  Tullberg  (after  Tullbcrg). 
'    ■         D.  Ventiaaviewofi 

extremity;  c,  furrow,  ia  iTbicb  the  uanov 


anus;  ctenidia  represented  by  a  symmetrical  group  of  bran- 
chial filaments  on  either  side  of  the  anus;  foot  very  nanow, 
sunk  in  a  groove;  odontophore  feebly  developed,  but  the 
radula  many-toothed ;  gonads  placed  in  the  pericardium 
discharging  by  the  nephridia ;  no  special  generative  ducts. 
The  order  Neomeniae  contains  the  two  genera  Keotnenia, 
Tullberg  (Solenopus,  Sars)  (fig.  11);  and  Pronennenia, 
Hubrecht. 

Order  3. — Chstoderma. 

Characters. — Gastropoda  Isopleura  devoid  of  a  shell, 
which  is  replaced  by  numerous  minute  calcareous  spines 


Fio.  li.—Chvtadcmr.  nUidvXvm,  Loren  (after  Graff).  The  cephalio  enlarga- 
ment  is  to  the  le't,  the  anal  chamber  (i-educed  pallial  chamber,  containijig 
the  concealed  pair  of  ctenidia)  to  the  right. 

standing  up  like  hairs  on  the  surface  of  the  body ;  body 
XVL  —  81 


642 


MOLLUSCA 


[ISOPLEUKOUS  GASTKOPODS. 


much  elongated  so  as  to  be  vennifonn ;  mantle-flap  as  in 
NeomcnioQ ;  ctenidia  in  the  form  of  a  pair  of  branchial 
p'omcs,  one  on  each  side  of  the  anus ;  foot  aborted,  its 
position  being  indicated  by  a  longitudinal  furrow ;  odonto- 
phoro  greatly  reduced,  the  radula  only  represented  by  a 
single  tooth  ;  gonads  and  nephridia  as  in  Neomenia. 

Tho  ordei  Chaetodenna  contains  the  Bingle  genus  Chx- 
toderma  (fig.  12). 

Farther  remarks  on  the  Isophurous  Gastropods. — The 
imion  of  the  Chitons  with  the  remarkable  worm-like  forms 
Neomenia  and  Choetoderma  was  rendered  necessary  by 
Hubrecht's  discovery  (25)  in  1881  of  a  definitely  consti- 
tuted radula  and  odontophore  in  his  new  genus  Proneo- 
menia,  founded  on  two  specimens  brought  from  the  arctic 
regions  by  tho  Barents  Dutch  expedition. 

By  some  writers — e.g.,  Keferstein — the  Chitons  have  been 
too  intimately  associated  with  the  other  Gastropoda,  whilst, 
on  the  other  hand,  Gegenbaur  seems  to  have  gone  a  great 
deal  loo  far  in  separating  them  altogether  from  the  other 
lloUusca  as  a  primary  EUudivision  of  that  phylum,  inas- 
much as  they  are  inti- 
mately bound  to  the 
other  Glossophora  by 
tho  possession  of  a 
thoroughly  typical 
and  well  -  developed 
odontophore.  They 
undoubtedly  stand 
.J  nearer  to  tho  archi- 
MoUusca  than  any 
other  Glossophora  in 
having  retained  a  com- 
plete bilateral  eym- 
metry  and  the  primi- 
tive shell-sac,  though 
the  metanaeric  repe- 
tition of  this  organ 
and  of  the  cteuidia  is 
a  complication  of,  and 
departure  from,  the 
primitive  character. 
It  is  not  improbable 
that  in  the  calcareous 
spines  and  plates  of 
the  dorsal  integument 
of  Neomenia  andChss- 
toderma,  which  occur 

Tiff.  :3.-.>^Dl!iCT!mis  nf  th"  allmmliry  <anal  of  also    on    the   part    of 
Isopleura  (from  Hubrecht).     o,   mouth  ;   a,  tlig  dorsum  uncovered 

anus  ;  d,  alimt-ntary  canal ;  I,  liver  (digestive  ,         in-      r^i  -i         

gland).    A.  Neomenia  and  Proncomcnia.     B.  by  shell  in  Lhlton,  we 

Chsttodcnna.   c.  Chiton.  ^^^.q  the  retention  of 

a  condition  preceding  the  development  of  the  solid  Mol- 
loscan  shell,  or  a  rever.sion  to  it.  The  minute  calcareous 
todies  may  have  the  same  relation  to  a  compact  shell  which 
the  shagreen  denticles  of  the  sharks  have  to  a  continuous 
dermal  bone. 

The  anatomy  of  tho  Gastropoda  Isopleura  has  been  largely 
elucidated  within  the  past  year  by  the  researches  of 
Hubrecht  and  of  Sedgwick,  who  have  been  the  first  to 
apply  the  method  of  sections  to  the  study  of  this  group. 

The  leading  points  in  tho  modifications  of  mantle-flap, 
foot,  and  ctenidia  are  set  forth  in  the  preceding  summaries, 
and  in  the  accompanying  references  to  the  figures.  \Vith 
regard  to  other  organs,  we  have  to  note  the  form  of 
tho  alimentary  canal  (fig.  13),  which  is  sim))!est  in 
Chaetoderma,  symmetrically  sacculated  in  Neomenia,  and 
wound  upon  itself,  forming  a  few  coils,  in  Chiton.  The 
latter  has  a  compact  liver  with  arborescent  duct,  which  is 
lepresented  by  the  sacculi  in  Neomenia  and  by  a  single 


caecum  in  Chstodenna.  Salivary  glands  are  present  in 
Chiton  and  in  Proneomenia.  The  radula  is  highly  devel- 
oped in  Chiton,  and,  though  present  in  Proneomenia,  has 
not  been  described  in  Neomenia.  A  single  tooth  in  Chs- 
toderma  appears  to  represent  the  radula  in  a  reduced  state. 
The  circulatory  organs  of  Chiton  alone  are  known  with 
any  degree  of  detail  (fig.  10,  C).  There  is  a  median  dorsal 
blood-vessel — the  aorta — which  is  enlarged  to  form  a 
ventricle  in  the  posterior  region  of  the  body.  On  either 
side  the  ventricle  is  connected  to  a  weU-developed  auricle, 
which  pours  into  it  the  aerated  blood  from  the  gills 
(ctenidia).  The  extent  to  which  vascular  trunks  are 
developed  has  not  been  determined,  but  vessels  to  and 
from  the  ctenidia,  and  in  the  mid-line  6i  the  foot,  are 
known.  As  in  other  MoUusca,  the  vessels  do  not  extend 
far,  but  lead  into  lacunce  between  the  organs  and  tissues. 
Dorsal  and  ventral  vessels  have  been  delected  in  Neomenia 
and  Chaetoderma,  but  no  specialized  heart. 


Fia.  H. — Diagrams  of  the  excretory  and  reprodnctire  organs  of  Isopleura  (after 
Hubrecht).  0,  ovary ;  P,  pericardium  ;  K.  nepliridium  :  u,  external  apcrturt 
of  nephritlium  ;  g.  external  aperture  of  the  5ri1it.1l  duct  of  Chiton  ;  r,  rectum; 
CI,  cloaca)  or  pallial  chamber  of  Neomcniie  and  Cha:todenna  ;  Br.  ctenidift 
(branchial  plujues).    A.  Cha:toderma.    B^  Neomeoia.    C.  PToncomcnla.    IX 


Ihitoi 


The  heart  of  Chiton  lies  in  a  space  which  is  to  b« 
regarded  as  a  specialized  part  of  tho  coelom,  and,  as  in 
other  Molluscs,  is  termed  the  pericardium.  In  front  of 
this  space  in  Chiton  lies  the  ovary  (fig.  14,  D).  In  the 
other  Isopleura  the  genital  bodies  (gonads)  lie  in  the  peri- 
cardium, which  has  a  longer  form  and  extends  dorsally 
above  the  intestine.  Opening  into  tlie  pericardium  equally 
in  all  the  Isoplcm-a  (fig.  1 4)  is  a  pair  of  bent  tubes  which 
lead  to  the  exterior.  These  are  tho  nephridia,  which  in 
Chiton  are  essentially  renal  in  function.  Their  disposition 
has  been  determined  by  Sedgwick  (26),  who  has  shown  that 
each  nephridium  is  much  bent  on  itself,  so  that,  as  in  the 


ISbFLEDSOITS  OASTSOPODa] 


MOLLUSCA 


643 


Inephridia  of  Conchifera  (organ  of  Bojanm),  tne  mtem&i 
aperture  lies  near  the  external  From  the  folded  stem  of 
.the  nephridium  very  numeroas  secieting  caeca  are  given  o^ 
' — omitted  in  the  dia- 
gram (fig.  14,  D),  but 
accurately  drawn  in 
fig.  15.  The  sexes  in 
Chiton  are  distinct, 
and  the  ovary  or  testis, 
as  the  case  may  be, 
though  lying  in  and 
filling  a  chamber  of 
the  original  ccelom, 
does  not  discharge  into 
tine  pericardium,  but 
has  its  own  ducts, 
■which  pass  to  the  ex- 
terior just  in  front  of 
those  of  the  nephridia 
(fig.  14,  D,  g,  and  fig.  ok 
16).  Li-  this  respect 
Chiton  is  less  primi- 
tive than  the  other  Iso- 
pleuia,  and  even  than 
some  other  Gastropods 
(the  Zygobranehia), 
'and  some  Conchifera 
(Spondylus,  (fee.),  which 
have  no  special  genital 
apertures,  but  make  use 
of   the   nephridia   for 

this  DUTDOSe.  InCTtton  ^'m-  is.— DissecUon  of  tha  renal  orgaM  fneph- 
J.     *      *  .  1-1.      ridia)  of  CAiton  ncttZiii,  after  Haller  Mroeiffn, 

ducrepans,     in     which     Zooi.  /nsli/.,  Vlemii,  18S2X   F,  foot ;  i,  edge  of 

there  are  sixteen  pairs    S°  ™"-'°  "'°*  removed  ti  the  front  pwt  of 

uuvAw  (uo^tu.A.vvvu  ^Mu«a  i^Q  gpecimen :  ».o.,  cesophagus;  o/,  anoa;  ffff, 

of  Ctenidia,  the  orifices  genital  dact:  ^.external  opening  of  the  same; 

^t     41..^ k-..^.:]:.^     «-«  'y-  Btem  of  the  nepbridimi^  leading  to  no,  ita 

of    the    nephndia    are  external  apertnre  ;«*,  reflected  portion  of  the 

coincident  with  the  six-  oephridial  stem ;  nj,  ene  caeca  of  the  nephh- 

,          .       f     .       .J.  dium,  which  are  seen  ramifying  transrersely 

teenth  pair  Ot  Ctemdia,  over  the  whole  inner  smi^oe  of  Uie  pedal  mos- 

thoSe     of    the    pnital  'ularmasa. 

ducts  with  a  point  between  the  thirteenth  and  fourteenth 
ctenidia. 

In  the  Keomenisa  and  Chstoderma  the  nephridia  are 


'r^ 


short  and  wide  (N  in  fig.  14,  A, 
B,  C),  and  function  as  excretory 
ducts  for  the  genital  products,  the 
gonads  being  lodged  in  the  long 
j>ericardium.  Their  separate  or 
united  apertures  open  near  the  anus 
into  the  small  chamber  formed  by 
the  restriction  of  the  mantle-skirt 
to  the  immediate  neighbourhood  of 
the  anus 

The  nervous  system  of  the  Gas- 
tropoda Isopleura  is  represented  in 
the  diagram  fig.  17.  In  all  it  is 
important  to  observe  that  nerve- 
ganglion  cells  are  by  no  means 
limited  to  special  swellings — the 
ganglia — but  are  abundant  along 
the  -./hole  course  of  the  four  great 
longitudinal  trunks.  This  is  a  pri- 
mitive character  comparable  to  that 
fa.  16.— 6rar7  and  oridncta  presented  by  the  nerve-cords  of  Ne- 
l^f/i^.rSf'Sf^tS^^mertine  worms,  and  of  the  Arthrol 
and  posterior  snspensor  of  pod  Peripatus.  ffigher  difTeren- 
iB^'^Srt  of'oTiduct);  o,  ti^tion  in.  other  Mollusca  leads  to 
"'^'*'''''  predominance  if  not  an  exclusive 

presence  of  nerve^/J&rej  in  the  cords,  and  of  nerve.^an^/it>n 
cdh  in  the  specialized  ganglia.  The  numerous  transverse 
connexions  of  the  pedsJ  nerve-cords  in  Chiton  and  Neo- 


menia  (seen  also  in  Fissurella  (fig.  36)  and  some  other 
Gastropods)  are  comparable  to  the  transverse  connexions, 
of  the  ventral  nerve- 
cords  of  Chaetopod 
worms  and  Arthro- 
pods. In  the  abund- 
ance of  the  nervous 
network  connected 
with  it3  longitudinal 
nerve-tracts,  Chiton 
appears  to  retain  som3- 
thmg  of  the  early  con- 
dition of  the  Coelo- 
mate  nervous  ^stem 
when  it  had  the  form 
of  a  sub-epidermic  net- 
work or  nerve -tunic 
(seen  more  clearly  in 
Planarians  and  some 
Nemertines),  and  when 
the  concentration  into 
definitely  compacted 
cords  had  not  set  in. 

Ganglia  are,  how- 
ever, distinguishable 
upon  the  nervous  cords 
of  Chiton  (fig.  18).  The 
cerebral  ganglia  are 
not  distingmshable  as 
«uch,  but  a  pair  of 
buci^  ganglia  (B  in 
fig.  18)  are  developed 
on  two  connectives 
which  pass  forward 
from  the  cerebral  re- 
gion to  the  great  mus- 
cular mass  of  the 
moutL  These  buccal 
ganglia  are  special  de^ 
velopments  connected 
with  the  special  mus-  ^£<,",;„  (^ 

CUlanty  of  the  ups  and     hral  ganglia ;  s,  anbllngnal  ganglia  ;  «,  pedal 

odontophore,  and  are    <eSS"f1i.'^S^'jL1Sffe'>£SS 

found     in    all     GloSSO-     nerre-corda.    A.  Proneomeniau    B.  Neomenia. 
1    I     ,         .    •      .  1.        C  Chxtoderma.    D.  Chiton. 

phora,  but  not  m  the 

lipocephala.  Such  special  ganglia  related  to  special 
organs  (and  not  introduced  in  our  schematic  MoUusc,  fig. 
1)  we  find  in  connexion  with 
the  siphons  of  the  Lipoce- 
phala, and  in  various  posi- 
tions upon  the  visceral  nerve- 
cords  of  other  Mollusca,  both 
Glossophora  and  Lipocephala. 
A  pair  of  pedal  ganglia  but 
little  developed  (p  in  fig.  18), 
and  a  special  group  of  sub- 
lingual ganglia  are  present  in 
Chiton.  On  the  whole,  the 
nervous  system  of  the  Iso- 
pleura is  exceedingly  simple 
and  archaic,  whilst  it  does  not 
well  serve  as  a  type  with 
_  which  to  compare  that  of 
de-  other  Mollusca  on  account  of' 

tail(fro'mGegenhaur,£Z«nfn^o/Coii«9.  ^.  ,,  ^  ^z  ^ -.._ 

AiuLUmi^.    B,  bociai  ganglia  (con-  the  Small  amount  Of  conceo- 
""bii'^*  ^''  °*°p°SdS''  '^' tration  of  its  nerve-ganglion 

glionand  commcnceme'ntof  pedal  cells  into  ganglia,  SUCh  as  WO' 

??,7su°b2i^  ^3S'aSrn"°ift:find  weU  developed  in  other 
♦"^i-  forms. 

The  development  of  Neomenia  and  Chatoderma  from 


644 


M  O  L  L   U   B  C  ^i 


[ANlSOPLEnBOUS   CASTEOPODa 


the  egg  is  entirely  nnknovm,  that  of  Cliiton  only  par- 
tially. Impregnation  is  effected  when  the  eggs  have  been 
discharged  and  are  lying  beneath  the  mantle-skirt.  A 
frochosphere  larva  i^J  developed  from  the  Diblastula  of 
Chiton  (Loven). 

The  Chitons  are  found  in  the  littoral  zone  in  all  parts  of 
the  world,  and  are  exclusively  marine.  Neomenia,  Proneo- 
menia,  and  Chictoderma  have  hitherto  been  dredged  from 
considerable  depths  (100  fathoms  and  upwards)  in  the 
North  Sea,  Proneomenia  also  in  the  Mediterranean(Marion). 

Sub-class  2.— GASTROPODA  ANISOPLEURA. 

Characters. — Gastropoda  in  which,  whilst  the  head  and 
loot  retain  the  bilateral  sjinmetry  of  the  archi-MoUusca, 
the  visceral  dome,  including  the  rnantle-flap  dependent  from 
it,  and  the  region  on  which  are  placed  the  ctenidia,  anus, 
generative  and  nephiidial  apertures,  have  been  .subjected 
to  a  ROTATION  tending  to  bring  the  anus  from  its  posterior 
median  position,  by  a  movement  along  the  right  side, 
forwards  to  a  position  above  the  right  side  of  the  animal's 
neck,  or  even  to  the  middle  line  above  the  neck.  This 
toriion  is  connected  mechanically  with  the  excessive  vertical 
g-owth  of  the  viscera!  hump  and  the  development  upon 
its  sm'face  of  a  heavy  shell.  The  shell  is  not  a  plate  en- 
closed in  a  shell-sac,  but  the  primitive  shell-sac  appears 
and  disappears  in  the  course  of  embryonic  development,  and 
a  relatively  large  nautiloid  shell  (with  rare  exceptions) 
develops  over  the  whole  surface  of  the  visceral  hump  and 
mantle-skirt.  Whilst  such  a  shell  might  retaiu  its  median 
position  in  a  swimming  animal,  it  and  the  visceral  hump 
necessarily  fall  to  one  side  in  a  creeping  animal  which 
csjries  them  uppermost. 

The  .shell  and  visceral  hump  in  the  Anisopleura  incline 


Fio.  19. — Diagram  to  Ehow  the  effect  of  torgion  01  rotation  of  the  visceral 
hump  In  Gastropoda,  when  the  visceral  neire  commissure  passes  above  the 
intestine  ;  A,  unrotated  ancestral  condition  ;  T;  quarter-rotation  ;  C,  com- 
plete Bemi-rotation  (the  limit) ;  L,  left,  R,  right  side  of  the 


normally  to  the  right  side  of  the  animal.  As  mechanical 
results,  there  arise  a  one-sided  pressure  and  a  one-sided 
strain,  together  with  a  one-sided  development  of  the 
muscular  masses  which  are  related  to  the  shell  and  foot. 
I'.nth  the  TORSION  THROUGH  A  .SEMICIRCLE  of  the  base  of  the 
visceral  dome  and  the  continued  leiotropic  sjiiral  gro^lh 
of  the  visceral  dome  itself,  which  is  very  usual  in  the 
Anisopleura,  appear  to  be  traceable  to  these  mechanical 
conditions.  Atrophy  of  the  representatives  on  one  side 
of  the  body  of  paired  organs  is  very  usual.  Those  placed 
inimitively  on  the  left  side  of  the  rectum,  which  in  virtue 
(if  the  torsion  becomes  the  right  side,  are  the  set  which  suffer 
(see  fig.  1 9).  Some  Anisopleura,  al ter  having  thus  acquired 
a  strongly-marked  inequilateral  character  in  regard  to  such 
organs  as  the  ctenidia,  ncphridia,  genital  ducts,  heart,  and 
fctum,  appear  by  further  change  of  conditions  of  growth  to 
have  acquired  a  superficial  bilateral  symmetry,  the  second- 


?.ry  nature  of  which  is  rsreaicd  by  anatomical  examination 

(Opisthobranchia,  Natantia). 

In  all  groups  of  Anisopleura  examples  are  numerous  in 

which  the  shell  is  greatly  developed,  forming  a  "  house " 
into  v.'hich  the.  whole  animal  can  be  with- 
drawn, the  entrance  being  often  closed 
by  a  second  shelly  piece  carried  upon 
the  foot  (the  operculum).  The  power  of 
rapidly  extending  and  of  again  contract- 
J*  ing  large  regions  of  the  body  to  an 
enormous  degree  b  M  ^ 
usual,  as  in  the  Li- 
pocephalous  Mol- 
lusca.  In  spite  of 
the  theories  which 
have  been  held  on 
this  matter,  it  ap- 
pears highly  prob- 
able that  no  fluid  < 
from  without  is  in- 
troduced into  the 
blood,  nor  is  any  ex- 
l^eUed  during  these 
changes  of  form. 
A  large  mucous 
gland  with  a  med- 
ian pore  is  usually    ^ 

developed    on    the    the  streptoi 


rebral  ganglion ;  Co^ 
pleural  panghon  .  P,  pe- 
dal ganglion  with  otocj-st 
attached ;  y,  pedal  nerve; 
A,  abdom'inal  ganglion 
fit  the  extremity  of  the 
twist€d  visceral  "loop" ; 
sp,  supra-intestinal  v" 


the    foot,    compar- 
able to  the  simiilar 
"of  ApT^^tTal^TeTf  gland  and  pore  in 
the  long-looped  Euthy-  Lipoccphala,  and  in 

neurousconditii.D.  The  /  ti_ 

untwistedvisceraiioop  some  cases  (e.^'.jPy- 

IB  lightly  shaded,    a,  j-nla    firr.  37,  B)  this  ral  ganglion  on  the  course 

cerebral  ganglion  ;  pi,  :  """'  "fa-  "■'■"/  ""^  of  the  right  visceral  cord ; 

pleural   ganglion ;   pe,  liaS    been    mistaken  s&,sub-intestinalganglion 

pedal  ganglion ;  ah.  sp,  f ._  „  „.atpr  nnrp  °"  ""  '^""l'  °^""'  ij** 

abdomin.al      ganglion,  ^""^  *  ^^^'"P"'^^-  visceral  curd.    (From  Ge- 

which  represents  also       The         leiotropic  genbaur,  after  Jhcring.) 

gangiicm"of  '"sircpto-  torsion  of   the  vi.sceral  dome  has  had 
neuia  and  gives  of!  the  igss  deep -Seated  efifect  in  one  series  of 

nerve  to  the    osphra-    .     .        ,  ,  .  ,  .  j 

dium  (olfactory  organ)  Anisopleura  than  in  another.     Accord- 
£rt"e?ed°°J'Sil:i°.g"e:ingly.  ^s  the  loop  formed  by  the  two 

nital"   ganglion.    Tlie  VISCEKAL   KEHVES  (fig.   19)  is   Or    is   not 
buccal  nerves  and  can-  i  ,  •.  •      .r       .     •   . 

giin  arc  omitted.  (Mter  caught,  as  it  Tvere,  in  the  twist,  we  are 

Spongei.)  Q\y\Q  to  distinguish  one  branch  or  line  of 

descent  with  straight  visceral  nerves — the  Ectthyneut-a 


Fio.  22.— NrrT0U3  syetcm  of  tho  Pond-Snail,  Limnicus  stagnalis,  as  a  type  of 
tho  alwrt-iooped  Euthyneuroua  condition.  Tho  sliort  visceral  "loop"  with 
(ts  tliroo  ganglia  ts  lightly-shaded.  «,  cerebral  ganglion  ;  pt,  pedal  ganglion  ; 
p\,  pleural  ganglion ;  ab,  nbdominal  ganglion ;  sp,  visceral  panglion  of  the 
left  side;  opposite  to  It  is  the  visceral  ganglion  of  tho  riRht  side,  which 
Rives  off  tho  long  ncr\e  to  the  olfactory  Raiiglion  and  o^pliradiom  o.  In 
I'lanorbia  and  in  Auricula  (Pulnior\ata,  alltna  t*f  LmmwHn)  Uie  olfactory  oi^an 
Is  on  tho  Irfi  sido  and  wcoives  ita  nerve  from  the  Itjl  visceral  ganglioa 
(After  Spcngtd.) 

(fig.  20) — from  a  second  branch  with  the  visceral  nerves 


rraoBRASCHiA.] 


MOLLUSCA 


645 


twisted  into  a  figure-of-eight — the  SxREPTOlTEtrRA  (fig.  21). 
Probably  the  Euthyneura  and  the  Streptoneura  have  de- 
veloped independently  from  the  ancestral  bilaterally  sym- 
metrical Gastropods.  The  escape  of  the  visceral  nerve-loop 
from  the  torsion  depends  on  its  having  acquired  a  somewhat 
deeper  position  and  shorter  extent,  previously  to  the  com- 
mencement of  the  phenomenon  of  torsion,  in  the  ancestors 
of  the  Euthyneura  than  in  those  of  the  Streptoneura.  The 
junction  of  the  two  halves  of  the  visceral  loop  in  the 
Euthyneura  is  below  the  anus,  and  the  loop  is  therefore 
not  caught  by  the  intestine.  In  the  Streptoneura  the 
junction  is  (as  in  the  Isopleura)  above  the  anus. 

Branch  a— STREPTONEURA  (Spengel,  1881). 

Characters. — Gastropoda  Anisopleura  in  which  the 
visceral  "loop"  (the  conterminous  visceral  nerves)  em- 
braces the  intestine  and  therefore  shares  in  the  torsion  of 
the  visceral  hump,  the  right  cord  crossing  above  the  left 
•o  as  to  form  a  figure-of-eight  (see  fig.  19). 

The  Streptoneura  comprise  two  orders  —  the  Zygo- 
branchia  and  the  A^ygobranchia. 

Order  1. — Zygobranchia. 
Characters. — Streptoneura  in  which,  whilst  the  visceral 
torsion  is  very  complete  so  as  to  bring  the  anus  into  the 
middle  line  anteriorly  or  nearly  so,  the  atrophy  of  the 
primitively  left-side  organs  is  not  carried  out.  The  right 
and  left  ctenidia,  which  have  now  become  left  and  right 
respectively,  are  of  equal  size,  and  are  placed  symmetrically 
on  either  side  of  the  neck  in  the  pallial  space.  Related 
to  them  is  a  simple  pair  of  osphradial  patches.    Both  right 


and  left  nephridia  are  present,  the  actual  right  one  being 
much  larger  than  the  left.  Two  auricles  may  be  present 
right  and  left  of  a  median  ventricle  (Haliotis),  or  only  one 
(Patella).  The  Zygobranchia  are  further  very  definitely 
characterized  by  the  archaic  character  of  absence  of  special 
genital  ducts.  The  generative  products  escape  by  the 
larger  nephridium.  The  sexes  are  distinct,  and  there  is 
no  copulatory  or  other  accessory  generative  apparatus. 
The  teeth  of  the  lingual  ribbon  are  highly  differentiated 
(Rhipidoglossate).  The  visceral  dome  lies  close  upon  the 
oval  sucker-like  foot,  and  is  coextensive  with  its  prolongar 
tion  in  the  aboral  direction. 

'  Tte  Zygobranchia  comprise  three  families,  arranged  in  two  sub- 
orders. 

Sub-order  1.   Ctenidiohranehia. 
Character, — Large  Jjaired  ctenidia  acting  as  gills. 
Family  1. — Baliolidw. 
Genera :  ffaliotis  (Ear-Shell,  Ormer  in  Guernsey) ;  mostly  tropical ; 
Teinotis. 
Family  2. — FisaurclUdic. 
Genera :  Fisstirclla  {Key-hole  Limpet)  (figs.  24,  36),  Emarginula. 
ParmophoTUs  (fig.  25)  ;  mostly  tropical. 

Sub-order  2.  PhyUidiobranchia. 
aractorj.— Ctenidia  reduced  to  wart-like  papillae ;  special  8ub- 


pallial  lameUoe,   similar  to  those  of  the  Opisthobranch   Plcuio. 
phyllidia,  perform  the  ftmction  of  gills. 
Family  Z.—Patcllida. 

Genera:  Patella  (Limpet,  figs.  26,  &c.),  A'oa/Za (BouLct-Liupet), 
Lcttia. 

Further RemarTcs  onZygobrawhia. — The  Common  Limpet 
is  a  specially  interesting  and  abundant  example  of  the 
remarkable  order  Zygobranchia.  A  complete  and  accurate 
account  of  its  anatomy  has  yet  to  be  written.  Here  we 
have  only  space  for  a  brief  outline.  The  foot  of  the 
Limpet  is  a  nearly  circular  disc  of  musciJar  tissue ;  in 
front,  projecting  from  and 
raised  above  it,  are  the  head 
and  neck  (figs.  26,  30).  The 
visceral  hump  forms  a  low 
conical  dome  above  the  sub- 
circular  foot,  and  standing  out 
all  round  the  base  of  this  dome 
so  as  to  completely  overlap  the 
head  and  foot,  is  the  circular 
mantle-skirt.  The  depth  of 
free  mantle-skirt  is  greatest  iu 
front,  where  the  head  and  neck 
are  covered  in  by  it.  Upon 
the  surface  of  the  visceral 
dome,  and  extendirig  to  the 
edge  of  the  free  mantle-skirt, 
is  the   conical   shell.     When  „     „     „     , 

,,,,.,  /u     i  ***J-  24.— Dorsal  aspect  of  a  specimea 

tne  snell  is  taKen  away  (best  of  Fissoreiia  a-om  whicii  the  sheu 
efifected  by  immersion  in  hot    S"'JZ 'TT/'J'^m' V''°,'"l"' 

>•  nor  area  of  the  mantle-skirt   has 

water)  the  surface  of  the  vis-  been  longitudinally  sUt  and  its  sides 
..»w^1     A^ «    ;.,     t^.l^A     t.^     v«      reflected,    a,  cephalic  tentacle;  ^, 

ceral  dome   is   fouud   to    be    f„ot;  j,  lett  (archaic  right)  giiit 

covered    by    a    black -coloured      plume  ;  t,  reflected  mantlellap ;  a 

.  ,     ,.       "^       i_.  1  V  the  fissure  or  hole  in  the  mantle-flap 

epitnelium,  wnicn   may  be   re-     traversed  by  the  longitudinal  Inci- 

moved,  enabUng  the  observer    Ss-^  .^plrt\«7''5!'';in"  •  ^''Jea 

to   note  tlie   position   of    some     (arclmic  right)  aperture  of  nephri- 

organs  lying  below  the  trans-  ^>^  ^  i-- »''°"'-  (O'l^toai.) 
parent  integument  (fig.  27).  The  muscular  columns  (c) 
attaching  the  foot  to  the  shell  form  a  ring  incomplete  in 
front,  external  to  which  is  the  free 
mantle-skirt.  The  limits  of  the 
large  area  formed  by  the  flap  over 
the  head  and  neck  (ecr)  can  be  traced, 
_  and  we  note  the  anal  papilla  show- 
ing through  and  opening  on  the  right 
shoulder,  so  to  speak,  of  the  animal 
into  the  large  anterior  region  of  the 
sub-pallial  space.  Close  to  this  the 
small  renal  organ  (i,  mediad)  and  the 
larger  renal  organ  [k,  to  the  right 
and  posteriorly)  are  seen,  also  the 
pericardium  {l)  and  a  coil  of  the  in- 
testine (ini)  embedded  in  the  com- 
pact liver. 

On  putting  away  the  anterior  p^rt 
of  the  mantle-skirt  so  as  to  expose 
the  sub-pallial  chamber  in  the  region 
of  the  neck,  we  find  the  right  and 
left  renal  papillse  (discovered  by  Lan- 
'Som  thfpS'iur'Sci.''"™  kester  (27)  in  1867)  on  either  side 

tede?  ir.Ve'S'tte  tw,;  ^^^  ^""^  P^P'"*  (^S"  '^^\  ''"'  °°  ^^ 

symmetrical  Eiiu  placed  on  If  a  similar  examination   be  made 
tie  neck.    (ffriglnaL)  ^f   jj^g   -^^^   ^^^^   FissureUa   (fig. 

24,  d),  we  find  right  and  left  of  the  two  renal  apertures 
a  right  and  left  gill-plume  or  ctenidium,  which  by  their 
presence  here  and  in  Haliotis  furnish  the  distinctive  char^ 
acter  to  which  the  name  Zygobranchia  refers.  In  Patellaj 
no  such  plumes  exist,  but  right  and  left  of  the  neck  are> 
seen  a  pair  of  minute  oblong  yellow  bodies  (fig.  28,  d)j 
which  were  originally  described  by  Lankester  as  orifices 
possibly  connected  with  the  evacuation  of  the  geneiativa 


646 


MOLLUSCA 


FZYGOBRANCHIA. 


prcStiols.  On  accoimi  of  their  position  they  were  termed 
by  him  tiie  "capito-psdal  orifices,"  being  placed  near  the 
juncticn  of  head  and  foot.  Spengel  (24)  has,  however,  in 
a  meat  ingenious  way  shown  that  thsss  bodies  are  the  repre- 
sentatives of  the  typical  pair  of  ctenidia,  here  reduced  to  a 
mere  rudiment.  Neiirtoeach  rudimentary  ctenidium  Spengel 


Fio.  26.— The  Common  Limpet  iPalcltcL  mlgata)  In  Ita  ehell.  seen  from  tie  pedn! 
Eorface.  x,  y,  the  median  antero-ponterior  axi3 ;  a,  cephalic  tentacle ;  b, 
planUr  snr£ice  of  the  foot ;  c,  frc-e  edge  of  the  Shell ;  d,  the  branchial  effe- 
rent vessel  carryiDg  aerated  blood  to  the  auricle,  and  here  jntermpting  the 
circlet  of  gill  lamellEE  •  e,  margin  of  the  mantlc-3l:irt ;  f,  gill  lamella  (noj 
ctenidia,  bnt  special  pallial  growths,  comparable  to  those  of  Pleurophyllidia); 
ff,  the  branchial  efferent  vessel ;  ft,  factor  of  the  branchial  advelient  vessel ; 
i.  Interspaces  between  the  muscuiar  bundles  of  the  root  of  the  foot  causing 
tie  separate  areae  seen  in  fig.  27,  c    (OriginaL) 

has  discovered  an  olfactory  patch  or  osphradium  (consisting 
of  modified  epithelium)  and  an  olfactory  nerve-ganglion 
(fig.  32).  It  will  be  remembered  that,  according  to 
Spengel,  the  osphra- 
dium of  Mollusca  is 
definitely  and  inti- 
mately related  to  the 
gill  -  plume  or  cteni- 
dium,  being  always 
placed  near  the  base 
of  that  organ;  further, 
Spengel  has  shown 
that  the  nerve-supply 
of  this  olfactory  organ 
is  always'derived  from 
the  visceral  loop.  Ac- 
cordingly, the  nerve- 
supply  affords  a  means 
of  testing  the  conclu- 
sion that  we  have  in 

Lankester's  capito-  f 'O-  27.— Dorsal  surface  of  the  Limpet 

,   1  ,      , .        . .       ^     , .       from  its  ehell  and  deprives!  of  ita  b 

pedal  bodies  the  rudi- 


mentary ctenidia.  The 
accompanying  dia- 
grams (figs.  34,  35)  of 
the  nervous  systems  of 
Patella  and  of  Haliotis, 


iTOd 

deprived  of  ita  black  pig- 
mented epithelium ;  the  internal  organs  are 
seen  through  the  transparent  body-wall,  c, 
muscular  bundles  forming  the  root  of  the  foot, 
and  adherent  to  the  shoU ;  c.  free  mantle- 
ekirt ;  cm,  tcntaculiferous  niarom  of  the  same  ; 
i,  smaller  (left)  nephridiuni;  i,  larger  (right) 
nephridium ;  I,  pericardium ;  ix,  librous  septum, 
behind  the  pericardium ;  n,  liver ;  int,  intes- 
tine ;  ccr,  anterior  ai-ca  of  the  mantle-skirt  over- 

as  determined  by  Spen-  i^"=6i"s  the  head  (cephaUo  hood).  (Onsinai.) 
gel,  show  the  identity  in  the  origin  of  the  nerves  passing 
from  the  visceral  loop  to  Spengel's  olfactory  ganglion  of 
the  Limpet,  and  that  of  the  nerves  which  pass  from  the 
visceral  loop  of  Haliotis  to  tho  olfactory  patch  or  osphra^ 
dium,  which  lies  in  immediate  relation  on  the  right  and 
on  the  left  side  to  the  right  and  the  left  gill-plumes 
(ctenidia)  respectively.     The  same  diagrams  sawe  to  de- 


Limpet,  vlth 


halic  tentacle^  b,"fi:ot;  c,  muficular  snbstanca 
fLirmin^'  the  root  of  the  foot ;  d,  the  capito-peda] 
organs  of  Lankejter  (=mdimentary  ctenidia);  «^ 
mantle-skirt ;  /,  papilla  of  the  larger  nephridium ; 
g,  anus :  ft,  papilla  of  the  smaller  nephridinm ;  U 
smaller  nephridiiun ;  Jfc,  larger  nephridium ;  Z,  peri- 
cardium ;  m,  cut  edge  of  the  mantle-skirt;  is 
liver ;  p,  snout.    (OriginaL) 


moastrate  the  Strsptoneurons  Qondition  of  tie  visceral  loop 
in  Zy^obranchia. 

Thus,  tJien,  we  find  that  the  Limpet  possesses  a  sym- 
metrically-disposed pair  of  ctenidia  in  a  rudimentary  con- 
dition, and  justifies 
its  position  among 
Zygobranchia.  At 
the  same  time  it  pos- 
sesses a  totally  dis- 
tinct series  of  func- 
tional gills,  which 
are  not  derived  from 
the  modification  of 
the  typical  MoUa*- 
can  ctenidium. 
These  gills  ere  in 
the  form  of  delicate  Fio.  28. 
lamelhB  (fig.  26,/), 
which  form  a  series 
extending  oom- 
pletely  roimd  the 
inner  face  of  the 
depending  mantle- 
skirt.  This  circlet  of  gill-lameUs  led  Cuvier  to  class  the 
Limpets  as  Cyclobranchiata,  and,  by  erroneous  identifica- 
,•  tion  of  them  with 

,  9s.     \         I        /"  ^^  series  of  meta- 

t'\   \    \       [       /  .     merically  repeated 

d       \  \s«9ifex\^   i^— ctenidia  of  Chiton, 

to  associate  the 
latter  Mollusc 
with  tho  former. 
The  gill -lamella) 
of  Patella  are 
processes  of  the 
mantle  compar- 
able to  the  plitit- 
like     folds    often 

FiQ.  29. — The  same  specimen  viewed  from  the  left  observed  On  the 
fi^nt,  so  as  to  show  the  sub-anal  tract  (/)of  the  f  ^e  ii,^  V,-q-, 
larger  nephridium,  by  which  it  communicates  with  rOOI  01  lllO  Dran- 
tlie  pericai-dimu.    o,  mouth;  other  letlei-a  as  in  fig.  28.  chial    chamber    in 

Other  Gastropoda  (e.g.,  Buccinum  and  Haliotis).  They  are 
termed  pallial  gills.  The  only  other  Molluscs  in  which 
they  are  exactly  represented 
are  the  curious  Opistho- 
branchs  Phyllidia  and 
Pleurophyllidia  (fig.  57). 
In  ttese,  as  in  Patella,  the 
typical  ctenidiii  are  aborted, 
and  the  branchial  function 
is  assumed  by  close -set 
lamelliform  processes  ar- 
ranged in  a  series  beneath 
the  mantle-skirt  on  either 
side  of  the  foot.  In  fig.  20, 
d  the  large  branchial  vein  of 
Patella  brir-ging  blood  from 


fcia-/- 


IS  seen ;  where  it  crosses 
the  series  of  lamellx  there 
is  a  short  interval  devoid 
of  lamella. 

The  heai-t  in  Patella  con- 


'  ir^alorganA 

relation  to  th« 

rectum  and  to  the  pericardium.    /  p^ 

pilla  of  the  larger  nephridinm ;  g,  anal 

papilla  with  reclmn  leading  from  it;  h, 

papilla  of  the  smaller  nephridium,  wMch 

13  only  represented  by  dotted  outlines; 

I,  pericardium  indicated  by  a  dotted  out- 

lino,— St  its  right  side  are  seen  tho  two 

rcno-pei-icardial  pon?3 ;  JT.  tie  sub-anal 

sistS  of  a  single  8,Uriclo  (not     tract  of  the  h-irgo  nephridium  given  off 

TT   1-   i-  J  T7"         near  ita  papilla  and  seen  through  tho 

two  as  m  Haliotis  and  flS-     unshaded smaUer  nephridium;  Uo,ati. 

sureUa)  and  a  ventricle ;  the    Si,,'.;;?^ 7  i'°^i  t  ^L^t,"^ 

'  .  .Ilia     phndium;  A5.t,  left  lobe  of  aame;  ftxft 

former    receives    tue    blOOa     posteilor  lobe   of  same;  fo.i,  inferior 

from  the  branchial  vein,  the    "ob-vtaMral  lobe  of  same.   (Original.) 
latter  distributes  it  through  a  large  aorta  which  soon  leads 
into  iiregulai'  blood-lacmue. 


f!aOBBASCBlAj\ 


MOLLUSCA 


047 


The  ezistance  of  two  renal  organs  in  Patella,  and  their 
relation  to  the  pericardium  (a  portion  of  the  ccelom),  is 


section :  r,  lingual  sac  (radular  sac) ;  rd,  radula ; 

salivary  gland  ;  «,  dnct  of  same ;  v,  buccal  cavity ;     .  „ 

ftdvehcnt  vessel  (artery) ;  br.v,  branchial  efferent  vessel  (vein) ;  bv,  blood- 

vesj;! ;  odm,  muscles  and  cartibsc  of  the  odoutophore ;  cor,  heart  wlthiu  tlie 

pcricardiam.    (Origiual.) 

important.     Each  renal  organ  is  a  sac  lined  with  glandular 
epithelioiu  (ciliated  cells  with  concretions)  communicating 


Pio.  8!.— A.  Section  In  a  plane  vertical  to  the  snrtice  of  the  neck  of  Patella 
through  a,  the  rudiiDCntary  ctenidium  (Lankeater's  organX  and  &,  the  ol- 
factory epitheiium  (osphradiuni)  ;  c,  the  olfactory  (osphradial)  ganglion. 
(After  Spengel.)  R  Surface  view  of  a  radiiucntiry  ctenidium  of  Patella, 
excised  and  viewed  as  a  transparent  object.    (OriginaL) 

with  the  exterior  by  its  papilla,  and  by  a  narrow  passage 
with  the  pericardium.  The  connesion  with  the  pericar- 
6 


Fro.  C3.— Vertical  eectlon  in  a  plr.nc  mnning  right  and  left  throogh  the 
anterior  part  of  the  visceral  huini\of  Patella,  to  show  the  two  renal  or^ns 
._  1  .L.i.  openings  into  the  pericardium,    a,  Urge  or  external  or  right  renal 


and  the; 

process  of  the  same  running  ^\ow  the  intestine  and  lead- 
ing by  k  into  the  poricaiTlimn ;  6,  small  or  median  renal  organ;  r,  peri- 
cardium ;  </,  rectum  ;  t,  liver ;  /,  man)Tl'G3  ;  p.  epithelium  of  the  dorsal  sur- 
face :  A,  reuai  epithelium  lining  the  rensl  sacs ;  /,  aperture  connecting  the 
amal!  sac  wiUi  tiie  pericardium ;  t,  aperture  connecting  the  largo  s-ic  with 
thepericardium.  (Ftcm  ,-.„  f,rigiaal  diauing  by  Ur  J.  T.  CucniuAam,  Fellow 
of  (Jr.i«rsity  College,  Oxford.) 

dium  of  ths  smaller  of  the  two  renal  organs  was  demon- 
stiated  by  Lanke-ste:-  in  1867,  at  a  time  when  the  fact 


that  the  renal  organ  of  the  JloUcsca,  as  »  rtua,  opens  mic 
the  pericardium,  and  is  therefore  &  tyjjical  nephridium, 
was  not  known.  Subsequent  investigations  (37)  carried  on 
under  the  direction  of  the  same  , 

naturalist  have  shown  that  tha 
larger  as  well  as  the  smaller  renal 
sac  13  in  communication  with  the 
pericardium.  The  walls  of  the 
renal  sacs  are  deeply  plaited  and 
thrown  into  ridges.  Below  the 
surface  these  v.-alls  are  excavated 
with  blood-vessels,  so  that  the  sac 
is  practically  a  series  of  blood-ves- 
seb  covered  with  renal  epithelium,  ,_ 
and  forming  a  mesh-work  within 
a  space  communicating  with  the 
exterior.  The  larger  renal  sac  (re- 
markably enough,  that  which  is 
aborted  in  other  Anisopleura)  ex- 
tends between  the  Kver  and  the 
integument  of  the  visceral  dome  no.  st-Xervous  system  of  ft- 

very  widely.  It  also  bends  round  Jf'J?.,'  ^t  /"i^^l  ''?''  '^ 
.1    •^v  •'     ,  •      /!       o/s  ,     lightly  shaded:    the  boccsl 

tne  liver   as  shown  in    ng.  oO,  and     ganglia  ara  omitted.    «,  cero- 

forms  a  la^ge  sac  on  half  of  the  mTige°f^,'p'icSS^6S; 
upper  surface  of  the  muscular  mass  f- 1*^'  eaugiion ;  pe,  pedal 
of  the  foot.  -Here  it  lies  close  feft)  to'tb'e  SSit^f o^o^ 
upon  the  genital  body  (ovary  or  ^Se^o^^iTsJ^Xn'^*^ 
testLs),  and  in  such  intimate  rela-  visceral  loop.  (After  spengei.) 
tionship  with  it  that,  when  ripe,  the  gonad  bursts  into  the 
r«nal  sac,  and  its  products  are  carried  to  the  exterior  by 
th^  papUla  on  the  right  side  of  the  anus  (Sobin,  Dall). 
This  fact  led  Cuvier  erroneously  to  the  belief  that  a  duct 
existed  leading  from  the  jronad  to  this  papilla.  The 
position  of   the   gonad,  best   seen  in  the  diacTammatic 


Fio.  35.— Ncrrons  system  of  Haliotis;  the  rlsccral  loop  li  lightly  shaded: 
the  buccal  gauglia  arc  omitteil.  cc,  cc-^bial  ganglion :  pf.pf,  the  fused  pletuaj 
and  pedal  ganglia ;  /w,  the  rigiit  petlal  nerve ;  ce.pf,  the  cerebro-pleural 
' "^       erebro-pedal  cooueotive;  »,  s", 


;  ah.  abdomiual  ganglie 


I  left 
te  of  same  ;  o.  o.  right  and  left  olfactoly 
from  visceral  loop.    (Ailer  Spengel.) 


u-.-i  ,v3  ,  uv.  aiiuuiiuuai  gs.igiiun 
pmglia  and  osphiadia  receiving 

section  (fig.  31),  is,  as  in  other  Zygobranchia,  devoid  of 
a  special  duct  communicating  ■with  the  exterior.  This 
condition,  probably  an  archaic  one,  distinguishes  the  Zyg» 
brancliia  among  all  Glossophorous  iloUusca. 

The  digestive  tract  of  Patelia  offers  some  interesting 
features.  The  odontophore  is  powerfully  developed-j  the 
radular  sac  is  extraordinarily  long,  lying  (wiled  in  a  eoei^ 


648 


MOLLUSGA 


[azvcobbahchii, 


between  the  mass  of  the  liver  and  the  muscular  foot.  The 
radula  has  160  rows  of  teeth  -svith  twelve  teeth  in  each  tow. 
Two  pairs  of  salivary  ducts,  each  leading  from  a  salivary 
gland,  open  into  the  buccal  chamber.  The  cesophagxis  leads 
into  a  remarkable  stomach,  plaited  like  the  manj^pUes  of  a 
sheep,  and  after  this  the  intestine  takes  a  very  large  num- 
ber of  turns  embedded  in  the  yellow  liver,  until  at  last  it 
passes  between  the  two  renal  sacs  to  the  anal  papilla.  A 
curious  ridge  (spiral  t  valve)  which  secretes  a  sUmy  cord  is 
found  upon  the  inner  wall  of  the  intestine.  The  general 
structure  of  the  JloUuscan  intestine  has  not  been  suffi- 
ciently investigated  to  render  any  comparison  of  this  struc- 
ture of  Patella  with  that  of  other  MoUusca  possible.  The 
eyes  of  the  Limpet  (28)  dessrve  mention  as  examples  of 
the  most  primitive  kind  of  eye  in  the  MoUuscan  series. 
They  are  found  one  on  each  cephalic  tentacle,  and  are 
simply  minute  open  pits 
or  depressions  of  the 
epidermis,  the  epidermic 
cells  lining  them  being 
pigmented  and  connected 
with  nerves  (compare  fig. 
118). 

The  Limpet  breeds 
upon  the  soutliem  Eng- 
lish coast  in  the  early 
part  of  April,  but  its  de- 
velopment has  not  been 
followed.  It  has  simply 
been  traced  as  far  as  the 
formation  of  a  Diblastula 
which  acquires  a  ciliated 
band,  and  becomes  a 
nearly  spherical  Trocho- 
Bphere.  It  is  probable 
that  the  Limpet  takes 
several  years  to  attain 
full  growth,  and  during 
that  period  it  frequents 
the  same  spot,  which 
becomes  gradually  sunk 
below    the    surrounding  j.^^  so.-Semw  system  of  Fissraella.    j,!, 


e ;  p,  pedal  i 


A;  abdomi 

lia  in  the  Streptonenrous  visceral 

with  supra-  and  Gub- intestine 


__,  .,  jtocysts  attached  to  the  cerebro- 
edal  connectives.  (Prom  Gegenbaur,  after 
tering.) 


surface,  especially  if  the    paiiiai 
rock  be  carbonate  of  lime.    ""_'" 

At  low  tide  the  Limpet  r.^ii°i.°S;,^°!;,?L*°  lA,*.°S?;l  i^^'^ 
(bemg  a  strictly  inter- 
tidal  organism)  is  ex- 
posed to  the  ail',  and  is 
to  be  found  upon  its  spot  of  fixation ;  but  when  the  water 
again  covers  it,  it  (according  to  trustworthy  observers) 
quits  its  attachment  and  walks  away  in  search  of  food 
(minute  encrusting  algaa),  and  then  once  more  as  the  tide 
falls  returns  to  the  identical  spot,  not  an  inch  in  diameter, 
which  belongs,  as  it  were,  to  it.  Several  million  Limpets 
— twelve  million  in  Berwickshire  alone — are  annually  used 
on  the  east  coast  of  Britain  as  bait. 

Order  2. — Azygobranchia. 

Charaaers. — Streptoneura  which,  as  a  sequel  to  the 
torsion  of  the  visceral  hump,  have  lost  by  atrophy  the 
originally  left  ctenidium  and  the  originally  left  nephriJium, 
retaining  the  right  ctenidium  as  a  comb-like  gill-plmno  to 
the  actual  left  of  the  rectum,  and  the  right  ncphridiiun 
(that  which  is  the  smaller  in  the  Zygobranchia)  also  to  the 
actual  left  of  the  rectum,  between  it  and  the  gill-plume. 
The  right  olfactory  organ  only  is  retained,  and  may  assume 
the  form  of  a  comb-like  ridge  to  the  actual  left  of  the 
ctenidium  or  branchial  plume.  It  has  been  erroneously 
described  as  the  second  gill,  and  is  known  as  the  para- 
branchia.     The  rectum  itself  lies  on  the  animal's  right 


shodder.  The  prcaonce  of  {jianJiJar  plication  of  the  siufaca 
of  ihe  m?.n'.\'>Z%i>  (fig.  46,  x)  and  an  adrectal  gland  (purple- 
gland,  fig.  47,  yji)  are  frequently  observed.  The  sexes  are 
always  distinct;  a  special  gemtal  duct  (oviduct  or  sperm 
duct)  unpaired  is  present,  opening  cither  by  the  side  of  the 
anus  or,  in  the  males,  on  the  right  side  of  the  neck  in  con- 
nexion with  a  large  peois.  The  shell  is  xisually  large  and 
spiral;  often  an  operculum  is  developed  on  the  upper  sur- 
face of  the  hinder  part  of  the  foot.  The  dentition  of  the 
lingual  ribbon  is  very  varied.  In  most  cases  the  visceral 
hump  .and  the  foot  increase  along  a:ses  at  right  angles  to 
one  another,  so  that  the  foot  is  extended  far  behind  the 
visceral  hump  in  the  ab-oral  direction,  whilst  the  visceral 
hump  is  lofty  and  spirally  t'^visted. 

This  is  a  very  large  group,  and  is  conveniently  divided 
into  two  sections,  the  Reptantia  and  the  Natantia.  The 
former,  containing  the  immense  majority  of  the  group, 
breaks  up  into  three  sub-orders,  the  Holochlamyda,  Pneu- 
monochlamyda,  and  Siphonochlamyda,  characterized  by  the 
presence  or  absence  of  a  trough-like  prolongation  of  the 
margin  of  the  mantle-flap,  which  conducts  water  to  the 
respiratory  chamber  (sub-pallial  space  where  the  gill,  anus, 
itc,  are  placed),  and  notches  the  mouth  of  the  shell  by 
its  presence,  or  again  by  adaptation  to  aerial  respira- 
tion. The  sub-orders  are  divided  into  groups  according  to 
the  characters  of  the  lingual  dentition.  In  some  Azygo- 
branchia the  mouth  is  placed  at  the  end  of  a  more  or  less 
elongated  .snout  or  rostrum  which  is  not  capable  of  intro- 
version (Rostrifera) ;  in  the  others  (Proboscidifera)  the 
rostrum  is  partly  invaginated  and  is  often  of  great  length. 
It  is  only  everted  when  the  animal  is  feeding,  and  is  with- 
drawn (introverted)  by  the  action  of  special  muscles ;  the 
over-worked  term  "  proboscis  "  is  applied  to  the  retractile 
form  of  snout.  The  term  "  introversible  snout,"  or  simply 
"introvert,"  would  be  preferable.  The  presence  or  absence 
of  this  arrangement  does  not  seem  to  furnish  so  natural  a 
division  of  the  Reptant  Azygobranchia  as  that  afforded  by 
the  characters  of  the  mantle-skirt. 

Section  a.— REPTANTIA. 
Characters. — Azygobranchia  adtipted  to  a  creeping  life ;  foot  either 
wholly  or  only  the  mesopodium  in  the  form  of  a  creeping  disc 

Sub-order  1. — Hotochlainyda. 
Characters. — Reptant  Azygobranchia  with  a  simple  marg^  to  the 
mantle-skirt,  and,  accordingly,  the  lip  of  the  shell  unnotched; 
mostly  Rosti'ifera  (t.c,  with  a  non-introversible  snout),  and  vege- 
tarian ;  marine,  bmckish,  fresh-water,  teiTestriaL 

o.  JViipidoglossa  (x.4  to  7.1.4  to  7.x). 

Family  1. — Trochidse. 
Genera  :    TiirbOy  Lin. ;  Phasianclla,  Lam. ;  Tmperatorf   MoDtf.  j 
Trochus,  Lin. ;  HotcUa,  Lam. ;  EuovijihahtSj  Low. 
Family  2. — Nfritidsj. 
Genera :  Ncrita,  L. ;  Ncrititxa,  Lam, ;  FiUolm,  Low ;  Navkclla, 
Lam. 
Family  3. — Plcurotomarida. 

Genera:    Plcurotomaria,   Defr. ;   Anatomus,   Montf. ;  Stomalia, 
Helbmg. 

/3.  Ptenoglossa  {,x.0.x). 
Family  i. — Scalaridee. 

Genus  :  Scalaria,  Lam. 
Family  5. — Janthinidx. 
Genera :  JaiU/iina,  Lam.  (fig.  ii) ;  }!ecluzia.  Petit 

7.   Teenioglossa  (3.1.3). 
Family  6.—Cer!lhidis. 

Genera:  Ccrilhinm,  Brug.;  Potamidcs,  Brong.;  Kerinaea,  Defr. 
Family  7. — Mctanidw. 

Genera:  Mdania,  Lam.;  Mclanopsia,  Fir.;  Ana/lotus,  Lay. 
Family  8. — PyramidclUdiu. 

Genera:  Pyramiddla,  Lam.;  Stylina,  Flem.;  Aclis,  Loven. 
Family  9.  —  furrilcUid«. 

Genera:   Turrilclla,  Lam.;  Ceectim,  Flem.;    Vemutus.  Adans.; 
Siliquaria,  Brug. 
Family  10. — Xcnophoridtv. 

Genus  :  Phorus,  Montf.  (fig.  39). 


(AZyGOBR  ANCHIA.  j 


MOLLUSC  A 


T.1^  Tn^W  0,  TEK  Sm«)m3I0KS  0.  TH.  CLASS  «-^^OPODA,   AB^^o.::.  so  ^  «,  aHOW  THm  «;i^S^  (toETX 

Class. —GASTROPODA. 
[Arch-isophurum. ) 

i L 


64» 


SulMjaSS  1. — ISOPIETBA. 


Snb-cUs9  2. — AkisopIiEwea. 
(ArchicuOiyneurum. ) 


Branch  a. — SiEEPT0Ni;ur>4 
(Archwygobrancldum. ) 


Branch  i.— EuTHTNEiriLi. 
(Arckiopisthobranchiwni. ) 


9    9     Q     Order  1.— Sygobranchia. 


Order  2. — ^AzraoBEANCHiA. 
(Archilwlochlamydum. ) 


Sect.  a. 
SeptarUia, 


Order  1.— Opisthobeascbia. 
lArchipalliatum.} 


2.— PULJ 


Order  2.— Pulmonata. 


Sect.  a. 
Palliaia, 


Sect  >. 
NonrPalliata. 


I  i  r 


Family  11. — Naiicida. 

Genera:  If lUica,  lam.-,  Sitjarttus,  tam.;  Neritopsia,  Gratel. 
Family  12. — EntoconchicUe. 
The  single  genus  and  s{)ecies  Entoamcha  mirdtnlis,  discovered  by 
Joh.  Miillcr  in  18S1,  parasitic  in  Synapta  digiltUa.    The  adult 
form  is  not  known. 
I'\imily  13. — Marscnidse. 

Genera :  Marscnia,  Leach  ;  Ondiidiopsis,  Beck. 
Family  14. — Acmwidse. 
Genera :  Acnusa,  Esclisch. ;  Loltia,  Gr. ;  (probably  these  will  be 
found  to  belong  to  the  Zygobranchia). 
Tataily  15. — CopvAidse. 
Genera :  Capulus,  Jilontf. ;  Calyptrm,,  Lam.  (fig.  40) ;  TrochUa, 
Schum. 
Family  16. — LiUorinidiv. 
Genera :  Littorina  (the  PeriwinWcs,  fig.  46) ;  Modulus,  Gray  ; 
Lacvna,  Turt. ;  Missoa,  Frem. ;  Eydrobia,  Hartm, ;  Assiminia, 
Leach. 
Family  17. — Paludinidic. 
Genera :  Palv.dina  (RiTer-SnaU)  (figs,  7,  21) ;  JBUhynia,  Gray ; 
Taialia,  Gray. 
Family  18. — Valmtidie. 

Genus :  Valmta  (fij.  45),  fresh-water. 
Family  19. — AmpuUarUlss. 
Genus :  AmpuUaria  (can  breathe  air  by  means  of  the  ■walls  of 
the  pallial  chamber  as  well  as  water  by  the  gill ;  fresh-waters 
of  tropical  .\merica,  Africa,  and  East  Indies). 
Subrordcr  2. — PncumoiwcMamyda. 
C/icrocJcrs. —Paffial  chamber  a  lung-sac;  no  gill;  mouth  on  a 
rostrum,  not  a  retractile  proboscis;  terrestrial  habit 

Famil?  20. — Cyclostomida. 
Genera:    Cydosloma,  Lam.;    CyclopJuirus,  Montf.;   FerusnTm, 
GrateL ;  ftgjina,  Vjgnard. 
Family  21. — Eelicinidx  (radula  ihipidoglossate  rather  than  ttenio- 
glossate).  .  TT  7.  • 

Genera :    Stoastoma,  Adams ;    Trochatella,  Swains. ;   Heltana, 
Lam.;  Proserpina,  Guild. 
Family  22. — Aciailidm. 
Genera :  Adcula,  Hartm. ;  Oeomelania,  Pfr. 


Sub-order  3. — Siptionochlamyda. 
Characters, — Eeptant  Azygobranchia  with  the  margin  of  the 
mantle  drawn  out  to  form  a  tiough-liko  sichon  which  notches  the 
lip  of  the  shell ;  shell  always  epix'al ;  usually  an  operculum,  homy 
or  lamelliform ;  either  a  rostrum  or  a  retractile  proboscis ;  exclusively 
marine ;  mostly  carnivorous. 

* Tanioglossa,  (3.1.3). 
Family  1. — Stromiidec. 
Genera :    Stromhus,   L. ;   Pkreceras,    Lam. ;  Bostellariai   Lam. 
(fig.  43). 
Family  2. — Aporrhaidas. 

Genus :  Aporrhais,  Da  Costa. 
Family  3. — Pedicularidw. 

Genus :  Pedicularia,  Swains. 
Family  4. — Dolidee. 
Genera :  Cassis,  Lam.;  Cassidaria,  Lam.:  Dolium,  Lam.;  Fiaita, 
Swains. 
Family  6. — Tritonids. 

Genera :  Tritonium,  Cuv.  (fig.  42) ;  Eanclla,  Lam. 
Family  6. — Cyprmidae  (the  Cowries). 
Genera :  Cypresa,  L. ;  Owilum,  Brag.  (fig.  41) ;  Erato,  Eisso. 
"Toxiglossa  (1.0.1). 
Family  7.  — Conidm. 
Genus  :  Conies,  L. 
Family  8. — Tercbrideg. 

Genus :  Tcrebra,  Adans. 
Family  9. — Plcuroiomidm. 

Genus :  Pleurotoma,  Lam. 
Family  10. — Cancellaridm. 
Genus :  CaTiceUaria,  Lam. 

* Sttchiglossa  (1.1.1  or  .1.). 
Family  11. — Murtcidss. 
Genera :  Murcx,  L.  ;  Trophon,  Montf  ;  Pusus,  Bmg. ;  Pyrula, 
Lam.  (fig.  38);  Turbinella,  Lam. 
Family  12. — Buccinids. 
Genera:  Buccinum,  L.;  Nassa,  Lam.  (fig.  B);  Purpura,  Brag, 
(fig.  47);  ConchoUpas,  Lam.;  ilagilus,  Montf. 
I  Family  13.— itUrida. 

I      Genua :  Milra,  Lam.  

XVL  —  83 


650. 


MOLLUSCA 


y^:-  o7!E  AircmC* 


Family  ii.—Olivide. 

Genera  :  Oliva,  Brag. ;  Andlla,  Lam. ;  Sarpa,  Lam. 
Family  15. — VolrUidw. 

Genera :    Valuta,   L. ;    Oymbivm,  Montf. ;   Margi'iiaHa,  Lam. ; 
Volvarui  Lam. 

Further  Jtetnarh  on  the  Reptant  Azygo'.ra.nchia. — The 
very  large  assemblage  of  foi-ms  coming  iijider  this  order 
comprise  the  most  highly  developed  predaoeous  searsnails, 
numerous   vegetaiian  species,  a  considerable  number  of 


^W:!^-r^i-v7r--.    ; 


retractor  muscle  of  t,ho  foot,  ■whioh  cliugs  t~  tbr;  spiral 
column  or  co'ujn:iUa  of  the  shell  (see  Eg.  42).  This  col- 
umella muscle  is  the  sar:ie  thing  as  the  muscular  Burfacs 
marked  c  in  the  figures  of  Patella,  marked  h  in  fig.  91  of 
Nautilus,  and  the  posterior  adductor  of  Lamellibranohs 
(fig.  131). 

The  surface  of  the  neck  is  covered  by  integument  forming 
the  floor  of  the  branchial  cavity.    It  has  not  been  cut  inta' 


< 


Pio.  87. — A-  TrUon  varicgatum,  to  show  tho  proboscis 
In  a  state  of  ' 

fold  of  the  mantle-skirt .     . 

Ing  on  the  ehell ;  c,  cephalic  eye ;  d,  cephalic  tcntacla 
introvert  (proboscis) ;  /  foot ;  g,  operculum 


icgatum,  to  show  tho  proboscis  or  bnccai  mtrovrjrt  ^ 

a,  siphonal  notch  of  the  shell  occupied  by  the  siphonai 

rt  (Si  phono  chlamyda) ;  h,  edge  of  the  mantle-skirt  rest- 

'    "  '         .  -■-  -.--^--■.- -    [^  everted  buccal 

wider  snrfece  of 

tle'-skirt  forming  the  roof  of'the  sub-pallial  chamber.    D.  Sole  of  the 

foot  of  Pyrula  tu&a,  to  show  a,  the  pore  uaoally  said  to  be  "aqniferoua" 
but  probably  the  orifice  of  a  gland  ;  b,  median  line  of  foot 

fresh-water,  and  some  terrestrial  fcrms.  The  partial  dis- 
section of  a  malo  specimen  of  the  Coaunon  Periwinkle, 
Littorina  liUoraliSy  drawn  in  fig.  46,  will  serve  to  exljibit 
the  disposition  of  viscera  which   prevails   in  tho  group. 


<'^ 


5  (T,  (t-.'jitl  <not  Introvereible);  1 
ud  laeao-podium,— to  the  right  < 
;ulptuiwi  opsrcolmn. 


Pio.  St).— Animal  mi  shf  11  of  Monu  r-u.'i 
cephalic  tentacles ;  c,  Tight  eye ;  d,  pro- ! 
thie  is  seen  the  metapoiiium  bearing  Lho  e 

Of  the  organs  Ijing  on  the  reflected  mantle-skirt,  that  which 
in  the  natural  state  lay  nearest  to  the  vas  deferens  on  the 
right  side  of  the  median  line  of 
the  roof  of  the  branchial  r  hambar 
is  the  rectum  i\  ending  in  tho 
anus  a.  It  can  be  traced  back  to 
the  intestine  t  near  the  surface  of 
the  visceral  hump,  and  it  is  found 
that  the  apex  of  the  coil  formed 
by  the  hump  is  occupied  by  the 
liver  h  and  the  stomach  v.  Phar 
rynx  and  cjsophagus  are  con- 
cealed in  the  hea/J.  The  enlarged 
glandular  structure  of  the  walla 
of  the  rectum  is  frequent  in  the 
Azygobranchia,  as  is  also  though 
not  universally  the  gland  marked 
y,  next  to  the  rectum.  It  is  the 
adrectai  gland,  and  in  the  genera 
Hares  and  Purpura  secretes  a 
colourless    liquid     which    turns 

Vm.  88.-AnlmaI  and  thel!  of  Fyrvla  lanigala.    a,  siphon ;  h,  head-tentacles ;  C,  head,  tho  letter  placed  near  the  right  PU^p's  "^pon  exposure  to  the  at- 
eye;  ff,  the  foot,  expanded  as  in  crawling ;»,  the  nmntle-skirtreaeoted  over  the  sides  of  the  shea    (From  Owen,    mosphcrs,   and   waS   USOd   by  tuO 

he  bi-duchial  chamber  formed  by  tho  mantle-skirt  over-     ancients  as  a  dye. 

Near  thi-j,  and  less 
advanced   into  the 
branchial  chamber, 
is  the  single  renal 
organ    or     nepbri 
dium    r    with     ' 
openinf;  to  tho  i 
terior  »■'.  Internally 
this    glandular   sa ; 
presents    a   second 
slit   or  aperture 
which  leads  into  the 
per;c-j-dium   (oa   is 
n^  n   found    to   be 
the  case  in  all  Mol-    to  aii' 
lusca).     This  heart    '"'" 
e  lying  in  the  pericardium  is  seen  in  close  proximity  tgj 


hanging  the  head  has  been  exposed  by  cutting  along  a  line 
extending  backward  from  the  letters  vd  to  tho  base  of  the 
columella  muscle  mc,  and  the  whole  roof  of  the  chamber 
thus  detached  from  the  right  side  of  the  animal's  neck  has 
been  thrown  over  to  the  left,  showing  tho  organs  which  lie 
tipon  the  roof.  No  opening  into  the  body-cavity  has  been 
made;  the  organs  which  lio  in  the  coiled  visceral  hump 
show  through  its  transparent  walls.  The  head  is  seen  in 
front  resting  on  the  foot  and  carrying  a  median  non-retractile 
finout  or  rostrum,  and  a  pair  of  cephalic  tsntacltj  at  the 
base  of  each  of  which  is  an  eye.  In  many  Gastropoda  the 
jyea  are  not  thus  sessile  but  raised  upon  special  eye-tentacles 
(figs.  43,  69).  To  the  right  of  the  head  is  seen  the  muscular 
penis  p  close  to  the  termination  of  the  vas  deferens  (sper- 
matic duct)  vd.  The  testis  I  occupies  a  median  position  in 
the  coiled  visceral  mass.  Behind  the  penis  on  the  same 
ude  is  tho  hookliko  columella  muscle,  a  development  of  the 


Shell  of  CalyptTffa,  Fcen  from  below  60  a^ 
r  tlic  inner  whcrl  &,  concealed  by  the  cap* 


IZTOOBRAKCHUll 


MOLLUSC  A 


651 


the  renal  organ,  and  consists  of  a  single  anricle  receiving 
blood  from  the  gill,  and  of  a  single  ventricle  which  pumps 
it  through  the  body  by  an  anterior  and  posterior  aorta 
(see  fig.  105).  The 
surface  x  of  the 
mantle  between  the 
rectum  and  the  gill- 
plume  is  thrown 
into  folds  which 
in  many  sea-snails 
(Whelks,  &c.)  are 
very  stronely  deve- 

\^J^A       tS^   _v  1    Fro.  4J.— Ani'mal  and  slicU  of  Ovnloo.    t,  cepbaKo 

lopea.       ine   Wnole     Uutacles;  d,  foot;  *,  mantle-skirt.  wWch  is  natu- 

of  this  surface  au-     «Uy  carried  in  e  reflected  conditioa  so  as  to 

.  ^       cover  in  the  sides  of  the  EnelL 

pears  to  be  active 

in  the  secretion  of  a  mucous-like  substance.  The  single 
gill-plume  br  lies  to  the  left  of  the  median  line  in  natural 
position.  It  corresponds  to  the 
right  of  the  two  primitive  cten- 
idia  in  the  untwisted  archaic 
condition  of  the  Molluscan  body, 
and  does  not  project  freely  into 
the  branchial  cavity,  but  its 
asds  is  attached  (by  concres- 
cence) to  the  mantle-skirt  (roof 
of  the  branchial  chamber).  It 
is  rare  for  the  gill-plume  of  an 
Anisopleurous  Gastropod  to 
etand  out  freely  as  a  plume, 
but  occasionally  this  more  ar- 
chaic condition  is  exhibited,  as 
in  Valvata  (fig.  45).  Next  be- 
yond (to  the  left  of)  the  gill- 
plume  we  find  the  so-called  para- 
branchia,  which  is  here  simple, 
but  sometimes  lamellated  as  in 
Purpura  ("-g.  47).  This  organ 
has,  without  reason,  been  sup- 
posed  to  repre3ent  the  second  p,„  42.-s!Jtion  of  th,  d.eii' of 

Ctemoiumot  the  typical  Mollusc,     Tritonium,  Cut.    o,  apei ;  oc,  si- 

which  it  cannot  do  on  account    L^uto"  to^?L?n" hTttle'S- 

of   its  position.        It   should  be     ".  ".  "horU  of  the  shell ;  s,  s,  sn- 

^4.1 ■„!.*      e   i.1.  turea.    Occupying  the  axis,  and 

tne  ngnt  or  tne  anus  were     exposed  by  the  section,  is  seen  the 

this  the  case.   Recently  Spengel    r"'™'t,'^T"''7ff^k''n'^-   '"'^ 

fc  ,     .  ^  t  npper  whorla  of  the  shell  are  Been 

nas    shown    that   the   parabran-     to  be  divided  into  eeparate  Cham- 

;cWa  of  Gastropods  is  the  typical    STv^iy^o'JSed^se^S."'  ff^S 
olfactory  organ  or  osphradium    Owen.) 
|in  a  highly-developed  condition      The  minute  structure 
'of  the  epithelium  which  clothes  it,  aa  well  as  the  origin  of 


^a  48.— Animal  and  shell  of  Bost^Iarta  rtetinstrU.  a,  snont  or  mstrum ; 
t  b,  cephalic  tent&cle ;  c,  eye ;  d,^ropodinm  and  mesopodiom ;  e,  metapodinm ; 
/,  opercnlnm ;  h',  prolonged  siphonal  notch  of  the  sheU  occopied  by  the 
i  siphon,  or  trongh-ljice  process  of  the  nujitle-skirt.    (From  Owen-) 

tie  nerve  which  is  distributed  to  the  parabranchia,  proves 
jit  to  be  the  same  organ  which  is  found  universally  in  Mol- 


luscs at  the  base  of  each  gill-plume,  and  te°ts  the  indrawn 
current  of  water  by  the  sense  of  smell.     The  nerve  to  thi» 


organ  is  given  off  from  the  superior  (original  right,  sea 
fig.  1 9)  visceral  ganglion. 

The  figures  which  are  here  given  of  various  Azygo- 
branchia  are  in  most  cases  suffi- 
ciently explained  by  the  refer- 
ences attached  to  them.  As  an 
excellent  general  type  of  the 
nervous  system,  attention  may 
be  directed  to  that  of  Paludina  i 
drawn  in  fig.  21.  On  the  whole, 
the  ganglia,  are  strongly  indivi- 
dualized in  the  Azygobranchia, 
nerve-cell  tissue  being  concen- 
trated in  the  ganglia  and  absent  f,o.  45.— rajtmii  mstaia,  moil 
from  the  cords  (contrast  with  Zy-    •>•  "'.°9"'  -yp-  opercuinm ;  br, 

,  ,.  J    T       1  \        *i     ctcmdiom  (branchial  plume) ;  *i 

gobranctua  and    Isopleura).      At     SUform  appendage  (?  rudiment- 

the  same  time,  the  junction  of  jXTcSL!l"?,?fSrf?S 
the  visceral  loop  above  the  in-    not  having  its  axis  fused  to  ti» 

A. *;..„ „„.»„-,   ;«    „n    c*.       d.         roof  of  the  branchial  chamber  is 

testine    prevents    m    all    StreptO-     the    notable   character  of  thi» 

neura  the  shortening  of  the  vis-  b"""- 
cral  loop,  and  it  is  rare  to  find  a  fusion  of  the  visceral 
ganglia  with  either  pleural,  pedal,  or  cerebral — a  fusion 
which  cau  and  does 
take  place  where  the 
visceral  loop  is  not 
above  but  below  the 
intestine,  e.g.,  in  the 
Euthyneura  (fig.  67), 
Cephalopoda(fig.ll2), 
and  LameUibranchia 
(fig.  144).  As  con-  i 
trasted  with  the  Zygo- 
branchia  and  the  Iso- 
pleura, we  find  that  in 
the  A^gobranchia  the 
pedal  nerves  are  dis- 
tinctly nerves  given  off 
from  the  pedal  ganglia, 
rather  than  cord-Uke 
nerve -tracts  contain- 
ing both  nerve -cells 
or  ganglionic  elements 
and  nerve-fibres.  Yet 
in  some  Azygobran- 
chia fPaludina)  a  lad-  F">-  46.— Mala  of  Littorinn  ttUmilis,  Lin.,  n^ 
J       ,:,  '  moved  from  its  shell;  the  mantle-skirt  cut  along 

aer-llke  arrangement  its  right  Une  of  attachment  and  thrown  over 
nf  tliB  twn  npdal  to  the  left  side  of  the  aninml  so  as  l«  expose  tha 
01  tne  two  peaai  organs  on  its  inner  face.  a,anus ;  (,  intesUno; 
nerves  and  their  lateral     r,  nephridium  (kidney);  t\  aperture  01  tho 

1 ^„„i ..  1 „  v^ ^«  Ar.       nephridium:    c,    heart;    br,    ctenidium   (giU- 

branches  has  been  de-  piJ^e,;  pt,:_  pkrabrancUia  (=thc  osphradium 
te<-;ted  (30).  The  his-  or  ollactory  patch);  i,  glandular  lamellae  of 
.    ,  ^  £   ii.  the  inner  fece  of  the  mantle-skirt ;  i),  adrectal 

tOlOgy  01  the  nervous  (pnrpuriparous)  gland ;  (,  testis ;  vd,  vas  de- 
Rvst^m  nf  Arnllnwa.  ferens;  p.pcnls;  mc,columellarauscle(muscular 
system  01  MOUUSCa  pjo^jjJglJspio^tgshell);  •>,  stomach  ;>,liver. 
has  yet  to  be  sen-  y.B.  Note  the  simple  snout  or  rostrum  not  in- 
OUsly  inquired  into.         txovened  as  a -proboscis." 

The  alimentary  canal  of  the  Azygobranchia  presents 
little  diversity  of  character,  except  in  so  far  as  the  buccal 
region  is  concerned.  Salivary  glands  are  present,  and  in 
some  canuToroua  forma  (Dolium)  these  secrete  freejgk 


652 


MOLLUSCA 


[AZTCOBl^AJfCElO 


of  the  animal  so  as  to  expose 
the  organg  on  its  inner  face. 
a,  anuy  ;  vg,  vagina ;  g^,  adrec- 
tal  piirpuripaioua  gland ;  r', 
apprtuic  of  the  nuphridimn  (kid- 
ney); br,  etenidium  (branchial 
plUiiie):  fc/,  parabranchia(  =  the 
corab-like  osphradium  or  olfac- 
tory organ). 


phuric  acid  (as  much  as  two  per  cent  is  present  in  the 
uecretion),  which  assists  the  animal  in  boring  holes  by 
means  of  its  rasping  tongue  through  the  shells  of  other 
Molluscs  upon  which  it  preys.  A  crop-like  dilatation  of 
the  gut  and  a  recurved  intestine,  embedded  in  the  com- 
pact yellowish-brown  liver,  the  ducts  of  which  open  into  it, 
form  the  rest  of  the  digestive  tract  and  occupy  a  large 
bulk  of  the  visceral  hump.  The  buccal  region  presents  a 
pair  of  sheUy  jaws  placed  laterally  upon  the  lips,  and  a 
wide'  range  of  variation  in  the  form  of  the  denticles  of  the 
lingual  ribbon  or  radula,  the  nature  of  which  will  be  un- 
derstood by  a  reference  to  fig.  9,  whilst  the  systematic  list 
of  families  given  above  shows  the  particular  form  of  den- 
tition characteristic  of  each  division  of  the  order. 

The  modJ-ficatiou  in  the  form  of  the  snout  upon  which 
thn  mouth  is  placed,  leading  to  the 
distinction  of  "  proboscidif erous  " 
and  "  rostriferous  "  Gastropods,  re- 
quires further  notice.     The  condi- 
tion usually  spoken  of  as  a  "  pro- 
boscis "  appears  to  be  derived  from 
the  condition  of  a  simple  rostrum 
(having  the  mouth  at  its  extrem- 
ity) by  the  process  of  incomplete  _ 
introversion  of  that  simple  rostrum.          '".^-A.      I  irvV  ^'' 
There  is  no  reason  in  the  actual  „ 

•  c  J.    .-,  1       T       ^1      Fig,  47.— Female  of  Purpum  ?a 

Slgnincance   Ot    tae   word  why  the     yiWus  removed  from  its  shell 

term  "proboscis"  should  be  applied    f","  manticsidrt  cut  along  it 

\  .  .,  f  ^       ,      left   Ime   of  attachment   and 

to  &"  alternately  mtroversible  and  tiu-mtn  overto  the  rieht  side 
evarsible  tube  connected  with  an 
animal's  body,  and  yet  such  is  a 
very  customary  use  of  the  term. 
The  introversible  tube  may  be 
completely  closed,  as  in  the  "  i)ro- 
boscis"  of  Nemertean  worms,  or 
it  may  have  a  passage  in  it  leading  into  a  non-eversible 
oesophagus,  as  in  the  present  case,  and  in  the  case  of  the 
eversible  pharynx  of  the  predatory  Chaetopod  worms.  The 
diagrams  here  introduced  (fig.  48)  are  intended  to  show 
certain  important  distinctions  which  obtain  amongst  the 
-various  "introverts,"  or  intro-  and  e-versible  tubes  so  fre- 
quently met  with  in  animal  bodies.  Supposing  the  tube 
to  be  completely  introverted  and  to  commence  its  ever- 
eion,  we  then  find  that  eversion  may  take  place,  either 
by  a  forward  movement  ot  the  side  of  the  tube  near  its 
attached  base,  as  in  the  proboscis  of  the  Nemertine  worms, 
the  pharynx  of  Cha:topod3,  and  the  eye-tentacle  of  Gastro- 
pods, or,  by  a  forward  movement  of  the  inverted  apex 
of  the  tube,  as  in  the  proboscis  of  the  Ehabdocoel  Plauar- 
ians,  and  in  that  of  Gastropods  here  under  consideration. 
The  former  case  we  call  "  pleurecbolio  "  (fig.  48,  A,  B,  C, 
H,  I,  K),  the  latter  "acrecboUc"  tubes  or  introverts  (fig. 
48,  p,  E,  F,  G).  It  is  clear  that,  if  we  start  from  the 
condition  of  full  eversion  of  the  tube  and  watch  the  pro- 
cess of  introversion,  we  shall  find  that  the  plcurccbolic 
variety  is  introverted  by  the  apes  of  the  tube  sinking  in- 
wards; it  may  be  callod  acrembolic,  whilst  conversely  the 
acrccbolic  tubes  are  pleurembolic.  Further,  it  is  obvious 
enough  that  the  process  either  of  introversion  or  of  eversion 
Of  the  tulje  may  be  arrested  at  any  point,  by  the  develop- 
wcp.t  of  fibres  connecting  the  wall  of  the  introverted  tube 
■with  the  wall  of  the  body,  or  mth  an  axial  structure  such 
as  the  oesophagus ;  on  the  other  hand,  the  range  of  move- 
ment of  the  tubular  introvert  may  be  unlimited  or  complete. 
The  acrembolic  proboscis  or  frontal  introvert  of  the  Nemer- 
tine worms  has  a  complete  range.  So  has  the  acrembolic 
pharynx  of  Chstopods,  if  we  consider  the  organ  as  ter- 
minating at  that  point  where  the  jaws  are  placed  and  the 
oesophagus  commences.  So  too  the  aurembolic  eye-tentacle 
of  the  snail  has  a  comjilele  range  of  movement,  and  also  the 


pleurembolic  proboscis  of  the  Eiabdoccel  prostoma.  The 
introverted  rostrum  of  the  Azygobranch  Gastropods  pre- 
sents in  contrast  to  these  a  limited  range  of  moveipent. 
The  "  introvert "  in  these  Gastropods  is  not  the  pharynx  as 
in  the  Chsetopod  worms,  but  a  pree-oral  stmctiue,  its  apical 
limit  being  formed  by  the  true  lips  and  jaws,  T/lulst  tho 
apical  limit  of  the  Ch:Etopod's  introvert  is  formed  by  the 
jaws  placed  at  the  junction  of  pharynx  and  oesophagus,  so 
that  the  Chaatopod's  introvert  is  part  of  the  stomodKum 
or  fore-gut,  whilst  that  of  the  Gastropod  is  e:!:temal  to  the 
alimentary  canal  altogether,  being  in  front  of  the  mouth, 
not  behind  it,  as  is  tho  Chjetopod's.  Further,  the  Gastro- 
pod's introvert  is  pleurembolic  (and  therefore  acrecboUc), 
and  is  limited  both  in  eversion  and  in  introversion  j  it  can- 


Fia.  4S. — DU»grania  explanatory  of  the  natur*  of  so-called  proboscldes  or  "intra- 
verls."  A.  Simple  introvert  completely  introverted.  B,  The  same,  partially 
everted  by  eversion  of  the  sides,  as  in  the  Nemertine  proboscis  and  Gastropod 
eye-tentaclc^pleurccbolic.  C.  Tlie  same,  fully  everted.  D,  E.  A  similar 
simple  introvert  in  course  of  eversion  by  the  forward  movement,  not  of  ita 
sides,  but  of  its  apex,  iS  in  the  proboscidean  Rbabdoccel3=acrecbolic.  P. 
AcrecboUc  (= pleurembolic)  introvert,  formed  by  the  snout  of  the  proboscidl- 
ferous  Gastropod,  al,  alimentary  caual ;  d,  the  true  mouth,  Tlie  introvert 
is  not  a  simple  one  v;ith  complete  range  both  in  eversion  and  introvereion, 
but  is  arrested  in  introvoi-sion  by  the  fibrous  bands  at  c,  and  similarly  in 
eversion  by  the  fibrous  bands  at  I:  0.  The  acrecboUc  snout  of  a  pivbos- 
cidifcroua  Gastropod,  arrested  b'l  ■  '  (,■■  virsion  by  the  fibrous  band 
&.    H.  The  acrembolic  (spUmr  ..fa  Chxtopod  fully  intro- 

verted,   ai,  alimentary  canal ;  :l:  ",  the  mouth ;  therefore  o 

to  d  is  storaodtcum,  vi'hereas  in  Ul.    i    ,  ,  ;.  ,  -  i  tt)n  to  d  is  inverted  body- 
surface.    I,  Partial  eversion  ot  11.     k,  i.„mpKlu  eversion  otH,    (Original,) 

not  be  completely  everted  owing  to  the  muscular  bands 
(fig.  43,  G),  nor  can  it  be  fully  introverted  owing  to  the  bands 
(fig.  4S,  I')  which  tie  the  axial  pharynx  to  the  adjacent 
wall  of  the  apical  part  of  the  introvert.  As  in  all  such 
intro-  and  e-versible  organs,  eversion  of  tho  Gastropod 
proboscis  is  efi'eclcd  by  pressure  communicated  by  the 
muscular  body-wall  to  the  liquid  contents  (blood)  of  the 
body-space,  accompanied  by  the  relaxation  of  the  muscles 
v.-hich  directly  pull  upon  either  tho  sides  or  tho  apex  of 
the  tubular  orgau.  The  inTcrsion  of  the  proboscis  is  effected 
directly  by  tho  contraction  of  these  muscles.  In  various 
members  of  the  Ajrrgobranchia  the  mouth-beariug  cylinder 
is  introversible  (I'.e ,  i."  n  proLoscis) — ■with  rare  exceptions 
these  forms  have  a  siphonate  mantle-skirt.  On  the  other 
hand,  many  which  have  a  siphonate  mantle-skirt  are  not 
provided  with  an  introversible  moulh-bcaring  cylinder;  but 
have  a  simple  nou-introversible  rostrum,  as  it  has  beeni 


JUTGOBKANCEIA.] 


MOLLUSCA 


653 


tensed,  which,  is  also  the  condition  presented  by  the  mouth- 
,  bearing  region  in  nearly  all  other  Gastropoda.  One  of  the 
best  examples  of  the  introversible  mouth-cylinder  or  pro- 
iboscis  which  can  be  found  is  that  of  the  Common  VSTielk 
'4nd  its  immediate  allies.  In  fig.  37  the  proboscis  is  seen 
in  an  everted  state ;  it  is  only  so  carried  when  feeding, 
being  withdrawn  when  the  animal  is  at  rest.  Probably 
its  use  is  to  enable  the  animal  to  introduce  its  rasping 
and  licking  apparatus  into  very  narrow  apertures  for  the 
purpose  of  feeding,  e.g.,  into  a  small  hole  bored  in  the  shell 
of  another  Mollusc. 

The  foot  of  the  Azygobranchia,  unlike  the  simple  mus- 
cular disc  of  the  Isopleura  and  Zygobranchia,  is  very  often 
divided  into  lobes,  a  fore,  middle,  and  hind  lobe  (pro-, 
meso-,  and  meta-podium,  see  figs.  39  and  43).  Very  usually, 
but  not  universally,  the  meta-podium  carries  an  operculum. 
The  division  of  the  foot  into  lobes  is  a  simple  case  of  that 
much  greater,  elaboration  or  breaking  up  into  processes  and 
regions  which  it  undergoes  in  the  class  Cephalopoda.  Even 
among  some  Gtastropoda  (viz.,  the  Opisthobranchia),  we 
find  the  lobation  of  the  foot  still  further  carried  out  by 
the  development  of  lateral  lobes,  the  epipodia,  whilst  there 
are  many  Azygobranchia,  on  the  other  hand,  in  which  the 
foot  has  a  simple  oblong  form  without  any  trace  of  lobes. 

The  development  of  the  Azygobranchia  from  the  egg  has 
been  followed  in  several  examples,  e.g.,  Paludina,  Purpura, 
Nassa,  Vermetus,  Neritina.  As  in  other  Molluscan  gcoups, 
we  find  a  wide  variation  in  the  early  process  of  the  forma- 
tion of  the  first  embryonic  cells,  and  their  arrangement  as 
a  Diblastula  dependent  on  the  greater  or  less  amount  of 
food-yelk  which  is  present  in  the  egg-cell  when  it  com- 
mences its  embryonic  changes.  In  fig.  7,  the  early  stages 
of  Paludina  viuipara  are  represented.  There  b  but 
very  little  food-material  in  the  egg  of  this  Azygobranch, 
and  consequently  the  Diblastula  forms  by  invagination ; 
the  blastopore  or  orifice  of  invagination  coincides  ■nith  the 
anus,  and  never  closes  entirely.  A  well-marked  Trocho- 
Bphere  is  formed  by  the  development  of  an  equatorial 
ciliated  band ;  and  subsequently,  by  the  disproportionate 
growth  of  the  lower  hemisphere,  the  Trochosphere  becomes 
a  Veliger.  The  primitive  shell-sac  or  sheU-gland  is  well 
marked  at  this  stage,  and  the  pharynx  is  seen  as  a  new 
ingrowth  (the  stomodaeum),  about  to  fuse  with  and  open 
into  the  primitively  iavaginated  arch-enteron  (fig.  7,  F). 

In  other  Azygobranchs  (and  such  variations  are  repre- 
sentative for  all  Mollusca,  and  not  characteristic  only  of 
Azygobranchia),  we  find  that  there  is  a  very  unequal 
division  of  the  egg-cell  at  the  commencement  of  embryonic 
development,  as  in  Nassa  (fig.  5).  Consequently  there  is 
strictly  speaking  no  invagination  (emboly),  but  an  over- 
growth (epiboly)  of  the  smaller  cells  to  enclose  the  larger. 
The  general  features  of  this  process  and  of  the  relation  of 
the  blastopore  to  mouth  and  anus  have  been  explained 
above  in  treating  of  the  development  of  Mollusca  generally. 
In  such  cases  the  blastopore  may  entirely  close,  and  both 
mouth  and  anus  develop  as  new  ingrowths  (stomodseum 
and  proctodoeum),  whilst,  according  to  the  observations  of 
Bobrotzky,  the  closed  blastopore  may  coincide  in  position 
with  the  mouth  in  some,  instances  (Nassa,  itc),  instead  of 
with  the  anus.  But  in  these  epibolic  forms,  just  as  in  the 
embolic  Paludina,  the  embryo  proceeds  to  develop  its  cili- 
ated band  and  shell-gland,  passing  through  the  earlier  con- 
dition of  a  Trochosphere  to  that  of  the  Veliger.  In  the 
▼eliger  stage  many  Azygobranchia  (Purpura,  Nassa,  (tc.) 
exhibit,  in  the  dorsal  region  behind  the  head,  a  contractile 
area  of  the  body-wall.  This  acts  as  a  laF\'al  heart,  but 
ceases  to  pulsate  after  a  time.  Similar  rhythmically  con- 
tractile areas  are  found  on  the  foot  of  the  embryo  Pulmo- 
nale Limax  and  on  the  yelk-sac  (distended  foot-surface), 
of  the  Cephalopod  Loligo  (see  fig.  72**). 


The  history  of  the  shell  in  the  development  of  Azygo- 
branchia (and  other  Gastropods)  is  important.  Just  as 
the  primitive  shell-sac  aborts  and  gives  place  to  a  cap-like 
or  boat^like  shell,  so  in  some  cases  (Marsenia,  Krohn)  has 
this  first  shell  been  observed  to  be  shed,  and  a  second  shell 
of  different  shape  is  formed  beneath  it. 

/-  detailed  treatment  of  what  is  known  of  the  histo- 
genesis in  relation  to  the  cell-layers  in  these  Mollusca  would 
take  us  far  beyond- the  limits  of  this  article,  which  aims  at 
exposing  only  the  well-ascertained  characteristic  features 
of  the  Mollusca  and  the  various  subordinate  groups.  There 
is  still  a  great  deficiency  in  our  knowledge  of  the  develop- 
ment of  the  Gastropoda,  as  indeed  of  all  classes  of  animab. 
The  development  of  the  gill  (ctenidium)  as  well  as  of  the 
renal  organ,  and  details  as  to  the  process  of  torsion  of  the 
visceral  hump,  are  still  quite  insufficiently  known. 

One  fm  ther  feature  of  the  development  cf  the  Azygobran- 
chia deserves  special  mention.  Many  Gastropoda  deposit 
their  eggs,  after  fertilization,. enclosed  in  capsules;  others,  as 
Paludina,  are  viviparous ;  others,  again,  as  the  Zygobranchia, 
agree  with  the  Lamellibranch  Conchifcra  (the  Bivalves)  in 
having  simple  exits  for  the  ova  without  glandular  walls, 
and  therefore  discharge  their  eggs  unenclosed  in  capsules 
freely  into  the  sea-water;  such  unencapsuled  eggs  are 
merely  enclosed  each  in  its  own  delicate  chorion.  When 
egg-capsules  are  formed  they  are  often  of  large  size,  have 
tough  walls,  and  in  each  capsule  are  several  eggs  floating 
in  a  viscid  fluid.  In  some  cases  all  the  eggs  in  a  capsule 
develop ;  in  other  cases  one  egg  only  in  a  capsule  (Neri- 
tina), or  a  small  proportion  (Purpura,  Buccinum),  advance 
in  development ;  the  rest  are  arrested  either  after  the  first 
process  of  cell-division  (cleavage)  or  before  that  process. 
The  arrested  embryos  or  eggs  are  then  swallowed  and 
digested  by  those  in  the  same  capsule  which  have  advanced 
in  development.  The  details  of  this  history  requiie  renewed 
study,  our  present  knowledge  of  it  being  derived  from  the 
works  of  Keren  and  Danielssen,  Carpenter  and  Claparide. 
In  any  case  it  is  clearly  the  same  process  in  essence  as  that 
of  the  formation  of  a  vitellogenous  gland  from  part  of  the 
primitive  ovary,  or  of  the  feeding  of  an  ovarian  egg  by 
the  absorption  of  neighbouring  potential  eggs ;  but  here 
the  period  at  which  the  sacrifice  of  one  egg  to  another 
takes  place  is  somewhat  late.  What  it  is  that  determines 
the  arrest  of  some  eggs  and  the  progressive  development 
of  others  in  the  same  capsule  is  at  present  unknown. 

Section  h  (of  the  Azygobranchia).— AOi  TANTIA. 

Characters.  —  Azygobranchiate  Strcptoneura  which  havo  th9 
form  and  texture  of  the  body  adapted  to  a  frce-swTrnniing  pelagio 
habit.  They  appear  to  be  derived  from  holochlamydic  foiTES  of 
Reptant  Azygobranchia.  The  foot  takes  the  form  of  a  swimmin". 
organ.  Thererrous  system  and  sense-organs  (eyes,  otocysts,  and 
osphradi>iTii)  are  highly  developed.  The  odontopliore  also  is  re- 
markably developed,  its  admedian  teeth  being  mobile,  and  it  serves 
as  an  efficient  organ  for  attacking  other  pcla.i;ic  forms  upon  which 
the  Natantia  prey.  The  sexes  are  distinct  as  in  all  Streptoncura ; 
and  genital  ducts  and  accessory  glands  and  pouches  are  present  as 
in  all  Azygobranchia.  The  Natantia  exhibit  a  series  of  modifica- 
tion!! of  the  form  and  proportions  of  the  visceral  mass  and  foot, 
leading  from  a  condition  readily  comparable  with  that  of  a  typical 
Azygobranch  such  as  RostcUaria,  with  the  three  regions  of  the  foot 
(pro-,  meso-,  and  meta-podium)  strongly  marked,  and  a  coiled 
visceral  hump  of  the  usual  proportions,  up  to  a  condition  in  which 
the  whole  body  is  of  a  tapering  cylindrical  shape,  the  foot  a  platc- 
like  vertical  fin,  and  the  visceral  hump  almost  completely  atrophied. 
Three  steps  of  this  modification  may  be  distinguished  as  three  sub- 
orders, the  Ailanlacea,  the  Carinariacca,  and  the  PUrolrachcacea. 
Sub-order  1. — Atlanlacca. 

C7iaracfers.— Natantia  with  a  large  spirally-wound  visceral  hump, 
covered  by  a  hyaline  spiral  shell ;  mantle-skirt  large,  overhangms 
a  well-developed  sub-paliial  branchial  chamber  as  in  A^ygobi-anchia, 
to  the  wall  of  which  is  attached  tha  branchial  ctcniJium  ;  foot 
well  developed,  divisible  into  a  mobile  propodiiim,  a  mcsopodiuni 
on  which  is  formed  a  sucker,  and  a  metapodium  which,  when  the 
animtil  is  expanded,  extends  backwards  beyond  the  shell  and  visceral 


654 


MOLLUSCA 


[AZTGOBEANCHlia 


the  viscera]  looo  of  iha  lifataatia  ia  StrsBtonenror^  Special 
to  the  Natantia  is  the  liigli  elaboration  of  the  Ungual 
ribbon,  and,  as  an  agreement  with  some  of  the  Opistho- 
branchiata  Euthyneura  but  as  a  difference  from  the  Azygo. 
branchia,  we  find  the  otocysts  closely  attached  to  the  cerebral 
ganglia.     This  is,  however,  less  of  a  difference  than  it  waa 


Immp ;  npon  the  cppor  surface  of  the  met&podiam  h  developed  an 
<iporculum. 

Genera :  Atlanta,  OxyguTJU.    Probably  here  belong  the  Paljeozoic 
fossils  BellcTophtm. 

Sub-order  2. — Oarinariacea. 

Characters. — Visceral  hump  greatly  reduced  in  relative  size ; 
shell  small,  cap-like,  hyaline ; 
-ctenidium  (branchial  plume) 
projecting  from  Lbe  small  sub 
pailial  chamber ;  body  cylin 
flrical ;  of  the  foot-lobes  only 
the  mesopodjiun  is  prominent, 
provided  with  a  sucker,  and 
compressed  laterally  so  a.s  to 
form  a  vertical  plate -Uko  fin 
projecting  from  the  ventral 
surface ;  the  propodium  forms 
simply  the  ventral  surface  of 
the  anterior  region  of  the  cy- 
lindrical body  whilst  the  roe- 
tapodium  forms  its  posterior 
region. 

Genera :  Carirutria,  Cardio- 
poda- 

Snb-oi-der  3, — Ptcrotracheacea. 

Characters.  —  Visceral  hump 
still  further  reduced,  forming 
a  mere  oval  sac  embedded  in 
the  posterior  doi-sal  region  of 
the  cylindrical  body ;  no  shell ; 
foot  as  in  Carinariacea,  excent 
that  the  sucker  is  absent  from 
the  mesopodium  in  the  females. 

Genera  :  Pterotrachea,  Firu-  ^'"^  60.— Carinarto  midUtrranea.    A,  The  ammal,    B.  The  shell  removed.    0,  D,  Two  Tiews  of  the  shcD  of  Caidlopoda. 

Jffi^gs  ^  mouth  aud  w^ontophore  ;  6,  cephalic  tentacles  ;  c.  eye ;  d,  the  Qn-Iike  mesopodium ;  d',  its  sucker ;  e,  metapomum; 

/,  Balivary  glanda  ;  \  hoHer  of  the  mantle-e:ip ;  i,  cienidium  (gill-plume) ;  m,  stomach ;  n,  inteatijie ;  o,  anus ;  p,  liver 

Further  Jlemarlis  on  the     ''  '^'^  eprmgiug  from  the  ventricle  ;  u,  cerebral  ganBlion ;  i>,  pleural  and  pedal  ganglion ;  w,  testis ;  x,  \iscenil  gnngUoD 
,)  V..01.-111..  Damin,i.„  .  ™  pg[j^_    (From  Owen.) 


,  veaicula  seminali. 


Natantia  Azygobranchia. — 
liOgically  the  Natantia  should  stand  as  we  have  placed  them, 
viz.,  as  a  special  branch  or  section  of  the  Azygobranchia, 
related  to  them  somewhat  as  are  the  Birds  to  the  Reptiles. 
They  are  time  Azygobranchia  which  have  taken  to  a  pelagic 
life,  and  the  peculiarities  of  structure  which  they  exhibit 


Fio.  i^.—ACtanta  (Oxygum)  Kemwlrmil  (m.ignlBed  20  dlamnt*™).  a,  month 
and  odontophoro ;  6,  cephalic  tentacles ;  c,  eye ;  d,  propodium  (B)  and  moao- 
podium  ;  e.  metapodium ;  /  operculum  ;  It,  mantle-chamber ;  i,  ctenidium 
(gill-plume) ,  k,  retracwr  mnajlo  of  foof ;  l,  optic  tentwlp  :  m,  iWmach  ;  n, 
dorsal  surlace  overhung  by  the  m.intlo.nkirt,  the  letter  Is  close  to  the  salivary 
filand  ;  o,  rectum  and  anus  ;  p,  liver ;  (/,  renal  organ  (nephridium)!;  s,  ven- 
tricle ;  u,  the  otocyst  attached  to  the  cwobia!  ganglion  ;  w,  testis ;  a:,  auricle 
of  the  heart ;  y,  vesicle  on  gcuital  duct ;  b,  penis.    (From  Owen.) 

are  strictly  adaptations  of  tlie  otracture  common  to  them 
and  the  Azygobranchia  consequent  upon  their  changed 
mode  of  life.  Such  adaptations  are  the  transoarency  and 
colourlessness  of  the  tissues,  and  the  modifications  of  the 
foot,  which  still  shows  in  Atlanta  the  form  common  in 
Azygobranchia  (compare  fig,  49  and  fig.  39). 

The  cylindrical  bouy  ol  t'teroiracheuoea  la  paralleled  by 
the  slug-like  forms  of  Euthyneura.    Spengel  baa  shown  that 


at  one  time  supposed  to  be,  for  it  has  been  shown  by  Lacaze 
Duthiers,  and  also  by  Leydig,  that  the  otocysts  of  Azygo- 
branchia even  when  lying  close  upon  the  pedal  ganglion 
(as  in  fig.  21)  yet  receive  their  special  nerve  (which  can 
sometimes  be  readily  isolated)  from  the  cerebral  ganglion  (see 
fig,  36),  Accordingly  the  difierence  is  one  of  position  of  the 
otocyst  and  not  of  its  nerve-supply.  The  Natantia  are  further 
remarkable  for  the  high  development  of  their  cephalic  eyes, 
and  for  the  typical  character  of  their  osphradium  (Spengel'a 
olfactory  organ).  This  is  a  groove,  the  edges  of  which  are 
raised  and  ciHated,  lying  near  the  branchial  phuno  in 
the  genera  which  possess  that  organ,  whilst  in  Firuloides, 
which  has  no  branchial  plume,  the  osphradium  occupies  a 
corresponding   position.     Beneath  the  ciliated  groove  is 


Fio.  61. — Pterotmchen  mvltca.  e 
of  the  snout  when  retracted  : 
g,  cerebral  p.inglion  ;   ff",  plei 


stomach ;  i 
to,  osphradii 


B  from  the  right  side,    a,  pouch  for  reception 

pericardium  ;  ph,  pharynx  ;  oc,  ceph.ilic  eye ; 

dal  ganglion  ;  pr,  foot  (mesopodium) ; 


:  ml,  foot  (metapodium) ;  s,  caudal  appen  Jage.    (After  Kefer* 


placed  an  elongated  ganglion  (olfactory  ganglion)  connected 
by  a  nerve  to  the  supra-intestinal  (therefore  the  primitively 
dextral)  ganglion  of  the  long  visceral  nerve-loop,  the  strands 
of  which  cross  one  another, — this  being  characteristic  of 
Streptoneura  (Spengel). 

The  Natantia  belong  to  the  "  nehjgic  fauna  "  occurring 
near  the  surface  in  the  Mediterranean  and  great  oceans  in 
company  with  the  Ptoropoda,  the  Siphonophorous  Hydrozoa,' 
Salpae,  Leptocephali,  and  other  specially-modified  trans- 
parent swimming  representatives  of  various  groups  of  the 
animal  kingdom.  In  development  they  pass  through  the 
typical  trocLosphere  (mj  veliger  stages  p rovided  with  bont* 
like  sheU. 


Bfisihobkanchia.]  MOLLUSCA 

Branch  h.—EUTETNEUBA  (Spengel,  1881). 

Characters.  —  Gastropoda  Anisopleura  in  which  the 
visceral  loop  (the  contenninous  visceral  nerves)  does  not 
share  in  the  torsion  of  the  visceral  hvunp,  but,  being  placed 
entirely  below  the  intestine,  remains  straight  and  untwisted, 
'the  junction  of  the  visceral  cords  being  below,  and  not 


Fio.  62.— Biino  vaMun  (Oicmnlt!),  ai  seen  crawling,  d,  oral  lood  (compare 
with  Tetbys,  fig.  62,  B),  possibly  a  continnation  of  the  epipodia;  &,  &',  cepnalic 
tontaclea.    (From  Owen.) 

above,  the  intestine  as  it  is  in  Streptonenra.  Although 
the  anus  is  not  brought  so  far  forward  by  the  visceral 
torsion  as  in  the  Streptonenra,  and  may  §ven  by  secimdary 
growth  assume  a  posterior  median  position,  yet,  as  fully 
developed,  an  asymmetry  has  restilted  as  in  the  A^ygo- 
brancMa,  only  the  original  right  renal  organ,  right  cteni- 
dium  (if  any),  right  osphradium,  'right  side  of  the  heart, 
and  right  genital  ducts  being  retained.  All  the  Euthy- 
neura  are  hermaphrodite.  The  lingual  ribbon  has  very 
usually  numerous  fine  denticles  J— -^         i 

undifferentiated    into  series  in      ^-^^         ^ —  *■ 
each  row.      The  shell  is  light 
and  little  calcified;  often  it  is 
rot    developed    in    the    adiUt, 

though  present  in  the  embryo.      ^^ - 

An  operculum,  often  found  in  d  " 

the  embrro,  is  never  present  in  P'o-  63.— Tomateiia.  h,  ahen ;  6, 
the  adult  /except  in  TomateUa,  o"i  !«»*;  d.  foot ;/.  operculum. 
fig.  53).  Many  Euthyneura  show  a  tendency  to,  or  a 
complete  accomplishment  of,  the  suppression  of  the  maTille- 
akirt  as  well  as  of  the  shell,  also  of  the  ctenidiu.ra,  and  ac- 
quire at  the  same  time  a  more  or  less  cylindrical  (slug-LL^e) 
form  of  body. 

The  Euthyneura  comprise  two  orders,  the  Opistho- 
branchia  and  the  Pulmonata. 

Order  1. — OpistholrancMa. 

Marine  Euthyneura  the  more  archaic  forms  of  which 
have  a  relatively  large  foot  and  a  small  visceral  hiunp, 
from  the  base  of  which  projects  on  the  right  side  a  short 
mantle^kirt.    The  anus  is  placed  in  such  forms  far  back 


.  Fm.  64. — XJmbreHa  meSittm'aea,     a,  mouth ;   h,  ceplia] 

(ctenldlmn).    The  free  edse  of  the  mEntle  Is  seen  Jutt  bslow  tho  matginof 
the  ahell  (compare  with  Aplyaia,  flg.  63).    (EVom  Owen.) 

fceyond  the  mantle-skirt.  In  front  of  the  anus,  and  only 
partially  covered  by  the  mantle-skirt,  is  the  ctenidium  with 
its  free  end  turned  backwards.  The  heart  lies  in  front  of, 
instead  of  to  the  side  of,  the  attaclur.ent  of  the  ctenidium, 
— .hence  Opisthobranchia  as  opposed  to  "  ProsobranchL*," 


655 

which  correspond  to  the'  Streptonenra.  A  shell  is  possessed 
in  the  adult  state  by  but  few  Opisthobranchia,  but  all  paa*l 
through  a  veliget  larval  stage  with  a  nautiloid  shell  (fig.  60)k, 
Many  Opisthobranchia  have 
by  a  process  of  atrophy  lost 
the  typical  ctenidium  and  the 
mantle-skirt,  and  have  deve- 
loped other  organs  in  their 
place.  As  in  some  Azygo- 
braachia,  the  free  margin  of 
the  mantle-skirt  is  frequently 
reflected  over  the  sheU  when 
a  shell  exists ;  and,  as  in  some 
Azygobranchia,  broad  lateral 
outgrowths  of  the  foot  (epi- 
podia)  are  often  developed, 
which,  as  d  oes  «o<  occur  in  Azy- 
gobranchia, may  be  thrown 
over  the  shell  or  naked  dorsal , 
surface  of  the  body.  ^   ^  ,      ^  v   *v    ?.» 

rm.  •  1.      £  •  1  J  _        tentacles ;  k.  penis-sneath.    (After 

The  variety  of  special  deve-  Keferstein.) 
lopments  of  structure  accom- 
panying the  atrophy  of  typical  organs  in  the  OpisthobranchiL 
and  general  degeneration  of  organization  is  very  great,  an& 
renders  their  classification  difficult.  Two  sections  of  the 
order  may  be  distinguished,  according  as  the  typical 
Molluscan  mantle-skirt  (limbus  pallialis)  is  or  is  not  atro- 
phied, and  within  each  section  certain  sub-orders. 

aecUon  a.— PALLIA TA  {^TecHbrancJiiata,  Woodward)— the 

typical  Molluscan  mantlc-skirt  or  pallium  retained. 

Sub-order  1. — Ctenidiohranchia, 

Characters.—  Palliata  in  which  the  ctenidium  U  retained  as  thj» 

branchial  organ ;  with  rare  exceptions  a  delicate  shell,  which  may 

be  very  smaU  or  completely  enclosed  by  the  reflected  margin  of  th» 

mantle ;  cpipodia  (lateral  outgrowths  of  the  foot)  freq^uently  present. 

Family  1. — TomcUelHdw. 

Genera :  Tomautla,  lam.  (fig.  63) ;  Cirmlia,  Gray,  ic. 
Family  i.—BuUida. 
Genera :  Bulla,  Lam.   (fig.  62) ;  Acera,  Miiller ;  Scaphander, 
Montf. ;  Bullssa,   Lain.  ;  Doridium,  Meckel ;    Gastropteron, 
Meckel,  &c. 
Family  3. — Aplysiid^. 
(jeneia :   Aplysia,  Gmelin  (the  Sea-Hare)  (figs.  20,  £6,  tus.)  i 
Dolobella,  Lam.;  Lobiger,  Krohn,  &c 
Family  4. — PlcurohraTjchida;. 
Genera :  Pleurohratwhus,  Cuvier ;  Umbrella,  Chemnitz  (figs.  64, 
65);  RximcUm,  Forbes,  iic. 

Sub-order  2.  — PhyllidiobrancJiia. 
Characters. — Palliata  in  which  the  ctenidia  have  atrophied ;  mncb 
as  in  Patellidoe  among  the  Zygobranchiate  Streptonenra  their  placo 
is  taken  by  laterally- placed  lameilse,  developed  from  the  inner  surfaco 
of  the  bUaterally-disposcd  mantle-shirt  in  two  lateral  rows. 
Family  B. — Phyllidiadee. 
Genera :  Phyllidia,  Cuiver ;  Pleurophyllidia,  Meek,  (fig.  67). 

Section  i.—NON-PALLIATA. 

CK«riwfcrj.— The  typical  MoUuscan  mantle-skirt  is  atrophied  in 
the  adult  No  shell  is  present  in  the  adult,  though  the  dorsal 
integument  may  be  strengthened  by  calcareous  spicules  (Doris).  Tha 
otocysts  are  not  sessile  on  the  pedal  ganglia  as  m  other  Gastropoda, 
but,  a^ in  the  Natantia  Azygobranchia,  lie  close  to  the  cerebral  ganglia. 
In  one  suborder  (Pygobranchia)  the  typical  ctenidium  appears  to 
bo  retained  in  a  modified  form  ;  in  the  others  special  developments 
of  the  body-wall  take  its  place,  or  no  special  respiratory  processes 
exist  at  all.  The  general  form  of  the  body  is  slug-like,  the  foot 
and  visceral  hiimp  being  coextensive,  and  a  secondary  bilateral 
symmetry  is  asserted  by  the  usually  median  (sometimes  right-sided) 
dorsal  position  of  the  anus  on  the  hinder  part  of  the  body. 
Sub-order  1. — Pygobranchia. 

Characters.  —The  ctenidium  assumes  the  form  of  a  circlet  of  pinnate 
processes  surrounding  the  median  dorsal  anus  ;  a  strongly-marked 
epipodial  fold  may  occur  all  round  the  foot  and  siinulate  a  mantle- 
skirt  (see  fig.  62,  C,  Doris) ;  papillae  or  "  cerata  "  of  the  dorsal  integu- 
ment may  occur  as  well  as  the  true  ctenidium  (fig.  61). 
Family  6. — Dm-ididas. 

Genera :  Boris,  L. ;  Oortiodoris,  Forbes ;  Triopa.  Johnst. ;  j^girtts 
Lo'cn  :  Thecacera,  Fleming ;  Polycera,  Cuvier  ;  Idalia,  Leuck- 
art  ;  AimUa,  Loven;  Ceraiosoma,  Adams  i  OruhidoriS;  Bloin?.. 


656 


MOLLUSCA 


BnB-orJer  2.— Cerofonoto. 


Charaders. — The  typioil  MoUu^can  ctenidium  is  not  developed  ; 
■upon  the  dorsal  area  ia  developed  a  more  or  less  numerous  series  of 
cylindrical  or  branched  processes  (the  ccrata)  into  each  of  which  tho 
intestine  usually  sends  a  process ;  anus  dorsal,  median,  or  right-sided. 
Family  7. — TrUov^iacUe. 
Genera:   Tritonia,  Cuvier;  Scyllma,  L.;  Tcthys,  L.  (fig.  62,  B); 
Deridronot-iis,  A.  and  H. ;  Doio^  Oken. 
Family  S.—SoHrlm. 
Genera :  Eolis,  Cuvier  (fig.  62,  A) ;  Glaums,  Forster  ;  Fiaiua,  A. 
and  H.  (Sg.  57);  Embldonia,  A.  and  H.;  Proctmotus,  A.  and 
H. ;  Aitiicpa,  A.  and  H.;  Mcrjnma,  Loven;  Alderia,  AHm.^n. 

Sub-order  3. — Haplomorpha. 
diaraclATS. — No  ctenidia,  cerata,  mantle-skirt,  or  other  processes 
of  the  body-wall ;  degenerate  forms  of  email  size. 
FamJJy  O.—PKyllirhcridia. 

Gsnera  :  Phyllirhoe,  Peron  and  Lesnenr  (fig.  5S) ;  Acura,  Adams. 
Family  10. — Elysiadaj. 
Genera:  Eiysia,  Risso  (fig.  62,  D,  E) ;  Actconia,  Qnatroi;  Ccnia, 
A.  and  H. ;  Liviaponiiaf  Johnston ;  HJiodope,  Kbli. 

Fi'Hhc)'  Bsmarlcs  on  the  Opisthohranchia. — The  Opia- 
thobvanchia  present  the  same  wide  range,  of  superficial 
aDpcaranco  as  do  the  Azygobranchiato  Streptoneura,  forma 


Sio.  M.— Threo  views  of  Aplysla  sp.,  to  vailons  conditions  of  expansion  and 
retraction.  (,  anterior  cephalic  tentacles ;  (2,  posterior  cephalic  tentacles ; 
c,  eyes  ;  /  metapoUiiim ;  ep,  epipodium  ;  g,  gill-pliune(ctemdium) ;  m,  mantle- 
Sap  reflected  over  tho  thin  oval  shell ;  os,  s,  oriCco  formed  by  the  imdosed 
border  of  the  reflected  mantle-sliirt,  allowing  the  iiiell  to  show ;  jk,  tho  sper- 
matic groove.    (After  Cuvier.) 

carrying  well-developed  spiral  shells  gud  large  mantle- 
skirts  being  included  in  the  group,  togedier  with  flattened 
or  cylindrical  slug- 
like forms.  But  ia 
respect  of  the  substi- 
tution of  other  parts 
for  the  mantle-skirt 
and  for  the  gill  which 
the  mors  degenerate 
Opisthohranchia  ex- 
hibit, this  Order 
staads  alone.  Some 
Opitithobranchia  are 
Btrikiiig  examples  of 
degeneiation  (some 
Haplomoi-pha),  hav- 
ing none  of  those  re- 
gions or  processes  of  .p,„  67.-Dor»al 

the  body  developed    dwiinmtacottoi, 

.  .  1  T  1*  -1  Falllalc  Opistbybrancna.    o,  tno  i 

Wnicn         UlStingUlSn  lamoUirormBUb-pallialRiUs,  whlch(,ii!iuPatdla) 

the  archaic  MoUusca  replace  tbo  typical  Mollus&m  ctenidium.    (After 

,  1.  .1   .  Kefcrstem.) 

from  such  iiat-wonna 

as  the  Dendroco;!  Planarians.  Indeed,  were  it  not  for  their 
retention  of  tho  characteristic  odontophore  we  should  have 
lUtle  or  no  indication  that  such  forms  as  Phyllirhoe  and 


[I  ventral  view  of  PUur^'hyllU 
Olio  of  the  rhyllidiobranchiato 
Falllalc  Opistbobrancha.    6,  tho  mouthy  Z,  tho 


I^OPISTBOEEANCHIA. 

Limapoctia  really  Lelocg  to  the  MollD'.ca  at  oil.  The  inter- 
esting little  Rhodove  Ve-ranyii,  which  has  no  odontophore, 
has  b;en  associated  by  systematists  both  with  these  simpli- 
fied Opistl'obranchs  and  with  Rhahdoccel  Planarians  (89). 

In  many  respects  „.  „;      7;   - 

the  Sea-Hare  (Aply- 
sia)  of  which  several 
species  are  known 
(some  occurring  on 
the  English  coast), 
serves  as  a  conven- 
ient example  of  tho  y_^_  j3._pSsn,>!io?  f.cjsafa,  t^ce  the  natnral 

fullest    development  0I20,  a  transp::rcnt   picciform   pc!agic  Opistho- 

nf    tliB    nrmnij-a^iATi  *i™"ch.    Tho  iEtcmal  organs  ore  sho-.ra  as  seen 

01    tue    Organt^avlOU  i,y  tmnsmittod  light,    o,  mouth;  5,  radnlar  sac; 

characteristic    of  c,  CEsophagna  ;  J,  stomach  ;  c',  ialtstine  ;  y,  anus : 

^.     .    , ,      ,  1  .  ff,  g',  g",  >/",  the  four  lobcj  cf  the  liver;  ft,  the 

(JpiStnobrancriia.  he-irt '•auricle  and  ve^jtricW ;  I,  the  lenal  sac  (no- 

Thewoodcut  ('a.!'.  56)  Phridimn) ;  e;  the  ciliated  communiaition  of  the 

r   •  1  ,.   1  renal  sac  with  tiie  nenciror.iTn;  m,  the  external 

givesafaitnliurepre-  opening  ofthe  renal  sac;  n,  the  cerebral  ganglion; 

<ipnt:fltinnnf  tTlPtrrpftt  "•  ">«  ceplialio  bentacla;  /,  the  genital  pore; 

sentaiionoi  tUL great,  ^^  j,jg  ovo- testes:  w,  the  parasitic  bydronicdiisa 

mobility  of  the  vari-  Jfn<5tra,nsnally  found  atiachcd  in  this  position  by 

r     £,1.    1.   J  theaboralpoleofitsumbrelia.  (After Keferstcin.) 
ous  parts  of  the  body. 

The  head  is  well  marked  and  joined  to  the  body  by  a  some- 
what constricted  neck.  It  carries  two  pairs  of  cephalio 
tentacles  and  a  pair  of  sessile  eyes.  The  visceral  hump  is 
low  and  not  drawn  out  into  a  spire.  The  foot  ia  long, 
carrying  the  oblong  visceral  mass  upon  it,  and  projecting 
(as  metapodium)  a  little  beyond  it  (/).  Latei-ally  the 
foot  gives  rise  to  a  pair  of  mobile  fleshy  lobes,  the  epipodia 
{ep),  which  can  be  thrown  up  so  as  to  cover  in  the  dorsal 


Vio.  ^Q,~AixrahuUaia.   A  single  row  of  teeth  of  tho  radola,    (Formula,  xls.) 

surface  of  the  animal.  Such  epipodia  are  common,  though 
by  no  means  universal,  among  Opisthohranchia.  The 
torsion  of  the  visceral  hump  is  not  carried  out  very  fuUy, 


Fio.  flO.-A  Vollgcr-Iaria  of  an  Opisthobranch  (Polycero).  /,  foot ;  C.  opra> 
cnlnm;  mn,  anal  paplUs;  ry,  iry,  two  portions  of  ijnabsorbcd  nutnti™ 
™iv  „A  either-  side  the  intestine.    Tho  nght  olocyst  is  seen  at  tho  root  OJ 


I  nutritivi 
le  root  0- 
m) show. 


-,^m_.   .,.„., e.      ine  ruiiii.  tj,in;j3i.  lo  oci^  «.-  t 

the  foot  '  H.  Trocho.';i)here  of  on  Opistbobrancb  (Plcorobianchidiu-^, 
in|:rtgV,  tho  shell-Bl"»nd  or  primifive  sheU-sac  ;  y,  the  cita  of  he  ve  urn; 
»*:  the  cJmrccneing  stomodKum  or  owl  iiivcEliialion;  o(,  t.ie  lelv  otocs..t, 
W.  rcd-coloiued  pinmeat  spot  C.  DiMastu'.r.  of  ex  Opisthobnmch  (Potf- 
cere)  with  elongated  blastopore  ot.    (All  from  Lankesicr.) 

the  consequence  being  that  the  anus  has  a  posterior  posi- 
tion a  little  to  the  right  of  tho  median  line  above  the 
metapodium,  whilst  the  branchial  chamber  formed  by  the 
overhanging  mantle-skirt,  faces  tho  right  side  of  tho  body 
instead  of  lying  well  to  tho  front  as  in  Streptoneura  and 
as  in  Pnlmonato  Euibyneura.  The  gill-plume  which  in 
Aplysia  ia  the  typical  Jlolluscan  ctenidium  is  seen  in  fig. 


OPISTHOBaANCm  A.  ] 


MOLIiUSUA 


657 


63  projecting  from  the  branchial  sub-pallial  space.  The 
relation  of  Uie  delicate  shell  to  the  mantle  is  peculiar, 
since  it  occupies  an  oval  area  upon  the  visceral  hump, 
the  extent  of  which  is  indicated  in  fig. 
56,  C,  but  may  be  better  understood 
by  a  glance  at  the  figures  of  the  allied 
genus  Umbrella  (figs.  54,  55),  in  which 
the  margin  of  the  mantle-skirt  coin- 
cides, just  as  it  does  in  the  Limpet, 
with  the  margin  of  the  shell.  But  in 
Aplysia  the  mantle  is  reflected  over 
the  edge  of  the  shell,  and  grows  over 
its  upper  surface  so  as  to  completely 
enclose  it,  excepting  at  the  small  cen- 
tral area  s  where  the  naked  shell  is 
exposed.  This  enclosm-e  of  the  shell 
is  a  permanent  development  of  the 
arrangement  seen  in  many  Strepto- 
neura  (c.jf.,  Pyrula,  Ovulum,  see  figs. 
38  and  41),  where  the  border  of  the 
mantle  can  ba,  and  usually  is,  drawn 
over  the  shell,  though  it  is  withdrawn  _ 
(as  it  cannot  le  in  Aplysia)  when  they  p„  ei.-Myce™  crisiaia. 
are  irritated.      From   the  fact   that    one  of  the  pygobranchi- 

...  'J,     i-r  £  ate  Opisthobranchs (doT' 

Aplysia  commences  its-  life  as  a  free-  sai  view),  a,  anus;  sr, 
cwimming  Velieer  with  a  nautiloid    thectenidiumpecouariy 

o°.  ,,         moaiuea  so  as  to  encircle 

shell  not  enclosed  m  any  way  by  the  the  anus;  (.cephalic  ten- 
border  of  the  mantie,  it  is  clear  that  Sulbiaf  cSlm  "e 
the  enclosure  of  the  shell  in  the  adult    seen  ten  cinb-uke  pro- 

1  A  J  •       1  cessea  of  the  dorsal  wall, 

IS  a  secondary  process.  Accordingly,  these  are  the  "cerata" 
the  sheU  of  Aplysia  must  not  be  con-  ruydlXpSin"ilher 
founded  with  a  primitive  shell  in  its  sub -order  of  Opistho- 
sheU-sac,  such  as  we  find  realized  in  ^'t;  ^^f^""^^ 
the  shells  of  Chiton  and  in  the  plugs  Ge|egtaai-,'  after  Aider 
which  form  in  the  remarkable  tran- 
sitory "  shell-sac  "  or  "  shell-gland  "  of  Molluscan  embryos 


Fio.  62.     , 

A.  Eolis  papUlMa  (Lin.),  dorsal  view,    a,  6,  postetlor  and  anterior  cephalic 

tentacles ;  c,  the  dorsal  "  ceiata  "  (hence  Ceratobranchia). 

B.  Tctitys  lepoTina^  dorsal  view,    a,  the  cephalic  hood ;  b,  cephalic  tentacles  ; 

c,  neck ;  d,  genital  pore ;  c,  auoa ;  /,  Urge  cerata ;  g,  smaller  cerata  ; 
A,  margin  of  the  foot 

C.  i>oris  (Actinccytiut)  t-ubirculaiiu  (Cut,),  seen  from  the  pedal  snrface.    m, 

-  mouth ;  &,  margin  of  the  head ;  /.  sole  of  the  foot ;  sp,  the  mantle-like 
.  epi  podium. 

D.  S.  Dorsal  and  lateral  view  of  Elytia  {AcUeon)  rin'dls.    tp,  epipodial  ou^ 
'"■    ^glDWtha.    CA/ter  Keferatein.) 

Xseefigs  7j  58,  and  72***).     Ap^^  like  other  Mollusca, 
Vw 34 


develops  a  primitive  shell-sac  in  its  trochosphere  stage  of 
development  (fig.  68),  which  disappears  and  is  succeeded 
by  a  nautiloid  shell  (fig.  60).  This  forms  the  nucleus  of 
the  adult  shell, 
and,  as  the  ani- 
mal grows,  be- 
comes enclosed 
by  a  reflexion  of 
the  mantle-skirt. 
In  reference  to 
the  possible  com- 
parison of  the 
enclosed  shell  of 
Aplysia  and  its 
allies  with  those 
of  some  Slugs  and 
of  Cuttle-fishes, 
the  reader  is  re- 
ferred to  the  para- 
graphs dealing 
especially  with 
those  Molluscs. 
When  the  shell 
of     an     Aplysia 

enCiOSCQ      m      its  ^^^  ^j,,,^  reflected  away  from  the  mid-line,    o/an- 

mantle  is  pushed  tenor  cephalic  tentacle;  b,  posterior  do.;  between  a 

T^pll    fn    tliA    \off  ^^^  ^'  ^^^  eyes;  c,  riglit  epipodimn;  d,  left  eplpo- 

weu  lo    tne    leit,  ^,^^  .  ^^  hinder  part  of  Wsceral  hump ;  Jp,  postenor 

the         sub-pallial  extremity  of  the  foot;  fa,  anterior  part  of  the  foot 

-   K  underlying  the  head :  p,   the  ctenidium  (branchial 

space  is  lUlly  ex-  plnme) ;  h,  the  mantle-skirt  tightly  spread  over  the 

riOSed    as    in    fiff  homy  shell  and  pushed  with  it  towards  the  left  side ; 

r^^^    r*  ^*  i)  the  spermatic  groove ;  it,  the  common  genital  pore 

63,  and  the  van-  (male  and  female) ;  /,  orifice  of  the  grape-shaped  (sup- 

«,,(,    nT^AY.4-,.i.^(,    ^(  posed  poisonous)  gland ;  m,  the  ospnradium  (olfac- 

OUS    apertures    OI  ,j,jy  ^jg^^  „{  Spengel) ;  r,  outline  of  part  of  the  renal 

the  body  are  seen.  ^^  (nephridiom)  below  tlie  surface  ;  o.  external  aper- 

T,     .     ■     ,  ture  of  the  nephridium ;  p,  anus.    (Original.) 

Postonoily      we 

have  the  anus,  in  front  of  this  the  lobate  gill-plume,  be- 
tween the  two  (hence  corresponding  in  position  to  that  of 
the  Azygobranchia)  we  have  the  aperture  of  the  renal 
organ.  In  front,  near  the  anterior  attachment  of  the  gill- 
plume,  is  the  osphradium  (olfactory  organ)  discovered  by 
Spengel,  yellowish  in  colour,  in 
the  typical  position,  and  overly- 
ing an  olfactory  ganglion  with 
typical  nerve-connexion  (see  fig. 
20).  To  the  right  of  Spengel's 
osphradium  is  the  opening  of  a 
peculiar  gland  which  has,  when 
dissected  0'\t,  the  form  of  a  bunch 
of  grapes ;  its  secretion  is  said  to 
be  poisonous.  On  the  under  side 
of  the  free  edge  of  the  mantle  are 
situated  the  numerous  small  cu- 
taneous glands  which,  in  the  large 
Aplysia  camelus  (not  in  other 
species),  form  the  purple  secretion 
which  was  known  to  the  ancients. 
In  front  of  the  osphradiimi  is  the 
single  genital  pore,  the  aperture  _ 

of  the  common  or  hermaphrodite  '  'giands  a'nTTucts  of  Apfysi 
duct.      From    this    point    there    Surtfraibi^S^-'^a^" 

stretches    forward     to    the     right     /.  veslcuhi  seminalis ;  k,  open- 
.,..,,,  ?i         ing  of  the  Blbuminiparous  gland 

side   of   the    head   a   groove tne      info  the  hermaplirodite  duct; 

spermatic    groove-down   which    ^^^^f'^'g^i"'^^^"*"- 
the  spermatic  flmd   passes.      ^^    -      -    --  ^ -•- 


'  Fio.  64.— Gonad,  and  acccssoo' 


In 


the  uterine  duct ;     .     . 

other  Euthyneura  this  groove  may  ^S° '  (Ori^nalT"  "^  *'""*' 
close  up  and  form  a  canaL     At 

its  termination  by  the  side  of  the  head  is  the  muscolar 
introverted  penb.  In  the  hinder  part  of  the  foot  (not 
shown  in  any  of  the  diagrams)  is  the  opening  of  a  large 
mucous-forming  gland  very  often  found  in  the  Molluscar. 

foot  

'XVI.  —  83 


t{5» 


MOLLUSCA 


[opisthobeanc/ha. 


With  regard  to  internal  organization  we  may  commence 
with  the  disposition  of  the  renal  organ  (nephiidium),  the 
external  opening  of  which  has  already  been  noted.  The 
position  of  this  opening  and  other  features  of  the  renal 
organ  have  been  determined  recently  by  Mr.  J.  T.  Cunning- 
ham, Fellow  of  University  College,  Oxford,  who  writes  as 
follows  from  Naples,  February  1883  : — 

"There  is  considerable  ancertainty  v/ith  respect  to  the  names  of 
the  species  of  Aplysia.  There  are  two  forms  which  are  very  common 
in  the  Gulf  of  Jfaples,  and  which  I  have  used  in  studying  the  ana- 
tomy of  the  renal  organ  in  the  genus.  One  is  q"ite  black  in  colour, 
and  measures  when  outstretched  eight  or  nine  inches  in  length. 
The  other  is  light  brown  and  somewhat  smaller,  its  length  usually 
not  exceeding  seven  inches.  The  first  is  flaccid  and  sluggish  in  its 
movements,  and  has  not  much  power  of  contraction  ;  its  epipodial 
Iob«3  are  enormously  developed  and  extend  far  forward  aktng  the 
body  ;  it  gives  out  when  handled  an  abundance  of  purple  liquid, 
which  is  derived  from  cutaneous  glands  situated  on  the  under  side 
of  the  free  edge  of  the  mantle.  In  the  Zoological  Station  this  form 
is  known  as  Ap.  leporina  ;  but  according  to  Blochmann  it  is  iden- 
tic-il  with  A.  Camclus  of  Cuvier.  The  other  species  is  A.  dtpilans  ; 
it  is  firm  to  the  touch,  and  contracts  forcibly'  when  irritated  ;  the 
secretion  of  the  mantle-glands  is  not  abundant,  and  is  milky  white 
in  appearance.  The  kidney  has  similar  relations  in  both  genera, 
and  is  identical  with  the  organ  spoken  of  by  many  authors  as  the 
triangulai'  gland.  Its  superficial  extent  is  seen  when  the  folds 
covering  the  shell  are  cut  away  and  the  shell  removed  ;  the  external 
surface  forms  a  triangle  v/ith  its  base  bordering  the  pericardium  and 
its  apex  directed  posteriorly  and  reaching  to  the  left-hand  posterior 
corner  of  the  shell-chamber.  The  dorsal  surface  of  the  kidney 
extends  to  the  left  beyond  the  shell-chamber  beneath  the  skin  in 
the  space  between  the  shell-chamber  and  the  left  epipodium. 

' '  When  the  animal  is  turned  on  its  left-hand  side  aud  the  mantle- 
chambtr  widely  opened,  the  gill  being  turned  over  to  the  left,  a 
part  of  the  kidney  is  seen  beneath  the  skin  between  the  attachment 
of  the  gill  and  the  right  epipodium  (fig.  63).  On  examination 
this  is  found  to  be  the  under  surface  of  the  posterior  limb  of  the 

fland,  the  upper  surface  of  which  has  just  been  described  as  Tying 
eneath  the  shell.  In  the  posterior  third  of  this  portion,  close  to 
that  edge  which  is  adjacent  to  the  base  of  the  gill,  is  the  external 
opening  (fig.  63,  o). 

"  When  the  pericardium  is  cut  open  from  above  in  au  animal 
otherwise  entire,  the  anterior  face  of  the  kidney  is  seen  forming 
the  post-erior  wall  of  the  pericardial  chamber  :  on  the  deep  edge  of 
this  face,  a  little  to  the  left  of  the  attachment  of  the  auricle  to  the 
floor  of  the  pericardium,  is  seen  a  depression  ;  this  depression  con- 
tains the  opening  from  the  pericardium  into  the  kidney. 

"To  complete  the  account  of  the  relations  of  the  organ  :  the  right 
anterior  corner  can  be  seen  superficially  in  the  wall  of  the  mantle- 
chamber  above  the  gill.  Thus  the  base  of  the  gill  passes  in  a  slant- 
ing direction  across  the  right-hand  side  of  the  kidney,  the  posterior 
end  being  dorsal  to  the  ajiex  of  the  gland,  aud  the  anterior  end 
ventral  to  the  right-hand  corner. 

"  As  so  great  a  part  of  the  whole  surface  of  the  kidney  lies  adjacent 
to  external  surfaces  of  the  body,  the  remaining  part  which  faces 
the  internal  organs  is  small  ;  it  consists  of  the  left  part  of  the  under 
surface  ;  it  is  level  with  the  floor  of  the  pericardium,  and  lies  over 
the  globular  nias^  formed  by  the  liver  and  convoluted  intestine. 

"Mere  dissection  does  not  give  sufficient  evidence  concerning  such 
communications  as  these  of  the  kidney  in  Aplysia.  I  studied  the 
external  opening  by  taking  a  series  of  sections  through  tlio  sur- 
rounding region  of  the  gland  ;  to  demonstrate  the  internal  aperture 
injected  a  solution  of  Berlin  blue  into  the  pericardium  ;  it  aid  not 
fill  the  whole  kidney  easily,  but  ran  down  into  'he  mrt  a.ljaccnt  to 
the  base  of  the  gill." 

Thus  the  renal  organ  of  Aply.si.'i  is  slio\vn  to  conform  to 
the  Molluscan  type.  The  heurt  lying  within  tlio  adjacent 
pericardium  has  the  usual  form,  a  single  auricle  and  ven- 
tricle. The  vascular  .system  is  not  extensive,  the  arteries 
soon  ending  in  the  well-marked  sjiongy  tissue  which  builds 
up  the  muscular  foot,  epipodia,  and  dorsal  body-\v.iIl. 

The  alimentary  eaiiul  commences  with  the  usual  buccal 
mass  ;  the  lips  are  cartilciginoas,  but  not  armed  with  horny 
jaw.s,  though  these  arc  common  in  other  Opisthobranchs  ; 
the  lingual  ribbon  is  multidtnliculato,  and  a  pair  of  salivary 
glands  pour  in  their  secretion.  The  oesophagus  expands 
into  a  curioits  gizzard,  which  is  armed  internally  with  large 
horny  processes,  some  broad  and  thick,  others  spinous,  fitted 
to  act  as  crushing  instruments.  From  this  we  pass  to  a 
stomach  and  a  coil  of  intestine  embedded  in  the  lobes  of  a 
voluminous  liver ;  a  cajcum  of  large  size  is  given  olT  near 


the  commencement  of  the  intestine.     The  liver  opona  by 
two  ducts  into  the  digestive  tract. 

The  generative  organs  lie  close  to  the  coil  of  intestine 
and  liver,  a  little  to  the  left  side.  When  dissected  out  they 
appear  as  represented  in  fig.  S*.     The  essential  reproductive 

B 


organ  or  gonad  consists  of  both  ovarian  and  testicular 
cells  (see  fig.  65).  It  is  an  ovo-testis.  From  it  passes  a 
common  or  hermaphrodite  duct,  which  very  soon  becomes 
entwined  in  the  spire  of  a  gland — the  albuminiparous  gland. 
The  latter  opens  into  the  common  duct  at  the  point  x,  and 
here  also  is  a  small  diverticulum  of  the  duct  y.  Passing 
on,  we  find  not  far  from  the  genital  pore  a  glandular  spherical 
body  (the  spermatheca  a)  opening  by  means  of  a  longiah 
duct  into  the  common  duct,  and 
then  we  reach  the  pore  (fig.  63, 
/!•).  Here  the  female  apparatus 
terminates.  But  when  the  male 
secretion  of  the  ovo-testis  is 
active,  the  seminal  fluid  passes 
from  the  genital  pore  along  the 
spermatic  groove  (fig.  63,)  to 
(;he  penis,  and  is  by  the  aid  of 
that  eversible  muscular  organ 
mtroduted  into  the  genital  pore 
of  a  second  Aplysia,  whence  it  ^ 
passes  into  the  spermatheca, there  "^ 
to  await  the  activity  of  the  fe- 
male element  of  the  ovo-testis  of 
this  second  Aplysia.  After  an 
interval  of  some  days — possibly 
weeks — the  ova  of  the  second 
Aplysia  commence  to  descend 
the  hermaphrodite  duct ;  they 
become  enclosed  in  a  viscid  secre-  Fio  66-   Enttric  canal  of  .f  olWta 

tinn    it    thfi   nnint  whprB    tho    al       P<-TiUo!<i.    pA,  pharynx ;  m,  mid- 

lion  at  tne  point  wnere  me  aa-    p,t,  with  its  hepatic  appendages 

buminiparous  gland  0]x;ns  into     «,  all  of  which  are  cot  ngimsd ; 

the    duct   intertwined  with    it ; 

and  on  reaching  the  point  where    "<><=''■) 

th:-  ppcrmathecal  duct  debouches  they  are  impregnated  by 

the  spermatozoa  which  escape  now  from  the  soennatheca 

and  meet  the  ova. 

The  development  of  Aplysia  from  the  egg  presents  many 
points  of  interest  from  the  point  of  view  of  comparative 
embryology,  but  in  relation  to  the  morphology  of  th« 
Opisthobrancliia  it  is  sufficient  to  point  to  the  occurrence 
of  a  tiochoaphere  and  a  veligcr  ."tage  (fig.  60),  and  of  a 
shell-gland  or  juimitive  shell-sac  (fig.  68,  siis),  which  is  suc- 
ceeded by  a  nautiloid  shell. 

The  nervous  system  of  Ajilysia  will  lie  found  on  com- 
parison of  fig.  20,  which  represents  it,  with  our  schematic 
Mollusc  (fig.  1,  D)  to  present  but  little  modification.  It  is 
in  fact  a  nervous  system  in  which  the  great  ganglion-pairs 
are  well  developed  and  distinct.  Tlie  Euthjmeurous  visceral 
loop  is  long,  and  presents  only  one  ganglion  (in  Aplysia 
cameliu,  but  two  distinct  ganglia  joined  to  one  another  in 


OTtgTBOBRlUCBLL. 

Aplytia  hybrida  of  the  English  coast),  placed  at  its  extreme 
limit,  representing  both  the  right  and  left  visceral  ganglia 
and  the  third  or  abdominal  ganglion,  which  are  so  often 
separately  present.  The  diagram  (fig.  20)  shows  the  nerve 
connecting  this  abdomino-  y 

visceral  ganglion  with  the  '^  / 

olfactory  ganglion  of  Spen-   ^    -^J^,-— ^-ViL    * 
geL     It  is  also  seen  to  be  • '  '*''^^^'    r^-^^ 

connected  with  a  more  re- 
mote ganglion — the  genital.  T 
Such  special  irregularities 
in  the  development  of  gan- 
glia upon  the  visceral  loop, 
ind  on  one  or  more  of  the 
main  nerves  connected  with 

it,  are,  as  the  figures  oi  ^^^^^"_c^^^„,^^^^^^^^,f^„^ 
Molluscan  nervous  systems    i^^^  °^   ^*   Ceratonotous  opistho- 

.1.         i'  1       V  branchsX  showing  »  tendency  to  fusion 

given  m  tniS  article   snow,  ot  the  great  gangU*.    .i,  cerebral,  pleu- 

ver\-  frequent.      Our  figure  f^,'  and  yireexal  ganglia  united  ;  S,  pc. 

"/  "'-^"'^""-      ""^   ^^^^  j^  ganglion;  C,  buccal  gangUon ;  /), 

n    the    nervous    system    of  CESophageal  ganglion  connected  with  the 

Aplysia  does  not  give  the    Sil  ;\"n'S;'eeVS°/r  S^SllS 

Bmall  pair  of  buccal  ganglia  tentacles ;  ,:,  nerve  to  generative  organs; 

,.  ,*^  .        ,,  >,i  d,  pedal  nerve  :  c.  pedal  conunissnre  ;  e*, 

wniCb  are,  as  in  all  UlOSSO-  Tisceral  loop  or  commissure  (rx    (From 

phorOUS    Molluscs,    present  Gcgenbanr,  »fter  Bergh.) 

upon  the  nerves  passing  from  the  cerebral  region  to  the 
»dontophore. 

For  a  comparison  ol  various  Opisthobranchs,  Aplysia  will 
ie  found  to  present  a  convenient  starting-point.  It  is 
one  of  the  more  typical  Opisthobranchs,  that  is  to  say, 
it  belongs  to  the  section  Falliata,  but  other  members  of  the 
Palliata,  namely,  Bulla  and  TomateUa  (figs.  52  and  53), 
are  less  abnormal  than  Aplysia  in  regard  to  their  shells  and 
the  form  of  the  visceral  hump.  They  have  naked  spirally- 
twisted  shells  which  may  be  concealed  from  view  in  the 
living  animal  by  the  expansion  and  reflexion  of  the  epipodia. 


MOLLUSCA 


65& 


,  otocyst  also  developing 

.    „  n 

r  shell-gland.    (From  Laukcster.) 

but  are  not  enclo.'?ed  by  the  mantle,  whil.it  TomateUa  is 
remarkable  amongst  all  Euthyneura  for  possessing  an  oper- 
culum like  that  of  so  many  Streptoneura. 

The  great  development  of  the  epipodia  seen  in  Aplysia 
is  usual  in  Palliate  Opisthobranchs;  it  occurs  also  in  Elysia 
(fig.  62,  D)  among  Non-Palliata ;  in  Doris  it  seems  prob- 
able that  the  mantle-like  fold  overhanging  the  foot  is  to 
be  interpreted  as  epipodium,  the  mantle-skirt  being  alto- 
gether absent,  as  shown  by  the  naked  position  of  the  gills 
and  anus  on  the  dorsal  surface  (figs.  61  and  62,  C).  The 
whole  surface  of  the  body  becomes  greatly  modified  in 
those  Non-Palliate  forms  which  have  lost,  not  only  the 
mantle-skirt  and  the  shell,  but  also  the  ctenidium.  Many 
of  these  (Ceratonota)  have  peculiar  processes  developed 
on  the  dorsal  surface  (fig.  62,  A,  B),  or  retain  purely 


negative  characters  (fig.  SS,  D).  The  chief  modification  of 
internal  organization  presented  by  these  forms,  as  compared 
with  Aplysia,  is  found  in  the  condition  of  the  alimentary' 
canal  The  Uver  is  no  longer  a  compact  organ  opening 
by  a  pair  of  ducts  into  the  median  digestive  tract,  but  wc 
find  very  numerous  hepatic  diverticula  on  a  shortened' 
axial  tract  (fig.  66).  These  diverticula  extend  usually  OU' 
into  each  of  the  dorsal  papillae  or  "  cerata  "  when  these  an 
present.  They  are  not  merely  digestive  glands,  but  ari 
sufficiently  wide  to  act  as  receptacles  oi  food,  and  in  them 
the  digestion  of  food  proceeds  just  as  in  the  axial  portion 
of  the  canaL  A  precisely  similar  modification  of  the  liver 
or  great  digestive  gland  is  found  in  the  Scorpions,  where 
the  axial  portion  of  the  digestive  canal  is  short  and  straight, 
and  the  lateral  ducts  sufficiently  wide  to  admit  food  into 
the  ramifications  of  the  gland  there  to  be  digested ;  whilst 
in  the  Spiders  the  gland  is  reduced  to  a  series  of  simpk 
cseca. 

The  typical  character  is  retained  by  the  heart,  peri- 
cardium, and  the  communicating  nephridium  or  renal  organ 
in  all  Opisthobranchs.  An  interesting  example  of  this  L« 
furnished  by  the  fish-like  transparent  Phyllirhoe  (fig.  58), 
in  which  it  is  possible  most  satisfactorily  to  study  in  the 
living  animal,  by  means  of  the  microscope,  the  course  o: 
the  blood-stream,  and  also  the  reno-pericardial  commtin' 
cation.  With  reference  to  the  existence  of  pores  placing 
the  vascular  system  La  open  communication  with  the 
surrounding  water,  see  the  paragraph  as  to  Mollusca  gener- 
ally. In  a  form  closely  allied  to  Aplysia  (PleurobranchUs) 
such  a  pore  leading  outwards  from  the  branchial  vein  ha."; 
been  precisely  described  by  Lacaze  Duthiers.  No  such  pore 
has  been  detected  in  Aplysia.  In  many  of  the  Non-Palliate 
OpLsthobianchs  the  nervous  system  presents  a  concentra- 
tion of  the  ganglia  (fig.  67),  contrasting  greatly  with  what 
we  have  seen  in  Aplysia.  Not  only  are  the  pleural  ganglia 
fused  to  the  cerebral,  but  also  the  visceral  to  these  (see  in 
further  illustration  the  condition  attained  by  the  Pulmonatc 
Limnasus,  fig.  22),  and  the  visceral  loop  is  astonishingly  short 
and  insignificant  (fig.  67,  «').  That  the  parts  are  rightly  thw: 
identified  is  probable  from  Spengel's  observation  of  the  os- 
phradium  and  its  nerve-supply  in  these  forms ;  the  nerve  tc 
that  organ,  which  is  placed  somewhat  anteriorly — on  the  dor- 
sal surface — being  given  ofif  from  the  hinder  part  (visceral)  of 
the  right  compound  ganglion — the  fellow  to  that  marked  A  in 
fig.  67.  The  Ceratonotous  Opisthobranchs,  amongst  other 
specialities  of  structure,  are  stated  to  possess  (in  some  casa? 
at  any  rate)  apertures  at  the  apices  of  the  "cerata"  or 
dorsal  papillae,  which  lead  from  the  exterior  into  the  hepatif 
cseca.  This  requires  confirmation.  Some  amongst  them 
(Tergipes,  Eolis)  are  also  remarkable  for  possessing 
peculiarly  modified  epidermic  cells  placed  in  sacs  at  thi. 
apices  of  these  same  papillae,  which  resemble  the  "  thread 
cells  "  of  the  Planarian  Flatworms  and  of  the  Coelentera 
The  existence  of  these  thread-cells  is  sufficiently  remark 
able,  seeing  that  the  Non-PaUiate  Opisthobranchs  resemble 
in  general  form  and  habit  the  Planarian  worms,  many  o: 
which  also  possess  thread-cells.  But  it  is  not  conceivable 
that  theirpresence  is  an  indication  of  genetic  affinity  between 
the  two  groups,  rather  they  are  instances  of  homoplasy. 
The  development  of  many  Opisthobranchia  has  been 
examined — e.g.,  Aplysia,  Pleurobianchidium,  Elysia,  Poly- 
cera,  Doris,  Tergipes.  All  pass  through  trochosphere  and 
veliger  stages,  and  in  all  a  nautiloid  or  boat-like  shell  i". 
developed,  preceded  by  a  well-marked  "shell-gland"  (sec  figs, 
60  and  68).  The  transition  from  the  free-swimming  veliger 
larva  with  its  nautiloid  shell  (fig.  60)  to  the  adult  form  has 
not  been  properly  observed,  and  many  interesting  pcnnts  as 
to  the  true  nature  of  folds  (whether  epipodia  or  mantle  or 
velum)  have  yet  to  be  cleared  up  by  a  knowledge  of  such 
development  in  forms  like  Tethys,  Do^i^  Phyllidia,  Sn. 


660 


MOLLUSCA 


[pUlMOIfAXA 


Afl  in  other  MoUuscan  groups,  we  find  even  in  closely- 
allied  genera  (for  instance,  in  Aplysia  and  Pleurobran- 
chidium,  and  other  genej-a  observed  by  Lankester)  the 
greatest  differences'  as  to  the  amount  of  food-material  by 
which  the  egg-shell  is  encumbered.  Some  form  their 
Diblastuia  by  emboly  (fig.  7),  others  by  epiboly  (fig.  5) ; 
and  in  the  later  history  of  the  further  development  of  the 
enclosed  cells  (arch-enteron)  very  marked  variations  occur, 
in  closely-allied  forms,  due  to  the  influence  of  a  greater  or 
less  abundance  of  food-material  mixed  with  the  protoplasm 
of  the  egg. 

Order  2  (of  the  Euthyneura).— Palmonata. 

Characters. — Euthyneurous  Anisopleurous  Gastropoda, 
probably  derived  from  an.;estral  forms  similar  to  the 
PaUiate  Opisthobranchia  by  adaptation  to  a  terrestrial  life. 
The  ctenidium  is"  atrophied,  and  the  edge  of  the  mantle-skirt 
is  fused  to  the  dorsal  integument  by  concrescence,  except  at 
one  point  which  forms  the  aperture  of  the  mantle-chamber, 
thus  converted  into  a  nearly  closed  sac.  Air  is  admitted 
to  this  sac  for  respiratory  and  hydrostatic  purposes,  and  it 
thus  becomes  a  lung.  An  operculum  is  never  present ;  a 
contrast  being  thus  afforded  with  the  operculate  Pulmonale 
Streptoneura  (Cyclostoma,  &c.),  which  differ  in  other 
essential  features  of  structure  from  the  Pulmonata.  The 
Pulmonata  are,  like  the  other  Euthyneura,  hermaphrodite, 
with  elaborately-developed  copulatory  organs  and  accessory 
glands.  Like  other  Euthj-neura,  they  have  very  numerous 
small  denticles  on  the  lingual  ribbon.  The  ancestral 
Pulmonata  appear  to  have  retained  both  the  right  and  the 
left  osphradia  (Spengel's  olfactory  organs),  since  in  some 
(Planorbis,  Auricularia)  we  find  the  single  osphradium  to 
be  that  of  the  original  left  side,  whilst  in  others  (Limnsus) 
it  is  that  of  the  original  right  side. 

In  some  Pulmonata  (SnaUs)  the  foot  is  extended  at  right 
angles  to  the  visceral  hump,  which  rises  from  it  in  the 
form  of  a  coil  as  in  Streptoneura ;  in  others  the  visceral 
hump  is  not  elevated,  but  is  extended  with  the  foot,  and- 
tbe  shell' is  small  or  absent  (Slugs). 

The  Pulracnata  are  divided  into  two  sub-orders  according  to  the 
position  of  tiie  cephalic  eyea. 

Suh-order  1. — Basommatoplwrei. 
Characters.-  Eyes  placed  mediad  of  the  cephalic  tentacles  at  their 
base  ;  the  embryonic  velar  area  retained  in  adult  life  as  a  pair  of 
cephalic  lobes  (fig.   70,  v) ;  male  and  female  generative  apertures 
separate,  placed  (as  is  typical  in  Anisopleura)  on  the  right  side  of 
the  neck ;  visceral  hump  well  developed,  with  a  well-developed 
shell ;  aquatid  in  habit. 
Family  \.—Limnmidse. 
Genera;  Idmnsms,  Lam.  (figs.  3,  4,  &c.);  Chilinia,  Gray;  Physa, 
Draparn.  ;  .Ancylm,  Geoff.  ;  Planorbis,  Miill.,  &c. 
Family  2. — Auriculide!. 

Genera :  Auricula^  Lam.  ;  Conomclus,  Lam.  :  PitJuirella,  Wood. 
■&c. 

Sub-order  %  —  Stylom'incUoplKrfa. 
Characters.  — Eyes  placed  on  the  summit  of  two  hollow  tentacles  ; 
■visceral  hump  well  or  not  at  all  developed ;  shell  large  and  coiled, 
or  minute  or  absent ;  almost  exclusively  torrestriaL 
Family  1. — Hclicidaj. 

Genera:  Helix,  L.  (Cgs.  69,  A;  72*);   Vitrina,  Draparn.  ;  Sue- 
Hnea,  Draparn.  ;  liulimus,  Scopoli ;  Achaii'ivi,  Lam.  ;  Pupa, 
Lam.  ;  Clausilia,  Drapara.,  &c. 
■Family  2. — Limacida  (Slugs). 

Goncra :  Limax,  L." ;  IncilaT-ia,  Benson  ;  Arion,  Ferussac  (fig. 
69,  D) ;  Parmacella,  Cuvicrr ;  Testaalla,  Cuvier  (fig.  69,  C),  &c. 
(Family  3. — Oncidiades. 

Genera :    Oncidium,    Bachanui ;    Peronia,    Blainv.    {fig.    72)  ; 

Vaginulus,  Ferussac,  tc. 
Further  Remarke  cm  Pulmonata. — The  land-snails  and 
^Ugs  forming  the  group  Pulmonata  are  widely  distinguished 
from  a  small  set  of  terrestrial  Azygobranchia,  the  Pneumo- 
nochlamyda  (see  above),  at  one  time  associated  with  them 
on  account  of  their  mantle-chamber  being  converted,  as  in 


Pulmonata,  into  a  lung,  and  the  ctenidium  or  branchial 
plume  aborted.  The  Pneumonochlamyda  (represented  in 
England  by  the  common  genus  Cyclostoma)  have  a  twisted 


Fig.  69.— a  series  of  Stylommatophorous  PulinoData,  showing  tranaitkjoal  foma 
betn'eeD  snail  and  slug, 

A.  Kelix  pomatia  (from  Keferstein). 

B.  Heticophania  brevipes  (from  Keferstein,  after  Pfeiffer). 
0.    Ttstacella  haliotidea  (from  Keferstein). 

D.  Avion  aler,  the  great  Black  Slug  (from  Keferstein). 

a,  SheU  in  A,  B,  C,  shell-sac  (closed)  In  D ;  t,  orifice  leading  Into  ths 
subpallial  chamber  Gung). 

visceral  nerve-loop,  an  operculum  on  the  foot,  a  complex 
rhipidoglossate  or  tsenioglossate  radula,  and  are  of  distinct 
sexes ;  they  are,  in  fact,  Azygobranchiate  Streptoneura. 
The  Pulmonata  have  a  straight  visceral  nerve-loop,  never 
an  operculum  (even  in  tiie  embryo),  and  a  multidenticidata 


Via.  70.— A,  B,  C,  Three  Tiews  of  Liimiarus  etayntdls,  in  order  to  show  tllft 
persistence  of  the  larval  velar  area  v,  as  the  cLrcum-oral  lobM  of  the  aduJt. 
m,  mouth ;  /.  foot ;  v,  velar  area,  tho  margin  v  corresnondirg  rilh  tli« 
ciliated  band  which  dcmarcatos  the  velar  an^ft  or  velum  of  the  smbryo  Gas- 
tropod (see  tig.  4,  D,  B,  F,  H,  I,  v).    (Original.) 

radu]fl,the  teeth  being  equi-formal;  and  they  are  hermaphro- 
dite. Some  Pulmonata  (Limn^us,  &c.)  live  in  fresh-waters 
although  breathing  air.  The  remarkable  discovery  has 
been  made  that  in  deep  lakes  such  Limmei  do  not  breathe 
air,  but  admit  water  to  tho  lung-sac  and  live  at  the  bottom. 
The  lung-sac  serves  undoubtedly  as  a  hydrostatic  apparatus 
in  the  aquatic  Pulmonata,  as  well  as  assisting  respiration. 
It  is  not  improbable  that  hero,  and  in  other  air-breathing 
animals,  the  hydrostatic  function  waa  the  primary  oae,  and 
the  respiratory  a  later  deyelopjnent. 


•.'JONATA.] 


MOLLUSCA 


661 


Tlis  same  general  range  of  body-form  is  sliown  in  Pul- 
monata  as  in  the  Natant  Azygobrancliia  and  in  the  Opit- 
thobranchia ;  at  one  extreme  we  hare  Snails  with  coUed 
visceral  hump,  at  the  other  cylindrical  or  flattened  Slugs 
(see  fig.  69).  Limpet-like  forms  are  also 
found  (fig.  71,  Ancylus).  The  foot  is  al- 
ways simple,  with  its  flat  crawling  surface 
extending  from  end  to  end,  but  in  the 
embryo  Limnaeus  (fig.  4,  H)  it  shows  a 
bilobed  character,  which  leads  on  to  the 
condition  characteristic  of  Pteropoda.  ^'rMiiu'^T''MMi' 

The  adaptation  of  the  Pulmonata  to  ter-  form  aiiuatic  pui. 
restrial  life  has  entailed  little  modification  "°'^'*- 
of  the  internal  organization.  The  vascular  system  appears 
to  be  more  complete  in  them  than  in  other  Gastropoda, 
fine  vessels  and  even  capillaries  being  present  in  place  of 
lacunae,  in  which  arteries  and  veins  find  theii'  meeting- 
point.  The  subject  has  not,  however,  been  investigated 
by  the  proper  methods  of  recent  histology,  and  our  know- 


ledge of  it,  as  of  the  vascular  system  of  Molluscs  generally, 
is  most  unsatisfactory.  In  one  genus  (Planorbis)  the 
plasma  of  the  blood  is  coloured  red  by  hemoglobin,  this 
being  the  only  instance  of  the  pre- 
sence of  this  body  in  the  blood  of 
GlossopBorous  Mollusca,  though  it 
occurs  in  corpuscles  in  the  blood 
of  the  bivalves  Area  and  Solen 
(Lankestcr,  31). 

The  generative  apparatus  of  the  ^j 
Snail  (Helix)  may  serve  as  an  ex- 
ample of  the  hermaphrodite  appa- 
ratus common  to  the  Pulmonata 
and  Opisthobranchia  (fig.  72*). 
From  the  ovo- testis,  which  lies 
near  the  apex  of  the  visceral  coil, 
a  common  hermaphrodite  duct  v.e 
proceeds,  which  receives  the  duct 
of  the  compact  white  albumini- 
parous  gland  E.d.,  and  then  be- 
comes much  enlarged,  the  addi- 
tional width  being  due  to  the 
development  of  glandular  folds, 
which  are  regarded  as  forming  a 
uterus  u.  Where  these  folds  cease 
the  conmion  duct  splits  into  two 

portions,  a   male   and  a  female.  fio.72«.— HermaDhrcxuterepro- 
The  male  duct  v.d  becomes  fleshy    Sn^au^KS^).^ 

ovo-testis :  tJ.e,  hermaphro- 
dite duct ;  E.d,,  albmninipar. 
oiLt  glaud;  w,  uterine  dilata- 
tion of  the  hcnnaphrxjdite 
duct ;   d,   digitate   accessory 

ids  on  the  female  duct ; 

calciferous  gland  or  dart- 
3ao  on  the  female  duct ;  B.f, 
spermatheca  or  receptacle  of 
the  sperm  in  copulation,  open- 


and  muscular  near  its  termination 
at  the  genital  pore,  forming  the 
penis  p.  Attached  to  it  is  a  diver- 
ticulum Jl.,  in  which  the  sperraa-  gland's 
tozoa  which  have  descended  from 
the  ovo-testis  are  stored  and  mo- 
delled into  sperm  ropes  or  sperma- 
tophores.  The  female  portion  of 
the  duct  is  more  complex.  Soon 
after  quitting  the  uterus  it  is  joined  by  a  long  duct  leading 
from  a  glandular  sac,  the  spermatheca  (S/).  In  this  duct 
and  sac  the  spennatophores  received  in  copulation  from 
another  snail  are  lodged.    In  Selix  horteneis  the  speiin&' 


g  into  the  female  duct ;  v.d, 
male  duct  (vas  defe«s»s) ;  p, 
penis ;  fl.,  Cagellum. 


theca  is  simple.  In  other  species  of  Helix  a  second  duct 
(as  large  in  ffelix  aspersa  as  the  chief  one)  is  givui  off  from 
the  spermathecal  duct,  and  in  the  natural  state  is  closely 
adherent  to  the  wall  of  the  uterus.  This  second  duct  has 
normally  no  spermathecal  gland  at  its  termination,  which 
is  simple  and  blunt.  But  in  rare  cases  in  Heluc  aspena  a 
second  spermatheca  is  found  at  the  end  of  this  second  duct. 
Tracing  the  widening  female  duct  onwards  we  now  come 
to  the  openings  of  the  digitate  accessory  glands  d,  d,  which 
probably  assist  in  the  formation  of  the  egg-capsule.  Close 
to  them  is  the  remarkable  dart-sac  ps,  a  thick-walled  sac, 
in  the  lumen  of  which  a  crystalline  four-fluted  rod  or  dart 
consisting  of  carbonate  of  lime  is  found.  It  is  supposed 
to  act  in  some  way  as  a  stimulant  in  copulation,  but  pos- 
sibly has  to  do  with  the  calcareous  covering  of  the  egg- 
capsule.  Other  Pulmonata  exhibit  variations  of  secondary 
importance  in  the  details  of  this  hermaphrodite  apparatus. 

The  nervous  system  of  Helix  is  not  favourable  as  an 
example  on  account  of  the  fusion  of  the  ganglia  to  form 
an  almost  uniform  ring  of  nervous  matter  around  the 
cesophagus.  The  Pond-Snail  (Limnseus)  furnishes,  on  the 
other  hand,  a  very  beautiful  case  of  distinct  ganglia  and 
connecting  cords  (fig.  22).  The  demonstration  which  it 
aftbrds  of  the  extreme  shortening  of  the  Euthyneurous  vis- 
ceral nerve-loop  is  most  instructive  and  valuable  for  com- 
parison with  and  explanation  of  the  condition  of  the  nervous 
centres  in  Cephalopoda,  as  also  of  some  Opisthobranchia. 
The  figure  (fig.  22)  is  sufiSciently  described  in  the  letter- 
press attached  to  it ;  the  pair  of  buccal  gangUa  joined  by 
the  connectives  to  the  cerebrals  are,  as  in  most  of  our  figures, 
omitted.  Here  we  need  only  further  draw  attention  to  the 
osphradium,  discovered  by  Lacaze  Duthiers  (32),  and  shown 
by  Spengel  to  agree  in  its  innervation  with  that  organ  in  all 
other  Gfastropoda.  On  accoimt  of  the  shortness  of  the 
visceral  loop  and  the  proximity  of  the  right  visceral 
ganglion  to  the  oesophageal  nerve-ring,  the  nerve  to  the 
osphradium  and  olfactory  ganglion  is  very  long.  The  posi- 
tion of  the  osphradium  con-esponds  more  or  less  closely 
with  that  of  the  vanished  right  ctenidium,  with  which  it  is 
normally  associated.  In  HeUx  and  Limax  the  osphradium 
has  not  been  described,  and  possibly  its  discovery  might 
clear  up  the  doubts  which  have  been  raised  as  to  the  nature 
of  the  mantle-chamber  of  those  genera.  In  Planorbis,  which 
is  dexiotropic  (as  are  a  few  other  genera  or  exceptional 
varieties  of  various  Anisopleurous  Gastropods)  instead  of 
being  leiotropic,  the  osphradium  is  on  the  left  side,  and 
receives  its  nerve  from  the  left  visceral  ganglion,  the  whole 
series  of  unilateral  organs  being  reversed.  This  is,  as  might 
be  expected,  what  is  found  to  be  the  case  in  all  "  reversed  " 
Gastropods.  It  is  also  the  case  in  the  Puimonate  Auricula, 
which  is  leiotropic. 

The  shell  of  the  Pulmonata,  though  always  light  and 
delicate,  is  in  many  cases  a  well-developed  spiral  "  house," 
into  which  the  creature  can  withdraw  itself ;  and,  although 
the  foot  possesses  no  operculum,  yet  in  Helix  the  aperture 
of  the  shell  is  closed  in  the  winter  by  a  complete  lid,  the 
"hybernaculum,"  more  or  less  calcareous  in  nature,  which 
is  secreted  by  the  foot.  In  ClausiHa  a  peculiar  modifica^ 
tion  of  this  lid  exists  permanently  in  the  adult,  attached 
by  an  elastic  stalk  to  the  mouth  of  the  shell,  and  known  as 
the  "  clausilium."  In  Ijimnaeus  the  permanent  shell  is 
preceded  in  the  embryo  by  a  weU-marked  shell-gland  or 
primitive  shell-sac  (fig.  72***),  at  one  time  supposed  to  be 
the  developing  anus,  but  shown  by  Lankester  to  be  identical 
with  the  "  shell-gland "  discovered  by  him  in  other  Mol- 
lusca (Pisidium,  Pleurobranchidium,  Neritina,  ic).  As  in 
other  Gastropoda  Anisopleura,  this  shell-sac  may  abnorm- 
ally develop  a  plug  of  chitonous  matter,  but  normally  it 
flattens  out  and  disappears,  whilst  the  cap-like  rudiment  jf 
the  permanent  shell  is  shed  out  from  the  dome-like  surfact 


662 


MOLLUSCA 


[POLMONATA. 


of  the  yiaceral  hump,  in  the  centre  of  which  the  shell-sac 
existed  for  a  brief  period. 

In  Clausilia,  according  to  the  observations  of  Gcgenbairr, 
the  primitive  shell-sac  does  not  flatten  out  and  disappear, 
but  takes  the  form  of  a  flattened  closed  sac.  Within  this 
closed  sac  a  plate  of  calcareous  matter  is  developed,  and 
after  a  time  the  upper  wall  ci  the  sac  disappears,  and  the 
calcareous  plate  continues  to  grow  as  the  nucleus  of  the 
permanent  shell  In  the  slug  Testacella  (fig.  69,  C)  the 
shell-plate  never  attains  a  large  size,  though  naked.  In 
other  slugs,  namely,  Limax  and  Arion,  the  shell-sac  remains 
permanently  closed  over  the  shell-plate,  which  in  the  latter 
genus  consists  of  a  granular  mass  of  carbonate  of  lime. 
The  permanence  of  the  primitive  shell-sac  in  these  slugs  is 
a  point  of  considerable  interest.  It  is  clear  enough  that 
the  sac  is  of  a  diflfercnt  origin  from  that  of  Aplysia  (described 
jn  the  section  treating  of  Opisthobranchia),  being  primitive 
instead  of  secondary.  It  seems  probable  that  it  is  identical 
with  one  of  the  open  sacs  in  which  each  shell-plate  of  a 
Chiton  is  formed,  and  the  series  of  plate-like  imbrications 
■which  are  placed^  behind  the  single  shell-sao  on  the  dorsum 
of  the  curious  slug,  Plectrophorus,  suggest  the  possibility 
of  the  formation  of  a  series  of  sheU-sacs  on  the  back  of 
that  animal  similar  to  those  which  we  find  in  Chiton. 
Whether  the  closed  primitive  shell-sac  of  the  slugs  (and 
with  it  the  transient  embryonic  shell-gland  of  all  other 
MoUusca)  is  precisely  the  same  thing  as  the  closed  sac  in 
which  tt?  calcareous  pea  or  shell  of  the  Cephalopod  Sepia 


Fia  72**. — Coraparative  dlaeranu  of         .        , 

embryo  Cuttle-fish,  Loligo  (right),    gh,  internal  eYieii ;  pfc,  e  _      

organ  (Stlobcl'a  canal)  In  Umax  ;  ml,  edge  of  the  mantle-Sap  In  Loligo ;  op, 
cephalic  eye ;  t,  cephalic  tentacle  ;  m,  position  of  the  mouth  ;  Ft,  tlie  foot ; 
Fv,  the  hinder  part  of  the  foot  drawn  out  to  form  the  funnel  of  Loligo  ;  coti, 
the  contractile  yelk-eac  or  hernia-Uke  protnialon  of  the  mid-region  of  the  foot, 
correaponding  to  the  line  of  closure  of  the  blastopore  in  LimnEeua.  N.B. — 
The  blastopore  in  the  embryo  of  Loligo,  which,  like  that  of  a  bird,  is  much 
distorted  by  excess  of  food-yelk,  docs  doae  at  the  extremity  of  the  yeU£-sao 
«D».    (Original) 

and  its  allies  is  formed,  is  a  further  question,  which 'we 
shall  consider  when  dealing  with  the  Cephalopoda.  It 
is  important  here  to  note  that  Clausilia  fumiiihes  us 
with  an  exceptional  instance  of  the  contimtily  of  the  shell 
or  secreted  product  of  the  primitive  shell-sac  with  the 
adult  shelL  In  most  other  Molluaca  (Axiisopleurous 
Gastropods,  Pteropods,  and  Conchifera)  there  is  a  want  of 
such  continuity ;  the  primitive  shell-sac  contributes  no 
factor  to  the  permanent  shell,  or  only  a  very  minute  knob- 
Uke  particle  (Neritina  and  Paludina).  It  flattens  out  and 
disappears  before  the  work  of  forming  the  pennancat  shell 
commences.  And  just  as  there  is  a  break  at  this  stage, 
DO  (as  observed  by  Krohn  in  Marsenia  =  Echiuospira)  there 
may  be  a  break  at  a  later  stage,  the  nautiloid  shell  formed 
on  the  larva  being  cast,  and  a  new  shell  of  a  different  fonii 
being  formed  afresh  on  the  surface  of  the  visceral  hiunp. 
It  is,  then,  in  this  sense  that  we  may  speak  of  primary, 
secondary,  and  tertiary  shells  in  MoUusca,  recognizing  the 
fact  that  they  may  be  merely  phases  fused  by  continuity 
of  growth  so  as  to  form  but  one  shell,  or  that  in  other 
cases  they  may  be  presented  to  us  as  separate  individual 
things,  in  virtue  of  the  non-development  of  the  later  phases. 


or  in  virtue  of  sudden  changes  in  the  activity  of  the  mantle- 
surface  causing  the  shedding  or  disappearance  of  one  phase 
of  shell-formation  before  a  later  one  i»  entered  upon. 

The  development  of  the  aquatic  Pulmonata  from  the 
egg  oflers  considerable  facilities  for.  study,  and  that  of 
LimiuEus  has  been  elucidated  by  Lank&ter,  whilst  Eabl 
has  with  remarkable  skill  applied  the  method  of  sections 
to  the  study  of  the  minute  embryos  of  Planorbis.  The 
chief  features  in  the  development  of  Limn*us  are  exhibited 
in  the  woodcuts  (figs.  3,  4,  and  72***).  There  \s  not  a 
very  large  amount  of  food-material  present  in  the  egg  of 
this  snail,  and  accordingly  the  cells  'resulting  from  division 
are  not  so  unequal  as  in  many  other  cases.  The  four  cells 
first  formed  are  of  equal  size,  and  then  four  smaller  cells 
are  formed  by  division  of  these  four  so  as  to  lie  at 
one  end  of  the  first  four  (the  pole  corresponding  to 
that  at  which  the  "  directive  coi-puscles  "  dc  are  extruded 
and  remain).  The  smaller  cells  now  divide  and  spread 
over  the  four  larger  cells  (fig.  3) ;  at  the  same  time  a  space 


Pio.  72'*^-— Embryo  otLimnrnva  sUignalU,  at  a  stage  when  the  TTWbo#pher« 
is  developing  foot  and  shell-gland  and  becoming  a  Vellger,  seen  as  a  transparent 
object  under  slight  pressure,  ph,  pharynx  (stomodEeal  invagination) ;  v,  v, 
the  ciliated  band  marking  out  the  velum ;  715,  cerebral  nerve-ganglion ;  Tt, 
Stlebel's  canal  (left  sldeX  probably  an  cvaneacent  embryonic  nepnridinm ;  r^ 
the  primitive  shell-sac  or  shell-gland  ;  pi,  the  rectal  peduncle  or  pedicle  of 
invagination,  its  attachment  to  the  ectoderm  Is  coincident  with  the  nmdmost 
extremity  of  the  elongated  blastopore  of  fig.  S,  0 ;  tye,  mesoblaaUc  (skeleto- 
trophic  and  musicular)  cells  investing  gi,  the  bilobed  arch-enteron  or  lateral 
vesicles  of  invagiuated  endoderm,  wUicll  will  develop  into  liver ;  /,  the  foot. 
(Orisinol.) 

— the  cleavage  cavity  or  blastocoel — forms  in  the  centre 
of  the  mulberry-like  mass.  Then  the  large  cells  recom- 
mence the  process  of  division  and  sink  into  the  hollow 
of  the  sphere,  leaving  an  elongated  groove,  the  blastopore, 
on  the  surface  (fig.  3,  C,  and  fig,  4,  G).  The  invaginated 
cells  (derived  from  the  division  of  the  four  big  ceUs)  form 
the  endoderm  or  arch-entcron  ;  the  outer  cells  are  the  ecto- 
derm. The  blastopore  now  closes  along  the  middle  part  of 
its  course,  which  coincides  in  position  with  the  future  "foot" 
One  end  of  the  blastopore  becomes  nearly  closed,  and  an 
ingrowth  of  ectoderm  takes  place  around  it  to  iorm  the 
stomodoeum  or  fore-gut  and  moutL  The  other  extreme 
end  closes,  but  the  invaginated  endoderm  cells  remain  in 
continuity  vntii  this  extremity  of  the  blastopore,  and  form 
the  "rectal  peduncle"  or  "pedicle  of  invagination"  of 
Lankester  (see  also  the  account  and  figures  (fig.  151,  A)  of 
the  develojiment  of  the  bivalve  Pisidium),  although  the 
endoderm  cells  retain  no  contact  with  the  middle  rtuion 
of  the  now  closed-up  blastopore.  The  anal  opening  forms 
at  a  late  period  by  a  very  short  ingrowth  or  proctodseum 
coinciding  with  the  blind  termination  of  the  rectal  peduncle 
(fig.  73***  pi). 

The  body-cavity  and  the  muscular,  fibrous,  and  vascukr 
tissues  are  traced   partly  to  two  symmetricaHy-dispoaed 


BCAPHOPODiLj 


M(JLLUSCA 


669 


"mesoblasts,"  which  bnd  off  from  the  isTaginatcd  stfch- 
enleron,  partly  to  cells  derived  from  the  ectoderm,  which 
at  a  very  early  stage  is  connected  by  long  processes  with 
the  invaginated  endoderm,  as  shown  in  fig.  3,  D.  The  ex- 
ternal form  of  the  embryo  goes  through  ths  same  changes 
as  in  other  Qastropods,  and  is  not,  as  was  held  previously 
to  Lankester's  observations,  exceptional.  When  the  middle 
and  hinder  regions  of  the  blastopore  are  closing  in,  an 
equatorial  ridge  of  ciliated  cells  is  formed,  converting  the 
embryo  into  a  typical  "  Trochosphere  "  (fig.  4,  E,  F). 

The  foot  now  protrudes  below  the  mouth  (fig.  4),  and  the 
post-oral  hemispkereof  the  Trochosphere  grows  more  rapidly 
than  the  anterior  or  velar  area.  The  young  foot  shows  a 
bilobed  form  (fig.  4,  D,  /).  Within  the  velar  area  the  eyes 
and  the  cephalic  tentacles  commence  to  rise  up  (fig.  4,  D,  <), 
and  on  the  surface  of  the  post-oral  region  is  formed  a  cap- 
like shell  and  an  encircling  ridge,  which  gradually  increases 
in  prominence  and  becomes  the  freely  depending  mantle- 
skirt.  The  outline  of  the  velar  area  becomes  strongly 
emarginated  and  can  be  traced  through  the  more  mature 
embryos  to  the  cephalic  lobes  or  labial  processes  of  the 
adult  Limnaeus  (fig.  70). 

This  permanence  of  the  distinction  of  the  part  known 
as  the  velar  area  through  embryonic  life  to  the  adult  state 
is  exceptional  among  Mollusca,  and  is  therefore  a  point  of 
especial  interest  in  Limnasus.  None  of  the  figures  of 
adult  Limnaeus  in  recent  works  on  Zoology  show  properly 
the  form  of  the  head  and  these  velar  lobes,  and  accordingly 
the  figures  here  given  have  been  specially  sketched  for  the 
present  article.  The  increase  of  the  visceral  dome,  its 
spiral  twisting,  and  the  gradual  closure  of  the  space  over- 
hung by  the  mantle-skirt  so  as  to  convert  it  into  a  lung-sac 
with  a  small  contractile  aperture,  belong  to  stages  in  the 
development  later  than  any  represented  in  our  figures. 

We  may  now  revert  briefly  to  the  internal  organization 
at  a  period  when  the  Trochosphere  is  beginning  to  show  a 
prominent  foot  growing  out  from  the  area  where  the  mid- 
region  of  the  elongated  blastopore  was  situated,  and  having 
therefore  at  one  end  of  it  the  mouth  and  at  the  other  the 
anus.  Fig.  72***  represents  such  an  embryo  under  slight 
compression  as  seen  by  transmitted  light.  The  ciliated 
band  of  the  left  side  of  the  velar  area  is  indicated  by  a 
line  extending  from  t)  to  w ;  the  foot/  is  seen  between  the 
pharynx  ph  and  the  pedicle  of  invagination  pi.  The  mass 
of  the  arch-enteron  or  invaginated  endodermal  sac  has 
taken  on  a  bilobed  form  (compare  Pisidinm,  fig.  151),  and 
its  cells  are  swollen  {gs  and  tge).  This  bilobed  sac  becomes 
entirely  the  liver  in  the  adult ;  the  intestine  and  stomach 
are  formed  from  the  pedicle  of  invagination,  whilst  the 
pharynx,  oesophagus,  and  crop  form  from  the  stomodaeal 
invagination  ph.  To  the  right  (in  the  figure)  of  the 
rectal  peduncle  is  seen  the  deeply  invaginated  shell-gland 
n,  with  a  secretion  sh  protruding  from  it.  The  sheU-gland 
is  destined  in  Limnaeus  to  become  very  rapidly  stretched 
out,  and  to  disappear.  Farther  up,  within  the  velar  area, 
the  rudiments  of  the  cerebral  nerve-ganglion  ng  are  seen 
separating  from  the  ectoderm.  A  remarkable  cord  of  cells 
having  a  position  just  below  the  integument  occurs  on  each 
side  of  the  head.  In  the  figure  the  cord  of  the  left  side  is 
seen,  marked  re.  This  paired  organ  consists  of  a  string  of 
cells  which  are  perforated  by  a  duct.  The  opening  of  the 
duct  at  either  end  is  not  known.  Such  cannulated  cells 
are  characteristic  of  the  nephridia  of  many  worms,  and  it 
is  held  that  the  organs  thus  formed  in  the  embryo  Limnaous 
are  embryonic  nephridia.  The  most  important  fact  about 
them  is  that  they  disappear,  and  are  in  no  way  connected 
with  the  typical  nephridium  of  the  adult.  In  reference 
to  their  first  observer  they  are  conveniently  called  "Stiebel'^ 
canals."  Other  Pulmonata  possess,  when  embryos,  Stiebel's 
canals  in  a  more  folly-developed  state,  for  instance,  the 


common  sing  Limax  (fig.  72**,  pic).  Here  too  they  disap- 
pear during  embryonic  life.  FurUier  knowledge  concern- 
ing them  is  greatly  needed.  It  is  not  clear  whether  there 
is  anything  equivalent  to  them  in  the  embryos  of  marine 
Gastropoda  or  other  Mollusca,  the  ectodermal  cells  called 
"  embryonic  renal  organs"  in  some  Gastropod  embryos  hav- 
ing only  a  remote  resemblance  to  them.  The  three  pairs 
of  transient  embryonic  nephridia  of  the  medicinal  leech, 
the  ciliated  cephalic  pits  of  Nemertines,  and  the  anterior 
nephridia  of  Gfephyneans,  all  suggest  themselves  for  com- 
parison with  these  enigmatical  canals. 

Marine  Pvlmonata. — Whilst  the  Pulmonata  are  essen- 
tially a  terrestrial  and  fresh-water  group,  there  is  one 
genus  of  slug-like  Pulmonates  which  frequent  the  sea- 
coast  (Peronia,  fig.  72),  whilst  their  immediate  congeners 
(Onchidium)  are  foimd  in  marshes  of  brackish  water.  Sem- 
per (33)  has  shown  that  these  slugs  have,  in  addition  to 
the  usual  pair  of  cephalic  eyes,  a  number  of  eyes  developed 
upon  the  dorsal  integument.  These  dorsal  eyes  are  very 
perfect  in  elaboration,  possessing  lens,  retinal  nerve-end 
cells,  retinal  pigment,  and  optic  nerve.  Curiously  enough, 
however,  they  difi'er  from  the  cephalic  MoUuscan  eye  (for 
an  account  of  which  see  fig.  118)  in  the  fact  that,  as  in 
the  vertebrate  eye,  the  filaments  of  the  optic  nerve  pene- 
trate the  retina,  and  are  connected  with  the  surfaces  of  the 
nerve-end  ceUs  nearer  the  lens  instead  of  with  the  opposite 
end.  The  significance  of  this  arrangement  is  not  known, 
but  it  is  important  to  note,  as  shown  by  Hensen,  Hickson, 
and  oiihers,  that  in  the  bivalves  Pecten  and  Spondylus, 
which  also  have  eyes  upon  the  mantle  quite  distinct  from 
typical  cephalic  eyes,  there  is  the  same  relationship  as  in 
Onchidiadae  of  the  optic  nerve  to  the  retinal  cells  (fig.  145). 
In  both  Onchidiads  and  Pecten  the  pallial  eyes  have  prob- 
ably been  developed  by  the  modification  of  tentacles,  such 
as  coexist  in  an  unmodified  form  with  the  eyes.  The 
Onchidiadas  are,  according  to  Semper,  pursued  as  food 
by  the  leaping  fish  Periophthalmus,  and  the  dorsal  eyes 
are  of  especial  value  to  them  in  aiding  ■  them  to  escape 
from  this  enemy. 

Class  n.— SCAPHOPODA. 
Characters. — Molliisca  Glossophora  with  the  foot  adapted 
to  a  BiTREOWTNG  life  in  sand  (figs.  73,  74,  /).     The  body, 


Fio.  73.— PejitoJium  vulgare,  Da  C.  (afler  Lacaie  Duthiers).  .  A.  Ventral  ri«^ 
of  the  aDJinal  removed  from  its  shell.  B.  Dorsal  view  of  the  same.  C.  Lato- 
ral  view  of  the  same.  D.  The  shell  in  section.  E.  Surface  view  of  the  sheH 
with  gill-tentacles  eiserted  aa  in  life,  a,  mantle  ;  a',  longitudinal  muscle ; 
o",  fnnge-  surrounding  the  anterior  opening  of  the  mantle-chamber ;  a  .the 
posterior  appendix  of  the  mantle  ;  b,  anterior  circular  muscle  of  the  mantie  ; 
V,  post«rior  do. ;  c,  c",  longitudinal  muscle  of  mantle  ;  e,  liver ;  /  gonad  ;  1-, 
buccal  mas3(8howing  through  the  mantle);  o,  left  nephridium ;  i-,  club-shapcj 
extremity  of  tlie  foot ;  w,  Iff,  longitudinal  blood-sinua  of  the  mjmtle. 

and  to  a  much  greater  extent  the  mantle-skirt  and  the  foot 
are  elongated  along  the  primitive  antero-posterior  (oro-a<ial 


664 


MOLLUSCA 


[cephalopoda. 


axis,  and  retain,  both  externally  and  in  the  disposition  of 
internal  organs,  the  archi-Molluscaji  BiLATEEAi  symmetey. 
The  margins  of  the  mantle-skirt  of  opposite  sides  (right 
and  left)  meet  below  the  foot  and  fuse  by  concrescence ; 
only  a  small  extent  in  front  and  a  small  extent  behind  of 
the  mantle-margin  is  left  unfused.  Thus  a  cyldtoeical 
FOEM  is  attained  by  the  mantle,  and  on  its  surface  a  tubu- 
lar shell  (incomplete  along  the  ventral  line  in  the  youngest 
stages)  is  secreted  (fig.  73,  D). '  The  foot  is  greatly  elon- 
gated, and  can  be  protruded  from  the  anterior  mantle- 
aperture.  It  has  a  characteristic  clavate  form  (fig.  74,  /). 
The  pair  of  typical  ctenidla  are  symmetrically  dove- 
loped  in  the  form  of  numerous  eill-filaments  (fig.  74,  A,  g) 


margins  (a)  reflected  so  as  to  expose  the  foot,  snout,  and  glils.  B.  Lateral 
view  wth  organs  showing  as  thouch  by  transparency.  C.  Similar  lateral 
view  to  show  the  number  and  position  of  the  nei-ve-ganglia  and  cords,  a, 
the  mantle-skirt ;  6,  anterior  free  margin  of  the  same  ;  c,  hinder  extension  of 
the  mantle-skirt ;  d,  the  appendix  of  the  mantle-skirt  separated  by  a  valve 
ft-ora  the  peri-anal  portion  of  the  snb-pallial  chamber,  h ;  c,  the  snout  or  oral 
process ;  /  the  foot ;  g,  the  ctenidial  filaments ;  A,  the  peri-anal  part  of  the 
BUb-pallial  chamber ;  i,  the  peri-oral  p.irt  of  the  same  chamber ;  if,  the  anus ; 
/,  the  left  nephridium ;  m,  the  mouth  surrounded  by  pinnate  tentacles ;  n, 
the  buccal  mass  and  odontophore ;  o,  oesopliag:us ;  p,  the  left  lobe  of  the 
liver;  f).p,  pedal  ganglion-pair;  g.c,  cerebiat  ganglion-pair;  g.pl,  pleural 
ganglion-pair;  p.r,  visceral  ganglion-pair.  Possibly  further  research  will 
show  that  g.pl  is  the  typical  visceral  g,~nglion-pair,  and  that  ?.v  is  a  pair  of 
olfactory  ganglia  placed  on  the  visceral  loop  as  in  the  Lipocephala  according 
to  SpengeL 

placed  at  the  base  of  the  cylindrical  cephalic  prominence 
or  snout  (fig.  74,  e).  A  pair  of  nepheldia  (fig.  74,  .')  are 
present,  opening  near  the  anus  (fig.  74,  h).  The  right 
serves  as  a  genital  duct,  the  left  is  apparently  renal  in 
function.  The  livee  (p)  is  large  and  bilobed,  the  lobes 
divided  into  parallel  lobules.  The  nekve-gakgua  are 
present  (fig.  74,  C!)  as  well-marked  cerebral,  pleural,  pedal, 
and  visceral  jxiir."  the  tyjiical  pleural  pair  being  closely 
joined  to  the  ceroljral.  The  visceral  loop  or  commissure  is 
tmtwisted,  that  is  to  say,  the  Scaphopoda  are  euthyneup.- 
ous.  Heaet  and  distinct  vessels  are  not  developed ;  a 
colourless  blood  is  contained  in  the  sinuses  and  networks 
formed  by  the  body-cavity.  The  gon^ld.s  are  either  male 
or  female,  the  sexes  being  distinct. 

The  embyro  is  remarkable  for '  developing  five  ciliStSd 
rings  posterior  to  the  ciliated  ring  and  tuft  characteristic 
of  the  trochosphero  larval  condition  of  Molluscs  generally. 
These  rings  are  comparable  to  those  of  the  larva  of  Pneu- 
modermon  (fig.  84),  and  like  them  disappear. 

The  class  Scaphopoda  is  not  divisible  into  orders  or 
families.  It  contains  only  three  genera :  Dentalium,  L.  (figs. 
73,   74) ;   Siphonodentalium,   Sars.  ;   and  Entalium,   Dfr. 


They  inhabit   exclusively  the   sand  on  the   sea-coast    ir 
depths  of  from  10  to  100  fathom 

It  is  worthy  of  remark  that  the  Scaphopoda  constitute 
among  the  Glossophora  a  parallel  to  the  sand-boring  forms 
so  common  among  the  Lipocephala  (such  as  Solen  and  Mya). 
This  parallelism  is  seen  in  the  special  mode  of  elongation 
of  the  body,  in  the  form  of  the  foot,  and  in  the  tubular 
form  of  the  mantle  brought  about  by  the  concrescence  of 
its  ventral  margins,  as  in  the  Lipocephala  mentioned. 
The  cylindrical  shell  of  Dentalium  is  also  comparable  to 
the  two  semi-cylindrical  valves  of  the  shell  of  Solen ;  or, 
better,  to  the  tubular  shell  of  .Aspergillum  and  Teredo. 
Nevertheless,  it  is  necessary  to  consider  the  Scaphopoda  as 
standing  far  apart  from  the  Lipocephala,  and  as  having  no 
special  genetic  but  only  a  homoplastic  relationship  to  them, 
in  consequence  of  their  possessing  a  well-developed  odonto- 
phore, the  characteristic  organ  of  the  Glossophora  nevei 
possessed  by  any  Lipocephala. 

Class  m.— CEPHALOPODA. 

,  Characters. — Mollusca  Glossophora  with  the  foot  prim- 
arily adapted  to  a  peee-swiiimln"o  mode  of  life.  The 
archi-MolIuscan  bilatfjcal  sysimetev  predominates  both 
in  the  external  and  internal  organs  generally,  though  in 
many  cases  (especially  the  smaller  forms)  a  one-sided  dis- 
placement of  primitively  median  organs  and  a  suppression 
of  one  of  the  primitively  paired  organs  is  to  be  noted. 

An  ANTEKiflE,  MEDIAN,  and  POSTEEiOE  regiori  of  the 
foot  can  be  distinguished  (fig.  75,  (4),  (5),  (6)),  corre- 
sponding to  but  probably  not  derived  from  the  pro-,  meso-. 


a  \ 

(3) 

(5)        /^  "•^         i^^(6) 


Fio.  75.— Diagrams  of  a  series  of  Molluscs  to  show  the  form  of  the  foot  ond  ita 
regions,  and  the  Kil;!tion  of  tlic  visceral  hump  to  the  antero-posterior  untl 
doi-so-vcntral  axes,  (ii  '.  >  i  *  i  i^  A  I.jimellibranch.  (3)  An  AulsopleuH 
ouB  Gastropod.     (-1)  .\    i  -   Ptcropod.     (5)  A  GyTOuosomatous 

Ptcropod.     (6)  A  Si  I  ill       :     !  '  A,  P,  an tero- posterior  horizontal 

axis:  D,  V,  doreo-vrnii.;!  .  1 ;  M  ii  .  s  at  right  nnglps  to  A,  P;  o,  raoutJi ; 
a  anna;  um,  cdue  of  tlu^  m.uii!.  m-hL  or  flap;  yp,  sub-pallial  chamtteroi 
space  ;  /,-fore-loot ;  iti/,  uudCojC ;  /i/,  hind-foot ;  *r,  cepkvlio  eyes  ;  erf,  Cfintro- 
doraal  point  (in  0  only). 

and  meta-podium  of  Gastropoda.  The  fore-foot  invariably 
has  the  HEAD  MKROED  into  it,  and  grows  up  on  each  sid« 
(right  and  left)  of  that  part  so  as  to  surround  the  mouth, 
the  two  upgrowths  of  the  fore-foof  meeting  oit  the  dorsal 
aspect  of  the  snout, — whence  the  name  Cephalopoda.  In 
tbc  more  typical  forms  of  both  branches  of  the  class,  the 
pori^oral  portion  of  the  foot  is  drawn  out  into  paired  arm- 


PTKEOPODA.] 


MOLLUSCA 


665 


like  processes,  either  very  short  and  conical  (Clio,  Eurybia), 
or  lengthy  (Pneumodermon,  Octopus)  ;  these  may  be  beset 
with  suckers  or  hooks,  or  both.  The  mid-foot  (fig.  75,  nf) 
is  expanded  into  a  pair  of  muscular  lobes  right  and  left, 
which  either  are  used  for  striking  the  water  like  the  wings 
of  a  butterfly  (Pteropoda),  or  are  bent  round  towards  one 
another  so  that  their  free  margins  meet  and  constitute  a 
short  tube, — the  siphon  or  funnel  (Siphonopoda).  The  hind 
foot  is  either  very  small  or  absent. 

A  distinctive  featuie  of  the  Cephalopoda  is  the  absence 
of  anything  like  the  toesion  of  the  visceral  mass  seen  in 
the  Anisopleurous  Gastropoda,  although  as  an  exception 
this  torsion  occurs  in  one  family  (the  Limacinidse). 

The  ANUS,  although  it  may  be  a  little  displaced  from 
the  median  line,  is  (except  in  Limacinida;)  approximately 
median  and  posterior.  The  mantle-skirt  may  be  aborted 
(Gymnosomatous  Pteropoda) ;  when  present  it  is  deeply 
produced  posteriorly,  forming  a  large  sub-pallial  chamber 
around  the  anus.  As  in  our  schematic  Mollusc,  by  the  side 
of  the  anus  are  placed  the  single  or  paired  apertures  of  the 
KEPHRroiA,  the  GENlTAt,  APERTUTvES  (paired  only  in  Nau- 
.tilus,  in  female  Octopoda,  female  Ommastrephes,  and  male 
Eledone),  and  the  paired  ctenidia  (absent  in  all  Pteropoda). 
The  VISCERAL  HUMP  or  dome  b  elevated,  and  may  be  very 
much  elongated  (see  fig.  75,  (4),  (5),  (6))  in  a  direction 
almost  at  right  angles  to  the  primary  horizontal  axis  (A,  P 
in  fig.  75)  of  the  foot. 

A  SEELL  is  frequently,  but  not  invariably,  secreted  on 
the  visceral  hump  and  mantle-skirt  of  Cephalopoda  ;  but 
there  are  both  Pteropoda  and  Siphonopoda  devoid  of  any 
shell.  The  shell  is  usually  light  in  substance  or  lightened 
by  air-chambers  in  correlation  with  the  free-swimming 
habits  of  the  Cephalopoda.  It  may  be  external,  when  it  is 
box-like  or  boat-like,  or  internal,  when  it  is  plate-like.  Very 
numerous  minute  pigmented  sacs  capable  of  expansion  and 
contraction,  and  known  as  CHP.OMATOPHor.!:.?,  are  usually 
present  in  the  integument  in  both  branches  of  the  class.  The 
GONADS  of  both  sexes  are  developed  in  one  individual  in  some 
Cephalopoda  (Pteropoda),  in  others  the  sexes  are  separate. 

Sense-oroans,  especially  the  cephalic  eyes  and  the  oto- 
cysts,  are  veiy  highly  developed  in  the  higher  Cephalopoda. 
The  o.sphradia  have  the  typical  form  and  position  in  the 
lower  forms,  but  appear  to  be  more  or  less  completely 
replaced  by  other  olfactory  organs  in  the  higher.  The 
normal  NEEVE-GANCLLi  are  present,  but  the  connectives  are 
shortened,  and  the  ganglia  concentrated  and  fused  in  the 
cephalic  region.  Large  special  ganglia  (optic,  stellate,  and 
supra-buccal)  ai-e  developed  in  the  higher  forms  (Siphono- 
poda). * 

The  Cephalopoda  exhibit  a  greater  range  from  low  to 
high  organization  than  any  other  Molluscan  class,  and  hence 
they  are  difficult  to  characterize  in  regard  to  several  groups 
of  organs ;  but  they  are  definitely  held  together  by  the 
existence  in  all  of  the  encroachment  of  the  fore-foot  so  as 


Flo.  76.— 5|>iriaZi5  Tmlinwid**,  Bool.,  one  of  the  Limactnlds  enlarged  (from 
Owenl  C  C,  pteropodial  lobes  of  the  mid-foot ;  St  opoxculoia  earned  on  the 
hind-foot ;  ?,  spiral  shell. 

Fio.  77.  —  Operoulnm  of  Splrialls  enlarge(L 

to  surround  the  head,  and  by  the  functionally  important 

BILOBAIION  Of  THE  MJD-FOOT. 


Two  vei-y  distinct  branche,s  of  the  Cephalopoda  are  to 
be  recognized :  the  one,  the  Pteropoda,  more  archaic  in 
the  condition  of  its  bi- 
lobed  mid-foot,  including 
a  number  of  minute,  and 
in  all  probability  degen- 
erate, oceanic  forms  of 
simplified  and  obscure 
organization ;  the  other, 
the  Siphonopoda,  con- 
taining the  Pearly  Nau- 
tilus and  the  Cuttles, 
which  have  for  ages  (as 
their  fossil  remains  show) 
dominated  among  the  in- 
habitants of  the  sea,  be- 
ing more  highly  gifted 
in  special  sense,  more 
varied  in  movement, 
more  powerful  in  pro- 
portion to  size,  and  more 

heavily    equipped    with 

destructive    weapons    of     h'bcsorwing-iikefinso'ttiiemi(f-iootr 

oilence  than  any  other  marine  organisms. 

Branch  a.— PTEROPODA 

Characters. — Cephalopoda  in  which  the  mid-region  of 
the  foot  is  (as  compared  with  the  Siphonopoda)  in  its  more 
primitive  condition,  being 
relatively  largely  developed 
and  drawn  out  into  a  pair 
of  wing-like  muscular  lobes 
(identical  with  the  two  halves 
of  the  siphon  of  the  Siphon- 
opoda) which  are  used  as 
paddles  (see  figs.  76-86).  The 
hind -region  of  the  foot  is 
often  aborted,  but  may  carry 
an  operculum  (figs.  76,  77). 
The  fore-region  of  the  foot 
(that  embracing  the  head)  is 
also  often  rudimentary,  but 
may  be  drawn  out  into  one 
or  more  pairs  of  tentacles, 
simulating  cephalic  tentacles, 
and  provided  with  suckers 
(figs.  84,  85). 

Though  the  visceral  hump 
is  not  twisted  except  in  the 
Limacinidas  (fig.  76),  there  is 
a  very  general  tendency  to 
one-sided  development  of  the 
viscera,  and  of  their  external 
apertures  (as  contrasted  with 
Siphonopoda).  The  ctenidia 
are  aborted,  with  the  possible 
exception  of  the  processes  (fig. 
85,  c)  at  the  end  of  the  body 
of  Pneumodermon.  Ths  vas- 
cular system  resembles  that 
of  the  Gastropoda.     The  ne- 

phridium  is  a  single  tubular  rio.  •a.styUoia  acicuia.  Bang.  ip. 
body   corresponding   to   the     Jf.r.lJ.T",'?  .?r.;f.  , ?'.'':  ?'_!5 
right  nephridium  of  the  typi- 
cal pair  of  the  archi-MoUusc. 

The  anal  aperture  is  usually  "•  ""■•;  ■-'^  i'=™''-<ri'"'dite  gonad, 
placed  a  little  to  the  left  of  the  median  line,  mora  rarely 
to  the  right.  In  the  Limacinidse  it  has  an  exceptional 
position,  owing  to  the  torsion  of  the  visceral  mass,  as  in 

Anisopleurous  Gastropoda.  

XVI.  —  84 


...        "lop 

lilce  lobes  of  the  mid-foot ;  d,  mediAD 
fold  of  same ;  e,  copulatory  organ ;  %, 
pointed  extremity  of  the  sheU;  i,  an- 
tenor  margin  or  tlie  shell;  n,  stomach- 


666 


MOLLUSCA 


[SIPHONOPODA. 


Jaws  and  a  lingual  ribbon  are  present  as  in  typical 
Glossophora,  tha  dtntition  of  the  ribbon  and  the  number  of 
jaw-pieces  presenting  a  certain  range  of  variation.     Sense- 

C 


Flo.  79. — Cavolinia  trUhtitota,  Forfik.  from  rno  McditerraDean,  magnified  two 
tUameters  (fiom  Owen),  n,  mouth  ;  h,  pair  of  cephalic  tentacles ;  C,  C,  ptero. 
podial  lobes  of  the  mid-foot ;  d,  median  iveb  connecting  these ;  «,  e,  proceasea 
of  the  mantle-altirt  reflected  over  the  surface  of  the  shell ;  g,  the  ahell  en- 
closing tlio  visceral  hump;  ft,  the  median  spine  of  the  shell. 

Flo.  ea — Shell  of  Cavotinia  trUUntata,  seen  from  the  side.  /,  postero-doraal 
Burfhce  ;  g,  antero-Tcatral  surface  ;  A,  median  dorsal  spine ;  t,  mouth  of  the 
>hell 

organs  are  present  in  the  form  of  cephalic  eyes  in  very  few 
forms  (Cavolinia,  Clione,  and  in  an  undescribed  form  dis- 
covered by  Suhm  during  the  "Challenger"  Expedition);  oto- 
cysts  are  universally  present.  The  osphradia  are  present 
in  typical  form,  although  the  ctenidia  are  aborted ;  only 
one  osphradium  (the 
right  of  the  tjrpical 
pair)  is  present  (fig. 
87).  The  gonads  aro 
both  male  and  female 
in  the  same  individual. 
The  genital  aperture  is 
single.  Copulatory  or- 
gans, often  of  consider- 
able size,  are  present 
(fij-'-SG,.). 

The  mantle-skirt  is 
present  in  one  divi- 
sion of  the  Pteropoda 
(Thecosomata),  and  in 
these  an  extensive  sub- 
pallial  chamber  is  de- 
veloped, the  walls  of 
which  in  the  absenco 
of  ctenidia  have  9 
branchial  function.  In 
a  second  division  (Gym-  p,n.  Sl.-Embryo  of  CavoUnia  trtdinlata(trom 

nosomata),  which  com-  '^'/l"";  """■  ^'''■';  "•  ""I'.';  ^  "='';''?,  P^r""" 

.     ''     ,  .  of  the  foot;  pn,  pteropouial  lobe  of  the  foot; 

prises  forms  highly  de-  ft,  heart ;  i,  intestine  ;  o(,  otocyst ;  q,  shell ;  r, 

vr-lnnpH     in     rpirnrrl    in  nephridlum ;»,  ojsophagua ;  ir,  sac  containing 

>C10pea    in    regara    to  nutritive  yollc;    vii,   mantle-skirt;    me,   sub- 

the    processes    of     the  pallial  chamber ;  Kn,  coutractile  sinus. 

fore-foot,  the  mantle-skirt  is  aborted.  A  shell  is  developed 
on  the  surface  of  the  vi.sreral  hump  and  mantle-skirt  of  the 
Thecosomata,  whilst  in  the  Gymnosomata,  which  have  no 
mantle-skirt,  there  is  in  the  adult  animal  no  shell.  The 
embryo  passes  through  a  trochosphere  and  a  veliger  stage 
(fig.  81),  provided  with  boat-like  shell,  except  in  some 
Gymnosomata  in  which  the  Trochosphere  with  its  single 
velar  ciliated  band  becomes  metamorphosed  into  a  larva 
which  has  three  additional  ciliated  bands  but  no  velimi 
(resembling  the  larva  of  the  Scaphopod  Dentalium) ;  this 
banded  larva  does  not  form  a  larval  shell  (fig.  84). 
Tlie  Pteropoda  aro  divided  into  two  order.s. 

Order  1. — Thecosomata. 
Characters. — Ptcrojjoda  provided  with  a  laantla-skirt, 


and  with  a  delicate  hyaline  shell  developed  on  the  surface 
of  the  visceral  hump  and  mantl6«kirt ;  visceral  hump,  and 
consequently  the  shell, 
spirally  twisted  in  one 
family,  the  Limacinidas; 
shell  often  with  con- 
tracted mouth  and  di- 
lated body,  its  walls 
sometimes  drawn  out 
into  spine-like  processes, 
which  are  covered  by 
reflexions  of  the  free 
margin  of  the  mantle 
(Cavolinia,  figs.  79,  80). 

Family  1. — Cymb^Uiidm. 
Genera  :      TicdcTnannia, 
Chj. ;  Halopsyche,  The- 
aunjhia  (tim,  82,  83), 
Cymbulia^   P.  and  L. 
(fig.  77a). 
Family    2.  —  Conulariidm 
(fossil). 
Genus  :   Coilularia,  Mill. 
Family  3.  —  TattaculUidm 

(fossil).  Fio.    Sl.  —  TTuKvTyMa    eandlchauM,    8onl., 

Genera  :        TentaculiUa,     C^"  Owenji   Much  enlarged  ;  the  body-»10 

Q-i-ui,    .      n .7,-*-      removed,    a,  the  month  ;  c,  the  pt^ropodtai 

Schth.  ;  Comulilcs,  ,„^  „,  ^-^  ,^^.  y-  the  centiillv- plow* 
Schlth.  ;  ColcQpnon,  hind-foot ;  <J,  I,  «,  three  pairs  of  tentode-Uke 
Sandb.  processes  placed  at  the  sides  of  th*  moatH. 

and  developed  (in  all  probability)  from  the 
fore-foot ;o, anus;  y, genital  pore ; t, retnict«c 


genitalia. 


Family  4. — fftjaleidm. 

Genera:  Triptera,  Q.  ^na     musdea;  oand  c,': 

G. ;  Slyliola,  Lcs,  (fig.  '    ' 

78) ;  Balantium,  Lch.  ;   Vagindla,  Dand.  ;  Cleodor 
L. ;   Dlacriitf   Gr. ;  flcurofnta,    Esch. ;  Cavolinia,  G 
79,  80,  81). 
Family  5.  —  Thccidm. 

Genera  :   Tluca,  Low  ;  PUrothixa,  Salt 
Family  6. — Liviacinidas. 

Genera  :  Ikcylioviphahis,  PortL  ;  Hd^mfnsMji,  Fig. ; 
Spinalis,  E.  S.  (fig.  76);  Limacina,  Cuv. 

Order  2.— Gynuiosoinata. 

Characters.  —  Pteropoda  devoid  of  mantle- 
skirt  and  shell;  tentacular  processes  of  the 
fore-foot  well  developed  and  provided  with 
suckers.  f    J 

Family  1. — Pteroq/modoceidcS. 

Genua  :  Pteroci/modoce,  Ke£  f 'c-  83.— 3heH 

Family  2.—Clionidm.  ^„  '^oS' 

Genera:  Cliodita,  Q.  and  G. ;  Clionopsis,  Trosth. ;    tnslt;    the 

Olione,  Pall.  (fig.  86).  lower    flgnrt 

Family  S.—Pneumodermidm.  tmZ\ul'^' 

Genera  :     Trichocycliis,    Each.  ;     Spcngohrmichia, 

d'Orb. ;  Piienmodermopsis,  Kef. ;  Pntitmoda-nion,  Cuv.  [^g.  85). 

Branch  h.—SIPHOA'OrODA. 
Cephalopoda  in  which  the  two  primarily  divergent  right 
and  left  lobes  of  the  mid-region  of  the  foot  have  their  free 
borders  recui-ved  towards  the  middle  line,  where  they  are 
either  held  in  apposition  (Tetrabranchiata),  or  fused  with 
one  another  to  form  a  complete  cylinder  open  at  each  end 
(Dibranchiata).  This  fissured  or  completely  closed  tube  is 
the  siphon  (fig.  75,  (C),  mf)  characteristic  of  the  Siphono- 
poda,  and  is  used  to  guide  the  stream  of  water  expelled 
by  the  contractions  of  the  walls  of  the  branchial  chamber. 
The  pallial  skirt  i.s  accordingly  well  developed  and  muscular, 
subserving  by  its  contractions  not  only  respiration  but 
locomotion.  The  visceral  hump  is  never  twisted,  and  ac- 
cordingly the  main  development  of  the  pallial  skirt  and 
chamber  is  posterior,  the  excretory  apertures,  anus,  and 
gills  having  a  posterior  position,  as  in  the  archi-Mollusc 
At  the  same  time  the  visceral  hump  is  usually  much  elon- 
gated in  a  direction  corresponding  to  an  oblique  lino  be- 
tween the  vcEtical  dorso-ventral  and  the  horizontal  ant-ero- 
postcrior  axes  (see  fig.  75,  (0)). 


Sn>HON0SPDA<] 


MOLLUSCA 


667 


The  for©-part  of  the  foot  which  snrrotmds  the  month,  as 
in  all  Cephalopoda,  is  drawn  out  into  four  or  five  pairs  of 
lobes,  eometimes  shorty  but  osually  elongated  and  even  fili- 


Fig.  84 
Pio'.  M.— terra  of  Patuttodermon  (from 
E-oral  ciliated  band  of  the  trochosphe] 


Fig. 
Balfonr,  after  GegenbenrX 


the  mdimente  of  a  pair  of  processes  growing  from  the  head.  In  Bttc  fore- 
moet  ciliated  ring  has  disappeared  ;  the  cephalic  region  is  greatly  developed, 
&nd,  as  comparedwlth  the  adult  (fig.  85X  is  large  and  free  ;  the  pair  of  hook- 
bearing  processes  on  each  side  of  tie  mouth  .ire  retractile,  probably  part  of 
the  fore-foot  At  the  base  of  the  cephalic  suont  are  seen  the  pair  of  arm- 
like processes  (fore-foot)  provided  with  6nck':rs,  and  behind  these  the  broad 
pteropodial  lobes  or  wing-like  fins  of  the  raid-foot 
Pio.  85. — PTieumodtrmon  violaceum,  d'Orb, ;  magnified  five  diameters,  a,  the 
sncber-bearing  anna ;  6,  the  flns  of  the  mid-foot  (in  the  middle  line,  between 
theee,  la  seen  the  sucker-like  median  portion  of  the  foot,  by  nif-aus  of  which 
the  animal  can  ctawl  as  a  Gastropod) ;  c,  tBe  foor  branchial  processes.  (After 
Kefei^ln.) 

form.     These  lobes  either  carry  peculiar  sheathed  tentacles 

(Nautilus),  or,  on  the  other  hand,  acetabulif  orm  suckers,  which 

may  be  associated  with   claw-like  •  hooks  (Dibranchiata). 

The  hind-foot  is  probably  represented  by  the  valve  which 

depends  from  the  inner 

w^   of    the   siphon   in 

many  cases.  ^—■''~~~*^4Si     I- 

A  sheU  (figs.  89,  100)  .'^-— s^-«  . 

ia  very  generally  present, 
afiFording  protection  to 
the  visceral  mass  and 
attachment  for  muscles. 
It  may  be  external  or  en- 
closed in  dorsal  UpgrOW-  Fio.  86,— Oion*  !>or.-a!ij,  L. ;  magnified  two 

lag  folds  of  the  mantle,       """ "~ 
which  (except  in  Spirula) 

■  L         ■         1  .J  uiciuuo  uiiiiui-o  8u[;Kt;r-UKe  processes,  a 

Close  up  at  an  early  penOa  snrrounded    by  a  hood-like  upgrowth. 

of   development,  so   as  to  '","'  '■„?''*  more  elongated  tentacles  (the 

i/»   uoTo.uyujouv,  =>..    ,.  retractile  cye-tentaolcs  are  not  seen,  being 

form  a  shut  sac  m  which  <  phiced  dorsaUy);  c,  the  pteropodial  llns; 

»).o  cTipIH..  Ofx-rpi  sH      T>iB  ■*■  *'  median  portion  of  the  foot ;  o.  the 

tne  snell  13  secret  ea.     ine  anus  ;  y,  the  vagina ;  j,  the  penl^     (From 

ctenidia  are   well   deve-    Owen,  a-icr  Escimcht) 
loped  as  paired  gill-plumes,  serving  as  the  efSoient  bran- 
dual  organs  (figs.  101,  103, 
and  fig.  2,  B). 

The  vasciilar  system  ia 
Tery  highly  developed ;  the 
heart  consists  of  a  pair  of 
auricles  and  a  ventricle  (figs. 
104,  105).  Branchial  hearts 
are  formed  on  the  advehent 
vessels  of  the  branchiaj.  It 
is  not  known  to  what  extent 
the  minute  subdivision  of 
the  arteries  extends,  or 
whether  there  is  a  true 
capillary  system. 

The     pericardium     is     ex-     6el.,»fer  Sonleyet).     Cei!,'nghtcerc- 

■    ,    "^  .      ,  bnil    gangbon;   Pl.R,    right    pleural 

tended  so  as   to  lOrm  a  very     ganglion ;  Pt,  right  pedal  ganglion ; 

large    sac    passing    among    [^';^^^r,^'^^i^-4^''^'^'^%t 

the  viscera  dorsal  wards  and     tro-pedal  connective ;  cpU  right  cere- 

.. ^„„x«.:„*    „     *i.„      bro-pleural  connective:  Osp.,  osphra- 

eometimea      containing     the      dinm  connected  by  a  nerve  V/itfi  the 

ovary  or  testis — the  viscero*    ^e^^  visceral  gaogUoa 
pericardial  sac — which  opens  to  the  exterior  either  directly 


or  through  the  nephridia.  It  has  no  connexion  with  the 
vascular  system.  The  nephridia  are  always  jpaired  sacs, 
the  walls  of  which  invest  the  branchial  advehent  vessel* 
(figs.  104, 108).    They  open  each  by  a  pore  into  the  viscero- 


FiQ.  S8.— Male  (nppcr)  and  female  nower)  flpecJmens  of  Nautiha  jxmptilus  ss 
aeen  in  the  expanded  condition,  tbe  obsen'er  looking  down  on  to  the  bDccal 
cone  e ;  one-third  the  natural  size  linear.  The  drawings  have  been  made 
from  actual  specimens  by  A.  G.  Bourne,  B.Sc,  and  serve  to  ahow  the 
natural  dispo:'itlon  of  the  t^ntaculiferoua  lobes  and  tentacles  of  the  circiun- 
oral  portion  of  tlie  foot  (n  the  living  state,  as  well  as  the  great  differences 
between  the  two  sexes,  a,  the  shell ;  6,  the  outer  ring-like  expansion  (annular 
lobe)  of  the  circnm-oral  muacular  mass  of  the  fore-foot,  canTing  nintteeB 
tentacles  on  each  side — posteriorly  this  ia  enlarged  to  form  the  "hood" 
(marked  v  in  flg.  89  and  m.  in  figs.  90  and  01),  giving  off  the  pair  of  tentaclef 
marked  g  in  the  present  figure  ;  c,  the  right  and  left  inner  lobes  of  the  fore* 
foot,  each  carrying  twelve  tentacles  In  ihe  female,  in  the  male  enbdivided 
intoji,  the  "spadix"  or  hectocotylna  on  the  left  side,  and  g,  the  "  anti-spadix," 
a  group  of  four  tentacles  on  the  right  side,— it  is  thus  seen  that  the  subdivided 
right  and  left  Inner  lobes  of  the  male  correspond  to  the  undivided  right  and 
left  inner  lobes  of  the  female  ;  d,  the  inner  inferior  lobe  of  the  fore-fc'jt,  a 
biiatei-al  structure  in  the  female  carrying  two  groups,  each  of  fourteen  tenta- 
cles, separated  from  one  another  by  a  lamellated  oi^a  ts  supposed  to  be 
olfactory  in  function— in  the  mole  the  inner  inferior  lobe  of  the  fore-fcct  ij 
very  much  reduced,  and  has  the  form  of  a  paired  group  of  lamellse  (d  in  the 
npper  figure);  e,  the  buccal  cone,  rising  from  the  centre  of  the  three  inner  looee, 
ana  fringing  tbe  protruded  calcareous  beaks  or  jaws  with  a  series  of  minute 
papillie ;  f,  the  tentacles  of  the  outer  clrcum-oral  l&be  or  ^Ttnilar  lobe  of  the 
fore-foot  projecting  from  their  sheaths ;  g,  the  two  most  posterior  tentacles 
of  this  series  belonging  to  that  part  of  the  annular  lobe  whidi  forms  the 
hood  (tji,  in  figs.  90  and  91);  i,  superior  ophthalmic  tentacle;  it,  inferior 
ophthalmic  tentacle  ;  I,  eye  ;  m^  paired  laminated  organ  on  feach  side  of  the 
base  of.  the  inner  inferior  lobe  (d)  of  the  female,  probably  olfactory  in  fiiDO- 
tion ;  n,  olfactory  lamellEB  npon  the  inner  inferior  lobe  (in  the  female) ;  o, 
the  siphon  (mid-foot) ;  p,  the  spadix  (in  the  male),  the  hectocot>-lized  portlan 
of  tho  left  inner  lobe  of  the  fore-foot  representing  four  modihed  tentacles, 
eight  being  left  nnmodifled ;  q,  the  anti-spadix  (in  the  male),  being  four  of 
the  twelve  tentacles  of  the  right  inner  lobe  of  the  fore-foot  isolated  from 
tho  remaining  eight,  and  representing  on  the  right  side  the  differentiated 
spadix  of  the  left  side.  The  four  tentacles  of  the  anti-spadix  are  set,  thrM 
on  one  base  and  one  on  a  separate  base. 

There  are  thus  in  the  female,  where  they  are  most  numerous,  nlnet>--four 
tentacles,  thirty-eight  on  the  outer  annular  lobe,  four  ophthaliiuc  (a  pair  to 
each  eye)i  twelve  on  each  of  the  right  and  left  inner  lob^  and  twenty-eight 
on  the  inner  Inferior  lobe. 

pericardial  sac  except  in  Nautilus.  The  anal  aperture  is 
median  and  raised  on  a  papilla.  Jaws  (fig.  88,  e)  and  a  lin- 
gual ribbon  (fig.  107)  are  well  developed.  The  jaws  have 
the  form  of  a  pair  of  powerful  beaks,  either  homy  or  calcified 
(Nautilus),  ^d  are  capable  of  inflicting  severe  wounds. 


668 


MOLLUSCS 


[SIPHONOPODA. 


Sense-organs^are  highly  "developed ;  the  eye  exhibits  a 
very  special  elaboration  of  structure  in  the  Dibranchiata, 
and  a  remarlcable  archaic  form  in  the  Nautilus.  Otocysts 
are  present  in  all.     The  typical  osphradium  is  not  present, 


!  Of  the  female  Pearly  Nautilus,  contraeted  ty  spirit  and  lying  in  its  shell, 
'""''  '■  "■■*  — ay  (frora_  Qegenbaur,  after  Owen),    a,  visceral  hnmp;  6,por- 


term  hectocotylization  is  applied  to  this  modification  (see 
figs.  88,  95,  96).  Elaborate  spermatophores  or  spemi-ropes 
are  -formed  by  all  Siphonopoda,  and  very  usually  the  female 
possesses  special  capsule-forming  and  nidamental  glands  for 
providing  envelopes  to  the  eggs  (fig.  101,  ff.n.). 
The  egg  of  aU  Siphonopoda  is  large,  and  the 
development  is  much  modified  by  the  presence 
of  an  excessive  amount  of  food-material  diflFused 
in  the  protoplasm  of  the  egg-cell.  Trochosphere 
and  veliger  stages  of  develooment  are  conse- 
quently not  recognizable. 

The  Siphonopoda  are  divisible  into  two 
orders,  the  names  of  which  (due  to  Owen)  de- 
scribe the  number  of  gill-plumes  present ;  but 
in  fact  there  are  several  characters  of  as  great 
importance  as  those  derived  from  the  gills  by 
which  the  members  of  these  two  orders  are 
separated  from  one  another. 
Order  1. — TetrabraacUiata  ( =  Schizosiphona, 
Teniae  uiifera). 
Characters.  —  Siphonopodous  CepnaiopodS 
in  which  the  inrolled  lateral  margins  of  tba 
mid-foot  are  not  fused,  but  form  a  ciphon  by 
apposition  (fig.  101).  The  circum-oral  lobes 
of  the  fore-foot  carry  numerous  sheathed  ten- 
tacles (not  suckers)  (fig.  88).  There  are  two 
pairs  of  ctenidial  gills  (hence  Tetrabraiichiata), 
and  two  pairs  of  nephridia,  consequently  four 
nephridial  apertures  (fig.  101).  The  viscero- 
pericardial  chamber  opens  by  two  independent 


Hro.  89.— literal  \ 

the  right  half  of  which  is  cut  l   _ 

aonofthefreeedgeofthemantlo-sWrtreflectedon  to  the  shell,— tlie  edge  of  the  mantic-akiri;  nnp'tlirp?    to    ttip  pxtprior  and  not  into    thp 

canbetraceddow-nwardaandforpaitisaroundthebaseottheiiid.footorsiphcml;  ^i.suMr.'^P   ,     .,     ,  ''°    """^  exi^nor  ana  noi  into    tne 

flcial  origin  of  the  retractor  muscle  of  the  midfoot  (siphon),  more  or  less  firmly  attached  to  the  nephfldial     sacs.         There  are  two  OVlductS 

shell,  of  which  a  small  piece  (a)  is  seen  between  the  letters  M  •  s  ^farther  back^  rtolnts  to  the  /   ■    t  ^         i    i   r,  \    •      xt.      ^  i  j   i 

siphuncuiarpedicie,whi?hisbrikenofrsbortl?dnotcon«ruyWifthepeS^^^^  ("gilt  ^^d  left)  m  the  female  and  two  sperm- 

tho  whole  length  of  the  siphmicle  of  the  shell,  also  marked  »  and  «■ ;  o  points  to  the  right  eye  ;  ductS    in     the     male,    the     left     duct    in    both 
<  is  placed  near  the  extremities  of  the  contracted  tentacles  of  the  outer  or  annuhir  lobe  of  the  ,     .  ,  •  1 

Tore-foot,— the  Jointed  tentacles  are  seen  protruding  a  little  from  their  long  cylindrical  sheaths ;  r,  SexeS  being  rudimentary. 

foo\t"fi  l^r^'J^t  tlT.,^irZ^i.^^^litZ^L:^l  Sr;?siJ,o^c"n  t!^SX.      ^  l"g«  «^t«'?al  ^^^^^  ^^'"^^^  eoUed  or  straight 

isce  of  the  nidamental  gland  (see  Og.  101,  g.ii.).  is  present,  and  IS  not  enclosed  by  reflexions  of 

except  in  Nautilus,  but  other- organs  are  present  m  tne     the  mantle-skirt,  except  such   narrow-mouthed  shells   as 

that  of  Gomphoceras,  which  wore  probably  enclosed  by  the 


Bonme).  wlj  the  dorsal  "hood  "  formed  by  the  enlargement  of  the  outer 
annular  lobe  of  the  fore-foot,  and  corresponding  to  the  sheaths  of  two  tenta- 
cles (ff,  17  in  flc.  88) ;  n.,  tentacular  sheaths  of  lateral  portion  of  the  annular 
lobe  ;  «.,  the  led  eye  ;  ft.,  the  nuchal  plat£,  continuous  at  its  right  and  left 
posterior  angles  with  the  root  of  the  mid-foot,  and  corresponding  to  the 
nuchal  cartilage  of  Sepia;  c,  visceral  hump;  d.,  the  free  ma'-rin  of  the 
mantle-skirt,  the  middle  letter  d.  points  to  that  portion  of  the  mantle-skirt 
which  is  reflected  over  a  part  of  tlie  shell  as  seen  in  fig.  89,  6  ;  the  cup-like 
fossa  to  which  6.  and  d.  point  in  the  present  figure  is  occupied  by  the  coil  of 
the  shell ;  i;.a.  points  to  the  lat'^ral  continuation  of  the  nuchal  plate  b.  to 
Join  the  root  of  the  mid-foot  or  siphon. 

cephalic  region,  to  which  an  olfactory  function  is  ascribed 
both  in  Nautilus  and  in  the  other  Siphonopoda. 

The  gonads  are  alvv-ays  separated  in  male  and  female 
individuals.  The  genital  aperture  and  duct  is  sometimes 
single,  when  it  is  the  left ;  sometimes  the  typical  pair  is 
developed  right  and  left  of  the  anus.  The  males  of  nearly 
all  Siphonojioda  harve  been  shown  to  bo  characterized  by  a 
peculiar  modification  of  the  arm-like  processes  or  lobes  of 
the  fore-foot,  connected  with  the  copulative  function.     The 


Flo.  91.— Lateral  view  of  the  same  specimen  as  that  drawn  in  fig.  Oa  Lett«l» 
as  in  that  figure  with  the  following  additions— f  points  to  the  concave  m:  i-gln 
of  the  mantle-skirt  leading  into  the  sub-palllal  chamber ;  g,  the  mid-io  a  or 
siphon  ;  k,  the  superficial  origin  of  itji  retractor  muscles  closely  applie  l  to 
Uie  shell  and  serving  to  hold  the  animal  in  its  place ;  I,  the  siphnncular  pedicle 
of  the  visceral  hump  broken  off  short ;  v,  v,  the  superior  and  inferior  ophthal- 
mic tentacles. 

mantle  as  in  the  Dibranch  Spirula.  The  snell  consists  of 
a  series  of  chambers,  the  last  formed  of  which  is  occupied 
by  the  body  of  the  anin%^l,  the  hinder  ones  (successively 
deserted)  containing  gas  (fig.  89). 

The  pair  of  cephalic  eyes  are  hollow  chambers  (fig.  118, 
A)  opening  to  the  exterior  by  minute  orifices  (pinhole 
camera),  and  devoid  of  refractive  structures.  A  pair  of 
osphradiaare  present  at  the  base  of  the  gills  (fig.  101,  o//). 
Salivary  glands  are  wanting.  An  ink-sac  is  not  present. 
Branchial  hearts  are  not  developed  on  the  branchial  advo- 
hent  vessels. 


8IPH0:<0P0DA.] 


MOLLUSCA 


66S 


Flmily  1. — yaiUilufsB. 
Genera:  [Orl/uxcras],  Breyn.;  [Cijiiceerus],  Goldfuss;  [Omnji/io- 

aim],  Uiisster  ;  (Phratpjioaras^  Brod.  ;  [Gijroceraa],  ilojer 

[Aseoce)as\  Barraude  ;  [Oncocer(is\   Hall;  {Liluites\  Breyn. 

\Troch<xeras\   Barraude;  KautUus,  L.  (figs.  88,  89,  90,  &«.) 

[Clymenia],  Miinst.  ;  {Xothoeeraa],  Bahaude. 
Family  2. — Ai'imoniivias. 
Genera :  [SnctriUa],  Sanderg. ;  [OoniaiUca],  d?  Haan  ;  [Rhaido- 

ceras],    Hauer ;    [Clydouites],    Hauer ;    [CocAloccras],    Haaer 

[Baculina],  d'Orb. ;  [CeraliUs],  de  Haan  ;  [Baculita],   Lam. 

[Toxoaras],d'Orh.;  [Crioceras],  heyeilli  ;  [Pli/chocera3],i'Oib. 

[ffamiUs],    Parkinson  ;     [Anajloceras],    d'Orb. ;    [Seaphila], 

Parkinson  ;  [Ammonita],  Brevn. ;  [Turrilitfs],  Lam.  ;  [Bclia- 

cfTOj],  d'Orb. ;  [Ilttcroceras],  d'Orb. 

If.B. — The  names  in  brackets  ale  those  of  extinct  genera. 

Order  2. — Sibranchiata  ( =  Holosiphona,  Acetabulifera). 
CharacUrs. — Siplionopodou3  Cephalopoda  in  which  the 
inflected  lateral  margins  of  the  mid-foot  are  fused  so  as  to 
form  a  complete  tubular  siphon  (fig.  96,  t).  The  circum- 
oral  lobes  of  thf  fore-foot  carry  suckers  disposed  upon  them 
in  rows  (as  in  the  Pteropod  Pneumodermon),  not  tentacles 
(see  figs.  92,  95,  96).  There  is  a  single  pair  of  typical 
xrtenidia  (fig.  103)  acting  as  gilb  (hence  Dibranchiata),  and 


1  when  dead,  tne  lev 


Fio.  Qi.—Stpia  oJJlclihUlf,  «,,  half  the  natural  sit*,  «..  o^  „  ..  ii^..  u=bm,  »uo  luu^ 
preheDiUe  arms  being  witbdrart-n  from  the  pouches  at  the  aide  of  the  head, 
finally  in  use.     ti,  Deck; 


;ed  during  life  when  not  i 
\  lateral  fin  of  the  mautlc-sac  ;  c,  the  eight  shorter  a 
the  two  long  prehensile  arms  ;  e,  the  eyes. 


1  of  the  fore-foot ;  d, 


a  single  pair  of  nephridia  opening  by  apertures  right  and 
left  of  the  median  anus  (fig.  103,  r),  and  by  similar  internal 
pores  into  the  pericardial  chamber,  which  consequently  does 
not  open  directly  to  the  surface  as  in  Nautilus.  The  ovi- 
ducts are  sometimes  paired  right  and  left  (Octopoda), 
sometimes  that  of  one  side  only  is  developed  (Decapoda, 
except  Ommastrephes).  The  sperm-duct  is  always  single 
except,  according  to  Keferstein,  in  Eledone  moschata. 

A  plate-like  shell  is  developed  in  a  closed  sac  formed  by 
the  mantle  (figs.  98,  99),  except  in  the  Octopoda,  which  have 
none,  and  in  Spirula  (fig.  100,  D)  and  the  extinct  Belemni- 
tidsB,  which  have  a  smaill  chambered  shell  resembling  that 


of  Nautilus  with  or  without  the  ^diiicu  of  plate-lik^  and 
cylindrical  accessory  developments  (fig.  100,  C). 

The  pair  of  cephalic  eyes  are  highJy-develoi,ed  vesicles 
with  a  refractive  lens  (fig.  120),  cornea,  and  lid-fclds, — thf 
vesicle  being  in  the  embryo  an  open  sac  Uke  that  of  Nautilut. 
(fig.  119).  Osphradia  are  not  preset  t,  but  cephalic  olfac 
tory  organs  are  recognized.  One  or  two  pairs  of  large 
salivary  glands  with  long  ducts  are  present.  An  ink-sac 
formed  as  a  diverticulum  of  the  rectum  and  opening  neai 
the  anus  is  present  in  all  Dibranchiata  (fig.  103,  t),  and  ha.< 
been  detected  even  in  the  fossil  Belemmtidse.  Branchia 
hearts  are  developed  on  the  two  branchial  advehent  blood 
vessels  (fig.  104,  tx,  vi). 

The  Dibranchiata  are  divisible  into  two  sulMirders,  accord 
ing  to  the  number  and  charact;r  of  the  arm-like  sucker 
beating  processes  of  the  fore-foot. 


Pio.  03.— DecApodons  Slphonopods ;  one-fonrtli  the  ttatatal  BiM  linear.    A 

LlitiroteiiOiii  Vci-anyi,  d'Orb.  (Crom  the  Mediterranean),     B.  Tttytaiiotniki^ 

rhombus,  Troschel  (Crom  Measina).      C.   LollgoptU  cyaunj.  Fix.  and  d''Orb 

(from  Oio  AOanUc  Ocean). 

Sub-order  1. — I>ecapoda. 

Character}. — Dibranchiata  with  the  fore-foot  drawn  out  int' 
eight  shorter  and  two  longer  arms  (prehensile  arms),  the  latter  bein^ 
placed  right  and  left  between  the  third  and  fourth  shorter  arms 
The  suckers  are  stalked,  and  strengthened  by  a  horny  ring.  Th- 
eyes  are  large  and  have  a  hoi-izontal  in  place  of  a  sphincter-Tike  lid 
The  body  is  elongated  and  provided  with  lateral  fins  (lamellifom- 
expansions  of  the  mantle).  The  mouth  has  a  buccal  membrane 
The  mantle-margin  is  locked  to  the  base  of  the  siphon  by  a  specially 
developed  cartilaginous  apparatus.  Kumerous  water-pores  are  pre 
sent  in  the  head  and  anterior  region  of  the  body,  leading  into  re 
cesses  of  the  integument  of  unknown  significance.  The  oviduct  i- 
single  ;  large  nidamental  glands  are  present  The  viscero-pericar 
dial  space  is  large,  and  lodges  the  ovary  (Sepia).  There  is  alway- 
a  shell  present  which  is  enclosed  by  the  upgrowth  of  the  m&ntle. 
so  as  to  oecome  "intemah" 

Section  a. — Decapoda  Calciyhora. 

Chanuicr. — Internal  shell  calcareous. 
Family  1. — SpiruUdm. 

Genus  :  Spirula,  Lam.  (fig.  100,  D). 
Family  2. — BcUjnnitidm. 

Genera :  [Spirulirotlra],  d'Orb.  (fig.  100,  C) ;  [Belopterj],  DtaL  , 
[BcUmno^sl  Edw. ;  [ConoUvtltu],  d'Orb.  (fig.  100,  A) ;  [Acan 
tlwtaUhis],  &.  Wag. ;  [Bclemniica]^  Lister,  1678;  [BeletanOellal 
d'Orb.;  [XiphoUvthis),  Huxley. 
Family  3. — Sepiadec. 

Genera:  Sepia,  L.  (figs.  92,  98,  tt);  [Bcloxpia],  Yolt»;  Coew- 
Uuthis,  Owea 


670 


M  O  L  L  U  S 


Section  I. — Deeapoda  Cliondrophora. 
CharaeUr. — Internal  shell  homy. 

Sub-section  o.  —Myopndx  (d'Orb. ). 
Eye  with  clawed  cornea,  so  that  the  surronndiiig  water  does  no 
touch  the  lens ;  mostly  frequenters  of  the  coast 
Family  1. — Loligidm. 
Genera:  Loligo,  Schneid.  (figs.   99,  &c.);  LoKolus,  oceenstrnp  ; 
SepioteiUhis,  Blv.  ;  [TeuUwpsisl  Desl. ;  [LeptoUuthisl  Meyer; 
[Belemnosepia],  Ag.  ;  [Beloteuthis],  Miinst 
Family  2. — Scpiolidm. 
Genera :  Sepiola,  Schneid.  ;  Ro3sia,  Owen. 

Sub-section  p.—Oigopsidm  (d'Orb.). 
Eye  with  open  cornea,  so  that  the  surrounding  water  bathes  the 
anterior  surface  of  the  lens  ;  mostly  pelagic  aainmls. 
Family  Z.—Cranchiadm. 

Gtnus :  Oranchia,  Leach  (fig.  94,  C). 
Family  4. — Loligopaids. 

Genus :  Loligopsis,  Lam.  (fig.  98,  C). 
Family  5. — CheiroteutkidaB. 

Genera :  Clmiroteuthis,  d'Orb.  (fig.  93,  A) ;  Bistioteuthis,  d'Orb. 
Family  6. — ThyaanotciUhidss. 

Genus :  Thyscmoteuthis,  Troschel  (fig.  93,  B). 
Family  7. — OnycTioieuthidBS. 

■nera  :  Gonatiis,  Gray  ;  Onychotmthis,  Lichtenst  (fig.  97) ;  Ony- 
chia, Lesueur ;  Bnoploteuthis,  d'Orb. ,  Veranya,  Kjohn  ;  [Plesio- 
tailhis],  A.  Wag.  ;  [Celes7u>\  Miinst  :  riotidiais,  Steenstrup  ; 
Ommastrcphes,  d'Orb. 

Sub-order  2. — OdOfioda. 

CliaTocters. — Dibranchiata  with  the  fore-foot  drawn  out  into  eight 

arms  only;  suckers  sesaile,  devoid  of  homy  ring;  eyes  small,  the 


Fio.  04.— Octopodoua  Siphonopods  ;  one.fonrtli  tlie  natural  size  linfar.  A. 
Pinnixtojms  cordtMmis,  Quuy  and  Gala  (from  New  Zealand).  B.  Tremoc- 
hprn  violacm,  Ver.  (from  the  Medltermnoan).  C.  OranAia  scabra  Owen 
(from  the  Atlantic  Ocean  j  one  of  the  DecaiKxla).  D.  ClrrhotntthU  MMUH, 
E5ch.  (from  the  Greenland  coaat). 

outer  skin  can  be  closed  over  them  by  a  sphincter-like  movement 
The  body  is  short  and  rounded  ;  the  mantle  has  no  cartilaginous 
locking  apparatus,  and  is  always  fused  to  the  head  dorsally  by  a 
broaJ  nuchal  band.  No  buccal  membrane  surrounds  the  mouth. 
The  siphon  is  devoid  of  valves.  The  oviducts  are  paired  ;  there  are 
no  nidamental  glanda  The  viscero-pcrieardial  apace  is  reduced  to 
two  narrow  canals,  passing  from  the  iiophridia  to  the  capsule  of  tl'e 
genital  gland.  There  ia  no  shcll.on  or  in  the  visceral  Iiump. 
Family  l.  —  Cirrhottuthidm. 

Genus:  CirrhoUulhiii,  Each.  [Sciadtphorus,  Roinh.)  (fig.  94,  D> 
Family  2. — Ociopodida. 

Genera  ;  Pinnoctopiu,  d'Orb.  (fig.  94,  A) ;  Octopus,  Lam.  (fig.  95) ; 
ScaeuTgxis,  Trosch. ;  Elaione,  Leach ;  Bolitmna,  Steenstrup. 


J      .A.  •     [c3rilA10r01)A. 

Family  Z.  --~'\Jfmczid^. 
Genon  :   T , .nwclopua,  Delle  Chiaje  (Philonexii,  d'Orb.)  (fig.  94, 

B) ;  .'-r  'ra,  Stoi.?JEtrup  (Odopus  catenulatta,  Fer.,  is  the 
femrilf .  -.  u  Octopus  carciui,  Ver,  ia  the  male  of  the  one  species 
of  tl "  IU3  according  to  Steenstrup  (fig.  96}) ;  Arg(maiUa,  L 
(the  : '.  i'  of  this  genus  ia  formed  only  in  the  female  by  the 
(rpanJi:  i  enda  of  the  two  largo  "  arms  "  of  the  fore-foot). 


PiQ.  05.— A.  r-rilc  specSmon  of  Octopus  ffrcmlandtc^tt,  with  the  thW  arm  of  th» 
right  side  hcctocotylUed.  B.  The  extremity  of  the  hectocotjlUed  arm 
magnlHed. 

Fvrther  Remarks  on  the  Cephalopoda. — In  order  to  give 
a  more  precise  conception  of  the  organization  of  the  Cephalo- 
poda, in  a  concrete  form  we  select  the  Pearly  Nautilus  for 
further  description,  and  in  pass- 
ing its  structure  in  review  we 
shall  take  the  opportunity  of 
comparing  here  and  there  the 
peculiarities  presented  by  that 
animal  with  those  obtaining  in 
allied  forms.  In  the  last  edition 
of  this  work  the  Pearly  Nautilus 
was  made  the  subject  of  a  dr- 
tailed  exposition  by  Professor 
Owen,  and  it  has  seamed  accord- 
ingly appropriate  that  it  should 
be  somewhat  fully  treated  on 
the  present  occasion  also.  The 
figures  which  illustrate  the  pre- 
sent description  are  (excepting 
fig.  89)  original,  and  prepared 
from  dissections  (made  under  the 
direction  of  the  writer)  of  a  male 
and  female  Katililvs  pompilivs, 
lately  purchased  for  the  Musouni 
of  University  College,  Loudon. 

Visceral  ITKmp  end  Shell. — 
The  visceral  hump  of  Nautilus 
(if  we  exclude  from  considera-  _ 

tion  the  fine  sijihuncnlar  pedicle  fio.  S6.— Male  of  farojim  cv>rM- 
which  it  trails,  as  it  v,-ere,  behind  v\'?:,\'^^n™?hfh"«t"otyU?3 
it)  is  very  little,  if  at  all,  affected    arm.  n,  e.  P,  n,  the  Urst,  lecond, 

,  '  ,,  ■.    1    i  t    lu        1,   11      third,  and  fourth  aims  or  pro- 

by  the    coiled    form  of    the  shell      cesses  of  thj   forefoot ;  A,   the 

which  it  carries,  since  the  animal  ^J^^ST:"'.  ufe "^5^?'^  oT^i 
always  slips  forward  in  the  shell  hcctocotv'uied  arm ;  v,  the  fiu- 
as  it  gi-ows,  and  inhabits  a  cham-  ^^^  t'eiopmen't  S""ompi«5  • 
ber  which  is  practically  cylindri-  i,  the  siphon.  (From  Qceeni«ur.) 
cal  (fig.  89).  Were  the  deserted  chambers  thrown  off  instead 
of  being  accumulated  behind  the  inhabited  chaml:)er  as  a 
coiled  series  of  air-chambers,  we  should  have  a  more  correct 
indication  io  the  shell  of  the  extent  and  form  of  the  animal'* 


CXPHALOFODJu] 


MOLLCJSCA. 


671 


body.  Amongst  Qastropod-i  it  is  not  very  unusual  to  find 
tho  animal  slipping  forward  in  its  shell  as  growth  advances 
and  leaving  an  unoccupied  chamber  in  the  apex  of  the  shell. 
ThiSTnay  indeed  become  shut  off  from  the  occupied  cavity 
by  a  transverse  septum,  and  a  scries  of  such  septa  may  be 
formed  (fig.  42),  but  in  no  Gastropod  ore  thcie  apical 
chambers  known  to  contain  a 
gas  during  the  life  of  the 
animal  in  whose  shell  they 
occur.     A  further  peculiarity  fi 

of  the  Nautilus  shell  and  of 
that  of  the  allied  extinct  Am- 
monites, Scaphites,  Orthoceras, 
(Sx.,  and  of  the  living  Spirula, 
is  that  the  series  of  deserted 
air-chambers  are  traversed  by 
a  cord -like  pedicle  extending 
from  the  centro-dorsal  area  of 
the  visceral  hump  to  the  small- 
est and  first-formed  chamber  of 
the  series.  No  structure  com- 
parable to  this  siphunctilar 
pedicle  is  known  in  any  other 
Mollusca.  Its  closest  repre- 
sentative is  found  in  the  so- 
called  "contractile  cord"  of 
the  remarkable  form  Rhabdo- 
pleui-a,  referred  according  to 
present  knowledge  to  the  Poly- 
zoa.  There  appears  to  be  no 
doubt  that  the  deserted  cham- 
bers of  the  Nautilus  shell  con- 
tain in  the  healthy  living 
animal  a  gas  which  serves  to 
lessen  the  specific  gravity  of 
the  whole  organism.  The  gas 
is  said  to  be  of  the  same  com- 
position as  the  atmosphere, 
with  a  larger  proportion  of 
nitrogen.  With  regard  to  its 
origin  we  have  only  conjec- 
tures. Each  septum  shutting  jj^ 
off  an  air-containing  chamber 
is  formed  during  a  period  of 
quiescence,  probably  after  the 
reproductive  act,  when  the  vis-  j 
ceral  mass  of  the  Nautilus  may 
be  slightly  shrank,  and  gas  is 
secreted  from  the  dorsal  inte-  '■ 

gument   so  an  to  fill   up  the 
space  previously  occupied  by 

»i.„    „„; 1  *     *„•       „i Fw.  87 — Head  and  cIrcaTnK>l-al  pro- 

the  animaL      A  certam  stage    cc»sea  of  the  fore-foot  of  Onycho- 

is    reached    in    the    growth    of      teuthls  (from  Owen^    a.  neck ;  b, 

^^       _. , 1     _  _      _  I,    eye :  c.  tlic  eight  short  RHUS :  rf,  long 

"  prehcrwile  arms,  the  clavato  extre- 


the  animal  when  no  new  cham- 


prOCeSS  of  the  loosening  of   the      of  hooka  beyond  at/.    The  tempo- 

•        1    ■       -i        1.        1  J      c      rary  conjunction  of  tho  amis    by 

aruinal   m   its   chamber   and  Ot      meana  of  the  suckers  enables  them 

its  slipping  forward  when  a  » act  i"  i:<""Wn;ti™ 
new  septum  is  formed,  as  well  as  the  mode  in  ■ivhich  the 
air-chambers  may  be  used  as  a  hydrostatic  apparatus,  and 
tlie  relation  to  this  use,  if  any,  cf  the  siphuncular  pedicle, 
if  involved  in  obscurity,  and  is  tho  subjf.ct  of  much  in- 
genious speculation.  In  connexion  with  the  secretion  of 
gas  by  the  animal,  besides  the  parallel  cases  ranging  from 
the  Proteroon  Arcella  to  the  Physoclistic  Fishes,  from 
the  Hydroid  Siphonophora  to  the  insect-larva  Corethra, 
wo  have  the  identical  phenomenon  observed  in  the  closely- 
allied  Sepia  when  recently  hatched.  Here,  in  the  pores 
of  the  internal  rudimentary  shell,  gas  is  observable,  which 
has  necessarily  been  liberated  by  the  tissues  which  secrete 


the   shell,    and  not  derived    from   any   external    source 
(Huxley). 

The  coiled  shell  of  Nautilus,  and  by  analogy  that  of  the 
Ammonites,  is  peculiar  in  its  relation  to  the  body  of  tho 
animal,  inasmuch  as  ftie  curvature  of  the  coil  proceeding 


Fig.  98.  Fig.  90. 

Fio.  08 The  calcareons  Internal  shell  cf  Scpin  nffiiinalh.  the  so.called  cuftlc- 

bone.    Oj  lateral  expansion  ;   t,  anterior  canceUntod  region ;  c,   Lauiiuated 

region,  the  laroinpe  enclosing  air. 
Pio.  99.— The  homy  internal  shell  or  gladlus  or  pen  of  Loligo. 

from  the  centro-dorsal  area  is  towards  the  head  or  forward, 
instead  of  away  from  the  head  and  backwards  as  in  other 
discoid  coiled  shells  such  as  Planorbis ;  the  coil  is  in  fact 
absolutely  reversed  in  the  two  cases.  Amongst  the  extinct 
allies  of  the  Nauti- 
lus (Tetrabranch- 
iata)  we  find  shells 
of  a  variety  of 
shapes,  open  coils 
such  as  Scaphites, 
leading  on  to  per- 
fectly cylindrical 
shells  with  chamber 
succeeding  cham- 
ber in  a  straight 
line  (Orthoceras), 
whence  again  wo 
may  pass  to  the 
cork-screw  spiree 
formed  by  the  shell 

of  Tiirrilftpq  Fio-  »00 — Internal  shells  of  Cephalopoda  Stpnono- 

™  .,        ,      r^  P«la-     •^-  Shell  of  Cotulmlhh  diiplnia«a.  d'Ol-U 

Whilst  the  Tetra-      (from   the   Kcocomian  of  France).      B-   ShcU  of 

branchiata,  so  far  as 
we  can  recognize 
their  remains,  are 
characterized  by 
these  large  chambered  shells,  which,  as  in  Nautilus,  were 
with  the  exception  of  some  narrow-mouthed  forms  such 
as  Gomphoceras  but  very  partially  covered  by  reflexions 
of  the  mantle-skirt  (fig.  89,  b),  the  Dibranoliiata  present 
an  interesting  series  of  gradations,  in  which  we  trace  — 
(a)  the  diminution  in  relative  size  of  the  chambered 
shell ;  (i)  its  complete  investiture  by  reflected  folds  of 
the  mantle  (Spirula,  fig.  100,  D) ;   (c)  the  concrescence 


of  Fran 

■Jlediterranean).  C.  Shell 
of  Spinilinsira  BflhnlU,  d'Orb.  (ti-om  the  Mio- 
cene of  Turin).  The  specunen  is  cot  so  as  to  show 
in  section  the  chambeicd  sliell  and  the  laminated 
"  guard  "  deposited  upon  its  surface-  D.  Shell  of 
Spirilla  Itct-is,  Graj'  (Kew  Zealand). 


672 


MOLLUSCA 


[CEPHALOI-ODA. 


of  the  folds  of  the  mantle  to  form  a  definitely -closed 
shell-sac ;  (</)  the  secretion  by  these  mantle-folds  or  walls 
of  the  shell -sac  of  additional  laminae  of  calcareous  shell- 
aubstance,  which  invest  the  original  shell  and  completely 
alter  its  appearance  (Spirulirostra,  fig.  100,  C;  Belemnites); 
(e)  the  gi-adual  dwindling  and  total  disappearance  of  the 
original  chambered  shell,  and  survival  alone  of  the  calcare- 
ous laminae  deposited  by  the  inner  walls  of  the  sac  (Sepia, 
fig.  100,  B) ;  (/)  the  disappearance  of  all  calcareoas  sub- 
stance from  the  pen  or  plate  which  now  represents  the 
contents  of  the  shell-sac,  and  its  persistence  as  a  horny 
body  simply  (Loligo,  fig.  99);  (g)  the  total  disappearance 
of  the  shell-sac  itself,  and  consequently  of  its  pen  or  plate, 
nevertheless  the  rudiments  of  the  shell-sac  appearing  in 
the  embryo  and  then  evanescing  (Octopus).  The  early 
appearance  of  the  sac  of  the  mantle  in  which  the  shell  is 
enclosed,  in  Dibranchiata,  has  led  to  an  erroneous  identifi- 
cation of  this  sac  with  the  prmiitive  shell-sac  of  the  archi- 
MoUusc  (fig.  1),  of  Chiton  (fig.  10,  A),  of  Arion  (fig.  69, 
D,  a),  and  of  the  normally-developing  Molluscan  embryo 
(figs.  68  and  72***,  sh).  The  first  appearance  of  the  shell- 
sac  of  Dibranchiata  is  seen  in  figs.  121  and  122,  its  forma- 
tion as  an  open  upgrowth  of  the  centro-dorsal  area  of  the 
embryo  having  been  demonstrated  by  Lankester  (34)  in 
1873,  who  subsequently  showed  (35)  that  the  same  sheU-sac 
appears  and  disappears  without  closing  up  in  Argonauta 
and  Octopus,  and  pointed  out  the  distinctness  of  this  sac 
and  the  primitive  shell-gland.  The  shell  of  the  female 
Argonauta  is  not  formed  by  the  visceral  hump,  but  by  the 
enlarged  arms  of  the  foot,  which  are  in  life  always  closely 
applied  to  it. 

The  shell  of  such  Pteropoda  as  have  shells  (the  Theceso- 
mata)  is  excessively  light,  and  fits  close  to  the  animal,  -no 
air-chambers  being  formed.  '  It  is  important  to  note  that 
in  this  division  of  the  Cephalopoda  there  is  the  same  tend- 
ency, which  is  carried  so  far  in  the  Dibranchiate  Siphono- 
pods,  for  the  mantle-skirt  to  be  reflected  over  and  closely 
applied  to  the  shell  (e.r;.,  Cavolinia,  figs.  79  and  80).  But 
in  Pteropoda  there  is  no  complete  formation  of  a  closed 
sac  by  the  reflected  mantle,  no  thickening  of  the  enclosed 
shell,  no  dwindling  of  the  original  shell  and  substitution 
for  it  of  a  laminated  plate.  The  variety  of  form  of 
the  glassiike  shells  of  Pteropoda  is  a  peculiarity  of  that 
group. 

Head,  Foot~ Mantle-skirt,  and-Sub^ailial  Chamber. — In 
the  Pearly  Nautilus  the  ovoid  visceral  hump  is  completely 
encircled  by  the  free  flap  of  iotegument  known  as  mantle- 
skirt  (fig.  91,  «^,  e).  In  the  antero-dorsal  region  this  flap 
is  enlarged  so  as  to  be  reflected  a  little  over  the  coil  of  the 
shell  which  rests  on  it.  In  the  postero-ventral  region  the 
flap  is  deepest,  forming  an  extensive  sub-paUial  chamber, 
at  the  entrance  of  which  e  is  placed  in  fig.  91.  A  view  of 
the  interior  of  the  sub-palliad  chamber,  as  seen  when  the 
mantle-skirt  is  retroverted  and  the  observer  faces  in  the 
direction  indicated  by  the  reference  line  passing  from  e  in 
fig.  91,  is  given  in  fig.  101.  With  this  should  be  com- 
pared the  similar  view  of  the  snb-pallial  chamber  of  the 
Dibranchiate  Sepia  (fig.  103).  It  shoidd  be  noted  as  a 
diS'erence  between  Nautilus  and  the  Dibranchiates  that  in 
the  former  the  nidamental  gland  (in  the  female)  lies  on 
that  surface  of  the  pallial  chamber  formed  by  the  dependent 
mantle-flap  (figs.  101,  ff.n. ;  89,  'n>  whil.st  in  the  latter  it  lies 
on  the  surface  formed  by  the  body-wall ;  in  fact  in  the 
foimer  the  base  of  the  fold  forming  the  mantle-skirt  com- 
prises in  its  area  a  part  of  what  is  unreflected  visceral 
hiirap  in  the  latter. 

The  apertures  of  the  two  pair.s  of  ncpbridia,  of  the  vis- 
cero-pericardial  sac,'  of  the  genital  dnct.s,  and  of  the  anus 
;vre  sho^vn  in  position  on  the  body-wall  of  the  jiaUial  cham- 
ber of  Nautilus  in  fig.-*.  101,  102,     There  are  nine  apertures 


m  all,  one  median  (the  anus),  and  four  paired.  Besides 
these  apertures  we  notice  ttm  pairs  of  gill-plumes  which 
are  undoubtedly  typical  ctenidia,  and  a  short  papilla  (tha 


o     ?■"' 


Fio.  lOl.—View  of  the  postero-yentral  surface  of  a  female  Pearly  NantilnB,  tha 
mantle-Bkirt  (c)  being  completely  reflcct-ed  so  as  to  show  the  innejr  wall  of 
the  sub-palllal  chamber  (drawn  from  nature  by  A.  G.  Bourne^  a,  muscu- 
lar band  passing  from  the  mid-foot  to  the  integument ;  b,  the  ■valve  on  tho 
surface  of  the  funnel-like  mid-foot,  partially  concealed  by  the  inrolled  lateraJ 
margin  of  the  latter  ;  c,  the  maiitle-skirt  retroverted  ;  an,  the  median  anuj; 
X,  post-anaj  papilla  of  unknown  significance ;  g.n.,  nidamental  gland  ;  r.ov., 
aperture  of  ttie  right  oviduct ;  l.ov.,  aperture  of  the  rudimentary  left  oviduct 
(pyriform  sac  of  Owen);  neph.a.^  aperture  of  tie  left  anterior" nephrldlum; 
ncph.p,  aperture  of  the  left  posterior  nephridiura ;  cificjier.,  left  aperture  of 
the  viacero-peri cardial  sac ;  olf,  the  left  osphradium  placed  near  tlie  base  of 
the  anterior  gill-plume.    The  foiu'  gill-plumes  (ctenidia)  are  net  lettered. 

osphradium)  between  each  anterior  and  posterior  gill-plumf* 
(see  figs.  101,  102,  and  explanation).  As  compared  with 
this  in  a  Dibranchiate,  we  find  (fig.   103)  only  four  aper- 


Fio.  102.— Viflw  of  tlie  postero-ventral  surface  of  a  male  Pearly  Nautilus,  tiis 
miiiitlf>-skiit;(o)  being  completely  reflected  so  as  to  show  the  inner  wnll  of 
the  aubpallial  chamber,  and  the  four  ctenidia  and  the  foot  cut  short  (drawD 
from  iiJiture  by  A.  O.  Bourne),  pe.,  penia,  being  the  enlai^d  termination 
of  th«  light  spcrmutie  duct;  I.sit.,  aperture  of  the  mdlmentar>'  loft  apenuatic 
duct  (pyriform  sac  of  Oweny.    Other  letters  as  in  flg,  101. 

lures,  viz.,  the  median  anus  with  adjacent  orifice  of  the 
ink-sac,  the  single  pair  of  uephridial  apertures,  and  one 
asymmetrical  genital  aperture  (on  the  left  side),  except  in 
female  Octopoda  and  a  few  others  where  the  genital 
ducts  and  their  apertures  are  paired.  No  visccro-peri- 
cardial  pores  are  jiresent  on  the  surface  of  the  pallial 
chamber,  since  in  the  Dibranchiata  the  viscero-peri cardial 


OKFHAIOFODA.] 


MOLLUSCA 


673 


sac  opens  by  a  pore  iiAiO  each  nepluidiam  instead  of 
directly  to  the  surface.  A  single  pair  of  ctenidia  (giU- 
plnmes)  is  present  instead  of  the  two  pairs  in  NaatUus. 
The  existence  of  two  pairs  of  ctenidia  and  of  two  pairs 
of  nephridia  in  Nautilus,  placed  one  behind  the  other,  is 
highly  remarkable.  The  interest  of  this  arrangement  is  in 
relation  to  the  general  morphology  of  the  Mollusca,  for 
it  is  impossible  to  view  this  repetition  of  organs  in  a  linear 
series  as  anything  else  than  an  instance  of  metameiic  seg- 
mentation, comparable  to  the  segmentation  of  the  ringed 
worms  and  Arthropods.  The  only  other  example  which 
we  have  of  this  metamerism  in  the  Mollusca  is  presented 
by  the  Chitoas.  There  we  find  not  two  pairs  of  ctenidia 
merely,  but  skteen  poirs  (in  some  species  more)  accom- 


Tia.  Ito.— View  of  thB  postero-Veutral  ^orCiee  of  a  mala  Septa,  obtained  oy 
cutting  longitndiLally  the  firm  mantle-skirt  and  drawing  the  divided  halves 
apart  Tbi^  lignre  i^  strictly  comparabk  with  Sg.  101,  C,  the  head  ;  J,  the 
mid-foot  or  siphon,  which  has  been  cut  open  so  as  to  display  the  valve  » ;  S, 
the  glandular  tissue  of  the  left  nephridium  or  renal-sac,  which  has  been  cut 
open  (see  fig.  lOS) ;  P,  P,  the  lateral  fins  of  the  mantle-skirt ;  Br,  the  single 
pair  of  bianchise  (ctenidja) ;  a,  the  anus, — immediately  below  it  is  the  open- 
mg  of  the  ink-hag ;  c,  cartilaginous  socket  in  the  siphon  to  receive  c*,  the 
cartilaginous  knob  of  the  mantle-skirt,  —  the  two  constituting  the  "pallial 
binge  appaimtUB  "  characteristic  of  Decapods,  not  found  in  Octopoda ;  g,  the 
azygos  genital  papilla  and  aperture  ;  '-.,  valve  of  the  siphon  (possiDly  the  rudi- 
mentary hind-foot);  m,  musculai-  bar.d  connected  with  the  fore-foot  and 
mid-foot  (siphon)  and  identical  with  the  muscular  mass  it  in  Sg.  61 ;  r,  renal 
papillae,  carrying  the  apertures  of  the  nephridia;  p.t>r,  branchial  efferent 
blood-vessel ;  cor',  bulbous  enlargements  of  the  bi'snchial  blood-vessels  (see 
Bgs.  1(M,  108) ;  (,  ink-bag.    (Prom  Gegenbaur.) 

panied  by  a  similar  metamerism  of  the  dorsal  integument, 
which  carries  eight  shells.  In  Chiton  the  nephridia  are 
not  affected  by  the  metamerism  as  they  are  in  Nautilus. 
It  is  impossible  on  the  present  occasion  to  discuss  in  the 
way  which  their  importance  demands  the  significance  of 
these  two  instances  among  Mollusca  of  incomplete  or  partial 
metamerism ;  but  it  would  be  wrong  to  pass  them  by  with- 
out insisting  upon  the  great  importance  which  the  occur- 
rence of  these  isolated  instances  of  metameric  segmentation 
in'a  group  of  otherwise  unsegmented  organisms  possesses, 
and  the  light  which  they  may  be  made  to  throw  upon  the 
nature  of  metameric  segmentation  in  general. 

The  foot  and  head  of  Nautilus  are  in  the  adult  inex- 
tricably grown  together,  the  eye  being  the  only  part  belong- 
ing primarily  to  the  head  which  projects  from  the  all- 
embracing  foot.     The  fore-foot  or  front  portion  of  the  foot 


in  Nautilus  has  the  form  of  a  number  of  lobes  carrying 
tentacles  suid  completely  snrrounding  the  mouth  (figs.  88, 
89,  91).  The  mid-foot  is  a  broad  median  muscular  pioc^ss 
which  exhibits  in  the  most  interesting  manner  a  curling  in 
of  its  margins  so  as  to  form  an  incomplete  siphon  (fig. 
101),  a  condition  which  is  completed  and  ren(lered  per- 
manent in  the  tubular  funnel,  which  is  the  form  presented 
by  the  corresponding  part  of  Dibranchiata  (fig.  96).  The 
hind-foot  possibly  is  represented  by  the  valvtilar  fold  on  the 
surface  of  the  siphon-like  mid-foot.  In  the  Pteropoda  the 
vring-hke  swimming  lobes  (epipodia  or  pteropodia)  corre- 
spond to  the  two  halves  of  the  siphon,  and  are  much  the 
largest  element  of  the  foot.  The  foro-foot  surrounding 
the  head  is  often  quite  small,  but  in  Clione  and  Pneumo^ 
dermon  carries  lobes  and  suckers.  A  hind-foot  is  in  Ptero- 
poda often  distinctly  present;  it  is  open  to  doubt  as  to 
whether  the  coixesponding  region  of  the  foot  in  Siphono- 
poda  is  developed  at  alL 

The  lobes  of  the  fore-foot  of  Nautilus  and  of  the  othes 
Siphonopoda  require  further  description.  It  has  been 
doubted  whether  these  lobes  were  rightly  referred  (by 
Huxley)  to  the  fore-foot,  and  it  had  been  maintained  by  some 
zoologists  (Qrenacher,  Jhering)  that  they  are  truly  processes 
of  the  head.  It  appears  tor  the  present  writer  to  be  im- 
possible to  doubt  that  the  lobes  in  question  are  the  fore- 
portion  of  the  foot  when  their  development  is  examined 
(see  fig.  121,  and  especially  fig.  72**),  further,  when  the  fact 
is  considered  that  they  are  innervated  by  the  pedal-ganglion, 
and,  lastly,  when  the  comparison  of  such  a  Siphonopod  as 
Sepia  is  made  with  such  a  Pteropod  as  Pneumodermon  in  its 
larval  (fig.  84)  aswell  as  in  its  adult  condition  (fig.  85).    The 


Fio.  104. — Circulatory  and  excretory  organs  of  Sepia  (from  GegenbaoT,  after 
John  Hunter),  hr,  branchiae  (ctenidia) ;  e,  yentricle  of  the  heart  ;  a,  anterior 
artery  (aorta) ;  a",  posterior  artery ;  v,  the  right  and  left  aurtdes  (enlargo- 
menta  of  the  efferent  branchial  veins) ;  c',  efferent  branchial  vein  on  the  free 
face  of  the  gill-plume ;  c.c,  vena  cava ;  ri,  vc",  advehent  branchial  vessels 
(blanches  of  the  vena  cava,  see  Qg.  106) ;  vc",  abdominal  veins  ;  z,  branchial 
hearts  and  appendajges ;  re-  ^,  glandular  substance  of  the  nephridia  developed 
on  the  wall  of  the  great  veins  on  their  way  to  the  gUlfl.  ^e  arrows  Intlitat" 
the  direction  of  the  blood-current. 

larval  Pneumodermon  shows  clearly  that  the  sucker-bearing 
processes  of  that  Mollusc  are  originally  far  removed  from 
the  head  and  close  in  position  to  the  pteropodial  lobes  of 
the  foot.  By  differential  growth  they  gradually  embrace 
and  obliterate  the  head,  as  do  the  similar  sucker-bearing 
processes  of  Sepia.  In  both  cases  the  sucker-bearing  pro- 
cesses are  "fore-foot,"  The  fore-foot  of  Nautilus  completely 
surrounds  the  buccal  cone  (fig.  88,  «),  so  as  to  present  an 
appearance  with  its  expanded  tentacles  similar  to  that  of  the 
disc  of  a  sea-anemone  (Actinia).  No  figure  has  hitherto 
been  published  exhibiting  this  circum-oral  disc  with  its 
tentacles  in  natural  position  as  when  the  animal  is  alive  and 
swimming,  the  small  figure  of  Valenciennes  being  deficient 
in  detail.  All  the  publishsd  figures  represent  the  actual 
appearance  of  the  contracted  spirit-epecimens.  Mr  A  Q. 
XVI.  —  8s 


674 


MOLLUSCA 


[cEPHAJUOPODl. 


Bourne,  B.Sc,  of  University  College,  has  prepared  from 
actual  specimens  the  drawings  of  this  part  in  the  male  and 
female  Nautilus  reproduced  in  fig..  88,  and  has  restored  the 
parts  to  their  natural  form  when  expanded.  The  drawings 
show  very  strikingly  the  difference  between  male  and  female. 
In  the  female  (lower  figure),  we  observe  in  the  centre  of 
the  disc  the  buccal  cone  e  carrj'ing  the  beak-like  pair  of 
jaws  which  project  from  the  finely  papillate  buccal  membrane. 
Three  tentaculiferous  lobes  of  the  fore-foot  are  in  immediate 
contact  with  this  buccal  cone ;  they  are  the  right  and  left 
(c,  <•)  inner  lobes,  as  we  propose  to  call  them,  and  the  in- 
ferior inner  lobe  ((/), — called  inferior  because  it  really  lies 
ventralwards  of  the  mouth.  •  This  inner  inferior  lobe  is 
clearly  a  double  one,  representing  a  right  and  left  inner 
inferior  lobe  fused  into  one.  A  lamellatcd  organ  on  its  sur- 
face, probably  olfactory  in  function  (n),  marks  the  separation 
of  the  constituent  halves  of  this  double  lobe.  Each  half 
cari'ies  a  group  of  fourteen  tentacles.  The  right  and  the 
left  inner   lobes  (c,  c)  each  carry  twelve  tentacles.     Ex-, 


Pif).  1C5. — Diagram  to  show  the  relatlonfl  of  the  heart  In  the  MoUosca  (from 
GcgeDbauT).  A.  Part  of  the  dorsal  vascular  trunk  and  transverse  trunKs  of 
a  worm.  Xi.  Ventricle  and  auriolos  of  Nautilus.  C.  Of  a  Lamellibranch,  of 
Chiton,  or  of  Loligo.  D.  Of  Octopus.  E.  Of  a  Gastropod,  n,  auricle  ;  v, 
ventricle;  oc,  erteria  cephallca  (aorta):  ai,  aiLcria  abdoininaliB.  Ths  arrows 
show  the  direction  of  tlie  blood-current. 

ternal  to  these  three  lobes  the  muscular  substance  of  the 
mouth-embracing  foot  is  raised  into  a  wide  ring,  which 
becomes  especially  thick  and  large  in  the  dorsal  region 
where  it  is  notably  modified  in  form,  offering  a  concavity 
into  which  the  coil  of  the  shell  is  received,  and  furnish- 
ing a  protective  roof  to  the  retracted  mass  of  tentacles. 
This  part  of  the  e.xtemal  annular  lobe  of  the  fore-foot  is 
called  the  "hood"  (figs.. 90,  91,  m.).  The  median  antero- 
posterior line  traversing  this  hood  exactly  corresponds  to 
the  line  of  concrescence  of  the  two  halves  of  the  fore-foot, 
which  primitively  grew  forward  one  on  each  side  of  the 
bead,  and  finally  fused  together  along  this  line  in  front  of 
the  mouth.  The  tentacles  carried  by  the  great  annular 
lobe  are  nineteen  on  each  side,  thirty-eight  in  all.  They 
are  somewhat  larger  than  the  tentacles  carried  on  the  three 
inner  lobes.  The  dorsalmost  pair  of  tentacles  (marked 
g  in  fig.  88)  are  the  only  ones  which  actually  belong  to 
that  part  of  the  ih:o  which  forms  the  great  dorsal  hood  m. 
The  hood  is,  in  fact,  to  a  large  extent  formed  bythe  enlarged 
sheaths  of  these  two  tentacle,"!.  In  the  Ammonites  (fossi! 
Tetrabranchiata  allied  to  Nautilus)  the  dorsal  surface  of 
the  hood  secreted  a  shelly  plate  in  two  pieces,  known  to 
palfEontologists  as  Trigonellites  and  Aptychus.  Possibly, 
however,  this-  double  plate  was  carried  on  the  surface  ot 
the  bilobed  nidamental  gland  with  the  form  and  sculptur- 
ing of  which,  in  Nautilu.i,  it  closely  agrees.  All  the  ttn- 
taclos  of  the  circum  oral  disc  are  set  in  remarkable  tubular 
sheaths,  into  which  they  can  bo  drawn.  The  sheaths  of 
Eome  of  those  belonging  to  the  external  or  annular  lobo  are 
«cou  in  fig.  91,  marked  n.  The  sheaths  are  muscular  as 
well  as  the  tentacles,  and  are  simply  tubes  from  the  base 
of  which  the  solid  tentacle  grows.  The  functional  signifi- 
cance of  this  sheathing  arrangement  is  as  obscure  as  it", 
inorpliologiral  origin.  With  ryferonce  to  the  latter,  it 
■tppcars  highly  probable  that  the  tubular  sheath  represents 
the  cup  of  a  sucker  such  as  is  found  on  the  fore-foot  of  the 


Dibranchiata.  In  any  case,  it  seems  to  the  writer  impos- 
sible to  doubt  that  each  tentacle,  and  its  sheath  on  a  lobp 
of  the  circum-oral  disc  of  Nautilus,  corresponds  to  a  suckc 
on  such  a  lobe  of  a  Dibranchiate.  Keferstcin  follows  Owen 
in  strongly  opposing  this  identification,  and  in  regarding 
such  tentacle  as  the  equivalent  of  a  whole  lobe  or  ami  of  a 
Decapod  or  Octopod  Dibranch.  AVe  find  in  the  details  of 
these  structures,  especially  in  the  facts  concerning  the 
hectocotyliis  and  spadix,  the  most  conclusive  reasons  for 
dissenting  from  Owen's  view.  We  have  so  far  enumer- 
ated in  the  female  Nautilus  ninety  tentacles.  Four  more 
remain  which  have  a  very  peculiar  position,  and  almost 
lead  to  the  suggestion  that  the  eye  itself  is  a  modified 
tentacle.  These  remaining  tentacles  are  placed  one  above 
(before)  and  one  below  (behind)  each  eye,  and  bring  up 
the  total  to  ninety-four  (fig.  91,  v,  v).  They  must  be  con- 
sidered as  also  belonging  to  the  fore-foot  which  thus  sur- 
rounds the  eye. 

In  the  adult  male  Nautilus  we  find  the  following  im- 
portant ditferences  in  the  tentaculiferous  disc  as  compared 
with  the  female '  (see  upper  drawing  in  fig.  88).  The 
inner  inferior  lobe  is  rudimentary,  and  carries  no  tentacles. 
It  is  represented  by  three  groups  of  lamelbe  (d),  which  are 
not  fully  exposed  in  the  drawing.  The  right  and  left  inner 
lobes  are  subdinded  each  into  two  portions.  The  right 
shows  a  larger  portion  carrying  eight  tentacles,  and  smaller 
detached  groups  (q)  of  four  tentacles,  of  which  three  have 
their  sheaths  united  whilst  one  stands  aloue.  These  four 
tentacles  may  be  called  the  "anti-spadix."  The  left  inner 
lobe  shows  a  similar  larger  portion  carrying  eight  tentacles, 
and  a  curious  conical  body  in  front  of  it  coiresponding  to 
the  anti-spadix.  This  is  the  "  spadix  "  of  Van  der  Hoeven 
(36).  It  carries  no  tentacles,  but  is  terminated  by  imbri- 
cated lamellae.  These  lamellae  appear  to  represent  the  four 
tentacles  of  the  anti-spadix  of  the  right  internal  lobe,  and 
are  generally  regarded  as  corresponding  to  that  modification 
of  the  sucker-bearing  arms  of  male  Dibranchiate  Siphono- 
pods  to  which  the  name  "  hectocotylus  "  is  applied.  The 
spadix  is  in  fact  the  hectocotylized  portion  of  the  fore- 
foot of  the  male  NautUus.  The  hcctocotylized  arm  or  lobe 
of  male  Dibranchiata  is  Connected  with  the  process  of  copu- 
lation, and  in  the  maie  Nautilus  the  spadLx  has  probably  a 
similar  significance,  though  it  is  not  possible  to  suggest 
how  it  acts  in  this  relation.  It  is  important  to  observe 
that  the  modification  of  the  fore-foot  in  the  mala  as  com- 
pared with  the  female  Nautilus  is  not  confined  to  the 
existence  of  the  spadix.  The  anti-spadix  and  the  reduction 
of  the  inner  inferior  lobe  are  also  male  peculiarities.  The 
external  annular  lobe  in  the  male  does  not  differ  from  that 
of  the  female  ;  it  carries  nineteen  tentacles  on  each  side. 
The  four  ophthalmic  tentacles  are  also  present.  Thus  in 
the  male  Nautilus  we  find  altogether  sixty-two  tentacles, 
the  thirty -two  additional  tentacles  of  the  female  being  repre- 
sented by  laraelliform  structiu-es. 

If  we  now  compare  the  fore-foot  of  the  Dibranchiata  with 
that  of  Nautilus,  we  find  in  the  first  place  a  more  simple 
arrangement  of  its  lobes,  which  are  either  four  or  five  pairs 
of  tapering  processes  (called  "  arms  ")  arranged  in  a  series 
around  the  buccal  cone,  and  a  substitution  of  suckers  for 
tentacles  on  the  surface  of  these  lobes  (figs.  92,  95,  96) 
The  most  dorsally-placed  pair  of  arms,  corresponding  to  the 
two  sides  of  the  hood  of  Nautilus,  ore  in  reality  the  most 
anterior  (sec  fig.  75,  (G) ),  and  ore  termed  the  first  pair.  In 
the  Octopuda  there  are  four  pairs  of  those  arms  (figs.  94, 
95),  in  the  Decapoda  five  jiairs,  of  which  the  fourth  is 
greatly  elongated  (figs.  92,  93).  In  Sepia  and  other  Deca- 
poda (not  all)  each  of  these  long  arms  is  -n-ithdrawn  into  a 
pouch  beside  the  head,  and  is  only  ejected  for  the  purpose 
of  prehension.  The  figures  referred  to  show  some  of  the 
variations  in  form  which  these  arms  may  assume.     In  the 


CEPHALOPODA.] 


MOLLUSCA 


675 


Octopoda  tney  are  not  unfreqnently  connected  by  a  web, 
and  form  an  efficient  swimming-belL  The  suckers  are  placed 
OK  the  ad-oral  surface  of  the  arms,  and  may  be  in  one, 
two,  or  four  rows,  and  very  numerous.  In  place  of  suckers 
in  some  genera  we  find  on  certain  arms' or  parts  of  the 
arms  homy  hooks ;  in  other  cases  a  hook  rises  from  the 
centre  of  each  sucker.  The  hooks  on  the  long  arms  of 
Onychoteuthis  are  drawn  in  fig.  97.  The  fore-foot,  with 
its  apparatus  of  suckers  and  hooks,  is  in  the  Dibranchiata 
essentially  a  prehensile  apparatus,  though  the  whole  series 
of  arms  in  the  Octopoda  serve  as  swimming  organs,  and  in 
many  (e.<?.,  the  Common  Octopus  or  Poulp)  the  sucker- 
bearing  surface  is  used  as  a  crawling  organ. 

In  the  males  of  the  Dibranchiata  one  of  the  arms  is 
more  or  less  modified  in  connexion  with  the  reproductive 
function,  and  ia  called  the  "  hectocotylised  arm."  This 
name  is  derived  from  the  condition  assumed  by  the  arm 
in  those  cases  in  which  its  modification  is  carried  out  to 
the  greatest  extent.  Thesa  cases  are  those  of  the  Octo- 
pods  Argonauia  argo  and  Parasira  caienvlata  (fig.  9G). 
In  the  males  of  these  the  third  arm  (on  the  left  side  in 
Argonauta,  on  the  right  side  in  Parasira)  is  found  before 
the  breeding  season  to  be  represented  by  a  globular  sac  of 
integument.  This  sac  bursts,  and  from  it  issues  an  arm 
larger  than  its  neighbours,  having  a  small  sac  at  its  extremity 
in  Parasira  (fig.  96,  x),  from  which  subsequently  a  long 
filament  issues.  Before  copulation  the  male  chaxges  this 
arm  with  the  spermatophores  or  packets  of  spermatozoa 
removed  from  its  generative  orifice  beneath  the  mantle-skirt, 
and  during  coitus  the  arm  becomes  detached  and  is  left 
adhering  to  the  female  by  means  of  its  suckers.  A  new  arm 
is  formed  at  the  cicatrix  before  the  next  breeding  season. 
The  female,  being  much  larger  than  the  male,  s-nims  away 
with  the  detached  arm  loHged  beneath  her  mantle-skirt. 
There,  in  a  way  which  is  not  understood,  the  fertilization 
of  the  eggs  is  effected.  Specimens  of  the  female  Parasira 
with  the  detached  arm  adherent  were  ezamiued  by  Cuvier, 
who  mistook  the  arm  for  a  parasitic  worm  and  gave  to  it 
the  name  Hectocotylus.  Accordingly,  the  correspondingly 
modified  arms  of  other  Siphonopoda  are  said  to  be  hecto- 
cotylized.  Steenstrup  has  determined  the  hectocotylized 
condition  of  one  or  other  of  the  arms  in  a  nimiber  of  male 
Dibranchs  ts  follows : — in  all,  excepting  Argonauta  and 
Parasira,  the  laodincation  of  the  arm  ia  slight,  consisting  in 
a  small  enlargement  of  part  or  the  whole  of  the  arm,  and- 
the  obliteration  of  some  of  its  suckers,  as  shown  in  fig.  95, 
A,  Bj  in  Octopus  and  Eledone  the  third  right  arm  is 
hectocotylized;  in  Rossia  the  first  left  arm  is  hectocotylized 
along  its  whole  length,  and  the  first  right  arm  abo  in  the 
middle  only ;  in  Sepiola  only  the  first  left  arm  along  its 
whole  length ;  in  Sepia  it  is  the  fourth  left  arm  which  is 
modified,  and  at  its  base  only ;  in  Sepioteuthis,  the  same  at 
its  apex ;  in  Loligo,  the  same  also  at  its  apex;  in  Loliolus, 
the  same  along  its  whole  length ;  in  Ommastrephes, 
Onychoteuthis,  and  Loligopsis  no  hectocotylized  arm  has 
hitherto  been  observed. 

In  the  females  of  several  Dibranchs  (Sepia,  &c.)  the 
packets  of  spermatozoa  or  Eporiaatophores  received  from 
the  male  have  been  observed  adhering  to  the  smaller  arms. 
How  they  are  passed  in  this  case  by  the  female  to  the  ova 
in  order  to  fertilize  them  is  unknown. 

Musculature,  Fins^jxnd  Cartilaginous  Skeleton. — Without 
entering  into  a  detailed  account  of  the  musculatm-e  of 
Nautilus,  we  may  point  out  that  the  great  muscular  masses 
of  the  fore-foot  and  of  the  mid-foot  (siphon)  are  ultimately 
traceable  to  a  large  transverse  mass  of  muscular  tissue, 
the  ends  of  which  are  visible  through  the  integument  on 
the  right  and  left  surfaces  of  the  body  dorsal  of  the 
free  flap  of  the  mantle-skirt  (fig.  89,  I,  I,  and  fig.  91,  k). 
These  moscukr  areie  have  a  certain  adhesion  to  the  shell. 


and  serve  both  to  hold  the  animal  in  its  shell  and  as  the 
fixed  supports  for  the  various  movepients  of  the  teataculi- 
ferous  lobes  and  the  siphon.  Tbey  are  to  be  identified 
with  the  ring-like  asea  of  adhesion  by  which  the  f  oot-muscia 
of  the  Limpet  is  attached  to  the  shell  of  that  animal  (see 
fig.  27).  In  the  Dibranchs  a  similar  origin  of  the  muscular 
masses  of  the  fore-foot  and  mid-foot  from  the  sides  of  the 
shell — modified,  as  this  is,  in  position  and  relations — can  be 
traced. 

In  Nautilus  there  are  no  fin-like  expansions  of  the  integu- 
ment, whereas  such  occur  in  the  Decapod  Dibranchs  along 
the  sides  of  the  visceral  himip  (figs.  92,  93).  As  an  excep- 
tion among  Octopoda  lateral  fins  occur  in  Pinnoctopus  (fig. 
94,  A),  and  in  Cirrhoteutbis  (fig.  94,  D).  In  the  Ptero- 
podous  division  of  the  Cephalopoda  such  fin-like  expansions 
of  the  dorsal  integument  do  not  occur,  which  is  to  be  con- 
nected with  the  fact  that  another  region,  the  mid-foot^ which 
in  Siphonopoda  is  converted  into  a  siphon,  is  in  them 
expanded  as  a  pair  of  fins. 

In  Nautilus  there  is  a  curious  plate-like  expansion  of 
integument  in  the  mid-dorsal  region  just  behind  the  hood, 
lying  between  that  structure  and  the  portion  of  mantle- 
skirt  which  is  reflected  over  the  shell  This  is  shown  in 
fig.  90,  b.  If  we  trace  out  the  margin  of  this  plate  we 
find  that  it  becomes  continuous  on  each  side  vrith  the 
sides  of  the  siphon  or  mid-foot.  In  Sepia  and  other  Deca- 
pods (not  in  Gctopods)  a  closely  similar  plate  exists  in  an 
exactly  corregponding  position  (see  b  in  figs.  110,  111).  In 
Sepia  a  cartilaginous  development  occurs  here  immediately 
below  the  integument  forming  the  so-called  "  nuchal  plate," 
drawn  in  fig.  116,  D.  The  morphological  significance  of 
this  nuchal  lamella,  as  seen  both  in  Nautilus  and  in  Sepia,» 
is  not  obvious.  Cartilage  having  the  efracture  shown  in 
fig.  117  occurs  in  various  regions  of  the  body  of  Siphono- 
poda. In  all  Glossophorous  Mollusca  the  lingual  apparatus 
is  supported  by  internal  skeletal  pieces,  having  the  char- 
acter of  cartilage ;  but  in  the  Siphonopodous  Cephalopoda 
such  cartilage  has  a  vrider  range. 

In  Nautilus  a  large  H-shaped  piece  of  cartuaga  is  found 
forming  the  axis  of  the  mid-foot  or  siphon  (£^.  116,  A, 
B).  Its  hinder  part  extends  up  into  the  head  and  supports 
the  peri-cesophageal  nerve-mass  (a),  wliilst  its  two  anterior 
rami  eictend  into  the  tongue-like  siphon.  In  Sepia,  and 
Dibranchs  generally,  the  cartilage  takes  a  different  form, 
as  shown  in  fig.  116,  C.  The  processes  of  this  cartilage 
cannot  be  identified  in  any  Vay  with  those  of  the  capito- 
pedal  cartilage  of  Nautilus.  The  lower  larger  portion  of 
this  cartilage  in  Sepia  is  called  the  cephalic  cartilage,  and 
forms  a  complete  ring  round  the  oesophagus  ;  it  completely 
invests  also  the  ganglionic  nerve-collar,  so  that  all  tha 
nerves  from  the  latter  have  to  jjass  through  foramina  in 
the  cartilage.  The  outer  angles  of  this  cartilage  spread 
out  on  each  side  so  &s  to  form  a  cup-like  receptacle  for  the 
eyes.  The  two  processes  sprkiging  right  and  left  from  this 
large  cartilage  in  the  median  line  (fig.  116,  C)  are  the 
"  prae-orbital  cartilages ; "  in  front  of  these,  again,  there  is 
seen  a  piece  like  an  inverted  T,  which  forms  a  support  to 
the  base  of  the  "arms"  of  the  fore-foot,  and  is  the  "basi- 
brachial "  cartilage.  The  Decapod  Dibranchs  have,  further, 
the  "  nuchal  cartilage  "  already  mentioned,  and  in  Sepia,  a 
thin  plate-like  *  6ulM)Stracal "  or  (so-called)  dorsal  cartilage, 
the  anterior  end  of  which  rests  on  and  fits  into  the  concave 
nuchal  cartilage.  In  O'topoda  there  is  no  nuchal  cartilage, 
but  two  band-like  "  dorsal  carrilascs."  In  Decapods  there 
are  also  two  cartilaginous  sockets  on  the  sides  of  the  funnel 
— "  siphon-hinge  cartilages  " — into  which  fleshy  knobs  of 
tha  mantle-skirt  are  loosely  fitted.  In  Sepia,  along  the 
whole  base-line  of  each  lateral  fin  of  the  mantie  (fig.  92), 
is  a  "  basi-pterygial  cartilage."  It  is  worthy  of  remark  th^vt 
we  have,  thvs  developed,  in  Dibrauch  Siplionopods  a  morf, 


676 


MOLLUS'CA 


[CEPILVLOPODA. 


complete  internal  cartilaginous  skeleton  than  is  to  be  found 
in  some  of  tie  lower  Vertebrates.  There  are  other  instances 
of  cartilaginous  endo-skeleton  in  groups  other  than  the 
Vertebrata.  Thus  in  some  capito-liranchiate  Chxtopods 
cartilage  forms  a  skeletal  support  for  tho  giU-plmnes,  whilst 
in.  the  Arachnids  (IVIygale,  Scorpio)  and  in  Limulus  a  large 
internal  cartilaginous  plate— the  ento-sternite — is  devel- 
oped as  a  support  for  a  large  series  of  muscles. 

Alimentary  Tract. — The  buccal  cone  of  Nautilus  is  ter- 
minated by  a  villous  margin  (buccal  membrane)  .siu-round- 
ing  the  pair  of  beak-like  jaws.  These  are  very  strong  and 
dense  in  Nautilus,  being  calcified.  FosdiliEed  beaks  of  Tetra- 
branchiata  are  known  under  the  name  of  RhynchoHtes. 
In  Dibranchs  the  beaks  are  horny,  but  similar  in  shape  to 
thoSe  of  Nautilus.  They  resemble  in  general  those  of  a 
parrot,  the  lower  beak  being  the 
larger,  and  overlapping  the  upper  or 
dorsal  beak.  The  Ungual  ribbon  and 
odontophoral  apparatas  has  the  struc- 
ture which  is  typical  for  Glosso- 
phorous  MoUusca.  In  fig.  107,  A  is 
represented  a  single  row  of  teeth 
from  the  lingual  ribbon  of  Nautilus, 
and  in  fig.  107,  B,  C,  of  other  Si- 
phonopoda. 

In  Nautilus  a  long  and  wide  crop 
or  dilated  oesophagus  {cr,  fig.  110) 
passes  from  the  muscular  buccal  mass, 
and  at  the  apex  of  the  visceral  hump 
passes  into  a  highly  muscular  stom- 
ach, resembling  the  gizzard  of  a  bird 
{gizz,  fig.  110).  A  nearly  straight 
intestine  passes  from  the  muscular 
stomach  to  the  anus,  near  which  it 
develops  a  small  ctecum.  In  other 
Siphonopods  the  oesophagus  is  usually  f,o.  loc— Alimentary  canal 
narrower  (fig.  106,  oe\  and  the  mus-    ofi^hjomjidaiactromGe 

,  \    o  )       /»  ^  Kenbaur)    The  buccal  mass 

cular  stomach  more  capacious'  (fig.  is  omitted  »«,  cEsophagiis . 
106,  .),_  whilst  a  very  important  :;^£T^T^,11ZVZI, 
feature  in   the    alimentary   tract  is    through  the  pylorus;  c, 

c     ji,iT,  T         111.,      commencement  of  the  c:e- 

formed  by  the  caecum.  In  all  but  cum ;  t,  its  spiral  portion ; 
Nautilus  the   cscum   lies   near   the    \i «««''''=;  f. '°'''>^? •  ''■ 

,  J  ,  it6openingintotberecti:m 

Btomacn,  and  may  be  very  capacious 
— much  larger  than  the  stomach  in  LoKgo  vulgaris — ni' 
■  elongated  into  a  spiral  coil,  as  '■'  fig.  106.  e.     The  simple 


plicity  in  consequence  of  their  visceral  hump  being  un- 
twisted. The  acini  of  the  large  liver  of  Nautilus  are 
compacted  into  a  solid  reddish-brown  mass  by  a  firm 
membrane,  as  also  is  the  case  in  the  Dibranchiata. 
The  Uver  has  four  paired  lobes  in  Nautilus,  which  open 
by  two  bile-ducts  into  the  alimentary  canal  at  the  com- 
mencement of  the  intestine.  The  bile-ducts  unite  before 
entering  the  intestine.  In  Dibranchiata  the  two  large 
lobes  of  the  liver  are  placed  antero-dorsally  (beneath 
the  shell  in  Decapoda),  and  the  bile-ducts  open  into  the 
cjecum. '  Upon  the  bile-ducts  in  Dibranchiata  are  deve- 
loped yellowish  glandulai'  diverticula,  which  are  known 
as  "pancreas,"  though  neither  physiologically  nor  morpho- 
logically b  there  any  ground  for  considering  either  the  so- 
called  liver  or  the  so-called  pancreas  as  strictly  equivalent 
to  the  glands  so  denominated  in  the  Vertebrata.  In  Nauti- 
lus the  equivalents  of  the  pancreatic  diverticula  of  the 
Dibranchs  can  be  traced  upon  the  relatively  shorter  bile- 
ducts. 

Salivary  Glands  are  not  developed  in  Nautilus  unless  a 
pair  of  glandular  masses  lying  on  the  buccal  cavity  are  to 
be  considered  as  such.  In  the  Dibranchs,  on  the  contrary, 
one  (Sepia,  Loligo)  or  two  pairs  of  large  salivary  glands 
are  present,  an  anterior  and  a  posterior  (Octopus,  Eledone, 
Onychoteuthis).  Each  pair  of  salivary  glands  has  its 
paired  ducts  united  to  form  a  single  duct,  which  runs 
forward  from  the  glands  and  opens  into  the  buccal  cavity 


'•y- 


::-r^ni 


Fto,  107.— Lln8:ual  dentition  of  filphonopi-Kla. 
of  Kaiifilus  pompiliiis  (after  Kofonstcln). 
Stfiia  oJJicinalM  (after  Trosc" 
Loveo). 


luir  of  linsTinl  teeOi 

of  Uogiml  tfMh  of 

Lingual  te«th  of  Eledotu  virriiosa  (alter 


l7-shapecl  flexure  of  the  alimentary  tract  aa  c-ioen  in  fig. 
106,  and  in  fig.  110,  is  the  only  importuiit  one  which  it 
cxhibit-s  in  the  Cephalopotia, — the  Pteropoda  (except  the 
Limaeinida)  agreeing  with  the  Siphonopoda  in  this  siin- 


nJ  tho  veins  which  nm  through 
,  „        .      rbe  nephrldial  sacs  are  eupposetl 

to  liave  their  upper  walls  removed,  v.c,  vena  cava ;  r.d.v.c,  right  descending 
branch  of  tho  same ;  r.3.v.c,  left  descending  bi-snch  of  the  same  ;  v.b.a,,  vein 
fmni  tho  ir.k-bag ;  v.vi,  mesenteric  vein ;  v.g,  genital  vein  ;  v.a.d,  riglit 
abdominal  vein ;  v.a.s,  loft  abdominal  vein  ;  v.p.d,  right  pallial  vein ;  v.p.K, 
l--rt  pullial  vein  ;  c.h,  branchial  heart ;  x,  appendage  of  the  same  ;  c.t>.  capsule 
I'f  tlin  branchial  heart;  np,  external  aperture  of  the  right  nephridial  sac;  (f, 
rLTK-ppricardial  orifice  placing  the  left  renal  sac  or  nephridium  in  communi- 
cali'iu  with  the  vise ero- pericardial  sac,  the  course  of  which  below  the  nepkri- 
ilial  sac  ia  ibdicated  by  dotted  lines  ;  j/",  tho  similar  orifice  of  the  right  side ; 
a.r,  slandular  renal  outgrowtlis ;  w.k,  vlsccro- pericardial  sac  (dotted  outlineX 

near  the  radula.  The  anterior  pair  of  glands  when  present 
lie  in  the  head  near  the  buccal  mass,  the  posterior  pair  lie 
much  farther  back  beneath  the  liver,  at  the  sides  of  the 
oesophagus..  It  is  the  posterior  pair  which  alone  are  pre- 
sent in  Sepia  and  Loligo.  The  ink-bag  is  to  be  considered 
as  an  appendage  of  the  rectum.  It  is  not  developed  in 
Nautilus,  nor  in  the  Pteropoda;  in  all  Dibranchiata  (even  in 
the  fossil  Belemnites)  it  is  present  (fig.  106,  a ;  fig.  103,  (), 
and  has  been  observed  to  develop  as  a  diverticulum  of  the 
rectum,  with  spirally  plaited  walls  which  very  early  secrete 
a  binck  pigment.    The  spiral  plaitings  of  the  walls  diminish 


CEPHALOPODA.] 


MOLLUSCA 


677 


in  relative  size  as  the  volume  of  the  sac  increases.  Its 
outer  surface  acquires  a  metallic  iridescence  similar  to  that 
of  the  integuments  of  many  fishes.  The  opening  of  the 
ink-sac  is  in  the  adult  sometimes  distinct  from  but  near  to 


Vto.  109.— Diagram  to  sliowthe  relatione  of  nicfonrnephrldlal  sacs,  thoviacero- 
pcricardial  sac,  and  the  heart  and  large  vessels  in  Santilus  (drawn  by  A  G. 
Bonme).  neph,  Mtph,  on  the  right  side  point  to  the  two  nephridia  of  that 
aide  (the  two  of  the  opposite  side  are  not  lettered),- -each  is  seen  to  have  an 
Independent  aperture ;  j  is  the  \iscero- pericardial  sac,  the  dotted  line  indicat- 
ing it3  backv-ard  extension ;  visc.per.apert  marlcs  an  arrow  introduced  into 
the  right  aperture  of  the  viscero-pericardial  sac;  r.e.,  r.e..  point  to  the 
glandular  enlarged  walls  of  the  advehent  hrancliial  vessels, — two  small 
glandular  bodies  of  the  kind  are  seen  to  project  into  each  nephridial  sac. 
whilst  a  larger  body  of  the  same  kind  depends  from  each  of  the  four  branchial 
advelient  vessels  into  tlie  viscero-pei-icardial  sac;  v.c,  vena  cava;  re»f, 
ventricle  of  the  heart;  ao.,  ceplialic  aorta  (the  small  abdominal  aorta  not 
draAvn) ;  a.b.v,  advehent  branchial  vessel ;  c.v.b.,  efferent  branchial  vessel. 

the  anus  (Sepia)  ;  in  other  cases  it  opens  into  the  rectum 
near  the  anus.  The  ink-bag  of  Dibranch  Siphonopoda  is 
IKissibly  to  bo  identified  with  the  adrectal  (purpuriparous) 
gland  of  some  Gastropoda. 

Ccelom,  Blood-vascular  System,  and  Excretory  Organs. — 
Nautilus  and   the  other    Siphonopoda    conform   to  the 


The  parts  which  are  quite  black  ai%  the  cut  muscular  s'jrlaces  of  the  foot  and 
buccal  mass,  a,  the  shell ;  6,  the  nuchal  plate  identical  with  the  nuchal 
cartihige  of  Sepia  (see  flg.  90,  V) ;  c,  the  integument  covering  the  visceral 
hump ;  d,  the  mantle  flap  or  skirt  in  the  dorsal  region  where  it  rests  against 
the  coil  of  the  shell ;  e,  the  inferior  margin  of  the  mantle.slcirt  resting  on  the 
lip  of  the  shell  represented  by  the  dotted  line  ;  /,  the  pallial  chamber  with 
two  of  the  four  gills ;  g,  tlie  vertically  cut  median  portion  of  the  mid-foot 
(siphon);  ft,  the  capito-pedal  cartilage  (see  fig.  116);  i,  the  valve  of  the 
siphon  :  I,  the  siphuncular  pedicle  (cut  short) ;  m,  the  hood  or  dorsal  enlarge, 
mcnt  of  the  annular  lobe  of  the  fore-foot ;  n,  tentacles  of  the  annular  loije ; 
IS  tentacles  of  the  inner  Inferior  lobe :  q,  buccal  membrane ;  r,  upper  jaw  or 
beak  :  »,  lower  jaw  or  beak  ;  t,  lingual  ribbon  ;  i,  the  viscero-pericarxlial  sac  ; 
n.c,  nerve-collar ;  oe,  oesophagus ;  ct,  crop ;  gizz,  gizzard  ;  i" 'i/,  intestine ;  an, 
anus;  iii,  nidamental  gland;  ncpt,  aperture  of  a  nephridial  sac;  r.e,  renal 
glandulaj  masses  on  the  walls  of  the  afferent  branchial  veins  (see  tig  109) ; 
"    ',  efferent  branchial  vessel ;  tf,  ventricle 

general  Molluscan  characters  in  regard  to  these  organs. 
Whilst  the  general  body-cavity  or  coelom  forms  a  lacunar 


blood-system  or  series  of  narrow  spaces,  connected  with 
the  trunks  of  a  well-developed  vascular  system,  that  part 
of  the  original  coelom  surrounding  the  heart  and  known 
as  the  Molluscan  pericardium  becomes  shut  off  from  this 
general  blood-lymph  system,  and  communicates,  directly  in 
Nautilus,  in  the  rest  through  the  nephridia,  with  the  exte- 
rior. In  the  Siphonopoda  this  specialized  pericardial  cavitj- 
is  particularly  large,  and  has  been  recognized  as  distinct 
from  the  blood-carrjTjig  spaces,  even  by  anatomists  who 
have  not  considered  the  pericardial  space  of  other  Mollusca 
to  be  thus  isolated.  The  enlarged  pericardium,  which  may 
even  take  the  form  of  a  pair  cf  sacs,  has  been  variously 
named,  but  is  best  known  as  the  viscero-pericardial  sac  or 
chamber.  In  Nautilus  this  sac  occupies  the  whole  of  the 
postero-dorsal  surface  and  a  part  of  the  antero-dorsal  (see 
fig.  110,  x),  investing  the  genital  and  other  viscera  which 
lie  below  it,  and  having  the  ventricle  of  the  heart  sus- 
pended ia  it.  Certain  membranes  forming  incomplete 
septa,  and  a  curious  muscular  band — the  pallio-cardiac 
band — traverse  the  sac.  The  four  branchial  advehent  veins, 
which  in  traversing  the  walls  of  the  four  nephridial  sacs 
6i>  e  off,  as  it  were,  glandular  diverticula  into  those  sacs, 
also  give  off  at  the  same  points  four  much  larger  glandular 


app. 


Tic.  111. — Diagram  representing  a  vertical  approximately  median  antero- 
posterior section  of  Seyia  o^cinalie  (&om  a  drawing  by  A.  O.  Bourne).  Tbe 
lettcringcorresponds  with  that  of  fig.  110,  ivith  which  this  drawing  is  intended 
to  be  compared,  a,  aheU  (here  enclosed  by  a  growth  of  the  mantle);  6,  the 
nuclial  plate  fhere  a  cartilage);  c  (the  reference  line  should  be  continued 
through  the  black  area  rep|esentinfi  the  shell  to  the  outline  below  It),  the 
integujnent  covering  the  \nsceral  hump ;  d,  the  reflected  portion  of  the 
mantle-skirt  forming  the  eac  which  encloses  the  sheU  ;  e,  the  inferior  margin 
of  the  mantle-skirt  (mouth  of  the  pallial  chamber) ;  /  the  paUial  chamber ; 
g,  the  vertically  cut  median  portion  of  the  mid-foot  (siphon) ;  (,  the  valve  oi 
the  siphon  :  m,  the  two  opper  lobes  of  the  fore-foot ;  n,  the  long  prebensnc 
arms  of  the  saioe  ;  o,  the  fifth  or  lowermost  lobe  of  the  fore-foot ;  p,  the  third 
lobe  of  tlie  fore-foot ;  5,  the  buccal  membrane  ;  v,  the  opper  beak  or  jaw ;_«, 
the  lower  besk  or  jaw  ;  f,  the  lingual  ribbon  ;  z,  the  viscero-pericardial  sac ; 
n.c,  the  nerve-collar  ;  cr.,  the  crop ;  gizz.,  the  gizzard ;  an,  the  anus ;  c.(.,  the 
left  ctenidiujn  or  gill-plume;  vent,  ventricle  of  the  heart;  a.b.v.,  affereat 
branchial  vessel ;  t.b.v,  efferent  brancliial  vessel ;  re,  renal  glandular  mass ; 
n.n.a,  left  nephridial  apei-ture;  visc.per.apert. ,  viscero-pericardial  aperture 
(see  fig.  IDS) ;  br.b.,  branchial  heart ;  opp.,  appendage  of  the  same  ;  i.s.,  Ink- 
bag. 

masses,  which  hang  freely  into  the  viscero-pericardial 
chamber  (fig.  109,  r.e).  In  Nautilus  the  viscero-pericardial 
sac  opens  to  the  exterior  directlj'  by  a  pair  of  apertures,  one 
placed  close  to  the  right  and  one  close  to  the  left  posterior 
nephridial  aperture  (fig.  101,  viscper.).  This  direct  opening 
of  the  pericardial  sac  to  the  exterior  is  an  exception  to  what 
occurs  in  all  other  Mollusca.  In  all  other  Molluscs  the 
pericardial  sac  opens  into  the  nephridia,  and  through  them 
or  the  one  nephridium  to  the  exterior.  In  Nautilus  there 
is  no  opening  from  the  viscero-pericardial  sac  into  the 
nephridia.  Therefore  the  external  pore  of  the  viscero-peri- 
cardial sac  may  po.^ibly  be  regarded  as  a  shifting  of _  the 
reno-pericardial  orifice  from  the  actual  wall  of  the  nephridial 
sac  to  a  position  alongside  of  its  orifice.  Parallel  cases 
of  such  shifting  are  seen  in  the  varying  position  of  the 
orifice  of  the  ink-bag  in  Dibranchiata,  and  in  the  orifice 
of  the  genital  ducts  of  Mollusca,  which  in  some  few  cases 
(e.g.,  Spondylus)  open  into  the  nephridia,  whilst  in  other 
cases  they  open  close  by  the  side  of  the  nephridia  on  the 
surface  of  the  bodv.     The  viscero-nericaidl-Ll  sac  "f  tUt 


678 


M  O  L  L  U  S  C  A 


[cephalopoda. 


Dibranchs  b  very  large  also,  and  extends  into  the  dorsal 
region.  It  varies  in  shape — that  is  to  say,  in  the  extensions 
of  its  area  right  and  left  between  the  various  viscera, — in 
different  genera,  but  in  the  Decapods  is  largest.  In  an  ex- 
tension of  this  chamber  is  placed  the  ovary  of  Sepia,  whilst 
the  ventricle  of  the  heart  and  the  branchial  hearts  and  their 
appendages  also  lie  in  it.  It  is  probable  that  water  is 
drawn  into  this  chamber  through  the  nephridia,  since  sand 
and  other  foreign  matters  are  found  in  it.  In  all  it  opens 
into  the  pair  of  nephridial  sacs  by  an  orilice  on  the  wall  of 
each,  not  far  from  the  external  orifice  (fig.  108,  y,  y'). 
There  does  not  seem  any  room  for  doubting  that  each  orifice 
corresponds  to  the  reno-pericardial  orifico  which  we  have 
seen  in  the  Gastropoda,  and  .shall  find  again  in  the  Lamelli- 
branchia.  The  single  tube-lilce  nephridium  and  the  peri- 
eardirju  of  the  Pteropoda  also  communicate  by  an  aperture. 
The  circulatory  organs,  blood-vessels,  and  blood  of  Nauti- 
lus do  not  difiTer  greatly  from  those  of  Gastropoda.  The 
ventricle  of  the  heart  is  a  four-cornered  body,  receiving  a 
dilated  branchial  eifertnt  vessel  (auricle)  at  each  comer 
(fig.  103).  It  gives  off  a  cejihalic  aorta  anteriorly,  and 
a  smaller  abdominal  aorta  posteriorly.  The  diagram,  fig. 
105,  serves  to  show  how  this  simple  form  of  heart  is  related 
to  the  dorsal  vessel  of  a  worm  or  of  an  Artliropod,  and  how 
by  a  simple  flexure  of  the  ventricle  (D)  and  a  subsequent 
suppression  of  one  auricle,  following  on  the  suppression  of 
one  brancMaJ~one  may  obtain  the  form  of  heart  charac- 
teristic of  the  Anisopleurous  Gastropoda  (excepting  the 
Zygobranchia).  The  flexed  condition  of  the  heart  is  seen 
in  Octopu.'i,  and  is  to  some  extent  ap^.roached  by  Nautilus, 
the  median  vessels  not  presenting  that  perfect  parallelism 
which  is  shown  in  the  figure  (B).  The  most  remai-kable 
feature  presented  by  the  heart  of  Nautilus  is  the  possession 
of  four  instead  of  two  auricles,  a  feature  which  is  simply 
related  to  the  metamerism  of  the  branchiae.  By  the  left 
side  of  the  heart  of  Nautilus,  attached  to  it  by  a  membrane, 
and  hanging  loosely  in  the  viscero-pericardial  chamber,  is 
th?  pyriform  sac  of  Owen.  This  has  recently  been  shown 
to  bo  the  rudimentai'y  left  oviduct  or  sperm-duct,  as  the 
case  may  be  (Lankester  and  Bourne,  37),  the  functional 
right  cvi-sac  and  its  duct  being  attached  by  a  membrane 
to  the  opposite  side  of  the  heart. 

The  cephalic  and  abdominal  aortse  of  Nautilus  appear, 
after  running  to  the  anterior  and  posterior  extremes  of  the 
animal  respSctively,  to  open  into  sinus-like  spaces  surround- 
ing the  viscera,  muscular  masses,  <fcc.  These  spaces  are 
not  large,  but  confined  and  shallow.  Capillaries  are  stated 
to  occur  in  the  integument.  In  the  Dibranclis  the  arterial 
system  is  very  much  more  complete ;  it  appears  in  some 
cases  to  end  in  irregular  lacunie  or  sinuses,  in  other  cases 
in  true  capillaries  which  lead  on  into  veins.  An  investiga- 
tion of  these  capillaries  in  the  light  of  modern  histological 
knowledge  is  much  needed.  From  the  sinuses  and  capil- 
laries the  veins  take  origin,  collecting  into  a  large  median 
trunk  (the  vena  cava),  which  in  the  Dibranchs  as  well  as  in 
Nautilus  has  a  ventral  (postero-ventral)  position,  and  runs 
parallel  to  the  long  axis  of  the  animal.  In  Nautilus  this 
vena  cava  gives  off  at  the  level  of  the  gills  four  branchial 
advehent  veins  (fig.  109,  v.c),  which  pass  into  the  four 
g^la  OTthout  dilaticg.  Li  the  Dibranchs  at  a  similar  posi- 
tion tho  vena  cava  gives  off  a  right  and  a  left  branchial 
advcheat  vein  (fig.  108,  r.s.v.c,  r.d.v.c),  each  of  which, 
traversing  the  wall  of  tho  correviponding  nephridial  .Siic  and 
receiving  additional  factor^  (fig.  108,  v.(j,  v.p.d,  v.a.d,  v.b.a), 
dilates  at  the  base  of  the  corresponding  branchial  plume, 
forming  there  a  pulsating  sac — the  branchial  heart  (fig.lOi, 
x;  and  Uti  108,  c.h).  Attached  to  each  branchial  heart  is  a 
cttfious  glandular  body,  which  may  possibly  be  related  to 
ths  larger  ma-ss?s  (r.c  in  fig.  109)  which  depend  into  tho 
viscero-pericardial  cavity  from  tho  branchial  advehent  veins 


of  Nautilus.  From  the  dilated  branchial  heart  the  bran- 
chial advehent  vessel  proceeds,  running  up  the  ad-pallial 
face  of  the  gill-plume  {vi,  vc',,  fig.  104).  From  each  gill- 
plume  the  blood  passes  by  the  branchial  efferent  vessels 
(v,  fig.  104)  to  the  heart,  the  two  auricles  being  formed 
by  the  dilatation  of  these  vessels  (a,  v  in  fig.  104). 

The  blood  of  Siphonopoda  contains  the  usual  amoeboid  cor- 
puscles, and  a  diffused  colouring  matter — the  haemocyanin 
of  Fredericque — which  has  been  found  also  in  the  blood  of 
Helix,  and  in  that  of  the  Arthropods  Homarus  and  limulns. 
It  is  colourless  in  the  oxidized,  blue  in  the  deoxidized  state^ 
and  contains  copper  as  a  chemical  constituent. 

The  nephridial  sacs  ^cljenal  glandular  tissue  are  closely 
connected  ivith  the  branchial  advehent  vessels  in  Nautilus 
and  in  the  other  Siphonopoda.  The  arrangement  is  snch 
0^  to  render  the  typical  relations  and  form  of  a  nephridium 
difficult  to  trace.  In  accordance  with  the  metamerism  of 
Nautilus  already  noticed,  there  are  two  pairs  of  nephridia. 
Kach  nephridium  assumes  the  form  of  a  sac  opening  by  a 
pore  to  the  exterior.  As  is  usual  in  nephridia,  a  glandiilar 
and  a  non-glandular  portion  are  distinguished  in  each  sac ; 
these  portions,  however,  are  not  successive  parts  of  a  tube,  as 
happens  in  other  cases,  but  they  are  localised  are33  of  the  wall 
of  the  sac.  The  glandular  renal  tissue  is,  in  fact,  confined 
to  a  tract  extending  along  that  part  of  tho  sac's  wall  which 
immediately  invests  the  great  branchial  advehent  voin. 
The  vein  in  this  region  gives  off  directly  from  its  wall  a 
complete  herbage  of  little  venules,  which  branch  and  ana- 
stomose with  one  ar.other,  and  are  clothed  by  tho  glandular 
epithelium  of  the  nephridial  sac.  The  secretion  is  accumu- 
lated in  the  sac  and  passed  by  its  aperture  to  the  exterior. 
Probably  the  nitrogenous  excretory  product  is  very  rapidly 
discharged ;  in  Nautilus  a  pink-coloured  powder  is  found 
accumulated  in  the  nephridial  sacs,  consisting  of  calcium 
phosphate.  The  presence  of  this 
phosphatic  calculus  by  no  means 
proves  that  such  was  the  sole  ex- 
cretion of  the  renal  glandular  tis- 
sue. In  Nautilus  a  gLandtilar 
growth  like  that  rising  from  tho 
wall  of  the  branchial  vessel  into 
its  corresponding  nephridial  sac, 
but  larger  in  size,  depends  from 
each  branchial  advehent  vessel  into 
the  viscero-pericardial  sac, — prob- 
ably identical  with  the  "append- 
age" of  tho  branchial  hearts  of 
Dibranchs. 

The  chief  difference,  other  than 
that  of  number  between  tho  ne- 
phridia of  the  Dibranchs  and  those 
of  Nautilus,  is  the  absence  of  the 
accessory  growths  depending  into 
the  viscero-pericardial  space  just 
mentioned,  and,  of  more  import- 
ance, the  presence  in  the  former  of  p,„   n'— '«j 
a  pore  leading  from  the  nephridial    A'a«!iii«  ;)c« . 
sac  into  the  viscero-pericardial  sac    ^^lon'-ifiM^S^gementJjoa 
(v,  y'  in  fi-.'.  108).     The  external    nerves  passing  trom  tho  pcOoi 

'/!  r   ?•  1.   -J-  I  fanglion  to  the  inner soncs  of 

orinces   Ot    tno   nephridia  are    also     tentacles;  C,  nerves  to  the  ten- 

yiore  prominent  in  Dibranchs  than  Jj^- 1[  ^L°"^n°;„rpS 

in  Nautilus,  being  raised  on  iiapillaj  «,  cerebral  gtngUon.riir);  a, 

(np  in  fig.  108  ;  r  in  fig.  103).    In  &;S^ft,sT?SLi  ^/IS 

Sepia,  according  to  Vigelius  (38),  "'f?."^''"^;^"':^^'^"''*' 

tho    two    nephridU    give    off   each     nftl"olaij;evisceiul  nerve,  just 

a  diverticulmn  dorsalwards,  ^vhich    ^!i"-Si*„tSafili^'Sri^ 

unites  with   its   fellows   ai.-.d   forms     "S   nerves   from   tlio   pleond 

a  great  median  renal  chamber,  e^eiion  to  the  mantie-akirt. 
lying  between  the  ventral  portions  of  the  nephridia  and 
the  viscero-.  pericardial  chamber.      In   Loligo  the  fusion 


OEFBAXX>I>ODA.J 


MOLLUSCA 


679 


of  the  two  nepliridia  to  form  one  sac  ia  still  more  obvions, 
since  the  ventral  portiona  are  united.  In  Octopus  the 
nephridia  are  quite  separate. 

Tegumental  pores  have  not  been  described  in  Nautilus, 
but  exist  in  Dibranchiata,  and  have  been  (probably 
erroneously,  but  further  investigation  is  needed)  supposed 
to  introduce  water  into  the  vascular  system.     A  pair  of 


Fig.  113. 


Fig.  114. 


Fiaa  lis,  114.— Nerve^sentrta  of  Octopna,  Figon  118  givM  a  rltwtrma  the 
dOTWl  aspect,  flfore  114  one  from  the  ventnl  opect.  &u«,  the  buccal  maM ; 
jKd,  pedal  gan^on ;  opt,  optic  ganglion ;  oar,  cerebral  ganglion ;  p4  pleural 
ganglion  ;  piscj  Tteoeial  g«}gl]on  ;  as,  cesopbagna ;  /  foramen  In  the  nerre- 
D-..ias  formed  oj  pedal,  plenral,  and  vlscaiu  gangUou-paira,  traversed  by  a 
biood-TCs^el. 

such  pores  leading  into  sub-tegmnental  spaces  of  consider- 
able area,  the  nature  of  which  is  imperfectly  known,  erist 
on  the  back  of  the  head  in  Philonexis,  Tremoetopus,  and 
Argonauta.  At  the  base  of  the  arms  and  mouth  four  such 
pores  are  found  in  Histioteuthis  and  Ommastrephes,  six 
in  Sepia,  LoUgo,  Onychoteuthis.  Lastly,  a  pair  of  such 
pores  are  found  in  the 
Decapoda  at  the  base 
of  the  long  arms,  lead- 
ing into  tin  extensive 
sub -tegumental  pouch 
on  each  side  of  the  head 
into  which  .the  long 
arms  can  be,  and  usually 
are;  withdrawn.  In 
Sepia,  Sepiola,  and  Boa- 
sia  the  whole  arm  is 
coiled  up  in  these  sacs ; 
in  Loligo  only  ^  part 
of  it  is  so;  in  Histio- 
teuthis, Ommastrephes, 
and  Onychoteuthis,  the 
sacs  are  quite  small 
and  do  not  admit  the 
arm;!. 

Neroofus  System.  — 
Nautilus,  like  the  other  J^i 
Cephalopoda (e. jr.,  Pneu-  "^2^. 
modermon,  fig.  87 ; 
Octopus,  fig.  113),  ex- 
hibits a  great  concentra- 
tion of  the  typical  Mol- „     .,,    _^    ,  .      ,„  . 

,  1  ■  t  Fio-  116.— Lateral  view  of  the  nervotis  centres 

lUSCan  ganglia,  as  sno-vvn  and  nerves  of  the  right  side  of  OctopM  ml- 

in   fie.    112.      The   ean-  f"r<«(liomadrawingbyA.(J.Bom-ne).    Ij, 

.     o                   ,       JIM  buccal   ganglion;   cfr.,  cereoral  ganglion; 

glia  take  on  a  band-like  p^.,  pedal  ganglion  ;  pL,  pleural,  and  vix., 

fA*».    n*.^  «.u.  V..4.   i:4^t»  visceialregionofthepleuro-visceralcanglioa; 

form,  and  are  but  little  ,an,.  atlf,  the  right  steUdte  gangllSn  If  the 

differentiated  from  their  mantle  connected  by  a  nei-re  to  tho  ple'Jral 

J  portion  ;  nxisc.,  the  right  viacertil  nerve  ; 

commissures     ana     con-  «.»;/,   its   (probably)   olfactory   branches; 

nectives,  —  an    archaic    "•'^■'  "^  hrafchiai  branches. 
condition  reminding  us  of  Chiton.     The  special  optic  out- 
growth of  the  cerebral  ganglion,  the  optic  ganglion  (fig. 
112,  o),  ia   characteristic  of  the.  big-eyed  Siphonopoda. 
Hie  cerebral  ganglion-pair  (a)  lying  above  the  oesophagus 


is  connected  with  two  snb-cSSophageal  ganglion-pairs  of 
band-like  form.  The  anterior  of  these  is  the  pedal  6.  b, 
and  supplies  the  fore-foot  with  nerves  i,  t,  as  also  the 
mid-foot  (siphon).  The  hinder  band  is  the  visceral  and 
pleural  pair  fused  (compare  fig  112  with  fig.  87,  and 
especially  with  the  typiral  Euthynearons  nervous  system 
of  LinmEeus,  fig.  22) ;  from  its  pleural  portion  nerves  pass 
to  the  mantle,  from  its  visceral  portion  nerves  to  the 
branchiae  and  genital  ganglion  {d  ia  fig.  112),  and  in 
immediate  connexion  with  the  latter  is  a  nerve  to  the 
osphradium  or  olfactory  papilla.  No  buccal  ganglia  have 
been  observed  in  NautUus,  nor  has  an  enteric  nervous  system 
been  described  in  this  animal,  though  both  attain  a  special 
development  in  the  Dibranchiata,  The  figures  (114  and 
115)  representing  the  nerve-centres  ^ef  Octopus  serve  to 
exhibit  the  disposition  of  these  parts  in  the  Dibranchiata. 
The  ganglia  are  more  distinctly  sfvollen  than  in  Nautilus. 
In  Octopua  an  infra^buccal  gangUon-pair  are  present  cor- 
responding to  the  buccal  gangiion-pair  of  Gastropoda.  In 
Decapoda  a  supra-buccaj  ganglion-pair  connected  with 
these  are  also  developed.  Instead  of  the  numerous  radi- 
ating pallial  nerves  of  Nautilus,  we  have  in  the  Dibran- 
chiata on  each  side  (right  and  left)  a  large  pleural 
erve  passing  from  the  pleural  portion  of  the  pleuro- 
viscertd  ganglion  to  the  mantle,  where  it  enlarges  to 
form  the  steUate  ganglion.  From  each  stellate  ganglion 
nerves  radiate  to  supply  the  powerful  muscles  of  the 
mantle-skirt.  The  nerves  from  the  visceral  portion  of  the 
pleuro-visceral  ganglion  have  the  same  course  as  in  Nautilus, 
but  no  osphradial  papilla  ia  present.  An  enteric  nervous 
system  is  richly  developed  in  the  Dibranchiata,  connected 
with  the  somatic  nervous  centres  through  the  buccal 
ganglia,  as  in  the  Arthropoda  through  the  stomato-gastric 
ganglia,  and  anastomosing  with  deep  branches  of  the  vis- 
ceral nerves  of  the  viscero-pleural  ganglion-pair.  It  has 
been  especially  described  by  Hancock  (39)  in  Opun»- 
strephes.  Upon  the  stomach  it  forms  a  single  large  and 
readily-detected  gastric  ganglion.  It  is  questionable  as  to 
how  far  this  and  the  "  cava!  ganglion "  formed  in  some 
Decapoda  by  branches  of  the  visceral  nerves  which  accom- 
pany the  vena  cava  are  to  be  considered  as  the  equivalents 
of  tie  "abdominal  ganglion,"  which  in  a  typical  Gastropod 
nervous  system  lies  in  the  middle  of  the  visceral  nerve-loop 
or  commissure,  having  the  right  and  left  visceral  ganglia 
on  either  side  of  it,  separated  by  a  greater  or  less  length 
of  visceral  nerve-cord  (see  figs.  20,  21,  22).  There  can  be 
little  doubt  tliat  the.  enteric  nervous  system  is  much  more 
developed  in  the  Dibranchiata  than  in  other  MoUusca,  and 
that  it  effects  a  fusion  with  the  typical  ''  visccfal '.'  cords 
more  extensive  than  obtains  even  in  (Jastropoda,  where 
such  a  fusion  no  doubt  must  also  be  admitted. 

Special  Sense-Organs. — Nautilus  possesses  a  pair  of 
osphradial  papUlse  (fig.  101,  olf)  corresponding  in  position 
and  innervation  to  Spengel's  organ  placed  at  the  base  of  the 
ctenidia  (branchiae)  in  all  classes  of  MoUusca.  This  organ 
has  not  been  detected  in  other  Siphonopoda.  In  Ptero- 
poda  it  is  well  developed  as  a  single  ciliated  pit,  although 
the  ctenidia  are  in  that  group  aborted  (fig.  87,  Osp.). 
Nautilus  possesses  other  olfactory  organs  in  the  region 
of  the  head.  Just  below  the  eye  is  a  small  triangular 
process  (not  seen  in  our  figures),  ha^iag  the  structure  of  a 
shortened  and  highly-modified  tentacle  and  sheath.  By 
Valenciennes,  who  is  followed  by  Keferstein,  this  is  regarded 
as  an  olfactory  organ.  The  large  nerve  which  runs  to  this 
organ  originates  from  the  point  of  juncture  of  the  pedal 
with  the  optic  ganglion.  The  lamelliform  organ  upon  the 
inner  inferior  tentacular  lobe  of  Nautilus  is  possibly  also 
olfactory  in  function.  In  Dibranchs  behind  the  eye  is  e, 
pit  or  open  canal  supplied  by  a  nerve  corresponding  in 
origin  to  the  olfactory  nerve  of  Nautilus  above  mentioned. 


680 


MOLLUSCA 


[cephalopoda. 


Possibly  the  sense  of  taste  resides  In  certain  processes 
witbia  the  mouth  of  Nautilus  and  other  Siphonopoda. 


K      ^^^ 


1-^ 


%. 


the  pedal  portion  of  the  nerve^rentrvj.     6.  Lattral  view  "of  the 

laige  anterior  processes  are  sunk  in  the  muscular  anlistance  of  the  siphon. 

C.  Cephalic  cartilages  of  &pia  offxinalU.     D.  Nuchal  cartilage  ot  Sepia o^ici- 

nalis. 

The  otocysts  of  Nautilus  were  discovered  by  Macdonalc. 
(40).  Each  lies  at  the  side  of  the  head,  ventral  Oi 
the  eye,  resting  on  the  capito-pedal  cartilage,  and  supported 
by  the  largo  auditory 
nerve  which  arises 
from  the  pedal  gan-  ^^ 

glion.      It   has   the  ^' 

form  of  a  small  sac,  5;  ' 
1  to  2  mm.  in  dia-  /,  ^  * 
meter,  and  contains  "^1 
whetstone  -   shaped  'i 

crystals,  such  as  are       ^ 

known  to  form  the 
otolitha  of  other  Mol-  ^  . 

lusca.  The  otocysts 
of  Dibranchiata  are 
larger  and  deeply 
sunk  in  the  cephalic 

cartilage.         It      has  Fio.  117.— MInnta  stmcturo  of  the   cartilflBO  of 

been  shown  by  Lan-     I^"e<>  C™"?.  Gegenbaur   after  Furbnnger).    a, 

^  -r        J         simple,  6,  dividing,  cells ;  c,  canaliciui ;  a,  an 

kester   that   they  de-     emptycartilage  capsule  with  Jta  pores  ;  s,canali- 

velop   as    open   pits    '^'"' i°  »-=="™- 

(fig.  121,  (5),  (6),  o),  which  gi-adually  close  up,  the  com- 
munication with  the  exterior  becoming  narrowed  into  a 
fine  canal,  which  is  reflected  over  one  end  of  the  sac,  and 
finally  has  its  external  opening  obliterated.  A  single 
otolith  only  Ls  found  in  all  Dibranchiata. 

The  eye  of  Nautilus  is  among  the  most  interesting  struc- 
tia-es  of  that  remarkable  animal.  No  other  animal  which 
has  the  same  bulk  and  general  elaboration  of  organization 
has  so  simple  an  eye  as  that  of  Nautilus.  When  looked 
at  from  the  sui-face  no  metallic  lustre,  no  transparent 
coverings,  are  presented  by  it.  It  is  simply  a  .slightly  pro- 
jecting hemispherical  box  like  a  kettle-drum,  half  an  inch 
in  diameter,  its  surface  looking  like  that  of  the  surrounding 
integument,  whilst  in  the  middle  of  the  drum-membrane  is 
a  minute  hole  (fig.  91,  u).  Owen  very  naturally  thought 
that  some  membrane  had  covered  this  hole  in  Ufo,  and  had 
been  ruptured  in  the  specimen  studied  by  him.  "It,  how- 
ever, appears  from  the  researches  of  Ileusen  (41)  that  the 
hole  is  a  normal  aperture  leading  into  the  globe  of  the  eye, 
(which  is  accordingly  filled  by  sea-water  during  life.  There 
is  no  dioptric  apparatus  in  Nautilus,  and  in  place  of  refract- 
iag  lens  and  cornea  "we  have  actually  hero  an  arrangement 
for  forming  an  image  on  the  principle  of  "the  pin-hole 
camera."  There  is  no  other  eye  known  in  the  whole  animal 
kingdom  which  is  90  constructed.     The  Vr'alJ  of  the  eye- 


globe  is  tough,  and  the  cavity  is  lined  solely  by  the  naked 
retina,  which  is  bathed  by  sea-water  on  one  surface  and 
receives  the  fibres  of  the  optic  nerve  on  the  other  (see  fig. 
118,  A).  As  in  other  Siphonopods  (e.g.,  fig.  120,  Ei,  Re, 
p),  the  retina  consists  of  two  layers  of  cells  separated  by  a 
layer  of  dark  pigment  The  most  interesting  consideration 
connected  with  this  eye  of  Nautilus  is  found  when  the 
further  facts  are  noted — (1)  that  the  elaborate  lens-bearing 
eyes  of  Dibranchiata  pass  through  a  stage  of  development 
in  which  they  have  the  same  structm'e  as  the  eye  of  Nautilus 
— namely,  are  open  sacs  (fig.  119);  and  (2),  that  amongst 
other  MoUusca  examples  of  cephalic  eyes  can  be  found  which 
in  the  adult  condition  are,  like  the  eye  of  Nautilus  and  the 
developing  eye  of  Dibranchs,  simple  pits  of  the  integument, 
the  cells  of  which  are  surrounded  by  pigment  and  connected 
with  the  filaments  of  an  optic  nerve.     Such  is  the  structuro 

C        Z'     . 


Far      ^ 


Co  ep 


Co    \ 


)<^  -CS^s-     ^'"  r., 


A     M 


G.op 


^  cp 


Pio.  118.— 1 
Patella). 

(Oigopsid).  /"ai,  eyelid  (outermost  fold) ;  Co,  cornea  (second  fold) ;  /r,  ' 
(third  fold) :  /ji(l,  2,  3,  4,  different  parts  of  the  integument ;  I,  deep  portion 
of  the  lens;  J-,  outer  portion  of  the  lens;  Co.cp,  ciliary  body;  Jt,  retina; 
N.trpy  optic  nerve  ;  Cop,  optic  ganglion ;  x,  inner  layer  of  the  retiiia ;  if.5, 
nervoua  stratum  of  the  retina.    (From  Balfour,  after  Grenacher.) 

of  the  eye  of  the  Limpet  (Patella) ;  and  in  such  a  simple  eye 
we  obtain  the  clearest  demonstration  of  the  fact  that  the 
retina  of  the  Molluscan  cephalic  eye,  like  that  of  the 
Arthropod  cephaUc  eye  and  unlike  that  of  the  Vertebrate 
myelonic  eye,  b  essentially  a  modified  area  of  the  general 
epiderm,  and  that  the  sensitiveness  of  its  cells  to  the  action 
of  light  and  their  relation  to  nerve-filaments  is  only  a 
specialization  and  intensifying  of  a  property  common  to  the 
whole  epiderm  of  the  surface  of  the  body.  "What,  however, 
strikes  us  as  especially  reniarknble  is  that  the  simple  form 
of  a  pit,  which  in  Patella  serv.-i  to  accumulate  a  secretion 
which  acts  as  a  refractive  body,  should  in  Nautilus  be 
glorified  and  raised  to  the  dignity  of  an  efficient  optical 
apparatus.  Natural  selection  has  had  an  altogether  excep- 
tional opportunity  in  the  ancestors  of  Nautilus.  In  all  other 
MoUusca,  starting  as  we  may  suppose  from  the  foUicular  or 
pit^Uke  condition,  the  eye  has  proceeded  to  acquire  the  form 
of  a  dosed  sac,  the  cavity  of  the  closed  vesicle  being  then 
filled  partially  or  completely  by  a  refractive  body  (lens) 
secreted  by  its  walls  (fig.  118,  B).  This  is  the  condition 
attained  in  most  Gastropoda.  It  presents  a  striking  contrast 
to  the  simple  Ai'thropod  eye,  where,  in  consequence  of  the 
existence  of  a  dense  exterior  cuticle,  the  eye  does  not  fonn 
a  vesicle,  and  the  lens  is  always  part  of  that  cuticle. 

In  the  Dibranchiate  division  of  the  Siphonopoda  the 
greatest  elaboration  of  the  dioptric  apparatus  of  the  eye 
is  attained,  so  that  we  have  in  one  sul>-class  the  extremea 
of  the  two  lines  of  development  of  the  Molluscan  eye,  those' 
two  lines  being  the  punctigerous  and  the  lentigerous.  The 
structure  of  the  Dibranchiate's  eye  is  shown  in  section  in  figJ 
118,  C,  and  in  fig.  120,  and  its  development  in  fig.  1 19  and 
fig.  123.  The  open  sac  which  forms  the  retina  of  the  young 
Dibranchiate  closes  up,  and  constitutes  the  posterior  ehambei! 
of  the  eye,  or  primitive  optic  vesicle  (fig.  123,  h^jioi:).    The 


CKPHAIXjroDA.] 


3I0LLUSCA 


681 


lens  forms  as  a  stractureless  growth,  projecting  inwards  from 
the  front  -wall  of  this  vesicle  (fig.  1 23,  B,  I).  The  integument 
around  the  primitive  optic  vesicle  which  has  sunk  below 

A 


Pro.  119. — Diagrams  of  scotioni  thowicg  the  early  stage  of  development  6f  Mi« 
eye  of  Loljgo  when  It  is,  like  the  permanent  eye  of  Nautilus  and  of  Patella, 
an  open  sac.  A.  First  appearance  of  the  eye  as  a  ring-like  upgrowth.  B. 
Ingrowth  of  the  ring-like  wall  so  as  to  form  a  sac,  the  priiuitiTe  optic  vesicle 
of  Loligo.    (From  Laiikester.* 

the  surface  now  rises  up  and  forms  firstly  nearest  the  axis 
of  the  eye  the  iridian  folds  (if  in  B,  fig.  123  ;  ik  in  fig.  120  ; 
Tr  in  fig.  118),  and  then  secondly  an  outer  circular  fold 
grows  up  like  a  wall  and  completely  closes  over  the  iridian 
folds  and  the  axis  of  the  primitive  vesicle  (fig.  120,  C). 
This  covering  is  transparent,  and  is  the  cornea.  In  the 
oceanic  Decapoda  the  cornea  does  not  completely  close, 
but  leaves  a  central  aperture  traversed  by  the  optic  axis. 
These  forms  are  termed  Oigopsid£e  by  d'Orbigny  (43),  whilst 
the  Decapoda  ■n-ith  closed  cornea  are  termed  Myopsidse. 
In  the  Octopoda  the  cornea  is  closed,  and  there  is  yet 
another  fold  thrown  over  the  eye.  The  skin  surrounding 
the  cornea  presents  a  free  circular  margin,  and  can  be  drawn 
over  the  surface  of  the  cornea  by  a  sphincter  muscle.  It 
thoa  acts  as  an  adjustable  diaphragm,  exactly  similar  in 


Fio.  120.— HoTliont«l  section  of  the  eye  of  .Sepia  (Ilyopsid).  KK,  cephalic 
cartilages  (see  flg.  116) ;  C,  cornea  (closed) ;  i,  Ions  ;  ci,  ciliary  body ;  J?( 
internal  layer  of  the  retina ;  J!e.  oitemal  layer  of  the  retina ;  p,  pigment 
between  these ;  o,  optic  nerve ;  170,  optic  ganglion  ;  t  and  .'-■',  cap.iular  cartilage  ■ 
It,  cartilage  of  the  iris ;  to,  white  body ;  m,  argtrntiiie  Inlegament.  (Fi-om 
Gegenbanr,  after  Hensen.) 

movement  to  the  iris  of  Vertebrates.  Sepia  and  allied  Deca- 
pods have  a  horizontal  lower  eyelid,  that  is  to  say,  only 
one-half  of  the  sphincter-like  fold  of  integument  is  movable. 
The  exact  history  of  the  later  growth  of  the  lens  in  the 
Dibranchs'  eye  is  not  clear.  As  seen  in  fig.  120,  it  appears, 
after  attaining  a  certain  size,  to  push  through  the  front 
wall  of  the  primitive  optic  vesicle  at  the  point  correspond- 
ing to  its  centre  of  closure,  and  to  project  a  little  into  the 
anterior  chamber  formed  by  the  cornea.     The  wall  of  the 


primitive  optic  vesicle  adjacent  to  the  embedded  lens  (L) 
now  becomes  modified,  forming  a  so-called  "ciliary  body,;' 
in  which  muscular  tissue  is  present,  serving  to  regulate  tlw 
focus  of  the  lens  (ci  in  fig.  120).  Bobretzky  (43)  differs 
from  Lankester,  whose  view  is  above  given,  in  assigning  a 
distinct  origin  to  the  protruding  anterior  segment  of  the 
lens  (l'-  in  fig.  118).  The  optic  ganghon,  as  well  as  the 
other  large  ganglia  of  the  Dibranchiata,  originate  in  the 
mesoblast  of  the  embryo.  The  connexion  between  the  cells 
of  the  retina  and  the  nerve-fibres  proceeding  from  the  optic 
ganglion  must  therefore  be  a  secondary  one. 

Chromatopkores. — In  Nautilus  these  remarkable  struc- 
tures, which  we  mention  here  as  being  intimately  asso- 
ciated with  the  nervous  system,  appear  to  be  absent.  In 
Dibranchiata  they  play  an  important  part  in  the  economy, 
enabling  their  possessor,  in  conjunction  with  the  discharge 
of  the  contents  of  the  ink-bag,  to  elude  the  observation  of 
either  prey  or  foe.  They  consist  of  large  vesicular  cells 
(true  nucleated  cells  converted  into  vesicles),  arranged  in 
a  layer  immediately  below  the  epidermis.  Each  chronia- 
tophore-cell  has  from  six  to  ten  muscular  bands  attached 
to  its  walls,  radiating  from  it  star-wise.  The  contraction 
of  these  fibres  causes  the  chromatophore-cell  to  widen 
out ;  it  returns  to  its  spherical  resting  state  by  its  owTi 
elasticity.  In  the  spherical  resting  state  such  a  cell  may 
measure  '01  mm.,  whilst  when  fully  stretched  by  its  radiat- 
ing muscles  it  covers  an  area  of  '5  mm.  The  substance 
of  the  chromatophore-cells  is  intensely  coloured  with  one 
of  the  following  colours — scarlet,  yellow,  blue,  brown — 
which  are  usually  of  the  greatest  purity  and  brilliance.  The 
action  of  the  chromatophores  may  bft  Wfttched  most  readily 
in  young  Loligo,  either  under  the  microscope  or  with  the 
naked  eye.  The  chromatophores  are  suddenly  expanded, 
and  more  slowly  retracted  with  rapidly-recurring  alter- 
nation. All  the  blue,  or  all  the  red,  or  all  the  yellow 
may  be  expanded  and  the  other  colours  left  quiescent. 
Thus  the  animal  can  assume  any  particular  hue,  and 
change  its  appearance  in  a  dazzling  way  with  extraordinary 
rapidity.  There  is  a  definite  adaptation  of  the  colour 
assumed  in  the  case  of  Sepia  and  others  to  the  colour  of 
the  surrounding  rock  and  bottom. 

Gctiads  and  Genital  Ducts. — In  Nautilus  it  has  recently 
been  shown  by  Lankester  and  Bourne  (37)  that  the  genital 
ducts  of  both  sexes  are  paired  right  and  left,  the  left  duct 
being  rudimentary  and  forming  the  "  pyriform  appendage," 
described  by  Owen  as  adhering  by  membranous  attach- 
ment to  the  ventricle  of  the  heart,  and  shown  by  Kefer- 
stein  to  communicate  by  a  pore  with  the  exterior.  Thus 
the  Cephalopoda  agree  with  our  archi-Mollusc  in  having 
bilaterally  symmetrical  genital  ducts  in  the  case  of  the 
most  archaic  member  of  the  class.  The  ovary  (female 
gonad)  or  the.  testis  (male  gonad)  lies  in  Nautilus  as  in 
the  Dibranchs  in  a  distinct  cavity  walled  ofif  from  the 
other  viscera,  near  the  centro-dorsal  region.  This  chamber 
is  formed  by  the  ccelomic  or  peritoneal  wall;  the  space 
enclosed  is  originally  part  of  the  coelom,  and  in  Sepia 
and  Loligo  is,  in  the  adult,  part  of  the  viscero-pericardial 
chamber.  In  Octopus  it  is  this  genital  chamber  which 
communicates  by  a  right  and  a  left  canal  with  the  nephrid- 
ium,  and  is  the  only  representative  of  pericardium.  The 
ovary  or  testis  is  itself  a  growth  from  the  inner  wall  of  this 
chamber,  which  it  only  partly  fills.  In  Nautilus  the  right 
genital  duct,  v/hich  is  functional,  is  a  simple  continuation 
to  the  pore  on  the  postero-dorsal  surface  of  the  membran- 
ous walls  of  the  capsule  in  which  lies  the  ovary  or  the 
testis,  as  the  case  may  be.  The  gonad  itself  appeara  to 
represent  a  single  median  or  bilateral  organ. 

The  true  morphological  nature  of  the  genital  ducts  of  the 
Cephalopoda  and  of  other  Mollusca  is  a  subject  which  invites 
speculation  and  inquiry.     In  all  the  cases  in  which  such 
XVL  —  86 


882 


M  O  L  L  U  S  C  A 


[cRPHAiOPODA. 


ducts  continuous  with  the  tunic  of  the  gonad  itself  occur — 
viz.,  in  Nematoid  worms,  in  Arthropoda,  and  in  Teleostean 
fiKhes,  besides  Molluscii — there  is  an  absence  of  definite 
knowledge  as  to  the  mode  of  development  of  the  duct. 
It  seems,  however,  from  such  facts  as  have  been  ascer- 
tained that  the  gonad  lies  at  first  freely  in  the  coelom, 
and  that  the  duct  develops  in  connexion  with  the  genital 
note,  and  attaches  itself  to  the  embryonic  gonad,  or  to  the 
capsule  which  grows  around  it.  Tha  question  then  arises 
as  to  the  nature  of  the  pore.  In  other  groups  of  animals 
we  find  that  the  pore,  and  funnel  or  tube  connected  with 
it  by  which  the  genital  products  are  conveyed  to  the 
exterior,  is  a  modified  ncphridium  (usually  a  pair,  one 
right  and  one  left).  Is  it  possible  that  this  is  also  the 
case  where  the  duct  very  early  becomes  united  to  the 
gonad,  and  even  gives  rise  to  the  appearance  of  a  tubular 
ovary  or  testis  1  Probably  this  is  the  case  in  Teleostean 
fishes  (see  Huxley's  observations  on  the  oviducts  of  the 
amelt,  44) ;  but  it  seems  to  be  a  tenable  position  that  in  other 
cases,  including  the  MoUusca,  the  genital  pore  is  a  simple 
opening  in  the  body-wall  leading  into  the  body-cavity 
or  coelom,  such  as  we  find  on  the  dorsal  surface  of  the 
earth-worm,  which  has  become  specialized  for  the  extrusion 
of  the  genital  products.  Possibly,  as  in  Nemertine  and 
Chsetopod  worms,  the  condition  preceding  the  development 
of  these  definite  genital  pores  was  one  in  which  a  temporary 
rapture  of  the  body-wall  occurred  at  the  breeding  season, 
and  this  temporary  aperture  has  gradually  become  perma- 
nent. The  absence  of  genital  pores  in  Patella,  and  some 
Lamellibranchs  which  make  use  of  the  nephridia  for  the 
extrusion  of  their  genital  products,  suggests  that  the  very 
earliest  Mollusca  or  their  forefathers  were  devoid  of  genital 
ducts  and  pores.  In  no  MoUusca,  however,  is  the  nephrid- 
ium  used  in  the  same  way  as  a  genital  duct  as  it  is  in  the 
Chastopoda,  the  GephjTaea,  and  the  Vertebrata ;  for  the 
open  mouth  of  the  nuphridium  in  Mollusca  leads  into  the 
pericardial  space,  and  it  is  not  through  this  space  and  this 
mouth  that  the  genital  products  of  any  Mollusca  enter 
the  nephridiuni  (except  perhaps  in  Neomenia),  although 
it  is  by  this  mouth  that  the  genital  products  enter  the 
nephridium  in  the  former  ■  classes  above  named.  Hence 
the  arrangement  in  Patella,  &c.,  is  to  be  looked,  upon  as  a 
special  development  from  the  simpler  condition  when  the 
Mollusca  brought  forth  by  rupture  (  =  schizodinic,  from  wSi's, 
travail),  and  not  as  derived  from  the  common  arrangement 
of  adaptation  of  a  nephridium  to  the  genital  efTcrent  func- 
tion ( =  nephrodinic).' 

The  functional  oviduct  of  Nautilus  fo;-ms  an  albumini- 
parous  gland  as  a  diverticulum,  which  appears  to  corre- 
spond to  a  dilatation  in  the  male  duct,  which  succeeds  the 
testis  itself,  and  is  called  the  "accessory  gland."  The  male 
duct  has  c  second  dilatation  (Needham's  sac),  and  then  is 
produced  in  the  form  of  a  large  papUla.  In  Dibranchs 
the  genital  ducts  are  but  little  more  elaborated.  They  are 
ciliated  internally.  In  female  Octopoda,  in  Omraastrephes, 
and  in  one  male  Octopod  [EUdoiie  moschata)  the  genital 
ducts  are  paired,  opening  right  and  left  of  the  anus.  But 
in  all  other  Dibranchs  a  single  genital  duct  only  is  deve- 
loped, viz.,  that  of  the  left  side,  and  leads  from  the  genital 
capsule  or  chamber  of  the  gonad  to  an  asymmetrically-placed 
pore.  In  the  male  Dibranchs  the  genital  duct  is  coiled 
and  provided  with  a  series  of  glandular  dilatations  and 


*  Cffilomate  animnls  are,  acconiing  to  this  nomenclature,  either 
Schizodinic  or  Porodinic  The  Porodinic  group  is  divisible  into  Ne- 
phrodinic  and  Idiodinic,  in  tlio  former  the  nephridium  serving  as  n 
pore,  in  the  latter  a  fipeci.al  (fSioj)  pore  being  developed.  In  each  of 
those  latter  groups  the  pore  may  be — (1)  devoid  of  a  duct,  (2)  provided 
»iLh  a  duct  which  is  unattached  to  the  gonad  and  opens  into  the  body- 
CRvity,  (3)  provided  with  a  duct  which  fuses  with  the  gonad.  Tlio 
genital  ducts  of  Idiodinic  forms  may  be  called  Idiogonaducts,  as  dis- 
Ifaiguisbed  £ro&  the  Nephrogonaductt  of  nephrodiiiic  forms. 


receptacles.  These  are  connected  with  the  formation  of 
the  Bpermatophores.  In  the  Siphonopoda  the  spermatic 
fluid  does  not  flow  as  a  liquid  from  the  genital  pore,  but 
the  spermatozoa  are  made  up  into  little  packets  before 
extrusion.  In  other  Mollusca  (Pulmonata)  and  in  oiher 
animals  (Chsetopoda)  this  formation  of  "  sperm-ropes  "  is 
known,  but  in  the  Siphonopoda  it  attains  its  highest 
development.  Exceedingly  complicated  structures  of  a. 
cylindrical  form  (sometimes  an  inch  in  length)  are  foimed 
in  the  male  genital  duct  by  a  secretion  which  embeds  and 
cements  together  the  spermatozoa.  They  are  formed  in 
Nautilus  as  well  as  in  Dibranchs,  the  actual  manner  in  which 
their  complicated  structure  is  produced  being  not  easily  con- 
jectured. Accessory  glands  not  forming  part  of  the  oviduct, 
but  furnishing  the  material  for  enclosing  the  eggs  in  an  elastic 
envelope,  are  found  as  paired  structures,  opening  soma  way 
behind  the  anus  in  Nautilus  (101,  ff.n.)  and  in  the  Di- 
branchs. They  are  known  as  the  nidamental  glands.  In 
the  female  Sepia  they  are  particularly  large  and  prominent, 
and  are  accompanied  by  a  second  smaller  pair. 

Rejrroductimi  and  Develojmieni. — The  details  of  sexual 
congress  and  of  the  actual  fertilization  of  the  egg  are  quite 
unknown  in  Nautilus,  and  imperfectly  in  the  Dibranchs 
and  the  Pteropoda.  Allusion  has  already  been  made  to 
the  subject  in  connexion  with  the  hectocotylized  arm.  The 
mature  eggs  of  Nautilus  are  unknown,  as  well  as  the  appear- 
ance which  they  present  when  deposited.  In  the  Dibranchs 
the  eggs  are  always  very  large  ;  in  some  cases  the  amount 
of  food-yelk  infused  into  the  original  egg-cell  is  so  great  aa 
to  give  it  the  size  of  a  large  pea.  This  results  in  that 
mode  of  development  which  is  only  known  outside  this 
class  among  the  Vertebrata  ;  it  is  discoblastic.  The  proto- 
plasm of  the  fertilized  egg-cell  segregates  to  one  pole  of 
the  egg,  and  there  undergoes  cell-division,  resulting  in  the 
foi-mation  of  a  disc  of  cleavage  cells  (fig.  121,  (1))  resem- 
bling the  cicatricula  of  the  hen's  egg,  which  subsequently 
spreads  over  and  invests  the  whole  egg  (fig.  121,  (2)).-  For 
details  of  this  process  we  must  refer  the  reader  to  other 
works  (45,  46) ;  but  it  may  here  be  noted  that  in  addition  to 
the  layer  of  cleavage  cells,  v;hich  consists  of  more  than  one 
stratum  of  cells  in  the  future  embrj'onic  area  as  opposed 
to  the  yelk-sac  area,  additional  cells  are  formed  in  the 
mass  of  residual  yelk  apparently  by  an  independent  process 
of  segregation,  each  cell  having  a  separate  origin,  whence 
they  are  termed  "autoplasts."  The  autoplasts  eventually 
form  a  layer  of  fusiform  c^s  (fig.  121,  (7),  h;  fig.  122,  m; 
and  fig.  123,  ps), — the  "yelk-membrane"  which  everywhere 
rests  upon  and  encloses  the  residual  yelk.  The  cleavage 
cells  form  a  single  layer  on  the  yelk-sac  area  and  two  layers 
on  the  embryonic  area,  an  outer  layer  one  cell  deep  (fig.  122, 
ep),  and  an  inner — tiie  middle  layer  of  t!ie  three — wluch 
is  often  thick  and  many  cells  deep  (fig.  122,  m).  There  is 
great  difficulty  here  in  identifying  the  layers  with  the  three 
typical  layers  of  other  animal  embryos,  except  in  regard 
to  the  outermost,  which  corresponds  with  the  epiblast  of 
Vertebrates  in  many  respects.  The  middle  layer,  howe\'er, 
gives  rise  to  the  nerve-ganglia  as  well  as  to  the  muscles, 
coelom,  and  skeleto-trophic  tissues,  and  to  the  mid-portion 
of  the  alimentary  canal  with  its  hepatic  diverticula,  the 
liver  (see  fig.  121,  (7)  and  explanation,  where  the  origin  of 
the  mid-gut  as  a  vesicle  r  is  seen).  It  is  clearly,  therefore, 
something  more  than  the  mesoblast  of  the  Vertebrate, 
giving  rise,  as  it  does,  to  important  organs  formed  both  by 
epiblast  and  hypoblast  in  other  animals.  Lastly,  the  yelk- 
meifibrane,  though  corresponding  to  the  Vertebrate  hypo- 
blast in  position  and  structure,  furnishes  no  part  of  the 
alimentary  tract,  but  di.sappears  when  the  yelk  is  com- 
pletely absorbed.  In  fact,  the  developmental  phenomena 
in  Sepia,  Loligo,  and  Octopus  are  profoundly  perturbed  by 
>the  excessive  ijroportion  of  food-yelk.     Balfour  has  shown 


OEFBJXOPODA.] 

that  in  the  chick  the  orifice  o£  closure  of  the  overspreading 
blastoderm  does  not  represent  the  whole  of  the  blastopore, 


MOLLUSCA 


683 


a  structure  corresponding  to  the  primitive  streak  of  the 
chick,  and  lying  near  the  klastic  pole,  will  be  found  in 
Sepia  and  Loligo,  and  the  strange  vesicular  origin  of  the 
mid-gut  will  be  traced  to  and  explained  by  it. 

Leaving  this  difficult  question  of  the  cell-layers  of  the 
embryo,  we  would  draw  the  reader's  attention  to  the  series 
of  sketches  representing  the  semi-transparent  embryo  of 
Loligo,  drawn  in  fig.  121.  When  the  cleavage  cells  have 
nearly  enclosed  the  yelk,  the  upper  or  embryonic  area 
shows  the  rudiments  of  the  centro-dorsal  mantle-sac  or 
pen-sac,  the  mouth,  the  paired  optic  pits,  and  the  paired 


Via.  Wl.— Development  of  Loligo.  0)  View  of  the  cleaTuge  of  tic  egg  during 
■the  first  formation  of  embryonic  cells.  (2)  lateral  view  of  the  egg  at  a  little 
later  stage,  a,  limit  to  which  the  layer  of  cleavage.oeUa  has  spread  over  the 
egg;  t>,portion  of  the  egg(sb3ded)a8yet  tincovered  byclea^'age-cells;  a;>,  the 
aotoplaata  ;  kp,  cleavage-pole  where  £f5t  cells  wen  formed.  (3)  Later  stage, 
the  hmjt  a  now  extended  so  as  to  Jeave  but  little  of  the  egg'aur&ce  lb)  onen- 
dosed.  Thoeyes(dX  mouthC^X  and  mantle-sac(u)haveappefind.  f4)  Later 
ftage,  anterior  sorface,  the  embryo  is  becoming  nipped  off  from  the  yelk 
•ac  (JX  (5)  View  of  an  embryo  similar  to  (3)  from  the  cleavagc-pcle  or 
eentro-dorsal  ar^a.  (6)  Later  stage,  posterior  sorface.  (7)  Section  in  a 
median  dorso-ventral  and  autero-posterior  plane  of  an  embryo  of  the  same 
■ge  as  (4).  (8)  View  of  the  anterior  face  of  an  older  embrytx  (B>  View  cf  the 
posterior  face  of  an  embryo  of  the  same  age  as  (8X  Letters  in  (3)  to  (9) : — a, 
lateral  fins  of  the  mantle ;  h,  mantle-skirt ;  c,  supra-ocular  invagination  to 
form.tbe  "  white  body  "  ;  d,  the  eye  ;  e,  the  month  ;  /i,  »,  5,  *,  8,  the  five  paired 
processes  of  the  fore-foot ;  g,  rhythmically  contractile  area  of  the  yeUt-sac, 
which  is  itself  a  hemia-like  protnision  of  the  median  portion  of  the  fore-foot 
(see  fig.  72*');  h,  dotted  line  showing  internal  area  occupied  by  yelk  (food- 
material  of  the  egg) ;  k,  first  rudiment  of  the  mid-foot  (paired  ridges  which 
onite  to  form  the  siphon  or  fUnnel) ;  I,  sac  of  the  radula  or  lingual  ribbon  ; 
m,  stomach  ;  n,  rudiments  of  the  gills  (paired  ctenidia) ;  o,  the  otocysts. — a 
pair  of  invaginations  of  the  surface  of  the  raid-foot ;  J>,  the  optic  ganglion ; 
a,  the  distal  portion  of  the  ridges  which  fonn  the  siphon  or  mid-foot,  k  being 
the  basal  portion  of  the  same  structure;  r,  thevesicle-liice  rudimentofthe  in- 
testine formed  independently  of  the  parts  connected  with  the  mouth,  s,  ?:,  m, 
«nd  without  Invagination ;  s,  rudiment  of  the  salivary  glands ;  t  in  (7X  the 
Bhell-eac  at  an  earlier  stage  open  (see  Hg.  13SX  now  closed  up;  u,  the  open 
<hell-sac  formed  by  an  uprising  ring-like  growth  of  the  centro-dorsal  area ; 
V  in  (5),  the  mantle-skirt  commencing  to  be  raised  up  around  the  area  of  the 
diell-sac.  In  (7)  mes  points  to  the  middle  cell-layer  of  the  embryo,  ep  to  the 
outer  layer,  and  h  to  the  deep  layer  of  fusiform  cells  which  separates  every- 
where the  embryo  flrom  the  yelk  or  food-material  lying  within  it,   (Original.) 

h«it  that  this  is  in  part  to  be  sought  in  the  vridely-separated 
primitive  streak.     The  present  writer  has  little  doubt  that 


Fin.  122.— Section  through  the  still  open  shell-sac  occupying  the  centro-dorsal 
area  of  an  embryo  of  L/>liso ;  the  position  is  inverted  as  compared  with  fig. 
121  (3)  and  (7).  ep,  outer  ccll-hiyer ;  <,t,  middle  cell-layer ;  m'.  deep  cell- 
layer  of  fusiform  coUs  ;  y,  the  granular  yelk  or  food-material  of  the  egg ; 
ths,  the  still  open  sUeU-sac    (Proui  Lankcster.) 

Otic  pits  (fij.  121,  (3),  (5)).  The  eye-pits  close  -up  (fig. 
119),  the  orifice  of  the  mantle-sac  narrows,  and  its  margin 
becomes  raised  and  freely  produced  as  mantle-skirt ; 
at  the  same  time  an  hour-glass-like  pinching  in  of  the 
whole  embryo  commences,  separating  the  embryo  proper 
from  the  so-called  yelk-sac  (fig.  121,  (4)).  Around  the 
"  waist "  of  constriction,  pair  by  pair,  ten  lobes  arise  (fig. 
121,  (8)  ), — the  arms  of  the  fore-foot.  It  now  becomes 
obviou.3  that  the  yelk-sac  is  but  the  median  surface  of  the 
fore-foot  bulged  out  inordinately  by  food-yelk,  just  a3  the 
hind  region  of  the  foot  is  in  the  embryo  slug  (see  fig.  72**, 
and  ex-planation).  Just  as  in  the  slug,  this  dilated  y(jjk- 
holding  foot  is  rhythmically  contractile,  and  pulsates 
steadily  over  the  area  ff  in  fig.  121,  (■!).  At  this  stage, 
and  long  subsequently,  the  mouth  of  the  young  Cephalopod 
is  in  no  way  surrounded  by  the  fore-foot,  but  lies  ^vell 
above  its  nascent  lobes  (e  in  fig.  121).  Subsequently  it 
sinlcs,  as  it  were,  between  the  right  and  left  most  anterior 
pair  of  the  series,  which  grow  towards  one  another  and 
fuse  above  it,  and  leave  no  trace  of  their  original  position 
and  relations.  Fig.  121,  (6)  gives  a  view  of  the  postero- 
dorsal  surface  of  an  embryo,  in  which  the  important  fact 
is  seen  of  the  formation  of  the  funnel  or  siphon  by  the 
union  of  two  pieces  (q),  which  grow  up  each  independently, 
one  right  and  one  left,  like  the  sides  of  the  siphon  of 
Nautilus  or  the  sv/imming  lobes  of  a  Pteropod,  and  subse- 
quently come  together,  as  shown  in  (9),  where  the  same 
letter  9  indicate.s  the  same  part.  The  explanations  of  figs. 
121  and  123  are  given  very  full  and  here,  therefore,  we 
shall  only  allude  to  two  additional  points.  A  curious  mass 
of  tissue  of  unknown  significance  occurs  in  the  orbit  of 
Dibranchs,  known  as  the  white  body  (iv  in  fig.  120).  A 
strongly-marked  invagination  just  above  the  orbit  is  a  very 
prominent  feativre  in  the  embryo  of  Loligo,  Sepia,  and 
Octopus,  and  appears  to  give  rise  to  this  so-called  white 
body.  This  invaginated  portion  of  the  outer  cell-layer  is 
seen  in  fig.  121,  (8)  and  (9),  lettered  c;  in  fig.  123,  A  and 
B,  it  is  lettered  vjb. 

Lastly,  in  fig.  123,  A,  the  origin  of  the  optic  neiY;:- 
ganglion  r^  from  the  cells  of  the  middle  layer  shouli'.  b? 
especially  noticed.  In  some  other  Molluscs  the  ner'O- 
ganglia  have  been  definitely  traced  to  the  outer  cell-layer, 


B84 


MOLLUSCA 


[LiilELLMEANCULi. 


Tpl'.ilst  in  some  Gastropods,  according  to  Bobretzky,  tliey 
ori!:^nate,  as  here  sliown,  for  Loligo. 

The  egg-coverings  of  the  Dibranchiate  are  very  complete. 
Argonauta  and  Octopus  deposit  each  egg  in  a  firm  oval 
ca.  [',  thin  and  transparent,  which  has  a  long  stalli  by 
-which  (in  Octopus)  tlie  egg  is  fixed  in  company  with  two 
or  three  hundred  others  to  some  foreign  object.  Sepia 
encloses  each  egg  in  a  thick  envelope  of  many  layers 
resembling  india-rubber.  Loligo  encloses  many  rows  of 
eggs  in  a  copious  tough  jelly,  and  affixes  a  dozen  or  twenty 
such  egg-strings  to  one  spot.  Sepia  and  Loligo  desert 
their  eggs  when  laid.     The  female  Octopus  most  jealously 


Tlo.  123.— Right  and  left  sections  through  erat  yos  of  Loligo.  A.  Same  stage 
as  flg.  121  (4).  B.  Same  stage  as  lig.  121  (S) ;  only  the  left  side  of  the  sections 
is  drawn,  and  the  food-material  wliich  occupies  the  space  internal  to  the 
memhrane  ym  is  omitted,  at,  rccluni ;  is,  inl;-sac ;  cp,  outer  cell-layer ;  mej, 
\nicMle  cell-layer;  i/ni,  deep  cell-layer  of  fusiform  cel]^  (yellt-memljrane) ;  ng, 
optic  neiTCganglion ;  ot,  otocyst ;  «'6,  the  "  white  body  "  of  the  adult  oc  Jar 
capsule  forming  as  an  invagination  of  tlie  outer  cell-layer ;  mtf,  mantle-skirt ; 
g,  gill ;  ps,  pen--iac  or  shell-sac,  now  closed  ;  dg,  dorsal  groove  ;  poc,  primitive 
optic  vesicle,  now  closed  (see  llg.  110);  /,  lens ;  r,  retina ;  soc,  second  or  anterior 
optic  chamber  still  open  ;  if,  iridean  foils.  C.  The  primitive  invagination  to 
form  one  of  the  otocysts,  as  seen  in  8g.  121  (5)  and  (G).    (.\fter  Lanltcster.) 

guards  them,  building  a  nest  of  stones  and  incubating. 
Argonauta  carries  hers  with  her  in  a  special  brood-holding 
shell. 

The  development  of  the  Pteropoda,  so  far  as  is  known, 
presents  no  points  of  contact  with  that  of  the  Siphonopoda 
rather  than  with  that  of  the  Gastropoda,  owing  to  the  fact 
that  in  them  the  egg  has  not  an  excess  of  food-yelk.  Con- 
sequently, we  find  tyjiical  trochosphere  and  veliger  larva; 
among  the  Thecosomata  (fig.  8,  C,  and  fig.  81),  whilst  the 
isolated  observation  of  Gegenbaur  has  made  known  very 
remarkable  larvje  referable  to  the  Gymnosomata,  and  with 
little  doubt  to  Pneumodermon  (fig.  8-1).  The  former  set  of 
larvje  are  sufficient  to  dom  jlish  once  for  all  the  view  which 
has  been  entertained  by  some  zoologists,  viz.,  that  the  velar 
disc  of  the  veliger  larva  is  the  same  thing  as  the  ptero- 
podial  lobes  of  the  mid-foot  of  Pteropoda.  The  latter 
larvse  are  of  importance  in  showing  that,  as  in  embryo 
Siphonopods  r,o  in  embryo  Pteropoda,  the  sucker-bearing 
lobes  of  the  fore-foot  arc  truly  podial  structures,  and  only 
embrace  the  head  and  surround  the  mouth  as  the  result  of 
late  embryonic  growth. 

Beanch  B.—LIFOCEPITALA. 
Characters. — Mollusca  with  the  head  region  undeveloped. 
No  cephalic  eyes  are  present ;  the  buccal  cavity  is  devoid 


of  biting,  rasping,  or  prehensile  organs.  The  animal  b 
sessile,  or  endowed  with  very  feeble  locomotive  powers. 
The  Lipocephala  comprise  but  one  class,  the  Lamelli- 
branchia,  also  known  as  Elatobranchia  and  Conchifera. 

Class  LAMELLIBEANOHTA 

Characters. — Lipocephala  in  which  the  archaic  BILA- 
TERAi,  SYMMETEY  of  the  MoUusca  is  usually  fully  retained, 
and  raised  to  a  dominant  feature  of  the  organization  by  the 
Literal  compression  of  the  body  and  the  development  of  the 
shell  as  two  bilaterally  symmetrical  plates  or  valves  cover- 
ing each  one  side  of  tlie  animal.  The  foot  is  commonly  a 
simple  cylindrical  or  ploughshare-shaped  organ,  used  for 
boring  in  sand  and  mud,  and  more  rarely  presents  a  crawl- 
ing disc  similar  to  that  of  Gastropoda ;  in  some  forms  it  is 
aborted.  The  paired  CTENiDLi  are  very  greatly  developed 
right  and  left  of  the  elongated  body,  and  form  the  most 
prominent  organ  of  the  group.  Their  function  is  chiefly 
not  respiratory  but  nutritive,  since  it  is  by  the  currents 
produced  by  their  ciliated  surface  that  food-particles  are 
brought  to  the  feebly-developed  mouth  and  buccal  cavity. 

The  LameUibranchia  present  as  a  whole  a  somewhat 
uniform  structure,  so  that,  although  they  are  vei7  numerous, 
it  is  not  possible  to  divide  them  into  well-marked  sub-classes 
or  sections,  and  orders.  The  chief  points  in  which  they 
vary  are — (I)  in  the  structure  of  the  ctenidia  or  branchial 
plates  ;  (2)  in  the  presence  of  one  or  of  two  chief  muscles, 
the  fibres  of  which  run  across  the  animal's  body  from  one 
valve  of  the  shell  to  the  other  (adductors) ;  (3)  in  the  greater 
or  less  elaboration  of  the  posterior  portion  of  the  mantle- 
skirt  so  as  to  form  a  pair  of  tubes,  by  one  of  which  water 
is  introduced  into  the  sub-pallial  chamber,  whilst  by  the 
other  it  is  espeUed  ;  (4)  iu  the  perfect  or  deficient  symmetry 
of  the  two  valves  of  the  shell  and  the  connected  soft  parts, 
as  compared  vnih  one  another ;  (5)  in  the  development  of 
the  foot  as  a  disc-like  crawling  organ  (Area,  Nucula,  Pectun- 
culus,  Trigonia,  Lepton,  Galeomma),  as  a  simple  plough- 
like or  tongue-shaped  organ  (Unionacea,  &c.),  as  a  re-curved 
saltatory  organ  (Cardium,  &c.),  as  a  long  burrowing  cylin- 
der (Solenacea,  &c.),  or  its  partial  (Mytilacea)  or  even  com- 
plete abortion  (Ostracea). 

The  essential  MoUuscan  organs  are,  with  these  excep- 
tions, uniformly  well  developed.  The  m.u«-tle-skiet  is 
always  long,  and  hides  the  rest  of  the  animal  from  view,  its 
dependent  margins  meeting  in  the  middle  line  below  the 
ventral  surface  when  the  animal  is  retracted ;  it  is,  as  it 
w'ere,  slit  in  the  median  lino  before  and  behind  so  as  to 
form  two  flaps,  a  right  and  a  left ;  on  these  the  right  and 
the  left  calcareous  valves  of  the  shell  are  borne  respectively, 
connected  by  an  uncalcified  part  of  the  shell  called  the 
ligament.  In  many  embryo  LameUibranchs  a  centro-dorsal 
PRIMITIVE  snELl/-G7-,AND  Or  foUicle  has  been  detected  (figs. 
8  and  151).  The  mouth  lies  in  the  median  line  anteriorly, 
the  .iUnjs  in  the  median  line  posteriorly. 

Both  CTEisriDiA  right  and  left  are  invariably  present,  the 
axis  of  each  taking  origin  from  the  side  of  the  body  as  in 
the  schematic  arehi-MolIusc  (see  fig.  1  and  fig.  131).  A 
pair  of  SErHKiDfA  opening  right  and  left,  rather  far  forward 
on  the  sides  of  the  body,  are  always  present.  Each  opens 
by  its  internal  extremity  into  the  pericardium.  A  pair  of 
GENITAL  APESTrrRE-s,  connected  by  genital  ducts  with  the 
paired  gonads,  are  found  right  and  left  near  the  nephridial 
pores,  except  in  a  few  cases  where  the  genital  duct  joins 
that  of  the  nephridium  (Spondylus).  The  sexes  are  often, 
but  not  always,  distinct.  No  accessoiy  glands  or  copulatoty 
organs  are  ever  present  in  LameUibranchs.  The  ctenidia 
often  act  as  brood-pouches. 

A  dorsal  contractile  nEir.T,  with  symmetrical  right  and 
left  auricles  (fig.  1 43,  A)  receiving  aerated  blood  from  the 
ctenidia  and  mantle-skirt,  is  present,  being  unequally  do- 


T,AMFT-T.rRB.AKfTTrrA^1 


MOl^LUSCA 


686 


veloped  only  in  those  few  forma  which  are  ineqvuvalve. 
The  typical  PEKicAKDrtTM  is  well  developed.  It  appears, 
as  in  other  MoUusca,  not  to  be  a  blood-space  although 
developed  from  the  coelom,  and  it  conununicates  with  the 
exterior  by  the  pair  of  nephridia.  As  in  Cephalopoda  (and 
possibly  other  MoUusca)  water  can  be  introduced  through 
the  -nephridia  into  this  space.  The  at.tmentaby  canal 
keeps  very  nearly  to  the  median  vertical  plane  whilst  ex- 
hibiting a  number  of  flexures  and  loopings  in  this  plane. 
A  pair  of  large  glandular  outgrowths,  the  so-called  "  liver  " 
or  great  digestive  gland,  exists  as  in  other  MoUuscs.  A 
pair  of  pedal  otocysts,  and  a  pair  of  osphkadia  at  the 
base  of  the  gills,  appear  to  be  always  present.  A  typical 
NEEVOUS  SYSTEM  is  present  (fig.  144),  consisting  of  a 
cerebro-pleuro-visceral  ganglion-pair,  united  by  connectives 
to  a  pedal  ganglion-pair  and  an  osphradial  gang!ion-pair 
(parieto-splanchnic). 

A  special  CKCum  connected  with  the  pharynx  is  some- 
times found,  containing  a  tough  flexible  cylinder  of  trans- 
parent cartilaginous  appearance  and  unknown  significance, 
called  the  "crystalline  style"  (Mactra),  which  possibly 
represents  the  radular  sac  of  Glossophora.  In  manyLamelli- 
branchs  a  gland  is  found  on  the  hinder  surface  of  the  foot 
in  the  mid  line,  which  secretes  a  substance  which  sets  into 
the  form  of  threads — the  so-called  "  byssus  " — by  means  of 
which  the  animal  can  fix  itself.  Sometimes  this  gland  is 
found  in  the  young  and  not  in  the  adult  (Anodon,  Unio, 
Cyclas).  In  some  Lamellibranchs  (Pecten,  Spondylus, 
Pholas,  Mactra,  Tellina,  Pectunculus,  Galeomma,  &c.), 
.  although  cephalic  eyes  are  always  absent,  special  eyes 
are  developed  on  the  free  margin  of  the  mantle-skirt, 
apparently  by  the  modification  of  tentacles  which  are 
commonly  found  there  (fig.  145).  The  existence  of  pores 
in  the  foot  and  elsewhere  in  Lamellibranchia  by  which  liquid 
can  pass  into  and  out  of  the  vascular  system,  although 
asserted  as  in  the  case  of  other  MoUusca,  appears  to  be 
improbable.  It  has  yet  to  be  shown  by  satisfactory  micro- 
scopic csctions  that  the  supposed  pores  are  anything  but 
epidermal  glands. 

The  Lamellibranchia  live  chiefly  in  the  sea,  some  in 
fresh  waters.  A  very  few  have  the  power  of  swimming  by 
opening  and  shutting  the  valves  of  the  shell  (Pecten,  Lima) ; 
most  can  slowly  crawl  or  rapidly  burrow;  others  are,  when 
adult,  permanently  fixed  to  stones  or  rocks  either  by  the 
shell  or  the  byssus.  In  development  some  Lamellibranchia 
pass  through  a  free-swimming  ti-ochosphere  stage  with  prae- 
oral  ciliated  band ;  other  fresh-water  forms  which  carry  the 
young  in  brood-pouches  formed  by  the  ctenidia  have  sup- 
pressed tliis  larval  phase. 

The  following  classification  and  enumeration  of  genera 
are  based  primarily  upon  the  characters  of  the  adductor 
muscles.  The  Heteromya  and  Monomya  must  be  conceived 
of  as  derived  from  forms  resembling  such  Gastropodous 
Isomya  as  Nucula  and  Trigonia,  which  undoubtedly  are 
the  nearest  living  representatives  of  the  ancestral  Lipo- 
cephala,  and  bring  us  nearest  to  the  other  branch  of  the 
MoUusca,  the  Glossophora. 

Ordor  1. — laomya.' 
Character. — Anterior  and  posterior  adductor  muscles  of  approxi- 
mately equal  size. 

Sub-order  1. — InlegripalUa. 
Cftarodwa.— Marginal  attachment  of  the  mantle  to  the  shell  not 
inflected  to  form  a  sinua ;  siphons  not  developed  in  some,  present 
in  most. 
Family  1. — Arcacea. 

Genera :  Area.,  L.  (fig.  132) ;  Cucullasa,  Lam.  ;  Pectunculus,  Lam.  ; 
Limopsis,  Sassl;  Nucula,  Lam.  (fig.  134)  ;  laoarea,  Munster ; 
Leda,  Schu. ;   Foldia,  MoIL  ;  Solenclla,  Sowerby,  &c. 
Family  2. — Trigoniacea. 
Genera :  Trigonia,  Brug.  ;  Axinua,  Sow.  ;  Lyrodeama,  Conrad. 


Family  3. — Unionaeea. 
Genera:  Vnio,  Eetz.  ;  Castalia,  Lam.  ;  Anodon,  Cuv.  (figs.  124 
&C.) ;  Iridina,  Lam.  ;  Mycetopui,  d'Orb.,  fcc. 
Family  i. — tueinaeea. 

Genera :    Lucina,   Brug.  ;    CorHs,   Cuv.  ;    Diplodmla,    Brown ; 
Kellia,  Turton ;  Mmtamta,  Turton  ;  Lepton,   Turton  ;  Oale- 
cnnma,  Turton  ;  Astarte,  Sow.  ;  Crassatdla,  Lam.  j  Cardinia, 
Ag.  ;  Cardita,  Brug.,  &c 
Family  5. — Cyprinaeea. 
Genera :  Tridacna,  Da  C.';  Chama,  L.  ;  Dimya,  Ron.  ;  Diceras, 
Lk.  ;  lioeardia,   Lam.  ;  Bippopodium,  Sow.  ;  Cardium,   L.  ; 
Corbieula,  Meg. ;  Cyrena,  Lk. ;  Cyclas,  Brug.  (fig.  146) ;  Piind- 
ium,  Pfr.  (figs.  148-153) ;  Cyprina,  Lam.,  &c. 
Sab-order  2. — Sinupallia. 
CSorscfers.— Marginal  attachment  of  the  mantle  to  the  shell  in- 
flected so  as  to  form  a  sinus  into  which  the  pallial  aiphons  can  l» 
withdrawn ;  siphons  always  present,  and  large. 
Family  6. — Veriercuxa. 

Genera :  Cypricardia,  Lam.  ;  Tapes,  Megl.  ;  Cyclina,  Desh.  ■, 
Cytherea,  Lam.  (figs.  125,  &c.)  ;  Chime,  Megl.  ;  Vemia,  L.  ; 
Liidnopsis,  F.  H.  ;  Sanguinolaria,  Lam.  ;  Psammobia,  Lam. 
(fig.  130)  ; .  Tellina,  L.  ;  Vonax,  L.  ;  Scrobicularia,  Schu.  ; 
Cumingia,  Sow. ;  Bangia,  Dsml  ;  Maelra,  L.  (fig.  140) ;  Trigo- 
nella,  Da  C.  ;  Vaganclla,  Gr.  ;  Lutraria,  Lam. 
Family  7. — Myacea. 

Genera :  ilycchama,  Stb.  ;  Chamosirea,  Eois  ;  Pandora,  Sol.  ; 
Thracia,  Leach  ;  Thetis,  Sow.  ;  Pholadomya,  Sow.  ;  Corhula, 
Brug.  ;  Mya,  Lam.  ;  Saxicava,  Fleur  ;  Panopma,  Ad.  ;  Olyei- 
meris,  Lam.  ;  Siliqua,  Mhlf.,  &c.  ;  Solen,  L. 
Family  8. — Pfioladacea. 
Genera :  Clavagella,  Lam.  ;  AspergiUum,  Lam.  (figs.  128,  129) ; 
Humphrajia,  Gr.  ;  Pholas,  L. ;  Pholadidea,  Turt. ;  Teredo,  L. ; 
Teredina,  .Lam.  ;  Furcella,  Oken,  &c. 

Order  2. — Heteromya. 
Charaeters. — Anterior  adductor  (pallial  adductor)  much  smaller 
than  the  posterior  adductor  (pedal  adductor) ;  siphons  rarely  present 
Family  1. — Mytilacea. 
Genera :  Mytilus,  L.  (fig.  133);  Modiola,  Lam.;  Crenella,  Brown  ; 
Lithodomus,  Cuv.  ;  Dreissena,  Ben.   (fig.   136) ;  Modiolarea, 
Gr.,  &c. 
Family  2. — Mulleriacea. 
Genera :  Aetheria,  Lam.  ;  Mulleria,  Vir. 
Order  3. — Monomya. 
Characters — Anterior  adductor  absent  in  the  adult 
never  developed. 
Family  1. — Anculacea, 
Genera :  Cardiola,  Brdp.  ;  Avicula,  Kl. ;  Malleus,  Lam.  ;  /tw- 
ceramtu.  Sow. ;  Crenatula,  Lam.  ;  Perna,  Brug.,  &c. 
Family  2. — Ostracea. 
Genera:  Osirea,  L.  (fig.  6);  Anmnia,  L. ;  Spondylus,  L. ;  Plicatula, 
Lam.  ;  Vulsella,  Lam.  ;  Lima,  Brug.  ;  Pecten,  L.  ;  Siuniles, 
Dfr.,  &c. 
Further  Remarhs  on  the  Lamellibranchia. — The  Lamelli- 
branchia are  the  only  members  of  the  Lipocephalous  branch 
of  MoUusca  existing  at  the  present  day;  and  we  must 
suppose  that,  whilst  on  the  one  hand  the  earliest  Glosso- 
phorous  forms  were  developing  from  the  archi-Mollusca  by 
the  elaboration  of  the  buccal  apparatus,  the  bivalvcd  sessile 
Lamellibranchs  were  developing  in  another  direction  from 
univalve  cephalophorous  ancestors.      The   large  bilobed 
mantle-flap  witb  its  pair  of  shells  covering  in  the  whole 
animal,  the  current-producing  largely-expanded  ctenidia, 
and  the  reduced  cephalic  region  ars  characters  which  go 
hand  in  hand,  and  were  simultaneously  acquired,  each  being 
related  to  the  development  of  the  others.     Unless  the 
"  crystalline  style  "  of  Lamellibranchs  is  to  be  considered 
as  the  rudiment  of  the  "  radular  sac  "  of  Glossophora,  as 
suggested  by  Balfour,  there  is  no  indication  whatever  that 
the  ancestors  of  the  LameUibranchia  had  acquired  a  repre- 
sentative of  the  buccal  apparatus— so  highly  developed  in 
Glossophora— before  diverging  from  the  archi-MoUusca ; 
that  is  to  say,  the  common  ancestors  of  the  two  great 
branches  of  MoUusca  presented  the  distinctive  character 
of  neither  branch — they  had  not  an  aborted  cephalic  region, 
and  they  had  not  a  lingual  ribbon. 

As  an  example  of  the  organization  of  a  Lamellibranch, 
we  shaU  review  the  structure  of  the  Common  Pond-Mussel 
{Anodonta  cygnea),  comparing  its  structure  with  those  of 


686 


MOLLUSCA 


[lamzj-ubeabchia; 


other  Lamellibraucliia.  The  Swan  ifussel  has  superSciaJiy 
a_  perfectly-developed  bilateral  symmetry.  The  left  side,  of 
the  animal  is  seen  as  when  removed  from  its  shell  in  fig. 
124  (1).  The  valves  of  the  shell  have  been  removed  by 
severing  their  adhesions  to  the  muscular  areje  h,  i,  k,  I,  m,  u. 

(1)  Z    f  ^   "i.   ?     ?    f  0  „;j 


?I0.  124. — DiJi^T-ims  of  the  external  form  and  anatomy  of  Anodonia  cyynca,  the 
Pond-Ma-ssei':  in  all  the  figures  the  animal  is  seen  from  the  left  aide,  the 
centixMlorsai  region  appermost,  as  in  the  drawings  of  fig.  75,  which  compare, 
(i)  Animal  removed  from  its  shell,  a  probe  g  passed  into  the  sab-pallial 
chamber  through  the  excurrent  Biphonal  notch.  (2)  View  from  the  ventral 
FOTliice  of  an  Anodoo  with  its  foot  expanded  and  issuing  from  between  the 
::.".Ding  shells.  (3)  The  left  mantle. flap  reflected  upwards  so  es  to  expose  the 
sides  of  the  body.  (4)  Diagrammatic  section  of  AnoJon  to  show  the  course  of 
the  alimentary  canal.  (5)  The  two  gill.plates  of  the  left  side  reflected  upwards 
so  as  to  expose  the  fissure  between  foot  and  gill  where  the  probe  g  passes. 
(6)  Diagram  to  show  the  positions  of  the  ncrve.ganglia,  heart,  and  nephridia. 
Letters  in  all  the  figures  as  follows  '.-~-a^  centro-dorsal  area ;  b,  m.argin  of 
the  left  mantle-flap ;  c,  margin  of  the  right  mantle- flap ;  d,  excurrent  siphocal 
notch  of  the  mantle  margin  :  e,  incurrent  siphonal  notch  of  the  mantle 


fix)t ;  k,  proti-actor  muscle  of  the  foot ;  I,  posterior  (pedal)  adductor  muscle 
of  the  shells ;  m,  posterior  retractor  muscle  of  the  foot  ^n,  anterior  labial 
tentacle ;  o,  posterior  labial  tentacle ;  p,  base-line  of  origin  of  the  reflected 
mantle-flap  from  the  side  of  the  body  ;  9,  left  external  gill-plate ;  r,  left  In- 
^-.-nal  gill-plate ;  iv.  Inner  lamella  of  the  right  muer  gill-plate ;  rf?,  right  outer 
gill-plate :  *,  line  of  concrescence  of  the  outer  lamella  of  the  left  outer  gill- 
plate  with  the  left  mantle-flap ;  t,  pallial  tentacles  ;  v,  the  thickened  mtis- 
cular  pallial  margin  which  adheres  to  the  shell  and  forms  the  pallial  line  of 
the  left  side ;  v,  that  of  the- right  aide ;  w,  the  mouth ;  r,  aperture  of  the  left 
organ  of  Bojanus  (nepliridium)  exposed  by  cutting  the  attachment  of  the 
inner  lamella  of  the  inner  gill-plate ;  y,  aperture  of  the  genital  duct ;  «,  fissure 
between  the  free  edge  of  the  inner  lamella  of  the  inner  gill-plate  and  the  side 
of  the  foot,  through  which  the  probe  g  passes  into  ttie  upper  division  of  the 
aub-pallial  space  ;  oa,  line  of  concrescence  of  the  iimcr  lamella  of  the  right 
inner  giU.pl.ate  with  the  inner  lamella  of  the  lef^  iunrr  gill-plate ;  ri,  ac,  ad, 
three  pit-like  depressions  in  the  median  lino  of  tlie  lont  supposed  by  some 
writ>u^  to  he  pores  admitting  water  into  the  vascular  system  ;  oe,  left  shell 
valve ;  i^f,  space  occupied  by  liver ;  ag,  spac"  occitoicii  by  i^.mad ;  ah,  muscular 
substance  of  the  foot :  ai,  duct  of  the  liver  on  ifie  w.iU  of  the  stomach ;  afc» 
stomach  ;  at,  rectum  traversing  the  ventricle  of  the  licavi ;  07.1,  pericai?iinm  ; 
an,  glandular  portion  of  the  left  nephridium ;  ap,  ventricle  of  Ihe  heart ;  uq, 
aperture  by  which  the  left  auricle  joined  the  ventricle ;  or.  non-glandular  por- 
tion of  the  left  nephridium ;  as,  anns ;  at,  pore  leading  fVom  the  pericardium  into 
the  glandular  sac  of  the  left  nephridium ;  aii,  pore  leadin,'*  from  the  glandular 
into  the  noU'glandular  portion  of  the  left  nephridium  ;  av,  internal  pore  lead- 
ing from  the  non-glandular  portion  of  the  left  nephridium  to  the  external 
pore  r;  aie,  left  cerobro-pleuro-viaceral  ganglion:  ax,  left  peditl  ganglion; 
ay,  left  otocyst ;  (ir,  left  olfactory  ganglion  {narieln-snlanehnic) ;  ^^  floor  of 
the  pericardi-m  separating  that  space  from  tne  non-ylandulnr  portion  of  tie 
nephridia. 

The  free  edge  of  the  left  half  of  the  mantle-skirt  b  is  repre- 
sented as  a  little  contracted  in  order  to  show  the  exactly  simi- 
lar free  edge  of  the  right  half  of  the  raantle-.skirt  c  These 
edges  are  not  attached  to,  nUuough  they  touch,  one  auother; 
each  flap  (nKht  or  left)  can  be  freely  thrown  back  in  the  way 
which  has  been  carried  out  in  fig.  1 24,  (3)  for  that  of  the 
left  side.  This  is  not  always  the  case  with  Lamellibranchs ; 
there  is  in  the  group  a  tendency  for  the  corresponding 
edges  of  the  mantle-idrt  to  fuse  together  by  concrescence, 


and  so  to  form  a  more  or  less  completely  closed  bag,  as  in 
the  Scaphopoda  (Dentalium).  In  this  way  the  notches 
d,  e  of  the  hinder  part  of  the  mantle-skirt  of  Anodon  are  in 
the  Siphonate  forms  converted  into  two  separate  holes,  the 
edges  of  the  mantle  being  elsewhere  fused  together  along 
this  hipder  margin.  Further  than  this,  the  part  of  the 
mantle-skirt  bounding  the  two  holes  is  frequently  drawn  out 
so  as  to  form  a  pair  of  tubes  which  project  from  the  8hell(figs. 
130,  141).  In  such  Lamellibranchs  as  the  oysters,  scallops, 
and  many  others  which  have  the  edges  of  the  mantle-slort 
quite  free,  there  are  numerous  tentacles  upon  those  edges. 
In  -Ajiodon  these  pallial  tentacles  are  confined  to  a  small  area 
surrounding  the  inferior  siphonal  notch  (fig.  124,  (3),  !l). 

The  centre-dorsal  point  a  of  the  animal  of  Anodonta 
(fig.  124,  (1))  is  called  the  umbonal  area  ;  the  great  anterior 
muscular  surface  h  is  that  of  the  anterior  adductor  muscle, 
the  posterior  similar  surface  t  is  that  of  the  posterior 
adductor  muscle ;  the  long  line  of  attachment  «  is  the 
simple  "  pallial  muscle," — a  thickened  ridge  which  is  seen 
to  pun  parallel  to  the  margin  of  the  mantle-skirt  in  this 
Lamellibranch.  In  some  of  the  Siphonate  Isomya,  which 
are  hence  termed  "  Sinupallia,"  the  pallial  muscle  is  not 
simple  but  deeply  incurved  at  the  posterior  region  so  as  to 
allow  of  the  large  pallial  siphons  being  retracted  within  the 
shell  or  expanded  at  will  (fig.  127,  and  figs.  140,  141). 

It  is  the  approximate  equality 
in  the  si^e  of  the  anterior  and 
posterior  adductor  muscles  which 
has  led  to  the  name  Isoyma  for 
the  group  to  which  -Anodon  be- 
longs. The  hinder  adductor 
muscle  may  be  considered  as  re- 
presenting morphologically  the  I 
transvei^e  fibres  of  the  root  of 
the  foot  of  Nautilus  by  which  it  ' 
adheres  to  its  shell  (fig.  91,  i),  the 
annular  muscular  area  of  Patella 
(fig.  2  7,c),  and  the  columella  muscle 
of  the  Gastropods  generally.  It 
is  always  large  in  Lamellibranchs, 
but  the  anterior  adductor  may 
be   very  small   (Heteromya),   or^'°;}2  

,         ^  ■"      ,,        ..^  ,,,     ■'    '       ^       of  the  shell  of  Cythcrea  (one  of 

absent     altogether     (Monomya).    the  sinnpaiiiate  isomyai  tmt 
The  anterior  adductor  muscle  is    ""=  ''"'^  "P««- 
in  front  of  the  mouth  and  alimentary  tract  altogether, 
and  must  be  regarded  as  a  special  and   peculiar  deve- 
lopment of  the  median  anterior  part  of  the  mantle- Sap 


liganuDt 


T  of  the  two  v«lvc3 


'^rnlorinicTioT  ho^* 
Fio.  120.— Right  valve  of  the  aamc  shell  from  the  outer  face. 

in  Heteromya  and  Isomya.  Amongst  those  Lamelli- 
branchs which  have  only  a  posterior  adductor  (Monomya), 
it  is  remarkable  that  the  oyster  has  been  found  (by 
Huxley)  to  possesi,  when  the  young  shells  and  muscle  i 
first  develop,  a  well-marked  anterior  adductor  as  \/ell  as  a 
posterior  one.     Accordingly  there  is  ground  for  supposing  . 


l.AnntT.T.rHBiN-ran  J 


AJ  O  L  L  U  a  C  A 


687 


that  the  Monomya  have  been  developed  from  Isomya- 
like  ancestors,  and  have  lost  by  atrophy  their  anterior 
adductor.  The  single  adductor  zniLscle  of  the  Monomya 
is  separated  by  a 
difference  of  fibre 
into  two  portions, 
but  neitherof  these 
can  be  regarded  as 
possibly  represent 
ing  the  anterior 
adductor  of  the 
other  Lamelli- 
branchs.  One  of 
these  portions  is 
more  ligamentous, 
and  serves  to  keep 
the  two  shells  con- 
stantly attached  to 

one  another,  whilst  Fio.  127.— Left  ralve  of  the 
the  more  fleshy  por- 
tion serves  to  close  the  shell  rapidly  when  it  has  been  gaping. 
In  removing  the  valves  of  the  shell  from  an  Anodon,  it 
is  necessary  not  only  to  cut  through  the  muscular  attach- 
ments of  the  body-wall  to  the  shell  but  to  sever  abo  a 
strong  elastic  ligament,  or  spring  resembling  india-rubber, 
joining  the  two  shells  about  the  umbonal  area.  The  shell 
«f  Anodon  does  not  present  these  parts  in  the  most  strongly 
marked  condition,  and  accordingly  our  figures  (figs.  125, 
126,  127)  represent  the  valves  of  the  Sinupalliate  genus 
Cytherea.  The  corresponding  parts  are  recognizable  in 
Anodon.  Referring  to  the  figures  (125,  126)  for  an  ex- 
planation of  terms  applicable  to  the  parts  of  the  valve  and 
the  markings  on  its  inner  surface — corresponding  to  the 
muscular  area  which  we  have  already  noted  on  the  surface 
of  the  animal's  body — we  must  specially  note  here  the  posi- 
tion of  that  denticulated  thickening  of  the  dorsal  margin 
of  the  valve  which  is  called  the  hinge  (fig.  127).  By  this 
liinge  one  valve  is  closely  fitted  to  the  other.  Below  this 
binge  each  shell  becomes  concave,  above  it  each  shell  rises  a 
little  to  form  the  umbo,  and  it  is  into  this  ridge-like  upgrowth 
of  each  valve  that  the  elastic  ligament  or  spring  is  fixed  (fig. 
127).  As  shown  in  the  diagram  (fig. 
127*)  representing  a  transsverse  sec- 
tion of  the  tvi'o  valves  of  a  Lamelli- 
branch,  the  two  shells  form  a  double 
lever,  of  which  the  toothed- hinged  is 
the  fulcrum.  The  adductor  muscles 
placed  in  the  concavity  of  the  shells  a- 
act  upon  the  long  arms  of  the  lever 
at  a  mechanical  advantage  ;  their  con- 
traction keeps  the  shells  shut,  and 
stretches  the  ligament  or  spring  A. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  ligament  h 
acts  upon  the  short  arm  formed  b} 
the  umbonal  ridge  of  the  shells;  when- 
ever the  adductors  relax,  the  elastic 
substance  of  the  ligament  contracts, 
and  the  shells  gape.  It  is  on  this 
account  that  the  valves  of  a  dead  La-  '", 
mellibranch  always  gape ;  the  elastic  «' 
ligament  is  no  longer  counteracted  by 
the  effort  of  the  adductors.  The  state 
of  closure  of  the  valves  of  the  shell  is 
not,  therefore,  one  of  rest ;  when  it  is 
at  rest — that  is,  when  there  is  no 
muscular  effort — the  valves  of  a  Lamellibrancb  are  slightly 
gaping,  and  are  closed  by  the  action  of  the  adductors  when 
the  animal  is  disturbed.  The  ligament  is  simple  in  Anodon ; 
in  many  Lamellibranchs  it  is  separated  into  two  layers,  an 
outer  and  an  inner  (thicker  and  denser).    That  the  condition 


tion  of  a  Laiiiellibrancli'd 
nliclls,  ligaiiicnt,  and  ail- 
ductor  muscle,  a,  b,  riglit 
and  led  valves  of  the 
shell ;  c,  d,  the  umlxines 
or  short  ai  ms  of  the' 
(,/  the  long 

-.J.  the  hinge:  ft,  th 


leTvei 
i  ol^tl 


ligaiiie 


,  the  adductor 


of  gapug  of  the  shell-valvea  is  essen'tial  to  the  life  of  the 
Lamellibrancb  appears  from  the  fact  that  food  to  nourish 
it,  water  to  aerate  its  blood,  and  spermatozoa  to  fertilise 
its  eggs,  are  all  introduced  into  this  gaping  chamber  by 
currents  of  water,  whicli  are  set  going  by  the  highly- 
developed  ctenidia.  The  current  of  water  enters  into  the 
Bub-pallial  space  at  the  spot  marked  e  in  fig.  124,  (1), 
and,  after  passing  as  far  forward  as  the  mouth  w  in  fig.  124, 
(5),  takes  an  outward  course  and  leaves  the  sub-pallial 
space  by  the  upper  notch  d.  These  notches  are  knovra 
in  Anodon  as  the  afferent  and  efferent  siphonal  notches 
respectively,  and  correspond  to  the  long  tube-like  afferent 
interior  and  ctfertnt  superior  "siphons"  formed  by  the 
mantle  in  many  other  Lamellibranchs  (fig.  130). 

AVliilst  the  valves  of  the  shell  are  equal  in  Anodon  we 
find  in  many  Lamellibrancrfs  (Ostraea,  Chama,  Corbula,  &c.) 
one  valve  larger,  and  the  other  smaller  and  sometimes  flat, 
whilst  the  larger  shell  may  be  fixed  to  rock  or  to  stones 
(Ostrsea,  ic).  A  further  variation  consists  in  the  develop- 
ment of  additional  shelly  plates  upon  the  dorsal  line  be- 
tween the  two  large  valves  (Pholadida;).  In  Pholas  dadylvs 
we  find  a  pair  of  umbonal  plates,  a  dors-nmbonal  plate  and 
a  dorsal  plate.  It  is  to  be  remembered  that  the  whole  of  the 
cuticular  hard  product  produced  on  the  dorsal  surface  and 
on  the  mantle-flaps  is  to  be  regarded  as  the  "shell,"  of 
which  a  median  band-like  area,  the  ligament,  usually  remains 
uncalcified,  so  as  to  result  in  the  production  of  two  valves 
united  by  the  elastic  ligament.  But  the  shelly  substance 
does  not  always  in  boring  forms  adhere  to  this  form  after 
its  first  growth.  In  Aspergillum  the  whole  of  the  tubular 
mantle  area  secretes  a  continuous  shelly 
tube,  although  in  the  young  condition  two 
valves  were  present.  These  are  seen  (fig. 
129)  set  in  the  firm  substance  of  the  adult 
tubular  shell,  which  has  even  replaced  the 
ligament,  so  that  the  tube  is  complete.  In 
Teredo  a  similar  tube  is  formed  as  the  animal 
elongates  (boring  in  wood),  the  original  ahell- 
valves  not  adhering  to  it  but  remaining  mov- 
able and  provided  with  a  special  muscular 
apparatus  in  place  of  a  ligament. 

Let  us  now  examine  the  organs  which  lie 
beneath  the  mantle-skirt  of  Anodon,  and  are 
bathed  by  the  curr«nt  of  water  which  cir- 


Fig.  129. 


1  (from  Owen). 

)i  to  8ho\T  the  original  valves 
bular  fonu  (from  Owen). 


Fig.  128. 
Fio.  12s.— Shell  t>t  A^ptrgVXum  vPQiT.ifrr 
Fio.  129.— Shell  ot  AsixrgiUttm  fojiuyinnii  I, 
embedded  in  a  continuous  calciticatiou  of  t 

culates  through  it.  This  can  be  done  by  lifting  up  and 
throwing  back  the  left  half  of  the  mantle-skirt  as  is  re- 
presented in  fig.  124,  (3).  We  thus  expose  the  plough- 
like foot  (/),  the  two  left  labial  tentacles,  and  the  two 
left  gill-plates  or  left  ctenidium.  In  fig.  124,  (5),  one  of 
the  labial  tentacles  «  is  also  thrown  back  so  as  to  diow 


688 


MOLLUSCA 


[lauellibkajichia. 


the  mouth  if,  and  the  two  left  gill-plates  are  reflected 
so  as  to  show  the  giU-plates  of  the  right  side  {rr,  rq)  pro- 
jecting behind  the  foot,  the  inner  or  median  plate  of  each 
side  being  united  by  concrescence  to  its  fellow  of  the 
opposite  side  along  a  continuous  line  {aa).  The  left  inner 
gill-plate  is  also  snipped  so  as  to  show  the  subjacent  orifices 
of  the  left  nephridium  x,  and  of  the  genital  gland  (testis  or 
ovary)  y.  The  foot  thus  exposed  in  Anodou  is  a  simple 
muscular  tongue-like  organ.  It  can  be  protruded  between 
the  flaps  of  the  mantle  (fig.  124,  (1),  (2))  so  as  to  issue 
from  the  shell,  and  by  its  action  the  Anodon  can  slowly 
crawl,  or  burrow  in  soft  mud  or  sand.  It  has  been  sup- 
posed that  water  is  taken  into  the  blood-vessels  of  the 
Anodon  through  pores  in  the  foot,  and  in  spite  of  opposi- 
tion this  view  is  still  maintained  (Griesbach,  47).  In  fig. 
124,  (2)  the  letters  ab,  ac,  ad,  point  to  three  pit-like  depres- 
sions, supposed  by  Griesbach  to  be  pores  leading  into  the 
blood-system.  According  to  Carriere  (48)  these  pits  are 
nothing  but  irregularities  of  the  surface ;  in  some  cases 
they  are  the  entrances  to  ramified  glands.  Other  Lamelli- 
branchs  may  have  a  larger  foot  relatively  than  has  Anodon. 
In  Area  it  has  a  sole-like  surface.  In  Area  too  and  many 
others  it  carries  a  byssus-forming  gland  and  a  byssus- 
cementing  gland.  In  the  Cockles,  in  Cardium,  and  in 
Trigonia,  it  is  capable  of  a  sudden  stroke,  which  causes 
the  animal  to  jump  when  out  of  the  water,  in  the  latter 

"mm 


Tia   130. — P<ammobUi  floridi 


genus  to  a  height  of  four  feet.  In  Mytilus  the  foot  is 
reduced  to  little  more  than  a  tubercle  carrying  the  aper- 
tures of  these  glaa^ls.  In  the  Oyster  it  is  absent  alto- 
gether. 

The  labial  tentacles  of  Anodon  (n,  o  in  fig.  124,  (3),  (5) ) 
are  highly  vascular 
flat  processes  richly 
supplied  with  nerves. 
The  left  anterior  ten- 
tacle (seen  in  the 
figure)  is  joined  at 
its  base  in  front  of 
the  mouth  (ic)  to  the 
right  anterior  ten- 
tacle, and  similarly 
the  left  (o)  and  right 
posterior  tentacles 
are  joined  behind  the 
mouth.       Those     of  _      .,     _,  ,      .     ,      »^   ,  „  . .     , 

Area  (l,  K  m  ng.  l-i-i)  the  animal  ot  Anodonta  cygnica,  from  which  the 
show  tliiii  rpl.ation  to  "anHesklrt,  the  labial  ti-ntacles,  and  the  gill- 
8U0W  lUlS  reiauon  w  (lament,  have  Ken  entirely  removed  so  as  to 
the  mouth  (a).  These  sfiow  the  relations  of  the  axis  of  the  giU-plmiies 
/  .  or  ctenidia  g,  k.    a,  ccntro-dorsal  area  ;  ft,  ante- 

organs  are  CCaractei--  rior  adductor  muscle ;  c,  posterior  adductor 
istic  of  fll  Lamelli-  tJU8cIe;d,  mouth  ;e  anus ; /toot ;?  a-copor. 
tion  of  the  axis  of  left  cteuidium ;  A,  axis  of 
ri;:ht  ctcnidium;  k,  portion  of  the  axis  of  the 
left  ctcnidium  which  is  fused  with  the  base  of 
the  foot,  the  two  dotted  lines  indicating  the 
origins  of  the  trio  rows  of  giU-fllamenta ;  ft,  line 
of  origin  of  the  anterior  labial  tentacle ;  n,  ne- 
phildial  onerture;  o,  gcniul  aperti 


branchs ;  they  do  not 
vary  except  in  size, 
being  sometimes 
drawn  out  to 
streamer-like  dimen- 
sions. Their  appear- 
ance and  position  suggest  that  they  are  in  some  way 
related  morphologically  to  the  gill-plates,  the  anterior 
labial  tsntacle  being  a  contiauatiou  of  the  outer  gill-plate. 


[  the  posterior  labial  tentacle.    (Oii- 


and  the  posterior  a  continuation  of  the  inner  gill-plate. 
There  is  no  embryological  evidence  to  support  this  Sug- 
gested connexion,  and,  as  will  appear  immediately,  the 
history  of  the  gill -plates  in  various  forms  of  Lamelli- 
branchs  does  not  directly  favour  it.  Yet  it  is  very  prob- 
able that  the  labial  tentacles  and  gill -plates  are  modi- 
fications of  a  double  horseshoe -shaped  area  of  ciliated 
filamentous  processes  which  existed  in  ancestral  Mollusca 
much  as  in  Phoronis  and  the  Polyzoa,  and  is  to  be  com- 
pared vdih  the  continuous  prs-  and  post-oral  ciliated  band 
of  the  Echinid  larva  Pluteus  and  of  Tornaria  (49). 

The  giU-plates  have  a  structure  very  difi'erent  from  that 
of  the  labial  tentacles,  and  one  which  in  Anodon  is  singu- 
larly complicated  as  compared  with  the  condition  presented 
by  these  organs  in  some  other  Lamellibranchs,  and  with 
what  must  have  been  their  original  condition  in  the  ances- 
tors of  the  whole  series  of  living  LameUibranchia.  The 
phenomenon  of  "  concrescence  "  which  we  have  already  had 
to  note  as  -showing  itself  so  importantly  in  regard  to  the 
free  edges  of  the  mantle-skirt  and  the  formation  of  the 
siphons,  is  what,  above  all  things,  has  complicated  the 
structure  of  the  Lamellibranch  ctenidium.  Our  present 
knowledge  of  the  interesting  series  of  modifications  through 
which  the  Lamellibranch  gill-plates  have  developed  to  their 
most  complicated  form  is  due  to  R.  Holman  Peck  (50) 
and  to  Mitsukuri  (51).  The  MoUuscan  ctenidium  is  typi- 
cally, as  shown  in  fig.  2,  a  plume-like  struc- 
ture, consisting  of  a  vascular  axis,  on  each 
side  of  which  is  set  a  row  of  numerous  la- 
melliform  or  filamentous  processes.  These 
processes  are  hollow,  and  receive  the  venous 
blood  from,  and  return  it  again  aerated  into, 
the  hollow  axis,  in  which  an  aflerent  and  an 
efferent  blood-vessel  may  be  differentiated. 
In  the  genus  Nucula  (fig.  134),  one  of  the 
urrent  Arcaceas,  we  have  an  example  of  a  Lamelli- 
branch retaining  this  plume-Uke  form  of  giU. 
In  other  Arcacese  (e.ff.,  Area  and  Pectunculus)  the  lateral 
processes  which  are  set  on  the  axis  of  the  ctenidium  are  not 
lameUffi,  but  are  slightly-flattened  very  long  tubes  or  hol- 
low filaments.  These  fila- 
ments are  so  fine  and  are 
set  so  closely  together 
that  they  appear  to  form 
a  continuovis  membrane 
until  examined  with  a 
lens.  The  microscope 
shows  that  the  neighbour- 
ing filaments  are  held  to- 
gether by  patches  of  cilia, 
called  "  ciliated  junc- 
tions," which  interlock 
with  one  another  just  as 
two  brushes  may  be  made 
to  do.  In  fig.  133,  A  a 
portion  of  four  filaments 
of  a  ctenidium  of  the  Sea- 
Mussel  (Mytilus)  is  repre- 
sented, having  precisely  j 
the  same  structure 
those  of  Area.  The  fila- 
ments of  the  gill  (cteni- 
dium) of  Mytilus  and 
Area     thus     form     two 


Fio.  1S2.— View  from  tho  ventral  (pedal)  as- 
pect of  the  animal  of  ArcaXot:,  themantle- 
OApond  giU-filaroents  having  been  cutaway. 
a,  mouth ;  b,  anus ;  c,  fixe  spirally  turned 
extremity  of  the  giU-axis  or  ct«nidial  axis 
of  the  right  side ;  d,  do.  of  the  left  side ; 
e,  /,  anterior  portions  of  these  axes  fused 
by  concrescence  to  the  wall  of  the  body ; 
<?,  anterior  adductor  muscle ;  A,  posterior 
closely  set  row^  ■which  adductor;  i,  anterior  labial  tentacle;  k, 
J I   t ^.,    *!,«  rt,.;«    «f      posterior  labial  tentacle  .  ^  baseline  of  the 

depend  from  the  axis  ot  f^^^.  „,^  ^^^^  „f  j^.^  f^[.^  ,^  caUoaity. 
the  gill  like  two  parallel     (Original.) 

plates.  Further,  thcii-  structure  is  profoundly  modified  by 
the  curious  condition  of  the  free  ends  of  the  depending 
filaments.     These  arc  actually  reflected  at  a  sharp  angle— 


LAMELLIBRANCBIA.] 


M  O  L  L  U   S  C  A 


689 


doubled  on  tnemseives  in  fact — and  thus  fonn  an  additional 
row  of  filaments  (see  fig.  1 33,  B).  Consequently,  each  primi- 
tive filament  has  a  descending  and  an  ascending  ramus,  and 
instead  of  each  row  forming  a  simple  plate,  the  plate  is 
double,  consisting  of  a  descending  and  an  ascending  lamella. 
As  the  axis  of  the  ctenidium  lies  by  the  side  of  the  body, 
and  is  very  frequently  connate  with  the  body,  as  so  often 
happens  in  Gastropods  also,  we  find  it  convenient  to  speak 
of  the  two  plate-like  structures  formed  on  each  ctenidial 
axis  aathe  outer  and  the  inner  gill-plate;  each  of  these  is 


Tvt.  133. — FiUmisnts  of  the  cteoidinm  of  MyiilvM  edulfx  (after  HoIidad  Peck). 
A.  Part  of  four  tllaments  seen  from  the  outer  face  in  order  to  show  the  ciliated 
janctiona  e^.  B.  Diagram  of  the  posterior  (ace  of  a  single  complete  filament 
with  descending  ramus  and  ascending  ramus  ending  In  a  hook-like  process. 
fp.,  ep.,  the  ciliated  junctions  ;  iij.,  inter-lamellar  junction.  C.  Transverse 
section  of  a  filament  taken  so  as  to  cut  neither  a  ciliated  Junction  lior  an 
inter-lamellar  junction,  /.e.,  frontal  epithelium  ;  I./.e'.,  IJ.^'-,  the  two  rows 
of  latero-frontal  epithelial  ceils  with  long  cilia ;  cti,  chitonous  tubular  lining 
of  the  filament ;  inc.,  blood  lacnna  traversed  by  a  few  processes  Qf  connective 
tisane  cells ;  b.c,  Wood-corpuscle. 

composed  of  two  lauKllae,  an  outer  (the  reflected)  and  an 
adaxied  in  the  case  of  the  outer  gill-plate,  and  an  adaxial  and 
an  inner  (the  reflected)  in  the  case  of  the  inner  gill-plate. 
This  is  the  condition  seen  in  Area  and  Mytilus,  the  so- 
called  plates  dividing  upon  the  slightest  touch  into  their 
constituent  filaments,  which  are  but  loosely  conjoined  by 
their  "ciliated  jurctions."  Complications  follow  upon 
this  in  othet  ionns.  Even  in  Mytilus  and  Area. a  con- 
nexion is  here  and  there  formed  between  the  ascending 
and  descending  rami  of  a  filament  by  hollow  extensible 
outgrowths  called  "  interlamellar  junctions  "  {ilj  in  B,  fig. 
133).  Nevertheless  the  filament  is  a  complete  tube  formed 
of  chitonous  substance  and  clothed  externally  by  ciliated 
epithelium,  internally  by  endothelium  and  lacunar  tissue — 
a  form  of  eonnective  tissue — as  shown  in  fig.  133,  C. 
Now  let  us  suppose,  as  happens  in  the  genus  Dreissena — 
a  genus  not  far  removed  from  Mytilus — that  the  ciliated 
inter-filamentar  junctions  (fig.  136)  give  place  to  solid 
permanent  inter-filamentar  junction.^,  so  that  the  filaments 
are  converted,  as  it  were,  into  a  trellis-work.  Then  let  us 
suppose  that  the  inter-lamellar  junctions  which  we  have 
already  noted  in  Mytilus  become  very  numerous,  large, 
aad  irregular ;  by  them  the  two  trellis-works  of  filaments 
would  be  united  so  as  to  leave  only  a  sponge-like  set 
of  spaces  between  tiieii-..  Within  the  trabecule  of  the 
sponge-work  blood  circulates,  and  between  the  trabecule 
the  T-»t«  passes,  having  entered  by  the  apertures  left 


in  the   trellis-work   fbrmcd   by  the  united   gill-filaments 
(fig.  138.  A,  B).     The  larger  the  intra- lamellar  spongy 


Fio.  134.— structure  of  the  ctenidla  of  Kucula  (after  Mltanknri) ;  see  alaa 
fig.  2.  A.  Section  across  the  axis  of  a  ctenidium  with  a  pair  of  platea— 
fiattened  and  shortened  filaments -attached.,  i,  j,  1^  J  are  placed  on  or  near 
the  membrane  which  attaches  the  axis  of  the  ctenidium  to  the  side  of  the 
body ;  o,  b,  tree  extremities  of  the  plates  (filaments) ;  d,  midline  of  the 
inferior  border;  e,  surface  of  the  plate ;  (,  its  upper  border;  h,  chitonous 
lining  of  the  plate ;  t,  dilated  blood-space ;  «>  fibrous  tract ;  o,  upper  bl'iod- 
vessel  of  the  axis ;  n,  lower  blood-vessel  of  the  axis  ;  $,  chitonous  framework 
of  the  axis  ;  cp,  canal  in  the  same  ;  A,  B,  line  along  which  the  cross-section 
C  of  the  plate  is  taken.  B.  Animal  of  a  male  UuculeL  proximo.  Say,  as  seen 
when  the  left  valve  of  the  shell  and  the  left  half  of  the  mantle-skirt  are  re- 
moved.  a.a.,  anterior  adductor  muscle ;  r-o.,  posterior  adductor  muscle : 
r.Tn,  visceral  mass ;  /  foot ;  p,  gill ;  I,  labial  tentacle ;  i.o.,  filamentous 
appendage  of  the  labial  tentacle ;  Ih,  hood-like  appendage  of  the  labial  ten- 
tacle ;  m,  membrane  suspending  the  gill  and  attached  to  the  body  along  the 
line  X,  y,  z,w,  p,  posterior  end  of  the  gill  (ctenidium).  C.  Section  across 
one  of  the  gill-plates  (A,  B,  in  A)  comrarable  with  fig.  133,  C.  i.a.,  outer 
border;  d.a.,  axial  border:  I./.,  latero-frontal  epitheliom  ;  e,  epithelium  of 
general  surface  ;  r,  dilated  blood-space-;  h,  chitonous  lining  (compare  A). 

growth  becomes,  the  more  do  the  original  gill-filaments 
lose  the  character  of  blood-holding  tubes  and  tend  to 
become  dense  elastic  rods  for  the  simple  purpose  of  sup- 
porting the  spongy  ^owth.  This  is  seen  both  in  the 
section  of  Dreissena  gill  (fig.  136)  and  La  those  of  Anodon 
(fig.  137,  A,  B,  C).  In  the  drawing  of  Dreissena  the 
individual  filaments/,  /,  /  are  cut  across  in  one  lamella  at 
the  horizon  of  an  inter-filamentar  junction,  in  the  other 
(lower  in  the  figure)  at  a  point  where  they  are  free.  "  The 
chitonous  substance  ch  is  observed  to  be  greatly  thick'Pned 
as  compared  with,  what  it  is  in  fig.  133,  C,  tending  in 
fact  to  obliterate  altogether  the  lumen  of  the  filament. 
And  in  Anodon  (fig.  137,  C)  this  obliteration  is  efiected.  In 
Anodon,  besides  being  thickened,  the  skeletal  substance  of 
the  filament  develops  a  specially  dense  rod-like  body  on 
each  side  of  each  filament.  Although  the  structure  of  the 
ctenidium  is  thus  highly  complicated  in  Anodon,  it  is  yet 
more  so  in  some  of  the  Siphon.ite  genera  of  Lamellibranch-s. 
The  filaments  take  on  a  secondary  grouping,  the  surface  of 
the  lamella  being  thrown  into  a  series  of  half-cylindrical 
ridges,  each  consisting  of  ten  or  twenty  filaments ;  a  filament 
XVI.  —  67 


6.9Q 


MOLLUSCA 


[LAilEIXraRANCHUL 


of  much  greater  strength  and  thickness  than  the  others  may 
be  placed  between  each  pair  of  groups.     In  Anodon,  as  in 


and  to  one  anolher.  A  shows  tv/o  conditions  with  free  giU-axis ;  B, 
ditioD  at  foremost  region  in  Anodon  ;  C,  hind  region  of  foot  in  Anodon ;  D, 
legion  altogether  posterior  to  the  foot  in  Anodon.  a,  visceral  mass  ;  h,  foot ; 
c,  mantle  flap ;  d,  axis  of  gill  or  ctenidiuni ;  c,  adaxial  lamella  of  outer  gill- 
plate  :  er,  reflected  lamella  of  outer  gill-plate ;  /  adaxial  lameUa  of  inner 
gill-plate  ;  fr,  reflected  lamella  of  inner  gill-plate  ;  g,  line  of  concrescence  of 
tlie  reflected  lamellfs  of  the  two  inner  gill-plates ;  h,  rectum ;  i,  supra-branchial 
space  of  the  svib-pallial  chamber.    (Original.) 

many  other  Lamellibrancbs,  the  ova  and  hatched  embryos 
are  carried  ior  a  tinie  in  the  ctenidia  or  giU  apparatus,  and 
in  this  particular  case  the  space  between  the  two  lameDse 


Fio  136  — T-  -i^\  r  fit  cti  n  nf  0  e  filter  gill  plnt^  nf  TVeUiena  pohimorpha 
(after  He li-tan  I*cck),  /,  constituent  gill  filaments  ,  /,  fibrous  sub  epidermic 
tissue;  eh,  oliitoni^us  substance  of  the  filaments;  ncA,  cells  related  to  the 
cliitonons  substjinco ;  lac,  lacunar  tissue ;  pip,  pigment-cells ;  be,  blood- 
corpusclcii ;  Je,  frontal  oplthoHum  ;  (/«',  Ife",  two  rows  of  latero-frontal  epi- 
thelial cells  with  long  cilia  ;  Ir/,  fibrous,  poscibly  muscular,  substance  of  tJie 
later-dlamentcr  juncltons. 

of  the  outer  gill-plate  is  that  which  serves  ij  receive  the 
ova  (fig.  1 37,  A).     The  young  are  nourished  by  a  substance 


formed  by  the  ceils  •which  cover  the  spongy  inter-U;mel]2.r 
outgrowths. 

There  are  certain  other  points  in  the  modification  of  the 
typical  ctenidium  which  must  be  noted  in  order  to  under- 
stand the  ctenidium  of  Anodon.  The  a-s'is  of  each  ctenid- 
ium, right  and  left,  starts  from  a  point  well  forward  near 
the  labial  tentacles,  but  it  is  at  first  only  a  ridge,  and  does 
not  project  as  a  free  cylindrical  axis  until  the  back  part  of 


Fio.  137.— Transverse  sections  of  gill-plates  of  Anodon  (after  PeClc).  A.  Outer 
gill-plate.  B.  Inner  gill-plate.  C.  A  portion  of  B  more  highly  magnified. 
c.l,  outer  lamella;  i.^  inner  lamella;  v,  blood-vessel:  /,  constituent  fila- 
ments ;  tuc,  lacunar  tissue ;  cA,  chitonous  substance  of  the  filament ;  cAr, 
chitouous  rod  embedded  in  the  softer  substance  eft. 

the  foot  is  reached.  This  is  difficult  to  see  at  all  in  Ano- 
don, but  if  the  mantle-.skirt  be  entirely  cleared  away,  and 
if  the  dependent  lamella;  which  spring  from  the  ctenidia' 
axis  be  carefully  cropi)ed  away  so  as  to  leave  the  axis  itsell 
intact,  we  obtain  the  form  shown  in  fig.  131,  where  ^  and 
h  are  re.spectively  the  left  and  the  right  ctenidial  axes  pro- 
jecting freely  beyond  the  body.  In  Area  this  can  be  seen 
with  far  le.ss  trouble,  for  the  filaments  are  more  easily  re- 
moved than  are  the  consolidated  lamella;  formed  by  the 
filaments  of  Anodon,  and  in  Area  the  free  axes  of  the 
ctenidia  are  large  and  firm  in  textm'6  (fig.  132,  <•,  d). 

If  we  were  to  make  a  vertical  section  across  the  long 
axis  of  a  Lamellibranch  which  had  the  axis  of  its  ctenidium 
free  from  its  origin  onwards,  we  should  find  such  relations 
as  are  shown  in  the  diagram  fig.  lo3,  A.  The  gill  axis  d 
is  seen  Ijing  in  the  sul>pallia!  chamber  between  the  foot 
b  and  the  mantle  c.  From  it  depend  the  gill-filaments  or 
lamelliB — formed  by  united  filaments — drawn  as  black  lines 
/.  On  the  loft  side  these  lamell;c  are  represented  as  hav- 
ing only  a  small  reflected  growth,  on  the  right  side  the 
reflected  ramus  or  lamella  is  complete  (fr  and  er).  The 
actual  condition  in  Anodon  at  the  region  where  the  gills 
commence  anteriorly  is  shown  in  fig.  135,  B.  The  axis  of 
the  ctenidium  is  seen  to  be  adherent  to,  or  fused  by  con- 
crescence with,  the  body-wall,  and  moreover  on  each  side 
the  outer  lamella  of  the  outer  gUI-plate  is  fused  to  the 
mantle,  whilst  the  inner  lameUa  of  the  inner  gill-plate  is 
fused  to  the  foot.  If  we  pass  a 'little  backwards  and  take 
another  section  nearer  the  liinder  margin  of  the  *"ot,  wa 


LAMZLLIBR  ANCEU.  ] 


M  0  L  L  U  S  C  A 


691 


get  the  arrange'nent  shown  diagrammatically  in  fig.  135, 
C,  and  more  correctly  in  fig.  142.  In  this  region  the  inner 
Jamellse  of  the  inner  gill-plates  are  no  longer  affixed  to  the 
foot.     Passing  still  further  back  behind  the  foot,  we  find 


Tie.  138. — GiU-Tamellse  of  Anodon  ^fter  Peck).  A.  t'ragment  of  the  enter 
Uihclla  of  an  inner  giU-plate  torn  u-om  the  coilnected  inner  lamella,  the  aab- 
flLimentar  tissue  also  partly  cut  away  round  the  edges  so  as  to  expose  the 
filaments,  their  transverse  junctions  ^r,  and  the  "windows"  left  in  the  lattice- 
work ;  ife,  internal  surface  of  the  lamella ;  V,  vessel.  B.  Diagram  of  a  block 
cut  from  the  outer  lamella  of  the  enter  gill-plate  and  seen  irom  the  inter- 
lamellar  surface  fafter  Peck).  /  constituent  tilamenta ;  trf,  ilbrous  tissue  of 
the  transverse  inter-filamentar  junctions  ;  v,  blood-vessel ;  ilj,  inter-lamellar 
Junction.  The  series  of  oval  holes  on  the  back  of  the  lamella  are  the  water- 
pores  which  open  bet\7een  the  illaments  in  irregular  rows  separated  horizon- 
tally by  the  transverse  inter-filamentar  junctions. 

in  Anodon  the  condition  shown  in  the  section  D,  fig.  135. 
The  axes  t  are  now  free ;  the  outer  lamellae  of  the  outer 
gill-pIates  (^c)' still  adhere  by  concrescence  to  the  mantle- 
skirt,  whilst  the  inner  lamellaa  of  the  inner  gill-plates  meet 
one    another    and         a  » 

fuse    by    concres-  y^    "\ 

cence    at    ff.      In       //ni^     jt»\  /^     ^\ 

the  lateral  view  of  (j 
the    animal    with 
reflected     mantle-   '  i  ib'\     i^  hii  i  \ 

skirt     and     gill-      \\«  \y     "11  * :r-—^ 

plates,  the  line  of 

concrescence  of  the  , 

.  „  -  Fro.  139.— Transverse  sections  of  ^,  a  Lamellibranch, 

inner  lameUse  Ol  and  B,  an  Isopleurous  Gastropod  (Chiton),  to  show 
thft  innpr  mil-  the  relations  of  jj,  the  foot ;  &r,  the  branchiae  :  and 
'  ,  .  ^,rr       m,  the  mantle.    (From  Gegenbaur.) 

plates    13    readily 

seen;  it  is  marked  aa  in  fig.  124,  (.5).  In  the  same 
figure  the  free  part  of  the  inner  lamella  of  the  inner 
gOl-plate  resting  on  the  foot  is  marked  s,  whilst  the 
attached  part — the  most  anterior — has  been  snipped 
with  scissors  so  as  to  show  the  genital  and  nephridial 
apertures  x  and  v.  The  concrescence,  then,  of  the 
free  edge  of  the  reflected  lamelise  of  the  gill-plates  of 
Anodon  is  very  extensive.  It  is  important,  because  such 
a  concrescence  is  by  no  means  universal,  and  does  not 
occur,  for  example,  in  Mytilus  or  in  Area ;  further,  because 


''W     ^" 


when  its  occurrence  ;.^  o.-.ce  appreciated,  the  reduction  of 
the  gill-pIates  of  Anode  a  to  the  plume-typa  of  the  simplest 
ctenidium  presents  no  difficulty;  and,  lastly,  it  has  import- 
ance in  reference  to  its  physio-  .  . . 
logical  significance.  The  me-  "'-^ 
chanical  result  of  the  concres- 
cence of  the  outer  lamellae  to 
the  mantle-flap,  and  of  the 
inns?  lamellcs  to  one  another 
as  shown  in   section    D,  fig. 

135,   is  that   the  sub-pallial     ''""  

space    is    divided    into    two  m'-r      ^ 

spaces    by   a    horizontal    sep- Fio.  UO Lateral  view  of  a  Moctra, 

turn  Thfl  iirmor  ^nacR  li\  the  right  valve  of  thashell  and  right 
lum.  ine  upper  space  [l)  „,r.ntlc.aap  removed,  and  the  si- 
COmmUnicateS  with   the  outer      phons  reh-acted.    br,  br',  outer  and 

1 J   1.      ii,  .  inner  gill-piates ;  (,  labial  tentacle ; 

world  by  the  excurrent  or  SU-     to, ;,-,  upper  .-vnd  lower  siphons ;  ms, 
perior   siphonal    notch    of    the      siphonal  muscle  of  the  mantle-aap ; 
1     /£      1  n  i    j\       11  ""'  ^n'firior  aaductor  muscle ;  mp, 

mantle  (ng.  124,  «);  the  lower  posterior  adductor  muscle  ;  p,  foot ; 
space  communicates  by  the  '• '™'«-  C^om  Oeaenb^ur.) 
lower  siphonal  notch  (e  in  fig.  124).  The  only  communica- 
tion between  the  two  spaces,  excepting  through  the  treliis- 
work  of  the  gill-plates,  is  by  the  slit  (s  in  fig.  124,  (5))  left 
by  the  non-concrescence  of  a  part  of  the  inner  lamella  of  the 
inner  gill-plate  with  the  foot.  A  probe  (17)  is  introduced 
through  this  slit-like  passage,  and  it  is  seen  to  pass  out  by 
the  excurrent  siphonal  notch.  It  is  through  this  passage, 
or  indirectly  through  the  pores  of  the  gill-plates,  that  the 
water  introduced  into  the  lower  sub-pallial  space  must  pass 
on  its  way  to  the  excurrent  siphonal  notch.  Such  a 
subdivision  of  the  pallial  chamber,  and  direction  of  the 


Fio.  141.— The  same  animal  as  flg.  140,  •      i  '  -nd  siphons  expanded. 

Letters  as  in  flg.  140.    (F -or.i  Gegenbaur.) 

currents  set  up  within  it  do  not  exist  in  a  number  of 
Lamellibranchs  which  have  the  giU-lameUse  comparatively 
free  (Mytilus,  Area,  Trigonia,  &c.),  and  it  is  in  these  forms 
that  there  is  least  modification  by  concrescence  of  the  pri- 
mary filamentous-  elements  of  the  lamellae.  Probably  the 
gill -structure  of  Lamellibranchs  will  ultimately  furnish 
some  classificatory  characters  of  value  when  they  have 
been  thoroughly  investigated  throughout  the  class. 

The  alimentary  canal  of  Anodon  is  shown  in  fig.  124,  (4). 
The  mouth  is  placed  between  the  anterior  adductor  and 
the  foot ;  the  anus  opens  on  a  median  papilla  overlying 
the  posterior  adductor,  and  discharges  into  the  superior 
pallial  chamber  along  which  the  excurrent  stream  passes. 
The- coil  of  the  intestine  in  Anodon  is  similar  to  that  of 
other  Lamellibranchs,  but  the  crystalline  style  and  its 
diverticulum  are  not  present  here.  The  rectum  traverses 
the  pericardium,  and  has  the  ventricle  of  the  heart  wrapped, 
as  it  were,  around  it.  This  is  not  an  unusual  arrangement 
in  Lamellibranchs,  and  a  similar  disposition  occurs  in  some 
Gastropoda  (HaUotis).  A  pair  of  ducts  (ai)  lead  from  the 
first  enlargement  of  the  alimentary  tract  called  stomach 
into  a  pair  of  large  digestive  glands,  the  so-called  liver, 
the  branches  of  which  are  closely  packed  in  this  region 
(n/).  The  food  of  the  Anodon,  as  of  other  Lamellibranchs, 
consists  of  microscopic  animal  and  vegetable  organisms, 
which  are  brought  to  the  mouth  by  the  stream  which  sets 
into  the  sub-pallial  chamber  at  the  lower  siphonal  notch 
(e  in  fig.  124).     Probably  a  straining  of  water  fiom  solid 


C9i 


M  O  L  L  U  S  C  A 


[l  Asnxi.nsR  a:s'  ohlv. 


particles  is  effected  by  tLe  latt?.ce-wcrk  of  the  ctenidia  cr 
gi!l-plates. 

The  heart  of  Anodon  consists  of  a  median  ventricle  em- 
bracing the  rectum  (fig.  143,  A),  and  giving  ofi'an  anterior 
and  a  posterior  o.rtory,  and  of  two  auiicles  which  open  into 
the  ventricle  by  orifices  protected  by  valves. 

The  blood  is  colourless,  and  has  colourleE.^  amoeboid 
corpuscles  floating  in  it.  In  two  Lamellibranchs,  Solen 
(Ceratisolen)  hgumen  and  Area  Koie,  the  blood  is  crimson, 
owing  to  the  presence  of  corpuscles  impregnated  with 
hjemoglobin  (Lankester,  31).  In  Ajiodon  the  blood  is 
driven  by  the  ventricle  through  the  arteries  into  vessel- 
like  spaces,  wliich  soon  become  irregular  lacunae  surround- 
ing the  viscera,  but  in  p.irts — e.ff.,  the  labial  tentacles  and 
walla  of  the  gut — verj'  fine  vessels  with  endothelial  cell- 
lining  are  found.  The  blood  makes  its  way  by  large 
veins  to  a  venous  sinus  which  lies  in  the  middle  line  be- 
low the  heart,  having  the  paired  rentil  organs  (nephridia) 
placed  between  it  and  that  organ.  Hence  it  passes 
through  the  vessels  of  the  glandular  walls  of  the  nephridia 
right  and  left  into  the  gill-lamella:,  whence  it  returns 
through  many  openings  into  the  widely-stretched  auricles, 
A  great  deal  more  pre- 
cision TnR  been  given  to 
accounts  of  the  structure 
of  arteries,  veins,  and 
capillaries  in  Anodou 
than  the  facts  warrant. 
The  course  of  tho  blood- 
stream can  only  be  somt- 
wbat  vaguely  inferred  ex- 
cept in  its  largest  out- 
lines. Distinct  arterial  j. 
and  venous  channels  can- 
not be  distinguished  iii 
the  gill-lamelite,  in  spite 
of  what  Langer  (58)  has 
written  on  the  subject, 
though  it  is  highly  prob- 
able^  that  there  issome  j.,^  n2._verti„i  section  throneh  ^  Ano- 

land  of  circulation  m  the  doiita,ataut  the  mid-region  of  the  toot,    m, 

cril's        Tn    ttiA    filiiTipnta  nmntle-ftap ;  br,  outer,  6V,  inner  gill-plate 

glUS.       in    ine    niamentS  _eachcociposcdoffr«-ol!imellEe;/,foot;  t>, 

of  the  gill  of  Mytiius  the  wntncle  of  the  heart ;  a,  anricle ;  y,  p\ 

.    1     ,    ^         .^_  .     J.    .1    J  pericardii;  cavity ;  I,  intestine. 

tubular  cavity  is  divided 

by  a  more  or  less  complete  fibrous  septum  into  two 
channels,  presumably  for  an  ascending  and  a  descend- 
ing blood-current.  The  ventricle  and  auricles  of  Anodon 
lie  in  a  pericardium  which  is  clothed  with  a  pave- 
ment endothelium  (d,  fig.  143).  Veins  are  said  by  Keber 
and  others  to  open  anteriorly  into  it,  but  thii  appears  to 
be  an  error.  It  does  not  contain  blood  or  communicate 
directly  with  the  blood-system ;  this  isolation  of  the  peri- 
cardium we  have  noted  already  in  Gastropo<U  and  Cephslo- 
pods.  A  good  case  for  the  examination  of  tho  quciition  as 
to  whether  blood  enters  the  pericardium  of  Lamellibranchs, 
or  escapes  from  the  foot,  or  by  the  renal  organs  when  the 
animal  suddenly  contracts,  is  furnished  by  the  Solen  Ice/u- 
men,  which  has  red  blood-corpuscles.  According  to  ob- 
servations made  by  Penrose  (53)  on  an  uninjured  Solen 
leffMmen,  no  red  corpuscles  are  to  be  seen  in  the  pericardial 
space,  although  the  heart  is  filled  with  them,  and  no  such 
corpuscles  are  ever  discharged  l)y  the  animal  when  it  is 
irritated. 

The  pair  of  nephridia  of  Anodon,  called  in  Lamelli- 
branchs the  organ  of  Bojanus,  lie  below  tlie  membranous 
floor  of  the  pericardium,  and  open  into  it  by  two  well- 
marked  aportm-es  (e  and/  in  fig.  143).  Each  nephridium, 
after  being  bent  upon  itself  as  shown  in  fig.  143,  C,  D, 
opens  to  the  exterior  by  a  pore  placed  at  the  point  marked 
X  in  fig.  124,  (5),  (6),     It  is  no  doubt  possible,  as  in  the 


Gastropoda  and  Cephalopoda,  for  water  to  enter  frcr::  the 
exterior  by  the  nephridia  into  the  pericardium,  but  that 
it  ever  does  so  is  as  yet  not  proved.  What  is  certain 
from  the  set  of  the  ciliarj-  currents  is  that  liquid  generally 


J,-       3 

Fin.  143. — Diagraina  showing  the  lelatiors  of  pericardium  end  LcrihriOIa;:.  a 
LdmaUibranch  such  as  Anodon.  A.  Peiicardium  opened  doisjjly  eo  a^  to 
expose  the  heart  and  the  floor  of  the  pericardial  chamber  d.  B.  Hcirt 
removed  and  floor  of  the  pericardium  cut  away  on  the  left  side  so  as  to  open 
the  non-glandular  sac  of  the  nephridium,  exposing  the  glandular  eac  6, 
which  is  also  cut  into  eo  as  to  show  the  probe  /.  C.  Ideal  pericardium  anil 
nephridium  viewed  laterally.  D.  Lateral  view  showing  the  actual  relation 
of  the  glandul.1T  and  non-glandular  sacs  ol  the  nephridium.  The  arrows 
indicate  the  course  of  fluid  from  the  pericardium  oucwards.  c.  ventricle  «f 
the  heart ;  h,  auricle ;  6b,  cut  i-emnant  of  th-3  a-,iricle ;  c,  dorsal  wall  of  tho 
pericardium  cut  and  reiiccted ;  e,  reno-pericardicl  ori3ce ;  /,  probe  inti'O- 
duced  into  the  left  reno-pericsrdial  oriCce ;  ff,  non-glanduloT  sac  of  the  loft 
nephridium;  A,  glandular  sac  of  the  left  nephridi'jm;  i,  pcre  leading  £:om 
the  glandular  into  the  non-glandular  sac  of  the  left  nephridium;  k,  por« 
leading  from  the  non-glandular  sac  to  the  e,xterior ;  ac,  anterior,  ab,  po.stenor, 
cut  r 


nts  of  the  intestine  and  ventricle. 


passes  out  of  the  pericardium  by  the  nephridia.  One  half 
of  each  nephridium  is  of  a  dark-green  colour  and  glandular 
(h  in  fig.  143).  This  opens  into  the  reflected  portion  which 
overlies  it  as  shown  in  the  diagram  fig.  143,  D,  t ;  the  latter 
has  non-glandular  walls,  and  opens  by  the  pore  k  to  the 
exterior.  The  nephridia  may  be  more  ramified  in  other 
Lamellibranchs  than  they  are  in  Anodon.  In  some  they 
are  difiicult  to  discover.  That  of  the  conmion  oyster 
has  recently  (1882)  been  detected  by  Hoek  (54),  Each 
nephridium  in  the  oyster  is  a  pjTiform  sac,  which  commu- 
nicates by  a  narrow  canal  with  the  urino-genital  groove 
placed  to  the  front  of  tho  great  adductor  muscle ;  by  a 
second  narrow  canal  it  comm.unicates  with  the  pericardium. 
From  all  parts  of  the  pyriform  sac  narrow  stalk-Uke  tubes 
are  given  off,  ending  in  abundant  widely-spread  branching 
glandular  caeca,  which  form  the  essential  renal  secreting 
apparatus.  The  genital  duct  opens  by  a  pore  into  tho 
uriuo-genita!  groove  of  the  oyster  (the  s^.me  Arrangement 
being  repeated  on  each  side  of  tho  body)  close  to  but  distinct 
from  the  aperture  of  the  ncphridial  canal.  Hence,  except 
for  the  formation  of  a  urino-genital  groove,  the  apei-tures 
are  placed  as  they  are  in  Anodon.  Previously  to  Ht>ek'* 
discovciy  a  brown-coloured  investment  of  the  aiiricles  of 
tho  heart  of  the  oyster  had  been  supposed  to  represent 
tho  nephridia  in  a  rudimentary  state.  This  icvcstiucnt, 
which  occurs  also  in  Mytiius  but  not  in  Anodon,  may  po.^- 
sibly  consist  of  secreting  cells,  and  may  be  comparable  t.^ 
tho  pericardial  accessory  glandular  growths  of  Cephalopoda. 
Jfervous  Syslem  and  Seme-orr/atis. — In  Anodon  then-  art- 
three  well-developed  pairs  of  nerve-ganglia  (fig.  144,  B  and 
fig.  1 24,  (6)).    An  anterior  pair,  lying  one  on  each  side  of  tho 


OAKELLIBRAJiCHlA. 

mouth  (fig.  144,  B,  a)  and  connected  in  front  of  it  by  a 
commissure,  are  the  representatives  of  the  cerebral,  pleural, 
and  visceral  ganglia  of  the  typical  Mollusc,  which  axe  not 
here  diiierentiated  as  they  are  in  Gastropods  (compare, 
however,  fig.  67).  A  pair  placed  close  together  in  the  foot 
(fig.  144,  B,  5,  and  fig. 
124,  (6),  cur)  are  the  typ- 
ical pedal  ganglia ;  they 
are  joined  to  the  cerebro- 
pleuio  -  visceral  ganglia 
by  connectives. 

Posteriorly  beneath 
the  posterior  adductors, 
and  covered  only  by  a 
thin  layer  of  elongated 
epidermal  cells,  are  the 
olfactory  ganglia,  their 
epidermal  clothing  con- 
stituting the  pair  of  os- 
phradia,  which  are  thus 
seen  in  Lamellibranchs 
to  occupy  their  typical 
position  and  to  have  the 
typical  innervation,- — the 


MOELUSCA 


693 


lUm    beine   given   off  by  Teredo  ;  B,  ot  Asodonta ;  C,  of  Pecten. 

,*  .        "^  ,°  ,.  "^  cerebral    ganglion-pair    (=cerebro-pleui'o- 

ttie   visceral    ganglion vlsceraJ) ;  t,  pedal  ganglion-psir  ;  c,  olfac- 

that    is    to     say,    by    the  tory  (oaphratfia!)  ganglion-paij. 

•undifferentiated  ,cerebro-pleuro-visceral  ganglion  of  its 
proper  side.  This  identification  of  the  posterior  gangliou- 
,paii'  of  Lamellibranchs  is  due  to  Spengel  (11)..     Othej 


Fio.  145. — PalJial  eyo  of  Spondylna  (from  Hlckson).  a,  pwB-corneal  epithe- 
fip^n ;  b,  cfiUnlar  lens ;  c,  retinal  body ;  d,  tapetam  *,  e,  pigment ;  /  '.■etinal 
nerve ;  g,  complementary  nerve ;  h,  epithelial  cells  fllled  with  "pi^ent ;  k, 
tehtacle 

anatomists  have  considered  this  ganglion-pair  as  corre- 
sponding to  either  the  pleural  or  the  visceral  of  Gastropoda, 
or  to  both,  and  very  usually  it  is  termed  "the  parieto- 
splanchnic"  (Huxley). 

The  sense-organs  of  Anodon  other  than  the  osphradia 
consist  of  a  pair  of  otocysts  attached  to  the  pedal  ganglia 
{fig.  124,  (6),  ay).  The  otocysts  of  Cyclas  are  peculiarly 
favourable  for  study  on  account  of  the  transparency  of  the 
small  foot  in  which  they  lie,  and  may  be  taken  as  typical 
of  those  of  Lamellibranchs  generally.  The  structure  of 
one  is  exhibited  in  fig.  146.  A  single  otolith  is  present 
as  in  the  veliger  embryos  of  Opisthobranchia.  In  adult 
Gastropoda  there  are  frequently  a  large  number  of  rod-like 
tjtoliths  instead  of  one. 

Anodon  has  no  eyes  of  any  sort,  and  the  tentacles  on  the 
mantle  edge  are  limited  to  its  posterior  border.  This 
ieficiency  is  very  usual  in  the  class;  at  the  same  time,  many 
Lamellibranchs  have  tentacles  on  the  edge  of  the  mantle 
supplied  by  a  pair  of  large  well-developed  nerves,  which 
are  gi  ven  off  from  the  cci'ebro-pleuro- visceral  ganglion-pair, 


Fia.   146. — Otocyst 


and  very  frequently  some  of  these  tentacles  have  undergone 
a  fecial  metamorphosis  converting  them  into  highly- 
organized  eyes.  Such  eyes  on  the  mantle-edge  are  found 
in  Pecten,  Spondylus,  Lima,  Ostrea  (?),  Pinna,,  .Pectxmculus, 
Modiola,  Mytilua  ('!),  Cardium,  Telhna, 
Mactra,  Venus,  Solen,  Pholas,  and  Qa- 
leomma.  They  are  totally  distinct  from 
the  cephalic  eyes  of  typical  Moliusca,  and 
have  a  different  structure  and  historical  de- 
velopment. They  have  not  originated  as 
pits  but  as  tentacles.  They  agree  with  the , 
dorsal  eyes  of  .Onchidium  (Pulmonata)  in  of  Cycias^\&oi 
the  curious  fact  that  the  optic  nerve  pene-  ^^ni^'^^^iiiatM 
trates  the  capsule  of  the  eye  and  passes  in  cells  lining  the 
front  of  the  retinal  body  (fig.  145),  so  that  °'"°'  °'  °*°"'''- 
its  fibres  join  the  anterior  faces  of  the  nerve-end  cells  as 
in  Vertebrates,  instead  of  their  posterior  faces  as  in.  the 
cephalic  eyes  of  Moliusca  and  Arthropoda ;  moreover,  the 
lens  is  not  a  cuticular  product  but  a  cellular  structure, 
which,  again,  is  a  feature  of  agreement  vrith  the  Vertebrate 
eye.  It  must,  however,  be  distinctly  borne  in  mind  that 
there  is  a  fundamental  difference  between  the  eye  of  Verte- 
brates and  of  all  other  groups  in  the  fact  that  in  the 
Vertebrata  the  retinal  body  is  itself  a  part  of  the  central 
nei-vous  system,  and  not  a  separate  modification  of  the 
epidefmis — -myelonic  as  opposed  to  epidermic.  The  struc- 
ture of  the  reputed  eyes  of  several  of  the  above-named 
genera  has  not  been  carefully  examined.  In  Pecten  and 
Spondylus,  however,  they  have  been  fully  studied  (see  fig. 
145,  and  explanation). 

The  gonads  of  Anodon  are  placed  in  distinct  male  and 
female  individuals.  In  some  Lamellibranchs — for  instance, 
the  European  Oyster  and  the  Pisidium  pusillum — the  sexeS 
are  linited  in  the  same  individual;  but  here,  as  in  most 
hermaphrodite  animals,  the  two  sexual  elements  are  not 
ripe  in  the  same  individual  at  the  same  miomeut.  It  has 
been  conclusively  shown  that  the  Ostred  edulis  does  not 
fertilize  itself.  The  American  Oyster  (0.  virginiana)  and 
the  Portuguese  Oyster  (0.  angxdcUa)  have  the  sexes  sepa-, 
rate,  and  fertilization  is  effected  in  the  open  water  after 
the  discharge  of  the  ova  and  the  spermatozoa  from  the 
females  and  males  respectively.  In  the  Ostrea  edulis  fertil- 
ization of  the  eggs  is  effected  at  the  moment  of  their  escape 
from  the  uro-genital  groove,  or  even  before,  by  means  of 
spermatozoa  drawn  into  the  sub-paUial  chamber  by  the  in- 
current  ciliary  stream,  and  the  embryos  pass  through  the 
early  stages  of  development  whilst  entangled  between  the 
gill-lamelhe  of  the  female  parent  (fig.  6).  In  Anodon  the 
eggs  pass  into  the  space  between  the  two  lamellae  of  the 
outer  gill-plate,  and  are  there  fertilized,  and  advance  whilst 
A         r.,  _    B 


•j>-a4 


Fio.  147. — Two  stages  in  the  development  of  Anodonta  (from  Balfour).  Both 
tlgilres_  represent  the  glochidium  stage.  A.  when  free  swimming,  shows  t^ 
two  dentigerons  valves  widely  open.  B,  a  later  stage,  afttr  ftxture  to  the  fla 
of  a  fish.  9h,  shell ;  ad,  adductor  muscle  ;  »,  teeth  of  the  shell ;  6^,  byssiu ; 
a.ad,  anterior  addnctor  ;  p.ad,  posterior  adductor ;  m(,  mantle-flap ;  /  foot ; 
br,  branchial  filaments  ;  au.t>,  otocyst ;  aX,  alimentary  canal. 

still  in  this  position  to  the  glochidium  phase  of  develop^ 
ment  (fig.  147).  They  may  be  found  here  in  thousands) 
in  the  summer  and  autumn  months.  The  gonads  them^ 
selves  are  extremely  simple  arborescent  glands  which  open 
to  the  exterior  by  two  simple  ducts,  one  ri^ht  and  ont 


694 


MOLLUSCA 


[LAilELLrBEAJfC3 


left,  contitftioua  with  the  wall  of  the  tubular  branches  of 
the  gland  (fig.  124,  (5),  (6),  y).  In  no  Lamdlibiunch  is 
there  a  divergence  from  this  structure,  excepliiig  that  ia 
some  (Ostrea)  the  contiguous  nephridial  and  the  genital 
aperture  are  sunk  in  a  m-ino-gcnital  ((jroove,  v/hich  in  other 
cases  (Spondylus  ?)  may  partiaUy  close  up  so  as  to  con- 
stitute a  single  pore  for  the  nephridial  and  genital  ducts. 
No  accessory  genital  glands  are  present. 

The  development  of  Anodon  is  remarkable  for  tho  curious 
larval  form  known  as  Glochidimn(f'2.  147).  The  Glochidium 


Pig.  148. — Embryos  of  Pisidium  pjw.7h!m  (after  Lanbester).  A.  Only  foar 
embryoDic  cells  flxe  preseot,  still  encloaed  in  the  epg  envelope.  B.  The  cells 
have  multiplied  aatl  commencsd  to  invugiaate,  formins  a  blastopore  or  oriflce 
of  invagination,  M. 

quits  the  gill-pouch  of  its  parent  and  Bwims  by  alternate 
opening  and  shutting  of  tho  valves  of  its  shell,  as  do 
adult  Pecten  and  Lima,  trailing  at  the  same  time  a  long 


Fig.  150. 

Fio.  140.— Embryo  of  PisWium  pusilhtin  in  the  di  jtula  stage,  surface  view 
(after  Lajiko3ter).  The  embryo  has  increased  in  size  by  accumulation  of 
liquid  bctweea  the  outer  and  tho  Invaginatca  cells.  The  blastopore  has 
closed. 

Flo.  l&O. — B.  Same  embryo  na  flfj.  140,  In  optical  metllan  eection,  showinjj  the 
invaylnated  cells  fty  which  form  tho  arch-enterc.n,  and  tho  mesoblastic  ceils 
mt  wliich  arc  budded  olf  from  the  nurfaca  of  tlio  mass  ftu,  and  apply  them- 
BOlvci:  to  tho  inner  surface  of  tlio  dtric  or  epiblaicic  cell-layer  ep,  C.  The 
same  embrj'o  focused  so  na  to  show  the  mesoblastlc  ceils  which  immediately 
uiidc.-lie  the  outer  celMaycr. 

byssus  thread.     By  this  it  is  brought  into  contact  with  the 
fin  of  £,  fich,  exMii  a:3  Tcich,  Stickleback,  or  others,  and  effects 


a  hold  thereon  by  means  of  the  toothed  edge  of  its  shells. 
Hera  it  beccinc-3  encysted,  and  is  nourished  by  the  exuda- 
tions of  the  fish.  A  distinct  devebpiaent  of  its  internal 
organs  has  been  tvacsd  by  the  lato  Professor  Balfour,  bvit  no 
one  has  followed  it  to  the  moment  at  which  ii  diop.'i  from 
the  fish's  fin  and  assumes  the  form  of  shell  characteristic  of 
the  parent.  Other  LaineUibranche  exhibit  either  a  trocho- 
sphere  larta  \rJiich  becomes  a  Yeliger,  differing  only  from 
tho  Gastropod's  and  Pteropod's  Veliger  in  haviug  bilateral 
shell-calcifications  instead  of  a  single  central  one ;  or,  like 
Anodon,  they  may  develop  within  tho  gill-plates  of  the 
mot.'ior,  though  without  presenting  such  a  specialized  larva, 
as  the  Glochidium.    An  example  of  the  former  is  seen  in  the 


Fio.  151. — Further  stpges  in  tho  develop^ncnt  cf  Pi 
Lankester).  A.  Optiail  section  of  an  embryo  in  which  the  foot  h-is  b^^-jn  V 
develop.  B.  The  same  embryo  focased  to  its  surface  plane  to.^Lj.v  t.. 
moutli  0.  C.  Later  embryo,  showing  the  sbeU-glnnd  Sj").  D.  Lateral  vlciv  <  [ 
the  same  eral-ryo.  E.  Later  stage,  withrudimonta  of  the  mantle-flap,  latvr.i 
view.  P.  Still  later  stage,  with  sheU-valves  and  branchial  filameiils.  r;- 
epiblast;  me,  mcsoblast;  (d,  mot-enteron ;  rp,  rectal  peduncle  or  pedicle  o: 
invagination  connecting  the  met-cntoron  with  the  cicfCrix  of  the  bUstopore  , 
0,  mouth;  p/i,  piiaryux ;  s\  shell-eland;  n;?i,  mantle-flap;  &r,  braachiai 
filaments  ;  y,  granular  cells  of  doubmil  signiflcance ;  f,  vesicular  structlir- 
of  unknown  eignillcaucc. 

development  of  the  European  Oyster,  to  the  figure  of  whiol 
and  its  explanation  the  reader  is  specially  refen-ed  (iig.  6;. 
.An  example  of  the  latter  is  seen  in  a  common  iKtlc 
fresh-water  bivalve,  the  Pisidimn  pusilhim,  which  has  been 
studied  by  Lankester  (12).  The  successive  stages  of  tlie 
development  of  this  Lamellibranch  are  illustrated  ia  the 
woodcuts  figs.  148  to  153  inclusive.  These  should  be 
compared  with  the  figure."*  of  "  Gastropod  development 
(figs.  3,  4,  5,  7,  and  72**»),  Fig;  143  shovrs  tho  cleavage 
-of  tho  cgg<ell  into  four  (A);  and  at  a  later  stage  the  tucking 
in  of  seme  of  the  cells,  to  form  an  iijvaginated  series  (£), 


M  O  L  — M  O  L 


695 


The  embryonic  cells  continue  to  divide,  ana  form  an  oral 
vesicle  containing  liquid  (fig.  149);  within  this,  at  one  pole, 
13  seen  the  mass  of  invaginated  cells  (fig.  150,  hi/).  These 
invaginated  cells  are  the  arch-enteron  ;  they  proliferate  and 
give  oflf  branching  cells,  which  apply  themselves  (fig.  150, 
C)  to  the  inner  face  of  the  vesicle,  thus  forming  the  meso- 


ViO.  152.— Diagram  of  embryo  of  Pisidiuin  in  tlio  same  stago  as  E  in  fig.  T51. 
m,  mouth ;  /,  foot ;  ph,  pharynx ;  gs,  met-enteron  ;  pi,  rectal  pedunclo  OF 
pcdicl«  of  invagination ;  siu,  shell-gland.    (Prom  Lankcster.) 

blast  or  coelomic  outgrowths.  The  outer  single  layer  of 
cells  which  constitutes  the  surface  of  the  vesicle  (fig. 
147)  is  the  ectoderm  or  epiblast  or  deric  cell-layer.  The 
little  mass  of  hypoblast  or 


J^xf 


enteric  cell-mass  now 
largea,  but  remains  con- 
nected with  the  cicatrix  of 
the  blastopore  or  orifice  of 
invagination  by  a  stalk,  the 
rectal  peduncle  (fig.  151,  A, 
rpy.  The  enteron  itself  be- 
comes bilobed  ajid  is  joinel 
by  a  new  invagination,  that 
of  the  mouth  and  stomo- 
ds2ura,  ph.  Fig.  151,  E 
shows  the  origin  of  the 
mouth  o,  being  a  deeper 
view  of  the  same  specimen. Fio.iss.—Dia^amorcmbryootPisidium, 

,v                           -,•            V*  r.  in  same  stage  as  r  in  fig.  151  (after Lau- 

la  the  same  position  -wmcn  kester).  r.i,iuouth  ;  x,  anus;  /,  foot;  ftr, 

is    drawn    in    fig.     151,    A.  branchial  filaments ;  mn  margin  of  the 

°        ,   .    !•  mantle-skirt  •£,  organ  of  Bojanu3(ne- 

The     meSOblast     multipliea  'phridiuin_).     The  unshaded  area  gives 

its      cells,      which      become  the  position  of  the  sheU-valre. 

partly  muscular  and  partly  skeleto-trophic.  Centro-dor- 
sally  now  appears  the  embryonic  shell-gland  (fig.  151, 
C,  fk).  The  pharynx  or  stomodaeum  is  still  small,  the 
foot  not  yet  prominent.  A  later  stage  is  seen  in  fig. 
152,  where  the  pharynx  is  widely  open  and^tlie  foot  pro- 
minent. No  ciliated  velum  or  prie-oral  (cephaUc)  lobe 
ever  develops.  The  shell-gland  disappears,  the  mantle- 
skirt  is.  raised  as  a  ridge  (fig.  151,  E,  mn),  the  paired 
shell-valves  are  secreted,  the  anus  opens  by  a  proctodasal 
Ingrowth  into  the  rectal  peduncle,  and  the  rudiments  of 
the  gills  (br)  and  of  the  nephridia  (B)  appear  '^figs.  151, 
F,  and  "153,  dorsal  and  lateral  views  of  same  stage),  and 
thus  the  chief  organs  and  general  form  of  the  adult  are 


acquired.  Later  changes,  not  drawn  here,  consist  in  the 
growth  of  the  shell-valves  over  the  whole  area  of  the 
mantle-flaps,  and  in  the  multiplication  of  the  giU  fila- 
ments and  their  consolidation  to  form  gill -plates.  It 
is  important  to  note  that  the  gill-filaments  are  formed 
one  by  one  pocteriorlt/.  The  labial  tentacles  are  formed 
late.  In  the  allied  genus  Cyclas,  a  byssus  gland  is  formed 
in  the  foot  and  subsequently  disappears,  but  no  such  gland 
occurs  in  Pisidium.  The  nerve-ganglia  and  the  otocysts 
probably  form  from  thickenings  of  the  epiblaat,  but  detailed 
observation  on  this  and  other  points  of  histogenesis  in  the 
Lamellibranchia  is  still  wanting. 

List  of  Memoirs,  £c.,  referred  to  by  numbers  in  Vic  preceding  article.— O)  G. 
Cuvier,  Memoires  pour  urvir  a  l'histoir«  et  d  I'anatomie  dca  Mollusques,  Paris, 
1816.  (2)  J.  Poll,  Testacea  ■utrivsque  Sicilias,  eorumque  historia  et  anatomy, 
tahutis  aeneis  49  illustratOy  vols.  i.-Jii.,  fol.,  Parma,  1791-1795  and  1826-1827. 

(3)  St  delle  Chi^e,  Memorie  suila  storia  t  iwioxia  tfcpli  aiiinwit  unia  vert^hre 
del  regno  di  ^apoli,  Naplea,  1823-1829;  new  edit  withl72  plates,  fol.,  1S43. 

(4)  J.  Vaughan  Thompson,  Zoological  Ri-smrJies,  Cork,  1S30 ;  memoir  iv.,  "On 
the  Cirripedes  or  Barnacles,  demonstrating  their  deceptive  character."  (B)  A. 
Kowalewsky,  "Entwjckelungsgeschichte  der  einfachen  Ascidien,"  in  Mivn.  <*« 
r^cad.  des  Sciences  de  St  HUrsbourg,  18ti6,  and  "Entwickeliingsgescbichfe 
des  Amphiosms  lanceolatus,"  ibid.,  1867.  (6J  J.  Vaugban  Thompson,  Zoological 
Researches,  Cork,  1830;  memoir  v.,  "Polyzoa,  a  new  animal  discovered  as 
an  inhabitant  of  some  Zoophytes."  (7)  C.  G.  Ehrenberg,  Die  Eoralleiukitn  d-.s 
Rothcn  Mecres,  Berlin,  1834  {Abhand.  d.  lu  Akad.  d.  Wissenschaflen  t:i  Berlin, 
1S32).  (8)  H.  Milne-Edwards,  Sechcrclies  anatoiii.tques  physiologimus  et  zool'-- 
giques  Eur  Us  Polyviers  de  France,  Paris,  1841-1844.  (9)  W.  H.  Caldwell,  "Oj 
the  development  of  Phoronis,"  Proc.  Hoy.  Soc.,  1882.  (10)  Richard  Owen,  Memo.:- 
on  the  Pearly  Nautilus,  London,  1832.  (U)  T.  H.  Huxley,  "  On  the  morpholoev 
of  the  cephalou3  Molliisca,"  Phil.  Trans.,  1853.  (12)  E.  Ray  Lankester,  "Cou- 
tributions  to  the  developmental  history  of  the  Jlollusca,"  Phil.  Trans.,  1875. 
(13)  E.  Ray  Lankester,  "Notes  on  Embryology  and  Classification,"  Qvcrt.' 
Journ.  Microsc.  Sc,  1877.  (14)''J.  Carriere,"Das  ■Wassergefass-Syst^md.  Lauislii- 
branchiaten  u.  Gaatropoden, "  Zoolog.  Anzciger,  1881,  No.  90.  (lii)  B.  Rrty 
Lankester,  "  Development  of  the  Pond-Snai'.,"  Quart.  Journ.  Microsc.  Sc,  1874, 
and  "SheU-gland  of  Cyclas  and  Planula  of  LinmBeus,"  ibid.,  1876.  (16)  E. 
Horst,  "Development  of  the  European  Oyster,"  Quart.  Journ.  Microsc.  Sr.., 
1S82,  p.  341.  (17)  E.  Ray  Lankester,  "Coincidence  of  the  blastopore  and 
anus  in  Paludina,"  Quart.  Journ.  Microsc.  Sc,  1876.  ^18)  Id.,  "Zoolosical 
Observations  made  at  Naples,"  Anttals  aiwi  Mag.  Nat.  hist.,  February,  1S73, 
(19)  W.  K.  Brooks,  "  Development  of  the  American  Oyster,"  lUport  of  the 
Commissioners  of  Fisheries  of  Maryland,  18£0.  (20)  Henri  Milne-Ed warxls, 
Papers  in  the  Annates  des  Sciences  Naturelks,  1S41-1860.  (ZL)  H.  de  Lacaze 
Duthiers,  Papers  in  the  4nncUes  des  Sciences  NatureV.cs,  e.g.,  *'  Anemia"  (1854), 
"Mj-tilus"(1856),"Dentalium"(1856,18S7),"Purpura"(1869),"Haliotis"(18i9), 
"  Vermetus"  (1860).  (22)  A.  Kolllkor,  Bntwickelungsgeschickle  dcr  Cephalopoden, 
Zurich,  1844.  (23)  C.  Gegenliaur,  Untei-iftchungen  iiber  Pteropoden  vnd  Hetirc- 
poden,  L/eipsic,  J855.  (34)  J.  W.  SpcngeH/'  Die  Geruchsorgane  und  das  Neiven- 
eystem  der  MoUusken,"  Zeitschr.  f.  vnss.  Zool.',  ISfil.  (25)  A-  A.  W.  Hubrecht, 
"On  Proneomcnia  SJiuUrt  nov.  gen.  et  sp.,  witli  remarks  upon  the  anafODiy 
and  histology  of  the  Amphineura,"  Niederldndisckes  Archivfiir  ^oologie,  supple- 
ment volume,  1831.  (28)  Adam  Sedgwick,  "On  certain  points  in  the  anatomy 
of  Chiton,"  Proc  Roy.  Soc.  Lond.,  1881.  (27)  E.  Ray  Lankester,  "On  some 
undescribed  points  in  the  anatomy  of  the  Limpet,"  Annals  aiul  Maq.  Nat, 
History,  1867 ;  J.  T.  Cunningham,  "  The  Renal  Organs  of  Patella,"  Quart.' Journ. 
Microsc.  Sc,  1883.  (23)  P.  Fraisse,  "  Ueber  MoUuskpnaugen  mit  cmbryonalcm 
Tynus,"  Zeitschr.  /.  \oiss.  Zool.;  1831..  (29)  L.  v.  Graif,  "  Ueber  Rhodope  Vcranii, 
Kbll.,"  Morpholog.  Jahrb.,  voL  viii.  (30) H.  Simroth,  "Das  FassDcn-engystem 
der  Paludina  vivipara,"  Zeitschr.  f.  xoiss.  Zool.,  1881.  (31)  E.  Ray  Lankestei", 
"A  contribution  to  the  knovrledge  of  Haemoglobin,"  Proc.  Roy.  Soc  Lond., 
1873.  (32)  H.  de  Lacare  Duthiers,  "Du  syst^me  ner\'eux  dea  MoUiisciues 
Gasteropodes  Pulmones  aquatiques  et  d'un  nouvel  organe  d'innen'ation,"  j4rcA,. 
de  Zoologit  expcrimenUile,  voL  i.  (33)  C.  Semper,  Animal  Life  (for  eye  'of 
Onchidium,  p.  371),  International  Scientific  eeries,  1881.  (34)  Same  as  number 
18.  (35)  E.  Ray  Lankester,  "  Observations  on  the  development  of  the  Cep!mlo- 
poda.  Quart.  Journ.  Microsc  Sc,  1875.  (36)  J.  Tan  der  Hoeven,  "Bijdrage 
tot  de  outleedkuudige  kennis  aangaaende  Nautilus  pompilivs,"  Verhandl.  d. 
K.  Alxid.  V.  Wet.  Naiurk.,  Amsterdam,  1850.  (37)  B.  Kay  Lankester  and  A.  G. 
Bourne,  "  On  the  existence  of  Spengel's  olfactory  organ  and  of  paired  geuitil 
ducts  in  the  Pearly  Nautilus,"  Quart.  Journ.  Microsc.  Sc,  1883.  (38)  J.  VT. 
Vigelius,  "Ueber  das  Bxci-etions-Syalera  der  Cephalopoden,"  JViederldnrfiscAw 
Archiv  fur  Zoologie,  bd.  v.,  1880.  (39)  Albany  Hancock,  "On  the  nervous 
system  of  Ommastrepkes  todariis,"  Anncls  and  Mag.  Nat.  Hist.,  1852.  (40) 
J.  D.  Macdonald,  "On  the  anatomy  of  Nautilus  umbilicatus,"  Phil.  2'rans.  v) 
Roy.  Soc.  Lond.,  1S55.  (41)  V.  Hcnsen,  "  Ueber  das  Auge  einiger  Cephalopoden," 
Zeitschr.  f.  wlss.  Saol.,  1865.  (42)  A.  d'Orbigny,  Mollusques  vivants  et  fossiUs, 
t.  i.  (Cephalopodes  acetabuUfferes),  Paris,  184&  (with  36  plates).  (43)  Bobretzky, 
"On  the  development  of  the  Cephalopoda,"  Trans,  of  Soc  of  Friends  of  Nat. 
Hist,  of  Moscow,  vol.  xxiv.  (Russian).  (44)  T.  H.  Huxley,  "Oviducts  of  the 
Smelt,"  Proc  Zool.  Soc  Lond.,  1883.  (45)  Same  as  35.  (46)  P.  M.  Balfour, 
Comparative  Embryology,  vols.  i.  and  ii.,  London,  1881-1882.  (47)  H.  Gries- 
bach,  "  Ueber  das  GefiUis-System  und  die  Wasserauftiahme  bei  den  N^adcn  uud 
Mytiliden,"  Zeitschr.  f.  u'Us.  Zool.,  1883.  (48)  Same  as  14.  v49)  Same  as  iS. 
(50)  R.  Holman  Pecl^  "The  Btnictare  of  the  Lamelli branchiate  gill,"  Quart. 
Journ.  of  Microsc.  Sc,  1876.  (51)  K.  Mitsukuri,  "Structure  end  signiiicance 
of  some  aberrant  forms  of  LameUi branchiate  gil\a,"'Quart.  Journ.  Microsc.  Sc, 
1881.  (52)  K.  Langer,  "Das  Gefass-System  der  Teichmussel."  Denk.  k'.iii. 
Akad.  d.  iVisscnsch.,  Vienna,  1855-1856.  (53)  J.  Penrose,  in  "Report  of  the 
Committee  on  the  Zoological  Station  of  Naples,"  British  Assoc  Report,  18S2. 
(54)  P.  P.  C.  Hoek,  "l/cs  orgaues  de  la  generation  de  Thuitre,"  Journ.  de  la  Soc 


Neerlaniaise  de  Zool.,  1883. 


(£.  R.  L.) 


MOLLUSCOIDS. '  See  Brachiopoda  and  Polyzoa. 
MOLOCH,  or  Molech — in  Hebrew,  with  the  doubtful 
exception  of  1  Kings  xi.  7,  always  "Hjisn  with  the  article- 


in  the  last  ages  of  the  kingdom  were  wont  to  propitiate  by 
the  sacrifice  of  their  own  children.  The  phrase  employed 
in  speaking  of  these  sacrifices  is  "to  make  one's  son  or 


is  the  name  or  title  of  the  divinity  which  the  men  of  Judah  |  daughter  pass  through  fire  to  the  Moloch  "  (2  Kings  xxiii 


696 


M  O  L  — M  O  L 


10;  Jer.  zxxii.  35,  and  so  without  the  words  "through  fire" 
Lev.  xviii.  21);  but  it  appears  from  Ezek.  xvi.  20,  21 
that  this  phrase  denotes  a  human  holocaust,'-  and  not,  as 
sometimes  has  been  thought,  a  mere  consecration  to  Moloch 
by  passing  through  or  between  fires,  as  in  the  Roman  Palilia 
and  similar  rites  elsewhere.  Human  sacrifices  were  com- 
mon in  Semitic  heathenism,  and  at  least  the  idea  of  such 
sacrifices  was  not  unknown  to  Israel  in  early  times  (Isaac, 
Jephthah's  daughter),  though  in  the  sunny  days  of  the 
nation,  when  religion  was  a  joyous  thing,  there  is  no 
reason  to  think  that  they  were  actually  practised.-  It 
was  otherwise  in  the  neighbouring  nations,  and  in  par- 
ticular we  learn  from  2  Kings  iii.  27  that  the  piacular 
sacrifice  of  his  son  and  heir  was  the  last  offering  which 
the  king  of  Moab  made  to  deliver  his  country.  Even  the 
Hebrew  historian  ascribes  to  this  act  the  effect  of  rousing 
divine  indignation  against  the  invading  host  of  Israel ;  it 
is  not,  therefore,  surprising  that  under  the  miseries  brought 
on  Palestine  by  the  westward  march  of  the  Assyrian 
power,  when  the  old  gladness  of  Israel's  faith  was 
swallowed  up  in  a  crushing  sense  of  divine  anger,  the  idea 
of  the  sacrifice  of  one's  ovm  son,  as  the  most  powerful  of 
atoning  rites,  should  have  taken  hold  of  those  kings  of 
Judah  (Ahaz  and  Manasseh,  2  Kings  xvi.  3,  xxi.  6)  who 
were  otherwise  prone,  in  their  hopelessness  of  help  from 
the  old  religion  (Isa.  vii.  12),  to  seek  to  strange  peoples 
and  their  rites.  Ahaz's  sacrifice  of  his  son  (whvh  indeed 
rests  on  a  somewhat  late  authority)  must  have  been  an 
isolated  act  of  despair ;  human  sacrifices  are  not  among 
the  corruptions  of  the  popular  religion  spoken  of  by 
Isaiah  and  Micah.  But  in  the  7th  century,  when  the  old 
worship  had  sustained  rude  .shocks,  and  all  religion  was 
transformed  into  servile  fear  (Micah  vi.  1  sq.  belongs  to  this 
period ;  see  Micah),  the  example  of  Manasseh  spread  to 
his  people ;  and  Jeremiah  and  Ezekiel  make  frequent  and 
indignant  reference  to  the  "  high  places  "  for  the  sacrifice 
of  children  by  their  parents  which  rose  beneath  the  very 
walls  of  the  temple  from  the  gloomy  ravine  of  Hinnom 
or  Tophet^  (Jer.  viL  31,  xix.,  xxxii.  35;  Ezek.  xvi.  20, 
xxiii.  37).  It  is  with  these  sacrifices  that  the  name  of 
"  the  Moloch "  is  always  connected ;  sometimes  "  the 
Baal "  (lord)  appears  as  a  synonym.  At  the  same  time, 
the  horrid  ritual  was  so  closely  associated  with  Jehovah 
worship  (Ezek.  xxiii.  39)  that  Jeremiah  more  than  once 
finds  it  necessary  to  protest  that  it  is  not  of  Jehovah's 
institution  (vii.  31,  xix.  5).  So  too  it  is  the  idea  of 
sacrificing  the  firstborn  to  Jehovah  that  is  discussed  and 
r^ected  in  Micah  vi.  It  is  indeed  plain  that  such  a 
sacrifice — for  we  have  here  to  do,  not  with  human  victims 
in  general,  bui  with  the  sacrifice  of  the  dearest  earthly 
thing — could  only  be  paid  to  the  supreme  deity ;  and 
Manasseh  and  his  people  never  ceased  to  acknowledge 
Jehovah  as  the  God  of  Israel,  though  they  sought  to  make 
their  worship  more  eflicacious  by  the  adoption  of  foreign 
rites.     Thus  the  way  in  which  Jeremiah,  and  after  him 


'  In  2  Chrou.  xxviii.  3  (parallc!  to  2  Kings  xyl.  3)  a  single  letter  is 
transposed  in  the  phrase,  changing  the  sense  from  *'  caused  to  pa.ss  through 
the  Are  "  to  "  caused  to  bum  with  Are. "  Geiger  { Urschri/l  uTid  Ueber- 
selzung,  p.  305)  very  unnecessarily  supimses  that  this  is  everywhere  the 
original  reading,  and  has  been  changed  to  soften  the  enormity  ascribed 
to  the  ancient  Hobrews.  The  phrase  "to  give  one's  seed  to  Moloch," 
Lev.  XX.  2  sq.,  and  the  fact  that  these  victims  were  (like  other  sacrifices) 
regarded  as  food  for  the  deity  (Ezek.  xvi.  20)  explain  and  justify  the 
common  reading. 

'■'  In  Hosea  xiii.  2  the  interpretniion  "they  that  sacrifice  men"  is 
improbable,  and  2  Kings  xvii,  17  and  Lev.  xviii.,  xx.  are  of  too  late 
date  to  prove  the  immolation  of  children  to  Moloch  in  eld  Israel. 
The  "  ban  "  (Diri),  which  was  a  religious  execution  of  criminals  or 
enemies,  w.as  common  to  Israel  with  i*s  heatlicn  neighbours  (stone  of 
Misha),  but  lacked  the  distinctive  character  of  a  sacrifice  in  which  the 
victim  is  the  food  of  the  deity,  -conveyed  to  him  through  fire. 

■*  The  etymology  of  the  word  Tophet  is  obscure  ;  its  meaning 
appears  from  lopIUeh,  "pyre,"  Isa.  xxx.  "Z. 


the  legislation  of  Leviticus  and  the  author  of  Kings,  sceni 
to  mark  out  the  Moloch  or  Baal  as  a  false  god,  distinct 
from  Jehovah,  is  precisely  parallel  to  the  way  in  which 
Hosea  speaks  of  the  golden  calves  or  Baalim.  In  each 
case  the  people  thought  themselves  to  bo  worshijiping 
Jehovah  under  the  title  of  Moloch  or  Baal ;  but  thefjrophet 
refuses  to  admit  that  this  is  so,  because  the  worship 
itself  is  of  heathenish  origin  and  character.  "  The 
Moloch,"  in  fact,  like  "  the  Baal,"  is  not  the  proper  name 
of  a  deity,  but  a  honorific  title,  as  appears  from  the  use  of 
the  article  with  it.  According  to  the  Hebrew  consonants, 
it  might  simply  be  read  "the  king,"  which  is  a  common 
appellation  for  the  supreme  deity  of  a  Semitic  state  or 
tribe.*  And  so  the  LXX.,  except  in  2  Kings  xxiii.  10, 
and  perhaps  Jer.  xxxii.  35,  actually  treat  the  name  as  an 
appellative  ("niler,"  "rulers").  The  traditional  pronuncia- 
tion, which  goes  back  as  far  as  the  LXX.  version  of  Kings 
(MoAd^),  appears  to  mean  "  the  kingship  " — an  unsuitable 
sense,  which  lends  probability  to  the  conjecture  that  the 
old  form  was  simply  "  the  king,"  and  that  the  later  Jews 
gave  it  the  vowels  of  riC'3,  the  contemptuous  name  for 
Baal  (G.  Hoffman  in  Z. f.  AT.W.,  1883,  p.  124). 

From  these  arguments  it  would  appear  that  the  rise  of 
Moloch  worship  does  not  imply  the  introduction  into  the 
religion  of  Judah  of  an  altogether  new  deity,  but  only  a 
heathenish  development  of  Jehovah  worship,  in  the  familiar 
fashion  of  religious  syncretism,  and  under  that  sense  of 
the  inadequacy  of  the  old  popular  rituoJ  to  divert  the 
wrath  of  the  Godhead  which  was  inspired  by  the  calamities 
of  the  nation  in  the  7th  century  e.g.,  and  led  to  more  than 
one  new  development  of  atoning  ritual.  The  key  to  the 
phenomenon  is  to  be  found  in  Micah  vi.,  not  in  any  veia 
of  mythological  speculation  as  to  the  forces  of  nature,  such 
as  is  supposed  in  Movers's  theory  that  Moloch  represents 
the  fiery  destructive  power  of  the  sun.  Moloch,  in  fact, 
in  the  Old  Testament  has  no  more  to  do  with  fire  than 
any  other  deity.  The  children  offered  to  him  wtre  not 
burned  alive ;  they  were  slain  and  burned  like  any  other 
holocaust  (Ezek.  ut  siipra ;  Isa.  Ivii.  5) ;  their  blood  was 
shed  at  the  sanctuary  (Jer.  xix.  4 ;  Ps.  cvi.  38).  Thus 
the  late  Rabbinical  picture  of  the  caif-headed  brazen  image 
of  Moloch  witliin  which  children  were  burned  alive  is  pure 
fable,  and  with  it  falls  the  favourite  comparison  between 
Moloch  and  the  Carthaginian  idol  from  whose  brazen  arms 
children  were  rolled  into  an  abyss  of  fire,  and  whom 
Diodorus  (xix.  14)  naturally  identifies  with  the  child-eater 
Kronos,  thus  leading  many  moderns  to  make  Moloch  the 
planet  Saturn.  On  the  other  hand,  the  JIassoretic  text 
of  1  Kings  xi.  7  makes  Moloch  (without  the  article)  the 
name  of  the  god  of  the  Ammonites,  elsewhere  called 
Milcom  or  Malcam.  But  in  this  place  the  LXX.  translators 
certainly  found  the  longer  form  D37D  in  their  MSS.  (as 
the  Hebrew  still  reads  in  verse  33),  while  it  is  plain  from 
2  Kings  xxiii.  10,  13  that  the  worship  of  Milcom  at  the 
shrine  set  up  by  Solomon  was  distinct  from  the  much 
later  Moloch  worship  of  Tophet.  In  the  usual  printed 
text  of  the  LXX.,  indeed,  this  distinction  is  not  made  in 
2  Kings  xxiii. ;  but  this  is  an  error  of  the  Roman  edition, 
the  Vatican  MS.  really  reading  MOAXOA  in  verse  13. 

(w.  E.  s.) 

MOLUCCAS,  MoLUCCos,  or  Spice  IstiNDs,  The,  com- 
prise, in  the  wider  use  of  the  term,  all  the  islands  of  the 
East  Indian  Archipelago  between  Celebes  on  the  west,  the 
Papuan  Islands  and  New  Guinea  on  the  east,  Timor  on 
the  south,  and  the  open  r-nil'':  on  the  north.     They  are 


*  Compare  the  Tyrian  Melkart  (king  of  the  city)  and  the  two 
names  compounded  with  vielck,  "king,"  in  2  Kings  xvii.  3i.  These 
latter  cases  are  specially  instnictive,  because  Adrommelech  and  Aana- 
mclech  were  also  worshipped  by  the  sacrifice  of  children. 


M  O  L  — M  O  M 


697 


thus  distributed  over  an  area  measuring  about  450  miles 
from  east  to  west,  and  about  800  from  north  to  south,  and 
include — (1 )  the  Moluccas  proper  or  Temate  group,  of  which 
Jilolo  is  the  largest  and  Temate  the  capital ;  (2)  the  Bat- 
chian,  Obi,  and  Sula  groups ;  ^3)  the  Ambon  or  Amboyna 
group,  of  which  Ceram  (Serang)  and  Bum  are  the  largest ; 
(4)  the  Banda  Islands  (the  spice  or  nutmeg  islands  par 
txcdlence),  of  which  Lantoir  or  Great  Banda  is  the  largest, 
and  Neira  politically  the  most  important ;  (5)  the  south- 
eastern islands,  comprising  Tenimber  or  Timor -Laut, 
Larat,  kc;  (6)  the  Kei  Islands  and  the  Aru  Islands,  of 
which  the  former  are  sometimes  attached  to  the  south- 
eastern group;  and  (7)  the  south-western  islands  or  the 
Babber,  Sermatta,  Letti,  Wetter,  Roma,  and  Damme  groups. 
At  the  close  of  the  16th  century  this  part  of  the  archi- 
pelago was  divided  among  four  rulers  settled  at  Temate, 
Tidore,  Jilolo,  and  Batchian.  The  northern  portion  be- 
longs to  the  Dutch  residentship  of  Temate,  the  southern 
portion  to  that  of  Amboyna. 

The  name  Moluccas  seems  to  be  probably  derived  from 
the  Arabic  for  "king."  Argensola  (1609)  uses  the  forms 
idas  McUucas,  Maluco,  and  el  Maluco;  Coronel  (1623),  itloi 
del  Molitco  ;  and  Camoens,  Maluco. 

Compare  the  articles  on  TiroiAN  Archipelago,  Aru  Tslanbs, 
Jilolo,  Ternate,  &c.,  and  J.  J.  de  Hollander,  SandUiding  bij 
de  BcoefeniTig  dtr  Land-  en  VoUxnkunde  v<m  Ned.  Oost.  Jndia^ 
Breda,  1877  and  1882. 

MOLYBDENUM,  one  of  the  rarer  metaUic  elements 
(symbol  for  atomic  weight.  Mo  =  96;  H  =  l),  occurs  in 
nature  chiefly  in  the  two  forms  of  Yellow  Lead  Ore 
(PbOMoOj)  and  Molybdenite  (MoSj).  The  latter  mineral 
is  very  similar  in  appearance  and  in  mechanical  properties 
to  graphite  or  black  lead,  and,  in  fact,  was  long  confounded 
with  it  chemically,  until  Scheele  in  1778  and  1779  proved 
their  difference  by  showing  that  only  the  mineral  now 
called  molybdenite  yields  a  white  earth  on  oxidation. 
The  metallic  radical  of  the  earth,  after  its  discovery  by 
Hjclm,  was  called  molybdenum,  from  /xoXv/SSoi,  lead. 

By  heating  molybdenite  in  a  combustion  tube  in  a  current  of  air, 
we  obtain  the  trioride  M0O3  (molybdic  acid)  as  a  white  crystalline 
lublimate.  This  substance,  when  heated  to  redness  in  close  vessels, 
fases  without  much  volatilization  into  a  yellow  liquid,  which,  on 
cooling,  freezes  into  a  crystalline  radiated  mass  of  4"39  specific 
gravity.  It  dissolves  in  500  parts  of  cold,  and  in  960  of  hot 
water.  It  dissolves  readily  in  aqueous  ammonia  or  alkalies,  form- 
ing molybdatea.  Like  silica,  it  combines  with  bases  in  a  great 
variety  of  proportions.  Of  these  many  salts,  an  ammonia  salt  of 
the  composition  SCNH^jjO.  7M0O3  +  4H2O  (known  in  laboratory 
parlance  simply  as  molybdate  of  ammonia)  is  the  most  important, 
affording,  as  it  does,  the  most  delicate,  characteristic,  and  widely 
applicable  precipitant  for  ortho-phosphoric  acid.  To  detect  phos- 
phoric acid  in  any  substance  soluble  in  water  or  nitric  acid,  add 
first  to  a  solution  of  molybdate  of  ammonia  an  excess  of  nitric  acid, 
and  then  (not  too  much)  of  the  nitric  solution  of  the  phosphate, 
and  keep  the  mixture  at  40°  C. ;  the  whole  of  the  phosphoric  acid 
gradually  separates  out  in  the  shape  of  a  canary-yellow  crystalline 
precipitate  of  " pkospho-molybdatc  0/ ammonia,"  of  the  composition 
.  24M0O3 .  PA .  3(NH4).0  I  ,  1 BH  o 

-f241IoOj.  PA-  2(NH,),,Q.  H3O/  +16"»" 
(according  to  Gibbs),  which  is  insoluble  in  the  reagent,  even  in  the 
presence  of  dilute  nitric  acid,  but  soluble  in  excess  of  phosphoric  acid. 
By  treatment  of  this  complex  ammonia  salt  with  aqua  regia  we  can 
eliminate  its  acid  24Mo(33 .  PA .  3H„0  as  a  substance  soluble  in 
water  and  crystallizing  from  this  solution  with  59  molecules  of 
water. 

This  phospho- molybdic  acid  plays  a  great  part  in  chemical  toxi- 
cology, being  a  genorically  characteristic  precipitant  for  all  (organic) 
alkaloids,  which  combine  with  it,  pretty  much  as  ammonia  does, 
into  precipitates  insoluble  in  dilute  mineral  acids.  A  solution  of 
the  acid  suiBcient  for  this  purpose  may  be  obtained  by  saturating 
carbonate  of  soda  solution  with  molybdic  acid,  adding  phosphate 
of  soda,  one  part  for  every  five  of  MoO^,  evaporating  to  dryness, 
fusing,  dissolving  in  water,  filtering,  and  addihgJnitric  acid  until 
-  the  liquid  becomes  yellow. 

Metallic  molybdenum  is  obtained  by  reduction  of  the  trioxide  in 
hydrogen  gas  at  very  high  temperatures.  It  is  thus  obtained  in 
smalt  crystalline  granules  which  are  infusible  even  in  the  oxy- 
hydrogen  flame.     An  alloy  of  the  metal  with  four  or  five  per  cent. 

IG— 2.5* 


of  carbon  (formerly  accepted  as  inolybdennm)  fuses  in  the  oiy- 
hydrogen  fiamo  into  a  suver-white  metal,  of  8".6  specific  gravity, 
which  is  harder  than  topaz  (Debray). 

Analysis.  — Molybdenum  in  all  its  forms  is  readily  converted  into 
molybdic  acid  by  oxidizing  agents,  such  as  nitric  acid  ;  or  if  in  non- 
volatile forms  into  alkaline  molybdate  by  fusion  with  carbonate 
of  alkali  and.pitre.  Alkaline  molybdate  is  soluble  in  water  ;  the 
solution,  on  a  gradual  addition  of  hydrochloric  acid,  gives  first  a  white 
precipitate,  which  then  dissolves  in  the  excess  of  acid.  AVhen  a 
piece  of  zinc  is  added  to  such  a  solution,  the  latter,  through 
gradual  reduction  of  its  M0O3  to  lower  oxides,  assumes  first  a  blue, 
then  a  green,  and  lastly  a  deep  blackish-brown  colour.  Molybdic 
acid  colours  the  blowpipe  flame  yellowish  green.  It  dissolves  in 
fused  borax,  forming  a  head  which  in  the  oxidizing  flame  becomes 
yellow  in  the  heat,  hut  almost  colourlees  on  cooling  ;  the  reducing 
name  colours  it  dark  brown,  and  may  cause  the  separation  of  brown 
flakes  of  M0O5.     Compare  Chemistet,  vol.  v.  pp.  541,  642. 

MOMBASA,  or  less  correctly  Mombas,  the  Mmta  of  the 
Sawahili,  a  town  on  the  east  coast  of  Africji,  in  4°  4'  S. 
lat.,  with  the  best  harbour  on  all  the  Zsjizibar  mainland. 
The  coralline  island  of  which  it  occupies  the  eastern 
portion  is  3  miles  long  by  2J  broad,  and  lies  in  the 
middle  of  a  double  inlet  of  the  sea  stretching  northward 
into  Port  Tudor  (so  called  after  the  English  officer  who 
surveyed  it)  and  westward  into  Port  Reitz  (after  the 
English  resident  who  died  while  exploring  the  Pangani 
river  in  1823).  Except  at  the  western  end,  the  coast 
of  the  island  consists  of  cliffs  from  40  to  60  feet  high. 
In  the  vicinity  of  the  town  palms,  mangoes,  guavaa, 
baobabs,  and  cinnamon -trees  flourish  abundantly,  and 
farther  to  the  west  are  stretches  of  virgin  forest,  the 
haunt  of  monkeys,  wild  hogs,  and  hyaenas.  The  citadel, 
originally  constructed  by  Xeixas  and  Cabrera  in  1 635, 
stili  remains  in  good  condition,  "a  picturesque  yellow 
pile  with  long  buttressed  curtains,"  but  has  preserved 
little  of  its  Porttiguese  architecture.  Of  the  twenty 
Portuguese  chtirches  which  Mombasa  once  eontained,  only 
two  or  three  can  be  identified.  A  few  of  the  houses  are 
built  of  stone,  but  most  of  them  are  mere  thatched  huts. 
The  population  in  1844  was,  according  to  Dr  Krapf,  from 
8000  to  10,000,  mostly  Wasawahili,  but  with  a  considerable 
number  of  Arabs  and  some  thirty  or  forty  Banyans.  In 
1857  Burton  estimated  the  inhabitants  at  8000  to  9000, 
and  in  1883-  they  numbered  about  20,000.  The  Arabs, 
the  Wamwita,  and  the  Wakilindini  (the  two  divisions  of 
the  Wasawahili  residents,  of  which  the  former  is  the  original 
stock)  have  each  their  own  chief.  In  1875-76  the  Church 
Missionary  Society,  which  made  Mombasa  one  of  its  stations 
in  1844,  established  a  settlement  for  liberated  slaves  at 
Freretown  (Kisauni)  on  the  mainland,  opposite  Mombasa. 
By  1881  it  consisted  of  ab<jut  450  persons,  of  whom  about 
one-fourth  were  children  attending  school.  The  pupils  are 
taught  to  read  both  English  and  Sawahili  {Ck..  Miss. 
Intelligencer,  1875-76  and  1881).  A  bianch  station  at 
Rabbai  numbers  600  inhabitants. 

Mombasa  takes  its  name  from  Mombasa  in  Oman.  It  is  men- 
tioned by  Ibn  BaWta  in  1331  as  a  large  place,  and  at  the  time  of 
Vasco  da  Gama's  visit  it  was  the  residence  of  Calicut  Banyans  and 
Christians  of  St  Thomas,  and  the  seat  of  considerable  comtuerce. 
The  "king"  of  the  city,  however,  tried  to  entrap  Da  Gama,  and 
with  this  began  a  series  of  troubles  which  give  full  force  to  the 
native  name  Mvrita  (war).  The  principal  incidents  are  the  capture 
and  burning  of  the  place  by  Almoyda  (1505),  Nuno  da  Cunha 
(1529),  and  Duarte  de  Menezes  (1587) — this  last  as  a  revenge  for  its 
submission  to  the  sultan  of  Constantinople  — the  building  of  the 
Portuguese  fort  (1594),  the  revolt  of  Yusuf  ibn  Ahmed  (1631),  the 
erection  of  the  Portuguese  citadel  (1635),  the  five  years'  siege  by  the 
imam  of  Oman  (1660-65),  and  the  final  expulsion  of  the  Portuguese 
(1698).  In  1823  the  Mazara  family,  who  had  ruled  in  Mombasa 
from  the  early  part  of  the  18th  century,  placed  the  city  under 
British  protection  ;  but  Britain  soon  withdrew,  and  left  the  place 
to  be  bombarded  and  captured  by  Sayyid  Said  of  Zanzibar,  who 
was  obUged  to  make  repeated  attacks  between  1829  and  1833,  and 
only  got  possession  in  1834  by  treachery.  A  revolt  against  Zanzi- 
bar in  1875  was  put  down  by  British  assistance. 

See  Capt  W  F.  W.  Owen,  Jiarmliw.  i-c.  (1833);  Capt  ThomM  Boteler, 
Karmtivt,  be.  (1835);  OuUlain,  Voyagt,  (^ms,  1S56);  Krapf,  TmvtU,  (1800) ; 
Burton,  Zamibar,  (1S72). 

XVI.   —   88 


698 


MONACHISM 


THE  word  Monachism,  or  Monastieism,  primarily  mean- 
ing the  act  of  "  dwelling  alone  "  (/^ovaxo?,  fiovd^av, 
fj-ovoi),  has  come,  by  an  easy  and  natural  transition,  to 
denote  the  corporate  life  of  religious  communities  living 
a  life  of  poverty,  celibacy,  and  obedience,  under  a  fixed 
rule  of  discipline.  The.  root-idea  of  monachism,  in  all 
its  varieties  of  age,  creed,  and  countrj',  is  the  same — 
camdy,  retirement  from  society  in  search  of  some  ideal 
of  life  which  society  cannot  supply,  but  which  is  thought 
attainable  by  abnegation  of  self  and  withdrawal  from 
the  world.  This  definition  applies  to  all  the  forms  of 
monachism  which  have  left  their  mark  on  history,  whether 
amongst  Brahmans,  Buddhists,  Jews,  Christians,  Moslems, 
or  the  communistic  societies  of  the  present  day,  even  when 
theoretically  anti-theological. 

Thh  broad  general  conception  of  monSchisra  is  differ- 
enced ia  the  following  ways  : — It  may  take  the  form  of 
absolute  separation,  so  far  as  practicable,  from  all  human 
intercourse,  so  as  to  give  the  whole  life  to  solitary  con- 
templation— the  anchoretic  type ;  or,  contrariwise,  it  may 
seek  fellowship  with  kindred  spirits  in  a  new  association 
for  the  same  common  end — the  ccenobitic  type ;  it  may 
abandon  society  as  incurably  corrupt,  as  a  City  of  De- 
struction out  of  which  the  fugitive  must  flee  abt,olutoly — 
the  Oriental  view,  for  the  most  part ;  or  it  may  consider 
itself  as  having  a  mission  to  influence  and  regenerate 
society — which  has  been,  on  the  whole,  and  witli  minor 
exceptions,  the  Western  theory  of  the  monastic  life. 

The  question  has  been  warmly  debated  whether  mona- 
chism be  an  evil  or  a  good, — whether  a  natural,  perhaps 
a  necessary,  part  of  Christianity  (as  being,  indeed,  t;he 
strict  logical  issue  of  the  triple  vow  of  baptism,  literally 
construed),  or  a  foreign  element  introduced  into  it  with 
unfortunate  results,  and  rather  an  excrescence  on  its 
system  than  an  orderly  and  healthy  development.  Unlike 
many  other  institutions  which  have  needed  the  lapse  of 
centuries  and  the  gradual  approach  of  decay  and  degeneracy 
to  show  their  weak  places,  monachism  in  its  Christian 
form  displays  some  of  its  most  unlovely  features  while  yet 
almost  in  its  cradle,  wiereas  not  a  few  of  its  best  achieve- 
ments belong  to  a  late  period  in  its  history ;  and  it  has 
throughout  displayed  a  singular  elasticity  and  power  of 
taking  a  fresh  departure,  after  seeming  to  have  exhausted 
its  energies.  Its  champions  and  its  opponents  have  thus 
alwajs  had  ample  materials  for  their  briefs,  and  there  is 
little  probability  of  the  controversy  ever  coming  to  an  end. 
But  the  most  philosophical  mode  of  viewing  its  relation  to 
Christianity  is  to  recognize  that  monachism  has  made  a 
part  of  every  creed  which  has  attained  a  certain  stage  of 
ethical  and  theosophical  development ;  that  there  is  a  class 
of  minds  for  which  rt  has  always  had  a  powerful  attrac- 
tion, and  which  can  otherwise  find  no  satisfaction  ;  and 
consequently  that  Christianity,  if  it  is  to  make  good  its 
claim  to  be  a  universal  religion,  must  provide  expression 
for  a  principle  which  is  as  deeply  seated  in  human  natm-e 
as  domesticity  itself,  albeit  limited  to  a  much  smaller  sec- 
tion of  mankind. 
Driglnit-  Three  main  factors  combined  to  produce  the  phenomenon 
(nfft^  of  monalchism  in  early  Christianity,  each  of  them  set  in 
c^uMs.  niotion  by  the  general  dissolution  of  morals  in  the  pagan 
society  of  the  time,  of  which  we  get  a  sufficient  glimpse 
from  tlie  Christian  standpoint  in  the  first  chapter  of  the 
Epistle  to  the  Romans,  and  from  the  pagan  standpoint  in 
the  si.xth  Satire  of  Juvenal.  Tliese  three  factors  were — (1) 
the  Oriental  tendency  towards  retirement,  contemplation, 
and  asceticism,  influencing  the  infant  Christian  church 
through  tha  agency  of  those  Jewish  ascetics,  the  Essenes 


and  Therapeutse,  who  had  begun  long  before  the  gospel 
times  both  the  solitary  and  the  common  life  in  Palestine 
and  Egypt,  and  who  probably  contributed  many  converts 
to  Christianity,  and  became  practically  merged  therein,  as 
they  disappear  from  history  in  the  iirst  century  of  the 
Christian  era;  (2)  the  Hellenic  teaching  of  the  Alexandrine 
Neo-Platonists  on  the  purification  of  the  intellect  by  absten- 
tion from  physical  indulgence ;  and  (3),  perhaps  a  more 
powerful  influence  than  either,  that  old  Roman  spirit  of 
austerity  and  discipline  which,  while  looking  back  regret- 
fully to  the  memories  of  the  simpler  habits  of  republican 
times,  could  find  nothing  amidst  the  social  luxui-y  and 
administrative  weakness  of  the  decaying  empire  which  pre- 
sented its  ideal,  save  the  monastic  system  with  its  rigid 
proscription  of  Itixury,  and  even  of  comfort,  in  every  form. 
The  first-named  of  these  three  factors  was,  however,  neces- 
sarily the  earliest  to  operate.  The  Scriptures  attest  clearly 
the  existence  of  a  body  of  ascetics  in  the  persons  of  the 
Nazarites,  leading  always  for  a  certajn  period,  and  sometimes 
fof  life,  a  stricter  existence  than  the  ordinary  Jew ;  Elijah 
and  John  the  Baptist  furnished  examples  of  the  soUtary 
hermit  type  ;  the  Schools  of  the  Prophets  at  least  seem  to 
have  been  celibate  and  ccenobitic  communities,  living  by  a 
fixed  ascetic  rule  ;  and  it  is  familiar  to  all  that  such  was  the 
actual  discipline  of  the  Essenes  (see  Essenes).  The  sect  of 
the  Therapeutse,  known  to  us  only  from  the  book  De  Fita 
Co7iiemplativa  (ascribed  to  Philo),  and  described  as  chiefly, 
though  not  exclusively,  established  in  Egj'pt,  bore  much 
resemblance  to  the  Essenes,  differing  from  them  for  the 
most  part  by  greater  austerity  in  the  matter  of  food,  and 
by  their  preference  for  the  solitary  life  over  the  common 
fellowship  of  the  Essenes ;  for  their  custom  was  that  each 
member  confined  himself  to  his  lonely  dwelling  (called  by 
the  afterwards  famous  nam.e  of  ;iovatm]piov)  throughout 
the  week,  while  all  assembled  on  the  Sabbath  for  joint 
worship,  and  for  instrviction  from  the  senior  of  the  society. 
So  closely  does  this  polity  resemble  that  of  several  of  the 
earliest  Christian  societies  of  the  kind  that  Eusebius  de- 
votes a  chapter  of  his  Ecclesiastical  Histm-y  (ii.  17)  to  as- 
serting their  identity,  holding  that  Philo  could  have  been 
speaking  of  none  save  Christian  ascetics,  a  view  ia  which 
he  is  followed  by  Sozomen  and  Cassian  in  ancient  times, 
as  also  by  many  moderns.  This  view  has  been  rendered 
much  more  probable  by  recent  inquirers,  who  seem  to 
have  made  out  that  the  De  Vit.  Cont.  is  spurious,  and  was 
written  about  300  a.d.  ;'  for  there  is  a  general  agreement 
amongst  the  fathers  that  the  monastic  life  did  not  begin 
till  nearly  two  hundred  years  after  Philo  lived ;  and  Ter- 
tullian  (160-240  a.d.)  declares  explicitly  that  Christians 
in  his  time  did  not  withdraw  from  society, — "  We  are  not 
Indian  BrAhmans  or  Gymnosophists,  dwellers  in  woods, 
and  exiles  from  life ;  ...  we  sojourn  with  you  in  the 
world"  (Apot.,  xlii.).  Yet  there  is  no  reason  to  doubt 
that  the  leaven  of  Essenism  was  at  work  in  the  church 
from  the  earliest  time,  and  helped  to  form  the  temper 
which  issued  in  monachism.  Still,  the  jirocess  was  slow 
and  gradual,  passing  through  very  much  the  same  stasci 
as  can  be  traced  by  careful  inquiry  in  the  case  of  the 
Essenes.  That  is  to  say,  the  new  converts  to  Christianity, 
being  for  the  most  part  dwellers  in  cities,  were  in  necessary 
and  daily  contact  with  the  heathen  society  around,  whose 
relaxation  was  such  as  to  induce  i.n  even  greater  recoil  from 
habits  of  self-indulgence  than  the  stricter  morality  of  their 
new  creed  enjoined,  so  that  a  body  known  by  the  name  of 
"  Ascetics  "  s|iraiig  up  veiy  soon  within  the  church,  ami 


'  Sea  especially  Lucius,  Die  Thcrapcutai,  1879. 


M.  0  N  A  Q  H  I  S  M 


699 


vcre  urged  on  to  still  greater  severity  of  life  when  the  rapid 
jrogress  of  Christianity  brought  large  numbers  of  merely 
lominal  converts  in,  whose  practice  fell  too  conspicuously 
jelo-.r  their  profession.  The  desire  of  protest  against  such 
i  state  of  things  led  to  the  gradual  separation  of  the 
levotees  into  a  kind  of  order  within  the  main  body,  .and 
;o  their  actual  withdrawa'  from  habitual  intercourse  -n-ith 
;heir  less  strict  fellows,  which  led  in  turn  to  their  departure 
■rom  the  towns  into  more  secluded  places,  even  before  any 
.'ormal  conception  of  the  monastic  life  had  shaped  itself  in 
;heir  minds.  But  the  first  glimpse  obtainable  of  the 
''common  life,"  and  that  only  an  indistinct  one,  is  in  the 
STew  Testament,  and  applies  to  women  alone.  There  is 
mention  in  the  pastoral  epistles  (1  Tim.  v.  9-12)  of  a  class 
of  widows,  apparently  not  as  mere  recipients  of  relief,  but 
as  coiistit.Lting  an  ecclesiastical  grade ;  while  in  Acts  ix. 
39  it  appears  as  if  a  number  of  women  belonging  to  this 
arder  were  united  in  some  kind  of  community  under  the 
headship  of  Dorcas,  for  the  narrative  rather  implies  that 
they  were  her  assistants  in  making  clothing  for  the  poor 
than  themselves  the  objects  of  her  bounty.  This  conjecture 
receives  some  confirmation  from  the  mention  of  "  the  virgins 
who  are  called  widows  "  (ras  rrapdevovs  ras  Atyo/xei'aj  ^tj/dos) 
in  the  shorter  recension  of  the  Ignatian  Epistle  to  the 
Smyrnoeans,  and  from  the  statement  of  Athanasius, 
that  Anthony,  when  himself  about  to  begin  the  solitary 
life  which  he  is  regarded  as  having  instituted,  first  placed 
his  sister  in  a  convent  of  virgins  (vapOivoiva), — facts  which 
prove  the  organization  of  women  at  an  earlier  date  in  com- 
munity life  than  of  men,  and  lend  some  probability  to  the 
notion  that  it  may  have  begun  very  soon  indeed,  especially 
whi?n  the  prominence  given  to  the  virgins  as  a  separate  and 
seemingly  long-established  order  in  the  church  by  such 
early  writers  as  Tertullian  and  Cyprian  is  borne  in  mind. 

Two  other  causes  must  be  taken  into  account  as  tend- 
ing to  stimulate  monachism  when  once  it  began.  First  is 
the  theological  opinion,  early  formulated,  and  never  since 
without  many  advocates,  that  two  distinct  standards  of 
life  and  holiness  are  set  forth  in  the  gospel :  that  of  pre- 
cept, and  that  of  "counsels  of  perfection," — the  former 
binding  all  Christians  without  exception,  the  latter  being 
voluntary,  and  merely  offered  for  acceptance  to  such  as 
aim  at  especial  sanctity.  The  second,  and  even  more 
powerful,  agent  was  Gnosticism,  not  only  in  its  earlier 
forms  and  in  the  kindred  spirit  of  Montanism,  but  still 
more  in  its  lifanichcean  development,  when  its  dualism  led 
to  exaggeration  of  the  antagonism  between  flesh  and  spirit, 
and  the  human  body  was  regarded  no  longer  as  a  servant 
to  be  trained,  but  as  an  enemy  to  be  crushed  and  beaten 
down  xvith  unrelenting,  hostility.  But  in  every  age  of 
monachism,  from  the  earliest  to  the  latest,  social  disorders 
and  insecurity  have  proved  the  chief  feeders  of  the  cloister, 
never  widely  popular  in  times  of  healthy  and  orderly 
national  life,  but  eagerly  resorted  to  as  a  place  of  shelter 
from  social  turbulence. 

There  are  five  main  classes  of  monastic  institutions,  each 
of  which  approximately  marks  a  new  departure  in  the 
history  of  Western  monachism  (for  the  East  has  never  had 
piore  than  the  first),  as  they  succeed  one  another  in  chrono- 
logical order,  without  in  any  instance  involving.the  aban- 
donment of  the  previous  foundations.  They  are — (1)  Monks ; 
(2)  Canons  Regular  ;  (3)  Military  Orders ;  (4)  Friars  ;  (5) 
Clerks  Regular.  All  of  these  have  communities  of  women, 
either  actually  affiliated  to  them,  or  formed  on  similar 
J,  lines. 
Early  There  is  no  doubt  as  to  the  time  and  the  person,  when, 

tscetics.  and  by  whom,  the  first  decisive  step  was  taken  which  left 
a  marked  interval  for  all  time  between  those  ascetics  who 
continued  to  live  in  family  life,  if  not  really  part  of  it,  or  who 
<it  least  dwelt  close  to  some  oixlinary  church,  to  which  they 


resorted  habitually,  and  the  seekers  after  some  more  retired 
and  separate  mode  of  life,  whether  singly  or  in  communities. 
During  the  stress  of  the  Decian  persecution  (249-250  A.D.) 
Paul,  a  native  of  the  Lower  Thebaid,  born  of  wealthy 
parents  about  228,  was  denounced  by  his  brother-in-law 
to  the  authorities  as  a  Christian,  and  fled  for  safety  in- 
to the  desert,  where  he  established  himself  in  a  cavern, 
shaded  by  a  palm-tree,  and  with  a  spring  of  water  close 
by.  There  he  remained  till  extreme  old  agg,  dying,  if 
we  may  accept  Jerome's  chronology,  in  his  hundred  and 
thirteenth  year,  about  342.  Although  he  did  not  collect  ■ 
any  band  of  disciples  around  him,  nor  even,  so  far  as  is  re- 
corded, attract  any  casual  visitors,  except  his  more  famous 
successor,  Ajathony,  who  is  alleged,  in  a  narrative  con- 
taining many  legendary  details,  to  have  had  an  interview 
with  him  when  himself  a  very  old  man,  the  day  before 
Paul's  death ;  yet  there  seems  reason  to  believe  that  the 
fame  of  his  example  spread  .suflSciently  to  induce  imitation 
of  it,  and  that  anchoretic  cells  began  to  be  set  up  sparsely 
in  the  deserts  even  before  Anthony  adopted  that  mode  of 
life.  Anthony's  career  differed  in  various  respects  from 
that  of  his  precursor.  In  the  first  place,  it  was  voluntary 
choice,  not  fear  of  persecution,  which  sent  him  into  solitude. 
He  was  bom  about  250  at  Coma  in  Upper  Egypt,  of 
wealthy  Christian  parents,  and  was  left  at  eighteen  years 
of  age  in  possession  of  a  large  fortune  and  of  the  guardian- 
iship  of  a  younger  sister.  He  had  received  what  was  prob- 
ably a  fair  vernacular  education,  but  distaste  for  study, 
or  perhaps  more  probably  that  difficulty  which  contempla- 
tive intellects  experience  in  the  acquisition  of  languages, 
left  him  unacquainted  with  Greek  or  Latin ;  yet  the 
intimate  knowledge  of  Scripture  which  he  aftei-wards 
displayed  cannot  be  satisfactorily  accounted  for  in  any 
other  way  than  as  the  result  of  attentive  perusal,  since  no 
mere  listening  to  the  lections  in  church  would  suffice  to  con- 
vey it ;  and  we  must  therefore  take  Athanasius's  statement 
of  his  ignorance  of  letters  to  denote  the  absence  of  culture, 
not  as  implying  actual  illiteracy.  One  day,  hearing  the  gospel 
read,  "  Go  and  sell  that  thou  hast,  and  give  to  the  poor  .  .  . 
and  come,  and  follow  Me,"  he  took  it  as  a  direct  address 
to  himself,  and  at  once  returned  home,  distributed  his  pro- 
perty amongst  his  neighbours,  reserving  only  a  small  sum 
for  the  support  of  his  sister  whom  he  placed  in  charge 
of  some  Christian  virgins,  and  then  betook  himself  to  a 
solitary  life,  first  visiting  the  most  eminent  ascetics  and 
anchorets  he  could  find,  in  order  that  he  might  learn  the 
peculiar  merit  of  each,  and  imitate  it.  He  fixed  his  dwell- 
ing first  in  a  tomb,  then  in  a  ruined  fort  near  the  Nile, 
where  he  remained  for  twenty  years,  leaving  it  but  once, 
in  311,  to  encourage  the  Christians  of  Alexandria  during 
the  persecution  of  Maximin  ;  and  lastly  in  a  small  grove  of 
date-palms,  a  few  miles  west  of  the  western  coast  of  the 
Red  Sea,  near  the  base  of  Mount  Kolzim,  where  he  made 
an  enclosure  and  planted  it  as  a  garden.  He  quitted  this 
retirement  but  once  in  his  remaining  life,  when  he  again 
visited  Alexandria  in  335,  at  the  request  of  Athan- 
asius, to  preach  against  the  Arians.  Yet  his  fame  drew 
not  only  frequent  visitors  to  his  cell,  but  numerous  disciples 
and  imitators  around  him,  attracted  not  alone  by  his  pious 
austerities,  but  by  his  cheerful  and  courteous  manners  and 
shrewd  practical  judgment.  He  made  the  soUtaiy  life 
honourable  and  popular,  fully  justifying  Jerome's  phrase 
in  comparing  him  with  Paul,  "  Hujus  vit»  auctor  Paulus, 
illustrator  etiam  Antonius."  When  Anthony  died  in 
365,  aged  one  hundred  and  five,  the  desert  was  already 
studded  with  hermitages  in  every  direction,  and  the  second 
great  step  in  the  development  of  monachism  had  been  long 
taken  by  Pachomius,  who  stands  out  in  liistory  at  once  as  the 
founder  of  the  coenobitic  life  amongst  Christians  and  as  the 
author  of  the  first  formal  monastic  rule.     Born  about  292, 


700 


U  0  N.  A.  G  H   t  S  M 


ana  eonvcrtecl  to  C'hrisiianiiy  in  variy  mantooj  wnilc 
jerviiig  in  the  army,  he  was  bajitized  on  obtaining  his  dis- 
chacge,  and  at  once  adopted  the  ascetic  life  under  the 
direction  of  the  hermit  Palajmon;  with  whom  he  retired 
to  Tabenrse,  an  island  in  the  Nile,  between  Farshoot  and 
Dendarah.  Here  he  began  his  new  institute,  whose  dis- 
tinguishing features  were  as  follows.  The  monks  were 
distributed  into  cells,  each  of  which  contained  three  inmates, 
known  in  this  relation  as  syncetli  (the  usual  number  in 
other  Egyptian  foundations  was  two  in  each  cell,  while  in 
Syria  the  tenant  had  no  partner).  A  large  number  of  such 
cells  clustered  near  each  other  formed  a  laura,  and  each 
such  laura  had  but  one  common  place  for  meals  and  other 
assemblies.  Work  and  food  were  apportioned  to  each 
inmate  according  to  his  physical  strength,  and  such  as 
were  permitted  exceptional  strictness  in  fasting  were  not 
to  undertake  the  heavier  tasks  of  bodily  labour.  Their 
dress  was  to  be  a  close  linen  tunic,  with  a  white  goatskin 
by  way  of  upper  garment,  which  they  were  not  to  lay  aside 
at  meals  or  in  bed,  but  only  when  they  assembled  for  the 
eucharist,  when  they  wore  their  hoods  only  in  addition  to 
the  tunic.  They  were  divided  into  twenty-four  groups  or 
classes  numbered  according  to  the  letters  of  the  Greek 
alphabet,  into  which  they  were  distributed  according  to 
their  intellectual  and  spiritual  jtroficiency,  the  least  intelli- 
gent being  placed  in  class  i,  the  letter  of  simplest  form, 
and  the  ablest  in  class  f,  the  most  complicated.  Each 
group  was  subdivided  into  bands  of  ten  and  a  hundred 
under  decurions  and  centurions,  and  all  subject  to  the 
Abbot,  who  was  himself  in  turn,  when  the  institution 
spread  and  ramified,  subject  to  the  Superior  (or  Archi- 
mandrite) of  the  mother-house  ;  while  the  finance  of  each 
house  was  managed  by  a  steward  (oiVovo/ios),  who  was  simi- 
larly accountable  to  the  treasurer  or  steward  at  Tabenna;. 
Their  usual  food  was  bread  and  water ;  their  luxuries,  oil, 
salt,  and  a  few  occasional  fruits  or  vegetables,  chiefly 
pulse  ;  frugal  meals  which  they  ate  in  strict  silence — 
sometimes  broken  by  the  voice  of  a  reader,  appointed  to 
recite  lections  fronr  the  Bible — each  man  so  wearing  his 
hood  or  cowl  as  to  hide  his  face  from  his  companions. 
They  assembled  twice  daily  for  common  prayer,  and  met 
further  for  communion  on  Saturdays  and  Sundays.  A 
strict  probation  of  three  years  was  imposed  on  postulants 
for  admission,  during  which  they  were  confined  to  simple 
tasks  of  labour,  and  were  not  permitted  to  enter  upon 
actual  study  till  they  had  satisfactorily  passed  through 
this  term.  Their  work  was  tillage  for  their  own  immediate 
wants,  and  weaving  mats  or  baskets  for  sale,  to  procure 
such  necessaries  as  their  direct  labour  was  insufficient  to 
provide ;  and,  as  time  went  on,  other  handicrafts  were 
practised  in  the  cloisters,  such  as  those  of  smiths,  tailors, 
boat-builders,  tanners,  and  so  forth.  Pachomius  induced 
bis  sister  to  found  a  convent  of  nuns  governed  by  very 
.similar  rules,  and  subject  to  the  authority  of  a  visitor 
appointed  by  himself,  as  superior  of  the  whole  institute. 
Such  was  the  success  of  the  Pachomian  rule  that  before 
the  founder  died  (between  318  and  360)  he  had  no  fewer 
than  fourteen  hundred  monks  in  his  own  cccnobium,  and 
seven  thousand  altogether  under  his  authority.  Nor  was 
its  influence  confined  to  Tabennai  and  its  dependencies. 
Ammon  carried  the  rule  into  the  Nitrian  desert,  where 
fiv6  thousand  monks  were  soon  collected ;  Hilarion  bore 
it  into  SjTia  and  Palestine,  Eustathius  of  Sebaste  into 
Armenia,  Ejihraem  Syros  into  Mesopotamia,  Basil  the  Great 
into  Capiiadocia  and  Pontus  (though  a-Tulo  of  his  own 
framing  sujiplantcd  it  later) ;  and,  above  all,  it  was  brought 
by  Athanasius  himself  into  Italy,  wlience  it  spread  over 
thj  West  till  modified  in  various  ways  by  subsequent  legis- 
lation, and  finally  displaced  by  the  Benedictine  institute. 
And  such  v.-as  its  popularity,  meeting  as  it  did  a  need  of 


fhe  time,  that  its  votaries  in  Egj-pt  alone  amounted  b« 
the  5th  ceiituryto  more  than  a  hundred  thousand,  of  whon^ 
three-fourths  were  men.  This  rule  has  come  down  to  \is 
in  two  very  different  forma  :  an  earlier  and  probably  ori-^ 
ginal  one,  preserved  for  us  in  the  Historia  Lausiaca  of 
Palladius,  bishop  of  HelenopoUs  (367-430) — a  great  store- 
house of  details  on  Egyi>tian  monachism,  which  is  very 
brief,  and  has  been  sumn'.arized  above — and  a  muck 
longer  recension,  extending  to  194  heads  or  chapters,  pre- 
served in  a  translation  by  Jerome,  in  whose  time  thp 
monks  governed  by  it  had  increased  to  fifty  thousand. 
It  had  not,  however,  a  complete  monopoly,  for  there  were 
also  similar  rules  in  local  use,  going  by  the  names  of  fambus 
ascetics  such  as  Paphnutius,  Macarius,  and  Serapion ;  nor 
was  it  uncommon  to  find  communities  wherein  two  or  three 
different  rules  were  followed  simultaneously  by  the  various 
inmates.  The  rule  of  Basil,  however,  proved  to  the 
East  what  that  of  Benedict  did  to  the  West,  in  that  it 
practically  absorbed  or  supplanted  all  its  predecessors, 
while,  unlike  the  great  Western  reform,  it  has  had  no  subJ 
sequent  competitors,  and  remains  to  this  day  the  siuglq 
monastic  code  of  the  Oriental  Church.  This  rule  is 
embodied  in  the  Ascetic  Sermons  of  Basil,  and  also  in 
two  recensions,  a  longer  and  a  shorter  one,  of  the  actual 
provisions  of  his  code,  which  are  marked  with  not  a  little 
of  the  shrewd  practical  sense,  as  well  as  lofty  piety,  which 
characterized  the  founder, — being  especially  noticeable  for 
their  discouragement  of  the  solitary  mode  of  life,  and  for 
their  recommendation  of  labour.  The  development  of  Orien- 
tal monachism  thus  ceases  with  the  Easilian  rule,  and  there 
are  only  two  seeming  exceptions  to  this  fact :  the  institu- 
tion of  the  Accemeti  (okoi/xi;toi),  or  "sleepless"  monk.s 
in  the  5th  century,  for  thS  purpose  of  keeping  up  imbroken 
prayer  day  and  night — a  system  copied  much  later  in  the 
West  by  the  communities  founded  for  "perpetual  adora- 
tion ; "  and  the  erection,  for  these  very  monks,  of  the  great 
monastery  of  the  Studium  at  Constantinople  (named  from 
Studius,  its  founder),  which  was  the  Cluny  of  its  time  and 
country,  as  a  centre  of  tie  more  intellectual  monastic  life, 
and  as  the  model  of  stateliness  in  ecclesiastical  ceremonial.' 
Greek  monachi.-^m,  as  an  institute,  has  no  history  later  than 
the  5th  century.  The  monks  indeed  constantly  appear  as 
factors  in  the  controversies  of  the  centuries  which  followed, 
at  once  the  polemical  and  the  i>olitical  disputes  showing 
them  equally  fierce  and  eager  partisans  (notably  in  tht 
Iconoclastic  controversy,  which  found  them  the  most  ardent 
champions  of  images) ;  but  they  cannot  be  said  to  hav< 
exerted  much  influence  upon  society  till  a  very  late  period 
of  their  history,  when  they  were  instrumental  in  keepinj 
the  national  spirit  and  the  national  religion  alive  in  Russis 
when  suffering  under  the  Tatar  yoke,  and  they  performed 
a  like  service  for  Greece  during  the  centuries  of  Turlcisl 
oppression.  It  may  further  be  added  that,  howevei 
low  the  intellectual  life  of  Eastern  monasteries  may  appeal 
when  judged  by  a  Western  standard,  the  clergy  who  an 
trained  in  them,  technically  known  as  the  "  Black  clergy,' 
stand  much  higher  in  character,  acquirements,  and  general 
influence  than  the  secular  or  "White  clergy"  of  the  parishc.'' 
whether  in  Greece  or  in  Russia. 

It  has  been  already  mentioned  that  the  bad  Bui'e'(>  irregi\iar 


^  This  great  abbey,  at  the  height  of  its  prosperity,  contiined  more 
than  a  llioxisaud  monks,  and  the  following  list  of  its  st^ff  of  office  ^ 
hearers,  due  to  ITieodore  the  Studite,  may  be  usefnlly  compared  with 
the  Western  monastic  hierarchy: — 'H70t'^fi'oy  {abbot),  vtroTaKTm^' 
(prior),  otKOudfUK  (treasurer),  ^iriffTTj^vdpxfji  (ceremouiarius),  iirt-nj 
prjT-^t  (inspector),  Kavovdpxv^  (precentor),  To^tdpxTti  (seneschal),  kc\ 
Xapin}^  (cellarer),  iptaryjripiot  (lefectioner),  ^(ffrtdptot  (sacrist) 
d^KTrcifTTTis  (eviRilator),  voffoxifios  (infirmarer).  One  or  two  of  th 
offices  do  not  qnito  correspond  in  East  and  West,  but  the  ef.uen] 
resemblance  is  close. 


M  O  N    A.  0  TT   T   S  M 


70] 


Wflile  the  system  ■won  the  admiration  of  all  the  most  emi- 
nent Christian  teachers  of  the  age  whicl-  saw  its  birth  and 
early  growth,  and  while  we  are  met  by  a  still  more  remark- 
able fact  that  from  the  time  when  monachism  was  fairly 
established  till  we  enter  on  the  Jliddle  Ages  there  are 
but  two  or  three  names  of  distinction  amongst  the  clergy, 
whether  as  writers  or  administrators,  to  be  found  outside 
the  ranks  of  monachism,  amongst  whom  the  most  famous 
Are  Ambrose  and  Leo  the  Great,  nevertheless,  there  is 
a  heavy  account  on  the  other  side.  Not  only  did  the 
institute  speedily  find  itself  caricatured  by  the  Messalians, 
Euchites,  Gyrovagi,  Sarabaites  or  Remoboth,  Circumcel- 
liones,  and  other  companies  of  professed  ascetics,  wild  in 
•doctrine,  vagrant  in  habits,  and  turbulent  in  conduct,  but 
the  more  genuine  societies  had  scarcely  fewer  faults  in  too 
many  cases.  Lay  in  their  origin,  and  for  the  greater  part 
of  their  earlier  history  having  but  rarely  ecclesiastics 
amongst  them  (a  single  priest  ordained  for  each  monastery 
to  minister  to  its  inmates  being  the  utmost  allowed  for  a 
considerable  time),  they  were  not  subject  to  the  same  strict 
inspection  and  discipline  as  the  clergy,  in  case  a  whole 
community  chose  to  disregard  its  rule ;  though  of  course  it 
was  easy  to  deal  with  an  offender  who  had  the  tone  of  his 
monastery  against  him.  The  clergy  were  subject  to  the 
direct  control  of  the  bishops,  and  many  disciplinary  canons 
of  councils  laid  down  rules  for  their  conduct ;  but  this  was 
not  the  case  with  the  monks  for  a  considerable  time — nor 
i&deed  ever  effectively  in  the  East — and  their  lay  character 
^ave  them  practical  independence  of  any  authority  external 
to  their  abbot.  And,  despite  the  stringency  of  the  mon- 
asticJrule  itself,  which,  even  before  actual  vows  began 
to  be  introduced  (probably  on  the  recommendation  of 
Basil),  always  involved  during  compliance  with  it  the 
three  engagements  to  the  observance  of  poverty,  chastity, 
and  obedience,  which  make  up  the  staple  of  the  monastic 
principle,  and  though  pains  were  taken  to  exclude  unfit 
applicants  (such  as  criminals,  slaves  who  had  fled  for  rea- 
sons other  than  ill-treatment,  or  persons  who  had  kindred 
dependent  on  them),  while  a  long  probation  was  exacted 
from  all  who  were  accepted,  yet  it  was  impossible  that 
more  than  a  small  proportion  of  the  many  thousands  who 
flocked  in  during  the  first  enthusiasm  for  the  new  move- 
ment should  have  had  any  real  sympathy  with  the  re- 
straints and  aspirations  of  such  a  mode  of  life.  Severe 
asceticism  operates  differently  on  different  natures,  and 
while  there  are  some  whom  it  does  but  discipline  and 
refine  there  are  more  whom  it  tasds  to  eoarwn  aa.-i  to 
brutalize,  even  apart  from  the  many  whom  it  is  apt  to 
afl'ect  with  morbidness,  if  not  actual  insanity.  And  it  is 
unquestionable  that  vast  numbers  of  those  who  entered 
on  the  monastic  life  came  from  the  poorer  classes,  in 
search  of  some  less  toilsome  mode  of  existence  than  they 
had  previously  led,  preferring  the  contemplative  societies, 
■wherein  almost  no  labour,  certainly  none  of  a  severe  and 
trying  cast,  was  practised,  to  those  where  agriculture  and 
•other  active  employments,  requiring  more  energy  than  mat 
and  basket  weaving,  were  enjoined.  Such  men,  unedu- 
cated and  undisciplined,  ■were  liable  to  be  thrown  entirely 
out  of  gear  by  the  complete  revolution  in  their  mode  of 
life, — especially  when  the  community  they  joined  was  not 
only  contemplative,  but  situated  in  some  place  where  the 
ungrateful  soil  made  tillage  nearly  impracticable,  and  the 
vast  numbers  crowded  together  were  far  too  numerous  for 
any  tasks  which  could  be  assigned  them.  From  the  bosom 
of  such  societies  came  not  only  single  examples  of  exagger- 
•ated  spiritual  pride,  bitter  fanaticism,  avaricious  greed  of 
the  scanty  articles  whose  usufruct  was  permitted,  fierce 
sensuality,-  and  wild  religious  delusions,  but  they  gave 
birth  to  companies  like  the  pcxrKot,  or  "  grazing  monks," 
cf ,  Mesopotamia  and  Pa'estine,  who  roved  about,  shelter- 


less and  nearly  naked,  as  Sozomen  and  Evagriu.*  tell  us,  in 
the  mountains  and  deserts*,  grovelling  on  the  earth,  and 
browsing  like  cattle  on  the  herbs  they  casually  found  ;  and 
to  those  fierce  bands  of  Nitrian  and  Syrian  ascetics  who, 
reared  in  the  narrowest  of  schools,  treated  any  divergence 
from  their  own  standard  of  opinion  as  a  crime  which  they 
were  entitled  to  punish  in  their  own  riotous  fashion,  two 
instances  of  which  have  left  an  indelible  brand  on  their 
history — the  murder  of  Hypatia  in  Alexandria,  and  that  Oi 
the  patriarch  Flavian  at  the  Eobber  Synod  of  Ephesus.  An 
equally  singular,  but  more  sporadic  and  temporary,  fonn 
of  asceticism  ■nas  that  of  the  Stylites  or  Pillar-hei'mits 
(oTvA.tTot,  KioviToi),  who  foUowed  a  fashion  first  set  by 
Simeon,  a  Syrian  monk  who  spent  almost  half  of  the  5tl» 
century  on  the  summit  of  a  colmnn  60  feet  in  height. 
This  unwonted  kind  of  au.^tei  ity  at  first  gave  rise  to  strong 
objections,  even  from  hermits  themselves,  and  a  messenger 
was  sent  to  Simeon,  bidding  him  in  the  name  of  a  synod 
of  bishops  to  descend  from  his  pillar,  but  with  instruc- 
tions to  permit  him  to  remain  if  he  showed  himself  ready 
to  comply.  Such  proved  to  be  the  case;  and,  having  thus 
assured  themselves  that  he  ^\as  not  influenced  by  spiritual 
pride,  they  left  him  to  follow  his  own  devices.  And  we 
have  the  direct  personal  testimony  of  the  wise  and  tem- 
perate Theodoret  that  h?  exercised  a  strong  and  salutary 
influence  over  the  nomadic  Saracen  tiibes,  converting  many 
hundreds  and  even  thousands  to  Christianity,  besides  being 
the  shrewd  and  trusted  adviser,  not  only  of  the  peasants 
who  flocked  to  him  for  coimsel,  but  of  Arab  princes,  Per- 
sian kings,  and  even  Eoman  emperors.  He  cannot  be 
judged,  therefore,  by  ordinary  standards,  and  it  is  more 
than  likely  that  a  less  extraordinary  mode  of  life  would 
have  given  him  less  power  for  good ;  but  he  is  the  only 
eminent  figvire  in  the  class  to  which  he  belongs,  and  the 
fashion  he  set  may  be  said  to  have  died  out  with  his  name- 
sake, the  younger  Simeon,  a  century  later.  Even  when 
the  healthier  side  of  monachism  as  it  appeared  in  Egypt 
and  Syria  is  dwelt  upon,  and  the  fullest  weight  is  allowed 
to  the  contemporary  pictures  drawn  by  great  Christian 
writers  of  the  monasteries  as  schools  of  a  philosophy  truer 
and  purer  than  that  of  the  Porch  or  the  Academy,  as 
places  where  the  equality  and  brotherhood,  merely  dreamed 
of  as-vmrealizable  fancies  in  the  outer  world,  could  be  seen  in 
living  action — where  children,  deserted  by  their  parents  or 
other^wise  orphaned,  ■n-ere  carefully  reared — where  the  sick 
were  lovingly  tended — where  calmness,  piety,  and  self-for- 
getfulness  were  the  rule  of  all, — it  must  be  confessed  that 
the  complaint  of  the  Government,  embodied  in  the  hostile 
legislation  of  the  emperor  Valens  in  373,  subjecting 
monks  to  the  conscription  (which  drew  forth  an  indignant 
protest  from  Chrysostom),  that  monachism  was  injurious 
to  society  and  to  the  healthy  condition  of  civil  life  by 
draining  off  so  large  a  fraction  of  the  population  into  tht 
backwater  of  the  cloister,  was  perfectly  well  founded. 
And  no  small  part  of  the  overthrow  of  Christianity  in 
Egypt  and  Syria  by  Islam  is  due  to  the  practical  with 
drawal  of  all  the  devout  from  family  and  public  life,  leaving 
no  spiritual  energy  to  cope  ■with  the  Koran  in  the  towns 
and  villages  whither  the  conquering  Arabs  came  to  settle 
and  proselytize. 

The  history  of  monachism  in  the  West  is  far  more  varied,  Pi-opajn« 
chequered,  and   interesting   than  in  the  East.     It  takes  •j"'^;" 
its  beginning  from  the  visit  of  Athanasius  to  Home  in  "'    "  • 
340,  during  his  second  term  of  exile,  when  he  brought 
with  him  his  Life  of  St  Anthony,  and  pressed  his  example 
on  the  Roman  Christians  who  mourned  as  patriots,  not  less 
than  as  devotees,  over  the  lax  and  enervated  habits  of 
society.     The  popular  imagination  was  caught  at  once, 
and  not  only  was  the  basis  of  monachism  successfully  laid 
in  Rome   itself,   but  Eusebius  of  Vercslli  introduced  it 


-02 


M  0   N   A  C  H  I  S  M 


into  northern  Italy,  where  it  was' fostered  a  little  later 
by  the  illustrious  An-?-rose  at  Milan,  v  From  the  very 
bei^iiming  a  marked  dih'erence  shows  itself  in  the  spirit  of 
Western  monachism  as  compared  with  the  parent  institute 
in  the  East.  Parfh"  from  dissimilarity  of  climate,  but  still 
inrre  from  that  of  racial  and  national  temperament,  there 
has  always  been  less  tendency  in  the  West  to  either  abstract 
contemplation  or  severe  self-torture,  such  as  is  equally 
common  to  many  of  the  Eg)'i3tian  or  Syrian  ascetics  and 
to  the  Jogis  of  Hindustan.  Hard  work,  with  due  inter- 
vals far  food  and  recreation,  occupied  all  that  part  of  a 
Western  monk's  time  which  was  not  devoted  to  prayer  or 
study,  and  a  careful  apportionment  of  his  duties  through- 
out the  day  gave  each  hour  its  appointed  task  to  be  ful- 
filled, leaving  very  few  loose  ends  of  time  to  be  wasted. 
It  is  true  that  the  Basilian  rule  aimed  at  this  same  end, 
and  that  a  very  minute  time-table  forms  a  part  of  other 
early  Eastern  codes ;  but,  as  already  remarked,  the  work 
was  neither  hard  enough  nor  abundant  enough  to  provide 
rjally  healthy  labour,  or  to  occupy  tbe  mind  sufficiently 
to  keep  it  from  vague  speculation  or  morbid  brooding  dur- 
ing the  hours  of  so-called  toil.'  From  this  fundamental 
unlikeness  springs  the  broad  distinction  between  the  two 
types  of  the  monastic  life,  in  that  the  West  did  not  merely 
provide  shelter  for  such  as  felt  unable  to  endure  the  storms 
of  the  world,  leaving  secular  society  to  take  care  of  itself 
as  best  it  could,  but,  contrariwise,  employed  the  cloister 
far  more  as  a  training-school  for  the  strong,  as  the  stand- 
point whence  to  work  the  lever  which  moved  a  world. 
Even  the  more  remotely  secluded  monasteries  of  the  West, 
instead  of  serving  as  refuges  wherein  the  inmates  might 
effectually  cut  thems'elves^  off  from  all  iutercourse  from 
without,  were  rather  military  outposts  and  frontier  forts 
of  eiviUzation,  which  taught  the,  arts  of  peace,  the  pro- 
cesses of  agriculture,  and  at  least  'the  rudiments  of  social 
morality,' to^  the  rude- and  ^almost  nomadic  hunters  and 
forayers,  of  whom  many  of  the  wilder  tribes  in  outlj-ing 
districts  consisted.  And  if  such  was  the  case  even  where 
the  conditions  seemed  least  favourable,  it  may  readily  be 
understood  what  an  ample  field  for  exertion  the  more 
settled  regions  provided.-' 

It  would  seem  that  it  was  some  modmcation  of  the 
Pacjiomian  rule , which  f.rst  made  its  way  into  Europe, 
but  the  interest  excited  by  the  movement  led  to  variety 
of  choice  on  the  part  of  tho  teachers  who  aimed  at  spreading 
its  influence  in  Italy.  Thus,  Urseus,  abbot  of  Pinetum 
(probably  near  Ravenna),  translated  the  Basilian  rule  into 
Latin,  and  it  soon  took  root  in  southern  Italy,  where  it 
'continued  to  hold  its  ground  for  a  considerable  time. 
But  a  far  more  important  part  in  the  propagation  of  the 
monastic  institute  in  the  West  was  taken  by  Jerome,  who, 
after  spending  a  considerable  time,  beginning  in  374,4 
first  as  %  hermit  in  the  desert  of  jChalcis,  and  later  at 
Constantinople,  returned  to  Rome  in  382,  where  ho 
was  secretary  to  Pope  Damasus.  He  acquired  much 
influence  over  a  distinguished  group  of  Roman  ladies  of 
hi"h  social  po'sition,  the  most  celebrated  of  whom  are 
Paula,  and  her  daughters  Blesilla  and  Eustochium,  and 
employed  that  influence  in  urging  the  adoption  of  the 
monastic  life  upon  them.  Blesilla  died  early,  it  ^vas  said 
and  believed  in  consequence  of  austerities  pressed  upon 
her  which  her  constitution  was  unable  to  bear;  and  the 
unpopularity  which  this  report  brought  upon  Jerome, 
co-operating  with  the  death  of  his  patron  Damasus  and 
other  causes,  drove  him.  bade  to  the  East,  whitlier  Paula 
and  Eustochium  also  betook  themselves,  finally  settling 
down  in  Bethlehem,  vrhevi  the  elder  lady  built  three  con- 
vents, of  one  of  which  she  was  superior,  while  Jerome,  who 
similarly  erected  a  monastery  for  monks  in  tho  immediate 
vicinity,  acted  as  chaplain  and  director  to  tho  community. 


As  the  taste  for  pilgrimages  had  already  become«diep!y 
rooted,  the  convent  at  Bethlehem  was  ere  long  a  favourite 
resort  of  pilgrims,  and  exerted  considerable  influence  in 
prompting   the   erection,  of    similar   foundations   in   the 
West.     Quite  another  impulse  was  given  to  the  further- 
ance of  monachism  by  Augustine.      While,  amongst  the 
many  documents  which  have  been  ascribed  to  him,  the  only 
one  which  is  of  the  nature  of  a  monastic  code  is  his  109th 
Epistle,  addressed  in  terms  of  severe  reproval  to  the  nuns 
of  a  convent  he  had  himself  founded  at  Hippo,  but  which 
had  fallen  away  from   discipline,  his  personal   example 
gave  rise  to  a  new  type  of  the  common  life,  in  that  he 
formed  a  sort  of  college  of  priests,  who  shared  the  episcopal 
house  with  him,  ate  at  a  comijion  table,  and  copied  in 
other  particulars  the  observances  of  monasterie*  but  with- 
out losing  their  secular  character.     This  was  the  origin  of 
the  institute  afterwards  famous  as  the  Austin  Canons,  'a 
foundation  of  the  11th  century.-'  It  is  true  that  Eusehius 
of   Yercelli  had  anticipated  Augustine  by  collecting  the 
clergy  of  his  cathedral  (and,  as  it  would  seem,  tiie  remain-" 
ing  ecclesiastics  of  the  city)  into  a  common  dwelling,  but 
the  difference  in  his  case  was  that  he  obliged  them  to  adopt 
the  habit  and  style  of  monks,  and  thus  was  in  no  sense  the 
originator  of  a  new  institute.     Another  important  contri- 
bution of  Augustine's  to  the  history  of  the  common  life  is 
his  treatise  Se  Opere  Mo7iachoruin,  wherein  he  sets  forth  the 
imperative  need  of  making  hard  work  an  invariable  factor 
of  the  monastic  profession,   notably  on  the  ground  that 
most  of  the  monks  in  Africa  came  from  the  lower  ranks  . 
of  society,  such  as  freedmen,  farm-labourers,  and  artisans, 
who  were  spiritually  injured  by  being  raised  into  a  grade 
viewed  witli  more 'general  respect  than  that  from  which 
they  had  sprung,  while  they  were  actually  subject  to  fswer 
privations  and  lighter  employment  than  they  had  been 
accustomed  to.      And  he  adds  that  amongst  other  "evil 
consequences  of  this  idleness  was  that  they  were  found 
tramping   the   country  selling   sham   relics,   which   they 
palmed  off  on   the   unwary,   extorting   money  in   other 
fashions  also,  and  bringing  discredit  on  their  profession 
by  their   hypocrisy  and  vices — a  picture  only  too  faith- 
fully repeated  by  the  Mendicants  a  thousand  years  after 
the  date  of  this  treatise.     The  5th  century  was  one  of 
rapid  progress  in  the  spread  of  monachism  in  the  Vrest. 
Chief  amongst  those  who  heli>ed  to  popularize  it  stands 
the  name  of  John  Cassian  (3-50-433),  a  monk  of  Bethlehem, 
who   made  a  long   and   careful  study  of  the  Egyptian 
forms -of  monacliism,  of  which  he  has  bequeathed  us  valu- 
able details  in  his  De  Insiitiitione  Ccenobioniin  and  Col- 
laiiones  Patrum,  tho  former  of  which  is  a  treatise  on  the 
monastic  life,  and  indeed  virtually  a  rule,  though  a  som.e- 
what  prolix  one,  mainly  derived  from  Macarius,  while  the 
latter  is  a  record  of  the  teachings  of  some  hermits  of  the 
desert  of  Scete.  '   Both  of  these  works  exercised  a  powerful 
influence  in  their  o%\'n  day,  and  the  second  retained  its 
repute  much  longer,  having  been  warmly  approved  and 
recommended   for    study    by   Benedict,    Bruno,'  Dominic, 
and  Ignatius  Loyola,  all  four  founders  of  celclirated  orders. 
Cassian  fixed  himself  at  Marseilles,  whete  he  founded  a 
famous  monastery  of.  which  he  was  probably  abbot,  and 
which   was   the   centre   -H-hence    monachi.^m,    uniting   the 
peculiarities  of  East  and  West,  was  jiropagated  in  southern 
Gaul,    and    notably    planted    in     the    island    of    Leriiis, 
which    became   the   seat   o£   one   of   the   most    em;"<'nt 
monasteries   of   the  early  Jliddle  Ages.     Northern   Gaul 
had   received    the   institute    earlier    through  .the   agency 
of    Martin,    bishop   of    Tours    (3IG-397),    who   founded 
monasteries  near  Poitiers  and  in  his  own  diocese,  which 
were  soon  thronged,  so  that  his  funeral  was  attended  b; 
two  thousand  monjcs.     Spain  was  even  earlier  in  the  fielc 
than  Gaul,  but  there  is  some  obscurity  as  to  the_historj 


Tvl  0  N  A  0  H  I  S  M 


703 


of  the  introduction  of  mciacliis.ci  there,  aU  that  is  certain 
being  that  it  had  made  its  footing  good  before  380,  the 
date  of  a  council  of  Saragossa  (Caesaraugusfa)  which  for- 
bade priests  to  assume  the  monkish  habit.  Still  more 
obscurity  hangs  over  the  first  establishment  of  monachism 
in  Britain,  as  to  which  no  trustworthy  records  have  come 
down  to  us,  though  all  probability  points  to  its  importation 
from  Gaul  in  some  variety  of  the  Pachomian  rule ;  while 
Germany  did  not  receive  the  institute  till  tha  following 
centuj-y. 

It  must  not  be  supposed,  however,  that  the  principle  of 
monachism  met  with  no  opposition  in  the  course  of  its 
progress.  Apart  from  the  opposition  of  those  who  disliked 
it  precisely  for  its  merits,  for  its  protest  against  the 
dissolute  morals  and  enervated  habits  of  a  luxurious  and 
rotting  society,  and  for  the  manner  in  which  it  won  to 
itself  many  of  the  noblest  and  most  promising  of  the 
young  and  ardent  of  both  sexes,  and  without  taking  into 
account  the  more  reasonable  objections  of  statesmen,  there 
were  not  lacking  warnings  of  the  dangers  attending 
exaggerations  of  the  principle  of  monachism,  uttered  by 
some  of  its  most  eminent  upholders.  Augustine's  sharp 
censures  have  been  already  mentioned,  and  to  them  may 
be  added  the  decrees  of  the  council  of  Gangra  in  363, 
or  thereabouts,  which  anathematize  those  who  adopt  a 
celibate  life  on  the  ground  that  marriage  is  evil,  who  wear 
a  peculiar  dress  as  a  mark  of  holiness,  condemning  such 
as  use  ordinary  clothing,  or  who  desert  their  parents  or 
children  dependent  on  them  under  the  plea  of  desiring  to 
lead  an  ascetic  life.  So,  too,  the  great  Chrysostom,  him- 
self a  warm  advocate  of  monachism,  found  himself  obliged 
to  teach  his  flock  the  sanctity  of  Christian  family  life,  and 
the  truth  that  there  was  often  as  much  selfishness  as  piety 
in  retirement  to  a  hermitage  from  the  cares  and  duties  of 
society.  •  These  arguments  and  decisions  were,  however, 
aimed  only  at  abuses  and  exaggerations  of  the  monastic 
idea.  It  remained  for  Jovinian  and  Vigilantius  to  assail  the 
actual  principle.  Their  writings  have  not  survived,  and 
we  can  judge  of  their  arguments  only  from  the  account 
given  of  them  by  their  chief  opponent  Jerome,  whose 
eminent  gifts,  however,  did  not  include  either  moderation 
or  controversial  fairness,  so  that  it  is  not  safe  to  assume 
that  we  have  all  their  case  before  us.  As  regards 
,Vigilantiu3,  he  accurately  represents  the  Puritan  type  of 
mind  protesting  against  the  external  part  of  the  popular 
religion  of  his  day,  often  with  good  reason,  but  also  show- 
ing equal  intolerance  for  harmless,  if  not  useful,  practices ; 
so  that  his  condemnation  of  monachism  is  only  part  of  his 
general  objection  to  the  temper  of  his  time.  But  Jovinian's 
objections  seem  to  have  gone  deeper.  He  had  been  him- 
self a  monk  (and  indeed  never  resumed  secular  life),  but 
he  disputed  absolutely  the  thesis  that  any  merit  lay  in 
monachism,  celibacy,  fasting,  and  asceticism  considered  in 
themselves,  save  in  so  far  as  they  contributed  to  foster  the 
Christian  temper  and  life,  which  might  and  did  flourish 
equally,  he  urged,  under  quite  different  conditions,  whue 
it  was  by  no  means  unfrequent  for  spiritual  pride,  if  not 
Manichaean  error,  to  lay  hold  of  those  who  devoted  them- 
selves to  the  ascetic  profession.  This  was,  in  fact,  going 
very  little  further  than  Chrysostom  had  done,  or  than 
Xilus  did  a  short  time  later.  But  Jovinian's  divergence 
from  the  standard  of  his  day  was  not  confined  to  practical 
questions ;  it  extended  to  theological  doctrines  also,  and 
jw;cor.dingly  his  strictures  on  monachism,  probably  more 
incisive  and  less  qualified  than  those  of  its  other  critics, 
were  involved  in  his  condemnation  as  a  heretic  by  synods 
at  Rome  and  Milan  in  390.  The  reaction,  of  which  he 
may  be  regarded  as  the  mouthpiece  rather  than  as  the 
sole  representative,  was  thus  effectually  crushed,  and  that 
for  centuries.     And  though  Jovinian  is  undoubtedly  more 


in  accord  than  his  opponents  with  the  modem  temper  on 
the  subject  of  monachism,  and  while  it  may  be  allowed 
that  his  teaching  might  have  been  a  useful  corrective  in 
Eastern  Christendom,  where  family  Ufe  was  all  but  over- 
borne by  asceticism,  yet  the  impartial  historian  must 
admit  that  his  success  would  have  been  an  irreparable 
misfortune  for  civilization  in  the  West.  Such  a  dispas- 
sionate estimate  of  asceticism  asjiis,  if  widely  entertained, 
would  have  been  fatal  to  the  spread  of  monachism,  and 
thus  one  of  the  most  important  conservative  and  statical 
forces  in  the  preservation  of  the  older  culture,  one  of  the 
most  powerful  dynamical  forces  in  reducing  the  chaotic 
materials  of  early  mediaeval  society  to  order  and  coherence, 
would  have  been  lost  to  Europe;  nor  is  it  easy  to  conjecture 
what  effectual  substitute  could  have  taken  its  place.  As 
it  was,  the  movement  was  not  checked  for  a  moment  by 
this  partial  reaction ;  and  not  only  did  the  older  com- 
munities thrive  and  spread  during  the  5th  and  early  6th 
centuries,  but  new  ones  were  established, — chief  among 
which  stand  those  of  Csesarius  of  Aries  and  of  Donatus 
of  Besan^ou  in  southern  Gaul,  that  of  Isidore  of  Seville 
in  Spain,  and  the  early  Celtic  code,  of  which  only  tradi- 
tional fragments  survive,  but  which  seems  in  Britain  to 
have  been  strongly  affected  by  tribal  influences,  so  that 
a  monastery  was  often  recruited  from  a  single  clan,  and 
the  abbacy  became  hereditary  in  the  family  of  the  chief- 
tain, a  fact  which  is  noticeable  even  in  the  succession  of 
the  abbots  of  lona,  who  for  ten  elections  after  Columba 
were  of  his.  family  in  the  tribe  of  Conall  Gulban.^ 

But,  swiftly  as  monachism  spread  in  Europe  during  the 
breaking-up  of  the  Western  empire,  some  of  the  causes 
which  hastened  its  progress  also  tended  to  its  rapid  de- 
cay. The  disturbed  state  of  society,  and,  in  particular,  the 
prevalence  of  petty  warfare,  drove  many  thousands  of 
persons  to  seek  a  quiet  refuge  in  the  cloister  without  any 
more  directly  religious  motive.  When  once  there,  they 
found  in  every  place  some  rule  in  force  which  was  either 
imported  directly  from  Egypt  or  Syria,  or  else,  like  that 
of  Caesarius,  modelled  on  Eastern  lines,  and  therefore 
ill  suited  to  the  severer  climate  of  Europe  and  the  more 
active  habits  of  the  people.  The  austerities  were  thus  too 
oppressive  for  general  observance,  and  the  result  was  a 
widespread  neglect  of  nilea  which  continued  nominally  in 
force,  while  at  the  same  time  the  very  monks  who  had 
ceased  to  keep  them  laid  claim  to  special  sanctity  on  the 
pretence  of  their  strict  way  of  life.  The  time  was  ripe 
for  a  reform,  or  rather  for  a  wholly  new  departure  in 
the  shape  of  a  rule  devised  to  meet  Western  needs,  and 
not  merely  adapted  more  or  less  clumsily  from  Oriental 
asceticism.  The  fitting  man  to  accomplish  this  difilcult 
task  appeared  in  the  person  of  Benedict  of  Nursia,  author 
of  the  most  famoxis  of  all  monastic  codes.  Bom  of  a 
respectable  family  about  480,  he  adopted  the  ascetic  life 
at  fourteen  in  a  cave  near  Subiaco,  not  far  from  Rome, 
where  he  remained  for  three  years,  at  the  expiration 
of  which  he  was  chosen  abbot  of  a  neighbouring  con- 
vent, then  in  a  very  relaxed  state.  His  rule  proved 
too  stem  for  his  new  subjects,  who  attempted  to  poison 
him,  whereupon  he  resigned  his  office  and  returned 
to  Subiaco,  around  which  he  soon  erected  twelve  monas- 
teries, each  peopled  by  an  abbot  and  twelve  monks. 
Fresh  attempts  on  his  life  and  on  the  discipline  of  his 
society  drove  him  out  again  in  the  year  528,  when  he  fixed 
his  dwelling  at  Monte  Cassino,  the  place  where  his  cele- 
brated rule  was  drafted  in  the  following  year,  and  which 
has  ever  since  prided  itself  on  its  rank  as  the  cradle  of  the 
Benedictine  Order  and  the  premier  abbey  of  Western 
Christendom.      The   famous   institute  which  he  devibcd 


'  AdamDan,  T'l't  Columb.,  ed.  Reeves. 


704 


Rule  ot 

Bene* 

diet. 


has  a  great  surface  likeness  to  the  rule  of  Basil,  which 
alone  has  rivalled  it  in  permanence,  though  far  below  it 
m  diffusion  and,  it  may  be  added,  in  services  to  humanity 
Superior  in  flexibility  and  in  the  power  of  adapting  itself 
Vn  new  conditions  of  circumstance  and  society  to  any  rule 
which  preceded  it  (and  indeed  to  most  of  those  devised 
later),  the  effect  it  produced  in  its  own  immediafe  day  and 
for  several  centuries  afterwards  is  almost  incalculable 
„iv>,    ■?"•  ""I™"',  ^""'"'ty:  worship,  study,  and  work;  such 
are  the  ideas  and  employments  with  which  this  code  of  seventy- three 
chapters  is  occupied.     It  opens  with  a  sermonet  or  hortatory  preface 
and  then  proceeds  to  define  the  e.^sting  classes  of  monks,  as  divided 
into  Ccenobites,  Anchorets,  Sarabaites,  living  by  twos  and  threes 
together  without  any  fixed  rule  or  lawful  superior,  and  Gyrovari 
vagrant  tramps  y,ho,  even  at  that  time,  as  more  than  a  century 
earlier,  continued  to  bring  discredit  on  the  monastic  profession      It 
was  one  great  aifn  of  the  Benedictine  reform  to  extirpate  these  Uvo 
latter  classes,  and  the  method  adopted  was  the  addition  of  a  fourth 
vow,  that  of  "  subility,"  to  the  three  usual  pledges.     This  fourth 
vow  bound  the  monk  to  continuance  in  his  profession,  and  even  to 
residence  for  life  at  the  monastery  in  which  he  was  professed,  unless 
temporary  absence  or  permanent  transfer  were  permitted  by  the 
authonties   and  thus  struck  directly  against  the  temper  of  restless- 
.    nes3  and  desue  for  change  which  were  such  powerful  factors  in 
generating  the  irregular  and  wandering  classes  just  named.     Chapter 
11.  describes  the  nualities  of  an  abbot,  and  also  decrees  that  no  dis- 
tinctions of  worldly  rank  or  station  are  to  be  recognized  amonc^st 
the  imnates  of  the  monastery.     Chapter  iii.  is  one  of  those  whi^h 
best  enable  us  to  estimate  the  foresight  and  good  sense  of  Bene- 
dict     It  enacts  that  the  abbot  is  to  call  the  entire  bodv  of  the 
Z.^Y'1  l°ffl   l'  '\<J'="^'-tt^  on  any  weighty  matter,  and  not  to 
decide  It  tllT  he  has  heard  the  counsel  of  even  the  very  youngest ; 
while  m  matters  of  less  moment  consultation  with  the  elder  members 
suttees      Chapter  iv.  enumerates  the  instruments  of  good  works 
summed  up  in  seventy-two  pithy  maxims,  mainly  SoriptSral  in  letter 
or  spuit     Chapter  v.  is  on  the  obecUence  of  disciples.     Chapter  vi 
13  on  siJence,  recommending  spareness  and  wholesomeness  of  speech' 
but  not  laying  down  any  hard-and-fast  rules  such  as  those  of  the 
Trappists  of  a  later  day.     Chapter  vii,  treats  of  humility,  includin- 
JS''""^u'Tl '"/'"'  T}'^  '"  ""f'^^s  his  secret  faults  and  thoughts  tS 
the  abbot,  to  do  nothing  but  what  the  common  rule  or  the  examole 
of  his  seniors  teaches,  and  to  exhibit  lowliness  and  meekness  in  out- 
ward beanng  as  well  as  in  the  inward  spirit,     Chaptei-s  U.-xx.  are 
occupied  with  directions  about  the  performance  of  Divine  service 
so  far  as  relates  to  the  recitation  of  the  Canonical  Hours,  seven  of 
day  and  one  of  the   night.     Chapter  xxi.   provides  for  the 
appointment  of  deans  (officers  over  ten  monks)  in  large  monasteries 
to  be  chosen  by  merit,  and  not  by  mere  seniority.     Chapter  xxii 
prescribes  rules  for  the  dormitory,  each  monk  to  have  a  separat^ 
bed  with  suitable  coverings,  and  to  sleep  in  his  habit,  and  ^irded 
50  as  to  be  ready  to  rise  at  a  moments  notice,  and  a  light  is  to  be 
kept  burning;  m  the  dormitory  till  morning.     Eight  chapters  (xxiii.  - 
X.X.X.)  then  deal  with  offenders,  a  graduated  scale  of  penalties  being 
provided:   first    private   admonition;   next,   separation    from  thi 
brethren  at  meals  and  recreation  ;  then  scourging;  and,  finally   ex- 
pulsion m  the  case  of  hardened  olTenders,  but  not  until  the  abbot 
has  used  every  means  to  soften  and  reclaim  them.     Even  in  this  last 
event   the  outcast  may  be  received  again,  and  that  thrice,  on  the 
T.„     aV   .;?  fi^"?  his  seniority  and  descending  to  the  lowest 
place.    After  the  thud  expulsion,  return  was  finally  barred.    Chapter 
Jjxx.  ,s  on  the  character  and  duties  of  the  cellarer,  an  imporL[ 
oltcer  in  monasteries  ;  who  was  steward,  and  had  the  charge  of  all 
the  stores,  and  the  responsibility  of  serving  them  out  as  needed  j 
while  the  next  chapter  provides  for  the  appointment  of  inferior 
?„„  mM»^'  ''1"""°  "l'^'  '°°'''  '^'"^''-  ™'l  "ther  goods  belong- 
i^£l»   „  monastery      Chapter  xxxiii.  prohibits  any  monk  to  giv?, 
receive,  or  keep  aught  as  his  o^vn  without  leave  of  the  abbot   whi 
IS   however,  bound  to  supply  him  with  all  necessaries.     Murm'urin" 
at  anything  in  the  manner  of  distiibution  is  censured  in  the  nen 
chapter  as  a  very  grave  offence.     Chapter  x..xv.  ordains  that  the 

reason  of  sickness  or  some  more  unportant  occupation,  and  that  who- 
ever IS  on  duty  on  Saturday  is  to  clean  up  for  the  week  and  tn 
deliver  all  the  cloths  and  utensils  to  the  cellarer  i .  good  clntdition 
for  his  successor  in  office.  Chapter  xxxvi. .  while  warnin-  the  s  ck 
not  to  be  impatient  or  exacting,  gives  careful  direotions°for  their 
CO  nfort  They  are  to  be  placed  in  an  infirmary  and  to  be  com- 
mitted to  the  care  of  a  competent  attendant,  are  to  be  allowed  baths 
.-la  olten  as  is  expedient,  and  a  flesh  diet  to  promote  their  recovery 
though  agsinst  the  rule  for  those  in  health.  Old  men  and  children 
are  also  to  bo  dispensed  from  the  rigour  of  the  rule,  and  they  may 
have  their  meals  before  the  usual  hours,  instead  of  waiting  for  the 
others.  Chapter  xxxviii.  directs  that  reading  aloud  duiin-  meals 
M  to  be  practised,  and  that  no  conversation,  even  about  the°subiect 
of  the  reading,  is  to  be  carried  ou  by  the  brotUrgu  who  are  to  keen 


M  O  N  A  0  H  I  S  M 


It-  I  aT^  "^1  '^  '^'y  """^  anything.  The  reader  is  to  be 
appointed  for  a  week  and  to  enter  upon  his  duties  on  Sunday  He 
IS  to  be  allowed  a  ittle  food  before  heldnning  his  task,  lest  he  should 
become  famt,  and  is  to  finish  bis  meal  afterwards  along  with  the 
kitcheners  and  waiters.  And  the  readers  are  not  to  t.4e  turns  of 
auty  ui  order,  but  only  such  persons  are  to  be  appointed  as  can  dis- 
charge the  office  satisfactorily.    Chapters  .x.xxix.  and  xl  prescribe  the 

tftU^'Tfr"^  r^■^'°'^■  ^™  ""^^^  ^^^  UlowXcon"4ng 
ol  t^^o  cooked  d^hes  ipubuclaria),  to  permit  a  choice  of  food,  lest 
one  or  other  dish  should  be  unsuitable  to  any  one,  and  a  third  dish 
ot  truit  or  youn- vegetables  is  granted  as  an  occasional  addition 
A  pound  of  bread  IS  to  be  served  out  daily  for  each,  though  the  abbot 
IS  empowered  to  increase  the  rations  of  such  as  had  extra  hard  work 
to  do;  while  the  rations  of  children  are  to  bo  proportionably 
dmiin.shed  and  flesh-meat  is  forbidden  to  aU  except  tfie  sick  and 
weak,  but  there  is  no  prohibition  of  any  flesh  save  that  of  four-footed 
beasts,  thus  leavmg  the  use  of  poultry,  eggs,  and  fish  optional 
One  pint  of  wine  daily  is  allowed  to  each  monk,  but  the  hesitation 
r,;,^  '''^'J*^}^  '^  conceded  is  noteworthy  ;  and,  while  the  prior  is 
empowered  to  increase  the  allowance  if  he  judge  it  well,  the  brethren 
are  told  that  voluntary  abstinence  is  the  best  course,  and  that  where 
a  house  IS  too  poor  to  brovide  wine  those  debarred  from  it  are  not 
to  murmur      Chapter  xli  prescribes  the  hours  for  meals  at  different 

bv  davlilt  1^1"%'"'  ^V",«  ^^^^  '^^^  '"'"'  "«als  shaU  be  taken 
by  daj  h^ht,  without  need  of  lamps.     Chapter  xlii.  directs  the  monks 

of  ra,<Z  f"ll  ri"""«  "^"r  ^  ''^^^-  P'-^f^'-ably  of  the  CoUatu>,u 
of  Cassian,  followed  by  compline,  after  wtich  silence  is  to  be  strictly 
observed,  save  for  some  necessary  cause.  Chaptei-s  xliii.-xlvi  im- 
pose  penalties  for  mijior  breaches  of  rule,  such  as  coming  late  to 
prayers  or  meals.  Chapter  xlvu.  gives  some  further  directions  as 
to  Divine  service,  throwing  on  the  abbot  or  his  deputy  the  responsi- 
baity  of  notifying  the  hour  for  it,  ard  provides  thlt  no  incompetent 
person  shaU  be  set  to  chant  or  read.  Chapter  xlviii.,  although 
brief,  ,s  one  of  the  most  important  and  characteristic  in  the  rule 
It  IS  on  daily  manual  labour,  and  begins  with  the  pithy  axiom' 
Idleness  is  an  enemy  of  the  soul"  (Otiositas  inimimcstanimm) 
It  proceeds  to  enjoin  that  the  brethren  are  to  distribute  the  time 
not  already  taken  up  ^v,th  prayer,  meals,  and  sleep,  into  periods  of 
manual  labour  or  devout  reading.  From  Easter  till  the  1st  October 
they  are  to  work  from  prime  till  the  fourth  hour.     From  the  fourth 

tilT^fZ  :'"  '•' ^'v  ^'"'  }^'y  ^"  *°  '•"'^'  On  rising  from  meal- 
time alter  the  sixth  hour  they  are  to  rest  in  silence  on  their  beds— 
the  lamUiar  ««ta  of  warm  countries— but  those  who  prefer  to  read 
may  do  so,  provided  they  disturb  no  one.  Nones  are  to  be  s2d 
about  the  middle  of  the  eighth  hour  (2,30  p.m.),  and  then  work  U 
to  be  resumed  till  evening.  From  the  1st  October  till  the  heginuinc 
»L  •'^T''''  ^  ';,?\ «'l.the  second  hour,  then  to  saf  terce" 
after  which  to  work  till  the  ninth  hour.  At  the  ninth  hoLr  they 
are  to  leave  off  work,  and  after  their  meal  to  read  spiritual  books  or 
the  Psalms.  In  Lent  they  are  to  read  from  the  morning  tUl  the 
third  hour,  then  to  work  till  the  end  of  the  tenth  hour.     And  every 

rfLZi°  Yr  \        '■  f'^l"  ?"'  '°  '""^  ''™"  *!"'  'i''™>-y  at  the  be- 
ginning of  Lent,  which  he  is  to  read  through  ;  whUe  tivo  senior 
brethren  are  to  go  the  rounds  during  reading  hours  to  see  that  tie 
monks  are  actually  reading,  and  neither  lounging  nor  gossiping 
On  Sunda)^  all  are  to  read  throughout  the  day,  except  sucl  as^"fe 
special  duties  to  discharge  ;  and  Tf  there  be  any  who  either  cannot 
or  will  not  read  or  meditate,  some  task  to  keep  them  from  idling  is 
to  be  assigned  them.     Sickly  and  delicate  brethren  are  to  be  rifeu 
light  work,  suitable  to  their  health.     Chapter  xlix.  suggests,  t-ilh- 
out  commanding,  the  adoption  of  some  voluntary  self-dl^al  durine 
Lent,  to  be  undertaken  with  the  abbot's  approval  only, -austerities 
without  such  sanction  being  denounced  as  vainglorious.     Chapter 
1,  directs  that  brethren  who  work  at  a  distance,  so  as  to  be  unable 
to  attend  common  prayer,  are  to  recite  the  oflice  where  they  may 
happen  to  be.     Chapter  li.  prescribes  that  monks  sent  on  an  errand 
and  expecting  to  return  the  same  day,  are  not  to  eat  while  out' 
unless  they  have  special  leave  from  the  abbot.     Chapter  Hi.  rives  a 
few  directions  as  to  behaviour  in  the  oratory.     Chapter  liii.  contains 
rules  for  the  entertainment  of  guests.     The  most  noteworthy  pro- 
visions are  that  the  abbot  is  licensed  to  break  his  fast  with  th. 
guests   unless  on  a  church  fast-day,  in  order  to  bear  them  company 
at  meal-tunes  ;  that  the  kitchen  for  the  abbot  and  guests  is  to  be 
separate  from  the  general  kitchen,  and  served  by  the  s.-.mo  two 
brethren  for  a  year,  to  insure  that  no  additional  labour  may  fall  on 
the  ordinary  kitcheners  through  the  une.x]iected  arrivals  of  strangers 
needing  to  be  fed  ;  that  the  guest-room  be  entrusted  to  a  brother 
(the  hospitaller),  and  that  no  monk  shall  speak  to  or  mix  with  the 
fn'vi!'™'";-^^  ''y.'P^f'"'  appointmcnt-a  very  salutary  regulation, 
»n,   ,h  u   "">  ?;'««"a>>eous  rout  of  visitors  lilely  to  apply  for  food 
and  shelter     Chapter  l.v.  forbids  monks  to  receiVe  letters,  tokens, 
or  gifts,  even  from  their  nearest  kin,  without  the  abbots  permis: 
sion,  or  to  give  any  such  things  to  another  ;  and  the  abbot  is  em-'' 
powered  to  transfor>rcsents  to  some  person  other  thnn  him  for  whom' 


fi  „.,  „.  .-■-■— -i"'-^;-""  lu  »onio  person  otiier  thnn  him  lor  whom' 
nZZr  '"'""'''•^  .Chapter  Iv.  prescribes  the  dress,  and,  with' 
Benedic  a  usual  good  sense,  leaves  it  wholly  in  the  abbot's  dis-' 
cretion  to  provide  clothing  suitable  to  the  climate  and  Uocalily 


MDNAC.HISM 


705 


merely  ruling  that  in  temperate  pUcea  a  cowl  and  tunic,  thick  in 
winter  and  tUin  in  aummer,  with  a  scapular  (a  sleeveless  woollen 
uarment  passed  over  the  head,  and  falling  down  over  the  breast  and 
5ack)  for  work  hours,  as  also  shoes  and  stockings,  all  of  the  ordinary 
<'ountry  make  and  cheapest  kind,  shall  suffice.  Each  monk  is  to 
have  a  change  of  these  garments,  to  allow  of  washing,  and  yet 
another  for  use  when  sent  on  a  journey,  to  be  of  rather  better 
materials,  and  to  be  kept  in  the  general  wardrobe  when  not  in  actual 
wear.  The  old  clothes  are  to  be  given  up  when  new  ones  are  served 
out,  and  are  to  be  laid  by  in  the  wardrobe  for  the  poor.  A  straw 
mattress,  blanket,  quilt,  and  pillow  are  to  bo  furnished  for  each 
bed  ;  and  in  addition  the  abbot  is  to  give  every  monk  a  knife,  a 
pen,  a  needle,  a  handkerchief,  and  tablets.  Chapter  Ivi  rules  that 
the  abbot  is  to  take  his  meals  with  the  guests  and  strangers,  with 
the  privilege,  if  guests  be  few,  of  inviting  any  of  the  brethren  he 
•chooses,  so  long  as  some  seniors  are  left  in  charge.  Chapter  Ivii. 
prescribes  that  craftsmen  amongst  the  brethren  are  to  work  with  the 
abbot's  permission,  and  if  their  work  is  to  be  for  sale,  those  who  are 
entrusted  with  making  the  bargains  are  to  deal  honestly  with  pur- 
chasers, and  to  sell  rather  below  the'current  trade  price.  Chapter 
IviiL  lays  down  the  rules  for  the  admission  of  new  members.  It  is 
not  to  be  made  too  easy.  The  postulant  is  to  be  allowed  to  knock 
for  entrance  in  vain  for  four  or  five  days,  then  to  be  brought  into 
the  guest-room  for  a  few  days  more,  and  so  be  transferred  to  the 
novice-bouse,'  where  he  is  to  remain  under  the  charge  of  a  senior 
monk  for  two  months.  If  he  persevere  at  the  end  of  this  time,  the 
rule  is  to  be  read  over  to  him,  and  the  option  of  departing  or  remain- 
ing is  to  be  offered.  If  he  persevere,  he  is  returned  to  the  novice- 
house  for  six  months'  further  probation,  after  which  the  rule  is  again 
read  to  him  as  before,  and  yet  a  third  time  after  a  further  term  of 
four  months.  Not  till  he  has  surmounted  this  final  ordeal  can  he 
be  admitted  into  the  community,  and  before  that  is  done  he  must 
divest  himself  of  his  property,  either  giving  it  to  the  poor,  or  mak- 
ing a  deed  of  gift  to  the  monastery.  Then  he  is  allowed  to  sign  the 
act  of  profession,  including  the  vow  of  stability,  which  he  is  to  lay 
with  his  own  hand  on  the  altar.  Chapter  lii.  provides  for  the 
<ledication  of  young  children,  noble  or  poor,  by  their  parents  to  the 
monastic  life,  and  requires  a  promise  from  the  latter  never  to  endow 
the  oblate  with  any  property,  directly  or  in  trust,  though  they 
-may  give  to  the  monastery  if  they  please  and  reserve  the  life-income 
to  themselves.  Chapter  Ix.  regulates  the  position  of  pnests  who 
desire  to  live  in  the  monastery.  They  are  to  enjoy  no  relaxations 
or  priority  in  virtue  of  their  ecclesiastical  rank,  though  the  abbot 
may  assign  clerical  functions  to  them  ;  and  a  somewhat  like  rule  is 
laid  down  for  clerks  in  minor  orders.  Chapter  Ixi.  provides- for  the 
reception  of  sti-ange  monks  as  guests,  and  for  their  admis.sion  if  desir- 
ing t«  join  the  community.  The  abbot  is  enjoined  to  listen  to  any 
criticisms  such  a  guest  may  offer,  and  is  empowered  to  give  him,  if 
accepted  as  a  new  member,  higher  standing  than  that  of  his  entrance, 
but  is  forbidden  so  to  admit  a  monk  of  any  known  monastery  with- 
out the  consent  or  letters  commendatory  of  its  abbot.  Chapter  Ixii. 
rales  that  the  abbot  may  choose  a  monk  for  ordination  as  priest  or 
deacon  ;  but  the  ordineo  is  to  rank  in  the  house  from  the  date  of  his 
admission,  except  when  officiating,  or  if  the  community  and  the 
abbot  single  him  out  for  promotion  by  merit.  If  he  misbehave,  he 
is  to  be  reported  to  the  bishop,  and  if  continuing  to  misconduct 
himself,  sliall  be  exiielled, — only,  however,  in  case  of  obstinate  dis- 
obedience to  the  rule.  Cliapter  Ixiii.  lays  clown  rules  for  the  gradation 
of  rank  in  the  community,  an<l  warns  the  abbot  against  arbitrary 
government.  Cliapter  Ixiv.  allows  the  abbot  to  be  chosen  either  by 
the  common  consent  of  the  whole  community,  or  by  a  select  electoral 
committee  ;  and  tlie  lowest  in  standing  may  be  chosen,  if  fit.  In 
tlie  event  of  a  bad  choice,  the  bisliop  of  the  iHocese,  the  neighbour- 
ing abbots,  or  even  tlie  neighbouring  laity,  if  having  reason  to  think 
the  electioiv  made  .for  the  purpose  of  keeping  up  abuses,  may  annul 
it  and  appoint  another  superior.  Chapter  Ixv.  sneaks  of  the  niis- 
i-hief  occasioned  in  many  monasteries  by  the  rivalry  of  the  provost 
or  prior  with  the  abbot,  and  advises  that  no  such  oflficer  be  apjiointed  ; 
yet,  if  the  circumstances  of  the  place  need  one,  the  abbot  may  name 
a  brother  to  the  post,  but  he  is  to  be  as  entirely  subject  to  the  abbot 
as  any  other  monk,  and  may  be  admonished,  deposed,  or  exitelled 
for  misconduct.  Chapter  Ixvi.  directs  the  apiiointment  of  a  porter 
to  answer  at  the  gate,  and  further  recommends  that  every  iiouse 
shall  have  its  own  well,  mill,  garden,  bakery,  and  handicraftsmen, 
to  avoid  the  need  of  intercourse  with  the  outer  world.  Chapter  Ixvii. 
directs  that  llo  muik  shall  quit  the  cloister  without  leave  of  the 
abbot,  and  that,  on  the  return  of  any  from  a  jouniey,  tliey  are  to  beg 
the  prayers  of  tlie  community  for  any  faults  they  have  committed 
diirtlig  their  absence,  and  arc  forbidden  to  speak  of  what  tiiey  have 
li.ard  or  seen  outside.  Chapter  Ixviii.  bids  a  monk  who  has  received 
a  hard  or  imiwasible  command  to  undertake  it  patiently  and  obedi- 
ently. ■  if  he  find  it  beyond  his  jiowcrs,  lie  may  mention  the  cause 
quietly  to  his  superior  ;  and,  if  the  command  is  srifl  persisted  in,  he 
iiiu.-it  obey  as  bc-^t  he  can.  Chapter  Ixix.  forbids  monks  to  upliold 
or  defend  one  another  in  the  monastery,  even  their  nearest  of  kin. 
Chaptei  Ixx.  forbids  striking  or  excommunicating  another,  witliout 
.■•.he  abbot's  authority,  and  j>rorides  that  children,  until  fifteen,  shall 


be  subject  to  discipline  &om  all  the  monks  ;  but  any  who  shall 
chastise  those  above  fifteen  without  the  abbot's  leave,  oi  be  unduly 
severe  towards  the  younger,  shall  be  himself  puuiahable  by  rule. 
Chapter  IxxL  lays  down  that  the  principle  of  obedience  is  to  prevail 
throughout  the  community,  not  only  towards  the  abbot,  or  his 
officers,  but  from  the  juniors  towards  their  seniors.  Chapter  Ixxii 
is  a  brief  exhortation  to  zeal ;  and  chapter  Ixxiii.  a  note  to  the  effect 
that  the  Benedictine  rule  is  not  offered  as  an  ideal  of  perfection,  oi 
even  as  equal  to  the  teachings  of  Cassian  and  Basil,  but  for  mere  be* 
ginners  in  the  spiritual  life,  who  may  thence  proceed  further. 

It  has  been  necessary  to  make  this  detailed  analysis  of 
the  rule,  because  no  mere  summary  of  its  general  scope 
conveys  an  adequate  notion  of  it ;  and  it  plays  so  import- 
ant a  part  in  the  history  of  European  civilization  that  it 
is  expedient  to  obtain  a  clear  idea  of  its  details  as  well  as 
of  its  main  outlines.  The  first  pecviliarity  in  it  meriting 
attention  is  the  absence  of  any  severe  austerities.  Plain 
and  bare  as  the  food  and  lodging  appear  if  tested  bji 
modern  notions,  yet  it  is  to  be  remembered  that  what  ia 
called  "  comfort "  is  a  wholly  recent  idea,  and  even  stUI 
scarcely  familiar,  it  may  almost  be  said,  out  of  Great 
Britain  and  its  colonies.  The  scale  of -living  appointed  by 
the  rule  secures  a  greater  abundance  of  the  necessaries  of 
life,  not  only  than  was  at  all  common  amongst  the  Italian 
poor  of  the  6th  century,  but  than  is  to  be  found  amongst 
the  humbler  peasantry  of  any  European  country  at  the 
present  day  ;  while  even  the  excluded  superfluities  entered 
but  little  into  the  habits  of  any  save  the  very  wealthy. 
Next,  high  thinking — the  highest  thought  of  the  time- 
was  united  with  this  plain  living,  as  the  considerable  stress 
laid  upon  reading  attests.  To  this  part  of  the  code  is  due 
the  great  service  performed  by  the  Benedictines,  both  in 
the  erection  of  schools,  and  in  the  preservation  of  almost 
all  the  remains  of  ancient  Latin  literature  which  have 
come  down  to  us.  It  made  it  not  only  possible  but  easy 
for  them  to  become  a  learned  order,  and  it  is  a  verf: 
imperfect  estimate  of  the  stride  fqrward  in  this  provision 
which  Milman  makes,  when  he  views  the  injunctions  as  to 
reading  in  the  mere  light  of  expedients  to  fill  up  time 
somehow.  If  it  were  so,  the  hours  for  reading,  would 
have  been  fewer,  shorter,  and  more  occasional,  merely 
rounding  off  the  intervals  between  times  of  labour;  but  they 
are  just  as  prominent  and  nearly  as  long  as  these.  It  ia 
true  that  Benedict,  whose  own  education  had  been  abruptly- 
broken  off  by  his  early  retreat  from  Home,  did  not  speci- 
fically enjoin  the  pursuit  of  learning  on  his  monks;  but 
they  borrowed  the  idea  at  once  from  his  contemporary, 
the  celebrated  Cassiodoi-us,  the  real  founder  of  monastic' 
learning,  of  which  his  monastery  of  Viviers  in  Bruttiuia 
is  the  first  known  school.  But  the  most  valuable  feature 
of  the  rule  is  the  position  of  dignity  which  it  assigns  t# 
work.  It  is  scarcely  possible  to  realize  at  the  present  daj^ 
the  dishonour  into  which  toil  of  all  kinds  had  sunk  in  the 
days  of  Benedict.  Kot  only  had  the  institution  of  slavery 
degraded  many  kinds  of  occupation,  but  the  gradual 
disajipearance  from  Italy  of  the  yeoman  class,  ruined  and 
exiled  by  the  concentration  of  great  estates  (latifundia), 
or  slain  in  the  ceaseless  battles  of  competitors  for  empire 
or  6f  barbarian  invaders,  left  few  save  serfs  and  bondsmen 
fo  tijl  the  soil,  while  the  military  habits  of  the  invading 
tribes  led  them  to  contemn  any  life  except  that  of  a 
warrior.  It  is  the  special  glory  of  Benedict  that  hf 
taught  the  men  of  his  day  that  work,  sanctified  by  prayer, 
is  the  best  thing  which  man  can  do,  and  the  lesson^hae 
never  been  wholly  lost  sight  of  since.  .     .      '       « 

The  new  institute  spread  with  even  more  astonishing  Spread 
rapidity  than  the  earlier  monachism  which  it  practically  J"^__'°^'^, 
supplanted  in  the  West,  and  its  history  thenceforward  is,  ,i,jBens. 
with  one  important  exception,  that  of,  Western  conventual  jictiue 
life  for  some  centuries.     Moreover,  besides  marking  the  order? 
close  of  the  first  or  tentative  ^ra  of  monachism,  when  all 
kinds  of  crude  essays  and  experiments  were  being  made; 


706 


M  O  N  A  C  H  1  S  M 


and  being  itself  the  beginning  of  a  new  and  settled  order, 
it  has  the  distinction  of  giving  greater  dignity  and  weight 
to  the  female  side  of  monachism  than  had  been  the  rule 
previously.  Numerous  and  crowded  as  convents  for 
women  were  in  the  early  church,  there  is  little  evidence 
of  their  exercising  any  powerful  influence  as  a  factor  in 
the  practical  religious  life  "of  the  time,  and  though  a  few 
individual  women  of  eminence,  a  Euphrosyne  or  a  Macrina, 
illoitrate  the  annals  of  the  common  life  in  the  East,  yet 
as  a  clafs  the  BasUian  nuns  do  not  yAay  at  all  so  important 
a  part  in  eccleFi.iRticai  history  as  the  spiritual  descendants 
■:!:'  ScholaBtica,  sic-ter  of  Benedict;  for  the  same  flexibility 
and  comparative  gentlcncsa  of  his  rule  whicli  made  it 
healthier  for  men  than  its  precursors  were  &till  more 
erfective  when  dealing  with  the  more  sensitive  organization 
of  women.  Accordingly,  the  Benedictine  nuns  offer  a 
far  greater  variety  of  type  than  their  Eastern  sisters,  and 
exerted  a  much  more  visible  influence  upon  society,  even 
before  those  newer  forms  of  the  organization  of  women's 
work  in  the  church  were  devised  which  have  given  it 
much  additional  importance.  Further,  whereas  the  most 
serious  and  well-founded  objection  alleged  against  mona- 
chism is  that  by  parting  large  companies  of  men  and 
women  irrevocably  from  each  other,  and  treating  this 
severance  as  an  indispensable  condition  of  the  highest  kind 
of  life,  it  has  tended  to  throw  discredit  on  marriage  and 
the  family,  and  so  to  weaken  society,  which  is  based  on 
family  life  alone,  a  strong  counter-plea  can  be  put  in  for 
the  Benedictines.  Not  merely  are  they  free,  as  already 
remarked,  from  the  anti-social  tendencies  of  Oriental 
monachism,  which  actually  did  disintegrate  society  in 
Egj-pt,  but  their  institute  was  the  one  corrective  in  the 
early  Middle  Ages  of  those  habits  and  ideas  which  tended 
to  degrade  the  position  of  women.  The  cloi-ster  was  not 
alone  the  single  secure  shelter  for  women  who  had  no 
strong  arm  to  rely  on  ;  but  it  provided  the  only  alternative 
profession  to  marriage,  and  that  one  recognized  by  pubUc 
opinion  as  of  even  higher  distinction,  and  opening  to 
women  positions  of  substantial  rank  and  authority,  less 
precarious  than  the  possession  of  temporal  estates,  which 
might  only  serve  to  attract  cupidity,  and  so  invite  attack. 
The  abbess  of  a  great  Benedictine  house  was  more  than 
the  equal  of  the  wife  of  any  save  a  very  great  noble  ;  and, 
as  single  women  were  thus  not  obliged  to  look  to  wedlock 
as  the  only  path  to  safety  and  consequence,  they  were 
enabled  to  mate  on  more  equal  terms,  and  were  less  likely 
to  be  viewed  as  the  mere  toys  or  servants  of  the  stronger 
sex. 

But  the  special  eminence  of  the  Benedictines,  in  which 
they  were  without  even  tlie  semblance  of  rivalry  till  the 
Jesuits  arose,  is  that  they  were  a  missionary,  civilizing,  and 
educational  body.  It  is  true  that  the  first  successful  efibrts 
to  convert  the  barbarian  conquerors  of  the  empire  somewhat 
jirecede  their  entrance  on  that  field  of  labour,  and  Ulfila 
amongst  the  Moeso-Goths,  Valentinus  in  Bavaria,  and  Sever- 
inus  in  Austria  had  achieved  much  even  before  Benedict 
was  born ;  but  their  work  needed  to  be  taken  u])  on  a  larger 
.'-oale,  and  by  a  permanent  organization  not  liable  to  bo 
imperilled  by  the  death  of  any  one  missionary  or  group  of 
missionaries.  And  the  task  of  laying  the  very  foundations 
of  civilized  society,  apart  from  the  question  of  religious 
conversion,  was  as  yet  quite  unessayed.  It  was  as  teachers 
of  what  for  those  times  was  scientific  agriculture,  as 
drainers  of  fens  and  morasses,  as  clearors  of  forests,  as 
makers  of  roads,  as  tillers  of  the  reclaimed  soil,  as  archi- 
tects of  durable  and  even  stately  buildings,  as  exhibiting 
a  visible  type  of  orderly  government,  as  establishing  the 
superiority  of  peace  over  war  as  the  normal  condition  of 
life,  as  students  in  the  library  which  thcirule  set  up  in 
tvery_  monastery,    as    the   masters   in  schools   open    not 


merely  to  their  own  postulants  but  to  the  children  6\ 
secular  families  al.so,  that  they  won  their  high  place  in 
history  as  benefactors  of  mankind.  Uo  d()Ubt  there  was 
another  side  to  this  picture,  even,  befcre  the  order  began 
to  deteriorate  collectively ;  but  the  good  ;iotual)y  eficcted 
far  exceeded  the  evils  which  may  have  accor/.panied 
it.  The  Benedictine  institute  was  carried  to  Sicily  by 
Placidus  in  53-1 ;  to  France  by  Maurus,  Simplicius, 
and  their  companions  in  543 ;  to  Spain  at  a  somewhat 
later  and  uncertain  date ;  but  did  not  touch  any  of  the 
Teutonic  countries  till  the  very  end  of  the  century.  That  Tie  Cel- 
work  was  chiefly  accomplished  by  another  agency,  that  of  t'l^^^e- 
the  Celtic  monks,  themselves  disciples  of  a  Christianity "*"*• 
presumably  carried  to  Ireland  from  Gaul,  and  following 
a  rule  seemingly  adapted  from  that  of  Pachomius.  The 
early  history  and  constitution  of  Irish  and  Scottish 
monachism  are  too  obscure  to  be  set  down  with  any  con- 
fidence, but  it  is  at  least  clear  that  it  was  mainly  tribal 
in  oiganization,  and  even  less  subject  to  episcopal  a;athority 
than  the  Eastern  and  Italian  forms.  The  same  holds  good 
of  the  V\'elsh  communities  which  survived  the  Saxon 
invasions  of  Britain.  Legend  is  abundant,  trustworthy- 
record  is  scanty,  and  only  a  few  facts  can  be  rescued  from 
obli\'ion.  Amongst  them  may  be  included  the  introduc- 
tion into  Scotland  of  a  species  of  monachism  resembling, 
that  of  Augustine,  by  Ninian,  first  missionary  of  the 
southern  Picts,  who  borrowed  his  institute  from  Martin 
of  Tours,  and  set  up  a  cathedral,  a  house  of  canons,  and 
a  school  of  learning  at  Vt'hithorn  (Candida  Casa)  in 
G".Iloway  before  the  close  of  the  ■1th  century,  himself 
dying,  it  is  thought,  about  432  (.^Ired,  Vit.  Kin.).  The 
foundation  of  the  second  model  of  Welsh  monachism 
(the  first  has  gone  below  the  horizon  of  history)  Ls 
ascribed  to  the  bishops  Germanus  of  Auxerre  and  Lupus 
of  Troyes,  who  visited  Britain  in  429  to  combat  the 
prevalent  Pelagianism,  itself  a  form  of  opinion  due  to  a 
British  monk.  They  are  alleged  to  have  been,  directly  or 
through  their  disciples,  founders  of  great  monasteries  and 
schools  at  Hentland  on  the  Wye,  at  Llantwit,  Llancarvan, 
Docwiuni,  Bangor,  Whitland,  &c.  ;  wliile  among  the  more 
famous  names  connected  with  these  and  similar  houses 
may  be  mentioned  Asaph,  David,  Illtut,  Dubric,  Cadoc, 
Gildas  the  Wise,  and  Kentigern,  the  last-named  being  a 
zealous  missionary.  But  Ireland  was  the  true  stronghold 
of  Celtic  monachism,  and  before  the  close  of  the  5th 
century  was  already  thickly  planted  with  religious  houses. 
Armagh,  Clonard,  Aran,  Lismore,  Cluain-ednech,  Clonfert, 
and,  above  all,  Benchor  or  Bangor,  the  famous  abbey  of 
Comgall,  on  the  coast  of  Down,  near  the  entrance  of 
Belfast  Lough,  are  some  of  the  more  conspicuous  founda- 
tions ;  and  there  are  numberless  stories  recorded  of  the 
learning,  the  austerities,  and  the  miracles  of  their  inmates. 
The  chief  interest  they  have  for  the  student  of  ecclesiastical 
history  lies  rather,  however,  in  the  colonies  they  sent  forth 
than  in  their  home  operations,  and  it  is  to  the  great 
foundation  of  Columba  (521-597)  at  lona,  the  hive  of 
missions  and  home  of  Western  learning,  more  than 
to  any  Irish  monastery,  except  Bangor,  that  the  Celtic 
raiil  on  heathenism  is  mainly  due.  The  rule  of  Columba ' 
resembles  the  Benedictine  in  prescribing  three  kinds  of 
employment — praj'er,  work,  and  reading  ;  while  under  the 
last-named  head  not  only  Scripture  but  all  attainable 
secular  learning  was  included,  and  it  is  also  certain  that  the 
work  of  cojiying  JISS.  in  a  careful  and  beautiful  fashion, 
which  became  so  important  a  part  of  monastic  occupation, 
reached  maturity  first  at  lona.  It  remains  only  to  say  in 
this  connexion  that  the  discipline  of  lena,  apparently 
borrowed   from   Irish  use,   made  the  abbot  sujucme,   not 

~'  PubU.shea  l)y  Dean  Ufcves  iu  Colton's  Viaitation  oFvJ^ry,  p.  109, 
and  in  &not)ier  form  by  UaJiUu  and  Stubbs,  Councils,  tec,  ii.  p.  119. 


M  O  i\  A  C  H  I  S  M 


r07 


merely  over  Us  monks,  as  in  other  rules,  but  over  bishops 
also,  ■whose  office  v.as  Eimply  that  of  ordaining  such  as 
were  to  be  promoted  to  holy  orders ; '  they  had  no 
territorial  jurisdiction  as  rulers,  because  the  monastery, 
not  the  diocese,  was  the  primary  local  ujiit  in  Celtic  Chris- 
tianity, and  thus  a  great  founder  or  abbot  was  of  more 
account  and  power  than  a  bishop.  Another  famous  pupil 
of  Irish  monachism,  Columbanus,  trained  at  Benchor  along 
with  his  companion  Gallus,  exercised  a  powerful  influence 
on  the  religious  life  of  his  time  (543-615),  not  only 
as  the  founder  of  important  monasteries  at  Luxeuil, 
Fontenay,  and  Bobbio,  and  as  scholar  and  missionarj',  but 
also  as  the  author  of  a  rule,  more  severe  both  in  its  pro- 
visions and  in  its  penalties  than  the  Benedictine,  with 
which  it  disputed  for  a  considerable  time  the  first  place, 
and  which  it  might  very  probably  have  displaced,  had  not 
the  Benedictine  institute,  as  of  Italian  origin,  found  that 
favour  at  Rome  which  a  Celtic  code,  bearing  more  than 
one  trace  of  divergence  from  Latin  usages,  could  scarcely 
expect.  With  the  mention  of  another  prominent  name  in 
ihe  list  of  distinguished  Celtic  reformers  and  mission- 
aries, that  of  Fursey,  abbot  of  Lagny  neai-  Paris  (c.  650), 
we  close  this  sketch  of  the  Celtic  movement  in  the  6  th 
and  7th  centuries,  merely  adding  that  it^  extent  and 
influence  may  be  partly  estimated  from  the  number  of 
monasteries  founded  in  England  and  various  parts  of  the 
Continent  by  Irish  monks,  and  the  list  of  Celtic  saints 
recoverable  from  the  dififerent  martyrologies  and  similar 
records.  The  former  amount  to  more  than  one  hundred ; 
the  latter  to  nearly  three  hundred. 

Kcturning  to  the  Benedictines,  the  most  important  event 
in  their  history  after  the  consolidation  of  their  institute 
was  the  favour  they  received  from  Gregory  the  Great, 
himself  once  a  monk,  who  set  himself  to  reform  monastic 
discipline,  then  at  a  very  low  ebb  save  where  the  new 
foundation  was  at  work.  He  enacted  several  regulations 
for  the  better  government  of  monasteries,  such  as  pro- 
hibiting the  admission  of  any  persons  under  eighteen, 
exacting  two  years'  novitiate,  enforcing  inclosure,  visiting 
relinquishment  of  monachism  with  imprisonment  for  life, 
and  finally,  in  the  Lateran  synod  of  601,  exempting 
monasteries  in  all  cases  from  the  jurisdiction  of  bishops  (a 
measure  due,  it  appears,  to  episcopal  misconduct  and 
oppression  rather  than  to  monastic  ambition),  thereby 
abolishing  the  measme  of  control  which  the  eighth  canon 
of  Chalccdon  and  the  legislation  of  Justinian  I.  in  535 
had  loft  in  the  hands  of  the  diocesan,  and  leaving  only 
the  still  surviving  check,  that  the  bishop's  consent  was 
required  for  the  erection  of  any  new  monastery.  The 
mission  of  tke  monk  Augustine  to  England  in  596  was, 
however,  destined  to  produce  more  immediate  and  for- 
tunate results  than  this  piece  of  legislation.  It  brought 
Latin  monachism  into  a  part  of  Britain  whence  Welsh 
monachism  had  been  long  extirpated,  and  though  little 
success  attended  the  original  foundation  at  Canterbury, 
yet  two  other  houses  were  destined  to  be  the  cradles  of 
great  things.  Jarrow-on-Tyne,  founded  by  Benedict  Biscop, 
trained  the  illustrious  Bede,  to  w^hom  is  due  the  monastic 
school  of  York,  which  in  its  turn  sent  out  Alcuin  to  recon- 
stitute European  learning  under  the  fostering  hand  of 
Charlemagne ;  Nutcell  in  Hampshire  reared  Boniface  to  be 
the  apostle  of  Germany,  and  founder  of  one  of  the  most 
celebrated  and  powerful  monasteries  of  the  Middle  Ages, 
that  of  Fulda.     Nevertheless,   decline  set  in  very  soon. 


>  So  Bade  tells  us:  "Habere  autem  solet  ipsa  insula  rectorem 
seiaper  abbalem  presbyterura,  cujus  juri  et  omnis  proviucifl  et  ipsi 
tti.'vjn  episcopi,  online  inusitato,  debeiint  esse  subject],  juzta  exemplura 
prinii  doctoris  illius,  qui  non  episcopus  sed  presbyter  extitit  et  mona- 
chus"  {Hist.  F.cd.,  iii.  4);  tliougb,  after  all,  the  principle  is  precisely 
that  of  tlie  Beuedictiue  rule  as  applied  to  priests. 


and  the  Sth  centxiry  was  a  time  of  deterioration  amongst 
both  the  seculars  and  the  regulars.  To  amend  the  forn^er,  Monastia 
Chrodegang,  bishop  of  Metz,  instituted  in  760  an  order  r«fonn- 
of  Canons  Regular,  living  by  a  rule  carefully  based  on  and  "^^ 
adapted  from  the  Benedictine,  >vith  the  bishop  as  abbot,  °  ^'^' 
the  archdeacon  as  prior,  and  with  a  general  likeness  in  all 
the  details  of  community  life,  except  that  there  was  no 
obligation  to  poverty,  and  the  canons  were  allowed  to 
enjoy  any  private  property  and  such  fees  as  they  might 
receive  for  the  performance  of  religious  rites.  Tliis  rule 
became  extremely  popular,  was  sanctioned  by  the  coun- 
cil of  Aix-la-Chapelle  in  816,  and  was  adopted  in  most 
cathedrals  of  France,  Germany,  and  Italy  v.-ithin  fifty 
years  after,  besides  making  some  way  in  England  aiso. 
It  prevailed  till  the  institute  of  the  Austin  Canons  was 
substituted  for  it.  And,  as  regards  the  laxity  amongst 
regulars  at  this  time,  there  is  extant  a  very  interesting 
letter  from  Bede  addressed  to  Eegberht,  archbishop  of 
York,  calling  his  attention  to  the  excessive  number  of 
monasteries  in  northern  England  which  were  conducted 
without  a  rule,  and  were  often  merely  fictitiotis  institutions, 
founded  by  laymen  with  the  object  of  obtaining  charters 
of  privilege  which  would  exempt  them  from  civil  and 
military  burdens, — such  laymen  then  assuming,  without 
warrant,  the  title  and  powers  of  abbots,  and  filling  their 
houses  either  with  monks  expelled  from  their  own  societies, 
or  with  lay  retainers  induced  to  receive  the  tonsure  and 
promise  obedience.  Bede  calls  on  the  archbishop  to  con- 
vene a  sjTiod  and  institute  a  visitation  for  the  correction 
of  these  abuses.  The  cause  of  the  decline  of  the  monasteries 
is  to  be  sought  in  their  popularity,  which  brought  them 
great  estates  and  other  kinds  of  wealth,  leading  to  the 
relaxation  of  the  vow  of  poverty,  which  was  interpreted 
as  merely  forbidding  individual  property ;  in  the  growth 
of  pluralities  ;  and  in  yet  another  cause  which  at  first  does 
not  seem  to  lead  in  the  same  direction- — the  growing 
custom  of  ordaining  monks,  hitherto  laymen,  to  fit  them 
better  for  missionary  work.  But  this  led,  not  only  to 
much  more  intercourse  with  the  society  of  a  lax  and 
turbulent  age  than  suited  with  claustral  niles,  but  to 
ambition,  as  it  became  customary  to  fill  several  sees  with 
monks  from  certain  abbeys.  The  declension,  notably  in 
the  habits  of  the  superiors  of  wealthy  houses,  had  become 
very  marked,  when  a  reformer  arose  in  the  person  of  a 
second  Benedict,  of  Aniane  in  the  modern  department  of 
the  Herault  (750-821),  who,  in  gratitude  for  an  escape 
from  drowning  in  the  Ticino  in  774,  adopted  the  mon- 
astic life,  and  changed  his  name  Witiza  to  that  of  the 
great  Nursian  monk.  But  he  accoimted  the  Benedictine 
rule  too  easy,  and  adopted  instead  the  severest  practices; 
of  Eastern  monachism.  He  quitted  the  house  of  Seine, 
where  he  had  be'en  professed,  and  betook  himself  with  a 
couple  of  companions  to  Aniane,  where  by  782  he  had 
built  a  monastery  for  a  thousand  monks,  with  depend- 
ent cells,  and  collected  a  considerable  library,  paying 
special  attention  to  the  acquisition  of  the  rules  of  the 
different  monastic  bodies  both  of  East  and  West.  He  was 
transferred  by  his  warm  patron,  the  emperor  Louis  the 
Kdus,  to  an  abbey  built  for  him  near  Aix-fa-Chapelle, 
whence  he  acted  as  in  some  sense  a  superior-general  and 
inspector  of  all  the  Benedictine  houses,  and  drew  up  a 
harmony  of  all  the  rules  he  had  collected  to  aid  him  in 
the  task  of  reform.  What  he  actually  effected  was  the 
practical  abolition  of  most  of  the  competing  codes,  so  as 
to  leave  the  Benedictine  in  nearly  sole  possession,  and  to 
procure  the  enactment  of  a  large  body  of  tanons  in  the 
council  of  Aix-la-Chapelle  before  mentioned,  which  laid 
down  detailed  provisions  for  the  government  of  monasteries, 
whose  very  minuteness  made  them  vexatious  and  •ulti- 
mately intolerable,  so  that  the  reform  lasted  scarcely  tw«i 


70S 


M  O  N  A  C  H  1  S  M 


generations  trom  its  inception.  'Parallel  mth  the  time  of  de- 
clension and  partial  reform  just  described  was  the  rise  and 
decay  of  the  noble  and  far-sighted  school-system  projected 
by  Charlemagne,  and  entrusted  to  the  superintendence 
of  Alcuin.  Its  relation  to  monachism  as  distinguished 
from  the  history  of  education,  is  that  one  of  its  main 
features  was  the  capitulary  of  789,  which  directed  that, 
besides  the  primary  school  attached  to  each  monastery, 
all  the  more  important  houses  were  to  found  and  open 
secondary  ones  also,  with  a  higher  range  of  subjects,  even 
if  such  schools  were  interior  or  claustral,  and  only  for 
the  junior  monks  and  novices,  not  exterior  and  free  to  the 
general  public.  Several  of  these  schools  rose  to  consider- 
able efficiency  and  repute,  notably  those  of  Fulda,  St  Gall, 
Tours,  and  Eheims,  discharging  to  some  extent  the 
functions  of  universities.  But  the  weakness  of  the  later 
Carolings  involved  this  plan  in  the  troubles  which  ended 
in  the  break-up  of  the  empire  of  the  Franks,  and  the  10th 
century  saw  the  end  of  it.  In  England  monachism  shared 
the  common  destiny  of  decay.  It  had  been  marked  during 
the  period  known  as  the  Heptarchy  by  a  degree  of  royal 
favour  unparalleled  elsewhere ;  for  it  may  almost  be  said 
that  the  number  of  kings,  queens,  and  persons  of  royal 
race  who  here  betook  themselves  voluntarily  to  the  cloister 
— and  not  under  political  compulsion,  as  often  in  con- 
temporary France — exceeds  the  aggregate  of  those  in  all 
other  countries.  Yet  it  is  likely  that  the  fashion  set  in 
this  wise  helped  to  hasten  decay,  by  inducing  many  persons 
to  adopt  the  monastic  Ufe  vdth  little  taste  for  its  restric- 
tions ;  and  it  is  certain  that  secularity  (chiefly  manifesting 
itself  in  costly  dress),  riotousness,  and  drinking  had  become 
frequent  amongst  the  English  monks  of  the  8th  and  the 
early  part  of  the  9th  century.  The  decay  was  further 
precipitated  by  the  spread  of  the  institute  of  Chrodegang, 
which  thinned  the  supply  of  recruits  to  monachism  proper, 
as  the  easier  life  of  canons  regular  w.as  preferred.  The 
same  cause  affected  the  convents  of  nuns,  for  an  order  of 
canonesses  was  established  about  this  time  on  similar  line^. 
The  one  bright  spot  in  the  history  of  9th  century  mona- 
chism is  the  conversion  of  Sweden  by  Anskar,  a  monk 
trained  in  the  famous  house  of  Old  Corbie  in  Picardy, 
which,  albeit  Benedictine,  had  been  mainly  planted  by  a 
colony  from  the  stricter  Columbanian  house  of  Luxeuil, 
and  had  thus  kept  the  traditions  of  a  purer  time  almost 
unimpaired. 

The  10th  century ^-emphaticaNy  the  "Dark  Age"  or 
"  Age  of  Lead  " — was  the  tims  when  monachism,  both  in 
East  and  West,  touched  its  lowest  point.  Three  causes 
contributed  to  this  in  the  West : — first  may  be  placed  the 
raids  of  the  Northmen  ;  next,  the  gro^vth  of  the  feuda' 
system,  converting  abbots  into  secular  lords  in  virtue  of 
the  lands  held  by  their  monasteries  being  chargeable  with 
feudal  obligations;  and  lastly,  the  seizure  and  impropria- 
tion of  monastic  revenues  by  kings,  princes,  and  bishops. 
The  last  of  these  causes  was  at  work  in  the  East  also, 
further  complicated,  as  we  learn  from  the  decrees  of  a 
council  held  at  Constantinople  in  861,  by  the  founda- 
tion of  monasteries  intended  from  the  first  merely  as 
sources  of  pecuniary  advantage  to  the  founders;  although 
the  success  of  Greek  monks  in  the  conversion  of  Bul- 
garia, Moravia,  and,  somewhat  later,  southern  Russia, 
showed  that  the  cloister  had  not  become  quite  effete 
even  under  the  conditions  of  the  Byzantine  emcire  in 
that  era. 

Wliat  the  state  of  things  was  in  the  West,  even  at  the 
outset  of  the  10th  century,  may  be  learned  from  the 
language  of  the  council  of  Trosley,  near  Soissons,  in 
909.  It  speaks  of  the  ruin  of  many  abbeys  by  the 
heathen,  and  of  the  disorderly  condition  of  many  which 
survived.     Monks  abandon  their  profession  ;  married  lay 


aoDots,  witii  guaras  ^nd  hunting  retinue,  occupy  -  tJifi 
cloisters  of  monks,  canons,  and  nuns ;  and  the  rules  are 
universally  disregarded.  But,  as  constantly  before,'  sp 
then,  reformers  were  at  hand.  Berno  first  abbot  of  Cluny 
in  France,  Dunstan  in  England,  and,  somewhat  laterj 
Anno  archbishop  of  Cologne  in  Germany,  undertookj 
and  to  a  considerable  extent  effected,  the  work  of  reform/ 
Only  the  first  of  these,  however,  calls  for  special  notice 
here ;  and  it  will  suffice  to  say  that  Berno,  after  having 
been  abbot  of  Beaume,  was  set  by  William  the  Pioufij 
duke  of  Aquitaine,  over  his  new  foundation  of  Cluny  in 
910,  where  he  speedily  initiated  a  reform  of  the  Bene' 
dictine  rule,  whose  very  name,  and  even  the  memorj 
of  the  reforms  of  Benedict  of  Aniane,  had  been  forgotten 
in  nearly  all  the  so-called  religious  houses  of  the  time. 
This  new  rule  is  the  first  example  of  the  establishment  of 
an  order  within  an  already  existing  order,  of  which  it  still 
formed  part,  many  subsequent  instances  of  which  occur 
later.  It  was  stricter  than  the  original  code  in  several 
particulArs,  notably  as  regards  fasting  and  silence ;  and  it 
laid  especial  stress  on  liturgical  splendour.  Cluny  became 
the  head  of  a  large  number  of  dependent  houses,  and, 
under  the  government  of  Berno's  successors,  Odo,  Aj-mard, 
Majolus  (who  refused  the  papacy),  Odilo,  and  Hugh  I., 
rose  to  great  eminence,  but  was  nearly  brought  to  ruii 
by  Pontius,  abbot  in  1109,  who  was  soon  deposed,  and 
succeeded  by  Hugh  II.,  and  then  by  Peter  the  Venerable, 
who  completed  the  work  of  di-afting  the  statutes  of  thp 
new  order,  begun  long  before,  but  not  finished,  by  his  pre 
decessors.  In  his  time  (1093-1156)  the  Cluniacs  spread 
over  not  only  the  whole  of  France,  but  had  houses  ir 
Italy,  Spain,  England,  Palestine,  and  in  Constantinople 
itself,  and  the  "Arch-Abbot,"  as  he  was  called,  had  more 
than  300  churches,  colleges,  and  monasteries  under  his, 
authority.  It  is  enough  to  say,  with  regard  to  Dunstan^ 
reforms  in  England,  that  they  were  directed  to  two  objects' 
the  substitution  of  monks  for  secular  canons,  and  th( 
introduction  of  the  Benedictine  rule,  till  then  practicallj 
unknown  in  England,  into  the  monasteries, — for  the  mona' 
chism  introduced  by  Augustine  belonged  to  an  earlier 
type. 

The  1 1  th  century  is  noticeable  for  several  events  in  the  Ne\r 
liistory  of  monachism ;  first  of  which  stands  the  foundation  orders,, 
of  the  Order  of  Camaldoli  by  Eomuald,  early  in  the  11th  J^J^'^-'^'* 
century,  a  strict  community  of  hermits,  living  by  the 
system  of  an  Eastern  laura  of  detached  cells;  but  this 
society  has  never  been  of  much  importance.  The  Ordei 
of  'Vallombrosa,  founded  by  John  Gualbert  in  1039,  is 
more  remarkable,  as  being  the  first  to  introduce  the 
grade  of  "  lay-brothers,"  which  plays  so  large  a  part  ir 
later  monastic  annals, — the  object  being  at  once  to  open 
the  cloister  to  a  class  previously  barred  by  the  obligation 
to  recite  the  oflice  in  choir,  which  necessitated  a  certain 
degree  of  education,  and  to  lighten  the  strain  on  the 
choir-brethren  by  relegating  the  rough  work  of  the  monas' 
tery  to  an  inferior  grade  of  inmates,  thus  securing  more 
time  for  reading  and  meditation  for  the  cultured  monks) 
A  series  of  struggles  between  bishops  and  abbots  in  this 
century  in  respect  of  monastic  jurisdiction-^the  practice 
having  constantly  vacillated  in  desjiite  of  Gregory  ihl 
Great's  decision  400  years  earlier — issued  mainly,  thougl 
not  wholly,  in  favour  of  exemption,  and  the  reforms  pusheo 
everywhere  rehabilitated  monachism  in  pojiularity.  The 
great  stimulus  given  to  the  spirit  of  ecclesiastical  dia 
cipline  and  energy  by  the  Hildebrandine  movement  con 
tinned  not  only  during  the  reign  of  Gregory  VII.,  but  fo; 
a  considerable  time  after :  amongst  its  results  were  the 
Order  of  Grammont,  founded  in  1074,  but  not  transferred 
to  the  place  whence  it  is  named  till  1124;  the  far  mors 
celebrated  and  influential  Carthusians,  a  peculiarly  ascetic 


I 


!V1  O  N   A  C  H  I  S  M 


"09 


cctnmunity,  established  by  BVuno  at  ?ne  Chartreuse,  near 
Grenoble,  in  1084,  which  still  boasts  that  it  is  the  only 
order  which  has  never  been  reformed  on  the  ground  of 
deviation  from  its  original  institute ;  and  the  Order  of 
Fontevraud,  founded  for  both  monks  and  nuns  (more 
strictly,  canons  and  canonesses)  by  Robert  of  Arbrissel  in 
1100.  Kegarding  the  last  named  two  remarkable  facts 
may  be  cited :  that  the  founder  in  1115  entrusted  the 
superior-generalship  of  the  whole  institute  to  the  abbess 
of  the  nuns ;  and  that  he  provided  that  new  abbesses 
iShoXild  always  be  elected  from  secular  women,  as  having 
more  practical  knowledge  of  affairs  and  capacity  for  ad- 
ministration than  women  trained  in  a  cloister.  There  is 
yet  one  order  more  belonging  to  this  period  of  new 
!  foundations,  of  higher  note  than  most — that  of  the  Cister- 
cians, founded  by  Robert  of  Molesme  in  1098  at  Citeaux, 
near  Dijon.  This  society,  chiefly  famous  as  that  to  which 
Bernard  of  Clairvau-i:  belonged,  carried  its  asceticism  into 
a  region  whence  the  other  monastic  bodies  had  banished 
it,  that  of  Divine  service.  The  barest  simplicity  in  build- 
ings, chtirch  furniture,  and  worship  was  unjoined  by  the 
rule :  plain  linen  or  fustian  vestments,  iron  chandeliers, 
brass  or  iron  censers,  no  plate  save  a  chalice  and  a  tube 
(and  those  of  silver  rather  than  of  gold),  no  pictures,  stained 
glass,  or  images,  and  only  a  few  crosses  of  painted  wood, 
and  the  most  rigid  simplicity  in  chanting, — such  was  the 
ceremonial  code  with  which  they  challenged  the  costly  ritual 
of  Cluny.  A  more  durable  innovation  was  the  institution 
of  "  General  Chapters,"  to  which  every  abbot  of  a  Cistercian 
house  had  a  right  to  be  sximmoned  to  sh.are  in  the  delibera- 
tions held  at  the  chief  establishment,  and  which  he  was 
even  bound  to  attend,  that,  while  each  dependent  house 
thus  obtained  a  representation  in  the  parliament  of  the 
order,  it  could  be  called  on  to  render  to  the  central  authority 
an  account  of  its  om~;i  doings.  The  Austin  Canons,  already 
mentioned,  were  probably  founded  at  Avignon  about  1061, 
and  the  Order  of  PnSmontriS  by  Norbert  in  1120.  This 
society  was  simply  a  stricter  body  of  Austin  Canons,  stand- 
ing towards  them  much  as  Cluny  did  to  the  Benedictines. 
But  there  are  yet  two  other  institutes  of  this  active  period 
which  differ  from  all  previous  foundations.  So  far,  the  new 
orders  are  merely  modifications,  more  or  less  sweeping,  of 
the  original  Egyptian  system,  but  the  crusades  gave  birth  to 
two  entirely  unprecedented  forms  of  monachism : — the  Mili- 
tary Orders,  of  which  the  most  celebrated  are  the  Templars, 
the  Hospitallers,  and  the  Teutonic  Knights ;  and  convents 
of  women,  affiliated  to  these  orders,  who  were  appointed  to 
serve  ui  the  lazar-houses,  hospitab,  and  similar  institutions 
attached  to  them,  and  whose  rule,  for  the  first  time  in 
monastic  history,  was  drawn  up  on  a  distinctly  active  and 
not  a  contemplative  basis.  Work  of  the  sort  had  been  done 
long  before,  but  only  as  a  casual  accident,  not  as  the  primary 
object  of  a  community. 
Militjry  The  military  orders  arose  in  a  more  accidental  fashion 
wilen.  than  any  other  variety  of  monacliism,  being  duo  to  the 
desire  felt  to  lessen  the  perils  which  attended  pilgrimage 
to  Jerusalem,  then  almost  as  much  part  of  the  religious 
craving  of  Christendom  as  the  hajj  to  ilecca  is  with  devout 
Moslems.  'The  Templars  v.ere  at  first  designed  only  as  an 
armed  escort  to  protect  the  visitors  from  attack,  ar.d  the 
idea  of  permanent  guardianship  of  the  Holy  Places  did  not 
shape  itself  till  later;  while  the  Hospitallers  (afterwards 
famous  as  Knights  of  Rhodes  and  of  Malta,  as  the  main 
bulwark  of  Christendom  against  the  Turks,  and  as  main- 
,  taining  the  police  of  the  Mediterranean  against  all  pirates 
and  rovers),  borrowed  the  first  idea  of  their  institute  from 
the  knightly  order  of  St  Anthony  of  Vienne,  founded  in 
Dauphin^  aboutd095,  and  devoted  themselves  originally  to 
tending  sick  pilgrims  at  Jerusalem.  The  Teutonic  Knights 
date  from  the  third  crusade,  and  owe  their  foundation  to 


the  sufferings  of  the  duke  of  Swabia's  anuy  at  the  siege 
of  Acre,  as  it  would  seem  that  the  Hospitallers  were  either 
unable  or  unwilling  to  supply  the  needed  assistance.  These 
knights,  when  at  last  the  Eastern  crusades  were  abandoned, 
turned  their  arms  against  the  heathen  of  Prnssia,  which 
they  conquered,  as  also  Livonia,  Comiand,  and  Pomerania, 
besides  keeping  the  Slavonic  enemies  of  Germany  in  check 
by  frequent  raids  into  Lithuania  and  Poland,  holding  their 
gi'ound  as  a  sovereign  order  for  three  centuries,  till  tho 
Reformation  brought  about  their  fall.  The  common  char- 
acteristic of  all  these  orders  was  tho  union  of  the  seemingly 
incompatible  qualities  of  the  monk  and  the  soldier  in  tho 
same  persons,  of  the' convent  and  the  barrack  in  the  same 
house.  But  the  contrast  was  not  so  sharp  to  mediaeval 
eyes  as  it  would  be  to  modem  ones  ;  for  while  knighthood 
was  surrounded  with  religious  ceremonies  and  sanctions  on 
the  one  hand,  and  on  the  other  the  feudal  rank  of  bishops 
and  abbots  made  them  in  some  sense  military  chiefs,  occa- 
sionally even  taking  the  field  in  person,  there  was  no  great 
difficulty  in  accepting  the  permanent  combination  of  what 
was  often  found  casually  united.  The  military  orders  passed 
away  when  their  work  was  ended :  the  Templars,  as  the 
victims  of  a  great  crime,  closed  by  a  ghastly  tragedy ;  tho 
Hospitallers,  and  those  Spanish  and  Portuguese  orders  which 
were  enrolled  as  regiments  against  the  Arab  invaders  of  the 
PeninsvJa,  though  titularly  stOl  existing,  yet  really  ceased 
to  be  more  than  a  name  when  the  Moslem  power  in  Europe 
was  finally  broken.  But  the  active  organization  of  women 
was  a  more  fruitful  germ,  and  has  never  since  ceased  to 
put  forth  new  developments,  varying  with  the  notjced  want.-i 
of  each  period.  To  this  epoch  belongs  also  the  beginning 
of  that  policy  of  the  Roman  see  of  utilising  the  monastic 
orders,  won  over  by  special  privileges  and  exemptions,  as  a, 
body  of  supporters — almost  a  militia — more  to  be  relied  on. 
than  the  secular  clergy,  and  thereby  the  seed  of  conflict 
between  seculars  and  regulars,  destined  to  work  much  evil 
later,  was  sown,  and  also  the  beginning  made  of  that  dena- 
tionalisation of  monachism  which  tended  from  the  fixst  to 
its  unpopularity  and  decay. 

It  was  found  that  a  new  order  was  the  best  safety-valve 
for  enthusiasm  which  might  become  dangerous  if  dis- 
couraged, but  which  could  be  made  a  valuable  ally  if 
allowed  to  take  shape  in  a  fresh  society,  hoping  to  surpass- 
all  its  precursors ;  and  it  is  worth  remarking  that  the  one 
occasion  when  this  wise  policy  was  departed  from,  when 
Peter  Waldo  vainly  sought  in  1 179  recognition  and  sanction 
from  Pope  Alexander  UI.  for  his  proposed  institute  of 
mission  preachers,  gave  rise  to  a  sect  (the  Waldenses)- 
which  is  stiU  existing,  and  which  has  given  trouble  to  the 
Roman  Church  quite  disproportionate  to  its  numbers  and 
influence.  The  Carmelites,  founded  by  Berthold  of  Calabria 
on  Mount  Carmel  about  1180,  and  incorporated  under  rule 
by  Albert,  Latin  patriarch  of  Jerusalem  in  1209,  were  the 
last  order  of  importance  which  sprang  up  at  this  time ;  for 
the  Gilbertines,  an  English  order  founded  at  Sempringham 
in  Lincolnshire  in  1H8,  curious  chiefly  for  their  double 
monasteries  for  men  and  women;  the  Beguines,  c.  1170 
(who  are,  however,  notable  for  their  semi-secular  and 
parochial  organization,  whence  many  later  active  bodies 
have  borrowed  hints);  the  Humiliati,  c.  1196;  and  the 
Trinitarians,  for  the  ransom  of  captives  amongst  the  Moors 
and  Saracens,  founded  by  John  de  JIatha  and  Felix  do 
Yalois  in  1197,  never  rose  M  great  influence  or  popularity, 
though  the  Servites,  an  order  of  the  year  1223,  became 
powerful  in  Italy.  This  period  of  rapid  multiplication 
was  quickly  followed  by  one  of  equally  rapid  decay, 
the  first  to  show  clear  tokens  of  degeneracy  being  the  onco 
rigid  Cistercians,  who  never  recovered  their  old  moral  foot- 
ing, and  who,  it  may  be  mentioned,  were  accountable  for 
much  of  that  hatred  of  tb"  f^lhurch  of  the  Pale  in  Ireland 


710 


M  O  :^   A  U  H  i  S  M 


by  the  natives,  which,  given  ffOih  fuel  by  the  Seformation, 
has  lasted  to  the  present  day.i 
Menai-  Yet  another  fresh  departure  in  ths  history  of  monachism, 
cant  in  some  respects  the  most  momentous  of  all,  was  taken  in 
Orders,  ^-^^  j  gth  century  hy  the  institution  of  the  Mendicant  Orders, 
flitriars-  ^^  j,^..^^^^  p^^^  Innocent  m.,  in  the  13th  of  the  70 
constitutions  Oi-  canoes  he  promulgated  at  the  Latei'an 
council  in  1215,  had  expressly  forbidden  the  foundation 
of  any  new  orders,  bidding  all  ■who  desired  to  embrace 
th"  monastic  life  join  some  approved  community,  and 
similarly  directing  that  such  as  desired  to  found  new 
houses  should  take  their  nile  and  constitution  from  one  of 
the  recognized  societies.  But  circumstances  were  too  strong 
for  iim,  and  this  very  pope  was  destined  himself  to  sanction 
two  of  the  most  remarkable  societies  which  the  Latin 
C!hurch  has  ever  produced.  The  time  was  an  anxious  one. 
The  speculative  activity  of  the  age,  coupled  -n-ith  the  abuses 
in  the  chiu'cli,  was  multiplying  sects,  formidable  in  numbers, 
and  still  more  from  the  contrast  their  austere  mode  of  life 
prei;ented,  not  only  to  that  of  the  secular  society  of  the  day, 
but  to  that  of  the  ecclesiastics,  notably  those  of  rank, 
whose  pomp  and  luxury  gave  rise  to  the  first  faint  stirrings 
of  a  revolutionary  spirit  amongst  the  commons,  which  the 
gre'.it  pope,  who  was  then  the  most  conspicuous  figure  in 
Europe,  did  not  fail  to  observe.  No  effectual  weapon  of 
leoistance  seemed  at  hand ;  the  parochial  clergy,  yielding 
to  the  difficulties  which  an  iiclated  rural  life  throws  in  the 
W3,y  of  intellectual  effort  (far  graver  then  than  even  now), 
had  almost  everywhere  sunk  into  sloth  and  incapacity ;  the 
monastic  orders  were  content,  in  the  better  instances,  with 
maintaining  theii-  own  internal  discipline,  and  had  no  surplus 
energy  for  external  work,  while  in  the  worse  examples  (as 
in  that  of  tlie  Cistercians,  just  referred  to)  they  served 
rather  as  beacon?,  of  v/arning  than  as  patterns  for  imitation  ; 
and,  in  short,  there  was  an  ever-increasing  mass  of  home 
mission  work  to  be  done,  and  no  one  to  do  it. 

rsut  the  two  men  who  were  to  do  it  were  already  at 
hand  in  the  persons  of  Francis  Bernardone  of  Assisi  and 
Dominic  Guzrnau  of  Osma.  The  ruling  idea  in  the  mind 
of  the  former  was  the  elevation  of  poverty  to  the  first 
place  amongst  Christian  graces,  as  the  most  obvious  way 
of  conforming  the  life  of  a  Christian  to  that  of  the  founder 
of  his  faith ;  the  more  intellectual  Spaniard  dreamed  of 
an  aggressive  body  of  skilfully-trained  preachers,  able  at 
once  to  grapple  with  the  subtle  dialectic  of  the  enemies  of 
the  established  creed,  and  to  appeal  in  clear  and  homely 
language  to  the  uneducated,  amongst  whom  the  AJbigensts 
and  other  sectaries  were  making  considerable  conquests. 
Francis,,  the  poet  and  devotee,  in  renouncing  even  the 
scantiest  provision  which  the  strictest  orders  of  his  time 
securf,d  for  their  members,  and  bidding  his  followers  to 
live  on  alms  daily  begged,  taking,  in  the  most  literal  sense. 


1  There  is  a  .ery  curious  letter  from  Arunlf,  bishop  of  Lisieux,  tv 
Pope  Alexandur  III.  (1159-1181),  asking  him  to  dissolve  the  Benedictine 
abbey  of  Grestniu  in  that  diocese,  and  to  dr.ift  its  inmates  into  other 
houses,  which  illustrates  both  the  kind  of  abuses  which  were  sometimes 
found  and  the  desire  of  the  autlicritics  to  suppress  them.  He  charg-js 
the  monks  with  lack  of  charity  and  hospitality,  in  that  they  reserved 
even  the  broken  scraps  from  the  common  table  as  perquisites  for  their 
private  friends  ;  that  they  habitually  quarrelled,  and  wounded  one 
another  with  their  knivta,  being  prevented  from  homicide  only  by  the 
knife-blades  having  no  point ;  that  one  monk  had  actually  murdered 
the  cook,  who  had  complained  of  his  visits  to  the  cook's  wife  ;  that  the 
abbot  did  not  provide  for  the  daily  wants  of  the  community,  but  allowed 
the  monks  to  roam  abroad,  picking  up  food  for  themselves  as  best  they 
might ;  that  some  of  them  had  caused  the  death  of  a  sick  woman  by 
plunging  her  into  ice-cold  water  under  pretext  of  working  a  miraculous 
cure  J  that  the  abbot  was  frequently  absent  on  pretence  of  business, 
hut  really  living  a  loose  life  ;  that  ho  had  been  thus  two  years  in 
England,  till  recalled  by  the  bishop,  who  was  forced  to  send  him  awny 
dgain,  after  appointing  a  deputy  ;  that  this  deputy,  when  drunk,  had 
•wounded  two  of  the  monks,  who  thereupon  mnr  lored  him  ;  so  that  the 
(loase  was  practically  pr.st  reformation,  and  ought  to  bo  dissolved. 


no  thought  for  the  morrcTC,  appealed  to  the  iwpnli 
imagination,  always  ready  to  Hndlo  at  the  sight  of  genuica 
self-sacrifice ;  Dominic,  with  not  less  insight  as  a  thinker 
whose  first  care  vras  for  doctrin:il  orthodoxy,  as  that  of 
Francis  was  for  personal  piety,  saw  that  there  was  a 
demand  ready  to  sjirii-.g  up  for  more  exact  and  intelligent 
religious  teaching  th?n  could  then  be  had,  cave  in  a  few 
great  cities.  The  occa-siou  which  urged  him  to  the  task 
he  Vindertook  is  noteworthy.  Hs  had  long  been  a  canon 
of  Osma,  the  strictest  and  sternest  member  cf  an  ascetic 
community,  when  in  1203  he  had  to  go  en  a  journey  with 
his  bishop,  which  brought  them  into  the  very  midst  of  the 
Albigenses  in.  the  county  of  Toulouse,  where  they  saw  how 
powerless  the  clergy  ware  to  contend  against  their  rivals. 
On  their  road  home  the  bishop  and  Dominic  met  the 
three  papal  legates  returning  discomfited  from  Languedoc, 
but  attended  with  as  much  pomp  as  a  triumphal  progress 
would  have  justified.  Dominic  rebuked  them  sternly,  tell- 
ing them  that  it  was  not  by  splendid  retinues  and  costly 
garb  that  the  heretics  won  their  converts,  but  by  zealous 
preaching,  by  humility,  by  austerity,  and  by  at  least 
seeming  holinecs.  Both  the  now  founders  sought  and 
obtained  at  Kome,  after  some  difficulty,  the  approval  of 
their  new  institutes,  and  that  in  the  very  yeor  1215  which 
had  seep  the  formal  prohibition  of  all  fresh  orders. 
Francis  speedily  returned  to  his  home,  but  Dominic,  whose 
idea  had  by  this  time  expanded  from  that  of  converting 
merely  the  Albigenses  of  Provence  and  Languedoc  to  that 
of  influencing  the  whole  world  of  nominal  Christians  and 
outer  heathen,  settled  himself  in  Rome,  where  the  pope 
appointed  him  to  the  important  office  of  Master  of  the 
Sacred  Palace,  which  has  ever  since  been  held  by  a 
Dominican,  and  carries  with  it  the  authority  of  chief 
censorship  of  the  press.  The  two  new  foundations 
borrowed  from  each  other,  Francis  copying  Dominic's 
scheme  of  itinerant  preachers,  and  Dominic  imposing  on 
his  disciples  the  mendicant  poverty  of  Assisi.  These  two 
particulars,  the  total  absence — at  any  rate  at  first — of  such 
endowments  as  had  proved  a  snare  to  the  older  societies, 
and  the  substitution  of  itinerancy  for  inclosure,  are  the 
features  which  distinguish  the  friars  from  the  monks  who 
preceded  them.  The  Franciscan  institute  was  a  bold 
attempt  to  democratize  the  church ;  Dominic's  Friar 
Preachers,  though  recruited  freelj'  from  men  of  a  humble 
grade,  have  always  had  somewhat  more  of  an  aristocratic 
tone  about  them,  due  to  tlicir  intellectual  calling;  they 
have  held  a  high  place  in  Christian  art,  counting  amongst 
them  such  names  as  Fra  Angelico  and  Baccio  della  Porta ; 
and  their  reputation  for  orthodoxy  and  for  a  purer  type 
of  moral  theology  than  the  Jesuit  one  has  always  stood 
high.  They  also  count  amongst  their  members  the  two 
most  eminent  divines  of  the  Middle  Ages,  Albertus 
Magnus  and  Thomas  Aquinas,  and  they  have  been  fruitful 
in  producing  zealous  missionaries ;  but  the  or  e  L,reat  blot 
on  their  career  is  that  they  have  been  the  directors  and 
ofSciols  of  the  Inquisition  ever  since  the  formal  constitu- 
tion of  that  tribunal  as  a  permanent  organization.  The 
Franciscans,  less  distinguished  for  mental  triimiphs  than 
their  competitors,  have  yet  some  famous  names  ch'ef  of 
which  are  Duns  Scotus  and  Roger  Bacon. — lor  Pc/iaven- 
tura,  though  set  by  the  Franciscans  as  the  " Sirr.phic 
Doctor"  in  competition  with  Aquinas,  the  "Angelic 
Doctor"  of  the  Dominicans,  is  scarcely  entitled  to  very 
high  intellectual  rank — and  at  one  time  they  seemed  likely 
to  establish  as  firm  a  hold  on  the  university  of  Oxford  as 
the  Dominicans  did  on  that  of  Paris.  The  swiftest  success 
and  popularity  attended  the  two  new  orders ;  privileges 
■and  exemptions  were  showered  on  them  from  Rome ; 
wealth,  in  despite  of  their  vow  of  mendicancy,  was 
emulously  thrust  upon  them  by  the  laity ;  and,  above  alljj 


M  O  In  A  C  H  1  S  M 


711 


a  remarkable  and  widcsjiread  religioas  reviva',  a  dead-lift 
to  ministerial  efnciency  in  every  direction,  repaid  their 
early  labours,  while  they  had  between  them  almost  a 
monopoly  of  the  popedom  for  nearly  two  hundred  years. 
And  one  peculiarity  of  their  organization  gave  them  a 
degree  cf  strength  which  no  other  orders  possessed.  ■  Each 
monasti.ry  of  the  older  societies  was  practically  isolated 
and  independent  of  all  others,  unless  it  were  itself  a 
dependent  priory  or  cell  belonging  to  a  greater  house. 
Some  societies  had,  it  is  tiue,  general  chapters,  but  these 
were  rare,  and  at  best  only  effectual  in  establishing  a 
certain  uniformity  of  practice  in  all  houses  of  the  same 
-.no.  But  the  Friars,  like  the  Templars  and  Hospitallers  of 
Sin  earlier  day,  and  like  the  Jesuits  of  a  later  one,  were 
enrolled  in  something  of  military  fashion,  under  a  superior- 
general,  ^vith  wide  powers,  who  directed  and  controlled 
'heir  actions  from  one  central  point.  Every  group  of 
neighbouring  friaries  was  formed  into  a  congregation, 
under  a  local  head  or  provincial,  and  he  was  always  in 
direct  communication  with  the  general,  so  that  a  common 
government  united  the  whole  body  into  a  compact  mass. 
But  their  very  success  was  fatal  to  their  character.  The 
vow  of  poverty  was  the  first  part  of  their  institute  to 
break  donm.  Even  before  they  began  to  be  counted 
amongst  the  richest  orders  of  Christendom,  there  is 
indisputable  evidence  —  that  of  Bonarentura,  himself 
general  of  the  Franciscans — that  the  mendicant  system 
was  working  nothing  but  mischief.  He  tells  us,  writing 
while  the  order  wis  still  very  young,  and  within  fifty 
years  of  the  founder's  death,  that  it  was  even  more  en- 
tingled  in  money  cares  and  business  concerns  than  the 
endowed  communities,  precisely  because  there  were  no 
funds  available  to  fall  back  on  in  emergencies ;  that  the 
brethren,  discouraged  from  work  by  mendicancy,  were 
habitually  idle ;  tliat  they  roamed  about  in  disorderly 
fashion  under  pretext  of  questing ;  that  they  were  such 
brazen  and  shameless  beggars  as  to  make  a  Franciscan  as 
much  dreaded  by  travellers  as  a  highwayman ;  that  they 
made  undesirable  acquaintances,  thus  giving  rise  to  evil 
reports  and  scandal ;  that  conventual  offices  had  to  be  en- 
trusted to  imtried,  unspiritual,  and  incompetent  brethren  ; 
that  vast  sums  were  lavished  on  costly  buUdings ;  and  that 
the  friars  were  greedy  in  the  pursuit  of  burial  fees  and  of 
legacies,  so  that  they  encroached  upon  the  rights  of  the 
parochial  clergy.  If  such  were  the  mischiefs  at  work  before 
the  first  zeal  had  begun  to  cool,  it  may  readily  be  gathered 
how  entire  Avas  the  failure  at  a  later  time.  Indeed,  as 
regards  the  Franciscans,  not  only  did  they  endeavour  to 
evade  the  stringency  of  their  institute  even  in  their 
founder's  lifetime,  but  the  whole  society  was  soon  divided 
into  two  hostile  camps,  one  of  which  desired  to  adhei-e 
closely  to  the  original  rule,  v/hile  the  other  was  content  to 
fall  in  with  the  habits  of  the  "  possession ers,"  as  they  had 
been  wont  contemptuously  to  name  the  endowed  orders. 
And  what  is  very  curious  in  this  connexion  is  that  the 
friars  who  were  loyal  to  the  principle  of  poverty  broke 
away  for  the  most  part  from  the  church,  forming  new 
sects,  such  as  the  Fratricelli,  or  attaching  themselves  to 
elder  ones,  like  the  Beghards  and  the  Apostolici,  which 
handed  on  in  secret  the  Gnostic  traditions  of  the  third 
century,  apparently  stamped  out  in  the  crusade  against 
the  Albigenses,  while  those  who  openly  disregarded  the 
will  of  their  founder  remained  steadfastly  in  the  Latin 
church.  No  order,  except  the  Benedictines,  has  had  so 
many  branches  and  reforms  as  the  Franciscans ;  amongst 
which  it  will  suffice  to  name  the  Capuchins,  the  Minims; 
the  Observants,  and  the  Recollects ;.  while  the  Poor 
Clares,  the  nuns  of  the  institute,  have  also  divided  into 
■Clarissines  and  Urbanists.  The  institution  of  Tertiaries, 
seculars  affiliated  to  the  order  as  honprary  members,  while 


continuing  to  live  in  the  world,  and  P.dopting  a  certain 
modified  daily  rule,  was  a  powerful  factor  in  the  success 
and  strength  of  the  order,  and  was  adopted,  but  with  less 
conspicuous  results,  by  the  Dominicans.  The  rivalry  of 
these  two  great  bodies  with  each  other,  prolonged  with 
much  bitterness  for  centuries,  and  their  disputes  with  the 
parochial  clergy,  whom  they  long  displaced  in  general 
repute  and  influence,  belong  rather  to  general  church 
history  than  to  the  annals  of  monachism,  and  may  be 
passed  by  with  this  brief  allusion  ;  while  it  suffices  to  say 
that  all  the  support  they,  and  the  other  less  important 
communities  of  the  same  kind,  such  as  the  Carmelite  and 
Austin  Friars,  received  from  the  popes,  whose  most  effective 
allies  they  were  in  every  tountry  where  their  houses  were 
found,  was  not  able  to  avert  their  decline  in  general 
estimation ;  and  there  is  no  f.gure  in  later  mediaeval 
literativre  on  which  the  vials  of  contempt  and  indignation 
are  so  freely  poured  as  on  the  begging  friar,  and  that,  it 
must  be  said,  deservedly. 

As  the  1 3th  century  is  the  apogee  of  later  monachism.  Decline 
so  the  decline  begins  steadily  at  the  very  outset  of  the  of  moo* 
lith  (which  is  also  the  date  of  ordination  becoming  the '^'''*'"' 
normal  custom  for  choir-monks,  instsad  of  the  exception, .  .  ^'"'' 
as  formerly),  continiung  down  to  the  crash  of  the  Keforma- 
tion.i  The  great  schism  of  the  West,  the  rise  of  the 
Wickliffites  and  Lollards  in  England,  and  of  the  body 
later  known  as  Hussites  in  Bohemia,  could  not  fail  to  act 
injuriously  on  the  monastic  orders ;  and,  though  the 
creation  of  fresh  ones  continued,  none  of  those  founded 
during  this  era  were  influential,  and  few  durable.  It 
will  suffice  to  name  some  of  the  more  prominent : — the 
Olivetans  in  1313,  who  were  rigid  Benedictines  ;  the  nuns 
of  Bridget  of  Sweden  in  1363,  who  followed  a  rule  compiled 
from  those  of  Basil  and  Augustine ;  the  Hieronymite 
monks  in  1374 ;  the  Brethren  of  the  Common  Life, 
founded  by  Gerard  Groot  in  1376,  who  did  much  for 
education  and  in  home  mission  work,  but  are  chiefly 
famous  now  in  virtue  of  one  member  of  their  society, 
Thomas  a  Kempis ;  the  Hieronymite  Hennits  in  1373-1377 ; 
the  Minims  in  1435;  the  Bamabites,  a  preaching  and  edu- 
cational order,  in  1484;  the  Theatins  (a  body  of  Clerks 
Regular  who  aimed  at  little  more  than  raising  the  tone  of 
clerical  life,  made  but  slight  pretension  to  austerity,  and 
are,  indeed,  mainly  noticeable  as  having  suggested  to  Igna- 
tius Loyola  several  points  which  he  adopted  in  regulating 
the  mode  of  life  to  be  pursued  by  the  members  of  his 
institute)  in  1524  ;  and  the  Capuchins  in  1525. 

In  the  Reformation  era  itself  the  monastic  bodies  had 
sunk  so  low  in  the  estimation  of  even  the  rulers  of  the 
church  that  one  clause  in  the  report  of  the  committee  of 
cardinals  appointed  by  Pope  Paid  III.  (a  body  composed 
of  Sadolet,  Contarini,  Eeginald  Pole,  Giberti,  Fregoso, 
Badia,  Aleandro,  and  Caraffa,  afterwards  Paul  lY.), 
delivered  in  1538,  was  worded  as  follows  : — 

"  Aaother  abuse  which  needs  correction  is  in  the  religious  ordera, 
because  they  have  deteriorated  to  such  au  extent  that  they  are  a 
grave  scandal  to  seculars,  and  do  the  greatest  harm  by  their 
example.  We  are  of  opinion  that  they  should  bo  all  abolished, 
not  so  as  to  injure  [the  vested  interests  of]  any  one,  but  by  forbidding 
them  to  receive  novices  ;  for  in  this  wise  they  can  be  quickly  done 


•  Tbe  lang-joge  of  Nicolas  de  Clamenges  (1360-1440)— rcttor  of  the 
university  of  Paris,  known  as  tlie  "  Doctor  Theologus  " — in  his  treatise 
Be  Corrupio  EccUsim  Statu,  paints  tbe  moral  decay  of  tlio  monastic 
bodies,  and  especially  of  the  Mendicants,  in  the  very  darkest  colours. 
He  not  only  charges  them  with  waste,  idleness,  gluttony,  drunkenness, 
and  profligacy,  but  alleges  the  condition  of  convents  of  nuns  to  be  sucb 
that  there  was  little  practical  difference  between  allowing  a  girl  to  take 
the  veil  and  openly  consigning  her  to  a  life  of  public  vice.  And  the 
Jievdations  of  Bridget  of  Sweden  (1302-1373),  approved  by  the  coun- 
cils of  Constance  and  Basel,  and  by  Popes  Urban  VI.,  Martin  V.,  and 
Paul  v.,  fiUly  confirm  the  darkest  features  of  this  testimony  as  regudj 
the  religious  houses  of  the  14th  century. 


712 


M  O  2^   A  C  H  1  S  J\I 


away  with  without  wrong  to  .my  inc,  and  L'ood  religious  can  be  put 
in  their  place.  At  present  we  tliiiik  the  best  thing  to  be  done  is 
to  dismiss  all  the  uuprofessed  jouths  from  their  monasteries." 

As  this  formal  document  showed  the  current  of  high 
ecclesiastical  opinion,  so  the  lay  view  took  expression  in 
the  Epistola,  Obscurormn  Virorum  of  Ulrich  von  Hutten, 
which  was  to  the  Dominicans  of  the  16th  century  almost 
what  the  Proiincinles  of  Pa.scal  were  to  the  Jesuits  of  the 
17th  ;  while  they  came  also  .nder  the  more  delicate  scalpel 
of  Erasmus's  wit.  Not  that  the  objections  were  wholly 
new,  for  it  is  evident  from  Thomas  Aquinas's  defence  of 
monachisru  against  its  detractors  that  they  were  nearly  all 
dsed  in  the  13th  century.  The  interests  involved  were, 
however,  too  vast  and  complicated,  the  supposed  impolicy 
of  an  admission  on  so  large  a  scale  of  the  charges  alleged 
against  monachism  by  the  men  of  the  New  Learning  too 
serious,  to  allow  of  any  such  sweeping  measure  of  reform 
as  that  proposed  by  the  cardinals  being  carried  out.  A 
certain  amount  of  discouragement  shown  towards  the  older 
societies ;  the  enactment  of  some  partial  corrections  by 
the  couDcU  of  Trent,  not  touching  any  principle  whatever, 
but  apparently  saying  something  because  public  feeling 
looked  for  something  to  be  said ;  and,  above  all,  the  crea- 
tion of  a  new  type  of  order,  the  famous  Company  of 
the  Jesuits  (1534),  represent  the  total  action  taken  by 
the  Roman  Church  during  the  actual  crisis  of  the  Kefor- 
mation.  Apart  from  such  direct  revolts  from  the  Latin 
obedience  as  those  in  Bern,  Zurich,  Denmark,  and  Sweden, 
which  at  once  involved  the  monasteries  in  the  general 
overthrow  of  the  old  system  of  things  religious,  the  most 
remarkable  proceedings  in  the  reaction  against  monachism 
were  those  taken  in  England,  at  a  time  when  no  breach 
with  the  Roman  Curia  was  thought  of.  So  far  back  as 
the  13th  century  Kings  John  and  Edward  I.,  and  yet 
again  in  1337  Edward  HI.,  had  confiscated  the  "alien 
priories,"  as  those  houses  were  called  which  were  depend- 
encies of  foreign  monasteries,  and  the  last  named  let  out 
their  lands  and  tenements  until  the  peace  with  France  in 
1361,  when  he  restored  their  estates;  and  similar  raids  were 
made  on  them  both  in  his  reign  and  in  that  of  Richard  II. 
Henry  LV.  showed  them  more  favour;  but  in  1410  the 
House  of  Commons  proposed  the  confiscation  of  all  the 
tempoialities  held  by  bishops,  abbots,  and  priors,  petition- 
ing the  crown  to  employ  their  revenues  in  paying  a 
standing  army  of  knights  and  soldiers,  in  augmenting  the 
incomes  of  some  of  the  nobles  and  gentry,  in  endowing  a 
hundred  hospitals,  aud  in  making  small  yearly  payments  to 
the  secular  clergy.  This  fact  attests  the  imix)pularity 
of  the  church  and  the  religious  orders  at  the  time,  and, 
though  the  large  scheme  was  dropped,  yet  in  1416  parlia- 
ment dissolved  all  the  alien  priories,  and  vested  their 
estates  in  the  crown.  They  were  for  the  most  part 
applied  to  ecclesiastical  purposes ;  but  some  portion,  at 
any  rate,  pass»d  into  private  hands,  aud  was  permanently 
alienated.  Hence  there  was  nothing  to  create  sm'prise, 
much  less  opposition,  when  Cardinal  Wolsey  in  1523 
obtained  bulls  from  the  pope  authorizing  the  suppression 
of  forty  small  monasteries  and  the  application  of  their 
revenues  to  educational  foundations,  on  the  plea  that 
these  le.-i.ser  houses  were  quite  u.seless,  and  not  homes  of 
either  religion  or  learning,  whereas  a  learned  clergy  was 
imi>cratively  needed  to  combat  the  new  religious  opinions 
which  were  making  rapid  way.  And  that  the  monasteries 
had  been  subject  to  serious  vicissitudes  all  along  apjicars 
from  the  fact  that  only  about  one  half  of  all  the  founda- 
tions known  to  have  been  made  in  England  were  in 
existence  at  the  date  of  the  dissolution.  There  is  little 
reason  to  trust  the  charges  of  immorality  brought  against 
the  monks  when  Henry  XHl.  had  once  resolved  on  the 
Jiilloge  of  the  monasteries,  seeing  Low  the  path  opene-I 


by  Wolsey  could  be  followed  up.  The  characters  of  tho- 
king  himself,  of  Cromwell,  his  chief  agent  in  the  disso 
lution,  and  of  Layton,  Legh,  and  others  of  the  visitors 
appointed  to  inquire  into  the  condition  of  the  houses,  arc 
such,  as  to  deprive  their  statements  of  all  credit ;  and, 
besides,  the  earlier  Act  of  dissolution,  granting  the  smaller 
monasteries  to  the  king,  limits  the  chaiges  of  misconduct 
to  them,  expressly  acquitting  the  laiger  houses.  Never- 
thelesf?,  when  the  apjietite  for  ]>hmder  had  increased  with 
the  first  taste  of  booty,  accusations  of  precisely  the  same 
sort  were  brought  up  against  the  gr<:at  monasteries, 
though  in  no  instance  has  any  verifiable  )iioof  been  pre- 
served.' But  there  can  be  no  reasonable  doubt  (especially 
"in  view  of  the  visitations  of  Archbishop  Warhara  and  other 
pre-Reformation  prelates),  that  the  religious  houses,  viewed 
simply  as  corporate  estates,  had  been  very  badly  managed 
for  a  considerable  time,  were  heavily  encumbered,  and  a 
v,-eight  round  the  neck  of  financial  piogress  in  England; 
and  that,  as  spiritual  agencies,  they  had  mainly  outlived 
their  usefulness,  so  that,  lamentable  as  weie  the  cii'cum- 
stances  of  their  destruction,  and  scandalous  as  was  the 
waste  of  the  property  seized,  there  is  little  rea.'=ou  to  sup- 
pose that  any  practical  benefit  would  have  flowed  from 
their  continuance,  whatever  might  have  been  the  advautagea 
of  an  honest  and  economical  measure  of  reform,  or  even  of  ■> 
transfer  to  other  purposes  on  the  principle  of  cy  pres." 

The  negative  evidence  of  the  etTetene's  of  the  older 
orders  supplied  by  their  very  small  share  in  the  counter- 
Reformation,  which  lay  virtually  in  the  hands  of  the 
Jesuits  alone,  is  reinforced  by  the  reports  made  by  the 
emissaries  of  the  new  company  to  their  superiors,  which 
attest  that  the  accusations  of  the  German  reformers  again.^t 
both  the  secular  and  regular  clergy  on  the  score  of  ign.^r- 
ance  and  dissoluteness  were  only  too  well  founded. 
Accordingly  several  new  societies  were  instituted  during  Later 
the  latter  half  of  the  16th  century,  aiming  at  putting  new  societies 
wine  into  the  old  bottles  of  the  CarmeUtea,  Cistercians, 
Augustinians,  Dominicans,  and  Benedictines ;  but  none  of 
them  proved  of  much  importance.  A  larger  measure  of 
success  attended  some  established  on  an  active  basis,  such 
as  the  Fathers  of  Christian  Doctrine,  a  catechizing  order 
erected  by  Pins  V.  in  1571  ;  two  communities  for  tending 
the  siclc,  one  founded  in  Italy  by  Camillo  de'  Lolli  in 
1584,  the  other,  the  Brothers  of  Charity,  by  John  of 
God  at  Granada  in  1538,  but  not  formally  sanctioned  till' 
1572;  and  still  more  [irosperity  attended  the  Ursnline 
Nuns,  a  comnumity  chiefly  devoted  to  the  education  of 
young  girls,  founded  at  Brescia  by  Angela  de'  ilerici  in 
1537,  and  confirmed  by  Paul  III.  in  1544.  Yet,  \\ith  the 
single  exception  of  the  Jesuits,  no  new  society  could  be  said 
to  have  laid  hold  in  any  degree  of  the  popular  mind,  nor 
were  the  attempts  to  revivify  the  elder  bodies  continued. 
It  remained  for  two  newer  still  to  rehabilitate  the  waning 
respect  for  monachism  of  all  kinds,  and  that  by  borrowing 
one  chief  feature  of  the  Jesuit  organization,  the  abaiidon- 
ment  of  that  principle  of  isolation  from  the  outer  world 
which  lies  at  the  root  of  true  monachism. ^     Of  these  the 


^  A  full  examinatiou  of  the  ca^  against  the  n)Ouasteries  T\ijl  bo 
found  m  Dixon,  llistor!)  </  Ou  Cl.iiftli  of  Engloi'J,  vol.  i.  pp.  321- 
3S3. 

Tlie  number  of  houses  suppressed  and  overthrown  by  the  two  Acts 
of  1536  and  153S  was  as  follow.:— 186  Beiiedicline  houses,  173  Aujus- 
tiuians,  101  Cistercians,  33  Dominican,  Franciscan.  Cermelite,  and 
Austin  friaries,  32  rr.-vmonytratensiaus,  2S  KuiRlits  Hobi.iwHers, 
25  Gilljcrtiucs.  20  Cluui.ics,  9  Carthusiani..  3  Fontevnud.  J 
Miuoresscs,  2  Bonhoninies,  1  Brigittine  ;  total,  616.  Their  aggregate 
revenues  were  valued  at  £142.9H,  12».  9cl.  annu.illy. 

'  Soon  after  the  Jesuits  rose  into  note  and  popularity,  .» very  curioui 
aud  litlle  kuowu  ertcnsion  of  their  iustitule  was  made  in  Flaudcn. 
Two  English  la<lie^  acting  with  tho  sympathy  and  counsel  if  not  at 
the  recomniendatiou  of  F.  Gcr.ird,  rector  of  the  Jesuit  coUcu'o  iit 
\.\l'7P.  fnuudcd  a  community  which  they  named  Jesuitesses,  adoplins 


MOIsACHISM 


713 


■first  was  t!ie  Orator j,  founded  by  Philip  Neri  in  155S,  but 
not  approved  by  authority  till  1577,  and  copied  .'nde- 
ptndently  by  Cardinal  de  BeiTille  at  Paris  in  IGll.  There 
Tvcre  no  vowi  imposed  on  the  members  of  this  society 
though  they  lived  vmder  rule,  and  they  employed  them- 
selves in  doing  all  kinds  of  clerical  work  under  episcopal 
supervision.  The  Italian  house  is  chiefly  celebrated  as 
having  included  the  famous  Cardinal  Baronius  amongst 
its  earliest  recruits ;  but  the  French  one  held  a  high  place 
in  tlie  religious  revival  of  the  17th  century,  well-nigh 
rivalling  the  Benedictines  of  St  Maur  in  learning  (with 
such  representatives  as  Simon,  Thomassin,  Morin,  and 
Malebranche),  and  the  reformed  Cistercians  of  Port-Royal 
in  piety,  though  sharing  with  the  latter  the  reproach  of 
Jansenism.  But  the  second  was  far  more  influential,  and 
has  been  fruitful  ever  since  in  the  works  of  its  copjTsts  as 
well  as  in  ir,s  own.  It  was  the  institute  of  the  Sisters 
of  Charity,  established  by  Vincent  de  Paul  in  1634,  on 
the  lines  of  the  ancient  community  of  the  Hospitaller 
Xuns  of  St  Augustine,  but  with  some  remarkable  modi- 
fications, not  only  in  respect  of  the  vows,  which  were  only 
yearly  and  inward,  but  in  the  spirit  of  their  discipline,  as 
forraidatcd  in  his  own  memorable  words, — "  Your  convent 
must  be  the  houses  of  the  sick ;  your  cell,  the  chamber  of 
suffering ;  your  chapel,  the  parish  church ;  your  cloister, 
the  streets  of  the  city,  or  the  wards  of  the  hospital;  your 
rule,  the  general  vow  of  obedience ;  your  grille,  the  fear 
of  God;  your  veil  to  shut  out  the  world,  holy  modesty." 
The  original  scheme  of  Francis  de  Sales  for  the  Nuns  of 
tlis  Visitation,  founded  in  1610,  was  almost  identical; 
but  the  opposition  was  then  far  too  strong,  and  he  was 
forced  to  m!.ke  them  a  cloistered  community.  Vincent's 
order  of  Mission  Priests,  more  commonly  known  as  Lazar- 
ists,  was  also  a  successful  and  useful  institute,  though 
not  vying  in  the  extent  of  its  influence  with  the  other, 
which,*  as  has,  been  implied,  has  powerfully  aflfected  the 
organization  of  many  of  the  active  communities  which 
jhave  since  been  forme^.  No  religious  body  did  more  to 
|enable  French  monachlsm  to  bear  up  against  the  general 
obloquy  it  encountered  during  the  16th,  17th,  and  early 
;18th  centuries, — a  temper  on  the  part  of  the  public  due 
to  more  than  one  cause.  In  the.  first  place,  the  wars  of  ^ 
religion  had  done  much  to  harden  and  coarsen  the  "feelings 
on  both  sides,  and  rigid  adherence  to  the  extreme  positions 
of  Catholics  or  Huguenots,  as  the  case  might  be,  was  set 
far  above  any  gentler  and  liigher  ideas.  Next,  the  monas- 
teries of  both  sexes  had.  all  but  universally  fallen  into  the 
patronage  of  the  crown  (in  virtue  of  .the  concordat  of 
Bologna,  between  Pope  Leo  X.  and  Francis  I.),  and  were 
jobbed  away  as  apanages  for  a  dissolute  nobility,  who 
bquandered  the  revenues,  and  suffered  discipline  to  become 
relaxed,  often  to  the  generation  of  serious  scandals.  This 
malversation  operated  in  two  ways.  It  made  the  monas- 
teries hard  and  bad  landlords,  grasping  closely  aU  the 
feudal  privileges  and  monopolies  which  they  continued  to 
enjoy,  a  proceeding  which  bore  hard  on  the  tenants  and 
labourers,  so  that  the  monks  shared  to  the  full  the  unpopu- 
larity of  the  nobles  (precisely  as  was  the  case  in  Germany, 
during  the  Peasants'  War  of  1525)  ;  and  the  evil  repute  of 


the  nile  aud  orgnnizationof  tlio  famous  compoay,  and  takisg  the  three 
lisu.'\l  rows,  but,  with  a  bold  Jisi-eganl  of  precedent,  not  only  omitting 
the  customary  tow  of  inclosure,  but  actually  sending  the  members  of 
the  society  out  .is  itinerant  preachei-s.  Their  object  w«3  to  train  a 
body  of  emissaries  for  the  Roman  Catholic  mission  in  lEngland,  who 
might  obtain  entrance  and  escape  the  incidence  of  the  penal  laws  in  a 
nianLer  impracticable  for  men.  They  had  considerable  success  for  a 
time;  and  Jlrs  Ward,  their  projector,  obtained  some  degree  of  papal 
approval,  and  becnme  "mother-general"  over  more  than  200  of  these 
I'.r.i.ale  preachers  in  the  various  colleges  of  the  society.  But  after  an 
existence  of  about  eighty  years  it  was  suppressed  by  Pope  Urban  VIII 
in  1630 


the  convents — of  whose  real  c^iaracier  we  get  at  least  one 
trustworthy  glimpse  in  the  account  of  the  abbey  of  ilau- 
biiisson  which  Angelique  Amauld  reformed — came  home 
to  all  the  Huguenots  and  their  friends,  because  both  before 
and  after  the  legal  continuance  of  the  edict  of  Nantes  they 
were  used  (according  to  a  very  early  application  of  monastic 
houses  not  yet  obsolete)  as  prisons,  where  Huguenot  womei?- 
and  girls  were  shut  up  in  order  to  bring  about  their  cor— r- 
sion,  forcibly  if  necessarj',  but  somehow  in  any  case.  And 
there  is  evidence  to  show  that  the  Huguenots  resented  thk 
policy  most  bitterly,  not  only  on  polemical  grounds,  but  bo- 
cause  they  were  firmly  persuaded  that  the  morals  of  ti^eir 
wives,  daughters,  and  sisters  were  in  no  less  peril  than  their 
faith  iu  such  places.  When  to  this  sentiment  is  added  the 
hostility  of  the  Jansenists  to  the  school  of  opinion  which 
had  persecuted  them,  razed  their  famous  house  of  Port- 
Royal,  and  literally  flung  the  bones  of  its  deceased  member.^ 
to  the  dogs,  it  will  be  easy  to  judge  how  powerful  were 
the  forces  mustering  for  the  overthrow  of  monachism,  >nd 
how  little  even  such  stem  reforms  as  De  Ranch's  at  La 
Trappe,  which  has  always  had  a  marked  attraction  for 
soldiers,  could  do  towards  abating  the  danger.  Nor  were- 
there  wanting  public  scandals  and  cases  before  the  law- 
courts  which  helped  to  fan  the  rising  flames  of  hatred.' 
Another  cause  which  contributed  much  to  the  decay  oS 
discipline  and  of  practical  religion  in  monasteries  of  both 
sexes  was  the  custom  which  prevailed  throughout  the  16th, 
17th,  and  18th  centuries,  of  disposing  of  the  younger 
members  of  poor  but  noble  families  in  the  cloister  as  a 
safe  and  reputable  provision,  without  any  regard  to  the 
vocation  of  these  so  dedicated,  and  merely  because  the 
sum  which  sufficed  to  secure  permanent  admis-^ion  was 
much  smaller  than  that  necessary  to  purchase  a  commis- 
sion or  public  office  A)r  a  son,  or  to  provide  an  adequate 
dowry  for  a  daughter.''  At  the  Revolution,  the  religious  buijpn.-*- 
houses,  amounting  (without  reckoning  various  minor  colleges  *'""  pf 
and  dependent  establishments)  to  820  abbeys  of  men  and  ''""^l 
255of  women,  with  aggregate  revenues  of  95,000,000  livres,  |„oDas> 
were  suppressed  by  the  laws  of  13th  February  1790  and  icriea. 
18th  August  1792.  In  Germany  the  storm  had  broken 
somewhat  earlier,  if  not  quite  so  violently.  The  Thirty 
Years'  War  had  wrought  much  mischief  to  not  .a  few  of  the 
religious  houses,  without  taking  into  account  the  great 
number  Which  had  been  destroyed  in  the  territories  of  the 
Protestant  princes ;  and  when  the  death  of  Maria  Theresa 
in  1780  left  her  son  Joseph  II.  free  to  act  as  he  pleased, 
he  dissolved  the  Mendicant  orders,  and  suppressed,  in  despit{ 
of  the  personal  reiaonstrances  of  Pius  VI.,  the  greater  numbei 
of  monasteries  and  convents  in  his  dominions.  In  Italy, 
despite  the  multiplication  of  new  institutes,  the  process 
of  decay  continued  throughout  the  17th  century,  and  one 
most  remarkable  testimony  to  the  fact  appears  in  the 
report. of  the  Venetian  ambassadors  at  Rome  in  1650  to 
their  government  of  on  interview  they  had  \rith  Pope 
Alexander  VIL 


^  One  of  these  is  interesting,  as  settling  a  point  which  has  bean 
often  disputed, — the  existence  of  those  mouastic  dungeons  known  by 
the  name  of  *'  in-pace,"  f.amiliar  to  the  readers  of  Marmion.  It  is  the 
condemnation  of  the  abbot  of  Clnin-aui  by  the  parle:nent  of  Paris  in. 
1763  to  a  fine  of  40,000  crowns  for  causing  the  death  of  a  prisoner  in 
an  "in-pace."  « 

*  This  worked  mnch  evil  in  France,  but  produced  perhaps  even 
greater  mischief  in  Germany,  where  what  were  styled  **  Noble  Abbej-s" 
were  not  uncommon,  entrance  to  which,  save  in  the  inferior  capacity 
of  lay-members,  was  barred  against  all  who  could  not  prove  patrician 
descent  and  a  certain  number  of  armorial  qnartcrings.  A  relic  of  this 
survives  in  a  few  secular  Stijlungen  (Protestant  and  Catholic)  for  noble 
canonesses  in  Germany;  aud  the  notion  was  at  any  rate  as  respectable 
as  that  which  holds  good  in  some  communities  even  now,  where  women 
who  can  pay  a  certain  sum  at  entrance  are  admitted  as  choir-sisters, 
while  those  who  cannot  do  ao  must  accept  the  humblor  position  of  lay- 
sisters. 

XVX  —  9<» 


714 


MOi-^iiCHISM 


"The  Pontiff  .  .  .  began  by  saying  that  for  some  time  past  the 
Apostolic  See,  considering  not  the  abundance  only,  but  the  super- 
fiuity  of  religious  institutes,  had  become  convinced  that  some  of 
them,  degenerating  from  the  first  design  of  their  founders,  had 
lapsed  into  a  total  relaxation  of  discipline,  and  that  it  was  just  as 
advisable  for  the  church  as  for  the  laity  to  adoj.t  the  expedients 
used  by  wise  husbandmen  when  they  see  that  the  multitude  of 
branches  has  impoverished  their  vines  instead  of  making  them  more 
fruitful.  That  a  beginning  had  been  made  in  that  matter  by  sup- 
pressing some  orders;    but   this  was   not   enough A   great 

number  of  very  small  convents  had  been  supj.ressed,  .  .  .  and 
it  was  proposed  to  continue  the  work  by  proceeding  to  the  final 
abolition  of  certain  others  which,  by  their  licentious  mode  of  life, 
filled  the  world  with  scandal  and  murmurs.  .  .  .  Tliat  he  proceeded 
slowly,  because  he  desired,  in  a  matter  of  so  much  importance,  to 
obtain  the  good-will  of  the  secular  princes.  .  .  ."  The  remarks 
closed  with  a  recommendation  to  the  republic  of  Venice  to  suppress 
the  canons  of  San  Spirito  and  the  Crucifcti  in  their  city,  and  to 
apply  their  revenues  towards  defraying  the  cost  of  the  war  in 
Candia.    (Ranke,  Die  Rom.  Pdpate,  App.  Ko.  129.) 

But  the  policy  thus  indicated  was  not  carried  out  Ijy 
Alexander  VII.'s  successors,  and  there  is  evidence  that 
things  did  not  mend  as  time  went  on.  The  emperor 
Francis  I.,  in  his  character  of  grand-dul;e  of  Tuscany, 
caused  an  edict  to  be  published  at  Florence  in  17.51, 
forbidding  tlie  clergy  to  acquire  property  in  mortmain, 
and  is.sued  together  with  it  a  paper  of  instructions  pointing 
out  the  grave  social  disadvantages  of  enriching  artificial 
families,  such  as  convents,  colleges,  and  the  like,  at  the  ex- 
pense of  natural  families.  And  the  menace  implied  in  these 
documents  was  carried  into  operation  by  the  suppression 
of  several  convents  of  nuns,  for  which  the  reluctant  con- 
sent of  the  pope  (Benedict  XIV.)  was  extorted.  When 
Francis  died  in  1765,  and  wa.9  succeeded  in  Tuscany  by 
his  brother  Peter  Leopold,  the  latter  began  his  reign  with 
what  may  be  styled  a  formal  act  of  war  against  the  Roman 
Curia,  by  declaring  the  bull  In  Ca'na  Domini  null  and 
void  in  Tuscan}',  and  forbidding  its  recognition 'or  publi- 
cation there.  At  once  he  was  beset  with  appeals  from 
priests  and  nuns,  calling  his  attention  to  several  grave 
abuses  in  the  church,  and  notably  to  moral  scandals  of  the 
most  serious  kind  in  the  convents  of  nuns,  especially  those 
under  the  direction  of  the  Dominicans,  accusations  which 
were  fortified  with  full  details  of  time  and  place.  The 
result  was  that  Leopold  caused  a  scheme  of  ecclesiastical 
reform  to  be  drawn  up  in  1770,  containing  stringent 
enactments  for  the  abatement  of  nionachism,  for  the 
suppression  of  all  small  convents  of  mendicants,  and  for 
the  exclusion  of  monks  and  friars  from  the  direction  of 
nunneries,  which  were  to  be  subject  in  all  spiritual 
matters  to  the  ordinaries  only.  And  the  Jansenist  bi,shop 
of  Pistoia  and  Prato,  Scipio  de'  Ricci,  upon  entering  on 
bis  diocese  in  1780,  at  once  began  to  inquire  into  the 
scandals  which  raged  in  the  Dominican  nunneries  of  his 
jurisdiction,  especially  in  Pistoia,'  the  result  being  that  he 
excommunicated  the  Dominican  friars,  and  prohibited 
them  from  officiating.  The  pope  at  that  time  was  Pius 
VL,  an  ardent  devotee,  warmly  in  favour  of  mona- 
chism  generally,  and  of  the  lately  suppressed  Jesuits  in 
particular,  so  that  he  took  up  the  cause  of  the  friars 
(though  their  evil  rejmte  Lad  prevailed  for  150  years), 
and  issued  a  brief  of  censure  against  Ricci.  He  laid 
it  before  the  grand-duke,  -who  wrote  a  strong  remon- 
strance, accompanied  with  proofs  furnished  by  Ricci,  and 
informed  the  pope  that  unless  the  brief  were  promptly 
withdrawn,  and  the  convents  obliged  to  submit  to 
the  ordinary's  jurisdiction,  he  would  hi.uself  reform  at 
bis  own  discretion  every  religious  hou.se  in  Tuscany. 
Accordingly,  thg  brief  was  retracted,  and  Ricci  was  given 
full  liberty  to  repress  the  disorders  complained  of.  There 
is  not  any  similar  evidence  forthcoming  as  to  the  condition 


'  As  to  which  documentarv  evidence  will  bo  found  in  the  Appendij 
loDe  Potter's  Life  o/ Scipio  de'  Ricci. 


of  the  mona.steries  in  other  parts  of  Italy;  but  Tuscany  is 
likely,  from  local  cause.s,  to  have  been  above,  rather  than 
below,  the  average  moral  level.  Against  this  general 
tendency  to  monastic  decay  may  be  set  the  foundation  of 
the  Passionists  in  1725,  and  of  the  Redemptf,ri.st3  or 
Liguorians  in  1732;  but  the.se  two  institutes,  though  piou-s 
and  respectaVjIe,  have  never  exerted  much  influence. 

There  is  little  to  chronicle  in  regard  to  the  later  annals 
of  monachism  in  Spain  and  Portugah  Peter  of  Alcantara, 
as  reformer  of  the  Franciscans  of  the  latter  country  in 
the  middle  of  the  ICth  century,  and  his  more  famous 
contemporary,  Teresa,  as  reformer  of  the  Carmelites  in 
Spain,  are  eminent  figures  in  the  annals  of  their  time;  but 
they  cannot  be  said  to  have  produced  any  permanent 
effect  on  the  fortunes  and  tone  of  their  several  institutes, 
far  less  upon  the  common  life  in  general.  The  stamping 
out  of  all  varieties  of  opinion,  at  any  rate  in  respect  of 
outward  expression,  by  the  Inquisition  in  the  Peninsula 
makes  the  evidence  scanty  and  vague;  but  the  fact  that 
Portugal  took  the  lead  in  1759  in  striking  at  the  Jesuit.?, 
then  the  most  eminent  and  powerful  of  the  orders,  thou"h 
far  surpassed  in  mere  wealth  and  numbers  throughout 
Western  Europe  by  the  Franciscans,  and  that  its  jiolicy  in 
this  respect  was  quickly  followed  by  Sjiain,  attests  the 
growth  of  a  hostile  feeling  by  no  means  likely  to  have 
been  limited  to  the  great  company.  In  fact,  if  popular 
rhymes  and  proverbs  may  be  trusted,  the  charges  current 
against  the  religious  orders  in  Sjiain  do  ^ot  seem  to  have 
differed  from  those  alleged  elsewhere,  whatever  may  have 
been  the  amount  of  truth  in  them.  And  the  testimony  of 
Blanco  White,  always  to  be  trusted  on  matters  within  hxi 
experience,  is  decidedly  adverse. 

The  terrible  crash  of  the  French  Revolution,  which 
affected,  directly  or  indirectly,  every  country  in  Europe, 
was  not  least  influential  in  its  incidence  on  monachism. 
On  the  one  hand,  the  actual  destruction  which  it  brought 
u]jon  the  religious  houses  of  France  was  adopted  as  part  of 
the  revolutionary  programme  in  all  countries  where  such 
institutions  were  still  intact ;  and,  on  the  other,  there  was  a 
considerable  measure  of  improvement  brought  a'oout  in 
not  a  few  places  by  the  fear  of  public  opinion,  while  the 
new  institutes  which  continued  to  spring  up  were  all  but 
invariably  active,  both  founders  and  the  sanctioning 
authorities  recognizing  that  any  society  seeking  to  make 
its  footing  good  must  needs  first  prove  its  caiiacity  for 
practical  usefulness.  In  France  itself  the  laws  which 
abolished  all  religious  communities  were  relaxed  by  con- 
nivance in  favour  of  the  Sisters  of  Charity  even  under 
the  Terror  and  the  Directory;  while  in  1801  a  decree  of 
the  Consular  Government,  issued  by  the  Minister  of  the 
Interior,  authorized  Citizeness  Dukau,  former  superior  of 
that  society,  to  revive  it  by  taking  young  women  to  train 
for  hosjjital  work ;  and  various  other  active  communities 
were  restored  by  ^Napoleon  in  1807.  Further  revivals 
took  place  at  the  F.c  .(oration,  the  most  celebrated  of 
which  was  the  Dominican,  owing  to  the  talents  and  elo- 
quence of  Lacordaira  and  the  group  he  gathered  rcund 
him;  but  Benedictine.?,  Carthusian.s,  Trapj.ists,  and  olher 
societies  of  the  older  typo  were  not  slow  to  avail  them- 
selves of  the  opportunity  to  return  and  to  found  anew, 
amidst  a  poverty  which  recalls  the  original  institution, 
their  abbeys  and  priories.  But  they  met  with  little  favour 
under  the  Orlcanist  monarchy,  and  the  Second  Empire  was 
their  time  of  most  security  and  jirogress.  Since  its  fall, 
they  have  again  been  actively  discouraged  by  a  strong 
party  in  the  Republic  and  their  po.sition  remains  j'rc- 
carious.  France  has  bopa  further,  the  chief  seat  of  the 
many  new  societies  founded  for  some  especial  department 
of  charitable  work,  the  most  characteristic  example  of 
which  is  perhaps  that  of  the  Little  Sisters  of  the  Poor, 


iVI  O  N  A  C  H  -I  a  M 


715 


•vho  nouse  ana  tenu  aged  invalids.  As  a  broad  ge  leial 
rule,  nearly  every  pott-]leformation  institute  is  styled,  not 
an  "Order,"  but  a  "Congregation";  but  the  only  dis- 
dnction  which  can  be  drawn  between  these  two  names 
is  that  "order"  is  the  wider,  and  may  include  several 
congregations  \vithin  itself  (as  the  Benedictine  order, 
for  example,  includes  the  congregations  of  Cluny  and 
of  St  Maur),  while  a  "congregation"  is  a  simple  unit, 
complete  in  itself,  and  neither  dependent  on  another 
institute  nor  possci.sed  of  dependent  varieties  of  its  own. 
Another  distinction  drawn  between  the  elder  and  younger 
societies  is  that  the  former  are  said  to  make  "solemn 
vows,"  the  latter  only  "simple  vows."  The  difference 
here  is  not  in  the  matter  of  the  vows,  which  are  usually 
the  same  in  all  cases,  nor  even  in  the  ceremonies  attending 
their  utterance,  which  may  also  be  alike,  but  in  the 
superior  binding  efficacy  of  the  solemn  vows  in  Roman 
canon  law,  which  rules  that  they  so  bind  the  member  to 
his  society,  and  the  society  to  each  member,  that  neither 
can  sever  the  connexion,  so  that  only  the  pope  can  dissolve 
it,  and  that  in  rare  and  exceptional  cases  alone.  And  it 
may  be  added  that  the  term  "religious"  is  restricted  in 
the  Latin  Church  to  communities  whose  institute  has  been 
formally  approved  by  the  Roman  see,  and  whose  vows 
are  for  life,  and  not  merely  renewable, — a  principle  which 
excludes  the  Sisters  of  Charity,  for  example,  from  the  use 
of  this  title.  By  the  laws  of  France,  and  of  some  other 
countries,  life-vows  are  invalid  and  even  prohibited,  but 
when  they  make  part  of  the  original  institute,  such  dis- 
approval by  the  civil  power  is  not  held  to  reduce  them  to 
the  canonical  level  of  temporary  vows. 

Returning  to  the  history  of  Western  monachism,  the 
fall  of  the  religious  houses  in  Spain  dates  from  the  law  of 
21st  June  1835,  which  suppressed  nine  hundred  monasteries 
at  a  blow;  and  the  remainder  had  but  a  short  respite,  as 
they  were  dissolved  on  11th  October  of  the  same  year.  In 
Portugal,  where  a  bias  against  the  Roman  Curia  has  been  a 
traditional  part  of  patriotism  ever  since  the  revolution  of 
1640,  when  the  pope  sided  with  Spain  against  the  house 
of  Braganza,  there  v.-as  little  feeling  to  protect  the 
monasteries  when  it  happened  that  the  cro\vn  wanted 
their  possessions,  and  they  were  all  suppressed  by  the 
decree  of  28th  May  1834.  No  European  country  had  so 
many  religious  houses  as  Portugal  in  proportion  to  its 
population  and  area,  and  the  number  of  the  foundations 
dissolved  in  1834  exceeded  500.  In  Switzerland,  a  con- 
siderable measure  of  suppression  followed  the  war  of  the 
Sondcrbund  in  1847  ;  while  in  Italy,  the  last  country 
where  monachism  had  remained  almost  unmolested,  an  Act 
was  passed  in  the  Sardinian  Parliament  on  7th  July  186G 
for  the  suppression  of  monasteries  within  the  Piedmontese 
ilominions,  and  for  the  confiscation  of  their  properly. 
The  measure  was  extended  to  the  whole  of  Italy  after  the 
unification  of  the  kingdom  ;  the  orders  were  expropriated 
in  1873  ;  their  bouses  were  declared  national  property,  and 
were   put  to  secular  tises,  no  exception  being  made  in 


favour  of  San  JIarco  at  Florence,  ui   Assisi.  ot  Vallom: 
brosa,  or  even  of  Monte  Cassino  itself.^ 

On  the  other  hand,  several  Roman  Catholic  societies' 
have  attained  considerable  success  in  the  United  States 
and  Canada,  thus  in  some  degree  recovering  for  the 
principle  they  represent  part  at  least  of  the  ground  lost  in 
Europe  ;  while  in  three  religious  communions  outside  the 
pale  of  the  Latin  obedience — the  Evangelicals  of  Germany, 
the  Reformed  of  France,  and  the  Church  of  England — the 
organization  of  women  for  charitable  and  religious  work 
on  the  lines  of  various  old  institutes  has  been  actively 
carried  out.  The  Deaconesses  of  K.aiserswerth,  founded 
by  Pastor  Fliedner  in  1836,  derive  part  of  their  rule,  and 
even  of  their  dress,  from  the  Dames  de  St  Augustine, 
themselves  lineal  descendants  of  the  first  Hospitallers  of 
the  crusades,  and  have  ramified  into  several  countries ; 
the  Strasburg  and  Miihlhausen  Deaconesses  derive  theirs 
partly  from  the  Flemish  Beguines  and  partly  from  some 
points  in  the  Moravian  organization,  itself  handed  d^ivn 
from  those  seceding  Franciscans  to  whom  the  Uniias 
Fratrum  really  owes  its  origin ;  while  the  various  Ajiglican 
communities,  of  which  there  are  several,  have  borrowed 
freely  from  different  sources,  according  to  the  preference 
and  knowledge  of  each  founder.  Some  attempts  at 
reviving  the  common  life  for  men  also  have  likewise  been 
made,  but  none  on  any  large  scale ;  only  one  has  as  yet 
exhibited  any  signs  of  vitality,  a  preaching  ord«r  at 
Cowley,  near  Oxford,  which  has  obtained  some  footing  in 
England,  and  has  even  been  able  to  spread  to  America. 

bibliography. — The  bibliography  of  Jtonachism  is  excessively 
copious,  and  it  is  impracticable  to  indicate  more  than  a  few  of  the 
most  important  and  trustworthy  books.  General: — Hospiuianus, 
Dc  Monachis  LihH  Sex  (Geneva,  1659),  bitterly  hostile,  but  a  copious 
and  trustworthy  record  of  facts  ;  Helyot,  Hisloire  dcs  Ordrcs  Iteli- 
gieux  (8- vols.,  Taris,  171'i-1721),  and  again  (as  Diclionnain  dcs 
Ordres  Rcligicux),  with  continuation  by  Badiche  (4  vols.,  Paris, 
Jligne,  1860), — this  book  has  itself  a  copious  catalogue  of  works 
on  its  subject  prefixed  ;  Alteserra,  AsccticOn,  sivc  Origimtvi  I^ci 
Mona^iicea  Libri  Decern  (Paris,  1674) ;  Holstenius,  Codex  Hc'jularum 
(3  vols.,  Rome,  1661);  Slontalembert,  Moines  d' Occidtnt  (7  vols., Paris, 
1860-1877)  ;  Dugdale,  Monasticon  Anglicanum  (edited  by  Caley, 
Ellis,  and  Bandinel,  8  vols.,  London,  1846) ;  Rosweyde,  Vilm  Patrum 
(Lyons,  1617).  .Special  :^— Benedictines — llabillon,  Aeta  SS.  Ordi- 
nis  S.  Bcncdidi  (9  vols.,  Venice,  1733) ;  Cluniacs— Harrier,  Biblio- 
Iheca  Cluniacensis, (Paris,  1614);  Cistercians — Gaillardin,  Les  I'rap- 
pisks  (Paris,  1844) ;  Besoigne,  Hisloire  de  V Ahhaije  de  Porl-Hoyal 
(8  vols.,  Cologne,  1752-56);  Dominicans — Touron,  Sislcire  dcs 
Horiivies  Illusires  dc  VOrdre  dc  Saint  Dominique  (6  vols.,  Paris, 
1743-49)  ;  Franciscans— Sedulius,  Hisloria,  ScrajMca  (Antwerp, 
1613) ;  Wadding,  Annates  Uinorum  (20  vols.,  Kome,  1731-94). 

(R.  F.  L.) 


*  The  total  number  of  monasteries,  &c.,  suppressed  in  Italy  down  to 
the  close  of  1882  was  2255,  involving  an  enormous  displacement  of 
property  and  dispersion  of  inmates.  And  yet  there  is  some  reason  to 
think  that  the  state  did  but  do  roughly  and  harshly  what  the  church 
should  have  done  more  gradually  aud  wisely  ;  for  the  judgment  passed 
on  the  dissolution  by  Pius  IX.  himself,  in  speaking  to  an  English 
Roman  Catholic  bishop,  was  :  "It  was  the  devil's  work ;  but  the  good 
God  will  turn  it  into  a  blessing,  since  their  destruction  was  the  only 
reform  possible  to  them."  (Cited  by  Rev;  R.  R.  Suffield  in  Modem 
JUview,  voL  iL  p.  359,  April  1881.) 


Chkonological  Table  of  Monastic  FotnrDATioNS. 
The  religious  communities  which  have  been  formed  at  various  times  in  the  Western  Church  amount  to  many  hundreds,  and  receive  frcsli 
accessiona  almost  yearly,  while  some  among  them  have  been  suppressed,  absorbed,  or  suffered  to  die  out.  No  oBicial  list  of  those  actually 
in  existence  and  recognized  by  authority  is  published  ;  it  is  thus  impracticable  to  enumerate  them  accurately,  especially  as  many  of 
them  are  only  local  varieties  or  branches  of  iden  tical  rules  and  institutes,  aud  there  are  not  a  few  cases  where  a  once  celebrated  and  powerful 
order  has  practically  disappeared  from  view,  though,  as  still  lingering  in  one  or  two  houses,  not  definitely  extinct.  The  following  table, 
however,  gives  the  more  remarkable  foundations  in  chronological  order,  some  of  the  earlier  dates  being  only  approximate,  and  even  a  few 
later  ones  uncertiin,  for  the  historians  oftei.  vary  as  to  the  exact  year,  sometimes  giving  that  of  the  first  attempt  at  oiganization,  and 
sometimes  that  of  the  final  approval  by  authority. 


Date. 

Name. 

Founrlcr.            1          Place. 

Date. 

Name. 

Founder. 

Place. 

250 
320 

Monka  of  the  niebaid    

Paul  the  Hermit    1  Upper  Egypt. 

Pachomius  1  Tnhenure,  in  the 

Nile. 
Basil  the  Great j  Mataza,  Pontus. 

395 
400 

Aastin  Canons  (original)  . . 

Accemeti,      or  -   BleeplesB 
Monks 

A    tnicifnft 

Hippo     Regius, 

Africa. 
Mesopotamia. 

716 


MONACHliSM 


Date. 

Name. 

Founder. 

Place. 

Date. 

Name. 

Founder. 

Pla«.           j 

420 

529 

540-6V0 
663 
600 
641 

?C0 

910 
1012 
10S9 

losim 

1074 
10S4 

loss 

KBS 

iioom 

llOO 
1104 

1118 

nioa) 
iico 

U40 

1143 

115i) 

1156 

115S 
1102 
1170 

1179 

1191 

1196(7) 

1197 

1193 

1200(?) 

1203 
1209 

1212 
1212 

1214 

1214(?) 

1215 

1213 

1218 

12ai 
1223 
1231 
1211 
1251 

1271 

1290 

1298 

1313 

1S50(?) 

1355 

1363 

1366 
130S<?) 

1373 

1S73-77 

1376 

1380 

1390(7) 

l;i05 

1403 

1408 

1425 
14.9 

Honoratus  of  Arlea  . 

Benedict  of  Nursia**? 

Dubric,  Illtut,  David 

Columba  

Colurabanus    

Itubcrga,  wife  of  Pip- 
pin of  Landen 

I.     of     Lerins, 

•France. 

Monte    Cassino, 
lUly. 

Wales. 

lona,  Scotland. 

Anegray,  France. 

Nivelles,      Flan- 
ders. 

Metz. 

Cluny,  France. 

CamaldoU,  Italy. 

Vallombrosa, 
Tuscany. 

Avignon  CO- 

Mount      aioret, 
Limoges. 

Near  Grenoble. 

Vienne,        Dau- 
phine. 

Molesme,      Bur- 
gundy. 

Jerusalem  (7). 

Fontevraud,  Poi- 
tiers. 

Jerusalem. 

Jerusalem. 

Jerusalem. 
Pr^raontT6,     Pi- 

cardy. 
La  Trappe, 

France. 
Sempringhsm, 

Lincolnshire. 
St  Julian, Ciudad 

Rodrigo. 
Pesoara,  Italy. 

Calatrava,  Spain, 
Evora,  Portugal. 
CompostcUa, 
Gaiicia. 

Liege. 

Acre,  SjTie- 
Milan. 
Meaux,  Paris. 

MontpelUer, 

France. 
Germany. 

Assisl. 

Mount    Carrael, 
Palestine. 

Assisi.  Italy. 

ChaumoniT 
France. 

Clair-Lieu,    Bel- 
gium. 

Cesena,  Italy. 

Bologna.  ' 

Buda-Pesth, 

Barcelona. 

Assisi. 
Florence. 
Osimo,  Italy. 
Mantua. 
Morseilies. 

Sulmona,  Italy, 

France  and  Flan- 
ders. 
Paris. 

Siena  (?),  Italy. 

Aix-la-ChapelIe<?) 
Siena. 
Wadstcna, 
Sweden. 

Bruliano,  Italy. 

Villaescuda, 

Caatile. 
Pisa. 

Deventer, 

Holland. 
Piesole,  Italy. 

Toledo. 
Home. 
Padua. 

niceto,  Siena. 

Xear  Toledo. 
AbhpyofStMat- 
thics,  Treves. 

1431 

1433(7) 

'1433 
1435 

1443 

1414 

■  1453 
14S4 

1493 
1503 
1524 

1525 

1531 

1602 

1533 

1531 

1537 
1533 
1551(?) 

1553 
1568 
1571 

1577 

1578 
1579 
1584 

1588 
15S8 

1594 

1595 

1596 

1608 

1609 

1610 

1611 
1611 
1615 

1617 

iei7 

1018 
1621 

1624 

1624 
1624 

1625 
1629 

1633 

1639 

l&iO 

1641 
1641 

1643 
1643 
16-i5 
1050 

1653 

.lO^ 

1660 

1661 
1063 
1673 

1670 

1034 
1680 

Mitigated    Carmelites,    or 

"BiUettes" 
Congregation  of  St  Ambrose 

ad  Nemua 

Pope  EugenlUfl  IV.    . . 
(?)   

Rome  (?). 

Benedictines,      or     Black 
Monks 

Frances  of  Rome   

Francis  de  Paola   . . . . 

Nicolas   Rclin,  chan- 
cellor of  Burgundy 
Grsgorio  Rocclii 

Bishop  de  Boppart    . . 
Pope  Innocent  VIIL' 

Jean  Tisscrand  

Queen  Jeanncdc  Valois 

Giovanni    Pietro    Ca- 

r?.fld(Pop£'PaulIV.) 

Matteo  di  Bassi 

GirolamoEmiliani 

(1)   r- 

Giacopo  Antonio  Mo- 

rigia 
Ignatius  Loyola 

Angela  de'  Merici 

John  of  God    

An       Englishwoman, 

named  Ward 
Philip  Neri 

Mintms,  or  Hermits  of  St 

Francis 
Daughters    of    St    Martha 

(Hospitallers) 
Augustins  of  the  Lombard 

Congregation 

Monka  of  LuseuU    

Nuns  (later  Canonesses)  of 
Nivelies 

Beaune,  Prance. 

Benedictines  of  Cltmy   

Order  of  CamaldoU 

Order  of  VallombroM 

Austin  or  Black  Canons    . . 
Order  of  Gi-ammont    

Metz.  ; 

John  Gualbert    

Bamabites,  or  Clerks  Regu- 
lar 

Rome. 

Bourges,  Fnuic«v 

Bru::      

Capu';hin3,    or    Reformed 

Clerks-itegular  of  St  Ma- 
jolus  of  Pavia,  or  "So- 
maschi " 

Recollects,  or  Strict  Fran- 
ciscans 

Bamabiu's  of  St  Paul    

Italy. 

Order    of    3t  .AJithonv  of 

Vienna 

Pisa.' 

Pobsrt 

Pavia. 

Crucireri  ^suppressed,  1,658) 
Order  of  Fontevraud 

Knights  Hospitallers  of  St 
JoLm 

TBmplai-3    (sappres'jecl     in 

1S13> 

Knighta  of  St  Laaarua    

Canons    Rcgtuir    of    Pie- 

montrd 

Robert  d'^Vrbrissel 

Gerard  (Raymond  du 
piiy,     first     Grand 
Master) 

Hugh  de  Payens    

C?)  ...- 

Norbert     >..... 

Rotrou  II.,  count  of 

Perche 
Gilbert  of  Sempring- 

ham 
Suero,  and  Gomez,  de 

Barrientos 
William  dc  Malavol  . . 

SnnchoIII.,  of  Castile 
Alfonso  I.,  of  Portugal 
Ferdinand  II.,  of  Leon 

Bega,  or  Lambert  le 

B^guo 
HeiiiTich  Walpot   

Spain  (?). 
Milan. 

Paris. 
Brescia,  Italy. 
Granada. 
Flanders. 

Brothers  of  Charity    

Jesuitesses      (suppressed. 
1631) 

Discalced  Carmelites 

Fathei-s  of  Christian  Doc- 
trine 

A  Vila.  Spain. 

Pope  Pins  V 

Jean  de  la  Barrii-re  . . 

Carlo  Borromeo 

Pope  Gregory  XIH.".. 
Camillc  de*  LeUi    .... 

Agostino  Adorno   .... 
Thomas       d'Aiidrada 

(Thomas  de  Jesus) 
Vincent  Blussitrt    

Juan  Baptista  Garcias 

Madeleine      d'Escou- 

bleau  de  Sourdia 
Jean  Michaelis   

Knights  of  Alcantara 

Hennit9  of  St  William,  or 

White-Mantlea 

Knights  of  Calatrara 

Knights  of  St  Bennetof  Aviz 
Knights  of  Santiago  cf  the 

Sword 

Oblates  of  St  Ambrose 

Latin  Monks  of  St  Basil    . . 
Clerks  Regular,  Ministers 
of  the  Sick 

France. 
MUan. 
Rome. 
Rome. 

Discalced  Aogustinians . . 

Conjjrcgation  of  Picpos 

Discalced  Trinitarians   .. .. 
Notre  Dame  de  St  Paul . . . 
Jacobins,  or  Reformed  Do- 
English  Institute  of  B.  V. 

Mary 
Nuns  of  the  Visitation  

French  Ursulines    

French  Oratorians 

Canons      Regular     of     St 

Saviour 
Hospitaller    Nuns    of    St 

Charles 
Pauline    Congregation    of 

the  Mother  of  God 

Talavera. 

Teutonic  Knights    

Hiimiliati  (suppressed,  1570) 

Franconville-      , 
sous-bois.  Parte. 
Vul    de    FeBu« 

John  do  Matha   and 

Fe'.ixvde  Valois  

Guy  of  Montpellier  . . 

Spain. 

Knights  Hospitallers  of  the 
Holy  Spirit 

Penitents  of  St  Mary  Mag- 
dalene 

St  Paul,  Praace. 
Paris. 

Francis  Bomardone  . . 
Albert,   titular  patri- 
arch of  Jerusalem 

Francis  and  Clara 

William  cf  Paris    

Theodore  da  Celles    . . 

Giovanni  Bono   

Dominic  Guzman   .... 
Eusebius,  archbp.    of 

Strlgonia 
Jayme  I.,  of  Aragon.. 

Jeanne  Fran<;oi3e  de 

Chautal 

Marie  Lhuillier 

Cardinal  de  BeruUe  . . 
Fourrier    de    Matain- 

court 

Joseph  Calasanza 

Antoinette  d'Orlcans 
Didierdc  la  Cour 

Simonc     Gauguin   ' 
(Mother  Frances  of 
the  Cross) 

Vincent  de  Paul 

Marie     Elizabeth    de 
RjiTifain 

Nuns  of  St  Clare 

Onler  of  Val-des-Ecoliers  . . 

Canoas  Regular  of  the  Holy 

Cross 
Hermits  of  St  Augustine  .. 

Paris. 
Paris. 
Lorraine- 
Nancy. 
Rome, 

Hermits  of  St  Paul 

Order  of  St  Mary  of  Merey, 

or  Mercedarians 
Franciscan  TertiarJes 

Poitiers. 

Congregation    of    Benedic- 
tines of  St  Mftur 

Hospitaller    Nuns    of   the 
Charity  of  Our  Lady  .... 

Lftzarists    

Nuns  of  Our  Lady  of  Refuge 

Religieusea  de  la  Croix 

Verdun,  Ftanoe. 
Paris. 

Buonfiglio  Monaldi   . . 
Sylvester  de'  Gozzolint 

Alberto  Spinola 

Innocent  IV 

Pictro  Moi-one  (Pope 
Celestine  V.) 

Canons  Ketnilar  of  St  Mark 
Austin   Brothers  of  Peni- 

Paris.  > 
Nancy. 

Grey  Sisters, (Hospitallers) 

HoBpiUller^  of  the  Chaiity 
of  our  Ludy 

Vincent  de  Paul  and 

Louise  Legras 
Antoine"   YA'an     and 

Madeleine  Martin 
Antoine  Lequien    

Bartholomew      Holi- 

h.iuscr 
Madeleine  Limy    

Paris. 

Guy  de  Jolnvflle    

Bernardo  Tolomel  of 

Sieua 
(?)    

Ail,  Proyence.  \ 

Sisters  of  the  Blessed  Sacra- 
ment 
Bartholomites.    or    Clerks 
Secular  of  Common  Life 
Kuns  of  the  Good  Shepherd 
Order  of  Our  Lady  of  Char- 
ity and  Kelugo 
Kudist:-,,  or  Mi^ibicn  Priests 
DftUi^lit^rs  of  Providence  . . 

Marseilles. 

CcUitea,  or  Alexlan  Brothers 

Salzburg. 

Giovanni  Oolombini ., 
Bridget  of  Sweden 

Bridget  of  Sweden 

Paoletto  de  Foligno  . . 

Pedro  Fcrrando  Pecha 
do  Guadalajara 

Pietro  Gambacorti  or 
Gambacurts 

Gerard  Qroot 

Carlo  de  Montograneli 

Maria  Garcias  .,.,*.... 
Bartolommco  Colon  na 
Ludovico  Barbo 

Stephen  Ciooi  of  Siena 

Martin  Vaam 

Joliann  Rodius  

Caen,  Franca.  -^ 

Eri^ittino  Nuns,  or  Order 

of  St  Saviour 

Brigittine  Knights 

0>)ijcrvants,  or  Franciscans 

of  the  Strict  Observance 
IlioTonymitc  Monks   

Hermits  of  St  Jerome    

Brothers  of  Common  Life. . 

Fcsnlan  Mendicants   of  St 

Jerome  (suppressed,  1008) 

Hieronymlte  Nuns  . . ; 

Con/fregation  ofthc  Late  ran 
C  >ngregation  of  St  Juatina, 

r.r     iieform     of     Moute 

Cassino 
Canons     Regular     of     St 

Saviour 

Often. 

Madame  de  Polalllon 
J»an  Jacques  Olier    ., 
Henri      ilaupas      du 

Tour 
Catherine     do     hunt- 

(Mcchtildo    du    St- 

Pierre  de  Bdtaucoart 

Ange  Le  Proust 

PireVachct 

Armand  do  RancA 

Nicolas  Barr6 

Madame  Morel   

Marie  Poussopin    

Mndnmrde  Maintcnon 
and  Louis  XIV. 

Paris. 

Sisters  of  St  Joseph    

Benedictine   Nuns  of  Per- 
petual Adoration 

LePuyenVelay,^ 

France. 
Paris. 

Hospitaller    Nuns    of    St 
Thomas  of  VillaJlova 

Union  Chnitlenno    

Reformed  Trappista    

Brothers  and  Sisters  of  the 
Child  Jesns 

Daughters  of  Providence  . . 

Sisters  of  the  Presentation 

Aiiieric*. 
Laiiiballe, 

France. 
Charotine,  Paris. 
La  Trappe. 
Paris. 

Ctnrlevllle, 

Franco. 
SainvilJc,  Franc*. 

Order  of  Bursfeld,  or  Ger- 
man Benudictiac  Reform 

M  O  N  — M  0  N 


717 


ratn. 

Name.                   1            Foaoder. 

Place. 

Date. 

Name.                                Foundei. 

Plate. 

1680 

Daughters    of    the    Good 
Shepherd 

Madame  de  Combe    . . 

Paris. 

1842 

Deaconesses    of    St    Loup 
(Swiss  Refd.) 

M.  Germond    

Echellenc, 

1704 

Sisters  of  Charity  of  St  Paid 
the  Apostle 

Louis  Chanvet    

Lev6vlUe-U-Che- 
nard,  Prance. 

1848 

Notro  Dame  de  Sion  

PP.  Theodore  and  M. 
A.  Ratisbonne 

Paris. 

1712 

congregation  of  the  Good 

Saviour 
Religious  of  Most  Blessed 

Elizabeth  de  SurviUe 

St  -  Lo,         Nor- 
mandy. 
Bousseauz-le- 

1846 

Society  of  the  Holy  Child 

Jesus 
Society  of  Holy  Trinity  of 

Devonport  (Angl.) 

Cornelia  Connelly 

Derby,  England. 

1718 

P6ro  VIgne     

1847. 

Priscilla  Lvdia  Sellon 

Plymouth. 

Sacrament 

Roy,  France. 

1716 

Daughters  of  Wifidom    

Marie  Louise  Trichet 
and      Grignon      de 

U  RocheUe. 

1848 

Siatera  of  the  Poor  Child 
Jesus 

Clara  Fey     

Aii-la-Chfipdle. 

Montfort 

1840 

Poor  Handmaids  of  Jesus 

Katharina  Ka<ip&r . .   . 

Deimbach,  Ger- 

1725 
1732 

Paaaloniats    

Panl  of  the  Cross  

Alfonso  de'  liguori  .. 

Rome. 
Scala,  Italy. 

1849 

Christ 
Bisters    of    St    Mary    the 

Miss  Lockhart     

many. 
Wantage,  Berks. 

Redcmptorlsts,    or    Ligu- 

orlans 

Virgin  (Angl.) 

1786 

Society    of   the    ClirlstJan 

Antoine      Sylveotre 

Fontenellea, 

1860 

SUters  of  the   Most  Holy 

F.  Gaudentiua    

Manchester. 

Retreat 

Receveur 

France. 

Cross  and  Passion 

1800 

Ladles  of  the  Sacred  Heart 

Madame  Barat    

Amiena. 

1851 

Sisters  of  Nazareth 

Cardinal  Wiseman 

Hammersmith, 

1801 

Dames  de  St  Andri    

Seraphine  Hauvarlet 

Toumay,      Bel- 

I-oudou, 

gium. 

1851 

Sisterhood    of   All    Saints 

Rev.      W.      Upton 

London. 

1815 
1815 

Mariat  Fathers 

Jean  C.  M.  CkjUh    .... 
M.  de  Mazenod  

^^ 

1853 

(Angl.) 
French  Oratorians  (revived) 

Richard* 
Abb6  Pfitctot 

Paris. 

Obbtes  of  Mary  Imnuca- 

18l« 

Ute 
Sisters  of  Jesaa  and  Mai;y. . 

P6re  Coludie   

Fourvlires, 

1862 

Deaconesses     of     Riehen 
(Swiss  Refd.) 

M.  Spittler 

near  Basel. 

Lyons. 

1864 

Society  of  St  John  Baptist 

Hon.     Mrs,     Charles 

Clewer,Wiu'l6oi. 

181T 

Marlst  Brothera  

Abbe  Champagiiat    . . 

Lyoas. 

(Angl.) 

Monsell 

1620 

Sisters  of  Notre  Damo   

Julie  Eilliart  

Amiens. 

1855 

Nursing  Sisters  of  St  Mar- 

Dr John  Mason  Neale 

East   Gi  instead, 

1820 

Sceurs  de  TEsp^rance 

Brothers  of  Christian  In- 

Abb6Noaines  

Bordeaux. 

garet  (Angl.) 

BoBsei. 

1822 

Abb^  Lamennals    . .    . 

St  Brieuc,  France 

1856 

Helpers  of  the  Holv  Souls 
Deaconesses  (Angl.)  

Eugenie  Suret    

Paris. 

struction 

1861 

Rev.  T.  Pelham  Dale 

London. 

1832 

Faithful     Companions    of 
Jesus 

Madame  d'Houet  .... 

Amiens. 

and  Elizabeth  Cathp- 
rine  Ferard 

1822 

Society  of  Nazareth    

Pierre  Roger    

Slontmirall, 
Franco. 

1861 

Sisterhood    of    St    Peter 
(Angl.) 

Rosamira  Lancaster . . 

Brompton, 
London. 

1824 

Sisters  of  Bon  Secours   

Madame  de  M<5ntale  . . 

Paris. 

1861 

Congregation  of  the  Finding 

Mary  Lefevrc 

London  (now 

■    1824 

182T 
1828 

Marist  Sisters  

Jean  Claude  Colin 

Catherine  McAuley  .. 
Abbe  Debrabant    .... 

Belley,  France. 
Dublin. 
Doual,  Prance. 

1S&4 

of  Jesus  in  the  Temple 
Little  Sisters  of  tlic    As- 

Angnstinions  of   the 

Clifton  Wood, 
Bristol). 
Paris, 

Sisters  of  Mercy  

Jji  Sainte  Uniou  des  Sacrts 

Coeurs 

sumption 

Assumption 

1620 

Institute    of    Charity,    or 

Antonio  Eosmini-Ser- 

Monte  Calvario, 

1805 

Sisterhood    of    St     Mary 

Rev.  Dr  Morgan  Dix. . 

New  York. 

Roamintan  Fathers 

bati 

Italy. 

(Angl.) 
Mission  Priests  of  St  John 

1833 

School    SistetB    of    Notro 

Bishop  Michael  Wiss- 

Nuremberg 

1865 

Rev.  R.  M.  Benson  . . 

Co-wley  St  John, 

Dame 

mann 

Bavaria. 

the  Evangelist  (Angl.) 

Oxford, 

1833 

Daughters  of  the  Cross 

Canon  J.   G.    Habets 
and  Jeanne  Haze 

Li^ge. 

1866 

Servants     of     the     Sacred 
Heart  of  Jesus 

P.  Peter  Victor  Braun 

Paris. 

1836 

Deaconesses  (Lutheran)    . . 

Theodor  FUedner  .... 

Kaisers  werth, 

DOsseldorf. 

Bruges,  Belgium. 

1866 

Sister£i  of  Bethany  (Angl.) 

Etheldreda  A.  Benett 

Pentonville, 

London. 
New  York. 

1837 

Xaverlan  Brothers 

Theodore  Ryken    

1860 

Sisterhood    of    the    Good 

Bishop  Horatio  Potter 

1840 

Deaconesses    (FreDch    Re-    M.  Vei-meilaud  MdUe. 

Paris. 

Shepherd  (Angl.) 

formed)                                       Malvesin 

1870 

Sisters     of    the     Church 

Emily  AyckbowQ 

Kilbum,  London. 

I&IO 

Little  Sisters  of  the  Poor  . .    Abb6  le  PaiUeur 

St  Malo. 

(Angl.) 

1842 

Deaconesses  of    Strasburg  ,  Pastor  Harter 

(Luth.)                                  1 

Strasburg. 

1870 

Little  Company  of  Mary  . . 

MaryPotter 

Hyson       Green, 
NoHingham. 

MONACO  (French  Monegue),  the  smallest  of  the  soTe- 
reign  principalities  of  Europe,  with  an  area  of  8 '34  square 
miles,  a  population  (1878)  of  7049,  and  an  army  of  72 
men,  is  situated  on  the  coast  of  the  Mediterranean,  9  miles 
east  of  Nice,  and  bounded  on  all  sides  by  the  French 
department  of  the  Maritime  Alps.  Previous  to  1861, 
when  the  communes  of  Mentone  (Menton)  and  Roccabnina 
(Roquebrun)  were  sold  to  France  for  4,000,000  francs,  the 
area  was  about  a  third  larger ;  but  the  population,  which 
with  those  portions  again  included  would  now  be  15,000, 
was  only  about  8000.  Monaco  has  long  had  the  reputa- 
tion of  being  one  of  the  most  beautiful  and  sheltered 
spots  on  all  the  Franco-Italian  coast :  non  Coma  in  ilium 
Jus  hahet  aut  Zephyi-ua ;  solus  sua  littora  turbat  Circius, 
said  Lucan  ;  and  a  luxuriant  growth  of  aloes  and  prickly 
pears  (introduced  in  1537),  palm-trees,  eucalyptus,  lemon- 
trees,  and  geraniums  gives  a  warmer  colour  to  the  scene 
than  Lucan  can  have  known.  The  town  occupies  the  level 
sununit  of  a  rocky  headland,  rising  about  195  feet  from 
the  shore,  and  still  surrounded  with  ramparts.  Though 
largely  modernized,  the  palace  is  a  fine  specimen  of  Re- 
naissance architecture;  the  new  "cathedral"  (French  Re- 
naissance style),  the  new  church  of  St  Charles,  and  the 
museimi  may  also  be  mentioned.  Behind  the  rock,  between 
Mont  Tete  de  Chien  and  Mont  de  la  Justice,  the  high 
grounds  rise  towards  Turbie,  the  village  on  the  hill  which 
takes  its  name  from  the  tropsea  with  which  Augustus 
marked  the  boundary  between  Gaul  and  Italy.  On  the 
eastern  side  lies  the  little  port  or  bay  of  Monaco  ;  along 
the  lower  ground  at  the  head  of  the  bay  stretches  the  vil- 
lage of  Coudamine  with  orange-gardens,  manufactures  of 
perfumes  and  liqueurs,  and  the  chapel  of  Ste  Devote,  the 
patron  saint  of  Monaco  :  farther  to  the  east,  on  the  rocky 


slopes  of  the  Sp^lagues  (Speluncje)  are  grouped  the  various 
buildings  of  the  Casino  of  Monte  Carlo  and  the  numerous 
villas  and  hotels  which  it  has  called  into  existence.  Previous 
to  1828  the  Spelugues  were  mere  barren  rocks ;  but  after 


MONACO'*^:— -T^saartei. 


Plan  of  Monaco. 
they  were  traversed  by  the  new  road  to  Mentone,  Count  Eoy 
caused  them  to  be  covered  with  soil  by  Italian  convicts ; 
and  since  1858,  when  the  first  stone  of  the  Casino  was 
laid,  the  process  of  artificial  embellishment  has  been  carried 


718 


M  O  J^— i\i  O  iS 


out  on  the  most  magnificent  scale.  The  gaming  establish- 
ment is  now  in  the  hands  of  a  joint-stock  company  with  a 
capital  of  15,000,000  francs.  None  of  the  inhabitants  of 
Monaco  have  access  to  the  tables  ;  and  their  interest  in  the 
maintenance  of  the  status  quo  is  secured  by  their  complete 
exemption  from  taxation,  and  the  large  prices  paid  for 
their  lands.  GamMing-tables  were  set  up  at  Monaco  in 
1836;  but  it  was  not  till  1860,  when  M.  Blanc,  expelled 
from  Homburg,  took  possession  of  the  place,  that  Monte 
Cailo  began  to  be  famous. 

A  templo  of  Heracles  Moutecus  was  built  on  the  Monaco  head- 
land at  a  veiy  early  date,  probably  by  the  Greeks  of  Massilia. 
MoncBci  Poitus  or  Portus  Herculia  is  frequently  mentioned  by  the 
later  Latin  writers.  From  the  10th  century  the  place  was  associated 
with  the  Grimaldi,  a  poweiful  Genoese  familj  who  held  high  offices 
under  the  republic  and  the  emperors  ;  but  not  till  a  much  later 
date  did  it  become  their  permanenf.  possession  and  residence.  In 
the  bejinning  of  the  14th  century  it  was  notoi-ious  for  its  piracies. 
Charles  I.  (a  man  of  considerable  maik,  who,  ifter  doing  great  ser- 
vice bj  sea  and  land  to  'Philip  of  Valois  in  his  English  wars,  was 
severely  wounded  at  Ciecy)  purchased  Meutone  and  Roccabruca,  and 
bought  up  the  clainia  of  the  Spinola  to  llonaco.  The  princes  of 
Monaco  continued  true  to  France  tdl  1524,  when  Augustin  Grimaldi 
threw  iii  his  lot  with  Charles  V.  Houore  I.,  Augustin's  successor, 
was  made  marquis  of  Campagna  and  count  of  Canosa,  and  people 
as  well  r.s  lulers  were  accorded  vaiious  importaut  privileges.  The 
right  to  exact  toll  from  vessels  passing  the  port  coiitijiued  to  be 
exercised  till  the  close  of  the  18th  century.  Honore  II.,  who  re- 
newed the  alliance  with  France  iu  1G41,  was  compensated  for  the 
loss  of  Canosa,  &c.,  with  the  duchy  and  peerage  of  Valentinois  and 
various  lesser  lordshins  ;  and  duke  of  Valentinois  long  continued 
to  be  the  titlS  of  the  lieir-apparcnt  of  the  principality.  The  Na- 
tional Convention  annexed  the  principality  to  France  iu  1793  ; 
restored  to  the  Goyon  Grimaldis  by  the  Treaty  of  Paris  in  1814,  it 
w.a3  placed  by  that  of  Vienna  under  the  protection  of  Sardiuia. 
King  Albert  of  Sardinia  took  the  opportunity  of  disturbances  that 
occurred  in  1848  to  annex  ilentone  and  Roecabruna  ;  but  this 
liigh-handed  proceeding  was  condemned  by  the  protocol  of  1856, 
and  Charles  III.  (born  1818)  entered  upon  his  full  rights.  With 
the  transference  of  Nice  to  Fiance  in  1860  the  principality  passed 
again  under  French  protection. 

See  Charles  de  Venasque's.  Geiicaloglca  H  historica  Grimaldis  gerttis  arior 
frtally  the  work  of  HoDoie  11.). 

MONAGHAN,  an  inland  county  of  Ireland  in  the 
province  of  Ulster,  is  bounded  E.  by 'Armagh,  S.E.  by 
Louth,  S.  by  Meath,  S.W.  by  Cavan,  W.  by  Fermanagh, 
and  N.  by  Tyrone.  The  area  is  318,806  acres,  or  498  .sq. 
miles.  The  north-western  part  of  the  county  is  included 
in  the  great  central  plain  of  Ireland  ;  but  in  the  south-east 
there  is  an  uprising  of  .Lower  Silurian  rocks.  The  surface  is 
irregular,  although  none  of  the  hills  are  of  great  elevation. 
The  principal  range  is  that  of  Slievebeagh,  a  rugged  and 
barren  tract  extending  into  Fermanagh,  its  highest  summit 
being  1254  feet  above  sea-level.  Formerly  much  of  the 
country  was  under  forest,  but  it  is  now  very  bare  of  trees, 
except  in  the  many  demesnes  of  the  nobility  and  gentry. 
The  scenery  is  redeemed  from  monotony  by  the  large  num- 
ber of  small  lakes  and  streams.  The  lakes  number  in  all 
nearly  200.  The  principal  rivers  are  the  Finn,  which  rises 
near,  the  centre  of  the  county  and  passes  into  Fermanagh, 
and  the  Blackwater, which  forms  the  boundary  with  Tyrone. 
The  Ulster  Canal  passes  the  towns  of  ^Ionaghan  and 
Clones,  allbrding  communication  between  Lough  Neagh 
and  Lough  Erne.  Eskers  occur  at  several  places.  There 
are  seams  of  unworkable  coal  in  the  south-west  of  the 
county.  The  limestone  is  not  only  abundant  and  good, 
but  from  the  position  of  the  rocks  it  can  be  obtained  at 
very  small  expense  in  working.  Freestone  and  slates  are 
quarried  in  considerable  quantities.  The  other  minerals 
include  lead  ore,  antimony,  fuller's  earth,  marble,  and 
maaganese;  but  the  quantities  obtained  are  inconsiderable. 

CUmntc  ami  AgricuUnre. — Partly  owing  to  the  large  proportion 
of  bog  aud  water  the  climate  ia  somewhat  moist.  The  soil  iu  the 
more  level  portions  of  the  county  is  very  fertile  where  it  rests  on 
limestone,  and  there  is  also  a  mixed  soil  of  deep  clay,  which  is  capa- 
ble of  high  cultivation  ;  but  in  the  hilly  regions  a  strong  retentive 
tUy  prevails,  which  could  be  made  productive  only  by  careful  drain- 


ing and  culture.  Spade  husbandly  generally  prevails.  Tlie  most 
common  manure  is  a  compost  of  lime  and  burned  tutf  mould. 
Marl  is  abundant,  but  is  little  used,  and  gypsum  also  is  found. 

The  number  of  holdings  in  1881  was  17,849,  of  which  as  many  as 
10,784  did  not  e;:ceed  15  acres  in  extent,  and  2870  of  these  did  not 
exceed  5  acres  ;  6454  ranged  between  15  and  50  acies,  aud  only  24 
were  above  200  acres.  The  area  of  arable  laud  was  278,755  acres,  or 
87  per  cent,  of  the  whole,  while  6258  were  under  plantations,  'i^jSO 
bog  and  marsh,  5239  barren  mountain  land,  and  21,582  water,  roads, 
and  fences.  The  following  taVde  shows'the  aieas  under  the  differ- 
ent crops  in  1850  and  1882  :— 


1 

5,661 
1,228 

1          |l 

o     1  So 

80,946  1  7,467 
53,997  ;  1,665 

i 
s 
s 

& 

22,105 
21,321 

1        li 

7,190     2,543 
7,50-.>  ,  1,533 

^ 

s 

E5 

s 

1850 
1S82 

10,157    ll.?«n 
12,S48  1  31,450 

147,683 
131,134 

Horses  numbered  10,229  in  1872,  and  10,666  in  1882.  In  the 
same  years  mules  numbered  300  and  469,  and  asses  4314  and  3476. 
The  number  of  cattle  in  1872  was  81,333,  and  in  1882  only  72,266, 
au  average  of  25 '9  to  every  100  acres  under  cultivation,  the 
average  for  Ireland  being  25-8.  Sheep  between  1872  and  1832 
declined  from  17,964  to  U858,  a  very  inconsiderable  number;  pigs 
increased  from  26,008  to  29,972  ;  goats  from  8873  to  12,391 ;  aud 
poulti-y  from  341,874  to  434.260. 

According  to  the  latest  return,  the  land  was  divided  among  1470 
proprietors, who  possessed  311, 440acies, with  a  total  annual  value  of 
^261,382.  The  average  size  of  the  properties  was  211  acres,  and 
the  average  value  per  statute  acre  17  shillings.  The  following 
seven  proprietors  possessed  upwards  of  10,000  acres:  E.  P.Shirley, 
26,380  ;  marquis  of  Bath,  22,762  ;  carl  of  Dartrey,  17,345  ;  Lord 
Rossmore,  14,839  ;  Sir  John  Leslie,  13,621  ;  Viscount  Templeto^vn, 
12,845  ;  A.  A.  Hope,  11,700. 

Manu/aclurcs. — The  only  manufacture  of  consequence  is  nnen, 
which  of  late  years  has  been  on  the  increase.  The  number  of 
scutching  mills  iu  18S1  was  55,  of  which  45  were  WTOught  by 
water,  8  oy  steatn,  and  2  by  water  and  steam. 

Admi7iisiraiion. — The  county  includes  5  baionies,  23  parishes, 
and  1850  town  lands.  Assizes  are  held  at  JFonaghan,  and  quarter- 
sessions  at  Car  rick  macross,  Castleblayney,  Clones,  and  iMonaghan. 
There  are  8  petty  sessional  districts  within  the  county,  and  part  of 
another.  It  includes  the  poor-law  unions  of  Carrie kmacross  and 
Monaghan,  and  portions  of  Castleblayney,  Clogher,  Clones,  Coote- 
hill,  and  Dundalk.  It  is  in  the  Belfast  military  district,  sub- 
district  of  Armagh.  There  is  a  barrack  station  at  Monaghan.  Id 
the  Irish  parliament  two  members  were  returned  for  the  county 
and  two  for  the  town  of  llonaghan,  but  at  the  Union  Monaghan 
was  disfranchised. 

Fvpidaiiov.— The  population  in  1841  was  200,442;  but  in  1851 
it  had  diminished  to  141,823,  in  1871  to  114,969,  and  in  1881  to 
102,748,  of  whom  50,077  were  males  and  52,671  females.  At  the 
last  census  73  per  cent,  of  the  inhabitants  were  Rompn  Catholics, 
13  per  cent.  Episcopalians,  and  11  percent.  Presbyterians.  The 
number  of  emigrants  from  let  May  1851  to  Slst  December  1881  was 
56,408,  or  about  1840  persons  per  annum  ;  while  during  the  twenty 
-years  ending  31st  March  1881  the  annual  rate  of  emigration  was 
i3'8  per  1000  of  the  population.  The  death-rate  to  every  thousand 
of  the  population  for  the  ten  years  ending  1881  was  16*9,  the  birth- 
rate 23"  ■),  and  the  marriage-rate  3*6.  The  towns  possessing  more 
than  1000  inhabitants  are— Monaghan  3369,  Clones  2216,  Cariick- 
macross  2002,  Castleblayney  1610,  and  Ballyblay  1651.  Monaghan. 
the  county  town,  received  its  name  Muincchan  (the  town  of  monks) 
from  a  monastery  founded  there  at  a  very  early  period.  The  town  was 
incorporated  by  James  I.,  but  it  was  little  more  than  a  hamlet  till 
towards  the  close  of  last  century.  Besides  the  usual  county  buildings, 
it  contains  a  Roman  Catholic  college,  and  National  model  schools. 

History  and  Antiqriitics. — In  the  time  of  Ptolemy,  Monaghan 
formed  part  of  the  territory  of  the  Scoti.  Subsequently  included 
in  the  district  of  Oriel  or  Orgial,  and  long  known  as  i\Iacmahon*s 
country,  it  "became  shire  ground  in  the  reign  of  Elizabeth. 

The  antiquarian  remains  of  Monaghan  are  comparatively  unim- 
portant. At  Clones  there  is  a  round  towcr.in  good  presen-ation, 
but  very  rude  in  its  masonry  ;  another  at  Inniskeen  is  very 
dilapidated.  Near  Clones  there  are  two  large  raths.  Although 
there  are  several  old  Danish  forts,  there  are  no  niediiwal  castles  of 
importance.  The  only  monastic  structure  of  which  any  vestiges 
remain  is  the  abbey  of  Clones,  which  was  also  the  seat  of  a  bishopric. 
The  abbey  dates  from  the  6th  century,  but  was  rebuilt  in  the  14th 
century  after  destruction  by  fu'o.  On  the  site  of  the  Franciscan 
abbey  at  Monaghan  a  castle  was  erected,  which  was  in  a  ruinous 
condition  in  the  time  of  James  I. 

MONARCHIANISM,    in   its   teclinical   Christoiogical 

sense,  designates  the  view_ taken  by  those  Christians  who, 


M  O  K- 

-within  the  church,  towards  the  end  of  the  2d  century 
and  during  the  3d,  opposed  the  doctrine  of  a  hypostatic 
Logos  (hypostasianism)  or  of  an  independent  personal  sub- 
sistence of  the  Divine  Word.  It  is  usual  (and  convenient) 
to  speak  of  two  kinds  of  monarchianism, — the  dynamistic 
and  the  raodalistic.  By  monarchians  of  the  former  class 
Christ  was  held  to  be  a  mere  man,  miraculously  conceived 
indeed,  but  constituted  the  Son  of  God  simply  by  the  in- 
finitely high  degree  in  which  he  had  been  filled  with  Divine 
wisdom  and  power.  This  view  was  represented  in  Asia 
Minor  about  the  year  170  by  the  anti-Montanistic  Alogi, 
so  called  by  Epiphanius  on  account  of  their  rejection  of  the 
Fourth  Gospel ;  it  was  also  taught  at  Kome  about  the  end 
of  the  2d  century  by  Theodotus  of  Byzantium,  a  currier, 
who  was  excommunicated  by  Bishop  Victor,  and  at  a  later 
date  by  Artemon,  excommunicated  by  Zephyrinus.  About 
the  year  260  it  was  again  propounded  within  the  church 
by  Paul  of  Samosata  (q.v.),  who  held  that,  by  his  unique 
excellency,  the  man  Jesus  gradually  rose  to  the  Divine 
dignity,  so  as  to  be  worthy  of  the  name  of  God.  Modalistic 
monarchianism,  conceiving  that  the  whole  fulness  of  the 
Godhead  dwelt  in  Christ,  took  exception  to  the  "  subordi- 
natianism  "  of  some  church  writers,  and  maintained  that  the 
names  Father  and  Son  were  only  two  different  designations 
of  the  same  subject,  the  one  God,  who  "  with  reference  to 
the  relations  in  which  He  had  previously  stood  to  the  world 
is  called  the  Father,  but  in  reference  to  His  appearance  in 
humanity  is  called  the  Son."  It  was  first  taUght,  in  the 
interests  of  the  "monarchia"  of  God,  by  Praxeas,  a  con- 
fessor from  Asia  Minor.in  Rome  about  1 90,  and  was  ojjposed 
by  TertiUlian  in  his  well-known  controversial  tract.  The 
same  view — the  "  patripassian  "  as  it  was  also  called, because 
it  implied  that  God  the  Father  had  suffered  on  the  cross — 
obtained  fresh  support  in  Kome  about  215  from  certain 
disciples  of  Noetus  of  Smyrna,  who  received  a  modified 
support  from  Bishop  Callistus.  It  was  on  this  account 
that  Hippolytus,  the  champion  of  hypostasian  subordinatian- 
ism,  along  with  his  adherents,  withdrew  from  the  obedience 
of  Callistus,  and  formed  a  separate  community.  A  new  and 
conciliatory  phase  pf  patripassianism  was  expounded  at  a 
somewhat  later  date  by  Berj-llus  of  Bostra,  who,  while  hold- 
ing the  di'nnity  of  Christ  not  to  be  ISla,  or  proper  to  Him- 
self, but  TrarpiK^  (belonging  to  the  Father),  yet  recognized 
iu  His  personality  a  new  irpotnnrov  or  form  of  manifestation 
on  the  part  of  God.  Beryllus,  however,  was  convinced  of 
the  wrongness  of  this  view  by  Origex  (?.«.),  and  recanted 
at  the  synod  which  had  been  called  together  in  2  44  to 
discuss  it.  For  the  subsequent  history  of  modaUstic  mon- 
archianism, see  Sabellius. 

MONASTICISM.     See  Monachism. 

MONASTIK,  BiToiiA,  or  Toli  Monastir,  a  city  of 
Macedonia,  now  the  chief  town  of  the  Turkish  vilayet  of 
Roumelia,  is  situated  at  a  height  of  1880  feet  above  the 
sea,  in  a  western  inlet  of  the  beautiful,  fertile,  and  many- 
villaged  plain  which,  with  a  breadth  of  about  10  miles, 
stretches  for  40  miles  eastward  from  Mount  Peristeri 
(7714  feet  high)  to  the  Babuna  chain.  It  is  embosomed 
in  rich  masses  of  foliage,  and  crossed  by  a  rough-channeled 
mountain  stream,  the  Drahor,  which  joins  the  Czema  or 
Karasu,  a  tributary  of  the  Vardar.  The  military  advan- 
tAges  of  its  po.-<ition  at  the  meeting-place  of  roads  from 
Salonica,  Durazzo,  Uskiub,  and  Adrianople  led  the  Turks 
dbout  1820  to  make  Monastir  the  headquarters  of  the 
Roumelian  corps  cTarmee.  Since  then  its  general  and 
coTnmercial  importance  has  greatly  increased.  A  consider- 
able amount  of  gold  and  silver  work  (especially  clasps  and 
filigree)  is  made  by  the  local  craftsmen.  The  population 
is  about  40,000. 

Monastir— so  calleJ  from  the  monastery  of  Bukova  (The  Beeches), 
•omo  himdred  feet  up  the  sloiie  of  Peristeri^^ia  ideutifieJ  with  the 


M  O  X 


719 


anci-nt  Hericloa  LjTiccstis  on  the  Eimalian  VToy  ;  and  its  biihopnc 
is  still  caUcU  ti'.e  bishopric  of  ?cla,-oiiii  from  tlie  aucicnt  naiiii:  of 
the  plain.  In  1833  the  town  was  the  scene  of  the  massarn.  of  the 
Albanian  heys. 

MOXBODDO,  James  BtrKXETT.  Lord  (1714-1799), 
author  of  works  on  the  Oii>;in  and  Pnifirets  of  Lttnr/aaffe 
(published  in  1773),  and  Auciait  JfetujI/ii/sics  (1779),  was 
one  of  the  most  marked  characters  in  Scottish  literary 
circles  in  the  18th  century.  He  was  born  in  1714  at 
Jlonboddo  in  Kincardineshire,  studied  at  Aberdeen  and 
Groningen,  and  quickly  took  a  leading  position  at  the 
Edinburgh  bar,  being  made  one  of  the  Lords  of  Re.ssion 
in  1767.  Many  of  his  eccentricities,  both  of  conduct  and 
opinion,  appear  less  eccentric  to  the  present  generation 
than  they  did  to  his  contemporaries;  though  he  seems  to 
have  heightened  the  impression  of  them  by  his  humorous 
sallies  in  their  defence.  He  may  have  had  other  reasons 
than  the  practice  of  the  ancients  for  dining  late  and  per- 
forming his  journeys  on  horseback  instead  of  in  a  carriage. 
His  views  about  the  origin  of  society  and  language  and  the 
faculties  by  which  man  is  distinguished  from  the  brates 
afforded  endless  matter  for  jest  to  the  wags  of  his  day; 
but  readers  of  this  generation  are  more  likely  to  be  sur- 
prised by  the  scientific  character  of  his  method  and  the 
acuteness  of  his  conclusions  than  amused  by  his  eccentri- 
city. These  conclusions  have  many  curious  points  of  con- 
tact with  Darwinism  and  Neo-Kantism.  His  idea  of 
studying  man  as  one  of  the  animals,  and  of  collecting  facts 
about  savage  tribes  to  throw  light  on  the  problems  of 
civilization,  bring  him  into  contact  with  the  one,  and  his 
intimate  knowledge  of  Greek  philosophy  >vith  the  other. 
In  both  respects  Monboddo  was  far  in  advance  of  his 
neighbours.     His  happy  turn  of  Virgil's  line — 

"Xante  molis  erat  humannm  condere  gentem  " — 
might  be  adopted  as  a  motto  by.  the  Evolutionists ;  and 
Neo-Kantians  would  find  it  hard  to  believe  that  he  published 
his  criticism  of  Locke  in  1773.  His  studied  abstinence 
from  fine  writing — from  "  the  rhetorical  and  poetical  style 
fashionable  among  writers  of  the  present  day  " — on  such 
subjects  as  he  handled  confirmed  the  idea  of  his  con- 
temporaries that  he  was  only  an  eccentric  concocter  of 
supremely  absurd  paradoxes.  He  died,  26th  May  1799, 
at  the  advanced  age  of  eighty-five. 

MONCTON,  a  town  of  the  Dominion  of  Canada,  in 
Westmoreland,  Kew  Brunswick,  89  miles  by  rail  north- 
east of  St  John,  is  a  port  at  the  head  of  navigation  on  the 
Petitcodiac,  and  the  seat  of  the  workshops  and  general 
ofiices  of  the  Intercolonial  Railway.  The  popxilation, 
about  1200  in  1871,  was  5032  in  1881;  the  growth  of 
the  place  has  been  favoured  by  the  establishment  of  sugar- 
refining  factories,  and  ftlctories  for  cotton  and  brass  and  iron 
wares  since  the  Canadian  Parliament  in  1879  adopted  a 
policy  01  protection.  For  the  year  1881-82  the  exports 
amounted  to  $64,817,  and  the  imports  to  8252,571. 

MON^DOXEDO,  an  ancient  city  of  Spain,  27  miles 
north-north-east  from  Lugo,  in  the  province  of  that  name, 
is  situated  on  the  Sixto,  a  small  tributary  of  the  Masma, 
on  the  Atlantic  side  of  the  Cantabrian  chain,  in  a  sheltered 
site  surrounded  on  all  sides  by  considerable  hills.  The 
population  in  1S78  was  10,112.  Thf,^incipal  buildings 
are  the  cathedral,  a  Corinthian  structure  of  the  17th 
century,  an  ex-convent  of  Franciscan  friars  of  Alcantara, 
which  is  now  used  for  a  theatre  and  a  pablic  school,  and 
the  civU  hospital.  The  industries,  which  are  unimportant, 
include  lace-making,  linen-weaving,  and  leather  manu- 
facture. 

Accordine  to  local  tradition,  the  bishopric  of  Dumitun,  near 
Braga,  was  transferred  to  San  JIartin  dc  MondoSedo  (three  leagues 
from  llondohedo)  in  the  8th  century ;  it  was  brought  to  Mondo&edo 
itself  by  Dofia  Urraca  in  the  beginning  of  the  12th  century  ;  for 
about  sixty  years  prior  to  1233.the  see  wasatBibadeo.     After  haviDg, 


720 


M  O  N  — M  O  N 


been  for  nearly  a  century  and  a  half  in  the  hands  of  the  Moors, 
MondoBedo  was  recaptured  by  OrdoBo  I.  in  858  ;  and  the  Christian 
possession  waa  made  permanent  by  Alphonso  III.  in  870.  It  was 
taken  by  surprise  by  the  French  in  1809. 

MONDOVl,  a  city  of  Italy,  in  the  province  of  Cuneo, 
15  miles  east  of  Cuneo  and  about  55  west  of  Genoa  by 
rail,  was  formerly  the  chief  town  of  the  Sardinian  province 
of  Mondovi,  and  between  1560  and  1719  the  seat  of  a 
Pledmontese  university.  The  central  quarter  occupies  the 
summit  of  a  hill  1670  feet  high,  and  contains  the  hexa- 
gonal piazza,  a  citadel  erected  in  1573  by  Emanuel  PhiU- 
bert,  the  cathedral  of  St  Donatus,  a  spacious  episcopal 
palace,  and  the  statue  of  Beccaria,  who  was  a  native  of 
the  town.     At  the  foot  of  the  hill  along  the  banks  of  the 


EUero  (a  tributary  of  the  Po)  lie  the  industrial  and 
commercial  suburbs  of  Breo,  Borgatto,  Pian  della  Valle, 
and  Carassone,  with  their  potteries,  tanneries,  marble- 
works,  lie.  The  mansion  of  Count  San  Quintino  in  Pian 
della  Valle  was  the  seat  of  the  printing-press  which  from 
1472  issued  books  with  the  imprint  Mons  Kegalis;  and  in 
modern  times  the  Ducal  press  founded  by  Emanuel  Phili- 
bert  has  acquired  a  great  reputation.  The  population  of 
the  town  was  9637  in  1871,  with  the  suburbs  11,958; 
that  of  the  commune  17,726  in  1861,  and  17,902  in  1881. 
Breo  is  identified  with  a  qcrtaiu  Colonia  Bredolensis  ;  but  Slon- 
dovi  proper — Mons  Vici,  Mons  Kegalis  (Monteregale),  or  Vicodunum 
— probably  did  not  take  its  rise  till  about  1000  A.D.  The  bishopric 
dates  from  1388. 


MONEY 


1.  Definition  and  Functions  of  Monet/. — The  precise 
definition  of  Money  is  a  question  presenting  no  small 
difEcvUty,  and  it  has  been  complicated  by  the  attempts  of 
some  writers  to  define  the  term  so  as  to  lend  support  to 
their  favourite  theories.  The  real  difficulties  of  the  subject 
are,  however,  chiefly  connected  with  paper-money,  and  as 
that  side  of  the  question  has  been  dealt  with  in  the  article 
Banking  (?.».)  it  will  here  be  sufficient  to  adopt  the  clear 
and  careful  da^cription  of  money  given  by  a  distinguished 
American  economist  as  being  "  that  which  passes  freely 
from  hand  to  hand  throughout  the  community  in  final  dis- 
charge of  debts  and  full  payment  for  commodities,  being 
accepted  equally  without  reference  to  the  character  or  credit 
of  the  person  who  offers  it  and  without  the  intention  of  the 
person  who  receives  it  to  consume  it  or  enjoy  it  or  apply  it 
to  any  other  use  than  in  turn  to  tender  it  to  others  in  dis- 
charge of  debts  or  payment  for  commodities."  '  In  this 
passage  the  essential  features  of  money  are  plainly  set  forth, 
though,  as  is  frequently  the  case  in  economics,  particular 
cases  hard  to  bring  within  the  description  may  be  found. ^ 

The  functions  which  money  discharges  in  the  social 
organism  are — at  least  in  the  opinion  of  all  writers  worth 
noticing  here — clearly  manifest.  The  most  important  is 
that  of  facilitating  exchanges.  It  is  not  necessary  to  dwell 
on  the  great  importance  of  this  ofiice.  The  mere  consider- 
ation of  industrial  organization  shows  that  it  is  based  on 
the  division  of  employments ;  but  tlie  earliest  economic 
writers  saw  clearly  that  division  of  employments  was 
rendered  possible  only  by  the  use  of  a  medium  of  exchange. 
They  saw  that  the  result  of  increasing  specialization  of 
labour  was  to  bring  about  a  state  of  things  in  which  each 
individual  produced  little  or  nothing  directly  adapted  to 
satisfy  his  ewn  wants,  and  that  each  one  was  to  live  by 
exchanging  his  products  for  those  of  others.  They  saw, 
moreover,  that  this  was  not  feasible  \vithout  some  object 
which  all  would  be  willing  to  accept  for  their  peculiar  pro- 
ducts, for  otherwise,  the  difficulty  of  getting  those  together 
whose  wants  were  reciprocal  would  be  a  complete  hindrance 
to  the  develojiment  of  exchange,  which  alone  made  division 
of  labour  possible.  A  second  function  hardly  inferior  in 
importance  to  the  one  just  mentioned  is  that  of  affording 
a  ready  means  of  estimating  the  comparative  value  of  dif- 
ferent commodities.  Without  som.e  common  commodity  as 
a  standard  of  comparison  this  would  be  almost  impossible. 
"  If  a  tailor  had  only  coats  and  wanted  to  buy  bread  or  a 
horse,  it  would  be  very  troublesome  to  ascertain  how  much 
bread  he  ought  to  obtain  for  a  coat  or  liow  many  coats  he 


'  F.  A.  Walker,  Mmey,  Trade,  and  IndHstry,  p.  i. 

-  For  further  information  as  to  the  discussions  relative  to  the  proper 
definition  of  "  Money,"  the  reader  may  consult  J.  S.  Mill,  Prin.  of  Pol. 
Eton.,  B.  iii.  ch.  12,  §  7  ;  Jcvous,  Honey,  pp.  248  sq.;  i,.  do 
Lnveleye,  Marchi  Monllaire,  pp.  226  sq.;  ami  especially  Mr  H. 
Sidgwick's  article  "  What  is  Money ! "  in  the  Foriniijhtly  Review 
(April  1879),  also  his  PritKiples  of  Political  Economy,  pp.  231  .17. 


should  give  for  a  horse ; " '  and  as  the  number  of  com- 
modities to  be  dealt  with  increased  the  problem- would  be- 
come harder,  "  for  each  commodity  would  have  to  be  quoted 
in  terms  of  every  other  commodity."  Indeed  it  may  be 
reasonably  maintained  that  the  idea  of  general  value  could 
not  be  formed  without  the  existence  of  money,  and  all  that 
is  known  of  savage  races  tends  to  bear  out  this  view.*  The 
adoption  of  some  one  commodity  renders  the  comparison 
of  values  easy.  "The  chosen  commodity  becomes  a  common 
denominator  or  common  measure  of  value  in  terms  of  which 
we  estimate  tho  values  of  all  other  goods,"  ^  and  thus  money, 
which  in  its  primary  function  renders  exchanges  possible  by 
acting  as  an  intermediate  term  in  each  exchange,  also  makes 
exchanges  easier  by  making  them  definite.  Another  func- 
tion of  money  comes  into  being  with  the  progress  of  society. 
One  of  the  most  distinctive  features  of  advaiicing  civiliza- 
tion is  the  increasing  tendency  of  people  to  trust  each 
other.  Thus  there  is  a  continual  increase  in  relations  of 
contract,  as  may  be  seen  by  examining  the  development  of 
any  legal  system.  Now  a  contract  implies  something  tO' 
be  done  in  the  future,  and  for  estimating  the  value  of  that 
future  act  a  standard  is  required  ;  and  here  money,  which 
already  acts  as  a  medinm  of  exchange  and  as  a  measure  ofvalui 
at  a  given  time,  performs  a  third  function,  by  affording  an 
approximate  means  of  estimating  the  present  value  of  the 
future  act,  and  in  this  respect  may  be  regarded  as  a  standard' 
of  value,  or,  if  the  phrase  be  preferred,  of  deferred  payments.^ 
Some  writers  attribute  a  fourth  function  to  money,  inas- 
much as  they  regard  it  as  being  a  means  of  easily  storing 
up  value.  Doubtless  it  does  supplj-  this  need,  which  is  a 
specially  pressing  one  in  early  civilizations  owing  to  the 
insecuritj'  vfhich  then  exists,  but  with  the  progress  of 
settled  government  the  need  becomes  less  extreme.  Other 
forms  of  investment  grow  up,  and  the  habit  of  hoarding 
money  becomes  unusual.  It  is  therefore  better  to  regard 
the  functions  of  money  as  being  only  three  in  number,  ^'iz., 
to  furnish — (1)  the  common  medium  by  which  exchanges 
are  rendered  possible,  (2)  the  common  measure  by  which 
the  comparative  values  of  those  exchanges  are  estimated, 
and  (3)  the  standard  by  which  future  obligations  are 
determined. 

2.  C auscs  which  Determine  the  Value  of  itoney.  Quantity 
of  Money  needed  by  a  Nation. — The  problem  of  the  deter- 
mining causes  of  the  value  of  money  is  a  particular  case  of 
the  general  problem  of  values,  but  there  are  circumstances 
which  render  the  inquiry  more  than  usually  complicated. 
Before  considering  these  it  will  be  well  to  deal  with  a  use 
of  the  phrase  "value  of  money"  which  has  led  to  much  con- 


'  Mill,  Prin.,  B.  iii.  ch,  7,  §  1. 

■•  W.  Bagehot,  Economic Studics,fxi.  42-J3.     =  Jevons,  Money,  p.  6. 

*  For  an  ingenious  argument  ngniust  the  use  of  the  terms  "  measure  ' 
and  "standard"  of  value,  see  F.  A.  Walker,  Money,  pp.  4  sq.,  12,  and 
Money,  Trade,  and  Indnstry,  pp.  27  517.,  CO  sq.  Tlie  shorter  title  i: 
uniformly  used  here  for  his  larger  treatise. 


MONEY 


721 


<famon. '  In  mercantOe  phraseology  the  Talue  of  money 
means  the  interest  charged  for  the  vise  of  loanable  capital 
Thus,  when  the  market  rate  of  interest  is  high  money  is 
said  to  be  dear,  when  it  is  low  money  is  regarded  as  cheap. 
Whatever  may  be  the  force  of  the  reasons  in  favour  of  this 
ose,  it  is  only  mentioned  here  for  the  purpose  of  excluding 
it.  For  our  present  subject,  "  the  value  of  a  thing  is  what 
it  will  exchange  for ;  the  value  of  money  is  what  money 
will  exchange  for,  or  its  purchasing  power.  If  prices  are 
low,  money  will  buy  much  of  other  things,  and  is  of  high 
value ;  if  prices  are  high,  it  vcill  buy  little  of  other  things, 
and  is  of  low  value.  The  value  of  money  is  inversely  as 
general  prices,  falling  as  they  rise  and  rising  as  they  fall."  > 
Now  in  the  general  theory  of  value  it  appears  that  the 
proximate  condition  which  determines  it  is  the  equation 
between  supply  and  demand;  and  this  is  clearly  the  case 
with  reference  to  money.  These  terms,  supply  and  demand, 
need,  however,  some  elucidation.  Let  us  consider  what  is 
meant  by  the  supply  of,  and  demand  for,  money.  The 
supply  of  a  commodity  means  the  quantity  of  it  which  is 
offered  for  sale.  But  in  what  shape  does  the  sale  of  money 
take  place  t  By  being  offered  for  goods.  "  The  supply  of 
money,  then,  is  the  quantity  of  it  which  people  are  wanting 
to  lay  out;"  or,  to  put  the  point  more  concisely,  it  is  "all 
the  money  in  circulfition  at  the  time."  Again,  to  take  the 
case  of  demand, — the  demand  for  a  commodity  is  the  pui-- 
chasing  power  offered  for  it.-  Demand  in  the  special  case 
of  money  consists  of  all  the  goods  offered  for  sale.  There 
is,  however,  a  peculiar  featiu*e  in  the  case  of  money  which 
arises  from  its  position  as  the  medium  of  exchange,  viz., 
that  money  is,  so  to  say,  in  a  "  constant  state  of  supply 
and  demand,"  since  its  principal  service  is  to  act  as  the 
means  of  purchasing  commodities.'  From  this  it  follows 
that  the  factors  which  determine  the  value  of  money  within 
a  given  time  are  :  (1)  the  amount  of  money  in  ciroidation, 
and  (2)  the  amount  of  goods  to  be  sold.  On  closer  exami- 
nation it  will,  however,  appear  that  there  are  other  elements 
to  be  taken  into  account.  In  the  first  place,  the  quantity 
of  money  is  not  by  itself  the  sole  element  on  the  supply 
side.  In  some  instances  a  coin,  will  not  circulate  more 
than  two  or  three  times  in  a  year,  while  another  coin  may 
make  hundreds  of  purchases.  In  determining  the  value  of 
money  these  varying  rates  of  circulation  have  to  be  con- 
sidered, and  by  taking  an  average  we  may  estabUsh  the 
existence  of  a  fresh  element  to  be  estimated,  namely,  the 
average  rapidity  with  which  money  does  its  work,  or,  to 
use  Mill's  expression,  "the  e£Bciency  of  money."  On 
the  side  of  demand,  again,  it  is  not  the  quantity  of  commo- 
dities that  is  the  determining  element,  but  the  amount  of 
sales,  and  the  same  article  may,  and  generally  does,  pass 
through  several  hands  before  it  reaches  the  consumer. 
From  this  it  follows  that  (if  the  consideration  of  credit  in 
its  various  forms  be  omitted)  the  value  of  money  is  inversely 
as  its  quantity  multiplied  by  its  efficiency,  the  amount 
of  transactions  being  assumed  to  be  constant.  This  formula 
requires,  however,  some  further  explanations  before  it  can 
be  accepted  as  a  full  expression  of  the  truth  on  the  subject. 
It  must  be  noticed  that  it  is  not  commodities  only  that  are 
exchanged  for  money.  Services  of  all  kinds  constitute  a 
large  portion  of  the  demand,  while  the  payment  of  interest 
on  the  various'  forms  of  obligation  requires  a  large  amount 
■)f  the  circulating  medium.  The  potent  influence  of  credit 
Jso  must  be  dwelt  on.  This  latter  force  is  the  main  element 
to  be  considered  in  dealing  mth  variations  of  prides ;  but 


«  Mill,  Prin.,  B.  iiL  ch.  8,  §  1. 

=  For  a  cleir  statement  of  this,  Eee  J.  R  Caimes,  Leading  Principle!:, 
part  i.  ch.  2. 

'  The  leadins  exception  to  this  is  in  the  case  of  money  \:\.\cu  is 
loarded  for  an  iude&nite  period,  and  is  therefore  withdrawn  fiom  cir- 
^olatioo. 

10— 2G 


BO  far  ELS  it  is  based  on  a  deposit  of  metallic  money  it  may 
be  looked  on  as  a  means  of  increasing  the  efficiency  of 
money,  and  therefore  as  coming  within  the  formula  given 
above.  In  its  other  aspects  it  lies  outside  the  range  of 
this  article.  Some  interesting  conclusions  may  be  deduced 
from  the  resnits  we  have  arrived  at.  One  of  these  is  that 
the  " increased  development  of  trade,"  or  "expansion  of 
commerce,"  of  itself  tends  to  lower  not  to  raise  prices; 
for,  by  increasing  the  work  which  money  has  to  do  while 
th«  amount  remains  the  same,  it  raises  its  value.*  Another 
Consequence  is  that  a  large  addition  may  be  made  to  the 
money  in  a  coimtry  without  any  effect  being  produced  on 
prices.  This  is  evident,  since  money  only  acts  on  prices 
by  being  brought  into  circulation  ;  therefore,  if  the  money 
which  is  added  to  the  national  stock  is  not  used  in  this 
way,  prices  will  remain  unaffected. 

We  have  now  sufficiently  considered  the  proximate  con- 
ditions which  determine  the  value  of  money  ;_  the  next  step 
is  to  inquire  :  What  is  the  ultimate  regulator  of  its  value  ? 
The  value  of  freely-produced  commodities  is — according  to 
the  ordinary  theory  of  economists- — determined  by  their 
"  cost  of  production,"  or,  where  the  article  is  produced  at 
different  costs,  by  the  cost  of  production  of  the  most  costly 
portion.  We  have  now  to  consider  how  far  this  theory 
applies  to  the  special  case  of  money.  Gold  and  silver,  the 
principal  materials  of  money,  are  the  products  of  mines, 
and  are  produced  at  different  costs ;  therefore  the  cost  of 
the  part  produced  at  greatest  cost  ought  to  determine  their 
value.  This  theory  is,  however,  true  only  under  certain 
conditions^ — namely,  that  competition  is  perfectly  free,  and 
that  there  are  accurate  data  for  computing  the  cost  of  pro- 
duction, and  even  then  it  is  true  only  "  in  the  long  run." 
Moreover,  cost  only  operates  on  value  by  affecting  supply. 
"  The  latent  influence,"  says  Mill,*  "  by  which  the  values 
of  things  are  made  to  conform  in  the  long  run  to  the  cost 
of  production  is  the  variation  that  would  otherwise  take 
place  in  the  supply  of  the  commodity."  From  these  con- 
siderations it  follows  that  cost  of  production  does  not  so 
influentially  affect  the  value  of  money  as  some  writers  have 
supposed.  In  former  periods  it  was  a  common  proceeding 
on  the  part  of  the  state  to  either  restrict  or  stimulate  coin- 
age and  mining  for  the  precious  metals.  At  all  times  the 
working  of  gold  and  silver  mines  has  been  rather  a  hazard- 
ous speculation  than  a  legitimate  business.  "  When  any 
person  undertakes  to  work  a  new  mine  in  Peru,"  says  Adam; 
Smith,"  "  he  is  universally  looked  upon  as  a  man  destined 
to  bankruptcy  and  ruin,  and  is  upon  that  account  shunned 
and  avoided  by  everybody.  Mining,  it  seems,  is  considered 
there  in  the  same  light  as  here,  as  a  lottery,  in  which 
the  prizes  do  not  compensate  the  blanks ; "  and  all  subse- 
quent experience  confirms  this  view.  With  regard  to  the 
adjustment  of  supply  to  meet  an  altered  cost  of  production, 
the  difficulties  are,  if  possible,  still  greater.  The  supply 
of  money  is  so  large  compared  with  the  annual  production, 
that  any  change  can  operate  but  slowly  on  its  value.  The 
total  stoppage  of  fresh  supplies  firom  the  mines  would  not 
be  felt  for  some  years  in  the  increased  value ;  and  an  in- 
creased amount  of  production,  though  more  rapid  in  its 
operation,  takes  some  time  to  produce  an  effect.  "  Hence 
the  effects  of  all  changes  in  the  conditions  of  production  of 
the  precious  metals  are  at  first,  and  continue  to  be  for  many 
years,  questions  of  quantity  only,  with  Uttle  reference  to 
cost  of  production."  On  these  grounds  it  is  apparent  that 
cost  of  production  is  not,  for  short  periods,  the  controlling 
force  which  governs  the  value  of  money,  and  even  for  long 


*  This  view,  which  seems  to  most  persons  a  p.iradox,  is  well  put  by 
Adam  Smith,  Wealth  of  Kations,  p.  81  (ed.  M'Culloch) ;  also  by  J. 
E.  Caimes,  Essays  mi  Political  Ecommy,  p.  4. 

«  Prin.,  B.  iii.  ch.  3,  §  2. 

»  Wealth  o/A'atims,  p.  78  (cd.  M'Culloch). 


722 


MONEY 


periorls  the  speculrttivo  naturo  of  ttia  industries  connected 
■with  the  production  of  money  renders  the  cmi  of  produc- 
tion an  element  very  hard  to  ascertain.  Another  considera- 
tion which  gives  a  peculiar  feature  to  the  problem  of  money- 
value  is  that  in  the  ca^e  of  other  commodities  a  change  in 
cost  of  production  affects  value  without  any  actual  change 
in  the  supply.  The  knowledge  that  a  commodity  can  be 
produced  at  a  lower  cost  will  cause  a  reduction  in  its  value. 
This  is  not  true  of  money.  Either  the  quantity  or  the 
efficiency  of  money  must  be  altered  to  change  its  value. 
This  is,  of  course,  a  result  of  its  position  as  the  circulating 
medium.  When  all  these  circumstances  are  taken  into 
account  it  becomes  clear  that  the  most  correct  way  to 
regard  the  question  of  money-value  is  that  which  looks  on 
supply  and  demand,  as  interpreted  above,  as  the  regu- 
lator of  its  value  for  a  limited  time,  while  regarding  cost 
of  production  as  a  force  exercising  an  influence  of  uncer- 
tain amount  on  its  fluctuations  during  long  periods.  Where 
the  coinage  of  a  state  is  artificially  limited,  the  value  of 
its  money  plainly  depends  on  supplv  and  demand  as  we 
iave  interpreted  it. 

The  next  question  which  arises  is  ;  What  quantity  of 
■money  does  a  nation  require  ?  What  amount  of  the  circu- 
lating medium  is  necessary  for  the  proper  working  of  the 
industrial  organism  1  To  this  puzzling  problem  the  earlier 
economists  gave  answers  in  the  shape  of  definite  formulas. 
Thus,  Sir  W.  Petty  was  of  opinion  that  the  amount  of  coin 
required  by  a  country  was  one-half  the  rent  of  land,  one- 
fourth  the  amount  of  building  rent,  and  one  fifty-second 
part  of  the  annual  wages  of  labour.  Locke's  view  was- that 
one-fiftieth  of  labourera'  wages,  one-fourth  landowners' 
revenue,  and  one-twentieth  of  traders'  yearly  returns,  was  • 
the  proper  amount.  Modern  statisticians,  however,  though 
having  command  of  much  greater  resources,  decline  to 
attempt  a  quantitative  answer,  and  content  themselves 
■with  indicating  the  conditions  which  the  problem  involves, 
in  fact  we  must  first  examine  the  work  which  money  has 
to  perform,  and  this  depends  on  several  conditions.  The 
first  of  these  is  the  population  ;  cseteris  paribus,  twice  as 
many  people  ■will  want  twice  as  much  money.  The  second 
is  the  amount  of  transactions ;  for,  if  the  amount  of  busi- 
ness done  is  doubl  d,  the  amount  of  money  must  be  also 
doubled,  unless  at  the  same  time  some  improvement  in  credit 
is  introduced.  The  efficiency  of  money  b  a  third  element 
■which  aflfects  the  quantity  needed,  and  this  is  largely 
dependent  on  the  habits  of  the  people  and  the  facilities  for 
communication.  Other  elements  which  can  be  ordy  briefly 
indicated  are — -"  the  degree  in  which  credit  exists  between 
man  and  man  ;  the  amount  of  travelling  which  takes  place  ; 
and  the  commercial  and  banking  organization  which  exists."  ' 
Another  factor  which  reqidres  to  be  estimated  is  the  extent 
to  which  habits  of  hoarding  exist ;  for  all  money  hoarded 
is  withdrawn  from  circulation,  and  therefore  increases  the 
total  amount  needed.  The  habits  of  saving  in  the  rural 
dbtricts  of  France  remarkably  exemplify  this  element  in 
the  question.  Again,  the  existence  of  barter  does  away 
■with  the  use  of  so  much  money  as  would  be  required  to 
carry  on  the  exchanges  effected  by  barter.  The  custom 
of  paying  wages  in  kind  has  a  similar  effect.  This  bare 
statement  shows  how  insoluble  the  question  is.  'Wlien  we 
contemplate  the  matter  from  an  international  point  of 
view,  the  amount  needed,  after  allowance  is  made  for  the 
cost  of  transporting  goods,  is  plainly  that  which  will  keep 
a  country's  prices  at  a  level  with  those  of  the  countries 
•with  which  it  has  commercial  relations.^  For  otherwise 
the  country  woidd  have  an  excess  either  of  importation  or 
of  exportation,  which  would  necessitate  a  flow  of  money  to 
the  country  whose  prices  were  lov/er  than  the  general  level. 


I  F.  A.  Walker,  Honey,  p.  73. 


li.,  p.  bl. 


This,  then,  Is  the  condition  wWch  determines  couijiarative 
prices  between  different  countries ;  and,  prices  being  so 
determined,  the  quantity  of  money  needed  to  keep  up  those 
prices  depends  on  the  conditions  above  indicated.  In  tho 
case  of  England  reliable  statistics  t«nd  to  show  that  the 
gold  in  circulation  wa.s,  in  1872,  about  £105,000,000,  and 
the  note  circulation  £13,000,000.  In  any  Continental 
country  the  amount  would  probably  be  proportionally  much 
greater,  owing  to  the  fact  that  there  is  in  England  a  greater 
development  of  credit. 

3.  Early  Fonm  of  Currenry. — Up  to  the  present  we  have 
considered  money  <is  being  fully  established  and  properly 
adapted  to  fulfil  its  various  functions.  We  have  now  to 
trace  the  steps  by  which  a  suitable  system  of  currency  was 
evolved  from  a  state  of  barter.  It  is  important  for  a  right 
understanding  of  the  question  to  grasp  tho  ft.ct  that  ex- 
changes took  i>lace  originally  between  groups,  and  not 
between  individuals.  This  explains  the  slow  growth  of 
exchanges,  as  each  group  produced  most  of  the  articles 
necessary  for  itself,  and  such  acts  of  barter  as  took  place 
were  rather  reciprocal  presents  than  mercantile  exchanges. 
Such  is  actually  the  case  at  present  among  modem  savages. 
"  It  is  instructive  to  see  trade  in  its  lowest  form  among 
such  tribes  as  the  Australians.  The  tough  greeristone 
valuable  for  making  hatchets  is  carried  hundreds  of  miles 
by  natives,  who  receive  from  other  tribes  in  return  the 
prized  products  of  their  districts,  such  as  red  ochre  to  paint 
their  bodies  with ;  they  have  even  got  so  far  as  to  let 
peaceful  traders  pass  unharmed  through  tribes  at  war,  so 
that  trains  of  youths  might  be  met,  each  lad  with  a  slab  of 
sandstone  on  his  head  to  be  carried  to  his  distant  home 
and  shaped  into  a  seed-crusher.  ^Maen  strangers  ■visit  a 
tribe  they  are  received  at  a  friendly  gathering  or  cor- 
robboree,  and  presents  are  given  on  both  sides.  No  doubt 
there  is  a  general  sense  that  the  gifts  are  to  be  fair 
exchanges,  and  if  either  side  is  not  satisfied  there  ■will  be 
grumbling  and  quarrelling  ;  but  in  this  roughest  kind  of 
barter  we  do  not  yet  find  that  clear  notion  of  a  unit  of 
value  which  is  the  great  step  in  trading."^  This  vivid 
description  of  what  is  going  on  at  present  among  lower 
races  enables  us  to  realize  the  way  in  which  money  came 
into  existence.  WTien  any  commodity  becomes  an  object 
of  desire,  not  merely  from  its  use  to  the  persons  desiring  it, 
but  from  their  wanting  it  as  being  readily  exchangeable 
for  other  things,  then  that  article  may  be  regarded  as  rudi- 
mentary money.  Thus  the  greenstone  and  ochre  are  on 
their  way  to  being  promoted  to  the  position  of  currency, 
and  the  idea  of  a  "  unit  of  value  "  is  all  that  is  needed  to 
complete  the  invention.  "  This  higher  stage  is  found  among 
the  Indians  of  British  Columbia,  whose  strings  of  haiqua- 
shells  worn  as  ornamental  borders  to  their  dresses  serve 
them  also  as  currency  to  trade  with,- — a  string  of  ordinary 
quality  being  reckoned  as  worth  one  beaver's  skin."  *  These 
shells,  therefore,  are  in  reality  money,  inasmuch  as  thev 
discharge  its  functions. 

On  a  review  of  existing  savage  tribes  and  ancient  races  of  more 
or  less  cinlirjitiou  we  are  surpiised  at  the  creat  variety  of  obje'-ts 
which  hare  been  used  to  supply  the  need  of  a  circulating  medium. 
Skins,  for  instance,  seem  to  be  one  of  the  earliest  fonns  of  money. 
They  are  to  be  found  at  present  amonf;  the  Indians  of  Alaska'  dis- 
charging this  service,  while  accounts  of  leather  money  seem  to  show 
that  their  use  was  formerly  more  general.  As  the  hunting  sta"o 
gives  place  to  tlio.  pastoral,  and  animals  become  domesticated,  the 
animal  itself,  instead  of  its  skin,  becomes  the  principal  form  of  cur- 
rency. There  is  a  great  mass  of  evidence  to  show  that,  in  the  most 
distant  regions  and  at  very  different  times,  cattle  formed  a  currency 
for  pastoral  and  early  agricultural  nations.  Alike  among  existing 
barbarous  tribes  and  in  tho  survivals  discovered  among  classical 
nations,  shern  ard  oxen  both  appear  as  units  of  value.  Thus  w« 
lind  that  at  Kc-nc,  and  through  tho  Italian  tribes  generally,  "oxen 
and  sheep  farmed  tho  oldest  medium  of  exchange,  ten  sheep  beinjj 


'  E,  B.  Tylor,  Antlircpotojrj,  pp.  281-282. 

'  Tylor,  loc.  cit.  '  Whympor,  Alaska,  p.  286. 


MONEY 


723 


fad:oned  equivalent  to  one  ox.  The  recognition  of  these  objects  as 
t^urersal  legal  representatives  of  value,  or,  in  other  words,  as  money, 
may  be  traced  back  to  the  epoch  of  a  purely  pastoral  erouomy.  "* 
The  Icelandic  law  bears  witness  to  a  similar  state  of  thiags  ;  while 
the  viriovn  f:p.es  in  the  different  Teutonic  codes  are  estimated  in 
cattlj.  'It.,  Larin  word  jwctmio  (pjcu5)  i.i  an  evidence  of  the  earliest 
"Roman  mouey  being  composed  of  cattle.  The  English  fee  and  the 
famous  term  /eitdal,  according  to  its  most  probable  etymology,  are 
derived  from  the  same  root  In  a  well-known  passage  of  the  Iliad' 
the  value  of  two  different  seta  of  armour  is  estimated  in  terms  of 
oxen.  The  Irish  law  tracts  bear  evidence  as  to  the  use  of  cattle  as 
one  of  the  measures  of  value  in  early  Irish  civilization.'  Within 
the  last  few  years  it  has  been  prominently  brojght  before  the  public 
that  oxen  form  the  principal  wealth  and  the  circulating  medium 
smong  the  Zulus  and  Kaffrea.  On  the  testimony  of  an  eye-witness 
ve  are  assured  that,  "as  cattle  constitute  the  sole  wealth  of  the 
people,  so  they  are  their  only  medium  of  such  transactions  as  involve 
exchange,  payment,  or  reward."*  We  find  that  cattle-rents  are 
TOid  by  the  pastoral  Indian  tribes  to  the  United  States  Government' 
From  the  prominence  of  slavery  in  early  societies  it  is  natural  to 
suppose  that  slaves  would  be  adopted  as  a  medium  of  exchange,  and 
one  of  the  measures  of  value  in  tne  Irish  law  tracts,  eumAal,  is  said 
to  have  originally  meant  a  female  slave.  They  are  at  present  applied 
to  this  purpose  in  Central  Africa,  and  also  in  New  Guinea.  On 
passing  to  the  agricultural  stage  a  greater  number  of  objects  are 
found  capable  of  being  applied  to  currency  purposes.  Among  these 
are  corp — used  even  at  present  in  Norway— maize,  olive  oil,  cocoa- 
nntSj  and  tea.  The  most  remarkable  instance  of  an  agricultural 
product  being  used  as  currency  is  to  be  found  in  the  case  of  tobacco, 
which  was  adopted  as  legal  tender  by  the  English  colonists  in  North 
America.  Another  class  of  articles  used  for  money  consists  of 
ornaments,  which  among  all  uncivilized  tribes  serve  this  purpose. 
The  haiqua-shells  mentioned  before  are  an  instance,  cowries  in 
India,  whales'  teeth  among  the  Fijians,  red  feathers  among  some 
South  Sea  Island  tribes,  and  finally,  any  attractive  kinds  of  stone 
which  can  be  easily  worked.  Mineral  products,  so  far  as  they  do 
not  come  under  the  preceding  head,  furnish  another  class.  Thus 
salt  was  used  in  Abyssinia  and  Mexico,  while  the  metals — a  pheno- 
menon which  will  require  a  more  careful  examination — have  suc- 
ceeded in  finally  driving  all  their  inferior  competitors  out  of  the 
field,  and  have  become  the  sole  substances  for  money  at  present. 

4.  Metallic  Forms  of  Money.  Their  Superiwity  over 
other  Subatancea.  Special  Admntages  of  Silver  and  Gold. — 
The  use  of  metals  as  a  form  of  money  can  be  traced  far  back 
ia  the  history  of  civilization,  but,  as  it  is  not  possible  to 
ascertain  the  historical  order  of  their  respective  adoptions 
for  this  purpose,  we  will  take  them  in  the  order  of  their 
•value,  beginning  with  the  lowest.  Iron,  judging  from  the 
statement  of  Aristotle,  was  extensively  employed  as  currency. 
One  remarkable  icstance  of  this  which  at  once  occurs  to  the 
mind  is  the  Spartan  moiiey,  which  is  clearly  a  survival  of 
the  older  system  that  had  died  out  among  the  other  Greeks, 
though  by  modem  writers  it  has  been  attributed  to  ascetic 
policy.  In  conjunction  with  copper,  iron  formed  an  early 
Chinese  currency,  and  till  recently  it  was  a  subsidiary 
coinage  in  Japan.  Iron  spikes  are  used  in  Central  Africa, 
while  Adam  Smith  notices  the  use  of  nails  for  money  in 
Scotland.'  Lead  has  also  served  as  money,  as  it  does  at 
present  in  Burmah.  Copper  has  been  more  widely  employed 
than  either  of  the  previously-mentioned  metals.  Its  use  in 
■|China  as  a  parallel  standard  with  iron  has  just  been  men- 
tioned. The  early  Hebrew  coins  were  chiefly  composed  of 
it,  while  do«-n  to  269  b.c.  the  sole  Roman  coinage  was 
-an  alloy  of  copper.  Till  a  very  recent  period  it  formed  the 
principal  moneyof  some  poorer  European  states  (as  Sweden), 
■and  V.  as  the  subsidiary  coinage  of  the  United  Kingdom  till 
the  present  bronze  fractional  currency  was  introduced.  Tin 
was  not  so  favourite  a  material  for  money  as  copper,  but 
the  early  English  coinages  were  composed  of  it,  probably  on 
account  of  the  fertile  tin  mines  of  Cornwall,  and  in  later 
times  halfpence  and  farthings  of  tin  hn\  e  been  struck.     The 


'  Jloramsen.  fflsl.  of  P.omt  {Eng.  trans.),  i.  p.  203. 

'  The  episode  between  Diomede  and  Glaucus  in  the  6th  book. 

"  Maine,    Early   Historij  of  Instiliilions,  Lect.   vi.  ;  Brihon  i^aw 
Tincti  (ed.  by  Drs  Haiicoik  and  Richey). 

*  P.ev.  H.  Diigmore,  quoted  by  Maine,  op.  n't.,  p.  143 

•  F.  A  Walker,  Money,  Trade,  and  Indualry,  p.  22. 
«  n'laltli  of  Vadoiu,  p.  11. 


i."exv  metal  which  comes  into  notice  is  silver,  which  up  to 
the  last  few  years  was  the  principal  form  of  money,  and 
even  still  is  able  to  dispute  the  field  with  its  most  formidable 
livaL  It  formed  the  main  basis  of  Greek  coins,  and  was 
introduced  at  Rome  in  269  B.C.  The  mediaeval  nloney  was 
principally  composed  of  silver,  and  its  position  'Ji  recent 
times  will  have  to  be  subsequently  noticed  more  at  length. 
Gold  which  is  the  most  valuable  of  the  metals  widely  used 
for  monetary  purposes,  has  been  steadily  gaining  ground 
with  the  growth  of  commerce.  The  earliest  trace  of  its  use 
in  common  with  that  of  silver  is  to  be  found  "  in  the  pictures 
of  the  ancient  Egyptians  weighing  in  scales  heaps  of  rings 
of  gold  and  silver."  '  The  only  other  metals  used  for  money 
— platinum  and  nickel — may  be  easily  disposed  of.  The 
former  of  these  was  coined  for  a  short  time  by  the  Russian 
Government,  and  then  given  up  as  unsuitable.  The  latter 
is  only  used  as  an  alloy. 

The  examination  of  the  forms  of  currency,  both  metallic 
and  non-metallic,  in  which  we  have  been  engaged  leads  to 
certain  definite  conclusions  as  to  the  course  which  the 
evolution  of  currency  is  pursuing.  It  appears  (1)  that  the 
metals  tend  to  .supersede  all  other  forms  of  money  among 
progressive  peoples,  and  (2)  that  certain  metals  tend  to 
supersede  the  others.  From  this  we  are  led  to  consider  the 
qualities  which  are  desirable  in  the  material  of  money,  and 
to  conclude  that  the  presence  or  absence  of  those  qualities 
is  the  reason  of  the  adoption  or  rejection  of  any  given 
substance. 

(1)  In  the  first  place,  it  is  neicessary  that  the  material  of 
money  should  be  desirable,  or,  in  other  words,  possess  value  ; 
and  to  this  condition  all  the  commodities  we  have  reviewed 
conform,  for  otherwise  they  would  never  have  attained  the 
position  of  being  a  medium  of  exchange.  This  quality, 
then,  is  not  the  reason  for  the  preference  of  some  forms  over 
others.  (2)  The  second  requisite  clearly  is  that  the  value 
of  the  article  shall  be  high  in  proportion  to  its  weight  or 
bulk,  or,  to  put  the  same  truth  in  another  way,  it  is  requisite 
that  it  shall  be  portable.  Want  of  this  quality  has  been  a 
fatal  obstacle  to  many  early  forms  of  money  retaining  their 
place.  Skins,  com,  and  tobacco  were  found  very  difficult 
to  transfer  from  place  to  place.  Iron  and  copper  too 
suffered  from  the  same  defect,  while  sheep  and  oxen,  though 
moving  themselves,  were  expensive  to  transfer.  (3)  It  is 
further  desirable  that  the  material  of  money  shall  be  the 
same  throughout,  and  that  one  imit  shall  be  equal  in  value 
to  another.  This  is  a  reason  for  rejecting  the  widespread 
currency  composed  of  cattle,  as  the  difference  between  one 
and  another  head  is  of  course  often  considerable.  The 
metals  possess  a  particular  advantage  in  this  respect,  as, 
after  being  refined,  they  are  almost  exactly  homogeneous. 

(4)  A  fourth  requisite  is  that  the  substance  used  as  money 
can  without  damage  be  divided  and,  if  needed,  united  again; 
here  also  the  detired  quality  is  peculiarly  possessed  by  the 
metals,  as  they  are  easily  fusible,  while  skins  or  preciotia 
stones  suffer  greatly  in  value  by  division,  and  it  need  hardly 
be  added  that  the  same  is  the  c?se  with  regard  to  animals. 

(5)  Money  must  also  be  durable.  This  at  once  removes 
from  the  articles  suitable  for  money  all  animal  and  many 
vegetable  substances.  Eggs  or  oil  will  not  keep,  and  conse- 
quently soon  lose  their  value.  Iron,  too,  is  liable  to  rust, 
which,  combined  with  its  low  value,  is  a  reason  for  its  dis- 
us<^as  currency.  (6)  Money  should  be  easilydistinguishable, 
and  there  should  be  no  trouble  in  ascertaining  its  value. 
This  condition  is  one  of  the  reasons  why  precious  stones 
have  never  been  much  used  as  money,  their  value  being  hard 
to  estimate.  The  same  objection  applies  to  most  non- 
metallic  currencies,  and  is  only  obviated  even  in  their  case 
by  the  process  of  assaying.     (7)  The  last  condition  whicl 

'  Tjlor,  p.  283 


724 


M  O  J<  E  Y 


appears  desirable  for  the  money  material  is,  that  its  value 
shall  be  steady.  This,  however,  is  of  but  slight  impo'-tance 
in  early  societies,  and  it  is  only  as  deferred  payments  become 
a  prominent  feature  of  industrial  life  that  this  requisite  is 
much  needed.  It  is  enough  for  the  other  purposes  of  money 
that  it  shall  not  va'r<>-  within  short  periods,  which  is  found 
to  ba  a  feature  of  metals,  and  especially  of  silver  and  gold, 
while  corn  especially  varies  mdely  in  value  from  season  to 
season.  From  the  foregoing  examination  of  the  requisites 
desirable  in  the  material  of  money  it  is  easy  to  deduce  the 
"empirical  laws  which  the  history  of  money  discloses,  since 
metals,  as  compared  with  non-metallic  substances,  evidently 
possess  those  requisites  in  a  great  degree.  They  axe  all 
durable,  homogeneous,  divisible,  and  recognizable,  and  in 
virtue  of  these  superior  advantages  they  are  the  only 
substances  now  used  for  money  by  advanced  nations.  Nor 
is  the  case  different  when  the  decision  has  to  be  made 
between  the  different  metals.  Iron  has  been  rejected 
because  of  its  low  value  and  its  liability  to  rust,  lead  from 
its  extreme  softness,  and  tin  from  its  tendency  to  break. 
Both  these  roetab,  as  well  as  copper  also,  are  unsuitable 
from  their  low  value,  which  hinders  their  speedy  transmission 
so  as  to  adjust  inequalities  of  local  prices. 

The  elimination  of  these  metals  leaves  silver  and  gold  as 
theonlysuitablemateriaisfor  forming  Ihe  principal  currency. 
Of  late  years  there  has  been  a  movement  towards  the 
ado^jtioD  of  the  latter  as  the  sole  monetary  standard,  silver 
being  regarded  as  suitable  only  for  a  subsidiary  coinage. 
Indeed  this  question,  which  is  reserved  for  subsequent 
discussioUj  may  be  regarded  as  the  principal  matter  of 
controversy  in  the  field  of  metallic  currency.  The  special 
features  of  gold  and  silver  which  render  them  the  most 
suitable  materials  for  currency  may  here  be  noted.  "  The 
value  of  these  metals  changes  only  by  slow  degrees ;  they 
are  readily  divisible  into  any  number  of  parts  which  may 
b9  reunited  by  means  of  fusion  without  loss ;  they  do 
not  deteriorate  by  being  kept ;  their  firm  and  compact 
texture  makes  them  difficult  to  wear ;  their  cost  of  pro- 
duction, especially  of  gold,  is  so  considerable  that  they 
pDssess  great  value  in  small  bulk,  and  can  of  course  be 
transported  with  comparative  facility^  and  their  identity 
is  perfect."  *  The  possession  by  both  these  metals  of  all 
the  qualities  needed  in  money  is  more  briefly  but  forcibly 
put  by  CantiUon  when  he  says  that  "  gold  and  silver  alone 
are  of  small  volume,  of  equal  goodness,  easy  of  transport, 
divisible  without  loss,  easily  guarded,  beautiful  and  brUliant, 
and  durable  almost  to  eternity."^  This  view  has  even  been 
pushed  to  an  extreme  form  in  the  proposition  of  Turgot, 
that  they  became  universal  money  by  the  nature  and  force 
of  things,  independently  of  all  convention  and  law,  from 
which  the  deduction  has  been  drawn  that  to  proscribe  silver 
by  law  is  a  violation  of  the  nature  of  things.^ 

5.  Coinage:  its  Advantages,  and  ihe  Pnncipal  Questions 
connected  therewith. — The  development  of  monetary  systems 
has  now  been  traced  down  to  the  establishment  of  metallic 
(.urrencies.  These,  in  the  early  stages  of  their  existence, 
passed  by  weight.  The  Hebrew  records  jbear  witness  to 
this  fact,  as  also  do  the  Greek  writers.  A^iatotle,  fop  ex- 
ample, after  indicating  the  circumstances  which  led  to  the 
mvention  of  currency,  proceeds  to  point  out  that  it  was 
"afterwards  determined  in  value  by  men  putting  a  stamp 
upon  it,  in  order  that  it  mo-y  save  them  from  the  trouble 
of  weighing  it."  *     There  are  two  distinct  stages  in  the 


'  Enq/.  Brit.  (8tb  od.),  art.  "Money,"  vol.  xv.  p.  417. 
■  W.  S.  Jevona  in  the  Contemporary  Revieto,  January  1881.    See  also 
Lord  Liverpool,  Coins  of  the  Jtealm,  (Bank  of  England  reprint),  p.  10. 


1  Caimes,  Logical  ^fcthod  of  Pol,  Econ.,  p.  131,  note;  and  for 
FoH.'nev.,  July  1831, 


application  of  the  argument  to  Bimt'tallisi 


do  Laveleye, 


Pet,  i.    9,   S.     The  whole   passage   is  wou'uy  of  quotation,  as 
Bhowing  how  clearly  AristoUo  conceived  the  primary  fuoctlou  of 


introduction  of  coining.  In  the  first,  only  tne  quality  or 
fineness  of  the  metal  is  denoted  by  the  stamp,  no  attempt 
being  made  to  fix  the  weight.  Ill  other  words,  the  stamp 
acts  as  a  kind  of  hall-mark.  The  Chinese  cubes  of  gold 
may  have  been  the  earliest  money.  Herodotus  attributes 
the  first  use  of  coined  gold  and  silver  to  the  Lydians,'  while 
in  another  passage  he  mentions  that  the  first  Greek  coinage 
was  at  iEgina,  by  Pheidoil  of  Argos.^  The  second  step 
was  to  certify  the  weight  as  well  as  the  fineness  of  the 
metal,  thus  completing  the  invention.  The  necessity  of 
preventing  any  interference  with  the  coin  after  it  had  been 
stamped  led  to  the  adoption  of  a  regular  form,  and,  though 
hexagonal  or  octagonal  coins  are  to  be  found,  the  received 
shape  of  a  coin  is  that  of  a  fiat  circle,  each  side  of  which  ia 
stamped,  as  well  as  in  many  cases  the  edge.  By  this  con- 
trivance all  persons  into  whose  hands  the  coin  came  had  a 
guarantee  as  to  its  quahty  and  quantity,  and  we  may  reason- 
ably infer  that  the  great  improvement  in  coinage  among 
the  Grecian  colonies  was  the  eff'ect,  and  also  in  some  degree 
the  cause,  of  the  expansion  of  their  commerce  iji  the  6th 
century  B.C.  From  Greece  the  art  of  coining  spread  to 
Italy,  being  introduced  by  the  Greek  colonists  in  Lower 
Italy.  Since  then  coinage  as  an  art  has  always  existed  in 
the  more  advanced  societies.  The  progress  of  invention, 
however,  does  not  end  with  the  introduction  of  the  art  of 
coining,  since  a  number  of  practical  questions  arise  with 
reference  to  the  best  system  to  be  adopted,  which  for  a 
protracted  period  present  great  difficulties  to  those  who  are 
called  upon  to  solve  them.  One  of  these,  before  touched 
on,  is  ;  What  is  the  best  shape  for  coins !  The  answer  has 
finally  been  in  favour  of  the  circular,  but  square  and  oblong 
pieces  are  also  to  be  found.''  Closely  allied  with  this  is 
the  question  of  the  most  suitably  Ikajts  of  size.  The  in- 
ferior limit  is  plainly  fixed  by  the  convenience  of  those 
using  the  coins.  They  ought  not  to  be  so  small  "  that 
they  can  be  easily  lost,  or  can  with  difficulty  be  picked 
up."  '  Instances  of  violations  of  this  principle  occur  in  the 
case  of  the  English  threepenny  piece  and  the  American 
one-dollar  gold  piece.  The  superior  limit  is  a  more  difficult 
point.  Its  determination  turns  partly  on  the  difficulty  of 
coining  large  pieces,  and  partly  on  the  facilities  which  such 
large  coins  as  the  American  gold  double-eagle  give  for  im- 
proper treatment.-  It\is  an  easy  process  to  driU  holes, 
which  can  be  concealed  by  hammering,  VhUe  in  some  cases 
the  coin  has  been  sawn  -in  two,  and  the  interior  gold 
removed,  the  outside  surfaces  being  soldered  together,  while 
platinum  ia  put  in  the  midst  to  maintain  the  weight.  As 
a  general  rale  it  may  be  laid  down  that  no  gold  coin  much 
larger  than  the  English  sovereign,  or  silver  one  at  all  larger 
than  the  half-crown,  should  be  issued.  Another  considera- 
tion to  be  borne  in  mind  when  determining  the  proper 
size  of  coins  is  the  relative  amount  of  wear  which  takes 
place.  Experience  proves  that  large  coins  are  less  worn 
than  small  ones.  "  According  to  experiments  made  at  the 
mint  in  1833,  the  loss  per  cent,  per  annum  on  half-crowns 
is  about  2s.  6d.,  on  shillings,  4s.,  and  on  sixpences,  7s.  fid." 
This  result  has  been  confirmed  by  other  inquiries.  From 
this  it  follows  that  the  larger  coins  are  less  expensive,  but 
their  size  is  hmited  by  the  fear  of  their  being  tampered  ^ 
with.     Again,  the  character  of  the  stamp  to  be  impressed 


iiioDcy  :  5l6  irpb%  rds  dX\a7d5  Toiovrtiv  ri  cvvtdevro  jrpAj  atpai 
avToin  SiSiviu  «al  'Ka/iPireii',  S  t^p  xwtf'/'wi'  auri  ip  f^x^  T-j)* 
X/Jcfaf  tv/ieraxfipt'^rov  Trpi)i  t6  l^i)f,  ohv  ffi5i]poi  kclI  ipyvpos,  k&p  tt  Tt 
Toioi>roi'  Irtpov,  t4  liif  rpCiroy  dirXii  ipicrOip  liCfiOfi  Kal  trraS/i^,  ^i 
5*  reXfVTaiop  Kal  xapaicTTipcL  ijrifiaWiirruv,  Xna  iwoMaji  Trjt  /itTp^tm 

*  Herodotus,  i.  94. 

'  lb.  vi.  127.  See  also  for  a  discussion  of  Pheidon's  coinage, 
Grote,  kist.  of  Grace,  ii.  pp.  319  .-}.  (Cabinet  ed.). 

'  An  instance  of  the  latter  is  the  ilxilm  of  the  Japanese  coinage, 
•which  is  an  oblong  flat  piece  of  eilv<-r. 

'  Jcvons,  Money,  p.  155. 


MONEY 


725 


u  a'  matter  requiring  much  care.  The.  objects  aimed  at 
•  in  imposing  the  stamp  are  (1)  to  prevent  the  coin  being 
counterfeited,  and  (2)  to  prevent  any  of  the  metal  being 
abstracted.  The  former  of  these  objects  can  be  best  at- 
tained by  making  the  device  such  as  co.n  be  obtcincd  only 
by  pow'erful  and  expensi%'0  mat:i'.ncry.  The  most  improved 
methods  must  be  adopted,  and  the  greatest  pains  taken  to- 
have  the  device  perfectly  executed.  The  latest  improve- 
ment in  the  process  of  coining  is  the  introduction  of  the 
knee-joint  press.  The  latter  difficulty  is  best  obviated  by 
Tising  special  care  in  marking  the  edges  of  the  coins.  Ancient 
coins  were  issued  with  unstamped  edges  which  presented 
no  impediment  to  clipping,  but  modem  coins,  at  least  those 
of  any  size,  are  protected  by  the  edge  being  milled  or  by  a 
legend  being  inscribed  round  it.  The  combination  of  milled 
«dges  with  a  raised  legend  would  be  a  still  more  effectual 
means  of  protecting  the  coinage  from  interference. 

Another  matter  of  importance  in  the  process  of  coining 
is  the  nature  and  proportion  of  alloy  to  be  used.  The 
necessity  for  some  mixture  arises  from  the  fact  that  gold 
and  silver  are  both  naturaUy  soft,  and,  to  obviate  this,  cop- 
per has  been  mixed  with  them,  so  as  to.  produce  a  harder 
substance.  The  Austrian  ducat  is  the  nearest  approach  to 
purity  among  the  principal  coins  of  Europe,  being  com- 
posed of  seventy-one  parts  of  pure  gold  to  one  of  alloy. 
The  English  gold  coins  are  eleven-twelfths  pure  gold,  while 
the  silver  ones  are  thirty-seven-fortieths  pure  silver.  The 
origin  of  the  difference  is  purely  historical  The  general 
gold  proportion  is  nine-tenths  gold  to  one-tenth  alloy,  while 
in  some  coinages  the  proportion  of  silver  to  alloy  lb  nearly 
five  to  one,  the  countries  composing  the  Latin  Union 
having  adopted  that  proportion  in  order  to  reduce  their 
smaller  silver  coins  to  tokens.  Copper  is  the  usual  material 
for  alloying,  but  the  Melbourne  mint  used  silver  for  some 
time.  It  is  this  silvery  alloy  that  accounts  for  the  yellow 
appearance  of  many  Australian  sovereigns.  They,  however, 
are  rapidly  disappearing,  as  it  is  profitable  to  melt  them 
down.  It  has  been  mentioned  above  that  the  wear  of 
small  coins  ia  greater  than  that  of  large  ones,  and  it 
may  be  added  here  that  the  wear  of  coins  in  general  is  an 
important  question  in  connexion  with  their  legal  circula- 
tion. The  English  sovereign  is  believed  to  remain  above 
the  least  current  weight  for  from  fifteen  to  twenty  years. 
For  the  technical  processes  of  coining,  (tc,  reference  may  be 
^ade  to  the  article  Mint. 

The  next  topic  to  be  considered  is  :  Who  should  issue 
money?  In  the  earlier  stages  of  currency  the  question 
was  not  so  prominent,  but  the  establishment  of  coining 
brought  it  forward.  In  Greece  each  city  being  autono- 
mous claimed,  and  exercised  the  right  of  freely  coining  as  it 
desired,  the  coins  being,  of  course,  received  in  other  cjties 
only  at  their  real  value.  The  consequences  of  this  system 
were  generally  beneficial.  The  Greek  coins  were  usually 
up  to  their  nominal  value,  as  debased  coinage  was  imable 
to  circulate  beyond  the  place  of  issue,  and  therefore  ex- 
tremely inconvenient  to  the  members  of  the  state  issuing 
it.'  Under  the  Roman  republic  private  persons  were 
probably  allowed  to  bring  metal  to  be  coined,  though  the 
coins  seem  generally  to  have  had  the  name  of  one  of  the 
consuls  for  the  year  on  them.  Under  the  empire  the 
doctrine  became  established  that  the  right  of  coining  be- 
longed exclusively  to  the  emperor,  and  till  the  fall  of  the 
\Vestern  empire  this  was  acted  on.  After  the  establish- 
ment of  the  various  barbarian  kingdoms,  each  sovereign 
assumed  the  privilege  pf  coining,  a  right  which  in  France 
was  extended. to  or  rather  usurped  by  the  principal  nobles.^ 
In  England  th^  king  alone  coined  silver.^     At  present  the 


1-  See  Lenormant,  Contemp.  Jiev.,  February  1879. 

■  Hallam,  Middle  Ages,  L  pp.  205-206. 

•  Lord  Liverpool,  Coint  of  the  Seaim,  ch.  t. 


control  of  the  operations  of  the  mint  is  completely  in  the 
hands  of  the  executive  ;  and,  until  recently,  no  question  on 
theoretical  grounds  as  to  the  propriety  of  this  method  haa 
ever  been  raised.* 

In  clo;3  connexion  ■with  the  right  of  coining  comes 
the  consideration  as  to  the  proper  persons  to  bear  the 
expense  of  tije  process.  At  first  sight  the  answer  seems 
plain  enough.  Coins  are  a  manufactured  article  quite 
as  much  as  plate,  and  are  rendered  more  valuable  by 
being  assayed,  weighed,  and  certified.  It  appears  there- 
fpre  quite  proper  that  those  who  bring  metal  to  be 
coined  should  bear  the  expense  of  the  coinage,  or,  in 
other  words,  should  give  up  a  part  of  the  metal  to  the 
mint,  thus  paying  for  the  service  rendered  to  them  in  the 
same  manner  as  those  sending  letters  pay  the  postal  de- 
partment for  their  transmission.  This  course  has  been 
usually  adopted.  England,  however,  has  taken  a  different 
line.  In  order  to  encourage  the  coining  of  the  precious 
metals,  no  charge  was  made  at  the  mint  beyond  that  in- 
volved in  the  necessary  delay  in  the  operation  ;  aitd  this  is 
at  present  the  case  with  gold.  Though  this  arrangement 
was  originally  introduced  in  obedience  to  the  prejudices  of 
the  mercantile  system  which  regarded  gold  and  silver  as 
being  peculiarly  wealth,  it  may  be  defended  on  reasonable 
grounds :  for  (1)  ihe  expense  of  the  mint  is  very  small 
compared  with  the  amount  of  coin  turned  out,  and  (2)  the 
coins  produced  are  used  by  the  nation,  and  therefore  their 
expensd  may  quite  fairly  be  defrayed  from  the  national 
revenue.  Again,  as  the  profit  on  the  silver  coinage  (owing 
to  circumstances  to  be  subsequently  discussed)  is  large, 
that  may  be  set  off  against  the  free  coinage  of  gold.  The 
charge  levied  on  coining,'  if  confined  to  the  expenses  in- 
curred, is  called  brassage ;  if  it  is  anything  above  that  cost 
it  is  known  as  seigniorage,  which  latter  term  is  also  used 
to  denote  both  kinds  of  charge.  The  effect  of  seigniorage 
(using  the  term  in  its  more  extended  sense)  on  the  value 
of  coins  is  to  lower  them,  in  fact,  as  Tooke  has  put  it, 
seigniorage  is  always  a  kind  of  debasement,  unless  accom- 
panied with  limitation.^  If  the  same  quantity  of  metal  be 
in  circulation  there  will  be  a  greater  number  of  coins,  and 
therefore  nominal  prices  will  be  higher.  It  is,  however, 
possible  that  the  increased  prices  may  check  the  produc- 
tion of  the  precious  metals,  thus  making  the  value  of  the 
metal  higher  than  it  would  otherwise  be.  Whether  this 
will  happen  or  not  depends  on  the  actual  conditions  of 
production,  and  is  incapable  of  being  predicted.  One 
advantage  which  undoubte'dly  results  from  a  charge  on 
coinage  is  that  it  checks  the  tendency  to  melt  coin  when 
exported,  for  where  a  seigniorage  is  imposed  coins  are 
more  valuable  than  the  uncoined  metal  by  the  amount  of 
the  seigniorage.  It  therefore  becomes  the  interest  of  the 
holder  not  to  melt  down  the  coins,  as  in  doing  so  he  loses 
the  extra  value  given  by  the  coining.  Another  factor  in 
the  expense  of  ciurency  \a  the  loss  which  arises  from  the 
wear  and  tear  which  money  undergoes,  and  the  consequent 
cost  of  replacing  the  light  or  missing  pieces.  The  last  and 
largest  item  is  the  interest  on  the  total  amount  of  money  in 
use.  To  take  the  case  of  England,  the  value  of  the  metallic 
currency  is  estimated  at  about  .£1 30,000,000.     The  interest 


*  "  We  may  take  aa  an  example  the  function  {which  ia  a  monopoly 
too)  of  coining  money.  .  .  .  No  one,  even  of  those  most  jealous  of  state 
interference,  baa  objected  to  this  as  an  improper  exercise  of  the  powers 
of  government. "  Mill,  PWnc,  B.  v.  ch.  1,  §  2.  But  see,  for  objections, 
H.  Spencer,  Social  Slatia,  pp.  400-402,  and  J.  L.  Shadwell,  SysUm  o/ 
Pol.  Earn.,  p.  264. 

»  rooke,  Hist,  of  Prices,  L  121  sq.  It  is  impossible,  however,  to 
agree  with  Tooke  that  uncoined  bullion  would  be  higher  in  value 
than  coin  when  a  seigniorage  is  charged  on  the  latter.  He  seems  tt> 
ignore  the  fact  that  the  value  of  the  precious  metals  is  partly  depend- 
ent on  their  use  as  currency,  and  that  the  seigniorage  represents  a 
tax  levied  on  the  extra  value  resulting  from  the  use  of  the  metal  us 
money. 


72Jo 


MONEY 


on  this  at  5  per  cent,  wouldamount  to  £6,500,000.  This  ap- 
parently heavy  charge  is  justified  by  the  fact  that  it  is  desir- 
able to  have  a  currency  possessing,  or  at  least  based  on,  value. 
The  expense  of  a  metallic  currency  is,  however,  combined 
with  its  weight,  a  strong  reason  for  the  great  developments 
of  representative  money  and  credit  in  modern  times,  with 
the  result  that  gold  and  silver  are  hardly  ever  used  in  large 
domestic  transactions,  all  such  payments  being  made  by 
cheques,  which  are  cleared  off  against  one  another.  For  a 
full  account  of  the  modern  organization  of  credit,  see  the 
article  Banking. 

6.  Historical  Outline  of  Depreciations. — The  earliest  sy's- 
tems  of  currency  whose  progressive  debasements  it  is  possible 
in  any  degree  to  trace  are  those  of  the  various  Greek  states, 
though  even  here  many  details  remain  in  obscurity.  The 
Uoraan  currency  system  is  comparatively  better  kno^vn  ; 
while  for  the  medieeval  currencies  from  the  time  of  Charle- 
magne (800  A.D.)  elaborate  materials  are  available,  which 
naturally  increase  in  bulk  and  precision  as  we  approach 
more  modern  tunes.  The  general  treatment  of  the  history 
of  coins  belongs  to  Numismatics  (j.".)  ;  but  the  history 
of  monetary  depreciations  is  important  in  connexion  with 
the  theory  of  money  as  illustrating  the  value  of  sound 
economic  knowledge. 

Until  coinage  became  a  state  function  a  continued  debase- 
ment was  impossible,  since  it  was  open  to  any  one  to  refuse 
the  money  offered  in  payment  if  it  was  not  up  to  the  proper 
standard.  When,  however,  coinage  became  a  function  of 
government  strong  motives  for  debasement  soon  presented 
themselves.  (1)  The  cost  of  coinage  falling  on  the  state, 
and  being  generally  defrayed  by  a  seigniorage,  led  to  the 
idea  that  this  seigniorage  could  be  made  more  profitable 
by  making  it  larger,  while  the  existence  of  any  deduction 
veiled  the  injustice  of  a  charge  exceeding  the  expense 
incurred  in  the  operation  of  coining.  (2)  The  position  of 
most  Governments  was  that  of  debtors,  and  as  a  debasement 
favoured  all  debtors  at  the  expense  of  aU  creditors  it  was 
only  natural  that  rulers,  ignorant  of  the  ultimately  ruinous 
effects  of  a  series  of  debasements,  should  seek  to  relieve 
themselves  without  exciting  the  odium  incurred  by  the  levy 
of  heavy  taxes.  A  more  pressing  case  than  the  foregoing, 
and  one  where  more  justification  exists,  is  that  of  a  severe 
social  crisis,  when  large  numbers  of  the  community  are 
burdened  with  debt,  and  a  depreciation  of  the  monetary 
standard  seems  the  simplest  mode  of  escaping  from  so 
critical  a  situation.  Whatever  may  be  the  inducements 
to  enter  on  the  perilous  course  of  tampering  with  the 
monetary  standard,  a  long  experience  has  incontestably 
proved  its  disastrous  effects.  One  of  the  great  causes  of 
the  weakness  of  France  during  the  "  hundred  years'  war  " 
was  the  extremely  debased  state  of  its  currency,  and  the 
dread  of  further  reductions  in  the  value  of  the  coins.' 
Lord  Maeaulay  has  given  a  graphic  picture  of  the  evils 
which  England  suffered  from  its  depreciated  silver  currency 
towards  the  end  of  the  17th  century.^  And  a  debasement 
brought  about  by  design  possesses  a  further  clement  of  evil 
by  creating  a  belief  that  similar  devices  will  soon  be  again 
resorted  to.  So  manifest  are  the  evils  that  result  from 
debasement  that  it  may  bo  reasonably  hoped  that  all  civil- 
ized Governments  have  abandoned  the  practice  for  ever  ; 
though,  unfortunately,  similar  bad  effects  are  produced  by 
the  over-issue  of  inconvertible  pa]Tcr  currencies,  and  this  is 
still  an  expedient  adopted  under  the  pressure  of  dilliculties. 
"It  is  proper  to  observe  that  coins  may  be  debased  in 
three  different  ways — (1)  by  diminishing  the  quantity  or 
weight  of  the  metal  of  a  certain  standard  of  which  any  coin 
of  a  given  denomination  is  made ;  (2)  by  raising  the 
nominal  value  of  coins  of  a  given  weight  and  made  of  a 


'  J.  E.  T.  i:..:,. 
-  list.  o/K«.j., 


Ilislorical  Olcaiiings,  i.  p.  97. 


metal  of  a  certain  standard,  that  is,  by  making  them  current 
or  legal  tender  at  a  higher  rate  than  that  at  which  they 
passed  before  :  (3)  by  lowering  the  standard  or  fineness  of 
the  metal  of  which  coins  of  a  given  weight  and  denomina- 
tion are  made,  that  is,  by  diminishing  the  quantity  of  pure 
metal  and  proporti»nally  increasing  the  quantity  of  alloy." ' 
The  last  of  these  methods  is  the  most  dangerous,  since  the 
detection  of  it  is  more  ditEcult,  as  it  is  so  much  easier  to 
discover  the  weight  than  the  fineness  of  the  metal  in  a  coin  ; 
but  all  of  them  produce  the  same  results  and  are  adopted 
for  the  same  reason^. 

Gh-cel'  Dci'rcciaiioiis. — The  first  Jjbasoniont  of  coinage  known  tons 
on  good  evidence  is  that  of  the  Atlieuian  coinage  Irj-  Solon  in  694  B.C.* 
In  order  to  obviate  the  severe  dii^trjss  of  that  period  in  Attica,  he 
reduced  the  quantity  of  silver  in  the  coins  more  than  25  per  cent.,  so 
that  138  new  dra^h-nim  (the  standard  .'\  thcnian  coin)  were  only  equiva- 
lent to  100  pieces  of  the  older  coinage.  This  proceeding  was*perh3ps 
justified  by  the  critical  state  of  things  previously  existing,  and  wag  a 
decided  success.  It  is  probable  that  another  debasement  of  the 
gold  coinage  took  place  at  Athens  in  408  B.C.  during  the  strain  of 
the  Peloponnesian  War,  though  doubts  have  been  cast  on  the  reality 
of  this  debasement.'  It  may,  however,  be  said  that  generally  the 
Greek  cities  fairly  maintained  the  standard  of  money,  though  soliie 
states  were  notorious  for  dishonesty  in  this  respect.  The  existence 
of  an  electrum  coinage  is  no  proof  of  a  tendency  to  debasement, 
since  it  was  regarded  as  a  separate  substance,  and  issued  at  its  cost 
value,  allowing  for  the  expense  of  coining.  As  remarked  before,  this 
comparative  honesty  in  relation  to  the  coinage  may  be  partly 
explained  by  the  small  extent  of  the  Greek  states,  so  that  a  debased 
coinage  was  unable  to  circulate  beyond  the  boundaries  of  the 
issuing  state.  The  keen  perceptions  of  the  more  advanced  Greek 
thinkers  and  their  teachings  on  this  subject  may  have  also  con- 
tributed to  the  same  result.* 

Soman  Depreciatiojis. — The  earliest  Roman  coinage  was  com- 
posed of  an  alloy  of  copper  (sei),  and  this  continued  unaltered 
up  to  the  time  of  the  Fia'st  Punic  "U' ar.  Silver  was  introduced  in 
269  B.C.,  the  proportion  between  it  and  the  older  copper  being 
fixed  at  250 : 1.*  The  copper  cuiTency  was  first  debased  during  the 
Punic  wars  at  the  most  critical  period  of  the  Hannibalic  inva- 
sion— "  the  Romans  had  debased  the  silver  and  copper  coin,  raised 
the  legal  value  of  the  silver  currency  more  than  a  third,  aud  issued 
a  gold  coinage  far  above  the  value  of  the  metal."  ^  Soon  after  this 
period  the  copper  money,  whose  successive  debasements  are  recorded 
by  Pliny,^  seems  to  have  been  reduced  to  the  position  of  a  sub- 
sidiary currency,  so  that  it  is  not  really  a  case  of  debasement  of 
the  standard.  The  silver  dcTuirius  which  at  iiist  was  y'jd  of  a 
Roman  pound,  had  been  debased  to  -^th  of  a  pound.  In  91  B.C. 
a  number  of  plated  denarii  were  issued  at  the  rate  of  one  for  every 
seven  silver  pieces  issued.  This  proceeding,  which  was  simply  for 
political  purposes,  was  proposed  by  Drusus,  out  in  84  B.C.  a  proposal 
for  calling  in  these  plated  pieces  was  passed,  and  was  extremely 
popular.  It  is  probable  that  a  slight  debasement  took  place  under 
Sulla,  aud  one  of  the  Cornelian  laws  seems  to  state  the  so-called 
fiat  theory  of  money.  ^^  The  denarius  was  lowered  under  Nero  to 
5^th  of  a  pound,  while  the  later  period  of  the  empire  is  a  scene  of 
continual  tampering  with  the  currency.  The  gold  aurcxts  was  at 
fii'st  -jVth  of  a  pound,  but  at  the  time  of  Augustus  it  was  only  ^sth, 
while  under  Constautine  it  had  come  to  be  only  T^jd.  The  com- 
parison of  Hellenic  with  Roman  monetary  history  seems  to  sho.w 
that  a  considerable  number  of  small  states,  all  issuing  coins,  are 
less  likely  to  meddle  with  the  standard  than  the  mint  of  a  single 
large  empire.  It  also  proves  the  value  of  an  acouaintanca  with 
monetary  theory,  if  we  can  judge  by  contrasting  the  views  of  tho 
Greek  thinkers  with  those  of  the  Roman  lawyers."  A  few  words  of 
caution  may  here  be  added  against  the  danger  of  a  careless  com- 
parison of  values,  as  expressed  in  ancient  or  even  mediieval  money 
with  those  of  modern  times.     It  is  exti'emely  hai'd  to  accept  the 


'  Lord  Liverpool,  Coins  of  the  Rcalvl,  p.  37. 

*  Grote,  I{ist.  o/' Greece,  part  ii.  cb.  11. 

'  Ik,  vol.  iii.  p.  116,  note  1. 

'  For  a  full  discussion  of  this  point  see  Lenormant  in  Conttmp. 
Rev.,  February  1879. 

'  Mommsen,  Uist.  of  Rmn.  (Eng.  trans.),  i.  p.  458. 

«  Tb.,  ii.  p.  173. 

»  II.  N.,  xxiiii.  ch.  13. 

'"  Mommsen,  iii.  pp.  413-414  ;  Lenonnant,  op.  cit. 

**  Compare,  for  instance,  the  passage  previously  cited  from  Aristotle 
with  the  following ; — "Quia  non  semper  nee  facile  coucurrebat  ut,  cum 
tn  haberes  quod  ego  desiderarem,  invicem  haberem  quod  tu  accipere 
velles,  electa  materia  est  cujus  publica  ac  perpetua  sstimatio  difficul- 
tatibus  pcriuutationum  scquulitatc  qu.iutitatis  subvcniret ;  caque 
materia  fornin  publica  percussa  usiiin  douiiniuuique  non  tatii  el 
(lubstAlltia  prxbel  qnam  ex  quautiutc." — Paulus,  Iti'j.^  xviiL  1,  1. 


MONEY 


727 


prices  given  hy  any  uucienc  writer,  Bince  the  varying  factors  neces- 
sary to  be  estimated  are  so  many,  viz.,  (1)  the  weight  of  the  coin, 
(2)  its  purity,  (3)  the  value  of  the  monetary  metal  at  the  time, 

(4)  the  value  of  the  commodity  sold  in  relation  to  other  things, 

(5)  the  question  whether  the  commodity  was  iu  its  normal  state  as 
regards  supply  and  demand  ;  to  all  these  may  be  added  (6)  the 
ditlicultj-  of  determining  whether  the  figured  have  not  been  altered. ' 
After  the  fall  of  the  Western  empire,  the  various  barbarian  sove- 
reigns adopted  silver  as  their  principal  coinage,  combined  with 
the  greatest  diversity  in  the  systems  adopted.  On  the  revival  of 
the  empire  under  Charlemagne  an  effort  was  inade  by  him  to  estab- 
lish a  general  system  of  currency,  based  on  the  silver  pound  as  a 
unit,  and  thns  corresponding  to  the  unit  of  weight.  This  system 
was  introduced  into  England,  and  thence  into  Scotland,  but  the 
rapid  decay  of  the  Carlovingian  empire  prevented  any  uniformity 
being  preserved  in  these  different  countries,  while  the  different 
debasements  in  each  produced  widely  divergent  systems,  which 
will  retiuire  separate  notice. 

E.iglish  Depreciations. — The  first  debasement  undergone  by  the 
English  silver  coinage  was  in  1300,  when  Edward  I.  reduced  the 
amount  of  metal  in  the  coins  by  1^^  per  cent.,  or,  in  other  words, 
20  shillings  and  3  pence  were  coined  out  of  the  Tower  pound 
instead  of  20  shillings  as  previously.'  This  was  the  prelude  to  a 
series  of  changes  which  were  carried  out  during  the  next  three  cen- 
turies, and  which  terminated  in  1600,  when  the  pound  troy  of 
silver  was  coined  into  62  shillings ;  since  that  time  the  silver  coinage 
ias  not  been  debased,  the  reduction  carried  out  in  1816,  by  which 
66  shillings  were  coined  from  the  troy  pound,  being  accompanied 
by  a  limitation  of  its  use  in  discharging  debts  to  a  maximum 
amount  of  £2,  as  well  as  by  the  abolition  of  the  public  right  of 
coining  silver  at  the  mint.  The  period  extending  from  34th  Henry 
VIII.  to  6th  Edward  VI.  (1543-1552)  has  been  specially  noted  by 
Lord  Liverpool  as  a  time  of  peculiar  interference  with  the  fineness 
of  the  metal.*  The  old  proportion  of  11  oz.  2  dwts.  of  metal  to 
18  dwts.  of  alloy,  was  altered  to  10  oz.  of  metal  per  pound,  then 
to  6  oz.  or  one-half,  4  oz.  or  one-third,  and  finally  in  1551  to  3 
oz.  of  pure  metal  and  9  oz.  of  alloy.  A  tendency  to  reformation 
began  under  Edward  VI. ,  and  was  finally  carried  out  under  Eliza- 
beth in  the  recoinage  of  1560,  which  has  been  fully  described  by 
Mr  Fvoude.*  Various  proposals  to  depreciate  the  silver  currency 
have  been  made  since  then,  and  one  of  these,  as  above  mentioned. 
Was  accepted  in  1600.  The  most  remarkable  of  the  unsuccessful 
schemes  tor  debasing  the  standard  was  that  of  Lowndes,  which 
was  advanced  in  1695,  when  the  discussions  preparatory  to  the 
recoinage  of  1696  were  being  carried  on.  Lowndes's  plan  was  to 
coin  the  pound  troy  of  standard  silver  into  773.  6d. ,  thus  debas- 
ing it  25  per  cent.  Ho  was  resisted  by  Locke,  who,  in  his  Further 
Coitaidtrntions  concemitig  Fiaising  the  Value  of  Money,  contri- 
buted materially  to  the  development  of  monetary  theory;  and 
the  recoinage  was,  mainly  in  consequence  of  his  efforts,  in  combina- 
tion with  those  of  Newton  and  Montague,  based  on  thoroughly 
sound  principles.'  -  The  first  English  gold  coinage,  so  far  as  lias 
been  cle.irly  proved,  was  that  of  1257,  in  the  reign  of  Henry  III., 
wlien  a  small  number  of  o:old  pennies  were  coined  at  the  ratio  of 
10  to  1  to  the  existing  silver  coins.  Previously  to  this  date  the 
need  of  gold  for  business  transactions  could  not  have  been  felt,  as 
the  commerce  of  the  country  was  necessaiily  limited.  It  is  prob- 
able that  for  the  few  transactions  of  foreign  trade  a  species  of 
gold  coins  issued  by  the  Greek  emperors  at  Constantinople,  and 
thence  called  by^aiUs,  were  used.*  Another  gold  coin,  known  as  a 
fioroice,  fiom  the  place  where  it  was  fii-st  coined,  was  also  used 
after  1250.  The  regular  series  of  English  gold  coinage  begins  in 
1344,  when  Edward  III.  coined,  in  imitation  of  the  foreign  coin 
just  mentioned,  a  large  number  of  florins  «t  the  rate  of  50  to  the 
f  ower  pound.  The  gold  coinage  was,  however,  for  a  long  period  a 
secondary  part  of  tho  monetary  system,  and  suffered  a  series  of 
changes,  the  last  of  which  took  place  in  1717.'  Tile  present  English 
coinage  system  is  regulated  by  the  Coinage  Act  of  1870,'  which 
amends  and  consolidates  previous  Acts  on  the  subject.  Tlie  schedule 
to  that  Act,  which  is  reproduced  at  p.  4S4  of  the  present  volume, 
gives  full  information  as  to  existing  coins,  their  weight,  fineness, 
"'remedy,"  &c.  ^    - 

Scotch  pcprcci,u!ons.—The  coinage  of  Scotland  was  derived  from 
the  primitive  Carlovingian  system  through  the  medium  of  England, 
and  for  a  long  period  remained  the  same  as  at  first.     The  pressure 


>  As  to  the  varioas  eleraents  requisite  for  a  proper  estimate  of  medieval 
JjTices.  lee  Cibririo,  Delia  LcoHOmia  Potitica  del  Medio  Era,  1.  iiu  c.  S, 
•  i  The  Tower  pound,  which  was  three-quarters  of  an  or.  troyless  than  the 
troy  pound,  was  used  in  England  until  the  ISlh  of  Henry  VIII.  (15'2T),  when  it 
WIS  replaced  by  the  troy  weiglit.  This  should  be  al«'a)'s  remembered  in  con- 
sidering the  precise  amount  of  depreciation  st  any  given  time. 

«  Coiiu  o/Ihe  Sealm,  ch.  liii.  «  Hisi.  o/Eiij.,  vii.  p.  !. 

5  Uacaulay's  account  of  this  recoinnje.  which  is  written  in  his  ti-pical  man- 
ner, has  made  this  episode  of  English  monetarj-  history  very  generally  known 

•  Lord  Liverpool,  Coins  of  the  Realm,  p.  47. 

'  The  third  great  English  recoinage  was  that  of  tho  50H  coin,  which  took 
Vlace  in  1773-1775.    It  is  Commonly  known  aa  the  recolaage  of  1774 

«  S3  A  .;4  Vic.  c  10. 


under  which  the  resonrccs  of  Scotland  sutferea  during  the  constant 
wars  with  England,  as  well  as  perhaps  the  example  of  their  close 
ally  France,  led  the  Scottish  sovei-eigns  to  debase  their  coins  out  of 
all  proportion  to  the  English  system.  This  was  the  reison  for  the 
prohibition  of  Scotch  coins  as  currency  6y  tale  in  England,  the 
variation  in  course  of  time  being  so  great  that  in  1600  the  pound 
of  silver,  which  contained  about  three  pounds  sterling  English,  was 
made  into  thirty-six  pounds  Scotch,  the  latter  being  thus  twelve 
times  as  much  debased.  After  the  union  of  the  cro»-ns  in  1603 
no  steps  were  taken  to  assimilate  the  two  systems,  which  con- 
tinued as  before  till  the  complete  union  of  the  two  countries  in  1707.' 
At  the  latter  date  a  complete  recoinage  on  the  basis  of  the  English 
system  was  canied  out,  thus  rendering  the  coinage  of  both  coun- 
tries exactly  similar.  This  most  valuably  reform  was  at  first  viewed 
with  suspicion  by  the  Scotch  people,  and  a  large  amount  of  the 
old  Scotch  currency  was  hoarded  or  exported. 

Irish  Depreciations. — No  coined  money  existed  in  Ireland  before 
the  English  invasion  in  1170.  The  English  colony,  aa  a  matter 
of  course,  used  the  same  coinage  as  the  taother-country,  but  on 
several  occasions  inferior  money  was  introduced,  as  being  good 
enough  for  a  subject  country.  At  the  recoinage  of  1560  it  was  pro- 
posed to  send  the  bad  coins  that  were  called  in  to  Ireland,  but  to 
this  Elizabeth  refused  to  assent.  From  1689  to  1825  the  nominal 
value  of  the  coinage  was  8J  per  cent,  higher  in  Ireland  than  in 
England.  In  the  latter  year  Irish  money  was  reduced  to  the 
English  standard,*  from  which  time  the  United  Kingdom  has  pos- 
sessed a  perfectly  uniform  system  oi  metallic  money.  ■- -H 

French  Depreciations. — The  monetaiy  system  established  by 
Charlemagne  throughout  his  dominions  soon  disappeared  in  Italy 
and  the  German  provinces.  It  continued  to  exist  in  France  proper. 
The  general  state  of  confusion,  however,  and  the  weakness  of  the 
central  authority,  led  to  local  issues  by  the  various  feudal  loi-ds. 
"At  the  accession  of  Hugh  Capet  as  many  as  a  hundred  and  fifty 
are  said  to  have  exercised  this  power.  '">  The  increase  of  the  power 
of  the  Capetian  kings  enabled  them  to  restiict  this  freedom  of 
coinage,  and  to  reserve  to  themselves  this  profitable  function,  the 
seigniorage  on  the  process  of  coining  being  a  special  branch  of  the 
royal  revenue.  They  were  unfortunately  not  inclined  to  confine 
their  gains  to  this  legitimate  source.  The  French  coinage  was 
recklessly  debased  duiing  the  many  centuries  from  Philip  I.  (06. 
1108)  to  Louis  XV.  (ob.  1774).  The  management  of  the  mint 
under  Louis  IX.  was  always  regarded  as  a  model  for  imitation," 
but  even  in  his  time  the  livre,  originally  a  pound,  was  debased  to 
less  than  one-fourth  of  its  primitive  value.  The  dealings  i\ith  the 
cunency  were  still  more  unscrupulous  during  the  protracted  wars 
n-ith  England,  the  result  being  that  at  the  acces.«ion  of  Louis  XI. 
(1461),  when  the  English  had  been  finally  expelled  from  France, 
the  livre  was  only  about  one-fifteenth  of  its  original  value.  Nor 
did  the  depreciation  of  the  cunency  rest  here.  The  period  of 
something  over  a  century,  extending  from  1497  to  1602,  presents  a 
remarkable  series  of  changes  in  a  downward  direction,  no  less 
than  nineteen  depreciations  having  taken  place,  many  of  them 
consisting  of  changes  in  the  fineness  of  the  metal.'"  There  is  in  this 
respect  a  remarkable  analogy  between  this  epoch  01  French  coinage 
and  the  English  period  from  1543  to  1552. 

The  history  of  French  depreciations  did  not  terminate,  as  that 
of  the  English  ones  did,  with  the  close  of  the  16th  century  ;  nnder 
Louis  XIV.  the  livre  was  only  one-half  of  what  it  had  been  undei 
Henry  IV.  The  final  Tesult  was  that  in  1789  the  livre  had  come 
to  be  only  one  seventy-eighth  of  its  weight  in  the  time  of  Charle- 
magne. At  the  Revolution  it  was  converted  into  the  franc,  at 
the  rats  of  81  livres  to  80  francs."  It  is  not,  however,  to  be 
supposed  that  the  changes  in  the  French  currency  were  always 
towards  debasement.  The  terrible  evils  arising  from  the  debased 
coinage  led  to  a  general  outcry,  which  in' some  cases  was  so  strong 
as  to  force  the  king  of  the  time  to  reform  the  monetary  standard  ; 
one  striking  instance  occun-ed  in  the  reign  of  Philip  IV.,"  whost 
dealings  with  the  currency  led  to  his  receiving  the  epithet  of  "le 
faux  monnoyeur." 

Depreciations  in  other  Countries.  —  The  very  brief  notice  of  the 
depreciations  in  the  originally  uniform  currencies  of  England  and 
France  which  has  just  been  ^vcn  is  sufficient  to  establish  the 
general  tendency,  and  throws  light  enough  on  the  resulting  conse* 
quences  ;  a  similar  course  was  followed  in  the  other  countries  of 
Europe,  but  the  details  are  too  unconnected  to  be  conveniently  pre- 
sented. A  few  facts  will  suffice.  Thus,  the  Gennan  florin  "wa« 
originally  a  gold  coin  of  the  value  of  about  10  shillings  of  our 
pre-sent  money  ;  it  is  now  become  a  silver  cohi  of  the  value  of 


*  A  survival  of  this  older  system  is  to  be  found  in  many  charges  on  Irish 
lands,  which  are  reduced  to  English  money  by  deducting  one-thirteenth  fruol 
the  nominal  amount. 

l»  Hallam.  iliJJle  Agti,  i.  p.  206. 

11  Stephen,  Ucluret  on  French  History,  I.  p.  459.^ 

12  Tooke  and  Newniarch,  Hisr.  of  Prices,  vol.  tL'  p.'  374.  The  views  there 
given  are  based  on  those  of  M.  Levasseur,  who  had  specially  studied  the 
question. 

13  The  silver  franc  was  made  to  weigh  exactly  &  grammtt, 
"  Stephen,  i»cl.  on  Tmch  Uin.,  i.  p.  481 

y 


728 


MONEY 


ci:Iy  20J. " '  Similar  dejireciations  took  place  in  the  cases  of  the 
Sj|anish  mamvcdi  and  '  >  Portuguese  rei.  At  the  present  these 
coins  are  so  suborilinate,  ,\-here  they  have  not  been  abolished,  aa  to 
jiossess  little  practical  imprest. 

It  is  well  to  notice  before  concluding  the  question  of 
depreciations  tLat  it  is  the  poorer  classes  who  especially 
suffer  from  a  change  in  the  coinage.  The  reasons  of  this 
are  very  plain,  for  from  their  ignorajice  they  are  less  able  to 
understand  the  nature  of  the  alteration,  and,  even  if  it  were 
not  so,  the  absence  of  available  resources  places  them  at  a 
disadvantage  in  comparison  with  others.  Masters  and 
dealers  are  quick  to  discount — so  to  speak — the  nominal 
value  of  the  depreciated  money,  and  prices  are  much  more 
speedily  adjusted  to  the  new  state  than  wages,  so  that  it 
may  be  confidently  asserted  that  a  debased  coinage  is 
especially  injurious  to  the  more  helpless  classes  of  society. 
The  same  remark  appUes  to  an  over-issue  of  inconvertible 
i  Daper.^ 

7.  Economic  Aspects  of  the  Production  of  the  Precious 
jyletah. — In  considering  various  monetary  questions  it  is 
essential  to  have  some  acquaintance  with  the  economic 
aspects  of  the  production  of  gold  and  silver.  The  technical 
matters  connected  with  the  processes  of  preparing  those 
metab  for  use  aro  to  be  found  in  the  articles  Gold  and 
Silver  (q.v.).  The  first  point  to  which  we  will  here  direct 
attention  is  the  field  over  which  production  extends. 
At  one  time  or  other  these  two  metals  have  been  found 
in  every  continent.  Asia  Minor  in  early  times  possessed 
its  gold  fields,  or  rather  auriferous  sands.^  Ceylon  also 
undoubtedly  contained  gold  mines.  China  and  India 
both  produced  silver  to  a  considerable  extent.  Egyptian 
remains  show  that  gold  was  commonly  known  in  that 
country,  probably  procured  from  Nubia  and  Abyssinia. 
On  the  opposite  side  of  Africa,  too,  the  name  of  Gold 
Coast  shows  that  that  metal  was  thence  exported.  Neither 
Asia  nor  Africa,  however,  has  been  the  main  contributor 
to  the  stock  of  money  in  more  modem  times.  The 
mines  of  Lauriura  in  Attica  were  a  source  of  supply  to 
the  Greeks,  and  were  worked  as  a  state  monopoly.  At  an 
earlier  date  the  Babylonian  and  Assyrian  empires  had 
each  large  accumulated  stores  of  gold.  The  Phoenician 
importations  of  gold  from  the  Red  Sea  coasts  (Ophir)  are 
kno-n-n  from  Scripture.^  The  Persian  kings  from  the  time 
of  Darius  levied  tribute  on  all  their  provinces, — in  gold 
from  India,  in  silver  from  the  remaining  districts ;  and 
the  larger  part  of  this  was  stored  up  in  the  royal  treasuries.* 
This  tendency  of  sovereigns  to  accumulate  had  all  through 
ancient  history  important  eflTects  on  the  economic  structure 
of  society.  At  present  it  is  quite  natural  to  assume  that  the 
materials  of  money  are  distributed  by  means  of  international 
trade,  and  tend  to  keep  at  an  equal  level  all  the  world 
over, — an  assumption  which  is  in  general  well  grounded, 
though  an  important  exception  exists.  Ancient  history 
presents  a  widely  different  set  of  forces  in  operation.  Gold 
and  silver  were  produced  by  slaves  under  the  pressure  of 
fear,  and  were  drawn  towards  the  ruling  parts  of  the  .great 
empires ;  in  a  word,  war,  not  commerce,  was  the  distribut- 
ing agency.  From  thi-i  condition  of  affairs  it  is  easy  to  see 
tliat  whatever  may  be  the  reasons  for  assigning  to  cost  of 
production  a  potent  iiiducuce  over  the  value  of  money  in 
modem  times  (and  grounds  have  been  already  advanced 
for  the  belief  that  this  influence  has  been  exaggerated),  no 
such  reasons  then  existed.     The  production  of  the  precious 


'  Lord  Lirerpool,  Coins  of  the  Realm,  p.  125. 

*  Readers  requiring  full  details  on  the  subject  of  the  various  currency 
changes  may  coaault  Lcnormant,  Monnaie  dans  V AntiquiU,  for 
ancient  times  ;  Lord  Liverpool,  Coin*  of  the  Realm,  for  England  ;  and 
the  works  of  Le  Blanc  and  Paiicton  for  France. 

'  The  Pactolua  in  Lydia  was  widely  famed  for  its  "  golden  sands." 

•*  1  Kings  ii.  23. 

^  See  Horodotvu,  Ui.  c.  £6  ;  also  Grots,  IliJ.,  iv.  pp.  162  si. 


metals  waa  carried  on,  as  the  great  buildings  and  other 
works  of  those  periods,  on  non-economic  grounds,  and 
therefore  produced  quite  different  effects.  The  whole  his- 
tory of  the  Persian  monarchy  to  its  overthrow  by  Alexander 
(330  B.C.)  shows  that  the  mass  of  the  precious  metals 
hoarded  up  continued  constantly  to  increase.  On  the  cap- 
ture of  Persepolis  by  the  Grecian  army  an  enormous  treasure 
was  found  there,  some  estimates  placing  it  as  high  as 
120,000  talents  of  gold  and  silver  (£27,600,000).°  All 
the  temples,  too;  were  receptacles  for  the  precious  metals,  so 
that  the  stock  accumidated  at  about  300  B.C.  must  have 
been  very  great.  The  only  causes  which  tended  to  diminish 
the  store  were  the  losses  arising  from  wars,  when  the  various 
treasuries  were  liable  to  be  plundered  and  their  contents  dis- 
persed.^ There  was  therefore  a  more  imequal  distribution  of 
the  material  of  money  than  at  present.  The  growth  of  the 
Eoman  dominion  led  to  important  results,  since  under  their 
rule  the  Spanish  mines  were  developed  and  became  a  leading 
source  of  supply.  The  great  masses  of  treasm-e  set  towards 
Rome,  so  that  it  became  the  monetary  centre  of  the  world. 
The  overthrow  of  the  Republican  govenmient  and  the 
peace  which  followed  also  affected  the  conditions  of  pro- 
duction. The  inefficiency  of  the  Roman  administration 
made  it  advantageous  to  let  out  the  mines  to  farmers,  who 
.  orked  them  in  a  wasteful  and  improvident  manner,  while 
the  supply  of  slaves  was  reduced,  thus  depriving  the  lessees 
of  their  principal  agency  for  carrying  on  production.  The 
result  was  a  continuous  decline  in  the  store  of  money.  Mr 
Jacob  has  made  an  attempt  to  estimate  the  amount  at  the 
death  of  Augustus  (14  a.d.),  and  he  arrives  at  the  conclu- 
sion that  it  was  £358,000,000.'  Without  placing  much 
value  on  this  necessarily  conjectural  estimate,  it  is  safe  to 
a.ssume  that  this  period  marked  the  hisbest  point  of  accu- 
mulation. 

The  succeeding  centtiries  exhibit  a  steady  decline,  though 
it  is  of  course  impossible  to  attach  any  value  to  even  the 
most  carefully-guarded  numerical  estimates.  The  pheno- 
menon which  has  since  so  often  attracted  notice — the  drain 
of  the  precious  metals  to  the  East — began  at  this  time, 
and  was  a  subject  of  complaint  to  the  Roman  writers,* 
whUe  the  stock  of  gold  and  silver  being  thrown  into 
more  general  circulation  suffered  more  from  abrasion,  and 
was  more  likely  to  be  lost  than  when  stored  up  in  the 
royal  treasure-houses  and  temples.  These  causes  tended 
to  depress  the  scale  of  prices,  while  the  barbarian  Inva- 
sions produced  a  strong  effect  on  the  supply  by  drawling 
off  the  mining  population  and  damaging  the  various  erec- 
tions used  for  working  the  mines.  The  conjectural  esti- 
mate is,  that  about  800  a.d.  the  total  supply  had  been 
reduced  to  £33,000,000  (or  about  one-eleventh  of  what 
it  had  been  at  the  death  of  Augustus).'"  A  new  j*riod 
in  the  historj'  of  gold  and  silver  production  may  be  fixed 
at  this  date.  The  Moors,  now  firmly  established  in 
Spain,  began  to  reopen  the  mines  in  that  country  which 
had  been  allowed  to  fall  into  disuse.  Other  European 
mines  also  were  opened."  The  international  system  of 
currency  based  on  the  pound  of  silver  as  a  unit  which  was 
introduced  by  Charlemagne  must  have  tended  to  economize 
the  wear  of  the  metals.  We  may  therefore  conclude  that 
from  this  date  (800  A.D.)  the  supply  was  suflScient  to  coun- 


•  Grote,  xi.  p.  409,  note  3. 

'  A  commercial  agency  which  existed  for  the  distribution  of  goU 
and  silver  was  the  Pb<en-  '  system  of  t'Tiding,  which  extended  all 
over  the  Mediterranean. 

*  Jacob,  Production  and  Con$vmption  of  the  Precious  Metate^  i. 
p.  224 

»  See  Pliny,  U.  If.,  xii.  c.  18.  "  Jacob,  L  p.  235. 

"  It  was  at  this  time  that  the  most  productive  European  mines 
were  discovci-ed,  namely,  those  of  Saxony  and  the  Hara  Mountains,  aa 
well  as  the  .\ustrian  mules  ■which  were  the  chief  sources  of  sapply 
during  the  Middle  .ig-.:u 


MONEY 


729 


tera't  the  l«ss  by  wear  and  exportation,'  and  accordingly 
regard  the  metallic  supjily  as  axed  in  antount  until  the 
next  change  in  the  conditions  of  production;  which  was 
the  res'.ilt  of  the  discovery  of  America.  Though  1492  is 
the  dato  of  the  first  lauding,  yet  for  some  time  no  im- 
portant additions  wore  made  to  the  supply  of  n.oney. 
The  conquest  of  Mexico  (1519)  gave  opportunities  of 
working  the  silver  mines  of  that  country,  while  the  first 
mines  of  Ciiili  and  Peru  were  almost  simultaneously 
discovered,  and  in  1545  those  of  Potcsi  were  laid  open. 
From  this  latter  date  we  may  regard  the  American  supply 

Ta^le  I. — EstiiiiaUd  produelim  of  gold  and  siher/roin  1493. 


1 

.... 

Amonst  in  Kilos. 

Valui!  In  Millions 
of  Fran(rs. 

Ratio  of 
Value  of 

Period. 

Teai-s. 

0-5M  to 

Ooia. 

Silver. 

Gold. 

SOver. 

SUvcr. 

1493-IJ20 

28 

162,400 

1,316.000 

560 

292 

lis 

1521-1544 

24 

171,800 

2.105,000 

592 

481 

11-2 

154i-15S» 

SO 

273,000 

io,9,«,oao 

940 

2.439 

11-5 

1581-1000 

20 

147,600 

8,.>i78,000 

iOS 

\M-2 

11-9 

)601-K20 

20 

170,400 

8,,,:<ooo 

587 

l.SSO 

13-0 

1621-1(140 

20 

166,000 

7,S72.0«0 

672 

1,749 

13-4 

1C41-1000 

20 

175,400 

7,526,000 

601 

1,628 

ue 

1(161-1080 

20 

185,200 

6,.  40.000 

638    ■ 

1,498 

14-7 

1081-1700 

20 

215,300 

0,S38.000 

742    . 

1,500 

15-0 

1701-1720 

20 

250,400 

7.112.000 

883     , 

1,580 

15-2 

,  1721-1740 

20 

881.000 

8..124,000 

1.314 

1,9!C 

16-1 

1741-1760 

20 

492.200 

lO.AS.OOO 

1,095     1 

2,370 

14-8 

17Cl-'780 

'.0 

4i4,:Ki 

13.115-..000 

1.436    1 

2,900 

14-1 

1781-1800 

20 

35^600 

17..-81,000 

1,228    • 

3,906 

15-1 

1801-lSlO 

10 

177,800 

8,1M2,000 

612     . 

1,087 

15-6 

ISll-lSiO 

10 

114,400 

6,408,000 

394     1 

1,202 

15-5 

182I-1S:10 

10 

142,200 

4,ooi.ooo 

490     1 

1,023 

15-5 

18:11-1840 

10 

202,900 

5,961.000 

099 

1,325 

15-7 

1841-1850 

10 

6^7.600 

7.804.000 

1.881    , 

1,734 

15-8 

1851-1855 

6 

9S7,6JI 

4,431.000 

3,402 

985 

15-4 

1850-1860 

i 

1,030,000 

4..,w,(i00 

3,549 

l.OOG 

15-3 

18iil-18«5 

5 

925,000 

5,506.0.-0 

3.188    : 

1,223 

154 

16.-.(>-1870 

5 

959,500 

0.005.000 

3,305 

1.488 

U-6 

18T1-1875 

853.400 

9,847.000 

2,040  ; 

2.18? 

16-0 

1876 

171.700 

2.305.000 

59!  J, 

62S-5 

17-8 

1877 

162,800 

2.42S.O00 

629-8, 

539-5 

1719 

1878 

183.700 

i.oli^.OOO 

632-6 1 

578-3 

17-96 

,         1876 

156,900 

2,557.000 

640-3: 

508-2 

18-39 

1876-1879 

4 

695,100 

9,953.000 

2,394     1 

2,211 

17-40 

1    149S-18.i0 

358 

4,752,100 

149,828.000 

16.308 

33,292 

14 -Oi 

1851-1879 

29 

5,451,200 

40,;'57.000 

18,778 

9,101 

15-85 

!    149S-1879 

387 

10,203,300 

190.765,000 

35,144 

42,393 

as  an  influential  factor  in  the  matter,^  and  look  upon  the 
stock  of  money  as  increasing.  The  annual  addition  to  the 
store  of  money  has  been  estimated  as  £2,100,000  for  the 
period  from  1545  to  1600.  At  this  date  the  Brazilian 
supply  began.  The  course  of  distribution  of  these  fresh 
masses  of  the  precious  metals  is  an  interesting  point, 
which  has  been  studied  by  Jlr  Cliffe  Leslie.^  The  flow  of 
the  new  supplies  was  first  towards  Spain  and  Portugal,  and 
from  thence  they  passed  to  the  larger  commercial  centres 
of  the  other  European  countries,  the  effect  being  that 
prices  were  raised  in  and  aboQt  the  chief  towns,  while  the 
value  of  money  in  the  country  districts  remiined  unaltered. 
The  additions  to  the  supply  of  both  gold  and  silver  during 
the  two  centuries  1600-1600  continued  to  be  very  consider- 
able ;  but,  if  Adam  Smith's  view  be  correct,  the  full  efl'ect 
on  prices  was  produced  by  1640,''  and  the  increased  amount 
of  money  was  from  that  time  counterbalanced  by  the  wider 
extension  of  trade.^  At  the  commencement  of  this  cen- 
tury, the  annual  production  of  gold  has  been  estimated 
as  being  from  £2,500,000  to  £3,000,000.  The  year  1S09 
ieems  to  mark  an  epoch  in  the  production  of  these  metals, 
since  the  outbreak  of  the  revolts  of  the  various  Spanish 


'  Jai-ob,  i.  p.  311. 

-  Adi.ta  Smith  asjtnmes  1570  an  the  date  when  prices  were  affectcfl 
in  En5l.-\':.l,  Wi^ltli  of  Xatims.  p.  88.  Huraboldt  estimated  the  total 
prodni-tion  (1492-16451  as  being  about  £17,000,000;  but  see  Table 
I.,  which  contains  Dr  Sotbeer's  estimates,  based  oa  the  best  available 
data. 

•  J^sfvt  IK  Fcl.  and  Uor.  Phil.,  Essay  xx. 
«■  ICjoi/A  or  Xdtimis.  p.  88. 

•  The  total  production  is  ir>ii!rhly  computed  at  over  £1,200,000,000  I 
\o*  the  two  oeuturiea  1600-1800  j  but  see  Table  I.  f(x  i>:ore  precise  ' 
ctttoiateff.  I 


dependencies  in  South  America  tended  to  check  the  usual 
supply  from  those  countries,  and-  a  marked  increase  in  the' 
value  of  money  was  the  consequence.  Duiing  the  period 
1809-1849  the  value  of  gold  and  silver  rose  Xr  about  two 
and  a  half  times  their  former  level,  notwithstanding  fresh 
discoveries  in  Asiatic  Eussia.°  The  annual  yield  in  1 849  was 
estimated  at  £8,000,000.  The  next  important  da,te  for 
fiur  present  purpose  is  the  year  1848,  when  the  Calif orniaii 
mines  were  opened,  while  in  IS.tI  the  Australian  discoveries 
took  place.  By  these  events  an  enormous  mass  of  gold 
was  added  to  the  world's  supply.  The  most  careful 
estimates  fix  the  addition  during  the  years  1851-1871  at 
£500,000,000,  or  an  amount  nearly  equal  to  the  former 
stock  in  existence.  The  problems  r^.iaocl  by  this  phen(jJ 
menon  have  received  the  most  careful  study  by  several 
distinguished  economists,'  to  whose  writings  those  desiring 
more  extensive  information  may  refer.  The  main  features  of 
interest  may  be  briefly  summed  up..  (1)  The  additional 
supi>ly  wa.<i  almost  entirely  of  ffoUl,  thus  tending  to  produce 
a  distinction  between  the  two  p:-inci]ial  monetary  metal^ 
and  an  alteration  in  the  currency  of  bimetallic  coiuitriesj 
Under  this  influence  France,  from  being  a  silver-u.sing,' 
became  a  gold-using,  country.  (2)  The  contempora-j 
neous  development  of  the  Continental  railway  systems, 
and  the  partial  adoption  of  free  trade,  with  the  con-^ 
sequent  facilities  for  freer  circulation  of  commodities,  led 
to  the  course  of  distribution  being  difierent  from  that 
of  the  16th  century.  The  more  backward  districts  wer^ 
the  principal  gainers,  and  a  more  general  equalization  of 
prices  combined  with  a  slight  elevation  in  value  was  the 
outcome.  (2)  The  increased  supply  of  gold  rendered  a 
general  currency  reform  possible,  and  made  :be  use  of  a  gold 
monometallic  standard  appear  feasible.  The  movements 
for  currency  reform,  as  will  be  seen,  all  arose  after  these 
discoveries.  (4)  The  change  in  the  value  of  money,  which' 
may  for  the  period  1849-1869  be  fixed  at  20  per  cent.J 
enabled  a  general  increase  of  wages  to  be  carried  out,  thus 
improving  the  condition  of  the  classes  living  on  manua-l 
labour.  It  may  be  added  that  the  difliculty  of  tracing  the 
effects  of  this  great  addition  to  the  money  stock  is  a  most 
striking  proof  of  the  complexity  of  modem  economic 
development.  (5)  The  last  point  to  be  noticed  is  the  very 
small  influence  exercised  on  the  value  of  silver  by  the  new 
gold."  Hardly  had  the  gold  discoveries  of  1848-1851 
ceased  to  jiroduce  a  decided  effect  when  new  sih'er  mines 
of  unusual  fertility  came  into  working.  During  the  period 
immediately  succeeding  the  gold  discoveries  the  produc- 
tion of  silver  remained  at  an  annual  amount  of  from 
£8,000,000  to  £9,000,000.  This  amount  suddcnlv, 
about  1870,  increased  to  £15,000,000,'"  and  remained  i<' 
that  amount  for  tlie  next  five  years.  More  than  half  c5 
the  supply  came  from  new  mines  oi)ened  in  Nevadp 
This  increased  supply  was  accompanied  by  a  marke,-' 
depreciation  :»  tlie  j;olJ  pi  ice  of  silver,  though  the  price.s 
of  commodities  in  countries  having  a  silver  standard  did 
not  rise.  The  result  of  the  close  investigations  to  which 
all  aspects  of  the  question  were  subjected  was  to  show 
that  the  increased  pr(3duction  of  silver  was  only  a  minor 
element  in  causing  its  depreciation.  The  policy  pursued 
by  various  states — viz.,  (1)  Glrmany  and  the  Scandinavian 


•  Tlie  Russian  supply  became  important  after  1823.  ^ 

"  The  following  may  be  specially  consulted : — Chev-ilier.  DepT'ciatioa 
of  Gold  (traus.  by  Cobden) ;  Tooke  and  Newmarch,  Uist.  of  Prktt, 
vol.  vi.,fp.  135-236  (Part  vii.);  aiticle  "Precious  Metals,"  .SJK-y.  Dril. 
{8th  E>1.) ;  J.  E.  Diirnes,  Ksmya  in  Pol.  Econ.,  pp.  1-165;  T.  B.  C. 
Leslie,  Essoya,  pp.  264-374  ;  W.  S.  Jevons,  Serious  pidl  in  the  Valxtt 
of  Gold. 

'  The  price  of  silver  in  Loudon  rose  from  59Jd.  per  oz.  to  62M.  per 
02.,  or  25d.  per  oz. — that  ia,  only  3  to  4  per  cenu 

»  See  P.eport  of  Select  Committee  on  the  Silver  Qlfestiou,  1876  ;  tuii 
for  another  estimate  see  Table  L 


730 


MONEY 


states  in  adopting  a  single  gold  standard,  (2)  the 
•eountiies  compoaing  tlie  Latin  Union  in  limiting  the 
■coinage  of  silver,  (3)  the  Indian  Government  by 
adopting  a  new  method  of  drawing  bills — proved  to  be  the 
really  influential  causes  for  the  decline  in  the  value  of 
silver  as  contrasted  with  gold.^ 

Before  closing  this  notice  of  the  economical  aspects  of  gold  and 
silver  production,  the  consumption  of  those  metals  must  be  con- 
sidered. It  may  be  classed  roughly  under  three  heads,  viz.,  (1) 
their  use  as  merchandise,  (2)  their  use  as  money,  (3)  the  export  to 
the  East.  With  regard  to  the  first  of  these,  while  it  is  impossible 
to  give  precise  data,  it  may  be  still  held  with  some  confidence  that 
the  demand  for  this  purpose  tends,  after  society  has  passed  a  certain 
not  very  advanced  stage,  to  declijie.  The  desire  for  personal  adorn- 
ment is  with  most  civilized  persons  not  a  strong  one.  It  is,  so  far 
as  it  exists,  gratified  by  other  articles  than  those  made  of  silver  or 
gold.  Their  use  as  manufactured  goods  continues  to  be  large,  and 
is  one  of  the  principal  forms  of  use  at  present.  The  second  head 
with  which  we  have  here  to  deal  is  the  one  by  which  prices  are 
affected.  The  laws  regulating  the  value  of  the  metals  as  money 
have  been  considered  above,  p.  721,  the  primary  one  being  "that 
the  value  of  money  varies  inversely  as  its  quantity  multiplied  by 
its  efficiency,"  though  this  proposition  needs  limitation  and  explana- 
tion. Under  the  tliird  head  a  remarkable  exception  occurs  to  the 
general  theory  of  the  tendency  to  equal  diffusion  of  the  precious 
metals.  For  a  peiiod  extending  over  nearly  2000  years  the  move- 
ment of  silver  fiom  West  to  East  has  been  noticed.  Humboldt  has 
made  the  ingenious  remark  that  these  metals  move  in  the  opposite 
direction  to  civilization,  and  history  bears  out  his  view.  During 
the  Middle  Ages  the  chief  Eastern  products  used  in  Europe  were 
silks  and  spices,  and  to  pay  for  these  commodities  silver  was  sent 
from  Europe.  The  discover}-  of  the  passage  round  the  Cape  of 
Good  Hope  increased  the  Eastern  trade,  and  added  to  the  drain  of 
silver.  Humboldt  and  Sotbeer  have  given  copious  details.  In 
more  recent  times  the  flow  has  continued,  the  amount  of  silver 
■which  passed  to  Asia  by  the  Isthmus  of  Suez  during  the  twelve 
years  from  1S51  to  1862  being  £110,000,000.2  There  are  two  points 
requiring  some  further  notice  with  reference  to  the  form  and  the 
reason  for  this  drain.  SUver  is  the  metal  which  is  exported  from 
Europe,  since  gold  is  not  used  for  currency  puriioses  in  the  East, 
and  even  as  merchandise  silver  possesses  a  higher  relative  value 
than  it  does  in  Europe.  Those  European  countries  that  had  a 
double  standard  were  the  natural  source  of  supply  for  exportation, 
their  silver  currency  being  replaced  by  gold.  The  unceasing  drain 
of  the  precious  metals  to  the  East  may  further  be  explained  by  the 
fact  that  the  greater  part  of  the  new  metal  is  used  for  ornamental 
aiid  not  for  currency  purposes,  and  thus  the  demand  is  not  checked 
by  a  rise  of  prices.  Another  reason,  not  generally  noticed,  is  that 
Eastern  prices  are  very  much  influenced  by  custom,  and  thus  de 
not  depend  on  supply  and  demand.  But  it  is  this  tendency  of  an 
increased  quantity  of  money  to  raise  prices  which  forms  the  basis 
•of  the  economical  theory  of  the  distribution  of  the  precious  metals.^ 
This  explains  the  otherwise  unaccountable  phenomenon  of  a  con- 
tinual drain  of  the  money  material  towards  those  countries  where 
custom  has  remained  most  powerful  in  regard  to  commercial  trans- 
actions, or,  in  other  words,  the  bacluvard  countries  of  India  and 
China. 

One  of  the  technical  features  of  the  profluction  of  the  precious 
metals  may  sometimes  produce  remarkable  economic  effects, — 
Tiamely,  the  fact  that  gold  is  generally  found  near  the  surface,  while 
■iilver  is  obtained  by  deep  mining.  It  follows  from  this  that  the 
production  of  the  farmer  metal  depends  more  on  accidental  circum- 
stances, while  the  production  of  silver  is  affected  chiefly  by  the 
f.tate  of  mechanical  skill.  In  the  Nevada  mines  gold  and  silver 
are-  found  together,  and  their  value  in  a  given  mass  is  nearly  equal. 

8.  Miscellaneous  Questions  regarding  Metallic  Money. — 
The  recent  discussions  of  matters  relating  to  currency,  and 
the  increased  intercourse  among  the  more  advanced  nations, 
have  led  to  the  raising  of  some  questions  with  regard  to 
the  proper  constitution  of  monetary  systems.  Each  country 
possessing  any  claim  to  enKghtenment  has  directed  its 
attention  to  its  o^vn  monetary  arrangements,  and  compared 
them  with  those  of  others,  while  the  effect  which  the  cur- 
rency system  of  any  nation  exercises  on  its  neighbours  leads 
1o  the  exciting  of  a  lively  interest  in  its  monetary  legisla- 
tion.    The  principal  problems  may  be  summed  up  under 


'  See,  for  details,  the  Report  of  Mr  Goschen's  Committee,  1876,  and 
■\V.  Bagehot,  Papers  on  the  Drprmntwn  of  Silver. 

'  See  A.  SStbeer  in  the  vierleljahrscilr.  f\ir  rMmfirlhsch.,  iii., 
i36S. 

'  See  Ricardo,  Principles  of  Pol.  Econ.,  p.  79  {ed.  M'CuUoch). 


three  heads:  (1)  The  proper  standard  to  use,  the  discussion 
of  which  in  practice  turns  on  the  comparative  merits  of  a 
single  standard  of  gold  or  silver  and  of  a  double  standard 
of  gold  and  silver  at  a  fixed  ratio  ;  (2)  the  system  of  sub- 
dividing the  currency,  which  is  generally  discussed  under 
the  title  of  proposals  for  decimal  coinage ;  (3)  proposals 
made  in  many  quarters  to  assimilate  the  various  currency 
systems  of  the  world.  These  take  one  of  two  forms. 
It  is  either  desired  that  a  group  of  nations  shall  assimilate 
their  currencies,  in  which  case  the  coinage  may  be  called  an 
international  one ;  or  a  wider  view  is  taken,  and  a  single 
system  is  advocated  for  all  states.  This  may  be  styled 
universal  coinage.  The  question  of  the  proper  standard 
may  be  deferred  for  the  present,  as  it  is  of  a  more  complex 
nature  than  the  others.  Before  discussing  even  the  simpler 
of  these  questions  it  is  desirable  to  state  some  elementary 
facts  involved  in  all  such  points.  Every  currency  system 
must  be  based  on  a  standard  unit  of  value  which  consists 
of  a  "  fixed  quantity  of  some  concrete  substance  defined  by 
reference  to  the  units  of  weight  or  space."  Thus  the 
English  unit  is  the  pound,  which  consists  of  a  definite 
quantity  of  gold  (123-27447  grs.  standard  fineness),  while 
the  French  unit  is  the  franc  (composed  of  5  grammes  of 
silver  Aths  fine).  It  is  not,  however,  necessary  that  the 
standard  unit  shall  be  a  coin.  All  that  is  needful  is  that 
the  current  coins  shall  be  multiples  or  submidtiples  of  the 
unit,  or  at  all  events  easily  reducible  to  it.  The  Portu- 
guese rei  is  too  small  to  be  coiiied,  and  the  pound  of  silver 
which  formed  the  unit  of  the  early  French  and  English 
currency  was  too  large.  Distinct  from  both  the  actual 
coins  and  the  unit  of  value  is  the  moyiey  of  account,  though 
in  practice  it  is  usually  identical  with  one  of  them.  In 
Russia  in  early  times  the  rouble  was  an  imaginary  money 
of  account  not  coined,  while  the  copper  copeck  was  the  unit 
of  value.  Another  distinction  must  be  pointed  out,  namely, 
that  between  standard  and  token  money,  the  former  being 
of  the  same  value  as  the  metal  it  is  made  of,  while  the  latter 
is  rated  kl  a  nominal  value  higher  than  that  of  its  material  i 
The  silver  and  copper  coins  in  England  and  the  smaller 
silver  coins  in  the  Latin  Union  are  merely  tokens,  being  in 
the  case  of  the  English  silver  coins  about  30  per  cent,  below 
their  nominal  value.  The  French  coins  are  of  inferior 
fineness  (835  per  1000).  Token  coins  are  only  admissible 
in  small  payments,  as  otherwise — in  accordance  with  an  ele- 
mentary principle  to  be  presently  explained — the  standard 
coins  would  be  driven  out  of  circulation.  The  maxirauni 
amount  in  payment  for  which  they  are  legal  tender  is  in 
England  40s.  One  of  the  functions  of  money  being  to 
afford  a  standard  for  estimating  deferred  payments,^  it 
is  generally  used  as  the  means  of  discharging  obligations 
when  they  become  due,  and  in  this  aspect  is  styled  leaal 
tender.  The  principal  coinage  of  any  country  is  legal  tender 
to  an  unlimited  amount,  and,  when  oflfered,  discharges  any 
pecuniary  obligation.  It  is  only  the  standard  coinage  which 
possesses  this  property,  or  rather  the  standard  coinage  is 
that  which  does  possess  it. 

In  discussing  monetary  questions  it  is  also  important  to 
remember  that  a  metallic  currency  has  to  circulate  among 
the  most  diverse  classes  of  society,  and  must  he  suited  to 
the  wants,  and  even  to  the  prejudices,  of  the  population 
using  it.  Many  curious  instances  of  the  preference  of  a 
community  for  some  particular  coin  couldbe  given.  The 
Austrian  Maria  Theresa  dollar  is  a  special  favourite  on  the 
coast  of  Africa,  and  is  still  coined  exactly  as  it  was  in  1780. 
The  inhabitants  of  California  refused  to  accept  the  green- 
backs issued  during  the  American  civil  war,  and  conse- 
quently gold  was  always  used  in  payments  in  that  State. 
Many   apparently   well-devised   reforms   have   miscarried 


See  p.  720,  abov 


M  0  W   E   Y 


731 


vwing  to  £belia1>it3  of  the  people  not  having  been  attended 
to.  Some  Avritcrs  have,  however,  misconceived  the  prin- 
ciples of  currency  ar.d  extended  tLia  influence  to  cases 
where  it  does  not  ;.lip!y.  Tims  it  has  been  sought  to  explain 
the  adoption  of  gold  as  the  principal  Eni;iis.h  coinage  after 
1696  by  assuming  that  the  English  deliberately  preferred 
that  metal.'  The  fact  of  different  nations  possessing  dif- 
ferent currencies,  as  the  prevalence  of  gold  in  England  and 
of  silver  in  France  during  the  18th  century,  is  to  be  other- 
wise accounted  for.  The  great  mass  of  a  population,  it  is 
true,  take  and  give  money  without  particularly  observing 
it.  It  is  enough  if  the  coin  conforms  to  the  usual  type. 
There  exists,  however,  in  all  mercantile  communities  a  class 
of  dealers  in  money  ^  who  make  a  profit  by  selecting  the 
best  coins  for  exportation,  or,  if  two  metals  are  in  conctirrent 
use,  the  coins  of  that  metal  which  is  undervalued  in  the 
proportion  fixed.  The  mode  in  which  self-interest  thus 
■operates  produces  an  effect  which  may  be  briefly  formulated 
by  saying  that  bad  money  drives  out  good  money.  It  is 
often  now  called  "  Gresham's  law,"  from  a  former  master  of 
the  English  mint,^  who  observed  it.  The  illustrations  of 
its  working  are  numerous.  Under  its  action  the  gold  which 
■was  overvalued  relatively  to  silver  in  England  in  1696 
became  the  main  English  coinage,  as  above  stated.  And 
in  order  to  meet  the  want  of  silver  coins.  Sir  I.  Newton 
advocated,  and  secured,  the  reduction  of  the  guinea  from 
21s.  6d.  to  21s.  The  exportation  of  metallic  money  when 
an  over-issue  of  inconvertible  paper  takes  place  is  another 
case  of  the  theorem.  By  means  of  this  principle  we  can 
easily  explain  the  tendency  of  currency  to  depreciation,  for 
when  once,  either  by  wear  or  by  the  issue  of  inferior  coins, 
■a,  currency  has  become  debased,  no  reformation  is  possible 
unless  the  debased  coins  are  removed  from  circulation,  as 
otherwise  they  will  be  preferred  for  payments  by  dealers, 
and  wiU  not  be  melted  down  or  exported.  All  demands  for 
foreign  trade  will  be  met  from  the  best  part  of  the  coinage. 
An  argument  in  favour  of  state  coinage  has  been  founded 
on  Gresham's  law.  It  is  argued  that  private  coinage 
would  lead  to  the  issue  of  depreciated  money.*  It  is, 
however,  overlooked  in  this  argument  that  the  action  of 
the  law  arises  from  the  fact  that  the  depreciated  ciurency 
is  legal  tender ;  were  it  not  so,  coins  less  than  the  proper 
weight  would  be  at  once  rejected.  It  may  be  added  that 
Greek  monetary  history  bears  out  this  view.' 

Having  disposed  of  these  elementary  questions,  the 
general  groups  into  which  all  currency  systems  fall  may  now 
be  stated.  The  simplest  form  of  currency  seems  to  be  that 
in  which  the  state  coins  ingots  ,of  different  metals,  and 
allows  them  to  circulate  freely,  without  any  ratio  being 
fixed.  This,  which  is  the  lowest  form  of  currency  proper,' 
has  arisen  in  malny  countries  through  the  introduction  of 
coins  of  various  other  nations.  Turkey  is  a  European 
example.  Many  of  the  South  American  republics  possess 
a  currency  of  this  description.  A  theoretical  form  of  this 
system  has  been  advocated  in  France.  It  is  proposed  to 
issue  coins  of  one,  two,  five,  and  ten  grammes  of  gold,  and 
to  allow  the  present  silver  coins  which  are  multiples  of  the 
gramme  to  circulate  along  with  them.  The  difficulties  of 
this  plan  are  so  obvious  that  there  is  no  likelihood  of  its 
being  adopted.     The  arguments  in  its  favour  are  of  little 


'  R.  Giffen,  Etsays  in  Fiiianct,  p.  303. 

^  The  Jewish  aud  Lombard  niercliauts  discharged  this  function  in 
the  medioival  period  ;  Hallam,  Middle  Ages,  iii,  p.  369,  note  t. 

'  Aristophanes  {Ran.  719-733)  appears  to  recognize  tliis  principle. 
Orote  (vol.  iii.  116  note)  has  misunderstood  him,  aud  seems  to  deny 
"the  principle  stated. 

*  Jevons,  .Voiiei/,  p.  82.  •  See  p.  726,  above. 

'  In  his  discussion  of  this  subject  Prof.  Jevons,  on  whose  excellent 
■work  much  of  Ibis  section  is  based,  mentions  currency  by  weight  as 
th«  simplest  form,  but  it  is  hardly  correct  to  regard  this  as  a  currency 
•jatem  ;  it  is  rither  a  primitive  stage,  closely  akin  to  bartor. 


force,  sijice  it  is  hardly  correct  to  contend  that  it  is  a 
natural  system,  when  it  has  never  been  ivillingly  adopted  by 
any  country.  The  next  system  to  be  noticed  is  that  of  a 
single  metal  being  fixed  as  legal  tender.  This  in  early 
times  is  the  really  natural  arrangement,  and  has  been 
widely  adopted.  It  is  needless  to  recapitulate  the  instances 
which  have  already  been  given  in  dealing  with  other 
matters.  There  is,  however,  a  difficulty  which  soon  arises 
under  this  system.  If  the  metal  chosen  is  not  very 
valuable,  it  is  toe  cimibrous  for  large  payments ;  if,  on  the 
other  hand,  it  possesses  a  high  value,  it  is  hard  to  coin 
pieces  suitable  for  small  transactions.  Thus,  even  silver 
would  be  too  bulky  for  such  payments  as  frequently  occur. 
£100  in  silver  at  its  present  value  would  weigh  nearly  40 
ft),  while  it  would  be  impossible  to  coin  gold  pieces  of 
the  value  of  a  penny  or  even  a  shilling.  This  system  thus 
naturally  leads  to  the  use  of  other  metals  besides  the 
standard  one,  and  when  the  state  fixes  the  ratio  between 
the; '.  metals  a  new  system  has  come  into  existence,  which 
has  oeen  called  the  inultiple  tender  system.  In  it  the 
ratios  between  the  metals  are  fixed,  either  once  for  all,  or 
until  changed  by  state  authority.  This  system  was  in 
force  in  England  from  1257  (or  rather  1344)  to  1664, 
the  ratio  between  gold  and  silver  being  fixed  from  time  to 
time  by  proclamation.  France,  too,  adopted  it  during  the 
Revolution,  the  ratio  of  15 J  to  1  being  that  fixeci  between 
gold  and  silver.  The  fluctuation  of  currencies  arranged 
on  this  method,  o\ving  to  the  action  of  Gresham's  law,  has 
led  in  England  and  Germany  to  a  modified  sj'sten,  which 
seeks  to  combine  any  advantages  of  the  multiple  standard 
with  the  principle  of  the  single  standard.  By  this  method 
one  metal  is  fixed  as  the  principal  legal  tender,  while  the 
smaller  coins  are  made  of  a  less  valuable  material,  and 
circulated  at  a  nominal  value  somewhat  above  their  real 
one,  or,  in  other  words,  as  token  coins,  but  they  are  only 
legal  tender  to  a  limited  amount.  This  has  been  called 
the  composite  legal  tender  system.' 

For  further  details  reference  may  be  made  to  Tables  IT.  and  III., 
and  the  notes  appended.  Every  currency  system  requires  the  exist- 
ence of  subsidiaiy  coins,  and,  as  stated  before,  this  want  is  mi:t  by  using 
a  less  valuable  metal,  generally  silver,  and  for  smaller  payments 
copper  or  bronze.  But,  apart  from  the  question  of  the  taaterial  of 
the  smaller  coins,  it  is  important  to  determine  the  best  rat  .o  between 
them.  The  simplest  of  all  would  be  the  binary.  In  it  each  coin 
would  be  the  half  of  the  next  highest  one,  and  double  the  one  imme- 
diately below  it.  Nothing,  apparently,  is  plainer  or  simpler  than 
this  scale,  but  the  objection  to  it  is  the  gi-eat  number  of  coins  that 
would  be  required,  as  well  as  the  want  of  conformity  mth  the 
general  arithmetical  scale.  In  a  modified  form  it  does  prevail  in 
many  countries.  Thus  in  England  we  have  the  penny,  h&lf-pcnny, 
&i\d.  farthing.  At  a  higher  stage  we  have  the  Jlorin,  shilling,  six- 
penny piece,  and  threepenny  piece,  and,  again,  the  sover:ign,  half- 
sovereig^i,  fvC'Shilling  piece,^  and  half-crown.  The  coiniiges  of  the 
Latin  and  Scandinavian  Unions,  as  also  those  of  Germaiy  and  the 
United  States,  have  several  binary  series  in  their  coins.*  There  is, 
however,  no  completely  binary  system  known.  The  old  English 
soale  was  partly  duodecivuil,  and  the  argiiments  in  favoiir  of  this 
aiTangement  are  by  no  means  weak.  At  present  the  shilling  is 
duodecimally  divided.  It  is  urged  in  favour  of  this  scale  that  the 
main  divisions  of  time  (year  and  month,  day  and  hoxi,  are  duo- 
decimally related,  and  that  time  is  one  of  the  elements  in  all 
questions  of  value.  ^*  Another  argument  is  tliat  12  is  capable  of 
being  resolved  into  several  factors  (2  aud  6,  3  and  4),  a  ad  therefore 


'  This  system  came  into  existence  in  England  accident:illy,  through 
silver  being  overv.ilued  by  the  mint  regulations,  but  i".s  theoretical 
basis  was  given  by  the  often-quoted  worlc  of  T/Ord  Liviirpool,  Coins 
of  the  Realm  (1805),  which  contains  even  now  the  best  eiplanation  of 
its  principles. 

^  This  piece  is  now  almosv  extinct. 

•  For  ■  instance,  the  20-fraiic,  lO-franc,  and  5-fran(;  pieces,  and, 
again,  2-franc,  l-franc,  and  60-centime  pieces  in  France,  he. ;  20-kroner 
and  io-krouer  pieces,  and  4-kroner,  2-kroner,  1-kronj,  50-6re,  and 
25-(;re  pieces  in  Denmark,  &c. ;  20-,  10-,  and  5-mark  piec.'s,  and  2-mark, 
1-niark,  and  50-pfennige  pieces  in  Germany  ;  while  th'!  tJnited  St-itts 
have  eagle,  half-eagle,  and  quarter-eagle,  and  also  dol  ar,  half-doUar, 
and  quarter-dollar. 
'"  See  S.  L.ning.  Kotes  of  a  Traveller,  pp.  57-59 


1732 


MONEY 


enables  &  large  series  of  coins  to  be  formed.^  The  main  reason, 
liowover,  for  the  adoption  of  a  duodecimal  system  appears  to  have 
been  tho  preference  for  the  number  12  so  frequently  sliowu  by  early 
sooictics  ;  thus,  amon^  the  Semitic  races,  the  Jews  were  organized 
in  12  tribes,  and  in  Italy  the  Etruscan  league  consisted  of  two 
j,Toups,  each  of  12  cities.  In  connexion  with  this  it  may  be  noted 
that  a  duodecimal  system  of  currency  prevailed  south  of  the  Apen- 
nines. At  Rome  the  as  was  divided  into  12  uncim.  The  modern 
tendency,  however,  has  been  to  adopt  a  decimal  scale.  This  method 
of  notation,  which  is  found  very  widely  in  use  amon-^  savage  tribes, 
is  undoubtedly  derived  from  the  ten' lingers  of  the  human  hands. 
Though  the  base  10  is  not  so  convenient  as  12,  it  is  firmly  established 
as  tijo  only  system  of  counting,  and  is  in  process  of  extension  to 

1  iT.  R.  SrCulloch  m  Ency.  Brit.,  art.  "Money,"  voL  xv.  p.  431  (Sthed.). 


weighing  and  measuring.*  For  the  purposes  of  currency  this  scalff 
is  not  very  convenient,  as  10  can  be  only  resolved  into  two  factors 
(2  and  5),  and  one  of  these  is  a  rather  liigh  number.  This  dis- 
advantage has  i-etaixled  the  adoption  of  decimal  coinage,  and  is  the 
base  of  the  objections  made  to  it.  It  has  been  contended  that  it  is 
unsuitable  for  small  purchased,  and  for  such  fractions  as  one-third,* 
France  adopted  the  decimal  system  of  coinage  in  1799,  and  it  has 
now  extcadcd  over  all  the  countries  of  the  Latin  Union  (see  Table 
II.).  It  is  also  in  use  in  Germany,  Denmark,  Sweden  and  Non\-ay, 
the  Netlierlands,  and  Finland,  as  well  as  in  the  United  States.  But 
none  of  these  countries  has  a  decimal  coinage  piu-e  and  simple.     In- 


'Tlic  Coinage  Systems  of  CoiUi-nental  Europe,  exhibiting  the  gold  ajid  silver  coins,  their  weight,  Jl-nenes^,  remedy,  and 
approximate  value  in  English  and  United  States  motley. 


Rein. 

Appro:(iniate 

Rem. 

Approicimate 

i 

li 

p.  1000 

Moiicyjalae. 

i 

Is 

p.  1000 

Money  Value. 

Coins. 

1 
1 

1 

4J 
1 

1 

Coins. 

1 

S  a 

n 

i 

^ 

1§ 

II 

Si 

~ 

- 

AUSTRIA.HUN0AEV-1_ 

&  s.  d. 

0  c. 

Netherlands  6— 

£  s.  d. 

i  c 

100  KreiitzcT        8  Gulden  piece 

Gold 

6-45161 

900- 

12- 

2-6 

0  16  10 

3  86 

100  Ctnls  =  1     10  Gollder  piece 

Gold 

6-730 

900- 

1-6 

2- 

0  16    6 

4  2 

=  \aiiUitn       4 

3-22530 

900- 

2- 

2-5 

0    7  11 

1  93 

GuiUcT.            6 

3-31J0 

900- 

1-5 

2- 

0    8    3 

2     1 

2        >,          >, 

Silver  24  ■6914 

900- 

2- 

2-5 

0    3  11 

0  96 

2! 

Silver 

25- 

945- 

2-6 

2-5 

0    4     2 

1     0 

J 

,, 

12-3457 

900- 

2- 

2-5 

0    1  llj   0  48 

I 

jj 

10- 

945- 

2-5 

2-510    1     8-1 
2-5J6    0  10 

0  40 

SO  Kreutzer  11 

J, 

5-3419 

520- 

2- 

2-6 

0    0     6J    0  12 

{ 

6- 

945- 

2-5 

0  20 

2-666 

500- 

2- 

2-5 

0    0    4j    0  ID 

25  Cents   

3-575 

640- 

2-5 

2-5 

0    0    5 

0  10 

10       „ 

1-666 

400- 

2- 

2-5 

0    0     2g    0     5 

10     „       

5     

1-400 
0-C85 

640- 
640- 

.-5 
2-5 

2-5 
J -5 

0    0    2 
0    0     1 

0    4 
0    2 

Beloicm-     See  France. 

NoEWiT.    See  Denmark. 
Portugal*— 

Denmark  9— 

1000  Reis  =  l      Crovm  or  $10-000 

Gold 

17-735 

916-666 

2- 

2- 

2    4    5 

10  80 

,100t^e  =  l         20  Kroner  piece 

Gold 

8-9C0572 

900- 

1-5 

1-6 

12     1      6  30 

Milrci.    Half-crown  or  $5  000 

8-867 

916-666 

2- 

2- 

1     2     21 

5  40 

Krone,            10 

4-4S02S6 

900- 

1-6 

2- 

0  11     01    2  68 

One-fifth  Crown  or  §2  OOO 

3-647 

910-666 

2- 

2- 

0    8  10 

2  16 

2 

Silver 

15-000 

800- 

3- 

3- 

0     2     23   0  63 

One-tenth  Cjown  or  $1-000 

1-773 

916-666 

2- 

2- 

0    4    6 

1    8 

1  R'one      „ 
50  Ore  piece 

7-SOO 
5  000 

soo- 
600- 

3- 
3- 

3- 
3- 

0     1     Ij    0  27 
0     0    6j    0  13 

SOORele 

Silver 

12-500 

916-666 

2- 

3- 

0    2    2) 

0  64 

40        

4-00O 

600- 

3- 

3- 

0     0     6J    0  10 

200    , 

5-000 

916-666 

2- 

3- 

0    0  lOj 

0  21 

25         

2-420 

600- 

3- 

3- 

0     0     s!    0     6J 

100    

2-600 

916-666 

2- 

3- 

0    0    5j 

0  11 

10         

1-450 

400- 

3- 

3- 

0     0     IJ    0     2) 

60    

RouuANiA.    See  France. 

-" 

1-250 

916-666 

2- 

3- 

0    0    2i 

0    i 

Fj<Al.CE< 

loo  (Untlmes     100  Franc  piece 

Russia  •V— 

Gold 

32-25806 

000- 

2- 

1- 

3  19     SJ  19  30 

100  Copeck3      Imperial  or 

=  1  franc.      60 

" 

16-1 2903 

900- 

2- 

1- 

1  19     7J 

9  65 

=  1  Souble.         10  Rouble  piece 

Gold 

13-088 

916-666 

nil 

2- 

1  11    8 

T  72 

20 

6-45161 

900- 

2- 

0  15  10 

3  86 

Half  Imperial  or 

10 

^^ 

3-225S0 

900- 

2- 

0    7  11 

1  93 

5  Rouble  piece 

J 

6-544 

916-666 

2- 

0  13  10 

3  8& 

6 

1-61290 

900- 

2- 

3- 

0    S  llj 

0  96 

3 

„ 

S-926 

916-666 

2- 

0    9    6 

2  81 

5 

Silver 

25- 

900- 

3- 

3- 

0    3  11) 

0  96 

1 

Silver 

20-7315 

863-056 

!: 

0    3    2 

0  77 

2 

10- 

835- 

3- 

5- 

0    17 

0  33 

) 

10-3660 

868-056 

0    1    7 

0  38 

1           .. 

5- 

835' 

3- 

5- 

0  0   ey  0  19  1 

0    0     4|    0  10 

1 

5-183 

668-056 

2- 

0    0    9) 

0  19 

60Ceniiines.   .. 

2-6 

835- 

20  Copecks  

4-146 

760-0 

2- 

0    0    7i 

0  15  1 

20        

1- 

835- 

0    0     2 

0    4 

10        

6        , 

2-073 
1-037 

"60-0 
750-0 

•J 

2- 
2- 

0    0    Sj 
0    0    2 

0    7 
0    4 

Oeiis.a><t«_ 

Seevia.    Bee  France. 
Spain. 3    Bee  France. 

100  FJcnni^i      20  Mark  piece  . . 

Gold 

7-964954 

900- 

0  19     7 

4  76 

=  \MaTL         10 
5 

3-9S2477 
1-991239 

900- 
900- 

0    9     91 
0    4  lOJ 

2  38 
.1  19 

Sweden.    See  Denmark. 

SWITZEELAND.      SeeF?.'NCE. 
rURKEY'9- 

100  Pimlris         MedjidieorLira 

I         ■■          ■■ 

Silver 

B7-7777 

900- 

0    4  lOJ 

1  19 

Gold 

7-216 

916-666 

2- 

2- 

0  13    0 

4  40 

u-iiii 

900- 

0     1  llj 

0  48 

=  1  Medjtdtt.       J 

3-608 

916-666 

2- 

2- 

0    9    0 

2  JO 

1 

5-5555 

900- 

0    0  llj 

0  24 

i 

1-804 

916-660 

2- 

J. 

Q    4    e 

1  10 

60  Pfennige 

2-7777 

900- 

0    0     6 

0  12 

20       

1-iiii 

900- 

0    0     2) 

0     6 

20  Piastres   .... 

10        

5 

Silver 

24-055 
lJ-027 
6-013 

830- 
630- 
630- 

3- 
3- 

s- 

3- 
3- 
!- 

0    S    V 
0    1    9) 
0    0  10( 

0  88 
0  44 

0  22 

Greece.*    B«e  Frasce. 

2 

*[ 

2-405    630- 

3- 

3- 

0     0     4 

0    9 

Italy.    Bee  France. 

1 

1-202  ;630- 

3- 

3- 

0    0    2 

0    i 

"  Inconvertibia  paper  currency. 

1  Present  system  introduced  In  1870,  In  place  of  system  of  1857  ;  8-gulden  piece  equivalent  to  20  tranca ;  silver  not  freely  coined.  The  Maria  Theresa  doUat 
(■23-0044  grpmrncB,  gths  fine)  ia  coined  as  commercial  money. 

a  The  System  now  in  use  in  tho  Scandinaviaa  Union  (Denmark,  Sweden,  and  Nonv-ay)  came  into  force  Ist  January  1S76.  It  Is  a  monometallic  gold  etandard 
on  the  decimal  system.  * 

8  The  coinage  system  of  Prance  came  Into  /orce  6th  May  1709.  It  was  extended  to  the  conntriea  composlns  the  "  Latin  Union  "  (Prance,  Belgium,  Italy, 
Switzerland)  by  the  convention  of  18t55,  and  has  since  been  adopted  by  Greece,  Roumania,  Scrvin,  and  Spain.  It  is  thus  the  most  widuly-extended  system  ft 
Kurope.  Austria,  too,  has  established  some  connexion  with  it  by  its  gold  coinage.  Tho  population  using  the  Latin  system  has  therefore  been  estimated 
Uounial  del  Ec^nomhtes,  April  1879)  at  148,000,000.  The  system  Is  theoretically  a  double  standard  one,  with  a  ratio  of  15^  tt>  1 ;  but  tho  statea  composing'tho 
Union  have  restricted  the  coinaRe  of  silver  to  a  small  amount,  thus  producing  what  is  called  tho  italon  hoUcux,  or  "limping  standard."  By  it  coined  silver  U 
kept  above  Its  market  value.  The  unit  In  tho  different  states  is  called  by  ditfci-ent  names :  in  Prance,  Belgiuu^,  and  Switzerland,  franc  and  centivw;  in  Italy, 
tlra  and  cerUetlmo;  in  Greece,  dracfim*  and  Upta;  In  Roumania,  Ui  and  bani;  In  ScrvIa,  dfaar  and  pnru  ;  in  Spain, p«c(a  and  centesimo;  but  in  all  cases  tho  value 
U  the  same. 

'     *  Tho  substitution  of  the  mark  for  tho  older  thaJer  came  Into  forcfi  Ist  J.^nuary  1S7&.     The  Gennan  coinage  law  is  modelled  on  tho  English  system,  but  is 
not  yet  complet«ly  settled,  owing  to  ',he  largo  quantity  of  Bllvcr  in  circulation.  "  ' 

0  Tlie  Dutch  standard  has  been  fleveral  times  change.1.  In  1847  a  silver  standard  was  adopted,  and  continued  till  1872,  the  unit  being  the  silver  guilder.  In 
Juno  1875  tho  ft-eo  coinage  of  gold  was  decreed,  tho  eih-er  coinage  having  been  restricted  since  1672.    Tho  ratio  of  gold  to  silver  Is  15*635  to  1  but  practicaUv  Iho 


>lng  standard  "  c 

Tno  single  gold  Btandard  Is  In  force  In  PortugaL     Tho  English  sovereign  is  legal  tender  for  4600  rels. 
Tho  coins  of  tho  Russian  mint  are  exceptionally  gool.     They  pass  as  commercial  money  at  varying  pric 


Finland  has  a  decimal  system  rescmblin.':  U~>4 


French  since  1877,  the  mark  in  gold  and  siiTer  being  equivalent  to  tho  franc. 
»  Tlie  Poantnh  coinage  was  assimllat'*d  to  tho  Latin  Union  In  1S71.     Spain,  however,  coins  s  SS-pcsota  piece;  tho  other  countries  of  the  Union  do  cot 
*  The  .Mc^JIdlo  coinage  was  Introduced  In  1814.    English  sovereigns  circulate  at  125  ploslrca,  20-franc  piooM  at  l<iO  piast'r^. 


MONEY 


733 


Icrmediate  coins  are  Introdaced,  e.g.,  in  Franrc,  2-franc  and  5-fxanc 

Sieces.  In  fact,  most  modem  currencies  are  a  combination  of  the 
ecixnal  and  binary  systems,  England  alone  adhering  to  a  motlificd 
duodecimal  scale.  A  decimal  coinage  has  for  the  last  sixty  yeaia 
been  proposed  for  Eiigland,  and  it  is  almost  certain  that  if  any  one 
scheme  could  be  pointed  out  as  much  preferable  to  any  other  it 
wouhl  be  acceptei  .  As  it  is,  there  are  two  or  three  proposals,  each 
commanding  some  support,  while  many  advocates  of  the  decinia] 
system  prefer  tp  wait  till  an  international  agreement  for  its  adoption 


can  be  obtained.  One  of  the  schemes  advanced  takes  the  pi-esent 
farthing  as' its  base  ;  then  10  farthi-ngs=\  doit  (2id.)  ;  10  doits— \ 
f.'jrin  (2s,  Id.);  10  fiorins=\  pound  (208.  lOd.).  The  advantages 
of  this  plan  are  :  (1)  that  the  smaller  coins  now  in  use  could  be 
preserved  (the  penny  being  4  farthings),  (2)  retail  prices,  which  are  for 
the  smaller  articles  estimated  in  pence,  need  not  be  altered,  (3)  nor 
need  those  which  affect  postage,  tolls,  and  mileage  charges.  Against 
^h:5e  may  be  set  the  loss  of  the  unit  of  value,  the  pound,  which 
should  bo  raised  to  20s.  lOd.,  so  that  all  accounts,  and  all  large 


Table  III.- 

Curreiicies  pf  th^  mo 

c  important  non- European  States. 

1 

Rem.  1 

Approximate  , 

Rem.  1 

Approximate  ] 

t 

_  .  p.  1000. 1 

Money  Valoj.  \ 

i 

_  ^  p.  1000. 1 

Money  Value.  | 

Coins. 

a 

^1 

a  1 

i 
1 
1 

1 

II 

SI 

Coins. 

■3 

-c 

II 

i| 

i 

•a 

11 

A.  NORTH  AMERICA. 

States  of  Colombu?— 

e,  B.  d. 

i  c 

100  Cmtavos       20  Peso  piece  . . 

(}old 

32268 

900- 

S  19    SJ 

19  30 

British  Dominions' — 

=  1  Fuo.          10       „ 

100  Cm(«  =  l  loiter. 

(Condor) 

16-129 

900- 

1  19    8 

9  65 

Mexico!— 

is   d. 

«   c 

5  Peso  piece  . . 

8-065 

900- 

0  19  10 

4  62 

100  Cnii            18  Dollar  piece 

Gold 

27 -067 

875- 

)    4    9 

6  74 

2       

3-226 

900- 

0    7  UJ 

1  93 

=  lCoiiar.        8 

" 

13-5S3 

875- 

L  12    4) 

7  87 

*           •• 

'* 

6-767 

875- 

1  16    2) 

3  93 

1        „ 

Silver 

25-0 

900- 

0    8  11} 

0  96 

s 

S-383 

875- 

0    8    1 

1  96 

20Centavoa — 

, 

6-0 

836- 

0    0    9j 

0  19 

1 

Silver 

11192 
27-067 

675- 
900- 

0    4    Oi 
0    4    0) 

0  98 
0  93 

10       

6       

;'. 

2-5 
1-25 

836- 
836- 

0    0    6 
0    0    2) 

0  10 
0    5 

60  Cent  uiece  . . 

13-6S3 

900- 

0    2    0 

0  49 

25      ;, 

6-767 

900- 

0    10 

0  24 

Perd'8— 

UmTEO  St.'TIs»— 

imCmltsimot    20 Sol  piece.... 

Gold 

32-268 

900- 

3  19    3{ 

19  30  ; 

100  Cer.ts            20  Dollar  pioce 

=lSol.           10-      

16129 

90O- 

1  19    8 

9  66  1 

=1  Dollar.        (Double  Eagle) 

Gold 

33-436 

900- 

2- 

1- 

4    2    6 

6        

8-065 

900- 

0  19  10 

4  82  1 

10  Dollar  piece 

2       

3-2-25 

900- 

0    7  11} 

1  93  1 

(Eagle)   

16-718 

900- 

2- 

2- 

2    13 

1        

1-613 

900- 

0    3  11| 

0  96 

S  Dollar  piece 

8-S59 
5015 

900- 

2- 

2- 

1    0    7) 

900- 

2- 

2- 

0  12    4j 

1        , 

Bflver 

25-0 

900- 

0    8  11 

0  96 

?'    :: 

" 

4-179 

900- 

2- 

3- 

0  10    4 

50  Centesimos. 

12-5 

900- 

0    1  11 

0  48 

" 

1-671 

900- 

2- 

8- 

0    4    1) 

20       „ 

^^ 

60 

90O- 

0    0    9 

0  19 

10       ,. 

'^ 

2-5 

900- 

0    0    4: 

0  10 

1    .. 

surer 

26-729 

900- 

3- 

5- 

0    4    1 

6       ., 

J. 

1-25 

900- 

0    0    2 

0    6 

50  Cent  piece  . . 

12-500 

900- 

3- 

6- 

0    2    0 

25 

6-250 

900- 

3- 

6- 

0    10 

10 

2-500 

900- 

3- 

0    0    5 

6 

1-250 

900- 

3- 

0    0    21 

3            ,. 

0-802 

750- 

3- 

0    0    l| 

C.  ASIA. 

B.  SOUTH  AMERICA. 

Ahqentink  Refoblic  '  < — 
100  CenUsimos    £0  Peso  piece  . . 
=  1  DoUnr        lo 

(p«o).       5      ;; 

Gold 

33-S33 

900- 

4    1    8 

19  94 

India  (British)*— 
3Pi«=lPi«.    80  Rnpee  piece 
4  Piot=l  Aita.    (DouWe  tfohor 

OM 

23-821 

916-4 

3    0    0 

14  58 

;■ 

16-666 
8-335 

900- 
900- 

2    0  10 
1    0    5 

9  97 
4  93 

lGAna»=l2tupee.  16  Rupee  piece 
(Mohur)    ... 

11-665- 

916-6 

1  10    0 

7  29 

* 

10  Buoeo  piece 

7-n2 

916-6 

1    0    0 

4  86 

1 

SUver 

27-11 

900- 

0    4    1 

0  99 

5 

„ 

8-8S6 

916-6 

0  10    0 

2  43 

Brazil  •»— 

1 

1000  lUis           20  Hilieis  piece 

Gold 

17-927 

916'fi 

2    4  101 

10  91 

1 

Silver 

11-666 

916-6 

0    2    0 

0  43 

=  lifilT«<.        10 

8-963  J916-6 

1    S    5* 

5  15 

•• 

6 -832 
2-916 

916-6 
916-6 

0    1    0 
0    0    6 

0  24 
0  12 

2 

Silver 

25-500  I916-6 

0    4     5 

1    9 

1, 

1-458 

616-6 

0    0    3 

0    6 

1 

18-250 

916-6 

0    2     2J 

0  65 

) 

6-375 

916-6 

0    1     1 

0  27 

Japan* '«- 

CniLfe-              ' 

" 

100&n=irm.  20Tenpl«e»  . 

Gold 

33-334 

900- 

4    2    0 

19  94 

100  Centtpoj       10  Peso  piece 
=  1  Fuo.            (Condor) 

10 

16-666 

900- 

2    1    0 

9  97 

Gold 

15-253 

900- 

1  17    6 

9  10 

6         tt 

8-333 

900- 

1    0    6 

4  98 

6  Peso  piece  . . 
2          „ 

1          „ 

Silver 

7-626 
3-051 

25-00 

900- 
900- 

900- 

0  18    9 
0    7    6 

0    3    9 

4  55 
I  82 

0  91 

2 
1 

','. 

S-S3S 

1-tet 

900- 
900- 

0    8    2 
D    4    1 

1  99 
0  99 

SO  CentsToa  piece 
20 

12-60 
5-00 

900- 
900> 

! !  0    1  101 
..(0    0    9 

0  45 
0  18 

50  Sen  piece    . 
20 

SUver 

10- 

1- 

800- 
800- 

0    2    0 
0    0  10 

0  50 
020 

10 

^^ 

2-50 

900- 

..^0    4) 

0    9 

10 

2- 

800- 

0    0    6 

0  10 

» 

•'< 

1-26 

900-    .. 

..  lo    0    2 

0    4 

5 

1- 

600- 

_11 

0    0    2  '  0    s 

•  Inconvertible  paper  currencj.  ».     ,     a,-        , 

Bemarifcj.— The  currencies  of  such  of  the  non-European  States  as  were  capable  of  being  presented  fn  tabular  form  have  been  given  above,  but  a  brief  outline  oi 
the  crarencies  of  less-aJvanced  countries  where  a  settled  coinage  does  not  prevail  may  be  here  added.  The  syst^ma  of  the  various  European  colonies  in  America 
are,  as  a  rule,  similar  to  their  mother-countries.  Some  of  theEnglish  possessions  acquired  by  conquest  creserve  their  original  currency.  In  Cayenne  tjie  pre- 
Revolution  French  money  is  retained.  In  Paraguay  and  Uruguay  a  much-depreciated  paper  currency  circulates.  The  Central  American  states  reckon  in  dollara. 
The  AuBtralian  colonies  have  a  coirency  identical  with  that  of  England  ;  the  same  currency  exists  in  South  Africa,  In  Mauritius  the  Indian  system  has  been 
recently  introduced.  The  various  Turkish  vassal  states  possess  peculiar  coinages.  In  Egypt,  the  coins  of  various  European  nations  form  the  chief  money.  The 
Asiatic  currencies  are  generally  composed  of  silver.  Ceylon  has  the  Indian  rnpees.  The  money  of  Java  has  sino*  1 S77  been  assimilated  to  the  latest  form  of  the 
Dutch  monetary  system.  In  China  the  cash  forms  the  unit,  and  is  made  of  copper,  iron,  and  tin;  silver  passes  by  weight— a  tael,  which  varies  from  place  to 
place,  being  the  unit ;  whDe  the  silver  jycee  is  the  usual  medium  of  exchange.    The  other  Asiatic  currencies  do  not  require  particular  notice.  .v  j     * 

»  There  ia  no  currency  issued  in  Canada  :  English  and  American  coins  circuUte.  The  standard  is  gold  (£1  =  84-60).  There  were  formerly  different  metIio<IS  or 
tounting,  viz.,  English  sterling,  Halifax  currency,  and  Canadian  sterling,  the  respective  ratios  being  100;  120;  IDS. 

*  The  decimal  coinage  has  existed  in  Mexico  since  1867.    The  gold  coins  are  practically  commercial  m&ney,  nnd  command  a  premium. 

»  The  dollar  was  introduced  in  17S6  as  the  unit.  In  1794  the  ratio  of  gold  to  silver  was  fixed  at  1  to  15.  This  valuation  underrated  gold,  consequently  siiv«r 
became  the  itta*»dard.  In  1834  the  ratio  was  altered  to  1  to  16,  and  it  was  again  changed  in  1837.  In  these  changes  gold  was  overrated,  and  silver  was  di-iven  out 
of  circulation.  This  led,  in  1853,  to  the  reduction  of  the  metal  in  the  silver  coins,  which  therefore  became  k  token -currency.  The  suspension  of  <^sh  payments 
took  place  in  1861.  Id  1873  silver  was  demonetized,  and  gold  became  the  standard.  In  1878  the  *'  Blaud  Bill '"  was  passed,  making  the  silver  doUar  a  le^l 
tender,  but  confining  its  coinage  to  the  executive,  and  fixing  the  amount  at  from  two  to  four  million  dollars  per  month.  These  silver  dollara  have  not  got  mco 
Jirculation.     The  UniteiJ  States  coin  a  trade  dollar  of  420  grs.  (27-212  grammes),  to  compete  with  the  Mexican  dollar.  ^\.  in,   *     ra 

*  The  Argentine  Confederation  professes  to  have  a  gold  standanl.    The  old  South  American  oma  weighed  27  grammes,  was  876*  fine,  and  worth  kn,  43.  m 
5  The  Brazilian  system  is  a  depreciated  form  of  *he  Portuguese. 

«  Chili  has  nominally  a  double  valuation  at  1  to  I6i\.    Gold  coins  are  no  longer  struck. 

'  The  Colombian  States  have  the  Latin  Union  system,  with  a  ratio  of  1  to  lb\. 

8  When  Peru  returns  to  cash  payments  the  system  will  be  almost  identical  with  that  of  Colombia.  *  „    , . ,.  .  ^_  .    „ 

*  British  India  has  a  single  sUver  sUndord,  as  the  gold  coins  are  only  commercial  money.    The  price  of  the  rupee  vanes :  gouemUy  to  recent  years  it  has  tmn 

*  10  The*old  Japaneae  couiage  consisted  of  gold  cobangs  and  silver  itzibus,  with  a  ratio  of  I  to  4.  The  system  was  recast  In  18T1,  «n(l  the  PJ^f"^  decimal  colnago 
adopted,  the  ratio  being  I  to  1617.    The  staodard  is  now  practicaUy  silver.     In  1876  a  trade  dollar  eTactly  similar  to  the  Aiaerican  trade  dollar  was  iatit>duced. 


7:u 


M  O  JN   i!J   Y 


pric«  quotations,  would  have  to  be  altered^  while  the  new  iinit  of  the 
farthing  would  not  be  assimilated  to  any  other  unit.  This  plan  has 
therefore  no  chance  of  acceptance.  Another  proposal  starts  from 
the  present  pound  aa  unit.  It  is  to  he  divided  into  Idjlorins  (23.), 
which  would  contain  100  mila  (or  farthings  reduced  4  per  cent.). 
A  new  coin,  10  viils  (23.  4d.)i  would  probably  have  to  be  introducecL 
The  advantages  of  this  plan  are  :  (1)  the  pound  would  be  preserved 
as  unit,  (2)  t\\Qjlorin  and  shilling  would  also  be  retained — the  latter 
being  60  mils,  (3)  accounts  for  large  amounts  need  not  be  altered. 
The  objections  are  such  as  follow — (1)  the  copper  coins,  which 
are  those  most  used  by  the  poor,  would  all  be  changed,  thus  causing 
great  confusion,  (2)  all  charges  expressed  in  pence  would  be  altered 
to  the  loss  of  one  of  the  parties.  Still,  this  scheme  is  much  to  be 
preferred  to  the  one  first  mentioned.  A  third  plan  is  based  on  the 
fact  that  8s.  in  English  money  is  only  |d.  more  than  10  francs. 
Having  regard  to  this  link  between  the  English  and  French  systems, 
it  is  proposed  to  coin  a  \Q-franG  piece  in  gold  to  serve  as  a  token 
for  8s.  If  the  penny  were  then  reduced  by  4  per  cent,  this  piece 
would  contain  100  pence,  and,  by  coining  a  franc  or  tenpenny  piece 
in  silver,  a  perfect  decimal  currency  would  be  obtained.  This 
arrangement  would  involve  the  abolition  of  the  pound,  as  well  as  of 
most  of  the  present  English  coins.  In  fact,  it  is  as  yet  premature 
to  expect  a  system  which  will  be  international  as.  well  as  decimal, 
and  the  most  that  can  be  hoped  for  is  some  progress  towards  that 
ultimate  end.  All  that  can  be  said  at  present  is  that  all  schemes 
for  the  introduction  of  the  decimal  system  should  be  considered  with 
regard  to  their  tendency  to  help  towards  the  assimilation  of  the 
English  system  to  other  currencies.  The  problem  of  international 
money  has  during  the  last  twenty  years  acquired  much  prominence. 
In  previous  historic  periods  the  idea  was  partially  realized.  Thus 
the  drachme  was  an  international  Hellenic  coin,  though  it  had 
three  different  values.^  Under  tjie  Roman  hegemony  and  the 
succeeding  empire  the  denarius  became  the  coin  of  the  west,  the 
drachme  that  of  the  east.^  The  next  currency  which  can  be  called 
international  was  the  frequently-mentioned  Carlovingian  system. 
The  growth  of  the  different  European  nationalities,  and  their  frequent 
wars,  prevented  any  common  coinage  system  being  adopted  by  tnem. 
Each  state  debased  its  own  coin  at  different  times,  so  that  any 
original  resemblances  disappeared.  The  question  of  unification  of 
the  various  monetary  systems  was  thus  left  open  for  the  present 
century,  when  increased  facilities  for  intercourse  have  led  to  more 
complex  inteiTiational  relations.  An  association  for  promoting  unity 
in  weights,  measures,  and  coins  was  founded  in  Paris  in  1855,  and 
actively  advocated  its  principles.  In  pursuance  of  this  object  a 
series  of  conferences  and  congresses  were  held  on  the  subject,  the 
first  of  them  in  1860.  The  congress  of  1863  was  held  at  Berlin,  and 
adopted  a  series  of  important  resolutions.  Its  report  advocates  the 
superior  convenience  of  a  gold  system  with  a  subsidiary  coinage  of 
silver  ;  the  millesimal  scale  of  900  as  to  fineness  of  the  higher  coins 
was  also  approved  of,  as  well  as  the  definition  of  the  weights  of  coins 
on  the  nietnc  system.  The  first  practical  outcome  of  the  movement 
was  in  the  monetary  convention  of  1865,  which  founded  the  so- 
called  Latin  Union,  by  wliich  France,  Belgium,  Italy,  and  Switzer- 
land became  a  single  monetary  region,  with  the  franc  or  lira  as  unit. 
The  subsequent  accessions  to  the  Union  are  given  in  the  note  to  the 
French  coinage  system  (Table  II.).  In  1867  a  monetary  conference 
was  held  at  trie  same  time  as  the  Exhibition  of  that  year,  when  the 
idea  of  a  universal  coinage  was  advocated,  and  three  leading  principles 
were  laid  down  as  necessary  to  that  result,  viz. — (1)  the  universal 
adoption  of  a  single  gold  standard,  (2)  tho  general  use  of  the  decimal 
scale  for  this  coinage,  (3)  that  all  coinages  should  be  co-ordinated 
with  the  French  system.*  Owing  to  the  accidents  of  historical 
development,  certain  points  of  connexion  existed  between  the  lead- 
ing European  systems.  Thus,  the  franc  being  regarded  as  a  unit, 
the  Austrian  florin  was  as  2*47,  the  American  gold  dollar  as  5*18, 
and  the  English  pound  as  25  •22.  Very  slight  changes  would  bring 
these  coins  into  a  scries  of  1  :  2J  :  6  :  25,  and  it  was  proposed  by  the 
congress  of  1863  that,  when  thus  modified,  they  should  have  inter- 
national cuVrency  in  all  countries  where  any  of  the  four  units  pre- 
vailed. All  outside  nations  were  recommended  to  select  whichever 
of  these  units  tlicy  preferred.  The  subsequent  monetary  changes 
in  the  various  European  systems  have,  however,  ended  rather  in 
the  formation  of  inteniational  systems  without  any  tendency  towards 
the  establishment  of  a  universal  one.  Thna,  of  the  three  principles 
laid  down  by  tlie  conference  of  1867,  two  only  have  been  adopted 
in  recent  currency  reforms.  On  the  creation  of  a  united  Germany 
after  the  Franco-German  war  of  1870-1871,  it  was  the  aim  of  the 
rulers  of  that  country  to  develop  as  much  as  possible  all  outward 
expressions  of  that  unity,  and,  in  accordance  with  that  conception, 
a  German  ciirroncy  was  devised  which  was  monometallic  and  decimal 
(see  Table  11.),  but  which  was  not  easy  to  assimilate  to  the  French 
system,  thus  rejecting  tho  third  principle  laid  dovm  by  the  Paris 
conference,    and    rendering    future    progress  more   difficult.     The 


,  Eubolc,  and  .Eginetan  ;  seo  Sutitb,  Diet.  Or.  aiid  Rom.  AfU^^  s.  v. 


Scandinavian  Union  proceeded  on  very  much  the  same  lines  fts  th^ 
German  reform,  and  was,  in  fact,  mainly  caused  by  it.  The  Dutch 
Government,  under  the  pressure  of  circumstances,  have  abandoned 
the  silver  standard  and  coined  some  gold,  but  their  position  is  still 
undecided.  The  Austrian  Government  have  made  a  slight  otep  by 
issuing  as  gold  coins  8-  and  4-gulden  pieces,  which  are  the  same  a* 
the  20-  and  10-franc  coins.  In  one  part  of  the  Russian  dominions, 
Finland,  the  French  system  has  been  introduced,  the  new  mark 
being  equivalent  to  the  franc.  The  main  Russian  system  has  not 
been  changed,  nor  have  any  alterations  been  made  by  England, 
Turkey,  or  Portugal.*  The  question  of  universal  coinage  has 
become  implicated  with  the  question  of  the  proper  standard,  and 
the  strong  ground  taken  up  in  1867  has  certainly  to  some  extent 
been  abandoned.  It  may,  nowevcr,  be  considered  that  the  present 
systems  of  coinage  are  capable  of  being  assimilated-  A  comparison 
of  the  amount  of  pure  metal  in  English,  French,  German,  United 
States,  and  even  Japanese  coin  shows  how  small  is  the  difference.* 
An  ingenious  proposal  was  made  in  1868  to  the  English  commission 
on  the  question,  oy  which  the  sovereign  would  bo  made  identical 
with  the  French  25-franc  piece  (if  tliat  were  coined).  It  was  based 
on  the  fact  that  tho  sovereign  contained  only  about  1  grain  more 
of  gold  than  the  amount  in  25  francs.  It  was  proposed  to  deduct 
this  small  amount  from  the  bullion  brought  for  coinage  as  seignior- 
age, so  that  no  change  need  be  made.  The  advocates  of  this  scheme 
contended  that  prices  would  not  be  affected  by  the  alteration.  This 
reasoning  did  not  commend  itself  to  the  commission.  They  accepted 
the  view  put  forward  by  Newmarch,  who  argued  that  all  con- 
tracts would  have  to  be  altered  to  allow  for  the  depreciation  caused 
by  the  change,  and  this  position  seems  impregnable,  so  long  as 
metallic  currency  alone  is  considered.  Another  mgenious  plan  was 
that  of  Bagehot  to  assimilate  the  English  and  American  systoms,  as 
a  step  towards  a  ^vider  change.®  At  the  present  moment  the  great 
monetary  systems  of  (1)  France  and  her  Edlies,  (2)  England  and  the 
larger  part  of.her  colonies,  and  (3)  the  United  States  are  so  firmly 
established  in  their  several  countries,  and  the  advantages  of  each 
system  are"  so  eoual,  that  it  is  hard  to  see  which  is  to  give  way. 
The  wide  area  of  the  Latin  Union,  and  the  perfect  decimal  division 
of  its  coinage,  are  arguments  in  favour  of  the  franc;  the  greater 
value  of  the  pound,  and  the  immense  extent  of  the  English 
colonies  and  English  trade,  are  in  favour  of  the  British  unit  of 
value ;  while  the  dollar,  from  its  convenient  size  and  the  prospect 
of  the  future  growth  of  the  United  States,  has  claims  to  be  con- 
feidered  in  the  discussion.  The  most  probable  conclusion,  however^ 
seems  to  be  that  the  future  unit  will  not  be  any  of  these  coins,  but 
the  result  of  a  compromise,  which  will  lead  to  a  new  system  being 
established.  The  difficulties  which  arise  when  universal  coinage 
schemes  are  brought  forward  ought  not  to  conceal  from  us  the  solid 
advantages  which  such  an  institution  would  confer  on  the  world- 
The  arguments  urged  in  its  favour  ar^  various,  and  are  regarded  as 
being  of  different  relative  importance  by  their  advocates.  They 
Inay,  however,  all  be  stated  as  follows.  (1)  Increased  facility  of 
travelling.  Though  there  is  a  tendency  to  imder- estimate  this 
element  of  tho  question,  it  seems  impossible  to  doubt  that  the 
saving  of  trouble  to  travellers  by  any  universal  coinage  system 
would  be  very  great.  The  abolition  even  of  the  local  currencies  of 
Germany  and  Italy,  and  their  replacement  by  uniform  national 
sj'stems,  has  been  a  great  boon  to  tourists,  but  an  arrangement 
which  would  obviate  the  necessity  for  procuring  any  different 
money  whatever  would  be  a  still  greater  advance.  In  the  interests 
of  peace,  which  is  greatly  promoted  by  extended  international 
communication,  it  is  very  desirable  to  remove  any  obstacle  which 
retards  increased  intercourse  among  persons  of  different  countries. 
(2)  Greater  ease  in  adjusting  the  foreign  exchanges.  This  argument 
has  been  sometimes  pushed  too  far.  It  has  been  appaiently  held 
that,  were  a  xiniversal  currency  adopted,  the  pi-oblems  of  the  foreign 
exchanges  would  no  longer  exist  There  are,  however,  other  factora 
in  the  quesHon,  namely,  those  of  time  and  place,  which  could  not  be 
eliminated  by  the  adoption  of  a  single  coinage  sj-stcm.'  Still,  the 
removal  of  even  one  complicating  element  wovild  simplify  exchange 
dealings.  The  quosrion  of  mint  pars  would  no  longer  arise,  and 
the  specie  points  would  be  stated  more  simply.  The  friction  wliich 
sometimes  arises  from  the  necessity  of  recoining  tho  exported  gold 
would  also  be  removed,  and  tho  profits  of  those  dealers  who  gain  by 


Aa  Austria,  Rnssia,  and  Turkey  posscsi  fnconvertlble  pai^jr  currc 
variouB  foreign  coins  circulotc  In  the  last-nampd  country,  the  qi; 
not  posaosB  murh  importanci 


for  tliom.      Portugal  Is  closely 
1th  Engfand.  acd  will  probably  follow  her  exam]>I( 
that  the  gold  coins  of  all  these 


I  8overoign=7-S2  gma 
25  ftnncas=7-20 
U.  8.  half-c«glc=7-62 
Oemian  20  iTwrk=7-16 


y  also  be  r 
tries  have  a  Queuess  of  ^Jths. 
gold. 


tlie  flret  propOKU  nicutlom-d  above,  but  it  differs  In  contemplating  the  assi 
tion  of  American  money,  the  5-dollar  piece  being  equivalent  to  tbe  new  yc 
f  See,  for  this,  Qoschcn,  Fortign  Fxdianges,  y.  S,  and  the  article  Extu 
(voL  vlii.  p.  784  fq).  A  pimctlcai  Illustration  is  Ibo  case  of  Australia,  t^ 
though  the  currency  la  Identical  with  that  of  England,  bills  on  England  s 
«  ^remiuDL 


MONEY 


•35 


Hheir  special  knowledge  wonld  be  saved  to  ordinary  traders.  (3) 
Tte  improvement  of  the  currencies  of  backward  states.  Many 
countries  still  possess  tiiose  mixed  currencies  whirh  were  once  com- 
mon all  over  Europe,  and  much  confusion  consequently  arises.  The 
commercial  coins  have  been  introduced  for  international  circulation,* 
and  a  universal  currency  would  perform  their  function  more  satis- 
factorily. (4)  Greater  facility  in  comparing  price-lists,  kc.  This 
advantage,  which  is  leserved  for  the  last,  has  been  regarded  by 
competent  judges  as  the  gi'eatest.'  It  has  a  practical  and  a  theo- 
retical interest :  the  former,  since  trade  with  foreign  countries  would 
'  be  rendered  easier  and  safer  ;  the  latter,  since  statistical  inquiries 
would  be  very  much  facilitated.  At  present,  it  is  quite  impossible 
for  an  ordinary  trader  to  understand  a  set  of  foreign  price-lists,  each 
perhaps  expressed  in  terms  of  a  different  currency  from  the  others, — 
a  difficulty  which  is  enhanced  by  the  variations  of  gold  and  silver 
values,  not  to  add  the  case  of  an  inconvertible  paper  currency.  The 
existence  of  a  common  monetary  langxiage  would  remove  these  diffi- 
culties, and  the  premium  on  gold  could  be  allowed  for  in  the  case 
of  depreciated  paper.  A  much  wider  development  of  smaller  trading 
transactions  would  become  possible,  and  would  add  to  the  world's 
wealth.  Nor  would  the  greater  ease  of  statistical  inquiry  be  unim- 
portant ;  the  ratjs  of  wages  in  different  countries,  and  the  profits 
on  diflerent  transactions,  would  be  readily  compared,  and  the  move- 
ments of  labour  and  capital  to  the  most  advantageous  points 
rendered  more  rapid.  Against  these  great  gains  can  be  set  only  a 
certain  and  a  possible  disadvantage — namely,  the  loss  and  trouble 
involved  in  change,  which  would,  of  course,  for  the  time  be  con- 
siderable, but  would  soon  be  over,  and  the  chance  that  some  states 
might  issue  a  depreciated  currency,  which  would  expel  the  other 
and  better  coins.  In  the  case  of  a  universal  coinage  this  case  would 
hardly  arise,  since  there  would  be  no  field  of  employment  for  the 
purer  coins,  and  they  would  consequently  remain  in  circxilation, 
out  the  whole  currency  would  become  depreciated.  Proper  mint 
regulations,  however,  would  obviate  this  danger,  and  could  surely 
bo  devised.  It  may  be  said  that  the  principal  hindrance  to  one 
coinage  system  for  all  civilized  states  is  the  as  yet  unsettled  ques- 
tion of  the  standard  to  be  employed.  Till  the  debate  on  this 
problem  is  closed  it  is  vain  to  expect  monetary  unification.  The 
establishment  of  a  universal  system  based  on  gold  sceir  3d  quite 
feasible  to  the  conference  of  1867,  but  doubtful  to  that  of  1»78,  while 
a  double  standard  was  the  proposal  discussed  in  1881. 

9.  Conaideraiions  on  the  Questions  arising  from  the  Con- 
flict of  Standards. — In  the  preceding  section  the  various 
possible  monetary  systems  were  set  forth,  but  no  discussion 
was  entered  into  with  respect  to  their  comparative  merits. 
Only  three  of  these  systems  need  be  here  examined,  namely, 
the  single  standard  system,  the  multiple  standard  system, 
and,  lastly,  the  composite  systeln.  Nor  even  is  there  any 
need  for  examining  the  various  possible  single  or  multiple 
standards.  The  single  silver  standard  is  the  only  one  of 
the  former,  as  the  double  gold  and  silver  standard  is  the 
only  one  of  the  latter,  which  need  be  taken  into  account. 
It  is  true,  historical  inquiry  has  shown  that  the  problem  of 
the  proper  proportion  between  two  different  metals  when 
xised  together  presented  itself  to  the  Chinese  with  regard 
to  their  iron  and  copper  coinages  ;  but  the  course  of  mone- 
tary evolution,  as  discussed  in  section  3,  has  resulted  in  the 
rejection  of  the  less  valuable  metals  and  in  confining  the 
material  of  the  principal  coins  to  silver  and  gold.  The  use 
of  silver  as  a  principal  coinage  was,  as  we  have  seen, widely 
diffused.  The  Hellenic  coins  were  composed  of  that  metal, 
gold  being  afterwards  introduced  as  a  variable  commercial 
money;  and  copper  was  brought  in  still  later  as  a  token 
currency.  Though  copper  preceded  silver  as  money  in 
Kome,  the  latter,  soon  after  its  introduction,  succeeded  in 
displacing  it,  the  ratio  firsfr fixed  being  1  to  250.  A  regular 
gold  coinage  did  not  exist  at  Eome  till  the  empire,  but 
gold  in  bars  passed,  the  legal  ratio  being  1  to  11-91.  StiU 
the  questions  connected  with  the  use  of  a  double  standard 
do  not  seem  to  have  arisen.'  The  various  European  mon- 
archies had  silver  as  their  principal  money  (see  p.  726  sg., 
above),  gold  where  it  was  used  being,  as  in  Greece,  a 


'  The  principal  of  these  are — the  Austrian  Jlaria  Tlieresa  dollar, 
the  Mcxicau  dollar,  and  the  United  States  UoAe  dollar,  which  is  Ti 
grs.  hervier  than  the  national  coin  of  the  same  name.  See  also  Table-s 
II.  and  III. 

*  B.g.,  Bagehot  and  Prof.  Jevons.  The  former  dwells  on  the  com- 
jnercial  aspect;  the  latter  noturally  places  the  scientific  side  first. 

'  See  Mommsen,  UUt.  of  Borne,  ii.  p.  382  and  iv.  p.  553. 


commercial  money.  The  advance  of  gold  to  a  position 
parallel  to  silver  was  commenced  in  the  13th  and  continued 
in  the  14th  century,  the  method  of  regulating  the  mixed, 
gold  and  silver  currencies  being  by  proclamation,  which 
fixed  the  varying  ratios  from  time  to  time.  In  England, 
this  course  was  followed  from  the  first  introduction  of 
gold  coins  (1257)  to  1663.-'  From  1663  to  1717  silver 
was  the  standard,  and  the  gold  coins  passed  at  their  mar- 
ket value.  As  the  silver  coins  were  very  much  debased, 
the  gold  gtiinea  sometimes  was  deemed  equivalent  to  303.. 
After  the  recoinage  of  1696  the  guinea  passed  at  21s.  6d. 
At  this  ratio  silver  was  underrated,  and  was  accordingly 
exported  to  Continental  Europe  and  to  India.  The  loss  of 
the  silver  coins  aroused  the  public  attention,  and  the  matter 
was  submitted  to  Sir  I.  Newton,  whose  answer  was  given 
in  his  Third  Representation.  He  proposed  to  reduce  the- 
guinea  from  2l3.  6d.  to  2I3.  as  an  experimental  measure.'*- 
The  proper  reduction  for  the  object  in  view  would  have 
been  to  ^Os.  8d.  The  silver  drain,  therefore,  continued, 
and  England  came  to  have  a  gold  currency.  An  opposite 
arrangement  gave  France  a  silver  coinage.  The  recent 
facts  of  French  monetary  history,  as  well  as  those  of  the 
United  States,  illustrate  the  same  condition  of  a-ffairs.  The 
difficulty  of  constituting  a  double  standard  system  on  a 
secure  basis  is  thus  made  clear,  so  far  at  least  as  regards  a 
single  country.  For  the  continuance  of  the  two  metals  in 
the  currency  depends  on  the  market  ratio  and  the  legal 
ratio  between  gold  and  silver  being  the  same.  The  slightest 
examination  of  the  history  of  these  metals  will  show  how 
variable  they  have  been.  Without  accepting  the  estimates 
which  regard  silver  as  being  more  valuable  than  gold,'  the 
-well-attested  variations  of  the  precious  metals  have  been 
very  considerable.  Thus,  Herodotus  estimates  the  ratio  a.=i 
1  to  13,  Plato  1  to  12,  Menander  1  to  10,  and  in  Csesar's 
time  the  ratio  was  1  to  9.^  Table  I.  contains  the  varia- 
tions since  the  discovery  of  America.  In  the  14th  centuiy' 
the  value  of  gold  rose  remarkably,  and  the  gradual  move- 
ment has  ever  since  been  to-wards  an  appreciation  of  gold 
relatively  to  silver.  Another  point,  previously  noticed,  is 
the  tendency,  as  wealth  increases,  to  adopt  a  more  valuable: 
form  of  currency.  Gre6ce,  Rome,  and  England  all  afford, 
illustratipns  of  this  movement.  The  experience  of  the  evils, 
of  a  mixed  currency  led  the  earlier  -writers  on  coinage  in 
England  to  regard  a  single  standard  system  as  the  best,  and 
silver  as  the  most  suitable  metal  for  the  standard.  Locke, 
Petty,  and  Harris  all  advocated  this  view.  The  earlier 
Italian  writers  proposed  to  combine  gold  and  silver  at  a 
ratio  of  1  to  12,  which  they  conceived  to  be  the  actual  pro- 
portion. The  theory  of  a  composite  system  was,  as  before 
mentioned,  first  given  by  Lord  Liverpool.'     This  method 


*  The  various  changes  made  can  be  estimated  from  the  Tables  given; 
in  James's  Essays  on  Money,  &c.  ;  see  also  Ency.  Brit,  8Lh  ed.,  articles 
"Money."  A  careful  statement  will  be  found  in  Lord  Llverpool'K. 
work,  ch.  li. 

'  Newton's  report  will  be  found  in  Select  Tracts  on  Mo-iiey,  edited 
by  J.  E.  M'CuUoch  for  the  Political  Economy  Club  (1856).  One 
passage  is  worth  quoting.  "  The  demand  for  exportation  arises  from, 
the  higher  price  of  silver  in  other  places  than  in  England  itn  propor- 
tion to  gold,  .  .  .  and  may  therefore  be  diminished  by  lowering  th» 
value  of  gold  in  proportion  to  silver.  If  gold  in  England,  or  silver  in-. 
East  India,  could  be  brought  down  so  low  as  to  bear  the  same  propor- 
tion to  one  another  in  both  places,  there  would  be  here  no  greater 
demand  for  silver  than  for  gold  to  be  exported  to  India.  And  i»'  gold 
were  lowered  only  so  as  to  have  the  same  proportion  to  the  silver 
money  in  England  which  it  hath  to  silver  in  the  rest  of  Europe, 
there  would  be  no  temptation  to  export  silver  rather  than  gold  to  any 
other  pnrl  of  Europe  "  (p.  2"; ).  The  italics  are  in  the  original  pass- 
age, which  has  beeu  much  discussed  in  recent  controversies. 

'  Del  Mar,  Hist,  of  the  Precious  Metals,  p.  221.  According  to 
this  writer,  the  variation  .has  been  200  degrees — t.^.,  from  silver  being 
10  times  as  valuable  as  gold,  gold  has  come  to  be  20  times  more, 
valuable  than  silver. 

'  Sro  Smith,  Diet,  of  Ant.,  s.  v.  "  Argentom," 

•  See  above,  p.  731. 


736' 


MONEY 


•of  regulating  the  metallic  currency  was  establisned  In 
En!'l:.iid.  as  it  were,  acciJentally,  and  deliberately  adopted 
only  iu  IS  16.  The  practical  good  re.sults  which  loUowed 
made  all  English  economists  of  that  period  warm  advo- 
catci  of  the  composite  system.  Thus,  M'CuUoch  and 
Tooke  agree  in  supporting  the  English  system,  as  also  doea 
J.  H.  Mill.'  On  the  Continent  the  weight  of  authority 
was  more  divided,  and  the  existence  of  the  French  bi- 
metallic system  gave  support  to  the  advocates  of  a  double 
standard.  The  result  of  the  gold  discoveries  in  Australia 
and  California  was  to  greatly  increase  the  supply  of  that 
metal,  and,  under  the  action  of  Gresham's  law,  to  change 
the  French  currency  from  silver  to  gold,  while  Holland,  to 
avoid  the  evils  which  were  anticipated  from  the  reduced 
value  of  that  metal,  adopted  silver  as  the  standard.  The 
movements  in  favour  of  a  universal  currency  described 
above,  combined  with  the  course  of  events,  brought  the 
standard  question  into  greater  prominence.  The  proposal 
of  the  Paris  conference  of  1867  for  a  single  gold  standard, 
and  a  universal  coinage  on  that  l-J^ia.  raised  the  question 
to  great  prominence.  Wolowski  and  CourceUe  Seneuil 
strongly  opposed  the  recommendation,  the  former  predict- 
ing that  a  disastrous  appreciation  of  gold  would  follow. 
This  view  seems  borne  out  by  the  result,  for,  although  a 
aniversal  coinage  was  not  created,  yet  Gcnnany  and  the 
Scandinavian  Union  both  changed  from  a  eilver  to  a  gold 
standard,  while  Holland  and  Uie  L'nitcd  States  both  made 
movements  in  the  same  direction  by  derQcnetizing  silver 
and  making  preparations  for  adopting  gold.  The  Latin 
Vnion  at  the  same  time  restricted  their  silver  coiiiage,wliich 
had  nearly  the  same  effect  as  the  adoption  of  a  gold  stand- 
ard.^ TJie  result  of  these  extensive  changes  was  to  cause 
much  confusicm.  The  more  ardent  advocates  of  a  double 
standard,  too,  attributed  most  of  the  continued  trade  de- 
pression to  this  cause.  The  altered  condition  of  opinion  on 
the  question  was  seen  at  the  monetary  conference  held  at 
Paris  in  1378,  where  the  imiversal  demonetization  of  silver 
•was  considered  to  be  dangerous.  The  "  Bland  Act "  of  the 
United  States,  which  theoretically  decreed  the  double 
standard  (1878),  was  another  instance  of  reaction.  The 
great  depreciation  of  sUvet;  which- resulted  mainly  from  its 
having  ceased  to  be  money  over  a  large  part  of  the  civilized 
world,  severely  affected  the  Indian  finances,^  and  thus  the 
advocates  of  a  double  standard  %vere  able  to  command  some 
attention  in  England.  The  conference  held  in  Paris  in 
1881  reflected  these  changed  views.  The  supporters  of 
the  double  standard  took  the  initiative  and  proposed  a 
treaty  based  on  the  double  standard  at  a  fixed  ratio,  but 
,no  concliLsion  was  arrived  at — England,  Germany,  and  the 
Scandinavian  Union  upholding  the  gold  standard. 

Such,  in  brief,  has  been  the  recent  liistory  of  tlie  standard  question, 
and  it  now  becomes  desirable  to  examine  moro  closely  the  conflicting 
arguments  in  the  various  shapes  they  liave  taken.  The  older  English 
advocates  of  the  gold  standard  have  found  their  best  representatives 
in  Lord  Liverpool  and  Tooke.  The  former  of  these  adopted  the 
argument  used  by  Petty,  Locke,  and  Harris,  that  only  one  metal 
can  bo  the  standard  of  value  at  a  given  time,  but  he  held  that  the 
advance  of  England  in  wealth  rendered  gold  a  mure  suitable  material 
than  silver  for  the  principal  money.  He  added  that  by  law  the 
power  lay  m  the  sovereign  to  settle  the  standard,  and,  as  a  matter 
of  fact,  he  contended  that  gold  was  actually  at  that  time  (1805)  Uio 
English  standard  in  common  estimation.     Tlieso  arguments  were 


'   ^  Lord  Ashburton  waa  tho  only  person  of  influenco  who  advocata] 
the  double  standard. 

*  The  amounts  decreed  to  bo  coined  each  year  were  us  follows : — 
Fn. 

1874  =  120,000,000 

1875  =  160,000,000 

1876  =  120,000,000 
1877=   06,000,000 

1878=     9,000,0001    t,     „  ,        , 
1879=   20;000;000|    F" 't^'y  ""ly- 
*^  Sco,  for  a  full  discussion,  "W.  Bagehot,  Dejtrtciation  of  SUve. . 


supported  by  a  mass  of  Kistorical  examples.*  TooVe,  who  5eilt  ^nrh. 
the  subject  In  liia  History  of  Prices^  severely  criticizes  the  double 
standard.  Ho  poiiita  out  that  it  would  bo  impossible  to  keep  hotli 
metals  in  circulation,  and  that  it  would  bt.  the  interior  one  which 
would  remain.  He  also  indicat'^na  moro  refined  objcv* 'on.  uanicly,  the 
diliiculty  of  constiturin;j  n.  uank  reserve  under  the  double  siandavd- 
Thus,  if  silver  were  uxa  more  valuable,  and  the  reserve  consisted 
mainly  of  it,  there  would  be  an  inducement  to  mako  a  run  on  the 
reserve,  so  as  to  drain  out  tho  small  quantity  of  gold  and  then  get 
the  more  valuable  silver."  Tho  silver  standard  was  preferred  hy 
Rioardo.  who  fully  arcepted  the  ar^iments  against  the  double 
standard  as  conclusive  ;  his  view  was,  that  silver  was  steadier  in 
value  thau  Rold,  and  was  the  standard  money  in  other  countries, 
while  the  objection  to  it  on  account  of  it^  greater  bulk  w«aa,  he 
thou^'ht,  obviated  by  tho  nw  of  paper  mouey  for  circulation.*  J. 
S.  ilUl  pronounced  no  opinion  as  to  the  comparative  merits  of  gold 
and  silver,  but  he  objects  to  the  doublo  standard  on  the  usual 
ground  that  the  cheaper  mefal  is  the  only  ono  used  in  payments, 
and  that  tlierefore  tlie  fluctuatious  are  more  frequent  under  a  double 
standard  regime.  The  advocates  of  tlio  concurrent  use  of  the  two 
metals,  prominent  among  whpm  were  "Wolowski  on  the  Coutiiieflt 
and  Sevd  in  England,  contended  that  these  objections  were  ill- 
founded,  for  (1)  the  double  standard,  though  it  produced  (t-^., 
admitting  the  assumption  of  their  opponents)  more  frequent  fluctua- 
tions, still  did  not  vary  so  widely  from  the  mean,  since  in  each  case 
it  was  the  clicaner  metal  which  determined  the  value,''  and  (2)  the 
action  of  Gresham's  law  would  produce  a  compensatory  action. 
Tb'is,  if  silver  bo  undervalued  in  a  double-standard  system,  a  drain 
BotB  m  ic  other  countries  where  it  is  more  valuable.  The  quantity 
of  silver  ia  thus  reduced  and  its  value  raised,  while  gold  is  'r.j.ortea, 
its  quantity  increased,.  &wl.  :t3  value  lowered.  "U'^r^  ^^.u  tlie  under- 
valued metal,  tlio  converse  process  would  take  place.  The  t-ound- 
licss  of  this  position  b  illustiated  by  the  case  of  the  great  transforma- 
tion of  the  French  currency  (1849-1860).  During  tlie  rapid  increase 
of  the  gold  supplies  the  value  of  silver  only  rose  about  3  per  cent.  ; 
in  fact  tho  depreciation  was  spread  over  the  two  metals,  and  not 
confined  to  ^old.^  In  addition  to  tho  above  arguments,  it  was 
urged  by  "Wolowski  that  any  attempts  to  establish  a  universal  gold 
standaid  as  contemplated  by  the  Paris  conference  of  1S67  would 
cause  a  great  appreciarion  of  gold,  which  would  be  disastious  to 
commercial  interests,  while  silver  would  lose  most  of  it^value.  The 
services  which  the  double -standard  countries  rendered  by  acting  as 
intermediaries  between  gold  and  silver  standard  countries  was  also 
dwelt  on,  the  ease  with  which  the  mass  of  silver  needed  for  exporta- 
tion to  the  East  was  supplied  from  France  during  the  years  1853-56 
being  an  instance  in  pouit.  .The  monetary  dilficulties,  as  indicated 
above,  which  followed  the  adoprion  of  gold  by  Gernianv  and  the 
Scandinavian  Union,  as  well  as  the  embarrassment  of  the  Indian 
Government,  from  the  resulting  depieciaUon  of  silver,  revived  tho 
double-standard  advocates.  Cernuschi  and  De  Laveleye  cam? 
forward  as  supporters  of  what  the  former  called  Inncfallism,  tliat  ia 
to  say,  the  establishment  of  a  universal,  or  at  all  events  a  large 
international,  currency,  based  on  the  concurrent  circulation  of  the 
two  metals  gold  and  silver  at  a  fixed  ratio.  This  plau  has  gained 
many  supporters,  though  the  tendency  among  English  economists 
WHS  at  first  to  decline  even  to  consider  it ;  and  not  even  yet  does 
tho  qucsrion  appear  to  have  received  that  cajeful  esamination  by 
nionoraetallists  which  would  be  desirable.^ 

The  bimetallists  start  with  a  discussion  as  to  the  causes  which 
determine  the  value  of  money.  They  point  out  that  there  are  two 
extreme  theories  :  ono  that  the  value  of  money  depends  ou  the  wiH 
of  the  sovereign  [the  fat  theory)  ;  the  oilier  tliat  the  value  of 
money  is  enrirely  independent  of  state  control,  and  determined  by 
economic  conditions  (tnu  free  trade  tJieoryJ.  Neither  of  th&^e  is 
accepted  by  the  bimetallists.  They  take  up  a  middle  ground  and 
holtl  that,  by  its  power  of  deciding  what  substance  shall  be  deemed 
legal  tender  and  discharge  all  obligations,  the  state  is  oble  to  deter- 
mine, in'thin  liviUs,  what  substances  shall  be  money  and  what  the 

*  Coivs  of  tho  Realm,  pp.  123-165. 

*  Thia  objection  to  the  double  standaid  is  also  srgcd  by  Prof.  Tborold 
Rogers  and  by  B-igebot.  Actual  instances  of  liiCtlifficulty  occurred  in 
1860,  and  ngoio  in  1876.  with  the  Bank  of  FYanco. 

^  "  Proposals  for  an  Economical  and  Secure  Currency,**  Works  (ed- 
M'Culloch),  p.  103. 

'  The  superposition  of  two  curves,  cvh  representing  the  variations 
of  one  metal,  and   tlio  formation  of   a  third  curve  reprt.'^enting  the 
lowest  concurrent  points  of  each,  will  luake  this  clear.     See  Jcvons, 
MoneUt  p.  138. 
1      8  See  J.  E.  Caiiues,  Essaijs  t\i  Pot.  Koon.^  pp.  140-143. 

*  Mr  A.  J.  Wilson  has  collected  a  seiiea  of  articles  on  Rf-iprocity, 
Bimetallism,  and  Land  Tenure  Reform,  and  Prof.  Bonamv  Pfice  dealt 
with  BimetnUi*)m  and  Fair  Trade  in  his  nddrcM  to  the  Social  Scleuce 
Congress  in  1832.  But  there  is  no  fair  reason  for  plncing  fi.  de  LavrJeye, 
Lu7.?ati,  Cernuschi.  Dana  Horton,  and  other  sMpporlers  of  biraetalhsm 
— and  we  may  add  Prof.  F.  A.  Walker— in  the  same  cau-gory  ^ith  tha 
advocates  of  (uo-ralled)  "Rociproeily.'* 


MONEY 


737 


▼aim  of  those  saostances  shall  he.  They  a?pTL&  CronTliifltory  that 
berera}  motals  hare  hp.on  successively  deiuonetized,  that  different 
ratios  have  been- fixed  between  metals  circulating  together,  that  in- 
convertible paper  currencies  have  been  kept  in  circulation  by  the 
will  of  the  state.*  The  docliine  of  cost  of  production  as  determining 
the  value  of  money  is  also  assailed  by  tham.  They  hold  that  it  is 
the  quantity  of  money  which  governs  its  value,*  and  that  cost  of 
production  has  little  or  no  infiuence  in  the  matter.  The  next  step  in 
the  bimetilKc  argument  is  to  contend  that  their  pioposed  ratio  for 
gold  to  silver  (1  to  15^)  can  be  maintained  by  the  legal  regulations 
to  that  effect.  The  common  objection  to  bimetallism  is,  that  which- 
ever metal  was  undervalued  would  be  exported.  They  Answer  that 
the  same  ratio  existing  over  all,  or  a  great  part  of,  the  world,  there 
would  be  no  inducement  to  export  either  metal,  and  in  support 
of  their  argument  they  appeal  to  the  passage  from  Newton  quoted 
above,  and  claim  him  as  the  inventor  of  modem  bimetaUism,^ 
Thirdly,  a  greater  stability  as  regards  v£.lue  is  claimed  for  the  two 
metals  combined  than  for  either  singly,  since  the  fluctuations  are 
distributed  over  a  wider  field,  and,  the  conditions  of  production  of 
gold  and  silver  being  somewhat  cSfferent,  fluctuations  in  them  tend 
to  counterbalance  each  other.  A  fourth  point  consists  in  the  greater 
facilities  which  would  exist  for  trade,  since  the  fluctuations  of  the 
exchanges  which  arise  from  theexistence  of  gold  and  silver  currencies, 
and  the  variations  of  relative  value  of-these  metals,  would  under 
-a  bimetallic  system  disappear.  The  fifth  argument  for  bimetallism 
is  the  advantages  which  would  result  from  the  increased  prices 
caused  by  the  greater  abundance  of  money,  or  at  all  events  from 
the  check  to  any  fall  in  prices  which  might  arise  from  a  diminution 
in  the  production  of  gold.  The  $nal  argument  is  that  a  universal 
currency  is  desirable,  and  that,  k  single  gold  currency  being  by 
^neral  consent  practically  impossible,  this  advantageous  reform 
can  be  realized  in  no  other  way  than  by  adopting  a  plan  which  per- 
mits the  concurrent  circulation  of  two  metals.  Most  of  these  posi- 
tions are  contested  by  the  monometallists,  and  even  where  any 
concession  is  made  the  value  of  the  advantage  to  be  reaped  Is  esti- 
mated at  a  much  smaller  amount.  The  contention  that  the  val;:a 
of  money  is  largely  influenced  by  state  demand  is  met  by  the 
assertion  that  cost  of  production  is  the  ultimate  regulator  of  value, 
-and  that  any  artificial  regulation  would  stimulate  the  production  of 
the  cheaper  metal,  and  thus  flood  the  world  with  it  The  fixing  of 
a  ratio  dilTerent  from  the  market  one  is  derided  by  them  as  absurd, 
and  an  extreme  case  is  instanced  for  this  purpose.  la  it  possible, 
they  ask,  to  make  the  value  of  silver  equal  to  that  of  gold  ?  If  not, 
how  can  it  be  possible  to  alter  the  marltet  ratio  in  even  the  slightest 
degree  ?  Is  there  not  a  great  demand  for  the  precious  mstals  in  the 
\'arious  trades  ?  And  would  not  the  ratio  of  this  demand  be  affected 
by  the  fixing  of  a  new  ratio  ?  The  argument  of  biroetallists  that 
their  system  would  produce  greater  stability  in  the  value  of  money 
is  met  by  the  answer  that  there  is  no  proof  of  this.  It  is  quite 
possible  that  a  single  metal  may  be  steadier  in  value  than  two  com- 
bined, and  the  evidence  of  history  shows  that  silver  is  more  liable 
to  depreciation  than  gold.  The  argument  derived  from  the  advan- 
tages to  exchange  transactions  is  to  a  slight  extent  admitted,  but 
it  is  pointed  out  that  the  factors  which  affect  the  foreign  exchanges 
are  so  numerous,  and  are  so  rapidly  eliminated  in  the  course  of 
trade,  that  a  radical  currency  change  need  not  be  adopted  for  this 
purpose.  It  is  also  shown  that,  even  when  most  European  countries 
were  bimetallic,  fluctuations  in  the  exchange  price  of  silver  took 
place  ;  and  stiH  more  that,  where  it  is  the  less  valuable  metal  that 
IS  in  course  of  depreciation,  bimetallism  can  afford  no  aid.  The 
assumed  tendency  of  the  bimetallic  scheme  to  produce  a  higher 
scale  of  prices  than  would  otherwise  prevail  is  dwelt  on  by  oppo- 
nents as  a  proof  of  its  inherently  vicious  character.  The  claim  to 
benefit  the  world  by  adding  to  its  stock  of  money  places  himetal- 
tists  in  the  same  class  with  the  advocates  of  inconvertible  paper 
money,  and  shows  the  absence  of  reason  in  their  views.  Their 
position  becomes  the  same  as  that  of  the  Birmingham  currency 
schooL  The  proposition  that  the  quantity  of  money  is  of  no  con- 
sequence since  prices  vary  in  proportion  to  it  is  cited  as  conclusive, 
and  the  contempt  so  frequently  expressed  for  bimetallists  is  ac- 
counted for  by  their  advocacy  of  this  principle  of  the  beneficial 
effects  of  an  increased  amount  of  money.  To  the  contention  that 
bimetallism  is  the  necessary  condition  for  a  universal  coinage  system 
the  answer  is,  that  the  idea  of  universal  coinage  is  premature,  and 
that  the  gradual  introduction  of  the  gold  standard  is  desirable  as 
preparing  the  way  for  a  future  universal  coinage  based  on  gold 
monometallism.  On  the  practical  question  as  to  the  actual  intro- 
duction  of  the  system,  the  monometallists  deny  the  possibility  of 


1  See  Daua  Horton's  paper  on  the  Position  of  Law  in  the  Doctrin4  qf  Money, 
presented  to  the  monetary  conference  of  18S1  (Appendix  ix  C). 

*  On  p,  721,  above,  the  theory  of  money  value  has  been  stated,  and  the  objec- 
tions to  the  cost  of  prodcction  theory  given.  It  is  strange  to  find  Jevons 
arguing  (in  common  with  Bagehot  and  Prof.  Price)  that  the  value  of  money 
ultimately  depends  on  cost  of  production,  when  his  examination  of  that  doc- 
trine in  general  is  conaidered.  Compare  ConUmp,  Rev.  (May  18S1)  with  Jevons's 
Thwry  of  Pol  Eeon.,  p.  201  »q. 

*  Hodem  blmetalUslB  freely  admit  that  two  different  bimetallic  systems— 
I.e.,  :!-ring  different  xatloB— could  not  e:ast,  for  each  would  drain  the  oUter  of 


forming  a  unffcreSI  RareSUlTleagire  which  Would  not  he  liable  to 
be  broken  up  by  war,  or  impaired  by  some  of  the  states  which  com- 
'  pos^d  it  issuing  inconvertible  paper.  On  the  otiier  hajid,  the  various 
international  conventions  for  postal  pui-poses,  extradition,  com- 
mercial arrangements,  and  other  matters  of  interest,  are  considered 
by  bimetallists  as  evidences  of  the  feasibility  of  their  plan.* 

The  above  summary  gives  the  main  arguments  on  each  side 
of  the  discus^on  as  given  by  the  advocates  of  the  contending 
principles.  A  short  consideration  will  show  that  the  controversy 
may  be  suitably  divided  into  three  heads,  viz. — (1)  the  possibility 
of  constructing  a  universal  bimetallic  system  which  shall  be  in 
accordance  with  sound  economic  principle  ;  (2),  if  the  first  question 
be  answered  in  the  affirmativi,  the  comparative  merits  of  this 
system  as  opposed  to  the  present  variety  of  systems,  or  a  futiu'e 
universal  gold-standard  system  :  and  (3)  the  expediency  undcfr 
present  circumstances  of  nations  m  general,  and  England  in  parti- 
cular, joining  in  the  proposed  convention.  Each  of  these  topics 
calls  for  some  remai-k.  (1)  The  possibility  of  a  bimetallic  system 
can  hardly  be  denied.  Under  all  the  difficulties  attending  its 
existence  in  a  single  countiy,  it  was  retained  in  practical  work- 
ing in  France  during  the  early  part  of  the  18th  century,  and  it 
is  plain  that  a  widely-extended  league  would  afford  a  better  field 
for  its  action.  It  is  quite  possible  that  national  preferences  for  one 
metal  '-"  the  other  would  be  displayed,  but  this  would  be  no 
hindrance,  since  the  exchanges  would  be  related  by  the  legal  rate, 
and  prices  would  depend  on  the  total  quantity  of  both  metals 
(the  amount  of  gold  being  multiplied  by  the  legal  ratio,  and  added 
to  the  amoiint  of  silver).*^  The  objection  which  denies  the  power  of 
Governments  to  fix  the  relative  values  of  gold  and  silver,  and  which 
is  supported  by  the  instance  of  the  extreme  case  of  silver  being 
made  equal  in  value  to  gold,  may  be  set  aside  by  the  consideration 
that  the  use  of  the  precious  metals  takes  two  forms — (a)  their  use 
as  commodities,  (b)  their  use  as  money.  Since  the  state  can 
influence  the  demand  for  these  metals  as  money,  and  since  therefore 
it  can  raise  the  value  of  either  of  them  by  this  increased  demand,  it 
follows  that,  within  assignable  limits,  it  can  fix  the  ratios  between 
them,  and  that  these  limits  are  *'the  i-atio  which  would  subsist 
between  their  values  if  gold  were  demonetized,  and  that  which 
would  subsist  if  silver  were  demonetized."*  The  possibility  of  bi- 
metallism, if  oil  nations  were  agreed,  is  allowed  by  some  mono- 
metallists {e.g^,  Professor  Je\Gcs},  and  an  unconscious  argument  to 
this  effect  was  given  by  the  proposal  of  Chevalier,  at  the  time  of  the 
Australian  gold  discoveries,  to  adopt  silver  as  the  standard  and 
demonetize  gold,  which  is  a  clear  recognition  of  the  force  of  law  in 
monetary  questions.  It  is  therefore  reasonable  to  answer  in  che 
bimetallists'  favour  the  question  fiist  raised.  (2)  The  corsiderations 
to  be  taken  into  account  under  the  second  head  are  far  more  com- 
plex, and  do  not  admit  of  accurate  determination.  The  present 
currency  systems  of  England  and  "the  Scandinavian  Union  are 
based  on  the  composite  system,  and  afi"ord  the  greatest  satisfaction 
to  the  inhabitants  of  those  countries.  The  bimetallic  system  of 
the  Latin  Union  has  been  suspended,  the  introduction  of  silver 
as  the  principal  money  not  being  desired  by  the  various  peoples 
concerned.  Germany  has  lost  considerably  by  the  sales  of  depre- 
ciated silver,  and,  were  a  gold  standard  once  firmly  established,  it 
is  not  lilcelythat  any  wish  for  change  would  be  manifested.  "With 
silver  countries  the  case  is  different.  They  have  to  receive  masses 
of  depreciated  silver  and  to  give  commodities  in  exchange,  while 
their  purchasing  power  is  reduced  owing  to  the  greater  relative 
value  of  gold  to  silver.  It  would  therefore  be  clearly  advantageous 
for  silver-using  countries  that  a  system  should  be  adopted  which 
would  raise  the  value  of  their  money,  and  save  them  from  the 
necessity  of  importing  large  quantities  of  silver  to  produce  a  proper 
adjustment.  The  ultimate  consequences  of  the  complete  demone- 
tization of  silver  as  regards  silver- using  countries  are  not  so  clear. 
The  supply  of  gold  might  suffice  for  all  wants,  and  might  furnish 
abetter  currency  than  the 'heavier  silver.  The  preservation  of 
two  separate  monometallic  systems,  of  gold  for  the  more  advanced 
countries  of  Europe  and  the  United  States,  of  silver  for  Russia  and 
India,  would,  when  the  superfluous  stock  of  silver  had  "passed  to 
the  East,  present  little  difficulty  after  equilibrium'  was  attained. 
The  new  ratio  between  silver  and  gold  would  become  established, 
and  silver  prices  in  silver-using  countries  would  he  higher  in  pro- 
portion to  the  fall  in  the  value  of  silver.  It  is  therefore  plain  that 
a  suitable  adjustment  would  be  reached  under  any  variety  of 
currency  systems,  and  it  may  therefore  be  concluded  that  the 
comparative  merits  of  the  competing  standards  are  not  capable  of 


*  The  principal  sources  for  the  above  summary,  besides  works  before  cited, 
are  the  pamphlets  of  8eyd,  Cemuschi,  and  De  lAveleye,  on  the  bimetallist 
side,  as  well  as  the  articles  of  the  latter  in  the  Fort,  and  CoiUemp.  Revirw$. 
The  m6nometalli8t  arguments  are  given  by  Prof.  Jevons  (ConUmp.,  May  1881X 
Mr  R.  Giffen  (Essays  in  Financt,  pp.  286-310),  and  Lord  ^erbrooke  (Nineteenth 
Century,  April  1882).  See  also  the  Bepoi-t  of  the  Paris  conference,  1881,  and 
Mr  T.  H.  Farrer,  The  StaU  in  Us  Selation  to  Trade^  pp.  49  52. 

s  It  is  assumed  that  the  other  Eactora  which  Influence  the  value  cX  money 
(see  p.  722,  above)  remain  constant. 

6  Mr  J.  J.  Mnrphy  in  Dublin  StcxHstical  JoumaJ.,  vol  viU.  p.  282.  Bee  also 
M.  Walras,  Journal  (Ut  Bconomiitcs,  May  ISSl,  "Tli^orie  Uath6mati%u9  da 
bimdtalhame." 

XVL  —  93 


738 


M  0  N  — M  0  N 


bein^  decided  "at  present.  The  immediate  introduction  of  a 
universal  /^old  currency  ia  by  the  admisision  of  all  parties  eminently 
undesirable,  and  this  is  the  only  settled  point  ia  the  controversy. 
(3)  Tlie  iast  head  which  the  bimetallic  question  embraces  is  the 
practical  e.\i>cdiency  of  joining  in  a  bimetallic  league  with 
1  ratio  of  1  to  15^.  "With  "regard  to  this  aspect  of  the  question 
tho  answer,  for  England  at  least,  ought  to  bo  a  negative  one.  The 
present  Engli^h  monetary  system  has  worked  well.  It  is  iirnjy 
rooted  in  English  habits,  and  is  not  therefore  to  be  lightly  aban- 
doned. Again,  the  intcresta  of  English  creditors  are  plainly  opposed 
to  any  movement  calculated  to  raise  the  value  of  silver  relatively  to 
gold,  and  to  depreciate  prices  in  general.  Tho  threat  of  some  bi- 
metallists,  that  all  nations  will  bo  driven  to  adopt  a  gold  standard, 
and  thus  produce  a  crisis  in  tho  English  money  market  by  the 
resulting  gold  drain,  is  of  no  weight ;  any  drain  of  English  gold  will 
hav«  to  be  paid  for  at  a  high  price,  and  tho  simple  expedient  of 
raising  the  uank-rato  will  restore  as  much  bullion  as  is  needed  in 
England.  Tho  interests  of  other  countries  cannot  be  so  clearly 
determined.  A  state  like  Germany,  holding  a  largo  stoi'o  of  depre- 
ciated silver,  may  desire  other  states  to  become  bimetallic,  but  will 
hardly  desire  to  do  so  herself.  Tho  interests  of  India  and  other 
silver-standard  countries  have  been  considered  before.  When  all 
these  aspects  of  the  question  have  been  examined  the  most  probable 
conclusion  is,  that  the  chances  of  a  bimetallic  league  in  the  imme- 
diate future  are  very  small,  and  that  future  monetary  evolution  will 
be  ruled  rather  by  the  course  of  events,  and  the  pressure  of  circum- 
stances in  each  separate  state,  than  by  the  ccmscious  deliberations 
of  an  international  conference. 

Bibliogrnphy. — The  literature  of  the  vai-ious  questions  connected 
with  money  is  very  extensive,  and  only  a  brief  notice  of  it  can  be 
given  here.  The  principal  authority  among  the  Greeks  is  Aristotle, 
who  in  two  passages  {Kic,  Efk.,  v.  5  ;  Pol.,  i.  9}  has  discussed  the 
qualities  of  money,  and  pointed  out  its  functions  with  great  clear- 
ness. Xenophon  also,  in  his  work  Oti  the  Athenian  Utate,  dealt 
with  the  value  of  the  precious  metals,  though  his  views  are  partially 
erroneous.  The  only  passages  worth  noticing  in  Latin  literature 
are  those  of  Pliny,  who  seems  to  have  held  a  form  of  th»  mercantile 
theory,  and  Paulus,  who,  in  a  fragment  preserved  in  the  Digest,  has 
treated  of  the  origin  of  money.  The  mediaeval  literature  embraces 
several  works  dealing  specially  with  the  question  of  changes  in  the 
standard  of  money,  which  were  condemned  by  the  theologians.  The 
first  treatise  professedly  on  the  special  subject  of  money  is  a  work 
by  Nicholas  Oresme,  bishop  of  Lisieux  (o6.  1382),  entitled  De  Originc, 
Natura,  Jure,  ct  Mutationibu^  Monetarum,  reprinted  in  1864  (Paris) 
by  Wolowski,  and  even  now  worth  reading.  The  next  work  to 
be  noticed  is  the  De  Monctantm  Potcstatc  simul  ct  Utilitatc  libellus 
(Nuremberg,  1542),  a  fragment  of  a  larger  treatise  on  economics,  of 
Gabriel  Biel  {ob.  1495).  It  has  been  remarked  that  "the  favourite 
Subject  of  the  economists  of  the  16th  century  was  that  of  money." 
The  first  of  these  works  to  be  noticed  is  De  Monets  CudcndsR  Paiione 
by  Copernicus,  reprinted  along  with  the  work  of  Oresme  above 
mentioned.  At  a  later  date  the  Jesuit  Mariana  discussed  the  varia- 
tions in  prices  under  the  title  Dc  Mvnetx  Afutationc.  In  the  same 
century  an  anonymous  work  appeared  in  German,  with  the  title 
Gemein^  Stiinm€nA>on  dcr  Muntzc  (1530).  In  1588  Davanzati  issued 
Lesione  delle  Monete,  advocating  a  bimetallic  system.  The  problem 
of  the  elevation  of  prices  caused  by  the  American  mines  led  to  the 
issue  of  several  works,  owe  of  tho  most  remarkable  being  the 
Dialogues  of  William  Staflbrd  (1581). 

In  the  17th  century  Sir  W.  Petty  dealt  with  money  in  a  tract. 


Quantulumcnmgue  (1682).  The  recoinage  of  1696  called  fortli- 
Lowndes's  Esaay  for  the  Amendment  of  the  Silver  Coins,  and  Locke't 
Further  Cwisiderations  conecmiiig  raising  thi  Value  of  Money.  In 
the  18th  century  the  Tfcjwrte  of  Sir  I.  Newton,  as  Master  of  the  Mint,, 
are  valuable.  Cantillon's  Essai  (Paris,  1755)  contains  in  its  2d  and 
3d  parts  a  sound  account  of  currency.  Harris's  £ssay  on  Money  ' 
and  Coins  (1757)  is  also  useful.  An  earlier  tract  by  Rice  Vaughan, 
Discourse  of  Coin  and  Cuinage  (1675),  is  brief,  but  correct  in  prin- 
ciple. Adam  Smith's  Ip'calth  of  Kations  (London,  1776)  discusses 
the  subject  of  money  ia  B.  i.  chs.  4  and  5,  while  seigniorage  is 
examined  in  B.  iv.  ch.  6.  The  treati.sc.  The  Coins  of  tht  Rcolm 
(London,  1805),  by  tho  first  earl  of  Liverpool,  elaborately  disrasscd 
the  question  of  tho  proper  standard,  and  has  powerfully  influenced 
monetary  legislation  in  England  and  Germany.  Ricardo'i  pam- 
lihlets  on  the  bullion  question  added  to  the  knowledge  of  the  laws 
which  regulated  a  depreciated  currency.  Senior,  in  his  I^edures 
on  the  Cost  of  obtaining  Money  (London,  1829),  developed  the  theory 
of  the  international  distribution  of  the  precious  metals. 

The  last  half  century  has  been  a  time  of  active  discussion  regard- 
ing monetary  questions, — the  gold  discoveries,  international  coin- 
age, decimal  coinage,  bimetallism,  the  resumption  of  specie  pay- 
ments in  countries  where  an  inconvertible  currency  has  existed,' 
each  of  these  topics  having  had  its  special  literature.  Some  of  these 
works  have  been  mentioned  when  dealing  with  the  special  questions 
they  refer  to,  and  these,  in  turn,  refer  to  nisny  others.  It  will 
suffice  here  to  mention  more  general  works.  The  theory  of  money 
is  dealt  with  by  the  leading  English  economists  in  their  systematic 
works  (ilill.  Principles,  B.  iii.  chs.  7-10,  19,  21  ;  Fawcett,  Manual, 
B.  iii.  chs.  5,  6,  15,  16  ;  Shadwell,  System,  B.  iiL  chs.  1-3  and  8), 
also  by  Cherbuliez  (Pricis,  B.  ii.  ch.  3,  vol.  i.  and  B.  iL  ch.  3,  vol. 
ii.).  Chevalier  has  devoted  the  third  volume  of  his  Cours  (Paris, 
1842-50)  to  the  subject,  with  the  title  of  "  La  Monnaie."  The  late 
Professor  W.  S.  Jevons's  valuable  work.  Money  and  the  Mechanism  of 
Exchange,  and  Professor  Hussey  Walsh's  concise  Treatise  on  Metallic 
Currency  (Dublin,  1850)  may  also  be  useji.  More  elaborate  than 
either  of  these  is  F.  A.  Walker's  Money,  the  most  comprehensive, 
work  on  the  sufjject  in  English  ;  his  smaller  work.  Money  in  its 
Relation  to  Trade  and  Industry,  is  likewise  very  good.  Wolowski's 
VOr  et  V Argent  contains  much  information,  as  does  also  Knies's 
Das  Geld.  E.  Seyd's  Bullion  and  Foreign  Exchanges  is  serviceable, 
but  the  changes  since  its  publication  (1869)  deprive  it  of  most  of 
its  value.  The  various  editions  of  Tate's  Cambist  give  the  most 
accurate  (though  often  imperfect)  statements  as  to  the  facts  of 
currency.  Jacob's  work  on  The  ■  Producticn  and  Consumption  of 
the  Precious  Metals  gives  many  interesting  details,  though  the 
conclusions  are  often  fanciful,  and  the  authorities  relied  on  not 
trustworthy.  The  recent  work  of  Del  Mar,  History  of  the  Precious 
Metals  (London,  1880),  furnishes  a  criticism  and  continuation  of 
Jacob,  and  supplies  many  new  details.  His  criticism  of  the 
"  cost  \J  production  "  theory  as  applied  to  gold  and  silver  is  especi- 
ally useful.  Some  of  his  views  on  the  moral  aspects  of  the  question 
need  qualification.  Professor  Sumner's  History  of  the  American 
Currency  may  be  relied  upon  for  its  facts.  The  Reports  of  the  various 
conferences  also  supply  abundant  information  on  their  special  topics. 
Among  those  may  be  mentioned  the  Proceedings  of  the  Paris  con- 
ferences of  1867,  1878,  and  1881  ;  the  Decimal  Coinage  Commission 
(1868)  ;  the  French  Enqutk  Monitaire  (1870)  ;  and  the  Report  of  the 
Committee  of  the  House  of  Commons  on  the  Depreciation  of  Silver 
(1876).  The  Reports  of  the  (English)  Mint  furnish  information  as  to 
the  coinage  changes  of  each  preceding  year.  (C.  F.  B,  ^ 


MONFERRATO,  or  Montferrat,  an  ancient  marquisato 
of  North  Italy,  in  the  valley  of  the  Tanaro,  the  name  of 
which  still  survives  in  the  luUer  title  (Casale  Monferrato) 
of  the  town  of  Casale.  The  princes  of  Monferrato  were 
among  the  most  powerful  Italian  families  of  the  Middle 
Ages.  Among  them  were  several  famous  crusaders : 
Conrad,  prince  of  Tyre  from  1187  to  1192,  the  valiant 
opponent  of  Saladin ;  and  Boniface,  king  of  The.ssalonica 
from  118.3  to  1207.  In  1303,  on  the  extinction  of  the 
male  line,  the  marquiaate  passed  to  Theodore  Pala;ologU3 
through  his  mother,  the  empress  Irene.  The  Palajologi 
became  extinct  in  1533.  The  duchy  was  subsequently 
attached  to  Mantua,  and  ultimately  absorbed  in  Savoy  in 
the  beginning  of  last  century. 

MONQE,  O.ispARD  (1746-1818),  French  mathemati- 
cian, the  inventor  of  dcscri[)tive  geometry,  was  born  at 
BcT.une  on  the  10th  May  1740.  He  was  educated  first  at 
the  collc;];c  of  the  Oratorians  at  Beaune,  and  then  in  their 
college  at  Lyons, — where,  at  sixteen,  the  year  after  he  had 


been  learning  physics,  he  was  made  a  teacher  of  it. 
Returning  to  Beaune  for  a  vacation,  he  made,  on  a  large 
scale,  a  plan  of  the  town,  inventing  the  methods  of  obser- 
vation and  constructing  the  necessary  instruments ;  the 
plan  was  presented  to  the  town,  and  preserved  in  their 
library.  An  officer  of  engineers  seeing  it  WTOte  to  recom- 
mend Mongo  to  the  commandant  of  the  military  school  at 
Miziires,  and  he  was  received  as  draftsman  and  pupil  in 
tlio  practical  school  attached  to  that  institution ;  the 
school  itself  was  of  too  aristocratic  a  character  to  allow  of 
his  admission  to  it.  His  manual  skill  was  duly  appreci- 
ated :  "I  was  a  thousand  times  tempted,"  he  said  long 
afterwards,  "to  tear  up  my  drawings  in  disgust  at  the 
esteem  in  which  they  were  held,  as  if  I  had  been  good  for 
nothing  better."  An  opportunity,  however,  ]ircscnted  itself: 
being  required  to  work  out  from  data  supplied  to  him  tho 
"  defilement "  of  a  proposed  fortress  (an  operation  then 
only  performed  by  a  long  arithmetical  process),'*  Monge, 
substitutine  for  this  a  geometrical  method,  obtained  the 


M  O  N— M  O  N 


739^ 


result  80  quickly  that  the  commandant  at  first  refused  to 
receive  it — the  time  necessary  for  the  work  had  not  been 
taken ;  but  upon  examination  the  value  of  the  diocovery 
was  recognized,  and  the  method  was  adopted.  And  llonge, 
continuing  his  researches,  arrived  at  that  general  method 
of  the  application  of  geometry  to  the  arts  of  construc- 
tion which  is  now  called  descriptive  geometry.  But  such 
was  the  system  in  France  before  the  Revolution  that  the 
officers  instructed  in  the  method  were  strictly  forbidden 
to  communicate  it  even  to  those  engaged  in  other  branches 
of  the  public  service;  and  it  was  not  until  many  years  after- 
wards that  an  account  of  it  was  published.  The  method 
consists,  as  is  well  known,  in  the  use  of  the  two  halves  of 
a  sheet  of  paper  to  represent  say  the  planes  of  xy  and  xz 
at  right  angles  to  each  other,  and  the  consequent  repre- 
sentation of  points,  lines,  and  figures  in  space  by  means 
of  their  plan  and  elevation,  placed  in  a  determinate  relative 
position. 

In  1768  Monge  became  professor  of  mathematics,  and 
In  1771  professor  of  physics,  at  M^ziires;  ia  1778  he 
married  Madame  Horbon,  a  young  widow  whom  he  had 
previously  defended  in  a  very  spirited  manner  from  an 
unfounded  charge;  in  1780  he  was  appointed  to  a  chair 
of  hydraulics  at  the  Lyceum  in  Paris  (held  by  him  together 
with'his  appointments  at  Meziferes),  and  was  received  as  k 
member  of  the  Academy ;  his  intimate  friendship  with 
Bertliollet  began  at  this  time.  In  1783,  quitting  Meziferes, 
he  was,  on  the  death  of  Bezout,  appointed  examiner  of 
naval  candidates.  Although  pressed  by  the  minister  to 
prepare  for  them  a  complete  course  of  mathematics,  he 
declined  to  do  so,  on  the  ground  that  it  would  deprive 
Madame  Bezout  of  her  only  income,  arising  from  the  sale 
of  the  works  of  her  late  husband ;  he  wrote,  however 
(1786),  his  Traite  ilementaire  de  la  Statique. 

Monge  contributed  (1770-1790)  to  the  Memoirs  of  the 
Academy  of  Turin,  the  Memoires  des  SavanU  JEtrangers  of 
the  Academy  of  Paris,  the  Memoires  of  the  same  Academy, 
and  the  Annates  de  Chimie,  various  mathematical  and 
physical  papers.  Among  these  may  be  noticed  the  memoir 
"  Sur  la  th^orie  des  d6blais  et  des  remblais "  (Mem,  de 
i'Acad.  de  Parts,  1781),  which,  while  giving  a  remarkably 
elegant  investigation  in  regard  to  the  problem  of  earth- 
work referred  to  in  the  title,  establishes  in  connexion  with 
it  his  capital  discovery  of  the  curves  of  curvature  of  a 
surface.  Euler,  in  his  paper  on  curvature  in  the  Berlin 
Me/noirs  tot  1760,  had  considered,  not  the  normals  of  the 
surface,  but  the  normals  of  the  plane  sections  through  a 
particular  normal,  so  that  the  question  of  the  intersection 
of  successive  normals  of  the  surface  had  never  presented 
itself  to  him.  Monge's  memoir  just  referred  to  gives  the 
ordinary  differential  equation  of  the  curves  of  curvature, 
and  establishes  the  general  theory  in  a  very  satisfactory 
manner ;  but  the  application  to  the  interesting  particular 
case  of  the  ellipsoid  was  first  made  by  him  in  a  later  paper 
in  1795.  A  memoir  in  the  volume  for  1783  relates  to 
the  production  of  water  by  the  combustion  of  hydrogen ; 
but  Monge's  results  in  this  matter  had  been  anticipated 
by  Watts  and  Cavendish. 

In  1792,  on  the  creation  by  the  Legislative  Assembly 
of  an  executive  council,  Monge  accepted  the  office  of 
minister  of  the  marine,  but  retained  it  only  until  April 
1793.  "When  the  Committee  of  Public  Safety  made  an 
appeal  to  the  savants  to  assist  in  producing  the  materiel 
required  for  the  defence  of  the  republic,  he  applied  him- 
self wholly  fo  these  operations,  and  distinguished  himself 
by  his  indefatigable  activity  therein ;  he  wrote  at  this 
time  his  Description  de  I'art  defabriquer  les  canons,  and 
his  Avis  axuc  ouvriers  en  fer  tvr  la  fabrication  de  I'acier. 
He*  took  a  very  active  part  in  the  measures  for  the 
establishment  of  the  Normal  School  (which  existed  only 


during  the  first  four  months  of  Jie  year  1795),  and  of 
the  School  for  Public  Works,  afterwards  the  Polytechnic 
School,  and  was  at  each  of  them  professor  for  descriptive- 
geometry  ;  his  methods  in  that  science  were  first  pub-  ■ 
lished  in  the  form  in  which  the  shorthand  writers  took, 
down  his  lessons  given  at  the  Normal  School  in  1795,  and' 
again  in  1798-99.  In  1796  Monge  was  sent  into  Italy 
with  Berthollet  and  some  artists  to  receive  the  pictures 
and  statues  levied  from  several  Italian  towns,  and  made 
there  the  acquaintance  of  General  Bonaparte.  Two  years 
afterwards  he  was  sent  to  Bome  on  a  political  mission, 
which  terminated  in  the  establishment,  under  Massena,  of 
the  shortlived  Roman  republic ;  and  he  thence  joined  the 
expedition  to  Egypt,  taking  part  with  his  friend  Berthollet, 
as  well  in  various  operations  of  the  war  as  in  the  scientific 
labours  of  the  Egyptian  Institute  of  Sciences  and  Arts  ; 
they  accompanied  Bonaparte  to  Syria,  and  returned  with 
him  in  1798  to  France.  Monge  was  appointed  president 
of  the  Egyptian  commission,  and  he  resumed  his  connexiou 
with  the  ?„lyteclmic  School.  His  later  mathematical 
papers  are  published  (1794-1816)  in  the  Journal  and  the 
Correspondance  of  the  Polytechnic  School.  On  the  forma- 
tion of  the  Senate  he  was  appointed  a  member  of  that: 
body,  with  an  ample  provision  and  the  title  of  count  of 
Pelusium  ;  but  on  the  fall  of  Napoleon  he  was  deprived  of 
all  his  honours,  and  even  excluded  from  the  list  of  mem- 
bers of  the  reconstituted  Institute.  He  died  at  Paris  on 
the  28th  July  1818. 

For  further  information  see  B.  Brisson,  Notice  hisiariqxie  sut 
Gaspard  Monge  ;  Dupin,  Easai  historique  rur  la  services  et  la  tra- 
vatix  scicntijiqua  de  Gaspard  Monge,  Paris,  1819,  which  contains, 
(pp.  162-166)  a  list  of  ilonge's  memoirs  and  works ;  and  the  bio- 
graphy by  Arago  {(Euvra,  t  ii.,  1854). 

Alonge's  various  mathematical  papers  are  to  a  considerable 
extent  reproduced  in  the  Applkalion  de  FAnalyse  d  la  Giamitrie, 
4th  edition  (last  revised  by  the  author),  Paris,  1819 — the  pure  text 
of  this  is  reproduced  in  the  5th  edition  (rev-ue,  coi-rigee  et  annotaa 
par  M.  Liouviile),  Paris,  1850,  which  contains  also  Gauss's  Jlcmoir, 
"  Disquisitiones  geneiales  circa  superficies  curvas,"  and  some  vain-- 
able  notes  by  the  editor.  The  other  principal  separate  works  are 
Traite  ilementaire  de  la  Statique,  8'  edition,  canformie  A  la  prici- 
dtnte,  par  M.  Bachette,  et  suivit  oCitne  Note  etc,  par  M.  Cauchy, 
Paris,  1846;  and  the  Oiomitrie  Descriptive  (originating,  as  mentioned, 
above,  in  the  lessons  given  at  the  Normal  School).  'The  4th  edition, 
published  shortly  after  the  author's  death,  seems  to  have  been  sub- 
stantially the  same  as  the  7th  [Giomiirie  Descriptive  par  G.  Monge, 
suivie  (Tune  thiorie  da  Ombra  et  de  la  Perspective,  extraite  dapapiers 
de  I'aiUeur,  par  M.  Brisson,  Paris,  1847).  (A.  CA.) 

MONGHTR,  or  MnifGrR,  a  district  in  the  lieutenant- 
governorship  of  Bengal,  lying  between  24°  22'  and  25°  49' 
N.  lat.,  and  85°  40'  and  86°  52'  R  long.,  is  bounded  on 
the  N.  by  Darbhangah  and  Bhigalpur,  on  the  E.  by  Bh&gal- 
pur,  on  the  S.  by  the  SantAl  Parganis  and  HazAribdgh,  and 
on  the  W.  by  Gay4,  Patni,  and  Darbhangah,  with  an  area 
of  3922  square  miles.  The  Ganges  divides  the  district 
into  two  portions.  The  northern,  intersected  by  the  Burl 
Gandak  and  TiljugA,  two  important  tributaries  of  the 
(ranges,  is  always  liable  to  inundation  during  the  rainy 
season,  and  is  a  rich,  flat,  wheat  and  rice  country,  support- 
ing a  large  population.  A  considerable  area,  immedi- 
ately bordering  the  banks  of  the  great  rivets,  is  devoted  to 
permanent  pasture.  Immense  quantities  of  buffaloes  are 
sent  every  hot  season  to  graze  on  these  marshy  prairies  ; 
and  the  ghi,  or  clarified  butter,  made  from  their  milk 
forms  an  important  article  of  export  to  Calcutta.  'i<  To  the. 
south  of  the  Ganges  the  country  is  dry,  much  less  fertile, 
and  broken  up  by  fragmentary  ridges.  The  soil  consists 
of  quartz,  mixed  in  varying  proportions  with  mica.  Ranges 
of  hills  intersect  this  part  of  the  district,  and  in  the 
extreme  south  form  conical  peaks,  densely  covered  with 
jungle,  but  of  no  great  height.  Irrigation  is  necessary 
throughout  the  section  lying  on  the  south  of  the  Ganges. 

In  1872  the  population  of  MonghjT  was  1,812,986  (malen 
897,074  :  females    91£,912):   Hindus,  1,613,S4S  ;  Uobammedanal 


740 


M  O  N  — M  O  N 


182,269  ;  the  remainder,  consisting  mainly  of  aboriginal  tribes  and 
bill  races,  profess  primi'  cj  forma  of  faith.  There  are  alsd  a  few 
Buddhists  and  Christiantj.  Seven  towns  contained  upwards  of 
5000  inhabitants  in  1872— Monghyr,  59,698  ;  Shaikhpura,  11,530  ; 
Jamalpur,  10,453;  Barbiy^,  10,406;  Surijgarha,  7935  ;  Barbigha, 
13362  ;  and  Jamiii,  5197.  No  trustworthy  statistics  of  the  area  under 
cultivation  exist  since  the  revenue  survey  in  1847,  when  it  was 
returned  at  1,311,768  acres  ;  it  is  known,  however,  that  cultiva- 
tion has  largely  extended  since  then.  The  land  is  held  principally 
onder  the  tenure  known  as  bkdoli-jot,  by  which  the  tenant  pays 
rent,  either  in  money  or  in  kind,  according  to  the  out-turn  of  his 
crops  in  each  year.  It  is  of  ancient  standing,  and  popular  with 
the  tenantry.  Monghyr  is  famous  for  its  manufactures  of  iron  : 
firearms,  swords,  and  iron  articles  of  every  kind  are  produced  in 
Abundance,  but  are  noted  for  cheapness  rather  than  quality.  The 
irt  of  inlaying  sword-hilts  and  other  articles  with  gold  and  silver 
affords  employment  to  a  few  families.  The  most  important  manu- 
facture, however,  is  that  of  indigo,  conducted  by  means  of  Euror 
pean  capital  and  under  European  supervision.  The  total  area 
under  indigo  is  estimated  at  about  10,000  acres,  with  an  average 
out-turn  of  2900  cwts.  of  dye.  Minor  industries  include  weaving, 
dyeing,  cabinet-making,  boot-making,  soap-boilino;,  and  pottery. 
The  principal  exports,  sent  to  Calcutta  both  by  rail  and  river,  are 
oil-seeds,  wheat,  rice,  indigo,  gram  and  pulse,  hides,  and  tobacco  ; 
and  the  chief  imports  consist  of  European  piece  goods,  salt,  and 
sugar.  ,  The  valueof  the  formerin  1876-77  was  £430,000,  andofthe 
latter  £314,000.  Education  is  making  f;iir  progress,  and  in  1^74- 
76  there  were  229  Government  and  aided  schools,  attended  by  6675 
pupils.     The  climate  is  dry  and  healthy.     The  temperature  is  high 


in  the  hot  weather,  reaching  107*  Fahr.  in  May  ;  bat  the  cold 
weather  is  cool  and  pleasant.  The  5vcrag9  ann-ual  rainfall  is  46J 
inches.  Malarial  fever  is  comparatively  uncommon,  but  epidemics 
of  cholem  occur  frequently. 

Monghyr  was  one  of  the  principal  centres  of  the  Mohammedan 
administration  in  Bengal.  In  the  early  years  of  Brilish  rule, 
Itonghyr  formed  a  part  of  Bhagalpur,  and  was  not  created  a 
separate  district  till  1832. 

MoNGHYE,  chief  town  ana  administrative  headquarters 
of  the  above  district,  is  situated  on  the  south  bank  of  the 
Ganges  (25°  22'  N.  lat.,  86"  30'  E,  long.).  The  population 
in  1872  was  59,698:  viz.,  Hindus,  44,900;  Mohammedans, 
14,346;  Buddhists,  33;  Christians,  305;  "others,"  24. 

In  1195  Monghyr,  a  fortress  of  great  natural  strength,  appears  to 
have  been  taken  by  Muhammad  Bakhtyar  Khilji,  the  first  Aloslem 
conqueror  of  Bengal.  Henceforth  it  is  often  mentioned  by  the 
Mohammedan  chroniclers  as  a  place  of  military  importance,  and 
was  frequently  chosen  as  the  seat  of  the  local  government.  After 
1590,  when  Akbar  established  his  supremacy  over  the  Afghan 
chiefs  of  Bengal,  Monghyr  was  long  the  headquarters  of  his  general, 
Todar  Mall  ;  and  it  also  figures  prominently  during  the  rebellion 
of  Sultan  Shuja  against  his  brother,  Aurangzeb.  In  more  recent 
times  Nawab  Mir  Kasim,  in  his  war  with  the  English,  selected  it 
as  his  residence  and  the  centre  of  his  military  preparations.  The 
fame  of  Monghyr  armourers  is  said  to  date  from  the  arsenal  which 
he  established.  The  town  is  now  purely  a  civil  station,  and  in 
some  respects  one  of  the  most  picturesque  in  Bengal. 


MONGOLS 


THF  early  history  of  the  Mongols,  like  that  of  all 
central-Asian  tribes,  is  extremely  obscure.  Even  the 
meaning  of  the  name  "  Mongol  "  is  a  disputed  point,  though 
a  genera!  consent  is  now  given  to  Schott's  etymology  of  the 
frord  from  "  mong,"  meaning  brave.  From  the  earliest 
and  very  scanty  notice  we  have  of  the  Mongols  in  the 
history  of  the  T'ang  dynasty  of  China  (a.d.  619-90)  and 
in  works  of  later  times,  it  appears  that  their  original 
camping-grounds  were  along  the  courses  of  the  Kerulon, 
Upper  Nonni,  and  Argun  rivers.  But  in  the  absence  of 
all  historical  particulars  of  their  origin,  legend,  as  is  usual, 
has  been  busy  with  their  early  years.  The  Mongol  historian 
Ssanang  Ssetzen  gives  currency  to  the  myth  that  they  sprang 
from  a  blue  wolf ;  and  the  soberest  story  on  record  is  that 
their  ancestor  Budantsar  was  miraculously  conceived  of  a 
Mongol  widow.  By  craft  and  violence  Budantsar  gained 
the  chieftainship  over  a  tribe  living  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  his  mother's  tent,  and  thus  left  a  heritage  to  his  son. 
Varying  fortunes  attended  the  descendants  of  Budantsar, 
but  on  the  whole  their  power  gradually  increased,  until 
Tesukai,  the  father  of  Jenghiz  Khan,  who  was  eighth  in 
descent  from  Budantsar,  made  his  authority  felt  over  a 
considerable  area.  How  this  dominion  was  extended  under 
the  rule  of  Jenghiz  Khan  has  already  been  shown  (see 
Jenghiz  Khan),  and  when  that  great  conqueror  was  laid 
to  rest  in  the  valley  of  Keleen  in  1227  he  left  to  his  sons 
en  emoire  which  stretched  from  the  China  Sea  to  the  banks 
t>l  tne  Dnieper. 

Over  the  whole  of  this  vast  region  Jenghiz  Khan  set  his 
Second  surviving  son  Oghotai  or  Ogdai  as  khakan,  or  chief 
khan,  while  to  the  family  of  his  deceased  eldest  son  Juchi 
he  assigned  the  country  from  Kayalik  and  Kharezm  to 
the  borders  of  Bulgar  and  Saksin  "  where'er  the  hoofs  of 
Mongol  horses  had  tramped  ; "  to  Jagatai,  his  eldest  sur- 
viving son,  the  territory  from  the  borders  of  the  Uigur 
country  to  Bokhara ;  while  Tuld,  the  youngest,  received 
charge  of  the  homo  country  of  the  Mongols,  the  care  of  the 
imperial  encampment  and  family,  and  of  the  archives  of 
the  state.  The  ajipointment  of  Ogdai  as  his  successor,  be- 
ing contrary  to  the  usual  Mongol  custom  of  primogeniture, 
gave  rise  to  some  bitterness  of  feeling  among  the  followers 
of  Jagatai.  But  the  commands  of  Jenghiz  Khan  subdued 
these  murmurs,  and  Ogdai  was  finally  led  to  the  throne 


by  his  dispossessed  brother  amid  the  plaudits  of  the 
assembled  Mongols.  The  ceremony  was  completed  by 
Ogdai  making  three  solemn  genuflexions  to  the  sun,  and 
by  the  princes  taking  an  oath  by  which  they  swore  "  that 
so  long  as  there  remained  of  his  posterity  a  morsel  of  fi«ah 
which  thrown  upon  the  grass  would  prevent  the  cows  from 
eating,  or  which  put  in  the  fat  would  prevent  the  dogs 
from  taking  it,  they  would  not  place  on  the  throne  a  prince 
of  any  other  branch."  In  accordance  with  Mongol  customs, 
Ogdai  signalized  his  accession  to  the  throne  by  distribut- 
ing among  his  grandees  presents  from  his  father's  treasures, 
and  to  his  father's  spirit  he  sacrificed  forty  maidens  and 
numerous  horses.  Once  fairly  on  the  throne,  he  set  himself 
vigorously  to  foUow  up  the  conquests  won  by  his  father. 
At  the  head  of  a  large  army  he  marched  southwards  into 
China  to  complete  the  ruin  of  the  Kin  dynasty,  which  had 
already  been  so  rudely  shaken,  while  at  the  same  time  Tule 
advanced  into  the  province  of  Honan  from  the  side  of  Shense. 
Against  this  combined  attack  the  Kin  troops  made  a  vigor- 
ous stand,  but  the  skill  and  courage  of  the  Mongols  boro 
down  every  opposition,  and  over  a  hecatomb  of  slaughtered 
foes  they  captured  Kai-fung  Foo,  tie  capital  of  their  ene- 
mies. From  Kai-fung  Foo  the  emperor  fled  to  Joo-ning 
Foo,  whither  the  Jlongols  quickly  followed.  After  sus- 
taining a  siege  for  some  weeks,  and  enduring  all  the  horrors 
of  starvation,  the  garrison  submitted  to  the  Mongols,  and 
at  the  same  time  the  emperor  committed  suicide  by  hang- 
ing. Thus  fell  in  1234  the  Kin  or  "Golden"  dynasty, 
which  had  ruled  over  the  northern  portion  of  China  for 
more  than  a  century. 

But  though  Ogdai's  first  care  was  to  extend  his  empire 
in  the  rich  and  fertile  provinces  of  China,  he  was  not 
forgetful  of  the  obligation  under  which  Jenghiz  Khan's 
COTiquests  in  western  Asia  had  laid  him  to  maintain  his 
supremacy  over  the  kingdom  of  Kharezm.  This  was  the 
more  incumbent  on  him  since  JelAl  al-din,  who  had  been 
driven  by  Jenghiz  into  India,  had  returned,  reinforced  by 
the  support  of  the  sultan  of  Delhi,  whose  daughter  he  had 
married,  and,  having  reconquered  his  hereditary  domains, 
had  advanced  westward  as  far  as  Tiflis  and  Khelat.  Once 
more  to  dispossess  the  young  sultan,  Ogdai  sent  a  force 
of  300,000  men  into  Kharezm.  With  such  amazing  i«- 
pidit}-  did  this  army  march  in  pursuit  of  its  foe  that  the 


MONGOLS 


741 


advanced  Mongol  guards  reached  Amid  (Diarbelir),  wkilher 
JelAl  al-din  had  retreated,  before  that  unfortunate  sovereign 
had  any  idea  of  their''  approach.  Accompanied  by  a  few 
follcvers,  Jeldl  al-dln  fled  to  the  Kurdish  mountains,  where 
he  was  basely  murdered  by  a  peasant.  The  primary  object 
of  the  Mongol  invasion  was  thus  accomplished;  but,  with 
the  instinct  of  their  race,  they  made  this  conquest  but  a 
Btepping-stona  to  another,  and  Avithout  a  moment's  delay 
pushed  on  still  farther  westward.  Unchecked  and  almost 
unopposed,  they  overran  the  districts  of  Diarbekr,  Meso- 
potamia, Erbll;  and  Khelat,  and  then  advanced  upon 
Azerbijan.  So  great  was  the  terror  with  which  these 
fierce  warriors  inspired  the  people  of  the  provinces  they 
attacked  that  single  Mongols  are  said  to  have  slain  tlie 
inhabitants  of  entire  villages  without  a  hand  having  been 
raised  against  them.  In  the  following  year  (1236)  they 
invaded  Georgia  and  Great  Armenia,  committing  frightful 
atrocities,  sparing  neither  man  nor  woman,  young  nor  old, 
with  the  exception  of  those  whom  they  saved  to  ipinister 
to  their  wants  or  passions.  Tiflis  was  among  the  cities 
captured  by  assault,  and  Kars  was  surrendered  at  their 
approach  in  the  vain  hope  that  submission  would 'gain 
clemency  from  the  victors.  Meanwhile,  in  1235,  Ogdai, 
whose  troops  were  as  numerous  as  their  thirst  for  conquest 
was  devouring,  despatched  three  armies  in  as  many  direc- 
tions. One  was  directed  against  Corea,  one  against  the 
Sung  dynasty,  which  ruled  over  the  provinces  of  China 
80Uth  of  the  Yang-tsze  Keang,  and  the  third  was  sent  west- 
ward into  eastern  Europe.  This  last  force  was  commanded 
by  Batu,  the  son  of  Juchi,  Ogdai's  deceased  eldest  brother, 
who  took  with  him  the  celebrated  Sabutai  Bahidur  as  his 
chief  adviser.  Bulgar,  the  capital  city  of  the  Bulgats,  fell 
before  the  force  under  Sabutai,  while  Batu  pushed  on  over 
the  Volga.  With  irresistible  vigour  and  astonishing  speed 
the  Mongols  made  their  way  through  the  forests  of  Penza 
and  Tamboff,  and  appeared  before  the  "  beautiful  city  "  of 
Riazan.  For  five  days  they  discharged  a  ceaseless  storm 
of  shot  from  their  balistas,  and,  having  made  a  breach  in 
the  defences,  carried  the  city  by  assault  on  the  21st  of 
December  1237,  "The  prince,  ^-ith  his  mother,  wife, 
sons,  the  boyars,  and  the  inhabitants,  mthout  regard  to 
^e  or  sex,  were  slaughtered  with  the  savage  cruelty  of 
Mongol  revenge ;  some  were  impaled,  some  shot  at  with 
arrows  for  sport,  others  were  flayed  or  had  nails  or  splinters 
of  wood  driven  under  their  nails.  Priests  were  roasted 
alive,  and  nuns  and  maidens  ravished  in  the  churches 
before  their  relatives.  'No  eye  remained  open  to  weep 
for  the  dead.'"  Moscow,  at  this  time  a  place  of  little 
importance,  next  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  invaders,  who 
then  advanced  against  Vladimir.  After  having  held  out 
for  several  days  against  the  Mongol  attacks,  the  city  at 
length  succumbed,  and  the  horrors  of  Riazan  were  repeated. 
The  imperial  family,  with  a  vast  crowd  of  fugitives,  sought 
shelter  in  the  cathedral,  only  to  perish  by  the  swords  of  the 
conquerors  or  by  the  flames  which  reduced  it  to  ashes.  If 
possible,  a  more  dire  fate  overtook  the  inhabitants  of 
Kozelsk,  near  Kaluga,  where,  in  revenge  for  a  partial 
defeat  inflicted  on  a  Mongol  force,  the  followers  of  Batu 
held  so  terrible  a  "  carnival  of  death  "  that  the  city  was 
renamed  by  its  captors  Mobalig,  "  the  city  of  woe."  With 
the  tide  of  victory  thus  strong  in  their  favour  the  Mongols 
advanced  against  Kieff,  "the  mother  of  cities,"  and  carried 
it  by  assault.  The  inevitable  massacre  followed,  and  the 
city  was  razed  to  the  ground.  While  the  scene  of  blood- 
ehed  was  at  its  height  a  catastrophe  occurred  which  at 
any  other  time  would  have  been  considered  of  supreme 
horror.  Under  the  weight  of  a  vast  crowd  of  fugitives 
the  flat  roof  of  the  metropolitan  church  fell  in,  burying 
dl,  young  and  old,  in  a  vast  hecatomb. 
Victoriouc  and  always  advancing,  the  Mongols,  havin" 


desolated  this  portion  of  Russia,  moved  on  in  two  divisions, 
one  under  Batu  into  Hungary,  and  the  other  under  Baidar 
and  Kaidu  into  Poland.  Without  a  check,  Batu  marched 
to  the  neighbourhood  of  Pesth,  where  the  whole  force  o£ 
the  kingdom  was  arrayed  to  resist  him.  The  Himgarian 
army  was  posted  on  the  wide  heath  of  Mohi,  which  is 
bounded  by  "the  vine-clad  hills  of  Tokay,"  the  mountains 
of  Lomnitz,  and  the  woods  of  Diosgyor.  To  an  army  thus 
hemmed  in  on  all  sides  defeat  meant  nlin,  and  Batu 
instantly  recognized  the  dangerous  position  in  which  his 
enemies  had  placed  themselves.  To  add  to  his  chances  of 
success  he  determined  to  deliver  his  attack  by  night,  smd 
while  the  careless  Hungarians  were  sleeping  he  launched 
his  battalions  into  their  midst.  Panic-stricken  and  help 
less,  they  fled  in  all  directions,  followed  by  their  merciless 
foes.  Two  archbishops,  three  bishops,  and  many  of  the 
nobility  were  among  the  slain,  and  the  roads  for  two  days' 
journey  from  the  field  of  battle  were  strewn  with  corpses. 
The  king,  ""la  IV.,  was  saved  by  the  fleetness  of  his 
horse,  though  closely  pursued  by  a  body  of  Mongols,  who 
followed  at  his  heels  as  far  as  the  coast  of  the  Adriatic, 
burning  and  destroying  everything  in  their  way.  Mean- 
while Batu  captured  Pesth,  and  on  Christmas  Day  1241 
having  crossed  the  Danube  on  the  ice,  took  Gran  by  assault 
While  Batu  had  been  thus  triumphing,  the  force  under 
Baidar  and  Kaidu  had  carried  fire  and  sword  into  Poland. 
At  their  approach  the  inhabitants  of  Cracow  deserted  the 
city,  after  having  given  it  over  to  the  flames.  Disappointed 
at  the  loss  of  their  expected  spoil,  the  Mongols  advanced 
to  Wahlstatt  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Licgnitz,  where  the 
Polish  army  under  Duke  Henry  11.  of  Silesia  awaited  their 
onslaught.  With  savage  impetuosity,  the  troops  of  Baidar 
rushed  to  the  attack,  and  completely  defeated  the  Poles. 
As  usual,  no  quarter  was  given.  The  massacre  was  fright- 
ful, and  Duke  Henry  himself  was  amongst  the  slain.  It 
was  a  Mongol  habit  to  cut  off  an  ear  from  each  corpse  ol 
their  slaughtered  f oes>  and  on  this  occasion  it  is  said  thr ' 
they  filled  nine  sacks  with  these  ghastly  trophies.  Follow 
ing  the  example  of  the  inhabitants  of  Cracow,  the  peopl. 
of  Liegnitz  left  but  the  blackened  walls  of  what  had  onc( 
been  the  town  as  a  prey  for  the  Mongols,  who  without 
delay  pushed  south-eastward  into  Moravia  as  far  as  the 
vicinity  of  Troppau.  AVhile  lajnng  waste  the  country  in 
the  neighbourhood  of  that  town,  they  received  the  an- 
nouncement of  the  death  of  Ogdai,  and  at  the  same  time 
a  summons  for  Batu  to  return  eastwards  into  Mongolia. 

While  his  lieutenants  had  .been  thus  carrying  his  arms 
in  all  directions,  Ogdai  had  been  giving  himself  up  to 
ignoble  ease  and  licentiousness.  Like  many  Mongols,  he 
was  much  given  to  drink,  and  it  was  to  a  disease  produced 
by  this  cause  that  he  finally  succumbed  on  the  11th  of 
December  1241.  He  was  succeeded  by  his  son  Kuyuk,  who 
reigned  only  seven  years.  Little  of  his  character  is  known, 
but  it  is  noticeable  that  his  two  ministers  to  whom  he  left 
the  entire  conduct  of  aSairs  were  Christians,  as  also  were  hi> 
doctors,  and  that  a  Christian  chapel  stood  before  his  tent. 
This  leaning  towards  Christianity,  however,  brought  no 
peaceful  tendencies  with  it.  On  the  contrary,  we  hear  of 
an  advance  against  the  sultan  of  Rum  (Asia  Minor),  and  of 
an  expedition  into  Syria,  by  which  that  country  was  made 
tributary  to  the  Great  Mongol  empire,  of  a  fresh  campaign 
against  Corea,  and  of  another  attack  on  the  Sung  dynasty 
of  China.  On  the  death  of  Kuyuk  dissensions  which  had 
been  for  a  long  time  smouldering  between  the  houses  of 
Ogdai  and  Jagatai  broke  out  into  open  war,  and  after 
the  short  and  disputed  reigns  of  Kaidu  and  Chapai,  grand- 
sons of  Ogdai,  the  lordship  passed  away  from  the  hoiise 
of  Ogdai  for  ever. 

On  the   1st  of  July  1251   Mangu,  the  eldest  son  of  jrarg-., 
Tul^,  and  nephew  to  Ogdai,  was  elected  khakan.     With  Kban, 


742 


ai 


0  .^1  G  O  L  y 


l>erfect  imijai-tiaiit),  Maiigu  alluwed  the  light  of  hia  coun- 
tenauce  to  fall  upon  the  Christians,  Mohammedans,  and 
Buddhi.^ta  among  his  subjects,  although  Shamanism  was 
.recognized  &.t  tliu  »tat«  religion.  Two  years  after  his 
.accession  his  court  was  visited  by  Rubruquis  and  other 
Chii.'stian  monks,  who  were  hospitably  received.  The  de- 
scription given  by  Rubiuquis  of  the  khakan's  palace  at 
Karakorum  shows  how  wide  was  the  interval  which  sepa- 
i-atcd  him  from  the  nomad,  tent-living  life  of  his  fore- 
iatheis.  It  was  ".surrounded  by  brick  walls.  .  .  .  Ita 
southern  side  had  three  doors.  Its  central  hall  was  like  a 
cJiuich,  and  consisted  of  a  nave  and  two  aisles,  separated 
■  hy  columns.  Here  the  court  sat  on  great  occasions.  In 
front  of  the  throne  was  placed  a  silver  tree,  having  at  its 
base  foui  lions,  from  whose  mouths  there  spouted  into 
four  silvei  basins  >vine,  kumiss,  hydromel,  and  terasine. 
At  the  top  of  the  tree  a  silver  angel  sounded  a  trumpet 
when  the  reservoirs  that  supplied  the  four  fountains  wanted 
leplenisliing."  On  his  accession  complaints  reached  Mangu 
tliat  dissensions  had  broken  out  in  the  province  of  Persia, 
and  he  therefore  sent  a  force  under  the  command  of  his 
'ffolngu.  orothei  Hulagu  to  punish  the  Ismailites  or  Assassins,  who 
were  held  to,  be  the  cause  of  the  disorder.  Marching 
by  Samarkand  and  Kesh,  Hulagu  crossed  the  Oxus  and 
advanced  by  way  of  Balkh  into  the  province  of  Kohistan. 
The  terroi  of  the  Mongol  uame  induced  Rokn  al-din,  the 
chief  of  the  Assassins,  to  deprecate  the  WTath  of  Hulagu 
ty  offers  of  submission,  and  he  was  so  far  successful  that 
he  was  able  to  purchase  a  temiMrary  immunity  from  mas- 
sacre by  dismantling  fiftj  of  the  principal  fortresses  in 
Kohistan.  But  when  once  the  country  had  thus  been  left 
at  the  mercy  of  the  invaders,  their  belief  in  the  old  saying 
"  Stone  dead  hath  no  fellow  "  sharpened  thfeir  battle-axes, 
and,  sparing  neither  man,  woman,  nor  child,  they  extermin- 
ated the  unhappy  people.  Hulagu  then  marched  across 
the  snowy  mountains  in  the  direction  of  Baghdad.  On 
arri^  ing  before  the  town  he  demanded  its  surrender.  This 
being  lefused,  he  laid  siege  to  ihe  walls  in  the  usual  destruc- 
tive Mongol  fasliion,  and  at  length,  finding  resistance  hope- 
less, tlie  caliph  was  induced  to  give  himself  up  and  to  open 
the  gates  to  his  enemies.  On  the  15th  of  February  1263 
the  Mongols  entered  the  walls,  and,  following  their  in- 
stincts, sacked  the  city.  For  seven  days  it  waa  given  up 
to  pillage,  fire,  and  the  sword,  and  the  number  of  killed 
Tvas  said  to  have  reached  the  enormous  sum  of  800,000. 
For  the  moment  the  caliph's  life  was  spared,  and  he  was 
allowed  to  carry  away  100  wives  out  of  700  who  lived  in 
liis  harem,  as  being  those  upon  whom  "  neither  the  sun 
nor  moon  had  shone."  But  his  fate  soon  overtook  him. 
Accounts  differ  as  to  the  circumstances  of  his  death,  some 
saying  that  he  was  sewn  up  in  a  sack  and  trodden  to 
<leath  by  horses,  others  that  he  was  starved  to  death.  To 
the  Moslem  world  his  lo.s3  was  a  religious  catastrophe,  as 
by  it  Islam  lost  its  spiritual  head.  While  at  Baghdad 
Hulagu  gave  his  astronomer,  N^dsir  al-dln,  permission  to 
Ijuild  an  observatory.  The  town  of  ilaragha  was  the  site 
chosen,  and,  under  the  superintendence  of  Nisir  al-din  and 
iour  western  Asiatic  astronomers  who  were  associated  with 
iim,  a  handsome  observatory  was  built,  and  furnished  with 
*'  armillary  spheres  and  astrolabes,  and  with  a  beautifully- 
executed  terrestrial  globe  sho^ving  the  five  climates."  One 
terrible  result  of  the  Mongol  invasion  was  a  fearful  famine, 
■which  desolated  the  provinces  of  Irak-Arabi,  Mesopotamia, 
Syria,  and  B)lm.  But,  though  the  inhabitants  starved,  the 
Jlongols  had  strength  and  ener;jy  left  to  continue  their 
onward  march  into  Syria.  Aleppo  was  stormed  and 
sacked,  Damascus  surrendered,  and  Hulagu  was  meditating 
the  capture  of  Jerusalem  with  the  object  of  restoring  it  to 
the  Christians  when  he  received  the  news  of  Mangu's  death, 
and,  as  ia  dutv  bound,  at  once  set  out  on  his  return  to 


Mongolia,  leaving  Kitubuka  in  command  of  the  Mongol 
forces  in  Syria.  As  a  reward  for  his  services,  HuJagu 
received  the  investiture  of  his  conquests,  and  established 
there  the  empire  of  the  likhans. 

While  Hulagu  was  prosecuting  these  conquests  in  western 
Asia,  Mangu  and  his  ne.\t  btcther  Kublai  were  pursuing 
a  like  course  in  southern  China.  Southward  they  even 
advanced  into  Tong-king,  and  westward  they  carried  their 
arms  over  the  frontier  into  Tibet.  But  in  one  respect  there 
was  a  vast  difference  between  the  two  campaigns.  Under 
the  wise  command  of  Kublai  all  indiscriminate  massacres 
were  forbidden,  and  probably  for  the  first  time  in  Mongol 
history  the  inhabitants  and  garrisons  of  captured  cities 
were  treated  with  humanity.  While  carrying  on  the  war 
in  the  province  of  Sze-ch'uen  Mangu  was  seized  with  an 
attack  of  dysenter}',  which  proved  fatal  after  a  few  days' 
illness.  His  body  was  carried  into  Mongolia  on  the  backs 
of  two  asses,  and,  in  pursuance  of  the  custom  of  slaughter- 
ing every  one  encountered  on  the  way,  20,000  persons 
were,  according  to  Marco  Polo,  put  to  the  sword. 

At  the  Kuriltai,  or  assembly  of  notables,  which  was  held 
at  Shang-tu  after  the  death  of  Mangu,  his  brother  Ku- 
blai (see  KtTELAi  Khaji)  was  elected  khakan.  For 
thirty-five  years  he  sat  on  the  Mongol  throne,  and  at  his 
death  in  1294,  in  his  seventy-ninth  year,  he  was  succeeded 
by  his  son  Timur  Khan,  or,  as  he  was  otherwise  called, 
Uldsheitu  Khan.  The  reign  of  this  sovereign  was  chiefly 
remarkable  for  the  healing  of  the  division  which  had  for 
thirty  years  separated  the  families  of  Ogdai  and  Jagatai 
from  that  of  the  ruling  khakan.  Uldsheitu  was  succeeded 
by  his  nephew  Khaissan.  In  accordance  with  the  usual 
ceremony,  on  the  election  being  announced  four  of  the 
princes  of  the  blood  raised  the  new  khakan  aloft  on  a 
piece  of  white  felt,  two  others  supported  him,  while  a 
seventh  offered  him  the  cup.  "  Meanwhile,  while  Shaman 
offered  up  prayers  for  his  prosperity  and  sahitcd  him  by 
the  title  of  Kuluk  Khan,  carts  full  of  gold  pieces  and  rich 
tissues  were  brought  out  and  distributed.  So  many  pearls 
were  spread  on  the  ground  that  it  resembled  the  sky. 
The  feast  lasted  a  week,  during  each  day  of  which  40  oxeij 
and  4000  sheep  were  consumed.  libations  of  milk  froia 
700  sacred  cows  and  7000  ewes  were  sprinkled  on  the 
ground."  With  that  tolerance  which  so  markedly  char- 
acterized the  Mongols  at  this  period,  Kuluk  worshipped 
indiscriminately  at  the  temples  of  the  Chinese  Shang-te 
and  before  the  Buddhist  shrines,  while  at  the  same  time 
he  lent  a  favourable  countenance  to  John  of  Montecorvino, 
who,  during  the  whole  of  his  reign,  was  archbishop  of 
Peking.  Unfortunately  the  archbishop  was  not  so  tolerant 
as  the  khakan,  and  carried  on  as  fierce  a  dispute  ^ith  the 
Nestorlan  Cnristians  of  his  day  as  that  which  divided  the 
Dominicans  and  Jesuits  in  China  three  centuries  jater. 
After  a  sWjrt  reign,  and  at  the  early  age  of  thirty-one,  Kuluk 
was  gathered  to  his  fathers  in  February  1311.  His  nephew 
and  successor,  Buyantu,  was  a  man  of  considerable  culture, 
and  substantially  patronized  Chinese  literature.  Among 
other  benefits  which  he  conferred  on  letters,  he  rescued 
the  celebrated  inscription -bearing  "stone  drums,"  which 
are  commonly  said  to  bo  of  the  Chow  period  (B.C.  1122- 
2.'5.5),  from  thu  decay  and  ruin  to  which  tuey  were  left  by 
the  la.st  emperor  of  the  Kin  d)  nasty,  and  placed  them  in 
the  gateway  of  the  temple  of  Confucius  at  Peking,  where 
they  now  stand.  After  a  reign  of  nine  years  Buyantu  was 
succeeded  by  his  son  Gegen,  who  perished  in  1323  by  the 
knife  of  an  assassin, — the  first  occasion  on  which  a  reigning 
descendant  of  Jengliiz  Khan  thus  met  his  fate.  Yissun 
Timur,  who  was  the  next  sovereign,  devoted  himself  mainly 
to  the  administration  of  his  empire.  He  di\'ided  China, 
which  until  that  time  had  been  apportioned  into  twelve 
piovinces,   into   eighteen   provinces,  and  rearranged   th« 


MONGOLS 


743 


■systea  of  state  granaries,  which  had  fallen  into  disorder. 
His  court  was  visited  by  Friar  Odoric,  who  gives  a  minute 
description  of  the  palace  and  its  inhabitants.  Speaking 
of  the  palace  this  writer  says — 

"  Its  basement  was  raised  about  two  paces  from  the  ground,  and 
within  there  were  twenty-four  columns  of  gold,  and  all  the  walls 
were  hung  with  sKns  of  red  leather,  said  to  be  the  finest  In  the 
world.  In  the  midst  of  the  palace  was  a  great  jar  more  than  two 
paces  in  height,  made  of  a  certain  precious  stone  called  merdacas 
(jade) ;  its  nrice  exceeded  the  value  of  four  large  towns.  .  .  .  Into 
this  vessel  clrink  was  conducted  by  certain  conduits  from  the  court 
of  the  palace,  and  beside  it  were  many  golden  goblets,  from  which 
those  drank  who  listed.  .  .  .  When  the  khakan  sat  on  his  throne, 
the  queen  was  on  his  left  hand,  and  a  step  lower  two  others  of  his 
women,  while  at  the  bottom  of  the  steps  stood  the  other  ladies  of 
luS  family.  All  those  who  were  married  wore  upon  their  heads  the 
foot  of  a  man  as  it  were  a  cubit  and  a  half  in  length,  and  at  the 
top  of  the  foot  there  were  certain  cranes'  feathers,  the  whole  foot 
being  set  with  great  pearls,  so  that  if  there  were  in  the  whole  world 
any  fine  and  large  pearls  they  were  to  be  found  in  the  decoration 
of  those  ladies  *' 

The  following  years  were  years  of  great  natural  and 
political  convulsions.  Devastating  floods  swept  over  China, 
carry  iog  death  and  ruin  to  thousands  cf  homes ;  earthquakes 
made  desolate  whole  districts ;  and  in  more  than  one  part 
of  the  empire  the  banners  of  revolt  were  unfurled.  The 
khakans  who  now  successively  occupied  the  throne,  instead 
of  striving  to  stem  the  tide  of  discontent  and  disorder,  gave 
themselves  up  to  every  kind  of  debauchery.  As  a  natural 
consequence,  the  conduct  of  afiairs  fell  entirely  into  the 
hands  of  their  ministers,  who  but  too  often  reflected  fhe 
vices  of  their  sovereigns.  A  comet  which  appeared  in  the 
Toghon  reign  of  Toghon  Timur  Khan,  and  which  was  believed  to 
Timor  be  the  precursor  of  fresh  disaster^,  to  the  reigning  house, 
•Xhan.  justified  the  prediction  by  being  almost  immediately  fol- 
lowed by  an  earthquake,  which  overthrew  the  temple  of 
the  Imperial  Ancestors,  from  the  altars  of  which,  as  if  to 
complete  the  misfortune,  the  silver  tablets  of  the  emperors 
were  in  the  consequent  confusion  stolen.  It  was  not  long 
before  the  popular  discontent  found  vent.  In  order  to 
prevent  the  recurrence  of  the  periodical  inundations  caused 
by  the  overflow  of  the  Yellow  river,  the  emperor  ordered 
a  levy  of  70,000  men  to  excavate  a  new  channel  for  its 
dangerous  stream,  and  imposed  a  heavy  tax  ^  meet  the 
necessary  expenses.  These  oppressive  edicts  overstrained 
the  patience  of  the  people,  and  they  broke  into  open  re- 
bellion. Under  various  leaders  the  rebels  captured  a  num- 
ber of  cities  in  the  provinces  of  Keang-nan  and  Honan, 
and  took  possession  of  Hang-chow,  the  capital  of  the  Sung 
emperors.  At  the  same  tinae  pirates  ravaged  tho  coasts 
and  swept  the  imperial  vessels  off  the  sea.  While 
these  combined  disorders  were  disturbing  the  coimtry,  the 
emperor,  under  the  guidance  of  Tibetan  Lamas,  was  being 
initiated  into  the  sensual  enjoyments  peculiar  to  the  warmer 
climates  of  Asia. 

In  1355  a  Buddhist  priest  named  Choo  Tuen-chang 
became  so  impressed  with  the  misery  of  his  countrymen 
that  he  threw  off  his  vestments  and  enrolled  himself  in 
the  rebel  army.  His  military  genius  soon  raised  him  to 
the  position  of  a  leader,  and  with  extraordinary  success 
he  overcame  With  his  rude  levies  the  trained  legions  of 
the  Mongol  emperor.  While  unable  to  defeat  or  check 
the  rebels  in  the  central  provinces  Toghon  Timur  was  also 
called  upon  to  face  a  rebellion  in  Corea.  Nor  were  his 
arms  more  fortunate  in  the  north  than  in  the  south.  An 
army  which  was  sent  to  suppress  the  revolt  was  cut  to 
pieces  almost  to  a  man.  These  events  made  a  dream 
which  the  emperor  dreamt  about  this  time  of  easy  inter- 
pretation. He  saw  in  his  sleep  "  a  wild  boar  with  iron 
tusks  rush  into  the  city  and  wound  the  people,  who  were 
driven  hither  and  thither  without  finding  shelter.  Mean- 
while the  sun  and  the  moon  rushed  together  and  perished." 
'*11u8  dream,"  said  the  diviner,  "is  a  prophecy  that  the 


khakan  will  lose  his  empire."  The  fulfilment  followed 
closely  on  the  prophecy.  By  a  subterfuge,  the  rebels,  after 
having  gained  possession  of  most  of  the  central  provinces 
of  the  empire,  captured  Peking.  But  Toghon  Timur  by 
a  hasty  flight  escaped  from  his  enpmies,  and  sought  safety 
on  the  shores  of  the  Dolonor  in  Mongolia.  For  a  time  the 
western  provinces  of  China  continued  to  hold  out  against 
the  rebels,  but  with  the  flight  of  Toghon  Timur  the  Mon- 
gol troops  lost  heart,  and  in  1368  the  ex-Buddhist  priest 
ascended  the  throne  as  the  first  sovereign  of  the  Ming  or 
"  Bright "  dynasty,  under  the  title  of  Hung- woo. 

Thus  ended  the  sovereignty  of  the  house  of  Jenghiz 
Khan  in  China,  nor  need  we  look  far  to  find  the  cause  of 
its  fall  Brave  and  hardy  the  Mongols  have  always  shown 
themselves  to  be ;  but  the  capacity  for  consoUdating  tho 
fruits  of  victory,  for  establishing  a  settled  form  of  govern- 
ment, and  for  gaining  the  allegiance  of  the  conquered 
peoples,  have  invariably  been  wanting  in  them.  For  a 
time  their  prowess  and  the  exceptional  ability  of  some  of 
the  first  emperors  of  their  line  held  the  people  of  China 
in  a  bondage  which  was  only  outwardly  peaceful,  and, 
when  the  hands  which  held  the  reins  lost  their  nervous 
power,  and  the  troops,  enervated  by  the  softer  climate  of 
China,  lost  much  of  their  hardihood,  the  long  pent-up 
hatred  of  a  foreign  yoke  broke  out  and  with  gathering 
strength  drove  the  invaders  back  to  their  Mongolian 
pasture-ground. 

Not  content  with  having  recovered  China,  the  emperor 
Hung-woo  sent  an  army  of  400,000  men  into  Mongolia  in 
pursuit  of  the  forces  which  yet  remained  to  the  khakan. 
Even  on  their  own  ground  the  disheartened  Mongols 
failed  in  their  resistance  to  the  Chinese,  and  at  all  points 
suffered  disaster.  Meanwhile  Toghon  Timur,  who  did 
not  long  survive  his  defeat,  was  succeeded,  in  tho 
khakanate  by  Biliktu  Khan,  who  again  in  1379  was 
followed  by  Ussakhal  Khan.  During  the  reign  of  this  last 
prince  the  Chinese  again  invaded  Mongolia,  and  inflicted 
a  crushing  defeat  on  the  khan's  forces  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  Lake  Buyur.  Besides  the  slain,  2994  officers  and 
77,000  soldiers  are  said  to  have  been  taken  prisoners,  and 
an  immense  booty  to  have  been  secured.  This  defeat 
was  the  final  ruin  of  the  eastern  branch  of  the  Mongols, 
who  from  this  time  surrendered  the  supremacy  to  the 
western  division  of  the  tribe.  At  first  the  Keraits  or 
Torgod,  as  in  the  early  days  before  Jenghiz  Khan  rose 
to  power,  exercised  lordship  over  the  eastern  Mongols, 
but  from  these  before  long  the  supremacy  passed  to  the 
Oirad,  who  for  fifty  years  treated  them  as  vassals.  Not- 
withstanding their  subjection,  however,  the  Keraits  still 
preserved  the  imperial  line,  and  khakan  after  khakan 
assumed  the  nominal  sovereignty  of  the  tribe,  while  the 
real  power  rested  with  the  descendants  of  Toghon,  tho 
Oirad  chief,  who  had  originally  attached  them  to  his 
sceptre.  Gradually,  however,  the  Mongol  tribes  broke 
away  from  all  governing  centres,  and  established  scattered 
communities  with  as  many  chiefs  over  the  whole  of 
eastern  Mongolia.  The  discredit  of  having  finally  disin- 
tegrated the  tribe  is  generally  attached  to  Lingdan  Khan 
(1604-1634),  of  whom,  in  reference  to  his  arrogant  and 
brutal  character,  has  been  quoted  the  Mongolian  proverb  : 
"A  raging  khakan  disturbs  the  state,  and  a  raging 
saghan  (elephant)  overthrows  his  keepers." 

At  this  time  the  Mongob,  though  scattered  and  in  The 
isolated  bodies,  had  recovered  somewhat  from  the  shock  ^^ 
of  the  disaster  which  they  suffered  at  the  hand  of  the  first 
Ming  sovereign  of  China.  When  first  driven  northwarcU, 
they  betook  themselves  to  the  banks  of  the  Kerulon,  from 
whence  they  had  originally  started  on  their  victorious 
career;  but  gradually,  as  the  Chinese  power  became  weake) 
among  the  frontier  tribes,  they  again  pushed  southward? 


744 


MONO  0«L  S 


and  at  this  time  had  established  colonies  in  the  Ordus 
country,  within  the  northern  bend  of  the  Yellow  river. 
The  Mongol  royal  family  and  their  immediate  surroundings 
riconpied  the  Chakhar  country  to  the  north-v/est  of  the 
Ordus  territory,  where  they  became  eventually  subjugated 
by  the  Manchus  on  the  overthrow  of  the  Ming  dynasty 
in  1614  by  the  present  rulers  of  China.  Possibly  out  of 
consideration  for  the  royal  descent  of  their  chiefs,  the 
Chinese  emperors  have  invariably  placed  these  Mongols 
in  a  privileged  position,  and  have  incorporated  the  eight 
banners  or  military  divisions  of  the  Chakhars  as  one  of 
the  eight  banners  of  the'  imperial  Manchu  army.  The 
remaining  Mongols  who  submitted  to  the  Manchus  were 
divided  into  135  banners,  49  representing  all  those  on 
the  south-east  of  the  desert,  and  86  the  Khalkhas,  whose 
territory  stretched  along  the  north  of  the  desert  from 
the  neighbourhood  of  Barkhul  on  the  west  to  the  Dalai- 
nor  on  the  north-east.  From  and  before  this  period  the 
liistory  of  the  eastern  Mongols  has  been  that  of  all  the 
nomad  tribes  of  central  Asia,  about  which  nothing  can 
be  more  certainly  said  than  that  that  which  appears  most 
improbable  is  most  likely  to  happen,  and  that  that  which 
might  naturally  be  expected  rarely,  occurs.  Each  tribe, 
as  its  fortunes  varied,  either  rose  to  power  or  sank  into 
insignificance.  At  times  the  old  vigour  and  strength 
which  had  nerved  the  arm  of  Jenghiz  Khan  seemed  to 
return  to  the  tribe,  and  we  read  of  successful  expeditions 
being  made  by  the  Ordu  Mongols  into  Tibet,  and  even  of 
invasions  into  China.  The  relations  with  Tibet  thus 
inaugurated  brought  about  a  rapid  spread  of  Buddhism 
among  the  Mongolians,  and  in  the  beginning  of  the  17th 
century  the  honour  of  having  a  Dalai  Lama  born  among 
them  was  vouchsafed  to  them.  In  1625  Toba,  one  of  the 
sons  of  Bushuktu  Jinung  Khon,  went  on  a  pilgrimage  to 
the  Dalai  Lama,  and  brought  back  with  him  a  copy  of  the 
Tanjur  to  be  translated  into  Mongolian,  as  the  Kanjur 
had  already  been.  But  though  the  prowess  of  the  Ordu 
Mongols  was  still  unsubdued,  their  mode  of  living  was  as 
barren  and  rugged  as  the  steppes  and  rocky  hilLs  which 
make  up  their  territory.  Their  flocks  and  herds,  on  which 
they  are  entirely  dependent  for  food  and  clothing,  are  not 
numerous,  and,  like  their  masters,  are  neither  weU  fed  nor 
well  favoured.  But  though  living  in  this  miserable  condi- 
tion their  princes  yet  keep  up  a  certain  amount  of  barbaric 
state,  and  the  people  have  at  least  the  reputation  of  being 
honest.  Several  of  the  tribes  who  had  originally  migrated 
■with  those  who  finally  settled  in  the  Ordu  territory,  finding 
the  country  to  be  so  inhospitable,  moved  farther  eastward 
into  richer  pastures.  Among  these  were  the  Tumeds,  one 
of  whose  chiefs,  Altan  Khan,  is  famous  in  later  Mongol  his- 
tory for  the  power  he  acquired.  For  many  years  during  the 
16th  century  he  carried  on  a  not  altogether  unsuccessful 
Vr-ar  with  China,  and  filially,  when  peace  was  made  (1571), 
the  Chinese  were  fain  to  create  him  a  prince  of  the  empire 
and  to  confer  a  golden  seal  of  authority  upon  him.  In 
Tibet  his  arms  were  as  successful  as  in  China ;  but,  as  has 
often  happened  in  history,  the  physical  conquerors  became 
the  mental  subjects  of  the  conquered.  Lamaism  has 
always  had  a  great  attraction  in  the  eyes  of  the  Mongols, 
and,  through  the  instrumentality  of  some  Lamaist  prisoners 
whom  Altan  brought-  back  in  his  train,  the  religion  spread 
at  this  time  rapidly  among  the  Tump,fL;.  Altan  himself 
embraced  the  faith,  and  received  at  his  court  the  Bogda 
Sodnam  Gyamtso  Khutuktu,  on  whom  he  lavished  every 
token  of  honour.  One  immediate  effect  of  th.e  introduction 
of  Buddhism  among  the  Tumeds  was  to  put  an  end  to  the 
sacrifices  which  were  commonly  made  at  the  grave  of  their 
chieftains.  In  1584  Altan  died,  and  was  succeeded  by  his 
son  Senge  Dugureng  Timur.  The  rich  territory  occupied 
by  the  Tumeds,  together  with  the  increaaed  iatercourae  with 


China  which  sprang  up  after  the  wars  of  Altan,  began  to 
effect  a  change  in  the  manner  of  life  of  the  people.  By 
degrees  the  pastoral  habits  of  the  inhabitants  became  more 
agricidtural,  and  at  the  present  day,  as  in  Manchuria,  Chinese 
immigi-ants  have  so  stamped  their^  mark  on  the  fields  and 
markets,  on  the  towns  and  villages,  that  the  country  has 
become  to  all  intents  and  purposes  part  of  China  proper. 

Passing  now  from  the  inner  division  of  the  Mongols — that  .  iio 
is  to  say,  the  Chakhars  and  the  49  banners  who  Live  in  the  '^''''1 
southern  and  eastern  portions  of  the  desert — we  come  to  the  "  '^' 
outer  division,  which  is  divided  into  86  banners,  ana 
occupies  the  territory  to  the  north  of  the  desert.  Cf  these 
the  chief  are  the  Khalkhas,  who  are  divided  into  the  West- 
ern and  Eastern  Khalkhas.  These  people  form  the  link  of 
communication  between  Eui'ope  and  easteru  Asia.  Early 
in  the  17th  century  the  Russians  sent  an  embassy  to  the 
courtof  the  Golden  Khan  with  the  object  of  persuading  the 
Mongol  khan  to  acknowledge  allegiance  to  the  czar.  This 
he  did  without  much  hesitation  or  inquir}',  and  he  fur- 
ther despatched  envoys  to  Moscow  on  the  return  of  the 
Russian  embassy.  But  the  allegiance  thus  lightly  acknow- 
ledged was  Ughtly  thrown  off,  and  in  a  quarrel  which  broke 
out  between  the  Khirghiz  and  the  Russians  the  Khalkhas 
took  the  side  of  the  former.  The  breach,  however,  was 
soon  healed  over,  and'we  find  the  Golden  Khan  sending 
an  envoy  again  to  Moscow,  asking  on  behalf  of  his  master 
for  presents  of  jewels,  arms,  a  telescope,  a  clock,  and  "a 
monk  who  had  been  to  Jerusalem  that  he  might  teach  the 
Khalkhas  how  the  Christians  prayed."  Their  submission 
to  Russia  on  the  north  did  not  save  them,  however,  from 
the  Chinese  attacks  on  the  south.  In  central  Asia,  as 
the  recent  history  of  Russia  in  that  part  of  the  world 
shows,  the  depredations  of  a  tribe  on  the  property  of  its 
neighbours  supply  a  ready  cause  of  quarrel  at  any  moment, 
and  the  Chinese  had  no  difficulty,  therefore,  in  justifying 
an  invasion  of  the  Khalkha  territory.  At  that  time  the 
present  Manchu  dynasty  ruled  in  China,  and  to  the  then 
reigning  sovereign  the  Khalkhas  gave  in  their  submission. 
For  some  time  the  Chinese  yoke  sat  lightly  on  their 
consciences,  but  difficulties  having  arisen  with  the  Kal- 
muks,  they  were  ready  enough  to  claim  the  protection  of 
China.  To  cement  the  alliance  the  emperor  K'ang-he 
invited  all  the  Khalkha  chiefs  to  meet  him  at  the  plain 
of  Dolonor.  This  ceremony  brought  the  separate  history 
of  the  Khalkhas  to  a  close,  since  from  that  time  they  have 
been  engulfed  in  the  Chinese  empire. 

Another  important  branch  of  the  great  Mongolian  family^ 
is  the  tribe  of  the  Koshod  or  Eleuths.  These  claim  that 
their  chieftains  have  maintained  unbroken  the  direct  descent 
from  Khassar,  a  brother  of  Jenghiz  Khan.  Their  home 
is  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  Koko-nor,  and  in  the  country 
to  the  north  of  the  narrow  strip  of  the  Kansuh  province 
which  separates  that  district  from  Mongolia  proper.  The 
pasture  in  the  territories  thus  indicated  is  rich  and  abund- 
ant, and  the  Eleuths  have  therefore  had  fewer  temptations 
to  wander  than  most  of  their  cognate  tribes.  Being  thus 
stationary  and  within  a  short  distance  of  the  Chinese  fron- 
tier, they  easily  fell  under  the  dominion  of  that  empire,  and 
in  the  year  1725  were  incorporated  into  29  imperial  banners. 

During  the  Kin  dyfla^ty  of  China  the  Keraits,  as  has 
been  pointed  out,  were  for  a  time  supreme  in  Mongolia, 
and  it  was  during  that  period  that  one  of  the  earliest 
recognized  so^■ereign3,  Merghus  Buyuruk  Khan,  sat  on  the 
throne.  In  an  engagement  with  a  neighbouring  Tatar 
tribe  their  khan  was  captured  and  sent  as  a  propitia- 
tory present  to  the  Kin  emperor,  who  put  him  to  death 
by  nailing  him  on  a  wooden  ass.  On  the  treacherous 
Tatar  chief  the  widow  determined  to  avenge  herself,  and 
chose  the  occasion  of  a  feast  as  a  fitting  opportmilty. 
With  well-disguised  friendship  she  sent  him  a  present  ot 


MONGOLS 


745 


tea  oxen,  a  hundred  sheep,  and  a  hundred  sacks  of  kumiss. 
Hiese  last,  however,  intitaid  of  being  filled  with  skins  of 
the  liquor  which  Mongolians  love  so  well,  contained  armed 
men,  who,  when  the  Tatar  was  feasted,  rushed  from  their 
concealment  and  killed  him.  A  grandson  of  Merghus  was 
the  celebrated  Wang  Khan,  who  was  sometimes  the  ally  and 
sometimes  the  enemy  of  Jenghiz  Khan,  and  has  also  been 
identified  as  the  Prester  John  of  early  Western  writers.  La 
war  he  was  almost  invariably  unfortunate,  and  it  was  with  no 
great  difficulty,  therefore,  that  his  brother  Ki  Wang  detached 
the  greater  part  of  the  Kerait  tribes  from  his  banner,  and 
The  founded  the  Torgod  chieftainship,  named  probably  from 
'Xotgod.  jjjg  country  where  they  settled  themselves.  The  unrest 
peculiar  to  the  dwellers  in  the  Mongolian  desert,  disturbed 
the  Torgod  as  much  as  their  neighbours.  Their  history 
for  several  centuries  consists  of  nothing  but  a  succession 
of  wars  with  the  tribes  on  either  side  of  them,  and  it  was 
not  until  1672,  when  Ayuka  Khan  opened  relations  with 
the  Russians,  that  the  country  obtained  an  even  temporarily 
settled  existence.  Its  position,  indeed,  at  this  time  made 
it  necessary  that  Ayuka  should  ally  himssH  either  vrith  the 
Russians  or  with  his  southern  neig'- hours  the  Turks,  though 
at  the  same  time  it  was  obvious  that  his  alliance  with  the 
one  would  bring  bim  into  coUision  with  the  other.  His 
northern  neighbours,  the  Cossacks  of  the  Yaifc  and  the 
Bashkirs,  both  subject  to  Russia,  had  the  not  uncommon 
propensity  for  invading  his  borders  and  harassing  his  sub- 
ject3.  This  gave  rise  to  complaints  of  the  czar's  govern- 
ment and  a  disposition  to  open  friendly  relations  with  the 
Blrim  khan.  A  rupture  with  Russia  followed,  and  Ayuka 
carried  his  arms  as  far  as  Kasan,  burning  and  laying  waste 
the  villages  and  towns  on  his  route  and  carrying  off  prisoners 
and  spoils.  Satisfied  with  this  vengeance,  he  advanced  no 
farther,  but  made  a  peace  with  the  Russians,  which  was 
confirmed  in  1722  at  an  audience  which  Peter  the  Great 
gave  him  at  Astrakhan.  On  Ayuka's  death  shortly  after 
this  event,  he  was  succeeded  by  his  son  Cheren  Donduk, 
who  received  from  the  Dalai  Lama  a  patent  to  the  throne. 
But  this  spiritual  support  availed  hun  little  against  the 
plots  of  his  nephew  Donduk  (^mljo,  who  so  completely 
gained  the  sufftages  of  the  people  that  Cheren  Donduk 
fled  before  him  to  St  Petersburg,  where  he  died,  leaving 
his  nephew  in  possession.  With  consummate  impartiality 
tue  Russians,  when  they  found  that  Donduk  Ombo  had 
not  only  seized  the  throne  but  was  governing  the  country 
with  vigour  and  wisdom,  formally  invested  him  with  the 
khanate.  At  his  death  he  was  succeeded  by  Donduk 
Taishi,  who;  we  are  told,  went  to  Moscow  to  attend  the 
coronation  of  the  empress  Elizabeth,  and  to  swear  fealty 
to  the  Russians.  After  a  short  reign  he  died,  and  his 
throne  was  occupied  by  his  son  Ubasha.  The  position  of 
the  Torgod  at  this  time,  hemmed  in  as  they  were  between 
the  Russians  and  Turks,  was  rapidly  becoming  unbearable, 
and  the  question  of  migrating  "  bag  and  baggage "  was 
very  generaUy  mooted.  In  the  war  between  his  two  power- 
ful neighbours  in  1769  and  1770,  Ubasha  gave  valuable 
assistance  to  the  Russians.  His  troops  todk  part  in  the 
siege  of  Otchakoff,  and  gained  a  decided  victory  on  the 
Kalans.  Flushed  with  these  successes,  he  was  in  no  mood  to 
listen  patiently  to  the  taunts  of  the  governor  of  Astrakhan, 
who  likened  him  to  a  "bear  fastened  to  a  chain,"  and  he 
made  up  his  mind  to  break  away  once  and  for  all  from  a 
tutelage  which  was  as  galling  as  it  was  oppressive.  He 
determined,  therefore,  to  migrate  eastward  with  his  people, 
and  on  the  5th  of  January  1771  he  began  his  march  with 
70,000  families.  In  vain  the  Russians  attempted  to  recall 
the  fugitives,  who,  in  spite  of  infinite  hardships,  after  a 
journey  of  eight  months  reached  the  province  of  Ili,  where 
they  were  welcomed  by  the  Chinese  authorities.  Food 
for  a  year's  consumption  was  supplied  to  each  family; 


and  khd,  money,  and  cattle  were  freely  distributed.  How 
many  lost  their  lives  on  the  toilsome  march  it  is  impo* 
sible  to  say,  but  it  is  believed  that  300,000  persons  sur- 
vived to  receive  the  hospitality  of  the  Chinese.  This 
migration  i»  interesting  as  illustrating  the  many  displace- 
ments of  triLjs  and  peoples  which  have  taken  place  on 
the  continent  of  Asia  at  different  periods  of  history.  Such 
another  migration  occurred  between  four  and  five  thousand 
years  ago,  when  the  Chinese  crossed  from  western  Asia 
into  their  present  empire ;  such,  again,  was  the  movement 
which  carried '  the  Osmanli  Turks  from  north-eastern  Asia 
into  Asia  Minor,  and  eventually  across  the  Bosphorus. 
By  this  desperate  venture  the  Torgod  escaped,  it  is  true, 
the  oppression  of  the  Russians,  but  they  fell  into  the  hands 
of  other  masters,  who,  if  not  so  exacting,  were  equally  de- 
termined to  be  supreme.  The  Chinese,  flattered  by  the 
compliment  implied  by  the  transference  of  allegiance, 
settledthem  on  lands  in  the  province  of  Li,  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  the  Altai  Mountains,  and  to  the  west  of  the 
desert  of  GoM.  But  the  price  they  were  made  to  pay  for 
this  liberality  was  absorption  in  the  Chinese  empire.  Like 
the  other  Chinese -subdued  Mongols,  the  Torgod  were 
divided  into  banners,  and  from  that  time  forth  they  lost 
their  individuality. 

Among  the  Mongol  chiefs  who  rose  to  fame  during  the 
rule  of  the  Ming  dynasty  of  China  was  Toghon,  the  Kal- 
muk  khan,  who,  taking  advantage  of  the  state  of  confusion 
which  reigned  among  the  tribes  of  Mongolia,  established 
for  himself  an  empire  in  north-western  Asia.  Death  carried 
him  off  in  1444,  and  his  throne  devolved  upon  his  son 
Ye-seen,  who  was  no  degenerate  offspring.  Being  without 
individual  foes  in  Mongolia  for  the  same  reason  that 
Narvaez  had  no  enemies — namely,  that  he  had  killed  them 
all — ^he  turned  his  arms  against  China,  which  through  all 
■history  has  been  the  happy  hunting-ground  of  the  northern 
tribes,  and  had  the  unexampled  good  fortune  to  t.ke 
prisoner  the  Chinese  emperor  Ching-tung.  But  victory 
did  not  always  decide  in  his  favour,  afid,  after  having  .■suf- 
fered reverses  at  the  hands  of  the  Chinese,  he  deemed  it 
wise  to  open  negotiations  for  the  restoration  of  h'"  itaperial 
prisoner.  Tlius,  after  a  captivity  of  seven  years,  Ching- 
tung  re-entered  his  capital  in  1457,  not  altogether  to  the 
general  satisfaction  of  his  subjects.  On  the  death  of  Te-seen, 
shortly  after  this  event,  the  Kahnuks  lost  much  of  theis 
power  in  eastern  Asia,  but  1-etained  enough  in  other  por- 
tions of  their  territory  to  annoy  the  Russians  by  raids 
within  the  Russian  fror.rier,  and  by  constant  acts  oT  pillage> 
In  the  17th  century  their  authority  was  partly  restored  by 
Galdan,  a  Lama,  who  succeeded  by  the  usual  combination  G/.idab 
of  wile  and  violence  to  the  throne  of  his  brother  SenghiS.  Khnn, 
Having  been  partly  educated  at  Lhasa,  he  was  well  versed 
in  Asiatic  politics,  and,  taking  advantage  of  a  quarrel  be- 
tween the  Black  and  White  Mountaineers  of  Kashgar,  he 
overran  Little  Bokhara,  and  left  a  viceroy  to  rule  over  the 
province  with  his  capital  at  Yarkand.  At  the  same  tin:  ^ 
he  opened  relations  with  China,  and  exchanged  presents 
with  the  emperor.  Having  thus  secured  his  powerful 
southern  neighbour,  as  he  thought,  he  turned  his  arms 
against  the  KhaUdias,  whose  chief  ground  of  offence  was 
their  attachment  to  the  cause  of  his  brothers.  But  his  rest- 
less ambition  created  alarm  at  Peking,  and  the  emperor 
K'ang-he  determined  -to  protect  the  Khalkhas  against  *heir 
enemy.  Great  preparations  were  made  for  the  campaign. 
The  emperor,  in  person  commanding  one  of  the  two  forces^ 
marched  into  Mongolia.  After  enduring  incredible  hard- 
ships during  the  march  through  the' desert  of  Gobi  the  im- 
perial army  encountered  the  Kahnuks  at  Chao-modo.  Th,6 
engagement  was  fiiercely  contested,  but  ended  in  the  con^ 
plete  victory  of  the  Chinese,  who  pursued  the  Kahnuks  fof 
10  miles,  and  completely  dispersed  their  force.'.     Immense 


746 


MONGOLS 


numliers  were  slain,  among  whom  was  Gaidan's  wife,  and 
many  thousands  surrendered  themselves  to  the  victors. 
Oaldan,  with  his  son,  daughter,  and  a  few  followers,  fled 
westward  and  escaped  ;  and  thus  collapsed  a  power  which 
had  threatened  at  one  time  to  overshadow  the  whole  of  Cen- 
tral Asia.  For  a  time  Galdan  stiU  maintained  a  semblance 
of  resistance  to  his  powerful  enemy,  and  death  overtook 
him  while  yet  in  the  field  against  the  Chinese.  The  news 
of  his  death  was  received  with  great  rejoicings  at  Peking. 
The  emperor  held  a  special  service  of  thanksgiving  to  Heaven 
for  the  deUverance  vouchsafed,  and  ordered  that  the  ashes 
of  his  enemy,  whose  body  had  been  bm-ned,  should  be 
brought  to  the  capital  and  there  scattered  to  the  four 
winds.  The  fear  which  had  been  thus  inspired  was  no  idle 
terror.  Galdan  was  a  man  to  be  feared.  The  conqueror 
of  Samarkand,  Bokhara,  Urgenj,  Kashgar,  Hami,  and 
twelve  hundred  other  towns,  might  well  be  considered  a 
formidable  foe,  and  Heaven  a  merciful  deliverer  in  ridding 
Asia  of  so  restless  and  dangerous  a  chieftain. 

But  though  Galdan  was  dead  the  Chinese  did  not  enjoy 
that  complete  immunity  from  war  at  the  hand  of  his  suc- 
cessor that  they  had  looked  for.  Tse-wang  Arabtan  was, 
however,  but  the  shadow  of  his  brother  and  predecessor, 
and  a  dispute  which  arose  with  the  Russians  during  his 
reign  weakened  his  power  in  other  directions.  Little  Bok- 
hara was  said  to  be  rich  in  gold  mines,  and  therefore  be- 
came a  coveted  region  in  the  eyes  of  the  Russians.  Under 
the  vigorous  administration  of  Peter  the  Great  an  expedi- 
tion was  despatched  to  force  a  passage  into  the  desired 
province.  To  oppose  this  invasion  the  Kalmuks  assembled 
in  force,  and  after  a  protracted  and  undecided  engagement 
the  Russians  were  glad  to  agree  to  retire  down  the  Irtish 
and  to  give  up  all  further  advance. 

To  Tse-wang  Arabtan  succeeded  Amursama  owing  to 
the  support  he  received  from  the  Chinese  emperor  K'een- 
lung,  who  nominated  him  khan  of  the  Kalmuks  and 
chief  of  Sungaria.  But,  though  to  the  ear  these  titles 
were  as  high-sounding  as  those  of  his  predecessors,  in 
reality  the  power  they  represented  was  curtailed  by  the 
presence  of  Chinese  commissioners,  in  whose  hands  rested 
the  real  authority.  The  galling  weight  of  this  state  of 
dependence  drove  Amursama  before  long  into  revolt.  He 
dispersed  the  Chinese  garrisons  stationed  in  Hi,  kilfed  the 
generals,  and  advanced  his  ovm  forces  as  far  as  PaUkun  on 
the  river  Hi.  To  punish  this  revolt,  K'een-lung  sent  a  large 
force  into  the  rebelHous  province.  As  on  the  previous  occa- 
sion, the  Chinese  were  everywhere  victorious,  and  Amursama 
fled  into  Siberia,  where  he  died  of  smallpox  after  a  short 
illness.  The  Chinese  demanded  his  body,  but  the  Russians 
refused  to  give  it  up,  though  they  allowed  the  Chinese 
commissioners  to  identify  it.  On  the  death  of  Amursama, 
K'een-lung  determined  to  abolish  the  khanate,  and  in  place 
of  it  he  nominated  four  Hans  to  rule  over  the  Simgars,  the 
TorgoQ,  the  Khoshod,  and  the  Dorbod.  But  this  divided 
authority  proved  quite  as  unmanageable  as  that  which  had 
been  wielded  by  the  khan,  and  the' new  rulers  soon  at- 
tempted to  throw  ofl'  the  yoke  imposed  upon  them  from 
Peking.  Again  a  Chinese  army  marched  into  Hi,  and  this 
time  a  severe  measure  of  repression  was  meted  out  to  the 
rebels  and  their  sympathizers.  A  general  massacre  of  the 
Kalmuks  was  ordered,  and  was  faithfully  carried  out.  The 
provinco  wliich  had  been  as  a  fruitful  field  was  utterly 
wrecked,  and  the  place  of  the  Sungars  was  taken  by  exiled 
criminals  from  China. 

But  while  China  was  thus  absorbing  the  Mongols  within 
her  reach,  Russia  was  gathering  within  her  borders  those 
wth  whom  she  came  into  contact.  Among  these  were 
the  BuriatB,  who  occupied  a  large  territory  on  both  fides  of 
the  .Baikal  Lake.  As  usual  in  such  cases,  disputes  arose 
out  of  distutbauces  on  the  frontiar,  and  wore  ended  by 


the  Buriats  and  the  neighbouring  Jlongol  tribes  becom- 
ing one  and  all  tributary  to  Russia. 

Of  the  Mongol  tribes  who  became  entirely  subject  to  The 
Russia  the  principal  are  those  of  the  Crimea,  of  Kasan,  and  p"'*"' 
of  Astrakhan  ;  of  these  the  Tatars  of  Kasan  are  the  truest  ^"'^^ 
representatives  of  the  Golden  Horde  or  Kipchaks,  who 
originally  formed  the  subjects  of  Batu  and  Qlda.  Batu, 
whose  victorious  campaign  in  Russia  has  airead}'  been 
sketched,  was  finally  awarded  as  his  fief  the  vast  steppes 
which  stretch  from  the  Carpathian  Mountains  to  the 
Balkash  Lake.  Over  these  vast  plains  the  Mongols  followed 
their  flocks  and  herds,  while  the  more  settled  among  them 
established  themselves  along  the  banks  of  the  rivers  \.hk]x 
flow  through  that  region.  Batu  himself  fixed  his  head- 
quarters on  the  Volga,  and  there  set  up  his  Golden  Tent  front 
which  the  horde  acquired  the  name  of  the  Golden  Horde. 
In  1255  Batu  died  and  was  succeeded  by  his  brother  Bere'':ii- 
Khan.  During  the  reign  of  this  sovereign  the  exactions 
which  were  demanded  from  the  Russian  Christians  by  the 
Mongols  aroused  the  Christian  world  against  the  barbarian 
conquerors,  and  at  the  command  of  Pope  Alexander  TV.  a 
general  crusade  was  preached  against  them.  But  though 
the  rage  of  the  Christians  was  great,  they  lacked  that 
united  energy  which  might  have  availed  them  against  their 
enemies  ;  and,  while  they  were  yet  breathing  out  denuncia- 
tions, a  Tatar  host,  led  by  Nogai  and  Tulabagha,  appeared 
in  Poland.  After  a  rapid  and  triumphant  march,  the  in- 
vaders took  and  destroyed  Cracow,  and  from  thence  ad- 
vanced as  far  as  Bythom  in  Oppeln,  from  which  point  they 
eventually  retired,  carrying  with  them  a  crowd  of  Christian 
slaves.  From  this  time  the  Mongols  became  for  a  season  an 
important  factor  in  European  poUtics.  They  corresponded 
and  treated  with  the  European  sovereigns,  and  intermarried 
with  royal  families.  Hulagu,  the  famous  general,  married 
a  daughter  of  Michael  Palteologus ;  Toktu  Khan  took  as  his 
wife  Maria,  the  daughter  of  Andronicus  II. ;  and  to  Nogai 
Michael  betrothed  his  daughter  Irene.  But  Bereke's  in- 
fluence extended  beyond  Europe  into  Egypt,  from  which 
country,  as  well  as  from  Constantinople,  he  secured  the 
services  of  artisans  to  build  him  dwellings  of  ja,  more 
substantial  nature  than  that  of  his  Golden  Tent.  But  his 
widely  extending  intercourse  vnih  foreign  nation^  brought 
in  its  train  a  consequence  which  tended  fatally  to  under- 
mine the  existence  of  the  horde.  His  conversion  to  Islam 
introduced  a  strongly  disintegrating  influence  into  the  com- 
munity, and  with  it  were  so'svn  the  seeds  of  its  final  dis- 
ruption. Bereke  was  succeeded  on  his  death  in  J  265  by  his 
grandson  Mangu  Timur,  who  throughout  his  reign  was  con- 
stantly engaged  in  hostilities  with  the  Russians  and  his 
other  European  neighbours.  The  Genoese  alone  found  under 
his  patronage  a  means  of  advancing  their  possessions.  For 
some  time  these  people  had  held  large  colonies  in  southern 
Russia,  and  in  the  Crimea  had  divided  the  trade  with  the 
Venetians.  By  the  .support  of  Mangu  Tinuir  these  last 
were  driven  out  of  the  field,  and  the  Genoese  were  left  in 
the  enjoyment  of  a  monopoly  of  the  commerce.  The  reigns 
of  the  khans  who  succeeded  JIangu  Timur  were  no  less 
stormy  than  his  had  been ;  but  even  in  these  troublous 
times  the  influences  which  surrounded  the  Mongols  led 
them  onward  in  the  path  of  civilization.  Toktu,  the  next 
khan  but  one  to  Mangu  Timur,  is  the  first  Jlongol  ruler 
whom  we  hear  of  as  having  struck  coins.  Those  issued 
during  his  reign  bear  the  mint  marks  of  Sarai,  New  Sarai, 
Bulgar,  Dkek,  Kharezm,  Krim,  JuUad,  and  Madjarui,  and 
vary  in  date  from  1291  to  1312. 

The  adoption  of  Islam  by  the  rulers  of  the  Golden  Horde 
had  as  one  result  the  drawing  closer  of  the  relations  of 
tho  Mongols  with  Constantinople  and  Egypt.  Embassies 
[oasscd  hitwe^n  the  three  courts,  and  so  important  wr.<<  the 
alliance  v.itl;  the  Mongols  deemed  by  the  sultan  N.l'<ir 


MONGOLS 


747 


ruler  of  Egypt,  that  he  sent  to  aemand  in  marriage 
a  princess  of  the  house  of  Jenghiz  Khan.  At  first  his 
request  was  refused  by  the  proud  Mongols,  but  the  present 
of  a  million  gold  dinars,  besides  a  niimber  of  horses  and 
suits  of  armour,  changed  the  refusal  into  an  acquiescence, 
and  in  October  1319  the  princess  landed  at  Alexandria  in 
regal  state.  Her  reception  at  Cairo  was  accompanied  with 
feasting  and  rejoicing,  and  the  members  of  her  escort  were 
sent  back  laden  with  presents.  With  that  religious  tolera- 
tion common  to  his  race,  Uzbeg  Khan,  having  married  one 
princess  to  KAsir,  gave  another  in  marriage  to  George  the 
prince  of  Moscow,  whose  cause  he  espoused  in  a  quarrel 
existing  between  that  prince  and  his  uncle,  the  grand- 
prince  Michael.  Assuming  the  attitude  of  a  judge  in  the 
dispute,  Uzbeg  Khan  summoned  Michael  to  appear  before 
him,  and,  having  given  his  decision  against  him,  ordered  his 
execution.  The  sentence  was  carried  out  with  aggravated 
cruelty  in  sight  of  his  nephew  and  accuser.  From  this 
time  Uzbeg's  sympathies  turned  towards  Christianity.  He 
protected  the  Eussian  churches  within  his  frontiers,  and 
put  his  seal  to  his  new  religious  views  by  marrying  a 
daaghterof  the  Greek  emperor,  Andronicus  III.  He  died  in 
1340,  after  a  reign  of  twenty-eight  years.  His  coins  were 
struck  at  Sarai,  Kharezm,  Mokshi,  Bulgar,  Azak,  and 
Krim,  and  are  dated  from  1313  to  1340.  His  son  and  suc- 
cessor, Tinibeg  Khan,  after  a  reign  of  only  a  few  months, 
was  murdered  by  his  brother  Janibeg  Khan,  who  usurped  his 
throne,  and,  according  to  the  historian  Ibn  Haidar,  proved 
himself  to  be  "just,  God-fearing,  and  the  patron  of  the 
meritorious."  These  excellent  qualities  did  not,  however, 
prevent  his  making  a  raid  into  Poland,  which  was  conducted 
in  the  usual  Mongol  manner,  nor  did  they  save  his  country- 
men from  being  decimated  by  the  black  plague,  which  for 
the  first  time  in  1345  swept  over  Asia  and  Europe,  from 
the  confines  of  China  to  Paris  and  London.  With  all  their 
love  of  war  the  Mongols  had  a  keen  eye  to  monetary 
advantage,  and  Janibeg,  who  was  no  exception  to  the  rule, 
concluded  treaties  with  the  merchant-princes  of  Venice  and 
Genoa,  in  which  the  minute  acquaintance  displayed  with 
shipping  dues  and  customs  charges  shows  how  great  were 
the  advances  the  Mongols  had  made  in  their  knowledge  of 
European  commerce  since  the  days  of  Jenghiz  Khan.  The 
throne  Janibeg  had  seized  by  violence  was,  in  1 357,  snatched 
from  him  by  violence.  As  he  lay  ill  on  his  return  from  a 
successful  expedition  against  Persia  he  was  murdered  by 
his  son  Berdibeg,  who  in  his  turn  was,  after  a  short  reign, 
murdered  by  his  son  Kulpa.  With  the  death  of  Berdibeg 
the  fortunes  of  the  Golden  Horde  began  rapidly  to  decline. 
As  the  Uzbeg  proverb  says, — "  The  hump  of  the  camel  was 
cut  off  in  the  person  of  Berdibeg." 
The  But  while  the  power  of  the  GSolden  Horde  was  dwin- 

\vuie  dling  away,  the  White  Horde  or  Eastern  Kipchak,  which 
^j"^'^  was  the  inheritance  of  the  elder  branch  of  the  family 
j;^grn  '^  Juchi,  remained  prosperous  and  full  of  vitality.  The 
Kipcbak.  descendants  of  Orda,  Batu's  elder  brother,  being  far  re- 
moved from  the  dangerous  influences  of  European  courts, 
maintained,  much  of  the  simplicity  and  vigour  of  their 
nomad  ancestors,  and  the  throne  descended  from  father 
to  son  with  undiminished  authority  until  the  reign  of 
Urus  Khan  (1360),  when  complications  arose  whichchanged 
the  fortunes  of  the  tribe.  Like  many  other  opponents  of 
the  Mongol  rulers,  Khan  Tuli  Khoja  paid  with  his  life  for  his 
temerity  in  opposing  the  political  schemes  of  his  connexion 
Urus  Khan.  Toktamish,  the  son  of  the  murdered  man, 
fled  at  the  news  of  his  father's  death  and  sought  refuge  at 
the  court  of  the  famous  Timur-i-leng  (Tamerlane),  who 
deceived  him  with  honour  and  at  once  agreed  to  espouse 
his  causa.  With  this  intention  he  despatched  a  force 
againtt  Vr.'-i  Khc.n,  and  gained  some  advantage  over  him,, 
but,  while  Citing  out  another  army  to  make  a  fresh  attAck, 


news  reached  him  of  the  death  of  Urus.  Only  at  Sighnak 
are  coins  known  to  have  been  struck  during  the  reign  of 
Urus,  and  these  bear  date  from  1372  to  1375. 

He  was  followed  on  the  throne  by  his  two  sons,  Tuk-ToV- 
takia  and  Timur  Malik,  each  in  turn ;  the  first  reigned  but  tamisV 
for  a  few  weeks,  and  the  second  was  killed  in  a  battle 
against  Toktamish,  the  son  of  his  father's  enemy.  Tok- 
tamish now  seized  the  throne,  not  only  of  Eastern  Kipchak 
but  also  of  the  Golden  Horde,  over  which  his  arms  had 
at  the  same  time  proved  victorious.  His  demands  for  trib- 
ute from  the  Russian  princes  met  with  evasions  from  men 
who  had  grown  accustomed  to  the  diminished  power  of  the 
later  rulers  of  the  Golden  Horde,  and  Toktamish  therefore 
at  once  marched  an  army  into  Russia.  Having  captured 
Serpukhoff,  he  advanced  on  Moscow.  On  the  23d  August 
1382  his  troops  appeared  before  the  doomed  city.  For 
some  days  the  inhabitants  bravely  withstood  the  constant 
attacks  on  the  walls,  but  failed  in  their  resistance  to  the 
stratagems  which  were  so  common  a  phase  in  Mongolian 
warfare.  Wi.L  astonishing  credulity  they  opened  the  gates 
to  the  Mongols,  who  declared  themselves  the  enemies  of 
the  grand-prince  alone,  and  not  of  the  people.  The  usual 
result  followed.  'The  Rus.sian  general,  who  was  invited  to 
Toktamish's  tent,  was  there  slain,  and  at  the  same  time  the 
signal  was  given  for  a  general  slaughter.  Without  dis- 
criminating age  or  sex,  the  Mongol  troops  butchered  the 
wretched  inhabitants  without  mercy,  and,  having  made 
the  streets  desolate  and  the  housis  tenantless,-they  first 
plundered  the  city  and  then  gave  it  over  to  the  flames. 
The  same  pitiless  fate  overtook  Vladimir,  Zvenigorod, 
Yurieflf,  Mozhaisk,  and  DimitroflT.  With  better  fortune, 
the  inhabitants  of  Pereslavl  and  Kolomna  escaped  with 
their  lives  from  the  troops  of  Toktamish,  but  at  the  expense 
of  their  cities,  which  were  burned  to  the  ground.  Satisfied 
with  his  conquests,  the  khan  returned  homewards,  travers- 
ing and  plundering  the  principality  of  Eiazan  on  his  way. 
Flushed  with  success,  Toktamish  demanded  from  his  patron 
Timur  the  restoration  of  Kharezm,  which  had  fallen  into 
the  hands  of  the  latter  at  a  period  when  disorder  reigned 
in  the  Golden  Horde.  Such  a  request  was  not  likely  to 
be  well  received  by  Timur,  and,  in  answer  to  his  positive 
refusal  to  yield  the  city,  "Toktamish  marched  an  army  of 
90,000  men  against  Tabriz.  After  a  siege  of  eight  days 
the  city  was  taken  by  assault  and  ruthlessly  ravaged. 
Meanwhile  Timur  was  collecting  forces  to  punish  his 
rebeUioiis  protige.  When  his  plans  were  fully  matured,  ho 
advanced  upon  Old  Urgenj  and  captured  it.  More  merci- 
ful than  Toktamish,  he  transported  the  inhabitants  to 
Samarkand,  but  in  order  to  mark  his  anger  against  the 
rebellious  city  he  leveOed  it  with  the  ground  and  sowed 
barley  on  the  site  where  it  had  stood.  On  the  banks  of 
the  Oxus  he  encountered  his  enemy,  and  after  a  bloody 
battle  completely  routed  the  Kipchtis,  who  fled  in  confu- 
sion. A  lull  followed  this  victory,  but  in  1390  Timur 
again  took  the  field.  To  each  man  was  given  "a  bow, 
with  thirty  arrows,  a  quiver,  and  a  buckler.  The  army  was 
mounted,  and  a  spare  horse  was  supplied  to  every  two  men, 
while  a  tent  was  furnished  for  every  ten,  and  with  this 
were  two  spades,  a  pickaxe,  a  sickle,  a  saw,  an  axe,  an  awl, 
a  hundred  needles,  8i  ft)  of  cord,  an  ox's  hide,  and  a  strong 
pan."  Thus  equipped  the  army  set  forth  on  its  march. 
After  a  considerable  delay  owing  to  an  illness  which  over- 
took Timur  his  troops  arrived  at  Kara  Saman.  Here 
envoys  arrived  from  Toktamish  bearing  presents  and  a 
message  asking  pardon  for  his  past  conduct ;  but  Timur 
was  inexorable,  and,  though  he  treated  the  messengers  with 
consideration,  he  paid  no  attention  to  their  prayer.  In 
face  of  innumerable  diflSculties,  as  well  as  of  cold,  himger, 
,  and  weariness,  Timur  marched  forward  month  after  month 
I  through  the  Kipchak  country  in  pursuit  of  Toktamish.     At 


748 


MONGOLS 


last,  on  the  18th  of  June,  he  overtook  him  at  Kandurcha,  I      One  solitary  fragment  of  the  Golden  Horde,  the  khanat 
in  the  country  of  the  Bulgars,  and  at  once  forced  him  to  an     of  Astrakhan,  maintained  for  a  time  an  existence  after  th 


encao-ement.  For  three  days  the  battle  lasted,  and  after 
inclining  now  to  this  side  and  now  to  that  victory  finally  de- 
cided in  favour  of  Tiraur.  The  Kipchaks  were  completely 
routed  and  fled  in  all  directions,  while  it  is  said  as  many 
as  100,000  corpses  testified  to  the  severity  of  the  fighting. 
Timur  pursued  his  flying  enemy  as  far  as  the  Volga, 
slaughtering  all  who  fell  into  his  hands,  and  ravaged  and 
destroyed  the  to\vns  of  Sarai,  Saraichuk,  and  Astrakhan. 
Having  inflicted  this  terrible  blow  on  the  Golden  Horde, 
Timur  distributed  rewards  to  his  chieftains,  and  presided 
at  a  series  of  banquets  in  celebration  of  his  victory.  These 
rejoicings  over,  he  returned  to  Samarkand  laden  with  spoils 
and  trophies.  But  Toktamish,  though  defeated,  was  not 
subdued,  and  in  1395  Timur  found  it  necessary  again  to 
undertake  a  campaign  against  him.  This  time  the  armies 
met  upon  the  Terek,  and  after  a  fiercely-contested  battle 
the  Kipchaks  again  fled  in  confusion.  When  the  victory 
was  gained,  Timur,  we  are  told,  knelt  down  on  the  field 
and  returned  thanks  to  Heaven  for  his  success.  The  piu-- 
suit  along  the  Volga  was  vigorously  undertaken,  and  the 
slaughter  among  the  fugitives  was  terrible.  The  hurried 
advance  of  Timur's  horsemen  threw  the  Russians  into  a 
state  of  wild  alarm,  and  the  grand-prince  of  Moscow 
ordered  that  an  ancient  image  of  the  Virgin  which  was 
lielieved  to  possess  miraculous  power  should  be  talcen  to 
Moscow  to  save  that  city  from  the  destroyer.  Success 
appeared  to  attend  this  measure,  for  Timur,  threatened  by 
the  advancing  autumn,  gave  up  all  further  pursuit,  and 
retired  with  a  vast  booty  of  gold  ingots,  silver  bars,  pieces  of 
Antioch  linen  and  of  the  embroidered  cloth  of  Russia,  &c. 
On  his  homeward  march  southwards  he  arrived  before 
Azak,  which  was  then  the  entrepot  where  the  merchants 
of  the  east  and  west  exchanged  their  wares.  In  vain  the 
natives,  with  the  Egyptian,  Venetian,  Genoese,  Catalan, 
and  Basque  inhabitants,  besought  him  to  spare  the  city. 
His  answer  was  a  command  to  the  Moslems  to  separate 
themselves  from  the  rest  of  the  people,  whom  he  put  to 
the  sword,  and  then  gave  the  city  over  to  the  flames. 
Circassia  and  Georgia  next  felt  his  iron  heel,  and  the 
fastnesses  of  the  central  Caucasus  were  one  and  all 
destroyed.  After  these  successes  Tiraur  gave  himself  up 
for  a  time  to  feasting  and  rejoicing,  accompanied  by  every 
manifestation  of  Oriental  luxury.  "  His  tent  of  audience 
was  hung  with  silk,  its  poles  were  golden,  or  probably 
covered  with  golden  plates,  the  nails  being  silver ;  his 
throne  was  of  gold,  enriched  with  precious  stones ;  the 
floor  was  sprinkled  with  rose  water."  But  his  vengeance 
was  not  satisfied,  and,  having  refreshed  his  troops  by  this 
halt,  ho  marched  northwards  against  Astrakhan,  which  he 
utterly  destroyed.  The  inhabitants  were  driven  out  into 
the  country  to  perish  with  the  cold,  while  the  commander 
of  the  city  was  killed  by  being  forced  beneath  the  ice  of 
the  Volga.  iSarai  nest  shared  the  same  fate,  and  T.imur, 
having  thus  crushed  for  the'  second  time  the  empire  of 
Toktamish,  set  out  on  his  return  home  by  way  of  Derbend 
and  Azerbijan.  The  defeated  Idian  succeeded  shortly 
.afterwards  in  recaphiring  Sarai ;  but,  being  again  driven 
out,  ho  retired  in  1393  to  Kieff,  a  fugitive  from  his  king- 
dom. During  his  reign,  which  lasted  for  twenty-four  years, 
lie  strack  coins  at  Kharezm,  Krim,  New  Kri;n,  Azak, 
Sarai,  New  Sarai,  Saraichuk,  and  Astrakhan.  The  power 
in  the  hands  of  the  successors  of  Toktamish  never  revived 
after  the  last  campaign  of  Timur.  They  were  constantly 
engaged  in  wars  with  the  Russians  and  the  Xrim  Tatars, 
with  whom  the  Russians  had  allied  themselves,  and  by 
degrees  their  empire  decayed,  until,  on  tho  seizure  and 
death  of  Ahmed  Khan  at  the  beginning  of  the  ICth  cen- 
tury, the  domination  of  the  Golden  Horde  camo  to  an  end. 


fall  of  the  central  power.  But  even  this  last  remnar 
ceased  to  be  a  Mongol  apanage  in  1554,  when  it  wi 
captured  by  the  Russians  and  converted  into  a  Russiai 
province.  The  fate  which  thus  overtook  the  Golden  Hord 
was  destined  to  be  shared  by  all  the  western  branches  oi 
the  great  Mongol  family.  The  khans  of  Kasan  and 
Kasiinoff  had  already  in  1552  succumbed  to  the  growing 
power  of  Russia,  and  the  Krim  Tatars  were  next  toTbe 
fall  under  the  same  yoke.  In  the  ISth  century,  whenj^'''t 
the  Krim  Tatars  first  appear  as  an  independent  power, 
they  attempted  to  strengthen  their  position  by  allying 
themselves  \vith  the  Russians,  to  whom  they  looked  for 
help  against  the  attacks  of  the  Golden  Horde.  But  while 
they  were  in  this  state  of  dependence  another  power  arose 
in  eastern  Asia  which  modified  the  political  events  of  that 
region.  In  1453  Constantinople  was  taken  by  the 
Osmauli  Turks,  who,  having  quarrelled  with  the  Genoese 
merchants  who  monopolized  the  trade  on  the  Euxine,  sent 
an  expedition  into  the  Crimea  to  punish  the  presumptuous 
traders.  The  power  which  had  captured  Constantinople 
was  not  likely  to  be  held  in  check  by  any  forces  at  the 
disposal  of  the  Genoese,  and  without  any  serious  opposi- 
tion Kaffa,  Sudak,  Balaclava,  and  Inkerman  fell  before  the 
troops  of  the  sultan  Mohammed.  It  was  plain  that, 
situated  as  the  Crimea  was  between  the  two  great  powers 
of  Russia  and  Turkey,  it  must  of  necessity  fall  under  the 
direction  of  one  of  them.  AVhich  it  should  be  was 
decided  by  the  invasion  of  the  Turks,  who  restored  Mengli 
Girai,  the  deposed  khan,  to  the  throne,  and  virtuafiy 
converted  the  khanate  into  a  dependency  of  Constanti- 
nople. But  though  under  the  tutelage  of  Turkey,  Mengli 
Girai,  whose  leading  policy  seems  to  have  been  the  desire 
to  strengthen  himself  against  the  khans  of  the  Golden 
Horde,  formed  a  close  alliance  with  the  grand-prince  Ivan 
of  Russia.  One  result  of  this  friendship  was  that  the 
Mongols  were  enabled,  and  encouraged,  to  indulge  their 
predatory  habits  at  the  expense  of  the  enemies  of  Russia, 
and  in  this  way  both  Lithuania  and  Poland  suffered 
terribly  from  their  incursions.  It  was  destined,  however, 
that  in  their  turn  the  Russians  should  not  escape  from 
the  marauding  tendencies  of  their  allies,  for,  on  pretext 
of  a  quarrel  with  reference  to  the  succession  to  the  Kasan 
throne,  Mohammed  Girai  Khan  in  1521  marched  an  army 
northwards  until,  after  having  devastated  the  country, 
massacred  the  people,  and  desecrated  the  churches  on  his 
route,  he  arrived  at  the  heights  of  Vorobieff  overlooking 
Moscow.  The  terror  of  the  unfortunate  inhabitants  at 
tho  sight  once  again  of  the  dreaded  Mongols  was  extreme  ; 
but  the  horrors  which  had  accompanied  similar  past 
visitations  were  happily  averted  by  a  treaty,  by  which 
the  grand-prince  Vasili  undertook  to  pay  a  perpetual  trib- 
ute to  the  krim  khans.  This,  however,  proved  but  a  truce. 
It  was  impossible  that  an  aggressive  state  like  Russia  shovdd 
live  in  friendship  vdth  a  marauding  power  like  that  of  the 
Krim  Tatars.  Tho  primary  cause  of  contention  was  the 
khanate  of  Kasan,  which  was  recovered  by  the  Jlongols, 
and  lost  again  to  Russia  with  that  of  Astralchan  in  1555. 
The  sultan,  however,  declined  to  accept  this  condition  of 
things  as  final,  and  instigated  Devlet  Girai,  the  Krim 
khan,  to  attempt  their  recovery.  With  this  object  the 
latter  marched  an  army  northwards,  where,  finding  the  road 
to  Moscow  unprotected,  ho  pushed  on  in  the  direction  of 
that  ill-starred  city.  On  arriving  before  its  walls  he  found 
a  large  Russian  force  occupying  tho  suburbs.  With  these, 
however,  ho  was  saved  from  an  encounter,  for  just  as  his 
foremost  men  approached  the  town  a  fire  broke  out,' 
which,  in  consci|Utnco  of  tho  high  wind  blowing  at  the 
time,  spread  with   frightful  rapidity,   and   in   the  spaco 


MONGOLS 


749- 


of  six  hours  destroyed  all  the  churches,  palaces,  and 
houses,  with  the  exception  of  the  Kremlin,  within  a 
compass  of  30  miles.  Thousands  of  the  inhabitants 
perished  iu  the  flames.  "The  river  and  ditches  about 
Moscow,"  says  Horsey,  "  were  stopped  and  filled  with  the 
multitudes  of  people,  laden  with  gold,  silver,  jewels, 
chains,  ear-rings,  and  treasures.  So  many  thousands  were 
there  burned  and  drovmed  that  the  river  could  not  be 
cleaned  for  twelve  months  afterwards."  Satisfied  with 
the  destruction  he  had  indirectly  caused,  and  unwilling  to 
attack  the  Kremlin,  the  khan  withdrew  to  the  Crimea, 
ravagLug  the  country  as  he  went.  Another  invasion  of 
tussia,  a  few  years  later  (1572),  was  not  so  fortunate  for 
ho  Mongols,  who  suffered  a  severe  defeat  near  Molody, 
•I  versts  from  Moscow.    A  campaign  against  Persia  made 

diversion  in  the  wars  which  were  constantly  waged 
eiweea  the  Krim  khan  and  the  Russians,  Cossacks,  and 
Poles.  So  hardly  were  these  last  pressed  by  their  per- 
inacious  enemies  in  1649  that  they  bound  themselves 
)y  treaty  to  pay  an  annual  subsidy  to  the  khan.  But 
;he  fortunes  of  war  were  not  always  on  the  side  of  the 
Tatars,  and  with  the  advent  of  Peter  the  Great  to  the 
Russian  throne  the  power  of  the  Krim  Mongols  began  to 
decline.  In  1696  the  czar,  supported  by  a  large  Cossack 
force  under  Mazeppa,  took  the  field  against  Selim  Girai 
Khan,  and  gained  such  successes  that  the  latter  was 
compelled  to  cede  Azoff  to  him.  By  a  turn  of  the  wheel 
of  fortune  the  khan  had  the  satisfaction  in  1710  of 
having  it  restored  to  him  by  treaty  ;  but  this  was  the  last 
real  success  that  attended  the  Tatar  arms.  In  1735  the 
Russians  in  their  turn  invaded  the  Crimea,  captured  the 
celebrated  lines  of  Perekop,  and  ravaged  Baghchi  Serai, 
the  capital.  The  inevitable  fate  which  was  hanging  over 
the  Krim  Tatars  was  now  being  rapidly  accomplished. 
In  1783  the  Krim,  together  with  the  eastern  portion  of 
the  land  of  the  Nogais,  became  absorbed  into  the  Russian 
province  of  Taurida. 

Another  branch  of  the  Mongol  family  which  requires 
mention  is  that  of  the  Kazaks  (see  Kirghiz,  vol.  xiv.  pp. 
95,  96),  whose  ancient  capital  was  Sighnak,  which,  as  we 
have  seen,  passed  into  the  hands  of  the  great  Timur.  It 
will  now  only  be  necessary  to  refer  briefly  to  the  Uzbegs, 
who,  on  the  destruction  of  the  Golden  Horde,  assumed  an 
important  position  on  the  east  of  the  Caspian  Sea.  The 
founder  of  their  greatness  was  the  khan  Abulkhair,  who 
reigned  in  the  15th  century,  and  who,  Hke  another  Jenghiz 
Khan,  consolidated  a  power  out  of  a  number  of  small  clans, 
and  added  lustre  to  it  by  his  successful  wars.  Sheibani 
Khan,  his  grandson,  proved  him^self  a  worthy  successor,  and 
a  doughty  antagonist  of  the  great  Moghul  emperor  Baber. 
In  1500  he  inflicted  a  severe  defeat  on  Baber's  forces,  and 
captured  Samarkand,  Herat,  and  Kandahar.  By  these  and 
other  conquests  he  became  possessed  of  all  the  country  be- 
tween the  Oxus  and  the  Jaxartes,  of  Ferghana,  Kharezm, 
and  Hissar,  as  well  as  of  the  territory  of  Tashkend  from 
Kashgar  to  the  frontiers  of  China.  In  the  following  year, 
by  a  dashing  exploit,  Baber  recovered  Samarkand,  but  only 
to  lose  it  again  a  few  months  later.  During  several  succeed- 
ing years  Sheibani's  arms  proved  victorious  in  many  fields 
of  battle,  and  but  for  an  indiscreet  outrage  on  the  terri- 
tories of  the  shah  of  Persia  he  might  have  left  behind  him 
a  powerful  empire.  The  anger,  however,  of  Shah  Ismael 
roused  against  him  a  force  before  which  he  was  destined 
to  falL  The  two  armies  met  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
Merv,  where,  after  a .  desperate  encounter,  the  Uzbegs 
were  completely  defeated.  Sheibani,  with  a  few  followers, 
sought  refuge  in  a  cattle-pound.  But,  finding  no  exit  on 
vhe  farther  side,  the  refugees  tried  to  leap  their  horses 
over  the  wall.  In  this  attempt  Sheibani  was  killed. 
iWhen  his  body  was  recognized  by  his  exultant  enemies 


they  cut  off  the  head  and  presented  it  to  the  shah,  who 
caused  the  skull  to  be  mounted  in  gold  and  to  be  converted 
into  a  drinking-cup.  After  this  defeat  the  Uzbegs  withdrew 
across  the  Oxus  and  abandoned  Khordsiu.  Farther  east  the 
news  aroused  liuber  to  renewed  activity,  and  before  long 
he  reoccupied  Sani.irkand  and  the  province  "  Beyond  the 
River,"  which  had  been  dominated  by  the  Uzbegs  for  nine 
years.  But  though  the  Uzbegs  were  defeated,  they  were  by 
no  means  crushed,  and  ere  long  we  find  their  khans  reigning, 
now  at  Samarkand,  and  now  at  BokharaT  As  time  advanced 
and  European  powers  began  to  encroach  more  and  more 
into  Asia,  the  history  of  the  khanates  ceases  to  be  confined 
to  the  internecine  struggles  of  rival  khans.  Even  Bokhara 
was  not  beyond  the  reach  of  Russian  ambition  and  English 
diplomacy.  Several  European  envoys  found  their  way 
thither  during  the  first  half  of  the  present  century,  and 
the  murder  of  Stoddart  and  Connolly  in  18-12  forms  a 
melancholy  episode  in  British  relations  with  that  fanatical 
capital.  W/^  the  absorption  of  the  khanate  of  Bokhara 
and  the  capture  of  Khiva  by  the  Russians  the  individual 
history  of  the  Mongol  tribes  in  Central  Asia  comes  to  an 
end,  and  their  name  has  left  its  imprint  only  on  the  dreary 
stretch  of  Chinese-owned  country  from  Manchuria  to  the 
Altai  Mountains,  and  to  the  equally  unattractive  coimtry 
in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  Koko-nor.  (e.  k.  d.) 

Lair^iuage  and  LiUratiirc. — The  Mongol  tongue  is  a  nicmtcr  of 
the  great  stock  which  recent  scholars  designate  as  Finno-Tataric  or 
Ural-Altaic,  which  comprehends  also  the  languages  of  the  Txuigoos 
(Manchu),  Tuiko-Tatars,  Finns,  and  Samoyeds.  The  members  of 
this  group  are  not  so  closely  related  to  one  another  as  those  of  the 
Indo-European  stock  ;  but  they  are  all  hound  together  by  the  com- 
mon principle  of  agglutinative  formation,  especially  the  so-called 
hannony  of  vowels,  by  their  grammatical  structure,  and  also  by- 
certain  common  elements  in  the  stock  of  roots  which  run  through 
thera  all,  or  through  particular  more  closely-connected  families 
within  the  group.  ^ 

The  fatherland  proper  of  the  Mongols  is  the  so-called  Mongolia. 
It  stretches  from  Sibei-ia  in  the  north  towards  the  Great  Wall  of 
China  in  the  south,  from  Dauria  and  Manchuria  in  the  east  to  the 
Altai  and  the  sources  of  the  Irtish,  Thian-shan  (i.^.,  heaven  moun- 
tains), and  East  Turkestan  in  the  -west.  In  the  centre  of  this 
country  is  the  desert  of  Gobi  (Chinese  Sha-mo,  i.e.,  sand-sea).  The 
Mongolian  population,  however,  extends  in  the  south  over  the  Grcit 
Wall  to  the  basin  of  the  Kbkb-nor  (blue  lake),  and  thence  extends 
due  west  over  Tangut  and  the  northern  border  of  Tibet.  Crossing 
the  political  frontier,  we  find  Mongols  in  the  Russian  province 
Turkestan,  in  the  territories  of  Semiryetshensk  (land  of  the  seven 
streams),  Alatau,  and  Semipalatinsk  in  the  west,  in  the  south  of 
the  province  of  Tomsk,  with  a  more  populous  region  due  north  in 
Siberia,  round  the  Baikal  Lake.  The  country  north  of  the  Gobi, 
from  the  Altai,  Tangnu,  and  the  Saian  mountains  iu  the  .west  to 
Manchuria  in  the  east,  is  called  Ehalkha,  with  the  chief  distiicts 
Urga  (Kure),  Uliassutai,  Khobdo  (Kobdo).  In  a  north-westerly 
direction  from  Gobi,  bet^veen  Thian-shan  and  the  Altai,  is  Sungaria. 
The  sum  total  of  the  Mongol  population  under  Chinese  government 
is  calculated  at  between  two  and  three  millions. 

Generally  the  whole  Mongol  ti-ibe  may  be  divided  into  three 
branches  :  East  Mongols,  West  Mongols,  and  Buriats. 

(1)  The  East  Mongols  are  divided  into  the  Khalkhas  in  the 
borders  just  mentioned,  the  Shara  Mongols  south  of  the  Gobi  along 
the  Great  Wall  north-eastward  to  Manchuria,  and  lastly  the  Shii- 
aigol  or  Sharaigol  in  Tangut  and  in  northern  Tibet. 

(2)  On  the  signification  and  employment  of  the  difierent  names 
of  the  West  Mongols  (Kalmuks,  Oelbd,  Oirad  or  Dorbiin  Oirad  =  the 
foiu-  Oirad,  Mongol  Oirad),  and  also  as  regards  the  subdivision  of  the 
tribes,  there  is  much  uncertainty.  The  name  Kalmuk,  so  generally 
employed  among  us,  is  in  fact  only  used  by  the  Volga  Kalmuks 
(Khalimak),  but  even  with  them  the  name  is  not  common,  and 
almost  a  bj-name.  It  is  of  foreign  origin,  and  most  likely  a  Tataric 
word  which  has  yet  to  be  explained.  Oirad  means  the  "near 
ones,"  the  "related."  The  usual  explanation  given  is  that  the 
single  tribes  consider  themselves  as  being  related  to  each  other, — 
hence  Mongol  Oirad,  "the  Mongol  related  tribe."  This  is  the 
favoui-ite  name  among  Kalmuks.  Dbrbbn  Oira  J,  or  the  four  related 
tribes,  comprise  (1)  Sungars,  (2)  Torgod,  (3)  Khoshod,  (i)  Dorbbd. 


'  Compare  W.  Schott,  Versuch  iiber  die  tatarischcn  Spradicn  (Berl., 
1886),  Ueber  das  altaCsche  od^rjinn^jch-tatarisc/ie  SprachengeschUchi 
(Berl.,  1849),  Aitajische  Sliiditn,  P.nrts  i.-v.  (Berl.,  1860-1870);  and 
A.  Gastrin,  Ethnologische  Vorlesungen  iiber  die  Altai'schen  Votker;; 
edited  by  A.  Schiefhet  (Fetersb.,  18i7). 


750 


M  O  I^   Ci  O  L  S 


The  signification  of  the  name  Oeldd,  in  the  East  Mongolian  Ocgelcd, 
now  the  most  widely  spread  amonc;  the  tribes  living  in  China,  is 
iikewiie  very  doubtful.  Some  assert  that  '*  Oelod"  is  nothing  but 
the  Chinese  transcription  of  Oirad,  as  the  ordinary  Chinese  language 
does  not  possess  the  sound  r.  We  have,  however,  to  bear  in  mind 
that  we  have  a  Mongolian  root  Ogelekii,  with  the  sense  "to  be  in- 
imical," "  to  bear  hatred,  ill-will,"  &c.  The  main  population  of  the 
Kalmuks  live,  or  rather  drag  out,  their  existence  after  the  usual 
fashion  of  nomad  tribes  in  Sungaria,  in  the  eastern  part  of  the  Thian- 
shan,  on  the  south  border  of  the  Gobi,  on  Kokd-nor,  and  in  the 
province  of  Kan-suh.  All  these  are  under  the  Chinese  Government. 
In  consequence,  however,  of  the  extension  of  the  Russian  empire 
in  Thian-shan  and  Alatau,  many  hordes  have  come  under  the  Rus- 
sian sway.  According  to  an  approximate  account  we  may  reckon 
in  the  tcmtory  Semiryetshensk  (Kuldja)  and  Semipalatinsk  34,000 
Kalmuks,  while  in  the  southern  part  of  the  government  Tomsk, 
on  the  Altai,  the  Kalmuk  population  amounted  formerly  to  19,000. 
Besides  these  we  find  a  section  of  Kalmuk  population  far  in  the 
west,  on  the  banks  of  the  Volga  (near  Astrakhan).  From  their 
•original  seats  in  Sungaria  they  turned  in  their  migrations  to  the 
north,  crossed  the  steppe  of  the  Kirghiz,  and  thus  gradually  reached 
the  Emba  and  the  Or.  Between  these  two  rivers  and  the  Ural  the 
Torgod  settled  in  1616  ;  thence  they  crossed  the  Volga  in  1650, 
and  took  possession  of  the  now  so-called  steppe  of  the  Kalmuks, 
being  followed  in  1673  by  the  Dorbbd,  and  in  1675  by  the  Khoshod. 
In  1771  a  considerable  number  returned  to  the  Chinese  empire. 
At  the  present  time  there  is  a  not  unimportant  population  in  the 
so-called  steppe  of  the  Kalmuks,  which  extends  between  the  Caspian 
and  the  Volga  in  the  east  and  the  Don  in  the  west,  and  fiom  the 
town  of  Sarepta  in  the  north  to  the  Kuma  and  the  Manytch  in 
the  south.  According  to  modern  statistical  accounts,  this  popula- 
tion amounts  to  75,630.  To  these  we  have  to  add  24,603  more  on 
the  borders  of  the  Cossacks  of  the  Don,  and  lastly  729S  in  the 
bordering  provinces  of  Orenburg  and  Saratoff.  The  sum  total  of 
the  so-called  Volga  Kalmuks  is  therefore  107,531. 

(3)  In  the  southern  part  of  the  Russian  province  of  Irkutsk, 
in  a  wide  circle  round  the  Baikal  Lake,  lies  the  heirdom  proper  of 
the  Buriats,  which  they  also  call  the  "Holy  Sea;"  the  country 
east  of  the  lake  is  commonly  called  Transbaikalia.  Their  country 
practically  extends  from  the  Chinese  frontier  on  the  south  within 
almost  parallel  lines  to  the  north,  to  the  to\\'n  Kirensk  on  the  Lena, 
and  from  the  Onon  in  the  east  to  the  Oka,  a  tributary  of  the  Angara, 
in  the  west,  and  still  farther  west  towards  Nijni-Udinsk.  They 
are  most  numerous  beyond  the  Baikal  Lake,  in  the  valleys  along 
the  Uda,  the  Onon,  and  the  Selenga,  and  in  Nertchinsk.  These 
Trans- Baikalian  Buriats  came  to  these  parts  only  towards  the  end 
of  the  17th  century  from  the  Khalkhas.  While  Mongols  and  Kal- 
muks generally  continue  to  live  after  the  usual  fashion  of  nomads, 
,  we  find  here  agricultural  pursuits,  most  likely,  however,  due  mainly 
to  Russian  influence.  Christianity  is  also  making  its  way.  The 
sum  total  of  the  Buriats  amounts  at  present  to  about  250,000, 

Another  tribe  separated  from  the  rest  of  the  Mongols  is  the  so- 
called  Hazara  (the  thousand),  and  the  four  Aimak  {i.e.,  tribes), 
who  wander  about  as  herdsmen  in  Afghanistan,  between  Herat  and 
Kabul.  In  external  characteristics  they  are  Mongols,  and  in  all 
probability  they  are  the  remains  of  a  tribe  from  the  time  of  the 
Mongol  dynasty.  Their  language,  which  shows,  of  course,  Persian 
influence,  is  strictly  Mongolian,  more  particularly  West  ilongolian  or 
Kalmuk,  as  baa  been  proved  by  H.  C.  von  der  Gabelentz.^ 

Agreeably  with  this  threefold  division  of  the  Mongols  we  have 
-alo  a  threefold  division  of  their  respective  languages:  (1)  East 
Mongolian  or  Mongolian  proper,  (2)  West  Mongolian  or  Kalmuk, 
(3)  Buriatic. 

The  dialects  just  mentioned  are  found  to  be  in  close  relation  to 
each  other  when  wc  ejramine  their  roots,  inflexions,  and  grammatical 
structure.  The  difl"erenc6  between  them  is  indeed  so  slight  that 
whoever  understands  one  of  them  understands  all.  Phonetically  a 
characteristic  of  them  all  is  the  "harmony  of  vowels,"  which  are 
divided  into  two  chief  classes  :  the  hard  a,  o,  u  ;  and  the  soft  e,  i>,  U  \ 
between  which  i  is  in  the  middle.  All  vowels  of  the  same  word 
must  necessarily  belong  to  the  same  class,  so  that  the  nature  of  the 
first  or  root-vowel  determines  the  nature  of  the  other  or  inflexion- 
vowels  ;  now  and  then  a  sort  of  retrogressive  harmony  takes  place, 
60  that  a  later  vowel  determines  the  nature  of  the  former.  The 
■consonants  preceding  the  vowels  are  equally  under  their  influence. 
The  Mongolian  characters,  which  in  a  slightly  altered  form  are 
also  in  use  among  the  Manchus,  are  written  perpendicularly  from 
above  downward,  and  the  lines  follow  from  left  to  right,  the  aljAa- 
bet  having  signs  for  seven  vowels  a,  c,  i,  o,  u,  d,  U,  and  diphthongs 
derived  from  them  ao,  ai,  ei,  ii,  oi,  ui,  6i,  i/i,  and  for  seventeen  con- 
Bonants  n,  6,  k/i,  gh,  k;  g,  m,  I,  r  (never  initial),  t,  d,  y,  s  ((/s),  ts, 
S3,  ah,  to.  All  these  are  moJiflod  in  shape  accoi-ding  to  thoirposirion, 
in  the  beginning,  miildlo,  or  end  of  a  word,  and  also  by  certain 
orthographic  rules.  In  Mongolian  and  Manchu  writing  tho  syllable 
(t.<.,  the  consonant  together  with  tho  vowel)  is  considered  as  a  unit. 


in  other  woids,  a  syllabarium  rather  than  an  alphabet.  The  exist- 
ing characters  are  hneal  doscendanta  of  the  original  Uigurian  forms, 
which  were  themselves  derived  from  the  Syriac,  having  been  brought 
to  the  Uigurs  by  Nestorian  missionaries.  An  Indian  and  Tibetan 
influence  may  also  be  noticed,  while  the  arrangement  of  the  char- 
acters in  perpendicular  lines  is  common  to  the  Chinese.  The  sit- 
ing was  brought  into  its  present  shape  by  the  learned  Larnas  Sa- 
skya  Pandita,  Phags-pa  Lama,  and  Tshoitshi  Odser  in  the  13th 
century,^  but  is  exceedingly  imperfect.  To  express  the  frequently- 
occurring  letters  boiTowed  from  Sanskrit  and  Tibetan,  ■which  are 
-wanting  in  the  Mongol  alphabet,  a  special  alphabet  called  Gallk 
is  employed.  Every  one  who  has  tried  to  read  Mongolian  knows 
how  many  difficulties  have  to  be  overcome,  arising  fiom  the  ambi- 
guity of  certain  letters,  or  from  the  fact  that  the  same  sign  is  to 
be  pronounced  differently  according  to  its  position  in  the  word. 
Thus,  there  are  no  means  for  distinguishing  the  o  and  «,  5  and  H, 
the  consonants  g  and  k,  t  and  d,  ;/  and  s  [ds).  A  and  c,  o  (u)  and 
0  {U),  a  (f)  and  n,  g  and  kh,  t  {d.)  and  on,  are  liable  to  be  mistaken 
for  each  other.  Other  changes  will  be  noticed  and  avoided  by 
advanced  students.  It  is  a  great  defect  that  such  common  wordi 
as  ada  (a  fury)  and  cnde  (here),  emde  (here)  and  nada  (me),  aldan 
(fathom)  and  altan  (gold),  (rrdic  (court-residence)  and  nrlic  (long), 
onokhu  (to  seize)  and  unukku  (to  ride),  tere  (this)  and  dere  (pillow^, 
yebe  (said)  and  kcbc  (made),  gem  (evil)  and  kern  (measure),  gcr  (house) 
and  ker  (how),  naran  (sun)  and  nere  (name),  yagon  (what)  and 
dsagon  (hundred),  should  be  written  exactly  alike.  This  list  might 
be  largely  increased.  These  defects  apply  equally  to  the  Mongolian 
and  Buriatic  alphabets. 

In  1648  the  Saya  Pandita  composed  a  new  alphabet  (the  Kalmuk), 
in  which  these  ambiguities  are  avoided,  though  thegraphic  differences 
between  the  two  alphabets  are  only  slight.  The  Kalmuk  alphabet 
avoids  the  angular  and  clumsy  shapes  of  the  Mongolian,  and  has, 
on  the  contrary,  a  rounded  and  pleasing  shape.  The  Kalmuk 
alphabet  has  also  this  great  advantage,  that  every  sound  has  its 
distinct  graphic  character  ;  a  mistake  between  two  characters  can 
scarcely  occur.  The  Kalmuk  words  once  mastered,  they  can  be 
easily  recognized  in  their  Mongolian  shape.  The  dialectical  differ- 
ences are  also  very  slight. 

The  Kalmuk,  therefore,  is  the  key  of  the  Mongolian,  and  should 
form  tho  groundwork  of  Mongolian  studies.  The  Kalmuk  and  East 
Mongolian  dialects  do  not  differ  much,  at  least  in  the  spoken  language ; 
but  the  Kalmuks  WTite  according  to  their  pronunciation,  while  the 
Mongols  do  not.  For  example,  son  (c?se7t),  "nundred,"  is  pronounced 
alike  by  the  Kalmuks  and  the  East  Mongolians  ;  but  according  to 
Mongolian  orthography  the  word  appears  in  the  form  dsagcn.  The 
dial*";tic  difference  between  the  ti\o  dialects  very  frequently  lies 
only  in  a  different  pronunciation  of  some  letters.  Thus  East  Mon- 
golian fis  is  in  Kalmuk  soft  s,  &c.  The  chief  difference  between  the 
two  dialects  lies  in  the  fact  that  in  Kalmuk  the  soft  guttural  g  be- 
tween t\vo  vowels  is  omitted,  while,  through  the  joining  of  the  two 
vowels,  a  long  vowel  is  produced.  In  the  pronunciation  of  common 
East  Mongolian  tho  g  is  likewise  omitted,  but  it  is  written,  while 
in  Kalmuk,  as  just  now  mentioned,  the  guttural  can  only  be  trace^l 
through  the  lengthening  of  the  syllable.  Thus  we  find  :  Mongol 
khagan,  "prince,"  Kalmuk  kkdn  ;  M.  dagon,  "voice,  sound,"  K. 
doll,  dun  ;  M.  dologan,  "  seven 'VK.  dolon  ;  M.  agola,  "mountain," 
S.  5ia,  ula  ;  M.  nagor,  "lake,  '  K.  ndr^  niir  ;  M.  ulagan,  "red," 
K.  iildn;  M.  yagon,  "what,"K.  ydn{yii7i);  M.  rfaJa^-rtn, "mountain- 
ridge,"  K.  dabdn  ;  M.  ssanagan,  "  thought,"  K.  ssandn  ;  M.  baragov, 
"  on  the  right,"  K.  baron,  barun  ;  M.  shibagon,  "  bird,"  K.  showdn  ; 
M.  chilagon,  "stone,"  K.  chUdn  (chuIilJi)  ;  M.  Jirgogan,  "six,"  K. 
surgdn;  M.  dcgcre,  "high,  above,"  K.  dere;  M.  ugiikhu,  "to drink," 
K.  ukhu;  M.  togodshi,  "history,"  K.  todshi,  tudshi;  M.  cgildcn, 
"door,"  K.  oden;  M.  dsegiin,  "left,"  K.  s6n;  M.  Ggede,  "in  the 
height,"  K.  6di) ;  M.  ^gded,  "the  Kalmuks,"  K.  olod ;  M.  ilileged, 
"if  one  has  done,"  K.  iliUd;  M.  kabegiin,  "son,"  K.  kiiit-dn  ;  M. 
gcgiin,  ".mare,"  K.  g^n\  M.  kcgUr,  "corpse,"K.  k-ur;  M.  kharigad, 
"returned,"  K.  khared,  &c. 

Tho  Buriatic,  in  these  peculiarities,  is  almost  always  found  with 
East  Mongolian,  with  which  it  is  in  every  respect  closely  allied. 
In  the  pronunciation  of  some  letters  the  transition  of  East  Mongolian 
Ua,  ise  into  Buriatic  ss  is  noticeable  ;  for  instance :  Mong.  tsetsek, 
"flower,"  Buriatic  ssessek ;  M,  tsak,  "time,"  B.  ssak ;  M.  tsagan, 
"white,"  B.  s.'iagan  ;  M.  tsdscn,  "prudent,"  B.  sscsscn.  Ss  is  some- 
times pronounced  like  (the  German)  ch:  East  M.  ssain,  "good,"  B. 
chain;  M.  sscdkil,  "heart,"  B.  chedkil,  K  in  the  beginnin;;  or 
middlo  of  a  word  is  always  a^piratciL 

The  noun  is  declined  by  the  help  of  appended  particles,  some  of 
which  are  independent  post-positions,  viz.,  Gen.  ytn,  u,  un\  Dat. 
rf^ir,  a ;  Ace.  yi,  i ;  Ablat  else  ;  lustrum,  bcr,  ycr ;  Associative, 
htga,  luge.  The  dative  and  accusative  have  also  special  forms  which 
have  at  the  same  time  a  possessive  sense,  viz.,  Dat  dagan,  dcgen  ; 
Accus.  ben,  yen.  Tho  plural  is  expressed  by  affixes  (naj;  ner,  od, 
ss,  d),  or  freauently  by  words  of  plurality,  "all,"  "many,"  c.g.^ 
kilmiin  nog6d  (man,  many^mi-n).      Tho  oblique  cases  have  the 

»  Cf.  H.  C.  von  dcr  GabelcDti,  in  the  Zcitachrifl  /.  d.  Kundt  d.  JtfMyfn?nfid<j 
O^ttingeD,  1838,  vol  U.  pp.  1-21,  "Versucb  ubereinealtemoagoUsobeliischrlft.' 


M  O  N  — M  O  N 


761 


•une  en(UQg9  in  eingular  and  plural.  Gender  is  not  indicated. 
The  adjective  is  uninflected  both  as  attribute  and  as  predicate  ; 
there  is  no  comparative  form,  this  idea  being  expressed  by  the  con- 
struction or  by  the  use  of  certain  particles.  The  personal  pronouns 
an  bi,  I ;  tchi,  thou  ;  bida,  we  ;  ta,  ye  ;  their  genitives  serve  &s  pos- 
Mssives.  The  demons tratives  are  en«,  Ure  (this,  that),  plural  ede^ 
Ude  ;  interrogative  ken^  who !  The  reUtive  is  lacking,  and  its  place 
is  supplied  -by  circumlocutions.  The  numerals  are :  1,  nigen  ;  2, 
khoyar  ;  3,  gurhan  ;  4,  dSrben  ;  S,  tabun  ;  6,  jirgugan  ;  7,  dologan  \ 
8,  naiTTtan;  9,  yisun  \  10,  arban  ;  100,  dsagon  ;  1000,  minggan. 
The  ordinals  are  formed  by  appenthng  tugar,  tiiger.  The  theme  of 
the  verb  is  seen  in  the  imperative,  as  bari,  grasp.  The  conjugation 
is  rich  in  forms  for  tense  and  mood,  but  person  and  number  are  with 
few  exceptions  unexpressed.  The  present  is  formed  from  the  theme 
by  adding  mui  {barirmii),  the  preterite  by  bai  or  luga  (baribai,  bari- 
luga),  the  future  by  ssugai  or  asu  (barissugai,  barissu).  The  preterite 
has  also  in  the  third  person  the  terminations  dsugui  and  run  ;  the 
future  has  in  the  third  person  yu,  and  in  the  first  ya.  The  con* 
ditional  ends  in  bassu  ifiarxbassu),  the  precative  in  tugai,  tiigei, 
the  potential  in  $a  {bariTnuUa),  the  imperative  plural  in  ktxtn,  the 
gerund  in  the  present  in  n,  dsu  {barin,  baridsu)  or  tala, "while,  till  " 
{bariiala^  "inter  capiendura"),  in  the  preterite  it  is  formed  in  gad 
{barigad)  ;  the  present  part,  has  ktchi  [bai^tchi),  the  past  part. 
kssan  {barikssar.)  ;  the  supine  ends  in  ra,  the  infinitive  in  khu 
{barikhii,  or  when  used  substantively  barikhui).  Ther«  is  but  one 
perfectly  regular  conjugation,  and  derivative  forms,  derived  from 
the  theme  by  infixes,  are  conjugated  on  the  same  scheme.  Thus 
the  passive  has  infixed  ta  or  kSi  {barikdakhu,  to  be  grasped),  the 
causative  gul  {barigulkhu,  to  caxise  to  grasp),  the  co-operative  or 
sociative  Usa  or  Ida  (barillsakhu,  to  grasp  together). 

There  are  no  prepositions,  only  post-positions.  Adverbs  are  either 
simple  particles  (affirmative,  negative,  interrogative,  mod^d,  kc), 
or  are  formed  by  suffixes  from  other  parts  of  crieech.  There  are 
Ter^  few  conjunctions  ;  the  relations  of  clauses  and  sentences  are 
mainly  indicated  by  the  verbal  forms  (part.,  sup.,  conditional,  but 
mainly  by  the  gerund). 

The  order  of  words  and  sentences  in  construction  is  pretty  much 
the  opposite  of  that  which  wo  follow.  In  a  simple  sentence  the 
indication  of  time  and  place,  whether  given  by  an  adverb  or  a  sub- 
stantive with  a  post-position,  always  comes  lirst ;  then  comes  the 
subject,  always  preceded  by  its  adjective  or  genitive,  then  the  object 
and  other  cases  depending  on  the  verb,  last  of  all  the  verb  itself 
preceded  b/  any  adverbs  that  belong  to  it  So  in  the  structure  of 
a  period  all  causal,  hypothetical,  concessive  clauses,  which  can  be 
conceived  as  preceding  the  main  predication  in  point  of  time,  or 
even'as-contemporary  with  it,  or  as  in  any  way  modifying  it,  must 
come  first ;  the  finite  verb  appears  only  at  th*  end  of  the  main 
predication  or  apodosis.  The  periods  are  longer  than  in  other 
languages  ;  a  single  one  may  fill  several  pages. 

Grmmmara  and  dictionaries  may  be  divided  according  to  the  three  dialect*. 
For  East  Mongolian,  I.  J.  Schniidt  gave  the  first  grammar  (I'etersb.,  1831X  aod 
aMongolfan-Gcrman-RussiaQ  dictionary(Pctersb.,  1835).  Next  Joa.  Kowalewsld 
publianed  ia  Russian  a  iiongoIiaD  grammar  (Kasan,  1835X  a  chrestomathy  (2 
Tola.,  KAcan,  1836, 1837),  and  iiisgreat  Di<iionnair»inofiyoI-rM«.fran^u(3  vols., 
KasAD,  1S44,  1840,  1349).  We  came  also  R.  Tuille,  Short  Mongolian  Grammar 
<in  MonpolianX  xylographed  at  the  mission  press  near  Bselenginsk  beyond  Lake 
Baikal  (1833).  A.  BobrowBikow's  Rusaian  Grammar  o/ ths  Mongolian-Kalmvk 
Langvagt  (Kasan,  1849)  is  also  very  good.  An  abridgment  of  Schmidt's  work 
ia  C.  Puini,  EUmenti  della  fframmatica  mongolica  (Florence.  1878).  A.  Popow'a 
Mongolian  C7ir«X<wn<UAv  appearert  in  2  vols,  at  Kasan  (1836).  For  the  KaJmuk 
we  have  grammars  by  Popow  iKaaan,  1847),  Bobrownikow  aa  above,  and  H.  A. 
Zwick  (i.  I.  tt  a.),  autographed  at  Donaaeschingen  (1861).  Zwick'a  autographed 
Kalmuk  and  Oerman  dictionary  with  a  printed  German  index  appeared  (i.  {. 
tl  a.)  in  K62  ;  B.  JUlg's  edition  of  the  tales  of  Siddbl-kQr  (Leips.,  1866)  gives 
a  complete  glossary  to  these  stories.  There  are  small  Russian  and  Kalmuk 
Tocabuloriu  by  P.  Smirnov  (fiLasan,  1857}  and  C.  Qolstonskyi  (Petersb.,  18G0}. 


atic  coUoqoial  language  (Kasan,  1878). 

HUTaiurt.—A  clear  distinction  must  be  drawn  between  tlie  higher  and  noblw 
written  or  book-la ngiiage  and  the  common  or  conversational  language  of  every- 
day life.  The  difference  between  the  two  is  very  considerable,  and  may  b« 
foirly  compared  to  that  between  the  Modem  High  German  book-language  and 
th9  different  dialects.  AU  grammars  and  dictionaries  as  yet  published  treat 
only  of  the  book -language ;  and  so  also,  with  a  few  exceptions,  the  publlahed 
literary  documents  arc  written^in  this  higher  style.  The  exceptions  are  tbs 
Gesser-Khan,  and  the  Siddhi-kur  and  Djangariad  (the  last  two  published  by 
GolstuDskyi).  The  popular  or  conversational  language  has  only  quite  lately  been 
fixed  in  writing  by  A.  Pordnyeyew  in  his  Russian  work,  Speciment  o/  tht  Popular 
LUtToXurt  of  the  Mongolian  THbe$,  part  I.,  "  Popular  Songs"  (Petersb.,  1880X 
which  contains  rich  material  for  the  study  of  the  popular  literature. 

The  literature  known  at  present  consists  mostly  of  translations  from  the 
Tibetan,  the  holy  language  of  Buddhism,  which  is  still  the  language  of  the 
learned.  The  Tibetan  Buddhist  literature  is  itself  translated  from  the  Banskrit  I 
hence,  now  and  then,  through  Mongols  and  Kalmuks  we  get  acquainted  with 
Indian  works  the  originals  of  which  are  not  known  in  Sanskrit  Such  Is  the 
case,  for  instance,  with  the  tales  of  Siddhi-kllr.  Many  b<]oks  have  also  been 
translated  from  the  Chinese.  Most  of  the  writings  are  of  a  religious,  historical, 
philosophical,  medical,  astronomical,  or  astrological  character.  Favourite  sub- 
jects are  folk-lore  and  fairy  tales.  Amonff  the  religious  books,  perhaps  the  most 
important  Is  that  containing  the  legenda  entitled  iiliger  iin  dalai,  "ocean  of 
comparisons"  (edited  by  the  late  I.  Jacob  Sclimidt  under  the  title,  Dtr  iVeiM 
vtid  der  Thor,  in  Tibetan  and  German,  Petersb.,  1843).  To  this  may  be  added 
the  boddhi  mor,  or  "  the  holy  path,"  the  altan  gtrtl,  "gleaming  of  gold,"  tbs 
tiiani  gamix),  and  yeriiintchii  yin  toH,  "  mirror  of  the  world."  What  was  known 
of  poetical  lit^'-ratnre  before  Pozdnyeyew  is  scarcely  worth  mentioning,  la 
some  parte  of  v^ac  Historical  and  narrative  literature  we  find,  wherever  the  nar- 
rative takes  a  higher  flight,  an  admixture  of  poetical  diction.  The  poetry 
appears  in  a  certain  parallelism  of  the  phrases,  with  a  return  eitiier  of  the 
same  endings  (rhyme)  or  of  the  same  words  (refrain).  Frequently  we  find, 
besides  the  rhyme  or  relVain.  alliteration.  The  essay  of  H.  C.  von^der  Qabeleatz 
in  Z.  /  d.  KuTide  da  Morgeniandts,  vol.  i.  pp.  20-37,  "  Einiget  Uber  Mongoliache 
Poesie,"  has  been  superseded  by  the  work  of  Pozdnyeyew. 

Among  historical  works  a  high  place  is  due  to  that  composed  by  the  tribal 
prince,  Ssanang  Ssetsen,  in  the  middle  of  the  17th  century  {Geschichte  dtr  Ott- 
Mongolen  und  tkra  Fiirttenhavaa,  Mong.  and  Germ.,  by  I.  J.  Schmidt,  Petereb., 
1829X  and  to  the  Altan  tobtchi,  i.e.,  "  Golden  knob  "  or  "  precious  contents  " 
(text  and  Russian  translation  by  the  Lama  Oalsang  Gomboyew,  Petersb., 
1858).  Of  folk-lore  and  fairy  tales,  we  have  the  legend  of  the  hero  Cess€r^ 
KJian  (text  ed.  by  I.  J.  Schmidt,  Petersb.,  1836.  and  German  version.  1839 ;  comp. 
Schott.  Ueberdie  Sags  v.  Geser-Khan,  Berl.,  1851,  and  B.  JUlgin  the  Transaciumt 
oftbe  WiirzbnrgerPhlloI.Versam.  ofl868,  pp.  58*5^.,  Leips.,  186^);  and  tbe tales 
about  Ardshi  Bordski  (Russian  version  by  Galsang  Gomooyew,  Petersb.,  1858  ; 
text  and  German  trans,  by  B.  Jtllg,  Innsbr.,  1867,  1868).  A  favourite  book  Is^ 
the  tales  of  Siddhi-kOr  based  on  the  Sanskrit  Vetdla  panckavini:a(i  (Russiaa 
trans,  by  GaLjang  Gomboyew,  Petersb.,  1865  ;  nine  of  the  tales  in  MongoUari 
and  German  by  B.  Jiilg,  Innsbr.,  1868).  The  fuller  collection  of  these  tales  In 
Kalmuk  first  became  Itnown  by  the  German  trans,  of  B.  Bergmann  in  vol.  L 
of  his  Nomadiscr.e  Strei/ereun  unter  d.  Kalmiiken  (4  vols.,  Riga,  1S04,  1805)  : 
an  autographed  edition  in  the  vulgar  dialect  was  published  by  C.  Golstunskyi 
(Petersb.,  1864  ;  text  and  German  trans,  with  glossary  by  B.  Julg,  Leips.,  1865). 
A  poetic  heroic  story  is  the  Djangariad,  extracts  from  which  were  given  by 
Bergmann(op.  ci(.,  iv.  181  sqq.);  a  complete  Russian  version  by  A.  Bobrownikow 
(Petersb.,  1854);  a  German  version  by  F.  v.  Erdmann  in  Z.D.M.G.,  1857  (Kalmuk 
text  by  Golstunskyi,  Petersb,,  1864).  A  similar  poem  is  the  history  of  Ubaslu 
Khuntaidshl  and  his  war  with  the  Oirad,  Kalmuk  text  and  Russian  trans,  by 
■  G.  Gomboyew  in  hii  Altan  tobtchi  as  above,  and  text  alone  autographed  by 
Golstunskyi  (Petersb  ,  1864).  Some  books  of  religion  for  the  Christian  Buriat» 
(transcribed  in  Russian  characters)  represent  the  Buriatlc  dialect  The  Russian 
and  English  Bible  Societies  have  given  us  a  translation  of  the  whole  Btble.  L 
J.  Schmidt  translated  the  Gospels  and  the  Acts  into  Mongolian  and  Kalmnk. 
for  the  Russian  Bible  Society  (8  vols.,  Petersb.,  1819-1821X— a  masterly  work. 
The  English  missionaries,  E.  Stallybrass  and  W.  Swan,  and  afterwards  R.  Tuille, 
translated  the  whole  Old  Testament  into  Mongolian  (1836-1840).  This  work  waa 
printed  at  a  mission  press  erected  at  great  cost  for  the  purpose  near  Saelenginek, 
beyond  Lake  Baikal  in  Siberia.  In  1846  the  New  TesUment  by  the  same  haads 
appeared  at  London. 

The  richest  collections  of  Mongolian  and  Kalmuk  printed  books  and  MSS. 
are  in  the  Asiatic  museum  of  the  Petersburg  Academy,  and  In  the  libmrte*  rf 
Kasan  and  Irkutsk  ;  there  is  also  agood  collection  in  the  royal  library  at  Dres- 
den. Consult  in  general,  besides  the  already-cited  works  of  Bergmann  and  Po- 
idnyeyew,  P.  8.  Pallaa,  Samnlwtgen  historisehtr  Nachrichten  ii.  d.  Mongoltxhtm 
Volktrseha/tf'i  (2  vols.,  Petersb.,  1776-1801)-.  I.  J.  Schmidt,  Forschungtn  in  C«i)i«(# 
der&ltcren  .  .  .  Bildun^gachichtedtrVolker  Mitttlasitns.voTZ.  d.  MongaUn  untt 
Tibtter  (Petersb.  and  Leips.,  1824)  ;  B.  J'Jlg,  "  On  the  Present  SUte  of  Mongolian 
Researohes,"  Journ.  JL  At.  Soc.,  xiv.  (1882),  pp.  42-65.  (B.  J.) 


MONGOOS,  or  >/7Naoo3.     See  Ichneumon. 

MONITION,  in  the  practice  of  the  English  ecclesiastical 
courts,  ia  an  order  requiring  or  admonishing  the  person 
complained  of  to  do  something  specified  in  the  monition, 
**  under  pain  of  the  law  and  penalty  thereof."  It  is  the 
lightest  form  of  ecclesiastical  censure,  but  disobedience  to 
it,  after  it  has  been  duly  and  regularly  served,  entails  the 
penalties  of  contempt  of  court.  See  Phillimore,  EccUsi- 
astical  Law  (London,  1873). 

MONK,  Geoege  (1608-1669),  duke  of  Albemarle,  the 
second  son  of  Sir  Thomas  Monk,  a  gentleman  of  good 
family  but  in  embarrassed  circumstances,  was  born  at 
Potheridge,  near  Torrington  in  Devonshire,  on  6th  Decem- 
ber 1608.  An  exploit  which  brought  him  within  the 
reach  of  the  law  compelled  him  to  begin  his  career  as  a 
soldier  of  fortune  at  the  age  of  seventeen.  He  acted 
upder  Sir  R.  Grenville  as  a  volunteer  in  the  expedition  to 


Cadiz,  and  the  next  year  did  notable  service  at  the  I&la  cf 
Rh6. 

In  1629  Monk  went  to  the  Low  Countries,  the  training 
ground  for  military  men,  where  in  Oxford's  and  in  Gorings 
regiments  he  obtained  a  high  reputation  for  courage  and 
for  a  thorough  knowledge  of  his  trade.  In  1638  he 
threw  up  his  commission  in  consequence  of  a  quarrel  "with 
the  Dutch  civil  authorities,  came  to  England,  and  obtained 
the  lieutenant-colonelcy  of  Newport's  regiment  during  the 
operations  on  the  Scottish  border.  Here  he  showed  his 
skill  and  coolness  in  the  dispositions  by  which  he  saved 
the  English  artillery  at  Newborn,  though  himself  destitute 
of  ammunition  ;  and  in  the  councils  of  war  he  confidently 
voted  with  Strafford  for  fighting,  and  against  retreat  or 
composition.  One  of  Monk's  biographers  relates  that  he 
now  thought  of  joining  the  adventurers  who  proposed  to 
colonize  Madagascar.     The  Irish  rebellion,  however,  offered 


752 


MONK 


more  congenial  employment,  and  in  February  1641  he 
landed  at  Dublin  as  colonel  of  Lord  Leicester's  regiment. 
Here  be  greatly  increased  his  reputation.  Under  the  most 
difficult  circumstances  he  was  ever  cool,  patient,  vigorous. 
A  rigid  disciplinarian,  he  was  always  attentive  to  the  wants 
of  his  men,  and  completely  won  their  confidence  and  affec- 
tion. Ail  the  qualities  for  which  he  was  noted  through 
life,  the  calculating  selfishness  which  kept  him  ever  on 
the  winning  side  and  by  which  he  accomplished  hh  great 
historic  success,  the  imperturbable  temper  aud  impene- 
trable secrecy,  were  fully  displayed  in  this  employment. 
He  had  but  one  interest,  that  of  George  Monk ;  and  to 
secure  that  interest  he  laboured,  while  retaining  his  free- 
dom from  party  ties,  to  make  himself  indispensable  aa  a 
soldier.  The  governorship  of  Dublin  was  vacant,  aud  Monk 
was  appointed  by  Leicester.  But  Charles  L  overruled  the 
appointment  in  favour  of  Lord  Lambert,  and  Monk,  with 
great  shrewdness,  gave  up  his  claims.  Ormond,  however, 
who  viewed  him  with  suspicion  as  one  of  the  two  officers 
who  refused  the  oath  to  support  the  royal  cause  in  Eng- 
land, sent  him  under  guard  to  Bristol.  He  now  deemed 
it  safest  to  affect  EoyaJist  views.  His  value  caused  him 
to  be  received  at  once  into  Charles's  confidence ;  he  was 
appointed  major-general  of  the  Irish  brigade,  and  served 
under  Byron  at  the  siege  of  Nantwich.  Here  he  was 
taken  prisoner  by  Fairfax,  on  25th  January  1644,  in  one 
of  the  most  sldlful  operations  of  the  war.  After  a  short 
captivity  in  HuU  he  was  placed  in  the  Tower,  where  he 
remained  for  three  years  (during  which  his  father  died), 
beguiling  his  imprisonment  by  writing  his  Observations 
on  Militari/  and  Political  Affairs. 

So  long  as  the  war  lasted  Monk  could  not  be  released. 
Charles,  however,  became  a  prisoner;  the  troubles  in 
Ireland  made  the  parliament  anxious  to  secure  Monk's 
services,  and  he  was  told  that  if  he  would  take  the  Cove- 
nant he  might  have  an  important  command.  With  some 
show  of  hesitation  the  terms  were  accepted,  and,  after  a 
service  of  two  months  in  Lord  Lisle's  abortive  expedition. 
Monk  was  placed  in  command  of  the  British  forces  in  the 
north  of  Ireland.  Compelled  in  1649  to  conclude  a  pacifi- 
cation with  the  rebel  O'Neill,  he  returned  to  England  after 
the  king's  execution.  In  the  same  year  he  succeeded,  by 
his  elder  brother's  death,  to  the  family  estate.  His  idleness 
lasted  but  *  short  while.  CromweU  gave  him  a  regiment 
and  the  command  of  the  ordnance  in  the  Scotch  war  of 
1650,  and  after  the  battle  of  Dunbar,  in  which  he  led  the 
attack,  he  was  left  with  6000  men  to  subdue  the  country, 
which,  after  taking  Edinburgh,  Tantallon,  and  Stirling 
castles,  he  did  most  completely  in  a  few  weeks.  In  1651 
he  was  seized  with  fever,  but  recovered  at  Bath,  and  in 
the  same  year  was  appointed  on  the  commission  for  pro- 
moting the  Union.  In  1653,  with  Admiral  Dean,  he 
commanded  the  British  fleet  against  the  Dutch,  and  on 
2d  and  3d  June  and  29th  July  fought  two  of  the  most 
sanguinary  naval  battles  on  record,  in  which  both  his 
colleague  and  Van  Tromp  were  slain.  A  peace  on  very 
humiliating  terms  to  the  Dutch  was  concluded,  but  policy 
shortly  led  Cromwell  to  allow  milder  conditions, — a  conces- 
sion against  which  Monk  strongly  remonstrated.  On  his 
return  he  married  his  mistress,  Anne  Clarges,  a  woman  of 
the  lowest  extraction,  "  ever  a  plain  homely  dowdy,"  says 
Pepys,  who,  like  other  writers  who  mention  her,  is  usually 
stOl  less  complimentary.  Monlc  was  now  sent  to  quell  the 
revolt  headed  by  Middlcton  in  Scotland,  and,  when  tliis 
service  was  over,  settled  down  to  a  steady  government  of 
the  country  for  the  next  five  years.  For  fanaticism  in  any 
shape  be  hf!-l  no  syr.-jx'.t'iy,  and  he  set  himself  to  diminish 
;tho  indueAce  of  the  Presbyterian  clergy — Cromwell's  chief 
(.;,;^oncnt3, — taking  from  them  the  power  of  excommuni- 
cation and  their  geaeral  assemblies,  but  allowing  them  to 


retain  their  prorbytories.  Equal  repression  was  exercised 
against  the  nobility  and  gentry.  The  timely  discovery  of  a 
plot  fomented  by  Overton  for  killing  Monlc  on  New  Year's 
Day  gave  him  an  excuse  for  thoroughly  purging  hia  army 
of  all  Anabaptists,  Fifth  Monarchy  men,  and  other  danger- 
ous enthusiasts.  It  is  doubtful  whether  at  this  time  Monk 
had  proposed  to  himself  the  restoration  of  the  king.  He 
probably  had  it  always  in  his  mind  as  a  possibility,  but  he 
woWd  run  no  risks.  His  very  reticence,  however,  caused 
alarm  on  one  side  and  hope  on  the  other.  In  1655  .be 
received  a  letter  from  Charles  II.,  a  copy  of  which  hu  at 
once  sent  to  Cromwell,  wliom,  however,  we  find  wrjliug  tc 
him  in  1657  in  the  following  terms:  "There  bo  that  tell 
me  that  there  is  a  certain  cunning  fellow  in  Scotland  callo 
George  Monk,  who  is  said  to  lye  in  wait  there  to  introduc. 
Charles  Stuart ;  I  pray  you,  use  your  diligence  to  appre 
hend  him,  and  send  him  up  to  me." 

During  the  confusion  which  followed  Cromwell's  death 
Monk  remained  silent  and  watchful  at  Edinburgh,  careful 
only  to  secure  his  hold  on  his  troops.  In  July  1659 
direct  and  tempting  proposals  were  again  made  to  him 
by  the  king.  His  brother  Nicholas,  a  clergyman,  was  em- 
ployed by  Sir  J.  Grenvil  to  bring  to  him  the  substance  of 
Charles's  letter.  No  bribe,  however,  could  induce  him  to 
act  one  moment  before  the  right  time.  He  bade  his 
brother  go  back  to  his  books,  and  refused  to  entertain  any 
proposal.  But  when  Booth  rose  in  Cheshire  for  the  king, 
so  tempting  did  the  opportunity  seem  that  he  was  on 
the  point  of  joining  forces  with  him ;  and  a  letter  was 
written  to  the  Rump  parliament  threatening  force  if  it 
did  not  at  once  fill  up  its  numbers.  His  habitual  caution, 
however,  induced  him  to  wait  until  the  next  post  from 
England,  and  the  next  post  brought  news  Of-  Booth's 
defeat.  On  17  th  October  he  heard  of  Lambert's  coup 
d'etat.  From  that  moment  his  plan  of  action  seems  to 
have  been  settled.  In  most  vehement  language  he  dis- 
carded the  idea  of  restoring  Charles,  and,  with  admirAble 
perception  of  the  state  of  English  feeling,  took  for  his 
principles  that  in  aU  cases  the  army  inust  obey  the  civil 
government,  and  that  the  civil  government  must  be 
parliamentary.  At  present  the  Rump  was  crushed  by  the 
military  party ;  the  first  thing,  therefore,  to  be  done  was  to 
free  it.  His  army  vmderwent  a  second  purging  of  dis- 
affection, and  he  then  issued  a  declaration  embodying  the 
principles  mentioned  above,  and  wrote  to  Lenthall  the 
speaker,  and  to  ■  the  military  party  to  the  same  effect. 
In  a  treaty  with  the  Committee  of  Safety  his  commissioaers, 
who  were  to"  treat  only  on  the  basis  of  the  restoration  of 
parliament,  were  outwitted.  Monk  at  once  refused  to 
accept  the  terms  proposed,  and  marched  to  Berwick,  having 
received  an  offer  from  Fairfax  of  assistance  if  he  would 
promise  that  the  secluded  members  should  be  restored. 
Meanwhile  Lambert  had  marched  northwards  to  oppose 
his  advance. 

Monk's  action  gave  fresh  heart  to  the  adherents  of  the 
parliament.  The  old  council  of  state  met,  and  named 
him  general  of  all  the  forces ;  the  fleet  and  the  Irish 
army,  hitherto  hostile,  came  round  to  his  side,  and  so  did 
Whethara  at  Portsmouth.  Monk  now,  in  the  depth  of 
winter,  crossed  the  Tweed  at  Coldstream  and  marched  hy 
Morpeth  to-  Newcastle,  receiving  letters  on  his  way  from 
the  lord  mayor  and  corporation  of  London  urging  him  to 
declare  for  a  free  parliament.  On  his  approach  Lambert's 
army  fell  away  from  their  general,  and  r  •>  obstacle  re- 
mained on  tlie  path  to  London.  At  York,  tvhen  urged  by 
Fairfax,  he  refused  to  declare  for  the  king,  and  is  said  to 
have  caned  an  officer  who  affirmed  that  such  was  his 
design.  The  pariisiraent  now  ordered  him  to  come  to 
London.  Fleetwood's  army  wliich  occupied  the  city  was, 
however,  a  great  obstacle ;  and  it  was  not  until  the  parlia- 


k 


/m:  O  N  —  M  O  N 


753 


inent,  in.  accordance  with  his  desire,  had  arranged  for  its 
dispersion  that  he  would  enter  with  his  troops.  Even 
now  his  intentions  were  strictly  concealed;  the  spies  set 
upon  him  by  the  various  anxious  parties  were  baffled  by 
IhiB  impenetrable  reserve.     He  was  careful  to  appear  only 

bthe  servant  of  parliament,  but  when  he  was  desired  to 
ke  the  oath  of  abjuration  he  skilfully  evaded  the  request. 
The  city,  always  jealous  of  the  Bump,  now  refused  to  pay 
taxes  except  at  the  orders  of  a  free  parliament.  Monk, 
in  consequence,  was  ordered  to  march  his  troops  into  the 
city,  take  down  the  chains  and  posts,  and  unhinge  the 
gates.  He  obeyed  these  unpleasant  orders  to  the  letter  on 
10th  February,  thus  permitting  the  hatred  against  the 
Rump  to  rise  to  the  height,  while  he  showed  how  unwilling 
an  instrument  of  its  will  he  was.  On  the  11th,  however, 
ho  threw  off  the  mask,  and  wrote  to  the  Rump;  peremp- 
torily ordering  them  to  admit  the  secluded  members,  and 
to  arrange  for  the  dissolution  of  parliament  by  6th  May. 
On  2l8t  February  he  conducted  the  secluded  members 
to  their  seats.  At  the  same  time  he  refused  to  restore 
the  Lords,  and  issued  an  order  disowning  Charles  Stuart 
to  all  officers  commandiug  garrisons.  Eveiy  day  brought 
him  fresh  opportunities  for  tact  or  evasion.  His  partisans 
urged  him  to  take  the  protectorate  himself;  another  party 
pressed  upon  him  to  accomplish  the  restoration  by  the 
army  alone ;  a  body  of  his  officers  sent  him  a  declaration 
expressing  their  fears  that  his  action  would  lead  to  the 
restoration  of  monarchy ;  the  parliament  tried  to  make 
him  their  own  by  the  offer  of  Hampton  Court.  His 
trained  habits  of  dissimulation  and  evo,sion,  assisted  now 
and  again  by  downright  lying,  carried  him  triumphsntly 
through  all  these  dangers,  and  at  length  the  dissolution  of 
parliament  on  17th  March  removed  his  greatest  difficulties. 

It  was  now  that,  with  the  utmost  secrecy,  he  gave  an 
interview  for  the  first  time  to  the  king's  agent  Grenvil, 
and  by  him  sent  to  Charles  the  conditions  of  his  restoration, 
afterwards  embodied  in  the  Declaration  of  Breda.  For 
himself  at  present  he  would  accept  nothing  but  a  royal 
coiomission  as  captain-general,  which  he  carefully  kept 
to  himself.  All  parties  were  anxious  to  gain  the  credit  of 
the  now  ceVtain  restoration.  The  Presbyterians  in  parti- 
cular, fearful  of  the  king  being  restored  without  terms, 
did  their  best  to  discredit  Monk  and  to  impose  the  old  Isle 
of  Wight  conditions ;  but  in  vain.  The  new  parliament  was 
elected,  and  the  House  of  Lords  restored ;  an  insurrection 
by  Lambert,  who  had-  escaped  from  the  Tower,  was  quelled 
by  Monk's  prompt  measures,  and  on  the  25th  of  April  he 
received  the  solemn  thanks  of  both  Houses,  and  the  title  of 
captain-general  of  the  land  forces.  Even  yet  the  farce 
was  kept  up.  Monk  received  with  feigned  surprise  the 
king's  official  letter  from  Grenvil,  denied  all  knowledge 
of  its  contents,  and  handed  it  over  sealed  to  tlie  council, 
who  decided  to  defer  opening  it  imtil  the  meeting  of 
parliament  on  the  Ist  of  May. 

With  the  Restoration  the  historic  interest  of  Monk's  career 
ceases.  The  rude  soldier  of  fortune  had  played  the  game 
with  incomparable  dexterity,  and  had  won  the  stakes.  He 
was  made  gentleman  of  the  bedchamber,  knight  of  the 
Garter,  master  of  the  horse,  commander-in-chief,  and  duke  of 
Albemarle,  and  had  a  pension  of  £7000  a  year  allotted  him. 
His  utmost  desires  were  satisfied,  and  he  made  no  attempt  to 
compete  further  in  a  society  in  which  neither  he  nor  his 
vulgar  wife  could  ever  be  at  home,  and  which  he  heartily 
despised.  As  long  as  the  army  existed  of  which  he  was 
the  idol,  and  of  which  the  last  service  was  to  suppress 
Vernier's  revolt,  he  was  a  person  not  to  be  displeased. 
But  he  entirely  concurred  in  the  measure  for  disbanding 
it,  and  thenceforward  his  influence  was  small,  though  men's 
eyes  turned  naturally  to  him  in  emergency.  In  the  trial 
•f  the  regicides  he  was  on  the  side  of  moderation,  and  his 


interposition  saved  Hazelrig's  life ;  but  his  action  at  tha 
time  of  Argyll's  trial  will  always  be  regarded  as  the  most 
dishonourable  episode  in  his  career.  In  1664  he  had' 
charge  of  the  admiralty  when  James  was  in  conmiand  o{ 
the  fleet,  and  when  in  1665  London  was  deserted  on' 
account  of  the  plague.  Monk,  with  all  the  readiness  of  a 
man  accustomed  to  obey  without  thinking  of  risk,  remained 
in  charge  of  the  government  of  the  city.  Once  more,  at 
the  end  of  this  year,  he  was  called  upon  to  fight,  having  a 
joint  commission  with  Prince  Rupert  against  the  Dutch.' 
The  whole  burden  of  the  preparations  fell  upon  him.  On 
23d  April  1666  the  admirals  joined  the  fleet,  and  on  the  1st 
of  June  began  a  battle  near  Dunkirk  which  lasted  four  days, 
followed  by  another  on  23d  July,  in  which  Monk  showed 
all  his  old  coolness  and  skill,  and  a  reckless  daring  which 
had  seemed  hitherto  foreign  to  his  character.  His  last 
service  was  in  1667,  w^hen  the  Dutch  fleet  sailed  up  the 
Thames,  and  Monk,  ill  as  he  was,  hastened  to  Chatham  to 
oppose  their  further  progress.  From  that  time  he  lived 
much  in  privacy,  and  died  of  dropsy  on  the  3d  of  Deceuiber 
1669. 

Sec  the  Lives  of  Monk  by  Dr  Gumblo,  his  chaplain  (Loiidon,  IfiTI) , 
and  Dr  Skinner  (London,  1724),  auj  Guizot's  Esstvj,  which  contani 
all  necessary  information  concerning  his  life  up  to  the  Restoration. 
The  numerous  and  amusing  notices  of  him  in  the  court  of  Charles 
in  Pepys's  Diary  should  on  no  account  be  omitted.  (0.  A,) 

MONKEY.     See  Ape. 

MONMOUTH,  a  maritime  county  of  England,  is  bounded  P!«S?  TX. 
E.  by  Gloucester,  N.E.  by  Hereford,  N.W.  by  Brecknock, 
W.  and  S.W.  by  Glamorgan,  and  S.  by  the  Bristol  Channel. 
Its  greatest  length  from  north  to  south  is  about  35  miles, 
and  its  greatest  breadth  about  28  miles.  The  ai'ea  -is 
368,399  acres,  or  about  572  square  miles. 

The  surface  of  Monmouth  is  very  varied,  and  m  many 
districts  picturesque,  especially  along  the  valley  of  the 
Wye,  and  between  that  river  and  the  Usk.  In  the  west 
and  north  the  hills  rise  to  a  considerable  height,  and  this 
mountain  region  encircles  a  finely  undulating  country. 
The  highest  summits  are  Sugar  Loaf  (1954  feet),  Blorenge 
(1908),  and  Skyridd  Vawr  (1601).  Along  the  shore  on 
both  sides  of  the  Usk  are  two  extensive  tracts  of  marsh 
land,  called  the  Caldicot  and  Wentllooge  levels,  stretching 
from  Cardiff  to  Portskewett,  and  protected  from  inunda- 
tions by  strong  embankments. 

The  principal  rivers  are :  the  Wye,  which  forms  the 
eastern  boimdary  of  the  county  with  Gloucester,  and  falls 
into  the  Severn ;  the  Monnow,  which  forms  a  portion  of  its 
boundary  mth  Hereford,  and  falls  into  the  Wye  at  the 
to^vn  of  Monmouth ;  the  Usk,  which  rises  in  Brecknock, 
and  flows  southward  through  the  centre  of  the  county  to  the 
Bristol  Channel ;  the  Ebbw,  which  rises  in  the  north-west, 
and  enters  the  estuary  of  the  Usk  at  Newport ;  and  the 
Rumney,  which  rises  in  Brecknock,  and,  after  forming  the 
boundary  between  Monmouth  and  Glamorgan,  enters  the 
Bristol  Channel  a  little  to  the  east  of  Cardiff.  Salmon 
abound  especially  in  the  Wye  and  the  Usk,  and  trout  are 
plentiful  in  all  the  streams.  The  Monmouthshire  canal 
extends  from  Newport  to  Pontypool,  where  it  is  joined  by 
the  Brecknockshire  canal,  which  enters  the  county  near 
Abergavenny.  ■  The  Crumlin  canal  also  joins  it  a  little 
north  of  Newport. 

Ocology  and  Minerals. — Tlie  geological  formation  is  principally f 
Old  Red  Sandstone  and  Carboniferous, — the  Old  Red  forming  tha 
larger  and  eastern  half  of  the  count}',  from  a  line  drawn  between 
Abergavenny  and  Newport,  and  varying  in  thickness  from  betweea 
8000  «nd  10,000  feet  iin  the  north  to-about  4000  feet  in  the  south. 
In  the  centre  of  the  county  adjoining  the  Usk  there  is  an  outcrop 
of  Silurian  rocks,  extending  to  a  distance  of  about  8  miles  north 
and  south  and  4  miles  east  and  west,  ivith  a  thickness  of  1500  feet 
Towards  the  east  the  Old  Sandstone  rocks  dip  beneath  the  Moun- 
tain Limestone,  which  enters  the  county  from  the  Forest  of  Deau 
coal-field,  and  gives  its  peculiar  character  to  the  fine  scenery  along 
the  banks  of  the  Wye.     The  formation  varies  in  thickness  from- 


16—27 


754 


IZ  lu  r^  ,Tho  Carbomferous  rocka  cormectod  ,vith  the  great 
coal-field  of  South  TV  ales,  which  occupy  the  western  haU- oftho 
couuty,  mclude-(l)  the  Coal-measures,  consisting  of  "hales  and 
.rons tones,  sandstones  and  coal-beds,  of  which  fhe.e  are  about 
rt;^F;^'«%ni'  rZ^K^X^  '"*■  'W^><-total  thickness  of  the 
stiata  11,650  feet;    (2)  Millstone  Grit,   thickness  330  feet-    (3) 

Juuu  leet ,   (4)  Old  Red  Sandstone,  thickness  600  feet  :   and  (5) 
Devomau  beds,  consisting  of  red  and  brown  sandstone,  marirtc 
thickness  about  6000  feet.    The  coal-field  of  Monmouth  has  an  area 
of  about  90,000  acres.     The  beds  are  very  rich  and  e«ily  4ou'ht 
the  most  common  way  of  reaching  them  being  by  exca/attl°  T>aa- 

Tfe'numtVof™  V^'  ^^^  '°'"^?''  "^  ''5'  P"P«°dicular  sliafts. 
ine  number  of  collieries  m  operat  on  in  1881  was  I^i  and  tl,. 
Tiianhty  of  coal  obtained  5,412:840  tons.  The  ironstone  of  M  n 
mout    occurs  bo  h  in  beds  and  in  large  detached  masses,  the  yiehi 

stone  T^°  ^  *°-  ^°  ^'  ""*•  ^^'  "^  '""  "^«  ™"™o''  '^'ar  ron- 
stone.  The  iron  industry  was  prosecuted  successfully  at  Poutv- 
pool  m  the  16th  century  by  a  family  of  the  name  of  (i„nt  wl  o 
were  succeeded  by  the  Hanbuiys.  In  1740  Monmouth  contained 
anZn'v  ™'y '^".f""?"^.  «l'i--'l'  >nade  together  about  900  to  ^ 
annually  ;  but  aunng  the  piesent  century  they  have  increased  with 
grea  rapidity.  In  1S81  the  number  of  furnaces  built  was  5^ 
f.J'ifJl  "^  '"'%"'  operation  ;  the  amount  of  pig-iron  made  was 
of  kn,I°"',-  ^^  '^°'^  ^?  ''^"''"^  ''^''^y  '"  "'»  neighbourhood 
i'ertlt^Tv°dfii'-'^rr''P^  the  vaUeys  running  in  the  direction  of 
Merthyr-Tydfil  in  Glamorganshire.     The  following  were  the  Mon 

Ebbl  vT'v-'^  '"  ^^i\  =  ^^"^y^^^'^'  Pontypool,°Pontnewynydd; 
Ebbw  \ale.  Victom,  Blaenavon,  Cwmbran.  Nantyglo.  Oakfields 
Blaina.  Rhymney  and  Tredegar.  In  aU,  there  w-ei^®S8  puddling 
furnaces  and42  rolling  mills  in  operation.  'The  tinplate  man'^fachirt 
B  extensively  earned  on,  the  number  of  mills  in  the  Monmouth  and 
Gloucester  ctotnctn  1831  being  95,  the  majority  of  which  are"n 
Monmouth.     Fireclay  is  extensively  dug  ;  57. 680  tons  we'e  obtained 

Soil  and  JorimUure.—A]ong  the  sea.^horo  the  soil  is  deen  and 
oamy  and  admirably  suited  for  the  gi-owth  of  t^e  s.  Th^most 
teni'lf  rt  ^'i^'^fti^S  °"  K^d  Sanllstone,  especially  along  the 
t>e^„/  "?■  "■'''"  ''^'^^  ^  '"^'^^  »'  »  ^-^y  fiDi=  quality  In 
iMeTcult;Z^n°''Sf  "=g.'°f  .th-re  is  very  little  land  that  b  cap 
attentLr/  /?'  *''°  •""'  ^""^  generally  thin  and  peaty.  Mo  e 
attention  is  naid  to  grazing  than  to  the  i-aising  of  crops.  There  are 
a  considenbie  number  of  dairy-farms,  but  sheep-far£in/fs  much 
Eore  largelj  followed.  Of  the  5241  holdings  exisring  inlssO-tlie 
fetest  year  in  regard  to  which  there  is  information_3661  were  unde? 
60  =«=reslooi  between  50  and  300  acres,  and  only  59  above  300 
l4^nr,      ""''^°°,*°  thoagricultural  returns  for  18S2  th™  were 

cnltivatior^'oT  M^I-fT-S''  '"°"*"'^  "'  ""^  ""''  -^^.  "°d- 
cultivation.     Of  th.^     ,6,137  ac«s  were  _permanent  pasture,  and 


M  O  N  M  OUT  H 


IfiT^i  "onfff^sfs.      Of  the  35.038  acres  under  corn  croiM 

16,151  were  under  wheat,  8596  under  barley,  and  8711  under  oat? 

UDieCt    7486   ncvp<z     anA    n..,fnf.. — 1_    1-T.T-.  n.. 


14,729  rotation  grasses. 

16,151  were  under  wheat,  „^i,u  uuuer  oaney,  ana  bJV 

Turnips  occupied  7486  acres,  and  potatoes  only  1777       The  area 

under  woods  was  29.856.  and  under  irehards  3921.    The  total  num 

for  alt'lf  '",  ''''  ^'''  ''•'^'  ■■  «f  "'"^I'  «'<=  ■^"'nl^eV  us  d  solrfy 
for  agncultura    purposes  was  6449.     Of  the  44,168  cattle    16  500 

and  pi^  17,6Jl.  According  to  the  latest  return  there  were  7811 
S2  r'^oTtr'""  2»S'f,l«"^=.  ^"th  a  gross  annual  enti  of 
1  ,e,;  17  «  the  owners,  4970,  or  63  per  cent.,  possessed  less  than 
L^„  '  V  possessed  between  1000  and  2000  acres   and  15  befw«n 

^n'^oii  T  Lady  Llanover.  6312  ;  the  eMcutors  of  C.  H.  Lci^h 
10,211  ;  Lord  Tredegar,  25,229;  and  the  duko  of  Beaufort   27  299  ' 

iJni/imy,. -The  South  Wales  Railway  passes  alon^  the  coast 
and  many  branch  Hnft  cross  the  count/in  various  d"?ect  on  the 
majonty  of  them  being  connected  eithir  with  the  Gieat  ^e^teru 
Railway  or  with  the  London  and  North- Western 

yidminwtralion  and  Population.-Honmouth  comprises  six  lun- 

^8  427t  In  i^H^''^'  'T"^'^'  of  Monmouth  (611lfand  New trt 
(38,427).  In  addition  to  these  two  borouchs  there  iin  l\rt,.L,, ' 
Banitary  districts,  viz..  Abergavenny  (6^41 )  Abersyrha  n3  •oA" 
AbertUlery  0003),  Blaenavon  (9451)  Caerleon  nOOT?  rJ  '  ' 
(359-1),  Christchurch  (3114),  Ebbw-  Tab  (14  700^  'u^if'"''' 
(4177),  Panteg  (3321),  Pontj-pool  (5244)  Rhvmnev'«6f"rP^ 
(5540),  Tredegar  (18.771),  i/sk  (l470).''  W^Hl  e  SionTf 
Abergavenny,  Caerloon,  Chepstow,  Pontypool,  and  Usk.  these  tow"s 
are  all  of  modem  growth,  and  owe  their  rise  chiefly  to  the  i^-on 

Sit  '■■i~"'""v'"'^-'"'  '"='"S  P»"ly  dependeift  on  hat  of 
tiiiplate.        ho  county  returns  tivo  members  to  narlimwnt  •  LJ 

of  46,033,  constitute  the  Monmouth  disti-ict  of'boWhs  wMch 
returns  one  member.  The  county  h.as  one  court  of  quarter  sessions 
«nd  13  dm.Ied  into  twelve  petty  sessional  divisions.  It  U  witl",; 
the  diocese  of  Llandair.  and  contains  147  civil  parishes-  town^hin, 
or  places.    The  population,  which  in  ISOl  was  45.568  hkd  ii^re.T.  1 

Khom  108,262  were  males,  and  103,005  females).  '=''.':»'  (of 


^^^'sTie^rm^-'^foTthTt'^^^^^^^ 
7heL  ^  In  the  QH        ^Pfrf/u   S°™™°>'="t  distinct  from  either  of 

Sged^t^nT^  'f^^^h^^^^r.^zr^ 

Portskew^?  r'  It'tt  n'"''  -'-W-l>'d  a  palaceat  p",h-£cred 
Shtom  *'^-'f"'^  ^*'^''  *'y  colquer^ed^'i't™  ':*w^f.'h 

&rh^^^h:t.:-.J?4Sc^ 

of?yft^To?d'ro'?Te^m''r"?K''''"'''"''""'-°^'«°P»-^^^^^ 
frwentvfivi     Tl  marches   there  are  remains  of  no  less  than 

twenty-five.    The  more  interesting  and  important  are  •  Caldicot  f>° 

th^Tifh       I        ■    ^"^an  fortress  extant,  buUt  by  Fitz  Osboni  hi 

|:^™:K2k::;vi!^:?--^^fe|^S 

vahon,  and  contains  examples  of  se,eral  styles  of  Sdrite^ctoe 
Charles  I.  resided  m  it  after  the  battle  of  Naseby.  In  1646  it  wa. 
delivered  up  to  the  parliament.  " 

fifttL'i°i  ^'fo^.a^oi?  there  were  in  Monmouth  two  hospitals  and 
fifteen  other  religious  houses  ;  but  of  these  there  are  now  ^Bortant 

occupies  a  position  of  great  beauty  on  the  Wye.  The  b^Udin^ 
whicl,  IS  Early  English  to  Decorated,  is  almost  entire  with  t^e 
exception  of  the  r<^f,  and  may  be  ranked  as  among  the  fines   of  the 

TZTh  ™'"%'k  ^"S'^""^-    .°f  "'^  ^>"^''".  "-"^^  chiefly  worthy 
of  mention  are  Abergavenny,  belonging  to  a  Benedictine  priory  and 
containing  a  number  of  old  tombs  ;  Chepstow,  partly  NoS  aud 
possessing  a  nchly-nioulded  doorway;  S^Vooloschui4!  Newport 
also  Norman ;  the  Norman  church  of  St  Thomas,  Monmouth ;  ChrUt 
Church  prmcipally  N  orman  ;  Matherne,  Early  English,  with  k  tablet 
dic?hilt^l;rv!"^  of  Gwenf;  and  Usk.  formeriy  attached  to  a  Bene' 
SIoNMOOTH  (Welsh  Jfmzoy),  a  parliamentary  and  muni- 
cipal borough  of  England,  and  the  county  to\vn  of  Mon 
mouthshire,  is  pictiu-esquely  situated  at  the  confluence  of 
the  Wye  and  Monnow,  in  a  valley  almost  siu-rounded  by 
hills,  18  miles  south  of  Hereford,  and  12S  west  of  Loudon 
By  means  of  the  Wye  it  has  water  communication  with 
Bristol  and  with  Hereford,  but  the  former  trade  by  barges 
has  now  ceased.     Portions  of  the  old  walls  and  of  the  four 
gates  still  remain;  but  there  are  only  insignificant  ruins  of 
the  old  castle  in  which  Henr)-  V.  was  born,  aud  which  was 
originally  a  Saxon  fortress.     After  the  Norman  Conquest 
It  was  placed  in  the  hands  of  William  Fitz  Osborn,  whosa 
descendant,  John  lord  of  Moumouth,  rebuilt  it  on  a  more 
extensive  sca^e.     Sub.seque„tly  it  came  into  the  possession 
of  John  of  Gamit,  and  thus  became  attached  to  the  house 
of  Lancaster.     In  1C46  it  was  taken  by  the  parliamentary 


M  0  N  M  O  U  T.  Ja 


75b 


forces.  Besides  the  cliurches — the  new  church  of  St  Mary, 
completed  in  1882,  and  the'  church  of  St  Thomas,  an  Old 
Norman  structure — the  principal  public  buildings  are  the 
market -house,  the  town -hall,  and  Jones's  free  grammar 
school  in  the  Tudor  style,  which  dates  from  1614.  The 
manufactures  of  the  town  are  unimportant.  The  fine 
scenery  of  the  Wye  attracts  a  large  number  of  tourists. 

Monmonth  was  one  of  the  strongholds  of  the  Sa:;on8 ;  and  under 
the  name  of  Blestium  formed  one  of  the  stations  of  the  Romans. 
It  was  incorporated  by  Edward  VI.,  and  received  additional  privileges 
from  Queen  Mary^  James  I.,  and  Charles  II.  It  has  sent  members 
to  parliament  since  the  27th  of  Henry  VIII.,  and,  along  with  New- 
port and  Usk,  forms  the  Monmouth  district  of  boroughs.  The  area 
of  the  municipal  and  parliamentary  borough  is  4983  acres,  with  a 
population  in  1871  of  6879,  and  in  1881  of  6111. 

MONMOUTH,  a  small  manufacturing  city  of  the 
United  States,  in  Warren  county,  Illinois,  180  miles  south- 
west of  Chicago  by  the  main  line  of  the  Chicago,  Burling- 
ton, and  Quincy  Eailroad,  and  182  miles  north  of  St 
Louis,  by  the  St  Louis  division  of  the  same  railway.  The 
Iowa  Central  Eailway  passes  through  the  city.  An  opera- 
house  and  Monmouth  College  are  among  the  principal 
buildings.  The  population  increased  from  4662  in  1870 
to  5000  in  1880.     The  city  charter  dates  from  1852. 

MONMOUTH,  James,  Ditke  of  (1649-1685),  was  the 
son  of  Lucy  Walters,  "a  brown,  beautiful,  bold,  but  insipid 
creature,"  who  became  the  mistress  of  Charles  II.  during 
his  exile  at  the  Hague.  He  was  born  at  Rotterdam  on 
9th  AprU  1649.  That  Charles  was  lus  father  is  more 
than  doubtful,  for  Lucy  Walters  had  previously  lived  with 
Robert  Sidney,  brother  of  Algernon,  and  the  boy  resem- 
bled him  very  closely.  Charles,  however,  always  recog- 
nized him  as  his  son,  and  lavished  on  him  an  almost  doting 
affection.  Until  the  Restoration  he  was  placed  under  the 
care,  first  of  Lord  Crofts,  and  then  of  the  queen-dowager, 
receiving  bis  education  to  the  age  of  nine  from  Roman 
Catholics,  but  thenceforward  from  Protestant  tutors.  In 
July  1662  he  was  sent  for  by  Charles,  and  at  thirteen  was 
placed  under  the  protection  of  Lady  Castlemaine  and  in  the 
full  tide  of  the  worst  influences  of  the  court.  No  formal 
acknowledgment  of  his  relation  to  the  king  was  made 
until  his  betrothal  to  Anne  Scott,  daughter  of  the  earl  of 
Buccleuch,  and  the  wealthiest  heiress  of  Scotland,  whom 
he  married  in  1665.  During  1663  he  was  made  duke  of 
Orkney,  duke  of  Monmouth,  and  knight  of  the  Garter, 
and  received  honorary  degrees  at  both  universities.  At 
court  he  was  treated  as  a  prince  of  the  blood.  In  1665 
he  .'served  with  credit  under  the  duke  of  York  in  the  san- 
guinary naval  battle  off  Lowestoft.  A  captaincy  in  the 
Life  Guards  was  given  him,  and  in  1670,  on  the  death  of 
Monk,  he  was  made  captain-general  of  the  king's  forces. 
Offices  of  wealth  also  were  showered  upon  him,  and  he  was 
admitted  to  the  privy  council.  In  1670  Monmouth  was 
with  the  court  at  Dover,  and  it  is  affirmed  by  Eeresby 
that  the  mysterious  death  of  Charles's  sister,  the  duchess 
of  Orleans,  was  due  to  her  husband's  revenge  on  the  dis- 
covery of  her  intrigue  with  the  duke.  It  is  certain,  from 
an  entry  by  Pepys,  that  as  early  as  1^66  he  had  estab- 
lished a  character  for  vice  and  profligacy.  He  was  the 
direct  author  of  the  attack  in  December  1670  on  Sir  John 
Coventry,  and  only  a  few  months  later  received  the  royal 
pardon  for  his  share  in  the  wanton  murder  of  a  street 
watchman.  De  Gramont,  in  his  vivid  sketch  of  Mon- 
mouthj  after  describing  the  beauty  and  bodily  prowess  for 
which  he  was  celebrated,  notices  the  fatal  emptiness  and 
poverty  of  his  mind:  "Tous  les  avantages  du  corps  par- 
loient  pour  lui ;  mais  son  esprit  ne  disait  pas  nn  petit  mot 
pn  sa  faveur.  II  n'avait  de  sentunens  que  ce  qu'on  lui  en 
inspirait." 

Hitherto  Monmouth  had  been  but  the  spoiled  child  of 
a  wicked  court.    Now,  however,  by  no  act  or  will  of  his  1 


own,  he  began  to  be  a  person  politically  important.  As 
early  as  1662  the  king's  excessive  fondness  for  him  had 
caused  anxiety.  Even  then  the  fear  of  a  "difference" 
between  Monmouth  and  James,  duke  of  York,  exercised 
men's  minds ;  and  every  caress  or  promotion  kept  the  fear 
ali  ve.  Who  could  tell  but  that,  in  default  of  legitimate  issue 
from  his  queen,  Charles  might  declare  Monmouth  himself  his 
lawful  son  1  A  civil  war  would  be  the  certain  consequence. 
Soon  after  1670  the  matter  took  a  more  serious  aspect. 
The  anti-popery  spirit  was  tapidly  becoming  a  frenzy, 
and  the  succession  of  James  a  probability  and  a  terror. 
Charles  was  urged  to  legitimize  Monmouth  by  a  declara- 
tion of  his  marriage  with  Lucy  Walters.  He  returned 
answer  that,  much  as  he  loved  the  duke,  he  would  rather 
see  him  hanged  at  Tyburn  than  own  him  for  his  legitiJ 
mate  son.  Every  attempt,  however,  was  henceforth  made;! 
especially  by  Shjiftesbury,  to  accustom  people  to  this  idea.' 
He  was  taught  to  regard  himself  as  the  representative  of 
the  Protestant  interest,  and  his  position  was  emphasized  by| 
James's,second  marriage  with  the  Roman  Catholic  princess 
Mary  of  Modena.  From  this  time  his  popular  title  was  "  the 
Protestant  duke."  Charles  was  induced  to  confer  many 
prominent  employments  upon  bim,  The  influence  of  James, 
however,  was  strong  enough  to  prevent  his  obtaining  the 
lord-lieutenancy  of  Ireland ;  but  he  received  the  command 
of  the  6000  troops  who  assisted  the  French  in  the  second 
Dutch  war,  and,  though  without  any  claims  to  generalship,' 
behaved  with  courage  in  the  field.  In  1674  he  was  made 
"commander-in-chief;"  and,  in  connexion  with  this,  another 
unsuccessful  attempt,  graphically  described  in  Clarke's 
Life  of  James,  .was  made  to  gain  from  Charles  a  tacit 
admission  of  his  legitimacy.  At  Shaftesbury's  instance 
he  was  placed  in  command  of  the  army  employed  in  1676 
against  the  Scottish  Covenanters,  and  was  present  at  Both- 
well  Bridge  (22d  June  1679).  He  was  also,  at  the  king's 
request,  elected  chancellor  of  the  university  of  Cambridge. 
In  1678,  when  Charles  was  driven  into  war  vrith  Louis, 
Monmouth  took  the  command  of  the  English  contingent, 
and  again  gained  credit  for  personal  courage  at  the  battle 
of  St  Denis.  On  his  return  to  London  England  was  in 
the  throes  of  the  popish  terror.  The  idea  of  securing  the 
Protestant  succession  by  legitimizing  Monmouth  again  took 
shape  and  was  eagerly  pressed  on  by  Shaftesbury ;  at  the 
time  it  seemed  possible  that  success  would  wait  oB  the 
audacity. 

The  Pensionary  parliament  was  dissolved  in  January 
1678-79,  and  was  succeeded  by  one  still  more  determined 
in  its  anti-popery  spirit.  To  avoid  the  storm,  and  to  save, 
if  possible,  his  brother's  interests,  Charles  instructed  him 
to  leave  the  country.  James  retired  to  Brussels,  the  king 
having  previously  signed  a  declaration  that  he  "never 
was  married,  nor  gave  contract  to  any  woman  whatsoever 
but  to  my  wife  Queen  Catheriiie."  In  spite  of  this,  Mon- 
mouth might  naturally  now  nourish  ambitious  views. 
EQs  rival  was  off  the  stage;  Shaftesbury,  his  chief  supporter, 
was  president  of  the  remodelled  privy  council ;  and  he 
himself  was  the  favourite  of  the  city.  In  the  summer  of 
1679  the.  king  suddenly  fell  iU,  and  the  dangers  of  a  dis- 
puted succession  became  terrilily  apparent.  The  party 
opposed  to  Monmouth,  or  rather  to  Shaftesbury,  easily 
prevailed  upon  Charles  to  consent  to  his  brother's  tem- 
porary return,  'When,  after  the  king's  recovery,  James 
went  back  to  Brussels,  he  received  a  promise  that  Moit 
mouth  too  should  be  removed  from  favour  and  ordered 
to  leave  the  country.  Accordingly,  in  September  1679, 
the  latter  repaired  to  Utrecht,  while  shortly  afterwards 
James's  friends  so  far  gained  ground  as  to  obtain  for  In"™ 
permission  to  reside  at  Edinburgh  in.?tead  of  at  Bnissels. 
Within  two  months  of  his  arrival  at  Utrecht,  Monmouth 
secretly  retm-ned  to  Ensland.  aTrivLig  ia  London  on  27th 


756 


MONMOUTH 


November.  iSliaftesbury  bad  assiduously  Kept  aave  tbe 
anti-popery  agitation,  and  Monmouth,  as  the  champion  of 
Protestantism,  was  received  with  every  sign  of  popular 
delight.  The  king  appeared  to  bo  greatly  incensed, 
deprived  him  of  all  his  offices,  and  ordered  him  to  leave 
the  kingdom  at  once.  This  he  refused  to  do,  and  the  only 
notice  taken  of  the  disobedience  was  that  Charles  forbade 
him  to  appear  at  court. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  the  Appeal  from  the  Country  to 
the  City,  written  by  Ferguson,  was  published,  in  which 
the  legitimacy  was  tacitly  given  up,  and  in  which  it  was 
urged  that  "  he  that  hath  the  worst  title  will  make  the 
best  king."  Now  it  was  too  that  the  exclusionists,  who, 
in  the  absence  of  parliament,  were  deprived  of  their  best 
basis  for  agitation,  developed  the  system  of  petitioning. 
So-  promptly  and  successfiilly  was  this  answered  by  the 
"  abhorrers  "  that  Charles,  feeling  the  ground  safer  under 
him,  recalled  James  to  London, — a  step  immediately  fol- 
lowed by  the  resignation  of  the  chief  Whigs  in  the  councU. 
Once  more,  however,  a  desperate  attempt  was  made,  by 
the  fable  of  the  "black  box,"  to  establish  Monmouth's 
claims ;  and  once  more  these  claims  were  met  by  Charles's 
public  declarations  in  the  Gazette  that  he  had  never  been 
married  but  to  the  queen.  Still  acting  under  Shaftesbury's 
advice,  Monmouth  now  went  upon  the  first  of  his  progresses 
in  the  west  of  England,  visiting  the  chief  members  of  the 
country  party,  and  gaining  by  his  open  and  engaging 
manner  much  popularity  among  tbe  people.  •  In  August 
1680  James  returned  to  Edinbiu-gh,  his  right  to  the  suc- 
cession being  again  formally  acknowledged  by  Charles. 
Monmouth  at  once  threw  himself  more  vehemently  than 
ever  into  the  plans  of  the  exclusionists.  He  sp(»ke  and 
voted  for  exclusion  in  the  House  of  Lords,  and  used  lan- 
guage not  likely  to  be  forgotten  by  James  when  an  oppor- 
tunity should  come  for  resenting  it.  He  was  ostenta- 
tiously feasted  by  the  city,  the  stronghold  of  Shaftesbury's 
influence  ;  and  it  was  observed  as  he  drove  to  dinner  that 
the  mark  of  illegitimacy  had  been  removed  from  the  arms 
on  his  coach. 

The  year  1G81  seemed  likely  to  witness  another  civil 
war.  'The  parliament  finished  a  session  of  hysterical  pas- 
sion by  passing  a  series  of  resolutions  of  extreme  violence, 
of  which  one  was  that  Monmouth  should  be  restored  to 
all  his  offices  and  commands;  and  when  Charles  summoned 
a  fresh  parliament  to  meet  at  Oxford  the  leaders  of  the 
exclusionists  went  thither  with  troops  of  armed  men. 
Not  until  the  dissolution  of  this  last  parliament  on 
27th  March  1681  did  the  weakness  of  Monmouth's  cause 
appear.  In  a  moment  the  ground  was  cut  from  under 
the  feet  of  his  supporters ;  their  basis  for  agitation  was 
gone ;  pamphlets  and  broadsheets  could  ill  supply  the 
place  of  a  determined  and  unscrupulous  majority  of  the 
House  of  Commons.  The  deep-seated  respect  for  legitimate 
descent  asserted  itself,  and  a  great  reaction  took  place. 
In  November  Dryden  published  Absalom  and  Achitophel. 
Shaftesbury  was  attacked,  but  was  saved  for  the  time  by  a 
f avouring  j  ury.  Monmouth  himself  did  not  escape  insult 
in  the  street  and  from  the  pulpit.  He  thought  it  wise  to 
try  to  make  his  peace  with  the  king,  but  he  did  so  in 
terms  which  incensed  Charles  the  more.  He  was  forbidden 
to  hold  communication  with  the  court ;  and,  when  he  went 
in  September  1682  on  a  second  progress  through  the 
western  and  north-western  counties,  his  proceedings  were 
narrowly  watched,  and  he  was  at  length  arrested  at  Staf- 
ford. Severity  and  extreme  lenity  were  strangely  mingled 
in  the  treatment  he  received.  He  was  released  on  bail, 
and  in  February  1683,  after  the  flight  and  death  of  Shaftes- 
biuy,  he  openly  broke  the  implied  conditions  of  his  bail 
by  paying  a  third  visit  to  Chichester  with  Lord  Grey  and 
other?  on  pretence  of  a  hunting  expedition. 


It  is  probable  that  Monmouth  never  went  so  far  as  W 
think  of  armed  rebellion ;  but  there  is  little  doubt  that  ha 
had  talked  over  schemes  likely  to  lead  to  this,  and  that 
Shaftesbury  had  gone  further  still.  The  Rye  House  plot 
gave  an  excuse  for  arresting  the  Whig  leaders ;  Eussell 
and  Sidney  were  judicially  murdered ;  Monmouth  retired 
to  Toddington  in  Bedfordshire,  and  was  left  untouched. 
Court  intrigue  favouring  him,  he  succeeded,  by  the  betrayal 
of  his  comrades  and  by  two  submissive  letters,  in  reconciling 
himself  with  the  help  of  Halifax  both  to  the  king  and  to 
James,  though  he  had  the  humiliation  of  seeing  his  con- 
fessions aL-d  declarations  of  penitence  published  at  length 
in  the  Ga,:ette.  His  character  for  pettishness  and  folly 
was  now  amply  illustrated.  He  denied  that  he  had  given 
evidence ;  he  then  wrote  a  recantation  of  the  denial.  He 
managed  by  importunity  to  get  from  the  king  the  paper 
of  recantation ;  and  lastly,  by  the  advice  of  his  wife,  he 
ofi"ered  again  to  sign  the  paper  which  he  had  withdrawn. 
Charles  heartily  despised  him,  and  yet  appears  to  have 
retained  affection  for  him.  His  partial  return  to  favour 
raised  the  hopes  of  his  partisans ;  to  check  these,  Algernon 
Sidney  wiis  executed.  Monmouth  was  now  subpoenaed  to 
give  evidence  at  the  trial  of  young  Hampden.  To  escape 
from  the  difficulties  thus  opened  before  him  he  fled  to 
Holland,  probably  with  Charles's  connivance,  and  though 
he  once  more,  in  November  1684,  visited  England,  it  is 
doubtful  whether  he  ever  again  saw  the  king.  From  that 
time  till  the  king's  death  he  lived  with  Henrietta  Went- 
worth,  his  mistress,  in  Holland  and  at  Brussels. 

The  quiet  accession  of  James  II.  soon  brought  Monmouth 
to  the  crisis  of  his  fate.  Though  at  first  desirous  of  retire- 
ment, his  character  was  too  weak  to  withstand  the  urgency 
of  more  determined  men.  Within  two  months  of  Charles's 
death  he  had  yielded  to  the  impetuosity  of  Argyll  and 
others  of  the  exiles,  and  to  vague  invitations  from  England. 
It  is  curious,  as  showing  the  light  in  which  his  claims 
were  viewed  by  his  fellow-conspirators,  that  one  of  the 
terms  of  the  compact  between  them  was  that,  though 
Monmouth  should  lead  the  expedition,  he  should  not  assume 
the  title  of  king  without  their  consent,  and  shoidd,  it  the 
rebellion  were  successful,  resign  it  and  accept  whatever 
rank  the  nation  might  ofl'er.  No"  as  always,  he  was  but 
a  puppet  in  other  men's  hands. 

On  the  2d  of  May  Argyll  sailed  witn  tnree  snips  to  raiet 
the  west  of  Scotland ;  and  three  weeks  later,  with  a  following 
of  only  eighty-two  persons,  of  whom  Lord  Grey,  Fletcher 
of  Saltoun,  Wade,  and  Ferguson,  the  author  of  the  Appeal 
from  the  Country  to  tlie  City,  were  the  chief,  Monmouth  him- 
self set  out  for  the  west  of  England,  where,  as  the  strong- 
hold of  Protestant  dissent  and  as  the  scene  of  his  former  pro- 
gresses, he  could  alone  hope  for  immediate  support.  Even 
here,  however,  there  was  no  movement ;  and  wlien  on  11th 
June  Monmouth's  three  ships,  having  eluded  the  royal  fleet, 
arrived  ofl'  Lyme  Kcgis,  he  landed  amid  the  curiosity  rather 
than  the  sympathy  of  the  inhabitants.  In  the  market-place 
his  "declaration,"  drawn  up  by  Ferguson,  was  read  aloud. 
In  this  document  James  was  painted  in  the  blacltcst  colours. 
Not  only  was  he  declared  to  be  the  murderer  c{  Essex,  but 
he  was  directly  charged  with  having  poisoned  Charles  to 
obtain  his  crown.  Monmouth  soon  collected  an  undisci- 
plined body  of  some  1500  men,  with  whom  he  seized 
Axminster,  and  entered  Taunton.  Meanwhile  the  parlia- 
ment had  declared  it  treason  to  assert  Monmouth's  legiti- 
macy, or  his  title  to  the  crown ;  a  reward  of  £5000  was 
oflfered  for  him  dead  or  alive,  and  an  act  of  attainder  was 
passed  in  unusual  haste.  Troops  had  been  hurriedly  sent 
to  meet  him,  and  when  he  reached  Bridgwater  Albemarle 
was  already  in  his  rear.  From  Bridgwater  tbe  army 
marched  through  Glastonbury  to  attack  Bristol  into  whicl* 
Lord  Feversham.  had  hastily  thrown  a  regiment  of  foot. 


M  O  N  —  M  O  K 


757 


rgnards.  The  attempt,  however,  miscarried;  and,  after 
sammonlng  Bath  in  vain,  Monmouth,  with  a  disordered 
force,  began  hia  retrograde  march  through  Philips-Norton 
and  Frome,  continually  harassed  by  Feversham's  soldiers. 
At  the  latter  place  he  heard  of  Argyll's  total  rout  in  the 
western  Highlands.  He  was  now  anxious  to  give  up  the 
enterprise,  but  was  overruled  by  Grey,  Wade,  and  others. 
On  the  3d  of  July  he  reached  Bridgwater  again,  with  an 
army  little  better  than  a  rabble,  living  at  free  quarters 
and  behaving  with  reckless  violence.  On  Sunday  the  5th 
Feversham  entered  Sedgemoor  in  pursuit ;  Monmouth  the 
same  night  attempted  a  surprise,  but  his  troops  were  hope- 
lessly routed.  He  himself,  with  Grey  and  a  few  others, 
fled  over  the  Mendip  Hills  to  the  New  Forest,  hoping  to 
reach  the  coast  and  escape  by  sea.  The  whole  country, 
however,  was  on  the  alert,  and  at  midnight  on  the  8th, 
within  a  month  of  their  landing,  James  heard  that  the 
revolt,  desperate  from  the  first,  was  over,  and  that  his  rival 
had  been  captured  close  to  Eingwood,  in  Hampshire. 

The  poor  strain  in  Monmouth's  character  was  now 
shown.  On  the  day  of  his  capture  he  wrote  to  James  in 
terms  of  the  most  unmanly  contrition,  ascribing  his  wrong- 
doings to  the  action  of  others,  and  imploring  an  interview. 
On  the  13th  th&  prisoners  reached  the  Tower,  and  on 
the  next  day  Monmouth  was  allowed  to  see  James.  The 
accounts  of  this  interview  are  difficult  to  reconcile  in  some 
points,  but  all  agree  that  Monmouth's  behaviour  was  un- 
manly in  the  extreme.  No  mercy  was  shown  him,  nor  did 
he  in  the  least  deserve  mercy ;  he  had  wantonly  attacked 
the  peace  of  the  country,  and  had  cruelly  libelled  James. 
The  king  had  not,  even  in  his  own  mind,  any  family  tie  to 
restrain  him  from  exercising  just  severity,  for  he  had  never 
believed  Monmouth  to  be  the  son  of  any  one  but  Robert 
Sidney.  Two  painful  interviews  followed  with  the  wife 
for  whom  he  bore  no  love,  and  who  for  him  could  feel  no 
respect ;  another  imploring  letter  was  sent  to  the  king,  and 
abject  protestations  and  beseechings  were  made  to  all  whom 
he  saw.  He  offered,  as  the  last  hope,  to  become  a  Roman 
Catholic,  and  this  might  possibly  have  proved  successful, 
but  the  priests  sent  by  James  to  ascertain  the  sincerity  of 
his  "  conversion  "  declared  that  he  cared  only  for  his  life 
and  not  for  his  soul. 

He  met  his  death  on  the  scaffold  with  calmness  and 
dignity.  In  the  paper  which  he  left  signed,  and  to  which 
ho  referred  in  answer  to  the  questions  wherewith  the 
busy  bishops  plied  him,  he  expressed  his  sorrow  for  having 
assumed  the  royal  style,  and  at  the  last  moment  confessed 
that  Charles  had  denied  to  him  privately,  as  he  had  publicly, 
that  he  was  evoi'  married  to  Lucy  AValters.  He  died  at  the 
age  of  thirty-six,  on  the  15th  of  July  1685.  "  Thus  ended," 
says  Evelyn,  "this  quondam  duke,  darling  of  his  father 
and  the  ladies,  being  extremely  handsome  and  adroit ;  an 
excellent  souldier  and  dancer,  a  favourite  of  the  people,  of 
an  easy  nature,  debauched  by  lusts,  seduced  by  crafty 
knaves,  who  would  have  set  him  up  only  to  make  a  pro- 
perty, and  took  the  opportunity  of  the  king  being  of 
another  religion  to  gather  a  party  of  discontented  men. 
He  failed  and  perished." 

Ai'.thoi-itics  for  Monmouth's  career  are,  besides  the  known  modem 
liistories,  Roberts's  Life  (1844),  Evelyn's  and  Pepys's  Diaries,  Old- 
mixon's  History  (1724),  James  II. 's  Memoirs,  Clarice's  Life  of  Jama, 
Kercsby's  Memoirs,  Sidney's  Diasi^  (1843),  Scott's  notes  to  Absalom 
a^ul  Adiitopltel,  and  The  Heroic  Life,  ic.  (1633).  For  the  rebellion. 
Lord  Grey's  Secret  History  should  be  consulted.  (0.  A.) 

itONMOUTH,  Geoffrey  of.  See  Geoffeey  of  Mon- 
j:(.>rxH. 

ilONOPHYSlTES.  See  Eutyches  and  Jacobite 
Chcrch. 

MONOPOLI,  a  city  of  Italy,  in  the  province  of  Bari,  is 
situated  on  the  coast  of  the  Adriatic,  25  miles  by  rail 
south-east  of  Bari.     It  u  a  bishop's  see,  is  surrounded  by 


ancient  walls,  and  possesses  a  castle  buQt  by  Charles  T.  in 
1552,  a  cathedral,  and  a  hospital  dating  from  1368.  The 
harboxir  is  neither  large  nor  well  protected,  but  a  certain 
amount  of  trade  is  carried  on  in  the  export  of  local  pro- 
ducts. The  population  was  about  12,000  in  the  17th 
century;  12,377  in  1861;  and  13,000  in  1871,  that  of 
the  commune  being  20,918.  Monopoli  probably  grew  up 
after  the  destruction  of  Egnatia  (5th  century),  the  ruins 
of  which  lie  a  few  miles  to  the  south. 

MONOPOLY  (//.ovoTraXla,  exclusive  sale).  Though  still 
used  in  the  sense  of  the  oiuginal  Greek,  the  term  is  more 
accurately  applied  only  to  grants  from  the  crown  or  from 
parliament,  the  private  act  of  an  individual  whereby  he 
obtains  control  over  the  supply  of  any  particular  article 
being  properly  defined  as  "  engrossing."  It  was  from  the 
practice  of  the  sovereign  granting  to  a  favourite,  or  as  a 
reward  for  good  service,  a  monopoly  in  the  sale  or  manu- 
facture of  some  particular  class  of  goods  that  the  system 
of  prote(i*ins  inventions  arose,  and  this  fact  lends  additional 
interest  to  the  history  of  monopolies  (see  Patents).  When 
the  practice  of  making  such  grants  first  arose  it  does  not 
appear  easy  to  say.  Sir  Edward  Coke  laid  it  down  that 
by  the  ancient  common  law  the  king  could  grant  to  an 
inventor,  or  to  the  importer  of  an  invention  from  abroad,  a 
temporary  monopoly  in  his  invention,  but  that  grants  in 
restraint  of  trade  were  illegal.  Such,  too,  was  the  law  laid 
down  in  the  first  recorded  case,  Darcy  v.  Allin  (the  case  of 
monopolies,  1602),  and  this  decision  was  never  overruled, 
though  the  law  was  frequently  evaded.  The  patent  rolls 
of  the  Plantagenets  show  fev.-  instances  of  grants  of  mono- 
polies (the  earliest  known  is  temp.  Edw.  III.),  and  we 
come  down  to  the  reign  of  Henry  VIII.  before  we  find 
much  evidence  of  this  exercise  of  the  prerogative  in  the 
case  of  either  new  inventions  or  known  articles  of  trade. 
Elizabeth,  as  is  well  known,  granted  patents  of  monopoly 
so  freely  that  the  practice  became  a  grave  abuse,  and  on 
several  occasions  gave  rise  to  serious  complaints  in  the 
House  of  Commons.  Lists  prepared  at  the  time  show  that 
many  of  the  commonest  necessaries  of  life  were  the  subjects 
of  monopolies,  by  which  their  price  was  grievously  enhanced. 
That  the  queen  did  not  assume  the  right  of  making  these 
grants  entirely  at  her  pleasure  is  shown,  not  only  by  her 
own  statements  in  answer  to  addresses  from  the  House,  but 
by  the  fact  that  the  preambles  to  the  instruments'  convey- 
ing the  grants  always  set  forth  some  public  benefit  to  bo 
derived  from  their  action.  Thus  a  grant  of  a  monopoly 
to  sell  playing-cards  is  made,  because  "  divers  subjects  of 
ablo  bodies,  which  might  go  to  plough,  did  employ  them- 
selves in  the  art  of  making  of  cards";  and  one  for  ths  sale 
of  starch  is  justified  on  the  ground  that  it  would  prevent 
wheat  being  wasted  for  the  purpose.  Accounts  of  the 
angry  debates  in  1565  and  1601  are  given  in  Hume  and 
elsewhere.  The  former  debate  produced  a  promise  from 
the  queen  that  she  would  be  careful  in  exercising  her 
privileges ;  the  latter  a  proclamation  which,  received  with 
great  joy  by  the  House,  really  had  but  little  effect  in 
stopping  the  abuses  complained  of.  A  few  grants  were 
cancelled,  others  limited,  and  others  again  left  to  the  action 
of  the  ordinary  law  courts  (instead  of  the  privy  council). 
In  speaking  of  the  results  of  the  proclamation,  previous 
writers  seem  to  have  been  misled  by  the  promises  made  in 
the  queen's  speech,  promises  by  no  means  carried  out  in 
the  text  of  the  document  itself,  a  copy  of  which  still  exists 
in  the  British  Museum. 

In  the  first  parliament  of  James  I.  a  "committee  of 
grievances  "  was  appointed,  of  which  Sir  Edward  Coke  was 
chairman.  Numerous  monopoly  patents  were  brought  up 
before  them,  and  were  cancelled.  Many  more,  however, 
were  granted  by  the  king,  and  there  grew  up  a  race  of 
"  pi'.rveyors,"  who  made,use  of  the  privileges  granted  them 


758 


I\C  O  N  — M  O  N 


under  the  great  seal  for  various  purposeS'ot  extortion.  One 
oi  the  most  notorious  of  these  was  Sir  Giles  Mompesson, 
who  fied  the  r.oimtry  to  avoid  trial  in  1621.  •  After  the 
intro.U-  -ion  of  several  bills,  and  several  attempts  by  James 
to  cu'jipromise  the  matter  by  orders  in  council  and 
promises,  the  Statute  of  Monopolies  was  passed  in  1623. 
This  made  all  monopolies  illegal,  except  such  as  might  be 
granted  by  parliament,  or  were  in  respect  of  new  manu- 
factures or  inventions.  Upon  this  excepting  clause  is  built 
np  the  entire  English  system  of  letters  patent  for  inven- 
tions, the  statute  itself  (amended  by  later  Acts)  being  still 
in  force.  The  Act  was  strictly  enforced,  and  by  its  aid  the 
evil  system  of  monopolies  was  eventually  abolished.  This 
result  was  not  indeed  immediately  achieved,  for  (jven  during 
the  Protectorate  cases  of  monopoly  patents  were  brought 
!np,  and  the  patents  cancelled  as  grievances.  Parliament 
has,  of  course,  never  exercised  its  power  of  granting  to  any 
individual  exclusive  pi-ivileges  of  dealing  in  any  articles  of 
[trade,  such  as  the  privileges  of  the  Elizabethan  monopolists ; 
but  the  licences  required  to  be  taken  out  by  dealers  in 
wine,  spirits,  tobacco,  itc,  are  lineal  descendants  of  the  old 
monopoly  grants,  while  the  quasi-monopolies  enjoyed  by 
railways,  canals,  gas  and  water  companies,  &c.,  under  Acts 
of  Parliament,  are  also  representative  of  the  ancient  practice. 
MONOTHELITES  (iMvoOc\rjrai,  monothelitx)  was  the 
name  given  to  those  who,  in  the  7  th  century,  while  other- 
wise orthodox,  fell  into  the  heresy  of  maintaining  that 
Cihrist  had  only  one  will  The  monothelite  controversy' 
had  its  origin  in  the  efforts  of  the  emperor  Heraclius  to 
,win  back  for  the  church  and  the  empire  the  excommuni- 
cated and  persecuted  Monophysites  or  Eutychians  of  Egypt 
and  Syria,  It  seems  to  have  been  while  in  Armenia  in 
622  .that,  in  an  interview  with  Paul,  the  head  of  the 
Severians  (Monophysites)  there,  he  first  broached  the  doc- 
trine of  the  /ii'a  (vkpyna,  of  Christ,  i.e.,  the  doctrine  that 
the  divine  and  human  natiu-es,  while  quite  distinct  in  His 
one  person,  had  but  one  activity  and  operation.!  ^t  a 
somewhat  later  date  he  wrote  to  Arcadius  of  Cyprus,  com- 
manding that  "  two  energies  "  should  not  be  spoken  of ; 
and  in  626,  while  in  Lazistan  (Colchis),  he  had  a  meeting 
with  the  metropolitan,  Cyrus  of  Phasis,  during  which  this 
command  was  discussed,  and  Cjtus  was  at  last  bidden  seek 
further  instniclion  ca  the  subject  from  Sergius,  patriarch 
of  Constantinople,  a  strong  upholder  of  the  /ii'a  Ivkpyua, 
and  the  emperor's  counsellor  with  regard  to  it.  So  well 
did  he  profit  by  the  teaching  he  received  in  this  quajter 
that,  in  630  or  631,  Cyrus  was  appointed  to  the  vacant 
patriarchate  of  Aloxandria,  and  in  633  succeeded  in  recon- 
ciling the  Siverians  of  his  province  on  the  basis  of  /ii'a 
diavSpiKT)  ivipycia.  (one  divine-humau  energy).  He  was, 
however,  opposed  by  Sophronius,  a  monk  from  Palestine, 
who,  after  vainly  appealing  to  Cyrus,  actually  went  to  Con- 
Btantinoplo  to  remonstrate  with  Sergius  himself.  Shortly 
afterwards  Sergius  -wTote  to  Pope  Honorius,  and  received 
a  friendly  reply.  Sophronius,  however,  who  meanwhile 
had  been  made  patriarch  of  Jerusalem  (034),  refused  to  be 
silenced,  and  in  his  Eputola  St/nodi.ca  strongly  insisted  on 
the  "  two  energies."  So  intense  did  the  controversy  now 
ibecome  that  at  last,  towards  the  end  of  638,  Heraclius 
'published  his  Edhcsis,  or  Exposition  of  the  Faith,  which 
prohibited  the  use  of  the  phrase  "  one  energy,"  because  of 
its  disquieting  effects  on  some  minds,  as  seeming  to  militate 
against  tlio  doctrine  of  the  two  natures ;  while,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  expression  "  two  energies"  was  interdicted  becau-so 


'  •  Accoiding  to  some  church  historians,  it  was  Paul  who  iutroduced 
Iho  doctrino  ;  but  this  statement  seems  to  rest  on  a  misinterpretation 
otthe  authoiitica.  Sec  Hefele,  Concilicngeseh. ,  iii.  p.  124  sq.  (1877), 
who  also  traces  the'  previous  history  of  tho  CTprcssions  ixia.  ii'ipytia, 
erarSfiicfi  (pcfr/fia,  especially  as  fossd  Inthe  .writings  of  the  Pseudo- 
J>in;iy-:ns  Arcopa^ta. 


it  seemed  to  imply  that  Christ  had  two  wills.  That  Christ 
had  but  one  will  was  declared  to  be  the  only  orthodox 
doctrine,  and  all  the  faithful  were  enjoined  to  hold  and 
teach  it  without  addition  or  deduction.  The  document 
was  not  acceptable,  however,  to  Popes  Severinus  and  John 
IV.,  the  immediate  successors  of  Honorius ;  and  Maximus, 
the  comcssor,  succeeded  in  stirring  up  such  violent  opposi- 
tion in  North  Africa  and  Italy  that,  in  648,  Constans  EL 
judged  it  expedient  to  withdraw  his  grandfather's  offen.«iv9 
edict,  and  to  siibstitute  for  it  his  own  Typus  (rvn-cy;  Ttpt 
TTtoTtw;),  forbidding  all  discussion  of  the  questions  of  the 
duality  or  singleness  of  either  the  energy  or  the  will  of 
Christ.  Tlie  scheme  of  doctrine  of  the  first  four  general 
councils,  in  all  its  vagueness  as  to  these  points,  was  to  be 
maintained ;  so  far  as  the  controversy  had  gone,  the  dis- 
putants on  either  side  were  to  be  held  free  from  censure, 
but  to  resume  it  would  involve  penal  consequences.  The 
reply  of  the  Western  Church  was  promptly  given  in  the 
unambiguously  dyothelite  decrees  of  the  Lateran  synod 
held  by  Martin  I.  in  649 ;  but  the  cruel  persecutions  to 
which  both  Martin  and  Maximus  were  exposed,  and  finally 
succumbed,  secured  for  the  imperial  Typvs  the  assent  at 
least  of  silence.  With  the  accession  of  Constantine  Pogo- 
natus  in  668  the  controversy  once  more  revived,  and  the 
new  emperor  resolved  to  summon  a  genei-al  counciL  It 
met  at  Constantinople  in  680,  having  been  preceded  in  679 
by  a  brilliant  synod  under  Pope  Agatho  at  Rome,  where  it 
had  been  agreed  to  depart  in  nothing  from  the  decrees  of 
the  Lateran  sjmod.  At  Constantinople  the  condemnation 
of  the  monothelite  heresy  was  explicit  and  complete.  Pope 
Honorius  being  anathematized  by  name  along  with  the 
others  who  had  supported  it.  Beyond  the  limits  of  the 
empire,  monothelism  survived  for  some  centuries  iu  Lebanon 
among  the  Maeonites  (?.«'.),  w-ho  did  not  abjure  their 
heresies  until  1182. 

See  the  church  historians,  and  especially  Hefele  {op.  cit.\  wUo9» 
ounous  partisanship  can  only  slightly  affect  the  reader's  apprecia- 
tion of  his  full  and  accurate  leaining. 

MONEEALE,  a  contraction  of  "  monte-reale,"  vas  so 
called  from  a  jmlace  built  there  by  the  Norman  Roger  L, 
king  of  Sicily.  It  is  now  a  town  of  about  16,300  inhabit- 
ants, situated  5  miles  inland  from  Palermo,  on  the  slope 
of  Mount  Caputo  overlooking  the  beautiful  and  very  fer- 
tile valley  called  "  La  Concha  d'Oro  "  (the  Golden  Shell), 
famed  for  its  orange,  ohve,  and  almond  trees,  the  produce 
of  which  is  exported  in  large  quantities.  The  town,  which 
for  long  was  a  mere  village,  owed  its  origin  to  the  found- 
ing of  a  large  Benedictine  monastery,  ivith  its  church,  the 
seat  of  the  metropolitan  archbishop  of  Sicily."  This,  the 
greatest  of  all  the  monuments  of  the  wealth  and  artistic 
taste  of  the  Norman  kings  in  northern  Sicily,  who  in  1072 
expelled  the  Mohammedans  and  established  themselves 
there  wth  Palermo  as  their  capital,  was  begun  about  1170 
by  William  II.,  and  in  1182  the  chui'ch,  dedicated  to  tho 
Assumption  of  the  Virgin  Mary,  was,  by  a  buU  of  Pope 
Lucius  III.,  elevated  to  the  rank  of  a  metropolitan  cathe- 
dral. It  was,  and  is  even  now,  one  of  the  most  magni- 
ficent buildings  in  the  world,  and  Pope  Lucius  in  no  way 
exaggerated  its  splendour  when  he  said  in  his  bull,  "ut 
simde  opus  per  aliqucm  regem  factum  non  fuerit  a  diebua 
antiquis." 

The  archiepiscopal  palace  and  monastic  buildings  on  the 
south  side  were  of  gi-eat  size  and  magnificence,  and  were 
surrounded  by  a  massive  precinct  w  all,  crowned  at  intervals 
by  twelve  towera.  This  has  been  mostly  rebuilt,  and  but 
little  now  remains  except  ruins  of  some  of  the  towers,  a 
great  part  of  the  monlu'  dormitory  and  frater,  and  the  very 
splendid  cloister,  completed  about  1 200.    This  latter  is  well 


-  An' earlier  cTiurch  "appears  to  have  existed  at  Monreale  since  tie 
6th  centurv;  but  no  traces  of  it  now  remain. 


M  0  N  R  ,E  A  L  ill 


759 


preserved,  and  is  one  of  the  finest  cloisters  both  for  size 
and  beauty  of  detail  that  now  exists  anjmhere.  It  is  about 
170  feet  square,  with  pointed  arches  covered  mth  marble 
inlay,  supported  on  pairs  of  columns  ir  white  marble^  2X6 


^HBiHHH^' '  <BfBBHHIIH 

■ 

Z^Mi              N  A  R  T  H  E  X  .          K|„wipH 

A  T   R   1  U    M. 

i 

■Plan  of  the  cathedral  of  Monreale,  as  built  in  the  12th  century, 
omitting  later  additions. 


^,  1.  Stairs  to  towers,  now  altered. 

2.  Cliapel  under  the  south  amho. 

S.  Staii-s  to  ambo. 

4.  Holy-w.ileT  stoup. 
6,  6.  '*  Pulpitura  "  or  choir-screen, 
!  .  now  destroyed. 

.0,  fl.  Screens    behind    stalls,    now 
,  destroyed. 

,7,  7.  Stalls,  now  destroyed- 

8.  King's  throne. 

9.  Archbishop's  throne. 
10,  10.  Sanctuary  screen. 


11.  High  altar  and  baldacchino. 

12.  Altar  in  northern  apse. 

13.  Altar  in  southern  apse. 

14.  Altar  at  tomb  of  William  I. 

15.  Archbishop's  throne. 
16,  16.  Seats  for  clergy. 

17.  Door  to  great  cloister. 

18.  Door  to  chapter  house. 

19.  Door  to  sacristy. 

20,  20.  Doors  to  royal  palace. 

21.  Bronze  door  by'Barisanos. 

22.  Bronze  door  by  llouauuua. 


in  all,  which  are  sumptuously  decorated  either  by  rich  sur- 
face carving  or  by  bands  of  patterns  in  gold,  silver,  and 
colours,  made  of  glass  tesserae,  arranged  either  spirally  or 
■vertically  from  end  to  end  of  each  shaft.  The  marble  caps 
are  each  richly  carved  with  figures  and  foliage  executed 
with  great  skill  and  wonderful,  fertility  of  invention — no 
two  being  alike.    At  one  angle,  a  square  pillared  projection 


contains  the  marble  fountain  oi  monks'  laratory,  evidently 
the  work  of  Moslem  sculptors. 

The  chief  feature  of  the  place — the  cliurcli — like  the  main 
cloister,  ■is  fortunately  well  preserved.  .^Jn  plan  it  is 'a' 
curious  niLxtme  of  Eastern  and  Western  arraiiijenicnt  (."c? 
fig.).  The  nave  is  like  an  Italian  basilica,  while  the  larj.t 
triple-apsed  choir  is  hke  one  of  the  early  tlu'ec-aiwciV 
churches,  of  which  so  many  examples  still  exist  in  S'^yvia 
and  other  Eastern  comitries  (see  D'e  Vogue,  Si/n'e  Cm- 
irale).  It  is,  in  fact,  like  two  quite  different  churches  put 
together  end'wise.  The  basilican  nave  is  wide,  with  narrow 
aisles.  Monolithic  columns  of  Oriental  granite  (excepi 
one,  which  is  of  cipoUino),  evidently  the  spoils  of  oldci 
buildings,  on  each  side  support  eight  pointed  arches  uiuch 
stilted.  There  is  no  t-iforium,  but  a  high  clerestory  with 
wide  two-light  -windows,  ,vith  simple  tracery  like  those  in 
the  aave- aisles  and  throughout  the  church.  .  The  othci 
half,  Eastern  in  two  senses,  is  both  wider  and  higher  than 
the  nave.,  Tt  also  is  divided  into  a  central  space  with  two 
aisles,  each  of  the  divisions  ending  at  the  east  with  an 
apse.  The  roofs  throughout  are  of  open  woodwork  verj 
low  in  pitch, -constructionally  plain,  but  richly  decorated 
with  colour,  now  mostly  restored.  At  the  west  end  o) 
the  nave  are  two  projecting  towers,  with  narthex-entrance 
between  them.  A  large  open  atrium,  which  once  existec 
at  the  west,  is  now  completely  destroyed.  The  outside  ot 
the  church  is  plain,  except  the  aisle  walls  and  three  eastern 
apses,  which  are  decorated  with  intersecting  pointed  arches 
and  other  ornaments  inlaid  in  marble.  The  outsides  ol 
the  principal  doorways  and  their  pointed  arches  are  magni- 
ficently enriched  ■with  carving  and  inlay,  a  curious  com- 
bination of  three  styles — Norman-Freuch,  Byzantine,  and 
Arab. 

It  is,  however,  the  enormous  extent  (80,630  square  feet) 
and  glittering  splendour  of  the  glass  rhosaics  covering  the 
interior,  which  make  this  church  so  marvellously  splendid 
(see  Mosaic).  With  the  exception  of  a  high  dado,  itself 
very  beautiful,  made  of  marble  slabs  enriched  with  bands  of 
mosaic,  the  whole  interior  surface'  of  the  walls,  including 
soffits  and  jambs  of  all  the  arches,  is  covered  -with  minute 
mosaic-pictures  in  brilliant  colours  on  a  gold  ground.  This 
gorgeous  method  of  decoration  takes  the  place  of  all  purely 
architectural  detail,  such  as  mouldings  and  panelling. 
The  mosaic  covers  even  the  edges  of  the  arches  and  jambs, 
which  are  slightly  rounded  off,  so  as  to  allow  them  to  bo 
covered  by  the  glass  tesserae.  This  device  gives  apj>arent 
softness  to  all  the  edges,  and  greatly  enhances  the  richness 
of  effect  produced-  by  the  gleaming  gold  grounds.  Th^ 
only  carving  inside  is  on  the  sculptured  caps  of  the  nave 
arcade,  mostly  Corinthian  in  style.  The  mosaic  pictures 
are  arranged  in  tiers,  divided  by  horizontal  and  vertical 
bands  of  elaborate  flowing  mosaic  ornament.  In  i^arts  ol 
the  choir  there  are  five  of  these  tiers  of  subjects  or  single 
figures  one  above  another.  The  half  dome  of  the  central 
apse  has  a  colossal  half-length  figure  of  Christ,  with  a 
seated  Virgin  and  Child  below  ;  the  other  apses  have  full- 
length  colossal  figures  of  St  Peter  and  St  Paul.  Inscrip-- 
tions  on  each  picture  explain  the  subject  or  saint  repre- 
sented ;  thes;2  are  in  Latin,  except  some  few  which  are 
in  Greek.  The  subjects  are  partly  from  the  .Old  Testa- 
ment tyjies  of  Christ  and  His  scheme  of  redemption,  with 
figures  of  those  who  prophesied  and  prepared  for^-His 
coming.  Towards  the  east  are  subjects  from  the  New 
Testament,  chiefly  representing  Christ's  miracles  and  suffer- 
ing, -with  apostles,  evangelists,  and  other  saints.  .  Tha 
design,  execution,  and  choice  of  subjects  all  appear  to  be' 
of  Byzantine  origin,  the  subjects  being  selected  from  the 
Menologium  drawn  up  by  the  emperor  Basilius  Porphyro-. 
genitus  in  the  10th  century. 

No  other  mosaics  perhaps'  so  closely  resemble  the  Mon- 


ceo 


M  0  N  — M  O  M 


reale  ones  us  thoas  over  the  nave  columns  in  the  Church 
of  the  Kativity  at  Bethlehem.  They  are  alike,  not  only 
in  design  and  treatment,  but  also  in  the  curious  mixture 
of  Latin  and  Greek  in  the  inscriptions  (see  De  Vogue, 
£ijlises  de  la  Ter,e  Sainte,  1860).  This  similarity  is  easily 
accounted  for  by  the  fact  that  these  two  sets  of  mosaics, 
though  60  far  apart,  were  executed  about  the  same  date 
and  under  the  same  conditions,  viz.,  by  the  hands  of 
Byzantine  artists,  working  for  Norman-French  kings. 

Ij  the  central  apse  at  Mbnreale,  behind  the  high  altar, 
kj  a  fine  maible  throne  for  the  archbishop.  This  position 
of  the  tiirone  is.  a  survival  of  the  early  basilican  arrange- 
ment, when  the  apse  and  altar  were  at  the  west  end.  In 
that  case  the  celebrant  stood  behind  the  altar  at  mass,  and 
looked  over  it  eastwards  towards  the  people.  This  posi- 
tion of  the  throne  was  frequently  reproduced  in  churches 
which,  like  this,  have  the  apse  at  the  east.  On  the  north 
side,  in  front  of  the  high  altar,  is  another  somewhat 
similar  throne  for  the  use  of  the  king.  The  tomb  of 
William  L,  the  founder's  father — a  magnificent  porphyry 
sarcophagus  contemporary  with  the  church,  under  a  marble 
pillared  canopy — and  the  founder  William  11. 's  tomb, 
erected  in  1575,  were  both  shattered  by  a  fire,  which  in 
1811  broke  out  in  the  choir,  injuring  some  of  the  mosaics, 
and  destroying  all  the  fine  walnut  choir-fittings,  the  organs, 
and  most  of  the  choir  roof.  The  tombs  were  rebuilt,  and 
the  whole  of  the  injm-ed  part  of  the  church  restored, 
mostly  very  clumsily,  a  few  years  after  the  fire.  On  the 
north  of  the  choir  are  the  tombs  of  Margaret,  wife  of 
William  I.,  and  her  two  sons  Eoger  and  Henry,  together 
with  an  urn  containing  the  viscera  of  St  Louis  of  France, 
who  died  in  1270.  The  pavement  of  the  triple  choir, 
though  much  restored,  is  a  very  magnificent  specimen  of 
marble  and  porphjrry  mosaic  in  "opus  Alexandrinum,"  with 
signs  of  Arab  influence  in  its  main  lines. 

Two  bronze  doors,  those  on  the  north  and  west  of  the 
church,  are  of  great  interest  in  the  history  of  art.  They 
are  both  divided  into  a  niunber  of  square  panels  with  sub- 
jects and  single  figures,  chiefly  from  Bible  history,  cast  in 
relief.  That  on  the  north  is  by  Barisanos  of  Trani  in 
southern  Italy,  an  artist  probably  of  Greek  origin.  It  is 
inscribed  baeisanus  than,  me  fecit.  The  cathedrals  at 
Trani  and  Ravello  also  have  bronze  doors  by  the  same 
sculptor.  The  western  door  at  Monreale,  inferior  to  the 
northern  one  both  in  richness  of  design  and  in  workmanship, 
is  by  Bonanuus  of  Pisa,  for  the  cathedral  of  which  place 
he  cast  the  still  existing  bronze  door  on  the  south,  opposite 
the  leaning  tower.     The  one  at  Monreale  is  inscribed  a.d. 

MCIXXXVI   IND.    m.    BONANNUS    CIVIS    PISANVS    ME    FECIT. 

It  is  superior  in  execution  to  the  Pisan  one.  The  door  by 
Barisanos  is  probably  of  about  the  same  time,  as  other 
examples  of  his  work  with  inscribed  dates  show  that  he 
was  a  contemporary  of  Bonannus.  (See  Metal-wokk.) 
The  monastic  Hbrary  contains  some  valuable  MSS.,  especi- 
ally a  number  of  bilingual  documents  in  Greek  and  Arabic, 
the  earliest  being  dated  1144.  The  archbishop  now  occu- 
pies the  eastern  part  of  the  monastic  buildings,  the  original 
palace  being  destroyed. 

See  Serradifako,  Vitamo  di  llormah,  lie,  1338  ;  Gravina,2)«omo 
(/>  Monreale,  the  best  work  on  tho  subject,  1859  *7.  ;  Testa  f^ila 
del  He  Quglielmo  11.,  1765  ;  Tarailo,  /  Rcali  Scpolcri  di  Mon- 
reale, 1826  ;  Hittorf  ot  Zaiith,  Architecture  de  la  Sicile,  1835  ■ 
Gaily  Knipht,  Saraeenie  and  Norman  Hcmnins  in  Sicihj,  London' 
18-10  ;  W.  Burges,  Notes  oh  llcdiseml  Jfosaic,  1863  ;  M.  D.  Wyatt' 
Mosaics  of  Middle  Ages,  London,  1849  ;  Hcssemcr,  Arahisdie  und 
Alt-ltalienische  Bau-Ver:nerungen,  1853 ;  Garrucci,  Arte  Cristiana 
^882.  (J.  H.  M.)  ' 

MOITEOE,  James  (17D8-1831),  fifth  president  of  tho 
United  States,  was  born  28th  April  1758,  in  the  county 
of  Westmoreland,  Virginia.  According  to  the  family 
tradition,  their  ancestors  are  traced  back  to  a  family  of 


Scottish  cavaliers  descended  from  Hector  Monroe,  an  officer 
of  Charles  L  At  the  outbreak  of  the  Revolut-onary  war, 
James  Monroe  was  a  student  at  the  College  of  William  and 
Mary,  but  left  his  studies  in  1776  to  join  the  continental 
army.  He  took  part  as  lieutenant  in  the  New  Jersey 
campaign  of  that  year,  and  was  wounded  at  the  battle  of 
Trenton.  The  next  year  he  served  with  the  rank  of  captain 
on  tho  staff  of  General  William  Alexander  ("Lord  Stirling"), 
but,  thus  being  out  of  the  line  of  promotion,  he  soon  found 
himself  without  military  employment.  In  1780  he  began 
the  study  of  the  law  under  the  direction  of  Jefferson,  then 
governor  of  Virginia.  His  intimacy  with  Jefferson  at  this 
time  had  probably  a  controlling  influence  upon  his  subse- 
quexit  political  career.  He  continued  through  all  vicissitudes 
to  possess  the  friendship  and  support  of  both  Jefferson  and 
Madison. 

In  1782  Monroe  was  in  the  State  legislature,  and  from 
1783  to  1786  was  a  member  of  Congress.  On  retiring 
from  Congress  he  entered  upon  the  practice  of  the  law  at 
Fredericksburg,  and  was  again  elected  to  the  legislature. 
In  the  Virginia  convention  of  1788  for  the  ratification  of 
the  constitution,  he  was  among  the  opponents  of  that 
instrument ;  but  his  course  was  approved  by  the  legisla- 
ture of  his  State,  who  elected  him  United  States  senator 
in  1790  to  fill  the  vacancy  caused  by  the  death  of  William 
Grayson.  As  senator  he  was  a  decided  opponent  of  the 
Federalist  administration.  Nevertheless  he  was  selected 
by  Washington  in  1794  as  minister  to  France  in  place  of 
Gouverneur  Morris,  a  Federalist,  recalled  upon  the  request 
of  the  French  Government.  Being  of  the  party  who  sym- 
pathized with  the  revolutionary  struggle  in  France,  it  was 
expected  that  his  appointment  would  be  flattering  to  the 
Government  of  that  country,  and  would  also  conciliate  the 
French  party  at  home.  The  Government  of  the  National  Con- 
vention received  Monroe  with  open  signs  of  favour,  and  on 
his  part  he  expressed  his  own  and  his  country's  sympathy 
with  the  French  Republic  with  so  much  enthusiasm  that 
Washington  deemed  his  language  not  in  keeping  with  the 
neutral  policy  which  the  administration  had  recently  pro- 
claimed. At  about  the  same  time  John  Jay  had  negotiated 
a  treaty  of  amity  and  commerce  with  England  which  gave 
great  umbrage  to  France.  It  was  alleged  that  the  earlier 
treaty  of  1778  with  France  was  violated  by  the  stipulations 
of  the  Jay  treaty ;  and  the  Directory  seemed  disposed  to 
make  of  this  a  casus  belli.  In  this  emergency  it  was 
believed  by  Washington  and  his  advisers  that  Jlonroe 
failed  to  represent  properly  the  policy  of  the  Government, 
and  he  was  therefore  recalled  in  1796.  In  justification  of 
his  diplomatic  conduct,  he  published  the  next  year  his 
View,  a  pamphlet  of  600  pages.  In  1799  he  became 
governor  of  Virginia,  and  was  tvdce  re-elected.  In  the 
meantime  the  Keimblican  party  had  come  into  power,  with 
Jefferson  as  president,  and  Monroe  was  again  called  upon 
to  fill  an  important  diplomatic  station.  He  was  com- 
missioned on  10th  January  1803  to  act  with  Livingston, 
resident  minister  at  Paris,  in  negotiating  the  purchase  of 
New  Orleans  and  the  territory  embracing  the  mouth  of 
the  Mississippi,  wliich  formed  a  part  of  the  province  of 
Louisiana,  recently  ceded  by  Spain  to  France.  In  view  of 
the  anticipated  renewal  of  hostilities  between  England  and 
France  in  1 803,  Napoleon  was  anxious,  for  a  consideration, 
to  part  with  his  new  acquisition,  which  in  the  event  of  a 
war  with  England  he  would  probably  lose  by  conquest. 
The  American  commissioners  met  therefore  with  little 
difliculty  in  the  accomplishment  of  their  object.  But,  in 
the  absence  of  instructions,  they  assumed -the  responsibility 
of  negotiating  the  purchase  not  only  of  New  Orleans  but 
of  tho  entire  territory  of  Louisiana — an  event  that  is  hardly 
second  in  importance  to  any  in  the  history  of  the  countrr 
Monroe  was  next  commisiioaed  as  minister  to  Englw'il, 


M  O  N  — M  0  N 


761 


to  gncceed  Unfns  King,  who  had  resigned.     In  1801  he 
undertook    a   mission    to    Madrid,    with    the    object    of 
negotiating  the  purchase  of  the  Floridas ;  but  in  this  he 
was  unsuccessful,  and  returned  to  London  in  1S05.     The 
next  year  he  was  joined  in  a  commission  with  William 
Pinkney  to  negotiate  a  treaty  with  England  to  take  the 
place   of   the   Jay  treaty,  which   expired   in   that  year. 
Lords  Auckland  and  Howick  having  been  appointed  on  the 
part  of  England,  a  treaty  was  concluded  on  the  last  day 
of  the  year,  which  was  perhaps  more  favourable  to  the 
United  States  than  the  Jay  treaty ;  but,  like  the  latter,  it 
contained  no  provision  against  the  impressment  of  Ameri- 
can seamen.     For  this  reason  President  Jefferson  refused 
to  submit  it  to  the  Senate  for  ratification,  but  sent  it  back 
for   revision.      In   the  meantime   Canning   had   become 
foreign  secretary  in   place  of   Fox,   and   refused   to   re- 
open the  negotiation.     Monroe  returned  to  the  United 
States  in  1807,  and,  as  in  the  case  of  his  first  French 
mission,  he  drew  up  a  defence  of  his  diplomatic  conduct 
in   England.     In  1808   certain   disaffected   Republicans 
attempted  to  put  Monroe  forward  as  the  candidate  for  the 
Presidency,  but  as  Virginia  declared  in  favour  of  Madison 
Monroe  withdrew  his  name.     In  1810  he  was  again  in 
the  legislature  of  his  native  State,  and  the  next  year  its 
governor.     But  in  this  year  he  was  called  from  the  state 
to  the   national  councils,  superseding   Robert   Smith   as 
secretary  of   state   in   Madison's   cabinet,    and   took  an 
active  part  in  precipitating  the  war  against  England  in 
1812.     On  the  retirement  of  Armstrong,  after  the  capture 
of  Washington  in  1814,  Monroe  assumed  the  duties  of  the 
war  department  in  addition  to  those  of  the  state  depart- 
ment, and  by  his  energy  and  decision  infused  something 
of  vigour  into  the  conduct  of  the  war.     He  was  elected 
president  in  1816,  and  was  re-elected   in   1820  without 
opposition.     The  period  of  his  administration  (1817-25) 
has  been  called  "  the  era  of  good  feeling,"  for  the  reason 
that  the  party  issues  of  the  past  were  mostly  dead,  and 
new  issues  had  not  yet  arisen.      In  the  formation  of 
his  cabinet  Monroe  showed  the  soundness  of  his  judg- 
ment, selecting  for  the  leading  positions  J.  Q.  Adams, 
J.  C.  Calhoun,  W.  H.  Crawford,  and  William  Wirt.     With 
these  able  advisers  he  devoted  himself  to  the  economic 
development   of  the  country,   which  had  been  so   long 
retarded  by  foreign  complications.     As  president,  more- 
over, he  was  able  to  accomplish  in   1819   the  acquisi- 
tion of  the  Floridas,  which  as  minister  to  Spain  he  had 
failed  to  do  in  1804,  and  to  define  the  bovmdary  of  Louis- 
iana, which  he  had  been  the  agent  in  purchasing  in  1803. 
But   Monroe  is  best  known  to  later  generations  as  the 
author  of  the  so-called  "  Monroe  doctrine,"  a  declaration 
inserted  in  his  seventh  annual  message,  2d  December  1823. 
It  was  the  formulation  of  the  sentiment,  then  beginning 
to  prevail,  that  America  was  for  Americans.     One  of  the 
principles  of  the  neutral  policy  of  the  country,  which  had 
been  established  with  much  difficulty,  had  been  that  the 
United  States  would  not  interfere  in  European  politics ; 
and  now  this  policy  was  held  to  include  the  converse  as  a 
necessary  corollary — that  is,  that  Europe  should  not  inter- 
fere in  Ajjierican  politics,  whether  in  North  America  or  South 
America-iJ^The  occasion  of  proclaiming  this  doctrine  was 
the  rumoured  intervention  of  the  Holy  Alliance  to  aid  Spain 
in  the  reconquest '  of  her  American  colonies.     President 
Monroe  believed  that  such  a  policy  entered  upon  by  the 
allied  continental  powers  of  Europe  would  be  dangerous 
to  the  peace  and  seufety  of  the  United  States  ;  he  therefore 
declared  that  "we  would  not  view  any  intervention  for 
the  purpose  of  oppressing  them  (the  Spanish  American 
states)  oi'cont'roUiiig  in  any  manner  their  destiny,  by  any 
European  power,  in  any  other  light  than  as  the  manifesta- 
tion of  an   unfriendly  disposition  towards   the   United 


States."  This  declaration,  together  with  the  known  hos. 
tility  of  England  to  such  a  project,  was  sufficient  to  prevent 
further  action  on  the  part  of  the  Alliance. 

On  the  expiration  of  his  presidential  term  Monroe  re- 
tired to  Oak  Hill,  his  residence  in  London  county,  Vir- 
ginia ;  but  at  the  time  of  his  deatji,  4th  July  1831,  he  was 
residing  in  New  York.  He  was  married  about  17SC,  and 
left  two  daughters.  He  was  a  man  of  spotless  character ; 
and,  though  not  possessing  ability  of  the  first  order,  he 
ranks  high  as  a  wise  and  prudent  statesman.  His  Life 
has  been  written  by  D.  C.  Gibnan.  (f.  sn.) 

MONROE,  a  city  of  the  United  States,  cormty  seat  of 
Monroe  county,  Michigan,  lies  32  miles  south-south-west 
of  Detroit,  on  both  banks  of  the  Raisin  river,  3  miles 
inland  from  Lake  Erie,  with  which  it  has  been  connected 
by  a  ship-canal  since  1843.  It  is  a  station  on  the  Canada 
Southern,  the  Flint  and  Pere  Marquette,  and  the  Detroit 
division  of  the  Lake  Shore  and  Michigan  Southern  Rail 
ways.  Agricultural  implement  factories,  a  spoke  and  hull 
factory,  f  — -.dries  and  engineering-works,  carriage-wcrks, 
grist-miUs,  paper-mills,  and  fniit-drying  establishments  ore 
in  operation.  From  400  to  500  tons  of  grapes  are  shipped 
yearly  from  the  neighbouring  vineyards,  and  over  100,000 
gallons  of  wine  are  made  here.  The  population  in  ISSO 
was  4928.  Settled  as  Frenchtown  by  a  body  of  Canadians 
in  1784,  Monroe  received  its  present  name,  in  honour  of 
President  Monroe,  in  1817.  Its  city  charter  dates  from 
1837.  It  was  the  scene  of  the  battle  of  the  river  Raisin,. 
22d  January  1813. 

MONROVIA.  See  Liberia,  voL  xiv.  p.  608. 
MONS,  a  town  of  Belgium,  the  capital  of  the  proTince 
of  Hainault,  on  the  rivers  Haine  and  Trouille,  and  31 
miles  south-west  of  Brussels.  The  population  in  1880  was 
25,600.  Mons  is  divided  by  the  river  Trouille  into  an 
upper  and  lower  town,  the  first  built  on  rising  ground  in 
the  shape  of  an  amphitheatre,  the  second  extending  into  the 
plain  ;  four  bridges  connect  the  two.  The  place  is  pleasing 
and  cheerful  of  aspect,  having  broad  weU-paved  streets 
and  handsome  squares.  The  fortifications,  once  among  the 
strongest  of  the  Continent,  have  quite  recently  been  razed, 
their  site  being  now  occupied  by  an  extensive  avenue  or 
boiilevard.  Among  the  monuments  worthy  of  mention 
are — the  church  of  St  Waudru,  one  of  the  best  types  of 
original  architecture  to  be  found  in  Belgium  ;  the  church 
of  St  Elizabeth,  a  combination  of  the  Gothic  style  and 
the  Corinthian;  the  town-hall,  erected  in  1458;  and  the 
belfry  tower,  next  to  which  formerly  rose  the  old  castle 
of  the  counts  of  Hainault,  the  demolition  of  which  led,' 
a  few  years  ago,  to  the  discovery  of  some  curious  mural 
paintings  belonging  to  the  12th  century.  Mons  possesses 
a  military  arsenal,  a  school  of  engineering,  and  a  public 
library  of  importance;  the  administration  of  law  and 
government  for  the  province  is  concentrated  there.  It 
contains  manufactures  of  cotton,  velvet,  cloth,  muslin, 
soap,  and  clay  pipes ;  also  brass-foundries,  tan-yards,  and 
breweries,  and  a  market  of  some  note  for  agricultural 
produce,  cattle,  horses,  and  tobacco.  The  main  source  of 
the  wealth  and  prosperity  of  Mons  is  derived  from  the 
collieries  which  exist  in  its  vicinity,  and  yield  annually 
between  two  and  three  million  tons  of  first-class  coal,  the 
greater  part  of  which  is  carried  into  France  ;  in  the  imme- 
diate neighbom-hood  of  the  town  are  the  large  and  important 
villages  of  Jemmapes,  Quaregnon,  Frameries,  Paturages, 
Wasmes,  and  Dour,  each  with  a  population  of  from  ten  to 
twelve  thousand  inhabitants;  these  locaU ties,  together  with 
many  others  somewhat  less  peopled,  form  an  agglomeration 
called  the  Borinage,  rich  in  coal-mines,  in  iron-foundries,  in 
stone  and  marble  quarries,  and  may  be  considered  as  one 
of  the  busiest  centres  in  the  world. 
Mons  is  built  on  the  site  of  a  Koman  camp  erected  by  JvJiua 


762 


M  0  N  — M  O  N 


C^.-mr,  and  aftcrwar(Js  occiipiDd  by  a  brotlicT  of  Cicero,  who  was 
besiegwl  there  by  Ambiorix  ^hief  of  the  Eburoues.  In  the  8th  cen- 
tury a  lady  of  the  name  of  Waudru  or  Waltrud,  countess  of  Hain- 
»olt,  founded  a  convent,  which  became  the  centre  of  the  town.  In 
804  Charlemagne  made  it  the  capital  of  the  county  of  Hainault ;  it 
was  fortified  in  1H8.  Baldmn  VI.,  afterwards  Latin  emperor  of 
Constantinople,  was  very  active  in  promoting  the  interests  of  Mous, 
and  endowed  it  with  a  celebrated  charter  in  the  year  1200.  After 
teing  reduced  by  nearly  one  half  by  the  plague,  Mons  received 
within  its  walls  the  Jews  whom  Philip  the  Long  had  expelled  from 
France.  The  city  attained  its  highest  degree  of  prosperity  under 
pharles  V.,  but  its  greatness  w.-is  arrested  during  the  goverriment 
jf  the  duke  of  Alva  by  civic  disturbances,  which  lasted  until  the 
reign  of  Albert  and  Isabella.  In  more  recent  times  Mons  has  had 
to  pay  tribute  to  the  warlike  spirit  of  its  neighboui's  ;  it  was  taken 
ijy  Louis  XIV.  in  1691,  given  back  in  1697,  and  retaken  in  1701  and 
»gain  in  1709.  In  1748  it  fell  into  the  hands  of  Austiia ;  the  Belgian 
insurgents  stormed  it  in  1789 ;  the  French  iu  1792,  when  Dumouriea 
won  the  battle  of  Jemmapes  under  its  walls  ;  ia  1814  it  belonged 
to  the  Netherlands,  and  has  formed  part  of  the  Belgian  kingdom 
3mce  1830. 

MONSOON.     See  Meteoeology,  supra,  p.  148  sj.,  and 
Inbi.uj  Ocean. 

MONSTER.  Monsters  or  naonstrous  births  are  tlie  snb- 
ject  of  Animal  Teratology,  a  department  of  morphological 
science  treating  of  deviations  from  the  normal  development 
of  the  embryo.  The  term  "embryo"  is  conventionally 
limited,  in  human  anatomy,  to  the  ovum  in  the  first  three 
months  of  its  intra-uterine  existence,  v,-hile  it  is  still  develop- 
ing or  acquiring  the  rudiments  of  its  form,  the  term 
"f  cetus"  being  applied  to  it  in  the  subsequent  months  during 
which  the  organism  grows  on  the  lines  of  development 
already  laid  dowsi.  It  is  mostly  in  the  first  or  embryonic 
jperiod  that  those  deviations  from  the  normal  occur  which 
present  themselves  as  monstrosities  at  the  time  of  birth  ; 
these  early  traces  of  deviation  within  the  embryo  may  be 
slight,  but  they  "  grow  with  its  gro^vth  and  strengthen  with 
its  strength,"  until  they  amount  to  irreparable  defects  or 
secretions,  often  incompatible  with  extra-uterine  life.  The 
name  of  "  teratology,"  introduced  by  fitienne  Geoffroy  St- 
Hilaire  (1822),  is  derived  from  ripas,  the  equivalent  of 
.  monstrum ;  teratology  is  a  term  new  enough  to  have  none 
but  scientific  associations,  while  the  Latin  word  has  a  long 
record  of  superstitions  identified  ■nith  it.  The  myths  of 
siren,  satyr,  Janus,  cyclops,  and  the  like,  with  the  cor- 
responding figures  in  Northern  mythology,  find  a  remote 
anatomical  basis  in  monstrosities  which  have,  for  the  most 
part,  no  life  except  in  the  foetal  state.  The  mythology  of 
giants  and  dwarfs  is,  of  course,  better  founded.  The  term 
monster  was  originally  used  in  the  same  sense  as  portent : 
Ci<:&m{De  Div.,\.)&a.ys.,"  Moiistra,ostenta,poHenta,prodigia 
appellantur,  guoniam  monslrant,  ostendvnt,  portendunt,  et 
pradicunt."  Luther  ^  speaks  of  the  birth  of  a  monstrous 
calf,  evidently  the  subject  of  contemporary  talk,  as  pointing 
to  some  groat  impending  change,  and  he  expresses  the  hope 
that  the  catastrophe  might  be  the  Last  Day  itself.  The 
rise  of  more  scientific  views  will  be  sketched  at  the  close 
of  the  article 

Although  monstrosities,  both  in  the  human  species  and 
in  other  animals,  tend  to  repeat  certain  definite  types  of 
erroneous  development,  they  do  not  fall  readily  into  classes. 
It  is  remarked  by  Vrolik  that  a  scientific  classification  is 
impracticable  from  being  too  cumbrous,  and  that  a  con- 
venient grouping  is  all  that  need  be  attempted.  The 
most  usual  grouping  (originally  suggested  by  Bufibn,  1800) 
is  into  monstra  per  excesmm,  monstra  per  defectum,  and 
monUra  per  fabricaTh  alienam.  It  seems  iiseful,  ho'yever, 
to  place  the  more  simple  cases  of  excess  and  of  defect  side 
by  side;  and  it  is  necessary,  above  all,  to  separate  the 
double  monsters  from  the  single,  the  theory  of  the  former 
being  a  distinct  chapter  in  teratology^ 


'^  1  In  a  passogc  quoted  by  BischoIT  from  the  lOtli  volume  ot  UutUcT'o 
Forks,  Hallo  ed.,  p.  24!<i. 


1.  Monstrosities  in  a  Singh  Sody. — The  abnormality 
may  extend  to  the  body  throughout,  a.s  in  well-proportioned 
giants  and  dwarfs ;  or  it  may  affect  a  certain  region  or 
member,  as — to  take  the  simplest  case — when  there  is  a 
finger  or  toe  too  many  or  too  few.  It  is  very  common 
for  one  malformation  to  be  correlated  with  several  others, 
as  in  the  extreme  case  of  acardiac  monsters,  in  which  the 
non-development  of  the  heart  is  associated  with  the  non- 
development  of  the  head,  and  with  other  radical  defects. 

Giants  are  conventionally  limited  to  persons  over  7 
feet  in  height.  The  normal  proportions  of  the  frame 
are  adhered  to  more  or  less  closely,  except  in  the  skidl, 
which  is  relatively  small ;  but  accurate  measurements, 
even  in  the  best-proportioned  cases,  prove,  when  reduced 
to  a  scale,  that  other  parts  besides  the  skull,  notably 
the  thigh-bono  and  the  foot,  may  be  undersized  though 
overgroivn."  In  persons  who  are  merely  very  tall,  the  great 
stature  depends  often  on  the  inordinate  length  of  the  lower 
limbs ;  but  in  persons  over  7  feet  the  lower  limbs  are  not 
markedly  disproportionate.  In  many  cases  the  muscles 
and  viscera  are  not  sufficient  for  the  overgrown  frame,  and 
the  individuals  are  usually,  but  not  always,  of  feeble 
intelligence  and  languid  disposition,  and  short-lived.' 
The  brain-case  especially  is  undersized — the  Irish  giant 
in  the  museum  of  Trinity  College,  DubUn,  is  the  single 
exception  to  this  rule — but  the  bones  of  the  face,  and' 
especially  the  lower  jaw,  are  on  a  large  scale.  Giants 
are  never  born  of  gigantic  parents ;  in  fact,  sterility 
usually  goes  with  this  monstrosity.  '  Their  size  is  some- 
times excessive  at  birth,  but  more  often  the  indications  of 
great  stature  do  not  appear  till  later,  it  may  be  as  late  as 
the  ninth  year;  they  attain  their  full  height  before  the 
twenty-first  year.  They  have  been  more  frequently  male 
than  female;  the  German  giantess  lately  exhibited  (1882) 
was  as  tall  as  any  authentic  case  in  the  male  sex. 

Dwarfs  are  conventionally  limited  to  persons  under  4 
feet.  They  are  more  Ukely  than  giants  to  have  the  modu- 
lus of  the  body  perfect.  *  "  In  the  true  dwarf,  as  far  as  I 
have  been  able  to  ascertain,  the  proportions  between  the 
several  parts  of  the  frame  are  good,  corresponding,  or 
nearly  corresponding,  with  those  of  the  noimal  adult ;  and 
the  diminutive  stature  depends,  accordingly,  not  upon  re- 
latively imperfect  growth  of  any  particidar  segments,  or 
even  upon  the  permanepce  of  a  foetal  or  childlike  con- 
dition, but  upon  the  whole  frame  being  tmdersized " 
(Humphry).  ^Vhere  disproportion  occurs  in  the  true, 
dwarf  it  takes  the  form  of  a  large-sized  head,  broad 
shoulders  and  capacious  chest,  and  undersized  lower  limbs. 
Dwarfs  with  rickets  are  perhaps  to  be  distinguished  from 
true  dwarfs ;  these  are  cases  in  which  the  spine  is  curved, 
and  sometimes  the  bones  of  the  limbs  bent  and  the 
pelvis  deformed.  As  in  the  case  of  giants,  dwarfs  are 
seldom  the  progeny  of  dwarfs,  who  are,  in  fact,  usually 
sterile ;  the  unnatural  smallness  may  be  obvious  at  birth, 
but  is  more  likely  to  make  itself  manifest  in  the  years  of 
growth.  Dwarfs  are  much  more  easily  brought  up  than 
giants,  and  are  stronger  and  longer -lived  ;  they  have 
usually  also  strong  passions  and  acute  intelligence.  The 
legends  of  the  dwarfs  and  giants  are  on  the  whole  well 
based  on  fact  (see  Dwaef  and  Giant). 

Redundancy  and  Defect  in  Single  Parts. — The  simplest 
case  of  tliis  redundancy  is  a  sixth  digit,  well  formed,  and 
provided  with  muscles  (of  tendons),  nerves,  and  blood- 
vessels like  the  others  ;  it  is  usually  a  repetition  of  the  little 
finger  or  toe,  and  it  may  bo  present  on  one  or  both  hands, 
or  on  one  or  both  feet,  or  in  all  foiu'  extremities,  as  in  the 
giant  of  Gath.  The  want  of  one,  two,  or  more  digits  on 
hand  or  foot,  ax-  on  both,  is  another  fiiniple  auoioaly  ;  and, 


'  S«c the lajtfs in TlmnpTir^i's  flvatire on  the .Jtwiaa  Skdeton, p.  109. .' 


MONSTER 


763 


like  tlio  redundancy,  it  is  apt  to  repeat  itself  in  the 
same  family.  Meckel  saw  a  giil  who  had  an  extra  digit 
on  each  extremity,  while  a  sister  wanted  four  of  the  fingers 
of  one  hand.  Where  the  supernumerary  digits  are  more 
than  one  on  each  extremity,  the  whole  set  are  apt  to  be 
rudimentary  or  stunted  ;  they  look  as  if  two  or  more  of  tho 
embryonic  buds  had  been  subject  to  cleavage  down  the 
middle,  and  to  arrest  of  longitudinal  growth.  There  are 
two  or  three  authentic  instances  of  a  whole  lower  limb  ap- 
pearing at  birth  as  two  withered  halves,  as  if  from  embry- 
onic cleavage.^  Other  redundancies  of  the  skeleton  are 
extra  vertebrae  (sometimes  the  coccygeaJ,  giving  the  ap- 
pearance of  a  rudimentary  tail),  or  an  extra  rib.  A 
double  row  of  teeth  is  occasionally  met  with ;  the  most 
interesting  case  of  this  anomaly  is  .that  in  which  the 
rudiments  of  a  double  row  exist  from  the  first,  but  the 
plienomenon  is  sometimes  produced  by  the  milk  teeth 
persisting  along  with  the  second  set.  One  or  more  extra 
teeth  are  occasionally  met  with  in  iine  with  the  rest. 
Among  redimdancies  of  the  soft  parts,  by  far  the  most 
frequent  is  an  extra  nipple,  or  pair  of  nipples.  It  is  only 
the  nipple,  or  the  most  external  mechanical  adjunct  of  the 
mammary  apparatus,  that  is  repeated,  and  very  seldom,  if 
ever,  the  breast  structure  itself.  The  nipple,  althougk  it  is 
the  latest  addition  to  the  mechanism  of  lactation,  is  in  the 
individual  mammal  developed  on  the  skin  before  the  gland 
is  formed  underneath ;  and  that  facility,  which  applies  to 
the  development  of  external  characters  generally,  appears 
to  be  the  reason  why  there  may  be  one  or  more  extra 
nipples  but  no  redundant  gland.  lu  the  same  connexion, 
it  is  interesting  to  observe  that  the  supernumerary  nipple, 
has  been  shown  by  statistics  on  a  large  scale  to  be  twice  as 
common  in  men  as  in  women,  although  in  the  male  the 
mammary  function  never  comes  to  maturity,  and  even  the 
structme  retrogrades  after  puberty.  Traces  of  an  additional 
nipple,  or  pair  of  them,  in  more  or  less  symmetrical  position 
below  the  normal  ones,  are  not  very  uncommon  when  care- 
fully looked  for.  Among  the  sense  organs  there  is  a 
remarkable  instance  recorded  of  doubling  of  the  appendages 
of  the  left  eye,  but  not  of  the  eyeball  itself ;  the  left  half 
of  the  frontal  bone  is  double,  making  two  eye-sockets  on 
that  gide,  and  the  extra  orbit  has  an  eyebrow  and  eyelid.  ^ 
The  external  ear  (jjinna)  has  also  been  found  double  on  one 
side.  Doubling  of  any  of  the  internal  organs  is  extremely 
rare,  and  is  probably  always  traceable  to  a  more  or  less 
complete  Assuring  or  lobation.  The  ducts  or  vessels  con- 
nected with  organs,  and  playing  a  purely  mechanical  part, 
are  not  unfrequently  doubled ;  thus  each  kidney  may  have 
two  ureters,  and  a  similar  variation  may  occur  in  veins 
am!  arteries. 

Monstrosities  from  Defective  Closure  in  the  Middle  Line. 

Under  this  head  come  some  of  the  commonest  congenital 
malformations,  including  slight  deficiencies  such  as  luireUp, 
and  serious  defects  such  as  a  gap  in  the  crown  of  the 
head  with  absence  of  the  brain.  The  embryo  is  originally 
a  cLcular  flattened  disc  spread  out  on  one  pole  of  the  yolk, 
and  itisformtdintoacyUndrical  body  (vrith four  appendages) 
by  the  free  margins  of  the  disc,  or  rather  its  ventral  laminse, 
folding  inwards  to  meet  in  the  middle  line  and  so  close  in 
the  pelvic,  abdominal,  thoracic,  pharyngeal,  and  oral  cavities. 
Meanwhile,  and  indeed  rather  earlier,  two  longitudinal 
parallel  ridges  on  the  top  or  along  the  back  of  the  disc 
have  grown  up  and  united  in  the  middle  line  to  form  the 
second  barrel  of  the  body— the  neural  canal— of  smaU  and 
uniform  width  in  the  lower  three-fourths  or  spinal  region, 
but  expanding  into  a  wide  chamber  for  the  brain.  This 
division  into  neural  (dorsal)  and  hsemal  (ventral)  canals 

'  See  Foretet's  AUiu,  Taf.  vui.,  figs.  13  and  li 

'  See  preparatioD  in  the  Wuisbuig  ilUMum,  Sgiircd  by  Fo.-aler,  Tat 

TUL,  DgS.  9-12. 


underlies  all  vertebrate  development.  Impenect  closure 
along  either  of  those  embryonic  lines  of  junction  may  prtv 
duce  various  degrees  of  monstrosity.  The  simplest  and 
commonest  form,  hardly  to  be  reckoned  in  the  present  cate- 
gory, is  harelip  with  or  without  cleft  palate,  which  results 
from  defective  closure  of  tho  ventral  laminoe  at  their  extreme 
upper  end.  Another  simple  form,  but  of  much  more  serious 
import,  is  a  gap  left  in  the  neural  canal  at  its  lower  end  j 
usually  the  arches  of  the  lumbar  vertebrae  are  deficient, 
and  the  fluid  that  surrounds  the  spinal  cord  bulges  out  ii^ 
its  membranes,  producing  a  soft  tumour  under  the  skin  at 
the  lower  part  of  the  back.  This  is  the  condition  known 
as  hydrorhachis,  depending  on  the  osseous  defect  knovra  as 
spina  bifida.  Children  bom  with  this  defect  are  difficult 
to  rear,  and  are  very  likely  to  die  in  a  few  days  or  weeks. 
More  rarely  the  gap  in  the  arches  of  the  vertebrae  is  in  the 
region  of  the  neck.  If  it  extend  all  along  the  back,  it  will 
probably  involve  the  skuU  also.  Deficiency  of  the  crown 
of  the  head,  and  in  the  spine  as  well,  may  be  not  always 
traceable  to  want  of  formative  power  to  close  the  canal  in 
the  middle  line  ;  an  over-distended  condition  of  the  central 
water-canal  and  water-spaces  of  the  cord  and  brain  may 
prevent  the.  closure  of  the  bones,  and  ultimately  lead  to 
the  disruption  of  the  nervous  organs  themselves ;  and 
injuries  to  the  mother,  with  inflammation  set  up  in  the 
foetus  and  its  appendages,  may  be  the  more  remote  cause. 
But  it  is  by  defect  in  the  middle  line  that  the  mischief 
manifests  itself,  and  it  is  in  that  anatomical  category  that 
tho  malformations  are  included.  The  osseous  deficiency 
at  the  crown  of  the  head  is  usually  accompanied  by  want 
of  the  scalp,  as  well  as  of  the  brain  and  membranes.  Tlie 
bones  of  the  face  may  be  well  developed  and  the  features 
regular,  except  that  the  eyeballs  bulge  forward  under,  the 
closed  lids ;  but  there  is  an  abrupt  horizontal  line  above 
the  orbits  where  the  bones  cease,  the  skin  of  the  brow 
joining  on  to  a  spongy  kind  of  tissue  that  occupies  the 
sides  and  floor  of  the  cranium.  This  is  the  commonest 
foi-m  of  an  aneneephaloxts  or  brainless  monster.  There  are 
generally  mere  traces  of  the  brain,  although,  in  some  rare 
and  curious  instances,  the  hemispheres  are  developed  in 
an  exposed  position  on  the  back  of  the  neck.  The  cranial 
nerves  are  usually  perfect,  with  the  exception  sometimes 
of  the  optic  (and  retina).  Vegetative  existence  is  not  im- 
possible, and  a  brainless  monster  has  been  kno.vn  to 
survive  sixty-five  days.  The  child  is  usually  a  very  large 
one. 

Closely  allied,  as  we  have  seen,  to  the  anencephalous 
condition  is  the  condition  of  congenital  hydrocephalus. 
The  nervous  system  at  its  beginning  is  a  neural  canal,  not 
only  as  regards  its  bony  covering,  but  in  its  interior ;  a 
wide  space  lined  by  ciliated  epithelium  and  filled  with 
water  extends  along  the  axis  of  the  spinal  cord,  and 
expands  into  a  series  of  water-chambers  in  the  brain.  As 
development  proceeds,  the  walls  thicken  at  the  expease  of 
the  internal  water-spaces,  the  original  tubular  or  chambered 
plan  of  the  central  nervous  system  is  departed  from,  and 
those  organs  assume  the  practically  solid  form  in  wnich 
we  familiarly  know  them.  If,  however,  the  water-spaces 
persist  in  their  embryonic  proportions  notwithstanding 
the  thickening  of  the  nervous  substance  forming  their 
walls,  there  results  an  enormous  brain  which  is  more  than 
half  occupied  inside  with  water,  contained  in  spaces  that 
correspond  on  the  whole  to  the  ventricles  of  the  brain 
as  normally  bounded.  A  hydrocephalic  foetus  may  sur- 
vive its  birth,  and  will  be  more  apt  to  be  affected  in  its 
nutrition  than  in  its  intelligence.  In  many  cases  the 
hydrocephalic  condition  does  not  come  on  till  after  the\ 
child  is  bom.  The  microceplicUous  condition,  where  it  is 
not  a  part  of  cretinism,  is  not  usually  a  congenital  defect 
in  the  strict  Bensii.  but  more  often  a  conseauence  of  tho 


764 


M  O-  N  S  T  K  R 


premature  union  of  tlie  bones  of  the  skull  along  their  sutures 
or  lines  of  growth. 

Eeturning  to  the  ventral  middlef  line,  there  may  be 
defects  of  closure  below  the  lips  and  palate,  as  in  the 
breast-bone  (fissure  of  the  sternum),  at  the  navel  (the  last 
point  to  close  in  any  case),  and  along  the  middle  line  of 
the  abdomen  generally.  The  commonest  point  for  a  gap 
in  the  nuddle  line  of  the  belly  is  at  its  lower  jiart,  an  iuch 
'or  two  above  the  pubes.  At  that  point  in  the  embiyo 
there  issues  the  allantois,  a  baUocn-Iibe  expansion  from 
the  ventral  cavity,  which  carries  on  its  outer  surface 
blood-vessels  from  the  embryo  to  interdigitato  with  those 
,of  the  mother  on  the  uterine  surface.  Having  served  its 
temporaiy  purpose  of  carrying  the  blood-vessels  across  a 
space,  the  balloon-like  allantois  collapses,  and  rolls  up  into 
the  rounded  stem-like  umbilical  cord  through  most  of  its 
extent ;  but  a  portion  of  the  sac  within  the  body  of  the 
fcetus  is  retained  as  the  permanent'  urinaty  bladder:  That 
economical  adaptation  of  a  portiot;  of  a  vesicular  organ, 
origiiially  formed  for  purposes  of  communication  between 
the  embryo  and  the  mother,  appears  to  entail  sometimes 
a  defect  in  the  wall  of  the  abdomen  jvist  above  the  pubes, 
and  a  defect  in  the  anterior  wall  of  the  bladder  itself. 
This  w  the  distressing  congenital  condition  of  fissure  of 
the  urinary  bladder,  in  which  its  interior  is  exposed 
through  an  opening  in  the  skin;  the  pubic  bones  are 
separated  by  an  interval,  and  the  reproductive  organs  are 
ill  formed ;  the  urachus  is  wanting,  and  the  imibUicus  is 
always  placed  exactly  at  the  upper  end  of  the  gap  in  the 
skin.  A  monstrosity  recalling  the  cloacal  arrangement 
cf  the  bird  is  met  with  as  a  more  extreme  defect  in  the 
same  parts. 

Hermaphroditism. — Although  this  anomalous  condition 
does  not  fall  imder  defective  closure  in  the  middle  line,  it 
may  ba  said  to  be  due  to  a  similar  failiu-e  of  purpose,  or  to 
an  uncertainty  in  the  nisus  formativus  at  a  corresponding 
stage  of  development.  There  is  a  point  of  time,  falling 
about  the  eighth  week,  up  to  which  the  embryo  may  de- 
velop either  the  reproductive  organs  of  the  male  or  the 
reproductive  organs  of  the  female ;  in  the  vast  majority  of 
cases' the  future  development  and  growth  are  carried  out  on 
one  line  or  the  other,  but  in  a  small  number  there  is  an 
ambiguous  development  leading  to  various  degrees  of 
hermaphroditism  or  doubtful  sex.  The  primary  indecision, 
so  to  speak,  affects  only  the  ovary  or  testis  respectively, 
cr  rather  the  common  germinal  ridge  out  of  which  either 
may  develop ;  the  uncertainty  in  this  embryonic  sexual 
ridge  sometimes  leads  actually  to  the  formation  of  a  pair 
of  ovaries  and  a  pair  of  small  testes,  or  to  an  ovary  on  one 
side  and  a  testis  on  the  other ;  but  even  when  there  is  no 
such  double  sex  in  the  essential  organs  (as  in  the  majority 
of  hermaphrodites)  there  is  a  great  deal  of  doubling  and 
ambiguity  entailed  in  the  secondary  or  external  organs  and 
parts  of  generation.  ThosQ  parts  which  are  rudimentary  or 
obsolete  in  the  male  but  highly  developed  in  the  female, 
and  those  parts  which  are  rudimentary  in  the  female  but 
highly  developed  in  the  male  tend  in  the  hermaphrodite 
to  bo  developed  equally,  and  all  of  them  badly.  In 
some  cases  the  external  organs  of  one  sex  go  with  the 
intemai  organs  of  the  opposite  sex.  It  has  been  observed 
thatwhen  middle  life  is  reached  or  passed  the  predominance 
in  features,  voice,  and  disposition  leans  distinctly  towards 
the  masculine  side.  The  mythological  or  clae^ical  notions 
of  hermaphroditism,  like  so  much  else  in  the  traditions  of 
teratology,  are  exaggerated. 

Cyclops,  Siren,  itc. — The  same  feebleness  of  the  forma- 
tive energy  (the  Bildungstrieb  of  Blumenbach)  which  gives 
rise  to  some  at  least  of  the  coses  of  defective  closur*  ia 
the  middle  line,  and  to  the  cases  of  undecided  sc.x,  leads  also 
to  imperfect  separation  of  syuimetricai  earts.     The  most 


remarkable  case  of  the  kind  is  the  cyclops  monster.  At 
a  point  corresponding  to  the  root  of  the  nose  there  is 
found  a  single  orbital  cavity,  sometimes  of  small  size  and 
with  no  eyebaU  in  it,  at  other  times  of  the  usual  size  of 
the  orbit  and  containing  an  eyeball  more  or  less  complete. 
In  still  other  cases,  which  indicate  the  nature  of  the 
anomaly,  the  orbital  cavity  extends  for  some  distance  on 
each  side  of  the  middle  line,  and  contains  two  eyeballs  lying 
close  together.  *  The  usual  nose  is  wanting,  but  above  the 
single  orbital  cavity  there  is  often  a  nasal  process  on  the 
forehead,  with  which  nasal  bones  may  be  articulated,  and 
cartilages  joined  to  the  latter ;  these  form  the  framework 
of  a  short  fleshy  protuberance-  hie  a  small  proboscis. 
The  lower  jaw  is  sometimes  wanting  in  cyclopeans ;  the- 
cheek-bones  are  apt  to  be  small,  and  the  mouth  a  small 
round  hole,  or  altogether  absent ;  the  rest  of  the  body  may 
be  well  developed.  The  key  to  the  cyclopean  condition 
is  found  in  the  state  of  the  brain.  The  olfactory  nerves 
or  lobes  are  usually  described  as  absent,  although  Vrolik 
has  found  them  in  some  instances ;  the  brain  is  very  imper- 
fectly divided  into  hemispheres,  and  appears  as  a  somewhat 
pear-shaped  sac  with  thick  walls,  the  longitudinal  partition 
of  dura  mater  (falx  cerebri)  being  wanting,  the  surface 
almost  unconvoluted,  the  corpus  callosum  deficient,  the 
basal  ganglia  rudimentary  or  fused.  The  optic  chia^ma 
and  nerves  are  usually  replaced  by  a  single  mesial  nerve, 
but  sometimes  the  chiasma  and  pair  of  nerves  are  present. 
The  origin  of  this  monstrosity  dates  back  to  an  early 
period  of  development,  to  the  time  when  the  future 
hemispheres  were  being  formed  as  protrusions  from  the 
anterior  cerebral  vesicle  or  fore-brain  ;  it  may  be  conceived 
that,  instead  of  two  distinct  buds  from  that  vesicle,  there 
was  only  a  single  outgrowth  with  imperfect  traces  of  cleav- 
age. That  initial  defect  would  carry  -with  it  naturally  the 
undivided  state  of  the  cerebrum,  and  with  the  latter  there 
would  be  the  absence  of  '"ilfactory  lobes  and  of  a  nose,  and 
a  single  eyeball  placed  where  the  nose  should  have  been. 
A  Cyclops  has  been  known  to  live  for  several  days.  The 
monstrosity  is  not  uncommon  among  the  domestic  animals, 
and  is  especially  frequent  ia  the  pig.  There  is  another 
congenital  malformation,  in  which  an  eyeball  is  wanting 
from  one  of  the  sockets ;  but  in  that  case  there  is  no  defect 
of  development  in  the  bones,  and  the  brain  ttnd  nose  are 
normal. 

Another  ciurfous  result  of  defective  separation  of  sym- 
metrical parts  is  the  siren  form  of  foetus,  in  which  the 
lower  limbs  occur  as  a  single  tapering  prolongation  of  the 
trunk  like  the  hinder  part  of  a  dolphin,  at  the  end  of 
which  a  foot  (or  both  feet)  may  or  may  not  be  visible. 
The  defects  in  the  bones  underlying  thi.^  siren  form  are 
very  various  :  in  some  cases  there  is  only  one  limb  (Ihigh' 
and  leg-bones)  in  the  middle  line  ;  in  others  all  the  bones 
of  each  limb  are  present  in  more  or  less  rudimentary 
condition,  but  adhering  at  prominent  points  of  the  ad- 
jacent surfaces.  The  pelvis  and  pelvic  viscera  share  in  the 
abnormality.  A  much  more  common  and  harmless  case  of 
unseparated  symmetrical  parts  is  v>here  the  hand  or  foot 
has  two,  three,  or  mora  digits  fused  together.  This  syn- 
dactylous  anomaly  runs  in  families, 

lAmhs  Absent  or  Stunted. — -Allied  to  these  fused  or  un- 
separated states  of  the  extremities,  or  of  parts  of  them, 
are  the  class  of  deformities  in  which  whole  linbs  are 
absent,  or  represented  only  by  stumps.  The  trunk  (and 
head)  may  be  well  formed,  and  the  individual  healthy ; 
all  four  extremities  may  be  reduced  to  short  stumps  eitEer| 
wanting  hands  and  feet  entirely,  or  with  the  latter  fairly 
well  developed;  or  the  legs  only  may  be  rudimentary  or 
wanting,  or' the  arms  only,  or  one  extremity  only.  Al- 
though some  of  these  cases  doubtless  depend  upon  aber-l 
rant  or  deficient  formative  power  in  the  particular  direo* 


M  G  N  S  T  E  B 


765 


tions,  there  wo  others  of  them  referable  to  the  effects  of 
mechanical  pressure,  and  even  to  direct .  amputation  of 
parts  within  the  uterus. 

Aeardiac  and  Acranial  Moiuten. — It  sometimes  uappens 
in  a  twin  pregnancy  that  one  of  the  embryos  fails  to 
develop  a '  heart  and  a  complete  vascular  system  of  its 
own,  depending  for  its  nourishment  upon  blood  derived 
from  the  placenta  of  its  well-formed  twin  by  means  of  its 
umbilical  vessels.  It  grows  into  a  more  or  less  shapeless 
mass,  in  which  all  traces  of  the  human  form  may  be  lost. 
Other  viscera  besides  the  heart  will  be  wanting,  and 
no  head  distinguishable  j  the  most  likely  parts  to  keep 
the  line  of  devSopment  are  the  lumbar  region  (with  the 
kidneys),  the  pelvis,  and  the  lower  limbs.  The  twin  of 
this  monster  may  be  a  healthy  infant. 

Reversed  Position  of  the  Viicera. — ^This  is  a  develop- 
mental error  depending  on  the  retention  of  the  right  aortic 
arch  as  in  birds,  ini>tead  of  the  left  as  is  usual  in  mammals. 
The  position  of  all  the  unsymmetrical  viscera  is  transposed, 
the  spleen  and  cardiac  end  of  the  stomach  going  to  the 
right  side,  the  liver  to  the  left,  the  cecum  resting  on  the 
left  iliac  fossa,  and  the  sigmoid  flexure  of  the  colon  being 
attached  to  the  right.  This  condition  of  tiltie. inversus 
viscemm  need  cause  no  inconvenience ;  and  it  will  probably 
remain  undetected  until  the  occasion  should  arise  for  a 
physical  diagnosis  or  post-mortem  inspection.  There  are 
numerous  other  anomalies  in  the  development  of  the  great 
vessels.  In  the  heart  itself  there  may  be  an  imperfect 
septum  ventriculomm,  and  there  is  more  frequently  a 
patency  of  the  foetal  communication  between  the  auricles, 
permitting  the  venous  blood  to  pass  into  the  arterial 
system,  and  producing  the  livid  appearance  of  the  face 
loiown  as  cyanosis. 

The  causes  of  congenital  anomalies  are  di£Scult  to  specify. 
There  is  no  doubt  that,  in  some  cases,  they  are  present  in 
the  sperm  or  germ  of  the  parent ;  the  same  anomalies 
recur  in  several  children  of  a  family,  and  it  has  been 
found  possible,  through  a  variation  of  the  circumstances, 
to  trace  the  influence  in  some  cases  to  the  father  alone, 
and  in  other  cases  to  the  mother  alone.  The  remarkable 
thing  in  this  parental  influence  is  that  the  malformation 
in  the  child  may  not  have  been  manifested  in  the  body  of 
either  parent,  or  in  the  grandparents.  More  often  the 
malformation  is  acquired  by  the  embryo  and  fcetus  in  the 
course  of  development  and  growth,  either  through  the 
mother  or  in  itself  independently.  Maternal  impressions 
during  pregnancy  have  often  been  alleged  as  a  cause,  and 
this  causation  has  been  discussed  at  great  length  by  the 
best  authorities.  The  general  opinion  seems  to  be  that  it 
is  impossible  to  set  aside  the  influence  of  subjective  states 
of  the  mother  altogether.  The  doctrine  of  maternal  impres- 
f  ions  has  often  been  resorted  to  when  any  other  explana- 
tion was  either  difficult  or  inconvenient;  thus,  Hippocrates 
is  said  to  have  saved  the  virtue  of  a  woman  who  gave 
birth  to  a  black  child  by  pointing  out  that  there  was  a 
picture  of  a  negro  on  the  wall  of  her  chamber.  Injuries 
to  the  mother  during  pregnancy  have  been  unquestion- 
ably the  cause  of  certain  malformations,  especially  of 
congenital  hydrocephalus.  The  embryo  itself  and  its 
membranes  may  become  the  subject  of  inflammations, 
atrophies,  hypertrophies,  and  the  like;  this  causation, 
to  which  Otto  traced  all  malformations  of  the  foetus,  is 
doubtless  accountable  for  a  good  many  of  them.  But  a 
very  large  residue  of  malformations  must  still  be  referred 
to  no  more  definite  cause  than  the  erratic  spontaneity  of 
the  embryonic  celb  and  cell-groups.  The  nisus  formativus 
of  the  fertilized  ovum  is  always  made  subject  to  morpho- 
logical laws,  but,  just  as  in  extra-uterine  life,  there  may 
t  c  deviations  from  the  beaten  track ;  and  even  a  slight 
<'eviation  at  an  early ^tape  will  carry  vi-ith  it  far-reaching  I 


consequences.     This  is  particularly  noticeable  in  donbU 
monsters. 

2.  Double  Monsters. — Twins  are  the  physiological  analogy 
of  double  monsters,  and  some  of  the  latter  have  come  very 
near  to  being  two  separate  individuals.  Triple  monsters 
are  too  rare  to  dwell  upon,  but  their  analogy  would  be 
triplets.  The  Siamese  twins,  who  died  in  1874  at  the 
age  of  sixty,  were  joined  only  by  a  thick  fleshy  ligament 
from  the  lower  end  of  the  breast-bone  (xiphoid  cartilage), 
having  the  common  navel  on  its  lower  border ;  the  anatom- 
ical examination  showed,  however,  that  a  process  of  peri- 
toneum extended  through  the  ligament  from  one  abdominal 
cavity  to  the  other,  and  that  the  blood-vessels  of  the  two 
livers  were  in  free  communication  across  the  same  bridge. 
There  are  one  or  two  cases  on  record  in  which  such  a  liga- 
ment has  been  cut  at  birth,  one,  at  least,  of  the  twins 
surviving.  From  the  most  intelligible  form  of  double 
monstrosity,  like  the  Siamese  twins,  there  m9  all  grades 
of  fantastic  fusion  of  two  individuals  into  one  down  to 
the  truly  marvellous  condition  of  a  small  body  or  fragment 
parasitic  upon  a  well-grown  infant, — the  condition  known 
as  fcettis  in  Joetu,  These  monstrosities  are  deviations,  not 
from  the  usual  kind  of  twin  gestation,  but  from  a  certain 
rarer  physiological  type  of  dual  development.  In  by  far  the 
majority  of  cases  twins  have  separate  uterice  appendages, 
and  have  probably  been  developed  from  distinct  ova ;  but 
in  a  small  proportion  of  (recorded)  cases  there  is  evidence, 
in  the  placental  and  enclosing  stnicturea,  that  the  twins 
had  been  developed  from  two  rudiments  arising  side  by 
side  on  a  single  blastoderm.  It  is  to  the  latter  physiological 
category  that  double  monsters  almost  certainly  belong ; 
and  there  is  some  direct  embryological  evidence  for  this 
opinion.  AQen  Thomson  observed  in  the  blastoderm  of  a 
hen's  egg  at  the  sixteenth  or  eighteenth  hour  of  incubation 
two  "  primitive  traces  "  or  rudiments  of  the  backbone  form- 
ing side  by  side ;  and  in  a  goose's  egg  incubated  five  days  ha 
found  on  one  blastoderm  two  embryos,  each  with  the  rudi- 
ments of  upper  and  lower  extremities,  crossing  or  cohering 
in  the  region  of  the  future  neck,  and  with  only  one  heart 
between  them.  Somewhat  similar  observations  had  been 
previously  published  (four  cases  in  all)  by  Wolffi  Von  Baer, 
and  Beichert.  Malformations  in  the  earliest  stages  of  the 
blastoderm  have  been  more  frequently  observed  of  late, 
especially  in  the  ova  of  the  pike ;  and  these  point  not  so 
much  to  a  symmetrical  doubling  of  the  primitive  trace  as  to 
irregular  budding  from  the  margin  of  the  germinal  disc.  In' 
any  case,  the  perfect  physiological  type  appears  to  be  two 
rudiments  on  one  blastoderm,  whose  entirely  separate  de- 
velopment produces  twins  (under  their  rarer  circumstances), 
whose  nearly  separate  development  produces  such  double 
monsters  as  the  Siamese  tvrins,  and  whose  less  separate 
development  produces  the  various  grotesque  forms  of  two 
individuals  in  one  body.  There  can  be  no  question  of  a 
literal  fusion  of  two  embryos ;  either  the  individuality  of 
each  was  at  no  time  complete,  or,  if  there  were  two  dis- 
tinct primitive  traces,  the  uni-axial  type  was  approximately 
reverted  to  in  the  process  of  development,  as  in  the  forma- 
tion of  the  abdominal  and  thoracic  viscera,  limbs,,  pelvis,  or 
head.  Double  monsters  are  divided  in  the  first  instance 
into  those  in  which  the  doubling  is  symmetrical  and  equal 
on  the  two  sides,  and  those  in  which  a  small  or  fragment- 
ary fcetus  is  attached  to  or  enclosed  in  a  fcetus  of  average 
development, — the  latter  class  being  the  so-called  cases  of 
"  parasitism." 

Symmetrical  Double  Monsters  are  subdivided  according 
to  the  part  or  region  of  the  body  where  the  union  or  fusion 
exists — head,  thorax,  umbilicus,  or  pelvis.  One  of  the 
simplest  cases  is  a  Janus  head  upon  a  single  body,  or  there 
maybe  two  pairs  of  ami:*  with  the  two  laces.  Again,  there 
may  be  one  head  with  two  nec'is  and  two  complete  trunks. 


766 


M  O  N  — M.  O  N 


and  pairs  of  extremities.  Two  distinct  heads  (witli  moie 
or  less  of  neck)  may  surmount  a  singio  trunk,  broad  at  tho 
shoulders  but  with  onlj'  one  pair  of  arms.  The  fusion, 
again,  may  be  from  the  middle  of  the  thorax  downwards, 
giving  two  heads  and  two  pairs  of  shoulders  and  arms,  but 
only  one  trunk  and  one  pair  of  legs.  In  another  variety, 
the  body  may  be  double  down  to  tlie  waist,  but  the  pelvis 
and  lower  limbs  single.  The  degree  of  union  in  the  region 
of  the  head,  abdomen,  or  pelvis  may  be  so  slight  as  to  permit 
of  two  distinct  organs  or  sets  of  organs  in  the  respective 
cavities,  or  so  great  as  to  have  the  viscera  in  common ;  and 
there  is  hardly  ever  an  intermediate  condition  between  those 
extremes.  Thus,  in  the  Janus  head  there  may  be  two 
brains,  or  only  one  brain.  The  Siamese  twins  are  an  instance 
of  union  at  the  umbilical  region,  with  the  viscera  distinct 
in  every  respect  except  a  alight  vascular  anastomosis  and 
a  common  process  of  peritoneum  ;  but  it  is  more  usual  for 
union  in  that  region  to  be  more  extensive,  and  to  entail  a 
single  set  of  abdominal  and  thoracic  viscera.  The  pelvis 
is  one  of  the  commonest  regions  for  double  monsters  to 
be  joined  at,  and,  as  in  the  head  and  abdomen,  the 
junction  may  be  slight  or  tota.1.  The  Hungarian  sisters 
Helena  and  Judith  (1701-1723)  were  joined  at  the  sacrum, 
but  had  the  pelvic  cavity  and  pelvic  organs  separate ;  the 
same  condition  obtained  in  the  South  Carolina  negressea 
MiUie  and  Christina,  known  as  the  "  two-headed  nightin- 
gale," and  in  the  other  recent  cs^e  of  the  Bohemian  sisters 
Rosalie  and  Joaepha.  More  usually  the  union  in  the 
pelvic  region  is  complete,  and  produces  the  most  fantastic 
shapes  of  two  trunks  (each  with  head  and  arms)  joining 
below  at  various  angles,  and  with  three  or  four  lower  limbs 
extending  from  the  region  of  fusion,  sometimes  in  a  lateral 
direction,  sometimes  downwards.  A  very  curious  kind  of 
double  monster  is  produced  by  two  otherwise  distinct 
foetuses  joining  at  the  crown  of  the  head  and  keeping  the 
axis  of  their  bodies  in  a  Une.  It  is  only  in  rare  instances 
that  double  monsters  survive  their  bii'th,  and  the  preserved 
specimens  of  them  are  mostly  of  fretal  si^e. 

Unequal  Double  Monsters,  Fastis,  in.  Foetu. — There  are 
some  well-authenticated  instances  of  this  most  curious  of 
all  anomalies.  The  most  celebrated  of  these  parasite- 
bearing  monsters  was  a  Genoese,  Lazarus  Johannes  Baptista 
Colloredo,  bom  in  1716,  who  was  figured  as  a  child  by 
Licetus,  and  again  by  Bartholinus  at  the  age  of  twenty- 
eight  as  a  young  man  of  average  stature.  The  parasite 
adhered  to  the  lower  end  of  his  breast-bone,  and  was  a 
tolerably  well-formed  child,  wanting  only  one  leg;  it 
breathed,  slept  at  intervals,  and  moved  its  body,  but  it 
had  no  separate  nutritive  functions.  The  parasite  is  more 
apt  to  be  a  miniatm'e  acardiac  and  acephalous  fragment, 
as  in  the  case  of  the  one  borne  in  front  of  ther  abdomen 
of  a  Chinaman  figured  by  I.  Geoffroy  St-Hilaire.  Some- 
times the  parasite  is  contained  in  a  pouch  under  the  skin 
of  the  abdominal  wall,  and  in  another  class  (of  which 
there  is  a  specimen  in  the  Hunterian  Museum)  it  has 
actually  been  included,  by  tho  closure  of  tho  ventral  laminre, 
within  the  abdominal  cavity  of  the  foetus, — a  true  /cetus 
mfortu.  Shapeless  parasitic  fragments  containing  masses 
of  bone,  cartilage,  and  other  tissue  are  found  also  in  tho 
space  behind  the  breast-bone  (mediastinal  teratoma),  or 
growing  from  the  base  of  the  skull  and  protruding  through 
tho  mouth  i''  epignathous  teratoma,"  appearing  to  be  seated 
on  the  jaw),  and,  most  frequently  of  all,  attached  to  the 
Rocrum.  These  last  pass  by  a  most  interesting  transition 
into  common  forms  of  congenital  sacral  tumoiu-a  (which, 
may  be  of  enormous  size),  consisting  mainly  of  one  kind 
of  tissue  having  its  physiological  typo  in  tho  curious  gland- 
like  body  (coccygeal  gland)  in  which  the  middle  sacral  artery 
comes  to  an  end.  The  congenital  sacraJ  tumours  have  a 
tendency  to  become  cystic,  and  thoy  are  probably  related  to 


the  more  perfect  congenital  cysts  of  tho  neck  region,  where 
there  is  another  minute  gland-like  body  of  the  same  nature 
as  the  coccygeal  at  the  point  of  bifurcation  of  the  conunoi» 
carotid  artei-y.  Other  tumours  of  the  body,  especially 
certain  of  the  sarcomatous  class,  may  be  regarded  from 
the  point  of  view  of  moiistra  per  excesswm ;  but  such  cases 
suggest  not  bo  much  a  question  of  aberrant  development 
■n'ithin  the  blastoderm  as  of  tho  indwelling  spontaneity  of 
a  single  post-embryonic  tissue ;  and  they  fall  to  be  con-i 
sidered  more  properly,  along  with  tumours  in  general,  ini 
the  article  Pathology  (q.v.). 

The  scientific  appreciation  of  monsters  hardly  hegan  before  tho 
18th  century  ;  even  so  gi-eat  a  rationaUst  in  surgical  practice  as 
Ambroise  PariS  (1617-1690),  although  he  rtaa  attracted  as  a  echolitr 
in  later  life  to  the  subject,  did  not  advance  iu  it  uiateriaUy  beyond 
tlie  fantastic  and  credulous  staudpdint  of  the  time,  which  is  exems 
plified  in  the  elaborate  treatise  of  Lycostheues,  Pradigiorum  ac  oslen^ 
tonim  ckroniccm,  Basal,  1557.  Throughout  tlie  17th  century  fabulous 
monsters  continued  to  be  described  along  v/ith  actual  specimens  ; 
the  embryological  studies  of  Harvey  (1651)  were  doubtless  calculated 
to  help  iu  the  growth  of  rational  opinion  about  monsters,  though 
Harvey  himself  mentions  them  only  casually.  The  first  syatematid 
discussion  of  them  from  a  strictly  objective  or  anatomical  point  o2 
view  occurs  in  various  writings  of  Haller  from  1735  to  1753,  and 
the  subject  continued  after  that  to  engage  a  large  amount  of  precLio 
and  philosophical  thought  on  the  part  of  Caspar  Friedrich  WolU 
(1735-179'1),  who  first  stated  the  relation  of  mgnatrosities  to  em^. 
bryonic  deviations  in  words  that  even  now  hardly  requii-e  to  be 
altered,  and  of^Blumenbach,  Somrnering,  Autenrieth,  Tiedemann, 
and  others.  The  ongroaaing  interest  of  the  subject  in  the  early 
part  of  the  19th  century  is  shown  by  the  fact  that.  J.  P.  Meckel  a 
Bandhuch  der  -patkolojischen  Aiuximnie  (1817)  was  largely  occupied 
with  congenital  malformationa.  Geofiroy  St-HiJaire,  the  father, 
gave  them  a  prominent  place  in  his  Philosophie  Anat(ymique  (Pans, 
1822),  and  his  son  Isidore  made  them  the  subject  of  a  special  and 
very  elaborate » treatise  in  3  vols.  (Paris,  1832-37),  illustrated  by  a 
small  and  iuade<|uate  atlas  of  plates.  Monstrosities  were  at  this 
period  a  prominent  part  of  all  test-books  of  morbid  anatomy.  Fronx 
1840  to  1850  may  be  regarded  as  the  period  in  which  human  tera- 
tology reached  its  highest  point ;  in  1810-42  the  special  tieatise  of 
Vrolik  was  published  (2  vols.,  Amsterdam),  containing  an  introduc- 
tion on  the  normal  development,  and  Ids  sumptuous  and  incompar- 
able atlas  to  the  same  followed  in  1849  ;  iu  1841  Otto  published  at 
Warsaw  a  description  of  600  monatora  with  30  folio  platea  ;  and  in 
1842  the  embryologist  Bischofl"  conti-ibuted  to  "Wagner's  Handwort- 
erbuch  der  Physiologie,  voL  L,  an  article  on  teratology  as  elucidated 
by  the  best  information  on  mammalian  development  An  article 
by  Allen  Thomson  in  the  London  and  Edinhurgh  Monthly  Journal 
of  Medical  Scit^ice,  July  1844,  followed  by  a  criticai  survey  in  tho 
next  number,  is  of  the  first  impoi-tance  for  the  theory  of  double 
monsters,  and  it  is  one  of  the  few  notable  Enghsb  contributions  to 
animal  teratologyapart  from  museum  catalogues, — thegenerai  article 
in  Todd's  Cycl&pmdia  of  A  natomy  and  Pkysioloijy  having  been  written 
by  Vrolik,  while  the  special  subject  of  Hermaphroditism  is  treated 
of  in  a  long  and  learned  article  by  J.  Y.  Simpson  (reprinted  in  his 
collected  works).  One  of  the  latest  important  works  on  moustera 
is  that  by  Forster  (Jena,  1861),  I)ic  Misihildungen  dcs  Mensdicn 
systcmalisch  dargcstclU,  with  an  atlas  of  2ti  4  to  phtes  containing 
624  figures  (on  a  small  scale),  of  which  162  were  drau-n  from  original 
specimens,  mostly  in  tho  Wiirzburg  Museum  ;  this  work  has  a  very 
great  variety  of  illustrations  from  all  som'ces,  and  most  copious 
bibliographical  references.  The  newest  treatise  is  Ahlfeld's  Mus- 
hildungen  dcs  Mcnscheti  (Leipsic,  1880-82),  with  an  extensive  atlas 
of  folio  platea,  aa  comprehensive  aa  Forster's  and  on  a  larger  scale. 
Monsters  have  of  late  been  assigned  a  comparatively  subordinate 
position  in  pathological  teaching,  owing,  doubtless,  to  the  more  im- 
mediate interest  of  microscopic  and  experimental  patholo[;y.  Among 
recent  pathological  text-books  that  of  Perls  (Stuttgart,  1877-79) 
may  bo  named  as  containing  an  adequate  treatment  of  the  subieot. 
The  two  most  considerable  contributors  to  teratology  recently  have 
been  Panum  (Doriin,  1860),  and  Darcste  (Paris,  1877),  both  of  whom 
have  occupied  themselves  mainly  with  producing  monstrosities  arti- 
ficially in  the  bird's  egg  by  varying  the  temperature  in  the  hatching 
oven.  See  also  L.  Gerlach,  Z)ie  E?itst<hungsjc<  ise  der  Doppclmissbit- 
dungen  bei  dtn  h>Hcmi  Wirlclthicrcn,  Stuttgart,  188S.      (C.  C.) 

MONSTRELET,  ENcmiKKAiCT)  de  (oi.  1453)  (who, 
rather  owing  to  accident  than  to  merit,  held,  until  within 
the  present  century,  the  same  position  as  chronicler  of 
French  affairs  during  the  early  part  of  the  ir>th  century 
OS  Froissart  deservedly  holds  with  regard  to  the  last  half 
of  the  14th),  was  bom  at  an  uncertain  date,  apparently 
not  Inter  than  1400,  a»d  die!  in  July  14.')3.     He  was  ol 


jtt.P  1^;— -^  0  N 


767 


k  nobie  family  in  the  district  of  Bonlogne.  He  held  in 
U36.  and  '.ater,  the  office  of  lieutenant-gavenier  (receiver 
of  the  -/us.'e,  a  kind  of  ciiuich  rate)  in  the  city  of  Cambray, 
and  seems  to  have  usually  resided  there. :  Besides  this  he 
,«ras  for  somo  time  baUifif  of  the  chapter  of  that  city,  and 
later  provost.  He  was  married,  and  left  children.  But 
this-  ahnost  exhausts  the  amount  of  our  knowledge  respect- 
ing him,  except  that  he  was  present,  not  at  the  capture  of 
the  Maid  of  Orleans,  but  at  her  svibsequent  interview  with 
'the  duke  of  Burgundy.  As  a  subject  of  this  latter  prince 
he  naturally  takes  the  Burgundian  side  in  his  history,  which 
extends  in  the  genuine  part  of  it  to  two  books,  and  covers 
the  period  from  1400  to  Uii.  At  this  time,  as  another 
chronicler  Matthieu  de  Coucy  informs  us,  Monstrelet  ceased 
writing.  But,  according  to  a  habit  by  no  means  uncommon 
in  the  Middle  Ages,  a  clumsy  sequel,  extending  to  a  period 
long  subsequent  to  his  death,  was  formed  out  of  various 
other  chronicles  and  tacked  on  to  his  work.  The  genuine 
part  of  this,  dealing  with  the  last  half  of  the  Hundred  Years 
War,  is  valuable  because  it  contains  a  large  number  of 
documents  which  are  certainly,  and  reported  speeches  which 
are  probably,  authentic.  It  has,  however,  little  colour  or 
narrative  merit,  is  dully,  though  clearly  enough,  written, 
and  is  strongly  tinged  with  the  pedantry  of  its  century, — 
the  most  pedantic  in  French  history.  The  best  edition  is 
that  published  for  the  Soci^t6  de  I'Histoire  de  France  by 
M.  Douet  d'Arcq  in  1856. 

MONTAGU,  Lady  Maky  Woetley  (1690-1762),  one 
of  the  most  brilliant  letter- wTiters  of  the  18th  century,  was 
the  eldest  daughter  of  Evelyn  Pierrepont,  duke  of  Kingston, 
and  Lady  Mary  Fielding,  daughter  of  the  earl  of  Denbigh. 
Her  near  relationship  with  Fielding  the  novelist  is  worth 
remarking.  She  was  bom  at  Thoresby  in  Nottingham- 
shire in  1690.  Her  mother  died  when  she  was  a  child, 
and  by  some  chance  she  received  or  gave  herself  an  un- 
usually wide  literary  education,  had  the  run  of  her  father's 
library,  was  encouraged  in  her  studies  by  Bishop  Burnet, 
and  while  still  a  girl  translated  the  Enchiridion  of  Epic- 
tetus.  After  a  courtship  in  which  she  showed  a  singular 
power  of  thinking  for  herself,  she  was  married  in  1712, 
against  her  father's  wish,  to  Mr.  E.  Wortley  Montagu, 
an  accomplished  and  scholarly  friend  of  the  Queen  Anne 
wits.  At  the  new  court  of  George  I.  her  beauty  and 
wit  brought  her  much  homage ;  Pope  was  among  her 
most  devoted  worshippers,  and  she  even  gained  and  kept 
the  friendship  of  the  great  duchess  of  Marlborough.  Her 
husband  being  appointed  ambassador  to  the  Porte  in 
1716,  she  accompanied  him  to  Constantinople,  and  wTote 
to  her  friends  at  home  brilliant  descriptions  of  Eastern  life 
and  scenery.  These  letters  were  not  published  till  1763, 
!the  year  after  her  death  ;  but,  copies  being  handed  about 
in  fashionable  circles,  their  lively,  witty  style,  graphic 
pictures  of  unfamiliar  life,  and  shrewd  and  daring  judg- 
ments gave  the  writer  instant  celebrity.  In  one  of  them 
she  described  the  practice  of  inoculation  for  the  smallpox, 
and  announced  her  intention  of  trying  it  on  her  own  son, 
and  of  introducing  it  in  spite  of  the  doctors  into  England. 
The  most  memorable  incident  in  her  life  after  her  return 
from  the  East  was  her  quarrel  with  Pope,  caused,  accord- 
ing to  her  account,  by  her  laughing  at  him  when  he  made 
love  to  her  in  earnest.  He  satirized  her  under  the  name 
of  Sappho,  and  she  teased  him  with  superior  ingenuity 
and  hardly  inferior  wit.  From  1739  to  1761  Lady  Mary 
lived  abroad,  apart  from  her  husband,  maintaining  an 
iffectionate  correspondence  with  her  daughter  Lady  Bute, 
in ,  which  she  set  forth  views  of  life  largely  coloured  by 
tthe  asceticism  of  her  master  Epictetus,  and  wearing  an 
jfeppeaftmcs  of  oddity  and  eccentricity  from  their  contrast 
jtvith  conventional  thought.  The  character  of  coldness 
and  un womanliness  whici^  Pope  contrived  to  fasten  on  his 


enemy  was  far  from  being  desei  .cu ;  uer  letters  show  her 
to  have  been  a  very  warm-hearted  w(}man,  though  on 
principle  she  turned  the  hard  side  to  the  world.  She 
died  21st  August  1762.  The  best  edition  of  her  works  is 
that  of  1861,  with  a  memoir  by  Moy  Thomas. 

MONTAIGNE,  Michel  de  (1533-1592),  essayist,  was 
born,  as  he  himself  tells  us,  between  eleven  o'clock  and  noon 
on  28th  February  1533.  The  patronymic  of  the  Montaigne 
family,  who  derived  their  title  from  the  chateau  at  which 
the  essayist  was  born  and  which  had  been  bought  by  his 
grandfather,  was  Eyquem.  It  was  believed  to  be  of  Eng- 
lish origin,  and  the  long  tenure  of  Gascony  and  Guienne  by 
the  English  certainly  provided  abundant  opportunity  for  the 
introduction  of  English  colonists.  But  the  elaborate  re- 
searches of  M.  Malvezin  have  proved  the  existence  of  a 
family  of  Eyquems  or  Ayquems  before  the  marriage  of 
Eleanor  of  Aquitaine  to  Henry  II.  of  England,  though 
no  connexion  between  this  family,  who  were  Sieurs  do 
Lesparre,  M..id  the  essayist's  ancestors  can  be  made  out. 
Montaigne  is  not  far  from  Bordeaux,  and  in  Montaigne's 
time  was  in  the  province  of  Perigord.  It  is  now  in 
the  arrondis'sement  of  Bergerac  and  the  department  of 
Dordogne.  The  Eyquem  family  had  for  some  time  been 
connected  with  Bordeaux.  Indeed,  though  they  possessed 
more  than  one  estate  in  the  district,  they  were  of  doubt- 
ful and  certainly  very  recent  nobility.  Pierre  Eyquem, 
Montaigne's  father,  had  been  engaged  in  commerce  (a 
herring-merchant  Scaliger  calls  him),  had  filled  many 
municipal  offices  in  Bordeaux,  and  had  served  under 
Francis  I.  in  Italy  as  a  soldier.  The  essayist  was  not 
the  eldest  son,  but  the  third.  By  the  death  of  his 
elder  brothers,  however,  he  became  head  of  the  family. 
He  had  also  six  younger  brothers  and  sisters.  His  father 
appears,  like  many  other  men  of  the  time,  to  have  made 
a  hobby  of  education.  Michel  was  not  a  strong  boy, 
indeed  he  was  all  his  life  a  valetudinarian,  and  this  may 
have  esiiecially  prompted  his  father  to  take  pains  with 
him.  At  a  time  when  the  rod  was  the  universal  instru- 
ment of  teaching  it  was  almost  entirely  spared  to 
Montaigne.  He  was,  according  to  the  French  fashion 
common  at  all  times,  put  out  to  nurse  with  a  peasant 
woman.  But  Pierre  Eyquem  added  to  this  the  unusual 
fancy  of  choosing  his  son's  sponsors  from  the  same  class, 
and  of  accustoming  him  to  associate  with  it.  He  was 
taught  Latin  orally  by  servants  who  could  speak  no  French, 
and  many  curious  fancies  were  tried  on  him,  as,  for 
instance,  that  of  waking  him  every  morning  by  soft  music. 
But  he  was  by  no  means  allowed  to  be  idle.  A  plan  of 
teaching  him  Greek,  still  more  out  of  the  common  way 
than  his  Latin  course,  by  some  kind  of  mechanical 
arrangement,  is  not,  very  intelligible,  and  was  quite  un- 
successful. These  detaUs  of  his  education  (which,  like 
most  else  that  is  known  about  him,  come  from  his  own 
mouth)  are  not  only  interesting  in  themselves,  but  remind 
the  reader  how,  not  far  from  the  same  time,  the  other 
greatest  writer  of  French  during  the  Renaissance  was  also 
exercising  himself,  though  not  being  exercised,  in  plans  of 
education  almost  as  fantastic.  At  six  years  oM  (for  the 
father's  reforming  views  in  education  do  not  seem  to  have 
disgusted  him  ^Wth  the  extremely  early  age  at  which  it 
was  then  usual  to  begin  school  training)  Montaigne  was 
sent  to  the  College  tic  Guienne  at  Bordeaux,  then  at  the 
height  of  its  reputation,  having  more  than  double  the 
number  of  scholars  (two  thousand)  that  even  the  largest 
English  public  school  has  usually  boasted.  Among  its 
masters  were  Buchanan,  afterwards  the  teacher  of  James 
I.,  and  MuretuE,  one  of  the  first  scholars  of  the  age.  These, 
vrith  their  colleague  Gu^rente,  composed  Latin  playa  for 
their  pupils  to  act,  and  are  held  to  have  given  no  smalS 
imDulse  to  the  production  of  the  classical  French  tragedy 


768 


MONTAIGNE 


■of  the  Tliiade.  Montaigne  remained  at  school  aeveu  years, 
and,  lite  almost  all  Frenchmen  of  all  fim^s,  retained  no 
pleasant  or  complimentary  memory  of  it.  At  thirteen  he 
left  the  College  de  Guienne  and  began  to  study  law,  it  is 
r.ot  known  where,  but  probably  at  Toulouse,  the  most 
famous  university,  despite  its  religious  intolerance,  of  the 
EDuth  of  France.  Of  his  youth,  early  manhood,  and  middle 
life  extremely  little  is  known.  Allusions  to  it  in  the 
Essays  are  frequent  enough,  but  they  are  rarely  precise. 
In  1548  ho  was  at  Bordeaux  during  one  of  the  frequent 
riots  caused  by  the  gabeUe,  or  salt  tax.  Six  years  afterwards, 
having  attained  his  majority,  he  was  made  a  counsellor  in 
ithe  Bordeaux  parliament.  In  1558  he  was  present  at  the 
siege  of  ThionvUle.  Like  his  father,  he  certainly  served 
in  the  army,  for  he  has  frequent  allusions  to  military 
experiences.  He  was  also  much  about  the  court,  and 
be  admits  very  frankly  that  in  his  youth  he  led  a  life  of 
pleasure,  if  not  exactly  of  excess.  In  1566  he  married 
Fran^oise  de  la  Chassaigne,  whose  father  was,  like  himself, 
a  member  of  the  Bordeaux  parliament.  Three  years  later 
1  is  father  died,  and  he  succeeded  to  the  family  possessions. 
Finally,  in  1571,  as  he  teUs  us  in  an  inscription  still  extant, 
he  retired  to  Montaigne  to  take  up  his  abode  there.  This 
was  the  turning-point  of  his  life. 

It  has  been  said  that  his  health  was  never  strong,  and 
it  had  been  further  weakened  by  the  hard  living  (in  both 
censes  of  that  phrase)  which  was  usual  at  the  time.  He 
resolved,  accordingly,  to  retire  to  a  life  of  study  and  con- 
templation, though  he  did  not  in  the  least  seclude  himself, 
and  indulged  in  no  asceticism  except  careful  diet.  Mon- 
taigne was  a  large  country  house  unfortified  (in  which 
circumstance  its  astute  possessor  saw  rather  safety,  than 
danger  from  the  turbulence  of  the  religious  wars),  and  its 
owner's  revenues,  without  being  large,  appear  to  have  been 
easy.  He  neither  had  nor  professed  any  enthusiastic 
affection  for  his  wife,  but  he  lived  on  excellent  terms  with 
her,  and  bestowed  some  pains  on  the  education  of  the  orJy 
child  (a  daughter)  who  survived  infancy.  In  his  study, 
■which  he  has  minutely  described,  he  read,  wrote,  dictated, 
tneditated,  inscribed  moral  sentences,  which  still  remain  on 
the  walls  and  rafters,  and  in  other  ways  gave  himself  up 
to  learned  ease.  He  was  not  new  to  literature.  In  his 
father's  lifetime,  and  at  his  request,  he  had  translated  the 
Wheologia  Naturalis  of  Raymond  de  Sebonde,  a  Spanish 
schoolman.  On  fij-st  coming  to  live  at  Montaigne  he 
edited  the  works  of  his  deceased  friend  iltienne  de  la 
iBo^tie,  who  had  been  the  comrade  of  his  youth,  who  died 
early,  and  who,  with  poems  of  real  promise,  had  composed 
B  declamatory  and  schoolboyish  theme  on  republicanism, 
entitled  the  Contr'  Un,  which  is  one  of  the  most  over- 
estimated books  in  literatirre.  But  the  years  of  his 
studious  retirement  were  spent  on  a  work  of  infinitely 
greater  importance.  Garrulous  after  a  fashion,  as  Mon- 
taigne is,  he  gives  us  no  clear  idea  of  any  original  or 
definite  impulse  leading  him  to  write  the  famous  Essays. 
It  is  very  probable  that  if  they  were  at  first  intended  to 
have  any  special  form  at  all  it  was  that  of  a  table-book 
or  journal,  such  as  was  never  more  commonly  kept  than 
in  the  16ih  century.  But  the  author  must  have  been 
more  or  less  conscious  of  an  order  existing  in  the  disorder 
of  his  thoughts,  and  this  may  have  induced  him  to  keep 
them  apart  in  chapters,  or  at  Ici-st  under  chapter-headings, 
and  at  the  same  time  not  to  cut  them  up  into  mere  2i^i''sces. 
It  is  certainly  very  noticeable  that  the  earlier  essays,  those 
of  the  first  two  books,  differ  from  the  later  in  one  most 
striking  point,  in  that  of  length.  Speaking  generally,  the 
essays  of  the  third  book  aver.age  fully  four  times  the 
length  of  those  of  the  other  two.  This  of  itself  would 
suggest  a  difference  in  the  system  of  composition.  For 
the  present,  however,  we  may  confine  oiu-selves  to  the  first 


two  books.     These  appeared  in  1580,  when  their  author 
was  forty-seven  yearn  old 

Thoy  contain,  as  at  T-escnt  published,  no  less  than  ninety-thr6« 
essays,  besides  an  cxcieiiiagly  long  apology  for  the  already-men- 
tioned Raymond  Sebonde,  which  amounts  to  about  a  quarter  of  the 
whole  in  bulk,  and  dilTers  ciniously  from  its  companions  in  matter 
no  less  than  in  scale.  The  book  bemns  with  a  snort  avis  (address 
to  the  reader),  opening  with  the  well-known  words,  "  C'est  icy  un 
livre  de  bon  foy  lecteur, "  and  sketching  in  a  few  lively  sentencoa 
the  character  of  meditative  egotism  which  is  kept  up  throughout. 
His  sole  object,  the  author  says,  is  to  leave  for  his  friends  and 
relations  a  mental  portrait  of  himself,  defects  and  all ;  he  cares 
neither  for  utility  nor  fame.  The  essays  then  begin  ■n'ithout  any 
attempt  to  explain  or  classify  their  subjects.  Their  titles  are  of  the 
most  diverse  character.  Sometimes  they  are  proverbial  sayings,  or 
moral  adages,  such  as:  " Par  divers  moyens  on  arrive  ^  pareille  fin", 
**Qu'il  ue  faut  juger  de  notre  heur  qu'apPL'S  la  mort",  "Le  profit  de 
Ton  est  le  dommage  de  I'aultre. "  Sometimes  they  are  headed  like  the 
chapters  of  a  treatise  on  ethics :  **  De  la  tristesse  ",  * '  De  I'oisivet^  ", 
"De  la  peur",  "De  I'amitid."  Sometimes  a  fact  of  some  sort 
which  has  awaked  a  train  of  associations  in  the  mind  of  the  writer 
serves  as  a  title,  such  as:  "  On  est  puni  de  ^'opiniastrer  h.  une  place 
sans  raison  ",  "  De  la  bataille  de  Dreux  ",  &c.  Occasionally  the  titiM 
seem  to  be  deliberately  fantastic,  as  :  "  Des  puces  ",  "  De  I'usage  de 
se  vestir. "  Sometimes,  though  not  very  often,  the  sections  are  in  no 
proper  sense  essays,  but  merely  commonplace  book  entries  of  singular 
facts  or  quotations  with  hardly  any  comment.  These  point  to 
the  haphazard  or  indirect  origin  of  them  which  has  been  already 
suggested.  But  generally  the  essay-character — that  is  to  say,  the 
discussion  of  a  special  point,  it  may  be  with  wide  digressions  and 
divergences — displays  itself.  The  digressions  are  indeed  constant, 
and  sometimes  have  the  appearance  of  being  absolutely  wilful. 
The  nominal  title,  even  when  most  strictly  observed,  is  rarely  more 
than  a  starting-point ;  and,  though  the  brevity  of  these  first  essays 
for  the  most  part  prevents  the  author  from  journeying  very  far,  he 
contrives  to  get  to  the  utmost  range  of  his  tether.  Quotations  are 
very  frequent.  These  are  the  principal  external  characteristics  of 
the  book  ;  its  internal  spirit  had  better  bo  treated  when  it  can  bo 
spoken  of  completely. 

Between  the  publication  of  the  first  two  books  of  essays 
in  1580  and  the  publication  of  the  third  in  1588,  Mon- 
taigne's life  as  distinguished  from  his  writings  becomes 
somewhat  better  known,  and  somewhat  more  interesting. 
He  had,  during  the  eight  years  of  composition  of  his  first 
volume,  visited  Paris  occasionally  and  travelled  for  health 
or  pleasure  to  Cauterets,  Eaux  Chaudes,  and  elsewhere. 
Charles  IX.,  apparently,  had  made  him  one  of  his  gentle- 
men in  ordinary,  and  perhaps  conferred  on  him  the  order 
of  St  Michael.  The  fiercest  period  of  the  religious  wars, 
save  that  yet  to  come  of  the  League,  passed  over  him  with- 
out harming  him,  though  not  without  subjecting  him  to 
some  risks.  But  his  health  grew  worse  and  worse,  and  he 
was  tormented  by  stone  and  gravel.  He  accordingly  re- 
solved to  journey  to  the  baths  of  Lucca.  Late  in  Ae  18th 
century  a  journal  was  found  in  the  chateau  of  Montaigne, 
giving  an  account  of  this  journey,  and  it  was  published  in 
1774;  par-t  of  it  is  -written  in  Italian  and  part  dictated 
in  French,  the  latter  being  for  the  mo.st  part  the  work 
of  a  secretary  or  servant.  Whatever  may  be  the  biographi- 
cal value  of  this  work,  which  has  rarely  been  reprinted 
with  the  Essays  themselves,  it  is  almost  entirely  destitute 
of  literary  interest.  Written,  moreover,  according  to  its 
own  showing  merely  for  the  author's  own  eye,  it  contains 
abundance  of  details  as  to  the  medicinal  effect  of  the 
various  baths  which  he  visited,  details  which  may  be  said 
to  be  superfluous  to  a  medical  reader,  and  disgusting  to 
any  other.  The  course  of  the  journey  was  first  north- 
wards to  Plombicres,  then  by  Basel  to  Augsburg  and 
Munich,  then  through  Tyrol  to  Verona  and  Padua  in  Italy. 
Montaigne  -visited  most  of  the  famous  cities  of  the  north 
and  centre,  staying  five  months  at  Rome,  and  finally 
establishmg  himself  at  the  baths  of  Lucca  for  nearly  as 
Ion"  a  time.  There  he  received  news  of  his  election  as 
mayor  of  Bordeaux,  and  after  some  time  journeyed  home- 
wards. The  tour  contains  much  minute  information  about 
roads,  food,  travelling,  i'C,  but  the  singidar  ^condition  in 
which  it  exists,  and  the  absence  of  a  really  good  critical 


MOKTAIGNE 


'6'9 


edition  liitherto,  make  it  rather  difficult  to  use  it  as  a 
document.  The  freak  of  writing  part  of  it  in  a  strange 
dog-Italian  is  not  uncharacteristic  of  Montaigne,  but  the 
words  of  his  last  and  best  editors,  MM.  Courbet  and 
Royer,  who  speak  of  the  letters  as  "  I'unique  complement 
des  essais,"  seem  to  indicate  that  they  are  not  of  those 
who  accept  the  published  Voyage  as  authentic.  Of  the 
fact  of  the  journey  there  is  no  doubt  whatever. 

Montaigne  (as  was  not  unnatural  in  a  man  of  his  tempera- 
ment, who  had  for  some  years,  if  not  for  the  greater  part 
of  his  life,  lived  solely  to  please  himself)  was  not  altogether 
delighted  at  his  election  to  the  mayoralty,  which  promised 
him  two  years  of  responsible  if  not  very  hard  work.  The 
memory  of  his  father,  however,  and  the  commands  of  the 
king,  which  seem  to  have  been  expressed  in  a  manner  rather 
stronger  than  a  mere  formal  confirmation,  induced  him  to 
accept  it ;  and  he  seems  to  have  discharged  it  neither  better 
nor  worse  Ihan  an  average  magistrate.  Indeed,  he  gave 
sufficient  satisfaction  to  the  citizens  to  be  re-elected  at  the 
close  of  his  term,  and  it  may  be  suspected  that  the  honour 
of  the  position,  which  was  really  one  of  considerable  dignity 
and  importance,  was  not  altogether  indifferent  to  him. 
Unfortunately,  it  cannot  be  said  that  nothing  in  his  office 
became  Viim  like  the  leaving  of  it,  for  it  was  at  the  close 
of  his  second  tenure  that  he  gave  the  only  sign  of  the 
demoralizing  effect  which  is  sometimes  alleged  by  severe 
moralists  to  come  of  the  half  epicurean,  half  sceptical  philo- 
sophy which  he  imdoubtedly  professed.  It  was  his  business, 
if  not  exactly,  his  duty,  to  preside  at  the  formal  election  of 
his  successor,  the  marechal  de  Matignon  ;  but  there  was  a 
severe  pestilence  in  Bordeaux,  and  Montaigne  writes  to  the 
jurats  of  that  town,  in  one  of  the  few  undoubtedly  authentic 
letters  which  "we  possess,  to  the  effect  that  he  will  leave 
them  to  judge  whether  his  presence  at  the  election  is  so 
necessary  as  to  make  it  worth  his  while  to  expose  himself 
to  the  danger  of  going  into  the  town  in  its  then  condition, 
"  which  is  specially  dangerous  for  men  coming  from  a  good 
air  as  he  does."  That  is  to  say,  the  chief  magistrate  of  one 
of  the  greatest  towns  in  France  not  only  declined  to  visit 
it  because  of  sickness  prevailing  there,  but  had  left  it  to 
itself  at  a  time  when  nearly  half  the  population  perished, 
and  when,  according  to  the  manners  of  the  age,  civil  dis- 
turbance was  almost  sure  to  follow  accordingly.  Attempts 
have  been  made  to  justify  Montaigne,  and  it  may  be  at 
least  said  that  he  at  no  time  pretended  to  unselfish  heroism ; 
but  it  is  to  be  feared  that  the  facts  and  the  inference  drawn 
from  them  admit  of  no  dispute.  At  the  least,  Montaigne's 
conduct  must  be  allowed  to  contrast  very  little  to  his 
advantage  with  that  of  Eotrou  in  the  next  century  under 
somewhat  similar  circumstances  though  in  a  position  of 
much  less  responsibility.  It  may,  however,  be  urged  in 
Montaigne's  favour  that  the  general  circumstances  of  the 
time,  where  they  did  not  produce  reckless  and  foolhardy 
daring,  almost  necessarily  produced  a  somewhat  excessive 
caution.  The  League  was  on  the  point  of  attaining  its 
greatest  power;  the  extreme  Calvinist  and  Navarrese  party, 
on  the  other  side,  was  (as  may  be  seen  in  Agrippa  d'Aubign^) 
no  less  fanatical  than  the  League  itself,  and  the  salvation 
of  France  seemed  to  lie  in  the  third  party  of  politiques,  or 
trimmers,  to  which  Montaigne  belonged.  The  capital 
motto  of  this  party  was  that  of  the  Scotch  saying,  "  Jouk 
and  let  the  jaw  gang  by,"  and  the  continual  habit  of  parry- 
ing and  avoiding  political  dangers  might  be  apt  to  extend 
itself  to  dangers  other  than  political  However  this  may 
be,  Montaigne  had  difficulty  enough  during  this  turbulent 
period,  all  the  more  so  from  his  neighbourhood  to  the  chief 
haunts  and  possessions  of  Henry  of  Navarre.  He  was 
able,  however,  despite  the  occupations  of  his  journey,  his 
mayoralty,  and  the  pressure  of  civil  war  and  pestilence, 
which  was  not  confined  to  the  town,  to '  continue  his  essay 


writing,  and  In  1588,  after  a  TOit  of  some  length  to  Paris, 
the  third  book  of  the  Essays  was  published,  together  with 
the  former  ones  considerably  revised.  The  new  essays,  aa 
has  been  remarked,  differ  strikingly  from  the  older  ones  in 
respect  of  length ;  there  being  only  one  which  confines 
itself  to  the  average  of  those  in  the  first  two  books.  The 
whimsical  unexpectedness  of  the  titles,  moreover,  reappears 
in  but  two  of  them :  "  Des  coches "  and  "  Des  boiteux.* 
They  are,  however,  identical  with  the  earlier  ones  in  spirit, 
and  make  with  them  a  harmonious  whole — a  book  which' 
has  hardly  been  second  in  influence  to  any  of  the  modem 
world. 

This  influence  is  almost  equally  remarkable  in  point  of  mattei 
and  in  point  of  form,  as  regaras  the  subsequent  history  of  thought 
and  as  regards  the  subsequent  history  of  literature.    The  latter  aspect 
may  be  taken  first.     Montaigne  is  one  of  the  few  great  writers  whc 
have  not  only  perfected  but  have  also  invented  a  literary  form. 
The  essay  as  he  gave  it  had  no  forerunner  in  modern  literature,  and 
no  direct  ancestor  in  the  literature  of  classical  times.     It  is  indeed 
not  improbable  that  it  owes  something  to  the  body  of  tractates  by 
different  a?  '*  -rs  and  of  different  dates,  which  goes  under  the  name 
of  Plutarch's  Morals,  and  it  also  bears  some  resemblance  to  the 
miscellaneous  work  of  Lucian.     But  the  resemblance  is  in  both  cased 
at  most  that  of  ^suggestion.      The  peculiar  desultoriness  and  tenta- 
tive character  of  the  essay  proper  were  alien  to  the  orderly  character 
of  the  Greek  mind,  as  were  also  its  garrulity  and  the  tendency  which 
it  has  rather  to  reveal  the  idiosyncrasy  of  the  writer  than  to  deal  in 
a  systematic  manner  with  the  peculiarities  of  the  subject.      It  has 
been  suggested  that  the  foi-m  which  the  essays  assumed  was  in  a 
way  accidental,  and  this  of  itself  precludes  the  idea  of  a  definite 
model  even  if  such  a  model  could  be  found.      Beginning  with  the 
throwing  together  of  a  few  stray  thoughts  and  quotations  linked 
by  a  community  of  subject,  the  author  by  degrees  acquires  more 
and  more  certainty  of  hand,  until  he  produces  such  masterpieces  of 
apparent  desultoriness  and  real  imity  as  the  essay  "  Sur  des  vers  da 
Virgile."      In  matter  of  style  and  language  Montaigne's  position  is 
equally  important,  but  the  ways  winch  led  him  to  it  are  mor« 
clearly  traceable.     His  favourite  author  was  beyond  all  doubt  Plu- 
tarch, and  his  own  explicit  confession  makes  it  undeniable  that 
Plutarch's  translator  Ainyot  was  his  master  in  point  of  vocabulary, 
and  (so  far  as  he  took  any  lessons  in  it)  of  style.     Amyot  was 
unquestionably  one  of  the  most  remarkable  writers  of  French  in 
the  16th  century,  and  to  him  more  than  to  any  one  else  is  due 
the  beauty  of  the  prose  style  which   marked  the  second  half  of 
that  century,  a  style  which,  though  unequal  and  requiring  to  b« 
modified  for  general  use,  is  at  its  best  the  very  flower  of  the  lan- 
guage.   Montaigne,  however,  followed  with  the  perfect  independence 
that  characteri2ed  him.     He  was  a  contemporary  of  Konsard,  and 
his  first  essays  were  published  when  the  innovations  of  the  Pleiade 
had  fully  established  themselves.     He  adopted  them  to  a  great 
extent,  but  with  much  discrimination,  and  ne  used  his  own  judg- 
ment in  Latinizing  when  he  pleased.     In  the  same  way  he  retained 
archaic  and  provincial  words  with  a  good  deal  of  freedom,  but  by 
no  means  to  excesa      In  the  aixan^ment  as  in  the  selection  of  hia 
language  he  is  equally  original.      There  is  little  or  no  trace  in  him 
of  the  interminable  sentence  which  is  the  drawback  of  early  prose 
in  all  languages  when  it  has  to  deal  with  anj-thing  more  difficult 
to  manage  than  mere  narrative.     He  has  not  the  excessive  classicism 
of  style  which  mars  even  the  fine  prose  of  Calvin,  and  which  makes 
that  of  some  of  Calvin's  followers  intolerably  stiff.     As  a  rule  he  is 
careless  of  definitely  rhythmical  cadence,  though  his  sentences  are 
always  pleasant  to  the  ear.     But  the  principal  characteristic  of 
Montaigne's  prose  style  is  its  remarkable  ease  and  flexibility.     'These 
peculiarities,  calculated  in  themselves  to  exercise  a  salutary  influ- 
ence on  a  language  as  yet  somewhat  undisciplined,  acquired  by 
accident  an  importance  of  an  extraordinary  kind.     A  few  years 
after  Montaigne's  death  a  great  revolution,  as  is  generally  known, 
passed  over  French.     The  criticism  of  Malherbe,  followed  by  the 
establishment  of  the  Academy,  the  minute  grammatical  censures  of 
Vaugelas,  nnd  the  severe  literary  censorship  of  Boileau  turned 
French  in  less  than  three-quarters  of  a  century  f'.om  one  of  the 
freest  languages  in  Europe  to  one  of  the  most  restricted.     The 
Latinisms  and  Gnecisms  of  the  Pleiade  were  tabooed  at  the  same 
time  with  the  most  picturesque  expressions  of  the  older  tongue. 
The  efforts  of  the  refoi-mers  were  directed  above  all  things  to  weed 
and  to  refine,  to  impose  addirional  difficulties  in  the  way  of  writing 
exquisitelv,  at  the  same  time  that,  by  holding  out  a  strictly-defined 
model,  they  assisted  persons  of  little  genius  and  imagination  to 
write  tolerably.     During  this  revolution  only  two  WTitci-s  of  older 
date  held  their  ground,  and  those  two  were  Kabclais  and  Montaigne,— 
Montaigne  being  of  his  nature  more  generally  readable  than  Rabe- 
lais.    The  Essaijs,  the  popularity  of  which  no  academic  censorship 
could  touch,  thus  kept  beforj  the  eyes  of  the  ITth  and  18th  '■c;i- 
turies  a  treasury  of  French  in  which  every  generation  cculd  behold 
XVI.  —  97 


770 


MONTAIGNE 


the  riclies  cl  tbrir  ancfif^tors.-  The  study  cf  them  influenced  all  the 
great  pros?  writorfl  of  France,  and  they  could  not  fail  to  bo  influ- 
enced in  the  di"  ^i^tion  which  it  was  moat  important  that  they  should 
take  by  the  racy  phi-ase,  the  quaint  and  picturesque  vocabulary, 
and  the  unconstrained  constructions  of  Montaigne. 

It  would  be  in-.possible,  however,  for  the  stoutest  defender  of  the 
importance  of  form  in  literature  to  assign  tho  chief  part  in  Mon- 
taigne's influence  to  style.     It  is  the  method  or  rather  the  manner 
of  thinking  of  which  that  style  is  the  garment  which  has  in  reality 
exercised  influence  on  the  world.     Like  all  writers  except  Shake- 
speare, Montaigne  thoroughly  and  completely  exhibit's  the  intellec- 
tual and  moral  complexion  of  his  own  time.     When  he  reached  man- 
hood the  French.  Renaissance  (which  was  perhaps  on  the  whole  the 
.most  characteristic  example  of  that  phenomenon,  the  religious 
element  being  neither  in  excess  as  it  was  in  England  and  Germany, 
nor  in  defect  as  it  had  been  in  Italy)  was  "at  high  water,  and  the  turn 
of  the  tide  was  beginning.     Rabelais,  who  died  when  Montaigne  was 
still  in  early  mannood,  exhibits  the  earlier  and  rising  spiiit,  though 
he  needs  to  be  completed  on  the  poetical  side.     1  he  Renaissance 
had,  as  all  revolts  against  "authority  must  have,  a  certain  sceptical 
element,  but  it  was  not  at  first  by  any  meana  eminently  sceptical. 
Despite  the  hali'  ironical,  half  warning  termination  of  Pardagriiely 
an  immense  confidence  snd  delight,  as  of  the  invader  of  a  promised 
land,  fills  the  pages  of  Rabelais.     He  rejoices  in  his  strength,  in  his 
knowledge,  in  his  freedom,  in  the  pleasures  of  the  flesh  and  the  spirit. 
With  Montaigne  begins  the  age  of  disenchantment.     By  the  time 
at  least  when  he  began  to  meditate  his  essays  in  the  retirement  of 
bis  country  house  it  was  tolerably  certain  that  no  golden  age- was 
about  to  return.     The  Reformation  had  brought  not  peace  but  a 
sword,  and  the  Calvinists  were  as  intolerant  as  the  Catholics.     The 
revival  of  learning  had,  whatever  its.  benefits,  merely  changed  the 
outward  guise  of  pedants  instead  of  extirpating  pedantrj'.     The 
art  of  printing  had  multiplied  rubbish  as  well  as  valuable  matter. 
The  discovery  of  America  had  brought  ruin  to  the  discovered,  and 
disease  and  discord  to  the  discoverei-s.     The  horrors  of  a  disputed 
succession  were  already  threatening  Franco.     These  things  were 
enough  to  make  thoughtful  meu  dubious  about  the  blessings  of 
progress  and  reform  ;  but  the  extreme  dissoluteness  which  charac- 
terized the  private  life  of  the  time  also  brought  about  its  nati'ral 
result  of  satiety.    Physical  science  had  hardly  yet  emerged  to  occupy 
some  active  minds  ;  scholasticism  was  dead,  while  Bacon  and  Des- 
cartes had  not  arisen  ;  nothing  like  a  theory  of  politics  had  been 
evolved,  though  Bodin  and  a  few  others  were  feeling  after  one.     As 
Ihe  earlier  Renaissance  had  specially  occupied  itself  Avith  the  prac- 
tical business  and  pleasures  of  life,  so  the  later  Renaissance  specially 
mused  on  the  vanity  of  this  business  and  these  pleasures.     The  pre- 
disposing circumstances  which  afl"ected  Montaigne  were  thus  likely 
to  incline  him  to  sceptiL-ism,  to  ethical  masings  on  the  vanity  of  life 
and  the  like.     But  to  all  this  there  had  to  be  added  the  peculiarity 
of  his  own  temperament     This  was  a  decidedly  complicated  one, 
and  neglect  of  it  has  led  some  readers  to  adopt  a  more  positive  idea 
of  Montaigne's  scepticism  than  is  fully  justified  by  all  the  facts.    The 
municipality  of  Rome  has  put  up  a  tablet  on  the  house  occupied 
by  Montaigne  during  his  visit  there,  which  speaks  of  him  as  a 
"founder  of  the  new  philosophy."     In   Italian  mouths,  at  the 
present  day  this  is  equivalent  to  an  assertion  that  Montaigne  was 
aa  enemy  of  Christianity.     No  assumption  can  be  more  gratuitous 
or  less   borne  out  by  the   text  of  his  works  and  the  reasonable 
iuferences  to  be  drawn  from  them.     The  attitude  which  he  assumed 
v.aa  no  doubt  ephectic  and  critical  chiefly.     He  decorated  his  study 
at;    Montaigne    with    inscriptions    (still,    by    dint    of    accidental 
pi-eservation  and  restoration  not  accidental,  legible  there),  most  of 
which  are  of  the  most  pessimist  and  sceptical  character.     Eccle- 
uiostes,  Ecclesiasticus,  Horace,  Lucretius,  Sextus  Empiricus,  the 
fragments  of  the  Greek  dramatists  and  philosophers,  are  ransacked 
f>fr  epigraphs  indicating  the  vanity  of  human  reason,  human  wishes, 
humati  belief,  human  thoughts  and  actions  of  every  kind.     In  ouo 
I'urious  essay  (if  indeed  it  is  to  be  called  an  essay),  the  '*  Apologie 
de  Raymond  Sebondo,"  he  has  apparently  amused  himself  with 
•gathering  together,  in  the  shape  of  quotations  as  well  as  of  re- 
flexions, all  that  can  bo  said  against  certainty  in  aesthetics  as  well  as 
in  dogmatics.     But  the  general  tenor  of  the  essays  is  in  complete 
contrast  with  this  sceptical  attitude,  at  least  in  its  more  decided 
form,  and  it  is  worth  notice  that  the  motto  *'  Que  scai-je  ? "  does  not 
appear  on  the  title  page  till  after  tho  writer's  death.     The  general 
disposition,  moreover,  manifested  in  these  famous  writings  is  very 
far  from  being  determinedly  Pyrrbonist  or  despairingly  misanthro- 
pic.    Montaigne   is  far  too  much  occupied  about  all  sorts  of  the 
minutest  details  of  human  life  to  make  it  for  a  moment  admissible 
that  he  regarded  that  life  as  a  whole  but  as  smoke  and  vapour. 
He  is  much  too  curious  of  the  varieties  of  belief,  and  too  keenly 
interested  in  following  them  out,  to  leave  himself  in  peril  of  the 
charge  that  all  belief  was  to  him  a  matter  of  indifference.     The 
reason  of  the  misapprehension  of  him  which  is  current  is  due  very 
mainly  to  the  fact  tnat  he  was  eminently  a  humorist  in  the  midst 
•f  a  pcopio  to  whom,  since  his  time,  humour  has  been  nearly  un- 
Imown.     But  thei«  is  more  than  this.     The  humorist  u«  a  recog- 


nized gcna^  almo<jt  always  passes  into  the  liatiriflt.     The  temped 
which  nas  been  admirably  defined  as  thinking  in  jest  while  feehng 
in  earnest  uatuially  throws  itself  into  opposition,  though  it  may 
not  always  take  the  irreconcilable  form  ot  the  opposition  of  Swift 
Perhaps  the  only  actual  parallel  to  Montaigne  in  literature  is  Lamb. 
There  are   differences    between   them,    arising   naturally  enough 
from  differences  of  temperament  and  experience  ;  but  both  agree 
in  their  attitude — an  attitude  which  is  sceptical  without  being 
negctive,  and  humorist  without  being  satiric     There  is  hardly  any 
writer  in  whom  the  human  comedy  appears  treated  with  such 
completeness  as  it  is  in  Montaigne.     There  is  disconiible  in  his 
essays  no  attempt  to  map  out  a  complete  plan,  aud  then  to  fill 
up  its  ouUines.      But  in  the  desultory  and  haphazard  fashion 
which  distinguishes  him  there  are  few  parts  of  life  on  which  he 
does  not  touch.     The  exceptions  are  chiefly  to  he  found  in  tho 
higher  and  more  poetical  strains  of  feeling  to  which  the  humorist 
temperament  lends  itself  \vith  reluctance  and  distrust,  though  it 
by  no  means  excludes  them.     The  French  disposition,  by  a  change 
which  has  never  been  sulficiently  accounted  for,  and  of  which  the 
mpst  accurate  examination  of  documents  fails  fully  to  detect  the 
reason,  had  become,  after  being  strongly  idealist  in  the  earlier  Middle 
Ages,,  absolutely  positive  in  the  later,  and  from  this  positiveness  it 
has  never  since  quite  freed  itself.    This  positiveness  is  already  notice- 
able in  Rabelais ;  it  becomes  more  noticeable  still  in  Montaigne.    Ho 
is  always  charming,  but  he  is  rarely  inspiring,  except  in  a  very  few 
passages  where  the  sense  of  vanity  and  nothingness  possesses  him 
with  unusual  strength.     As  a  general  rule,  an  agreeable  grotesque 
of  the  affairs  of  life  (a  gi-otesque  which  never  loses  hold  of  good 
taste  Eufticiently  to  bo  called  burlesque)  occupies  him.     Theie  is  a 
kind  of  anticipation  of  the  scientific  spirit  in  the  careful  zeal  with 
which  he  picks  up  odd  aspects  of  mankind,  and  comments  upon 
them  as  he  places  them  in  his  museum.     Such  a  temperament  is 
most  pleasautly  shov/n  when  it  is  least  personaL     The  letter  to 
the  Bordeaux  jurats  does  not,  as  has  been  said,  show  Montaigne 
in  his  best  light,  nor  does  another  letter  to  his  wife,  in  which 
he  condoles  with  her  on  the  death  of  one  of  their  childi-en  in  a 
strain  which  must  have  drawn  from  any  woman  of  sensibility  and 
spirit  a  torrent  of  indignant  tears.     But  what  is  almost  ofl"ensive 
in  immediate  and  private  relationships  becomes  not  only  toler- 
able but  delightful  in  the  impersonal  and  in'esponsible  relationship 
of  author  to  reader.     A  dozen  generations  of  men  have  rejoiced  in 
the  gentle  irony  with  which  Montaigne  handles  the  ludicrum  hu- 
ma}ii  ssccidi^  in  the  quaint  felicity  of  his  selection  of  examples,  and 
in  the  real  though  sometimes  fUntastic  wisdom  of  his  comment  on 
hia  selections, 

Montaigne  did  not  very  long  survive  the  completion  of 
his  book.     His  sojourn  at  Paris  for  the  purpose  of  getting 
it  printed  was  by  no  means  uneventful,  and  on  his  way  lie 
'stayed  for  some  time  at  Blois,  where  he  met  De  Thou.     lu 
Paris  itself  he  had  a  more  disagreeable  experience,  being 
for  a  short  time  committed  to  the  Bastille  by  the  Leaguers, 
as  a  kind  of  hostage,  it  is  said,  for  a  member  of  their  party 
who  had  been -arrested  at  Rouen  by  Heniy  of  Navarre. 
But  he  was  in  no  real  danger.     He  was  well  known  to 
and  favoured  by  both  Catherine  de'  Medici  and  the  Guises, 
and  was  very  soon  released.     In  Paris,  too,  at  this  time  he 
made  a  whimsical  but  pleasant  friendship.     Marie  le  Jars, 
Demoiselle  de  Grournay,  one  of  the  most  learned  ladies  of 
the  16th  and  17th  centuries,  had  conceived  such  a  venera- 
tion for  the  author  of  the  Essays  that,  though  a  very 
young  girl  and  connected  with  many  noble  families,  she 
travelled  to  the  capital  on  purpose  to  make  his  acquaint- 
ance.    Ho  gave   her   the  title  of  his   "fille   dalliance" 
(adopted  daughter),  which  she  bore  proudly  for  the  rest 
of  her  long  life.     She  lived  far  into  the  17th  century,  and 
became  a  character  and  something  of  a  laughing-stock  to 
the  new  generation;  but  her  services  to  Montaigne's  literary 
memory  were,  as  will  be  seen,  great.     Of  his  other  friends 
in  these  last  years  of  his  life  the  most  important  were 
fitienne  Pasquicr  and  Pierre  Charron.     The  latter,  indeed, 
was  more  than  a  friend,  he  was  a  disciple  ;  and  Montaigne, 
just  as  he  had  constituted  Mademoiselle  de  Goumay  his 
*'  fiUe  d'alliance,"  bestowed  on  Charron  the  rather  curious 
compliment  of  desiring  that 'he  should  take  the  arms  of  the 
family  of  Montaigne.     It  has  been  thought  from  these  two 
facts,  and  from  an  expression  in  one  of  the  later  essays, 
that  the  marriage  of  his  daughter  L6onore  had  not  turned 
out  to  his  satisfaction.    But  family  affection,  except  towards 
his  futiier,  w&s  by  no  meaiia  Montaigne's  etropgest  point. 


M  O  N  —  M  O  N 


771 


"Not  much  is  known  of  liim  in  tl\ese  later  years,  and 
indeed,  despite  the  laborious  researches  of  many  bio- 
graphers, of  whom  one,  Dr  Payen,  has  never  been  excelled 
in  persevering  devotion,  it  cannot  be  said  that  the 
amount  of  available  information  about  Montaigne  Is  large 
at  any  time  of  his  life.  It  would  seem  that  the  essayist 
had  returned  to  his  old  Ufe  of  study  and  meditation 
and  working  up  his  Essays.  No  new  ones  were  found 
after  his  death,  but  many  alterations  and  insertions.  Els 
various  maladies  grew  worse ;  yet  they  were  not  the  direct 
cause  of  his  death.  He  was  attacked  with  quinsy,  which 
rapidly  brought  about  paralysis  of  the  tongue,  and  he  died 
on  the  11th  of  September  1592,  under  circumstances  which, 
as  Tasquier  reports  them,  completely  disprove  any  intention, 
at  least  on  his  part,  of  displa)'ing  anti-Christian  or  anti- 
Catholic  leanings.  Feeling  himself  on  the  point  of  death, 
he  summoned  divers  of  his  friends  and  neighbours  to  his 
chamber,  had  mass  said  before  him,  and  endeavoured  to 
raise  himself  and  assume  a  devotional  attitude  at  the 
elevation  of  the  host,  dying  almost  immediately  afterwards. 
He  was  buried,  though  not  till  some  months  after  his 
death,  in  a  church  in  Bordeaux,  which  after  some  vicissi- 
tudes became  the  chapel  of  the  College.  During  the 
Eevolution  the  tomb  and,  as  it  was  supposed,  the  coffin 
were  transferred  with  much  pomp  to  the  town  museum ; 
but  it  was  discovered  that  the  wrong  coffin  had  been  taken, 
and  the  whole  was  afterwards  restored  to  its  old  position. 
Montaigne's  widow  survived  him,  and  his  daughter  left  pos- 
terity which  became  merged  in  the  noble  houses  of  S^gur 
and  Lur-Saluces.  But  it  does  not  appear  that  any  male 
representative  of  the  family  survived,  and  the  chateau  is 
not  now  in  the  possession  of  any  descendant  of  it. 

"When  Mademoiselle  de  Goumay  heard  of  the  death  of  Mon- 
taigne she  undertook  with  her  mother  a  visit  of  ceremony  and  con- 
dolence to  the  widow,  which  had  important  results  for  literature. 
Madame  de  Montaigne  gave  her  a  copy  of  the  edition  of  158S, 
Annotated  copiously  ;  at  the  same  time,  apparently,  she  bestowed 
another  copy,  also  annotated  by  the  author,  on  the  convent  of  the 
Feuillants  in  Bordeaux,  to  which  the  church  in  which  his  remains 
lay  was  attached.  Mademoiselle  de  Goumay  thereupon  set  to  work 
to  produce  a  new  and  final  edition  with  a  zeal  and  energy  which 
would  have  done  credit  to  any  editor  of  any  date.  She  herself 
worked  with  her  own  copy,  inserting  the  additions,  marking  the 
alterations,  and  translating  all  the  quotations.  But  when  she  had 
got  this  to  press  she  sent  the  proofs  to  Bordeaux,  where  a  poet  of 
some  note,  Pierre  de  Brach,  revised  them  \vith  the  other  annotated 
copy.  The  edition  thus  produced  has  with  justice  passed  as  the 
standard  even  in  preference  to  those  which  appeared  in  the  author's 
lifetime.  Unluckily,  Mademoiselle  de  Gournay's  original  does  not 
appear  to  exist,  and  her  text  was  said,  until  the  appearance  of  MM. 
Courbet  and  Royer's  edition,  to  have  been  somewhat  wantonly 
corrupted,  especially  in  the  important  point  of  spelling.  The 
Feuillants  copy  is  in  existence,  being  the  only  manuscript  or  partly 
manuscript  authority  for  the  text.  It  was  edited  in  1803  by 
Naigeon,  the  disciple  of  Diderot ;  but,  according  to  later  inquiries, 
considerable  liberties  were  taken  with  it.  The  fS-st  edition  of  1E80, 
with  the  various  readings  of  two  others  which  appeared  during  the 
author's  lifetime,  was  reprinted  by  MM.  Dezeimeris  and  Burck- 
htusen.  Hitherto  the  edition  of  Lo  CTerc  {3  vols.,  Paris,  1826-28) 
and  in  a  more  compact  form  that  of  Louandre  (1  vols.,  Paris,  1854) 
have  been  the  most  usefuL  The  edition,  however,  of  MM.  Courbet 
and  Royer,  which  ia  based  on  that  of  1595,  will  undoubtedly  be  the 
titandard  ;  but,  though  the  text  is  complete  (Paris,  Lemerre,  1873- 
1877),  the  fifth  volume,  containing  the  biography  and  all  the  editorial 
apparatus,  has  unluckily  yet  (1883)  to  make  its  appearance.  The 
editions  of  Montaigne  in  France  and  elsewhere,  and  the  works  upon 
him  during  the  past  three  centuries,  are  innumerable.  His  influence 
upon  his  successora  has  already  been  hinted  at,  and  cannot  here 
be  traced  in  detail.  In  one  case,  however, — that  of  Pascal — it  is  of 
sufficient  importance  to  deserve  mention.  Pascal,  who  has  left  a 
special  discourse  on  Montaigne,  was  evidently  profoundly  influenced 
by  him,  and  the  attitude  towards  his  teacher  is  an  interesting  one. 
The  sceptical  method  of  the  essayist  is  at  once  tempting  and  terrible 
to  him.  He  accepts  it  in  so  far  as  it  demolishes  the  'claims  of 
human  reason  and  heathen  philosophy,  but  evidently  dreads  it  in 
so  far  as  it  is  susceptible  of  being  turned  against  religion  itself.  In 
England  Montaigne  was  early  popular.  It  was  long  supposed  that 
the  autograph  of  Shakespeare  in  a  copy  of  Florio's  translation 
ehowed  his  study  of  the  Estaya.     The  autograph  has  been  disputed, 


but  divers  passages,  and  especially  one  in  The  Tempest,  show  that 
at  first  or  second  hand  the  poet  was  acquainted  with  tho  essayist. 
Towards  the  latter  end  of  the  17th  century.  Cotton,  the  frienc.  of 
Isaac  Walton,  executed  a  complete  translation,  which,  though  ^.ot 
extraordinarily  faithful,  possesses  a  good  deal  of  rough  vigour.  It 
has  Ijceu  frequently  reprinted  with  additions  and  alterations.  Tho 
most  noteworthy  critical  handling  of  the  subject  in  English  ia 
unquestionably  Emerson's  in  Representative  Men.  (G.  SA.) 

MONTALEMBEET,  Chaeles  Forbes  de  (1810-1870), 
historian,  was  born  on  29th  May  1810.  The  family  was 
a  very  ancient  one,  belonging  to  Poitou,  or  rather  to^ 
Angoumois.  Direct  descent  is  said  to  be  provable  to  the 
13th  century,  and  charters  and  other  documents  carry  the 
history  of  the  house  two  centuries  fiu-ther  back.  For  some 
generations  before  the  historian  the  family  had  been  dis- 
tinguished, not  merely  in  the  army,  but  for  scientific  attain- 
ments. Montalembert's  father,  Eene,  emigrated,  fought 
under  CondS,  and  subsequently  served  in  the  English 
army.  Hq  married  a  Miss  Forbes,  and  his  eldest  son 
Charles  was  born  at  London.  At  the  Restoration  Ren6 
de  Montalembert  returned  to  France,  was  raised  to  the 
peerage  in  1819,  and  became  ambassador  to  Sv,'eden  (where 
Claries  received  much  of  his  education)  in  1826.  He  died 
a  year  after  the  overthrow  of  the  legitimate  monarchy. 
Charles  de  Montalembert  was  too  young  to  take  his  seat 
as  a  peer  (twenty-five  being  the  necessary  age),  but  he 
retained  other  rights  ;  and  this,  combined  with  his  literary 
and  intellectual  activity,  made  him  a  person  of  some 
importance.  He  had  eagerly  entered  iuto  the  somewhat 
undefined  plans  of  Lamennais  and  Lacordaire  for  the 
establishment  of  a  school  of  Liberal  Catholicism,  and  he 
co-operated  with  them,  both  in  the  Avenir  (see  Lamen- 
nais, vol.  xiv.  pp.  !;39,  240)  and  in  the  practical  endeavour, 
which  absorbed  some  of  the  best  energies  of  France  at  the 
time,  to  break  through  the  trammels  of  the  system  of  state 
education.  This  latter  scheme  first  brought  Montalembert 
into  notice,  as  he  was  formally  charged  with  unlicensed 
teaching.  He  claimed  the  right  of  trial  by  his  peers,  and 
made  a  notable  defence,  of  course  with  a  deliberate  intention 
of  protest.  His  next  most  remarkable  act  was  his  participa- 
tion in  the  famous  pilgrimage  to  Rome  of  his  two  friends. 
This  step,  as  is  well  known,  proved  useless  to  mitigate  the 
measures  which  private  intrigues,  and  perhaps  a  not  alto- 
gether injudicious  instinct,  prompted  the  Roman  curia  to 
take  against  the  Avenir  and  the  doctrines  of  its  promoters. 
Montalembert,  however,  submitted  dutifully  to  the  ency- 
clical of  June  1835,  and  only  devoted  himself  more 
assiduously  to  the  work  on  which  he  was  engaged,  the 
Life  of  St  Elisabeth  of  Hungary.  This  appeared  in  1836. 
It  displayed  Montalembert's  constant  literarycharacteristics, 
and,  though  inferior  to  Les  Moines  ^Occident  in  research 
and  labour,  is  perhaps  superior  to  it  as  a. work  of  art. 
The  famous  speech  by  which  Montalembert  is  best  known, 
— "  Nous  sommes  les  fils  des  croisSs  et  jamais  nous  ne  re- 
culerons  devant  les  fils  de  Voltaire  ",  expresses,  or  at  least 
indicates,  his  attitude  not  insufficiently.  He  was  an  ardent 
student  of  the  Middle  Ages,  but  his  mediaeval  enthusiasm 
was  strongly  tinctured  with  religious  sentiment,  and  at  tho 
same  time  by  no  means  connected  with  any  afi'ection  for 
despotism.  Montalembert  still  climg  to  his  early  liberalism, 
and  he  made  himself  conspicuous  dtu-ing  the  reign  of  Louis 
Philippe  by  his  protests  against  the  restrictions  imposed 
on  the  liberty  of  the  press,  besides  struggling  for  freedom 
in  national  education.  The  party  which  he  represented, 
or  rather  which  he  strove  to  found,  was  by  no  means  wholly 
Legitimist  at  heart,  and  at  the  downfall  of  Louis  Philippe 
Montalembert  had  .no  difficulty  in  accepting  the  republic 
and  taking,  when  elected,  a  seat  in  the  assembly.  He 
had  not  a  little  to  do  with  the  support  given  by  France  to 
the  pope.  As  he  had  accepted  the  republic,  he  was  not 
disinclined  to  accept  the  empire ;  but  the  measures  which 


772 


M  O  N  — M  O  N 


followed  the  coup  d!Hat  disgusted  him,  though  he  still  sat 
in  the  chamber.  A  defeat  in  1857  put  an  end  to  his 
parliamentary  appearances.  He  was  still,  however,  recog- 
nized as  one  of  the  most  formidable  of  the  moderate 
opponents  of  the  empire,  and  he  was  repeatedly  prosecuted 
for  anti-imperialist  letters  and  pamphlets.  In  the  ten 
lyears  between  1840  and  1850  he  had  written  little  but 
political  pamphlets,  but  after  the  establishment  of  the 
empire,  and  especially  after  ho  lost  his  seat  in  the  chamber, 
•he  became  more  prominent  as  an  author.  Even  before 
ithis  he  had  produced  a  volume  on  the  A  venir  Politique  de 
TAnc/leterre  (\855),  and  another  on  Fie  IJC.  et  Lord  Palmer- 
tton  (1856),  besides  numerous  articles  and  pamphlets,  the 
,chief  of  which  were  perhaps  Une  Nation  [Poland]  en  Dcuil, 
and  L'jSglise  Libre  dans  l'£tat  Libre. 
J  His  great  work,  the  fruit  of  many  years'  labour,  did  not 
appear  tiU  he  was  fifty  years  old,  and  ten  years  before  liis 
death,  which  occurred  before  its  completion.  Les  Moines 
dOcddent  depuis  St  Benott  jnsqu'd,  St  Bernard  has  some 
of  the  peculiar  drawbacks  which  have  characterized  ahnost 
all  historical  work  of  any  literary  pretensions  during  the 
present  generation.  It  is  planned  on  too  large  a  scale, 
and  executed  with  too- much  record  to  profusion  of  pictur- 
esque detail  and  abundance  of  fluent  argument  on  points 
which  the  writer  has  at  heart.  Its  best  passages  are  inferior 
to  the  best  of  a  younger  writer  of  very  different  opinions 
though  not  dissimilar  style  and  temperament — M.  Ernest 
Renan  ;  but  it  is  a  work  of  great  interest  and  value. 

Montalembert,  who  had  mamed  Mademoiselle  de  Merode, 
sister  of  one  of  Pius  IX. 's  minister-s,  but  who  had  no  male 
offspring,  died  in  March  1870,  the  year  so  fatal  to  France. 
His  health  had  long  been  very  bad,  and  was  understood 
to  have  suffered  from  the  chagrins  attending  his  exclusion 
from  political  life  and  the  defeat  of  most  of  his  plans. 
Since  his  death  his  works  have  appeared  in  a  complete 
edition.  They  have,  regarded  from  the  literary  point  of 
Tiew,  many  of  the  faults  of  their  time.  A  voluminous  and 
vigorous  writer,  Montalembert  was  more  of  a  journalist,  a 
pamphleteer,  and  an  orator  than  of  a  man  of  letters  properly 
80  called.  His  talents  were  diffused  rather  than  concen- 
trated, and  they  were  much  occupied  on  merely  ephemeral 
topics.  But  of  picturesque  eloquence  in  a  fluent  and  rather 
facile  kind  he  was  no  inconsiderable  representative. 

MONTALVAN,  Juan  Pekez  de  (1602-1638),  Spanish 
dramatist  and  writer  of  fiction,  was  the  son  of  the  kiug's 
bookseller,  and  was  born  at  Madrid  iu  1602.  At  the  early 
age  of  seventeen  ho  became  a  licentiate  in  theology,  and  in 
1626,  after  entering  the  priesthood,  he  received  a  notarial 
appointment  in  connexion  with  the  Inquisition.  His 
overtasked  brain  succumbed  under  the  numerous  Literary 
labours  he  imposed  on  it,  and  he  died  when  only  thirty- 
six  years  old  ("25th  June  1638). 

In  1624  ho  published  eight  prose  tales  {Succsos  y  prodigios  en 
am-or,  en  ocho  novelns  cjcmplarcs),  one  of  which,  "  The  Disastrous 
Friendship,"  has  been  characterized  by  Tickoor  as  one  of  the  best 
in  the  language.  This,  as  well  as  a  subsequent  volume  of  stories 
(Para  todos:^  Exemplos  morales,  humams  y  divines,  1633),  was  fre- 
quently reprinted.  His  last  prose  writing  was  a  popular  panegyric 
on  his  lately  deceased  friend  and  master  Lope  de  Vega  {Fama  pds- 
ttcma  de  Lope  de  Vega,  1638),  whom  he  almost  rivalled  in  dramatic 
productivencs-s,  and  whose  conventional  manner,  ilimsiiiess  in  (-on- 
struction,  and  carelessness  iu  execution  he  too  closely  followed. 
The  first  volume  of  his  collected  Comedias  appeared  in  1638,  the 
second  in  1639.  On  the  Spanish  stage  they  were  in  great  request, 
and  Montalvan'a  repute  led  inferior  WTitors  in  some  cases  to  borrow 
his  name.  His  dramas  are  distinctly  superior  to  his  "  Auf  os  sacra- 
montales,"  but  even  of  the  former  the  tra,r;ody  Los  Anvintcs  de 
Tentel  is  the  only  one  that  has  enjoyed  permanent  popularity. 
SeeTicknor,  Hist:  of  Span.  Lit.,  vol.  ii.  (1863). 

MONTANA,  one  of  the  north-western  Territories  of 
the  United  States,  is  limited  on  the  N.  by  British  Columbia, 
on  the  E.  by  Dakota,  on  the  S.  by  Wyoming  and  Idaho, 
and  on  the  W.  by  Idaho.     Its  boundaries,  as  established 


by  statute,  are  as  follows  : — on  the  N.,  the  49th  parallel  •,' 
on  the  E.,  the  27th  meridian  west  of  Washington,  or  the 
104th  west  of  Greenwich;  on  the  S.  and  W.  the  boun- 
dary follows  the  45th  parallel  from  the  27th  meridi.an  weEt 
to  the  34th  meridian  west,  then  turns  south  along  the 
latter  meridian  to  its  point  cf  intersection  with  the  conti- 
nental watershed,  thence  aloEg  the  crest-line  of  this  water- 
shed "westward  and  north-westward  until  it  reaches  the 
Bitter-root  Momitains ;  it  then  follows  the  crest  of  this 
range  north-westward  to  the  fioint  where  it  is  crossed  by 
the  39th  meridian  west,  which  it  follows  uorih  to  the  line 'of 
British  Columbia.  The  total  3rea  is  about  146,080  square 
miles — an  approximate  estimate,  as  the  boundajy  along  the 
continental  watershed  and  the  Bitter-root  Mountains  has 
not  been  exactly  surveyed.  The  average  elevation  above 
sea-level  has  been  estimated  at  3900  feet. 

Topogi-aphically,  Montana  may  be  separated  into  two 
great  divisions — that  of  the  ;plains  comprising  the  eastern 
two-thirds,  and  that  of  the  mountains  comprising  the 
western  portion.  The  former,  a  monotonous  roUing  ex- 
pans?,  broken  only  by  the  beds  of  the  few  streams  which 
traverse  it,  and  by  a  few  small  groups  of  hills,  extends  over 
niio  degrees  of  longitude  in  a  gentle  uniform  slope,  rising 
from  2000  feet  above  the  sea  at  the  eastern  boundary  to 
4000  at  the  base  of  the  Rocky  Mountains.  Except  along  the 
streams  and  upon  the  scattered  groups  of  hilh),  this  section 
is  entirely  devoid  of  foresti-growth  of  any  kind.  Vegetation 
is  limited  to  the  bimch  grasses,  artemisia,  and  cacti  The 
grasses  are  the  mo.st  abundant  and  luxm'iant  near  the 
mountains,  where  the  rainfall  is  greatest.  The  mountain 
section,  comprising  the  western  third  of  the  Territory,  is 
composed,  in  general  terms,  of  a  succession  of  ranges  and 
valleys  rumiing  very  uniformly  somewhat  in  a  north-west 
and  south-east  direction.  The  mountains  vary  in  height 
from  8000  to  10,000,  even  in  isolated  cases  reaching 
11,000  feet,  with  mountain-passes  6000  to  8000  feet  above 
the  sea.  Towards  the  north  the  ranges  become  almost 
continuous,  forcing  the  streams  into  long  iov\  circuitous 
courses  in  order  to  disentangle  themselves  from  the  maze 
of  mountains,  while,  on  the  other  hand,  the  n.iiges  of  the 
south-v.-estcn  part  of  the  Territory  are  much  liroken,  afford- 
ing nuraerons  low  passe?  and  water-gaps. 

In  the  mountainous  p.irt  of  the  Territory  are  the  head- 
waters of  the  Missouri  (Atlantic  basin)  and  Clark's  Fork  of 
the  Colmnbio.  (P.i.cific  basin).  The  former  rises  in  the 
south-w2st  of  tho  territory  in  three  large  branches,  the 
Jefferson,  Madison,  and  Gallatin,  which  meet  at  the  foot 
of  the  Gallatin  valley  at  a  point  kiicm  as  the  "  Three 
Forks  of  the  Missouri."  Here  the  Jlissouri  is  a  good-sized 
stream,  fordable  with  difficulty  even  when  the  current  is 
lowest.  From  this  point  to  its  mouth  navigation  is  pos- 
sible when  the  stream  is  not  below  its  mean  height;  it 
is  interrupted  only  at  the  Great  Falls  of  the  ilissoiu-i,  near 
Fort  Benton,  abovo  which,  however,  it  is  practically  little 
used  for  navigation.  Its  other  principal  tributaries  iu  its 
upper  course  are  the  Sun,  Teton,  Marias,  Musselshell,  and 
Milk  rivers,  all  of  which  vary  much  in  size  vrith  the  season, 
—the  last  two  being  nearly  or  quite  dry  near  their  mouths 
in  the  fall  cf  the  year.  Tho  Yellowstone,  one  of  the  most 
important  ti-ibutaries  of  the  Missouri,  has  nearly  all  its 
course  in  Jlontana,  and  is  navigable  for  small  steamers  as 
far  as  the  Cr'ow  Agency,  except  when  the  water  is  low. 
Clark's  Fork  of  the  Columbia  is  formed  by  the  junction  of 
the  Flathead  and  the  Missoula  or  HcUgate  river.  Tho 
former  rises  in  the  mountains  of  British  Cohuubia  and 
flows  nearly  south  through  Flathead  Lake  to  its  point  of 
junction  with  the  illissoula.  The  latter  rises  opposite  the 
Jeficrson  river  and  flows  north-westward,  receiving  on  it« 
way  several  large  affluents.  Below  the  point  of  jimction 
of  these  streams,  Clark's  Fork  flows  north-west  along  tho 


MONTANA 


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base  of  the  Bitter-root  Mountains  into  Idaho.  This  stream 
is  very  rapid,  and  is  not  narigable.  Its  course,  as  well  as 
those  of  most  of  its  tributaries,  passes  through  narrow 
valleys,  the  surrounding  country  being  well  watered  end 
covered  with  dense  forests  of  Conifers. 

Otology. — Most  of  tie  mountain  area  belongs  to  the  Eozoic  and 
saurian  formations.  Along  the  base  of  the  mountains  is  a  Triassic 
belt  of  variable  width.  Succeeding  this  is  a  broad  area  of  nearly 
horizontal  Cretaceous  beds,  followed  by  the  Tertiary  formation,. 
which  covers  nearly  one-third  of  the  Territory.  These  recent  for- 
mations are  interrupted  here  and  there  by  volcanic  upheavals. 

Climate. — The  climate  of  Montana  diifers  almost  as  greatly  in 
different  parts  of  the  Territory  as  that  of  California.  In  the  north- 
west it  resembles  that  of  the  Pacific  coast  The  westerly  winds 
hlovring  off  the  Pacific  do  not  meet  with  as  formidable  a  barrier  aa 
iarth-.r  south,  and  consequently  are  not  chUied,  or  deprived  of  so 
large  a  proportion  of  their  moisture.  The  result  is  that  the  north- 
western portion  of  Montana  enjoys  a  mild  temperature  and  a  rainfall 
Bufficieut  for  the  needs  of  agriculture.  The  valleys  of  the  Kootenai, 
Flathead,  Missoula,  and  Bitter-root  can  be  cultivated  without  irriga- 


tion with  little  danger  of  loss  from  drought  Farther  east  and  soafii 
the  rainfall  decreases.  In  the  valleys  of  the  upper  Missouri,  tho 
Jefferson,  Madison,  Gallatin,  and  tho  upper  Yellowstono  irrigatioa 
is  almost  everywhere  required,  as  well,  as  over  the  broad  extent  of 
the  plains.  Over  most  of  the  Territory  the  rainfall  ran^s  from  30 
to  15  inches  annually  ;  in  the  north-western  comer  it  rises  to  £5. 

The  general  temperature  is  comparatively  mild  for  tho  latitude, 
the  elevation  above  the  sea  being  decidedly  less  than  that  of  tho 
average  of  the  Rocky  Mountain  region.  The  mean  annual  temper- 
ature ranges  from  40°  to  60"  Fahr. ,  but  the  variations  aro  very  great 
and  violent  Frosts  and  snowstorms  are  possible  during  every 
month  of  the  year,  so  that  agricultiu-e  and  stock-raising  are  more 
or  less  hazaraous.  On  the  other  hand,  the  ordinary  eitremes  ot 
temperature  are  not  so  great  as  in  more  arid  portions  of  the  country. 

Forests. — Throughout  the  Territory,  as  everywhere  else  in  tho 
Cordilleran  region,  forests  follow  rainfall.  The  plains  are  treeless  ; 
the  mountain  valleys  about  the  heads  of  the  Missouri  are  clothed 
only  with  grass  and  artemisia,  many  localities  extending  to  a  con- 
siderable height  up  the  mountains,  which  are  themselves  timbered, 
though  not  heavily.  In  the  north-western  part,  roughly  defined 
as  the  drainage  area  of  Clark's  Fork,  where  the  rainfall  is  somewhat 
greater,  the  forests  become  of  importance.    The  mountains  are  forest- 


Sketch  Map  of  Montana  Territory. 


dad  from  summit  to  base ;  and  the  narrower  valleys  are  also  covered, 
while  the  timber  is  of  larger  size  and  of  much  greater  commercial 
value  than  elsewhere  in  the  Territory,— the  valuable  timber  consisting 
entirely  of  the  various  species  of  Cont/crK,  pine,  fir,  cedar,  &c.  Of  the 
broad-leaved  species,  willow,  aspen,  and  cotton-wood  are  abundant. 
Fauna.— The  native  fauna  is  not  sharply  distinguished  from 
that  of  neighbouring  States  and  Temtories.  The  higher  latitude 
is,  however,  indicated  by  the  relatively  greater  abundance  of  species 
favouring  a  colder  climate.  The  moose  and  the  Rocky  Mountain 
goat,  though  by  no  means  abundant,  still  frequent  chosen  haunts 
ui  the  mountains, — the  former  in  the  cool  marshy  valleys,  the  latter 
npon  the  most  rugged  inaccessible  elevations.  The  ijlack-tailed 
and  mule  deer,  the  antelope,  elk,  and  mountain  sheep  ar?  abundant, 
and  the  bison  still  ranges  the  plains,  though  in  sidly  reduced 
numbers.  Among  Carnivorte,  the  bhck  and  grizzly  bjars,  mountain 
lion,  lynx,  wild  cat,  and  several  species  of  wolves  are  stiU  plentiful. 
'  Agrieulture  and  Industry. — Agriculture  is  depeadent  in  most 
parts,  of  Montana  upon  tho  supply  of  water  furnished  by  the 
streams.  0»-ing  to  this  fact  it  is  probable  that  not  more  than 
8  per  cent  of  the  totol  area  of  the  Territory  can  ever,  even  under 
the  most  economical  distribution  of  the  water-supply,  be  brought 
uder  cnltivatiOD.      In  the  drainage  area  of  Clark's  Fork  are 


several  fine  valleys  containing  3  considerable  extent  of  arabl; 
land,  such  as  those  of  the  Missoula,  Bitter-root,  Deer  Lodge,  Jocko, 
and  Flathead.  Upon  the  head-waters  of  the  Missouri  is  also  &  ;.-.r;c 
extent  of  arable  land.  The  valleys  of  the  Jefferson  and  Madison  .^Uo 
deserve  mention.  Along  the  eastern  base  of  the  mountains,  near 
the  head-waters  of  the  Sun,  Teton,  and  Marias  rivers,  are  consider- 
able areas  susceptible  of  irricration.  Below  the  Forks  the  Missoii.-i 
flows  for  75  miles  through  a  broad  vall'ey,  much  of  which  can  be  irri- 
gated ;  below  Fort  Benton,  however,  the  blufls  become  higher  and 
close  in  on  the  river.  The  Yellowstone,  also,  after  lea-i-ing  the  monu- 
tains,  flows  through  a  similar  kind  of  valley,  which  extends  rrith  a 
few  minor  breaks  down  to  the  point  where  the  river  turns  from  an  ecvt 
to  a  north-east  course,  when  it  enters  a  country  of  mauvaists  terns, 
which,  except  as  a  mausoleum  of  fossil  remains,  is  utterly  valueless. 
Owing  to  the  comparatively  isolated  position  of  the  Territory, 
agricultural  pursuits  have  been  limited  by  tho  demands  of  home 
consumption.  The  census  of  1880  reported  the  area  in  farms  to  crin- 
sist  of  405,683  acres,  with  an  avcr.ige  of  267  acres  to  each  farm.  The 
whole  Is  less  than  one-half  per  cent  of  the  entire  area  of  the  Ter.-=- 
tory.  The  improved  land  is  reported  as  amounting  to  262,^v, 
acres.  The  following  are  the  amounts  of  tho  principal  agricultural 
products :— wheat   469,688  bushels:  maize,   5689  buphels ;  oais^ 


774 


M  O  N  — M  0  N 


900,915  bushels  ;  barley,  30,970  bushels  ;  hay,  63,947  tons  ;  wool, 
99j'484  pounds  ; — value  of  all  fann  products,  82,024,923.  The  live- 
stock interest  is  large,  and  is  increasing  rapidly.  The  great  extent 
of  pasture  afforded  by  the  plains  ana  the  broad  valleys  of  the 
mountains  would  seem  to  promise  an  almost  unlimited  e.^ttension 
of  this  industry  in  the  future.  Both  cattle  and  sheep  owners, 
however,  labour  under  disadvantages  as  compared  with  the  owners 
farther  south.  The  lower  temperature  and  heavier  snows,  and 
particularly  the  danger  of  great  e.^tTemes  of  temperature,  require 
that  provision  of  shelter  and  food  be  made  for  a  part  or  all  of  the 
winter  season,  otherwise  the  rancheman  runs  the  risk  of  occasional 
severe  losses.  The  census  of  1880  furnishes  the  following  statistics 
of  live-stock  : — horses,  35,114  ;  mules  and  asses,  858  ;  workingoxen, 
93G;  milch  cows,  11,308;  other  cattle,  160,143;  sheep,  184,277; 
swine,  10,278  ;— total  value  of  live-stock,  85,161,554. 

In  mineral  production  Montana  has  never  taken  a  leading  place, 
although  in  the  early  days  some  of  the  placer  ground  yielded  well. 
Tlie  rich  placers  of  Little  Prickly  Pear,  Bannack,  and  Alder  Gulch 
were  quickly  exhausted.  The  produce  of  the  latter  has  been  reported 
variously  at  from  §25,000,000  to  ?40,000,000,  the  greater  part  of 
which  was  extracted  in  a  few  months.  In  the  year  1879-80 
$1,805,767  worth  of  gold  and  §2,905,068  of  silver  were  cxtractcj, 
about  three-fourths  from  deep  mines  and  one-fourth  from  placers. 
For  the  year  1882  the  total  mineral  production  is  reported  at 
$8,004,000,  of  which  about  §1,000,000  was  for  copper  and  lead. 

Population. — Owing  largely  to  its  remote  position  the  population 
as  well  as  the  material  prosperity  of  Montana  have  had  a  slow  growth 
in  comparison  with  other  more  favoured  poi-tions  of  the  west.  The 
population  in  1880,  as  reported  by  the  census,  was  39,159  (28,177 
males,  and  10,982  females), — an  increase  of  90'1  per  cent,  over  that  in 
1870.  There  were  27,6SS  natives,  and  11,521  of  foreign  birth,  while 
35,385  were  whites,  34  6  negioes  or  of  mixed  negro  blood,  1765  Chinese, 
and  1663  citizen  Indians.  By  far  the  greater  portion  of  the  popula- 
tion is  found  in  the  western  half,  upon  the  head-waters  of  the  Missouri 
and  Clark's  Fork.  The  eastern  half  is  ;is  yet  but  very  sparsely  settled, 
and  probably  it  will  never  sustain  more  than  a  small  population. 

The  Territory  is  divided  into  eleven  counties,  which,' with  their 
population  in  1880,  were  the  following:  —  Beaverhead,  2712; 
Choteau,  305S  ;  Custer,  2510  ;  Dawson,  180  ;  Deer  Lodge,  8876 ; 
Gallatin,  3643  ;  Jefferson,  2464  ;  Lewis  and  Clark,  6521 ;  Madison, 
3915  ;  Meagher,  2743  ;  Missoula,  2537.  The  principal  settlements 
are— Helena,  the  capital  (3624)  ;  Butte,  a  mining  town  (3363)  ; 
and  Bo2eman,  in  the  Gallatin  valley  upon  the  Northern  Pacific 
Kailway,  which  in  1880  had  a  population  of  894  and  has  probably 
double  that  number  at  present  (1883). 

The  total  number  of  Indians  in  Montana  ia  estimated  by  the 
Indian  office  at  19,764.  These  are  nominally  congregated  at  five 
agencies,  although  in  reality  they  roam  over  the  entire  Territory. 
They  are  of  various  tribes,  the  principal  of  which  are  the  Sioux, 
Crow,  Blackfoot,  Gros  Ventre,  Assinaboine,  and  Pend'  d'Oreille. 
Their  reseivations  cover  more  than  one-third  of  the  Territory. 

Gomrnment  and  Fviance. — The  government  of  Montana  is  similar 
to  that  of  the  other  Territories.  Tho  governor,  secretary,  chief  jus- 
tice, and  two  associate  justices  are  appointed  by  the  president  of  tho 
United  States.  The  treasurer,  auditor,  and  superintendent  of  public 
instruction  are  elected  by  the  people  of  tho  Territory,  as  are  also  tho 
members  of  the  two  houses  of  tho  legislature.  Montana  is  repre- 
sented in  Congress  by  a  delegate,  also  elective,  who  has  liberty  to 
take  part  in  debate  but  has  no  vote.  The  Territorial  debt  at  tho 
close  of  1881  was  but  §70,000.  The  amount  raised  by  Territorial 
taxation  was  §93,211. 

History. — The  Montana  country  was  originally  acquii'ed  by  the 
United  States  under  the  Louisiana  purchase.  It  became  successively 
a  part  of  Louisiana  Territory,  of  Missouri  Territory,  of  Nebraska 
Territory,  and  of  Dakota.  On  26th  May  1864  it  was  organized 
under  a  Territorial  government  of  its  own,  with  practically  its  present 
boundaries.  Tho  exploration  of  this  region  commenced  with  the 
celebrated  expedition  of  Lewis  and  Clark  in  1803-1806.  Between 
1850  and  1855  it  was  ti-aversed  and  mapped  by  a  number  of  exploring 
parties,  having  in  \-iew  tho  selection  of  trans-continental  railroad 
routes.  Since  then  numberless  expeditions  have  examined  it,  and 
somo  systematic  topographic  work  has  been  done  under  difl'erc^nt 
branches  of  the  United  States  Government.  The  first  settlers 
entered  the  Territory  in  1861,  discovered  placer  gold  on  Little 
Prickly  Pear  Creek,  and  shortly  after  built  the  city  of  Helena. 
Later,  the  placers  at  Bannack  were  discovered,  and  a  small  "  rush  " 
to  the  Territory  commenced.  In  1863  tho  rich  placei-s  at  Alder 
Gulch  were  brought  to  view,  and  miners  and  adventurers  swarmed 
in  from  all  parts.  Then  it  was  that  the  early  social  history  of  Cali- 
fornia was  repeated  on  a  smaller  scale  in  Montana.  Tlio  lawless 
dements  assumed  control,  and  for  many  months  neither  life  nor 
property  was  safe.  Indeed,  for  a  timo  tho  community  was  in  a 
state  of  blockade  ;  no  one  with  money  in  his  possession  could  get 
out  of  tho  Territory.  Finally,  tho  citizens  organized  a  "  Vigilance 
Committee "  for  self-preservation,  took  tho  offensive,  and  after  a 
short  sharp  struggle  rid  the  cuinmunity  of  its  disturbing  clemv^nts. 
After  tho  exhaustion  of  tho  placer?,  tho  population  decreased,  owing 


to  the  migration  of  the  floating  mining  class ;  but  their  place  wa.s  soon 
taken  by  more  permanent  settlers.  (H.  G*.) 

MONTANISM  is  a  somewhat  misleading  name  for  the 
movement  in  the  2d  century  which,  along  v/ith  Gnos- 
ticism, occupied  the  most  critical  period  in  the  history  of 
the  early  church.  It  was  the  overthrow  of  Gnosticism  and 
Montanism  that  made  the  "  Catholic  "  church.  The  credit 
of  first  discerning  the  true  significauca  of  the  Montanistic 
movement  belongs  to  Eitschl.^ 

In  this  article  an  account  will  be  given  of  the  general 
significance  of  Montanism  in  relation  to  the  history  of  the 
church  in  the  2d  century,  followed  by  a  sketch  of  its  origin, 
development,  and  decline. 

1.  From  the  middle  of  the  2d  century  a  change  began 
to  take  place  in  the  outward  circumstances  of  Christianity. 
The  Christian  faith  had  hitherto  been  maintained  in 
a  few  small  congregations  scattered  over  the  Roman  em- 
pire. These  congregations  were  provided  with  only  the 
most  indispensable  constitutional  forms,  neither  stricter 
nor  more  numerous  than  were  required  bj'  a  religious 
bond  resting  on  supernatural  expectations,  strict  discipline, 
and  brotherly  love  {"  Corpus  sumus  de  conscientia  re- 
ligionis,  de  unitate  disciplinos,  de  spei  foedere").  This 
state  of  things  passed  away.  The  churches  soon  found 
numbers  within  their  pale  who  stood  in  need  of  super- 
vision, instruction,  and  regular  control.  The  enthusiasm 
for  a  life  of  holiness  and  separation  from  the  world, 
the  eager  outlook  for  the  end  of  the  world,  the  glad 
surrender  to  the  gospel  message,  were  no  longer  the 
influences  by  which  aU  minds  were  swayed.  In  many 
cases  sober  convictions  or  submissive  assent  supplied  the 
want  of  spontaneous  enthusiasm.  There  were  many  who 
did  not  become,  but  who  tvere,  and  therefore  remained, 
Christians, — too  powerfully  attracted  by  Christianity  to 
abandon  it,  and  yet  not  powerfully  enough  to  Lave 
adopted  it  for  themselves.  Then,  in  addition  to  this, 
social  distinctions  asserted  themselves  amongst  the  breth- 
ren. Christians  were  already  found  in  all  ranks  and 
occupations — in  the  imperial  palace,  among  the  officials, 
in  the  abodes  of  labour  and  the  halls  of  learning,  amongst 
slaves  and  freemen.  Were  all  these  to  be  left  in  their 
callings  1  Should  the  chui'ch  take  the  decisive  step  into 
the  world,  consent  to  its  an-angoments,  conform  to  its 
cuistoms,  acknowledge  as  far  as  possible  its  authorities, 
and  satisfy  its  requirements  1  Or  ought  she,  on  t!ie  other 
hand,  to  remain,  as  she  had  been  at  first,  a  society  of 
religious  devotees,  separated  and  shut  out  from  tlie  world 
by  a  rigorous  discipline  and  working  on  it  only  through 
a  direct  propaganda?  This  was  the  dilemma  that  the 
church  had  to  face  in  the  second  half  of  the  2d  century : 
either  she  must  commence  a  world-\\'ido  mission  in  the 
comprehensive  sense  by  an  effective  entrance  into  Eoman 
society — renouncing,  of  course,  her  original  peculiarities  and 
exclusiveness.;  or,  retaining  these  peculiarities  and  clinging 
to  the  old  modes  of  life,  she  must  remain  a  small  insigni- 
ficant sect,  barely  intelligible  to  one  man  in  a  thousand, 
and  utterly  incapable  of  saving  and  educating  nations. 
That  this  was  the  question  at  issue  ought  to  be  obvious 
enough  to  us  now,  although  it  could  not  be  clearly  per- 
ceived at  the  time.  It  was  natural  that  warning  voices 
shoiUd  then  be  raised  in  the  church  against  secular 
tendencies,  that  the  well-known  counsels  about  the  imita- 
tion of  Christ  shoidd  bo  held  up  in  their  literal  strictnes.s 
before  worldly  Christians,  that  demands  should  be  made  for 
a  restoration  of  the  old  discipline  and  severity,  and  for  a 
return  to  apostolic  simplicity  and  purity.  The  church  as  a 
whole,  however,  under  pressure  of  circumstances  rather  than 
by  a  spontaneous  impulse,  decided  otherwise.  She  marched 
through  the  open  door  into  the  Eoman  state,  and  settled 


'  En'jtfhting der  AWMthoUschcn  Kirchc,  2d  td.,  Boan,  1857. 


MONTANISM 


775 


down  there  for  a  long  career  of  activity,  to  Christiani2e  the 
state  along  all  its  thoroughfares  by  imparting  to  it  the  word 
of  the  gospel,  but  at  the  same  time  leavbg  it  everything  ex- 
cept its  gods.  On  the  other  hand,  she  funushfed  herself  with 
everything  of  value  that  could  be  takep  over  from  the  world 
without  overstraining  the  elastic  structure  of  the  organiza- 
tion which  she  now  adopted.  With  the  aid  of  its  philosophy 
she  created  her  new  Christian  theology;  its  polity  furnished 
her  with  the  most  exact  constitutional  forms;  its  juris- 
prudence, its  trade  and  commerce,  its  art  and  industry, 
were  all  taken  into  her  service ;  and  she  contrived  to  borrow 
some  hints  even  from  its  religious  worship.  Thus  we  find 
the  church  in  the  3d  century  endowed  with  all  the  resources 
which  the  state  and  its  culture  had  to  offer,  entering  into 
r.U  the  relationships  of  life,  and  ready  for  any  compromise 
which  did  not  affect  the  confession  of  her  faith.  With 
this  equipment  she  undertook,  and  carried  through,  a  world- 
mission  on  a  grand  scale.  But  what  of  those  believers  of 
the  old  school  who  protested  in  the  name  of  the  gospel 
against  this  secular  church,  and  who  wished  to  gather 
together  a  people  prepared  for  their  God  regardless  alike 
of  niunbera  and  circumstaiices  1  Why,  they  joined  an 
enthusiastic  movement  which  had  originated  amongst  a 
small  circle  in  a  remote  province,  and  had  at  first  a  merely 
local  importance.  There,  in  Phrygia,  the  cry  for  a  strict 
Christian  life  was  reinforced  by  the  belief  in  a  new  and 
final  outpouring  of  the  Spirit, — a  coincidence  which  has 
.been  observed  elsewhere  in  church  history,  as,  for  instance, 
in  the  Irvingite  movement.  The  wish  was,  as  usual,  father 
to  the  thought;  and  thus  societies  of  "spiritual"  Christians 
,  were  formed,  which  served,  especially  in  times  of  persecu- 
tion, as  rallying-points  for  all  those,  far  and  near,  who 
sighed  for  the  end  of  the  world  and  the  excessui  e  ssamlo, 
and  who  wished  in  these  last  days  to  lead  a  holy  life. 
These  zealots  hailed  the  appearance  of  the  Paraclete  in 
Phrygia,  and  surrendered  themselves  to  his  guidance.  In 
so  doing,  however,  thsy  had  to  withdraw  from  the  church, 
to  be  known  as  "  Montanists,"  or  "  Kataphrygians,"  and 
thus  to  assume  the  character  of  a  sect.  Their  enthusiasm 
and  their  prophesyings  were  denounced  as  demoniacal ; 
their  exjiectation  of  a  glorious  earthly  kingdom  of  Christ 
was  stigmatized  as  Jewish,  their  passion  for  martyrdom 
as  vainglorious,  and  their  whole"  conduct  as  hypocritical 
Nor  did  they  escape  the  more  serious  imputation  of  heresy 
on  important  articles  of  faith ;  indeed,  there  was  a  disposi- 
tion to  put  them  on  the  same  level  with  the  Gnostics. 
The  effect  on  themselves  was  what  usually  follows  in  such 
circumstances.  After  their  separation  from  the  church, 
they  became  narrower  and  pettier  in  their  conception  of 
Christianity.  The  strict  rules  of  conduct  which  in  a  former 
age  had  been  the  genuine  issue  of  high-strung  rehgious 
emotion  were  now  relied  on  as  its  source.  Their  asceticism 
degenerated  into  legalism,  their  claim  to  a  monopoly  of 
pure  Christianity  made  them  arrogant.  .As  for  the  popular 
religion  of  the  larger  church,  they  scorned  it  as  an  adulter- 
ated, manipulated  Christianity.  But  these  views  found 
very  little  acceptance  in  the  3d  century,  and  in  the  course 
of  the  4th  they  died  out.  Regardless  of  the  scruples  of 
her  most  conscientious  members,  and  driving  the  most 
earnest  Christians  into  secession  and  the  conventicle,  the 
church  went  on  to  prosecute  her  great  mission  in  the 
world.  And  before  she  was  able,  as  church  of  the  state 
and  of  the  empire,  to  call  in  the  aid  of  the  civil  power  to 
suppress  her  adversaries  the  Montanistic  conventicles  were 
almost  extinct. 

ii.  Such  is,  in  brief,  the  position  occupied  by  Montanism 
»  in  the  history  of  the  ancient  church.    The  rise  and  progress 
of  the  movement  were  as  follows. 

At  the  close  of  the  reign  of  Antoninus  Pius — ^probably 
in  the  j-.;ar    ISij  (Epiphanius)— Montanus   appeared  at 


.\rdaban  iu  Phrygia,  bringing  revelations  of  the  "Spirit" 
to.  Christendom.  It  is  unnecessary  to  seek  an  explanation 
of  his  appearance  in  the  peculiarities  of  the  Phrygian 
temperament.  The  Christian  churches  had  always, held 
that  prophecy  was  to  be  continued  till  the  return  of  Christ, 
although,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  prophets  had  not  Ijen  parti- 
cul-irly  numerous.  Montanus  claimed  to  have  a  prophetic 
calling  in  the  very  same  sense  as  Agabus,  Judas,  Silas,  the 
daughters  of  Philip,  Quadratus,  and  Ammia,  or  as  Hennas 
at  Rome.  At  a  later  time,  when  the  validity  of  the  Mon- 
tanistic prophecy  was  called  in  question  in  the  interest  of 
the  church,  the  adherents  of  tho  new  movement  appealed 
esplicitly  to  a  sort  of  prophetic  succession,  in  which  their 
prophets  had  received  the  same  gift  which  the  daughters 
of  Philip,  for  example,  had  exercised  in  that  very  country 
of  Phrygia.  The  burden  of  the  new  prophecy  was  a  more 
exacting  standard  of  moral  obligations,  especially  with 
regard  to  marriage,  fasting,  and  martyrdom.  But  Mon- 
tanus had  larger  schemes  in  view.  He  wished  to  organize 
a  -special  community  of  true  Christians  to  wait  for  the 
coming  of  their  Lord.  The  small  Phrygian  towns  of 
Pepu2a  and  Tymion  were  selected  as  the  headquarters 
—  the  Jerusaletn,  as  the  prophet  called  them — of  his 
church.  He  spared  no  effort  to  accomplish  this  union  of 
believers.  Funds  were  raised  for  the  new  organization, 
and  from  these  the  leaders  and  missionaries,  who  were  to 
have  nothing  to  do  with  worldly  life,  drew  their  pay.  But 
the  ecstasy  of  the  prophet  did  not  prove  so  contagious  as 
his  preaching.  Only  two  women,  Prisca  and  UftT^Tnillfl^ 
were  moved  by  the  Spirit ;  like  Montanus,  they  uttersd  in 
a  state  of  frenzy  the  commands  of  the  Spirit,  which  spoke 
through  them  sometimes  as  God  the  Father,  sometimes  as 
the  Son,  and  urged  men  to  a  strict  and  holy  life.  This 
does  not  mean  that  visions  and  significant  dreams  may  not 
have  been  of  frequent  occurrence  in  Montanistic  circles. 
But,  as  chosen  and  permanent  organs  of  the  Paraclete,  only 
three  persons  were  recognized — Montanus,  Prisca,  and 
Maximilla ;  by  their  side,  however,  Alcibiades  and  Theo- 
dotus,  from  a  very  early  date,  nlayed  an  active  riart  as 
missionaries  and  organizers. 

For  twenty  years  this  agitation  appears  to  have  been 
confined  to  Phrygia  and  the  neighbouring  provinces. 
How  could  it  be  otherwise?  To  assemble  the  whole  of 
Christendom  at  Pepuza  was  a  rather  impracticable  pro- 
posal But  after  the  year  177  a  persecution  of  Christians, 
from  some  unexplained  causes,  broke  out  simultaneously 
in  many  provinces  of  the  empire.  Now  in  these  days 
every  persecution  was  regarded  as  the  beginning  of  the 
end.  It  quickened  the  conscience,  and  gave  more  strength 
to  eschatological  hopes ;  it.  was  a  call  to  observe  the  signs 
of  the  times  and  the  intimations  of  God's  presence.  It 
would  seem  that  before  this  time  Montanus  had  disappeared 
from  the  scene  ;  but  Maximilk,  and  probably  also  Prisca, 
were  working  with  redoubled  energy.  And  now,  through- 
out the  provinces  of  Asia  Minor,  in  Rome,  and  even  in 
Gaul,  amidst  the  raging  of  persecution,  attention  was 
attracted  to  this  remarkable  movement.  The  desire  for  a 
sharper  exercise  of  discipline,  and  a  more  decided  renuncia- 
tion of  the  world,  combined  with  a  craving  for  some  plain 
indication  of  God's  will  in  these  last  critical  times,  had 
prepared  many  minds  for  an  eager  acceptance  of  the 
tidings  from  Phrygii.  There  the  Spirit,  whom  Christ  had 
promised  to  His  disciples,  had  begun  His  work ;  there,  at 
least,  there  were  holy.Chidstians  and  joyful  mar^rs.  The 
oracles  of  the  Phrygian  prophets  became  household  words 
in  distant  churches,  and  it  was  always  the  more  serious- 
minded  who  received  them  with  undisguised  sympathy. 
And  thus,  within  the  large  congregations  where  there  was 
so  much  that  was  open  to  censure  in  doctrine  and  con- 
stitution and  morals,  conventicles  were  formed  in   order 


776 


M^OlN.T  a  N  I  s  m 


that  Christians  might  prepare  themselves  by  strict  discipUae 
for  the  day  of  the  Lord. 

Meanwhile  in  Phrygia  and  its  neighbourhood— especially 
in  Galatia,  and  also  In  Thrace — a  controversy  was  raging 
between  the  adherents  and  the  opponents  of  the  new 
prophecy.  Between  150  and  176  the  authority  of  the 
episcopate  had  been  immensely  strengthened,  and  along 
with  it  a  settled  order  had  been  introduced  into  the 
churches.  It  need  hardly  bS  said  that,  as  a  mle,  the 
bishops  were  the  most  resolute  enemies  of  the  Montanistic 
enthusiasm.  It  disturbed  the  peace  and  order  of  the  con- 
gregations, and  threatened  their  safety.  Moreover,  it 
made  demands  on  individual  Christians  such  as  very  few 
could  comply  with.  But  the  disputation  which  Bishops 
Zoticus  of  Cumana  and  Julian  of  Apamea  arranged  with 
Maximilla  and  her  following  tCrued  out  most  disastrously 
for  its  promoters.  The  "  spirit "  of  Maximilla  gained  a 
signal  victory,  a  certain  Themison  in  particular  having 
reduced  the  bishops  to  silence.  Sotas  bishop  of  Anchialus 
attempted  to  refute  Prisca,  but  with  no  better  success ; 
he  too  had  to  retire  from  the  field  in  disgrace.  These 
proceedings  were  never  forgotten  in  Asia  Minor,  and  the 
report  of  them  spread  far  and  wide.  In  after  times  the 
only  way  in  which  .the  disconiiiture  of  the  bishops  could 
be  explained  was  by  asserting  that  they  had  been  silenced 
by  fraud  or  violence.  This  v,-as  the  commencement  of  the 
excommunication  or  secession,  whichever  it  may  have 
been,  of  the  Montanists  in  Asia  Minor.  "  I  aip  piu'sued 
like  a  wolf,"  exclaimed  the  spirit  that  spoke  through 
Maximillii ;  and  her  admocif-ons  about  the  end  became 
inore  emphatic  than.eveir; — "After  me  there  will  come 
no  other  prophetess,  bur,  the  end."  Not  only  did  an 
extreme  party  arise  ia  Asia  Minor  rejecting  aU,  prophecy 
and  the  Apocalypse  of  John  along  with  it,  but  the  majority 
of  the  churches  and  bishops  in  that  district  appear 
(c.  178)  to  have  broken  off  all  fellowship  with  the  new 
prophets,  while  books  were  written  to  show  that  the  very 
form  of  the  Montanistic  prophecy  ■was  sufficient  proof  of 
its  spuriousness.^ 

In  Gaul  and  Rome  the  prospects  of  Montauism  seemed 
for  a  while  more  favourable.  The  confessors  of  the  Galilean 
Church  were  of  opinion  that  communion  ought  to  be 
maintained  vrith  the  zealots  of  Asia  and  Phrj'gia;  and 
they  addressed  a  letter  to  this  effect  to  the  Roman  bishop, 
Eleutherus.  Whether  this  is  the  bishop  of  whom  Ter- 
tuUian  (Adv.  Pra-x.,  It)  relates  that  he  was  on  the  point  of. 
making  peace  with  the  churches  of  Asia  and  Phrj'gia — 
t.e.,  the  Montanistic  communities — is  not  certain  ;  it  was 
either  he  or  his  successor  Victor.  It  is  certain,  at  any- 
late,  that  there  was  a  momentary  vacillation,  even  in 
Rome.  Nor  is  this  to  be  wondered  at.  The  events  in 
Phrygia  could  not  appear  new  and  unprecedented  to  the 
Roman  Church.  If  we  may  believe  Tertnllian,  it  was 
Praxeas  of  Asia  Slinor,  the  relentless  •foe  of  Montanism, 
who  succeeded  in  persuading  the  Roman  bishop  to  with- 
hold his  letters  of  conciliation. 

Early  in  the  last  decade  of  the  2d  century  two  consider- 
able works  appeared  in  Asia  Minor  against  the  Kataphry- 
gians.  The  first,  by  a  bishop  or  presbyter  whose  name  is 
not  known,  is  addressed  to  Abircius  bishop  of  Hierapolis, 
and  was  written  in  the  fourteenth  year  after  the  death 
of  Maximilla,  i.e.,  apparently- about  the  year  193.  The 
other  was  written  by  a  certain  ApoUonius  forty  years 
after  the  appearance  of  Montanus,  consequently  about 
196.  From  these  treatises  we  learn  that  the  adherents  of 
the  new  prophecy  wpre  very  numerous  in  Phrygia,  Asia, 
and  Galatia  (Ancyra),  that  they  had  tried  to  defend  tliem- 


*  Miltiades,  vtpi  toO  ii.ii  Seiv  vfioipifrtiv  iv  inGTaau  \a.\flv. '?  At 
the  same  time  as  Miltiades,  if  not  earlier,  Apolliaaris  of  Hierapolis 
clio  wrote  against  the  MoDtaoitta. 


selves  in  writing  from  the  charges  brought  against  th'>ra. 
(by  Miltiades),  that  they  possessed  a  fully -developed 
independent  organization,  that  they,  could  boast  of  many 
martyrs,  and  that  they  were  still  formidable  to  the  church 
in  Asia  Minor.  Many  of  the  small  congregations  had 
gone  completely  over  to  Montanism,  although  in  large 
towns,  like  Ephesus,  the  opposite  party  maintained  the 
ascendency.  Every  bond  of  intercourse  was  broken,  and 
in  the  Catholic  churches  the  worst  calumnies  wei^J  retailed 
about  the  deceased  prophets  and  the  leaders  of  the  societies 
they  had  founded. 

In  many  churches  outside  of  Asia  Minor  a  different 
state  of  matters  prevailed.  Those  who  accepted  the 
message  of  the  new  prophecy  did  not  at  once  leave  the 
Catholic  Church  in  a  body.  They  simply  formed  small 
conventicles  within  the  church  ;  in  many  instances,  indeed, 
their  belief  in  the  new  prophecy  may  have  remained  a 
private  opinion  which  did  not  affect  their  position  as 
members  of  the  larger  congregation.  Such,  for  example, 
appears  to  have  been  the  case  In  Carthage  (if  we  may 
judge  from  the  Acts  of  the  martyrs  Perpetua  and  Felicitas) 
at  the  commencement  of  the  persecution  of  Septimiua 
S^verus  about  the  year  202.  But  even  here  it  was 
impossible  that  an  open  niptiu-e  should  be  indefinitely 
postponed.  The  bishops  and  their  flocks  gave  offence  to 
the  spiritualists  on  so  many  points  that  at  last  it  could 
be  endured  no  longer.  The  latter  wished  for  more  fasting, 
the  prohibition  of  second  marriages,  a  frank,  courageous 
profession  of  Christianity  in  daily  Life,  and  entire  separa- 
tion from  the  world ;  the  bishops,  on'  the  other  hand, 
sought  in  every  way  to  make  it  as  easy  as  possible  to  be  a 
Christian,  lest  they  should,  lose  the  greater  part  of  their 
congregations.  The  spiritualists  would  have  excluded 
from  the  church  every  one  who  had  been  guilty  of  mortal 
sin ;  the  bishops  were  at  that  time  specially  anxious  to 
relax  the  stringency  of-  the  old  disciplinary  laws.  And 
lastly,  the  bishops  were  compelled  more  and  more  to 
take  the  control  of  discipline  into  their  own  hands;  while 
the  spiritualists,  appealing  to  the  old  principle  that  God 
alone  can  remit  or  retain  sins,  insisted  that  God  Himself — 
i.e.,  the  Spirit — -n'as  the  sole  judge  in  the  congregation, 
and  that  therefore  all  proceedings  must  be  conducted 
according  to  the  directions  of  the  prpphets.  On  this  point 
especially  a  conflict  was  ine-iitable.  It  is  true  that  there 
was  no  rivalry  between  the  new  organization  and  the  old, 
as  in  Asia  and  Phrygia,  for  the  AVestem  Montanists 
recognized  in  its  main  features  the  Catholic  organization 
as  it  had  been  developed  in  the  contest  with  Gnosticism  ; 
but  the  demand  that  the  "organs  of  the  Spirit"  should 
direct  the  whole  discipline  of  the  congregation  contained 
implicitly  a  protest  against  the  actual  constitution  of  the 
church.  Even  before  this  latent  antagonism  was  made 
plain,  there  yiere  many  minor  matters  which  were  sufficient 
to  precipitate  a  rupture  in  particular  congregations.  In 
Carthage,  for  example,  it  would  appear  that  the  breach 
between  the  Catholic  Church  and  the  Montanistic  con- 
venticle was  caused  by  a  disagreement  on  the  question 
whether  or  not  virgins  ought  to  be  veiled.  For  nearly 
five  years  (202-201 )  the  Carthaginian  Montanists  strove 
lo  remain  within  the  church,  which  was  as  dear  to  them 
as  it  v.-as  to  their  opponents.  But  at  length  they  quitted 
it,  and  formed  a  congregation  of  their  o\vn,  declaring  that 
the  Catholic  Church  was  henceforth  only  a  body  of 
"  psychic  "  Christians,  because  she  would  not  acknowledge 
the  Spirit  whom  God  had  at  last  jioured  out  on  His  people. 

It  \vas  at  this  junctm-e  that  TortuUian,  the  most  famous 
theologian  of  the  West,  left  the  church  of  which  he  had 
been  the  most  loyal  son  and  the  most  powerful  «upporter, 
and  whose  cause  ho  had  so  manfully  upheld  against  pagans 
and  heretics.     He  too  had  come  to  the  conviction  that  tie 


MO  N  — M  0  N 


777 


church  at  large  ■nta  given  over  to  worldlinsaa,  that  she 
had  forsaken  the  old  paths  and  entered  on  a  tray  that 
must  lead  to  destruction.  The  writings  of  Tertullian 
afford  the  clearest  demonstration  that  what  is  called  Mon- 
taiijaTTi  was  a  reaction  against  secularism  in  the  church, 
and  an  effort  to  conserve  .the  privileges  of  primitive  Chris- 
tianity. At  the  same  time,  they  show  no  less  clearly  that 
Montanism  in  Carthage  was  a  very  different  thing  from 
the  Montanism  of  Montanus.  Western  Montanism,  at 
the  beginning  of  the  3d  century,  admitted  the  legitimacy 
of  almost  every  point  of  the  Catholic  system.  It  allowed 
that  the  bishops  were  the  successors  of  the  apostles,  that 
the  Catholic  rule  of  faith  was  a  complete  aad  authoritative 
exposition  of  Christianity,  and  that  the  New  Testament  was 
the  supreme  rule  of  the  Christian  life.  How,  then,  6ne  may 
well  8^  was  it  possible  to  separate  from  the  Catholic 
Church  1  On  what  ground  could  the  separation  be  justi- 
fied 1  How  could  it  be  said  that  a  new  era  of  the  Spirit 
had  come  in  when  the  Spirit  had  already  given  all  neces- 
sai-y  instructions  in  the  Scriptures  of  the  New  Testament  ? 
And  what  claim  could  be  thought  to  exceed  the  legitimate 
rights  of  the  successors  of  the  apostles  1  Montanus  himself 
and  his  first  disciples  had  been  in  quite  a  different  position. 
In  his  time  there  was  no  fixed,  divinely-instituted  congrega- 
tional organization,  no  canon  of  New  Testament  Scriptures, 
"no  anti-Gnostic  theology,  and  no  Catholic  Church.  There 
were  simply  certain  communities  of  believers  bound  to- 
gether by  a  common  hope,  and  by  a  free  organization, 
which  might  be  modified  to  any  required  extent.  When 
Montanus  proposed  to  summon  all  true  Christians  to  Pepiua, 
in  order  to  live  a  holy  life  and  prepare  for  the  day  of  the 
Lord,  there  was  nothing  whatever  to  prevent  the  execution 
of  his  plan  except  the  inertia  and  lukewarmness  of  Chris- 
tendom. But  this  was  not  the  case  in  the  West  at  the 
beginning  of  the  3d  century.  At  Rome  and  Carthage, 
and  in  all  other  places  where  sincere  Montanists  were 
found,  they  were  confronted  by  the  imposing  edifice  of  tha 
Catholic  Church,  and  they  had  neither  the  courage  nor  the 
inclination  to  undermine  her  sacred  foundations.  This 
explains  how  the  later  Montanism  never  attained  a  posi- 
tion of  influence.  In  accepting,  with  slight  reservations, 
the  results  of  the  development  which  the  church  had 
undergone  during  the  fifty  years  from  160  to  210  it 
reduced  itself  to  the  level  of  a  sect.  For,  if  the  stand- 
point of  the  Catholic  Church  is  once  acknowledged,  then 
Montanism  is  an  innovation ;  and  if  the  canon  of  the  New 
Testament  b  accepted  the  doctrine  of  a  new  era  of  the 
Spirit  is  heresy.  Tertullian  exhausted  the  resources  of 
dialectic  in  the  endeavour  to  define  and  vindicate  the 
relation  of  the  spiritualists  to  the  "  psychic  "  Christians  ; 
but  no  one  will  say  he  has  succeeded  in  clearing  the  Mon- 
tanistic  position  of  its  fundamental  inconsistency. 

Of  the  later  history  of  Montanism  very  little  is  known. 
But  it  is  at  least  a  significant  fact  that  prophecy  could 
not  be  resuscitated.  Montanus,  Prisca,  and  Maximilla  were 
always  recognized  as  the  inspired  authorities.  At  rare 
intervals  a  vision  might  perhaps  bo  vouchsafed  to  some 
Montanistic  old  woman,  or  a  brother  might  now  and  then 
have  a  dream  that  seemed  to  be  of  supematiu^  origin ; 
but  the  overmastering  power  of  religious  enthusiasm  was  a 
thing  of  which  the  Montanists  knew  as  little  as  the  Catho- 
Hcs.  Their  discipline  was  attended  with  egiaUy  disap- 
pointing resixlts.  In  place  of  an  intense  moral  earnestness 
binding  itself  by  its  own  strict  laws,  we  find  in  Tertullian 
a  legal  casuistry,  a  finical  morality,  from  which  no  good 
could  ever  come.  It  was  oaly  in  the  land  of  its  nativity 
that  Montanism  held  iJs  ground  till  the  4th  century.  It 
maintained  itself  there  La  a  number  of  close  communities, 
probably  in  places  where  no  Catholic  congregation  had 
been  formed ;  and  to  these  the  Novatians  at  a  later  period 


attached  themselves.  In  Carthage  there  c:\ij»teJ  down  to 
the  year  400  a  sect  called  Tertullianists ;  and  in  their 
comparatively  late  survival  we  have  a  striking  testimony 
to  the  influence  of  the  great  Carthaginian  teacher.  On 
doctrinal  questions  there  was  no  real  difference  between 
the  Catholics  and  the  Montanists.  The  early  Montanists 
(the  prophets  themselves)  used  expressions  which  seem 
to  indicate  a  Monarchian  conception  of  the  person  of 
Christ.  After  the  close  of  the  2d  century  we  find  two 
sections  amongst  the  Western  Montanists,  just  as  amongst 
the  Western  Catholics, — there  were  some  who  adopted  tho 
Logos-Christology,  and  others  who  remained  Monarchians. 

Sources. — The  materials  for  the  history  of  Montanism,  although 
plentiful,  are  fragmentary,  and  require  a  good  deal  of  criti^ 
sifting.  They  may  be  divided  into  four  groups.  (1)  The  utterances 
of  Montanus,  Prisca,  and  Maximilla '  are  oar  most  important  sources, 
but  unfortunately  they  consist  of  only  twenty-one  short  sayings. 
(2)  The  works  written  by  Tertullian  after  he  became  a  Montanist 
fiunish  the  most  copious  information, — not,  however,  about  the 
first  stages  of  the.  movement,  but  only  about  its  later  phase,  after 
the  Catholic  Church  was  established.  (3)  The  oldest  4)olemical 
works  of  the  2d  century,  extracts  from  which  have  been  preser^'ed, 
especiaDy  by  Eusebius  (Hist,  Ecdcs.y  bk.  v.),  form  the  next  group. 
These  must  be  used  with  the  utmost  caution,  because  even  tno 
earliest  orthodox  writers  give  currency  to  many  misconceptions  and 
calumnies.  (4)  The  later  lists  of  heretics,  and  the  casual  notices 
of  church  fathers  from  the  3d  to  the  5th  century,  though  not  con- 
taining much  that  is  of  value,  yet  contain  a  little.* 

LiUraiure. — Ritschl's  investigations,  referred  to  above,  super- 
sede the  older  works  of  Tillemont,  "Wemsdorf,  Mosheim,  Walch, 
Neander,  Baur,  and  Schwegler  {Der  Monianisnius  und  die  christ- 
liche Kirche dis 2Un  JahrhundertSy TubiDgen,1841).  Thelater works, 
of  which  the  best  and  most  exhaustive  is  that  of  Bonwetsch,  Die 
QeschichU  des  ifonianismus,  1881,  all  follow  the  lines  laid  down  by 
Ritschl.  See  also,  Gottwald,  Ve  Uiyntanismo  TertuHiani,  1862  ; 
Riville,  "Tertullien  et  le  Montanisme"in  ihelU'oue  des  Deux  Mcmdcs, 
1st  November  1864  ;  Stroelin,  Essai  sur  le  MorUanisme,  1870  ;  De 
Soyres,  Montanis)n  and  the  Primitive  Church,  London,  1878  ;  W. 
Cujiningham,  The  Churches  of  Asia,  London,  1880;  Kenan,  **  Les 
Crises  du  Catholicisme  Naissant"  in  Itev.  d.  Vettx  Moiides,  15th  Feb- 
ruary 1881  ;  Moller,  art.  **Montantsmu3"  in  Herzog's  Theol. 
JRealencyklqp.,  2d  ed.  Special  points  of  importance  in  the  history  o( 
Montanism  have  been  quite  recently  investigated  by  Lipsius,  Over- 
beck,  Weizsiicker  {Theol.  Lit.-Zeitung,  Nr.  4,  1882),  and  Harnack 
(Das  Mbnchthiim,  seine  Ideate  und  seine  GeschicfUe,  2d  ed. ,  1882,  and 
Z.  /.  Kircheng.,  iii  pp.  369-408).  Weizsacker's  short  essays  are 
extremely  valuable,  and  have  elucidated  several  important  points 
hitherto  overlooked.  (A.  HA.) 

MONTARGIS,  chief  town  of  an  arrondissement  in  the 
department  of  Loiret,  France,  lies  40  miles  east-north-east 
of  Orleans  on  the  railway  from  Paris  to  Lyons.  Travei-sed 
by  the  Loing,  Montargis  belongs  to  the  basin  of  the  Seine, 
but  it  communicates  with  the  Loire  by  the  Orleans  and 
the  Briare  canals.  It  has  a  fine  church  (Ste  Magdelaine), 
dating  in  part  from  the  12th  century,  a  museum,  and  a 
public  library ;  and  it  still  preserves  portions  of.  its  once 
magnificent  castle,  which  was  capable  of  containing  6000 
men,  and,  previous  to  the  erection  of  Fontainebleau,  was  so 
favourite  a  residence  of  the  royal  family  that  it  acquired  the 
title  of  "  Berceau  des  Enfans  de  la  France."  Paper-making 
(introduced  in  the  beginning  of  the  18th  century)  and 
several  other  considerable  industries  are  carried  on.  The 
population  of  both  commune  and  town  was  9175  in  1S76. 

Montargis  {Mons  Argi  or  Algi,  M:  Arcinus,  Monlargium)  was 
formerly  the  capital  of  the  Gatinais  (Pagus  Vastinensis).  Having 
passed  in  1188  from  the  Conrtenai  family  to  Philip  Augustus,  it 
long  formed  part  of  the  royal  domain.  In  1528  Francis  I.  mortgaged 
town,  castle,  and  forest  (this  last  a  tract  of  great  value)  to  Ren^ 
d'Este,  daughter  of  Louis  XIL,  the  famous  Huguenot  princess ;  and 
in  1570  Charles  IX.  gave  them  in  full  property  to  her  daughter  Anne, 
through  whom  they  descended  to  the  dukes  of  Guise,  but  they  were 
repurchased  for  the  crown  in  1612.  llontargis  was  several  times 
taken  or  attacked  by  the  English  in  the  15th  century,  and  is  parti- 
cularly proud  of  the  successful  defence  it  mede  in  1 427.  "Both  Charles 
VII.  and  Cliarles  VIII.  held  court  in  the  town  ;  it  was  the  latter  who 
set  the  famous  0og  of  Montargis  to  fight  a  duel  with  his  master's 
murderer  whom  he  had  tracked  and  captured. 


*  Collected  by  Muuter,  and  by  Bonwetsch,  OeediicJUe  des  MonUnr 
ismus,  p.  197  eq. 

*  On  the  souices,  see  Bonwetsch,  pp.  16-55. 

XVI.  —  98 


778 


M  O  JN  ~-  Ivl  O  is 


MONTAUB.VN,  chief  town  of  the  department  of  Tarn- 
(!t-Garonne,  France,  is  situated  on  a  slight  eminence  be- 
tween the  right  bank  of  tlie  Tarn  and  its  tributary  streams 
the  Tescou  and  Lagarrigue,  12S  miles  by  rail  east-south- 
east of  Bordeau.\.  It  is  connected  with  the  suburb  of 
Ville-Bourbon  on  the  left  bank  of  the  Tarn  by  a  remark- 
able brick  bridge  of  the  Uth  century,  which  is  672  feet 
in  length,  and  consists  of  seven  pointed  arches  resting  on 
piers,  themselves  pierced  by  jiointed  arches.  The  cathe- 
dral, built  in  1739,  contains  the  Vow  of  Louis  XIII.,  one 
of  the  finest  paintings  of  Ingres,  a  native  of  Moutauban, 
and  at  the  end  of  the  Carmelite  walk  a  monument  was 
erected  to  his  memory  in  1871.  In  the  town-house,  once 
occupied  as  a  palace  by  the  counts  of  Toulouse  and  by 
the  Black  Prince,  are  the  paintings  bequeathed  by  Ingres, 
&a  archjeological  collection,  and  a  very  curious  library 
containing  the  bequests  of  several  celebrated  collectors. 
Montauban  possesses  a  Protestant  theological  college.  The 
town  has  some  trade  in  corn,  wine,  and  grapes.  The  manu- 
facture of  corn-dressers,  coarse  cloth,  pens,  and  earthen 
and  china  tvare  are  the  principal  industries ;  and  there 
;ire  also  corn  and  woollen  mills.  The  population  in  1881 
was  28,335. 

Montauban  was  only  a  village  in  the  time  of  the  Romans.  In 
the  8th  century  a  monastery  was  founded  there  by  the  Benedictines, 
v.'ho  exercised  lordship  over  the  neighbouring  population.  A 
.■onsiderable  impetus  was  in  the  12th  century  given  to  its  prosperity 
by  a  decree  of  the  Counts  of  Toulouse  o.Tering  freedom  to  all  serfs 
taking  up  their  residence  in  the  town.  Montauban  was  twice 
besieged  by  Simon  de  Montfort  in  the  Albigensian  wars,  and  was 
aacked  in  1207.  By  the  treaty  of  Bretigny  (1360)  it  was  ceded 
to  the  EngUsh  ;  but  shortly  afterwards  they  were  expelled  by  the 
inhabitants.  In  1560  the  bishops  and  magistrates  embraced  Pro- 
Icstantism,  expelled  the  monks,  and  demolished  tho  cathedral. 
About  ten  years  later  it  became  one  of  the  Huguenot  strongholds, 
and  formed  a  small  independent  republic.  It  was  the  headquarters 
of  the  Huguenot  rebellion  of  1 621 ,  and  was  vainly  besie,ged  by  Louis 
.XIII.  for  eighty-six  days;  nor  did  it  submit  until  after  the  fall 
of  Rochello  in  1629,  when  its  Ibrtifications  were  destroyed  by 
Richelieu.  In  the  same  year  the  plague  cut  off  over  6000  of  its 
iuhabitants. 

MONTBELIARD,  chief  town  of  an  arrondissement  in  the 
department  of  Doubs,  France,  is  situated  1020  feet  above 
the  sea  at  the  confluence  of  the  .A.llaine  and  the  Lusine, 
tributaries  of  the  Doubs,  and  on  the  canal  between  the 
Rhine  and  the  Rhone,  about  40  miles  north-east  of  Besangon. 
Once  a  fortified  city,  it  still  retains  the  old  castle  of  the 
counts  of  Montb^liard.  A  bronze  statue^of  Cuvier,  the 
most  illustrious  native  of  Montbeliard,  and  several  fine  foun- 
tains adorn  the  town,  which  also  possesses  a  museum  of 
natural  history  and  antiquities,  and  a  Protestant  normal 
school.  Since  1870  a  considerable  impetus  has  been  given 
to  its  prosperity  by  the  arrival  of  Alsatian  immigrants. 
The  industries  embrace  watchmaking,  the  manufacture  of 
graving  tools,  iron  wire,  files,  watch-springs,  and  pumps, 
cotton  spinning  and  weaving,  printing,  and  tanning.  The 
chief  exports  are  cheese,  leather,  and  wood.  The  popu- 
lation in  1881  was  8784,  of  which  the  great  majority  were 
Protestants. 

After  belonging  to  tho  Burgundians  and  Franks,  Montb(!liard 
was,  by  the  treaty  of  Verdun  (848),  added  to  Lorraine.  lu  the  11th 
century  it  became  the  capital  of  a  count.ship,  which  formed  part  of 
the  second  kingdom  of  Burgundy,  and  latterly  of  the  German 
empire.  From  the  end  of  the  14  th  century  until  1793  it  belonged  to 
the  house  of  Wiirteinberg.  It  resisted  the  attacks  of  Charles  the 
Bold,  King  Louis  XII.,  and  the  duke  of  Guise,  but  was  taken  in  1676 
by  Marjhal  Luxembourg,  who  razed  its  fortifications.  In  1871  the 
battle  of  HiSricourt  between  the  French  and  Germans  had  its  com- 
mencement within  its  walls. 

MONT-DORE-LES-BAINS,  a  village  of  France  in  the 
department  of  Puy  de  Dome,  17  miles  as  tho  crow  flies 
Bouth-wcst  of  Clermont  Ferrand,  3432  feet  above  the  sea, 
on  the  right  bank  of  tho  Dordogno  not  far  from  its  source. 
"ike  Monta  Dore,  from  which  it  takes  its  name,  close  the 
vaUcy  towards  the  south ;  their  culminating  peak,  Puy  de 


Sancy  (6188  feet),  is  the  highest  eminence  of  central  France. 
The  mineral  springs  of  Mont  Dore  were  known  lo  tho 
Romans.  Tha  eight  now  used  yield  94,600  gallons  in 
twenty-four  hours.  Bicarbonate  of  soda,  iron,  and  arsenic 
are  the  principal  ingredients  of  the  water  ;  to  the  two  last 
it  owes  its  efficacy  in  cases  of  pulmonary  consumption, 
bronchitis,  asthma,  and  nervous  and  rheumatic  paralysis. 
From  the  elevation  and  exposure  of  the  valley,  which 
opens  to  the  north  and  runs  up  towards  mountains  never 
quite  free  from  snow,  the  climate  of  Mont-Dore-les-Bain:i 
is  severe,  and  the  season  is  consequently  short.  About 
5000  patients  visit  the  place  between  15th  June  and  15th 
September,  when  a  casino  and  theatre  are  opened.  The 
chief  building  is  the  solid  but  sombre  bath-house  (hot 
baths).  The  surrounding  country,  with  its  fir  woods, 
pastures,  waterfalls,  and  mountains,  is  very  attractive.  In 
the  "  park  "  at  Mont-Dore-les-Bains,  which  forms  a  little 
promenade  along  the  Dordogne,  relics  from  the  old  Roman 
baths  have  been  collected,  but  the  ancient  estatlishmeut 
must  have  been  on  a  larger  scale  than  the  present  one.  A 
pantheon  erected  about  the  time  of  Augustus  existed  till' 
the  16th  century.  Tlio  population  in  1881  was  1438. 
MONTE  CARLO.  See  Mon.\co. 
5I0NTE  CASINO  (or  Cas.sino).  The  Benedictine 
monastery  known  as  the  abbey  of  Monte  Cassino  is  a  huge 
square  building  of  three  stories,  built  on  the  usual  Benedicts 
ine  plan  (see  Abbbv)  on  the  summit  of  a  picturesque  isolated 
hill,  about  3i  miles  to  the  north-east  of  the  town  of  Cassino 
(Casinum)  or  San  Germane  (population  about  5000),  which 
lies  midway  between  Rome  and  Naples  in  the  valley  of  the 
Garigliano.  The  most  prominent  architectural  feature  is 
the  large  church  (1727),  richly  decor.ated  in  the  interior  with 
marbles,  mosaics,  and  paintings.  The  library  and  archivio 
have  been  spoken  of  elsewhere  (vol.  siv.  pp.  531,  548). 

The  d;ite  of  Benedict's  withdrawal  from  Subiaco  to  Cassino  is 
529.  At  that  time  Cassino  was  the  site  of  a  temple  of  Apollo  and 
of  a  grove  sacred  to  Venus.  The  result  of  the  saint's  preaching  was 
that  the  natives  demolished  both,  chapels  to  St  Martin  and  Jola 
the  Baptist  being  built  in  their  stead,  while  farther  up  the  hill  a 
monastery  began  to  rise.  About  589  the  monks  were  driven  from 
it  to  Rome  by  the  Lombards  of  Benevento,  and  it  lay  v.aste  for 
more  than  a  century,  until  resuscitated  by  Gregory  II.  (719).  In 
787  it  received  fresh  privileges  from  Charlemagne  ;  in  884  it  was 
burnt  by  the  Saracens,  and  was  not  restored  until  about  seventy 
years  later.  From  1322  to  1366  the  abbot  held  episcopal  rank; 
under  the  houie  of  Anjon  ho  bore  the  title  of  Alias  atbaticm,  and 
ranked  as  first  baron  of  the  realm.  In  1504  the  abbey  was  sacked 
by  the  troops  of  Gonzalo  do.  Cordova.  In  1866  it  shared  the  fate 
of  all  other  religious  houses  in  Italy  ;  it  is  now  inhabited  by  a  few 
monks,  and  uscil  as  a  seminary,  having  about  200  pupil's. 

MONTECUCULI,  Raimondo,  Count  of  (1608-1680), 
a  prince  of  the  empire  and  duke  of  Melfi,  a  famous  Austrian 
general,  was  born  at  the  castle  of  Montecuculi  in  Modena, 
in  1 608.  At  the  age  of  nineteen  he  began  his  career  in  a 
re;;iment  of  infantry  under  his  uncle,  Ernest,  count  of 
I'ontecuculi ;  and  during  the  Thirty  Years'  War  he  found 
many  opportunities  of  displaying  his  military  genius  in-  the 
imperial  service.  In  1631,  having  been  severely  wounded, 
he  was  made  prisoner  while  retreating  after  tho  battle  of 
Breitenfeld.  Soon  after  his  release  he  was  promotid  to  the 
rank  of  major  ;  and  he  distinguished  himself  at  the  siege 
of  Nordlingeu  in  1 634,  and  at  the  storming  of  Kaiscrslautern 
in  1635.  As  colonel,  he  took  part  in  much  hard  fighting 
in  Pomerania  and  in  Bohemia;  and  in  1639  at  Jlelnik, 
where  he  tried  to  prevent  tho  Swedes  from  crossing  the 
Elbe,  he  was  taken  prisoner  a  second  time,  being  compelled 
on  this  occasion  to  spend  more  than  two  years  in  Stettin. 
The  time  was  not  lost,  for  he  devoted  it  to  a  thoroui'h  study 
of  military  science.  In  ,1642  he  was  again  at  work  in  tho 
imperial  army,  and  for  eininent  services  in  Silesia  he  was 
made  a  major-general  of  cavalry.  After  a  brief  visit  to 
Italy,  during  which  he  entered  the  service  of  the  duke  of 
Modena,  he  returned  to  Germauy,  and  became  councillor 


M  O  N  — M  0  N 


779 


of  Trar  in  1644.  In  tUe  iollowing  year  he  supported  the 
archduke  Leopold  in  a  campaign  against  Prince  Rikoczy 
of  Transylvania,  resisted  Marshal  Turenne  in  the  Rhine 
country,  and  fought  with  the  Swedes  in  Silesia  and  Bohemia. 
The  victory  at  Triebel  in  Silesia,  in  1647,  was  due  chiefly 
to  him,  and  he  was  rewarded  by  being  raised  to  the  rank 
of  general  of  cavalry.  After  the  peace  of  Westphalia  in 
1648  he  occupied  himself  for  some  time  with  the  work  of 
the  council  of  war  ;  and  in  1654  he  undertook  diplomatic 
jiissions  to  Christina,  queen  of  Sweden,  and  to  Cromwell. 
In  1657  he  commanded  an  expedition  against  Prince 
Hakoczy  and  the  Swedes,  who  had  attacked  the  king  of 
Poland,  and  Rakoczy  was  soon  forced  to  withdraw  from 
the  Swedish  alliance,  and  to  accept  terms  of  peace.  As 
field-marshal  he  was  sent  to  the  aid  of  Denmark  against 
Sweden ;  and  this  war  he  conducted  so  successfully  that 
the  peace  of  Oliva  was  concluded  in  1660.  In  1663  he 
resigned  the  command  of  an  army  with  which,  for  about 
three  years,  he  had  been  opposing  the  Turks ;  but  in  1664 
he  was  again  made  commander-in-chief,  and  in  the  same 
year  he  defeated  the  Turks  so  decisively  near  the  abbey  of 
.St  Gotthard  that  they  concluded  an  armistice  for  twenty 
years.  He  had  to  deal  with  more  formidable  enemies  in 
1672,  when,  the  emperor  and  the  imperial  diet  having 
resolved  to  uphold  the  Dutch  against  Loms  XIV.,  Moute- 
cnculi,  who  had  been  serving  as  president  of  the  council  of 
war  aad  director  of  artillery,  was  appointed  commander  of 
the  imperial  forces.  He  took  Bonn,  and,  although  closely 
watched  by  Turenne,  contrived  to  effect  a  junction  with 
the  prince  of  Orange,  thereby  overthrowing  all  the  calcula- 
tions of  the  French.  When  the  elector  of  Brandenbiu-g 
received  the  supreme  command  in  1674  Jlontecuculi  with- 
drew from  the  army;  but  in  1675,  being  restored  to  his 
former  position,  he  resumed  operations  against  Turenne. 
The  two  commanders  manoeuvred  so  brilliantly  that  tor 
about  four  months  neither  could  do  the  other  much  injury ; 
but,  Turenne  having  been  killed  by  a  cannon-ball  on  the  27th 
of  July  1675,  Montecuculi  pursued  the  French  into  Alsace, 
and  besieged  Hagenau  and  Zabern,  retiring  from  Alsace  only 
wheii  he  found  himself  confronted  by  Cond^.  MontecucuU's 
last  achievement  in  war  was  the  siege  of  Philippsburg. 
During  the  rest  of  his  life  he  was  president  of  the  council 
of  war.  In  1679  the  emperor  Leopold  made  him  a  prince 
of  the  empire,  and  shortly  afterwards  he  received  from  the 
lung  of  Naples  the  dukedom  of  Melfi.  Having  accompanied 
the  emperor  to  Linz  during  the  pestilence,  he  was  injured 
by  the  fall  of  a  beam  when  entering  the  castle,  and  died  at 
linz  on  the  16th  of  October  1680. 

Montecuculi  was  an  ardent  lover  of  science,  and  wrote  several 
important  military  works.  Tlie  Opere  complete  di  Monltcuculi  were 
published  in  two  volumes,  at  Jlilan  in  1807,  at  Turin  in  1821 ;  and 
there  is  a  German  translation  (1736)  of  his  Memoris  cUlta  guerra  ed 
istntzimii  d'un  gen^rak. 

See  Campori,  Saimondo  Montecuculi,  la  yja  faminHa  c  t  suot  tempi  (1S77) 

MONTELEONE  (usuaUy  caUed  Moutcleono  of  Cala- 
bria to  distinguish  it  from  Monteleone  of  Apulia  in  the 
provhico  of  Avellino,  which  gave  its  name  to  the  medi&jval 
duchy  of  the  Pignatelli  famUy)  is  a  city  of  Italy  in  the 
province  of  Catanzaro,  on  the  western  side  of  the  Bruttian 
peninsula,  and  is  beautifully  situated  on  an  eminence  gently 
sloping  towards  the  gulf  of  Sta  Eufemia.  It  was  ahnost 
totally  destroyed  by  earthquake  in  1783,  and  for  many 
years  afterwards  consisted  mainly  of  slight  wooden  erec- 
tions, but  under  the  French  occupation  it  was  made  the 
*  capital  of  a  provmce  and  the  headquarters  of  General 
Regnier,  and  it  is  now  a  well-built  town.  The  castle  was 
built  by  Roger,  count  of  Sicily,  whom  tradition  accuses  of 
carrying  off  the  ruins  of  the  ancient  temple  of  Proserpine 
to  the  cathedral  of  IJileto.  The  population  of  the  town 
was  9244  in  1871,  that  of  the  commune  10,262  in  1861 
and  12.0!7  :    :r-'. 


Monteleone  is  identified  with  the  ancient  Hipponium,  a  Greek 
city  first  mentioned  in  389  B.C.,  when  its  inhabitants  wci-e  removed 
to  Syracuse  by  Dionysius.  Restored  by  the  Carthaginians  (io6}, 
held  for  a  time  by  Agathoclea  of  Syracuse  (291),  and  afterwards 
occupied  by  the  Bmttians,  Hipponium  ultimately  became  as  Vibo 
Yalentia  a  flourishing  Roman  colony.  The  harboiu:  established 
by  Agathocles  proved  of  great  service  as  a  naval  station  to  Casar 
and  Octavius  in  their  wars  with  Pompeius  Magnus  and  Sextua 
Pompeius,  and  remains  of  its  massive  mason-work  still  exist  at  the 
village  of  Bivona  on  the  coast.  .  In.  tha  to\ra  itself  there  are  no 
traces  of  antiijnity  beyond  a  mosaic  pavement  in  the  church  of  St 
Leoluca  (patron  saint  of  Monteleone)  and  one  or  two  Latin  inscrio- 
tions. 

MONTELIMAR,  chief  town  of  an  arrondissement  ana 
canton  in  the  department  of  Dr6me,  France,  is  situat'xl 
near  the  left  bank  of  the  Rhone,  93  miles  south  of  Lyons 
on  the  railway  to  MSirseilles.  The  waters  of  the  Roubioii 
and  Jabron,  which  unite  at  Montilimar,  spread  fertility  over 
the  plains  surrounding  the  town.  A  well-planted  park 
separates  the  town  from  the  station,  but  within  the  four 
gates  that  still  remain  the  streets  are  narrow  and  unin- 
viting. The  ancient  castle,  one  of  the  most  interesting 
military  remains  of  central  France,  is  now  used  as  a 
prison.  Silk  throwing  and  spinning,  and  the  manufacture 
of  flowered  silks  and  of  hats,  are  the  principal  industrie.s ; 
there  are  ako  foundries,  tool-shops,  and  tanneries,  ami 
agricultural  implements  and  hydi-auHc  lime  are  made. 
Mont^limar  is  famed  for  its  nougat,  a  cake  composed  of 
almonds  and  honey.  The  population  of  the  town  in  18S1 
was  12,894. 

Mont«limar  was  called  by  the  Romans  Acusium.  At  a  lattr 
period  it  belonged  to  the  family  of  Aymar  or  Adhemar,  whence  it-, 
present  name.  After  coming  into  the  possession  of  the  counts  ot 
Valentinois,  and  then  of  the  dauphins  of  Viennois,  it  was  unitet' 
by  Louis  XL  to  the  crown  of  France.  It  frequently  changed 
hands  during  the  religious  wars,  and,  although  it  resisted  Coliguy, 
it  was  taken  iu  1580  by  Lesdiguitres. 

MONTENEGRO,  often  pronounced  and  sometimes 
\viitteu  JIONTENEEO  (Montenegrin,  i.e.,  Servian,  Crnagora, 
Russian  Tcheniogoriya,  and  Turkish  Karadagh,  all  eq'oi- 
valent  to  Black  Mountain),  one  of  the  smallest  of  Euro- 
pean countries,  lies  on  the  eastern  side  of  the  Adriatic, 
and  is  bounded  by  Dalmatia,  Herzegovina,  Bosnia,  end 
Albania.  Previous  to  1878  it  had  an  area  variously  esti- 
mated at  1Q69  square  miles  (Kaptsevitch),  1711  (Kiepert), 
and,  including  the  Kutclii  territory,  1796  (Bebm).  The 
enlatgement  to  about  5272  square  miles  proposed  by  the  San 
Stefano  treaty  (1878)  would  probably  have  swamped  the 
Montenegrin  nationality,  and  the  Berlin  congress  brought 
the  total  area  only  up  to  3680  miles,  or  almost  exactly  half 
the  size  of  Wales,  i 

Apart  from  her  new  maritime  district,  Montenegro  seems 


^  Since  1870  several  rectifications  of  frontier  and  exchanges  of 
territory  have  been  arranged  between  Montenegro  and  Turkey,  but 
these  h.-'.ve  left  the  area  practically  undisturbed.  All  the  figures  are 
approximate  estimates,  as  the  only  geodetic  survey  of  the  country, 
carried  out  by  Russian  officers,  is  still  (1883)  in  progress.  The  old 
frontier  line  had  the  great  disadvantage  to  the  Montenegrins  of  leaving: 
the  fortress  of  Niksitch  in  the  nortb-weat,  and  that  of  Spuzh  in  the 
south-east  in  the  hands  of  the  Turks,  who  thus  commanded  the  valley 
of  the  Zeta,  and  sti'ategically  almost  cut  the  country  in  two,  the  distance 
from  the  frontier  near  Niksitch  to  the  frontier  near  Spuzh  being  only 
some  15  miles.  The  present  frontier  includes  not  only  these  strong- 
holds, but  also  those  of  Podgoritza,  Zhabliak  (Jablac),  and  Lesendr.^ 
a  great  part  of  Lake  Scutari,  and  the  coast  district  with  Antivari 
and  Dulcigno.  To  get  access  to  the  sea  had  long  been  the  ambitiou 
of  Montenegro,  which  in  her  early  days  had  possessed  not  only 
Dulcigno  but  Durazzo,  and  had  surrendered  them  to  purchase  from 
Venice  assistance  in  her  struggle  against  the  Turks.  The  Berlin  con- 
gress gave  her  the  coast  from  Cape  Maria  to  Cape  Kruci  or  Krutcb, 
but  Spizza,  the  harbour  to  the  north,  was  retained  by  Austria,  and 
Dulcigno,  to  the  south,  by  Turkey.  In  the  beginning  of  1880,  by  tho 
Corti  compromise,  the  Kutcbi  territory  and  the  plain  ot  Podgoritza 
were  accepted  by  Montenegi*o  in  lieu  of  Plava  and  Gussinye,  assigned  to 
her  by  the  congress ;  but  the  exchange  was  deferred,  and  the  terma 
ultimately  mcditied  by  the  congress  so  as  to  include  Dulcigno  in 
Montenegrin  territory.  The  occupation  of  the  district  (November 
1880)  was  only  eSected  after  a  naval  demont'lration  ou  the  psriof  tho' 
i^Tcat  powers. 


780 


MONTENEGRO 


little  better  .at  first  than  a  chaos  of  mountains,  but  on 
closer-  examination  it  appears  that  there  are  two  distinct 
groups,  an  eastern  and  a  western,  divided  by  the  Zeta- 
Moratcha  valley.  The  loftiest  summit  is  Dormitor,  8146 
feet  high,  in  the  new  territory  near  the  north  frontier, 
next  come  Kom  Kutchi  (8031),  Kom  Vassoyevitzki  (7946), 
and  Dormitor  Schlime  (7936).'  Had  the  original  frontier 
of  the  Berlin  congress  towards  the  south-east  been  retained 
it  would  have  run  along  the  still  higher  Prokletia  range. 
Many  of  the  mountain-tops  remain  white  ■with  snow  for 
the  greater  part  of  the  year,  and  from  some  of  the  dark 
ravines  the  snow  never  disappears.  The  south-western 
portion  of  the  country  consists  of  limestone,  the  north- 
eastern mainly  of  Paleozoic  sandstones  and  schists  with 
underlying  trap.''  In  their  general  aspect  the  two  regions 
ara  strikingly  distinct.  The  former  seems,  as  it  were,  one 
enormous  mass  of  hard  crystalline  rock,  bare  and  calcined, 
with  its  strata  dipping  to  the  south-west  at  an  angle  often 
of  70  degrees.  Its  whole  surface  has  been  split  by  atmo- 
sjiherio  agencies  into  huge  prismatic  blocks,  and  the  cracks 


Map^  of  Montenegro, 
have  been  gradually  worn  into  fissures  several  fathoms  deep. 
In  some  places  the  process  has  resulted  in  clusters  of  im- 
mense sharp-pointed  crags,  the  sides  of  which  are  furrowed 
by  rain-channels,  while  in  others  there  are  countless  funnels 
running  down  into  the  rock  for  200  feet  and  more.  In 
like  manner  the  interior  of  the  mass  is  hollowed  out  into 
immense  galleries  and  caves,  and  during  the  rainy  season 
subterranean  landslips  frequently  produce  local  earthquakes, 
extending  over  an  area  of  10  or  12  miles.  The  sandstone 
region,  on  the  other  hand,  presents  lofty  but  rounded 
forms,  clothed  for  the  most  part  with  virgin  forest  or  rich 
alpine  pasture,  broken  here  and  there  by  dolomitic  peaks. 


'  Bull,  de  la  Soc.  de  Qiogr.,  Paris,  1881. 

^  Dr  Tietze,  whose  full  report  w.na  to  appear  in  the  Jahrb.  der  Reichsan- 
atalt  for  1883,  informed  the  writer  that  the  existence  of  the  following 
formations  in  Montenegro  h.is  been  clearly  ascertained  : — (1)  Palaeozoic 
•chlsts,  (2)  Wirfen  strata  of  Lower  Trias,  (3)  Trap  of  the  Pala-ozoic 
and  Wirfen  strata,  (4)  Triaasic  limestone,  (5)  Jurassic  limestone,  (6) 
Cretaceous  limostouo,  (7)  Klysch,  in  part  certainly  Eocene,  and  (8) 
Keogcnic  or  younger  Tertiary  fomiutions.  The  existence  of  nuromulitic 
limeatoue  is  ctill  doubtful. 


The  watershed  tetween  the  Adriatic  and  the  Black  Sea 
crosses  the  country  from  west  to  east  in  a  very  irregular 
line,  the  southern  districts  being  drained  by  the  Zetar 
Morateha  river  sy.stem,  which  finds  its  way  to  the  Adriatic 
by  Lake  Scutari  and  the  Boyanna,  while  the  streams  of 
the  northern  districts  form  the  head-waters  of  the  Drina, 
which  reaches  the  Danube  by  way  of  the  Save.  The  Zeta, 
rising  in  Lake  Slano,  is  remarkable  for  its  subterranean 
passage  beneath  a  mountain  range  1000  feet  high.  At  a 
place  called  Ponor  the  water  plunges  into  a  deep  chasm, 
seeming  almost  to  lose  itself  in  foam,  but  at  a  distance  of 
several  miles  it  reappears  on  the  other  side  of  the  mountains. 
Its  whole  course  to  its  junction  with  the  Jloratcha  is 
about  30  miles.  Rising  in  the  Yavorye  Planina,  the 
Morateha  sweeps  throiigh  the  mountain  gorges  as  a  foam- 
ing torrent  till  it  reaches  the  plain  of  Podgoritza ;  then, 
for  a  space,  it  almost  disappears  among  the  pebbles  and 
other  alluvial  deposits,  nor  does  it  again  show  a  current  of 
any  considerable  volume  till  it  approaches  Lake  Scutari. 
In  the  neighbourhood  of  Duklea  ^  and  Leskopolye  it  flows 
through  a  precipitous  ravine  from  50  to  100  feet  high. 
In  the  dry  season  it  is  navigable  to  Zhabliak.  The  whole 
course  is  about  60  miles.  Of  the  left-hand  tributaries  of 
the  Morateha  the  Sem  or  Tsievna  deserves  to  be  mentioned 
for  the  magnificent  canon  through  which  it  flows  between 
Most  Tamarui  and  Dinosha.  On  the  one  side  rise  the 
mountains  of  the  Kutchi  territoiy,  on  the  other  the 
immense  flanks  of  the  Prokletia  range, — the  walls  of  the 
gorge  varying  from  2000  to  4000  feet  of  vertical  height. 
Lower  down  the  stream  the  rocky  banks  approach  so 
close  that  it  is  possible  to  leap  across  without  trouble. 
The  Eyeka  issues  full-formed  from  an  immense  cave  south- 
east of  Cettinye  (Tsettinye)  and  falls  into  Lake  ScutarL 
The  three  tributaries  of  the  Drina  which  belong  in  part  to 
Montenegro  are  the  Piva,  the  Tara,  and  the  Lim,  respect- 
ively 55,  95,  and  140  miles  in  length.  The  Tara  forma 
the  northern  boundary  of  the  principality  for  more  than  50 
miles,  but  the  Lim  leaves  the  country  altogether  after  the 
first  30  miles  of  its  course.  Great  alterations  have  taken 
place  on  Lake  Scutari  in  recent  times.  The  river  Drin, 
which  previous  to  1830  entered  the  Adriatic  to  the  south 
of  Alesia  near  S.  Giovanni  di  Medua,  subsequently  changed 
its  course  so  as  to  join  the  Boyanna  just  below  its  exit  from 
the  lake ;  one  of  the  chief  results  has  been  to  raise  the 
level  of  the  lake,  and  so  to  flood  the  lower  valleys  of  the 
tributary  streams.  When  the  International  Frontier  Com- 
mission was  at  Scutari  in  April  1879,  the  water  stood  8  feet 
deep  in  some  of  the  principal  streets,  and  the  inundation 
of  city  and  suburbs  lasted  that  year  eight  n;onths.  A  few 
small  lakes  are  scattered  among  the  mountains,  and  it  is 
evident  that  their  number  was  formerly  much  greater.  The 
plain  or  hollow  of  Cettinye  was  doubtless  filled  with  water 
at  no  very  distant  (geological)  date,  and  even  now,  when 
the  sudden  rains  cannot  escape  fast  enough  by  the  ordinary 
subterranean  outlet,  the  royal  village  sufi'ers  from  a  flood. 
If  the  new  territory  be  left  out  of  view,  there  is  but 
little  farming  land  in  Montenegro ;  the  peasant  is  glad  to 
enclose  and  protect  the  veriest  patches  of  fertile  soil  retained 
by  the  hollows  in  the  mountain  sides,  and  one  may  sea 
"  flourishing  little  crops  not  a  yard  square."  "  The  largest 
landed  proprietor  is  the  holder  of  60  acres"  (Denton, 
Montene<jro,  p.  143) ;  the  other  freehold  estates  vary  from 
2  to  20  acres,  and  it  is  usually  not  to  the  individual  but 
to  the  house  or  family  that  the  ownership  belongs.  Woods 
and  pastures  ai-o  the  common  property  of  the  clan  (pleme). 
The  people  live  in  small  stone-built  cottages,  grouped  for 
the  most  part  in  little  villages,  and  their  whole  life  is 


'  Duklea  Is  the  name  still  borne  by  tlie  ruins  of  the  Roman  Docloa, 

ftou,  but  wrongly,  called  Dioclea  from  its  association  with  the  family 

I  of  Dioelctian.  --" 


M  O  N  — M  O  N 


781 


marked  by  extreme  tdmplicity.  Chastity  is  a  national 
virtue,  and  in  time  of  war  the  women  and  children  of  the 
Turks  have  often  found  their  safest  asylum  among  their 
hereditary  foes.  The  main  stock  of  the  people  is  of  Servian 
descent ;  and,  though  the  purity  of  both  blood  and  language 
has  been  to  some  extent  affected  by  foreign  elements,  mostly 
Albanian  and  Turkish,  the  national  imity  has  not  been  im- 
paired. The  curious  Gipsy  colony,  which,  though  speaking 
Servian,  never  intennaiTies  with  the  Montenegrins,  is 
numerically  of  little  importance.'  The  great  mass  of  the 
people  belong  to  the  Orthodox  Greek  Church,  only  some 
7000  being  Eoman  Catholics,  and  3000  Mohammedans. 
According  to  Kaptsevitch,  the  population  was  10,T00  in 
1838,  120,000  in  1849,  124,000  in  1852,  and  170,000  in 
1877,  but  in  1879  it  was  found  that,  inclusive  of  the  new 
territory,  the  number  could  not  exceed  150,000;  since  then 
abeut  15,000  have  been  added  with  Dulcigno.  The  official 
returns  for  1882  (not  based  on  a  census,  however)  give 
236,000  as  the  total,  of  whom  some  23,000  live  in  the 
so-called  towns. 

Fauna. — Bears  are  still  found  in  the  higher  forests,  and  wolves, 
and  especially  foxes,  over  a  much  wider  area.  A.  few  cliamoia  loam 
on  t!»e  loftiest  summits,  the  roebuck  is  not  infrequent  in  the 
backwoods,  the  wild  boar  may  be  met  with  in  the  same  district,  and 
the  hare  is  abundant  wherever  the  ground  is  covered  with  herbage. 
There  aro  one  or  .two  species  of  snakes  in  the  country,  including  the 
poisonous  lUyriaa  viper.  Esculent  frogs,  tree  frogs,  the  common 
tortoise, .  and  vai-ious  kinds  of  lizards  are  all  common.  The  list  of 
bii'ds  observed  by  Baron  Kaidbara  includes  golden  eagles  and  vul- 
tures, 12  species  of  falcons,  several  species  of  owls,  nightingales,  larks, 
buntings,  lioopoes,  partridges,  herons,  pelicans,  ducks  (10  species), 
goatsuckers,  ic.  The  abundance  of  fish  in  Lake  Scutari  and  the 
lower  course  of  the  Ryeka  is  extraordinary,  the  shoals  of  bleak  (scor- 
antza,  Leuciscxis  albumua)  that  come  up  the  river  forming  almost 
solid  masses.     Both  trout  and  salmon  aro  caught  in  the  Moratoha. 

Flora. — The  flora  of  Montene^-o  is  comparatively  scanty.  In 
the  forest  districts  the  beech  is  the  prevailing  tree  up  to  a  height 
of  5000  or  5500  feet,  and  then  its  place  is  taken  by  the  pine.  The 
chestnut  forms  little  groves  in  the  country  between  the  sea  and 
Like  Scutari,  but  never  ascends  mo-e  than  1000  feet,  and  the 
olive  also  is  mainly  confined  to  the  neighboui-hood  of  the  Adriatic. 
Pomegranate*  bushes  grow  wild,  and  in  many  parts  of  the  south 
cover  the  foot  of  the  hills  with  dense  thickets,  the  rich  blossoms  of 
which  are  one  of  the  special  chai-ms  of  the  spring  landscape.  Wheat, 
rye,  barley,  maize,  capsicums,  and  a  little  tobacco  are  grown  in  the 
north,  and  in  the  south,  vines,  figs,  peaches,  apples,  cherries,  citrons, 
oranges,  &c  The  potato,  introduced  in  1786,  is  cultivated  con- 
siderably beyond  the  local  demand  ;  the  planting  of  mulberry  trees 
and  the  rearing  of  silk-worms  is  of  growing  economical  importance. 

roicM.— Ckttinyk  (g.i!.),  with  about  2000  inhabitants,  is  the 
capital  of  the  country.  Podgoritza  (about  6000  or  7000  in  1879, 
since  reduced  to  4000)  is  the  principal  trading  town  ;  it  lies  at  the 
foot  of  the  mountains  (as  its  name  imports),  at  the  junction  of  the 
Ruibnitza  with  the  Moratcha,  and  in  Turkish  hands  was  one  of  the 
strongest  of  their  fortresses  towards  Montenegro.  Dulcigno  (see 
vol.  vii.  p.  520)  has  3000  inhabitants  (before  the  transfer  5000  to 
7000).  Niksitch,  a  fortified  place  on  a  slight  eminence  in  the 
midst  of  a  plain,  is  about  the  same  size.  Antivari  (see  vol.  ii.  p. 
138),  so  called  from  its  position  opposite  Bari  in  Italy,  suffered 
greatly  in  the  war  1879-80,  and  lost  half  of  its  6000  inhabitants. 
panilovgrad,  with  2000,  lies  on  the  north  side  of  the  Zeta  valley  ; 
in  the  vicinity  is  Orialuka,  the  prince's  palace  with  its  mulberrj- 
nurseries,  and  the  monasteries  of  Zhdiebanik  (burnt  by  the  Tmks  in 
1877,  but  since  rebuilt),  while  Tcheliya,  Moratcha  (the  most  aucicnt 
in  the  principality),  and  Ostrog  (visited  annually  by  about  10,000 
l.ilgrims)  are  not  far  off.  Spuzh  (Sponge),  a  little  lower  on  the 
.same  side  of  the  stream,  is  a  fortified  post  with  about  1000  inhabit- 
onts.  Nyegush  or  Nyegosh  (1200),  about  three  hours  distant  fiom 
Cettinye  on  the  road  to  Cattaro,  is  the  native  seat  of  the  reigning 
family,  which  originally  came  thither  from  Nyegush  in  Herzegovina. 
Zhabliak  (^1200)  was  rnce  the  "capital,"  and  has  been  a  fortified 
post  since  the  time  of  the  Venetian  power  Ryeka  (1600),  on  the 
river  of  that  name,  is  next  to  Podgoritza  in  commercial  importance  ; 
the  prince  has  two  residences  in  the  town.  Grahovo  (2000)  is 
famous  for  the  great  battles  of  1861  and  1876. 

Montenegro  is  an  absolute  hereditary  monarchv,  vested  accord- 
ing to  the  principle  of  primogeniture  in  the  famUv  of  Petrovitch 
Kyegush.  ITie  prince  bears  the  title  "Piince  of  Montenegro  and 
the  Berda  (mountains)  " — Montenegro  here  meaning  the  old  Mon- 
tenegrin nahias  (pi-ovinces)  of  Katunska,  Tzrmitza,  Eyetchka,  and 


'  See  Bogisii  in  Daa  Austand,  187<. 


Lyeshanska,  and  Berda  the  territory  added  in  the  13th  centciy, 
OP  the  provinces  Byelopavlitohska,  Fiperska,  Uoratcliska,  Vasoye- 
vitchska,  and  Kutska.  A  responsible  ministry  was  introduced  in_ 
1877,  and  there  are  now  separate  departments  of  justice,  foreign , 
affairs,  war,  and  finance  and  education.  The  highest  adininistra- 
tive  body  is  the  council  of  state,  instituted  in  1879,  and  consisting 
of  eight  members  appointed  by  the  prince.  Justice  in  ordinary 
cases  is  rendered  in  primitive  fashion.  Formal  codes  were  drawn 
up  by  Peter  I.  (1798)  and  by  Danilo  (1855),  but  the  real  statu'-e 
book  is  national  custom.  A  great  court,  consisting  of  the  minister 
of  justice,  and  five  members  named  by  the  prince,  is  held  in.th* 
capital,  and  there  are  inferior  courts  in  each  of  the  captaincies 
(86  in  1879).  While  formerly  the  very  president  of  the  senate,  i 
jlirko  Petrovitch  (o4.  1865),  whose  songs  are  the  delight  of  hi* 
countrymen,  could  neither  read  nor  write,  primary  education  has 
been  widely  diffused  during  the  reign  of  Prince  Nicholas  (Nikita.). 
In  1851  there  was  only  one  school,  but  before  the  recent  war  they 
had  increased  to  58,  nearly  every  clan  having  one  for  girls  as  well 
as  for  boys.  The  female  itontencgrin  Institute  (founded  and  sup-  ' 
ported  by  the  empress  of  Russi.i)  atti-acts  pupils  from  beyond  the 
frontier.  It  was  from  the  piiuting-presses  of  Cettinye  and  Ryeka 
that  the  first  books  in  the  Slavonic  languages  were  issued  between 
1483  and  1493,  under  the  patronage  especially  of  Ivan  Beg  and 
George  (IV.)  Crnoyevitch,  "  waywodes  of  the  Zeta,"  but  this  pro- 
mise of  literary  productiveness  'was  soon  cut  off  by  w^ars  with  the 
Turks.  Peter  Petrovitch  Nyegush  (1813-1S51),  who  was  called  to 
rule  in  1830,  is  rec43gnized  as  perhaps  the  gi-eatest  of  all  Servian 
poets, — his  Gorski  Vii/cnac,  or  "Mountain  Wreath,"  giving  dramatic 
expression  to  the  "  veiy  soul  of  the  Serbian  people.  Though  the 
press  which  he  established  in  1834  was  destroyed  in  the  war  of 
1852-53,  another  was  soon  obtained,  and  under  Prince  Nicholas, 
himself  a  poet,  his  memory  has  proved  a  potent  stimulus  to 
intellectual  culture.  The  first  Montenegrin  newspaper,  Cmogorac^ 
now  Glas  Cmogorca,  began  to  appear  in  1870  ;  the  first  book-shop 
was  opened  in  1879.- 

The  Montenegrins,'  however,  have  had  more  to  do  with  the 
sword  than  with  the  pen.  '*  Every  man,  di-essed  in  the  picturesque 
costume  of  his  tribe,  carries  his  pistol  and  yataghan  in  his  girdle." 
NoniinaDy  the  age  of  military  service  is  between  si^cteen  and 
sixty-five,  but  when  war-  breaks  out  schoolboy  and  superannuated 
veteran  are  equally  eager  for  the  fray.  When  Prince  Nicholas  tried 
to  prevent  an  old  man  of  eighty  from  joining  his  forces,  the  insulted 
warrior  drew  his  pistol  and  shot  himself.  War  Nvith  the  Turks, 
indeed,  is  the  essence  of  Montcnogiin  history.  On  the  death  of  the 
Servian  king  Stephen  Dushan,  Prince  Balsha  became  independent 
lord  of  the  province  of  the  Zeta  ;  and  when  the  Servian  power 
was  shattered  by  the  Turks  in  the  battle  of  Kossovo  (1389)  his 
territoiy  formed  the  asylum  of  all  those  who  deteimined  to  make 
another  stand  for  freedom.  In  1485  Ivan  Crnoyevitch',  findini; 
Zhabliak  untenable,  fixed  his  "  capital "  at  Cettinye.  In  1516  his 
son  George,  who  had  succeeded  him^  left  his  country  to  its  fate ; 
bat  the  people  cho.se  their  bishop  as  their  chief  Prince-bishopa 
or  vladykas,  elected  by  the  people,  continued  to  lead  them  with 
success  against  the  common  foe  of  Chiistendom  till  1697,  when 
the  authority  was  handed  over  to  Petrovitch  Nyegush,  with  the 
right  of  appointing  his  successors,  subject  to  national  approvaL 
At  length,  in  1851,  Danilo,  nephew  and  nominee  of  the  previous 
vladyka  Peter  II.,  prevailed  on  the  "skuptchina"  to  declare  Mon- 
tenegro a  secular  state  with  the  hereditarj'  government  of  a  prince. 
His  nephew  Nicholas  succeeded  to  the  throne  in  1860,  and  at  the 
close  of  the  war  1876-78  Montenegro  was  declared  a  sovereign 
principality.  For  an  account  of  the  defeats  and  victories  (the  latter 
by  fai'  the  «iore  numerous)  which  have  marked  the  national  straggle 
for  existen.:e  during  its  fom-  centiuies,  the  reader  is  referred  to 
Denton's  Montenegro  (Lond.,  1877). 

See  Ohiervalion4  oil  Monlejicffro  (St  Pet,  1831X  by  Baron  Kaulbars,  RoBSian 
member  of  the  IntematioDal  Commission ;  Willdnson's  Dalmatia  and  Montentoro 
(1818) ;  Wlngdeld,  Tour  in  Bn/malin,  4c.  (1859) ;  Viscountess  Strangfoid,  Tct 
Eastern  Shores  of  Iho  Adriatic  (.\S64};  A.  J.  Evans,  Iltyrian  Lettfre  (1878) ;  W.  E. 
Gladstune  in  the  I^ineteentk  Century,  1. ;  Freeman,  in  Macmiltnn'e  Mag.,  -1876 ; 
Scliwarz,  Moutencgro  (1882).  See  also  the  bibliographies  in  'BvU.  de  ta  Soc.  de 
Ciogr.  (Paris,  18C5)  and  ValentineUJ,  Btb.  della  Dalnuuia  (Agram,  1855). 

(H.  A.  W.) 

MONTEREY,  a  city  of  the  United  States,  the  capital 
of  California  up  to  1847,  is  situated  on  Monterey  Bay, 
125  miles  south  from  San  Francisco  by  the  southern 
division  of  the  Southern  Pacific  Railroad.  Originally 
founded  in  1770  as  a  mission  station  and  presidio  (garrison) 
by  Jvmipero  Serra,  it  is  still  in  the  main  a  Spanish-looking 
town,  with  Spanish  talked  in  its  streets  and  painted  on  its 
signboards.  At  the  meeting  of  the  first  constitutional 
convention  of  California  Monterey  was  a  port  of  entry 
with  a  flourishing  trade  and  a  promising  future ;  but  it 
soon  suffered  from  the  rivalry  of  San  Francisco,  and  it  i.s 


Cf  Pypin  and  Spasoritch,  HUl.  of  Slat.  Lileralures,  voL  t 


782 


M  O  N  —  M  O  I< 


now  a  sleepy  place,  etraggling  and  dirty,  vrith  manj  oi  its 
adobe  b'lildings  abandoned  to  decay.  The  flourishing  Mon- 
terey ■whaling  company  (chiefly  Portuguese  from  the  Azores) 
has  its  station  under  the  old  tort ;  and,  the  Southern  Pacific 
Railroad  Company  having  erected  (1881)  a  magnificent 
hotel,  the  place  bids  fair  to  become  cue  of  the  leading  water- 
ing-places on  the  Californiau  coast.  The  mission  church  of 
Sail  Carlos,  aboul.  four  miles  from  the  towTi,  is  a  curious 
and  strildng  ruin.  Population  is  now  (1883)  about  1  tOO. 
See  Franc.  Palou,  V'ida  del  vm.  padre  fray  J.  Serra,  Mexico, 
1787;  Lady  Duffus  Gordon,  Through  Cities  and  PrairU-lands, 
1882  ;  and  Harper's  Monthly  Magazine,  October  1882. 

MONTEREY,  a  city  of  Mexico,  capital  of  the  state  of 
Nuevo  Leon,  lies  1600  feet  above  the  sea  on  a  sub-tributary 
of  the  Rio  Grande  del  Norte,  150  miles  south-south-west 
of  Nuevo  Laredo,  and  190  west-south-west  of  Matamoras. 
A  handsome  and  well-planned  city,  with  a  cathedral  and  a 
number  of  good  public  buildings,  Monterey  is  also  in  com- 
mercial and  manufacturing  activity  the  most  important 
place  in  the  northern  parts  of  the  republic,  and  one  of  the 
principal  stations  on  the  railway  opened  in  1882  between 
the  city  of  Mexico  and  the  United  States  frontier  (at 
Matamoras  and  Nuevo  Laredo).  The  population  was  about 
37,000  in  1880.  The  city  was  founded  in  1596,  became 
a  bishopric  in  1777,  and  was  captured  by  the  United 
States  forces  under  General  Taylor  in  September  1846. 

MONTE  SAN  GIULIANO,  a  city  of  Sicily,  in  the  pro- 
vince of  Trapani  and  12  miles  north-east  of  the  town  of 
Trapani,  occupies  the  summit  of  the  mountain  from  which 
it  takes  its  name.  Rising  in  the  midst  of  an  undulating 
plain,  this  magnificent  aud  conspicuous  peak  (the  Eryx  of 
the  ancients)  hasj  whether  seen  from  sea  or  land,  such  an 
appearance  of  altitude  that,  while  it  really  does  not  exceed 
2464  feet,  it  has  for  ages  been  popularly  considered  the 
culminating  point  of  western  Sicily,  and  second  only  to 
Mount  Etna.  By  the  Phoenicians  it  was  early  chosen  as 
the  site  of  a  temple,  which  continued  down  to  the  time  of 
the  Roman  empire  to  be  one  of  the  most  celebrated  of  all 
the  shrines  of  Venus  (Venus  Erycina).  The  ancient  city  of 
Eryx,  situated  lower  down  the  mountain  side,  disappears 
from  history  after  the  establishment  of  the  Roman  power 
in  Sicily, — the  inhabitants  having  probably  taken  advan- 
tage of  the  protection  afforded  by  the  sanctity,  fortifica- 
tions, and  garrison  of  the  temple-enclosure.  In  the  modern 
town,  the  population  of  which  has  recently  decreased  to 
about  3000  by  the  migration  of  considerable  numbers  to 
the  plain,  the  chief  points  of  interest  are  the  cathedral, 
internally  restored  in  1865,  the  castle,  which  occupies  the 
site  of  the  temple,  and  the  three  so-called  torri  del  Balio, 
which  probably  represent  the  propylcea.  Remains  of 
Phoenician  masonry  are  still  seen  on  the  north  side  of  the 
town.  The  great  rock-hewn  cistern  in  the  garden  of  the 
castle  is  very  like  one  of  the  cisterns  of  the  Haram  at 
Jerusalem 

The  antiquities  of  Monto  San  Giuliano  have  been  carefully  in- 
7estigated  by 'Giuseppe  Polizzi  (/  Monmnenti  d'Antichitd  della 
Provinda  di  Trapani),  and  by  Professor  Salinas  {Archivio  Storico 
Sicilmno,  L,  &c.).  Compare  Ronan,  Melanges  d'Histoire  et  di 
Voyages ;  and  Sayce  in  Academy,  30th  December  1882. 

MONTE  SANT'  ANGELO,  a  city  of  Italy  in  the  pro- 
vince of  Foggia  (Capilanata),  10  miles  north  of  Manfre- 
donia,  stands  on  an  oflshoot  of  Monte  Gargano  2824  feet 
high.  In  491  the  archangel  Michael  pointed  out  the 
place  to  St  Laurentius,  archbishop  of  Sipontum  (Man- 
fredonia),  and  the  chapel,  which  was  built  over  the  cave, 
to  which  he  drew  more  particular  attention,  soon  became 
a  famous  place  of  pilgrimage.  Though  plundered  by 
the  Lombards  in  657,  and  by  the  Saracens  in  869,  St 
Michael's  was  already  a  wealthy  sanctuary  in   the   Uth 


they  are  usually  called)  maintained  a  prolonged  contest 
with  the  Sipontino  archbishops  for  episcopal  independence. 
According  to  Ughelli  {Italia  Sacra,  vol.  vli.  p.  816), 
a  marble  statue  of  the  saint  by  Michelangelo  Buonarroti 
took  the  place  of  a  tilver  image.  The  bronze  doors 
still  preserved  are  fine  pieces  of  Byzantine  work,  made,  as 
^n  inscription  bears  v,-itness,  in  Constantinople  in  1076. 
The  town  of  Sant'  Angelo,  -which  had  only  about  3000 
inhabitant's  in  the  17th  century,  numbered  14,759  in  1861, 
and  13,902  in  1871.  Besides  the  festival  of  the  saint 
celebrated  on  the  9th  of  May,  there  is  a  great  fair  on  the 
29th  of  September. 

MONTESQUIEU,    Chasij:3    Louis    de    Seconbat, 
Baeon  de  la  Brisde  et  de  (1C89-1755),  philosophical  his- 
torian, was  bom  at  the  chateau  of  La  Brfede,  about  10  miles 
to  the  south-east  of  Bordeaux,  in  January  1689  (the  exact 
date  being  unknown),  and  was  baptized  on  the  18th  of 
that  month.    His  mother  was  Marie  Frangoise  de  Penel,  the 
heiress  of  a  Gascon-English  family.     She  had  brought  La, 
Brfede  as  a  dowTy  to  his  father,  Jacques  de  Secondat,  a  mem- 
ber of  a  good  if  not  extremely  ancient  house,  which  seems 
first  to  have  risen  to  importance  in  the  early  days  of  the  1 6th 
century.     The  title  of  Montesquieu  came  from  his  uncle, 
Jean  Baptiste  de  Secondat,  "  president  i  mortier "  in  the 
parliament  of  Bordeaux, — an  important  office,  which,  as  well 
as  his  title,  he  left  to  his  nephew.     Montesquieu  was  in  his 
youth  knoT\'n  as  M.  de  la  Brede.     His  mother  died  when  he 
was  seven  years  old,  and  when  he  was  eleven  he  was  sent  to 
the  Oratoriau  school  of  JuUly,  near  Meaux,  where  he  stayed 
exactly  five  years,  and  where,  as  well  as  aiterwards  at  Bor- 
deaux, he  was  thoroughly  educated.     The  family  had  long 
been  connected  with  the  law,  and  Montesquieu  was  destined 
for  that  profession.     He  was  made  to  work  hard  at  it  not- 
withstanding his  prospects  (for  his  uncle's  office  was  his  by 
reversion) ;   but,  as  in  his  later  life,  he  seems  to  have 
tempered  much  study  with  not  a  little  society.     His  father 
died  in  1713,  and  a  year  later  Montesquieu,  or,  as  he  should 
at  this  time  strictly  be  called.  La  Brede,  was  admitted  coun- 
sellor of  the  parliament.    In  little  more  than  another  twelve- 
month he  married  Jeanne  Lartigue,  an  heiress  and  the 
daughter  of  a  knight  of  the  order  of  St  Louis,  but  plain, 
somewhat  ill-educated,  and  a  Protestant.    Montesquieu  does 
not  seem  to  have  made  the  slightest  pretence  of  aflection  or 
fidelity  towards  his  wife — things  which,  indeed,  the  times 
did  not  demand ;  but  there  is  every  reason  to  believe  that 
they  lived  on  perfectly  good  terms.    Like  the  three  previous 
years,  1716  was  an  eventful  one  to  him ;  for  his  uncle  died, 
leaving  him  his  name,  his  important  judicial  oflace,  and  his 
whole  fortune.     He  thus  became  one  of  the  richest  and 
most  influential  men  in  the  district.     He  continued  to  hold 
his  presidency  for  twelve  years,  in  the  course  of  which  he 
had  much  judicial  work  to  perform,  as  well  as  the  nonde- 
script administrative  functions  which  under  the  old  regime 
fell  to  the  provincial  parliaments.     He  was  none  the  less 
addicted  to  society,  and  he  took  no  small  part  in  the  pro- 
ceedings of  the  Bordeaux  Academy,  to  which  he  contributed 
papers  on  philosophy,  politics,  and  natural  science.     He 
also  wrote  much  less  serious  things,  and  it  was  during  the 
earlier  years  of  his  presidency  that  he  finished,  if  he  did  not 
begin,  tho  Lettres  Persanes.     They  were   completed  before 
1721,  and  appeared  in  that  year  anonymously,  with  Cologne 
on  the  title-page,  but  they  were  really  printed  and  published 
at  Amsterdam.     This  celebrated  book  (the  original  notion 
of  which  is  generally  set  down  to  a  work  of  Duf resny,- the 
comic  author,  but  which  is  practically  original)  would  have 
been  surprising  enough  as  coming  from  a  magistrate  of  the 
highest  dignity  in  any  other  time  than  in  the  regency  of  the 
diie  of  Orleans,  and  even  as  it  was  it  rather  scandalized 


century  and  its  prosperity  continued  tiU  the  time  of  the     the  graver  among  Montesquieu's  contemporaries.     lu  the 
French' occupation.     Tlie  canons  {Caiwnici  Garganici,  as  I  guise. of  lettei-s  written  by  and  to  two  Persians  of  distinction 


MONTESQUIEU 


783 


travelling  in  Europe,  Montesquieu  not  only  satirized  un- 
mercifully the  social,  political,  ecclesiastical,  and  literary 
follies  of  his  day  in  France,  but  indulged  in  a  great  deal  of 
the  free  writing  (so  free  as  very  nearly  to  deserve  the  term 
licentious)  which  was  characteristic  of  the  tale-tellers  of  the 
time.  But  what  scandalized  grave  and  precise  readers 
naturally  attracted  the  majority,  and  the  Lettres  JPersanes 
were  veiy  popular,  passing,  it  is  said,  through  four  editions 
within  the  year,  besides  piracies.  Then  the  vogue  suddenly 
ceased,  or  at  least  editions  ceased  for  nearly  nine  years  to 
appear:  It  is  said  that  a  formal  ministerial  prohibition 
was  the  cause  of  this,  and  it  is  not  improbable ;  for,  though 
the  regent  and  Dubois  must  have  enjoyed  the  book 
thoroughly,  they  were  both  shrewd  enough  to  perceive  that 
underneath  its  playful  esterior  there  lay  a  spirit  of  very 
inconvenient  criticism  of  abuses  in  church  and  state.  The 
fact  is  that  the  Lettres  Persanes  \a  the  first  book  of  what  is 
called  the  Plulasophe  movement.  The  criticism  is  scarcely 
yet  aggressive,  much  less  destructive,  and  in  Montesquieu's 
hands  it  never  became  so ;  but  what  it  might  become  in 
the  hands  of  others  was  obvious  enough.  It  is  this  pre- 
cuisorship  in  his  own  special  line  which  in  all  probability 
made  Voltaire  so  jealous  of  Montesquieu,  as  well  as  the 
advantage  which  a  wealthy  and  well-born  noble  of  high 
official  position  had  over  himself.  It  is  amusing  to  find 
Voltaire  describing  the  Lettres  as  a  "trumpery  book,"  a 
"  book  which  anybody  might  have  written  easily."  It  is 
not  certain  that,  in  its  peculiar  mixture  of  light  badinage 
with  not  merely  serious  purpose  but  gentlemanlike  modera- 
tion, Voltaire  could  have  written  it  himself,  and  it  is 
certain  that  no  one  else  at  that  time  could.  The  reputa- 
tion acquired  by  this  book  brought  Montesquieu  much  into 
the  literary  society  of  the  capital,  and  he  composed  for,  or  at 
any  rate  contributed  to,  one  of  the  coteries  of  the  day  the 
clever  but  rather  rhetorical  Dialogue  de  Sylla  et  cCBucrate, 
in  which  the  dictator  gives  an  apology  for  his  conduct.  For 
Mademoiselle  de  Clermont,  a  lady  of  royal  blood,  a  great 
beauty  and  a  favourite  queen  of  society,  he  wrote  the 
curious  prose  poem  of  the  TempU  de  Gnide.  This  is  half 
a  narrative,  half  an  allegory,  in  the  semi-classical  or  rather 
pseudo^ilassical  taste  of  the  time,  decidedly  frivolous  and 
dubiously  moral,  but  of  no  small  elegance  in  its  peculiar 
style.  A  later  jeu  d'esprit  of  the  same  kind,  which  is  almost 
but  not  quite  certainly  Montesquieu's,  is  the  Voyage  d 
Paphos,  in  which  his  warmest  admirers  have  found  little  to 
praise.  In  1725  Montesquieu  was  elected  a  member  of  the 
Academy,  but  an  almost  obsolete  rule  requiring  residence  in 
Paris  was  appealed  to,  and  the  election  was  annulled.  It  is 
doubtful  whether  a  hankering  after  Parisian  society,  or  an 
ambition  to  belong  to  the  Academy,  or  a  desire  to  devote 
himself  to  literary  pursuits  of  greater  importance,  or  simple 
weariness  of  not  wholly  congenial  work  determined  him  to 
give  up  his  Bordeaux  office ;  it  is  certain  that  he  continued 
to  hold  it  but  a  short  time  after  this.  It  is  tolerably  clear 
that  he  had  already  begun  his  great  work,  and  the-character 
of  some  papers  which,  about  this  time,  he  read  at  the  Bor- 
deaux Academy  is  graver  and  less  purely  curious  than  his 
earlier  contributions.  In  1726  he  sold  the  life  tenure  of  his 
office,  reserving  the  reversion  for  his  son,  and  went  to  live 
in  the  capital,  returning,  however,  for  half  of  each  year  to 
La  Brede.  There  was  now  no  further  formal  obstacle  to  his 
reception  in  the  Acad^mie  Fran9ai3e,  but  a  new  one  arose. 
Ill-wishers  had  brought  the  Lettres  Persanes  specially  under 
the  minister  Fleury's  attention,  and  Fleury,  a  precisian  in 
many  ways,  .was  shocked  by  them.  There  are  various 
accounts  of  the  way  in  which  the  difficulty  was  got  over, 
but  all  seem  to  agree  that  Montesquieu  made  concessions 
which  were  more  efiectual  than  dignified.  He  was  elected 
and  received  in  January  1728.  Almost  immediately  after- 
wards he  started  on  a  tour  through  Europe  to  observe  I 


men,  things,  and  constitutions.  He  travelled  through 
Austria  to  Hungary,  but  was  unable  to  visit  Turkey  as  he 
had  proposed.  Then  he  made  for  Italy,  where  he  met 
Chesterfield.  They  sojourned  together  at  Venice  for  some 
time,  and  a  curious  story  is  told  of  the  way  in  which  either 
a  piece  of  mischief  on  Chesterfield's  part,  or  Montesqviieu's 
own  nervousness  and  somewhat  inordinate  belief  in  his  ow-a 
importance,  made  the  latter  sacrifice  his  Venetian  notes. 
At  Venice,  and  elsewhere  in  Italy,  he  remained  nearly  a 
year,  and  then  journeyed  by  way  of  Piedmont  and  the 
Rhine  to  England.  Here  he  stayed  for  some  eighteea 
months,  and  acquired  an  admiration  for  English  character 
and  polity  which  never  afterwards  deserted  him.  He 
returned,  not  to  Paris,  but  to  La  BrMe,  and  to  outward 
appearance  might  have  seemed  to  be  settling  down  as  a 
squire.  He  altered  his  park  in  the  English  fashion,  made 
sedulous  inquiries  into  his  own  genealogy,  arranged  an 
entail,  asserted,  though  not  harshly,  his  seignorial  rights, 
kept  poachers  in  awe,  and  so  forth.  Nor  did  he  neglect 
his  fortune,  but,  on  the  contrary,  improved  his  estates  in 
every  way,  though  he  met  with  much  opposition,  partly 
from  the  dislike,  of  his  tenants  to  new-fangled  ways,  and 
partly  from  the  insane  economic  regulations  of  the  tim*j 
which  actually  prohibited  the  planting  of  fresh  vineyards. 
Although,  however,  Montesquieu  was  enough  of  a  grand 
seigneur  to  be  laughed  at,  and  enough  of  a  careful  steward 
of  his  goods  to  be  reviled  for  avarice,  by  those  of  his  con- 
temporaries who  did  not  like  him,  these  matters  by  no 
means  engix)ssed  or  even  chiefly  occupied  his  thoughts. 
In  his  great  study  at  La  Brede  (a  hall  rather  than  a  study, 
some  60  feet  long  by  40  wide)  he  was  constantly  dic- 
tating, making  abstracts,  re\ising  essays,  and  in  other 
ways  preparing  his  great  book.  Like  some  other  men  of 
letters,  though  perhaps  no  other  has  had  the  experience  in 
quite  the  same  degree,  he  found  himself  a  little  hampered 
by  his  earlier  work.  He  may  have  thought  it  wise  to 
soften  the  transition  from  the  Lettres  Persanes  to  the 
Esprit  des  Lois,  by  interposing  a  publication  graver  than 
the  former  and  less  elaborate  than  the  latter.  He  had 
always,  as  indeed  was  the  case  with  most  Frenchmen  of  his 
century,  been  interested  in  ancient  Eome  and' her  history ; 
and  he  had  composed  not  a  few  minor  tractates  on  the 
subject,  of  which  many  titles  and  some  examples  remain, 
besides  the  already-mentioned  dialogue  on  Sylla.  All  these 
now  took  form  in  the  Considerations  sur  les  Causes  de  la 
Grandeur  et  la  Decadence  des  Romains,  which  appeared  in 
1734  at  Amsterdam,  without  the  author's  name.  This, 
however,  was  perfectly  well  known ;  indeed,  Montesquieu 
formally  presented  a  copy  to  the  French  Academy.  Anony- 
mity of  title-pages  was  a  fashion  of  the  day  which  meant 
nothing.  The  book  was  not  extraordinarily  popular  in 
France  at  the  time.  The  author's  reputation  as  a  jester 
stuck  to  him,  and  the  salons  affected  to  consider -the  Lettres 
Persanes  and  the  new  book  respectively  as  the  "  grandeur  " 
and  the  "decadence  de  M.  de  Montesquieu;"  but  more 
serious  readers  at  once  perceived  its  extraordinary  merit, 
and  it  was  eagerly  read  abroad.  A  copy  of  it  exists  or 
existed  which  had  the  singular  fortune  to  be  annotated  by 
Frederick  the  Great,  and  to  be  abstracted  from  the  Potsdam 
library  by  Kapoleon.  It  is  said,  moreover,  by. competent 
authorities  to  have  been  tho  most  endm-ingly  popular  and 
the  most  widely  read  of  all  it5  author's  works  in  his  own 
country,  and  it  has  certainly  been  the  most  frequently  and 
carefully  edited.  Its  merits  are  indeed  undeniable.  Merely 
scholastic  criticism  may  of  course  object  to  it,  as  to  every 
other  book  of  the  time,  the  absence  of  the  exactness  of 
modem  critical  inquiry  into  the  facts  of  history ;  but  thi^ 
is  only  a  new  example  of  a  frequent  ignoratio  elenchi. 
The  virtue  of  Montesquieu's  book  is  not  in  its  facts  but  in 
its  -views.     It  is  (putting  Bossuet  and  Vico  aside)  almpsj 


784 


MONTESQUIEU 


the  first  important  essay  in  tb&  philosophy  of  history. 
The  point  of  view  is  entirely  different  from  that  of  Bossuet, 
and  it  seems  entirely  improbable  that  Montesquieu  knew 
anything  of  Vice.  In  the  Cj-and^r  el  Decadence  the 
characteristics  of  the  Esprit  des  Loi«  appear  vnih  the  neces- 
sary subordination  to  a  narrower  subject.  Two  things  are 
especially  noticeable  in  it :  a  peculiarity  of  style,  and  a 
peculiarity  of  thought.  The  style  has  a  superficial  defect 
which  must  strike  every  one,  and  which  was  not  overlooked 
by  those  who  v/ere  jealous  of  Montesquieu  at  the  time. 
The  page  is  broken  up  into  short  paragraphs  of  but  a  few 
lines  each,  which  look  very  ugly,  which  irritate  the  reader 
by  brealdng  the  sense,  and  which  prepare  him  to  expect 
an  undue  and  ostentatious  sententiousness.  The  blemish, 
however,  is  chiefly  mechanical,  and,  though  no  editor  has 
hitherto  had  the  perhaps  improper  audacity  so  to  do,  it 
would  be  perfectly  possible  to  obliterate  it  without  changing 
a  word.  On  the  other  hand,  the  merits  of  the  expression 
are  very  great.  It  is  grave  and  destitute  of  ornament,  but 
extraordinarily  luminous  and  full  of  what  ■would  be  called 
epigram,  if  the  word  epigi'am  had  not  a  certain  connotation 
of  flippancy  about  it.  It  is  a  very  short  book ;  for,  printed 
in  large  type  with  tolerably  abundant  notes,  it  fills  but 
two  hundred  pages  in  the  last  edition  of  Montesquieu's 
works.  But  no  work  of  the  centiu-y,  except  Turgot's  second 
Sorbonne  Discourse,  contains,  in  proportion  to  its  size, 
more  weighty  and  original  thought  on  historical  subjects, 
while  Montesquieu  has  over  Turgot  the  immense  advantage 
of  style. 

Although,  however,  this  ballon  d'essai,  in  the  style  of  his 
great  work,  may  be  said  to  have  been  successful,  and  though 
much  of  that  work  was,  as  we  have  seen,  in  all  probability 
already  composed,  Montesquieu  was  in  no  hurry  to  publish 
it.  He  went  on  "  cultivating  the  garden  "  diligently  both 
as  a  student  and  as  an  improving  landowner.  He  had 
lawsuits,  sometimes  on  his  own  account,  sometimes  on  that 
of  others,  and  in  one  case  he  vpon  from  the  city  of  Bordeaux 
BO  less  than  eleven  hundred  crpents  of,  it  is  true,  the  un- 
productive landes  of  the  country.  He  is  said  to  have 
begun  a  history  of  Louis  SI.,  and  there  is  a  story  that  it 
was  completed  but  burnt  by  mistake.  He  -wrote  the 
sketch  of  Lysimaque  for  Sunislaus  Leczinski;  he  published 
new  and  final  editions  of  the  Temple  dc  Guide,  of  the  Leitres 
Persanes,  of  Sylla  et  Eucrate  {vihich.  indeed  had  never  been 
published,  properly  speaking).  After  allowing  the  Grandeur 
et  Decadence  to  be  reprinted  without  alterations  some  half 
dozen  times,  he  revised  and  corrected  it.  He  also  took 
great  pains  with  the  education  of  his  son  Charles  and  his 
daughter  Denise,  of  whom  he  was  extremely  fond.  He 
frequently  visited  Paris,  where  his  favourite  resorts  were 
the  salons  of  Madame  do  Tencin  and  Madame  d'Aiguillon. 
But  all  the  time  ho  must  have  been  steadily  working  at 
hia  book,  indeed,  a  contemporary  accuses  him  of  having 
only  gone  into  society  to  pick  up  materials  for  it.  But  it 
aeems  that  he  did  not  begin  the  final  task  of  composition 
till  1743.  Two  years  of  uninterrupted  work  at  La  Brfede 
■finished  the  greater  part  of  it,  and  two  more  the  rest.  It 
was  finally  published  at  Geneva  in  the  autumn  of  1748,  in 
two  volumes  quarto.  The  publication  was,  however,  pre- 
ceded by  one  of  those  odd  incidents  which  in  literature  iUus- 
trato  Clive'a  well-known  saying  about  courts-martial  in  war. 
Montesquieu  summoned  a  committee  of  friends,  according 
to  a  very  common  practice,  to  hear  and  give  an  opinion 
on  his  work.  It  was  an  imposing  and  certainly  not  an 
unfriendly  one,  consistingof  H^nault,  Helvdtius,  the  financier 
Silhouette,  the  dramatist  Saurin,  Cribillon  the  younger, 
and  lastly,  Fontenelle, — in  fact,  all  sorts  and  conditions 
of  literary  men.  The  members  of  this  eminently  competent 
tribunal  unanimously,  though'  for  different  reasons  and  in 
different  forms  of  expression,  advised  the  author  not  to 


publish  a  book  which  has  been  recently  described  by  \- 
judge  of  certainly  not  less  competence  as  "one  of  the  most 
important  books  ever  written,"  and  which,  when  importance 
of  matter  and  excellence  of  manner  ai-e  jointly  considered, 
may  be  almost  certainly  ranked  as  the  greatest  book  of 
the  French  18th  century. 

Montesquieu,  of  course,  did  not  take  his  friends' advice.  In 
such  cases  no  man  ever  does,  and  in  this  case  it  was  certainly 
fortunate.  The  Esprit  des  Lois  represents  the  reflexions 
of  a  singularly  clear,,  original,  and  comprehensive  mind,  cor- 
rected by  forty  years'  study  of  men  and  books,  arranged  in 
accordance  with  a  long  deliberated  plan,  and  couched  in 
language  of  remarkable  freshness  and  idiosyncrasy.  The 
title  has  been  somewhat  cavilled  at,  and,  like  that  of  the 
Considerations,  it  gave  a  handle  to  the  somewhat  maliciou 
frivolity  of  the  salons.  But  if  it  had  besr.  jjreserved  i' 
full  it  would  have  escaped  much  of  the  criticism  which  i : 
has  received.  In  the  original  editions  it  runs  L'Espril 
des  Lois  :  ou  du  Rapport  que  les  Lois  doivent  avoir  avec  la 
Constitution  de  chaque  Gouvemement,  les  M<evrs,  le  Climat, 
la  Beligion,  le  Commerce,  etc.  It  consists  of  thirty-one 
books,  which  in  some  editions  are  grouped  in  six  parts.  This 
division  into  parts  is  known  to  have  entered  into  the 
author's  original  plan,  but  he  seems  to  have  changed  hLs  mind 
about  it.  Speaking  summarily,  the  first  part,  containing 
eight  book's,  deals  mth  law  in  general  and  with '  forms  of 
government ;  the  second,  containing  five,  with  military 
arrangements,  with  taxation,  &c. ;  the  third,  containing  six, 
with  manners  and  customs,  and  their  dependence  on 
climatic  conditions  ;  the  foiulh,  containing  four,  with  eco- 
nomic matters ;  and  the  fifth,  containing  three,  with  religion. 
The  last  five  books,  forming  a  kind  of  supplement,  deal 
specially  with  Eoman,  French,  and  feudal  law.  The  most 
noteworthy  peculiarity  of  the  book  to  a  cursory  reader  lies 
in  the  section  dealing  with  effects  of  climate,  and  this 
indeed  was  almost  the  only  characteristic  which  the  vulgar 
took  in,  probably  because  it  was  easily  susceptible  of 
parody  and  reduciio  ad  absurdum.  But  this  theory  fa 
but  the  least  part  of  the  claims  of  the  book  to  attention. 
Its  vast  and  careful  collection  of  facts,  the  novelty  and 
brilliancy  of  the  generAliaatioos  founded  on  them,  tha 
constructive  spirit  which  penetrates  it,  its  tolerance,  ita 
placid  wisdom  lighted  up  by  vivacious  epigram,  could  only 
escape  the  most  careless  reader.  The  singular  spirit  of 
moderation  which  distinguishes  its  views  on  politics  and 
religion  was  indeed  rather  against  it  than  in  its  favour  in 
France,  and  Helv6tins,  who  was  as  outspoken  as  he  waa 
good-natured,  had  definitely  assigned  this  as  the  reason  of 
his  unfavourable  judgment.  On  the  other  hand,  if  nol 
destructive  it  was  sufiiciently  critical,  and  it  thus  raised 
enemies  on  more  than  one  side.  Montesquieu  was  thought 
too  English  in  his  ideas  by  some,  the  severe  defenders 
of  orthodoxy  considered  him  latitudinarian,  and  one 
zealous  Jansenist  informed  him  that  he  was  "a  pig." 
It  was  long  suspected,  but  is  now  positively  known,  that 
the  book  (not  altogether  with  the  goodwill  of  the  pope) 
was  put  on  the  Index,  and  the  Sorbonne  projected,  though 
it  did  not  carry  out,  a  regular  censure.  To  all  those  ob- 
jectors the  author  replied  iu  a  masterly  defense;  and 
there  seems  to  be  no  foundation  for  the  late  and  scandalous 
stories  which  represent  him  as  having  used  Madame  de 
Pompadour's  influence  to  suppress  criticism.  The  fact 
was  that,  after  the  first  snarlings  of  envy  and  incompetence 
had  died  away,  he  had  little  occasion  to  complain.  Even 
Voltaire,  who  was  his  decided  enemy,  was  forced  at  length 
to  speak  in  public,  if  not  in  private,  compliinentarily  of  the 
Esprit,  and  from  all  parts  of  Europe  the  news  of  succeds 
arrived. 

Honteaquieu.enjoyed  his  triumph  rather  at  La  Bride  than 
at  Paris.     He  was  becoming  an  old  man,  find,  unlike  Fonte- 


I 

J 


M  O  N  — M  O  IS 


785 


nelle,  he  docs  not  seem  to  Lave  preserved  in  old  age  the 
passion  for  society  which  had  marked  his  youtli.  A  ratter 
dubious  description,  published  long  after  his  death,  repre- 
sents him  as  '•  wandering  in  his  woods  from  mom  to  night 
with  a  white  cotton  niglitcap  on  his  head,  and  a  vine  prop 
on  his  shoulder."  Tliis,  in  the  fiorid  langixage  of  us  tiine 
(the  Eepublicci!!  periocJ),  is  probably  oniy  an  in:a£inative 
exprcJaiou  of  h\r,  kno^rn  interest  in  managing  his  estate.- 
But  he  cejir.inly  spent  much  of  his  later  years  ia  the 
country,  though  ha  sometimes  visited  Paris,  and  on  one 
visit  had  the  tipportunity,  which  he  is  likely  to  have  en- 
joyed, of  procuring  the  release  of  his  admirer  La  Beaumclle 
from  an  imprisonment  which  La  Beaumelle  had  suffered 
at  the  instance  of  Vdtairo.  Ho  is  said  also  to  have  been 
instrumental  in  obtaining  a  pension  for  Piron.  Indeed, 
indigent  or  unlucky  men  of  letters  found  in  him  a  constant 
protector,  and  tiiat  not  merely  at  the  royal  expense.  Nor  did 
he  by  any  means  neglect  literary  compoj-ition.  The  ciirious 
little"  romance  of  Arsftic  el  hmenit,  a  iiliort  and  unfinished 
treatise  on  Taste,  many  of  his  published  Pensces,  and  much 
unpublished  matter  date  from  tiis  period  subsequent  to 
the  Esprit  dis  Lois.  He  did  not,  however,  live  many  years 
after  the  appearance  of  his  great  work.  At  the  end  of 
1754  he  visited  Paris,  with  the  mtention  of  getting  rid  of 
the  lease  of  his  house  there  and  finally  retiring  to  La 
Bride.  He  was  shortly  after. taken  ill  with  an  attack  of 
fever,  which  seems  to  hare  affected  the  lungs,  and  in  less 
than  a  fortnight  he  died,  on  10th  February  1755,  aged 
sixty-sis.  He  was  buried  in  the  church  of  Saint  Sulpice 
with  little  pomp,  and  the  Revolution  obliterated  all  trace 
of  his  remains. 

The  literary  and  phupsopMcal  merits  of  Montesquieu  and  his 
position,  actual  and  historical,  in  the  literature  of  France  and  of 
Europe,  form  a  subject  of  rather  unusual  interest  in  its  kind.  At 
the  beginning  of  this  century  the  vicomte  de  Bonald  classed  hiui 
with  Raciuo  and  Bossuet,  as  the  object  of  a  "religious  veneration" 
among  Frenchmen.  But  Bonald  was  not  quite  a  suitable  spokes- 
man lor  France,  and  it  may  be  doubted  whether  the  author  of  the 
Esprit  des  Lois  lias  ever  really  occupied  any  such  position  in  his 
own  country.  For  a  generation  after  nis  death  he  remained  indeed 
the  idol  and  the  great  authority  of  the  moderate  reforming  party 
in  France,  and  at  such  times  as  that  party  recovei-id  power  during 
the  revolutionary  period  Montesquieu  recovered  vogue  with  it 
But  the  tendency  of  the  centnry  and  a  quarter  which  have  passed 
•ince  his  death  has  been  to  reduce  the  numbers  and  position  of 
this  parly  ever  n.ore  and  more,  and  Jlontesquieu  ia  not  often  qnot- 
able,  or  quoted,  either  by  Kepublicans,  Bonapartists,  or  Legitimists, 
at  the  present  day.  Again,  his  serious  works  contain  citation  of  or 
allusion  to  a  vast  number  of  facts,  and  the  exact  (let  it  be  hoped 
that  posterity  will  not  call  it  the  pettifogging)  criticism  of  our 
time  challenges  the  accuracy  of  these  facts.  Although  he  was 
i-cally  the  founder,  or  at  least  one  of  the  founders,  of  the  sciences  of 
comparative  politics  and  of  the  philosophy  of  history,  his  descend- 
ants and  followers  in  these  aciences  think  they  have  outa-OH-n 
him.  In  France  his  popularit}'  has  always  been  dubious  and  con- 
tested. It  is  a  aingatar  thing  that,  uutil  within  the  last  decade, 
there  has  been  no  properly  edited  edition  of  his  works,  and  nothing 
even  approacliing  a  complete  biography  of  him,  the  place  of  the 
latter  being  occupied  by  the  meagre  and  rhetorical  Elorjcs  of  the 
last  century.  Ho  is,  his  chief  admii-crs  assert,  hardly  read  at  all 
in  Fiance  to-day,  and  a  tolerable  familiarity  with  modem  French 
literature  enables  its  possessor  to  corroborate  this  by  first-hand 
knowledge,  to  the  effect  that  no  writer  of  equal  eminence  ia  so  little 
quoted.  The  admirers  just  mentioned  attempt  to  explain  '.he  fact 
by  confessing  that  Montesquieu,  great  as  he  is,  is  not  altogether 
great  according  to  French  principles.  It  is  not  only  tliat  he  is  an 
Anglo-maniac,  but  that  he  is  rather  English  than  French  in  style 
and  thought.  His  work,  at  least  th".  Esprit,  ie  lacking  in  the  pro- 
portion and  the  al:nost  ostentatious  lucidity-  of  arrangement  whicl'. 
a  Frenchman  dem.-.nd.^.  His  sentences  are  often  enigwatica!,  and 
!u;;gestlve  rather  than  clear.  He  is  alnicst  entirely  dUpa.'ssiouate  in 
politics,  but  he  laclcs  the  unsM-ernng  deducrive  consistency  which 
ii'cnchmen  love  in  that  science.  His  wit,  it  is  said,  is  quaint  and 
a  little  provincial,  his  style  irregular  and  in  no  definite  genre, 

Some  of  those  things  may  be  allowed  to  exist  and  to  be  defects 
in  Montesquieu,  hut  they  are  balanced  by  merits  which  render 
tliem  almost  insignificant.  Of  the  mino;  works,  which  are  on  the 
T*bolt'  rather  unworthy  of  their  author,  nothing  need  be  ssid  here. 


scattered  about  the  tolerably  numerous  letters  which  have  reached 
us,  tliere  is  much  acnteness  and  point,  as  also  in  some  of  the  best 
sentences  of  the  CmiMcUralimis  and  of  t:;e  EspriL  But  no  one  would 
put  Montesquieu  as  a  pensh,  or  maxim,  writer  beside  La  Roche- 
foucauld and  Joubevt,  Pascal  and  Vauvenargues.  It  is  on  his  thice 
princijjal  works  that  his  fame  does  and  must  rest  Each  one  of 
these  IS  a  masterj.icce  in  its  kind.  It  is  doubtful  whether  tiie 
LeUrts  Fcrsanes  yield  at  their  best  either  in  wit  or  in  giving  lively 
pictures  of  the  time  to  the  best  of  Voltaire's  similar  work,  though 
they  are  more  unequal.  There  is,  moreover,  the  great  difference 
between  Montesquica  and  Voltaire  that  the  former  is  a  rational 
reformer,  and  not  a  mere  pcrsijlextr  or  frcnidciir,  to  whom  fault- 
finding is  more  convenient  for  showing  off  his  wit  than  acquiescence. 
Of  course  this  last  description  does  not  fully  or  always  describe 
Voltaire,  but  it  often  does.  It  is  seldom  or  never  applicable  to 
Jlontesquieu.  Only  one  of  Voltaire's  own  charges  against  t.c: 
book  and  its  author  must  be  fully  allowed.  He  is  said  to  hr,'  ■! 
replied  to  a  friend  who  urged  him  to  give  up  his  habit  of  sneer!  x 
at  Montesquieu,  **il  est  coupable  de  lese-poesic,"  and  this  is  triii-. 
Not  only  are  Montesquieu's  remarks  on  poetry  (he  himself  occasiou- 
ally  MTote  verses,  and  veiy  bad  ones)  childish,  but  he  is  never  happy 
in  purely  literary  appreciation.  The  Considiralions  arc  notowortb  y. 
not  only  for  the  complete  change  of  style  (which  from  the  light  anii 
mocking  tone  of  the  Letlrt$  becomes  grave,  weighty,  and  sustaincil.- 
mth  abundance  of  striking  expres-sion),  but  for  the  profundity  aiid 
originality  of  the  views,  and  for  the  completeness  with  which  tho 
author  carries  out  his  plan.  These  words — except,  perhaps,  the  last 
clause — apply  with  increasing  force  to  the  Esprit  des  Lois.  'The  book 
lias  been  accused  of  desultonness,  but  this  arises,  in  part  at  least, 
from  a  misapprehension  of  the  author's  design.  At  the  same  time, 
it  is  irapossible  to  say  that  the  equivocal  meaning  of  the  word  ' '  law," 
wliioh  lias  misled  so  many  reasoners,  has  not  sometimes  misled 
Jlontesquieu  himself  For  the  most  part,  however,  he  keeps  tl'.e 
promise  of  his  sub-tit'e  (^vcn  above)  with  fidelity,  and  applies  it 
\rith  exhaustive  care.  It  is  only  in  the  last  few  books,  which  hove 
been  said  to  be  a  kind  of  appendLx,  that  something  of  iirelevancy 
suggests  itself.  The  real  inipoitance  of  the  Esprit  dcs  Lois,  how- 
ever, is  not  that  of  a  formal  ti-eatise  on  law,  or  even  on  polity.  It  is 
thatofanassemblageofthemostfeitile,  original,  and  inspiritingvicv.  3 
on  legal  and  political  subjects,  put  in  language  of  singular  suggc'i- 
tiveness  and  vigour,  illustrated  by  examples  which  are  always  a',t 
and  luminous,  permeated  by  the  spirit  of  temperate  and  tolerant  de- 
sire for  human  improvement  and  happines.*?,  and  almost  unique  i.i 
its  entire  freedom  at  once  from  doctrinaiiiauism,  from  visior.aiy 
enthusiasm,  from  egotism,  and  from  an  undue  spirit  of  syste;ii. 
As  for  the  style,  no  one  whc  does  not  mistake  the  definition  of  th.t 
much  used  and  much  misused  word  can  deny  it  te  Montcsqoieti. 
He  has  in  the  Esprit  little  ornament,  but  his  composition  is  whohy 
admirable.  Every  now  and  then  there  are  reminiscences,  perhaps  :t 
little  mor«  close  than  is  necessary,  of  the  badinage  of  the  Lettres  hr- 
sanes,  but  these  are  rare,  and  the  author's  wit  is  for  the  most  nscd 
only  to  lighten  his  pages.  Yet  another  great  peculiarity  of  this  book, 
asveMoisoltheConsid^ratioiis,  has  to  be  noticed.  The  genius  of  the 
author  for  generalisation  is  so  great,  his  inr.tiuct  in  political  science 
so  sure,  that  even  the  falsity  of  his  premises  frequently  fails  to 
vitiate  his  conclusions.     He  has  known  \Tong,  but  he  has  thought 

The  8»le  ed'rtion  cf  Montesquieu  which  nceJ  be  mentioned  here  is  that  kX 
Edouaid  Laboukye  (7  vo!i.,  Parle,  1S75-187C).  the  sole  biography  that  of  Lcii^s 
Viao  (Paris,  necond  cditioii,  ISTD).  From  the  titter  the  tacts  of  the  above  not.-i; 
are  principally  drawn.  The  bibliography  of  Montesquieu's  published  woi^k* 
is  not  of  auy  special  interest,  but  in  resjiect  ot  anecdota  he  occupies  a  singul.lr 
position.  Theto  is  known  to  exist  at  La  Brede  a  great  mass  of  IISS.  matenils 
tor  the  EspHl  da  Lois,  additional  LcUris  Ptrsuitci,  essays  and  fragme-Jto  i.. 
ell  kinds,  diaries,  letters,  notebooks,  and  so  forth.  The  present  possessors,, 
however,  who  represent  Montesquieu,  though  not  in  the  direct  male  line,  lu^o 
hitherto  refused  pei-miision  to  examine  these  to  all  editors  and  critics.  thoii;.U 
the  publication  of  some  of  them  has  been  vaguely  promised.  At  present  Ui'-/ 
ara  chiefly  kno»-n  by  a  paDer  contributed  nearly  halt  a  century  ago  to  tlio 
Tmnxicticas  of  the  Academy  of  Agen  C1S3-0-  C^'  E-^) 

MONTEVERDE,  Clatoio  (15681643),  the  invent  :r 
of  the  " free  style "  of  musical  composition,  was  born  at  Ci'.  - 
mona  in  1568;  he  was  engaged  at  an  early  age  as  vioUt 
to  the  duke  of  Muutua,  and  studied  composition  with  ton.o 
success  under  Ingegneri,  the  duke's  "maestro  di  cape!!;i,'^ 
though  without  thoroughly  mastering  the  difficulties  of 
mu-'iical  science.  His  knowledge  of  counterpoint  was  limittd. 
and  his  ear  imperfect,  but  he  was  a  bold  experimenter,  and 
his  undisguised  empiricism  led  to  discoveries  which  exercised 
a  lasting  influence  upon  the  progress  of  art.  He  was  the 
first  composerwho  ventured  to  use  unprepared  dissonances, — 
employing  them  first  in  his  madrigals,  the  beauty  of  which 
they  utterly  destroyed,  but  afterwards  introducing  them 
into  music  of  another  kind  with  such  excellent  effect  that 
their  value  was  universally  recormized,  and  all  opposition 
tT  1'.  ■■;•  i;-,.-  t'^-_'-::.!!v  ;.:'!;r.;id.     In  1G03  he  succeeded 


Iti— 2?> 


786 


M  O  N  — M  O  N 


Ingegneri  as  "maestro  di  capella ;"  and  in  1 C07  lie  produced, 
for  the  marriage  of  Francesco  Gonzaga, -'^'''-^'■st  opera, 
Ariana,  in  -n-hich  he  employed  the  newly-diSCOveud  dis^ 
cords  v.-ith  irresistible  effect.  Though  he  did  not  invent  the 
lyric  drama — Peri's  Enridice  having  been  produced  at 
Florence  in  1600 — he  raised  it  to  a  level  which  distanced 
all  contemporary  competition.  '  His  second  opera,  Orfeo, 
composed  in  1608,  was  even  more  successful  than  Ariana, 
and  was  based  upon  a  principle  which  is  held  by  some 
modern  critics  to  embody  the  only  law  to  which  the 
dramatic  composer  owes  obedience — that  of  accommodating 
the  music  to  the  exigencies  of  the  scene.  In  1613  Monte- 
verde  was  invited  to  Venice,  as  "  maestro  di  capella  "  at  St 
Mark's.  Here  he  composed  much  sacred  music,  the  gTeater 
jiart  of  which  is  lost, — acircumstance  the  less  to  be  regretted, 
since  his  Ycqiers  and  2Iasses  bear  no  comparison  with  thdsn 
produced  by  his  predecessors  in  ofHce.  In  1630  he  wrote 
another  grand  opera,  Proserpina  rapita.  In  "1639  he  pro- 
duced L'Adcne,  and  in  1 641  Ze  Ifozse  di  Enea  and  //  ritorno 
dUli^se.  These  later  works  show  him  still  greatly  in 
advance  of  his  age,  notwithstanding  the  progress  made  by 
other  composers  since  the  production  of  Orfeo.  Jlonteverde 
was  ordained  priest  in  1633;  and  he  died  in.  1643,  uni- 
versally respected.  Though  his  free  emploj-ment  of  the 
dominant  seventh  and  other  unprepared  discords  put  an 
end  to  the  school  of  Palestrina,  it  led  the  way  to  the  greatest 
achievements  of  modern  music. 

MONTEVIDEO,  S.vk  Felipe  y  Santiago  de,  the  capital 
of  the  republic  of  Uruguay  (Banda  Oriental)  in  South 
-America,  lies  on  the  eastern  side  of  a  nearly  semicircular 
bay  on  the  northern  shore  of  the  estuary  of  the  La  Plata, 
120  miles  from  Buenos  Ayres,  with  which  communication 
is  maintained  by  a  daily  service  of  steamers.  The  small 
peninsula  on  which  the  city  is  built  does  not  rise  more 
than  95  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea ;  but  the  headland 
of  Cerro,  505  feet  high,  whic'u  forms  the  western  side  of 
the  bay,  is  notable  enough  on  that  low-lying  coast  to  justify 
the  name  Montevideo ;  it  is  cro\vned  by  a  lighthouse,-  and 
by  an  old  Spanish  fort,  once  of  considerable  strength.  About 
620  acres  is  the  area  occupied  by  the.  city  proper;  the 
suburbs  stretch  for  miles  into  the  country.  The  plan  both 
of  the  old  and  the  new  to^^•n  is  regular ;  they  are  separated 
by  the  Calle  de  la  Ciudadela  on  the  line  of  the  old  ramparts. 
A  somewhat  Oriental  appearance  is  produced  by  the  low 
houses  with  their  flat  terraced  roofs  and  miradors  or  watch- 
towers,  from  which  the  merchants  look  out  for  ships.  As 
a  whole,  the  city  is  overbuilt,  and  immense  wealth  has  been 
squandered  in  Italian  marbles  and  other  forms  of  archi- 
tectural decoration.  The  streets  are  for  the  most  part  well 
])aved,  and  there  is  an  extensive  tramway  system.  Mare's 
grease  was  for  some  time  employed  to  make  gas  for  light- 
ing ;  but  an  epidemic  having  commenced  at  the  gas-yard 
the  woiks  were  for  a  timo  closed,  and  when  they  were  re- 
opened coal-gas  was  suljstituted.  Previous  to  1870,  when 
water  was  introduced  from  a  distance  of  -10  miles,  the  whole 
supply  was  dependent  on  the  rainfall.  In  the  old  town 
the  i)rincipal  s.quaro  is  the  Plaza  de  la  Constitucion,  the 
south  side  of  which  contains  the  "cathedral,"  and  the  north 
side  the  caUldo  (law-courts,  senate-house,  and  prison).  The 
cathedral  (as  it  is  usually  called,  though  tlie  bishop  is  a 
bLshop  in  jMrtihw,  and  takes  his  title  from  Megaera  in  Asia 
Jlinor)  is  a  somewhat  imposing  building,  consecrated  21st 
October  1804,  with  a  dome  and  two  side  towers  133  feet 
liigli,  which  forra.one  of  the  best  landmarks  of  the  bay.  In 
the  line  of  the  old  ramparts  formerly  stood  the  old  Spani.sh 
citadel,  which  was  built  by  the  seven  years'  forced  labour 
of  2000  Guarani  Indians.  From  1835  to  1868  it  served  as 
tho'piincipal  market  in  the  city;  in  1877  it  was  removed 
aitd  the  area  vinited  with  the  fine  Plaza  do  la  Independencia 
at  fiat  south-western  end  of  the  Calle  del  18  Julio,  a  broad 


street  which  runs  in  a  straight  lino  right  through  the  n'  .v 
town.  The  new  market,  covering  2  acres,  was  built  iu 
ICoJi  «t  a  cost  of  £86,000,  and  there  are  besides  the  Port 
market  (cost  £55,320)  and  the  Mercado  Chico.  The  ex- 
change, constructed  after  the  style  of  the  house  at  Bordeaux, 
dates  from  1864,  and  cost  X32,000.  Of  note  also  are  the 
custom-house,  the  post  office  (1866),  the  museum,  the  public 
library  (founded  in  1830  by  Dr  J.  M.  Perez  Castellano),  the 
university  (dating  from  1849),  the  Soils  theatre  (1856),  the 
British  hospital  (established  in  1857,  present  building  1867), 
the  Hospital  de  Caridad  (founded  by  Francisco  A.  Macil  in 
1825),  having  an  average  of  300  patients,  the  new  lunatic 
asylum  (1877),  the  Basque  church  (1858),  and  the  English 
church  (1845),  buUt  on  the  site  of  a  battery  taken  in  1807 
by  Sir  Samuel  Auchmuty'a  forces.     Since  the  beginning  of 


Map  of  MoDtevIdeo. 

the  century  the  depth  of  water  in  the  bay  has  been  allowed 
to  diminish  5  feet,  and  the  area  has  been  reduced  by  the 
construction  (1868)  of  an  embankment  to  carry  the  railway 
across  it.  Dredging  has  been  tried  from  time  to  time,  but 
on  too  limited  a  scale.  "The  so-called  harbour  is  a  space  of 
less  than  half  a  mile  square  off  the  north-west  face  of  the 
tawn ;  in  1 870  it  was  reported  to  be  yearly  becoming  smaller 
and  less  safe,  and  vessels  are  now  obUged  to  anchor  farther 
out.  Among  modern  improvements  in  the  port  the  most 
noteworthy  are  the  Maua  dry  docks,  -opened  in  1873,  and 
the  larger  docks,  erected  in  1877  at  a  cost  of  2,0,00,000 
dollars,  at  the  foot  of  the  Cerro  on  the  other  side  of  the 
bay.  The  trade  of  Montevideo  consists  mainly  in  the  ex- 
port of  the  raw  products  of  the  slaughter-house  (horns, 
hides,  hair,  tallow,  wool,  bones),  with  a  certain  quantity  of 
live  stock  and  preserved  meat,  and  in  the  import  of  European 
manufactures.  Duringthe  five  years  1877-1881  theayerage 
value  of  the  exports  was  £2,303,061,  and  that  of  the  imports 
£3,469,997.  Of  the  1044  vessels  (tonnage  780,870)  Avhich 
entered  in  1879,  285  were  English,  157  Spanish,  145  Italian, 
112  German,  and  99  French.  The  population  is  large!)-  of 
foreign  origin,  Italian,  Spanish,  Basque,  and  French.  In 
1874  the  Italians,  who  had  rapidly  increased  after  tho 
siege,  were  about  40,000  strong,  and  in  several  quarters  of 
the  city  nothing  was  to  be  heard  save  Korth-Italian  dialects 
Even  in  1880,  after  the  e.xodus  caused  by  the  confiscations 
of  1875,  they  numbered  36,300.  The  greater  proportion 
are  engaged  as  petty  traders.  In  1879  the  total  population 
of  the  town  was  73,879 ;  it  had  been  92,260  in  1878,  and 
105,296  in  1871,  and  now  (1883),  including  the  environs, 
is  110,167. 

Moutcvifico  owes  its  origin  not  to  tho  commercial  advantages 
C'T  its  position  but  to  the  jealousy  of  the  Spaniards  towards  the 
Portuguese,  which  led  Zabala,  viceroy  of  Buenos  AjTes,  to  erect  a 
fort  at  tills  iioint  in  1717.  In  1726  the  fii-st  settlers  were  intro- 
duced from  liio  Canary  Islands  aud  Andalusia,  aud  more  than  fifty 


M  0  N  —  M  0  N 


787 


^eara  passed  before  the  settlement  was  declared  a  port ;  but  by 
1781  it  had  6460  inhabitants,  and  by  1702  vras  iini»orting  to  the 
value  of  2,993,267  dollars,  and  exporting  to  the  value  of  4,150,523. 
In  1803  the  governor  of  Montevideo  was  the  first  to  revolt  against 
the  Spanish  authoiities,  and  to  establish  an  independent  junta ; 
twenty  years  later,  after  nruch  disastrous  confusion  and  conflict,  the 
city  became  the  recognized  capital  of  the  newly- formed  republic 
of  Banda  Oriental.  Its  population,  which  had  been  about  36,000 
st  the  opening  of  the  century,  was  reduced  to  9000  by  1829  ;  and 
it  had  hardly  recovered  its  ground  in  this  respect  (31,189)  when, 
in  1813,  Rosas,  dictator  of  Buenos  Ayrea,  wishing  to  compel  annexa- 
tion to  Buenos  Ayres,  commenced  the  siege  which  was  irregularly 
maintained  till  1852,  and  left  the  city  and  the  country  exhausted 
and  almost  mined,  .By  1860,  however,  the  population  had  in- 
crcns^-d  to  49,548  ;  and  though  the  BraEilians  blockaded  the  port 
in  1504-5  and  reinstated  ex-president  Flores  the  prosperity  of  the 
place  was  but  little  impaired.  During  the  Paraguayan  war,  which 
lasted  till  1864,  Montevideo  grew  rapidly  rich,  attracting  a  large 
sli.ire  of  the  ti-ado  diverted  from  Buenos  Ayres.  Immigrants 
flocked  from  all  quarters,  and  excessive  investments  were  made  in 
all  kinds  of  real  property.  The  valuation  of  the  city  and  suburbs, 
which  v.-as  14,156,000  dollars  in  1860,  reached  the  sum  of 
74,900,000  dollars  in  1872.  Reckless  speculation,  political  dis- 
sension, and  the  financial  mismanagement  of  the  Government  have 
told  heavily  ;  the  vahie  of  house  property  has  greatly  diminished, 
and  commercial  activity  has  been  giievously  restiicted.  Since  1 881 , 
however,  Montevideo  has  been  lupidly  recovering,  and  its  natural 
advantages  are  so  great  that,  with  better  political  circumstances, 
a  future  of  yet  higher  prosperity  may  be  anticipated. 

N'otius  of  Montenileo  will  be  found  in  BoneDi,  TrxtveU  in  SoUvia,  4c.,  1854  ; 
Hadfleltl,  Brasil,  Vu  Siver  PiaU,  4c.,  1S5-I,  and  his  supplemental  volnme,  1868  ; 
Mulhalt,  Handbook  of  thi  River  FlaU  Mepttbties,  1S74;  and  Gallenga,  South 
Anrrica^  1S81.  See  also  Brignardello,  Dclle  vicejide  tUW  America  merid,  e 
tpeeialm.  di  ilonteviJco  nelV  Vruguaij,  Genoa,  1873 :  Tk«  Republic  of  Urvgiiay, 
18S3  ;  the  reports  of  the  municipal  junta,  and  VallUnt's  statistical  publications, 

MONTEZUMA.  See  Coktes  and  ilExicx* 
MONTFAUCON,  Beknaed  de  (1655-1741),  critic  and 
Scholar,  was  bom  of  a  noble  and  ancient  family  at  the 
chateau  of  Soulage  (now  Soulatgi,  in  the  department  of 
Aube,  France),  on  13th  January  1655.  Though  destined  for 
the  army,  he  passed  most  of  his  time  in  the  library  of  the 
castle  of  Roquetaillade  (the  usual  residence  of  his  family), 
devouring  books  in  different  languages  and  on  almost  every 
A-ariety  of  subject,  his  studies  being  directed  by  a  learned 
friend  of  his  father,  Pavilion,  bishop  of  AJeth.  In  1672 
he  entered  the  army,  and  in  the  two  following  years  served 
as  a  volunteer  in  Germany  under  Turenne.  But  ill-health 
and  the  death  of  his  parents  brought  him  back  to  his 
studious  life,  and  irt  1675  he  entered  the  cloister  of  the 
Congregation  of  St  Maur,  at  La  Daurade,  Toulouse,  taking 
the  vows  there  on  13th  May  1676.  Apart  from  his  vast 
literary  labours,  the  remainder  of  his  life  presents  little  to 
record.  He  lived  successively  at  various  abbeys  —  at 
Soreze,  where  he  specially  studied  Greek  and  examined 
the  numerous  JISS.  of  the  convent  library,  at  La  Grasse, 
and  at  Bordeaux;  and  in  1687  he  was  removed  to  Saint 
Germain  des  Pres.  From  1698  to  1701  he  lived  in  Italy, 
chiefly  in  Rome.  Returning  to  Saint  Germain,  he  was 
made  a  member  of  the  Academie  des  Inscriptions  et  Belies- 
Lettres  in  1719.     He  died  on  21st  December  1711. 

His  fii-st  publication,  in  which  he  was  assisted  by  I^pia  and 
Pouget,  was  the  first  volume  of  a  never  completed  series  of  previously 
unpublished  Annlcda  Grxca.  (168S).  In  1690  appeared  Lis  defence 
of  the  literally  Ivistorical  cliaracter  of  the  book  of  J  udith.  Athaiiasii 
oycra  omnia,  still  the  best  edition  of  that  father,  was  issued  with 
a  biogi^pliy  and  critical  notes  in  1598.  The  first-fruits  of  his  visit 
to  Italy  were  seen  in  his  copious  Diarium  ItctHcum,  sin  moiiumcn- 
toritm  vctcrum,  bibliothecannn,  mHsaeorum,  d:c.,  notitim  singulares 
in  itinerario  Ilalico  collcda  (1702).  The  Palmographia  Grmca, 
site  de  orttt  cl progrcau  literarum  Grmcarum,  et  dc  variis  omnium 
ssecttlorum  scriptionia  Ctxcs:  generibus  (1708)  is  a  standard  work, 
which  has  not  yet  been  superseded  ;  in  its  own  field  it  is  as  original 
as  the  De  re  diplomalica  of  ^lablllon.  In  1713  ilontfaucon  edited 
Hexaphrum  Origenis  qus  snperstmi  (2  vols,  fol.),  only  recently 
superseded  by  the  work  of  Field  ;  and  between  1718  and  1738  he 
completed  his  edition  of  Joannis  CKrysosiomi  opera  omnia  (13  vols, 
fol.),  which  is  hardly  an  improvement  upon  that  of  H.  Saville.  His 
VAntiquiU  cxpUqnfe  et  representee  en  figures  (10  vols,  fol.,  1719) 
would  of  itself  suffice  to  establish  a  reputation  for  colossal  dili- 
gence. It  was  continued  by  him  in  Lcs  Monxonens  dc  la  ilojiarchie 
Frartfoiae  (5  vols..fol.,  1729-1733).  A  complete  list  of  his  literary 
iabouis,  including  his  numerous  contributions  to  the  Mtmoircs  of 


the  Academy  of  Inscnptions,  will  be  found  in  the  NouvcUe  Bic-jraphit 
G^nirah,  6.  v.  V  Jlontfaucon. " 

MONTFOET,  SiMo.v  de,  Eael  of  Leicester  (c.  120O- 
1265),  a  great  political  leader,  and  sometimes  even  re- 
ferred to  as  the  "  founder  of  the  English  House  of  Com- 
mons," born  in  France  about  the  beginning  of  the  l.'ilh 
century,  was  the  fourth  and  youngest  son  of  Simon  IT. 
de  Montfort  and  of  Alice  de  Montmorency.  Of  his  early 
life  and  education  nothing  is  known,  the  first  definitely 
recorded  fact  about  him  being  that  in  April  1230  he  wa.s 
in  England  and  had  attached  himself  to  the  service  of 
Henry  III.,  who  granted  him  a  temporary  pension  of  400 
marks,  with  a  promise  of  the  earldom  which  his  father  had 
held.'  In  the  following  year  he  did  homage  for  the 
honour  of  Leicester,  and  in  1232  the  king  confirmed  to 
him  all  the  land  with  appurtenances  which  had  belonged 
to  the  late  earl  in  England.  But,  though  thus  formally 
admitted  to  the  ranks  of  the  English  baronage,  he  did  not 
for  several  years  succeed  in  making  way  against  the  strong 
dislike  in  which  "aliens"  were  now  held,  and  until  1230 
most  of  his  time  was  spent,  in  considerable  povertyj 
abroad.  In  that  year,  however,  he  attended  the  king's 
marriage  to  Eleanor  of  Provence  as  lord  high  steward, 
and  thenceforward  began  to  take  part  in  the  business  of 
the  royal  council.  Handsome,  talented,  and  brave,  he 
gained  the  love  of  Eleanor,  widow  of  the  earl  of  PembroVe, 
and  sister  of  the  king,  to  whom  he  was  privately  married 
at  Westminster  on  7th  January  1238,  Henry  himself 
giving  away  the  bride.  When  the  fact  became  known, 
the  indignation  of  the  baronage  and  of  the  people  had 
almost  broken  out  in  open  rebellion,  and,  after  Simon  had 
with  difficulty  averted  this  by  propitiating  his  brother- 
in-law,  Richard,  earl  of  Cornwall,  he  found  it  necessary  to 
go  to  Rome  to  meet  the  objections  which  the  church  had 
raised  on  the  ground  of  an  alleged  previous  vow  made  by 
Eleanor.  Having  succeeded  in  obtaining  (by  bribery,  it 
would  seem)  the  papal  sanction  to  his  marriage,  he  re- 
turned to  England  in  October,  and  early  next  year,  still 
in  the  enjoyment  of  the  royal  favour,  he  had  the  earldom 
of  Leicester  formally  conferred  upon  him  in  presence  of 
the  assembled  barons.  In  June  (1239)  he  assisted  as  god- 
father and  high  steward  at  the  baptism  of  Prince  Edward  ; 
but  the  machinations  of  his  enemies  were  soon  afterwards 
successful  in  bringing  about  a  change  in  the  fickle  humour 
of  Henry,  and  when  Simon  came  back  to  Westminster  id 
August  to  attend  the  churching  of  the  queen  the  king 
met  him  with  the  information  that  he  was  an  excommuni- 
cated person,  and  ordered  him  to  leave  the  church.'-  Along 
with  his  wife  he  forthwith  went  into  volvmtary  exile  in 
France;  but  in  April  1240  he  returned  to  England,  and 
was  received  by  the  king  on  a  footing  of  at  lea-st  outward 
friendship.     Of   his  private  and  public  life  during  the 


'  Simon  IV.  de  Jlontfort,  the  welI-knoi\-n  Albigsnsian  crusa<i<;r,  in 
right  of  liis  mother,  Amicia  de  Beaumont,  sister  and  co-helress  of  Robert 
Fitz-Peruell,  earl  of  Leicester,  succeeded  to  that  earldom  in  1204,  and 
in  1207  W.13  confirmed  in  the  liigh  stewardship  of  England,  hereditary 
iu  connexion  with  the  title.  Soon  afterwards  he  was  deprived  of  his 
English  possessions  under  some  pretext,  the  real  reason  doubtless 
being  his  position  as  captaiu-general  of  the  French  forces  against  the 
Albigenses  (1208).  He  received4hem  again  towards  the  end  of  John'* 
reign,  their  custody,  however,  being  committed  to  his  nephew,  the  eail 
of  Chester.  The  long  hostility  between  England  and  France  during 
the  early  years  of  Heury  III.  made  it  practically  impossible  for  the 
alien  De  Montforts  to  maintain  any  hold  upon  their  English  earldom 
on  the  death  of  Simon  IV.  in  1218  ;  in  1231,  after  the  peace,  the 
eldest  son  Aniaury  (now  constable  of  France)  renounced  all  claim  t'r 
it,  thus  learing  the  field  clear  to  his  next  soniving  brother  Simon. 

'  There  is  no  evidence  that  Simon  actually  had  been  excommuni- 
cated, but  it  seem',  ripar  that  certain  payments  he  had  agieed  to  make 
to  the  Koman  ciir'ia  had  not  been  punctually  attended  to,  aud  that 
some  anncvance  had  bem  in  this  way  caused  to  the  king.  The  charge 
of  immorai  relations  with  Eleanor  was  probably  only  a  conveniently 
coarse  way  of  restating  the  ecclesiastical  offence  for  which  Do  Mont- 
fort had  already  purchased  absolution. 


788 


O  JS  —  M  O  N 


next  eight  years  Toiy  few  facts  have  been  preserved. 
There  is  soms  ground  for  bcheving  that  he  n-ent  to  the 
Holy  Land  '}n  1240.  and  a  letter  ia  still  extant  in  which 
the  nobility  of  the  kingdom  of  Jerusaler;-!  ask  Frederick 
n.  (June  1241)  to  allow  Simon  de  Montfort,  earl  of 
Leicester,  to  act  as  regent  tiU  the  arrival  of  his  son  Conrad. 
In  1242  ho  accompanied  Henry's  unsucccsEful  expedition 
to  France.  In  the  parliamentary  history  of  these  years 
his  name  appears  but  seldom,  but  -where  he  is  mentioned 
he  is  invariably  found  on  the  side  of  the  people,  resisting 
alike  the  arbitrary  wastefulness  of  the  kijig  and  the 
rapacious  exactions  of  the  pope.  In  1248  Do  Montfort 
was  appointed  for  six  years  the  king's  "seneschal,"  or 
"locum-tenens,"  in  Gascony.  In  this  capacity  he  was 
very  inadequately  supported  from  home  with  either  men 
or  money ;  he  more  than  once  subdued  the  rebellious 
provinces,  indeed,  but  meanwhile  his  enemies  at  home 
gained  strenjjth  and  encouraged  the  Gascons  in  repeated 
accusations  and  complaints  against  the  seneschal.  These  re- 
sulted in  one-sided  inquiries;  but  ultimately  in  his  acquittal, 
and  led  to  a  demand  on  his  part  for  reparation,  and  a  con- 
sequent quarrel  with  the  king.  Towards  the  end  of  1252 
De  Montfort  reth'ed  into  France,  where  such  was  the 
reputation  he  enjoyed  as  a  statesman  that,  on  the  death  of 
the  queen-regent  and  in  the  absence  of  Louis  IX.,  he  was 
offered  the  office  of  high  steward  and  a  place  among  the 
guardians  of  the  crown.  This,  however,  he  declined,  "  being 
unwilling  to  prove  a  renegade;"  and,  after  a  partial  recon- 
ciliation with  Henry,  he  retmmed  to  England  in  1254.  In 
the  foUowLag  year  he  was  sent  on  a  secret  mission  into 
>Scotland,  and  in  1257  he  was  one  of  the  king's  ambassadors 
to  France;  but  his  chief  activity  between  1254  and  1258, 
if  wo  are  to  judge  by  the  prominent  place  he  took  in  the 
revolution  of  the  last-named  year,  must  have  been  in  the 
meetings  of  parliament.  At  the  Westminster  parliament 
in  April  1258'  it  was  significantly  upon  the  earls  of  Glou- 
cester and  Leicester  that  the  king's  half-brother,  William 
de  Valence,  laid  the  blame  of  all  the  evils  under  which  the 
country  was  groaning,  De  Montfort  in  particular  being 
called  by  liim  "  an  old  traitor  and  a  liar."  At  Leicester's 
suggestion  the  barons  leagued  for  the  defence  of  their 
rights,  and  presented  themselves  armed  at  the  meeting, 
which  extorted  the  appointment  of  the  committee  of 
twenty-four  to  meet  at  Oxford  and  proceed  at  once  with 
tlie  reform  of  the  realm.  The  Provisions  of  Oxford  having 
been  signed  (October  1258),  De  Montfort  received  the  cus- 
tody of  the  castfe  of  Winchester,  where  the  parliament  con- 
tinued its  session,  ho  meanwhile  apparently  holding  the 
position  of  military  commander4u-chief ;  and,  after  the 
removal  of  the  barons  to  London,  he  was  appointed  member 
of  an  embassy  to  Scotland.  In  the  early  part  of  1259  he 
was  chiefly  busied  with  the  task  of  adjusting  the  terms  of 
a  peace  with  France,  which  was  not  settled  until  the  end  of 
that  year.  From  the  date  of  .the  conclusion  of  that  peace, 
owing  to  divisions  in  the  reforming  party,  the  king  began 
■to  regam  liis  lost  power,  and  in  1262  he  felt  himself  strong 
enough  to  repudiate  the  Provisions  of  Oxford,  thus  giving 
the  signal  for  civil  wa,r.  The  successes  of  the  barons,  led 
by  De  Montfort,  in  the  west,  and  his  victorious  entry  into 
London  .again  reduced  the  king  to  submission,  but  only  to 
bring  once  more  also  into  prominence  the  divided  slate  of 
Lticcstcr'a  supporters.  Louis's  one-sided  Mise  of  Ajr.iens 
(1204),  however,  rendered  another  appeal  to  arms  on  the 
;;art  of  the  bai-ons  inevitable,  and  by  the  victoiy  of  Lewes 
(14th  May  12G4)  Do  Montfort  for  the  time  became  master 
of  England.  Taking  Hemy,  his  prisoner,  along  v/ith  him 
to  London,  he  summoned  thither  the  parliament,  which 
met  in  June,  and  drew  up  the  constitution  or  scheme  of 
government  a-scocialcd  with  his  name,  of  which  the  most 
utrikuig  feature  is  the  new  development  it  gives  to  the 


representative  ayslcra.  A  .".till  further  adv^iicc  in  the 
development  louk  place  in  1265,  when  borough  member.;, 
as  distinguished  from  county  members,  were  for  the  first 
time  summoned.  Mciv.vhile  troubles  in  the  west  required 
De  J!ontfort'.s  presence  in  the  field,  and,  by  tlie  alliance  of 
his  rival  Oloucej.ttr  wii,h  Roger  Mortimer,  as  well  as  by 
the  escape  of  Prince  Edward,  who  put  himself  at  the  hea<l 
of  the  royalist  opposition,  the  great  parliamentary  leader 
was  placed  in  serious  .-straits.  At  Evesham,  where  he  had 
halted  on  his  march  to  join  his  son  at  Kenilworth,  he  was 
surprised  by  the  army  of  Prince  Edward,  and  after  • 
struggle  of  about  two  hours  was  slain  on  the  field  of  bat;: 
(4th  August  1265).  As  regards  the  personal  character  f 
De  Montfort,  it  is  not  surprising  to  find  that  contempori ;  ■ 
opinion  v/as  divided ;  bub  of  his  determination,  cons  Lam  ■  , 
and  energy  there  can  be  no  question,  while  much  is  ;■• 
vealed  by  the  fact  that,  though  in  an  unauthorized  v;  ;  . 
his  memory  was  revered  in  England  as  a  saint  and  mart;,  i 
offices  were  dra^^Ti  up  in  his  honour,  his  intercession  in- 
voked, and  miracidous  virtues  attributed  to.  his  relics. 
The  painstaking  labours  of  recent  investigators  have  tended 
to  bring  into  clearerlight  the  purity  and  nobleness  of  pur- 
pose of  Simon  do  Montfort  as  a  consistent  defender  of  the 
rights  of  the  governed  ;  on  the  other  hand,  it  has  also  be- 
come ob%dou3  that  the  representative  institutions  of  Eng- 
land, though  largely  helped  forward  by  him,  can  hardly  be 
claimed  as  his  ci-eation.  Thus  on  both  sides  the  statement 
of  Hujno  that  the  House  of  Commons  was  planted  by  tj'.f 
inauspicious  hand  of  this  bold  and  artful  conspirator  must 
be  rejected  as  inconsistent  with  the  facts. 

Coraparo  England,  vol.  viii.  p.  310  sqg.,  and  see  the  monoj^i-aphs 
of  Paiili  {SL?non  von  Montfort^  Oraf  von,  Leicester^  Dcr  Schi}tfcr  ar«- 
Hauscs  dcr  Ocmeiucn,  Tubingen,  1867)  and  Protliero  (Tlie  Life  of 
Simon  de  Montfort,  1877),  and  the  literatin-e  tlieio  referred  to. 

MONTGOMERY  (Welsh,  Sivj/dd  Tre  Faldiv7jn\  an 
inland  comity  of  Wales,  is  boimded  E.  by  Shropshire,  N.E. 
by  Denbigh,  N.W.  by  Jlerioneth,  S.W.  by  Cardigan,  and  S. 
by  Radnor..  Its  greatest  length  from  soutli-east  to  north- 
west is  about  40  miles,  and  its  breadth  from  east  to  west 
about  .35  miles.  The  area  is  495,089  acres,  or  about  773 
square  miles.  The  surface  is  broken  and  undulating, 
but  it  is  only  round  the  borders  of  the  county  that  the 
hills  rea,ch  any  great  height,  the  highest  summits  of  the 
diflferent  ranges  being  generally  in  the  adjoining  countit 
To  the  north  are  the  Berwyn  chain,  stretching  into  Denbi;:! : 
shire,  in  the  east  the  Breidden  hiiU,  in  the  soutli  the  Ker.  , 
hills,  and  in  the  south-west  Plinlimmon,  the  hi'^iiest  stmimii 
of  which  is  in  Cardigan.  These  various  mountain  range, 
form  the  watershed  of  the  numerous  rivers  of  jUontgomer\ 
shire.  With  the  exception  of  the  Dyfi,  which  rises  nc?,. 
Bala  Lake  and  falls  into  Cardigan  Bay,  and  the  Wye,  whic!: 
flows  south  into  Radnorshire,  all  the  principal  rivers  r.r^ 
,  tributaries  of  the  Severn  (Welsh,  Hafrcn),  which  rises  on 
the  east  side  of  Plinhmmon  and  traverses  the  whole  length 
of  the  county  from  south-west  to  north-east.  The  principal 
of  these  tributaries  are  the  Clyvvetlog,  the  Taranon,  t;. . 
Rhiew,  and  the  Vyrnwy.  This  fine  succession  of  ri'vi  r 
valleys  broaden  out  as  they  reach  the  great  vale  of  th 
Severn,  and  the  beauty  of  the  scenery  is  enhanced  by  :.: 
abundance  of  oak  and  other  trees.  The  Mcntgomcryshh^ 
canal,  which  has  a  length  of  27  miles,  and  passes  the 
principal  towiie,  is  connected  with  the  EUesmere  canal, 
thus  affording  water  commtinication  mth  Chester  and 
Shrewsbury. 

Montgomcry-shire  is  occupied  chiefly  by  Lower  Silurir  ■ : 
rocks.  Tlio  boundary  between  it  and  Merioneth  is  forny  ! 
by  the  Bala  beds.  In  the  centre  and  cast,  near  Llani'.i  r 
and  Slontgomery,  Wenlock  shales  i^rcvail.  In  the  nri);i 
bourhood  of  Welshpool  the  Silurian  rocks  jiave  been  fr^ 
qucntlv  dLilocated  by  volcanic  masses,  one  of  the  mcit 


M  O  N  — M  O  N 


789 


remarkable  of  which  is  Corndon  Hill,  rising  to  a  height  of 
1700  feet.  In  some  places  the  sedimentary  rocks  have 
been  penetrated  by  trap  mingled  with  shale  or  schist. 
Along  the  lines  of  dislocation  there  are  frequent  deposits 
of  metallic  lodes,  carried  there  by  the  heated  water  rising 
from  below.  The  lead  mines  of  Montgomeryshire  are  of  con- 
siderable importance,  and  at  present  the  metal  is  wrought 
at  seven  different  places.  In  1881  the  amount  of  lead  ore 
obtained  in  the  various  mines  was  3432  tons,  yielding  2693 
toas  of  lead  and  25,432  oz.  of  silver,  the  total  value  being 
.£30,495.  There  were  also  obtained  1414  tons  of  zinc 
ore,  yielding  610  tons  of  zinc,  of  a  total  value  of  £3231. 

Agriculture. — The  climate  is  mild  and  genial,  and  the  soil  in  the 
valleys  remarkably  fertile,  especially  along  the  banks  of  the  Severn. 
A  considerable  portion  on  the  borders  of  Merioneth  is,  however, 
oocnpied  chiefly  by  heath  and  moss.  The  number  of  holdings  has 
been  rather  decreasing  of  late  years,  the  decrease  being  chiefly  in 
those  below  50  acres  in  extent,  which  in  1880  (the  latest  year 
regarding  which  there  is  information)  numbered  3572,  while  there 
■were  1650  between  50  and  300  acres,  and  45  above  300  acres,  of 
which  2  were  above  1000.  According  to  tlio  agricultural  returns  of 
1382,  the  total  area  of  arable  land  was  266,084  acres,  or  nearly  one- 
ti.ilf  of  the  whole.  Of  this  63,538  were  under  com  crops,  163,441 
•were  permanent  pasture,  23,882  rotation  gi'asses,  and  only  11,107 
green  crops  ;  457  acre.5  were  under  orchards,  2  under  market  gardens, 
37  under  nursery  grounds,  and  22,744  under  wooib.  Of  the  corn 
crops,  wheat  occupied  18,665  acres,  and  oats  23,937  acres.  Cattle, 
wliich  are  chie.ly  Hereforda  and  cross-breeds,  tliongh  there  are  some 
Devons  and  a  few  of  the  old  Montgomeryshire  breed,  numbered 
02,033  in  1832,  of  which  21,912  were  cows  and  heifers  in  milk  or  in 
calf.  Horses  in  1882  numbered  13,985,  of  which  7060  were  used 
solely  for  agricultural  purposes.  Tlio  county  was  long  famous  for 
ita  liardy  breed  of  small  horsed  called  merlins,  which  are  still  to  be 
met  with.  JIany  good  hunter.'i  and  cart-horses  are  now  bred.  The 
number  of  sheep  in  1882  was  305,641.  On  some  of  the  heath  lands 
in  the  centre  and  west  of  the  county  a  diminutive  breed  of  sheep 
c.iUcd  c'.uns  is  pastured,  but  those  kept  in  the  better  cultivated 
regions  are  principally  Shropsliiro  Downs.  According  to  the  latest 
Toturn,  tbo  land  was  divided  am.ong  3241  proprietors,  possessing 
3S7,S42  acres,  with  a  gloss  annual  rental  of  £378,612.  Of  these, 
1314,  or  40  j)cr  cent.,  possessed  less  than  one  acre,  32  possessed 
:  uTWCcn  1000  and  2000  acres,  and  25  between  2000  and  5000  ;  the 
following  possessed  upwards  of  5000  acres,  viz. — Earl  Powis,  33,645  ; 
Sir  \V.  W.  Wynn,  32,963  ;  Lord  Sudcley,  17,168  ;  J.  Naylor,  9276  ; 
and  marquis  of  Londonderry,  7400. 

Manvfaclures. — In  all  the  towns  the  manufachire  of  woollen 
cloth,  especially  Welsh  flannel,  is  earned  on,  ,and  althongh  the 
industry  was  lately  on  the  decline  it  is  now  reviving. 

Administralimi  and  Population. ~~yio\itgo\mry^nT&  comprises 
nice  hundreds,  and  the  municipal  boroughs  of  Llanidloes  (3421)  and 
Welshpool  (7107).  Llanfyllin,  Uanidloes,  Machynlleth,  Mont- 
gomery, Newtown,  and  Welshpool  form  the  Montgomery  district  of 
borough?,  with  a  total  population  in  1881  of  19,925,  and  return  one 
member  to  parliament.  One  member  is  also  returned  for  the  county. 
Moutgomcryeliire  is  p.iitly  in  the  dioceses  of  Bangor,  Hereford,  and 
St  Asaph,  and  contains  sucty-eight  civil  parishes,  townships,  or 
places,  as  well  as  parts  of  other  parishes  in  .adioining  counties.  From 
65,7G0  in  1601  the  population  had  increased  in  1851  to  67,33.'i,  and 
mVn  to  67,623,  but  in  1881  ithad  duniuishod  to  65,718,  of  whom 
33,004  were  m.iles  and  32,714  females. 

ffiit^nt. — At  the  time  of  the  Roman  invasion,  Montgomery  was 
possessed  by  a  tribe  of  the  CjTnri  called  Ordovices.  Traces  of 
several  of  tlio  old  British  camps  still  remain,  the  principal  being 
those  at  Dolarddyn,  on  Breidden  Hill,  and  at  Caereinion.  There  are 
also  a  large  number  of  cairas  and  barrows.  The  county  was  tra- 
versed by  the  great  Roman  road,  the  J'ia  Dcvana,  which  was  joined 
Ijy  .■•.  number  of  others  ;  but  the  remains  of  Roman  camps  or  stations 
am  unimportant.  .After  being  vacated  by  the  Romans,  little  is 
known  of  the  history  of  Montgomery,  until  Wales  was  subdivided 
into  three  districts  at  the  death  of  Rhodii  the  Great.  Montgomery 
was  then  included  under  Powj-s,  and  formed  the  chief  portion  of 
Powya  Gwcnwynwyn,  sometimes  called  Upper  Powys.  Powys  or 
Pov.T.!  f.istle,  the  seat  of  tho  nilcrs  of  Upper  Powys,  was  founded  in 
1103.  Ealdwyn,  from  which  the  county  takes  its  Welsh  name,  was 
lieutenont  of  tho  marches  ;  and,  for  the  purpose  of  holding  the  dis- 
trict in  check,  a  cistle  was  built  about  the  e«d  of  the  lltli  centuiy, 
which,  after  being  captured  by  the  natives,  was  retaken  by  Roger 
<lo  iiontgomcry.  He  gave  his  name  to  tho  castle,  and  to  tho  sur- 
tfDunding  district  of  ancient  Powyg,  which  was  made  a  couuty  by 
Henry  VIIL  in  1533. 

MojrTGOMERY,  the  county  town,  is  situated  on  the  decli- 
vity of  a  well-wooded  hi!!  near  tlie  eastern  bank  of  the 
Severn.  21^  miles  south  by  vast  of  Shrewsb'iry,  and  IST'J 


by  rail  ncrth-'.rest  by  north  of  London.  It  is  a  clean  and 
well-built  tov/n,  but  somewhat  scattered  and  irregular. 
The  principal  building.^  are  the  parish  church  of  Saint 
Nicholas  (an  old  cruciforju  structure)  and  tlie  town-haU. 
The  borough  has  returned  members  to  parliament  since 
the  time  of  Heniy  Arm.,  but  by  the  Reform  Act  of  1832  it 
was  constituted  one  of  the  Montgoraeiy  district  of  boroughs, 
which  together  return  one  member.  The  population  of 
the  borough  (area,  3323  acres)  was  1194  in  1881. 

There  are  only  a  few  crumbling  remains  of  the  old  fortress  of 
Montgomery,  originally  founded  in  tlie  time  of  William  the  Con- 
queror to  overawe  the  Welsh,  and  held  by  Roger  de  Montgomery, 
from  whom  the  town  takes  its  name.  The  castle  was  greatly 
enlarged  in  tho  time  of  Henry  IIL,  when  it  was  the  scene  of  fre- 
quent contests  between  that  monarch  and  Llewelyn  the  Great.  In 
the  14  th  century  it  was  held  by  the  Jlortimers,  from  whom  it  passed 
to  tho  house  of  York.  By  the  crown  it  was  granted  in  the  IStli 
centiu-y  to  the  Herberts  of  Cherbnry,  but  during  the  Civil  War  it 
was  surrendered  by  Lord  Herbert  of  Cherburj-  to  the  Parliamentary 
forces,  by  whom  it  was  dismantled. 

MONTGOMERY,  a  district  in  the  lieutenant-governor- 
ship of  the  Punjab,  lying  between  29°  58'  and  31°  33'  N. 
lat.,  and  between  72°  29'  and  74°  10'  E.  long.,  is  bounded 
on  the  N.E.  by  L^ihore,  on  the  S.E.  by  the  river  Sutlej, 
on  the  S.W.  by  Jlultjn,  and  on  the  N.W.  by  Jhang.  The 
area  is  5573  square  miles.  Montgomery  district,  formerly 
known  as  Gugaira,  occupies  a  wide  extent  of  the  Biri 
DoAb,  or  wedge  of  land  betv/een  the  Sutlej  and  the  E4vi, 
besides  stretching  across  tho  latter  river  into  the  adjoining 
Eechna  Do4b.  In  the  former  tract  a  fringe  of  cultivated 
lowland  skirts  the  bank  of  either  river,  but  the  whole 
interior  upland  c(»isists  of  a  desert  plateau  partially  over- 
grown with  brashwood  and  coarse  grass,  and  in  places  witli 
impenetrable  jungle.  On  the  farther  side  of  the  Rivi, 
again,  the  country  at  once  assumes  the  same  desert  aspect. 

The  census  of  1863  returned  the  population  at  359,437  (males 
200,016,  females  159,421),  viz.,  Hindus,  69,805;  Mohammedans, 
277,291  ;  Sikhs,  12,286  ;  and  "others,"  55.  The  J.its,  or  pastoral 
tribe,  form  the  most  distinctive  class  i.i  the  district.  They  bear 
the  name  of  "  Great  Ravi,"  in  contradistinction  to  the  purely  agri- 
CTiltural  classes,  who  are  contemptuously  styled  "Little  Rivi." 
They  possesses  fine  physique,  with  handsome  features,  claim  a 
Rajput  ancestry,  and  despise  all  who  handle  the  plough.  In 
former  days  they  exercised  practical  sovereignty  over  the  agricul- 
tural tribes.  Only  two  towns  in  the  district  contain  over  5000 
inhabitants,  viz.,  Pak  Pattan  (6086)  and  Kamalia  (5695).  The 
town  of  Montgomery,  the  headquarters  station,  had  a  population  of 
onlv  2116  in  1SG8. 

Out  of  a  total  assessed  ares  of  3,569,746  acres,  only  538,240  aie 
retuined  as  under  cultivation.  In  1872-73  the  rail  (or  spring 
harvest)  acreoge  was  as  follows :— wheat  (the  chief  crop),  162,989 
acres;  barley,  30,134;  gram,  21,416;  mustard,  2077  ;  and  tobacco, 
1303  acres.  In  the  same  year  the  kharif{ox  autumn  harvest)  acreage 
was:— j/'oiir,  20,509  acres;  rice,  18,727;  cotton,  16,916;  (li,  12,46?; 
kayfgni,  9493  ;  and  sugar-cane,  493  acres.  Irrigation  is  practisetl 
from  rivers,  canals,  and  wells  ;  the  tot.al  area  ii'iigatcd  by  pnblic 
works  is  66,495  acres,  and  by  private  works,  158,709.  Tlte  desert 
uplands  afi'ord  after  the  rains  a  scanty  pasturage  for  the  scattered 
herds  of  tho  Great  Ravi  Jdts,  and  yield  an  impure  carbonate  of  soda 
[sajji)  from  the  alkaline  pl.-mts  with  which  they  abound.  The  com- 
mercial staples  include  wheat,  rice,  gi'am,  millets,  cotton,  woo),  aAi", 
hides,  and  sajji.  Large  numbers  of  camels  are  bred  for  exportation. 
The  imports  comprise  sugar,  salt,  oil,  English  piece  goods,  metals, 
indigo,  and  fruits.  The  manufactures  consist  of  country  cloth, 
coai-se  striped  silk,  and  lacquered  wood-work.  The  Lahore  and 
Mi'dtan  railway  intersects  the  district,  which  is  also  traversed  in 
every  direction  by  good  unmctalled  highways.  The  revenue  of  the 
district  in  1871-72  amounted  to  £47,954,  of  which  £42,355  was 
derived  from  the  land-tax.  Education  in  1871-72  was  afforded  by 
59  aided  and  unaided  schools,  with  a  total  of  1417  ])upils.  The 
average  annual  rainfall  for  tho  seven  years  ending  16/2-73  was  9 '6 
inches. 

From  time  immemorial  the  Rechna  Dcib  has  formed  the  home 
of  a  wild  race  of  pastoral  Jats,  who  have  constantly  maintained  a 
sturdy  independence  against  the  successive  rulers  of  northern  India. 
The  historians  of  Alexander's  invasion  mention  a  tribe  called  tho 
Cathseans,  who  probably  had  their  capital  at  Sangala  in  the  Jhang 
district,  and  the  ilalli  with  their  metropolis  at  Miiltdn,  as  in 
possession  of  this  part  of  the  counti-y.  "Fne  sites  of  Kot  Kamalia 
and  Harappa  in  Montgomery  contain  large  mounds  of  anti(^uo 
bricks  and  other  ruins,  while  many  other  r'.'inains  of  ancient  cities 


"90 


M  O  N  — ^I  O  N 


or  villages  lie  sc.ittorca  along  the  river  bnuk,  or  dot  the  now  barren 
stretches  of  the  central  wasto,  clearly  mr.rking  the  former  ej-istonce 
of  a  consiUerable  nopiilatiou.  The  [i-iotoral  tribes  of  this  barren 
expanse  do  not  appear  to  have  paid  more  than  a  nominal  allegiance 
to  the  Moslem  rulers,  and  even  in  bfer  days,  when  Ranji't  Sinh 
cxteuded  the  Sikh  supremacy  as  far  as  Jli'dtau,  the  country  yielded 
little  or  no  revenue,  and  the  population  for  the  most  part  re- 
mained in  a  chronic  state  of  rebellion.  British  influence  was  first 
exorcised  in  the  district  in  1S47,  when  an  oflicer  was  deputed  to 
cflect  a  summary  settlement  of  the  land  revenue.  Direct  British 
rule  was  effected  on  the  annexation  of  the  Punjab  in  1849.  The 
only  incident  since  then  was  a  general  rising  of  fho  wild  clans  dur- 
ing the  mutiny  of  lSj7,  several  actions  being  fought  before  the 
clans  were  defeated  and  dispcreed  and  order  restored. 

MOXTGOJEERY,  a  city  of  the  United  States,  the 
capital  of  Alabama,  is  built  on  a  high  bluff  on  the  left 
batik  of  the  Alabama  river,  158  miles  north-east  of  Mobile, 
with  which  it  is  connected  by  rail  (180  miles)  and  by  a 
steamboat  service  (330  miles).  The  State-house,  rebuilt 
in  1851  at  a  cost  of  875,000,  occupies  a  commanding 
aite  on  Capitol  Hill.  There  are  a  city-hall,  a  court-house, 
and  two  theatres,  a  large  flour-mill,  a  cotton-factory,  two 
oil-mills,  a  fertilizer-factory,  and  seTeral  foimdries  and 
machine  shops.  The  population  was  16,713  in  1880;  and, 
ill  consequence  of  the  marked  increase  in  commercial  and 
industrial  activity  since  that  date,  it  is  now  (1883)  esti- 
mated at  19,000.  Founded  in  1817,  and  named  after 
General  Richard  Montgomery  (173G-75),  the  town  of  Jlout- 
gomery  became  in  1847  tha  seat  of  the  State  Gove  nment 
instead  of  Tuscaloosa.  From  February  1861  to  May  18G2 
it  was  the  capital  of  the  Southern  Confederation.  In  1S65 
it  was  seized  by  the  Federal  forces  under  General  ^Tilson. 

MONTGOMERY,  Alexandee,  whoso  life  fell  between 
1550  and  1610,  was  the  last  of  the  series  of  Scottish  poets 
who  flourished  in  the  16th  century  under  the  patronage  of 
the  Jameses.  With  the  union  of  the  crowns,  and  the 
transference  of  James  ^^.  from  Edinburgh  to  London, 
court  favour  was  withdra^vn  from  Lowland  Scotch ;  it 
practically  ceased  to  be  a  literary  language,  and  no  poetry 
of  mark  was  written  in  the  dialect,  if  we  except  that  of 
Allan  Ramsay's  school,  tUl  it  reappeared  in  literature  as 
the  instrument  of  the  Ayrshire  peasant.  By  a  curious 
coincidence,  Montgomery  seems  to  have  been,  like  Burns,  a 
native  of  Ayrshire.  A  commendatory  sonnet  from  his 
pen,  extravagantly  nattermg,  as  was  the  custom  of  the 
time,  was  printed  with  ICing  James's  Essays  of  a  rnnUce 
in  1584  ;  he  received  a  pension  from  the  crown  a  few 
years  later,  fell  into  disgrace  apparently  for  a  time,  ■was 
reinstated  in  favour,  and  accompanied  his  patron  to  Eng- 
land. As  might  be  cxi^ectfd  from  the  poet  of  a  coiirt 
where  the  king  himself  was  a  keen  critic,  Jlontgomery's 
miscellaneous  poems  show  a  carefid  attention  to  form  ;  he 
tried  many  metrical  experiments,  and  managed  many 
complicated  staves  with  skill.  The  sonnet  form,  .at  that 
tln-.e  a  leading  fashion  in  English  verse,  was  also  cultivated 
at  the  Scottish  court,  and  Jlontgomery's  sonnets  possess 
conisidorable  merit.  His  most  successful  poem,  published 
in  1597,  and  frequently  reprinted  in  Scotland,  was  the 
ullcgoiT  of  The  Cherry  and  the  Slae.  The  poet,  smitten 
by  Cupid,  conceives  a  longing  for  some  cherries,  beautiful 
fruit,  but  growing  high  up  on  a  steep  and  dangerous  bank, 
fibove  a  roaring  waterfall.  Shall  he  climb  and  win  ? 
Hope  and  courage  and  will  urge  him  to  try ;  dread  and 
danger  and  despair  counsel  him  to  bo  content  with  the 
humbler  fruit  of  the  sloe,  which  grows  within  easy  reach. 
Experience,  reason,  wit,  and  slcill  debate  the  question. 
In  the  end  he  resolves  to  venture  for  the  cherry,  with  the  i 
active  help  of  these  last-named  powers.  The  conflicting 
counsels  of  the  poet's  advisers  are  very  pithily  expressed  in 
proverbs  for  and  against  the  adventurous  enterprise,  and  the 
description  of  the  situation  is  strong  and  vivid.  Mont- 
gomery  was   no    unworthy  successor   to   Henryson    and 


Dunbar  in  executive  finish,  but  the  want  of  originality  in 
his  poems  shows  that  the  old  impulse  was  nearly  ex- 
hausted. There  are  traces  of  Italian  influence  in  his 
sonnets  and  love  songs,  but  it  was  much  less  powerful 
with  him  than  ^vith  his  English  contemporaries. 

MONTGOMERY,  James  (1771-1854),  poet  and  jour- 
nalist, was  justly  described  by  Lord  Byron,  in  a  footnote 
to  English  Bards  and  Scotch  Revifwers,  as  "a  man  of  con- 
siderable genius,"  though  it  was  going  far  beyond  the  mark 
to  speak  of  his  Wanderer  of  Svjilzerkcnd  (his  first  notable 
poem,  published  in  180G)  as  being  worth  a  thouscnd 
"  Lyrical  Ballads."  Montgomery  was  born  4th  Xovtm- 
ber  1771,  at  Irvine  in  Ayrshire,  Scotland.  Part  of  his  boy- 
hood was  spent  in  Ireland,  but  ho  received  his  education 
in  Yorkshire,  at  the  Moravian  school  of  Fulneck,  named 
after  the  original  home  of  the  iloravians,  to  which  sect  his 
father  belonged.  He  drifted  at  an  early  age  into  journaUsm, 
and  edited  the  Sheffield  Iris  for  more  than  thirty  years. 
When  he  began  his  career  the  position  of  a  Dissenting  jour- 
n-aUst  was  a  difficult  one,  and  he  twice  suffered  imprisonment 
(in  1795  and  1796)on  charges  that  now  seemabsurdlyforced 
and  unfair.  His  Wanderer  was  mercilessly  ridiculed  by  the 
Edinburgh  Review,  but  in  spite  of  this  Montgomery  pub- 
lished many  poems,  which  had  a  wide  popularity  ; — The 
West  Indies,  1810;  The  World  Before  the  Flood,  1812; 
Greenland,  1819;  Songs  ofZion,  1822  ;  Tlie  Pelican  Island, 
1827.  On  account  of  the  religious  character  of  his  poetry, 
he  is  sometimes  confounded  with  Pu)bcrt  Montgomery,  very 
much  to  the  injustice  of  his  reputation  The  inspiring  force 
of  James  Montgomery's  poetry  was  the  humanitarian  senti- 
ment which  has  been  such  a  power  in  the  political  chan;jc3 
of  this  century,  and  the  pulse  of  this  sentiment  is  nowhcro 
felt  beating  more  strongly  than  in  his  verse.  His  poe'.:-y 
has  thus  an  historical  interest  altogether  apart  froni  irs 
intrinsic  value  as  poetry.  But  this  value  is  far  from  ct  ii- 
temptible  or  commonplace.  Stiictly  speaking,  Montgomc ;  y 
was  more  of  a  rhetorician  than  a  poet,  but  his  imaginati'  a 
was  bold,  ardent,  and  fertile,  and  more  than  one  of  his  greater 
contemporaries  owed  occasional  debts  to  his  vigorous  inven- 
tion and  even  to  his  casual  felicities  of  diction,  while  soce 
passages  from  his  poems  keep  a  place  in  the  literature  that 
is  imiversally  read  and'quoted.  ■  At  the  close  of  his  cai'err 
as  a  journalist,  when  all  parties  agreed  in  pajnng  him 
respect,  he  claimed  for  his  poetry  that  it  was  at  len.st  not 
imitative,  and  the  claim  was  just  as  regarded  conception 
and  choice  of  subjects;  but  as  regards  diction  and  imagery 
the  influence  of  Campbell  is  very  apparent  in  his  earliev 
poems,  and  the  influence  of  Shelley  is  supreme  in  tlie 
Pelican  Island,  liis  last  and  best  work  as  a  poet.  Bis 
Lectures  on,  Poetry  and  General  Literature,  published  in 
1S33,  show  considerable  breadth  of  sjnnpathy  and  power 
of  expression.  Memoirs  of  him  were  published  in  seven 
volumes  in  1856-8.  They  furnish  valuable  materials  for 
the  history  of  English  provincial  politics  in  the  19th 
century.     He  died  at  Sheflield  30th  April  1854. 

MONTGOMERY,  Robert  (1 807-1855),  author  of  The 
Omnipresence  of  tlie  Deity  (1828),  Satan  (1830),  and  Tut 
Messiah  (1832),  was  the  Montgomery  ridiculed  and  de- 
nounced in  Macaulay's  famous  essay.  As  a  poet,  he  deserved 
every  word  of  Macaulay's  severe  censure ;  the  marks  of 
intellectual  feebleness  —  tautologous  epithets,  absurdly 
mi^ed  metaphors,  and  inapt  lines  introduced  for  the  sake 
of  rhyme — are  visible  in  every  page  of  his  versification. 
It  should  bo  mentioned  that  MacaiJay's  "  trouncing  "  did 
not  diminish  the  sale  of  his  so-called  poems ;  one  of  the 
works  expressly  ridiculed  reached  its  28th  edition  in  IS5S. 
His  real  name  is  said  to  have  been  Gomery. 

MONTH.  See  Astronomy,  vol.  ii.  p.  800,  and 
Cale-vdah. 

MOXTILLA,  a  small  and  unimportant  city  of  Spain  in 


M  0  N  — M  O  N 


791 


fjie  province  of  Cordova,  32  miles  to  the  south  of  the  city 
of  Cordova,  on  the  Malaga  railway,  is  strikiDgly  situated  on 
two  hills  which  command  a  bsautiful  and  extensive  prospect 
of  the  surrounding  country.  The  manufactures  (princi- 
pally weaving)  are  xxnimportant,  and  the  trade  of  the  place 
is  chiefly  in  agricultural  produce.  The  oil  of  the  surround- 
ing district  is  abundant  and  good ;  and  it  is  the  peculiar 
flavour  of  the  pala  dry  light  wine  of  Montilla  that  gives 
its  name  to  the  sherry  known  as  Amontillado.  The  popu" 
ktion  in  1878  was  13,207.  McntiUa  was  the  birthplace 
Off  "  The  Great  Captain,"  and  stiU  shows  the  ruins  of  the 
castle  of  his  father,  Don  Pedro  Fernandez  de  Cordova. 

MONTLUG,  BL.iisE  de  La3sekan-Massenc6me,  Seiq- 
NETTR  DE  (c.  1503-1577),  marshal  of  France,  was  bom 
about  1503,  at  the  family  seat  near  Condom  in  the 
modern  department  of  Gers.  He  was  the  eldest  son,  and 
his  family  was  a  good  one,  but  it  was  large  and  poor,  and, 
like  most  gentlemen  of  Oascony,  he  had  to  trust  for  endow- 
ment to  his  sword.  He  served  first  as  a  private  archer  and 
man-at-arms  in  Italy,  with  Bayard  for  his  captain,  fought 
all  through  the  wars  of  Francis  I.,  and  was  knighted  on 
the  field  of  C^risoles  (1538).  Having  apparently  enjoyed 
no  patronage,  he  was  by  this  time  a  man  of  middle  age. 
Thenceforward,  however,  his  merits  were  recognized  by  his 
appointment  to  various  important  posts.  His  chief  feat  was 
the  famous  defence  of  Siena  (1555),  which  he  has  told  so 
ailmirably.  When  the  religious  wars  broke  out  in  France, 
Moctluc,  a  staunch  royalist,  held  Guienne  for  the  king, 
a:id  exercised  severe  but  impartial  justice  on  Catholics  and 
Trotestants  alike.  He  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  the 
Massacre  of  St  Bartholomew.  Hem-y  III.,  however,  made 
hiai  marshal  of  France,  an  honour  which  he  had  earned  by 
nearly  half  a  century  of  service  and  by  numerous  wounds. 
He  died  at  Estillac  near  Agen  in  1 577.  Montluc's  eminence 
above  other  soldiers  of  fortune  in  his  day  is  due  to  his 
Commentairea  (Bordeaux,  1592),  in  which  he  described  his 
fifty  years  of  ser\-ice.  This  book,  the  "  soldier's  Bible"  (or 
"  breviary,"  according  to  others),  as  Henry  IV.  called  it,  is 
one  of  the  most  admirable  of  the  many  admirable  books  of 
memoirs  produced  by  the  unlearned  gentry  of  France  at  that 
time.  It  is  said  to  have  been  dictated,  which  may  possibly 
account  in  some  degree  for  the  singular  vivacity  and 
picturesqueness  of  the  style.  Hardly  any  author  excels 
Montluo  in  the  clearness  with  which  he  brings  military 
ojicrations  before  the  reader.  As  with  most  of  his  con- 
temporaries, his  work  is  didactic  in  purpose,  and  he  often 
pauses  to  draw  morals  for  the  benefit  of  young  commanders, 
but  never  tediously.  The  eloquence  displayed  in  some  of 
the  speeches  is  remarkable.  These  Commentaires  are  to  be 
found  conveniently  in  the  collection  of  Michaud  and 
Poujoulat,  but  the  standard  edition  is  that  of  the  Societi 
de  VHistoire  de  France,  edited  by  M.  de  Ruble  (5  vols. 
1865-72). 

MOXTLUCON',  the  industrial  capital  of  the  centre  of 
Franco,  sometimes  called  the  French  Manchester,  is  the 
head  of  an  arrondiisement,  and  the  largest  to^-n  (26,079 
inhabitants  in  1881)  of  the  department  of  Allier.  The 
upper  town  consists  of  steep,  narrow,  winding  streets,  and 
preserves  several  buildings  of  the  15th  and  16th  centuries  ; 
the  lower  toi^Ti,  traversed  by  the  river  Cher  (there  converted 
into  a  canal  communicating  with  that  along  the  Loire),  is 
the  seat  of  the  manufacturing  industries,  which  embrace 
glass,  steel,  and  n-on  works,  lime-kilns,  saw-mills,  and  a 
wool-spinning  factory  The  Commentiy  coal-mines  are 
ordy  a  few  imles  distant.  There  is  railway  connexion  with 
Mouliiis  (50  miles  to  the  east-north-east),  Bourges,  Limoges, 
and  Clermont-Ferrand,  and  a  new  Une  ia  about  to  be  opened 
to  Tours  via  Chateaurou.x.  Of  the  churches,  Notre  Dame 
is  of  the  15th  century,  St  Pierre  partly  of  the  12th,  and  St 
Paul  modem.     The  town-hall,  with  a  library,  occupies  the 


sue  of  an  old  Ursuline  convent,  and  two  other  con'  ents  now 
serve  as  college  and  hospital. 

Montlujon,  wbiuli  eiiisted  as  early  as  the  10th  century,  was  taten 
by  the  English  in  1171  and  by  Philippe  Auguste  in  1181 ;  the  EngUsli 
were  beaten  under  its  walls  in  the  1 4th  century.  The  castlo,  rebuilt 
by  Louis  II.,  duke  of  Bourbon,  was  taken  by  Henry  IV.  during  the 
religious  wars ;  at  present  it  is  occupied  as  a  barracks. 

MONTMORENCY,  the  name  of  one  of  the  oldest  and 
most  distinguished  families  in  France,  is  derived  from 
Montmorency,  now  in  the  department  of  Seine-et-Oise,  Jn 
the  immediate  neighbourhood  of  Enghien  and  St  Denis, 
and  about  9  miles  to  the  north-north-west  of  Paris.  The 
family,  since  its  first  appearance  in  history  in  the  person  of 
BoxJCHAED  or  BcECH-iRD  I.,  sire  de  Montmorency  in  the  10th 
century,  has  furnished  six  constables  and  twelve  marshals 
of  France,  several  admirals  and  cardinals,  numerous  grand 
oflScers  of  the  crown  and  gi-and  masters  of  various  knightly 
orders,  and  was  declared  by  Henry  TV.  to  be,  after  that  of 
the  Bourbons,  the  first  house  in  Europe.  Matthieu  I.,  sire 
de  Montmorency,  received  in  1 1 38  the  post  of  constable,  and 
died  in  1 1 60.  •  His  first  wife  was  Aline,  the  natural  daughter 
of  Henry  I.  of  England  ;  his  second,  Adelaide  or  Alice  of 
Savoy,  widow  of  Louis  VI.  and  mother  of  Louis  VII. 
According  to  Duchesne,  he  shared  the  regency  of  France 
with  Suger,  during  the  absence  of  the  latter  king  on  the 
second  crusade.  Matthieu  II.  had  an  important  share 
in  the  victory  of  Bouvines  (1214),  and  was  made  grand 
constable  in  1218.  Durioig  the  reign  of  Louis  YIII. 
(1223-1226)  he  distinguished  himself  chiefly  in  the  south 
of  France  (Niort,  Rochelle,  Bordeaux).  On  the  accession 
of  Louis  IX.  he  was  one  of  the  chief  supports  of  the  queen- 
regent  Blanche  of  Castile,  and  was  successfid  in  reducing 
all  the  vassals  to  obedience.  He  died  in  1 230.  His  younger 
son,  Guy,  in  right  of  his  mother,  became  head  of  the  house  of 
Montmorency-Laval.  Anne  do  Montmorency  (1-193-1567), 
so  named,  it  is  said,  after  his  godmother  Anne  of  Brittany, 
was  the  first  to  attain  the  ducal  title.  He  was  bom  at 
Chantilly  in  1493,  and  was  brought  up  with  the  dauphin, 
afterwards  Francis  I.,  whom  he  followed  into  Italy  in  1515, 
distinguishing  himself  especially  at  Mariguano.  In  1516 
he  became  governor  of  Novara ;  in  1520  he  was  present  at 
the  Field  of  Cloth  of  Gold,  and  afterwards  had  charge  of 
important  negotiations  in  England.  Successful  in  the 
defence  of  Meziferes  (1521),  and  as  commander  of  the  Swiss 
troops  in  the  ItaHaa  campaign  of  the  same  year,  he  was 
made  marshal  of  France  in  1522,  accompanied  Francis  into 
Italy  in  1524,  and  was  taken  prisoner  at  Pavia  in  1525, 
Released  soon  afterwards,  he  was  one  of  the  negotiators  of 
the  treaty  of  Madrid,  and  in  1530  reconducted  the  king's 
sons  into  France.  On  the  renewal  of  the  war  by  Charles 
V.'s  invasion  of  France  in  1536,  Montmorency  compelled 
the  emperor  to  raise  the  siege  of  Marseilles ;  he  afterwards 
accompanied  the  king  of  France  into  Picardy,  and  on  the 
termination  of  the  Netherlands  campaign  marched  to  the 
relief  of  Turin.  In  1538,  on  the  ratification  of  the  ten 
years'  truce,  he  was  rewarded  with  the  office  of  constable, 
but  in  1511  he  fell  into  disgrace,  and  did  not  return  to 
public  life  until  the  accession  of  Henry  II.  in  1547.  In 
1548  he  repressed  the  insurrections  in  the  south-west, 
particularly  at  Bordeaux,  with  great  severity,  and  in  1549- 
1550  conducted  the  war  in  the  Boulonnais,  negotiating  the 
treaty  for  the  surrender  of  Boulogne  on  24th  March  1550; 
In  1551  his  barony  was  erected  into  a  duchy.  Soon  after- 
wards his  armies  found  emplojnaent  in  the  north-east  in 
connexion  with  the  seizure  of  Metz,  Tou),  and  Verdiuj  by 
the  French  king.  His  attempt  to  relieve  St  Quentin  issued 
in  his  defeat  and  captivity  (10th  August  1557),  and  he  did 
not  regain  his  liberty  until  the  peace  of  Cateau-Cambr^sis 
in  1559.  Supplanted  in  the  interval  by  the  Guises,  he  yn.i 
treated  with  coldness  by  the  new  king,  Francis  II.,  and 
compelled  to  give  up  bis  mastership  of  the  royal  house- 


792 


MO  N  — Ai  O  N 


liold, — hia  son,  however,  being  appointed  ma^^■.]lal  by  vr,\y 
of  indemnity.  On  the  accession  of  Charles  IX.  in  K'GO 
he  resumed  his  offices  and  dignities,  and,  uniting  with  hh 
former  enemies,  tlie  Guises,  played  an  important  port  in  t!:e 
Huguenot  war  of  1562.  Though  the  arms  of  hia  party 
were  victorious  at  Dreux,  he  himself  fell  into  the  hands 
of  the  enemy,  and  was  not  liberated  until  the  treaty  of 
Amboise  (19th  March  1563).  In  1567  he  again  triumpbrd 
at  St  Denis,  but  received  the  death-bfow  of  which  he  died 
3oon  afterwards  at  Paris.  His  eldest  son,  FRAJi90isE  do 
Montmorency  (1530-1579),  was  married  to  Diana,  natural 
daughter  of  Henry  11. ;  another  son,  Henp.i  I.  da  Mont- 
morency (153-1-1614),  was  constable  of  France  from  1593. 
Henky  n.  (1595-1632),  son  of  duke  Henry  I.,  succeeded  to 
the  title  in  161-1,  having  previously  been  i-aised  by  Louis 
Xin.  to  the  office  of  grand  admiral.  In  1625  he  defeated 
the  French  Protestant  fleet  under  Soubise,  and  seized  the 
iilatids  of  Rh6  and  Oleron,  but  the  jealousy  of  Bichelieu 
deprived  him  of  the  means  of  following  up  these  advantages. 
In  1628-1629  he  was  allowed  to  command  against  the  duke 
of  Eohan  in  Lauguedoc ;  in  .1630  he  defeated  the  piedmon- 
tese,  and  captured  Prince  Doria,  at  Avigliana,  and  took 
Saluces.  In  the  same  year  he  was  created  marshal.  In  1632 
he  joined  the  party  of  Gaston,  duke  of  Orleans,  and  placed 
himself  at  the  head  of  the  rebel  army,  which  was  defeated 
by  Mar.shal  Schomberg  at  Castekiaudary  (1st  September 
1632);  severely  wounded,  he  fell  into  the  enemy's  hands, 
and,  abandoned  by  Gaston,  was  executed  as  a  traitor  at 
Toulouse  on  30th  October.  The  title  passed  to  his  sister 
OnASLOTTE-MAKGtjEEirE,  princess  of  Cond6. 

MO>f  TOKO,  a  town  of  Spain,  in  the  province  of  Cordova, 
27  miles  to  the  north-north-east  of  that  city,  on  the  Madrid 
"■nilway,  stands  on  a  rocky  peninsula  on  the  south  bank  of 
he  Guadalquivir,  here  crossed  by  a  fine  bridge  of  four  arohes 
dating  from  the  16th  century.  Its  most  conspicuous  build- 
ing is  a  hospital,  said  to  bo  one  of  the  best  in  Andalucia. 
The  most  important  article  of  commerce  is  the  oil  of  the 
surrounding  district.  The  population  of  tho  ayuntaniiento 
was  13,293  in  1878. 

MONTPELIER,  a  town  of  the  United  States,  the  capital 
of  Vermont  (since  1 805),  and  the  county  seat  of  Washington 
county  (since  1811),  is  situated  in  41°  17'  N.  lat.  and  72° 
Sty  W.  long.,  on  the  Winooski  or  Onion  river,  which  faUs 
into  Lake  Champlain.  It  has  a  station  on  the  Central 
Vermont  Raih-oad,  and  is  the  western  terminus  of  the 
Montpelier  and  Wells  River  and  the  Montpelier  and  White 
River  Railroads.  The  State-house,  in  the  form  of  a  Greek 
cross  with  a  dome  and  Doric  portico,  was  erected  at  a  cost 
of  §150,000,  to  replace  the  structure  burned  down  in  1857. 
Under  the  portico  stands  a  marble  statue  (by  Larkin  G. 
Mead)  of  Ethan  Allen  (1737-1789),  tho  hero  "of  Vermont, 
Tho  State  library  contains  20,000  volumes.  From  2411 
in  1860  tho  population  had  increased  to  3219  in  1880. 

JIONTPELLIER,  chief  town  of  the  department  of 
Hijrault,  Franco,  is  situated  at  the  junction  of  several 
railway  lines,  on  a  small  hill  rising  above  the  Lez,  at  its 
confluence  mih  the  Merdanson,  about  480  miles  south  of 
Paris,  and  about  7  miles  from  tho  McditeiTanean,  from 
which  it  is  sejiaratcd  by  tho  lagoons  of  Pfirols  and  I'Aruel. 
As  the  headquarters  of  tho  16th  corps  d'armuo,  as  the  seat 
of  a  bishop,  of  a  university,  and  of  a  court  of  appeal, 
Montpellier  is  tho  principal  place  of  lower  Lauguedoc.  Tlie 
Place  du  Peyrou,  575  feet  in  length  by  410  in  breadth, 
one  of  the  finest  squai'cs  in  Franco,  occupies  the  highest 
part  cf  the  town,  and  terminates  in  a  terrace,  commanding 
a  magnificent  view  of  tho  coasts  of  tho  Mediterranean,  and 
of  a  wide  stretch  of  country  reaching  to  the  Cevenncs  on 
'tho  north,  to  the  spiirs  of  t!;a  Pyrenees  on  tho  south-west, 
and  to  those  of  the  Alps  on  tlio  north-cast.  On  the  terrace 
is  situated  the  reservoir  of  tho  tov;'n,  the  water  being 


brou:;ht  from  a  d;-.t'''ncj  of  5  ov  6  niil-;'!  by  an  aqijeduct 
of  two  tiers  of  arch.s,  a'oout  70  icct  in  height.  In  the 
centre  cf  the  square  is  an  equestrian  statue  of  Louis  XTV. 
To  the  right  and  left  aro  promenades,  on  which  the  chief 
boulevards  converge.  The  Boulevard  Ilenri  FV.  to  the 
north  leads  to  the  botanical  garden,  medical  follege,  and 
cathedral ;  to  the  east  the  Rue  Nationale  leads  to  the 
palace  of  justice,  the  prefecture,  and  the  citadel  The  cathe- 
dral, which  imtil  1536  Svas  the  church  of  .a  Benedictine 
monastei-y,  suffered  severely  during  the  religious  wars,  but 
about  thirty  years  ago  it  was  restored  in  the  style  of  tho 
13th  century.  It  has  four  towers,  and  is  one  of  the  largest 
churches  in  southern  France,  being  more  than  300  feet  in 
length,  92  in  breadth,  and  88  in  height.  The  monastery, 
after  being  converted  into  the  bishop's  palace,  has  since 
1795  bemg  occupied  by  the  famous  medical  school.  The 
portrait  of  Rabelais  hangs  in  the  gallery  of  former  profe,-:sors. 
Connected  vath  the  medical  school  is  an  anatomical  museum 
and  a  rich  library.  Montpellier  also  possesses  a  faculty 
of  science,  with  several  fins  collections,  a  faculty  of  letters, 
a  higher  school  of  pharmacy,  an  agricultural  college,  and 
a  sericultural  institute.  The  museum  contains  more  than 
600  paintings,  in  addition  to  collections  of  marbles,  bronzes, 
and  antiquities.  The  botanical  garden,  more  than  10  acres 
in  extent,  is  the  oldest  in  France,  having  been  laid  out 
in  1593.  The  esplanade,  ornamented  by  fine  old  trees 
planted  by  the  due  de  Roquelaure,  fomicrly  governor 
of  Languedoc,  leads  towards  the  citadel.  Tlie  inner  city  has 
nan-ow  and  tortuous  streets,  but  many  good  houses.  Among 
the  pnbHc  buildings,  the  principal  are  the  p.ila-co  of  justice 
— a  modern  structure,  the  fa(;ade  adorned  %i ith  statues  of 
the  statesman  Cambacer^s  and  of  Cardinal  Fleury— the 
barracks,  several  hospitals,  the  juvenile  seminary,  and  the 
central  prison  for  females.  There  are  several  ler.raed 
societies,  including  an  academy  of  Science  and  letters,  an 
antiquarian  society,  several  medical  societies,  and  others 
for  various  separate  branches  of  study,  including  the 
dialect  of  Languedoc.  The  Lez  has  been  deepened  and 
widened  so  as  to  connect  Montpellier  with  the  Canal  du 
Midi  and  with  the  sea  at  Palavas.  The  town  has 
a  considerable  trade  in  wine  and  brandy.  The  principal 
industrial  estabhshment  is  a  manufactory  for  wax-tapers, 
candles,  and  soap,  doing  business  to  the  amount  of  X400,000 
per  annum.  There  are  also  chemical  works,  cooperages, 
distilleries,  &c.     The  population-in  1881  was  56,005. 

Jlontpellier  first  rose  Into  importance  after  the  destruction  of 
M.iguelone  by  Charles  llartel  in  737.  Its  prosperity  dates  fiom 
tlie  beginning  of  the  ]2th  centiu-y,  -when  ils  tcliool  of  medicine 
(see  vol.  XV.  p.  S07)  first  began  to  acquire  fame.  It  lifld  a  school 
of  law  in  1160,  and  a  university  was  founded  by  Pope  Nicholas  IV. 
in  1292.  St  Louis  (Louis  IX.)  granted  to  the  town  the  right  of 
free  trade  with  the  whole  of  tho  kingdom,  a  privilege  which  greatly 
increased  its  prosperity,  in  1201  llontpeUier  became  a  depend-oncy 
of  tliQ  house  of  Aragon,  through  raarriaj^o,  and  in  1350-it  was  sold 
to  Philip  of  Valois.  In  the  time  of  Charles  VIII.  it  is  said  to  have 
had  35,000  hearths.  It  took  tho  place  of  the  bishopric  of  Jlague- 
loue  in  1536.  At  tho  time  of  th..  Reformation  it  became  one  of 
the  most  important  centres  of  Protestantism,  but  was  taken  by 
Louis  XIII.,  who  erected  tho  citadel  commanding  the  towTi. 
Several  years  afterwards  Jlontpellier  was  partly  depopulated  by 
tho  plaguo.  Of  the  old  fortifieations  little  now  remains  save  the 
gate  of  Peyrou,  a  triumphal  arch  of  date  1712,  ojuposita  the  place 
of  tlie  same  name. 

Set?  Gt-rmnin,  Hisl-'ire  du  cmnmerce  d«  MontpfV.icr  anflHfur.-mtnt  i  Toupfrivre 
rfu  part  rfs  Ct'.le  p  vols.,  1801),  and  Htstoin  'tela  <xmm\ir.c  dc  ilontpcllicrlSm^a., 
1651) ;  Aisrcfouille,  JlUU/iro  de  la  villi  dt  ilonti,:!Uer  (ISTV). 

MO>rTPENSIER,  Anne  MAitra  Louise  d'OelSams, 
DuciressE  DE  (162'7-1693),  one  of  the  most  remarkable 
names  ou  the  somewhat  arbitrary  list  of  royal  and  noble 
authors,  was  born  at  the  Louvrel  on  29th  May  1627.  Her 
father  was  Gaston  of  Orleans,  "Monsieur,"  tho  brother  of 
Louis  XIII.,  celebrated  for  the  jnvaiiable  ill  fate  which 
attended  his  favourites  and  partisans.  Her  mother  was 
Marie  de  Bourbon,  hoiv,--^  r-f  tho  Montpensicr  family.    Being 


M  0  N  — xM  O  N 


793 


thus  of  tlie  .blood-royal  of  I'rance  on  both  sides,  and  an 
heiress  to  immense  property,  she  appeared  to  be  very  c^.rly 
destined  to  a  splendid  marriage.  It  was  perhaps  the  greatest 
misfortune  of  her  life  that  "  Slademoiselle  "  (as  her  courtesy 
title  went)  was  encouraged  or  thought  herself  encouraged 
to  look  forward  to  the  tlirone  of  France  as  t'la  result  of  a 
aiarriage  with  Louis  XIV.,  who  was,  however,  eleven  years 
hor  junior.  Ill-luck,  or  her  own  wilfulness,  frustrated 
numerous  plans  for  marrying  her  to  various  persons  of  more 
or  less  exalted  station,  including  Charles  II.  of  England, 
tlisn  Prince  of  Wales.  She  was  just  of  age  when  the  Fronde 
broke  out,  and,  attributing  as  she  did  her  disappointments 
to  Mazarin,  she  sympathized  with  it  not  a  little.  It  was 
not,  however,  till  the  new  or  second  Fronde  that  she  dis- 
i>!a,yed  in  a  very  curious  fashion  a  temper  and  courage  as 
raasculine  and  adventurous  as  those  of  her  father  Gaston 
h:\d  alv.'ay3  been  effeminate  and  timid.  She  not  only  took 
r.'j.iiinal  command  of  one  of  the  aimies  on  the  princes' 
.'iUo,  but  she  literally  and  in  her  own  person  took  Orleans 
by  escalade,  crossing  the  river,  breaking  a  gate,  and  mount- 
ing the  walls  with  the  applause  of  the  populace  of  the  city, 
but  in  face  of  the  refusal  of  the  authorities  to  admit  her. 
Ko  good  result,  however,  came  to  her  party  from  this 
extraordinary  act,  and  she  had  to  retreat  to  Paris,  where 
■  she  practically  commanded  the  Bastille  and  the  adjoining 
part  of  the  walls.  On  the  2d  of  July  (16.52)  tho  battle 
of  iho  Faubourg  Saint  Antoine,  between  the  Frondeurs 
under  CondiS  and  the  royal  troops  under  Turenne,  took 
place,  and  the  former,  being  beaten,  found  themselves  in 
an  awkward  situation,  between  their  conquerors  and  the 
walls  of  a  city,  which,  though  not  exactly  hostile  to  them, 
was  not  nomiually  on  their  side,  and  had  closed  its  gates 
against  them.  Mademoiselle  saved  them  by  giving  orders 
not  merely  for  the  gatos  under  her  control  to  be  opened 
but  for  the  cannon  of  the  Bastille  to  fire  on  tho  royalists, 
v/liich  was  done.  Her  o_wn  residence  (and  indeed  her  pro- 
))t;rty)  was  the  Luxembourg,  and  hero  she  found  herself 
<luring  the  riots  which  follo^^■ed  the  battle ;  but  in  the 
heat  of  the  cmeute  she  installed  herself  in  the  hotel  de 
villc,  and  pla}  ed  the  part  of  mediatrix  between  the  opposed 
parties.  Her  political  importance  lasted  exactly  six  months, 
ind  did  her  little  good,  for  it  created  a  lifelong  prejudice 
agninst  her  in  the  mind  of  her  cousin,  Louis  XIV.,  who 
never  forgave  opposition  to  his  sovereign  power.  Nor 
h.id  she  any  support  to  look  for  from  her  pusillanimous 
father,  who  hastened  to  make  terras  for  himself, — a  matter 
tlie  less  difficult  that  his  known  faithlessness  had  pre- 
vented tho  chiefs  of  the  Fronde  from  engaging  him  at 
all  deeply  in  their  schemes.  Mademoiselle,  on  the  other 
hand,  was  for  some  years  in  disgrace,  and  resided  on  her 
estates.  It  was  not  tiU  1657  that  she  reappeared  at 
court,  but,  though  projects  for  marrying  her  were  once 
more  set  on  foot,  she  was  now  past  her  first  youth.  Her 
incurable  self-will,  moreover,  still  stood  in  licr  way,  and 
suitor  after  suitor  was  rejected  for  reasons  good  or  bad. 
She  was  nearly  forty,  and  had  already  corresponded 
seriously  with  Madame  de  Motteville  on  tho  project  of 
o.st-ablishing  a  ladies'  society  "  sans  mariage  et  sans  amour," 
when  a  young  Gascon  gentleman  named  Puyguilhera, 
afterwards  celebrated  as  M.  de  Lauzun,  attracted  her  atten- 
tion. It  was  some  years  before  the  affair  came  to  a  crisis, 
but  at-lxst,  in  1670,  Mademoiselle  solemnly  demanded  the 
king's  perinis-sion  to  maiTy  Lajiizun.  Jladame  de  Sevigne's 
letter  on  tliis  occasion  is  one  of  .the  most  famous  of  her 
c^lection.  Louis,  who  liked  Lauzun,  and  who  had  ocon 
educated  by  JIazarin  in  the  idea  that  Madtmoiseile  ought 
not  to  be  allowed  to  carry  her  vast  estates  and  royal  blood 
to  any  one  who  was  himself  of  the  blood-royal,  or  even  to 
any  foreign  prince,  gave  his  consent,  but  it  was  not  inmio- 
diately  acted  on.     The  pride  of  the  other  members  of  the 


royal  family,  and  the  '.snit,3  o;  the  king's  brother,  Monsieur, 
who  had,  after  the  death  of  Henrietta  of  EngUnd,  made 
offers  to  his  cousin,  prevailed  with  Louis  to  rescind  hia 
permission.  Not  long  afterwards  Lauzun,  for  another 
cause,  was  imprisoned  in  Pignerol,  and  it  v^as  years  before 
Mademoiselle  was  able  to  buy  his  release  from  tlie  king  by 
settling  no  small  portion  of  her  estates  on  Louis's  bastards. 
The  elderly  lovers  (for  in  1681,  when  Lauzun  was  roieased, 
he  was  nearly  fifty,  and  Mailefnoiselle  was  fifty-four)  were 
then  secretly  married,  if  indeed  they  had  not  gone  through 
the  ceremony  ten  years  pre^dously.  But  Lauzun,  a  coarse 
and  brutal  adventurer,  tyrannized  over  his  ■n-ife,  and  her 
spirit,  which  was  yet  unbroken,  at  length  got  the  better  of  her 
passion.  It  is  said  that  on  one  occasion  he  addressed  her 
thus,  "  Louise  d'Orleans,  tire-moi  mes  bottes,"  and  that  she 
at  once  and  finally  separated  from  him.  She  lived,  how- 
ever, for  some  years  after  he  had  achieved  his  last  adven- 
ture (that  of  assisting  the  family  of  James  IT.  to  escape 
from  England,  and  attempting  to  defend  their  cause  in 
Ireland),  gave  herself  to  reUgious  duties,  and  finished  her 
Memoires,  which  eStend  to  within  seven  years  of  her  death 
(9th  April  1693),  and  which  she  had  begun  when  she  was 
in  disgrace  t'oirty  years  earUer.  These  Memoires  (Amster- 
dam, 1729)  are  of  very  considerable  merit  and  interest, 
though,  or  perhaps  because,  they  are  extremely  egotistical 
and  often  extremely  desultory.  Mademoiselle  \\Tites  with- 
out art,  but  ^vith  tho  hereditary  ability  of  her  family,  and 
the  strongly  personal  view  which  she  takes  of  public  events 
is  rather  an  advantage  than  a  disadvantage.  They  are  to 
be  found  in  the  great  collection  of  Jliohaud  and  Poujoulat, 
and  have  been  frequently  edited  apart.  (o.  SA.) 

MONTREAL,  the  largest  city  in  the  Dominion  of 
Canada,  its  chief  seat  of  commerce  and  principal  port  of 
entry,  is  situated  on  an  island  of  about  30  miles  in  length 
and  7  in  breadth,  at  the  confluence  of  the  rivers  Ottawa 
and  St  Lawrence,  45°  32'  N.  lat.  and  73°  32'  W.  long. 
It  stands  at  the  head  of  ocean  navigation,  160  miles  above 
Quebec,  and  nearly  1000  miles  (9S6)  from  the  Atlantic 
Ocean,  and  lies  at  the  foot  of  the  great  chain  of  river, 
lake,  and  canal  navigation  which  extends  westward  through 
the  great  lakes.  Montreal  is  btult  upon  a  series  of  terraces, 
the  former  levels  of  the  river  or  of  a  more  ancient  sea. 
Behind  those  rises  Mount  Royal,  a  mass  of  trap-rock  thro-mi 
up  through  tho  surrovmding  limestone  strata  to  a  height  of 
700  feet  above  the  level  of  tho  river.  From  this  rock  the 
city  derives  its  name,  though  its  original  founder,  Paul  do 
Chomedey,  sire  de  Maisonneuve,  in  1612,  gave  it  the  name 
of  Ville-Marie,  when  it  was  dedicated  with  religious  enthu- 
siasm, not  as  a  centre  of  commercial  enterprise,  but  as  the 
scat  of  a  mission  which  aimed  specially  at  the  conversion  ^f 
tho  native  Indians.  The  modern  city  of  Montreal  occupies 
an  area  of  about  eight  square  miles, — its  principal  streets 
running  parallel  with  the  river.  On  the  north  side  of  the 
Mountain  the  Trenton  limestone  approaches  the  surface, 
and  is  there  quarried  for  building  puij.oses.  Of  this  giey 
limestone  most  of  the  public  edifices  and  many  of  the  better 
class  of  private  dwellings  are  built.  But  both  brick  and 
Avood  are  largely  used  for  workshops  and  private  houses  of 
a  humbler  class.  The  western  slope  of  the  Moitntain  is 
occupied  by  the  Cote  des  Neiges  (Roman  Catholic)  ceme- 
tery, and  the  Mount  Royal  (Protestant)  cemetery.  The 
upper  portion  of  the  Mountain,  emb-.acing  an  area  of  430 
acres,  is  now  laid  out  as  a  public  park,  with  fine  drives 
shaded  by  well-grown  trees.  From  its  coramandmg  site, 
and  tho  wido  expanse  of  the  valley  of  the  St  La^vrence, 
the  views  on  all  sides  are  of  great  variety  and  beauty. 
A  well-cultivated  and  wooded  country,  watered  by  the 
Ottawa  and  the  St  Lawrence,  stretches  away  on  either 
hand,  being  bounded  on  the  west  by  the  lakes  of  St  Louis 
and  the  Two  Mountains,  and  on  tlie  distant  horizon  by 


794 


oi  engmec,  j,g  sUll  13  a  tubular  iron  brid™  supnorted 
abu STr"  °'  ^°''^— ^7.  -^thlleTmiS 
lenotr    T1,P  r,-        'f™''  .^"^    '"measuring   9184   feet   in 

nour  at   th->   poin^jvL^.e   it   is  tlius  cros  c1     and  the 


MONTREAL 


I    M  GIU  Coll  „c 

S.  Uiristchurcn  Cathedral  (Ei.iocop  ) 

5.  Church  of  the  Gesu  ■"^•'i'.i 
4.  St  Peter's  CathedraL 

6.  Hallway  Stition. 


Plan  0'  Jlonj-oal 


6    Notre  Dame. 

7.  Champ  de  Jlars. 

8.  Court  House. 

9.  City  Hall. 
10.  Bonsccours  Market. 


«rfr.=  !  I A  '°f  'P"''^-  Near  at  hand  the  towers 
spires,  and  domes  of  numerous  churches  and  pubUc  bifid 
mgs  r^se  from  the  general  mass  of  houses.     ThethaTves" 

ihlu        .  Lawence  is  navigable  to  Montreal  bv 

the  largest  ocean^  steamers.  But  immediately  above  thi 
city  the  river  13  impeded  by  a  natunl  dvV^  V,f  *  ! 

limestone  which  he/e  arrest^  the  wa  e  at  the  .  d'^  'f 
forming  the  Lake  St  Louis  at  a  hei'ht  of  44  0.?^' 
the  level  of  Montreal  harbour.     The  rfver  lIL  f  ■? 

-y  through  a  channel  of  .hoJtuTJul^l'Zl^ 
ft  rajndity  of  about  18  miles  an  hour,  formin-  tl^^^tl  V 
or  St  Louis  Rapids.  O.-ing  to  the  imme  fse  voE'of 
vatcr  concentrated  in  a  narrow  channel,  steamerldrwin; 
ten  feet  of  water  are  safely  navigated  do^  the  a  Ms 
but  these  necessarily  present  an  insuperableTarrier  to  tt 

Mrt  of  Ar  ?  ?  °  ^''""^'  '^'""'''  ^°'"'»o.icing  at  the 
^rt  of  Montreal,  passes  round  the  falls  by  a  Series  of 
ocks  in  a  course  of  nine  miles,  to  Lalce  St  lii's,  opposite 
the  Indian  village  of  Caughnawaga.      The  fall  of'^Cer 


factories,  estab!i;shcd  on  i-,  \,'{.-.  ^t  •  T^  °^^" 
also  been  carried  on  heTe  wUh'^  ^j  profif  "(vor^  '!? 
cotton  mills,  silk  factories  a  I->rle  rabW  f!,'  f  "  ^'"^ 

cordage  wo^ks,  boot  and' 'ho^  ^LSs  t  I™ '"T  ""'^ 
organized  on  an   extensive   sea  e      tS  t^l  f"'^ 

Montreal  is  derived  frorthrter  Ibt^  T  cKnd' 
after  passing  along  an  open  canal  5  miles  in  Tet'th  It 

posmg  character  ol mJjTth^l b^UiZ'^'ll!'  m"^"'",-'""^ 
Ihedra  of  St  Peter  Aei{J.,.\  Vl  "■"W"'*?^-  The  Metropohtan 
0  chief  featurefof  St  P^S^s  at  rZ™''""  °"-"  ''l''"'^^^  ^"^l* 

raiih    church    of   Notro-Damp    r.r,    tl,„    m         j,.      "'J-      ■''"' 
oon^odation  for  10.000  wo^s^ip^perf  ^L^^Jellt?  Ch„'"'r'-° 

native  limestone,  but  w?tWhe  .iTiff  ft'-      '"  t^'""?">'  °^  ""^ 

modefof  th;Om.»„  m  °  memory  a  memorial  cross,  after  the 

ant  denomiratiot  tncluda   St  Gcor^.e'^';'  r  '  "t'"  ^"'-'- 
andSt  Paul's  fPresbvterianl    Sf  i  ^    i/''S'i''='"'  ^'  --Andrew's 

tie  Pencfcan  diantp:k?io7''¥l  '"'V"™'','"^  children  "f 

s^iSti^^pSz-ii^SI^^-^i^^^t^: 

PrenchlangiiaVs  andiiterarif,,°!^'P"I'';^  '?  *■>=  English  and 

«  ?epre"?nts      T  et     T"'  ^^  *°  *°^^  "^  ^^'  natio^.l  ti  ,vhi  ' 
Ca.  h^o  1™,  lyla™  s/slr^^^  in  Montreal,  hut  the^Kom^n 

tlio  a;,.L\^^  systematically  discountenanced  the  eti.Te  it,,! 

Ksirar '■'*  '■■*'"'  -'■'  >» "-» •■..  ..iss; 

and  accommodation  is  provided  for  the  AdvV?,l     V-i      ^'""?^  ' 

striking  to  a  atrrngor.^       ^""■'^•'^•^  """^  ^"''"J"^'  f^"  «»"  i»  very 
M'Om  Con' T'i-ljrl'''/;''"?''''''''''  '■"^tihi'i^s  !a  the  nniversitv  of 


and  ultimi  ely  became  one  of  tlie  leading  merchants  in  Montreal 
At  his  death  in  1S13  ho  left  his  iiroperty  for  the  foundin"  of  a  col- 
lege, ihe  most  recent  and  liberal  addition  to  it  is  the  liter  Re,l- 
r,ath  Jluseum,  valued  at  upwards  of  SIOO.OOO,  the  gift  of  a  wealthv 
eitizen.  1  lie  university  embraces  the  faculties  of  arts,  law  anil 
medicine,  and  has  also  a  department  of  practical  science.  The 
college  buildings  stand  in  a  pleasant  park  fronting  on  Sherbrooko 
otrcct,  at  the  base  of  the  Mountain.  Theological  collccs  in  con, 
nection  with  the  Church  of  England,  the  Presbyterian  Methodisf* 
ami  ConOTcgational  Churches,  occupy  buihliugs  in  the  vicinitv,  and 
thoir  students  attend  the  claases  at  Jl'Gill  College  for  secular  instruc- 
tion. The  Seminary  of  St  Sulpice  is  a  theological  training  school 
for  priests,  where  the  larger  portion  of  the  Roman  Catholic  cler^ 
of  the  province  of  Quebec  have  received  their  training,  and  also'ti 
college  where  a  large  number  of  the  French  Canadian  youth  obtnin 
their  e<Iiication.  This  seminary  is  held  in  hii'h  esteem,  and  attra.-ts 
m-nny  Koman  Catholic  students  from  the  United  States  Laval 
Lniv.r^uy,  which  has  its  chief  seat  at  Quebec,  has  also  a  branch 
at  Mon  re,-:l,_with  a  large  staff  of  professors,  chiefly  in  theolo-^- 
hw,  and  mcaicine.  The  Jl'Gill  and  the  Jacques  Cartier  Normal 
Schools  for  ti-ainmg  teachers  for  tno  Protestant  and  Roman  Catholic 
rublio  schools  are  conducted  under  the  Protestant  and  Roman 
Catholic  boards  of  public  instruction  ;  and  model  schools  attached 
to  them  afford  the  requisite  practical  training  for  teachers  The 
nrincinal  public  monuments  are  the  column  erected  in  honour  of 
Lord  Nelson,  and  a  bron/e  statue  of  Queen  Victoria,  by  the  lato 
Marshall  A\  ooil,  which  occui.ics  a  good  site  in  Victoria  Square 

ihe  commerce  of  Jtontreal  is  well  represented  by  the  architec- 
tural character  of  its  banking  establishments  and  many  of  the  laree 
mercantae  houses.  It  is  also  tlie  seat  of  a  large  manufacturing 
industry.  But  the  most  substantial  evidence  of  its  importance  al 
a  commercial  centre  is  its  harbour.  The  solidly-built  basins 
wharves,  quays,  and  canal  locks  extend  for  upwards  of  a  mile  and 
a  half  along  the  nver-side.  In  18-19,  at  a  period  of  depression,  the 
total  value  of  the  imports  and  exports  amounted  to  £2,013  4?8 
sterimg.  In  1SS2  they  had  risen  to  £15,633,657  sterlins.  The 
business  of  the  port  at  the  same  date  is  thus  expressed  in  Canadian 
currency:-totalvalueofoxportsS26,384,312,ofimport3S49,7J9  461- 
customs  duties  collected  estimated  at  88,100,366.  The  number  of 
sca-gomg  vessels  in  port  was  648,  of  which  fullv  oue-half  were  ocean 
steamers,  lu  addition  to  which  the  inland  vessels  ai'rivine  at  the 
Fs°qfi?  n«  «n''  ^"t?"  '^''°  ,"«"'».'<=J  ^•«''>«  "(  real  estate  in  Montreal 
IS  565  978,930.  The  population  m  1851  numbered  57,715  ;  in  1881 
«  00.  '"f?^«'l.t<'.lW,747  of  whom  7S,CS4  were  of  French  and 
23,995  of  Insh  ongm,  and  of  the  whole  number,  103,579  were  Roman 
Catholic. 

The  city  returns  three  members  to  tho  Canadian  House  of 
Quew"^'  ^""'^  number  to  the  luovincial  legislature  of 

When  the  first  French  explorers  landed  on  the  island  of  Montreal 
under  the  leadcrsliip  of  Jacques  Cartier  in  1535,  a  laiOT  Indian 
palisaded  town  existed  a  little  to  the  west  of  Jtount  RoyaT,  and  not 
far  from  the  present  English  cathedral.  To  this  fortified  to«-n  the 
Indians  gave  the  name  of  Hochelaga,  and  Jacques  Cartier  describes 
it  as  surro-^nded  by  helds  of  giain  and  other  evidences  of  a  settled 
native  pcpnlation.  The  name  is  now  applied  to  the  eastern  suburb 
of  the  modern  aty.  Sixty  years  later,  when  Samuel  de  Cbamplain 
Ztll'v  ""J  riP  """  ^,'  ^»"-^™«.  "Od  climbed  to  the  sumnlit  of 
Mount  Royal,  the  populous  native  town  had  disappeared,  and  onlv 
two  Indians  wei-o  found  from  whom  some  obscure  hints  were  derived 
of  war  between  nv.-,l  tribes,  followed  by  the  destruction  of  the  town 
and  the  extermination  or  (light  of  its  former  occupants.  The  enmitv 
tnus  established  between  the  Wyandotts  or  Hurons  of  Canada  and 
tne  Iroquois  settled  in  th.e  valley  of  the  Hudson  and  south  of  Lake 
Ontano  was  perpetuated  throughout  the  whole  period  of  French 
occupation.  Champlain  took  tho  side  of  the  Hurons  while  the 
Iroc^ois  allied  themselves  with  the  Dutch  and  English'  settlers  on 
te  Hudson.  Thus  the  early  histoiy  of  Montreal  is  largely  occupied 
^ith  incidents  of  Indian  warfare.  In  1665  the  marquis  de  Tracy 
^^Idlei,  «°?l  ^!-'">"'.,l'""gi«g,."-itli  him  a  regiment  of  French 
soiclieis,  with  whose  aid  the  Indian  assailants  were  driven  off,  and 
wt'.Tv  .''",'^,S''"'''°'""J  '0  '•'=P'=>  'heir  incureions  ;  thus  pro- 
tected, Montreal  became  the  centre  of  tho  fur  trade  with  the  w'est 
and  en  ered  on  its  history  as  a  commercial  city.  In  1722  it  was 
Dp  Terv",  .,"*,  ^^•i°T','  ™"  ^"'^  <'''<=''•  ""'>"  *1'8  directions  of 
Ti^n  ^•'  e  '"°  "S.''^'  "'"^  "■'="='«''  on  a  '«='«''*  now  laid  out  », 
?f  r^.Tw^iT""-,,-!?"'  •"'''""  of  'i»'^"=  ''y  *''«  English  uude 
MoXa-  ^1„"'\^lT/'?"r'='*  ""  l°"g  I'y'ho  surrender  of 
Monti  eau  Since  that  date  it  has  rapidly  developed  as  an  imnor 
tant  centre  of  commercial  and  manufactuHng  enterprise!     (D?  W  ) 


M  O  K  —  T^i  O  N 


795 


3I0NTE0SE,  a  royal  and  parliamentary  borough  and 
teaport  of  Forfafshirc,  Scotland,  is  situated  on  the  German 
Ocean  at  the  mouth  of  the  South  Esk,  on  a  branch  of  the 
Caledonian  EaUway,  30  miles  east-north-east  of  Dundee 
.-nd  36  south-south-Tvest  of  Aberdeen.     Its  harbour  ba-in' 


formed  by  the  estuary  of  the  South  Esk,  has  an  area  of 
about  4  square  miles,  and  is  dry  at  ebb-tide,  but  at  hi"h 
water  there  is  a  depth  of  about  18  feet  at  the  bar.  The 
length  of  the  quays  and  docks  is  about  1  \  miles.  '  The 
Soiith  Eik  IS  crossed  by  a  suspension  bridge  erected  in 
1S29  at  a  cost  of  £20,000,  and  having  a  length  from  the 
points  of  suspension  of  422  feet  (with  its  approaches  SOO 
feet).  On  the  links  to  the  east  of  the  town  is  one  of  the 
finest  golfing  greens  in  Scotland.  In  the  Ki-h  Street 
which  is  of  considerable  width,  and  contains  several  very 
lofty  houses,  there  are  monuments  to  Sir  Robert  Peel  and  to 
Joseph  Hume,  formerly  member  for  the  Montrose  borou-hs 
ihe  principal  buildings  are  the  parish  church— one  of  the 
largest  churches  in  Scotland— the  town-house,  tlie  infirmanr 
and  the  academy.  There  is  a  public  library  ^vith  19,000 
volumes,  and  a  mechanics'  library  with  7000  volumes 
Besides  the  staple  industry  of  flax-spinning,  there  arc 
manufactures  of  linen,  sail-cloth,  sheetings,  sfarcli,  and 
^"^P-  Iro°-founding,  tanning,  and  brewing  are  also  carri=d 
on.  The  e.xport  trade  is  chiefly  in  manufactured  goods 
agricultural  produce,  and  fish ;  the  principal  imports  are 
timber  and  coal.  In  18S1  the  number  of  ships  that 
entered  coastwise  was  373  of  48,828  tons,  tho  number  that 
cleared  2o0  of  21,877  tons;  the  number  engaged  in  the 

n'o'S"  ^"L'o'"""'' ^^^''^  '"  *^'^  ^'-'""^  year  was-entered 
108  of  34,868  tons,  cleared  42  of  10,359  tons.  Montrose 
is  also  one  of  the  principal  fishing-stations  in  Scotland  the 
number  of  registered  boats  in  1881  being  342  of  41GS 
tons,  giving  constant  employment  to  697  persons,  and  occa- 
sional employment  to  300.  Montrose  joins  with  Arbroath 
J3rechin,  Forfar,  and  Inverbervie  in  returning  one  member 
to  parliament.  The  population  of  the  royal  bur'di  in  1S71 
was  15,720,  and  16,280  in  1881  ;  the  population  of  the 
parhamentary  burgh  in  the  same  years  was  14,452  and 
14,975. 

Montrose  received  a  charter  from  David  I.  in  the  12th  ceiiturv 
and  was  made  a  royal  burgh  by  David  II.  in  1352.  The  town  was 
destroyed  by  fire  m  1244.  It  was  from  the  port  of  Montrose  that 
Sir  James  Douglas  in  1330  embarked  for  the  Holy  Land  witli  the 
heart  of  Bruce,  and  that  Prince  James  Stuart,  "the  Old  Preteiu  er "^ 

The  town  is  the  birthplace  of  Andrew  Melville,  of  the  gi-cat  marnu:s 
of  Montrose,  and  of  Joseph  Hume.  !■  "I'qv-s 

MONTROSE,  James  GRAH.iJi,  Marquis  of  (161-'- 
1650),  born  in  1612,  became  the  fifth  earl  of  Montrose  by 
his  father's  death  in  1 626.  He  was  educated  at  St  Andrews ; 
and  in  1629,  at  the  early  age  of  seventeen,  he  married' 
Magdalene  Carnegie,  daughter  of  the  earl  of  Southesk.  In 
1636,  on  his  way  home  from  a  prolonged  visit  to  the  Conti- 
nent, he  sought  an  introduction  to  Charles  I.,  but,  as  it  is  said 
was  frustrated  in  his  hope  of  obtaining  the  king's  favour  by 
an  intrigue  of  the  marquis  of  Hamilton.  Is'ot  long  after 
the  outbreak  of  the  Scottish  troubles  in  1637  he'joined 
the  party  of  resistance,  and  was  for  some  time  its  most 
energetic  champion.  He  had  nothing  puritanical  iii  his 
nature,  but  he  shared  in  the  ill  feeling  aroused  in  tlie 
Scottish  nobility  by  the  political  authority  given  by 
Charles  to  the  bishops,  and  in  the  general  indignation  at 
the  king's  ill-judged  scheme  of  imposing  upon  Scotland  a 
liturgy  which  had  been  drawn  up  at  the  instigation  of  the 
English  court,  and  which  had  been  corrected  in  England 
by  that  Archbishop  Laud  who  now  became  known  in  Scot- 
land under  the  nickname  of  "the  pope  of  Canterburj-." 
Montrose's  chivalrous  enthusiasm  eminently  qualified  him  to 
be  the  champion  of  a  national  cause,  and  the  resistance  if 
Scotland  was  quite  as  much  national  as  it  was  religio;-.^. 
He  signed  the  Covenant,  and  became  one  of  the  foremost. 
Covenanters.  The  part  assigned  to  him  was  the  suppres- 
sion of  the  opposition  to  the  popular  cause  which  arosu- 
around  Aberdeen  and  in  the  country  of  the  Gordons.  Three 
times,  in  July  1638.  ami  in  March  and  June  1639  Montrr  .-tr 


796 


M  0  N  — M  0  IS' 


entered  Aberdeen,  where  lie  thoroughly  succeeded  in  effect- 
ing his  object,  on  the  second  occasion  carrying  off  the 
licad  of  the  Gordons,  the  marquis  of  Huntly,  as  a  prisoner 
to  Edinburgh. 

In  July  1639,  after  the  signature  of  the  treaty  of 
Warwick,  Montrose  was  one  of  the  Covenanting  leaders 
■.vho  visited  Charles  upon  the  borders.  This  change  of 
policy  on  his  part  is  frequently  ascribed  to  the  fascination 
of  the  king's  conversation.  In  reality  it  arose  from  the 
nature  of  his  own  convictions.  He  wished  to  get  rid  of 
the  bishops  without  making  presbyters  masters  of  the 
.■>tata.  His  was  essentially  a  layman's  view  of  the  situa- 
tion. Taking  no  account  of  the  real  forces  of  the  tirno, 
lie  aimed  at  an  ideal  form  of  society  in  which  the  clergy 
should  confine  themselves  to  their  spiritual  duties,  and  in 
V.  Liich  the  king,  after  being  enlightened  by  open  communi- 
<:'.tlon  with  the  Scottish  nation,  should  maintain  law  and 
<;:  dcrw-ithout  respect  of  persons.  In  the  Scottish  parliament 
wliich  met  in  September,  Montrose  attempted  to  carry  out 
ihis  policy,  and  found  himself  in  opposition  to  Argyll,  who 
had  placed  himself  at  the  head  of  the  Presbyterian  and 
national  party,  which,  by  an  alteration  of  the  rules  that 
Iiad  hitherto  regulated  the  selection  of  the  Lords  of  the 
Articles,  gave  supremacy  in  parliament  to  the  representa- 
tives of  the  middle  classes.  Montrose,  on  the  other  hand, 
wished  to  bring  the  king's  authority  to  bear  upon.parlia- 
n;ent  to  defeat  this  object,  and  offered  him  the  support  of 
a  great  number  of  the  nobles,  who  were  by  this  time  as 
much  opposed  to  the  predominance  of  the  Presbyterian 
clergy  acting  upon  the  middle  classes  as  they  had  before 
been  opposed  to  the  predominance  of  the  bishops.  He 
failed,  because  Charles  could  not  even  then  consent  to 
abandon  the  bishops,  and  because  no  Scottish  party  of  any 
■weight  could  be  formed  unless  Presbytorianism  were  estab- 
lished ecclesiastically. 

llathcr  than  give  way,  Charles  prepared  in  1610  to  in- 
vade Scotland.  As  usual,  he  prepared  difficulties  for  those 
>vho  wished  to  support  him.  Montrose  was  of  necessity 
driven  to  play  something  of  a  double  part.  In  August 
1340  he  signed  the  Bond  of  Cumbernauld  as  a  protest 
against  the  particular  and  direct  practising  of  a  few — in 
ot'ier  \vords,  against  the  ambition  of  Arg)-U.  But  ho  took 
his  place  amongst  the  defenders  of  his  country,  and  in  the 
.•=amc  month  he  Vv-as  the  first  to  wade  across  the  Tweed  at 
the  head  of  the  invaders  of  England.  After  the  invasion 
liad  been  crowned  with  success,  Montrose  still  continued 
to  cherish  his  now  hopeless  policy.  On  .'?7th  Jlay  16-11 
tie  was  summoned  before  the  Committee  of  Estates  charged 
■with  intrigues  against  Argyll,  and  on  11th  June  he  was 
imprisoned  in  Edinburgh  Castle,  ^^lien  Charles  visited 
t^cotland  to  give  his  formal  assent  to  the  abolition  of 
Episcopacy,  Montrose  communicated  to  him  his  belief  that 
■flamilton  was  a  traitor.  It  has  indeed  been  alleged,  on 
•l.iarendon's  authority,  that  he  proposed  to  murder  Hamilton 
and  ^Vi'gyll ;  but  this  is  in  all  probability  only  one  of  Claren- 
don's miry  blundei-s.  His  letters  to  Charles,  however, 
must  be  taken  in  connexion  w  ith  this  so-called  incident. 
During  the  progress  of  the  investigation  of  this  plot,  Mon- 
trose remained  in  custody,  and  upon  the  king's  return  to 
England  ho  shared  in  the  amnesty  which  was  tacitlyaccorded 
to  all  Charles's  partisans. 

Vor  a  time  Slontrose  retired,  not  voluntarily,  from  public 
life.  After  the  Civil  War  in  England  began  he  constantly 
JM-Cised  Charles  to  allow  him  to  make  a  diversion  on  Scot- 
land. At  last  in  164-1,  ■when  the  Scottish  army  entered 
England  to  take  part  against  the  king,  Jlontrose,  now 
created  a  marquis,  was  allowed  to  try  what  he  could  do. 
Ho  set  out  lo  invade  Scotland  with  about  1000  men.  But 
Ills  followers  deserted,  and  his  condition  appeared  hopc!cs«. 
Genius,  however,  inspired  him  with  courage.     Disguised 


as  a  groom,  he,  with  only  two  gentlemen,  started  on  IStli 
August  to  make  his  way  to  the  Highlands.  No  enterprise 
might  seem  rasher.  Highlanders  had  never  before  been 
known  to  combine  together,  but  'Jloutrose  knew  that  most 
of  the  clans  detested  Argyll,  not  because  they  were  royalist 
but  because  Arg>-|l,  as  the  head  of  the  Campbells,  was  the 
chief  of  an  aggressive  and  unscrupulous  tribe.  Montrose 
did  not  miscalculate  his  chances.  The  clans  rallied  to  his 
summons.  About  2000  Irish  had  crossed  the  sea  to  assist 
him.  He  won  battle  after  battle.  He  defeated  the  Cove- 
nanters at  Tippermuir  on  1st  September,  and  at  the  Bridge 
of  Dee  on  1 2th  September.  Rapidity  of  movement  was  tlie 
•distinguisliing  feature  of  his  generalship.  He  crossed  the 
mountains  deep  with  a  winter's  snow  into  the  country  of 
Argyll,  burning  and  destroying  as  ho  rtsted  for  a  time 
from  more  active  operations.  On  2d  February  1645  he 
crushed  the  Campbells  at  Inverlochy,  whilst  the  head  of 
the  house,  who  was  no  warrior,  looked  on  at  the  disaster 
from  a  boat.  The  Scottish  parliament  declared  Montros-i 
to  have  forfeited  his  life  and  estate  as  a  traitor,  but  it  could 
not  reach  bun  to  execute  the  sentence.  On  19th  February 
he  captured  Elgin,  tlirough  March  he  was  ravaging  Aber- 
deenshire and  Kincardineshire,  on  3d  .April  he  stormed 
Dundee,  then  on  9th  ilay  came  the  vlctorj'  of  Auldeain,  on 
2d  July  the  victory  of  Alford,  and  on  1 5th  August  the  great 
victory  of  Kilsyth.  Never  till  after  this  battle  had  Mon- 
trose ventured  far  from  the  Highland  hlUs.  The  High- 
landers had  the  habit  of  running  home  after  a  victory  to 
secure  their  booty.  Now,  however,  Montrose  found  himself 
apparently  master  of  Scotland.  In  the  name  of  the  king, 
who  now  appointed  him  lord-lieutenant  and  captain-general 
of  Scotland,  he  sum.raoned  a  parliament  to  meet  at  Glasgow 
on  20th  October,  In  which  he  no  doubt  hoped  to  reconcile 
loyal  obedience  to  the  king  with  the  establishment  of  a 
non-political  Presbyterian  clergy.  That  parliament  never 
met.  In  England  Charles  was  in  evil  case.  He  had  been 
defeated  at  Naseby  on  14th  June,  and  Montrose  must 
come  to  his  help  if  there  was  to  be  still  a  king  to  proclaim. 
He  never  had  a  chance  of  knowing  what  Montrose  could 
do  against  the  "  new  model "  army  David  Leslie,  the  best 
of  the  Scottish  generals,  was  despatched  against  Montrose 
to  antlclpiate  the  invasion.  On  I'Jth  September  he  came 
upon  Montrose,  deserted  by  his  H  ighlanders  and  guarded 
only  by  a  little  group  of  followeis,  at  Philiphaugh.  He 
won  an  easy  victory.  Montrose  cut  his  way  through  to 
the  Highlands  ;  but  he  failed  to  reorganize  an  army.  On 
3d  September  1646  he  embarked  fur  Norway. 

Montrose  was  to  appear  once  mors  on  the  stage  of  Scot- 
tish history.  In  June  1649  he  was  restored  by  the  exiled 
Charles  11.  to  his  nominal  lieutenant-governorship  of  Scot- 
land. In  March  1600  he  landed  in  the  Orkneys  to  take 
the  command  of  a  small  force  which  ho  had  sent  on  before 
him.  Cro.sslng  to  the  mainland,  he  tried  to  raise  the  clans, 
but  the  clans  would  not  rise,  and  on  27th  April  he  vras 
surprised  and  caiitured  at  Corblesdale  in  Ross-shire.  On 
ISth  May  ho  entered  Edinburgh  as  a  prisoner.  On  the 
20th  he  was  sentenced  to  death  by  the  parliament,  and  he 
was  hanged  on  the  21st,  with  AVishart's  laudatory  biography 
of  him  put  round  his  neck.  To  the  last  he  protested  that 
he  was  a  real  Covenanter  and  a  loyal  subject.  "  The  Cove- 
nant which  I  took,"  ho  said,  "  I  own  It  and  adiere  to  it. 
Bishops,  I  care  not  for  them ;  I  never  Intended  to  advance 
their  interest."  Something,  at  least,  of  Montrose's  dream, 
so  impossible  to  realize  at  that  time,  has  been  realized  in 
Scotland.  Scotland  lias  remained  ecclesiastically  Presby- 
tcrlan.  The  political  legality  which  Montrose  wished  to 
upheld  against  factions  by  means  of  tlie  Idng  has  been 
upheld  by  means  of  th.a  political  ripeness  of  tho  ScottUh 
nation  itself.  (s.  R.  o.) 

MONT  ST  MICHEL,  a  cuilous  rocky  islet,  consisting 


M  O  N  — M  O  N 


797 


of  A  mass  of  granite  about  3000  feet  in  ccrr.pass  and  165 
feet  in  height,  rises  at  a  distance  of  neoj-ly  a  mile  from 
the  shore  in  the  bay  of  St  Michel,  near  the  nouth  of  the 
Cou&non,  at  the  vertex  of  the  angle  formed  by  the  coasts 
of  Brittany  and  Normandy.  The  quicksands  by  which  it 
is  aarroiinded,  and  which  stretch  far  to  seaivard,  ai e  ex- 
posed at  low  water,  &nd  highly  dingcrou3  to  those  who 
venture  oa  thcca  Trithout  a  g-iide.  Eecentlr  efforts  at 
E8ckmatio!i  have  been  made,  and  amongst  other  wo.'izs  a 
causeway  has  been  constructed  ccnn'.T.ting  Mont  St  Michel 
with  the  nearest  point  of  the  msinknd  (near  Moidrey) ; 
an  unfortunate  consequence  of  these  operations  has  been 
that  some  portions  of  the  ramparts  of  the  island  have  been 
gapped  by_  the  altered  tidal  currents.  The  fortress-abbey, 
to  which  the  rock  owes  its  fame,  stands  upon  the  mere 
precipitous  sido  towards  the  north  and  west ;  the  sloping 
portion  towards  the  east  and  south  is  occupied  by  dwelling- 
houses.  The  strong  machicolated  and  turreted  wall-  by 
which  tho  whole  is  surrounded  is  pierced  only  by  a  single 
gateway.  The  northward  wall  of  the  abbey  (La  Merveille), 
dating  from  the  13th  century,  is  of  remarkable  boldness; 
it  is  246  feet  in  length  and  108  feet  in  height,  is  sup- 
ported by  twenty  buttresses,  and  is  pierced  by  a  variety  of 
openings.  The  single  street  of  the  island,  leading  from 
the  one  gateway  up  to  the  donjon  of  the  fortress,  is  lined 
with  houses,  most  of  them  used  as  lodging-houses  by 
visitors  and  pilgrims ;  it  contains  an  old  pamsh  church, 
and  the  house  of  Du  Guesclin  is  also  pointed  out.  The 
abbey  consists  principally  of  two  parallel  buildings  of 
three  stories  each,  that  on  the  east  containing  hospitium, 
refectory,  and  dormitory,  and  that  on  the  west  the  cellar, 
knights'  hall,  and  cloister.  The  knights'  hall  is  a  superb 
piece  of  Gothic  architecture,  measuring  85  feet  by  59, 
with  three  rows  of  richly-ornamented  pillars.  The  cloister 
is  one  of  the  purest  and  most  graceful  works  of  the  13th 
century  (1228).  The  church  has  a  number  of  imperfect 
tUiTets,  and  is  surmounted  by  a  square  tower  of  the  17th 
century,  with  a  statue  of  St  Michael,  which  was  crowned 
in  1877.  The  nave,  which  dates  from  the  11th  century,  is 
Norman ;  but  the  choir,  which  collapsed  in  1421,  has  been 
rebuilt  in  the  flamboyant  style.     Beneath  is  a  fine  crypt. 

Mont  St  Michel  was  ^  sacred  place  even  in  the  time  of  the  Druids. 
It  became  a  seat  of  Christian  worship  in  the  8th  century,  when  a 
monastery  was  founded  upon  it  (with  the  usual  miraculous  accom- 
paniments) by  St  Aubei-t,  bishop  of  Arranches.  It  soon  became 
3  favourite  resort  of  pilgrims,  not  only  from  all  parts  of  France,  but 
also  from  Great  Brit^  and  Ireland,  and  even  from  Italy.  It  was 
plundered  by  the  Normans ;  but  Rollo,  on  his  conversion,  made 
restitution.  At  the  time  of  the  Conquest  it  supplied  William  of 
Kormaudy  with  six  ships,  and  received  a  considerable  share  of  the 
English  spoils.  "  About  this  time  the  monks  began  to  give  them- 
selves to  learning  and  to  collect  a  largo  libraiy,  and  in  the  12th 
century  the  establishment  reached  its  highest  prosperity.  It  was 
burnt  by  the  troops  of  Philip  Augustus,  who  afterwards  fxu-nishcd 
larce  sums  for  its  restoration  (La  ilen-eiUe).  St  Louis  (Louis  IX.) 
made  a  pilgrima"e  to  Mont  St  llichcl,  and  was  afterwards  very  liberal 
to  it  During  the  hundred  years'  war  it  offered  a  memorable  resist- 
ance to  the  English  ;  and  hero,  on  1st  August  14GS,  Louis  XI. 
instituted  the  order  of  St  Michel,  and  held  a  brilliant  chapter.  A 
similar  celebration  was  held  by  Francis  I.  Dining  the  religious 
wars  the  Huguenots  made  repeated  unsuci-essful  attempts  to  seize 
tlio  fortress  ;  it  opened  its  gates  to  Henry  IV.  after  his  abjuration. 
About  1615  the  Benedictine  monks  of  Mont  St  >Iichel  were  re- 
placed by  monks  of  the  Congregation  of  St  JIaur  ;  after  the  Revolu- 
tion tho  abbey  was  used  as  a  prison  for  political  offenders.  It  is 
now  an  histoncal  monument;  it  contains  an  orphanage,  and  is  under- 
going repairs. 

JIONTSERRAT,  one  ot  the  Leeward  Islands  in  the 
West  Indie.?,  situoted  16°  45'  N.  lat.  and  62°  7'  W.  long., 
U  12  miles  long  and  8  broad  in  its  widest  part,  and  has  an 
area  of  32  square  niiies.  The  uneven  and  rugged  surface 
suggests  possibly  volcanic  origin.  Its  general  appearance 
is  very  picturesque,  the  most  interesting  natural  feature 
being  the  Souffriere.  The  island  was  discovered  by 
Cdvunbus  in  1493,  and  received  its  name  either  because 


of  its  broken  appearance  or  after  the  mountain  in  Spain. 
It  was  colonized  by  the  English  under  Sir  Thomas  Wamet 
in  1632,  and  was  taken  by  the  French  in  1664.  Restored 
to  tho  English  in  IOCS,  it  capitulated  to  the  French  in 
1782,  but  was  again  restored  in  1784.  It  is  now  a  pre- 
sidency under  the  general  government  at  Antigua,  and  has 
a  legislative  council,  composed  of  oiBcjals  and  crown  nomi- 
nees. The  cliTcate  is  tho  most  healthy  in  the  West  Indies. 
Tiie  population.  (10,087)  consists  principally  of  negroes, 
with  several  hundred  whites.  The  revenue  and  expendi- 
ture average  .£5000  per.annum.  Sugar  exports  range  from 
1200  to  occasionally  2000  tons.  An  important  industry 
is  the  cultivation  of  limes  and  the  manufacture  of  juice. 
About  700  puncheons  of  raw  lime  juice,  300  hogsheads  of 
concentrated  juice,  and  an  increasing  quantity  of  fresh  green 
limes  are  ezported  annually.  For  the  three  years  ending 
18S0  the  average  value  of  imports  was  £26,390,  of  exports 
£32,963.  The  principal  town  is  Plymouth,  lying  midway 
along  the  south-west  coast. 

MONTSERSAT.  Thirty  miles  to  the  north-west  of 
Barcelona  in  Spain  there  rises  a  very  remarkable  mountain 
of  grey  conglomerate,  24  miles  in  circumference,  and  at  its 
loftiest  point  (San  Geronimo)  a  little  more  than  4000  feet 
in  height.  From  the  comparative  lowness  of  the  surroimd- 
ing  district,  and  from  its  eitraordinaiy  configuration,  it  is 
a  conspicuous  object  for  many  miles  around.  The  mountain 
consists  of  jagged  pinnacles  and  spires  rising  abruptly  from 
the  base  of  the  mass,  which  is  cloven  with  many  clefts,  and 
abounds  with  steep  precipices.  It  is  the  2{cns  Scrratvs  of 
the  Romans,  the  Monte  Serrado  of  the  Spaniards,  and  is 
thus  named  either  in  allusion  to  its  jagged  appearance,  like 
the  teeth  of  a  saw,  or  because  the  eastern  face  is  split,  as 
if  sawn, — which  occurred,  say  the  Spanish  legends,  at  the 
time  of  the  crucifixion,  when  the  rocks  were  rent.  The 
arms  of  the  monastery  represent  a  mountain  with  a  saw 
resting  upon  it  and  penetrating  some  distance  into  its  mass. 
Its  pinnacles  and  pyramids  apd  sharp  angular  masses 
resemble  a  mountain  of  hard  crystalline  volcanic  tuff  which 
occurs  between  Akureyri  and  Kalmanstunga  in  Iceland. 
The  effect  of  Montserrat  may  be  realized  faintly  if  we  place 
oiu^elves  upon  the  roof  of  Milan  cathedral,  and  imagine  the 
forest  of  spires  magnified  a  thousandfold.  The  central 
spire  will  represent  San  Geronimo.  Tlie  result-of  this  varied 
contour  in  the  case  of  Montserrat  is  to  make  it  one  of  the 
most  picturesque  places  in  Europe.  Paths  wind  along  the 
faces  of  the  precipices,  ascending  to  bare  grey  summits, 
descending  to  sheltered  valleys  fiUed  with  evergreens  and 
flowers.  The  Pyrenees  are  seen  in  one  direction,  tho  se.a  in 
another,  while  the  Llobregat  winds  at  the  foot  of  the 
mountain  through  the  village  of  Monistrol.  Manresa  and 
other  villages  are  seen  scattered  over  the  plain ;  and  hills 
covered  with  a  warm  red  soil  alternate  with  rich  valleys. 
Street  says  of  Montserrat,  —  "Aftcj  much  experience  of 
mountains,  it  strikes  ms  more  each  time  that  I  see  it  a£ 
among  the  very  noblest  of  rocks." 

The  monastery,  a  great  pile  of  buildings,  stands  upon  a 
narrow  platform  on  the  edge  of  a  vast  cliasra  in  the  eastern 
face  of  tho  mountain.  It  owes  its  existence  to  an  image 
of  the  Virgin,  said  t®  have  been  carved'  by  St  Luke,  and 
brought  to  Barcelona  by  St  Peter  in  30  .t.D.  When  the 
Moors  invaded  the  province  in  717,  tho  image  was  taken 
to  Montserrat  and  hidden  in  a  cave.  In  8  SO  Gonderaar, 
bishop  of  Vich,  was  attracted  to  the  cava  by  sweet  sounds 
and  smells,  and  there  found  the  image,  which  he  determined 
to  take  to  Manresa.  But  at  a  certain  spot  on  the  mountaii'. 
the  image  refu.sed  to  proceed  farther ;  there  it  was  consc- 
ouently  deposited,  and  a  chapel  was  erected  to  contain  it. 
A  stone  cross  near  the  walls' of  the  monastery  still  marks 
the  spot  whore  the  imrxge  refused  to  move.  Round  the 
chapel  a  nunnery  was  built,  and  in  976  this  was  enlarged 


798 


M  O  N  -  -  31  0  O 


and  converted  into  a  Benedictine  monastery.  Pliilip  II. 
liuilt  the  present  church.  In  1S35  the  monastery  was 
suppressed  and  despoiled  of  the  vast -treasured  wki..h  had 
accumulated  during  the  Middle  Ages.  But  the  buildings 
were  allowed  to  remain,  as  well  as  a  few  of  the  fathers  to 
take  charge  of  the  Virgin's  shrine.  At  i)rcseut  they  number 
19;  a  hundred  years  ago  there  were  76  monks,  28  lay- 
brothers,  25  singing  boys,  together  with  surgeon,  physician, 
and  servants.  The  possessions  then  consisted  of  numerous 
hamlets,  besides  great  quantities  of  plate  and  jewels,  includ- 
ing 85  silver  lamps. 

Nuestra  SeSora  de  Slontserrat,  Patrona  de  Cataluua,  is  ouo  of  the 
■  most  celebrated  images  in  Spain,  and  her  chuixh  is  visited  annually 
by  more  than  80,000  pilgrims.  It  is  a  small  carved  wooden  image, 
"  regularly  handsome,  but  the  colour  of  a  negro  woman,"  and  pos- 
sesses magnificent  robes  and  jewels.  It  has  been  visited  by  numbers 
of  sovereigns  and  high  ecclesiastics,  and  by  millions  of  Catalonians. 
In  September  ISil  it  was  solemnly  crowned  by  Leo  XIII.,  who  sent 
a  crown  from  Rome  for  that  purpose.  Quantities  of  ex  votos  are 
oficred  at  the  shrine :  wa.x  models  of  injured  or  diseased  limbs, 
models  of  ships,  pictures  and  clothes,  jewels  and  silver  hearts. 
As  the  celebrity  and  sanctity  of  Montserrat  increased,  so  did  the 
number  of  devotees.  Ignatius  Loyola  laid  his  sword  upon  the- altar 
of  the  Virgin,  and,  placing  himself  under  her  protection,  started  from 
Montserrat  to  commence  his  new  life.  JIany  eminent  Spaniards, 
weary  of  the  w-orld,  have  retired  to  this  monastery  to  end  their  days. 
Some  preferred  solitary  hermitages  perched  among  the  rocks.  Of 
these  there  w-ere  fifteen,  eleven  of  which  onco  formed  a  via  sacra, 
erding  at  the  summit  of  San  Geronimo.  They  were  destroyed  bv  the 
French,  but  the  ruins  of  some  of  them  still  remain.  From  all  the 
vi:w  is  magnificent;  some  are  indeed  placed  on  the  edges  of  preci- 
jnces  in  almost  inaccessible  places.  There  arc  also  caves  in  the  moun- 
tain, some  of  which  were  formerly  occupied  by  monks.  The  most 
celebrated  of  these  are  the  cave  of  the  Virgin,  in  which  the  Santa 
Ivicijcn  remained  hidden  until  found  by  Gondemar,  and  the  cave 
of  I  ray  Juan  tiarin,  a  notorious  sinner,  who  ended  his  days  in  the 
practice  of  revolting  penances  at  Jloutserrat.  At  CoUbato,  on  the 
south-east  side  of  the  mountain,  near  the  base,  there  are  also  some 
very  curious  caves. 

MONTUCLA,  JEAN-foiENNE  (1725-1799),  a  learned 
rattthematician,  -was  the  .son  of  a  merchant,  and  was  born 
at  Lyons  in  1725.  He  attended  the  college  of  the  Jesuits 
in  his  native  city,  and  was  early  distinguished  for  his 
t.iuacious  memory  and  his  aptitude  for  mathematics.  At 
the  age  of  sixteen  he  removed  to  Toulouse  to  presecute  the 
study  of  law ;  and  after  taking  the  asual  degrees  he  re- 
paired to  Paris.  There  his  conversational  power.s,  his  solid 
information,  and  his  acquirements  as  a  linguist  soon  intro- 
duced him  to  the  notice  of.  the  learned.  In  the  society  of 
D'Alembert  and  Lalande  his  taste  for  mathematical  studies 
was  confirmed  and  stimulated.  After  publishing  two  anony- 
mous treatises  on  the  Quadrature  of  the  Circle  and  on  the 
Duplication  of  the  Cube,  he  gave  to  the  world  in  1758  the 
first  part  of  his  great  work,  The  Eistori/  of  Mathematics. 
>rot  long  after  this  his  merits  -(vere  recognized  by  the 
Government,  and  he  was  promoted  to  several  important 
offices.  He  was  appointed  intendant-secretary  at  Grenoble 
in  1758,  secretary  to  the  expedition  for  colonizing  Cayenne 
in  176-1,  and  "  premier  commis  des  bailments  "  and  censor- 
royal  foi;  mathematical  books  in  1765.  During  the  next 
twenty-five  years  his  time  w-as  divided  between  his  official 
duties  and  the  study  of  his  favourite  science.  The  Revolu- 
tion then  ensuing  deprived  him  of  his  income,  and  left  him 
in  great  destitution.  The  offer  in  1795  of  a  mathematical 
chair  in  one  of  the  schools  of  Paris  was  declined  on  accoiuit 
of  his  infirm  health,  and  he  was  still  in  straitened  circum- 
stances in  1798  when  he  published  a  second  edition  of  the 
first  part  of  his  Ilistory.  Ho  also  enlarged  Ozanam's 
Mathematical  Recreations,  afterwards  published  in  English 
by  Dr  Hutton  (4  vols.,  Lond.,  1803).  About  four  months 
before  his  death  (December  1790)  a  pension  of  2-100  francs 
was  conferred  upon  him.  His  History  of  Mathematics  was 
completed  by  Lalande,  and  published  at  Paris  in  1799-1802 
(•t  vols.  4  to). 

Jlontucla's  work  was  the  first  history  of  mat}upiatics  w-orthyof  the 


name.  It  is  characterized  alike  by  elegance  of  style  and  by  breadth 
of  treatment-  Montucla  rarely  fails  iu  candour,  and  never  in  breadth 
of  sympathy  j  he  Bved  at  a  time  when  it  would  have  been  pardon- 
able to  treat  mathematics  "as  a  French 'science,"  yet  he  cannot 
with  justice  be  accused  of  Chauvinism.  The  study  of  the  history 
of  mathematics  has  greatly  revived  of  late  years,  especially  in 
Germany,  and  numerous  monographs  on  special  departments  have 
appeared,  iu  w-hich,  as  was  to  be  e.\pected,  many  defects  and  some 
positive  errors  in  Jlontucla's  work  have  been  pointed  out,  but, 
taken  as  a  whole,  it  stands  as  yet  unsuperseded,  unrivalled,  fit,  as 
to  its  admirable  stvie  and  endming  quality,  to  bo  compared  with 
Gibbon's  Decline  and  Fall  of  the  Jloman  Empire. 

MONZA  (locally  Monscia),  a  city  of  Italy  in  the  pro- 
vince of  Milan,  at  the  branching  of  the  railway  for  Lecco 
and  Como,  lies  on  the  Lambro,  a  tributary  of  the  Po, 
mainly  on  the  right  bank,  in  a  healthy  and  attractive 
situation.  Of  the  mediaeval  fortifications  little  remains 
save  the  Porta  d'Agrate.  The  cathedral  of  St  John 
Baptist  is  the  principal  object  of  interest  :  Theodelinda's 
basilica  -was  enlarged  at  the  close  of  the  loth  century  by 
throwing  the  atrium  into  the  main  building,  and  the 
present  marble  facade  was  erected  about  the  middle  of 
the  llth  by  Matteo  da  Campioue.  On  the  left-hand 
side  of  the  front  rises  an  incongruous  brick-built  to-wer, 
278  feet  high,  erected  by  Peregrini.  Within  the  church 
are  the  iro-i  crown  of  Lombardy  (removed  by  Austria 
in  1S59,  and  since  restored)  and  the  relics  of  Thcodelinda, 
comprising  her  .  cro-wn;  fan  and  comb  of  gold,  and  the 
golden  hen  and  seven  chickens,  representing  Lombardy 
and  her  seven  provinces.  Next  to  the  cathedral  in  artistic 
importance  come  the  church  of  Santa  Maria  in  Istrada, 
and  the  broletto  or  old  palace  of  the  commune,  usually 
styled  the  Arengario  :  the  former  (founded  in  1357)  has  a 
rich  Bramantescjue  fai;ade,  reckoned  one  of  the  best  pieces 
of  tcrra-cotta  work  in  Lombardy,  and  the  latter  is  raised 
on  a  system  of  pointed  arches,  and  has  a  tall  square  to-n-er 
terminating  in  machicolations  surrounding  a  sharp  central 
cone.  San  Jlichele  -ivas  the  scene  of  the  coronation  of 
Conrad  III.  in  1128,  and  San  Gerardo  (formerly  Sant' 
Arabrogio)  is  named  after  the  patron  saint  of  Monza, 
Gerardo  de'  Tintori,  who  founded  the  first  local  hospital  in 
117-i.  The  royal  palace  of  Monza  (1777),  with  its  exten- 
sive gardens  and  parks,  lies  not  far  from  the  town  on  the 
banks  of  the  Lambro.  Cotton  goods  and  felt  hats  are  the 
staple  products  of  Monza  industry ;  then  dyeing,  organ- 
building,  and  a  publishing  trade.  The  population  of  the 
city  was  15, -150  in  1871,  and  that  of  the  commune  increased 
from  24,661  in  1861  to  28,012  in  1881. 

Local  antiquaries  claim  for  Monza  {ilodicia  or  Modcetia)  the  rank 
of  a  Roman  colony,  but  it  cannot  have  been  a  place  of  consequence 
till  it  attracted  the  discerning  eye  of  Theodoric  ;  and,  though  it  was 
a  favourite  residence  with  his  immediate  successors,  its  first  im- 
portant associations  are  with  Thcodelinda  {see  vol.  xiv.  p.  815). 
During  the  period  of  the  republics  Jlonza  was  sometimes  inde- 
pcndeut,  sometimes  subject  to  Mil.au.  The  Visconti,  who  ulti- 
mately became  master's  of  the  city,  built  a  castle  in  1325  on  the 
site  now  occupied  by  the  Palazzo  Durini.  In  the  course  of  its 
history  Monza  has  stood  thirty-two  sieges,  and  been  repeatedly  |>luu- 
dered,  notably  by  the  forces  of  Charles  V.  The  countship'(1499- 
1796)  was  purchased  in  1546  by  the  wealthy  bauker  Duriui,  and 
remained  in  his  family  till  the  Revolutio.n. 

MOOLTAN.     See  Mi)lt.L\. 

MOON,  The.  The  subject  of  the  moon  divides  itself 
into  two  separate  branches,  the  one  concerned  with  the  con- 
stitution of  the  luiiar  globe,  the  other  w-ith  its  motions. 
For  the  first  subject  the  reader  is  referred  to  the  article 
AsTKONOMY  (vol.  ii.  p.  801  sq.) ;  the  jire-sent  article  is  con- 
fined to  the  second,  which  is  commonly  called  the  Lvnar 
Theory. 

The  kmar  theory  does  not  yet  form  a  well-defined 
body  of  reasoning  and  doctrine,  like  other  branches  of 
mathematical  science,  but  consists  only  of  a  series  of 
researches,  extending  through  twenty  centuries  or  more, 
and  incapable  of   being  welded  into  n  consistent  whole.' 


MOON 


799 


This  state  of  things  arises  from  the  inherent  difficulties 
and  complexities  of  the  subject,  and  from  the  fact  that  no 
one  method  or  system  has  yet  been  discovered  by  which 
all  the  difficulties  can  be  surmounted  and  all  the  com- 
plexities disentangled.  Hence  each  investigator,  when  he 
has  desired  to  make  any  substantial  advance  beyond  his 
predecessors,  has  been  obliged  to  take  up  the  subject  from 
a  noTT  point  of  view,  and  to  devise  such  method  as  might 
seem  to  him  most  suitable  to  the  special  object  in  hand. 
The  historical  treatment  is  therefore  that  best  adapted 
to  give  a  clear  idea  of  the  results  of  these  investigations. 
Tlie  ancient  and  modern  histories  of  the  subject  are  quite 
distinct,  the  modern  epoch  commencing  with  Newton.  The 
great  epoch  made  by  Copernicus  did  not  extend  to  the  case 
of  the  moon  at  all,  because  in  every  investigation  of  the 
moon's  motion,  modem  as  well  as  ancient;  the  motion  is 
referred  to  the  earth  as  a  centre.  Hence  the  heliocentric 
system  introduced  no  new  conception  of  this  motion,  except 
th.-\t  of  taking  place  round  a  mo^'ing  earth  instead  of  round 
a  fixed  one.  This  change  did  not  affect  the  consideration 
of  the  relative  motion  of  the  earth  and  moon,  with  which 
alone  the  lunar  theory  is  concerned.  The  two  stages  of 
the  lunar  theory  are  therefore — (1)  that  in  which  the  treat- 
ment was  purely  empirical,  (2)  that  in  which  it  was  founded 
rationally  on  the  law  of  gravitation. 

It  is  in  the  investigation  of  the  moon's  motion  that  the 
merits  of  ancient  astronomy  are  seen  to  the  best  advan- 
tage. In  the  hands  of  Hipparchus  (see  Astronomy,  vol. 
ii.  p.  749)  the  theory  was  brought  to  a  degree  of  precision 
wliich  is  really  marvellous  when  we  compare  it,  either 
with  other  branches  of  physical  science  in  that  age,  or 
with  the  remarks  and  speculations  of  contemporary  non- 
scientific  writers.  Whether  this  was  wholly  the  work  of 
Hipparchus,  or  whether  he  simply  perfec'ted  a  system 
already  devised  by  his  predecessors,  it  is  now  impossible  to 
say  ;  but,  so  far  as  certain  knowledge  extends,  the  works  of 
his  predecessors  did  not  embrace  more  than  the  deter- 
mination of  the  mean  motion  of  the  moon  and  its  nodes, 
.^though  the  general  fact  of  a  varying  motion  may  have 
been  ascertamed,  the  circiunstances  of  the  variation  had 
probably  never  been  thoroughly  investigated.  The  dis- 
coveries of  Hipparchus  were  : — 

1.  The  Ecceniriciiy  of  the  Mooii's  Orbit. — Ho  found  that 
the  moon  moved  most  rapidly  near  a  certain  point  of  its 
orbit,  and  most  slowly  near  the  opposite  point.  The  law 
of  this  motion  was  such  that  the  phenomena  could  be  re- 
presented by  supposing  the  motion  to  be  actually  circular 
and  uniform,  the  apparent  variations  being  explained  by  the 
hypothesis  that  the  earth  was  not  situated  in  the  centre  of 
the  orbit,  but  was  displaced  by  an  amount  about  equal  to  one- 
twentieth  of  the  radius  of  the  orbit.  Then,  by  a  well-known 
law  of  kinematics,  the  angular  motion  round  the  earth  would 
be  most  rapid  at  the  point  nearest  the  earth — that  is,  at 
peri/fee — and  slowest  at  the  point  most  distant  from  the 
earth — that  is,  at  apogee.  Thus  the  apogee  and  perigee 
became  two  definite  points  of  the  orbit,  indicated  by  the 
variations  in  the  angular  motion  of  the  moon. 

2.  The  Motion  of  the  Perigee  and  Apnf/ee. — As  already 
defined,  the  perigee  and  apogee  are  at  t!ie  ends  of  that 
diameter  of  the  orbit  which  passes  through  the  eccentrically 
situated  earth,  or,  in  other  words,  the)-  are  on  that  line 
which  passes  through  the  centre  of  the  earth  and  the  centre 
of  the  orbit.  This  line  was  called  the  line  of  apsides.  On 
comparing  observations  made  at  different  times,  it  was 
found  that  the  lino  of  apsides  was  not  fixed,  but  made  a 
complete  revolution  in  the  heavens,  in  the  order  of  the 
•igns  of  the  zodiac,  in  about  nine  years. 

3.  The  JTumerical  Determination  of  the  Elements  of  the 
Moon's  Motion. — In  order  that  the  two  capital  discoveries 
just  mentioned  should  have  the  highest  scientific  value  it 


was  essential  that  the  numerical  values  of  the  elements 
involved  in  these  complicated  motions  should  be  fixed  with 
precision.  This  Hipparchus  was  enabled  to  do  by  lunar 
eclipses.  Each  eclipse  gave  a  moment  at  which  the  longi- 
tude of  the  moon  was  180°  different  from  that  of  the  sun, 
and  the  latter  admitted'  of  ready  calculation.  Assuming 
the  mean  motion  of  the  moon  to  be  known  and  the  perigee 
to  be  fixed,  three  eclipses  observed  in  different  points  of 
the  orbit  would  give  as  many  true  longitudes  of  the 
moon,  which  longitudes  could  be  employed  to  determine 
three  unknown  quantities — the  mean  longitude  at  a  given 
epoch,  the  eccentricity,  and  the  position  of  the  perigee. 
By  taking  three  eclipses  separated  at  short  intervals,  both 
the  mean  motion  and  the  motion  of  the  perigee  would  be 
known  beforehand,  from  other  data,  with  sufficient  accuracy 
to  reduce  all  the  observations  to  the  same  epoch,  and  thus 
to  leave  only  the  three  elements  already  mentioned  un- 
kno-vvn.  In  the  hands  of  a  modern  calculator  the  problem 
would  be  a  very  simple  one,  requii-ing  little  more  than  the 
solution  of  a  system  of  three  equations  with  as  many  un- 
known quantities.  But  without  algebra  the  solution  was 
long  &nd  troublesome,  and  not  entirely  satisfactory.  Still, 
it  was  probably  correct  within  the  necessary  limits  of  the 
errors  of  the  observations.  The  same  three  elements  being 
again  determined  from  a  second  triplet  of  eclipses  at  as 
remote  an  epoch  as  possible,  the  difference  in  the  longitude 
of  the  perigee  at  the  two  epochs  gave  the  annual  motion 
of  that  element,  and  the  difference  of  mean  longitudes  gave 
the  mean  motion.  Such  was  the  method  of  determining 
the  elements  of  the  moon's  motion  down  to  the  time  of 
Copernicus. 

The  determination  of  the  eccentricity  from  eclipses,  as  above 
described,  leads  to  an  important  error  in  the  resulting  value  of  the 
eccentricity,  owing  to  the  effect  of  tJie  neglected  erection.  "We 
know  from'  our  modem  theory  that  the  two  principal  inequalities 
in  the  moon's  tnio  longitude  are — 

6°-29  sin  g  (Equation  of  centre) 

+  V-27  sia{2D-ci)  (Evection), 
where  g  =  mean  anomaly,  and  D  =  mean  angular'  distance  of  the 
moon  from  the  sun.  Kow  during  a  lunar  eclipse  ■n'e  always  have 
Z>  =  IS0°  very  nearly,  and  ID  =  360°.  ^  Hence  the  evection  is  then 
- 1'''27  sin  ff,  and  so  has  the  same  argument,  ff,  as  the  equation  of 
centre,  and  so  is  confounded  ivit<i  it.  The  value  of  the  equation 
of  centre  derived  fram  ecliijses  is  thus  (6°'29- 1°'27  =  5°'02)  sin  g. 
Therefore  the  eccentricity  lound  by  Hipparchus  and  Ptolemy  was 
only  5*,  and  was  more  than  a  degree  less  than  its  true  value.  ' 

The  next  important  step  in  advance  was  the  discovery 
of  the  "evection,"  which  is  described  by  Ptolemy  (see 
Astronomy,  vol.  ii.  p.  750)  as  if  made  by  himself.  In 
view  of  the  bad  habit  which  Ptolemy  had  of  making  his 
own  observations  verify  results  previously  arrived  at,  which 
were  sometimes  in  error,  we  must  view  such  a  discovery 
by  him  as  quite  exceptional,  and  as  best  explainable  by  the 
large  magnitude  of  the  outstanding  error.  Although,  as 
just  sho-ivn,  the  erroneous  eccentricity  found  by  Hipparchus 
would  always  represent  ecUpses,  so  that  the  error  could 
never  be  detected  by  eclipses,  the  case  was  entirely  different 
when  the  moon  was  in  quadratm-cs.  Comparing  the  in- 
equalities already  written  with  that  found  by  Hipparchus, 
we  see  that  the  latter  required  the  correction — 
r-27  {sin^-l-sin  (2i)-jr)}  = 
r-27  {(1  -cos2i))siny  +  sin2i)cos^} 
At  quadratures  we  have  D  =  ±90°,.2Z>=  180°,  and  hence 
cos  2i)  =  -  1  and  sin  22)  =  0.  The  omitted  inequalities 
at  these  points  of  the  orbit  have  therefore  the  value 
2°-5-t  sin  y,  a  quantity  so  large  that  it  could  not  fail  to  be 
detected  by  careful  observations  ■n'ith  the  astrolabe.  Such 
an  inequality  as  this,  superposed  upon  the  eccentric  motion 
of  the  moon,  was  very  troublesome  to  astronomers  who  had 
no  way  of  representing  the  celestial  motions  except  by 
geometrical  construction.  The  construction  proposed  by 
Ptolemy  was  so  different  from  those  employed  for  the 


800 


M  O  0  R 


motions  o!'  lite  plnnc-t^,  and  ■witlial  so  intricate,  that  little 
interest  attaches  to  it. 

The  student  of  Arabian  science  may  find  much  to  interest 
him  in  the  astronomical  speculations  of  the  Arnbs,  but  this 
jieople  do  not  seem  to  have  [uruisUed  anythii-.g  in  the  way 
of  suggestive  theory.  In  the  fourth  book  of  £>e  Ecvolu- 
iionihus,^  where  we  find  the  lunar  theory  of  Copernicus,  no 
^vTiter  later  than  Ptolemy  is  referred  to.  >Ioreover,  as 
already  intimated,  the  Trork  of  Copernicus  in  this  particu- 
lar direction  forma  little  more  than  an  episode  in  the  his- 
tory of  the  subject.  The  working  hj^othesi.s  of  the  great 
founder  of  modern  astronomy  was  borrovrcd  from  the 
ancients,  and  was  that  the  celestial  motions  were  all  either 
circular  or  compounded  of  circular  motions.  The  hypo- 
thesis of  equal  circular  motions,  though  accepted  by  Ptolemy 
in  name,  was  so  strained  by  him  in  its  applications  that 
little  was  left  of  it  in  the  Almag'M  (the  Arabic  translation 
of  his  St/ntaxis).  But.  by  taking  the  privilege  of  compound- 
ing circular  motions  indefinitely — in  other  words,  of  adding 
one  epicycle  to  another — Copernicus  was  enabled  to  repre- 
sent the  planetary  and  lunar  inequalities  on  a  uniform 
system,  though  his  heai-ens  were  perhaps  worse  "scribbled 
o'er  "  than  those  of  Ptolemy.  To  one  epicycle  representing 
the  equation  of  the  centre  he  added  another  for  the  cvection, 
and  thus  represented  the  longitude  of  the  moon  both  at 
quadratures  and  oppositions.  But  the  third  inequality, 
"variation,"  which  attains  its  maxima  at  the  octants  and 
vanishes  at  all  four  quarters,  M'as  unknown  to  him.  To 
Tyeho  Brahe  is  commonly  and  justly  ascribed  tha  diseoveiy 
of  the  variation.  Joseph  Bertrand  of  Paris  has  indeed 
claimed  the  discovery  for  Abii  'I-WefA,  an  Arabian  astro- 
nomer, and  has  made  it  appear  probable  that  Abii  '1-Wefri 
Really  detected  inequalities  in  the  moon's  motion  which  we 
now  know  to  have  been  the  variation.  But  ha  has  not 
.shov.Ti,  on  the  part  of  the  Arabian,  any  .such  exact  de- 
scription of  the  phenomena  as  is  necessary  to  make  clear 
his  claim  to  ths  discovery.  A^  regards  Tycho,  although 
he  discovered  the  fact,  ho  could  add  notliing  in  the  way  of 
suggestive  theory.  To  the  double  epicycle  of  Copernicus 
he  was  obliged  to  add  a,  motion  of  the  centre  of  the  whole 
lunar  orbit  round  a  circle  whose  circumference  passed 
through  the  centre  of  the  earth,  two  revolutions  round 
this  circle  being  mnde  in  each  luaation.  Kepler,  by  intro- 
ducing a  moving  ellipse  having  the  earth  as  its  fo.cus,  was 
enabled  to  make  a  nearer  approach  to  the  truth  than  any 
of  his  predecessors.  But  the  geometrical  h}-potheses  by 
which  he  represented  the  inequalities  due  to  the  action  of 
ths  sun  form  no  greater  epoch  in  the  progress  of  science 
than  do  the  geometrical  constructions  of  his  predecessors. 
Wo  may  therefore  dispose  of  the  ancient  history  of  the 
lunar  theory  by  saying  that  the  only  real  progress  from 
Hipparchus  to  Xewton  consisted  in  the  more  exact  deter- 
luiuation  of  tho  mean  motions  of  the  moon^  its  perigee 
and  its  line  of  nodes,  and  in  the  discovery  of  three  new 
inequalities,  the  representation  6f  which  required  geometri- 
cal constnictions  increasing  in  complexity  with  every  step. 
Tho  nioderu  hmar  theory  commenced  with  Newton,  and 
consist  ■;  in  determining  the  motion  oY  the  moon  deductively 
from  tho  theory  of  gravitation.  But  the  great  founder  of 
modern  mechanics  did  not  employ  tho  method  best  adapted 
to  load  to  the  desired  result,  and  hWce  his  elT;>rts  to  con- 
struct a  lunar  theory  aro  of  more  interest  as  illustrations 
of  his  w-onderful  power  and  correctness  in  mathematical 
reasoning  than  as  germs  of  new  methods  of  research.  Ho 
succeeded  perfectly  in  explaining  tho  elliptic  motion  of  two 
mutually  attracting  bodies  round  their  common  centre  of 
gravity  by  geometrical  constructions.     But  when  the  prob- 


'  The  full  title,  Dc  P.fvnhttioiULita  Orbium  Calcslhtm  Libri  VI, 
(email  folio,  Kurombei'g,  1543). 


1cm  was  one  of  determining  the  variations  from  the  elliptic 
motion  which  would  be  produced  by  a  third  body,  such 
constructions  could  lead  only  to  approximate  results.  The 
path  to  modern  methods  was  opened  up  by  the  Continental 
matheuiaticiai;s,  whoso  great  work  consisted  in  reducing 
the  problem  to  one  of  pure  algebra.  Tho  cha;;in  between 
the  laws  of  motion  laid  down  by  Newton  and  a  problem 
of  algebra  seems  so  difficult  to  bridge  over  thst  it  is  worth 
while  10  show  in  what  the  real  spirit  of  the  modern  metho.; 
cousi.sts.  We  call  to  mind  the  statement  of  Newton's  first 
two  laws  of  motion  :  that  a  body  uninfluenced  by  any  force 
moves  in  a  straight  line  and  with  uniform  velocity  for  ever, 
and  that  the  change  of  motion  is  proportional  to  the  forte 
impressed  upon  tho  body  and  in  the  directioji  of  such 
force.  These  two  laws  admit  of  being  expressed  in  alge- 
braic language  thus : — let  us  put  m  the  mass  of  a  material 
point;  X  its  distance  from  any  fixed  plane  whatever;  ; 
the  time ;  X  the  sum  of  the  components  of  all  the  forces 
acting  upon  the  point  in  the  direction  perpendicular  to  the 
fLxod  plane,  it  being  supposed  that  each  force  is  resolved 
into  three  mutually  perpendicular  component.s,  one  of  which 
is  perpendicular  to  the  fixed  plane ;  then  the  differential 
equation 

<Px      -, 

expresses  Newton's  fir;/c  tvro  la,ws  of  motion  with  a  com- 
pleteness and  precision  which  is  entirely  wanting  in  ail 
statements  in  ordinary  language.  The  latter  can  be  no- 
thing more  than  lame  attempts  to  e."q5vess  tho  equation  in 
language  which  may  be  understood  by  the  non-mathe- 
matical reader,  but  which  bear  the  same  relation  to  the 
algebraic  equation  that  a  statement  of  tho  operations  of 
the  Bank  of  England  in  the  symbolic  language  of  a  tribe 
of  savages  would  bear  to  the  bank  statement  in  pound.';, 
shillings,  and  pence.  By  taking  two  other  planes,  perpen- 
dicular to  each  other  and  to  the  first  plane,  wo  have  three 
equations  like  the  one  last  written.  The  law  of  gravitation 
and  Newton's  third  law  of  motion  enable  us  to  substitute 
for  X  and  the  other  forces  the  masses  and  coordinates  c! 
the  various  attracting  bodies.  Thus  the  data  of  the  problem 
are  expressed  by  a  triplet  of  three  equations  for  each  attract  ■ 
ing  body.  The  integration  of  these  equations  is  a  problem  t^f 
pure  algebra,  which,  when  solved,  leads  to  expressions  thr  ■ 
give  the  position  of  each  body  in  terms  of  the  time,  whicl: 
is  what  is  wanted.  The  special  form  which  it  is  necessary 
to  give  the  equations  has  not  been  radically  changed  durint- 
the  century  and  a  half  since  tliis  method  of  research  wa.'- 
opened  out.  Tlie  end  aimed  at  is  the  algebraic  expression 
of  all  the  quantities  involved  in  the  form  of  an  infinit- 
series  of  terms,  each  consisting  of  a  constant  coefBcien; 
multiplied  by  the  sine  or  cosine  of  an  angle  increasiii; 
uniformly  with  tho  time.  It  is  indeed  a  remarkable  fa* : 
that,  notwithstanding  tho  great  advances  which  moder.- 
uiathematics  has  made  in  tho  discovery  of  functions  mo!'. 
general  than  the  old-fashioned  sines  and  cosines  of  eh 
mentary  trigonometry,  especially  of  elliptic  functions,  ye: 
the  form  of  development  adopted  by  the  mathematicians  Oi 
ths  la.st  century  has  remained  without  essential  change. 

It  will  bu  iiistrHctive  to  ucticc  tlio  general  and  simple  property 
of  the  tiigonomctric  fKnotious  to  which  is  due  their  great  advaii- 
t:ige  ill  the  problcias  of  celestial  me^^baiiics.     It  nijiy  be  exprcsscii 
thus : — J/vc  harr,  any  numlcr  of  qimiUilies,  each  ofichkh  is  a 
nrcsscd  iii  the  fiinii  of  a  tn'goiioiiictrie  series  in  whicli  tJii  angh- 
increeiss  niii/orudi/  with  the  ti^ne,  then  all  the  jioicers  and  yrodue!  • 
of  these  quantities,  and  all  their  ih'fcrcntiah  and  integrals  v>il'< 
respect  to  the  time,  may  ie  expressed  in  scries  of  the  snmcfcnn.    Tiii- 
theorem  needs  ouly  au  illustration  by  an  exnmplo.     Let  our  quan- 
tities be  X  and  Y,  and  let  U3  suppose  them  expressed  in  the  form 
X  =  a  cos  A  +  h  cos  JD  +  e  cos  C'+,  kf. 
Y—a'  sin  A' -¥1'  sin  E  +  c'  ."in  &+,  kc, 
in  which  we  may  suppose  that  the  quantities  a,  h,  e,  kc,  converge 
towards  zero.     In  forming  their  product,  the  first  term  wiU.bc 


n  o  o  is: 


801 


oa'  cos  A  iia  A',      But  tto  hive  cos  v<  sin  ^'=i   Bin  (.'1'  +  ^;) 
+  i  sin  (^'  -  A).     HcEce  ths  product  j:  r  will  bo  of  the  form 

X r=  i  ««' siE (^'  +  ^)  + 1  oa'sin {A' -  A)-i-\aVsxn{A+Il' ^ ),&c., 
which  is  anotlier  series  of  tbe  samo  general  form.  Moreover,  if 
■we  siii/pose  the  angles  A,  B,  &c.,  to  increase  uniformly  with  the 
time— that  is,  to  admit  of  expression  in  the  form 

we  shall  haTC,  by  integratini?, 

"O'  ,11  .^      L 

r,cos;^-!-X)-    ,_      cos(yi  -A),  &C, 


2rzr<a=-~r^,' 


which,  again,  is  a  trigonometric  scries  of  the  same  general  form, 
which  admits  of  being  manipulated  at  pleasure  in  the  same  way 
as  the  origijid  cxoressious  X  and  Y.  This  proper*)'  does  not 
belong  to  the  elliptic  functions,  and  in  conse<iuence,  notwith- 
standing the  great  length  of  the  trigonomctiic  series,  no  attempt 
to  supersede  them  has  been  successful. 

The  efforts  to  express  the  moon's  motion  by  integrating 
the  differential  equations  of  the  djTiamical  theory  may  bo 
divided  into  three  classes.  (1)  Laplace  and  his  immediate 
successors  found  the  problem  so  complex  that  they  sought 
to  simplify  it  by  reversing  its  form  ;  instead  of  tiding  from 
the  beginning  to  express  the  moon's  coordinates  in  terras  of 
the  time,  they  effected  the  integration  by  expressing  the 
time  in  terms  of  the  moon's  true  longitude.  Then,  by  a 
reversal  of  the  series,  the  longitude  was  expressed  in  terms 
of  the  time.  Although  it  would  be  hazardous  to  say  that 
this  method  is  unworthy  of  further  consideration,  we  must 
admit  that  its  essential  inelegance  is  such  as  to  repel  rather 
than  attract  study,  and  that  it  holds  out  no  promise  of 
further  development.  (3)  By  the  second  general  method 
the  moon's  :oordinates  are  obtained  in  terms  of  the  time 
by  the  dire;t  integration  of  the  differential  equations  of 
motion,  retaining  the  algebraic  symbols  which  express  the 
values  of  the  various  elements.  Most  of  the  elements  are 
small  numerical  fractions  :  e,  the  eccentricity  of  the  moon's 
orbit,  about  0055  ;  e,  the  eccentricity  of  the  earth's  orbit, 
about  0'017 ;  y,  the  sine  of  half  the  inclination  of  the  moon's 
orbit,  about  0i)'16 ;  m,  the  ratio  of  the  mean  motions  of 
the  moon  and  earth,  about  0'075  ;  and  the  expressions  for 
the  longitude,  latitude,  and  parallax  appear  as  an  infinite 
trigonometiic  series,  in  which  the  coefficients  of  the  sines 
and  cosines  are  themselves  infinite  series  proceeding  accord- 
ing to  the  powers  of  the  above  small  numbers.  This 
method  was  applied  with  success  by  Pontecoulant  and 
Sir  John  W.  Lul.bock,  and  afterwards  by  Delaunay.  It 
should  be  remarked  that  the  solution  by  the  first  method 
appears  in  the  same  form  as  by  this  one  after  the  true 
longitude  is  expressed  in  terms  of  the  mean  longitude. 
(3)  By  the  method  jjst  mentioned  the  series  converge  so 
slowly,  and  the  final  expressions  for  the  moon's  longitude 
are  so  long  and  complicated,  that  the  series  has  never  been 
carried  far  enough  to  insure  the  accuracy  of  all  the  terms. 
This  is  especially  tbe  case  with  the  development  in  powers 
of  m,  the  convergence  of  which  has  often  been  questioned. 
Hence,  when  numerical  precision  alone  is  aimed  at,  it  has 
been  found  best  to  avoid  this  difficulty  by  using  the 
numerical  values  of  the  elements  instead  of  their  algebraic 
symbols.  This  method  has  the  advantage  of  leading  to 
the  more  rapid  and  certain  determination  of  the  numerical 
values  of  the  several  coefficients  or  sines  and  cosines.  It 
has  the  disadvantage  of  giving  the  solution  of  the  problem 
only  for  a  particular  case,  and  of  being  inapplicable  in 
researches  in  which  the  general  equations  of  dynamics  have 
to  be  a  pplied.  It  has  been  employed  by  Damoiseau,  Hansen, 
and  Airy. 

The  methods  of  the  second  general  class  are  those  most 
worthy  of  study.  And  among  these  we  must  assign  the 
•rst  rank  to  the  method  of  Delaunay,  developed  in  his 
Thiorie  du  Mauvement  de  la  Lune,  because  it  contains  a 
germ  which  may  yet  develop  into  the  great  desideratum  of 
a  general  fnethod  in  celestial  mechanics.  To  explain  it, 
we  must  call  to  mind  the  general  method  of  "  variation  of 


elements,"  due  to  Lagrange.  This  method  is  applicable  to 
cases  in  which  a  problem  of  dynamics  can  be  completely 
solved  when  any  small  forces  which  come  into  play  are 
left  out,  but  which  does  not  admit  of  direct  solution  when 
these  forces  are  included.  Omitting  the  small  forces, 
commonly  called  "  disturbing  forces,"  let  us  suppose  the 
problem  of  the  motion  of  a  body  under  the  influence  of  the 
"  principal  forces "  completely  solved.  This  will  mean 
that  we  have  found  algebraic  expressions  for  the  coordi- 
nates which  determine  the  position  of  the  body  in  terms 
of  the  time,  and  (in  the  case  of  a  material  point)  of  six 
constant  quantities,  to  which 'we  may  assign  values  at 
pleasure.  Then  Lagrange  showed  how,  by  supposing 
these  constant  quantities  to  become  variable,  the  same 
expressions  could  be  used  for  the  case  in  which  the  effect 
of  the  disturbing  forces  was  included.  In  other  words,  the 
effect  of  the  disturbing  forces  could  be  determined  by 
assuming  them  to  change  the  constants  of  the  first  approxi- 
mate solution  into  very  slowly  varying  elements. 

In  the  researches  on  the  lunar  theory  before  Delaunay 
the  principal  f  oice  was  taken  to  be  the  attraction  of  the  earth 
upon  the  moon,  and  the  disturbing  force  was  that  due  to 
the  sun's  attraction..  When  the  action  of  the  earth  alone 
was  included  the  moon  would  move  in  an  ellipse,  in  accord- 
ance with  Kepler's  laws.  The  effect  of  the  sun's  action 
could  be  allowed  for  by  supposing  this  ellipse  to  be  mov- 
able and  variable.  But  when  it  was  required  to  express 
this  variation  the  problem  became  excessively  complicated, 
owing  to  the  great  number  of  terms  required  to  express 
the  sun's  disturbing  force.  Now,  instead  of  passing  from 
the  elliptic  to  the  disturbed  motion  by  one  single  difficvilt 
step,  Delaunay  effected  the  passage  by  a  great  number  of 
easy  steps.  Out  of  several  hundred  periodic  terms,  the 
sum  of  which  expressed  the  disturbing  force  of  the  sun, 
he  first  took  one  only,  and  determined  the  variations  of 
the  Keplerian  ellipse  on  the  supposition  that  this  term 
was  the  only  one.  In  the  solution  the  variable  eleibents 
of  the  ellipse  would  be  expressed  in  terms  of  six  new  con- 
stants. "  He  then  showed  how  the.se  new  constants  could 
be  taken  as  variables  instead  of  the  elements  of  the  original 
ellipse.  Taking  a  second  term  of  the  disturbing  force,  he 
expressed  the  new  constants  in  terms  of  a  third  set  of  con- 
stants, and  so  repeated  the  process  until  all  the  terms  of 
the  disturbing  force  were  disposed  of. 

Among  applications  of  the  third  or  numerical  method, 
the  most  successful  yet  completed  is  that  of  Hansen. 
His  first  work  appeared  in  1838,  under  the  title  Funda- 
matta  nova  investigationis  orbitee  vera  quam  luna  perlustrat, 
and  contained  an  exposition  of  his  ingenious  and  peculiar 
methods  of  computation.  During  the  twenty  years  follow- 
ing he  devoted  a  large  part  of  his  energies  to  the  numerical 
computation  of  the  lunar  inequalities,  the  re-determination 
of  the  elements  of  motion,  and  the  preparation  of  new, 
tables  for  computing  the  moon's  position.  In  the  latter" 
branch  of  the  work,  he  received  material  aid  from  the 
British  Government  which  published  his  tables  on  their 
completion  in  1857.  The  computations  of  Hansen  were 
published  some  seven  years  later  by  the  Saxon  Royal 
Society  of  Sciences. 

It  is  found  on  Comparing  the  results  of  Hansen  and 
Delaunay  that^  there  are  some  outstanding  discrepancies, 
which,  though  too  small  to  be  of  great  practical  importance, 
are  of  sufficient  magnitude  to  demand  the  attention  of 
those  interested  in  the  mathematical  theory  of  the  subject. 
It  is  therefore  desirable  that  the  numerical  inequalities 
should  be  again  determined  by  an  entirely  different  method. 
This  is  the  object  of  Sir  G.  B.  Airy's  Mvtnerical  Lunar 
Theory,  which  is  not  yet  completely  published,  but  is 
sufficiently  far  advanced  to  give  hopes  of  an  early  comple- 
tion. '^^  The    essence  of   Sir   George's   method  consbts  in 


10—29 


«02 


starting  with  a  provisional  approamate  solution  (that  cf 
Delaunay  bemg  accepted  for  the  purpose)  andlubs  tutin. 
me^tTSZi^^  ''^  -on's  c'oor'dinairf;  thf  S 
u  uy  ine  sun.  it  the  theory  wera  perfect  the  two 
«des  of  each  equation  would  come  out  equa     '1^  thiy 

in  tne  lorni.   mat  corrections  must  be  applied  to  the 

Te  fouThl     1  °  '''°''"  ^°'^  ''^^^^  corrections  may 

be  found  by  solving  a  system  of  equations.  ^ 

solvinl  th„  ..?  K  f?-  .■^°  .°,"'"  "^''■"<'^'  the  question  is  that  of 
el'IwfnnL^  f/,"!^  problem  of  three-bodies »  ia  the  speci! 
tKo  her  two  and  i,1'"'  ""1™"'  ''"^  "  '""^''  S^^^'"  ^^=^  ^an 
they  are  fril'^^  ,^  "  "^'n''  S"'""'"  '^'''"'"™  f™™  them  than 
cney  are  from  each  other.  All  methods  lead  to  a  solution  of  tho 
same  geueral  form  which  we  shall  now  describe      Lot  us  nut  r  the 

£i5Meor£=— ^-SS 

wio  eaiti!  and  of  the  earth  round  the  iun,  while  u>  and  0,'  r^m-^i^ 
InyTLJtr  ''™^lf  '^  '"''^"  °f ''"^  ac'tiln  of  ae  sun  iS 
quence  ft  e  m  "^'  T'  "^  r  "f"^"™'  r'-og.'essiye  motion.  lu  cons" 
movin';  emnf  ^  '"'"'  °^  "''  °'°°"  "-"""d  "'«  '^"'h  becomes  a 
SrS  f„  Ihff  ■^°''  "'J°'  ""'^  ""kes  a  revolution  round  the 
earth  in  about  nine  years,  and  the  lino  of  whose  nodes  make,  a 
i-evolution  m  about  eighteen  and  a  half  yeair  All  ?heon^,r?l« 
^Z^^I^^^r^'  "^  -^J-  aSritsticentri:   ;   atd 

?ni^tbe  ^^?  '  «=<^l'P"=-remain  absolutely  constant  however 

^a  moon  there  are  ,>ori?drc  de'vir'Sns  ffom   hi^'e  Upt"t"i:h  mav 

.  ■;  (sin  or  cos)  {ig  +  ,y  +_;■„  +_,■■„•)_ 

]VTtd^'JT^'"''"'r.^'^"'^''''^y  '=™^'^"*  coeffioients,  and 
-liiittve  ^r^t^vl^Jr^ ?hY*t^:L"rr^^^^^^^^ 

Jo^%he^;:x^"fef„r^"nv^^^^^ 

L  |p?:^n:Yi-g?^ij-.i^:t?x''oi^:te^t-5 

the  other  odd  m  he  case  of  the  latitude.     For  examp™  if  we  sun- 
pose  J,  J,  and,  aU  zero,  we  shaU  have  terms  of  the  form  ^ 

c,  sin  </  f  cj  sin  Zg'  +  Cj  sin  V  + ,  ic. 

fom  '"""  °'^"  *'™''  '"PP°''  '  =  ^'  "'^"  "■'  h«™  to^s  of  the 

e,  sin  (a-s'^  +  c,  .-ia  (y +  ;,•)  +  «,  sin  (g  +  2g')  +  ,  &c. 


MOON 


discrepancy  had  to>e  sought  for.     A  probabir cai^w^  plted 
ilterwards  bv  Delannav      Ti,.  f„_  — 


the^m^  **"'  '"''  ^'^<"'>=2  and  /=  -2,  wo  shall  have' terms  of 

"hsin(i/-!/  +  2u,-2.,')  +  »Hsin(ff-2^  +  2<^-2a,')  +  ,  ic. 
Jfer      w""        '  V"'  A  """^-i'  '""=°™''  '^''«"'  "^0  coefficients  c,  e,  m, 
theonesol  Hansen  and  Delaunay  amount  to  several  hundreds.     In 

dents"  J  rl  r"''^  ''r°  ?f-  "/  ^"''''^"^y-  ^^'^'>  "^  *"  ^^ffi' 
cients  c,  cm,  ic,  13  a  co-r.,pheated  mfinite  series,  but  in  the  numerical 
theones  it  is  a  constant  number.     And  the  principal  probTem  of 

ffidrt  Wea  r:f,h  '^r  "^^^T  '?  "•  «"<!  the^ppr^oprlate  co 
emcient  lor  each  ol  thece  hundreds  of  terms 

AcUon  of  the  Planets  m.  tlu:  Moon.-For  nearly  two  centuries  it 

has  been  known  from  observations  that  the  mean  motion  of  the 

moon  round  the  earth  is  not  absolutely  constant,  as  it  on  °ht  to 

be  were  there  no  disturbing  body  but  the  sun.     The  general  fact 

that  the  motion  has  been  accelerated  since  the  time  of  Ptolemv 

was  first  pomteJ  out  by  Halley,  and  the  amount  of  the  accelera  bn 

was  found  by  Dunthorne.    After  vain  efforts  by  the  greatest  ma  he 

matcians  of  the  last  century   to  find  a  physical  cause  for  the 

acceleration,  Laplace  was  successful  in  tracing  it  to  the  secular 

diminution  of  the  occ.-ntncity  of  the  earth's  orbit,  produced  by  the 

action  of  tho  planets.     He  computed  its  amount   to  be  lo''  per 

century— that  is,  if  the  place  of  the  moon  were  calculated  forward 

on  Its  mean  motion  ;  t  the  beriuning  of  any  century,  it  would  at 

tlio  end  of  tho  century  bo  10'  in  advance  of  its  computed  place 

I  his   theoretical   ivult  of  Laplaco  agreed   so   closely  with   the 

acceleration  found  by  Lalando  from  the  records  of  ancient  and 

niedia;val  cclinses  that  it  was  not  questioned  for  nearly  a  century 

In  1652  llr  John  C.  A.lams  showed  that  Laplaco  had  failed  to 

iAo  account  of  a  scries  of  terms,  the  clTect  of  wliich  was  to  reduce 


out    £st  bv  F  ..  1        7*ff   i°r.     A  probable  causa  was  pointed 
oui,  nrst  by  t'errel,  and  afterwards  bv  Delaumv      T),=  iv.™ 
in  papere  published  in  Gould's  MtronomimJouIn^r.  A        .■^' 

t  me.     Since,  as  the  days  became  longer,  the  moon  would  move 

I  rltX^  ■  """^  ^'T  ""  "PP"*^"'  acceleration  would  be  he?e°dt 
That  this  cause  really  acts  there  can  be  no  doubt.     But  the  Jata 

^p^l^ZlS-d"^J^-£i54!;£=? 

the  obseived  acceleration  to  be  accoimted  for  by  the  tidal  JetprHr 
tion  amounts  to  onlv  2"  twr  ,.oT>t,„.„  "-u  lui  uy  loe  imai  rctarda- 
th;„  «^,ii  1      ^■'      .™    centuiy,  and  may  be  even  less      But 

S:;X"m=^^rs'u^;U\tlro7t^ol^^^^^ 

notably  the  echpse  asL'ciated '^°S? V/ n  m    of'ISef  *Thkl: 

which  had  been  predicted  ty  ThJes  f  the  W  ,  I  "^f^'^' 
efficient  resulting'  from  the  combined  efi^ec  of  HM  rl?  1  '^^  "", 
the  earth  and  secular  acceleration  of  tt  m„„n  I  1     'Sn^lV 

ni  near  the  value  found  by  Hansen  from  theon'  and  ad  '  Zj'?'' 

pll£teal%Ze"^oY^hlt=itI^^^^^^ 

day  to  be  constant,  is,  according  to  Ddaunay    !  c"-]  76 

Hansen  s  value,  in  his  Tables  de  1%  Lmu,  is  la-iR 

Hansen  s  revised  but  still  theoretically  erroneous  resui't'is  lo-jg 

mnfT/V"''?o^?V'''P'''='^'"^  ^^  ^"PP-'^^'l  eclipsed 

Tifi  I  „T  r    '•  '->  ^\  ^"'^'  (^'  ="  Stikkefstad,  is  about  11 7 

?|rplJ^Ztt^uZ^^t--;Sone    "^ 
The  n-oon  lound  rl"'      ";r  "^'™,S  P"'°'^  ^  «1>^  »^»  motion  of 

^™?sp'\,;f^„r'i„dis;:?\,-'ij--tjtir'^ 

^|:^™^p-L;-:-na-i-^/S} 
in  183o,  disputed  the  rea  ty  of  the  ineoualitv  fint  IwTt' 
us  discussion  of  the  Greenwich  obse'vXlif  ietw"  n""  -po'Z 
1830,  conclusively  proved  its  existence.  About  the  same  «Sb 
Hansen  announced  that  he  had  found  from  O.cory  two TeL^? 

Z/^".°^.,''"""S  '^'r  ""^  ^'=«°"  of  Venus  whch  fully  ™rre 
sponded  to  the  inequalities  indicated  by  the  observations  Thl» 
terms,  as  employed  in  hie  Tables  dc  la  Lnc,  are 

'?!,''?i  ^;"  (-?-16?'  +  18<7"  +  33°  36') 
+  21  -47  sin  (8y'-13y'+4°44'), 

'  il^7^'''',V'  ^'i  i'.""  ""  "P'^'^sent  the  mean  anomalies  of  the  moon, 
the  earth,  and  A  enus  respectively.  Durinu  the  first  few  v„„ 
after  the  publication  of  Hknsens  tables  they  represented  ohJII 
tions  so  well  that  their  entire  correctne  s^  argei^^allf  t^ken 
for  panted.  But  donbt  soon  began  to  be  thfo™  upon  the 
inequalities  of  long  t>criod  just  mentioned.  Indeed  Hansen 
himself  admitted  that  tie  second  and  lai-ger  terra  was  par  iy  emrir" 
cal  being  taken  so  as  to  satisfy  observations  between  1750  iid  1S50 
Delaunay  re-connvuted  both  terms,  and  found  for  the  firsTterm  a 
result  substantially  identical  with  that  of  Hansen.  But  he  f^nd 
for  he  second  or  empirical  one  a  coefficient  of  only  0"  27.  S 
would  be  quite  insensi\,le.     AVith  this  smaller  coefficient  tho  ohs^T^ 

tions  could  go  in  deciding  a  purely  mallieraatical  question  the 
evidence  was  in  fa^nr  of  Hansen's  result.  But  oT  compkr  ng 
Hansen  9  tables  with  observations  between  1650  and  1750  it  waf 
found  tliat  the  supposed  agreement  with  observation  was  entire^ 
Illusory  Moreover,  since  1865  the  moon  has  been  steadily  faSnK 
behind  the  tabular, place.  These  inequalities  of  long  period  lav! 
not  yot  been  satisfactodly  explained.  The  most  plaufiKipposi 
t.on  ^  that  they  are'duo  to  tho  action  of  one  or  more  of  the Tar^e; 
planets.     But  the  problem  of  the  action  of  tho  planX  on  the  Zon 


M  0  0  —  M  O  O 


803 


ifl  the  most  difficult  and  intricate  of  celestial  mechanics,  and  do 
Batisfactofy  p-neral  method  of  attacking  it  has  yet  beeu  found. 
The  soarces  of  difl:"c;ilty  are  two  in  number.  First,  the  disturbing 
action  of  t'la  planets  is  modified  by  that  of  the  sun  in  such  a  way 
that  tha  ordinary  equations  of  disturbed  elliptic  motion  aro  no 
longer  rigorous,  and  hence  new  and  more  complicated  ones  must 
be  cccritructed.  And,  secondly,  the  combination  of  the  four  bodies 
— moin,  earth,  sun,  and  planot — leads  to  terms  so  numerous  and 
intricate  that  it  has  haroly  been  found  possible  to  isolate  them. 
The  question  has,  indeed,  been  raised  whether  the  rotation  of  the 
earth  on  its  iixis,  and  hence  the  unit  of  time,  may  not  be  subject  to 
slow  and  irregular  changes  of  a  nature  to  produce  apparent  corre- 
Sjwnding  changes  in  the  motion  of  the  mocn.  Blit  it  has  recently 
been  (bund,  from  a  discussion  of  the  observed  transits  of  Mercury 
since  1677,  that,  although  such  inequalities  may  exist,  they  cannot 
have  the  magnitude  necessarj'  to  account  for  the  observed  changes 
of  long  period  in  the  moon's  motion. 

The  following  is  a  summary  of  the  present  state  of  the  various 
ai-anshes  of  the  lunar  theory.  (1)  The  numerical  solution  of  the 
problem  of  the  sun's  action  on  the  moon  may  be  regarded  as  quite 
satisfactory,  at  least  when  Hansen's  results  shall  have  been  veiified 
by  an  independent  method.  (2)  Tlie  analytic  theory  needs  to  bo 
perfected  by  finding  some  remedy  for  the  slow  convergence  of  the 
series  by  which  it  is  expressed,  but  its  general  form  may  be  regarded 
as  quite  satisfactory.  (3)  .Except  in  one  or  two  special  cases,  the 
action  of  the  planets  on  the  moon,  when  treated  with  the  necessary 
rigour,  is  so  intricate  that  no  approach  to  a  satisfactory  solution 
has  yet  been  attained.  "When  this  desideratum  is  reached,  the 
mathematical  theory  will  be  complete.  (4)  The  general  discussion 
of  ancient  and  modern  observations  with  a  view  to  finding  what 
real  or  apparent  inequalities  of  long  period  in  the  mean  motion  may 
exist  is  stiU  to  be  finished.  'With  it  the  astronomical  theory  will  be 
complete.  (S.  N.) 

MOORCROFT,  William  (c  1770-1825),  traveUer  in 
Asia,  was  bora  in  Lancashire,  about  1770.  He  was  edu- 
cated as  a  surgeon  in  Liverpool,  but  on  completing  his 
•ourse  he  resolved  to  devote  himself  to  veterinary  surgery, 
and,  after  studying  the  subject  in  France,began  its  practice 
in  London.  In  1 795  he  published  a  pamphlet  of  directions 
for  the  medical  treatment  of  horses,  with  special  reference 
to  India,  and  in  1800  a  Cursory  Account  of  the  Methods  of 
Shoeing  Horses.  Having  been  offered  by  the  East  India 
Company  the  inspectorship  of  their  Bengal  stud,  Moorcroft 
left  England  for  India  in  1808.  Under  his  care  the  stud 
rapidly  improved  ;  in  order  to  perfect  the  breed,  he  resolved 
to  undertake  a  journey  into  Central  Asia  to  obtain  a  stock 
of  Turcoman  horses.  In  company  with  Captain  William 
Hearsay,  and  encumbered  with  a  stock  of  merchandise  for 
the  purpose  of  establishing  trade  relations  between  India 
and  Central  Asia,  Moorcroft  left  Josimath,  well  within  the 
mountains,  on  26th  May  1812.  Proceeding  along  the  valley 
of  the  DauU,  they  reached  the  summit  of  the  frontier  pass 
of  Niti  on  1st  July.  Descending  by  the  towns  of  Daba 
and  Ghortope,  Moorcroft  struck  the  main  upper  branch  of 
the  Indus  near  its  source,  and  on  5th  August  arrived  at 
the  sacred  lake  of  Manasarowara.  Returning  by  Bhutin, 
he  was  detained  some  time  by  the  Giirkhas,  and  reached 
Calcutta  in  November.  This  journey  only  served  to  whet 
Moorcroft's  appetite  for  more  extensive  travel,  for  which 
he  prepared  the  way  by  sending  out  a  young  Hindustani, 
who  succeeded  in  making  very  extensive  explorations.  In 
company  with  this  young  man  and  George  Trebeck,  Moor- 
croft set  out  on  his  second  journey  in  October  1819.  His 
enterprise  was  looked  upon  rather  coldly  by  the  directors, 
who  merely  allowed  him  his  pay  for  a  time,  all  the  expenses 
being  borne  by  Moorcroft  himself.  By  way  of  Almori  Snd 
Srlnagar,  Lahore  was  reached  on  6th  May  1820.  On  14th 
August  the  source  of  the  Biyah  (Hyphasis)  was  discovered, 
and  subsequently  that  of  the  Chenib.  Leh,  the  capital  of 
Lad.lk,  was  reached  on  24th  September,  and  here  several 
months  v.ere  spent  in  exploring  the  surrounding  country. 
A  commercial  treaty  was  concluded  with  the  Government 
of  Laddk,  by  which  the  whole  of  Central  Asia  was 
virtually  opened  to  British  trade.  Kashmir  was  reached 
on  3d  November  1822,  and  by  the  P(r  Panjil  mountains 
JalAldbad  on  4th  June  1824,  Cabul  on  20th  Ji'ije,  and  by 


Khulm,  Kunduz,  and  Balkh  Moorcroft  arrived  at  Bokhara 
on  25th  February  1825.  Everj'where  he  bought  horse.'* 
for  the  company,  and  endeavoure.'l  to  establish  trade 
relations.  At  Andkho  in  Cabul  Moorcroft  was  seized 
■n-ith  fever,  of  which  he  died  on  27th  August  1825,  Trebeck 
s'orviving  him  only  a  few  days.  It  was  not  till  several  years 
afterwards  that  his  papers  were  obt.->,iaed  by  the  Asiatic 
Society,  and  published  under  the  editorship  of  Horace 
Hayman  Wilson  in  1841  under  the  title  of  Travels  in  the 
Himalayan  Provinces  of  Hindustan  and  the  Pitnj&b,  in 
Ladakh  and  Kashmir,  in  Peshawnr,  Kabul,  Kunduz,  and 
Bokhara,  from  1819  to  1825.  Though  published  so  long 
after  the  traveller's  death,  the  narrative  was  a  valuable 
contribution  to  a  knowledge  of  Central  Asia,  and  still 
remains  a  classic.  In  vol.  xii.  of  Asiatic  Researches  will 
be  foimd  an  account  by  Moorcroft  of  his  first  journey,  and 
in  the  Transactions  of  the  Royal  Asiatic  Society,  vol.  i.,  a 
paper  on  the  Purik  sheep. 

MOORE,  Edwajrd  (1712-1757),  minor  poet,  dramatist, 
and  miscellaqeous  writer,  was  the  son  of  a  dissenting  minis- 
ter of  Abingdon,  vrhere  he  was  born  in  1712.  He  was  the 
author  of  the  thrilling  domestic  tragedy  of  The  Gamester, 
originally  produced  in  1753  with  Garrick  in  the  leading 
character,  and  still  in  the  repertory  of  acting  plays.  It  is 
perhaps  the  strongest  lesson  against  gambling  ever  preached 
from  stage  or  pulpit.  The  literary  merit  of  the  play  is  not 
great,  but  it  is  powerfully  constructed  and  fuU  of  impressive 
incident,  and  the  career  of  Beverley  the  gambler  (a  character 
modelled  on  Fielding's  Captain  Booth)  affords  great  scope 
for  the  actor.  Moore  also  wrote  two  comedies.  As  a  poet 
he  produced  clever  imitations  of  Gay  and  Gray,  and 
with  the  assistance  of  Lj'ttelton,  Chesterfield,  and  Horace 
Walpole  conducted  The  World  (1753-57)  during  the  great 
decade  of  the  revival  of  periodical  essay- writing.  The  World 
followed  Johnson's  Rambler,  and  was  followed  by  The  Idler  ; 
it  had  as  rivals  The  Adventurer  and  The  Connoisseur.  Moore 
died  at  London  in  1757. 

MOORE,  Dr  John  (1730-1802),  bom  at  Stirlingin  1730, 
was  one  of  the  most  prominent  writers  of  travels  and  novels 
in  the  latter  part  of  the  18th  century.  His  novel  Zeluco 
(published  in  1789)  produced  a  powerful  impression  at  the 
time,  and  indirectly,  "through  the  poetry  of  Byron,  has  left 
an  abiding  mark  on  literatiu'e.  'The  novel  would  in  these 
days  be  called  a  psychological  novel ;  it  is  a  close  analysis  cf 
the  motives  of  a  headstrong,  passionate,  thoroughly  selfish 
and  dnprincipled  profligate.  It  is  fuU  of  incident,  and  tiie 
analysis  is  never  prolonged  into  tedious  reflexions,  nor 
suffered  to  intercept  the  progress  of  the  story,  while  ths 
main  plot  is  diversified  with  many  interesting  episode.^. 
The  character  took  a  great  hold  of  Byron's  imagination, 
and  probably  influenced  his  life  in  some  of  its  many  moods, 
as  well  as  his  poetry.  It  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  the 
common  opinion  that  Byron  intended  Childe  Harold  as  a 
reflexion  of  himself  cannot  be  cleared  of  its  large  mixture 
of  falsehood  without  a  study  of  Moore's  Zeluco.  BjTOn 
said  that  he  intended  the  Childe  to  be  "  a  poetical  Zeluco," 
and  the  most  striking  features  of  the  portrait  were  un- 
doubtedly taken  from  that  character.  At  the  same  time 
it  is  obvious  to  everybody  acquainted  with  Jloore's  novel 
and  Byron's  life  that  the  moody  and  impressionable  poet 
often  adopted  the  character  of  Zeliico,  fancied  himself  and 
felt  himself  to  be  a  Zeluco,  although  he  was  at  heart  a 
very  different  man.  Moore's  other  works  have  a  less 
marked  individuality,  but  his  sketches  of  society  and  man- 
ners in  France,  Germany,  Switzerland,  Italy,  and  England 
furnish  valuable  materials  for  the  social  historian.  Like 
his  countrymen  Burnett  and  Boswell,  he  was  a  sagacious, 
I  penetrating,  and  in  the  main  unprejudiced  observer,  with 
I  or.j-.otV.-'na'  of  a.  natural  historian's  interest  in  the  human 
r  suecies ;  and  he  had  exceptional  opportunitiesof  observation. 


804 


M  0.  0  E  E 


He  was  a  doctor  by  profession,  and  the  son  of  a  Stirling- 
shire ciergyman.  After  taking  his  medical  degree  at 
Glasgow,  he  served  with  the  army  in  Flanders,  then  was 
attached  to  the  household  of  the  English  ambassador  at 
Paris,  then  practised  for  five  years  in  Glasgow,  next 
travelled  on  the  Continent  for  five  years  with  a  young 
nobleman,  settled  for  some  years  as  a  physician  in  Lon- 
don, accompanied  Lord  Lauderdale  to  Paris  in  1792  and 
witnessed  some  of  the  principal  scenes  of  the  Revolution. 
All  classes  thus  came  under  hia  obser^'ation,  while  his  pro- 
fession preserved  him  in  an  xmusual  degree  from  flippant 
bias.  His  works  attest  great  shrewdness  and  sagacity  of 
judgment,  and  show  no  small  skill  in  literary  presentation. 
He  died  at  London  in  1802. 

MOORE,  Sir  Jon^r  (1761-1809),  the  ocly  EngUsh 
general  who  has  gained  lasting  fame  by  the  conduct  of  a 
retreat,  w.as  the  sou  of  Dr  Moore  (the  subject  of  the  pre- 
ceding notice),  and  was  born  at  Glasgow  on  13th  November 
1761.  It  wa.",  his  appointment  as  tutor  to  the  yOung  duke 
of  Hamilton  which  procured  for  John  Moore  educatic::al 
advantages  by  which  ho  profited  so  much  as  to  bs  called 
in  after  life  the  most  cultivated  oiEcer  in  the  army.  It 
was  then  the  fashion,  for  young  noblemen  to  travel  from 
court  to  court,  and  Moore  accompanied  his  father  and  the 
duke  to  all  the  chief  capitals  in  Europe,  until  he  was 
suddenly  ordered  in  1777  to  join  the  51st  regiment,  in 
which  he  had  been  appointed  an  ensign.  He  learned  his 
drill  at  Minorca,  and  in  177C  was  appointed  lieutenant  and 
paymaster  in  a  new  regiment  recenthr  raised  by  the  dulce 
of  Hamilton,  with  wljich  he  served  in  America  till  the  peace 
of  1783.  In  1781  Moore,  though  but  twenty-three  years 
of  age,  was  returned  by  the  duke  of  Hamilton  as  member 
of  parliament  for  the  united  boroughs  of  Selkirk,  Peebles, 
and  Linlithgow.  In  parliament  he  does  not  seem  to  have 
opened  his  mouth,  though  he  always  voted  with  the  Govern- 
ment ;  but  he  made  some  aseful  friends,  notably  the  duke 
of  York  and  Pitt.  In  1788  he  was  promoted  to  a  majority 
in  the  51st  regiment,  and  in  1790  he  became  lieutenant- 
colonel  and  resigned  his  seat  in  parliament.  He  soon  got 
his  regiment  in  fine  order,  and  in  1792  sailed  with  it  for 
the  Mediterranean.  He  was  too  late  to  assist  at  Toulon, 
but  was  engaged  throughout  the  operations  in  Corsica,  and 
especially  distinguished  himself  at  the  taking  of  Cah'i. 
After  the  expulsion  of  the  French,  Jloore  became  very  in- 
timate with  Paoli  and  many  of  the  leading  Corsican  patriots, 
which  intimacy  was  so  obno.xious  to  Sir  Gilbert  Elliot,  the 
viceroy,  that  Moore  was  ordered  to  leave  the  island  in  forty- 
eight  hours.  Sir  Gilbert's  hasty  conduct  by  no  means  met 
with  approval  in  LonHon,  and  Moore  was  gazetted  briga- 
dier-general, and  ordered  to  proceed  with  his  brigade  to 
the  West  Indies.  In  April  1796  he  readied  Barbados, 
and  at  once  became  the  right  hand  of  Sir  Ralph  Aber- 
cromby,  the  command#r-in-chief.  The  first  enterprise  was 
the  reconqucst  of  the  island  of  St  Lucia,  which  was  com- 
pletely occupied  by  an  agent  of  Victor  Huguos  with  a 
mixed  force  of  Caribs,  negroes,  and  Frenchmen.  The  key 
of  the  island  was  a  fortified  and  almost  impregnable  Iieight 
called  the  Mome  Fortune,  which  was  at  last  stormed,  tliough 
with  great  loss,  by  the  valour  of  brig.adier-geneial.^  Moore 
and  Hope,  who  were  to  bo  comrades  on  a  yet  more  memor- 
able field.  After  this  success,  Sir  Ralph  left  the  island, 
and  appointed  Moore  governor  and  commander-in-chief. 
A  difficult  post  ho  found  his  government,  owing  to  the 
swarms  of  Caribs  and  negroes  in  the  woods ;  but  just  as 
he  was  on  the  point  of  triumphing  he  fell  ill  of  yellow  fever, 
and  wiV  ordered  home.  In  1798  he  was  well  and  again 
eager  t(Jbe  on  active  service,  and  he  accompanied  his  friend 
Abercromby  over  to  Ireland,  where  he  received  the  com- 
mand of  tlie  Bandon  district.  In  the  Irish  rebellion  of 
1798  he  distinguished  himself  by  his  activity  in  saving 


Wezford  from  destruction  after  the  battle  of  Vinegpj  Hiff, 
His  services  were  in  universal  reqirest,  and  Aberorocaby 
insisted  upon  his  sers'ing  with  him  in  the  expedition  to  the 
Helder  in  179S,  where  he  did  creditably  all  that  wascredit;- 
ably  done  in  that  ill-managed  expedition.  On  his  retxira 
from  EoUand  he  was  n-.ide  colonel  of  the  52d  regiment, 
and  in  1800  accompanied  Abercromby  to  the  Mediteirauean 
as  major-general. 

Thj;onghout  the  Egyptian  expedition  he  commanded  the 
reserve,  and  especially  distinguished  himself  at  the  battle 
of  Alexandria,  when  he  was  wotmded  in  three  placo.%  and 
behaved  with  such  distinction  that  he  was  recognized  uui- 
versally  as  the  greatest  English  general,  now  that  Aber- 
cromby was  gone.  The  short  interval  of  the  peace  of 
Amiens  did  not  ii  jure  Moore's  prospects,  and  in  1 803  he 
was  appointed  commandant  of  the  camp  at  Storncliffe. 
Here  he  proved  his  gi'eatness  as  an  organizer,  for  it  was 
at  this  time  that  he  organized  those  light  regiments  which 
wei-e  to  form  the  reserve  in  his  own  campaign  and  the 
light  division  in  the  Peninsular  War.  While  at  Shomcliife 
he  renewed  his  intimacy  with  Pitt,  who  was  then  residing 
at  Walmer  Castle,  and  who  on  his  return  to  oiBce  made 
Moore  a  knight  of  the  Bath,  and  consulted  him  on  every 
military  project.  Fox,  when  he  succeeded  to  office,  showed 
the  same  appreciation  of  Moore,  and  in  May  1806  appointed 
him  second-in-command  to  his  brother,  General  Fox,  who 
was  ordered  with  a  strong  force  to  Sicily  to  supersede  Sir 
Jehu  Stuart.  MoOre  won  but  little  credit  at  this  time,  for 
there  was  none  to  gain,  but  employed  his  time,  according 
to  Napier,  in  falling  in  love  with  Miss  Fox,  to  whom, 
however,  he  never  proposed,  fearing  to  be  accepted  for  h  is 
Dosition  and  not  for  himself.  In  1807  he  was  able  to  escaiie 
from  the  intrigues  of  the  Sicilian  court,  and  was  ordered 
to  Portugal,  which  he  reached  too  late  to  make  any  defence 
of  Lisbon,  already  in  the  possession  of  the  French.  He 
then  went  home,  and  had  four  months'  rest,  the  last  he 
ever  had.  In  May  1808  he  was  ordered  with  a  force. of 
11,000  men  to  Sweden  to  assist  the  king  against  the  united 
forces  of  France  and  Russia.  The  mad  conduct  of  the 
Swedish  king,  however,  who  even  went  so  far  as  to  declare 
Sir  John  Moore  under  arrest  when  he  refused  to  acquiesce 
in  his  pla.ns,  ruined  any  chance  of  successful  co-operation, 
and  the  English  general  made  his  escape  and  returned  to 
England.  He  was  at  once  ordered  to  proceed  with  his 
division  to  Portugal,  where  Sir  Arthur  Wellesley  had 
already  landed;  but  the  appointment  of  Dairymple  and 
Burrard  to  the  chief  commands  was  even  more  of  a  slight 
on  Moore  as  a  general  of  European  experience  than  on 
Wellesley,  whose  laurels  had  hitherto  been  won  in  India. 
He  regarded  himself  as  personally  insulted  by  the  ministers, 
and  especially  by  Lord  Castlereagh,  but  deemed  it  his  duty 
to  go  where  he  was  ordered.  He  met  his  re^l■ard ;  for  when, 
after  the  excitement  caused  by  the  Convention  of  Cintra, 
Dairymple  and  Burrard  went  home,  he  was  left  in  com- 
mand of  the  largest  English  army  since  the  commencement 
of  the  war.  Wellesley  had  appreciated  him,  and  in  an 
interesting  letter  (pubUshed  in  the  Wellington  Despak-hes) 
had  expressed  his  desire  to  use  his  own  great  political 
influence  to  reconcile  him  to  the  ministers  and  the  minister.'! 
to  him 

Now  began  the  glorious  three  months  on  which  Moore's 
reputation  as  a  soldier  and  a  statesman  must  rest.  The 
Spaniards,  flushed  with  their  former  success  at  Baylcn, 
regarded  Napoleon,  \yho  had  in  person  crossed  the  PjTenees, 
as  another  Dupont,  and  loudly  summoned  Moore  to  a  share 
in  their  coming  victories.  Jloore  knew  better  what  was 
the  value  of  Napoleon's  genius,  but  he  had  been  commanded 
to  assist  the  Spaniards,  and  therefore  gave  the  order  to 
advance.  His  army  marched  in  four  distinct  divisions, 
and  on  13th  November  1808  he  coucectrated  at  Salar 


MOOR  E 


805 


manca,  -wliere  Tie  waited  to  see  What  would  Lappen.  He 
heard  that   a   subsidiai'y  force   under  Sir   David  Baird 

ha.l  arrived  at  Conmna,  and  ordered  it  up  to  join  him. 
At  Salamanca  he  rsmained  a  whole  monlh  watching  the 
{riiiMiphant  successes  of  Napoleon  and  his  lieutenants,  and 
learning  how  little  Spanish  reports  or  Spanish  valour  were 
to  be  relied  on.  Though  irritated  by  the  menaces  and 
abuse  of  Frere,  the  English  minister  to  the  junta,  he 
waited  till  the  13th  D-ecember,  hearing  daily  of  Spsinish 
defeats,  and  then  he  determined  to  drav/  off  upon  his  own 
small  force  the  weight  of  Napoleon's  power,  and  thus  give 
Andalucia  the  winter  in  which  to  organize  an  army  and 
prepare  for  another  Baylen.  With  this  intention  he 
advanced  through  Toro  and  Mayorga,  where  Baird  joined 
him,  to  Sahagun.  He  judged  rightly  that  Napoleon  would 
never  advance  into  Andalucia  and  leave  the  English  behind 
him,  but  that  he  would  turn  all  his  power  against  them. 
Having  once  drawn  Napoleon's  attention  to  hiciself,  he 
began  his  famous  retreat  and  fell  back  quickly,  fighting 
every  day  and  invariably  with  success.  He  now  could 
test  the  military  spirit  he  had  taught  at  Shomcliffe,  for 
the  reserve  under  Sir  Edward  Paget  consisted  entirely  of 
his  own  light  regiments.  To  detail  each  step  of  the  retreat 
and  every  skirmish  would  be  but  to  rewrite  Napier ;  suffice 
it  to  say  that,  with  great  loss  of  life  and  material,  Moore 
reached  Corunna  on  12th  January  1809.  But  the  fleet  to 
take  the  army  home  was  not  there ;  and  the  English  would 
have  to  fight  Soult,  whose  army  was  even  more  weakened 
and  demoralized  than  Moore's,  before  they  could  embark. 
It  was  on  16  th  January  that  Moore  fought  his  last  battle ; 
he  foil  early  in  the  day,  and  knew  at  once  that  his  wound 
was  mortal.  His  last  hours  were  cheered  with  the  know- 
lediSjc.  of  victory,  but  were  spent  in  recommending  his  old 
friends,  such  as  Graham  and  Colbome,  to  the  notice  of  the 
Government.  Sir  H.  Hardinge's  description  of  these  hours 
is  in  its  way  inimitable,  and  in  it  must  be  studied  how 
a  modem  Bayard  should  die  in  battle,  every  thought  being 
for  others,  none  for  himself. 

It  may  be  possible  in  the  face  of  his  hei'oic  deatli  to  exaggerate 
>loore'8  actual  military  services,  but  his  influence  on  the  Briiish 
army  cannot  be  overrated.  The  true  military  spirit  of  disciuline 
and  of  valour,  both  in  officers  and  men,  b^d  become  nearly  extinct 
dm*iag  the  American  war.  Aborcromby,  who  looked  bacV  to  the 
traditions  of  Minden,  was  the  first  to  attempt  to  revive  it,  and  his 
worfe  was  carried  on  by  Moore.  The  formation  of  the  light  regi- 
ments at  ShomclifTe  was  the  answer  to  the  new  French  tactics,  and 
it  was  left  to  Wellington  to  show  the  success  of  the  experiment. 
Moore's  powers  as  a  statesman  are  shown  in  his  despatches  written 
ot  Salamanca,  and  he  had  t!io  truest  gift  of  a  great  man,  th,at  of 
judgin"  men.  It  may  be  noticed  that,  while  V/cUington  perpetually 
c.-unibled  at  the  bad  qualities  of  his  officers  and  formed  no  school, 
Moore's  name  is  associated  with  the  career  of  all  who  made  their 
mark.  Among  generals,  Hope,  Graham,  Sir  E.  Paget,  Hill,  and 
Craufurd,  all  fell  and  submitted  to  his  ascendency,  and  of  younger 
oIlici-TS  it  was  ever  the  proud  boast  of  the  Napicrs,  Colborr.c,  the 
Beckwiths,  and  Barnard  that  they  were  the  pupils  of  Moore,  not  of 
Wellington.  Nay  more,  he  inspired  an  historian.  The  description 
of  Jloore's  retreat  in  Napier  is  per'naps  the  iinost  piece  of  military 
history  in  the  English  language,  not  only  because  the  author  was 
present,  but  because  his  heart  was  vnlh  the  leader  of  that  retreat ; 
and,  if  Napier  felt  towards  Wellington  as  the  soldiers  of  the  tenth 
legion  felt  towards  C.Tsar,  he  felt  towartis  Moore  the  personal  love 
and  devotion  of  a  cavalier  tow.irds  Montrose. 

The  great  authority  for  iloorc'a  life  is  the  Lifi  ff  Sir  John  Mo&rt,  by  !iis 
brother,  J.  0.  Moore  (1833) ;  see  also  SarrcUive  0/  the  Conpniyji  of  Sir  JoSn 
Jlfoore  in  Spain,  by  his  brother,  J.  C.  Moore  (4to,  with  pUn%  1&09) ;  Napier, 
Penlnt^tlar  War,  Bk.  iv.,  anU  his  Lift  of  Sir  CharUa  Napier.  For  views  advert 
to  Moore's  retreat,  see  Charrailly,  Narrative  (1810),  and  Sir  Battle  Frere,  tVA' 
0/  tiie  JU.  Hon.  J.  //.  Frere  (published  in  vol.  i.  of  his  worlis).  Consult  also 
Wilson,  Campaign  in  E^ypt,  for  Moore's  services  there,  and  the  Life  of  Giltur: 
Elliot,  First  Lord  IJinto,~toT  the  squabble  in  Corsica.  (H.  M.  S.) 

MOORE,  Thom.^s  (1779-1852),  bcm  at  DubUn  on  2Sth 
May  1779,  faiily  shares  with  Lord  Byron  the  honour  of 
beiiig  the  most  popular  "poet  of  his  generation.  Whatever 
may  be  thought  now  of  the  intrinsic  qualities  of  his  xeiso, 
this  much  cannot  be  denied.  The  most  trustworthy  of  all 
measures  of  popularity  is  the  price  put  upon  a  ■  .-ritei 's  work 


in  the  publishing  market,  and  when  Moore's  friend  Porry, 
in  negotiating  the  sale  of  the  unwritten  Lalia  Rookh, 
claimed  for  the  poet  the  highest  price  thai  had  up  to  that 
time  been  paid  for  a  poem  the  publisher  at  once  assented. 
Moore  was  then  in  the  heyday  of  his  reputation,  but  twenty 
years  later  publishers  were  still  willing  to  risk  their  thou- 
sands on  his  promise  to  produce.  Much  of  Moore's  success 
was  due  to  his  personal  charm.  This  at  least  gave  him 
the  start  on  his  road  to  popularity.  There  is  not  a  more 
extraordinary  incideni  in  the  history  of  our  literature  than 
the  instantaneousness  with  which  the  son  of  a  humble 
DubUn  grocer 'just  out  of  his  teens,  on  his  first  visit  to 
London,  captivated  the  fashionable  world  and  established 
himself  in  the  couise  of  a  few  months  as  one  of  its  prime 
favourites.  The  youth  crossed  St  George's  Channel  in"l799 
to  keep  terms  at  the  Middle  Temple,  carrying  with  him  a 
translation  of  the  Odes  of  Anacreon,  which  he  wished  to 
publish  by  subscription.  Li  a  very  short  time  he  had 
enrolled  half  the  fashionable  world  among  his  sub.scribers, 
and  had  obtained  the  permission  of  the  prince  of  Wales 
to  dedicate  the  work  to  him.  The  mere  power  of  writing 
graceful  and  fluent  amatory  verses  would  not  alone  have 
enabled  the  poet  to  work  this  miracle.  Moore's  social  gifts 
were  of  the  most  engaging  kind.  He  charmed  aU  whom  he 
met,  and  charmed  them,  though  he  was  not  a  trained 
musician,  with  nothing  more  than  with  his  singing  of  hi^i 
own  songs.  The  piano,  and  not  the  harp,  was  his  instru- 
ment, but  he  came  nearer  than  anybody  else  in  modem 
times  to  Bishop  Percy's  romantic  conception  of  the  minstreh 
To  find  a  parallel  to  him  we  must  go  back  to  the  palmy  days 
of  Provenfal  song,  to  •  .such  troubadcntrs  and  jonr/lettrs  as 
Axnaud  Daniel  and  Perdigon,  whose  varied  powers  of 
entertainment  made  them  welcome  guests  wherever  they 
went.  It  was  not  merely  the  fashionable  world  that  the 
young  adventujer  captivated ;  the  landlady  of  his  lodgings 
in  London,  a  countrywoman  of  his  o^vn,  offered  to  place  at 
his  disposal  all  the  money  of  which  she  had  the  command. 
The  fragment  of  autobiography  in  which  Moore  draws 
a  softly-coloured  picture  of  his  early  life  in  Dublin  lets  us 
into  the  secret  of  the  seeming  miracle  of  his  social  con- 
quest. Externals  apart,  the  spirit  of  his  social  surround- 
ings in  Little  Aungier  Street  had  much  in  common  with 
the  society  to  which  he  was  introduced  in  London.  He 
was  born  in  the  proscribed  sect  of  Catholics,  whose  exclu- 
sion from  the  society  of  the  Castle  produced  a  closer  union 
among  their  various  ranks,  and  thus,  from  the  first,  Moore 
was  no  stranger  to  the  more  refined  gaieties  of  social  inter- 
course. It  was,  upon  the  whole,  a  gay  life  in  Catholic  society, 
though  the  conspiracy  of  the  United  Irishmen  was  being 
quietly  formed  beneath  the  surface.  Amateur  theatricals 
was  one  of  their  favourite  diversions,  and  gifts  of  reciting 
and  singing  were  not  likely  to  die  for  want  of  applause. 
Moore's  schoolmaster  was  a  leader  in  these  entertainments, 
a  writer  of  prologues  and  epilogues  and  incidental  songs; 
and  at  a  very  early  age  Master  Thomas  Moore  was  one  of  his 
show-boys,  ardently  encouraged  in  all  his  exercises  by  a  very 
affectionate  mother  at  home.  Before  he  left  school  he 
had  acquired  fame  in  his  own  circle  as  a  song- writer,  and 
had  published,  in  the  Anthologia  Eibemica,  verses  "to 
Zelia  on  her  charging  the  author  with  vaiting  too  much 
on  love.'.'  This  was  in  1793.  In  that  year  the  prohibition 
against  Catholics  entering  Trinity  College  was  removed, 
and  nest  year  Moore  took  advantage  of  the  new  freedom. 
As  one  of  the  first  Catholic  entrants,  he  had  an  exceptional 
stimijlus  to  work,  and  there  industriously  acquired  that 
classical  scholarship  with  which  he  won  the  hearts  of  such 
learned  A\'higs  as  Lan'?do\vne  and  Holland,  while  he 
charmed  fashionable  ladies  >rith  the  grace  of  his  songs. 
Young  Moore's  .social  atmosphere  was,  of  course,  strongly 
charged  with   patriotism  and  hatred  of  the  excesses  of 


806 


MOORE 


English  despotism.  Some  of  his  closest  friends  in  Trinity 
were  deep  in  the  conspiracy  of  1798.  But  even  for  his 
patriotism — a  genuine  passion  which  he  never  sought  to 
disguise — Mooie  •  found  plenty  of  sympathy  among  the 
Whig  political  leaders,  when  he  made  their  acquaintance  in 
the  first  years  of  the  century. 

Moore  was  fairly  established  in  London  society  in  the 
£r3t  year  of  ' -e  century,  and  from  that  time  the  hope  of 
!its  applause  was  the  ruling  aspiration  of  his  life  and  its 
(judgment  the  standard  of  his  work.  In  his  letters  to  his 
mother,  which  are  delightful  prose  lyrics  and  show  the 
most  charming  side  of  Moore's  character— he  wrote  to  her 
constantly  and  with  warm  aflfection  in  his  busiest  weeks — 
we  find  him,  even  in  1800,  declaring  himself  surfeited 
with  duchesses  and  marchionesses,  and  professing  his 
readiness  at  any  moment  to  exchange  all  his  fineries  for 
Irish  stew  and  salt  fish.  But  he  never  did  make  the 
exchange,  even  for  more  potent  attractions  than  the  fare 
of  his  youth.  Ho  could  not  bear  the  shortest  banishment 
from  fashionable  dra\ving-rooms  without  imeasy  longings. 
The  dignity  and  ease,  the  luxury,  the  gaiety,  the  bright- 
ness of  fashionable  life,  whoUj'  satisfied  his  joyous  and  self- 
indulgent  nature.  When  men  of  rank  com-ted  his  company, 
when  princesses  sang  his  songs  and  peeresses  wept  at  them, 
Moore  was  too  frank  to  affect  indifJ'ereuce  ;  he  was  in  the 
highest  heaven  of  delight,  and  went  home  to  record  the 
incident  to  his  relatives  or  transmit  it  to  posterity  in  his 
diary.  If  prudence  whispered  that  he  was  frittering  away 
his  time  and  dissipating  his  energies,  he  persuaded  him- 
self that  his  conduct  was  thoroughly  worthy  of  a  solid 
man  of  business:  that  to  get  a  lucrative  appointment  from 
his  political  friends  he  must  keep  himself  in  evidence, 
and  that  to  make  his  songs  seU  he  must  give  them  a  start 
with  his  o\vn  voice.  But  his  mind  was  seemingly  not; 
much  troubled  either  ■ivith  sordid  care  or  with  sober  pru- 
dence ;  he  lived  in .  the  happy  pi'esent,  and  he  Liked 
fashionable  company  for  its  own  sake, — and  no  wondej, 
seeing  how  he  was  petted,  caressed,  and  admired.  Swift's 
saying  that  great  men  never  reward  in  a  more  substantial 
way  those  whom  they  make  the  companions  of  their  pleasures 
was  often  in  Moore's  mind.  It..was  verified  to  some  extent 
in  his  own  case.  Through  Lord  Moira's  Influence  he  was 
appointed  registrar  of  the  admiralty  court  in  Bermuda  in 
1803.  He  went  there  to  take  possession,  but  four  or  five 
months  of  West  India  society,  jingling  pianofortes,  and 
dusky  beauties  bored  him  excessively,  and  he  appointed  a 
deputy  and  returned  to  London,  after  little  more  than  a 
year's  absence.  The  office  continued  to  bring  him  about 
.-S400  a  year  for  fourteen  or  fifteen  years,  but  at  the  end 
of  that  time  embezzlement  by  the  deputy,  for  whom  he  was 
responsible,  involved  him  in  serious  embarrassment.  This 
was  all  that  Moore  received  from  his  gTeat  political  friends, 
— no  gi'eat  boon  as  things  went  in  the  days  of  patronage. 
He  had  hopes  from  Lord  Moira  in  the  Gren%Tlle  ministry 
in  1806, — hopes  of  an  Iri'^h  commissionership  or  something 
substantial,  but  the  king's  obstinacy  about  Catholic  emanci- 
pation destroyed  the  ministry  before  anything  worth  having 
tm-ned  up.  The  poet's  long-deferred  hopes  were  finally 
extinguished  in  1 8 1 2,  when  Lord  iloira,  under  the  Liverijool 
administration,  went  out  as  governor-general  to  India 
without  making  any  provision  for  him.  .From  that  time 
Moore  set  himself  in  earnest  to  make  a  living  by  literature, 
his  responsibilities  being  increased  by  his  marriage  in  1811. 
Fi-om  his  boyhood  to  1812  may  be  called  the  first  period 
of  Moore's  poetical  activity.  He  had  formed  the  design 
of  transkiting  Anacreon  while  still  at  college,  and  several 
of  the  pieces  published  in  1801  under  the  nom  de  plume 
of  "Thomas  Little"  were  written  before  he  was  eigMccn. 
The  somewhat  ostentatious  scholarship  of  the  notts  to  his 
Anacrco?!,  the  parade  of  learned  rfuthorities,  he  exulair.ed 


by  his  habit  of  omnivorous  reading  in  Trinity  College 
library.  Throughout  his  Uterary  life  he  retained  this  habit 
of  out-of-the-way  reading  and  clever  display  of  it.  Moore 
had  r'^ally  abundance  of  miscellaneous  scholarship  as  well 
as  great  quickness  in  the  analogical  application  of  his 
knowledge ;  and,  though  he  made  sad  havoc  of  quantities 
when  he  tried  to  write  in  Greek,  there  was  probably  no 
scholar  of  his  time  who  woidd  have  surpassed  him  in  the 
interpretation  of  a  difficult  passage.  He  seems  to  have 
spent  a  good  deal  of  time  in  the  libraries  of  the  great 
houses  that  he  frequented;  Moira,  Lansdowne,  and  Holland 
were  all  scholarly  men  and  book-collectors.  It  might  be 
asked, — What  had  "  pa-ssion's  warmest  child,"  whose  "  only 
books  were  women's  looks,"  to  do  with  obscure  mediaeval 
epigrammatists,  theologians,  and  commentators?  But  it 
would  seem  that  Moore  took  the  hints  for  many  of  his 
lyrics  from  books,  and,  kno'wing  the  gTeat  wealth  of  fancy 
among  medifeval  Latinists,  turned  often  to  them  as  likely 
quarters  in  which  to  find  some  happy  word-play  or  image 
that  might  serve  as  a  motive  for  his  muse.  The  pubUc, 
of  course,  were  concerned  with  the  product  and  net  with 
the  ijrocess  of  manufacture,  and  "  Little's  "  songs  at  once 
became  the  rage  in  every  drawing-room.  He  found  his 
songs  in  Virginia  when  he  landed  there  on  his  way  to 
Bermuda.  And  not  only  were  his  songs  sung  but  his 
poems  were  read,  passing  rapidly  thi-ough  many  editions. 
The  bulk  of  them  were  simple  fancies,  gracefully,  fluently, 
and  sometimes  wittily  expressed,  the  lyrist's  models  being 
the  amatory  poets  of  the  17th  century  from  Carew 
to  Rochester.  Carew  is-  the  only  eminent  poet  of  that 
century  with  whom  Moore  wiU  bear  comparison.  The 
highest  praise  that  can  be  given  to  his  amatorj-  lyrics  is 
that  he  knew  his  audience,  wrote  directly  for  them,  and 
pleased  them  more  than  any  of  his  competitors.  Hi."! 
publication  of-  1806  was  savagely  reviewed  in  the  Bdin- 
lurgh  by  Jeffrey,  who  accused  hini  of  a  deliberate  design 
to  coriTipt  the  minds  of  innocent  maidens  with  his  wanton 
fe^ncies,  and  who  had  in  consequence  to  figui'e  in  a  ludicrous 
attempt  at  a  duel — ludicrous  in  its  circumstances,  though 
Moore  was  ferociou.sly  in  earnest.  We  may  well  acquit 
Moore  of  the  diabolic  intention  attributed  to  liim,  but 
JeSrey's  criticism  of  his  poetry  as  poetry  v.as  just  enough. 
The  only  parts  of  the  volume  that  Jelfrey  praised  were 
the  satu-ical  epistles.  The  vein  essayed  in  •  these  epistles 
Moore  pureued  afterwards  in  his  Corruption,  Intolerance 
(ISOS),  and  The  Sceptic,  a  philosophical  satire  (1809)  ;  but 
as  long  as  he  kept  to  the  heroic  couplet  and  the  manner 
of  Pope  he  could  not  give  full  scope" to  his  peculiar  powers 
as  a  satirist.  It  may  be  remarked  in  passing  that  the  result 
of  the  hostile  meeting  with  Jeffrey  is  a  striking  evidence 
of  the  impressi veness  of  iloore's  personality ;  in  the  course 
of  a  few  minutes'  conversation  he  changed  a  bitter  critic 
into  a  lifelong  friend.  Of  all  the  poetical  enterprises  that 
Moore  undertook,  either  at  this  period  or  later,  none  was 
so  exactly  suited  to  his  powers  as  the  task  proposed  to  him 
by  the  publisher  Power  of  supplying  fit  words  to  a  collection 
of  Irish  mc'odies.  The  first  number  appeared  in  1807,  and 
it  was  so  successful  that  for  twenty-seven  years  afterwards 
■(vriting  words  to  music  was  one  of  Moore's  most  regular 
occupations  and  his  steadiest  soui'co  of  income.  Power  pay- 
ing him  an  annuity  of  ,£500.  Six  numbers  of  Irish  melodies 
were  published  before  1815  ;  then  thoy  turned  to  sacrod 
songs  and  national  airs,  issuing  also  four  more  numbers  of 
Irish  melodies  before  1831.  Moore  entered  into  this  work 
with  his  best  and  most  practised  powers  and  ■nith  all  his 
heart.  From  his  boyhood  he  had  been  in  training  for  it. 
The  most  characteristic  moods  of  Irish  feeling,  grave  and 
;;ay,  plaintive  and  stirring,  were  embodied  in  those  ail's, 
and  their  \ariety  touched  the  whole  range  of  Moore's  sensi- 
tive ^piritj-carrying  him  far  beyond  the  shallows  of  hiK 


MOORE 


807 


spunous  Anarrcontic  sentiment,  namby-pamby  when  not 
prurient;  lie  wrote  witli  full  inspiration,  unresfrveJ  sin- 
cerity, and  thoroughly  roused  faculty.  Divorced  from  the 
music,  many  of  them  are  insipid  enough,  but  they  were 
never  meant  to  be  divorced  from  the  music ;  the  music 
was  meant,  as  Coleridge  felt  when  he  heard  them  sung  by 
the  poet  himself,  to  twine  round  them  and  overtop  them 
like  the  honeysuckle.  Moore  accomplished  this  with 
exquisite  art.  His  most  conspicuous  failures  may  be 
traced  to  his  habit  of  taking  as  his  starting-point  not  an 
emotional  incident  but  some  unmanageable  intellectual  con- 
ceit. Hence  arose  intellectual  discords,  incongruous  and 
imperfectly  harmonized  fanci&j,  which  even  the  music  can 
hardly  gloss  over. 

The  regent's  desertion  of  the  Whigs  in  1812  cut  them 
off  from  all  hope  of  office  for  many  years  to  come,  and 
Jloore  from  his  last  hoj-ie  of  a  snug  sinecure,  -shen  Lord 
iloira  also  was  practically  "  oblivioiis  "  of  him.  There  was 
at  once  a  marked  increase  in  his  literary  fertility,  and  he 
broke  ground  in  a  new  field,  which  he  cultivated  with 
pre-eminent  success — political  squib-writing.  Moore  was 
lEiOapablo  of  anything  like  rancour,  but  he  felt  the  dis- 
appointment of  his  hopes  enoui;;h  to  quicken  his  fancy  and 
sharpen  the  edge  of  his  wit.  The  prince  regent,  his  old 
friend  and  patron,  who  was  said  to  have  begged  all  Lord 
Moira's  appointments  for  personal  favourites,  was  his  first 
butt.  The  prince's  defects  and  foibles,  his  fatness,  his 
huge  r/hiskers,  his  love  for  cutlets  and  cura(;oa,  for  aged 
mistresses  and  practical  jokes,  were  ridiculed  with  the 
lightest  of  clever  hands.  Jloore  opened  fire  in  the  Morning 
Chroiivh,  and  crowned  his  success  next  year  (1813)  with 
a  thin  volume  of  "  Intercepted  Letters,"  The  Tviopenny  Post 
Bay.  A  very  little  knowledge  of  the  gossip  of  the  time 
enauhi  us  to  understand  'he  delight  with  which  Moore's 
sallies  were  received  in  the  year  which  ivituesscd  the 
imprisonment  of  Leigh  Hunt  for  more  outspoken  attacks 
on  the  regent.  Moore  received  every  encouragement  to 
work  the  new  vein.  He  was  at  one  time  in  receipt  of 
a  regular  salary  from  the  Timts ;  and  his  little  volumes 
of  squibs  published  at  intervals, — The  Fudge  Family 
ill  Pans,  !S1S;  The  Jojirnal  of  a  2Iembcr  of  the  Pococurante 
Soci^ii.;  1620;  Fable-f  /or  the  Eoly  Aliiance,  1823;  Odes 
on  Cxsh,  Com,  Cuihottcs,  and  otlicr  .Hatters,  1828 ;  The 
Fudjes  in,  Fiigland,  1835— went  through  many  editions. 
Tlie  prose  Ifemotrs  of  Captain  Rock  (1S24)  may  be  added 
to  the  list.  Moore's  only  faihire  was  Tom  Cribh's  JUemorial 
to  Congress  (1819),  for  which  he  had  made  an  elabora^te 
study  of  thieves'  slang.  It  was  of  course  on  the  side  of 
the  TMiigs  that  Moore  employed  his  pen,  and  his  favourite 
topics  were  the  system  of  repression  in  Ireland  and  the 
disabilities  of  the  Catholics.  He  made  rather  too  serious 
a  claim  for  his  pasquinades  when  ho  spoke  of  "  laying  the 
lash  on  the  back  of  the  bigot  and  the  oppressor."  It  was 
not  exactly  a  lash  or  a  scoiu-ge  that  he  wielded.  It  was 
in  happ}',  airily  malicious  ridicule  of  personal  foibles  that 
his  strength  lay ;  he  pricked  and  teased  his  victims  with 
sharp  and  tiny  arrows.  But,  light  as  his  hand  was,  he  was 
fairly  entitled  to  the  enthusiastic  gratitude  of  his  country- 
men for  his  share  in  effecting  Catholic  emancipation. 

The  disappointment  of  1612,  which  started  Moore  on 
liis  career  as  a  squib-writer,  nerved  him  also  to  a  more 
sustained  effort  in  serious  verse  th.in  he  had  before  at- 
tempted. Lall'i  Rookh  would  never  have  been  written 
if  the  author's  necessities  had  not  compelled  him  to  work. 
'To  keep  himself  at  the  oar,  he  contracted  with  the  Long- 
mans to  supply  a  metrical  romance  on  an  Eastern  subject, 
which  should  contain  at  least  as  many  lines  as  Scott's 
Rokeby,  an<l  for  which  the  publishers  bound  themselves  to 
[wy  three  thousand  gixineas  on  delivery.  The  pncm  w^.s 
not  published  till  May  1S17.     Moore,  as  was  his  habit. 


nade  most  laborious  preparation,  readir.g  himself  slowly 
into  familiarity  ^^-ith  Eastern  scenery  and  manners.  He 
retired  to  a  cottage  in  Derbyshire,  near  Lord  iloira's  library 
at  Doningtou  Park,  that  he  might  work  uninterruptedly, 
safe  from  the  distractions  of  Loudon  society;  and  there, 
"  amid  the  snows  of  a  Derbyshire  winter  "  as  he  put  it, 
he  patiently  elaborated  his  voluptuous  pictures  of  ilower- 
scented  valleys,  gorgeous  gardens,  tents,  and  palaces, 
and  houris  of  ravishing  beauty.  The  confidence  of  the 
publishers  was'  fully  justified.  Moore's  contemporaries 
were  dazzled  and  enchanted  with  Lalla  Roohh.  It  was 
indeed  a  wonderful  tour  de  force.  There  was  not  a  single 
image  or  allusion  in  it  that  an  ordinary  Englishman  could 
understand  mthout  a  foot-note.  High  testimonies  were  borne 
to  the  correctness  of  the  local  colouring,  and  the  usual  stories 
were  circidated  of  Oriental  natives  who  would  not  believe 
that  Moore  had  never  travelled  in  the  East.  Moore  was 
less  successful  in  realizing  Oriental  character  than  he  was 
in  details  of  dress  and  vegetation.  His  fire-woj-shipper 
is  an  Irish  patriot  betrayed  by  an  informer,  his  Zelica  a 
piously  niu'tured  Catholic  maiden  brooding  over  unpardoned 
sin,  his  ilokanna  a  melodramatic  stage  monster, — though 
they  are  so  thickly  covered  vv-ith  Oriental  trappings  that 
their  identity  is  considerably  disguised.  Of  the  four  tales 
put  into  the  mouth  of  Feramorz,  the  "  Veiled  Prophet "  was 
the  least  suited  to  Moore's  Turkey-carpet  treatment.  We 
can  understand  the  enthusiasm  with  which  Moore's  Orien- 
talism was  received  as  "  the  best  that  we  have  had  yet," 
and  wo  can  honour  the  hoi;cst  labour  with  whiui  he 
achieved  this  success ;  but  such  artificial  finery,  as  the  poet 
himself  had  the  sense  to  suspect,  could  have  only  a  temporary 
reputation.  He  deliberately  sacrificed  the  higher  quaiitles 
of  poetry  for  accuracy  of  costume  and  soft  melody  of 
rhyme  and  rhythm,  and  he  had  his  reward.  His  ne.\t 
Orientalism,  the  Loits  of  the  Angels,  published  in  1822, 
was  hardly  less  popular  than  Lcdla  Roohh.  The  artificiality 
of  the  manufacture  was  shown  by  the  ease  with  which,' 
after  a  few  editions,  he  changed  his  angels  from  Jews  into 
Turks,  to  evade  a  charge  of  impiety  which  was  supposed 
to  impede  the  sale  of  the  work.  Lnmediately  after  tho 
completion  of  Lalla  Roohh  Moore  changed  his  residence 
to  Sloperton  Cottage  in  Wiltshire,  to  be  near  Lord 
Lansdowne  and  the  library  at  Bowood,  his  next  literary 
project  being  a  life  of  Sheridan.  His  plans  were  inter- 
rupted by  the  consequences  of  the  rascality  of  his  deputy 
.at  Bermuda,  which  has  been  already  mentioned.  To 
avoid  arrest  for  the  sum  embezzled,  Moore  retired  to  the 
Continent,  and  fixed  his  residence  at  Paris.  He  could  not 
return  till  November  1822,  when  the  affair  was  com- 
promised. His  friends  lamented  that  the  attractions  of 
Paris  occupied  so  much  of  his  time,  but,  though  his  diary 
contains  almost  daily  records  of  visits  to  operas,  fetes, 
and  fashionable  entertainments,  it  shows  also  that  he 
was  busier  than  he  seemed.  He  wrote  a  goodly  number 
of  squibs  during  his  exile,  besides  composing  the  Loves  of 
the  Angels  and  accumulating  materials  for  his  prose  tale 
of  the  Epicurean— !i  fair  amount  of  production  consider- 
ing his  slow  and  painstaking  habits  of  composition.  His 
alertness  of  mind,  self-possession,  and  steadiness  of  purpose 
enabled  him  to  work  as  few  men  could  in  the  midst  of  diver- 
sions and  distractions ;  and,  although  he  himself  took  a 
brilliai.t  }iart  in  conversation,  we  can  see,  from  a  compari- 
son of  his  diary  wth  his  published  ^vritings,  that  he  kept 
his  ears  open  for  facts  and  iNatticisms  which  he  afterwards 
made  his  own.  The  darling  of  the  drawing-room  was  as 
much  bee  as  butterfly.  On  his  return  to  England  he 
resumed  work  steadily  at  his  memoirs  of  Sheridan,  ^vriting 
Captain  Rock  as  ajeu  eCesprit  by  the  way.  The  Sheridan 
triumphantly  despatched  in  the  autumn  of  1S25,  Moore-'s 
next  important  work  was  the  Life  of  fiyrcn.     'The  first 


808 


M  O  O  — M  0  O 


■volume  of  this  was  published  early  in  1 830,  and  tlie  second 
was  ready  by  the  eud  of  the  same  year.  In  183]  he  com- 
pleted a  memoir  of  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald,  for  which  he 
had  been  collecting  materials  for  some  time.  Moore's 
biographies  call  for  no  comment,  except  that  they  were 
faithful  and  conscientious  pieces  of  worJJ.  He  spent 
much  industry  in  the  collection  of  characteristic  anecdotes, 
for  which  his  position  in  society  gave  him  exceptional 
opportunity.  His  connexion  with  the  biu-ning  of  Byron's 
autobiography  is  too  complicated  a  question  to  be  dis- 
cussed here.  His  own  version  of  the  ciixumstances  is 
given  in  his  diary  for  May  1824. 

It  was  a  misfortune  for  the  comfort  of  the  last  twenty 
years  of  Moore's  life  that  he  aDowed  himself  to  be  drawn 
into  a  project  for  writing  the  "History  of  Ireland"  in 
Lardne?s  Cydopzdia.  Scott  and  Mackintosh  scribbled 
off  the  companion  volumes  on  Scotland  and  England  with 
very  little  trouble,  but  Moore  had  neither  their  historical 
training  nor  their  despatch  in  writing.  Laborious  con- 
scientiousness and  indecision  are  a  fatal  combination  for 
a  man  who  undertakes  a  new  kind  of  task  late  in  life. 
The  history  sat  like  a  nightmare  on  Moore  for  fifteen 
years,  and  after  all  was  left  unfinished  on  the  melancholy 
coKapse  of  his  powers  in  1845.  From  the  time  that  he 
bui  dened  himself  with  it  Moore  did  very  little  else,  beyond 
a  few  occasional  squibs  and  songs,  the  last  Cashes  of  his 
genius,  and  the  Traoels  of  an  Irish  GenlUman  in  Search  of 
a  lieligioii,  although  he  had  tempting  offers  of  more 
lucrative  and,  it  might  have  been  thought,  more  congenial 
work.  Moore's  character  had  a  deeper  manliness  and 
sincerity  than  he  often  gets  credit  for ;  and  his  tenacious 
persistence  in  this  his  last  task  was  probably  due  to  an 
honourable  ambition  to  connect  himself  as  a  benefactor 
with  the  history  of  his  country,  by  opening  the  eyes  of 
the  English  people  to  the  misgovernment  of  Ireland.  It 
was  a  misjudgment  altogether  ;  the  light  irony  of  Captain 
Rock  was  much  more  effective  than  the  minute  carefully- 
weighed  details  of  the  historjf.  Moore's  last  years  were 
harassed  by  the  w&ikness  and  misconduct  of  his  sens,  and 
by  pecuniary  embarrassments.  i^Ji  annual  pension  of 
£300  was  conferred  upon  him  in  1833,  and  he  had  always 
received  large  suras  for  his  work ;  but,  while  waiting  for 
the  sinecure  which  never  came,  he  had  contracted  an 
unfortunate  habit  of  drawing  upon  his  pubUshers  in 
advance.  After  the  death  of  his  last  child  in  1845,  Moore, 
became  a  total  wreck,  but  he  lingered  on  till  26th  Februaiy 
185'2.  The  diary,  which  he  seems  to  have  kept  chiefly 
that  it  might  be  the  means  of  making  some  provision  for 
his  wife,  and  which  contains  so  many  touching  expressions 
of  his  affection  for  her,  was  edited  by  Lord  -John  liussell 
with  his  letters  and  a  fragment  of  autobio;jraphy  in  1853- 
56.  The  charge  of  vanity  has  often  been  brought  against 
this  diary  from  the  writer's  industry  in  recording  many  of 
the  compliments  paid  him  by  distinguished  personages  and 
public  assemblies.  It  is  only  vanity  that  is  annoyed  by 
the  display  of  vanity  in  others.  (w.  M.) 

MOOPt-HEN,'  the  name  by  which  a  bird,  often  called 
"Water-hen  and  sometimes  Gallinule,  is  most  commoidy 
known  in  England.  An  earlier  name  was  Moat-hen,  which 
was  appropriate  in  the  days  when  a  moat  w?,s  the  ordinary 
adjunct  of  most  considerable  houses  in  the  country.  It  is 
the  GaUinula  chloropus  of  ornithologists,  and  almost  too 
well  known  to  need  description.  About  the  size  of  a  small 
Bantara-hen,  but  with  the  body  much  compressed  (as  is 
usual  with  members  of  the  Family  liaHidx,  to  which  it 
belongs),  its  plumule  above  ia  of  a  deep  olive-brown,  so 
dark  as  to  appear  black  at  a  short  distance,  and  beneath 


*  Not  to  ba  confiiuiidad  with  "  Moor-cock  "  or  "  Moor-fowl."  unmes 
fonnerly  in  general  U8«  for  tlio  Ked  Oroiue  (voL  xi.  2J1). 


iron-grey,  relieved  by  some  white  stripes  on  the  flanks,' 
with  the  lower  tail-coverts  of  pure  white, — these  last  being 
very  conspicuous  as  the  bird  svidms.  A  scarlet  frontlet, 
especially  bright  in  the  spring  of  the  year,  and  a  red  garter 
on  the  tibia  of  the  male  render  him  very  showy.  Though 
often  frequenting  the  neighbourhood  of  man,  the  iloor- 
hen  seems  unable  to  overcome  the  inherent  stealthy  habits 
of  the  Ho.Uidse,  and  hastens  to  hide  itself  on  the  least 
alarm ;  but  under  exceptional  circumstances  it  may  be 
induced  to  feed,  yet  always  suspiciously,  with  tanie  ducks 
and  poultry.  It  appears  to  take  wing  with  difficulty,  and 
may  be  often  caught  by  an  active  dog;  but,  in  reality,  it 
is  capable  of  sustained  flight,  its  longer  excursions  being 
chiefly  performed  by  night,  when  the  peculiar  call-note  it 
utters  is  frequently  heard  as  the  bird,  itself  invisible  in 
the  darkness,  passes  overhead.  The  nest  is  a  mass  of 
flags,  reeds,  or  other  aquatic  plants,  often  aiTangcd  with 
much  neatness,  almost  always  near  the  water's  edge,  where  a 
clump  of  rushes  is  generally  chosen  ;  but  should  a  mill-dam, 
sluice-gate,  or  boat-house  afford  a  favourable  site,  advan- 
tage will  be  taken  of  it,  and  not  imfrequently  the  bough 
of  a  tree  at  som-e  height  from  the  ground  will  furnish  the 
place  for  a  cradle.  The  eggs,  from  seven  to  eleven  in  number, 
resemble  those  of  the  Coot  (vol.  vi.  p.  341),  but  are  smaller, 
lighter,  and  brighter  in  colour,  'sdth  spots  or  blotches  of 
reddish-brown.  In  winter,  when  the  inland  watei-s  are 
frozen,  the  majority  of  Moor-hens  betake  theraiselyes  to 
the  tidal  rivers,  and  many  must  !e<tve  the  country  entirely, 
though  a  few  seem  always  able  to  maintain  their  existence 
however  hard  bo  the  frost.  The  common  Moor-hen  is 
extensively  spread  throughout  the  Old  Vt'orld,  being  found 
also  at  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  in  India,  and  in  Japan.  In 
America  it  is  represented  by  a  very  closeiy-allied  form,  0. 
galeaia,  so  called  from  its  rather  larger  frontal  helm,  and  in 
Australia  by  anotiier,  G.  tenelrosa,  which  generally  wants 
the  white  flank-markings.  Both  closely  resemble  G.  ddor- 
opus  in  general  habits,  as  doea  also  the  G.  pyrrhorrlioa  of 
Madagascar,  v/hich  has  the  lower  tail-coverts  bull  instead  of 
white.  Celebes  and  Amboyna  possess  a  smaller  cognate 
species,  G.  hsimaiopus,  with  red  legs ;  tropical  Africa  has 
the  smallest  of  all,  G.  angizlatn ;  and  some  more  that  have 
been  rcooeiiized  as  distinct  are  also  found  in  other  more 
or  less  jjsolated  localities.  One  of  the  most  remarkable  of 
these  is  the  G.  nesiotis  of  Tristan  da  Cunha,-  which  has 
wholly  lost  the  power  of  flight  concomitantly  with  the 
shortening  of  its  wings  and  a  considerable  modification  of 
its  external  apparatus,  as  well  as  a  strengthening  of  its  peiiic 
girdle  and  Icgs.^  A  more  extreme  development  in  this 
direction  appears  to  be  exhibited  by  the  singiUar  SabropCila 
■wallacii  of  Jilolo,''  and  to  sone  extent  by  tlie  PareuJicsles 
pacif.ati;  of  Samoa,^  but  at  present  little  is  known  of  either. 
Of  other  forms,  such  as  the  common  GaUinula  (En/tkra) 
phoi/ticr.ra,  and  Gallirej;  crislata  of  India,  as  well  8"  <.)"> 
South-American  species  classed  in  the  genus  P'^phynops, 
there  is  not  room  to  speak ;  but  mention  sho'ild  be  made 
of  the  remarkable  Australian  genus  Tr-.lony.<;,  containing 
three  species,*  which  seem  to  bo  af>ro  terrestrial  than 
aouatic  in  their  haunts  and  hablco 

Allied  to  all  these  is  the  ^e-.oa  Porphyria,  including  the 
bird  so  named  by  claDsi'-al  writers,  and  perhaps  a  dozeu 
other  species  often  'bailed  SrJtanas  and  Purple  Water- 
hens,  for  they  a'l  hi?e  a  plimii.ge  of  deep  blue, — soma 
becoming  vio'oc,  green,  or  black  in  parts,  bat  preserving 
the  white  io'.ver   tail-coverts,   so  generally  characteristic 


^  Pr'X.  Hool.  Society,  13i51,  ;>.  280,  pi.  ixi. 

'  A  Romewhat  intermediate  for.-u  seems  to  be  presented  by  thfi 
Moor-hen  of  the  islKud  of  St.D':fli.«>,  to  the  north  of -Madagoscjir  (P:vCt 
ZmI.  Societ'j,  1887,  p.  lOSC),  Lithorto  undcscribed. 

■*  Op-  cit.,  1860,  p.  TdB,  pi.  cUiii. 

'  Op.  eil.,  1811,  p.  .ii,  pi.  ii. 

•  Ann.  Aoi.  History,  aor.  3,  xx.  p.  IDD, 


M  O  O  — M  O  R 


809 


of  the  group;  ar.J  flieir  ueauty  is  cnlianced  by  tlieir  scanct 
bjil  and  hgs.  Two,  P.  allmi  of  tbe  Etliioj)iaii  Region  and 
the  South-American  P.  parva,  are  of  small  size.  Of  the 
larger  epecies,  P.  cxruteus  is  the  "Porpliyrio"  of  the  au- 
cij'its,  and  inhabits  certain  localities  on  both  sides  of  the 
>Iediterranean,  while  the  vest  are  widely  dispersed  -nnthin 
ihe  tropics,  and  even  beyond  them,  as  in  Australia  and 
New  Zealand.  But  this  last  country  has  produced  a  more 
exaggerated  form,  Sotornis,  -ndiich  has  an  interesting  and 
perhaps  vinique  history.  Fii-st  described  from  a  fossil  skull 
by  Prof.  Owen,^  and  then  thought  to  be  extinct,  an  example 
v.';!S  soon  after  taken  alive,^  the  skin  of  which  (with  that 
•of  another  procured  like  the  first  by  Mr  Walter  Mantell) 
7n.'i.y  be  seen  in  the  British  Museum.  Other  fossil  remains 
were  from  time  to  time  noted  by  Prof.  Owen  ^;  but  it  began 
to  be  feared  that  the  bii-d  had  ceased  to  exist,*  until  a  third 
example  was  taken  about  the  year  1879,  the  skin  and  most 
of  the  bones  of  which,  after  undergoing  examination  in 
New  Zealand  by  Dr  Buller  and  Prof.  T.  .J.  Parker,^  found 
their  way  to  the  museum  of  Dresden,  where  Dr  A.  B.  Meyer 
■discovered  the  recent  remains  to  be  specifically  distinct 
from  the  fossil,  and  while  keeping  for  the  latter  the  name 
Jf.  mantdli  gives  the  former  that  of  iV.  liocIisteUcn.  AMiat 
seems  to  have  been  a  third  species  of  Kotomia  formerly 
inliabited  Lord  Howe's  Island,  but  is  now  extinct  (see 
BiKDS,  vol.  iii.  p.  732,  note).  Whether  the  genus  Apt-rmis, 
of  which  Prof.  Owen  has  described  the  remains  from  Nev/ 
Zealand,  was  most  nearly  allied  to  Notornis  and  PorjJnjno 
-cannot  here  be  decided.  Prof.  T.  J.  Parker  {ioc.  ck.)  con- 
siders it  a  "development  by  degeneration  of  an  ocydromine 
*3T®  "  (s^s  Ocvdeome).  (a.  k. j 

.MOOSE.     See  Deee,  vol.  vii.  p.  2i. 

jMOEADABAD.     See  JIubadabad. 

MORAL  PHILOSOPHY.    See  Ethics,  vol.  liii.  p.  574. 

MORATIN,  Leandro  Fernandez  de  (1760-1828), 
Spanish  dramatist  and  poet,  was  the  son  of  N.  F.  Storatin 
mentioned  below,  and  was  born  at  Madrid  on  10th  March 
1760.  His  poetical  and  artistic  tastes  were  early  deve- 
loped, but  his  father,  keenly  alive  to  the  difficulties  of  the 
li'erary  calling,  caused  him  to  be  apprenticed  to  a  jeweller. 
At  the  age  of  eighteen  Moratin  surprised  liis  friends  by 
wi:)rjng  the  second  prize  of  the  Academy  for  a  heroic  poem 
-on  the  conquest  of  Granada,  and  two  years  aftcrv.-ards  he 
attracted  still  more  general  attention  by  a  similar  success 
-of  liis  Leccion  Poetv:a,  a  .satire  upon  the  popular  poets  of 
the  day.  Through  Jovilianos  he  was  now  appointed  secre- 
tary to  Cabarrus  on  his  special  mission  to  France  in  1787, 
s>.\-A  daring  his  stay  there  he  diligently  improved  his  oppor- 
i  iiiities  of  becoming  acquainted  with  the  contemporary 
'•'rench  drama,  and  of  cultivating  the  acquaintance  of  men 
'A  letters.  Of  the  literary  friendships  he  then  formed  the 
/jost  important  was  that  with  Goldoni ;  indeed,  Moratin 
•'.  much  more  correctly  styled  "  the  Spanish  Goldoni "  than 
•'  ihe  Spanish  Moliire."  On  his  return  to  Spain  Florida 
Bianca  prcientcd  him  to  a  sinecure  benefice  in  Uio  diocese 
-of  Burgos;  and  in  1790  his  first  play.  El  Viejo  y  la 
Kiiia  (The  Old  Husbaiu!  and  the  Young  Wife),  a  highly 
finished  but  soniewliat  dreary  verse  comedy  iu  t'iirco  acts, 
written  in  1786,  but  delayed  by  objections  of  the  actors. 


'  Pnc.  Zodl.  Sockl:^,  18-1-S,  p.  7  ;  Trails.,  iii.  p.  336,  pi.  ivi. 

=  iVo&,  1850,  pp.  2OO-2I5,  pi.  j;xL  ;  Tram.,  :v.  pji.  69-74,  pi. 

3CXV. 

-  Thus  lljo  leg-bones  aTid  T\-hat  appeared  to  be  tTio  stomum  T\-ere 
d^'wribed  and  figured  bj*  him  {Trana.,  iv.  jip.  12,  17,  p!s.  ii.  iv.), 
nnd  the  pelvis  end  another  femur  (vii.  -pp.  369,  S73,  pis,  .^lii.  xliii. ); 
l>i-it  the  supi>osed  sternum  subsequently  proved  not  to  be  that  of 
3Wom(5,  and  Professor  Owen's  attention  being  called  to  the  fact  he 
rc.-tificd 'the  error  {Proc.,  1SS2,  p.  639)  which  he  had  pre\-iouBly 
1>'!'  ti  "inclined  to  believe"  (TVajw.,  viii.  p.  120)  he  had  made. 

*  Not7.'illist«ndinj  the  evidence,  which  it  most  be  allowed  pre- 
sented some  incongruities,  otTered  by  Mr  Mnckaj  {Ibiot  1867,  p.  \H). 

'  TV/in*  .V.  ^eal.  /.isf.,  :civ.  pp.  238-:!l3. 


was  at  length  i.ioduced  at  tlie  Teatro  del  Pnr.cipe.  Its 
success  was  only  moderate.  £/  Cii/e  or  La  Comedia  X^ieni. 
on  the  other  hand,  given  at  the  same  theatre  two  years 
afterwards,  at  once  became  deservedly  popular,  and  had 
considerable  influence  in  modifying  the  public  taste.  It 
is  a  short  prose  comedy  in  two  acts,  avowedly  intended 
to  expose  the  follies  and  absurdities  of  the  contemporary 
dramatists — the  school  of  Lope  de  A'ega  run  to  seed — jvho 
commanded  the  support  of  the  masses ;  and  it  is  still  read 
with  pleasure  for  the  simple  ingenuity  of  its  plot,  the  live- 
liness of  its  dialogue,  and  the  easy  grace  of  its  style,  wjiilc 
to  the  student  of  literature  it  throws  much  useful  light  on 
the  contemporary  state  of  the  Spanish  drama,  and  on  the 
refortoing  aims  of  the  author  and  his  party.  In  the  Same 
year  (1792)  Florida  Bianca  was  disgraced,  but  Moratin 
at  once  found  another  patron  in  Godoy,  who  jjrovided  him 
with  a  pension  and  the  means  for  foreign  travel ;  he  accord- 
ingly passed  through  France  into  England,  where  he  began 
the  free  and  someiiMt  incorrect  translation  of  Havdct 
which  was  printed  in  17&8,  but  which  has  never  been  per- 
formed. From  England  Ifae  passed  to  the  Low  Countries, 
Germany,  Switzerland,  ana  Italy,  and  on  his  retm-n  to  the 
Peninsula  in  1796  he  received-a  lucrative  post  at  the  Foreign 
Office.  His  next  appearance  in  the  drama  did  not  take  place 
until  180.3,  when  El  Baron  was  first  pnblicly  exhibited  in 
its  present  form.  It  successfully  weathered  a  determined 
attempt  to  damn  it,  and  still  keeps  the  stage.  It  was 
followed  in  1804  by  La  Mogigala  (The  Female  'E.jpo- 
crite),  of  which  imperfect  manuscript  copies  had  begun 
to  circulate  as  early  as  1791.  It  was  favourably  received, 
as  on  the  whole  it  de.served  to  be,  by  a  public  which  wa* 
now  at  one  with  the  author  as  to  the  canons  of  his  art,  and 
an  attempt  to  suppress  it  by  means  of  the  Inquisition  on 
alleged  religious  grounds  (La  Mogigata  being  an  imitation, 
a  somewhat  feeble  one,  of  Moliere's  Tariufe)  was  succass- 
full}-  frustrated.  Sloratin's  last  and  cro^vniug  triumph  in 
the  department  of  original  comedy  was  achieved  in  1803) 
when  El  Si  de  las  JTirias  (A  Girl's  Yes)  was  perfonneA 
night  after  night  to  crowded  houses,  ran  through  several 
Spanish  editions  in  a  year,  and  was  soon  translated  into 
several  foreign  languages.  In  1808,  on  the  fall  of  the 
Prince  of  the  Peace,  Moratin  found  it  necessary  to  leave 
Spain,  but  shortly  afterwards  he  returned  and  consented 
to  accept  the  oflico  of  royal  librarian  under  Joseph  Bona- 
paite — a  false  step;,  which,  as  the  event  proved,  permanently 
alienated  from  him  the  sympathies  of  his  country,  and 
compelled  him  to  spend  almost  all  the  rest  of  his  life  in 
exile.  In  1812  his  Esatela  de  los  Maridos,  a  translation 
and  adaptation  to  the  more  dignified  and  stately  Spanish 
standard  of  Moliire's  Ecole  das  Maris,  was  produced  at 
Madrid,  and  in  1814  El  Medico  a  Palos  (from  Le  Mededa 
Malgre  Lvi)  at  Barcelona.  From  1814  to  1828  Moratin 
lived  in  France,  principally  at  Paris,  and  devoted  himself 
to  the  preparation  of  a  learned  work  on  the  history  of  the 
Spankh  drama  (Origmes  del  Teatro  Espanot),  which  unfor- 
tuni.iely  stops  short  of  the  period  of  Lope  de  Tega.  He 
died  at  Paris  on  21st  June  1828. 

An  edition  of  I-.is  Obras  Dmmaticas  y  Liricas  in  tlu-ee  voLs.  was 
published  at  Paris  in  1825.  The  lyrical  -ivorks,  consisting  of  odes, 
souneta,  and  ballads,  are  of  comparatively  little  interest;  tliey 
reflect  the  influence  of  his  father  and  of  the  Italian  ContL  The 
best  edition  of  the  Obras  is  that  published  by  the  Spanish  Academy 
of  History  in  four  vols,  at  I.Iadrid  in  1830-1S31  ;  see  also  vol.  iL 
ci  BU'Uokca  dc  Aulorcs  jE'spaflu/cs  (1816). 

MORATIN,  Nicolas  Fernandez  de  (1737-1780), 
Spanish  poet,  was  descended  from  an  old  Biscayr.n  family, 
and  was  bom  at  Madrid  in  1737.  He  was  educated  at 
the  Jesuit  college  in  Calatayud,  and  afterwards  studied 
law  at  the  univel-sity  of  Valladolid.  He  then  received  an 
appointment  in  the  service  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  the  widow 
ui  Philip  v.,  whi.'h  enabled  him  1  s  see  much  of  the,  socieJy 
'S-'.-L—  102 


810 


M  0  R  — M  0  R 


of  leading  c^tate.^mcn.  ])Osra,  and  ineu  of  letters ;  and 
ultimately  tie  becaTne  tlie  leading  spirit  of  the  club  of 
literary  men  which  frequented  the  Fonda  de  San  Sebastian 
and  included  Ayala,  C'adahalso,  Iriarte,  Conti,  and  others. 
In  1772  he  left  the  court,  and  was  called  to  the  bar;  four 
years  afterwards  he  succeeded  A)ala  in  the  chair  of  poetry 
in  the  Imperial  College.     He  died  on  11th  May  1780. 

Moratic  became  at  an  eaily  period  of  his  life  a  convert  to  the 
opinions  of  those  who  (such  as  Moutiano  and  others)  were  attempt- 
ing to  drive  the  native  romantic  diama  from  the  Spanish  stage,  and 
his  fiist  literary  efforts  were  devoted  to  the  cause  of  tlieatrical 
rcforia.  Il  1762  he  published  thiee  small  pamphlets  entitled 
Dcseru/nno  at  Tcatro  EspnSiol  (Tlio  Trutli  told  about  the  Spanish 
St-ige),  ia  which  he  severely  criticized  the  old  drama  generally,  and 
particularly  the  still  flourishing  "auto  sacramental"  They  were 
so  far  successful  that  the  exhibition  of  "autos  saci-amentaies  "  was 
prohibited  by  royal  edict  three  yeais  afterwards  (June  1765).  In 
17C2  he  also  published  a  play  entitled  La  Pctimctra  (tho  Petite- 
Maitrestc,  or  Female  Fribble),  tlic  earliest  original  Spanish  comedy 
formed  avowedly  on  French  models.  It  was  preceded  by  a  disserta- 
tion in  which  Lope  de  Vega  and  Calderon  are  very  unfavourably 
ciiticized.  Neither  the  Pctimctra,  however,  nor  the  Lucrccia,  an 
original  tragedy  still  more  stiictlj-in  accordance  with  the  conventions 
of  the  French  stage,  ever  obtained  the  honour  of  a  public  repre- 
sentation. Two  subsequent  tragedies,  Hormesinda  (1770)  and 
Gtu^um  cl  Bvxno  (1777),  were  exhibited  with  partial  success.  Ln 
1761  Moratin  pubUshed  a  collection  of  .=,hort  pieces,  chiefly  Ij-rical, 
under  the  title  of  Bl  Pacta,  and  in  1765  a  short  didactic  poem  on 
the  chase  (Diana  o  Arte  de  l<i  Caza).  His  "epic  canto  on  the 
destraction  of  his  ships  by  Cortes  [Las  Kares  de  Cortes  Hc-itruidas), 
written,  but  without  success,  for  a  prize  offered  by  the  Academy  in 
1777,  was  not  published  until  after  his  death  (17S5).  It  is  justly 
characterized  by  Ticknor  as  "  the  noblest  poem  of  its  class  produced 
in  Spain  during  the  18th  centurj- ; "  it  must  be  remembered,  how- 
ever, that  the  historical  epic  in  Spain  is  cMefiy  remarkable  for  its 
mass.  A  voUlms  of  Obras  Postumas,  with  a  life,  was  pnhhshed 
at  Barcelona  in  1821,  and  rejirinted  at  London  in  1825.  See  also 
j^ihliotua  do  Autorcs  Espanolcs,  vol.  ii.  (184G). 

MOEAVIA  (in  German  Mahken),  a  margraTiate  and 
crownlaiid  in  the  Cisleithan  part  of  the  Austrian-Hungarian 
empire,  lies  between  15°  5'  and  18°  45'  E.  long.,  and  48° 
50'  and  50°  10'  N.  lat.  Its  superficial  extent  is  about 
t-'o80  square  miles.  Physically  Moravia  may  be  de-ccribed 
as  a  mountainous  plateau  sloping  from  north  to  south,  and 
bordered  on  three  sides  by  moimtain  ranges  of  considerable 
elevation.  On  the  north  it  is  separated  from  Austrian  and 
Prussian  Silesia  by  the  Sudetes,  which  attain  a  height  of 
4775  feet  in  the  Altvater  or  Schneeberg,  and  sink  gradually 
towards  the  west,  where  the  vaUey  of  the  Oder  forms  a  break 
between  the  German  mountains  and  the  Carpathians.  The 
latter  are  the  dividing  range  between  Moravia  and  Hungary, 
having  here  an  average  height  of  3000  to  4000  feet.  On 
the  west  are  the  so-called  Bohemian-Moravian  mountains, 
foi-ming  the  elevated  east  margin  of  Bohemia  and  descend- 
ing in  terraces,  but  without  clearly-defined  ridges,  to  the 
river  March.  Branches  of  these  diifereut  ranges  intersect 
the  whole  country,  maldng  the  sxu:face  very  irrcgiUar, 
except  towards  the  south,  where  it  consists  of  fertile  aud 
c.-ctensive  plains.  Owing  to  this  configuration  of  the  soil 
tlie  climate  varies  more  than  might  be  expected  in  so  small 
an  area,  so  that,  while  the  vine  and  maize  are  cultivated 
successfully  in  the  southern  plains,  the  weather  in  the 
mountainous  districts  is  somewhat  rigorous.  The  mean 
average  temperature  at  Briirin  is  48°  Falu\  The  harvest 
amid  the  mountains  is  often  four  or  five  weeks  later  than 
that  in  the  south.  Almost  the  whole  of  Moravia  belongs 
to  the  basin  of  the  March  or  Moraia,  from  whieb  it  derives 
its  name,  and  wliich,  after  traversing  the  entire  length  of 
the  country  in  a  course  of  140  miles  and  receiving 
numerous  tributaries  (Thaya,  Hanna,  <S:c.),  enters  the  Dan- 
ube at  Pressljurg.  T)ie  Oder  rises  among  the  roouutaiiis 
in  tho  north-east  of  Moravia,  but  soon  turns  to  the  north 
and  quits  tho  country.  With  the  exception  of  a  stretch  of 
the  March  none  of  the  rivers  are  navigable.  Moravia  is 
destitute  of  lakes,  but  contains  numerous  large  ponds. 
There  are  also  several  mincva!  springs. 


Nearly  97  per  cent,  of  the  soil  of  Moravia  is  pvoductiTOf 
arable  land  occupying  53,  gardens  and  meadows  f>-i. 
pasturage  0,  and  forests  26  per  cent,  of  the  total.  It  U 
one  of  the  chief  corn-growing  regions  of  the  Austrian  empire, 
and  also  produces  excellent  hemp,  flax,  potatoes,  vegetables, 
and  fruit.  The  following  table  shows  the  amount  of  the 
chief  crops  in  ISSl  : — 

■Wheat    .  .  451,480  qrs.  Leguminous  crops        27,8-50  cwt. 

Rve    .     .  .  1,242,180    ,,  Beet  (for  sugar)     ll,533,3i0    „ 

Barley    .  .  581,190    „  Flax    ....          47,100    „ 

Oiits  .     .  .  1,197,450    „  Hetnp.     .     .     .             6,2C0    „ 

JIaizo     .  .  48,100    „■  Fniit    ....     1,106,570    .. 

Potatoes  .  1,271, SSOcwt.  Wine   ....     2,869,460 galL 

Large  quantities  of  hay  and  other  fodder,  besides  hops, 
clover-seed,  anise,  fennel,  <tc.,  are  ai.so  raised.  The  forests 
on  the  slopes  of  the  Sudetes  produce  abundance  of  excellent 
timber.  The  live-stock  of  Moravia  in  1880  consisted  of 
l-!2,858  horse-s,  677,807  cattle,  158,852  sheep,  20.5,976 
swine,  and  11(3,880  goats.  The  breed  of  sheep  on  the 
Carpathians  is  of  an  improved  quality,  and  tho  horses  bred 
in  the  fertile  plain  of  the  Hanna  are  highly  esteemed. 
Gee=.e  and  poultry  are  also  reared.  In  1880  Moravia  con- 
t.oined  8.3,440  beehives,  and  the  produce  of  wax  aud  honey 
may  be  estimated  at  3500  to  4000  c^vt3. 

The  mineral  wealth  of  Moravia,  consisting  chiefiy  of 
coal  and  ii'on,  is  very  considerable.  In  18S1  the  produce 
included  392,6!,'5  tons  of  anthracite  coal,  50,665  tons  of 
lignite,  5700  tons  of  iron-ore,  1713  tons  of  graphite,  and 
smaller  quantities  of  alura,  potter's  clay,  and  roofing-slate. 
The  mines  give  em.ploymeut  to  4500  persons,  and  the 
annual  value  of  the  raw  minerals  produced  is  r.l'out 
£370,000.  The  amount  of  raw  and  cast  iron  pro'luoed 
by  the  ironworks  and  foundries  in  1880  was  40,000  tors, 
and  the  value  about  £320,000. 

In  point  of  industry  Moravia  belongs  to  the  lOrciuo?!; 
provinces  of  the  empire.  The  principal  manufacturi:s 
are  woollen,  cotton,  linen,  and  cast-iron  goods,  beet-sugAr, 
leather,  and  brandy.  Its  wooUen  cloths  and  flannels,  tl.« 
manufacture  of  which  centres  in  Briinn,  have  long  been 
celebrated.  Tho  linen  manufacture  is  decreasing  in  im- 
portance as  cotton  manufactures  develop.  The  quantity 
of  sugar  made  from  beetroot  is  steadily  increasing ;  in 
1880  about  600,000  cwts.  of  sugar  were  produced  in  r.fty- 
sevca  factories.  About  10  per  cent,  of  the  total  value  of  the 
manui'actiu-es  of  Austria,  representing  an  annual  amount  of 
£13,000,000  to  £15,000,000,  falls  to  the  share  of  Jlor.-ivji. 
The  trade  of  Moravia  consists  raairily  in  the  exchanjo  of 
the  various  raw  and  manufactured  materials  above  n-cn- 
tioned  for  colonial  produce,  salt,  and  raw  manufacturing 
material.  The  lack  of  navigable  rivers  or  canals  is  com- 
pensated by  good  roads  and  an  extensive  railway  .system. 
The  most  important  commercial  towns  are  Briinn  for  manu- 
factures and  Olmiitz  for  live-stock. 

In  educational  matters  Moravia  compares  favourably 
with  most  of  the  Austrian  state;!.  It  contains  10  gj'mnasia, 
10  rcal-g^Tiinasia,  13  real-schools,  numerous  schools  for 
special  purposes,  and  nearly  2000  lower  schools.  The  oM 
university  of  Briinn  is  now  represented  b)-  a  technical 
academy  and  a  theological  seminary.  Of  children  of  school- 
going  age  79  per*  cent,  attend  school  regularly.  In  1S70 
about  46  per  cent,  of  tho  Moravian  recruits  could  Tvrite 
their  names,  as  compared  with  the  exti-emes  of  83i  per 
cent,  in  Lower  Austria  and  1^  per  cent,  in  Dalmatia. 
Fully  95  per  cent,  of  the  inhabitants  are  Pioman  Catholics 
under  the  ecclesiastical  jurisdiction  of  tho  archbishop  of 
Olmiitz  and  the  bi.^hop  of  Briinn,  while  about  2  per  cent, 
are  Jews,  ond  3  per  cent.  Protestants. 

Moravia  sends  36  members  to  the  Austrian  reichstag, 
9  of  tliese  representing  the  l.inded  proprietors,  16  Ihij 
towns  and  chaialeis  of  coni.n.cvce,  and  il  llio  pcasactiy, 


M  O  R  — M  0  R 


Sll 


Proviucial  affairs  are  managed  by  the  landtag,  consisting 
of  the  Roman  Catholic  archbishop  and  bishop,  30  repre- 
sentatives of  tlie  landed  gentry,  37  representatives  of  the 
to^vns  and  chambers  of  commerce,  and  31  representatives 
of  the  country  districts.  There  are  six  courts  of  justice 
of  the  first  insta,nce  in  Moravia,  and  one  of  the  second 
instance  (at  Eriinn),  whence  appeal  lies  to  the  supreme 
court  at  Vienna.  For  military  and  judicial  purposes 
Moravia  is  united  with  Austrian  Silesia. 

Moravia  belongs  to  the  group  of  old  Slavonic  states 
which  have  preserved  their  nationality  while  losing  their 
political  independence.  Upwards  of  70  per  cent,  of  the 
inhabitants  are  Slavs,  who  are  scarcely  distinguishable 
from  their  Bohemian  neighbours.  The  differences  in 
dialect  between  the  two  countries  are  very  slight,  and  are 
being  gradually  lost  in  a  common  literary  language.  The 
name  of  Czech,  however,  is  usually  reserved  for  the 
Bohemians,  while  the  Slavs  of  Moravia  and  West  Hungary 
are  called  Moravians  and  Slovaks.  The  zechs  have  lost 
sight  of  iheir  ancient  tribal  names,  but  the  Moravians  are 
still  divided  into  numerous  secondary  groups  (Hovaks, 
Hanaks,  itc),  differing  sUghtly  in  costume  and  dialect. 
The  peasants  usually  wear  a  national  costume.  In  the 
south  of  Moravia  are  a  few  thousand  Croats,  still  preserving 
their  manners  and  language  after  three  centui'ies'  separation 
from  their  kinsmen  in  Croatia ;  and  in  the  north-e^.st  are 
numerous  Poles.  The  Germans  form  about  26  per  cent. 
of  the  population,  and  are  found  mostly  in  the  towns  and 
in  the  border  districts.  The  Jews  are  the  best  educated 
of  the  inhabitants,  and  in  a  few  small  towns  form  a  full 
half  of  the  population.  Their  sympathies  generally  lie 
ivith  the  Germans.  In  1S80  the  poj'ulation  was  3,153,407, 
showing  an  increase  of  136,133  since  1800.  Moravia  is 
one  of  the  most  densely- populated  parts  of  Au-stria-Hungafy, 
the  proportion  being  252  persons  per  square  m.ile.  About 
12  per  cent,  of  the  births  are  illegitimate.  The  chief  to\vns 
are  Briinn,  the  capital  and  industrial  centre  (S2,G60  irdia- 
bitants),  Olmiitz,  a  strong  fortress  defending  the  "  Moravian 
Gate"  (20,176  inhabitants),  Znaim,  and  Iglau. 

History. ~Kt  the  earliest  period  of  which  we  have  any  record 
Moravia  was  occupieil  by  the  Boii,  the  Celtic  race  which  has  per- 
petuated its  name  in  Bohemia.  Afterwards  it  was  ir.lialiited  by  the 
Gerniauic  Qiiadi,  who  accompanied  the  Vandals  in  theii-  westw.ard 
Diiffratioti ;  and  thoy  were  replaced  in  the  5th  centiu^  by  the  Rugii 
and  Heruli.  The  latter  tribes  were  succeeded  about  tbe  year  550  A.n. 
by  the  Lombards,  and  these  in  their  turn  were  soon  forced  to  retire 
befoR'  an  overwhelming  invasion  of  Slavs,  who,  on  theh  settlement 
there,  took  the  name  ot  Moravians  (German,  Mchmnen  or  JUahrcn) 
from  the  river  Morava.  These  new  colonists  became  the  pemianent 
inhabitants  of  this  disti-ict,  and  in  spite  of  the  hostility  of  the 
Avars  on  the  east  founded  the  kingdom  of  Great  itoravia,  which 
was  considerably  more  extensive  than  the  province  now  bearing 
t^ie  name.  Towards  the  end  of  the  Sth  century  lliey  aided  Charle- 
m.agne  in  putting  an  end  to  the  Avarldngdom,  and  were  rewarded 
by  receiving  part  of  it,  corresponding  to  Kortli  Hungary,  as  a  fief 
of  the  German  emperor,  who.'so  supremacy  they  also  acknowledged 
more  or  less  for  their  other  possessions.  After  the  death  of 
Charleraa^ie  the  Moi-avian  princes  took  advantage  of  the  dissen- 
sions of  his  successors  to  enlarge  their  territories  and  assert  their 
iiid'^pcndcnce,  and  Rastislaus  {circa  850)  even  fomied  an  alliance 
irtth  ine  Bulgarians  and  the  ByMutine  emperor.  The  chief  result 
of  the  alliance  v,-ith  the  latter  w.as  the  conversion  of  the  Jloravians 
to  Christianity  by  two  Greek  monks,  Cyril  and  Methodius,  des- 
patched from  Constantinople.  Kastislaus  finally  fell  into  the 
hands  of  Loxiis  the  German,  who  blinded  him,  and  forced  him 
to  end  his  days  as  a  monk  ;  but  his  successor,  Suatopluk  ( ou.  890), 
was  equally  vigorous,  and  extended  the  kingdom  of  Great  iloraria 
to  the  Oder  on  the  west  and  the  Gran  on  the  east.  At  this  period 
there  seemed  a  strong  probability  of  the  junction  of  the  north- 
western and  soutli-eastcrn  Slavs,"  and  tho  formation  of  a  -great 
Slavonic  power  to  the  oast  of  the  German  empire.  This  prospect, 
however,  was  dissipated  by  tho  invasions  of  the  Mag>'ar  hordes  in 
the  10th  century,  tlie  brant  of  which  was  borne  by  lloravia.  The 
invaders  were  encouraged  by  the  German  monarchs  and  aided  by 
the  dissensions  and  mismanagement  of  the  successoiB  of  Suatopluk, 
and  in  a  short  time  completely  suMued  the  eastern  part  of  Great 
iloi'avia.     The  name  of  iloi-avia  was  henceforth  coiifiued  to  the 


district  to  wl.i.-Ii  it  now  applies.  For  about  a  century  the  posses, 
siou  of  this  nurchlaiid  was  disputed  by  Hungary,  Pohmd,  and 
Bohemia,  but  in  1029  it  was  finally  incnrporattd  with  Bohemia, 
and  so  became  an  integral  part  of  the  German  empire.  Towards 
the  close  of  the  12th  century  Moravia  was  raised  to  the  dignity  of 
a  margraviate,  but  with  the  proviso  that  it  should  be  held  as  a  fief 
of  the  crown  of  Bohemia.  It  henceforth  shared  the  fortunes  of 
this  country,  and  was  Ubually  assigned  as  an  apanage  to  younger 
membei-s  of  tlie  Bohemian  royal  house.  In  HIO  Jobst,  margrave 
of  iloravia,  was  made  emperor  of  Germany,  but  died  a  few  months 
after  his  election.  In  152fi,  on  the  death  of  Louis  II.  of  Hungary, 
iloravia  came  with  tho  rest  of  that  prince's  possessions  into  the 
hands  of  the  Austrian  house.  During  tho  Thirty  Years'  "War  the 
depopulation  o(  Moravia  was  so  great  that  after  the  peace  of  West- 
phalia the  st.rtes-general  published  an  edict  giving  every  man 
penn;=sion  to  take  two  wives,  in  order  to  "repeople  the  country." 
After  the  Seven  Years'  War  Moravia  was  united  in  one  province 
with  the  remnant  of  Silesia,  but  in  1849  it  was  made  a  separate 
and  independent  crownland.  The  most  noticeable  feature  of  recent 
MoiMvian  histoij  has  been  the  active  sympathy  of  its  inhabitants 
with  the  anti-Teutonic  homo-rule  igitatiouof  the  Bohemian  Czechs 
(see  BoHE.\in). 

/liiihoriliM.— Dudik,  Ualireiu  altgnnclne  GeschictiU  (Brfjnn,  1860.76);  Tctny 
Die  .Karkgriifschaft  Mdimn,  topogmphixh,  elaliUiicfi,  tind  hiilorlsch  OMC/ifMert 
(Brlnm,  1835-40);  DElverf,  BtUrdge  itir  Oachicitt  der Ne^toeslallwm  Miikrtm 
lOT  !,un  Jahrhiindtrt  (1807);  Trampler,  HiimaUkuridi  dirr  Hark  iUhrcn 
(Vienna,  lb, 7);  SialUUscM  Jahrl-iicUr  ot  the  Imperial  SUtlsUcal  ComtaiBsioa 
CNienna).  y   p  j,  j 

_  MORAVIAN  BRETHREN,  The,  are  a  society  of  Chris- 
tians whose  history  can  be  traced  back  to  tho  year  1457 
and  their  origin  found  among  the  religious  movements  in 
Bohemia  which  followed  the  martyrdom  of  John  Huss  by 
the  council  of  Constance.    The  beginniug.s  of  tho  Bohemian 
Bretliien  (for  that  was  their  earlier  name)  are  somewhat 
obscure.    The  followers  of  Huss  broke  up  into  two  factions, 
one  of  which,  the  Calixtines,  was  willing  to  acknowledge 
allegiance  to  Rome,  provided  the  "  compacts  "  of  the  council 
of  Basel  permitting  the  Lord's  Supper  «ji  utraque  sjx'c'-' 
were  maintained,  and  in  the  end  it  became  the  uationr.l 
church  of  Bohemia :  the  other,  the  Taborites,  refused  all 
terms  of  reconciliation,  and  appealed  to  arms.     Separate 
from  both  these  were  many  pious  people  who  were  content 
to  worship  God  in  simple  fasliion,  in  quiet  meetings  for 
prayer  and  Scriptm-e-reading,   like   the   Gottesfreunds  of 
Germany,  and  who  called  themselves  Brethren.     Boheiaian 
historians  have  conclusively  shown  that  the  Brethren  ret  pre- 
sent the  religious  kernel  of  the  Hussite  movement,  and'  do 
not  come  either  from  tho  German  Waldeases  or  from  the 
Taborites.     Before  1-157  many  cf  these  quiet  Christians 
were  Icnovn  as  the  Brethren  of  Ch.elcic,  and  were  tho 
followers  of  Peter  Chclcicky,  a  Bohemian,  whose  religious 
influence,  strongly  Puritan  in  its  character,  seems  to  have 
been  inferior  only  to  that  of  Huss.     In  thatye?,r  the  Calis- 
tine  leader,  Rokyzana,  wishing  to  protect  them,  permitted 
his  nephew  Gregory  to  gather  tliem  together  at  KunewaU 
near  Senftenberg,  and  form  them  into  a  community.     This 
meeting  was  really  the  foundation  of  tho  Brethren  or  Unitas 
Fvatrum,  and  its  founder  Gregory  announced  that  he  and 
his  companions  received  and  taught  the  rejection  of  oaths, 
of  tho  military  profeiision,  of  all  official  rank,  titles,  raid 
endovvments,  and  of  a  hierarchy.     They  did  not  profess 
commuDism,  but  they  held  that  the  rich  should  ^;ive  of 
their  riches  to  the  poor,  and  that  all  Clu'istians  should  live 
po  poarly  a3  possible  in  the  fashion  of  the  apostolic  com-l 
mi'.-it';    &f-  Jerusalem.      At    the   synod '  of   Lhota   near 
Reichenau,  in  l-ib7,  they  constituted  themselves  into  a 
cliurch  separate  fro-r.  the  CalLxtine  or  national  church  of 
Bohemia.     They  appointed  ministers  of  their  own  electic^n 
and  with  the  guidance  of  the  "  lot,"  and  had  an  organi;;?.^ 
tion  and  discipline  of  their  own  ;  at  their  hsad  was  a  bishop, 
who,   it  is  said,   received    ordination  froz:  the  Austrian 
Waldenses,  but  apostolic  succession  among  the  BrctLren 
is  one  of  the  most  obscure  parts  of  their  history. 

The  constitution  of  tho  society  was  revised  at  a  second 
synod  held  at  Lhota  under  the  direction  of  Luke  of  Prague, 
who  may  ba  regarded  as  their  second  founder.     This  re- 


812 


organization  on.ihl.,]  tiic  woiefy  to  grow  rapidlv  Tn  fl,. 
.arher  years  of  t),o  1  Gth  centu./tho  fnitastlLa  no^ 
m  congretjations  ,n  Bohemia  and  Moravia  with  150  OOO 
m,™bor.s,_and  inch.ding  Poland,  en.braced  thre     ,  ov'fces 

inwr;t^amonrthrRT'  "'  Germany  awakened  lively 
nurest   among  the   Brethren,  and   some  unsuccessful  at^ 
Km|,ts   were    made   under  the   leadership  of  Au'us  1 1 
■  n/te  with  the   Lutheran  Church  HoOS  }'iiL^lT\ 
.he  Caivinist  reformation  reached  Bo wft^'eBLl:" 

P    L^if       J  ,      ,  "^'''""  anti-Reformation,   instigated   bv 
,.«.,  .»,  ,WrW  i„  ,h,  H,r™d  cEbo?  M.;/^  .' 

Ss ': ,  i"' "tsr"  s,:t  .*  -"  -  "*•' 
,?s™r°ir' °" '"  """^  •'»•'*•"■''' "'"la" 

copate  had  been  continued,  and  in  1735  Divid  IVittl    ' 

CimrcTThrnef  \tf "'"'  °^  'he' '^Iwef  ^^ 
+^^17      ,  settlement  was  not,  however  destined 

The  ernigrants  at  Herrnhut  attended  the  paris^^  church  S 
Lc  thelsdorf,  and  were  sin>ply  a  Christian  soc  e  y  ^^-thfn 

en>selvesasachurch  mthin  the  church,  or  the  BrethrTn's 
™.wastherevivaUftn;^L:^-„'^-:^^-r^ 


M  O  K  — H  O  R 


woincn,  are  formalJv  set  ainrt  s,  jcoIvt«      n 

gieal.     Special  services  ai-,-Vs«lorf>f-     ,^'<'.^™'^'"P  ■■lUur- 

25th  June,  6th  Julv,  13th  and  2Ist  A>  ^,J '  ^rlu  o*''^'  1'"'  »■"! 
October,  and  13th  Novcu  u'  iL^t^^l'  l^"" .?,=I?'ember,  31st 
feet-washingand  ti.e  us-  of  tie  lot  in  iw?  T  '"'  ''"''*•  '""  "'" 
in  marriages  have  fall™  into  di  use  TWe  of" tLlt™':"*'"-  "<^ 
was  abolished  in  1818  ■'^"se  01  ttie  lot  m  marriages 

do^Hre:':s7or;,dL'r':Ld:r;?i^^''°r'r^'  ="=-^'  ^"' "« 

and  in  the  ,y,,,w„'n;  A:,,,//  „„  '  '"  ""^Easter  morning  litanv, 
by  the  s.vnod-'oasrgf  •-  1)  thlt'Sl'^  '^?"?;""«  points"  (settled 
and  praJtice   m  thoLt  I J  that  Scripture  is  the  only  rule  of  faith 

of  GoT  tel'it  ,er  %?«  e  ,'?^Tr'^>°'  ^"?"  "^'"«.  (»)  the  lo' 
Jesus  Christ   ^1  n,',r  ,  re^l  Godhead  and  the  real  humanity  of 

before  HimSorha:":'c'?fi'o:of''/°  °°^'i  '"'  »"  JustSoa 
of  the  IIoi;  GhostTnd  the  operatioL  of  H  "''"''  '^^'''^  ^«tri"'= 
as  the  fruit  of  the  Spirit  «f?refn  f^^"  ^^^i  '' '  £"<"*  '«"'':-^ 
another  in  Christ  Jesus«)  the  1/  ""'"P  "^ ''^'i"'""  one  with 
and  the  resuireotion  of%  fe'dead  un^liro',"f,?i  ""  "l""'  '"-S'^^' 
two  divisons.  (1)  Boiiirlp^  ^„„„t  ^  ,  '"•~^'"*  <=mbiaees 
mission,  are  carrS  onttch  prSe""!  r^Ge,^""'"'  ''°""' 
there  13  a  peculiar  home  mi«i,.V  „.ii  i\,  r}^  Geruiau  provii.ec 
from  1729.^  Its  object"'  unlXian  It^,'  f 'T"™'  ^""'■''  '^^<^' 
spiritual  life  by  means  addTtional  to  t^L  'Vf^'^  "■"•  ''°''t" 

lished  churches,  and  does  not  mlk"  ^°'%  ^^"'"^"^  ^^  "'^  "t^b- 

principle  of  estabS?n^L      V  °"f '".n  «'»*  is  conducted  on  the 

vinces  forty-seven  boai'dri-school  'for  bo  :?.""  7  '^'  ""™  P™" 
Mith  the  Moravian  Cluirel  At  .br.~?"i'^  S" Is  net  connected 
are  educated.  ^"""^n-     At  these  schools  nearly  2500  pu;.i!  > 

(4)  Foreign  JIfissioiis.— The  lloravi^r,  n,„„i,    • 
zation  by  Ziuzendorf  1,»»  1,„1„  ,7°"\'™  Church  since  its  reoigai.i. 
The  thi?d  jub  ee  of  missTon,  w,'""TT "''^  ?^'-'"'^  >'"'  oxcdtncc. 
period  began  w  th  1732  Xnt        '^^'''•'"""1  i"  1882.     The  firet 

&itschni?nn  w  re  se'it  t^  preadi  ?o™th^°"''''  ^Tl^''^  ^^"-^ 
when  it  ended  in  3  7S9   «,/T     i    ,,   j     "^Sroes  of  St  Thomas; 

occu,:,ying27ltatioi  'li'lssfth  ^f  ''I  ^'f"'"  ^"'l  ^'^'^'^ 
^^1   7",.  7>  ,       .  "•  ■'-v'iscants,  and  76,646  converts. 

ISro.     I't  nowcontansfourcr.."    T'  '"^'T-''""'''  '"  '^''°^'^' 
legal  sanction.  «"gregations,  and  in  ISSO  obtained 

(d)  The  Leper  MUsion  was  begun  in  1829  in  <!r,„ii,  at  ■  -,     ' 

earned  on  there  till  1S67  when  the  Pno-l ki:  r-  ^'"''■^-  """^ 

acl,ai>lai„  to  do  the  work      UrKu™™";'''' "^ 
established  in  1867,  a,  d  formallv  t^k^^        T  I'l!  ^7;"^'™  "^ 
encc  of  the  Unity  hiTssi  ^  ^"  ^^  ""'  '''^'""'  "■^"- 


'•" -'""«'«  ius  a  cnurcn. 

diocesan.      Thev  ore  annointcl  I.v  ti,,.  "'""""■,  b"t  they  are  not 


SteUisiics. — 

r/«:  r/ira  Uonic  Provinces. 
Bishops  .         .  J  A 

Ticsbytcrs  and  Deacons  291 
Communicants        .     J8  871 


j  Foreign  and  Bolvemian 

I    Bishops 

I    Jlissioiiailes  . 

Temale  Agents       ', 

Native  Jlinistei-s  and 
Assistants  . 

Native  Agcnis 

Communicants 


Missions. 


167 
110 

35 

1,524 

2  vols     London,  1825  ;  Bost,  llisl.  je  ftw  «  ',l-.  ?7  '^"''  '"'""'  *'»««,, 

of  ra°f  ^f"['^^;r^BS;;  itlTe7tb^^  ^ri 

ici    1.  TV.  Lit    bciiinr  liou'vh-d  P  P  b,.  ♦!.„  J        .  , 

Loirc-Liforicurc,  E.  Iv  tlA     ■    111.  ■,(••'  \^'l'''<^"^  ''^ 

.        -.y  iij.u  ci  iiie-ot-A  ilatne,  X.  by  Cot«3 


M  O  R  — M  O  11 


813 


du  Xord,  and  V,'.  by  I'mHti,re.  Its  chief  town,  Vannes, 
is  248  miles  west-south-west  of  Paris  in  a  direct  line  and 
310  by  rail.  From  the  ilontagnes  Ifoires  on  the  northern 
fronfier  the  western  portion  of  Jforbilian  slopes  southward 
towards  Finistire,  watered  by  the  Quimperle,  the  Blavet 
mth  its  affluent  the  >Scorff,  and  the  Aiiray;  the  eastern 
portion,  on  the  other  hand,  dips  towards  the  south-east  in  the 
direction  of  the  couiiij  of  the  Oust  and  its  feeders,  which 
fall  into  the  Vilaine.  Though  the  Hontagnes  Noires  con- 
tain the  highest  point  (975  feet)  in  the  department,  the  most 
stiiking  orographic  feature  of  Morbihan  is  tlie  dreary,  tree- 
less, streamless  tract  of  moorland  and  marsh  known  as  the 
Landes  of  Lauvaux,  which  extends  (west-north-west  to  east- 
south-east)  with  a  width  of  from  1  to  3  miles  for  a  distance 
of  31  miles  between  the  valley  of  the  Ciaie  and  that  of  the 
Arz  (affluents  of  the  Oust).  A  striking  contrast  to  this 
district  is  afforded  by  the  various  inlets  of  the  sea,  whose 
shores  are  clothed  with  vegetation  of  exceptional  richness, 
large  fig-trees,  rose-laurels,  and  aloes  growing  as  if  in 
Algeria.  The  coast- line  is  exceedingly  irregular :  the 
mouth  of  the  Yilaino  (the  longest  river  of  the  department), 
the  peninsula  of  Euis,  the  great  gulf  of  Morbihan  (Inner 
Sea),  from  which  the  department  takes  its  name,  and"  the 
mouth  of  the  Auray,  the  long  Quiberon  peninsula  attached 
to  the  mainland  by  the  narrow  isthmus  of  Fort  Penthifevre, 
the  deep-brancliing  estuary  of  Etel,  the  mouths  of  the 
Blavet  and  the  Scoi-ff  uniting  to  form  the  port  of  Lorient, 
and,  finally,  on  the  borders  of  Finistfere  the  mouth  of  the 
Laita,  follow  each  other  in  rapid  succession.  Off  the  coast 
lie  the  islandsof  Groix,Bellfe-isle,  Houat,andHoedik.  Vessels 
drawing  13  feet  can  ascend  the  Vilaine  as  far  as  Redon ; 
the  Blavet  is  canalized  throughout  its  course  through  the 
department ;  and  the  Oust,  as  part  of  the  canal  from  Nantes 
to  Brest,  forms  a  great  waterway  by  Eedon,  Josselin,  Rohan, 
and  Pontivy.  The  climate  of  Morbihan  is  characterized 
by  great  moisture  and  mildness,  due  to  the  influence  of  the 
Gulf  Stream. 

Of  the  2625  square  miles  fonniug  the  department,  nearly,  one 
hair  is  occupied  by  moonj  {landes),  arable  soil  formiug  little  more 
than  a  tliii-d  part  of  the  whole,  meadows  a  tenth,  and  woodlands 
a  efteenth.  The  horses  number  36,000,  horned  eattle  285,000, 
sheep  92,000,  pigs  60,000,  goats  6000,  and  beehives  76,000.  In 
1882  the  agricultural  produce  comprised  3,751,680  bushels  of  rye 
and  1,544,170  bushels  of  wheat;  and  considerable  quantities  of 
hu^ckwheat,  oats,  potatoes,  pease  and  beans,  chestnuts,  beetroot, 
hemp,  colza,  and  flax  are  grown.  A  little  wiue  also  is  made,  but 
tile  usual  liquor  of  the  district  is  cider  (inajuifactured  to  the  extent 
of  11  to  l3  million  gallons  per  annum).  The  sea-ware  gathered 
aioug  the  coast  helps  greatly  to  improve  the  soil.  Outside  of 
Loiieut  there  is  little  industrial  activity  in  Morbilian,  though 
canvas,  leather,  preserved  foods,  paper,  and  chemical  products 
derived  from  the  sea  are  all  manuf:*£tured.  Salt  marshes  give 
employment  to  400  hands,  and  yield  on  an  average  9502  tons  of 
salt;  and  slate,  kaolin,  iron-ore,  and  granite  are  also  worked.  The 
catching  and  curing  of  sardines  aiid  the  breeding  of  oysters  form 
the  business  of  many  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  coast,  who  also  fish 
f6r  anchovies,  lobsters,  kc.,  for  tinning.  There  are  154  miles  of 
railway  in  the  department,  and  it  was  intended  (1883)  that  the  line 
from  Nantes  to  Brest  sliould  have  branches  from  Auray  to  St  Brieuc 
and  to  Quiberon,  aud  from  Questcmbert  to  Ploermel.  Morbilian 
is  divided  into  four  arrondissements, — Vannes,  Lorient,  Ploermel, 
and  Pontivy — 37  cantons,  and  249  commuues.  The  population  in 
1881  was  621,614.  •   ' 

Few  departments  contain  so  many  localities  interesting  for  their 
historical  associatione.  Besides  the  megalithie  monuments  of 
C.iRX.\c  (2S00  inhabitants)  (.q.v.)  and  of  Locmariaqucr  (20i)0), 
may  be  mentioned — Sarzeau  (5720)  with  its  castle  of  Sueinio,  one 
of  tho  ancient  dukes  of  Brittany ;  Josselin  (2710)  with  the  tomb 
of  Olivier  de  Clisson,  constable  of  France,  and  of  his  second  wife 
Marguerite  de  Rohan  ;  the  castle  of  the  Kohans,  and  in  the  neighbour- 
hood a  column  in  memory  of  the  "Combat  of  tlie  Thirty  ;"  Guenu-ne 
(1570)  and  the  chateau  of  the  Rohan  Guemenc  family  ;  Le  Palais 
(4685),  the  chief  phicc  in  Belle-isle,  containing  the  chateau  of 
i'ouquet  (Louis  XlV.'s  superintendent  of  fiiiance)  and  the  hospital 
erected  by  his  wife.  Quiberon  (2380)  is  associated  uith  the  disiister 
of  the  French  emigres  ;  Hennebont  (60:'n)  has  a  magnificent  lailway 
viaduct  over  ihe  Blavet,  and  La  Kocho  Bernard  (1230)  a  suspension 


bridge  over  the  Vilaine,  C46  feet  long  and  108  feet  above  spring 
tides. 

MORDAUXT,  CH.UiLEs.  See  Peterbokough,  ILmL  op, 
MORDVLNLVXS,  more  correctly  Moedva  or  Mordvs, 
are  a  people  numbering  about  one  million,  of  Finnish 
origin,  belonging  to  the  Ural-iUtaic  family,  who  inhabit 
the  middle  Volga  provinces  of  Russia  and  spread  in  small 
detached  communities  to  the  south  and  east  of  these. 
Their  settlement  in  the  basin  of  tho  Volga  is  of  high 
antiquity.  One  of  the  two  great  branches  into  which 
tliey  are  divided,  the  Aorses  (now  Erzya),  is  mentioned 
by  Ptolemy  as  dwelling  between  the  Baltic  Sea  and  the 
Ural  mountains,  whilst  the  Aorses  of  A.sia  occupied  at 
the  same  time  the  countrj'  to  tho  north-east  of  the  Caspian 
between  the  Volga  and  the  Jaxartes.  Thuir  king  is  said 
to  have  come  with  200,000  horsemen  to  aid  llithradates 
in  his  wars.  Strabo  mentions  also  the  Aorses  as  iidiabit- 
ants  of  the  country  between  the  Don,  the  Caspian  Se.i, 
and  the  Caucasus.  The  name  of  Mordvs  is  mentioned 
for  the  first  time  by  Jordanes,  and  they  were  known 
imder  the  same  name  to  the  Russian  annalist  Nestor.  The 
Russians  made  raids  on  the  Mordvs  in  the  12th  century, 
and  after  tho  fall  of  Kasan  they  rapidly  invaded  and 
coloniied  their  abodes.  The  Mordvs  now  occupy  the 
Russia!)  provinces  of  Simbirsk,  Penza,  Samara,  and  Nijni- 
Novgorod,  as  well  as  those  of  Saratofi'  and  Tamboff.  But 
their  villages  are  dispersed  among  those  of  the  Russians, 
and  they  constitute  only  10  to  12  per  cent,  of  the  popu- 
lation in  the  four  fir->t-named  provinces,  and  from  5  to 
6  per  cent,  in  the  last  two.  They  are  unequally  distri- 
buted over  this  area  in  ethnographical  islands,  and  con- 
stitute as  much  as  23  to  H  per  cent,  of  the  population  of 
several  districts  of  the  governments  of  Tamboff,  Simbirsk, 
Samara,  and  Saratoff,  and  only  2  or  3  per  cent,  in  other 
districts  of  the  same  provinces.  A  small  number  of  Mordvs 
are  found  also  in  the  provinces  of  Ufa,  Orenbui-g,  Astrakhan, 
and  even  in  Siberia  as  far  east  as  the  river  Tom.  They 
are  divided  into  two  great  branches,  the  Erzya  and  the 
Moksha,  differing  in  their  ethnological  features  and  in  their 
language.  The  southern  branch,  or  the  Moksha,  have  a 
darker  skin  and  darker  eyes  and  hair  than  the  northern. 
A  third  branch,  the  ICaratays,  is  due  to  mixture  with 
Tatars,  whilst  a  fourth  branch,  mentioned  by  several 
authors,  is,  according  to  Mainoff,  but  a  local  name  for 
pure  Mordvs.  Theu-  language  is  considered  by  M.  AMqvist 
as  the  third  branch  of  the  Western  Finnish  family,  the  two 
other  branches  being  the  Laponian  and  the  Baltic  Fimiish, 
Avhich  last  embodies  now  the  lang-aages  of  the  Karelians, 
the  Tavastes,  the  Wotes,  the  Wespes,  the  Esthcs,  and  the 
Lives.  The  Mordvs  are  for  the  most  part  completely 
Russified,— even  the  Mokshas  who  consider  themselves  as 
the  only  pure  Mordvs, — yet  they  have  well  maintained 
their  ethnological  features,  and  can  be  easily  distinguished 
even  when  living  completely  as  Russians.  They  have 
neai'ly  quite  forgotten  their  own  language,  ordy  a  few 
women  remembering  it  among  the  Mokshas ;  but  they 
have  maintained  a  good  deal  of  their  old  national  dress, 
especially  the  women,  whose  profusely  embroidered  skirts, 
original  hah-dress,  large  earrings  which  sometimes  are 
merely  hare-tails,  and  numeroas  necklaces  covering  all  the 
chest  and  consisting  of  all  possible  ornaments  easily  dis- 
tinguish them  from  Russian  women.  They  have  mostly 
dark  hair,  but  blue  eyes,  generally  small  and  rather  narrow. 
The  cephalic  inde.x  of  the  Mordvs  is  very  near  to  that  of 
the  Films.  They  are  brachyeephalous,  or  sub-brachycepha- 
lous,  and  a  few  are  mesaticephalous.  They  are  finely  biult, 
rather  tall  and  strong,  and  broad-chested.  Their  chief  occu- 
pation is  agriciUture  ;  they  work  harder  and  (in  the  basin 
of  the  Moksha)  arc  more  prosperous  than  their  Russian 
neighbours.      Thtir   caoacities  as  carpenters   were   well 


814 


M  O  R  — H  O  R 


knoim  in  Okl  Russia,  and  Ivan  tlio  Terrible  used  them  to 
liuild  bridges  and  clear  forests  during  bis  advance  on  ICasan. 
At  present  th:-y  manufacture  in  their  villages  great 
quantities  of  wooden  ware  of  various  sorts.  They  are  also 
"Tcat  masters  of  apiculture,  and  the  commonwealth  of  bees 
often  appears  in  their  poetry  and  religious  beliefs.  All 
explores  are  unanimous  in  recognizing  their  honesty, 
morality,  and  sympathetic  character ;  it  is  noticed  also 
that  thoy  have  remarkable  lingiustic  capacities,  and  learn 
with  great  cose  not  only  BAis.sian  but  also  several  Finnish 
and  Turkish  dialects.  Nearly  all  are  Christians ;  they 
received  baptism  in  the  reign  of  Elizabeth ;  the  Koncon- 
formists  have  recently  made  many  fervent  proselytes  among 
them.  But  they  still  preserve  very  much  of  their  own 
rich  mythology,  which  they  have  adapted  to  a  certain  ex- 
tent to  the  Christian  religion.  They  have  preserved  also, 
especially  the  less  Kussitied  Moksha,  the  practice  of  kid- 
napping brides,  with  the  usual  battles  between  the  party 
of  the  bridegroom  and  that  of  the  family  of  the  liride.  The 
worship  of  trees,  water  (especially  of  the  v,'ater-diTinity 
which  favours  marriage),  the  sun  or  Shkay,  who  is  the  chief 
divinity,  the  moon,  the  thunder,  and  the  frost,  and  that 
devoted  to  the  home-divinity  Kardaz-serko  can  be  seen  in 
full  force  among  them ;  and  a  small  stone  altar  or  flat 
stone  covering  a  .^mall  pit  to  receive  the  blood  of  slaughtered 
animals  can  be  found  in  very  many  houses.  Their  burial- 
customs  are  of  a  quite  pagan  character.  On  the  fortieth 
day  after  the  death  of  a  kinsman  the  dead  is  not  only 
supposed  to  return  home  but  a  member  of  his  household, 
dressed  in  his  dress,  plays  his  part,  and,  coming  from  the 
grave,  speaks  in  his  name.  The  practice  of  animal  sacrifice 
is  still  deep  rooted  among  the  Mokshas,  who  continue  to 
drink  the  warm  blood  of  immolated  animals. 

Tho  Mordvs  have  always  liad  a  great  attraction  for  Russian 
incpiirei's  ;  Strahlenberg,  Georgi,  Pallas,  and  especially  Lepekliin 
have  wi-itten  about  them.  Melnikoff  has  published  in  several 
Ku.'isian  periodicals  interesting  sketches  of  tlieir  religious  beliefs. 
A  gieat  number  of  smaller  sketches  have  appeared  in  periodicals  ; 
th:-:-;;  are  enumerated  by  BiainolT  in  the  Izvcsiia  of  the  Russian  Geo- 
graphic-al  Society  for  1877.  Entrusted  by  the  Geograpliical  Society 
\vitti  ihe  study  of  this  race,  Slainoff  has  recently  made  extensive 
anthroixdogical  measurements  and  studies  of  their  customs  and 
Gommon4aw.  The  results  are  published,  but  not  yet  in  full,  in 
tiie  Izfcstia  of  the  Russian  Geogi-aphical  Society  for  1878,  and  in 
«ie  peiiodicals  Slovo  for  1879,  and  Old  and  Kcw  Jimsia  ioT  1878. 
They  were  to  appear  in  full  in  tho  Memoirs  of  the  Society. 

MORE,  HAi^NAH  (1745-1833),  who  was  born  at  Staple- 
ton  near  Bristol  in  1745,  may  be  said  to  have  made  three 
reputations  jn  tho  com-se  of  her  long  life  :  first,  as  a  clever 
verse-writer  and  witty  converser  in  the  circle  of  Johnson, 
Reynolds,  and  Garrick ;  next,  as  an  aniinated  writer  on 
mosal  and  religious  subjects  on  the  Puritanic  side ;  and 
lastly,  as  a  practical  philanthropist.  She  was  the  youngest 
but  one  of  the  five  daughters  of  Jacob  More,  a  scion  of  a 
landed  Norfolk  family,  who  taught  a  school  at  Stapleton 
in  Gloucestershire.  Tho  sisters  established  a  boarding- 
school  at  Bristol  in  1767.  Hannah's  first  literary  efforts 
were  pastoral  plays,  suitable  for  young  ladies  to  act, 
published  in  1773  under  the  title  of  'A  Search  after 
Happiness.  Jletastasio  was  one  of  her  literary  models; 
on  his  opera  of  Reyulus  she  based  a  drama,  The  Injiexihle 
Capiit-e,  published  in  1774.  An  annuity  from  a  wealthy 
admirer  set  the  young  lady  free  for  literary  pursuits. 
Some  verses  on  Garriek's  Lear  led  to  an  acquaintance ; 
Miss  More  was  taken  up  by  the  gi-eat  female  Jfa;cenas, 
Mrs  Montague ;  and  her  unaffected  enthusiasm,  simplicity, 
vivacity,  and  wit  won  the  hearts  of  the  whole  Johnson 
set,  the  great  lexicographer  himself  being  especially  fasci- 
nated. Miss  ilore  was  petted,  complimented,  and  en- 
couraged to  write.  Her  ballad,  Eldred  of  the  liower.  was 
praised  and  quoted  by  the  liighest  living  authorities ; 
and  she  wrote  for  Oarrick  the  tragedy  Percy,  which  was 


acted  with  great  success  in  1777.  Another  drama,  The 
Fatal  Falsehood,  produced  in  1779  after  Garriek's  death, 
was  less  successful.  In  these  dramas  .she  borrows  from 
Shakespeare  situation,  imagery,  and  phraseology  with 
greater  freedom  than  modern  criticism  would  tolerate ; 
but  they  are  written  with  great  vigour,  freshness,  and 
effect.  Rer  Sacred  Dramas  appeared  in  17S2.  These 
and  the  sprightly  octosyllabic  poems  Bas-BUu  and  Flmio 
(17SG)  mark  her  gradual  transition  to  more  serious  views 
of  life,  which  were  fully  expressed  in  prose  in  her  ThoughU 
on  the  Manners  of  the  Great  (17SS),  and  An  Estimate  of  the 
Rcliijion  of  the  Fashionable  World  (1790).  She  had  never 
been  overpowered  by  the  flattering  reception  given  her  in 
fashionable  society ;  she  had  received  its  attentions  ^vith 
misgivings  and  reservations,  never  touching  cards,  keeping 
Sunday  strictly,  and  preferring  company  where  she  could 
have  serious  conversation  ;  and  finally,  soon  after  Garriek's 
death,  she  set  herself  against  theatre-going  luider  any 
pretence.  There  is  great  uniformity  of  tone  and  topic  in 
her  ethical  books  and  tracts  : — Strictures  on  Female  Educa- 
tion (1799),  Hints  toviards  forminy  the  Character  of  a 
Young  Princess  (1805),  Goelchs  in  Search  of  a  Wife  (only 
nominally  a  story,  1809),  Practical  Piety  {\8llj.  Chris- 
tian Morals  (1813),  Character  of  St  Paid  (1815),  Moral 
Sketches  (1818).  'The  tone  is  uniformly  animated;  the 
WTiting  fresh  and  vivacious ;  her  favourite  subjects  the 
minor  immoralities,  the  thoughtless  self-indulgences  and 
infirmities  which  are  rather  indirectly  than  dii-ectly  harmful. 
She  was  a  rapid  "\\Titer,  and  her  work  is  consequently 
discursive  and  formless  ;  but  there  was  an  originality  and 
force  in  her  way  of  putting  commonplace  sober  sense  and 
piety  that  fully  accoimts  for  her  extraordinary  popularity. 
An  interesting  epi.'<ode  in  her  Uteraiy  life  was  her  three 
years'  labour  in  writing  spirited  rhymes  and  prose  tales  in 
the  Cheap  Repository  .series  (1795-1798)  to  counteract  the 
doctrines  of  Tom  Paine  and  the  influence  of  the  French 
Revolution.  Two  millions  of  these  rapid  and  telling 
sketches  were  circulated  in  one  year,  teaching  the  poor  in 
rhetoric  of  most  ingenious  homeliness  to  rely  upon  the 
virtues  of  content,  sobriety,  humility,  industry,  reverence 
for  the  British  constitution,  hatred  of  the  French,  trust 
in  God  and  in  the  kindness  of  the  gentry.  Perhaps  the 
noblest  testimony  to  Hannah  Jlore's  sterling  worth  was 
her  indefatigable  philanthropic  work — her  long-continued 
exertions  to  improve  the  condition  of  the  children  in  the 
benighted  districts  in  the  neighbourhood  of  her  country 
residences  at  Cowslip  Green  and  Barley  Wood.  ■  Sh* 
limited  her  aims  strictly,  as  a  good  churchwoman  ant 
anti-Revolutionist,  to  teaching  them  to  read  good  books 
and  trying  to  raise  their  moral  tone ;  but  no  philanthropist 
ever  laboured  at  greater  self-sacrifice  or  with  purer  motives. 
In  her  serene  old  age,  philanthropists  from  all  parts  of  the 
world  made  jiilgrimages  to  see  the  bright  and  amiable  old 
lady,  and  she  retained  all  her  faculties  till  within  two 
years  of  her  death,  dying  at  Clifton  on  7th  September 
1833,  at  the  mature  age  of  eighty-seven. 

MORE,  Hexey  (1614-1687),  one  of  the  most  remark- 
able and  interesting  of  the  "Cambridge  Platonists,"  was 
born  at  Grantham  in  Lincolnshire  in  the  year  1G14.  His 
father  was  "  Alexander  More,  Esq.,  a  gentleman  of  fair 
estate  and  fortune,"  highly  sjioken  of  by  his  son,  who 
attributes  to  his  father  his  own  poetical  tastes  and  generous 
love  of  learning  from  his  early  youth.  Both  his  father 
and  mother,  ho  further  tells  us,  were  "  earnest  followers  of 
Calvin,"  but  he  himself  "  could  never  swallow  that  hard 
doctrine."  As  soon  as  ho  went  to  Eton  he  gave  himselS 
up  to  what  he  considered  a  more  genial  and  encouiMging 
train  of  religious  thought.  From  his  boyhood  in  the  Eton 
playing-fields  he  was  a  philosophical  and  religious  dreamer, 
and  he  describes  his  moods  of  religious  reverie  in  a  very 


MORE 


815 


interesting  manr.cr.'  Hi3  comraunings  and  ct.-'li/.ii,.-  ]:ave 
no  morbid  taint ;  they  are  the  natural  carriage  ol ;,  st  rangely 
gifted  spirit.  "  From  the  beginning  all  things  in  a  manner 
came  flowing  to  him,"  and  his  mind,  according  to  his  o\Yn 
Eayins,  "was  enlightonrd  with  a  sense  of  the  noblest 
theories  in  the  morning  of  his  days."  In  1G31  he  went 
to  Cambridge,  and  was  admitted  at  Christ's  College  abont 
the  time  Milton  was  leaving  it.  Ho  immersed  himself 
"  over  head  and  ears  in  the  study  of  pliilosoi'ihy,"  and  fe!! 
for  a  time  into  a  sort  of  scepticism,  from  which,  hov.evcr, 
lie  was  delivered  by  a  study  of  the  "Platonic  writers." 
He  wa-s  fascinated  especially  by  NeoPlatonism,  and  this 
fascination  never  left  him.  The  Tueotof/ia  Gennanica  also 
exerted  a  gi-eat  and  permanent  influence  over  him.  He 
entered  upon  a  course  of  spiritual  self-discipUne  which 
made  all  his  previous  studies  seem  of  comparatively  no 
value ;  and  gradually  light  as  well  as  peace  came  to  him. 
He  got  "into  a  most  jorous  and  lucid  state  of  mind," 
which  hs  described  in  a  Greek  epigram,  as  he  had  formerly 
described  his  state  of  mental  and  spiritual  darkness  in  the 
same  manner.  He  took  his  bachelor's  degree  in  1635,  his 
master's  degree  in  1639,  and  immediately  afterwards  was 
chosen  fellow  of  his  ccUege.  In  this  position  he  may  be 
said  to  have  rcinaiucd  all  hi?  life.  JIany  offers  of  prefer- 
ment were  made  to  him,  but  he  refused  them  all,  with  one 
exception.  Fifteen  years  after  the  Restoration,  he  accepted 
a  prebend  in  Gloucester  catliedral,  but  only  to  resign  it  in 
favour  of  his  friend  Dr.  Edward  Fowler,  afterwards  the 
well-known  bishop  of  Gloucester.  He  had  no  ambition, 
and  steadily  declined  all  attempts  to  draw  him  towards 
public  life.  He  would  not  even  accept  the  mastership  of 
his  college,  to  which,  it  is  understood,  he  would  have  been 
preferred  in  16.54,  when  Cudworth  was  appointed.  He 
drew  many  young  men  of  a  refined  and  thoughtful  tum 
of  mind  around  him,  but  among  all  his  pupils  the  most 
interesting  was  a  young  lady  of  noble  family,  a  "  heroine 
pupil,"  as  his  biographer  (Ward)  says,  "  of  an  extraordinary 
nature."  This  lady  is  supposed  to  have  been  a  sister  of 
f-nt-d  Finch,  afterwards  earl  of  Nottingham,  a  wcll-kno\vn 
statesman  of  the  Eestoratiou.  She  afterwards  became 
Lady  Conway,  and  at  her  country  seat  at  Eagley  in 
Warwickshire  More  continued  at  intervals  to  spend  "  a 
considerable  part  of  his  time."  She  and  her  hu-sband  both 
greatly  appreciated  him,  and  amidst  the  woods  of  this 
pleasant  retreat  he  composed  several  of  his  books.  There 
is  reason  to  think  that  the  spiritual  enthusiasm  of  Lady 
Conway  was  a  considerable  factor  in  some  of  More's 
speculations,  none  the  less  that  she  at  length  passed  from 
his  religious  pupilage  into  the  ranks  of  the  Quakers. 
Susceptible  to  all  the  excited  impulses  of  her  time,  this 
lady  became  the  friend  not  only  of  More  and  Penn  but  of 
Earon  van  Helmont  and  Valentine  Greatrakes,  mystical 
thaumaturgists  who  played  a  considerable  part  amid  the 
teeming  enthusiasms  of  the  17th  century.  Ragley  became 
a  centre  not  only  of  devotion  but  of  wonder-working  spirit- 
ualism.- "  Many  happy  days,"  More  says,  he  spent  in  this 
"paradise,"  and  its  fantastic  mysticism  had  more  allure- 
ments for  him  than  he  himself  realized.  His  genius  suficred 
in  consequence,  and  the  play  of  rationality  which  distin- 
guishes his  earlier  is  much  less  conspicuous  in  his  later 
works.  He  was  a  voluminous  writer  both  in  verse  and 
prose,  and  the  mere  list  of  his  works  would  occupy  more 
space  than  we  can  give  to  it.  JIany  of  his -productions 
are  now  unreadable ;  but  the  Divine  Dialogues,  published 
in  1G6S,  may  be  still  read  with  pleasure.  It  is  animated 
""■"  sometimes  even  brilliant,  with  less  prolixity  and 
.-li^ressiou  than  his  other  productions,  while  it  has  also 


J  'Trefiitii  Generiilissima  "  prefi.ted  to  his  Ojim  Omnia,  1679. 
-  The  j>ln:c  and  its  religions  man-cls  are  glauced  at  in  the  roaiance 


the  advantage  for  modem  readers  that  it  cotidenses  his 
general  view  cf  philosophy  or.d  icii^non.  Most  of  his 
characteristic  principles  may  in  fact  be  gathered  from  it. 

The  year  in  which  he  composed  the  Divine  Diidogwa 
may  be  said  to  mark  the  highest  point  of  his  intellectual 
activity.  His  Manual  of  Metay/hysics  and  elaborate  treat- 
ises en  Jacob  Boehme  and  Spinoza  were  subsequent  to 
thia  :  but  the  elasticity  and  freshness  of  his  philosophical 
geuius  are  Icc-s  buoyant  in  these  efforts,  ai.d  the  prophetico- 
mystical  elements  which  were  a  weakness  in  bis  luental 
constitution  from  the  first  grew  as  his  years  advanced. 
He  represents  mors  than  any  other  member  of  the  school 
the  mystical  and  theosophic  side  of  the  Cambridge  move- 
ment. Us  lofty  rationality,  the  rationality  of.  which  ho 
himself  had  spdkcn  earlier  in  noble  language,  at  length 
evaporates  in  him  in  intellectual  rccrie  and  dreams.  The 
Neo-Platonic  extravagances  which  lay  hidden  in  the  school 
from  the  first  came  in  his  writings  to  a  head,  and  mergul 
in  pure  phantasy, — a  set  of  fa\oui-ite  ideas  which  not 
merely  guided  but  dominated  the  reason.  Withal  Henr\ 
More  can  nsver  be  spoken  of  save  as  a  spiritual  genius  and 
significant  figure  in  the  history  of  Britisli  philosophy,  less 
robust  and  manly  and  in  so:ne  respects  less  learned  than 
Cudworth  but  more  interesting  and  fertile  in  thought,  and 
more  sweet,  singular,  and  ge:ual  in  character.  From  youth 
to  age  he  describes  himself  as  gifted  witli  a  most  happy  and 
buoyant  temper.  The  presence  of  nature  filled  lum  with 
rapture ;  ha  wished  he  could  be  always  S!<4  dio.  "  AValk- 
ing  abroad  after  his  studies  his  sallies  towards  nature 
would  bo  often  inexpressibly  ravishing,  beyond  what  he 
could  convey  to  others."  His  own  thoughts  were  to  him 
a  never-ending  source  of  pleasurable  excitement.  His 
mind  moved  with  great  rapidity  and  at  a  lofty  elevation, 
so  that,  as  he  .says,  he  seemed  "  all  the  while  to  be  in  the 
air."  This  mystical  glow  and  elevation  were  the  chief 
features  of  his  mind  and  character,  a  certain  transport  and 
radiancy  of  thought  which  carried  him  beyond  the  common 
life  without  raising  him  to  any  false  or  artificial  height, 
for  his  humility  and  charity  were  not  less  conspicuous  than 
his  piety.  The  last  ten  years  of  his  life  are  without  any 
special  record,  and  he  died  on  the  morning  of  1st  September 
1687,  and  was  buried  in  the  cLapel  of  the  college  te  loved 
so  well,  where  witliin  less  than  a  year  his  friend  Cudworth 
was  laid  beside  him. 

Before  his  death  Jtoro  issued  complete  editions  of  his  works,  "iis 
Opera  Thcoloffica  iu  1675,  and  his  Opera  Philosaphica  in  IGTa. 
Tlie  chief  authorities  for  his  life  are  Ward's  Life,  1710  ;  the  "Pre- 
iitio  Generalissima  "  prefixed  to  his  Opera  Omnia,  1679  ;  and  also 
a  general  account  of  th«  manner  and  sco^ie  of  his  writings  iu  an 
Apology  published  in  1661.  The  collection  of  his  Philosophical 
Poems,  1647,  in  which  he  has  "compared  his  chief  speculations 
and  experiences,"  sliould  also  be  consulted.  An  elaborate  analy- 
sis of  his  life  and  works  is  given  in  Principal  Tulloch's  PmHoimI 
Theology,  vol.  ii.,  1874.  (J-  T.) 

MORE,  Thomas  (1478-1535),  lord  chancellor,  and  one 
of  the  most  illustrious  Englishmen  of  his  century,  was 
born  in  Milk  Street  iu  the  City  of  London,  7th  February 
1478.  He  received  the  rudiments  of  education  at  St 
Anthony's  School  in  Threadneedle  Street,  at  that  time 
under  Nicolas  Holt  licld  to  be  the  best  in  the  city.  He 
was  early  placed  in  the  household  of  Cardinal  Morton, 
archbishop  of  Canterbury.  Admission  to  the  cardinal's 
family  was  esteemed  a  high  privilege,  and  was  sought  as 
a  school  of  manners  and  as  an  introduction  to  the  world 
by  the  sons  of  the  best  families  in  the  kingdom.  Young 
Thomas  More  obtained  admission  through  the-influence  of 
his  father.  Sir  Thomas,  then  a  rising  barrister  and  after- 
wards a  justice  of  the  Court  of  King's  Bench.  The  usual 
prognostication  of  future  distinction  is  attributed  in  the 
case  of  More  to  Cardinal  Morton,  "  who  would  often  tell 
the  nobles  sitting  at  table  with  him,  where  young  Thomas 
waited  on  him.  whosoever  liveth  to  trie  it  shall  see  tJiit 


816 


U  ORE 


cliild  prove  a  notaUc  and  r.iic  nia:i." '  At  dio  j<ropcr  age 
young  Mere  vas  scut  to  Oxfoi'il,  wborc  In;  U  said  vs-uely 
to  have  liad  Culet,  Crocyn,  ami  Liiiacro  for  his  tutors.- 
';VU  Jlorc  liimsclf  says  is  tliat  ho  haJ  Linaci-e  for  hh  niat-lor 
in  Creek.  Learning  Greek  wai  not  the  matter  of  couisc 
which  it  has  since  beco'nic.  Greek  was  not  as  yet  part  of 
iho  arts  curriculum,  ai^il  to  learn  it  voluntarily  was  ill 
looked  upon  by  the  authorities.  Those  who  did  so  -were 
suspected  of  an  inclination  towards  novel  and  dangerous 
modes  of  thinking,  then  rife  on  the  Continent  and  slowly 
finding  their  way  to  England.  Morc's  father,  who  intended 
Ills  son  to  make  a  career  in  his  own  profession,  took  the 
alarm ;  he  removed  him  from  the  university  without  a 
degree,  and  entered  him  at  Xew  Inn  to  commence  at 
once  the  study  of  the  law.  The  young  man  had  been 
kept  in  a  state  of  humiliating  dei)cndence  in  money 
matters,  having  had  no  allowance  made  him,  and  having 
had  to  apply  to  his  father  even  for  a  pair  of  nevir  shoes 
when  the  old  were  worn  out.  This  sy^tem  was  pursued 
by  his  parents  not  from  niggardliness  but  on  principle ; 
and  Thomas  More  in  later  years  often  spoke  with  appro- 
bation of  this  severe  discipline,  as  having  been  a  means  of 
keeping  him  from  the  vulgar  dissipations  in  which  his 
fellow-students  indulged.  After  completing  a  two-years' 
course  in  New  Inn,  an  lun  of  Chancery,  More  was  admitted 
in  February  HDO  at  Lincoln's  Inn,  an  Inn  of  Court.  "At 
that  time  the  Inns  of  Court  and  Chancery  presented  the 
discipline  of  a  well-constituted  university,  and,  through 
professors  under  the  name  of  readers  and  exercises  under 
the  name  of  mootings,  law  was  systematically  taught" 
(Campbell).  In  his  professional  studies  More  early  dis- 
tinguished Iiimself,  so  that  he  was  appointed  reader-in-law 
in  Furnival's  Inn  ;  but  he  would  not  relinquish  the  studies 
which,  had  attracted  "him  in  O.xford.  We  find  him  deli- 
vering a  lecture  to  audiences  of  "  all  the  chief  learned  of 
the  city  of  London."  ^  The  subject  he  chose  was  a  com- 
promise between  theology  and  the  humanities,  being  St 
Augustine's  De  Civitate.  In  this  lecture  More  sought  less 
to  expound  the  theology  of  his  author  than  to  set  forth 
the  philosophical  and  historical  contents  of  the  treatise. 
The  lecture-room  was  a  church,  St  Lawrence  Jewry,  placed 
at  his  disposal  by  Grocyn,  the  rector. 

Somewhere  about  this  period  of  Jlore'a  life  two  things 
happened  which  gave  in  opposite  directions  the  dOtermin- 
ing  impulse  to  his  future  career.  More's  was  one  of  those 
highly  susceptible  natures  which  take  more  readily  and 
more  eagerly  than  common  minds  the  impress^  of  that 
which  they  cncoimter  on  their  iirst  contact  with  men. 
Two  principal  forms  of  thought  and  feeling  were  at  this 
date  in  coniiict,  rather  unconscious  than  declared,  on  Eng- 
lish soil.  Under  the  denomination  of  the  "old  learning," 
the  sentiment  of  the  Jliddla  Ages  and  the  idea  of  church 
authority  was  established  and  in  full  possession  of  the 
religious  houses,  the  universities,  and  the  learned  profes- 
sions. The  foe  that  was  advancing  in  the  opjiosito  direc- 
tion, though  without  the  conscience  of  a  hostile  pui-pose, 
was  the  new  power  of  human  reason  animated  with  the 
revived  sentiment  of  classicism.  In  More's  mind  both 
these  hostile  inlluences  found  a  congenial  liome.  Each 
had  its  turn  of  supremacy,  and  in  his  early  years  it  seemed 
as  if  the  humanistic  influence  would  gain  the  final  victory. 
About  the  age  of  twenty  he  was  seized  with  a  violent 
access  of  devotional  rapture.  He  took  a  disgust  to  the 
world  and  its-  occupations,  and  experienced  a  longing  to 
give  himself  over  to  an  ascetic  life.  He  took  a  lodging 
near  the  Charterhouse,  and  subjected  himself  to  the  disci- 
pline of  a  Carthusian  monk.  lie  wore  a  sharp  shirt  of 
hair  next  hi.-3  skin,   scourged  himself  every  Friday  and 


Llh  bv  P.  r.. 


Life  by  B.  E. 


^  Rppcr,  L'/c, 


!  other  fasting  Jay-,  lay  upon  the  bare  ground  ^^  ith  a  log 
!  under  his  head,  and  allowed  himself  but  four  or  live  hours' 
sleep.  This  access  of  the  ascetic  malady  lasted  but  a  short 
time,  and  More  recovered  to  all  outward  appearance  liis 
balance  of  mind.  But  he  never  entirely  emaucipatcl 
liimsclf  from  the  sentiment  of  devotion,  though  in  l-'ter 
life  it  e.vliibited  itself  in  a  more  rational  form.  Eveis 
when  he  was  chancellor  he  would  take  part  in  church 
services,  walking  in  their  processions  with  a  surplice. 
This,  howevei',  was  at  a  later  time.  For  the  moment  the 
balance  of  his  faculties  seemed  to  be  restored  .by  a  revival 
of  the  antagonistic  sentiment  of  humanism  which  he  had 
imbibed  from  the  Oxford  circle  of  friends,  and  specially 
from  Erasmus.  The  dates  as  regards  More's  early  life 
are  uncertain,  and  we  can  only  say  tliat  it  is  possible  that 
the  acquaintance  with  Erasmus  might  have  begun  during- 
Erasmus's  first  visit  to  England  in  1499.  Tradition  has 
diamati.zed  their  first  meeting  into  the  story  given  by 
Cresacre  More,' — that  the  two  happened  to  sit  oppo.«ito 
each  other  at  the  lord  mayor's  table,  that  they  got  into 
an  argimient  during  dinner,  and  that,  in  mutual  astonish- 
ment at  each  other's  wit  and  readir.ess,  Erasmus  e.v- 
claimed,  "Aut  tu  es  Morns,  aut  nuUu.s,"  and  the  other 
replied,  "Aut  tu  es  Erasmus,  aut  dLabolus  I "  iiejcct- 
ing  this  legend,  which  bears  the  stamp  of  fiction  upon  its 
face,  we  have  certain  evidence  of  acquaintance  between 
the  two  men  in  a  letter  of  Erasmus  with  the  date  "Oxfo/d, 
"29th  October  1499."  If  we  must  admit  the  correctness  of 
the  date  of  J!p.  1 4  in  the  collection  of  Erasmus's  EpisioU; 
we  should  have  to  assume  that  their  acquaintance  had 
begun  as  early  as  1497.  Ten  years  More's  senior,  wkI 
master  of  the  accomplibhments  which  More  was  ainbit'\6us 
to  acquire,  Erasmus  could  not  fail  to  exercise  a  powiii-ful 
influence  over  the  brilliant  young  Englishman.  More's 
ingenuous  demeanour,  quick  intelligence,  and  winning 
manners  fascinated  Erasmu.s  from  the  first,  and  acquaiiil- 
ance  rapidly  ripened  into  warm  attachment.  This  contai  t 
with. the  prince  of  letters  revived  in  More  the  spirit  o^  the 
"  new  learning,"  and  he  returned  with  ardour  to  the  stmly 
of  Greek,  which  had  been  begun  at  Oxford.  The  humanistic 
influence  was  sufiieiently  strong  to  save  him  from  wrecking 
his  life  in  monkish  mortification,  and  even  to  keep  him 
for  a  time  on  the  side  of  the  party  of  progress.  He  ac- 
quired no  inconsiderable  facility  in  the  Greek  languag';, 
from  which  he  made  and  published  some  translations. 
His  Latin  style,  though  wanting  the  inimitable  ease  of 
Erasmus  and  often  ofi'endiug  against  idiom,  is  yet  in 
copiousness  and  proprietj'  much  above  thex)rdinary  Latin 
of  the  English  scholars  of  his  time. 

!More's  attention  to  the  new  studies  was  always  subor- 
dinate to  his  resolution  to  rise  in  his  profession,  in  which 
he  was  stimulated  by  his  father's  example.  As  early  as 
1.502  he  was  appointed  under-sheriff  of  the  city  of  London, 
an  oflice  then  judicial,  and  of  considerable  dignity.  He 
first  attracted  imblic  attention  by  his  conduct  in  the 
parliament  of  1504,  by  his  daring  opposition  to  the  king's 
demand  for  money.  Henry  Vll.  was  entitled,  according 
to  feudal  laws,  to  a  grant  on  occasion  of  his  daughters 
marriage.  But  ho  came  to  the  House  of  Commons  for  a 
much  larger  sum  than  he  intciuled  to  give  with  his  daughter. 
The  members,  unwilling  as  ihcy  were  to  vote  the  money, 
were  afraid  to  otlend  the  king,  till  the  silence  was  bi-oken 
bj'  More,  whose  speech  is  raid  to  have  moved  the  House 
to  reduce  the  subsidy  of  three-fifteenths  which  the  Govern- 
ment had  demanded" to  £30,000.  One  of  the  chamberlain,'* 
went  and  told  his  master  that  he  had  been  thwarted  by  a 
beardless  boy.  Henry  never  forgave  the  audacity  ;  but, 
for  the  moment,  the  only  revenge  ho  could  take  vras  ni>oii 

^  Lifi,  p.  93. 


MORE 


817 


More's  father,  whom  upon  some  pretext  he  threw  into  the 
Tower,  and  he  only  released  him  upon  payment  of  a  fine 
of  £100.  Thomas  More  even  found  it  advisable  to  with- 
draw from  public  life  into  obscurity.  During  this  period 
of  retirement  the  old  dilemma  recurred.  One  while  he 
devoted  himself,  to  the  sciences,  "perfecting  himself  in 
music,  arithmetic,  geometry,  and  astronomy,  learning  the 
French  tongue,  and  recreating  his  tired  spirits  on  the  viol,"' 
or  translating  epigrams  from  the  Greek  anthology ;  another 
while  resolving  to  take  priest's  orders. 

From  dreams  of  clerical  celibacy  he  was  roused  by 
making  acquaintance  with  the  family  of  John  Colt  of 
New  Hall,  in  Essex.  The  "honest  and  sweet  conversation" 
of  the  daughters  attracted  him,  and  though  his  inclination 
led  him  to  prefer  the  second  he  married  the  eldest,  not 
liking  to  put  the  affront  upon  her  of  passing  her  over  in 
favoiu'  of  her  younger  sister.  The  death  of  the  old  king 
in  1507  restored  him  to  the  practice  of  his  profession,  and 
to  that  public  career  for  which  his  abilities  specially  fitted 
him.  From  this  time  there  was  scarce  a  cause  of  import- 
ance in  which  he  was  not  engaged.  His  professional  in- 
come amounted  to  w£400  a  year,  equal  to  £4000  in  present 
money,  and,  "considering  the  relative  profits  of  the  law 
and  the  value  of  money,  probably  indicated  as  high  a 
ptation  as  £10,000  at  the  present  day"  (Campbell).  It 
•was  not  long  before  he  attracted  the  attention  of  the  young 
iking  and  of  Wolsey.  The  Latin  verses  which  he  pre- 
sented to  Henry  on  the  occasion  of  his  coronation  did  not 
deserve  particular  notice  amid  the  crowd  of  congratulatory 
odes.  But  the  spirit  with  which  he  pleaded  before  the 
Star  Chamber  in  a  case  of  the  Crown  v.  the  Pope  recom- 
mended him  to  the  royal  favour,  and  marked  him  out  for 
employment.  More  obtained  in  this  case  judgment  against 
the  crown.  Henry,  who  was  present  in  person  at  the  trial, 
had  the  good  sense  not  to  resent  the  defeat,  bu*  took  the 
counsel  to  whose  advocacy  it  was  due  into  his  service.  In 
!1514  More  was  made  master  of  the  requests,  knighted,  and 
ewom  a  member  of  the  privy  council.  He  was  repeatedly 
employed  on  embassies  to  the  Low  Countries,  and  was  for  a 
long  time  stationed  at  Calais  as  agent  in  the  shifty  nego- 
tiations carried  on  by  Wolsey  with  the  court  of  France. 
In  1519  he  was  compelled  to  resign  his  post  of  under- 
sheriff  to  the  city  and  his  private  practice  at  the  bar. 
In  1521  he  was  appointed  treasurer  of  the  exchequer,  and 
in  the  parliament  of  1523  he  was  elected  speaker.  The 
choice  of  this  officer  rested  nominally  with  the  House 
itself,  but  in  practice  was  always  dictated  by  the  court. 
Sir  Thomas  More  was  pitched  upon  by  the  court  on  this 
occasion  in  order  that  his  popularity  with  the  Commons 
might  be  employed  to  carry  the  money  grant  for  which 
Wolsey  asked.  To  the  great  disappointment  of  the  coiu't 
More  remained  firm  to  the  popular  cause,  and  it  was  greatly 
owing  to  his  influence  that  its  demands  were  resisted. 
From  this  occurrence  may  be  dated  the  jealousy  which 
the  cardinal  began  to  exhibit  towards  More.  Wolsey 
made  an  attempt  to  get  him  out  of  the  way  by  sending 
•him  as  ambassador  to  Spain.  More  defeated  the  design 
by  a  personal  appeal  to  the  king,  alleging  that  the  climate 
Tfould  be  fatal  to  his  health.  Henry,  who  saw  through 
the  artifice,  and  was  already  looking  round  for  a  more 
popular  successor  to  Wolsey,  made  the  gracious  answer 
that  he  would  employ  More  otherwise.  In  1525  More 
was  appointed  chancellor  of  the  duchy  of  Lancaster,  and 
no  pains  were  spared  to  attach  him  to  the  court.  The 
king  frequently  sent  for  him  into  his  closet,  and  discoursed 
,with  him  on  astronomy,  geometry,  and  points  of  divinity. 
This  growing  favour,  by  which  many  men  would  have 
been  carried  away,  did  not  impose  upon  More.     He  dis- 


16—30 


'  Roper,  H/e  ' 


couraged  the  king's  advances,  showeil  rdnclanco  to  "go  t«i 
the  palace,  and  seemed  constrained  when  th'.To.  Then 
the  king  began  to  come  himself  to  Morc'-i  linusc  at  Chelsen,' 
and  would  dine  with  him  without  jupWous  notice.  Koih.t 
mentions  one  of  these  \-isit3,  when  t)ie  king  after  dinntr 
walked  in  the  garden  by  the  space  of  an  hour,  holding 
his  arm  round  More's  neck.  Eoper  afterwards  conjrat*; 
lated  his  father-in-law  on  the  distinguished  honour  flhirli 
had  been  shown  him.  "I  thank  oiu-  Lord,"  was  the  reply, 
"  I  find  his  grace  my  very  good  lord  indeed  ;  and  I  believe 
he  doth  as  singularly  favour  me  as  any  subject  AviHiin  this 
realm.  Howbeit,  son  Eoper,  I  may  tell  thee  I  li.ivo  no 
cause  to  be  proud  thereof,  foi  if  my  head  would  wi:s  hiui 
a  castle  in  France,  it  should  not  fail  to  go."  As  a  last 
resource  More  tried  the  expedient  of  silence,  di^seiubliiig 
his  wit  and  afiecting  to  be  dull.  This  had  the  dc.-ireil 
effect  so  far  that  he  was  less  often  sent  for.  But  it  did 
not  alter  the  royal  policy,  and  in  1529,  when  a  succe.ssor 
had  to  be  found  for  Wolsey,  More  was  raised  to  the 
chancellorship.  The  selection  was  justified  1>y  More's  high 
reputation,  but  it  was  also  significant  of  the  modification 
which  the  policy  of  the  court  was  then  undergoing.  It 
was  a  concession  to  the  rising  popular  purty,  to  which  ^t 
was  supposed  that  More's  poUtics  inclined  him.  The 
public  favour  with  which  his  appointment  had  been 
received  was  justified  by  his  conduct  as  judge  in  thf 
Court  of  Chancery.  Having  heard  causes  in  the  forenoon 
between  eight  and  eleven,  after  dinner  he  sat  again  to 
receive  petitions.  The  meaner  the  suppliant  was  the 
more  affably  he  would  speak  to  him,  and  the  more  speedily 
he  would  despatch  his  case.  In  this  respect  he  formed  a 
great  contrast  to  his  predecessor,  whose  arrears  he  soon 
cleared  off.  One  morning  being  told  by  the  oflScer  that 
there  was  not  another  caiise  before  the  court,  he  ordered 
the  fact  to  bo  entered  on  record,  as  it  had  never  hajipened 
before.  He  not  only  refused  all  gifts,  such  as  had  been 
usual,  himself,  but  took  measures  to  prevent  any  of  hit 
connexions  from  interfering  with  the  coiu'se  of  justice. 
One  of  his  sons-in-law.  Heron,  having  a  suit  in  the  chan- 
cellor's court,  and  refusing  to  agree  to  any  reasonable 
accommodation,  because  the  judge  "was  the  mast  affec- 
tionate father  to  his  children  that  ever  was  in  the  world," 
More  thereupon  made  a  decree  against  him 

Unfortvmately  for  Sir  Thomas  Jfore^  a  lord  chancellor 
is  not  merely  a  judge,  but  has  high  political  functions  to 
perform.  In  raising  More  to  that  eminent  position,  the 
king  had  not  merely  considered  his  professional  distinction 
but  had  coimted  upon  his  avowed  liberal  and  reforming 
tendencies.  In  the  Utopia,  which,  though  written  earlier, 
More  had  allowed  to  be  printed  as  late  as  1516,  he  had 
spoken  against  the  vices  of  power  and  declared  for  indif- 
ference of  religious  creed  ^vith  a  breadth  of  philosophical 
view  of  which  there  is  no  other  example  in  any  English- 
man of  that  age.  At  the  same  time,  as  he  coiUd  not  be 
suspected  of  any  sympathy  with  Lutheran  or  Wickliffite 
heretics,  he  might  fairly  be  regarded  as  qualified  to  lead 
the  party  which  aimed  at  reform  in  state  and  church 
wdthin  the  limits  of  Catholic  orthodoxy.  But  in  the  king^ 
mind  the  public  questions  of  reform  were  entirely  sunk  in 
the  personal  one  of  the  divorce.  The  divorce  was  a  point 
upon  which  Sir  Thomas  would  not  yield.  And,  as  he  saw 
that  the  marriage  with  Anne  Boleyn  was  determined  upon, 
he  petitioned  the  king  to  be  allowed  to  resign  the  great 
seal,  alleging  failing  health.  With  much  reluctance,  the 
royal  permission  was  given  and  the  resignation  accepted, 
10th  May  1532,  with  many  gracious  expressions  of  good 
will  on  the  part  of  the  king.  The  promise  held  out  of 
future  botmty  was  never  fulfilled,  and  More  left  office,  as 
he  had  entered  it,  a  poor  man.  His  necessitous  condition 
was  so  notorious  that  the  clergy  in  convocation  voted  him 


818 


MOKE 


a  present  of  £5000.  This  he  peremptorily  refused,  either 
for  himself  or  for  his  family,  declaring  that  he  '"had  rather 
sea  it  all  cast  into  the  Thames."  Yet  the  whole  of  his 
income  after  resigning  office  did  not  exceed  £100  a  year. 

Hitherto  he  had  maintained  a  large  establishment,  not 
on  the  princely  scale  of  Wolsey,  but  in  the  patriarchal 
fashion  of  having  all  his  sons-in-law,  \vith  their  families, 
under  his  roof.  When  he  resigned  the  chancellorship  he 
called  his  children  and  grandchildren  together  to  explain 
his  reduced  circumstances.  "  If  we  wish  to  live  together," 
said  he,  "  you  mu.st  be  content  to  be  contributories  together. 
But  my  counsel  is  that  we  fall  not  to  the  lowest  fare  first : 
we  will  not,  therefore,  descend  to  Oxford  fare,  nor  to  the 
fare  of  New  Inn,  but  we  will  begin  with  Lincoln's  Inn 
diet,  where  many  right  worshipful  men  of  great  accouut 
and  good  years  do  live  full  well ;  which  if  we  find  our- 
selves the  first  year  not  able  to  maintain,  then  we  will  in 
the  next  year  come  down  to  Oxford  fare,  where  many 
great  learned  and  ancient  fathers  and  doctors  are  continu- 
ally conversant ;  which  if  our  purses  stretch  not  to  main- 
tain neither,  then  may  we  after,  with  bag  and  wallet,  go 
a-begging  together,  hoping  that  for  pity  some  good  folks 
will  give  us  their  charity." 

More  was  now  able,  as  he  writes  to  Erasmus,  to  retuiii 
to  the  life  which  had  always  been  his  ambition,  when,  free- 
from  business  and  public  aifairs,  he  might  give  himself  up 
to  his  favourite  studies  and  to  the  practices  of  his  devotion. 
Of  the  Chelsea  interior  Erasmus  has  drawn  a  charming 
picture,  which  may  vie  with  Holbein's  celebrated  canvas, 
The  Household  of  Sir  Thomas  More. 

"  ^lore  lias  built,  near  Loudon,  upon  the  Thames,  a  modest  yet 
commodious  mansion.  There  he  lives  surrounded  by  his  numerous 
femily,  including  his  \rife,  his  son,  and  his  son's  wife,  his  three 
daughters  and  their  husbands,  mth  eleven  grandchildi-en.  There 
is  not  any  man  living  so  affectionate  to  his  children  as  he,  and  he 
loveth  his  old  wife  as  if  she  were  a  girl  of  fifteen.  Such  is  the 
excellence  of  his  disposition  that  whatsoever  happeneth  that  could 
not  be  helped,  he  is  as  cheerful  aud  as  well  pleased  as  though  the 
best  thing  possible  had  been  done.  In  More's  house,  you  would 
say  that  Plato's  Academy  was  revived  again,  only,  whereas  in  the 
Academy  the  discussions  turned  upon  geometry  and  the  power  of 
numbers,  the  house  at  Chelsea  is  a  veritable  school  of  Christian 
religion.  In  it  is  none,  man  or  woman,  but  readeth  or  studieth 
the  liberal  arts,  yet  is  their  chief  care  of  piety.  There  is  never  any 
seen  idle  ;  the  head  of  the  house  governs  it  not  by  a  lofty  carriage 
and  oft  rebukes,  but  by  gentleness  and  amiable  manners.  Every 
member  is  busy  in  his  place,  performing  his  duty  with  alacrity  ; 
nor  is  sober  mirth  wanting."  ^ 

But  Mors  was  too  conspicuous  to  be  long  allowed  to 
enjoy  the  happiness  of  a  retired  life.  A  special  invitation 
was  sent  him  by  the  king  to  attend  the  coronation  of 
Anne  Boleyn,  accompanied  with  the  gracious  offer  of  X20  to 
buy  a  new  suit  for  the  occasion !  More  refused  to  attend, 
and  from  that  moment  was  marked  out  for  vengeance. 
A  first  attempt  made  to  bring  him  within  the  meshes 
of  the  law  only  recoiled  with  shame  upon  the  head  of  the 
accusers.  They  were  maladroit  enough  to  attack  him  on 
his  least  vulnerable  side,  snnunoning  him  before  the  privy 
council  to  answer  to  a  charge  of  receiving  bribes  in  the 
administration  of  justice.  One  ParnoU  was  put  forward 
to  complain  of  a  decree  pronounced  against  him  in  favour 
of  the  contending  party  Vaughan,  who  he  said  had  pre- 
sented a  gilt  cup  to  the  chancellor.  More  stated  that  ho  had 
rexieived  a  cup  as  a  New  Year's  gift.  Lord  Wiltsliire,  the 
queen's  father,  exultingly  cried  out,  "  So,  did  I  not  tcU 
you,  my  lords,  that  you  would  find  this  matter  true  ? " 
"But,  my  lords,"  continued  iloro,  "having  pledged  Mrs. 
Vaughan  in  the  wine  wherewith  my  butler  had  filled  the 
cup,  I  restored  the  cup  to  her."  Two  other  charges  of  a 
like  nature  were  refuted  as  triumphantly.  But  the  very 
futility  of  the  accusations  must  hnvo  betrayed  to  More 


»  Aj).  iiSjjipp. 


the  bitter  determination  of  his  enemies  to  compa.t;  hia 
destruction.  Foiled  in  their  first  ill-dii-ected  attem))t, 
they  were  compelled  to  have  recourse  to  that  tremendous 
engine  of  regal  t}Tanny,  the  law  of  treason.  A  bill  was 
brought  into  parliament  to  attaint  Elizabeth  Barton,  a 
nun,  who  was  said  to  have  held  treasonable  language. 
Barton  turned  out  afterwards  to  have  been  an  impostor, 
but  she  hail  duped  More,  who  now  lived  in  a  superstitious 
atmosphere  of  convents  and  churches,  and  he  had  given 
his  countenance  to  her  supernatural  pretensions.  Hi3 
name,  with  that  of  Fisher,  was  accordingly  included  in 
the  bill  as  an  accomplice.  When  he  came  before  the 
council,  it  was  at  once  apparent  that  the  charge  of  treason 
could  not  be  sustained,  and  the  efforts  of  the  court  agent  3 
were  directed  to  draw  from  More  some  approbation  of  !'  ■• 
king's  marriage.  But  to  this  neither  cajolery  nor  thre.. ,  ; 
could  move  hira.  The  preposterous  charge  was  urged  ihi.^ 
it  was  by  his  advice  that  the  king  had  committed  himseit 
in  his  book  against  Luther  to  an  assertion  of  the  pope's 
authority,  whereby  the  title  of  "  Defender  of  the  Faith  "hr.d 
been  gained,  but  in  reality  a  sword  put  into  the  popc'j 
hand  to  fight  against  him.  More  was  able  to  reply  that 
he  had  warned  the  king  that  this  very  thing  might  happen, 
that  upon  some  breach  of  amity  between  the  crown  of 
England  and  the  pope  Henry's  too  pronounced  assertion 
of  the  papal  authority  might  be  turned  against  himself, 
'■therefore  it  were  best  that  place  be  amended,  and  his 
authority  more  slenderly  touched."  "Nay,"  replied  the 
king,  "  that  it  shall  not ;  we  are  .so  much  bound  to  the  see 
of  Kome  that  we  cannot  do  too  much  honour  unto  it. 
Whatsoever  impediment  be  to  the  contrary,  we  will  set 
forth  that  authority  to  the  utmost ;  for  we  have  received 
from  that  see  our  crown  imperial,"  "which,"  added  More, 
"  till  his  grace  with  his  own  mouth  so  told  mo,  I  nevr-r 
heard  before."  Anything  more  defiant  and  exasperating 
than  this  coidd  not  well  have  been  said.  But  it  could  not 
be  laid  hold  of,  and  the  charge  of  treason  being  too 
ridiculous  to  be  proceeded  with,  More's  name  was  struck 
out  of  the  bill.  When  his  daughter  brought  him  the 
news.  More  calmly  said,  "I'  faith,  Meg,  quod  differtur, 
non  aufertur  :  that  which  is  postponed  is  not  dropt."  At 
another  time,  having  asked  his  daughter  how  the  court 
went,  and  how  Queen  Anne  did,  he  received  for  answer, 
"  Never  better;  there  is  nothing  else  but  dancing  and  sport- 
ing." To  this  More  answered,  "Alas,  Meg,  it  pitieth  ma 
to  remember  unto  what  misery,  poor  soul,  she  will  shortly 
come ;  these  dances  of  hers  will  prove  such  dances  that 
she  will  spurn  om-  heads  off  like  footballs ;  but,  it  will  not  be 
long  ere  her  head  will  dance  the  like  dance."^  So  the  .speech 
runs  in  the  Life  by  More's  great-grandson  ;  but  in  the  only 
trustworthy  record,  the  life  by  his  son-in-law  Roper,  More's 
reply  ends  with  the  words,  "  she  will  shortly  come."  In  thi.s, 
as  in  other  instances,  the  later  statement  has  the  appear- 
ance of  having  been  aa  imaginative  extension  of  the  earlier. 
In  1534  the  .\ct  of  Supremacy  was  passed,  and  the 
oath  ordered  to  be  tendered.  More  was  sent  for  to 
Lambeth,  where  he  offered  to  swear  to  the  succession,  but 
steadily  refu-ied  the  oath  of  supremacy  as  against  his  con- 
science. Thereupon  ho  was  given  in  charge  to  the  abbot 
of  V/estminster,  and,  pei-sisting  in  his  refusal,  was  four 
days  afterwards  oonuuitted  to  the  Tower.  After  a  closa 
and  even  cruel  confinement  (he  was  denied  the  use  of  pen 
and  ink)  of  more  than  a  year,  he  was  brought  to  trial  before 
a  special  commission  and  a  packed  jury.  Even  so  Jlore 
woiUd  have  been  acquitted,  when  at  the  last  moment 
Rich,  the  sohcitor-general,  quitted  the  bar  and  presented 
himself  as  a  witness  for  the  crown.  Being  sworn,  he 
detailed  a  confidential  conversation  he  had  had  with  the 


'  Cresacie  More.  .p.  231. 


M  O  R  — M  O  E 


819 


prisoner  in  the  Tower.  He  affinned  that,  having  himself 
admitted  in  the  course  of  this  conversation  ''  that  there 
were  things  which  no  parliament  could  do, — e.g.,  no  parlia- 
ment could  make  a  law  that  God  should  not  be  God,"  Sir 
Thomas  had  replied,  "  No  more  could  the  parliament  make 
the  king  supreme  head  of  the  church,"  By  this  act  of  perjury 
a  verdict  of  "guilty"  was  procured  from  the  jury.  The  execu- 
tion of  the  sentence  followed  within  the  week,  on  7th  July 
1535.  The  head  was  fixed  upon  London  Bridge.  The  ven- 
geance of  Henry  was  not  satisfied  by  this  judicial  murder 
of  his  friend  and  servant ;  he  enforced  the  confiscation  of 
what  small  property  More  had  left,  expelled  Lady  More 
from  the  house  at  Chelsea,  and  even  set  aside  assignments 
which  had  been  legally  executed  by  More,  who  foresaw 
what  would  happen  before  the  commission  of  tne  alleged 
treason.  More's  property  was  settled  on  Princess  Elizabeth, 
afterwards  queen,  who  kept  possession  of  it  till  her  death. 
At  his  death  Sir  Thomas  More  was  in  the  fifty-eighth 
year  of  his  age.  He  was  twice  married,  biit  had  children 
only  by  his  first  wife.  His  eldest  daughter  Margaret, 
married  to  William  Roper,  is  one  of  the  foi-eraost  women 
ib  the  annals  of  the  country  for  her  virtues,  high  intelli- 
gence, and  various  accomplishments.  She  read  Latin  and 
Gieek,  was  a  proficient  in  music,  and  in  the  sciences,  so 
f.j  as  they  were  then  accessible.  Her  devotion  to  her 
father  is  historical ;  she  gave  him  not  only  the  tender 
afTection  of  a  daughter  but  the  high-minded  sympathy  of 
a  soul  gi"eat  as  his  own. 

It  is  unfortunate  for  More's  reputation  that  ho  has  been  adopted 
AS  a  champion  of  a  party  and  a  cause  which  is  arrayed  in  hostility 
to  the  liberties  and  constitution  of  hia  country.  Apart  from  the 
partisan  use  which  is  made  of  his  name,  we  must  rank  him  among 
the  noblest  minds  of  England,  as  one  who  became  the  victim  of  a 
tyrant  whose  policy  he  disapproved  and  whose  servile  instruments 
ho  despised.  If  his  language  towards  the  tyrant  is  often  more 
servile  than  became  a  freeman,  wo  must  remember  th.at  such  was 
the  court  style  of  tlie  period,  and  that  we  must  not  consti'ue  liter- 
ally phrases  of  compliment.  It  is,  however,  impossible  to  deny 
thatJIore's  policy  in  later  life  did  not  bear  out  the  more  liberal 
convictions  of  his  earlier  yeai-s.  His  views  and  feelings  contracted 
under  the  combined  influences  of  his  professional  practice  and  of 
public  employment  la  the  Utopia,  published  in  1516,  he  not  only 
denounced  the  ordinary  vices  of  power,  but  evinced  an  enlightenment 
of  sentiment  which  went  far  beyond  the  most  statesmanlike  ideas 
to  be  found  among  his  contemporaries,  pronouncing  not  merely  for 
toleration  but  rising  even  to  the  philosophical  conception  of  the 
indifference  of  religious  creed.  It  was  to  this  superiority  of  view, 
and  not  merely  to  the  satire  on  the  administration  of  Henry  VII., 
that  we  must  ascribe  the  popularity  of  the  work  in  the  16th  cen- 
tury. For,  as  a  romance,  the  UUipia  has  little  interest  either  of 
incident  or  of  character.  It  does  not,  as  has  been  said,  anticipate 
the  economical  doctrines  of  Adam  Smith,  and  much  of  it  is  fanciful 
without  bei.ng  either  witty  or  ingenious.  Mackintosh  says  of  it : 
"  It  intimates  a  variety  of  doctrines,  and  exhibits  a  multiplicity 
ff  projects,  which  the  writer  regards  with  almost  every  possible 
degree  of  approbation  and  shade  ol  assent,  from  the  frontiers  of 
serious  and  entire  belief,  through  gradations  of  descending  plausi- 
bijity,  where  the  lowest  are  scarcely  more  than  exercises  of  ingenuity, 
and  to  which  some  wild  paradoxes  are  appended,  either  as  a  vehicle, 
or  as  an  easy  means,  if  necessary,  of  disavowing  the  serious  inten- 
tion of  the  whole  of  this  Platonic  fiction." 

Tlie  Epistola  ad  Dorpium  at  a  later  date  exhibits  More  em- 
phatically on  the  side  of  the  new  learning.  It  contains  a  vindi- 
cation of  the  study  of  Greek,  and  of  the  desirability  of  printing 
the  text  of  the  Gi-eek  Testament,— views  which  at  th»t  date  required 
an  enlightened  understanding  to  enter  into,  and  wliich  were  con- 
demned by  the  party  to  which  More  afterwards  attached  hiiasclf. 
At  the  most,  he  can  be  doubtfully  exculpated  from  the  charge  of 
havuig  tortured  men  and  children  for  heresy.  It  is  admitted  by 
himself  that  he  inflicted  punishment  for  religious  opinion.  Erasmus 
only  ventures  to  say  in  his  friend's  defence  "that  while  he  was 
chancellor  no  m.an  was  pnt  to  death  for  these  pestilent  opinions, 
♦whUe  so  many  suffered  death  in  Franca  and  the  Low  Countries." 
T'lfr  «^'  "f.^''^"^,  Mo"  "M  wrltt«  by  his  son-in-law  Roper  about  the 
Ha  £.  A^  ',  F-  ","'"  f"'^"<''i  I"  MS.  dnrlng  tlio  reign  of  Elizabeth, 
and  handed  about  in  copies,  many  of  which  were  earefcs«ly  made.  It  was  not 
lilJlf/ii^f-iT'?*'!!  '^l°'„'"y'  *^^  ''"'«  o'  ^'^-  Reprints  were  made  by 
rf,™  0. 1''),  >y  Leivts  0729, 1731X  and  by  Singer  (1817,  182-.>).  Roper's  life  & 
S?i?';„„„  ^"'?1>"5^,'''"';i""°S'^'''"«»-    M0re-8Li/«lnMs!(Harleian 

.i.  A  ??''>'".  "L'',''"'  ^y  ^'eolM  Harpsllcld,  was  also  written  in  MaiVs  rei'm 
All  liat  u  8l:iterial  in  this  MS.  is  taken  from  Roper.    Aether  a°on^.?Jzf?.; 


written  !n  1W9,  printed  In  Wordtworth'a  EecUtiaitteaS  Bl-^rapJiy,  U.  43-186,  is 
chiefly  complied  from  Roper  and  Harpslield.    The  preface  is  signed  R  B. 

Stapletoo  (IVftj  Thcmse,  a.  ret  gestm  S.  Thoma  apoBioU,  S.  TJiomje  arcMepiieopi 
CantuaHentU,  Thcma  MoH,  Douay,  15SS,  Ck)logne,  1612,  and  the  Vita  Thomm 
Mori  (separately),  Gratz,  1639)  translates  Roper,  interweaving  what  material  he 
could  find  scattered  through  More's  works  and  letters  and  the  notices  of  him 
in  the  writings  of  his  contemporaries.  Cresacre  More,  great-grandson  of  8Ir. 
Thomas,  compiled  a  new  life  abont  the  year  1627.  It  was  printed  without  date, 
but,  according  to  the  editor.  Hunter,  in  1631.  The  title  of  this  edition  is— Tis 
Life  of  Sir  Thos.  More,  Lord  High  CkancelUntr  of  England,  4to,  s.  1.  eta.,  and  with 
new  title-page,  1642, 1726, 1823.  This  life  U  cited  by  the  subsequent  biographers 
as  an  independent  authority.  But  it  is  almost  entirely  borrowed  from  Roper 
and  Stapleton.  The  additions  made  have  sometimes  the  appearance  of  rhetorical 
ampliflcations  of  Roper's  simple  statements.  At  other  times  they  are  decor- 
ative miracles.  The  whole  is  couched  Id  that  strain  of  devotional  exaggeration 
in  which  the  lives  of  the  saints  are  usnally  composed.  The  author  seems  to 
imply  that  he  had  received  euperaatural  communications  fi-om  the  spirit  of  his 
ancestor.  Already,  only  eighty  years  after  More's  execution,  hagiography  bad 
taken  possession  of  the  facts,  and  was  transmuting  them  into  an  edifyinglegend. 
Cresacre  More's  Life  cannot  be  alleged  as  evidence  for  anv  facts  wtiich  are  not 
otherAvise  vouched.  It  has  been  remarked  by  Hunter  that  More's  life  and  worlts 
have  been  all  along  manipulated  for  political  poiToscs,  and  In  the  interest  of 
ths  holy  see.  In  Mar^^s  reign,  and  in  the  tide  of  (Catholic  reaction.  Roper  and 
H.irpsfield  wrote  lives  of  him ;  Ellis  Heywood  deJicated  his  11  Moro  to  Cardinal 
Pole,  and  Tottell  reprinted  the  folio  of  his  English  worics.  Staplcton  prepared 
his  Trcs  Thomas  in  1588,  when  the  recovery  of  England  to  the  see  of  Rome  was 
looked  for  by  the  Spanish  invasion.  In  1509,  when  there  was  a  prospect  of  a 
disputed  succession,  the  anonymous  Life  by  B.  R.  w.is  composed  :  and  soon  after 
Charles  had  alUed  himself  with  a  Catholic,  the  Life  by  Cresacre  More  issued  from 
the  press.  Hunter  might  have  added  that  Stspleton  was  being  reprinted  at 
Gratz  at  the  time  when  the  conversion  of  England  was  expected  from  James  II. 
The  later  Uvea  of  Sir  Thomas  More  have  been  numerous,  but  the  only  one  which 
has  any  critical  value  is  that  by  G.  T.  Rudhart  Thomas  Moms,  aus  den  Qucllen 
bearbeitet,  Nuremberg,  1829.  Other  lives  are  by  J.  Hoddesdon,  London,  1662, 
1662  ;  by  Cayley,  2  vols.,  London,  1808 ;  by  Mackintosh,  Lardner's  Cab.  Cyclop., 
London,  1831,  1844 ;  and  in  More's  Works,  London,  1845  :  by  Lord  Campbell  in 
Lives  of  the  Chancellors,  vol.  i.,  l&4S-oO ;  by  D.  Nisard  in  Rei^aissance  ct  Sefomu ; 
by  Baumstark,  Freiburg,  1879.  A  biographical  study  on  Mote's  Latin  poems 
is  PUlomorus  by  J.  H.  Marsden,  2d  ed.,  London,  1S78. 

More's  writings  are  numerous,  and  a  complete  bibliogTaphy  of  them  would 
occupy  several  columns.  His  English  Works  were  collected  and  published  in 
one  vol.  folio  by  RastaU,  London,  1530,  and  reprinted  by  Tottell,  London,  1557. 
His  Latin  ITor/cs  were  also  separately  collected  in  one  vol.,  Eaasl,  1563 ;  Louvain, 
1560;  and,  riiost  complete,  "I-'rankfort  and  Lelnslc,  1689.  The  t^topia  has  had 
numerous  editions,  the  first  is  Louv.,  1516.  There  ate  two  English  translations 
of  the  Vtcpia,  byR.  Robynson,  London,  1551,  1556,  1624,  and  by  Gilb.  Burnet, 
1688.  Tho  Latin  poems,  Frogymnasmala,  appeared  in  1518,  1520,  1563.  This 
last  ed'tion  cont.iins  the  Utopia  and  other  prose  Latin  pieces.  (M.  P.) 

MOREAIt,  HioKsippE,  a  minor  lyric  poet  of  disputed 
but  considerable  talent,  was  born  at  Paris  on  the  9th  April 
1810,  and  died  in  the  hospital  of  La  CharitS  on  the  ]Oth 
December  1838.  Lq  his  early  youth  his  parents,  who  were 
very  ill-off,  migrated  to  Provins,  where  the  mother  went 
into  service  and  the  father  took  the  post  of  usher  in  a 
public  school.  Both  died  in  the  same  refuge  for  the  desti-" 
tute  which  afterwards  received  their  son.  Heg^sippe  was 
fairly  educated  and  was  apprenticed  to  a  printer,  but  he 
preferred  the  work  (in  France  usually  paid  most  miserably) 
of  "  maltre  d'lStudes  "  in  a  school.  He  went  to  Pai-is  before 
1830,  and  appears  to  have  practised  both  his  occupations 
there,  though  for  the  most  part  he  cither  adopted  by  choice 
or  was  driven  by  ill-fortune  to  adopt  the  singular  life  of 
alternate  hardship  and  cheap  dissipation  which  is  dignified 
in  France  by  the  name  of  Bohemianism.  In  Moreau's  casa 
there  is  no  doubt  that  tho  hardships  exceeded  the  dissipa- 
tion. He  was  habitually  houseless,  and  is  said  to  have 
exposed  himself  to  the  dangers  of  a  cholera  hospital  in 
the  great  epidemic  of  1832  simply  to  obtain  shelter  and 
food.  Then  he  revisited  Provins  and  published  a  kind  of 
satirical  serial  called  Diojene.  Some  years  of  this  life 
entirely  ruined  his  health,  and  it  was  OLjy  just  before  his 
death  that  he  succeeded  in  getting  his  collected  poems 
published,  selling  the  copyright  for  £i  sterling  and  eighty 
copies  of  the  book.  It  was  received  not  unfavo'orably, 
but,  as  has  happened  in  other  cases,  the  author's  death, 
which  happened  soon  in  the  circumstances  mentioned,  was 
required  to  excite  an  interest  which  was  proportionately 
excessive.  Moreau's  work,  like  tliat  of  many  other  young 
poets,  has  a  strong  note  of  imitation,  his  model  being 
esp(;cially  B6ranger ;  and  his  character,  both  moral  and 
literary,  is  not  improved  bj'  obvious.affectation  in  political, 
religious,  and  social  matters.  But  some  of  his  poems,  such 
as  La  Voulne  and  the  charming  La  Fermicre,  have  great 
sweetness,  and  he  had  a  faculty  of  ■writing  both  in  prose 
and  poetry  which  seems  to  show  that  with  better  fortune, 
or,  to  speai  honestly,  with  more  intelligence  and  more  per- 
severance he  might  easily  have  saved  himself  from  the 
miserable  destitution  which  was  his  Igt. 


820 


MO  R  — M  O  R 


MOREAIT,  Jean  Victoe  (1763-1813),  the  greatest 
general  of  the  French  republic  after  Napoleon  and  Heche, 
was  born  at  Mbrlaix  in  Brittany  in  1763.  His  father 
was  an  "  avocat "  in  good  practice,  and  instead  of  allowing 
him  to  enter  the  army,  as  he  wished,  insisted  on  his 
studying  law  at  the  university  of  Rennes.  Young  Morcau 
showed  no  inclination  for  law,  but  revelled  in  the  freedom 
of  a  student's  life.  Instead  of  taking  his  degree  he  con- 
tinued to  live  with  the  students  as  their  hero  and  leader.  In 
that  capacity  he  became  a  person  of  political  importance, 
and  in  the  troubles  of  1787  formed  the  law  students  into 
a  sort  of  army,  which  he  commanded  as  their  provost.  In 
1789  he  became  yet  more  imijortant,  and  commanded  the 
students  in  the  daily  affrays  which  took  place  at  Rennes 
between  the  young  noblesse,  who  protested  against  the  mode 
of  election  to  the  states-general,  and  the  populace.  Though 
he  had  hardly  weight  enough  to  be  chosen  a  deputy,  he 
waa  elected  one  of  the  committee  of  correspondence  with 
the  deputies  at  Paris.  He  was  thus  able  to  foUow  the 
coiu-se  of  events  in  the  early  days  of  the  Revolution,  and 
was  early  impressed  ■nath  the  conviction  that  no  compromise 
with  the  court  was  possible,  and  a  republic  the  only  re- 
source. These  opinions  estranged  him  from  his  father, 
who  belonged  to  the  party  of  Breton  independence  and 
preferred  Brittany  to  France.  At  last,  in  1792,  at  the 
call  for  volunteers  he  organized  a  battalion,  and  was  at 
once  elected  its  commandant.  With  it  he  served  under 
Dumouriez,  and  in  1793  the  good  order  of  his  battalion, 
and  his  own  martial  character  a;id  republican  principles 
.■■.ecured  his  promotion  as  general  of  brigade.  Carnot,  who 
had  an  eye  for  the  true  qualities  of  a  general,  promoted 
him  to  be  general  of  division  in  1794,  and  gave  him  com- 
mand of  the  right  wing  of  the  army  v/hich,  under  Pichegru, 
was  destined  to  drive  the  English  and  Austrians  out  of  Flau- 
'  ders  by  separating  the  Austrians  from  the  English.  This  wing 
was  then  to  cover  the  occupation  of  Holland  by  the  main 
army  under  Pichegru.  These  operations  established  his 
military  fame,  aad  in  1 795  he  waa  given  the  command  of  the 
army  of  the  Rhine  and  the  Moselle,  with  which  he  crossed 
the  Rhine  and  advanced  into  Germany.  He  was  at  first 
completely  successful,  and  won  several  victories,  but  at  last 
had  to  execute  before  the  archduke  Charles  a  retreat  v/hich 
only  increased  his  fame,  as  he  managed  to  bring  back  with 
J:im  more  than  5000  prisoners.  In  1797  he  again  crossed 
the  Rhine,  but  his  operations  Were  checked  by  the  con- 
clusion of  the  preliminaries  ot  Leoben  between  Bonaparte 
and  the  Austrians.  It  was  at  this  time  he  found  out  the 
traitorous  correspondence  between  his  old  comi-ade  and 
commander  Pichegru  and  tho  prince  de  Cond^,  which  he 
foolishly  concealed,  and  naturally  has  ever  since  been  sus- 
pected of  at  least  partial'  complicity.  After  Fructidor  the 
Directory  ceased  to  employ  his  service,  until  the  absence  of 
Bonaparte  and  the  advance  of  Suwaroff  made  it  necfessary 
to  have  some  great  general  in  It?.ly.  Yet  it  was  only  as 
chief  of  the  staff  that  he  served  under  Scherer  and  Joubert, 
nnd  led  bac.k  the  French  army  after  the  latter's  death  at 
KoW.  When  Bonaparte  returned  from  Egj'pt  he  found 
Moreau  at  Paris,  greatly  dissatisfied  with  the  Directory  both 
fs  a  general  and  as  a  republican,  and  obtained  his  assistance 
in  tho  coup  d'etat  of  Brumaire,  when  Moreau  commanded 
the  force  which  occupied  the  Luxembourg.  In  reward, 
the  first  consul  again  gave  him  command  of  the  army  of  the 
Rhine,  with  which  he  fought  hia  last  great  campaign,  that 
of  Hohenlinden,  when  his  success  was  duo  ratlier  to  the 
splendid  military  qualities  of  his  generals  and  their  troops, 
and  his  ovm  tactical  genius,  than  to  any  insjiiration  of 
victory.  On  his  return  to  Paris  ho  married  Mdlle.  Hullot, 
an  ambitious  woman,  who  gained  a  complete  a.sccndency 
over  him,  and  with  the  enormous  fortime  acquired  during 
his  campaigns  he  purchased  a  luxurious  hotel  in  Paris  and 


also  Barras's  country-seat  of  Grosbois.  His  wife  exercised  an 
evil  influence  over  him,  and  collected  around  her  all  who  were 
discontented  with  the  aggrandizement  of  Napoleon.  This 
"  club  Moreau  "  frightoicd  Napoleon,  and  encouraged  the 
royalists ;  but  Morcau,  though  not  unwilling  to  become  a 
military  dictator  to  restore  the  republic,  would  not  intrigue 
for  the  restoration  of  Louis  XVIII.  All  this  was  well 
known  to  Napoleon,  who  sfeized  the  conspirators.  Moreau 
he  treated  with  real  leniency,  and  permitted  to  retire  first 
to  Spain,  and  then  to  America.  Here  the  general  lived 
in  great  content  for  seven  years,  when  his  wife,  who  could 
not  allow  him  to  rest,  made  him  enter  into  negotiations 
with  Bernadotte,  his  old  comrade,  who  was  now  crown- 
prince  of  Sweden.  At  his  suggestion  Moreau  entered  the 
service  of  the  czar  Alexander ;  and  with  Bernadotte 
he  planned  the  campaign  of  1813.  Fortunately  for  his 
fame  as  a  patriot  he  did  not  live  to  invade  France,  but 
was  mortally  wounded  while  talking  to  the  czar  at  the 
battle  of  Dresden  on  27th  August  1813,  and  died  on  2d 
September.  His  wife  received  a  pension  from  the  czar, 
and  was  given  the  rank  of  mar^chale  by  Louis  XVIII. 

Moreau's  fame  as  a  general  stands  very  high,  and  from  his  mar- 
vellous coolness  in  conducting  retreats  he  has  been  called  the  general 
of  retreats.  His  combinations  were  splendid,  and  his  temper  al.vays 
unruffled  wheu  most  closely  pressed  ;  but  he  laclied  the  sudden  spirit 
of  seizing  a  victory  which  distinguished  Napoleon  in  his  early  cam- 
paigns, iloreau  was  a  sincere  republican,  though  his  own  father  was 
guillotined  in  the  Terror  ;  and  the  army  of  the  Khine  was  the  hot- 
bed of  republicanism,  as  that  of  Italy  was  the  great  support  of  a 
military  tyranny.  As  a  man,  he  was  little  given  to  personal  ambi- 
tion till  his  marriage,  and  would  probably  not  only  have  seiTcd 
Napoleon  well  but  moderated  his  tendency  to  absolutism  by  his 
very  e.xistence,  had  not  his  wife  i-uined  any  such  hope  by  involving 
him  in  intrigues.  He  was  fortunate  in  the  moment  of  his  death, 
though  he  would  h.avo  been  more  so  had  he  died  in  America.  He 
seems  by  his  final  words,  *'  Soyez  trauquiiles,  messieurs  ;  c'est  mon 
sort,"  not  to  have  regretted  being  removed  from  his  equivocal 
position  as  a  general  in  arms  against  his  country. 

The  literature  on  Moreau  is  copious,  the  tiest  book  being  C.  Joclmuis,  GtruraX 
Morcau — Ahriss  einer  Geschichtf.  seines  Lebsiis  itnd  seiner  Feldzuge,  Berlin,  1814. 
A  more  ordinary  work  is  A.  de  Eeauchamp,  Vie  polUiqrte,  militaire^  et  privi:  d» 
Giniral  Moreau,  translated  by  Pliilippart,  London,  1814 ;  and  there  ' 
tract  on  his  death  in  Russian,  translated  into  English  undi 


'.rniiig  General  Moreait  and  his  Lest  Moments,  by  Paul  Sv 


title  Somt  iJ#- 
nin,  London^ 
(ILM.&) 


MOREL  or  Moechella.     See  Mushroom. 

MORELIA,  formerly  Valladolid,  a  city  of  Mexico, 
capital  of  the  state  of  Miv'hoacan  de  Ocampo,  is  situated 
125  miles  west  by  north  of  Mexico,  at  a  hciL;ln  of  6100  feet 
above  the  sea,  in  19°  42'  N.  lat.  and  101°" Vv'.  long.  The 
site  is  a  rocky  hiE  on  the  Guayangareo  valley,  and  the 
western  horizon  is  boimded  by  the  great  Quincco  mountain 
(1 1,000  feet).  Since  the  middle  of  the  century  a  considerable 
extension  of  the  city  has  taken  place,  especially  towards 
the  north  :  its  streets,  which  run  for  the  most  part  at  right 
angles  to  each  other,  had  increased  from  thirty  in  1856  to 
ninety-nine  in  1873.  The  principal  square  is  the  Plaza 
de  los  Martires  (formerly  de  Armas),  where  Matamoros 
was  shot  by  the  Spaniards  in  1814  ;  its  one  side  is  occupied 
by  the  cathedral  (1745),  a  largo  building  with  two  towers 
about  200  feet  high.  The  churches  of  the  Carmelites  (del 
Carmen)  and  San  Jose  are  of  some  note,  and  of  the  nine 
convents,  now  for  tho  most  part  in  ruins,  several  were 
wealthy  and  extensive.  That  of  the  Capuchins  is  now 
used  as  a  hospital,  the  old  seminary  has  been  turned  into 
a  state-house,  and  tho  tobacco  factory,  one  of  the  most 
ancient  buildings  in  the  city,  serves  as  municipal  oflices. 
An  important  institution,  supported  by  the  state,  is  the 
college  of  Sau  Nicolas  de  Hidalgo,  originally  founded  by 
Juan  do  San  Miguel  in  the  16th  century  and  rebuilt  in 
1868.  The  Ocampo  theatre  dates  from  1869-1870.  Water 
is  brought  from  a  distance  of  about  3  miles  by  a  fine 
aqueduct,  constructed  in  1788  by  D.  Antonio  de  San 
Miguel,  but  tho  quality  is  often  deteriorated  by  tho  pre- 
sence of  vegetable  matter.  Jlorelia  lies  tio  far  from  any 
great  natural  route  to  have  much  commerce  in  the  present 


M  O  R  — M  O  R 


821 


Btate'of  the  couiitiy,  aid  ite  mailufactures  are  limited  to 
the  production,  on  a  small  scale,  of  cotton,  woollen,  and  silk 
goods.  A  certain  delicate  sweotjneat  called  guayabale  is 
a  regular  article  of  commerce  to  Mexico.  In  1750  the  city 
had  about  18,000  inhabitants,  in  1873  the  municipality 
had  36,9-tO  and  the  city  proper  about  30,000,  and  in 
1880  the  number  is  stated  at  20,400. 

In  1541  Mendoza  chose  the  Guayangareo  valley  as  the  new  site 
for  the  city  of  Michoacan,  and  in  1545  the  place  received  the  name 
of  ValladoUd.  Iturbide  and  Morelos  were  both  bom  within  its 
precincts  ;  and  in  1823  the  Government  did  this  Utter  patriot  the 
honour  of  renaming  the  city  Morelia.  In  1863  it  was  made  the  seat 
of  an  archbishop.    SeeBol.Soc.  degeogr.  dela  Rep.  Jfisr.,  Mex.,  1873. 

MORELLET,  Andk^  (1727-1819),  economist  and  miscel- 
laneous writer,  was  born  at  Lyons  on  the  7th  of  March  1727. 
He  was  long  regarded  as  almost  the  last  survivor  of  the 
Philosophe  school ;  and  in  this  character  he  figures  in  many 
memoirs, — for  instance  in  Madame  de  Remusat's.  He  was 
educated  by  the  Jesuits  in  his  native  town,  then  at  a 
seminary  in  Paris,  and  finally  at  the  Sorbonne ;  and  he 
took  holy  orders,  but  his  designation  of  abbi  was  the  chief 
thing  clerical  about  him.  He  early  joined  the  Philosophe 
party,  and  was  a  frequenter  of  most  of  their  salons,  being 
something  of  a  butt  (especially  to  his  fellow-abbi  and  rival 
in  political  economy,  Gfaliani),  but  having  the  credit  of  a 
ready  and  biting  pen.  Voltaire  called  him  "  L'AbbS 
Mord-les."  His  work  was  chiefly  occasional,  and  the  most 
notable  parts  of  it  were  a  smart  pamphlet  in  answer  to 
Palissot's  scurrilous  play  Les  Philosophes  (which  procured 
him  a  short  sojourn  in  the  Bastille  for  an  alleged  libel  on 
Palissot's  patroness,  the  princesse  de  Robeck),  and  a  reply 
to  Galiani's  Commerce  dea  BUs  (1770).  Later,  he  made 
himself  useful  in  quasi-diplomatic  communications  with 
English  statesmen,  and  was  pensioned,  being,  moreover, 
elected  a  member  of  the  Academy  m  1785.  The  outbreak 
of  the  Revolution  (soon  after  which  he  was  engaged  in  a  con- 
troversy with  Chajnfort  on  the  question  of  the  advantages 
and  deserts  of  the  Academy)  did  not,  as  it  did  with  many 
of  his  friends,  drive  him  from  the  country  or  put  his  life 
in  danger,  but  it  put  him  in  considerable  straits  of  fortune. 
He  maintained  a  kind  of  moderate  liberal  tone,  and  the 
return  of  something  like  order  under  the  Consulate  and 
the  Empire  restored  him  to  prosperity  and  pensions.  A 
year  before  his  death,  at  the  great  age  of  ninety-two,  on  the 
12th  of  January  1819  at  Paris,  he  brought  out  a  series  of 
ifelaTigef,  composed  chiefly  of  selections  from  his  former 
publications ;  and  after  his  death  appeared  his  memoirs, 
which  are  of  value  for  the  Philosophe  period.  Morellet, 
though  not  a  man  of  extraordinary  ability  or  of  specially 
amiable  or  estimaUe  character,  was  in  both  respects  a  fair 
specimen  of  the  man  of  letters  of  all  work  of  the  time. 
He  was,  in  fact,  a  journalist  with  a  special  turn  for  econo- 
mical subjects. 

MORERI,  Louis.    See  Encyclop.edia,  vol.  viii.  p.  194. 

MORETO,  Agustin  (1618-1669),  Spanish  dramatist 
and  playwright,  was  born  at  Madrid  in  1618.  Of  his 
personal  and  even  of  his  literary  history  little  is  known. 
He  studied  at  Alcala  between  1634  and  1639,  and  after- 
wards removed  to  Toledo,  where  he  entered  the  household 
of  the  cardinal -archbishop  and  took  holy  orders.  Ulti- 
mately he  withdrew  altogether  from  the  world,  and  died  a 
member  of  an  ascetig  religious  brotherhood  in  1669. 

Moreto  in  his  younger  years  was  a  prolific  writer  for  the  stage, 
and  almost  rivalled  Calderon  in  popularity.  Three  volumes  of  his 
plays  were  printed  between  1664  and  1681,  and  many  dramas 
besides  are  attributed  in  whole  or  in  part  to  him.  He  employed 
all  the  dramatic  forms  then  in  vogue.  Of  his  religious  plays,  Los 
mu  Dichoaos  ffermanos  (The  Most  Fortunate  Brothers),  embody- 
ing the  legend  of  the  seven  sleepers,  may  be  mentioned  as  the  least 
bombastic  and  absurd.  Others  are  El  Sosario  Perseguido,  turning 
on  the  persecutions  connected  with  the  introduction  of  the  roaary 
into  Spain,  and  Maria  Egypciaca,  a  curious  representation  of  the 
extraordinary  legend  of  St  Mary  of  Egypt    His  heroic  drama,  Et 


ValicnU  Justiciero  (The  Brave  Justiciary),  a  story  of  the  times  of 
Pedro  the  Cruel,  is  one  of  (rcnsiderable  power.  His  *'  comedias 
de  figuron,"  or  "character  comedies,"  as  they  are  called  (compare 
vol.  viL  p.  422),  include  El  Lindo  Don  Diego  (The  Handsome 
Don  Diego)  and  El  Desden  eon  tl  Dcsden  (Disdain  met  ^ith 
Disdain),  the  latter  partly  borrowed  from  Lope  de  Vega's  Milagros 
del  Desprecio,  and  m  turn  imitated  by  Moli^re  (in  his  Prinasse 
d'^lide),  by  Carlo  Gozzi  {PTincipcssa  Filoso/a),  and  by  Schreyvogol 
{Donna  Diana).  The  Comedias  Escogidas  de  Don  Agustin  Moreto 
y  Cabaila  form  the  39th  volume  of  the  BiblioUca  de  Autores  Espa- 
Holes  (Madrid,  1856). 

MORETTO,  II  ("  The  Blackamoor,"  a  term  which  has 
not  been  particularly  accounted  for),  is  the  name  currently 
bestowed  upon  AlessandkoBonvicino(1498-c.  1560),  acelo- 
brated  painter  of  Brescia,  Venetian  schooL  He  was  bom 
at  Rovato  in  the  Bresciau  territory  in  1498,  and  studied 
first  under  Fioravante  Ferramola  of  Brescia,  afterwards, 
still  youthful,  with  Titian  in  Venice.  His  own  earlier 
method,  specially  distingmshed  by  excellent  portrait-paint- 
ing, was  naturally  modelled  on  that  of  Titian.  Afterwards 
he  conceived  a  great  enthusiasm  for  Raphael  (though  he 
does  not  appear  to  have  ever  gone  to  Rome),  and  his  style 
became  partially  Raphaelesque.  It  was,  however,  novel  in 
its  combina'tion  of  diverse  elements,  and  highly  attractive, — 
with  fine  pencilling,  a  rich  yet  not  lavish  use  of  perspective 
and  decorative  effects,  and  an  elegant  opposition  of  light 
and  shade.  The  human  figure  is  somewhat  slender  in 
Bonvicino's  paintings,  the  expression  earnestly  religious, 
the  flesh-tints  varied,  more  so  than  was  common  in  the 
Venetian  school.  The  backgrounds  are  generally  luminous, 
and  the  draperies  well  modified  in  red  and  yellow  tints 
with  little  intermixture  of  blue.  The  depth  of  Bonvicino's 
talent,  however,  was  hardly  in  proportion  to  its  vigour 
and  vivacity ;  and  he  excelled  more  in  sedate  altar-pieces 
than  in  subjects  of  action,  and  more  in  oil-painting  than 
in  fresco,  although  some  fine  series  of  his  frescos  remain, 
especially  that  in  the  villa  Martinengo  at  Novarino,  near 
Brescia.  Among  his  celebrated  works  in  the  city  are — in 
the  chiu'ch  of  S.  Clemente,  the  Five  Virgin  Martyrs,  ind 
the  Assumption  of  the  Madorma  (this  latter  may  count  as 
his  masterpiece) ;  in  S.  Nazaro  e  Celso,  the  Coronation  of 
the  Madonna ;  in  S.  Maria  delle  Grazie,  St  Joseph ;  in  S. 
Maria  de'  MiracoU,  St  Nicholas  of  BarL  In  the  Vienna 
Gallery  is  a  St  Justina  (once  ascribed  to  Pordenone) ;  in 
the  Stadel  Institute,  Frankfort,  the  Madonna  enthroned 
between  Sts  Anthony  and  Sebastian ;  in  the  Berlin  Museum, 
a  colossal  Adoration  of  the  Shepherds,  and  a  large  votive 
picture  (one  of  the  master's  best)  of  the  Madonna  and 
Child,  with  infant  angels  and  other  figures  above  the 
clouds,  and  below,  amid  a  rich  landscape,  two  priests ;  in 
the  London  National  Gtallery,  St  Bernardin  and  other 
saints,  and  two  impressive  portraits.  H  Moretto  is  stated 
to  have  been  a  man  of  childlike  personal  piety,  preparing 
himself  by  prayer  and  fasting  for  any  great  act  of  sacred 
art,  such  as  the  painting  of  the  Virgin-mother.  His  dated 
works  extend  from  1524  to  1554,  and  he  was  the  master  of 
the  pre-eminent  portrait-painter  Moroni.  His  death  took 
place  towards  1560. 

MORGAGNI,  GiovAJon  Battista  (1682-1771),  the 
founder  of  pathological  anatomy,  was  born  25th  February 
1682  at  Forli,  an  ancient  and  important  toivn  on  the 
.iEmiUan  road  southwards  from  Bologna.  ^  His  parents 
were  in  comfortable  circumstances,  but  not  of  the  nobility; 
it  appears  from  his  letters  to  Lancisi  that  Morgagni  was 
ambitious  of  gaining  admission  into  that  rank,  and  it  may 
be  inferred  that  he  succeeded  from  the  fact  that  he  is 
described  on  a  memorial  tablet  at  Padua  as  "nobilis 
Forolensis."  At  school  he  was  conspicuous  for  his  talentSj 
and  he  was  especially  noted  for  his  readiness  in  classical 
epigram.     At  the  age  of  sixteen  he  went  to  Bologna  to 


•  A  statue  of  the  illustrious  citiwn  was  erected  at  Forll  in  1875,  and 
the  town  library  preserves  fourteen  MS.  volumes  of  his  writings. 


822 


M  0  R  G  A  G  N  I 


studj'  philosophy  and  medicine,  and  he  graduated  with 
much  6clat  as  doctor  in  both  faculties  three  years  later 
(1701).  He  acted  as  prosector  to  Valsalva  (one  of  the 
distinguished  pupils  of  Malpighi),  who  held  the  office  of 
"  demonstrator  anatomicus  "  in  the  Bologna  school.  He 
assisted  Valsalva  more  particularly  in  preparing  his  cele- 
brated work  on  the  Anatomy  and  Diseases  of  the  Ear,  which 
came  out  in  1704.  Many  years  after  (1740),  Morgagni 
edited  a  collected  edition  of  Valsalva's  writings,  with  im- 
portant additions  to  the  treatise  on  the  ear,  and  with  a 
memoir  of  the  author.  When  Valsalva  was  transferred 
to  Parma  Morgagni  succeeded  to  his  anatomical  demon- 
stratorship. At  this  period  he  enjoyed  a  high  repute 
in  Bologna ;  he  was  made  president  of  the  Academia 
Inquietorum  when  in  his  twenty- fourth  year,  and  he 
is  said  to  have  signalized  his  tenure  of  the  presiden- 
tial chair  by  discouraging  abstract  speculations,  and  by 
Betting  the  fashion  towards  exact  anatotriical  observa- 
tion and  reasoning.  He  published  the  substance  of  his 
communications  to  the  Academy  in  1706  under  the  title 
of  Adversaria  Anaiomira,  the  first  of  a  series  by  which 
ho  became  favourably  known  throughout  Europe  as  an 
accurate  anatomist ;  the  book  included  "  Observations 
on  the  Larynx,  the  Lachrymal  Apparatus,  and  the  Palvic 
Organs  in  the  Female."  After  a  time  he  gave  up  his 
post  at  Bologna,  and  occupied  himself  for  the  next  two 
or  three  years  at  Padua  and  Venice  with  anatomical 
studies  (of  fishes  at  the  latter  city),  as  well  as  with 
chemistry  and  pharmacy,  and  vnth  reading  in  the  libraries. 
He  then  settled  in  practice  in  his  native  town,  and  soon 
attracted  a  large  amount  of  business ;  there  was  hardly  a 
case  of  much  difSculty  about  which  he  was  not  consulted 
even  by  the  older  physicians,  "  adeo  erat  in  observando 
attentus,  in  prsedicendo  cautua,  in  curando  felix."  Such 
at  least  is  the  contemporary  eulogy.  After  less  than  three 
years  of  this  career,  which  he  found  fatiguing,  he  sought 
an  opportunity  of  returning  to  more  academical  work. 
At  Padua  he  had  a  friend  in  the  elder  Guglielmini,  pro- 
fessor of  medicine,  but  better  known  as  a  writer  on  physics 
and  mathematics,  whose  works  he  afterwards  edited  (1719) 
with  a  biography.  Guglielmini  desired  to  see  him  settled 
as  a  teacher  at  Padua,  and  the  unexpected  death  of 
Guglielmini  himself  made  the  project  feasible,  VaUisnieri 
being  transferred  to  the  vacant  chair  and  Morgagni  suc- 
ceeding to  the  chair  of  theoretical  medicine.  He  came  to 
Padua  in  the  spring  of  1712,  being  then  in  his  thirty-first 
year,  and  he  taught  medicine  there  ^vith  the  most  brilliant 
success  until  his  death  sixty  years  later  (6th  December 
1771).  When  he  had  been  three  years  in  Padua  an  oppor- 
tunity occurred  for  his  promotion  (by  the  Venetian  senate) 
to  the  chair  of  anatomy,  in  which  he  became  the  successor 
of  an  illustrious  line  of  scholars,  including  Vesalius, 
Fallopius,  Fabricius,  Gasserias,  and  Spigelius,  and  in  which 
he  enjoyed  a  stipend  that  was  increased  from  time  to  time 
by  vote  of  the  senate  until  it  reached  twelve  hundred  gold 
ducats.  Shortly  after  coming  to  Padua  he  married  a  lady 
of  Forli,  of  noble  parentage,  who  bore  him  three  sons  and 
twelve  daughters ;  of  the  daughters,  four  died  in  infancy, 
and  the  other  eight  took  the  veil  as  they  grew  up ;  of  the 
sons,  one  died  in  boyhood,  one  entered  the  Jesuit  order, 
and  the  eldest  settled  at  Forli,  where  he  married  and  lived 
to  the  age  of  fifty-two,  predeceasing  his  father  by  five  years 
and  leaving  a  family  to  his  care.  Morgagni  enjoyed  an 
unequalled  popularity  among  all  cla.s.ses.  He  was  of  tall 
and  dignified  figure,  with  blonde  hair  and  blue  eyes,  and 
with  a  frank  and  hajjpy  expression ;  his  manners  were 
polished,  and  he  was  noted  for  thi  elegance  of  his  Latin 
style.  Ho  lived  in  harmony  with  his  colleap^ics,  who  are 
said  not  even  to  have  envied  him  'ais  unprcccdentedly  large 
stipend ;  his  house  and  lecture  theatre  were  frequented 


."  tanquam  officina  s.ipientiaj "  by  students  of  all  agea 
attracted  from  all  parts  of  Europe ;  he  enjoyed  the  friend- 
ship and  favour  of  distinguished  Venetian  senators  and  of 
cardinals ;  successive  popes  conferred  honours  upon  hini  ; 
and  on  two  occasions  when  a  hostile  army  occupied  the 
jEmil'a  his  house  was  ordered  to  be  treated  with  the  same 
marked  distinction  that  the  great  Emathian  conqueror 
showed  to  the  house  of  Pindar.  Before  he  had  been  long 
in  Padua  the  students  of  the  German  nation,  of  all  the 
faculties  there,  elected  him  their  patron,  and  he  advised 
and  assisted  them  in  the  purchase  of  a  house  to  be  a 
German  library  and  club  for  all  time.  No  person  of  any 
learning  came  to  Padua  without  seeing  and  conversing 
with  Morgagni,  and  no  one  ever  left  him  without  admiring 
equally  his  character  and  his  teaching.  One  of  his  bio- 
graphers and  editors,  the  celebrated  Tissot  of  Lausanne, 
observes  that  he  had  met  with  several  Englishmen  re- 
turning from  Italy  who  told  with  pleasure  and  gratitude 
"quam  hnmaniter  Ulos  exceperat,  et  quantum  ex  illius 
coUoquiis,  doctis,  variis,  jucundis  profecerant."  He  was 
elected  into  the  Imperial  Caesareo-Leopoldina  Academy  in 
1708  (originally  located  at  Schweinfurth),  and  to  a  higher 
grade  in  1732,  into  the  Eoyal  Society  in  1724,  into  the 
Paris  Academy  of  Sciences  in  1731,  the  St  Petersburg 
Academy  in  1735,  and  the  Berlin  Academy  in  1754. 
Among  his  more  celebrated  pupils  were  Scarpa  (who  died 
in  1832,  connecting  the  school  of  Morgagni  with  the 
modern  era),  Cotunnius  (Cotugno),  and  Caldani,  the  author 
of  the  magnificent  atlas  of  anatomical  plates  published  in 
4  vols,  at  Venice  in  1801-1814. 

Meanwliile  he  published  on  a  variety  of  subjectd.  In  bis  earlier 
years  at  Padua  be  brought  out  (1717-1719)  five  more  series  of  tbe 
Adversaria  Anaioviica  oy  wbicb  bis  reputation  was  first  made  ; 
but  for  more  tban  twenty  years  after  tbe  last  of  tbese  his  strictly 
medical  publications  were  few  and  casual  (on  gall-stoues,  varices  of 
the  vena  cava,  cases  of  stone,  and  several  memoranda  on  medico-legal 
points  drawn  up  at  the  request  of  the  cui-ia).  Classical  scholarsliip 
in  those  years  occupied  bis  pen  more  tban  anatomical  observations  ; 
and  the  reason  of  this  appears  to  have  been  that  he  spent  the 
summer  months  in  the  country  for  the  sake  of  his  health,  and  occupied 
his  leisure  with  literary  studies.  His  writings  in  this  class  include 
letters  to  Ijancisi  on  the  m.onner  of  Cleopatra  s  death,  commentaries 
on  Celsus  and  Sammonicus,  notes  on  Pi'osper  Alplnus,  Varro, 
Vegetius,  Columella,  and  Yitruvius,  and  antiquarian  researches 
into  tbe  topography  of  the  country  round  Ravenna  and  bis  own 
birthplace  (Forum  Livii).  His  edition  of  tbe  worts  of  Valsalva, 
published  in  1740  (in  2  vols.  4to)  with  plates,  occupied  much  of 
nis  time,  being  enriched  with  a  life  and  a  commcntai-y,  and  with 
many  additional  observations  of  bis  own.  It  was  not  until  1761, 
when  ho  was  in  bis  eightieth  year,  that  be  brought  cut  tbe  great 
work  which,  once  for  all,  made  pathological  anatomy  a  science, 
and  diverted  tbe  course  of  medicine  into  new  channels  of  exactness 
or  precision — the  Dc  Scdibus  ci  Causis  Morhorvm  per  Anatomem 
indagalis.  He  died  on  6tb  December  1771.  During  the  preceding 
ten  years  tbe  Ds  Scdilnts,  notwithstanding  its  bidk,  was  reprinted 
several  times  (thrice  in  four  years)  in  its  original  Latin,  and  was 
translated  into  French  (1765),  English  (1769,  3  vols.  4to),  and 
German  (1771).  Some  account  of  this  remarkable  work  remains 
now  to  be  given. 

The  only  special  treatise  on  pathological  anatomy  previous  to  that 
of  Morgagni  was  the  work  of  Th^opbile  Bonet  of  Ncucbatcl,  Scjatl- 
ckrctitvi :  sire  Anatomia  practiea  ex  endavcrillis  iiiorho  dcnafis,  lil-st 
published  (Geneva,  2  vols,  folio)  in  1679,  three  yeara  before  Morg:;gni 
was  boi-n  ;  it  was  republished  at  Geneva  (3  vols,  folio)  in  1700,  and 
again  at  Leyden  in  1709.  Although  the  normal  anatomy  of  the 
body  bud  been  comprcbensivoly,  and  in  some  parts  exhaustively 
Vrittcn  by  Vesalius  and  Fallopius,  it  bad  not  occurred  to  any  one 
to  examine  and  describe  systematically  the  anatomy  of  dise^iscd 
origans  and  parts.  Harvey,  a  century  after  Vesalius,  n.iivcly  re- 
marks that  tliero  is  more  to  bo  learned  from  the  dissection  of  one 
person  who  bad  died  of  consumption  or -other  clironic  malady  tban 
from  the  bodies  of  ten  persons  who  had  been  hanged.  Glisson 
indeed  (1597-1677)  shows,  in  a  pass.ago  quoted  by  Bonet  in  the 
preface  to  tbe  Sepulehrctum,  that  bo  was  familiar  vrith  the  idea, 
at  least,  of  systematically  comparing  tbe  state  of  the  organs  in  a 
series  of  cadavera,  and  of  noting  those  conditions  which  invariably 
accompanied  a  given  set  of  symptoine.  Tbe  work  of  Bonet  was, 
however,  tho  first  attempt  at  a  system  of  morbid  anatomy,  ard, 
although  it  dwelt  mostly  upon  curiosities  and  monstrositios,  it 


M  O  R— TVI  0  R 


823 


oyoyed  much  repnte  in  its  day ;  Haller  speaks  of  it  as  "  an  im- 
mortal work,  which  may  in  itself  servo  for  a  pathological  library. " 
'Morgagni,  in  the  preface  to  his  own  work,  discusses  the  defects  and 
merits  of  the  SepulchrUum  ;  it  was  largely  a  compilation  of  other 
men's  cases,  well  and  ill  authenticated;  it  was  prolii,  often  inaccurate 
.and  misleading  from  ignorance  of  the  normal  anatomy,  and  it  was 
wanting  in  What  womd  now  be  called  objective  impartiality, — a 
quality  which  was  introduced  as  decisively  into  morbid  anatomy 
by  Morgagni  as  it  had  been  introduced  two  centuries  earlier  into 
normal  liuman  anatomy  by  Vesalius.  Morgagni  has  narrated  .the 
circumstances  under  which  the  De  Scdibus  took  origin.  Having 
finished  Ma  edition  of  Valsalva  in  1740,  he  was  taking  a  holiday  in 
the  country,  spending  much  of  his  time  in  the  company  of  a  young 
friend  who  was  curious  in  many  branches  'of  knowledge.  The 
conversation  turned  upon  the  Sepulchretum  of  Bonet,  and  it  was 
suggested  to  Morgagni  by  his  dilettante  friend  that  he  should  put 
on  record  his  omti  oBservations.  It  was  agreed  that  letters  on  the 
anatomy  of  diseased  organs  and  parts  should  bo  written  for  the 
perusal  cf  this  favoured  youth  (whose  name  does"  not  transpire) ; 
and  they  were  continued  from  time  to  time  unti^  they  numbered 
seventy.  Those  seventy  letters  constitute  the  De  SedilM  el  Causia 
Morbonim^  which  was  given  to  the  world  as  a  systematic  treatise 
in  2  vols,  folio,  Venice,  1761,  twenty  years  after  the  task  of  epis- 
tolary instruction  was  begun.  The  letters  are  arranged  in  five 
books,  treating  of  the  raorWd  conditions  of  the  body  a  capiU  ad 
calcem.  The  five  books  are  dedicated  respectively  to  Trew,  Brom- 
field,  Senac,  Schreiber,  and  Meckel,  as  representing  the  several 
learned  societies  of  which  Morgagni  was  a  foreign  member.  The 
five  books  together  contain,  according  to  an  enumeration  by  the 
present  writer,  the  records  of  some  640  dissections.  Some  of  these 
».-e  given  at  great  length,  and  \vith  a  precision  of  statement  and  ex- 
haustiveness  of  detail  hardly  surpassed  in  the  so-called  "protocols  " 
of  the  German  pathological  institutes  of  the  present  time  ;  others, 
again,  are  fragments  brought  in  to  elucidate  some  question  that  had 
arisen.  The  symptoms  during  the  course  of  the  malady  and  other 
antecedent  circumstances  ace  always  prefixed  with  more  or  less  ful- 
ness, and  discussed  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  conditions  found 
after  death.  Subjects  in  all  ranks  of  life,  including  several  cardinals, 
figure  in  this  remarkable  gallery  of  the  dead.  Many  of  the  cases 
are  taken  from  Morgagni's  early  experiences  at  Bologna,  and  from 
the  records  of  his  teachers  Valsalva  and  Albertini  not  elsewhere 
published.  Those  six  hundred  or  more  cases  are  selected  and 
arranged  with  method  and  purpose,  and  they  are  often  (and  some- 
what casually)  made  the  occasion  of  a  long  excursus  on  general 
pathology  and  therapeutics.  Tbe  range  of  Morgagni's  scholarship, 
as  evidenced  by  his  references  to  early  and  contemporary  literature, 
strikes  one  \vith  astonishment.  It  has  been  contended  that  he  was 
himself  not  free  from  prolixity,  the  besetting  sin  of  the  learned  ;  and 
artaiuly  the  form  and  aiVangement  of  his  treatise  are  such  as  to 
make  it  difficult  to  use  in  the  present  day,  notwithstanding  that  it 
is  well  indexed  in  the  original  edition,  in  that  of  Tissot  (3  vols. 
4to,  Yverdun,  1779),  and  in  more  recent  editions.  It  differs  from 
modern  treatises  in  so  far  as  thQ  symptoms  determine  the  order  and 
manner  of  presenting  the  anatomical  facts.  Although  Morgagni  was 
the  first  to  understand  and  to  demonstrate  the  absolute  necessity  of 
basing  dia^osis,  prognosis*  and  treatment  on  an  exact  and  com- 
prehensive Knowledge  of  anatomical  conditions,  he  made  no  attempt 
(like  that  of  the  Vienna  school  sixty  years  later)  to  exalt  pathological 
anatomy  into  a  science  disconnected  from  clinical  medicine  and 
remote  from  practical  needs.  His  orderliness  of  anatomical  method 
(irapl}'ing  his  skill  with  the  scalpel),  his  precision,  his  exhaustive- 
ness,  and  his  freedom  from  bias  are  his  essentially  modern  or 
scientific  qualities ;  his  scholarship  and  high  consideration  for 
classical  and  foreign  work,  his  sense  of  practical  ends  (or  his  common 
sense),  and  the  breadth  of  his  intellectual  horizon  prove  him  to 
have  lived  before  medical  science  had  become  largely  technical  or 
mechanical.  It  is  clear  that  Morgagni's  immense  personal  influence 
during  his  lifetime  did  not  alone  make  his  book  famous ;  at  a 
distance  of  two  hundred  years  from  his  birth,  and  more  than  one 
hundrcil  from  his  death,  the  opinion  is  unanimous  that  his  treatise 
was  the  commencement  of  the  era  of  steady  or  cumulative  progress 
in  pathology  and  in  practical  medicine.  SjTnptoms  from  that  time 
ceased  to  be  made  up  iuto  more  or  less  conventional  groups,  each 
of  wliich  was  a  disease  ;  on  the  other  hand,  they  began  to  be  viewed 
as  *'  the  cry  of  the  suffering  organs,"  and  it  now  became  possible  to 
develop  Sydenham's  gi-and  conception  of  a  natural  history  of  disease 
in  a  catholic  or  scientific  spirit.  Laennec'sapplication  of  the  stetho- 
scope to  detect  the  sounds  given  out  in  diseased  states  of  the  heart 
and  lungs,  and  Bright's  application  of  the  test-tube  and  re-agents 
to  reach  the  structural  and  functional  conditions  of  tbe  kidney 
through  the  state  of  the  urine,  were  the  direct  results  of  ilorgagni's 
endeavour  to  lay  bare  the  seats  and  causes  of  disease  by  anatomy  ; 
and  those  two"  means  of  diagnosis  are  the  daUy  and  hourly  resource 
of  every  modem  practitioner.  In  more  general  terms,  Morgagni's 
work  substituted  localization  for  generalization  and  precision  for 
vagueness. 
.  A  biography  of  Morgagni  by  Mosca  was  published  at  Kaplrs  is  176S.    Els 


MORGAN,  Sydney  Owenson,  Lady  (1777^-1859), 
novelist  and  miscellaneous  describer  and  critic,  was  one  of 
the  most  vivid  and  hotly-discussed  literary  personages  of 
her  generation.  She  was  the  daughter  of  an  Irish  actor, 
but  it  was  one  of  her  whims  to  keep  the  year  of  her  birth 
a  secret ;  "  once  upon  a  time  "  on  Christmas  day  was  her 
answer  to  inquiries.  She  began  her  literary  career  with  a 
precocious  volume  of  poems.  Her  second  venture,  St  Clair 
(1804),  a  novel  of  ill-judged  marriage,  ifl^tarred  love,  and 
impassioned  nature-worship,  in  which  the  influence  of 
Goethe  and  Eousseau  was  apparent,  at  once  attracted 
attention.  Another  novel,  The  Soviet  of  St  Dominick 
(1806),  was  also  praised  for  its  qualities  of  copious  imagina- 
tion and  description,  though  the  critics  were  inclined  to 
nibble  at  the  writer's  grammar.  But  the  book  which 
made  her  reputation  and  brought  her  name  into  warm  con- 
troversy was  The  Wild  Irish  Girl,  also  published  in  1806. 
In  this  she-ap'peared  as  the  ardent  champion  of  her  native 
country,  a  politician  rather  than  a  novelist,  extolling  the 
beauty  of  Irish  scenery,  the  richness  of  the  natural  wealth 
of  Ireland,  the  noble  traditions  of  its  early  history,  and 
sketching  types  of  the  various  classes  with  direct  refer- 
ence to  the  misgovemment  to  which  she  traced  their  evil 
features.  She  followed  this  up  with  Patriotic  Sketches  and 
Metrical  Fragments  in  1807,  fitting  some  Irish  melodies  with 
words  ("Kate  Kearney"  among  the  number)  in  the  same 
year  in  which  Moore  began  a  similar  task.  Miss  Owen- 
son's  politics  and  the  favour  shown  her  by  the  Whig 
aristocracy  probably  prompted  the  savage  attack  made 
upon  her  next  novel,  Ida,  a  Woman  of  Athene,  in  the  first 
number  of  the  Quarterly  {\9Q'Si).  From  first  to  last  her 
style  was  open  to  the  reproach  of  being  made  up  too  much 
of  quotations,  and  her  grammar  was  not  always  correct ; 
but  exuberant  humour,  keen  wit,  and  fertility  in  the  inven- 
tion of  striking  and  romantic  incidents  carry  any  unbiassed 
reader  easily  over  all  minor  faults  of  composition.  Her 
great  ambition  was  to  draw  vivid  pictures  of  the  mingled 
"  mirth  and  misery,  ferocity  and  fun,"  of  the  Irish  under 
English  rule,  and  she  succeeded.  Her  novels  sufi'er  as 
stories  from  this  political  purpose  ;  she  drags  in  too  many 
character-sketches,  and,  though  they  ere  al^-ays  drawn 
with  vivacity  and  sharp  penetration,  they  are  drawn  with 
too  much  bias  of  romantic  enthusiasm  on  the  one  side 
and  satirical  spite  on  the  other.  In.  1812  she  was  married 
to  Sir  T.  C.  Morgan,  but  books  still  continued  to  flow 
from  her  facile  pen.  In  1814  she  produced  her  best 
novel,  O'DonneL,  a  decided  advance  on  previous  work.' 
She  published  an  elaborate  study  of  France  under  the 
Bourbon  restoration  in  1817.  This  was'  attacked  with 
outrageous  fury  in  the  Quarterly,  the  authoress  being 
accused  of  Jacobinism,  falsehood,  licentiousness,  and  im- 
piety. She  took  her  revenge  indirectly  in  the  novel  of 
Florence  Macarthy  (1818),  in  which  a  Quarterly  reviewer, 
Con  Crawley,  is  insulted  with  supreme  feminine  ingenuity. 
Italy,  a  companion  work  to  her  France,  was  published  in 
1821 ;  Lord  Byron  bears  testimony  to  the  justness  of  its 
pictures  of  life.  The  results  of  Italian  historical  studies 
were  given  in  her  Life  and  Times  of  Salvator  Rosa  (1824). 
Then  she  turned  again  to  Irish  manners  and  politics  with 
a  matter-of-fact  book  on  Absenteeism  (182.5),  and  a  highly 
stirring  and  romantic  novel.  The  O'Briens  and  the  O'Fla- 
hertys  (1827).  The  Book  of  the  Boudoir  (1829)  consisted 
of  miscellaneous  reflexions  and  reminiscences.  Under  the 
ministry  of  Lord  Grey  Lady  Morgan  obtained  a  pension  of 
£300.  During  the  last  thirty  years  of  her  long  life  she 
broke  no  new  ground,  but  to  the  last  she  was  an  entertain- 
ing writer,  and  sent  some  sprightly  verses  to  the  Atlienesitm 


824 


M  O  R  — M  O  R 


in  January  1859,  a  few  weeks  before  her  deatli,  protesting 
against  being  called  old.  Tlie  titled  of  lier  books  in  this 
period  are  : — France  in  1829-30,  Dramatic  Scenes  from  Real 
Life  (1833),  Tlie  Princess  (1835),  JVoman  and  her  Master 
(1840),  The  Book  ivilhoui  a  Name  (1811),  Passages  from 
my  Autobiography  (1859).  More  of  her  autobiography 
and  many  interesting  letters  were  edited  ■iWth  a  memoir  by 
Hepworth  Dixon  in  18G2.  He  respected  her  prejudice 
against  disclosing  her  exact  age. 

MORGANATIC  MAERIAGE.  Sea  Maeeiage. 
MORGHEN,  Raffaello  Sanzio  (175S-1833),  a  distin- 
guished engraver,  was  born  at  Naples  on  19th  June  1758. 
He  received  his  earliest  instructions  from  his  father,  him- 
self an  engraver ;  but,  in  order  to  be  initiated  more  fully 
in  "the  art,  he  was  afterwards  placed  as  a  pupil  under  the 
celebrated  Volpato.  He  assisted  this  master  in  engraving 
the  famous  pictures  of  Raphael  in  the  Vatican,  and  the 
print  which  represents  the  miracle  of  Bolsena  is  inscribed 
xvith  his  name.  He  married  Volpato's  daughter,  and,  being 
invited  to  Florence  to  engrave  the  masterpieces  of  the 
Florentine  gallery,  he  removed  thither  with  his  wife  in 
1782.  His  reputation  now  became  so  great  as  to  induce 
the  artists  of  Florence  to  recommend  him  to  the  grand-duke 
as  a  fit  person  to  engrave  the  Last  Supper  of  Leonardo 
da  Vinci ;  apart,  however,  from  the  dilapidated  state  of 
the  picture  itself,  the  drawing  made  for  Morghen  was 
unworthy  of  the  original,  and  the  print,  in  consequence, 
although  an  admirable  production,  fails  to  convey  a  correct 
idea  of  the  style  and  merit  of  Leonardo.  Morghen's  fame, 
however,  soon  extended  over  Europe ;  and  the  Institute  of 
France,  as  a  mark  of  their  admiration  of  his  talents,  elected 
him  an  associate  in  1803.  In  1812  Napoleon  invited 
him  to  Paris  and  paid  him  the  most  flattering  attentions. 
He  died  at  Florence  on  8th  April  1833. 

A  list  of  the  artist's  woiks,  published  at  Florence  in  1810,  com- 
piised  200  compositions  ;  the  number  was  afterwards  considerably 
increased.  Amongst  the  most  remarkable,  besides  those  already 
mentioned,  may  be  noticed  the  Transfiguration  from  Raphael,  a 
Magdalen  from  jMurillo,  a  Head  of  the  Saviour  from  Da  Vinci,  the 
Car  of  Aurora  fi-om  Guide,  the  Hours  and  the  Repose  in  Egypt 
from  Poussin,  the  Pri^e  of  Diana  from  Domenichino,  the  Monument 
of  Clement  XIII.  from  Canova,  Theseus  vanquishing  the  Minotaur, 
Francesco  Moncado  after  Vandyke,  portraits  of  Dante,  Petrarch, 
Ariosto,  Tasso,  and  a  number  of  other  eminent  men.  His  prints 
have  hardly  maintained  the  reputation  which  they  enjoyed  during 
the  artist's  lifetime.  Though  carefully  and  delicately  executed,  they 
are  somewhat  mechanical  and  wanting  in  force  and  spirit. 

MORHOF,  Daniel  Geoeo  (1639-1691),  the  learned 
author  of  a  survey  of  universal  literature  entitled  Polyhislor 
sive  de  anctorum  notitia  et  rerum  commenlarii,  was  born  at 
Wismar  in  1639,  studied  law  at  Rostock,  and  was  appointed 
professor  of  poetry  there  in  1660.  In  1665  he  went  to 
the  new  university  of  Kiel  as  professor  of  eloquence  and 
poetry ;  this  chair  he  exchanged  for  that  of  history  in  1673. 
He  died  at  Liibeck  in  1691.  Of  his  numerous  writings 
only  the  Polyhistor  continues  to  be  of  value  to  the  literary 
historian  as  a  bibliographical  work  displaying  judgment 
as  well  as  knowledge.  The  first  seven  books  (Polyhistor 
Literarius)  appeared  in  1688-1698  ;  the  publication  of  the 
two  remaining  parts  (P.  Philosophicus  and  P.  Practicus) 
was  completed  by  MoUer  in  1707.  The  best  edition  is 
that  of  A.  Fabricius  (2  vols.  4to,  Leipsic,  1747). 

MORIAH.  In  2  Chron.  iii.  1  wo  read  that  Solomon 
built  the  Temple  at  Jerusalem  on  Mount  Moriah  (in 
nj'litsri).  Xhis  name  for  the  Temple  hill,  the  ancient  Zion, 
is  not  found  elsewhere  in  the  Old  Testament,  and  can 
hardly  have  been  a  current  one.  But  a  mountain  in  the 
"  land  of  Moriah  "  was  the  place  where  Abraham  was  com- 
manded to  sacrifice  Isaac  ;  Josephus  (Ant.,  i.  13,  2)  assumes 
that  this  Mtipiov  opoi  was  the  Temple  hill,  and  the  same 
view  is  expressed  in  the  Targums,  where  it  is  exegetically 
baKd  on  the  obscure  verse,  Gen.  uaL  14  (comp.  Jerome, 


Qusest.  ffeb.  in  Gen.  xxii.  2).  Probably  this  traditiotf 
already  existed  in  the  time  of  the  Chronicler,  who  appears 
to  connect  the  name  etymologically  vrilh  Jehovah's  mani- 
festation of  himself,  as  is  done  in  Gen.  xxii.  14.1 

Jerome  repeatedly  calls  the  Temple  hiU  Mount  Moriah,  but  the 
cunency  which  the  name  has  with  modem  writers  is  mainly  due 
to  the  erroneous  identification  of  Zion  with  the  western  hill  beyond 
the  TyropcEon.  In  Christian  tradition  the  place  of  Isaac's  sacrifice 
was  identified  with  Calvary  {see  Theodosius,  Dc  Situ  Terra:  Sands), 
and  it  is  now  shown  in  a  chapel  adjoining  the  church  of  the  Holy 
Sepulchre. 

MORIER,  James  (1780-1 849),  traveUer  and  author,  was 
born  in  1780.  Through  the  influence  of  his  uncle  Admiral 
William  Waldegrave,  Baron  RaJstock,  he  at  an  early  period 
entered  the  diplomatic  service,  and  as  secretary  to  Lord 
Elgin  followed  the  grand'  vizier  in  the  Egyptian  cam- 
paign. An  account  of  his  Eastern  experiences  was  pub- 
lished in  1812,  under  the  title  A  Journey  through  Persia,\ 
Armenia,  and  Asia  Minor  to  Constantinople  in  1 808-9.  From 
1810  to  1816  he  was  the  English  representative  at  the 
court  of  Persia,  and  after  his  return  he  published  A  Second 
Journey  through  Persia  to  Constantinople  between  the  years 
1810  and  1816.  His  knowledge  of  Eastern  life  and  man- 
ners he  also  turned  to  account  in  the  composition  of  several 
entertaining  romances,  displaying  some  skill  in  the  deline- 
ation of  Oriental  scenery  and  character,  and  considerable 
powers  of  wit  and  humour.  The  most  popular  of  these 
were: — The  Adventures  of  Hajji  Baba  of  Ispahan,  1824; 
The  Adventures  of  Hajji  Baba  of  Ispahan  in  England, 
1828  ;  Zohrab  the  Hostage,  1832  ;  and  Ayesha  the  Maid  of 
Ears,  1834.     Morier  died  at  Brighton,  23d  March  1849. 

MORILLON,  a  name  commonly  given  by  fowlers  to 
the  female  or  immature  male  of  the  Goldex-Eye  (vol.  x.i 
p.  757),  the  Clangula  glaucion  of  modern  ornithology,' 
under  the  belief  which  still  very  generally  obtains  among- 
them,  as  it  once  did  among  naturalists,  that  they  formed  a 
distinct  species  of  Duck.  The  mistake  no  doubt  originated 
in,  and  is  partly  excused  by,  the  facts  that  the  birds  called 
Morlllons  were  often  of  opposite  sexes,  and  differed  greatly 
from  the  adult  male  Golden- Eye, whosefull  and  beautiful  plu- 
mage is  not  assumed  until  the  second  year.  The  word  is  used 
in  French  in  precisely  the  same  form,  but  is  m  that  language 
applied  to  the  Tufted  Duck,  Fuligula  cristata,  and  is  derived, 
according  to  Littr^,  from  more,  signifying  black,     (a.  n.) 

MORIN,  Jean,  or,  in  Latin,  Joannes  Moeinus  (1591- 
1659),  the  most  learned  Catholic  theologian  of  his  time  and 
one  of  the  founders  of  Biblical  criticism,  was  born  in  1591 
at  Blois  of  Protestant  parents,  acquired  Latin  and  Greek  at 
Rochelle,  and  continued  his  studies  at  Leyden.  Immersed 
in  Biblical  and  patristic  lore,  he  began  to  waver  in  his 
Protestantism,  and  moved  to  Paris,  where  he  made  many 
friends  in  literary  circles,  particularly  Cardinal  Du  Perron, 
to  whom  his  conversion  to  Catholicism  is  ascribed.  In 
1618  he  joined  the  recently  formed  Parisian  Oratory, 
where  he  could  give  himself  to  quiet  study,  and  in  due 
course  took  priest's  orders.  In  1625  he  visited  England 
in  the  train  of  Henrietta  Maria,  and  in  1640  he  was  at 
Rome,  on  the  invitation  of  Cardinal  Barberini,  and  -was 
received  with  special  favour  by  Pope  Urban  \r[II.,  who 
employed  him  on  the  commission  for  forwarding  his  pro- 
ject of  union  with  the  Eastern  Chiu-ch.  He  was,  however, 
soon  recalled  to  Paris  by  Richelieu,  and  the  rest  of  his  life 
was  spent  among  books  in  incessant  literary  labour,  his 
health,  memory,  and  intellectual  vigour  remaining  unim- 
paired even  in  old  age.  His  pen  sometimes  brought  him 
into  trouble.  The  Histoire  de  la  dclivrance  de  l'£glite 
Chretienne  par  I'emp.  Constantin.  et  de  la  grandeur  et 
souveraineie  temporelle  donJiee  a  VEglijiC  Eomaine  par  Ics 
rois  de  France  (1630)  gave  great  offence  at  Rome,  and  a 


'  The  word  Moriah,  however,  can  hanlly  eome  from  nsi,  "  see  ;  "  it 
ia  perhaps  akin  to  Moreb,  "revealer,"  "Icfchcr.*^ 


M  O  R— M  O  R 


825 


Declaration  (1654),  directed  against  faults  in  the  adminis- 
tration of  the  Oratory  and  reflecting  on  the  general  (Father 
Bourgoing),  was  strictly  suppressed.  So,  too,  his  great  work 
on  penance  gave  equal  offence  to  the  Jesuits  and  to  Port^ 
Koyal,  and  even  after  his  death  (1659)  the  polemical 
vehemence  of  his  Exercitationes  Biblicse,  and  the  exaggera- 
tion of  his  assertion  "apud  neotericos  Haereticos  verba 
Scripturarum  non  esse  Integra,  non  superficiem,  non  folia, 
nedum  sensum,  medullam  et  radicem  rationis"  long  led 
Protestants  to  treat  his  valuable  contributions  to  the  history 
of  the  Hebrew  text  as  a  mere  utterance  of  Popish  prejudice. 

Moiinus  was  a  voluminous  and  prolix  writer  on  ecclesiastical 
antiquities.  His  principal  works  in  this  field  are  Comtnentarius 
tiL'toricus  de  disciplina  in  adininistraiione  sacramenti  paenitcntim 
XIII  primia  scculis  in  Eccl.  Occid.  et  kucusque  in  Orient,  ohservata 
(1651),  and  C<nmn.  de  sacris  Ecdcsim  ordinationibus  seatndum 
tintigucs  et  rccentiores  Latinos,  Grmcos,  Syros  et  Bahylonios  (1655). 
TLo  second  of  these  works  expresses  those  irenical  views  on  the 
«ul>jcct  of  ordination  which  recommended  Morinus  to  Urban  VIII. 
The  liteiarj  correspondence  of  Moiinus  appeared  in  1682  under 
the  titlt  of  Andquitalcs  Ecclesia  Orientalia  (edited  by  R,  Simon). 

The  chief  fame  of  llorinus,  however,  now  rests  on  his  Biblical 
and  critical  labours.  By  his  cdiiio  princcps  of  the  Samaritan  Penta- 
teuch and  Targum,  in  the  Palis  Polyglott,  he  gave  the  first  impulse 
in  Em  ope  to  the  study  of  this  dialect,  which  he  acquired  without 
a  teacher  (framing  a  grammar  for  himself)  by  the  study  of  ilSS. 
then  newly  brought  to  Europe.  Not  unnaturally  he  formed  a  very 
exaggerated  view  of  the  value  of  the  Samaritan  tradition  of  the  text, 
exalting  it  above  the  tradition  of  the  Jews  {Exercilationes  in  utruTn- 
que  Samarilanorum  fentatcuclutm,  1631).  A  similar  tone  of  ex- 
aggerated depreciation  of  the  Hebrew  text,  coloured,  as  has  been 
remarked  above,  by  polemical  bias  against  Protestantism,  mars  his 
greatest  work,  the  posthumous  Excvcitationes  hiblicss  de  Hcbraici 
Orseciqne  texiiia  sinceritate  (1660),  in  which,  following  in  the  foot- 
steps of  Cappellus,  but  with  incomparably  greater  learning,  he  brings 
irrefragable  arguments  against  the  then  current  theory  of  the 
absolute  integrity  of  the  Hebrew  text  of  the  Old  Testament,  and 
the  antiquity  of  the  vowel  points.  The  second  part  of  this  work 
is  still  valued  as  a  copious  storehouse  of  materials  for  the  hiatory 
of  the  Hebrew  text  collected  by  the  most  self-denying  labour — 
t)iei3  ingraiiis,  as  he  said  himself. 

MORLAIX,  the  chief  town  of  an  arrondissement  in  the 
department  of  Finistfere,  France,  lies  350  miles  west  of 
Paris  on  the  railway  from  Paris  to  Brest,  and  at  the  con- 
fluence of  two  small  streams,  7  miles  distant  from  the  sea. 
Its  port  has  13  feet  of  water  at  ordinary  and  23  feet  at 
spring  tides.  The  entrance  of  the  roadstead  is  defended 
by  the  Chateau  du  Taureau,  which  stands  on  a  rock  in  the 
sea,  and  was  built  in  1512  to  protect  the  town  from  the 
English.  Morlaix  still  contains  a  considerable  number  of 
curious  wooden  houses  of  the  15th,  16th,  and  17th  centuries; 
tut  the  most  striking  piece  of  architecture  in  the  town  is 
"the  gigantic  two-storied  viaduct  of  the  railway  from  Paris 
to  Brest,  931  feet  long  and  207  feet  above  the  quays. 
The  old  church  of  the  Dominicans  is  now  occupied  by  the 
town  library.  The  hospital  has  beds  for  500  patients, 
and  can  accommodate  300  female  lunatics  besides.  A 
tobacco-factory,  employing  400  men  and  700  women,  is 
the  principal  industrial  establishment ;  and  there  are  also 
€xtensive  paper-mills,  a  considerable  flax-mill,  canvas-fac- 
tories, foundries,  and  saw-mills.  A  considerable  trade  is 
carried  on  in  grain,  yarn,  canvas,  leather,  tallow,  wax,  and 
horses;  and  a  large  quantity  of  butter,  cattle,  and  vegetables 
is  exported  from  Roscoff,  a  village  in  the  neighbourhood, 
which  is  also  known  for  its  sea-bathing  and  its  zoological 
station.     The  population  of  Morlaix  was  15,183  in  1876. 

Judging  by  the  numerous  coins  found  on  the  spot,  the  site  of 
ilorlaix  was  probably  occupied  in  the  time  of  the  Romans.  The 
founts  of  Leon  held  the  lordship  in  the  12th  century,  but  the 
dukes  of  Brittany  disputed  pos.sessiou  with  them,  and  in  1187  Henry 
II.  of  England,  guardian  .of  Arthur  of  Brittany,  made  himself  master 
of  the  town  after  a  siege  of  several  weeks.  During  the  War  of  the 
Hundred  Years  Morlaix  was  again  captured  and  recaptured  by  the 
French  and  the  English,  and  pillaged  by  the  latter  in  1522.  Queen 
Jlary  of  Scotland,  on  her  way  to  be  married  to  the  Dauphin,  made 
Bolcnin  entry  into  Jlorlaix  in  1548.  And  finally,  the  town  having 
joined  the  League,  the  castle  was  taken  by  storm  in  tho  name  of 
Henry  IV.  in  1594. 


MORLAND.  Geoege  (1763-1804),  animal  and  subject 
painter,  was  bom  in  London  on  the  26th  of  June  1763.  He 
came  of  a  race  of  artists.  His  father,  a  painter,  mezzotint- 
engraver,  and  picture-dealer,  gave  him  a  caTefuI  art-training, 
and  at  sin  exceptionally  early  age  he  produced  works  of 
wonderful  promise.  At  sixteen  he  exhibited  sketches  at 
the  Tloyal  Academy,  and  even  before  this  his  productions 
found  ready  purchasers,  and  some  of  them  had  been 
engraved.  But  already  the  taste  for  dissipation,  which 
was  stronger  in  Morland  than  even  his  love  for  art,  had 
begun  to  manifest  itself,  and  at  seventeen  he  escaped  from 
the  over-strict  discipline  of  his  father's  house,  and  began 
a  career  of  reckless  prodigality  which  has  hardly  a  parallel 
in  art-biography,  gathering  round  him  an  entourage  of  the 
most  abandoned  associates,  and  supporting  himself  by  tho 
sale  of  the  pictures^rustic  subjects  and  scenes  from  low 
life — which  he  threw  off  with  unexampled  rapidity.  About 
1786  there  appeared  to  be  some  prospect  of  amendment. 
He  went  to  reside  at  Kensal  Green,  came  under  the  influ- 
ence of  better  companions,  and  married  a  beautiful  and 
virtuous  girl,  a  sister  of  James  Ward  the  animal-painter 
and  William  Ward  the  engraver.  The  subjects  which 
Morland  painted  during  this  period  reflect  the  change  in 
his  way  of  life.  The  Idle  and  Industrious  Mechanic, 
and  Letitia  or  Seduction,  moralities  in  the  style  of 
Hogarth,  were  engraved  and  became  exceedingly  popular. 
But  soon  the  force  of  old  habit  asserted  itself,  the  desire 
for  freedom  and  lawlessness  returned  to  the  artist  with 
redoubled  violence,  and  he  again  drifted  into  a  career  of 
riot  and  intemperance.  The  means  of  dissipation  were 
not  wanting ;  the  dealers  were  eager  for  his  productions ; 
indeed,  so  greatly  were  they  esteemed  that  skilled  copyists 
were  employed  to  make  many  transcripts  fr(Jm  the  pictures 
on  which  he  was  at  work,  which  were  sold  as  originals  to 
an  vmsuspecting  public.  The  finest  of  Morland's  subjects 
date  from  1790  to  1792.  In  1791  was  painted  the  Inside 
of  a  Stable,  now  in  the  National  Gallery,  probably  the 
artist's  masterpiece.  In  spite  of  his  popularity  and  his 
industry  his  affairs  became  inextricably  embarrassed.  For 
a  trme  he  eluded  the  bailiffs  with  singular  dexterity,  but 
in  TTovember  1799  he  was  arrested.  Obtaining  the  Rules 
of  the  Bench,  he  took  a  house  ivithin  bounds,  and  con- 
tinued to  practise  both  his  art  and  his  debauchery.  He 
was  released  under  the  Insolvent  Act  of  1802,  but  hia 
health  was  ruined  and  he  was  speedily  stricken  with  palsy. 
Partially  recovering,  he  continued  to  paint,  but  before  long 
he  was  again  arrested  for  debt,  and  died  in  a  sponging- 
house  in  Eyre  Street,  Coldbath  Fields,  on  the  29th  of 
October  1804.  His  wife  survived  him  only  some  three 
days,  and  they  were  buried  in  one  grave. 

The  most  characteristic  works  of  Morland  are  those  which  deal 
with  rustic  and  homely  life.  They  show  much  direct  and  instinct- 
ive feeling  for  nature,  and  admirable  executive  skill,  but  they  have 
no  elevation  of  subject,  no  gi-eat  beauty  of  colour  or  truth  of  atmo- 
sphere. They  sufler  from  the  haste  in  which  the  artist  habitually 
worked.  Many  of  them  have  been  admirably  mezzotinted  by  J. 
R.  Smith  and  his  pupils,  William  Ward  and  John  Young,  Par- 
ticulare  of  Morland's  life  will  be  found  in  the  biogl-aphies  by  J. 
Hasscll  (1804),  G.  Dawe  (1807),  and  Blagton  (1806),  and  in  Memoirs 
of  a  Picture,  by  W.  Collins,  1805. 

MORMONS,  or  The  Church  of  Jesus  Christ  of  Latter- 
Day  Saints,  are  a  religious  sect  founded  by  Joseph  Smith 
at  ilanchester.  New  York,  in  1 830,  and  for  the  last  thirty- 
six  years  settled  in  Salt  Lake  City,  Territory  of  Utah, 
United  States.  Smith  was  born  23d  December  1805  at 
Sharon,  Windsor  county,  Vermont,  fron,  which  place  ten 
years  later  his  parents,  a  poor,  ignorani,  thriftless,  and 
not  too  honest  couple,  removed  to  New  li'  ork,  where  they 
settled  on  a  small  farm  near  Palmyra,  Wayne  county 
(then  Ontario).  Four  years  later,  in  180)9,  they  removed 
to  Manchester,  sotofe  6  miles  off;  and  it  ^^ai  at  the  latter 
place  when  fifteen  years  old  that  Joseph  6t,san  to  have] 
XVL  -r.i04 


826 


MORMONS 


his  alleged  visions,  in  one  of  which  on  the  night  of  2l8t 
Beptember  1823  the  angel  Moroni  appeared  to  him  three 
times,  and  told  him  that  the  Bible  of  the  Western  Continent, 
the  supplement  to  the  Now  Testament,  waa  buried  in  a 
certain  spot  near  Manchester.  Thither,  four  years  later 
and  after  due  disciplinary  probation.  Smith  went,  and  had 
delivered  into  his  charge  by  an  angel  of  the  Lord  a  stone 
hox,  in  which  was  a  volume,  6  inches  thick,  made  of  thin  gold 
plates  8  inches  by  7,  and  fastened  together  by  three  gold 
rings.  The  plates  were  covered  with  small  writing  in  the 
"  reformed  Egyptian  "  tongue,  and  were  accompanied  by  a 
pair  of  supernatural  spectacles,  consisting  of  two  crystals 
Bet  in  a  silver  bow,  and  called  "  Urira  and  Thummim ; " 
by  aid  of  these  the  mystic  characters  could  be  read. 
Being  himself  unable  to  read  or  write  fluently.  Smith 
employed  as  amanuensis  one  Oliver  Cowdery,  to  whom, 
from  behind  a  curtain,  he  dictated  a  translation,  which, 
"with  the  aid  of  a  farmer,  Martin  Harris,  who  had  more 
money  than  Avit,  was  printed  and  published  in  1830  under 
the  title  of  Th'e  Book  of  Mormon^  and  accompanied  by  the 
Bwom  statement  of  Oliver  Cowdery,  David  Whitmer,  and 
Martin  Harris  that  an  angel  of  God  had  shown  them  the 
plates  of  which  the  book  was  a  translation.  This  testi- 
mony all  three,  on  renouncing  Mormonism  some  years 
later,  denounced  as  false ;  but  meanwhile  it  helped  Smith 
to  impose  on  the  credulous,  particularly  in  the  absence  of 
the  gold  plates  themselves,  which  suddenly  and  mysteri- 
ously disappeared.  The  Booh  of  Mormon,  in  which  Joseph 
Smith  was  declared  to  be  Grod's  "  prophet,"  with  all  power 
and  entitled  to  all  obedience,  professes  to  give  the  history 
of  America  from  its  first  settlement  by  a  colony  of  refugees 
from  among  the  crowd  dispersed  by  the  confusion  of  tongues 
at  the  Tower  of  Babel  down  to  the  year  5  a.d.  These  settlers 
having  in  course  of  time  destroyed  one  another,  nothing 
of  importance  occurred  until  600  B.C.,  when  Lehi,  his  ivife, 
and  four  sons,  with  ten  friends,  all  from  Jerusalem,  landed 
on  the  coast  of  Chili.  All  went  well  until  the  death  of 
Lehi,  when  the  divine  appointment  to  the  leadership  of 
Nephi,  the  youngest  son,  roused  the  resentment  of  his 
elder  brothers,  who  were  in  consequence  condemned  to 
have  dark  skins  and  to  be  an  idle  mischievous  race, — hence 
the  North-American  Indians.  Between  the  Nephites  and 
the  bad  Hebrews  a  fierce  war  was  maintained  for  centuries, 
until  finally,  in  spite  of  divine  intervention  in  the  person 
of  the  crucified  Christ,  the  Nephites  fell  away  from  the 
true  faith,  and  in  384  a.d.  were  nearly  annihilated  by 
their  dark-skinned  foes  in  a  battle  at  the  hill  of  Cumorah, 
in  Ontario  county.  New  York.  Among  the  handful  that 
escaped  were  Mormon  and  his  son  Moroni,  the  former  of 
whom  collected  the  sLxteen  books  of  records,  kept  by  suc- 
cessive kings  and  priests,  into  one  volume,  which  on  his 
death  was  supplemented  by  his  son  ■(vith  some  personal 
reminiscences  and  by  him  buried  in  the  hill  of  Cumorah, — 
he  being  divinely  assured  that  the  book  would  one  day  be 
discovered  by  God's  chosen  prophet.  This  is  Smith's 
account  of  the  book  ;  but  in  reality  it  was  written  in  1812 
as  an  historical  romance  by  one  Solomon  Spalding,  a  crack- 
brained  preacher  ;  and  the  MS.  falling  into  the  hands  of  an 
unscrupulous  compositor,  Sidney  Rigdon,  was  copied  by  him, 
and  subsequently  given  to  Joseph  Smith.  Armed  with 
this  book  and  witl>  self-assumed  divine  authority,  the  latter 
Foon  began  to  attract  followers.  On  0th  April  1830  the 
fir:-t  coftference  of  the  new  sect,  called  by  their  neighbours 
Mormons,  but  by  themselves  subsequently  Latter-Day 
Saints  of  Jesus  Christ,  was  held  at  Fayette,  Seneca  county. 
New  York,  and  in  the  same  year  another  revelation  was 
received  by  Smith,  proclaiming  him  "  seer,  translator, 
prophet,  apostle  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  elder  of  .the  church." 
Smith  now  began  to  baptize ;  but,  his  character,  which 
was  none  of  the  best,  being  too  well  kno'mi  in  Fayette,  he 


found  it  convenient  to  remove  with  his  followers,  now 
thirty  in  nvmiber,  to  Kirtland,  Ohio,  which  was  to  be  ■ 
the  seat  of  the  New  Jerusalem.  Here  he  had  another 
revelation,  directing  the  saints  to  consecrate  all  their  pro- 
perty to  God  and  to  start  a  bank.  This  being  done  and 
Smith  appointed  president  of  the  bank,  the  country  was 
soon  flooded  with  worthless  notes,  which  fact,  added  to 
other  grievances,  so  enraged  the  neighbouring  Christian 
settlers  that  on  the  night  of  22d  May  1832  a  number  of 
them  dragged  Smith  and  Rigdon  from  their  beds  and 
tarred  and  feathered  them.  One  year  later,  the  church 
was  fairly  organized,  with  three  presidents.  Smith,  Rigdon, 
and  Frederick  G.  Williams,  who  were  styled  the  first 
presidency,  and  entrusted  with  the  keys  of  Ihe  latot 
kingdom.  About  this  time  the  licentiousness  of  Smith 
might  have  led  to  the  dissolution  of  the  church  but  for  the 
accession  of  Brigham  Young,  a  Vermont  painter  and  glazier, 
thirty  years  old,  who  turned  up  in  Kirtland  in  1 832,  and  was 
immediately  ordained  elder.  Yoimg's  indomitaVie  will,  per- 
suasive eloquence,  executive  abUity,  shrewdness,  and  zeal 
soon  made  their  influence  felt,  and,  when  a  further  step  W3,s 
taken  in  1835  towards  the  organization  of  a  hierarchy  by 
the  institution  of  the  quorum  of  the  "  twelve  apostles,"  who 
were  sent  out  as  proselytizing  missionaries  among  the  "  gen- 
tiles," Young  was  ordained  one  of  the  "  twelve  "  and  d>j- 
spatched  to  preach  throughout  the  eastern  States.  In  18c  j 
a  large  temple  was  consecrated  in  Kirtland,  and  in  the  follow- 
ing year  Orson  Hyde  and  Heber  C.  Kimball  were  sent  off  as 
missionaries  to  England,  where,  among  the  labouring  masses 
in  Manchester,  Liverpool,  Birmingham,  Leeds,  Glasgow, 
and  the  mining  districts  of  South  Wales  they  achieved  a 
remarkable  success.  Early  in  1838  the  Kirtland  bank 
failed,  and  Smith  and  Rigdon  fled  to  Caldwell  county, 
Missouri,  where  a  large  body  of  the  saints,  after  having 
been  driven  successively  from  Jackson  and  Clay  countie."!, 
had  taken  refuge  and  flourished.  Smith's  troubles,  how- 
ever, continued  to  increase.  His  gross  profligacy  had 
repelled  many  of  his  leading  supporters  and  bred  internal 
dissensions,  whOe  from  the  outside  the  brethren  were 
harassed  and  tireatened  by  the  steadily  growing  hostility 
of  the  native  Missourians.  To  counteract  the  efforts  of  his  . 
enemies,  a  secret  society  was  organized  in  Smith's  favour 
in  October  1838,  called  the  Danites,  with  the  avowed 
purpose  of  supporting  Smith  at  all  hazards,  of  upholding 
the  authority  of  his  revelation  and  decrees  as  superior  to 
the  laws  of  the  land,  and  of  helping  him  to  get  possession, 
first  of  the  State,  then  of  the  United  States,  and  ultimately 
of  the  world.  To  such  a  height  did  the  inner  dissensions 
and  the  conflicts  %rith  the  "gentiles"  grow  that  they  assumed 
the  proportions  of  a  civil  war,  and  necessitated  the  caUing 
out  of  the  State  militia.  Defying  the  legal  officers.  Smith 
fortified  the  town  and  armed  the  saints,  but  finally  had  to 
succumb  to  superior  numbers.  Smith  and  Rigdon  were 
arre-sted  and  imprisoned  on  a  charge  of  treason,  murder, 
and  felony,  and  their  followers  to  the  number  of  15,000 
crossed  over  into  Illinois  and  settled  near  Commerce,  Han- 
cock county.  Here  they  were  shortly  afterwards  rejoined  by 
Smith,  who  succeeded  in  escaping  from  prison,  and,  having 
obtained  a  charter,  they  founded  the  city  of  Nauvoo.  Such 
were  the  powers  granted  them  by  this  charter  as  to  render 
the  city  practically  independent  of  the  State  Government, 
and  to  give  Smith  all  but  unlimited  civil  power.  He 
organized  a  military  body  called  the  Nauvoo  legion,  of 
which  he  constituted  himself  commander  with  the  title  of 
lieutenant-general,  while  he  was  also  president  of  the 
church  and  mayor  of  the  city.  On  6th  April  1841  the 
foundations  of  the  new  temple  were  laid,  and  the  city 
continued  to  grow  rajfldly  in  prosperity  and  size.  But 
Smith's  vices  were  beginning  to  bear  fruit.  Some  years 
previously  he  had  prevailed  on  several  women  to  cohabit 


MORMONS 


827 


with  bim,  and  in  order  to  pacify  his  lavfol  wife  and  silence 
the  objections  of  the  saints  he  had  a  revelation  on  12th 
July  1843  expressly  establishing  and  approving  polygamy. 
The  proclamation  of  the  new  doctrine  excited  widespread 
indignation,  which  found  special  expression  in  the  pages 
of  the  Expositor,  a  newspaper  published  by  an  old  friend 
of  Smith,  one  Dr  Foster.  Smith  at  once  caused  the  Ex- 
positor printing-office  to  be  razed  and  Foster  expelled,  on 
which  the  latter  procured  a  warrant  for  the  arrest  of  Smith, 
his  brother  Hyrum,  and  sixteen  others.  Smith  resisted ; 
the  militia  was  called  out ;  the  Mormons  armed  themselves ; 
and  a  civil  war  seemed  imminent,  when  the  governor  of 
the  State  persuaded  Smith  to  surrender  and  stand  his  trial. 
Accordingly,  on  27th  June  1844  he  and  Hyrum  were 
imprisoned  in  Carthage  jail ;  but  that  same  night  a  mob 
broke  into  the  prison  and  shot  the  two  men  dead.  This 
shooting  was  the  most  fortunate  thing  that  had  ever 
happened  to  the  Mormon  cause,  investing  the  murdered 
president  with  the  halo  of  martyrdom,  and  efifacLng  public 
recollection  of  his  vices  in  the  lustre  of  a  glorious  death. 
Of  the  confusion  that  followed  Smith's  "taking  off  "Brigham 
Voung  profited  by  procuring  his  own  election  to  the  pre- 
sidency by  the  council  of  the  "  twelve  apostles," — a  position 
for  which  his  splendid  executive  abilities  well  fitted  him, 
as  subsequent  events  abimdantly  proved.  The  following 
year  \vitnessed  what  appeared  to  be  the  culmination  of 
their  misfortunes.  The  legislature  of  Illinois  repealed 
the  charter  of  Nauvoo,  and  so  critical  did  the  situation 
become  that  the  leaders  resolved  to  emigrate  imme- 
diately, and  preparations  were  begun  for  9,  general  exodus 
westv/ard.  Early  in  1846  a  large  number  of  the  body 
met  at  Council  Bluffs,  Iowa,  and  those  who  had  stayed 
behind  soon  found  cause  to  regret  that  they  too  had 
not  left  Nauvoo,  as  in  the  September  of  the  same  year 
that  city  was  cannonaded,  and  the  Mormons  were  driven 
out.  Meanwhile  pioneers  had  been  despatched  to  the 
Great  Salt  Lake  valley,  Utah,  and,  their  report  proving 
favouiable,  a  large  body  of  emigrants  was  marched  ^vith 
military  discipline  across  the  wilderness  to  the  valley, 
where  they  immediately  proceeded  to  found  Salt  Lake  City, 
and  where  on  24th  July  1847  tboy  were  joined  by  their 
chief,  Brigham  Young.  In  the  May  following  the  main 
body  of  the  saints  set  out  to  rejoin  their  brethren,  and  in 
the  autumn  of  that  year  reached  Salt  Lake  City.  Large 
tracts  of  land  were  at  once  put  under  cultivation,  a  great 
city  sprang  up  as  by  magic,  and  the  untiring  industry, 
energy,  and  zeal  of  the  emigrants  turned  a  barren  wilder- 
ness into  a  fertile  and  blooming  garden.  An  emigration 
fund  was  organized,  missionaries  were  .■sent  out,  and  soon 
settlers  began  to  pour  in  from  all  quarters  of  the  globi, 
particularly  from  Great  Britain,  Sweden  and  Norway,  and 
in  less  numbers  from  Germany,  Switzerland,  and  France. 
Strangely  enough,  and  the  fact  deserves  emphasis,  Ireland 
has  furnished  few  if  any  recruits  to  the  ra,use  of  Mormon- 
ism.  In  March  1849  a  convention  was  held  at  Salt  Lake 
City,  and  a  State  was  organized  under  the  name  of  Deseret, 
meaning  "  the  land  of  the  honey-bee."  A  legislature  was 
also  elected,  and  a  constitution  framed,  which  was  sent  on 
to  Washington.  This  Congress  refused  to  recognize,  and 
by  way  of  compromise  for  declining  to  admit  the  proposed 
new  State  into  the  Union  President  Fillmore  in  1850 
organized  the  country  occupied  by  the  Mormons  into  the 
Territory  of  Utah,  with  Brigham  Young  as  governor. 
District  judges  were  also  appointed  by  the  Federal  Govern- 
ment ;  but  in  1851,  a  few  months  after  their  appointment, 
they  wera  forced  to  leave  by  the  aggressive  tactics  of 
Young.  Such  bold  defiance  of  the  Federal  Government 
could  not  be  ignored ;  Brigham  was  suspended  from  the 
governorship,  and  Colonel  Steptoe  of  the  United  States 
army  appointed  in  his  stead.     The  new  governor,  backed 


by  a  battalion  of  soldiers,  arrived  in  Utah  in  August  1854 ; 
but  so  strong  was  the  opposition  which  he  met  with  that 
he  dared  not  assume  oflice,  and  was  forced  to  content  him- 
self with  merely  wintering  in  Salt  Lake  City,  after  which 
he  vrithdrew  his  troops  to  California.  Nor  did  the  other 
civil  officers  appointed  by  the  United  States  Government 
at  the  same  time  show  any  bolder  front.  In  February 
1856  a  band  of  armed  Mormons  broke  into  the  court- 
room of  the  United  States  district  judge,  and  forced  Judge 
Drummond  to  adjourn  his  court  sine  die.  His  surrender 
precipitated  the  flight  of  the  other  civil  officers,  and  with 
the  sole  exception  of  the  United  States  Indian  agent  they 
withdrew  from  Salt  Lake  City.  These  facts  led  President 
Buchanan  to  appoint  a  new  governor  in  the  person  of 
Alfred  Gumming,  the  superintendent  of  Indian  affairs  on 
the  upper  Missouri,  who  in  1857  went  to  Utah,  accom- 
panied by  Judge  Eckels  of  Indiana  as  chief  justice,  and 
by  a  force  of  2500  soldiers.  Enraged  by  this  aggressive 
action,  Brigham  Young  boldly  called  the  saints  to  arms. 
In  September  the  United  States  army  reached  Utah,  but 
on  5th  and  6th  October  a  band  of  mounted  Mormons 
destroyed  a  number  of  its  supply  trains,  and  a  few  days 
later  cut  off  800  oxen  from  its  rear  and  drove  them  into 
Salt  Lake  City.  The  result  was  that  the  United  States 
army,  now  commanded  by  Colonel  A.  S.  Johnston,  was 
compelled — it  being  now  mid-November— to  go  into  winter 
quarters  at  Black's  Forks,  near  Fort  Bridger.  In  the 
game  year  a  party  of  Mormons  and  Indians,  instigated 
and  led  by  a  Mormon  bishop  named  John  D.  Lee,  attacked 
a  train  of  150  non-Mormon  emigrants  at  Mountain  Mea- 
dows, near  Utah,  and  massacred  every  souL  Governor 
Gumming  at  once  declared  the  Territory  in  a  state  of 
rebellion;  but  in  the  spring  of  1858,  through  the  inter- 
vention of  Thomas  L.  Kane  of  Pennsylvania,  armed  with 
letters  of  authority  from  President  Buchanan,  the  Mormons 
were  induced  to  submit  to  the  Federal  authoritj-,  and 
accepted  a  free  offer  of  pardon  made  to  them  by  the  United 
States  Government  as  the  condition  of  their  submission. 
Matters  being  thus  settled,  the  Federal  troops  encamped 
on  the  western  shore  of  Lake  Utah,  some  40  miles  from 
Salt  Lake  City,  where  they  remained  until  withdrawn  from 
the  Territory  in  1860.  On  the  close  of  the  American  Civil 
War  a  Federal  governor  was  again  appointed,  and  in  1871 
polygamy  was  declared  to  be  a  criminal  offence,  anci  Brigham 
Young  was  arrested.  This  action,  however,  on  the  part  of 
the  United  States  Government  was  merely  spasmodic,  and 
the  Mormons  continued  to  practise  polygamy,  and  to  increase 
in  wealth  and  numbers  until  29th  August  1877,  when 
Brigham  Young  died,  leaving  a  fortune  of  82,000,000 
(£400,000)to  17  wives  and  56  children.  He  was  succeeded 
in  office  by  John  Taylor,  an  Englishman,  although  the 
actual  leadership  fell  to  George  Q.  Cannon,  "first  coun- 
sellor "  to  the  president,  and  one  of  the  ablest  men  in  the 
sect.  The  year  1877  was  otherwise  signalized  in  Mormon 
history  by  the  trial,  conviction,  and  execution  of  John  D. 
Lee  for  the  Mountain  Valley  massacre  of  1857.  Of  late 
years  the  question  of  Mormonism  has  largely  occupied 
public  attention.  In  1873  Mr  Frelinghuysen  introduced 
a  bill  severely  censiuing  polygamy,  and  declaring  that  the 
wives  of  polygamists  could  claim  relief  by  aotion  for  divorce. 
In  1874  the  committee  of  the  House  of  Representatives 
reported  a  bill  which  reduced  Utah  to  the  position  of  a 
province,  placing  the  control  of  affairs  in  the  hands  of 
Federal  officials,  and  practically  abolishing  polygamy.  In 
the  same  year  George  Q.  Cannon  was  elected  a  delegate 
from  Utah,  and  though  his  election  was  contested  it  was 
confirmed  by  the  House  of  Representatives.  This  decision, 
however,  was  accompanied  by  the  passing  of  a  resolution 
by  a  vote  of  127  to  51,  appointing  a  committee  of  investiga- 
tion into  Delegate  Cannon's  alleged  polygamy, — he  having, 


•328 


M  O  R  — M  O  R 


it  was  asserted,  four  wives.  Later  in  the  same  year  tbe 
Utah  Judiciary  Bill,  attacking  the  very  foundation  of 
Mormonism,  passed  the  House  in  spite  of  the  eloquent 
opposition  of  Cannon.  Other  steps  in  the  same  direction 
have  since  been  taken,  and  bills  passed,  having  for  their 
object  the  extirpation  of  polygamy,  but  all  without  imme- 
diate and  practical  effect.  It  is,  however,  a  question  of 
time  merely ;  polygamy  is  doomed.  The  secessioti,  chiefly 
because  of  his  opposition  to  the  practice,  of  Brigham 
Young's  son,  a  Christian  preacher,  and  of  a  large  body 
of  other  anti-polygamists  who  claim  to  be  the  true  Latter- 
Day  Saints,  represents  not  an  individual  opinion  but  the 
deep-rooted  conviction  of  a  great  party,  and  the  day  is  not 
far  distant  when  the  Mormons  who  acknowledge  John 
Taylor  as  chief  prophet  must  consent  to  lop  off  polygamy 
or  cease  to  exist  as  a  corporate  body  of  the  United  States. 
Already  there  are  not  wanting  signs  of  approaching  dis- 
solution, of  which  perhaps  the  most  significant  is  the  con- 
ference of  the  "Reorganized  Church  of  Jesus  Christ  of  Latter- 
Day  Saints,"  held  on  6th  April  1883,  at  Kirtland,  Lake 
county,  Ohio.  This  sect  originated  in  1851,  seven  years 
after  the  death  of  Joseph  Smith,  when  several  ofiicers  of  the 
church  met  and  claimed  to  have  received  a  revelation  from 
God,  directing  them  to  repudiate  Brigham  Young,  as  not 
being  the  divinely-appointed  and  legitimate  successor  of 
Joseph  Smith,  and  as  being  the  promulgator  of  such  false 
doctrines  as  polygamy,  Adam-God  worship,  and  the  right  to 
shed  the  blood  of  apostates.  Nothing  of  special  importance 
occurred,  however,  until  1860,  when  Joseph  Smith  jun., 
the  eldest  son  of  the  founder  of  the  faith,  became  identi- 
fied with  the  Reorganized  Church  as  its  president.  Since 
then  the  seceders  have  prosecuted  missionary  work  through- 
out the  United  States,  Great  Britain,  Canada,  Scandinavia, 
Switzerland,  Australia,  and  the  Society  Islands,  until  their 
communicants  are  said  to  pumber  over  27,000.  Their 
headquarters  are  at  Piano,  Illinois,  to  which  place  they 
removed  from  Lamoni,  Iowa,  in  1881.  The  Reorganized 
Church  holds  that  the  legitimate  successor  to  Joseph  Smith 
was  his  eldest  son,  that  the  allegation  that  Smith  intro- 
duced polygamy  on  the  strength  of  divine  revelation  was 
an  invention  of  Brigham  Young,  that  the  Utah  Church 
has  departed  grievously  from  the  faith  and  practices  laid 
down  in  the  Book  of  Mormon  and  subsequent  revelations 
to  Joseph  Smith,  and  that  the  Reorganized  Church  is  the 
only  true  and  lawful  continuation  of,  and  successor  to,  the 
original  church,  and  as  such  is  legally  entitled  to  all  that 
chtirch's  property  and  rights.  And  it  was  to  celebrate  the 
decision  of  the  United  States  Court  of  Ohio  confirming 
this  last  claim,  and  vesting  in  them  the  right  to  the  temple 
consecrated  in  Kirtland,  Ohio,  in  1836,  and  for  nearly  forty 
years  disused  owing  to  litigation,  that  the  Reorganized 
Church  met  in  that  temple  on  the  6th  of  April  1883. 

Returning  to  the  main  body,  it  may  be  added  that  the 
population  of  Utah  is  147,000,  of  whom  123,000  are 
Mormons ;  but  as  the  saints  are  scattered  over  the  globe 
it  is  difficult  to  arrive  at  a  just  estimate  of  their  complete 
numerical  strength.  In  Idaho,  Arizona,  Washington, 
Colorado,  Montana,  and  Wyoming  they  have  of  late  years 
made  great  progress,  and  their  number  in  the  United 
States  outside  of  Utah  cannot  fall  much  under  27,000. 
In  Europe  they  have  also  many  adherents,  and  a  careful 
study,  based  on  recent  official  statistics,  would  place  their 
entire  number  at  213,000. 

Qovemmeni, — At  the  head  of  the  body  is  a  president,  who  pos- 
MBSes  Bupreme  authority,  supported  by  two  couuBcllors.  Tncso 
three  are  supposed  to  be  the  successors  of  Peter,  James,  and  John, 
and  constitute  what  ia known  as  the  "first  presidency."  Then  comes 
the  "  patriarch,"  whose  chief  duty  is  to  bless  and  lay  on  hands,  and 
aft«r  him  the  "  twelve  apostles,"  forminj^  a  travelling  high  council, 
and  receiving  a  salaiy  of  $1500  a  year  each.  Of  these  the  president 
ia  a  officio  one,  ard  endowed  with  authority  equal  to  the  other 


eleven.  Their  dnties  are  important  They  ordain  all  other  cfficera, 
elders,  priests,  teachers,  and  deacons,  lead  all  religious  meetings, 
and  administer  the  rites  of  baptism  and  sacrament.  Fourth  coma 
the  seven  presidents  of  the  "seventies,"  each  body  comprising  seventy 
elders  ;  there  are  eighty  seventies  in  Utah,  each  of  which  has  seven 
presidents,  and  every  seven  one  president.  These  seventies  maks 
annual  reports,  and  are  the  missionaries  and  propagandists  of  the 
body.  Fifth  come  the  "high  priesti,"  whose  chief  duty  is  to  officiate 
in  all  the  offices  of  the  church  in  the  absence  of  any  higher  autho- 
rities. After  them  comes  the  presiding  bishop,  who  superintends 
the  collection  of  tithes,  which  amount  to  ?1, 100, 000  annually.  The 
church  is  mado  up  of  23  stakes,  each  having  a  president,  and  ia 
divided  into  wards,  which  are  subdivided  into  districts,  each  of 
which  has  a  certain  number  of  teachers,  a  meeting-house,  Sunday 
school,  day  school,  and  dramatic,  debating,  and  literary  societies. 

Dodrine, — The  Mormons  no  longer  claim  to  be  a  Christian  sect, 
any  more  than  do  the  Mohammedans.  A  system  of  polytheism  has 
been  grafted  on  the  original  creed,  according  to  which  there  are 
grades  among  the  gods,  the  place  of  Supreme  Kuler  of  all  being 
taken  by  the  primeval  Adam  of  Genesis,  who  is  the  deity  highest 
in  spiritual  rank,  while  Christ,  Mohammed,  Joseph  Smith,  and 
Brigham  Young  also  partake  of  divinity.  The  business  of  these 
deities  is  the  propagation  of  souls  to  people  bodies  begotten  on 
earth,  and  the  sexual  relation  permeates  every  portion  of  the  creed 
as  thoroughly  as  it  did  that  of  ancient  India  or  Egypt.  The  saints 
on  leaving  this  world  are  deified,  and  their  glory  is  in  proportion 
to  the  number  of  their  wives  and  children, — hence,  the  necessity 
and  justification  of  polygamy,  and  the  practice  of  having  many 
wives  sealed  to  one  saint.  Their  distinguishing  points  of  faith 
are  : — religiously,  a  belief  in  a  continual  ^vine  revelation  through 
the  inspired  medium  of  the  prophet  at  the  head  of  the  church  ; 
morally,  polygamy,  though  this  is  expressly  condemned  in  the 
Book  of  Mormon^  and  was  grafted  on  the  original  faith  by  Smith  ; 
and,  socially,  a  complete  hierarchical  organization.  They  believe  in 
the  Bible  as  supplemented  by  the  Book  of  Momion  and  the  Book  of 
Doctri-iie  ;  in  the  gift  of  prophecy,  miracles,  and  casting  out  devils  ; 
in  the-imminent  approach  of  the  end  of  the  world  ;  m  their  own 
identity  with  the  apocalyptic  saints  who  shall  reign  with  Christ  in  a 
temporal  kingdom,  either  in  Missoiui  or  Utah  ;  in  the  literal 
resurrection  of  the  body  ;  in  absolute  liberty  of  private  judgment 
in  religious  matters ;  and  in  the  salvation  of  a  man  only  if  he  believes 
in  Christ's  atonement,  repents,  is  baptized  by  immersion  by  a. 
Christ-appointed  apostle,  and  receives  the  laying  on  of  hands  for 
the  gift  of  the  Holy  Ghost  by  duly  authorized  apostles.  Amon^ 
their  minor  niles  as  laid  down  in  A  Word  of  Wisdom,  supposed  t.i 
have  been  revealed  to  Joseph  Smith,  27th  February  1833,  are  these 
recommendarions : — that  it  is  not  good  to  drink  wine  or  strong  drink, 
except  at  the  Lord's  Supper  (and  even  then  it  should  be  home-made 
grape-wine),  or  to  use  hot  dnnks  or  tobacco, — the  former  being  meant 
for  the  washing  of  the  body,  and  the  latter  for  the  healing  of  bruises 
and  sick  cattle  ;  man's  proper  food  is  herbs  and  fruit,  that  fi>r 
beasts  and  fowls,  grain  ;  and,  except  in  winter  and  in  case  of  famine 
and  severe  cold,  flesh  should  not  be  eaten  by  man.  Infant  baptisri 
is  also  condemned,  but  the  children  of -the  saints  who  have  reached 
their  eighth  year  should  be  baptized.  The  deceased,  also,  can  be 
baptized  by  proxy,  and  in  this  way  "Washington,  Franklin,  and 
others  have  been  vicariously  baptized  into  the  church. 

See  BooS:  o/Afofmon (1879) ;  Boojto/Doc(nnc  and  Covenan(s(1870);  John  Hyde 
Jon.,  Jlfomonism,  iU  Leadsn  and  Dnigns  (1S57):  B.  G  Ferris,  VIoh  and  IH 
Mormons  (1854);  N.  W.  Green,  ilomonxsm  (1870):  T.  B.  H.  Stenhouse,  Fock^f 
Mountain  Sainls(lSTi);  H.  Mayhcw,  TAe  Jl/oraoiu ;  Elder  Jolin  Jaques,  Cii«- 
'chtnt  /or  Children  (1877)  ;  John  W.  QDnnison,  ilomwns,  or  Lalttr-Day  Saintt 
(18J.2):  Hepworth  Dixon,  Spiritual  Wives  (1868);  J.  H.  Beadle.  Ll/e  in  Utah 
(1870).  (J.  FK.) 

MORNAY,  Philippk  db  (1549-1623),  Seigneur  du  Ples- 
sis-Marly,  very  generally  known  as  Mornay  Du  Plessis  or 
Du  Plessis-Momay,  one  of  the  most  distinguished  members 
of  the  Protestant  party  in  France,  was  bom  at  Buhy  in 
Normandy  on  5th  November  1549.  As  a  younger  son 
be  was  destined  for  the  church,  and  with  this  view  was 
sent  to  the  OUige  de  Lisieux  in  Paris,  but  in'  his  eleventh 
year,  along  with  the  rest  of  his  family,  he  abandoned 
Roman  Catholicism,  continuing,  however,  with  zeal  and 
success  his  studies  not  only  in  classical  and  general  litera- 
ture but  also  in  theology.  In  the  autumn  of  1567,  on  the 
outbreak  of  the  second  religious  war,  he  joined  the  army 
of  Cond^,  but  waS  prevented  from  taking  an  active  part 
in  the  campaign  by  a  fall  from  his  horse,  which  broke  his 
leg.  In  the  following  year  he  went  abroad,  and,  after 
spending  the  winter  at  Heidelberg,  travelled  extensively 
in  Italy,  Germany,  the  Low  Countries,  and  England, 
learning  the  languages  and  acquiring  the  friendship  of 
many  of  the  distinguished  men  of  all  these  countries.     In 


M  O  R— M  O  R 


829 


June  1672  he  returned  to  France,  and  had  begun  to  enter 
npon  a  diplomatic  career  (his  earliest  extant  "  m^moire." 
laid  by  Coligny  before  Charles  IX.,  had  reference  to  the 
duty  of  France  to  support  the  Low  Countries  in  their 
struggle  for  independence)  when  the  St  Bartholomew  mas- 
sacre, from  which  he  escaped  with  difficulty,  compelled 
him  to  take  refuge  across  the  Channel.  There  he  rendered 
valuable  services  to  William  of  Orange,  and  also  to  the 
duke  of  Alen^on-Anjou,  as  a  serai-official  political  agent. 
Ketuming  to  France  at  the  instance  of  La  Noue  towards 
the  end  of  1573,  he  took  part  with  various  success  in 
numerous  military  enterprises,  and  was  made  prisoner  at 
Dormans  in  157  5  (10th  October),  but  not  having  been  re- 
cognized he  got  oft"  for  a  small  ransom.  Shortly  afterwards 
he  married  Charlotte  Arbaleste  at  Sedan,  and  at  her  re- 
quest wrote  as  a  bridal  present  the  Disamrs  de  la  Vie  et 
de  la  Mort  (1576),  which  has  been  so  often  reprinted  and 
translated.  In  1577  Henry  of  Navarre  made  him  a  mem- 
ber of  his  council  and  sent  him  on  a  diplomatic  mission  to 
England,  and  during  this  visit,  which  lasted  more  than  a 
year,  he  found  time  among  his  other  pressing  occupations 
to  prepare  for  the  press  his  Traite  de  r£glisi  oh  Von  traite 
des  principaies  qvestions  qui  ont  He  mues  sur  ce  point  en 
nostre  temps  (1578),  which  at  once  became  popular.  From 
July  1578  till  his  return  to  France  in  1582  he  was  chiefly 
in  the  Low  Countries,  engaged  in  public  business,  and 
VJuring  this  interval  he  wrote  and  published  a  considerable 
work  in  apologetical  theology  {Traite  de  la  write  de  la 
religion  chretienne  contre  lef  Alhies,  £picuriens,  Payens, 
Juifs,  etc.,  1581).  With  the  death  of  the  dvike  of  Anjou 
in  1584,  by  which  Henry  of  Navarre  waa  brought  within 
sight  of  the  throne  of  France,  the  period  of  Momay's 
greatest  political  activity  began ;  his  importance  in  the 
Huguenot  counseb  was  further  increased  in  1588  by  the 
death  of  the  prince  of  Cond^,  to  whose  influence  he  practi- 
cally succeeded.  In  April  1589  he  was  re^varded  for  the 
reconciliation  of  the  two  Henries  with  the  governorship  of 
Saumur,  and  he  took  active  part  in  many  of  the  military 
operations  that  followed  the  assassination  of  Henry  III. 
in  the  following  August.  He  was  present  at  the  siege  of 
Dieppe,  fought  by  the  side  of  Henry  IV.  at  Ivry,  and  was 
one  of  the  besiegers  of  Rouen  in  1591-92,  until  sent  on  a 
mission  to  the  court  of  Elizabeth.  A  crisis  in  Ms  political 
career  was  marked  by  Henry's  abjuration  of  Protest- 
antism in  July  1593,  which  gradually  led  to  Momay's 
withdrawal  from  the  court.  In  this  year  it  was  that  he 
founded  the  Protestant  academy  or  university  of  Saumur, 
which  had  a  distinguished  history  until  its  suppression  by 
Louis  XrV.  in  1683.  In  1598  he  published  a  work  on 
which  he  had  long  been  engaged,  entitled  De  Vinstitution, 
usage,  et  doctrine  du  saint  sacrement  de  PEucharistie  en 
V£glise  ancienne.  It  having  reached  his  ears  that  Cardinal 
Du  Perron  had  alleged  that  of  the  (thousands  of)  citations 
in  thii  controversial  work  he  could  point  out  five  hundred 
that  were  falsified  or  misunderstood,  he  challenged  his 
assailant  to  a  public  discussion.  This  was  at  last  arranged 
for  by  the  good  offices  of  the  king,  and  took  place  at 
Fontainebleau  on  4th  May  1600.  Only  nine  passages 
were  discussed,  but  in  each  case  the  decision,  one  is  not 
surprised  in  the  circumstances  to  learn,  went  against  the 
Protestant.  Mornay,  from  whom  every  indication  of  the 
particular  passages  to  be  impugned  had  been  persistently 
■nithheld,  was  forced  by  supervening  illness  to  withdraw. 
Only  once  again  did  he  appear  at  court,  in  1607.  He 
continued,  however,  to  give  his  party  the  benefit  of  his 
counsel  and  active  support  to  the  end  of  his  long  and  busy 
life.  His  last  work,  entitled  Mystire  d'iniquite,  c'est  it 
dire,  FAistoire  de  la  Papaute,  appeared  in  1611.  In  1618 
he  was  chosen  a  deputy  to  represent  the  French  Protest- 
anU  at  the  synod  of  Dort.   ■Prohibited  by  Louis  yTTT  | 


from  personally  attending,  he  nevertheless  contributed 
materially  to  the  deliberations  of  that  assembly  by  written 
communications.  In  1621  he  was  deprived  of  his  governor- 
ship ;  and  his  death  took  place  at  La  For^t-sur-Sivre  on 
11th  November  1623. 

Two  volumes  of  iUmoires,  from  1572  to  1589,  appeared  at  L« 
For^t  in  1624,  and  a  continuation,  in  two  volumes,  at  Amsterdam 
in  1652  ;  a  more  complete  edition  (Mimoircs.  corrcspondnnus,  ct  vie) 
in  twelve  volumes,  8vo,  was  published  at  Paris  in  1624-25.  The 
greater  number  of  hia  works  were  translated  into  English  during 
his  lifetime. 

MORNT,  Chaelis  Auouste  Loms  Joseph,  Duo  de 
(1811-1865),  was  the  natural  son  of  Hortense  Beauharnais, 
queen  of  Holland,  and  of  the  comte  de  Flahaut,  a  leading 
dandy  of  the  period,  and  was  thus  brother  to  Napoleon 
in.  The  secret  of  his  birth  (23d  October  1811)  was  care- 
fully kept ;  he  was  acknowledged  as  son  by  the  comte  de 
Morny  for  ■&  consideration,  and  was  brought  up  by  his 
paternal  grandmother,  Madame  de  Souza,  a  writer  of 
society  novels,  and  a  woman  of  great  wit  and  high  breeding. 
As  a  boy  of  nineteen  he  was  declared  after  the  revolution 
of  1830  a  hero  ot  July,  and  was  entered  at  the  staff  college. 
In  1832  he  was  gazetted  suVlieutenaut,  and  served  in 
Algeria  as  aide-de-camp  to  General  Oudinot ;  he  was  pre- 
sent at  Mascara  and  Constantine,  and  was  made  a  chevalier 
of  the  Legion  of  Honour.  In  1838  he  returned  to  Paris, 
and  began  his  career  as  dandy  and  speculator.  In  the 
first  capacity  he  set  the  fashions  both  of  dress  and  manners 
to  the  young  men  of  Paris,  and  conceived  the  idea  of  the 
modem  society  journal,  and  in  the  second  established  a 
manufactory  of  beetroot  sugar  at  Clermont-Ferrand.  This 
last  idea  brought  about  his  election  for  the  department  of 
the  Puy-de-D6me.  In  the  chamber  he  voted  consistently 
with  the  ministers.  The  republic  of  1848  marked  the 
crisis  in  his  fortunes,  and  by  1851  all  his  speculations  had 
failed,  and  aU  his  property  was  sold.  In  desperation  he 
determined  to  play  a  part  in  politics,  and  was  the  heart 
sind  soul  of  the  coup  cTetat  of  December  1851.  The  success 
of  the  coup  cTetai  was  certain,  owing  to  the  fear  of  the 
extreme  republicans  entertained  by  the  great  majority  of 
the  nation,  and  all  that  was  needed  was  a  head  for  intrigue 
and  an  utter  absence  of  scruples  to  shed  innocent  blood. 
Morny  and  St  Arnaud  fulfilled  these  requisites.  Moray 
was  on  the  day  of  the  coup  d'etat  made  minister  of  the 
interior,  but  he  had  no  taste  for  the  drudgery  of  adminis- 
tration, and  in  January  1852  found  an  excuse  for  resigning 
on  the  question  of  the  property  of  the  Orleanist  princes. 
The  empire  established,  he  was  again  able  to  begin  specu- 
lating, and  used  both  the  money  of  the  state  and  his 
influence  with  his  brother  for  the  success  of  his  schemes. 
He  had  been  in  1852  re-elected  deputy  for  Clermont- 
Ferrand,  and  waa  in  1854  elected  president  of  the  corps 
legislatif,  an  office  which  he  held  for  the  rest  of  his  life. 
This  office  in  every  way  suited  him ;  he  had  large  pay, 
and  resided  in  a  magnificent  official  residence,  where  he 
produced  little  plays  to  admiring  audiences.  The  work 
was  not  hard,  being  chiefly  to  maintain  the  Government 
majority  in  a  good  humour  by  sumptuous  entertainments, 
and  to  win  over  the  Liberals  by  the  same  tactics.  He  still 
speculated  in  railways,  pictures,  mines,  and  even  in  a  new 
watering-place,  Deauville,  and,  being  absolutely  unscru- 
pulous and  venal,  amassed  an  immense  fortune  in  spite 
of  the  utmost  extravagance.  In  1856  he  was  special 
ambassador  at  the  coronation  of  Czar  Alexander  EL,  when 
he  spent  immense  sums,  and  married  a  wealthy  Russian, 
Princess  Troubetzkoy.  In  1862  he  was  created  a  duke, 
and  in  1865,  after  continuing  to  the  last  his  career  of  dissi- 
pation, died  of  sheer  anaemia  from  the  measures  he  took 
to  keep  himself  fit  for  yet  further  excesses. 

OC  the  due  de  Morny  little  good  can  be  said  either  aa  a  statesman 
or  a  "">",     He  looked  upon  everything  from  a  purely  selfish  point 


830 


M  O  R  — M  O  R 


fWet. 


of  view,  at^X  would  not  have  denied  it ;  but  lie  was  shrewd  enough 
to  perceive  that  the  empiro  rested  on  the  prestige  it  maintained  for 
France  not  only  in  war  but  in  fashion,  and  in  assisting  the  empress 
to  make  Paris  the  centre  of  fasliion  for  the  whole  civilized  world  he 
knew  he  was  not  only  pleasing  himself  but  doing  a  service  to  tlic 
empire.  He  was  a  thorough  man  of  the  world,  and  was  witty  as 
such,  but  the  wit  does  not  appear  at  its  brightest  in  his  plays, 
published  under  the  name  of  Saint-Remy,  of  which  perhaps  the 
most  readable  is  M.  Choujlcui-y  rcstcrn  chcz  lui.  He  had  great 
influence  over  tlie  emperor,  but  could  lay  no  claim  to  personal 
fidelity,  as  could  his  less  able  but  equally  unscrupulous  colleague, 
M.  de  Persiguy. 

.For  his  life  consult  H.  CastiUe.  .V.  lic  Monty,  1S59,  and  De  la  Gueronuicre, 
A(udcSf(jw7J(ra(W/)o/i7(7ifes(lS5Li);nIsoAlton-Shee's.fl/<7JW)ires(lS6S-G9).  His  char- 
acter is  adiiiiiably  alcetcliej  as  tlie  due  de  Mora  ia  A.  Daudcfs  novel  Le  Kabah. 

MORO,  Attoxi  (c.  1512-1581),  otherwise  known  as 
SiK  Anthoxy  More,  an  eminent  portrait-painter,  was  born 
at  Utreclit,  in  1512  according  to  some,  but  in  1525 
according  to  Van  JIander  in  his  Ilei  Leven  der  Schild<rs. 
He  studied  his  art  under  Jan  Schoorel ;  and  after  making 
a  professional  visit  to  Italy  he  commenced  to  paint  por- 
traits in  the  style  of  Hans  Holbein.  His  rise  to  eminence 
was  rapid.  In  1552  he  was  invited  to  Madrid  by  tlie 
emperor  Charles  V.  to  execute  a  likeness  of  Prince  Philip. 
Two  years  afterwards  he  was  in  London  painting  the 
portrait  of  Queen  Mary.  For  this  picture  an  annual 
salary  and,  as  some  suppose,  tlie  honour  of  knighthood 
were  conferred  upon  him.  He  was  also  employed  to 
sketch  the  likenesses  of  several  of  the  English  nobility. 
On  the  death  of  Mary  in  1558  Moro  returned  to  Spain, 
and  lived  there  for  two  years  in  great  honour  with  Philip 
II.,  executing,  in  addition  to  portraits,  several  copies  after 
Titian.  Having  compromised  himself  with  the  Inquisition, 
he  repaired  to  the  Netherlands  and  was  received  into  the 
service  of  the  duke  of  Alva.  His  death  took  place  at 
Antwerp  about  1581.  Among  his  figure-pictures  Van 
•Mander  specifies  the  Circumcision  of  Christ,  executed 
for  Antwerp  cathedral,  as  one  of  the  most  notable.  His 
portraits  are  full  of  individuality,  and  characterized  by 
firm  and  solid  rendering  of  flesh.  Several  admirable 
examples  are  preserved  in  Madrid  ;  among  the  rest  the 
portrait  of  Queen  JIary  of  England,  .which  has  been 
excellently  etched  by  Milius  {L'Art,  8th  December  1878). 
"  Moro's  style,"  says  Stanley  in  his  Dutch  and  Flemish 
Painters,  "so  much  resembles  that  of  Holbein  as  to  fre- 
quently create  a  doubt  to  ^vhich  of  them  a  portrait  is  to 
be  attributed ;  but  he  is  not  so  clear  and  delicate  in  his 
colouring  (perhaps  from  having  painted  so  much  in  Spain) 
as  that  master." 

MOROCCO,  or  JI.^ROcco,  the  terra  (corrupted  from  the 
name  of  the  city  JNIarrAkush)  used  in  English  to  designate 
the  Maghrib  al-AksA  or  extreme  west  of  the  Arabs,  is  the 
country  at  the  north-western  corner  of  the  African  continent, 
with  the  Jlediterranean  on  the  north  and  the  Atlantic  on  the 
west.  Its  landward  limits  can  only  be  vaguely  defined.  The 
eastern  frontier  towards  Algeria,  determined  by  the  treaty 
of  1844,  is  a  purely  conventional  line  starting  from  the 
mouth  of  a  small  stream  called  the  Skis  and  running  across 
country  in  a  general  south -south -east  direction.  The 
southern  boundaries  expand  and  contract  according  to  the 
power  and  activity  of  the  central  authorities.  Behm  and 
Wagner  (1882),  who  include  Tafilelt,  Kenatsa,  Figig,  Twat, 
Gurara,  Tidikelt,  the  plateau  of  Tedmaid,  etc..  estimate  the 
total  area  of  the  sultanate  at  305,548  square  miles ;  and  this, 
which  is  about  twice  the  size  of  Algeria,  or  five  times  that 
ef  England  and  Wales,  may  be  taken  as  a  maximum.  The 
allegiance  of  many  of  the  tribes  within  this  compass  is 
que3tiono,ble  and  intermittent.  Morocco  is  still  the  portion 
of  Northern  Africa  about  which  European  information  is 
most  defective,  and  the  ordinary  maps  are  composed  to  a 
large  extent  of  most  unscientific  material  eked  out  by 
probabilities  and  conjecture.  Since  the  middle  of  the 
present  centmy  a  good  deal  has  been  done  in  >he  way  of 


exploration,  mainly  in  the  lowlands  and  steppes  sloping 
towards  the  Atlantic — the  country  of  the  great  historical 
cities  of  Tangiers,  Fez,  Meknes  (Mequin,cz),  and  Morocco  ; 
but  even  there  what  lies  but  a  fejv  miles  east  or  west  of 
some  track  traversed  by  Europeans  for  centuries  remains 
matter  of  question. 

Since  the  publication  of  Arlett's  survey  from  Cape 
Spartel  to  Cape  Bojador  (1840-44)  and  of  Vincendon- 
Dumoulin  and  Kerhallet's  surveys  from  the  Strait  of  Gib- 
raltar to  the  Algerian  frontier  (1853-57)  the  seaward  aspect 
of  Morocco  has  been  known  in  detail.  To  the  Mediter- 
ranean it  presents  for  a  distance  of  about  200  miles  the 
rugged  profile  of  the  Rif  hills  (still  unexplored),  which 
generally  end  in  lines  of  cliff  broken  at  intervals  by  narrow 
sweeps  of  sandy  beach,'  but  occasionally  open  up  into  beau- 
tiful and  fertile  valleys,  with  abundant  evidence  of  human 
occupancy  and  tillage.  About  6  miles  west  of  the  Skisj 
lies  the  mouth  of  the  great  river  Muliiya ;  and  10  miles 
farther 'on,  opposite  Cape  del  Agua  (Ras  Sidi  Beshir),  is 
a  group  of  dry  and  barren  islands  known  as  the  Zafarines, 
which  form  the  best  roadstead  on  the  Rif  coast.^  Be- 
tween Point  Quiviana  and  Melilla  runs  a  low  and  sandy 
shore  in  front  of  a  great  salt  marsh,  the  Puerto  Nuevo  of 
the  Spaniards.  Melilla  (Malila)  is  a  fortified  town,  held 
by  the  Spaniards  since  1653,  built  on  a  rocky  peninsula 
and  connected  by  lines  of  rampart  with  Fort  Rosario  on 
the  heights  behind.  Near  the  village  of  Azaiien  is  a  wide 
open  shore  with  the  only  sand-dunes  on  all  this  coast. 
The  fine  semicircular  bay  of  Alhucemas  is  the  seaward 
end  of  one  of  the  most  beautiful  valleys  in  the  Rif,  clothed 
with  verdure  and  dotted  with  hamlets.  A  Spanish  presidio 
occupies  one  of  the  larger  of  the  Alhucemas  islands  (Al- 
Mazemma),  which  are  identified  with  the  Ad  Sex  Insulas 
of  the  itineraries.  Another  Spanish  fortress  crowns  the 
rocky  island  of  San  Antonio  or  Penon  de  Velez ;  and  in 
the  valley  oflF  which  it  lies  stood  a  town  known  to  the 
Spaniards  as  Velez  de  Gomera,  to  the  Arabs  as  BAdis,  which 
continued  to  be  a  place  of  importance  in  the  16th  centmy. 
The  so-called  Bay  of  Tetuan  (Tettiwin) — the  town  is  just 
visible  from  the  sea — is  little  more  than  the  straight  stretch 
of  coast  between  Cape  Mazari  on  the  south  and  Cape  Negro 
or  Negrete  on  the  north  ;  but  the  prominence  of  these  two 
headlands  gives  it  an  appearance  of  depth.  From  Cape 
Negi-o  northwards  to  Ceuta  the  most  notable  object  on 
the  horizon  is  the  summit  of  Jebel  Jliisil,  which,  though 
situated  on  the  Strait  of  Gibraltar,  towers  above  the  inter- 
vening hills.  Ceuta  (Sebta),  the  most  important  and 
flourishing  of  the  Spanish  settlements  in  Jlorocco,  occupies 
a  peninsula, — the  head,  Mt.  Acho,  standing  about  1  miles 
out  to  sea,  and  the  neck  being  low  and  narrow.  It  marks 
the  eastern  end  of  the  strait.  Westwards,  the  first  point 
of  interest  is  again  Jebel  MusA,  the  Elephas  of  Strabo,  and 
the  Apes'  Hill  of  Englisli  charts ;  the  truncated  top  is 
usually  hid  in  clouds.  About  20  miles  farther  along  the 
coast  lies  the  Bay  of  Tangiers  (Tanja),  by  far  the  finest 
harbour  in  Morocco.  West  from  Tangiers  runs  the  Jebel 
Kebir  (880  feet  at  its  highest),  the  seaward  extremity  of 
which  forms  the  celebrated  Cape  Spattel,  the  north-west 
angle  of  the  African  continent,  known  to  the  ancients  as 
Ampelusia  or  Cotes  Promontorium.  The  lighthouse,  built 
in  18G4  at  the  cost  of  the  sultan  of  Jlorocco,  and  main- 
tained at  the  joint  expense  of  England,  France,  Italy^  and 
Spain,  is  the  only  one  on  tlie  western  coast. 

The  Atlantic  coast  of  Morocco  is  remarkable  for  its 
regxilarity  and  sameness ;  not  a  single  gulf  or  noteworthy 
estuary  occurs  throughout  its  whole  length  ;   the  capes 


^  The  uaiiie  is  derived  from  the  Arab  tri^-c  of  the  Beui  Ja'far,  *vlio 
settled  on  the  neighbouring  mainland  at  \'''.  conouest.  Since  ISJS 
the  islands  have  belonged  to  Spain.  They  fi:  i.'«u'-ified  with  the  Ai» 
Tres  Insulas  of  the  Roman  itineraries. 


MOROCCO 


831 


ore  few  and  for  the  most  part  feebly  maxked.  South- 
ward from  Cape  Spartel  the  shore  sinks  rapidly  till  it  is 
within  a  few  feet  of  the  searleveL  In  the  low  cUflf  which 
it  forms  about  4J  miles  from  the  lighthouse  there  is  a 
great  (juarry,  which  from  remote  antiquity  has  yielded  the 
hand-mills  used  in  the  Tsingiers  district.  A  stretch  of 
low  marshy  ground  along  the  Tahaddart — the  estuary  of 
the  W4di  Keblr  (W.  Muharhar)  and  W.  al-Khamib — agrees 
with  ScyWs  Gulf  of  Cotes  (Tissot).  Three  or  four  miles 
farther  south  lie  the  ruins  of  the  town  of  Nebrosh,  built  by 
Moors  from  Andalusia ;  and  4  or  5  miles  more  bring  us  to 
AkUA  or  Arzilla,  the  ancient,  Colonia  Julia  Constantia  Zilis 
or  Zeles.  Since  its  bombardmeut  by  the  Austrians  in  1829 
it  has  been  a  wretched  little  place,  with  a  mixed  Moorish 
and  Jewish  population  of  about  1200.^  For  the  next  16 
miles,  between  AtOA  and  Larash  or  El-Araish  (q.v.)  the 
coast  has  a  tolerably  bold  background  of  liills,  Jebel  Sarsar 
near  Fez  forming  an  important  landmark  for  the  latter  town, 
which,  with  its  Phoenieian,  Koman,  and  mediaeval  remains, 
is  historically  one  of  the  most  interesting  places  in  Morocco. 
A  line  of  reddish  cliffs  about  300  feet  high  runs  south 
for  about  10  miles  from  the  W.  Aulkos,  at  whose  mouth 
the  town  is  built ;  then  the  coast  sinks  till  it  reaches  MilU 
Bd  Selham,  an  eminence  220  feet  high.  Between  MiilA 
Bii  Selham  (often  wrongly  called  Old  Mamura  or  Marmore) 
and  a  similar  height  crowned  by  the  tomb  of  Sidi  "Abd 
Allah  Jelill  lies  the  outlet  of  the  Blue  Lake  (Marja  Zarkd), 
10  or  12  miles  long.  Farther  south,  and  separated  from 
the  sea  by  an  unbroken  line  of  rounded  hills  (230-260 
feet),  is  the  much  more  extensive  lagoon  of  Ras  al-Dura, 
which  in  the  dry  season  becomes  a  series  of  marshy  meres, 
but  in  the  rainy  season  fills  up  and  discharges  into  the 
Sebii.  Eastward  it  is  connected  with  the  Marjat  al-Gharb, 
fed  by  the  W.  Meda.  On  the  south  side  of  the  outlet  of 
the  Sebil  lies  Ma'miira,  probably  foimded  by  'Abd  al- 
Mumen,  and  originally  named  Mahdfya,  after  the  Almohade 
Mahdl  Twenty  miles  farther  is  the  mouth  of  the  Bii 
Rakrak,  with  its  cluster  of  interesting  towns :  Sallee  (SaUt) 
on  the  north  side,  long  famous  for  its  piracies  and  still  one 
of  the  most  fanatical  places  in  the  empire,  and  on  the  south 
side  New  Sallee  (Habit)  with  its  conspicuous  tower  of 
Hasan,  and  Sheila  (Sella  of  Leo  Africanus)  with  its  inter- 
esting ruins.  Onward  for  100  miles  to  Point  Azammtir 
and  the  mouth  of  the  Umm  Rabf  river  a  line  of  hills  skirts 
the  sea ;  the  shore  is  for  the  most  part  low,  and,  with  the 
exception  of  capes  at  Fadila  (a  small  village)  and  DAr  al- 
Baid&  or  Casa  Blanca,  it  runs  in  a  straight  line  west-south- 
west. Casa  Blanca,  the  ancient  Anfd,  once  a  flourishing 
port,,  was  ruined  by  the  Portuguese  (1468)  in  revenge  for 
ita  piracies.  It  is  now  a  place  of  4000  inhabitants,  and 
has  a  thriving  export  trade  in  maize,  beans,  and  wool, 
and  a  European  colony  of  about  100  persons.  Azammur 
(that  is,  in  Berber,  "  The  Olives,"  viz.,  of  the  Sheikh  Bii 
Shuaib),  with  1000  inhabitants  dependent  on  the  shebbel 
fisheries  in  the  river,  stands  on  an  eminence  about  IJ 
miles  from  the  sea  on  the  south  side  of  the  Umm  Rabi'. 
The  bay  of  Mazagan  (MAzlghan),  a  few  mOes  to  the  south, 
curves  westward  with  a  boldness  of  sweep  unusual  on  this 
coast.  The  town  of  Mazagan  was  founded  by  the  Portu- 
guese in  1506,  and  held  by  them  till  1769.^  About  8 
miles  to  the  south  and  less  than  a  mile  inland  lie  the 
extensive  ruins  of  Tit,  a  town  which  proved  a  thorn  in 
the  side  of  the  people  of  Mazagan  till  they  sallied  forth 


'  The  absurd  story  that  about  the  9th  century  it  was  an  English 
possession  has  its  root  in  the  visits  of  the  Normans  to  this  quarter. 
The  modem  town  sprang  from  a  fortress  built  to  protect  the  coast 
against  them  (Dozy,  Recherches,  3d  ed.,  ii.  264  sq.). 

'  The  Portuguese  settlers,  who  had  to  leave  it  when  Don  Jos^  decided 
on  surrendering  this  last  stronghold  of  his  conntryin  Morocco,  were  after- 
vaids  sent  to  Brazil,  where  they  founded  Villa  Nova  de  Mazagan. 


and  destroyed  it.  At  Capo  Blanc  (so  called  from  its 
white  cliffs)  the  coast,  which  bulged  out  at  Cape  Mazagan, 
again  bends  east  to  resume  much  the  same  general 
direction  for  55  miles  to  Cape  Can  tin.  On  this  stretch 
the  only  point  of  interest  is  Walidiya,  formerly  Al-Ghait ; 
the  excellent  harbour  praised  by  Edrisi  is  formed  by  an 
extensive  lagoon,  and  M.  Tissot  thinks  that  by  a  little 
dredging  the  place  would  again  become  the  safest  ship- 
ping station  on  the  whole  Morocco  seaboard.^  Beyond 
Cape  Cantin  (300  feet  high)  the  coast  becomes  bolder  and 
more  iiTegular,  especially  after  the  mouth  of  the  Tenslft  is 
passed.  About  18  miles  farther  lies  Saffi  (Asfi),  "by  far 
the  most  picturesque  spot  on  the  west  coast,"  with  the  high 
walls  and  square  towers  of  its  Portuguese  fortifications 
shown  to  advantage  by  the  ruggedness  of  the  site.  South 
of  MooADOE(2.y.),and  onwards  beyond  the  limits  of  Morocco, 
the  coast,  becoming  ever  more  and  more  inaccessible  and 
dangerous  in  winter,  is  emphatically  known  as  the  Iron 
Coast.  From  Cape  Sim  or  Ossim  (Ras  Tagriwalt),  10  miles 
south  of  Mogador,  the  direction  is  due  south  to  Cape  Gir 
(Igir  Ufrani),-  the  termination  of  Jebel  Ida  u  Tanan  (Rabbi 
Mardoch^e),  the  last  spur  of  the  Atlas  proper.  Rounding 
this  headland  we  reach  Agadir  (Agadir  'n  Igir),  the  Santa 
Cruz  Major  or  Santa  Cruz  de  Berberia  of  the  Spaniards, 
formerly  knovni  a?  the  Gate  of  the  Soudan.*  It  is  a  little 
town  with  white  battlements  three-quarters  of  a  mile  in 
circumference,  on  a  steep  eminence  600  feet  high.  In 
the  15th  century  it  was  seized  by  the  Portuguese,  and 
Don  Manuel  caused  it  to  be  fortified ;  but  in  1536  it 
was  captxured  by  Muley  (Maul4i)  Ahmed  al-Hasan.  Its 
merchants  were  removed'to  Mogador  in  1773.  At  the 
mouth  of  the  Siis  Leo  places  three  little  towns  called  Messa 
(Mdssa),  with  a  mosque  popularly  reputed  the  scene  of 
Jonah's  restoration  to  terra  firma.  The  port  of  this  name,' 
regularly  visited  by  the  Genoese  traders  in  the  1 6th  century, 
who  exported  skins,  gum,  wax,  gold,  and  indigo,  is  no  doubt 
at  the  mouth  of  the  W.  Mdssa,  20  miles  farther  south.' 
Ifni,  situated  in  29°  23'  N.  lat.,  and  Sidi  Worzek,  the  Cape 
Non '  of  the  Portuguese,  are  the  only  points  calling  for 
notice  till  the  better  known  Cape  Nun  is  reached,  which  lies 
5  or  6  miles  north  of  the  W.  D4r'a.  With  the  Der'a  the 
Sahara  may  be  said  to  begin. 

On  most  maps  the  interior  of  Morocco  is  represented  as 
extremely  mountainous  j  but,  while  it  is  traversed  from  ea|t 
to  west  by  more  than  one  strongly-defined  range,"the  greater 
part  of  the  surface  is  really  occupied  by  undulating  steppe- 
Uke  tracts  diversified  by  low  hills.  The  backbone  of  ^e 
coimtry  is  the  Great  Atlas  (Daran  of  the  Berbers).^  At 
its  western  extremity  the  range  averages  "from  4000  to 
5000  feet  in  height ;  after  a  slight  falling  off  for  a  few 
miles  it  rises  till  it  attains  an  elevation  of  10,000  feet; 
beyond  the  pass  (about  60  miles  from  the  sea)  which  leads 
from  Morocco  to  T.ir>idant  the  siunmits  seem  to  be  between 
11,000  and  11,500  feet;  about  40  miles  farther  east  there 
is  a  second  pass  at  an  altitude  of  about  7000  feet ;  and 
beyond  that  the  main  ridge  continues  30  miles  at  a  height 
of  about  12,000  feet,  with  a  few  peaks  reaching  to  13,000 
or  13,500  feet.     Snow  lies  on  some  of  the  summits  as  late 


'  Bull,  de  la  Sac  de  Ologr.,  Paris,  1875. 

*  This  must  not  be  confomided  with  Santa  Cruz  de  Mar  Pequefia, 
a  post  established  in  1476  somewhere  on  this  coast  by  Herrera,  lord 
of  the  Canary  Islands,  and  in  modem  times  the  subject  of  much  geo- 
graphical disputation.  After  obtaining  permission  to  reoccupy  the 
site  the  Spanish  Government  was  unable  to  identify  it. 

'  See  Valentin  Ferdin.and,  Bcschreibung  West  Afrika^s  (Uem.  of 
the  Acad,  of  Munich,  3d  Class,  pt  viii. ;. 

•  Ya'kiiM,  Descr.  al-Maghribi,  p.  126  ;  Etst  des  Scrbhes,  ii.  279. 
'  No,  Non,  Nor,  Naum,  Nao,  are  among  the  vaiious  readings.     It 

was  another  Cape  Kon  to  the  south  of  Cape  Bojador  which  seems  to 
have  given  rise  to  the  proverb,  Qiiem  pasar  o  cabo  de  Xao  ou  toniara, 
on  ndo.     See  Bol.  de  la  Soc.  Geogr.,  p.  316,  Madrid,  1880. 
8  Pliny  says  the  natives  called  the  Atlas  "DjTin." 


832 


MOROCCO 


as  Juue,  but  it  is  probable  that  none  of  them  retain  it 
throughout  the  year.  Taken  as  a  whole,  the  Atlas  has  a 
mean  elevation  higher  than  that  of  any  other  range  of 
equal  length  in  Europe  or  in  the  African  and  Asiatic 
countries  bordering  on  the  Mediterranean.  From  the 
lowlands  to  the  north  it  has  a  very  fine  appearance,  rising, 
as  it  seems,  in  steep  and  almost  abrupt  ascent,  though  the 
real  distance  from  foot  to  summit  is  a  slope  ot  15  miles 
(compare  the  panorama  prefixed  to  Hooker  and  Ball's 
Morocco). 

"What  is  the  culminating  pointof  the  range  is  quite  unkno^ii;  the 
Miltsin  peak  has  no  claim  to  that  distinction.  The  English  embassy 
of  1829-1830  advanced  up  the  northern  slope  only  a  little  beyond 
Tasseremut  (3534  feet),  and  Davidson  in  1836  merely  reached  the 
town,  and  then  turned  westwards.  From  Tasseremut  eastwards  the 
range  is  altogether  unexplored  for  200  miles  till  we  come  to  the 
route  followed  by  Ahmed  b.  Hasan  al-Mtuvi  (1789),  Caillie  (1827), 
and  Rohlfs  (1863).  'The  English  expedition  of  1871  (Hooker  and 
Ball,  &c. ),  besides  visiting  Tasseremut,  went  up  the  Urika  valley  to 
a  height  of  4000  feet,  up  the  Ait  Mesan  valley  to  the  Tagherot  pass 
(11,484),  and  up  the  Amsziz  valley  to  the  summit  of  Jebcl  Tezah 
(11,972  feet).  In  the  Tagherot  pass  Mr  Maw  was  the  only  one  of 
the  party  who  reached  the  waterslied  ;  but  from  Jebcl  Tezah  a  good 
view  was  obtained  southward  across  the  great  valley  of  the  Sus  to 
the  Anti-Atlas,  which  appeared  to  be  from  9000  to  10,000  feet  high. 
In  1880  Dr  Lcnz  crossed  the  range  by  the  ordinary  route  from 
lloiocco  toT.'inidant.  "  First,"  he  says,  "is  a  chain  of  comparatively 
low  and  fiat  hills  consisting  of  Cretaceous  and  Tertiary  rocks  ;  then 
follows  a  plateau  with  ranges  of  red,  probably  Triassic,  sandstone  ; 
and  finally  come  the  higher  and  steeper  peaks  of  clay  slate  with 
great  metalliferous  deposits.  The  pass  whore  the  descent  towards 
Siis  begins  is  called  Bibauan,  and  lies  4000  fee^  above  the  sea.  The 
route  down  to  '  Emnislah  '  is  steep,  difficult,  and  at  times  dangerous. " 
As  to  the  relation  of  the  An-ti-Atlas  to  the  Atlas  proper  at  its 
western  end  nothing  certain  is  known.. 

All  the  principal  rivers  of  Morocco  take  their  rise  in  the 
Atlas  mountains,  and  the  headwaters  of  the  Muliiya,  the 
Sebii,  the  Umm  Rabi',  the  Der'a,  and  the  Zlz  are  all  to 
be  placed  in  that  part  of  the  range  which  lies  between 
32°  20'  and  32°  30'  N.  lat.,  and  between  3°  30'  and  5°  W. 
long.  In  almost  every  instance  the  summer  current  is 
comparatively  feeble,  but  the  wide  beds  and  often  high 
steep  banks  are  sufficient  of  themselves  to  show  the  change 
produced  by  the  rains  of  winter  and  the  thaws  of  spring. 
The  JIuluya  (^lulucha  and-Malva  of  Pliny,  <tc.)  is  mainly 
interesting  as  the  river  which  the  French  have  long  wished 
to  make  the  western  boundary  of  Algeria.  Its  course  is 
almost  entirely  luiexplored.  About  34°  20'  N.  lat.  Captain 
Colvile  found  it  some  200  yards  wide  but  quite  shallow  ; 
al-iout  25  miles  east  of  its  source  where  it  is  crossed  by  the 
route  to  Ziz  it  is  already  a  powerful  stream  with  a  deep 
bed  cut  in  the  granite  rock,  and  shortly  afterwards  it  is. 
joined  by  the  W.  Sgimmel,  a  still  larger  affluent  (Rohlf.s). 
Of  the  lesser  sti-eanis  which  flow  into  the  Mediterranean  it 
is  enough  to  mention  the  W.  JIartil  or  Martin  (otherwise 
jW.  Bu  Sfiha,  W  lias,  W.  Jlejeksa),  which  falls  into  the 
iBay  of  Tetuan,  and  is  identified  with  the  Tamuda  of 
Pliny  and  Tlialuda  of  Ptolemy.  On  the  Atlantic  seaboard 
'north  of  the  Sebii  there  are  a  number  of  comparatively  small 
streams,  the  chief  of  which  is  the  very  winding  W.  Aulkos 
or  Lokkos,  with  several  tributaries.  If  Renou's  statement 
that  theSebu  (the  Subur  maynifictts  et  navigabilis  oi  Pliny) 
had  a  course  not  much  inferior  to  that  of  the  Seine  be 
somewhat  of  an  exaggeration,  it  may  at  least  be  compared 
to  the  Thames  in  length  and  width,  though  not  in  steadiness 
and  depth  of  current.  At  Meshra'at  al-Ksiri,  about  70 
imiles  from  its  mouth,  it  is  about  10  feet  deep  in  the  month 
'of  May  and  more  than  4C0  feet  wide  ;  and,  though  its 
Ibanks  are  21  feet  high,  extensive  inimdations  occur  from 
'time  to  time.  The  tide  ascends  as  far  as  Al-Kantara,  15 
I  miles  above  Ma'mi'ira,  and  steam  barges  with  a  small  draught 
[of  water  could  make  their  way  to  the  ford  just  mentioned, 
[and  possibly  even  as  far  as  Fez  (Trotter).  Affluents  of  the 
ISebi'i  are  W.  Mikkes  and  W.  AlRcdem  (90  miles  long). 


The  swift  and  muddy  current  of  W.  Beht  usuaIly"lose4 
itself  in  a  swami>  before  it  reaches  the  main  stream.  The 
imjjetuous  Umm  Rabi',  with  a  rocky  bed  and  many 
rapids,  is  perhaps  as  large  as  the  Sebi'i ;  but  as  there  are 
no  important  cities  in  the  country  through  which  it  flows 
its  course  is  not  so  well  known.  W.  al-Abiad,  W.  al-Akdur, 
and  W.  Tessaut  seem  to  bo  the  principal  affluents.  This- 
last  is  separated  by  about  10  miles  only  from  the  valley 
of  the  Tensfft,  the  river  which  flows  to  the  north  of  the 
city  of  Morocco ;  and,  by  the  W.  Nefis,  the  Asif  al-Mil' 
(Asif  is  Berber  for  "river"),  the  W.  Usbi,  and  other  smaller 
tributaries,  receives  the  waters  of  about  180  miles  of  the 
Atlas  range.  The  valley  between  the  Atlas  and  the  Anti- 
Atlas  is  traversed  by  the  W.  Siis,  whose  ever-flowing  stream 
is  sufficient  to  turn  the  whole  district  into  a  garden.  Th& 
MAssa  or  W.  al-Ghis  (Wholgras  of  Davidson,  Oued  Ouel 
R'as  of  Delaporte),  though  its  headwaters  drain  only  one  or 
two  of  the  lesser  valleys  at  the  south-west  end  of  the  Anti- 
Atlas,  is  "about  50  yards  from  bank  to  bank  at  the  mouth, 
with  a  depth  at  high  water  and  in  the  proper  channel  of 
something  over  a  fathom."  Farther  south  is  the  Assaka 
or  W.  al-AksA,  long  known  to  European  geographers  by  the 
name  of  W.  Nun ;  and  finally  the  famous  W.  Der'a  is 
reached,  which  in  length  of  course  exceeds  all  the  rivers  of 
Morocco,  but,  except  in  spring  when  the  snows  are  melting 
in  the  highlands,  remains  throughout  all  its  lower  reaches 
a  dry  sandy  channel,  hardly  noticed  by  the  traveller  in  the 
surrounding  desert.  In  the  upper  valleys,  on  the  contrary, 
innumerable  streams  from  the  south  side  of  the  main  chain 
of  the  Atlas,  the  W.  Dades  from  the  east,  and  tbe^Asif 
Marghen,  W.  al-Molah,  or  Warzazet  from  the  west,  flow 
through  populous  and  fertile  valleys,  and  uniting  to  form 
the  Der'a  cut  their  way  southward  through  a  gorge  in  the 
Jebel  §ogh^r,  which,  as  the  name  implies,  is  a  lower  range 
running  parallel  to  the  Atlas  proper.  For  the  next  130 
miles  the  noble  stream  holds  south-south-east,  drained  at 
every  step  by  the  irrigation  canals  which  turn  this  region 
into  a  green  oasis,  till  at  last  its  dwindling  current  bends 
westward  to  the  sebkha  (salt  marsh)  of  Debiaya.  For  a 
few  weeks  once  a  year  the  thaw-floods  fill  this  shallow  but 
extensive  basin  and  rush  onwards  to  the  Atlantic ;  but  in 
summer  it  dries  up,  and,  like  the  bed  of  the  river  for  some 
distance  below,  is  covered  with  flourishing  crops.  From 
the  south  of  the  Atlas  still  farther  east  descend  a  number 
of  other  streams,  the  W.  Ziz  (with  its  tributaries  the  W. 
Todgha  and  W.  Gheris),  the  W.  Ghir,  the  W.  Kenatsa,  &c., 
which,  after  watering  the  oases  of  Medghara,  TAfflelt 
(SijilniAsa),  Kenatsa,  ic,  lose  themselves  in  the  sands  of 
the  Sahara.^  Besides  the  lakes  and  lagoons  of  the  coast 
district  already  mentioned,  there  arc  several  others,  such  as 
the  Daya  Sidi  Ali  Mohammed,  which  Rohlfs  passed  neat 
the  summit  of  the  Atlas,  but  they  do  not  form  a  feature  of 
the  country.  The  eastern  frontier  runs  across  the  great 
Western  Shatt,  and  south  from  that  point  lies  the  extensive 
Sebkha  Tighri. 

According  to  Dr  Lcnz,  inhisgcologicalmapof  West  Africa  (1882), 
the  stretch  of  country  in  the  vicinity  of  Ceuta  and  Tetuan  is  Ju- 
r.assic  ;  modern  Tertiary  and  Eocene  rocks  cover  all  the  rest  of  the 
gro.Tt  northern  promontory  for  some  distance  south  of  AVazan,  and' 
extend  in  an  irregular  belt  from  the  ncighbouihood  of  Fez  south- 
west to  the  province  of  Abda  ;  between  these  two  areas  there  lies  a 
district  of  Cretaceous  formations  which  extends  to  the  Atlantic,  and 
skirts  the  whole  African  coast  from  Larash  as  far  south  as  Capo  Blanc 
(700  milts  south  of  the  Der'a)  ;  nearly  all  the  rest  of  the  north- 
western slope  of  the  country  is  occupied  by  alluvium.  The  west- 
ward portion  of  the  Atlas  shows  a  belt  of  Cretaceous  rocks,  a  broader 
Jurassic  belt,  and  one  still  broader  of  Red  Sandstone,  porphyrites 
and  porplnritic  tuffs  forming  the  backbone  of  the  ridge.  Fron> 
Tarrtdant  eastward  runs  a  strip  of  clay  slates,  possibly  of  Carbon- 
iferous origin,  and  from  Anti-Atlas  in  the  west  and  Figig  in  the 

'  See  Castries  on  the  "Oued  Dnii  "  in  liM.  de  la  Sx.  (it  Glogr.,. 


voL.Joa 


ceo 


PLATE   X 


! 


MOROCCO 


833 


«r,t  Dcvw.ian  rncTis  stretch  for  hondredt  of  milts  into  the  Sahara. 
Tne  plain  around  thi  city  of  Morocco  has  a  shoet-like  covering  of 
tufac«ou3  cnj^t  rising  over  hill  ajid  valley  and  following  all  the 
undulations  of  the  ground,  thu  result  probably  of  Iho  intense  heat 
<jf  the  sun  rapidly  drawing  up  water  chajgcd  with  soluble  carbonate 
of  linic  from  the  calcareous  strata,  and  drying  it  layer  by  layer  on 
the  surface  till  an  accumulation  sciiral  feet  thick  has  been  produced 
(Maw).  This  crust  is  extensively  burned  for  lime,  and  it  forms  a 
natural  strong  roof  for  the  Diataniorcs  or  underground  cellars  which 
tlie  Jloors  excavate  in  the  soft  strata  beneailu  An  euormons 
deposit  of  houlJcrs  occurs  in  the  lateral  valleys  and  along  the 
escarpment  of  the  Atlas,  and  the  opinion  that  these  are  the  pro- 
ducts of  remote  glacial  action  is  supported  by  the  existence  of  true 
moraines  in  the  api>er  part  of  the  glens.  All  along  the  west  coast 
there  are  indications  of  an  elevation  of  the  land  in  the  shape  of 
raised  beaches,  at  Tangiers  40,  at  the  south  of  Cape  Spartel  50,  at 
Mogador  60  or  70  feet  high ;  but  a  number  of  other  facta  seem  to 
show  that  at  present  a  process  of  subsidence  is  in  progress.* 

That  mineral  deposits  of  great  value  exist  in  Morocco  there  is 
Kttlo  doubt  At  Jebel  Hadid  or  the  Iron  Mountain,  the  heights 
to  the  north  of  ilogador,  old  scoriie  are  fi>4inQ.  In  the  Bern'  Madan 
hills  near  Tetuan  are  mines,  closed,  it  is  said,  by  the  sultan  'Abd 
&1-Rahmda;  but  whether  they  furnished  copper  or  lead  authorities 
dilfer.  On  the  road  to  Eenatsa,  Rohlfs  saw  lead  and  antimony 
vorked  by  the  Beni  Sithe.  Antimony  especially  seems  to  be  abun- 
dant to  the  south  of  the  Atlas  ;  Eohlfs  found  it  in  a  very  pure 
state  near  Tesna,  and  Dr  Alien  (whose  accdunt  was  not  published 
when  this  article  was  Avritten)  informed  tho  writer  that  he  saw 
spleiidid  veins  of  it  north  of  the  Der'a-  That  gold  mines  existed 
iji  Siis  was  long  su.spccted ;  Gatell  proved  it  Rock-salt  occurs  in 
the  mountains  north  of  Fez,  in  the  valley  of  the  W.  MartU,  and 
jirobably  in  Jebel  Zarhiin.  In  several  places,  as  in  tho  route  from 
Bafli  to  Morocco,  are  brino  lake^,  from  which  the  salt  is  collected 
and  exported  as  far  as  Central  Afnca. 

The  general  as^wct  of  tho  lowlands  of  Morocco  varies  «o  much 
accoi-ding  to  the  season  of  tho  year  that,  while  one  stranger  finds 
it  arid  and  sunburnt  and  monotonous,  another  is  delighted  with  the 
richness  of  its  ve;;et-vtion  and  the  bright  variety  of  its  colours. 
Ja  some  of  the  Atlas  valleys  there  is  a  wealth  of  timber,  enormous 
eouifers,  10  to  12  feet  in  girth  of  stem,  oaks,  kc.,'  but  file  greater 
part  of  the  country  has  been  cleared  of  every  vestige  of  woodland, 
and  consctjuently  depends  for  its  appearance  on  herbage,  brush- 
wood, and  the  lesser  fruit-tre*^j.  Cultivation  is  confined  to  such 
comjurativcly  narrow  limits  that  the  natural  flora  has  full  scoi)e 
for  Its  dcv«lopracnt  Cowan,  writing  more  immediately  of  the 
rountry  between  Morocco  and  Mogador,  speaks  of  "drifts  of  as- 
phodel, white  lilies,  blue  convolvuli,  white  broom  flowers,  thyme 
ind  lavender,  borage,  marigold,  purple  thistles,  colossal  daisies 
and  poppies  ;"  and  Captain  Trotter  tells  how  for  miles  the  undu- 
lating plateau  of  Kasr  Feri'iin  was  literally  covered  with  »-ild 
flowers,  whose  varied  colours,  and  tho  partiality  with  which  ea«h 
species  eonfmcd  itself  to  certain  ground,  gave  to  the  landscape  a 
brilliant  and  most  unique  appearance.  Dark-blue,  yellow,  and  red 
— iris,  marigold,  aud  poppy — occurred  in  patches  an  acre  in  size  ; 
farther  on  whole  hills  and  valleys  were  of  a  delicate  blue  tint 
from  couYolvulus  and  boi-ago.  At  times  the  travelhir's  tent  is 
pitched  on  a  carpet  of  mignonette,  at  times  on  a  carpet  of  purple 
bugloss.  In  tlio  country  of  tho  Bcnf  H.tsau  squills  are  so  abundant 
that  the  fibres  of  the  bulbs  are  used  instead  of  hair  in  making  tent- 
cloth  ;  and  in  the  north  of  ICsar  al-Kebir  the  moors  are  covered  for 
miles  with  a  beautiful  white  heathen  From  such  gorgeous  cora- 
biuatioiis  of  colour  one  can  well  imagine  that  tho  ifooit  drew  the 
inspiration  of  their  chromatic  art ;  bat  the  season  of  floral  splen- 
dour is  bri'.'f,  and  under  tho  liot  African  sun  everything  soon  sinks 
into  the  monotony  of  straw. 

Tho  botiny  of  Jlorocco  has  been  explored  by  Balansa  (1867), 
Hooker,  Rail,  and  Maw  (1871),  Roin  and  Fritscli  (1873),  Ibrahim 
Amwcriht  (a  Berber  collector,  1873-6),  the  Rabbi  llardochce  Abi 
Scrur  (1872-3) ;  and  the  results  have  been  systematieaMy  arranged' 
m  Cowou's  CoMpemiium  Fhrx  Atlnntica: :  o«  Flore  dcs  ilats  bar- 
i«)vw,,,«  (Paris,  1881,  kc.)..  From  tho  presence  of  a  largo  propor- 
tion of  nlantsof  ceutnil  and  northern  Europe  (none  of  tho  northern 
plants,  however,  Ixing  of  alpine  or  arctic  type)  and  the  absence  of 
southern  types  characteristic  of  the  sub-tropical  zone  Ball  concludes 
that  "the  mountain  flora  of  Moroeco  is  a  southern  extension  of 
the  European  tcniiKTate  flora,  with  little  or  no  admixture  of  ex- 
traneous elements,  but  so  long  isolated  from  tho  neighbouring 
regions  thaj  t  coiisideraMo  number  of  new  specific  types  have  been 
developed."'  Of  the  inilividiial  plants  none  are  more  remarkable 
than  the  ar/lr  and  the  argan.  Tho  former  (Calli/ris  quadrivalea. 
Thuja  nrtUulnOi  of  Shaw)  is  a  cjiuess-liko  tree  that  grows  on  the 
—  1- -I'iJ!.'-  ^'""x^"'  »"d  Algeria.     It  furnishes  gum  sandarach  ; 

1  >>,.■[.  .Miiurlnii  In  Rull.  ,(,  rAcnii.  h"il.  ilr  Hcljhpir.  voT 
«""  rf-  h  Soc.  Cfol.  ie  France,  vol.  Iv. ;  and  especially  Ha- 
to  Hnolicr  anfl  Ball's  .Vororeo. 

*  Rnlilh  Riijr«  larelieii,  but  there  hn  etronc  i 

•  Compare  DniJe,  "  Florutuclie  £rrorsc!li 
iSUauavafeu,  1SS2. 


1  paper  appended 

---1  to  doubt  this. 
FlorutiKhe  Errorschuns  Nord-Afrau's  "  m  Ptlermanifi 


1ft— 31 


and  its  beantifurind  enduring  timber  has  been  identified  with  the 
alerce  with  which  the  Cordova  cathedral  (mosque)  was  roofed,  and 
with  the  citron-wood  of  the  ancient  Romans.  The  argan  {Argania 
SicUroxyloTi)  is  confined  even  in  Morocco  to  a  tract  of  country  extend- 
ing only  about  150  miles  along  the  coast,  from  the  river  Tensift 
almost  to  the  river  Siis,  and  about  30  miles  in  breadth  ;  and  it  is 
found  nowhere  else  in  the  world.  A  gnarled  trunk  and  wide- 
spreading  contorted  thorny  branches  giv(i  it  a  striking  appearance. 
Large  specimens  have  a  height  of  from  20  to  30  ftct,  and  a  girth  of 
25  or  26  feet.  The  fruit,  which  ripens  between  May  and  August,  ia 
an  olire-looking  nut,  greedily  eaten  by  camels,  mules,  goats,  sheen, 
antl  homed  cattle  (bot  not  by  horses)  for  the  fake  of  the  fleshy 
pericarp,  and  crushed  by  the  natives  to  cxtr.ict  tho  oil  from  tho 
kernel.  Though  "its  strong  and  fulsome  savour"  renders  it  nauseous 
to  the  European  palate,  this  oil  ia  largely  used  in  the  cookery  ol 
southern  Morocco.  The  prickly  pear  forms  one  of  the  features 
of  the  landscape  from  the  coast  up  to  the  slopes  of  the  mountains. 
The  cork  tree,  common  in  the  time  of  AdcUson,  has  lost  ground 
enormously,  though  it  probably  forms  the  staple  of  the  mk'mita 
forest,  which  extends  for  some  20  miles  between  the  Bii  Rakrak 
and  the  Sebu.  Though  not  so  widespread  as  in  Algeria  or  some 
disti'Tcts  of  southern  Europe,  the  palmetto  is  often  locally  verj' 
abundant  Citrons,  lemons,  limes  (sweet  and  sour),  shaddocks, 
mulberries,  walnuts,  and  chestnuts  are  common  in  many  parts. 
Tetuan  is  famous  for  oranges,  Meknes  for  quinces,  Morocco  for 
pomegi-anates,  Fez  for  figs,  Tafilelt  and  Akka  for  dates,  Siis  for 
almonds,  Dukalla  for  melons,  TaMdast,  Ed.intenan,  and  Rabat  for 
grapes,  and  Tariidant  for  olives  (Cowan).  The  grapo  is  extensively 
cultivated  ;  the  Jews  manufacture  (Tude  but  palatable  wine^ 
Sugar,  once  grown  in  Sus,  to  supply  the  demands  of  the  whole  of 
Morocco,  has  disappeared.  Bnth  hemp  and  tobacco  arc  culrivated 
under  the  restrictions  of  an  imperial  monopoly, — the  former  (of 
prime  quality)  being  largely  used  as  l^ashisn,  the  latter,  thout^h 
never  smoked,  as  snulC  Barley  is  the  most  usual  cereal ;  but 
excellent  crops  of  wheat,  maize,  millet,  rye,  beans,  pease,  chick-peas, 
and  canary  seed  aro  also  obtained.  Potatoes  are  coming  Into 
favour  in  certain  districts. 

It  is  still  true,  as  in  the  time  of  Addison,  that  the  Moors  "  seldom, 
reap  more  than  will  bring  the  year  about,"  and  tho  failure  of  a 
single  harvest  causes  inevitable  dearth.  Captain  Colvile  calculates 
that  not  more  than  a  hundredth  part  of  the  available  laud  is  cnlbi- 
vated  at  all ;  and  the  cultivated  portion  possessed  by  each  tribe  is 
divided  into  three  parts,  one  only  of  which  is  sown  each  year.  With 
a  plough  of  the  most  primitive  description  the  Moorish  peasant 
scarcely  scratches  the  surface  of  the  soil ;  and  his  harrow  is  a  fow 
branclKs  of  trees  weighted  with  heavy  stones.  The  corn  is  cut  close 
to  the  ear  with  short  curved  knives,  and  tho  straw  left  standing. 
Undei^ound  granaries  or  matamore^  [inaimura)  are  constructed, 
sometimes  capable  of  holding  2000  quarters ;  they  preserve  their 
contents  in  good  condition  for  many  years. 

There  is  abundaut  space  in  the  countrj'  Cor  wild  animals,  even  ofl 
the  larger  kind  ;  but  the  absence  of  woodlaud  keeps  them  in  check. 
Besides  tho  lion,  which  exists  only  ill  very  limited  numbers,  and. 
according  to  local  proverbs,  with  diminished  courage,  the  spotted 
leopard,  the  hyiena,  jackal,  lynx,  fox,  and  \vild  boar  are  the 
most  important  The  auda-d  or  wild  sheep  is  found  in  the  more 
inaccessible  parts  of  the  Atlas.  Rabbits  swarm  in  the  country  to 
tho  north  of  the  Bii  Rakrak,  and  since  1870  they  have  crossed  this,' 
whieh  used  to  be  their  southern  limit  A  kind  of  ground-squirrel, 
the  sibsib,  occurs  in  the  southern  provinces.  Monkeys  of  the  sane 
species  as  those  of  Gibraltar  frequent  tho  neighbourhood  of  Jebel 
Miisa  or  Apes'  Hill.  Tho  list  of  the  ordinary  wild  birds  includes 
blackbirds,  goldfinches,  linnets,  greanfincl'.os,  robins,  wagtails, 
skylarks,  and  cresitcd  larks,  as  well  as  turtle-doves,  nightingales, 
and  jays.  The  house-sparrow  is  not  found  ;  between  Morocco  and 
Mogador  its  place  is  taken  by  a  beautiful  bird  (Embcriza  striola(a\ 
locally  called  <a4!6,  or  "the  doctor"  (Leaied).  The  stranger  ia 
struck  by  the  immense  variety  and  number  of  hawks,  and  still  more 
by  the  familiar  terms  on  which  they  build  thcir'nests  in  the. walls 
aud  rocks  along  with  blue  rock-pigoous  and  starlings.  All  through 
the  country  the  red-legged  partridge  is  the  main  resource  of  the 
rportsman,  though  he  may  also  bag  other  varieties  of  partridge, 
bustards,  and  ducks  and  other  water-fowl.  Along  the  coasts  there 
is  no  lack  of  gulls,  whimbrel,  oyster-catchers,  &c.  Every  town  has 
its  colony  of  storks.  LL^rds,  chameleons,  tortoises,  and  frogs  an 
familiar  objects ;  it  is  from  Morocco  that  the  small  tortoises  hawked 
about  tho  sheets  of  London  aro  usually  obtained.  The  profusion 
of  insect-lifo  is  one  of  the  plagues  of  tho  country  in  the  eyes  of 
tjie  European  ;  and  even  the  Moor,  who  has  got  reoonciled  to  his 
mosquitoes  and  fleas,  considers  tho  locust  one  of  his  deadliest 
enemies. 

Tho  camel  is  the  great  beast  of  burden  in  "Morocco,  though  asses 
and  mules  are  also  employed.  ,The  horse,  never  reduced  to  such 
base  uses,  is  usually  a  sturdy  little  animal,  but  far  below  tho 
ancient  reputation  of  the  Barbary  steed.  Ronghly  broken  when 
young,  hit  mouth  is  soon  spoiled  by  barbarous  bits,  and  his  feet 
by  square  shoes.  The  Imest  animals  art  said  to  be  bred  in  Shiidme 
X.\t  —  105 


834 


MOROCCO 


the  mnlea  are  niu 


and  Abda.  In  form  and  sua  the  mnlea  are  ninch  superior,  and 
thej  •.-.sually  fetch  two  or  three  timca  the  price.  The  horned 
oittle  are  not  unlike  Aldemeys  ;  and  the  sheep,  for  the  iiuproTe- 
mont  of  \riiich  nothing  i?  done,  have  spiral  horns  (not  untrequontly 
four;,  rounded  foreheads,  and  long  fine  wool.  Domestic  fowb  are 
kept  in  groat  numbers ;  they  are  of  the  Spanish  tj'pe,  small  and 
prolific.  '^ 

The  mackerel  fishery  off  the  coast  at  Casa  Blanca  and  Tangiers 
attracts  fishers  from  Spain,  Portugal,  and  other  p.irts  of  Europe. 
Oocasionally  a  small  shoal  may  bo  found  as  far  south  as  Mcador 
Soles,  turbot,  bream,  bass,  conger  eel,  and  mullet  are  common°along 
the  CMst,  and  a  large  fish  called  the  aslimsah  (rough  scaled  and 
resembling  a  cod).  Lobsters  and  crayfish  swarm  in  the  rocky 
places,  but  the  natives  have  no  proper  method  of  catching  them 
1  he  tunny,  pilchard,  and  sardine,  and  a  kind  of  shad  knora  aa  the 
Mogador  herring,"  all  prove  at  times  of  practical  importance. 
_  fhe  catching  of  the  shMcl  or  Carbary  salmon,  a  species  of  shad 
)s  a  groat  industry  on  all  the  principal  rivers  of  the  co.iil,  and  vast 
numbers  of  the  fish,  which  are  often  from  5  to  16  pounds  in  weight 
are  dried  and  salted."  They  ascend  from  the  sta  in  spring.  Bar- 
bels and  a  few  other  small  fish  swarm  in  the  streams,  but  for  the 
anrfer  there  is  little  real  sport.' 

Of  the  population  of  Jlorocco  only  the  vaguest  estimate  is  pos- 
sible Behin  and  Wagner  ^ive  6,410,000  — probably  too  high  a 
number.  Ethnographically  it  consists  of  three  main  elements- 
Berbers  or  Shellnh,  Arabs,  and  Jews— with  a  large  infusion  of  Negro 
blood,  and  a  sprinkling  of  Negro  individuals.  A  distinction  is 
sometimes  drawn  between  the  country. Arab  and  the  city  "Moor  " 
as  he  IS  called  par  cxctUrna  ;  but  the  difl'erence  between  them  'is 
one  not  so  much  of  race  (though  the  "  Jloor  "  has  probably  absorbed 
a  greater  variety  of  heterogeneous  elements)  as  of  method  of  life, 
and  the  supcificial  physical  results  of  the  same.  The  Berbers  are 
the  original  occupants  of  the  country  (as  may  V«  proved  by  the 
ancient  words  preserved  by  classical  writers),  and  they  still  form 
not  only  the  most  numerous  but  the  most  industrious  and  civiUzable 
section  of  the  people.  WhUo  the  Arab  is  sHU  by  preference  a  dweller 
in  tents,  the  Berber  for  the  most  part  builds  himself  houses  of  stone 
or  clay.  On  the  whole,  the  Arabs  are  predominant  in  the  lowlands 
and  the  Berbers  in  the  hilly  districts  and  mountains. 

Greatly  corrupted,  even  in  the  time  of  Ibn  Khaldun,  the  Arabic 
of  M/irocco  has  now,  with  the  complete  decav  of  literature  reached 
a  state  of  extreme  degradation.  Of  the  Schllha  dialects  very  Uttle 
13  known,  but  everything  goes  to  prove  theu-  general  philological 
agreement  with  the  better-investigated  representative  of  the  Ber- 
ber. The  Jews  are  the  great  commercial  class  in  the  community 
They  are  usually  said  to  number  about  150,000  to  200,000,  but 
Kohlfs  (Petermann's  Milth.,  1833)  shows  reason  to  suppose  that 
thev  do  not  exceed  62,800.  H.aving  come  largely  from  Spain,  they 
Btlll  use  among  themselves  a  corrupt  Spanish.  = 

That  at  one  time  Morocco  was  a  much  mora  populous  country  is 
evident  froni  the  description  of  Leo  Afiicanus,  though  even  in  his 
bme  the  number  of  ruined  or  decaj-ing  to^vns  was  very  great 
Besides  Tangiers,  Larash,  SaUee,  and  the  other  places  on  the  coast 
already  described,  there  are  only  a  few  large  cities  in  the  country. 
Fourof  theso-FEZ  {q.v.),  Meknes  or  Mequinez  (y.i..),  Wazan,  and 
\f5?T'"'«  ;?  th'3  basin  of  the  Sebii.  On  the  Zarhiin  range,  north 
of  Meknes^  lies  the  town  of  Muley  Edris  or  Zarhiin,  which  no  ghristian 
is  allowed  to  enter,  though  in  1801  Jackson  did  manage  to  pay  a 
burned  visit.  According  to  Captain  Trotter,  who  got  mthin  tliree- 
quarters  of  a  mile,  it  is  a  place  of  apparently  1500  to  2000  inhabitants 
compact,  and  with  several  largo  buildings.  Wazan  (Rohlfs's  Wesan)  is 
par  excellence  a  sacred  city,  being  the  seat  of  a  sherif,  whose  influence 
13  even  more  widely  acknowledged  than  that  of  the  sultan.  It  was 
FT  ?i'i^7'"^''i  ^^°^  ^  ™"''  ^'""SO  ty  Muley  'Abd  Allih  al-Shertf 
(06  167.5).  _  At  present  it  is  one  of  the  cleanest  and  best-kept  places 
in  the  empu-o.  Teza  (Tiza)  is  a  considerable  trading  centre  on  the 
route  between  Fez  and  the  Algerian  frontier.  Le?,  Ali  Boy,  and 
Kohlfs  a^ee  m  descnbing  it  as  a  place  of  great  beauty,  embowered 
in  orchards,  and  the  houses  give  evidence  of  wealth.  Thepopulation, 
in  Leo  3  tune  20  000,  is  now  5000,  of  whom  800  are  Jews  About 
120  milea  oast  of  Tep,  and  only  10  from  the  frontier,  is  Wajda 
(Ouchda  of  the  French),  clean  and  noat,  in  the  midst  of  an  oraiir-o 
grove.  The  only  other  inland  toim  of  importance  is  Kasr  al-Kebu- 
(sae  Aloaz.^h  Kebir),  the  Oppidum  Novum  of  the  Roinans,  which, 
except  on  market-days,  wears  a  look  of  great  decay.  In  all  the 
country  between  the  basin  of  the  Sebii  and  the  Tonsfft,  a  distance 
of  upwards  of  200  miles,  there  is  nothing  that  a  European  would 
consider  a  town  ;  and  Morocco  itself  is  the  only  really  largo  city  of 
south  Morocco.  Tirddant,  the  capital  of  SiSs,  lies  between  the 
Atlaa  and  the  river  ;  it  is  a  place  of  from  30,000  to  40,000  inhabit- 
ants, has  recently  been  garrisoned  and  rcfortifiod  by  tho  sulUn 
and  may  bo  considered  tho  frontier  city  of  his  empire.     High  (Ilii-,' 

1  A  EclontlDc  Hut  of  s 
m  Ber.  Senclc.  G*8.^  1874 
;-Vo«  a  PotUni  Storu. 


)  thirty  or  foi-ty  flfihps  from  Morocco  will  bo  found 
a  account  of  angling  oxperlencoa  In  Payton,  Mos^a 

•The  JTldenoe  tor  th«  rtftonee  of  >  tribe  of  warUke  J«w»  In  the  Ulterior 
'■Mnt  on  the  whole  to  the  positive  side. 


niec,  &c.),  100  mile3»aouth-Bouth-ea«t  on  a  stroaia  wtich  joins  tla* 
Missa  is  the  chief  town  of  Tazarwalt  or  the  sUte  of  SidiHiaLani, 
an  independent  principality  founded  by  Sidi  Ahmed  u  Musa  ;  and 
Auguilmin  (Gulfmin  or  Glimin),  in  like  manner,  is  the  d>ief  to-«-« 
of  the  state  of  'Abd  Allah  u  Salem,  or,  as  it  is  usually  called  br 
Europeans,  Wad  Nun.  Tagawost  (Tagaost  of  Ibu  Khaldiii.i, 
about  40  miles  inland  fiom  Ifni,  was  fom-.eilj  iw  lalgo  city,  and 
in  tho  16th  century  tho  seat  of  a  Spanish  factoij  nading  U'  alchil. 
Throughout  Morocco  the  nomci  claturo  of  orJu  aiy  maps  gives  ■ 
very  misleading  idea  of  tlie  numboi  of  inliabittd  site-  Most  c( 
the  seeming  villages  are  either  markot-placea,  completely  deserted 
except  on  market-days,  or  the  tombs  of  saints,  with  possiblv  not  i 
house  in  the  vicinity,  or  stations  foi  caiavaLa,  v  ith  a  small  ton. 
pnnv  of  soldiers.  Tho  markets  are  named  after  the  days  of  tlw 
week,  as  Siik  al-Tbal.'itha,  Tuesday  maikot  ;  the  kubbas  oi  "aints' 
tombs  are  distinguished  as  Sidi  (my  mastoi)  jo  aid  so  ;  ai.d  th» 
stations  are  marked  Nzela,  or  some  such  corruption  as  Iniella. 

The  prehistoric  antiquities  of  Morocco  are  of  considejable  Intel  est. 
In  a  cave  at  Cajjo  Spartel  M.  Tissot  found  regularly  shaped  aii-otr- 
heads,  and  in  his  travels  through  tho  noith  of  tho  country  he  met 
with  dolmens,  barrows,  and  cromlechs,  just  as  in  Algeria  oi  Tuni». 
The  dolmens  usually  form  a  trapezium,  and  the  dead  body  steina  to 
have  been  buried  \rith  the  knees  drawn  up  to  the  chiu.     At  Mzoiah 
(Mazorah),  a  quaint  little  vUlago  of  widely-scattered  houses  boilt  of 
rough  blocks  of  yellow  soft  sandstone,  about  8  or  10  miles  south- 
east from  Azili,  stands  a  group  of  megalithic  monuments  of  ex- 
traordinary extent.     They  have  been  visited  and  described  by  Sii 
Arthur  de  Capell  Brooke  (1830),  Davidson  (1833),  Farley  (1860), 
Tissot,  Watson,  Trotter,  ic.    Watson's  account  is  the  most  detailed 
Round  the  base  of  a  mound  (16  feet  high)  of  yellow  sandstone  lie» 
a  circle  of  sixty-seven  large  stones,  one  of  which  (at  the  west  sids) 
IS  more  than  20  feet  high.      In  the  vicinity  are  o(?veral  other  groups, 
some  of  stiU  larger  blocks.   Roman  roads  seem  to  ha  ve  run  from  Tan ' 
giere  southwards  to  tho  neighbourhood  of  Jlekned,  and  from  Azilil  to 
the  south  of  Rabiit ;  and  Roman  sites  are  in  several  instances  marked 
by  considerable  remains  of  masonry.     At  Kasr  Fanl'iin  (Pharaoh's 
castle),  on  the  western  slope  of  J.  Zarhiin,  are  the  ruins  of  VolubiUif. 
The  enceinte,  constructed  of  large  stones  and  flanked  by  round  towers, 
IS  12,000  feet  in  extent.     Four  gates  are  stUl  rccogniz-ablc,  and  a 
triumphal  arch  erected  in  216  a.d.  in  honour  of  Caracalla  and  Julia 
Domna.    The  stones  of  this  site  have  been  used  for  Mekues.     Banasa 
(Colonia  iElia,  originally  Valentia)  is  identified  with  the  ruins  of  Sidi 
All  Bu  Jenun,  and  Tliamusida  with  those  of  Sidi  Ali  b.  Hamed. 
At  Tchemmish,  up  the  river  from  Larash,  the  city  of  Lixus  (Trim 
of  Strabo)  has  left  splendid  specimens  of  Punic  and  Roman  stone- 
work, and  the  similar  remains  on  the  headland  of  Jliili  Bii  Selham 
probably  belong  to  tho  Mudelacha  of  Polybius.     Of  early  .Moorish 
architecture  good  examples  .are  comparatively  few,  and  badly  pre- 
served.    Besides  those  in  Fez,  Meknes,  and  Morocco,  it  is  sufficient 
to  mention  the  mausoleum  of  the  Beni-Merin  (13th  to  16th  centuries) 
at  Sheila,  which,  with  the  adjoining  mosque,  is  roofless  and  niined, 
but  possesses  a  number  of  valuable  inscriptions  (see  Athcnanim,  1876). 
The  present  state  of  Morocco  is  deplorable.     The  govenuneut  is 
an  Oriental  despotism  under  an  independent  quasi-hereditary  sultan ; 
there  are  no  administrative  functionaries  with  definite  responsibility 
and  regular  salary  ;  the  distribution  of  justice  is  utteriy  arbiti-ary, 
and  the  punishments  often  barbarous  in  the  extreme  ;  education, 
in  the  European  sense  of  the  word,  there  is  none  ;  foreign  commerco 
IS  hampered  by  vexatious  prohibitions  and  restrictions,  internal  trade 
by  the  almost  complete  absence  of  roads  and  bridges,  and  by  tho 
generally  lawless  state  of  the  country  (the  very  peasant  has  his  gnn 
beside  him  as  he  ploughs) ;  the  only  substitute  for  a  postal  system 
IS  a  class  of  running  couriers;  and  even  the  ai-ray  (in  which  tho  sultan 
does  take  an  interest)  is  only  just  beginning  to  show  signs  of  disci- 
plmo  and  cfTectiveness  under  the  supervision  of  Kaid  M'Clean  and 
other  forei-gu  olBcers.      The  last  remnants  of  tfie  once  powerful 
Moorish  fleet  are  rotting  beyondrecognition  in  the  harbour  of  Larash. 
With  good  government  and  freedom  of  trade  the  country  might 
soon  be  restored  to  a  high  state  of  prosperity  :  its  climate,  soil, 
products,  and  the  qualities  of  its  predominant  poi-uLition  are  full 
of  promise  ;   and  the  evident  decrease  of  hostility  towards  tho 
Christian,  which  may  be  observed  since  the  beginning  of  the  cen- 
tury, and  especially  within  recent  years,  gives  hope  that  European 
influence,  apart  from  European  conquest,  may  before  long  remove 
from  Morocco  the  reproach  of  being  "the  China  of  the  WIst,"  tho 
most  backward  and  barbarous  of  civilized  nations. 

^■tjiiory.— Jlorocco  corresponds  to  tho  Roman  Mauretania  Tingi- 
tana  (.see  MADRErANi.\).  Connuercd  by  tiie  Vandals  (429  a.d  ) 
Mauretania  was  recovered  to  the  Eastern  Empire  by  BeJisariiia! 
The  Arabs  first  peneti'ated  into  tho  country  under  'Okba  {supra, 
p.  567),  but  the  Berbers  opposed  an  obstinate  resistance  to  Islemi 
and  their  conversion  and  subjection  to  the  caliphate  was  only  com- 
pleted iu  tho  reign  of  Walid  by  Mus,i  b.  Nosair,  tho  conqueror  of 
hpain  {siqira,  p.  673).  The  dominion  of  the  caliphs  was  of  shocf 
duration ;  the  Abbisids  had  very  little  hold  of  tho  Berber  countric- 
and  in  the  8th  century,  while  the  Aghlabites  were  practically  inde- 
pendent at  KfllrawiSn,  the  regions  weet  of  the  salt  marsh  of  Sobkhs 


MOROCCO 


sl-Hedbs  were  «utonomoiu  under  »  number  of  in'^igenoiu  or  foreign 
princea.  The  chief  of  these  principalities  were  tnat  of  the  Idrisites 
»t  Fej  (rupra,  p.  681),  the  kingdom  of  Tahart,  and  that  of  NikiSr. 
In  the  first  years  of  the  10th  centnry  the  Fitiniite  caliphs,  at  the 
bead  of  the  powerful  Berber  tribe  of  Ketama,  overthrew  the  AgMa- 
bites,  thos  patting  an  end  for  ever  to  Arab  rule  in  North  Africa, 
and  rapidly  extended  their  empire  to  the  Atlantic.  When  the  Fati- 
mites  established  themselves  in  Egypt,  the  Zirid  dynasty  reigned  as 
their  vassals  in  the  west,  and  maintained  themselves  with  varying 
fortunes  till  the  rise  of  the  great  empire  of  the  Almoratides  (  j.  v.  ), 
who  yielded  in  turn  to  the  Almohades  (q.v.).  The  latter  dynasty 
•was  eitinguished  by  the  princes  of  the  Beai-Merin,  whose  chief, 
Ya'kilb  b.  Abd  al-Hakk,  captured  Morocco  in  1269  a.d.  The  sub- 
sequent history  of  Morocco  and  Fe2  under  the  Merinids  and  their 
successon  presents  little  interest,  being  as  full  of  internecine  wars, 
contested  successions,  fratricides,  general  bloodshed,  and  barbarities 
as  it  is  empty  of  all  indications  of  an  advance  in  civilization.  As 
regards  the  relations  of  the  country  to  European  nations,  four  periods 
may  be  distinguished— (1)  a  period  lasting  down  to  the  close  of  the 
Uth  century,  when  the  Moorish  potentates  were  still  the  most  pro- 
minent representatives  of  aggressive  Mohammedanism  ;  (2)  a  period 
during  which  the  Portuguese  and  Spaniards,  having  expelled  their 
invaders,  made  vigorous  reprjals  and  obtained  possession  of  many 
towns  on  the  coast  of  Morocco  ;  (3)  a  period  in  wliich  these  hations, 
disheartened  by  the  disastrous  defeat  in  the  Battle  of  the  Threo 
Kings  (1679),  allowed  the  Moors  to  recover  much  of  the  ground 
they  had  lost,  and  to  become,  by  their  piracies  and  defiance  of  inter- 
national law,  an  object  if  not  of  terror  yet  of  apprehension  and 
irntotion  ;  and  (i)  a  period  in  which  the  pr^tige  of  this  after- 
glow of  greatness  has  gradually  died  out. 

The  following  are  the  more  noteworthy  events  in  the  Moorish 
annals  since  the  beginning  of  the  15th  century. 

1416.  Ceuta  captured  by  the  Portuguese.    1*36.  First  expedition 
against  Tangiers  by  Don  Duarte ;  capture  of  Don  Fernando,  who 
died  in  exile  in  1459  (it  was  proposed  to  ransom  him  by  cession  of 
Ceuta,  but  the  pope  objected).     1459.  Capture  of  Alcazar  Seguir 
1471.  Captiirj  of  tangiers.    1610-1540.  Bise  of  the  dynasty  of  the 
Shenfs.     1577.  Edmond  Hogan  sent  by  Queen  Elizabeth  of  England 
to  Muley  Abd  al-Melek  (see  Report  in  Hakluyt).     1578.  Deflat  of 
King  Sebastian  (see  Leared,  Fisit  to  Court  of  Morocco,  appendix). 
1 585.  Founding  of  the  Company  of  Barbary  Merchants  (earls  of  War- 
mck,  ^icester,  &c.)  in  Lonclon  ;  Elizabeth's  second  ambassador 
Henry  Roberts  well  received.    1610.  The  Moors  from  Spain  settle 
partly  at  Habat,  &c.,  and  prove  troublesome.     1649.  Muley  Zidan 
??    .  ?v'^'°^  '^i'?.'''^'  '•  "quoting  him  to  attack  Sallee  by  sea. 
About  this  time  Aii  Sherif  of'Yanbo,  near  Medina,  is  recognized  as 
rnler  of  TafOelt,  and  gradually  of  the  rest  of  the  empire  except  the 
city  01  Morocco  ;   with  him  commences  the  dynasty  of  the  Alides  • 
^L      1««,    '^  '°°'-  ^'"''^'""^d  ^°i  Arshid,  dispute  the  succes- 
Bion.     1662.  Tangiers  (Portuguese  since  1471)  becomes  an  EnglUh 
possession  as  part  of  the  dowry  of  Catherine  of  Braganza.    1664-1672 
Keign  of  Arshid,  a  warlike,  active,  and  cruel  prince,  who  was  the 
first  to  take  the  title  of  sulUn.     1672-1727.  Reign  of  Ishmael,  who 
•n  ability  and  ferocity  completely  outdid  hU  brother  Arshid,  and 
rapported   his  throne   by  an  enormous  army  of  slaves  from  the 
oudin.      1878.  Great  plague  ;  ambassadors  sent  to  Louis  XIV 
^.^     k  •"ndof  MademoiseUe  Blois,  the  king's  natural  daughter! 
1882.     The  sultan  sends  two  lions  to  the  king  of  England.     1684 
Sir  Cloudesley  Shovel  defends  British  interests  on  the  coast ;  with- 
drairal  of  the  English  from  Tangiers.    1687.  Capture  of  Larash  from 
the  Spaniards.    1694.  Siege  of  Ceuta.     1725.  Thomas  Betton.  who 
had  been  a  slave  in  Morocco,  left  £13,000,  the  half  of  his  fortune 
lor  the  ransom  of  British  captives  in  that  country.     1727-173o' 
Disputed  succession.      1757-1789.    Reign  of  Mohammed.      1778' 
Jfoo    o  •  ''^^'  '^''^*'  kmiae  ;  Agadir  opened  to  the  Dutch.    1794- 
imi.   Keign  of  Sohman  ;  abolition  of  Christian  slavery  in  Morocco  • 
suppression  of  piracy.      1822-1859.    Reign  of  Abd  er  Rahman 
rupture  mth  Spain  on  account  of  the  decapitation  of  Consul  Darmon 
■AMI  \°""'^"'.S  of  a  Moor.     1844.   Defet  of  forces  sent  to  assist 
Abd  al-Kader  m  Algiers  ;  bombardment  of  Tangiers  and  Mogador 
by  the  prince  de  Jomville  ;  rout  of  the  Moorish  forces  in  the  battle 
T»„l-    '  *   I   Pf^fi"  ?^  Tangiers.     1845.    Naval  demonstration  at 
terri?„rv  .^  p"  f  "^'T^o"'  l""*^-  ^"rad"  to  Spain  of  disputed 
l.T,\y  »'  Ceuta.     1853.  Establishment  of  a  customs  line  and 
regular  mi  itary  posts  a  ong  the  Algerian  frontier,     1856.  English 
commercial  treaty  by  which  no  duty  shaU  exceed  10  per  cent  of 
invalbn'    IMrr?  ■  'T.'V\  Reign  of  MohammeS  ;  Spanish 
ttl  MoL  „.,    T?        ,\°,  ^l'}^  '^*""°  C^"^"'  O'Donnefi  and 
tte  Moors  "ear  Tetuan  (March).     By  the  treaty  of  Tetuan  Morocco 

^nt^C^^^r-T-T  ^l^'r  *"  ^P*'"'  to  ™"-«»'i"  territory  at 
tZ^  r.,  «  -  Y  ^^?**  ^°'  *  '=o'n'n"«al  establishment,  and  to 
allow  the  Spanish  missionaries  to  bare  a  house  at  Fez  like  tVit 

The  t]""^  r  fl  ''^"^^"•.  """'y  ■""  bel^robtainrbl'  \  pky 
the  mdemnity.  the  Spaniards  obuined  control  of  the  customs  for 
Lvmrf„r,r  ""■  P"f«.I«™itting  Europeans  to  trade  in 
t^hf  /  ■°™P"'''  1873.  Aocession  of  Hasan  1880.  English 
.embassy  for  improvement  of  commercial  relations;  conference  at 


835 


Madrid  to  Qefine  the  rights  of  European  representatives  in  regard 
to  the  protection  afforded  by  them  to  subjects  of  the  sultan  :  nnm- 
ber  of  proUgis  limited  to  three.  1882.  Expedition  to  subdue  Sid 
Hosem  of  Iligh.  1883.  Protest  of  the  English  Government  against 
the  slave  trade  m  Morocco. 

Lists  of  wprks  iu  recard  to  Morocco  wtU  be  found  to  Renon,  DescHpt.  ofonr.' 
<i.  Ump  <U  Ataroc,  Paris,  1846,  forming  part  of  Vcrptor.  ttient.  d,  {AllhZ- 
Sji.i'^J?  ^-  ?«"<";,''«  "^T^'i.  18",  1878;  and  In  RUUla  Contmp,^n«l', 
Madrid  1881.   Besides  Renou's  DticripHm-a.  masterly  criticism  of  an  provloni 

^J^l^J^-  ^^  B*""/' Sl=3»);  Leo  Africanus,  J),«rip(.  vwS^TSk™^ 
Tones,  Onfen  y  luceiso  <U  ios  *iri/M  .  .  .  de  Uarruaos  be    1585     M^mrJl 

sou  Account  ofnatBarlarTi,  1671  (Pinkerton'a  Coll.,  it.)  ;  Chenl4r,  RiA.  hUt 
Sacloo  and  ffouM,  1820 ;  Drummond  Hay,  irMtern  £ar6an/.  18M- John  David 
t™1'  f^i,  ^Ik  ^if,?  ^""■' '"  Uormo.  Spain,  ic,  ISsSTRiohM-ds^J 
U  vols.) ;  Boh^s,  Be,^  durch  itarokko,  Bremen,  1868 ;  Fritsoh  In  "  Mltthell.  i 
Vereins  fUr  Erdk.,"  Halle  1878;  Leared,  Morc^  end  Ckt  M«^  1875,.™  vii 
?vi^l,  vt-f"'°£S''  ^f°=  De  Amlcl-s  Uarocco,  Milan,  IST^s  veb- ^phh 
£.^fe«^i  p  f  ^^f  deservedly  tmnslated  into  EngUsh,  French,  olniM" 
fie. ,  Tlssot,  Btct.  tuT  to  f%r.  amparit  dt  to  Jfuaretonij  Tinailant.  i«n  •  Oa- 
^^^t^^""?-,)}"-  ^,"""'"=0',  Santiago,  1878;  Hooker  ind  Bku,  Afiroo™ 
and  a^  Great  Alta,,  1878;  Q.tell,  I'i^es  por  Marriucoe.  1879;  F^yttr,,M^ 
W^,„„-^  J."'-,'',""^  1879;  Liana  yHodrlgaaez,  El  imp.  de  Marluecie,  \m: 
Watson,  AV^t  to  Waian,  1880 ;  Trotter,  ifii^on  lo  tU  Court  o/Aforocco  18S1 : 
Cowan  and  Johnstone,  AfoortiA  Lotna  Uava,  1882.  JKorocoo,  isai . 

Morocco,  or  Marocco  (Marrdkush),  one  of  the  nuasi- 
capitals  of  the  sultanate  (Fez  and  Meknes  being  the  other 
two),  liea  in  a  spacious  plain  about  15  miles  from  the 
northern  underfalls  of  the  Atlas,  and  90  mUes  east-south- 
east of   SaflS,  at  a  height  variously  estimated  as  1639 
feet   (Hooker   and   BaU),    UIO   (Beaumier),   and    1500 
(Leared).    Banking  during  the  early  centuries  of  its  exist- 
ence as  one  of  the  greatest  and  most  flourishing  cities  of 
Islam,  Morocco  has  long  been  in  a  state  of  grievous  decay 
and  were  it  not  for  the  exceptional  beauty  of  its  situation' 
the  luxunant  groves  and  gardens  by  which  it  is  encom- 
passed and  interspersed,  and  the  magnificent  outlook  which 
It  enjoys  towards  the  mountains,  it  would  be  altogether  a 
very  miserable  place.     The  wall,  25  or  30  feet  high,  and 
reheved  by  square  towers  at  intervals  of  360  feet,  is  so 
■dilapidated  that  foot-passengers,  and  in  places  even  horse- 
men, can  find  their  way  in  and  out  through  the  breaches. 
Open  spaces  of  great  extent  are  numerous  enough  within 
the  walls,  but  for  the   most  part  they  are  defaced   by 
mounds  of  rubbish  and  putrid  refuse.     With  the  exception 
of  the  tower  of  the  Kutubia  Mosque  and  a  certain  archway 
which  was  brought  in  pieees  from  Spain,  there  is  not,  it  is 
asserted,  a  single  stone  building  in  the  city;   and  even 
bricks  (though  the  local  manufacture  is  of  exceUent  quality) 
are  sparingly  employed.     Tdbiya,  or  pounded  clay,  is  the 
almost  universal  material,  and  the  houses  are  consequently 
seldom  raised  more  than  two  stories  in  height.     The  palace 
of  the  sultan  covers  an  extensive  area,  and  has  its  parka 
and  gardens  enclosed  by  walls  similar  to  those  of  the  city 
proper,  but  is  architecturally  quite  insignificant.     In  the 
whole  of  Morocco  the  tower  of  the  Kutubia  alone  is  a  worthy 
memonal  of  the  constructive  genius  of  the  early  Moors  vboth 
It  and  the  siniUar  towsr  of  Ha,san  at  Rabdt  are  after  the  type 
of  the  Giralda  at  Seville,  and,  if  tradition  may  be  trust^ 
all  three  were  designed  by  the  same  architect  Jibir.     The 
mosque  to  which  the  tower  belongs  is  a  large  brick  build- 
ing erected  by  'Abd  al-Mumen ;   the  interior  is  adorned 
with  marble  pillars,  and  the  whole  of  the  crypt  b  occupied 
by  a  vast  cistern  excavated  by  Mansiir.    Other  mosques  of 
some  note  are  those  of  Ibn  Yilsuf,  Al-Mansiir,  and  Al-Mo"izz; 
the  chapel  of  Sidi  Bel  Abbas,  in  the  extreme  north  of  the' 
city,  possesses  property  to  the  value  of  £200,000,  and 
serves  as  a  great  almshouse  and  asylum.     As  in  most  other 
towns  throughout  Morocco,  there  is  a  special  Jews'  quarter 
walled  off  from  the  rest.    The  general  population  is  of  a  very 
mixed  and  turbulent  kind ;  crimes  of  violence  are  extremely 
common,  and  there  are  countless  varieties  of  the  profes- 
sional thief.     Almost  the  only  manufacture  extensively 
prosecuted  is  that^f   Morocco   leather,  mainly  red  and 
yellow,  about  1500  men  being  employed  as  tanners  and 
shoemakers.     The  city  was  founded  in  1062  by  Yiisuf  b. 


636 


M  O  R  — M  O  K 


T^efln.  Before  it  was  more  than  a  himdred  years  old  it 
is  said  to  have  had  700,000  inhabitants,  but  at  present  the 
total  number  probably  does  not  exceed  50,000  or  60,000. 
Sea  Leo  Africanua ;  Lambert's  detailed  deecription  in  Bui.  de  la 
See.  de  gio^.,  Paris,  1865;  and  Dr  Lcared's  ri/acimeTtto  of  Lam- 
bert. Lambert's  plan  of  Morocco  is  reproduced  with  some  a^jditions 
by  Dr  Leared ;  and  another  may  be  found  in  GatelL   (H.  A.  W.) 

MORON,  or  Mokon  be  la  Feo>jteea,  a  town  of  Spain, 
in  the  province  of  Seville,  about  32  miles  to  the  south- 
east of  that  city,  occupies  an  irregular  site  upon  broken 
chalk  hillocks  at  a  distance  of  a  mile  and  a  half  from  the 
right  bank  of  the  Guadaira.  It  is  connected  by  rail  with 
Utrera  on  the  Cadiz  and  Seville  Une.  On  the  highest 
^elevation,  to  the  eastward  are  the  ruins  of  the  ancient 
'eastle,  of  considerable  importance  during  the  Moorish 
period,  and  afterwards  used  as  a  palace  by  the  counts  of 
Ureiia.  In  1810-11  it  was  fortified  by  the  French,  but 
blown  up  by  them  in  the  following  year.  The  chief  public 
building  of  Moron  is  the  large  parish  church,  which  dates 
from  the  16ih  century,  but  presents  no  noteworthy  features. 
The  fine  district  between  Moron  and  the  Serrania  de 
Honda  is  largely  occupied  by  olive  plantations,  and  the 
trade  in  oil  and  other  agricultural  produce  forms  the  chief 
industry  of  the  town.  Moron  is  also  famous  throughout 
Spain  for  its  chalk  (cal  de  Moron),  from  which  the  white- 
■wash  extensively  used  in  the  Peninsula  ii  derived.  The 
population  of  the  town  was  14,879  in  1878. 

)MORONI,  GiAiiBATTKTA  (c.  1510-1578),  an  eminent 
portrait-painter  of  the  Venetian  school,  was  bom  at  Albino 
near  Bergamo  about  1510,  and  became  a  pupil  of  Bonvicino 
named  II  Moretto.  Beyond  the  record  of  his  works  very- 
few  particulars  regarding  him  have  reached  us.  Titian, 
under  whom  also  Moroni,  while  still  very  young,  is  said 
to  have  studied  (but  this  appears  hardly  probable),  had 
st  any  rate  a  high  opinion  of  his  powers ;  h  j  said  that 
Moroni  made  his  portraits  "living"  or  "actual"  (veri). 
And  if  the  magnates  of  Bergamo  came  to  the  great  Vene- 
tian for  their  likenesses  he  advised  them  to  go  to  their 
own  countryman.  In  truthful  and  animated  portraitiu'e 
Moroni  ranks  near  Titian  himself.  His  portraits  do  not 
indeed  attain  to  a  majestic  monumental  character;  but 
they  are  full  of  straightforward  life  and  individuality, 
witii  genuine  unforced  choice  of  attitude,  and  excellent 
texture  and  arrangement  of  draperies.  There  is  a  certain 
tendency  to  a  violet  tint  in  the  flesh,  and  Uie  drawing 
and  action  of  the  hands  are  not  first-rate.  As  leading 
eamplos  of  his  portraits  may  be  mentioned — in  the  Uflizi 
Gallery,  Florence,  the  Nobleman  pointing  to  a  Flame,  in- 
scribed "Et  quid  volo  nisi  ut  ardeat?";  in  the  National 
Gallery,  London,  the  portraits  of  a  Tailor,  a  member  of 
the  Fenaroli  tamily.  Canon  Ludovico  de'  Terzi,  and  others ; 
in  the  Berlin  Gallery,  his  own  portrait ;  and  in  Stafford 
House,  the  seated  half-figure  of  the  Jesuit  Ercole  Tasso, 
currently  termed  "  Titian's  Schoolmaster  " — not  as  indicat- 
ing any  real  connexion  between  the  sitter  and  Titian, 
but  only  the  consummate  excellence  of  the  work.  Besides 
his  portraits,  Moroni  painted,  from  youth  to  his  latest 
days,  the  ordinary  round  of  sacred  compositions ;  but  in 
these  he  falls'below  his  master  U  Moretto,  and  his  design, 
which  partakes  more  of  the  Lombard  or  Milanese  style 
than  of  the  Venetian,  has  at  times  some  of  the  dryness 'of 
the  quattrocento.  One  of  the  best  is  the  Coronation  of  the 
Virgin  in  S.  Alessandro  della  Croce,  Bergamo;  also  in  the 
Cathe<lral  of  Verona,  Sts  Peter  and  Paul,  and  in  the  Bn»  a 
of  -Milan,  the  Assumption  of  the  Virgin.  Moroni  was 
engaged,  upon  a  Last  Judgment  in  the  church  of  Corlago 
when  he  died -on  5th  February  1578. 

MOPiOSINI,  the  name  of  a  noble  Venetian  family. 
According  to  the  best  authorities,  Cappellari  and  Bar- 
baro,  there  '.vould  seem  to  have  been  two  families  of  that 


name,  distinguishing  themselves  by  the  variation  of  tlip'- 
shield.  The  one  came  from  Mantua  at  the  time  of  Attila's 
invasion,  and  bore  or,  a  fess  azure.  The  other  came  from 
Ulyria  in  the  7th  century ;  they  bore  or,  a  bend  azure. 
However  that  may  be,  nothing  authentic  is  known  of  the 
Morosini  till  we  find  them  settled  as  one  family  in  Venice 
during  the  8th  century.  The  Morosini  belong  to  the  Case 
Vecchie,  or  twenty-four  families  6f  Venetian  nobility  who 
were  descended  from  the  tribunes  of  the  confederate  islands 
before  Venice  became  united  in  one  centre  at  Eialto.  The 
10th  century  was  a  period  of  danger  for  the  family.  They 
became  involved  in  a  blood  feud  with  another  noble  house, 
the  Caloprini,  who  were  GhibeUine  in  poUtics,  and  relied 
upon  the  emperor  Otto  for  support.  The  Morosini,  how. 
ever,  proved  the  stronger,  thanks  to  their  popularity ;  and 
the  year  991  saw  them  victorious  through  the  deposition 
of  the  doge  Memo,  who  had  favoured  their  enemies.  The 
Morosini  engaged  in  commerce  with  the  East,  and  in 
the  14th  century  two  brothers  of  the  family,  Alban  and 
Marco,  founded  a  house  at  Aleppo  with  branches  in 
Damascus,  Beyriit,  and  elsewhere  in  Syria.  The  wealth 
and  importance  of  the  family  may  be  gathered  from  the 
fact  that  in  1379  no  less  than  fifty-nine  Morosini  s-ubscribed 
towards  the  fund  for  carrying  on  the  war  of  Chioggia.  The 
house  of  Morosini  gave  four  doges  to  Venice,  and  numbered 
among  its  honours  two  royal  marriages,  two  cardinals, 
twenty-four  procurators  of  St  Mark,  besides  numerous 
generals  of  the  republic.  The  Morosini  continued  to 
flourish  till  the  opening  of  the  last  century,  when  the 
family  began  "to  decline ;  it  is  now  represented  by  one  sur- 
viving member. 

Among  the  more  distinguished  members  of  the  house 
must  be  mentioned  : — Giovanni,  who  in  982  founded  the 
monastic  establishment  on  S.  Giorgio  Maggiore  after  the 
order  of  St  Benedict;  Domenico,  doge  1148-1156 — in 
the  third  year  of  his  reign  Pola  and  Istria,  which  had 
rebelled,  were  reconquered;  Marino,  doge  1249-1252, 
during  whose  reign  the  Inquisition,  in  a  modified  form  and 
under  the  surveillance  of  Venetian  officers,  was  introduced 
into  Venice  for  the  firat  time.  In  this  same  century  (1290) 
Tommasina  Jlorosini,  the  sister  of  Albertino  il  Grande, 
married  Stephen,  prince  of  Hungary.  Their  son  Andrew 
succeeded  to  the  throne,  and  was  directed  in  his  govern- 
ment by  his  uncle  Albertino,  on  whom  he  conferred  the 
dukedom  of  Slavonia  and  the  county  of  Morlacchia.  A 
cousin  of  Tommasina,  Costanza,  married  Ladislaus,  king  of 
Servia.  In  1382  Michele  Morosini  was  elected  doge. 
He  had  acquired  a  large  fortune  and  a  reputation  for 
astuteness  by  bujing  Venetian  property  while  the  Genoese 
were  still  in  Chioggia ;  iind  much  was  expected  of  him  in 
tha  restoration  of  his  country's  finance  when  that  war 
came  to  an  end.  But  he  died  the  year  of  his  election. 
Andrea  Morosini  the  historian  was  born  in  155S.  He 
studied  at  Padua,  and  on  coming  of  age  embarked  on 
public  life.  He  passed  through  the  various  oflices  of 
state,  till  in  1618  he  was  a  candidate  for  the  dogeship, 
but  failed  to  secure  it,  and  died  the  same  year.  On  the 
death  of  the  oflicial  historian  Paolo  Paruta,  in  1598, 
Andrea  was  commissioned  by  the  Council  of  Ten  to  con- 
tinue his  work,  and  received  authority  to  consult  the  state 
papers  down  to  1594.  He  wrote  his  history  in  Latin.  It 
covers  from  1521  to  1615,  and  was  first  published  in 
Venice,  1623. 

Andrea's  other  works,  of  which  only  tha  firsthas  been  edited,  are: — 
(1)  L'imprase  cd  csptditioni  di  Terra  Bania  e  taciiuisto  fcJ'o  de!V 
Impcrio  di  CostarUinopoli  dalla  Sermissrma  ItcpubUcn  di  V^tncUa, 
T.nice,  1627  j  (2)  De  iU  qua  Veneta  Jiespuilica  ad  Istrim  oras  gcssit 
adversiis  Othonem  Federici  ImpcrcUorui  JiiUim,  in  the  Ccrner-Duodo 
collection  of  Mi^S.  ;  (3)  De  forma  rcijntbUcw  Vindie,  ia  the  National 
Library,  Pans;  (4)  RaccoUa  dMe  Lcgai  dr'  Cons.  X,  in  th« 
Archivio  Gcncralc  at  the  Frari,  Ysuice  ;'  (5)  D.'  rebus  geslis  ae  tuc* 


M  O  R  —  M  O  R 


837 


Frandxi  Carmaniola,  in  the  Corner-Dnodo  collection.  The  life  of 
Andrea  han  been  written  by  Luigi  LoUin,  bistop  of  BeUuno  (1623), 
ty  Niccolo  Crasso  (1621),  and  by  Antonio  Palazzoli  (1620). 

The  most  distinguished  member  of  the  house  of  Morosini 
■was  Francesco,  the  captain-general  of  the  republic  against 
the  Turks  and  conqueror  of  the  Morea.  He  was  born  in 
1318.  In  1666  he  was  in  command  during  an  unfortunate 
campaign  in  Candia.  In  1687  he  conquered  Patras,  and 
80  opened  the  Morea  to  the  Venetian  arms.  In  the  follow- 
ing year  he  was  elected  doge.  After  his  return  to  Venice 
the  republic  suffered  severely  in  Candia,  and  though  now 
an  old  man  Francesco  took  the  field  again  in  1693,  but 
fiied  the  next  year  at  Nauplia,  seventy-six  years  of  age.  A 
more  detailed  account  of  his  exploits  will  be  found  in  the 
article  Venici 

AuOurritiea. — Barbaro,  Oenealogie  dellc  Famiglie  Pairizic  Venae, 
MS.,  clas.  vii.  cod.  dccccxxvii.,  in  the  Marcian  Library,  Vonico  ; 
Cappellari,  Cainpidoglio  Fcnclo,  MS.,  clas.  viL  cod.  ivii.,  in  the 
same  library  ;  Komanin,  Storia  documentata  di  Venczia ;  Freschot, 
La  Nobilld  Venda  ;  Cicogna,  Iscrizione  Vcnezianc. 

MOEPETH,  a  municipal  and  parliamentary  borough  of 
Northumberland,  England,  is  situated  in  a  fine  valley  on 
the  Wansbeck,  and  on  the  North-Eastem  Railway,  50  miles 
south  of  Berwick  and  16  north  of  Newcastle.  The  Wans- 
beck, which  is  crossed  by  a  stone  and  t\vo  wooden  bridges, 
winds  round  the  town  on  the  west,  south,  and  east,  and 
a  small  rivulet,  the  Cottingburn,  bounds  it  on  tie  north. 
Morpeth  is  irregularly  built,  but  possesses  a  number  of 
good  shops.  .The  parish  church  of  the  Blessed  Virgin,  a 
plain  building  of  the  14th  century,  is  situated  on  Kirk  Hill, 
a  short  distance  from  the  town.  Among  the  other  public 
buildings  are  the  Edward  VI. 's  grammar  school,  reopened 


in  1857  after  a  Chancery  suit  lasting  150  years ;  the  town- 
hall,  erected  in  1870  to  supersede  a  building  of  1714  by 
Vanbmgh ;  and  the  county-hall  and  former  gaol,  in  the 
baronial  style,  built  in  1814.  Nothing  remains  of  the  old 
castle  except  the  gateway.  Morpeth  had  at  one  time  one  of 
the  largest  cattle-markets  in'  England.  The  industries  of 
the  town  include  tanning,  brewing,  malting,  iron  and  brass 
founding,  and  the  manufacture  of  flannels,  agricultural 
implements,  and  bricks  and  tiles.  The  population  of  the 
municipal  borough  (231  acrea)  in  1871  was  4517,  and  in 
1881  it  was  4556.  The  population  of  the  parliamentary 
borough  (17,085  acres)  in  the  same  years  was  30,239  and 
33,459. 

Morpeth  [Morepaih,  i.e.,  the  path  over  the  moor)  had  attained 
some  size  before  the  Norman  Conquest,  wken  it  was  granted  to 
William  de  Merlay.  From  the  De  Merlays  it  passed  tiirougU  tU« 
Greystocks  and  Dacres  to  the  Howards,  earls  of  Carlisle.  Soon 
after  the  Conquest  it  obtained  the  privilege  of  a  market,  and 
ia  1552  arms  were  granted  to  it  by  Edward  VI.  It  is  a  borough 
by  prescription,  and  waa  incorporated  by  Charles  IL  By  the 
Municipal  Act  of  1835  the  government  was  placed  in  a  mayor  and 
burgesses,  but  there  is  a  local  board  of  health  distinct  from  the 
corporation,  havirfg  control  over  an  area  slightly  larger  than  that 
of  the  municipal  borough.  From  1553  the  borough  sent  two 
members  to  parliament,  but  since  1832  only  one  member  has  been 
returned,  and  in  1868  the  area  of  the  borough  was  inctcased. 

MORPHEUS  is  a  personification,  apparently  invented 
by  Ovid  {Metam.,  xi.  635),  of  the  power  that  calls  up 
shapes  before  the  fancy  of  a  dreamer.  The  name  (from 
liop<j>^)  expresses  this  function ;  Ovid  translates  it  arti/ea 
simulaiorque  figwrse.  Morpheus  is  naturally  represented 
as  the  son  of  Sleep  (Somnus). 

MORPHIA.    See  Opium. 


MOEPHOLOGY 


THE  .term  Morphology  (/lopi^i),  form),  introduced  by 
Goethe  to  denote  the  study  of  the  unity  of  type  in 
organic  form  (for  which  the  Linnoean  terra  Metamorphosis 
(q.v.)  had  formerly  been  employed),  now  usually  covers 
the  entire  science  of'  organic  form,  and  will  be  employed 
in  this  more  comprehensive  sense  in  the  present  article. 

§  1.  Historical  Outline. — If  we  disregard  such  vague 
likenesses  as  those  expressed  in  the  popular  classifications 
of  plants  by  size  into  herb.%  shrubs,  and  trees,  or  of 
terrestrial  animals  by  habit  into  beasts  and  creeping 
things,  the  history  of  morphology  commences  with  Aris- 
totle. Founder  of  comparative  anatomy  and  ta.Yononiy, 
he  established  eight  great  divisions  (to  which  are  aj)- 
pended  certain  minor  groups) — Viviparous  Quadrupeds, 
Birds,  Oviparous  Quadrupeds  and  Apoda,  Fishes,  Ma- 
lakia,  Malacostrara,  Etitoma,  and  Oslracodcrmala — dis- 
tinguishing the  first  foiu'  groups  as  Enaima  ("with 
blood")  from  the  remaining  four  as  Anaima  ("blood- 
less"). In  these  two  divisions  we  recognize  the  Ver- 
tebrata  and  Inver.tebrata  of  Lamarck,  while  the  eight 
groups  are  identical  with  the  Mammals,  Birds,  Reptiles, 
Fishes,  the  Ccphalopods,  Crustaceans,  other  Articulates, 
and  Tcstaceans  of  recent  zoology.  Far,  too,  from  com- 
mitting the  mistake  often  attributed  to  him  of  reckoning 
Bats  as  Birds,  or  Cetaceans  as  Fishes,  ho  discerned  the 
true  affinities  of  both,  and  erected  the  latter  into  a  spe- 
cial yekos  beside  the  Viviparous  Quadrupeds,  far  more  on 
account  of  their  absence  of  limla  than  of  their  aquatic 
habit.  Not  only  ia  his  method  inductive,  and,  as  in 
,  modem  systems,  his  groups  patural,  i.e.,  founded  on  the 
aggregate  of  known  char.acters,  but  he  foreshadows  such 
generalizations  as  those  of  the  correlation  of  organs,  and 
of  the  progress  of  development  from  a  general  to  a  special 
form,  Ioi>g  afterwards  established  by  Cuvier  and  Von 
JBaer   re.-<pectivelv.     In   the   correspondence   he   sugggsts 


between  the  scales  of  Fishes  and  the  feathers  of  Birds,  or 
in  that  hinted  at  between  the  fins  of  Fishes  and  the  limbs 
of  Quadrupeds,  the  idea  of  homology  too  is  nascent ;  and 
from  the  compilation  of  his  disciple  Nicolaus  of  Damascus, 
who  regards  leaves  as  imperfectly-developed  fruits,  he  seemii 
almost  to  have  anticipated  the  idea  of  the  metamorphosis 
of  plants.  In  short,  we  find  a  knoviledge  of  structural 
facts  and  a  comparative  freedom  from  the  errors  induced 
by  physiological  resemblance,  of  which  his  successors  such 
as  Theophrastus  and  Pliny,  generally  mere  classifiers  by 
habit,  show  little  trace,  and  whi:h  the  modems  have  but 
slowly  regained.  Little  indeed  can  be  recorded  until  tlie 
13th  century,  when  the  reappearance  of  Aristotle's  work* 
gave  a  new  impulse  to  the  study  of  organic  nature.  Of 
the  works  of  this  period  that  of  Albertus  Magnus  is  far 
the  most  important;  but  they  ore  all  no  more  than  re- 
vivals of  Aristotle,  marking  the  reappearance  of  scientific 
method  and  the  reavrakening  of  interest  in  and  sympathy 
with  nature.  Meanwhile  leech  and  apothecary,  alchemist 
and  witch,  were  accumulating  coiiiiidcrablo  knowledge  of 
plants,  which,  after  the  invention  of  jirinting,  became 
collected  and  extended  in  the  descriptive  and  well-illus- 
trated folios  of  Gesner  and  his  successors,  Fuchs,  Lobel, 
and  others,  as  well  as  by  the  establishment  of  botanic 
gardens  and  scientific  academies,  while,  as  Sachs  expresses 
it,  "  in  the  sharpest  contrast  to  the  naive  empiricism  of  the 
German  fathers  of  botany  came  their  Italian  contemporary 
Ca;salpinus,  as  the  thinker  of  the  vegetable  world."  Both 
made  systematic  efibrts, — the  Germans  vaguely  seclcing  for 
natural  afiinities  in  mere  similarities  of  habit,  the  Italian 
with  no  inconsiderable  success  striving  towards  an  intel- 
lectual basis  of  clas.sification.  Monographs  on  groups  of 
plants  and  animal.i  frequently  appeared,  those  of  Uclon  on 
Birds  and  Rondelet  on  Fishes  being  among  the  earliest ;  and 
in  the  former  of  these  (1555)  we  find  a  comparison  of  the. 


838 


MORFHOLOGY 


skeletons  of  Bird  and  Man  in  the  same  posture  and  as 
nearly  as  possible  bone  for  bone, — an  idea  which,  despite 
the  contemporaneous  renaissance  of  human  anatomy  ini- 
tiated by  Vesolius,  disappeared  for  centuries,  unappreciated 
save  by  the  surgeon  Ambroise  V&ii.  Palissy,  like  Leonardo 
before  him,  discerrisd  the  true  nature  of  fossils ;  and  such 
flashes  of  morphological  insight  continued  to  appear  from 
time  to  time  during  the  17  th  century.  Thus,  Joachim 
Jung  recogniicd  "  the  distinction  between  root  and  stem, 
the  difference  between  leaves  and  foliaceous  branches,  the 
transition  from  the  ordinary  leaves  to  the  folia  floris,"  and 
Harvey  anticipated  the  generalizations  of  modem  embryo- 
logy by  his  researches  on  development  and  his  theory  of 
epigenesis. 

The  encyolopsdic  period  of  which  Qesner  is  the  highest 
.representative  was  continued  by  AJdrovandi,  Jonston, 
and  others  in  the  17th  century,  but,  aided  powerfully  by 
the  Baconian  movement,  then  profoundly  influencing  all 
scientific  minds,  it  developed  rapidly  into  one  of  genuinely 
systematic  aim.  At  this  stage  of  progress  by  far  the  most 
important  part  was  taken  by  John  Ray,  whose  classificatory 
labours  both  among  plants  and  animals  were  crowned  with 
marveUous  success.  He  first  definitely  expelled  the  fabulous 
monsters  and  prodigies  of  which  the  encyclopsedists  had 
faithfdUy  handed  on  the  tradition  from  medissval  times, 
and,  like  his  predece^ssor  Morison,  classifying  in  a  truly 
modern  spirit  by  anatomical  characters,  he  succeeded, 
particularly  among  plants,  in  distinguishing  many  natural 
groups,  for  which  his  very  terms  sometimes  survive,  e.g., 
Dicotyledons  and  Monocotyledons,  TJmbeiliferae  and  Legu- 
miuosse.  The  true  precursor  of  Linn:eus,  he  introduced 
the  idea  of  species  in  natural  history,  afterwards  to  become 
so  rigid  and  reformed  the  practice  of  definition  and  termino- 
logy. Of  the  many  works  which  followed  up  Kay's 
sj-stematic  ar\d  monographic  labours,  though  often,  Uke 
those  of  Toiu-nefrrt  and  Eivinus,  Reaumur  and  Klein,  of 
great  importance,  none  can  be  even  named  until  we  come 
to" those  of  his  great  successor  LirmEEUs,  whose  extraordinary 
grasp  of  logical  method  and  unparalleled  lucidity  of  thought 
and  expression  enabled  him  to  reform  and  reorganize  the 
whole  labours  of  his  predecessors  into  a  compact  and 
definite  "systems  naturae."  The  very  genius  of  order, 
he  established  modern  taxonomy  (see  JjIology),  not  only 
by  the  introduction  of  the  binomial  nomenclature  and  the 
renovation  of  descriptive  terminology  and  method,  but 
by  the  subordination  of  the  species — henceforth  clearly 
defined — under  the  successive  higher  categories  of  genus, 
order,  and  class,  so  finally  reconciling  the  analytic  and 
synthetic  tendencies  of  his  predecessors.  Although  the 
classification  of  plants  by  the  number  of  their  essential 
organs  (which  vastly  advanced  not  only  the  cultivation  of 
botany  but  the  knowledge  of  the  flora  of  the  globe,  and 
by  which  he  is  popularly  remembered)  is  highly  artificial, 
it  must  be  remembered  that  this  artificiality  is  after  all 
only  a  question  of  degree,  and  that  he  not  only  distinctly 
recognized  its  provisional  character  but  collected  and  ex- 
tended those  fragments  of  the  natural  system  with  which 
Jussieu  soon  afterwards  commenced  to  build.  His  classi- 
fication of  animals,  too,  was  largely  natural,  and,  though 
on  the  whole  he  unfortunately  lent  his  authority  to  main- 
tain "  that  disastrous  philosophic  and  scientific  aberration  " 
inherited  from  the  alchemists  through  the  last  encyclopsedist 
of  Gesner's  school — the  notion  of  three  kingdoms  of  nature 
— he  at  least  at  one  time  discerned  the  fundamental  unity 
of  animals  and  vegetables,  and  united  them  in  opposition  to 
the  non-living  world  as  OrganisaUi.  At  the  same  time  he 
was  still  far  more  a  scholastic  naturalist  than  a  modern  in- 
vestigator, and  his  works  represent  little  more  than  the  full 
completion  of  the  ancient  era,  and  in  the  hands  of  fanatical 
followers  served  often  to  retard  the  commencement  of  the 


modem  one.  So,  too,  his  excesaive  systematic  and  descriptiyt 
precision,  united  as  it  was  with*  comparative  inattentioo 
to  other  than  superficial  characters,  established  a  tendency 
even  yet  not  extinct,  to  rest  contented  with  mere  method 
and  nomenclatm'e  instead  of  aiming  at  complete  morpho- 
logical knowledge. 

While  the  artificial  system  was  at  the  zenith  of  its  fame 
and  usefulness,  Bernard  de  Jussieu  was  arranging  his 
garden  on  the  lines  afforded  by  the  fragmentary  natural 
system  of  Linnaeus.  His  ideas  were  elaborated  by  hia 
nephew  and  successor  Antoine  de  Jussieu,  who  for  tha 
first  time  published  diagnoses  of  the  natural  orders,  so 
giving  the  system  its  modem  character.  Its  subsec^uent 
elaboration  and  definite  establishment  are  due  mainly  to 
the  labours  of  Pyrame  de  Candolle  and  Robert  Brown. 
The  former  concentrated  his  own  long  life  and  that  of  hia 
son  upon  a  new  "  systema  naturse,"  the  colossal  Prodromia 
systcmatis  naturcUis  (20  vols.,  1818-1873),  in  which  80,000 
species  were  described  and  arranged.  Meanwhile  the  pene- 
trative genius  of  Erovm  enabled  him  to  unravel  such  struc- 
tural complexities  as  those  of  Conifers  and  Cycads,  Orchids 
and  Proteacese,  thus  demonstrating  the  possibility  of  ascer- 
taining the  systematic  position  of  even  the  most  highly 
modified  floral  types.  Both  Candolle  and  Brown  were  thus 
no  mere  systematists,  but  genuine  morphoiogists  of  the 
modern  school.  The  former,  as  we  shall  afterwards  see, 
established  the  theory  of  floral  symmetry  on  grounds  of 
pure  comparative  anatomy,  and  distinguished  with  greater 
success  than  hitherto  between  fundamental  imity  of  struc- 
tural type  and  mere  superficial  similarity  of  physiological 
adaptation.  Ite  latter  (Humboldt's  "facile  princeps 
botanicorum  "),  using  the  same  ideas  with  even  keener  in- 
sight, made  many  memorable  anatomical  researches,  such 
as  those  on  the  structure  of  the  ovule  and  the  seed,  and 
indeed  by  his  demonstration  of  the  aflinities  of  the  gym- 
nosperms  almost  anticipated  the  discoveries  of  Hofmeister, 
who  stands  pre-eminent  among  his  modem  successors  on 
account  of  his  elucidation  of  the  seoref  of  phanerogamic 
reproduction. 

The  labours  of  Bernard  and  Antoine  de  Jussieu  initiated 
too  a  vast  parallel  advance  in  zoology,  the  joint  memoir 
on  the  classification  of  mammals  with  which  Cuvier  and 
Geoffrey  St-HUaire  almost  commenced  their  career  receiv- 
ing its  dominant  impulse  from  the  "  genera  "  of  Antoine. 
Cuvier's  works  correspond  in  zoology  to  those  of  the 
whole  period  from  the  Jussieus  to  Brown,  and  epitomize 
the  results  of  that  line  of  advance.  Although  in  some 
respects  preceded  by  Haller  and  Hunter,  who  compared, 
though  mainly  with  physiological  aim,  the  same  parts  in 
difierent  organisms,  and  much  more  distinctly  by  Vicq 
d'Azyr,  the  only  real  comparative  anatomist  of  the  1 8th  cen- 
tury, he  truly  opens  the  era  of  detailed  anatomical  research 
united  with  exact  comparison  and  clear  generalization. 
The  Segne  Animal  (1817)  and  the  theory  of  types  (verte- 
brate, moUuscan,  articulate,  and  radiate)  are  the  results  of 
this  union  of  analysis  and  synthesis  (although  he  himself, 
exasperated  by  the  aberrations  of  the  Naturphilosophie, 
was  accustomed  to  proclaim  the  importance  of  detailed 
empiricism  alone),  and  mark  the  reconstitution  of  taxonomy 
on  a  new  basis,  henceforth  to  be  no  longer  a  matter  of 
superficial  description  and  nomenclature  but  a  complete 
expression  of  structural  resemblances  and  diSerences.  More 
even  than  Linnaeus  he  is  the  founder  of  a  great  school, 
whose  names  and  labours  are  imperishable.  In  Germany, 
Bojanus,  Meckel,  Von  Siebold,  and  the  illustrious  Johannes 
Miiller,  with  his  many  living  pupils,  have  carried  on  the 
work ;  in  France,  too,  a  succession  of  brilliant  anatopiists, 
such  as  De  Quatrefages,  Milne -Edwards,  and  Lacaze- 
Duthiers,  are  his  intellectual  heirs  ;  and  in  Englatid  he  has 
been  admirably  represented  by  Owen. 


MORPHOLOGY 


839 


The  histological  moTeijient  inaugurated  by  Bichat  will 
be  subsequently  discussed ;  the  rise  of  embryology,  how- 
ever, may  be  briefly  noted,  especially  since  it  supplied  the 
most  obvious  deficiency  of  the  Cuvierian  school  Hero  the 
principal  figure  is  Von  Baer,  who  established  independently 
the  four  types  of  Cuvier  on  developmental  grounds,  so  for 
the  first  time  applying  embryology  as  the  touchstone  of 
anatomical  classifications,  besides  establishing  his  famous 
law  of  differentiation  from  a  general  towards  a  special  form. 

It  is  now  necessary  to  return  to  Liiinaeus,  whose  more 
speculative  -ivritings  contain,  though  encumbered  by  fan- 
tastic hypotheses,  the  idea  of  floral  metamorphosis  ("  Prin- 
cipium  flof um  et  foliorum  idem  est,"  <fec.).  About  the  same 
time,  and  quite  independently,  C.  F.  WolflF,  the  embryo- 
logist  stated  the  same  theory  T,'ith  greater  clearness,  for  the 
first  time  distinctly  reducing  the  plant  to  an  axis  bearing 
appendages — the  vegetative  leaves — which  become  meta- 
morphosed into  bud-scales  or  floral  parts  through  diminu- 
tion of  vegetative  force.  Thirty  years  later  the  same  view 
was  again  independently  developed  by  Goethe  in  his  now 
well-known  pamphlet  (Vo-such  die  Metamorphose  der 
FfMnzen  zu  erhlaren,  Gotha,  1790).  In  this  brilliant  essay 
the  doctrine  qf  the  fundamental  unity  of  floral  and  foliar 
parts  is  clearly  enunciated,  and  supported  by  argument? 
from  anatomy,  development,  and  teratology.  All  the 
organs  of  a  plant  are  thus  modifications  of  one  funda- 
mental organ — the  leaf — and  all  plants  are  in  Uke  manner 
to  be  viewed  as  modifications  of  a  common  type — the 
Urpflan:e.  The  controversy  as  to  the  merits  and  import- 
ance of  this  essay,  and  of  Goethe's  morphological  work  in 
general,  can  scarcely  be  entered  upon  here.  That  Goethe 
discerned  and  proclaimed,  and  that  more  clearly  than  any 
of  his  predecessors  or  contemporaries,  the  fundamental  idea 
of  all  morphology — the  imity  which  underlies  the  multi- 
farious varieties  of  organic  form — and  that  he  systematically 
applied  this  idea  to  the  interpretation  of  the  most  import- 
ant, most  complejt,  and  most  varied  animal  and  vegetable 
structures,  is  unquestionable.  The  difficulties  arise  when  we 
aeek  to  estimate  the  importance  of  his  works  in  the  chain  of 
progress,  and  when  we  inquire  whether,  as  some  historians 
hold,  his  "  urpflanze  "  was  a  mere  ideal  archetype,  bringing 
forth  as  its  fruit  the  innumerable  metaphysical  abstractions 
of  the  Naturphilosophie,  and  leading  lus  countrymen,  to 
their  fall,  into  all  the  extiavagances  of  that  system ;  or 
whether,  as  Haeckel  maintains,  it  represented  a  concrete  an- 
cestral form,  80  anticipating  the  view  of  modern  evolutionists. 
That  to  him  Schelling  was  largely  indebted  for  the  founda- 
tion upon  which  he  erected  hia  philosophic  edifice,  as  also 
that  Goethe  largely  shared  the  same  ideas,  is  unquestion- 
able ;  but  it  must  be  remembered  that  he  lived  and  made- 
progress  for  forty  years  after  the  publication  of  this  essay, 
that  he  was  fanuliar  with  the  whole  scientific  movement, 
and  warmly  sympathized  with  the  evolutionary  views  of 
Lamarck  and  Qeoflfroy  St-Hilaire ;  it  is  not  therefore  to 
be  wondered  at  that  his  writings  should  furnish  evidence 
in  favour  of  each  and  every  interpretation  of  them.  His 
other  morphological  labours  must  not  be  forgotten.  Inde- 
pendently of  Vicq  d'Azyr,  he  discovered  the  human  pre- 
maxiUary  bone  j  independently  of  Oken,  he  proposed  the 
vertebral  theory  of  the  skull ;  and  before  Savigny,  he  dis- 
cerned that  the  jaws  of  insects  were  the  limbs  of  the  head. 

In  1813  A.  P.  de  Candolle  published  his  TUorie  Ele- 
vienlaire  de  la  Botcmique,  which  he  developed  into  the  classic 
Organography  Vegetale  (1827).  Although  at  first  unac- 
quainted with  Goethe's  essay,  and  not  clearly  discerning  the 
homology  of  leaves  and  floral  parts,  he  established  his 
theory  of  symmetry,  reducing  all  flowers  to  "  synmetrical " 
groupings  of  appendages  on  an  axis  and  accounting  for 
Mieir  various  forms  by  cohesion  and  adhesion,  by  arrested  or 
•Keeidve  development.     The  next  great  advance  was  the 


investigation  by  Schimper  and  Braun  of  phyllotaxU-^iko 
ascending  spiral  arrangement  of  foliar  and  floral  organs — 
thus  further  demonstrating  their  essential  unity. 

The  term  morphology  was  first  introduced  by  Ooelhe 
in  1817,  in  a  subsequent  essay  {Zur  Naturvmteruchaft 
uberliav.pt,  besonders  sur  Morphologie).  It  did  not  come 
into  use  in  botany  until  its  popularization  by  Augtiste  do 
St-Hilaire  in  his  admirable  Morphologie  V'egetale  (1841), 
and  in  zoology  until  later,  although  De  Blainville,  who 
also  first  employed  the  term  type,  had  treated  the  external 
forms  of  animals  under  "morphologie."  Though  the  Na- 
turphilosophie of  Schelling  and  its  countless  modifications 
by  his  followers,  its  mystic  theories  of  "  polarization  "  and 
the  like,  its  apparatus  of  assumption  and  abstraction,  hy- 
pothesis and  metaphor,  cannot  here  be  discussed,  its  un- 
doubted services  must  not  be  forgotten,  since  it  not  only 
stimulated  innumerable  reflective  minds  to  the  earnest 
study  of  natural  science,  but,  by  its  incessant  proclamation 
of  the  unity  o£  nature  and  the  free  use  of  Platonic  arche- 
types, gave  a  most  powerful  impulse  to  the  study  of  com- 
parative anatomy,  and  nobly  vindicated  the  claims  of  philo- 
sophic synthesis  over  those  of  merely  analytic  empiricism. 
Among  its  many  adherents,  some  are  of  more  distinctly 
theological  type,  others  metaphysical,  others  mystical  or 
poetiCj  others,  again,  more  e^ecially  scientific ;  but  its 
most  typical  and  picturesque  figure  is  Lorenz  Oken,  who 
epitomizes  alike  the  best  and  the  worst  features  of  the 
school,  and  among  whose  innumerable  pseudo- morpholo- 
gical dreams  there  occasionally  occurred  suggestions  of  the 
greatest  fruitfulness, — notably,  for  instance,  the  independ- 
ent statement  of  the  vertebral  theory  of  the  skulL 

Although  Lamarck  shared  in  this  tfiOvetuent^  his  great 
work  (the  Philosophie  Zoologique,  1809),  being  setiolo- 
gical  rather  than  morphological,  scarcely  claims  discussion 
here.  By  far  the  most  distinguished  anatomist  of  the 
transcendental  school  is  Geoffroy  St-Hilaire,  who  being 
comparatively  free  from  the  extravagances  of  Oken,  and 
uniting  a  depth  of  morphological  insight  scarcely  inferior 
to  that  of  Goethe  with  greater  knowledge  of  facts  and  far 
wider  influence  and  reputation  in  the  scientific  world  (which 
affected  to  sneer  at  the  poet  as  necessarily  a  mere  amateur), 
had  enormously  greater  influence  on  the  progress  of  science 
than  either.  He  started  from  the  same  studies  of  anatomi- 
cal detail  as  Cuvier,  but,  profoundly  influenced  by  Bufibn's 
view  of  unity  of  plan  and  by  the  evolutionary  doctrines 
of  Lamarck,  he  rapidly  diverged  into  new  lines,  and  again 
reached  that  idea  of  serial  homology  of  which  we  have 
so  frequently  noted  the  independent  origin.  His  greatest 
work,  the  Philosophie  Anatomique  (1818-1823),  contains  his 
principal  doctrines.  These  are — (1)  the  theory  of  unity  of 
organic  composition,  ideiitical  in  spirit  with  that  of  Goethe ; 
(2)  the  theory  of  analogues,  according  to  which  the  same 
parts,  differing  only  in  form  and  in  degree  of  development, 
should  occur  in  all  animals ;  (3)  the  "  principe  des  con- 
nexions," by  which  similar  parts  occur  everywhere  in  similar 
relative  positions ;  and  (4)  the  "  principe  du  balancement 
des  organes,"  upon  which  he  founded  the  study  of  tera- 
tology, and  according  to  which  the  high  development  of  one 
organ  is  allied  to  diminution  of  another.  The  advance  in 
morphological  theory  is  here  obvious  ;  unfortunately,  how- 
ever, in  eager  pursuit  of  often  deceptive  homologies,  he 
wandered  into  the  transcendentalism  of  the  Naturphilo- 
sophie, and  seems  utterly  to  have  failed  to  appreciate  either 
the  type  theory  of  Cuvier  or  the  discoveries  of  Von  Baer. 
He  earnestly  defended  Buffon's  and  Bonnet's  earlier  view 
of  unity  of  plan  in  nature ;  and  the  controversy  reached 
its  climax  in  1830,  when  he  maintained  the  unity  of 
structure  in  Cephalopods  and  Vertebrates  against  Cuvier 
before  the  Academy  of  Sciences.  On  the  point  of  fact 
he  was  of  coune  utterly  defeated  j  the  type  theory  was 


840 


MORPHOLOGY 


thenceforw.ird  folly  accepted  and  the  Naturphilosophie 
received  its  deathblow,  while  a  "  second  empiric  period  " 
of  exiict  aiialomical  and  embryological  research  seemed 
for  ever  to  replace  it.  Such  was  the  popular  view  ;  only 
a  few,  like  the  aged  Goethe,  whose  last  literary  effort  was 
a  masterly  critique  of  the  controversy,  discerned  that  the 
very  reverse  interpretation  was  the  deeper  and  essential 
one,  that  a  veritable  "  scientific  revolution "  was  in  pro- 
gress, and  that  the  supremacy  of  homological  and  synthetic 
over  descriptive  and  analytic  studies  was  thenceforward 
assured.  The  irreconcilablfe  feud  between  the  two  leaders 
really  involved  a  reconciliation  for  their  followers  ;  theories 
of  homological  anatomy  had  thenceforward  to  be  strietly 
subjected  to  anatomical  and  embryological  verification, 
whUe  anatomy  and  embryology  acquired  a  homological 
aim.  This  union  of  the  solid  matter  and  rigorous  method 
of  Cuvier  with  the  generalizing  spirit  and  philosophic 
aims  of  Geotfroy  is  well  illustrated  in  the  works  of  Owen ; 
and,  in  short,  the  so-called  Cuvierian  school  ia  in  reality 
thenceforward  also  Geoffroyan. 

The  further  evolution  of  the  idea  of  homology  is  sketched 
below  (§  7),  while  the  extent  and  rai^idity  of  the  subsequent 
progress  of  the  knowledge  of  all  the  structural  aspects  of 
plants  and  animals  alike  make  an  historical  survey  impos- 
sible up  to  the  appearance  of  the  Origin  of  Spea.es  (1859) ; 
however,  no  further  qimlitative  advance  was  possible,  since, 
as  Sachs  has  best  pointed  out,  morphology  necessai'ily 
contains,  under  the  Linnsean  dogma  of  the  constancy  of 
species,  the  same  two  inconsistent  and  irreconcilable  lines 
of  thought  which  we  saw  represented  by  Csesalpinus  and 
the  early  German  botanists  respectively. — on  onje  side  the 
want  of  strictly  scientific  classification,  and  on  the  other 
the  vaguely-felt  existence  of  a  natiu^  relationship.  Strict 
classification  of  forms  supposed  constant  excludes  in  fact  any 
natwal  relationship.  The  type,  theory,  the  theory  of  unity 
of  organic  composition,  and- the  like,  are  susceptible  indeed 
of  two  explanations — they  may  be  regarded  as  either  ex- 
pressing a  creative  plan,  or  taken  as  piu-ely  Platonic 
and  archetypal  ideas.  Both  are  tenable  on  theological 
and  metapliysical  grounds  respectively,  but  the  fact  must 
not  be  disguised  that  of  this  unity  of  type  no  explanation 
in  the  least  degree  scientific,  i.e.,  in  terms  of  the  pheno- 
mena of  the  natural  world,  does  or  can  exist.  The  need- 
ful solution  was  effected  by  Darwin.  The  "urpflanze"  of 
Goethe,  the  types  of  Cuvier,  and  the  like,  at  once  became 
intelligible  as  schematic  representations  of  ancestral  organ- 
isms, which,  in  various  and  varying  environments,  have 
undergone  difi'erentiatiou  into  the  vast  multitude  of  exist- 
ing forms.  All  the  enigmas  of  structure  become  resolved  ; 
"representative"  and  "aberrant,"  "progressive"  and 
"degraded,"  "synthetic"  and  "isolated,"  "persistent" 
and  "  prophetic  "  types  no  longer  baffle  comprehension ; 
conformity  to  type  represented  by  differentiated  or  rudi- 
mentary organs  in  one  organism  is  no  longer  contradicted 
by  their  entire  disappearance  in  its  near  allies,  while 
systematist  and  morphologist  become  related  simply  as 
specialist  and  generalizer,  all  through  this  escape  from  the 
Linn^an  dogma  of  the  fixity  of  species.  The  phenomena 
of  individual  develojinient  receive  interpretation  in  terms 
of  ancestral  history ;  and  embryology  thus  becomes  divided 
into  ontogeny  and  ])hylogeny,  the  latter,  too,  coming  into 
intimate  relation  with  pala>ontology,  while  classification 
seeks  henceforth  the  reconstruction  of  the  genealogical 
tree.  All  these  results  were  clearly  developed  in  the  most 
important  work  of  the  new  period,  Haeckel's  GenerclU 
Morphologic  (1866),  while  the  valuable  contemporaneous 
Principles  of  Biology  of  Herbert  Spencer  also  gave  special 
attention  to  the  relation  of  morphology  to  physiology.' 


*  Fo»  bibliography  «ee  Cania,  QiaehichU  der  Zoologii  ;  S.ichs,  Qcs- 


§  2.  JterulU. — Though  the  preceding  is  but  *  meagre 
outline  of  the  rise  and  progress  of  the  science,  no  corre- 
sponding sketch  of  its  results  can  be  here  attempted.  A 
description  of  the  refined  applications  of  the  doctrine  of 
floral  metamorphosis,  an  inquiry  into  the  morphology  of 
the  Cryptogams,  or  an  account  of  such  beautiful  homo- 
logies as  those  presented  by  the  Arthropods  or  the  Echino- 
derms  is  alike  impossible ; .  least  of  all  can  we  consider 
the  splendid  simpliiScation  of  the  supremely  complex  prob- 
lem of  vertebrate  structure  by  the  elaboration  of  a  new 
theory  of  the  skull,  and  by  such  luminous  discoveries  as 
those  of  the  segmental  organs,  or  of  the  origin  and  homo- 
logies of  the  spinal  and  cranial  nerves.  For  these  organo- 
logical  conceptions  the  reader  must  study  such  articles. as 
those  on  Amphibia,  Birds,  Hydkozoa,  Mollusca,  iSrc, 
and  such  works  as  those  of  Huxley,  Gegenbaur  and 
Haeckel,  Balfour  and  Parker,  Payer,  Eichler,  or  Asa  Gray, 
and  (provided  with  the  needfal  bibliographical  equipment 
afforded  by  the  various  "  Jahresberichle  "  and  the  kindred 
English  publications)  must  indeed  also  plunge  into  the 
current  literature  of  the  science.  And  there  too  must  be 
sought  the  innumerable  attempts  at  taxonomic  synthesis 
which  such  organological  progress  is  constantly  originating 
(see  Akimal  Kingdom,  Biology,  vol.  iii.  p.  690  sq.,  and 
Vegetable  Kingdom).  Embryological  generalizations, 
such  as  Haeckel's  "  gastraea  theory,"  Lankester's  rival  "  pla- 
nula  theory,"  or  the  ingenious  "  ccelome  theory  "  of  Hert- 
wig,  have  been  recently  thoroughly  criticized  in  Balfour's 
Embryology.  The  present  article  will  be  confined  to  a 
brief  discussion  of  a  few  main  problems,  commencing  w-lth 
the  cell  theory  aiid  the  problem  of  organic  individuality 
—these  being  seleoted  partly  because  of  their  special  iUus- 
trativeness  and  intrinsic  importance,  partly  because  they 
.have  somewhat  less  recently  been  summarized. 

§  3.  Histology — Cell  r/icory. —Altiiough  the  application  of  tha 
simple  microscope  to  the  minute  structure  of  plants  and  animals 
had  been  iu  progress  since  the  end  of  the  17th  century,  the  rise  of 
modern  histology  really  dates  from  the  Aiuxiomie  Geniralc  (1801J 
of  Bichat,  which  analyses  the  organism  into  a  series  of  simple 
tissues  with  definite  stmctural  characters.  This  new  impulse, 
together  with  the  improvement  of  optical  appliances,  led  to  much 
further  research.  "Fibres"  and  "globules,"  "laminae"  and 
"nuclei,"  were  desci-ibed,  and  even  "cells"  by  Mirbel  in  1806, 
and  in  1835  Johannes  Miiller  pointed  out  tlie  existence  of  cells 
resembltng  those  of  plants  in  the  vertebrate  notochord.  The  cellu- 
lar and  nucleated  sti^ucture  of  epidermis  and  other  tissues  was  soon 
demonstrated,  while  Robert  Brovu  discovered  the  nucleus  of  thft 
vegetable  cell.  In  1833  Schleiden  referred  all  vegetable  tissues  to 
the  cellular  type,  and  traced  back  the  plant  embryo  to  a  single 
nucleated  cell,  while  in  1839  Schwann  boldly  extended  this  con- 
ception of  plant  sti'ucture  and  development  to  the  animal  world, 
and  so  fully  constituted  the  "cell  theory." 

SchA^-ann's  cells  were  essentially  nucleated  vesicles  with  fluid 
contents  which  originated  in  an  intracellular  substance  ;  but  thia 
view  was  soon  abandoned.  Dujai-diu  had  discovered  that  the  bodies 
of  Foraminifera  were  composed  of  a  viscous  gianular  contractile 
sarcode,  and  Ton  Mohl  described  independently  iu  similar  terms 
tlie  contents  of  the  vegetable  cell  as  protoplasm.  This  was  identi- 
fied by  Max  Schultzo  as  Dujardin's  sarcode,  the  newer  name  sur- 
viving ;  and  this  living  matter,  and  not  the  membi-anc,  he  showed 
to  be  the  essential  constituent  of  the  cell,  since  which  his  amended 
definition  of  the  cell  as  a  unit-mass  of  nucleated  protoplasm  has 
been  generally  accepted.  Prevost  and  Dumas  had  noticed  th« 
segmentation  of  the  ovum  into  misses  as  early  as  1824,  and  these 
were  naturally  identified  as  cells  innnediately  after  the  publication 
of  Schwann's  work.  In  1846  Kdllikcr  showed  that  all  tissues  aiisa 
from  these  segmentation  masses,  and  that  the  multiplication  of 
animal  and  vegetable  cells  takes  place  by  a  continuation  of  th« 
same  piocess, — that  of  tiansverse  division  already  obser\'ed  in  th'« 
Protozoa. 

These  points  gained,  the  attention  of  liistologists  was  withdrawn 
for  a  considerable  time  from  the  scrutiny  of  the  minute  structur* 
of  the  cell  itself  to  be  concentrated  on  tlie  modes  of  origin  of  these 
unit-masses,  and  their  subsequent  ditTerentiatiou  and  aggregation 
into  tissues  and  organs.     The  minute  structure  and  histogenesis  of 


thichu  d.  Botanik  ;  Cuvier,  HUt.  d.  Set. ;  Is.  G.  St-Hilaire,  UiiL  Kat: 
Gen.:  Masters  •in  Mld.-CluT.  Rev.,  1658,  So.;  also  articles  GoETHK, 

LISM.KDS,  OUSS,  &C 


M  O  R  P  H  O  L  O  G  Y 


841 


plants,  as  well  aa  of  at  least  the  higher  animals,  hare  been  stndied 
with  much  and  over-increasing  accuracy  of  detail.  (See  Ana- 
tomy, Histology,  Embryoloot.)  Both  vegetable  and  animal 
tissues  hare  been  simply  classified  both  according  to  their  adult 
fonns  and  according  to  the  embryonic  layers  from  which  they 
respectively  arise.  This  eorutiny  of  plant  and  animal  structure 
over  and  above  the  special  generalizations  of  the  botanist  and  the 
zoologist  has  afforded  much  result  to  general  histology.  The 
improvement  of  technical  methods'  has  of  late  years  largely  aided 
the  progress  of  discoYcry.     A  return  from  the  study  ol  the  cell- 

Xgate  to  that  of  the  cell  has  commenced,  and  the  qneetipn  of 
tructure  may  be  said  to  be  again  paramount  in  histology.  The 
process  of  transverse  division  has  of  late  been  much  elucidated, 
and,  although  its  complex  details  cannot  her«  be  entered  npoo, 
the  result  has  been  to  establish  a  minute  and  thorough  correspond- 
ence in  cases  so  widely  dissimilar  as  pollen-grains  from  a  flower-bud, 
the  epidermis  of  a  tadpole,  or  the  cells  of  a  tumour — a  result  which 
©bvioualy  enhances  tne  morphological  completeness  of  the  cell 
theory.  Minor  modes  of  cell-multiplication  also  are  not  without 
their  morphological  interest.  Gemmation,  familiar  in  the  yeast 
plant,  occurs  in  other  low  and  simple  organisms,  and  may  probably 
06  identified  with  the  formation  of  polar  vesicles  in  ova  as  a  modi- 
fication of  transverse  division.  Schleiden  had  supposed  all  new 
cells  to  originate  within  pre-existing  cells,  and  this  process,  known 
as  free -cell-formation,  may  really  be  observed  in  various  plant 
and  animal  tissues.  The  protoplasm  groups  itself  round  new  nuclei, 
the  new  cells  being  in  fact  formed  much  as  Schwann  bad  in  his 
turn  8upp(wed  ;  but  these  nuclei  have  repeatedly  been  shown  to 
arise  from  segmentation  of  the  original  nucleus,  and  thus  this  pro* 
cess  too  seems  a  mere  modification  of  the  general  one  of  transverse 
division.  Conjugation,  too — that  coalescence  of  two  similar  cells 
which  may  be  observed  in  .many  Algae,  Fungi,  and  Protozoa — is  to 
be  considered  as  the  undifferentiated  form  of  that  fertilization  which 
occurs  in  higher  animals  and  plants,  the  two  apparently  similar 
masses  having  become  respectively  differentiated  into  ovum  and 
spermatozoon,  or  into  eg^-cell  and  antherozoid.  An  indefinite 
number  of  amoeboid  cells,  sometimes  flow  together  into  a  single 
mass, — a  phenomenon  regatded  by  some  as  multiple-conjugation, 
or  perhaps  more  probably  as  an  almost  mechanical  coalescence  of 
exhausted  cells,  from  which  conjugation  proper  and  finally  fertili- 
zation may  indeed  have  originated.  The  amoeboid  cells  of  higher 
animals  similarly  unite  when  drawn,  and  this  formation  of  plas' 
modia,  as  these  are  termed,  seems  to  be  a  deep-seated  property  of 
the  amoeboid  celL  Similarly,  too,  the  process  of  rejuvenescence 
which  occurs  in  many  of  the  lowest  plants  and  animals,  such  as 
Protococcus  and  Amoeba,  where  the  protoplasm  passes  from  a  rest- 
ing and  encysted  to  a  naked  and  mobile  stage,  has  many  analogues 
not  only  among  the  Protista  but  even  in  the  tissues  of  higher 
animals,  while  the  phases  which  the  lowest  organisms  more  or  less 
fxhibit— the  encysted,  the  ciliated,  the  amoeboid,  and  the  plasmo- 
dtal — may  be  regarded  as  the  fundamental  forms  of  a  "life-cycle," 
fully  represented  indeed  only  in  euch  extremely  low  organisms  as 
Protomyxa  and  Myxomycetes,  yet  nowhere  completely  suppressed. 
The  very  highest  plants  and  animals  may  thus  be  considered  as 
aggregates,  of  more  or  less  differentiated  and  variously  arranged 
encysted,  ajnceboid,  and  ciliated  cells,  while  their  development 
and  subsequent  changes,  their  variations  normal  and  pathological, 
in  reality  exhibit  phases  more  or  less  distinct  of  the  ancestral  life- 
cycle. 

The  examination  of  the  precise  modes  of  cell-division,  particularly 
in  the  hands  of  botanists  (see  Biology,  and  summary  in  Sachj^'s 
Vorksungen  Ubcr  PJlanzcn  Physiologic,  1883),  are  also  constantly 
throwing  the  most  interesting  light  upon  the  structure  of  the  adult 
organism.  Thus  then,  in  our  own  day  as  in  those  of  Bichat  or 
Schwann,  the  labours  of  the  hiatologist,  when  inspired  by  higher 
aims  than  that  of  the  mere  multiplication  of  descriptive  detail,  are 
of  supreme  morphological  importance,  and  result  in  the  demonstra- 
tion of  a  unity  of  organic  structure  deeper  even  than  any  which  we 
owe  to  Linnaeus  or  Cuvier,  Goethe  or  Geofiroy^ 

§  4.  Individuality. —ViohdhXy  no  subject  in  the  whole  range  of 
biology  has  been  more  extensively  discussed  than  that  of  the  nature 
of  organic  inJi\nduality.  The  history  of  the  controversy  is  of 
interest,  since  besides  leading  up  to  solid  results  it  sen-es,  perhaps 
better  than  any  other  case,  to  iilustrate  the  slow  emergence  of  the 
natural  sciences  from  the  influence  of  scholastic  thought  Storting 
from  the  obvious  unity  and  indivisiblenessof  Man  and  other  higher 
animals,  and  adopting  some  definition  such  as  that  of  Mirbel 
(exceptionally  unmetaphysical,  however),  "Tout  6tre  organise, 
complet  dans  ses  parties,  distinct  et  separe  des  autres  etres,  est  un 
individu,"  it  was  attempted  times  -without  number  to  discover  the 
same  conception  elsewhere  in  nature,  or  rather  to  impose  it  upon 
all  other  beings,  plants  and  animals  alike.  The  results  of  different  I 
inquirers  were  of  course  utterly  discrepant.-  It  seemed  easy  and 
natural  to  identify  a  tree  or  herb  corresponding  to  the  individual 
animal,  yet  difficulties  at  once  arose.  Many  apparently  distinct 
plants  may  arise  from  a  commou  root,  or  a  single  plant  may  be 
decomposed  into  branches,  twigs,  shoota,  buds,  or  ev^n  leaves,  &U 


often  capable  of  separate  existence.  These,  again,  are  d«compO0- 
able  into  tissues  and  cells;  the  cells  into  nucleus,  &c.,  and  ultimately 
into  protoplasmic  molecules,  these  finally  into  atoms, — the  inquiry 
thus  passing  outside  organic  nature  altogether  and  meeting  the  olil 
dispute  as  to  the  ultimata  divisibility  of  matter.  In  ^ort,  as 
Haeckel  remarks,  scarcely  any  part  of  the  plant  can  be  named 
which  has  not  been  taken  by  some  one  for  the  individual.  It  is 
necessary,  therefore,  briefly  to  notice  some  of  the  principal  works 
on  the  subject,  and  these  may  conveniently  be  taken  in  descending 
order. 

While  Cassim  practically  agreed  with  Mirbel  in  attempting  to 
regard  separate  plants  as  individuals,  the  widest  interpretation  of 
the  individual  is  that  of  Gallesio  (1816),  who  proposea  to  regard 
as  an  individual  the  entire  product  of  a  single  seed,  alike  whether 
this  developed  into  a  uni-ajoal  plant  extended  continuously  like  a 
Banyan,  or  multiplied  aseiually  by  natural  or  artificial  means  like 
the  Weeping-willow  or  the  Canadian  Pondweed,  of  each  of  which, 
on  this  view,  there  is  only  a  sin^e  individual  in  Britain,  happily 
discontinuous. 

At  once  the  oldest  and  most  frequently  maintained  view  is  that 
which  regards  the  bud  or  shoot  consisting  of  a  single  axia  with 
appendages  as  the  plant-individual,  of  which  the  tree  represents  a 
colony,  like  a  branched  hydroid  Polyp.  This  conception,  often 
attributed  to  Aristotle,  but  apparently  without  foundation,  appears 
distinctly  in  the  writings  of  Hippocrates  and  Theophrastus, — the 
latter  saying,  "The  bud  grows  on  the  tree  like  a  plant  in  the  ground." 
The  aphorism  of  Linnaus,  "Gemmae  totidem  herba,"  is  wellknown ; 
and  in  this  view  C.  F.  Wolff  and  Humboldt  concurred,  while 
Erasmus  Darwin  supported  it  by  an  appeal  to  the  facts  of  anatomy 
and  development.  Tne  most  influential  advocate  of  the  bud  theory 
during  th^  first  half  of  the  present  century  was,  however,  Du  Petit- 
Thouars,  who,  although  starting  much  as  usual  with  a  "principe 
unique  d'existence, "  supported  his  theory  on  extensive  though 
largely  incorrect  observations  on  stem  structure  and  growth.  Fw: 
him  the  tree  is  a  colony  ofphyi^nSf  each  being  a  bud  with  its  axillant 
leaf  and  fraction  of  the  stem  and  root.  Passing  ovei  numerous 
minor  authors,  we  come  to  the  central  work  of  Alex.  Braun  (1853), 
in  which,  as  Sachs  has  clearly  pointed  out,  the  illegitimate  com- 
bination of  Naturphilosophie  with  inductive  morphology  reaches 
its  extreme.  He  reviews,  however,  all  preceding  theories,  admits 
the  difficulty  of  fixing  upon  any  as  final,  since  the  plant,  physio- 
logically considered,  is  rather  a  divi^uum  than  an  individmnn ,  and 
proposes  as  a  compromise,  or  indeed  as  a  partial  cutting  of  the 
knot,  the  adoption  of  the  shoot  as  the  morphological  individual, 
comparable  to  an  animal,  esi>ocialIy  because,  unlike  the  cell,  leaf, 
&c.,  it  includes  all  the  representative  characters  of  the  species. 
Darv.in  and  Spencer  on  the  whole  also  accept  the  bud  or  shoot  as 
at  any  rate  the  most  definite  individual. 

The  theory  of  metamorphosis  naturally  led  Goethe,  Oken,  and 
others  to  regard  the  leaf  as  the  individual,  while  Johannes  Mullei; 
Steenstrup,  and  others  adopted  the  same  view  on  various  physio- 
logical grounds.  Gaudichaud  elaborated  a  theory  intermediate 
between  this  view  and  that  of  Du  Petit-Thouars,  according  to  which 
the  plant  was  built  up  of  individuals,  each  consisting  of  a  leaf  ^vith 
its  subjacent  intemode  of  stem,  which  was  regarded  as  the  leaf-base, 
and  this  was  supported  by  Edwai*d  Forbes  and  others,  while  the 
nominally  converse  view — that  of  the  leaf  as  a  mere  outward  ex- 
pansion of  the  stem-segment — was  proposed  by  Hochstetter, 

Though  sundry  attempts  at  identifying  various  tissues,  such  aa 
the  fibro-vascular  bundles,  as  the  constituent  individuals  may  b^ 
passed  over,  those  associated  with  the  ceU  theory  are  of  great 
importance.  Schwann  decided  in  favour  of  the  cell  and  Regarded 
the  plant  as  a  cell -community,  in  which  the  separate  elements  were 
like  the  bees  of  a  swarm, — a  view  virtually  concurred  in  in  all 
essential  respects  by  Schleiden,  Virchow,  and  other  founders  of  the 
cell  theory.  Yet,  although  the  structure  and  functions  of  the  plant 
are  ultimately  and  exclusively  cellular,  it  is  impossible  to  ignore 
the  fact  that,  save  in  the  very  lowest  organisms,  these  are  subordi- 
nated and  differentiated  into  larger  aggregates,  and  form  virtually 
but  the  bricks  of  a  building,  and  hence  the  later  theories  outlined 
above.  Of  attempts  to  find  the  individual  iu  the  nucleus  or  the 
protoplasm  granules  it  is  of  course  unnecessary  to  speak  further. 

So  far  the  theories  of  absolute  individuality.  The  conception  of 
relative  individuality  is  well  traced  by  Fisch  upwards  from  the 
more  or  less  vague  suggestions  in  the  writings  of  Goethe,  Roeper, 
and  the  elder  De  Candolle  to  its  clear  expression  in  Alphonse  de 
Candolle  and  Schleiden,  both  of  whom  take  the  cell,  the  shoot,  and 
the  multi-axial  plant  as  forming  three  successive  and  subordinated 
categories.  Nageli  too  recognized  not  only  the  necessity  of  establish- 
ing such  a  series  (cell,  organ,  bud,  lealy  axis,  multi-axial  plant) 
but  the  distinction  between  morphological  and  physiological  in- 
dividualities afterwards  enunciated  by  Haeckel, 

Passing  over  the  difficulties  which  arise  even  among  the  Protozoa 
(see  ForahinifeKa),  we  find  that  a  similar  controversy  (fully 
chronicled  in  Haeckel's  Kalkschw&mnu)  has  raged  over  the  in- 
dividually of  Sponges.  While  the  older  obsarvers  were  content  to 
regard  each  sponge-maas  as  an  individual,  a  view  in  which  Liebe*kuhn 
XVI.  —  io6 


842 


MORPHOLOGY 


and  other  jnonographere  substantially  concurred,  tte  application  of 
the  microscoiw  led  to  the  view  suggested  by  James  Clark,  and  still 
stoutly  supported  by  Saville  Kent,  that  the  Spongo  is  a  city  of 
amceboid  or  infusorian  individuals.  Carter  looked  upon  the  separate 
ampullaceous  sacs  as  the  true  individuals,  while  Schmidt,  defining 
tlic  individual  by  the  possession  of  a  single  exhalent  aperture,  dis- 
tin-niishes  Sponges  into  solitary  and  social.  Later,  however,  he 
terms  them  2oa  impersoTialia. 

For  the  higher  animals  the  problem,  though  perhaps  really  even 
Eioro  difficult,  is  less  prominent.  As  Haeckel  points  out,  the  earlier 
discussions  and  even  the  comparatively  late  essay  of  Johannes 
Mullcr  take  an  almost  purely  psychological  or  at  least  a  physiological 
point  of  view  ;  and  the  morphological  aspect  of  the  inquiry  only 
came  forward  when  the  study  of  much  lower  forms,  such  as  Cestoid 
"VVonns  (see  Plaia^helminthes)  or  Siphonophorcs  (see  Htdrozoa), 
had  raised  the  difiiculties  with  which  botanists  had  so  long  been 
familiar.  "With  the  rapid  progress  of  embryology,  too,  arose  new 
problems;  and  in  1S42  Steenstrup  introduced  the  conception  of  an 
' '  alternation  of  generations"  as  a  mode  of  origin  of  distinct  individuals 
by  two  methods,  for  him  fundamentally  similar,  the  sexual  from  im- 
pregnated females  and  the  asexual  from  unimpregnated  "nurses," — 
a  view  adopted  by  Edward  Forbes  and  many  other  naturalists,  but 
keenly  criticized  by  Carpenter  and  Huxley.  In  Lcuckart's  remark- 
able essay  on  polymorphism  (1853)  the  Siphonophora  were  analysed 
into  colonies,  and  their  varied  organs  shovrn  to  be  morphologically 
equivalent,  while  the  alternate  generations  of  Steenstrup  were 
reduced  to  a  case  of  polymorphism  in  development.  Leuckart 
further  partly  distinguished  individuals  of  different  orders,  as  well 
as  between  morphological  and  physiological  individuals. 

In  1852  Huxley  proposed  the  view  which  he  still  substanbially 
maintains  (see  Biology).  Starting  from  such  an  undoubted  homo- 
logy as  that  of  the  egg-producing  prpcess  of  Hydra  with  a  free- 
swimming  Medusoid,  he  points  out  that  the  title  of  individual,  if 
applied  to  the  latter,  must  logically  be  due  to  the  former  also,  and 
avoids  this  confusion  between  organ  and  individual  by  defining  the 
individual  animal,  as  Gallesio  had  done  the  plant,  as  the  entire 

Sroduct  of  an  impregnated  ovum, — the  swarm  of  Aphides  or  free 
[edusae  which  ia  this  way  might  belong  to  a  single  individual  being 
tenired  Zooids. 

In  Carus's  System  of  Animal  Morphology  (1853)  another  theory 
was  propounded,  but  the  problem  then  seems  to  have  fallen  into 
abeyance  until  1865,  when  it'forrned  the  subject  of  a  prolonged  and 
fruitful  discussion  in  the  Principles  of  Biology.  Adopting  the  cell 
(defined  as  an  aggregate  of  the  lowest  order,  itself  formed  of  physio- 
logical units)  as  the  morphological  unit,  Spencer  points  out  that 
tliese  may  either  exist  independently,  or  gradually  exhibit  unions 
into  aggregates  of  the  second  order,  like  the  lower  Algie,  of  which 
the  individuality  may  bo  more  or  less  pronounced.  The  union  of 
such  secondary  aggregates  or  compound  units  into  individuals  of  a 
yet  higher  order  is  then  traced  through  such  intermediate  forms  as 
are  represented  by  the  higher  seaweeds  or  the  Liverworts,  from  the 
thallus  of  which  the  axes  and  appendages  of  Monocotyledons  and 
Dicotyledons  are  ingeniously  derived.  The  shoot  of  a  flowering- 
plant  is  thus  an  ag^egate  of  the  third  order  ;  it  branches  into  an 
aggregate  of  the  lourth  or  higher  order,  and  finally  as  a  tree 
"acquires  a  degree  of  composition  too  complex  to  be  any  longer 
defined."  Proceeding  to  animals,  the  same  method  is  applied. 
The  Protozoa  are  aggregates  of  the  first  order.  These,  like  plants, 
exhibit  transitions,  of  which  Radiolarians,  Foraminifera,  and 
Sponges  are  taken  as  examples,  to  such  definite  compound  wholes 
as  Hydra  ;  and  such  secondary  aggregates  multiply  by  gemmation 
into  permanent  aggregates  of  the  third  order^  which  may  exhibit 
ail  degrees  of  integration  up  to  that  of  the  Siphonophora,  where 
the  individualities  of  the  Polyps  are  almost  lost  in  that  of  the 
aggregate  form.  The  whole  series  of  articulated  animals  are  next 
interpreted  as  more  or  less  integrated  aggregates  of  the  third  order, 
of  which  the  lower  Annelids  are  the  less  developed  forms,  the 
Arthropods  the  more  highly  integrated  and  indi^-idualizedt  Molluscs 
and  Vertebrates  are  regarded  as  aggregates  of  the  second  order. 

In  1866  appeared  the  latest  morphological  filassic,  the  GenerUlc 
Mcrpliologie  of  Haeckd.  Here  pure  morphology  is  distinguished 
into  two  sub-sciences, — the  first  purely  structural,  Udology,  which 
regards  the  organism  as  composed  of  organic  individuals  of  difierent 
orders  ;  the  second  essentially  stereometric,  promorpkology.  To 
tectology,  defined  as  the  science  of  organic  individuality,  a  large 
section  of  the  work  is  devoted.  Dismissing  the  theory  of  absolute 
individuality  as  a  metaphysical  figment,  and  starting  from  the 
view  of  Schleiden,  De  CandoUe,  and  Nageli  of  several  successive 
categories  of  relative  individuals,  he  distinguishes  more  clearly  than 
heretofore  the  physiological  individual  (or  Hon),  characterized  by 
definitcness  and  independence  of  function,  from  the  morphological 
individual  (or  morphon),  characterized  similarly  by  definiteness  of 
form  ;  of  the  latter  he  establishes  six  categories,  as  follows : — 

1.  Plastitks  (cvtodes  and  colls),  or  elementary  organisms. 

2.  Organs  (cell-stocks  or  cell-fusions),  simple  or  nomoplaatic  or- 

pans  (tissues),  or  hetoroplaatic  organs.    Organ -systems,  organ- 
apparatuses. 


3.  Antivxercs  (opposite  or  eymmctrical  or  homotypic  parts),  e.g., 

rays  of  radiate  animals,  *'  halves  of  bilaterally  sytnmetxicBl 
animals." 

4.  Mctameres  (successive  or  homodynamous  jiarts),  e.^.,   stem- 

segments  of  Phanerogams,  segments  or  zoonites  of  Ajinelidt 
or  Vertebrates. 

5.  Tcrsonm,  shoots  or  buds  of  plants,  polyps  of  Ccelenterates, 

&c.,  "  individuals  "  in  the  narrowest  sense  among  the  higher 
animals. 

6.  Conns  (stocks  or  colonies),  e.g.t  trees,  chains  of  Salpse,  polyp* 

stocks,  &c 

In  his  subsequent  monograph  on  calcareous  Sponges,  and  in  & 
final  paper,  he  somewhat  modifies  these  categories  by  substituting 
one  category  of  extreme  comprehensiveness,  that  of  the  idorgan^  in 
place  of  the  three  separate  orders  of  organs,  antimeres,  and  meta- 
meres.  The  idorgan  (of  course  clearly  distinguished  from  the 
physiological  organ  or  biorgan)  is  finally  defined  as  a  morphological 
unit  consisting  of  two  or  more  plastids,  which  does  not  possess  the 
positive  character  of  the  person  or  stock.  These  are  distinguished 
into  hornoplasts  or  homo-organs  and  alloplasis  or  alloe-organs,  the 
former  'including,  as  subdivisions,  plastid -aggregates  and  plastid- 
fusions,  the  latter  idomeres,  antimeres,  and  metameres.  The  former 
definition  of  the  term  antimere,  as  denoting  at  once  each  separate 
ray  of  a  radiate,  or  the  right  and  left  halves  of  a  bilaterally  sym- 
metrical animal,  is  corrected  by  terming  each  ray  a  paraw^e,  and  its 
symmetrical  halves  the  antimeres.  Thus  an  ordinary  Medusoid  haa 
four  parameres  and  eight  antimeres,  a  Star-fish  five  and  ten.  The  con- 
ception of  the  persona  is  largely  modiiied,  not  only  by  withdrawing 
the  comparison  of  the  animal  with  the  vegetable  shoot  and  by  omit- 
ting the  antimere  and  metamcre  as  necessary  constituents,  but  by 
taking  the  central  embryonic  form  of  all  the  Metazoa — the  gastrula 
(fig.  I)  and  its  assumed  ancestral  representative,  the  gastra 
the  simplest  and  oldest  form  of  per- 
sona. The  different  morphological 
stages  to  which  it  may  attain  are  clas- 
sified into  three  series :  (1)  Monax- 
oniaP  inarticulate  persons,  i,c.,  uni- 
axial and  unsegmented  without  anti- 
meres or  metameres,  as  in  Sponges,  or 
lowest  Hydroids ;  (2)  Stauraxonial  ^ 
inarticulate  persons  with  antimeres, 
but  without  metameres,  e.g..  Coral, 
Medusa,  Turbellarian,  Trematode,  Bry- 
ozoon  ;  (3)  Stauraxonial  articulate  per- 
sons with  antimeres  and  metameres, 
c.j;.,  Annelids,  Arthropods,  Vertebrates. 
The  colonies  of  Protozoa  are  mere  idor-  Fio.  1.— Gastrula  in  optical  sec- 
gana.  Ti-ue  corms  composed  of  united  ^°a"'S°S?J"Si,'r;(?rS 
personae,  occur  only  among  Sponges,  pore  and  arch-enteron),  as  alao 
Hydroids,  Siphonophorcs,  Corals,  Bry-  outeranduinerlayers.ectoderm 
ozoa,  Tunicates,  and  Echinoderms,  of  audendoderm.  (After HaeckeL) 
which  the  apparent  parameres  are  regarded  as  highly  centralized  per- 
sonie  of  a  radially-budded  worm  colony;  and  these  can  be  classified 
according  to  the  morphological  rank  of  theii*  constituent  personec 
They  usually  arise  by  gemmation  from  a  single  persona,  yet  in  Sponges 
and  Corals  occasionally  by  fusion  of  several  originally  distinct 
persons  or  corms.  The  theory  of  successive  subordinate  orders  of 
individuality  being  thus  not  only  derived  from  historical  criticisn 
of  previous  theories  but  brought  into  conformity  with  the  actual 
facts  of  development  and  descent, — various  gi-oups  of  organisms 
being  referred  to  their  several  categories, — the  remaining  problem 
of  tectoloffy,  that  of  the  relation  of  the  morphological  to  the  physio- 
logical individuality,  is  finally  discussed.  Of  the  latter,  three  cate- 
gories are  proposed  :---(l)  the  "actual  bion  or  complete  physiological 
individual,"  this  being  the  completely  developed  organic  form  which 
has  reached  the  highest  grade  of  morphological  individuality  proper 
to  it  as  a  representative  of,  e.g.,  its  species  ;  (2)  the  "virtual  bion 
or  potential  physiological  individual,"  including  any  incompletely 
fleveloped  form  of  the  former  from  the  ovum  upwards  ;  and  (3) 
the  "partial  bion  or  apparent  physiological  individual,"  such  frag- 
ments of  the  actual  or  virtual  bion  as  may  possess  temporary  inde- 
pendence without  reproducing  the  species— this  latter  catogoiy 
having,  however,  inferior  importance.* 

Haeckel's  theory,  indeed  in  its  earlier  form,  has  been  adopted  by 
Gegenbaur  and  other  morphologists,  also  in  its  later  form  by  Jiiger, 
who,  however,  rejects  the  category  of  idorgan  on  the  ground  of  the 
general  morphological  principle  that  every  natural  body  which 
carries  on  any  chemical  changes  with  its  environment  Decomes 
dificrentiated  into  more  or  less  concentric  layers  ;  but  the  subject, 
especially  as  far  as  animals  are  concerned,  is  again  recently  dis- 
cussed in  a  largo  work  by  Perrier.  Starting  from  the  cell  or  plastid, 
he  terms  a  permanent  colony  a  miride,  and  these  may  remain 
isolated  like  Sagitta  or  Rotifer,  or  may  multiply  by  gemmation  to 


1  Far  explanation  of  these  t-cnns  see  §  5,  Promorpholo"^,  u  M4. 

*  For  criticism  of  this  theory  on  tlie  ground  of  its  maki  ic  ^iiyBioloffical  de- 
pend OD  luorpholoeical  individuality,  see  Fiacli,  Aufa&Jduno  tifu*  KtUxU  d*r 
vtTKhudtTun  AnsimUu  iiber  da<  pJ1aruIicA«  /ndivldvum,  p.  U. 


MORPHOLOGY 


843 


form  higher  aggregates  which  he  terms  zoida.  Such  zoides  may  be 
irregular,  radiate,  or  linear  aggregates,  of  which  the  two  former 
classes  especially  are  ternxed  dijjus.  The  organ — Haeckel's  idorgan — . 
is  excluded,  since  tissues  and  organs  result  from  division  of  labour 
in  the  anatomical  elements  of  the  merides,  and  so  have  only  a 
■econdary  individuality,  "carefully  to  be  distinguished  from  the 
individuality  of  those  parts  whose  direct  grouping  has  formed  the 
organism,  and  which  live  still,  or  have  Uved,  isolated  from  one 
another."  Perrier  further  points  out  that  undifferentiated  colonies 
are  sessile,  as  Sponges  and  Corals,  while  a  free  state  of  existence  is 
associated  with  the  concentration  and  integration  of  the  colony  into 
tn  individual  of  a  higher  .order. 

So  far  the  various  theories  of  tho  subject ;  detailed  criticism  is 
impossible,  but  some  synthesis  and  reconciliation  must  be  attempted. 
Starting  from  the  cell  as  the  •morphological  unit,  wo  find  these 
forming  homogeneous  aggregates  in  some  Protozoa  and  in  the  early 
development  of  the  ovum.  But  integration  into  a  whole,  not, 
merely  aggregation  into  a  mass,  is  essential  to  the  idea  of  individu- 
ality; the  earliest  secondary  unit,  therefore,  is  the  gastrula  or 
m^ride.  This  stage  is  permanently  represented  by  an  unbranched 
Hydra  or  Sponge  or  by  a  Planarian.  These  secondary  units  may, 
however,  form  aggregates  either  irregular  as  in  most  Sponges,  in- 
definitely branched  as  in  the  Hydroids  and  Actinozoa,  or  linear  as  in 
such  Planarians  as  Catenula.  Such  aggregations,  colonies,  or  demes, 
not  being  aggregated,  do  not  fully  reach  individuality  of  the  third 
order.  This  is  attained,  however,  for  the  branched  series  by  such 
forms  as  Siphonophores  among  Hydrozoa,  or  Henilla  or  Pennatula 
among  Actinozoa ;  for  linear  aggregates  again  by  the  higher  Worms, 
and  still  more  fully  by  Arthropods  and  Vertebrates.  Aggregates 
of  a  yet  higher  order  may  occur,  though  rarely.  A  longitudinally 
dividing  Nais  or  laterally  branched  Syllis  are  obviously  aggregates 
of  these  tertiary  units,  which,  on  Haeckel's  view,  become  integrated 
in  the  Echinoderm,  which  would  thus  reach  a  complete  indivi- 
duality of  the  fourth  order.  A  chain  of  Salpse  or  a  colony  of  Pyro- 
■oma  exhibits  an  approximation  to  the  same  rank,  which  is  more 
nearly  obtained  by  a  radiate  group  of  Botryllus  around  their  central 
cloaca,  while  the  entire  colony  of  such  an  Ascidian  would  represent 
tho  individual  of  the  fifth  order  in  its  incipient  and  unintegrated 
state, — these  and  the  preceding  intermediate  forms  being,  of  course, 
readily  intelligible,  and  indeed,  as  Spencer  has  shown,  inevitable 
on  the  theory  of  evolution. 

The  exclusion  of  tissues  and  organs  from  rank  in  this  series  is 
thus  seen  to  necessarily  follow.  Ectoderm  and  endoderm  cannot 
exist  alone ;  they  and  the  organs  into  which  they  differentiate 
arise  merely,  as  Jager  expresses  it,  from  that  concentric  lamination, 
or,  with  PeiTier,  from  that  polymorphism  of  the  members  of  the 
colony,  which  is  associated  with  organic  and  social  existence.  Tho 
idea  of  the  antimere  is  omitted,  as  being  essentially  a  promorpho- 
logical  conception  {for  a  Medusoid  or  a  Star-fish,  though  of  widely 
distinct  order  of  individnality,  are  equally  so  divisible) ;  that  of 
Oxe  metamere  is  convenient  to  denote  the  secondary  units  of  a 
linear  tertiary  individual  ;  the  term  persona,  however,  seems  un- 
likely to  survive,  not  only  on  account  of  its  inseparable  psycho- 
logii^  connotations,  but  because  it  has  been  somewhat  vaguely 
applied  alike  to  aggregates  of  the  second  and  third  order  ;  and  the 
term  colony,  corm,  or  deme  may  indifferently  be  applied  to  those 
•Sgregates  of  primary,  secondary,  tertiary,  or  quaternary  order  which 
are  not,  however,  integrated  into  a  whole,  and  do  not  reach  the 
fuU  individuality  of  the  next  higher  order.  The  term  zooid  is  also 
objectionable  as  involving  the  idea  of  individualized  ofgkns,  a  view 
natural  while  the  medtisoid  gonophores  of  a  Hydrozoon  were  looked 
at  as  evolved  of  its  homologue  in  Hydra,  whereas  tlio  latter  is 
really  a  degenerate  form  of  the  former.  Passing  to  the  vegetable 
■world,  here  as  before  the  cell  is  the  unit  of  the  first  order,  while 
aggregates  representing  almost  every  stage  in  the  insensible  evolu- 
tion of  a  secondary  unit  are  far  more  abundant  than  among  animals. 
Complete  unity  of  the  second  order  can  hardly  be  allowed  to  the 
thallus,  which  Spencer  proposes  to  compound  and  integrate  into 
tertiary  aggro^tes— the  higher  plants  ;  as  in  animals  th^  embryo- 
logical  method  is  preferable,  both  as  avoiding  gratuitous  hypothesis 
and  as  leading  to  direct  results.  Such  a  unit  is  clearly  presented 
by  the  embryo  of  higher  plants  in  which  tho  cell-aggregat  3  is  at 
once  differentiated  into  parts  and  integrated  into  a  whole.  Such 
an  embryo  possesses  axis  and  appendages  as  when  fuUy  developed 
(fig.  2).  The  latter,  however,  being  as  organs  mere  lateral  expan- 
sions of  the  concentiic  layers  into  which  the  plant  embryo,  like  the 
animal,  is  differentiated,  and  so  neither  stages  of  evolution  nor 
capable  of  separate  existence,  are  not  entitled  to  individual  rank. 
The  embryo,  the  bud,  shoot,  or  uniaxial  plant,  all  thus  belong  to 
the  second  order  of  individuality,  like  the  Hydroid  they  resemble. 
Ijke  the  lower  C<elenterates,  too,  aggregates  of  such  axes  are 
fornied  by  branching  out  from  their  low  degree  of  intcgi-ation. 
Such  colonies  can  hardly  bo  termed  individuals  of  the  third,  much 
less  of  higher  order,  at  least  without  somewhat  abandoning  that 
unity  of  treatment  of  plants  and  animals  witliout  which  philo.ophi- 
ea  biology  disappears.  Individuality  of  tlie  second  order  is  most 
lully  reached  by-the.flQwer,—tht~jaosU^sti^differentinted  and 


integrated  form  of  axes  and  appendages.  Such  a  simple  inflores- 
cence as  a  raceme  or  umbel  approximates  to  unity  of  the  third  order, 
towhich  acomposite  flower-head  must 
be  admitted  to  have  attained,  while  a 
compound  inflorescence  is  on  the  way 
to  a  yet  higher  stage. 

If,  as  seems  probable,  a  nomencla- 
ture be  indispensable  for  clear  ex- 
pression, it  may  be  simply  arranged 
in  conformity  with  this  view.  Start- 
ing from  the  unit  of  the  first  order,' 
the  plastid  or  monad,  and  terming  v 
any  undifferentiated  aggregate  a  cJcm«, 
we  have  a  moiuid-dcme  integrating  ., 
into  a  secondary  unit  or  dyad,  this  ^',°w  o^'T^",  °'  Dicotj-ledon 
rising  through  dyad^enus  into  a  t^' ^'^'i^.Z^l'^^'^'Sl 
triad,  this  forming  triad-deincs,  and  the  three  coDcentric  embrvonic 
these  when  differentiated  becoming  layers. 
UiTods,  the  BotryUus-colony  with  which  the  evolution  of  compound 
individuality  terminates  being  a  tetrad-denu.  The  separate  living 
form,  whether  monad,  dyad,  triad,  or  tetrad,  requires  also  some  dis- 
tinguishing name,forwhich  persona  will  probably  ultimately  be  found 
most  appropriate,  since  such  usage  is  most  in  harmony  with  its  inevi- 
table physiological  and  psychological  connotations,  while  the  genea- 
logical indiridualof  Gallesio  and  Huxley,common  also  to  all  the  cate- 
gories, may  be  designated  with  Haeckel  the  ovum-product  or  ovum- 
cycle,  the  complete  series  of  forms  needed  to  represent  the  species 
being  the  spccies-cycU  (though  this  coincides  with  the  former  save 
in  cases  where  the  sexes  are  separate,  or  polymorphism  occurs). 
For  such  a  peculiar  case  as  Diplozoon  paradoxum,  where  two 
separate  forms  of  the  same  species  coalesce,  and  still  more  for  such 
heterogeneous  indiriduality  as  that  of  a  Lichen,  where  a  composite 
unit  arises  from  the  union  of  two  altogether  distinct  forms — Fungus 
and  Alga, — yet  additional  categories  and  terms  are  required.' 

§  5.  Pr<muirpliology.—3\is,t  as  the  physiologist  constantly  seeks 
to  interpret  the  phenomena  of  function  in  terms  of  mechanical, 
physical,  and  chemical  laws,  so  tho  morphologist  is  tempted  to 
inquire  whether  organic  as  well  as  mineral  forms  are  not  alike 
reducible  to  simple  mathematical  law.  And  just  as  the  crystallo- 
grapher  constructs  an  ideally  perfect  mathematical  form  from  an 
imperfect  or  fragmentary  crystal,  so  the  morphologist  has  frequently 
attempted  to  reduce  the  complex-curved  surfaces  of  organic  beings 
to  definite  mathematical  expression.^  Canon  Moseley  (i'Art.  Trans., 
1838)  succeeded  in  showing,  by  a  combination  of  measurement  and 
mathematical  analysis,  that  the  curved  surface  of  any  turbinated 
or  discoid  shell  might  be  considered  as  generated  by  the  revolution, 
about  the  axis  of  the  shell,  of  a  curve,  which  continually  varied  its 
dimensions  according  to  the  law  of  the  logarithmic  spiraL  For 
Goodsir  this  logarithmic  spiral,  now  carved  on  his  tomb,  seemed 
a  fundamental  expression  of  organic  curvature  and  the  dawn  of  a 
new  epoch  in  natural  science — that  of  the  mathematical  investiga- 
tion of  organic  form — and  his  own  elaborate  measurements  of  the 
body,  its  organs,  and  even  its  component  cells  seemed  to  yield, 
now  the  triangle,  and  again  the  tetrahedron,  as  the  fimdamental 
form.  But  such  supposed  results,  savouring  more  of  the  Natur- 
philosophie  than  of  sober  mathematics,  could  only  serve  to  dis- 
courage further  inquiry  and  interest  in  that  direction.  Thus  wo 
find  that  even  the  best  treatises  on  botany  and  zoology  abandon 
the  subject,  satisfied  with  merely  contrasting  the  simple  geometrical 
ground-forms  of  crystals  with  the  highly  curved  and  hopelessly 
complicated  lines  and  surfaces  of  the  organism. 

But  there  are  other  considerations  which  lead  np  to  a  mathe- 
matical conception  of  organic  form,  those  namely  of  symmetry  and 
regularity.  These,  however,  are  usually  but  little  developed, 
botanists  since  Schleiden  contenting  themselves  with  throwing 
organisms  into  three  groups— first,  absolute  or  regular  ;  second, 
regular  and  radiate  ;  third,  symmetrical  bilaterally  or  zj-gomorphic 
—the  last  being  capable  of  division  into  two  halves  only  in  a  single 
plane,  the  second  in  two  or  more  planes,  the  first  in  none  at  all. 
Burraeister,  and  more  fully  Bronn,  introduced  the  fundamental 
improvement  of  defining  the  mathematical  forms  they  sought  not 
by  the  surfaces  but  by  axes  and  their  poles  ;  and  Haeckel  has 
developed  the  subject  with  an  elaborateness  of  detail  and  nomen- 
clature which  seems  unfortunately  to  have  impeded  its  study  and 
acceptance,  but  of  which  the  main  results  may,  with  slight  varia- 
tions chiefly  due  to  Jiiger  {Lehrb.  d.  ZooL,  i.  283),  be  briefly  out- 
lined. 

A.  ANAXONIA— forms  destitute  of  axes,  and  consequently 
wholly  irregular  in  form,  e.g.,  Amcebfe  and  many  Sponges? 

B.  ^JTOJV/^— forms  with  definite  axes. 


I  See  Haeclcel,  Gen.  Marjih.  L,  KaOcaihrcammt  1.,  and  Jtjui.  Zutxhr.  x. ;  alad 
Sachs,  GtschichU  d.  Bot.  ;  Fisch,  Av/sdhiung  ti.  Krilik,  Ac,  Rostock,  ISiO; 
Perrier,  La  Colonies  AnimaUe,  1892,  as  from  these  aU  other  references  can  be 
obtained. 

s  The  sciences  of  organic  and  mineral  form  would  thQs(Af  Hacchel  point* 
out)  become  thoroughly  analogous,  for,  as  promorphology  dcve)ot,s  tlic  crystallo- 
graphyof  organic  form,  so  mineraiogy.in  the  studyof  such  phenomena  as  thoao 
-otfisetidcaiorphisffl  or  et  mineial  development^  becomes  parallel  to  morpbologjj 


844 


MORPHOLOGY 


I.  HoMAXONiA— all  axes  equal. 

(o)  SphJTCS,  whore  an  indefinite  number  of  equal  area  can 
ba  drawn  through  the  middle  point,  e.g.^  Sphnrozoum. 
(6)  r  olyhedra,  with  a  definite  number  of  like  axes. 
Of  theso  a  cousiderable  number  occur  in  nature,  for  example,  many 
Radiolarians  (fig.  3),  pollen -grains,  &c., 
and  they  are  again  classifiable  by  the 
number  and  regularity  of  their  faces, 

II.  Protaxokia,  where  all  the  parts 
are  arranged  round  a  main  axi3,  and  of 
these  we  distinguish— 

1.  Mo7Uizonui,'^'it]\  not  more  than  one 
definite  azis.  Here  are  distipgiushed 
(a)  those  with  similar  poles,  spheroid 
(Coccodiscus)  and  cylinder  (Pyrosoma) 
and  (6)  those  with  dissimilar  poles, 
cone  (Conulina). 

2.  Sfauraxonia,  wbere,  besiJoa  the  j.^^  5.  -  Hadiolarian  (Etbmo- 
main  axes,  a  definite  number  of  second-  aphtera),  an  irrcf:uUr  ondo- 
ary  axes  are  placed  at  right  angles,  and  Bphseric  polyhedron  with  equi- 
the  stereometric  ground-form  becomes  aognlar  faces.  Type  of  Horn- 
a  pyramid.    Here,  again,  may  be  distin- 

guislied  (a)  those  with  poles  similar,  Stauraxonia  komopola,  where 
the  s<»creometric  form  is  the  double  pyramid  (fig.  4),  and  (&)  those  with 
poles  dissimilar,  Stauraxonia  heterO' 
pota,  where  the  stereometric  form  is  the 
eiiiflle  pyramid,  and  where  we  distin- 
guish a  iJasal,  usually  oral,  pole  from  an 
apical,  aboral,  or  anal  pole.  The  'bases 
of  these  may  be  either  regular  or  irre- 
gular polygons,  and  thus  a  new  classi- 
fication  into  Homostauya  and  Iletero- 
staura  naturally  arises. 

The  simpler  group,  the  Homostaura,  .j 
may  have  either  an  even  or  an  odd  (r 
number  of  eides,  and  thus  among  the 
Homostaura  we  have  even-sided  and 
odd-sided,  single  and  double  pjTamids, 
In  those  Homostaura  with  an  even 
number  of  Eidca,  such  as  Medusa;,  the 
radial  and  inter-radial  asps  have  simi- 
lar poles ;  but  in  the  series  with  an 
odd  number  of  sides,  like  most  Echi- 
noderras,  each  of  the  transverse  axes  is 
half  radial  and,  half  semi-radial  (fig.  5). 
Of  the  group  of  regular  double  Vy^^-VioA.--Po\\2ri^lV:^s^\onno^iT^, 
mids  the  twelve-sided  poUen-gi-ain  of  as  cjcample  of  Stanraxonia  ho- 
Passiflora  (fig.  4)  may  be  takeu  as  an  mopola.  Gronnd-fonn  a  regu- 
example,  having  the  ground-fonn  of  lar  double  pyramid  01  six  sidea. 
the  hexagonal  system,  the  hexagonal  dodecahedron.  Of  the  equal 
even-sided  single  pyramids  (Heteropola  homostaura),  Alcyonium, 
Geryonia,  Aurelia  may  be  taken  as  ex- 
amples of  the  eight-sided,  aix-sided,  and 
four-sided  pyramids,  while  those  with  an 
odd  number  of  sides  may  be  illustrated 
by  Ophiura  or  Primula  rnth  five  sides, 
and  tne  flower  of  Lily  or  Rush  with  three 
aides. 

In  the  highest  and  most  complicated 
group,  the  Heterostaura,  the  basal  poly- 
eon  is  no  longer  ro^ar  but  amphithect 
{6.y.(plOT]KTo%  ~  double-edged).        Such    a 

polygon  has  an  even  number  of  sides,  and  ^^__  „.—«„.„„„  ..^  ^^,^,  „ 
can  be  divided  into  symmetrical  halves  *  'of  Heteropola'  bornostaam 
by  each  of  two  planes  intersecting  at  right  Ground-form  a  re^ula.-  sinjs-le 
angles  in  the  middle  point,  and  thus  divid-  VJrs.mi^  of  Ave  aides, 
ing  tho  whole  figure  into  four  congruent  polygons.  The  longer  of 
these  axes  may  be  termed  lateral,  the  shorter  the  equatorial  ordorso- 
ventral ;  and  those  two  axes,  along  with  the  main  axes,  always  define 
tho  threedimensions  of  space.  Ctenophores  (fig.  6}  famish  examples 
of  ei^ht-sided  amphithect  pyramids,  some  Madrepore  Corals  of  six- 
eided,  Crucifers,  some  MedusEe,  and  Cestodes  of  four-sided  amphi- 
thect pyramids. 

In  these  forms  tho  poles  of  the  dorso-ventral  and  lateral  axes  are 
similar,  and,  as  in  the  precuding  Monaxonia  and  Stauraxonia,  tho 
centre  of  the  body  is  defined  by  a  line ;  and  they  are  therefore  termed 
Ceniraxonia,  while  the  Protaxonia, which  are  defined  by  their  cMitral 
point,  are-  called  Ccntrostigma.  There  are,  however,  other  forms, 
and  those  the  most  complicated,  in  which  tho  poles  of  at  least  the 
dorso-ventral  axis  are  unlike,  and  in  which  tho  oody  is  thus  defined 
not  with  reference  to  a  liuc  but  to  a  median  plane,  and  these  have 
accordingly  received  the  name  of  Ccntropipcda.  Their  ground-form 
is  a  polygon  with  an  uven  number  of  sides,  which  can  only  bo 
divided  into  two  symmetrical  halves  by  the  one  median  plane.  It 
con  be  obtained  by  halvinj^  an  amphithect  pyramid  of  double  tho 
number  of  sides,  and  is  consequently  termed  a  half  amphitliect 
pyramid  (fit;.  7).    The  whole  amphithect  pyramid  may  be  moat  con- 


'  Fio.  5.— Starflab,  au  example 


veniontly  obtained  by  the  reduplication  of  the  ground-form  as  if  (n  » 
mirror.  Of  half  amphithect  pyramids  therb  are  again  two  forma, 
termed  by  Haeckel  Amphipleura  and  ZygopUura,  the  former  in- 
cluding the  "bilaterally  symmetrical"  or  irregularly  r&diate  forma 
of  previous  authors,  such  aa  fipatangus,  Viola,  Orchis,  while  the 
Zygopleura  include  forms  bilaterally  symmetrical  in  the  strictest 
sense,  in  which  not  more  than  two  radial  planes,  and  these  at  right 


Fig.  6.  Fig.  7. 

Fio.  6.— Ctenophore  (Eucharis).  Grotud-form  aaei^bvgided double  amphithect 

pyramid. 
Fio.  7.— Spatangua.    Ground-form  a  five-aided  half  amphithect  pyramid, 
angles  to  each  other,  are  present.     The  stereometric  ground-form 
is  a  half  rhombic  pyramid.     Haeckel  again  divides  these,  according 
to  the  number  of  antimeres,  into  TelrapUura  and  DipUura, 

Promorphology  has  thus  shown  that  the  reigning  dogma  of  the 
fundamental  dSleronce  of  organic  and  mineral  forma  is  false,  and 
that  a  crystallography  of  organic  forms  is  possible, — the  form  of 
the  cell  or  the  cell-aggregate  difiering  from  the  crystal  merely  by 
its  more  or  less  \'L'5C0ua  state  of  aggregation,  its  inherited  peculi- 
arities, and  its  greater  adaptability  to  tho  environment.  The 
Classification  into  bilateral  and  radiate  forms  which  usually  does 
duty  for  more  precise  promorphological  conceptions  must  be  aban- 
doned  as  hopelessly  confusing  essentially  different  forms,  or  at  least 
must  be  rigidly  restricted, — the  term  radial  to  regular  and  double 
pyramids,  the  term  bilateral  to  the  Centropipeda  if  not  indeed  to 
dipleural  forms.  Similarly,  the  topographical  and  relative  terms, 
anterior  and  posterior,  upper  and  under,  horizontal  and  vertical, 
must  be  superseded  by  the  terms  above  applied  to  the  axes  and 
their  poles,  oral  and  aboral,  dorsal  and  ventral,  right  and  left. 

§  6.  Nature  0/ Morphological  Changes. — The  main  forms  of  organic 
structure  being  analysed  and  classified  and  their  stage  of  individu- 
ality being  ascertained,  the  question  next  arises,  by  w'hat  morpho- 
logical changes  have  they  arisen,  and  into  what  Categories  can  these 
modes  of  difterentiation  be  grouped  ?  They  at  first  sight  seem 
innumerable,  yet  in  reality  aie  few.  Goethe  somewhat  vaguely 
generalized  Ihem  for  the  flower  as  ascending  and  descending  Ineta- 
morphosia,  expanyicm  and  contraction  of  organs,  kc.  ;  but  the  first 
attempt  at  careful  enumeration  seems  to  be  that  of  Auguste  de  St- 
Hilaire,  who  recognised  dofects  of  development,  adhrrences,  excesses 
of  production  or  "d^doublements,"  metamorphosis  and  displace- 
ment of  organs.  Subsequent  authors  have  variously  treated  the 
subject ;  thus  Asa  Gray  enumerates  as  modifications  of  the  flower — 
coalescence,  adnation,  irregularity,  abortion,  tion-alternation  or 
anteposition,  multiplication,  enation,  unusual  development  of  the 
axis,  and  other  morphological  modifications  ccmiected  with  fertili- 
zation. These  are  obvioi\sly  lio  numerous,  as  may  best  be  shown 
by  a  singlo  comparison  with  the  view  of  an  animal  morphologist. 
Thus  iiiixloy,  in  discussing  tho  arrangement  of  the  Vortcbrata, 
recognizes  only  three  pro.x-jSfs  of  modification,  not  only  in.  tilie 
ancestral  evolution  of  the  Equidoe,  but  in  the  'indivi^luil  de'."elop- 
jnent  of  animals  generally  ;  these  are  "(1)  excess  of  development 
of  some  parts  in  relation  to  others,  (2)  partial  or  complete  suppres- 
sion of  certain  parts,  (3)  coalescence  of  parts  originally  distinct." 
It  is  probable  that  this  "  threefold  lav/  of  evolution  "  may  include 
all  observed  casc5  ofchangc,  even  in  the  Cower  ;  thus  Chorisia  and 
Peloria  may  bo  regarded  aa  pocuU?.r  forms  of  excess,  while  displace- 
ment is  probably  in  all  cases  only  apparent,  and  really  duo  to 
adhesion  or  coalescence  (see  Biolotx",  vol.  iii.  p.  6Si  sq.).^ 

§  7.  Nature  0/  Morp/whgical  Correspondtncc — Categories  cf 
Homology. — To  indicate  all  the  steps  by  which  the  idea  of  mor- 
phological has  been  distinguished  from  that  of  physiological 
resemblance  would  be  to  examine  the  whole  history  of  morphology; 
it  must  suffice  to  discuss  the  terniinology  of  the  subject  which  has, 
as  ever,  served  not  only  as  an  index  but  as  an  engine  of  progress. 
For  these  two  distinct  forms  of  resemblance  tho  terras  houwiogy 
ami  analogy  gradually  became  specialized,  and  ^vere  finally  estab- 
lished and  clearly  defined  by  Owen  in  1S43, — "tho  former  as  the 
same  organ  in  different  animals  under  every  variety  of  form  and 
function  (c.j.,  fore-limbs  of  Driito  volarts  and  wings  of  Bird)  :  the 
second  as  a  part  or  organ  in  one  animal  which  has  the  same  function 


»  Conipnro   A.   do  St-HUalrc,  Morp}.,.loffie ;    Gray,    J/auwuL  p.  179  (1S^>; 
Suxlejr,  rrix.  Zool,  Society,  p.  619,  Load.,  1880, 


MOBPHOLOG\ 


845 


SI  acotliei  part  or  argan  »  a  different  inunal  {e.g. ,  parachute  of 
Praco  and  wings  of  Bird).  He  farther  distinguiehea  three  kinds 
of  homology  ; — (1)  specuil,  being  **  that  above  defined,  namely,  the 
correspondence  of  a  part  or  organ  determined  by  its  relative  position 
and  connexions  with  a  part  or  organ  in  a  diflerent  animal,  the 
determination  of  which  homology  indicates  that  such  animals  are' 
constituted 'on  a  common  type, '  e.g.f  basilar  process  of  human 
occipital  with  basi-occipital  of  fish;  (2)  general,  that  "higher 
relation  in  which  a  part  or  series  of  parts  stands  to  the  fiindamental 
or  general  type,  involviBg  a  knowledge  of  the  typo  on  which  the 
group  in  question  is  constituted,"  eg.,  the  same  human  bone  and 
centrum  of  the  last  cranial  Tertebra  ;  (3)  scria(  homology,  ' '  repre- 
aentative  or  repetitive  relation  in  the  segments  of  the  same  skeleton  " 
(demonstrated  when  genwal  and  special  homologies  have  been 
determined) ;  thTis  usually  the  basi-occipital  and  basi-sphenoid 
are  *'homotypes."  These  terms  were  nenceforth  accepted  by 
naturalists ;  but  the  criterion  of  analogy  and  homology  became 
for  Agassi:  and  other  embryologists  developmental  as  well  as 
comparative,  reference  to  the  ideal  archetype  becoming  less 
and  less  frequent  Passing  over  the  discussions  of  Agassiz  and 
Bronn,  of  wnich  the  latter  is  criticized  and  partly  incorporated 
by  Haeckel,  we  find  the  last-named  (1)  placing  serial  under  general 
homology  ;  (2)  erecting  categories  of  homology  partially  corre- 
sponding to  those  of  individuality, — (a)  homotypy  (of  antimeres), 
hence  distinct  from  that  of  Owen,  (6)  hmwdynavty  (of  metameres), 
(c)  hotaorurmy  (of  parts  arranged  on  transverse  axes) ;  (3)  defining 
special  homology  in  terms  of  identity  of  embryonic  origin.  In 
1870  this  latter  point-  was  more  fully  insisted  upon  by  Ray  Lan- 
kester,  who,  decomposing  it  into  two  others,  proposed  to  supersede 
the  term  homology  by  kojnogeny,  being  the  correspondence  of 
common  descent,  and  homoplasy,  denoting  any  superinduced 
correspondence  of  position  and  structure  in  parts  eraoryonically 
distinct.  Thus,  the  fore-limb  of  a  mammal  is-  hoTJwgcnous  with 
that  of  a  bird,  but  the  right  and  left  ventricles  of  the  heart  in 
both  are  only  homoplastic,  these  having  arisen  independently  since 
the  divergence  of  both  groups  from  a  xmi-ventricuiato  ancestor  in 
relation  to  similarity  of  physiological  needs.  Mivart  next  pro- 
posed to  retain  homology  as  a  generic  term,  with  homogeny  and 
homoplasy  as  two  species  under  it,  and  carried  the  analysis  into 

Seat  detail,  distinguishing  at  first  twenty-five,  but  later  fifteen, 
nds  of  correspondeuce  : — (1)  parts  similar  in  function  only,  e.g., 
legs  of  Lizard  and  Lobster  ;  (2)  parts  similar  both  in  function  and 
relative  position,  vrings  of  Bat  and  Bird ;  (3)  paits  of  common 
descent,  fore-limb  of  Horse  and  Rhinoceros  ;  (4)  parts  of  similar 
embryonic  origin,  whatever  be  their  racial  genetic  relations,  e.g., 
occipitals  of  Panther  jtnd  Perch  ;  (6)  parts  of  dissimilar  embryonic 
origm,  whatever  be  their  racial  genetic  relations,  e.g.,  legs  of 
Diptera;  (6,  7,  8,  9,  10)  laterally,  vertically,  serially,  antero- 
posteriorly,  and  radially  homologoos  parts;  (11)  subordinate 
w;rial  homologucs,  e.g.,  joints  of  antenna ;  (12  and  13)  secondary 
and  tertiary  subordinate  serial  homologues  ;  (14  and  15)  special 
and  general  homologies  (in  Owen's  sense).  In  his  Kalkschwdrmme 
Haeckel  proposed  to  term  Iwnujphyly  the  truly  phylogenetic 
homology  in  opposition  to  homomorphy,  to  which  genealogic  basis 
is  wanting ;  and  finally  Von  Jhering  bias  pubUshed  a  r«pctitian  of 
Lankester's  view. 

In  this  discussion,  as  in  that  of  individuality,  it  is  evident  that 
wo  are  dealing  with  numerous  logical  cross-divisions  largely  corre- 
sponding, no  doubt,  to  the  complex  web  of  inter-relations  presented 
by  nature,  yet  remaining  in  need  of  disentanglement.  Though  we 
must  set  aside  analogies  of  functional  activity,  the  resemblances 
in  external  shape  or  geometric  ground-form  wliich  correspond  to 
these,  e.g.,  Hydrozoa  and  Bryozoa,  Fishes  and  Cetaceans,  mimetic 
organisms,  are  nevertheless,  as  our  historic  survey  showed,  the 
first  which  attract  attention  ;  and  these  homoplastic  or  homomor- 
phic  forms,  as  Haeckel  has  shown,  come  as  fairly  within  the  province 
of  the  promorphologist  as  do  isomorphic  crystals  within  that  of 
his  an-organological  coUeaguo  the  crystallogi-apber.  Here,  too, 
wojild  be  considered  "radikl,"  "vertical,"  "lateral"  homology, 
"  homotypy  of  autimews,"  and  all  questions  of  symmetry,  for  which 
Haeckel's  nomenclature  oiliomasconial,  Jiomopolic,  kc,  is  distinctly 
preferable.  Entering  the  field  of  tectology  or  morphology  in  the 
ordinary  sense,  we  vaay  next  consider  whether  two  organisms  com- 
pared are  of  the  same  category  of  individuality — are  homocalcgoric  ', 
and  under  this  seiial  homology,  for  instance,  would  come  as  a 
minor  division,  the  correspondence  between  the  units  or  parts  of 
units  of  a  linear  dyad-deme  or  triad.  From  a  third  point  of  view, 
that  of  the  embryologist,  we  trace  the  development  of  "each  multi- 
cellular organism  (1)  from  the  embiyonic  layers  and  systems  into 
which  the  secondary  unit  (gastnila  or  plant  embryo)  differentiates, 
(2)  from  a  unit-demo  or  unit  of  the  inferior  order  or  orders  of 
individuality.  The  parts  and  units  thus  recognized  by  ontogenetic 
i-escarch,  respectively  or  successively  homodermic,  homosystemic, 
and  homodeniic,  may  then  conveniently  be  termed  (indifferently 
aavo  for  considerations  of  priority)  either  "specially  homologous," 
"  homogenous,"  "  homophylic,"  or  "homogenetic,"  in  the  language 
of  phylogenetic  theory.    These  three  great  classes  of  morphological  , 


correspondence — promorphological,  t«otological,  and  embtyclogical 
—may  or  may  noc  coincide.  But  the  completest  homology, 
in  which  all  forms  of  resemblance  unite  and  from  which  they 
differentiate,  is  that  expressed  in  the  cell  theory,  or  rather  in  that 
ovum  theory  which  underlies  it,  and  which  Agassi2  therefore  not 
unjustly  retarded  as  "  the  greatest  discovery  in  the  natural  sciences 
of  modem  timea  "  > 

S  8.  Baulta  to  Taxonomy. — The  advance  and  modification  of 
classifications  which  follow  each  morphological  advance  have  been 
pointed  out  above,  and  taxononiy  thus  never  quite  reaches  a  level 
with  morphological  knowledge.  That  it  requires  much  reform  tct 
present  is  obvious.  Although  the  dogma  of  the  constancy  of  species 
is  no  longer  maintained,  its  results  survive,  and  perhaps  a  majority 
of  groups  have  still  to  be  remonographed  in  the  generalizing  spirit 
with  which  Haeckel  has  treated  the  calcareous  Sponges,  or  Car- 
penter, Parker,  and  Brady  the  Foraminifera.  The  union  of  the 
Protophjrta  and  Protozoa  into  the  Protista  (a  generalization  which 
research  is  constantly  confirming)  involves  a  final  abandonment  of 
the  mediaeval  figment  of  three  kingdoms  of  nature,  and  a  revival  of 
the  Organisata  of  Linnaeus.  Physiological  prejudices,  too,  are  not 
completely  expelled  ;  bence,  for  instance,  the  constant  attempts 
■to  separate  Animalia  and  'V'egetabilia  by  physiological  character- 
istics, which  would  be  irrelevant  even  if  in  themselves  valid.  A 
strictly  morphological  standard  mnst  be  applied  to  the  constmction 
of  classifications  and  the  pruning  of  genealogical  trees ;  organisms 
are  "  higher'"  or  "lower  '  not  according  to  their  stage  of  evolution 
in  beauty  or  intelligence  but  (as  Huxley  has  most  clearly  pointed 
out  in  the  essay  referred  to  under  §  6)  to  the  degree  of  morphological 
differentiation  by  excesa,  suppression,  or  coalescence  wnich  they 
exhibit.  Thus  the  supreme  position  of  Man  in  classification  must 
be  abandoned,  since  the  Primates  are  simply  one  of  the  less  special- 
ized, i.e.,  lower  orders  of  Mammals,  and  the  Mammals  themselves 
are  on  the  whole  distinctly  less  specialized  than  the  Birds,  or  per- 
haps even  some  of  the  higher  Reptiles.  The  morphological  import- 
ance of  the  "vegetable  kingdom"  sinks  when  tested  by  such  a 
standard.  The  Cormophyces  are  all  nothing  more  than  an  axis 
with  appendages,  and  as  such  may  fairly  be  compared,  not  with 
the  entire  animal  assemblage,  but  merely  to  that  group  which  is 
homomorphic  (or  rather  isomorphic)  with  them  as  reducible  to 
axis  and  appendages  too.  Such  a  gronp  we  find  in  the  Hydiome- 
dusffi,  which  we  can  easily  model  in  imagination  into  all  the  special- 
izations of  the  floral  world,  a  single  genus  like  Clava  or  Tubularia 
affording  a  starting-point  for  countless  "natural  orders." 

§  9.  Selation  'of  MorpMogy  to  Physiology. — Although  the  pure 
morphologist  investigates  laws  of  structure  only,  and  rightly  elimi- 
nates the  conceptions  of  life,  envii-onraent,  and  function,  yet  if  kept 
permanently  apart  from  physiological  considerations  h's  labours 
would  b«  incomplete  and  his  results  inexplicable,  if  not  indeed 
almost  illusory.  For,  however  deeply  one  penetrates  through  super- 
ficial and  adaptive  characters  to  an  apparently  permanent  and 
fundamental  morphological  type,  this  is  itself  but  an  earlier  adapta- 
tion, showing  the  fading  traces  of  an  earlier  adaptation  stilL  And, 
conversely,  the  most  superficial  of  adaptive  characters,  if  trans- 
mitted to  numerous  varying  descendants,  may  attain  high  morpho- 
logical importance.  The  morphological  aspect  of  an  organism  is 
merely  statical,  and,  like  that  of  an  eddy  or  a  vortex-ring,  becomes 
only  truly  intelligible  when  viewed  in  its  dynamic  aspect ;  and 
thus,  though  the  demonstration  of  the  structural  unity  of  the 
organic  world  is  in  itself  a  great  result,  yet  the  desire  of  a  deeper 
explanation  of  form  as  determined  by  function  and  environment 
is  thereby  rendered  all  the  more  pressing.  An  example  may  be 
taken  from  botany.  Thus  Airy  beautifully  explains  the  pheno- 
mena of  phyllotaxis  as  adaptations  to  bud-life.  Or  again,  in  a 
common  flower,  say  the  Dead-nettle,  all  the  details  of  form  are  in- 
deed described  by  the  eystematist  with  equal  minuteness  (a  pro- 
ceeding which,  except  in  so  far  as  serving  for  specific  identification, 
is  of  no  fmther  scientific  value),  but  receive  separate  interpretation 
from  the  two  distinct  standpoints  of  the  morphologist  and  physio- 
logist. The  latter,  to  whom  form  is. important  merely  so  far  as 
explanatory  of  function,  shows  how  the  tough  persistent  calyx  is 
protective  against  various  dangei-s,  how  the  corolla-serves  to  lure 
the  fertilizing  bees,  which  find  in  its  lip  a  landing  stage  and  in 
each  lateral  process  a  hold-fast,  while  its  hood  at  once  protects  the 
pollen  against  rain  and  determines  the  curvature  of  the  stamens, — 
this  curvature,  as  well  as  their  didynamous  arrangement,  median 
position,  and  linearly  arranged  anther-lobes  being  all  adaptations 
through  the  medium  of  the  bee's  hairy  back  to  meet  the  similarly 
placed  stigma  of  another  flower, — and  so  on.  The  morphologist, 
on  the  other  hand,  analyses  the  calyx  into  its  five  constituent  sepals, 
reduces  the  corolla  to  a  regular  pentamerous  tj-pc,  ascertains  the 
position  of  the  four  stameus,  and  asserts  the  loss  of  a  fifth  posterior 
one,  finds  the  ovary  to  bo  primitively  two-celled,  and  thus  reaches 
a  sdiematic  conception  of  a  not  archetypal  but  ancestral  fomi. 
This  ground-form  itself,  however,  suggests  a  new  train  of  considera- 
tions both  morphological  and  physiologic^d  respecting  the  origin  of 


Lookester,  An.  Mag.  Nat.  Hist.,  1870,  or.  Oeddes, 


846 


M  O  R— -M  O  R 


this  priincA'al  flower  ftoni  a  somewhat  fem-like  Cryptogam,  of  which 
tiie  foliagc-lcftves,  the  envelopes  of  the  sporc-bcai-ing  leaves,  the 
micro-  and  raacrosporangiosphores  had  become  permanently  difTer- 
«ntiated  in  ascending  order ;  of  which  the  microspores,  doubtless 
through  the  intervention  of  a  spore-eating  insect,  had  come  to  ger- 
minate upon  the  macrosporangium  instead  of  upon  tile  gl-ound  ;  and 
in  which  this  variation  (evidently  advantageous,  since  making  ferti- 
lization at  once  more  certain  and  more  economical)  was  aided  to  per- 
petuate itself  by  the  contemporaneous  evolution  of  those  floral  colours 
which  are  nascent  even  among  the  Thallophy  tes.  Ami  thus  the  mor- 
phologist,  though  excluding  telcological  and  functional  considera- 
tions from  his  anatomical  researches,  has  yet  a  physiological  ideal, 
and  enters  sooner  or  later  upon  a  new  series  of  inquiries — those  of  the 
interdependence  of  structure  and  function.  Milne-Edwards's  law  of 
the  physiological  division  of  labour,  Dohrn's  principle  of  functional 
change,  the  speculations  of  Claude  Bernard,  Spencer,  and  Hacckel, 
cxp'-'riMicntal  inquiries  such  as  those  of  Semper,  where  organisms 
arc  subjected  to  special  modifications  of  their  environment,  and 
the  like,  arc  all  contiibutions  to  this  newest  and  evolutionary 
department  of  morphology.  Such  ideas  aro  even  ajipliod  to  the 
study  of  celUdar  morphology.    Thus,  Spencer  points  out  the  relation 


of  the  shapes  of  cells  to  their  environments  ;  James  ingeniously 
explains  tho  occuiTence  of  cell-division  by  the  rapid  increase  of 
bulk  over  surface  which  the  growth  of  a  solid  involves,  and  the 
corresponding  increase  of  dilficulty  of  nutrition  ;  and  the  writer 
has  attempted  to  explain  the  forms  of  free  and  united  cells  as 
specializations  of  a  (protomyxoid)  cycle  in  wliicli  variations  of  func- 
tional activity  are  accompanied  by  the  assumption  of  corresponding 
forms,  the  whole  series  of  changes  depending  upon  the  properties 
of  protoplasm  under  the  variations  in  the  supply  of  energy  from 
the  environment.  Rauber,  His,  and  others  have  even  attempted  to 
explain  einbryological  phenomena  in  terms  of  the  "simplest  cellular 
mechanics,  but  as  yet  such  speculations  are  somewhat  crude.* 

§  10.  Oricniaiion  mid  Subdivisions  of  Morphology. — The  position 
of  morphology  in  the  classification  of  the  sciences  and  the  proper 
mode  of  subdividing  it  cannot  be  discussed  within  these  limits, 
although  tho  latter  is  especially  the  subject  of  much  disagreement. 
The  position  above  assumed,  that  of  including  under  morphology 
the  whole  statical  aspects  of  the  organic  world,  j^  that  of  Haeckel, 
Spenoer,  Huxley,  and  most  recent  animal  morphologists  ;  botanists 
frequently,  however,  still  use  the  term  under  its  earlier  and  more 
limited  significance.^  (P.  GE.) 


MORRIS,  RoEEKT  (1734-1806),  American  statesman, 
v.-as  born  at  Liverpool,  England,  on  20th  January  1734. 
At  the  age  of  thirteen  he  accompanied  his  father  to  America, 
and  after  serving  in  a  counting-house  at  Philadelphia 
he  became  in  1754  partner  in  the  business.  From  1776 
to  177S  he  was  delegate  to  the  Continental  Congress,  and 
he  vas  one  of  those  who  signed  the  Declaration  of  Inde- 
pendence. During  the  war  he  served  on  the  committee  of 
M'ays  and  means,  and  freely  placed  his  immense  wealth  at 
the  disposal  of  his  country,  his  personal  credit  being  at 
one  time  pledged  to  the  amount  of  811,400,000.  He  also 
in  1780  established  the  Bank  of  North  America,  and  until 
1784  acted  as  superintendent  of  finance.  In  1786  he  be- 
came a  member  of  the  Pennsylvania  legislature,  and  he  was 
one  of  the  convention  which  framed  the  Federal  constitu- 
tion in  1787.  From  1786  to  1795  he  was  United  States 
senator.  On  account  of  the  disastrous  result  of  some  of 
his  financial  speculations  Morris  passed  the  later  years  of 
his  life  in  a  debt  prison.  He  died  at  Philadelphia,  8th 
May  1806.  Robert  Morris  had  as  his  assistant-superin- 
tendent of  finance  Gouverneur  Morris  (1752-1816),  with 
whom  he  engaged  also  in  several  mercantile  enterprises. 
Gouverneur  MoitIs,  who  rose  to  some  eminence  as  a  states- 
man and  orator,  was  more  fortunate  ia  his  speculations 
than  his  colleague,  and  latterly  became  celebrated  for  the 
munificence  of  his  hospitality.  He  was  the  author  of  a 
series  of  essays  on  currency  and  finance,  which  are  included 
iiT  the  Life,  Currespondence,  and  ]]'ritin<js  of  Gouverneur 
Morris,  3  vols.,  edited  by  Jared  Sparks,  1832. 

MOKRIS-D.ANCE,  or  ■Morkice-dance,  a  performance 
for  a  long  time  associated  with  certain  festive  seasons  in 
England,  but  now  wholly  discontinued.  The  origin  of  the 
name  is  doubtful ;  and  whethev  the  dance  was  indigenous 
to  England,  or  was  introduced  by  John  of  Gaunt  from 
Spain,  or  was  borrowed  from  the  French  or  Flemings, 
must  be  left  to  conjecture.  That,  as  the  name  would 
seem  to  indicate,  it  was  a  development  of  the  morisco- 
(lance  or  Spanish  fandango  is  not,  however,  invalidated 
by  the  fact  that  the  morisco  was  for  one  person  only,  for, 
although  latterly  the  morris-dance  was  represented  by 
\.irious  characters,  uniformity  in  this  respect  was  not 
always  observed,  and  tho  elements  of  the  dance  may  have 
been  borro^^■ed  from  the  morisco.  There  are  few  references 
to  it  earlier  than  the  reign  of  Henry  VII.,  but  it  would 
appear  that  in  the  reign  of  Henry  VIII.  it  wa.s  an  almost 
essential  part  of  the  principal  village  festivities.  Although 
allusions  to  it  in  poems  are  very  frequent  in  the  16th  and 
17th  centuries;,  nothing  more  than  fragmentary  descriptions 
have  been  handed  do-\vn  to  us,  so  that  an  accurate  know- 
ledge of  its  characteristic  features  at  even  any  particular 
period  is  impossible.      In    earlier   times   it  was   usually 


danced  by  five  men  and  a  boy  dressed  in  a  girl's  habit, 
who  was  called  Maid  Marian.  There  were  also  two 
musicians ;  and,  at  least  sometimes,  one  of  the  dancers, 
niore  gaily  and  richly  dressed  than  the  others,  acted  as 
"foreman  of  the  morris."  The  garments  of  the  dancers 
were  ornamented  with  bells  tuned  to  different  notes  so  as  to 
sound  in  harmony .^  Robin  Hood,  Friar  Tuck,  and  Little 
John  were  characters  extraneous  to  the  original  dance, 
and  were  introduced  when  it  came  to  be  associated  with 
the  May-games.  At  Betley,  in  Stafford-shire,  there  is  a 
painted  window  of  the  time  of  Henry  VIII.,  or  earlier," 
portraying  the  morris, — the  characters  including  Maid 
Marian,  Friar  Tuck,  the  hobby-horse,  the  piper,  the  tabotu-er, 
the  fool,  and  five  other  persons  apparently  representing 
various  ranks  or  callings.  The  hobby-horse,  which,  latterly 
at  least,  was  one  of  the  principal  characters  of  the  dance, 
consisted  of  a  wooden  figure  attached  to  the  person  of  the 
actor,  who  was  covered  with  trappings  reaching  to  the 
ground,  so  as  to  conceal  his  feet.  The  morris-dance  was 
abolished  along  "with  the  May-games  and  other  festivities 
by  the  Puritans,  and,  although  revived  at  the  Restoration, 
the  pageant  gradually  degenerated  in  character  and  declined 
in  importance.  Maid  Marian  latterly  was  personated  by 
a  clo^vn  who  was  called  Malkin.  Though  the  dance  is  now 
wholly  discontinued,  it  is  probable  that  some  of  the  original 
elements  of  it  still  survive  in  a  country-dance  which,  under 
the  same  name,  is  still  popular  in  the  north  of  England. 

See  Douce,  *' Dissertations  on  the  Ancient  Jlorris  Dance,"  in  his 
IlUislmtioiis  of  Shakspcare{\iW);  Strutt,  Sports  and  Pastimes  of  Uie 
People  of  England  ;  and  Brand,  Popular  Antiquities  (1849). 

MORRISON,  Robert  (1782-1834),  the  first  Protestaflt 
missionary  to  China,  was  born  of  Scottish  parents  .at 
Morpeth,  Northumberland,  on  5th  January  1782.  -After 
receiving  an  elementary  education  in  Newcastle,  he  was 
apprenticed  to  a  lastmaker,  but  his  spare  houi-s  weTB 
devoted  to  studies  connected  with  theology,  and  in  1803 
he  was  received  into  the  Independent  academy  at  Hoxton. 
I  In  tho  following  year  he  offered  his  services  to  the  London 
Missionary  Society,  by  which,  after  ho  had  attended  the 
mission  college  of  Gosport  and  studied  Chinese  under  a 
native  teacher,  he  was  sent  to  Canton  in  1807.  He  was 
appointed  translator  to  the  East  India  Company's  factory 


iples  of  Biol,  ; 
vie  coinmmis 


'  See,  Biology,  vol.  iii.  p.  C81  sq.  ;  Spencer, 
Haeckel,  Gen,  Morph. ';  C.  Bernard,  Phinominc 
aux  an.  ei  aux  vig.  ;  Semper,  Animal  life  ( 1 880)  ; '  J.amea,  Edini 
iled.  Journal,  1883  ;  Geddcs,  Zool.  Ameiger,  1SS3  ;  Rauber,  ilorph. 
ya/i)!).,  vi.  ;  Hacckel,  yrai'cscAioamiili;,  i.  p.  -ISl,  &c. 

-  See  Haeckel,  GH.  Morph.,  i.  Introduction  ;  also  Comte,  Phil^. 
Pos.,  iii.  (1851-1854) ;  Spencer,  Prin.  of  Biol.,  i.  ;  Gcgcnbaur,  Comp: 
Anat.  ;  Asa  Gray,  Manual;  and  tha  article  Bioloot  ;  also  Geddej^ 
Jena    Xcitschr.,  1883. 

'  See  Sir  Walter  Scott's  Fair  Maid  of  Perth,  note  on  a  drest  pre- 
served by  the  glover  incoruoration  of  Perth.** 


M  O  R  — M  O  K 


847 


there  in  1808,  and,  in  addition  to  his  official  duties  con- 
nected -with  this  post,  labourad  with  intense  "^application 
Bt  a  Chinese  Grammar  ,and  a  translation  of  the  New 
Testament,  both  of  which  were  published  "in  1814.  In 
1817  he  published  A  View  of  China  for  Philological  Pur- 
poses, and  his  translation  of  the  entire  Bible  was  completed 
in  the  following  year.  Hia  next  enterprise  was  the  estab- 
lishment of  an  Anglo-Chinese  college  at  Malacca  for  "  the 
reciprocal  cultivation  of  Chinese  and  European  literature," 
which  was  opened  in  1820.  In  1821  his  Chinese  Dictionary 
was  published  by  the  East  India  Company  at  an  expense 
of  £15,000.  Leaving  China  at  the  close  of  1823  he  spent 
two  years  in  England,  where  he  advocated  Chinese  missions 
before  large  and  enthusiastic  audiences,  and  was  elected  a 
Fellow  of  the  Royal  Society.  Returning  to  China  in  1826 
he  set  himself  to  promote  education  and  to  prepare  a 
Chinese  sommentaiy  on  the  Bible  and  other  Christian 
literature.  He  died  at  Canton  on  1st  August  1834.  His 
ifemoirs,  compiled  by  his  widow,  were  published  in  1839 
(2  vols.  8vo,  London). 

MORRISTOWN,  a  city  of  the  United  States,  county 
seat  of  Morris  county.  New  Jersey,  lies  on  the  Whippany 
river,  31  miles  from  New  York  by  the  Morris  and  Essex 
division  of  the  Delaware,  Lackawanna,  and  Western  Rail- 
road. It  was  twice  the  headquarters  of  the  American 
army  during  the  War  of  Independence,  and  Washington's 
residence,  owned  by  the  Washington  Association,  assisted 
by  the  State,  is  a  half-mile  to  the  east.  On  Whatnong 
mountain,  3  miles  distant,  stands  the  State  insane  asylum, 
usually  called  Morristown  Asylum,  a  vast  granite  building 
1243  feet  long,  erected  in  1874-1875,  and  capable  of  ac- 
commodating 1000  patients.  The  population  in  1880 
was  5418. 

MORSE,  SAjotel  Tmisv  Brekse  (1791-1872),  artist 
and  inventor,  was  bom  at  the  foot  of  Breed's  Hill,  Charles- 
town,  Massachusetts,  on  27th  April  1791.  His  father  was 
the  Rev.  Jedediah  Morse,  D.D.,  the  author  of  Morse's 
Geography.  At  the  age  of  fourteen  Samuel  Morse  entered 
Yale  College ;  under  the  instruction  of  Professors  Day  and 
Silliman  he  received  the  first  impulse  towards  those  elec- 
trical studies  with  which  his  name  is  mainly  identified. 
In  1811  Morse,  whose  tastes  during  his  early  years  led 
him  more  strongly  towards  art  than  towards  science,  be- 
came the  pupQ  of  Washington  Allston,  then  the  greatest  of 
American  artists,  and  accompanied  his  master  to  England, 
where  he  remained  four  years.  His  success  at  this  period 
was  considerable;  but  on  his  return  to  America  in  1815 
he  failed  to  obtain  commissions  for  historical  paintings, 
and  after  working  on  portraits  for  two  years  at  Charleston, 
S.C,  he  removed  first  to  Washington  and  afterwards  to 
Albany,  finally  settling  in  New  York.  In  1825  he  laid 
the  foundations  of  the  National  Academy  of  Design,  and 
was  elected  its  first  president,  an  office  which  he  filled 
until  1845.  The  year  1827  marks  the  revival  of  Morse's 
interest  in  electricity.  It  was  at  that  time  that  he  learned 
from  Professor  J.  F.  Dana  of  Columbia  College  the  ele- 
mentary facts  of  electromagnetism.  As  yet,  however,  he 
was  devoted  to  his  art,  and  in  1829  he  again  went  to 
Europe  to  study  the  old  masters. 

The  year  of  his  return,  1832,  may  be  said  to  close  the 
period  of  his  artistic,  and  to  open  that  of  his  scientific  life. 
On  board  the  packet-ship  "Sully,"  which  sailed  from 
Ha\Ta  1st  October  1832,  while  discussing  one  day  with 
his  fellow-passengers  the  properties  of  the  electromagnet, 
h«  was  led  to  remark  :  "  if  the  presence  of  electricity  can 
be  made  visible  in  any  part  of  the  circuit,  I  see  no  reason 
why  intelligence  may  not  be  transmitted  by  electricity." 
It  was  not  a  novel  proposition,  but  the  process  of  formu- 
lating it  started  in  his  mind  a  train  of  new  and  momentous 
ideas.    The  current  of  electricity,  he  knew,  would  pass 


instantaneously  any  distance  along  a  wire ;  and  if  it  wore 
interrupted  a  spark  would  appear.  It  now  occurred 
to  him  that  the  spark  might  represent  a  part  of  speech, 
either  a  letter  or  a  number ;  the  absence  of  the  spark, 
another  part ;  and  the  duration  of  its  absence,  or  of  the 
spark  itself,  a  third,  so  that  an  alphabet  might  be  easily 
formed,  and  words  indicated.  In  a  few  days  he  had 
completed  rough  drafts  of  the  necessary  apparatus,  which 
he  displayed  to  his  fellow-passengers.*  During  the  twelve 
years  that  followed  Morse  was  engaged  in  a  painful  struggle 
to  perfect  his  invention  and  secure  for  it  a  proper  presenta- 
tion to  the  public.  The  refusal  of  the  Government  to  com- 
mission him  to  paint  one  of  the  great  historical  pictures  in 
the  rotunda  of  the  Capitol  seemed  to  destroy  all  his  old 
artistic  ambition.  In  poverty  he  pursued  his  new  enter- 
prise, making  his  own  models,  moulds,  and  castings,  deny^ 
ing  himself  the  common  necessaries  of  life  and  encountering 
embarrassments  and  delays  of  the  most  disheartening  kini 
It  was  not  until  1836  that  he  completed  any  apparatus 
that  would  work,  his  original  idea  having  been  supple- 
mented by  his  discovery  in  1835  of  the  "  relay,"  by  means 
of  which  the  electric  current  might  be  reinforced  or  renewed 
where  it  became  weak  through  distance  from  its  source. 
Finally,  on  2d  September  1837,  the  instrument  was 
exhibited  to  a  few  friends  at  his  room  in  the  university 
building.  New  York,  where  a  circuit  of  1700  feet  of  copper 
wire  had  been  set  up,  with  such  satisfactory  results  as  to 
awaken  the  practical  interest  of  the  Messrs  Vail,  iron  and 
brass  workers  in  New  Jersey,  who  thenceforth  became  asso- 
ciated with  Morse  in  his  undertaking.  Morse's  petition 
for  a  patent  was  dated  28th  September  1837,  and  was 
soon  followed  by  a  petition  to  Congress  for  an  appro- 
priation to  defray  the  expense  of  subjecting  the  telegraph 
to  actual  experiment  over  a  length  sufficient  to  estabUsh 
its  feasibility  and  dentonstrate  its  value.  The  committee 
on  commerce,  to  whom  the  petition  was  referred,  reported 
favourably.  Congress,  however,  adjourned  without  making 
the  appropriation,  and  meanwhile  Morse  sailed  for  Europe 
to  take  out  patents  there.  The  trip  was  not  a  success. 
In  England  his  application  was  refused,  on  the  alleged 
ground  that  his  invention  had  been  already  published; 
and,  while  he  obtained  a  patent  in  France,  it  was  subse- 
quently appropriated  by  the  French  Government  without 
compensation  to  himself.  His  negotiations  also  with  Russia 
proved  futile,  and  after  a  year's  absence  he  returned  to 
New  York.  On  23d  February  1843  Congress  pa.ssed  the 
long-delayed  appropriation,  steps  were  at  once  taken  to 
construct  a  telegraph  from  Baltimore  to  Washington,  and 
on  the  24th  of  May  1844  it  was  used  for  the  first  time. 
Morse's  patents  were  already  secured  to  him  and  his  asso- 
ciates, and  companies  were  soon  formed  for  the  erection  of 
telegraph  lines  all  over  the  United  States.  In  the  year 
1847  Morse  was  compeUed  to  defend  his  invention  in  tho 
courts,  and  successfully  vindicated  his  claim  to  be  called 
the  original  inventor  of  the  electromagnetic  recording  tele- 
graph. Thenceforward  Morse's  life  was  spent  in  witnessing 
the  growth  of  his  enterprise  and  in  gathering  the  honours 
which  an  appreciative  public  bestowed  upon  him.  As 
years  went  by  he  received  from  the  various  foreign  Govern- 
ments their  highest  distinctions,  while  in  1858  the  repre- 
sentatives of  Austria,  Belgium,  France,  the  Netherlands, 
Piedmont,  Russia,  the  Holy  See,  Sweden,  Tuscany,  and 
Turkey  appropriated  the  sum  of  400,000  francs  in  recog- 
nition of  the  use  of  his  instruments  in  those  countries.  In 
the  preparations  for  laying  tho  first  Atlantic  cable  he  took 
an  active  part,  though  the  attempt  of  1857,  in  which  he 
personally  engaged,  was  not  successful     He  died  2d  April 


*  Five  years  later  the  captain  of  the  ship  identiOed  under  oath 
Morse's  completed  instrament  with  that  which  Mor^o  had  explained 
on  boiird  the  "  Snlly  "  in  18S2. 


848 


M  O  R  — M  O  R 


1 872,  at  New  York,  where  his  statue  in  bronze  now  stands 
in  the  Central  Park.  His  instrument  and  alphabet  are 
DOW  used  on  95  per  cent,  of  the  telegraph  wires  of  the 
world.  (s.  L  P.) 

MORSHANSK,  a  district  town  of  Russia,  situated  in 
the  government  of  Tamboff,  58  miles  (187  miles  by  rail) 
to  the  north  of  the  capital  of  the  province  on  the  Tsna 
river,  a  tributary  of  the  Oka,  and  on  the  railway  between 
Moscow  and  Orenburg.  The  village  Morsha  was  founded 
only  in  the  middle  of  the  17th  century,  and  received 
municipal  institutions  in  1779  ;  but  a  hundred  years  ago  it 
was  already  a  wealthy  town,  owing  to  its  situation  in  a 
most  fertile  district.  Since  it  was  brought  into  railway 
communication  ^vith  Riazhsk  (on  the  railway  between 
Moscow  and  Riazan)  it  has  acquired  still  more  importance, 
and  has  become  the  chief  centre  for  trade  in  wheat  raised 
ia  the  governments  of  Tamboft",  Penza,  SaratofiF,  and  in  the 
eastern  districts  of  the  government  of  Riazan.  Merchants 
from  Moscow,  Yaroslav,  Yladimir,  St  Petersburg,  and  the 
Baltic  ports  come  t,o  Morshansk  to  make  large  purchases 
of  grain,  flour,  hemp-seed,  tallow,  and  potash.  These  are 
seat,  either  to  the  Shilovskaya  loading-place,  or  by  rail  to 
Moscow.  There  are  in  Morshansk  several  steam  flour- 
mills,  distilleries,  and  large  store-houses  for  grain  ;  the 
town,  though  built  of  wood,  is  cleaner  than  most  of  the 
towns  of  the  black-earth  region.  Morshansk  has  also  some 
importance  for  the  import  of  manufactured  ware  brought 
from  the  north  and  sent  thence  to  the  villages  of  the  neigh- 
bouring districts.     Population,  20,000. 

MORTALITY  TABLES.  See  Insueance,  vol  xiii.  p. 
169  s?. 

MORTGAGE.  The  general  object  of  mortgage  is  to 
secure  a  money  debt  by  making  it  a  charge  on  land,  so  that, 
if  the  debt  be  not  paid  by  a  time  agi-eed  upon  between  the 
parties,  the  creditor  may  sell  the  land  and  pay  himself 
out  of  the  proceeds.  In  English  law  this  is  done  by  a 
conveyance  of  the  land  in  absolute  terms  to  the  creditor, 
subject  only  to  its  being  defeated  if  the  debt  should  be 
paid  at  the  time  fixed — an  arrangement  to  which  the  law 
has  attached  peculiar  incidents  designed  to  carry  out  its 
real  object.  An  absolute  conveyance,  however,  is  by  no 
means  essential  to  the  purposes  of  mortgage. 

The  histoiy  of  mortgage  transactions  in  Roman  law 
shows  three  well -marked  stages.  In  the  beginning  the 
estate  was  conveyed  absolutely  to  the  creditor,  who  made 
a  covenant  {fiducia)  to  reconvey  it  when  the  debt  should 
be  paid.  All  the  interest,  however,  in  the  meantime  passed 
from  the  debtor  to  the  creditor,  and  should  the  latter 
refuse  to  reconvey  there  was  no  remedy  to  the  original 
owner  except  a  personal  action.  In  the  second  stage 
(that  of  piffnus)  the  property  did  not  pass  to  the  creditor ; 
he  merely  received  possession  of  the  thing  pledged,  together 
with  certain  rights  of  sale,  &c.,  in  the  event  of  payment  not 
being  m.ade  at  the  time  appointed.  Lastly,  without  part- 
ing with  the  possession  even  of  the  pledge  the  debtor 
could  create  a  hen  or  charge  {kypotheca)  over  it  in  favour 
of  the  creditor,  who  acquired  thereby  a  right  on  failure 
of  payment  to  follow  the  thing  by  real  action  against  the 
possessor,  whosoever  he  might  be,  and  to  repay  himself 
from  the  proceeds  of  his  sale. 

The  mortgage  of  English  law  is  the  result  of  two  dis- 
tinct influences.  Its  origin  and  form  belong  to  the  common 
law ;  the  restrictions  by  which  it  is  made  to  serve  the 
purpose  of  a  security  only,  and  nothing  more,  belong  to  the 
courts  of  equity.  In  the  eye  of  the  common  law  the 
mortgagee  was  the  o-ivner  of  the  estate  conveyed  in  the 
mortgage ;  in  equity  the  mortgager  remains  the  real  owner, 
and  the  mortgagee  is  merely  an  encumbrancer.  A,  the 
owner  of  land  m  freehold,  conveys  to  B  and  his  heirs,  with 
a  proviso  that  on  repayment  of  money  lent  by  B  to  A,  on 


a  future  day,  with  interest  until  payment,  B  or  lib  hfirs 
will  reconvey  the  estate  to  A  and  his  heiri^,  and  that,  until 
default  be  made  in  payment,  A  and  his  heirs  may  hold 
without  interruption  from  B  and  his  heirs.  This  is  a 
common  mortgage  of  land,  and  at  law,  after  failure  of 
payment,  the  land  belonged  absolutely  to  the  mortgagee, 
while  in  the  meantime,  before  payment,  the  legal  estate 
was  considered  to  be  vested  in  him,  subject  only  to  being 
defeated  by  payment  at  the  proper  time.  The  Court  of 
Chancery  first  interfered  in  the  reign  of  James  L  to  decree 
a  redemption  after  forfeiture,  and  a  case  in  the  reigTi  of 
Charles  I.  decides  that  payment  after  forfeiture  has  the 
same  effect  as  payment  before.  The  right  of  the  mort- 
gager to  redeem  his  estate  after  it  has  been  forfeited, 
according  to  the  terms  of  the  deed,  is  called  his  equity  c' 
redemption.  No  agreement  between  the  parties  was  suffered 
to  oust  the  jurisdiction  of  the  court,  or  to  deprive  thf 
debtor  of  his  equity  of  redemption.  And  this  equity,  at 
first  regarded  as  a  mere  right  of  the  debtor,  became 
estabhshed  in  course  of  time  as  an  estate  in  land  which 
descended  to  the  heirs  of  the  mortgager.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  interest  of  the  mortgagee  is  part  of  his  personal 
estate,  and  passes  to  his  executor  and  not  to  his  heir.  In 
spite  of  the  terms  of  the  mortgage,  the  owner  of  the  land 
is  still  the  owner,  and  the  mortgagee  is  a  creditor  for  the 
money  he  advanced  and  the  interest  thereon.  It  may  be 
a  question  whether  a  given  deed  is  a  conveyance  or  a 
mortgage,  and  the  court,  in  deciding,  will  look  at  all  the 
circumstances  of  the  case,  and  will  treat  it  as  a  mortgage 
when  it  was  the  real  intention  of  the  parties  that  it  should 
operate  as  a  security  only.  Thus,  if  the  price  was  grossly 
inadequate,  if  the  purchaser  was  not  let  into  immediate  pos- 
session, if  he  accounted  for  the  rents  to  the  grantor,  retaining 
an  amoimt  equivalent  to  interest,  if  the  expense  of  the 
deed  was  borne  by  the  grantor,  there  would  be  reason  to 
believe  that  the  conveyance  was  only  meant  to  be  a  mort- 
gage. And  "  once  a  mortgage,  always  a  mortgage ; "  no 
subsequent  agreements  can  change  its  character. 

A  mortgagee  may,  however,  on  default  of  payment  file 
a  bill  of  foreclosure  requiring  the  mortgager  to  pay  the 
amoiuat  of  the  debt  with  interests  or  costs  by  an  appointed 
day,  or  submit  to  be  deprived  of  his  equity  of  redemption. 
The  effect  of  failure  to  pay  by  the  time  appointed  would 
be  to  make  the  mortgagee  absolute  owner  of  the  estate ; 
but  the  court  in  any  foreclosure  suit  may,  at  the  request 
of  either  side,  order  a  sale  'instead  of  a  foreclosure.  And 
a  power  of  sale  is  now  implied  as  one  of  the  incidents  of 
the  mortgage,  imless  forbidden  or  varied  by  express  des- 
tination. The  mortgagee  is  entitled  to  retain  out  of  the 
proceeds  of  the  sale  the  amount  of  his  principal,  interest, 
and  costs,  the  surplus  belonging  to  the  mortgager.  A 
mortgager  cannot  require  the  creditor  to  receive  payment 
before  the  time  appointed  in  the  deed ;  and,  on  default  of 
payment  at  the  appointed  time,  he  must  give  the  creditor 
six  months'  notice  of  his  intention  to  pay  off  the  mortgage, 
so  that  the  creditor  may  have  time  "to  look  out  lor  a 
fresh  security  for  his  money." 

When  the  same  land  is  successively  mortgaged  to  different 
persons,  their  rights  take  priority  according  to  their  chrono- 
logical order.  But  the  operation  of  equitable  doctrines 
in  the  formation  of  the  law  of  mortgage  leads  to  an  im- 
portant  modification  of  this  rule.  Of  the  successive  mort- 
gagees, the  first  only  takes  the  legal  estate,  and  this, 
according  to  the  maxim  of  the  Court  of  Chancery,  will 
turn  the  scale  when  there  is  an  equality  of  equitable  rights 
between  two  contracting  parlies.  Thus,  if  the  third  mort- 
gagee had  no  notice  at  the  time  of  making  his  advance  of 
the  existence  of  the  second  mortgagee,  the  equities  of  the 
two  claimants  are  supposed  to  be  equal,  and  if  nothing 
else  inten'ened  priority  of  time  would  decide  the  order  of 


0  R  — M  O  S 


849 


thdr  nghts.  But  if  the  third  mortgagee  gets  an  assign- 
ment of  the  first  mortgage,  he  can  tack  his  third  mortgage 
to  the  first,  and  so  postpone  the  second  mortgagee.  And 
if  tha  first  mortgagee  himself  makes  an  additional  advance 
after  the  date  of  the  second  mortgage,  but  without  notice 
of  it,  his  whole  debt  will  take  precedence,  of  the  second 
mortgagee.  A  similar  result  of  equitable  rules  is  seen  in 
the  consolidation  of  securities.  Two  separate  estates, 
mortgaged  at  different  times  and  for  -different  sums  of 
money  by  the  same  mortgager  to  the  same  mortgagee,  are 
regarded  as  consolidated,  so  that  the  whole  of  the  land 
becomes  security  for  the  whole  of  the  money,  and  the 
owner  cannot  redeem  either  mortgage  without  redeeming 
the  other.  So  that,  as  Mr  Justice  Williams  reasons,  no 
person  can  safely  lend  money  on  a  second  mortgage,  for, 
in  addition  to  the  risk  of  a  third  mortgagee  tacking,  there 
is  the  danger  that,  if  the  mortgager  should  have  mortgaged 
another  estate  for  more  than  its  value,  the  holder  of  the 
deficient  security  may  buy  in  the  first  mortgage,  consoli- 
date it  with  his  own,  and  exclude  the  second  mortgagee. 

An  eqnitable  mortgage  is  constituted  simply  by  the 
deposit  of  title-deeds  in  security  for  money  advanced. 
The  enactment  of  the  Statute  of  Frauds  that  no  action  shall 
be  brought  on  "any  contract  or  sale  of  lands,"  (Sic,  or  any 
interests  in  or  concerning  them  unless  the  agreement  be 
in  writing  and  signed  by  the  party  to  be  charged,  has  been 
cited  as  incompatible  with  the  recognition  of  equitable 
mortgages,  but  it  is  argued  by  Lord  Abinger  that  the  Act 
\va3  never  meant  to  affect  such  a  transaction.  The  deeds 
which  are  the  evidence  of  title  could  not  be  recovered  in 
an  action  at  law,  and,  it  they  were  claimed  in  equity,  the 
court  would  require  the  claimant  to  do  equity  by  repaying 
the  money  borrowed  on  the  deposit.  Any  subsequent 
legal  mortgagee,  having  notice  of  the  deposit,  will  be  post- 
poned to  the  equitable  mortgagee,  and  when  the  legal 
mortgagee  has  not  inquired  as  to  the  title-deeds  the  court 
will  impute  to  him  such  knowledge  as  he  would  have 
acquired  if  he  had  made  inquiry 

As  to  mortgages  of  personal  property  see  Pledge. 

United  States. — In  the  United  States  there  b  great  diversity  in 
the  extent  to  which  equitable  principles  have  been  formally  substi- 
tuted for  the  rules  of  the  common  law  in  dealing  with  mortgages. 
Washburn  (Law  of  Heal  Property,  vol.  ii )  arranges  the  States  into 
three  "pretty  wel^- defined  classes."  In  the  first,  the  mortgage 
deed  is  hold  to  create  a  seizin  of  ard  ah  estate  in  the  premises,  with 
all  its  common  law  incidents,  to  be  enforced  if  need  be  by  eject- 
ment. In  the  second,  the  mortgagee's  rights  are  limited  to  such 
as  the  roles  of  equity  prescribe,  and  may  not  be  enforced  by  a  suit 
at  law.  In  tho  third,  the  mortgagee's  interest  is  not  deemed  an 
estate  at  all,  but  is  here  only  to  be  enforced  by  t)ie  sale  of  the  pre- 
mises as  a  means  of  paying  the  debt.  In  tho  first  class  come 
Massachusetts,  Maine,  Connecticut,  Kow  Hampshire,  Rhode  Island, 
Vermont,  Indiana,  Missouri,  North  Carolina,  Mississippi,  Minnesota ; 
Sh  the  second,  Iowa,  Illinois,  Pennsylvania,  Kentucky,  Ohio, 
Wisconsin,  and  Texas ;  in  the  third,  Califomia,  Georgia,  and  New 
York,  to  Avhich  may  be  added  Oregon  (K  K.) 

MORTIFICATION,  a  term  used  in  surgery  signifying 
a  local  death.  Any  cause  which  interferes  with  the  blood- 
supply  of  a  portion  of  the  body  will,  if  sufficiently  pro- 
longed or  sufficiently  severe,  give  rise  to  mortification.  In 
some  cases  the  death  may  be  preceded  by  inflammation ; 
in  others,  as  in  old  people  with  diseased  vessels,  the  part 
may  die  in  consequence  simply  of  insufficient  blood-aupply 
without  any  previous  inflammation.  The  part  is  said  to 
mortify ;  the  process  is  termed  gangrene ;  the  dead  part  is 
called  a  slough.  A  severe  injury  may  end  in  mortifica- 
tion. Extreme  heat  as  in  severe  burns,  or  extreme  cold 
as  in  frost-bite,  may  give  rise  to  the  condition.  Those 
parts  of  the  body  farthest  from  the  centre  of  the  circula- 
tion are  most  liable  to  mortification.  Frost-bite,  for  ex- 
ample, may  attack  the  toes  or  fingers  as  well  aa  those 
parts  which  are  most  exposed  to  the  cold,  more  particu- 
larly the  point  of  the  nose  or  the  ears.     The  part  affected 

lft-32 


becomes  pale,  bloodleBS,  cold,  and  insensible.  The  great 
point  to  attend  to  is  to  restore  the  circulation  gradually; 
using  gentle  friction.  If  the  person  is  brought  before  a 
fire,  or  if  any  hot  applicatioas  are  used,  then  a  rapid  re- 
action may  issue  in  a  severe  inflammation,  which  may  be 
followed  by  mortification.  Chilblain  is  a  mild  form  of 
frOst-bite  occurring  in  young  people  with  sluggish  circula- 
tions, very  often  caused  by  sitting  down  before  a  strong 
fire  with  cold  feet ;  any  one  suffering  from  cold  feet  or 
hands  should  take  plenty  of  exercise,  and  if  after  a  return 
from  a  sharp  walk  the  feet  remain  cold  the  heat  should  bo 
restored  by  rubbing  with  a  rough  towel. 

MORTMAIN,  Statutes  of.  The  object  and  effect  of 
these  enactments  are  treated  in  the  articles  Chaeitv  and 
CoEPOEAiioN  (q.v.).  The  following  is  a  list  of  the  Mort- 
main Acts : — 

9  Henry  III.  c  36  (Magna  Charta) ;  7  Edward  I.  st.  2,  c.  1 
(De  Keligiosis) ;  13  Edward  I.  c.  82  ;  13  Edward  I.  c.  41  ;  18  Ed- 
ward I.  St.  1,  c.  3  ;  27  Edward  I.  st.  2 ;  34  Edward  I.  st  3 ;  18 
Edward  III,  st.  3,  c.  3  ;  15  Richard  II.  c.  6  ;  21  Henry  VIII.  c.  6, 
8.  5  ;  23  Henry  VIII.  c.  10  ;  1  and  2  Philip  and  Mary,  c.  8,  s.  51 ; 
35  Elizabeth,  e.'  4  ;  21  James  I.  c.  1  ;  13  and  14  Charles  II.  c  6, 
s.  10  ;  29  Charles  II.  c.  8 ;  7  and  8  William  III.  c.  37j  9  George  II. 
c.  36  ;  43  George  III.  c.  108 ;  9  George  IV.  c.  85 :  and  2  aiid  $ 
William  IV.  c.  115. 

MORTON,  James  Douglas,  fourth  earl  of  (1530-1581), 
regent  of  Scotland,  second  son  of  Sir  George  Douglas  of 
Pittendriech,  was  bom  at  Dalkeith  in  1530.  Having 
married  Elizabeth,  daughter  of  the  third  earl  of  Morton, 
he  through  her  succeeded  in  1553  to  the  title  and  estates 
of  his  father-in-law.  After  the  return  of  Queen  Mary  in 
1561  he  was  chosen  a  privy  councillor,  and  in  1563  he 
became  lord  high  chancellor.  Though  his  sympathies  were 
Protestant,  he  took  no  part  in  the  combination  of  Protestant 
barons  in  1565,  but  he  headed  the  armed  force  of  150  men 
who  took  possession  of  Holyrood  Palace  to  effect  the  assas- 
sination of  Eizzio,  and  it  was  to  his  house  that  the  leading 
conspirators  adjourned  while  a  messenger  was  sent  to  obtain 
Mary's  signature  to  the  "  bond  of  security."  The  queen, 
before  complying  with  the  request,  escaped  to  Dunbar, 
and  on  her  return  to  Edinburgh  with  an  escort  of  2000 
men  Morton  and  the  other  leaders  fled  to  England.  After 
her  marriage  with  Bothwell,  Morton  returned,  and  with 
600  men  appeared  before  Borthwick  Castle,  where  the 
queen,  in  dread  of  a  rising,  had  taken  refuge.  He  was 
present  at  the  remarkable  conference  at  Carberry  Hill, 
and  he  also  took  an  active  part  in  obtaining  the  consent 
of  the  queen  at  Lochleven  to  an  abdication.  Thereupon 
he  was  reappointed  lord  high  chancellor,  and  also  succeeded 
Bothwell  as  lord  high  admiral.  On  the  death  of  the  earl 
of  Mar  he  became  regent  (October  1572).  Through  his 
persistence  in  recovering  the  crown  jewels  from  the  countess 
of  Argyll,  widow  of  the  earl  of  Moray,  Morton  awakened 
the  bitter  animosity  of  Argyll  and  Athole,  who  persuaded 
the  young  king  James  VI.  to  assume  the  government. 
Morton  deemed  it  prudent  to  resign,  and  for  a  time  retired 
to  Lochleven,  but  shortly  afterwards,  with  the  assistance 
of  his  nephew,  the  earl  of  Mar,  he  obtained  possession  of 
Stirling  Castle,  where  the  king  was  residing,  and  thus  for 
a  time  recovered  his  old  influence.  Suddenly,  however, 
he  was  accused  by  James  Stewart,  earl  of  Arran,  of  having 
taken  part  in  the  murder  of  Damley,  the  father  of  the 
king,  and  being  tried  by  a  jury  of  sixteen  peers,  mosrt  of 
whom  were  his  enemies,  was  condemned  to  death  ^nd  .be- 
headed on  2d  Jime  1581. 

MORVEAU.    See  Guyton  ds  Morvead. 

MOSAIC  (late  Greek  ^Jiji^cxris,  from  >/^4">^,  a  small 
stone ;  also  fiova-etov,  i.e.,  refined,  delicate  work ;  hence  the 
Latin  opua  musivum)  is  the  fitting  together  of  many, 
generally  small,  pieces  of  marble,  opaque  glass,  coloured 
clays,  or  other  substances,  so  as  to  form  a  pattern  :  the 
XVL  —  107 


850 


MOSAIC 


dosign  may  bo  of  various  degi'ces  of  elaboratiQii,  from  the 
simplest,  almost  monochroniatic,  geometrical  pattern  to 
the  rcost  elalici-ate  picture,  with  figiure-subjects  represented 
in  colouis  of  countless  gradations. 

The  earliest  existing  specimens  of  mosaic  belong  to  one 
of  the  less  important  branches  of  the  art  —  namely,  the 
ornamentation  on  a  small  scale  of  jewellery,  ivory  thrones, 
and  other  furniture,  or  more  rarely  of  some  elaborate  archi- 
tectural ornament.  Most  of  thi.s  earliest  Eorfc  of  mosaic 
resembles  in  exci":ution  what  arc  called  cloisonn'ee  enamels. 
In  the  Louvre  and  in  the  British  JIuseura  are  preserved 
some  very  beautiful  ivory  carvings  in  low  relief,  some  from 
Nineveh  and  others  from  Egypt,  iu  which  figures  of  deities, 
ornaments  formed  of  the  lotus  and  papjTUS  plants,  and 
royal  cartouches  are  enriched  by  small  pieces  of  glass  or 
lapis-lazuli  and  other  gem-liko  stones,  which  arc  let  into 
holes  made  in  the  ivory.  Each  minute  piece  is  separated 
from  the  next  by  a  thin  wall  or  clohon  of  ivory,  about  as 
thick  as  cardboard,  which  thus  forms  a  white  outline,  and 
.sets  off  the  brilliance  of  the  coloured  stones.  The  favourite 
pattern  in  this  sort  of  work  for  decorating  the  larger  sur- 
faces appears  to  have  been  suggested  by  the  feathers  on  a 
bu-d's  v.-ing.     See  Ivoky,  vol.  siii.  pi.  vii.  fig.  3. 

Recent  exeavatioriS  at  Tel  al-YAhudfya  in  Lower  Egypt 
have  brought  to  b'ght  some  mosaics  on  a  larger  scale,  but 
treated  in  the  same  way.  These  are  caps  of  columns,  wall 
tiles,  and  other  objects,  either  of  white  limestone  or  earthen- 
ware, ia  which  designs,  chiefly  some  forms  of  the  papyrus, 
Ero  formed  by  brilliantly-coloured  bits  of  glass  or  enamelled 
earthenware,  let  into  a  sinking  in  the  tUe  or  column. 
This  form  of  mosaic  was  employed  by  the  Greeks :  the 
Erechiieom  at  Athens,  built  in  the  middle  of  the  5th 
century  e.g.,  had  tho  bases  of  some  of  its  white  marble 
columns  ornamented  with  a  plait -like  design,  in  which- 
pieces  of  coloured  glass  were  inserted  to  emphasize  the 
main  lines  of  the  pattern. 

Another,  quite  different  soi't  of  mosaic  was  known  to 
tho  Egj'ptians  of  the  Ptolemaic  and  Eoman  periods.  This 
is  made  entirely  of  glass,  ar-d  is  extremely  miniite.  The 
finest  known  specimen  is  in  tho  Britisii  I'useum :  it  is  a 
small  tablet  about  three-eighths  of  an  inch  square,  apparently 
tho  bezel  of  a  ring,  on  which  is  represc.ited  the  sacred 
liawk,^-cvery  feather  on  the  bird's  wing  being  produced 
with  a  great  number  of  colours  and  tints,  each  quitj  dis- 
tinct, and  so  minute  that  a  strong  magnifying  glass  is 
■  required  to  distinguish  its  details. 

The  way  in  which  this  wonderful  little  mosaic  wiis  pro- 
duced is  extremely  ingenious.  Numbers  of  long  sticks  of 
various-coloured  glass  Y,-ere  arranged  in  such  a  way  that 
their  ends  produced  tho  figuis  of  the  hav.'k ;  other  sticks 
of  blue  glass  were  placed  aU  round  so  as  to  form  the 
ground.  The  whole  bundle  of  sticks  of  glass  when  looked 
at  endwise  now  presented  tho  figure  of  the  hawk  with  a 
blue  backgroimd,  immensely  larger  than  it  afterwards  be- 
came. The  bundlo  was  then  heated  tiU  the  sticks  melted 
together,  and  tho  wholo  thick  rod,  softened  by  fire,  was 
then  drawn  out  to  a  greatly-diminished  thickness.  In 
this  process  the  relative  positions  of  the  sticks  of  coloured 
glass  forming  tho  design  were  not  altered.  A  slice  of  the 
rod  was  thzn  cut  ofl',  and  its  faces  polished, — tho  design, 
much  reduced  in  size,  of  course  being  equally  visible  at 
both  sides  of  tho  slice  ;  and  thus  the  microscopic  minute- 
ness of  the  mosaic  was  produced,  with  astonishing  delicacy 
and  refinement ;  many  slices,  each  showing  the  same 
mosaic,  could  bo  cut  from  tho  same  rod. 

The  more  important  use  of  mosaic  has  been  on  a  large 
scale  either  for  pavements  or  for  walla  and  vaulted  ceil- 
ingu.  Mosaic  for  these  purposes  has  by  many  writei-s,  both 
ancient  and  modem,  been  divided  on  various  systems  into 
<!.'',2M3a;  periiapsthe  simplest  classification  is  thefollowing: — 


I.  For  PavemontiA  —  (a)  TesselcJed,  in  which  the  de£'.;::i 
is  formed  of  small  cubes,  generally  of  marble,  more  rarely 
of  glass  or  clay;  (u)  Scciile,  formed  of  larger  pieces  of 
marble,  shaped  and  cut  so  as  to  fit  accurately  one  with 
another.  II.  For  Walls  and  Vaults: — Fictile  or  vermicii- 
laifd ;  pieces  o!  opaque  glass,  in  email  cubes,  arranged  so 
as  to  form  complicated  pictures. 

This  classification  is  not  altogether  satisfactory,  more 
than  one  method  often  behig  employed  in  the  same  mosaic; 
as,  e.g.,  in  the  "  opus  Alexandrinura  "  of  mediaeval  writers, 
which  is  often  partly  tesselated  and  partly  sectilo. 

Until  Koman  times  we  knov,-  but  little  of  these  kinds  of 
mosaic.  There  is  some  evidence  (in  Pliny  and  other 
writers)  to  show  that  elaborate  mosaic  pavements,  Xi66- 
(rrptDTov  or  Xi$o\i-p)iJjx,  were  m.ade  by  tho  Greeks  in  the 
4th  century  B.C.,  or  even  earlier ;  but  most  or  the  nu- 
merous fine  specimens  of  tesselated  work  still  existing  in 
Greece,  such  as  these  at  Sparta  and  Athens,  must  be  re- 
ferred to  the  lime  of  the  Roman  occupation.  Tlie  best 
e:3:ample3  of  Hellenic  mosaic  are  some  pavements  dis- 
coTijred  during,  the  recent  excavations  at  Olympia  (see 
fig.  1  and  Ansgrahingen  sk  O/ym^ta,' 1877-82). 

Among  the  Romans  the  use  of  mosaic,  both  of  marble 
and  opaque  glass,  was  very  extensive.  According  to 
Pliny  {H.N'.,  sxxvi.  25),  they  derived  this  art  from  the 
Greeks,  but  not  until  the  time  o?  the  Tliird  Punic  War,  HG 
B.C.,  while  glass  mosaics  for  waUri,  "vitreaj'  parietcs," 
were  a  recent  invention  in  his  time.  Many  of  these  have 
been  foimd  at  Pompeii;  most  commonly  they  are  used  to 
decorate  niches  for  fountains  or  statuettes.  Judging  from 
the  description  given  by  Vitruvius  (vii.  1 ),  and  an  examina- 
tion of  numerous  specimens  of  Roman  tesselated  mosaics, 


F;o.  1.— Grook  Pavement  from  tl'.c  Tci^ipio  of  Zeis  i.t  Olyraiii 


the  process  of  manufacture  was  the  following.  The  earth 
was  first  carefully  rammed  down  to  a  firm  and  even  surface ; 
on  this  was  laid  a  thick  bed  of  stones,  dry  rubbish,  and  lime^ 
called  "rudus,"  from  6  to  9  inches  deep,  au<l  above  this 
another  layer,  4  to  6  inches  thick,  called  "  nucleus,"  of  one 
part  of  lime  to  three  of  poundetl  brick,  mixed  with  water ; 
on  this,  while  still  soft,  the  pattern  could  bo  sketched  out 
mth  a  wooden  or  metal  point,  and  the  tes-serx  or  small  bits 
of  marble  stuck  into  it,  with  their  smoothest  side  upper- 
most. Lime,  pounded  while  marble,  and  water  were  then 
mixed  to  tho  consistency  of  cream,  forming  a  very  hard- 
setting  cement,  called  "  marmoratum."  This  cement,  while 
fiuid,  was  poured  over  the  marble  siu'face,  and  well  brushed 
into  all  the  interstices  between  the  tssserse.     When  the 


MOSAIC 


«51 


concrete  anJ  cement  were  both  set,  the  surface  of  the  pave- 
ment ■nas  ruhVed  down  and  polished.  This  kind  of  mosaic 
wa3  largely  used  for  floors  of  hypocausts ;  the  concrete  bed 
was  then  supported  on  large  tiles  resting  on  numbers  of 
short  pillars. 

If  used  for  upper  floors  very  strong  joists  were  re- 
quired, and  both  Pliny  (xsxvi.  25)  and  Vitraviua  (vii.  1) 
recommend  a  double  layer  of  boards,  one  crossing  the  other, 
on  which  the  concrete  and  cement  bedding  was  to  bo  laid. 

The  usual  Koman  pavement  was  made  of  pieces  of 
marble,  averaging  from  a  half  to  a  quarter  of  an  inch  square, 
but  rather  irregular  in  shape.  A  few  other,  but  quite 
exceptional,  kinds  of  mosaic  pavements  have  been  found, 
such  as  that  at  the  Isok  Farnese,  9  miles  from  Eome, 
made  of  tile-like  slabs  of  green  glass,  and  a  fine  "  sectile  " 
pavement  on  the  Palatine  Hill,  made  of  various-shaped 
pieces  of  glass,  in  black,  white,  and  dfeep  yellow.  In  some 
cases — e.ff.,  in  the  "  House  of  the  F^un  "  at  Pompeii — glass 
tesserse  in  small  quantities  have  been  mbced  with  the 
marble  ones,  for  the  sake  of  greater  brilliance  of  colour. 
Pompeii  is  especially  rich  in  its  mosaics  both  on  floor  and 
walls,  almost  every  house  having  at  least  its  vestibule 
paved  in  this  way. 

In  addition  to  graceful  floiring  patterns  and  geomctricul  de- 
signs, picture-like  subjects  of  gi-eat  elaboration  frecpently  occur: 
of  these  the  most  important  is  the  larOT  and  minutelj'-cxccuted 
eceneofthebattleoflssus,  found  in  the  "House  of  the  Faun."  Itia 
of  special  value  as  being  the  chief  classical  historical  pictui-e  still 
existing.  It  is  a  well-desi.r^ed  though  somewhat  crowded  com- 
p  jsition,  representing  the  moment  of  Alexander's  victDi-ious  charge 
.-.c;ainst  the  cavalry  of  Daiius.  The  expression  of  the  faces  and 
t!;e  chttTacteriStic  dresses  of  the  Greeks  and  Persians  are  repre- 
sented with  great  skill  (see  fig.  2).  The  tesserce,  aa  was  always 
tho  case  in  this  sort  of  work,  are  not  all  the  same  size,  the  smallest 
(only  about  one-t»;nth  of  an  inch  squai-c)  being  reserved  for  the  faces, 
wV.ere  greatest  rciinemcnt  of  detail  was  required.  This  was  a  floor- 
iMiiaic,  thouch  generally  these  rainutelyexecuted  works  were 
itff'Xed  to  wells. 

The  most  skilfully-executed  of  all  existing  mosaics  of  this  pictorial 
kind  is  that  knox^ni  as  **  Pliny's  Doves,"  found  in  Hadrian's  villa 
at  Tivoli,  and  now  ia  the  Canitoiine  Museum.  It  may  possibly  be 
the  one  so  highly  praised  by  Pliny  (xxxvi.  25)  as  the  work  of  Sosus, 
for,  although  ho  describes  it  as  being  at  Pergamum,  yet  it  was  a 
commou  practice  mth  the  Eom.in3  to  transport  these  mosaics  from 
one  place  to  another,  and  this  verj'  celebrated  one  m.iy  well  have 
been  brought  to  Tivoli  to  adorn  the  emperor's  villa.  It  is  treated 
in  a  vei-y  realistic  way  :  the  light  on  the  gold  bowl,  the  pluma"e  of 
the  doves,  and  especially  the  reflexion  in  the  water  of  the  drinking 
dove,  are  represented  with  wonderful  skill.  It  is,  in  fact,  far  too 
pictoi-ial,  and,  like  the  late  mosaics  in  St  Peter's,  Rome,  is  more 
remarkable  for  its  technical  skill  than  for  any  real  artistic  merit. 
This  exeessive  realism,  produced  mth  great  difhculty  and  cost,  is 
a  not  uncommon  fault  of  the  more  elaborate  Roman  mosaics,  and 
was  the  inevitable  result  of  the  luxury  and  ostentation  of  imperial 
Home,  which  made  art  the  bond-slave  of  the  wealthy,  rather  than 
tile  free  and  natiu-al  expression  of  a  whole  people,  as  it  was  among 
the  earlier  Greeks. 

Another  interesting  mosaic  from  the  wall  of  a  house  at  Pompeii, 
of  e.ttremely  delicate  work,  is  a  rehearsal  scene  in  a  Greek  theatre, 
where  the  choregiis  is  instructing*  the  actors :  it  is  specially  re- 
niarkable  from  its  being  signed  as  the  work  of  Dioscoridcs  of 
Samos.  Other  tigiu-e-subjects  are  not  uncommon,  such  as  various 
representations  of  the  victory  of  Theseus  over  the  Minotam-,  others 
of  Achilles  in  Scyros,  many  hunting  scenes,  and  the  like. 

Throughout  England,  Germany,  France,  Spain,  Asia 
Minor,  and  Northern  Africa  in  no  way  have  signs  of 
Boman  occupation  been  left  so  clearly  and  in  so  con- 
spicuous a  form  as  by  the  numerous  large  and  generally 
well-preserved  mosaic  pavements  which  have  at  various 
times  been  discovered  in  all  these  countries.  In  many 
cases,  long  after  all  traces  of  the  walls  of  the  buildings 
have  disappeared,  owing  to  their  being  dug  up  and  re- 
moved for  building  purposes,  the  mosaics  still  remain  to 
tdstify  of  the  artistic  power  and  mechanical  skill  of  the 
Bonian  colonists. 

Few  countries  are  richer  than  England  in  these  remains ; 
the  great  pavements  of  York,  Woodchester,  Cirencester, 
and  many  other  places  are  as  elaborate  in  design  and  as 


skilfully  executed  as  any  that  now  exist  even  in  Rome 
itself.  In  whatever  country  these  mosaics  are  found, 
their  style  and  method  of  treatment  are  always  much  the 
same;  the  materials  only  of  which  the  tesserse  are  mad^ 
vary  according  to  the  stone  or  marble  supplied  by  each 
country.  In  England,  for  instance,  limestone  or  chalk 
often  takes  the  place  of  the  white  marble  so  common  in 
Italian  and  North  African  mosaics ;  while,  instead  of  red 
marble,  a  fine  sort  of  burnt  clay  or  red  sandstone  is  gene- 
rally used ;  other  makeshifts  had  to  be  resorted  to,  and 
many  of  the  Anglo-Pioman  mosaics  are  made  entirely  with- 
out marble.  It  is  perhaps  partly  owing  to  the  great 
wealth  of  Northern  Africa  in  marbles  of  many  colours  and 
of  varying  shades  that  the  finest  of  all  Eoman  mosaics 
have  been  found  in  Algeria  and  Tunis,  especially  those 


'3  Hcia  from  tlic  Battle  of  Issni ;  ftiU  blse. 


from  Carthage,  some  of  which  have  been  brought  to  the 
British  Museum.     See  Archosoloffin,  vol.  xxxviii.  p.  202. 

The  range  of  colotir  in  the  marble  tesserre  is  very  great, 
and  is  made  use  of  with  wonderful  taste  and  «kill :  there 
are  three  or  fotir  difl"erent  shades  of  red,  and  an  eijual 
number  of  yellows  and  greens,  the  last  colour  in  all  its 
tints  being  almost  peculiar  to  this  jjart  of  Africa,  and  one 
of  the  most  pleasant  and  harmoniou.s  in  almost  any  com- 
bination. Deep  black,  browns,  and  bluisli-^'reys  are  also 
abundant.  The  white  marble  which  forms  the  grotmd  of 
nearly  aU  the  designs-^s  often  not  pure  white,  but  slightly 
striated  with  grey,  giving  great  solLiiess  and  buiuty  of 
texture  to  the  surface,  and  doing  away  with  too  great 
monotony  of  tone.  The  Boman  practice,  common  to  all 
their  mosaics,  of  not  fitting  the  tessene  quite  closely 
together,  but  allowing  the  cement  joints  to  show  freoly, 
was  also  of  gieat  value  in  giving  effect  to  the  general 
texture  of  the  surface — a  jioiut  quite  forgotten  by  some 
later  mosaic-workers,  who  thought  that  the  closer  their 
tessene  were  fitted  together  the  better  the  mosaic  would 
be.  This  remark  does  not  apply  to  sectile  mosaic,  in  which 
sufficient  variety  can  be  given  by  the  markings  and  veins 
in  each  piece  of  marble.  To  return  to  the  mosaics  from 
Carthage,  they  are  no  less  excellent  in  design  than  in 
the  richness  and  beauty  of  their  materials.     Large  spaces 


852 


MOSAIC 


are  filled  by  grand  sweeping  curces  of  acantKus  and  other 
leaves,  drawn  with  wonderful  boldness  and  freedom  of 
hand,  and  varied  with  great  wealth  of  invention.  With- 
out the  use  of  very  small  tesserae,  much  richness  of  effect 
is  given  by  gradations  of  tints,  suggesting  light  and 
shade,  without  a  painful  attempt  to  represent  actual  relief. 
The  colours  of  the  marbles  used  here  and  elsewhere  by  the 
Komans  are  so  quiet  and  harmonious  that  it  would  have 
]bcen  almost  imposbible  to  produce  \vith  them  a  harsh  or 
'glarii:;;  design,  and  when  used  with  the  skill  and  strong 
artistic  feeling  of  the  mosaic-workers  at  Carthage  the 
re^alt  is  a  real  masterpiece  of  decorative  design.  In 
Kome,  and  in  the  Koman  colonies  of  Europe,  this  kind  of 
marble  tesselated  mosaic  was  largely  produced,  with  but 
Jittle  alteration  in  style  or  method  of  treatment,  till  the 
4th  century.  In  Syria  and  Asia  Minor  the  art  survived 
some  centuries  later. 

rcrliaps  tlic  lutcbt  cxistin*;  example  in  Rome  13  that  which  deco- 
rates the  vault  of  the  ambulatory  of  the  circular  church  of  S. 
'CosMiiza.  built  bv  Conitautiue  the  Great  (320),  outside  the  walls 
of  Rome.  Thi."  very  interestiDg  mosaic  might  from  its  style  and 
materials  have  beeu  executed  in  the  1st  centiuy,  and  is  equal  in 
beauty  to  any  work  of  the  kind  in  Italy.  It  shows  no  trace  what- 
ever of  the  Byzantine  influence  which,  iu  the  next  century,  intro- 
duced into  Italy  a  novel  style  of  mosaic,  in  materials  of  the  most 
glilteiing  splendour.  These  S.  Costanza  mosaics  are  almost  unique 
in  Italy  as  an  application  of  the  old  classical  marble  mosaic  to  the 
decoration  of  a  Cbiistiaji  church.  On  the  main  compartment  of  the 
vault  the  surface  is  covered  by  vine  branches,  laden  with  grapes, 
twining  in  graceful  cur\  es  over  the  space.  In  the  centre  is  a  large 
medallion  with  life-sized  male  bust,  and  at  the  lower  part  are  vintage 
scenes — oxen  carts  bringing  the  grapes,  and  boys  treading  them  in 
a  vat.  Other  more  gcometiical  designs,  of  circles  fi'aming  busts  and 
full-length  figures,  with  giaceful  borders,  cover  other  parts  of  the 
vault.  Farther  east  this  classical  style  of  mosaic  appears  to  have 
lasted  till  the  6tli  century.  At  Kabr-Hiraiu,  near  Tyre,  JI.  Renan 
discovered  among  the  ruins  of  a  small  thi-ee-apsed  Christian  church 
a  fine  mosaic  pavement,  coveting  the  nave  and  aisles,  thoroughly 
classical  in  style.  The  design,  consi^ing  of  circles  enclosing  figures 
emblematic  of  the  seasons,  the  months,  and  the  winds,  is  almost 
the  same  as  that  of  some  mosaics  discovered  on  the  site  of  the  Roman 
Italica  near  Seville,  and  othei-s  at  Ephesus  and  Halicarnassus  in 
Asia  Jlinor.  No  trace  of  other  than  classical  influence  is  visible, 
and  yet  it  is  pretty  clear,  from  the  evidence  of  an  inscription,  inlaid 
among  the  marble  tesserre,  that  the  date  of  this  pavement  is  not 
earlier  than  the  latter  part  of  the  6th  century.  A  very  similar 
mosaic,  of  about  the  same  date,  was  discovered  at  Neby  Yunas,  near 
£idan. 

Medistval  Mosaics. — These  may  be  divided  into  four 
principal  classes: — (1)  those  used  to  decorate  walls  and 
.vaults,  made  of  glass  cubes  ;  (2)  those  for  pavements,  made 
of  marble,  partly  in  large  shaped  pieces,  and  partly  in  small 
tesserae ;  (3)  glass  in  small  pieces,  either  rectangular  or 
triangular,  used  to  enrich  marble  pulpits,  columns,  and 
other  architectural  featiu-es  ;  (4)  wood  mosaics. 

1 .  The  wall  mosaics  were,  in  their  origin,  purely  Byzan- 
tine, and  appear  to  date  from  the  beginning  of  the  5th 
century.  They  are  made  of  coloured  glass,  rendered  opa'^ue 
by  the  addition  of  oxide  of  tin.  The  melted  glass  was  cast 
into  flat  slabs,  generally  about  half  an  inch  thick,  and  then 
broken  into  small  cubes.  Every  possible  colour  and  grada- 
tion of  tint  was  produced  by  the  mediaeval  glassmakers. 
Tessera;  of  gold  (which  were  very  largely  used)  and^of 
-silver  were  made  thus : — the  metal  leaf  was  spread  over 
one  of  the  glass  slabs,  the  colour  of  which  did  not  matter, 
its  it  was  hidden  by  the  gold  or  silver ;  over  this  metal- 
coated  slab  a  skin  of  colourless  glass  was  fused,  so  as  to 
protect  the  metal  leaf  from  injiu-y  or  tarnish ;  and  then 
the  slab  was  broken  up  into  cubes,  the  }f^<f^i  x/)vo-€oi  of 
iiiyzantine  writers. 

The  method  of  putting  together  the  mosaic  w«s  much 
the  same  es  that  employed  by  the  Romans  in  their  tesse- 
lated pavements.  A  thick  coat  of  cement  was  applied  to 
thb  wall  or  vault,  the  outline  indicated  witli  a  r.-.etal  jwint, 
nod  the  cubc-i  stuck  ono  by  one  into  the  cement  while  it 


was  yet  soft, — the  main  diiTerence  being  that  no  rubbing 
down  and  polishing  were  required,  the  faces  of  the  glass 
tesserae  showing  the  natural  surface  of  the  fracture,  which 
was  not  quite  level,  and  by  this  slight  ineqtiality  of  surface 
great  additional  lustre  and  briUiauco  of  clTcct  were  given 
to  the  whole  picture. 

Owing  to  the  intense  conservatism  of  Byzantine  art,  no- 
regular  stages  of  progression  can  be  traced  iu  this  class  of 
mosaic.  Some  of  the  5th  century  mosaics  at  Ravenna  are, 
in  every  way,  as  fine  as  those  of  the  12th,  and  it  was  not 
till  the  end  of  the  13th  century  that  any  important  change 
in  style  took  place,  when  Cimabuo,  and  more  especially 
his  pupils  Jacopo  da  Turrita  and  Taddeo  Gaddi,  applied 
their  increased  knowledge  of  the  human  form  and  of  the 
harmonies  of  colour  to  the  production  of  the  most  beau- 
tiful of  all  mosaics,  such  as  those  in  the  apse  of  S.  JIaria 
JIaggiore  in  Rome.  -It  must  not,  however,  be  supposed  that 
during  all  this  time  (from  the  5th  to  the  lith  century) 
one  steady  level  of  excellence  was  kept  up.  The  mosaics 
of  the  9th  century  are  inferior  in  drawing  and  general 
treatment  to  those  both  of  the  earlier  and  later  time,  while 
in  Italy  at  least  this  art  was  almost  entirely  extinct  during 
the  10th  and  1 1th  centuries.  Extreme  splendour  of  colour, 
and  jewel-like  brilliance  combined  with  the  most  stately 
grandeur  of  form  are  the  main  characteristic  of  this  sort  of 
decoration.  Its  most  frequent  application  is  to  the  sanc- 
tuary arch  and  apse  of  the  early  basilicas. 

A  "majesty,"  or  colossal  central  figiiro  of  Christ  with  saints 
standing  on  each  side,  is  the  most  frequent  motive.  In  many 
cases,  especially  in  the  5th  and  6th  centuries,  Christ  was  represented 
as  a  lamb,  to  whom  the  twelve  apostles,  in  the  fomi  of  sheep,  aro 
pajing  adoration.  Christ,  the  Good  Shepherd,  is  sometimes  depicted 
as  a  beardless  youth,  seated  among  a  circle  of  sheep — the  treatment 
of  the  motive  being  obviously  taken  from  pa,gan  representations 
of  Orpheus  playing  to  the  beasts.  The  tomb  of  Galla  Placidia  ii.as 
a  good  example  of  this  subject,  with  much  of  the  old  Roman  grace 
in  the  drawing  and  composition.  Frequently  the  Virgin  Mary,  or 
the  patron  saint  of  the  church,  occupies  the  centi'al  space  in  the 
apse,  with  ranges  of  other  saints  on  each  side. 

The  "  Doom,"  or  Last  Judgment,  is  a  favourite  subject  for  domes 
and  sanctuary  arches ;  the  Florence  baptistery  has  one  of  the  grandest 
mosaic  pictm'cs  of  this  subject,  executed  in  tlie  13th  century.  Tho 
earlier  buptisteries  usually  have  the  scene  of  Clirist's  baptism, — tho 
river  Jordan  being  sometimes  personified  in  a  very  classical  mannei^' 
as  an  old  man  with  flowing  beard,  holding  an  urn  from  wiiich  s 
stream  pours  fonh.  S.  Vitale  at  Ravenna  has  in  tho  sanctuary  a 
very  interesting  representation  of  Justinian  and  his  cmpre.ss  Theo- 
dora (see  fig.  3),  attended  by  a  numerous  suite  of  courtiers  and 
ladies ;  these  mosaics  are  certainly  of  tho  6th  century,  and  may 
be  contemporary  with  Justinian,  though  the  fact  that  ho  onJ 
Theodora  are  each  represented  with  a  circular  nimbus  appears  to 
indicate  that  they  were  not  then  alive.  Scenes  fiom  both  Old  :>nd 
Ne'.''  Testaments  or  the  lives  of  tho  saints  arc  also  represented  in 
almost  endless  variety, — generally  on  the  walls  of  the  body  of  tho 
church,  in  square-shaped  pictures,  arranged  iu  cue  or  luoro  tici*s 
over  the  nave  cohmins  or  arcade. 

In  mosaics  of  the  best  periods  the  treatment  of  the  forms 
and  draperies  is  broad  and  simjile,  a  just  amount  of  relief 
being  expressed  by  delicate  gradations  of  tints.  In  mosaics 
of  the  Sth  century  the  drawing  is  very  awkward,  and  the 
folds  of  the  robes  are  rudely  exjiressed  iu  outline,  with  no 
suggestion  of  light  and  shade. 

A  further  application  of  this  work  was  to  the  decoration' 
of  broad  bands  over-  the  columns  of  the  nave,  as  at  S. 
Mario '  Maggiore  in  Rome,  5th  century,  and  in  the  two 
churches  of  S.  ApoUinare  At  Ravenna,  Gth  century.  In 
some  cases  almost  the  whole  interior  of  tlie  church  wa.s 
encrusted  in  this  maguificeut  way,  as  at  Monrcale  Cathedral, 
the  Capella  Palatina  of  Palermo,  and  S.  Mark's  at  Venice, 
the  magnificence  of  which  no  words  can  describe ;  it  is 
quite  unrivalled  by  that  of  any  other  buildings  in  the 
world.     See  Monee,vle. 

In  these  churches  the  mosaics  cover  soffits  and  angles 
entirely,  and  give  the  effect  of  a  mass  of  solid  gold  and 
colour  producing   the   utmost   conceivable  .^endour  o£ 


MOSAIC 


dLcoration?  In  many  cases  vaulteJ  ceilings  were  coverei} 
with  these  mosaics,  as  the  tomb  of  Galla  Placidia,  450 
A.D.,  and  the  two  baiJtisteries  at  Ravenna,  5th  and  6th 
centuries.  For  exteriors,  the  large  use  of  mosaic  was 
usually  confined  to  tlie  west  facade,  as  at  S.  Miniato, 
Florence,  S.  Maria  Maggicre,  Home,  and  S.  Mark's, 
Venice.  In  almost  ?,'"  cases  the  figures  are  represented  on 
a  gold  ground,  and  gold  is  freely  used  in  the  dresses  and 
ornaments — rich  jewels  and  embroidery  being  represented 
in  gold,  silver,  sparkling  reds,  blues,  and  other  colours,  so 
as  to  give  the  utmost  splendour  of  effect  to  the  figures  and 
their  drapery. 
The  revival  of  the  art  of  painting  in  Italy  and  the 


853 


antroduction  of  fresco  work  in  the  Uth  century  gave  the 
deatliblow  to  the  true  art  of  waU-mosaic3.  Though  at 
first  the  Bimple  and  archaic  style  of  Cimabue  and  his 

chnrJ^^^'^rfTi'^T  **"'  Wld-wide  fame  Of  3.  Mark's  and  the  other  great 
chnrches  of  Italy  has  subjected  these  extraordinary  work,  to  the  fatal 
ClZli^  ^toration. "  and  wherever  any  sign  of  decay  iu  the  cement 
W  «il  /r-''  ^'^^^^'^  rt«  "^'-^  auite  indestructible)  has  given  the 
Zlb  ^"^/"PP''«J»t»  place  with  worthless  modern  copies.  The 
TvT:  ^nH  ?'  ^*  ^r^\  Wtislery.  and  of  the  apses  at  S.  Miniato. 

^'L\^'::iii:'^^^^  ^^^^  ^  ^^^^^  -^  ^-  --^-^y  -"--^ 


pupilfl  Jacopo  da  Turrita,  Giotto,  and  Taddeo  GodA 
was  equally  appHcable  to  painting  or  mosaic,  yet  soon  the 
development  of  art  into  greater  realism  and  complexitj 
required  a  method  of  expression  unfettered  by  the  necessi 
ties  and  canons  of  mosaic-work.  Pietro  Cavallini,  a  Romar 
artist,  was  one  of  the  last  who  worked  according  to  the 
old  traditions  His  mosaic  of  the  birth  of  the  Virgin  in 
;  .u  "*i  l\  *^°'°^^^°»  ^ome,  executed  about  the  middle 
of  the  14th  century,  i3  not  ^-ithout  merit,  though  hia 
superior  knowledge  of  form  has  only  caused  his  composi. 

wnrv!  .f  ^^'°'''^^^  ^^'^*'  ^^^  '""''^''^  compared  with  the 
works  of  the  earher  artists.  Even  in  the  15th  century  a 
few  good  mosaics  were  produced  at  Venice  and  elsewhere 
binco  then  many  large  pictures  have  been  copied  in  class 
mosaic,  generally  attempts  to  imitate  oil  paintings,  executed 
with  great  skill  and  wonderful  patience,  but  aU  utterly 
worthless  as  works  of  art,  merely  costly  monuments  of 
human  folly  and  misapplied  labour.  The  mosaics  from 
Titian's  pictures  on  the  west  end  of  S.  Mark's  at  Venice, 
Raphael's  m  the  Chigi  Chapel  in  S.  Maria  del  Popolo,  and 
many  large  pictures  in  S.  Peter's  in  Rome,  are  the  moat 
striking  examples  of  these. 

The  following  list,  in  chronological  order,  comprises  a  Bclectio* 
from  among  the  most  important  medieval  glass  wall-mosaics  duriajr 
tne  penod  when  mosaic-working  was  a  real  art :— 

5(/(  Century. 
Savenrui.  Orthodox  Baptistery— vault. 

Tomb  of  Galla  Placi-lia— vault,  450. 

Archbiahop's  Chapel— vault. 
Boms,  8.  Paolo  fuori  le  mura— triurapbal  arcb. 

5.  Maria  Mas^iore— square  pictures  over  oaTS  colomuL  aai 
triumphal  arch.  — — » 

ifilaiu  S.  Anibj-ogio,  Chapel  of  S.  Satiro— vault. 

Fundi.  Catliedr;:!    apse. 

Nola.  Cathedral— apse. 

6th  Century. 
Jiavenna.  Arian  Baptistery— vault. 

6.  Apolhnare  Nuovo — apso  and  nave,  with  9tk  cftttary 
Additions. 

S.  Vitale— apse  and  whole  aanctuary,  c(rca  547. 

8.  ApoUinare  in  Olasae— apse  and  nave,  649. 
JtoTnt.  83.  Cosmas  and  Damian— *p3e. 

Milan.  S.  Lorenzo,  Chapel  of  3.  Aquilinus— vault 

Constantinople.  S.  Sophia— walls  and  vault,  circa  550. 
TIi€ssaloni«i.      Church  of  &t  George— ap^e,  dec. ;  and  S.  SophU— dMM  tt4 

TrOdsond.         D.  Sophia— apse. 

7th  Centxtrj/. 
Home.  8.  Af^iese  ftaori  le  mora— apse,  626. 


Jtrtualim. 


8.  Teodoro. 

"Dome  of  the  Rock" — arches  of  ambulatory,  flW. 

8(ft  Centitrif. 
Baptistpry  of  S.  Giovanni  in  Latenmo. 
m.  Nereus  and  Achillee. 
Mosque  of  AJ-Alcsa— on  dome. 
Chapel  of  the  Transfiguration. 

9th  Century. 
8.  Cecilia  In  Trastevere— apse 


8-  MarcO' 

8.  Maria  della  Navicella— apsi 

S.  Prassede— triumphal  arcn. 


Conlova. 


I,  and  "Chapel  of  Uc 

ae— mumDnaj  arcn. 
8.  Puden, 
8.  Ambrogio—  apse,  832. 

lOth  CitUvry. 
ilUirab  (sanctuary)  of  Mosque. 

nth  Century. 
"  Dome  of  the  Rock  "—base  of  cupola,  1027. 


JerusaUm  ^ ^_ 

CoMtantinopte.  Cboich  af  8.  8a vioui^— walla  and  d'omeiT 
_  Uth  Century. 

8.  Mark  i— uarthex,  apse,  and  walU  of  nt\'e  and  alaloa. 


Mun 


Monreah. 
Bethlehem. 
Cefalu. 
Bomt. 


CathedrO— ajis 

Cathedr  VI — apse. 

Cathedral— apse. 

Cathedj  »1— apse. 

Capella  Palatina,  begun  1132— the  whole  iraila. 

Church   )f  La  Martorana — vault. 

Cathcdf  \1— the  whole  walla.  1170-00. 

Church  jftheXativity,  1169. 

CathedJ-U- apse,  11  J&. 

S.  Cleif^nte— apse. 

8.  FrsDccsca  Romnna — apse. 

S.  Uarj  i  in  Trastev ere— Apse. 

Ulh  Century. 
Baptif -tery  vault,  begun  c.  1255  by  Pro  Jacopo. 
8.  Mt  liato — apse  and  west  front. 
S.  Po(  'lo  fuori  le  mum— apse, 
S.  Cle  'ncnt*— triumphal  arch,  1297. 

8.  Giavanni  In  taUrano — apse  by  Jacopo  da  Turrit^  L2M. 
MagKiore— apue  and  we«t  end  by  Jacopo  A  Ikirrfi^ 


854: 


MOSAIC 


UthCen^trf/. 
^rmr>s»»  Baptistery,  finished  by  Andrea  Tafl. 

i  .«r.  CLthetlral— east  apse  by  Cimabuo,  1302,  north  and  south  apses 

by  hi3  pupils. 
y.jms,  B.  Iretcr's— na\1colla.  In  atriam  by  Giotto. 

B.  Mori.^  iu  Cosmediu — oa  w&Us  by  Pietro  Cavalllni,  e,  1340. 
Venice.  SS,  Giovanai  c  Paolo— In  nrcli  over  efBgy  of  Doge  Morosini. 

TLifl  Ust  13  by  no  means  ezdiaustivc,  end  only  gives  some  of  the 
"best  and  inost  typical  examples  of  the  mosaic-work  of  each  century. 

The  Byzantine  origin  of  these  great  wall-mosaics,  wherever 
they  are  found,  is  amply  proved  both  by  internal  and  documentary 
cridence.  The  gorgeous  mosaics  of  S.  Sophia  and  S.  Saviour's  in 
Constantinople,  6th  century,  aud  the  later  ones  in  the  monasteries 
of  Jloant  Athos,  at  Salonica  and  at  Daphne  near  Atiitns,  are  identical 
in  st)'lo  with  those  of  Italy  of  the  same  date.  Moreover,  the  even 
more  beautiful  mosaic-work  in  the  "Dome  of  the  Hock"  at  Jerusa- 
lem, 7th  and  11th  centuries,  and  that  in  the  sanctuary  of  the  great 
mosque  of  Cordova,  of  the  10th  century,  are  knoi^-n  to  be  the  work 
of  Byzantine  artist,^;,  in  snite  of  their  thoroughly  Oriental  design. 
The  same  is  the  case  with  the  rarer  mosaics  of  Germany,  such  as 
those  in  S.  Gereon  at  Cologne  and  at  Parenzo. 

A  very  remarkable,  almost  unique,  specimen  of  Byzantine  mosaic 
is  now  preserved  in  the  "Opera  del  Duomo,"  Floience.  This  is  a 
diptych  of  the  11th  century,  of  extremely  minute,  almost  micro- 
scopic, work,  in  tessera;  of  glass  and  metal,  perhaps  the  only  example 
of  tesserse  made  of  solid  metal.  It  has  figures  of  saints  and  inscrip- 
tions, each  tessera  being  scarcely  larger  than  a  pin's  head.  This 
beautiful  diptych  originally  belonged  to  the  imperial  chapel  in  Con- 
stantinople, and  was  brought  to  Florence  in  the  14th  century. 

2.  The  second  mediaeval  class,  mosaic  pa\  cmcnta,  though  of  great 
beauty,  are  of  less  artistic  importance. 

This  so-called  "  opus  Alexandrinum  "  is  very  common  throughout 
Italy  and  in  the  East,  and  came  to  greatest  perfection  in  tlie  13th 
century.  It  is  made  partly  of  small  marble  tesscrie  forming  the 
main  lines  of  the  pattern,  and  partly  of  large  pieces  used  as  a  ground 
or  matrix.  It  is  generally  designed  in  large  flowing  bands  which 
interlace  and  enclose  circles,  often  of  one  stone  sliced  from  a  column. 
The  finest  exampleis  that  at  S.  Mark's,  Venice,  of  the  12th  century. 
The  materials  are  utaiidy  white  marble,  with  green  and  red  poi"ph}Ty, 
and  sometimes  glass. 

Besides  the  coxmtless  chnrches  in  Italy  possessing  these  beautiful 
pavements,  such  as  S.  Lorenzo,  S.  Slarco,  S.  Maria  Maggiore,  and 
S.  Marki  in  Trastevere,  in  Rome,  we  have,  in  the  Chapel  of  the 
Confessor,  and  in  front  of  the  higli  altar  at  "Westminster,  very  fine 
specimens  of  this  work,  executed  about  1263  by  a  Roman  artist 
called  Odericus,  who  was  brought  to  England  by  Abbot  Ware,  on 
the  occasion  of  a  visit  made  by  the  latter  to  Rome.  Another 
English  example  is  tlie  mosaic  jtavemont  in  front  of  the  shrine  of 
Becket  at  Canterbury;  tliis  is  j.robably  the  work  of  an  English- 
man, though  the  materials  arc  foreign,  as  it  is  partly  inlaid  with 
bronze,  a  peculiarity  never  found  in  Italy.  There  are  also  many 
fine  examples  of  these  pavements  iu  the  chiirchcs  of  the  East,  such 
as  that  in  S.  Sophia  at  Trcbizond,  of  tlie  most  elaborate  desic;n  and 
splendid  materials,  very  like  the  S.  JIark's  pavement  at  Venice. 
Palermo  and  Monreale  are  especially  rich  in  examples  of  sectilo 
mosaic,  used  both  for  pavements  and  walla, — in  tlie  latter  case 
generally  for  the  lower  part  of  the  walls,  the  upper  part  being 
covered  with  the  glass  mosaics.  The  designs  of  these  Sicilian 
works,  mostly  executed  under  the  Norman  kings  in  the  12th  cen- 
tury, are  very  Oriental  in  character,  and  in  many  cases  wercactually 
fxecuted  by  Moslem  workmen.     Fig.  4  gives  a  specimen  of  this 


Tia.  4.— :.IarUe  Hlosaic  at  Monreale  Cathedral. 


piosaac  from  Monreale  cathedral.  Its  chief  characteristic  is  tho 
absence  of  curved  lines,  so  largely  used  in  tho  splendid  opus  Alex- 
andrinum of  Italy,  arising  from  the  fact  that  this  class  of  Oriental 
deeign  was  mainly  used  for  tho  delicate  panelling  in  wood  on  .their 


pulpi*3,  doors,  &c., — wood  being  a  material  qoite  nnsoited  for  iho 
production  cf  large  curves. 

3.  Glass  mosaic,  used  to  ornament  amboncs,  pulpito,  t  ^mba, 
bishops'  thrones,  baldacchini  columns,  architraves,  and  other  n.;>iblfl 
objects,  is  chiefly  Italian.  Tho  designs,  when  it  is  used  to  enrich 
flat  surfaces,  such  es  panels  or  architraves,  are  very  similar  to  x"!  cac 
of  the  pavements  last  described.  The  white  marble  is  used  as  a 
matrix,  in  which  sinkings  are  made  to  hold  the  glass  tesserce  ;  twisted 
columns  arc  frequently  ornamented  with  a  spiral  band  of  thia  r^Iass 
mosaic,  or  flutiogs  are  suggested  by  parallel  hanth  on  sti.\'ight 
columns.  The  cloisters  of  S.  Giovanni  in  Latcrano  and  S.  i':iolo 
fuori  le  mura  have  splendid  examples  of  these  enriched  EhaXts  and 
architraves. 

This  style  of  work  was  largely  employed  from  the  6th  to  the  l-icK 
centuries.  One  family  in  Italy,  the  Cosmati,  during  the  whole  ol 
the  13th  century,  was  especially  skilled  in  this  craft,  and  the  vaiioua 
members  of  it  produced  an  extraordinary  amount  of  rich  and  beauti- 
ful work.  The  pulpit  in  S  Mai-xa  in  Ara  Cor-h  Rome  is  o*ie  of  the 
finest  specimens  (see  fig  5)  as  are  aLo  tl  e  ambones  m  S  C'*** 
mente  and  S.  Lorenzo,and 
that  in  Salerno  cathedral 
The  tomb  of  Henry  III 
1291,  and  the  shrine  ot 
tho  Confessor,  1269,  at 
V/estminster  are  the  only 
examples  of  this  work 
in  England.  They  wer 
executed  by  *'  Pelntscivis 
llomanns"  probably  a 
pupil  of  tho  Cosmati. 

In  India,  especially 
during  the  17th  conturj 
many  Mohammedan 
buildings  were  decorated 
with  fine  marble  inlay  of 
the  class  now  called ' '  Flor 
cntinc."  This  is  scclil 
mosaic,  formed  by  shaped 
pieces  of  various-coloured 
marbles  let  into  a  marblo 
matrix.  A  great  deal  of 
the  Indian  mosaic  of  th  ^ 
.•^ortwas  executed  byltal 
ian  workmen  ;  the  finest 
examples  are  at  Agra,such 
as  the  Taj  Mchal. 

The  modern  so-caU^e  I 
*' Roman  mosaic"  is 
formed  of  short  and  slen 
der  sticks  of  coloured  glass 
fixed  in  cement,  the  ends 
which  fonn  the  pattern 
being  finally  rubbed  down 
and  polished. 

Many  not  unsuccessful 
attempts  have  been  mado 
lately  to  reproduce  the 
Roman  tcssclated  work  foi 
pavements ;  and  at  Mu 
rano,  near  Venice,  glass 
^\  all -mosaics  are  still  pro 
duced  in  imitation  of  tho 
niagnificL-nt  works  of  me 
di;LVal  times. 

4.  Mosaics  in  wood  are       ^'o  ^ -rare  of  m  a 
1         t             T   •      Tif   1                     mosa      CI  L.rc    oiAi    Cu.      i 
largely  used  m  Moham 

mcdan  buildings,  espcciallyfrom  the  14th  to  thel/th  centmies.  The 
finest  specimens  of  this  work  are  at  Cairo  and  Damascus,  and  are  used 
chiefly  to  decorate  the  magnificent  pulpits  and  other  woodwork  in  the 
mosques.  The  patterns  are  very  delicate  and  complicated,  worked 
in  inlay  of  small  pieces  of  various-coloured  woods,  often  further  en- 
riched by  bits  of  mothcr-of-pcarl  and  minutely  carved  ivory.  Tlio 
general  effect  is  extremely  splendid  from  the  combined  beauties  of 
the  materials  and  workman:)hip,  as  well  as  from  the  marvellous 
grace  and  fancy  of  the  designs.  Tliis  art  was  also  practised  largely 
by  tho  Copts  of  Egypt,  and  much  used  by  them  to  ornament  tho 
magnificent  iconostascs  and  other  licrcens  in  their  churches. 

Another  a}>plication  of  wood  to  mosaic-work,  called  "intarsia- 
tnro,"  was  very  common  in  Italy,  c.snccially  iu  Tuscany  and  Lom- 
bardy,  during  tho  15th  and  early  16th  centuries.  Its  chief  use  was 
for  tlie  decoration  of  the  stalls  and  lecterns  in  the  church-choira. 
Very  small  bits  of  various-coloured  woods  were  used  to  prodnca 
geometrical  patterns,  while  figui-c-subjects.  views  of  buildings  with 
strong  yicrspectivc  elTccts.  nnd  oven  landscapes,  were  very  skilfully 
produced  by  nn  inlay  of  Inrger  pieces.  Anibrogio  Borgognone, 
Raphael,  and  other  great  painters  often  drew  the  designs  for  this 
soit  of  work.     The  mos.iic  figures  Lu  tha  panels  of  the  stalls  at  the 


H  O  S-.M  0  S 


855 


Gertosa  near  Pavia  were  by  Boigopioiie,  .".nd  are  extremely  bsauti- 
foJ.  Thd  stalls  in  Siena  cathedral  and  in  S.  Pietro  d6'  Casinensi 
at  Perugia,  the  latter  from  Rapiiael's  designs,  are  among  the  firest 
works  of  this  cort,  which  are  vciy  numerous  in  Italy.  It  has  also 
been  used  on  a  smdlcr  scale  to  ornament  furniture,  and  especially 
the  **  Ca.9soni,"  OT  largo  trousseau  coffers,  on  which  the  most  costly 
and  elaborate  decorations  were  often  lavished.  Some  traditional 
skill  in  this  art  still  lingers  in  Italy,  especially  in  the  city  of  Siena. 

AuTUoniriEa.—ClasstcaZ  ^twato.— Pliny,  ff.  N.,  xxxvi. ;  Vitniviua ;  Franks, 
Slade  Collection  of  Ancient  Glass,  and  Exavatlana  at  Carthage,  1860;  Artaud, 
Uislolre  de  la  pelnture  en  mosaXque,.  1835  ;  ifonumcntoi  Arqttitfctonlcoe  de  Espana 
("Italica,"  "Cordoba,"'  and  "Elcho"),  1859-83 ;  Liilionle,  Mosa:ique  d'ltalica, 
pres  de  Seville,  1802 ;  Ciamptni,  Veiera  Monvvienta,  Koine,  1747 ;  A'on  Minutoli, 
ifosaikfussbodoi,  &c.,  1835 ;  Lysona,  Mosaics  o/  UorkUow,  1801,  and  Jlomau 
Antiquities  of  Woodchester,  1797  ;  Mazda,  Lea  mines  de  Pompii,  Paris,  1812-38  ; 
RtaX  Museo  Borbonico,  various  dates;  Ruach  Sioith,  Bcuian  LondOTi^  1859; 
Ausgrabung'eit  zii  Olympia,  1877-82. 

Christian.— Tiieo-philua,  Diversarum  Artium  ScheduUu  U.  15;  S.  Kenslnfjtoii 
Miuieum  Art  Inventory,  part  1.,  1870 ;  Itcniin,  Mission  de  PlUnicie,  1875  ;  Gamicci, 
Arte  Crisliana,  1872-82.  vol.  iv. ;  De  Uossf,  Musalci  Cristiani  di  Jioma,  1872-82 ; 
Parker,  jircAafo^offff  of  Rome,  and  Moxatc  Pictures  in  Rome  and  Savcnna,  1866 ; 
Jouy,  L&3  MosaXques  ehrHiennes  tie  Home,  1857 ;  Qrevina,  Duomo  di  Monreale, 
Palermo,  1859  $q. ',  Serradifalco,  Monreala  cd  altrc  ehiese  Siculo-Normanne,  18C8  ; 
Salazaro,  Moit.  delV  ArUMerid.  d'lUtlia^  1882  ;  M.  D.  Wyatt,  Geometrieul  Mosaics, 
of  tJte  Middle  Ages,  1849;  Sa.lzQn'borg,  A U-Christliche  LaiuUnkntale  von  Constanti- 
nopel,  1854;  Pulgher,  Eglises  Byzantincg  de  Constantinople,  1888;  Texicr  and 
Pullan,  Byzantine  Architecture^  1864 ;  Qiiast,  Alt-ChrUsUicken  Bauwerki  von 
Saveniia,  1842 ;  De  VogQft,  Eglises  de  la  Terre  Salute,  1860;  Milancsf,  Del  Arte 
del  VttTxt  pel  Mtaaico,  16th  century  (reprinted  at  Bologna  in  1864) ;  Rohault  de 
FUwryJ_Monuv^ents  de  Pise,  18CG;  Krcutz,  Basilica  di  S.  Marco,  P'euczin,  1813; 
Gaily  Knight,  Ecclesiastical  ArchltvetuTe  of  Italy,  1842-1 ;  Foasati,  Aya  Sophia, 
1852 ;  Didron,  "  La  peinture  en  Mosai'que,"  Cfaz.  des  B.  Arts,  voL  :u.,  p.  412 ; 
Gerspach,  Iai  Mosa'igue,  1883. 

Jtfosltfm.— Hessemer,  Arabische  uvd  Alt-ItalieniscJie  Bau-Verstervnoen,  1853; 


18*8 ;  Coatc,  Monuments  modernes  dt  la  Perx,  1867 ;  Flandin  and  Co^tc,  Voyage 
tn  Perse,  1843-64. 

JFood-  Mosaic— Tarsia.— Or natl  del  Coro  di  3.  Ptetro  Casstnenso  di  Perugioy 


MOSCHELES,  Ionaz  (1794-1870),  one  of  tie  most 
refined  and  accomplished  pianists  of  the  present  century, 
was  born  at  Prague,  30th  May  1794,  and  first  studied 
music  at  the  Conservatorium  in  that  city  under  the  direc- 
tion of  Dionys  Weber.  At  the  age  of  fourteen  he  made 
his  first  appearance  before  the  public  in  a  pianoforte  con- 
certo of  his  own  composition  with  marked  success.  Soon 
after  this  he  removed  to  Vienna,  where  he  studied  coun- 
terpoint tinder  Albrechtsberger  and  composition  under 
Salieri.  In  1814  he  prepared,  with  Beethoven's  consent, 
the  pianoforte  arrangement  of  Fidelia,  afterwards  published 
by  Messrs  Artaria.  In  tho  following  year  he  published 
his  celebrated  Variatioiun  iihei-  den  Alexandermarsch,  a  con- 
cert piece  of  great  difficulty,  which  he  j^layed  with  so  great 
eflect  that  he  was  at  once  recognized  as  tho  most  brilliant 
performer  of  the  day.  Ho  then  started  on  a  tour,  during 
the  course  of  which  ho  visited  most  of  tho  great  capitals 
of  Europe,  making  his  first  appearance  in  London  in  1822, 
and  there  securing  the  friendsliip  of  Muzio  Clementi  and 
John  Cramer,  the  fathers  of  the  English  school  of  piano- 
forte playing.  For  a  concert  given  by  the  latter  he 
wrote  his  famous  Hommage  d,  Handel,  a  duet  for  two 
pianofortes,  which  afterwards  became  a  lasting  favourite 
with  the  pub'ic.  His  reception  in  England  was  sufficiently 
encouraging  to  justify  his  retm-n  in  1823,  when  ho  again 
met  with  a  liunrty  welcome.  During  a  visit  to  Berlin  in 
18- i  he  first  became  acquainted  with  Mendelssohn,  then 
a  boy  of  fifteen  ;  and  a  friendship  .sprang  up  between  them 
which  was  severed  only  by  Mendelssohn's  early  death. 

In  1826  Moscheles  relinquished  his  wandering  habits, 
aiid  settled  permanently  in  London,  surrounding  himself 
%vith  a  clientele  fully  capable  of  appreciating  his  talents  as 
an  artist  and  his  social  worth  as  a  firm  and  loyal  friend. 
His  position  was  henceforth  a  more  than  ordinarily  en- 
viable one.  He  was  recognized  from  end  to  end  of  Europe 
as  a  virtuoso  of  the  highest  rank ;  and  his  popularity  both 
as  a  performer  and  as  a  teacher  was  based  on  grounds  which 
effectually  secured  it  from  the  caprice  of  changing  fashion  or 
ephemeral  patronage.  He  was  undoubtedly  for  some  con- 
siderable time  the  greatest  executant  of  his  age;  but,  using 
his  brilliant  touch  a,s  a  means  and  not  as  an  end,  he  con- 
eistenlly  devoted  himisolf  to  the  further  development  of  the 


trufc  4assical  school,  interpreting  the  works  of  the  great 
masters  with  conscientious  fidelity,  and  in  hia  extempore 
performances,  which  were  of  quite  exceptional  excellence, 
exhibiting  a  fertility  of  invention  which  never  failed  to 
please  tho  most  fastidious  taste. 

In  1837  Moscheles  conducted  Beethoven's  Ninth  Sym- 
phony at  the  Philharmonic  Society's  concerts  with  extra- 
ordinary success ;  and  on  thla  and  other  occasions  contri- 
buted not  a  little,  by  his  skilful  use  of  tho  baton,  to  the 
prosperity  of  tho  time-honoured  association.  During  the 
course  of  his  long  residence  in  Loudon  he  laboured  inces- 
santly in  the  cause  of  art,  pla)ring  at  innumerable  concerts, 
both  public  and  private,  and  instructing  a  long  line  of 
pupils,  who  flocked  to  him,  in  unbroken  succession,  until 
the  year  1848,  when,  at  Mendelssohn's  earnest  solicitation, 
he  removed  to  Leipsic,  to  carry  on  a  similar  work  at  tha 
Consei-vatorium  then  recently  founded  in  that  city.  In 
this  new  sphere  he  worked  with  unabated  zeal  for  mora 
than  twenty  years,  dying  10th  March  1870. 

Moschelea's  most  important  compositions  aro  liis  Pianolbrte  Con- 
certos, Sonatas,  and  fatuilies;  his  Homviagc  <k  UHnddx  and  bCi 
three  celebrated  Alter/ri  di  Bravura. 

MOSCHUS,  of  Syracuse,  is  one  of  the  Greek  bucblio 
poets ;  he  was  a  friend  of  the  Alexandrian  grammarian 
Axistarchus  (about  200  B.C.).  His  chief  work  is  the  epi- 
taph of  Bion  of  Smyrna,  another  of  the  bucolic  poets, 
who  seems  to  have  lived  in  Sicily.  It  is  probable  that  tho 
miscellaneous  collection  of  poems  which  we  possess  by  the 
three  poets  Theocritus,  Bion,  and  Moschus  was  known  to 
Artemidorus  in  200  B.r.  Hia  poetry  is  the  work  of  a  well- 
educated  man  with  a  tinned  artistic  eye ;  he  models  hia 
works  on  those  of  Bion,  writing  epigrammatic,  epic,  and 
idyUic  or  elegiac  verses,  all  except  a  few  lines  being  in 
hexameter  verse ;  but  he  treats  all  his  subjects  in  a  de- 
scriptive, not  in  a  narrative  or  an  epig/ammatio  stylo. 
Besides  the  epitaph  of  Bion,  he  wTote  two  little  epic  poems, 
"Europa"  and  "Megara,"  and  a  pretty  little  epigram, 
"  Love  the  Rtmaway ; "  and  a  few  short  pieces  of  his  are 
also  preserved.  They  are  written  with  much  elegance,  but 
the  style  is  perhaps  too  refined  and  carefully  wrought,  and 
he  has  few  of  the  higher  qualities  of  a  poet. 

MOSCOW,  a  government  of  Central  Russia,  bounaed 
by  Tver  on  the  N.W.,  Vladimir  and  Ryazan  on  the  E., 
Tula  and  Kaluga  on  the  S.,  and  Smolensk  on  the  W.,  and 
having  an  arer.  of  12,858  square  miles.  The  sm-face  is 
undulating,  with  broad  depressions  occupied  by  the  rivers, 
and  varies  in  elevation  from  500  to  850  feet.  Moscow  is 
situated  in  the  centre  of  the  so-called  Moscow  coal-basin, 
which  extends  into  the  neighbouring  governments,  and 
consists  of  limestones  6f  therUpper  and  Lower  Carboni- 
ferous, 'the  latter  containing  beds  of  inferior  coal,  while 
the  former  contains  several  good  quarries  of  marble.  The 
Carboniferous  foi-mation  is  covered  with  Jurassic  clays, 
sandstones,  and  sands,  which  yield  a  good  china-clay  at 
Gjeli,  copperas,  a  sandstone  much  employed  for  building, 
and  a  white  sand  used  for  the  manufacture  of  glass.  The 
whole  is  thickly  covered  with  boulder-clayand  alluvial  sands. 

The  government  is  watered  by  tho  Volga,  which  skirts  it  for  a 
few  miles  on  its  northern  boundary,  by  the  navigable  Scstra,  which 
brings  it  in  communication  witli  the  canals  leading  to  St  Peters- 
burg, by  tha  Oka,  and  by  the  Moskva.  This  lost  takes  its  origin 
in  Smolensk,  and,  after  a  course  of  230  miles  right  across  Moscow, 
reaches  the  Oka  at  Kolomna ;  it  is  navigable  from  the  town  of 
Moscow.  The  Oka  and  Moskva  from  a  remote  period  have  been 
important  channels  of  trade,  and  continue  to  bo  so  not^thst.mding 
the  development  of  railways.  Tho  Oka  brings  the  government 
into  water  commu.iication  with  the  Volga,  whoso  tributaries  cover 
nearly  the  whole  of  middle  and  eastern  Kussia,  and  arc  separated 
by  short  land  distances  from  the  Northern  Dwlna  and  the  Don. 
Large  quantities  of  grain,  metals,  glass  ware,  skins,  and  other  com- 
modities are  shipped  up  and  doivn  tho  Moskva,  whilst  the  Myach- 
kovo  stone  quarries  situated  on  its  banks  supply  the  capital  with 
building  stone.     There  are  several  marshes,  mostly,  in  the  north 


856 


M  O  S  CJ  O   VV 


where  also,  as  well  as  in  tlm  nortL-cast,  notwithstandiu^;  tlic 
inimtnsc  consiimiitinn  of  wooil  in  inanufactuies  and  for  use  in  tlio 
capital,  c-xtensive  forests  are  still  found.  Very  large  supplies  of 
timber  are  al&o  imported  li}-  rail  or  river,  especially  from  the  adjoin- 
ing norili-easlgrn  provinces.  The  soil  is  somewhat  unproductive, 
the  average  crops  ranging  from  SJ  to  43  returns;  agriculture 
is  eavrictl  on  everywhere,  but  only  two  districts  (Ruza  and  Yolsko- 
lamsk)  export  corn,  all  the  others  being  more  or  less  dependent 
on  extraneous  supplies.  The  agiicultural  holdings  of  the  peasants 
arc  very  small,  and  their  condition  on  the  whole  unsatislactory.* 
Crass  erojis  have  vome  importance  in  sevci-al  districts,  and  kitchen- 
gardening  is  an  important  source  of  wealth  in  Vereya,  Diuitroff, 
and  Zvenigorod.  Cattle  arc  not  extensively  reared,  but  the  horse- 
breeding  industry  is  somewhat  important 

The  population,  1,581,700  in  1864,  numbered  1,913,700  in  1873, 
one-third  being  urban.  They  arc  nearly  all  Great-Russians,  and 
belong  to  the  Creek  Church,  or  are  nonconformists,  ilany  are 
employed  in  factories,  the  number  of  which  in  1879  was  1546, 
occupying  162,700  hands,  and  having  an  annual  production  of 
about  £20,000,000  sterling.  These  figures  show  the  manufactur- 
iiig  activity  of  ^Moscow  to  be  greater  than  that  of  any  other  Russian 
government,  while  the  value  produced  is  upwards  of  one-fifth  of 
the  total  for  nil  Russia  in  Europe,  including  Poland.  Cotton, 
woollen,  and  silk  goods  arc  the  chief  products.  The  sanitary 
condition  of  the  factories  is  very  bad  ;  the  number  of  children 
bflow  fifteen  years  employed  is  as  high  as  16  per  cent.,  the  hours 
of  daily  work  are  often  13  to  16,  and  the  mortality  is  very  great. 
The  total  income  obtained  by  the  populationof  the  government  from 
their  manufacturing  industry  is  estimated  at  £485,600.  The  chief 
income  of  the  pcojjlc  is  derived,  however,  fi;om  a  variety  of  petty  in- 
dustries, carried  on  in  their  villages  by  the  peasants,  who  continue 
at  the  same  time  to  cultivate  the  soil.  Taxation  during  the  last 
twenty  years  has  been  increasing  rapidly,  and  in  some  parts  of  the 
government  has  reached  an  average  of  12  roubles  per  house.  The 
chief  centres  of  tjade  are  Moscow,  Kolomna,  Serpukhoff,  Bogorodsk, 
Scrghievsk,  and  Pavlovsk.  Thcie  are  125  fairs.  Transport  is  much 
facilitated  by  railways,  and  by  good  highroads  radiating  fi-om 
the  cajiital.  Moscow  is  divided  "into  thirteen  districts,  the  chief 
town's  with  their  respective  populations  being — Moscow  (670,000), 
Bogorodsk  (C600),  Bronnitsy  (3500),  Rnza  (4000),  Kolomna  (18,800), 
Serpukhoff  (16,800),  Podokk  (11,0001,  Zvenigorod  (7800),  Mojaisk 
(4200),Volokolamsk  (3000),  Klin  (6700),  Dmitroff(7600),and  Vereya 
(5500).  In  addition  to  these  administrative  centres  may  he  men- 
tioned Voskresensk  (6000),  Serghievski  Posad  (27,500),  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  the  monastery  of  Troitsa,  a  rich  commercial  and 
industrial  town,  and  Pavlovski  Posad  (4500).  Many  of  the  villages 
are  far  more  important  from  their  industries  and  trade  than  the 
district  towns. 

MOSCOW  (Russian,  juostva),  the  second  capital  of 
the  Eussian  empire  and  chief  towTi  of  the  government 
and  district  of  the  same  name,  is  situated  in  55°  45'  N. 
lat.  and  37°  37'  E.  long.,  on  both  banks  of  the  river 
Moskva,  a  tributary  of  the  Oka,  at  its  confluence  with 
the  rivulet  Yauza.  The  popular  idea  is  that  Moscow  is 
built  on  seven  hills,  and  in  fact  the  city  covers  several 
eminences,  tlie  altitudes  of  its  different  parts  varying  from 
500  to  850  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea.  It  is  400 
miles  from  St  Petersburg,  813  from  Archangel,  900  from 
Ufa,  938  from  Astraklian,  933  from  Odessa,  and  811  from 
Warsaw.  It  lies  to  the  north  of  the  most  densely-jjeopled 
parts  of  Russia  (the  "black-earth  region"),  whilst  the 
country  to  the  north  of  it  is  rather  thinly  peopled  as  far 
as  the  Volga,  and  very  sparsely  beyond  that.  The  space 
between  the  middle  Oka  and  the  Volga,  however,  was  the 
very  cradle  of  the  Great-Russian  nationality  (Novgorod 
and  Pskov  excluded) ;  and  four  or  five  centuries  ago  Mos- 
cow had  a  quite  central  position  with  regard  to  this. 

The  present  city  measures  7  miles  from  north  to  south, 
and  9  miles  from  west-south-west  to  cast-north-east,  and 
covers  an  area  of  32  square  miles  (about  40  when  the 
suburbs  are  included).  In  the  centre,  on  the  left  bank  of 
the  Moskva,  stiinds  the  "  Kreml "  or  Kremlin,  occupying 
the  Borovifsky  hill,  which  in  the  12th  century  was  covered 
by  a  dense  forest.  '  To  the  east  of  the  Kremlin  is  the 
Kitay-Gorod,  formerly  the  Great  Posad,  the  chief  centre 


'  According  to  recent  investigations  instituted  by  the  Moscow  pro- 
\incial  assembly,  10  per  cent,  of  the  agricultural  poptdation  (about 
20,000  households)  have  no  laud  at  oil  ;  15  per  cent.,  while  holding 
laud,  are  bankrupt ;  and  13  per  ceuu  are  without  cattle  or  implemcuts. 


for  trade.  The  Byelyi-Gorod,  which  was  formerly  enclosed 
by  a  stone  wall  (whence  the  name),  surrounds  the  Kremlin 
and  the  Kitay-Gorod  on  the  west,  north,  and  north-east. 
A  line  of  boulevards  now  occupies  the  place  of  its  wall 
(destroyed  in  the  ISth  century),  and  forms  a  first  circle 
of  streets  arnimd  the  centre  of  iloscow.  The  Zemlanoy- 
Gorod  (earthen  enclosure)  surrounds  the  Bj'elyi-Gorod, 
including  the  "  Zamoskvoryechie "  on  the  right  bank  of 
the  Moskva.  The  earthen  wall  and  palisade  that  formerly 
enclosed  it  no  longer  exist,  their  place  being  taken  by  a 
series  of  broad  streets  vdih  gardens  on  both  sides, — the 
Sadovaya,  or  Gardens  Street.  The  fourth  enclosure  (the 
"Kamer-College  earthen  wall")  was  made  during  the  reign 
of  Catherine  II. ;  it  is  of  irregular  shape,  and  encloses  the 
outer  parts  of  JIoscow,  whilst  the  suburbs  and  the  villages 
which  have  sprung  up  on  the  highways  extend  4,  5,  and  6 
miles  beyond.  The  general  view  obtained  from  the  west 
or  south  is  very  picturesque,  especially  on  account  of 
the  numerous  churches,  monasteries,  and  towers  with 
characteristic  architecture,  and  the  many  gardens  and 
ponds  scattered  among  clusters  of  houses.  "The  Kremlin 
is  an  old  fort  of  pentagonal  (nearly  triangular)  shai)e,  98 
acres  in  extent,  occupying  a  hill  about  100  feet  above  tha 
level  of  the  Moskva.  It  is  enclosed  by  a  high  stone  wall 
2430  yards  in  length,  restored  during  the  present  century, 
and  having  eighteen  towers.  Its  five  gates  are  surmounted 
by  high  towers.  The  Spasskiya  (Saviour's  Gate)  was 
erected  in  1491  by  a  Milanese  architect,  the  Gothic  tower 
that  surmounts  it  having  been  added  in  1626  by  the 
English  architect  HoUoway.  A  sacred  picture  of  the 
Saviour  was  placed  upon  it  in  1GS5,  and  all  who  pass 
through  the  gate  must  uncover.  The  towers  surmount- 
ing the  four  other  gates  were  erected  by  order  of  Ivan 
III.  Of  the  sacred  buildings  of  the  Kremlin  the  most 
venerated  is  the  Uspensky  cathedral.  The  former  church 
of  this  name  was  erected  in  1326  by  Ivan  Kalita,  but,  on 
its  falling  into  disrepair,  a  new  oiie  was  built  on  the  same 
place  in  1475-1479,  by  Fioraventi,  in  the  Lombardo- 
Byzantine  style,  with  Indian  cupolas.  It  was  restored 
in  the  18th  century  and  in  1813.  It  contains  the  oldest 
and  most  venerated  holy  pictures  in  Russia,  one  of  which 
is  attributed  to  the  metropolitan  Peter,  another  to  St 
Luke.  This  last  was  brought  from  Kieff  to  Vladimir 
in  1155,  and  thence  to  Moscow  in  1395;  its  jewelled 
metallic  cover  is  valued  at  £20,000.  The  cathedral  pos- 
sesses also  a  gate  brought  from  Korsun,  the  throne  erf 
Vladimir  I.,  and  numerous  relics  of  saints,  some  of 
which  date  from  the  14  th  century.  The  Russian  metro- 
politans and  patriarchs  were  consecrated  in  this  cathedral, 
as  well  as  the  czars  after  Ivan  IV.  The  Arkhangelsk 
cathedral  was  originally  built  in  1333,  and  a  new  one  was 
erected  in  its  place  in  1505.  It  has  suffered  very  much 
from  subsequent  restorations  and  decorations.  It  contains 
the  tombs  of  the  czars  from  Simeon  (1353)  to  Ivan 
Alexeevitch  (1696),  and  possesses  vast  wealth.  The  Bla- 
govyeschensk  cathedral,  recalling  the  churches  of  Athos, 
was  built  in  1489;  the  remarkable  pictures  of  Rubleff 
(1405),  contained  in  the  original  structure  of  1397-1416, 
have  been  preserved.  It  was  the  private  chapel  of  the 
czars.  Vestiges  of  a  very  old  church,  that  of  the  Saviour 
in  the  Wood  {Spas  n<t  bori7),  contemporaneous  with  the 
foundation  of  JIoscow,  still  exist  in  the  yard  of  the  palace. 
A  stone  church  took  the  place  of  the  old  wooden  structure 
in  1330,  and  was  rebuilt  in  1527,  Several  other  churches 
of  the  15th  century,  with  valuable  archxological  remains, 
are  found  within  the  walls  of  the  Kremlin.  The  Vozne- 
scnsky  convent,  erected  in  1393,  and  recently  restored 
with  great  judgment,  is  the  burial-place  of  wives  and 
sisters  of  the  czars.  The  Chudoff  monastery,  erected  in 
1365,  was  the  seat  of  theological  instruction  and  a  stata 


M  o  rs  c  o  w 


857 


prison.  Closa  by,  iLo  gre:if  campanile  of  Ivan  Veliky, 
erected  in  tho  Lombardo-lJyzantiDe  style  by  Boris  Godunoff 
in  1600,  rises  to  the  height  of  271  feet  (328  feet  including 
the  cross),  and  contains  many  bells,  one  of  vrhich  weighs 
1285  cwts.  The  view  of  Moscow  from  this  campanile  is 
really  wonderful,  and  its  gilded  cupola  is  seen  from  a  great 
distance.  Close  by  is  the  well-known  Tsar-Kolokol  (Czar  of 
the  Bells),  60  feet  in  circumference  round  the  rim,  19  feet 
high,  and  weighing  3850  cwts.  It  was  cast  in  1735,  and 
broken  during  the  fire  of  1737  before  being  himg.  The 
treasury  of  the  patriarchs  (riznitsa)  contains  not  only  such 
articles  of  value  as  the  sahhos  of  the  metropolitan  Foty  with 
70,000  pearls,  but  also  very  remarkable  monuments  of  Rua- 
<iian  archeology.     The  library  has  500  Greek  and  1000 


very  rare  Bossian  MSS.,  including  a  Go9peI  of  the  8tli 
century. 

The  great  palace  of  the  emperors,  erected  in  1849,  is  a 
fine  building  in  white  stone  with  t.  gilded  cupola.  It  con- 
tains the  Urems,  or  rooms  erected  for  the  young  princes  ia 
1636  (restored  in  1836-1849,  their  former  character  being 
maintained),  a  remarkable  memorial  of  the  domestic  life  of 
the  czars  in  the  17  th  century.  In  the  treasury  of  the  czars, 
Granovitaya  Palata  and  Orujeynaya  Palata,  now  public 
museums,  the  richest  stores  connected  with  old  Kussian 
archseology  are  foimd — crowns,  thrones,  •  dresses,  various 
articles  of  household  furniture  belonging  to  the  czars, 
Russian  and  Mongolian  arms,  carriages,  ifec. 

The  four  sides  of  the  Senate  Square  aie  occupied  by 


Plan  of  Moscow. 


buildings  of  various  dates,  from  the  15th  century  onwards. 
The  senate,  now  the  law  courts,  was  erected  by  Catherine 
JI.  Facing  it  is  the  arsenal,  containing  full  ammunition 
for  200,000  men. 

The  Temple  of  the  Saviour,  begun  in  1817  on  the 
Vorobiovy  hills,  in  commemoration  of  1812,  was  abandoned 
in  1827,  and  a  new  one  was  built  during  the  years  1838- 
^  1881  on  a  hill  on  the  bank  of  the  Moskva,  at  a  short  dis- 
tance from  the  Kremlin.  Its  style  is  Lombardo-Byzantine, 
with  modifications  suggested  by  the  military  taste  of 
Nicholas  I.  Its  colossal  white  walls  are  well  proportioned, 
and  its  gilded  cupolas  are  seen  from  a  great  distance. 
^e  buildings  that  surround  it  are  to  be  clestfed  away, 
fmi  its  wide  squares  adorned  by  obelisks,  and  by  monu- 


ments to  Kutuzoff,  Barclay  de-  Tolly,  Alexanc.er  L,  and 
Nicholas  L 

The  Kitay-Gorod,  which  covers  121  acres,  and  has 
20,000  inhabitants,  is  the  chief  commercial  quarter  of 
Moscow.  It  «ontains  the  Gostinoy  Dvor,  coisisting  of 
several  stone  buildings  divided  into  1200  shop),  where  all 
kinds  of  manufactured  articles  are  sold.  The  "Red  Square," 
900  yards  long,  whose  stone  tribunal  was  formerly  tho 
forum,  and  afterwards  the  place  of  execution,  separates  the 
Gostinoy  Dvor  from  the  Kremlin.  At  its  lower  end  stands 
the  fantastic  Pokrovsky  cathedral  (usually  kncwrfas  Vasili 
Blajennyi),  which  is  the  wonder  of  all  stranger*  visiting 
Moscow,  on  account  of  its  towers,  all  differing  from  each 
other,  and  representing,  in  their  variety  of  colours,  pina- 
XVT.  —  loS 


858 


MOSCOW 


apples,  melons,  and  the  like.  .  It  •was  built  under  Ivan  the 
Terrible  by  an  Italian.  The  exchange,  built  in  1838  and 
restored  in  1873,  is  very  lively,  and  its  tvrenty-three 
"exchange  artels"  (associations  of  nearly' 2000  brokers, 
possessing  a  capital  of  more  than  ^lOO^OOO)  are  -worthy  of 
remark.  Banks,  houses  of  great  commercial  firms,  streets 
full  of  old  bookshops  carrying  on  a  very  large  trade,  and 
finally  tho  Tolkuchy  rynok,  the  market  of  the  poorest 
dealers  in  old  clothes,  occupy  the  Kitay-Gorod,  side  by  side 
with  restaurants  of  the  highest  class.  In  the  KLitay-Gorod 
are  also  situated  the  house  of  tho  Romanoffs,  rebuilt  in 
1859  in  exact  conformity  with  its  former  shape;  a  Greek 
monaster)' ;  and  the  printing-office  of  the  synod,  containing 
about  600  MSS.  and  10,000  very  old  printed  books,  to- 
gether with  a  museum  of  old  typographical  implements. 
At  the  entrance  to  the  Kitay-Gorod  stands  the  highly- 
venerated  chapel  of  the  Virgin  of  Iberia,  which  is  a  copy, 
made  in  1648,  of  a  holy  picture  placed  on  the  chief  gate 
of  the  monastery  of  Athos.  Close  by  is  the  recently  opened 
historical  museum,  which  will  contain  collections  respect- 
ively illustrating  separate  periods  of  Russian  history. 

The  northern  parts  of  the  Byelyi-Gorod  are  also  the 
centre  of  a  lively  trade.  Here  are  situated  the  Okhotnyi 
Ryad  (poultry  market)  and  the  narrow  streets  Tvei-skaya 
and  Kuznetsky-Most,  the  rendezvous  of  the  world  of  fashion. 
Here  also  are  the  theatres.  In  the  south-west  of  the  Byelyi- 
Gorod,  opposite  the  garden  of  tho  Kremlin,  stand  the  uni- 
versity, the  public  museum,  and  the  military  riding  school. 

The  Zemlyanoy-Gorod,  which  has  arisen  from  villages 
that  surrounded  Moscow,  exhibits  a  variety  of  characters. 
In  the  neighbo\u-hood  of  the  railway  stations  it  is  a  busy 
centre  of  traffic ;  other  parts  of  it  are  manufacturing 
centres,  whilst  others — as,  for  instance,  tho  small  quiet 
streets  in  the  west  of  the  boulevard  of  Prechistenka,  called 
the  old  Konushennaya,  with  their  wooden  houses  find 
spacious  yards — are  the  true  abodes  of  the  families  of  the 
old,  for  the  most  part  decayed,  but  still  proud  nobility. 
The  Zamoskvoryechie,  on  the  right  bank  of  the  Moskva, 
is  the  abode  of  the  patriarchal  merchant  families.  Each 
house  is  surrounded  by  a  yard  whose  gat«  is  rarely  opened, 
and  each  house,  with  its  dependencies  and  gardens,  bears 
the  character  of  a  separate  estate. 

Tlie  climate  of  Jtoscow  is  cold  and  continental,  but  heaUli|-. 
The  average  annual  temperature  is  40°'l  Fahr.  (January,  14  ; 
July,  6C°-o).  The  summer  is  warm  (64°-2),  and  tho  winter  cold 
.ind  dry  (IS^'S),  cpeat  masses  of  snow  covering  the  streets.  The 
spring,  as  is  usu^illy  tho  case  in  cold  continental  climates,  is  beauti- 
ful. The  prevailing  winds  are  south-u-est  and  south.  The  river 
Moskva  is  frozen,  on  the  average,  for  153  days  (from  12th  Novem- 
ber to  13th  April>. 

Besides  tho  Jloskva  and  the  Yauza,  Moscow  is  watered  also  by 
the  NcUnnaya,  vrhich  now  flows  in  an  uudergi'ound  channel  under 
the  wafls  of  the  Kremlin.  The  city  has  about  200  ponds.  Tho 
Moskva  is  crossed  by  five  bridges  ;  a  branch  of  it,  or  rather  a 
channel,  makes  an  elongated  island  in  the  centre  of  the  town. 
Water  of  excellent  quality,  principally  from  the  Mytischi  springs 
and  ponds,  11  miles  distant,  is  led  to  fouuteins  in  different  parts 
of  the  town,  whence  it  is  taken  by  watermen.  But  this  supply 
amounts  only  to  1,865,000  gallons  a  day,  and  the  gi-eat  mass  of  tho 
inhabitants  make  use  of  the  contaminated  water  of  tho  Moskva 
and  even  of  the  Yauza,  or  of  private  wells. 

Tho  population  of  JIoscow,  which  is  steadily  increasing,  is  esti- 
mated at  070,000  ;  but  an  accurate  census  has  not  yet  been  made. 
In  the  middle  of  the  18th  century  it  was  estimated  at  only  150,000  ; 
in  1812,  at  250,000  in  summer  and  400,000  in  ivintor.  In  1864  it 
was  estimated  (probably  under  tho  truth)  at  305,000.  The  inhabit- 
ants are  mostly  Great-Kussians,  and  only  about  COCO  are  foreigners. 
They  chiefly  belong  to  the  Greek  Church,  or  are  nonconformists, 
the  number  of  Lutherans  and  Catholics  being  only  8000  to  9000. 
The  mortality  is  very  gicat :  in  187a.and  1330  it  reached  37-9  and 
41-8  per  thousand  (men  39-3  ;  wonfdn  43-9),  and  usually  exceeds 
the  birth-rate.  Moscow,  moreover,  is  often  visited  by  epidemics 
■which  immensely  increase  tho  mortality,  in  consequence  of  the 
almost  entire  absence  of  sanitary  regulations.  Fires  are  very  fre- 
quent; within  tea  years  (1870-1879)  thoy  numbered  2492,  the  loss 
being  estimated  at  £2,865.300. 


Since  the  1 4th  century  Moscow  has  been  an  important  comme^ 
cial  city.  Its  merchants  carried  on  a  brisk  trade  with  Novgorod 
and  Pskov,  with  Lithuania,  Poland,  Hungary,  Constantinople^ 
Azofl',  and  Astrakhan.  About  the  end  of  the  loth  century  its 
princes  transported  to  Moscow,  Vladimir,  and  other  Russfau  towns 
no  fewer  than  18,000  of  the  richest  Novgorod  merchant  families, 
and  took  over  the  entire  trade  of  that  city,  entering  into  direct 
relations  with  Narva  and  Livonia.  The  shops  of  the  Gostinoy 
Dvors  of  Moscow  astonished  foreign  visitors  in  the  16th  century 
by  their  large  supply  of  foreign  wares,  and  by  the  low  prices  at 
which  the  products  of  western  Europe  were  sold, — a  circumstance 
explained  by  the  barter  character  of  the  trado.  Tho  annexation 
of  Kazan  and  the  conquest  of  Siberia  gave  a  new  importance  to 
iloscow,  bringing  it  into  direct  commercial  relations  with  Khiva, 
Bokhara,  and  China,  and  supydying  it  mth  .Siberian  fur9._  The 
fur-trade  engrossed  the  minds  of  all  European  merchants  in  the 
16th  century,  and  an  English  company,  "The  Mystery,"  having 
received  the  monopoly  of  the  Archangel  trade,  caused  tho  traffic 
to  be  sent  by  the  ^V^^ito  Sea  instead  of  the  Baltic.  Moscow  thus 
became  tho  centre  for  nearly  the  whole  trade  of  Russia,  and  th» 
czar  himself  engaged  in  largo  commercial  operations.  All  boyors, 
and  tho  church  too,  were  traders  ;  and  the  poorest  Moscow  per 
chants  participated  in  the  trade  through  their  corporations. 
Persians,  Greets,  Armenians,  Swedes,  English,  Germans,  and 
Lithuanians  had  each  its  own  Gostinoy  Dvor  (or  caravanserai). 
Situated  at  the  junction  of  six  important  highways  (along  which 
communication  was  maintained  by  special  yamshiks),  Moscow  was 
the  gi-eat  storehouse  and  exchange-mart  for  the  merchandise  ot 
Europe  and  Asia.  The  opening  of  the  port  at  St  Petersburg  affected 
its  commercial  interest  unfavourably  at  first ;  but  the  Asiatic  and 
internal  trade  of  Moscow  has  since  then  enormously  increased.  At 
present  it  is  the  chief  centre  of  railway  traffic.  The  revenue  of  its 
custom-house  was  in  1880  double  that  of  St  Petersburg  (30,000,000 
roubles,  as  against  15,620,000  at  St  Petersburg  and  9,000,000  at 
Warsaw).  ?3ut  tho~home  tTaflic  is  the  most  important  branch  of  the 
Tiloscow  trade.  Tho  city  is  the  chief  centre  for  the  trade  in  grain,  in 
hemp,  and  in  oils,  sent  to  tho  Baltic  ports,;  in  tea,  brought  both  1^ 
.Siberia  and  by  St  Petersburg ;  in  sugar,  refined  there  in  large  quanti- 
ties ;  in  grocery  wares  for  the  £ui>ply  of  more  than  half  Russia  and 
all  Siberia ;  in  tallow,  skins,  wool,  metals,  timber,  wooden  wares, 
and  all  other  produce  of  the  manufactures  of  middle  Rusiia.  No 
less  than  10,000,000  cwts.  of  corn  are  annually  brought  to  Moscow, 
half  of  which  is  sent  to  the  Baltic  ports.  Tho  yearly  return  of  tho 
Moscow  trade  was  estimated  at  £9,000,000  in  1848,— probably  only 
a  half  or  a  third  of  the  real  value,  which  is  believed  to  have  been 
at  least  trebled  since  that  rime.  The  quantity  of  goods  carried  by 
the  six  railways  from  Moscow  to  St  Petersburg,  Yaroslav,  Nijm, 
Ryazan,  Kursk,  and  Brest,  amounted  in  1878  to  162,343,500  cwta. 
(out  of  635,740,000  for  tho  whole  of  Russia) ;  and  the  number  of 
pnsseugeis  was  8,637,890  (1,263,530  military)  out  of  a  total  for  all 
Kiissia°af  37,580,800  (civil  and  military)  in  that  year. 

From  the  15th  century  onwards  the  villages  around  Moscow  were 
renowned  for  the  variety  of  small  trades  they  carried  on  ;  the  first 
large  manufactures  in  cottons,  woollen  fabrics,  silk,  china,  and 
glass  in  Great  Russia  appeared  at  Moscow  in  the  17th  and  ISth 
centuries.  After  1830,  in  consequence  of  protection  tarifi's,  the 
manufactories  in  the  government  of  Moscow  rapidly  increased  in 
number  ;  and  at  present  two-thiids  of  them,  or  about  1000,  annu- 
ally producing  articles  to  tho  value  of  upwards  of  £10,000,000  (th» 
real  production  is  probably  much  higher),  ara  concentrated  in  th» 
capital.  There  are  at  Jioscow  about  170  cotton-mills,  CO  manu- 
factories of  woollens,  and  79  of  silks,  the  silk  manufafiured  being 
chiefly  Caucasian,  although  a  good  deal  is  also  imported  from  tho 
west ;  there  are  also  upwards  of  20  large  tanneries,  50  tobacco- 
factories,  15  lar^  candle-works,  70  larger  workshops  in  metals,  13 
wax-candla  works,  30  carriage  manuiaotories,  20  watch  manu- 
factories. 

The  income  and  oxpenlituro  of  Moscow  in  1682  were  respectively 
4,921,067  and  6,124,063  roubles,  as  compared  with  4,730,724  and 
5,490,433  in  1S81. 

Moscow  has  many  educational  institutions  and  scientific  societies. 
The  universitv,  founded  in  1755,  exercised  a  powerful  influence  on 
tho  intellectual  life  of  Russia  during  tho  years  1S30-184S;  and 
it  still  continues  to  be  the  most  frequented  ftussian  university.  lu 
1882  it  had  2430  students  .and  a  teaching  stalf  of  334  ;  the  studenta 
are  mostly  poor,  tho  sum  of  107,588  roubles  having  been  given 
in  ISSl  in  scholarships  to  854  of  their  number,  and  14,000  roubles 
in  the  form  of  occasional  assistance.  Tho  librnry  contains  nearly 
200,000  volumes,  and  has  rich  collections  in  mineralogy,  geology, 
and  zoology.  There  is  also  an  excellent  higher  technical  school ; 
and  an  ogiicultuial  college  is  situated  in  the  Petrovskoyo  suburb, 
filoscow  has  also  a  theological  academy,  a  commercial  academy,  a 
school  of  topography,  an  institute  (of  Lazareff)  for  the  study  of 
Oriental  languages,  a  musical  conservatory,  f)ur  institutes  for 
women,  a  free  university  for  vomer,  seven  colleges  for  boys  and 
three  for  girls,  three  corps  of  military  cadets,  very  numerous 
primary  and  leclwicAl  schools^  *^  jaauy  private  schools,     J* 


MOSCOW 


859 


ittill  tbeM  u«  /nsnfficient  for  the  popnlation,  and  the.  monicipal 
fcohoola  crery  year  refoso  adznlBsion  to  about  1600  boys  and  girls. 

Tho  ecientific  societies  are  specially  distinguished  for  their  services 
in  the  oxplomtion  of  the  country.  Tho  following  deserve  parti- 
cular mcntiun  : — the  society  of  naturalists  (founded  in  1805) ;  the 
eocietj'  of  Kuasian  history  and  antiquities,  which  has  published 
many  remarkable  worksj  the  society  of  amateurs  of  Russian  litera- 
tiuw ;  the  physical  and  medical  society  ;  the  mathematical  society  ; 
tho  society  for  the  dilTusion  of  useful  books  ;  the  very  active  arcluoo- 
logical  society,  founded  in  ISSl ;  a  society  of  gardening  and  of 
agriculture  ;  several  technical,  artistic,  and  musical  societies  ;  and 
the  very  active  young  society  of  the  friends  of  natural  science,  which 
already  has  published  many  useful  volumes. 

Among  the  museums  of  Moscow,  the  musenm,  formerly  Buman- 
tseffa,  now  connected  with  the  so-called  "public  museum,"  occupies 
the  first  rank.  It  contains  a  library  of  160,000  volumes  and  2300 
MSS. ,  remarkable  collections  of  old  pictures,  sculptures,  and  prints, 
aa  well  as  a  rich  mineralogicsl  collection,  and  an  ethncgrapliical 
collection  representing  very  accurately  the  various  inhabitants  of 
Russia.  Tho  historical  museum  has  already  been  mentioned.  Tho 
private  museum  of  Prince  Golitzyn  contains  a  good  collection  of 
paintings  and  MSS. ;  and  great  treasures  of  archeology  are  amassed 
in  various  private  collections  in  Moscow  and  its  suburbs. 

The  periodical  press  does  not  on  the  whole  exercise  great  influ- 
ence ;  twenty-five  periodicals  are  published,  besides  those  of  scientific 
societies.  But  Moscow  publishes  a  far  larger  number  of  books  for 
primary  inati-uciiou  and  of  the  humblest  kind  of  literature  and  prints 
for  the  use  of  peasants  than  any  other  Russian  city, 
.  The  philanthropic  institutions  are  numerous,  the  first  rank  being 
occupied  by  the  immense  Foundlings'  Hospital,  erected  in  1764. 
The  nospitals,  municipal,  military,  and  pri\'ate,  are  very  large,  but 
much  below  the  standard  of  other  capitals.  The  number  of  private 
philanthropic  institutions  is  very  considerable. 

Though  the  drama  was  introduced  into  Russia  at  Kieff,  Moscow 
was  the  place  of  its  development.  The  earliest  stage  representations 
were  made  at  Moscow  in  1640,  and  the  first  comedy — a  translation  of 
iloVi^.re'aSfddecmAfcUip-^Lui — was  played  in  the  palace  before  Sophie, 
tho  sister  of  Peter  I.  It  was  only  in  1769  that  a  theatre  was  erected. 
A  lar.ge  stone  theatre  was  erected  in  1776,  and  rebuilt  in  1856  after 
a  fire.  It  is  for  the  Moscow  stage  that  the  best  Russian  dramas 
have  been  written,  and  it  was  in  the  "  small  theatre  "  that  the  best 
Russian  actors — Schepkin,  Sadovsky,  Shumsky,  and  Madame  Va-si- 
lieff — exhibited  the  comedies  of  Gogol,  Griboyedolf,  and  Ostrovsky. 

Moscow,  where  the  Great-Russian  language  is  spoken  in  its 
graitest  purity,  was  the  bii'thplace  of  the  two  chief  Russian  noets, 
Pushkin  and  Lermontoff,  as  well  as  of  Griboyedolf,  Ostrovsky,  and 
Hcrzen.  A  monument  to  Pushkin  was  erected  in  1880,  on  the 
Tverskoy  boulevard.  Griboyedoff,  in  his  remarkable  comc^ly  Gori 
U  siijw,  has  given  a  lively  picture  of  the  higher  Moscow  society  of 
the  beginning  of  this  century,  which  continued  to  hold  good  until 
within  the  last  few  years.  His  remark  as  to  the  unmistakable 
individuality  of  the  Moscow  type  also  maintains  its  truth ;  although 
the  physiognomy  of  Moscow  has  much  changed  since  his  day,  it 
Btill  h.os  its  special  features  that  distinguish  it  from  every  other 
capital.  The  division  of  classes  is  much  more  felt  at  Moscow  than 
elsewhere.  The  tendency  towards  m-iginality,  the  love  of  grandiose 
undertakings,  a  kind  of  brag,  together^ with  little  feeling  of  inde- 
pendence, a  good  deal  of  laziness,  and  much  cordiality,  still  charac- 
terize the  educated  classes.  The  merchants  live  quite  aloof  from 
any  political  or  even  intellectual  movement,  under  a  rude  patri- 
archal system,  well  described  in  the  dramas  of  Ostrovslcy.  A  large 
proportion  of  them  are  nonconformists.  Their  sons,  the  weS- 
Known  kupecheskiye  synki,  "merchants'  sons,"  when  they  leave 
this  kind  of  life,  astonish  tho  capital  witli  their  extravagances  and 
absurd  display  of  wealth.  But  Moscow  takes  its  present  phj-siog- 
nomy  chiefly  from  its  busy  lower  classes.  The  streets  aro  full  of 
merchants  and  peasants,  who  continue  to  wear  the  old  Ruasian  garb, 
go  on  foot  in  the  sti-ects,  drink  tea  in  modest  restaurants,  and  trans- 
act large  business.  From  being  a  town  of  the  aristocracy,  Moscow 
is  coming  to  be  more  and  more  a  torni  of  the  wealthy  middle 
classes,  who  persist  in  keeping  the  low  educational  level  of  tho 
peasants  in  the  villages,  ana  have  but  one  aspiration,  to  beoome  in 
their  turn  "merchants"  of  tho  t>'pe  described  by  Ostrovsky. 

Suburbs. — iloscow  is  suiTOunded  by  beautiful  parks  and  pictur- 
esque suburbs.  Of  the  formerone  of  the  most  frequented  is  the  Petior- 
eky  Park,  to  the  north-west.  A  little  farther  out  is  the  Pctrovskoye 
llaziunoyskoye  estate,  with  an  agricultural  academy  and  its  do- 
pndencies  (boUinical  garden,  experimental  farm,  &c.).  Another 
largo  park  and  wood  surround  an  imperial  palace  in  the  village 
of  Ostankino.  Tho  private  estates  of  Kuzminki,  Kuskovo,  and 
Kuntzevo  are  also  surrounded  by  parks  ;  the  last  has  remains 
of  a  yery  old  graveyard,  supposed  to  belong  to  the  pagan  period. 
Twenty-eight  miles  westward  from  the  city  is  the  Sawin-Storojevsky 
monastery,  situated,  like  so  mnnyother  Russian  monasteries,  jn  a  very 
fertile  country,  amidst  beautiful  forests  ;  it  has  a  pretty  cathedral, 
a  rich  treasury,  and  library.  Farther  westward  still  is  the  New 
Jerusalem  monastery  erected  by  the  patriarch  N.ikon. 


In  the  south-west,  on  the  right  bank  of  the  Moekva,  which  hero 
makea  a  great  bend  to  the  south,  are  the  Vorobiovy  hills,  which 
are  accessible  by  steamer  from  Moscow,  and  afford  one  c\f  tho  best 
views  of  the  capital.  In  the  bend  of  the  Moskva  is  situated  the 
Novo-Dyevitchiy  convent,  erected  in  1525,  aud  connected  with 
many  events  of  Russian  history.  It  is  now  tKs  burial-place  of  tho 
Moscow  aristocracy,  and  one  of  the  richest  nunneries  in  Russia.  The 
village  Arkhangelskoye  has  also  a  good  park  and  a  palace  built  by 
RastreUi.  Iliynskoje,  formerly  a  private  estate,  was  purchased  by 
the  imperial  family  in  1864. 

In  the  south,  on  the  road  to  Sorpukhoff,  is  the  village  of 
Kolomenskoye,  the  residence  of  Alexis  Mikhailovitch,  with  a 
church  built  in  1531  (a  striking  monument  of  Russian  architecture, 
restored  in  1880).  Diakovo  has  also  a  church  built  in  the  16th  and 
17th  centuries — a  pure  example  of  the  architecture  of  Moscow, 
recalling  the  temple  of  Vasili  Blnjennyi.  One  of  the  best  sites  in 
the  neighbourhood  of  Moscow  is  occupied  by  the  park  of  Tsaritzyno 
(11  miles  from  the  Eur^  railway^jtation),  purchased  by  Catherine 
II.,  with  an  unfinished  palace  ard  a  beautiful  park.  The  monastery 
Nikolo-Ugryeshskiy,  12  miles  from  the  city,  between  the  Kursk 
and  Ryazan  railways,  also  occupies  a  beautiful  site,  and  is  much 
visited  by  Moscow  merchants,  to  venerate  a  holy  picture  by  which 
Dmitry  Donskoy  is  said  to  have  bejn  blessed  before  going  to  fight 
the  Mongols. 

In  the  north,  the  forest  of  Sokolniki,  covering  4  J  squai^  miles, 
with  its  radial  alleys  and  numerous  summer  residences,  is  the  part  of 
Moscow  most  frequented  by  the  middle  clnsses.  Close  by,  towards 
the  east,  is  situated  the  Preobrajenskoye  suburb,  the  centre  of  the 
nonconformists,  and  farther  south  tho  village  of  Izmailovo,  with  a 
home  for  invalids  and  a  model  farm  for  apiculture.  To  the  west 
of  Sokolniki  is  situated  the  wood  of  Mariiua,  the  favourite  resort 
of  the  merchants  and  "  merchants'  sons,"  who  there  spend  fabulous 
sums  of  money  on  choirs  of  Gipsy  singers. 

Hialory. — Tlie  Russian  annals  first  mention  Moscow  in  1147  as  a 
place  where  Yuri  Dolgoruki  met  with  Svyatoslav  of  SyeveWk  and 
his  allies.  The  site  was  inhabited  from  a  very  remote  antiquity 
by  the  Merya  and  Mordviuians,  whose  remains  are  numerous  in 
the  neighbourhood,  and.it  was  well  peopled  by  Great-Russians  in 
the  12th  century.  To  the  end  of  the  13th  century  Moscow  re- 
mained a  dependency  cf  the  princes  of  Vladimir,  and  fiad  to  suffer 
from  the  raids  of  the  Mongols,  who  burned  and  plundered  it  in 
1237  and  1293.  It  is  only  under  the  rule  of  Daniil,  son  of  Alex- 
ander  Nevsky  (1261-1302),  that  tho  prince  of  Moscow  acquired 
some  importance  for  the  part  he  took  in  tho  wars  against  the 
Lithuanians.  He  annexed  to  hia  principality  Kolomna,  cituatod 
at  the  confluence  of  the  Moskva  with  '.he  Oka.  His  son  in  1302 
annexed  Pereyaslavl  Zalcssky,  and  next  year  Mojaisk  (taking  thus 
possession  of  the  Moskva  from  its  head  to  its  mouth),  and  bo 
inaugurated  a  policy  which  lasted  for  centuries,  and  consisted  in 
the  annexation  by  purchase  and  other  means  of  the  neighbouring 
towns  and  villages.  In  1300  tho  Kremlin,  or  fort,  was  enclosed 
by  a  strong  wall  of  earth  and  wood,  offering  a  protection  to  nu- 
merous emigrants  from  the  Tver  and  Ryazan  principalities  who 
went  to  settle  around  the  new  city.  Under  Jolin  Kalita  (1325- 
1341)  the  principality  of  Vladimir  — where  tho  princes  of  Kieff 
and  the  metropolitan  of  Russia  had  taken  refuge  after  the  wars 
that  desolated  south-western  Russia — became  united  with  Moscow  ; 
and  in  1325  the  metropolitan  Peter  established  his  seat  at  Moscow, 
giving  thus  a  now  importance  and  a  powerful  support  to  tho  young 
principality.  In  1367  tlie  Kremlin  was  enclosed  by  stone  walls, 
which  soon  proved  strong  enough  to  resist  the  Lithuanians  under 
Olgerd  (1368  and  1371).  Tin  son  and  grandson  of  Kalita  steadily 
pursued  tho  same  policy.  The  latter  (Dmitry  Donskoy)  annexed 
the  dominions  of  Starodub  and  Rostoff,  and  took  pai-t  in  the  re- 
nowned battlo  of  Kulikovo  (1380),  where  the  Russians  ventured  for 
the  first  time  to  oppose  the  Mongols  in  a  great  pitched  battle. 
Tho  church,  which  strongly  supported  the  princes  of  iloscow, 
ascribed  the  presumed  victory  to  him  and  to  the  holy  pictnres 
of  the  Moscow  monasteries. 

At  this  time  Moscow  occupied  a  wide  ai-ea  covered  with  villages. 
The  Ej-emlin  had  tliree  cathedrals-^ld,  small,  and  dark  buildings, 
having  narrow  ■u-indows  filled  ivith  mica-plates — which  were  sur- 
rounded by  the  plain  wooden  houses  of  tho  prince  and  his  boyara.' 
To  the  east  of  the  Ki-cmlin  was  \h^  posad,  or  city,  also  enclosed  by 
a  wall,  and  even  then  an  important  centre  |^  trade.  Different 
parts  of  the  town  belonged  to  different  princes.  1^  1366  Moscow  suf- 
fered from  pestilence.  Two  years  after  the  battle  df  Kulikovo  it  was 
taken  and  plundered  (for  the  last  time)  by  the  khan  (Toktamish), 

The  gradual  increase  of  the  principality  continued  during  the 
first  half  of  the  15th  century,  and  at  the  death  of  Vasili  II.  the 
Blind,  in  1462,  it  included  not  only  the  whole  of  what  is  now  the 
government  of  Moscow,  but  also  large  parts  of  the  present  govern- 
ments of  Kaluga,  Tula,  Vladimir,  Nijni  -  Novgorod,  Kostroma, 
Vyatka,  Vologda,  Yaroslav,  and  Tver.  Still  the  prince,  although 
assuming,  like  several  others,  the  title  of  Great  Prince,  had  simply 


860 


M  O  S  — M  O  S 


a  littlo  mftrc  influence  than  other  independent  rulers  in  the  affairs 
of  north-eastern  Russia,  and  was  recognized  as  the  eldest  prince 
by  the  khans.  The  towns  which  reco^^nized  his  supremacy  were 
<iuite  independent,  and  only  paid  to  his  representatives  the  judi- 
ciary taxes,  in  exchange  for  military  protection.  It  is  only  under 
Ivan  HI.  {called  the  Great  by  some  Russian  historians)  that  the 
prince  of  filoscow  asserted  his  claims  on  other  parts  of  Russia,  and 
called  himself  "Ruler  of  all  Russia"  (Hospodar  vseya  Rosii).  It 
was  about  this  time,  when  the  wealth  of  Moscow  was  rapidly  in- 
creasing by  the  extension  of  its  trade,  that  the  embellishment  of 
the  town  began.  In  room  of  the  old  cathedral  Uspensky,  a  new 
structure  was  built  by  Fioraventi  of  Bologna,  aided  by -Novgorod 
masons.  The  cathedral  Arkhangelsky  was  also  rebuilt,  and  a  third, 
lilagovyeschensky,  was  erected,  as  well  as  a  stone  palace  and  other 
buildings.  The  Kremlin  was  fortified  by  strong  towers,  and  the 
houses  and  churches  built  close  to  the  walls  were  destroyed.  In 
1520  Moscow  was  said  to  contain  45,000  houses  and  100,000  in- 
habitants. Its  trade  was  very  active.  Ivan  IV.  finally  annexed 
Novgorod  and  Pskov  to  ^loscow,  and  subdued  Kazan  and  Astra- 
khan. But  after  this  reign  Moscow  suffered  for  a  long  time  a 
series  of  misfortunes.  In  1547  two  dreadful  conflagiations  destroyed 
nearly  all  thn  city,  and  a  few  days  later  the  khan  of  the  Crimea 
advanced  against  it  with  100,000  men.  He  was  compelled  to  retire 
from  the  banks  of  the  Oka,  but  in  1571,  taking  advantage  of  the 
state  into  which  Russia  was  brought  by  the  extravagances  of  Ivan, 
ho  took  JIoscow  and  burned  all  the  town  outside  the  Kremlin. 
The  gates  of  the  Kremlin  having  been  shut,  thousands  of  people 
died  in  the  flames,  and  the  annals  record  that  of  the  200,000  who 
then  formed  the  population  of  Moscow,  only  30,000  remained.  In 
1591  the  ]\Iongols  were  again  in  Moscow  and  avenged  their  repulse 
from  the  KicniHu  en  the  inhabitants  of  the  open  town. 

By  the  ead  of  t.ho  16th  century  Moscow  was  a  large  city,  not 
less  than  14  miles  in  circumference.  The  "  Great  Posad,"  or  city, 
containing  :ieveral  Gostinoy  Dvors  for  merchants  of  all  nationali- 
ties, was  enclosed  in  1534  by  a  trench  and  stono  wall,  which 
still  exist  The  "  White  Town  "  which  enclosed  the  Kremlin  and 
Great  Posad  from  west  and  north  was  also  fortified,  in  15S6,  by  a 
stono  wall  (ilcstroyed  in  the  ISth  century)  ;  and  in  15S3  a  third 
enclosure,  a  ;>alisaded  earthen  wall,  the  Zemlyanoy-Gorod,  was  begun, 
including  all  the  town  that  surrounded  the  three  former  subdivi- 
sions ;  it  remained  until  the  end  of  the  18th  century.  Foreigners 
who  visited  Moscow  spoke  with  astonishment  of  its  wealth  and  its 
beauty.  But  tlie  internal  aSairs  of  the  capital  were  in  very  bad 
case.  During  the  century,  oaring  to  the  increase  of  population, 
new  annexai  ions,  and  a  lively  trade,  the  power  of  the  boyars  had 
gradually  increased.  The  peasants  who  settled  on  their  lands,  or 
on  the  estates  of  the  prince  given  to  boyars,  had  gradually  become 
their  serfs  ;  and  the  political  tendency  of  the  boyars,  suppotted 
by  the  wealthier  middle  classes  (which  had  also  a  rapid  develop- 
ment in  tlK  same  century),  was  to  become  rulers  of  Russia,  like 
the  noblesse  of  Poland.  During  the  reign  of  Theodore,  Boris 
Godunoff,  the  regent,  ordered  the  murder  of  the  heir  to  the  throne, 
Demetrius,  son  of  Ivan  IV,,  and  himself  becamo  czar  of  Russia. 
Moscow  suffered  severely  in  the  struggle  which  ensued,  especially 
when  the  populace  rose  and  exterminated  the  Polish  gamson,  on 
which  occasion  the  whole  of  the  town  outside  the  iCremlin  was 
again  burned  and  plundered.  But  in  compensation  it  had  acquired 
in  the  eyes  of  the  nation  a  greatly-increased  moral  importance,  as 
a  stronghold  against  foreign  invasions.  The  monastery  of  Troitsa, 
■which  the  Poles  besieged  without  taking,  was  invested  with  a 
higher  sanctity.  The  touii  also  by  and  by  recovered  its  commercial 
importance,  and  this  the  more  as  other  commercial  cities  were 
ruined,  or  fell  into  the  hands  of  foreigners  ;  and  thirty  years  after 
1612  LIoscow  was  again  a  wealthy  city.  O^nng,  however,  to  the 
ever-increasing  concentration  of  power  in  the  hands  of  the  czars, 
and  the  steady  development  of  autocracy,  it  lost  much  of  its 
political  importance,  and  assumed  more  and  more,  especially  under 
Alexis  Mikhailovitch,  the  character  of  a  private  estate  of  the  czar, 
its  suburbs  becoming  mere  dependencies  of  his  vast  household. 

During  the  whole  of  the  17th  century  Moscow  continued  to  be 
the  scene  of  many  troubles  and  internal  stniggles.  The  people 
fccveral  times  revolted  against  the  favourites  of  tlie  czar,  ana  were 
subdued  only  by  cruel  executions,  in  which  the  sircltzy — a  class 
of  citizens  and  merchants  rendering  hereditary  military  service — 
supported  the  czar.  Afterwards  appeared  the  rasJcol  or  noncon- 
fonnifit  movement,  and  in  1648,  when  the  news  spread  that  Stenka 
Razin  was  advancing  on  Moscow  "to  settle  his  accounts  with  the 
boyars,"  the  populace  was  kept  from  rising  only  by  severe  repres- 
sive measures  and  by  the  defeat  of  the  invader.  Later  on,  the 
sfreltzy  themselves  engaged  in  a  scries  of  rebellions,  which  led  the 
youthful  Peter  I.  to  shed  rivers  of  blood.  The  opposition  encoun- 
tered at  Moscow  by  his  plana  of  reforming  Russia  according  to  his 
ideal  of  military  autocracy,  the  conspiracies  of  the  boyars  and  mer- 
thants,  the  distrust  of  the  mass  of  the  people,  all  compelled  him 
afterwards  to  leave  tlie  city,  and  to  seek,  as  his  ancestors  had 
done,  for  a  new  capibil.  Tliia  he  founded  on  the  very  confines  of 
the  ni^itary  empire  he  was  trying  to  establish. 


In  tho  course  of  the  18th  century  Moscow  became  the  s^at  of  % 
passive  and  discontented  opposition  to  the  St  Petersburg  Govem- 
raent.  Peter  I.,  wishing  to  see  Moscow  like  other  capitals  of  westera 
Europe,  ordered  that  only  stone  houses  should  be  built  within  th< 
walls  of  the  town,  that  tho  streets  should  be  paved,  and  so  on  ; 
but  his  orders  were  only  partially  executed.  In  1722  the  Kremlin 
was  restored.  In  1739  the  city  becamo  onca  more  the  prey  of  » 
great  conflagration  ;  two  others  followed  in  1743  and  1753,  anff 
gave  an  opportunity  for  enlarging  some  streets  and  squares;  In 
1755  the  first  Russian  university'  was  founded  at  Moscow.  Catherine 
II.  tried  to  conciliate  the  nobility,  and  applied  herself  to  benefit 
the  capital  with  new  and  useful  buildings,  such  as  the  senate  hous^ 
the  foundlings'  and  several  other  hospitals,  salt  stores,  ice  Tho 
cemeteries  within  the  town  ayere  closed  after  the  plague  of  1771 ; 
several  streets  were  enlarged,  and  the  squares  cleared  of  the  email 
shops  that  encumbered  them.  Water  was  brought  by  an  aqueduct 
from  the  Mytischi  villages.  In  1787  the  city  had  303  churches,  24 
monasteries  and  convents,  8965  houses  (of  which  1595  were  ofstone^ 
one  printing-ofiice,  and  314  manufactories  and  larger  workshops;. 

The  last  public  disaster  was  experienced  by  Moscow  in  1812.  On 
13th  September,  six  days  after  the  battle  of  Borodino,  the  Ruseiaa 
troops  evacuated  Moscow,  leaving  11,000  wounded,  and  the  next 
day  the  French  occupied  the  Kremlin.  The  same  night,  while 
Napoleon  was  waiting  for  a  deputation  of  Moscow  notables,  and 
received  only  a  deputation  of  the  rich  raskohiik  merchants,  th« 
capital  was  set  on  fire  by  its  own  inhabitants,  tho  Gostinoy  Dvor, 
with  its  stores  of  wine,  spirits,  and  chemical  stuffs,  becoming  the 
first  prey  of  th-j  flames.  The  inhabitants  abandoned  the  city,  and 
it  was  pillaged  by  the  French  troops,  as  well  as  by  Russians  them- 
selves, and  the  burning  of  Moscow  became  the  signal  of  a  general 
rising  of  the  peasants  against  the  French.  The  want  of  supplit-a 
and  the  impossibility  of  wintjoring  in  a  ruined  city,  continually 
attacked  by  Cossacks  and  peasants,  compelled  Napoleon  to  leave 
JIoscow  on  19th  October,  after  he  1^  uusuccesaftUly  tried  to  blow 
up- certain  parts  of  tho  Kremlin.  (P.  A.  K.) 

MOSELLE.     See  Rhin-e. 

MOSER,  JoHAifN  Jakob  (1701-1785),  jurist,  xvaa  boro 
at  Stuttgart  on  18th  January  1701.  He  studied  at  tlo 
university  of  Tubingen,  Tvhere,  at  the  early  age  of  idnet€€:i, 
be  became  professor  extraordinarius  of  law.  A  year  later 
bo  resigned  his  chair,  with  the  expectation  of  receiving  an 
appointment  at  Vienna,  but  tliia  was  refused  him  on  his 
declining  to  join  the  Catholic  Chiu-ch.  From  1729  he 
for  some  years  held  an  ordinary  professorship  of  law  at 
Tiibingen,  and  in  1736  he  accepted  a  chair  and  directorship 
in  the  university  of  FrankfortHDu-the-Oder.  On  account, 
however,  of  differences  with  King  William  I.  of  Prussia, 
be  resigned  these  in  1739  and  retired  to  Ebersdorf,  a  village 
in  the  principality  of  Reuss,  where  for  several  years  be 
devoted  himself  wholly  to  study,  and  especially  to  the 
production  of  bis  Deittsches  StaatsrecJU.  Jn  1751  be  was 
called  back  to  Wiirtemberg  as  'Mandscbaftsconsulent,* 
and  in  1759  was  imprisoned  at  Hobentwiel  on  account  of 
the  steps  be  bad  taken  in  connexion  with  this  office  against 
certain  tyrannical  proceedings  of  the  duke..  In  1764  ho 
received  bis  liberty  and  was  restored  to  office,  but  from 
that  time  took  little  part  in  political  affairs.  He  died  30tli 
September  1785. 

Moser  was  the  first  to  discuss  in  an  adequate  form  the  subject  of 
European  international  law,  and  he  is  the  most  voluminous  German 
writer  on  public  law.  In  oU,  he  \vrote  more  than  500  volumes, 
his  principal  works  being  Dcuisches  Staatsi'ccht^  1737-1754  ;  2seuei 
Dcutsckcs  S(aalsrcch(,l7QQ-'L775  ;  Deutsches  Staatsarcldv,  1751-1757; 
Griindriss  der  keutigoi  StnaUvcrfassitng  von  DctUschland,  1764. 
See  Schmid,  Daa  Leben  J.  J.  Moser's,  1S6S  ;  Schulzc,  J.  J.  Moter, 
der  V'atcr  dcs  Dcutschen  Siaatsrechts,  1869.  ■ 

MOSES.  Of  the  life  of  Jtloses  we  have  few  certaia 
details,  though  the  bistory  of  Israel  bears  witness  to  the 
import^ance  of  bis  worlc  To  what  has  been  said  under 
IsR.vEL  there  will  here  be  added  a  brief  summary  of  what 
has  been  banded  down  about  him.  His  origin  and  the 
bistory  of  his  cbildhood  can  be  read  in  Exod.  i.,  ii  (comp. 
vi.  16  sq.)-y  the  statements  there  given  are  enlarged  and 
modified  in  the  Jewish  Midrash,  particularly  as  we  find  it 
in  Josepbus  and  Philo.^  The  daughter  of  Pharaoh,  we  are 
told,  was  called  Thermutis  (Ant.^  ii  9,  5),  or  Merris  (Euseb., 


1  In  still  more  fantastic  form  in  tho  Psleatiniftn  Taigiun  on  Exodus^ 
the  details  of  which  neoil  not  be  r^petted  hare. 


MOSES 


861 


Trtip.  ^.,  ix.  27) ;  die  named  the  boy  Moiwr^s,  not  because 
she  used  the  Hebrew  verb  mm  to  express  the  fact  that  he 
was  drawn  out  of  the  water,  but  because  the  Egyptian  word 
for  water  wis  ma,  and  iwijs  applies  tc  those  who  have  been 
delivered  from  it  (^re<.,  ii.  9,  6 ;  comp.  Philo,  ed.  Mangey, 
ii.  83 ;  Euseb.,  I.e.',  ix.  28).  She  took  care  to  have  hiin 
trained  in  all  the  wisdom  of  the  Egyptians  (Acts  vii.  22) 
and  in  that  of  the  Greeks,  Assyrians,  and  CUaldaeans  as 
well  (Philo,  ii  8i).  To  his  great  intellectual  endowments 
eorresponded  his  personal  beauty,  of  which  Josephua  speaks 
in  extravagant  terms  {Ant.,  ii  9,  6-7).  It  was  on  account 
of  this  beauty  that,  when  on  one  occasion,  as  a  young  man, 
he  led  an  Egyctian  army  against  Meroo,  the  Ethiopian 
princess  Tharbis  opened  the  gates  of  the  capital  to  him  in 
order  to,  make  him  her  husband  {Ant.,  ii.  10;  comp.  Numb, 
xii.  1).  ' 

For  reasons  explained  in  Exod.  ii.  11  so.,  Moses  Vii 
the  land  of  Pharaoh  and  came  to  Midian  to  the  Kcnite 
priest  Jethro  (also  called  Hobab  Ben  Eaguel  and  Raguel), 
whose  daughter  Zipporah  he  married,  becoming  by  her  the 
father  of  two  sons,  Gershom  and  Eliezer  (Ezod.  ii.  21  tq.; 
xviii.  2  »q.).  During  his  stay  in  Midian  he  received,  at 
the  foot  of  Sinai  (Horeb),  the  divine  revelation  at  the 
burning  bush  whereby  he  was  called  to  become  the  liberator 
of  Isriel  from  Egyptian  bondage.  With  much  reluctance 
be  at  last  accepted  this  vocation,  and,  already  expected  by 
his  brother  Aaron  and  the  elders,  returned  to  his  people.' 
Arrived  in  Egypt,  he  associated  Aaron  with  him  as  his 
interpreter,  being  himself  no  orator,  but  a  man  of  counsel 
and  action,  and  appeared  before  Pharaoh  to  demand  of  the 
king  in  Jehovah's  name  permission  for  the  people  to  go  with 
flocks  and  herds  into  the  wilderness  to  celebrate  there  a 
festival  (the  spring  festival  of  the  Passover)  in  honour  of 
their  God.  Jehovah  gave  emphasis  to  the  demand  by 
great  signs  and  wonders, — the  plagues  of  Egypt,  which  have 
their  explanation  for  the  most  part  in  evils  to  which  Egypt 
ia  periodically  liable,  but  are  treated  by  Israelite  tradition 
as  the  weapons  of  Jehovah  in  his  ever-intensifying  conflict 
with  the  king  and  the  gods  of  Egypt.  At  length,  by  the 
slaying  of  the  first-born,  the  stubbornness  of  Pharaoh  was 
broken,  so  that  he  consented  to,  and  even  urged,  the  de- 
parture of  the  Hebrews.  By  and  by,  however,  he  changed 
his  mind,  and,  setting  out  in  pursuit  of  the  Hebrews,  over- 
took them  at  the  Red  Sea ;  but  Jehovah  fought  for  them, 
and  annihilated  Pharaoh's  chariots  and  all  his  host.  In 
order  to  present  themselves  in  proper  festal  array  at  the 
celebration  for  the  sake  of  which  they  were  going  into  the 
wilderaess,  the  Hebrew  women  had  borrowed  dresses  and 
ornaments  from  those  of  Egypt ;  the  Egyptians  could  now 
only  blame  themselves  and  their  hostile  conduct  if  those 
articles  were  not  returned.' 

By  the  miracle  wrought  at  the  Red  Sea  Moses  was 
pointed  out  to  the  Hebrews  as  the  man  of  God,  to  whom 
accordingly  they  now  committed  the  task  of  caring  for 
thi  ir  outward  life  as  well  as  their  spiritual  guidance.  He 
led  them  first  to  Sinai,  where  the  law  was  revealed  and  the 
worship  in  connexion  with  the  ark  of  the  covenant  insti- 
tuted. When  he  had  communed  face  to  face  with  the 
Godhead  for  forty  days  on  the  holy  mountain,  the  skin  of 
his  face  shone  so  that  he  had  to  wear  a  veil  (hence  the 
boras,  properly  rays,  on  his  forehead).  Driven  irom  Sinai 
in  consequence  of  their  worship  of  the  golden  calf,  the 
Israelites  removed  to  Eadesh  with  the  view  of  entering 


>  Od  the  road  occurred  the  remaikable  incident  which,  in  the  view 
of  the  narrator,  led  to  the  circumcision  of  infants  being  substituted 
foi  that  of  the  bridegroom  (Eiod.  i7.  21,  25  ;  \hyh  Wni,  to  mark 
the  suUtitution, — compare  the  euphemism  in  Isa.  viL  20). 

'  Quite  contrary  to  the  sense  of  the  Biblical  narrative,  Justin  (xxrvt 
S,  13)  says,  "  Sacra  iEgyptiorum  furto  abstulit ; "  and  still  more  per- 
verse is  tb«  glosa  which  £wald,  proceeding  spoB  tliil  upreuion  of 
i^utiQ,  givea. 


Palestine.  But  this  plan  was  defeated  by  their  unbelief 
and  faintheartedness,  and,  aa  a  punishment,  they  were 
compelled  to  sojourn  forty  years  in  the  wilderness  of  Eadesh 
(Paran,  Sin).  It  was  here  and  now  that  the  people  went 
to  school  with  Moses ;  here,  at  the  sanctuary  of  the  camp, 
he  declared  law  and  judgment;  and  here,  according  to 
the  view  of  the  oldest  tradition,  the  foundations  of  the 
Torah  were  laid  (Exod.  xviii.).  The  region  of  Eadesh 
was  also  the  scene  of  almost  all-  the  miracles  and  other  cir- 
cumstances we  read  about  Moses.  Here  he  showed  himself 
to  be  at  once  the  father  and  mother  of  the  people,  their 
judge,  priest,  and  seer.  It  was  not  till  towards  the  very 
close  of  his  life  that  he  led  the  Israelites  from  Eadesh  into 
northern  Moab,  which  he  wrested  from  the  Amorite  king, 
Sihon  of  Heshbon,  Here  he  died  on  Mount  Pisgah  or 
Nebo,  after  taking  leave  of  the  people  in  the  great  legisla- 
tive address  of  Deuteronomy.  According  to  Deuteronomy 
xxxiv.  6,  he  "  was  buried  in  a  valley  in  the  land  of  Moab, 
.  .  .  but  no  man  knoweth  of  his  sepulchre  unto  'Jiis  day."  ' 
As  his  successor  in  the  leadership,  Moses  had  named  Joshua 
ben  Nun,  but  -the  real  heirs  to  his  position  and  influence 
were  the  priests  at  the  sanctuary  of  the  ark  of  the  covenant. 
Of  his  personal  character  the  Bible  tells  us  nothing  (for 
UV  in  Numb.  xii.  3  means  orJy  "  heavily  burdennd  ")  ;  but 
'later  Judaism  is  all  the  more  at  liberty  on  this  t.ccount  to 
expatiate  upon  it  (see  especially  Josephus,  Ant.,  iv.  8,  49). 

Such  in  brief  r^3Umi  are  the  accounts  of  Moses  given  in  the  Bible* 
and  the  Midrasb.  In  addition  to  these  we  have  also  the  statementa 
of  Hellenistic  writers,  preserved  chiefly  in  the  Contra  Apionem  of 
Josephua.  These  are  all  of  an  Egyptian  complexion,  an  1  pi'obably 
embody  no  ancient  and  independent  tradition,  but,  in  all  that 
relates  to  the  Hebrews,  where  they  do  not  rest  upon  pure  conjec- 
ture, merely  go  back  upon  obscure  rumours  of  .Jowiah  origin  and 
dress  them  up  after  the  manner  of  the  Midrash — only  in  a  con- 
trary sense,  with  hatred  and  not  with  love — and  then  seek  to  fit 
them  aa  well  as  may  be  into  the  Egyptian  history  and  chronology 
as  known  from  otlier  sources.  The  great  number  of  new  proper 
names  of  places  and  persona  which  occur  in  the  writings  of  Manetho 
and  his  like  cannot  be  urged  against  this  view,  for  the  Midrash  also 
is  full  of  them.  The  very  name  Osarsiph,  given  to  Moat>3  himself, 
moreover,  suggests  a  suspicion  of  dependence  on  the  Asaphsuph, 
"mited  multitude"  of  Numb.  xi.  4  (comp.  Exod.  xii.  36) ;  wnat 
is  said  in  these  places  is  known  to  have  played  a  great  part  in  th» 
rise  of  the  idle  Egyptian  tales  about  the  origin  of  the  Jews  and  of 
their  lawgiver. 

For  literature,  see  the  varions  commentaries  on  the  Pentateuch, 
end  especially  DUlmann  on  Exodus.  (.1.  WE. ) 

MOSES  OP  Choeene  was  a  native  of  Ehor'ni  *  in  Tarfln, 
a  district  of  the  Armenian  province  of  Turuberan.  Accord^ 
ing  to  the  only  trustworthy"  authority — the  Hktort/  o/ 
Armenia^  which  bears  his  name — he  was  a  pufil  of  the 
two  fathers  of  Armenian  literature,  the  patriarch  or  catho- 
licos  Sahak  the  Great  and  the  vartabed  Mesrdb.  Shortly 
after  ^31  he  was  sent  by  these  men  to  Alexandria  to  study 
the  Greek  language  and  literature,  and  thus  prejjare  hiln- 
self  for  the  task  of  translating  Greek  writioga  into 
Armenian.  Moses  took  his  journey  by  Edessa  and  the 
sacred  places  of  Palestine.  After  finishing  his  studies  in 
the  Egyptian  capital  lie  set  sail  for  Greece ;  but  the  ship 
was  driven  by  contrary  winds  to  Italy,  and  he  f.eized  the 
opportunity  of  paying  a  flying  visit  to  Rome.  He  then 
visited  Athens,  and  towards  the  end  of  winter  (440)  arrived 
in  Constantinople,  Whence  he  set  out  on  his  homeward 
journey.  On  his  arrival  ia  Armenia  he  found  that  hi» 
patrons  were  both  dead.  The  History  of  Arvunia  speaks 
of  its  author  as  an  old,  infirm  man,  constantly  -mgaged  in 
the  work  of  translating  '    In  the  later  Armenian  tradition 


•  The  legend  of  his  assumption  is  of  later  growth  ;  see  Vie  apocryphal 
Atsvtmptio  Moysis  (Apooalyttio  Lttkbatdse,  vol  ii  p.  177),  and 
compare  Luke  ix  30,  33  ;  Jude  9. 

•  Outside  of  the  Hexateuch,  however,  he  is  almost  nei  er  raentianed. 

•  Ct  Sukias  Somal,  (^uadro  dtUa  itoria  letteraria  di  Armmia,  p» 
U  tq.  '  'ii-  61  't-i  68,  66. 

'  On  linguistic  grounds,  the  Uechitarists  ascribe  to  hun  the  ttuuUr 
ttOB  of  £aseblua'i  Chrmide  and  of  the  Pwudo-CaUistb'iuei, 


862 

■we  find  other  notices  of  this  celebrated  man,^ — such  as, 
that  he  was  the  nephew  of  Mesr6b,  that  he  \ras  publicly 
complimented  by  the  emperor  Marcian,  that  he  had  been 
ordained  bishop  of  Bagrewand  by  the  patriarch  Giut,  and 
that  he  was  buried  in  the  church  of  the  Apostolic  Cloister 
at  Mush  in  the  district  of  Taron ;  but  these  accounts  must 
be  received  with  great  caution.  This  reniark  applies 
especially  to  the  statement  of  Thomas  Ardsmni,-  that 
MCises,  like  his  Hebrew  prototype,  lived  to  the  age  of  120 
years,  and  recorded  his  own  death  in  a  fourth  book  of  his 
great  work.'  The  same  caution  mast  be  extended  to 
another  tradition,  based  on  an  arbitrary  construction  of  a 
passage  in  Samuel  of  Ani,*  which  places  his  death  in  the 
year  4S9. 

Of  the  worts  of  Moses  '  the  best  known  is  the  History 
of  Armenia,^  cr,  as  the  more  eitct  title  runs,  the  Genedlogi- 
cal  Account  of  Great  Armenia.  It  consists  of  three  books, 
and  reaches  down  to  the  death  of  Saint  Mesr6b,  in  the 
second  year  of  Jazdegcrd  II  (17th  February  440)."  It  is 
dedicated  to  Sahak  Eagratuni  (who  was  afterwards  chosen 
to  lead  the  revolted  Armenians  in  the  year  4S1),  as  the 
man  under  whose  auspices  the  work  had  been  undertaken. 
This  work,  which  in  course  of  time  acquired  canonical 
authority  among  the  Armenians,  is  partly  compiled  froiji 
sources  which  we  yet  possess,  viz.,  the  Life  of  Saint  Gregory 
by  Agathangelos,  the  Armenian  translation  of  the  SjTiac 
Doctrine  of  Ute  Apostle  Addai,  the  Antiquities  •  a.\idi  the 
Jewish  ITar  of  Josephus,  and  above  all  the  History  of  Mar 
Abas  Kalina  (still  preserved  in  the  extract  from  the  book 
of  Sebeos),*  who,  however,  did  not  write,  as  Mtises  alleges, 
in  Syriac  and  Greek,  at  Nisibis,  about  131  B.C.,  but  was  a 
native  of  Medsurch,  and  wrote  in  S)Tiac  alone  about  3S3 
i.D.,  or  shortly  thereafter.  Besides  these,  Moses  refers  to 
a  whole  array  of  Greek  authorities,  which  were  known  to 
him  from  his  constant  use  of  Eusebius,  but  which  cannot 
possibly  have  related  aU  that  he  makes  them  relate.' 
Although  Moses  assures  us  that  he  is  going  to  rely  entirely 
upon  Greek  authors,  the  contents  of  his  work  show  that  it 
is  mainly  drawn  from  native  sources.  He  is  chiefly  indebted 
to  the  popular  ballads  and  legends  of  Armenia,  and  it  is 
to  the  use  of  such  materials  that  the  work  owes  its  perma- 
nent value.  Its  importance  for  the  history  of  religion  and 
mythology  is,  in  truth,  very  considerable,  a  fact  which  it 
is  the  great  merit  of  Erain  '^  and  Dulaurier  >'  to  have  first 
pointed  .out.  For  political  tistory,  on  the  other  hand,  it 
it  of  much  less  value  than  was  formerly  assumed.  In 
particular,  it  is  not  a  history  of  the  people  or  of  the 
country,  but  a  history  of  the  Armenian  aristocracy,  and,  in 


MOSES 


1  Collected  by  Langlois,  Collection  dcs  Jtistoriens  de  VAnyi^ie^  ii. 

5  In  Erosset,  Collection  d^hisioricns  Arm/niens,  i.  63. 

'  There  is  not  tlie  tUgUtest  allnsion  elsewhere  to  any  snch  book. 

•  lu  Erosset,  ii.  S87. 

•  Complete  edition  of  the  Mechitiirists,  Venice,  1843  ;  new  ed., 
T865,  8ro. 

«  The  oldest  MS. "is  tbat  of  S.  lanih  of  the  12th  c-entory.  Col- 
lutjons  of  MSS.  of  Etchmiadzin  imd  Jemsilem  are  given  by  Agop 
Gahsia^  15818, 1 85S,  4to.  The  book  has  been  edited  and  translated  by 
WTiiston,  London,  1786,  4to  ;  and  by  Le  Yaillant  de  Florival,  Venice 
and  Paris,  s-a.  (1841),  2  vols.  Svo. 

'  The  commencement  of  this  king's  reign  has  been  fixed  by  Noldeke 
(Oeschiehte  dcr  S^xxniden  atis  Tahari,  p.  42S)  as  4th  August  4SS  ; 
and  this  date  has  subsequently,  been  established  by  documentary 
evidence  from  the  fi^ct  of  the  martyrdom  of  Petbion  (see  Bofiinaan, 
.AHsxiiffe  aus  SyrwcA.f  ^  AlUin prrsischer  M&rtyrer^  p.  67), 

•  Translated  in  Lrjgloit,  i.  195  a;.  — 

•  For  the  followLrg  statements,  the  proofs  may  be  fonnofi  the 
article  "  Ueber  die  Ckubwurdigkeit  der  Aimeniscben  Geschichte  des 
Moses  Ton  Khoriia,"  by  the  present  writer,  in  the  Bmc}ii£  der  jthil. 
hisior.  Ciaste  dcr  lUjni^l.  Sitchs.  Oetellsck^fl  der  Wissenschj^flen^  1876, 

P-  1  »?•  \  ;> 

"  r*c  £jn{  SmJIi  c/ Ancient  Annenia  (Arm.),  Moscow,  1850. 
^  *'  £tudes  Eur  lea  chants  historiqces  et  los  traditions  populaires  de 
I'lsdens*  Anaisle,"  is  the  Jeum.  AtiaL,  Ir.,  air.  It  (1S52),  p.  S  f  ■ 


opposition  to  the  Mamikonian  tendency  which  pcrvade&'flit 
rest  of  the  older  Armenian  historical  literature,  it  is  written 
in  the  interest  of  tie  riTdl  Eagratunians.  Down  to  the  3d 
century  it  is  proved  by  the  contemporary  GrsTCO-Komaa 
annals  to  be  utterly  untrustworthy ;  but  cven'for  the  times 
of  Armenian  C!hri£tianity  it  must  be  used  far  more 
cautiously  than  has  been  done,  for  example,  by  GibboiL 
The  worst  feature  is  the  confusion  in  the  chronology,  which, 
strange  to  say,  is  most  hopeless  in  treating  of  the  con- 
temporaries of  Mosea  himself.  'What  can  be  thought  of  a 
writer  who  assigns  to  Jazdegerd  L  (399-420)  the  eleven 
years  of  his  predecessor  Bahrtai  FV.,  and  the  twenty-one 
years  of  Jazdegerd  I.  to  his  successor  Bahrdm  V.  (420-439)  t 
The  present  writer  ^  formerly  attempted  to  explain  this 
unhistorical  character  of  the  narrative  from  a  tendency 
arising  out  of  the  peculiar  ecclesiastical  and  political  cir- 
cumstances of  Armenia,  situated  as  it  was  between  the 
eastern  Koman  and  the  Persian  empires,  circumstances 
which  were  substantially  the  same  in  the  5th  as  they  were 
in  the  two  following  centuries.  In  the  course  of  further 
investigations,  however,  he  has  come  to  the  conclusion 
that,  besides  the  many  false  statements  which  Moses  of 
Khor'ni  makes  about  his  authorities,  he  gives  a  false 
acooimt  of  himself.  That  is  to  say,  the  author  of  .tha 
History  of  Armenia  is  not  the  venerable  translator  of  the 
5th  century,  but  some  Armenian  writing  under  his  name 
during  the  years  between  634  and  642.  The  proof  is 
furnished  on  the  one  hand  by  the  geographical  and  ethno- 
graphical nomenclattire  of  a  later  period  and  similar 
anachronisms,^^  which  nm  through  the  whole  book  and  are 
often  closely  incorporated  with  the  narrative  itself,  and  on 
the  other  hand  by  the  identity  of  the  author  of  the  History 
with  that  of  the  Geography,  a  point  on  which  all  doubt  b 
excluded  by  a  number  of  individual  affinities,^'  not  to  speak 
of  the  similarity  in  geographical  terminology,  llie^critical 
decision  as  to  the  authorship  of  the  Geography  settles  the 
question  for  the  History  also. 

The  Geography  is  a  meagre  sketch,  based  mainly  on  the  Chcro- 
gmphy  of  Pappus  of  Alexandria  (in  the  end  of  the  4th  century), 
and  indirectly  on  the  work  of  Ptolemy.  Only  Armenia,  the  Persian 
empire,  and  the  neighbouring  regions  of  the  East  are  independently 
described  from  local  information,  and  on  these  sections  the  valne 
of  the  little  work  depends.  Since  the  f.jst  published  text  ^  contains 
names  like  ' '  Sussians  "  ancj  "Crimea, "  Saint  Martin  in  his  edition  " 
denied  that  it  was  written  by  Mdscs,  and  assigned  its  origin  to  th» 
10th  century.  It  was  shown,  however,  by  L.  Indjidjean  •"  that 
these  are  interpolations,  which  are  not  found  in  better  manuscripts 
And  in  fact  it  is  quite  evident  that  a  book  which  gives  the  division 
of  the  Sasanid  empire  into  four  spahbehships  in  pure  old  Persian 
names  cannot  possibly  have  been  composed  at  a  long  interval  aft«r 
the  time  of  'the  Sasanidsa.  But  of  course  it  is  equally  clear  that 
such  a  book  canuot  be  a  genuine  work  of  Moses  of  Khor'ni ;  for 
that  division  of  the  empire  dates  from  the  early  pait  of  the  reign 
of  King  Chosran  I.  (681-579)."  Accordingly  the  latest  editor,  K. 
P.  Patkanow,"  to  whom  we  are  indebted  for  the  best  text  of  ths 


«  "Ueber  die  GlnubwUrdigkeit, "  &c,  p.  8  sj. 

"  Instances  of  these  may  be  found  in  i  14,  where  the  arrangement 
of  Armenian  provinces  I.,  II.,  HI.,  IV.,  introduced  in  the  year  536,  ii 
carried  back  to  Aram,  an  older  contemporary  of  Niuus  ;  and  in  tha 
passage  iii.  IS,  according  to  which  Shipto  IL  penetrated  to  E.thynia, 
although  the  Persians  did  not  reach  that  till  60S. 

"  See  the  confusion,  common  to  both  books,  between  Cappadocia  I. 
and  Armenia  I.,  in  consequence  of  which  Maralca  and  Mount  ArgXus 
are  transferred  to  the  latter  locality  {HisL,  1.  14  ;  <3eogr.,  Saiut  Martin'i 
ed.,  ii.  p.  S54) ;  also  the  passages  which  treat  of  China  and  Dchenbakur 
{Bisl.,  ii.  81 ;  Gco^.,  ii  p.  876),  &c 

"  Edition  with  translation  by  Whiston,  London,  1736,  4to. 

>•  In  the  ilimoires  histori^uet  et  gdigTaphigves  sur  tArmtnie  (PuH 
1819,  Svo),  ii.  p.  301  tq. 

"  Antiquities  of  Armmia  (Aim.),  iiL  p.  303  <}. 

"  See  Noldcke's  Tdhari,  p.  155  «g. 

"  Armiansluiji  gtOfraph>}a  ni.  w&iapo  T.  Ch.  (pripisiw  awscbljaqk 
Moiseju  ichorenskomn),  St  Petersburg,  1877,  Svo.  Before  him 
Kiepert  (in  the  lianaxA.  d.  Berliner  Akad.,  1873,  p.  B99  sq.)  had 
substantially  arrived  at  the  right  conclusion  when  be  assigned  tha 
portions  of  the  Geography  tsferring  to  Armenia  to  the  time  betvtea 
Justiitiaii  and  Mauhoa. 


be  regarded  *t  s  tt 
Siullerirorke  I-  : 

teSalzJ^Jrirr.--,: 

•a. 


M  O  S- 

Otojnoky,  it  of  pfinicia  fi«  rm  luTt  in  it  s  »riti=p  rf  tlie  Tti 
eeiita*7.  In  (hit  jadj;muit  i>«  bxmX  txmaa;  aad,  if  tie  IbsiU 
■uitii'l  Triiicli  tte  Gro^myi.y  was  oompoied  an  to  be  more  nearlr 
ieirti,  vt  may  ca.T  tL^t,  ffiu  u'^lated  tzaoeiof  Arab  mle'  (irliicli 
in  A^meiiiA  dates  £rom  C^l),  it  nmst  here  been  vzittea  oerUinlj 
aflBr  tlst  jeu-,  and  peiiianB  aboot  Ilia  year  C57.' 

Another  eztasi  iroi-k  cf  Uosea  ia  a  iliaial  cf  Shdarie,  in  ten 
booka,  dedicated  to  his  pnral  TfaeodoniE.  It  is  dnm  ap  after 
Creek  modela,  is  tie  taste  of  tie  rbetone  and  eonUatiy  of  tiie  later 
bspeiial  period.  The  examplea  are  takes  froa  aamogtatm,  Theon, 
Apiitlkonuic,  and  Libanioi ;  altloa^  tie  ajthor  ia  alao  aeqnaiatod 
vitli  loat  wiittnet,  eg.,  tie  FiUadti,  eS  Euripidea.  On  aewnat  tt 
tie  diTeqpeaoe  «  it*  ctfla  Cnm  diat  of  tie  Batmrf  tf  Armemia, 
ArmeaiaB  adiolai*'  bave  ImmIiIiiiI  to  aacribe  tie  BJuiaric  ta  Moaea 
of  Ebtn'm :  bnt,  fnmi  irhut  hat  brt  n  uid  aboTC,  tlia  ia  rt&a  to 
-rdty. 

'J  cured  name  '  are^tiae  JjtAXtr 
:/  c  Hol-y  Jiiffthcr  vf  God  and  her 

a  in  the  distiict  Asdaerata  of 

.  J5  ales  addnaeed  to  Salak ; 

'-.     Of  tie  aacnd  poena  atti-i- 

'T    T-jivT     rnr.t^mcd    in    tie 
■  -.T, 

-•Iloir. 


tt;  .    liiit 

ti-  ::  aad 

a]  .    G.) 

^:  1T;.5),  wen 

kn--    r.  .ished  in  Ilia 

dav  i.;  :.  :  _  „_beek  on  the 

9t!i  of  OcU>l>£x.  X^crs  it,  soius  -..r..-^nj.ir.ij.-  as  to  the  J'ear, 
but  tLe  probabiJity  b  in  faxonr  of  1693  or  1694.  He 
received  a  Eomewhat  irregular  education  at  the  gymnasinm 
of  his  native  place,  and  afterwards  entered  tie  nnireis^ 
of  Kiel,  -n-here  he  took  his  master's  degree  in  1718.     Hu 

£rr-  : :-j  the  field  of  literature  vas  in  a  potaiiHjJ 

tri  1  i,  VtHdicite  ajUijtue  Clirittiamoram  dit- 

<il-:  ^ch  tras  soon  foUoved  bj  *.  Tolnme  of 

OU^rr:',.  .  ■  i  :  .r  (1721).  These  voffa,  along  vilb  the 
Teput:itiDn  Le  li^d  c;  quired  as  a  lecturer  on  jAaioaof^j, 
and  al:-o  ls  a  f<.Tvcnt  i^d  eloquent  preacher  while  acidng 
as  assiftant  to  Aibrcclit  z:im  Felde,  his  teacher  and  future 
fatber-in-latr,  Bemred  for  him  a  caH  to  a  theofe^eal  chair 
at  Helmstadt,  in  1723.  The  iHflifKtic^trm  ffitlarim  Eixte- 
fiaeticx  hbri  IV.  appeared  in  1726  (2  toIs.,  12mo),  and 
in  the  same  jear  he  -n-as  appointed  by  the  duke  of  Bruns- 
wick abbot  of  Marienthal,  to  which  dignity  and  eoMiIa- 
ment  the  abbacy  of  MichaehteiQ  xras  added  is  the  ft^lawing 
year.  Mo^Ltim  T-as  much  consulted  by  the  antfaoritieB 
tL.      "  !ver£Jty  of  GOttingen  was  being  formed; 

esj  to  do  trith  the  framing  of  the  statntes 

of    ■  ]    faciJty.  and  with  the  proviakms   for 

mail  Mdent  of  the  eodesiastaeal 

conn  "    .    :.  1726  a  pctsnise  to  resnaiB 

in  K:.. .■.;.:•.  _.  _!  -:,:.::  to  accept  the  call  to  the 
Georgia  Auguita  iTiiich  was  urgently  pressed  npon  birn^ 
tmtil  the  year  1747,  when  the  duke  of  Brunswick  at  last 
released  him  from  Us  obligation.  To  enhance  the  dignity 
he  already  possessed  as  a  learned  and  brilliant  theological 
professor  at  Guttinren.  a  new  oSce  was  specially  created 
for  him,  that  of  cl  :  h,  however,  proved  some- 

what bnrJaisome  alousy  of  tie  nobles  whom 

he  governed.     E-  lingen  on  9th  Septeaiber 


il  o  s 


863 

tad  gntdli 


*  ne  raaaase  abaat  fha  trade  of  Btsnh,  vlidi  was  f onaded  i>6>5, 
M  itaan  «■  lUt  poiBt  (Saint  llartia't  ediaon.  ii.  j».  SeS). 

'  *  n*  peeadiBr  iatetcat  wUil  Ite  aatlor  (Satat  Maiti^  S.  f.  SM) 
takea  ia  Oa  eaigia  of  tbe  Ebn  is  noea  aa  tot  oplaaed  ly  a*  «ar 
agaiait  tbeaa  «Aitb  caOed  tka  caapoa*  fv-->— -  IL  aKar&<*a  <ka 
East  in  tie  rear  «S7.  Ia  attar  nmmta  the  writer  feyhfa  fta  —at 
oamidete  indiSnM^  aa4  a«a  jgimaian  vitt  ngard  to  tie  aMe  af 
a&in  ia  tie  Wait. 

*  a.  Laagam,a.  a.  *  CL  la^ae,  (^ 


1 755.  shortly  after  the  eompletiaa  of  m 
improved  editioa  of  his  Clumk  Hularf. 

Yta  MaakeiBi'a  pSaoe  aa  aa  rnclraaitii  |1  hataiia,  an  «>fw 
HinoBT,  ToL  V.  p.  7SS.  b  fUa  JuiailMiiat  af  Etota^  m 
additiiai  to  the  rartfarfawaw  aaaat  ha  aniiiiillj  ■lalii^iil  UaZk 
BOnu  Orfrtaaaraai  aatfe  OaaitaatfaaBB  J^aaaa  Aauaarivii 
r-")  —"^^ — -jilt  mill  jam  "l<aa|aafwa<1  rhiaTTiliiMi. 
kaa  indcpeBdeat  tfcaa  La  Oar^  laaa  f^paisaa  Chaa  BeaaaalRV  tiba 
hiatoriaa  Xiaheia  ia  faSi,  ritiMal. »»— — *  aal  Bodoate.'  *»«■ 
rrwrtfal  wiiliagi^  ehiiailwiaed  I17  liaiaiai,  aad  oaad  aeas^ 
iai^ide  dyOafieaea  aa  JT.  r.  be  aafat  (ITMIi,  aad  iiiiiiiBlim 
oTlCoi^  a74I)aad1ha  tBwX^adaata'tbastkjraTSS).  U^ 
senaana  {EfOifi  teit»)  rrMj^rriWu  tUtptmtm  ia  Aoara,  aad  a 
iiiiiliiij  iifiljlli  aliii^  ja^ifiiii  lh<n>iaili<»  hihljl  aa  |i  iiiiiili  ■!  tt 
Oe  Gcnaaa  Soeieto'.  Tktc  a»  twa  Va^iA  tcdhm  at  Ika  far' 
Utit»,  Qat  dL  TtaAaa^  pnMiAwi  ia  ifc^aad  that  aT  Mariadc 
(1832),  which  ia  amda  aaoR  esaaeL  lh«  latter  waa  tsriaad  aad 
re-edited  by  Bead  ia  IMS.  AaE^QAtnadailaea«rihaik.&fcu 
Chriatianffrwai,  begfim  ia  U13  hj  Tidal,  wia  easaHefead  sdI  adifee^ 
by  Unrdodc  in  IB9I. 

MOSQUE  {JiaiC,  or  oore  faOj  Ua^U  Jdmi.  the  phec 
of  eongregatkmal  prayer).  Owing  to  the  almoet  eoaqileta 
ahsenoe  d  ritual  in  the  lf<»iJ<»»i»  woniiqs,  the  aMawa^  at 
least  in  its  eariier  foiau^  is  ome  of  the  aoplsst  of  aO  i» 
ligiooB  bmldii^i, — its  nomal  aneogan^  heing  aa  open 
oomt  {SaJkm)  samnmded  bj  s  eorered  doister  {limSm),  id 
theoeBtreof  vhidi  is  a  astern  for  Ae  ahfadiaBS  leqfBBtr 
before  prsTer  (JfUs'a)  ;*  the  side  of  Ae  nosqpM  wUch  it 
towards  lleccs  isonmpiffd  tijaroofed  binUiBg(Jliiir£rB), 
or  place  leaiaied  for  pnyei;  aonetJBies  seieeued  off  faga 
the  oonil^  hot  freqnentljr  quite  open  toa'sids  it.  la  &e 
ocBtre  of  this  mnrtnary  is  »  nidie  {UikrA  or  KMa) 
(having  the  direction  of  Meeea;  aad  hf  the  tide  of  the 
nidie  is  a  ioftjpalpit  (JAaabor).  Ia  fnot  of  the  pal^  is 
a  raised  ^atfonn  {fiaUxi)  &aas  wUch  certain  rThirfifics 
are  r'i^t'A^  and  near  it  one  or  Bote  seats  aad  betetna 
ootnhiiMid  faaavhidt  chiqitecsaf  the  Eonaaie  icad  to 
the  pgople. 

Minareto  {lUMU,  ast^  lUJkama)  woe  aot  h«lt 
dming  the  first  half-eentaiy  after  the  Flig^  hat  now  as 
a  rale  no  laaaqiM  is  without  at  least  aba.  IVaaithea|iper 
gslleiy  of  this  the  JUocdbiJaM  aanoanees  to  the  fudrfial 
the  times  for  pcayei; — fire  times  dming  ^  day,  and  twice 
at  night.  Blind  men  are  geaerslljr  aefeeted  far  this  offes, 
so  that  dief  may  not  oreriook  the  neigbbaming  toosea. 

Moat  moegpes  fasTe  eadowed'propertjr,  -wiaA  is  admi- 
nittered  hj  a  warden  (S4zui),  who  also  appasatstbe  imims 
aad  other  i^ciala.  The  larger  masques  have  two  imims : 
one  is  called  (in  Aiahia  aad  E^n>t)  the  KhttSk,  and  he 
pleaches  the  sermon  on  Fiidsjs  (the  Ifosiem  fiahhath) ; 
the  other,  the  BiStib,  reads  Oe  Kona,  aad  ledta-  Ae  five 
daOj  fojaa,  standing  dose  to  the  Jl^rA,  aad  Iea£ng 
the  congr^aliaa,  1^  repeat  the  pnfcn  wi&  Use,  aad 
doselj  follow  hb  postarea.  the  imtms  do  not  fotm  a 
priestly  sect;  Aey  geaerally  have  other  «WTiipatioa^  sach 
as  tfaAitng  in  a  ackool  or  ^"f^z  a  Aap,  and  may  at  any 
tia>e  be  dianissed  by  the  aaiJea,  ia  wUdh  case  they  hies 
the  title  of  imiaa.  Dooriceepecs  aad  attendaata  to  sweep 
the  floor,  trim  the  laaqi^  and  peiftam  other  fnisl  offeei^ 
are  attadied  to  eadi  mosqae^  in  mimben  vaiyiag  aeeotdi^g 
to  its  oie  aad  cadowmeat.  Iftwlias  wasaea,  as  a  lok^  aM 
expected  to  s^thctr  pcqren  at  hoBM^  but  ia  some  few 
monqnes  diey  are  admitted  to  one  part  spedaT.y  sereeacd 
off  tor  them.  This  is  Ae  ease  ia  the  mos^te  of  EStta 
Zaiaab  in  Cairo.  In  the  Ahai  moaqne  at  Jenimlem  there 
is  a  latticed  faaleaay  for  Ae  wtomea,  wtecaa  me  withoat 
being  viable  to  the  male  wonhippen  below. 

The  greatest  poasifale  ^dwidnnr  bott  of  material  aad 
mwimsmhy  is  often  lavished  oa  Os  baildiag  aad  its 


*  fa  ■iiiinaia  rnnaiiiiliii  bj  Tiala  ai  atbaa  1 
aaet  avaaa^  watca  ia  |aawidea  fraa  a  aaaaad  laak  wiA  fl^awff  jrt^ 
caBad  a  imma/ifft  aflar  tta  aeet  who  1       '      ' 
aaaaaaS  ta  waak  ia  a  alagaaat  taafc. 


864 


MOSQUE, 


3ttinf;5.  The  ivliolo  outside  is  frequently  decorated  with 
the  luoat  elaborate  surface-carving  in  stone  or  marble, — the 
(lavement  of  the  richest  marbles,  inlaid  in  intricate  patterns, 
the  walls  panelled  in  a  similar  way,  or  decorated  with 
the  most  minute  mosaics  of  glass,  mother-of-pearl,  agates 
and  other  costly  stones.  The  central  niche  and  the  pulpit 
•ire  of  special  magnificence ;  and,  if  the  latter  is  of  wood, 
it  is  often  covered  with  delicate  ivory  carvings,  and  inlay 
of  pearl  and  ebony.  Very  beautiful  surface-ornament, 
executed  in  hard  stucco,  and  enriched  with  gold  and  colours, 
Ls  used  to  decorate  arches,  wall  surfaces,  and  the  penden- 
tives  of  domes,  wliich  latter  generally  have  the  so-caUed 
"stalactite"  form  of  ornament — one  of  great  beauty  and 
complexity.  The  woodwork  of  doors,  screens,  and  ceilings 
is  frequently  very  gorgeous  with  carving,  inlay,  and  ela- 
borate painting ;  the  whole  of  the  doora  outside  are  often 
covered  with  very  delicate  pierced  and  embossed  work  in 
bronze,  or  more  rarely  iron.  Tiho  magnificent  tiles  from 
Persia,  Damascus,  and  Rhodes,  enamelled  in  brilliant  blue, 
green,  and  red,  on  a  white  ground,  are  often  used  to  cover 
the  walls.  Traceried  windows  in  pierced  marble  or  stucco 
work  often  occur ;  these  are  filled  with  brilliant  coloured 
glass,  -always  in  very  small  pieces,  forming  a  transparent 
mosaic  of  jewel-like  richness.'  Lamps  of  enamelled  glass, 
or  of  bronze  inlaid  with  silver,  were  once  common,  but  are 
now  rapidly  disappearing. 

Some  mosques,  especially  me  Karubin  mosque  at  Fez  in 
Morocco,  possess  a  collection  of  magnificent  illuminated 
SISS.,  chiefly  copies  of  the  Koran  and  other  religious  boolcs; 
ip  the  large  collection  at  Fez,  MSS.  of  Aristotle's  Natural 
Histori/,  with  the  works  of  Averroes  and  other  commenta- 
•ors,  exist  in  considerable  number ;  some  few  of  the  MSS. 
are  as  early  as  the  10th  century. 

Plans  of  Mosques. — Considerable  diversities  exist  in  the 
plan  and  arrangement  of  mosques  in  various  countries,  either 
because  the  iloslem  conquerors  adopted  to  some  extent 
the  existing  buildings  and  architecture  of  the  conquered 
people,  or  on  account  of  the  new  mosque  being  built  on  a 
site  already  cramped  by  surrounding  buildings.  The  first 
of  these  causes  influenced  to  some  extent  the  mosques  of 
India,  and  to  a  much  greater  extent  those  of  European 
Turkey.  The  second  cause,  the  cramped  site,  especially 
in  Cairo,  created  a  special  typo  of  plan.  Nevertheless, 
when  free  from  such  distui'bing  influences,  there  is  one 
normal  plan  adopted,  tt  least  in  early  times,  by  the  Mos- 
lems in  all  countries — from  India  to  Cordova,  and  from 
northern  Syria  to  Egypt.''  This  normal  plan  is  a  very 
simple  one,  and  is  the  natural  product  of  a  country  like 
Arabia,  unskilled  in  architecture,  where  land  was  worth 
but  little,  and  timber  very  scarce.     (See  fig.  1.)    ■ 

Though  not  the  earliest,  the  great  mosque  of  Cordova  is  the  most 
magniticent,  and  in  the  main  the  best  preserved,  of  this  typical 
form.'  It  was  begun  in  7S4-5  by  the  caliph  'Abd  al-Kahman  I. 
(Abderame)  and  completed  by  his  sou  Hisham  in  793-4  ;  though  it 
was  afterwards  enlarged,  and  then  to  some  extent  injured  by  addi- 
tions^the  work  of  the  Christians,  who  made  it  into  a  cathedral — 
yet  it  still  remains  but  little  altered,  except  by  the  loss  of  its  mag- 
nificent carved  and  inlaid  wood  celling  and  sumptuous  Mimbar. 
It  consists  (omitting  recent  additions)  of  hvo  main  parts,  a  largo 
cloistered  open  court,  with  at  one  side  a  covered  building  for 
prayer.  In  one  respect  only  it  dilfers  from  the  usual  plan  :  the 
open  court  is  generally  much  larger  than  the  roofed  space,  whereas 
at  Cordova  it  is  smaller.  For  the  sake  of  brevity  this  arrange- 
ment \vill,  in  the  rest  of  the  article,  bo  referred  to  as  the  *'  normal 
)ilan.*'  In  spite  of  neglect  and  alterations  this  mosque  is  still  one 
of  the  most  imposing  buildinga  in  the  world.     The  long  ranges  of 


«  See  Coste,  ArdiiUcture  .^rai«/h837-39  ;  Bourgoin,  Les  Arts 
Arabes,  1863;  Prisse  d'Avennes,  Art  Arabt,  1874-80;  ^ai  Tcxier, 
VArminie  et  la  Perse,  1842-62.  '     ■ 

•  The  great  mosque  of  Mecca  (y.e.)  is  nnlqne  in  plan. '  For  an 
•cconnt  of  the  mosque  of  Medina,  sec  Medina. 

'  CoBtreraa,  Arte  Arabi  en  Espalta,  1875  ;  AcademTi,  19th  Novcm- 
l»r  1881,  "  Mosque  of  Cordoba,"  by  J.  H.  MiddUton  yMon.  Aniui.  dt 
Xifana  \  and  Prtngey,  ilotquic  dt  Cordoiu,/ 


s.U\ez,  nineteen  from  cast  to  west  and  thirty-ono  from  north  to 
south — on  their  liiarble  columns  the  spoils  of  many  a  Greek  and 
Roman  temple — secni  to  stretch  almost  endlessly  in  every  direction, 
and  each  range  of  pillars  appears  to  lose  itself  in  the  gloom  of 
distance,  so  that  from  no  point  can  any  idea  be  formed  of  what  is 
the  real  size  of  the  whole  building.  The  side  towards  the  court 
was  quite  open,  and  all  over  the  court  orange-trees  were  planted 
at  regular  intervals,  continuing  the  lines  of  the  columns  within," 
and  set  at  the  same  distances  apart ;  so  that  aisles  of  orange-trees 
in  long  ranges  covered  the  open  space,  just  as  the  marble  columns 
did  within.  No  words  can  describe  tho  jewel-like  splendour  of  tha 
mosaics  in  the  sanctuary,  which  in  compUcated  Arabesque  patterns, 
mixed  with  elaborate  Cufic  inscnptions,  cover  tha  walls  and  even  ths 
arches,  which  cross  and  recross  each  ciher  in  tho  most  fanciful  and 
daring  way,  forming  a  sort  of  aisle  round  three  sides  of  the  sanctuary. 
There  is  documentary  evidence  to  show  that  these  glass  mosaics, 
though  of  thoroujjhly  Oriental  design,  are,  like  those  in  the  mosques 
of  Jerusalem  and  Damascus,  the  work  of  Chiistian  aitists  froia 
Byzantium. 

The  most  important  early  mosques  were  all  built  on  this  normal 
plan,  with  but  very  slight  variations.  Tho  following  are  some  of 
the  finest  examples  of  this  type  : — 

Mosque  of  'Amr,  Old  Cairo,  begun  in  642  A-D.,  but  much  en- 
larged at  the  end  of  the  7th  century,  and  afterwards  partly 
rebuilt  (see  fig.  1). 

Mosque  of  Sidi-'O.kba  at  Kairawan  in  Tunis,  latter  part  of  7th 
century. 

Mosque  of  Sidi-'Okba  near  Biikra  in  Algeria,  about  684. 

Mosque  of  Edris  at  Fez  in  Morocco,  end  of  8th  century. 

Great  mosque  of  Damascus,  708. 

Great  mosque  of  Cordova,  784-794  (described  above). 

Mosque  of  Ibn  Tulun,  Cairo,  879.' 

Mosque  of  Al-Azhar,  Cairo,  begun  about  970. 

Great  mosque  at  Old  Delhi,  1196-1235- 

Tho  first  of  these,  the  mosque  of  'Amr  (see  Costo,  Arehilectun 

ii  ii  -i  §  S   -i  11  H  it  ij  M  ;: 


Fio.  1.— Plan  of  Mosque  of 'Amr,  Old  Cairo. 


1.  S^bla.    2.  MIrabar.    3.  Tomb  of 'Amr.    4.  Dakki.    6.  Fountain  for  Ablu- 
tion. '  6,  0.  Rooms  btult  lator.    7.  Mlnarot.    6.  Latrines. 

yfralx),  is  now  in  a  partly  ruined  condition.  Its  east  wall  probably 
still  retains  some  of  the  ori^nal  work  of  'Amr,  who  in  642 
built  a  small  mosque  on  the  site  of  the  present  ono.  But  little 
remains  except  its  fine  antique  marble  columns  to  tell  of  its 
former  splendour  in  mosaic,  stucco  reliefs  enriched  with  painting, 
and  magnificent  inlaid  wood  ceilings  and  screens.  According  to 
Makr'i,  it  once  contained  1290  MSS.  of  the  Koran,  and  was 
lighu.-  by  18,000  lamps.  In  genera!  effect,  like  all  mosques  of 
tliis  simplo  and  extensive  plan,  it  is  very  stately,  from  th^Vast 
size  of  its  area,  and  its  great  number  of  closely-ranked  columns 
and  arches,  the  Utter  being  of  many  fovios — pointed,  s«micircula^ 


MOSQUE 


865 


and  horse-»ho«.  Kig.  1  gives  its  plan  as  a  good  typical  specimen 
of  tUia  normal  type  of  mosque. 

The  mosque  at  KairawAn,  Tunis,  said  to  have  been  founded  by 
•Okba  (see  supra,  -p.  567),  follows  the  normal  plan,  with  439  fine 
antique  marble  columns,  horse-shoe  arches,  some  pointed  and  others 
round,  and  flat  ceiling  of  dark  wood,  once  magnificently  painted. 
Its  sanctuary  is  ten  aisles  deep  by  seventeen  wide.  In  the  centre  of 
the  court  is  a  marble  fountain  over  the  sacred  well,  said  to  communi- 
cate with  the  spring  Zemzem  at  Mecca.  Its  minaret,  a  rather  later 
addition,  is  very  massive  and  stately ;  it  is  square,  in  three  stories, 
each  battlemented,  the  walls  battering  considerably.  The  sanctuary 
is  domed,  and  the  Mihr&b  is  decorated  with  magnificent  tiles. 
Adjoining  the  sanctuary  is  a  small  room  for  a  library. 

The  other  great  mosque  of  Sidi-'Olcba,  built  soon  after  his  death 
in  682,  and  containing  his  tomb,  is  in  Algeria  near  Biskra  ;  it 
much  resembles  the  Kairawan  mosque,  but  is  less  splendid,  some 
of  the  columns  being'  not  of  marble  but  of  .baked  clay  decorated 
with  painting. 

The  great  mosque  of  Fez,  about  the  same  date,  is  also  very  large 
and  magnificent,  with  Mimbar  and  Mihrdb  richly  ornamented  with 
minute  mosaics ;  it  has  also  a  fine  inlaid  and  painted  wood  ceiling, 
and  some  elaboratcIy-carved  doors.  It  still  possesses  a  fine  library. 
(See  Amici,  Journey  to  Fez,  1878.) 

The  great  mosque  of  Damascus  was  built  on  the  site  of  a 
Christian  basilica,  erected  by  Theodosiua  in  395-408.  From  636, 
when  the  Arabs  conquered  Damascus,  until  708  this  basilica 
was  used  jointly  both  by  the  Christians  and  the  Moslems.  The 
basilica  was  then  pulled  down,  and  the  present  mosque  built  by 
the  caliph  Walid.  It  has  the  normal  plan,  and  is  608  feet  by  320 
feet.  Its  sanctuary  is  only  three  aisles  deep  ;  it  has  a  central 
dome  on  the  south  or  Mecca  side,  and  on  the  east  and  west  a  large 
porch.  Samhiidi  records  that  one  of  the  conditions  of  peace  con- 
claded  between  the  Byzantine  emperor  and  WaUd  was  that  the 
emperor  should  fuTHish  a  certain  number  of  workers  in  mosaic 
for  the  decoration  of  the  mosques  at  Mecca,  Medina,  Jerusalem; 
and  Damascus. 

The  mosque  of  Ahmed  Ibn  Ttilun,  in  Cairo,  completed  in  879, 
has  the  normal  plan,  with  the  exceptional  addition  of  an  outer 
court,  or  wide  passage,  nmning  round  three  sides  of  the  rectangle, — 
probably  to  cut  it  off  completely  from  the  noise  of  the  surrounding 
atreeti.  It  is  built  of  brick,  coated  with  delicate  reliefs  in  stucco, 
once  enriched  with  painting.  The  Mihrdb  has  beautiful  mosaics, 
and  the  Mimbar  is  a  marvel  of  delicate  carving  and  inlay.     The 

fillars  and  arches  are  of  brick  enriched  with  elaborate  stucco-work. 
t  has  a  very  remarkable  minaret  on  the  west  side,  with  a  spiral 
external  staircase.  The  architect  was  a  Copt,  an  Egyptian  Chris- 
tian. It  is  perhaps  the  earliest  important  building  in  which  the 
pointed  arch  is  largely  used. 

The  mosque  Al-Azhar,  "The  Splendid,"  was  built  in  the  centre 
of  New  Cairo  about  970  and,  thongh  frequently  restored,  has 
in  the  main  been  little  altered.  It  is  on  the  normal  plan,  with 
ranges  of  pointed  and  slightly  horse-shoe  arches,  supported  on  more 
than  400  fine  antique  columns  of  marble  and  pbrphyry,  chiefly  from 
Roman  buildings.  Among  its  later  decorations  are  magnificent 
wall-coverings  of  the  most  beautiful  Persian  tiles.  It  has  a  special 
interest  in  being  the  chief  university  of  the  Moslem  world,  con- 
taining some  thousands  of  students  {mujdvnrin),  for  whom  certain 
parts  of  the  mosque  {Siwdk)  are  screened  ofi*,  according  to  the 
country  from  which  they  come.  Thus  special  parts  are  reserved 
for  natives  of  the  various  provinces  of  Egypt,  of  Morocco,  Syria, 
Arabia,  India,  Turkey,  &c.  Each  student  can,  if  he  is  too  poor 
to  hire  lodgings,  live,  eat,  and  sleep  in  the  mosque.  Each  has 
a  large  chest  in  which  to  keep  his  clothes  and  books ;  these  are 
piled  against  the  walla  to  a  height  of  seven  or  eight  feet.  The 
students  pay  no  fees,  but  the  richer  ones  give  presents  to  the 
lecturers,  who  ait  on  the  matting  in  various  parts  of  the  sanctuary 
or  cloister,  while  the  students  sit  round  each  lecturer  in  a  circle. 
The  usual  course  of  study  lasts  for  three  years,  I^hough  some 
students  remain  for  much  longer.  The  chief  of  the  lecturers,  called 
the  Sheikh  aUAshar,  receives  about  £100  a  year,  the  others  little 
or  nothing,  as  regular  pay.  The  Koran,  sacred  and  secular  law, 
logic,  poetry,  and  arithmetic,  with  some  medicine  and  geography, 
are  the  chief  subjects  of  study. 

Of  mosques  which  are  not  built  on  the  normal  plan  the  earliest 
and  most  important  are  the  two  in  the  Hardm  al-Sherlf  (High 
Sanctuary)  at  Jerusalem  (see  vol.  xiii.  p.  642). 

The  Kubbet  al-Sakhra  (Dome  of  the  Rock),  popularly,  butwrongly, 
called  the  "Mosqne  of  Omar,"  is  not,  strictly  speaking,  a  mosque 
at  all.  It  belongs  rather  to  the  class  of  "  shrines,  — ^generally  small 
square,  circular,  or  octagonal  buildings  erected  over  some  sacred 
spot  or  tomb.  It  is  a  very  beautiful  building,  with  high  central 
dome,  and  double  ambulatory  round  it, — the  outer  wall  being  octa- 

fonal,  and  the  dome,  with  the  pillars  that  carry  it,  circular  in  plan, 
t  is  decorated  in  a  very  sumptuous  way  by  inlay  of  rich  marbles 
and  very  splendid  glass  mosaics.  The  outer  wall  and  most  of  the 
internal  mosaics  are  later  than  the  dome  itself.  Its  windows  of 
motaiciike  stained  glass  are  very  beautiful,  and  are  almost  the  only 

10— ;i;j 


Moslem  example  of  the  use  of  lead  "  cames,"  instead  of  the  bits  of 
glass  being  fitted  into  marble  or  stucco  tracery  ;  this,  as  well  as  the 
glass  waU-mosaics,  was  probably  the  work  of  Bylantine  artificers.' 

The  mosque  within  the  same  enclosure,  called  Al-Aksd,  is  entirely 
roofed,  with  many  aisle.'i  and  columns,  having  no  open  court,  quite 
unlike  the  usual  arrangement  of  a  mosque. 

The  finest  and  largest  group  of  mosques  is  at  Cairo.  Many  of 
them  are  very  complicated  buildings,  with  no  resemblance  to  tlie 
normal  plan  before  described.  In  some  cases  a  hospital,  a  school,  a 
court  of  justice,  a  monastery,  or  very  frequently  a  tomb,  forms  part 
of  the  building,  and  causes  considerable  modifications  in  its  plan. 

The  finest  of  these  is  the  mosque  of  the  sultan  Hasan,  built 
between  1350  and  1359  (fig.  2),  a  good  specimen  of  a  mosque 
built  in  a  crowded  site 
with  a  wing  for  a  tomb. 
In  plan  it  is  cruciform, 
the  central  part  being 
open  to  the  sky  ;  the 
eastern  arm  of  the  cross 
is  the  sanctuary,  and 
farther  east  is  the  stately 
domed  tomb  of  the  sul- 
tan himself.  All  four 
arms  of  the  cross  are 
vaulted  in  stone  with  a 
plain  waggon  vault.  Its 
magnificententiance  en 
the  north;  with  an  en- 
ormously high  arch,  de- 
corated with  stalactite 
reliefs  in  stone,  is  set 
somewhat  askew  to  fol- 
low the  line  of  the  old 
street.  It  has  two  mi- 
narets, one  of  great 
height  and  grandeur. 

The  MuristAn  Kalaun 
is  a  combination  of 
hospital,  tomb,  and 
mosque, — an  enormous 
buildingcovering  a  very 
large  area.  It  was  built 
by  Sultan  Kalaun  at  the 
beginning  of  the  14th 
century;  his  tomb,  built 
1320,  which  forms  part 
of  this  great  building,  is  f'"-  '•— Plsn  "t  Mraq„e  of  Saltan  Hasao,  Cairo, 
a  massive  square  edifice  l,  2.  Main  entrance.  S.  Court  open  to  sky. 
with  a  very  grand  and  *.  S-  Fountains.  6,  6.  North  and  south  vaulted 
well-desianed  octaconal  '™''»«Pf'  (the  dotted  lines  show  the  curve  of  the 
^.Trn»  I?»  „.11  \n3li„.  ^aolt .  8,  6.  D.kka.  10.  Sanctuary.  11.  Mimbar. 
dome.  Its  waU-mosaics  12.  Klbla.  13.  Door  to  tomb.  14.  Domed  tomb- 
in  pearl  and  precious  chamber.  15.  Tomb  within  screen.  18.  Eibla. 
stones     are     unusually  ^^'  ^'^-  Minarets.    18,  IS,  20.  Various  entrances  to 

-n»/»i;A....»4-        17 -.  mosque.    21.  Small  rooms  connected  with  service 

magnificent.      Even  a  „,  ^e  mosque,    sa.  Sultan's  private  witnmM!^ 
bare  list  of  the  mosques 

of  Cairo  would  occupy  a  large  space  ;  they  are  over  four  hundred 
in  number,  and  are  mostly  remarlcable  for  some  beauty  in  design 
or  richness  in  their  ornament  and  materiaL 

The  mosque  of  Ibrahim  Agha  should  specially  be  noted  for  tho 
splendid  Persian  tiles  which  cover  the  east  wall  of  its  sanctuary  ; 
these  are  of  the  end  of  tho  16th  century,  and  are  unrivalled  in 
beauty  both  of  drawing  and  colour.  The  tiles  are  9  inches  square, 
and  work  into  large  designs  with  very  graceful  sweeping  curves  of 
foliage,  drawn  with  the  greatest  skill,  and  painted  in  the  most 
brilliant  yet  harmonious  colours — perfect  masterpieces  of  coloured 
detoration.     See  Mubal  Decobation. 

The  so-called  '* Tombs  of  the  Caliphs,"  really  tomb-mosques  of 
Egyptian  sultans,  are  a  large  group  of  very  fine  buildings,  less  tiian 
a  mile  nutsido  the  walls  of  Cairo.  Tho  largest  is  that  of  Sultan 
Barkiik,  with  a  superb  dome  and  two  stately  minarets.  In  addi- 
tion to  an  extensive  open  court,  it  has  on  each  side  of  the  sanctuary 
a  magnificent  tomb-chamber  containing  the  bodies  of  the  sultan 
himself,  who  died  in  1399,  and  various  members  of  his  family. 

The  most  beautiful  and  graceful  of  all  these  mosques  is  that  which 
contains  the  tomb  of  Sultan  K&it-Bey,  who  died  in  14,96  ;  its 
dome  is  entirely  covered  externally  with  beautiful  and  delicate 
reliefs  carved  in  stone.  Its  minaret  is  a  masterpiece  of  invention 
and  extreme  graca  of  outline,  combined  with  the  richest  and  moat 
exquisite  det^  ;  like  most  of  the  Cairo  mosques,  its  exterior  ia 
ornamented  by  bands  of  red  stone  alternating  with  the  yellow 
Mokattam  limestone.  Inside,  marble  inlaid  pavements  and  mosaic 
on  the  walls,  with  decorations  in  painted  stucco  and  wood  carved 
and  inlaid  give  extreme  splendour  to  the  building.  Fig.  3  gtvee 
its  plan  as  a  typical  example  of  the  combined  moeqne  and  tomb, 
— the  lattar  the  more  important     The  mosque  in«id«,th»  w«ll»  of 


»  fiee  Do  Vogue,  Xemnk  is  lirutaiem.  1864 ;  Teider.  -itU  IHunn,  U» 


866 


M  O  S  — M  O  S 


Cairo,  built  by  tbe  same  sultau,  is  also   very  beautiful,   and  re- 
markable  for   its  carvings  and  ^ 
mosaics. 

It  should  be  observed  that  the 
magnificent  mosques  of  Egypt, 
as  of  other  countries,  owe  little 
or  nothing  to  the  native  archi- 
tectural taientof  the  Arabs  them- 
selves. Their  own  buildings  at 
the  time  of  the  Prophet  were  of 
the  simplest  and  rudest  descrip- 
tion, but  they  were  always  ready 
to  make  use  of  the  architectural 
skill  and  constructive  power  of 
thepeople  they  conquered. 

The  earlier  buildings  of  Egypt 
are  mainly  the  product  of  Coptic 
and  Byzantine  skill,  while  rather 
later  the  art  of  Peraa,  both  in  its 
general  designs  and  details  of 
workmanship,  exercised  a  para- 
mount influence  over  the  whole 
Moslem  world.  Another  influ- 
ence must  not  be  forgotten,  that 
of  French  and  English  Gothic,  __ 

produced  by  the  buildings  erected  pj^  3  _jj^5q^,^.t^j„b  of  g^^jta^  giit. 
by  the  crusaders  dunng  their  oc-  Bey,  Cairo. 

cupation  of  Palestine.  One  of  the  ,  jj^j^  entrance.  2.  Lobby  and  cIs- 
Cairo  mosques,  that  of  Kalaun,  terns  for  ablution.  3.  Gr^t  minaret, 
possesses  a  fine  arched  doorway,  4.  Kibla.  fi.  Mimbar.  6.  Saltan's  tomb- 
Uken  from  a  Christian  church  f^-^^^  7.  The  tomb  within  a  screen, 
at  Acre— a  fine  specimen  of  Early 

English  work,  which  would  not  be  out  of  place  in  Salisbury  Cathe- 
dral. Moslem  translations  of  the  clustered  jamb-shafts  and  deep 
arch-mouldings  of  this  style  often  occur. 

The  rest  of  northern  Africa  contains  many  mosques  of  great  size 
and  splendour ;  among  these  the  most  important,  in  addition- to  those 
already  mentioned  as  having  the  normal  plan,  are— (1)  the  mosque- 
tomb  of'Abdallahb.  Wadib  in  Kairawan,  Tunis,  a  very  large  build- 
ing, cont.iining  several  courts  and  cloisters,  dating  from  the  saroe 
early  period  as  the  other  gi*eat  mosque  in  Kairawan  ;  its  minaret  is 
covered  outside  with  fine  blue  and  green  tiles  ;  (2)  the  gi-eat  mosqua 
of  Algiers,  10th  «entury  ;  and  (3)  that  ef  Tlemcen,  in  the  extreme 
west  of  Algeria,  built  in  the  middle  of  the  12th  century  ;  this  has  a 
very  splendid  pavement,  partly  composed  of  Algerian  onyx,  and  a 
beautiful  bronze  chandelier,  8  feet  in  diameter,  given  by  Sultan 
Yarmorak,  12  48-83. 

In  Spain,  at  Zahra  near  Cordova,  was  one  of  the  grandest  of 
the  early  mosques,  finished  in  911  :  but  nothing  of  it  now  exists. 
Several  churches  in  Spain  were  originally  built  as  mosques,  such  as 
S.  Cristo  do  la  Luz  at  Toledo,  a  small,  nearly  square  building, 
roofed  by  dome-like  vaulting  on  marble  pillars. 

In  Persia  but  little  now  remains  of  the  magnificent  early  niosques, 
built  with  such  splendour,  especially  during  the  reign  of  Hariin  al- 
lUshid.  At  Erzeroum  there  is  a  fine  mosque,  combined  with  tomb 
and  hospital,  almost  Early  Gothic  in  style,  dating  from  the  13th 
century.'  At  Tabriz  there  is  another  church-like  mosque,  evidently 
the  work  of  Byzantine  builders ;  according  to  Texier,  this  belongs  to  the 
16th  century,  but  it  is  probably  two  or  three  hundred  years  earlier. 
The  mosque  of  Houen,  near  Cresarea  in  Cilioia,  is  a  fine  largo 
rectangular  building,  covered  with  low  domes  on  square  piers.  It 
dates  from  the  second  half  of  the  12th  century. 

At  Tchekirghe  near  Broussa  is  a  very  remarkable  mosque — that 
of  Murad  I.,  built  in  the  13th  century,  almost  in  the  style  of  con- 
temporary Italian  Gothic.  Its  main  facade  bears  an  e.\traordinary 
resemblance  to  one  of  the  earlier  Sienese  palaces. 

The  later  capital  of  Persia— Ispahan — became  the  centre  of  the 
highest  development  of  the  Persian  arts  under  Shah  'Abbas  I., 
1585-1629  ;  to  this  period  belongs  the  splendid  mosque  called 
Ma^id  Shah,  a  strangely-planned  Duilding  of  great  size,  enriched 
in  the  most  sumptuous  way,  inside  and  out,  by  waU-coverings  of 
the  finest  Persian  enamellod  tiles.  The  mosque  of  Sultan  Hosein, 
built  as  late  as  1730,  preserves  much  of  the  old  beauty  of  design 
and  decoration. 

India  is  especially  rich  in  mosques  of  great  size  and  beauty.  The 
earlier  ones  are  muck  influenced  by  the  still  older  Hindu  architec- 
ture, and  some  of  the  larger  mosques  are  built  of  materials  from 
the  old  Jain  temples.  It  is  recorded  that  twenty-seven  Hindu 
temples  wore  destroyed  to  build  the  great  mosque  in  Old  Delhi, 
erected  1196  to  1235,  which  presents  a  curious  mixture  of  the 
semi  -  barbarous  Hindu  carved  work  with  the  more  refined  and 
graceful  decoration  of  the  Moslem  builders.  This  great  mosque  is 
on  the  normal  plan,  as  is  the  13th  century  mosque  at  Ajmir,  also 


'  See  Texier.  LArirUnit  cl  la  Peril,  1842-52  ;  Coste,  Monuments 
Modtrna  de  U>.  Perse,  1867  ;  Flandin  and  Costo,  Voyage  m  Perse, 
184S*e4. 


built  on  the  ruins  of  &  Hindu  temple.  A  whole  Tolome  would  not 
suffice  to  describe  the  magnificent  mosques  of  India,  euch  aa  those 
at  Ahmedabad,  Mandu,  Maldah,  Bijapur,  Fathipur,  and  countless 
others.  Tho  introduction  in  thfl  17th  «entury  of  Florentine  marble 
and  mosaic  workers  produced  a  new  and  very  splendid  style  of 
building,  of  which  the  "pearl  mosque"  and  the  Taj  Mehal  at  Agra 
are  the  linest  specimens. 

At  Srinagar  in  Kashmir  there  is  a  large  and  very  remarkable 
mosque  of  the  normal  plan,  constructed  entirely  of  wood  logs,  with 
numerous  pillars  of  deodar  pine  ;  it  was  built  by  Shah  Hamadan, 
and  is  an  extremely  picturesque  building.  (See  Cole,  Ancient  Build- 
ings in.  Kashmir,  1869.) 

In  Turkey  the  mosques  are  either  old  Christian  basilicas,  such 
as  S.  Sophia  and  S.  Saviour's  at  Constantinople,  and  tho  numerous 
fine  early  churches  of  Thessalonica  and  Trebizond,  or  else  are  mostly 
copies,  more  or  less  accurate,  of  Justinian's  splendid  church  of  S. 
Sophia,  a  building  which  seems  to  have  been  enthusiastically  ad- 
mired and  appreciated  by  the  Ottoman  conquerors.  The  mosque  of 
Solaiman  the  M.agnificent,  1550-1555,  is  the  finest  of  these  Turkish 
reproductions  of  S.  Sophia.  Another,  rather  less  close  a  copy,  ia 
the  mosque  of  Sultan  Ahmed,  1608.  None  of  this  latter  class  are 
of  course  earlier  than  the  middle  of  the  16th  century.' 

In  the  present  century  Mosfem  art  has  produced  but  little  of 
architectural  importance  The  great  mosque  of  Mohammed  Ali,  on 
the  citadel  of  Cairo,  is  the  work  of  a  German  architect,  and  thoagh 
built  of  rich  materials  is  of  small  artistic  value  or  interest ;  it  ia  a 
large  but  feebly  designed  building  of  the  S.  Sophia  type.  Unfor- 
tunately European  influence  seems  now  to  be  rapidly  destroying 
the  feeling  for  true  art  that  still  survives  among  Moslem  nations. 

liUrature. — In  addition  to  works  referred  to  above  see  Monumfnloi  Arguitee- 
(■jnicos  de  Esj^ana,  1859-S3  ;  Murphy,  Arabian  Antiquities  of  Spain,  1813  ;  Owen 
Jones,  AthAmbra,  18-12;  Antiguedades  Arahes  de  Espana,  1870  ;  Hay's  Views  in 
Cairo,  1840 ;  Roberts,  Boly  Land,  Egypt,  &c.,  18i2-9 ;  Hessemer,  ArabischM 
Bau-i^erzierungen,  1853;  Castellani,  Architettnra  OrientaU;  Launay  and  Mon- 
tani,  Architecture  Ottomane,  1873 ;  Salzenberg,  Alt-Chrislliehe  Bnudenkmait 
ron  ConBtantlnopei,  1854;  Lewis,  Iltvstratioits  of  Ccnstantinopte,  1837;  Chardio, 
Voyage  en  Perar,  1735;  FeTgaBsosi,  Architecture  of  lndia,&c.,  1876;  Colo.  Ancient 
Delhi.  (J.  H.  M.) 

MOSQUITO  (.sometimes  written  "  Mo-squita  "),  a  Spanish 
word  signifying  "  little  fly,"  is  a  name  popularly  applied 
to  certain  annoying  dipterous  insects,  and,  strictly  speaking, 
it  should  probably  be  used  only  for  species  of  Ciilicidac 
(and  for  the  genua  Culex  in  particular),  for  which  "gnat" 
is  the  English  synonym ;  but  in  many  countries  it  is  by, 
almost  common  consent  applied  to  all  small  dipterous  in- 
sects that  suck  human  blood,  and  therefore  includes  what 
we  know  as  "sand -flies,"  "midges,"  dx.,  of  the  genera 
Ceratopogim,  Simulium,  and  others.  By  Englishmen  a 
distinction  is  often  falsely  drawn  between  "  mosquito " 
and  "gnat,"  the  former  being  suppesed  to  represent  an 
insect  natiye  chiefly  of  hot  climates,  whereas  the  latter 
is  their  own  too-well-knowu  pest.  In  effect  the  terms  are 
really  synonymous,  and  any  ac'jual  difference  can  only  be 
specific.  In  very  hot  seasons  we  not  uncommonly  hear 
alarming  reports  of  mosquitoes  having  made  their  appear- 
ance in  London  and  elsewhere  in  the  British  Isles,  and 
means  whereby  they  were  imported  are  often  suggested, — 
the  real  facts  of  the  case  being  that  extra  heat  may  render 
the  native  species  more  annoying,  or  that  it  causes  a  bodily 
condition  in  which  their  bites  are  more  severely  felt.* 
The  "mosquitoes"  of  high  northern  latitudes  may  be 
species  both  of  Cnlex  and  Simiilium. 

Accounts  of  tho  numbers  of  these  insects  in  tropical 
countries  and  in  high  latitudes,  and  of  their  irritating 
attacks,  are  to  be  met  with — seldom  exaggerated — in  most 
books  of  travel.  Even  in  Britain  the  annoyance  caused 
by  gnats  is  very  great,  and  in  marshy  districts  often  unen- 
durable, especially  to  new-comers,  for  it  seems  probable  that 
the  insects  really  attack  a  visitor  more  furiously  than  they 
do  the  natives  of  the  district,  but,  on  the  other  hand,  the 
latter  may  bo  more  indifferent  to  their  assaults.  In  some 
subjects  even  the  "piping"  by  which  a  hungry  gnat 
announces  its  presence  has  most  distressiiig  effects.     In 


"  Texier  and  PuUau,  Byzantine  Churches,  1864  ;  Pulgher,  Jiglisu 
de  Constantinople,  1882. 

'  A  few  years  ago  a  London  hotel,  popular  with  Araeric'.n  nsitora, 
was  said  to  harbour  mosquitoes,  which  some  of  the  visitors  had  brought 
with  them  from  the  Southern  States.  An  examinatiou  revealed  the  fac4 
that  the  cistern  was  uncovered  and  exposed,  and  was  the  breeding-place 
for  hosts  of  gnatt. 


M  O  S  — AI  O  S 


867 


Ugh  latitudes  they  are  driven  off  hj  anointing  the  body 
with  fish-oil ;  and  in  hot  climatea  "  mosquito  curtains  "  are 
part  of  the  ordinary  bed-furniture.  It  is  only  the  female 
that  bites ;  and,  as  it  is  but  a  very  small  proportion  of  them 
that  can  ever  taste  human  blood  or  that  of  any  warm-blooded 
animal,  blood  would  not  appear  to  be  essential  to  their  ^1- 
fare.  It  has  been  suggested  that  warm  blood  may  have 
an  influence  on  the  ova,  but  it  cannot  be  supposed  that 
the  eggs  of  those  multitudes  of  individuab  that  never  get  a 
chance  to  taste  blood  are  necessarily  infertile ;  everything 
tends  to  prove  the  opposite. 

Of  late  mosquitoes  have  been  accused  of  playing  a 
hitherto  unsuspected  part  in  the  dissemination  of  certain 
entozoic  diseases.  According  to  the  researches  of  Drs 
Manson  and  Cobbold  and  others,  it  appears  certain  that 
the  insects,  in  sucking  the  blood  of  persons  who  are  hosts 
of  the  entozoon  known  as  Filaria  sanguis-hominis,  take 
these  parasites  into  their  own  system,  and  it  is  believed 
that  they  afterwards  (by  their  death  and  otherwise)  con- 
taminate drinking  water  with  them,  and  thus  convey  the 
entozoa  into  the  blood  of  persons  previously  unaffected. 

Mosquitoes  are  aqoatic  in  their  early  stages.     The 


no.  1.— Moxjolto  (C«I«).    A,  Mtnral  tiie ;  B,  enlirged.    (Atttr  Curtis.) 

female  deposits  her  eggs  in  boat-shaped  masses  on  the 
surface  of  the  water.  The  larvae  are  very  active,  and  have 
a  peculiar  jerking  mo-  ^ 
tion  ;  the  last  segment 
is  furnished  with  a 
respiratory  apparatus, 
the  form  of  which  pro- 
bably varies  according 
to  the  species,  but  it 
is  usually  a  long  tube, 
the  extremity  of  which 
can  be  exposed  to  the 
external  air.  Thepup^e 
are  also  active  (contrary  to  the  condition  in  most  dipterous 
pupae),  and  are  odd-looking  creatures  owing  to  the  great 
development  of  the  thoracic  region ;  the  respiratory  ap- 
paratus is  in  the  thorax  in  this  state,  the  extremity  of  the 
body  having  two  swimming-plates ;  the  pupae  do  not  eat, 
but  their  activity  is  very  great. 

No  notice  of  tlie  mosquito  or  gnat  ivouid  be  complete  without  an 
explanation  of  tho  mouth-parts  by%hich  it  is  enabled  to  cause 
such  extreme  irritation.  When  these  parts  are  closed  one  upon 
the  other  the  whole  looks  like  a  long  proboscis  ;  but  in  reality  this 

consists  of  seven  distinct  slender  pieces  separated  to  the  base,  viz. 

tho  labium,  two  maxill.-e,  hvo  mandibles,  tho  lingua,  and  the 
labrum.  The  nomenclature  of  the  mouth-parts  varies  with  different 
•othors.  O.  Dimmock  (Anatomy  of  the  Mouth-parts  aiui  of  the 
SuckUy-apparalus  of  some  Dijitera),  tho  latest  investigator  of  this 
complex  apparatus,  states  that  the  labium  has  for  function,  for  tho 
most  part,  tho  protection  of  the  fine  setse  which  form  the  true 
piercing  organ  of  Ciilcx.  In  the  female  .of  Ciilcx  the  protective 
sheath  is  formed  by  the  labium  alone.  When  the  mosquito  has 
found  a  place  which  suits  it  for  piercing— for  it  often  tiics  different 
places  on  our  skin  before  deciding  on  one— it  plants  its  labellx 
tirmly  unon  the  spot,  and  a  moment  later  tho  labium  is  seen  to  be 


flexing  backwards  in  its  middle  ;  the  seta,  fi'mly  grouped  together, 
remain  straight  and  enter  tho  skin.  MThen  the  seta  have  entered 
to  nearly  their  full  length,  the  labium  is  bent  double  beneath  the 
body  of  the  insect.  When  the  mosquito  wishes  to  withdraw  the 
seta  it  probably  first  withdraws  the  two  barbed  maiiUa!  beyond 
the  other  setse,  that  is,  so  that  their  barbs  or  papillae  will  be  kept 
out  of  action  by  the  mandibles  and  hypopharynx  ;  then  it  readily 
withdraws  the  sets,  perhaps  aiding  their  withdrawal  by  the  musclu 
mgiV,.-;;..i-.ii.'!;'fin.T. 


Pio.  3.— Mouth-parts,  &c.,  of  remade  Cultx  (after  Dimmock).  a,  antennc' 
e,  olypeus  ;  ft,  hypopharynx  ;  Ir-e,  labrum  -  epipharynx  ;  t,  labium  •  ml 
mandibles ;  nu,  nmxillse  (with  the  tip  of  one  of  them  eiilarged).  ' 

of  the  labium,  for  during  the  process  of  extracting  tho  seta  from 
the  skin,  while  they  are  slowly  sinking  back  into  the  groove  upon 
the  upper  side  of  tho  straightening  labium,  the  mosquito  keeps 
the  labellse  pressed  firmly  upon  the  skin.  The  withdrawal  of 
blood  is  effected  by  means  of  a  pumping  apparatus  at  the  base 
of  the  mouth  -  parts.  As  no  investigator  appears  to  have  been 
able  to  detect  a  poison  gland,  it  has  been  considered  that  the  irri- 
tation caused  by  the  bite  of  a  mosquito  was  solelyof  mechanical 
origin  ;  but  the  extreme  irritation  and  its  duration  have  not  caused 
this  idea  to  be  commonly  accepted.  Dimmock  avows  his  belief 
that  there  is  use  made  of  a  poisonous  saliva.     In  the  male  of  Culex 

the  mouth -parts  vary  considerably  from  those  of  ttie  female, a 

conspicuous  point  of  difference  being  that  in  this  se-  the  mandibles 
are  absent,  and  the  maxilli£  are  not  barbed. 

About  35  species  of  Culex  (mosquito  or  gnat)  have  oeen  described 
as  inhabiting  Europe,  and  about  130  from  the  rest  of  the  world, 
but  their  differentiation  is  involved  in  great  difficulty  and  uncer- 
tainty, and  it  is  probable  that  the  number  of  true  species  may  bo 
very  much  less.  A  species  from  Cuba  has  received  the  name  Culex 
■nwsquito  ;  but  there  is  not  one  species  that  specially  deserves  tho 
name  more  than  another  fi-om  a  popular  point  of  view,  nor  from  a 
scientific  point  of  view  is  there  any  difference  between  a  mosquito 
and  a  gnat. 

MOSQUITO  COAST.     See  Nicaeagua. 

MOSSES,  or  Musci,  one  of  the  two  divisions  of  the 
botanical  class  Miisciness,  which  includes  also  the  Liver- 
worts or  Hepaticse.     See  MuscinEjE. 

MOSSLEY,  a  manufacturing  town  of  Lancashire, 
England,  is  situated  on  the  London  and  Norti-Western 
Railway  and  on  the  Huddersfield  canal,  near  the  west  bank 
of  the  Tame,  which  here  separates  Lancashire  from 
Cheshire,  3  miles  north-east  of  Ashton-under-Lyne,  and  10 
east-north-east  of  Manchester.  The  houses  are  for  the 
most  part  built  of  stone.  To  supersede  the  old  church  of  St 
George,  erected  in  1757,  a  new  btiilding  was  begun  in  1881. 
A  mechanics'  institute  was  erected  in  1 858.  In  the  vicinity 
of  the  town  is  an  eminence  called  Hartshead  Pike,  on  which 
is  a  lofty  circular  tower  surmounted  by  a  spire  rebuilt  of 
stone  in  1758.  Mossley  has  risen  into  importance  since 
the  introduction  of  the  cotton  manufacture  about  fifty 
years  ago.  A  fair  is  held  annually.  The  town  was  placed 
under  the  Local  Government  Act  in  1864,  the  district  to 
which  its  provisions  extend  including  also  part  of  Saddle- 
worth  in  Yorkshire.  The  total  population  was  in  1871 
10,578,  and  13,372  in  1881. 

MOSTAK,  the  chief  town  of  Herzegovina,  is  built  on 
both  banks  of  the  Narenta,  about  35  miles  from  its  mouth, 
and  40  miles  south-west  of  Seraievo  (Bosna  Serai),  the 
capital  of  Bosnia.  Among  the  public  /  buildings  are  a 
palace,  two  Greek  churches,  and  forty  mosques,  in  several 
cases  with  Roman  or  Byzantine  tracery  in  their  windows. 
The  fine  old  bridge  from  which  the  town  takes  its  name 


868 


M  O  S  — M  O  S 


{Most,  Star,  Old  Bridge)  is  probably  Roman.  The  town 
has  a  good  trado  and  manufactures  excellent  Damascus 
swords  ;  and  the  grapes  and  wine  of  Mostar  are  celebrated 
throughout  tha  south  Slavonic  countries.  The  population, 
7300  in  1844.  had  increased  to  10,848  by  1879. 

Whether  its  ancient  name  waa  Saloniana,  Sarsenterum,  or  An- 
dretium,  there  is  little  doubt  that  -Mostar,  or,  to  use  the  older 
Slavonic  name,  Vitriniteha,  dates  from  the  time  of  the  Romans.  It 
was  enlar^red  in  1440  by  Radivoi  Gost,  mayor  of  the  palace  to 
Stephen,  hrst  duke  of  St  Sava.  Immediately  on  their  conquest  of 
Herzegovina  it  was  chosen  by  the  Turks  as  their  headquarters  ;  and 
it  afterwards  tecame  the  capital  of  the  independent  government  of 
Ali  Pasha  and  Stolac. 

See  Evans,  Through  Bosnia  and  fferzegovina,  1S76 ;  Wilkinson's  DalTnatia  and 
MonUneffTo,  vol.  li.  (view  and  plan  at  pp.  69-60) ;  and  Calx  de  Baint  Aymoor  in 
RiV.  dts  D.  Moiwcs,  February  18S3. 

MOSUL,  an  important  town  in  Mesopotamia,  on  the 
right  bank  of  the  Tigris,  in  36'  35'  N.  lat.  and  43°  3'  E.  long. 
In  Mosul,  as  in  Baghdad,  only  part  of  the  space  within 
the  walls  is  covered  with  buildings  and  the  rest  is  occupied 
by  cemeteries ;  even  the  solid  limestone  walls  of  the  ancient 
town  are  half  in  ruins,  being  serviceable  only  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  river,  where  they  check  inundations.  Of  the 
town  gates  at  present  in  use,  five  are  on  the  south,  two  on 
the  west,  two  on  the  north,  and  the  great  bridge  gate  on  the 
east.  Leaving  Mosul  by  the  last  named,  the  traveller  first 
crosses  a  stone  bridge,  167  feet  long ;  then  a  kind  oi  island 
(140  feet),  which  is  overflowed  only  in  spring  and  summer 
by  the  Tigris ;  nest  a  stretch  of  the  river  which,  at  such 
tunes  as  it  is  not  fordable,  is  spanned  by  a  bridge  of  boats, 
the  bridge  proper  covering  only  one-sixth  of  the  full  width 
of  the  stream.  During  the  season  of  low  water  excellent 
vegetables,  particularly  water-melons,  are  grown  upon  the 
islands  and  dry  portions  of  the  river-bed. 

The  interior  of  Mosul  has  an  insignificant  appearance,  only  a  few 
of  the  older  buildings  being  left,  amon^  which  may  be  mentioned 
the  Great  Mosque,  with  its  leaning  minaret,  formerly  a  church 
dedicated  to  St.  Paul.  The  private  houses  are  partly  of  brick  and 
partly  of  stone,  the  district  furnishing  an  excellent  and  easily- 
wrought  building-stone  resembling  marble.  Handsome  well-buUt 
halls  {iw(.iis)  may  be  seen  in  many  houses ;  the  undergronnd 
dwellings  also,  to'which  the  inhabitants  retire  during  the  day-time 
in  the  hot  months  of  summer,  are  well  and  solidly  built.  The 
houses  are  high^  and  during  three  or  four  months  of  the  year  the 
inhabitants  sleep  on  the  flat  roofs.  The  streets  are  for  the  most 
part  badly  pa\ed  and  very  narrow,  a  small  square  in  the  market- 
place, overlooked  by  airy  cofl"ee -booths,  being  almost  the  only  open 
space.  The  shops  are  few  and  poor.  The  industry,  in  comparison 
■with  former  times,  when  the  toi^ii  had  so  considerable  a  manufac- 
ture in  "  musl:ji  *'  as  to  give  its  name  to  that  fabric,  is  V^ery  unim- 
portant ;  trade  also,  which  is  almost  exclusively  in  the  hands  of 
native  merchants,  has  fallen  off  greatly.  Gall  nuts^-  gathered  on 
the  neighbouring  Kurdish  mountain  slopes,  are  mostly  exported, 
but  are  also  made  use  of  by  native  dyers  ;  and  hides,  wax,  cotton, 
and  gum  are  sold.  Very  few  Europeans  live  in  Mosul,  though  the 
market  is  abundantly  supplied  with  European  goods.  The  whole- 
sale trade,  conoucted  by  means  of  caravans,  has  greatly  declined 
from  its  former  importance,  owing  not  only  to  changes  wMct  have 
been  taking  plate  in  commercial  routes  generally,  but  also  to  the 
dangers  of  the  roads  near  Mosul ;  for  to  the  north  and  east  of  the 
town  there  are  wild  tribes  of  Kurds,  some  of  whom  continue  to 


assert  their  independence  of  the  Osmanli  rule,  while  the  Yezidis, 
a  Kurdish  tribe  who  have  never  yet  accepted  Islam,  dwell  in  the 
Siujar  mountains,  Upon  a  northern  spur  of  which  the  town  stands. 
Serni-independent  tribes  of  Bedouins  al^io  roam  over  the  plains  in 
the  immediate  vicinity.  The  wild  hordes  of  the  Sharamar  Bedouins 
have  often  plundered  or  threatened  the  citizens.  Mosul,  therefore, 
has  a  somewhat  isolated  position,  and  this  perhaps  is  one  reason 
why  Christians  and  Moslems  have  lived  together  on  better  terms 
here  than  elsewhere.^  Both  are  animated  by  an  active  local  patriot- 
ism, and  both  honour  the  same  patron  saints,  Jirjis  (St  George) 
and  Jonah  ;  the  grave  of  the  latter  is  pointed  out  on  an  artificial 
mound  on  the  left  bank  of  the  Tigris. 

The  language  of  the  people  of  Mosul  is  a  dialect  of  Arabic,  partly 
influenced  by  Kurdish  and  Syriac.  The  population  is  probably 
25,000  to  30,000.  It  is  stated  that  the  town  is  divided  into  32 
quarters,  of  which  one  is  Je^-ish  and  three  are  Christian,  while  the 
rest  are  Moslem.  The  Moslems  call  themselves  either  Arabs  or 
iCurds,  but  the  prevalent  type,  very  different  from  the  true  Arabian 
of  Baghdad,  proves  the  Aramsean  origin  of  many  of  their  number. 
Of  the  Christians  the  community  of  the  Chaldfeans,  -i.e.,  those  who 
have  gone  over  from  Nestorianism  to  Catholicism,  seems  to  be  the 
most  important ;  there  are  also  Syrian  Catholics  and  Jacobites. 
Mosul  has  for  several  centuries  been  a  centre  of  Catholic  missionary 
activity,  the  Dominicans  especially,  by  the  foundation  of  schools 
and  printing-offices,  having  made  a  marked  impression  upon  an 
intelligent  and  teachable  population.  There  are  very  few  Protest- 
ants. 

Mosul  shares  the  severe  alternations  of  temperature  experienced 
by  Upper  Mesopotamia  (see  Mesopotamia).  The  summer  heat  is 
extreme,  and  in  winter  frost  is  not  unknown.  Nevertheless  the 
climate  is  considered  healthy  and  agreeable  ;  copious  rains  fall  in 
general  in  winter.  The  drinking  water  is  got  from  the  muddy 
Tigris.  At  the  north-east  comer  of  the  town  is  a  sulphur  spring, 
and  4  leagues  to  the  south  there  is  a  hot  sulphur  spring  (Hammam 
'Ali),  much  frequented  by  invaUds. 

Mosul  probably  occupies  the  site  of  a  southern  suburb  of  ancient 
Nineveh  (?.«.),  but  it  is  very  doubtful  whether  the  older  name  of 
Mespila  can  be  traced  in  the  modem  Al-Mausil  (Arab.,  the  place  of 
connexion);  it  is,  however,  certain  that  a  to\vn  with  the  Arabic  name 
Al-Mausil  stood  here  at  the  time  of  the  Moslem  conquest  (636  A.n.). 
The  town  reached  its  greatest  prosperity  towards  the  beginning  of 
the  decline  of  the  caliphate,  when  it  was  for  a  time  an  independent 
capital.  The  dynasty  of  the  Hamdanids  reigned  in  Mosul  from  934, 
but  the  town  was  conquered  by  the  Syrian  Okailids  in  990.  In  the 
11th  century  it  belonged  to  the  Seljuks,  and  in  the  12th,  under  the 
sway  of  the  Atabeks,  particularly  of  Zenki,  it  hhd  a  short  period  of 
splendour.  Saladin  besieged  it  unsuccessfiilly  in  1182.  Among 
the  later  rulers  of  Mosul  the  only  conspicuous  name  is  that  of  Lula, 
in  the  first  half  of  the  13th  century.  The  town  suffered  severely 
from  the  Mongols  under  Hulagu  ;  under  Turkish  rule  it  became  the 
capital  of  a  small  pashalik,  bounded  on  the  one  side  by  the  vilayet 
of  Diarbekr,  on  the  other  by  that  of  Baghdad.  The  Persians 
occupied  Mosul  for  a  short  rime  in  1623,  until  it  was,  soon  after- 
waros,  recovered  by  Sultan  Murad  IV.  It  was  visited  by  an  earth- 
quake in  1667,  and  was  unsuccessfully  besieged  by  the  Persians  imder 
Nadir  Shah  in  1743.  The  governorship  of  the  pashalik  was  long 
hereditary  in  the  originally  Christian  family  of  the  'Abd-al-Jalil, 
until  the  Porte,  during  the  course  of  the  present  century,  succeeded 
after  a  long  and  severe  contest  in  establishing  a  more  centralized 
system  of  government. 

Compared  with  what  it  was  in  the  Middle  Ages  the  present  town 
is  mucn  deteriorated,  its  decay  having  advanced  steadily  from  the 
beginning  of  the  Turkish  dominion. 

See  Rltter,  Asien,  voL  vii  A  map  of  the  town  accompanies  Cernik'a  pap«r, 
"  Stadiencrpedition  durcb  die  Ocbiete  dc3  Euphrat  ttnd  Tigris,"  In  Ergiuuuiige' 
hflft  No.  45  of  PerarTTWim'j  i/iri/ieiUnffen,  1970. 


END  OF  VOUJME  SDCEEENTH. 


i 


APPENDIX 


AMERICAN  REVISIONS  AND  ADDITIONS 


ENCYCLOPAEDIA  BRITANNICA 

{NINTH  EDITION.) 


A  DICTIONARY  OF 

ARTS,  SCIENCES  AND  GENERAL  LITERATURE 


CHICAGO 

R  S.  PEALE    COMPANY 

1891 


0r  K.  &  PojULf  A:C«k. 


MEMPHIS  —  MEREDITH 


1071 


the  Confederate  government  was  formed,  he  be- 
came secretary  of  the  treasury,  and  held  this  post 
until  1864.  After  the  civil  war  he  lived  in  retire- 
ment. 

MEMPHIS,  a  post-village,  the  county-seat  of 
Scotland  county,  Mo.,  containing  flour-mills. 

MEMPHIS,  a  city  of  Tennessee,  the  commercial 
!:n»tropolis  of  West  Tennessee,  and  the  most  im- 
portant commercial  city  l)etween  St.  Louis  and  New 
Orleans.     In  addition  to  the  facilities  afforded  by 
the  Mississippi  River,  on  which  it   is  situated,  nu- 
merous lines  of  railroads  bring  the  products  of  a 
large  section  of  country  to  its  wharves.    The  city  is   ' 
handsomely  built  on  a  bluflf  overlooking  the  river. 
It  is  one  of  the  most  extensive  cotton  markets  of   I 
the  country,  the  shipments  of  cotton  amounting  to   ; 
over  400,000  bales  per  annum.    The  principal  man- 
ufactures are  iron,  iron-goods,  cotton-seed  oil,  lum- 
ber, tobacco,  farm-machinery,  etc.    Memphis  has  a 
number  of  excellent  public  and  private    schools   i 
and  seminaries.     Population  in  18^0,3.3,592;  in  1890, 
<>1.586.    See  Britannica,  Vol.  XV,  pp.  847,  848.  I 

>LEXABRE.\,  LfiGi  Federico,  M.^rqcis  Vali.- 
DoE.t,  an  Italian  statesman,  born  at  Chambery, 
France,  in  1S(W.  He  was  professor  of  engineering 
in  the  military  academy  at  Turin.  Afterwards  he 
served  in  the  Italian  ministry  of  war  and  of  the 
interior.  In  the  war  against  Austria  in  1859  he 
was  chief  of  staff,  and  fortified  Bologna  and  other 
cities,  and  conducted  the  siege  of  Gaeta.  In  1861 
he  was  made  count  and  appointed  minister  of  the 
marine,  and  in  1867  he  was  minister  of  foreign 
affairs.  In  1875  he  was  created  Marquis  of  Vall- 
Dora,  and  in  1876  he  served  as  ambassador  to  t 
England.  He  is  an  accomplished  mathematician 
and  engineer,  and  has  published  Le  Genie  Italien 
dan>  hi  Compn.v.e  1S60-S1  0866). 

MEXAGERIE,  see  Zoological  Gabdes  in  these 
Revisions  and  Additions. 

MEXASHA,  a  city  and  railroad  center  of  Winne- 
bago county.  Wis.,  eighteen  miles  north  of  Osh- 
kosh.  It  has  a  number  of  manufactories.  Popula- 
tion, 4.-569. 

MEXDE,  the  capital  of  the  French  department 
of  Lozere,  on   the  Lot,  in  a  valley  surrounded  by 
high  hills,  sixty-six  miles  from  Ximes.  has  a  cathe- 
dral, and  manufactures  serges   and  coarse  cloths.   I 
Population.  6.740.    See  Britannica,  Vol.  XV,  p.  31.   j 

MEXDELEEFF.  Dmitri  Ivaxovitch,  a  Russian   j 
chemist,  born  at  Tobolsk,  Feb,  7. 18.34,  studied  at 
St.  Petersburg,  and,  after  having  taught  at  Simfer- 
opol, Odessa,  and  St.  Petersburg,  became  professor 
of  chemistry  in  the  University  of  St.  Petersburg  in   i 
1866.      He  has  enriched  every  section  of  chemical   ; 
science,  but  is  especially  distinguished  for  his  con- 
tributions to  physical  chemistry  and  chemical  phil- 
osophv. 

MEXDOTA,  a  city  of  La  Salle  county.  111.,  con- 
taining an  organ-factory  and  iron-foundry. 

MEXIER.  EjiiLE  .IrsTix, a  French  manufacturer 
.md  writer,  born  at  Paris,  May,  18,  1826.  died  at 
Xoisiel-sur-Marne,  February  17,  1881.  He  estab- 
lished at  Xoisiel  the  celebrated  chocolate  factory, 
chemical  works  at  St.  Denis,  and  a  sugar  manufac- 
tory at  Koye,  besides  a  caoutchouc  factory,  and  in 
Xicaragua  a  cocoa  plantation.  A  warm  advocate 
of  free  trade,  he  expounded  his  views  in  Economie 
Rt.ray  and  in  L'Avenir  JEeonomiquf. 

MEXIPPUS,  a  satirist  who  lived  in  the  first  half 
of  the  3rd  century,  b.  c,  was  born  a  Phoenician 
slave  and  became  a  cynic  philosopher.  His  works 
in  Greek  have  perished,  and  he  is  known  only 
through  the  imitations  of  JIarcus  Tarentins  Varro. 
See  Britannica.  Vol.  XXIV,  p.  93;  Vol.  IX,  p.  655. 

MEXOMIXEE,  a  city,  the  county-seat  of  Menom- 
inee county,  Mich.,  situated  on  Green  Bay,  at  the 


mouth  of  the  Menominee  River.  Iron-mining, 
marble-quarrying,  and  lumber-shipping  are  the 
chief  industries.    Population  in  1890,  10,606. 

MEXOMOXIE,  a  city,  the  county-seat  of  Dunn 
county.  Wis.,  about  twenty-five  miles  northwest  of 
Eau  Claire.  It  is  extensively  engaged  in  tlie  fur- 
trade,  has  manufactories  of  iron,  machinery,  car- 
riages, sash  and  blinds,  and  enjoys  excellent  edu- 
cational facilities. 

MEXZEL,  Adolph,  a  German  painter,  lithograph- 
er, illustrator,  and  engraver,  born  at  Breslau,  Dec. 
8, 1815.  He  is  best  known  for  his  drawings  and  oil- 
paintings  illustrative  of  the  times  of  Frederick  the 
Great  and  William  I.,  emperor — pictures  charac- 
terized by  historical  fidelity,  strong  realistic  con- 
ception, originality,  and  humor.  His  Adam  and 
J-^ie;  Christ  Among  the  Doctors,  and  Christ  Expelling 
the  Moneti-changers,  are  also  notable  pictures. 

MEPPEL,  a  town  in  the  Netherlands  province  of 
Drenth^,  eighteen  miles  from  ZwoUe.  It  has  a  trade 
in  butter  and  linen  manufactures.  Population, 
8,418. 

MERCADAXTE,  Savekio  {1797-18701.  an  Italian 
composer,  born  at  Altamura,  June  Ci,  :''  7, . ,,.,.. ?d 
music  at  Naples,  and  began  his  career  as  a  violin- 
ist and  flutist.  In  ISlS'  he  produce*'  the  first  of 
some  sixty  operas.  From  1827  to  l''ji  he  was  in 
Spain ;  in  1S.S3  he  was  appointed  musical  director 
in  the  cathedral  at  Xovara,  and  in  1840  of  the  con- 
servatorv  of  music  at  Xaples.  He  died  in  that  city 
Dec.  17, 1870— blind  since  1861. 

3LERCED.  a  city,  the  county-seat  of  Merced 
county,  Cal.,  on  the  Central  Pacific  Railroad,  152 
miles  southeast  of  San  Francisco. 

MERCER,  a  post-borough,  the  county-seat  of 
Mercer  county.  Pa.,  sixty  miles  northwest"  of  Pitts- 
burgh.    Population,  2,134. 

MERCER,  Charles  Fe.nto.v  (1778-1856),  an  Amer- 
ican soldier.  In  1798  he  was  commissioned  captain 
in  the  L'nited  States  army,  but  subsequently  prac- 
ticed law  in  Fredericksburg,  Va.  Froni  1810  to  1817 
he  was  a  member  of  the  legislature,  and  then  until 
1840  was  a  member  of  Congress.  During  the  war  of 
1812  he  was  aide  to  the  governor  of  Virginia,  and  in 
command  of  the  defenses  at  Xorfolk. 

MERCER,  High  (1720-1777).  an  American  sol- 
dier. He  served  in  the  French  and  Indian  war  of 
1755,  and  in  1758  was  made  a  lieutenant-colonel.  In 
1776  he  was  appointed  colonel  of  the  3rd  Virginia 
regiment,  and  the  following  year  was  chosen  by 
Congress  brigadier-general.  He  was  mortally 
wounded  in  the  night  march  on  Princeton  in  which 
he  commanded  the  advance. 

MERCERSBURG,  a  post-borough  of  Franklin 
county.  Pa.,  ten  miles  northwest  of  Greencastle.  It 
contains  Mercersburg  College,  and  was  formerly 
the  seat  of  Marshall  College  and  a  Theological  Sem- 
inary of  the  German  Reformed  church. 

^MEREDITH.  George,  an  English  novelist  and 
poet,  born  in  Hampshire,  Feb.  12, 1828,  and  made 
his  first  appearance  as  an  author  in  1851  in  a  little 
volume  of  poems.  This  was  followed  by  The  Sharing 
of  Shngpat:  an  Arabian  Entertainment, a.h\gh\j  origi- 
nal  tale,  in  burlesque  imitation  of  the  manner  of 
the  Eastern  story-teller.  The  series  of  Mr.  Mere- 
dith's greater  and  more  characteristic  works  began 
in  1859  with  The  Ordeal  of  Jiichard  Eeverel:  A  Ills- 
tor;!  of  a  Father  and  a  Son,  a  traffic  romance,  deal- 
ing with  the  larger  problems  of  education,  especially 
in  its  ethical  aspects.  Beauchamp's  Career  is  per- 
haps the  most  perfectly  constructed  of  all  the 
series.  Diana  of  the  Crosm-ays  is  by  general  consent 
the  most  charming  of  Mr.  Meredith's  novels.  Much 
of  his  writing  deals  more  or  less  directly,  in  a  seri- 
ous manner,  with  the  most  important  problems  of 
politics,  sociology,  and  ethics.    It  is  in  his  poetry 


1072 


M  E  R  I  D  p]  N  —  MEXICO 


that  his  deepest  views  of  life  really  find  their  di- 
rectest  and  most  elementary  expression. 

MERIDEN,  a  busy  inland  manufacturing  city  of 
Connecticut,  on  the  Hartford  &  New  Haven  Kail- 
road,  about  midway  between  these  cities.  The 
leading  articles  of  manufacture  are  britaunia,  metal 
and  silver  plated  ware,  in  which  it  exceeds  any 
other  city  of  the  world.  It  produces  much  other 
hardware,  bronze  goods,  fire-arms,  cutlery,  etc. 
Population  in  1890,  21,230.  See  Britannica,  Vol 
XVI,  p.  37. 

MERIDIAN,  a  post-village,  the  county-seat  and  a 
railroad  junction  of  Lauderdale  county.  Miss., 
eighty-five  miles  east  of  Jackson.  It  has  two 
female  seminaries,  machine  shop,  steam  corn- 
mills,  and  manufactories  of  furniture,  doors,  sashes 
and  blinds  plows,  and  cotton  yarn.    Population, 

lo.ssg. 

MERIVALE,  John  Herm.\n,  an  English  scholar 
and  translator,  born  at  Exeter,  1779,  died  in  1884. 
He  was  sent  to  St.  John's  College,  Cambridge,  and 
was  called  to  the  bar  in  1805.  He  contributed 
largely  so  Bland's  Collections  From  the  Grerk  Anthol- 
ogy. From  1831  to  the  time  of  his  death  he  held 
the  office  of  commissioner  of  bankruptcy.  Works 
of  no  little  merit  were  his  Poems,  Original  and 
Translated,  and  Minor  Poems  of  Schiller.  "Charles, 
his  son,  was  born  in  1808,  and  educated  at  Harrow, 
Haileybury,  and  St.  John's  College,  Cambridge, 
where  he  took  his  decree  in  1830.  He  was  chaplain 
to  the  speaker  from  1863  to  1869,  when  he  was  ap- 
pointed dean  of  Ely.  His  chief  works  are  the  Fall 
of  the  Roman  Republic,  and  History  of  the  Romans  Un- 
der the  Empire.  Another  son,  Hekman,  born  in  1806, 
was  educated  at  Harrow  and  Trinity  College,  Ox- 
ford, elected  Fellow  of  Balliol,  called  to  the  bar  in 
1832,  and  appointed  professor  of  political  economy 
at  Oxford,  in  1837,  and,  later,  permanent  under-sec- 
retary  of  state  first  for  the  colonies,  next  for  India. 
In  1859  he  was  made  C.B.  He  died  on  Feb.  8,  1874. 
His  son,  Herm.in  Charles,  born  in  1839,  has  writ- 
ten a  number  of  successful  plays. 

MERMAID'S  GLOVE  {Halichondria  Palmata), 
the  name  given  to  the  largest  of  British  sponges. 
It  grows  in  deep  water,  and  is  sometimes  2  feet 
high.  It  is  yellowish  and  rough,  with  myriads  of 
minute  fragile  spiculse.  The  surface  is  very 
porous. 

MEROM,  a  post-village  ot  Sullivan  county,  Ind., 
on  the  Wabash  River,  thirty-five  miles  lielow  Terre 
Haute.  It  is  the  seat  of  Union  Christian  College 
(Christian  connection). 

MERRILL,  a  city,  the  county-seat  of  Lincoln 
county.  Wis.,  on  Wisconsin  River. 

MERRIMAC,  a  village  of  Massachusetts,  on  the 
Merrimao  River,  about  eight  miles  northeast  of 
Haverhill.  It  is  engaged  in  the  manufacture  of 
shoes  and  carriages. 

MESAGNA,  a  town  in  southern  Italy,  twelve 
miles  soutliwest  of  Briiidisi.  It  produces  good 
olive-oil.     Population,  9,601. 

MESENTERY,  the  broad  fold  of  peritoneum 
which  attaches  the  intestines  posteriorly  to  the 
vertebral  column.  It  serves  to  retain  the  inte.s- 
tines  in  their  place,  while  at  the  same  time  it  allows 
the  necessary  amount  of  movement;  and  it  con- 
tains between  its  layers  the  blood  vessels  and 
nerves  which  pass  to  them,  the  lacteal  vessels,  and 
the  nesenteric  glands. 

MESQUIT.  See  Mezquitb  in  these  Revisions  and 
Additions. 

MESSENGERS,  King's  (Queen's),   officers  em- 
ployed  by  secretaries  of  state  to  convey  valuable, 
and  confidential  dispatches  at  home  and  abroad. 

METALLURGY.  See  Britannica,  Vol.  XIV,  pp. 
57-63. 


METALS.     See   Britannica,  Vol.  XVI.,   pp.  63-70. 
METHODIST     EPISCOPAL     CHURCH.      See 
Britannica,  Vol.  XVI.,  pp.  185-93.    See  also   Reli- 
gious Denominations  IN  THE  United  States  in  these 
Revisions  and  Additions. 

•  METH  UEN,  a  post-village  of  Essex  county,  Mass., 
lying  between  the  New  Haven  State  line  and  the- 
Merrimac  River.  It  manufactures  cottons,  woolens, 
jute,  hats  and  shoes.    Population  4,807. 

METONYMY  (Gr.metonymia,  signifying  a  change 
in  the  name)  a  figure  of  speech  by  which  one  thing 
is  put  for  another  to  which  it  bears  an  important 
relation,  as  a  part  for  the  whole,  the  effect  for  the 
cause,  etc.  For  example,  "Lying  iips  are  an  abom- 
ination to  the  Lord."  This  figure  is  very  express- 
ive, and  is  much  used  in  proverbial  and  other  pithy 
modes  of  speech. 

METROPOLIS  CITY',  the  county-seat  of  Mas- 
sac county.  111.,  on  the  Ohio  River,  forty  miles- 
from  its  mouth.  It  has  a  steam-ferry,  ship-yards,, 
saw  and  flour-mills. 

METTRAY',  a  village  of  France,  five  miles  north 
of  Tours,  noted  for  its  great  agricultural  and  in- 
dustrial reformatory,  the  parent  of  all  such  institu- 
tions. It  dates  from  1839,  and  in  1886  had  537  in- 
mates. 

MEULEBEKE.a  town  in  the  Belgian  province 
of  West  Flanders,  on  the  Mandel,  a  tributary  of 
the  Lys,  twenty-four  miles  southwest  of  Ghent. 
Population,  9,063. 

MEXICAN  WAR.  See  Britannica,  Vol.  XVI., 
pp.  219-20;  Vol.  XXIII,  p.  767. 

MEXICO,  the  county-seat  of  Audrain  county, 
Mo.,  108  miles  northwest  of  St.  Louis.  It  contains 
mills  and  a  female  seminary.    Population,  4,789. 

MEXICO,  a  post-village  of  Oswego  county,  N.  Y. 
It  has  a  tannery,  flour  and  grist  mills,  foundry  and 
carriage  factories. 

MEXICO,  Republic  of.  For  general  article  on 
Mexico,  see  Britannica,  Vol.  XVI,  pp.  206-222. 
The  latest  official  estimates  of  the  area  and  pop- 
ulation of  IMexico  are  those  of  1889,  which  furnish 
the  following  figures :  Total  area  of  the  Repub- 
lic, 740,970  square  miles;  population,  11,632,924,  an 
increase  during  the  last  ten  years  of  1,724,912. 
Constitution  and  E.xecutive  Government. — The 
Mexican  Constitution  now  in  force,  was  adopted 
Feb.  5,  1857,  and  modified  at  diflferent  dates  down 
to  1887.  Under  its  terms  Mexico  is  declared  a  fed- 
erative republic,  divided  into  states — 19  at  the  out- 
set, but  at  present  27  in  number,  with  two  territo- 
ries and  the  federal  district^each  of  which  has  a 
right  to  manage  its  own  local  affairs,  while  the 
whole  are  bound  together  in  one  body  politic  by 
fundamental  and  constitutional  laws.  The  powers 
ot  th(>  suiireme  government  are  divided  into  three 
branclu's,  the  legislative,  executive,  and  judicial. 
The  legislative  power  is  vested  in  a  congress  con- 
sisting of  a  house  of  representatives  and  a  senate, 
and  the  executive  in  a  president.  Representatives 
elected  by  the  suffrage  of  all  respectable  male 
adults,  at  the  rate  of  one  member  for  40.000  inhabi- 
tants, hold  their  places  for  two  years.  The  qualifi- 
cations re(]uisite  are,  to  be  twenty-five  years  of 
age,  and  a  resident  in  the  state.  The  senate  con- 
sists of  fifty-six  members,  two  for  each  state,  of  at 
least  thirty  years  of  age,  who  are  returned  in  the 
same  manner  as  the  deputies.  The  members  ot 
both  houses  receive  salaries  of  3,000  dollars  a  year. 
The  president  is  elected  by  electors  popularly 
chosen  in  a  general  election,  holds  office  for  four 
year.-;,  and,  according  to  an  amendment  of  the  con- 
stitution in  1887,  may  be  elected  for  two  consecu- 
tive terms  of  four  years  each.  Tlie  senator  who 
Iiresides  over  the  senate  by  monthly  election  acts 
temporarily  in  default  of  the   president  of  the  Ke- 


MEXICO 


1073 


public.  Congress  has  to  meet  annually  from  April 
1  to  ^lay  30,  and  from  September  17  to  December 
JO. and  a  permanent  committee  of  both  houses  sits 
durii)},'  the  recesses. 

President  of  the  Republic,  1891. — General  Por- 
firio  Diaz ;  installed  president  of  the  Republic,  as 
successor  of  General  Manuel  Gonzales,  December 
1,  1KS4;  reelected  and  entered  his  second  period  of 
four  years  on  December  1,  1888.  The  administra- 
tion is  carried  on,  under  the  direction  of  the  Presi- 
dent, by  a  council  of  six  secretaries  of  state,  heads 
•of  the  departm.ents  of  justice,  finance,  the  interior, 
war  and  navy,  foreign  affairs,  and  public  works. 

The  following  table  gives  the  populations  of  the 
Federal  (capital  city)  district  and  the  states 
severally,  as  carefully  reported  in  the  general 
census  of  1879,  and  as  officially  estimated  by  the 
State  governments  in  1889 : 


state. 

Area  in 
s.juare 
miles. 

Population 

1879. 

Estimated 
Population, 

1889. 

Federal  District 

Me.\i'-o 

4B.? 
7,840 
1,776 
1,622 
11.41S 
12,019 
:i.205 
8.161 
2.897 
23.714 
39.174 

26.232 
2-,5«? 
22.999 
3,746 
16.048 
24,552 
29,569 
11,849 
23,637 
:«,200 
27,916 
42,511 
25334 
83.715 
.TO  .901 
79,020 
61.563 
11,270 

.351  .SM 
710,579 
1.59.160 
138,988 
s:«.845 
784.466 
203.250 
427  ,.^50 
140,4.30 
661.534 
983,484 
744,000 
.542,918 
516.486 
422..506 

65,827 
205,362 
295,590 
302,315 
104,747 
203,284 
18(i,491 
140,1.37 
190.816 

90.413 
226,541 
130,026 
115.424 

30,208 

4.51,246 
778,969 
1.51  ,&tO 
135,151 
l,n07,116 
839,468 
213,525 
494,212 
121,926 

Tlaxcala 

Puebia     ... 

Querrtaro 

Hidalgo 

A^uas  Calieiites. 

Jalisco 

Oa.xaoa 

1.161,709 
806.845 
644.157 
546,447 
526,966 

69.547 
266.496 
3.32.887 
282,502 
114.028 
244.052 
223.684 
189.1.39 
265.931 

91,180 
298,073 
183.327 
150.391 

34,668 
130,019 

Vera  Cruz 

San  Luis  Potosi 

Zacatecas : 

Chiapas 

Sonera 

Ter.  Lower  Calltornia. 
Territory  of  Tepic 

Total 

740,970 

9,908,011 

11.632,924 

The  chief  cities  in  1889  reported  their  popula- 
tions thus:  Mexico,  329,355;  Guadalajara,  95,000; 
Puebia,  78,530;  San  Luis  Potos^,  62,573:  Guana- 
juato, 52,112  ;  Leon,  47.939 ;  ilonterey,  41,700 ;  Aguas 
Calientes,  32,355;  Merida,  32.000;  Oaxaca,  28,827- 
Colima,  25,124 ;  Vera  Cruz,  24,000.  In  1887  the  num- 
ber of  Spaniards  residing  in  the  country  was 
9,553.  ' 

Revenue  and  E.xpexditures. — The  revenues  and 
expenditures  since  and  including  1885,  have 
been  : 


Revenue. 

18S5-S6 $  26.770,,S73 

1886-87 28,711.817 

1887-88 32.321399 

1888-,S9 32,745581 

1839-90 36,500,000 


Expenditure. 

188.5-86 $  31 .672 .8.36 

18.86-87 38,78.3,919 

1887-88 36.270.448 

1888-89 38.527.2:19 

36,729.542 


The  expenditures  for  1887-88  and  1888-.89  being 
given  as  approximately  correct. 

The  following  are  the  budget  estimates  of  reve- 
nue and  expenditure  for  the  year  ending  June  30, 
1891:  ^ 

2—30 


Revenue. 

Customs $  26.200.000 

Excise  1,500.000 

Stamps 9,400.(«i0 

Direct  taxes 1,400.000 

Posts  and  Tele- 
graphs   1,200.000 

Mint 270,000 

Lotteries 300.00U 

Various 1,600,000 


Expenditcee. 

Legislative  power.. $  1,054,036 
Executive  '•  ...  49,849 
Judicial  "       ...       468,884 

Foreign  Affairs 471.:i03 

Home  Department..    3,678,679 
Justice   and  Educa- 
tion      1,424,972 

Public   works 7,310,320 

Finance 11,365,207 

War  and  Kavy 12,629,543 

;  41,770,000  %  38,452,803 

The  Revenue  and  the  expenditure  of  the  varioue 
states,  according  to  the  latest  official  data  collected 
in  1885,  balanced  at  9,118,977  dollars.  In  the  five 
years  1881-85  the  total  revenues  of  the  States 
amounted  to  40.163.241  dollars,  and  of  the  munici- 
palities to  24,323,200  dollars. 

The  Debt  of  Mexico.— The  debt  is  held  in  Eng- 
land. On  June  23,  1886,  arrangements  were  made 
between  tlie  Mexican  government,  and  the  bond- 
holders of  the  several  Mexican  debts  by  which  the 
total  amount  of  the  English  debt  recognized  by 
Mexico  was  22,341,322?.,  and  the  arrangement  re- 
duced it  to  13.991,775/. ;  ]Mesico,  therefore,  being  re- 
lieved by  8,349,597/.  On  July  1,1889,  in  accordance 
with  this  arrangement,  411^  per  cent  of  the  whole 
outstanding  debt  was  redeemed,  viz.,  40  per  cent, 
for  the  capital  as  per  agreement  of  June  1886,  and 
\)/i  percent,  for  the  interest  of  the  half-year. 

On  June  11,  1888,  the  conversion  was  primarily 
closed  and  another  delay  given,  with  the  following 
results  (January  1890) : — 

Of  the  10.241 .650/.  of  the  1851  bonds  10,194,000/. 
were  presented  to  the  conversion.  47,650/.  thereby 
remaining  as  deferred.  In  exchange  of  the  arrears 
of  interest  of  the  above  bonds,  new  converted  bonds 
of  1886  were  given  to  the  amount  of  912.632/.  Is.  3rf. 
Of  the  4,864,000/.  of  1864  bonds.  4.792,100/.  were  pre- 
sented to  the  conversion,  and  in  exchange  of  them 
now  converted  bonds  of  the  value  of  2.595,971/.  158. 
were  given  ;  balance  not  presented  is  63.400/. 

With  other  classes  of  bonds  the  total  of  the  new 
converted  bonds  issued  in  London  by  tlie  Mexican 
Financial  Agency  was  4.585.000/..  which,  added  to 
the  1851  bonds— 10,142.400/.— give  a  total  of  14,727,- 
400/. 

In   ^larch   1888  the  Mexican    government  con- 
tracted a  loan  in  London  and  Berlin  for  10,500,000?. 
in  6  per  cent,  bonds.  Of  these.  3.700,000/.  were  issued 
at  78^2.  and  the  proceeds  applied   by  the   Mexican 
government    to   the  payment  of  the   outstanding 
floating  debt  of  the  Republic  since  the  year  1882. 
The  remainder,  6,800,000/.. according  to  the  contract 
for  the  loan,  was  taken  at   the  option  of   the  con- 
tractors befoe  July  1,1889,  at   86}.,  per  cent.    The 
contractors  gave  in  exchange  one  part  in  converted 
bonds,  and  the  proceeds  of  the  other  part  were  ap- 
plied to  effect  the  redemption  at  41J^   per  cent,  of 
all  the  outstanding  converted  bonds  in  July   1889. 
The  object  (which  has  been  realized)  of  this  part  of 
the  loan  was  to  redeem  the  1851   debt  and  the  con- 
verted bonds  at  the  rate  of  40  per  cent.,  according 
to  the  agreement    made  between  the  government 
and  the   bondholders,   and    referred   to  above,  on 
June  23, 1.S86.     The   conversion  of  all  the  internal 
debts   of  the  Republic,  which  is  being  carried  into 
effect  in  Mexico,  has  reached  31,500,000  dollars  and 
very  little  more  remained  to  be  converted.    The  in- 
terest on  the  internal  debt  for  claims  not  presented 
for  conversion  is,  from  1.890,  at  3  per  cent.    All  cou- 
pons have  been   punctually   paid   since   1886.    On 
ilay  27,  1890,  tlie  conversion  of  the  old  debts  was 
closed.    On  September  12,  1890,  a  new  6  per  cent, 
loan  for  6,000.000/.    was  issued  at  93'.i   in  London, 
Berlin  and    Amsterdam,    the  proceeds    to   be   ap- 
plied to  paying   off  arrears  and    balances  of  rail- 


1074 


lAI  E  Y  E  R  —  ^l  I  ALL 


way  subventions  amounting  to  $40,000,000,  assigned 
in  the  form  of  percentages  of  customs  revenue. 
Including  this  loan  the  total  foreign  delit  amounts 
to  16,500,000/. 

The  total  Mexican  debt  (including  foreign  and 
home)  on  Jan.  1,  1891,  was  $113,600,000. 

Akmy  axi)  Navy. — The  army  consists  of  infantry, 
22,437;  artillery,  2,120;  cavalry,  6,359;  auxiliary 
cavalry,  1,483;  rural  guards  or  police,  2,200;  gen- 
darmery,229;  total,  34,833.  There  are  2,270  olficers. 
Every  jiiexican  capable  of  carrying  arms  is  liable 
for  military  service  from  his  twentieth  to  his 
fiftieth  year. 

There  is  a  fleet  of  two  unarmored  gun-vessels, 
each  of  450  tons  and  600  horse-power,  and  armed 
with  two  20-pounders ;  and  three  small  gunboats. 

Trade  and  Commerce — The  subjoined  table 
shows  the  proportion  of  precious  metal  and  other 
produce  of  Mexico  for  several  recent  years : 


The  following  table  shows  the  principal  articles 
exported : 


Hemp 

Coffee 

Hides  and  skius 

Woods 

Vauilla ^. 

Copper 

Liviug  animals.. 

Lead 

Gum - 

Ixtle 

Tobacco  

Silver 


;  .872 .593 

;,8So,o;j5 

;.011.129 
1,390,215 
92li.903 
817,989 
587.0fi3 
407,787 
595,036 
594,118 
<.1T1.8.SH 
1,725,589 


Years. 

Sundries. 

Precious  Metal. 

Total. 

1884-&3 

1885-86 
18,St;-87 
1887-88 
18S.8-89 
1890-91 

13,425,190 
13,741,316 
15,631,427 
17,879.720 
21,373,148 
23,878,098 

$  33,128,190 
29,906,400 
83,560,502 
31,000,188 
38,7&5,27.5 
38,621,2.10 

$  46,553,380 
43,647,716 
49,191,929 
48,885,908 
60.158,423 
62,499,388 

The  trade  of  Mexico  lies  chiefly  with  the  following 
the  last  four  years,  so  far  as  exports  are  concerned 
ing  table  includes  precious  metals : 


countries  in 
;  the  follow- 


Countries. 

Exports  to 

1885-80. 

1886-87. 

1887-88. 

1888-89. 

United  States.... 
England    

$  25,429,594 

11,600,067 

4,936,276 

1,571,399 

913,2,53 

122,192 

$  27,728,714 

13,362,187 

5,112,521 

2,175,760 

625,294 

187,444 

$  31,059,627 

10,540,965 

4,474,723 

2,177,106 

457,842 

175,645 

$40,853,302 

12,535,534 

3,496,038 

2,061,563 

659,330 

552.596 

Other  countries. 

MEYER,  Conrad  Ferdinand,  a  Swiss  poet  and 
novelist,  born  Oct.  12,  1825  at  Ziirich,  near  which  he 
finally  settled  in  1877.  His  style  is  graceful,  and 
he  excells  in  character-drawing  and  in  genre-pic- 
tures of  descriptive  work. 

MEYER,  Heinrich  August  Wilhelm,  commen- 
tator, born  at  Gotha,  Jan.  10,  1800,  died  in 
Hanover,  June  21,  1873.  He  studied  at  Jena,  was 
pastor  at  Harste,  Hoyde,  and  Neustadt,  retired  in 
1848,  and  settled  in  Hanover.  His  name  survives 
in  his  commentaries  on  the  New  Testament— a  mon- 
ument of  exegetical  science. 

MEYER,  Joiiann  Georg,  a  German  painter,  born 
at  Bremen  in  1813.  He  studied  art  at  Diisseldorf, 
and  turned  his  attention  to  gemr,  acquiring  great 
popularity  by  his  pictures  of  children.  They  have 
given  him  the  surname  of  "Kinder-Meyer."  Several 
of  his  pictures  are  owned  in  the  TTnited  States. 
Among  the  most  noted  are:  T]ti-  Llltic  Ilonstirifi:; 
The  ^'<■ln  SIxIcr;  What  hits  Mother  Brought^  Little 
Briithn-  Axlrr),:  The  Firxt  Pmijcr. 

MEZZ.WINE,  a  low  story  introduced  between 
two  higher  ones,  or  occupying  a  part  of  the  lieight 
of  a  portion  of  a  high  slory.  Th(>  term  is  also  ap- 
plied to  the  small  windows  used  to  light  such  apart- 
ments. 


Shipping  axd  Railway  Communications.- — The 
shipping  of  Mexico  (now,  1,270  vessels)  includes 
small  vessels  engaged  in  the  coast- 
ing trade.  In  the  first  six  months 
of  1889,  2,768  vessels  of  987,083  tons 
(118  of  70,489  tons,  British),  entered 
the  ports  of  Mexico. 

In  1890  there  were  4.648  miles  of 
railway  open  for  traffic  and  1.369 
miles  under  construction.  The  capi- 
tal invested  by  English  companies 
was  14,601,380?.,  and  by  American 
companies  $245,126,249  (U.  S.)  In 
1889  twenty  concessions  were  grant- 
ed or  amended  for  railways  in  va- 
rious parts  of  Mexico.  In  1889 
there  were  12,977,952  passengers, 
paying  2,090,505  pesos ;  and  875,894 
tons  of  goods  were  conveyed  at  a 
charge  of  4,822,690  pesos. 

The  total  length  of  telegraph  lines 
in  1889  was  27.861  English  miles,  of 
which  14,841  miles  belonged  to  the 
Federal  government,  the  remainder 
belonging,  in  about  equal  parts,  to 
the  states,  companies,  and  the  rail- 
ways. In  1889therewere  1,448  post- 
offices. 

The  inland  post  carried  87,509,640 
letters,  newspapers,  etc. ;  and  the 
international,  ,37,193.403. 
MEZZOJUSO,  a  town  of  Sicily,  in  the  province  of 
Palermo,  eighteen  miles  from  Palermo  city.  It  is 
one  of  the  four  colonies  of  Albanians,  who,  on  the 
death  of  Scanderberg,  in  the  15th  century,  iled  to 
Sicily  to  avoid  the  oppression  of  the  Turks.  They 
preserve  their  language  to  a  great  extent,  and  fol- 
low the  Greak  ritual,  their  priests  being  allowed  to 
marry.     Population,  7,161. 

MGLIN,  a  town  of  Russia,  in  the  government  of 
Tchernigov,  125  miles  northeast  of  the  town  of 
Tchernigov.  Jlglin  has  a  large  cloth-factory,  and  a 
considerable  number  of  German  families.  Popula- 
tion, 5,940. 

IMIAGAO,  a  town  on  the  island  of  Panay,  one  of 
tlie  Philippine  Isles,  in  the  province  of  Iloilo.  The 
inhabitants,  who  are  industrious,  ciuufcirtalile,  and 
well  educated,  are  estimated  at  30,000  in  number. 

JIIALL,  Edward,  an  apostle  of  dis-eslablishment, 
born  in  1809,  died  at  Sevenoaks,  Ajiril  29,  1881.  He 
served  as  an  Independent  minister  at  AVare,  and 
afterwards  at  Leicester,  down  to  1840,  when  he 
founded  the  "Nonconformist"  newspaper.  In  1844 
he  helped  to  establish  the  British  Anti-State 
("hurch  .Vssociation,  known  later  as  the  Liberation 
Society,  and  sat  in  the  House  of  Commons  for 
Rochdale,  152-67,   and   for    Bradford,  1869-74.     On 


M  I  A  M  I  —  M  I  C  H  I  G  A  N 


retiring  he  was  presented  with  ten  thousand 
guineas. 

MIAMI,  a  river  of  Ohio,  which  rises  by  several 
branches  in  the  western  center  of  the  State,  and 
after  a  southwest  course  of  150  miles  through  one  of 
the  richest  regions  of  America,  and  the  important 
towns  of  Dayton  and  Hamilton,  empties  into  the 
Oliio  Kiver  twenty  miles  west  of  Cincinnati.  It  is 
sometimes  called  the  Great  Miami,  to  distinguish 
it  from  the  Little  Miami,  a  smaller  river,  which 
runs  parallel  to  it,  fifteen  to  twenty  miles  east, 
through  the  Miami  Valley. 

MIAMISBUUG,  a  post-village  of  Montgomery 
county,  O.,  situated  in  the  center  of  the  tobacco 
region  of  iliami  Valley.  It  has  fine  water-power 
several  mills  and  factories,  a  foundry  and  excellent 
scliools. 

MICHEL,   Fr.incisque,  a  learned  French   anti- 

?[uary,  born  at  Lyons,  Feb.  18,1809,  became  in  1839  pro- 
essor  in  the  Faculty  des  Lettres  at  Bordeaux,  and 
died  May  19,  1887.  He  earned  a  great  reputation 
by  his  exhaustive  researches  in  Norman  history, 
French  chatisons,  the  Basques,  tiie  history  of  me- 
diaeval commerce,  and  many  more  among  the  by- 
ways of  learning. 

MICHELET,  Kari,  LuDwiG,a  celebrated  German 
author  and  philosopher, born  at  Berlin,  Dec.  4,  1801, 
died  in  187IJ.  In  1829  he  became  professor  of  philos- 
opliy  in  the  University  of  Berlin.  His  works  are  of 
interest  to  students  of  Aristotle  and  of  German 
pliilnsonhy. 

MICHIGAN  CITY,  a  town  of  Indiana.  Popula- 
tion in  1890,  10,704.  See  Britannica,  Vol.  XVI.,  p. 
241. 

JIICHIGAN  LAKE.  See  Britannica,  Vol.  XIV, 
p.  217;  Vol.  XXI,  pp.  178,  182. 

MICHIGAN  UNIVERSITY.  See  Colleges  in 
these  Revisions  and  Additions. 

MICMACS.  See  North  Americ.\n  Indians  in 
these  Revisions  and  Additions. 

MICROLESTES,  the  name  given  to  the  earliest 
known  mammalian  form — a  marsupial ;  it  is  dis- 
covered in  the  Trias  of  England  and  Wiirtemberg. 
Only  the  teeth,  wliioh  are  of  small  size,  have  been 
met  with. 

JIICROSCOPE.  See  Britannica,  Vol.  XVI,  pp. 
257-78. 

MICROTOME,  an  instrument  for  cutting  thin 
sections  of  portions  of  plants  and  animals  prelim- 
inary to  their  microscopic  examination.  The  ob- 
jects to  be  cut  are  imbedded  in  some  material  such 
as  paraffin  or  celloidin,  or  frozen  in  gum,  which 
makes  the  slicing  of  minute  or  delicate  objects 
readily  feasible.  The  instrument  is  a  simple  de- 
vice by  which  a  sliding  razor  slices  a  lixed  but  ad- 
justable object,  or  by  which  the  object  is  made  to 
move  up  and  down  across  the  edge  of  a  razor. 

MIDDLEBURY,  a  post-village,  the  county-seat 
of  Addison  county,  Vt.,  on  Otter  Creek.  It  is  the 
seat  of  Middlebury  College,  has  six  marble  quarries, 
good  water-power,  and  manufactures  flour,  woolen, 
cott<m,  paper,  leather,  sash,  blinds,  and  doors. 

MIDDLEPORT,a  post-village  of  Meigs  county, 
Ohio,  on  the  Ohio  River. 

MIDDLETON,  Arthur  (1742-1787),  a  signer  of 
the  Declaration  of  Independence.  In  1775  he  be- 
camea  member  of  the  Provincial  Congress,  and  the 
following  year  was  a  delegate  to  the  Continental 
Congress.  In  1880  he  was  active  in  the  defense  of 
Charleston,  S.  C,  and  after  the  fall  of  that  city  was 
for  sometime  held  as  a  prisoner  of  war.  After  his 
exchange  he  served  in  Congress  until  the  close  of 
the  war.     Later  he  was  a  State  senator. 

5IIDDLET0N,  a  town  of  Ireland,  thirteen  miles 
east  of  Cork.  At  the  college  (1159G;  Curran  was 
educated.    Population,  3,358. 


:MIDDLET0WN,  a  city  of  Connecticut.  Popu- 
lation in  1890,  9,012.  See  Britannica,  Vol.  XVI,  p. 
283. 

MICHIGAN,  State  op.  For  general  article  on 
the  State  of  Michigan,  see  Britannica,  Vol.  XVI, 
pp.  237-240.  The  census  of  1890  reports  the  re- 
vised area  and  population  of  the  State  as  follows : 
Area  (including  1,485  square  miles  of  water  sur- 
face), 58,915  square  miles;  population,  2,093,899, 
an  increase  of  456,952,  or  27.92  per  cent.,  during 
the  last  decade.  Capital,  Lansing,  with  a  popu- 
lation in  1890  of  13,102. 

The  population  of  the  chief  cities  and  towns  of 
the  State  having  a  population  of  8,000  or  over 
were  as  follows  in  1890: 


Cities  aud  Towns. 


Adrian 

Alpena .'. . 

Ann  .\rbor 

Battle  Creek... 

Bay  City 

Detroit 

Grand  Rapids.. 
Iron  Mountain 

Ishpeming 

Jackson 

Kalamazoo 

Lansing 

Manistee 

Marquette 

Menominee .. . . 

Muskegon 

Port  Huron 

Saginaw 

West  Bay  City. 


Population. 


7,849 
6,153 
8.061 
7,063 

20,693 
116,»40 

32,016 
(») 
6,039 

16.10.5 

11,937 
8,319 
6,930 
•4,690 
3,288 

11,262 
8,883 

29,441 


907 
5.130 
1,370 
6,134 
7,146 
89,5.36 
28,262 


5,158 
4,693 
5,916 
4,783 
6,882 
4,403 
7,342 

11,440 
4.600 

16,781 
6, .584 


11.56 
83  37 
17.00 
86. &5 
34.53 
76.96 
88.27 


85.41 
29.14 

49.es 

67.49 


223. 30 
101.68 
62.46 
66.81 
102.92 


*  No  population  in  1880. 

The  land  areas  and  populations  of  the  several 
counties  of  Michigan,  as  reported  in  the  census  of 
1890  were  as  follows,  the  areas  being  in  square 
miles: 


Alcona.. 

Alger 

Allegan . 
Alpena.. 
Antrim.. 

Arenac.. 


Barry. 
Bay.... 
Benzie. 


Berrien 

Branch 

Calhoun 

Cass 

Charlevoix.. 

Cheyboygan 
Chippewa 

Clare 

Clinton 

Crawford 


Delta 

Eaton. .. 
Emmet  . . 
Genesee  . 
Gladwin  . 


Gogebic  

Grand  Traverse. 

Gratiot 

Hillsdale 

Houghton 


Area. 

Pop. 

1890. 

700 

5,409 

983 

1,238 

835 

38,961 

580 

15,581 

538 

10,413 

388 

5,683 

915 

3,0.56 

580 

23.783 

466 

56,412 

340 

5,237 

570 

41,28:) 

504 

26,791 

720 

43,501 

604 

20,953 

427 

9,686 

815 

11,986 

1,608 

12,019 

580 

7,568 

580 

26,509 

580 

2,962 

718 

15,3.50 

580 

32,094 

438 

8,756 

640 

39,430 

510 

4,209 

1,115 

13,166 

48.5 

13,355 

560 

28,668 

597 

,50,660 

1,000 

35  ,.389 

37,815 
8,789 
6,237 


1,8M 
26.317 
38,081 

3,438 

36,785 
27,941 
38,452 
22,009 
5,115 

6,524 
5,248 
4,187 
28,100 
1,159 


31,225 
6,638 

39,220 
1,127 


3076 


M  I  D  D  L  E  T  0  W  N  —  M I  D  D  L  E  T  0  W  N 


Huron 

IngUain 

lona 

Iosco 

Iron 

Isabella 

Isle  Koyal.... 

JacksoQ 

Kalamazoo. 
Kalkaska 

Kent 

Keweenaw  — 

Lake 

Lapeer 

Leelanaw 

Lonawee 

Livingston.    ,. 

Luce 

Mackinac 

Macomb 

Manistee 

Manitou 

Marquette  . , ,  . 

Mason 

Mecosta 

Menominee 
Midland  — 
Missaukee  - 

Monroe 

Montcalm..   . 

Montmorency 
Muskegon  — 

Newaygo 

Oakland 

Oceana 

Ogemaw 

Ontonagon  — 

Osceola 

Oscoda 

Otsego 

Ottawa 

Presque  Isle. . 
Roscommon  . . 

Saginaw 

Saint  Clair. . . 

Saint  Joseph. . 

Sanilac 

SchooIVraft. . 
Shiawassee  . . 
Tuscola 

Van  Buren. .  - 
Washtenaw. . , 

Wayne 

Wexford 


Pop.        Pop 
^••ea.         1890.         18S0. 


Indiana  Territory, 

William  Henry  Harrison,  1800-6. 
Michigan  Tebkitory. 


28,355 
37,666 
32,801 
15,224 
4,432 

20,089 
33,676 
33372 
6,873 

18,784 
135 
45,031 
39,273 
5,160 

12,159 
55 
42,031 
34,342 
2,937 

109,922 
2,894 
6,505 
29,213 
7,944 

73,253 
4,270 
3,233 

30,1.38 
6,253 

48,448 
20,858 
2,455 
7,830 
31,813 

4«,343 
22,251 

2,902 
31,627 

24,230 
860 
39,521 
16,385 
19,697 

12,532 
1,334 
25,394 
10,065 
13,973 

33,639 
10,657 
5,048 
32,337 
32,637 

11,987 
6,893 
1,553 
33.624 
33,148 

40,013 
20,476 
41,245 
15,698 

26,586 
14,688 
41,537 
11,699 

6,583 
3,756 
14,630 
1,904 
4,272 

1,914 
2.565 
10,777 
467 
1,974 

35,358 
4,687 
2,033 
82,273 
52,105 

33,126 
3,113 
1,4.'J9 
59,095 
46,197 

25,356 
32,589 
5,818 
30,952 
32,508 

26,626 
26,341 
1,575 
27,0.59 
25,738 

30,541 
42,210 
257414 
11,278 

30,807 

41.848 

166,.144 

6,815 

The  list  of  governors  of  Michigan,  with  the  dates 
of  service,  is  as  follows : 

Under  French  Dominion. 


Samuel  Champlain 1622-.35 

M.deMontmagny 1635-47 

M.d'  Aillebout 1648-50 

M.  de  Lausou 1651-56 

M.  de  Lauson,  Jr 1656-57 

M.  d'AlUebout 16.57-58 

M.  d'  Argenaon 1658-60 

Baron  de  Avaugour 1661-€3 

M.  de  Mesey 1663-65 

M  de  Courcelles 1665-72 

M.  de  Vaudreuil  de 


Count  de  Frontenac. .  .1672-82 

M.  de  la  Barre 1682-85 

M.  de  Nonvllle 1685-89 

Count  de  Frontenac.  .1689-98 

M.  de  Cflllieres 1699-1703 

M.  de  Vaudreuil 1703-25 

M.  de  Beauharnois. .   .1726-47 

M.  de  Galissonier 1747-49 

M.de  la  Jonquiere 1749-62 

M.  du  Quesne 1752-55 

Cavagnac,  nXy-«3. 


Under  British  Dominion. 

James  Murray 176.3-67  I  Frederick  ITaldlmand. 1777-85 

Guy  Carleton 1768-77  |  Henry  Hamilton 1786-86 

Lord  Dorchester,  1786-96. 

Tebritoriai.  Governors,  Northwest  Territory. 
Arthur  St.  Clair,  1796-lSOO. 


Governors  of  the  State. 


Stevens  T.  Mason 1&35-40 

William  Woodbridge  .1840-41 

J.  Wright  Gordon 1841-12 

John  S.  Barry 184.3-45 

Alpheus  Felch 1846-47 

William  L.  Greenly 1847 

Epaphroditus  Ransom. 1848-49 

John  S.  Barry 1850-51 

Robert  McClelland.   .1852-53 

Andrew  Parsons 1853-54 

Kinsley  S.  Bingham...  .1855-58 


Moses  Wisner 1859-60 

Austin  Blair 1861-64 

Henry  H.  Crapo 1865-68 

Henry  P.  Baldwin 1869-72 

John  J.Bagley 1873-77 

Charles  M.  Croswell. .  .1877-81 

David  H.Jerome 1881-83 

Josiah  W.  Begole 1883-85 

Russell  A.  Alger 1885-87 

Cvrus  G.  Luce 1887-91 

Edwin  B.  Winans 1891-93 


Gov.  Winan's  term  of  office  expires  Jan.  1, 1893. 
Governor's  salary,  .$4,000. 

Brief  Histohic  Notes  of  Michigan. — There  are 
two  opinions  as  to  the  origin  of  the  name  of  the 
State.  One  is  that  the  name  is  derived  from  the 
Indian  words  Mitrhi  Savyyegan,  meaning  "lake 
country  ;"  the  other  is  that  the  word  (first  given  to 
the  lake)  is  the  Indian  equivalent  of  "fish  weir"  or 
"trap,"  which  was  suggested  by  the  shape  of  the 
lake.  The  present  territory  had  no  white  inhabit- 
ants up  to  lti41,  although  French  missionaries  vis- 
ited Detroit  about  ]()20.  The  first  settlement  was 
at  the  Falls  of  St.  Mary  in  1641 ;  but  no  permanent 
settlement  was  made  until  16R8,  when  Alouez  Dab- 
Ion  and  James  Marquette  founded  the  Mission  of 
St.  Mary  at  St.  Mary.  A  fort  was  built  at  Macki- 
naw in  1671.  A  colony  was  planted  at  Detroit  in 
July,  1701,  by  M.  Antoine  de  la  Mottee  Cadillac. 
France  surrendered  all  its  possessions  in  that 
region  to  England  by  the  treaty  of  Paris  in  1763. 
Michigan  was  included  in  Canada  until  it  was  sur- 
rendered to  the  United  States  as  one  of  the  results 
of  the  Revolutionary  war;  the  formal  transfer, 
however,  was  not  made  until  1796,  when  Michigan 
became  a  part  of  the  Northwest  Territory.  When 
that  territory  was  divided.  May  7.  1800,  Michigan 
became  a  part  of  the  Indiana  Territory,  and  Gen. 
William  Henry  Harrison  (afterward  President  of 
the  United  States)  became  the  first  governor  of  the 
new  territory.  Michigan  Territory  was  organized 
June  30,  1805.  A  State  constitution  was  adopted  in 
1835  and  on  June  15,  1836,  Congress  voted  to  admit 
the  territory  into  the  Union  as  a  State,  on  condi- 
tion that  Michigan  should  accept  the  boundary 
line  claimed  by  Ohio.  Its  admission  was  formally 
declared  by  act  of  Congress  passed  Jan.  26,  1837. 
The  seat  of  government  was  transferred  from  De- 
troit to  Lansing,  INIay  16,  1847. 

For  numerous  other  items  of  recent  interest  re- 
lating to  the  State,  see  the  article  United  States 
in  these  Revisions  and  Additions. 

Progress  of  population  in  Michigan  by  decades: 
1810,  4,762;  1820,  8,765;  1830,  31,639;  1840,  212,267: 
1850,  .397,654;  I860,  749,113;  1870,  1,184,854;  1880, 
1,636,937;  1890,2,093,899. 

ailDDLETOWN,  a  post-village  of  Newcastle 
county,  Del.  It  is  a  great  peach  shipping  depot  and 
contains  fruit-preserving  eslablishments. 

MIDDLETOWN,  a  town  of  New  York.  Popula- 
tion in  1890,  11,908.  See  Britannica,  Vol.  XVI,  p. 
284. 

MIDDLETOWN,  a  railroad  center  of  Butler  coun- 
ty, Ohio,  thirty-two  miles  north  of  Cincinnati.  It 
contains  seven  paper-mills,  a  tobacco  factory, flour- 
mills,  foundry,  and  a  paper  bag  and  scissors  factory. 
Population  7,637. 

^IIDDLETOWN,  a  post-borough  of  Dauphin 
county.  Pa.,  situated  at  the  junction  of  Swatarra 
creek  and  the  Susquehanna  River.      It  is  noted  for 


MIDDLEWICH  —  MILFORD 


1077 


its  lumber  trade  and  iron  business.  It  contains  the 
American  Tube  and  Iron  Works,  Tusquelianna  Iron 
AVorks,  Middletown  Car  Works,  Cameron  Iron  Fur- 
naces, a  furniture  factory,  and  planing  mills.  Popu- 
lation, .5,104. 

MIDDLEWICH,  an  old-fashioned  market  town  of 
Cheshire,  on  the  river  Dane  and  the  Grand  Trunk 
Canal,  f  wenty-one  miles  east  of  Chester.  Its  salt- 
manufacture  has  declined.    Population,  3,379. 

MIDHAT  PASHA{182-'-1884),  a  Turkish  states- 
man, born  in  Bulgaria  in  1822.  In  1839  he  entered 
the  civil  service.  In  18o?  he  suppressed  brigand- 
age in  Roumelia,  and  was  then  made  a  member  of 
the  ministry.  In  1860  he  was  made  pasha.  After  a 
short  service  as  governor  of  Bulgaria  he  was  made 
grand  vizier.  In  1876  he  took  part  in  deposing 
Abdul  Aziz,  and  again  Murad  V.,  who  was  declared 
insane.  In  1878  he  was  made  governor-general  of 
Syria.  In  1881  he  was  tried  for  complicity  in  the 
murder  of  Abdul  Aziz,  and  was  condemned  to 
death  ;  but  by  diplomatic  intervention  the  sentence 
was  commuted  to  banishment  to  Southern  Arabia, 
wliere  he  died  in  1884. 

MIFFLIN,  Thomas  (1744-1800),  an  American 
soldier.  He  was  in  the  Pennsylvania  legislature  in 
1772-73,  and  in  1774  was  a  delegate  to  tlie  Conti- 
nental Congress.  When  the  news  of  the  fight  at 
Lexington  became  known  he  was  made  major  of 
one  of  the  first  regiments  organized,  and  shortly 
afterward  Washington  chose  him  as  his  first  aid-de 
camp  with  the  rank  of  colonel.  In  1775  he  was 
made  quartermaster-general,  in  1776  brigadier-gen- 
eral, and  in  1777  major-general.  In  1783  he  be- 
came a  member  of  Congress,  and  in  1785  was  in  the 
legislature.  In  1787  he  was  a  delegate  to  the  con- 
vention that  framed  the  United  .'States  constitution, 
and  from  1788  to  1790  was  a  member  of  the  supreme 
executive  council  of  Pennsylvania.  From  1790  to 
1799  he  was  governor  of  the  State,  and  then  till  his 
death  was  a  member  of  the  assembly. 

MIl'"KLINBURG,a  post-borough  of  Union  county, 
Pa.  It  has  manufactories  of  flour  and  lumber,  and 
deposits  of  anthracite  and  bituminous  coal,  lime- 
stone and  iron. 

MIGXE,  J.\CQUES  P.\UL,to  whom  Roman  Catholic 
theology  owes  a  great  debt  of  gratitude,  was  born 
at  St.  FlourinCantal,  Oct.  25,  1800,  and  died  in 
Paris  on  his  seventy-fifth  birthday.  He  was  edu- 
cated at  the  seminary  at  Orleans,  was  ordained 
priest  in  1824,  and  served  some  time  as  curate  at 
Puiseaux  in  the  diocese  of  Orleans.  A  difference 
with  his  bisliop  about  a  lx)ok  on  the  liberty  of  the 
priests  drove  him  to  Paris  in  1833,  where  lie  started 
"L'Univers."  In  1836  he  sold  the  paper,  and  set  up 
a  great  publishing  house  at  Petit  Montrogue,  near 
Paris,  which  gave  to  the  world,  besides  numerous 
•other  works  of  theology,  Scriplnrie  Sacrse  Cursus 
Comphtiis  and  Theologia  Cursus  (each  28  vols.),  Col- 
lectiim  des  Onid-urs  Sacres  (100  vols.),  Pairologia  Cur- 
>h  Compleliis  ( Latin  series  221  vols.,  Ist  Greek  series, 
104  vols.,  2nd  series,  58  vols.),  and  the  Enci/- 
clopedle.  Thenlogique  (171  vols.).  Unfortunately, 
these  editions  were  prepared  too  hastily,  and  do  not 
possess  critical  value.  The  Archbishop  of  Paris, 
thinking  that  the  great  undertaking  had  become  a 
mere  commercial  speculation,  forbade  it  to  be  con- 
tinued, and,  when  the  indefatigable  director  re- 
fused to  obey,  suspended  him.  A  great  fire,  how- 
ever, put  an  end  to  the  work  in  February,  1808. 

;MIGNET,  Francois  Auguste  Alexis  (1796-1884), 
a  great  French  historian,  born  at  Aix  in  Province, 
May  8,  1796,  studied  at  Avignon,  and  then  studied 
law  at  Aix  with  Thiers.  In  1821  he  went  to  Paris, 
and  began  to  write  for  the  Ceiirrier  Franc(iis,!iad  to 
lecture  on  modern  history  at  the  Athenee.  In  the 
spring  of  1824  appeared  his  Histoire  de  la  JRhohUion. 


Franfaise.  Mignet  joined  the  staflf  of  the  National, 
and  with  Thiers  signed  the  famous  protest  of  the 
journalists  on  July  25,  1830.  After  the  revolution 
of  1830  he  became  Keeper  of  the  Archives  at  the 
foreign  olhce  but  lost  ttiis  in  1848.  In  1833  he  went 
on  a  confidential  mission  to  Spain,  and  used  the  op- 
portunity to  explore  the  famous  Simancas  Archives. 
Elected  to  the  Academy  of  Moral  ^^ciences  at  its 
foundation  in  1832.  he  succeeded  Comie  as  its  per- 
petual secretary  in  1837,  and  was  elected  to  fill  Ray- 
nouard's  chair  among  the  Forty  in  ]t^36.  He  died 
March  24,  1884,  within  three  months  of  Henri  ]\!ar- 
tin.  Mignet  was  the  first  great  specialist  in  Irtnch 
history  who  devoted  himself  to  the  complete  s-ludy 
of  particular  periods,  and  in  his  work  he  displayed 
a  marvelous  mastery  of  documents. 

MIKLOSICH,  Feanz  Von,  the  greatest  of  Slavonic 
scholars,  born  at  Luttenberg,  in  the  Slovenian  part 
of  Styria,  Nov.  20,  1813,  died  in  1891.  After  study- 
ing law  at  the  university  of  Gratz,  hewent  in  1838 
to  Vienna  to  practice  as  an  advocate,  but  was  led 
by  Kopitar  to  the  study  of  philology,  and  in  1844 
obtained  a-postin  the  Impfrial  Library.  From  1850 
to  1885,  he  was  professor  of  Slavonic  at  Vienna,  in 
1851  being  elected  to  the  academy  of  science:  and 
in  1869  made  a  "Ritter."  His  works,  nearly  thirty 
in  number,  include  Eadices  Lhigvse  Polacoskixenicm; 
Lfxicon  Linguae  Faloposlorenicie;  ]'(rglfichende 
Orammatik  der  Slawischen  Syrachev  (4  vols.),  which 
have  done  for  Slavonic  what  Grimm  and  Diez  have 
done  for  the  German  and  the  Romance  languages; 
JJie  Bildang  der  Slavnschen  Personettamen;  Leber 
die  Mundarien  xmd  die  Waridennigrn  der  Ziyevner 
Enropas  (12  parts)  ;  Rvmanische  Vntersuchungen,  and 
Etymologlsches   ^^'iirterbuch   der  Slavischen  Sprachen. 

MILAN,  the  county-seat  cf  Sullivan  county.  Mo., 
250  miles  northwest  of  St.  Louis.  It  has  deposits 
of  fireclay,  mineral  paint,  building-stone,  and  coal, 
and  contains  a  woolen  mill,  flour-mills,  and  coop- 
erage. 

MILAN,  a  railroad  junction  of  Gibson  county, 
Tenn.,  ninety  miles  northeast  of  Memphis.  It  has 
cotton  and  plaining  mills,  a  bigh-Echcol  and  a 
college. 

MILEAGE,  in  the  United  States,  fees  paid  to  offi- 
cials, and  in  particular  to  members  of  Congress,  for 
their  traveling  expenses,  at  so  much  per  mile. 
There  is  a  fixed  table  of  mileage,  and  the  largest 
allowance  paid  is  .$1,440;  the  total  annual  cost,  for 
both  houses  of  Congress,  is  nearly  ^150,000.  In 
all  countries  of  Europe,  except  Britain,  the  same 
system  prevails  with  regard  to  members  of  the 
popular  chambers,  at  least,  they  being  paid  either 
their  traveling  expenses  or  a  fixed  annual  sum. 

MILES,  Nelson  Appleton,  an  American  soldier, 
born  in  1839.  In  1861  he  entered  the  volunteer 
service  of  the  United  States  as  lieutenant,  and  in 
1862  became  lieutenant-colonel,  the  same  year 
colonel,  brigadier-general  in  1864,  and  major-gen- 
eral in  1865.  He  became  colonel  in  the  regular 
Army  in  1866,  and  served  in  this  capacity  till  the 
endofthewar.  He  then  served  on  frontier  duty 
until  1880,  when  he  was  made  brigadier-general  and 
placed  in  command  of  the  department  of  the  Col- 
umbia. In  1885  he  was  assigned  to  the  department 
of  the  Missouri,  and  in  1886  was  transferred  to  Ari- 
zona. 

MILFORD,  a  post-village  and  seaport  of  Kew 
Haven  county.  Conn.,  on  Long  Island  Sound.  It 
manufactures  straw  goods.     Population,  3.800. 

MILFORD,  a  post-borough  of  Kent  county,  Del., 
on  Mispillion  River.  It  is  a  shipping  point  for  farm 
and  orchard  produce. 

MILFORD,  a  post-village  of  Oakland  county, 
Mich.,  thirty-five  miles  northwest  of  Detroit.  It  has 
a  foundry  and  several  manufactories. 


1078 


M  I  L  F  0  11  h  —  :\i  1  L  K 


MILFORD,  a  post-village  of  Hillaboroiigh  county, 
N.  H.,  fifty  miles  north  of  Boston,  to  which  city  it 
ships  l!-0,000  gallons  of  milk  annually.  It  has  man- 
ufactories of  picture  and  mirror  frames,  tassels, 
furniture,  men's  boots  and  shoes,  and  knitting- 
cotton.     Here  are  granite  quarries. 

MILITARY  LAW.  See  Articles  op  War  in 
these  Revisions  and   Additions. 

MILITELLO,  a  town  of  Sicily,  twenty-one  miles 
southwest  of  Catania.     Population,  10,505. 

MILITIA,  (from  Latin  Miles,  a  soldier),  has  now 
the  acquired  meaning  of  the  domestic  force  for  the 
defense  of  a  nation,  as  distinguished  from  the  regu- 
lar army,  wliicli  can  be  employed  at  home  or 
abroad  in  either  aggressive  or  defensive  operations. 
Every  nation  has  a  reserve,  under  its  military  law, 
upon  which  its  defense  would  fall  on  the  discomfi- 
ture of  the  regular  army  ;  but  the  system  differs  in 
each  country,  and  with  ttie  exception  perhaps  of 
the  United  States  during  peace,  none  are  formed 
on  the  model  of  the  British  militia.  The  United 
States  militia  is  only  national  when  in  the  actual 
service  of  the  United  States  Government.  Congress 
has  constitutional  power  to  provide  for  the  organiza- 
tion and  equipmentof  such  troopsduring  such  time, 
and  the  President  is  then  commander-in-chief,  and 
is  empowered  to  call  them  out  by  orders  to  the  offi- 
cers appointed  by  the  respective  States;  while  so 
employed  they  receive  the  pay,  rations,  etc.,  of  the 
regular  army.  Various  acts  of  Congress  require 
the  enrollment  of  all  non-exempted  able-bodied 
male  citizens  between  18  and  45,  in  every  State,  and 
prescribe  the  manner  of  organization,  discipline, 
etc.  The  actual  or  organized  militia  consisted  of, 
in  1875: 

General  officers 119 

General  Staff  officers 88.S 

Regimental,  Field,  and  Staff  officers l.UCS 

Company  officers 4,008 

Non-commissioned,    including   musicians    and   pri- 
vates    78.649 

Aggregate 84,724 

The  regularly  organized  and  uniformed  active 
militia  of  the  several  States  in  the  year  1885  aggre- 
gated 8-1,739  men  ;  in  the  year  188(5  the  number  was 
92,7.^4;  in  1887  it  had  increased  to  100,837,  and  in 
1888  it  had  an  available  force  of  106,814  men. 

According  to  the  laws  of  several  of  the  States, 
the  State-militia  is  required  to  go  into  camp  for 
one  week  in  each  year.  During  this  time  the  men 
have  to  conduct  themselves  like  troops  of  the  regu- 
lar army.  When  ever  the  State  authorities  request 
it,  officers  of  the  regular  array  are  detailed  to  in- 
spect these  encampments  and  give  instruction  to 
tiie  militia.  These  officers  make  afterwards  minute 
reports  of  the  results  of  their  observations  to  the 
adjutant-general  of  the  United  States  army.  Dur- 
ing the  year  ending  Sept.  30,  1888,  such  encamp- 
meut.s  were  hold  in  fifteen  States,  including  among 
them  the  tliree  largest  in  the  Union. 

MILK  CELLARS.  A  cellar  dug  to  the  depth  of 
twelve  feet,  and  having  a  sub-cellar  beneath  the 
upper  one  is  believed  to  be  the  best  for  milk,  in 
either  summer  or  winter.  There  is  acertain  depth 
in  the  soil  where  tlie  temperature  is  even  llirough 
the  whole  year.  This  point  varies  very  little  from 
seven  feet  from  tlie  surface,  and  below  this  an  ex- 
cavation from  which  the  air  can  be  excluded  will 
be  tlie  best  place  for  a  cellar  for  keeping  articles 
which  are  perishable  in  a  warm  temperature.  Such 
a  cellar  makes  safe  storage  for  fruits  and  vegeta- 
bles or  for  those  domestic  supplies  which  re{|uire 
such  protection.  It  can  easily  be  kept  safe  from 
dampness  by  means  of  a  small  quantity  of  quick- 
lime in  a  dish,    which   will  absorb   the   moiu^ture; 


1 


and  the  purity  of  the  air  may  be  preserved  by 
washing  the  brick  or  stone  walls  with  fresh  lime 
occasionally.  Tlie  upper  part  of  the  cellar  will  af- 
ford every  convenience  for  the  dairy-work,  as 
churning,  etc.  No  part  that  is  below  the  surface 
and  in  contact  with  the  soil,  should  be  made  of 
timber. 

MILK,  Adulteration  of.  For  general  article 
on  Milk,  see  Britannica,  Vol.  XVI,  pp.  301-306.  The 
adulteration  of  milk  has  re- 
cently for  obvious  reasons,  be-  j.ji ^j,* 

come  a  question  of  great  im- 
portance especially  in  the 
United  States.  In  order  to  fur- 
nish the  reader  with  a  practical 
as  well  as  scholarly  discussion 
as  to  the  principal  methods  used 
in  this  country  in  testing  the 
quality  of  milk,  we  insert  by 
permission  some  interesting 
notes  from  a  recent  paper  by  .fs-fTigl-it!' — r.oxt 
Henry  A.  JMott,  Jr.  E.  M.,  Ph. 
D.  of  New  York,  published  in 
the  Scientific  Ann'rican*  Dr.  ^;  i^j. 
Mott  first  invites  attention  to  I/jd-j]^ 
the  chief  appliances  for  delect- 
ing the  adulteration  of  milk. 

The  Centesimal  Galactojie- 
TEK  was  inventedby  iJinocourt : 
it  is  shown  in  the  figure.  The 
stem  of  the  instrument  has  two 
scales:  one  for  pure  milk,  the 
other  for  skimmed  milk ;  the 
scale  A,  in  part  colored  yelloir^ 
serves  to  weigh  the  milk  with 
its  cream ;  the  first  degree  on 
the  top  of  the  scale  is  marked 
50,  which  corresponds  to  the  sp. 
gr.  1-014.  The  following  marks 
extend  from  50  to  100  (sp.  gr. 
l'OL'9),  and  over.  Each  degree  ■ 
starting  from  one  hundred  in 
mounting  up  to  50,  represents  a 
hundredth  of  pure  milk;  the  degrees  formed  by  a 
line  are  equal,  as  50,  52,  54,  etc. ;  the  degrees  formed 
by  a  dot  are  unequal,  as  81,83,  85,  etc.  To  illus- 
trate by  an  example:  If  the  galactometer  is  sunk 
to  the  85th  degree,  that  will  indicate  85hundredtlis 
of  pure  milk,  and  consequently  that  15  hundredths 
of  water  has  been  added  to  this  milk  ;  if  sunk  to  60 
degrees, that  will  indicate  40  hundredths  of  water, 
or  four-tenths  of  water  added.  If  it  is  desired  to 
count  by  tenths,  it  is  only  necessary  to  notice  that 
the  first  tenth  is  white,  that  the  second  is  colored 
yellow,  the  third  white,  the  fourth  yellow,  and 
that  the  fifth  is  also  white;  toward  the  middle  of 
each  tenth  the  figures  1,  2  3,  4,  5  are  placed  to  in- 
dicate their  order. 

The  scale,  o,  is  in  part  colored  blue,  and  is  des- 
tined to  weigh  skim  milk;  it  is,  like  the  first,  di- 
vided into  hundredths  (100  degrees),  of  which  the 
first  50  have  been  cut  off  as  useless,  as  in  the  case 
of  the  other  scale,  each  degree  commenoing  from 
100  to  50  and  mounting  upwards  represents  a  hun- 
dredth of  pure  skimmed  milk,  consequently  the 
mannerof  estimating  the  quantity  of  water  added 
to  skim  milk  is  absolutely  the  same  as  for  pure 
milk  with  cream.  The  degree  130  corresponds  to  a 
specific  gravity  1'038,  the  degree  120  to  T035,  the 
degree  110  to  r032,  the  rf,v/)v<-  100,  >ehieh  t.-^  the 
Htiiuddi-d,  to  1-029,  the  degree  80  to  1-023,  the  degree 
70  to  1020,  the  degree  60  to  101 7  and  the  degree  50 
to  1014. 

*  For  an  extended  discnsK'on  of  the  suhjoot  the  profession- 
al inquirer  is  referred  to  Suiuntiflc  American  in  loc. 


M  I  L  K 


1079 


a 


iP 


Another  Centesimal  Galactometer  was  invented 
by  Chevallier;  it  is  similar  to  the  above  instrument. 
It  serves  to  determine  the  specific  gravity  of  cream, 
millt,  and  skimmed  milk.  This  instrument  is  used 
in  connection  with  the  creamometer.  The  specific 
gravity  of  the  milk  not  skimmed  is  first  deter- 
mined, noting  the  temperature,  then  the  volume 
of  cream  is  ascertained  by  means  of  the  cream- 
ometer, and  finally  the  specific  gravity  of  the 
skimmed  milk  is  determined,  noting  the  tempera- 
ture. 

from  the  data  obtained,  by  referring  to  tables 
compiled  by  Chevallier,  the  additional  water  con- 
te  itiiof  the  milk  is  ascertained. 

The  fjAt'ToDEsiMETBR. — This  is  an  instrument  dif- 
eriri .'  from  the  galactometer  just  described  only  in 
the  division  of  its  scale.  It  is  the  pro- 
duction of  Bouchardat  andQuevenne,  and 
is  represented  in  the  figure.  This  instru- 
ment, like  all  the  densimeters,  gives  im- 
mediately and  without  calculation  the 
density  of  the  liquid  in  which  it  is  plung- 
ed; its  scale  comprises  only  the  densities 
which  may  be  presented  by  pure  or  adul- 
terated milk.  The  shaft  bears  three  dis- 
tinct graduations.  The  first,  which  is  the 
fp  middle  one  in  the  figures,  contains  the 
whole  numbers  intermediate  between  14 
and  42.     In  reality,  the  whole   numbers 

comprised  between  1014  and  1042  ought 

^  ^^  to  be  inscribed;  but  on  account  of  the 
»lNti  small  size  of  the  shaft  the  two  first  figures 
have  been  suppressed  which  do  not  change. 
If,  consequently,  the  instrument  is  sunk 
in  a  liquid  up  to  the  figure  29,  this  signi- 
fies that  a  litre  of  thismilk  weighs  1029 
grams,  and  that  its  density  is  conse- 
nuently  1029.  The  instrument  has  been 
graduated  for  the  temperature  of  -r  15° 
C.  It  is  necessary,  therefore,  for  obtain- 
ing an  f.rnct  indication,  to  be  assured  the 
liquid  under  examination  is  at  this  tem- 
perature. In  the  contrary  case,  it  may 
be  brought  back  to  this  degree  by  plung- 
ing tlie  gauge  containing  the  milk  in 
water  tliat  is  cold,  or  in  lukewarm  water, 
according  as  the  thermometer  is  above  or 
below  -f  15°.  The  scale  on  the  right  i.s 
employed  when  it  is  certain  that  tlie  milk  acted  on 
is  not  skimmed.  This  scale  shows  what  are  the 
variations  of  tlie  density  of  milk  in  proportion  as 
water  is  added,  and  the  figures  yo,  x^s,  etc.,  indicates 
that  the  liquid  operated  upon  has  been  mixed  with 
this  proportion  of  water.  The  scale  on  the  left 
contains  the  same  indications  relative  to  skimmed 
milk.  Milk  is  marked  pure  on  this  instrument,  be- 
tween the  specific  gravities  1030  and  1034,  skimmed 
milk  is  marked  pure  between  the  gravities  1034 
and  1037. 

The  Lactometer.  The  original  lactometer  was 
discovered  by  Prof.  Edmund  Davys  in  1S21.  It  is 
represented  in  the  figure.  It  is  made  of  brass,  and 
consists  of  a  pear-shaped  bulb,  at  the  top  of  which 
is  a  graduated  stem,  and  at  the  bottom  a  brass 
wire,  to  the  end  of  which  a  weight  is  screwed.  This 
instrument  is  only  intended  for  skimmed  milk,  and 
the  0  mark  corresponds  to  the  sp.  gr.  10.35,  which, 
according  to  Davy's  experiments,  represents  the 
lightest  genuine  skimmed  milk.  The  dots  in  the 
figures,  which  extend  from  0  to  35,  indicate  parts 
of  water  in  100  parts  skimmed  milk  at  60°. 

Who  invented  the  lactometer  for  testing  milk  I  am 
unable  to  ascertain  ;  one  thing  is  certain,  however, 
the  one  who  first  divided  the  scale  from  0  water  to 
100  pure  milk  was,  of  course,  the  inventor.  Of  the 
various  lactometers  that  have  been  in  use,  the  only 


difiference  was  the  specific  gravity  represented  by 
the  100  degree  of  the  scale.  The  specific  gravity 
corresponding  to  the  100  degree  on  the  centesimal 
galactometer  invented  by  Dinocourt,  as  I  have 
already  stated,  was  1029,  which  was  intended  to 
represent  the  proper  minimum.  This  sp.  gr.  has 
been  adopted  by  the  Board  of  Health  of  New  York 
as  the  standard  for  their  lactometers. 

The  old  standard  adopted  by  tlie  milk  dealer  was 
1.030;  this  was  changed  by  Dr.  Chilton  to  10.34,  and 
has  gradually  dropped  to  1033.  So  that  the  stand- 
ard now  employed  by  the  milk  dealers  to  secure  for 
thernseh-es  pure  milk  is  0004  higher  than  that 
adopted  by  the  Board  of  Health. 

In  graduating  the  board  of  health  lactometer 
shown  in  the  figure,  the  100°  is  placed  at  the  stand- 
ard 1  029,  and  0  at  1  000,  the  gravity  of  water,  the 
intermediate  spaces  being  divided  into  100  equal 
divisions.  Great  care  should  be  taken  to  deter- 
mine with  absolute  accuracy 
the  0  degree  and  the  100  de- 
gree; other  points  may  also 
be  determined,  but  they  are 
not  alisolutely  necessary  if 
the  space  is  properly  divided. 


-  e—^ju 


The  point  to  which  the  lactometer  sinks  ia 
the  milk  under  examination  indicates  the  per- 
centage of  milk  in  100  parts.  Thus,  if  the 
lactometer  sinks  to  80,  the  milk  must  consist 
of,  at  least,  20  per  cent,  of  water  and  80  of  milk. 
This  assumes  the  original  milk  to  have  had  a  speci- 
fic gravity  of  1029;  but,  if  the  milk  had  originally 
a  gravity  of  1  034,  it  would  require  1667  per  cent, 
of  water  to  bring  it  down  to  1  "029,  and  20  per  cent, 
more  water  to  lower  it  to  80°  on  the  lactometer. 
The  temperature  at  which  examinations  are  made 
with  the  lactometer  should  be  60  F.,  for  exact  de- 
terminations, as  the  instrument  is  graduated  for 
that  temperature.  If  it  is  only  necessary  to  estab- 
lish the  fact  of  an  adulteration  by  water,  the  milk 
may  be  cooled  to  a  temperature  below  60°  F.,  which. 


1080 


MILKWORT  S 


an  expert  can  easily  ascertain  by  the  sense  of  taste, 
etc. — tlie  lower  the  milk  is  cooled  the  more  dense 
it  becomes  ;  consequently,  if  tlie  lactometer  should 
sink  below  100  in  a  sample  of  milk  known  to  be  be- 
low 60°  F.,  suilicient  evidence  to  establish  the  fart 
of  its  adulteration  is  indicated.  A  sample  of  milk 
tested  by  Dr.  Chandler,  of  New  Vork,  which  stood 
at  100  by  the  lactometer  at  60°  F.,  was  found  to 
stand  at  106  at  44°  F.,  at  98  at  66°  F.,  at  90  at  80° 
P.,  and  at  74  at  100°  F. 

V.\LrE  OP  THE  Degrees  of  the  Board  of  Health 

Lactometer  in  Specific  Gravity. — By 

Dr.  Waller. 


c 

C 

c 

% 

"S 

^ 

i 

Gravity. 

a 

Gravity. 

a 

Gravity 

a 

Gravity. 

^3 

§ 

1 

§ 

% 

'-' 

J 

1  '-' 

►J 

0 

1-00000 

31 

1-00899 

61 

1-01769 

91 

1-02639 

1 

1-00O29 

.32 

1-00928 

62 

1-01798 

92 

1-02668 

2 

1-00058 

33 

1-00957 

63 

1-018-27 

93 

1-02697 

3 

1-00087 

34 

1-00986 

64 

1-01856 

94 

1-02726 

4 

1-00116 

35 

1-01015 

65 

1- 01885 

95 

1-02755 

5 

1-00145 

36 

1-01044 

66 

1-01914 

96 

102784 

6 

1-00174 

37 

1-01073 

67 

1-01943 

97 

1-02813 

7 

1-00203 

38 

1-01102 

68 

1-01972 

98 

1-02842 

S 

100232 

39 

1-01131 

69 

1-02001 

99 

1-02871 

9 

1-00261 

40 

101160 

70 

1-02030 

100 

1-02900 

10 

1-00290 

41 

1-01189 

71 

1-02059 

101 

1-02929 

11 

1-20319 

42 

1-01218 

72 

1-02088 

102 

1-02958 

12 

1-00348 

43 

1-01-247 

73 

1-U2U7 

103 

1-02987 

13 

1-00377 

44 

1-01-276 

74 

1-02146 

104 

1-03016 

14 

1-00406 

45 

1-01305 

75 

1-02175 

105 

1-0.3045 

15 

1-00435 

46 

1-013.34 

76 

1-02204 

106 

1-03074 

16 

1-00464 

47 

1-01303 

77 

1-02233 

107 

1-03103 

17 

1-00493 

48 

1-01392 

78 

1-02262 

108 

1-03132 

18 

1-00522 

49 

1-01421 

79 

1-0-2291 

109 

1-03161 

19 

1-00551 

50 

1-01450 

80 

1-02:520 

110 

103190 

20 

1-00580 

51 

1-01479 

81 

1-02M9 

HI 

1-03219 

21 

1-OOS09 

52 

1-01508 

82 

1-02378 

112 

1-03248 

22 

1-00638 

,53 

1-01537 

S3 

1.02107 

113 

1-03-277 

23 

1-00667 

54 

1-01.566 

M 

1-02436 

114 

1-03306 

24 

1-00696 

55 

1-01595 

85 

1-0-2465 

115 

1-03335 

25 

1-00725 

56 

1-016-24 

86 

1-02494 

116 

1-03364 

26 

1-00754 

57 

1-01653 

87 

1-02523 

117 

1-03393 

27 

1-007*3 

58 

1-01682 

88 

1-0-2.552 

118 

1-03122 

28 

1-00812 

59 

1-01711 

89 

1-02581 

119 

1-03151 

29 

1-00841 

60 

1-01740 

90 

1-02610 

120 

1-03480 

30 

1-00870 

The  following  table  by  De  Voelcker  (with  an  ad- 
dition by  Dr.  Chandler,  of  the  2d  column),  illus- 
trates the  effects  of  watering  and  skimming: 


UNSKIMMED.  SKIMMED. 

Sp.  Gr.  Lact.  Sp.  Gr.  Lact. 

Pure  milk 1-0314  108  1-0337  117 

10  per  ceut.  water  added..  1-0295  102  1-0308  106 

20        "                "              "      .  .  1-0257  88  1-0265  91 

30        "                •'               "      ..  10233  80  1-0248  86 

40        "                "              "      ..  1-0190  66  10208  72 

50        "               "              "     ..  1-0163  56  10176  60 

Thus  it  is  seen  that  with  a  sample  of  pure  milk  of 
sp.  gr.  1-0.314  more  than  10  per  cent,  of  water 
could  be  added  before  the  gravity  is  reduced  to 
rOL'9  or  100  on  the  lactometer;  and  after  skimming, 
considerable  more. 

That  tlie  specific  gravity  1-029,  is  the  true  minimum 
standard  for  yure  whole  cdiu's  milk,  I  think  I  have 
already  fully  demonstrated,  yet  it  is  interesting  to 
bear  in  mind  that  it  has  been  confirmed  by 
"Miiller,  Fleischmann,  Goppelsroeder,  Kramer,  and 
other  specialists." 

Miiller  says :  "From  more  than  6,000  notes  by 
Quevenne  and  Bouchardat,  the  minimum  is  1029, 
and  the  maximum  1-033.  For  the  hospitals  and 
puljlio  institutions  in  Paris,  the  minimum  is  10.30-" 
He  further  says:  "If,"  .  .  .  "we  go  through  all 
Europe,  from   country   to  country,  from    place  to 


place,  from  dairy  to  dairy,  from  Alp  toAiii,  with 
the  lactodensimeter  in  hand,  and  mix  at  times  the 
milk  of  several  cows  together  which  have  been 
milked  under  conditions  sufficiently  touched  upon, 
we  shall  find  that  tlie  milk  which  is  divided  as  a 
trade  commodity  from  the  physiological  milk 
weighs  between  f029  and  fOSS." 

Let  us  consider,  noiv,  if  there  are  any  objections 
to  the  use  of  the  standard  lactometers  for  the  de- 
tection of  adulteration.  I  have  already  stated  that 
a  samjile  of  perfectly  pure  cow's  milk,  possessing  a 
high  specific  gravity,  can  be  considerably  addi- 
tioned  with  water,  and  the  lactometer  is  unable  to 
detect  the  fraud.  The  question  naturally  arises,  is 
there  any  method  by  \vhich  the  fraud  can  be  de- 
tected? The  ans-wer  comes,  unfortunately,  vo — 
owing  to  the  variation  in  the  proportion  of  each 
constituent,  a  proper  margin  has  to  be  left  for  the 
maximum  and  minimum  proportions,  and  between 
these  limits  the  fraud  can  be  perpetrated,  and 
defy  all  science  to  detect  it. 

Milk  may  be  skimmed,  -which  will  increase'the 
specific  gravity  of  the  fluid  ;  it  may  then  be  water- 
ed, and  the  sp.  gr.  reduced  to  the  standard  of  the 
lactometer,  or  the  sp.  gr.  may  be  still  further  re- 
duced, and  by  the  addition  of  some  solid  substances, 
such  as  sugar  or  salts,  increased  to  the  standard 
specific  gravity.  The  question  naturally  arises 
here,  can  the  lactometer  detect  such  adulteration? 
To  answer  this  question  -ue  must  first  inquire  into 
the  method  adopted,  where  the  lactometer  is  used 
to  detect  adulteration.  It  is  to  be  supposed  (hat 
an  expert  commissioned  to  examine  milk  for  adul- 
teration, using  as  a  means,  the  lactometer,  will 
perform  the  testwhicli  is  to  be  made,  in  connection 
with  the  senses,  that  is  to  say,  the  sample  under 
examination  should  be  examined  as  to  its  opaque- 
ness and  color,  its  taste  and  odor,  etc.  If  on  the 
contrary,  he  performs  the  task  automatically, 
simply  taking  the  degree  of  the  instrument,  noting 
the  temperature,  without  examining  the  sample 
otherwise,  the  lactometer  itself  will  not  detect  such 
adulteration;  but  such  an  experimenter  is  not  fit 
or  competent  to  make  such  investigations,  for,  no 
matter  -what  the  method  of  examination  may  be, 
the  common  sense  is  always  required  to  accomplish 
the  obi'ect  in  view.  I  say  v  lih(nit  fear  of  si  ccessfvl 
vohiraeliction,  that  if  the  lactometer  is  used  in 
connection  with  the  senses,  that  is  to  say,  regard- 
ing the  flow  of  milk  from  the  bulb  ofthe  instru- 
ment, observing  its  opacity  and  color,  as  also  ex- 
amining as  to  flavor  and  odor  of  the  sample  under 
examination,  the  lactometer  will  detect  all  the 
practical  frauds  perpetrated  hii  milknwii.  In  my 
opinion  there  is  not  one  unprejudiced  person,  with 
the  experience  and  education  tliat  the  milk  expert 
should  have,  that  cannot  distinguish  a  fair  sample 
of  pure  milk  from  a  fair  sample  of  skimmed  milk 
or  cream ;  and  if  such  is  tlie  case,  how  readily 
could  be  detected  an  adulterated  sample. 

In  the  first  part  of  this  paper  I  stated  that  the 
indications  of  the  lactometer  are  infallible;  this  is 
the  case,  for  if  a  sample  of  milk  should  indicate  a 
degree  less  than  the  standard,  there  is  indisputable 
evidence  that  the  sample  has  been  t:impered  w-ith. 
:\nLKAVOKTS  (so  called  from  the  milky  juice), 
various  species  of  plants  belonging  to  the  natural 
order  I'dli/rjalcr  or  Pohj<jolacra:  The  order  com- 
prises about  twenty  genera  and  500  species  which 
are  widely  distributed  over  the  trojiical  and  sub- 
tropical world  ;  several  species  are  natives  of  North 
America  and  Europe.  They  are  herbaceous  plants 
or  shrubby.  The  leaves  are  usually  simple  and 
destitute  of  stipules;  the  flowers  irregular.  They 
are  generally  tonic  and  slightly  acrid,  and  some 
are     very     astringent.      The    common     Milkwort 


.M  1  T.  L  —  M  I  L  I  T  A  R  Y    ACADEMIES 


1081 


(Polygala  vulgaris)  is  a  small  perennial  plant,  with 
an  ascending  stem,  linear-lanceolate  leaves,  and  a 
terminal  raceme  of  small  beautiful  dowers.  It 
varies  in  sine  and  in  the  flowers  and  leaves.  P. 
Senega  is  a  North  American  species,  with  erect 
simple  tufted  stems  about  one  foot  high,  and  ter- 
minal racemes  of  white  flowers.  The  root  is  the 
Snake  Root  of  the  United  States,  famous  as  an 
imaginary  cure  for  snake-bites,  but  really  possess- 
ing important  medicinal  virtues.  See  Britannica, 
Vol.  XXI,  p.  189.  The  root  of  P.  poaya,  a  Brazilian 
species  with  leathery  leaves,  is  an  active  emetic. 
P.  tincloria,  a  native  of  Arabia,  furnishes  a  blue 
dye  like  indigo.  Another  medicinal  plant  of  the 
order  is  the  Kattany  Root. 

MILL.     See  Britannica,  Vol.  IX.,  pp.  343-47. 

MILL  (Lat.  niille,  a  thousand),  in  the  United 
States,  the  tenth  part  of  a  cent  the  thousandth  part 
of  a  dollar.    As  a  coin  it  has  no  existence. 

MILLAIS,  Sir  John  Everett,  a  celebrated  Eng- 
lish painter,  born  at  Southampton,  .Tune  8,1829,  the 
descendant  of  an  ancient  .Jersey  family.  In  the 
winter  of  1838-39  Millais  began  to  attend  the  draw- 
ing academy  of  Henry  Sass,  passing,  two  years 
later,  into  the  schools  of  the  Royal  Academy.  At 
the  age  of  seventeen  he  exhibited  at  the  Royal 
Academy  his  "Pizarro  seizing  the  Inca  of  Peru," 
ranked  by  competent  critics  of  the  day  as  on  a 
level  with  the  best  historical  subjects  then  shown. 
His  first  pre-Raphselite  picture,  a  scene  from  the 
Isabella  of  Keats,  strongly  recalling  the  manner  of 
the  early  Flemish  and  Italian  masters,  figured  in 
the  Academy  in  1849.  In  1856  he  was  elected  an 
Associate  of  the  Royal  Academy,  and  soon  after- 
wards he  exhibited  three  of  the  richest  and  most 
poetic  of  the  productions  of  his  pre-llaphaelite 
period,  namely,  the  Anttimn  Leaves  in  1856,  the 
Sir  Isumbras  at  the  Ford  in  1857,  and  The  Vale  of 
Rest  in  1859.  In  the  finer  of  the  works  which  fol- 
lowed, the  precision  and  clear  definition  of  pre- 
Rapha;lite  methods  still  survive ;  but  in  the  ex- 
quisite Gambler's  ir/Jc  tiiere  became  visible  a  larger 
and  freer  method  of  handling,  wliich  is  yet  more 
fully  established  in  The  Boyhood  of  Raleigh,  a  pic- 
ture which  marks  the  transition  of  his  art  into 
its  final  and  most  masterly  phase,  displaying  all 
the  brilliant  and  efifective  coloring,  the  effortless 
power  of  brush-work,  and  the  delicacy  of  flesh- 
painting,  in  which  he  is  without  a  modern  rival. 
Millais  has  executed  a  few  etchings,  and  his  innu- 
merable illustrations,  dating  from  about  1857  to 
1864,  place  him  in  the  very  fir.st  rank  of  woodcut  de- 
signers. He  is  a  D.  C.  L.  of  Oxford ;  in  1885  he  was 
created  a  baronet. 

MILBURX,  Wn.Li.\.M  Henry,  an  American  cler- 
gyman, born  in  Philadelphia,  Sept.  26,  1823.  When 
a  boy,  although  of  defective  sight,  he  studied  at  Illi- 
nois College  ;  at  the'  age  of  20  became  a  Methodist 
preacher ;  was  chaplain  to  Congress ;  in  1859  went  to 
England  and  lectured  with  success  ;  on  his  return 
was  ordained  in  the  P.  E.  Church,  but  in  1872  re- 
turned to  Methodism.  He  is  widely  known  as  the 
"blind  preacher,"  and  has  published  some  able 
works. 

MILITARY  ACADEMIES.  The  Military  Acad- 
emy  of  the  United  States  is  at  West  Point,  N.  Y.,  on 
the  Hudson  River.  It  was  founded  by  act  of  Con- 
gress, March  16,1802.  At  first  it  consisted  of  fifty 
cadets,  forty  of  them  being  attached  to  the  artil- 
lery and  ten  to  the  engineer  service.  This  was  the 
nurleus  to  which  various  additions  were  made  until 
1812,  when  the  institution  became  substantially 
what  it  is  at  present.  Tlie  staff  of  instruction  and 
government  consists  of,  1.  The  superintendent  of 
instruction  and  military  staff;  2.  The  comman- 
dant of  cadets  and  six  assistants;  3.  eight  non-com- 


missioned officers,  and  one  professor  with  thirty- 
two  assistants.  Each  Congressional  district  and 
territory  is  entitled  to  one  cadetship,  and  the  Pres- 
ident appoints  ten  cadets  annually,  who  must  be 
between  the  ages  of  17  and  22.  Tliose  admitted 
bind  themselves,  by  special  articles,  to  serve  the 
United  States  for  eight  years  unless  sooner  dis- 
charged. The  course  of  study,  which  is  very 
thorough,  especially  in  the  mathematical  depart- 
ment occupies  four  years,  and  the  discipline,  in- 
tended to  secure  habits  of  prompt,  implicit  obedi- 
ence to  lawful  authority,  as  well  as  habits  of  neat- 
ness, order  and  regularity,  is  more  strict  even  than 
that  of  the  army,  or  that  in  any  similar  institution. 
At  graduation  the  class  is  divided  into  three  grades, 
according  to  scholarship,  and  recommended  for 
promotion,  according  to  this  schedule,  in  different 
corps,  and  commissions  for  the  rank  of  second  lieu- 
tenant conferred. 

In  order  to  superadd  a  special  professional  train- 
ing for  the  graduates  of  the  military  academy,  and 
also  to  give  the  needed  opportunity  to  those  who 
have  received  their  commissions  from  civil  life  or 
from  the  ranks  of  the  army,  post-graduate  schools 


WEST   POINT   PARADE  GROUNDS. 

have  been  opened  at  Fortress  Monroe,  Fort  Leav- 
enworth, and  at  Willet's  Point.  These  schools  are 
also  maintained  by  the  United  States  government. 
The  School  at  Fortress  Monroe,  la.,  was  commenced 
in  1867.  It  has  a  two-years' course.  It  is  intended 
for  subalterns  of  artillery,  yet  officers  of  other 
arms  of  the  service  have,  by  special  permission  of 
the  secretary  of  war,  been  educated  there.  The 
School  at  Fort  Leaeenworth,  Kan.,  began  in  18S2.  It 
is  designed  for  the  training  of  infantry  and  cavalry 
officers.  The  School  at  Willet's  Point,  iV.  }'.,  was  es- 
tablished in  1865.  It  is  intended  for  the  education 
of  officers  of  the  engineer  corps  and  also  of  artillery 
officery.  The  course  is  for  two  years.  Special  at- 
tention is  given  to  permanent  works,  their  con- 
struction and  management;  also  to  torpedoes  and 
the  electrical  service. 

Other  Milit-^ry  Colleges  and  Schools. — The 
most  notable  military  school  maintained  by  a  State 
is  the  Virginia  Military  Institute.  It  ranks  next  to 
the  United  States  Academy.  This  school  is  located 
at  Lexington,  Va.  It  has  eight  professors,  and  is 
modelled  after  the  West  Point  school  in  its  general 
plan,  instruction  and  discipline.  It  has  usually 
about  1.50  students. 

The  Kentucky  Military  Institute  is  simil&T.  It  has 
its  existence  since  1846,  first  at  Frankfort,  and  now" 


1082 


I\I  I  L  L  B  R  0  0  K  —  .M  I  L  N  E  -  E  D  W  A  R  D  S 


at  Farmdale,  Ky.  It  has  eleven  professors  and  in- 
structs usually  about  130  students.  There  are  a 
number  of  other  military  schools,  especially  in  the 
southern  States ;  some  are  also  maintained  pri- 
vately in  New  York,  INIassachusetts,  Vermont,  Penn- 
sylvania, Ohio,  and  Michigan. 

Since  1883  the  general  government  details  forty 
non-commissioned  officers  of  the  army  to  act  as  pro- 
fessors of  military  science  and  tactics  at  certain 
designated  colleges  which  had  accepted  from  the 
United  States  certain  grants  of  land  for  education- 
al purposes.  It  had  been  stipulated  in  the  grants, 
and  made  obligatory  upon  each  college  so  helped, 
to  embrace  military  training  in  its  course  of  in- 
struction. These  officers  are  distributed  among 
the  several  States  as  nearly  as  possible  according 
to  the  population.  Recently,  however.  State  insti- 
tutions which  introduce  a  military  branch  of  in- 
struction are  preferred  in  the  distribution  of  these 
military  instructors. 

During  the  year  ending  Sept.  30,  1888,  forty  insti- 
tutions in  different  parts  of  the  Union  availed 
themselves  of  the  opportunity  of  giving  instruction 
in  military  science,  with  practice  in  military  drill, 
to  such  of  their  pupils  as  chose  to  receive  it.  The 
whole  number  of  students  over  15  years  of  age  at- 
tending these  institutions  was  7,791.  Of  this  num- 
ber about  4,000,  or  51  per  cent.,  attended  infantry 
drill.  During  the  previous  year  the  same  system 
had  been  pursued.  The  total  number  of  students 
was,  however,  less,  and  only  49  per  cent,  had  at- 
tended the  drills.  This  shows  that  the  interest  of 
the  students  in  military  matters  is  increasing. 

MILLBROOK,  a  manufacturing  town  of  Durham 
county,  Ontario,  eighteen  miles  from  Port  Hope. 

MILLBURY,  a  post-village  and  railroad  junction 
of  AVorcester  county,  Mass.,  on  Blackstone  River, 
six  miles  south  of  Worcester.  It  manufactures 
cotton  and  woolen  goods,  stockings,  cutlery,  cast- 
ings, shoes,  W'hips,  lumber,  and  carriages.  Popula- 
tion, 4,427. 

MILLEDGK,  John  (1757-1818),  a  United  States 
statesman.  He  took  part  in  the  Revolutionary 
war  on  the  side  of  the  colonies,  and  was  appointed 
attorney-general  of  Georgia  in  1780.  From  1792  to 
1802  he  was  a  member  of  Congress,  except  in  the 
years  1799  and  1800,  and  then  till  1806  was  gov- 
ernor of  his  State.  From  1806  to  1809  he  was  a 
United  States  Senator. 

MILLEDGEVILLE,  the  former  capital  of  Geor- 
gia, a  city  and  the  county-seat  of  Baldwin  county. 
It  is  in  a  cotton-growing  region,  has  cotton  manu- 
factories, the  State  lunatic  asylum.  State  peniten- 
tiary, and  the  Middle  Georgia  Military  and  Agri- 
cultural College.    Population,  3,306. 

MILLER,  CiNCiNNATus  HiNER  (Jo.\quin),  an 
American  poet,  born  in  1841.  He  began  the  prac- 
tice of  law  in  1863,  and  from  1866  to  1870  was  judge 
of  Grant  county,  Oregon.  He  then  devoted  him- 
self entirely  to  literature,  and  has  written  several 
plays,  including  The Danites.  Among  his  poems  are 
Noiig.s  of  the  Sierras  (1871);  Songs  of  the  Sunlands 
(1873);  Songs  of  the  Desert  (1875);  and  Songs  of  the 
Mexican  Seas  (1887).  His  prose  works  are  The  Baro- 
ness of  New  Fori  (1877);  IVie  Danites  in  the  Sierras 
(1881)  ;  Shadotos  of  Shasta  (1881);  Memorie  and  Rime 
(1884);  and  '49,  or  the  Gold  Seekers  of  the  Sierras 
(1884). 

MILLER,  .Joseph,  an  English  comedian,  born 
al)Out  1684,  died  in  1738.  In  1739  a  collection  of  stale 
jokes  was  made  by  John  .Alottley  and  published  as 
Jue  Miller's  Jests,  and  it  is  by  this  work  that  he  is 
best  known. 

MIlJyER,  Samuel,  a  distinguished  American  di- 
vine, born  near  Dover.  Del.,  in  1769,  died  at  Prince- 
ton, N.  J.,  in  1850.  He  was  professov  of  ecclesiastical 


history  at  Princeton,  from  1813  to  1849.  He  wrote 
numerous  polemical  treatises,  and  some  valuable 
historical  and  biographical  works. 

MILLER,  Wakner,  an  American  statesman,  was 
born  in  Oswego  county,  N.  Y.,  Aug.  12,  1838.  He 
served  with  credit  in  the  civil  war;  was  elected  to 
the  New  York  assembly  in  1874,  to  Congress  in  1878, 
and  became  United  States  Senator  in  1881.  He  was 
the  Republican  nominee  for  governor  of  New  York 
in  1888.  He  is  president  of  the  Nicaragua  Canal 
Company. 

MILLER,  William  Allex,  an  English  chemist, 
born  at  Ipswich  in  1817,  died  in  1S70.  He  is  best 
known  by  his  valuable  Elements  of  CJiemistvu. 

INIILLER, William  Hallowes  (e  1801-1880),  an 
English  mineralogist  and  physicist.  In  1843  he 
superintended,  by  order  of  parliament,  the  con- 
struction of  standards  of  weight  and  length,  the 
old  standards  having  been  destroyed  by  fire.  In 
1870  he  served  on  the  international  commission  upon 
the  metric  system.  He  was  a  prominent  member 
of  tlie  principal  scientific  societies  of  the  world. 

MILLERSBURG,  the  county-seat  of  Holmes 
county,  Ohio.  It  contains  a  flour-mill,  a  foundry, 
and  a  machine  shop. 

MILLERSVILLE,  a  post-village  of  Lancaster 
county,  Pa.  It  contains  the  Millersville  State  Nor- 
mal School. 

MILLIARD,  the  French  collective  name  for  a 
thousand  millions;  familliar  in  connection  with  the 
five  milliards  of  francs  (5,000  millions  of  francs,  or 
$1,000,000,000)  paid  by  France  as  war  indemnity  to 
Germany  in  1871-73. 

MILLIKEN'S  BEND,  a  village  of  Louisiana, 
about  15  miles  above  Vicksburg,  the  scene  of  an  en- 
gagement in  June,  1863,  between  the  Confederates 
under  General  McCullough,  and  a  body  of  colored 
troops,  in  which  the  former,  owing  to  the  timely 
arrival  of  Porter's  fleet,  were  repulsed. 

JIILLS,  Clark  (1815-1883),  an  American  sculptor. 
For  several  years  prior  to  1835  he  was  in  the  stucco 
business  in  Charleston,  S.  C,  and  then  resolved  to 
try  cutting  in  marble.  His  first  work  was  a  bust 
of  John  C.  Calhoun,  for  which  he  received  a  gold 
medal  from  the  city  council,  and  it  was  placed  in 
the  city  hall.  Subsequently  he  executed  busts  of 
several  eminent  men  of  South  Carolina,  and  in  1848 
made  the  model  for  the  equestrian  statue  of  An- 
drew Jackson,  which  stands  in  Lafayette  Square, 
Washington,  D.  C.  Air.  Mills  has  since  executed 
several  other  popular  statues,  besides  many  busts. 
MILLS,  Samiel  John  (1783-1818).  an  American 
clergyman.  In  1812-13  he  was  exploring  agent  of 
the  Massachusetts  and  Connecticut  Missionary  So- 
cieties, and  in  1814-15  missionary  and  Bible  agent. 
In  1817  he  was  chosen  to  explore  the  coast  of  west- 
ern Africa  in  behalf  of  the  American  Colonization 
Society.  He  reached  Africa  in  the  early  part  of 
1818  and  after  two  months  on  that  continent  began 
his  homeward  voyage.     He  died  while  at  sea. 

MILLTdWN,  a  post-town  in  Charlotte  county,  N. 
B.,  on  St.  Croix  River.  It  is  a  great  lumber  depot. 
MILMOIIE,  Martin  (1844-1SS3),  an  American 
sculptor.  He  entered  the  studio  of  Thomas  Hall  in 
1860,  and  several  years  later  opened  a  studio  of  his 
own  in  Boston.  Among  his  works  are  soldiers'  and 
sailors'  monuments  in  several  cities,  busts  of  I'ope 
Pius  IX.,  Charles  Sumner,  Wendell  Phillips,  Ralph 
Waldo  Emerson,  Longfellow,  Theodore  Parker  and 
Oieorge  Tickner,  besides  the  ideal  figures  Ceres, 
Flora,  I'uniona,  Ameriea  and  Weeping  Lion. 

AIILNE-EDWARDS.  Henri, a  French  naturalist, 
born  at  Bruges,  Oct.  23.  1800.  died  July  29.  1885. 
His  father  was  an  Kngli.<hmaii.  Milne-Edwards 
studied  medicine  at  Paris,  where  he  took  his  degree 
of  Jl.  D.  in  1823,  but  devoted  himself  to  natural  his- 


M  I  L  N  E  R  —  M  I  N  I  E 


1083 


tory.  He  was  elected  in  183S  member  of  the  Acad- 
■dmie  des  Sciences  in  the  place  of  Cuvier.  In  1841 
he  iilled  the  chair  of  Entomology  at  the  Jardin  des 
Plantes,  and  in  1844  became  professor  of  zoology 
and  physiology.  He  published  numerous  original 
memoirs  of  importance  in  the  Annales  dea  ScUnicc^ 
Naliircllfs,  a  journal  he  himself  assisted  in  editing 
for  50  years. 

His  Elements  de  Zoologie  had  an  enormous  circu- 
lation, and  long  formed  the  basis  of  most  minor 
manuals  of  zoology  published  in  Europe.  His  Lcc- 
tures  on  the  Physiology  and  Comparative  Anatomy  of 
Man  and  the  Animals  (14  vols.)  have  a  great  perma- 
nent value  for  their  immense  mass  of  details,  and 
copious  references  to  scattered  sources  of  informa- 
tion. His  researches  in  the  distribution  of  the 
lower  invertebrates  led  him  to  the  theory  of  cen- 
ters of  creation  ;  and  to  this  he  adhered  through- 
out life,  in  spite  of  the  general  acceptance  of  the 
newer  and  larger  views  of  Darwin  by  his  fellow- 
scientists.  His  elder  brother,  Frederick  William, 
was  almost  equally  celebrated.  He  founded  the 
Ethnological  Society  in  Paris,  and  is  considered  the 
father  of  ethnology  in  France. 

MILNER,  Is.\AC,  an  English  author  and  scholar, 
born  near  Leeds  in  1751,  died  in  1830.  He  was  a 
brother  of  Joseph  Jlilner,  whose  Church  History  he 
brought  down  to  a  later  date. 

MUvNER.  Joseph,  an  ecclesiastical  historian, 
born  near  Leeds  in  1744,  died  Nov.  15,  1797.  He 
studied  at  Catharine  Hall,  Cambridge,  and  after- 
■hards  became  well  known  as  head-master  of  Hull 
grammar-school.  He  was  vicar  of  Forth  Ferriby 
seven  miles  from  Hull,  and  lecturer  in  the  princi- 
pal church  of  the  town,  and  in  1797  became  vicar 
of  Holy  Trinity  Church.  Milner's  principal  work 
is  liis  History  of  the  Church  of  Christ,  of  which  he 
lived  to  complete  three  volumes,  reaching  to  the 
13th  century ;  a  fourth  volume  coming  down  to  the 
16th   century,   was  edited   from   his  MSS. 

MILREIS,  or  MiLR.tES,  a  Portuguese  silver  coin 
and  money  of  account,  contains  1,000  reis.  The  coin 
is  commonly  known  in  Portugal  as  the  coroa,  or 
"crown,"  and  is  the  unit  of  the  money  system  in 
that  country.    It  is  also  used  in  Brazil. 

Milton,  a  city,  the  county-seat  of  Santa  Rosa 
county,  Fla.,  on  IJlackwater  River.  It  contains 
foundries,  and  a  dry  dock,  and  has  a  large  lum- 
ber trade. 

MILTON,  a  post-village  of  Norfolk  county,  Mass., 
nine  miles  south  of  Boston.  Ice  and  building- 
stones  are  l)ere  obtained,  and  paper, leather,  choco- 
late, and  rul)ber-goods  are  manufactured.  Market 
gardening  is  largely  carried  on  in  the  vicinity. 
Population,  4,278. 

MILTON,  a  post-borough  of  Northumberland 
county.  Pa.  It  has  manufactories  of  lumber,  and 
contains  car-works,  machine  shops,  agricultural 
works,  and  foundries;  also  a  rolling-mill  and  a  nail 
factory.    Population,  5,317. 

Milwaukee,  a  city  of  Wisconsin,  the  com- 
mercial metropolis,  railroad  center,  and  port  of 
entry  of  the  State,  ^'ilwaukee  is  one  of  the 
greatest  wheat  markets  in  the  country  ;  it  has  ex- 
tensive manufactories  of  iron,  flour,  malt  liquors, 
and  leather.  From  its  elevated  position  it  over- 
looks Lake  Michigan.  It  is  noted  for  the  health- 
fulness  of  its  situation.  Population  in  1890,  203,979. 
See  Britannica,  Vol.  XVI,  p.  340. 

MINAS,  the  capital  of  a  wild,  mountainous  pro- 
vince (area,  4,844  square  miles ;  population,  23,000), 
of  the  same  name  in  southern  Uruguay,  seventy- 
five  miles  by  rail  northeast  of  Montevideo.  Pop- 
ulation, 7,000. 

MINDEN.  a  post-village,  the  capital  of  Webster 
parish,  in    the    northwestern    part  of  Louisiana. 


Cotton  and  lumber  are  the  chief  articles  of  ex- 
port. 

MINDERERUS  SPIRIT,  a  valuable  diaphoretic, 
much  used  in  febrile  diseases.  It  is  prepared  by 
adding  ammonia  or  the  carbonate  of  ammonia  to 
acetic  acid  till  a  neutral  liquid  is  obtained.  It  is 
sometimes  applied  hot  on  flannel  in  cases  of  mumps, 
while  it  has  also  been  employed  as  an  eyewash  in 
chronic  ophthalmia. 

I\1INE0LA,  a  flourishing  town  of  Texas,  and  an 
important  railroad  junction,  situated  about  a  hun- 
dred and  twelve  miles  west  of  Shreveport,  Louis- 
iana, at  the  intersection  of  the  Texas  and  Pacific 
and  the  Missouri  Pacific  railroads. 

MINER,  Al.\nzo  A.,  an  American  clergyman  and 
temperance  advocate,  born  in  New  Hampshire  in 
1814.  He  has  lield  many  important  offices  con- 
nected with  education  ;  and  has  been  a  voluminous 
writer,  especially  in  the  anti-slavery  and  temper- 
{ince  causes.  He  was  president  of  Tufts  College 
from  1SR2  to  1875. 

MINERAL  POINT,  a  city  of  Iowa  county,  AVis.  It 
contains  grist-mills,  foundries,  a  car-shop,  and 
zii.c  and  lead  furnacef.    Population,  2,C94. 

:MINERA1>  WOOL,  when  a  jet  of  steam  is  al- 
lowed to  escape  through  a  stream  of  liquid  slag.the 
slag  is  blown  into  very  fine  white  threads,  called 
"mineral  wool,"  which  is  used  as  a  covering  for 
steam-pipes  and  steam-boilers ;  as  a  deafening  for 
floors  and  buildings;  and,  generally,  as  a  non-con- 
ductor of  heat. 

:MINERSVILLE,  a  post-borough  and  a  railroad 
junction  of  Schuylkill  county,  Pa.,  on  the  west 
branch  of  the  Schuylkill  River.  Coal-mining  is 
the  chief  industry,  and  the  town  contains  water- 
works, a  fire  department,  foundries  and  an  an- 
thracite furnace.    Population,  3,502. 

MINGPIETTI,  Marco,  an  Italian  statesman,  Ca- 
vour's  disciple  and  successor  as  leader  of  the 
Italian  Right,  born  Sept.  S,  1818,  died  at  Rome 
Dec.  10,  1886.  He  supplemented  a  brilliant  course 
at  his  university  by  a  prolonged  tour  in  France, 
Germany  and  Great  Britain.  With  the  election 
in  1846  of  Pope  Pius  IX.  I\Iinghetti  started  a  jour- 
nal in  aid  of  his  country's  regeneration.  In  1859-60 
he  was  Cavour's  secretary  for  foreign  affairs.  His 
next  post  was  that  of  minister  of  the  interior,  and 
on  Cavour's  death  in  1801  he  was  regarded  as  his 
ablest  representative  in  the  Italian  chamber.  In 
1863  he  became  prime-minister,  in  1864  -he  con- 
cluded with  the  Emperor  Napoleon  the  "Seiitem- 
ber  Convention."  In  1868  he  was  Italian  minister 
in  London,  and  thereafter  minister  of  agricul- 
ture. In  1870  the  collapse  of  the  Second  Empire 
brought  with  it  the  dissolution  of  the  September 
Convention,  and  Rome  became  the  capital  of  Italy 
and  seat  of  government.  From  1S73  to  1876  Min- 
ghetti  was  prime  minister  for  the  second  time,  and 
among  many  useful  measures  earned  his  country's 
gratitude  by  effecting  the  "paraggio"  or  financial 
equilibrium  between  her  outlay  and  income.  For 
the  next  ten  years  Minghetti  was  still  the  most 
prominent  member  of  the  Italian  parliament. 
His  lectures  and  essays  on  Raphael  and  Dante 
illustrate  on  the  {esthetic  side  a  catholicity  of 
culture  which  in  the  sphere  of  practical  politics 
can  point  to  his  treatises  on  Economia  Publica 
(1859),  and  Ln  Chiesa  e  lo  State  (1878). 

MINIE  Clatd  Etienxe,  inventor  of  the  Minid 
rifle,  born  in  Paris  in  1814,  died  in  1879.  He  en- 
listed in  the  army  as  a  private  soldier,  and  quitted 
it  as  colonel  in  1858.  He  devoted  his  principal 
thought  to  the  perfecting  of  fire-arms,  and  in  1849 
invented  the  5Iinie  rifle.  In  1858  the  khedive  of 
Egypt  appointed  him  director  of  a  small-arms 
factory  and  musketry  school  in  Cairo. 


1084 


MINING 

MINING.   See  Britanniea,  Vol.  XVI,  pp.  440— 472.    The  product  of  the  world's  mining  for  1880  was : 


Australia    

Austria 

Belgium 

France 

Germany 

Gt.  Britain  and  Ireland. 

Italy 

Russia 

Spain 

Spanish  America 

Sweden 

United  States 

Otlier  countries 


The  World  , 


Value  of  a  Year's  Product. 


$2,500,000 


$.0,000,000 
22,600,000 
30,000,000 
55,000.000 
70,000,000 
335,000,000 


15,000,000 
2,600,000 


$70.000,000  j:081I.OUO,000  |3CO,000,000 


$10,000,000 
15,000,000 

2,500,000 
16,000,000 
20,000,000 
60,000,000 
10,000,000 

6,000,000 
30,000,000 
17,600,000 

6,000,000 
170,000,000 

5,000,000 


Number  of  Result 
perllanr 


$40,000,000 
40,000,000 
32,500,000 
70,000,000 
95,000,000 

396,000,000 
10,000,000 
50,000,000 
30,000,000 
50,000,000 
5,000,000 

385.000,000 
17,500,000 


96,000 

92,000 
105,000 
206,000 
231,000 
538,000 

36,000 
207,000 

70,000 
150,000 

29,000 
560.000 

70,000 


f42!.0O 
430.0a 
310.00 
360.00 
400.00 
736.00 
260.00 
240.00 
430.00 
3a3.00 
175.00 


These  returns  of  the  world's  mining  are  based  on  Mulhall's  tables,  and  are  for  1880. 

In  the  following  list  we  give  the  mineral  products  of  the  United  States  for  1887  and  1888.    (From  the  latest  report  of  the- 
United  States  Geological  Survey  on  the  Mineral  Production  of  the  United  States:)* 


Metallic  Pkoducts. 

Pig  iron,  spot  value long  tons 

Silver,  coining  value troy  ounces 

Gold,  coining  value '* 

Copper,  value  at  New  York   City lbs. 

Lead,  value  at  New  Y'ork  City short  tons 

Zinc,  value  at  New  York  City " 

Quicksilver,  value  at  San  Francisco flask£ 

Nickel,  value  at  Philadelphia lbs. 

Aluminium,  contained  in    alloys 

Antimony,  value  at  San  Francisco short  tons 

Platinum,  value  (crude)  at  New  York  City,  troy  ounces 

Total  value  metallic  products 

Non-Metallic  (spot  values). 

Bituminous  coal long  tons 

Pennsylvania  anthracite ^ " 

Building  stone 

Lime barreli 


Cement barrels 

Salt " 

Limestone  for  iron  flux long  tons 

South  Carolina  phosphate  rock " 

Zinc-white short  tons 

Mineral  waters gallons  sold 


Borax. 


..lbs 


Gypsum short  tons 

Manganese  ore long  tons 

Mineral  paints " 

New  Jersey  Marls short  ton 

Pvrites long  tons 

Flint 


Mica. 


..lbs 


Corundum short  tons 

Sulphur " 

Precious  stones 

Crude  barytes long  tons 

Gold  quartz,  souvenirs,  jewelry,  etc 

Bromine 

Feldspar long  tons 

Chrome  iron  ore " 

Graphite Iba 

Fluorspar short  ton 

Slate,  ground  as  pigment long  ton 

Cobalt  oxide lbs, 

Novaculite " 

Asphaltum short  tons 

Asbestus ; " 

Rutlle lbs 


Total  value  non-metallic  mineral  products 

Total  value  metallic  mineral  products 

Estimated  value  of  mineral  products  unspecified. 


Grand  total $591,1 


6,489,738 

5,783,632 

1,624,927 

1.270,622 

180,556 

85,903 

83,250 

207,328 

19,000 

100 

500 


6,253,295 

8,056,881 

8,488.000 

433,706 

20,000 

9,628,568 

7,589,000 

96,000 

25,600 

24,000 

600.000 

54.331 

30.000 

48,000 


20,000 


307,380 

8,700 

1,500 

400,000 

6.000 

2,500 

12.'2(;6 

1,.'>00,000 

5:^.800 

100 

1,000 


$107,000,000 

59,196,000 

33,175,000 

33,833,954 

15,924.951 

5,500,856 

1,413.126 

128.382 

65,000 

20,000 

2,000 

$256  ,'258,267 

122,497,341 

89,020,483 

26,600,000 

24,643,500 

24,598,569 

22,662,128 

4.633,639 

4,377,204 

2,719.000 

1.951,673 

1,600.000 

1,709,302 

455,340 

430.000 

256.000 

380,000 

300,000 

167,6.'i8 

175.000 

70.000 

91,620 


64.860 
110,000 
75,000 
96,290 
80.000 
20,000 
33,000 
30,000 
'25,000 
18,441 
18,000 
331,500 
3,000 
3,000 


328,914,528 

256,'258,'267 

6,000,000 


6,417,148 

41  .'269,240 

1,596,500 

184,670,624 

160,700 

50,340 

33,826 

205,656 


6,992,744 

7,831,962 

6,377,000 

480.568 

18,000 

8.259,609 

11,000,000 

95,000 

34,6'24 

20,000 

600,000 

52  ,.600 

32.000 

•70.500 

600 

3,000 


16,000 


199,087 

10,200 

8.00O 

416,000 

5,000 

2,000 

18.310 

1. '200 .000 

4.000 

1,'iO 

1,000 


$121,926,800 

.63,441,300. 

33,100,000 

21,052,440 

14,463,000 

4,782,300 

1,429,000 

133,200 

74.905 

16,600 

1,838 


98,004,666 

84,552,181 

25,000,000- 

23,376,000 

18,856,626 

15,838,500 

6,186,877 

4,093,846 

3,226,200 

1,886,818 

1,440,000 

1,261,475 

5SO.00O 

4'25,00O. 

333,844 

310,000 

300,000 

210,000 

185,000 

142  ,'250 

108  000 

100,000- 

88,600 

75,000 

75,000 

61,717 

56,100 

40,000- 

34,000 

20,000 

20,000 

1S,774 

16,000 

16,000 

4,500 

3,000 


'285.864,M2 

•250,419,'288 

6,000,000 


$542,284,225 


*  The  report  ot  the  United  States  Geological  Survey  Office,  of  mineral  productions  In   1889,  had  not  been  completed  wheos 
this  edition  was  ready  for  publication. 


M  I  N  I  N  G 


1085 


The  following  lists  are  taken  from  the  eleventh  census,  as  published  in  1891.    The  Coal  product  of  the 
several  States  was : 


Alabama 

Georgia  and  North  Carolina. . . 

Illinois  

ludiaoa 

Kentucky  

Maryland 

Michigan 

Ohio ; 

Fennsylvania  anthracite  

Pennsylvania  bituminous  coal. 

Tennessee 

Virginia 

West  Virginia 


9,976,7 
45,544,S 
36,174,( 

1,925,( 


$;',,787,426 

:«9,382 

1I,7»,203 

2JS87,862 

2,374  ,:«9 

2,517,474 

11.5,011 

9,355,400 

65,718.165 

27,953,215 

2,3:«,309 

804,475 

5,086,584 


!!23,972 

154,994 

6,115.377 

1,454,327 

946,288 

2,228,917 

100,800 

0,008,595 

28.640,819 

18,425,163 

495,131 

45,896 

1,829,844 


»476,9I1 

232,005 

8,779,832 

2,150,258 

1,134,960 

2,685537 

224,500 

7,719,667 

42.172,942 

18,567,129 

629,724 

108.092 

2,013,671 


Coal  Product  We.st  of  the  Mississippi  River  in  1889. 
[The  figures  given  are  for  the  short  ton  of  2,000  pounds.] 


Number  of  Miles. 

Total 
product. 

Made  into 
coke. 

Value  of  total 

product  at 

mines. 

Divisions  and  States 

Regular 
establish- 
ments. 

Country 
Banks 

and  local 
mines. 

Average 

price  per 

ton. 

569 

1,326 

16.067,500 

321,462 

$24,413,262 

$1.52 

Trans-Mississippi  Valley.                             

449 

1,2:M 

10.051,229 

13,143 

14,271,022 

1.42 

5 
127 
10 
172 
123 
« 
4 

98 

338 
295 

223' 

356 
16 
6 

91 

30,307 

2,280,763 

752,832 

4,061,704 

2,567,823 

279,584 

128,216 

4,8.30,368 

46,^S1 
3,291,7!)4 
l,32:i.806 
5,392,220 
3,478,058 
.395,836 
340,617 

7,486,004 

1.53 
1.48 
1.76 
1.83 
1..35 
1.42 

500 

12,618 

•25 

Texas 

Rocky  Mountain  Region                                  

308.319 

1.55 

Montana 

8 
15 
53 
18 

4 

22 

22 
10 
40 
12 

7 

1 

363.301 

1,388,947 

2,360,536 

486,983 

2:36,601 

1,179.903 

30,576 

8.11.623 

1,748,618 

3,605,622 

872,785 

377,456 

2,655,636 

269,526 
6,000 

2,217 

1.53 
1.79 
1.60 

2.25 

New  Mexico                                                

Utah 

Pacific  toast                                                

10 
12 

1 

186,179 
993,724 

451,881 
2,203,755 

2.43 
2.22 

The  total  amount  of  coal  produced  in  the  States 
and  Territories  west  of  the  Mississippi  River  aggre- 
gated in  the  calendar  year : 

Short  tons. 

1889 16,067.500 

IWO 4,584,324 

Increase 11,483,176 

The  value  of  this  product  at  the  mines  was  as 
follows : 


Increase 15,583,540 

It  is  apparent,  therefore,  that  the  quantity  of 
coal  produced  in  1889  has  increased  to  more  than 
threefold  during  the  decade,  while  the  value  has 
decreased  from  $1.93  per  ton  at  the  mines  in  1880  to 
.$1.52  in  1889. 

Four  States  and  Territories  are  now  given  as  pro- 
ducers of  coal,  for  which  no  product  was  reported 
2 


in  1880 — namely,  North  Dakota,  Texas,  New  Mexico, 
and  Indian  Territory. 

The  Lead  product  of  the  United  States  in   1889 
was  as  follows : 


States  and  Territories. 

Tons. 

Value. 

Total        .      . 

130,903 

$4,712,7.57.27 

3,1.58 
53 
70,788 
23,172 
10,183 
1,994 
4,764 
110 
16,075 

98,747.84 

1,999.65 

2,101,014.31 

1,042,629.31 

456575.40 

72,653.64 

170,754.59 

4,653.44 

763329.09 

Idaho 

rtah 

\ 


1086 


MINING 


Tlie  total  product  of  the   lead   and  zinc  mines  of  the  States  east  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  has  been 
ai^  follows ; 

Total  Product  of  the  Lead  and  Zinc  Mines  East  of  the  Rocky  Mountains. 


Total  value. 

•     Zinc  Ore. 

Lead  Ore. 

Short  tons. 

Value. 

Short  tons. 

Value. 

Total         

$4,804,179.24 

234,503 

$3,049,799.25 

50,238 

$1,754379.99 

3,650.00 

4.800.00 

3,600.00 

402,428.47 

3,595,218.18 

2,520.00 

175,052.20 

152,280.00 

404,630.39 

130 

3,250.00 

20 
173 

400.00 

4,800.00 

4.50 
39,575 
93,131 

140 
63,339 
12,906 
24,832 

3.600,00 

299,192.05 

2,024,057.14 

2,520.00 
175,052  20 
141.500.00 
400,567.86 

JP^^*  • 

3,617 
44,482 

103,236.42 

,.-          j 

1,671,161.04 

268 
1,678 

10,720.00 

64,062.53 

T"Tal  Production  of  Precious  Stones,  Ornamental  Min-    |       The  production  of  Manganese  from  1880  to  1891,  Inclusive, 

ERALS,  etc.,  in  THE    UNITED   STATES   IN   1889.  i     Was  aS  follOWS  : 

Production  of  Manganese  Ore  in  the  United  States. 


$81,162 


Sapphire 

Emerald 

Aquamarine 

Phenacite  

"lopaz 

Turquoise 

Tourmaline 

Garnet 

Quartz 

Amethyst 

Rose  Quartz 

Smoky  Quartz 

Gold  quartz 

liutilated  quartz... 

Dumortiente  iu  quartz 

Quartz  coated  with 
chalcedony 

Chrysoprase 

Agatized  and  jasperlzed 
wood 

Uanded  and  moss  jas- 
per   

Amazon  stone 

Pvriie 

C'hlorastrolite 

Thomsonite 

Kluorite 

Fossil  coral 

Aztirite  and  malachite. 

Catliuite  (pipestone). 

•Zircon  

•Gadolinite,  ferguson- 
ite,  etc 

♦Monazlte 

•Spodumcne 

twooden  ornaments 
decorated  with  min- 
erals   

iMIscellaneous  miner- 
als   


23,175 
2,250 
1.633 
2,750 


2,000 
200 

53,000 


2,037 
5,000 
16,000 


16,500 
20,000 


2,037 
5,000 
16,000 


15  ,.500 
20,000 


♦Used  to  extract  the  rarer  elements  for  chemical  pur 
poses. 

tSuch  IU)  clocks,  horseshoes,  boxes,  etc. 
}  For  cabinets,  museums,  etc. 


MINING 


1087 


In  the  following  table  will  be  found  a  statement 
of  the  total  production  of  Petroleum  in  the  United 
States  in  1889,  by  States : 


PennsylvanJa  and  New  York. 

Ohio 

West  Virginia 

Colorado 

California 

Indiana 

Kentucky 

Illinois 

Kansas 

Texas 


1,486,403 

!,471,965 

358.269 

316,476 

147,027 

32,758 

5,400 

l,4fiO 

500 


In  this  statement  the  production  of  Pennsylvania 
and  New  York  is  united.  The  Bradford  (Pennsyl- 
vania; and  Allegany  (New  York)  fields  are  re- 
garded as  one  in  petroleum  reports.  Of  the  21,486,- 
403  barrels  produced  in  Pennsylvania  and  New 
York  in  1889,  7,158,362  barrels  were  produced  in 
these  two  districts.  The  Bradford  district  lies 
partly  in  Pennsylvania  and  partly  in  New  York. 
The  collection  and  shipment  of  its  product  by  pipe 
lines  is  such  that  it  is  almost  impossible  to  separate 
the  quantity  of  oil  produced  in  Pennsylvania  from 
that  produced  in  New  York. 

Since  pig-iron  is  directly  made  from  iron  ores, 
and  we  have  no  recent  statistics  of  the  amount  of 
iron  ore  mined  in  this  conntry,  we  insert  here  the 
results  of  the  Eleventh  Census  in  the  pig-iron  in- 
dustry instead. 

The  production  of  Pio-Iron  during  the  year  end- 
ing June  30,  1890,  was  the  largest  in  the  history  of 
the  iron  industry  of  this  country,  amounting  to 
9,579,779  tons  of  2,000  pounds,  as  compared  with 
'3,781,021  tons  produced  during  the  census  year  1880 
and  2,052,821  tons  during  the  census  year  1870. 
From  1870  to  1880  the  increase  in  production 
amounted  to  1,728,200  tons,  or  nearly  85  per  cent., 
while  from  1880  to  1890  the  increase  was  5,798,758 
tons,  or  over  153  per  cent.  The  following  table 
shows  the  production  of  pig-iron  in  the  various  sec- 
tions of  the  country  in  the  census  years  1870, 1880, 
and  1890,  in  tons  of  2,000  pounds,  including  castings 
made  direct  from  the  furnace.  The  statistics  for 
1870  and  1880  are  for  the  census  years  ended  May 
31,  but  for  1890  they  cover  the  year  ended  .June  30. 


Tons  of  2,000  Pounds. 

Districts. 

Year  ended 
May  81,  1870. 

Year  ended 
May  31,  1880. 

Year  ended 
June  .30, 1890. 

New  England  States. 

Middle  States 

Southern  States 

Western  States 

34.471 

1,311,649 

184,540 

522,161 

30,957 

2,401,093 

350,4:^ 

995.:C5 

3,200 

33,781 
5,216,591 
1,780,909 
2,522,351 

26,147 

Total 

2,052,821 

3,781,021 

9,579,779 

From  the  above  it  will  be  seen  that  the  pig-iron 
industry  of  New  England  has  been  practically 
stationary  during  the  past  twenty  years,  while  dur- 
ing the  same  period,  and  especially  since  1880, 
there  has  been  a  wonderful  development  of  the 
manufacture  of  pig-iron  in  all  other  sections  of  the 
country. 


The  following  table  gives  the  production  of  pig- 
iron  by  States,  in  tons  of  2,000  pounds,  including 
castings  made  direct  from  the  furnace,  during  the 
census  years  1880  and  1890,  with  the  number  of  com- 
pleted furnace  stacks  at  the  close  of  each  year,  the 
relative  rank  of  each  State  and  its  percentage  of 
the  total  production. 


States  and 
Territories. 

Year  Ended  May  :'.l.  ISXO. 

Rank 

Complet 'd 
furnace 
stacks. 

Production 

of  pig-iron 

in  tons. 

Percentage 

of  total 
production. 

1 
2 

Pennsylvania... 

269 
103 
57 
20 
27 
14 
10 
17 
11 
15 
22 
22 
21 
10 
8 
4 
31 
6 
1 
1 
1 
1 
1 
7 
2 

1,930,311 

518,712 

313,368 

157,414 

119,.586 

118,282 

95,468 

95,050 

80,050 

62,3.36 

f)9,664 

58,108 

47,873 

23,099 

18,779 

18,2.37 

17,90li 

9,!>43 

.3,200 

2,015 

1,400 

620 

51.05 

3 
4 

5 
6 
7 
8 
9 
10 
11 
12 
13 
14 

New  York 

New  Jersey 

Michigan 

Wisconsin 

Illinois 

Missouri 

West  Virginia... 

Alabama 

Maryland 

Kentucky 

Tennessee  

8.29 
4.16 
3.16 
3.13 
2.52 
2.51 
2.13 
1.65 
1.58 
1.54 
1.27 

15 
16 

Connecticut .... 

17 
18 
19 

Virginia 

Massachusetts .. 

2.61 

20 

Maine  . 

21 

22 

23 

Vermont 

Minnesota 

North  Carolana . 
Utah 

24 

25 

Total 

681 

3,781,021 

100  00 

States. 

Year  Ended  June  30,  1890. 

Rank 

Complet 'd 
furnace 
stacks. 

Production 

of  pig-iron 

in  tons. 

Percentage 

of  totlll 
production. 

1 
2 

Pennsylvania... 
Ohio 

224 
71 
48 
15 
37 
31 
19 
26 
10 
18 
5 
8 
14 
6 
5 
8 
2 
2 

4,712,511 

1,302,299 

890,432 

674,506 

359,040 

302,447 

290,747 

224,908 

210,0.37 

145,040 

108,764 

99,131 

96,246 

44,199 

36,747 

21,700 

12,949 

11,470 

8,950 

8,411 

8,381 

4,787 

3,700 

3,377 

49.19 

3 
4 

Alabama 

Illinois 

9.29 

5 
6 

7 
8 
9 
10 
11 
12 
13 
14 
15 
16 
17 
18 

New  York 

Virginia 

Tennessee 

Michigan 

Wisconsin 

New  Jersey 

West  Virginia  . . 

Missouri 

Maryland 

Kentucky 

Georgia 

Connecticut 

Colorado 

3.76 
3.16 
3.04 
2.35 
2.19 
1.51 
1.14 
1.04 
1.00 

19 

20 
21 
22 
23 
24 
25 

Oregon 

Massachusetts.. 

Washington 

Maine 

North  Carolina. 
Minnesota 

Total 

562 

9,579,779 

Quicksilver  Mixing  in  the  United  States. — 
During  the  calendar  year  1889  there  were  26,464 
flasks,  or  2,024,490  pounds,  or  1.012  short  tons  of 
quicksilver  produced  in  California.  About  20 
flasks  were  produced  in  Oregon.  The  product  is 
notably  less  than  the  usual  yield.  In  1888,  33,250 
flasks  were  produced. 


1088 


Itf  I  N  I  N  G 


The    World's    Production    of    Quicksilveu   for 
Ten  Years. 


■a  .>, 

Flasks. 

119.168 
120,933 
115,221 
115,119 
101,828 
98.354 
103.061 
108.787 
109,914 
101,236 

1 

■n      5-1  71  Ci  -»■  uT  ^  c  r^  -J  p) 
•^     -r  '^'  ^  ff-  -^  «■  t^  w  ^  i^ 

■^       51  0 -*  :tc-. -Moots  t* 

1 

i 

Is 

0 

2II 
< 

Flasks. 

10,510 
11,333 
11,663 
13,152 
13,967 
13,503 
14,496 
14,676 
14,962 
15,295 

a 

< 

Flasks. 

45,322 

44,989 

46,716 

49,177 

48,008 

45.813 

61,199 

.63,2 

61.872 

49,477 

1 

Total  of  all 
mines.  United 

States. 

Flasks. 

59,926 
60,851 
52,732 
46,725 
31,913 
32,073 
29.981 
33,760 
33,250 
26,464 

£ 

1 

f^ 

iiiiliilii 

H 

Tlie  production  of  cut  mica  in  the  United  States 
in  the  census  year  amounted  to  4f),.500  pounds,  val- 
ued at  $50,000.  In  addition  to  this.  19(1  short  tons  of 
scrap  or  waste  mica  were  sold  for  grinding  pur- 
poses, with  a  value  of  $2,450.  The  production  in 
1880,  as  given  in  the  Tenth  Census  report,  was  81,- 
()fi9  pounds  of  cut  mica,  valued  at  .$127,825. 

A  review  of  the  annual  production  during  the 
past  nine  years  sliows  that  the  industry  advanced 
in  importance  until  1885.  Since  then  the  tendency 
has  been  downward,  though  the  fluctuations  in  the 
production  of  the  different  regions  have  caused 
much  irregularity  in  the  annual  totals.  The  fol- 
lowing talile  does  not  include  statistics  of  scrap  and 
wasle  mica,  as  there  had  been  no  attempt  prior  to 
18K!)  lo  determine  the  amount  of  this  waste  which 
has  been  utilized  : 


Cut  Mica  Produced  in  the  United  States. 


Years. 

Amount 
(Pounds). 

Value. 

18.S0   . 

81,669 

$127,825 

100,000 

250,0(HI 

l.SSJ 

100,000 

250.000 

1S.S:; 

114,000 

285,000 

1S.SI 

147,410 

368.625 

1,SK^. 

92.000 

161,000 

18.sii 

40,000 

70,000 

1 8.-^7 

70,000 

142,250 

48,000 

70,000 

18.S'.l.       , 

49,500 

50,000 

During  the  years  1883  and  1884,  when  mica  min- 
ing was  in  its  most  flourishing  condition,  the  man- 
ufacturers of  stoves  consumed  probably  95  percent, 
of  the  product,  and  the  fancy  grades  and  large 
sizes  of  sheet  mica  which  were  then  used  found  a 
ready  sale  at  highly  prolitalile  prices.  Under  this 
stimulus  of  large  profits  many  surface  deposits  or 
pockets  were  opened  by  farmers,  who  worked  them 
occasionally  when  other  business  was  dull  and  re- 
alized a  considerable  profit  on  their  production.  As 
long  as  the  demand  for  large  sizes  continued,  this 
intermittent  sort  of  mining  could  be  carried  on 
with  success,  but  when  the  fashion  in  stove  panels 
changed,  and  small  sheets  were  used  in  place  of 
large  ones,  the  demand  for  the  latter  fell  off  to  a 
great  extent. 

Production   and  Value  of  ^Ika    in  the    United- 
States  in  1889. 


Di^itvibution. 

Cut. 

Scrap. 

Total        

Pounds. 
49,500 

40,000 
6,7000 

2,800 

Value. 
$50,000 

Short  tons. 
196 

Value. 
$2,450 

New  Hampsliire 

40,000 
7,000 

3,000 

160 

2,000 

Virgiuia    and    South 
Dakota 

36 

450 

Slate  Mining  in  the  United  States.  —  The 
total  value  of  all  slate  produced  in  the  T'nited 
States  in  1889.  as  sliown  by  the  following  table, 
is  $3,444,863.  Of  this  amount,  $2,775,271  is  the 
value  of  828,990  squares  of  roofing  slate,  and  $6(>9,- 
592  is  the  value  of  slate  for  all  other  purposes  be- 
sides roofing. 

As  compared  with  the  statements  of  the  tenth 
census  report  of  1880,  the  roofing  slate  product  of 
1889  is  nearly  twice  as  great  in  number  of  squares 
and  in  value.  A  consideration  of  the  slate  used  for 
purposes  other  than  roofing  appears  to  have  been 
omitted  from  the  Tenth  Census  report.  The  total 
value  of  all  slate  produced  in  1889  is  more  than 
twice  as  great  as  that  considered  in  the  Tenth 
Census. 

According  to  "Mineral  Resources  of  the  United 
States,  18S9,"  the  total  number  of  squares  of  roofing 
slate  produced  in  that  year  is  662,400,  valued  :it 
$2,053,440. 

Distribution  of  the  Quarries. — Twelve  States 
at  present  produce  slate.  A  line  drawn  on 
to  the  map  from  Piscatacjuis  county,  Maine, 
Polk  county,  Georgia,  and  approximately  fol- 
lowing the  coast  outline,  passes  through  all  the 
important   ^hlte-producinp    localities.     According 


MINING 


1089 


to  amount  and  value  of  product,  the  most  impor- 
tant States  are,  in  the  order  named,  Pennsj'lvania, 
Vermont,  Maine,  New  York,  Maryland,  and  Vir- 
ginia. In  the  remaining  six  States  productive  oper- 
ations are  of  limited  extent,  and  in  the  case  of 
Arkansas,  California,  and  Utah,  of  very  recent 
date. 


Copper  Mining  in  the  United  St.\tes. — Since 
the  census  year  1880  the  United  States  has 
risen  to  the  rank  of  the  largest  copper  producer  in 
the  world,  outstripping  by  far  any  other  country. 
During  the  decade  Arizona  and,  later,  Montana 
have  become  important  producing  States,  the  latter 
now  acquiring   and   maintaining  its   rank  as  the 


Production  op  Slate  in  the  United  States  for  the  Year  1889. 


States. 

Number  of 
quarries. 

Number  of 
squares  of 
roofing  slate. 

Total  value  of 
roofing  slate. 

Total  value  of 
slate  for  oth- 
er purposes. 

Total  value  of 
all   slate 
produced. 

I 
2 
4 
4 
5 
1 
5 
16 
104 
1 
60 
3 

60 

2.504 

3.050 
43.500 
23,100 

3,000  . 

2,700 
17.167 
474,602 
(") 

2.35,850 
23,457 

$240 
13,889 
14,850 
214,000 
105.745 
15,000 
10,800 
85,726 
1,636,945 
(n) 

592,997 
85,079 

(1) 
(n> 

$480 
(a) 

4,203 
(n) 

125 
44,877 
374,831 
(a) 

245,016 
(«) 

$240 
13,889 
15,330 

214,000 

110,008 
15.000 
10,925 

130,603 

2,011,776 

(a) 

838,013 
85,079 

California 

i';«?'-s'a 

Maryland  

MichiRrtu 

New  Jersey  .                                                          

New  York 

Pennsylvania.                                                              

Utah 

Vermont. 
Virfriuii. 

206 

828,990               $2,775,271 

$669,592 

$3,444,863 

(<i)    None. 
Copper  Production    in  1889. 


■  states  and  Territories. 

Ore 

produced 

(Snort  tons). 

Mineral 
(Pounds). 

Black 

copper 

(Pounds). 

Matte. 
'     Pounds. 

Fine  copper 
contents 
(Pounds). 

3,322,742 

117.804,926 

39,713,237 

159,547,390 

220,569,438 

Michigan 

2,43.3,733 
658.837 
155,586 
34,586 

117,804,926 

87,465,675 
97,868,064 
31,362,685 
3.88;i,014 

10,176.744 

29,532.493 

4,000 

147,800,.i90 
4.126.000 
7.620. 8U& 

leader.  While  by  far  the  greater  part  of  the  metal 
produced  is  ol)tained  from  ores  carrying  only  the 
leaser  metal,  important  quantities  in  the  aggregate 
are  derived  from  ores  in  which  lead,  gold  and  sil- 
ver are  the  principal  constituents  of  value.  These 
quantities  are  difficult  to  trace  to  their  source.  The 
ores  are  purchased  by  lead  and  copper  smelters  in 
the  open  market,  often  in  small  parcels,  indirectly, 
through  sampling  works.  Sometimes  copper  is  not 
even  present  in  the  original  ore  in  marketable 
(juantity,  and  becomes  a  factor  only  when  it  ap- 
pears in  a  concentrated  form  in  the  mattes  of  lead 
smelters  and  refiners. 

The  copper  product  of  the  United  States  was  as 
follows,  in  pounds,  in  the  calendar  year  1889 : 

Pounds. 

Arizona  31,586,185 

M  ichigan 87,4.55,675 

.Montana 98,222,444 

New  Mexico.... 3,686.1.'W 

Colorado 1.170,053 

Idaho 156.490 

Nevada '. 26,420 

Utah 65.467 

California 151.505 

Wyoming 100,000 

Vermont   72,000 

.Southern  States 18,144 

Lead  smelters  and  refiners 3,345,442 

Total 226,055,%2 

These  figures  include  the  quantities  of  copper  re- 
ported as  an  incidental  constituent  of  other  ores. 


The  details  of  the  copper  mining  of  the  principal 
producing  States  during  the  year  1889  are  given  in 
the  following  table,  but  does  not  include  those 
mines  fairly  to  be  considered  as  precious-metal 
mines: 

Gold  and  Silver  Produced  in  the  United 
States. — The  following  estimate  of  the  gold  and 
silver  produced  in  the  United  States,  since  the  dis- 
covery of  gold  in  California,  is  complied  from  the 
official  reports  of  the  director  of  the  United  States 
mint : 


Y'ear. 

Gold. 

Silver. 

Total. 

1849 

$40,000,000 

$.50,000 

$40,0.50,000 

1.S.T0 

.50,000.000 

50.000 

50.0.50.000 

1851 

55,000.000 

.50.000 

.55,0.50,000 

1852 

60.000,000 

.50.000 

60.a50.000 

1853 

65,000,000 

.50,000 

65.050,000 

1854 

60,000.000 

.50,000 

60.0.50,000 

1855 

55,000,000 

.50,000 

.55.0.50,000 

1856 

&5,000,000 

50.000 

,5.5.0.50,000 

1857 

55.000,0I« 

.50.000 

55.0.50,000 

1858 

50,000,000 

.500.000 

f)0  ..500.000 

1859 

50,000,000 

100.000 

.50.100,000 

1860 

46,000,000 

1.50,000 

46.1.50,000 

1861 

43,000,000 

2,000.000 

45.000.000 

1862 

.39,200,000 

4,500.000 

43.700,000 

1863 

40.000,000 

S,.50(l.000 

4.S..50O,00O 

1864 

46,100,000 

11,000,000 

57,100,000 

]090 


MINNEAPOLIS  —  MIRECOURT 


Year. 

Gold. 

.Silver. 

Total. 

1865 

53,22,5,000 

11,2,50,000 

64,475,000 

1866 

53,500,000 

10,000,000 

63,500,000 

1807 

51,725,000 

13,500,000 

05,225,000 

1868 

48,000,000 

12,000,000 

60,000,000 

1869 

49,500,000 

12,000,000 

61,500,000 

1870 

.50,000,000 

16,000,000 

06,000,000 

1871 

43,500,000 

23,000,000 

66,500,000 

1872 

36,(100,000 

28,750,000 

61,750,000 

1873 

36.0IX),000 

36,750,000 

71,750,000 

1874 

33,400,902 

37,3W,594 

70,815,490 

1875 

33,467 ,8u6 

31,727,560 

65,195,416 

1876 

S9,929,](i6 

:«,783,016 

7S,712,1.VJ 

1877 

46,897,390 

39,793,573 

86,690,963 

1878 

51,2U(i,360 

45,281,385 

96,487,745 

1879 

:-iS.!«9.S.'i8 

40,812,132 

79,7n,9!iO 

1880 

3fi,OU0.O0O 

38,450,000 

74,450,000 

1881 

34.70().(i00 

43,000,000 

77,700,000 

1882 

32,500,000 

46,800,000 

79,800.000 

1883 

:iU,(iU0.O0O 

46,200,000 

76,200,000 

1884 

39,800,000 

48,800,000 

79,600,000 

1885 

30,800,000 

51,600,000 

83,400,000 

1886 

35,000,000 

51,000,000 

86,000,000 

1887 

33,000,000 

53,3.57,000 

88,357,000 

1888 

33,175,000 

59,195,000 

92,.370,000 

1889 

32,800,000 

64,646,000 

97,446,000 

The  total  value  of  the  precious  metals  exported 
from  Alaska  up  to  the  present  time  approaches 
$4,000,000,  the  annual  production  of  gold  dust  and 
bullion  being  now  .$700,000.  Within  a  radius  of  100 
miles  from  Juneau  quartz  mills  have  been  estab- 
lished, with  an  aggregate  capacity  of  500  stamps. 
Of  these,  240  stamps  are  employed  at  the  well- 
known  Treadwell  or  Paris  mine,  on  Douglas  island, 
capable  of  reducing  600  tons  of  ore  per  diem  when 
both  steam  and  water  power  are  utilized. 

MINNEAPOLIS,  a  city  of  Minnesota,  the  metrop- 
olis of  the  State,  built  on  a  broad  plain  overlooking 
the  Mississippi  River  and  St.  Anthony  Falls,  the 
scenery  being  very  picturesque.  The  celebrated 
Minnehaha  Falls  are  situated  between  Minneapolis 
and  St.  Paul.  Several  important  railroad  lines 
have  their  junctions  at  Jlinneapolis.  This  place 
has  some  extensive  grain  elevators,  large  flour- 
mills,  and  works  for  the  manufacture  of  iron-ma- 
chinery, engines,  boilers,  farm  implements,  furni- 
ture, carriages,  etc.  Population  in  1891,  164,738. 
See  Britannica,  Vol.  XVI,  pp.  474—175. 

MINNEAPOLIS,  a  city,  the  county-seat  of  Otta- 
wa county,  Kan.,  on  Solomon  River.  It  contains 
saw  and  grist-mills,  a  carriage  factory,  a  machine 
shop,  and  foundry. 

MINNEHAHA,  a  beautiful  waterfall  near  Min- 
neapolis, Minn,  The  Minnehaha  River  falls  60  feet 
down  a  limestone  precipice.  The  legend  of  a  love- 
lorn Indian  girl  leaping  over  the  fall  has  been 
utilized  bv  Longfellow  in  his  poem  Minnehalia. 

MINONK,  a  city  of  Woodford  county,  111..  118 
miles  southwest  of  Cliicago.  Mining  and  agricul- 
ture are  the  principal  occupations,  and  the  city  has 
a  steam  mill,  eight  elevators,  and  coal  mines. 

MINOT,  Gboroe  Ricii.vRDS  (1758-1802),  an  Amer- 
ican jurist.  He  began  the  practice  of  law  in  Bos- 
ton, Mass.,  and  in  1771  Ijocame  clerk  of  the  Jlassa- 
chusetts  house  of  representatives.  Inl792hew.as 
made  probate  judge  for  the  county  of  Suffolk,  in 
1790  chief  justice  of  tlie  court  of  common  pleas,  and 
in  1800  judge  of  the  municipal  court  of  Boston. 
.Judge  Minot  published  Hixtoni  of  the  iDsun-ri-tirm  in 
MdxMichiis.'lh  in  J7.W  (1786),  and  ronll,ii.;iiinn  of  t lie 
(Hutchinson's)  History  uf  Mnnsachnneltx  Jlni/  From 
the  year  17.iS,  leith  an  Introductory  Sketch  of  Events 
from  Itn  Orlijlnal  l^eltlntienl  (1798).' 

MINT,  the  common  name  of  a  number  of  fragrant 
labiate  phmts.  See  Britannica,  Vol.  XVI.  p.  491  ; 
Vol.  XII.  p.  289;  Vol.  XVIll,  p.  517. 


MINT,  United  States.  For  general  article  ot 
Mints  and  Coinage,  see  Britannica,  Vol.  XVI,  pp. 
480-91.  In  the  United  States  there  are  five  mints — 
at  Philadelphia  (since  1793),  New  Orleans  (1885), 
San  Francisco  (1854),  Carson  City,  and  Denver — all 
under  the  charge  of  the  Bureau  of  the  Mint  of  the 
United  Stales  Treasury  Department,  and  presided 
over  by  the  Director  of  the  Mint.  Only  the  first 
three  are  in  active  operation,  the  other  two 
are  really  assay  offices;  and  at  Philadelphia  alone 
all  the  authorized  coins  are  struck.  The  United 
States  coins  and  their  weights  are  as  follows,  those 
marked  with  an  asterisk  having  been  discontinued : 


Denonnnatiou         ^Veightin 

Gold. 

Double  eagle 616 

Eagle 258 

Half-eagle    129 

Quarter-eagle  64'6 

3-dollar  piece  — 77'4 

Dollar 26-8 

Silver. 

Dollar. 412-5 

Trade-dollar* 420 

Half-dollar 192-9 

Quarter-dollar 96-45 


Denomination  ^Veigh.in 

20-cent* 77-16 

Dime SS58 

Half-dime* iy-2 

3-cent*   11-51 

Minor  Coins. 

6-cent  (nickel)  .     77-16 

3-cent  (nickel) 30 

2-eent  (bronze)* 96 

Cent  (copper)* 108 

Cent  ( nickel  )* 72 

Cent  (bronze) 48 

Half-cent  (copper)* 84 


The  following  table  shows  the  total  coinage  of 
the  United  States  from  the  beginning  up  to  and 
including  1885,  and  also  for  each  subsequent  year  to 
and  including  the  fiscal   year  closing  June  30, 1890; 


Gold. 

Silver. 

Minor  Coin. 

To  18S5 
l.S.Sfl 
J8S7 
1888 
1889 
1890 

$1,389,981,508 
28,945,542 
23,972,383 
•28,346,170 
25,543,910 
22,021,748 

*  434,224,610 
32,086,709 
35,191,081 
;i4,lS6.095 
31.515,.>iG 
30,815,837 

i  17,463.608 

343,186 

1,215.686 

1,218,977 

900,473 

1.416,862 

Toia! 

$1,518,829,201 

$  606,909,878 

.$  22,504,782 

MINUIT,  or  MiNNEWiT,  Petek  (1580-1641).  a 
Dutch  colonist.  He  was  boru  in  Wesel,  Rhenish 
Prussia,  and  for  a  time  was  deacon  in  the  Walroon 
church  in  his  native  town.  He  then  removed  to 
Holland,  and  in  1625  was  appointed  by  the  Dulch 
West  India  Company  its  director  in  New  Nether- 
lands, and  was  the  first  governor  of  the  island.  He 
returned  to  Europe  in  1632.  and  in  1637  set  sail  from 
Gothenberg  with  a  body  of  Swedish  and  Finnish 
colonists.  He  ascended  the  Delaware  River,  and 
planted  his  colony  near  the  present  city  of  Wil- 
mington. 

MINUTE  MEN,  in  the  American  Revolution,  the 
militia  who  were  prepared  for  service  at  a  minute's 
notice. 

MIRACLES.  See  Britannica,  Vol.  II,  pp.  188, 191 ; 
Vol.  X.  pp.  804,  809;  Vol.  VIII,  p.  141 ;  Vol.  1,  127; 
Vol.  IV   p.  754  ;  Vol.  XXIV,  p.  664. 

MIRAJ.  a  native  state  of  India  in  the  southern 
Mahratta  country.  Population,  69,732.  The  capi- 
tal, Jliraj,  near  the  Kistna  River,  has  a  population 
of  20,(il6. 

MIR.\MAR,  a  palace  standing  on  the  rocky  shore 
of  the  .\driatic  near  Orignano,  six  miles  north-west 
of  Trieste,  llie  home  of  the  Arcliduke  Maximilian, 
afterwards  Emperor  of  Mexieo. 

MIRANDOLA,  a  town  of  northern  Italy,  nine- 
teen milc>s  by  rail  nortlieast  of  Modena.  It  has  a 
fine  cMlhivIr:!)  and  an  old  castle.     Population  3,0l"i9. 

MlRIOCOt'UT,  a  lown  in  tlie  department  of  Vos- 
ges,  236  miles  southeast  of  Paris  with  manufac- 
tures of  lace  and  musical  instruments.  Popula- 
tion 5,341. 


MIRFIELD  —  MISSISSIPPI 


1091 


MIKFIELD,  a  maiuifacluring  town  in  the  West 
Riding  of  Yorkshire,  three  miles  from  Dewsbury, 
and  four  and  a  half  from  Huddersiield.  It  has  a 
townhall,  a  parish  church,  and  manufactories  of 
woolen  cloths,  carpets,  blankets,  etc.  Population 
11,508. 

MISERERE,  the  name  by  which,  in  Catholic 
usage,  the  Fiftieth  Psalm  of  the  Vulgate  (5l8t  in 
Authorized  Version)  is  commonly  known.  It  is 
one  of  the  so-called  "Penitential  Psalms,"  which 
are  said  after  Lauds  on  the  Fridays  in  Lent,  except 
Good  Friday.  It  has  been  commonly  understood 
to  have  been  composed  by  David  in  the  depth  of 
his  remorse  for  the  double  crime  which  the  prophet 
Nathan  rebuked  in  the  well-known  parable  (2  Sam. 
xii).  For  an  account  of  the  celebrated  J/isccert'  of 
Allegri,  performed  annually  in  the  Sistine  chapel, 
see  Britannica,  Vol.  I,  p.  581. 

JIISERERE,  a  small  movable  seat  attached  to 
each  of  the  stall-seats   of  the  choir  of  mediaeval 


The  land  areas  in  square  miles  and  the  popula- 
tions of  the  several  counties  of  the  State  in  1890 
were  as  follows : 


churches  and  chapels,  etc.  It  is  usually  ornament- 
ed with  carved  work,  and  is  so  shaped  that  when 
the  seat-proper  is  folded  up  it  forms  a  small  seat 
at  a  higher  level,  sufficient  to  afiford  some  support 
to  a  person  resting  upon  it.  Aged  and  infirm  ec- 
clesiastics were  allowed  to  use  these  seats  during 
long  services, 

MISHAWAKA,  a  post-village  and  a  railroad 
junction  of  St.  Joseph  county,  Ind.,  four  miles  east 
of  South  Bend.  Wagons,  carriages,  farm-tools, 
windmills,  furniture,  brushes,  woolen  goods  and 
flour  are  made  here.     Population  .S,369. 

MISIONES,  an  Argentine  territory,  lies  between 
the  Uruguay  and  the  Parand,  and  is  bounded  on  all 
sides  but  the  southwest  by  Brazil  and  Paraguay, 
Area,  20,823  square  miles;  population,  30,000 — 
though  before  the  expulsion  of  the  .Tesuits  (1707)  it 
exceeded  100,000,  There  are  three  low  mountain- 
chains  radiating  from  the  center.  The  greater 
portion  of  the  surface  is  covered  with  forest,  pro- 
ducing building  and  dye-woods,  oranges,  medicinal 
herbs,  and  the  yerba  mate.  Maize  is  largely  grown, 
and  sugar-cane  to  some  extent;  of  late  years  sev- 
eral  sugar-houses  have   been    erected.       Capital, 

MISSISSIPPI,  State  of.  For  general  article  on 
Mississipi'i,  see  Britannica,  Vol.  XVI,  pp,  518-524. 
The  United  States  census  of  1890  reports  the  area 
as  46,810  square  miles,  including  470  square  miles  of 
water  surface.  Population,  1,289,600,  an  increase  of 
158,003  during  the  decade.  Capital,  Jackson,  with  a 
population  016,041, 


]                        Counties. 

Areas. 

Pop, 

1890. 

Pop, 

1880. 

400 

•tso 

700 
750 
436 

876 
600 
615 
520 
406 

452 
660 
420 
500 
760 

.'J70 
480 
556 
820 
430 

549 
990 
870 
750 
370 

540 
1,072 
720 
490 
680 

740 
720 
680 
630 
560 

470 
660 
570 
536 
720 

1.055 
720 
770 
895 
560 

,')76 
608 
460 
680 
666 

1,1 16 
720 
530 
415 
400 

755 
61:0 
425 
580 
630 

26,031 
13,115 
18,198 
22,213 
10,585 

29,980 
14,688 
18,773 
19,891 
10,847 

14.516 
15,826 
18,607 
18,342 
30,2,33 

8,299 
24,183 
10,424 

3,906 
14,974 

8,318 
12,481 

39,279 
80,970 
12,318 

11.708 
11.251 
14,785 
18,947 
8,333 

17,961 
20,6,t3 
29,661 
12,318 
14,803 

20,040 
16,869 
17.912 
27,047 
27,321 

9.5,32 
26,042 
30,730 
14,459 
11,146 

16,625 
27,338 
17/!94 
26,977 
2,957 

6,494 

21,203 
14,940 
13,679 
3,286 

17,922 
11,740 
8,382 
10,138 
10,635 

22,649 
14,272 
14,0(M 

Attala 

11,023 

13,492 

17,905 
9,0,36 

16,768 

1    Choctaw 

riniborne 

Clarke 

15,021 

Clav 

17,867 

Copiah 

27,552 

5,998 

De  Soto 

22,9S1 

B'ranklin 

9,729 

3,194 

12,071 

Hancock 

Harrison.  „ 

I    Hiuds 

6.4.39 
7,89f. 
43,95S 
27.164 

10.663 

.lackson 

Jasper 

Jefferson 

Jones  

Kemper 

La/ayette ....                               

Lauderdale.                                  .... 
Lawrence 

7.607 
12,126 
17,314 

3,828 

15,719 
21,671 
21,501 
9,420 
13,146 

20,470 

Leflore 

Lincoln 

10.246 
28.24-1 

25,86i 

6.90: 

Marshall 

29,33(> 

28.5!W 

18,348 

8,741 

1S,4.% 

Noxubee 

Oktibbeha 

29,874 
15.978 

28,3,52 

3.427 

Pike  

J3  85h 

li,],"* 

1,407 

]6,76-,i 

10.845 

6.306 

8,008 

Smith 

8,088 

9JXA 

720 
635 
390 
490 

*S5 
450 
424 
590 

880 

775 
430 
592 
640 
472 
1,020 

9,384 
14, .361 
19,253 
12,957 

9,302 
12,1.58 
15,606 
a3,164 
40,414 

9,817 
12,060 
17.592 
12,089 
16,629 
36,394 

4,661 

Tallahatchie 

10,926 
18,721 

12,807 

8,774 

8,461 

13,030 

31,238 

25  ,.367 

Wilkinson                       

17,81.'. 

10.087 

Yalobusha 

15,649 
,33,8t.T 

1092 


MISSOURI 


The  full  list  of  governors  of  the  State  of  Mis- 
sissippi, including  the  dates  of  their  terms  of  ser- 
vice, is  as  follows : 


TEKIIITORIAL. 


David  Holmes 1817-19 

George  Poindexter  . . .  .1819-21 

Walter  Leake 1821-25 

David  Holmes 182.'>-27 

Gfi-hard  C.  Brandou..  .1827-31 

Abraham  M.  Scott 1831-a3 

Hiram  U.  Buuuels 1833-3.5 

Chark'S  Lynch 1835-37 

Alexander  G.  MeNutt..l837^1 
Tilghmau  M.  Tucker..  .1841-43 

Albert,  (i.  Brown 1843-48 

Josei.h  \V.  Matthews. .  .1848-50 

John  A.  Quitman 1850-51 

John  J.  Guiou 1851 

John  M.  .S 


James  Whitfield 1851-52 

Henrys.  Foote 1852-54 

John  J.  McKae. 1854-58 

William  McWillie 1858-60 

John  J.Pettus 1860-62 

Jacob  Thompson 1862-64 

Charles  Clarke 1864-65 

William  L.  Sharkey. . .  .1865-66 
Benj.  G.  Humphrevs. .  .1866-70 

James  L.  Alcorn 1870-71 

Ridgley  C.  Powers 1871-74 

Adelbert  Ames 1874-78 

John  M.  Stone 1878-82 

Robert  Lowry  1882-90 

tone,  1890-94. 


The  governor's  salary  is  $4,000. 
The  population  of  the  chief  cities  and  towns 
are  as  follows:  Vicksbiirg,  13,298;  Meridian.  10,889; 
Is  atches!,  10,101 ;  Greenville,  6,655 ;  Yazoo  City,  5,247  ; 
CciUinibus,  4,552;  Aberdeen,  3,445;  Watei;  Valley, 
2.S2S. 

Abbreviated  Historic  Outline. — The  Territory 
of  ^lississippi  was  first  visited  by  white  men  (it 
is  believed)  in  1839.  In  the  spring  of  1541  Fer- 
nando de  Soto,  the  first  visitor,  who  had  spent 
about  a  year  on  the  Yazoo  Bottoms,  reached  the 
Mississippi  River.  Over  a  century  later  (1673), 
Joliet  and  Marquette,  two  French  explorers, 
passed  down  the  Mississippi,  touching  at  several 
points  in  the  territory.  In  1682  De  la  Salle  and 
de  Tonti  visited  the  Natchez  Indians.  The  first 
colony  proper  was  established  by  Il)erville,  with 
200  French  immigrants,  on  the  eastern  shore  of 
Biloxi  Bay.  A  French  colony  and  a  fortress  were 
estaljlished  at  Natchez  about  1716  and  named 
Rosalia,  in  honor  of  the  Countess  of  Pontchar- 
train.  Rosalia  Fortress  was  assaulted  and  cap- 
tured by  the  Indians  in  1729,  but  was  retaken  in 
1830.  In  1763  Eastern  Louisiana,  including  most 
of  the  present  State  of  Mississippi,  was  ceded  by 
France  to  Great  Britain,  and  in  17.83  the  whole 
passed  into  the  possession  of  the  United  States 
under  treaty  stipulations.  The  territorial  govern- 
inen!  was  organized  in  1798.  In  Mareii,  1817,  Ala- 
bama was  set  ofif  from  the  Mississippi  Territory, 
and  in  December,  1817,  Mississippi  was  admitted 
into  the  Union  as  a  State. 

Priigress  of  population  nf  Mississippi  by  decades: 
180(1.  8,8.50;  1810,  40,352;  1.S20,  75,4  IS;  1,830,136,621; 
1840.  375,651;  1850,  60.5,948;  1,860,791,631;  1870,827,- 
922;  1880,  1,131,597;   1.S90,  1,289,600. 

For  numerous  addilimial  items  relating  to  Mis- 
sissippi, see  the  article  U.mteu  States,  in  these 
Revisions  and  Additions. 

MISSOURI,  St.stk  1)1'.  For  general  article  on 
MissouKi,  see  Kritannica.  Vol.  XVI,  pp.  524-27. 
The  United  States  census  of  1.S9lt.  reports  the  area 
as  69,415  square  miles,  includinij  6,sii  square  miles  of 
water  surface.  Populalion,  2.679,l.si,  an  increase  of 
510,804  during  I  lie  (leca<le.  ('a|iilal,.refferson  City, 
with  apopulatiou  of  6,7:;2.  Tlic  iMi|iuhvtion  of  other 
chief  cities  and  towns  was  as  follows:  St.  Louis, 
4.50.245;  Kansas  City,  i:'.2,4l(i;  St.  ,Insoph.  .52,811; 
Springfield,  21, ,842;  Sedalia, 13,994  ;  Hannibal,  12,SI6; 
.Toplin,  9,909;  Mdlierly,  8,21,'!;  Carthage.  7,9(i2;  In- 
dependence, 6,373;  Chillicothe,  5,099;  Louisiana, 
5.071;  Trenton,  .5011  ;  Mexico,  4,789;  Clinton,  4.689; 
Warrensburg,  4.682;  Ijexington,  4..538;  Brooktield, 
4,.534;  Fulton.  4,2.S'.i;  Cape   lurardeau,  4,238 ;  Mar- 


shall, 4,258;  Booneville,  4,132;  Maryville,  4,017; 
Columbia,  3,985;  Carrollton,  ,3,858;  Kirks  ville,  3,491; 
Macon  City,  3,350;  Cameron,  2,,S95 ;  Butler,  2,812; 
Holden,  2,515. 

The  land  area  in  square  miles,  and  the  popula- 
tions of  the  several  counties  in  the  State  of  Mis- 
souri in  1890,  were  as  follows : 


Adair 

Andrew. . 

Atchison. 
Audrian 

Barry 


Barton. .. 

Bates 

Benton.  . 
Bollinger 
Boone 


Buchanan.. 

Butler , 

Caldwell.. 
Callaway.. 
Camdem.. 


.Cape  Girardeau. 

Carroll 

Carter 


Cedar . . 

Chariton. 
Christian  . 

Clark 

Clay 

Clinton  . 


Cole 

Cooper — 
Crawford  . 

Dade 

Dallas 


Daviess . . 
DeKalb... 

Dent 

Douglas 
Dunklin.. 


Franklin.. 
Gasconade. 

Gentry 

Greene 

Grundy 


Harrison. 
Henry  — 
Hickory.. 

Holt 

Howard.. 


Howell.... 

Iron 

Jackson . . . 

Jasper 

Jefferson.. 

Johnson. 

Knox 

Laclede 
Lafayette  . 
Lawrence 


Lewis 

Lincoln, , . 

Linn 

Livingston. 
McDonald.. 


Macon . . . 
Madison  . 
Maries .. . 
Marlon.. . 
Mercer  . . 


Miller 

Mississippi .. 
Moniteau  . . .. 

Monroe 

Montgomery. 


17,470 
16,000 
15,533 
22,074 


18.504 
32,223 
14.973 
13,721 
26.043 

70,100 
9,964 

16,152 
25.131 
10.W0 

22.0li0 
25,742 
5,799 
23,301 
15,620 

26,254 
14,017 
15,126 
19356 
17,138 


22,707 
11,961 
17,526 
12.047 

20,456 
14,539 
12,149 
14,111 

15,0.85 

28,0.=)6 
11,700 
19,018 
48,616 


21,033 
28.285 
9.46:^ 
15,469 
17,:«1 

18.018 
9.119 
160,510 
50,500 
22,484 

28.132 
13,601 
14,701 
30,184 
26,228 

15.9&'> 
18,346 
24,121 
20,668 
11, 2K! 

30,515 
9,268 
8,600 
26,283 
14,581 

14,162 
10,134 
15.630 
20.790 
16,850 


15.190 
16,318 
14,556 
19,7.32 
14,495 

10,332 
25,381 
12,:i96 
11,130 
25,422 

49,792 
6,011 
13,640 
23.670 

7,260 

20,998 
23,274 
2.168 
22,431 
10,741 

25.224 
9,628 
15,031 
15,572 
16,073 

15,515 
21,596 
10.756 
12,657 
9,263 

19.145 
13,334 
10.646 
7,753 
9,604 

26,534 
11453 
17.176 
28,801 
15,185 

20.304 
23.906 
7.387 
15,609 
18,428 

8,814 


28,172 
liMi 
11,524 
25,710 
17,583 

15,925 
17.426 
20,016 
10,196 
7,816 

26,222 
8,876 
7,304 
24337 
14,673 

9,805 
9.270 
14,346 
19,071 
16,249 


MISSOURI    V  A  L  L  E  Y  —  M  I  T  C  H  E  L  L 


1093 


•  Morgan 

S'i;w  Madrid. 

Newton 

Nodaway  — 
Oregon 


Ozark 

Pemiscot.. 

Perry 

Pettis 


Phelps.. 

Pike 

Platte... 

Polk 

Pulaski  . 


Putnam... 

F.alls 

Randolph. 

Ray 

Reynolds  . 


Ripley 

Saint  Charles 

Saint  Clair 

Saiute  Genevieve . 
Saint  Francois 


Saint  Louis 

Saint  Louis  city. 

Saline. 

Schuyler 

Scotland 


Scott 

Shannon. 
Shelby... 


Sullivan  . 

Taney 

Texas 

Vernon,. . 
VVarreu... 


Washington,. 

Wayne 

Webster 

Worth  

Wright 


Pop. 

ISSlO, 

Pop. 
l.S»0. 

12.311 
9,317 
-22,108 
i!0,914 
10,2.57 

10,132 
7.694 
18,947 
29,5!4 
5,791 

13.080 
9,79.'> 
.  5,970 
li5,2i'.- 
81,151 

11,824 
5,618 
4.2!)9 
11,895 
27,271 

12.(a:; 

2ii;!:;i 
]fi.2:!s 

9,387 

12..'>68 
26,715 
17,3*  il! 
15,734 
7.250 

I.-),3C5 
12,294 
M,S93 
24.215 

13,5.w 
llj«»i 
22,751 
20,190 
5,722 

8,332 
22,977 
lti,747 

9,883 
17,347 

5,377 
23,065 
14,125 
10,390 
13,822 

;S6,307 
451,770 
:«,762 
11,219 
12,674 

31.888 
350,518 
29.911 
10,4(0 
12,508 

11,228 
8,718 
15,642 
17,327 
7,090 

8,.t87 
3,441 
14,024 
13,441 
4,404 

19,000 
7,973 
19,406 
SI, .Wo 
9,-J13 

16,565 
5,.599 
13,206 
19,.369 
.  10,805 

1.5.153 
11,727 
15.177 

12,896 
9,0Ui; 
12,175 

The  full  list  of  governors  of  the  State,  with  their 
dati?  of  service,  is  shown  in  the  subjoined  table : 


.\l«.vander  McNair. 
Kryderick   Bates.. 

.lolin   Miller 

Diiiiif!l  Dunklin..  . 
Lil'mrn  N.  Bosss.. 
Tlioni.w  Uevnokls.. 
John  C.  Edwards.. 

.■\u3tiii  A.  King 

Sterling  Price 

Truston  Polk 

iLi!icurk  Johnson.. 
It.  .M.  Stewart 


.1820-24 
.1821-26  t 

.1826-32  I 
.18;«-36  ' 
1836-40 
.1840-44 
.1844-48 
.1818-53 
.  18.53-.57  ' 
....]S,V 


.IS.".7 


Claiborne   F.  .Jackson 1861 

Muniilton  K.  (iiiuible.  .1861-64 

Thomas  C.  t'letoher 1865-09 

Josupti  W.  McClurg 1869-71 

Benj.  Gratz   Brown 1871-73 

Silas  Woodson 1873-75 

Charles  H.  Hardin 187.5-77 

John  S.  Phelps 1877-81 

ThoniasT.Critteuden...l881-S5 

JohnS.Murmaduke 88.5-187 

Albert  T.  Morehouse.  .  .1887-S9 
David  R.Francis 1889-93 


Governor  Francis'  term  expires  Jan.  10, 1893.  The 
governor's  salary  is  ifo.OOO. 

.\r.HRKVIATED    HiSTOKIC     RECORD     OP    MISSOURI. — 

Territory  first  explored  by  De  .Soto,  in  1541-42;  visi- 
tcu  by  Marquette  and  followers  in  1673.  It  formed 
part  of  "Louisiana  Hurc.hase,"a  portion  of  which  was 
ors'inized  as  the  District  of  Louisiana  in  1805.  The 
tet  ritory  took  the  name  of  Missouri  in  1812.  In  1821 
Missouri  was  admitted  into  the  Union  the  "Missouri 
Ooinpromise,"  by  which  compact  it  was  provided 
*  that  slavery  should  be  forever  excluded  "from  all 
that  part  of  Louisiana  north  of  36°  .'50'  latitude,  ex- 
ci'jit  Mis!<ouri." 

Progress  of  population  of  Missouri  by  decades : 
1810,  20,845;  1820,  66,557;  18.30.  140,455;  1840,383,- 
702:  1.850.  6,82,044;  1860,  I.1.S2,012;  1.870.  1.721,295; 
1880,  2,16s.::;,-;0:  i.'^fti,  2.i;::i.ls.|. 


For  numerous  additional  items  relating  to  Mis- 
souri, see  the  article  United  States  in  these  Re- 
visions and  Additions. 

MISSOURI  VALLEY,  a  post-village  and  a  rail- 
road junction  of  Harrison  county,  Iowa,  situated 
twenty-one  miles  north  of  Council  Bluffs,  onWillow 
River. 

MISTASSINI,  Lake,  in  Labrador,  some  300 
miles  north  of  Quebec,  is  strictly  speaking  an  ex- 
pansion of  the  River  Rupert,  which  Hows  into  the 
southern  extremity  of  Hudson  Bay.  It  is  100  miles 
long  from  northeast  to  southwest  by  twelve  in 
average  breadth. 

MISTRAL,  Frederick,  a  Provencal  poet,  born  a 
peasant's  son  near  Maillaune,  Sept.  8,  1830,  and 
studied  law  at  Avignon ;  but  for  law  he  had  no  lik- 
ing, and  went  home  to  work  on  the  land  and  to  write 
poetry.  In  1859  he  published  the  epic  Mir'tio, 
written  in  his  native  Pro^en^al  dialect.  This 
charming  representation  of  life  in  southern  France 
made  Mistral's  name  famous  throughout  the  coun- 
try, and  gained  for  him  the  poet's  prize  of  the 
French  Academy  and  the  cross  of  the  Legion  of 
Honor.  It  also  led  to  the  formation  of  tlie  society 
called  Lou  Felibrige,  which  set  itself  to  create  a 
modern  Provencal  literature.  In  1807  IMistral 
published  a  second  epic,  Calrndou,  and  in  1876  a 
volume  of  poems  entitled  Lis  Iselo  d'Or,  songs 
steeped  in  the  golden  sunshine  of  the  Mediterran- 
ean and  its  vine-clad  shores.  Since  then  he  has 
written  a  novel,  Nerto,  and  issued  a  dictionary  of 
the  Provenr;al  dialect,  the  preparation  of  which  oc- 
cupied him  many  years. 

.MISTRETTA,  a  town  of  Sicily,  near  the  north 
coast,  half-way  between  Palermo  and  Messina. 
Population,  12,235. 

MITCIIEL,  John  (1815-1875),  an  Irish  patriot. 
He  practiced  law  for  several  years  in  Banbridge, 
and  then  for  a  time  was  editor  of  the  Dublin 
"Nation."  •  In  1847  he  founded  the  "United  Irish- 
man," and  the  following  year  was  arrested  for 
treason.  He  was  sentenced  to  fourteen  years  of 
banishment,  and  sent  to  Tasmania,  but  escaped  to 
New  York  in  18.53.  There  he  started  the  "Citizen," 
and  advocated  slavery,  and  later  established  the 
"Irisli  Citizen."'  Subsequently  he  returned  to  Ire- 
land, and  was  elected  to  Pariianient  in  1874,  but 
5vas  declared  ineligible.  The  following  year  he 
was  again  returned,  but  died  l>efore  any  action  was 
taken  in  his  case.  lie  published  Life  <»/  Hugh  O'Niel, 
Prince  of  Ulster  (1845) ;  The  Last  Conqtiest  of  Ireland 
{Perhaps)  1861;  History  of  Ireland  from  the  Treaty  of 
Limerick  (1868) ;  and  Life  and  Times  of  Aodh  O'Neil, 
Prince  of  Ulster  (1868). 

MITCJHELL.  DoN.\i.D  Grant,  an  American  au- 
thor, born  in  1822.  From  1841  to  1844  he  worked 
on  a  farm  for  the  benefit  of  his  health,  and  tlien 
spent  two  years  in  Europe  for  the  same  purpose. 
From  that  time  his  life  has  been  given  almost  en- 
tirely to  literature.  He  has  published  Fresh  Glean- 
ings, or  a  New  Sheaf  from  the  Old  Field  of  Continen- 
tal Europe  (1847);  Tlie  Battle  Summer  (1850);  The 
Reveries  of  a  Bachelor  (1851);  Dream  Life  (1852);  My 
Farm  at  Edgenood  (1863) ;  Wet  Days  at  Edgeieood 
(1864) ;  Doctor  John  (1866)  ;  Biiral  Studies,  with  Xotes 
for  Country  Places  (1867);  and  About  Old  Story- 
tellers (1875).  Many  of  his  books  have  been 
written  under  the  pen-name  of  "Ike  Marvel." 

MITCHELL.  John  Kearsle5'  (  1798-1858  ),  an 
American  physician.  From  1819  to  1822  he  was  a 
ship-surgeon,  and  then  settled  in  Philadelphia.  In 
1824  he  became  lecturer  on  the  iiistitutPS  of  medi- 
cine and  physiology  at  the  Philadelphia  Medical 
Institute,  and  in  1826  was  made  professor  of  chem- 
istry. From  1.83.3  to  M^U  he  held  a  similar  position 
in  Franklin  Institute,  and  then  was  chosen  profes- 


1091 


M  I  T  C  H  E  L  L  —  M  0  II  A  V  E    INDIANS 


sor  of  the  theory  and  pract  ico  of  medicine  in  Jef- 
ferson Medical  College,  in  which  capacity  he  served 
until  his  death.  He  was  the  author  of  Saint  Hele- 
na, a  poem,  (1821);  Indecision,  a  Tale  of  the  Far 
West,  anil  other  Poems  (1839) ;  On  the  Wisdom,  Good- 
ness, and  Power  of  God  an  Illustrated  in  the  Properties 
of  Water  (1834);  On  the  CnipliKitimous  Origin  of  Ma- 
larious and  Epidemic  Fenrs  (1S4;)) ;  and  Five  Essays 
on   Varioi'f  Chemical  ami  Mi  ilnal  Snhjects  (1858). 

MITCHELL,  Maria  (1SIS-1,S89),  an  American  as- 
tronomer. She  studied  under  her  father  who  was 
an  astronomer,  and  in  1847  she  discovered  a  comet, 
for  which  she  received  a  gold  medal  from  the  King 
of  Denmark.  In  1865  she  became  professor  of  as- 
tronomy at  Vassar  College,  which  position  she 
held  till  her  death.  Miss  Mitchell  was  the  first 
woman  to  be  elected  to  the  American  academy  of 
arts  and  sciences. 

MITCHELL,  Samuel  Weir,  an  American  physi- 
ologist, born  in  Philadelphia,  Pa.,  Feb.  15,  1829.  He 
is  celebrated  for  his  researches  on  nerve-physiolo- 
gy and  the  poison  of  serpents,  and  for  his  valuable 
Smithsonian  Contribution. 

MITCHELL,  Samuel  Latham,  an  American  natu- 
ralist and  physician,  born  at  North  Hempstead, 
N.  Y.,  Aug.  20.  1764,  died  in  1831.  He  was  an 
active  promoter  of  the  study  of  natural  science,  and 
the  author  of  several  scientific  works.  He  held 
many  important  educational  and  legislative  offices. 

MITOHELL,  a  manufacturing  town  of  Perth 
county,  Ont.,  thirty-two  miles  southeast  of  Goderich. 

MITOHELL,  a  railroad  junction  and  county-seat 
of  Davison  county,  S.  Dak.,  situated  on  a  branch 
of  the  Dakota  River.  It  is  the  seat  of  a  Methodist 
University. 

MITCHELL,  a  post-village  and  a  railroad  junc- 
tion of  Lawrence  county,  Ind.,  situated  62  rnih  tf 
northwest  of  New  Albany. 

MITFORD,  William,  an  English  historian,  bom 
in  London  Feb.  10,  1744,  died  at  Exbury,  Feb.  8, 
1827.  He  entered  Queen's  College,  Oxford,  but  left 
without  a  degree.  In  1761  he  succeeded  to  the 
family  estate  of  Exbury  near  the  New  Forest,  and 
in  1769  became  a  captain  in  the  South  Hampshire 
militia,  of  which  Gilibon  was  then  major.  By  Gib- 
bon's advice  and  encouragement  he  was  induced  to 
undertake  liis  History  of  Greece.  The  author  is  an 
intense  hater  of  democracy,  and  can  see  in  Philip 
of  Macedon  nothing  but  a  great  statesman,  in  De- 
mosthenes nothing  but  a  noisy  demagogue.  Yet 
his  zeal  urged  him,  for  the  very  purpose  of  substan- 
tiating his  views,  to  search  more  minutely  and 
critically  than  his  predecessors  into  certain  por- 
tions of  Greek  history,  and  the  result  was  that 
Mitford's  work  held  the  highest  place  in  the 
opinion  of  scholars  until  the  appearance  of  Thirl- 
wall  and  Grote.  He  sat  in  parliament  from  1783  to 
1818. 

MITTWEIDA,  a  town  of  Saxony,  11  miles  from 
Chemnitz.  It  has  an  engineers'  and  a  weavers' 
school,  and  manufactures  linen,  woolen  and  cotton 
goods.    Population,  9,461. 

MIVART,  St.  Geouoe,  a  distinguished  naturalist, 
born  in  England  in  1827.  He  was  educated  for  the 
bar,  but  devoted  himself  to  biological  sciences.  In 
1862-84  he  acted  as  professor  of  zoology  and  biology 
at  the  Roman  Catholic  University  College  in  Ken- 
sington, and  in  1890  was  appointed  to  the  chair  of 
philosopliy  of  natural  history  at  Lovain.  lie  is 
known  as  an  able  and  zealous  opponent  of  the 
"Natural  Selection"  theory.  Among  his  works  are 
The  Genesis  of  Species;  Man  and  Apes;  Contemporarij 
Evolution.;  Lessons  froia  Xnlure;  The  Cat;  Xatiire  and 
Thoui)lit,  and  The  Origin  of  Unman  Reason. 

MIZEN,  the  sternmost  of  the  masts  in  a  three- 
masted  vessel. 


MNEMOSYNE,  in  Greek  mythology,  the  daugh- 
ter of  Uranus,  and  mother  of  the  nine  muses  liy 
Zeus.  The  principal  seat  of  her  worship  was  at 
Eleutherw,  in  Bteotia. 

MOBERLY,  GEom:E,  an  English  author  and  edu- 
cator, born  about  1803,  died  July  6,  1885.  He  was 
long  head-master  of  AVinchester  School,  and  in  1869 
became  bishop  of  Salisbury.  His  writings  were 
mostly  theological. 

MOBERLY,  a  city  and  railroad  center  of  Ran- 
dolph county,  Mo..  148  miles  west  of  St.  Louis.  It 
contains  the  shops  of  the  Wabash  Western  Rail- 
road Company,  flour  and  planing  mills,  and  repair 
shops  for  all  kinds  of  machinery.  Population  in 
1890,  8,215. 

MOBILE,  a  city  of  Alabama.  Population  in 
1890,  31,822.     See  Bri  tannica,  Vol.  X YI,  pp.  530^40. 

MOCCASIN,  the  shoe  of  the  North  American  In- 
dian, made  all  of  soft  hide,  and  often  ornamented. 
The  Moccasin  Snake  (Toximphis  jiisclrorous)  of 
North  America  is  a  brown-colored  poisonous  swamp 
snake;  the  skin  is  marked  with  black  bars. 

MOCK  ORANGE,  the  name  applied  in  England 
to  the  Syringa,  and  in  the  United  States  to  the 
Prtirnis  Caroliniana,  a  small  evergreen  resembling 
the  cherry-laurel. 

MODESTO,  a  post-village,  the  county-seat  of 
Stanislaus  county,  Cal.,  29  miles  southeast  of 
Stockton. 

MODJESKA.  Helena,  a  Polish  actress,  born  in 
Cracow,  Oct.  12,  1844.  She  began  to  act  in  a  travel- 
ing company  in  1861  and  four  years  later  she  made 
a  great  name  at  Cracow,  and  from  1868  to  1876 
was  the  first  actress  at  Warsaw.  Then  she  settled 
with  her  second  husl)and  near  Los  Angeles,  Cal.,  to 
try  farming;  but  the  enterprise  not  succeeding, 
she  returned  to  the  stage,  and  won  a  complete  tri- 
umph as  Adrienne  Lecouvreur  at  San  Francisco  in 
1877,  although  she  acted  in  English,  of  which  lan- 
guage she  had  known  nothing  seven  months  be- 
fore. Since  lliat  time  she  has  been  acknowledged 
one  of  the  best  of  modern  emotional  actresses, 
achieving  her  greatest  triumph,  both  in  the  United 
States  and  in  Great  Britain,  in  such  roles  as  Juliet, 
Rosalind,  Beatrice,  and  in  the  Dame  aux  CamSHv.- 
and  Sardou's  Odette. 

MODOCS.  See  North  American  Indians,  in  thesn 
Revisions  and  Additions. 

MODULATION,  in  Mrsio.  When  in  the  course 
of  a  melody  the  keynote  is  changed,  and  the  orig- 
inal scale  altered  by  the  introduction  of  a  new  sharp- 
er flat,  such  change  is  called  modulation.  The  art 
of  good  modulation  from  one  key  to  another  con- 
sists in  the  proper  choice  of  intermediate  chords. 
Sudden  transitions,  without  intermediate  chords, 
should  be  employed  but  sparingly. 

MOFUSSIL  (from  an  Arabic  word  meaning  "sep- 
arate") a  term  commonly  used  by  Anglo-Indians 
fur  the  rural  part  of  a  district  as  opposed  to  the 
administrative  headquarters.  Thus  in  Bengal  the 
]\Iofussil  means  practically  the  whole  province  be- 
yond the  city  Calcutta. 

MOGUER.  a  town  and  small  port  of  Spain,  on 
the  Rio  Tinto,  near  its  mouth,  and  eight  miles 
east  of  Huelva,  with  some  trade.  Poi)ulation. 
8.322. 

.MOHAIR.     See  Britannica,  Vol.  XVI.  p.  544. 

MOHARRAINI,  the  first  month  of  the  Mohammc 
dan  year,  kept  by  the  Shiite  I\Iohaninied;ins  as  a 
month  of  feasting  and  mourning,  in  comniemora- 
ti<m  of  the  sufTerings  of  Hassan  and  Hussein, 
nephews  of  the  Prophet.  A  celebrated  passion-play 
is  performed  during  this  month  in  honor  of  the  two 
saints  at  several  towns ;n  Persia  and  India. 

MOHAVE  INDI.^NS.  See  Noinn  American  In- 
unxs  in  these  Revisions  and  Addiliims. 


MOHAVE    D  E  S  E  R  T  —  M  0  M  M  S  E  N 


1095 


MOHAVE  DBSERT,  a  basin,  with  little  water  or 
vegetation,  ehietly  in  the  southeast  of  California, 
and  extending  into  Arizona.  The  Jlohave  River 
rises  in  the  San  Bernardino  range,  and  finally  dis- 
appears in  the  ^Mohave  Sink. 

MOHAWKS.  See  North  Americas  I.vdi.ans  in 
these  Itevislons  and  Additions. 

MOHEG.\XS.  See  North  American  Indi.\xs  in 
these  Revisions  and  Additions. 

MOIIL,  Hugo  von,  a  German  botanist,  born  at 
Stuttgart  in  1805,  died  at  Tubingen  in  1872.  He 
studied  medicine  at  the  University  of  Tiibingen, 
and  in  183.5  was  made  professor  of  botany  there. 
He  was  in  his  time  the  highest  authority  on  veg- 
etable anatomy  and  physiology.  He  published 
Beitrdge  zur  Anatomie  and  Physlologie  de.r  Gewiichae; 
Griindziige  zur  Anatomie  and  Physiologie  der  vegeta- 
bilischen  Zelle  (1851) ;  and  Vermiachte  Schriften. 

MOIRE  (from  the  French  verb  »io/nr.  "to  water," 
silk  in  a  large  pat  tern,  as  distinguislied  from  tabiser, 
to  water  or  waive  it  in  a  small  pattern),  silks  fig- 
ured by  the  peculiar  process  called  "watering." 
They  are  wetted,  and  then  folded  with  particular 
care,  to  ensure  the  threads  of  the  fabric  lying  all  in 
the  same  direction,  and  not  crossing  each  other,  ex- 
cept as  in  the  usual  way  of  the  web  and  the  warp. 
The  folded  pieces  of  silk  are  then  submitted  to  an 
enormous  pressure,  generally  in  a  hydraulic  ma- 
chine. By  this  pressure  the  air  is  slowly  expelled, 
and  in  escaping  draws  the  moisture  into  curious 
waved  lines,  which  leaves  the  permanent  marking 
called  watering. 

MOLESCHOTT,  J.\kob,  a  Dutch  physiologist, 
born  at  Bois-le-Duc,  Aug.  9,  1822.  He  studied  med- 
icine at  Heidelberg,  and  taught  there  physiology, 
anatomy  and  anthropology  from  1847  until  1854, 
when  he  resigned  his  chair,  the  senate  of  the  uni- 
versity liaving  "warned"  him  on  account  of  the 
strong  materialistic  tendency  of  his  writings.  In 
1853  he  est;i))lished  a  private  laboratory  and  worked 
in  it  until  IH.jfi,  when  he  was  nominated  professor  of 
physiology  at  Ziirich  ;  in  1861  he  moved  to  the  uni- 
versity of  Turin,  and  in  1878  to  that  of  Rome.  He 
has  written  Unlersuchnngcn  zur  Naturbhre  des  Men- 
schen  und  der  Tiere;  Licht  und  Lcbcn;  KUine  Schrif- 
ten. and  other  works. 

MOLESWORTH,  Mrs.  .M.\kv  Louis.i  Stew.^kt, 
novelist  and  popular  writer  for  the  young.  She  was 
born  of  Scotch  parentage  at  Rotterdam,  and  her 
childhood  was  passed  in  Manchester  and  Scotland, 
and  partly  in  Switzerland.  She  began  to  write  when 
very  young,  and  her  first  attempts  were  published 
when  she  was  only  sixteen.  Her  first  complete 
works  were  written  under  the  nam  de  phnne  of  Enuis 
Graham,  when  she  was  about  twenty-four.  When 
she  was  about  thirty  she  began  to  write  for  chil- 
dren and  was  at  once  successful,  and  has  since  held 
foremost  rank  in  this  department.  She  has  also 
contributed  largely  to  the  better  class  of  juvenile 
magazines. 

MOLESWORTH  ,  Wii.lum  N.a.ssau,  an  English 
divine  and  historian,  born  at  Southampton  in  1816, 
and  died  in  1877.  He  is  best  known  by  his  valuable 
History  of  England  From  the  Year  1830.  His  brother 
Guilford,  born  at  Millbrook  in  1828,  is  an  eminent 
civil  engineer,  and  author  of  the  popular  Pocket- 
book  of  Engineering  Fonnube. 

MOLINE,  a  city  of  Illinois.  Population  in  1890, 
11,995.  See  Britannica,  Vol.  XVI,  p.  631. 
r  MOLTKE,  Helmcth,  Coi-nt  Von,  field-marshal 
of  the  German  empire,  born  at  Parchim.  in  Meck- 
lenburg-Schwerin,  Oct.  26,  1800,  died  April  24,  1891. 
As  chief  of  the  general  staff  at  Berlin  ho  planned 
the  Prussian  campaign  of  1866  against  .\ustria,  and 
the  German  canipalgn  of  1870-71  against  France. 
In   1812   he   WM-  ■••■"I  I"  <li<"   miliiarv  ai'iiileniv   at 


Copenhagen,  where  he  remained  under  the  strict- 
est discipline  for  six  years,  and  distinguished  him- 
self in  the  scientific  branches  of  military  study.  In 
1819  he  became  lieutenant  in  a  Danish  regiment, 
but  on  the  separation  of  Denmark  from  Norway  he 
determined  to  retire  from  the  Danish  and  enter  the 
Prussian  service.  This  change  being  effected,  he 
entered  a  Prussian  regiment  at  Frankfort.  His 
parents  having  lost  the  whole  of  their  property 
from  war  and  misfortune,  he  had  to  undergo  many 
hardships  in  order  to  maintain  himself  on  the 
slender  pay  of  a  Prussian  officer,  and  at  the  same 
time  obtain  instruction  in  foreign  languages.  In 
1832  he  was  appointed  to  the  staff,  and  for  three 
years  he  continued  to  develop  by  scientific  and  ex- 
act study  his  extraordinary  powers  of  combination 
and  organization.  He  obtained  leave  to  travel, 
and,  arriving  in  Turkey  at  a  critical  moment,  he 
was  entrusted  by  the  sultan  with  the  task  of  re- 
modelling the  Turkish  army,  and  remained  with 
Mahmoud  II.  as  military  adviser  till  October,  1839, 
when  he  returned  to  his  old  position  at  Berlin. 
From  1858  to  1888  he  was  chief  of  the  general  staff 
in  Berlin,  and  he  at  once  commenced  the  re-organi- 
zation of  the  Prussian  army.  He  elaborated  plans 
for  the  defense  of  the  German  coasts,  and  the  crea- 
tion of  a  German  navy.  His  wonderful  strategetical 
power  was  displayed  in  the  wars  with  Denmark  in 
186.3-4,  with  Austria  in  1866,  and  with  France  in 
1870-71,  bringing  them  all  to  triumphant  issues. 
He  married  in  1845,  Mary  Burt,  the  daughter  of  an 
English  gentleman  residing  in  Holstein,  but  had  no 
family,  and  his  wife  died  in  1868.  He  mas  a  man  of 
great  modesty  and  simplicity,  and  so  reserved  as 
to  have  gained  the  popular  epithet  of  TJie  Sil'iit. 
His  ninetieth  birthday  v.as  the  occasion  of  numer- 
ous honors  at  the  hands  of  the  emperor  and  the  Ger- 
man people.  He  was  tlie  author  of  several  import- 
ant works,  of  which  the  first.  Litters  from  Turkey 
and  the  Campaign  in  Turkey,  were  published  in  1835, 
and  the  Italian  Cowpainn  of  1S59  in  1868.  The  His- 
tory of  the  German  and  French  War  of  /570-7i,  pub- 
lished by  the  general  staff  in  Berlin,  was  written 
entirely  under  his  direction,  and  the  greater  part 
of  it  is  actually  from  his  pen.  His  Letters  from 
Russia,  written  in  1856  to  his  wife,  were  published 
in  1877. 

MOMIEN,  a  Chinese  frontier  town  in  the  extreme 
west  of  Yunnan.  135  miles  northeast  of  Bhamo. 

MOMMSEN.  Christian  Matthias  Tiieodor.  the 
most  learned  historian  of  Rome,  born  at  Garding, 
in  Sleswick,  Nov.  30, 1817.  He  studied  at  Kiel,  m-xt 
spent  three  years  traversing  France  and  Italy  in 
the  study  of  Roman  inscriptions  under  commisi-ion 
of  the  Berlin  Academy,  and  in  the  autumn  of  1.S48 
was  appointed  to  a  chair  of  jurisprudence  at  Leip- 
zig, of  which  two  years  later  he  was  deprived  for 
the  part  he  took  in  politics.  In  18-52  he  was  ap- 
pointed to  the  chair  of  Roman  law  at  Ziirich,  in 
1854  at  Breslau,  and  in  1858  to  that  of  ancient  liis- 
tory  at  Berlin.  Here  he  was  engaged  for  many 
years  in  editing  the  m.onumental  Corpus  Inscri])- 
iionum  Latinarum,  and  in  1873  he  was  elected  per- 
petual secretary  of  the  academy.  In  1882  he  w  as 
tried  for  slandering  Bismark  in  an  election  speech, 
but  was  cleared  both  in  the  lower  court  and  in 
that  of  appeal.  His  fine  library  was  burned  in  Ih.sO, 
whereupon  a  number  of  English  students  presented 
him  with  a  collection  of  books  to  make  good  part 
of  his  loss.  Freeman  characterizes  Mommsen  as 
"the  greatest  scholar  of  our  times,  well-nigh  the 
greatest  scholar  of  all  times  .  .  .  language,  law, 
mythology,  customs, antiquities,  coins,  inscriptions, 
every  source  of  knowledge  of  every  kind — lie  is 
master  of  rhem  all."  Of  his  brothers,  two  have 
achievt'd  distinction;      Tycho.    ti^ni     :ir   Harding, 


1096 


M  0  M  P  0  X  —  .AI  0  N  S  I  G  N  0  R 


May  23,  1810,  studied  at  Kiel,  traversed  Italy  and 
Greece,  and  held  educational  appointments  at 
Eisenach,  Oldenburg,  and  Frankfort-on-Main  until 
his  retirement  in  1885.  August,  born  at  Oldesloe, 
July  25,  1821,  studied  at  Kiel,  and  taught  in  schools 
at  Hamburg,  Parchim,  and  Sleswick.  Most  of  his 
works  belong  to  the  field  of  Greek  and  Roman 
chronology. 

MOMPOX,  or  MoMfos,  a  town  of  Bolivar  in  Co- 
lombia, on  the  Magdalena,  110  miles  southeast  of 
Cartagena.  Founded  in  1538;  it  contains  a  good 
secondary  school  and  a  distillery.  Population, 
8,000. 

MONACO.  For  general  article  on  this  small 
principality  see  Britannica,  Vol.  XVI,  pp.  717-718. 
The  latest  accredited  reports  place  the  area  at 
eight  square  miles;  population  (in  1890),  12,000,  of 
whom  3,292  were  in  the  town  of  Monaco,  6,218  in 
Coudamine,  and  3,794  in  Monte  Carlo.  The  capital 
is  under  French  protection.  Prince  Albert  (born 
in  18-18,  succeeded  his  father.  Prince  Charles  III. 
Sept.  10,  1889),  the  present  sovereign,  has  one  son, 
Louis,  by  a  marriage,  dissolved  in  1880,  with  Lady 
Mary  Hamilton.*  About  1,000  of  the  inhabitants 
are  employed  in  the  rooms  and  gardens  of  the  cele- 
brated   Casino.    These    gambling-rooms,  built  at 


Monte  Carlo  on  ground  leased  from  the  Prince  of 
Monaco,  1)p1i>h'.j  to  a  joint  stock  company,  and  have 
about  400,000  visitors.  The  climate  of  Monaco  is 
milder  than  ihat  of  any  otiier  place  in  the  Riviera; 
palms  and  aloes  grow  most  luxuriantly,  and  rare 
wild-Huwers  are  found  on  its  rocky  promontory. 
See  Metivier,  Moiinco  el  si:i  Prirces  (2d  ed.  1865),  and 
Boyer  de  Sainte-  Suzanne,  La  Princirpautf,  de  Monaco 
(1884). 

MONA  P.\S.SAGE,  a  water-way  for  vessels  be- 
tween San  Domingo  and  Porto  Rico.  On  the  west 
end  of  Porlo  Rico  is  Mayaguez  Harbor  opening  di- 
rectly out  upon  the  Mona  Passage.  The  water  at 
the  landing  is  not  deep  enough  for  vessels  of  large 
draft,  and  for  them  the  anchorage  is  about  a  half 
mile  from  shore. 

MoNA  Island  is  a  small,  desolate,  but  beautiful 
island  lying  about  the  middle  of  the  M<ina  Passage. 

MONCALIKKI,  a  (own  of  Italy,  on  the  Po,  five 
miles  south  of  Turin,  with  a  royal  palace  (1470). 
Population,  3,403. 


*The  miirrin^o   wiis  deiilnrcd  dissolved   by  the   Pope  of 
Rome,  Jan.  ■".  KKO.  .-iiid  I);-  tbe  .■ciKii'ngt  prince,  July  28,  1S,S0. 


'MONCKTOX,  Robert,  a  British  general,  gov- 
ernor of  Xew  York  in  17(52,  and  lieutenant-general 
in  1770.     He  died  in  1782. 

MONCONTOUR,  a  village  in  the  French  depart- 
ment of  Vienne,  48  mile.s  from  Tours.  It  was  tla- 
scene  of  the  defeat  of  the  Huguenots  under  Coligny 
by  the  troops  of  the  King  of  France,  Oct.  3,  1509. 

MONEY.  See  Britannica,  Vol.  XVI,  pp.  720- 
738. 

MONITOR.  See  Navy,  in  these  Revisions  and 
Additions. 

MONK,  Maria  (1817-50),  a  woman  of  bad  charac- 
ter who  pretended  in  1835  to  have  escaped  from  the 
Hotel  Dieu  nunnery  at  Montreal,  and  who,  coming 
to  New  York,  found  a  good  many  credulous  adher- 
ents, and  published  Aifful  Disclu.'<uirs  and  Furthrr 
Disclosiun;t,  which  had  an  enormous  sale. 

MONMOUTH,  a  city,  the  county-seat  of  AVarren 
county.  111.,  179  miles  by  rail  west-southwest  of 
Chicago.  It  is  the  seat  of  Monmouth  College 
(United  Presbyterian,  1856),  with  about  400  stu- 
dents, and  manufactures  agricultural  implements, 
sewer  pipes  and  cigars.    Population  in  1890,  5,837. 

MONGX'IOUS,  a  term  introduced  by  Linnaeus  to 
those  plants  which  have  the  stamens  and  pistil  in 
different  flowers,  but  on  the  same  plant.  Such 
plants  formed  one  of  the  classes  of  the  Linnean 
system,  but  were  obviously  a  specially  artificial 
alliance,  since  that  partial  or  complete  separation 
of  the  sexes  to  which  we  apply  the  terms  monre- 
eious  or  dioecious  respectively  arises  continually 
among  the  most  unrelated  plants  or  animals. 

MONOGRAM,  a  character  composed  of  two  or 
more  letters  of  the  alphabet,  often  interlaced  M-ith 
other  lines,  and  used  as  a  cipher  or  abbreviation  of 
;i  name.  A  perfect  monogram  is  one  in  which  all 
till-  litters  of  the  word  are  to  be  traced. 

:\t(_)NOGRAPH,  a  work  in  which  a  particular  sub- 
ject in  any  science  is  treated  by  itself,  and  forms 
the  whole  subject  of  the  work — "an  all-sided  and 
exhaustive  study  of  a  special  or  limited  subject." 
as  it  has  been  called.  ^Monographs  have  con- 
tributed much  to  our  knowledge,  especially  in  the 
department  of  the  natural  sciences.  The  term, 
liowever,  is  often  loosely  used  for  a  small  book  on 
niisrollaneous  topics. 

JIONONGAHELA,  a  river  which  rises  in  AVest 
'  irginia  and  flows  north  to  Pittsburgh,  where  it 
unites  will)  the  Allegheny  to  form  the  Ohio. 

i\l ( )NONG  A 11 ELA  CITY,  a  post-borough  of  Wash- 
ington county.  Pa.,  21  miles  south  of  Pittsburgh.  It 
contains  a  strawlioard  paper-mill,  planing-mills, 
nianilla paper-mill,  and  gas  works.  Thrrearecoal- 
mines  in  the  vicinity.     Population  4,086. 

MONROE,  a  city,  the  capital  of  Ouachita 
parish,  in  the  nortl}ern  part  of  Louisiana  oa:  Ouachita 
River.     Pojiulation,  3,251. 

MONROE,  a  post-village,  the  county-seat  of 
Union  county,  N.  C.  in  the  southern  part  of  the 
State,  near  a'branch  of  the  Yadkin  River.  It  man- 
ufactures carri.'iges. 

MONROE,  a  post-village,  the  county-seat  of 
(ireen  county.  Wis.,  on  a  branch  of  the  (!hicago, 
Milwaukee  &  St.  Paul  Railroad.  It  has  a  foundry 
and  wagon  factories.     Population  3,865. 

MONROE  DOCTRINE.  See  Britannica,  VoL 
XIII,  p.  192;  Vol.  XVI,  p.  761  ;  VoL  XXIII,  p.  762. 
MONROEVILLE,  a  jiost-village  and  a  railroad 
center  of  Huron  counly.  Ohio,  sixty  miles  west  of 
Cleveland.  It  has  grain  warehouses,  and  manu- 
factures flour,  beer  and  woolen  goods. 

MONSIGNOR,  a  title  of  honor  given  to  prelates 
of  the  Roman  Catholic  t!hurch.  Formerly  in  France 
the  corresponding  title  of  Moiiseitjiirur  was  allowed 
to  all  high  dignitaries  of  the  church,  to  the  prin- 
ces   of  the  blood   royal,  to  the  higher  nobles,  and 


M  0  N  S  T  R  A  N  C  E  —  .M  0  N  T    C  E  N  I  S 


1097 


to  tlie  presidents  of  the  superior  law-courts.  But 
from  tlie  time  of  Louis  XIV.  Monseigneur  without 
further  addition  was  appropriated  as  the  title  of  the 
Dauphin. 

MONSTRANCE,  the  sa- 
cred utensil  employed  in 
the  Catholic  Church  for 
the  purpose  of  presenting 
the  consecrated  host  for 
the  adoration  of  the  people, 
as  well  while  it  is  carried 
in  procession  as  when  it  is 
exposed  upon  the  altar  on 
occasions  of  special  solem- 
nity and  prayer.  It  con- 
sists of  two  parts,  the  foot  or 
stand  upon  which  it  rests, 
and  the  repository  or  case 
in  which  the  host  is  exhib- 
ited. The  latter  contains  a 
small  semi-circular  holder 
called  the  lunula,  or  cres- 
cent, in  which  the  host  is 
fixed.  It  is  commonly  in 
the  form  of  a  star  or  sun 
with  rays,  the  central  por- 
tion of  which  is  of  glass  or 
crystal,  and  serves  to  per- 
mit the  host  to  be  seen. 

MONTAGl'E,  a  village  of  Muskegon  county, 
Mich.,  situated  on  White  Lake,  five  miles  east  of 
Lake  Michigan.  It  is  a  commercial  town  and  is 
especially  noted  as  a  shipping  point  for  peaches. 

:M0NTCLAIR,  a  post-village  and  a  railroad  cen- 
ter of  Essex  county,  N.  J„  situated  fourteen  miles 
northwest  of  New  York. 

MONTALCINO,  a  cathedral  city  of  central  Italy. 
It  stands  on  a  hill  (1900  feet),  twenty-two  miles 
southeast  of  Siena.     Population,  2.353. 

MONTALEMBERT,  M.\rc  Re.vk,  Marquis  de,  a 
French  military  engineer,  grand-father  of  the  ora- 
tor and  statesman,  born  at  Angoul^me  in  1714, died 
in  1800.  He  was  the  author  of  La  Fortification  Per- 
pendiculaire,  and  the  originator  of  the  modern 
application  of  the  casemate  to  forts  and  bat- 
teries. 

MONTANA,  State  of.  For  general  article  on 
MoNT.v.\.\,  see  Britannica,  Vol.  XVI.  pp.  772-774. 
The  United  States  census  of  1890  reported  the  area 
and  population  of  Montana  as  follows ;  Area,  146,- 
080  square  miles.  Population,  1.12.1.59.  a  gain  dur- 
ing the  decade  of  93,000.  Capital,  Helena,  with  a 
population  of  13,834.  Population  of  Butte  City, 
10,701. 

The  full  list  of  governors  of  Montana  with  the 
dates  of  their  official  service,  is  as  follows : 


MoQstraDce. 


Sidney   Eserton  iSM-m 

Francis  Meagher 186.5-4i6 

Green  Clav  Smith. ...  1866-69 

James  M.  .Uhlev 18<i9-70 

Benjamin    F,  Potts  ..  1870-82 


J.  Schuyler 1882-84 

B.  Piatt  Carpenter      .  1884-85 

Samuel  T.  Houser 1885-86 

Preston  H.  Leslie 1886-89 

Joseph  K.  Toole 1889-98 


Governor  Toole's  term  expires  Jan.  3,  1893.  Sal- 
ary of  governor  $2,600. 

Abbrevi.\ted  Historic  OL-TLiNE  of  Moxt.\na. — The 
part  of  Montana  lying  east  of  the  Rocky  Mountains 
was  included  in  the  "Louisiana  Purchase  ;"  that  part 
lying  to  the  west  was  formerly  included  in  Oregon 
and  Washington,  The  Territory  of  Montana  was 
first  visited  by  the  French  in  1 742-43,  also  by  Lewis 
and  Clarke  in  1804-06.  Gold  was  discovered  in 
1861;  and  mining  began  in  earnest  in  1862.  The 
Territory  was  organized  in  1864,  and  was  admitted 
into  the  Union  as  a  State  Nov.  8,  1889. 

Progress  of  population  of  Jlontana  by  decades : 
1870,  20,595;  1880,  39,159;  1890,  132,159. 


For  nuiirerous  additional  items  relating  to  Mon- 
tana, see  the  article  United  States,  in  these  Re- 
visions and  Additions. 

In  the  absence  of  the  reports  of  the  official  cen- 
sus of  the  chief  towns  of  the  State,  (not  yet 
published)  the  following  estimates  made  for  1.S89, 
by  E.  L.  Lomax,  have  been  kindly  furnished  by  the 
passenger  department  of  the  Union  Pacific  Rail- 
road: 


Anaconda  

Great  Falls 

Ph  illipsburi;  in- 
cluding Granite 
and  Rurasiy  .... 

Bozeman 

Missoula 

Livingston 

Dillon 

Deer  Lodge ... 

Billings 

Miles  City....' 

Boulder 

Marysville 

White  S  n  1  ph  nr 
Springs 

Fort  Benton  . .. 

Stevensvillc... 

Lewisiown 

Corvallis 

Elkhorn 

(Jlendive 

Maiden 

Virginia 

Victor 

Sheridan 

(Jlendale 

Thompson  Falls 


Pop. 


4.001) 
3.730 
S.a00 
S.OOO 
2..')00 
•>,-2.Vt 
2.000 
1.600 
l.iOO 
1.400 


l.iW 
1.200 
1.150 
1.100 
1.050 
1,000 
1.000 
l.OfK) 
1,000 
1,000 
1,000 


Wickcs 

Townscnd 

Castle 

Bonucr 

Carroll  

I  Choteau 

Kmpire 

(irantsdale 

Frenchtown  . . . 

Forsvtli 

Sulesville 

Fort  Maginnis. 

J:iy  Gould 

Ashley 

Toston 

Augusta 

P:>rl.-  City 

Biir  Timbers... 
Cottonwood  . . . 

Ba.=iu 

Jefferson 

Twin  Bridges.. 

Florence 

New  Chicago  . 

Cascade 

Chestnut 

Sun  Kiver 


Pop. 


The  land  areas,  and  populations  of  the  counties, 
severally,  of  the  State  of  Montana  in  1890  were  as 
follows : 


Beaver  Head 

Cascade 

Choteau 

Custer 

Dawson 

Deer  Lodge 

Fergus    

Gallatin 

Jefferson 

Lewis  and  Clarke 

Madison 

Meagher 

Missoula 

Park 

Silver  Bow 

Yellowstone 


27.280 
26..5K0 
26.660 

5.085 
6.762 
2,2"J5 
1.3S0 
26.00 

4.2.W 


4.6.T5 
8,755 
4,741 
5,S08 
2,056 

15.155 
3,514 
6.246 
6.026 

19.145 

4.692 

4.749 
14.427 

6,881 
23,744 

2.065 


Pop. 


».64S 
a.461 
6,521 

3,015 
2,743 
2.537 


MONTBRISON,  a  French  town  in  the  depart- 
ment of  Loire,  35  miles  southwest  of  Lyons,  with 
mineral  wells  and  some  ribbon  manufacture.  Pop- 
ulation, 6,235. 

MONTCALM,  Locis  de.  Marquis,  a  French  gen- 
eral, born  at  Nismes  in  1712,  killed  at  Quebec  in 
1759.  See  Britannica,  Vol.  XX,  p.  167 ;  Vol.  XXIII, 
p.  735 :  Vol.  XXIV,  p.  6.30. 

MONT  CENIS,  or  Monte  Cenisio,  an  Alpine 
peak  and  pass  between  Savoy  and  Piedmont. 
Height  of  the  mountain,  11,792  feet;  of  the  pass. 
6,884  feet.  Over  the  pass  a  road  was  constructed 
(1802-10)  by  Fabbroni,  under  Napoleon's  orders,  at 
an  expense  of  $1,500,000.  Thirteen  miles  west  of 
the  pass  a  railway  tunnel,  seven  and  a  half  miles 
long,  was  begun  in  1857  on  the  Italian  side,  and  in 
1863  on  the  French  side,  and  was  finished  in  1870  at 


iOOS 


M  0  N  T  -DE-  M  A  II  8  A  N  —  M  O  N  T  E     U  U  S  A 


a  cost  of  $15,000,000.  Through  this  tunnel  passes 
one  of  tlie  inuiii  continontiil  overland  routes  from 
London  via  I'aris  to  Brindisi,  for  Asia,  Australia 
and  East  Africa. 

MONT-DK-MARSAN,  the  capital  of  the  French 
department  of  Landes,  at  the  confluence  of  the 
Midou  and  Douze,  92  miles  by  rail  south  of  Bor- 
deaux. It  lias  a  mineral  spring  and  manufactories 
of  chemicals,  iron,  etc.     Population,  10,714. 

MONTE  OATINI,  a  watering-place  of  Italy,  30 
miles  northwest  of  Florence.  Its  mineral  springs 
are  efflcacious  for  abdominal  complaints,  scrofula 
and  dysentery.  The  season  lasts  from  May  to  Sep- 
tember. Near  here  the  Florentines  were  defeated 
by  the  Pisans  in  1315. 

MONTEFIOKE,  Sir  Moses  (1784-1885),  an  Eng- 
lish Jewish  philanthropist,  descendant  of  a  family 
of  bankers,  born  in  Leghorn,  Oct.  24,  1784,  where 
his  parents  happened  to  be  sojourning.  His  grand- 
parents had  emigrated  from  Leghorn  to  London  in 
1750.  In  1812  he  married  Judith  Cohen,  a  lady  who 
went  hand  in  hand  with  him  in  all  his  schemes  of 
philanthropy.  As  a  stock-broker  he  achieved  great 
success.  In  1818  he  was  elected  president  of  the 
Spanish  and  Portuguese  community.  From  1829 
onwards  he  took  part  in  the  struggle  for  removing 
the  civil  disabilities  of  English  Jews. 

In  1835  he  was  one  of  the  parties  to  the  contract 
for  the  $75,000,000  given  as  compensation  to  the 
slave-owners.  He  was  for  a  time  high-sheriff  of 
Kent,  and,  after  long  exclusion  and  repeated  re- 
election, was  legally  admitted  as  sheriff  of  London 
in  1837.  In  that  year  he  was  knighted,  and  in  1846 
was  raised  to  a  baronetcy.  He  distinguished  him- 
self by  his  sympathy  with  his  countrymen  in 
various  parts  of  the  East.  He  made  seven  journeys 
to  the  East,  chiefly  for  the  amelioration  of  the  con- 
dition of  his  countrymen.  At  Bucharest,  during  an 
anti-Jewish  ferment,  he  boldly  faced  the  mob  at 
the  risk  of  his  life.  He  was  presented  with  the 
freedom  of  the  City  of  London  in  1873,  and  an  ad- 
dress in  1883.  In  memory  of  his  wife  he  endowed 
a  .fswish  college  at  Ramsgate  in  1865.  In  his  hun- 
dredth year  he  was  still  hale  and  well,  but  died 
July  29,  1885. 

MONTEGUT,  EwrLB,  a  French  critic,  born  at 
Limoges,  June  24,  1826,  and  early  made  a  reputa- 
tion by  a  series  of  brilliant  studies  on  English  lit- 
erature. He  contributed  to  various  journals,  and 
has  published  books  of  travel,  a  study  of  Marshal 
Davout,  and  translations  of  Shakespeare,  Macau- 
lay  and  Emerson.  Books  of  altogether  exceptional 
value  in  their  critical  insight  are  PoHes  et  Artistes 
<Ie  I' Italic;  Tyi/es  Litteraires,  et  Fantaisies  EsthStiques; 
Eniaia  sur  la  Litterature  Anglaise;  Nos  Marts  contem- 
porains;  Les  Ecrivains  modernes  de  I'Angleterre; 
Livrea  el  Ames  des  Pays  d'Orient;  Melanges  critiques, 
and  Dramat7irges  et  Romanciers. 

MONTENEilRO.  For  general  article  on  Mon- 
tenegro, see  Britannica,  Vol.  XVI,  pp.  779-81.  The 
latest  authorized  figures  report  the  area  at  3,630 
square  miles.  The  total  population  was  stated  in 
official  returns  to  number  220,000  in  1879 ;  a  later 
estimate  makes  it  236,000,  The  capital  is  Oettinje, 
with  1,.500  population  ;  Podgoritza,  6.000  ;  Dulcigno, 
5.000;  Nisksic,  3,000;  Dan i log rad,  1,000.  The  popula- 
tion is  mainly  pastoral  and  agricultural.  The  Mon- 
tenegrins belong  almost  entirely  to  the  Servian 
branch  of  the  Slav  race. 

The  constitution  of  the  country,  dating  from 
1852,  with  changes  effected  in  1855  and  1879,  is  nom- 
inally that  of  a  limited  monarchy,  resting  on  a 
patriarchal  foundation.  The  executive  authority 
rests  with  the  reigning  prince,  while  the  legisla- 
tive power  is  vested  according  to  an  "Administra- 
tive Statute"  proclaimed  March  21,  1879,  in  a  state 


council  of  eight  xnembers,  one-half  of  them  being 
nominated  by  the  prince,  and  the  other  elected  by 
the  male  inhabitants  who  are  bearing,  or  have 
borne,  arms.  Practically,  all  depends  on  the  abso- 
lute will  of  the  prince.  The  inhabitants  are  divided 
into  40  tribes,  each  governed  by  elected  "elders." 
and  a  chief  or  captain  of  district  called  Knjez,  who 
acts  as  magistrate  in  peace  and  as  commander  in 
war.  By  the  "Administrative  Statute"  of  1879, 
the  country  was  divided  into  80  districts  and  six 
military  commands. 

Reigning  Prince  and  Royal  Family. — Nicholas 
I.,  Petrovic  Njegos,  was  born  October  7  (September 
25),  1841.  He  was  educated  at  Trieste  and  Paris, 
proclaimed  Prince  of  Montenegro,  as  successor  of 
his  uncle,  Danilo  I.,  August  14,  1860.  He  was  mar- 
ried, Kovember  8,  1860,  to  MUena  PHrorna  Vuco- 
lii  ova,  born  May  3, 1847,  daughter  of  Peter  Vukotic, 
senator,  and  vice-president  of  the  council  of 
slate.  Offspring  of  the  union  are  six  daughters 
and  three  sons,  Dcmilo  Alexander,  heir-apparent, 
born  June  29, 1871 ;  Mirko,  born  April  17, 1879 ;  Pner, 
born  in  1889. 

Prince  Kicholas's  nominal  yearly  income  is  fixed 
for  the  present  at  9,000  ducats,  or  4,100?.  A  yearly 
sum  of  48,000  roubles,  or  4,800/.,  has  been  received 
by  Montenegro  from  Russia  since  the  Crimean  war, 
as  a  reward  for  its  friendly  altitude  during  that 
period.  The  Austrian  governnit  nt  is  stated  to  con- 
tribute about  30,000  florins  per  annum  towards 
the  construction  of  carriage  roads  in  Monte- 
negro. 

Finances  and  Defense. — No  oflScial  returns  are 
published  regarding  the  public  revenue  and  ex- 
penditure. Reliable  estimates  state  the  former  at 
600,000  Austrian  fioriiis,  or  60,000/.  A  loan  of  1,000,- 
000  florins  was  raised  in  Vienna  in  1881  at  an  inter- 
est of  6J-0  per  cent,  on  the  salt  monopoly  of  the 
jjrincipality,  and  70,000/.  is  owed  to  Russia  for  grain 
supplied  in  1879. 

The  number  of  men  capable  of  bearing  arms,  be- 
tv  een  the  ages  of  17  and  60,  is  calculated  at  about 
20,000.  There  exists  no  standing  army,  but  all  the 
inhabitants,  not  physically  unfitted,  are  trained  as 
Bt'ldiers,  and  liable  to  be  called  under  arms.  Re- 
cently the  Moslem  inhabitants  of  Dulcigno  have 
been  exempted  from  military  service  on  payment 
of  a  capitation  tax. 

The  infantry  are  armed  with  the  Russian  Werndl 
rifle,  of  which  25,000  have  been  distributed,  and  the 
long  ll-millimttre  Gasser  revolver.  The  artillery 
consists  of  24  9-centimt'tre  Krnpp  field  pieces,  and 
24  mountain  guns.  By  the  Berlin  treaty  Montene- 
gro is  precluded  from  owning  vessels  of  war. 

Schools  for  elementary  education  are  supported 
by  government ;  education  is  compulsory  and  free ; 
there  were  in  1889,  70  elementary  schools,  with 
3,000  male  and  300  female  pupils.  All  males  under 
the  age  of  25  years  are  supposed  to  be  able  to  read 
and  write.  There  is  a  theological  seminary  and  a 
gymnasium  or  college  for  boys  at  CettinjI,  and  a 
girls'  high-school  maintained  at  the  charge  of  the 
Empress  of  Russia. 

MONTENOTTE,asmall  village  of  northern  Italy, 
twenty-six  miles  west  of  Genoa,  where  Napoleon 
won  his  first  victory  over  the  Austrians,  April  12, 
1786. 

MONTEPULCIANO,  a  town  of  Italy,  a  bishop's 
see,  situated  on  a  high  hill,  forty-three  miles  from 
Siena.  It  was  the  birth  place  of  Politian  and 
Belarmine,  and  is  famous  for  its  red  wine.  Popula- 
tion. 2.952. 

MONTK  ROSA,  an  Alpine  mountain  mass  with 
four  principal  peaks,  in  the  Pennine  ridge  which 
separates  the  Swiss  canton  of  Valais  from  Italy. 
The   highest   peak,  the    Dufourspitze,    15,217    feet 


M  0  X  T  E  S  A  N  0  —  M  0  0  R  E 


1099 


liigh,  is  extremely  difficult  of  ascent,  and  was 
first  climbed  by  .Ur.  Smyth  in  1855. 

MONTESAXO,  a  post-village,  the  county-seat  of 
Chehalis  county,  Washington,  sixty  miles  south- 
west of  Olympia,  on  the  south  bank  of  the  Chehalis 
River. 

MONTEVIDEO,  a  post-village,  the  county-seat 
of  Chippewa  county,  Minn.,  situated  at  the  mouth 
of  the  Chippewa,  where  it  enters  the  Minnesota 
River. 

MONTEZ,  Lola,  adventuress,  was  born  about 
1S18  at  Limerick,  died  at  Astoria,  L.  I.,  Jan.  17, 
1S51.  She  was  christened  Marie  Dolores  Eliza  Ros- 
aiina,  her  father  being  an  English  Gilbert,  and  her 
mother  of  Spanish  descent.  Taken  out  to  India,  she 
there  lost  her  father  by  cholera;  and,  her  mother 
having  re-married,  Lola  was  sent  home  in  1826  to 
Europe,  and  brought  up  at  Montrose.in  Paris,  and  at 
Bath.  To  escape  the  match.arranged  by  her  mother, 
with  a  gouty  old  judge,  she  eloped  with  a  Captain 
James,  whom  in  July  1837,  she  married  at  Xeath  ; 
hut  the  marriage  ended  in  a  separation  and  in  her 
return  from  India.  She  now  turned  dancer,  and 
after  visits  to  Dresden,  Berlin,  Warsaw,  St.  Peters- 
burg, and  Paris,  she  came  to  Munich.  There  she 
soon  won  an  ascendency  over  the  eccentric  artist- 
king,  Louis  I.,  who  created  her  countess  of  Lands- 
fe!d,  and  allowed  her  $25,000  a  year.  For  more  than 
a  twelvemonth  she  was  all-powerful,  her  power  di- 
rected in  favor  of  Liberalism  and  against  the  Jes- 
uits; but  the  revolution  of  1848  sent  her  once  more 
adrift  on  the  world.  Again  she  married,  and,  after 
t  )uring  through  the  States  and  Australia,  and  after 
two  more  "marriages"  in  California,  in  1858  she  de- 
livered in  Xew  York  a  series  of  lectures  written  for 
her  by  C.  Chauncey  Burr.  She  died,  a  penitent, 
her  last  four  months  being  devoted  to  ministering 
in  a  Magdalen  asylum  near  New  York,  and  was 
buried  in  Greenwood  cemetery. 

MONTGOMERY,  Florence  Sophi.4,  a  popular 
writer  of  books  for  children,  is  the  daughter  of  Sir 
..\lexander  Leslie  Montgomery,  Bart.,  of  the  Hall, 
County  Donegal,  Ireland.  Her  first  book,  A  Very 
Simple  Story,  was  warmly  praised.  Of  its  succes- 
sors the  chief  are  the  widely  popular  Misunder- 
stood; The  Town  Crier;  Peggxi,and  Other  Tales,  and 
The  Blue  Veil. 

MONTGOMERY,  Rich.\rd.  See  Britannica,  Vol. 
XNIII.  p.  790. 

MONTGOMERY,  Robert  (1807-1885),  an  English 
lioet,  born  at  Bath  in  1807,  the  son  of  one  Gomery, 
a  famous  clown.  In  1830  he  entered  Lincoln  Col- 
lege, Oxford;  in  1833  took  his  B.  A.  with  a  fourth 
class;  in  1835  was  ordained,  and  was  minister  of 
Percy  Street  Chapel,  London,  until  his  death  at 
iSrighton,  Dec.  3,  1855.  Of  his  31  works  in  verse  and 
prose,  two — Tlie  Onxnipresence  of  the  Deity  and  Satan 
— are  still  remembered  by  Macaulay's  onslaught  in 
the  Edinburgh  "Review." 

MONTGOMERY,  a  city  of  Alabama.  Popula- 
tion in  1890,  21,790.  See  Britannica,  Vol.  XVI,  p. 
790. 

MONTGOMERY  CITY,  a  post-\nllage  of  Mont- 
gomery county.  Mo.,  82  miles  west  of  St.  Louis. 
Farming  and  dairying  are  the  chief  occupations. 
The  place  contains  a  college,  mill  and  manu- 
factory. 

MONTI,  ViNCENZo  (1753-1828),  an  Italian  poet  of 
the  classical  school,  remarkable  for  his  political 
tergiversation,  anti-French,  Napoleonist,  pro-Aus- 
trian in  turn.  He  was  professor  at  Pavia,  and, 
under  Napoleon,  state  histiographer.  His  transla- 
tion of  the  Iliad  is  admirable. 

MONTICELLO,  a  city,  the  county-seat  of  Piatt 
county.  111.  It  contains  a  steam-elevator  and 
flour-mill. 


MONTICELLO.a  post-village,  a  railroad  junction, 
and  the  county-seat  of  White  county,  Ind.,  21  miles 
west  of  Logansport.  It  has  manufactories  of  paper, 
furniture  and  woolen  goods. 

MONTICELLO,  a  city  and  railroad  junction  of 
Jones  county,  in  the  eastern  part  of  Iowa. 

MONTJOIE  ST.  DENIS,  the  French  war-cry.  old 
at  least  as  Wace's  day  (12th  century),  from  the  hill 
near  Paris  on  which  St.  Denis  underwent  the  joy  of 
martyrdom. 

MONTMEDY,  a  town  and  fortress  in  the  French 
department  of  Meuse,  25  miles  north  of  Verdun  and 
31  miles  southeast  of  Sedan.  It  consists  of  two 
portions,  the  citadel  and  upper  town  overlooking 
the  lower  town,  which  lies  in  the  valley  of  the 
Chiers,  a  tributary  of  the  Meuse.  Built  and  forti- 
fied in  1235,  it  was  taken  by  the  French  in  1542, 
1555,  1596  and  1657,  and  they,  after  it  was  definitely 
assigned  to  them  by  the  peace  of  the  Pyrenees 
(1659),  had  it  re-constructed  and  re-fortified  by 
Vauban.  It  was  captured  by  the  Germans  in  1815 
and  again  in  1870.    Population,  2.740. 

MONTROSE,  a  post-borough,  the  county-seat  of 
Susquehanna  county.  Pa.,  eight  miles  from  Mont- 
rose Station.  It  is  healthfully  situated  among  the 
high  hills  and  is  a  pleasant  summer  resort. 

MONTROSS,  a  post-village,  the  county-seat  of 
Westmoreland  county,  Va.,  situated  52  miles  south- 
east of  Fredericksburg. 

MONTYON  PRIZES,  rewards  for  single  instances 
of  disinterested  goodness  discovered  throughout 
the  year,  awarded  by  the  French  Academy,  ac- 
cording to  the  will  of  Jean-Baptiste-Robert  Auger, 
Baron  de  Montyon,  who  bequeathed  $60('.000  to 
public  hospitals,  and  the  remainder  of  his  fortune 
to  give  sums  of  money  to  poor  patients  on  leaving 
Paris  hospitals,  and  to  found  the  prizes  since  con- 
nected with  his  name.  The  Academy  of  Sciences 
awards  annually  a  prize  of  10,000  francs  to  the  in- 
dividual who  has  discovered  the  means  of  making 
any  mechanical  occupation  more  healthy,  another 
of  equal  value  for  improvements  in  medicine  and 
surgery;  while  the  Forty  themselves  award  the 
prize  of  virtue,  and  another  to  the  writer  of  the 
work  likely  to  have  the  greatest  beneficial  in- 
fluence on  morality — both  alike  of  10,000  francs  a 
year. 

MOODY,  DwiGHT  Lymak.  an  American  evangel- 
ist, born  at  Northfield,  Mass.,  Jan.  5, 1837.  He  was 
for  a  while  a  salesman  in  Boston,  and  in  1856  went 
to  Chicago,  where  he  engaged  with  remarkable 
success  in  missionary  worlT.  In  1S70  he  was  joined 
by  Ira  David  Sankey,  who  was  born  at  Edinburgh, 
Pennsylvania,  Aug.  28,  1840.  In  1873  they  visited 
Great  Britain  as  evangelists,  attracting  great 
crowds,  and  afterwards  worked  together  there  and 
in  America.  Mr.  Moody  is  the  founder  of  North- 
field  seminary,  a  flourishing  Christian  educational 
institution  located  in  his  native  town. 

MOON,  Mountains  of  the,  have  played  a  mys- 
terious part  in  African  geography  since  the  days  of 
Ptolemy,  who  indicated  them  as  containing  the 
sources  of  the  Nile.  Their  exact  position  was  not 
known;  they  were  generally  figured  on  mediwval 
maps  as  a  high  range  crossing  the  entire  continent 
from  Abyssinia  to  the  Gulf  of  Guinea.  As  modern 
enterprise  has  opened  up  the  interior  of  Africa 
different  mountain-chains  and  peaks  have  been 
identified  as  Ptolemy's  Mountains  of  the  ISIoon. 

MOONWORT.  an  interesting  fern,  widely  dis- 
tributed over  northern  Europe,  penetrating  to 
within  the  Arctic  regions  and  Asia,  and,  with  the 
few  other  species  of  which  the  family  is  composed, 
appearing  also  in  North  America. 

MOORE.  Benjamin,  an  American  educator  and 
divine,  born  at  Newtown,  N.  Y.,  Oct.  16,  1748.  died 


1100 


M  0  0  11 II  E  A  1 )  —  .M  ( )  U  J.  !•:  Y 


in  1816.  He  was  long  connected  as  a  minister  with 
Trinity  church,  New  York  City;  became  bishop  in 
1801 ;  and  was  president  of  Columbia  College  from 
1800  to  1811. 

MOORHEAD,  a  city,  the  county-seat  of  Ulay 
county,  Minn.,  situated  on  Ked  River.  It  contains 
a  State  normal  school. 

MOORE,  Frank,  an  American  compiler  and  pub- 
lisher, born  in  New  Hampshire  in  1828.  He  has 
produced  a  number  of  valuable  works  relating!" 
American  history. 

MOORE,  George  H.,  an  American  author  an  ', 
librarian,  born  in  New  Hampshire  in  1823.  He  hii  , 
been  librarian  of  the  New  York  Historical  Society 
and  of  the  Lenox  Library,  and  has  written  a  nunj 
ber  of  historical  works. 

MOORE,  Jacob  Baii^by,  an  American  writer  ol 
local  histories,  born  in  New  Hampshire  in  1797,  died 
in  1853.  He  became  librarian  of  the  New  York 
Historical  Society  in  1845,  and  was  postmaster  of 
San  Francisco  from  1848  until  his  death. 

MOOSE.     See  Britannica,  Vol.  VII,  p.  24. 

MORAN,  Tiio.MAS,  an  American  artist,  born  in 
England  in  1837,  but  came  to  Philadelphia  while  ii 
child.  His  magnificent  paintings  The  Grand  Canon 
of  the  Yellowstone  and  The  Chasm  of  the  Colorado 
were  bought  by  Congress  for  .'^20,000.  His  brother 
Peter  has  devoted  himself  to  the  painting  of  ani- 
mals, and  his  brother  Edward  to  the  production  of 
marine  subjects. 

MORANO,  a  city  of  southern  Italy,  built  on  a 
hill  in  a  wild  neighborhood,  37  miles  northwest  of 
Cosenza.     Population,  8,259. 

MORATA,  Olympia  Fulvia  (1526-1555),  an  Italian 
authoress. 

MORAVIA,  a  village  of  Cayuga  county,  N.  Y.,  18 
miles  southeast  of  Auburn.  Woolens,  cheese,  flour 
and  spokes  are  manufactured  here,  and  the  lousi- 
ness of  the  surrounding  region  is  largely  dairying 
and  stock-raising. 

MORAVIAN  CHURCH.  See  Britannica,  VoL 
XVI,  pp.  811,  812.  See  also  Religious  Denomina- 
tions IN  THE  United  St.vtes  in  these  Revisions  and 
Additions. 

MORELLA,  a  town  of  Spain,  eight  miles  north  of 
Valencia.  It  was  the  stronghold  of  Cabrera,  the 
Carlist  general,  who  scaled  the  castle  Tan.  25,  1839. 
It  was  re-taken  in  July,  1840,  by  Espartero.  Popu- 
lation, 7,190. 

MORELOS,  Jose  Maria  (r.  1765-1815),  a  Mexi- 
can revolutionist,  born  about  1765.  His  birthplace, 
Valladolid,  was  re-named  Morelia  in  his  honor.  He 
was  the  ablest  of  the  leaders  in  the  revolt  of  the 
Mexicans  against  the  Spaniards.  He  was  taken 
prisoner  Nov.  15,  1815,  borne  in  triumph  to  the  city 
of  -Mexico  and  there  shot. 

MORENCI,  a  post-village  of  Lenawee  county, 
Mich.  It  contains  a  woolen  factory  and  a  flour 
mill. 

MORESNET,  a  small  neutral  territory,  of  about 
seventy  acres,  between  Belgium  and  Prussia,  five 
miles  sotitli-west  of  Aix-la-Chapelle.  There  is  on  it 
a  village  of  3,()0()inluiliilMnts. 

MO R ETON- HAY  CHESTNUT,  a  genus  of  plants 
so  namiMl  because  of  the  supposed  resemblance  in 
form  and  qualities  of  the  seeds  to  the  sweet  chest- 
nut of  Europe.  It  is  a  native  of  Australia.  The 
tree  grows  to  the  height  of  from  seventy  to  one 
hundred  feet,  with  spreading  branches  clothed 
with  pinnate  leaves  about  a  foot  long.  The  flowers, 
bright  yellow  and  red,  are  succeeded  by  cylindri- 
cal pendulous  pods  of  a  bright  brown  color,  six  to 
eight  inches  long. 

MORGAN,  Daniel,  an  American  Revolutionary 
general,  born  in  New  Jersey  in  1736,  died  in  1802. 
Congress  voted  him  a  gold  medal  for  his  victory  at 


the  battle  of  Coupeiis.  He  rendered  good  service 
in  the  suppression  of  the  "whisky  insurrection." 
He  was  a  member  of  Congress  from  1795  to  1799. 

MORGAN,  Edwin  Dennison,  an  American  mer- 
chant and  statesman,  born  in  Massachusetts  in 
1811,  died  in  1883.  He  Vjecame  State  senator  of 
New  York  in  1843,  and  governor  in  JS59.  He 
ranked  as  a  major-general  throughout  the  war, 
and  became  United  States  Senator  in  1863.  He 
twice  declined  the  Secretaryship  of  the  Treasury. 

MORGAN,  (teorge  Wa.siiington,  an  American 
soldier  and  statesman,  born  in  Pennsylvania  in 
1820.  He  served  with  the  Texan  army  of  independ- 
ence, in  the  Mexican  war,  and  in  the  civil  war.  He 
was  the  Democratic  nominee  for  governor  of  Ohio 
in  1865,  and  was  a  member  of  Congress  from  1871 
to  1875. 

MORGAN,  John  Henry,  a  Confederate  general 
in  the  civil  war,  born  in  Alabama  in  1826,  died  Sept. 
4,  1864.  He  became  known  as  a  very  bold  and  suc- 
cessful raider,  and  his  troops  were  known  as  "Mor- 
gan's guerillas."  He  was  surprised  by  Union  cav- 
alry at  Greenville,  Tenn.,  and  killed  while  attempt- 
ing to  escape. 

MORGAN,  Lewis  Henry,  an  American  archaeol- 
ogist, born  at  Aurora,  New  York,  Nov.  21,  1818, 
died  Dec.  17,  1881.  He  graduated  at  Union  College 
in  1840,  and  became  a  lawyer  at  Rochester.  He 
served  in  the  State  assembly  in  1861,  and  in  the 
senate  in  1868.  Morgan's  earliest  work.  The  League 
of  the  Iroquois  was  the  first  account  of  the  organi- 
zation and  government  of  an  Indian  tribe ;  but 
evenmore  valuable  are  his  SyMems  of  Con.ianguin.'tt/ 
md.  Affinity  of  the  Human  Fainily.  and  his  treatise 
on  Ancient  Society. 

MORGAN  CITY,  a  post-village  and  port  of  entry 
of  St.  Mary's  parish,  Louisiana,  on  .^tchafalaya 
River,  eighty  miles  southwest  of  New  Orleans.  It 
has  a  good  harbor  and  is  connected  by  steamer- 
lines  with  ports  in  Texas.  Cuba,  and  Mexico.  Pop- 
ulation, 2,200. 

MORGUE,  a  building  in  Paris,  just  behind  the 
cathedral  of  Notre  Dime,  where  the  dead  bodies  of 
persons  unknown,  found  either  in  the  river  (Seine) 
or  in  tlie  streets,  are  exposed  to  pul)lic  view  for 
three  days.  The  corpse  is  put  under  a  glass  case, 
on  sloping  slabs  of  marble.  When  a  corpse  is  iden- 
tified, it  is  handed  over  to  the  relatives  or  friends 
of  the  deceased,  on  payment  of  costs  and  dues; 
otherwise  it  is  interred  at  the  expense  of  the  city. 
The  number  of  bodies  yearly  exposed  in  the  morgue 
is  about  300,  tive-sixths  of  which  are  males.  There 
are  morgues  in  Berlin,  and  in  Boston,  New  Y'ork, 
Brooklyn,  Philadelphia,  Chicago  and  otlier  Ameri- 
can towns.     See  Britannica,  Vol.  V.  p.  331. 

MORIKE,  EniARD,  a  German  poet,  born  in 
Wiirtemburg,  Sept.  8,  1804,  died  June  4,  1875. 

MORISOX,  James  Cotter,  an  English  author 
and  positivist,  born  in  1831,  died  Feb.  25.  1888.  He 
was  educated  at  Highgate  grammar-school  and 
Lincoln  College,  Oxford.  His  first  work  was  his 
masterpiece.  The  Life  and  Timet  of  St.  Bernard. 
His  latest,  T/if  Serrice  of  ^fan.  an  E.ifay  Toxeards 
the  Reliijion  of  the  Future,  attracted  much  attention, 
but  it  was  commenced  when  sickness  had  already 
seized  him,  and  it  does  not  adequately  represent 
his  views.  He  was  one  of  the  founders  and  first 
proprietors  of  the  "Fortnightly  Review."  His  in- 
tellectual gifts  were  associated  with  a  most  genial 
and  kindly  nature  ;  he  was  reputed  one  of  the  best 
talkers  of  his  time  in  French  as  well  as  English, 
and  had  long  projected  a  work  on  the  history  of 
France,  Init  owing  to  ill  health  it  was  never  begun. 

MORLEY,  Henry,  an  English  author,  born  in 
London,  Sept.  15,  1882,  and  educated  at  the  Mora- 
vian school,  Neuwied-on-the-Khine,  and  King's  Col- 


M  0  R  L  ]']  V  —  M.  ( )  11  Jl  1  S 


1101 


lege,  Ivondon,  where  lie  edited  the  "King's  College 
Magazine."  After  pradicixig  iiiedieiiic  at  -Madeley, 
from  1S44  till  1848,  and  Iveepiiig  scliool  for  liii'  next 
two  years  at  Liscard,  J-iverpuol,  he  settled  down  in 
L(]ijdon  to  literary  work  in  connection  with  ■'House- 
hold Words"  and  the  ••Kxaminer."  Of  the  latter  he 
was  joint-editor  from  Iholi  to  185H,  and  sole  editor 
from  lliat  year  till  1864.  He  was  English  lecturer 
at  King's  College  for  eight  years  previous  to  1865, 
when  he  became  professor  of  English  language  and 
literature  at  University  College,  London.  In  1870 
he  was  appointed  examiner  in  English  language, 
literature,  and  history  to  the  university  of  London. 
No  other  man  has  done  so  much  to  make  classical 
literature  accessible  to  t^he  people  as  Henry  Mor- 
ley  through  his  admirajjle  series,  Moriei/s  i'aiverxal 
L(7jrflc.v,  embracing  sixtv-t'iree  volumes;  CaueU's 
Natioiinl  Library,  209  volumes,  and  the  Carhhrooke 
Library,  a  series  of  volumes  issued  in  alternate 
months. 

MOKLEY,  John,  an  English-  writer  and  states- 
man, born  at  Blackburn,  Dec.  24, 18.38.  He  was  edu- 
cated at  Cheltenham  and  Lincoln  College,  Oxford, 
and,  after  taking  his  degree  in  18.59,  was  called  to 
the  bar,  but  chose  literature  as  a  profession.  The 
kest  known  of  his  books  are  Ethmind  linrkc;  Critical 
.\fiiirrllnnirti;  Voltaire;  On  (Jonijirniiiisr;  Rousseau; 
Dllcrol  and  tlv  Encijdop^distx,  and  Rirhard  Cobden. 
From  1867  till  1882  he  edited  the  ''Fortnightly  Re- 
view," and  he  has  edited  the  "English  Men  of  Let- 
ters" series.  He  is  an  honorary  LL.  D.  of  Glasgow. 
He  unsuccessfully  contested  Blackburn  in  1865, 
and  Westminster  in  1880.  From  1880  to  1883,  when 
he  was  elected  for  Newcastle-on-Tyne.  Mr.  ^lorley 
was  editor  of  the  "Pall  Mall  Gazette."  His  articles 
in  favor  of  Home  Rule  written  then,  and  followed 
up  by  action  in  the  house  of  commons  and 
speeches  in  the  country  in  1885,  did  much  to  influ- 
ence public  opinion  before  Mr.  Gladstone's  change 
of  |)olicy  was  known.  In  1886  he  became  Irish  sec- 
retary till  the  dissolution  which  followed  the  rejec- 
tion of  the  Home  Rule  bill  in  that  year.  In  1890, 
during  the  difficulty  as  to  the  leadersliip  of  the 
Irish  party,  he  directly  supported  .Mr.  Gladstone. 

.MORfjEY,  S.vMUEi.,  an  English  merchant  and 
l)hilantliropist,  born  at  lloinerton,  Oct.  15,  1809, 
died  Sept.  5,  18S6.  He  was  returned  to  parliament 
for  Nottingham,  in  the  Liberal  interest,  in  1865; 
was  unseated  on  petition ;  represented  Bristol, 
1868-85,  and  declined  a  peerage  which  was  oHered 
to  him  in  the  latter  year.  He  was  identified  with 
many  religious  and  philanthropic  movements.  He 
gave  $30,000  towards  the  erection  of  a  Noncon- 
formist memorial  hall,  and  during  1864-70  con- 
tributed $7(),tX)0  towards  the  erection  of  Congrega- 
tional chapels. 

MORLEY,  Thomas  (r.  1545-1604),  an  English 
Composer.  In  1601  he  published  the  work  by  which 
he  is  now  known,  r/ic  Triumphs  uf  0/v«««,  being  a 
collection  of  24  madrigals  in  honor  of  <2ueen  Eliza- 
beth, written  by  24  Englishmen  and  set  to  music 
by  Morley. 

MORMONS.  On  .Tan.  12,  18S7.  the  ll.)use  of  Rep- 
resentatives passed  without  division  a  bill  for  the 
suppression  of  polygamy  in  the  Territory  of  Utah. 
Its  chief  provisions  are:  (1)  Polygamy  is  declared 
to  he  a  felony ;  (2)  The  chief  financial  corporations 
of  the  Mormons  are  dissolved,  and  the  attorney- 
general  is  directed  to  wind  them  up  by  process  of 
the  courts;  (3)  Polygamists  are  made  ineligible  to 
•vote;  (4)  AU  voters  in  Utah  are  to  be  reijuired  to 
take  an  oath  to  obey  the  laws  of  the  United  States, 
and  especially  the  laws  against  polygamy ;  (5) 
Woman  suffrage  in  Utah  is  abolished,  and  (6)  Law- 
ful wives  and  husbands  are  made  competent  wit- 
nesses against   persons  accused  of  polygamy.    It 


was  reported  in  September,  1890,  that  polygamy 
had  been  declared  to  be  no  longer  a  feature  of  the 
Mormon  teaching,  and  that  it  was  the  intention  of 
the  sect  to  submit  to  the  ordinary  laws  binding  on 
Americans.  See  Britannica,  Vol.  Wl,  pp.  825- 
828. 

MOROCCO.  See  under  Lkatiier,  Britannica, 
Vol.  XIV,  pp.  3S8,  389. 

MOROCCO.  Eor  general  article  see  Britannica, 
Vol.  XVI,  pp.  830-836.  According  to  the  most  re- 
cent investigation  the  area  of  the  Sultan's  do- 
minions is  about  219,000  English  square  miles.  The 
estimates  of  the  population  of  Morocco  vary  from 
2,500,000  to  9.400,000 ;  it  is  generally  considered  lo 
be  about  5,000,000  souls,  although  Dr.  Rohlfs,  in  the 
"Geographische  Jlittheilungen"  (1883),  maintains 
that  the  ijopulation  is  not  more  than  2,750,000.  An 
estimate  of  1S89  gives  the  following  results:  The 
region  of  the  old  kingdom  of  Fez,  3,200,000;  of  Jlo- 
rocco,  3,900,000;  of  Tafilet  and  the  Segelmesa 
country,  850,000;  of  Sus,  Adrar  and  the  Northern 
Draa,  1,450,000;  total,  9,400.000.  Again,  as  to  race: 
Berbers  and  Tuaregs,  3,000,000;  Sheila  Berbers, 
2,200,000;  Arabs  (1)  pure  nomadic  Bedouins,  700,- 
000 ;  (2)  3Iued,  3,000,000 ;  Jews,  150,000 ;  negroes,  200,- 
000.  The  number  of  Christians  is  very  small,  not 
exceeding  1,500.  Much  of  the  interior  of  Morocco 
is  unknown  to  Europeans. 

Phese.vt  Reigning  F.mhily  .\nd  Government. — 
The  present  sultan  is  iMuley-Hassan,  born  in  1831. 
eldest  son  of  sultan  SidioISlohamed.  He  ascended 
the  throne  at  the  death  of  his  father.  Sept.  17, 
1873.  He  is  known  to  his  subjects  under  the  title 
of  "Emir-al-JIumenin,"  or  Prince  of  True  Believers. 
He  is  the  fourteenth  of  the  dynasty  of  the  Alides, 
founded  by  JIuley-Achmet,  and  "the  thirty-fifth 
lineal  descendant  of  Ali,  uncle  and  son-in-law  of 
the  Prophet. 

The  form  of  government  of  the  sultanate,  or  em- 
j>ire  of  Morocco,  is  in  reality  an  absolute  despotism, 
unrestricted  by  any  laws,  civil  or  religious.  The 
sultan  is  chief  of  the  state,  as  well  as  head  of  the 
religion.  As  spiritual  ruler,  the  sultan  stands 
([uite  alone,  his  authority  not  being  limited,  as  in 
Turkey  and  other  countries  following  the  religion 
of  Mahomed  by  the  expounders  of  the  Koran,  the 
class  of  "Ulema,"  under  the  "Sheik-ul-Islam."  "The 
sultan  has  six  ministers,  whom  he  consults  if  he 
deems  it  prudent  to  do  so;  otherwise  they  are 
merely  the  executive  of  his  unrestricted  will.  They 
are  the  vizier,  the  ministers  for  foreign  affairs 
and  home  affairs,  chief  chamlierlain,  chief  treas- 
urer and  chief  administrator  of  customs.  The 
sultan's  revenue  is  estimated  at  $2,000,000  \nr 
annum,  derived  from  monopolies,  taxes,  tithes  and 
presents. 

In  1.S83  the  sultan  granted  the  claim  of  Spain  to 
the  small  territory  of  Santa  Cruz  de  ^Mar  Peqnefia, 
near  the  mouth  of  the  Yfnu  River,  south  of  .Moga- 
dor. 

MORPHY,  P.\ri,  C,  an  American  chess-player, 
born  in  New  Orleans,  in  1837,  died  in  1884. 

MORRIS,  Chari.es,  an  American  commodore, 
born  at  Woodstock,  Conn.,  in  1784,  died  at  AVash- 
ington,  D.  C,  in  1856.  He  served  with  distinction 
in  the  war  with  Tripoli  and  in  the  war  of  1812.  He 
held  many  posts  of  responsibility  in  the  navy  de- 
partment. 

MORRIS,  Ci..\,RA,  an  American  actress,  born  in 
1846  at  Cleveland,  Ohio.  In  1874  she  was  married 
to  F.  C.  Harriott,  of  New  York. 

MORRIS,  Francis  Ori-en,  an  English  author  and 
divine,  born  at  Beverley  in  1810.  He  took  orders 
in  the  Church  of  England,  and  became  chaplain  to 
the  duke  of  Cleveland.  He  has  written  many  valu- 
able works  on  natural  history. 


no-: 


-M  0  RUT  S  — -M  (>  It  TON 


M OK  Ills,  Gi:oi:(iic  I'lCKKiNs.aiitlnjr  of  "  Woodman, 
Spare  that  Tree,''  burn  in  I'hiludelpliia,  Oct.  lU, 
1S02,  died  in  New  York.  .July  (i.  ISW.  He  founded 
llie  New  York  "Jlirror"  and  al'terwards  tlie  "Home 
.loiirnal."  with  both  of  wliii-h  N.  1'.  Willis  was  asso- 
ciated. 

MORRIS,  tiEOROE  Svi.vHsTKu.an  American  philo- 
sophical writer  and  educator,  liorn  at  Norwich,  Vt., 
in  1840.  He  has  lieen  iirominently  connected  with 
the  University  of  Michigan  and  with  the  Johns- 
Hopkins  University. 

ilORRIS,  GouvEK.NEUR,  an  American  statesman, 
born  in  Morrisania,  New  York,  Jan.  31,1752,  died 
Nov.  6,  1816.  He  graduated  at  King's  (now  Colum- 
bia) College  in  1768,  and  was  admitted  to  the  bar 
in  1771.  He  took  an  active  share  in  the  political 
affairs  of  the  Revolutionary  period.  In  May,  1780,  he 
lost  a  leg  through  a  fall  from  his  carriage  in  Phila- 
delphia. From  1781  to  1784  lie  was  assistant  to 
Robert  Morris,  superintendent  to  the  national 
finance.  In  1787  he  took  his  seat  as  a  delegate  in  the 
convention  that  framed  the  United  States  Consti- 
tution. The  greater  part  of  the  year  1791  he  spent 
in  England  as  a  conlidential  agent  of  Washington, 
and  next  served  till  August.  1794,  as  United  States 
minister  to  France.  Returning  to  America  in  1798, 
he  sat  for  New  York  in  the  United  States  Senate 
from  ISOO  to  1803.  and  was  chairman  of  the  New 
York  canal  commissioners  from  1810  till  his  death. 

MORRIS,  John  G.,  an  American  clergyman, 
educator  and  writer,  born  at  Y'ork,  Pa.,  in  1803. 
He  is  the  founder  of  the  village  of  Lutherville,  Md., 
and  of  the  female  seminary  there  located.  He" is 
prominently  connected  with  many  scientific  and 
other  societies. 

MORRIS,  Lewis,  one  of  the  signers  of  the  Dec- 
laration of  Independence,  born  at  Jlorrisania,  N. 
Y.,  in  1726,  died  in  1798.  He  was  a  half-brother 
of  Gouverneur  Morris. 

MORRIS,  Lewis,  an  American  colonial  gover- 
nor, born  at  Jlorrisania,  N.  Y.,  in  1671,  died  in 
1 746. 

JMORRIS.  Lewis,  a  popular  English  poet,  born 
in  Carmarthen  in  1832.  He  was  educated  at  Sher- 
liorne  School  and  at  Jesus  College,  Oxford,  where 
in  18.5.5  he  graduated  first-class  in  classics,  and  won 
I  lie  Chancellor's  prize.  He  was  called  six  years 
later  to  the  English  bar,  and  practiced  till  1881, 
when  he  accepted  the  post  of  honorary  secretary 
lothe  university  of  Wales.  His  first  offerings  of 
verse  appeared  in  1871,  when  under  the  pen-name 
of  "A  New  Writer"  he  published  Sony.t  cf  Tii'o 
W'irhh,  which  at  once  passed  into  numerous 
editions,  and  which  was  followed  by  a  second  and 
third  volume.  In  1.876  appeared  T/ic /i'/^/o  of //^rc/c.'!, 
the  work  with  which  the  author's  name  is  usually 
associated;  it  has  run  into  several  series,  and 
these  series  into  many  editions.  He  has  since 
published  (■/"'(■//,  (I  Dnuim:  The  Ode  of  Life;  Soiiij« 
f'/i.sjuK/;  (li/rl(i.  It  Tidii'ilii:  and  ,-1  Vision  of  Sal7its 
(1890).' 

MORRIS,  Ri(  ii.Mti),  an  English  philologist,  born 
at  Uermondsey  in  1833.  He  is  an  active  member 
of  the  Chaucer  and  the  Early  English  Societies, 
and  president  (if  the  Philological  Society.  He  has 
written  many  valuable  philological  works,  and  ed- 
ited iiunierous  early  texts. 

.MoRlilS,  Tii.!.MAs.  a  bishoii  of  the  Methodist 
Kpisciipal  ('liuri'li.  born  In  We<t  Virginia  in  1794, 
(lied   in    I,S74. 

.MORRIS,  Wii.i.i^M.  artist  and  poet,  born  at 
Walthamstow  in  1834,  and  educated  at  ^Marlborough 
and  Exeter  College,  Oxford.  Mr.  !\Iorris  turned 
his  attention  for  some  time  to  the  study  of  archi- 
tecture; and  in  1.868.  together  with  his  friends 
')ante  G.  Rossetti  and  Burne  Jones, endeavored  to 


elev;ile  the  artistic  taste  of  the  public.  For  this 
purpose  a  business  of  "art  fabrics."  uall-pajiers,  and 
stained  glass, was  started  which  has  been  extremely 
successful.  Mr.  Morris  published  in  1867  his  poem 
Tlie  Jjifi'  and  Death  of  Jason,  which  was  followed  in 
1868-71)  by  The  Earthly  Paradise,  a  series  of  twenty- 
four  romantic  tales.  His  later  works  include  Lure 
is  Enough;  Tlie  Stonj  of  Siijurd  Die  Vohautj;  and 
Hopes  and  Fears  for  Art.  He  has  recently  trans- 
lated the  Odyssey  of  Homer,  and  in  conjunction 
with  ilr.  Eirikr  Magnusson  rendered  into  English 
verse  a  number  of  Icelandic  Stories.  Mr.  Morris 
is  one  of  the  leaders  of  the  socialistic  movement  in 
England.  A  book  by  him  entitled  The  OlilleriiKj 
I'ldiii.  appeared  in  1890. 

M0|;RIS,  a  city,  the  county-seat  of  Grundy 
county.  111.,  one  of  the  largest  griiin-niarkets  of  the 
West.  It  manufactures  plows,  cultivators,  school 
furniture,  and  carriages,  and  contains  bituminous 
coal-mines. 

MORRIS,  a  post-village,  a  railroad  junction  and 
the  connty-seat  of  Stevens  county,  51  inn.,  in  the 
western  part  of  the  State  on  Pomme  de  Terre 
River,  159  miles  northwest  of  St.  Paul. 

MORRISBURG,  a  town  of  Ontario,  a  port  of  en- 
try, situated  on  the  St.  Lawrence,  ninety-two  miles 
west  of  Montreal.  It  does  an  extensive  shipping 
business,  and  has  a  valualile  water-power. 

MORRISON,  a  city,  the  county-seat  of  White- 
sides  county,  111..  127  miles  west  of  Chicago.  It 
has  several  stores  and  mills. 

MORRISTOWN,  a  village  in  St.  Lawrence  county, 
N.  Y'.,  opposite  Brockville,  Canada,  on  the  St.  Law- 
rence River. 

MORRISTOWN,  a  post-village,  a  railroad  junc- 
tion and  the  county-seat  of  Hamblen  county, 
Tenn.,  situated  in  a  mineral  region  where  varie- 
gated marble  is  obtained.  The  town  contains  two 
colleges. 

MORRISVILLE.  a  post-village,  the  county-seat 
of  Madison  county,  N,  \'.,  thirty  miles  southwest  of 
Utica.    It  is  a  hop-growing  center. 

MORSE,  Edward  S.,  an  American  naturalist, 
born  in  Maine  in  1838.  He  has  been  professor  of 
zoology  in  Bowdoin  College  and  in  Harvard  L'ni- 
versity ;  has  written  several  works  on  natural  his- 
tory, and  is  a  popular  scientiric  lecturer. 

MORSE,  Jedediah,  an  American  geographer, 
father  of  the  inventor  of  the  telegraph,  born  in 
Woodstock,  Conn.,  Aug.  23,  1761,  died  in  1826.  He 
is  best  known  as  the  author  of  Morse's  Geoffrajihi/. 

MoKTARA,  Edgak.  a  Jewish  boy  whtj,  in  1858. 
was  forcibly  carried  off  from  his  parents  by  the  or- 
ders of  the  archbishop  of  Bologna  on  the  plea  that 
he  had,  when  an  infant,  been  baptized  into  Christ- 
ianity by  a  Roman  Catholic  maid-servant.  The 
manner  of  the  boy's  abduction,  and  the  refusal  of 
the  Roman  Catholic  authorities  to  give  him  up  to 
his  parents,  becoming  known  throughout  Europe, 
excited  great  iiulignation,  more  particularly  in 
England.  P>iit  the  boy  remained  in  the  hands  of  the 
Roman  Catholic  church,  and  became  an  Augustin- 
ian  monk. 

MORTAR-VESSEL,  a  class  of  gunboat  for 
mounting  sea-service  mortars.  The  most  ancient 
form  of  mortar- vessel  was  the  "bomb-ketch,"  con- 
venient because  of  the  length  of  deck  without  a 
mast. 

MORTON.  GEORtiE.  born  at  York,  England,  about 
1585.  He  was  an  active  promoter  of  immigration 
among  the  Plymouth  Colonists;  and  was  the  editor 
of  "IMourt's  Relation."  the  first  account  published 
in  England  of  the  planting  of  the  colony. 

MOUT()N.  Henry,  a  distinguished  .\merican 
(  chemist,  born  in  New  York  t!ity  in  1836.  He  has 
i   been  a  voluminous  vv'riter  on  scientific  subjects.  He 


^ 


M  0  R  T  0  N  —  M  0  U  N  T    DESERT    I  S  L  A  N  D 


1103 


uioaiiit-  president  of  tlie  Stevens  Institute  of  Tech- 
nology in  1(S70. 

.M(')KT(  )X,  James  St.  Clair, an  American  military 
en!{ineer.  born  in  Philadelphia  in  l(S2!t.  He  was 
killed  in  the  assault  on  Petersburg,  .June  17,  18l>4. 

MOKTKX,  Levi  Parsons,  vice-president  of  the 
United  States,  born  at  Slioreliani,  Vermont,  May 
1(>,  1824.  He  was  first  a  country  store-keeper's  as- 
sistant, then  partner  in  a  Boston  firm  of  merchants, 
and  in  1863  founded  banking-houses  in  Xew  York 
and  London.  In  lS78and  ISKO,  he  was  returned  to 
Congress  as  a  Republican;  in  1881  to  1S85,  he  was 
minister  to  France,  and  in  1888  he  was  elected 
vice-president  of  the  United  States. 

MOKTOX,  XATiiA.siEt.  (16I3-ltj8.5;.  brother  of 
(ieorge.  the  Plymouth  colonist.  He  wrote  several 
works  on  the  early  history  of  Xew  England. 

MORTOX,  Oliver  Perry,  an  eminent  American 
statesman,  born  in  Indiana  in  l,S2::i,  diedin  1877.  He 
was  governor  of  Indiana  during  the  civil  war,  and 
became  United  States  Senator  in  18()7. 

.MORTON,  Samuai.  George,  a  distinguished 
.\merican  phvsician  and  naturalist,  born  in  Phila- 
delphia, .Ian.  26,  1799,  died  .May  15,  1.S51.  Hestudied 
medicine  in  Philadelphia  and  Edinburgh,  and  in 
1.S39  was  appointed  professor  of  anatomy  in  the 
Pennsvlvania  Medical  College.  Morton  may  be  re- 
garded as  the  first  American  who  endeavored  to 
place  the  doctrine  of  the  original  diversity  of  man- 
kind on  the  scientific  basis.  His  great  works  are 
Vrnnin  Amerirann.  and  Crunia  .Hyiiptiacn.  His 
museum  of  comparative  craniology,  in  the  academy 
of  natural  sciences.  Philadelphia,  contains  some 
1..5(H)  skulls,  9U0  of  them  human. 

.MORTON,  Thomas  (<-.159()-f.]64r)),  brought  a 
colony  from  England  to  Massachusetts  in  1622.  He 
came  into  conflict  with  the  Puritans  on  the  question 
of  worldly  amusements,  and  published  a  satire 
called  The  Xnc  Enr/linh  Canit'in.  which  gives  an  ex- 
cellent description  of  the  country. 

MORTON,  Wii.i.iAM  T.,  an  American  dentist, 
born  in  Massachu.tetts  in  l.'<19.  died  in  1866.  He 
is  distinguished  as  the  discoverer  of  the  use  of 
ether  as  in  ana>sthetic. 

MOSES.  See  Britannica,  Vol.  XVI,  pp.  86tl-61. 

MOSK\\'.\,  a  branch  of  the  Oka.  It  rises  in  a 
marsh  in  the  east  of  .'-molensk,  flows  east  to  the 
city  of  Moscow,  and  thence  to  the  Oka.  It  is  nav- 
igable from  its  mouth  to  Moscow,  except  between 
November  and  April,  when  it  is  generally  frozen, 
and  is  connected  directly  with  the  Volga  by  the 
Mofkwa  Canal. 

MOSTAGANEJM,  a  town  of  Algeria,  on  the  coast, 
forty-five  miles  north-east  of  Oran.  It  manufac- 
tures pottery  and  has  corn-mills  and  tanneries. 
Population  in  1886,  12,39.5,  more  than  one-third  be- 
iTig  Europeans.  It  was  a  place  of  40,000  in  the  16th 
century ;  and  has  again  grown  up  from  its  decayed 
state  since  the  French  took  possession  in  1833. 

MOTHE  CADILLAC  ANTOIXE.  See  Cadii-lac, 
in  these  Revisions  and  Additions. 

MOTIFF,  in  a  musical  composition,  the  princi- 
pal subject  on  which  the  movement  is  constructed, 
and  which,  during  the  movement,  is  constantly  ap- 
pearing in  one  or  other  of  the  parts,  either  com- 
pletely or  modified. 

MOTT,  l.,fCRETiA  Coffin,  an  American  philan- 
thropist, born  at  Xantucket  in  1793,  died  in  1880.  In 
1S19  she  became  a  Quaker  preacher,  and  thereafter 
was  known  as  an  able  advocate  of  peace  and  an 
Dpposer  of  slavery. 

.MOL'I  D,  or  Mon.Di.vEss,  the  common  name  of 
many  minute  fungi  which  make  their  appearance, 
often  in  crowded  multitudes,  on  decaying  or  diseased 
plants  and  animals,  and  animal  and  vegetable  sub- 
stances.   To   the  naked   eye   they  often   seem  like 


patches  of  fine  cobweb,  which  are  shown  by  the 
microscope  to  consist  of  cellular  threads. 

MOULDING  AND  CA.STING.  See  Britannica, 
Vol.  IX,  pp.,  479-81. 

MOULTON,  Loi'isE  Cha.ndler,  an  American 
writer,  born  in  Ponfret,  Conn.,  April  5,  1835,  mar- 
ried at  twenty  W.  U.  Moulton,  a  Boston  publisher, 
and  has  published  children's  stories,  novels,  essays, 
and  poems.  Her  stories  are  unaflfected  and  well 
constructed,  full  of  grace  and  tenderness ;  her  verse 
reveals  the  rarer  gift  of  lyrical  music.  Here  may 
be  named  Brdthne  .S7o/vV.v;  Shuh'  Woniin's  Henrts,  and 
//(  llie  Garden  of  Diraiiis  (1890),  a  volume  of  charm- 
ingly tender  and  pathetic  verse. 

JIOULTON,  a  post-village,  the  county-seat  of 
Lawrence  county,  Ala.  It  contains  a  boys'  acad- 
emy and  a  girls'  institute. 

MOULTRIE.  .Jou.v,  an  English  poet,  born  in  Lon- 
don in  1799,  died  in  1874. 

MOULTRIE,  Fort,  a  fortress  on  Sullivan's  Is- 
land, at  the  mouth  of  Charleston  harbor.  South 
Carolina,  celebrated  for  the  repulse  of  a  British 
squadron  commanded  by  Sir  Peter  Parker,  Jan.  28, 
1776.  The  fort,  which  had  2()  guns  and  435  men, 
and  was  commanded  liy  Colonel  William  Jloultrie 
(1781-1805),  had  been  hastily  built  of  iialmettologs, 
in  two  rows  16  feet  apart,  with  the  space  between 
filled  with  sand.  The  spongy  wood  of  the  palmetto 
was  found  to  resist  the  cannon  balls  perfectly. 

MOI'LTRIE,  William,  an  American  military 
commander,  born  in  South  Carolina  in  1731,  died 
in  1805.  He  fought  with  distinction  in  the  Revolu- 
tionary war. 

MOUND-BIRDS,  a  family  of  galinaceous  birds 
remarkable  for  the  large  mounds  which  they  build_ 
as  incubators  for  the  eggs.  They  are  natives  of 
Australasia  and  of  the  islands  in  the  eastern  arclii- 
pelago  and  Pacific. 

MOUND  CITY,  a  post- village,  the  county-seat  of 
Pulaski  county.  111.,  seven  miles  north  of  the  mouth 
of  the  Ohio  river.  It  contains  a  national  cemetery 
and  the  western  naval  station. 

;M0UXD  CITY,  a  post-village,  the  county-seat  of 
Linn  county,  Kan.,  on  Little  Sugar  Creek.  It  has 
machine-shops,  a  foundry,  and  a  system  of  water- 
works. 

MOUNDSVILLE,  a  post-village,  the  county-seat 
of  Marshall  county,  W.  Va.  It  contains  the  State 
penitentiary,  several  saw,  woolen,  and  rolling-mills, 
and  a  coal-bank.  Here  is  situated  the  largest  In- 
dian mound  in  America. 

.MOUNTAIN.  George,  a  Canadian  bishop,  son  of 
Jacob  Mountain,  born  in  England  in  1789,  died  in 
1863. 

MOUNTAIN,  Jacob,  a  Canadian  bishop,  born  in 
England  in  1750,  died  in  1825. 

MOUNT  AYR,  a  post-village,  the  county-seat  of 
Ringgold  county,  Iowa,  in  the  southern  part  of  the 
State,  near  the  West  Fork  of  Grand  River. 

MOUNT  CARMEL,  a  city,  the  county-«eat  of 
Wabash  county.  111.,  on  Wabash  River.  It  con- 
tains manufacturing  establishments,  flour  and  saw- 
mills. 

MOUNT  CARMEL,  a  post-borough  and  a  rail- 
road junction  of  Northumberland  county.  Pa.,  con- 
taining mines  of  coal.     Population,  8,243. 

MOUNT  CLEMENS,  a  city,  the  county-seat  of 
Macomb  county,  Mich.,  twenty  miles  northeast  of 
Detroit.  It  contains  lumber  manufactories,  a  fur- 
nace, and  celebrated  magnetic  mineral  springs. 
Population,  4,742. 

MOX'NT  DESERT  ISLAND,  a  mountainous 
island,  fifteen  miles  long  and  twelve  miles  wide, 
south  of  Maine  in  the  Aslantic  (5cean.  It  contains 
beautiful  lakes  and  several  villages  and  is  a  favor- 
ite summer  resort. 


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